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yeoldontknow · 6 years ago

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Light Sakura

Author’s Note: welcome back to chanvember 2019! this is a much heavier offering. when i was in japan in april, i wrote some of my thoughts and feelings into notes. there werent many, but i decided to turn them into this beast a fic. this is a very personal story - personal and heavy, and is probably me at my most raw and honest. more than anything, this is me letting you in to watch me process life. i hope you can still appreciate it <3 Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Genre: romance; angst; travel!au; fluff; light smut Summary: While taking your honeymoon in Tokyo, alone, you meet Chanyeol, a man who reminds you of the person you remember being long before you learned to forget yourself. After spending one full day together, you question if you could walk away from him - especially when it feels like walking away from yourself, again. Rating: R Warnings: some intense, adult angst; the most beautiful chanyeol ive ever written; and an explicit makeout session Word Count: 15K

Barely half nine in the morning and already the cherry blossom trees of the Shinjuku National Gardens have decided to whelm you.

Overhead, they sway in the breeze, elegant in their movements and peaceful in the way they seem to exist for no one and everyone, but most of all, themselves. You relate to them, in only this half-formed similarity, alone on the linen blanket you’ve spread across a soft patch of grass.

The blush pink of the petals puts the flavor of hope, faith, and healing on your tongue - you’re unsure if this is what they truly mean, if this is the ascribed symbolism to pretty, delicate things, but it feels like they matter. You feel strongly and passionately they mean something beyond the aesthetic of paradise, filtered and filtered again through Instagram as proof of experience.

To you, they are the herald of change, the transience of perfection contained neatly in the blossom, fading almost as soon as they appear. Always, they depart swiftly, detached and long missed yet remaining somewhere just beyond reach, a memory of perfect bliss; the wonder, and the healing, and the euphoria of existence, and the grief and melancholy of the inherent loss.

From the corner of your eye, you see it, a large mass of struggle and frustration. Intrigued, you look over to find a man, tall and gangly, battling with himself and the blossoms and the sun to take a selfie. On this cloudless day in April, the sun seems to find his eyes from every angle, even this early in the morning. Blinded yet, somehow, ignited, he becomes at once a man both at peace and at war with nature, challenged by the haze of morning to outshine the blossoms. Even under the sakura tree, the sun seeks his shapes, gives him a glow that speaks of reverence and admiration.

It’s entertaining to witness, though only serves to remind you that there is no one with you to laugh or to watch, to share in the delight of such a vision, and so you look away, having already seen enough for yourself.

Glancing down to your blanket, you see the array of items spread before you, gaze drifting to the sakura mochi. Your lips fall to a grimace, the humor of the morning dissipating on sight. Nothing about the confection tastes right, or truly like a confection at all. One bite, and all you could think was that some things are meant to be witnessed and admired, never consumed, their delicate lightness bitter on the tongue but sweet to the iris.

Lured by motion in the distance, you look up once more and find he is still there, spinning in circles beneath the trees. The longer you watch, the more you find he is somewhat familiar in his unfamiliarity, the strangeness of not knowing his name or personality or history its own sort of comfortable adventure, the thrill of it settling over your nerves in a way you had long abandoned. The sight of him overtakes you the same way he is overtaken by the sun, almost immediately and without escape. Though, for you, you know you are overtaken by the nostalgia of an imperfect youth and the mistakes that come from letting the wrong person in - not dangerous, not lethal, but deadly just the same and always just as reckless.

And so you don't know why you speak, why you even rise to a stand, allow yourself to disturb the peaceful solitude of your morning, wanting, rather suddenly, to ease his struggle. Even more, you don’t know what exactly it is about him that makes you reach out, giving yourself yourself away and over to the feeling of longed for and missed connections.

'Do you want help with that picture?'

A small noise of surprise leaves his chest as he turns to face you, seeking your voice with his lips set in a full pout. At once and against your better judgement, you swoon, transfixed by how arresting he truly is. Arresting, a word you’ve never really used for people or even art made after 1945, the term reserved for pain and poetry, but he becomes it, embodies it, in every sense of the meaning.

His smile take it time as his gaze walks over your features, taking you in, beguiled and amused and delighted for the help - relieved too, a grateful smile falling on his lips as though he'd been waiting for you, relaxing at once into the comfort of not knowing you at all. It strikes you how easy it is to connect when you aren’t really trying to, when you aren’t thinking or overthinking, and people can just be themselves.

The warmth in his smile remains, even as he speaks, the genuine contentment of it infectious. 'Do you mind?'

Taking a few cautious steps towards you, he runs a hand through his hair, anxious.

'Happy to.' You close the gap between you both, extending your hand, palm upwards, for his phone. 'It's funny, I thought this would have been easy given how long your arms are.'

The joy of his smile spills into his laugh as he hands you his phone, the sound boisterous and altogether too loud for the quiet stoicism of Japan, his unbridled energy turning the colours of the gardens into something far more rich than the human eye could bear.

'Sorry,’ you giggle, carried by the sound of his pleasure. ‘I don't mean that as an insult.' It’s amusing, you think, how awkward this exchange is. How terribly exciting it truly is to not be comfortable. ‘You just don’t realize how hard good selfies are until you’re short, like I am.’

'Well,' he concedes, 'the limbs are helpful for group photos but when you're perpetually under the sun and in the way and having to duck, it's just as difficult.'

Far more lightly than you would have imagined for someone of his size, he settles on the edge of the wooden bridge, the water of the pond glistening behind him, gleaming much like the cityscape in the distance. At once, he is radiant, another word you’d never used for a person until you saw him, the tips of his ears catching the light, the sunbeams finding him in a way they don’t seem to find other people. Or, perhaps, they don’t find him at all, and simply are born of him entirely, emerging from his core and lifted into the atmosphere.

A warm breeze moves through the air, rustling your hair, and he leans into it, almost imperceptibly. Eyes closed and expression soft, he lifts his head towards the sky and smiles, blissful in his quiet contentedness.

An image such as this, you think, is poetic, the kind of portrait that resonates throughout the city long after the person has left, adding weight to their photo collection and adding weight to all of those who witnessed its capture. But your finger hesitates, the slowness of your muscles taking its time to luxuriate in his expression. His delight, his happiness, his easy way of coming alive as though it were natural, and as though you could learn to do it, too.

And so you are slow, paused in your admiration long enough for it to dissipate altogether, his mercurial personality shifting his pose almost immediately into one of casual nonchalance.

'Let me know when you're ready,' he says, regarding you with a calm, yet detached smile.

'Okay.' You're unsure when you became so breathless, when the air left you and went in search of somewhere, or someone, else, but you're unsure it matters. Moments like this, of intense feeling and abrupt emotion, you know, usually do not last. 'Three. Two. One.'

The moment you press capture to take the picture, his expression changes. Eyes going cross-eyed, he sticks out his tongue and wrinkles his nose, making a mess of the scenery, and the image, altogether. And all at once, you laugh, overcome and overtaken by the shock. The abrupt force of it makes you sputter, your breath lurching forward in a cough as he rises to a stand, pleased with himself.

'How did it come out?' Pride drenches his words, smile wide and large and eyes glistening in victory, as you realize he meant it - he meant every detail of it.

Catching your breath, you study the picture, the absurdity of it, and turn it around to show him. 'You don't want me to delete this?'

He shakes his head, reaching for the phone and regarding the photo with a smirk. 'Absolutely not.'

‘Who is this picture for?' you question, confident a photo like that has a home, a purpose, a place. It’s not pretty, the expression and the energy tarnishing any hope of it living on social media.

'Just me,' he clarifies with a small shrug. 'But does it have to be for anyone?'

You fall silent, mind empty by the simplicity of this statement and mesmerized by his lightness of being. A talent, you are aware, you simply do not share. 'No,' you agree, voice soft, 'I suppose not.'

'Do you want me to take one of you?' he offers, pocketing his phone and cocking his head to the side.

In truth, you hadn’t considered it - hadn’t considered any part of this morning, likely would have come and gone with only pictures of the trees and none of you, your essence moving through the city without leaving a trace. It would be nice, you think. Something for your mother or, as he said, something for no one at all - something to remember yourself by.

'Do you mind?'

He nods, enthusiastically, offering his palm with eager fingers. 'It's the least I could do.'

Sitting on the bridge railing in the same place, the breeze moves through your hair once more, and you understand why he eased into the feel of it, almost tender in its smooth traverse between the strands. Sweetness lingers in the air, the smell of blossoms and food and a distinct characteristic, definitive to Tokyo, that you will never quite place. Hands gripping the wood, your mind wanders, seeming to forget there’s a purpose to your position here, a purpose for this crowd and a reason the petals move through the air, lifted much the same way the wind gives flight to wings.

Would you have wanted to share this moment, you think, with someone else, or share it at all? Are you truly sharing this moment, with the people around you and the man preparing to take your photo? Would another person have made it better - would he have made it better? Could it really have been more joyful than this?

Mostly, you think you would have been pressured, too aware of everything, especially he needs of another person. Aware, most distressingly, of the crippling necessity for plans and the way you are forever bound to the beginning and the end of an existence, all actions reduced from their experience to little more than a point A and a point B, with little room for the journey in between.

As if on cue, your new found partner coughs, approaching you with a placid expression.

'Sorry,’ he mumbles apologetically. ‘You're getting a facetime call.'

Gently, almost reproachfully, he hands you the phone and you look at the name, the iridescent letters making your stomach sink. Guilt overtakes you, mind racing even though it feels so impossibly empty, each glimmer of the name and the sad, almost solemn image of your face running your tongue dry. Briefly, you are reminded of the sakura mochi, and the way beautiful things so easily sour.

The shadow of your new, strange friend lingers, his own body taking on a sway that distracts you enough to decline the call with a tap of your finger.

'It's okay,' you say, handing your phone back to him with a smile you know is partially vacant. 'I can call him back.'

He simply nods, expression neutral, both somehow aware that you will not.

With only a few long strides, he returns to his original position just as swiftly as he returns to his original mood, jovial and easygoing all over again. 'Tell me when you're ready.'

'Ready,’ you announce, unsure if you’ve ever really meant it.

Loud with enthusiasm, he counts down the same way as you had, but you find you don’t carry the same playfulness to be as creative or amusing as he was. He was mesmerizing, and you are entirely uncertain how to attain that same radiant sense of optimism he seems to exude even beyond the frame of his picture. Instead, you simply look at him, trapped in a state of wonder and loss, a limbo that feels worthy of being captured.

It is not, you think, that this is a moment you’d like to return to, merely that you think you’d like to see how it looks. More than anything, you want to know how to capture and hold and maintain the fleeting experience of growth. Down to the depths of your marrow, you simply want to give permanence to the in between, your desire for control a habit you could never quite shake, regardless of how often you try.

Humming, he approaches you with your phone in hand, pleased with himself, though the corners of his mouth are downturned in pensive consideration.

'Who is this picture for?' he muses, parroting your earlier question and handing you the phone.

You meet his gaze for a single moment, mystified by the way his thoughts run wild in his irises, before looking down at the image. The person in the photo is you - she looks like you and wears your clothes, but you are aware that you are entirely absent from the image. Instead, you have been replaced with someone unfamiliar - neither hopeful nor resentful, she simply appears lost. Not lonely, not lacking, just learning, having neither retreated inward nor retreated at all, here and nowhere and delighted by the confusion of it.

'No one,' you say, proud with your success. This is not a beautiful picture, and you are glad for it, the ability to witness the discomfort of evolution. 'Everyone.'

Looking up at him once more, you finally offer him a smile you believe in, a smile you know is genuine.

'Does it matter?'

He shakes his head, returning your expression with childlike wonder. 'No, I suppose it doesn't.'

For a few, intangible moments, you remain like this, both regarding one another, a little unsure how to feel or what to say or what to even make of one another, smiling because it feels right and it feels good. He leans forward, inches closer as though pulled by a magnet, and the motion draws your attention to the queue that has started to form behind him. Each passing moment, more people arrive to the gardens, people wanting to view the blossoms and wanting the same photo as you, patient and yet hardly patient at all giving the bounce in their knees.

'Do you want to have breakfast with me?' You’re entirely unsure where the question comes from, and find yourself pointing in the direction of your blanket, the food and the bags still exactly where you left them.

You are unsure where the question came from but you are not upset that you asked, not even appalled. At this moment, the only thing you can truly fathom is that you want to remain in his company if only because it is spontaneous.

He glances to where you pointed, narrowing his eyes. 'Are you sure? I don't want to impose.'

'Do you have somewhere else to be?’ you press, allowing him a way out should he be too polite to take one for himself. ‘Plans?' The word feels heavy in your mouth, weight and severity of it unsuited for him entirety.

'Not really,’ he grins. ‘I'm just exploring today.'

You return his smile, glad that he gets it even if he does not. 'Me, too.'

'In that case, yeah, I'd love to join you.'

Together, you make your way to the blanket, his stride slightly unnatural as he adjusts to your pace. The kindness of it fills your chest with a heat long absent in your connections with others, and you welcome it, delighted for its return.

'I'm Chanyeol,’ he says, angling himself on the blanket so his shoes remain on the grass. He extends his hand towards you once more, friendly and personable.

'Y/N.'

The press of his palm into yours warms your nerves, a thrill of newness gliding up your arm and into the nodes of your lungs. Swallowing thickly, you maintain your smile, wondering if he can see that his presence threatens to send you floating, a too much too soon rush of blood to the head. His gaze remains on yours too long, the same way his hand remains twined with yours too long, and when he remembers himself, separating you, it does not escape your attention that he presses the flat of his hand to the blanket, knuckles tense.

It’s the same for you, the memory of his touch lingering long after he has left you, skin tingling and feeling tattooed.

Blinking, you avert your gaze and nudge the wooden box of sakura mochi towards him, gesturing for him to try it.

'Oh you got one of these?’ he begins, slowly, tentatively. ‘They're...'

'Awful?' you offer, hoping he agrees.

'Yeah,' he laughs. ‘It’s really surprisingly terrible. I didn’t want to say in case you love it.’

Your laugh joins his, the sound new and refreshing - yours in a way that it hasn’t been for a long time. You recognize the sound of it, the crystal ring and high echo a sound you made when you were nineteen and unafraid of the distant expanse of life. Back when you were fresh and bright and untarnished by the way a person can wake up and demand so much of you before the sunrise - demand parts that do not exist, and so you must create them, calling the shell of this action a compromise.

"I’ll give that up because you’re asking so nicely," you hear yourself say. "But be warned this is a slippery slope, and I don’t think you’re ready for the fallout."

He thinks you’re teasing. You know that you aren’t.

"One day," you hear yourself say, "I will give it all up for you and there will be nothing left of me for you to take."

Hours later, the linen blanket folded neatly into his backpack, Chanyeol joins you on the trip to teamLab Borderless. Because, you have two tickets and it would be a shame to waste them, a thing you said as a method of reasoning, a means to rationalize the fact that you felt good about asking him. Because, he had attempted to buy tickets and found he was too late, the day already sold out and the next available date after his departure. And you smiled, glad for his company and for the ability to make irrational choices, the magic of both these things making the tips of your fingers tingle with adrenaline.

And he smiled, you like to think, because he was glad to be with you, with someone, glad that you wanted him, continuing a conversation that never seemed to stop.

The art museum swallows you, takes you in and refuses to release your bones, turning you to carrion flowers. The dark shadows and blurred edges entrap you in a state of awe. At every corner, the impenetrable blackness looms but it is not foreboding, the contrast giving way to smears and arrays of colour so unlike the usual refractions your eyes choose to witness.

Even covered by this darkness, still, Chanyeol finds a way to glow. Through almost every room, the colours adorn his skin, craving contact with one they recognize as their own. Or, perhaps, it is you, learning to crave all over again and shedding the weight of responsibility, of choice over carnal desire, mind over matter, and the physicality of your wanting suddenly made manifest for all to see, staining him with the residue in the process.

He seems at peace in the falsehood of this magic, touching walls and touching lights with long fingers and delicate caresses. Standing behind him just enough to give him space, privacy, you watch as a light show animals, flowers blooming from their backs as they walk, passes along the wall. For a moment, you are transfixed, wondering where the lights are, how someone as tall as him doesn’t interrupt or break the lines of their imagined flesh, until he reaches one arm up and runs his fingers down the wall.

Slowly, gently, sweetly, he caresses these false animals, long fingers offering a gentle touch to the wall, and you step forwarding, moved by his bravery. Peering at his profile, you regard his serene smile and half-formed dimple at the corner of his cheek, softening for him as the seconds pass. Mirroring his actions, you do the same, running your hand down the wall and feeling the fabric, stroking the necks and limbs and arms of animals, the press of your fingers sending flower petals cascading to the floor, gathering, and not gathering at all, at your feet.

Chanyeol smiles at you, pleased with the entropy you have introduced, and walks down the hall with his hand still at the wall, touching and touching all he is allowed with the same tenderness he would provide a lover. It seems, to you, that he will never truly have his fill of the sensation of feeling, the smile he wears too satisfied with himself to really pull away, only doing so when the wall ends and he absolutely must. Standing in front of a new room, his hands clench into fists, wanting to touch but refraining from smearing his prints on the glass.

He leads you further into the museum, into a room full of lights and lights and lights, strung from the ceiling and glimmering not unlike diamonds. It takes you a moment to realize the lights are just that, and not refined quartz, natural pieces of the earth uprooted to display their shine. Chanyeol weaves away from you, looking at you over his shoulder with a playful, tempestuous grin, and you struggle to keep up with him, his long limbs carrying him away faster than you can move through the crowd.

Alone in an open expanse of light, you turn and turn, spinning in circles looking for him, rationalizing this sudden separation and wondering if abandonment always feels so abrupt; if you, and your over eager feet, did this to him, pushing beyond your limits out of righteous indignation. Was it always going to be this way? Would you always find yourself in solitude, just when things started to feel good?

From the distance, you hear Chanyeol’s voice and the noise of delight he releases, a sound that says he found what he’s looking for. You almost see his shadow, the length of him mirrored and rendered into an iridescent form behind the lights, a luminous mirage in an oasis of illusions.

‘Y/N,’ he calls, voice rippling through the room with some restraint, his efforts of being polite likely going unnoticed. ‘Watch this.’

At once, the lights change from soft hues of green and pink and purple to white, pure and endless white, the room igniting in a flash before turning blue and blue and blue, the sound of rain consuming the room. All at once and all over again, you feel weightless, as if the limits of nature and the limits of physics could no longer root you to the earth.

But then, you suppose, that is the point.

Limits don’t exist, likely never existed at all, your own mind creating the borders just to give structure and rules to things never meant to be thought through, only felt. Always felt and touched and bent by your hands and no one else's, and you find you thrive when there are no rules, just light and sound and art and Chanyeol; always Chanyeol, leading you into the light and ensuring you feel it.

The light hits you like a flood, shimmering in all the ways you wish you could. Your clothes and skin and hands become kindling for alchemy, granting you permission to glow, still differently than the holy way Chanyeol seems to smolder within the magic. On you, it attaches and pulls at you, breaking the boundaries of your flesh until you stand, palms up and regarding the ceiling, feeling a mist the sound of rain surely did not bring with it. But still, you are wet, wet with tears and relief and memory, emptying yourself of the things you keep buried within, letting them run free simply because Chanyeol gave you the aural, cosmic permission to do so.

He comes to stand before you as the lights turn to a shade of red, the glimmer making his dark hair appear auburn and putting a false flush at his cheeks. His very presence seems to change the atmosphere, molding the energy to fit and suit him, your own breath halting in your lungs, your blood, your heart, giving you pause to take him in, making room to fit him inside and never let him free.

‘Beautiful, wasn’t it?’ he asks, soft and thoughtful and the quietest he’s been all day. ‘That’s my favourite.’

You can only manage a slight nod, too vulnerable to give shape to words, fully aware the sound of your own voice would break you. Chanyeol steps closer, the lights behind and around you changing from red to purple, romantic in their shift, and the electric shock between you both looms, running down the light strings the same way it runs down your nerves.

‘Do you want to get some tea?’ he tries, keeping his tone even and soothing.

Once again, you nod, needing to be near him and needing to feel close, healed, and warmed by something other than the sight of his deep, affectionate eyes.

The pressure of your tea cup on the table causes flowers to bloom, a trick of light and science that makes it hard for you to speak for a long time. Your flowers are different from his, all pink and yellow and gold, where his swirl in deep shades of purple, the rich green of his leaves sprawling not unlike ivy, reaching, as best they can, towards your petals.

'This was meant to be my honeymoon,' you announce abruptly, keeping your eyes fixed on the foamy liquid and watching the petals bloom in your cup. Mentally, you compare them to the blossoms that line the street and the park, aware that these colours are too strong to be natural, but are equally as ephemeral.

Chanyeol doesn't say anything, just watches you patiently, expectant.

'I have two for everything,' you continue, running your finger over the petals and watching them bleed into your skin. 'It's cheaper to travel as two, in every sense. No one ever wants you to go alone, or go alone and feel good about it.'

'Why did it end?' As soon as he says it, he recoils, apologetic. 'I'm sorry if that's personal.'

Hissing through your teeth, you sigh. 'He didn't cheat on me, if that's what you're asking.'

'I don't really know what I should be asking,’ he counters, still so resolutely encouraging, ‘but I'm glad that's not true.'

'I wish he did,' you admit bitterly. 'It would have made sense. There would have been a reason.'

Chanyeol softens, hand coming to rest on the table, inching forward and back again. 'That's okay,' he reassures. 'Sometimes, things just don't work out.'

'He was perfect.’ You aren’t really sure why you say it, aware that you are announcing things you would share in a conversation with someone else. Perhaps that’s what this is, a conversation with no one, not even Chanyeol. 'Anyone would have loved him.'

Still, he smiles. 'But anyone doesn't have you be you.'

When you turn to face him, your expression feels cold, and you wait for him to reel back, shocked and pained, but he remains calm and patient. You love him, then, love him and hate him all at once.

'I could have.'

'So why didn't you?'

“Are we spending too much time together?” you asked, the sadness in your chest pulling at your lungs, tearing the nodes in the hopes of creating irreparable fissures.

“No?” he replied, also a question and sounding just as distressed as you.

You shook your head. “We are.” It was so obvious. Everything, to you, was so obvious. “We’re starting to sound like one another.”

It was such a silly thing to say, silly and cruel. You were so aware of it, of his crestfallen expression and the way you burdened him just by letting him know, by letting him see. Doubt painted his features, and you felt guilty for the thrill of watching him collapse.

“I just want to sound like me again.” This too, should have been obvious, but it crept up on you, slowly and when you absolutely didn’t want to look. “I don’t really don’t even understand my references, anymore.”

All you can do is look at him, look at him and smile in a way that feels hollow. But Chanyeol, for all his goodness and all his kindness, doesn’t seem to mind, he merely smiles back in a way that does not demand words. With him, there is no pressure, simply the understanding that not every question deserves or has ownership of an answer.

Chanyeol, for all his boyish charms, is the first to understand that, sometimes, questions just are and you cannot expect them to be solved.

Beside your glass teacup, your phone rings, silent and depicting the face of a person you’ve spent days trying to let down easily.

You decline the call.

The petals in your cup begin to fade.

Akihabara is his idea, silent suggestion tucked at the corner of his mouth, nestled behind his smile. A suggestion after a late lunch that leads you, seemingly aimlessly, to a train, an alley, and his outstretched hand, extended calmly and held in pause, waiting for you to take it and to not let go. It’s likely he does this to ensure you do not get lost in the throng of people, the tight crowd of commuters making their way home or simply making their way, shaking off the energy of a long shift - or, perhaps, still at work, likely in the last third of their work day, seeking a brief release in the form of distraction.

It’s likely he does this so that you do not get separated, but the tightness with which he holds you puts hope in your chest, a hope that he clings to you so desperately because the fear of separation runs deep and runs longer than either of you would like to admit. It’s nice to think this way, even if the sense of power it provides is fleeting.

But he offers you his hand, assumes that you will follow, assumes, beyond any measure of doubt, that you will be beside him, his mirror, and expects little else from you at all, undemanding of anything except your company.

At sunset, it's hard to fathom anything more golden - the river swallowing the sky and taking it whole, reflecting that which they consume like a jealous lover, proud and greedy. Chanyeol is all smiles and loud laughs, weaving through the people, the overwhelm, to show you everything - everything, yet conversely, nothing at all, at home with the chaos.

The city seems pregnant with potential, a gleam of untapped and just bloomed magic starting to unfurl within the lights, the rate of change a slow descent that eases you into another universe altogether - seen always without being seen until the totality of it is noticed all at once.

And when the sun disappears from view, the blue black of early night casting its protective shadow over the earth, Akihabara changes the sky. All at once, it is a metamorphosis of progress that eats the cosmos, transmutes the atoms and the clouds and the stars into fuel for its electric sheen. It's impossible to know where to look, if you should look anywhere at all apart from Chanyeol. The neon lighting of the signs puts shadows on his cheekbones, cuts his jaw into a rough shape that turns him from a boy into a man, his smile neither menacing nor tempting, simply alive and aware, a man in his element, brought to life by the electric current of energy.

It's a sensory overload, the city street and Chanyeol's protective, possessive grip. With his hand clasped tightly in yours, the light burrows beneath your skin, seeking the pores along your flesh and rooting itself down and down, into your inbetween. Every stroke of his thumb against your knuckles, every laugh, is an electric shock traversing your nerves and pushing you the edge of excitement.

You keep your eyes trained on the tips of his ears and the smooth line of his neck, his long legs always a few steps ahead of you - like he’s figured it out and like he’s lived this street hundreds and hundreds of times. Store signs pop on as you pass, and his ears catch the light, the tips taking on every shade of the rainbow, and your own heart struggling to memorize the person he becomes under each.

There’s something wild about this feeling, the admiration and the adoration of watching these asymmetrical pieces of him become beautiful and charming, that reminds you of craving, of the intensity of it, and, most of all, of the hunger that always seems to follow. It’s been years since you’ve wanted someone, wanted them beyond comfort and understanding, wanted someone and the mess of having to learn them all over again, aware that true intimacy follows and accumulates over time. But desire, desire always comes first, and it is always what makes you want to let a person in.

Chanyeol stops abruptly at a taiyaki vendor, eyes wide and full of fascination as he lingers by the window, watching the red bean paste rhythmically get dropped into dough molds. Still, he does not release your hand, only squeezes it twice, ensuring he has your attention, your touch, and your focus.

‘Have you ever had one of these?’ he asks, still watching the chefs and the mold press.

You hum. ‘Yeah, in New York there’s a place that makes them. Obviously, I’m sure these are better.’

He turns to you, wrapped in a state of pleasure and excitement, and everything about him is infectious. You smile at him, simply happy to be smiling with him, and he pulls you along, ordering one pastry in skilled Japanese. Blinking at him, you watch as he speaks with the cashier, wondering how you could have missed such a practiced accent or confident speech pattern, but quickly remember it was you with the tickets, you who spoke first, and even at lunch, you ordered separately, walking away from him to wait patiently at a table.

So much of him you’ve missed or glossed over, so much of the man he is rather than his heart escaping your attention, and when he holds his treat in his hand, you find it difficult to look away from him, watching him take a large, impressive bite.

Once again, a laugh erupts from your chest, and he pauses mid bite, regarding you with curious eyes.

‘Your mouth is so big,’ you clarify, and he smiles, proud and laughing with you as he continues to eat. ‘It’s just so impressive.’

Chanyeol closes his eyes happily as he eats, giggling in delight at your pleasure or the pastry, or maybe both, content with every detail of the moment. Smirking, he tilts the pastry towards you offering a bite, and the simple generosity of this action halts your breath in its path. This is intimate, should not be so intimate, especially when you are aware, so aware, of the true meaning of the word, but still it settles over you, like dust and the light and the acceptance that, again, you feel good about the risk you’ve taken.

Placing your lips where his have been, you wonder idly if the sweetness on your tongue is the dough, the sugar, or him, a residue left behind comprised of his laugh, his words, his soul filling your mouth and keeping it wet and wet, inspired to transform into someone else. Neither new nor different, just cleansed.

You chew slowly and he keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your reaction, and the intensity of his stare, the heat and the wonder sends you reeling.

You told him even though he said, clearly and repeatedly, that he didn’t want to know. He didn’t need to. Think of him what you will, he was smart, smarter than you ever gave him credit for, and he already knew. Saying it would just confirm his doubt, breaking him all over again in the most unnecessarily cruel way.

“I have something to tell you,” you announced, even though you both already knew.

“Not tonight.”

But you said it anyway, aware that every tomorrow hinged on his reaction, whether it would mean losing himself or losing you. You just wanted to know which he would choose, waiting to see which direction he’d take.

‘It’s sweet,’ you say, watching Chanyeol beam and nod and agree, delighted. ‘Sweeter than the one I had before.

He takes the pastry back and swallows the marks your teeth made whole, turning away to chew and watching as the cars pass along the street. Sugar lingers on the corner of his mouth as he eats, lips and cheeks sweet in a full pout as he savors the pastry, but you can’t really look away from. Tokyo is diverting and distracting, but you can’t fathom a better view.

'Hold on,' you laugh, his pause of confusion entirely too endearing for a man his age, however hold he is or is not. 'You have something on your...'

You might never know what compels you to reach up, your finger extended and your touch gentle, moving the sugar away with one slow, languid swipe. You decide it's another question that likely will never have an answer, because there is no answer, but just as quickly as you also decide it does not matter. Chanyeol's smile of gratitude is bewitching, the blue and green lights pulling the gold and red from his skin, and the reverent way he looks at you answer enough.

For several moments, you remain this way, silently regarding one another and letting thought, emotion, and need grow between you. A moment of silence in which there is no silence at all, the noise of the city a soundtrack of wanting that gets drowned out, stifled beneath the prism of affection that blooms and blossoms between your chests.

'Thank you,' he says, as though nothing at all had transpired, as though there was no pause, as though time did not stop at all. 'I'm a messy eater, sometimes.'

'I can be, too,' you muse, looking away and hoping for a distraction, a thing that should not be so difficult to find, yet still proves to be. 'He always hated that, my ex.'

Chanyeol snorts, finishing the desert with a large bite. 'I don't think that's something you can help,' he counters, mouth full.

You shrug. 'He would always laugh while he complained. I imagine he thought that made it better, like he found it endearing, but you can always tell, can't you? You can spend so long with a person you eventually can hear what they don't say, even if it's not in their tone.' Tugging your lip between your teeth, you wonder if you should continue, if it really matters. 'After so long with a person, I think your language changes, your sentences become the same, and it takes time and distance to unlearn it.'

He releases a long hum, eyebrows raised. 'I get that,' he nods, allowing you to speak without challenging anything at all.

It strikes you that he seems to understand so much of you, understands your motives, your solitude, and you imagine he would be happy with anyone. It strikes you that is is not with anyone, and you find it hard to fathom that he would be without a partner to join him.

'Why are you alone, Chanyeol?'

The question both sounds and feels abrupt, but he doesn't react unfavorably. Chanyeol pauses, crumpling the bag with one large fist, his earlier nod slowing but not halting.

'I'm sorry if that's too personal,' you clarify, reminding yourself not everyone is running or needs to. You and he are different people, even if it feels as though you have become bound together, a sensation that accumulated over time, the same way nondescript, vague senses of time do.

How long have you been together? A while.

How long have you known you love him? Not long.

'It's not,' he affirms, looking around for a bin before realizing there would not be one. Opening his bag, he licks his lips twice, wetting his mouth for the words he attempts to gather and drops the crumpled mess inside. 'It's not personal, it's just that there's no reason.' Raising his eyes to meet yours, he purses his lips in thought. 'I don't like waiting for adventure or waiting for someone to come with me. Maybe that's my flaw,' he suggests, resting his hands on the straps of his backpack as he straightens his spine. 'That I'm too impatient to properly share.'

'I don't think you need to have a flaw to want to be alone,' you reason, 'or that wanting to be alone is even a flaw at all.'

'Maybe,' he agrees, although passively. 'Come on. I want to show you the arcades.'

The game centers are a terrain you find impossible to imagine, to fathom, if you had not been given reference to start from. They pull you in from the street, yellow and red and blinding, luring you to them with the impossibly clear sheen of their glass containers. Chanyeol dives into a building, holding your hand once more and looking over his shoulder with a grin, leading you to a claw machine tucked towards the back of the room, away from heavy foot traffic.

Releasing your hand, he digs through his pockets for coins, gesturing towards a One Piece figurine he regards with competitive delight.

'I've been trying to get this since yesterday.'

The box stands tall, compressed between two plastic bars that grip it tightly, unforgiving in its hold. Your eyes narrow as you regard the stronghold the machine seems to have on the figurine, feeling confident that such a plight is futile, but he slides his coins in, lip caught between his teeth in thought as he aims the claw.

He takes great care in this process, hand delicately wrapped around the knob to guide and settle, calculated and focused. For a moment, you see him as an architect, an artist, a chemist, an alchemist, studied and careful, lovingly breathing life into things that currently do not exist. Triumphantly, he slaps the button to initiate contact, stepping back with eager interest as he watches the claw drop, the lights on the machine sparkling and playing music to maximize the tension.

He is unsuccessful.

'Damn,' he curses, but still his smile remains, reaching up to his cheeks and replacing the dimple you did not know you missed.

Eyeing him conspicuously, you cock your head to the side, gaze moving between him and the machine. 'Isn't this all just a cash grab? A way to waste your money?'

'Sure,' he agrees, sliding another coin into the slot. 'But it's nice to forget for a while, isn't it? It's the thrill, the tangibility of maybe, possibly. Gambling thrives because the odds never appear to be out of our favor, and we all like proving ourselves wrong.'

The last few syllables to his words take on a lilt of loneliness, and you are unsure how to argue with him or this feeling, given that he does not leave any space for it. But, for a while, you are content to watch him, watch the way his smile never seems to disappear, not even from his eyes as he tries and loses and tries, and loses again. Six rounds pass and still he is unsuccessful, and you wonder when you got so engaged with the rise and fall of a claw, but you know the real question is: when did you get so addicted to a stranger who promises the world but delivers the sun, a man who never really lets joy die?

When he leaves to go change a cash note for more coins, you depart too, in the opposite direction, the machine losing its glamour as soon as he disappears. Aimlessly, you wander, walking down aisles and rows, looking in without really looking, hoping to maybe find your own game to play.

Around the corner from Chanyeol's game, you find a claw machine with a set of towels trapped inside, something you don't need, but remember needing, wanting, and putting on your registry with a soft smile, finally feeling optimistic about your future.

"We don't need these," he countered. "We've lived together for two years. Shouldn't we ask for money for the honeymoon? Something we can’t buy everyday?"

"That's practical, sure, but these are nice." They were so lovely. When you were young, you imagined having towels just like these once your got married - adult towels, wedding towels you sometimes called them - towels that proved you were Of Age and ready, but for what you did not know.

Even now, you do not know.

You do not need these, but they're sweet, the characters of My Neighbor Totoro woven into the fabric and a silk lotus leaf shimmering in the light. You do not need these, much the same way Chanyeol likely does not need an anime figurine, but they are nice and they are charming, and there's something about the possibility of winning something, even if it is useless, that makes you slide a coin into the slot.

Time disappears around you, much the same as your money, but you don't think about that. Not truly. It's the first time you don't think about the loss or gain of money in years, mind falling back in time once more.

"Why don't we leave the list on the refrigerator?" he suggested, as though he were talking about a shopping list, a list of needs for the apartment, a bucket list.

"Do you want to?" you asked. But what what you meant to say was: I don't want people seeing how much I owe you. I don't want anyone to know how much we've invested in one another.

There's a nostalgia to the claw machine, something that feels like a regression and resulting in little else than making you feel young, as though you never really grew up at all. Somewhere along the way, you buried the child in your heart, tucked her deep inside and left her in the shadows, abandoning the sense of play that came with living. You're not sure how long you stand there, sliding coins and sliding the claw, focused and diligent, buying happiness rather than buying towels.

And when they fall into the slot, the thrill of success runs through your fingers, eyes wide in amazement because, yes, this was far easier than you thought it would be, and you stand still, shocked and pink with the joy of it. You blink a few times, lips parted in a daze, catching up with reality and yourself, remembering both the you you've become and the you you lost precisely at the same moment.

'Did you win?'

Chanyeol's voice resonates around the room, enthusiastically encouraging and sounding pleased as the machine plays celebratory music.

Glancing up at him, you're aware your expression appears torn, wanting to celebrate and wanting to return the towels, likely having paid far more than they were worth. But he beams at you, proud and happy, and you find that you are happy too. They are not adult towels, not even wedding towels, but they are yours - the first frivolous thing you've bought in years and the lack of consideration you gave to them feels impossibly, delightfully refreshing.

'Yeah,' you laugh, unable to look away from the ecstasy that adorns his smile, 'I did.'

Chanyeol releases a yell and lifts his hand, demanding a high five, acting as though these towels are an award and offering you more praise than you deserve. 'Let me see.'

Pulling them from the slot, he leans over your shoulder, inadvertently tucking you against his chest, and sharing his warmth, his breath, his radiance. You settle against him, holding the box in your hands and admiring the neat stitching, wondering if you too could learn to embroider. But it feels natural, you think, to smile this much and to feel this warm and to win so easily, even if these experiences are transient at best. It feels natural under his chin and against his heartbeat, your hands clutching the plastic as a means of keeping them to yourself, wishing instead it was his hands you had won.

It feels natural, hearing how vital he is and feeling how alive he is and knowing, with all of you, that underneath your years of pretend and experience and regret, you are exactly the same as him: enraptured by the beauty of the universe and demanding you hold it in your palms, never letting it go.

'These are so you,' he announces, breaking your thoughts with a low whisper.

You swallow thickly, always caught off guard when he's quiet and his voice takes on a rasp that makes him sound aged, beyond time. Looking up at him, you let yourself become awed by his soft expression, curious and enamoured. 'How do you know?'

Again, your voice is breathless when speaking with him, and you wonder if this is truly his habit. If maybe, more than anything, his talent is taking your breath away.

'You're like Satsuki,' he says simply, as though this is answer enough. 'You're Satsuki and I'm Totoro.'

It's not an answer you expected, mind falling through the layers of such a statement as he departs from you. Is it his height that makes him Totoro? His propensity for cute, magical things? His service to you? Or, perhaps, his heart, his devotion and loyalty and awareness that you are alone, by choice but not really by desire, not anymore you think, his heart able to see straight to your core before you could grant yourself permission.

Chanyeol returns before you can decide what he means, shaking a bag with the word WINNER printed over and over on the plastic. Wordlessly, he takes your towels and drops them inside, handing you the bag looking pleased.

'I wasn't nearly as successful,' he says with a small pout. 'But, I did get this.'

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a plush Rilakkuma keychain, the item almost dwarfed in his large palm. Immediately, you erupt into laughter.

'That's absolutely hideous.'

Chanyeol laughs too, giggling at the poorly sewn face and unsettling clown pattern. 'I know,' he says, happily. 'It's horrendous. I don't want it.'

'Then why did you bother?' you ask, laughter fading while your cheeks still ache from the force of your smile.

'Why wouldn't I?'

He simply shrugs, as elated with his success as he is yours, proud and proud and moving through the arcade back into the street, and taking the light with him.

Half past midnight and karaoke feels like the only logical thing to do, the only place you think you'd truly be welcome at this hour - the hour late, your body tired, but still unwilling to leave Chanyeol.

Throughout the day and all over the city, you'd seen the signs for a place called Big Echo, their sprawl and reach, white sign looming from the corner of some of the most menacing sky scrapers, enough to lure you in. Their contrast keeps you curious, office buildings standing above you, higher than most buildings you remember seeing in other cities, windows black and impenetrable with a sign that heralds hours of karaoke. It's impossible to understand, and you are glad for this incongruity.

Most of all, you find you are hungry. Chanyeol kept you out in Akihabara well past dinner, dining on street food and winding from arcade to arcade, and now, emerging from Shibuya station, you are looking for something more to fill your stomach. He pulls you along, links your arms together as you walk, bound and united and happy, holding you against him as though it is where you belong.

This late at night, Shibuya makes your eyes hurt, the colours and signs frenetic and fractious in their vibrancy, demanding your attention, your focus, perhaps even your soul. Chanyeol's eyes sparkle as he looks from sign to sign, smiling upwards at nothing at all while you smile directly at him, keeping your gaze trained on his ecstatic pleasure in the effort of ensuring your heart gets used to it.

You know that it won't, that no matter how long you spend with him you will always be caught off guard by his beauty, by the way even his dark hair appears illuminated in these lights. He seems to eat the stars while the light feasts on him, a give and take of reciprocal lumosity and, somehow, you have been selected to watch. Even in a crowd as immense as this, you know you'd find him, drawn to him, heart seeking its magnet.

Standing on Shibuya crossing, Chanyeol pulls you close, rests his free hand on your arm and leans gingerly to your ear, close enough to feel his breath move through your hair. Naturally and instinct, you lean into him, positive that you will likely never be close enough, hoping and wishing that his lips will graze your skin, thinking you might finally know the true definition of bliss in the wake of such a happy accident.

'When we cross,' he says, close enough to rest his head against yours, lips kissing at the shell of your ear as he speaks and your heart breaking and reshaping in one single instant, 'don't let go of me. Don't let go but make sure you watch.'

'I won't,' you say, tightening your grip even though a crowd like this does not phase you, Times Square at Christmas an entirely different sort of test. But you tighten anyway, keeping him close, certain that he will try to rush ahead of you and, for just this once, you want him to be yours. 'I won't.'

