sweethartlullaby

[sweethartlullaby]

through a thousand lives for you

word count: 10548 genre/theme: angst, historical warnings: death, suicide, self harm for readers that would like to skip the self-harm portion, please stop reading at the "***" and continue once it appears again as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

“You’re not going home?” You look up to see your colleague leaning on the door frame, bag strapped across his chest.

“I just have a few more things to do then I’ll be on my way.” You smile back and he nods before waving goodbye. “Just beware of hiddens, you know they love vulnerable youngsters after hours.” 

“Then close the door!” You call out and he does.

This is the best part of your day. 

Besides the minimal risk of a hidden intruding the office, the serenity is incomparable to any other pleasure in life. It has only happened once before and it was a decade ago. Plus, with new enforcement, you were certain that hiddens no longer existed. 

You slave away on the papers in front of you for a few more hours and when you realise the sun has long gone, you finally file everything away and take your bag. 

Just as you pack your final things up, the door bursts open and a man stumbles in. 

Blood streaks down the side of his forehead and his red handprint is clear against the wooden door. It seems to take everything in him to approach you, only steps away from where he came in from. 

His free hand clutches the side of his chest and the blood drips down onto the floor. You are frozen. You clutch onto your bag tightly, praying that your peaceful land will not be the reason for your death.

He only says one word.

“Please.”

Then he collapses.

Let his anger be the bars to his prison, and the light to his peace.

They say the library is a sea of information and reading is easy. But the amount of information they have on hiddens was small and useless. And it wouldn’t count at all if he wasn’t one. 

It repeated the same things, harmful stereotypes that gave no actual information, things to look for that were general to mankind. Even if you tried to apply it to this stranger, you wouldn’t find your answer.

So, was he a hidden?

Who else would be this injured?

It was too late to call for anyone. Everyone else left the building and patrol wasn’t for another hour. You had placed a cushion under his head and you had also stitched the slash across his ribs.  

It was deep and long, and with every moment you wasted, the man was one step closer to the light. That was the first thing you thought of after you moved him. 

You were no surgeon. However, you would argue that being a librarian and having the will to stop blood gushing out of this man’s body was good enough this time. So you cleaned and stitched his wound, wincing at the thought of how the alcohol from this forgotten first aid kit would sting him if he was awake.

You had never had so much blood on your hands.

You were wiping his face with your scarf and as you gently dabbed away under his eyes, you couldn’t help but notice how soft his features were. He no longer looked like the scary intruder that threatened your soul to leave your body. 

He was just a man. 

Once he was clean enough, you stood to toss your scarf away, which was when you noticed his weapon in front of the door. His sword, its handle stained with his blood, lay as still as its owner, waiting to be awoken again. He had nothing else but the small map you noticed peeking out of his pocket. 

There was no destination, no X, no mark. 

Just a trail that led exactly to where you wanted to go.

You were a light sleeper, so the rustle of him packing his things and the small groans he elicited were more than enough to have you sitting up from your desk. 

He didn’t seem to mind you at all. 

He kept packing his things while he took in deep, strained breaths. For a moment, you thought he didn’t notice you. But once he was finished packing, he clutched the side of his ribs again and lifted his eyes to yours. 

“Thank you.” He sighed and tied his sword to his waist before he began to exit. 

“Wait!” You stuttered out, circling outside of your desk and running after him. His laboured breath was enough to tell you he wasn’t fit to leave yet. More importantly…

“Let me go.” He grunted as he dragged himself towards the exit. But you push yourself to run past him. With arms wide open, you blocked his only way out. He looked tired, as if he didn’t want to waste another moment with the person who saved him.

So you said the thing you figured would make him listen.

“I have your locket.” You gasped out. 

It was probably your imagination but you might have seen his ears twitch. However, you definitely saw his eyes narrow and he stood taller. You wondered, was this what all his victims saw in their final moments?

“Give it back.” He demanded but you didn’t budge. “I said-”

“You’re going to help me first.” You said, with as much confidence as you could muster, but your head was questioning everything. 

Just give him the damn locket, idiot.

“I’m not helping anyone.” He took a step closer and you leaned away from him, back colliding against the wooden door. “Give me back my locket. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

“No.” You were trying your best to not cower. He didn’t say anything else. But he took a step towards you and in one swift movement, he spun your body and grabbed your wrists, keeping them locked in his palm. 

As he pushed you against the door, he used his other hand to search you. 

“I’m…It’s not on me.” The words you said were so different from what you were thinking. You knew this was a bad idea. The array of weapons you found on him told you that he wasn’t someone to test. But your goal was bigger, stronger, it could overpower any fear you felt at this moment. 

“Where is it?” He demanded, hands still patting you down. 

“I’ll tell you if you help me.” 

“I’m sparing you already. Isn’t that enough?” He grunted, finally stopping the swats against your body. 

“I think that’s the bare minimum after I saved you.” You breathed out. He might have chuckled when you said that. Maybe it was just your brain trying to block out the fear. 

You weren’t sure what was flowing through you at this moment. Was it excitement that he would cave in or  nerves from the possibility of dying? 

“What do you even need help with?” He didn’t spin you back around.

“To go back home.”

“Patrol helps with that.”

“No, my hometown.” You said, a little quieter. He paused.

“The docks aren’t far from here. Tickets can be bought there too.” He said bluntly.

“Do you think I haven’t tried that?” You tried to spin but he pushed you onto the door again, a little too harshly this time.

“I don’t have to help you.” 

“Then I guess you don’t need your locket.”

“I can force it out of you.”

“Isn’t it a hidden code to never hurt women and children?” You blurted out and it took him two beats of silence to answer.

“What makes you think I’m a hidden?”

“Weapons, blood…No one gets hurt this bad as a citizen.” You said. “So, help me and I’ll hide your identity and also give you your locket.”

It had fallen out of his palm when you were cleaning his wound. You cleaned it off his blood and hid it somewhere you knew would be hard to get. You found that there was no picture inside but there was a fragment of a pearl. 

“Fair?”

“If you’re smart enough to figure out I’m a hidden then you’re smart enough to know that we don’t travel in groups, especially with clueless and reckless civilians.” He finally spun your body to face him and he stared at you. 

“I’m not a burden.”

“Doesn’t count when you’re the one saying it.” You were almost there, you could tell he was close to giving up. You just had to lure him in a little more. 

“Just bring me on the ship to my hometown then we can part ways.” You reasoned. “Women can’t get on without an escort.” He kept his gaze fixed on you but you could see the gears spinning in his head.

“Don’t think for a second,” He came closer. “I would save you over myself.” He said through gritted teeth. 

