#something about spiralling and isolating yourself from everyone and stuff

[moonchild-in-blue]

Everyone clap, I actually went out with friends instead of being sad alone 👏👏

[hanniescookie]

too many hobbies - YJH

pairing - jeonghan x f!reader

genre - domestic au, fluff

warnings - use of pet names (baby for reader, hannie for jh), kissing, pure fluff, mentions of mild insecurities, and uhm yeah that's it ig

summary - everyone around you seems to be soaring, traveling and building perfect lives while you're surrounded by the love of your many hobbies that leaves you feeling a little confused at times. luckily, jeonghan is there to not let you feel insecure.

author's note - second fic and i'm sooo nervous even though i've been writing for 7 years already 😭 anyway, this is for the bbangi to my shingi @kissbyoon / baby you deserve all the love 🤍 i'm ltr sharing jeonghan w you so like gimme some love 😔☝🏻

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You slump tiredly into your couch for the first time in a while, closing your eyes as the setting sun reflects on your face from the large window. It's not everyday that your energy goes down, but inevitably, there are days like today when you want to isolate yourself from the world just a little bit.

The living room of your apartment is still messy with all the stuff — papers, scissors, crayons, and stationary of all sort — that you were using to make your boyfriend a gift card.

Your eyes scan all the stuff, and most importantly, the pretty purple and white gift card you completed before leaving for the dance studio. It looks meaningless now, not even slightly pretty to your eyes.

All you can think about is how your dance colleagues talked about their life plans a while ago – how their words sent you in a spiral of uncertainty about your own life.

"You all, please pray I pass the audition. Not for another second am I going to waste my time here!"

"You will! Trust yourself. I thought I was going nowhere until I got my job."

"But I have come to terms with the fact that dancing here won't get me anywhere, I'm probably gonna make use of my degree and apply at the law firm."

"Well of course, I just can't sit with my hobby for a lifetime. I'm pushing my age already, so I'm hoping for my promotion."

It isn't like you to ponder over words, but this conversation did make you feel overwhelmed. Maybe you are being sensitive, but seeing everyone else talk about their sorted life makes this mess in your living room a lot suffocating than it is.

You reach out, holding the gift card in your hands and staring at it for a while. It speaks ugly words to you — pointing fingers at you and calling you a loser.

Your fingers involuntarily curl into it, almost about to rip it apart when a pretty voice breaks your reverie.

"Oh my baby!!! Did you make that for me? Show me!"

Jeonghan appears beside you out of nowhere, making you blink at him in surprise as the card is nearly snatched from your hand. The awe on his face makes your heart soften. He reads the card — all silly little messages you had scribbled in there — his contagious smile broadening on his face.

Before you can say anything, he has wrapped you in his arms, squishing you into his large frame. "Why are you soooo sweet? What if I cry?"

You end up smiling against his chest, wrapping your arms around him with a sigh. He has managed to wash away any negative emotions you were facing a while ago so easily. "We all know you're not gonna cry that easily, hannie."

He pulls away just enough to meet your eyes, a constant smile plastered on his lips. "I appreciate that you know me well, but I fear you're not entirely aware of how much I love these little things you do."

Something in your chest flutters as your smile dims slightly, staring at this loveable man and his comforting existence. He didn't even need to give you a whole speech about how it's good that you're on your own pace, and you're doing great in life (he can provide you with words of affirmation if needed) yet you're already feeling like none of people's words matter. Because you're reminded of the fact that you're indeed exactly where you're meant to be, and you'll be where you're meant to be in the future too.

You press a feather-light kiss to his nose, "What little things?"

He grins, returning the gesture with a more firm kiss than yours. "These little gifts you make me. But that's not all I love about you, you know? I love all that you do. Your dance, your impromptu shower singing, those stories you write in your laptop — I love all of it. Never quit on any of your hobbies. They make you, you."

It isn't like you to cry easily as well, but when you feel the sight of your pretty boyfriend blurring a little, you know you have tears in your eyes. He furrows his brows, instant concern spreading all over his features.

His hand cups your cheek softly. "Baby? What's wrong? Did I say something wrong?"

You sniff, and close your eyes for a second so the tear residing there falls past your cheek. Then you shake your head. "Never." You breathe. "You can never say anything wrong, hannie. In fact, you only ever say everything right. Everything to make me feel special."

He doesn't seem convinced given that he still doesn't smile. He just continues to look at you, trying to detect signs of distress. "Baby—"

You giggle a little, moving to wrap your arms around his neck. "Don't worry. I just got a little emotional because of what you said. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

You nod, feeling his thumb wipe at the lone tear that had fallen before he finally breaks into his signature teasing grin. "Who's the one easily crying now?"

You roll your eyes despite the smile on your face, "Stop being so cocky."

"You love it." He grins, kissing you briefly because he couldn't resist it. You hum, and chase his lips the moment he pulls away. He wants to tease, but right now he's going to give you what you want so he smiles and kisses you back.

If it's with Jeonghan and his gravitational comfort, you know you'll get everywhere you want to be in life.

[apenapaperandadoofus]

Yes, I agree with you. Some things can only be truly understood when you put yourself in someone else’s shoes. Xie Lian was spoiled in some ways and doted upon by his parents; he was a prince. But I’d argue that there’s also something to be said about how Mu Qing and Feng Xin treated Hong Hong’er, and how the “one cup of water and two people” question ties into not just class inequality from above, but also how even those beneath the social hierarchy can internalize class bias. The system affects everyone. Xie Lian was kind and humble, but he also used to say, “I want to save the common people.” I saw a post suggesting that “common people” referred to those beneath the crown, and while his belief in saving everyone was sincere, he was also overconfident and self-righteous in thinking he could carry the burden all on his own. He had heart, but not experience. He was only 17. The Xianle arc shows his complicated relationship with the crown and with himself. Honestly, I liked Jun Wu’s prince arc more in some ways. He was more mature when things hadn’t yet spiraled out of control , or maybe the situation was just different. Civil wars are much harder to write about. I admired Xie Lian for not wanting to unleash the plague on the Yong’an people, but at the same time, I felt frustrated with how things unfolded. Yes, it was Jun Wu’s doing he wanted Xie Lian completely isolated but Xie Lian also had little to no experience as a prince, since he spent most of his time cultivating and disliked how his father handled politics. During those years, he began to understand why people steal, why they drink...swear, how everyone has their own life and path, and why sometimes, people must separate. And yet, even through all of that, we have Hua Cheng someone who would stay for him even after death, even when his soul was on the verge of destruction, just to stand by his side eternally.

If you ask me Mei Nianqing is a character who, like many elders, won’t easily listen to the younger generation because he sees them as naive. It was also Xie Lian who vouched for Mu Qing. The thing is, MNQ is a Guoshi, and even as a prince, Xie Lian’s role was technically beneath that. In many Asian cultures, your teacher or guru holds the highest status. You can challenge their ideas, but you can’t use your authority against them.In some ways, I do think Xie Lian could’ve done more. But from his position, he saw the problems as linear. He believed that if he, as a prince, took people under him and used his status or eventually became a god things would be resolved. I give him credit for standing up to his father, the king, and questioning him. But in reality, issues like these are much deeper and more complex. One person alone can’t bring about change. These kinds of problems require society as a whole to come forward and address them together.

He learned the true meaning of his stance on “one cup and two people” by distributing his own luck to those less fortunate after his second banishment, and he refused to take off the two shackles that brought him misfortune because they reminded him of Wu Ming—a ghost with no name, his last believer—who destroyed his own soul for Xie Lian as a result of Xie Lian having once thought of taking it out on innocent people for things orchestrated by White No-Face.

BTW, it was nice talking to you, and I really like your posts about your mom reacting to TGCF , they are my favorite. I wish I could also share this type of stuff with my family, especially my mom, but it’s just hard for me. People here still aren't very open about these things. Have a good day!

Oh yes! There’s also the fact Mu Qing is also in his way classist- everyone in the book, in Xianle, seems to place importance on class, like XLs father, they seemed to grow in that environment.

Like I said, I think XL is a case of both- he sometimes does things he doesn’t realize arent helping the cause but that’s mostly bc of ignorance- while I do think he has a really optimistic look to change the way people view the whole class situation, it’s a bit wonky since he hasn’t experienced being of a lower class or station, so maybe what he thinks could help could actually cause more harm.

I really wish we could have learned more about Jun Wu! If he was a lot like XL when he was a prince, but got to live a bit longer (I think? I think JW ascended younger but he spent longer as a god didnt he? Correct me if I’m wrong) I wonder how he had matured as a god, and what his choices then would have been.

I think his story is really tragic- obviously it doesn’t justify what he did to XL, but imo the heavens back then totally deserved to be turned into sidewalks pFT. I think it’s so sad how someone who clearly cared so much for his people was practically driven crazy by not only heaves, but because of the betrayal of his people themselves.

I know some people don’t like that Jun Wu didn’t get killed (I’ve seen some) but I think (not to justify his actions btw) that eventually the prince he was got buried behind the hurt and evil exterior. I think the Jun Wu that wanted to save the common people is still there, just like when XL was white no face, but buried underneath the hate, and sadly, unlike XL he wasn’t able to have someone place a bamboo hat on his head, or a Hua Cheng to show him otherwise.

Which thinking of it like that- because we saw it with XL, which was kind of what Jun Wu went through, I think it’s tragic because Jun Wu clearly just goes fuck it we ball, and buries it all out of anger. So I hope, even if it was late, that after being sealed in mount tonglu, being with MNQ slowly unburied the starry eyed prince from before- or rekindles the flame. Once again, not justifying his actions and I don’t think I’d like him to reconcile with XL, far too much trauma there, but I hope he personally gets to grow and become at peace. While he can’t undo the insane damage he did, he at least won’t do anymore? Lmao. I just hope he regains his love for humanity, no matter how long it takes. After all, even he was shaped by the terrible heavily officials before him (again not justifying mass genocide -the old heavens deserved it tho- or traumatizing XL) but he was kind of driven to that madness also by being around terrible, greedy people, and facing betrayal by the people he’d worked so hard to protect :(

Maybe it’s because I’m someone that can’t forgive easily (cough Hua Cheng cough) but I give SO many props for XL for not destroying Yong’an. Obviously it’s easy for me to say “oh I would have ended it all!” But yknow just like XL with the lower class when he’s a prince, I can’t 100% say I know what it would feel like ahshs

But seriously I remember admiring XL so much- I was angry for him and at that moment when I first read I was still angry (since I read everything in one go the 100 swords and everything else’s feelings hadn’t had time to fester lol) so I was like “crap no! Destroy them! Get your revenge they deserve it!” But then XL did it- and most would see it in like…such a Mary Sue way? Like in movies where the hero can kill the villain but doesn’t because “oh the goodness of my heart I would never go to your level because I’m so kind and righteous” and it’s kind of annoying bc you KNOW a normal person wouldn’t do that and that it’s because the author doesn’t want the audience to think the MC is evil! Or has any flaws!

But with XL it feels natural. I didn’t think oh the author did this because XL is such a Mary Sue and is ALWAYS so kind like a Disney Princess (I do think he’s a Disney Princess lmao) but you actually see him crash out before- you see him get mad and that’s what makes the forgiveness more bittersweet because you might be mad- but you see why XL at the end doesn’t destroy Yong’an- it’s not because the author was afraid to show XLs bad side- in fact MXTX shows us all of humanities flaws with her chats characters in a realistic way that I love because I feel like media nowadays is afraid to have characters that have flaws, that have ugly sides, just like we normal people do.

I love seeing XL at his kindest moments because they mean more after seeing his angriest ones. The kindness he shows is ten times more meaningful and significant because you have seen him be angry- you have seen him make mistakes and let his feelings consume him. But that’s what makes him so lovely- because you see it all and what shapes him, and you understand he’s just someone who had to grow up too quickly and was set up to fail, but is still kind.

And I love that’s what HC loves about him because people see flaws as something ugly- when they’re what makes us humans. Obviously we can work on ourselves, but we will have flaws no matter what, no one can be perfect. And the fact MXTX makes them gods, when usually religions make their deities be such perfect beings (except the Greeks I believe which is why I loveeed reading about them when I was wrong, the gods seemed like what I would think actual gods would act like- prideful, overconfident, etc etc) and MXTX shows even they have flaws which aaaaa I looooove

I actually did not know in Asia teachers or guoshis were held to such a high status actually! I thought even if he was the teacher, since XL was a prince he would have more power but it doesn’t seem like it, that’s so interesting! Then it makes more sense as to why maybe XL couldn’t directly speak to him, or change his mind so easily, I understand! My apologies for not knowing before! I still think since like you said, he stood up to the king he wouldn’t be afraid to step up to MNQ, but maybe there’s the fact XL was in a bad place with his father and Guoshi at the time took a more parental figure whom he respected.

And of course, I loved talking to you too! Feel free to message me or drop an ask about whatever you want to talk about! I love needing out over books and media, even if sometimes views don’t align I love reading and even arguing (respectfully) the points of view! I hope I was able to correctly articulate my thoughts haha, sometimes words be hard 😭

It really sucks you aren’t able to share something you like, I hope you’re able to someday :( if you want, you can talk to me, I’d love to hear you out 🥰

I’m happy you enjoyed my mom’s silly reactions, they made me laugh and I’m glad it made others as well!

Have a great day! Sending you tons of hugs 🤗

[dr-spectre]

WE DID IT!!!!!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE!!!!! This is such a big milestone. Halfway until 1000 followers... that's absolutely insane!!

This will be the last follower update until we reach 1000. But, I wanna share something special with you all and get rather personal...

So, about a year ago, I wanted to learn how to draw because I was feeling depressed about "not being productive enough." Basically I got sucked into the bullshit productivity self help stuff that wants to turn your life into a cold calculated work obsessed nightmare, rather than living in the moment due to fear mongering about the future and how "if you don't grind now you WILL be a failure and die alone and get no pussy." (No wonder I picked Team Present for the Grand Fest...)

Plus I dropped out of uni at the time and welp, to put it lightly, I was feeling fucking god awful and I was scared into basically "putting in the hard work" by all these self help channels and other bullshit online. Whatever the FUCK that vague shit means, my autistic brain still doesn't get it.

It was BY FAR the worst period of my life, but, at least I tried to do SOMETHING. And I wanna show you all some of the things that I drew last year....

This was between October 2023 to February 2024. I stopped drawing due to it causing me much frustration and anger.

So yeah! Uh... enjoy?

So.... not the best work you've seen, right? HAHAHAHAHA!

Would you freak out if I told you that I got upset and damaged a book and a fan because I got so mad at myself over not being able to draw or do anything right?...

I feel like this ain't for me, and you know what? That's okay! I've learnt that it's okay to try new things, it's okay to experiment and if shit doesn't work then it doesn't work. Plain and simple. It's perfectly fine to give up and try something else.

You are not a robot, you are a human being. Don't feel like you "gotta do something everyday otherwise you'll die alone and you'll be broke and you'll never be successful and you'll be forgotten!!"

Do feel pressured to feel like you have to "find your thing" or "be productive" or whatever kind of... heh.... BRAINWASHING you hear online.

I wanted to draw because I was jealous of others, including my friends who are skilled artists... and I did it for the wrong reasons which is why I stopped in February.

I am very happy that I've decided to actually focus on what i like doing and what gives me energy. A quote that has stuck with me for years now is a quote by Jordan Peele from an interview, and it's basically this-

"Follow the fun." And you know what? He's right. Following what gives you that good good boost of dopamine while also feeling like you're accomplishing something is one of the best feelings EVER!!!! Whether it's art, writing, modelling, sculpting, architecture, making music, acting, clay sculptures, etc. FOLLOW THE FUN!! FOLLOW THE SHIT THAT EXCITES YOU!!! I literally always have multiple projects spiralling around in my head all the time and cycling between them at every given moment.

I'm not even saying do only what makes you comfortable or be lazy either, do shit that makes you go "BRING IT ON!!!! I WANNA DO THIS!!!" Get that blood pumping!!! Challenge yourself fairly!!!! There's healthy and unhealthy stress. Healthy stress should make you feel like a fucking PREDATOR!!! AN ANIMAL ON THE HUNT!!! While unhealthy stress makes you feels like you're the prey, the one who's being chased by an unknown force that's out to get you!!

I feel like I'm kinda rambling... anyways!!! ENOUGH WITH THE INSPIRATIONAL BULLSHIT!!! THANK YOU ALL!!!!!! 99% of you have been awesome and incredible!!!

It's also been an honor to get to know so many people who feel the same way as I do about a certain squid lady and her best friends.... before I went onto tumblr I genuinely felt so alone and so insane. I felt isolated, I felt like no one saw these characters the way that I do... I thought my perspective of a certain squid lady and her rebel phase was invalided and false... But now I know that I have people who have my back and understand what I'm trying to express...

One final time, thank you. I'll keep going.

STAY FRESH!!!!!!!!!!

[redactedgeek]

a love letter to You and I

To the unfortunate ✨🥀 (or most fortunate 😌🌻 - perhaps neutral? 👀🌱) Soul who sees this:

I wonder what sort of state You’d consider yourself in… The possibilities are thought-wringing. Yes 🙂. Thought-wringing cx

This… may be an attempt to do a life check-in. Sooo, if you’d like to do one with me, please feel free -^u^- 🌸

aight c: Status report: Overwhelmed at everything. Not doing well; multiple breakdowns in a single week alone. Saw burnout from a distance, and promised to treat self with unconditional love, and did best not to take anything out on others. Positive at beginning and “keeping head up.” Proud of self for coming this far [;before, I beat myself up every time I wasn’t able to do what I felt I “needed” to do. Now, I accept that sometimes I do get knocked down, and I allow it to happen, and I do my best to heal while my theoretically burning body lays there].

I am a fool 🤧. For laying there and not rolling around [sometimes I lay in bed, on my phone for hours and declare that “rest” :’) ]. For not yelling out for help or in pain [lashing out because I keep holding everything in; regardless of the reason, I know I haven’t done my part to communicate 😔]. For patching up the wounds and expecting it to be better immediately, moving in such a way that the wounds open up again so it takes even longer to heal than if I had cared for the wound [isolating, and then coming out of isolation from fear-based reasons instead of from actually taking care of myself, so I isolate even more because I’m so exhausted running on negative stress-adrenaline ☹️].

There are two - perhaps three or four? - options I can choose from about what can I do with the above-information:

A: Conclude I can never do anything right and allow that to define me as a person and continue spiraling in the unalchemized darkness. “I try and it doesn’t work. I can’t do anything right. 😀👍✨”

B: Conclude that while I have work to do on the way that I do some things, I acknowledge that I am doing my best with what I have and what I know. Each time I am knocked down, I have an opportunity to be still, reflect on my experiences, and learn what works and what doesn’t. “I tried, and while that didn’t work, this did. I can do more of this and see if it works more. 😌💕”

X: Conclude that I am tired, I just wanna have a good time now, and I push this to future me to handle this because [think nihilism]. “Hey, Ego, here’s something for you [quick fix: ‘you’re doing your best, everyone makes mistakes. Just don’t think about it and move on. It’s fun to be silly li’l guy anyway.] 🤭”

Y: Conclude that each and every one of these are options that are valid, fluid, and each have their own unique consequences. I don’t judge choices that people make because I understand and each of us are on our own made-perfectly-for-us journeys (which I think is wonderful and amazing because we are all embarking on our paths on this Earth together! On the same planet and stuffs! And no matter what we might believe, we’re not alone!), and I should allow myself that same, nonjudgmental freedom >×< I conclude that, since I love myself, I do my best to carry out options that I would hope a loved one carries out. I want the best for my loved ones, and so I want the best for myself. And I hope… by sharing this… this helps more precious souls too uwu 👉👈💕

Now, refer to the beginning. What sort of state are You in? What are you going to do (or not do) with it? :] genuinely curious

[Whatever your answer is, I send you so much love, I wish for you the support You specifically need at this time. And we shan’t forget - there is an abundance of blessings within and all around us! I hope hope hope you accept the blessings meant for You. 143 infinity style ❤️‍🩹♾️]

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

I ACCEPT THE SUMMONS THIS IS BRILLIANT

*ahem*

The MV opens up with shots of Tyler sleeping uneasily, while the chorus plays, prefacing the song and what it's about. Walking the layout of your own mind as a routine done at night when there is nothing left to distract you and you are faced with your own thoughts and darkness. And as you wander, you stumble across the doors that say STAY OUT, which could either represent the boundaries in his mind that God has set for him to not enter, or ones that Tyler has set for himself- but I think the only way he'd ever set a boundary for himself given his nature is if God influenced him to do so, so its really just the first option.

The VERY notable thing in this first shot is that he's not wearing his paint. He's in his bed, intentionally trying to rest, even if he isn't able to do so fully, and we don't see the obvious symbols of his insecurities with what he creates and his overwhelming feeling of suffocation. This is important. Because then we see the blurry hand of what is assumedly Blurryface, yanking Tyler up into that shot of Tyler then in the walls of his own mind, now wearing his paint as he then goes through the rest of the song.