The crossing sign turns green and all at once you are taken by it, moving forward as though something as simple as this has purpose, meaning, a symbolism of initiation you will bear as a cross. A smile pulls at your lips, widening with each step, feeling anonymous and feeling terribly insignificant, drowning in a sea of people with Chanyeol as your oar.

Someone laughs. You think it might be you. Another takes a picture. You know it is not Chanyeol. Lifetimes and stories pass you by, and you are drunk on it, wired into obsession simply because you feel as though you've crossed the world again and again, forty steps and still more angles to traverse the same path, new ways to witness the same thing. Different people, the same shape, nothing ever really the same again.

The Big Echo is tucked inside a dark amber building housing offices, stores, and restaurants. The elevator to the eighth floor seems far too elegant to be taking you to karaoke, a place where most people drink to celebrate or drink to forget or simply drink, aware that it is Friday or Sunday and the weekend has passed by with the same unyielding speed as life itself. Comprised of floor to ceiling mirrors, you and Chanyeol, standing side by side, are eternally, endlessly refracted into infinity.

Yet, in every reflection, every angle, all you can truly see is him.

At such close proximity, the closest you've ever really been - with no way out and only one way in - and the most alone you've ever been, you are suddenly aware of his strength and magnitude. Eyes drawn to the length of his arms, you regard the veins that rise as canyons down to his hands, keeping the secret of his power within his knuckles and joints. The tattoos adorning the skin captivate you, their pointillism blackness so rich and detailed, standing out on him better than you've ever seen on anyone else, the darkness resting on him with the same pride as the light.

Lifting your gaze, you study the regal line of his posture, the confidence rooted in his spine and shoulders, and feel your fingers twitch. You have held men before, held a lover in your arms and against your body, aware of the weight and aware of the heat, but never have you wanted to hold anyone quite so solidly, or quite so physically.

You wait for him to stop you, so obvious in focus you devote to his features, but he does not, simply inches closer, wordlessly encouraging your stare. And you do, letting yourself become haunted by the slope of his lips, the false phantom memory of their touch igniting along your skin. Perhaps it is your awareness of his dimples, the clandestine softness he keeps nestled at the corner of his mouth, that keeps you on the edge of anticipation, hoping and hoping to see them again.

Like this, you drink him in, admiring the tips of his ears and the thick, softness of his hair that makes your fingers begin to ache. How would it feel to card your fingers through the strands? Would he smile and lean into the touch? Would he watch you, eyes wide and speechless at the gentleness you'd provide? Would he ask you to do it again and again, craving your hand and your warmth, as badly as you seem to be craving his?

This was always your biggest flaw, you think, hyper aware of your detachment and the way your mind would always wander. During sex, during dinner, during long drives, or even during conversation. Always, he would find you looking away, looking nowhere, hearing without listening, seeing without witnessing, and he would call you back, asking where you went.

But you always wanted to say the most important thing was that you looked back. Always, you would return to him.

With Chanyeol, it’s impossible to be anywhere other than absolutely with him, resolutely and down to your core. To look away from him would mean pain; to break away from him would hurt, sever parts of you long buried but still connected, still whole, still vital, just neglected. And the same way you refuse to depart from him, so too does your skin refuse to truly let him go. The press of his body against yours is a preview to all the wishes that settle on you like a fever, sending a flush of heat up your chest and neck, and down to your thighs, wanting to be full of him.

And so you don’t look away. You simply won’t, aware and waiting, feeling his touch before and without it happening, imagination running wild while your heart battles against your sternum.

Feeling your gaze on him, he turns to look at you, on floor six when there's so little time to truly have all of him, but he blushes, receptive to the ferocity of you. Bags have taken root under his eyes, exhausted by a day of sightseeing, and giving him a puffy, purple hue, but he’s glorious in the mess of it, unable to be anything but majestic.

He keeps his eyes on you, unwavering and demanding, the most demanding he's been since you met him, turning his chest towards yours hardening, not in cruelty but with a sensuality you did not expect to see. Like this, he makes you aware that he does not only feel your gaze but relishes it, feels it deeper than you mean it to go. With one hand, he clenches the evaluator railing, leaning closer and closer while his other clenches into a fist before straightening, touching while touching nothing.

And with his eyes on you, your body wanting his body, the air in the elevator becomes thick, elevating your heart rate the same way it elevates you.

When the elevator dings, he breaks from you, lips parted and eyes searching, pupils dilated for a different kind of light and a different kind of relief. His strides are quick where yours are sluggish, wanting to remain in the bubble of desire that cradled you. But he looks back, lips wet from where his tongue has just been, knowing you are there and unable to look away.

You smile, rolling your shoulders back to lift your breasts, following blindly while not really following at all.

Settled in your private room, Chanyeol orders more food than you know what to do with, his only explanation that you said you were hungry before he takes a skewer of yakitori into his mouth, consuming it all in one go as he chooses a list of songs. His fingers are quick, selecting a number of songs and creating a queue before you even read the titles.

'I've only ever done this when I was drunk,' you admit, eyeing the digital pad with apprehension before you find the button that says ENGLISH.

'Really?' He adds a second songs, not lifting his gaze to you in the process. 'It's the most fun when you're sober.'

'It's the most embarrassing, I think you mean.' Looking up, you see he has already added nine songs. ‘How often do you do this?’

‘All the time,’ he beams. 'You just need to do it with people you trust.'

Chanyeol hits start, rising to a stand before taking another skewer into his mouth. Grabbing both microphones, he keeps his eyes trained on you and winks as Time of My Life Starts to play. The absurdity of it patterned with the sudden darkness of the room and the glow of a disco ball makes you laugh, watching him with a grin you know to be adoring, but don’t bother to mask.

'God, this song?' you laugh, rooting yourself to the floor. ‘Shall I be Jennifer and you be Bill?’

Refusing to let you sit still and hide in the shadows, he offers you the second microphone, eyeing you in earnest.

'Come on,’ he says, flicking the microphone in a gesture of lifting and delivering you to him.

'You're serious.’

You’ve done karaoke countless times, watched drunk friends and bad friends sing off key, or on no key, demanding attention and turning the evening into a concert about their pain, their nostalgia, their childhood, simply themselves. Any silliness or playfulness is always overrun by the desire to be seen, but Chanyeol holds the microphone, totally sober and fully prepared to abandon himself and his ego.

'Deadly.' The melody begins to play, yellow words turning pink, and he pouts. 'Look, you made me miss my cue.'

He doesn’t wait for your response, just places the mic in your hand and walks backwards towards the center of the room, keeping his eyes locked on yours. His eyes remain on yours as he starts to sing, exuding the kind of energy that says he could command a room if he so chose, and is aware of it. Walking into a bar with him would be like watching into a bar and watching every head turn, all eyes on him and you knowing the eyes are their eyes are there, challenging you to feel doubtful.

Chanyeol is talented, voice rich and warm, chocolate that drips down into your soul, nestling inside your blood to bring you comfort. You almost keep silent, content to spend the night listening to the way his mouth gives shape to words, the way his voice handles syllables with a tonality that speaks of unpracticed, natural ability. But he eyes you, expectant, and when you finally join him you regret not having done so sooner.

The smile he offers you is blinding, warm enough to combat the dawn, content, just as you were, to watch you for the rest of the evening. At the end of your first verse, he claps against the mic, delighted and proud, watching you with a focus he had not devoted to anything else throughout the day.

For you, karaoke comes as a relief. Having spent the majority of your life singing, it hits you, abruptly, that it has been years since you last did it freely. Moving in with a roommate boxed you in, kept you quiet in ways you weren’t sure you wanted to be, afraid of being annoying, inconvenient, or of judgement, and so you stopped. Moving in with a partner, making a home and a life, rather than a room, you tried again, only to find that this desire, too, soon began to fade.

Did he ask you to? Did he ever demand you keep quiet? You can't remember. Perhaps you just did so, returning from the shower one night to find his greeting and welcome cool, so unlike the way his smiles used to feel like champagne. You thought, then, it was your singing, a distraction from late night emails or work, but now, with Chanyeol, you think maybe it was something more, something not about you, taking on his anguish just because you thought you should.

From the start, he makes it easy and fun, song after song of terrible pop music, several you’ve never heard and others you know, and wish, secretly, that you did not. But it does not matter if the music is good or bad or even music at all because, with him, every sound is a work of art. And, with him, everything is easy. He doesn’t mention if a note is wrong and does not cringe or skip a song if he does not like it, he simply cheers, drinking and eating and laughing, joining when he knows the words and watching when he doesn’t.

Somewhere around 2AM, the alcohol refuses to leave you, your limbs heavy and restless, eager for hands and for touch, and eager to be held. At some point, he curled into you and over you, tucking you under his arm, light hearted and light headed, his nose pressed into your hair and yours into you his chest, breathing the bergamot musk into your lungs, deep enough for them to ache.

'It's going to hurt to leave you,' you announce, staring blankly at the screen.

An old woman reaches through her window to stoke the head of a yellow sparrow. The scene changes, a school girl running for her train. It changes again, none of the scenes depicted cohesive or coherent, but they bring you comfort, a confirmation that life is little more than a series of impressions.

Chanyeol moves away from you briefly, looking down at you with a small frown, lips red and wet with sake. He appears hurt, pained that you’d bring up such a suggestion, as though the alcohol has removed him from time entirely.

It would be so easy to giggle, but such a feeling is hard when you’re this drunk and this afraid of losing him. 'Don't look at me like that,' you hiss. 'It will make me want to kiss you.'

He only blinks once before he takes your face between your palms, firm and commanding, and kisses you, pulling you close against him as though he’d been waiting all day to feel you. Your hands wind around his neck, pressing against him as much as you can, ensuring that he has to tilt to keep kissing you, angling himself in the accommodating way that comprises all of the best kisses. A small noise of pleasure leaves his chest, and you smile against him, sucking his bottom lip between your teeth, invigorated.

Lifting his head, the heat in his gaze is threatening, jaw set and unwavering in the knowledge that he will not let you go so easily. A hand on your hip glides up your spine, sending a shiver up into your shoulders, as he fists a hand in your hair and tugs it, exposing the full length of your neck to him. Chanyeol latches his tongue and teeth to the tendon, rubbing circles into your hip with the same pressure his tongue provides your skin. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, grinding down into him once more for a reprieve, but he bites, hard enough to leave teeth marks and moans, a roll of thunder in his chest that makes your thighs clench.

At your core, Chanyeol's cock strains, the hard thickness of it causing wetness to pool at your underwear, eyes rolling back and vision hazy as he sucks and sucks at you, refusing to let you be free of him.

When he pulls away, your pulse quakes, blood rushing hot and heavy as you watch him, mouth wet and eyes dark, memory forever etched with the way he looks at you - certain you are the epitome of craving, and you, certain that he is all of your desires made manifest.

His gaze falls to your neck once more, a prideful grin pulling at his lips.

'Don't cover that mark tomorrow,' he demands, voice full of gravel. 'I want everyone to see it.'

Tomorrow. Today. Now. Time catching up with you all at once, shattering the drunken eternity you've created in this room. You think about waking up without him. You think of who you will be when he is not there. You feel yourself sober up, and hate it. Perhaps, you hate yourself, the feeling sickly and full of regret.

You lean down to kiss him once more, wanting to feel sheltered, but he leans away from you, eyes sensitive and scared.

'Are you still with him?' he whispers, nervous but unafraid of the question’s inherent weight, the edge of uncertainty falling in the spaces between the words.

Keeping silent, you blink at him, feeling your stomach drop.

'Your fiancé,' he presses, as though there is someone else you could have been with. 'Are you still together?'

Still you do not speak, unsure of the answer or if there is anyone apart from Chanyeol. In truth, had you ever actually been with anyone else?

'You're not wearing a ring.'

Chanyeol's voice is small, withering beneath your silence and coming up with reasons he should not be so scared. His eyes search your face, hoping for an affirmation or a confirmation, anything that would give him permission and you watch, once again, as you become a vicious thing, leaving men crestfallen in your wake.

'No, I don't want to be with him,' you murmur, aware, beyond any shadow of doubt that this statement is true. 'I know that I don't - '

Chanyeol interrupts you, the hope in his voice sharp as glass. 'So I can keep kissing you?'

You furrow your brow, feeling yourself sober up, and wishing for the warm bubble of pretend to return. 'What do you want out of this?' you ask anyway, shattering your sense of idealism.

He flinches at your question, the words sending him reeling as though they are an act of betrayal. 'Just you.'

You snort, the natural humor of the sound absent. 'You're drunk.'

He narrows his eyes, defensive. 'I'm not that drunk.'

'What will you do tomorrow?' you counter. 'It's just one night, Chanyeol.'

'Does it have to be?' he tries, the optimism he carries making acid rise in your chest.

For a moment, you try to picture it - another day with him, another day holding his hand and laughing, making noise, making a mess, making something. It's hard to fathom you'd be the only one he'd choose to do this with, and so you mirror his expression, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed.

'Do you have a girlfriend?' You don't mean for the words to sound so biting, but you feel possessive, hating yourself for it, knowing you don't have the right but letting it move through your blood, regardless. 'A boyfriend?'

'No?' he says quickly, offended. 'Do you think I'd be here if I did?'

'I don't know,' you shrug.

It's hard to imagine he wouldn't have someone wanting to follow him, someone impatient to share things with him, to see as he sees and to laugh and cry and yell as loud as he does. Impossible, you think, to imagine him alone, and so you justify your questions with the sense that he deserves someone, even if you don't deserve him.

But Chanyeol still sees through you, does not let you escape or make it about him, his expression becoming hard. 'Not everyone is running, Y/N.'

Leaning back, you frown. 'I didn't say you'd be running.'

Sliding off his hips, you settle back on the couch, facing the screen and not him, neither afraid nor unwilling to look at him, mostly uncertain what it would mean for you if you did. All day, his eyes on you have been pretty. You're not sure you can handle another cold stare.

'Is it so hard to fathom that I could want to spend all day with you, because I want to?' he demands, words curt and tone clipped.

Bristling, you look at him, falling back into a pattern of control and detachment, heart breaking all over again, this time infinitely, indescribably worse. 'I don't know. Maybe? Strangers don't do this.'

He laughs, the sound empty. 'This is how a lot of people meet. You're just so used to your boxed structure.'

It happens quickly, the firing of your nerves that tell you to leave, the motions of your hands as you gather your things, messy and disorganized. You did this before, not long ago, mind vacant and body acting in its own reaction, but this time, you are present. This time, you are aware of the hurtful experience of running, hurting yourself, for the first time, in the process.

'This was a bad idea,' you mumble, hearing yourself say it and hating that you do.

Chanyeol stands, moving to stop you before stopping himself, the boundaries suddenly drawn and nowhere for him to fit. 'No, please don't -'

You cut him off, moving past him towards the door. 'I'll pay for my share at the till.'

Chanyeol reaches for you, but you're already too far, far beyond the length of his arms. 'No, please - '

The sound of his voice echoes, even after the door shuts.

Shibuya without Chanyeol is cold, more shades of blue than you had noticed before, and you shiver, dropping your bag to put on your coat. Even with it wrapped tightly around you, you still shiver, missing him but, mostly, missing yourself.

The trains are no longer running - you remember reading this before you came, preparing for a city that only pretends to sleep - but Shibuya is still busy. The faces surrounding you are no longer fascinating or full of stories, but the gaunt faces of the lost and lonely, the tired and groups of people too social to notice they are actually alone.

You're not sure how long you stand on the sidewalk, watching people pass and wondering where you fit with them. Do their eyes follow you too, the sake still warm on your cheeks but your eyes alive with rage and frustration and sadness? Do they watch you cry? It's strange, you think, to feel parts of yourself become damp with emotion while the rest of you remains still and expressionless.

Strange, you think, to remember the person you were when you were drunk, drunk on Chanyeol, drunk since 9AM, at the same time as you remember and relearn this you, the sober you, who misses Chanyeol more than the man you signed a lease with.

'Please don't run away from me like that again.'

Chanyeol's voice emerges behind you, sounding breathless and terrified, but commanding. In this, he is unwavering, delivering an order as though he as the right.

Turning to face him, you crumble, seeing the wetness at his cheeks that mirrors your own, the mess of his hair, and the change you've brought onto him. Now, he does not smile. Now, he does not glow, the light stolen by your hands and your words, reducing him to an ashen state of grief.

'Isn't that dangerous, Chanyeol?' you try, focusing on keeping your voice calm. 'That you don't want me to? We don't know each other.'

He takes several steps closer, not letting you get away. 'I'm telling you I want to get to know you.'

'I leave everyone first.' You're not sure what it is about him that makes you say this, his eyes and his desperation pulling your greatest anxiety from your chest, but you keep talking, hoping he didn't hear and hoping he's still too drunk to care. 'I'm not worth this and I have a mess back home. I don't even know where you live?'

He laughs, looking past you momentarily, patronizing were it not for the shimmer of tears on his cheeks. 'Geography doesn't really matter when you have technology.'

'So, what?' you counter, bewildered. 'You want to date me? After a day?'

'No!' he says, looking back at you, running a hand through his hair. 'I don't know!'

'That's the point, Chanyeol!' Hearing your voice echo through the air, you look around, silently apologizing for interrupting the conversations of those around you, but there is no one, just you and him, and the eyes of everyone else not on you. 'You're so used to just going through it alone and making a fantasy out of everything. That's not real! There's nothing about that mindset that lasts!'

'And what about you?' he counters without hesitation. 'Acting like you know me when you've been too selfish to ask anything all day, talking about yourself even when you're trying to talk about me?'

Blinking at him, you regard him in silence, thinking back on the day and the words you've shared and the questions you've asked and realize he's right. Throughout the day, Chanyeol has been nothing but himself, unapologetically forthcoming when the question is asked, honest and supportive, and completely unselfish. Now, with him standing before you, looking empowered and looking violent in his need to be understood, you realize you'd only let yourself see half of him.

And this part, this new, emboldened part, excites you even more than the softness he carries.

'You got hurt,' he finishes, jaw set and tense, 'but you and I both know you hurt yourself.'

It's the fury in Chanyeol's eyes that ignites you, the raw and vulnerable tether to the totality of human emotion that puts a flame in the center of your chest, warming you and waking you. You cannot recall the last time you've seen someone mad, or had an argument that felt just as wild and passionate and important as you needed it be. Years have passed in which you were never allowed to be angry, only sad, the fire in your chest deemed dangerous, and brutal, and cruel, and absolutely never meant to be shared.

Years where every expression of emotion went against the way you needed it to feel - productive and intense and whole - reduced and belittled to just the embers of grief.

'You're right,' you admit, honest in your concession but still unforgiving in your honesty. 'I unmade myself for someone totally wrong for me. But you can't tell me you think you can be that hero. Don't be naive enough to think you can heal me. You know nothing about me.'

"I am constantly saving you from yourself!" you shouted, smiling at the way your voice sounded, beautiful in its natural timber of loudness.

The paradoxical contrast of how it sounded to how you felt - exhausted, burdened - made you want to laugh, but you held back, aware that one battle cry was enough for the evening.

"Why are you so angry?" he pleaded, the shallow edge to his voice infuriating you. “Why do you always resort to anger?”

"I can't be your wife and also be your hero. I don’t have that in me."

A death sentence. A gesture that would permanently be yours.

'I've been watching you put yourself back together all day,' Chanyeol retorts, matching the volume of your voice. 'All day it's been you, doing things because you want to, not because you had to. I know, with confidence, that you don't need me. But I'm saying I still want to be here. For you. I had too good of a time with you for it to mean nothing.'

The passion and raw veracity in his tone sends you reeling, and you sway, at once unsteady in this feeling. In one day, just one day, Chanyeol has proved he knows how to fight for you, the way you always needed someone to - with violence and impatience and a blunt, almost menacing honesty. You'd softened yourself for someone, surrendered pieces of yourself in the acceptance of comfort, neither love nor desire nor attraction, just safety, assuming this is what it meant to feel secure.

In one fell swoop, Chanyeol had unmade you, unmade these falsehoods and rendered you back together, somehow already having learned the map and the truth of you.

And as you watch him, chest heaving as though he had been to war and won; arms crossed over his chest, in victory rather than defense, you agree, smiling, aware that you haven't felt this good about anyone, not once, not in your whole life.

'I know what you mean,' you murmur, knowing that he hears you, would likely always hear you.

As if he's had enough of being apart from you, he steps forward, unfurling his arms and reaching for your hand, twining your fingers together. Whole conversations live and die between you, conversations that don't require words, the understanding that there is no requirement to have your plans defined, the mess of learning one another and learning your way through connection infinitely more exciting. Forehead resting against yours, he closes his eyes and breathes deep, his inhale uneven and warped with emotion.

'Come back to my hotel with me,' he whispers, keeping his eyes closed.

Closing your own eyes, you smile. 'Okay.' It feels good to take this risk, to be uncertain and to be passionate and keep him for as long as you are allowed. 'I have to go back to mine for clothes.'

Pulling away from you, he extends his hand, impatient. 'Let me see your phone.'

When you hand it to him, he opens the camera and leans down for a selfie, and this time, you make a face you haven't made since you were twenty-six and standing on the precipice of choosing security - you cross your eyes and stick out your tongue.

Chanyeol laughs, a messy uneven sound that makes you blush as you watch him stare at the picture.

Returning to the home screen, he presses the home button and turns it to face you. 'Unlock this for me?'

Pulling out his own phone, he calls himself and adds the numbers to both, intently focused on this task as though it is his lifeline. You remember getting the number of your ex - the man you left behind and have no desire to return to - and how getting that number felt practical, a need in order to coordinate rides to work or rides to mutual friends houses. A passionless exchange that grew into the pretense of passion, empty of chemistry from the moment you typed the digits.

'There,' he says, handing your phone back. 'Now we won't lose each other.'

Staring at his number, his name, the sakura flower emoji on either side of the letters, you smile, feeling twitterpated. 'You're serious about this, aren't you?'

'There's so much about me you don't know.' His smile is devilish, possessive. 'I'm greedy and impulsive, and right now I'm selfish. I want you to myself. I never make promises, but I promise you right now I believe there's something here.'

It's the kind of things you would have said before you had to change or settle for someone who kept you comfortable, safe but entirely not yourself. Long ago, at a bar or in bed or on a street with someone who made you feel wanted, you would have said these same things.

Had the tables been turned, you would have said them to Chanyeol - you imagine you will say them to him, different words with the same impact.

'Let me get my things.' A statement with no direction, your eyes wandering over the streets looking for a taxi or a landmark to center your location in relation to your hotel. 'I gave you breakfast yesterday,' you say, glancing at him with a coy grin. 'It's your turn.'

Chanyeol laughs. 'You got it.'

Unable to contain it, he leans down to kiss you once more, pulling you flush against him and kissing you first with his soul and then with his mouth. Now, you are completely sober, the cool night breeze and Chanyeol's rough words having dissolved the alcohol and your light sense of affection, replacing it with the fervor of ardor you'd been aching for. With his hands on you, pressing into the muscles of your back, and his lips moving against yours, smiling and laughing and kissing you over and over, you realize it's the first time you've ever felt anything from a kiss.

Now, you let him swallow your breath whole, willingly and without protest. He kisses you until you feel dizzy. He kisses you until you both are gasping, until you remember these sorts of displays are unfit for Japanese streets, and you break apart laughing at the thrill of breaking rules.

'I've never wanted to do that with anyone as much as I want to with you,' he admits, resting his forehead against yours once more, looking bashful.

You hum, attempting to prolong your absence from him. 'Me too.'

Slowly, you pull away from him, separating only when you absolutely must, Chanyeol holding into your hand until he absolutely cannot anymore. You walk backwards, much like he did at karaoke and much like you think you will always do, never wanting to look away from him.

When you finally do, you pull out your phone, walking in a direction you assume to be correct while you open the map on your phone.

Your phone rings.

A laugh erupts from your chest.

You pick up the call.

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sooibian · 5 years ago

Text

Stranger Things (2)

Pairing: Baekhyun x fem!Reader ft. Kyungsoo, Mark Lee, Jongdae (if you squint)

Description: You met an obnoxious lawyer at the airport and fell stupidly in “love” but little did you know, his heart belonged to someone else.

Themes: Fluff, crack, stupid OC, Mark Lee’s debut with a law firm, organic cucumbers, cowsheds, corgis, farmer!Soo, lawyer!Baek

A/N: This was not supposed to happen but four people asked for it and that’s really all it takes to get me to do something. I was SO tempted to title this - Of Cowsheds and Corgis!! This fic is ridiculous and very predictable but I gave up on the angst I was writing for this because ridiculous is just what I need right now. I truly hope you’re all safe and healthy!

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four (Final)

Groaning, you put down your second ‘fruit platter’ with a deliberate clang on Kyungsoo’s bedside table. Nothing. “Yah! Did you catch narcolepsy in that ridiculously mind numbing hamlet?” The skinny end of your chopstick slowly made its way to the sole of his left foot. Still nothing. Panic swelled within you and you crawled over to his side to check his breathing. He was breathing, alright.

“Eomma!” You bellowed. Maybe it was time for the third medley of diced apples and bananas.

Still nothing.

***

“Sloth.” You took a jibe at a barely awake Kyungsoo.

“Creep.”

“Creep?”

“You were watching me sleep!”

“I was waiting for you to wake up! There’s a difference, Snorlax.”

“Patience - -”, his mouth fell open in a huge yawn.

“Isn’t my greatest virtue. Yeah, I know. You’ve said it a million times. It’s etched in my heart. I’ll get it tattooed across my forehead. Now spill.”

For a moment Kyungsoo looked confused before diving into his fruit platter with a half-suppressed snicker.

“What?” You attacked his stupid bespectacled face with a pillow. When was the last time he got a change of glasses? He’s worn this thick-rimmed atrocity forever. Although the man was optically challenged, his hearing was more than just fine. He was quick to spot the hint of defensiveness in your tone and his heart shaped smile had a reputation of showing up only when you were in deep trouble. “Ahhhhh….my case? The bank is entitled to a lien on the adjoining cowshed - ”

You cut in with a long impatient sigh. “Kyungsoo, sweetie, can we talk about corgis for now?”

“Chubs”, you undid your messy bun at the sound of that horrendous nickname, “you’ve got a bad case of --- honestly whatever this is. You spent two hours with him. Two.”

“Squishy, I’m not three anymore. I am a woman now.” His face contorted into an expression of disgust. “Stop. Calling me. Chubs.” Interjecting every word by striking his shoulder with your feeble wrist, you noticed how ‘un-Squishy’ he’d gotten over the past one year. “And I know all there is to know...about your 174 cm tall friend who struts around like he’s no less than 185. But that’s not him...that’s Handsome Mr. Park, his partner.”

“Stalker!” Kyungsoo’s eyes grew wide in horror and he flicked your forehead very, very hard.

Swallowing your cry of pain, you pinched his ear with all your might, making him wince. “It’s called content curation. If you ever happen to meet a lovelorn village belle ….let me know, yeah? I’m willing to put up my skills to offer. For a fee, of course.”

“YAH!” He freed himself from your grasp. “Behave! You’re not three anymore, right? Tell me...how much do you know about Baekhyun?” He was curious. Slightly panic-struck, even. But you couldn’t tell why.

“I will tell you but I need to know something before that. Has he - Doh Kyungsoo I swear to God I will bury you alive if you so much as smile - has he mentioned me at all?” You felt your face flame and a part of you really did not want to know the answer to that.

Kyungsoo sucked the insides of his cheeks in and said, “He thinks you’re interesting.”

You knew 'interesting', almost always, was nothing but a euphemism for weird. Ignoring the tender ache in your chest you said, "Well, I think he looks a lot like his corgi Mongryong. Mum has invited you to dinner tomorrow. Later, Squish." You pulled him in a bear hug, picked up the two, now polished, plates and walked out of Kyungsoo's room, slowly closing the door behind you.

"Eomma, Kyungsoo will be joining us for dinner -"

"Chubs, wait!" He hurried out of his room and handed you a rather heavy C4 size envelope. "My dentist appointment has been moved to today and I had to drop these documents off at Byun Park's", after a small pause he hesitantly continued, "he won't be there."

"Who won't be there?" Kyungsoo’s mother eyed the both of you suspiciously.

You couldn’t say no to the illustrious prince of a family who fed you a whole carton of organic fruits a while ago. At least not in front of the matriarch.

"It's nothing Eomma… it's Kyungsoo's friend Byun Baekhyun. Yah! Doh Kyungsoo! Stop acting like he's my ex boyfriend."

***

Your heart raced as you stepped into the elevator of the swanky commercial building. Pushing the button for the 27th floor, you turned around to examine yourself in the mirror feeling frumpy and underdressed in your faded yellow sweater and mom-jeans. The ding of the elevator jolted your heart and your mouth went dry as you lay your eyes on the blond haired man standing in front of you. You wanted nothing more than to snake your arm around Doh Kyungsoo’s neck and put him in a tight chokehold until he begged for mercy -- at this point you weren’t very keen on letting go of the imaginary, gasping for breath, blue in the face, Doh Kyungsoo. He won’t be there??

“Hi”, you said stepping out of the elevator but what you really wanted to say was ‘I want to delete myself’.

“Airport Girl!” He jested. You didn’t feel very apologetic anymore or even underdressed for that matter since the partner of a snooty law firm thought that a long sleeved jersey with bib shorts were an acceptable choice of clothing. Nevertheless, you properly introduced yourself and did what was long overdue.

“I am sorry about the other day and -- ” You briefly waited for him to cut you off with a ‘Don’t worry about it’ or even dismiss it with loud ‘hahaha’ but instead his little eyebrow raise insisted you complete your apology. “And I shouldn’t have - -”

“Airport Girl, I notice you have a problem completing your sentences.” Resting his hands on his hips he cocked his head to the side. That vaguely familiar annoying smirk made your skin crawl.

“Byun Baekhyun-ssi, I am here to see Lee Min Hyung. I am supposed to hand over Kyungsoo’s documents to him. I hope you’re working hard on my friend’s case. He really needs that cowshed back, he’s paid the broker’s fee in full for it. I hope this was coherent enough for you.” His smirk stretched into a genuine smile as he inched closer to you. Uncomfortable as you were standing in an enclosed space and conversing with a man in bib shorts, the diminished distance from his two small strides made you squirm. You could practically smell his cologne.

“I’ll forgive you if you agree to come cycling with me. Right now.”

“Absolutely not. Can I go see Lee Min Hyung now?”

“MARK LEE!” Baekhyun bellowed. The unsparing luminous smile on his face wasn’t doing any favours to the health of your heart. Within seconds, a bespectacled young lad who looked like he hadn’t slept a wink for days came rushing to his side. So Byun Baekhyun worked his employees to the bone while he himself took hiking trips in absurd outfits.

He put an arm around the frail boy and introduced the fresh law graduate to you, “This is my main man Mark Lee from Canada.” Violently thumping Mark’s back he continued, “Madam’s here with Doh Kyungsoo’s documents. Take her inside and go over the file. Check if anything’s missing and most importantly, offer her something cold to drink.” Letting go of Mark, he said to you with a wink, “I’ll be waiting in the lobby, Airport Girl. Or you’re never losing the nickname.”

***

Mark Lee’s involuntary metamorphosis from scaredy cat to ferocious lion cub in the conference room took you by surprise. While going over Kyungsoo’s documents like a hawk focused on its prey, he dutifully put a glass of ice water in front of you just as instructed by Byun Baekhyun. It was nothing more than a courtesy call. “Doh Kyungso-ssi’s personal documents all look okay -- ID card, bank statements, transaction information, realtors invoice, property possession documents.” You lost him at ‘realtor’s invoice’. “Seems to me, the realtor tricked him - - why did he not get due diligence done before investing in property? How could he not notice that the title deed does not extend to the cowshed?” Mark Lee was furious….at you.

“He’s just a simple man with simple dreams who wanted to trade his city existence for a quiet rural homestead and grow organic cucumbers, I guess? Why don’t you give him a call and --”

Mark Lee’s paw met the desk in a loud smack, startling you. “A simple due diligence would’ve saved him the hassle - -”

You weren’t exactly sure of the reason Byun Baekhyun thought you’d need a cold drink but he was so right, everything else seemed wrong. You took a rather large gulp of water, snatched Mark Lee’s notepad from his firm grasp and scribbled Kyungsoo’s number in it. “Here’s Doh Kyungsoo’s number. Call him if you need anything further.” You rose from your chair and eyed him sympathetically. “Take care, Mark Lee and please don’t skip meals.”

***

He waited for you, just as he’d promised. He somehow managed to look just as stunning in that funny costume as he did when you saw him at the airport. “Let’s go. Half an hour with that enthu cutlet Mark Lee and I need to feel the wind in my hair. How do you manage?”

“Yah! Airport Girl. He’s my best and brightest.” Sounding like a proud parent he guided you to the parking lot. The guilt weighing your heart down compelled you to ask, “What about Yoona?”

“She’ll be joining us.” Baekhyun quipped nonchalantly, opening the door to his Audi for you.

It was at that exact moment you said a silent prayer to a certain 3rd generation male idol to strike you with lightning and put you out of your misery.

Tagging: @hirumixoxo @majesticsnow @dreamingofdreamydream @juncottonluvbot

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cgmayra · 5 years ago

Text

When your tired after a 16hr shift yesterday so you rant about Sonic and explain why aggressive writing vs. neutral writing helps with sharing ideas

Me and my online Sonic friend talking about Belle. (I’m skipping some dialogue throughout the chat, this was lazily put together lol)

WARNING: It’s long, and it’s a rant. So please note that I’m blatantly aware of how wrong my aggressive, sleep-deprived rant was and that I’m stating “DON’T PRESENT YOUR IDEAS LIKE THIS!” because this is not a healthy nor effective way of sharing ideas.

ALSO, ALL THE MENTIONS OF WHAT I BELIEVE MY FRIEND IS FEELING OR THINKING DURING MY RANT ARE ENTIRELY MY OPINON. If she tells me to delete something or change it I will without hesitation but I find it funny, as I look back, to insert what I think might be going on in her mind XD She might have been oblivious to me but I’ll get her thoughts and change anything if necessary.

It’s also how most trolls and antis and even some ‘not experienced writers’ write their ideas out, and it can be easily avoided by using Neutral Writing Methods. So this is a ‘don’t do this, but try this’ post. Enjoy my badly written, sleepy aggressive rant~<3 (Also, my friend gave me permission to share this lol)

Me: She could be for entertaining little kids. But we already have too many OCs, and they're not 'dying off' any time soon so...I smell a mini-series backup plan...and I don't like what that means for Sonic. And it is cute, sorry, my brain is off the hook right now, I'll keep things to myself cause you may not like what I'm predicting and I'm getting sad thinking about it ;-; so, want to be wrong.

(Friend mentioned “Tinker Bell” spin on name.)

That's precious, but can I get a link to the reference sheet plz? Reference sheets can tell a lot about a chara's functionality if you compare it to the 'needs' of the casts. it can help predict their role. I think she's meant to help but also entertain the kids, maybe planted with a secret. Her goal could be to come back to Mr. Tinker but Eggman abuses that and tricks her into a new robot. I got a weird theory about her but I'll just say that she's probably gonna go a bit dark. But be cute and make the audience go, "Aww, poor thing! She's a cinnamon roll" at first, wonder if they'll equip her with 'happy backstory, tragic ending' kinda thing to switch the usual 'tragic backstory happy ending' but I feel this is a tragic character meant to pull emotion out.

(Friend understands my concerns but mentions there hasn’t been a ‘Bad’ Oc for the comic)

No one sets out to create a 'bad character' especially professional writers like these guys. But what makes a character 'bad' is if you ruin or oversaturate their purposes. If she's a main character that over-shines others with too much story then the audience feels 'betrayed' because they want that screen time for the main casts to express themselves and shine through. That's just an example. When working with IPs like Sonic casts, you HAVE to remember the fanbase is expecting things Do you like my OCs? be honest lol Not from my prompts. There's a specific way to handle a OC that helps the main cast shine and reveals their characters more. AU Ocs help Canon Characters in many ways.

(Friend admits they have not seen my OCs in some of my fanfictions, they’ve only really read my prompts.)

Oh, well, some of my fanfictions have OCs, not Lavinya, she's just a mascot. My Sonic OC that retried XD Sorry, I'm misspelling a lot but I hope you don't mind, my spellcheck sucks and I've given up on it lol Oh, so you don't know Harmony, Ol'Wizzy, and Data?Or the Metal Series? Well, there are specific Ocs that my readers like and they express/compliment the canon characters to where even though they're a main character, they don't intervene with the Main Cast's goals. They actually help. Then everything I'm gonna say won't have much merit so I'll just focus on waiting to see if my predictions for Sonic IDW will come true, but I really hope they don't do what it looks like they strategically might be pulling... I hate SEGA marketing-

(The beginning of my aggressive rant, please note that I’m not thinking about my image and am writing tired and lazy. This is an example of how NOT to express your opinions in negative ways. It doesn’t influence good at all.)

Their ploys are outdated and frankly, do not work for their IPs market. They target the wrong age group, they have no idea how to organize themselves, and they don't have a leading 'elder' so to speak (just a professional among them) to make good calls. So you have young adults (not super professionals, this might be their first real company job) trying to target internet culture and failing their IPs. They're doing outdated Nintendo tactics that only worked for NINTENDO! Also some other companies that have DIED so why are you copying their marketing strats!? stop! lol

Friend: Did you study marketing because this entire convo kinda flew over my head in terms of understanding (This should have indicated to me that my words were coming off too factual and had too many ‘jargons’ going on. I was losing my ‘reader’ through my rant, but my tired brain would not cease!)

Sonic's trying to morph into something he's not and they're following outdated college course books and it's not gonna help... they're leading Sonic further down and the creators in japan have no power cause all the power is in the stock holders who are stupid money-hungry americans who have lost faith in American SEGA leading SEGA of Japan to move on to other things

Friend: mostly just got you don’t like the marketing (Huge red flag! This means my friend is starting to tune my info out, it’s because I’m presenting my ideas in a slightly aggressive writing style. There are trigger words here that lead an reader to start doubting you. This is why, in most of my answer posts, I make sure to write Neutral writing methods, but I’ll mention that more after my rant lol XP)

It's just bad. Lol I have a Frankenstein degree, (Now I’m justifying myself, which was caused by my aggressive approach. If I simply stated this in a more ‘neutral writing method’ then I wouldn’t have to worry about creditability claims because I’m not trying to sell my idea as the high authority on it.) which means I have knowledge on many different fields. I never took a fully -dedicated- 'marketing class' I took a lot of different communication classes that went to my overall major. One was directly about how you present, sell, and look at marketing tactics. So I have my fingers in many different fields, my major was "Creative Writing for Fiction and Film with an Emphasis in Video Production and a Cluster in Theatre Arts." So I can be on camera, off camera, post and pre production, creative table and actual filming. Does that make sense? (I’m not fully awake to realize what I’m writing, but it’s clear at this point I’m starting to wake up and realize I’m ranting and tossing my ideals of how to present ideas out the window, but let’s watch my follies and learn from them, shall we?) I have theories on what SEGA is going to do, and I have my worries because it's all outdated. It worked for older companies but those companies also targeted a varying audience, which SEGA refuses to see themselves as for a 'teenage audience' which is exactly why they boomed in the 90s. Their target audience is now 20s.

Friend: There are Kids who also like Sonic, even if they don’t play the games though. (Due to my aggressive tactics from not thinking clearly about, not just the what, but the HOW I’m writing, it has turned my friend into a ‘contrasting neutrality’ which is amazing by the way that she did this! She noticed my writing was turning aggressively ranting, and being my friend, didn’t want to be rude about what she was noticing. -I’m guessing lol- so instead, she took the commentary approach, which is to state the good as well. This is a terrible position to put your reader into, and you should make sure to always have good examples and good praise mixed in to contrast any opposing or aggressive statements you ever make. -though you should avoid aggressive writing at all times- Sadly, this does put the reader, in this case my friend, in a very vulnerable position. It leaves them open for attack... but thankfully, she’s a wonderful friend and had trust that I wouldn’t hurt her on her counter-follow-up.)

So instead of using their 40 to 50 year old charts, start with looking at early millennial trends and desires. They tried for 'angst' to 'adultify' Sonic but it busted because we are STICKLERS for animation. Because their story was so scrapped together and had no actual character depth, motivation, or even emotional growth to develop for future game lore, they went for the 'easy made game' (Easy baked oven quote lol that’s just mean XD) We loved the trailer, it was well made, but they threw their animators elsewhere and made the programmers (WHO BLANATLY ADMIT THEY DONT KNOW HOW TO DO STORY/GRAPHICS) and made them do things they aren't trained in. Those micro-head movements and mouths took them A LONG TIME to figure out.

(My friend is now agreeing with me several times through my rant. This is a tactic that is used as ‘avoidance’ but also for ‘appeasement’. She’s probably tuned out by now, but respects what I’m saying but is also incredulous at it as well. It’s fair, I’ve cornered her into my sleepy-time rant, and being the lovable woman that she is, she is simply waiting for me to realize my follies lolol I wish she would have told me but I think she knew I was beyond ‘logical reasoning’ at this point and was just letting me get it all out lolol What a good friend TDT)

Animation can't be learned that fast AND expect them to program a game AT THE SAME TIME. Sonic Forces was a 'split up SEGA' trying to get those who survived and said, "Yeah, I'll stay in this job." to do things that THEY AREN'T EVEN TRAINED IN. you put a game programmer on animation and some other stuff they didn't know what to do with and expect it be a top-notch seller.