You just nodded.

The docks were north of the town. It wouldn’t take long for you to travel with the carriages. But travelling with a hidden meant sticking to paths no one else knew about. It meant weaving through trees in the forest instead of walking in broad daylight. 

You weren’t allowed to pack much. You weren’t surprised, but you were hoping you could take more than a flask and scarf. He carried nothing else besides his sword. The snow falling on his head didn’t seem to bother him, but you couldn’t stand the specks of ice wetting your hair. 

“What are you going to be doing in my hometown?” You jogged up to walk next to him. He was quite fast. 

“I have someone to kill.” 

“Oh.” Your mouth had run dry. Of course he did.

“Better not be someone I know.” You tried to joke but he only raised an eyebrow at you. 

You cleared your throat. “I’m only poking fun.” 

He didn’t say anything.

The both of you walked for a couple more hours and he stopped you when the skies were starting to turn orange.

“We’ll rest here for tonight.” He halted in front of a large tree, its leaves protecting you from the snowfall. “I’ll get us some wood.”

As he searched for fallen bark, you were left behind, staring at your makeshift bed as you waited for him. It was…definitely a bed…you supposed.

It’s just this time. Tomorrow, you’ll find someplace else to sleep.

You sat, leaning on the tree as comfortably as you could. Your hunger wouldn’t let you rest peacefully, so you had no choice but to wait for him to return. 

While he was gone, you took the locket and turned it around between your fingers. You couldn’t quite figure out why the fragment of a pearl was so important. It wouldn’t even sell much, with how broken and small it was.

As soon as you heard his soft steps on the snow, you tucked it away.

He brought back a few berries and wood and when he started to light the fire, you could only watch. When the berries were finished and the both of you were leaning on different sides of the tree, you finally broke the silence.

“How’d you become a hidden?” You murmured softly. You thought he wouldn’t answer you.

“I wanted justice.”

“This person you want to kill,” You paused, cautious of your words. “What did they do?”

“He took something from me.”

You thought of the locket and the broken pearl in it. 

“Must have been important…” You muttered.

“Yeah, she was.” A lost loved one, you knew you didn’t have to ask more. “Why do you want to go back?” He asked.

“It’s more of a closure thing.” You shrugged. 

“How mysterious.” He said it with such a monotone voice, you weren’t sure if he was teasing. 

“Rich, coming from a hidden.” You joked, hoping he would play along. “What do you do anyway? Just kill people?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s pretty much the job.”

“Well,” You turned on your side, facing his direction. “How do you choose them? Is someone hiring you?” 

“What difference does it make?”

“Well, now we know it’s not fully on you.” You were sitting up now, hoping he would tell more. You could see him shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter whether I do it because someone told me to or it was my own will. Murder is murder.”

“Then why are you going to kill someone? If you know it’s wrong-”

“I never said that affected me.” 

“So you don’t think it’s wrong?”

“I never said that either.”

“Then, what are you saying?” You almost groaned the words out.

He turned to face you, leaning his head on the tree trunk. The glow of the fire made him look less frightening.  “It is what it is and I’m not trying to justify it. It’s just…” His words trailed off and you noticed his eyes wander behind you.

“What?” You asked, still clueless. “It’s just wh-” Before you could finish, he clasped a hand above your lips, muffling your next words. His other hand held your head, trapping you between his palms. 

“Shh, someone’s here.” He motioned for you to stay silent then in one swift move, he pulled you upwards. He was still cautiously watching the space behind you with sharp eyes and a deadly gaze. If he hadn’t scared them off, they must be serious.

“I’m going to give you a lift and you’re going to climb, understand?” He whispered, eyes still not on you. You nodded regardless.

“Okay,” He took his hands off you and clasped them low enough for you to stand on them before he pushed you upwards. You immediately grasped the thickest branch, praying it didn’t break. With all your strength, you pulled yourself upwards with both arms before sitting atop the tree’s arm.

It was only when you were leaning on the tree trunk, catching your breath, that  you realised he watched to make sure that you got on safely.

“Don’t move.” He whispered once you noticed him. Before you could respond, a twig snapped to your left, signalling danger.

He didn’t draw his sword immediately. Instead, he waited and only took small, careful steps towards the rest of the forest, something you found strange.

Why would he walk towards danger?

In the blink of an eye, a figure lunged at him. He evaded the attack, quickly swaying to his side to dodge the enemy. Another person ran out of the shadows, raising his sword above to slash him. 

But he was quicker.

With a cling and a squelch, he had sliced through the opponent’s stomach. However, he had no time to waste. The other man had picked himself up and he was bigger than his friend. You felt worry rise in your throat.

Nothing changed. 

It was magical, watching him fight his enemy with such grace. It was almost as if he was dancing, He moved so easily, you wondered how long he had been doing this.

He was silent too, only small groans knocked out of him in the rare moments he was hit. 

The loudest sound he made was just as you formed your thoughts. His enemy had punched him at the side, where his stitches were. Given his condition, it must have caught him off guard. The opponent landed another punch up his jaw, knocking him backwards.

His lean body stumbled backwards and you could see the enemy tower over him. You had to do something. 

But what could you do that wasn’t burdensome?

You gave it some thought. You had no weapon, no fighting skills, no strength. But perhaps…

There was no more time. It had to be now. 

So, you stood on top of the branch and you jumped, letting your entire weight drag you towards the ground, towards this dangerous man. 

And it worked…well, almost…

You let out a grunt as you landed atop his shoulders, barely breaking his posture. However, in the moment you were able to distract him, it was enough for him to grab his blade and slice.

Their blood splattered on your face.

You fell with the man, whose weight would have suffocated you if you were fully underneath him. Your hidden pulled you out and once you were standing in front of him, he held you by the shoulders and quickly scanned you.

“I’m fine.” You exhaled.

“What were you thinking?” He said through gritted teeth but you waved him off. When you tried to move away from him, his grip on you tightened. “That was dangerous! You have no idea what he could have done to you.”

“He would’ve hurt me anyway after he was done with you.” You argued. “We’re alive, I don’t see why you’re angry.” You brushed the snow off your clothes.

“You could have gotten killed.” You didn’t know someone could speak so calmly when they were clearly upset. You were about to say something when you noticed the growing dark red stain on his clothes.

“Your stitches came off.” You reached for him but he shook you off and held you down even harder.

“You can’t do that again. It’ll be dangerous for both of us.” He ordered but your eyes were still on his wound. His grip on your shoulders grew tighter and your concern immediately grew. 

“You’re hurt.”