But then through the rest of the song, it keeps cutting back to Tyler in bed, actually trying to sleep, even though his mind is going nuts. Still intentionally trying to rest, while he stumbles around with Torchbearer (God, specifically, the Holy Spirit) in his mind. And you are SO RIGHT about the whole thinking about intentionally or stumbling into on accident of God in your head. (Read this excellent post by everyone's favorite @artist-issues about Addict With A Pen for more on that point, it slaps)

The rest of the song then goes to show the same thoughts spinning over and over again in a circle. Feeling lonely and isolated, stumbling around your metal landscape as you are faced with yourself and your flesh and terribleness, and being faced with God over and over again- finding Him in your thoughts on purpose and thinking about Him without acknowledging Him, or even trying to avoid Him but God being there anyway. Because He loves you and has chosen you and is waiting for you to chose and accept Him in your struggle.

And then at the end of the song, Tyler is actually woken up, for real this time. By Josh, I assume. And if my assumption is correct, then when he finally does actually wake up out of his own head where he's spinning around with no clear path or purpose, its by the person who draws Tyler closer to God.... if I'm actually right about them and their friendship and how Josh is depicted in the music and it all means what I want it to mean.

But assuming that I am, that's a stellar analogy. By yourself, you almost never, if at all, have the power or ability to stop yourself from a spiral. You need something or someone to help you out. And if here he's showing his Christ-fearing closest friend pulling him out of his own mind to point him back to the Truth and the source of truth- that's incredibly fantastic.

And you know what else being woken up represents when you've been anxiously thinking all night? A CYCLE BREAKING. VERY GOOD STUFF HERE.

something something RITN something something, Torchbearer being in the walls of Clancy's head. Yes the darkness is too, but the beat that keeps the song going is there, because TB holds it together and when you search for hope TB is there and when you don't search for him, TB is still there. Oh and the petals on the desk? Yeah that's remnants of the light you know. something something, i know someone out there *cough* (@sunkissedliterarylightofchrist) *cough* can probably take this and run with it much better than I can. Really tho anyone feel free to add on.

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

I get what you mean, re that post about feeling sad/weird when a woman you think is also a lesbian has a boyfriend. In a similar boat, i'm in my late 20s and my friends are getting married and I feel more isolated than ever, especially since some of these friends identified as lesbians when I met them but then "met the one man"/met their "exception". I can't say anything about it without sounding like an asshole and I truly am happy for them finding love, but I feel like something is wrong with me. I don't know a single lesbian in real life anymore. I feel very alone.

I’m so sorry you are going through this anon. I know I can’t take this pain away, and I know I can’t fix anything, but please know I hear you and I’m sending you lots of love 💕 And I hope with all my heart that this is something that doesn’t weigh you down and hurt you forever. I know that’s easier said then done, but I hope it for you none the less. And I believe in you. I believe in you so much. You’ve got this and I just know you’ll find happiness, in whatever form that may take. It may take a while, and maybe it won’t end up looking like everyone else’s , and that’s a whole other bucket of hurt I know, but regardless I know deep down you WILL find happiness. It’s such a shame lesbians have to be so strong , and I wish we didn’t have to be, BUT we are made of sturdy stuff. You are a blessing solely and fully just as you are - you are beautiful, and the happiness you build for yourself one day will be just as equally beautiful. I know it will. But until then, I’m sending you my love and giving you the biggest air hug I possibly can. Being a lesbian is so hard sometimes, but I like to think that maybe it’s so heavy because the blessing are worth it. And I hope your future happiness is worth it - however that may look. And I hope you are able to find either people or places that let you be weak, so you don’t have to be strong anymore. So you can be soft and relish in the comfort and beauty of your personhood. 💕💕💕

I also 100% get what you mean on those conflicting emotions. Because on the one hand it’s so wonderful these people have found and have gotten to a place where they accept and understand their sexuality in it’s entirety. And obviously we aren’t owed anything from them. BUT in saying that it can be really lonely seeing people who once though we’re like you be able to enter a type of love you don’t understand. I can’t speak for you, but I know for me it can spend me into a spiral sometimes over if there is something I’m just not doing right to be attracted to men. And obviously thats no ones fault. It’s just a sad side affect of the world we live in.

And I can imagine for you it’s especially hard since you don’t know any single irl lesbians. I’m in the same boat as you. I’m still sort of in the pit where seeing lesbian couples can make be feel pretty low. Like looking at someone who won the lottery and just thinking that’s never going to be me, there isn’t anyone left. Everyone is already taken or not like me. And that sucks. It really does. And I’m sorry you feel that way too. I know it might not mean an awful lot coming from me, considering my rants lol, but there isn’t anything wrong with you. You are okay just as you are. I can’t promise you love or relationships and I can’t take that pain away, and you are allowed to feel angry and sad and cheated over that, but thing I can promise you is that there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all.

I’m sorry you feel so lonely. Genuinely loneliness is such a horrible and all consuming emotion. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But I’m so proud of you for making it this far despite that. And I hope you can be proud of yourself one day too. I also hope this loneliness is one that doesn’t stay with you too long. I don’t know you personally and obviously I can’t promise anything, but anon you seem really in touch with your emotions and open to connections, so I truly feel connection will find you. And I’m not just saying that either, I truly believe this is a loneliness that won’t last forever. People like you are bound to draw people to them - and I hope that day comes soon. So please keep believing in yourself and having the bravery to feel lonely. Acknowledging that feeling takes a lot of courage , but because you acknowledge it you are that much closer to it one day being bridged. So please hold out for that. Kind souls meet kind people and I can tell you are very kind. 💕

I’m sorry you are struggling with this , but thank you for popping in and sharing your story. I hope you have a beautiful and wonderful day and do something kind for yourself. And just know I’m giving you a big hug!! You’ve got this 💕💕💕💕💕

[not-poignant]

There's a take floating around which goes: If you're self-deprecating about your writing your readers feel shitty so keep that shit to yourself, it's terrible to make them feel shitty.

And it's like... yes but, mental illness exists and this take seems... ableist?

Like don't get me wrong, I keep like 99.999% of my insecurities about my writing away from social media or public spaces believe it or not (which was a skill I had to learn, and did not come easily, and does not come easily, esp to people who have very few trusted friends they can vent to), but... people have mental illnesses? Telling someone to just 'keep it to themselves' is... part of the problem, and not part of the solution.

Seeing someone feel terrible about writing can be resonating for others who feel terrible about their writing sometimes, especially when they then pull through to the other side and keep writing. Seeing your favourite writers go on downward spirals is like 'oh they feel that too.' There can be solidarity in the low points, especially for those of us who have actual mental illnesses. I know for myself, seeing folks with unmedicated ADHD, who experience rejection sensitivity dysphoria over fics that don't do great, who sometimes wonder if it's worth it, go on to decide that it is worth it - is actually really heartening for me personally.

The example given was that if say - I feel bad about my writing, it might make people feel bad about their writing too. Like 'oh no if that writer feels bad then how bad is my writing?' -> I acknowledge this could happen, but I'm also very frank about literally having mental illness/es and generally being in the middle of them when I'm downward spiralling on my writing. If someone uses that to tear down their own writing, they might have their own mental health stuff to deal with that is literally their responsibility, and I have no doubt that many people do.

For myself, personally, someone else's downward spiral has actually never made me feel bad about my writing, but it has made me go 'hey fellow sufferer of these particular spirals, I recognise you, I recognise this pain, it won't last, and you're doing amazing.' Everyone's different, I prefer the solidarity in acknowledgement and honesty, even as someone who literally does keep a lot of that stuff private because I also don't want to be like... 'constant mental illness parade' on this particular Tumblr. That's what Dreamwidth is for ;)

The world of writing (or any career) isn't just a place for forced cheer and happiness and 'I am confident ALL THE TIME about my writing.' Especially creative industries where everything is subjective and you literally have no idea how well your stuff is going to do, vs. a surgery where you probably have a pretty good idea if you're doing a good job literally while you're doing the surgery. Constant cheer and confidence to me is false and it's frankly alienating. Some of my best artist and writer friends I've made, are people who do sometimes just speak up honestly about the pain, suffering, and mental health impacts of doing something creative when you have anxiety, depression or PTSD (for example.)

I'm not saying the alternative - to *constantly* talk your writing down - is great either... but- let's be real it's often a symptom of a *mental illness* and I'm not about invisibilising or asking people to pretend they don't have them or to conceal their symptoms. I'd rather know someone was struggling. Telling people to hide their ugly parts is literally what we call mental health stigma. Telling someone to shut up about their suffering simply because it might make other people feel bad, is honestly pretty ableist in general, but especially in the arena of mental health. We generally want people to be speaking up more, because the alternative is isolating and alienating, and can lead to dire consequences.

I'd rather someone talked about having a bad day with their writing, and gave me a chance to at least witness that and maybe even react (with a heart emoji, or a paragraph, or something), than suffered in silence only to one day disappear from writing (or the world) forever.

So yeah, different strokes for different folks, I guess.

If you're the kind of person who doesn't like to see someone with mental illnesses talk about sometimes hating their writing, the unfollow button is right there. :)

[elytrafemme]

Genuinely it was CBT that saved me from my own head. Cognitive behavioural therapy not. Not cock and ball torture.

When you’ve got these set lines of thinking, when you’ve got this inability to comprehend yourself or your surroundings or your rapidly declining health - that’s when you need to start rewriting your thought processes. The problem is I can’t think of any exercises because I don’t remember anything from that time, but it might help to catch yourself in the act of whatever you’re thinking and trying to rewrite it.

My most common line of thought was, “I did not work to my standard here. I will get a B in whatever class this is and everyone will realise I’m not what they thought I am and I will die alone. This pain is immeasurable. The only way I can fix it is by [compulsion].”

And the place you need to stop yourself is “I will get a B.” You say, “Right, well, a B is a pass. A B is generally what you need to get into whatever it is you need to get into. School is not about accumulating A’s, it’s about accumulating knowledge, and by passing, you’ve proven that you can do that, and besides, you haven’t even gotten the results back. Calm down. Get a hobby. Life will go on.” And until you can think all that in your own head without spiralling more, you write it down, or you say it out loud to someone - anything you can to set it in stone.

Now my problems were anxiety based. It was all OCD. But if you catch yourself thinking about that pain - with that need to do something awful, or a compulsion to isolate yourself, or with that anger boiling beneath your skin - I don’t know. It might be useful. And if not, the CBT Wikipedia page is always a fun read.

oh gotcha. okay i will try this. i think ive done cbt? i dont know what kind of therapy im in right now maybe it's just talk therapy. a lot of the issue is that i dont actually experience much fluctations in my fucking thoughts or whatever its like my mood just shifts and then my thoughts come after this very visceral thing. but i guess that is related and all that is really helpful advice as a whole so i thank you for sharing it. glad that you felt better by like doing all this stuff

[the-phantom-ender]

okay serious entity assignments time now because i said i might yesterday and i am better rested now.

first off, ill say that like... i dont know everything about every empire, i might be a little off base with some of the members i know less about.

second, the thing about aligning characters with entities is that it doesnt tend to be as easy as just something they fear. they also have to thrive in it. if all it took was fear, there would be lots of people marked directly by the web, if all it took was the ability to thrive, most introverts would be marked by the lonely. it takes a careful balance of both (unless the characters hand is forced, which we do technically see in t.ma canon at least once) for someone to be effectively marked by a fear, much less be an avatar (which is... a loose term at best but i digress because the explanatory bit is getting long dfjkhdf)

stuffs under the cut because it got. long. and feel free to share your own thoughts about them!!

shelby: an interesting case where my gut said corruption but upon reflection i think aligning her with the eye makes more sense? she definitely is shaped by corruption, but her arc thus far has mostly revolved around her desire to learn and her fear of what that knowledge might reveal. after her encounters with xornoth, she also seems very nervous about the idea of being watched.

lizzie: the vast is obvious for her, but it does make sense. its the fear of heights and deep waters and human insignificance, infinity. lizzie absolutely thrives in the depths and holds no fear for the waters but she does show hesitance when it comes to leaving. the danger comes from the outside, the other. which seems more like the lonely, sure, but the vast and lonely link greatly.

joel: im a little biased with the desolation alignment for joel because of 3l. i still think it could work for empires, but... the stranger might work better. i dont think theres anything quite as 'stranger' as filling your home with statues of yourself, giving workers your face, but everything is just slightly... wrong. be it that they dont fit quite right or that their limbs are leather and wood. Unfamiliarity, the uncanny.

gem: so id originally said eye for gem but @loganprobably (i hope the tags cool sjgkhdfh) mentioned the lonely and... both work i think. gem has an appreciation for knowledge, for awareness and learning. but shes also in a position where she both isolates herself and gets overly involved. being one of the people to try to ally with everyone but having a clear side picked. the welcome and the shunning. whats a girl gotta do for some peace and quiet?

scott: scott is... hard. itd be so easy to just throw lonely or eye at him because he stays to himself and knows a lot. id wager the web might work better, though. he keeps his distance, keeps an eye on all that goes on, and... makes no moves. he waits, plans ahead. if war brews he needs to be able to side with the winners. he shows a distain for the idea of being controlled and avoids situations where he could be. hes careful with his choices when theyre made.

jimmy: jimmy. lonely, but for a different reason than gem would be. he is friendly and kind and cares deeply for others, yet hes so clearly... the outcast, even within his own circles. hes the picked on, the betrayed. a friend to all but loved, respected, by none. in his times of need he is forgotten, silenced. yet he doesnt seem to hate the loneliness, just the fact that no one came.

joey: oh god here we go. joeys hard to pin down. the hunt might work? he could fall into the lonely but being lost doesnt inherently mean lonely (it actually ties more in with the vast). i say the hunt, though, because he refuses to back down from his stances, even if theyre objectively wrong, and will do so by whatever means necessary. hell instigate the death of others for the sake of getting what he wants.

fwhip: the slaughter. sacrifice and destruction follow him in everything and he thrives in it. his violence isnt entirely mindless but he has a penchant for war and the things that go into it. heres where my stuff starts getting less cohesive as i watch these members much less ;^^

sausage: the corruption and the desolation lay equal claim on sausage. in everything he plays tricks and feigns niceties and makes himself out to be the one in the right. all the way he makes it seem as if hes kind and just in his actions even if his motives are chaos and destruction. he still holds a fear for things going wrong and holds tight to his alliances.

pixl: the end. his vigil is very very 'end' to me. death, to him, is inevitable, a fact of life, and he choses to honor it and give it respect. in all things he does he knows death to be a cause and an end to the means. even if his trickery may just be a signal of the spiral... whos to say?

katherine: okay. bear with me for this one, yeah? the flesh. no im not only saying this because of the bone garden. the fear that we are just meat and bones, the realization that animals go to the slaughter. i believe its a fact that many involved with the flesh become vegetarian after encounters and her whole thing is plants. she shows a distaste for killing animals but a desire to use them in projects.

pearl: the dark. yes, this is the obvious choice, but i do have reason beyond it. pearls character in empires is directly contrary to her name. she revels in the light and lives around sunflowers and growth. despite this she will let herself work into the night, she will let herself turn a blind eye to damage being done. what she cant see cant hurt her.

bonus:

xornoth: the extinction. i know there are no actual avatars of the extinction in the source, however: it makes sense, right? more than this creature is corruption or the end it wants mortals gone. it wants mortals gone and to be released and freed to do this deed.

[waitingforwinterwinds]

Game of Thrones - 22 ARYA II (pages 209-218)

Arya finally acknowledges the guilt she's been feeling over Mycah's death at the Trident. She begins healing, and has her first 'dancing' lesson.

-

oh my gosh this entire chapter is so sad. Not 'pathetic' sad, but Arya is clearly dealing with heavy emotional distress.

"I don't care about their stupid tourney," Arya said. She knew Prince Joffrey would be there, and she hated Prince Joffrey. Sansa lifted her head. "It will be a splendid event. You shan't be wanted."

See Sansa still being pissed about Lady's death and misdirecting her pain in the only 'safe' direction. Meanwhile Arya knows the real problem and can loath him at her own discretion. These two... they might not have had the 'most bestest sisters eva' relationship, but the incident on the Trident did so much damage to their future relationship.

(We also see a wedge between Ned and Sansa that displays their different focus, but also their different levels of knowledge. Sansa is super excited for the Tourney because "omg this is just like my shows songs and stories," whereas Ned knows that this tourney is going to be paid for with money they don't have and send the kingdom spiraling even further into debt, on top of the fact that Ned's already a very austere living type of person.) (Actually, hang on I need to chase a metaphor. This tourney is like if you think going out for a family dinner once or thrice a year to a 'fancy' restaurant where the individual bills are live $60 for a three-course meal is already kind of frivolous, and then your friend the next city over calls you and says 'hey I need some help dealing with some household stuff could you come give me some support for a bit? and you get there and they decide to throw you a welcome party with high end champagne and truffles airlifted in from France and all the food and drink, everything, has real gold in it, and by the way the dozen people just over there are all high end escorts hired and on the job rn, and you've just found out the trouble your friend is having is that they're so in debt to a loan shark they're about to have their car repossessed.)

No one talked to Arya. She didn't care. She liked it that way. ... She had no one left but Sansa, and Sansa wouldn't even talk to her unless Father made her. ... Only that was Winterfell, a world away, and now everything was changed. This was the first time they had supped with the men since arriving in King's Landing. Arya hated it. She hated the sounds of their voices now, the way the laughed, the stories they told. They'd been her friends, she'd felt safe around them, but know she knew that was a lie. They'd let the queen kill Lady, that was horrible enough, but then the Hound found Mycah. ... And no one had raised a voice or drawn a blade or anything, not Harwin who always talked so bold, or Alyn who was going to be a knight, or Jory who was captain of the guard. Not even her father.

Bad enough that Arya's in a strange place, but she's also experienced something traumatic, and unlike Sansa who still has Jeyne (and has been trained her entire life to believe in the stories and honour of men like their father and is clinging to that illusion), Arya has no support network at this point. Everyone she trusted has failed to help her, in her view, it's a betrayal, she's not safe with these people anymore. She is so isolated right now, and she's trying her hardest to convince herself she's fine but she's not.

Arya desperately wanted to explain, to make him see. "I was trying to learn but..." Her eyes filled with tears. "I asked Mycah to practice with me." The grief came on her all at once. She turned away shaking. "I asked him," she cried. "It was my fault, it was me..." Suddenly her father's arms were around her. he held her gently as she turned to him and sobbed against his chest. "No, sweet one," he murmured. "Grieve for your friend, but never blame yourself. You did not kill the butcher's boy. That murder lies at the Hound's door, him and the cruel woman he serves."

And there it is. The real reason she feels so out of place and unhappy. Arya feels responsible for Mycah's death. Good save and support from Ned, but even hearing that isn't going to necessarily free her from the guilt entirely, because she doesn't blame herself for murdering Mycah, she blames herself for putting him into the situation which got him murdered. (But really shouldn't and wouldn't have if Cersei and Joffrey were less of a pair of (rude word)s.)

I see that Ned's explanation of why Sansa might have lied is a show only thing as far as this scene goes, it's no less valid for it, but I feel like show Ned might be a little more socially and politically savvy then book Ned right now... it's not that hard, the bar's not high.

"We all lie," her father said. "Or did you truly think I'd believe that Nymeria just ran off?" Arya blushed guiltily. "Jory promised not to tell."

*gasp* Jory helped see Nymeria off? Awwww.

...You know, little things keep surprising me, and I'm starting to think I didn't get very far into the books back then, and that what I know of book lore was learned by osmosis. Video essays and wiki articles and fanfics.

"- When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths. -"

There it is! "The pack survives!" That's pretty much a hug theme in GoT, strong alliances making or breaking someone's power, and social connections determining alliances. Lose favour, lose friends, lose the Game of Thrones.

It's also one of my favourite things to see in fanfics, I'm a Stark Sister supremacist, this will shock no one (unless you haven't been paying attention), seeing all the variations of Sansa and Arya's 'the pack survives' is just, so good. Whether it's 'I hate you still, but I hate the enemies of our family more,' or if it's 'we never saw eye to eye, but we aren't those children anymore, this us, we can do what they can't, we can be allies,' or 'we're as different as the sun and moon, but all the pain we caused doesn't matter as long as I have you back.'