Friend: (in more attempts to join in and be a ‘participant’ of the conversation I’m clearly dominating -MY ABSOLUTE BAD- she tried to engage normal conversation flow into the discussion again. At this point, she probably did notice I wasn’t my usual self, and just decided to play along and enjoy the ride lolol I’m just guessing this tho, but it’s a good chance to reflect on what ‘wrongs’ I was doing and what ‘rights’ she was doing during this situation ;)b) My big issue with SEGA is that they rush everything. A lot of things would’ve been better if they had the proper time.

That was resolved actually.

Friend: Oh? It was? (Although this looks like an encouragement, it’s actually just another avoidance tactic to help me ‘get the venting out’ but it’s clear she’s not fully onboard anymore. When you write to discuss, you have to leave room for other’s opinions to shine through as well. Healthy conversation doesn’t mean forcing the other person to comply to you. A lot of this is educated guess based on past research, she knows this, and it’s clear she’s got her own research. Please remember to never shoot someone down when they try to engage you in your conversations. But again, this is the ‘don’t do this’ and me upset at my tired self for not waking up fast enough to contemplate how I was coming across in my wordings. Let’s continue to investigate and dissect the train wreck, shall we?)

That was an issue a few years ago but SEGA is taking their time, it's just that they can't organize themselves and hire the right professionals. They have old tactics, they have rookies that aren't 'Fresh Blood with professionalism' like they need. They don't need an old fart who knows his stuff, they need a new guy who is dedicated and passionate about their company who will remain there, learn them in and out, and knows his stuff SPECIFICALLY for the things SEGA needs. You have to grow that. You have to hire a very talented and young spunky and fresh professional, have him work with you for 10-15 years, and start training others. But SEGA is already recognized as a 'established' company.

(Friend is still agreeing with me, but is aware of my way of presenting it isn’t “As nice as I usually present it” so she starts mentioning the symptoms of Japanese Work Culture. A wonderful, insightful point to mention! But let’s see how I butcher this as well...)

It's not Japan though! (Again, shutting her down. Tsk tsk, sleepy me. Wake up, you lazy bum.) They won't let Japan interfere! They're all really rude to japan actually. The guys in charge, anyway. We all respect the officials, but SEGA of America people just want results. They are just funders, they don't actually work the company.

Friend: So you blame them for everything? (She’s trying to help me see that my writing is coming off as ‘hate’ which is because of my aggressive writing follies I’m doing so bluntly. Let’s please all admire my friend’s patience as she lets me rant and kindly waits for me to realize how bad I’m handling my 16 hr shift from yesterday lolol)

Look, business is really unfair, and I get that, but if I have to rant (I’m starting to wake up more, oh goodie.) I'd say they really need to humble themselves and ask Japan to please take ownership again. They kicked out people due to a money crisis but they need a game that will be 'safe to secure money but get enough excited momentum to help us push on and continue.' which isn't Japan's strategy usually. Japan likes risks, they also like money too. They trust America too much (especially in the beginning) because America is a HUGE consumer. For the world in fact. But I think they sacrificed too much for the company (common in Japan) and trusted America too much in making decisions. The officials are too nice to say that America screwed them over because America wanted full control. Well guess what? They have too much control now and their product is sinking..

Friend: You’ve got a lot of fire about this topic. (After I completely disregarded reading her follows-ups and continued to rant, my unconditionally kind friend finally threw in the towel, realizing I was no where near my usually ‘present’ self and was probably just flopped back in her chair smiling at my idiocy of not understanding her kind and subtly hints.) Go ahead and rant it out. (BOOM! Obvious right!? I should have corrected myself but at this point, I was writing like wild fire with droopy, waking up eyes and didn’t even read it during my long paragraphs...)

Sonic won't ever fade away due to it's fans, but the company is struggling to figure itself out for YEARS now. I just worry what they plan to do next. But I have a theory that they are really putting the next game in Japan's hands, a lot of activity is happening in SEGA of Japan, and they're spending WAY MORE TIME on the next installment of Modern Sonic (or Classic, still unsure which one it is yet.) I really think they need a remake game to give them profit, then use that profit for their next big installment. But so far, I think they are working on a game BUT corona might have effected production so I'm sure they are working but I'm concerned if Corona helped manage 'time and quality' or is helping to ruin it...That I can't investigate yet :( I just wish for the best (I’M FINALLY WAKING UP FULLY AS I STOP AND REALIZE-) Sorry for my rant! My theory talk showed through and I don't usually like doing that so forgive me. I'm tired and that's why T-T

Friend: It’s cool we all need to rant sometimes. (My friend’s going to make it to Heaven TwT she’s so kind.)

(Then I profusely apologized a billion times cause I realize how badly this all went down. lol)

(But the terror hasn’t ended... she mentioned some youtube videos mentioning other opinions as well. -which I’m usually cautious of cause some of them can be fanon.-)

OHhhh did he mention the arcade crash??? the literal WORST event in SEGA history??? That's literally where they sank the titanic, SEGA has never recovered from selling off their stocks. (I’M BACK AT IT AGAIN. -facepalm-) Shareholders are everything now and it's the biggest loss ever. Also, the problem is that kids don't play the games, (Rereading my follies and wanting to answer but still only just waking up...) but SEGA can't figure out why they like the characters and can't seem to take the FREAKIN' TIME to learn their lore. (Overwhelming the conversation again.) My easy steps: Re-establish Sonic lore CANONLY AND CORRECTLY, Re-gather the Japanese Officials original plans and notes, guides and study art, Re-make some popular games with the most details on Animation, Fluidity of motion graphics, and with modern Technology incorporated into the game. Once that is accomplished, they will have enough money to then- Create a continuity. Only with a flowing story and relevant past lore can they start moving forward. Animation will target their audience, Story and character re-established arcs will bring nostalgia and new blood to the field of their games, and then Japan's influences will keep it authentic for the continuities so we don't have fandom mixing with canon NEARLY AS BADLY as before anymore. Ugh, it does matter their sales, but I literally bought a book on the history of SEGA, and read a really compelling history article about more then just the Console Wars... I know SEGA has survived literally the edge of extinction on multiple fronts, but someone needs to take charge of their Sonic branch, and it's... it's just too outdated. kk, sorry for the rant.

Friend: (After being multiple times ignored, even after my brief moment of clarity, is still an angel. Frustrated, maybe, but an angel.) And your steps sound really good. Also mostly just listen to his vids if you ever do. It’s ok we all need to rant. (THE WORLD DOESN’T DESERVE THIS GURL T-T)

I'm tired so my 'angry' is showing and it's not professional XD do you mind if I post my rant? lol Actually, no. (Realize how awfully I delivered my ideas, this is where I begin to see my errors and where the clarity comes into play. -we all have our off days lol- )

Friend: Go for it

I want to but it's too aggressive. I'm too lazy to rewrite it out so I'll just save that for another day XD You got a rare treat

Friend: (This is actually interesting and fascinating to her. But she realized then that I finally did see my error.) Concerned you’ll get aggressive responses back?

Honest opinion is sometimes too blunt and I need to be careful about that

Friend: I mean it’s always good to try and get most of the anger out so you seem more professional (Saint. Literally. A saint. She’s puts up with too much of my crap XD)

That, and also the war of 'But this is Cutegirlmayra? She's so sweet and constantly puts her answers in supportive, positive lights so that if SEGA were to see it, they would feel empowered to try it instead of threatened and throw it off as hate or something unprofessional.' I have an image too. I can't post something super aggressive or I'll lose trust. You're right.

Friend: I’m glad you put a lot of thought into everything you post

I apologize for it tho T-T I didn't mean to dominate with such opinions...lol I worry who I influence, you know?

Friend: Most people don’t and trust me they get into trouble cause of it. And yeah.

I don't want to create trolls or heated arguments. I want to teach people they can safely express an idea without using such awful communication. Exactly, it's professional fanism. lol Positive writing is what companies and their employees actually read. (I’m almost fully awake now lol, realizing my blunder and starting to explain why I was in the wrong. Good on me, pat on the back, admitting I was coming off as aggressive is the first step to changing and getting better lolol Also, I’m including her more, and I’m saying “You’re right.” and she’s going “And yeah.” which is a indicator that the conversation is slowly returning to an enjoyable and healthy one. ;w; happy endings lol) That's why I skip the aggressive stuff, even if it's passive, I write in a neutral setting so everyone feels safe to read, even someone who works at SEGA.

Friend: (Mentions some nintendo youtuber rant and also news as well, then says-) It was honestly very professional sounding and not rude. (MY HEART, YOU KNEW THAT WAS AN AGGRESSIVE RANT lololol So nice to me TDT)

Lol you had to have seen how slightly aggressive it was tho. (I’M CALLING YOUR BLUFF, BESTIE lol) You literally asked, "You blame America for it?" which is not always true but semi-true. They were way too prideful (Aggressive word) and haughty (Still aggressive terminology) about their success in other Japanese products that they wanted to completely change Sonic to their own wishes, pushing out Japan's creative "licenses" (I use this word loosely, and this gives a slightly aggressive feel but is also more dumbed down so it's more 'passionate' than just aggressive)

Friend: Yeah I saw it was slightly aggressive (Either is starting to realize it or at last admitting it now that I am fully aware of how I was coming across. I also used indicators to show what words were aggressive to help illustrate my point. This is showing I’m much more awake now :)b)

Gotta use those neutral tactics or no one will feel comfortable just reading your idea and instead, will constantly look for a place to intercept with aggression back, whether they agree or not, they're looking for ways to self-insert their aggression if you are also aggressive. I can't write something that doesn't somewhat support and uplift SEGA of America. Why? Because like I said, they literally have survived EVERYTHING and have stuck around. Without them, there wouldn't be an American branch and the money issue would have ended SEGA. Some might say, "But they've done so much harm than good! Why is the money thing such a thing to be praised for?" But it's huge, it's so big, it kinda does offset the wrongs. (Now I’m doing the healthy thing, doubling back and mentioning the good to try and recover. The damage may be done, but she did recommend some videos for me and was polite, so I’m just trying to smooth things over and leave on a ‘wrapped up’ conclusion. But... I should have just left it there in all honesty xD Some things you can’t double-back and correct lol) America is a great business-influenced mindset. None of us would be fans of Sonic without them.

(Friend continues to agree but realizes I may slip into ranting again. She just asks if I can watch the videos.)

America does have it's advantages in some fields and areas, but their biggest most redeeming quality is that they saved SEGA which gave us our biggest love and obsession: Sonic. Now, my usage in that writing was still off neutral, but combined with the slightly aggressive statements, made a GREAT contrast. It's still slightly praising

Friend: And they stopped Japan from giving him a human girlfriend right away.

Me: Exactly.

Friend: I will always thank them for that. (She’s still a sweetheart, working herself into the conversation so it stays healthy. lol Such amazing follow-ups too!)

So although I don't like what's happening, I'm also grateful... to a degree lol We need SEGA of America, which is why I think Japan just ignores them now lolol they know they owe them a lot.

(Friend mentions videos and as I go to save them to my ‘watch later’ sees that one of them is about Nintendo.)

Yeeeahhh I've noticed that Nintendo is starting to trail into 'cash grab' tactics and that's sickening (MORE AGGRESSIVE WORDING??? HAVE YOU NOT LEARNED YOUR LESSON CHILD?! It takes time to fully wake up lolol) cause before, I literally thought, "Nintendo can do no wrong" their marketing was ON POINT! but the stuff they said about Peach and now... I think new, unprofessional blood (like SEGA) has entered Nintendo and the older guys are either 'training' or 'retired to other ventures'. Nintendo is having it's own 'we used to not be prideful but now we're getting a little too pompous (Another aggressive wording... This can easily trigger people to comment with further aggression either against you or for you, but no aggression is the ideal. Which is continuing to show my lack of remaining conscious lol) about ourselves' and they're starting to act like Disney before their big crash. Disney also had 'limited time offers' with their VHS movies. Now, Nintendo is doing that. They'll make money, but at what cost? When you lose your costumer's trust...

Friend: And yeah the 35th Mario thing immediately reminded me of the Disney vault

Me: Yep. I'm worried for Nintendo. Don't get me wrong! Disney is really good with money grabs, but they... they also act high and mighty (More aggressive statements, wake up, darn it!!!) and their fanbase literally calls them 'an empire' so the fan-trust is gone. That makes you 'lame/outdated' and fans begin to look for 'what's cool?' instead.

(Friend is now re-realizing I’m ‘in and out’ so is trying to use a effective avoidance tactic by asking about different things to help my ranting fully stop.)

Sorry, I'm tired, I get on these rants and I don't mean too. (Trying to shake myself awake again.) I'm sorry.

So we returned to a healthy conversation, but I hope this interesting insight has revealed how to and what not to do about Aggressive Writing. Always stick to Neutral writing if you can, putting in a compelling counter-argument. In this aggressive writing demo, you saw that I tried to cover up my follies by saying counter-praise, but praise writing can be just as bad as aggressive writing. Passive writing can sometimes be annoying (aggressive word choice) too if you come off as disinterested or uncaring, which can still result in negative comments coming at you, or someone overly praising in their writings.

This has been all I’m showing you cause it’s kinda embarrassing ^^; but I hope it helps you in what ‘not to do’ while writing your ideas out :)b

Learn from my sleepy-time mistakes! lol

#cutegirlmayra #aggressive writing #what not to do #sonic #nintendo #marketing #sega #commentary #rant writing #an example to help teach #sonic the hedgehog #sonic idw #sonic comic #sonic rant

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tothedarkdarkseas · 5 years ago

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D'you feel like Gorillaz has become more gentrified? Like, they've really reversed a lot of the character design from Phase 1 imo. I can sort of see where "soft boy Stu" is coming from; looking at Humility versus Tomorrow Comes Today, there has been a huge departure of character. Same with Noodle (who is showing more cleavage than any other phase) and Murdoc (who seems to take himself MUCH less seriously). What do you think?

Hi anon! This has been tough for me to answer because there’s such a tension in the fandom right now, and as ever, I’m sort of the most useless type of person who falls a bit in the middle. I’m just doing a bit of stream of consciousness here, so I’m sorry if it’s ever unclear!

To start, I want to clarify that I do understand what you mean by “gentrification” in a more colloquial media setting like this, and I don’t want to seem pedantic, or like I’m picking on you or disagreeing-- but for me, “gentrified” is not really the word I would use to describe Gorillaz. Again, that isn’t me try to point to the dictionary and contest the meaning on paper, words evolve with us as our usage of them evolves, and in this context I’d infer it as meaning the project is being made more profitable for white and upper-class voices at the chief cost of devaluing marginalized people. Now, I know we’re talking about the characters here, but... Gorillaz is always a bit weird to talk about because it’s such a multi-faceted project, and I do have some regretful feelings that the work of hundreds of people often goes dismissed in the full scale of the “is Gorillaz bad actually” conversation. I do apologize if it seems like I’m willfully misconstruing the question to push the subject, I promise that isn’t my intent and I’ll get back on topic-- it’s just something I’d like to express some appreciation over while we’re discussing the good and bad of the project. There aren’t many bands in existence, and none on their level of mainstream fame in the English-language market, who bring this many POC artists to the forefront, heavily featuring not just superstar crossover collaborators but smaller indie or unknown artists performing on a larger stage without being asked to compromise the culture in their music. The fact that Song Machine has three non-English languages featured on different tracks, including Xhosa, is pretty cool and not something you often stumble across. That doesn’t mean the band, real or fictional, is perfect by any stretch-- but I’ve never gotten the sense that the collaborators are being used by Gorillaz or asked to follow only what they’re told, but that the band backs the collaborators in making the music they bring to them.

I recognize that’s not entirely on topic for this question, but it’s sort of aimed at the broader conversations happening right now I guess. Like, we’ve all been seeing a lot of strong feelings about the band by now, haven’t we? So er, y’know, hot on the heels of this album, I just wanted to ramble about my opinion on the band’s side of it, and whether Gorillaz as a band has lost what makes them special. As far as the music goes, no, I don’t personally feel that way, so I’m still pretty jazzed on this album.

As for whether the characters have been moving in reverse or stagnating-- I’d have to agree, yes, I look at soft boy Stu and it feels pandering. That isn’t necessarily to discount that anything of value has come from Gorillaz since then, they’re just... rather inconsistent. Truthfully, it’s difficult to speak to because I do have to take into account that my vision of the characters isn’t really entirely in-line with canon, even the older canon, but is much less so with the newer stuff. I can’t say there aren’t moments that have frustrated me, between art or interviews-- and it’s the things I know earn me ire to express because it is a selfish want, it’s the cute stuff people like that I often don’t, and so I have to step back and assess what is an objectively (or as close to objective as we’ll get) disagreeable direction, and what simply doesn’t gel with what I want the characters to be. I think it’s very often the latter, but of course there’s part of me-- as there is with near everyone in the fandom-- who thinks that something I really dislike is inarguably not as compelling. On the flipside, there have been bits scattered here and there that did gel with my ideas of the characters (this refers primarily to Stu and Murdoc) that seemed completely reviled and rejected when they happened. Er, so the wishy-washy thing I’m getting at is: yes, Gorillaz is surely different. In particular Stu is written and drawn quite differently, to the extent that there is a completely fractured image in the fandom of what “in character” means for him, and I’m not always happy with everything we get. I’ve had to just “distance” myself from canon-- which, to be quite honest, even though this is a popular mindset with shippers I don’t actually say it with much pride. I do have a sense of embarrassment at how it sounds for me to say it “doesn’t matter” if it’s in-character when I guess I’ve wished that I was... I don’t know, doing some kind of good and thoughtful thing for the character and his potential, rather than just writing him as an OC, which is what it increasingly looks like I’m doing. (Hell, it increasingly is what I’m doing, and I don’t love to feel that way but in the effort of honesty I do recognize it.) For Murdoc, I don’t personally mind his presentation nearly as much, though I can see how he’s leaning more cartoony by the day. While there were some missed opportunities for better Debunked sessions, better interviews, or better videos, I haven’t been totally wrong-footed by him either. At worst, the jokes we’ve gotten from him have felt a bit toothless, and at best I’ve also felt like there were some winners in there. I’d be glad to simply ignore the “plot” around the portals, but even when engaging with it, I can see the idea behind having Murdoc aimlessly chase them-- maybe for profit, maybe for control, maybe just because they exist around him and it is his core driving need to take and to have. That isn’t to say it’s handled as well as it could be, but I sort of just... look past it to be frank with you, haha. It hasn’t been spoiling me on Murdoc, I suppose. That’s just my own feeling, though.

I’m staying optimistic that the almanac will have some funny Murdoc bits, but I’m more nervous about Stu’s parts of it. I have hopes and fingers crossed, but I also have a lot of fear based on the direction Stu’s gone in for a while now. Yes, it does bum me out quite a lot, I admit. Hope springs eternal, though, and I do still perhaps foolishly believe that Jamie and the writers have a bit more love for mumbling, zombie-faced, “a bit thick” laddish Stu than they do for the soft boy and they might make some efforts to give us something. Touch wood.

If I’m being honest though, despite taking issue with a lot of choices I haven’t lost my love of Gorillaz as a project partly because I sort of think we’ve had rose-tinted glasses toward previous phases, and there is some extent of editorializing that goes on about the band’s history. I think Gorillaz’s plot writing now is pretty bad, but I also think Gorillaz’s plot writing has always been pretty bad. I think it rides on the characters like it has always ridden on the characters, and it is uneven in that respect because it has always been uneven. I think these statements-- that it is worse now, and that it is not actually a steep decline-- both feel true for me, but I can’t say how true they feel for you! And that’s alright! Just my two cents. It’d be a lie to say I’m thrilled with everything over the past two years or so, but it’d also only be hurting myself to lean into the frustration and force myself to become more upset if I have the ability to compartmentalize and make my peace.

#long post #this isn't meant to step on toes! i just have some compacted feelings... which i shove down because i still enjoy a good joke #thank you for the question anon! i hope you know that i was not aiming to disagree or put words in your mouth!#Anonymous #i keep trying to insert a read more and it just isn't working so i'm v sorry about that

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 6 years ago

Text

Half Of You: Jimin One Shot

Request: fluff: Friend group travelling (wherever inspires you most! I'm thinking someplace like Hawai where they visit secret beaches and stuff! Site-seeing in the city could also be interesting!). Jimin and and OC know eachother through friends. OC is independent and not TOO into the whole adventuring deal but does it to enjoy some quality time with her friends. Jimin is flirty and playful and makes the trip all the more interesting for her. (I don't know how you want to set it up but maybe two friends are dating and they invite their two seperate friend groups on this trip to meet. Or maybe it's a wedding and OC is a bridesmaid? Anything works honestly!) - @silviasgotyourback

Description: You’re not too keen on...you know...risk-taking. In fact, it scares you to your core. But when your close friend Kim Namjoon gets in your head, you agree to a crazy trip to Fiji with him and his pals. But what happens when one of those pals -- specifically Park Jimin -- sweeps you off your feet not only figuratively, but literally?

Word Count: 15.8k

Pairing: Jimin x (gender neutral) Reader

Tags: Office Worker!Reader, Choreographer!Jungkook, Producer!Namjoon, Non-Idol!Au, Kinda Enemies to Lovers?? Haha idk

Genre: Fluff and angst, fluffy ending

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol

A/N: Wow what a long break I’ve taken haha! But I’m back (kinda) to post some one shots (slowly)! I’ve been working really hard on my graduate school writing sample and auto statements, and I’ve just started my senior year of college AND started a new job so I’ve been incredibly busy! I apologize nonetheless for my absence. It’s felt horrible being away. Very guilty lol. Anyway, thank you my dear for requesting and for being so so so SO patient with me. I hope you like the result!

Also, if you want to follow me on Twitter please do so! My handle is @/nirvana_namu. I would post a link, but rumor has it Tumblr killed links and I’m not taking any chances.

- Mercury

You’re not sure why you agreed to this.

Standing at the tippy top of a mountain, looking out over the entire surf as it roils in the golden island sun, you watch your best friend get strapped into a harness with a laugh that echoes through the humid air. His gaze is focused downward, along the slope of treetops leading to the water. A zipline. A really steep, really fast one. One of the longest in the world! Namjoon had proclaimed with no small measure of wonder in his round eyes before you’d boarded the plane side by side only a day prior. If you weren’t so scared, you’d want to paint it.

You really don’t know why you agreed to do any of this.

The vested employee adjusts the straps secured around Namjoon’s hips, tugs them once or twice — not nearly enough by your standards — and mumbles something unintelligible into the receiver of a walkie-talkie. Enveloped in greenery, Namjoon pauses to turn and look at you and, upon snagging your eyes, offers a big, stupid, dimpled grin. He waves one hand over his head at you as you wait to be loaded into the next harness. And it looks like his eyes are squinted against the sun, but really they’re squinted from the sheer force of his joy. A joy too big to be contained in a smile alone.

That’s exactly why, you think to yourself with a grimace as you shamble forward along the worn footpath, second-to-last in line, arms crossed over your torso as if they can protect you from whatever fresh hell Namjoon’s planned out.

The employee pats Namjoon’s bare shoulder before releasing him and sending him speeding down the swaying cable with a scream so loud it pierces your ears. His body falls out of sight for a frozen millisecond before the cable gives a mighty bounce and his head reappears, bobbing up and down as he slides toward the bottom. You wince, more out of fear than discomfort, and pause to peek over the edge of the loading platform, following the line of the cable all the way to the bottom. Your heart races as your eyes trace the dense tree line, seemingly endless, and the sheer drop that had claimed Namjoon just seconds before.

And that’s when, as you sweep your twitching gaze out behind you, you lock eyes with Park Jimin. Standing behind you, the very last of the group to depart down the cliffside, his lips are quirked into a smirk that reads cocky and his brows are raised, unyielding eyes stuck on you like tree sap. Of all people to be stuck with on the top of a mountain…

Your face goes hot and your spine stiffens by a few degrees. You stare back at him, trying to discern any measure of fear in his smiling expression, his half-exposed teeth, his rosy cheeks, his teasing brown eyes. But instead all you see is, as usual, a perfect facade of composure.

Well, that and a sinfully handsome face.

He saunters up beside you, scans you from head to toe, and hums a little. “Nervous?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

You clear your throat, fan yourself with your hand as a futile defense against the jungle heat, and nod your head once. “Mm.”

Upon hearing your response, Jimin’s demeanor shifts a little. He uncrosses his arms and his smirk slips, brows raising. He leans closer to examine your face and you avert your gaze, heart hammering. “Whoa, you’re actually spooked, huh,” he remarks before glancing around the platform. “Shit, I don’t think the guide’s gonna let you turn back now.”

You’d expected him to make fun of you, perhaps laugh at your weak constitution. But this…

This is new.

Though well-meaning, Jimin’s words serve only to set your palms sweating and your heart racing faster. Your throat feels a little funny, tight like asthma. You shift your weight from foot to foot. “I-It’s fine,” you mumble, sliding past him as the employee beckons you forward with a lazy wave. “I’ll just…do it.”

Jimin hangs close behind you as the employee begins strapping you in, not sparing even a single word for you. “Hey, uh, my friend’s a little nervous,” Jimin says lowly to the young man working on hooking the harness around your hip. He glances up to meet your eyes before looking toward Jimin. “Any way you can, like, go gentle or something?” Jimin offers a convincing smile, the kind of grin that could get anyone to do anything.

The employee surprises you by releasing a puffy laugh and straightening to his full height, pausing to pat the dust off the backs of his legs. He chuckles and pats your back. “I can’t control the cable,” he says, then pauses for a moment to think. “But…,” he continues as Jimin turns pleading eyes his way, “if you’re feeling really nervous, I’ve heard it helps to shut your eyes and count to ten. Like, tell yourself you’re definitely gonna do it once you reach ten and just…go.”

You swallow hard and inhale sharply through your nose. “Alright,” you say, but his words have fled from your brain as soon as they’d been uttered. Your voice is shaky. Almost as shaky as your hands as you raise them to grip the straps of your harness.

Have you always had such a strong grip?

Your brain goes a little fuzzy, looking out over the precipice on which you stand, unsteady feet and rushing pulse. It’s dizzying. Like the world is spinning, but you’re not spinning with it. Or perhaps you’re spinning and it’s the world that’s gone still. Either way, the stretch of trees extending far beyond the tips of your hiking boots looks like it’s swaying on an axis, and each blink tilts the view some different way. You wonder if you’re breathing enough, or maybe too much, because your head is spinning. Like when you stand up too quickly after sitting for a while. You wonder if you’ll pass out before you reach the bottom.

If you reach the bottom.

Jesus, you hadn’t even considered the possibility of this stupid cable snapping. It doesn’t look too stable, upon closer inspection. Bouncing in the breeze. And as the employee finishes strapping you in, you pause for a moment to move your legs about and find, to your horror, that the straps are slightly loose.

Oh God.

You’re gonna throw up.

“Hey,” says a soft voice from beside you.

You feel a warm hand slide along the skin of your upper back, resting to cup your shoulder. Slowly, you turn your toward Jimin, standing with one arm wrapped around you and the other braced on his own knee so he can level his eyes with yours. He’s smiling a little. A different one this time, a soft one. The wind blows his dark hair from his eyes and carries the scent of his cologne. Somehow, you feel yourself relax a little against his side.

“It’s gonna be okay, alright?” he asks gently, and this is an entirely new Park Jimin to you. A tender young man with kind eyes. He smiles again and gives your shoulder a squeeze. “I’m right behind you.”

And for some reason, that comforts you. You don’t have time to dissect it however, as the employee takes up your other side and raises his brows, asking silently if you’re ready to go. Of course, you aren’t. How can you be? But again, Jimin squeezes your shoulder and seizes your attention with another smile, this one turning his eyes to crescents as he nods his head.

“Um…yeah,” you say, taking a moment to focus on your breath.

“Remember,” says Jimin as he steps away from you. “Count to ten, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, shutting your eyes.

One.

You’re gonna do it.

Two.

On ten, you’re just gonna go.

Three.

It’ll be fine.

Four.

Joon did it, and he’s fine.

Five.

And Tae before him, and that guy Jimin brought.

Six.

Nobody’s died yet.

Seven.

You can do it too.

Eight.

And even if I’m scared, at least you’re not alone up here.

Nine.

Jimin’s right behind you.

Ten.

Your scream rips through the valley below.

And, seconds later, so does your unfettered laughter.

You met Park Jimin on the worst day of your life a month ago. Freshly laid off from your job as a financial analyst — a job which Namjoon disliked from the start —, and disappointed by a string of bad dates after a catastrophic breakup, you’d agreed to meet up with a few college friends for a drink at your local stomping ground. You’d found Jimin sitting in the middle of a smoky bar with a girl on one arm and a guy on the other. Gross, was all you’d thought in passing. You’d paid him little mind, too busy wallowing in your own self pity to think too hard about any one thing, but it seemed he was incessant on grabbing your attention by any means necessary.

You’d sidled up to the bar, awaiting Namjoon’s I’m here text, and had only just ordered your drink when the strange young man with the unusually bright smile took up the space beside you. Now alone, he offered you a grin and his hand for you to shake. For a few seconds, you only stared at his outstretched palm. At the lines cutting across it. What was that long line called? The life line?

Eventually, however, you realized he wasn’t going anywhere, planted firmly in the wobbly barstool to your right, and you relented with a handshake. But that wasn’t what this stranger was after. He yanked you just a little once your hands connected.

“Hey, honey!” he said as he pulled you in toward his chest, sweeping you up in a tight, firm hug that knocked the wind from your lungs.

You were neither playful enough nor drunk enough to reciprocate and instead sat there stiffly, arms pressed against your sides as the stranger with the cute face hugged you close. Over his shoulder, you locked eyes with the girl who’d previously ornamented his left arm, watching you keenly, and it didn’t take you long to understand what was going on.

“Dodging an ex?” you whispered without moving your lips too much.

You felt a wave of shivers trace up your spine and it only took you a few seconds to realize why. It was just the sort of thing you imagined Hanseul doing if he ever bumped into you…

He chuckled. “Two, actually,” he responded as the young man he’d been entertaining also lifted his eyes from his drink to give you a once-over.

You sighed. “You’d better be buying my drink,” was all you said as the two of you broke away.

He’d laughed — that melodic sort of laugh that made you feel a little floaty — and rubbed your shoulder with a grin. “I’ll buy you twenty,” he joked, sliding the bartender a bill as he returned with your cocktail.

“So how’d you manage to get caught up with two exes at once?” you asked, nursing your glass.

He rubbed his jaw and shook his head, smiling at the bar table before him. “They were friends to begin with,” he said. And when you said nothing, only recoiled slightly, he met your eyes with a bright laugh. “C’mon don’t give me that look!”

You cleared your throat, turned away, and worked your straw between your teeth. “I dunno, sounds like maybe you brought it on yourself then,” you said, taking a healthy sip.

The stranger laughed again — more like a disbelieving scoff — and adjusted one of the several rings on his slender fingers. “Well I didn’t ask the two of them to come out tonight,” he said with a shrug. “And besides, neither of them looked unhappy to see me.”

“Ugh,” you mumbled, eyeing him sidelong as he chuckled.

He smirked and leaned across the bar toward you. “What?” he asked, and something about the heavy-lidded look he gave you, the simmering something in his eyes, made your pulse quicken. He rested his cheek in his hand and cocked his head to the side, now close enough to smell a whiff of his cologne. “You think I’m a bad guy?”

You swallowed hard before downing the rest of your drink and slamming the glass back on the bar. You waved the bartender over and pointed to the empty glass. Wordlessly, he began fixing you a replacement. You peeked back at the guy to find him smiling at you, musing perhaps, with the strangest mix of curiosity and pity in his expression.

You were definitely going to need another drink.

“Do good guys usually do stuff like that?” you asked, watching the bartender as he shook your drink around his metal tumbler.

He chuckled. “Can goodness be quantified by things like who we date?” he asked.

You stiffened. “Not by who you date,” you continued, shaking your head as memories of your own ex resurfaced. “But who you hurt, sure.”

He rolled his eyes, swiveling in his barstool to look at you head on. “Why’s it my fault who gets hurt?” he asked.

You cocked a brow. “You…can’t be serious…” But from the expression he wore you were certain that he was indeed quite serious.

He shrugged. “It’s not my intention to hurt someone, so why do I have to take responsibility if they get hurt?” he asked, then smirked and gave your thigh a nudge with his knee. “The way I see it, if you get hurt you’re the one whose expectations were too high.”

“That’s gross,” you said, inching away. You were inclined to simply leave, abandon this conversation and the bar at large and call it a night. But the bartender wasn’t finished with your drink and you weren’t about to piss him off. Not on a day like today. “If you’re dating someone, you’re committing to them.”

“What about polyamorous people?” he countered with a smug grin.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not talking about polyamorous people. I’m talking about monogamy.”

“But why does everyone expect monogamy?” asked Jimin, tossing his hands up in the air with a breathy laugh. “Anyway, I always make it clear from the start that I’m not the kind of person who wants to be…well, you know…,” he started, then furrowed his brow and waved his hand. “Like, in a relationship.”

You sighed, nodded your thanks to the bartender as he slid you your drink, and watched as Jimin again offered cash in return. “And that’s fine, but you can’t expect someone to stick around and be okay with that.” You rubbed your temples as memories swirled together. “Be okay with half of you.”

If you really loved me, you’d understand that I could have any person in the world and you’d still be my number one!

Scumbag.

This gave him pause and, slowly, he shifted his eyes your way once more, scanning you. “Half of me?”

You nodded and downed a gulp of your drink with a wince. “Giving half is fine if the other person is giving half too. If you both only expect half,” you began, then ran your hands along your neck. Your skin was feverish, alcohol making your head light. “But if one person wants more, it’s not fair to string them along.”

He stared at you gravely, eyes hard and jaw set, and furrowed his brow. “That’s too old-school,” he said.

You huffed and crossed your arms. “It’s not old-school!” you said, wagging a finger at him. “It’s about respecting the other person enough to let them go when you realize you can’t be what they need.”

He pouted a little and rolled his eyes. “You sound ancient,” he said, then paused to give you a knowing smirk. “Wait, don’t tell me,” he began, scooting closer with a conspiratorial look. “You were scorned by your ex. Like…I dunno, like they cheated or something. Broke your heart, ruined your trust, blah, blah, blah. And now you’ve got this vendetta or something because you got hurt.” He grinned and wiggled his brows.

You stiffened, eyes wide, and stared at him. “I…,” you began.

He laughed from his gut and nodded. “Ah, nailed it, didn’t I?” he asked.

There was a cruel edge to his teasing, an ill-intentioned bite that felt like it was made to injure. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but you knew you felt it in that hazy bar, surrounded by throngs of people gathered here and there, enveloped in smoke and conversation. But like a heat-seeking missile, it seemed his words were engineered to uncover the softest parts of you and destroy them.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something else, but your eyes welled with tears and your throat constricted. You stared at him, this stranger who had pegged you without err, and felt the weight of your frustrations pressing down on the tops of your shoulders like sandbags. And as he perceived the shift in your expression, his own face changed from a cold sort of scrutiny to a round-eyed concern that washed away all evidence of his previous behavior.

“Oh shit,” he said, standing up and blocking your face from view. You felt a few hot tears spilling over and were quick to wipe them, but the humiliation was there on display whether you cried or not.

He’d gotten you.

Luckily for you, Namjoon’s timing had been particularly impeccable that day and he’d barreled into the bar with a lopsided grin and clapped both you and the stranger on the backs, Taehyung and Yoongi sauntering behind him. You’d startled a bit, jumping slightly at his approach, but once again luckily — or perhaps unluckily — Namjoon seemed to have little regard for the poor mood he’d stepped into and didn’t seem to notice your glassy eyes as you buried your nose in your drink.

“Well jeez, look at you two already getting acquainted!” Namjoon exclaimed with a big laugh.

You paused your sipping for a moment to slide only your eyes up toward your friend. “Huh?”

He blinked down at you, one hand still clamped onto the stranger’s shoulder, and raised his brows. “Didn’t I tell you I was inviting some work friends?”

You spat your drink, sending droplets of sweet alcohol splattering across the bar. Quick to right yourself, you faced Namjoon properly and, sputtering, replied, “Him?”

Namjoon laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you guys didn’t introduce yourselves,” he said, adding theatrics to his heavy sigh. “This is Park Jimin. That choreographer I’ve been telling you about? He’s coming with us to Fiji.”

Still coughing up the remains of your rum and Coke, you pat your chest. This was the kind-hearted dance major wunderkind who dazzled everyone at Namjoon’s entertainment company? This was the kid who, at the age of twenty-four, had more accolades than both his predecessors combined? This was the guy who befriended all the trainees and brought them sports drinks during long days of practice?

This was the guy you were going to spend two weeks with on an island in the middle of the Pacific?

Namjoon, standing between the two of you, moved to taste your drink and as he leaned forward you locked eyes with the acclaimed young choreographer over the plane of his back. Park Jimin stared at you with wide eyes and lips parted as if to speak. But even after Namjoon had straightened up and begun complaining about your drink order, Park Jimin, still with mouth agape, said nothing.

And so, as you go ripping through the jungle on a wobbling cable, screaming and laughing and crying just a little, you wonder how exactly that very same Park Jimin is the one who comforted you into taking this leap of faith. Below your dangling feet is a patchwork of different greens, all bleeding into a motion blur as your body is propelled down toward the bottom platform. As you slide along, you can just see Namjoon’s figure, reduced to a small silhouette amongst the trees, as he stands waving like mad at the edge of the platform. Laughing, you shoot both hands above your head and wave them around, causing you to sway on the cable. Startled, you quickly return your hands to gripping the straps near your chest.

You feel like a bullet whizzing through humid air and then, all at once, friction takes hold once more and you seize, eyes squeezing shut from the whiplash, head throbbing just a little, suspended over the platform. You are greeted by a chorus of applause and hollers of encouragement as the employee begins the process of disconnecting you from your harness and, as your feet land stiffly on the concrete slab, you lift wild eyes to meet Namjoon’s. You find him still with that grin plastered across his face, hair windswept, shirt askew.

“Wow!” is all you can say as the group laughs.

Namjoon smiles and claps your shoulder. “Right?” he asks and you can only nod and turn your eyes back up toward the cliff from which you’d descended.

Now far too distant to discern amongst the foliage, the loading platform sits somewhere lost in green. And, without meaning to, your mind wanders back to Park Jimin and you wonder idly if he’s counting to ten.

Sunset drenches the island as you lounge on the warm sand, leaning back on your elbows with eyes half-shut as you gaze out at the glittering ocean touching the horizon line. The sky is darkening by degrees, with vibrant reds and oranges spreading like watercolor into the navy blue edges. And for a blissful moment, you’re alone with it. Alone with the profound. And you’re not thinking about the new job you’d taken, or the text messages Hanseul left you this morning, or the bills you know you’ve got to pay soon. You’re not thinking about anything.

It’s beautiful.

Of course, it’d be more beautiful with a pina colada, but you don’t let your mind linger there too long. After all, Namjoon said this trip was supposed to be about adventure and ‘finding yourself’. You aren’t sure how much of yourself you can really find at the bottom of a fruity drink.

Namjoon invited you on this trip a year ago. He’d done it in typical Namjoon fashion: calling you up at two in the morning and rambling incoherently for a while before eventually getting to the point. You’d become so used to his pipe dreams that you’d half expected this plan to fall through like the others. The second the words left his lips, you’d rolled your eyes.

“What I’m saying is,” he began, breathless over the phone, as you push yourself up onto your bottom, bed sinking beneath you, “let’s go to Fiji.”

“Joon…,” you groaned. “Please, I have work tomorrow-,”

“Listen, fuck your job,” he said and you could practically see him waving his hands like a man gone mad. “This is important. Like…might be the most important thing we’ve ever done together, you know?”

“Where is this even coming from?” you asked, stifling a yawn. You glanced out your window and saw the city painted black, pinpricks of yellow office building lights.

He sighed. “I was looking up tropical music for this new song I’m working on for the trainees and I stumbled upon this incredible video about Fiji.”

“Like a generic white girl vlog?” you asked with a laugh, but Namjoon seemed deathly serious as he remained silent. You paused a moment. “Wait, you’re like…for real with this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, of course.” He was quiet. “I just…I dunno…I guess, while we’re still young enough to do it, I wanna experience something incredible. While we still can. While things are still like this.”

“What do you mean?” You raised a hand to open your window, let in some cool night air, but as you jammed your hand along the pane, the thing only rattled dumbly in response. You huffed, focused.

“I mean life is transient and nothing’s guaranteed,” he said. “Who knows who we’ll be tomorrow, you know? Who knows how long these moments will last?”

You stilled for a moment, staring out your closed window, hand still poised to force it open. You glanced over your shoulder at your tiny apartment — clothes strewn over every piece of furniture, easel gathering dust in the corner of your living room, unused for the better part of a year, paintings still unhung propped against walls on the floor — and couldn’t help but sigh. As silver moonlight filtered in through your curtains, you felt an unfamiliar tug in your chest. A longing that didn’t make sense.

You had the job, the boyfriend, the social life…

You had it all.

But why did Namjoon’s words make you feel so hollow?

And before you even realized what you were doing, you replied, “How much is it gonna cost?”

“What’re you thinking about?” asks a soft voice from beside you.

Startled, you scramble slightly, sending a spray of sand flying through the air. You sputter a little, having inhaled too quickly for your lungs to handle, and squint against the golden sun. But as you settle enough to face the person beside you, you’re surprised to see it’s Jimin. Sunset drenches the expanse of shoreline, catches in the ends of his black hair, outlines the side of his rosy cheek as he gives you an easy smile.

You raise your brows. “Hm?”

He chuckles, rubs the back of his neck, and shrugs as he digs the heels of his hands into the sand, leans back on them. “Just...looked pensive.”