“I don’t care.” He shook his head. “Tell me you won’t do that again.” 

“I’m not telling you anything! I don’t have anything with me to fix you up, we need to go back to the town.”

“Tell me,” His breathing was a little too ragged for you to ignore him once again. “Tell me, you won’t put yourself in harm’s way again.” You lifted your eyes to see him pleading.

“Only if you promise we go back to town and find help.”

He hesitated…but he eventually gave in. 

“Fine.” He huffed then finally released you.

He wouldn’t lean on you, despite how badly he was limping. 

“It’ll just slow us down.” He said. You wished he would just listen to you, but you realised he had probably learned to not trust anyone else but himself.

The sun was about to rise. Night patrol was starting to head back to their homes and shops were beginning to open. You knew you had to move quicker. Once you spotted the familiar bakery, you ran with haste, knowing he could keep up with you. 

Once he stood with you by the back door, he finally let out a wince and held his side. The both of you had been walking for about 1 hour to get here. With a rip of your skirt, you were able to wrap something around his wound in the meantime. But you could tell he was getting weaker.

“Where are we?” He breathed out, a cloud pushed past his lips. 

“A friend’s. She’ll be able to help.” You knocked on the door three times before you paused then knocked again. She immediately opened the door with her usual unwelcoming face.

“What do you want?” The old lady demanded and you nudged your head towards the injured man. Once she set eyes on him, she reached to close the door, but you held it open.

“You owe me.” It was about time you cashed it in anyway. She took a moment before she finally responded.

“Upstairs and be quiet.” She hissed and you smiled. 

“Of course.”

You told him to rest and he didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as you were finished stitching his wound again, he was already asleep. With his dreams clouding his senses, you didn’t need to worry too much about him hearing your conversation. 

“Why are you messing with hiddens?” Your friend asked, too much venom in the last word.

“I’m leaving and he’s helping me.” You explained. 

“They’re not good companions. He would probably leave you to die.” You thought of the disagreement you had with him earlier. He seemed so worried. 

“I just need his help to get on the docks then we go separate ways.”

“You could have asked anyone else.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Are you suggesting my boss or even my colleague would have helped me make the trip?” She only sighed.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” She whispered and you took a sip of your tea. You knew she was right, but you couldn’t admit it fully yet.

“Thank you for helping us.” You murmured. 

“We’re even now.” She stood from her seat and walked to the front of her shop. As she pushed the curtains aside, you went back up. Light was already pouring in from the windows, and the rays glided over his face. You drew the curtains closed so they wouldn’t wake him then sat beside his mat.

Just like before, he didn’t look threatening. And knowing what you knew now, he looked softer. You wouldn’t imagine that someone like him was a killer.

You had to wash his clothes so the only thing covering him was the blanket. His hair had been released from its bun and it now fell across his shoulders. You checked the stitch again, worried it might have broken while he shuffled in his sleep. 

As the hours passed by, the sounds of people on the streets could be heard from inside. It was soft and familiar. The muffled murmur made you slide down next to him, falling asleep. 

“Hey,” You heard it the first time, but you wanted to stay asleep anyways. “We have to go.” He was gently tapping you when you opened your eyes. His silhouette hovered over you and caught you surprised to learn he didn’t smell like blood.

“You don’t smell sweaty.” You whispered and he laughed a little. Strange, it was so melodic.

“I rinsed myself outside. Your friend gave us some soap.” As your vision cleared, you noticed he was wearing his loose top, his skin still visible underneath. You wished you could stop staring.

When he noticed what your eyes were on, he cleared his throat and covered himself up. 

“Thanks for washing it.” You nodded and turned away, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush on your cheeks. 

Once you got up, you gave yourself a quick rinse too. With ice in the air, showering was quicker than ever. He was all dressed when you returned. 

“Do you know what time the docks close?” You asked as you shrugged on your thicker layer.

“They usually stop people at sunset. That gives us a few hours.” He was turned towards the window, averting his eyes from you. 

“Through the forest or the town?”

“The town.” He said as you tied a knot around your clothes.

“We’ll go through town this time?” You asked.

“If we’re quick enough, there shouldn’t be a problem.” You stayed silent. You knew he was only referring to you. He would probably get there by noon if he was on his own. 

“Okay,” You turned around and saw him staring out the window. “I’m all ready.” He pushed himself off the wall and fastened his sword on his waist. Without another word, the two of you left.

You thanked your friend and bid your farewell. You weren’t sure when you would see the old lady again but you silently hoped that you would cross paths again someday. She would probably have wished otherwise.

As the two of you trudged through the snow, you realised he was still trying his best not to wince with every step. 

“Are your stitches okay?”

“Yes, it's just…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “It just hurts sometimes.” You weren’t sure how to console him. You brought no food and no medicine. The effects of the salve your friend gave him weren’t going to last long, but you didn’t expect that it had faded by now.

“What about we stop for some food? A warm meal might-”

“No, we’re heading to the docks and…” His breaths were heavier. “We don’t need to stop for anything. I’m fine.” 

You stayed silent the rest of the way. 

“You’re too shaky,” He said, causing you to stop fidgeting with your fingers. “Relax, they’ll let us in.” He murmured but you couldn’t brush the feeling off. How was he so sure?

“Your pass, sir?” The guard asked and he flashed a wooden card. You held your breath, hoping he would let the both of you go. 

The guard narrowed his eyes at you and you tried your hardest not to glare back at him. 

“You can go.” He finally said and the both of you walked up the ramp onto the wooden boat. There were enough people to make you nervous, even when you have passed the test. He must have noticed it because he wrapped an arm around your back and pushed you toward the side of the boat, where you had a view of the sea.

It still didn’t stop the shaking.

“Thank you.” You whispered to him. You weren’t sure how you would have gotten here if it weren’t for him. You couldn’t believe you had even made it this far. Whatever possessed you to have asked him must be strong. 

The journey wasn’t too long. By nightfall, you could see land. 

“That’s your home?” He asked and you sighed. 

“Somewhere there.” You said softly. It was time. “Well,” You turned around to face him. “I suppose this is where we part ways. Thank you, for your help all this time.” His lips were pursed and he looked almost…sad.

“Good luck.” He said.

“You too.” You smiled as the boat came to a stop. A line began forming but you hesitated to join it. 

“Go, you don’t want to be left behind when it’s getting late.”

You look at the growing crowd for a moment then back at him. “I hope you get your revenge.” You said and his eyes shifted. This was the first time he looked soft while he was awake. “And most of all, I hope you heal from it.”