(... yes, it's mostly because then my two favourite girls lay freaking waste to their remaining enemies. They can have a little vengeance. as a treat~)

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

im telling you guys, yall are NOT gonna like my opinion on the incest in this show as a victim of incest

honestly i was just gonna leave it at that but im gonna put it all under the cut so i can nuke it if this gets out of hand. obvious tw for incest but real actual incest and csa

so ive been a victim of incest. what happened was my cousin, who was my age, got me to play a "game" where we were just humping each other. i was uncomfortable because it was surrounding something i didn't know about* and knew i shouldn't know about, and i didn't want to get in trouble when we got caught. so i squealed, they talked to him, and it stopped. he asked me to play once after, i said no, we did something else

(*i was a sheltered kid, and he was already on the internet. i was 8-9)

but that's not when i was a victim of incest.

what really happened was my mother had a strange fixation on my ass when i was prepubescent. and when i started going through puberty and developing, she'd slap it as i was walking by, no matter how many times i voiced my discomfort. she also showered with me past the appropriate age and once touched my vagina under the guise of "cleaning" it, and as i grew up would have an uncomfortable fixation with my affection, and there was an incident where shed plant long, sloppy kisses on me and smell me, like take a huge fucking whiff. and she even admitted she had a fake version of me in her head that she talked to. it was emotional incest with a side order of real incest

and my opinion?

shut the fuck up about the incest jesus christ.

i remember when i saw this therapist. my mom was isolating me away from my entire support system and i was spiraling hard. i told him everything and he concluded i had PTSD

but not from my abusive mother.

from my cousin.

the insistence that the incest was the worst thing that could've possibly happened to me infuriated me back then, and it infuriates me now.

the uncomfortable experience with my cousin paled in comparison to the repeated, rampant abuse i suffered at the hands of my mother. not even the incest shit, the other stuff.

but the insistence that incest is the Be All End All of bad harmed me. it prevented me from getting the help i needed- once i revealed that experience, it was all that therapist focused on. not my mother. not the damage she was currently doing to me. a weird encounter with my cousin.

which brings me here.

the whole.... point of this show is to reveal the seedy underbelly of society. how immoral it all is, the things normal people would shy away from and be disgusted by. and the incest is just.... one of those things. it's not portrayed as good, nothing in this show is! but yall treat "not explictly treated as the worst thing possible" as "glorifying and fetishizing" and its getting on my goddamn nerves

and before yall say "yeah but there's just some things that are too far!" by whose metric? yours?

another person who watches the show could say that izaya's kidnapping of suicidal girls is "too far." another could even say that a man having dyed hair is "too far." someone else could say that the high-school characters being in gangs is "too far." why should everyone follow your metric of what "too far" is? why are you the main arbiter of good and evil in fiction?

and i'm not saying you have to like the incest. it does cross a line for a lot of people, including other victims of incest. i get it.

but its mere presence isnt suddenly worlds worse than everything else in this show, and it certainly isn't something that needs to be fixed. sorry ur girlboss gaslight slayqueen fave is an incestuous pedophile but that's just the canon of the show and it fits with the theme of the show. you just want it to be fixed because you can't bring yourself to like her with this information, you have to moralize everyfuckingthing you do, including liking a character, because liking a character means you agree with everything she does??

again its FINE if people want to make fan content of her without the incest in it, blah blah et cetera I GET IT, but acting like its some sort of moral failing on narita's part for even including it in the first place is kind of selfish and misses the point of the . whole series

[saebyeog-i]

bitter brews (i) | syh

“Johnny laughed again, eyes crinkling at the sides. Your mind wandered briefly to a half formed thought about how endearing that was. “Maybe so, but despite your efforts to make me an enemy, I think you’re actually a really good person. You even guessed my favorite coffee drink, so that has to count for something.””

genre | not quite a coffeeshop!au, (mild)slow burn, this thought about being an adversaries to lovers fic for six minutes

rating/warnings | a stupid amount of exposition about coffee plants, catch me throwing in the random recipes that have been my go-to for cooking during quarantine, is this angsty?, discussions of mental health issues {see tags for details}, overall mature content/themes {foul language, alcohol consumption, references & discussion of masturbation, awkward boners, future smut}, some soft moments, and some good ol’ tooth rotting waxing poetic nonsense fluff. Don’t expect too much out of this I just got tired of editing this part so I’m finally posting it.

word count | 19.6k (I meant for this to be a super long one-shot but it’s turning into a story in parts for the sake of ratings w h o o p s)

pairing | Johnny Seo x fem reader

writing playlist | Egotistic - Mamamoo, Black Swan - BTS, Sober - HYO, I Blame On You - Taeyeon, Heartbeat - BTS, Close to Me (Red Velvet Remix) - Ellie Goulding feat. Red Velvet

—

“So, what you mean to say is… you’re not coming? Like, at all?”

The bright yellow plastic of the rotary phone was slightly cool against your overheating skin, which was constantly veiled in a thin layer of sweat whenever you stayed on the farm property instead of the main house on the opposite side of the island. It was the first week of May, which meant it was already humid again. If it wasn’t the time for the daily afternoon rain showers, it might as well have felt like it was raining with how saturated the air was.

“I’m sorry, Bean, I just can’t get on a plane right now. I thought it would be fine it we stretched out the time between flights, but all my doctors are saying I need to just stay here between now and the birth, so…”

Your sister’s voice trailed off and you had to wait for a moment to be sure it wasn’t the poor reception for the phone call running across the four thousand miles that separated you— the four thousand miles that would continue to separate you for the rest of the summer.

You exhaled and twirled the aged spiral phone cord that could barely hold its shape around your index finger, staring at the concrete floor and scrunching your toes. “Well, I’m already here, obviously… do you… you want me to stay here then? Take care of stuff?” You asked hesitantly, already having a feeling of what the answer would be.

A crackly sigh of relief came through the other line. “Little Bean, you are the best, Yunho was worried about asking you to stay and man the farm for the summer harvest but I knew you would just offer! You’re the best like that, you know?” You gritted your teeth and forced a smile through, even though no one was there to witness it. “Okay, so we’ll ship out the supplies in the next few days. Yunho is gonna email you a list of delivery dates of materials for the projects he had planned for the summer and a few contractor contacts…”

Her voice warbled on, and you could only nod your head and vocalize an ‘mhmm’ every so often, listening to her rattle off instructions and information that you knew would be sent in an email too. You’d been looking forward to spending the summer with her— you hadn’t gotten a proper chance to visit for more than a weekend since she and Yunho had gotten married about two years ago— but it turned out this wouldn’t be it. You couldn’t blame her though; she was approaching the third trimester of her pregnancy. You’d do anything for her, even this, even isolating yourself on a farm for four months. Alone.

Not exactly the leave of absence you’d been hoping for from work, but it would have to do.

✧ ✧ ✧

This was supposed to be a vacation. A break. Some much needed time off, away from your job, your career, and your “normal” life. You told yourself over and over again you were looking forward to it. And besides, it would all be worth it, because of all the time you’d get to spend with your sister after so long.

And then she had to betray you by going and getting fucking knocked up, with twins no less.

Fucking happily married couples with their god damn healthy ass sex lives and family planning and wanting to raise children. What the fuck was that all about?

It had been so long since your last vacation. Years, in fact. So long, you had over two months of paid time off accrued at work, and back at New Years you’d made the preliminary plans to spend a month on the farm in Hawaii with her, bonding and just relaxing. Sure, it would require some manual labor for the business here and there, but mostly just to rest.

What a joke that turned out to be.

The farm in Hawaii. You know, the coffee farm your brother in law bought four years ago on a dare from your sister, because he said he could totally pull it off as a side hustle, and she said he wouldn’t be able to? Yeah, that one. Fast forward to today and the side hustle became a full fledged passion that roped in a good amount of the family into the business. Siblings, cousins, parents, all involved in different aspects of package design, social media marketing, distribution and wholesale— everyone except you, who stuck with your soul sucking job in advertising, the same industry your brother in law had since left behind.

The farm and roasting wasn’t an overnight success by any means, but in the last year the brand had really taken off in the craft coffee scene. After all, Kona coffee was well sought after, and one could only claim the name ‘Kona’ if it was grown on the same two thousand or so acres of land on Hawaii’s big island. You know, the same area of land you were living on for the remainder of the summer?

Right. The whole summer.

It was just supposed to be the month of May. And then it turned into May and some of June, when you’d asked your sister to make more concrete plans, and she kept brushing it off. And then the week before you actually got off the plane, you hadn’t booked the return ticket, because you were still waiting for her answer. And then the phone call, and now, this was… indefinite? No, that was being too dramatic; if anything, it would be up through the birth. Based on the number of projects Yunho had planned for the farm, through the remainder of the summer was how long everything would take. Just you and a little over five acres of land and the summer heat. The thought of an extended isolation had your breath catching in your throat, but the last thing you wanted to do was complain or call for help. Stubborn and proud, you wouldn’t have made the offer to stay if you didn’t mean it, if you didn’t think you could handle it. There was no way you were backing out now.

When Yunho had first bought the farm, it had been a rough first few years of refining the coffee plants that had been on the land and uncared for for a number of years, but the last two summers had provided a steady increase in the harvest yield. There was a small farmhouse on the property, with two small bedrooms, a shower, and a small kitchen and living area. A few miles down the coast was the nicer, newer condo that the business had bought, a multi-bedroom unit with some better amenities for when more of your family wanted to visit. It felt weird spending time there— it was too nice, too clean, and quite frankly you had enough to keep yourself busy with on the farm property, you’d rather not have to spend time driving back and forth every day. So you opted to spend most of your nights sleeping here, even though it meant only ceiling fans and no air conditioning.

The farmhouse had very shitty, very limited wifi and a grand total of three electrical outlets outside of what was used to power the oven and refrigerator. One of those outlets was, of course, dedicated to an espresso machine on the kitchen counter, which you had gotten acquainted with over the last two weeks. It was an older model and a little temperamental (the one at the condo was much nicer), but it was still from a decent manufacturer, and you could still use it to pulled a decent shot.

Most of the time you worked in silence, and most of the time you were never too aware of how much time had passed, other than when the sun went down and it was suddenly dark out. You weren’t always this absent minded, you swore— maybe it was a byproduct of being alone for so long—

A loud, high pitched whine filled your ears, followed by some scratching at the door that lead to the lanai outside. You sighed, standing up from the kitchen table and walking over to face the monster that had made it.

“What? What do you want now?”

Staring back at you from the the other side of the screen door was what you’d affectionally referred to as The Thirty-Three Pound Menace— the medium sized stray dog that your brother-in-law so conveniently forgot to mention had been living on the farm for the last few months. It had been waiting outside the farmhouse when you first arrived, and you’d learned from the neighbors that Yunho had taken a liking to the stray and had arranged for them to feed it in his absence. But now that you were here, taking care of the dog was added to your list of daily chores. It seemed to not want to leave the farm property unless actively accompanied by you, with the assurance that you’d be bringing it back with you.

With a roll of your eyes you hip checked the door open just enough to let the dog inside the house. It circled you several times, sniffing at your knees before sitting and panting, staring up at you expectantly. In the two weeks you’d been here, the majority of your conversations were between you and this, a being that couldn’t talk back. Maybe you liked it that way. “What, dinner? Fine, fine,” you grumbled, shuffling to the cabinet and pulling out a can of wet food.

Your meals had consisted of relatively simple dishes, but today you were cranky at the confirmation that your summer was not going to go as planned. Tonight’s dinner featured a bowl of cereal and a coffee mug full of cold white wine.

You ate in silence. You drank in silence. The only noise came from the hum of the ceiling fan overhead, and the occasional sound of the dog, cleaning its paws and laying by your feet protectively. Why it seemed so determined to win over your affection, you had no idea.

After sitting in silence with only your thoughts and the now sleeping dog to keep you company for what felt like hours and downing a second mug full of wine, you found yourself letting out a loud yell, startling the dog and waking it. In a fury, you pulled out the laptop you had for the sole purpose of checking once a day for emails from Yunho and connected it to the shitty, sub-par wifi with just enough patience to navigate to an airline’s website and search flights back to the states. You were looking for the cheapest, most reasonable one you could find. After all of five minutes of research and a quick round on mental math, you clicked on a date and hit the ‘book now’ button before you could second guess yourself, slamming the computer shut once the payment went through and shoving it away from you across the table.

“September 10th,” you grumbled out loud for only you and the dog to hear. Standing from the chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor, you crossed the room and stopped in front of the wall calendar your sister had put up the last time she’d visited the farm just after New Years. You lifted a few pages and flipped forward to the month of September. Red marker in hand, you found the date and circled it rather aggressively, several times over. You looked down at the dog, watching you patiently with its head tilted. “You got that? I’m getting off this fucking island on September 10th.”

✧ ✧ ✧

The day your life fell apart came twelve days later just before nine in the morning.

Mondays were the delivery day, that’s what Yunho had laid out in his instructional emails to you. Your only source of personal transportation was an older jeep, one you didn’t enjoy driving, given that it had no top and needed some mechanical work done. So you’d made arrangements and had your groceries delivered on Monday mornings, buying mostly direct from another farm on the other side of the island, and they were always kind enough to act as the courier for whatever additional miscellaneous supplies you’d request, regardless of where they’d have to go to procure them.

There was a winding driveway that lead up to the house from the main road, and a larger, wider drive up a less steep hillside for larger vehicles for delivery. You were fully expecting the truck that lumbered up the delivery road and came to a stop just outside the barn which housed the massive coffee roaster and stored most of the processed green beans from harvest. Even though it had only been three weeks, there was a routine that had slowly been settling into place: the sound of the truck coming to a stop riled up the dog, the dog came running from wherever and started barking, you’d get your groceries and any other assorted items, the dog would get a treat because your delivery boy had a soft spot for the creature, and you’d pay for your goods. “Hey Jin,” you called out over the barking from the front of the barn, hands currently full with a sack of processed coffee beans you’d hoisted over your shoulder. “You can just leave the groceries on the porch, I’ll put them inside in a few. Did you manage to get me the bags of fertilizer and some wood stakes?” A loud thud sounded as you dropped the bag to its resting place on the concrete floor.

“I mean, I can go put these inside if that’s easier. And yeah, there’s ten bags to get us started, we can have more delivered next week if you still need ‘em.”

You whipped around to face whoever had just spoken, because that voice was most certainly not Jin.

He was tall like Jin, had wide shoulders like Jin, and his hair was kept just a bit long and looked ridiculously shiny and soft and like you could run your fingers through it like Jin’s. It was a lighter brown with some honeyed highlights running through it, compared to the dark brown almost black of Jin’s. You tensed, seeing him carrying a brown paper bag with a loaf of bread and the leafy green tops of carrots sticking out the top. He wasn’t looking at you, rather, he was far too occupied with bending down slightly and scratching behind the ear of the dog who was currently whining and wagging its tail at his feet. Some guard dog it was.

Without a second thought, you reached for the first sharp object you could find, which happened to be the box cutter you used to cut open the burlap bags the beans came back from the processing plant in. “You’re not Jin,” you said tersely, holding the utility knife by your hip defensively.

“Chill out killer, he’s harmless,” a more familiar voice called. Seokjin, your regular delivery driver whose family owned the farm you bought directly from, came into view carrying another two bags of produce and a small pile of envelopes. “Picked up your mail on my way up, the box was practically overflowing. Do you ever check that thing?” You’d first met Jin two years ago when you’d come to visit your sister and Yunho for a long weekend. He’d become a good friend of Yunho’s and was one of the people who would take turns feeding the dog when no one else was here.

Ignoring the unknown man, you relaxed your shoulders slightly and placed the knife down on the table behind you. “Thanks,” you grumbled, taking the small pile of letters from him. Admittedly, you hadn’t checked the mailbox since the day after you’d arrived on the farm, mostly out of sloth and spite. You sifted through the letters— mostly junk mail, with a few bills and notices relating to the business. You put those in front so you could look through them later, when you’d finished the physical work for the day. You tore one envelope open in particular when you noticed it was addressed directly to you and had your sister and Yunho’s Illinois address in the upper corner. It was a letter postmarked from two weeks ago, which struck you as odd, because what the hell would he bother writing in a letter that he couldn’t just send you in an email or a text or a phone call? You started reading aloud softly to yourself.

“‘My Dearest Bean… First of all I want to apologize for the change in plans, but with your sister’s condition her doctors just don’t recommend her traveling,’ God, he’s so dramatic she’s not terminally ill she’s just pregnant. Blah blah blah, I don’t care, you’re full of absolute shite, Yunho,” you began skimming through his lengthy pre amble, looking for the purpose behind the note. Without reading the middle you flipped the stationary paper over to see his handwriting covered the entire back of the page, too. “God, he’s so long winded. Oh, here we go, the very end— ‘I promise we’ll make it up to you, thank you for running the farm and taking care of Puppy, please be nice to Johnny and treat him well, he seems like a good kid.” You stared at the words written on the paper and looked up at Jin. “Who the fuck is Johnny?”

The man next to him cleared his throat and held his hand up. “Johnny! I’m uh, that’s me. You must be _____— I’ve heard a lot about you from Yunho! I’m Johnny Seo, it’s nice to meet you,” he said with a smile, reaching a hand out.

You eyed it but made no move to reciprocate the action. “Cool. You know Yunho. Lots of people know Yunho, he’s a huge fucking flirt, social butterfly of the century, the man never shuts up. Why should I be nice to you?”

He shifted on his feet and his outstretched hand retreated. “Oh. Uh. I’m uh, here for the summer,” he explained, sounding almost confused. “Didn’t— didn’t Yunho tell you?”

Your eyes bugged out and you looked over to Jin. “Jin who the fuck is this and why is he on my farm?” You whispered.

Your friend laughed. “You read the end of Yunho’s letter. I’m sure if you read the whole thing it would explain more. This is Johnny, and he’s here for the summer. He’s gonna help you out! I know the list of all the projects you need to finish this summer is lengthy, and plus look at the guy, he’s jacked! You could use the muscle for manual labor. More work for him, less for you, right? And look, the poor dog you refuse to give a name to even likes him!” Jin gestured comically at Johnny. You looked over, sizing him up some— Jin wasn’t wrong. The stranger was muscular on top of being tall, and under the capped sleeves of his tee shirt you saw his arms that looked the size of your head. The dog was still circling him, sniffing and begging for attention.

Johnny tried smiling again. “Yunho mentioned there was a lot of construction type work to do. I uh, had nothing else planned so he said I could stay on the farm for the summer and work in exchange for food and a place to sleep. I take it he uh, didn’t run that by you first, did he?”

Your grip on the papers in hand tightened and you felt your jaw tense involuntarily. “No, he managed to not mention that once to me. How did you even get here?” You hissed back.

“I picked him up at the airport this morning,” Jin answered calmly, “Yunho gave me a buzz a few days ago to ask if I could bring him here with this week’s groceries.”

“So he managed to arrange for him to get on a plane and secure transportation to the farm but couldn’t be bothered to call me and let me know?”

Jin only laughed, his eyes crinkling. “I’m pretty sure he knows you well enough by now to know that this would have been your reaction whatever way he told you.” Despite the kinship you’d felt growing between the two of you, Jin was Yunho’s friend first, and it only made sense that his allegiance would be to him first. Of course he’d side with Yunho on this matter. “And yes, like Johnny said I did bring a bundle of plant stakes and ten bags of fertilizer— they’re in the back of the truck bed.”

“Oh, I could get those—” Johnny started, moving to step towards the truck.

You could barely think straight. First they bailed on you unexpectedly to spend the summer on the farm alone. That was fine— you’d gotten that through your head, and had come to terms with that. But suddenly springing a plus one on you, without your consent? Absolutely the fuck not.

“Yeah. Don’t need help. Thanks,” you spat, grabbing the bags of groceries from him and brushing past, stomping your way back to the farmhouse.

Johnny stood frozen for a moment before stammering, looking from Jin to your retreating figure and back again. “I should— I should talk to her, right? Or do I—”

“Whoa, don’t think too hard there handsome, I can smell wood burning. Don’t stress about it. She’s just a little… touchy. Let me talk to her,” Jin patted Johnny on the back before heading up the path to the farmhouse after you.

You’d stormed into the house and slammed the groceries down on the counter and let out a screech of rage before picking up the receiver of the yellow rotary phone and dialing. Tapping you foot incessantly, you waited as it rang.

“He-llo~?” The singsong voice that came through the other end was far too amused with itself, more so than usual, and that’s how you knew he knew why you were calling.

“Jung Yunho you better be thankful you knocked up my sister because if it weren’t for the babies in her womb I would fly myself across the Pacific and flay you alive,” you seethed through gritted teeth.

In true unbothered fashion, your brother in law only laughed at your threat. “Ah, so I take it your employee has arrived safely! I’ll have to thank Seokjin for getting him from the airport. Can you give the Kims a pound of the special medium roast as a token of my gratitude?”

“No!” You yelled back, “No! I will not! I’m already beyond frustrated that I’m on this island alone for the entire summer, I’m doing this as a favor because we’re family! I’m not your slave, Yunho! Where was my warning, huh? When were you going to ask if I was okay with you sending some stranger to live in the same house as me, huh?!”

The familiar ache in your chest started to swell, and breathing became difficult. ‘Not now,’ you thought bitterly, ‘Please not right now-’

You curled your free hand into a fist and pressed your nails into your palm, hard, grounding yourself. Yunho’s voice on the phone blurred out and by the time his words started making sense again, you’d already missed what he’d been saying. “I’m not saying you have to like the kid, just show him some hospitality, yeah? You just said it yourself, you didn’t want to be alone this summer, and now you won’t be. I know you’re a good cook so that’s why I told him food would be included. Don’t worry, I’ve already sent some pre-payments to the Kims, so your grocery orders are doubled for the rest of the summer.” His voice went quiet for a second. You rubbed at your temple in frustration, squinting your eyes shut and forcing the mere thought of tears deep back into the recesses of your brain. “Bean? You still there?”