“Pensive…,” you repeat, mulling it over. You purse your lips. “I guess just...thinking about this trip.”

“What about it?”

“Just...why I even bothered coming,” you begin, then chuckled and eyed him sidelong. “You saw how I was today. The whole...adventure thing isn’t really my scene.”

He smiles, revealing on closer inspection one charming crooked tooth, and tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean? You looked like you were having the time of your life!” he says, nudging you with his elbow.

You smile at your knees, now pulled toward your chest, and sigh. “Thanks for saying that, but you know I was a mess.”

He pouts a little. “You weren’t.”

Glancing his way, you find him with furrowed brows staring distantly at the ocean. “Mm…,” you mumble in response.

He sighs. “You were scared,” he begins, then shrugs. “But you did it anyway. What’s so bad about that?”

You sense that he’s perhaps talking about something else while talking about you. Like he’s saying two things at once. But you don’t bother prying. Instead, you simply sigh and join him staring at the surf.

“It’s beautiful, huh?” you remark as the two of you sit side by side. And there’s a gentle sort of quiet between you, one you never expected to share with someone like Jimin.

But somehow, here he is. And looking at him as he watches the waves splash forward and recede, you can’t help but feel a little guilty for your attitude towards him. Guilty for the dread you’d felt as you boarded the plane behind him. Guilty for the scowl you’d worn as he walked beside you on the trail up to the zipline today. Guilty for the complaints you’d aired to Namjoon about him.

“Yeah,” he says with a pleasant, lazy smile.

Birdsongs welcome you to the fresh island morning. Lazily, you roll onto your side and peel your eyes open, straining against the sunlight pouring in through your ocean-facing windows. You yawn, pushing yourself up onto your bottom to stretch sore arms above your head. You twist your torso this way and that, crack your knuckles, point your toes as you extend your legs before you. The room is filled with bright morning light, all hardwood floors and tapestries on the walls. You glance around your bedroom -- one of eight private rooms in this massive Airbnb -- and realize with a start that this is the first morning in years that you haven’t immediately grabbed for your phone to check for work emails.

You expect, perhaps, to be unnerved by this. This lack of structure, lack of organization.

But, perhaps more unsettlingly, you are…

Surprisingly calm.

You shake your head and pad on bare feet into the bathroom beside your room. As you brush your teeth, you lock sleepy eyes with your reflection and can’t help but crack a little smile. For the first time in a long time, you look like you’ve had a proper night’s sleep.

You emerge in the living room a few moments later to find Taehyung -- Namjoon’s stylist friend -- and Seokjin -- Namjoon’s actor friend -- still sleeping on the couch, the TV still droning on as they’d likely forgotten to turn it off. And, standing in the kitchen by himself nursing a cup of coffee and a calm smile, is Namjoon. He’s caught a bit of a tan, glowing in the gentle sunlight, and his eyes are warm and fond as he looks out across the living room at his friends.

As quietly as you can manage, you maneuver around the sleeping boys and take a place beside Namjoon, resting a hip against the marble counter. “Morning,” he says softly.

You nod once. “Morning,” you repeat, and hold your hand out for his mug of coffee, wiggling your eager fingers. He chuckles and relents without much fight, offering the handle to you carefully. You take a warm, welcome sip and sigh. “How’d you sleep?” you ask.

He hums a little and adjusts the sleeve of his loose tee. “So tired I didn’t even dream,” he says with a laugh.

Smiling you reply, “Me either.”

He eyes you with a knowing smile and squints a little. Like he’s teasing you. “You like it here, don’t you?” he asks.

You roll your eyes and give his shoulder a healthy shove. He laughs in response, but says nothing more as you sweep your gaze out toward the wall of windows leading down to the beach. It’s immaculate in the morning time. Not a single silhouette dots the shoreline, only fishing boats just beyond the surf. Tourists are still asleep, you reckon, and you feel a little proud to not be one of them sleeping away the most beautiful hours of the day. You can see faint traces of clouds ringing the horizon, and the pastel yellows of sunrise giving way to the azure blue sky.

“It’s...really nice,” you admit with a nod, sipping the coffee once more. And, without meaning to, you think of Jimin yesterday. His hand on your shoulder, his comforting words reminding you to ground yourself before you floated away. “Yeah…,” you add, concealing an unintended smile.

Namjoon, however, has always been the smarter one out of the two of you and, predictably, he catches this shift in your expression and turns to you head on with raised brows. “Whoa!” he remarks with a grin. He points to your face with his index finger. “Look at that!”

You swat his hand away with a laugh and roll your eyes. “Lay off, alright? I’m having a good time. Isn’t that the whole point?”

He chuckles and sighs as he rests once more beside you. Gently, he lifts a hand to softly pat the top of your head. You’re certain your shock registers plainly on your face as he pats again. “I’m proud of you,” he says.

And in the simplest of phrases, he’s managed to pluck something profound from inside of you. You don’t need to ask to know precisely what he means.

Why does it make you want to cry?

“Morning,” says a quiet voice from behind Namjoon and, leaning slightly so you can see around your friend’s broad chest, you notice Jimin standing there and can’t help but smile.

He glances between Namjoon and you for a few seconds, brows lifted as if in question, before Namjoon clears his throat and wordlessly excuses himself, snatching his coffee on his way back into the living room where he begins rallying the boys awake.

You sigh, running a finger along the countertop’s perfect edge. “What’s on the agenda for today?” asks Jimin as he settles beside you.

You pause to think. “Um…,” you begin, tapping your lips with your fingers. “I think…,” you continue, musing as you begin to work your lower lip between your index finger and thumb. “Something about ATVs.”

But before you’ve even finished your sentence, Jimin has seized your hand in his and is now standing so close you can smell the scent of his detergent wafting up from his pajama shirt. He stares down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a smirk, gaze flashing around your face before landing on your lips as he pulls both your hands down toward your shoulder. Your heart begins to race, eyes wide, skin hot where his fingers touch yours, and you swallow hard as he chuckles a few times, his breath fanning out across your warm face.

“Sorry,” he says, voice low and breathy. “It was distracting.” He then drops your hand and swivels on his heel, back toward the hallway from which he’d come. He pauses, however, to shoot you a wink over his shoulder. “Hard to focus when you do that,” he says, tapping his own plump lower lip with his fingertip before offering a wave and meandering down the hall.

And you stand there dumb, heart pounding so loud you can’t hear the crashing waves just outside the window.

You were shocked when you found out Hanseul had been messing around behind your back. Gutted, really. If it hadn’t been for Hanseul leaving his Instagram logged on to your phone, you’d probably never have found out to begin with. He’d always been that sort of guy, though.

Reckless.

And how very cliche, you’d thought as you read through months of exchanged messages, that he’d exchanged you like a used car for a newer model once he’d gotten tired of you. You dragged your finger almost lazily across the screen, brows raised as you rested on your couch, reruns of The Office blending into background noise. And where perhaps you’d expected hurt and resentment, you found only a grim acceptance.

Of course, you thought to yourself with a strange chuckle as you read the most recent message. A sappy sort of love IM that made your stomach churn. Riddled with sentimentality and grand platitudes, the messages reminded you of the ones you’d exchanged with Hanseul in the beginning. The ones that made you hopeful. Of course.

Somewhere amongst that grim acceptance, however, was something you didn’t expect. Something primal. A sort of fear that had no name.

Fear, perhaps, of the implications.

Fear of all the things that would have to change, all the comforts you’d known for years chipping away like old paint left on the wall too long.

And so, like a house of cards, your world shook and crumbled mightily down to its very foundation.

You’re slack-jawed as you stare at the row of ATVs standing equidistant before you. Eight identical machines pointed down the rolling hills behind you. An instructor standing with a grin and hands on her hips as she watches you scan the locomotives with your eyes wide and round. Beside you is Namjoon, smiling too broadly for his face to accommodate, with Seokjin and Taehyung drowsily fighting yawns. Jimin stands on your other side, arms crossed as he smirks at the ATVs like he’s done it all and seen it all before. His friend Jungkook is practically vibrating with anticipation, and Hoseok -- another choreographer from the company -- stands whispering in low tones with Yoongi, the young PD Namjoon never stops talking about.

The imposing green trees sway in the breeze around you: all potential threats as your group nears the line of ATVs. You wonder just how long you can manage on one of the things before hitting one of those tall waving trees. Anxiously, you glance over your shoulder at the hills extending as far as you can see. More possibilities for horrific injury.

As you tromp through the yielding sand underfoot, you feel someone step closer to you and you don’t need to lift your eyes from your boots to know who it is.

“You know, if you’re scared-,” Namjoon begins, but you silence him with a look, gaze severe.

He raises his hands in surrender before chuckling and patting your shoulder. He says nothing more as he swerves around you to hook his elbow around Taehyung’s neck. The two, laughing, continue toward the row of ATVs. Taking a moment to manage your breath, you press your palm against the rubber handle. You shut your eyes.

One.

You’re getting on this fucking ATV.

Two.

You’ve come this far, you can’t chicken out now.

Three.

You always chicken out.

Four.

When was the last time you did something that scared you this much?

Five.

Well...yesterday.

Six.

Before that though.

Seven.

When was the last time you took a risk?

Eight.

When was the last time you did something you wanted to do?

Nine.

Something you really wanted…

Ten.

You take a long inhale, nod once, and swing your leg over the side of the ATV. With both shaking hands gripping the handlebars, you glance to the side to see everyone else has mounted their vehicles, except for one. Jimin stands at the end of the line, talking with the guide too quietly to hear, but the way he’s waving his hands makes it seem like there’s a problem. The guide glances around, brows knit, before shrugging his shoulders and cupping a hand around the side of his mouth to shout.

“Hey guys! Looks like we’re one ATV short! Someone’s gonna have to share!” he calls, and grumbles resound around the group.

Beside you, Namjoon and Taehyung complain about having to share, both clearly not too keen on offering Jimin a spot on their ATV. You briefly feel bad for him, standing on the edge without a place to go to. You wonder if he feels left out, or if perhaps he’s considering staying back so the guide can show you the way. Without meaning to, you turn your head and lock eyes with Jimin and the instant you to you wish you hadn’t. Because now his eyes have lit up and his face is splitting in a small, hopeful smile.

And you know you’re cooked.

With a sigh, you raise your hand and wave it like mad, beckoning Jimin over. After all that, the breathing exercises and everything, after finding your courage, here you are handing over the reins.

“You can ride with me,” you say with a sigh as Jimin emerges at your side, smiling bright.

“Thank you,” he says with a laugh before hoisting himself up behind you.

“Oh!” you exclaim as Jimin rests his hands on his knees, right beside your thighs. He leans around your side and eyes you with wide brows. “I figured you’d wanna drive…,” you say, face going hot.

He blinks at you for a moment longer than normal before splitting into a grin and nudging your hip with his knee. “Well why would I do that?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “You looked really determined.”

Just like that, he understands exactly how you feel.

Startled, you turn to face him halfway, twisting your torso awkwardly as you lock eyes. He’s still smiling, still bright. The apples of his cheeks are redder than yesterday, and the bridge of his nose. A sunburn. He looks peaceful. As if he trusts you to drive this massive machine. As if it’s not even a thought that’s crossed his mind.

As if he never even considered taking this ATV from you.

“You guys ready?” shouts the guide with a hoot.

The boys around you holler their responses but you stay silent, still just staring at Jimin as he shields his face from the sun with one hand, still smiling, still peaceful.

You grip the handlebars and kick the ATV to life.

You first met Namjoon when you were in high school. He was a grade above you, so you’d never had reason to speak with him. Aside from passing him in the halls every now and again, you didn’t really interact with him at all. But things changed when he approached you after class as you finished cleaning off the blackboards. You’d stayed behind not because you wanted to, but because your classmate had pawned their classroom duties on you after a miserable game of Gin Rummy at lunch. You hadn’t protested much once the responsibility had fallen on your shoulders.

Another excuse to avoid going home.

Bony knuckles rapped against the blackboard beside your head and you jumped out of your skin, releasing a scream several octaves higher than you anticipated. But as the moment of panic passed, you realized with a start that the one who’d roused your attention was indeed upperclassman Kim Namjoon. And there he stood with a small dimpled smile and gentle eyes scanning you. You weren’t sure what he was looking for when he looked at you, but the way he tilted his head to the side made you think that perhaps he’d found it.

“Hey,” he said, face outlined by the last golden rays of autumn daylight.

You swallowed hard and took half a step back toward the podium. “Uh...hi…?”

“This yours?” he asked, dangling a sketchbook before you with one hand.

It took you several moments of squinting at the Strathmore sketchbook to realize that, in fact, it was yours. Your name was right there in the right corner where you’d scribbled it a month ago. And there was the tear in the cover from when your mother had tried to rip the thing from your hands -- unsuccessfully.

A rush of fear swelled through you and you snatched the pad from his outstretched hands like you were a prisoner and he was offering you food. Scared he’d rescind his offer if given even a moment to think it over. And as you clutched the thing to your chest, you scanned him with narrowed eyes.

“Where did you get this?” you asked. You were certain you had kept it safely in your bookbag since lunch. But glancing at the bookbag again, you found it surprisingly empty.

Namjoon raised his brows and raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, then chuckled with a shrug. “What kind of thief would return the thing they stole anyway?”

You paused for a moment, brows furrowed, before sighing and nodding. “I guess that’s true,” you admitted before gently guiding the sketchbook back into the mouth of your backpack. “Um…,” you hedged as you turned back to the guy. You held out your hand to him and he rolled up the long sleeve of his uniform cardigan to take it in his own. “Thanks,” you finished with a shake.

He shook his head. “Don’t mention it,” he said, laughing a little. “Had to ask around to find out which class you were in though.”

You felt a warm bloom of embarrassment and pulled your hand away, shoving it back into your pocket and averting your eyes. “I don’t have a job or anything,” you said.

He blinked at you. “Hm? What’re you talking about?”

You rubbed the side of your arm and shrugged. “My family’s kinda poor too. Like, we do fine, but my parents are really serious about money so…,”

“What’s your point?” asked Namjoon with wide, curious brown eyes.

You stared at him for a moment, puzzled, before continuing. “Aren’t you gonna ask for, like, reward money or something?”

He released a booming, chesty laugh before waving his arms like mad and shaking his head. “No! God, do I look like a thug to you?”

You eyed him from top to bottom and shrugged. “I don’t really know what a thug is supposed to look like.”

He sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “Forget the money,” he said, pausing to give you a warm smile. “I just wanted to meet the person who made those drawings.”

You went stiffer than a board. For a moment, time stood still. Namjoon froze before you, the gently falling leaves outside the classroom window froze, and you froze too. Like your feet were rooted to the ground.

“You...did you look through it?” you asked softly, too horrified to raise your voice above a bare whisper.

He nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I was looking for a phone number or something on the inside flap, but then I got distracted by the art.”

“You…”

“You’re really talented,” he said, offering another big smile. “Like, you could go pro if you wanted to.”

You swallowed hard, your throat constricting, and chucked the dirty blackboard eraser on the podium with a puff of fine dust. Without another word, you zipped up your backpack and slung it over your shoulders. You walked past him quickly, not even sparing him a glance, and walked faster when he followed you, calling after you and begging you to turn around.

Namjoon followed you around for a month after that: waiting outside your classroom after school, catching you off guard as you sketched in the courtyard during your lunch break, walking his bike behind you as you led the way to the bus stop, cheering for you at the sports festival and causing you to miss the volleyball coming straight for you. Every time he’d come around, you’d turn grey with horror and you wouldn’t say a word. But luckily for you, Namjoon said plenty enough for both of you. It was always, When are you gonna join the drawing club? or, You should start working on a portfolio, or, If you love art so much, why aren’t you applying to an arts college?

You didn’t bother asking how he knew where you were applying. As you’d gotten to know him, you’d begun to understand his uncanny ability to secure sensitive information from teachers. It seemed they all loved him about as much as you despised him. Not long after that comment, you finally began responding when he spoke to you. And you even began bickering like real friends.

After a while, you grew accustomed to him being around all the time. To the point that, when he graduated a year before you and went on to pursue a degree in music, you’d felt almost lonesome without him. And to the point that, when you texted him about your choice to pursue a degree in business, you were almost relieved when he caught the late bus out to your house to scold you.

One day you’re gonna snap, he’d said that night in a moment of calm. You’re gonna finally have enough of living for them. And it’s gonna hurt when it happens. Bad.

But the scolding had never been enough.

Because, in the end, that persistent fear ran like still waters through your body.

You’re realizing more and more that it’s the same fear. That it’s always been the same fear. Back then when you were so scared of losing Hanseul that you considered not even telling him you’d found the messages. In high school when you were too scared to show anyone your sketchbook. Even now, as you straddle the vibrating ATV, Jimin’s arms wrapped lazily around your middle as he giggles behind you, you’re scared to make a single sound for fear of messing up your focus on the hills before you.

If you really think about it, it’s all the same.

When you boil it down to its core, it’s always been the same.

Fear of fucking up.

Like you’ve been walking a tightrope from the start, and any small misstep will result in you plummeting, face first, into the ground below.

Your knuckles go white against your skin as you clutch the handlebars. Stiff, you follow the guide as he vaults over a hill, having no choice but to do the same. You launch your ATV over the sandy bump, sending both you and Jimin flying through the air. And even though a part of you expects to go splat in the dirt, after a few weightless seconds of flight, the two of you return to earth in one piece. This time, it isn’t Jimin’s laughter that startles you.

It’s your own.

“Holy shit!” Namjoon shouts as he runs toward you, face covered in fine dust. He grins at you like you’re his child, and as you slide off the side of the ATV, he sweeps you up in a big hug, laughing. “You did so good!”

You laugh too, patting his flexed bicep, and lean away slightly to get a better look at his dirty face. “God,” you say with a laugh, running the pad of your fingertip along his cheek, leaving behind a stripe of clean skin. “You need a shower, Joon.”

He nods and peels himself away, turning his attention to Jimin behind you. “You don’t look so good,” he remarks with raised brows.

And as you turn to see for yourself, you notice that in fact Jimin doesn’t look so good. Up until then it had been all laughter and smiles and playful squeezes, but now that he was standing in the dirt, arms crossed, leaning back against the ATV with his helmet in his hand, he looked...less than pleased. He watches you and Namjoon with narrowed eyes.

Oh God, you think in a moment of blind panic, I bet he wanted to drive the ATV after all...

But the moment Namjoon approaches and claps his hand against Jimin’s shoulder, the latter perks up and his eyes go bright once more. He turns a grin towards you and offers a big thumbs up. The sky above his waving hair is a perfect blue, and the sun is unrelenting, but somehow his smile is brighter. Carefully, you join the duo and pat the ATV with a sigh. Looking at it now, it doesn’t seem so scary at all. And after all the tips your guide had given throughout the course, you feel ready to do it all again if you get the chance.

Jimin eyes you with a fond smile. “How’d you like it?” he asks.

You hum. “It was...really exhilarating,” you say with a grin. Gently, you reach out your hand for Jimin to shake and without missing a beat he laughs and takes it.

But instead of shaking it, he gives a sharp yank and you go tumbling into his chest. Heart hammering, you struggle to regain your footing, but before you can process what’s going on, Jimin wraps both arms around your back and holds you tight. You’re sure your face reveals your chagrin, so you’re careful to keep it buried in his chest. And although it’s muffled through the fabric of his shirt, you can hear Jimin’s heart thumping quick.

“Thanks for letting me ride with you,” he says quietly against your hair.

You swallow hard, nerves making your hands sweat, and nod once. “Um...yeah, of course.” You can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes your parted lips and, hesitantly, you reach around to pat Jimin’s back with one hand. “It was fun.”

He backs up with a smile, but keeps one hand on your shoulder. “Yeah. Let’s do it again when we get home.”

You laugh again, eyes wide. “Are there ATV courses at home?”

Jimin pauses, purses his lips, and shrugs. “Let’s find out.”

Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Shoot! What time is it?” he asks, brows knitting.

You check the watch around your wrist and squint at it, but it’s hard to focus on anything with Jimin still touching you. “Um...half past two,” you say, brain foggy as Jimin steps closer.

He glances over your shoulder to stare intently at your wristwatch. Easily, he slides his hand along your shoulder blades before letting it rest at the small of your back. You can feel the ends of his hair tickling your hot cheek. He hums a little beside you and nods once, as if he is simply verifying the time. Perhaps he is simply doing that.

“Shoot!” Namjoon exclaims again. “If we don’t leave, like, now we’re gonna be late for snorkeling!”

Without meaning to, you slide your eyes toward Jimin and raise your brows only to find him staring at you with the same expression. The two of you share a knowing look before breaking into small smiles.

“Wouldn’t wanna be late for snorkeling,” Jimin says under his breath as Namjoon jogs back toward the guide, all the while frantically miming with his hands.

You grin. “God forbid.”

Hanseul said something once that really stuck with you. Not the sort of sentimental thing that you thought might’ve stuck with you, but something entirely mundane. Something trivial, something said in passing.

It was a Sunday afternoon. Neither of you had work, so you’d decided to take a nice long drive through the city. The sky was endlessly blue and beautiful, and even though you were just one car in the infinite stream of vehicles on the highway, you felt somehow free. With the windows rolled down all the way and music bumping softly through Hanseul’s car’s speaker, you remember shutting your eyes and just...breathing for a minute. And that was enough.

“Jesus Christ!” Hanseul shouted with a belabored sigh, and your eyes snapped open once more. You were quick to locate the source of his frustration and found, merging into your lane from the right, a massive freight truck. “I will never understand the hubris of semi drivers who think it’s a good idea to pass other semi drivers.”

Settling your racing heart, you sighed and breathed a laugh. “Impatience I guess,” you remarked, but he was prickly beside you and you knew he wasn’t finished.

He scoffed. “As if passing that guy is gonna get him there any faster,” he said, then rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Everyone should just go their own pace.”

And with that, he stopped talking. And you returned to leaning your head against the passenger doorframe, gazing out at the line of cars entering the highway.

The sun is white hot on your bare skin as you tread water, face bobbing just below the ocean’s surface. Floating like a buoy, you squint into the endless blue to catch a glimpse of some wildlife. It’s not as easy as it looks on Instagram, that much is clear to you now. The waves waves are gentle but restless as they rock you around and the plastic of the snorkel pushes uncomfortably against the sensitive skin of your lips. Your arms and legs are still sore from the previous day’s hike, and now your thighs ache from gripping the ATV. But somehow, despite the hardiness of it all, as you float parallel to the ocean floor, you can’t help but stare with wide-eyed wonder every time a flash of red fin or plume of underwater dust catches your eye. And so, mystified, you swim onward.

You feel someone swim up beside you, but it’s too much labor to look and you can’t tear your eyes away from a particularly beautiful fish cresting over the top of some coral beyond your fingertips. It’s only when that someone taps your shoulder that you finally snap from your daze and, blinking quickly, burst out from beneath the water and shove your snorkel to the side. Fearing catastrophe, you turn gasping toward Jimin as he wades beside you with a grin.

And your heart settles down.

You pat your chest a little and sigh. “Jesus,” you mumble.

“Scared you?” he asks, and from this close it’s hard not to get caught up in the brown of his eyes, in the wet ends of his dark hair as they dangle just above his eyebrows.

With the saltwater and the sunlight kissing his skin, he’s practically glowing.

You shake your head. “What’s up?” you ask.

He points with one finger toward the water below and wiggles his brows. “You wanna go down with me? The instructor said it’s really awesome.”

You stare at him for a long moment, trying to discern any malintent or ulterior motive and, upon gleaning none, settle for a nervous, breathy laugh. “Ah, I dunno…,” you say, rubbing your nose with the side of your finger. You look away, toward Jungkook’s fins as they flap violently against the glassy surface of the water. “I’m happy just looking from up here.”

Jimin hums a little. “You sure?” he asks, eyeing you like he knows something you don’t. “You seemed really into it when I came over.”

You swallow hard and your mouth tastes like seawater and anxiety. “No, I’m…,” you start, but it’s weak. The sentence trails into nothing.

He smiles bright enough to blind and you almost have to shield your eyes. “Come on,” he says, offering his hand toward you. “We’ll go down together and come back up together. I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”

You stare at his outstretched fingers, pruny and slightly sunkissed, and ponder for a moment. Were you always so tepid? So lukewarm? Wasn’t there ever a time in your life when you did things just because they sounded fun? Thinking back, it’s hard to pinpoint the precise moment you became so pragmatic, so afraid. Perhaps when your parents told you a career in art wouldn’t work out for you. That you didn’t have the stuff. Perhaps even before that.

But deep down, buried deeper than you’d like you admit, there’s a part of you that’s always wanted to zipline through the jungle. To ride ATVs. To see the coral up close.

That slumbering part of you is beginning to awaken.

And you wonder as you take Jimin’s hand with an uncertain smile if this has been your pace all along.

He giggles and the two of you dive in unison. You follow the instructions the snorkeling teachers gave you on the boat, and you hold your breath just the way you’re supposed to. Nonetheless, the deeper you swim, the cooler the water becomes and the more your nerves begin to rattle.

Only this time, you don’t find it unpleasant. Not at all, actually.

Because Jimin’s hand is warm.

The two of you coast to a stop in front of the vibrant red coral as a school of orange fish rushes by in a wave. You both reel back for only a moment and then, catching each other’s eyes, exchange the biggest smiles your snorkels allow. And boy is Jimin right. It is awesome. You swear you’ve never seen colors like this. Juxtaposed against the perfect blue all around, the coral reef stands like a mountain underwater, fish flying like birds around the jagged pink peaks, hiding in the deep purple. Anemones wave so close you’re tempted to touch them, and as you lean closer for a better look, you see a red seahorse nestled beside a green sea plant. As if sensing you there, the tiny fish scoots out from its cover and makes its way toward you. Eagerly, you extend your index finger and the creature nudges you just slightly before continuing on its way to the other side of the coral barrier.

Your heart is pounding, racing like a sports car and loud like one too. You turn toward Jimin with eyes blown wide and he’s grinning at you, so fond. He gives your hand a squeeze and you can’t help but squeeze back. Wordlessly, he jerks his head toward the surface, and the way the water plays with his hair makes it look like silk. You’re distracted for a moment by how beautiful it is, how beautiful he is, but he squeezes your hand again and once more jerks his chin upward. Ah! You need air!

You only realize it as Jimin makes a motion toward the surface, but now that you’re conscious of it it’s all you can think of. Quickly, the two of you begin kicking in unison toward where the water breaks way and, as you pop out from below, the two of you gasp a little while catching your breath. Wasting not a single second, you rip your snorkel off and shove your goggles up against your hairline. Grinning so wide it hurts, you smack Jimin’s shoulder.

“That was--!! It was--!!” you begin, but you can’t even finish your sentence.

Jimin laughs, that one laugh that sounds like bells, and his eyes nearly vanish as he smiles. “Right?” he asks.

You nod, clapping your hand against your cheek. “God! Did you see that seahorse?!”

“I did!”

“Wasn’t it--?!”

“It was!”

You laugh, exhilarated, and stare down at the distorted coral reef below your feet, warped by the shifting water. Your heart is a hammer in your chest. “Jimin!” you exclaim, not knowing quite what else to say.

He laughs. “Yeah!”

You turn to him, sincerely this time as the adrenaline slowly drains from your body, and meet his half-shut eyes. You realize with a start that you’re still holding his hand quite tight. And he’s making no move to change that. Gently, you squeeze.

“Thank you,” you say, and it’s all you can say really.

Drifting together in the middle of the ocean, two dots floating in the blue expanse, there’s something both completely insignificant and totally profound about it all. You can’t name it, but the sensation in your chest feels like when you finally get the water out of your ear after a day at the pool. Like something got dislodged.

And as Jimin looks at you with that bright smile, you smile back. “I’m glad you came,” he says gently.

And it’s honest.

Almost honest enough to make you forget the things he said when you first met.

“Why’d you say all that stuff at the bar back home?” you manage to ask over the sound of Hoseok laughing nearby.

You glance over to where Hoseok and Jungkook swim chatting away, much like you and Jimin.

Only they aren’t holding hands.

Jimin’s hand goes a little tight and he clears his throat. “Uh...well,” he begins, but before he can continue, Namjoon pops up from below the water right beside you.

You scream in surprise and smack the top of his head with your snorkel, but Namjoon only laughs and gives you a splash. “What’re you guys doing? There’s a whole ocean down there!” he asks, but when his eyes travel sideways toward Jimin, his expression changes. Like a nervous dog.

You look too and see Jimin looks...well, pretty mad. You can’t put your finger on it, but it’s like there’s some tension between Jimin and Namjoon today. A sense of competition perhaps? It’s hard to say. But as you stare at Jimin now, his brow is low and his jaw is clenched and he quietly slips his hand from yours.

You’re not expecting to be sitting beside legendary producer Min Yoongi on a rattling motor boat in the middle of the ocean, but here you are. Life is funny that way, you suppose as the two of you jostle against one another. Shoulder-to-shoulder you sit like students on a field trip, neither one saying much of anything at all. As the sun begins its lazy descent across the sky, you’re stranded, sunburnt, returning to shore after a long afternoon with the fish.

You glance around for someone to save you, to perhaps sweep you up in one of the several shouting conversations being held around you on all sides, but your eyes can’t seem to snag anyone else’s. Well, besides Namjoon who eagerly widens his own and gives you that big dumb smile that somehow has become bigger and dumber since arriving on the island. Even Jimin won’t look at you and is, in fact, sulking at the end of the rows of benches, gazing out at the trail of sunset leaking out across the water like a golden road. Perhaps he’s wondering, like you, what it might be like to walk on it.

Or perhaps he’s mad at you.

Your heart sinks.

You can’t place it, but he doesn’t seem himself. After sliding his hand from inside yours, he’d swum away from you and Namjoon to begin chatting with Yoongi. It’s not easy to make a show of being mad when you’re treading water in the middle of the sea, but he managed. As goofy as it was to watch him doggie-paddle away in a huff, part of you worried that you’d somehow set him off. Like you’d activated that part of him from the night you met, the angry, bitter part that he’s been holding in the entire trip so far.

But what could you have done?

Nothing, as far as you’re concerned. He’s neither a friend nor a lover. He’s just…someone you know through Namjoon. Just a cursory orbiter in your solar system. You barely think about him when you’re apart.

Well…you used to.

Now, as you watch him watching the water, it’s all you can do not to stand up on wobbly sea legs and stumble over to him with crossed arms and demand he tell you what’s wrong. And, more disturbingly, now as you watch him watching the water, there’s a strange, sickly sweet part of you that wants to sit beside him and press the bare skin of your thigh against his.

“He’s just moody,” Yoongi says from beside you, the first words he’s spoken to you during the entirety of this trip.

Your eyes go wide and you turn only your head — it’s the only part of you that’s not squished between him and the inside of the boat — to look at him. Pale and pretty, Yoongi is watching Jimin too. But with a considerably less troubled expression than your own. He slides his eyes toward you and offers a small, barely there smile.

“You’re worried, right?” he continues.

You think for a moment, think about lying, but the motor on this boat is far too loud for anyone else to hear your conversation and besides…it sounds like Yoongi’s got some information on Jimin that you want to know.

Not that you like him or anything.

You nod. “Yeah, a little. Things were really cool all day today, but…,” you begin, then sigh and shrug. “Seems like maybe he doesn’t like me much.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Doubt that,” he says, then rolls his eyes like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, whatever he’s thinking.

Only it’s not obvious. You have no idea what’s going on in that genius brain of his, and the way he eyes you sidelong let’s you know he’s not going to tell you. Not easily anyway.

So you sigh and rest your cheek in your hand. “I just think he hates me,” you continue, doubling down, hoping that circumnavigation will get you to the treasure.

Yoongi cocks a brow. “He definitely doesn’t hate you,” he says, and there’s something in the word ‘definitely’ that sounds like he’s hiding something inside it.

“We were having such a nice time,” you go on, feigning a heavy sigh, “but then poof. Like nothing even happened. I think I made him mad.”

“If you’re trying to get me to gossip about my friend, I’ll tell you right now,” Yoongi begins, then leans toward you with a conspiratorial smirk, “all you had to do was ask.”

Your eyes alight and you grin. “Really?”

“Jimin’s scoping you out,” Yoongi says, nodding once like again it’s obvious. “He’s testing the waters.”

“Why?”

“Duh,” he says with a laugh. “He’s interested in you. Has been since we all met at the bar.”

You stiffen. Interested? You can’t really fathom it. Someone like him, a bona fide and self admitted heart breaker, is interested in you? Perhaps you’ve been dating too many Hanseuls but the thought of a Jimin being interested in you is inconceivable.

“How’d you know?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

He smiles and shakes his head. “We’ve been friends for ages now. I know when he’s interested in someone,” he says. He pauses, glances at Jimin only to find him now staring with wide eyes at the two of you. Like you’re sharing secrets. Which…you suppose now that you are. “He doesn’t always know though.”

“Really?” you ask, meeting Jimin’s worried eyes from across the boat. You offer a smile, almost like a white flag, which he doesn’t reciprocate.

“He’s been through bad relationships in the past. You know how that goes, from what Namjoon says,” Yoongi pauses to laugh.

You go hot. You didn't known Namjoon had made your relationship information public domain. You’ll have to have a word with him soon. “From the way he talked at the bar, sounds like he’s the one who puts other people through bad relationships.”

“No, that’s a recent development,” says Yoongi, nodding. “He wasn’t always like that. Used to be a really attentive guy, but…I dunno. You get burned one too many times and you start doing the burning I guess.”

You cock a brow. “Is that right?” you ask, and plead with your unreasonable heart to stop pounding like mad in your chest. Why are you so excited to learn about him? “Seems like a real player.”

“Who still uses that word?” Yoongi teases with a laugh and you’re surprised by just how often he laughs. “Anyway, no. He only seems that way. He’s actually, like…really possessive and jealous. Kinda what self destructed his last real relationship.”

“No way,” you say, recalling what he’d said that night.

If you get hurt you’re the one whose expectations were too high.

Was that advice for me or for himself? I turn to look at Jimin only to find him with that same nervousness etched into his features. He swipes his tongue along his bottom lip and knits his brows. You don’t know what exactly he’s so afraid of, don’t know what sort of relationship has warped him so badly, but you’re certain that this anxious, worried Jimin is the real one.

And so is the one who helped you at the zipline on the first day.

And so is the one who held your hand underwater.

And so is the one who is still giving you the silent treatment.

You understand better than anyone that emotional trauma manifests in many ways. For you, it was burning your first easel and giving your paints away to your cousin back in high school. For you, it was getting a boring office job to make your parents proud. For you it was dating Hanseul after Hanseul expecting it to be different.

It’s never different.

But there’s one thing you know for sure: Park Jimin is very, very different.

The Fijian bar is packed to the nines with tourists from all walks of life. Some tall, burly men in Hawaiian shirts — somehow simultaneously on brand and horrendously off brand for Fiji —, a few couples kissing and toughing over margaritas, a bachelorette party — who can afford a bachelorette party to Fiji? — and a whole hosts of other guests flood the scene. It doesn’t seem like Namjoon’s cup of tea, however, and it isn’t yours either. Not really. You prefer lively dive bars with questionable clientele and cheap drinks over tourist traps like this. But as they hand you your cocktail in a plastic tiki mug, you decide perhaps the campiness isn’t that bad. Especially as you take your first sip and realize they pour as heavy here as they do back home.

Jimin’s still boycotting you, and you don’t even bother wondering why. Different is alluring, it’s enchanting, it’s intriguing…

But it’s still dangerous.

And besides, once you leave this island and the magic spell breaks, you’ll see everything more clearly. Jimin included.

And so you’re boycotting him too.

Eagerly, you stand smushed between Yoongi and Jungkook as the fire dancers — is fire dancing even Fijian? — take the floor with an artistic flair. The crowd is electric, excited, and extremely drunk as you all chant for the dancers to take the stage. (Really, is fire dancing Fijian at all?) Jungkook grabs your shoulder and shakes it, causing you to both jump and laugh at the same time, and the three of you stand under the glow of the lanterns hanging on strings overhead. If you look up, you almost mistake them for stars.

As the dancers begin their performance, you cheer with all your chest, and you feel someone press close behind you. You can tell from the firmness of his chest that it’s Namjoon, staring over your shoulder at the stage. It’s hard to get a good view, especially with everyone so drunk, so you lean back and tilt your head out of his way. One hand drapes over your other shoulder as the other nurses his drink and you chat easily with Namjoon despite the physical proximity.

You two may as well have been siblings, anyway.

Had Jimin been that close to you…

Well, you try not to think of that as you work your swirly straw between your teeth.

“Pretty cool,” Namjoon says, but you catch the way his voice sounds just a little listless.

You turn slightly to face him with a grin and, poking his cheek where his dimple would be if he smiled, you giggle. Oh boy, you’re drunk. “I know you’d rather be dancing in caves or fishing for eels, but this can be fun too!”

Namjoon relents with a smile and swats your hand away. “You’re right,” he says easily, sighing as he rests close behind you. “Although fishing for eels sounds really cool.”

You smack his leg with the back of your hand and he responds with laughter. “You know, eels are actually-,”

“Hey,” says a voice you hardly recognize, a voice belonging to Jimin. Only when he speaks now it’s so low and deep in his chest it doesn’t sound like him at all.

You didn’t notice, but he’s taken up Jungkook’s spot at your left and he’s staring at you, all wrapped up in Namjoon, like you’ve committed a horrible crime. For all you know, you have. Nonetheless, you’re too drunk to be too worried and you give him a bright smile and a wave with your drink-less hand.

He edges closer, skin electric as he presses against your side. “You’re smashed,” he remarks, like it’s news.

You laugh. “Mhm!”

He furrows his brow. “You sure you’re good to stay out here?”

“I’m watching, don’t worry,” Namjoon offers with a well-meaning smile.

But this only serves to make Jimin bristle further. He stares at you two like you’re a disfigured monster, two conjoined bodies linked from chest to back, a horrible science experiment gone wrong. And you can’t decide what mixture of emotions is dancing in his dark, heavy eyes but you know it’s no good.

“Alright then,” Jimin says with a sharp nod. “I won’t worry anymore.”

Only you want him to worry. If you’re being honest with yourself — which you are now because he’s right, you’re smashed — you want him to do more than worry. You want him to take your hand and hold it tight. You want him to press his lips against yours in the hallway by the bathrooms. You want his hands on your hips, then on your legs, then—

Well…

Jimin turns around to skulk back to the bar and you let him. Things are spinning and they’re getting too intense too fast. That’s the difference between A Jimin and A Hanseul. That’s the devastating difference. Where Hanseul adds stability, constancy, a bland sort of expectation, Jimin adds…

Excitement.

Perhaps it’s the old artist in you, the one you push down so fervently you often wonder if it’s died in there, but the idea both entrances you and terrifies you in equal measure. So you stay leaning back against Namjoon’s chest, swaying as you watch the fire dancers dazzle and delight, and watch out the corner of your eye as Jimin begins chatting with a particularly attractive blond tourist at the bar.

You pretend not to notice Jimin’s hand on the stranger’s thigh.

The next morning the stranger’s in your Airbnb. You’re the first one awake, having had a wicked headache as soon as you opened your eyes, and as you stare blankly into your coffee mug you hear footsteps coming almost bashfully from down the hallway. Nobody else is around in the living room. Just you, your coffee, and the footsteps. Squinting, you watch as the stranger, not even registering your presence, tiptoes down toward the kitchen and rifles through the fridge. Watching carefully, you almost laugh at the way the stranger picks up each fruit, inspects it, and puts it back before settling for a yogurt.

“Sleeping over and stealing food?” you remark, and you mean for the comment to sound teasing and playful. But it comes out bitter. Sincere.

The stranger lets out a particularly sharp scream before turning to you and dropping the yogurt onto the countertop. “Oh! Uh…shit…I’m…sorry I’ll just…go…now, uh…”

You can feel the awkwardness rising in the room, the sense of intimate dislike coming from both of you — mostly you. And before you can say another word, the stranger is gone, having shuffled like a raccoon caught mid-trash-heist out the front door with a click. You sigh, grip your nose bridge, and shake your head.

“Wow,” says Jimin from the hallway, leaning against the wall with crossed arms and a frown. “Very mature.”

You roll your eyes. “You know it’s not that kind of trip and you still brought a stranger over,” you say, then look at him square. You’re both fuming. “At least vet the people you sleep with to make sure they’re not thieves.”

“It was breakfast,” he says. “Jesus Christ, you’re so stiff.”

Your body goes cold. Who is this new person in Jimin’s skin? Gone is the warm, comforting man who’d helped you day in and day out. In his place was someone new, someone off-putting. You clench your jaw. “Yeah well at least I don’t invite randos over to a shared Airbnb.”

“God,” he groans, lolling his head back like you exhaust him. “Do you ever get tired of being such a fucking stick in the mud?”

You feel your spine stiffen and set your mug of coffee aside. “Pardon me?”

“Like, does it ever get tiring?” he repeats, rolling his beautiful eyes, giving a cruel smirk. You hate that those beautiful lips can curve so wickedly. “Oh, I can’t do it! Oh, I’ll just stay back! Oh, I don’t even like painting,” he says with a dramatic mimicry of your own voice.

How does he know about the painting?

Namjoon…

Your throat constricts. “I’m trying, Jimin,” you say, but your voice comes out thick, labored. Because it’s not true. Because you’re not trying. Not in the real world. Not when you leave this island.

If you keep talking to him, you’ll cry for sure.

Just like before.

He laughs. “Trying?”