Without another word, you left to join the line. You didn’t want to waste his time anymore. You’ve taken enough. But for some reason, you felt slight despair at the thought of this being your last moment with him.

Perhaps because he had helped you so much, you thought you owed him more than your thanks and…

His locket!

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to find him again, only to collide with two armed guards, fine swords strapped to their waists. They glared down at you and you felt the tiniest under their piercing gaze.

“Your pass.” They demanded. Your mind was going blank. They were going to catch you. All your lies were here to reveal the truth. They were grabbing you by the hair, pulling your lips apart so that you would-

“Dear, why have you gone so quickly?” 

His voice rang with clarity, bouncing off the walls of your skull. 

You looked up to your side, stunned that he had appeared out of nowhere to save you. He smiled at you then looked back up at the guards.

“Apologies, my wife…she’s rather nervous.” You swallowed and bowed your head.

“Well, you should learn how to keep her in check.” The guard hissed and you clenched the locket tighter in your hand. “What business do you have here?”

“We are paying a visit to my family.”

“Where?”

“Just north of the fallen village.” The guard asked for a pass and he gave it. You found yourself holding your breath again. Once he took a good look, he gave it back then crouched to whisper in your ear.

“I won’t be so lenient next time.” He threatened and you kept your head low. 

“Thank you gentlemen. I hope you have a nice rest of your day.” He said and pulled you towards the line, where you could finally breathe, or rather, pant.

“Why’d you turn back?” He asked as soon as the two of you were off the boat.

“Oh,” In the midst of chaos, you forgot why you were almost in trouble. “Here.” You passed the locket to him as the two of you walked. He stared at it in his palm. You thought he would have been more excited.

“Thanks.” He cleared his throat and clasped it around his neck. 

The only sounds you could hear were your soft footsteps in the snow. This part of the country was colder. There was not much you remember before you were taken from here, but the icy wind would always be a comfort to you. 

As the two of you walked into your quiet village, you noticed how barren it was. There were no more lights, no more life. The only sign of it was far ahead, where you could see the orange glow of a town. However, your own village was empty and quiet, only the wind hissing in your ears.

It felt as if your home was ripped away from you at the same time you were. 

As the two of you kept walking, you passed a familiar sight, the prayer board. You changed your direction and walked towards it. It felt as if you were your child self again, running to it to write your wishes down. 

You touched the wooden cards. How many of these children’s wishes were unfulfilled? How many children clung onto their hopes when they were attacked? How many people did these boards fail?

Your fingertips hovered over the silent prayers these people had. The ones on the top read prayers of protection, of safety for their family. Wishes for salvation, hope for escape.

It tore at your heart.

Your family were among these people.

“Hey, are you alright?” His voice brought you back and made you realise you were tearing up. You quickly wiped them away.

“Yeah, just cold.” He didn’t seem convinced but that didn’t matter to you. “My home is this way.” You were starting to walk but he stopped you.

“Wait,” You watched him strike one of the good matches against the table and he lit a prayer stick before placing it in the bowl of ash, covered by the snow. Then he put his palms against each other and closed his eyes. 

You weren’t sure what to feel. You were angry that these prayers never worked, so why would you do one right now? But watching how at peace he was at praying, it made you want to try again, just one more time. 

So you clasped your hands together and you thought of what you wished you could say. 

To my family, more than anything I wish that you are at peace.

To my neighbours, I hope that you travelled safely.

To him, I hope that your revenge helps you find yourself again.

Once you were finished, you took a step back and bowed. If they were going to answer any prayers, these should be the ones.

He did the same and the two of you continued walking. You weren’t feeling joyful enough to talk yet and he didn’t seem to push it. Surprisingly, the silent walk wasn’t dreadful. 

When you stopped in front of your home, it took everything in you not to turn away. You didn’t understand why you were afraid. There were no more monsters, no more soldiers who would take you away. You had come so far, this was your chance. 

You went up the steps slowly and slid open the door. Once you slipped off your shoes, you took soft steps on the wooden floors. The cabinets of the kitchen were open, some destroyed. The window was broken and snow had piled into the room, covering the dried food that was left here for ages. There was barely a smell, with the breeze coming in to whisk it away. 

The bedrooms were more intact. Your parents’ mats and blankets were pushed to the wall, undone. The wallpaper was peeling. The window had not been shattered but the mess was an indication that uninvited guests were here. There were bottles of alcohol across the floor and spots of red across the walls. 

You didn’t want to see more, but it was as if you could still hear their screams echo.

Finally, you were in your bedroom. The door had been kicked down and all your drawers were emptied, its contents scattered across the floor. You were only a child. The toys were all over the floor and some were broken into pieces. 

You bent down to pick some of them up slowly, as if you could break them even more. Your necklaces were all broken, and the beads were dispersed across the floor. Some beads were crushed and others were hidden underneath your mat.

They’ve destroyed everything, including yourself. 

Seeing your childhood doll sitting in a corner made you twitch. You loved this little, bear. Its fur was damp and it looked upset, as if it had missed you. You shouldn’t have left it. How would it have protected itself? 

The tears started coming and you found yourself clenching your fist around the doll. Your breaths were getting heavier and you could sense the familiar flame of anger rise in you. How could you let this happen to something you love?

You were dizzy with anguish. It was consuming you in ways you didn’t think possible. You had never felt so much fury. You had never felt so much pain swim through your blood. You didn’t know grief could cloud your vision.

How dare you?

How dare you live a life after everything you left behind?

How dare you hold your head up high when your family died for you?

Crash.

The sound snapped you out of your thoughts and you noticed red on your palm. You weren’t sure if it was the tears or the sadness, but either way, you couldn’t see anything nor could you feel anything. 

You must be dreaming this. How were you supposed to bleed if you couldn’t feel pain?

Are you…

…okay?

Are…okay?

You didn’t notice he came in. He had you by the shoulders and he was shaking you. 

“What’s wrong?” He was looking at you, but his gaze seemed to have shifted to the rest of you. Through blurry eyes, you watched him realise the blood on your palm. 

“I…I shouldn’t be here.” You sobbed. What have you done to deserve to breathe? What have you done to be here? Why, you?

You were getting too lightheaded. The air was too thin and you were shaking with every breath. It didn’t take long for the world to turn dark around you. 

You woke up to moonlight shining down on you through your windows. You were covered with a blanket and you could feel a soft mat under your back. After looking around for a few seconds, you remembered where you were. 

You tried to sit up but as you used your hand to support yourself, you felt a sharp pain shooting up your arm, causing you to wince and pull away. 