“Don’t get all pretend concerned, Yunho. And stop using my childhood nickname any time you want something from me.” Your voice was quieter now, the intensity of your emotions subsiding, but the betrayal you felt still running strong. “Fine. I’ll tolerate him. But there better be a case of wine in next week’s groceries to make this bearable.”

“Done and done! You’re gonna love him Bean, he’s really great. He’ll be good company.” The continued use of your childhood nickname from anyone other than your sister always gave you pause.

“I said tolerate not befriend. There’s a difference,” you clarified quickly. A knock at the door startled you, and you jumped and looked to see Jin standing by the front door, a roll of wooden stakes under his arm. You rolled your eyes and waved your arm to shoo him away, pointing at the phone pressed to your ear. “Look, Yunho, I don’t know what you’re hoping to see me get out of this, but if he drives me insane I can’t promise that he’ll walk away from this unscathed.”

His laugh echoed through the receiver and reverberated against your skin. “I just think it would do you some good to have some human interaction, that’s all. Your sister too. She says hi, by the way,” he added softly, “And so do the little ones.”

You scoffed. Yunho always brought up your sister as a way of diffusing your temper. He knew it would always work. “They’re still in embryonic fluid, they can’t talk and they certainly don’t have cognitive function.” Sometimes you wondered if even Yunho had that with the wild ideas that went through his mind.

“Ever the romantic, you are. You know, soon they’ll be able to think! And they’ll be thinking of their favorite auntie, and how much they can’t wait to meet her! So she can’t be arrested for murder between now and when they’re born, because babies can’t go to prison!”

“I’m telling your sister you said that,” you challenged. With an exhale, you did your best to let go of the frustration and tension inside and politely ended the phone call. You were trying to clear your head and collect yourself before heading back outside when you heard a yell that sounded all too much like Jin’s voice.

“What fresh hell—” you started, shuffling back outside in the direction of the commotion where you saw Jin, somewhat struggling under the weight of two bags of fertilizer, and Johnny, now with a baseball cap turned backwards on his head, easily hoisting a stack of four bags without slouching.  

Your eyebrow ticked up upon the realization that it was almost seventy pounds that he was slinging around like it was nothing. “Anywhere specific you want these?” He asked innocently, looking up at where you stood on the lanai just outside the door. You almost cursed him out when he blinked at you twice.

You pointed your left arm down the hill, the opposite direction of the way to the barn. “Shed. Next to the vegetable garden.” You wrinkled your nose at him. “And lose the hat. Or at least don’t wear it backwards. Makes you look like an ass.”

Johnny’s mouth hung open for a moment before he hummed and winked. “You got it, Boss! Come on handsome, if you can carry those good looks you can carry some dirt,” he called back to Jin, who was currently grumbling about how manual labor wasn’t a part of his delivery arrangement.

The hairs on your arm stood up on edge as you watched Johnny laugh deeply as he ambled his way in the direction you’d pointed. The thirty three pound menace next to you whined and wagged its tail, panting as it went from watching you to watching Johnny’s retreating figure. You looked down and made eye contact. “If I survive this, I’m going to kill Yunho.”

✧ ✧ ✧

There was no case of wine in the grocery deliveries the following week. The reasoning Yunho gave was that per Jin’s investigation, the liquor stores were all out of your favorite wine, so there was no point in sending you a sub par alternative. It was absolute crap, but you had better things to do than chew out your brother in law over the phone. Took way more energy than it was worth.

So far, Johnny was making good on his word and earning his keep. At first, you’d tried avoiding him as much as possible, intentionally waking up hours ahead of him and starting your day when the sun rose. You never made much noise in the mornings, the loudest thing you did was make coffee, and lately you’d opted for a pour over versus pulling shots of espresso. You weren’t personally one for breakfast, choosing just coffee and maybe a piece of fruit instead. This morning you felt a little hungrier than usual, so you thought you’d get yourself a bowl of cereal. Peering into your pantry, you saw that on the shelf where there had been a stash of cereal boxes, there was now nothing.

“Where the fuck are my cocoa pebbles?” You swore in shock, not realizing you weren’t alone in the kitchen.

“Shit sorry, I ate the last of those yesterday.”

You whirled around to see Johnny, still seemingly half asleep and with some gnarly bedhead, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. His lips were so perfectly pouty, one small part of your brain almost thought he looked cute like this.

But no, he wasn’t cute, he was a thief— he’d stolen all of your cereal stash. “Did you seriously eat through four boxes in a week?” You asked incredulously.

“It was three and a quarter! And yeah I don’t know, I’m always hungry and just one bowl of cereal isn’t filling enough, so I usually have two, or three...” He mumbled, voice trailing off as he rubbed a hand behind his head sheepishly.

You snorted. And then a thought came across you. “Johnny,” you said calmly, the feeling of his name on your tongue foreign and strange. Was this the first time you’d addressed him by name since his arrival? You couldn’t remember. “Do you not know how to cook?”

He hummed thoughtfully for a second. “No-pe!” He popped the p sound in the word. How was he this cheerful, even first thing in the morning? “I mean, I can like, boil water and cook pasta and stuff like that. I think I successfully grilled pork belly once, though it was probably doused in too much oil and too many spices. My college experience was funded almost exclusively on instant dinners and takeout for two years, and then for the second half one of my roommates was an actual chef, so, no one was allowed in the kitchen ‘cept for him.”

“Honestly, I am shocked that you haven’t perished in some tragically strange idiotic accident yet,” you sighed and shuffled to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and a pack of bacon. You grabbed a frying pan from the cabinet under the stove and clicked the burner on, reaching for the oil bottle that lived on the counter top and drizzling some in the pan.

Johnny shuffled closer to inspect what you were doing and let out a gasp of appreciation. “You’re making me eggs and bacon?”

“I’m making me eggs and bacon,” you corrected, “But I guess I’ll make enough for you too,” you said as you peeled the strips off the packaging and placed them into the pan with a sizzle. You reached for a few eggs and cracked four into the pan directly, cocked your head at the amount of food, and then grabbed two more eggs and added them in before taking a fork and scrambling them all together, adding salt and white pepper to the bubbling liquid. You glanced up at Johnny, still watching you, slightly curious. “I don’t trust you. You say you’re an adult but you eat like a teenage boy still. There’s never any leftovers.” After a few minutes you flipped the strips of bacon over and then quickly chopped up a green onion and scraped it onto the scramble just before the eggs finished cooking.

Johnny watched you the whole time, and you felt only slightly uneasy under his gaze. When you turned off the stove after plated your food and stepping away to pour yourself some coffee and he didn’t move, you gestured at the pan in a fashion as if to silently ask him ‘What?’

“Oh!” He gasped out lightly, springing into action and plating the food for himself. You hadn’t bothered to sit down at the table, instead holding the plate in front of you as you leaned against the counter and ate. Johnny followed your lead, taking a bite and groaning audibly in enjoyment at he chewed. He smiled and his eyes shone, almost sparkling. You watched him curiously for a moment before he mumbled out “Your cooking is really good! It uh, reminds me of my mom’s. She’s a great cook.”

You kept your lips tightly shut at the apparent compliment. “It’s just eggs, you weirdo. Finish up and do the dishes. When you’re done meet me by the shed. Today you’re stripping off the old paint and removing any of the rotting boards and disposing of them,” you instructed while placing your empty plate in the sink. His tasks for the day were the next phase in slowly rebuilding the dilapidated shed on the west side of the property to make it useful for storage of all the tools you used to tend to the fruit trees and vegetable garden nearby.

He flashed a smile at you and gave a mock salute. “Aye-aye, captain, I am at your service.”

“Oh shut up,” you grumbled, downing more of your coffee before trudging off.

It was going to be a long summer.

✧ ✧ ✧

“I’m telling you Wendy, I’m going to need an alibi, I really am going to murder my brother in law.”

“What, for giving you live-in eye candy for the summer and hinting that he thinks you need to get laid?”

“Ugh, no, that’s not— hold up, you don’t agree with him, do you?”

The sound of your best friend’s laughter through the phone had you dragging your hands over your face and pulling down at your eyelids dramatically, as if she could see your reaction.

On Thursdays, you finished up your work for the day around 4pm so you could pull up a chair next to the rotary phone and make time for the weekly scheduled phone call with Wendy. She’d insisted on the arrangement after you went six days without texting her, which you’d insisted was because service was spotty, but she’d accurately called you out on being cranky and stewing by yourself.

You and Wendy had met during your freshman year of college. By graduation, you’d lived together for three years, and made a vow to move to the same city together post grad, hence why she was still your roommate now— or was, seeing as you were on the island instead of back in the two bedroom apartment you shared. There was a five hour timezone difference between Hawaii and Chicago, so you’d figured out a schedule that worked for both of you. The calls had a tendency to last for several hours, and depending on how much wine you’d drink while on the phone with her would include bathroom breaks and you inevitably swearing at whatever you were cooking for dinner than night.

“Honey, please. I love you. Dearly, and against all other advice, you’re my best friend— but you need to get laid. You haven’t been this tense since our last finals week of senior year. And clearly you’re not opposed to the idea of Eye Candy banging your brains out, otherwise you wouldn’t have described him as, and I quote, ‘dumb hot and stupidly ripped’. When are you gonna send me a photo so I have something better to work with?”  

“Okay but are you sure you’re not the sexually frustrated one here and you’re just trying to live vicariously through me?”

Wendy’s hum sounded through the line. “I mean, can’t we both be desperately horny and in need of getting some? It’s not ideal but it is possible. Plus, I’m not the one that didn’t pack her vibrator—”

You let out a whine interrupting her as you leaned back in your chair, swirling the wine in your glass a few times as you held the phone to your ear with your shoulder. “Shut up stop reminding me! I regret it but no I’m not letting you send me a new one, especially not with a guy living with me. Come on, my stories are boring, it’s the same thing every day. I wake up, I feed the dog, I tell him what to do and then I hide away doing my own chores. When are you gonna tell me more about that girl you were seeing— what was her name, Joo-something?”

“Nice try, we’re not changing the subject with my dating life. Seriously, babe, you should just think about it.”

“And what, make it awkward for the rest of the summer? No thanks,” you shot her idea down quickly.

“I’m willing to bet money you’ll cave before the end of the summer. Plus, who doesn’t love a good ol’ summer fling? And who says you ever have to see him again once it’s all over?”

As much as you’d loathe to admit it, Wendy had a bit of a point there. “Cute, but you and I both know I’m too high strung for a temporary fling. Plus, I’m not in the mood to catch feelings right now.”

“If I find a way to replenish your wine supply, would that help?”

You groaned dramatically once more. “Not with the sexual frustration, but with my overall wellbeing, yes, yes it would.”

Wendy squealed on the other end of the phone. “Ha! So you admit it, you are sexually frustrated!”

“Woman, when in the years that you’ve known me have I not been at least some kind of frustrated?” You acknowledged.

Your best friend laughed in agreement, understanding she wasn’t going to get much more out of you about Johnny, and began a lengthy and detailed story about her last three dates with a girl she’d met through a friend of a friend. As you listened to how her voice held a dreamlike quality to it when she talked about her, you couldn’t help the pang of jealousy you felt and a sinking feeling in your gut that you’d been lying through your teeth earlier, and that maybe, subconsciously, you did want to catch feelings.

Maybe.

✧ ✧ ✧

“So… is there a story or a reason why you’re here instead of Yunho?”

You lifted your head from your focused task of sorting out the peaberry beans from the regular beans. It was tedious, time consuming, annoying as all hell, and made you want a drink stiffer than the coffee that you were certain made up more of your body fluids than blood or water did at this point. “Yes,” you said curtly after studying his face for a minute, not providing any further explanation. Johnny had his hands in his pockets and pursed his lips, nodding for a moment where he stood in the entrance to the barn.

You had set up your mad scientist level organization for the process all across the concrete floor of the refinished barn. Over the last week, Johnny had finished replacing the boards on the siding of the shed, stained the wood, and sealed it with a protective coat. He even managed to remove all the broken glass from the windows without sustaining any injuries, which you hadn’t thought possible for him. This morning you had him weed the vegetable garden, prune back the hedges along the back side of the house, and clean the deck of the lanai. How did he possibly still have any energy left? He was definitely a harder worker than you’d first given him credit for— you shook your head, not wanting to continue a spiral on Johnny and any detailed thoughts about him.

Back to your task at hand.

The harvest had been divided into several metal basins of five pounds of beans each, and in front of each basin you’d placed two dishes on either side. The point was to be able to weigh how many beans ended up being peaberry from each five pounds of harvest, and to see if you could leverage a steady average from the yield and better plan for how many pounds of the limited roast you could advertise for and set the price per pound accordingly. You wore a face mask and nylon disposable gloves while sorting, and despite being an annoying task, after a while it became a way for you to zone out and let the hours pass by. When the dishes were empty and you first started sorting them, there was a distinct echo of the small beans hitting the metal dish over and over again, until enough beans were lining the bottom that it started to dull the noise.

“Sigh.”

A slight puff of air washed over you. Did he just say the word ‘sigh’ out loud? And was he hovering over your shoulder?

“Can I help you?” You asked, pausing your sorting for only a moment.

“Isn’t it my job to ask you that question? I’m not some layabout, I am trying to earn my keep, you know,” Johnny said in response, rubbing his hands together and eyeing the basin of beans in front of him. You were almost inclined to hand it to him. Over the last four weeks, you’d gotten a lot of decent work out of him, even if you did feel somewhat micro-manage-y half the time with the tasks you did give him. “Okay, how does this work?”

You groaned exaggeratedly and excessively, rolling your eyes. When you didn’t answer, he reached forward and plucked a single coffee bean from the basin and examined it closely. “Hey, this one’s funny looking!”

“Don’t touch them with your bare hands, that’s just going to waste them.” You swatted the bean out of his hand and then looked at your own gloves and sighed. “If you’re insisting on helping, fine. But you need sanitary gear to handle them. Go wash your hands, there’s masks and gloves by the sink,” you grumbled, standing up and taking off your own gloves to dispose of them and replace them with a fresh pair.

Johnny followed obediently, trailing behind you a little too innocently for someone of his size. “Yes, the beans still need to be roasted and that’ll kill any bacteria, but I just like to be extra cautious, okay? Because it’s a mutation there’s no rule to how much of a yield I’ll get with each harvest so I don’t like wasting even a single bean,” you reasoned, settling back down and folding your legs back at the now half-sorted metal bowl.

“So, we’re just sorting the weird ones from the normal ones?” He asked while picking up another peaberry bean, this time with gloved hands and a mask over his mouth and nose.

You took a quick glance and nodded to confirm that yes, the bean in his hand was one of the weird ones he should be looking for. “They’re called peaberry. Normally, a coffee cherry has two seeds in it, or beans. Those two seeds mature in the center of the cherry and you get one flat side and one side touching it. Sometimes people call them ‘flat beans’ but those are the ‘normal’ beans, as you said,” you explained, sifting through your bowl rather quickly. “But the peaberry ones only have one bean inside. The bean is round, so that’s where the name ‘peaberry’ comes from, because—“

“Because it’s round so it looks like a pea, oh I get it! That’s funny,” he laughed, examining the rounded bean in front of him. “Okay, got it, so we’re sorting the peaberry from the flat beans?”

“You proud of your new vocab words?” You snorted, listening for the well known tink of a bean hitting the empty metal bowls. He giggled in acknowledgement.

You worked in relative silence, a small rhythm growing between the two of you. Johnny worked at about half the speed you did, but you couldn’t knock him for it, as it had taken you a while to pick up the pace when you first started hand sorting like this.

“How do you even know Yunho?” You finally asked. Four weeks since he’d arrived, and you’d never bothered to get to know him well enough to listen to the full story of how he’d ended up here.

Johnny shifted in his seated position, clearly a little taken aback that you’d bothered to ask him anything, given your track record. “Oh. Met him in Chicago when I was home visiting. At a local coffee shop, where my buddy Jaehyun is the manager. I went to go bother Jaehyun at work and he was just, shootin’ the shit with one of his coffee suppliers who was doing a visit. That supplier was Yunho. Started talking about how he owned the farm where the beans were grown, and that he wasn’t going to be able to spend the summer out there like he’d planned, so he was looking for some reliable help to uh, take care of things. Mentioned someone else would be on site and in charge, but offered the whole ‘room and board in exchange for copious amounts of physical labor’.”

“And you said yes? Just like that, no questions asked?” It seemed a little too easy, but then again, Johnny had proved to be a little too easygoing.

He shrugged. “Well, yeah. That’s kinda the point of my whole year. Just, go with the flow.” You glanced over, but Johnny was looking down, focused on the task at hand.

You nodded and hummed and turned back to your own basin to continue sorting. A few beats passed by before you couldn’t help yourself— “You’ve said that before. ‘Go with the flow’, or that you ‘had nothing else going on’. What do you mean by that?”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Johnny’s ears perk up, followed by movement of his cheeks implying the curve of a slight smile. “I’m on a gap year, I guess is what the kids would say. Or maybe sabbatical? Though it’s not like I have any tenure enough to qualify for the real meaning of the term. But yeah, anyways— year off from work. Not getting paid or anything, but, when it’s over if I want it, my old job is waiting for me.”

“How come? That seems so—”

“Impulsive?”

You frowned. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Yeah, exactly,” he repeated, but not in a mocking manner— it was in agreement. “I guess the best way to explain it is this: I was a huge workaholic. I’ve only had my one job post grad after studying business, and I woke up one morning a month before my twenty-fifth birthday and realized it was sucking the soul out of me. It was all I ate, slept, breathed, and it wasn’t even what I wanted to be doing with my life, I realized.”

His pain started sounding all too familiar. “What is it you wanted to do instead, then?”

Even under the mask covering the lower half of his face, his smile reached his eyes. “Photography. I got into an art school when I was applying to colleges, but it just seemed so… risky. I would’ve had to take out loans and instead I got almost a full ride for a bigger university, so I went for that instead. Studied business, managed to grind through undergrad and grad school in four years and walked out with a combined BS and MBA. Took classes every summer to make it happen. I think after graduation, I went back to my parents house and passed out and slept for twenty-three hours straight,” he laughed, clearly recalling a specific memory. “I felt really accomplished when it was over, and even had the job offer already lined up. But I wish I had had more courage to study what I was truly passionate about.

“So after an almost three year long stint at the company and a vested 401k, I decided to take a year off to just, travel the world a bit. I grinded so hard through college I never got the chance to do study abroad, so I guess I wanted to make up for that? I never used to act on impulse or follow my heart, so, that was the goal for this year. To do only that.”

His words struck you differently. This was a whole new side to Johnny that you really weren’t expecting— not that you had a particularly three dimensional view of him to begin with. “And your heart lead you here… to my brother-in-law’s coffee farm?”

He laughed again, trying to hide just how thrilled he was that you were actually engaging in a full on conversation with him. “Well, sort of. My year off started back in February, day before my birthday. Got on a plane and did a few months backpack trip around Asia. I had no clue what would be next, thought maybe Australia, maybe Europe, but when I got off the plane in Chicago to see my mom and regroup on my packing, I decided to go straight from the airport to surprise and bother Jaehyun at his coffee shop. That day I met Yunho. That was a little over six weeks ago. And now I’m here, with you.”

There was something about the way he said that that didn’t sit well in your stomach— with you, like it was a good thing, like he liked it. You didn’t deign him with a response to the end of his story. Like an extension of the current state of your mind, your hands were reaching, feeling around for something, but you were only met with the flat surface of the bottom of the basin.

You looked down to see the last of the metal bowls was empty. Somehow, you’d managed to sort through all twenty pounds of coffee beans. You pulled the face mask down under your chin as you stared at the metal surface for a moment before standing abruptly and turning on your heels.

Confused, Johnny called your name out after you questioningly. “It’s getting late and I’m hungry. You uh, bag up the peaberry and set it aside and then wash out all the metal trays,” you gave him his next set of tasks quickly to make your escape back to the farmhouse to put some distance between the two of you.

A little over an hour later, you’d put together a curry on the stove with some stew meat and a base that included apples, carrots, potatoes, and melted dark chocolate for a more mellow sweet taste to balance it out. You thought about the first time Johnny complimented your cooking when it was just eggs, and how he’d continued to compliment it with every new meal you’d make. You wouldn’t call yourself a chef by any means, thinking that enjoying your go-to recipes would be a more acquired taste, and were in the midst of serving yourself when Johnny came inside with the dog trailing behind him. You didn’t bother saying much, you never did when you’d finished cooking a meal; just a grunt acknowledging his presence and a head nod at the food before you took your bowl and went through the door to go sit on the lanai by yourself. Absent-mindedly, you whistled for the dog to follow you.

Johnny kept to himself that night, eating at the kitchen table, content with looking up out the bay window to see you hand feeding small chunks of meat from your bowl to the dog, even going so far as to pet its head. He shook his head to himself thinking about how you pretended to be so opposed to the dog, and how you still hadn’t given it a name, and smiled as he took another bite.