“At least I give enough of a shit to try at all!” you snap, and you expect regret to seep into your chest immediately, but it doesn’t come.

Jimin seems taken aback. He cocks a brow. “What’re you saying?”

“At least I’m still brave enough to care,” you continue, standing to your feet and brushing past him. You pause beside him and fix him with a hard glare. “Don’t talk to me again,” you say, and you spit the final word, “ever.”

And he doesn’t. Not as the pack travels through town and picks up little trinkets. Not while you stick practically glued to Namjoon’s side through alleyways and along crowded streets. Not during the night hike or the cave exploring or the picnic on the cliff. Not for days.

Not at all.

And you’re relieved, you think, that he’s respecting your request at least.

But you’re also burdened so heavily it’s like weights on your chest all the time. Because when you happen to meet his eyes, in the instant before you both look away, you see a fresh sort of hurt and you know it’s you who inflicted it this time. You know you touched on something too sensitive. And just because he poked at your open wound doesn’t mean you had a right to poke at his. There’s a vulnerable sort of awareness between you two, awareness of each other. So as you avoid touching the exposed skin of his shoulder with your hand while reaching for a necklace at a street vendor, or as you sweep a hand out in the darkness of the cave, seeking purchase, and nearly grab his forearm, the two of you are quick to repel like magnets.

You sit on a surfboard now, and the moon makes a road of light along the water just as the sun had. It’s the middle of the night, and you’re straddling both sides of the board as the waves rock you back and forth. And you tilt and you sway and you shut your eyes. A few weeks ago you’d have winced at the idea of floating out in the water at night, feet dangling over the expanse of ocean nothing below that extends who knows how far. You’d have called yourself crazy.

Maybe you are crazy.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

You open your eyes and see that road of light. Namjoon told you once that the Swedes have a word for it. Mångata. He told you that last night as the two of you sat on the beach. You’d been doing that lately, too uncomfortable to spend much time in the Airbnb with Jimin lurking about in the shadows and the walls and the scent of the pillows. He’s practically everywhere in there, even when he’s gone.

Namjoon also told you he thinks something’s wrong with Jimin. Something’s shaken him up.

You told him you didn’t care.

And he didn’t tell you anything more.

You kind of wish he would have.

Jimin hasn’t brought home any more strays, not since you and him had your monumental blowout. And while you’re glad he’s respecting you and the others more, you’re also worried. More worried than that day on the boat. More worried than that night at the bar.

Because you see it too. What Namjoon sees. Something is wrong.

Jimin floats several feet away, breaking the mångata into shards of displaced moonlight. He’s a silhouette, small and dark, but outlined by glowing silver. He’s beautiful, even from so far away. Especially from so far away. Ethereal. His head bobs a little and he smiles as he chats with Jungkook and Hoseok. But the smile isn’t all the way there. Even so, it’s lovely. Perhaps because he’s the only one in the road of moonlight, or perhaps because even a halfway ghost of a smile is beautiful if it’s Jimin.

For a painful, blissful moment, almost too short to note, almost too fleeting to feel, you have the irresistible urge to paint it. The road of moonlight, the mångata, leading right from the heavens to Jimin. Shattering like glass, the moonlight breaks behind his board. But he’s suspended in it.

You might cry again just looking at it.

You’re sure you’re all choked up. Night surfing shouldn’t make you cry. But you can’t help it. It’s like your art teacher said, like glimpsing sublimity. It’s torment, staring at it, knowing you can’t paint it and even if you could…you wouldn’t do it. You know your face reveals it all. It always does. And you know that if Namjoon so much as peeks at you, he’ll know you’re about to cry.

Not that he did the night you first met Jimin at the bar. In fact, the only person who seemed to realize you were near to tears that night was-

Jimin seizes your wandering, teary eyes. They lock on hard, like a vice grip, and hold tight. The moonlight’s on you, at least from where Jimin sits on his board, and you’re close enough to make out his features so you know he can make out yours. His eyes go wide like he knows and you know he knows for sure now because he’s paddling with his hands for rudders toward you which makes you panic for real and spin wildly around toward the shore.

You paddle and paddle like mad until your toes touch sand and you abandon your surfboard in the crashing waves forgetting it’s attached to you by your ankle. So you drag the surfboard behind you as the surf tries to drag it back. You know you can easily remove the ankle band and carry the surfboard like a normal person, but God you can’t seem to manage actually doing it because your heart is racing and you feel as if Jimin has unwittingly seen an extremely, horribly, heat-achingly intimate moment.

“Wait!” he calls, breathless, mere yards behind you despite you head start.

You’re crying in earnest now, sobbing as you fight with the cord tethering you to your board, tethering you to that moment on the waves. It’s like you and the surfboard are becoming one thing; you’re completely helpless to the whims of the ocean as it tears you back and spits you out. The tip of the foam board keeps rocking against the sand before the whole thing gets yanked out again and, frustrated, you finally bend down too late to disconnect yourself. But by the time you and the surfboard are once again separate entities, Jimin has run up behind you and is standing, panting, with his surfboard against his hip.

Your tears fall right off your chin and into the water around your ankles before they disappear on the receding wave. An ocean of stars is splayed out overhead, but you can’t even lift your eyes to see it, hands braced on both your knees, sobbing.

And this is the moment.

The moment you finally snap.

And when it happens, it does hurt. Bad.

Because Jimin was never really just Jimin, not really. He was more than that to you, represented more than that. He was the easel you burned. He was the art college brochure you hid from your parents. He was the job listing you saw as an apprentice painter three weeks before going on this trip. He was every missed opportunity, every chance you rejected. He was all of it wrapped into one pretty package.

And he’s staring at you.

You manage to wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, but it’s not enough to stop the tears. It’s as if a valve has broken in you that can’t be fixed until everything’s been spilled out of it. An old valve too. As old as you.

“Shit,” he says, like it’s a catchphrase.

You sniffle. “You said that before too,” you choke out through sobs. “At the bar back home.”

He looks at you horrified for a moment before shaking his head. “I know, I…I just…sometimes I do and say things that just fucking suck, you know? Like they just…,” he says, tormented, as he rakes his fingers through his sea slick hair. “Like I can’t help it. It just comes out.”

“Because you’re hurt,” you say, still crying, nearly incoherent.

And his eyes snap back to your splotchy face with the kind of intensity that sets things on fire. “Huh?”

You nod. “That’s why you like me, right?” you ask, sniffling as you struggle to stand upright. “Because I’m hurt too. Hurt people find each other.”

Jimin is still and silent as stone before slowly, he touches a hand to his cheek and keeps it there. “I…it’s not like I’m hurt,” he says. “Just…that my first real relationship ended badly.”

“Yoongi told me,” you say, finally in control of your rapid breathing. “A little.”

Jimin stiffens before, like a rock, collapsing on the ground with his feet halfway in the waves’ path. Not knowing what else to do, you join him. “I thought we’d be together for life, you know? Like…I really believed that.”

You think back to Hanseul. Did you ever feel that way about him? “Mhm,” is all you can choke out.

“But…you know, things fall apart. I guess I was…I was expecting too much without giving all of myself,” he begins, nodding once as he wiped the space beneath his eyes. “Like you said. Half of me.”

“Did your ex say that to you?” you ask carefully, minding each syllable as you forced them out.

He nods. “Just like that too. You’re only giving me half of you and expecting all of me in return,” he repeats, sighing. “That’s why I did it!” he imitates.

“Did what?”

He’s quiet, and you know now why he was so hard on you at the bar. Why he’d known exactly where your weak points were. Because they were his weak points too.

“Why are you crying?” he asks finally, the elephant on the beach.

You swallow hard, the tears having slowed enough to see properly. Enough to see all your friends enjoying the surf and the moonlight. “Because it just…hit me,” you say slowly. “All at once, with no warning at all. It…hit me for real.”

“Is it because we’re leaving soon?”

You shake your head. “That’s not what I mean.” He’s quiet and you know he’s waiting for you to continue. You’re waiting too, if you’re being honest. To find the words. To understand it. “I mean…all of it. The entire crushing culmination of everything I’ve ever not accomplished.” You pause, watch your hands as they lace and unlace. “I think I get why Joon wanted us to come out here.”

“I was jealous,” Jimin admits. More like blurts, because the way he looks now once you meet his eyes is like he didn’t mean to say it. He’s blushing like crazy and he’s got a feral look in his eye. You await his next admission. “Of you and Namjoon. Even though it’s stupid. Even though we…you and me…we aren’t…”

You blink at him. “We aren’t what?”

“We aren’t anything.”

“Who says?”

He stares at you for a long moment. “Then you and Namjoon?”

You shake your head. “Good friends.”

“I…well shit,” he says again, a mantra. He rubs his forehead. “I’m stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“Just…you kinda reminded me what it was like to, like…,” he begins, tossing the words around in his mouth like they still aren’t right, “like feel butterflies, you know?” He shrugs. “To wanna show up for someone. To wanna try.”

You stiffen. It seems the two of you had a propensity for finding each other’s Achilles heel. You’d pinned him as well as he’d pinned you. “I…,” you begin, but there’s nothing you can say. Nothing you can do.

Well…

There is one thing.

But that one thing would change everything. Not just between you and Jimin, but between you and you. Between who you try to be and who you are. Between the life you’ve told yourself to be happy with and the life you want, the life you need.

This one thing…

It’s going to take more than a little courage.

If you’re feeling really nervous, I’ve heard it helps to shut your eyes and count to ten. Like, tell yourself you’re definitely gonna do it once you reach ten and just…go.

One.

He’s staring at you with stars reflected in his eyes.

Two.

Your heart is racing.

Three.

Your palms are itchy in the sand.

Four.

But he’s looking at you, looking like he really sees you.

Five.

Hanseul never looked at you like that.

Six.

Nobody ever looked at you like that.

Seven.

He’s red, his whole face.

Eight.

You’re shaking.

Nine.

Don’t you want to paint it?

Ten.

You lean forward on your hip and, without a word, press your lips agains his. They’re soft, every bit as soft as you imagined and softer, and his skin yields against your light touch. You shuffle closer and so does he, hand snaking around your waist to rest on your lower back, head tilting to deepen the kiss. There’s no teeth-clashing, no cataclysm. There’s a tenderness that only comes from understanding, and it’s warm pressed against him. He draws you closer, holds you by the waist now, you arms around his neck and hands lacing through his saltwater hair. He tastes like ocean, like coconut and sunscreen and salt. And his skin it hot beneath your fingertips, flaming practically. You can’t stop inching closer and closer until—

He pulls away for a breath, eyes wide and so close your noses touch. “Shit,” he exhales, only this time the word feels nice.

And you don’t know what this means or what you’ll do when you get home, but you know you’ve got to quit your job. And you know you’ve got to dust off your easel. And you know, most definitely, that you’ve got to kiss Park Jimin again.

And so you do.

Again.

And again.

And one more time for good measure.

And as you pull away, breathless, your eyes lock and he smiles just a little. “Does this mean I can talk to you again?” he asks.

You shove him lightly by the chest only for him to pull the two of you back together again like magnets, only this time you don’t repel. He smiles so bright it eclipses the moon and, without moving, without breathing, you ask, “Can I paint you?”

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dansiere · 5 years ago

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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm. tagged by: @breselin, & @citialiin; thank you for the tag! I was planning on stealing it. tagging: @rosiqe, @noirtux, @goldgliitters, @ndeavor, @reminiscentsky, @battleshell, @ettards & whoever else wants to do this. Just steal it & tag me. -- go wild.

My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated [loosely affiliated mainly due to the fandom’s size. I am quite open to crossovers of any kind, really even if it takes me a while to open up.]

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO. [she is one of the deuteragonists; has been around since the pilot & while she has been sidelined during the epilogue, she was usually at least around with her story arc / actions having a huge impact on the overall story as such.]

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK. [I guess so? Then again, that’s an objective statement so I am just? Assuming? I personally find her general aesthetics to be quite amazing; she is a dance battler, graceful & elegant; a ballerina with a classical theme that runs through her design & attitude like a red threat. I have a weak spot for stuff like that.]

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK. [surprisingly, Pearl is considered to be the strongest non-fusion Crystal Gem according to the show (until Lapis Lazuli comes around). -- I assume prowess wise Pearl is high up next to Garnet & Rose whenever she can actually get her crap together due to having fought countless battles &, most importantly, survived the war in which she fought & shattered opponents thrice her size.]

Are they underrated? YES / NO / IDK. [partially yes, partially no. She is controversial for sure but just as popular. At some point, the show delved deeper into her issues & actually had her mess up quite severely; the fandom’s reaction was so harsh that the showrunners had to interfere by “apologizing for making her human”. Pearl has always been a target for extreme criticism; some of it justified, some just straight down ridiculous. -- It’s easy to forget what kind of complexity a character can offer when her resolution arc happens literally ten episodes before the show ends.]

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. [Pearl becomes Steven’s guardian / mentor after the death of his mother Rose Quartz & can later be considered his stand-in mother alongside Garnet. It is safe to say that her actions have influenced Steven the most, both negatively & positively.]

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO. [she earned herself the title ‘The Renegade’ during the war for being the first (& arguably only) pearl that broke out of her conditioning; she used to be a wanted criminal / traitor to her own kind for 5000 + years until her record was cleared upon the beginning of Era 3 (aka official end of the Gem War). She is still being referred to as ‘The Renegade’ now & then; while she used to be proud of the title she has grown to resent it a lot these days.]

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. [it depends on who you ask; Homeworld Soldiers? Well, they despise her; she is a defective Gem & a war criminal. She stands for all that is wrong with the rebellion; I mean a pearl who refuses to serve & calls herself an individual? a warrior? THE SCANDAL!! Some soldiers are afraid of her, call her ‘Rose Quartz’ terrifying renegade’, even. However, in her ranks aka the rebellion, she is being seen as a silent heroine. A celebrated war hero, Rose Quartz’s right hand & sole confidante (some even whisper that there is more between them).]

How strictly do you follow canon? — uh... well. Not really but... kinda? Steven Universe’s canon is messy & occasionally QUITE inconsistent. -- while it gives you vague details, some lore can best be compared to a gaping void. Thus my reason for partial divergence isn’t lack of good character writing (because Pearl is very, very complex even on screen), but rather inconvenient lore holes & SU’s habit of leaving important facts uncommented, “unshown” or just stuck between the lines. While I don’t mind deep analysis, some of those “buried facts” fly other people’s heads which leads to terrible, terrible fanon takes. -- in order to distance myself from that, I usually take canon & expand it with my own headcanons & metas based on lore / show analysis. I often alter / cut what does not fit my narrative BUT I always root my stuff in actual canon occurrences.

Sometimes, I just straight down change certain things that canon messed up in my pov. For example, in order to make it explicitly clear that she fell in love & rebelled on her own volition (even if it has been confirmed like ten times by now), my Pearl is around 1500 years older than the original & (in)directly served White Diamond before being handed to Pink (not the only reason for that change but well I will elude on it eventually). She was a default pearl with no customization & usually spent most of her time with organizing matters in the palace until Pink accidentally broke her customized pearl; Pearl was then 'poofed’ & handed over; she possessed a more sensible personality & a strict rule protocol that was supposed to help her “raise” Pink Diamond into the ranks of a ruler. Most other changes are rather minor but very important or essential to my portrayal (for example whenever “A Single Pale Rose” is concerned: Pearl suggesting the “sealing of the secret”, her not wearing the dress from the beginning, her not calling Pink “my diamond”, her arguing with Pink long before the fake-shattering took place, etc etc.); the epilogue series is another can of worms I will get to eventually but lemme just say I didn’t really like the way Pearl behaved / the plot-bound ooc-ness she sometimes yielded to & other stuff.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals. — well, she is a lesbian space rock from a strange universe; whose body is basically a manifestation of light? She is probably the most passionate being you will ever meet. -- if you are looking for a speedrun through human history, she is your gal. If you need someone to beat up some bullies, she will gladly come & smack sense into people; if you want to learn everything about Gemkind, sit down & listen because she won’t stop talking any time soon.

By definition, Pearl is a good person; the extreme loyal kind, absolutely & helplessly dedicated to a cause. She wears most of her emotions on her sleeve, comes off as genuinely caring, protective & trustworthy. She is empathetic & observant, she will always be there for you in one way or another. She is smart, loves to read & indulges in the higher arts such as (romantic) poetry, singing, painting, music (violin, piano, bass) & dance (predominately classic ballet / waltz but she has grown rather fond of jazz lately). Her knowledge about Earth & all that lays beyond is vast & if you ever want to see whatever is out there, she is the type to take you on a space tour with no questions asked. She fences, has learned to wield a lance, can engineer very well, has a very peculiar but... sorta adorable kind of humour that can either be hella obnoxious or super funny. There is no in-between. Pearl loves science, baking, housekeeping, ice-& roller-skating & is more than willing to take people along whenever she visits the rink. If you ask her for advice, she will gladly give it; if you need help, she will be the first to raise her hand. Pearl is orderly, has a strong sense of justice & a fierce, dedicated kind of resolve.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?). — Pearl. Is. A. Mess. No questions asked. She is an introverted, nervous, neurotic, grief-- & trauma riddled mess who loves to pretend & rationalize things to death. Her self-esteem is abysmal, she is extremely jealous, obsessive & possessive [to the point where she straight up murdered men just because they dared to be around her girlfriend]. Her mind is a compartmentalized mess of repressed memories & heavy, untreated cptsd woven into it; Pearl lives too much inside her head & gets overwhelmed by her emotions far too easily; she feels too much all at once & lets her temper get the best of her.

She is self-centred, does not seem to understand that words & reckless actions hurt people, believes that only she deserves to grieve Rose & willingly destroyed relationships just to soak in her own misery; self-destruction is her forte & she will indulge in it no matter the consequences. She is often high-strung, judgemental, always has to be right, overachieves & overdoes whenever a chance is given. -- she can be petty, arrogant & desperate for validation. -- Needless to say, Pearl is the kind of person that pretends to be fine for years but once she cracks she reveals that she is anything but. -- she cannot move on, hates men, & just is a lot to deal with. Getting in touch with her means you run the risk to get dragged into her mess, whenever you want it or not.

What inspired you to rp your muse? — first & foremost, my love for complex, purpose-driven female characters. I am a sucker for the “introvert, plagued lady” type & once parts of Pearl’s past were revealed during Season 1 I was sold. Pearl seemed relatable to me, extremely human & raw in her behaviour. While I love most of the SU cast equally, Pearl just wouldn’t let me go. Her aesthetic is amazing, her past intriguing. -- her connection to ballet & classical music, her elegant & graceful design just spoke to me.

What keeps your inspiration going? — music. music. oh, and music. Poetry, long walks (I am not kidding), analysis, meta & hc writing, discussions with writing partners or my rl partner @rosiqe.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice? YES / NO / I SINCERELY HOPE I DO? [ despite my emo peculiar take on the character, I do hope that people hear her voice whenever they read my replies. ]

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO / SORT OF? [ I wish I could post more but I am very, very slow & a perfectionist at heart. -- I try to compensate for my lack of actual hcs by rambling in my tags. Most part of the time said ramblings include personal headcanons or analyses of specific scenes that include personal takes on pivotal situations; while I gather & write them down eventually, it can take me a long time to get stuff done. -- it is easier for me to jus blabber on & on in the tags. ]

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO [ all my ask replies are drabbles, ngl. ]

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO / SORT OF? [... a sore topic. While I love my headcanons & have gotten quite proud of my writing over time, I constantly doubt myself regarding the “ic”-ness of my responses. I like to believe that I am doing rather well, but I am not confident, no. ]

Are you confident in your writing? YES / NO. [ it took me a long time to develop my style; while I always struggle to believe in my portrayal I am quite confident in my writing as such. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea but in general? I am proud of it. ]

Are you a sensitive person? YES / NO. / SORTA.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal? — Well, yes. As long as it is the constructive kind. I love receiving feedback, may it be negative or positive. I will most likely try to discuss criticism with you; aka if you (i.e) tell me that Pearl shouldn’t have (C)PTSD, I will deliver canon proof & state my reasoning for my decision to implement it in my canon, etc. What I will not do is tolerate character hate or unreasonable hate towards my writing. Be assured that I will never headcanon something that has no solid footing in canon.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character? — ABSOLUTELY. Send me random hc / meta asks, I beg you.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why? — sure. As stated above, I will probably discuss stuff with you. The chance of me dropping a headcanon however are rather low.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it? — Hm... it depends on what they don’t like. If it’s my writing, well, why are you following me to begin with?? If it is my take on things... well again, why are you following me? I stated in my rules what you should expect & that I will not water down specific aspects of a complex character. Disliking my portrayal is fine since I know that my kind of writing / analysis isn’t necessarily everyone’s tea but... again, why would you keep following me?

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it? — um. Not... well? While I will never excuse my muse’s actions, I dislike groundless bashing. In regard to Pearl... well. As stated above, I expected backlash the second I created this blog. Pearl is one of those characters the fandom either loves or hates; her canon relationship to Rose was branded toxic by a ton of people, people call her uncaring, salty, insane & straight up manic, she seemingly has no redeeming qualities, she is a bitch, too perfect (LOL) or arrogant & apparently has no character? I love it when people say stuff like that because... did we watch the same show? Is there a version of SU I don’t know? Please tell me, I wanna see it for myself! Some hot takes in this fandom are atrocious & make me want to commit a crime.

-- but I digress. I have spent too much time in her tag in 2014 + & I have seen quite the fights over the most ridiculous things; Pearl, in particular, got quite the flack for stuff that eventually got resolved in season 5 [which, again, was way too late but well]. In the end, clowns will be clowns, no matter what you do. I just don’t get why you would follow someone if you hate their character to begin with.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors? — yes, but please don’t be rude about it. I am German, English is my second language. I am currently learning Swedish / improving my Swedish so mistakes can always happen. Additionally, I am someone who posts her replies in the middle of the night & while I proofread a lot & most likely fix posts after I posted ‘em, some mistakes can still slip through.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun? — ... I like to believe I am but I know that I am overly passionate & I can come off as too strong or too fierce sometimes. I can be too much, I can be too excentric (I’m a Scorpio, Karen); I have strong opinions in regard to my characters & I will not hold them back. I criticise shows mercilessly & I will plough through canon as much as I please. Stans & I usually don’t get along. HOWEVER, I am a meme. I love lame jokes, I am awkward, & sometimes very, very insecure. In the end, I just wanna talk about my favourite characters & develop sth wonderful. I keysmash unironically, I use old memes unironically. I mean I have been writing for ten + years & I am about to smooth sail post the 24 age border aka I will turn 25 soon which renders me old according to tumblr standards. I am just here to have fun before the staff comes to lock my account down due to my status as an rp-senior. -- yeah... that is the kind of stupid ass humor I mean. I digress but... please, I am an awkward, rambling mess, just hit me up via dms & you will see what I mean.

#[[ this took me way too long honestly but I finally did it. If you find some spelling or grammar errors keep 'em. I got tired #njfuwefhe but yeah if you need some blog data?? This is prob your best bet ]]#ooc. 𝗮 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗻𝗮𝗶𝗹 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱.

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resi4skz · 1 year ago

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From Brush to Heart (a bang chan fanfic) CHAPTER 6

Pairings: Bang Chan/Rebecca(OC), Han/Luna(OC) Genre: Romcom

As I'm making my evening coffee, I hear a scream coming from Luna's room. I sprint towards her room and knock. "Luna? Everything alright?" I hear no answer. "I'm coming in." I turn the door knob and swing the door open. The scene before me, I wish I had never opened the door.

Luna is standing over what looks like a piece of pickle on the floor. "I dropped my pickle," she pouts.

"Seriously?" I ask, in disbelief.

"I was looking forward to it all day!" She exclaims, still pouting.

"Luna," I sigh, pinching my nose bridge. "You do know there are more in the fridge." I see her eyes light up and excitedly skips past me on the way to the kitchen, to fetch more pickles I assume. I watch her open the fridge and pick the pickle jar. "Aigoo, uri Luna pikeul joh-ah?"

"Is that a question or a statement?" She asks, biting a pickle.

"It's a pickle."

She blinks before rolling her eyes at me. "Oh, very funny." She pokes her tongue at me before taking another bite of her pickle. Grinning, I walk towards the coffee machine and grab the hot steaming latte, taking a sip. I hum in response. "How can you drink that right now? It's almost 7PM."

"How can you eat that," I point to the pickle in her hand, "right now?"

"Touché."

I go back to drinking my latte while she goes back in her room and I sit out in the patio, enjoying the weather. It was starting to get warmer. The moment the sun goes down, the air gets cooler and it's my favorite thing ever. I watch the people walking, cars zooming by and the smell of summer starting. Opening the camera app on my phone, I angle my hand with the cup of coffee, I snap a picture and sent it to th group chat.

Immediately, the messages start coming. Do these guys ever work?

F: wow

Hy: send me some!

H: noona, invite us over for coffee

Invite them over? What?

R: its a latte

I: even better! although i like mine black

R: as some of you do. i just dont understand how you can drink it so bitter, i can never do it

F: it's all in the taste, really. also, noona your hands are pretty~

Hy: omo! They are! What products do you use?

R: hand moisturizers and lots of hand lotions. and the most important part, exfoliation

Hy: wow. No wonder your skin is glowing every time we see you

My fingers freezes. They talk about me? What? Since when did Stray Kids talk about me? What planet do I live in to be a topic they talk about?

R: thanks?

H: lol dont be alarmed. we've just never seen someone with clear skin like channie hyung.

R: oh.

F: its a good thing! it just means you take care of your skin better than us

C: guys, can we focus on work? there's a lot we need to get done

Damn. Strict leader coming in hot. I wonder if they get to eat at all with their hectic schedule. Putting my phone down, I sip on the latte and exhale feeling the warm breeze. I hear a whistle behind me. "That's some view."

"Yup." I look at the sky and smile. "It's so pretty." It reminded me of the time when I would practice dancing with a huge window with the sky just like this. Small clouds and the sun setting creating the golden hour. The most beautiful thing ever that last a few minutes.

"You miss it, don't you?"

I turn my head at her. "What?"

"Dancing. You miss it, don't you?" She asks again.

I look up at the sky again. "Sometimes. But then I see where I'm at and...I'm happy."

"Oh?" She says. "And it doesn't have to do with a certain blondie?"

I shake my head, chuckling to myself. "Not this again."

"So that's a no?" She asks as she puts her feet up on the patio furniture.

"You're right," I agree and watch as her eyes light up. "I'm secretly dating the leader of Stray kids." I try to keep a straight face.

She gasps. "Really?"

"Get your mind out of delusional world." I give her a small smile as her smile fades and I go back inside, to my room. My phone in my hands chimes again. The group chat again? Clicking it open, it's a voice note from Han? When I press it, a melody plays with piano notes and some beats? Instantly, Han messages back.

H: whoops. Wrong chat

B: way to go, pabo

C: han....

I play it again. Hmm, it's missing something.

R: the rhythm is all wrong and the piano keys are the wrong ones.

C: wait, you know music?

Hy: wah, that's so cool!

H: noona, that was unexpected

R: i uh....

Do I tell them? Should I tell them? Could I tell them? A lot of questions run through my mind.

R: i know a bit about music as I used to dance and sing

And I wish I hadn't said it. They bombard me with questions.

B: wait wait.....WAIT

H: omg how when what where

Hy: since when?!?!?

F: noona?! You dance?!

S: sing for us!

I: i wanna see the dance

R: GUYS. I quit that a long time ago its in the past.

And then it goes quiet which I assumed Chan probably scolded them for not doing their work. I giggle at the mental image. I decide to head to bed early tonight so I start my bed time routine. For the next hour, I focused on pampering myself and scrubbed my skin clean. After I was finally in my pjs and ready to settle in bed, my phone screen lights up. Sighing, I pick it up knowing it's the boys again but it's a message from Chan. I click it open

C: hey i have a question

R: okay?

C: do you know skincare by any chance?

R: who's asking?

C: me, no matter how many types of hand creams i use, my hands always feel dry after

R: if you specifically use only hand creams, some of them have a chemical that makes you skin dry out really fast after. I suggest you try a hand lotion with vitamin E and aloe, not only will it soothe your skin it will also help you not having to reapply it since lotions are more long lasting

C: wow, you really know your stuff. Thanks becca ;)

Was the wink necessary? Ugh, now I can't stop picturing him winking.

R: you're welcome. let me know how it goes!

I put my phone on charge and get under my blankets. It doesn't take me long to fall asleep.

----------------------------------------------------------------

The next few weeks go smoothly. The boys get the green light for their first concert in Seoul. And everything gets hectic because the boys start practicing the setlist for the concert. I don't get that much work a week before the concert since the boys are usually practicing or resting. I really hope everything goes smoothly for them.

"Hey, when's the concert?" Luna asks, munching on potato chips while watching TV.

"In a week," I reply, browsing on my phone.

"So, still no date from the blondie?"

I sigh. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" She just shrugs her shoulders and I roll my eyes before going back to phone. "You seriously need a hobby."

"And you need to get lai-hey!" I cut her words short by grabbing her bags of chips. She pouts and I grin as I pop a chip in my mouth.

The day goes by. And before I know it, it's the day of the concert. Surprisingly, everyone is very calm which has made me calm. I'm applying the last touchups on Chan's hair before they all have to go and make their entry. "Nervous?" I ask, noticing him clenching his hands as I reapply lipstick on his lips.

"A bit," he nervously laughs.

"Don't worry," I smile. "You'll do great."

"Yeah?" He asks, looking up at me making me stop dead in my tracks. God, he's gorgeous. My heart suddenly picks up its pace as I look down on his lips. The plump lips that I've thought of many times. Snapping out of my thoughts, I move back.

"You're done."

"Thanks," he smiles before getting up to go get mic checked.

I sit down on the same chair he was sitting. Goodness. Does he always have this effect on others as well?

An hour goes by, the guys come back to get their makeup retouched and they're gone again. Sheesh, the life of an idol isn't easy. Thankfully, I could watch them perform from backstage and honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. They were all giving it their all. From the leader to the youngest, they all had their own aura on stage. And it was a sight to see, espeically if you're one with the crowd in front of them. But being backstage was a whole another level.

----------------------------------------------------------------

"Good job, everyone!" Eun Ji says. The concert had just finished. I picked up my bag and grab my jacket, eyeing the boys also packing up. All I wanted to do was to change into my gym attire and workout till I couldn't stand. So without saying anything, I walk out straight to the company's gym on the 2nd floor.

Once inside, I change into the appropriate clothing in the bathroom. I do the basic stretches before I start with light cardio. As I'm doing the last arm stretches, I hear the door opening and see Changbin, Han and Chan walk in. There were a few people already working out, plus they wouldn't recognize me since I was wearing a face mask and my hair was up.

After the light cardio, I work on my legs and chest exercises. I hear Han and Changbin laughing and being themselves as I do my abs workout. As I walk towards the weights, Han approaches me. "Chogiyo noona, namjachingu isseyeo?"

I look at him, dumbfounded. Do they not recognize me? "Yah yah, geumanhae." Changbin says from across the room. "Stop going up to girls and asking them weird questions." I almost want to laugh when Han shrugs his shoulders in defeat and walks back to the duo.

I eye Chan on the treadmill walking with his earbuds in. In a black tanktop. Damn. Shaking my head, I focus on the squats. "But she looks so familiar. Like I know her." I hear Han from across the room.

"From where? We barely get anything done outside our work." This time it was Changbin.

"No, like the way she was walking over like I know her." Okay. This was getting ridiculous. I finished my set and start my end stretches when Han starts walming over, smiling brightly. "I know who she is!"

"Yah, geumanhae!" Chan exclaims as he tries to grab Han but fails. I watch as Han strides over till he's standing in front of me.

"Becca noona!" Han exclaims and I could only blink. "It's you, right?"

For the next 10 seconds, it goes quiet. The three of them looking at me for an answer. I remove my mask and smile. "Hi, guys." Changbin's eyes go wide while Han jumps up and down excitedly. Chan on the other hand, just stares at me like he's seeing me in a new light.

"I knew it! Didn't I say I knew her?" Han, still jumping up and down gets me wondering who gave him coffee before coming here.

"Han, calm down," I say but it doesn't seem to work so I go with another route. "Hannie! Stop!" That seems to make him stop jumping.

"You called me, Hannie," Han smiles.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't know what else to make you stop jumping," I reply. I glance at Chan who's still staring at me which is starting to make me a bit uncomfortable.

"Don't be sorry. You call me that from now on."

I giggle. "Okay, if you say so." I look at Changbin. "Working on arms today?"

"Uh, yes. How long have you been working out for?" Changbin asks.

"For a little over a year now." I reply.

"Wow. For a year, you have a good physique," Changbin praises. "Right, hyung?"

All eyes now on Chan who looks at all of us and nods. "Yeah."

"Thanks," I glance at the clock. "Oh shoot. Guys, I have to go. I promised my friend to meet up for dinner." I pick up my water bottle and phone and start walking out before a hand stops me. When I look up, it's Chan.

"Do you usually go to the gym at this time?"

"I try to workout as much as I can, atleast 5-6 times a week. Why do you ask?" I ask.

He bites his thumb and rubs the back of his head. "Would you maybe want to workout with the three of us next time?"

I'm taken a back by his sudden question. Do I agree? Do I refuse? "Uhhh, wouldn't that look suspicious for you guys? Being idols and all."

He chuckles, dimples and all. I swear his laughter is the most refreshing thing to hear. "No. It's quite alright since we work together anyway."

"Oh, well in that case....."

"Sweet. See you then," Chan smiles, winking at me.

Good lord, this man doesn't know what he does to everyone, including my heart.

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Korean words:

Uri Luna pikeul joh-ah = you like pickles, Luna? Pabo = stupid/idiot Chogio noona namjachingu isseyeo = do you have a gf? Geumanhae = stop it

Text between them goes as:

R = rebecca C = chan B = binnie Hy = hyunjin H = han F = felix S = seungmin I = I.N. Lk = leeknow L = luna

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5

#bang chan fanfic #bang chan #chris bang #christopher bang #stray kids bang chan #stray kids

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vetoing-clocks · 6 years ago

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Decepticon!Hot Rod Anniversary Q&A

Yes! It happened! On November 13th, 2018, I posted a vignette on Ao3 based on the idea “What if Hot Rod had become a Decepticon in ‘Autocracy’ (and dated Deadlock)?”

365 days and 44,8k words later, the deceptirod AU is still going and I still have plans and ideas for it.

It’s been a huge year for me. I learned a lot as a writer. I achieved some things in my professional path. I made friends in the fandom and got some loyal readers.

I wish I’d noticed sooner that the anniversary was coming up, I would have had something written for today. Since that couldn’t be, I want to thank everyone that sent questions for this hastily put together q&a. I hope you enjoy this glimpse into this little universe I’ve been building.

Everything’s under the cut.

As usual, thank you for reading these fics. This series wouldn’t have gone beyond that first oneshot without the interest and support of all of you.

Anon: So it’s implied events pan out the same as they do when Roddy steals the matrix for the Autobots. Have you ever thought about what happens after? Would Deadlock/Drift’s arc have still happened?

Fun fact: I’ve got this whole AU planned up to the point in which “Transformers: Lost Light” ended. Saying more would be a spoiler.

@kyrinthewarrior: How did you come up with the idea of Thunderbird and Doctor?

Last year I was writing a canon divergent TFP fic (that’s been on hiatus for over a year, I’m so sorry) in which Starscream realized that he’d never, ever win and decided to become neutral. One of the plot points in it was that Starscream accidentally inspired the Vehicons to start a liberation movement, which included taking names and picking the pronouns they felt fit each one best. Doctor is a character from there, but the name’s different in that fic (hasn’t shown up yet in that fic, actually). I didn’t see any reason to invent a new character to be the medic in Pache when I could just grab one that already existed.

Thunderbird was, like every TF OC I make, an accident. I needed a character with information that could interact with Hot Rod and tell him the things he had no way of finding out on his own (the Great Carrot knows I love Rod, but he’s not in charge of anything that would give him access to privileged information). Now, we have plenty of cold and serious calculating characters, so I decided to write someone that would purposefully try to get everyone to think he’s harmless and good. Someone you’d want to be friends with and would never ever suspect of having a mental file in which he keeps every sign of weakness you’ve displayed around them and who would sell you to Satan for a corn chip if they felt the corn chip was more important than you. Then I went to my list of potential OC names, picked the one I liked best, and Thunderbird was born. The heelys, though, are there because I find them funny (this AU, like many things I do, runs on a delicate balance of things that I love to read, things I find fascinating to explore, and things that appeal to my sense of humor).

@marsreds: Favorite line you've published?

“I’m sorry, but I love you.”

@marsreds: Favorite line you've written?

Oof, this is hard, but I’m gonna go with, “Because something has to matter. Because something has to be done. Because there’s nothing else I can do.”

Although I’m also terribly fond of Doctor’s lines about why Medicine’s patron is Adaptus, not Primus. I have a whole mental essay about why Primus being Medicine’s patron doesn’t work, and I’m turning it into a fic one day.

@marsreds: What do you look forward most to writing?

In general, any bit that foreshadows unwritten fics, or any bit that’s a callback to a previus story (especially when it’s a fic I haven posted yet). Basically, bits that should be rewarding to anyone that decides to re-read the series.

@marsreds: What even set you off to make this au in the first place?

We were on Discord and someone started talking about how easily Hot Rod could have become a Decepticon. We started talking about how some things would have gone differently, but also how we could keep the canon timeline pretty much the same, and it led to “Hot Rod realizes how messed up their faction has become, so he steals the Matrix anyway and gets shot.” That’s when a line started forming in my mind and I had to write it. 90 minutes later, “The cold” had been written, and from there I had to keep playing in the sandbox. There was too much to explore.

@marsreds: Can you believe that we didn't know each other when you published the first installment of this?

Wait, we didn’t????????? Didn’t you link me to the server where this whole thing started?

Huh. Wow. You’ve been so present throughout all the plotting that I guess I can’t picture this without you at the beginning.

@marsreds: What's something that surprised you while you were writing it?

How much it grew. Not as a plotline, but as a world. This was supposed to be an exploration of the progressive distortion of the Decepticon ideal disguised as a hotlock slowburn. I’d maybe throw in one or two OCs from “Such a big deal, though” to make the world seem more populated and believable. Then I was writing “Crash and burn” and I realized I couldn’t really talk about the Decepticons without the Decepticons, but I didn’t know enough about canon characters to fill the world with recognizable names, which forced me to create my own characters. They were supposed to be background characters, show up for a couple scenes, fulfill their roles and disappear forever, and instead they had personalities, alt-modes, and whole stories inside my mind that I can only hint at. It went from feeling like my little AU fanfic to my own alternate timeline, like maybe Brainstorm’s briefcase made it exist and it’s as “real” as everything that’s been published and has aired throughout the years.

Connected to that, I’ve also been surprised by the reaction to this bigger world. I’ve seen someone include Doctor and Thunderbird in their own AU. You declared Crystal Wing your favorite and get super protective of him. I’ve been asked what Thunderbird looks like, and everyone seems fascinated by him. It makes it all feel more and more like its own canon timeline that simply hasn’t been recognized by Hasbro, and that makes me happy.

@marsreds: Something you would've done differently?

Not really? Nothing that can’t be edited, like the writing in “Alive”, or the bits I’ll eventually add to “Crash and burn” and “Nightlight”.

@marsreds: How do you come up with names for things?

For characters, I mostly use rollercoasters. I went on Wikipedia one day, found a list of rollercoasters, and wrote down all the names that sounded like they could be used for OCs. Some have been given by others and one is a very unsubtle historical reference that made me feel embarrassed by how shameless it was (there’s a while until you see that name, though).

For places, I think of what happens in the fic in which they’re first named. Then I think of something associated to the events, or to the description of the planet, and then I pick a word that alludes to said events/description and which amuses me. Basically, every planet name is a joke/reference/unsubtle-nod-to-the-plot. All of them. Not very funny jokes, sure, but definitely things that made me feel very clever.

@marsreds: Am i a good editor and do i actually contribute to the process or are you just humoring me?

Mars, if you didn’t contribute to the process I could just ignore you. When I disagree with your suggestions, I tell you so. When your suggestions make me cry inside but I agree they’re good, I follow them. When your suggestions add to the story, I gladly include them. You’re stuck as my editor until you get sick of me.

@marsreds: Are hotlock gonna be invited to the thunderdice wedding?

Hot Rod and Deadlock won’t be invited to the thunderdice wedding.

But if there was any way for Hot Rod and Deadlock to be invited, they’d be invited by the groom. The bride doesn’t want to see Deadlock ever again.

@marsreds: If you had to make a thesis statement for this au, what would it be?

Kindness. That might sound odd in what’s mostly been a slow burn set during a war, but kindness is what everything is built on here. Hot Rod cares about people, cares even when it might get him killed, because somebody has to. Back in Nyon, it was him and the other gutter mechs looking after each other. In “Crash and burn”, his kindness is what saved him, the fact that others remembered what he’d done for them. His kindness is what makes him stand out to Deadlock. It’s his kindness that makes him start doubting the cause and eventually steal the Matrix.

But it’s not only him. Deadlock doesn’t know how to be kind, but he can follow Hot Rod’s lead, follow his example until he can perform kindness on his own. Doctor is in Medicine for selfish reasons, but still goes and puts medgrade in Hot Rod’s hands when he looks like shit, and forces Thunderbird to take care of himself despite knowing he’s a bastard. Thunderbird cares only about himself and his best friend, but he doesn’t see any reason to be rude to people that might be dead the next day.