“You’re still injured, it’s better to not use that for a while.” He came out from the shadows, where your bear doll sat before you passed out. You looked at your palm. He had wrapped it nicely and there was no blood that had seeped through. He must have changed it often while you were asleep. 

“Thank you.” You muttered and he just nodded. 

“I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.” He didn’t respond at first. However, he sighed and sat closer to you. 

“I won’t question you for doing the things you want to do. It’s not my place.” He said softly. “I know this was important for you.”

You looked down at your palms. You thought this would bring you closure. You thought that seeing your home again would bring you peace. You had hoped it would be a good reminder of your childhood.

But all this has only brought you devastation.

“Thank you.” You murmured as tears slipped out from your eyes. 

“We should head back soon.”

“We?” You croaked as you looked back up at him. You had expected that he would desert you by now. He had his locket and nothing left to owe you. 

“Yes,” He shifted his eyes to look at you. “We.”

When the two of you stepped out of your house, it felt as if you were breathing new air. He stepped out after you and slid the door closed, as if he was doing a favour to whoever was inside. You had convinced him to go to the nearby town, where you could get some food before your journey back home. 

With much hesitation, he finally allowed it. So, here the two of you were, standing before the street lined with food carts and children running to and fro with their new paper crafts. It was a wonder that the village was still bustling at this time. There must have been some important celebration.

As much as this brought light back into your heart, you noticed that he was still cautious. His eyes kept shifting and the grip on his sword was tight. He didn’t seem to be letting his guard down. 

“Are you alright?” You asked him as the two of you kept walking. He nodded his head but you weren’t convinced. “What about some food? I think noodles sound like a good idea right now, don’t you think?” He looked at you, as if to question your choices.

You stopped walking and stood in front of him, halting him too. “Hey, I’m okay. This,” You raised your injured hand. “Will go away soon. You don’t have to worry.” You smiled at him and you could see his eyes soften for a moment. 

“That’s-”

A loud firework from behind you drowned his voice away. Its loud pop also covered the scream that you let out and let you hide the embarrassment of having jumped from it. You were relieved to find that everyone else had been too distracted by the pretty sparklers for them to notice your embarrassing stunt. 

Except the man whose arms you had jumped into. Everyone else except him.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You quickly pulled away from him once you noticed. You kept your face down. It was enough to have him catch you, he didn’t need to see how red you were. As you pretended to brush down your clothes, you wished he would say something to break this tension. 

He cleared his throat and you watched his shadow grow over you. Before he could do anything, you quickly spoke.

“I’ll be right back!” You squealed before you ran off into the crowd, hoping the people would allow you to drown your embarrassment within them. 

How foolish…

You kept jogging until you slipped between stalls and managed to hide behind a house. Once you were alone, you finally crouched against the wall and drew a deep breath. 

You threatened this man, how were you embarrassed over falling into his arms?

You shook your head in disbelief at yourself. That was too embarrassing to live down. As you waited for your heart to stop beating so rapidly, you looked at your wrapped hand. The cloth was thin and you wondered where he must have gotten it. You started to think about what happened. You were too angry to see that you had hurt yourself, too wrecked to understand how broken you actually were. 

You wondered what he thought of you. You hoped he had not seen you as the coward that you saw yourself as. 

When you heard footsteps coming towards you, you moved to stand. As you took a moment to recollect yourself, you thought about what you should say to him. Another apology wouldn’t make sense. Another lie to cover your embarrassment wouldn’t work either. 

“I…” You turned to look at him and your stomach dropped when you noticed it wasn’t him. Two men pointed their spears at you and another walked in between them towards you. 

“Who are-”

“Take her.” The man in the middle spoke and before you could reply, the other two were already dragging you away from the village, away from the crowd that would have been safer, away from him. 

“I don’t…I don’t have anything! Please, let me go!” They pulled you onto a cart, where they tied your wrists together, all while you were pleading for your life. “Please,” You whimpered. This couldn’t be real. Why were these men taking you away? Why…

“You’re going to tell us everything you know about him right now. And if we don’t get enough answers, it’s your life we take.” One of them threatened but you kept shaking your head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Please, let me go.” You pleaded as they put a sack over your face.

“Where is he? The man you travelled with.” 

Oh.

It’s about him.

“I don’t…I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came alone.” You lied quieter. 

“Tell us the truth. We won’t hurt you if you do.” You shook your head again. They had come to hurt him and they were using you for it. 

You could let them. You could lead them to him and have him fight for his life. You could be safe.

But why would you after everything he had done for you? Why would you betray him when he wrapped your wound? Why would you feed him to his enemies when he has shown you so much kindness?

You couldn’t see anything through this bag over your head. It was too dark to make out what was happening. 

“I’m going to ask you one more time.” The man speaking was so close to your ear, you felt his breath on your cheek. “Where is he?”

“I’m not telling you.”

Stupid.

An order was given as soon as you finished speaking. You had no time to run. They had started to pull your hair and hit you everywhere, asking again and again the same question. 

Where is he?

As you felt pain in all sorts of places and you cried out for them to stop, you wondered where he could be. You wished he would save you. 

But you also wished he would run away, so that maybe, he would at least be safe.

As your vision turned dark and you tasted blood on your lips, you whispered his name slowly. Quiet enough so they wouldn’t have caught it and gentle enough so you wouldn’t forget.

How many more times must I go through this?

“You have failed again.”

How many more times must she die for me to finally get it right?

All I wanted was justice. All I wanted was the satisfaction of his blood on my hands.

It was never supposed to be her. It was never supposed to be anyone else but him.  

I am tired. I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to see her suffer because of me again. I just…

I want to rest.

There’s that blinding light again. 

“Go.”

If I stay here forever, she will live.

I don’t care what happens to me. I just want her to be alright. 

“Go.”

Must I really?

“Save her and you shall get the vengeance you seek.”

There’s a future, a time, a round, when she finally doesn’t end up dying. There will be an end to this game, this torment, this cycle.

There’s that light again.

I can only hope it is different this time. 

He found himself in front of the library again, where he knew he would find you. Your coworker had left, at the same time he always did. The glowing light coming from inside belonged to you, as always. 

He would walk in with this wound and he would let you treat him. Then you would steal from him and he would need to take you to your hometown. You would get hurt and he would treat you. You would insist on going to the village and you would get taken.

Then you would be killed.

He would find your body and realise he had failed again. He would know, by seeing the blood seeping from your skull that he wasn’t able to protect you, that he had done something wrong again. 

He had been here so many times. He had tried so many things to keep you safe and all his attempts had been futile. He didn’t remember the first time anymore, it was all such a blur to him. They, whoever had trapped him here, said something about anger being his burden. 