✧ ✧ ✧

At five weeks, you stopped watching Johnny like a hawk, and started giving him more lengthy tasks that you, quite frankly, just didn’t want to do yourself. Though, if you were being honest, every task you gave him was one you didn’t want to do yourself.

Such as his current one, which was to prep the ground for a new row of sapling fruit trees. You’d walked down from the farmhouse over the hill to the open area next to a row of lemon and guava trees where you’d set him to the task of digging a row of four foot wide, four foot deep holes. The week after next, Jin’s delivery would be a much larger one, and include a number of sapling fruit trees from his family’s farm— rambutans, limes, and mangos, to name a few. You wanted to make sure the holes got dug and the irrigation system set in place properly well in advance.

When you came to a stop at the end of the row of freshly dug holes in the ground you blinked once. Twice. A third time. The sight before you was impossible to comprehend. Because not only was Johnny finishing digging the last of ten massive holes having taken less than three hours to do so, but he had been digging them shirtless.

“What. What?” You asked, staring, eyes wide and brow furrowed.

“Huh?” He asked, looking up from the bottom of the last hole and swishing his head to get his bangs, matted with sweat against his forehead, out of his face. The sun had crested over to this side of the hill now and it was blisteringly hot out. Standing in direct sunlight, doing physical labor, obviously he’d worked up a sweat.

You had to tear your eyes away from the shine on his torso and return them to just his face. “Where the fuck is your shirt?”

He pointed to where a lump of fabric was off to the side next to a water bottle. “It’s fucking hot out, I was dying,” he reasoned.

“You’re hot,” you mumbled under your breath, turning on your heel to give yourself reprieve from the onslaught that was Johnny’s unexpected number of defined abdominal muscles that were usually covered by cotton t shirts.

“What was that?” He called, squinting up into the sun from the bottom of the hole.

“I said, put a god damn shirt on before you come back in my house,” you called back, already wrapping your arms around yourself and heading back to the farmhouse. “And dinner’ll be ready in twenty, so finish up,” you added, trudging off before he could respond.

What you would have seen if you’d turned back around was an open mouthed smile curl across his face, as Johnny hummed to himself at the joy he felt for this, the first time you’d bothered to warn him when dinner would be ready.

✧ ✧ ✧

Ever since you’d seen Johnny shirtless, you’d be restless.

Well, restless was the polite word. The word to better describe what you’d been feeling was… frustrated?

Distracted? Peeved? Worked up?

Horny.

The word you were avoiding was horny.

Wendy had been the one to get you to admit it during your last weekly phone call. You told her about the shirtless incident and the first thing she asked was if you had plans to throw out the washing machine and instead start doing your laundry on Johnny’s abs, which did not help your predicament any further. It was also Wendy who had pointed out that you’d been alone on this farm for almost two months with a dog and a man too pretty for his own good, and despite how he represented everything you were annoyed at in life at the moment, after seeing his half naked figure, it would only be natural for you to have been a little turned on. And a little turned on was exactly where you were— for the last week, you had been going on runs every night to release the excess pent up energy you suddenly had.

The last time you exercised this much you were still in college. Back then you went on hour long runs through the city with your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ because it was the only way you weren’t constantly bombarded with an on onslaught of messages from classmates, friends, family, or your on campus job that took up way too much of your time. And now, you found yourself returning to old habits, this time because what, you were too proud to just rub one out like the rest of humanity? (That phrasing, too, was courtesy of your best friend, when she again reminded you of your failure to pack your vibrator.)

After another eight miles up and down the road outside the farm that ran along the island’s coast your legs felt like absolute jello when you finished, but your head was empty enough that you were able to return to the property and exist near Johnny in peace. You walked by the barn on your way up to the farmhouse, sticking your head inside briefly to look for him. You didn’t hear any noise, and didn’t find him at first glance, but didn’t think much of it as you went back inside.

The dog was already in the kitchen, so that should have been your first clue. You opened the fridge and peered inside, pulling out a number of assorted ingredients to make a lemon cream sauce for pasta with chicken.

You set a pot of water to boil, turned the oven on to preheat, and began melting butter, garlic, oil, and a variety of herbs in a sauce pan. That plus the low hum of the overhead fan meant just enough noise that you couldn’t hear the water running from the small shower on the other side of the house, and you didn’t think twice as the heat cast off by the appliances made you feel even stuffier post-run, and you peeled your shirt off your body and rolled the waistband of your shorts down an inch, pressing your bare feet flat against the hardwood flooring to try and get some semblance of cooling relief.

It was only a few moments later, with the water boiling and pasta cooking inside and the chicken already seasoned and in the oven, when you peered over the bubbling sauce pan and dipped the edge of your pinky into the mixture to bring just a taste up to your mouth. Just like you’d hoped, it was light and had a kick of citrus to it from the lemon, but not so much that it was overpowering. You closed your eyes and hummed in appreciation as you licked the sauce off, which, in retrospect, probably sounded far too much like a moan for your own good.

“Jesus fuck—”

And suddenly, you realized you weren’t alone inside the house.

You screamed at first from the shock of being startled by the noise, and then again when it registered in your brain that Johnny was standing in the kitchen, hair dripping wet, chest bare and abdominal muscles just as defined as the last time you’d seen them, face flushed in some sort of embarrassment with a bath towel wrapped around his hips.

Johnny was fresh out of the shower, nearly naked in your kitchen, clutching his clothes balled up in his left hand.

You scream again.

“What are you doing?!” You shrieked out, raising your voice over the dog’s excited barking at the commotion the two of you had begun making.

He stammered for a moment, clearly frozen in place. “I was just! You were gone, and I was done for the day, so I took a shower but I— I forgot my change of clothes in my room and these towels are small and just— Jesus why are you wearing so little clothing?!”

Your fury returned full force at the comment. “Why am I wearing so little clothing? You’re in a towel for fuck’s sake! This is my house, I live here! I should be the one asking you where your clothes are!”

“They’re here, in my hand!” He yelled back, waving the bundle around frantically. “I just said I forgot them when I went to shower!”

Your eyes bugged out of you head as your gaze traveled down, taking in the entirety of the figure before you and— oh.

“Are you… are you hard right now?” You asked in bewilderment.

The way the color drained out of Johnny’s face and the speed with which he moved the bundle of clothing to hold it over the space between his legs answered your question.

“Oh, my god.” Exasperated, you slammed your eyes shut and held your hands up by your sides. “What the fuck, John.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— fuck, shit I made it weird— please don’t get mad, I can totally fix this,” he started spewing apologies, and you heard him take two steps closer to you. “Wait, were you looking at my dick?”

“Ah!” You spat out, turning away from him. His question was valid but you had no intention of acknowledging it. “Out! Get out of my house, go… somewhere else until that goes away or you can, I don’t know, take care of it!” You instantly thought of the implication of your words and then yelled again. “No— don’t— fuck, don’t do that! Jesus for the love of god don’t take care of it while I’m standing here—” you were stammering and beyond flustered. How the fuck were you supposed to talk to someone who had just gotten a fucking boner by looking at you, sweaty in a sports bra, while sucking a cream colored substance off the tip of your pinky?

You exhaled deeply, eyes still closed. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to go to your room. I am going to finish cooking my dinner. You will be absolutely silent until you hear me leave. I will be staying at the condo for the next week. You will either ration the leftovers or fend for yourself, I do not care. Got it?” You signed out again, eyes flicking open. Johnny held his bundle of clothes in front of his legs and nodded his head once, not bothering with any comeback before he shuffled to the guest room and shut the door quietly.

It took another twenty minutes for the meat to finish cooking and the dish to be full prepared. How you managed to keep your head empty and shut off your internal monologue during that time, you’ll never know, but you were thankful for it nonetheless. You packed two servings into a Tupperware container for yourself before shoving some clothes in a duffle bag and grabbing the keys to the jeep you hated driving. It was only about ten minutes down the road to the condo, but it was almost fifteen miles, so you figured this was the lesser of two evils. You whistled for the dog to follow you, and it was all too excited to jump in the passenger seat of the car. The farmhouse was now dry of liquor, what with Yunho not making good on his promise a month ago and your weekly wine dates with Wendy, but you knew the condo definitely had some spirits stashed somewhere in a cabinet. You were going to need that and a nice hot bath to destress after that encounter.

Meanwhile, Johnny sunk down on to the floor inside the guest room, his back pressed against the door. When he heard the sound of the jeep’s engine turning over, he sighed in relief and ran a hand through his hair. There were no better words to describe it: he was truly and utterly fucked.

✧ ✧ ✧

You stayed at the condo only for three days, and did little other than sleep, binge watch some TV since there was better electricity and internet here, and eat your way through slightly stale bags of chips and frost bitten freezer dinners that were months old. Because you couldn’t just open the door and let the dog out to run through the property for whatever exercise or bathroom needs it had, you had to actually walk it with a leash and everything. You paid less attention to how domestic the action of clipping the leash on to the collar you’d found in an unopened delivery package on the kitchen table was, and thought more about how slothful you’d felt over the last 60-odd hours of self isolation, especially after two months of working outdoors every day.

It was childish to keep hiding from Johnny. It’s not like you could prove that he’d gotten hard looking at you, and really, shouldn’t you take it as sort of a compliment? (Well, maybe you wouldn’t go that far.)

It was Monday when you returned to the farm, parking the jeep back by the barn and hip checking the door shut after the dog went running off in search of Johnny. It found him carrying pruned branches of trees down to the area where you burned excess brush, and you could hear the excited sound of his voice at the return of the creature as you walked slowly down the hill towards him.

“I missed you! It’s been so lonely without you, but I guess I’m glad your mommy had you with her, huh?” He cooed at the dog, rubbing its face in his hands after dropping the bundle of branches and flopping its ears from side to side. Hearing Johnny refer to you as a mother, even of the animal, had you grimacing.

“Ew,” you said, making your presence known. He stood up suddenly, possibly just a little embarrassed.

“Oh! You’re uh, you’re back.” You nodded, lips pressed together in a flat line. Your hands were full, carrying two takeout coffees from a shop down near the condo you’d stopped at on the way back. You’d forgotten how much the farm felt like a different planet, a different space in time almost, because of how isolated it felt. The act of ordering a coffee to go rather than making it yourself in the morning was equal parts bewildering and soothing.

You had no idea what compelled you to order an iced americano along with the cortado you’d gotten for yourself. You didn’t really know much about Johnny beyond the one conversation you’d had about how he ended up meeting your brother in law and crashing on the farm with you in the first place. But somehow, ordering the drink had felt right, and you thought of it as a potential peace offering to cut the tension.

“This is yours,” you said plainly after some thought, trying to remove any and all emotion from your tone.

He blinked a few times before taking three steps towards you and reaching his hand out to take the drink. He mumbled a soft thank you and sipped without bothering to ask what was inside.

“You’re just going to take the drink a stranger offers you, no questions asked?”

“Ooh!” His eyes perked up when he tasted the coffee. “I mean, I’ve never questioned any of the food you’ve made me so far, why start now? Besides,” he shrugged, taking another sip, “I trust you.”

You snorted. “That’s a stupid thing to do.”

Johnny laughed again, eyes crinkling at the sides. Your mind wandered briefly to a half formed thought about how endearing that was. “Maybe so, but despite your efforts to make me an enemy, I think you’re actually a really good person. You even guessed my favorite coffee drink, so that has to count for something.” He nodded to the paper cup in your hand. “What’s your poison?”

“Cortado,” responded curtly, ignoring his comments that were cutting a bit too deep for ten in the morning.

“Ah, a strong espresso pull with a balance of steam milk and a touch of foam. Nice choice. I can definitely appreciate one, but I’m a little too impatient and drink them too quickly— I think that’s why I love americanos so much, because it lasts a little longer.”

You tilted you head to the side, puzzled. “Wait. You… actually know things about coffee?”

“I mean, yeah,” he laughed, “What do you think I spent three hours talking with Yunho about the day we met? I did my time as a barista in college. Free coffee every shift was hard to pass up when you’re doing almost a double course load every other semester. I’ve always been curious about the growing and roasting process, and I know a lot of people do home roasting as a hobby but I just never made the time to explore it.”

Well, duh, you thought, that actually made sense. “Oh god, and here I’ve been making my lame ass bitter pour over all summer— you know how to pull a shot of espresso then I take it? You’ve seen the La Marzocco on the counter, how come you’ve never used it?”

He pouted his lips out in a flat line and shrugged comically. “Dunno. I mean, I’m a guest and a worker first, and it’s not mine, so, I didn’t wanna make any assumptions. But if this is an open invitation to use it, I’m more than happy to accept.”

You chewed on the inside of your mouth for a moment. You could feel it in the air as the hairs on your arms stood up slightly, goosebumps running down your skin. You hoped in wasn’t too noticeable. Maybe this was it— maybe it really was time to extend an olive branch and have more than half a conversation with him every four days. “It’s a little older and sort of temperamental, but it’s still a good machine. I’ll… show you the quirks tomorrow morning, or whenever you want something to drink,” you offered.

It was then that you discovered this: Johnny was not a great actor. He wore his heart on his sleeve. You figured this to be true because he could barely contain the smile that spread across his face, and the energetic nod he gave, and the mild soft exhale (squeal?) of excitement. You rolled your eyes gently and turned away, drink in hand. “When it cools down later after dinner, I’m roasting tonight. You’re welcome to join.”

You gave him the benefit of not bearing witness to the fist pump he made as you walked away.

Dinner that night was stir fried ground pork with carrots and zucchini from the garden served over rice. It was one of your comfort dishes, easy to make and easy to clean up after, since it used only two pans. As soon as you’d finished eating, this time sitting at the table together with Johnny, he’d cleared the dishes and got to cleaning up right away. You stretched your arms overhead and leaned back in your chair far enough to crack your back slightly with a loud pop.

“Oof, that sounded like it felt good,” he laughed from the sink. You hummed in agreement. “So what’d you do before this? Desk job hunched over a computer like the rest of us?”

“Mmm something like that. You may have been bored out of your mind in business, but I sold my soul years ago to work in advertising.”

“Why does that like, fit?” He asked, turning the water off and drying the pan you’d used for cooking by hand.

“You saying I have no soul?” You challenged.

He shrugged. “Hey, you said it, not me. We’re both just cogs in the machine that is late stage capitalism, I guess.”

You didn’t know how deeply you wanted to get into it with Johnny just yet. Maybe eventually, but, not right now. “Yeah, well, I was just a Project Manager, not like a Copywriter or anything. Did you know Yunho was a staff Art Director before he switched to the coffee business full time? We used to work at the same agency a few years back.”

Johnny snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “Ah, that’s right! I remember him saying something about that, made the same jokes about having no soul. You two are a lot alike for not being related by blood.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong; sometimes you wondered if you’d become closer with Yunho that you were with your sister at this point. “Enough about that. If you’re done follow me, it’s probably cool enough to fire up the roaster. I just want to do a test batch of like, five pounds with the regular beans to see how this year’s harvest takes to our standard roast,” you explained, heading to the door and slipping on your sneakers. “Don’t let the dog out, it gets scared from the loud noises and I don’t need it freaking out.”

Johnny dried his hands and followed after you to the barn. You flicked on the lights and went straight for the sink to pull your hair out of your face, wash your hands, and put on a pair of gloves and a mask. Johnny followed your lead, even going so far as to tie up the top layer of his hair on top of his head. “Hey look! It’s like an apple,” he bobbed his head from side to side to make the tiny ponytail move back and forth, and you couldn’t help but snort as you tried to suppress your laughter.

“Dork,” was all you said. You went to the storage racks to pick up one of the sorted burlap bags of beans and hoisted it over your shoulder to carry it to a metal prep table where you carefully opened it and began scooping out the green beans and pouring them into a bowl on a metal scale that had been zeroed out. “So  obviously you know that coffee is counted by weight in pounds. That monstrosity,” you jerked your head in the direction of the massive eight foot tall machine in the corner of the room, “Can handle up to twenty-five pounds of beans in the barrel at a time. Because it’s so big, it’s best to not do super small batches, otherwise you risk burning the beans. Since I’m going for five pounds, it’ll be okay, but if I was doing any less I’d use one of the table top roasters, since they have a smaller barrel.” You finished weighing out five pounds and handed the container to him to carry.

You continued explaining the full process of roasting and science behind it as you flipped switches, checked that the exhaust was hooked up properly, and set the dials for the heat and time on the industrial roaster before pulling the door to the funnel open and having Johnny slowly pour the beans inside. “God you’re a fucking giant, I always need a step stool to reach that high,” you commented as he made the reach with ease.

You weren’t kidding when you said the roaster was loud when it was running. Thankfully with the size of the machine and this batch, it was only eleven minutes of the two of you standing just a few feet away in case anything went wrong and you had to hit the emergency stop, holding your hands over your ears to block the sound. Johnny began jokingly exaggerating mouthing something out, and you felt almost like friends as you laughed at his antics. You were never the best at reading lips. Especially not Johnny’s, they were too full and distracting on their own for you to make sense of the mouth shapes. When the machine came to a grinding halt and the noise suddenly stopped, he was still shouting words and his voice echoed around the space in the absence of the noise, “I said, I think you’re— oh, wow, that was fast,” he quickly diverted, catching himself from finishing whatever it was he was about to say.

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of trying to pry out of him what he was in the process of saying under the protection of the loud noises. You shook it off mentally and showed him how to remove the beans from the roasting chamber. “So you take them out like this, and then they’re still going to be warm for a while, so it’s best to let them rest for a bit. If you were to brew them right away, the flavor might not be what you’re expecting, so if you wait for them to sit for a few days, you’ll notice a considerable difference in the flavor profile—”

You stopped suddenly, a sound in the distance suddenly registering to you. You left Johnny standing there with the roasted coffee in hand and trailed to the edge of the barn and then you heard it more clearly— the sound of the old rotary phone ringing. “Oh, shit,” you swore and took off running back up to the house. The only person who had the number for the landline other than Wendy were Yunho and your sister. Wendy didn’t call you outside of your Thursday night appointments. You did the math in your head— it was the end of June, your sister’s due date wasn’t til the end of August, but early labor was always something you’d heard about, especially with more than one baby.

Hands shaking, you got to the phone on what could have been the last ring and panted out a greeting of Yunho’s name, already knowing it was him.

“Oh thank god you answered, I’ve been calling for the last twenty minutes, where were you?” He chastised immediately. You felt uneasy at the tone in his voice.

You stammered in response. “I— we were in the barn, I was roasting so I couldn’t hear the phone— what’s wrong? Is she okay?”

Yunho sighed out heavily and was quiet. “She’s going to be okay, but there was a… scare,” you could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “I don’t want to freak you out, but I don’t want to not tell you either. She slipped getting out of the shower, landed on her hip. Started having lower abdominal pain right after. We thought maybe it was going to be now, but, she’s fine. The doctors think they were phantom contractions? Whatever they were they’re gone now. The babies are fine, but she’ll most likely be in the hospital until the due date. If she starts experiencing any kind of contractions between now and then, though, they’ll want to induce labor.” You could tell he was still stressed and worried, but you nodded and listened as he explained some of the medical details a bit further. “Anyways, all this to say, the next time I call, it could be to tell you that you’re an auntie.”

From the moment you heard the phone ringing this late at night and calculated that it was almost two in the morning in Chicago, the tightness in your chest had been building. Listening to Yunho speak delicately about your sister’s condition was one thing— you thought it was a sigh of relief when he said that everything was fine, but then it was most certainly not fine when the gravity of his last words really hit you.

“Little Bean are you listening? Is the signal bad? I know the connection isn’t always great—”

You inhaled sharply as the pressure inside came to a head. “Yunho I gotta go,” you gasped out, barely able to make sense of thoughts to get the words out.

Before you could hear his rebuttal you slammed the phone on to the receiver to end the call and covered your face with your hands still in their nylon gloves. Despite standing in an open space, you suddenly felt like the room was spinning and the walls were closing in on you. Out, out, you had to get out—

“Hey, everything okay in here?”

Fuck.

Johnny was standing in the door, a look of concern on his face. You heaved into your hands and choked out a sob, feeling the wetness in your eyes building. No no no, everything was most certainly not okay in here. You shouldn’t have made eye contact, you should have known better, because looking at his face, his stupid perfect face and his genuine care for your wellbeing, it set you free falling over the precipice.

You were spiraling, and hard, and needed to land. It was instinctual, the way you cried out and ran pushing past him before breaking into an all out sprint down the hill to the fruit trees. Your legs barely kept up with the velocity of running at a decline, stopping short of tumbling and falling forward. The only thing that you knew to help this, the thing that had worked for you in the past, and you raced through the grove of trees for the larger one at the very end. It was one of the older trees, well mature and established with its root system, so you could always expect it to produce fruit.

But you’d harvested a large amount of the fruit in the last few weeks from the lower branches, and the only remaining fruit that would be ripe enough for your purposes was on the higher branches just out of reach. Over the sound of your pained sobs, you couldn’t hear Johnny’s approach or him asking what was wrong, your one track mind just trying desperately to jump and reach, fingertips barely brushing on the fruit you were reaching for.

“Hey hey, calm down, what are you—” he started.