Kindness is not a weakness and there’s no mold for it. Kindness doesn’t mean never fighting, or never doing anything bad. It just means that, if there’s a good thing you can do, a good thing you know you can do, and there’s no reason not to do it, you should do it. It may never be repaid or it might save your life. You put some good in the world because somebody has to do it. And maybe in the real world kindness won’t be rewarded as it should, but this is fiction, and I’m allowed to write a world in which kindness is valued, even during something as terrible as a war, because it’s a promise, it’s hope, it’s something to hold on to and to remind you that things aren’t always bad.

The thesis is: Hot Rod was kind, and that was the right course of action.

@marsreds: What would be this au's theme song?

Be More Kind - Frank Turner

@marsreds: What's deadlock's favourite thing about hot rod? and hot rod's about deadlock?

Deadlock likes that Hot Rod lets him bite him.

Just kidding. Can I say kindness again? But yeah. The fact that Hot Rod cares for everyone. Deadlock came from the streets and was used to nobody giving a damn about him. He joined the Decepticons and got used to being valued for being a fighter. Enter Hot Rod, who values everyone no matter their rank, simply because they’re on his faction. The moment Hot Rod knows you’re on his side, you become one of his people. He’ll take care of you. To Deadlock, Hot Rod is a shelter.

As for Hot Rod? He likes how reliable Deadlock is. He likes that Deadlock seems to have clear loyalties and principles and he sticks to them. If Deadlock says he’s going to follow you until the end of the universe, you can be sure he will. If Deadlock decides to help you, he’ll be there no matter what. If Deadlock has decided that something is wrong, then you can be sure he won’t be looking for loopholes that allow him to do it anyway. He likes that Deadlock is there for him and will always be there for him as long as he deserves it. To Hot Rod, Deadlock is a pillar.

@marsreds: Objectively, is deadlock considered hot in this universe? (i know hot rod's considered attractive but that's just his personality)

This one technically goes against my “How do I interact with my fiction” rules, because it refers to a detail I’m probably never showing/implying in the text.

What I’m saying is: you are free to ignore this answer if you don’t like it.

It amuses me to think Deadlock is average, physically speaking. People like his face when he’s not doing the murdercat expression, but he’s almost always doing the murdercat expression and has the social skills of a toothpick.

It also amuses me to think that the Autobots think he looks edgy. It’s the bad boy appeal. Hot Rod would find that hilarious.

@marsreds: What do you like the most about their relationship that is present in this au but not in canon(ish) iterations of these characters?

I wrote three very salty paragraphs in reply to this and proceeded to delete them. Nobody needs that. To be brief, what I like about their relationship here is that their friendship means something to them. Even if this series ended with Hot Rod marrying Thunderbird and Deadlock marrying Doctor, you’d know for sure that there’s so much trust, companionship and love (and I don’t mean romantic love) between them that they’d be in each other’s lives as best friends until one of them died.

@squireofgeekdom: Any songs you associate with any of your OCs?

None yet, surprisingly?

Anon: What sort of key points do you keep in mind to keep track of where characters should be emotionally/in their arc when you're writing stories set at very different points in time, and not necessarily writing them in linear order? It's all very much coherent character/relationship arcs and I'm just very impressed - and the cohesiveness overall. Are there themes that you try to keep consistent across stories to build that?

Pre-Matrix stealing I have a clear idea of how things progress relating to key events, because it’s all very linear. The first relevant change in the relationship happens in “Triage” (still unwritten, sorry), so I know that any ideas for fics that happen before that will have to fit a certain pattern. The next big change is “Nightlight”, because it’s when the mutual pining starts. Before that, it’s only Hot Rod being invested in their friendship. Then it’s only mutual pining until “Declaration...”, and from then on things are mostly stable until “Home” (also unwritten, sorry again).

The hotlock dynamic progresses with their feelings. The only important thing I have to keep in mind is that they must be friends first and love interests second. If I can’t believe that these two genuinely like each other, then it’s time for a re-write. Cybertronians have long lives, which means their friendship must deepen as time passes, and so I can have them noticing or knowing more about each other the later in the timeline a fic is set.

Relating to OCs, there are key elements that will never ever change and which form the base of the interactions. For example, Doctor’s only goal in life is to survive; related to that, Doctor is unimpressed by, but extremely wary of, Thunderbird, despises Deadlock (I’m not talking funny rivalry, I’m talking a feeling that borders on disgust, of finding a person that so absolutely opposes the core of your being that you daydream of beating their face to a pulp and leaving them out for the wolves), and is fond of Hot Rod despite being certain he’ll get himself killed one day. Thunderbird likes to know things for the sake of knowing things and thinks life is one big cosmic joke and that taking it seriously is a mistake; because of that, he’s curious about Hot Rod and really wants to know what will become of him, is reluctanctly fascinated by Doctor, and the only person he loves besides himself is Crystal Wing. Crystal Wing is so slow that he knows he has to use his time wisely, so he’s always in a good mood (it takes too long to overcome a negative emotion), likes everyone immediately (it’s faster to dislike someone than learn to like them), and always says exactly what he means without adornments or metaphors.

As for plotting, I keep notes of key events and the rest is fluid. I know what’s going to happen in “Home”, so I’m free to foreshadow it when I get the chance. I know what happened in “Triage”, so I can write callbacks if I feel they fit the story.

About themes... There are a lot of things this AU is about, but off the top of my head I can mention:

Kindness

Making one (1) person the key to your emotional development is fucked up

Who we are and who we become can’t be traced back to one moment. We’re all the result of thousands of interactions and events that pile up and which we choose to see in a certain way to justify the person we are or want to be

Friendship!

Everything I write must be in accordance to these ideas. Themes and cohesiveness go before everything else, even my own ego and need for approval. Surprising my audience is not as important as feeling I respected the characters and the story.

@choomchoom: Is Hot Rod’s history as an insurgency leader in Nyon commonly known amongst the Decepticons? If not, how did Deadlock find out?

Yes and no. This might count as a spoiler? Stop reading here if you don’t want to know absolutely anything about fics that I’ll write someday.

When Hot Rod arrived, his past was used as propaganda. “Look at the mech we brought in. Someone willing to do whatever it takes in the fight against the Autobots.” Anyone who was around high command or near the area when Hot Rod joined the Decepticons knows his past. After that, it was part of the information in the starter pack. After a while, it wasn’t relevant anymore, and so newer recruits don’t know about his past and might have only heard about this crazy mech that drags injured soldiers out of the battlefield.

@choomchoom: Also if no one has asked about music yet I would love some song recs to cry and swoon to the next time you post an update.

I have a playlist that’s 95% somewhat serious and/or shippy songs (the remaining 5% is “Despacito” and I have no regrets).

Highlights from it include:

The already linked “Be More Kind”, which is this AU’s thesis

The hotlock theme is Los Tres’ “Amor Violento” (loose translation of relevant lyrics: “I’ll spend my whole life in buying yours [...] Love will have to wait for a good while to rest from you and I [...] Because a violent love blinded us / A violent love fulminated us”)

For the post-Matrix stealing to the point at which the war ends, the song is Silversun Pickups’ “Growing Old Is Getting Old”. It also fits for that point at which you realize that your faction has strayed from its original vision

For the Decepticons in the beginning, Los Prisioneros’ “El Baile De Los Que Sobran” (”Join the dance of the left overs / Nobody’s going to miss us / Nobody truly wanted to help us / When we were small we were told / ‘Make studying your game’ / Men are brothers and must work together [...] And it wasn’t so true / Because in the end those games were for others / That ended up with laurels and a future / And left my friends kicking rocks”)

A bit of a post-Nyon mood: Coldplay’s “42″

#fic: A running gag about Deadlock's oral fixation #Hotlock

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19possums-blog · 6 years ago

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On tianshan relationship and their fandom, i guess ?

hello there @nightfayre !! Im the 5asks anon lol (the one abt the last chapter of tianshan). I wanted to thank you for your answer and continue to rant in your askbox but i figured it was so long that mb it would crash ur box lmao, so I... kind of created a blog..... hm. well theres no bad reasons to create an account is there lol ?? (also is there no way to send a long ask ?? why is it so limited :(( )

So once again thank you for anwser, and what an answer ! You raised many points i didnt think about and that was very interesting. I knew i would be glad to hear your thoughts ! the rest under a read more coz i think its going to be looong lol

(( To do a sort of disclaimer : I despise fandom discourse and im more of the mentality “let ppl enjoy what they want as long as it dont hurt real life ppl”, and “dont like dont interact”. So everything im going to say is not an attack against anyone, but just a way of prolonging a manhwa that i like. Most of all, i want to emphasize that at the end of the day, its just a manhwa : it doesnt justify being mean or aggressive towards other real life ppl. If you find yourself raging while reading fandom wank, just stop reading, block, and go outside a little. My way of enjoying the manhwa is to be analytical, to criticize (positively and negatively) and to look at the material source as well as the fandom in itself ; if its (understandably lol) not your definition of fun, this post may not be for you !))

Ur totally right in saying that the hardest thing is separate morality, reality and fiction. I hope my asks didn't come across as a 'u shouldnt like tianshan bc its not morally good'. There is a lot of puritan push back on tumblr lately, and im totally against it. Everyone is free to like/ship what they want ; reading only ‘morally good’ literature wont prevent you to become a nasty person - i would argue itd be the exact opposite, as your spirit wont be trained to think critically or to evaluate a situation (and every situations is always grey) by your own means. Also, its important to separate fantasies/what you like to read and who you are/what you do. To be embarrassingly honest, and like many people, one of my sexual fantasy is rape ; but in my real life, im in a queer anarchist collective that actively fights against rape culture and defends rape victims. That is why i dont have a problem with SheLI/Mo shippers (or even HeCheng/SheLi shippers) even if its not my cup of tea, but i would have a problem if in real life (irl) ppl would say to irl Mo that irl SL is good for him (or if they wouldnt find it wrong that a irl 30yo Cheng is involved wt an irl 15yo Li). I digress.

But then again this confusion about fiction/reality/morality is at the core of the tianshan fandom -and many fandoms. I dont know about you, but i grossly see 3 types of ‘trends’ depending on how ppl interact with the source material :

1.The ones who think you cant like something while being critical of it. I love 19 days but I think there are flaws in it, beyond tianshan dynamic (like how OX handles the transition between funny and dramatic moments –I think its badly done). It doesn’t mean I personally hate OX and wish harm to their family oc. Worse than this, the ones who, because they dont like certain things in 19 days, feel free to harass OX on their social media. Here its a confusion between fiction and reality and a lack of critical thinking.

2. the ones that loves Tianshan because they think it fits the trope “Dark, handsome, tortured violent boy who is violent towards fragile, sweet, pure cute boy because he loves him” and the typically associated trope “the pure boy will change the violent boy by the pureness of his heart”. Aka the most common yaoi trope. Again, if it pleases people to see Tianshan like this, good for them and i hope they have a nice time reading 19 days. Lets face it, I love really bad yaoi and books. Its just not how i see tianshan at all, but to each their own. I just have a problem when these ppl insist that its an ok behavior to have in real life and say things like “possessiveness is a proof of love” uncritically (hint : it isnt). For me, its the difference between enjoying fast food (thats okay), and wanting to force everyone to eat fast food and to find it pleasurable (not okay).

3. the ones that think what you like in literature defines who you are, and so in order to be a “good person” you have to only like “morally good litterature” -there are the ones I personally find the more interesting bc they can ask good questions. But alas, in most cases its just puritanism badly disguised and currently they are in all fandoms. Lets not delve into the issue of this statement : what is ‘morally good’ ? who are in the authority to proclaim what is good ? how can you recognize what is ‘morally good’ if you dont see what is ‘morally not good’ ? is it literature’s responsibility to educate its audience ? do literature have to point out “watch out audience what just happened is not okay” as if we were brainless children ? whats more important : what you like reading or what you do irl ? .... Okay i totally delve into this lmao. Here its a confusion between fiction and morality and a rejection of critical thinking : we could say its like when the Catholics prohibited women from reading bc it would pervert them and think of the children).

Returning to the specifics of what we've been talking about : so in this last case, you (generic ‘you’) think that you are a good person ; so you have to read morally good literature. So in this case, fandom isnt just a harmless hobby, but a proof of how you are morally good, imagine the stakes ! But alas, you happen to like 19 days and most specifically tianshan. You said (@nightfayre ) that you judge Tianshan unhealthy as they are now, and i wholeheartedly agree with you, so im not going to discuss why since you already explained it so well. So, what happens when you like a morally not good ship, but you think liking morally dubious things makes you a bad person ? You bent over backwards to explain that, in fact, this ship is morally good, to protect your integrity. And thats why, in 19days fandom since the last chapter (and its the same thing with every chapter where flaws of HT are revealed!), there are many posts going around “hm, in fact, what He Tian did is good ! i know it can seems like hes a violent asshole who dont respect MGS because he punches him, threatens him, and dont listen to him, but hm.... in fact its because he’s nice...” and then they do mental gymnastics to justify what is, obviously, not morally justifiable. And i find its a pity because, my guy, my buddy, nobody is going to throw you tomatoes if you like a morally dubious character, and also bc nothin is morally good ! everybody does what they think is the best in ‘problematic situations’ ! and thats what make life interesting ! and so, 19 days interesting ! The flaws of HT (and MGS) are what drawn ppl to his character, bc it makes him real, its makes him contradictory, we can project ourselves in him, and we can see a complicated character with awesome latent potential. And yes, treating someone like a territory bc you care about them is a flaw lol. (on this subject : i saw ppl saying that its protectiveness and not possession : if you protect someone like you would protect a territory, then its not a healthy protection. you deal with a human whose agency you must respect, contrary to a territory).

MGS and HT are the product of what happen to them in their early childhood and then their adolescence. Like you said, they grow up in a violent, twisted world, where being emotionally distant is the norm. I would even say that they are expected to conform to the standards of (toxic) masculinity : channel all your emotions into anger, caring is being weak and feminine, prove your worth by your physical strength, be in control in all ur relationship, etc. I would say thats why Mo is so hostile towards HT : HT challenges his masculinity, by seducing him (everyone know that the biggest fear of macho men like HT and Mo is being considered gay -_-) and being stronger than him. Lets face it, Mo has kind of a homophobic issue, like all the boys. Between JY who tells HT its disgusting being told hes handsome by a man (at the beginning of the manhwa, i hope by now he had grown out of it), or Mo who tells HT he isnt happy that a guy is on his bed or who desperately wants to prove his heterosexuality by saying he likes all cute girls to his baldy friend... HT is more nuanced, but at the end, when he ‘seduces’ Mo, its always predatory. He doesnt let himself being vulnerable and he aggressively touches Mo even without his consent. For me, its a way of proving his domination, not his interest (and when i say that, i dont mean that HT is not genuinely interested in Mo -just that his actions dont translate this). ZZX is the only one who seems to have a healthy relationship with his masculinity lol, but then hes the healthy one in all aspects (thats why i dont like his character and am not invested in zhanyi, even if irl i would love to be his friend).

With all that being said, oc HT wont know how to adequately express genuine concern and interest in Mo ! This sort of social interactions is not something you just know, its smth you learn. And in HT and Mo’s cases, nobody was there to teach them -we could even say that ppl in their life made them unlearn caring behaviors. So HT does what he does best : he fights and forces, and is surprised when Mo thinks (obviously) HT is evil. And also, like you said, Mo will never be (at least how he is now) a driving force in their relationships bc he will always run away from bonding with ppl. So here we are, HT being the only driving force in their relationship, the same HT who only knows violence. No wonder that their relationship is like this...

As it is, i feel like tianshan is kind of in an impasse right now. One or the other is going to have to evolve if we want to see their relationships changing. Either HT learns how to care without being violent (seems complicated if Mo doesnt challenges him, bc HT isnt going to realize this without feedback since its how he has always functioned), or, more likely, Mo is going to be honest with him and tell him that his behavior is hurting him. Though more probable, I dont see it happening anytime soon : for one, Mo isnt capable of seeing when he is hurting emotionally and what is hurting him ; and also, bc Mo doesnt know any other language than violence, not unlike HT. I think its smth most of the fandom ignore, how violence is smth that HT and MGS both have in common, and how if HT wasnt violent, MGS certainly wouldnt consider him at all.

Anw im excited to see where OX is going with all this ! Like you said, the forced kiss was pivotal to their relationship, so im kind of hoping it would be the same here ! I just hope they wont... do like usual and just put a funny chapter and ignore this latest development.....

OMG i wrote soo much and there is so much i still want to say.... i think im going to do a second post... sorry about the spam lmao

( @nightfayre : i dont know how this site works yet, is @ you alright ? will it show you my post in your notif or should i send an ask ? bc i want you to see my answer, but i dont want you to feel pressurized to respond or interact or anything !! above all dont feel pressurized, i was sad last night when you wrote ‘im sorry to not answer more quicly’ bc you should answer at your own rhythm or not answer ! your blog is a hobby, not an obligation, so dont feel bad to not do more when yo already do much !! )

#19days #19 days #tianshan

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cgmayra · 6 years ago

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Soler’s Story (Sonic OC Commission) - All Current ROUGH DRAFTS example

This is all writings for @solerwolf21 compiled into a huge post. If you’d like to commission me for your own story, please check out my rules and prices first (We can discuss how much you want to pay depending on how many pages you want the story to be :)b)

This is super long, so please remember that ^^ (This contains several chapters and separate commission purchases.) - and Yes, you can pay again for a continuation of the last story I wrote you. :)b

The Sun’s Redemption

After some minor missions with the Freedom Fighters, Soler was documenting his findings on a recent Eggman attack, recounting the parts and dimensions of the new robot designs him and the other fighters found for Tails and Rotor to look into later. He liked being useful like this, and Tails and Rotor seemed genuinely thankful for keeping a record like this.

Soler, while fiddling with the documents, pushed his quills back and pulled the lower ones down to their natural curl upwards. It was a fluid movement, the white of his fur with the peach oval and white tuff that barely looped his shoulders shimmered slightly in the low lighting of the base…

His deep blue streaks over his quills glistened lightly as he passed the hallway lights into the office rooms of the secret base, deep in the brush of nature, and away from Eggman’s ever-searching eye.

The paper flipped over his white gloves with black crossing lines in the center of them, counting the pages to make sure he had everything from the rest of his team that were with him during the mission. His emerald green eyes scanned the documents until satisfied with what was written upon them.

The tapping of his crimson shoes with the same x-marked pattern overlapping each other rang with low toned echoes against the hard floor.

While he was about to finish setting the piles of notes and observations onto a nearby desk, he heard a loud and disapproving whine that turned his ears towards the commotion.

‘Huh?’ he thought to himself as he looked to see Amy pestering Sonic again.

“You never have any time for me!” she complained, shoving her arms straight down and closing her eyes as she trailed behind him. “Can’t we… I don’t know, have a picnic or something?” she shrugged, a pleading look in her eyes. “I just miss you… you’ve been working a lot lately and-” Soler noticed Sonic was preoccupied with other things, keeping her mostly taking to his back. She reached for a back quill of his, a longing look in her sorrowful eyes before he turned around.

“Not now Amy,” he stated, but it wasn’t harsh or dismissive in the least bit. Mostly, he was just busy, looking over at his communication watch and fanning some other people away from trying to speak with him further as well. “Maybe we can all hang out other time.” he didn’t even look up to acknowledge her, so whatever he was doing, it must have been pretty important.

Amy took a few steps after him, her hand still reaching before stopping and holding her hands close to her chest.

“...Maybe…” was she questioning him or agreeing to his statement? Soler couldn’t tell.

Seeing her face though… he felt something in his heart go out to the girl.

It made him a little mad, to say the least.

He wandered over, trying to not draw too much attention to himself and looked off after Sonic, standing next to Amy. “...He’s probably just protecting you.” He stated, “Doesn’t want…” he stopped himself, looking down and seeming forlorned now. “To cause you any pain.” Soler’s body froze up, little protruding icicles pierced slowly against his skin. It was aggravating, to say the least. Here’s someone who cares so much about Sonic, and yet, he doesn’t know what he has. No… it’s opposite. Amy doesn’t realize how much danger she places herself in… just because he exists.

‘Existence… So many lives could be spared if just certain people didn’t exist.’ He frowned inwardly for a moment before turning his attention back to Amy, giving her a plucky smile. “He’ll be okay. It’s you he’s probably worried about.”

“Huh?” Amy tilted her head, looking confused on his thought process. “Soler?” she shifted her body and came him a cute pout, placing her hands on her hips and leaning forward in authority. “I’m your senior fighter, sir! What makes you think I can’t take care of myself?”

“Come on, Soler! I’m a big girl now! Can’t you let me run up the hill on my own for a change?”

“Gah..!”

Soler shook his head, blinking his eyes as he stepped back.

‘Was that… it can’t be.’

“Soler?” Amy leaned away, seeming worried her joke may have frightened him. “I-... I didn’t mean to make you jumpy. You alright?”

She leaned her hand up to his head, “You seem a little pale… well, paler than usual, haha!” she kid again, but there was a fear in his eyes as he skittishly moved away from her hand.

“I… I have to go. Sorry.” he quickly looked away, rushing out as Amy hollered after him.

“Soler! Wait!” she took off after him. “What’s going on? What’s his problem anyway?” she pouted, worried she may have hurt his feelings.

Up on a hill near a shady tree while the winds beat against the leaves and the sun still peeked over the grassy plain, hanging on to the horizon’s ledge outside the Freedom Fighter’s base was Soler, sitting under the tree and sighing with a sniff in his nose.

He wasn’t crying, just cold.

His body shivered slightly and warmed himself up with a few rubs on his arms and legs. He didn’t mean to shove his business into Amy’s life… she was her own person, and he usually found her adoration for Sonic sweet. But today he just felt like it could have been…

“Luna!” Soler was much younger now, rushing up the hill as he stumbled a little but held his footing. “Your father’s worried sick about you!”

A beautiful silver-quilled hedgehog with quills that blew gracefully in the wind stood in front of the setting sun, smiling towards it before turning just ever so slightly towards Soler. The smile made him pause in his stride to her, admiring the breathtaking silhouette of the girl. It had taken him a while to own up to his feelings, but now that he had, it was a bit overwhelming to say the least. Her purple dress trailed to the side of her as she moved her blue bangs away from eye.

“And what about you, Soler..?” she giggled, “Are you worried about me too?”

He held the necklace she used to wear, silver with a sphere of black that would light up according to the moon’s glowing phase. It would be out soon… then he could see what the moon looked like. Clouds blocked his vision the last few nights, so the necklace was like holding a miniature moon in his hands. It was her namesake… and because of her, it was his treasure.

She didn’t seem so far when the moon came out. Maybe Amy felt like that too. As long as she could still be around Sonic, it wasn’t so bad…

‘Amy… I’m sorry.’ he gripped his white chest fur… bending down slightly at the pain of guilt that fed into his heart and locked itself away with no windows to let some air in and relieve him of the agony.

Was he just doomed to cause pain and trouble?

“Soler!”

His head flicked up, shocked to hear his name shouted so close to the edge of the Base’s secret camp. “A-Amy?” he turned back, but couldn’t see anything within the heavy forested jungle…

His eyes scanned with a squint that helped him see a little crisper—the fine details of the landscape—but still, no pink dots were popping up.

He was about to get up and search for her, worried she may be in trouble, or most likely get into it. But as he stepped his foot out to get under himself and stand, Amy charged from behind and tackled him. He reflexed and used his training to stiffen his arms out on the ground, keeping him from tumbling over as she laughed and released him, sitting beside him next to the tree.

“Got you! Haha! What are you doing way out here? Admiring the fading sunbeams?” she grinned eagerly, wanting to speak with him as she looked over the sunset… “It’s beautiful.” she commented, “Because it won’t set forever.”

He seemed confused, turning around and tried to hold back any frustration he felt at being spooked. It was… kinda funny, but it really surprised him!

“W-what are you doing here? I could have accidentally fought you off if you hadn’t said anything!” he dusted himself off and sat back down, looking a bit like he wanted to scold her but held it back. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re not hurt.” he sighed, relaxing back and letting the tension leave his body.

“I really surprised you, huh?” she laughed before looking over at the colors in the darkening sky again. “Sonic says the same thing…”

Soler looked away, feeling bad again. “About today... “ he began, scratching the back of his head as he sat more upright, not wanting to slouch. “Pink… I’m sorry about what I said.” he held his hands together out in front of him, loosely, only having the fingers intertwined.

“I wish I wasn’t there. Then I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“What?” Amy turned back to him, not sure what he was getting at. “What are you talking about? I’m happy you’re here.” she gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “I’m not sure what prompted the sudden warning, but I’m sure it was out of kindness.”

He turned away. “Yeah… well… I’m still sorry for disturbing you. You and Sonic… that’s completely different than mine…”

“Your..? Your what?” Amy removed the hand from his shoulder, tilting her head further in her confusion. “Soler… is there something you want to talk about?”

He flinched, “N-not really…” he looked back at the sun, hoping to change the subject. “You said something about the sun’s beauty being so because it fades? What do you mean by that?” He thought fast, a bit interested, but mostly to get her on another topic.

She did just that, starting to ramble. “Hehe! The colors, silly! The sight doesn’t last forever… that’s what makes it so beautiful. You have to be there, in the moment, the fleeting colors spread across the sky and capture your heart and imagination… What’s beautiful is that you treasure it longer because it’s not there all the time.”

He clung to his lunar necklace…

“The sun has to leave so the moon can rise and give a whole new experience to the earth…”

He turned his head away, closing his eyes tightly shut as the pain of his heart’s pricking icicles suddenly turned deadly and twisted into the sides of his heart.

“I know.” His voice wavered a moment, his true feelings coming out. “I know what that means.”

“...Soler?” Amy tenderly turned back, “Ah! Are you hurt!?” she moved in front of him, reaching out to see what he was clutching too.

His eyes opened wide, a new memory resurfacing…

“You’re hurt!”

Luna charged after him, seeing him trying to hide his wound.

“It’s fine.” He tried to gently usher her away, not wanting her to feel bad about his own injury. “It was…” he looked up a moment, seeing her eyes sparkle in their loving care. “...Worth it.” he was taken aback a moment. Never in his lonely life had he seen someone take so much time out of their own life to care about him this much.

“Nonsense! Here, let me dress that for you.” She stubbornly coaxed him down to the ground, getting out some natural medicine made from the surrounding plant life around her home village and began to treat him. He winced back at the pain, biting his jaw into place as he tried to not show it in front of her. He wanted to grin and bear it, but it wasn’t about trying to act cool in front of her. He just didn’t want her to suffer… watching him bleeding.

“You didn’t have to do that…” she commented, fixing him up before tightening the bandages as he held in another painful cry, puffing his cheeks up with air. ‘Mercy…’ he thought to himself. She smiled at his cute attempt to swallow the air back down but knew what it all meant. “But I’m very grateful you did.” she held him in a stare for a moment, but it felt like a long while to him. Looking into her eyes… was like watching a constellation go by…

She turned with a blush, “So is my father-!” she chimed in, clearing her throat at her obvious nerves that spiked as he didn’t look away from her. “A-and my village! We’re all in debt to your sacrifice and-and…”

He shook his head, a softer side coming out of him as his face turned to one of hope.

“As long as you’re alright, that’s all that matters.”

She turned back to him,... a little boldly, she cupped his face and smiled, hiding her face a bit as she dipped her head shyly and let hair slightly cover her weakened features from his kind words. “Thank you…”

She left it at that and scurried away, but his eyes never left hers, shaking at the touch that filled his cheek with a heat he hadn’t experienced before.

At the time, he didn’t mean anything much by it, only that he was happy to be a hero for a day. But after some time… he realized how much those words really meant,... in a moment… like that…

“Soler? You’re shaking!” Amy worriedly moved away. The daydream state he was in broke and he adjusted himself.

“S-sorry!” he kicked back to get himself sitting uprightly again, “I-I’ve been thinking back a lot on someone lately… it’s… it’s not something you need to concern yourself with though… it’s a sad story.” he thought that may sway her away from asking further, but instead, she sat comfortably down and put her head in her two hands, her elbows resting on the sides of her legs which were in the Indian-style position.

“...You’re not backing down… are you?” Soler smiled, he liked to see her this energetic and invested in people’s lives.

Maybe it would be okay… to tell her a thing or two about himself…

“...Her name was…” he choked up a minute, having to swallow. “Luna…”

As his tale went on, Amy began to tear up, hearing about the village and the girl he loved murdered right before his eyes. “It was all because of me. Neo Metal Sonic framed Shadow, murdered Luna to bring out my power through extreme stress and trauma…” he gripped his hands tightly, shaking them in renewed rage. “Now that I can fight, I want to protect those who can’t protect themselves! I want to make sure no one suffers as much as I did… as much as she did… as they all did…” he looked away. “It’s just better if I wasn’t around, you know? They could have lived their lives in gentle bliss. Up against the windy hills… the soft dirt and the clearest skies I’ve ever seen…” he looked up, seeing the daylight fade into the night.

“Oh!” he quickly fumbled to get his necklace, looking at the shape begin to take form and glow in it.

“Look!” he excitedly turned to show Amy, as she covered her mouth at how excited he looked to witness Luna’s pendant light up as the sun disappeared. “It’s just like you said… she would be here if…” he looked up into the sky. “If…” the glow from the pendant radiated the sight of the moon that rose quickly to the sky in front of him.

It was… amazing.

“It’s a Waning Gibbous or shrinking moon.” He explained, gazing at the stars as they began to come to life before his eyes. He was at peace for a moment, but his heart was still breaking from the ice that fell against the cold cave of his heart. “This is the first phase after the Full Moon occurs. It lasts about 7 days, with the Moon's illumination getting smaller each day until becoming a Last Quarter Moon... then it’ll shine at around half it’s normal glow. It rises after sunsets…” he looked at his necklace, his eyes arching back. “I hate that people can’t be happy unless I’m gone…”

“Nooo!!!” Amy leaped up, her eyes pouring out a storm of tears. “Don’t say that! Don’t ever say that!”

“W-woah!” He scooted back a bit, hitting himself against the tree. “What’s wrong?! Why are you crying!?” he freaked out, worried it was his fault somehow.

“Because she loved you so much!” she began to bawl, moving her hands to her eyes in a little bundle of a fist, crying into them. “Whahhha!!! You loved each other so much! I’m so sorry, Soler! But she wouldn’t want you to go away! She was happy with you!” she wiped her tears away quickly, sniffling and trying to compose herself.

“She was… happy…” Soler dipped his head down, “That’s the problem. She could have continued being happy if I never-”

“NOOOO!!!!” she cried harder, making him flinch back and stay silent this time.

‘W-what’s gotten into her?!’ he was a little freaked out, as Amy continued on.

“You gave her something that no one else could! I believe in destiny, and I believe—that no matter what you think—you two were made to find and save each other. Without her, would you have ever really ventured out to learn about your powers? Find Shadow? Us?”

He remained silent, but a slight bit of sunlight melted some of the cold that had formed in his heart.

“You’re like the sun, Soler! That’s what she loved about you!” Amy leaped forward, grabbing his hands.

“Ah!” he was a bit shocked by her boldness, but this was nothing new.

“You warmed their lives! You may not have been able to control your powers very well, but you did whatever you could to provide for them. Life can’t grow without the sun’s energy, Soler! You gave them something that they loved more than anything! You’re the reason they held such happy smiles on their faces! She loved cause you were you and you were there!” With a heavy heart, he starts to think back on the village. Were they happier before he came..?

No… they were terrified.

But after he came?

They were at peace… children could play safely in the streets and Luna’s Father ruled without worrying about dangers rising up to strike them. They were kept in the dark of their homes in constant panic… but when he showed up… when he came…

He felt a tear roll down his eye, and lifted an amazed finger to it, touching it as it moved.

“But they were taken from me… right before my eyes.” he closed his eyes, letting himself cry in front of her now, unable to hold it back as the ice in his heart that was melting away came out of his eyes. “They ended up suffering worse because of me! I was a little resistant to love them back at first… now I know why… I mean… if I had never gone to that village… I wouldn’t have… she… they all would have lived, wouldn’t they?” he looked at his soaked gloves. “These powers… I don’t know why I have them. All I know is that without Shadow’s help, I couldn’t have learned how to master them. Now I can save those people I couldn’t have before.”

“Soler… they loved you.” Amy moved back, “Why is that so hard to grasp? Even at the end, they were happy… they never could have had that joy if you weren’t there protecting them. Even with your powers untrained… you did everything you could to give them the life they had always wanted. I know if they were here—no… if Luna was here! She’d want you to shine for all the world! Giving light and hope, warmth and safety, to all those who have never known a loving, passionate, burning light like that before!” Amy withdrew her arms only to spring them out wide as the moon shone above her.

“Luna loved you! She loved you cause you were exactly what she needed! She could be the soft glow that lit up the darkness from your lonely, dreary life. She guided you to a purpose… and you gave her everything she had never known before! Soler! You gotta see yourself through her eyes!”

“...Through… her eyes..?”

“Soler…”

Luna turned to him, looking peaceful and relaxed as they sat before the sunset.

“Promise me… when you become the man you want to be… that you’ll never forget moments like this?”

“...What do you mean?” He turned to her, smiling as well as they held hands.

“Hehe!” she giggled, blushing but holding his hand a little tighter back.

“That no matter who needs it. You’ll always shine a ray of hope on whoever needs you. Promise me that?”

“Of course. That’s my only goal in life.”

“It’s a dream, Soler… a dream you can live in the broad daylight.” she looked up at the sun. “...I love that part of you, Soler. The part that won’t let himself be taken by the darkness…”

“Luna…” Soler remembered his dark side… and quickly wanted to warn her about it. “Luna, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Whatever it is, I know you’ll get through it.” she gave him a close-eyed smile, before hopping up and twirling around. “Ohh!!! The moon will be out soon! Quick! Tell me and then we can guess which phase it will be tonight!”

“B-but that’s not fair!” he laughed, “You always know what the moon’s going to be. It’s in your necklace!” she laughed and hid her secret.

“Whhhattt..? You calling me a cheater?” she teased, rushing off.

“Hey! Luna!” he took off after her, as she beckoned him on.

He ended up not telling her, always wanting her to believe he was better than what he thought he really was…

“Then that’s what I’ll do.” He gripped his pendant, standing up. “I’ll make sure to be the Sunrise… for someone trapped in the powers of that intimidating darkness… just like her and her village.” he gave a look of determination to the moon. “I promised her.”

Amy wiped the rest of her tears away, drying them up as she nodded at his new resolve. “Good. I’m with you on that one!” she gave him a thumbs up, and he looked kindly down to her.

“Sonic deserves you, Pinky. I’m sorry I thought it was wrong for you to try and be so close to him.” he offered her his hand.

“Ha! Love conquers all!” she took his hand and got up, heading back to base and waving to him. “You coming?”

“Just a minute!” he called back, looking out into the night…

An engine flared in the distance…

“What? It can’t be!” he could have sworn he knew that noise…

His teeth were borne and he looked behind him. “Run, Amy! Get the others!”

“Huh?” she turned around. “Soler..? What’s going-”

“It’s Neo Metal Sonic!” Soler took off into the night’s cool glow...\

Solar Vengeance

Commission for Solerwolf21

By: Cutegirlmayra

Soler ran without looking back, his jaw set as he aligned his path towards a cascade of varying explosions blasting in large or small repetitions. Soler was skillful, used to the battlefield by now, and dodged hurtling land masses, uprooted and burning trees, even narrowly ducking his head back to have his nose almost skim the edges of a large flaming blast directed at him.

He finally made his way down the now burning valley into the thick black smoke, coughing into his gloves. There was no question of his life, nor of the effects of the oxygen burning up around him that could push soot into his lungs. He was there for one purpose and one alone. Hopping from small pebbles that crumbled under his feet to larger stepping stones, Soler finally found a pocket in the valley that had already risen the black smoke above it, leaving some breathing room for the suffering life below. The smoke was being blocked from truly escaping from the mountain passes, but rushing water caught the airborne soot from the air and dragged it down, polluting its waters as it raced down the mountain side.

Soler looked at the spiraling death cloud, clenching his fist with further anger, trying to limit his breaths. ‘This is what happens when evil men don’t get what they deserve!’ he thought these words like a curse, but they propelled him on, searching for more explosions and echoing sounds that could lead him to Neo Metal Sonic.

He coughed in his hand again, spitting on the ground as he could taste the burnt atmosphere and noticed what was being attacked.

He held a hand to a leaning tree, covering his mouth as his eyes widened from the image before him. It was the rebellion, the freedom fighters, everyone was down…

In horror, he rushed below, “No!” he cried out, rushing over to a few of them and checking to make sure they were alive.

With his memory triggered, he held his head. Tears threatened his eyes as they grew glossy, but everyone was still alive…

For now.

“I’ll get you all out of here. Amy’s getting backup.” He tried to speak comforting words, but something hung in his throat, breaking his voice to where it barely held a soothing tone within it. Instead, his anger and sorrow cooled and warmed him, like a cyclone of currents that blended into one. He tried to move a man up to see if he was conscious… and that’s when…

Clanking of metal footsteps caught his attention.

His ears flicked at the sound, directly behind him… He glared around his shoulder, a slow movement, calculating every move and instinct that would follow from here on out.

“...Blinded by your hate?” The dark and metallic voice rung out, shaking the very confines of his memory. It had been years since he had last seen that shimmering coat of metallic blue, the steel blades on the ends of his hands that he dared call fingers, and the connecting silhouette that had once made him believe that Shadow was a murderer.

“Blinded?” His core rocked with the will to fight, to bring swift justice to a people now scattered in faded images… and yet… so real, they could still be dwelling—alive—inside him.

He rose to his feet, chaos power surging within him as he hung his fists out to the sides. “You don’t know the meaning of the word Blind!” He felt all his training suddenly fly out of him like a ghost, the good man in him fleeing to escape the swirling madness of revenge in his heart. That clear and kind demeanour he once held… that gentle soul trying to find his accepted place in the world, the fun and cheerfully content friend his companions lovingly knew and regarded as their comrade… all seemed to dissipate the second Neo Metal Sonic’s red eyes locked with his own lush green glare. Blinded… blinded by hate.

“Bound to blindness… you can neither see the end from the beginning.” Neo Metal Sonic rang out a coarse and deafening denial. It was though he knew. He knew that Soler’s body had gone back to that moment, that catastrophic event that changed the course of his life. He rose a clawed hand, elegantly showing off his form now that he didn’t have to hide it from him any longer. “What I offer your power is more than you can possibly wield…” he crushed his hand into a tight and sharp fist. “In a world full of hope… one must snuff out the light. Just like your precious—organic muse. Only… she couldn’t release the light from within you… no… she couldn’t summon what I wanted. A pointless sacrifice. A death that you made vain. Even I couldn’t have calculated how poorly that performance would fail. All because it couldn’t wrack you to your very soul… Could have saved her? If you unleashed the sleeping power that I so desperately desired from you? No... She was the lesser light… Especially compared to what I’ll do this time…” Neo Metal Sonic began to arch his walk as it took everything within Soler to not launch himself out at him. ‘Lesser light!? Blinded?! What was he going on about!?’ he continued to store up and build power, still unaware of Neo Metal Sonic baiting him. He almost reached the point of Chaos Break but not quite entering into that state just yet… he was waiting…

Something inside him burned like the forest around him, but he couldn’t strike quite yet. He wanted to wait for the ideal moment… when Neo Metal Sonic wouldn’t be able to dodge or read what he was planning…

An opening...

Neo Metal Sonic’s eyes scanned as he rounded him and spoke, keeping a distance, but noticing the concentrated Chaos Energy piling up in him. “You’ve managed to unlock your ability? Perhaps that pawn did do its duty then.” He stopped himself, “To the supreme overlord of this land,... that pathetic organism’s life actually proved of some use after all. In what little it accomplished, at least it has motivated some fulfilling change in you.” He spread his arms out, “Show me,... Wielder of Chaos—No! Host to my soon-to-be new power of channeled, raw chaos…” he lifted one of his hands up, a red heat steaming from his claws. “It’s time… I shall break the chaos from your body… I shall rip it out of you! And then harness it to finally defeat Sonic! And all his worthless, squirming friends! They shall cling to the very essence of life and hope as I shred it from existence!” He blasted a powerful wind from spinning his hand and body quickly in a whirling twist for a moment, causing his cape to flare back behind him and the black smoke to spin away as some of the night finally revealed itself in the tainted sky.

The moon… directly above Neo Metal Sonic, hung itself right where he spun the cloud away, like an all-seeing eye…

“Engage me!”

“With pleasure!!!”

Soler leaped forward, a fierce entanglement of heated metal against sheer, raw chaos forming around Soler’s hands and rising up his arms. The two fought ceaselessly, a close hand-to-hand combat as they spiraled around each other, looking for an opening… ‘Grr..! It’s taking too long!’ Soler remembered Shadow mentioning to be aware of his surroundings. Soler perceived quickly that his battle with Neo Metal Sonic could hurt the downed soldiers around him.

‘Alright… I need to bring Neo Metal Sonic away from them. So that he can fight just me!’ He put his hands together, “Chaos Canon!” blasting up and out of the smoke, he felt he could have some cover while leading Neo Metal Sonic up near the Mountain pass. Forgetting for a moment that Neo Metal Sonic could use heat-sensing, he saw a rapidly moving line of red darting to his position.

“Shoot!” he was now stuck in the air! Thinking fast, he swiped his hand, about to summon Chaos Hailstorm before realizing he could hit someone down below on accident. “Urk..!” he flinched, his eyes wavering in their conviction as he realized there were too many injured for a fair fight. ‘Alright, then. I’ll take this to-!” but before he could make a counter-move, Neo Metal Sonic spun a swift kick into his stomach, shifting him through the air and slamming him into the mountain’s rugged cliffs.