He found it ridiculous. His burden was this, needing to save you to quench his thirst for revenge. He was no hidden. He was simply a murderer that existed alongside them.

Everytime he begged you when he burst through the doors, he was hoping you would leave him alone. He was hoping you would turn him away and he would be free from this fate. But you, your kind heart and intelligent self, you always took him in. 

He had memorised your face. He had seen you so many times and yet something was always different. 

You always cared for him, even when he didn’t deserve it. He always wondered, would you be any different if you knew your fate? 

Would you have turned away if you knew getting intertwined with him meant death?

Regardless of the answer, he himself had no choice. He always had to fight for you, almost as if he was born to protect you and the heavens wouldn’t let him rest until he did. 

You were humming when you treated him. Your touch was gentle and you winced even though he was the one having alcohol poured onto his flesh. He thought it might have been strange for him to think of you as anything more than just another passerby in his life. 

But repeating the same scenes with you hundreds of times had made something different for him. 

He learned to actually care for you and he began to want to protect you. It was no longer just about his revenge. He wanted to make sure you could get out of this hell unscathed, well, mostly.

When the two of you arrived at your hometown and he stopped you to pray, he had hoped it would give you something to believe in again. Every time you saw your village again, he watched it shatter you to pieces, and it silently broke him too.

He, too, said a prayer.

In one instance, you had actually asked him what he prayed for but he didn’t dare say. He was afraid you would run off.

All his prayers were the same. He didn’t think it possible to ever want anything else.

In all the times you passed your bedroom, you hurt yourself and passed out. In all those times, he had to treat you and plead it was the last time. In the latter half of those times, he would step out and do everything he could to not end his life, to not blame himself once again, to not leave you alone.

And even though you had jumped in his arms so many times, his heart still beat rapidly, as if it was the first time all over again. 

He had watched you die too many times. Hearing their kicks against your face and body along with your yelps of pain haunted him. He still had trouble sleeping until now. 

You had never fully survived your kidnapping. There were a few times that you had managed to hang on, but the loss of memories was too severe for you to live on. He remembered the first time you survived, vividly.

He brought you back to your home, where he drew a warm bath for you and he gathered all the medicine he could. When he realized that you were coming up with a fever and he had found nothing within your own cabinets, he let you fall asleep and then he returned to the village for supplies.

When he came back to you, the house was a mess. You were flinging things onto walls when he came into your room. You looked crazed, crying and bleeding all at once. And when his eyes locked with yours, he knew he was a stranger. 

“Hey,” He gently placed his sword and supplies on the wooden floor before he took careful steps to you.

You screamed and threw a jewellery box at him, which he was able to avoid with ease. But his worry did not disappear, for the sight of you like this broke him all the same. 

“Please,” He took another step toward you, reaching out for the person inside you that knew him. But it was no use pleading with a stranger. 

“You did this! You took me away!” You sobbed and threw another toy at him, which he blocked with his forearms. He thought you had mistook him for a soldier.

“No,” He shook his head slowly and held his palms out in surrender. “I’m not one of them.” All while walking slowly to get closer. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He whispered.

You looked terrified. He would never be able to erase that look on your face. You looked at him with such disgust, it was a wonder you once cared about his stitches.

***

“Please, let me help you.” His eyes shifted to your palms, where the wrap was gone and blood dripped down your fingers. There were scratch marks everywhere he could see, on your neck and shoulder, red, fresh stripes. “You’re bleeding and you’re not feeling well.” He said slowly. With every breath he took, he took another step towards you. 

“I…I don’t know where I am.” You whimpered and he could see you opening up to him. “W-Who are you?” You gasped through tears.

The man that held his hand out for you was no longer someone you had built a relationship with. He was a ghost to you. 

“I…” He couldn’t find himself finishing the words. As he looked at the state of you, he felt this sharp pain in his chest. It didn’t matter who he was. You had lost your mind and you were afraid.

Of the world, of him, and most importantly, yourself. 

“I don’t understand anything.” You cried. “I don’t…I don’t know who…” You were breathing so hard, your body collapsed. He quickly ducked and took you in his arms, for the second time that day.

You were murmuring something that he couldn’t make out. Regardless, his attention was elsewhere. Besides the scratches and bleeding palm, he noticed the cuts you had everywhere.

Foolish boy…

He should have never left you alone. 

“Please…” You exhaled and he felt warmth rising in his face. “Please make it stop.” He looked at you, growing limp in his arms and your body bleeding out. 

“I’ll get some medicine, just hang on.” He said but you started whimpering in his embrace. You continued to scratch yourself and he watched helplessly as your nails dug into your skin. 

“Don’t do that, please.” He tried to stop you but you hit him. You slapped his chest and screamed for you to let go of you. That’s when he had that inkling feeling of doom.

***

He wished you knew that it wasn’t because it hurt. He was stronger than that. He also wanted you to know that it wasn’t because he couldn’t bear the burden of a screaming woman.

Regardless, he realised that his reason was selfish anyways. He didn’t want to watch you in pain anymore. So he took you in his arms and he shushed you gently, whispering to you.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. I promise.”

It took you a while but once you were no longer pushing him away, he whispered a goodbye. Then very quickly, he broke his heart and snapped your neck.

He would never call himself a hero. Not after everything he had done. Seeing your face again after his murder almost made him burst into tears. You were still so kind, protected from the truth of what he had done to you before. 

Killing you made him lose faith.

He screamed at the skies, cursing the deities that placed him in this cycle for their sick lesson. 

“How many?” He yelled. “How many more times until you let me go?” He was furious and the tears wouldn’t stop.

“How many more times does she die? How many more times do I hurt her?” He pleaded on his knees as he screamed the words into the endless night. The stars didn’t answer, as much as he wished they would.

He tried everything to end his life, jumping off houses, slicing his wrists, surrendering himself. It was as if it was a game and the only way to complete this was to achieve his mission of revenge, which could only come after saving you. 

Time and time again, he watched the same scenes pass by him as if they were seasons. He wanted to break free. He wanted this to end. 

So now, as he stood before you in this village once again, having travelled the same route as the two of you had before, he silently hoped that this time, it would be different.

When you ran away, he made sure to follow you. He knew that you needed some air after what you would call an embarrassing moment, which he respectfully disagreed with. But after all the times he had watched you die, he had learned that he needed to stay close to you.

As he waited for his enemies to come, he watched how nervous you were, squatting down and murmuring to yourself about how foolish you were to jump in his arms. If the circumstances weren’t so dire, he may allow himself to swoon. 