“Shut up! Just shut— don’t tell— don’t tell me calm— calm—” you couldn’t make the words make sense, in your head you were screaming don’t tell me to calm down, but the act of translating that into words on your tongue was downright Herculean right now, it just wasn’t happening. Your knees began wobbling and standing too started feeling impossible. The tightness in your chest had expanded to reach your back, and though you were clearly still getting air by the fact that you hadn’t passed out yet, you felt like you weren’t breathing at all. You were crying outright now, tears wet and hot and painful as the sobs escaped your throat.

It didn’t take a genius to figure that you were trying to reach a fruit on a branch just above your wingspan. Johnny placed one large hand against your back gently and reached all the way up, fingers wrapping around what he assumed was the object of your fixation, before twisting and pulling to release it from the tree. “Hey,” he said softly, “This what you need?”

As soon as you made sense of the object in front of you you seized it from his hands, biting directly through the rind of the lemon. A muffled sob came out as your knees buckled and you sank to the ground. The bitter rush of citrus did part of its job, and brought your consciousness back down to earth. But your breathing didn’t steady, and your heart was still pounding, and the tears were still falling.

It wasn’t working, your grounding technique; not like it had the previous times, like the night you’d first gotten the phone call from Yunho saying they weren’t coming, and not like the time you bit into a lemon in the kitchen at work after first getting the phone call that your sister was pregnant, and even the time before that when she told you she and Yunho were moving, or when Yunho had asked you if he could marry your sister. If you were more with it, you would have thought for a moment longer about how all of your largest panic attacks of the last several years seemed to be linked to things about Yunho and your sister. Biting into a whole lemon had been your go-to for years, and suddenly, it wasn’t working.

“Fuck!” You cried out, spitting the lemon into your palms, “Fuck fuck fuck! Why isn’t it— why isn’t it working?!” Your words were absolutely frantic, and you were yelling at yourself more than your companion who, quite frankly, you’d forgotten was even there.

Until you felt a shadow pass over you in the moonlight and a pair of arms enveloping you in an embrace.

The top of your head was pressed against his chest and his hands found their way to the planes of your back and began rubbing soft circles. Softly he tutted out a shushing noise, voice barely above a whisper, steady. “Come on, let it out, I’m right here. I’ve got you, you’re not alone,” he said calmly, “You’re gonna get through it. Try to take a deep breath, that’s good now hold it as long as you can— okay, that’s okay, try again, try to hold on to it and let it out slowly this time.”

You’d never had anyone physically with you and help you through a panic attack before. You’d had them around people in the past, but no one had ever made a move to help you through it— not like this, not like him, not like he was doing right now by attempting to guide your breathing. The one time you had one in front on Wendy, you’d locked yourself in the bathroom and refused to answer her while you came down, and she never pressed you about it afterwards.

You had no idea how much time passed as Johnny held you in his arms, keeping a steady rhythm of his palms on your back and letting you cry it out into the fabric of his shirt, your hands wringing the material so strongly you thought you’d tear holes where your nails were.

One hand traveled to the back of your head and he stroked that too. “I’ve got you, I’m right here,” he said again.

After a longer period of silence, your ears stopped ringing and you could finally make out the chirping of the crickets in the night. You sniffled and rubbed the last of the trails the tears had left on your cheeks into his shirt, mumbling an apology into it.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly, keeping his voice low, almost as if he was afraid he’d scare you off if he raised it any higher. “I mean— haha, don’t apologize. It’s okay, whatever it is, it’ll wash out. If it doesn’t, it’s just a tee shirt, I can always buy another.” His tone was even paced and calm, and in pressing your ear against his chest you could hear the reverberations as he spoke.

The humid summer air was heavy as usual, even this late at night. You don’t know how long you sat there in silence, wrapped in Johnny’s arms listening to his heartbeat, but eventually you acknowledged that your heart was beating in time with his. Whether you liked it or not, he had been the thing to ground you, and not a stupid fucking lemon.

You shifted slightly, making a move to stand, but Johnny stopped you. “Whoa whoa, hang on lemme get ready— okay, hold on to my shoulders, that’s it.” Your fingers dug into his arms as he adjusted his legs and hooked one arm under your knees and the other around your back and stood up, taking you with him.

“Shit,” you mumbled out, head rushing at the quick movement and the realization that your legs were still bent over his arm, and Johnny was now carrying you. “Hey, heavy,” your words were still soft.

“Mmm, nah, nothing I can’t handle,” his response was easy, dismissive of your complaint, but not in a bad way. “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to but— anxiety? Panic attack?” You sucked in a breath at the word. You hated that word. That word made you feel weak, even if it was exactly what this was. You dug your nails into his skin slightly on a reflex of bracing yourself, not with this intention of inflicting damage. “Got it. I get it,” he had approached the house and walked to the door, reaching for the handle with the hand under your knees. “I’ve had a few myself. Not recently, but back in college, maybe two or three? Don’t think they were ever as strong as that, though. I tried the lemon trick once, it actually worked pretty well for me. Didn’t make the next time I did a tequila shot all that fun though, couldn’t enjoy citrus for at least a month after that.” His soft laughter shook his chest and you leaned in further. Listening to his voice was comforting. It was keeping you steady. It made you feel safe, and in this moment, you were too tired to think about how you probably should have hated that. “Think you could swallow some water? Rehydrating is important.”

Your head nodded. “Okay, I’m gonna put you down now.” He used his foot to push one of the chairs away from the table and set you down on to the seat gently. The dog was immediately at your knees, whining lowly and attempting to give as many kisses as you’d accept. “Here,” he said gently, crouching down in front of you and holding a glass out. “Drink what can, but not too fast. There you go, that’s it,” his large hand clasped over your knee, thumb rubbing circles on the side. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah,” you rasped out, voice raw from all the crying earlier.

Johnny smiled softly. “Good, that’s good. Okay, I think you need to get to bed, yeah? Or do you wanna take a shower or something first?” You shook your head. “Okay, just washed your face then?” You nodded. Your conscious monologue was returning, but bringing words from your mind to your mouth was still proving difficult. Johnny didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he offered you his hand. “Need help getting up?”

You answered by gripping on to his hand and using his shoulders to help you stand up. Johnny walked you to your room, holding his arm out for you as a guide. You were able to bear weight on your feet now, and though your steps were slow, you made it to the bathroom to wash your face and and change into sleepwear. Johnny waited by the door, averting his eyes for privacy for you, and returned to your side to help you into bed.

When he leaned over you to pull the sheets up, you reached for his wrist and asked, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

His face went blank before it softened into a smile. “Because. I told you earlier, didn’t I? You’re a good person. Should be simple as that, yeah?”

You didn’t have a response for him, only shifting deeper into the pillows. He turned off the light and retreated to the door frame. “Try and get some rest. Call me if you need me, okay?”

Your head managed a nod, and Johnny finally left, leaving the door to your room slightly ajar. You listened for the sounds of him milling about the house, his footsteps softly shuffling against the floorboards, a few mumbled words to the dog that followed at his heels, until you finally fell asleep.

When you dreamed that night, you dreamt of him, the sound of his voice, and the way your blood felt on fire whenever he looked at you and smiled.

✧ ✧ ✧

Johnny never asked you about the panic attack.

He didn’t bring it up, he didn’t ask what caused it, he didn’t even allude to it in any conversation over the next week. The next day he was just a little bit more gentle with you with the tone and volume of his speaking voice, but when you showed no signs of still be affected from the previous night, he let it go and didn’t bother you about it.

You couldn’t tell if you loved him or hated him for it.

Confusion on your feelings aside, as June came to a close and the morning of July 3rd came, you woke up to the sound of the espresso machine running. Johnny had very quickly proven that he was worth his salt as a barista, even though it had been several years, and had a very nice shot pull. He even figured out the steamer, which was the most finicky part of the machine, and had been making you cortados every morning. That’s what you were sipping now from a metal camper mug, as you walked with him to the shed.

“I think that all that’s left is nailing down that last sheet of roofing and then we’re done,” he hummed cheerfully, inspecting the building. It looked brand new, a marked improvement from the broken windows and bleached paint job it had sported two months ago.

Two months. Was that really how long he’d been here? You didn’t want to think too much about it, about how those two months gone meant you had reached the half way point, and that there were about two months left.

Two months…

“We should celebrate,” he said suddenly, and you looked up puzzled.

“We?”

“Sure!” He exclaimed, “I had no idea what I was doing. I just did what you told me to. This was one of the biggest projects for the summer, right? And plus, not that I care too much for the holiday, but won’t there be fireworks and stuff for the Fourth? Come on, this house has been dry for weeks, let’s go get some booze and live a little, huh?” He prodded your side with his elbow and began needling at you, saying huh, huh, huh over and over until you groaned and relented.

“Fiiiiiine, let’s go before the stores get crowded when everyone realizes everything’s gonna be closed tomorrow.”

The dog was less than pleased that you’d sent it back into the house when you picked up the keys to the jeep. Usually you took it with you, but this time you decided against it, since you weren’t sure how the liquor store would feel with you bringing the stray dog off leash into the store with you.

“All you, big guy,” you said to Johnny as you tossed the car keys at him.

“Aren’t you gonna ask if I know how to drive first?” He quipped back quickly while walking to the driver’s side.

“Nah,” you shrugged comically, hoisting yourself up by the frame of the car. You buckled yourself in and watched as he did the same and adjusted the mirrors for his height. “Besides,” you looked down to inspect your fingernails as if they were the most fascinating thing on the planet, “I trust you, or whatever.”

“Bit of a stupid thing to do, but alright,” he smiled, echoing your words back at you. “Kidding, I’m an excellent driver. Alright, co-pilot! You have the most sacred duty bestowed upon you—”

“Navigation?”

“No, music selection, duh,” he scoffed and handed you the aux cord and pulled out a cell phone you’d never seen him hold before. You stared at the device as he unlocked it and pulled up his music library. Johnny noticed your surprised expression out of the corner of his eye. “What, it’s not like I have a use for it out here. Your wifi sucks and I’m not about to rack up a huge cell phone bill, so it stays off in my duffle bag most of the time. Anyways, this is a test! Pick whatever your heart desires.” The smirk on his face was beyond mischievous as he handed it to you.

You sighed and settled into the seat and began scrolling. What to pick, what to pick…

Surprisingly, there was a decent number of songs you recognized, and one album in particular you were a fan of. You scrolled down the track listing to about the half way point and pressed play.

The sounds of The Killers and the familiar guitar chords that were practically sewn into your DNA began to filter through the speakers. Johnny smiled and started clapping as the car reached the bottom of the driveway and he flipped on the turn signal. “Oh my god, Mr. Brightside, excellent choice! Okay, you passed the first test. But do you know the words?” He teased.

You gasped in feigned offense as the lyrics came to the chorus, and as he accelerated up to speed you began to belt the words out as loud as you could manage. For once you weren’t thinking about how you hated that the jeep had no top while the wind whipped past you on all sides as Johnny sped down the highway. As the song played, the magic high of belting the words to something fifteen years old that were still imprinted in your brain didn’t seem to wear off like you’d expected it to.

“Alright, chop chop what’s next maestro!” He called over the sound of the wind as the song came to a close. You already had something queued up, something a little more recent, and you smiled as the words to the next song began filtering through the speakers, letting the music carry the drive and not belting along with it this time. You tried to not think too deeply about the lyrics of the chorus as it played.  

'Cause you're the last of a dying breed Write our names in the wet concrete I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me? I'm here in search of your glory There's been a million before me That ultra-kind of love You never walk away from You're just the last of the real ones

As the bridge played and you neared your destination, Johnny tilted his head towards you while keeping his eyes on the road. “Growing up, it was like, a badge of honor as a Chicago kid to have gone to a Fall Out Boy show when they still played the smaller clubs. I snuck into one when I was 16— it was an 18 and over show— felt like I was hot shit when I got away with it.”

“Don’t know why, but you don’t strike me as a Fall Out Boy fan,” you admitted. From your scroll through his music library, you saw most of their discography saved to his phone.

“Hey, I had my embarrassing wannabe emo phase too.”

“Had?” You couldn’t stop yourself from teasing. Johnny didn’t give a response to that one, and as another Fall Out Boy song played through the speakers you let yourself rest in a comfortable lack of conversation, instead sharing the music with him as he drove. It only took to the end of that third song to reach your destination and based on how he handled the drive and parking, true to his word Johnny was an excellent driver.

Johnny followed you closely once inside, his eyes scanning up and down the shelves of the tiny liquor store before he reaches and picks up a six pack of pilsner. “You ever try this one?”

Your nose wrinkles in disgust. “I don’t do beer.”

Johnny blinks twice in response and plops the six pack back down on the shelf. “Noted. What do you drink?”

“If I’m picking?” He nods. “I’m a slut for rosé or champagne. Any sparkling wine, really, it makes me feel fancy and you get to turn basic days into little celebrations.” You follow him as he walks down the aisle to where the selection of wine was shelved and starts looking through the options. “Hang on, you’re not gonna grill me about the beer thing?”

“You say that like your friends usually give you shit for it.”

You crossed your arms and shuffle your feet underneath you. “Well, yeah. Usually.”

“Then I would say,” he trails off for a moment, bending and squatting to see a label on a lower shelf before picking up two bottles of the same brand, “You need new friends. Or that your current ones need to learn boundaries, take your pick. How’s this look for one option? Since this is a celebration and all,” he says with a wink.

Leaning forward, you study the label on the bottle for a moment before nodding in approval. You agree to his point that since they were 15% off if you bought six or more bottles, it only made sense to buy more, and besides, “It’s not like you won’t drink them eventually when you’re on the phone with Wendy.”

Your eyebrows shot up at that. “How do you know her name?”

“I’m quiet not deaf, and you’re louder than you think you are,” he says matter-of-factly before heading to the cashier to pay for your selection. You bite your tongue then, hoping to whatever deity was watching you (and probably laughing) that he’d overheard one of the conversations that wasn’t about Wendy insisting you should bone him.

Johnny picks the music on the way back, opting for some Bleachers and Paramore now that he knew at least part of your music taste and how it aligned with his.

Your new selection of wine goes into the fridge as soon as you get home, and Johnny heads to the shed with a ladder in hand to climb on top and finish nailing down the roofing. You opt to help with this task, spotting from the ground and continuously yelling for him to ‘be careful’ and ‘you better not fall and break your neck while I’m watching’. It takes a little over an hour, and it’s late afternoon when he finishes, but when you climb the ladder yourself as he holds it steady from the ground to inspect his handiwork you have to say you’re impressed.

“You sure you never did construction work before? You’ve got shockingly good craftsmanship for a newbie.”

“My dad’s pretty self sufficient so he was always doing the handiwork around the house. Picked stuff up here and there from him growing up, but anything I didn’t know I could just look up on the internet.” You shoot him a pointed look. “What! I said your wifi was shitty not that I didn’t use it every now and again. There’s a YouTube tutorial for everything these days.”

Johnny insisted on cleaning up the last of the debris on his own while you worked on dinner— another pasta dish, orecchiette broccoli rabe, and while that was cooking you boil a pint of blackberries with water and sugar to make a flavored simple syrup. Since you were celebrating tonight, it only felt right to put in a little extra effort even to the drinks of choice. Kir Royales were typically made with a blackcurrant liquor, but it was a niche product you hadn’t found in the store, so the syrup and a slice of lemon for garnish would have to do.

While you waited for Johnny to finish up and take his shower (after the last time, you gave him plenty of space out of an abundance of caution whenever he showered), you started rummaging through the pantry cabinets and making sense of the dry ingredients you had on hand. You had time to kill, why not make a dessert with it?

You hadn’t talked about it much with Johnny, but you actually did enjoy cooking and baking. Something about spending time and energy making something and having someone consume it and tell you they liked made you feel good. You still remember the first time you made breakfast for a hungover Wendy in college and she raved about it for days, though you were pretty sure back then it was because the carbs soaked up the remaining alcohol in her system and stopped her from puking.

Dinner was finished when Johnny finally came out of the shower, this time fully clothed and his hair more dry. You explained that you’d gotten bored and made cookie dough but the oven hadn’t finished pre-heating yet so nothing was baked.

“Fuck it, cookie dough is always better than the cookies themselves,” he shrugged.

“But salmonella—”

Johnny held up a hand jokingly as he stopped your interjection and turned off the oven. “Still convinced that’s a myth parents made up to stop kids from actually enjoying childhood. Plus it’s hot as balls, chill the dough while we eat and then it’ll be even better after. Plus, you haven’t poisoned either of us yet, I think your track record is pretty good so far.” (There he went again, referring to you and him as an ‘us’.)

So you did just that, putting the cookie dough into the fridge and taking your dinner outside with the cocktails you’d made. You didn’t have any wine glasses here at the farm house— after breaking one stemmed glass during your first phone call with Wendy you’d moved the rest to the condo and replaced the drink ware with mason jars because the clean up was too annoying. Plus, you didn’t want to risk the dog stepping on stray shards of thin glass and getting them stuck in the pads of its paws. (You were still decidedly apathetic towards it, but that didn’t mean you were cruel).

So it was in the wide mouth Kerr jars that you poured your blackberry syrup and a half a bottle of champagne, after a comical exchange of Johnny insisting he wasn’t scared of the pop! that corks made coming out of pressurized bottles and the yelp he let out anyways when it happened as expected. The lemon slice garnish was more of an aesthetic touch than anything but you liked it nonetheless.When Johnny pulls out his phone for the second time that day and insists on playing music and making a dramatic toast before you could drink, you could only laugh and agree.

“To the best Boss I’ve ever had,” he said with a raised glass, “Even though you used me for cheap labor and to do all the hard shit.”

“Rude! I cook every day, look at all the chances I’ve had to poison you and how many times have I done it? Absolutely none because I am a saint and you know it.”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, the music, the low hum of crickets, the starry night sky, or the summer heat that did it, but time flowed so easily, and so did the conversation and teasing banter. Over the course of one meal you’d exchanged more words with Johnny than you had in the whole two months you’d known each other. Two hours later and you’d finished all the dinner (of course there were no leftovers, Johnny was still Johnny, but the amount of manual labor he did in a day made sense of how much he usually ate, you’d come to realize). The bowl of cookie dough was now sitting on the step of the lanai and you and Johnny were side by side on the deck, looking out over the farm and taking the occasional spoonful of dough into your mouths. He was right— the dough did taste better than the baked cookies probably would have, especially after it had chilled for a bit. With the way the stars and moon were hung in the cloudless sky, you could see the soft glow of their reflection in the water beyond the highway and the cliff leading to the beach.

“You ever go down to the shore?” He asks suddenly, and it feels out of nowhere and like he’s inside your head because how else would he have known you were just thinking about the ocean? But then you register that Andrew McMahon’s voice has just crooned something about Venice Beach and the California summer in the music that had still been playing through the speakers of Johnny’s phone.

You hummed for a moment before answering. “Not really. I should make more time for it, but I rarely ever leave the farm, as you probably noticed. I know this place is paradise for so many people, the vacation destination on a lot of bucket lists, but I think my… circumstances made me bitter towards the island, conceptually speaking anyways.” You watched the water with a bit more focus as a few waves crested, but you couldn’t see enough of the shore to see them actually crash. “I know I don’t talk about it much but, I needed a break from my work too. That’s… part of the reason I’m here, why I was waiting for my sister and Yunho to come out. It’s a much less interesting story than yours, so I won’t bore you with the details,” you wanted to reroute the subject before any questions started getting asked, but deep down you knew Johnny wasn’t going to press you for anything you weren’t ready to share. He’d figured that much out about you anyways.

“Anyways, maybe you’re on to something, Seo. Maybe I should take some time to actually relax a bit, seeing as now that I’ve tricked you into finishing the most difficult and time consuming of the summer projects Yunho had planned,” you stuck your tongue out between your teeth jokingly in an effort to mask the vulnerability you’d briefly shown.

Johnny took the hint and changed the subject. “The Killers, Bleachers, Paramore, Fall Out Boy… not saying I don’t like your taste in music, but I’m surprised it’s your picks were so astoundingly pop-punk-rock. Woulda taken you for a—”

“If you finish that sentence by saying ‘country kinda girl’ I’m locking you out tonight and taking the cookie dough with me,” you warned.

He laughed and shook his head. “No, you strike me as too high strung to enjoy country. Like it’s typically too slow for your tastes, or something like that.”

“Oh I’m obnoxious about my taste in media, if you couldn’t already tell. I’ve listened to mostly the same artists for the last ten years. In high school I was that kid that thought making it known that I ‘didn’t listen to the radio pop main stream’ was a personality trait, whatever that meant.”

“Oooh, so edgy and mysterious, did she used to cut her own bangs too?” He giggled into his mason jar, taking another sip.

“Nooo, that was only one time and I swear it was on a dare and not because of a break up!” You jokingly wailed out, throwing your head back in exaggeration. “Although I do regularly trim Wendy’s bangs for her because she can’t be trusted with sharp objects. Knives, needles, scissors, none of it, girl’s a total klutz,” you took another sip and uncorked the bottle again to refill your jar. You held the remainder up for Johnny to see, silently asking if he wanted a top off to finish the last of the second bottle you’d opened.