“Ugh… uhh…” Moving himself out of the cliff side, he looked up to see Neo Metal Sonic propel a fist into his face, shoving him further into the mountain as pieces of rock blasted out from the impact.

As the dust cleared, Soler’s face was smashed against its side, but he was fighting for control over the battle again. Neo Metal Sonic was ruthless… he had forgotten how strong he was, how seemingly invincible this robot could appear…

“You are not worthy to hold such power…” Neo Metal Sonic began, moving his heated hand towards him. “Allow me to rectify this conundrum…” as the heated hand flared a red glowing power, Soler turned his chin away and felt sweat trinkle down the side of his face.

‘No… He’s trying to get me to unleash my power… if I do, from this close of a range… He’ll absorb it and become even more powerful..!’ he strained against the hand that was keeping him in place. ‘I can’t give up… Luna..!’ he squinted his eyes, mentally crying out her name for strength.

That’s when he knew.

“You could never wield my power!”

He cried out loud.

“Because I am that power!!!”

“What!?”

“Chhhhaaaoooossss-”

Powering up the last of his pent-up rage, he let loose a new form. Straining against the life-sucking influence of the Chaos factor that converted his very being into power, he shifted fully into his ultimate form. “BREAK!” he blasted an amazed Neo Metal Sonic back, getting him successfully off of him as he homing-attacked through the air, pushing off the mountain side and causing it concave inwards on itself from the magnitude of his pressured ‘push’.

Ramming his spiky chaos ball into Neo Metal Sonic’s discombobulated body, it was clear to tell Neo Metal Sonic was having a hard time getting a reading on him.

“NOOO!!!” He cried out, seeing he was being swarmed with opposition that was too much for his systems to calculate. He ended up shutting off the programmed aid and went straight to blocking, but Soler uncurled from his ball and blasted him down towards the ground, pummeling him further.

“This is for LUNA!” he sent a powerful beam of Chaos through Metal Sonic’s left shoulder, the two falling at alarming rates towards the far front of the forest, away from the struggling freedom fighters. “This is for VILLAGERS YOU MASSACRED!” he launched his fists down to have Chaos power shoot out and knock him with each hit farther and farther out of the sky, further and further away from… “And this… this is for MY FRIEEEENDDDDSSS!!!” One last form… one last moment to end all the suffering and pain Neo Metal Sonic ever manufactured in the world.

“CHAOS SYNERGY!!!” Soler’s leaned forward…. He blasted away the limits of his body and life force, his very soul blazed around him in a shining white of raw energy.

“No… you fool!” Neo Metal Sonic was waiting for this, but it wasn’t what he was expecting at all. “You’ll only end your life and the power will be lost forever!” he activated a reflective surface that opened from the engine in his chest like a jacket, trying to absorb the chaos power from him. Soler breathed heavily, seeing Neo Metal Sonic regain his flight abilities and start channeling his own power from him. “No… I won’t let you get away with this!” Soler blasted out another powerful explosion from his body, pushing Neo Metal Sonic back.

“Un… Unperceivable.” Neo Metal Sonic’s eyes shook as he skidded to a landing on the ground, looking up as his systems began to spark around him. “His berserk form should allow me to absorb all the necessary chaos energy from his body… how… why isn’t it working?!”

There was a moment of peace about Soler… as he began to float in the air… the once cool air now heated by the flames around him. He could feel the world suffering… and when he closed his eyes… he placed his hand to his heart… feeling the same way he did back when Luna’s village was crying out in terror.

‘This power… It doesn’t matter if I die now.’ He felt some form of weight lift off his shoulders, and looked back to Neo Metal Sonic… it was almost amusing to see his bewilderment at having miscalculated his true potential, but that didn’t matter right now.

He could literally see the essence of his life blazing around him, and knew that it wouldn’t be long now… till it was all out and done.

‘But before that time… I’ll make sure Neo Metal Sonic never hurts another living thing again.’ he looked down, like a blazing angel of the night towards Neo Metal Sonic. Even the glow of the flames couldn’t stand against the holy light of his personage.

“I… am Soler The Hedgehog.”

He declared, his eyes glaring like thin slits against the dark of the night.

“You’ve committed a crime against all life upon this world… and I…”

He took one final glance at the moon, then held the necklace tightly in his hand.

It was a solemn, unspoken, and final goodbye.

“Will take you from this world.”

In horror unimaginable, Neo Metal Sonic stepped back. His fear wasn’t of death, but of what power he would enact those words by.

Soler drifted to the ground, and held out his hand. “This is your undoing… Metallic Blue Boy.” he smirked at his inside-joke with Sonic, and prepared a powerful beam. “Solar…” it began to form a tight ball that sounded as though the rays of the sun were building at the palm of his hand. “Chaos…” it grew bigger, beams of light breaking from it’s core.

...He closed his eyes…

‘I hope this is enough to make up for my existence… Luna. I hope this settles my debt… and pays back all the lives that have suffered because of me… because of him.’

His eyes shot open as he pulled his hand back, readying his final attack that would most likely end his life.

Neo Metal Sonic braced himself, opening his body even wider as he transformed himself into a giant absorbing field of mirrored steel that was meant to take in whatever power Soler had within him.

‘Heh...cute.’ Soler thought, smiling and knowing that Neo Metal Sonic couldn’t fathom the terrors of death… but at least this would come close to it.

“FLAREEEEE!!!”

A long, dragon like whip of power twisted itself in the air and flew directly to Neo Metal Sonic.

The power was stilled in his metallic frame, and Neo Metal Sonic began a slow laugh...

Before seeming to robotically choke as his voice blitzed out and his head twitched.

“Heh…” Soler powered down, hunching over in his exhaustion. “Boom.”

BOOOOOOOAWWWWWWWWWMMMMMM!!!!!

Neo Metal Sonic’s pieces flew there… and over there… and some clanked against the rock and tumbled away some place else.

Then Soler collapsed to the ground.

“Was this… enough… L-Luna?”

Then something unexpected happened.

A figure rose from the blackened corpse of Neo Metal Sonic, his literal frame-ware of his body without its Sonic-like metal coating. A literal skeleton… creeping its way towards Soler.

His eyes shook, “N-no…!” he couldn’t believe it. “He survived!?”

He pushed his body past its limit once more, rising from the ground to his knees and powering up what little life he had left. Closing one eye, he raised his hand back up, keeping it up with his other as its support. “I guess there really is no living through it… I’ve gotta use it all.”

As the skeleton reached out, walking like a zombie with sparks everywhere, a purely naked figure of its robotic plating, a hammer suddenly flew out of nowhere and knocked it into a burning bush.

“Soler! Don’t-!” Amy rushed out to his side, dropping to him as he stared amazed.

“A...Amy?”

“That last blast almost wiped out our rescue party!” she explained, hugging him close as his eyes remained in shock.

His head just naturally fell to her shoulder, his hand not going down. “I… I have to destroy him… I can’t let him live.”

The steel skeleton rose out of the bush, oil leaking around it to blast explosions from itself. It looked truly sickening, but Amy continued.

“But that form… I heard you shout it out. That was Chaos Synergy.” she looked to see the white forming from his feet up his knees… he was retaking the form.

She pulled back, shaking his shoulders, “Soler, stop! Please! That forms kills you right? It drains you..? Soler, listen to me! Soler!!!”

Blinded still by his anger and hate, his hand slowly began to power up another blast. Now his vision was blurry, his mindset on destruction…

“Move… Pink.” he stated beneath his breath. “Move…”

“NO!” she shook her head, spreading her arms out wide, “Soler, listen to me! This isn’t what Luna wanted! She would have wanted you to live happily! If you do this… you’ll destroy the valley! You’ll destroy the very lives you’ve worked so hard to fight for! You trained so hard… so diligently… in hopes of protecting people… is this the future you want to make for yourself?! Scattered in more merciless killing!?”

Soler’s eyes twitched, his old self returning to him…

The hunger of seeing Neo Metal Sonic suffer greater than his own pain suddenly weighed back down on him. “But… he deserves this… he deserves to die.”

“He’s a robot, Soler! Eggman will just make another one!” Amy grabbed his head, hoping to focus the last of his fading vision onto her.

“Please… think of the real people around you… think of the hero you want to be… the one Luna saw in you… that day you saved her life.”

His eyes flexed and his pupils dilated. He recounted taking that bullet for her.

His hand twitched, the light in it slowly fading away…

“Life is worth saving, Soler… Don’t throw your life away for one victory… that needlessly leads to further suffering and pain. We’d all miss you, Soler… we all love and need you so much…” she lowered her head, crying into his chest as the warm tears cooled his boiling rage…

He finally… slowly… let the hand slip and his arm fall back down to his side.

Neo Metal Sonic’s skeleton continued to work through the bushes and explosion with a limped leg, before falling to the flames eating at its faked life and consuming what little energy he held left.

Then… Soler passed out in Amy’s arms, hearing her scream his name.

Neo Metal Sonic had tried to steal his powers… but what he did steal… was his clear conscience. However, with the last of the fight, Amy returned his sanity back, and Neo Metal Sonic couldn’t take his pure heart from him, the innocent intent of saving all that were within Soler’s reach.

It wouldn’t have been a good way to die, anyway. At least, that’s what Soler kept telling himself. As he dreamed, he saw Luna standing on the moon, looking away from him before turning with her long hair whisping around her.

She was crying… but smiling.

A Chaos Emerald was used to revive what little life was left in Soler, and he woke up in a hospital bunker, looking around as the Freedom Fighters cheered around at their friends all waking up from the horrible ordeal.

Shadow pulled back the Chaos Emerald, glaring to him as though not wanting to scold him in front of everyone. However, Soler got the message, bending his ears back and looking sheepishly guilty, trying to smile apologetically back. Shadow and even Blue Boy had constantly warned him about his synergy spikes… still, it was nice to see he cared.

Sonic walked by, trying to be casual about it, but whacked Soler upside the head while Sally gave a speech. He rubbed his head and kept quiet, knowing the two didn’t want to cause a scene but also seeing Sonic look back over his shoulder, giving him a wink. So, at least Sonic was glad he made the right choice in the end, but Shadow folded his arms. He clearly wasn’t having it. Soler was going to have to sit through Shadow’s wrath for a bit… but he would take it knowing it came from a good place. Tails began after Sally, stating they had put out the fires around the surrounding area. A medal was given to some, but then Sally personally came over to Soler, without the prying eyes of the crowd. A silent exchange was given from the medal to Sonic and Shadow, but they both just looked like polar opposites. Sonic nodded, as though to silently say ‘Keep your chin up, buddy!’ to be more encouraging, since he rarely dwelt in the past. Shadow, on the other hand, wouldn’t be satisfied until Soler was worthy of the medal.

The medal she handed him was made of white material he couldn’t perfectly identify, and winked to him as she rested her hand on his shoulder, “Amy told us.” she whispered, “We were able to treat your injuries, but Shadow used the Chaos Emerald to treat what he called ‘your soul’. I hope you’re alright, Soler. I’m glad to still have you with us.” she moved on, but there was a genuine look of gratitude in her eyes.

The medal came with a note, thanking Soler for his bravery in diverting Neo Metal Sonic’s attacks away from the injured, but Soler knew what it was really saying…

Throughout the course of the day, many fighters came over and checked on him, it overwhelmed it. It was all too much. He realized that only the main gang had known what sacrifice he was willing to do, but the others just thanked him for his support. They worried about him… they really cared about him… Those he had saved thanked him. He didn’t feel very worthy of it. Yes, he had thought of them, but he almost endangered them by his furious outbursts as well…

He took a deep breath, ‘No matter what, I was meant to learn the things I did in my life.” he knew Amy was right and clutched his slightly singed necklace tighter to his heart, leaning back in his recovery bed and being careful not to disturb the bandages wrapped all over him in different sections of his body. “I was meant to have loved Luna, as she was meant to love me. I understand my feelings more,... and even though the past still haunts me, I was able to look forward with hope for a better future… one where I’ll live for those who can’t survive without someone else watching their back. I’ll be the power they never had.’ he lulled himself to sleep with this promise on his mind, closing his eyes… ‘I’ll be a true hero… so no one has to suffer what I’ve suffered… yeah, I think that’ll do. I think that’ll be… my repentance…’

He began to fall asleep…

‘My redemption.’

Lunar Ellipse

Commission of 60-70 pages for the amazing Solerwolf21

By: Cutegirlmayra

It’s been a long time since the Metal Sonic incident…

I’ve been carrying the weight of that day for a while now… I know it’s no good, so I’m trying to get my mind off of things and start something new.

At least, something new to think about…

That’s when I thought about Sally.

Soler held his medal close to himself, looking down forlorned as he continued his afternoon walk. It was getting late, as it usually does, but he missed his morning sulk so this was his best effort to stay on schedule.

“Heh,” He lightly laughed out loud at the thought. ‘Morning Sulk’ was a good name for it, but he liked the fresh air too. It was nice to get away from everyone’s busy work and all the fighting.

Time and time again… one fight after the other. But it was exhausting, you know? Then Eggman suddenly blipped off the radar. Everyone got anxious and confused, scared even. I went out on my own to do some recon and came back with to a nasty surprise. Apparently, I didn’t ask permission to go off on recon and the whole of the Freedom Fighters was about to send out a search party with Sally at the command.

After that, Sonic had told me to take it easy… but what does that mean?

Did everyone just suppose I was unstable? Maybe I wasn’t… maybe I really was.

I’ve thought a lot of things lately…

He stared at the ground as his shoes kicked the dirt off the path as he continued. The scent of pinewood and the weeds scrapping against his feet created a pleasant scenery. Not too many flowers, but just enough to catch the eye.

Mostly, I’ve thought a lot about Sally. But then…

He sighed, looking up as he let go of the medal and clasped the necklace instead.

“Luna… The moon’s about to come out soon.” He stopped a moment as he tried to remember which moon this would be.

When he realized he didn’t know, a sudden harsh sadness came on him. “Did I forget?” He seemed almost spooked. Feeling guilty, he quickly ran to try and see the moon over the hill he usually star-gazed on. He climbed a moment on all floors to regain some balance at his new quickened pace. It was a tad slippery from some rainfall, but Soler didn’t mind it. He was used to laying on this hill as fresh dew scattered across it. It was refreshing after the walk, and the sun warmed him while the earth cooled his sweaty back.

Things weren’t necessarily quiet back at camp… the Freedom Fighters had their fair share of Eggman busting to do. After he went dark, they were on high alert, finding rogue robots from his army and taking those down one by one. Sonic and Shadow both agreed I needed space and time to think, but qgain, what exactly does that mean? Were they really not gonna let me help? Just because of the Neo Metal Sonic incident… or because I went off on my own without telling anyone? It was confusing, to say the least… I felt bad about it, but I also hoped everyone had already put it passed them.

I guess I did give everyone quite a scare…

After racing to the top of the hill, he paused to look up, breathing hard in his worry. His emerald green eyes scanned the falling horizon, “… It’s not up yet.” He looked behind him and suddenly clutched his fists. “Dang it. I really can’t let go!” he slammed it into the hillside’s top, a full-blown swing as he slightly jumped and let it collide with the earth, bending and landing on his knees to reach the mark. This caused a small pound but none of his chaos energy was put into it, so his hand just hurt a little from the harsh hit.

“Huh?” He once again wondered what was going on. “My… my abilities?” he tried to see if he could do a Chaos Spear.

As practiced a thousand, no—millions of times with Shadow, he released a perfect set of spears that flew with a whistle out into the air and pierced sharply into the ground upon descending in an arrow’s arch. After a moment, they disappeared in a swiped flash and were no more.

“Phew… Why am I so paranoid?” he gripped his wrist, just massaging it a bit and wondering why he didn’t feel himself today.

Recently… I’ve been thinking too much.

He sat down, plopping on the tippy top of the hill as though not caring if he hurt himself in the process. Staring up, he vaguely saw the sun finally setting and dipping away.

It was his favorite thing. Waiting for the moon to come up. The Moonset, as he called it. However, he couldn’t bring himself to view the moon today, though he willed himself too. A pain slowly sank from his chest down into his heart and stomach. His mind raced again from the longings of his heart… his words following, unable to contain what lie inside his every thought.

“Luna…” He looked down at the necklace, waiting to see what the moon would be like today. “Luna… if I decided to love someone else… would you always know I still loved you?”

There was an unshakable silence.

---

“Soler! You’re falling behind!” The voice was so real, so tangible. It was soft and high, like a cloud against the moon. It was shrouded in utter fascination and mystery to Soler, so hard to describe, but so easily to recognize and pull again to mind.

“Ha…Ha… I’m trying, alright!?” Counter wise, his voice was husky from all the running, heavy breaths interrupted any sweet, playfulness it usually carried.

“Well, try harder!” she urged.

“You’re just as pushy as your dad!” He raised his head up, trying to keep up the pace.

“Haha! I take that as a compliment!” It was a typical day with the beautiful chief’s daughter, nothing in the world could ruin this memory for him.

Luna raced up the track that headed back to her village, looking behind her constantly to wave and encourage Soler on. “Come on! If you make it, I might just give you a hero’s kiss~” she taunted, winking and blowing him a tease.

Soler’s head shot up, “Huh?” It hadn’t been long since they confessed the buddings of romance to each other, but the thought of a kiss still brought a faint blush to his cheeks.

“What? Was that not motivation enough? Hehe!” she laughed as she bolted forward again.

How mischievous… But I don’t dislike that about her. In fact, it’s kinda fun and refreshing to see her tease me like this.

He smiled, his breathing seeming to find a rhythm in their jog now. She was quite a ways ahead, but he didn’t mind giving her the head start. He loved running. It was something he always did when exploring new places.

But… today was meant to be the day he was going to tell her he wanted to head out again. His nomadic ways hadn’t stopped so suddenly. It was a habit to find new places and people to serve, it was just his nature to acquaint himself with anyone who needed his help.

He wanted to leave for a while, but also wanted to promise her he’d come back and live there with her… he was still so young, they both were.

His eyes arched as he thought about it…

If I kiss her… will that make me change my mind?

He shook his head.

I’ll just let her win. Besides, she usually does, anyway.

“Slowpoke!”

“That does it.” He narrowed his eyes, smiling. “Here I come!” he had stored his energy long enough He burst forward with a high-speed velocity, but nothing compared to the rumored Fastest Thing Alive. His lungs pumped air in and out like a steam-train without any breaks, his legs like well-oiled wheels being pushed by a long gear to never quit or strain under the pressure. He felt an open smile as he breathed through his mouth and was charging up to the side of her at a rapid pace.

His heart had a goal in mind, but his mind didn’t have the heart to disappoint her.

He began to catch up swiftly, causing her to stop laughing and gasp in fright. Immediately, she began to run with all her effort—for real this time. Though, her curiosity and fright at his sudden bolt made her keep looking over her shoulder, slowing her speed down every time she looked back to see him continually picking up speed.

“Eeee..!” her mouth stretched far back, clearly nervous about the rewards at stake…

“Heh.” Here’s for trying to tempt me! He slid up next to her and grabbed her hand, “Need a boost?”

“Ah!” she blushed, while he looped her hand under his arm and passed the village gates—side by side.

Serves her right for upping the ante.

It was terribly romantic, too. A duo tie. However, if Soler knew anything about Luna, she would downplay his charms and pretend like she wasn’t smitten at all by it.

“Y-you’re pretty fast.” She didn’t move away from him as he slowed down to a stop, looking down at her ducking face.

He could still see the pink all over her muzzle though, so it was enough to make him smile.

There was heat on his cheeks too, but the fresh air and smell of food being cooked in the village cooled and stilled him off. He would probably eat something light with her to make up for all the lost energy.

He decided not to ask about the ‘reward’ but instead, poke at her nose. “I know you’re pretty fast yourself. Almost lost there if I didn’t think fast too.”

She giggled at his touched and looked up at him, shyly trying to disguise her fondness for him. That smile though… couldn’t even hide a secret…

“Did you have fun?” He found himself saying, finding his breathing had returned to a normal rhythm again. He was glad she didn’t pull away, it reassured him that this tie was a grand idea in the end. At least, she always seemed to enjoy his company, and this wasn’t exactly the first time he was trying to win her affections through a clever tactic. He was used to be bolder with her now, since they confessed. But it did leave him wondering if he should really leave or not…

“Y-yes.” She put her other hand to her chest and tried to still her racing heart again. “But I think my heart still thinks we’re in the race.”

“Well… who said we’re not?”

“H-huh?”

He leaned down and lightly pecked the side of her cheek, making sure to pull her lightly over to him with his arm that still held her hand in place.

“Ah! Stop it! Not in public!” she cutely moved away and shoved him off, causing him to wobble a bit before grinning happily and stepping away from her.

“Whatever you say, Luna.”

She covered her face, but then opened her hands enough to stick her tongue out at him.

“You offered first…” he mumbled as he folded his arms and looked away. He decided not to push it anymore, concluding that she probably was still a bit hesitant about it all.

“Actually,… Luna… I meant to ask you something.”

Luna stiffened a bit.

“I… I think I’d like to-“ He was about to address the subject when a familiar voice, like brass toned to a mature ring, echoed towards the two abruptly.

“Luna! Darling!” Suddenly, out of the blue, her father stepped in and worriedly embraced his daughter. “What have I told you about wandering too far from the village?! Ah, Soler!” he saw Soler and outstretched his palm to him. “Now I see! You were being protected! I’m glad then. But still, dear girl, don’t go running off like that!”

“But dad, I’m-“

“A big girl who still asks me to cook breakfast for her?” He raised a comical eyebrow as Soler covered his mouth to chuckle.

She blushed and looked to Soler, then her father. “Dad!”

At this point, Luna’s father had completely taken Soler in. It didn’t change the fact that he didn’t exactly know Soler and Luna’s relationship, but at the same time, Soler felt he wouldn’t mind much either.

But they were still… so young.

He looked back out of the gates of the village, feeling some left over thrill at running out and exploring what else could be out there again.

His powers…

He looked down at his hands with striped ‘X’s over his gloves. I also want to go somewhere safe to train… My combat skills are better than ever, so far. And I’m sure there are other villages out there that could use my help too.

He turned back to watch the antics of father and daughter play out a familiar scene. The Chief was a bit protective over her, but it made sense since she was slightly childish at times. Seeing Luna scold her father while he kept lovingly reminding her of her youth made Soler wish once again to have known more about where he came from, what family dynamics he might have had. It was too much of a blurry memory, hazy from years of being unable to recall it. Still… he considered this village a type of family, and wondered what they’d think of him taking off for a while…

“-And that one time you asked me to buy you that adorable hedgehog doll made out of hay. You painted it white, you know.”

“DAD, SERIOUSLY, STOP!” she kept jumping up to try and reach his mouth, hoping to slam a hand over it and shut him up. However, The Chief kept raising his head to avoid her, laughing at her attempts to reach his rather large height.

“Hahah! Even put cute, little pink blush-dots on the cheeks.”

“I’m so embarrassed!” Luna finally gave up and covered her face again, ducking as she raced off deeper into the village. “You’re the worst, Dad!”

“Haha. About time she gave up.” As though planning this, The Chief turned to Soler. Soler realized then that he was trying to embarrass her and have her run off. Soler gulped, wondering what The Chief was up too… “Now then, why don’t you and I have a talk, young man.”

Soler suddenly felt a whole planet had been dropped on him. A… A talk? Did he know!?

“Y-…Yes, sir.” He didn’t know why he was so nervous all of a sudden. He deeply respected The Chief, he was a good man, but the way he said that…

The two walked around the village, full of young and old life doing chores like hanging clothes out on lines or cooking for the village feast. They didn’t usually eat in families on weekends but had big parties to celebrate their happy village community.

Soler loved it here, but the atmosphere was something he wasn’t accustomed too. They had welcomed him with open arms, a little hesitant about his presence at first before saving them from a wild creature of sorts. Soler was sure it was something dark and possibly enraged by battling one of Eggman’s robots, evident by oil all over its hide. But whatever it was, it wasn’t natural. Soler had gotten injured and some of that darkness infected his injury, but Luna tended to him and his strange power had taken care of the rest. He was a bit uncomfortable with how sincerely grateful they were to him, always making him special in any social gathering, but he took it with a polite smile and awkward head nod.

Today, it seemed The Chief wanted to talk about manhood. He began to recite something that sounded recited, if that makes any sense. So although Soler listened intently to the chief’s speech on what a true, righteous man is… he was instantly bored of the topic and observing the life of the bustling village about him. He was constantly in awe at it, watching the children play outside their little straw houses or huts. So modest an abode, but then again, no one seemed to notice wealth or poverty. It was like they all shared and communicated freely, nothing was bought or sold, but exchanged and handed out without contracts or agreements. Just… in the spirit of being friendly and neighborly.

He knew it was very different from the outside world though, but when The Chief began to change his tone, Soler immediately started to pay more attention to his long monologue.

“Now, a lot of people ask what a young man like you would want to be when he grows up. A warrior? Simple farmer? But any of man can be a truly good, exemplary, benevolent man regardless of upbringing or birth.”

The entire time, Soler felt uneasy. He wasn’t much into justice or goodness. He just did what he felt was for the benefit of other’s safety. A man has his own soul to look after, but that doesn’t mean he can’t risk it save another’s. He wanted to ignore again and scan the silkworks for a sign of Luna, maybe find her gathering hay in a field and carrying it to the storehouse. Either way, anything would be better than being stuck with a rambling old man about traditional man values…

Why can’t I just be my own kind of man?

“-And so a true man has a heart that will never yield to injustice, but always fight for what is right. Regardless of this, he also obeys the laws the citizens have placed by their own will and hearts. So, what I’m saying is, the fifth quality of a true, righteous man is to respect the hearts of others, as well as the laws they give to govern themselves- ah… Soler?” The chief hit his staff a few times to the ground, causing Soler to snap out of his walking-sleep and shake his head a second.

He immediately realized he had been caught daydreaming, and apologetically scratched the back of his head.

“E…heh.” Opps.

“…Ehem.” The Chief cleared his throat, showing he was aware that Soler was dozing off while walking with him. Which… his eyes were wondering a lot, and after a moment,… maybe he did rest them without realizing noticing he was dozing off…

The Chief sighed, “One day, you will become a man. What, prey tell, kind of man do you want to be?”

Without hesitation, Soler opened his mouth-

And yawned.

“You aren’t very keen on thinking of the future, are you, boy?” The chief relaxed his tensed-up shoulders a moment, showing his caring eyes again that told Soler he was off the hook.

At least, for now.

“Honestly, Chief… I wanted to tell you and Luna what I’ve been thinking and feeling lately.”

“Oh?” The chief seemed interested, switching his staff to the other hand and waiting patiently for Soler to continue. “Go on.”

“I… There’s just a… big, whole world out there!” Soler spread his arms out. “I mean… don’t get me wrong, you must know how I feel about your village, but…”

“Emhmm…” the chief smiled, leaning down and giving Soler a look like he knew how he felt about a certain daughter of his too…

But Soler shook off the feeling and smiled sheepishly, continuing with his original thought. “B-but I can’t help and feel like I want to go out there and see what other things I can learn and do. I want to come back! Honest! I just…” he felt his animated arms suddenly slow and drop to his sides. “…I’m sorry. I have to see who else I can help. If I even have control enough to help them.” He felt his uncertainty bite down on his words, but he felt he could tell The Chief anything. Even his own heart…

“There, there, boy. You are a typical young man.” The Chief put his arm around Soler’s shoulders, since he was quite a large man. But clearly, The Chief was beyond his own youthful years now and couldn’t really defend the village himself. Hearing Solar speak these things… Soler wondered if he’d really be okay with his words. “You don’t want to be stuck in a fishbowl, spinning in circles inside the plot of space allotted to you. And although I wish I could just say, ‘off you go!’ I’m afraid my fear for my village is a little more prominent on this matter than I hoped.”… or not.

He gave a fatherly shake on Soler’s shoulders before letting go and walking on, shaking his head. “What will we do without you, Soler? Is your mind made up or are you still willing to consider staying here?” it was a kind plea, one that made it hard to respond too.

Soler felt his heart ache a moment. “You’re a good leader, Chief. Honest, you are! I just… I have to go.” Soler admitted, though it pained him to see the Chief look so downhearted.

The Chief took a moment, not speaking as he clearly was sad to hear this.

But after a moment, he nodded and sighed, walking off. “I have no say in your life, Soler… I just wish I could convince you somehow.”

Soler bowed in respect, “Thank you… Chief.” He stopped to show he wasn’t going to follow and speak with The Chief further. The Chief looked sorrowfully over his shoulder to Soler, his eyebrows showing the concern for not only Soler’s life, but the safety of his village. He was a good man, though. He was going to let Soler do as he wished.

Now all Soler had to do… was break the news to Luna.

He looked behind him, wondering how on earth he was going to tell her.

…Easier said than done…

---

The moon was high now, the stars not out yet, but the owls cooed on their sideline choirs. Soler opened his eyes, relaxing and having dozed off in a dream of his past for a moment.

He rubbed his eyes, placing his hands on his stomach. He yawned and pulled out the necklace.

“Hmm. So that’s the phase today.” He concluded, and let his head fall back to the soft grace he was resting on before.

He had matured so much since then… But his yawn still matched that boy from the dream… his past self. He had no idea what was in store to come.

Soler lowered his eyes,… remembering the horrors that would then ensnare Soler’s every step forward. The pity and the pain, the sorrow and the savagery.

“…Luna.” He began. He found that something new had slipped into the crevices of his broken heart.

“I want to ask Sally if she’d like to go on a walk with me.”

It wasn’t what he usually said to the moon, but it was just what popped out. He had conversations like this, out loud with the moon as the only witness, holding Luna’s necklace by his heart. The moon never responded, and neither did Luna.

But there was no silence this time. Crickets hopped with their strings creaking out into the night. The owls’ choir was still in full rehearsal for the dead of night, and the moon stayed motionless to observe the orchestra in the dark.

“Would you… feel betrayed if I did?” he felt the cold nip at his nose, causing him to shiver slightly. “You’re my long-lasting love, Luna… I appreciate you more than anything else in the world. You did so much for me… Will you let me get close to someone else? Move on? I’m just…” he turned on his side, “I’m just lonely again… feeling like I’m wanting a fishbowl… but denying it again and again.”

There was a swift wind that ruffled his quills on his back.

“Brr…” he felt the chill and got up, rubbing his arms and blowing some hot air into his hands. “It’s gonna be winter soon… I can’t come see the moon all the time like this. This isn’t a goodbye or anything… it’s kinda like…” he looked back up at the moon, shining as there wasn’t a cloud in the sky to dull its glow. “Permission.”

---

A pot crashed to the floor as the other girls in the storage room all stopped their cluttering chores and watched as Soler backed away from Luna.

She quickly turned around with glossy eyes, “Leaving..? Why? What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing’s wrong!” Soler shook his hands out, and then looked around at the people around him.

Shoot. She should have come with me to our tree… but she just had to decide that she’d finally listen to her father for once and not leave the village!

Luna opened her mouth to say something but stopped as she closed it tight.

She forced her eyes not to blink, and quickly grabbed Soler’s arm, dragging him out of the room so no one could see the very real threat of tears coming to her eyes. One blink, and she would be a mess in front of those who looked up to her family for guidance and leadership.

Soler felt bad about whispering the news into her ear, but she refused to come with him, what else could he have done?

They hiked in silence as Soler tried to explain himself but Luna shushed him every chance he got a word out.

Finally, they were at their tree, where he originally asked her to go. “Luna, say something!” He begged when she let him go and spun around.

“Soler… I don’t want you to go.” She admitted, her voice shaking a moment in her emotions.

“I know… I know that, okay?” He gently approached her, placing his hands on her arms. “Don’t cry, Luna… I’ll come back! I promise! I’ll bring you lots of things too. You’ll see, it’ll be like I never left.”

“…You don’t have to go, do you?” she looked up, and it broke his heart to see her so upset.

“…No.” he whispered, letting the word slip out of his mouth. “I want to go, though.”

“But why?” She moved away a second, “Am I not good enough?” she then raced back into his arms, hugging him tightly. “I thought you were going to protect this village!”

“I-…” he was losing it.

Why should I go?

He looked away.

Any guy would want to stay. Luna was amazing. Her father adored him. The village was just giddy to accept him into their family… so why?

He remembered.

“Luna, I have a power that is extremely dangerous, hidden inside of me.” He took her hands in his own, holding them together. “I do care about you, a whole awful lot, but…” he turned his head away from her, thinking carefully on his next words. “I also want to make sure that when I come back, I’m strong enough to protect more than just your village.” His eyes bore a witness of his love for her, but he worried she couldn’t understand. He had turned back to her, but she was still emotionally distraught, letting tears fall more willingly now that it was just the two of them.

That was Luna for you, always dropping her front for Soler. She only cared that he loved her, and the rest was meaningless.

But she clearly feared his words, and didn’t seem to understand why he was doing this.

Luna sniffed, looking at his nose and lightly moving her hand to drift a finger onto it, letting it slide down and reach his muzzle before continuing the stroke down to his mouth. “Just… stop talking, okay?”

He felt something flare up inside him, but he wasn’t sure what it was. The strange touch was hypnotic, it altered his thoughts a moment before her finger stopped at his mouth, and her words brought him back to reality. He hadn’t felt anything that powerful before, but he also chose to ignore it.

“Luna…” He looked down at her finger, feeling his lips move under its touch… He felt his whole body surrendering and he didn’t understand why. His will to continue to comfort and encourage her was the only thing keeping him talking. Reassuring her that he was coming home was the only thing that matter now. He had to make sure she understood him. That he would, honestly, come back!

“I said to stop… please…” she ducked her head into his chest fur, ruffling her face deeper inside it to rid herself of the tears and feel something warm and inviting again.

“I don’t care how powerful you are.” She spoke boldly now. “I don’t care! I love you!” she pulled out of his chest and lightly kissed him.

Now he was confused.

A moment ago, he was ready to pack up with a goal in mind. Hone his skills and help others, come back for Luna with gifts in hand, and live the rest of his life as a guardian over the little village.

But now..?

All he wanted to do was warp his arms around her thin waist, skim the skin of their lips over the other’s, and not think at all. Just feel.

He held her so close that there was nothing between them and brought her deeper into her misaimed kiss. It was rash and bold, and her inexperience led her to just dive and go for it. Thankfully, this didn’t deter his affections for her. He found where her lips were and started to kiss back, feeling her sudden strength falter and finally, she too surrendered her weight into him.

When air was required, the two parted and just hung in the moment, unable to separate feelings from reason.

“…How could I leave you?” his breathless confession gave her courage. “I’m madly in love with you, too…”

She went for another kiss, leaving him even more conflicted.

Nothing wanted to resist her, but everything in him knew he needed too.

She lured his resistance back down inside of him, pulling out a vulnerability he had never felt before. She lightly slid her hands down to his embracing arms, enticing him to follow her towards the side of their tree.

I have to stop this… if I don’t, she’ll never let me go.

His brain knew that, but his heart kept letting her lead.

Darn it! How is she so good at this!?

Though innocent to the ways of love, Luna seemed to have a knack for it. Whether she had been planning this for a while or just imagined it happening and played it out didn’t matter. Whatever it was, Luna was keeping him there, and that thought…

Scared him.

Luna leaned against the tree, pulling him close again as her fingers returned to the side of his face and brought his kiss deeper and deeper into her. When she moved away, he felt like the planet had shifted, opening his eyes and wondering what on earth was happening. It was great, but it was so sudden. What were we even talking about again?

“Then don’t go. Stay with me. Soler, don’t you want to stay?” it was so sweet, so inviting… he remembered once again what it was he had to do, what awful power lie inside of himself, and immediately took his hands away and placed them on the tree. They were on either side of her while he breathed a moment, shifting his eyes as he didn’t know now what to do. Give into his mind or his heart? What was the better option here?

“Please… don’t make this harder on me than it already is.” He was begging her to free him. Whatever entrapment she was casting on him, it was working all too well. “I don’t want to constantly have the fear that my power will burst out of me, hurt you or someone in your village.”

“Our village…” she cooed, moving towards his lips again.

Was this manipulation!? Should I care if it is or isn’t?! Luna… all I can think about is you now! Why is this so hard to bear…

In the middle of another passionate, but inexperienced kiss, he found his arms twitching to return to her sides… but he pulled away and placed them back on the tree’s trunk, resisting.

“No.” He had to side with his mind. Otherwise… otherwise… what horrors could happen to them if my powers whacked out and killed them all!?

“No, Luna…” He stated it again so faintly this time, she thought he had just been breathing.

She kissed his cheek and he pulled away once more, shaking his head but keeping his eyes shut. One look at her and he would be at her mercy again. He had to keep it together, somehow…

“Luna… Luna, I love you, but we’re so young.” It took every bit of him to fully move away, to think of her safety over the feelings she was tugging out of him. Like a tug-o-war, he kept fighting her gentle pulls and pulled back with his own. I have to win. For her safety. Why doesn’t she understand that!?

He shook his hand, rubbing the other hand through his quills as he moved away from their tree. I gotta calm down. If I don’t think clearly, I’ll disappoint The Chief… Or maybe… this is what The Chief meant by convincing me? No, no! They wouldn’t play me that way!

“Soler… I’m not a child anymore.” She asserted herself, stepping in front of him and cutting off his doubting thoughts. “It’s okay to kiss me. I don’t mind-“

“No, that’s not it! That kiss was amazing! Are you kidding me?!” His goofy side was coming out with his nerves, and she giggled at his response.

“Really..? It was my first…” she held her hands in front of herself, soaking in the praise and blushing with accomplishment. “But besides that… was it enough to make you stay?”

He froze, his hands still mid-motion running along the spikes on his head.

“…I just don’t think you’re listening to me.” He admitted, being honest. “I think all you hear is that I’m going away, but what you’re not hearing is that I’m coming back. For you, Luna. I’m going away and coming back for you.”

“You’re… leaving for me?” she decided not to argue about the ‘listening’ part, and instead, try and seek understanding.

“Yes!” he excitedly threw his hands up to his sides. “Yes! I want you safe! I want to make sure everyone is safe with me around! Do you understand, Luna? I want to stay, but I first have to make sure I’m safe.”

He put his hands to his heart, desperately hoping she’d understand now.

“You’ve seen my power before, haven’t you, Luna? Have you forgotten so quickly what I can do?”

“…You can… do incredible things.” She seemed to be understanding a bit more now, opening up to the idea more. This gave him strength in his resolve, but every fiber of his being wanted to reach for her cheek and pull her into another mutual kiss. He had to resist that urge though. He knew now he had to leave… tonight.

“But those things aren’t always incredibly good. They can also turn incredibly dangerous in seconds. I don’t have any control over it, Luna. What if one day—And I mean one day as in some day—I seriously hurt you beyond my current capabilities? What if, while I’m still growing up, my powers grow with me and I can’t take back what they do?”

Her face sunk into a look of hopelessness. “Do you really think it controls you?” she looked into his eyes.

“I have no idea what it is, or what it can do.” He admitted, moving up and finally letting his fingers curl around her cheek bones and place his forehead to hers. He closed his eyes, squinting them so hard he thought he’d burst into tears if he didn’t. “But I won’t let it happen. I’ll sharpen my powers. I’ll be someone who can save others. Not just on a fluke, but for real. I took a hit for you, remember? I really need you to take this one for me…”

He felt wrong pulling that out of the bag in such a way as he did. But it was his last resort. “Let me go, Luna?” he asked, so sincerely. “Let me go and be a good man.”

She gently… lifted her hand to his own and nodded, crying softly without words.

They stayed in the others embrace for a moment, holding one another as their emotions came back to a somewhat reasonable stability. After a moment of silence, Luna consoled herself and reserved her feelings. She looked back up at him, feeling him gently wipe her tears away with a soft smile on his face.

She finally spoke, “Okay.” She said lightly.

She held a long blink a moment, as if forcing herself to say it again. She opened her eyes and looked up into his again, “Okay…”

That night, Luna stood outside his small, roughly constructed hut the villagers had made for him as he gathered his things. He didn’t have much, but he needed supplies for a long journey. He didn’t give her a set time, not wanting to make any promises he couldn’t keep, but he did give her one last kiss. However, she pulled quickly out of it, not saying a word.

It lingered, that heartache from her silence and reserved attitude as he waved one last time down the track that lead to her home, the lively and pleasant village.

She didn’t wave back, she just winked with a forced smile.

“I’ll be back before you know it, Luna… Every time you see the sunrise-“ he pointed to the moon, “And every time I see the moon, I’ll be thinking of you.”

“…I’ll pray that the sun rises every day then.” She held her necklace tightly in her hand, holding in the words she really wanted to say. “Don’t go… don’t go…”

“I love you… I love you…” every time he wanted to look back, he took another step forward, uttering the words after her own silent pleadings.

She mouthed more of the same desperate longings for him to rush back into her arms, returning to her and forgetting everything he had said previously. But as he left earshot, heading off into the night, she could see each firm foot-fall at every step he dared to take. She knew then that he wouldn’t be tempted to turn back to her, and formed a strong face in the mist of her turmoil inside her heart.

She would be there when he returned, he just knew it.

He had to trust his gut.

But his gut was saying…

Don’t go.

---

Soler woke up with Sally hurriedly placing blankets on his head.

“H-huh?”

“Quick! Get me some hot water, anything to fight off the cold.”

“C-cold?”

“You idiot!” she saw he had awoken and placed her hands on her hips, stubbornly. “You fell asleep just before the winter night! Are you asking to get ill or something?”