He was hiding underneath the shadow of a rooftop, where he watched and waited for his time to strike and to hopefully, save you. He had to get it right this time. He couldn’t possibly live with the terror forever. 

There was no other option. 

“Take her.” The familiar order of the armed men pushed him to act.

He immediately jumped down in between you and the armed men, running the risk of being pierced as he fell from the sky. He heard you stutter his name as he fend the two of you off from danger. 

“Cut off his head.” The middle man hissed and at once, the other two lunged forward to attack him. Without a second thought, he pushed you aside and yelled at you to hide. 

As he fought the two men, he hoped that you had found a safer place. As soon as you were out of sight, he didn’t have to hold back. 

There were only three bodies, the biggest being the one in the middle. As one of them wrestled him, the other tried to reach for his legs to trip him. But he was faster and he was able to throw the man on top of him to the ground. 

As that one struggled to get up, the other pounced on him, throwing him off his balance. Their two bodies toppled onto the floor, where his enemy straddled him and began punching his face. After a few hits, he began to taste blood. 

Knowing he wouldn’t last long enough, he reached for a stone and smashed it against the man’s skull. He heard a wet sound then a thud. But this didn’t faze him as he stood and faced the two other men. 

The one he threw off himself had gotten up and he was obviously starting to be tired. His breathing was ragged and he had drawn a spear to protect himself. 

He took a deep breath and drew his sword.

Give me the strength to complete my duty.

In one swift move, he chopped the spear off then proceeded to stab the man holding it. The tip of his sword glimmered underneath the moonlight, and blood dropped from its metal shine. There was no noise from him when he pulled the blade back, just the sound of his insides being passed.

When he lifted his eyes to the largest man, he gripped onto his sword again, steadying it in front of him.

“Take me to him, your master.” He exhaled but the soldier didn’t budge. Instead he brought out a hammer and charged at him.

He ducked underneath his arms and managed to escape onto the other side, where he regained his posture. The large man turned and yelled before he brought his hammer down again. His size made him slower, an advantage he wasn’t afraid to take. 

He jumped up onto his shoulders, where he took the man’s head in his hands and pulled at it. His fingers dug into his cheeks and eyes and his enemy’s cries of pain told him it was working. 

Even though he was slower, he was stronger. 

With a fling, he had taken him off his shoulders and thrown him onto the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs and he was struggling to climb back up. 

As the large man towered over him, he saw the blood streaming down his eye sockets and he thought about his next move. 

He had to survive this. He was so close. 

He looked for his sword and noticed the familiar glimmer not too far away. He pulled himself to his feet and scurried to his weapon, grabbing it before he was attacked again. Once it was back in his hands, he took a deep breath and ran towards the giant, with his blade raised high.

Zing.

He sliced through the man’s neck, his blood splattered all over himself. He felt the droplets on his face and smelled it in the air.

It was over.

He had saved you.

The wind tonight soothed his wounds and the silence gave him a moment of peace before he looked for you. He found you hiding between the walls of two houses with your knees up to your chest. You were shaking when he approached you.

“Hey,” He breathed out and the sight of him seemed to have startled you. That’s when he realised all the blood he was covered in. “Sorry.” He murmured as he covered himself with his sleeve. 

But you only cried and threw your arms around him.

“I was so scared.” You whispered.

“It’s okay.” He placed his sword on the ground and took a breath, taking a breath of your hair. “You’re safe now.” 

Hearing you cry made his own heart bubble. He had fought so hard for this moment. 

It was over.

You finally lived.

He helped you return to town and that was where he parted ways before he was finally able to return to his journey. He didn’t want to make you sad, he had enough of that. 

“Stay safe.” He said before he parted ways with you. As he walked away, he fought every fiber in him to turn back. He wanted to reach his destiny, kill him, and finally earn the revenge he fought tooth and nail for.

It was pleasant to see the look of surprise on the master’s face when he burst through the doors. Even more so, it was satisfying to see how helpless he was. With no men to guard him, no swords to fight for him. 

This ‘king’ was afraid of him, the man with a sword, the man he spat on and underestimated, the man he decided to take from. 

“Please…I beg you.” The sight of him shivering made him want to laugh. He did not endure a hundred days of suffering for him to give up.

This was what he came for. This was the job he was going to finish.

“This is mercy.” He said.

As he raised his sword in the air, he whispered his lost loved one’s name.

Then he sliced the king’s head off.

As he walked outside into the forest again, having rained terror on his enemy’s home, he felt as if he could finally breathe again. His knees buckled onto the snow, creating deep, bloody, indents on white. The cold numbed his wounds and he found himself thinking about you.

Perhaps you were at the library again, dreaming of this other life that you had a few days ago. Perhaps he could go see you. 

Perhaps, the two of you could start over. He could be normal and his sword would hang as memory. He would walk you to your job at the library and he would help out at a local printing store. Maybe he could learn to trust and love again. 

Let me see her.

If it weren’t for the dark edges of his vision growing and the heavy pain growing from his stomach, perhaps he could have mustered enough strength to find you again. But he was only able to lay there, staring at the branches that carried piles of snow. 

You had better be safe. This weight was too heavy for him to carry again. 

It might have been the snow that numbed his fingertips, but it could have also easily been the thousand cuts from guards he passed. Regardless, it didn’t matter. 

You were safe.

You were home.

You were free.

He could only think of his prayer as he let it take over. 

I pray that this is the last time we will be each others’ undoing.

epilogue. 

A second chance, as they say.

“This is where most of us usually are. So, if you ever need help, this is where you can find us.” She pointed towards the kitchen, where a few of her colleagues were chatting. 

“And this is where you are.” The tour guide said before stopping by a room. “Your partner should be here soon, if not yet inside. You’ll be working closely together so make sure you get to know her.” 

He nodded then went inside.

It was a small workstation, with one oval-shaped table in the middle and about four seats in total. A whiteboard was hoisted on the right wall and he could see that scribbles were recently erased.

There were no paintings or posters but shelves of history books decorated the small space they had. He set his things down by one of the chairs and he waited for his partner. People always said he was an expert at hiding nerves. But he knew they just didn’t notice the tiny flinches he made or the rapid bouncing of his legs. 

A knock on the door woke him from his self-made trance.

“Excuse me?” 

He cleared his throat and stood from his seat to greet her. She stumbled in with a stack of books and a cup of coffee on top of her laptop. He immediately went to help her keep the door open as she tried her best to carefully place her things on the desk. Once she was done organising her things, she finally looked up at him, wide smile and all.

“Thank you.” She breathed out. 

He nodded. Just as he was about to turn back to his desk, she reached her hand out.