Johnny was a big guy— tall and muscular, you were sure it would take him a bit more than a bottle or two of shared champagne to get him tipsy. That’s why you didn’t think too much of it as he stared into the reinvigorated fizzing bubbles as he quietly said, “I’d like to meet her someday. Wendy, I mean— you talk about her so fondly, she seems like a great person. Like she’s good for you in your life.”

Why did you feel a little uneasy at the way he spoke about Wendy? He had no idea what she looked like, it was only from the stories you’d been telling that he knew anything about her. And it wasn’t even the real her, it was just her as she existed to you, so what was there to be uneasy about? You were overthinking again, so you had to come up with an answer to fill the silence you’d created— “Yeah well, Wendy’s sick of dick, she’s very bisexual and I’m pretty sure she’s head over heels in love with this Joohyun she started seeing recently, she’s just too much of a chicken shit to tell her how she feels,” you hid behind you glass and drank deeply, not minding as the floating slice of alcohol soaked lemon rested against your nose.

“Sounds familiar,” Johnny said quietly. “I… can relate, I think,” he mumbled out, and you glanced over in time to see him place his now-empty cup on the wood beside him. “Sometimes you just feel the way you do and you don’t really have a reason for why, but you can’t even put it to words to the person it matters to.”

This time when your breath caught in your throat, it wasn’t because of a mounting attack, but in anticipation of what Johnny would do next. The space between you had slowly waned as you’d been drinking, your bodies inching closer to each other without you even realizing it, almost like the way the moon pulled the tide to the shore over and over again. When your eyes traveled from where his hand was pressed into the deck flooring up to meet his hooded gaze, you don’t really know what you were expecting, but Johnny’s parted lips shining slightly (probably from that last drink of wine) was not it.

You knew this feeling. This was when you were supposed to lean in, right? That’s how this usually went. Your hand shifted closer towards his for a moment and then pulled back, and the end joint of Johnny’s fingers flexed as he pressed his fingertips into the deck.

You didn’t lean in. Your heart was hammering in your chest far too loud for you to be able to do so; instead, you look away, his eye and his lips and his face and his everything suddenly too much, and your turned your cheek to him instead.

Instead, he leaned in, and for just a brief moment the crickets stopped chirping, the distant ocean stopped moving, the music stopped playing, and your heart stopped beating as Johnny’s perfectly pouty lips pressed against your cheek, and then your temple, and then your throat. And then his head tilted down and his nose brushed against your skin delicately, leaving a trial of burning in its wake, and time didn’t start turning again until the snort of his laughter broke the silence and he fell into your shoulder in a giggle fit.

It took all of your patience and self control to make your lungs continue to function as you listened to Johnny giggle so much he stopped making sounds until he was spewing out between fits of laughter ‘The bubbles make everything funny, why is everything funny with bubbles?’

‘Why indeed’, you wondered silently, letting the clearly tipsy Johnny rest his head on your shoulder as he continued his giggle fits, stroking the palm of your hand against his back as he’d first done for you under far different circumstances, trying to not think about how much faster your heart was beating while doing so, and how if your accelerated heart rate was from his proximity to you, you didn’t mind.

How long did you stay like that, in such a familiar embrace with Johnny? Long enough, it seemed, for the playlist on his phone to come to an end and for him to start dozing off while resting against you, his light snores the thing that finally made you disturb him so you could go back inside. It was late anyways, nearing midnight you said softly and you tried to wake him gently—

A surprisingly loud boom shook the sky followed by a burst of light and color. Immediately the dog inside woke up and started barking, and Johnny bolted upright, eyes darting around in search of the source of the noise that had disturbed his snoozing.

“Fireworks,” you breathed out, more to yourself than to him. “Guess it’s midnight already.” Johnny didn’t say much, but his eyes twinkled as he watched in earnest as a few more went off before you tugged on his sleeve and insisted that he needed to make his way to bed and sleep. There were sure to be more tomorrow, and he could watch them then.

You didn’t sleep for hours that night. After helping the mildly intoxicated Johnny to his bed, you sat on the floor of your room, knees pulled into your chest and a hand laying flat against your cheek where he’d planted his trail of kisses. “He was just drunk, he’s just a flirty drunk, that didn’t mean anything,” you repeated to yourself over and over again.

But something about the way Johnny’s lips felt against the apples of your cheek and the hollow of your throat when he’d been nuzzling against you stayed with you all night long, sending a shiver down your spine and igniting a flame where your heart lived. You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes and inhaled deeply, breath shuddering on the exhale.

Against all your hopes and intensions, Johnny Seo had slowly chipped his way through your armor and into your heart.

You had to get him out. Fast.

tbc.

—

author’s note | Me: this first part is gonna be like, I dunno, 5k? 6k? Also me: writes 19,000 words. We call this ✨processing your own trauma through writing as an outlet✨ Originally this was going to be one really long one shot and then I decided to split it up for ratings purposes because I am a thirsty whore for Youngho. The ending is rushed but honestly I was so sick of editing and overthinking this lmaooo. No I have not spent a summer living in Kona working on a coffee farm. Most of my coffee knowledge is second hand from the time my brother in law bought a coffee farm and started a roasting business because my sister dared him to by saying “do it you won’t” (an exact quote I shit you not). There’s more to this story and uh I dunno I’ll maybe post it eventually if people don’t hate this one *shrugs*

[a3hastakenovermylife]

Ok, I really, really want some quality interaction between Kazunari and Taichi.

Like I know that we all joke about them because they’re our energetic, adorable, puppy pair, and yes, that is who they are on the surface. But, when you simplify their whole character arcs down to just that, you’re flattening their characters and you lose the depth that the game hints at for the both of them.

The game did a really great job at letting Taichi flush out a decent sized character arc, and concluded that story in a satisfying way during the Autumn Troupe arc. We see our sunshine boy upset, withdrawn, and separating himself from the others out of guilt. Then we see him distraught over the things he’s done and being comforted by Omi (honestly my favorite interaction in the whole series, second only to Juza and Banri high-fiving). Then we see him confessing to the others, and they all retell their portraits to one another, and Taichi finally gets to accept that he’s been forgiven, and more than that, that he’s been truly accepted into the troupe. For the first time, he gets to understand that he will get to act, he’s going to have the opportunity to do what he loves and he’s going to be able to do it with people he’s come to care so much about.

Taichi is in a much better place at the end of the Autumn Troupe arc, and we can see the potential for that to grow in the future.  However, I do not feel like we get to nearly the same place with Kazunari.

With Kazunari, we begin to understand that he puts on a front with other people, that he acts all happy and tends to agree with everyone as to not ruffle any feathers.  He’s never had a group of real friends before the Summer Troupe, and when confronted with the fact that he not only doesn’t have to pretend to be neutral, that his friends don't want him to be.  Kazunari made some real progress here, he did stand tall and give his opinion, but he isn’t shown to make any other significant changes.  Nor, can we tell whether this was a permanent change.  

He’s still the same energetic Kazunari, friendly and fun-loving as always.  I can’t help but feel like his character arc was left mostly incomplete, we know there's a problem, but we haven't taken many steps to fix it, nor does it seem like Kazu has had any change in attitude.  He’s still bottling most of his emotions up, refusing to show anything other than his cheery smile.  

Here’s where we get into some of my own characterization here, because as a freshmen art major myself, I know, I know, that college isn't easy.  On top of all of that, trying to pretend that everything is fine, is like putting a band-aid on a stab wound.  The longer you hold everything in, the more mentally isolated you make yourself.  Even surrounded by kind, loving, caring people, you can feel totally alone.  On top of that, place his pre-existing tendency to hide any and all of his real opinions and feelings, which isn't the kind of mental behavior you can fix overnight.  

What you’re left with is a ticking time bomb.

No human being can be happy all the time.  It's just not possible.  

When a human being is upset, they will need help eventually.  Especially, a college student, stepping out into the world for the first time on their own, a pseudo-adult who likes to pretend they've grown up already.  

Kazunari needs that character arc of his to be finished, because right now, he's sitting in a limbo within which he can never truly be happy, or relaxed.  Simply because he hasn’t taken the time to learn how to open up to his friends. 

Now, here's where my Taichi and Kazu interaction comes in.  

(Ok, I started this just as an idea post and lo and behold it became almost as long as a fic. This is literally just my word vomit, so I apologize in advance for any poor grammar, spelling mistakes, and unclear transitions that occur, but please enjoy and tell me if you want me to make this a proper fic)

Taichi has for the most part evolved through his character arc, he's in a good place now and is growing closer to everyone in the company.  Meanwhile, Kazu seems to be falling out of sync with everyone, he’s way less chatty, he spends most of his time by himself, and while when he's actually in the room with them he is acting relatively normal.  Every single time anybody asks him if something is bothering him, he laughs and brushes the concern off easily.  However, his troupe mates can hear how forced the laugh sounds.

It’s something that happens over a few months, but Summer Troupe is very worried.  They’ve taken to having weekly meetings in the common area while Kazu is doing his homework to try and puzzle out what’s been going on with him.  The others share their concern as well, the point is that now the whole company is determined to get to the bottom of whatever is up with him. 

I bet you anything that Omi notices the similarities right away.  This is way to eerily similar to the way Taichi was acting during those last few weeks before everything came to light.  He probably approaches Kazu to talk several times but is shut down at every turn by a forced laugh, or an easy excuse like ‘I’m just a bit tired.’ or ‘Just been super busy lately, that's all.’.

Taichi, himself, probably notices too, but he really doesn't want to stick his nose into something that felt so incredibly personal.  He lets it go because he knows how helpful it was when his troupe mates let him talk out his troubles, and listened, and accepted him for all his faults.  He feels if he buts in now, he’ll just take that opportunity from Kazu, and he’d never do something that.

The Summer Troupe keeps trying, and one night they all approach him at once, determined not to let this go until he fesses up.  They all corner him in his room and start to ask questions, and Tenma and Yuki are almost certainly going to be coming off as being a bit harsh, but who can blame them Kazu has been worrying the both of them senseless for months, and neither of them are the type to mince their words.  

Muku is especially emotional throughout the whole thing, he’s had a front row seat to this slow motion train-wreck this whole time, living in the same room as Kazu.  He sees how late he stays up, and how often he gets no sleep at all, he's the one who sees the cracks beginning to form in the persona Kazu has built up for himself.  He even mentions one particularly horrible night when Kazu was crying in his sleep.  By that point though, Muku is relatively incomprehensible through his own crying.  

Misumi is mostly watching, agreeing with the others, saying supportive words, but mostly standing aside, looking and feeling a little helpless.  

This is Kazu’s breaking point.  Kazu has been spiraling for months.  It started with feeling horrible and stressed about his classes, then evolved to worrying about how he always hid that fact from the others, then to feeling guilty about being so dishonest about his feelings, then to feeling even more guilty about pushing them away when they were clearly worried and not being able to reciprocate their kindness with even the most basic courtesy of honesty.

Seeing all of them like this, pouring their hearts out to reach him, it just made him feel worse.  He wanted them to understand, but some part of him was certain that they never could.  That even if he could speak right then, that none of it could make them understand.  There was also a traitorous part of his mind that heard Tenma’s frustrated shout and Yuki’s sarcastic drawl, and only hear accusation and condemnation.

He knew it was stupid, that his friends would never actually feel that way about him.  He knew that.

That didn’t stop that little traitorous voice in his head from taking the steering wheel though, it didn’t stop it from completely taking over.  He was on his feet and pushing past them out of the room before he even knew what he was doing.  He vaguely recognized the feeling of someone grabbing a hold of his shoulder and he forcefully pulls away, running faster than he even knew he was capable of out of the dorm.

The voices calling for him to come back, concerned, worried, crying.  Concern for him, and he can't even turn around to look at them, he can barely even hear them.  He keeps running, longer than his body should have been able to run, faster than he ever thought possible.  He tripped more than once and was left with scrapes from each time.  The others tried to follow him, but in the darkness, it seems that none of them had succeeded.  

Or maybe, the same voice whispered. They’ve just decided to give up on you.

Meanwhile, the Summer troupe meets back at the dorm, and they get the others to come help them look for Kazunari.  To say the least, Summer Troupe is pretty distraught, all things considered.  Muku is an even worse than he’d been earlier, having given up entirely on trying to talk, Yuki has made it his responsibility to keep Muku from falling over, having to prop him up through most of their search, and he’s become oddly quiet as he does so.  

Misumi actually does cry for a few minuites for Kazu, he's so incredibly sad that he can’t seem to do anything to help.  However, he doesn't let it keep him down.  It's no more than five minutes before he stands up with a half-smile to help search for him again. 

Tenma, is just oddly quiet, like way too quiet, more quiet than even Yuki.  Only speaking in clipped one-word sentences, and mostly even then, only answering questions addressed to him.  He's clearly frustrated, but more than that, he almost seems remorseful.  By this point, he’s feeling pretty guilty and useless himself.  He is the leader of this troupe after all, and it is his responsibility to take care of stuff like this isn’t it?  

It’s early in the morning, and the whole company has been searching for hours when it starts to rain.  It's at this point that the director just says that they should head back and get some sleep.  Tenma does not take that order well. After a very loud and long argument with Tenma, the most that he’s spoken all night, he finally gives in when he sees the state the rest of his troupe is in,  Muku has practically fainted already, Yuki was on the verge of tears himself and Misumi was just staring blankly into space dejectedly.  

So, with that everyone heads back to the dorm to go to sleep.

------------

It’s only after they're back inside, dried off, and the lights are off that Taichi realizes that he can’t sleep.  He was close with Kazu, they’d always meshed really well together and got along really well.  When he’d seen a reflection of himself in Kazu, he'd let it go, and now he was really starting to regret it.  He should have realized, that just because Taichi had had Omi to help him work up the courage to confess what he’d done to the rest of the troupe, and to help him sort out his feelings.  Omi was practically an adult, he was so mature and always seemed to know what to do.  

Summer Troupe didn't really have an Omi.  Kazu was actually the oldest of the bunch of them.  He should have spoken up sooner, tried to help Kazu through it, if he’d just said something earlier, the situation might not have gotten this far out of control.  Taichi had desperately needed someone to give him the courage to speak up when he’d been in such a dark place and, something told him that Kazu needed the same thing, and that nothing would change at all until he got that much.

He might have school in a few hours, and it might still be raining, but Taichi honestly didn't care.  He couldn't sit still any longer.  He got up from the covers, and grabbed his jacket and was about to open the door to their room when he heard Omi sit up.

“You’re going to go look for Kazunari aren’t you?” He asked.

Taichi blinked and stammered, trying to come up with some other excuse, and epically failing.  It was too hard to lie to Omi though, especially after everything that had happened between them.  Omi just chuckled, and told him not to worry so much.  Omi stood and opened his own closet, pulling out a spare backpack, and placing a large towel, an oversized poncho, and an umbrella in the bag, then handed it to Taichi.  Then silently lead Taichi along to the kitchen, where he pulled out a large thurmace and heated up some hot cocoa to put inside, then handed that to Taichi as well.  

“I think that you might be one of the only people who can get through to Kazunari, you realize that too don’t you?”  Omi said softly, as to not wake the others.  Taichi nodded emphatically, a little stunned that Omi was just letting him go no matter how irresponsible of an idea it was. “Alright, then.  Good luck, and bring him home.”

Taichi nodded and just as soon as he had gotten outside he started running.  It was still dark and rainy, but at least there were plenty of streetlights.  He called out to Kazunari and he called and called.  Mostly though, Taichi was looking, looking for any sign of a person, anywhere.  By now, he was pretty sure that Kazu wasn’t going to reply to the call, but he did it anyway, just in case.

Eventually, about an hour in, his voice got raw and he needed to take a break.  He stopped talking, and sat down on just some random street corner, not caring one bit that his pants were now wet.

It wasn't any good, he wasn't going to find him was he?

He sat dejectedly on the concrete, just listening to the rain and feeling his pants begin to get soggy.  He didn't know how long he sat there before he heard it.

It was faint, so incredibly quiet, that even the light sound of raindrops nearly drowned it out entirely.

Yet, if he listened hard enough he heard crying.  He hoped he wasn't just his desperation getting to him, making him hear things.  He stood up eagerly anyway, staying silent and trying to follow the sound before it stopped.  It was hard, really hard, and the sky was starting to lighten just a minuscule shade when he finally made it to the mouth of the alley.

There Kazu was, Taichi could just barely make out the top of his head poking out from behind a stack of abandoned boxes.  He was absolutely drenched to the bone, there was no way he wasn't going to get sick after this.  He was crying softly, his head ducked and his arms hugging himself.

Taichi carefully approached Kazu and found himself at a loss for a moment.  The very last thing he wanted was for him to run off again, and he really didn't want to startle him either.  What he settled on was taking the umbrella and the towel out, and holding the umbrella with one arm, while he dried Kazu’s head off to the best of his ability with only one arm to work with.  Kazu stiffened but didn't move, his crying coming to an abrupt halt as he held his breath. 

“Hey, Kazu.  It’s just me, Taichi.”

Kazunari gave a shaky sigh of relief at his voice. “Damn, Tai-chan don’t scare me like that ok?  Thought you were gonna mug me or something...”  It was clear that Kazu was trying to put up his barriers again, and not quite managing it.  

“Sorry, about that.”  Taichi apologized, more than a little relieved that Kazunari had actually spoken to him right off the bat.  That was farther than the rest of Summer Troupe had gotten.  Taichi fumbled a bit before he decided to sit next to Kazu, after it seemed clear that he wasn’t too keen on moving.

Silence settled between the two of them, Kazu seemed to be trying desperately to reign his emotions back under control.  Taichi was just trying to think of how to start this, what to say.  He thought about how Omi had approached him, but something told Taichi that Kazu wouldn't connect well with that.  

It didn't help that he had no idea why Kazu was so upset, or what had caused this, or if anything really had caused it.  There might not be one cause.  It was more than a little overwhelming, Taichi really really really didn't want to mess this up.

He couldn’t do nothing again though, that wasn't an option, he had to say something, anything.

He decided, to just say whatever came to mind.  To say how he felt, and hope to every god out there that it reached him.

“You know, it’s impossible for a person to be happy all the time, don't you?”  Taichi asked.  Kazunari didn't respond, and Taichi decided that was ok.  He’d just keep talking for now.  “I won’t pretend that I know why you’re so upset, because I don’t.  It’s ok if you don't really want to talk about it right now, I get it.  Though, if you’re up to it, I would really appreciate it if you listened to my story.”

Taichi waited until he saw Kazunari nod, the other teen seemingly relaxing a bit beside him.   Taichi smiled at the sight, and began to speak.

(Authors note: in this story only Autumn troupe and Yuki (+ the director)  know about the fact that Taichi was a mole.  Not because they're keeping secrets, just because the others never asked and nobody thought to tell them.  Mostly, I don't know for sure if any of the others know, and I like to imagine that they don't know, or at least not the full story.)

Taichi essentially performed his portrait for Kazunari, by the end the other teen was actually looking up at him.  Taichi continued though, even after his story normally ended.  

“You see, whatever you feel so upset about, guilty about even, I doubt it'll be worse than the things I've done.  Even if it is, I know that your troupe mates would listen and try their best to understand why.  No matter what it is, no matter what might have happened.  They care a lot about you, and the only reason they got so frustrated is because they hate seeing you hurting like this, they were only trying to help, you know...”

“Yeah, I know that...”  Kazu looked away again.  Though, this time he didn't curl in on himself like before, he leaned back and looked to the sky, which was already beginning to lighten in color. “How did you know I was feeling guilty?”

“I guess, I can just tell?  I don't know, it's a bit freaky actually.” Taichi gave a nervous chuckle, then his expression softened a bit to match the sincerity in hie voice.   “I saw your expression, and it was almost like I was looking in the mirror, I got this weird sense of de ja vu, and I could just tell.   That probably doesn’t make any sense does it...”

“Never experienced it myself, but I get what you're talking about.”  Kazu replied with a sigh, closing his eyes.  The two of them stay quiet for a minute, Taichi got the feeling that Kazunari was just on the verge of telling him something, so he was patient, giving the other teen the chance to gather his thoughts. 

“You know, hearing all that you just said, it almost makes me feel a bit silly.  This is such a stupid thing to get so worked up over, ‘ya know.”  Kazu shook his head at himself. “It’s always been stupid, and I’ve always known that but I can't help it.  I’m always terrified of what others will think, if I don't keep a smile on my face.  More than that, I’m so used to pushing all of my worries aside that I don’t even know how to face them anymore.  I just ignore them, until I can’t anymore.”  Kazu swallowed thickly, leaning forward again and running a hand through his still, thoroughly damp hair.  “I don’t want to keep hiding my real feelings, it's just that each time I get even slightly uncomfortable, it's easier to just put the mask back on.  I can’t help it, and that’s terrifying, ya know.  I want the others to know when I’m stressed or upset, its not like I want to keep hiding it from them, but it never seems like the right time to let the facade fall.  They're so used to me being happy, that I don't think they understand how much of it is fake.  What happens when I let everything out, and they realize that I've been lying to them?  Will they even be able to stand me, as I am now?  They’re friends with the energetic, fun-loving Kazunari Miyoshi, not me.  I don’t know if any of them have ever even met this side of me, I'm hardly even the same person.  I really don’t want to ruin this place, I really really love it here.  I’m happier living here than I've ever been in my life, I don’t know what I'd do if everything fell apart...”  Kazu trailed off.