He lifted a cold hand to his head, burning with a fever.

“Guess I was…” he joked, but Sally just rolled her eyes and then smiled at him.

“Well, how inconsiderate of you. Now we have to use precious medicine meant for emergencies on your slight fever.”

“Is it that bad?”

“I didn’t emphasize ‘slight’, did I?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Then you’re not doing so hot.”

“Duly noted. Temperature?”

“What do you care? Your fever is your own doing. I’ll get a cold washcloth for your head, just don’t move from that spot, alright?” She was harsh, but there was always a loving touch behind each sarcastic jab.

I was almost thankful I got sick. Sally personally stayed by my side and nursed me. It was day two and she was making soup for me, waving off another freedom fighter from worrying about me. She said, “I’ll handle this one. You just make sure Nicole doesn’t overheat with all the decoding Tails and Rotor are making her do. Is Amy still with Sonic? Tell her he’s fine and he’s just being a baby. How about Shadow? You should tell him Soler’s fallen ill by his own accord. I don’t know, don’t ask me. We found him lying on a hill shivering in the absolute worst state last night. We would have never found him without Team Chaotix picking his signal up while searching for badniks.”

Soler smiled slightly, his eyes blinking a few times as he listened in on her voice while waking up to its worried tone, honing all his senses onto it.

Then she came in, making him nervous as he found he pulled the covers of the blankets up a bit before Sally saw he was awake.

With a kind smile, she put some food down and helped him sit up, “How are you feeling now? You gave us all quite a scare.” She slightly repeated herself, but this time, with a bit more care.

He didn’t really know how to tell her. It was on accident that he had fallen ill, but he was purposefully there to watch the moon…

“How’s the resistance?”

“The Freedom Fighters won’t give up, you know that. Much like how Sonic won’t quit complaining either.” She rolled her eyes before winking and leaning slightly closer to Soler, “At least you were knocked out before you could start whining, right?”

He snickered, “No one likes a cry-baby.”

“Ah, but everyone loves babies.” Sally joked again, “At least you’re being good. Anything hurt?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

She surprised him by placing her hand on his forehead, checking his temperature and then comparing it with her own. She moved closer and lifted the hand away, placing it down for support as she placed her forehead up against his own. He wasn’t sure if it was the fever that made his cheeks feel warm or not, but she pulled her lips back into a fine line and ‘hmm’d at the results of her investigation into his temperature. “It’s going down, which is good.”

He stared at her for a moment, the closeness between them bringing a small pulse of joy to his soul. He had to be utterly still, worried if he moved, she would also move away.

“Sally…” he begins, but the second he says her name…

“Am I not good enough?”

“Ahgh…”

Soler was the one to pull away first, feeling himself falter as Luna’s voice pierced his mind from that profound memory he had dreamed again. He hated that he was the reason the closeness between him and Sally was unbreached, but couldn’t be disgruntled about it now.

“Soler?” Sally worriedly leaned back before reaching for him.

He raised a hand, gripping the other to his head. “I’m fine. I’m fine… Sorry.” He didn’t want to explain it, but it wasn’t the physical illness that was plaguing him.

All he wanted to do was ask her. Why did guilt grip at him so much?

He didn’t want to shame his memory of Luna, his first ever love. He didn’t know whether true love was a thing or not, but he didn’t want to believe he could never find it again either.

“…You don’t have to go, do you?” she looked up, and it broke his heart to see her so upset.

“…No.” he whispered, letting the word slip out of his mouth. “I want to go, though.”

I really want to go, Luna. Please…

“Soler… do you need some more medicine? Here, at least eat something.” She got the food and placed it in front of his ducked head. He nodded, slowly reaching for it as Sally went to get some pills, dipping them in some water as they sprang out into dust. She spun the cup around, letting the particles dissolve and seem to disappear in the water.

“It’s not gonna taste great.”

Anything to drown out the pain.

He took the cup and began to gulp it down, then ate at the warm soup and licked his lips at the lingering flavor.

He didn’t want to hurt Luna again… even if it was just the memory of her.

I’m sorry, Sally. He mentally scolded himself for listening to a memory. But he couldn’t… he couldn’t refuse her again.

“Let me go, Luna? Let me go and be a good man.”

“Hoo… if you ask me, we’ve all been overworked lately.” Sally sighed before sitting on a chair on the other side of the room, kicking a leg over her other and rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Everyone has been demanding so much of us… Eggman is relentless and Shadow and Sonic still haven’t made amends about their last ‘dispute’.” She looked a little strained… this would be the perfect moment.

“You need a vacation.” Soler politely stated with a hint of humor in his gruff voice, due to his condition.

“A beautiful girl like yourself shouldn’t be working day in and day out without some sort of afternoon walk.”

She looked up at him for a moment. After processing what he stated, she smiled and rested her chin on her hand, leaning on the armrest. “Yeah, and get a cold just like you? Becoming useless to everyone for two days..?” she teased with a friendly smile.

Were we… flirting?

“I couldn’t do a vacation, maybe a break though.”

This really was the perfect moment, but before he could try and push the memory of Luna aside, trying to delicately remind himself that she wasn’t even here… but was gone, he faded off into his fever. “Would be… kinda nice… to walk with… someone…again.” his eyes drooped and he finally receded back into his deep sleep.

“Soler? Soler, are you okay?” She stood up, “Soler!” She raced to his bedside, but he could feel the sleep coming on and knew the dream would only continue where it left off.

---

Fire.

Screams had already deafened out into silence.

Soler watched as Luna was killed right before his eyes, then a vile threat from the shadowed figure, unable to be identified through the haze of the smog from the village flames and the burning that blurred Soler’s eyes.

Why did I have to go?

After the terrible events, he held Luna’s body, desperate to sense life in it.

She was gone. Not a single word of goodbye or even a reunion from being gone so long.

His emotions couldn’t handle it. He just clutched her lifeless and bleeding body in his hands. The blood was hot on his hands, but he felt numb to it. The red only blurred in the sight of the massive fog moving like a carpet that smelled of burning flesh and wood.

His eyes were half open, squinting through the tears and stinging air. He could hardly breathe. His heart was smashed under the stress, not even wanting to beat anymore, but the adrenaline kept him alive.

Red… the sky soaked the world in an endless red.

Dawn.

When everything in him finally came back to reality, he carried Luna’s body through the ash-filled village; at least, what remained of it. He continued to walk as though a ghost passing through a memory. For a moment, the village was alive again. Young men and women walked at a leisurely pace to do their chores, and the elders of the village worked their wheels or cooked their meals safely tucked away in their little homes. Life was blissful and uneventful. Was that why I had to leave?

He was entranced in his vision before his eyes twitched when his foot bumped up against something.

Looking down, he noticed he had knocked a small doll to the side, but it slowly rolled back to look directly up at Soler. Its expression was singed with black soot. What have I done?

Of course it wasn’t Soler’s fault, but he fell to his knees, gripping Luna’s body and letting her blood dry on his white fur.

He crumbled in the center of the village, leaning forward all the way till his head rested just above her side, crying out a loud, grieving mourn.

His wailing chased the birds that came to eat the corpses away, cawing at his abruptness in the now stilled morning.

How long have I been like this? How much time has passed?

Crying out in such agonized pain, he felt his voice grow sore and losing itself.

More. I have to cry more. It’s not enough!

Some lasting flames still licked at the remaining and burnable woods, straws, and yarns that were all but dust by the time Soler had arrived.

Luna… Chief… the villagers…

Gone.

---

Soler flinched awake, gasping as he felt his breath fill with clean air again. Fresh, pine-smells from the forest outside blew from the window above his low-riding bed. The dews of the last rainfall lingered in the cool breeze as he tried to get his bearings again.

The heat of that morning… it was so vivid and tangible just a moment ago. It was immediately replaced by this… this peaceful and serene morning.

His sweat made him shiver, gripping the blankets and trying to rub them against his shoulders and arms.

He felt better physically, but there was still a fever deep in his memory… a fever of Neo Metal Sonic… a recalling of past events that were now, eternally, seared into his mind.

He hadn’t had that real of a nightmare for a while. He thought—maybe, his PTSD had finally passed. He wondered for a long time while taking his walks, reading his books, training in the forest, and on the mountain sides that perhaps he could live a normal life again.

That apparently wasn’t the case.

“Aughh…” he rubbed his head, wiping his nose on his glove and looking himself over. “I need a bath.” He stuck his tongue out, disgusted at the idea of him being asleep for so many days in the same, now sweat-soaked bed.

He flipped the sheets over and began to walk towards the bathroom. Gripping the hose from atop the makeshift shower, he washed himself down and cleaned his clothes the old-fashion way. All he had were his shoes and gloves anyway, he wasn’t as lazy and inconsiderate of other people’s time as some would have supposed.

After that… he just got up and went to look for something to do. If his mind was occupied, maybe his heart would be too.

Tails and Rotor… Sally had mentioned they were getting Nicole to work on some things. He wasn’t really tech savvy, but he could hold his own in a conversation if needs be.

He decided to head over there first, and wasn’t surprised to see Sonic and Shadow peering with different expressions at the results flying through the computer screen.

Yikes… Shadow looks concerned.

He was probably the only person alive who would read Shadow’s multiple frowns. Where one may say he’s angry, Soler would say he’s just thinking. Someone could accuse Shadow of being condescending, and Soler would politely suggest he’s just showing some tough love.

Amy once thought Shadow was being rude, but Soler calmly explained he was attempting humor.

Sonic would battle with Shadow through wit and brawns, but Soler just knew that’s how they got along.

So when he saw Shadow’s face, he knew he wasn’t ticked off by Sonic’s grin, but simply worried about the results he was reading.

“You’re being too rash, Sonic.” Shadow almost growled the words out, but there was a refined elegance to his stance. He pivoted a foot toward him, removing his folded arms to gesture one out to him. This action forced Sonic to look at the movement and pay attention to his words, which made Soler smile, because Shadow seemed to also have an understanding of how Sonic worked. “If we try an all-out, frontal attack with these numbers… Some of our people may not be coming back.” He tightened his fist, showing his resolve in not losing anymore comrades.

Soler tightened the line of his mouth, not sure what he thought of that statement. If Shadow’s concerned, then this next raid must be a big deal…

“What’s to worry about?” Sonic shrugged, still happy-go-lucky as ever. “We’ve got Nicole to figure out all the possibilities and she’s already confirmed what we need is in there. We just have to use some sneak and distraction to get it out.” He wiggled his fingers down and moved them swiftly to the side, as though stating the ‘distraction’ part would be a walk in the park.

Soler decided to lean on the door post, listen for further clues before possibly saying anything.

“…Nicole.”

The voice freaked him out a moment, leaning up again from his relaxed stance and turning to see Sally stride forward, placing herself between Shadow and Sonic. She really did look regal, positioning herself right between the two different opinions of these powerful men.

“Is that machine you found really worth all this trouble?”

Sonic put a hand to his hip, tilting his head to Sally as though hoping she would side with him, but looked up to see Nicole’s answer instead.

“… I’m so sorry, Sally. But if Eggman really does complete the framework and design that Tails and Rotor showed me… it would be devastating for the entire Freedom Fighting cause. Not only would he be trying to mass-robotize whole continents with this device, but the level of fire-power in these system outlines also concludes a possible, massive war-weapon.”

“Is he that desperate to know our location?” Shadow countered, but Sonic snickered a reply as quick as blue lightning.

“Nah, he’s through trying to find our many stashed bases all over Mobius. He’s ready to just blow it all sky-high and rebuild later!” Sonic’s attitude rubbed Soler the wrong way, and he finally stepped forward.

“You should be taking this a bit more seriously, Sonic.” Defending Shadow’s end, Soler watched as Sonic and the others turned to address him.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the moon-watcher.” Sonic smiled, raising an eyebrow. “You done with your ‘light cold’ yet?”

Soler knew he was teasing him, but he still felt a little insulted. His eyelids dropped halfway to show his unamused expression as Sonic twitched at his serious response.

“Geez, you usually love my quips.” He pfft’d. “Someone’s been hanging out with Mr. Grumpy Quills too much.” He looked to Shadow. “Your boy’s up.”

“He’s not a boy, nor mine.” Shadow glared to Sonic but stepped up to Soler. “Your timing couldn’t be more perfect. We’ve got an ideal mission for your abilities. We need someone to endure Eggman’s offenses while we storm his fortress. We’re after that.” He pointed back to the screen as Nicole showed the massive fighter ship, still under construction in some areas.

Nicole then materialized in front of Sonic and Sally, stepping boldly to Shadow and Soler. “Is this really a clear plan?” She questioned, looking sheepishly scared at Shadow’s suggestion. “He’s an able fighter, but…”

“What Nicole is trying to say,” Sally about-faced, moving over to Shadow and Nicole. “Is that Soler is inexperienced and can get a little emotional when coming to his full power.”

Soler looked down, a little embarrassed she was speaking this way about him.

“Then I haven’t trained him enough.” Shadow quickly looked back at him, a true teacher’s anger as Soler felt fear spike up his spine.

Shadow gripped the top of Soler’s head, “If your last little outburst didn’t teach you patience and reason, then I have no choice but to put you through the ringer…” he started to drag Soler out the door, and knowing how awful Shadow’s routines could be, Soler knew his struggles wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Shadow’s perfectionist views this time.

“Wait-!” Sally outstretched her hand.

Oh, thank Chaos!

Sally looked kindly to Soler, “…He just recovered. I’ll talk to him. I’m the leader of the Freedom Fighters after all. I’ll judge whether he’s really ready or not.”

Shadow gave her a stern look as he slowly released Soler’s head from his firm, killer death grip.

“Very well… but if he doesn’t amount to your expectations…” He folded his arms, glaring down at Soler, as if to say- Don’t disappoint me a second time.

Soler gulped. Even after all these years, Shadow still saw him as a hopeless child.

Sonic clutched his stomach and laughed, walking over and swinging an arm around Soler. “Man! You should have seen the look on your face!”

Soler pouted, “It’s not like you haven’t had a time where Sally’s saved your butt either, Blue.”

“Hahahahaha-Watch it.” Almost as if a tick on a clock’s hand, Sonic’s charming ways shifted to a serious look of humiliation.

“Heh. Men will be boys.” Sally shook her head and then waved for Soler to follow her. “Come on, Soler. I’m ready for that ‘walk’ now.”

Soler could feel a gentle but heated blush on his face, but Sonic leaned toward his cheek with a suspicious side glance, leering on the colorful pink of his face…

“Now, what’s this..?”

“Ah! G-got to go! Can’t keep a princess waiting!” Soler quickly leaned away and dashed. Not wanting to be found out, he charged to Sally’s side.

Sonic seemed confused, but only thought about it for a moment before growing bored and shrugging it off.

Shadow walked the opposite direction away from the two, and Sally sighed after seeing him out of ear-shot. “That was close.” Sally breathed out.

“Huh?” Soler looked back at her, seeing her face light up with a short giggle.

“What do you mean, ‘huh’?” she lightly nudged his shoulder, “I mean I just saved you from Shadow, the drill sergeant.” She laughed a little more boldly now that the two of them were heading into the thick of the forest.

She touched her head and arched her arm in, really letting herself enjoy the feeling. “Man, I haven’t laughed that good in a while!”

He smiled, seeing her happy made him feel good, even if that laughter was directed at an odd circumstance…

“Hehe… What’s gotten into you, anyway? I thought you wanted to take a walk and not get involved in war affairs for a while.” She looked onward, but Soler just kept staring at her.

“That’s…” he finally looked away, uncomfortable about mentioning Sonic’s words.

“What? You really think I don’t know you well enough?” She raised a playful eyebrow, and for a moment, he realized she thought he was going to say something else.

“N-no, no. That’s not-“ Before he could say anything more, she suddenly quieted down and smiled. She closed her eyes and put her hands behind her back.

“…Hmm… Maybe I only imagine the parts of you I don’t know.” She looked up at the sky, lingering there as Soler was completely captured in how she looked. Her brown fur in the morning light made a blonde line around her body. Her red hair glistened and waved like grass along the hillside.

She finally positioned her gaze forward towards the continuing dirt path, a sorrowful expression taking root in her eyes. “I often think you’re this poor, misunderstood softie who just has a pretty hard-knock past… who doesn’t? But then I see you lose control like that… and I begin to see why Shadow takes you so seriously.”

He felt his mouth grow dry, nerves at what she was saying sinking in.

“I’m…” He looked away from her. “Dangerous, I know.”

“No, not that.” She quickly spoke out, but then corrected herself, “I mean, by all accounts, each member of the Freedom Fighters is possibly dangerous. Maybe you are destructive, but… So are the rest of us. In one way or another.” Her comforting, yet completely brash words made him slowly turn back to her.

“You’re not afraid?”

“I’m only afraid of what Eggman knows, and what I don’t know about what he knows.” She tightened her stare to a deeper resolve, and he knew he touched a nerve then.

“S-sorry.” He looked forward, realizing he should drop that subject…

She grew serious then, ducking her head down, walking with more precision and a stronger stride. “I have to be everything this resistance needs me to be… I can’t afford to be afraid. Only cautious and wise.”

Soler nodded, “I think I understand that.” He then saw the awfulness of war in her face, the sweet girl that had to pull everything back to be a vicious warrior who couldn’t pay the price of defeat.

He felt his hand reach for her, but withdrew it back to his side, rubbing his arm.

A pair of lips mouthed ‘Don’t go’ in his mind’s eye.

His eyes quaked and he froze a moment, shaking his head and gripping it to try and rid himself of the jarring memory.

“Soler?” Sally stopped walking and turned back to him, looking concerned. “Is something wrong? Was it something I said?”

He looked to her kind and compassionate expression.

…How could I leave you?

“Augh!”

Soler turned away from her, gripping his head with more force now. “Stop it!”

Sally looked confused, but carefully walked towards him with her arms out. “Soler… what’s going on? Are you hurt?”

I’m madly in love with you, too…

“Soler?”

“I’m… It’s a memory!”

“A memory?” Sally stopped, letting her foot delicately land in front of her for a second as she processed what he was saying. “Is this..?”

…Was it enough to make you stay?

“Augh…” he fell to his knees. “Luna… let me go. Let me be a good man… let me… move on.” He found himself curling up, his quills sticking out and shaking.

Sally waited a moment, but couldn’t stand watching him suffer like this.

“Soler.” She firmly stated, tightening a fist, “This isn’t real.”

His tearing eyes burst open, looking up at Sally who morphed with Luna’s image, coming towards him.

“It’s just a memory, right? It can’t hurt you, Soler… You’re not alone.” She gently sat beside him and then…

He could feel her touch.

He breathed hard, hunched over as he was, while she gently glided her fingers with a stroke against his back, lovingly calming and comforting him. “This must be a side I don’t know about you, yet.” She concluded, letting her fingers weave through his standing quills and gently encourage them to lower back down.

“I’ve seen Sonic in a cold-sweat, waking in a frenzy and heard him say it was all just PTSD from losing his uncle… But he got his uncle back… and those nightmares ended. I had almost forgotten that not all people are as fortunate.”

He looked up, and gasped when he saw a tear streaming down her face.

It was like a goddess weeping, her look of serenity. “I had to let my father and mother go, too… I often forget that feeling. It was like freedom and remorse all crammed into one, big heart.” She smiled gently as she blinked her eyes open, showing more tears falling from her strong, sweet presence.

He couldn’t help but stare, like a welcomed angel to help him through his grief.

He felt so embarrassed, having such a huge episode in front of her. He squished his face against the earth and rubbed himself into it deeper and deeper, wishing he could just barrow away and be left to his miserable self.

“I don’t deserve this.” Soler admitted, “… I deserved to die instead of-“ He found himself choking to say her name in front of Sally.

Sally seemed to understand that he didn’t want to discuss it, and removed her hand from his back, nodding with empathy. “Let’s not talk further about it then.”

She helped him up, letting him get his balance again before smiling up at him, “We can still have a nice walk after this, right?”

He was grateful for her humor, and nodded. “Please,… don’t end the journey on my account.”

She thought that funny too. “Journey? I suppose in many ways, it is.” She began to walk beside him again, just letting him catch his breath.

“…Soler, I want you to know…” she gently took his arm, seeing him stagger a moment. “I’m here if you need anything.” She looked up at him again. “Anything at all.”

For a moment, he could see a whole different world in her eyes. A world where there wasn’t death and mourning; a world where a beautiful woman and distraught man could walk through the woods and feel at peace by one another’s sides.

Then, there was a loud explosion.

The two turned immediately back to base, hearing shouting as they looked up.

Sally cried out, “Eggman! He’s already found us!”

A squadron of Eggbots and more elite soldiers suddenly dropped from the sky like metallic rain. They crashed into huts and homes, buildings and gardens, sparing nothing as they continued their onslaught.

“The plans must have been old. He’s already created his war ship!”

Soler’s eyes scanned the blasts from the robot army’s arm-canons and lasers sparking fires everywhere. The screams…

Everyone running around in horror…

He went to grip his head but stopped himself, shaking as his muscles twitched with rage and rising vengeance.

His eyes slowly narrowed down. He bolted forward, summoning his power within him and charging back to the hideout.

“Soler!” Sally wasn’t trying to stop him, only alerting him to her presence close behind him.

“Eeeevvvillll day, citizens!” A voice spoke through a speaker, ringing through the sky and to the ground. The EggCarrier was a fierce looking blimp with Eggman’s nose as its point, and his mustache as its sharp and spiked wings.

“Whohooho! Weren’t expecting company now, were you?!” Eggman’s booming voice fueled the emotions inside of Soler. He definitely didn’t care if his power was stable inside him at the moment. All Soler cared about was getting to that ship fast enough!

Suddenly, as if summoned by his desire to fight, Tails and Sonic were seen soaring at an angle in the X-Tornado. Seizing his opportunity, Soler pushed off and grabbed the tip of its wing.

“Woah!” Sonic looked to the side of him, seeing Soler.

A moment of unspoken resolve was sent across the space between them, and Sonic paused a moment to register the sheer determination in Soler’s eyes.

There was unfinished business. He needed to vent and he needed this fight. Now.

Sonic smiled, understanding the look in his eyes and lowering a hand down to him. “Well, come on then.” He spoke out calmly as Soler nodded, lifting an arm up to grip the wing better and grab Sonic’s hand.

He climbed aboard the wing next to Sonic and hung on with one hand tightly clasped down on the front edge of the wing.

He looked down to Sally, slowing her run as she gapped at his feat.

“…I’m sorry.” He lightly spoke out, but he saw her nod as though she understood the look in his eyes as well, and raced to help the village of Freedom Fighters.

“You tagging along, too?” Tails looked up and to the side, raising an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of Soler.

Sonic chuckled, looking back at Soler as he smirked.

He gave Tails a thumbs-up, “More like a stowaway. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all!” Tails looked just as fired up, but maybe in a different way. He had been cooped up with Rotor and Nicole for so long… he probably needed to let out steam and give his head a break.

“Although, this is rather a tedious mission… You sure you can keep your powers under control?” Tails inquired, but Sonic quickly interjected for Soler.

“Shadow’s his teacher, right? I’m sure he’ll be fine. I’ve fought by Soler’s side plenty of times. He’s a bro!” Sonic winked and then looked to Soler, showing some confidence in the youth. “Let me ask you something.” He said this with a humorous tone in his voice, but also with one of sincerity. “That machine we were talking about before… the massive Robotizer… Think you can use that chaos of yours to good use?”

Soler thought about it a moment. He wanted to say, ‘Absolutely!’ but he was somewhat unsure.

After all this time, he was still scared of his abilities. But now, he wanted to take courage. He wanted to be more than his nightmares.

He glared towards the EggCarrier. “Leave it to me.”

“We need something strong and sure. You ready for this?”

“…I will be.” Soler felt every fiber of his being fill with chaos power. It was almost as if the power inside of him knew how desperately he needed to prove himself. He wasn’t a ghost of his past, he was still alive. He could still fight.

Tails began to warn them, turning the plane at a sharp right to have the plane perfectly adjacent to a loading dock where some of the robots were falling from.

“Jump off here! I’ll take some out before they hit the ground!” Tails hollered out.

“Good thinking, Tails!” Sonic looked to Soler. “Ladies first.”

Soler rolled his eyes and jumped. While Sonic chuckled and jump below him, Soler smirked and grabbed Sonic’s top quill. “Then,” he spun in the air to throw Sonic into a horde of marching robots that were about to fall below. “After you!” His tactical swing was so strong that Soler forced Sonic to instinctively spin into a ball, taking out the lines of robots like a bowling ball on the loading dock.

Sonic created a path as Soler began to punch and round-house kick stragglers who managed to dodge Sonic’s attack.

Sonic kept spin-dashing, coming back to homing attack any robots aiming for Soler as Soler let out a few Chaos Spears and then showered the area inside with a Chaos Hailstorm. “HAAAAAA!!!”

The robots were stabbed through and misfired, hitting the loading dock as its side became detached.

“W-woah!” Sonic unspun and put a hand to the unstable metal, seeing the dock slide off one hinge and begin to dangle a moment from the EggCarrier.

“Soler!” he cried out, grabbing his hand and swinging him up inside the blimp.

Soler slid inside, seeing a few robots fire at him and dodged as best he could while still on the ground and holding Sonic’s hand.

“Take… this!” with his torso straining, he flung Sonic up from the edge before the boarding dock detached and began falling towards the village. Luckily, the X-Tornado took out the falling debris to be less dangerous, and Sonic spun into more of the large army.

Soler felt a laser glaze his shoulder and another fire into his side.

“Awk!” He fell to a knee, not sure which area to grab first. “S…Sonic, get out of the way!” he felt his power charging. His fingers twitched. He was going for the machine…

The machine had just started to descend, a large panel on the blimp’s floor opened in a spiral as the robots were flung out of the blimp from the powerful winds.

“Hmmm!? And what are you planning to do!?” Eggman’s voice blasted in his ears.

“I’m going to…” Soler stopped speaking a moment, looking below as the wind began to scoot his feet towards the opened hole. “Grrk…” he gritted his teeth, trying to stay upright and not get sucked into the wind tunnel.

Sonic grabbed a bar near him and looked to Soler, straining to stay upright as well. “How much time you need?”

“I…” Soler felt himself faltering. The chaos power began to rage inside of him. What was he fighting for? He just wanted to get rid of all these feelings. It was too much on him.

What am I fighting for? Luna’s memory? A future for the Freedom Fighters? Why can’t I make up my mind?

Almost at once, he saw the machine turn on, wheeling two giant gears as the beam charged.

“Soler!” Sonic cried out, “NOW!”

He heard… but he couldn’t move.

His eyes shook.

Luna…

Chief…

Shadow…

Sonic…

Sally…

He closed his fist, then his eyes, and ducked his head. The power around him was growing in unusual strength.

He shook his head, a softer side coming out of him as his face turned to one of hope.

“As long as you’re alright, that’s all that matters.”

“…Thank you.”

He could see the memory, but the voice was his own. He knew now. He knew what he was fighting for.

“Please… think of the real people around you… think of the hero you want to be… the one Luna saw in you… that day you saved her life.” Amy said.

His eyes flexed and his pupils dilated. He recounted taking that bullet for her.

His hand twitched, the light in it slowly fading away…

“This isn’t a redemption anymore.” Soler smiled, looking up with a relief he hadn’t found in years. “I have people to protect again. I have a me I want to be. I’m not meant to mope around or sob over lost stories…”

“What?” Sonic looked a little weirded out at his spoken narrative. “Look, I’m all for redemption arcs, b-but… is now really the time!?”

“I had my repentance… I had my redemption… it’s time… to save everyone like Luna and her village! Those who don’t have anyone! I’m not as useless as I used to be! I’m strong now! I’m strong enough to save everyone!” He jumped, feeling the wind take him into the line of fire.

“S-…Soler!?!?” Sonic’s eyes widened, “What the… Soler!” thinking the worst, Sonic let go and dived for him.

He didn’t make it in time.

“It’s time for my origin to end… and my new beginning… to start.” Soler smiled, thinking back on the happy times, the good moments from his past and his present. The future… never looked more beautiful.

He saw Sally in his mind’s eye, he saw Luna next to her, happily cheering him on and then looking to Sally, smiling to her and then back to Soler.

“Thank you… Luna.” He let the power soar through him, “I’ll never stop loving you… but thank you for letting me love more than I ever thought possible.”

The laser blasted out its robotic chemical beam, but as the metal began to engulf his being, losing his will…

His chaos reversed, blasting out a Chaos Canon as he shoved his half-metallic arms up at the machine, crying out just before losing all feeling in his body. “CHAOS CANNNOOONN!!!”

A huge surge of a synergy burst spread throughout the blimp, the beam was cut off from reaching the ground.

Immediately, the machine began to be coated in an extra layer of metal, as though the chaos power reverted the effects onto itself, and the machine began to malfunction and finally…

KA-KA-KABBBOOOMMMM……!!!!!!!

The sound wave sent Sonic flying back to the side of the ship. “Offph!” he slammed against the wall, but refused to give up. Thinking his friend was in need of him, he got himself off the wall and pushed off, fighting the wind-force that was continually funneling him away instead of inside the gapping hole in the middle of the EggCarrier, the exact opposite of before.

Soler felt the metal slowly chip off his skin, being revived to his normal colors from the roboticization process. He had reversed the effects… this could be huge, but he didn’t have enough strength to dwell on it further.

He could feel something launch into himself and pull him out of the blast of the crippled machine, falling in pieces, being blown off and toppling through the sky, shot into dust by the X-Tornado.

His ears were ringing with deafness. His eyes glazed as the steel-like sight returned to normal and Sonic landed on the X-Tornado.

Everyone below… are they okay? I hear… cheering… Sonic… Did you save me?

As he came too, he thought he could see a Silver-quilled hedgehog. He reached for her, seeing only Luna.

“….You did well, Soler. I’m so proud of you. Thank you… for saving everyone.”

“L…Luna…”

“Hehe! You silly, hedgehog! I’m glad you’re not hurt. Do me a favor, okay? Don’t forget what you said… I won’t.”

“I… I will protect them… Luna. For you… and for all those… I care about.”

“Good. Don’t let me down, mister!” ”Soler!”

Sally’s voice broke the trance as he saw the image fade and Sally’s blurry image race through it, falling down to his side.

Was I already on the ground? We landed safely?

“Sonic! What did you let him do!?”

“Me?! Why is it always me?! I saved his life! He was about to die in the line of fire!” animatedly, Sonic looked a bit offended but let Soler down to the ground as carefully as he could. “Hmph, it’s not like you ever worry this much about me.”

“You don’t have cosmic power that could kill you!” she gave him a side glare.

Sonic sweat-dropped a moment and awkwardly shrugged, “But I got a willful soul to worry about…”

“Impulsive, impractical-!”

“S…Sally.” Feeling bad for Sonic, Soler redirected those beautiful blue eyes back to him again.

“Soler… Are you okay? What were you thinking? You could have been robotized or worse!”

“Heh,… Good to … see you too.”

She threw her arms around him, thankful as she tried to hold her emotions within herself. “I was so worried… that you would have become… another painful memory…”

This time, there wasn’t any flashback that would pull him away from her now.

He struggled to lean up, but he willed his body to do so, tucking an arm around her and holding her closer to himself. He rested his head next to hers, hearing her light gasp as she felt his presence more strongly now.

“I promise you, too, Sally… I will be a living memory of how merciful the world can be.”

Sally’s eyes couldn’t hold back the tears.

“Sorry to worry you.”

Sonic stepped back a moment, seeing the two’s interaction, he began to look a little worried himself…

“Is it just me… or did you two get a little… close all of a sudden?” He seemed a bit apprehensive.

Sally glared up at him, “At least he can openly talk deep with me. Unlike some boys I’ve dated.”

“Hey!”

It wasn’t long after that, when Soler finally found a safebox that he hand-painted himself, and put Luna’s necklace in it. He dug a pretty good hole near the hill he star-gazed and admired the moon on, placing the box in it and marking it as a much needed grave for her.

With her body so burnt up, there wasn’t much too bury last time… this was much more peaceful and freeing for him.

So many bodies… at least this was a proper farewell.

This is the least I can do for you… Luna.

He gently bent down and kissed the ground he had just thrown over the box. Leaning up, he looked at the sky, seeing no moon tonight…

“Sleep well… Luna.” He wiped a tear from his eye and walked back to town, hoping to help out in repairing the damages.

Getting back, he hoisted a log with others over his shoulder and began to carry it to its designated site… Then Sally caught his attention.

She seemed to be giving directions and orders, holding a clipboard and checking it often before giving anymore feedback.

He smiled, it gave him strength.

On the way back to get some more lumber, he noticed her wipe her forehead and sit down by a stump, looking exhausted.

It’s time.

He took a deep breath, shaking off the thought of how sweaty and gross he was from lifting and moving large logs all day. He approached her and offered her his hand.

She noticed the crossed black stripes that made an ‘X’ in his glove and looked up.

“I think it’s time for that vacation now.” He charmingly stated.

She smiled, accepting his hand and getting up. “You know… it’s been hard since I left Sonic, but… You’re different, Soler. I feel different with you. In a lot of good ways, n-nothing bad! Ohh…” she hid behind a hand, and the cute retreat from the comment made him blush with an even bigger grin.

“You just… You let emotion sit with you and carry you to new discoveries, Soler. It’s one of the most powerful things about you, your quality of just… surviving through the strength you receive from your past. I know it must be painful, but I admire your strength so much…”

She saw that as strength!?

He was in complete awe at her words.

“I’ve noticed… how much you try and help. How dedicated you are to not losing another friend or fight. You always get up. You never just sink down so far that you can’t find yourself again… sometimes… I feel that’s exactly what I do.” She removed her hand and balled it up, looking away.

Soler then realized that maybe Sally was hurting in a different way from himself. His was a lot more physically affecting his life. Maybe… Sally’s was deeper inside, something that she would never let close to the surface.

His empathy for her skyrocketed, he couldn’t help but pull her a bit closer, move her hand from her face and have her turn to him.

She was amazed at his bold move, but it didn’t seem to miss its point…

“Sally… I don’t want you to suffer. Especially alone… Just like you told me, you can talk to me, too. You can rely on me. I’ve learned the hard way how to hold something in for so long, letting it fester and grow into something ugly and tragic… and I want to help you break out of that habit. It’s so easy to slip into despair… but the people we love don’t want us to feel despair. They want us to be liberated from the pains we hold onto. They want us to remember their best selves…” his voice was full of honest experience, of good intent, and of wisdom beyond his years.

Sally let out a soft sigh, lowering her eyes and letting a small, pleading smile escape her composure. “I like this about you, too… The side of you that lets people feel and experience pain… but also offering yourself to be apart of that pain so they can release it. I’ve seen you help others, but never help yourself. I wanted to help you, I just… didn’t know how.”

He looked to her hand, his around her wrist, and slowly… begins to bring his fingers up to hers and gently, sweetly… enticing them to let go of their tension and uncurl, letting him in.

“Sally… May I ask you on a date?”

She giggled, but looked to their hands intertwining.

“Yes. I’m excited to see what I say.” She teased, and Soler couldn’t help but let out a nervous chuckle. He was falling in love again, and it was different, just like Sally said.

But it was also very reassuring… and very… relieving.

“I’m excited to see where this new path takes me.” He holds her hand tenderly, and the two of them start to walk off together.

I’m so thankful… That I can now share my emotions with others. Because I have had this pain, I can understand them more than ever before. I can love more deeply, care more sincerely, and cherish those things that I’m allowed to keep. I can hold them close, closer to my heart than I was ever willing to do before. I won’t leave the places where I belong, or desert the hearts I have sworn to protect.

The two seemed very happy with their new relationship, watching it take form over the time they’ve shared together. Soler looked up at the spot where the moon would be again.

Luna, I will thank you till I have no breath left to utter, no thought left to think. You’ve shown me a better path and how to truly care about people. I’m sorry for what happened, but I will never be sorry for meeting you, the Chief, and your village. You helped me open up to the world, meet amazing people, like those that could teach me and those who could support me. They’re all such great people, you would have love them.

This time, He gripped Sally’s hand more, pulling his head towards her as she returned the kind gesture by letting her nose lightly bump against his own. A faint blush formed on both their muzzles. I’ll protect the things and people I love… under your watchful, relaxed, night sky’s eye…

The next day, the moon returned. It’s dark grey shapes shifted to look as though a smiling face…

( Here’s the song I’ll be referencing for this little wrap up >//w//< https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qgmXPCX4VzU Photograph by Ed Sheeran)

Loving can hurt, loving can hurt sometimes

Luna is walking behind Sally and Soler, her hands happily behind her back, laced together as she giddily follows them and then stops. She lifts a leg a little bit, swaying as she lets them walk off,… alone. But it's the only thing that I know… When it gets hard, you know it can get hard sometimes It is the only thing makes us feel alive

Flashback to Soler having his nightmares, but he gets up and walks out to the hallways and knocks on Sally’s door. She opens it and immediately touches his head. It’s pounding and she lovingly kisses it, closing her door and holding his hand, walking out with him and cheerfully trying to take his mind off things to avoid further PTSD.

We keep this love in a photograph We made these memories for ourselves

Luna’s necklace still glows in the buried box, showing many shapes of the moon, time going by. Where our eyes are never closing Hearts are never broken And time's forever frozen still

A memory is shown with Soler, much younger, sitting on a hill next to Luna. Their two heads turn into each other, as if the village never burned and no one ever died.

So you can keep me Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans Holding me closer 'til our eyes meet You won't ever be alone,…

wait for me to come home

There’s a flash of light and Soler is heading off down the road, he holds onto her necklace, he turns and sees Luna trying to keep face. He waves, and puts her necklace in his gloves. As he does, the world shifts to a blazing fire behind him, his eyes red from tears, his gloves dirtied from the many graves he had to dig…

Loving can heal, loving can mend your soul And it's the only thing that I know, know

It’s modern day again, Sally and Soler are laughing and enjoying a meal together. She holds up something for him to eat and he goes to get it with his mouth, but she pulls the fork away, playfully laughing as he pouts. I swear it will get easier Remember that with every piece of you Hmm, and it's the only thing we take with us when we die

He offers her the gesture, when she goes for it, he withdraws the food and kisses her. She embarrassingly flings back and then starts to playfully whack and throw food at him. He laughs and the food fight continues. Then there’s a shift to another time, the two sitting beside one another as their loved ones start to resurface as faded images behind them.

Hmm, we keep this love in this photograph We made these memories for ourselves Where our eyes are never closing Hearts were never broken And time's forever frozen still

The images show Sally as a child, with her loving parents and other friends she’s made and lost along the cruel way towards freedom. Soler has the Chief and Luna, along with many other faces of cheery people he met on his travels. A time where they never knew loss or heartache… but the memories are all pleasant, not a single one is sad or upsetting.

So you can keep me Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans Holding me closer 'til our eyes meet You won't ever be alone

Soler helps Sally put her jacket on, she thanks him and takes up Nicole’s portable device. She turns to him and leans up on her tippity-toes. He does the same and she sighs, frustrated before they briefly kiss and she goes on a mission. He gets antsy, bouncing a bit before charging after her, swooping her up and rushing off on the mission with her.

And if you hurt me That's okay baby, only words bleed Inside these pages you just hold me And I won’t ever let you go

There’s a flash where Soler is holding Luna’s lifeless body, then suddenly he’s reaching for a wounded Sally… She reaches back to him, struggling to breathe as he shifts his chaos energy and blasts the area. Sally is unharmed as he picks her up. She smiles and touches her hand to his cheek, a single stream of tears starts down one of his cheeks, glad to see she’ll be okay. Wait for me to come home Wait for me to come home

Luna is playing hide and seek, peeking over a tree’s trunk as Soler chases after her. Wait for me to come home Wait for me to come home

Instead of Luna, Sally emerges to lean up against the tree, being caught by Soler as he slows the pace down and moves up to her, watching as she presses her back to the tree. He studies her eyes and then her mouth… leaning forward and closing his eyes…

Oh, you can fit me Inside the necklace you got when you were sixteen Next to your heartbeat where I should be Keep it deep within your soul

Luna’s necklace is around Soler’s neck, he’s holding Luna’s hand, she takes her necklace back and kisses him, putting it on herself and holding it close to herself. It means the world to her. He nods, letting her keep it.

And if you hurt me Well, that's okay baby, only words bleed Inside these pages you just hold me And I won’t ever let you go

Soler wakes up from a nap on the same hill, star-gazing when he sees the bright full moon. He then looks over, worriedly for a moment, when he relaxes at seeing Sally sleeping silently beside him, just resting by him as well.

When I'm away, I will remember how you kissed me

His memory takes him to Luna, but it rapidly flashes to Sally, sticking there. Under the lamppost back on Sixth street

The two close the gap between each other, holding hands. Hearing you whisper through the phone

Sally chickens out and shakes her head, laughing and holding her hands to her cheeks. Soler tries to get in for one last kiss goodnight but she shakes a finger at him and starts to run off. He snaps his fingers, rushing after her back to the hideout. "Wait for me to come home"

His ear flicks, as if hearing something and turns to see the moon appearing to sit on the hill. Its shadow looks like a figure of a girl, Luna..?

Sally calls for him and he turns back around, sorrowfully deciding not to look back, but knowing time will heal the wounds left in his heart. He smiles and lovingly takes Sally’s hand as they walk back to the hideout. He kisses her hand and she lightly hits his shoulder, bumping her hip into his as though shy. He looks forward, unafraid and undaunted by the moon behind him.

He knew it was only saying goodnight to him.

FIN

#cutegirlmayra #solerthewolf21 #commission examples #soler the hedgehog #sonic oc commission #me commissions

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