“I don’t think anything is going to fall apart, Kazu. Things’ll change a bunch, but nothing will be ruined. You don’t even need to do anything more than just explain this to your troupe.  Even if they don’t get it at first, they’ll do everything they’re capable of to help you, I just know it. Also, I think that you’re more likely to push them away continuing on as you are, than you are if you just tried to explain.” “You don’t have to try and handle this all by yourself. Please, try and explain this to them. Trust me when I say that you’ll feel better afterwards.”

“You really think it’ll turn out alright?”

“I know it will.”

Kazunari gave a breathy chuckle. “How can you be so sure?”

Taichi smiled wanly and thought about earlier that evening...

“’The hell?  How can you even say that?!  You really expect me to just go back to the dorm when Kazunari is out here somewhere, all by himself!  If we don't find him soon, who knows what’ll happen!  Who know’s what’s already happened?  He could have been mugged in an alley somewhere by now, and we’d have no idea!”

“Tenma...”

“I’m not going back.”

“Tenma, please stop and listen for a second.  Everyone is exhausted, we aren’t going to make any progress like this.  If we sleep for even an hour or two and get back to it, we’re more likely to find him, ok?”

“There’s nothing ‘ok’ about any of this!”

“Alright, maybe ‘ok’ wasn’t the right word for this situation, but Tenma...”  The director leaned in to whisper something into Tenma’s ear.  Immediately the teen star glanced over his shoulder and saw the state of his troupe mates and his stiff angered posture melted. Tenma silently nodded and sighed.

“I really fucked up this whole ‘troupe leader’ thing, didn’t I?”

“Kazu, your entire troupe is convinced that they've failed you in some way or another, especially Tenma-kun.  He was so upset earlier that he actually started yelling at the director, like a real argument and not his usual antics.  They want to help you more than anything else, and the entire company feels the same way.  This isn’t because they want they want you to go back to how you were, its because you’re in pain and they want to help you.  Whether that means that you stop putting on that mask entirely, or just start by learning not to rely on it too much, I know they'll be willing to support you no matter what you decide to do, so long as you’re beginning to get better.”  

“I’m here too, if you ever want to talk to somebody who gets it a little better.  It's hard being yourself, and it's easy to hide so you won't get hurt when someone rejects you. I get that, Kazu, and I do it too sometimes.  So, if you need to talk to someone outside of your Troupe, and maybe even get advice on how to make them understand, I’m here too.” 

“Kazu, you’ve got so many people waiting for you at home who want to help you, all you have to do is open up and let them.  Try and help them understand, and let them do the rest.  That’s all you can do, and I guarantee you, that nobody will be upset if you admit that you’re only human, that you can't be happy all the time.  Nobody in the troupe has ever expected that of you, even if they’ve gotten used to your antics, they won't judge you for the fact that you can’t keep them up.  The only thing, that you have to decide to do for them to accept you as you are, is to explain this to them.  That’s all, and nobody can take that first step other than you.”  Taichi said seriously.  

“I also happen to know how hard it is to take that first step, by yourself.  I had Omi to help me along, he pushed me to tell the others what I’d done, even when I was convinced they could never forgive me, and even that I didn't deserve to be forgiven.  He’s the one that helped me take that first step, and I’d like to do that too, for you.”  Taichi looked up at the sky which was rapidly changing to a much brighter shade of blue.  

“The others will probably wake up again soon, if we head back now, we might catch them before they leave the dorm again.  Please, let me take you home, so we can talk to your troupe mates and sort this all out.  I know that probably sounds impossible right now, but I know you can do it, and I’ll be right by your side while you do it.  So, what do you say?”

Kazunari sighed shakily and nodded, looking absolutely exhausted. “I think I can do it, if it's just my troupe and you I think I can try and explain all of this.  I just hope they understand.”  

Taichi grinned brightly, feeling a wash of relief rush over him.  “Really?!  Wow, thank you for trusting me Kazu!”  He let out a short bark of laughter.  “I’ll be honest, was really floundering there for a while.  I didn't know what so say at all, I’m so glad I didn’t make things even worse...”  Taichi let out a sigh of relief. “Sorry about that, I ended up just spewing my feelings all over you there....”

“You said all the right things Tai-chan, at least I think so.  I feel a lot better, if you'll really be with me I think I can manage this.  Even if I still don't know if this’ll turn out alright, I'm going to trust your judgement over mine on this one, because clearly my judgement is all out of wack, today...”. Kazunari paused and shook his head to himself. “Actually my judgment has been out of commission for a while now, I think. The point is, I cant really trust myself right now, so I'm going to trust you, ok?” Kazunari’s voice was a bit shaky, but he put some effort into sounding reassuring for Taichi’s sake.

———————— ok POV switch heh

Taichi blinked and stared blankly at Kazunari for a solid minute before he seemed to gather himself, the words finally having settled in. With a mighty sniff Taichi wiped his eyes and dashed away the tears that hadn’t even had the chance to fall. “Thanks Kazunari, that means a lot. I won’t let you down, I promise.” Taichi grinned brightly, his voice gaining a steelly determination behind it. Taichi then, handed Kazunari the umbrella to hold and turned to pull something from the backpack he’d been carrying. Kazunari stared as Taichi placed a thick plastic poncho on his lap and a large thurmace in his other hand and took the umbrella from Kazunari once again.

“You actually managed to run pretty far away from the dorm, so you should put that poncho on, and there’s hot cocoa that Omi made in there. Even if you don’t want to drink it, just open it and hold it. At least the heat will warm you up a bit.” Taichi said, and he almost sounded like director, the way he was fussing over him.

Kazunari was certain that his cheeks were flushed red, but he was equally sure that was only because he was freezing. It definitely wasn’t because he was embarrassed or anything.

“Hey do you want me to call us a ride? I think that might be better than walking all the way back. Plus, it’ll give them a heads up so nobody leaves to look for us.” Taichi asked, and Kazunari almost immediately shook his head.

“I’m soaked to the bone and I seriously don’t need a lecture from Sakyo for ruining the apoulstry of his car, right now.” Kazunari laughed at his own joke, too bad the joke was too close to the truth. He really didn’t want to soak up and ruin anyone’s car by getting inside it the way he was.

Taichi’s smile wavered, he didn’t laugh. Then he took out his phone and was engrossed in typing for a minute, before Kazu realized what he was doing. He propped himself up against the wall and stood, and was shocked to see how hard it was to do so. His vision almost immediately started blurring and darkening as Kazunari leaned against the wall for support.

“Hey, wait! I can walk I swear, don’t call anybody here, I’m fine!” Kazunari blurted just as he heard the message send.

“Sakyo isn’t the only adult in our troupe with a car, you know.” Taichi replied, a little softly. Then, he nervously tapped his foot for a moment before he made eye contact with Kazu again, and spoke. “You said that you were going to trust me earlier, didn’t you? You can’t get all the way home like you are now, and unfortunately, I’m not strong enough to carry you all the way back.”

Kazunari blinked, and sighed.

He did ask for this after all.

He however, refused to sit down. He was gonna lean right against that wall until the ride came, whoever they were. That thought didn’t last more than five minutes though. Kazunari blinked furiously to clear the spots from his vision to no avail. Then, sighed in defeat and leaned against the wall to slide back down to the asphalt.

Taichi gave him a concerned look and Kazunari tried to ignore it, it was just then he was saved by the appearance of a vehicle, and almost immediately Kazu recognized it as Itaru’s. The car parked and Itaru opened got out of the car to join them.

Kazunari had to look away, because a part of him still couldn’t stand the wave of guilt when he saw the worry in his gaze. So, he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Thanks, Itaru, for coming to pick us up.” Taichi said extra cheerily, though there was a dash of genuine grstitude hidden in there.

“It’s no problem. I’m glad you asked me, the others were already waking up and getting restless. They were almost about to start searching for you again when you texted me.” Itaru said with a wan smile of his own. “So, let’s get you two back to the dorm. Do you need a hand there Kazunari?”

“Nah’ I’m fi-“. Kazunari was about to say when Taichi pulled him up and propped him up.

“Yeah, Kazu, my buddy, nobody is gonna fall for that.”

“Alright, ok!” Kazunari sighed, and said “I’m super woozy and can barely stand up, yes I’d love some help.” He was too tired to keep up with this. Let the others do what they want, he’s taking a nap when he gets in that car.

Kazunari could hear Itaru let out a relieved chuckle, Taichi did the same not long afterward. When did he close his eyes?

“Happy to help, then.” Itaru idly commented as Kazu heard a car door open, he was gently shuffled into what he assumed was the back seat and his head was definitely resting on Taichi’s shoulder.

Someone strapped his seatbelt on, he assumed it was Taichi, and he heard the drivers door open and admit someone as well, probably Itaru getting in.

Kazunari was definitely getting sleepy and the last thing he remembered hearing, he wasn’t even sure he was dreaming yet or not. But the last thing be remembered hearing, was Taichi whisper.

“Sleep well, everything will turn out ok, I promise it will.”

[bigmeatymudcrabchitins]

A not-so-brief overview of my Skyrim Dova OCs bc i need to scream to the digital void about my ideas

Freyora Lind, more commonly known by her strange alias “Bjorne Icepick”

A Nord-eventually-turned-werewolf who orphaned during the Great War and taken in by a Dunmeri mercenary whose residence was in Windhelm’s Gray Quarter. Grew up in a cramped boarding house setting among desperate mercenaries of varying backgrounds. Many of them would all come and go, but there was always some sort of a familial bond between them all.

From a young age she got in a lot of fights against people who insulted her for living in the Gray Quarter among the dark elves. Eventually she took a fight too far and was jailed for murder around 14, but was broken out shortly after by a band of masked vampires. Turns out some of her mercenary comrades unwittingly caught vampirism during a contract to clear out a vampire den and had to skip town, but not before ensuring one of their own wasn’t left to rot.

Lived in Cyrodil for about 15 years, but returned to Skyrim pursuing rumors surrounding a cure to vampirism, as her adoptive father would be nearing the end of his elven lifespan and had wished to die a normal death.

Seeing as she was literally a fugitive, and her long-belated parents were somewhat renowned for their battlefield prowess, she took on a false identity. AND an act to match it.

She’ll eat raw meat, chase prey with swords instead of using a bow like a normal person, harp about irrational conspiracy theories, and more. Everyone’s foul reactions to her outlandish act are plainly hilarious to her and only encourage her to act even stranger.

The alias “Bjorne Icepick” was simply the most ridiculous name she could think of.

Not the most morally outstanding. Besides drunken brawling, she’ll steal from anyone who angers her, even if it’s things she literally won’t ever need such as all the goblets in a household. It’s the pettiness that counts. “Try drinking your damn high-end wine now, jackass.”

Calls Dwarven Automatons “Gundams.” Including she herself, no one knows what that means.

Joins the Companions out of homesickness and a desire to fill in a gap that leaving home left.

Hasn’t bothered curing herself of lycanthropy because her whole schtick is being incredibly resourceful, and that includes using any means of power necessary. Still doesn’t fancy Hircine’s Hunting Grounds as her desired afterlife, though.

As her journey goes on, however, her lightheartedly eccentric face starts to fall off as a number of events push her to begin to question the legitimacy of her actions up until that point.

Some of which include the eventual death of her adoptive father (and how she was indirectly responsible for it even if it was what he wanted), Delphine’s ultimatum, the civil war as a collective, learning the tragic history behind the Falmer and the original Companions’ role in it, and killing of Vyrthur (no matter how much he genuinely deserved it).

She grows disgusted by herself down to the core. She takes to skooma to cope, and starts to be plagued by serious skooma-induced side effects. She ends up shutting herself away from all her responsibilities and distancing herself from her friends.

Does she get better? Maybe. I haven’t thought up anything past this point lol

Moureneris Alta

A very, VERY ancient vampiric snow elf, (though it’s notable she was born a considerable amount of time after the razing of Sarthaal)

Survived many atrocities. Stayed in isolation with a band of vampires for countless years out of sheer disgust for the nature of the sapient races. (I’ll explain her full story some other time. It’s pretty complicated)

She was abducted from her isolated lifestyle by a certain person i’ll talk about later. She managed to free herself south of Skyrim, and uh, walks right into that Imperial ambush. The rest is history.

Super ignorant to modern society as a result of centuries of isolation. Exploited for comedic relief. (“What in the name of Oblivion is a Cyrodilic Empire? Are you messing with me? And please, how does levitation magic simply get outlawed by this hypothetical Empire? What are you to do when you fall down a crevice? Just... let yourself perish? How degrading.)

She reintegrated herself into society with vengeance in mind under the belief that all humans are savage bloodlusting murderers who had to answer for their treachery. (And she was royally angry there was no Dwemer left to spite, but partially satisfied at the same time). But she grows conflicted after being shown genuine kindness, even as early as being freed from her binds in Helgen.

Subsequently has a very muddled redemption arc. Queue Dragonborn hero stuff

She has impaired vision, but she cultivated detect life magic to aid her in daily life and combat (think Hyakkimaru from Dororo ‘19 and his soul detection or Toph Beifong from ATLA and her seismic sense). At her peak, she can detect life from about a kilometer away.

She can just barely read, but only if she holds the text incredibly close to her face, not to mention her Cyrodilic lessons were left unfinished after her abduction, making reading a very taxing process. Weary travelers are often spooked at the sight of a floating, ghastly looking elven woman with her nose pressed up against crossroad signs, and it has become somewhat of an urban legend.

Isn’t as nearly as skilled with detecting the dead and tenses up in burial crypts or around other vampires for that reason. Unfortunately, being the Dragonborn and all, she finds herself in a lot of crypts...

When questioned about her background due to her unique appearance: “Oh, yeah. My mother was one of those mer from the east. You know the ones. Dark elves, I think? And my father was one of those er, tall elv- no, sorry, HIGH elves. Yeah. They both died in a big fire or something though. It was horrible. I can’t get the noxious smell or the deafening screams out of my head. Good talk, but never ask me about that again.”

Queue sheltered old immortal antics: “Wow, you’re THAT old? Enlighten me on how it felt witnessing the fall of the Dwemer. Or perhaps the rise of Tiber Septim’s Empire. The Gates of Ob-“ “Oblivion if I know. I lived in someone’s basement for thousands of years. And I still don’t know what everyone means by Empire. You all are messing with me, aren’t you? That really annoys me.”

She ultimately returns to faith in Auri-El and makes it her life’s purpose to help the Betrayed find peace, as well as to seek out any remaining snow elf groups. Probably good friends with Gelebor or something.

Had a crush on Serana. We all know how THAT went. Damned temples.

Was originally gonna spiral into a much darker corruption arc (another ATLA comparison being Jet or Hama) but I just felt bad for her. Moureneris can have a little found peace. As a treat.

That’s her preliminary design made. I’ll need a mod to properly play her, because that right there was made by choosing Dunmer as her race. But I can’t do that. I’m on console, and while I got the Steam port a month ago, my PC’s stone age specs can’t handle Skyrim yet and I’ll need to wait until I can afford a better graphics card (thanks economic inflation)

Alexandre Armasi, jokingly nicknamed Alexandre the Curious

A complete and unapologetic export of my character from a dead and unfinished DND campaign. Except there are no Aasimar in Skyrim, so he’s half Altmer half Bosmer. And his initial last name was Armas but I thought Armasi suited his Skyrim counterpart more, as subtle a change it is.

He’s mainly Bosmer in appearance and constitution, save for his hair and eyes, which are more similar to that of his Altmeri father’s.

I can’t really export his original backstory though because the campaign wouldn’t translate well into TES lore at all.

He’s a writer who came wandering into Skyrim in search of inspiration. While he mainly writes dramatic fables, he wanted to divert his focus to crafting his own bestiary and herbal compendium surrounding Skyrim’s fauna and flora. The ones at home are simply too vague to him!

He’s very altruistic, wishing to spread cheer wherever he goes, through the art of song (even though he was a cleric in DND and not a bard. My bad.) However, many of his verses are just blatant self promotions of his published fables.

But he’s too naive for his own good. Dangerously so. In fact, he says what’s on his mind with little forethought, with little grasp on the consequences of his actions, which lands him in lots of trouble. “I don’t favor him myself, but you guys kill people over Talos worship? That’s not very cool. A bit scary, if you ask me.” or “A Stormcloak rebel? Didn’t your leader kill a bunch of Reachmen rebels years back, or so I’ve heard. By the divines that’s not a man I’d make a symbol of nonconformity.”

He’s also insatiably curious. The type to ACTUALLY shove alchemic ingredients in his mouth with no knowledge of their properties, experiment with dangerous rune spells, throw rocks at pressure plates, and more. Needless to say he’s very accident prone.

Doesn’t know common curse words. People exploit this for laughs. Think that episode of Spongebob.

Everyone is a little baffled that HE of all people is the prophesied Dragonborn of legend. This agonizingly imbecilic writer who has absentmindedly wandered into burial crypts, troll dens, bandit forts, and more, too busy juggling his manuscripts to pay attention to his surroundings.

His past doesn’t exactly reflect his outlook on life. His mother and father fought in the Great War aligned with the Imperials despite their elven background. Both managed to live to see the war’s conclusion, but his father vanished without a trace shortly after, and it seems his mother knows something she won’t tell him.

With plenty of exposure to bad influences, his innocence is slowly lost throughout the course of his journey, and his altruism begins to grow twisted. But nevertheless, he maintains his jovial, social persona, except this time with much darker undertones. Kinda like a creepy dentist or something.

Whoops. He winds up becoming a feared Dark Brotherhood assassin. (Haha get it “Innocence Lost”???) He somehow deluded himself into thinking that the life of an assassin was the right thing to do. But he’s a funky little guy so he gets a pass for his heinous crimes against society

[salemorbit]

Could I get a BOTW and/or marvel ship? I'm a 5'0 straight female with freckles (like a lot) (I'm pale as heck and I don't tan I just burn and then get freckles) , green eyes, and brown hair (I used to have a Mohawk that I dyed different colors and its still in that awkward growing out phase).

I am a Sagittarius (tho I don't really belive in that sort of stuff) and have a mediator personality on the Briggs scale.

I love to bake, sew, crochet, draw, etc... Basically anything where I get to create something. I love seeing an idea come to life. I'm constantly making things and I like to fidget with anything I get muy hands on (meaning I have a habit of breaking stuff) (oops).

I also keep freshwater aquariums and love the process of building tanks and decorating them. I especially love shrimp because they are adorable. (And kulhi loaches) (and plecos) (and mystery snails) (and everything else I own). I love my fish....

I constantly crave affection (but will never admit to that) I really love cuddling, and am definitely touch starved but anyone who knows that has figured it out themselves. Because for some reason my brain thinks I don't deserve any of it.

I am way too nice to everyone, even at my own expense and tend to Bury my emotions when I am in pain. I have Depression and some anxiety and tend to worry about if anyone I know actually likes me while simultaneously thinking that I don't deserve anyone to love me.

I also tend to go into self hatred spirals that make me try to isolate myself (and do some other stuff that's not so good for me).

I am shy and awkward as heck. But I will talk your ear off if you get to know me.

I like being nature, alone and far from others. I like hearing the birds calls and the other noises. (Plus if there is a lake I will stare at fish) (yes I have problems).

Anyway thanks in advance if you do answer this :)

omg are we literally the same person bc you might've described yourself but also me at the same time ajdldjshahs

i also just got some black skirt tetras!!! they're my literal children im in love with them so i know what you mean

but thank you! sorry this took so long!!! i hope you're doing well <3

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Marvel Matchup!

Based on your characteristics, I think you'd do best with....

Bruce!

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very similar to each other lemme tell u

bein the little nerd he is, bruce will 10000% appreciate your fish as much as you appreciate your fish

you definitely will know a lot more about their maintenance and such because he hasn't always been a fish person, and he doesn't really want to do external research because he's infatuated with your passion on the subject

bruce also has a habit of playing with his hands and toying with things in front of him, especially while he's deep in thought

you guys definitely give each other fidget objects for when the occasion arises

bruve is also pretty empathetic, and it's taken him some trial and error to know when and where to give empathy and when he needs to take a step back

he'll definitely coach you on such things because he doesn't want you to suffer from burnout!

he's also a big grounding point for you when you expend yourself too much in the niceness category, and he'll even go out of his comfort zone to stand up for you if you have trouble doing it yourself

bruce is i n c r e d i b l y caring and will always be there for you if you're spiraling

he's been there and done that, so you can depend on him to know how to help and what to do

he loves when you go off on tangents about something you like because he's mentally taking little notes about you (and he thinks you look absolutely adorable when your face lights up)

he's big into compassion and listening, and even though he's nervous about messing something up along the way, he's also willing to work things out because you're just so worth it