“Nice to meet you, by the way. I’m…” He slid his hand in hers and shook it firmly. 

“Nice to…”

As if there was a string all along…

She let out a small chuckle, eyebrows furrowed as if she was confused. “Have we met before?” She asked.

We intertwine again.

a/n: ho ho ho! a 10k story?!?! i had been wanting to do a time travel fic for a bit and i finally found the way to do it. i tried my best to make this angsty and sad but i am not sure how sad it turned out to be but i do hope it is to some degree, devastating. one thing i did want to sort of do was i made the first part present tense because i figured the reader could have lost most of her memories but because she held on so tightly to his name, she managed to remember that first time they met, which she will ofc always hold dear to her heart. anyways, i hope you enjoyed and i will try my best to get things out but i've been so busy! trying to get back on that angst grind. thank you for reading and i appreciate each one of you <3

[sweethartlullaby]

your hidden words

word count: 952 genre/theme: fluff as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

The snow falls gently outside of the window and you wonder what each snowflake feels when it touches the ground. 

“You ready?” His voice pulls you back to the studio, where all the blinding lights are pointed at both of you. You smile at him nervously and he returns it. 

“3.”

Two.

“1.”

“Welcome back to the final season of our podcast…” You smile at the camera as your counterpart introduces the both of you. After your introduction, he brings up the phrase of the day. 

“We’re learning how to use ‘I’m not…’ today.”

There’s something strange about how you feel today. Maybe it’s because it’s because the podcast you’ve held dear to your heart is ending soon. But you know it’s probably because this is the last week you will spend with him. 

Your heart aches at the thought that’s been keeping you up at night.

“So, how do we say ‘I’m not lying.’ in this language?” He turns to you for an answer that your mind is scrambling to get. Your eyes drift to his flashcards and immediately answer, smile and all.

He grins at you and turns back to the camera. When the camera pans onto you, he grabs the hand on your lap and gives it a light squeeze, shooting a blush up your cheeks. He pulls away as soon as the camera zooms out to the both of you. 

“And a lot of boys like to use, ‘You’re beautiful, I’m not lying.’ as their pickup line.” You say and he laughs. 

“Do you disagree?” You turn to him and he shakes his head.

“Just so our viewers know, I’ve never used such a tacky line before.” 

“Oh, really?” You ask sarcastically and he raises an eyebrow at you, the grin still plastered on his face. “Tell us, what is your secret technique.” He resists at first but when he eventually gives in, he turns to you and says…

“I’m not lying, I think your hand fits perfectly with mine.” His eyes burrow into yours and it takes you a few seconds to tap out and chuckle, trying to wave off his strong gaze with your hand. 

“I hate to break it to you, but that’s just as tacky.” You say and he laughs. You’re fidgeting with your own fingers underneath the table as you struggle with not bursting at the seams for the last five minutes of this episode.

When the lights come back on and everyone starts packing, you finally let out a short breath and your co-star turns to you, still grinning. 

“You can stop smiling now. The cameras are off.” You joke and he shakes his head.

“You haven’t answered me.” 

“I wasn’t aware you asked a question.” You raised an eyebrow and he chewed down on his lip as his arms crossed upon his broad chest.

“You’re right, it wasn’t really a question, much more an invitation.” You’re still lost, so you lean in and look up at him, raising both eyebrows this time. He chuckles and lowers his lips to your ears, whispering sweet words.

“Do you want to check if your hand fits perfectly with mine?” Your cheeks warm and you have to clench your hands again, but before you can, his fingers have slid into the gaps between yours, eliciting a short gasp from you. 

You turn to him sharply, eyes widened with alert, but he looks calm and if anything, his smile is wider.

“Someone will-”

“Bye you two! Thank you for your hard work!” The last crew member leaves and it is just the two of you. He pulls you just an inch closer and he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. 

You, likewise.

“A-Aren’t you going home?” You raise yourself high, even after stuttering.

“You’re so cute when you’re nervous.” He whispers and he brushes a few strands of hair away from your neck, tucking them behind your ear.

“The episode is over. You don’t have to tell me more of your tacky one-liners.” You mumble and you feel yourself closing in on him. 

“Then tell me,” He pulls away just as you feel his breath on your skin and he sits on his chair. “Do you think I’m saying this for the episode?” His hand is still holding onto yours as he gazes into you endearingly. He pulls you closer and you let him, close to sitting on the chair next to him…

Or his lap.

You try to hide your smile and he pulls you onto his seat, letting you rest on top of his thighs.

“You’re not fighting me.” He mumbles.

“Maybe I’m just too nice.” You say and cock your head to the side.

“Or maybe you want to accept my invitation?” You can’t tell if it’s him being a tease or if it’s hope that you let him in. Regardless, you find yourself nearing your lips to his. Your eyes flick to his and you have to hand it to him, he’s hiding all nervousness really well, even though his pupils are shaking.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He begs and you can’t help but smile.

“Why?”

“It does things to me.” His words come out hot and breathy, and you feel a swirl in your stomach, a tingling in your fingers.

“Oh,” Your eyes soften. “What’s going to happen if I actually take your hand?” His lip darts out to lick his lower lip, to which the swirling intensifies.

“Please do it.” He pleads and you almost laugh at how quick he switches. “Please take my hand.”

“Okay sweet boy.” You mutter and slowly take his free hand, lining your fingers up with his. “Ask me out.”

a/n: yay! she finally wrote!

[sweethartlullaby]

what i wanted you to tell me

word count: 860 genre/theme: angst, language! as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

He looks furious and the pinch in your gut is telling you to run, but you stand your ground, with tears slipping down your skin and shaking fists.

“You used me.” You whisper and he whips his head to you, eyes blazing with the utmost fury. “You can’t even lie to yourself about it because you know it too.” Your lungs heave as your eyes burrow into him, digging into his icy heart.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How can I not?” You demand with a roar clawing out of your throat. “I thought you were everything. I wanted you to be everything.” You almost yell. “And you,” The sigh that comes out resembles the gust of winds that accompany tornadoes. “You saw me as nothing more than just some hotel; that you could stay in when you wanted and you just left when you felt like it, no commitment, no strings, just when you wanted a change of scenery.”

He shakes his head and sighs but his sounds like laughter, and it makes your stomach churn.

“You don’t get it.” He says and there’s an upset smile on his face.

“No, you don’t get it. You don’t get how you treated me like absolute shit and you’re still in denial about it.” Anger boils within you as you point an accusing finger at you. His head shakes the whole time you speak, even as he drags a hand down his face. “I don’t understand what ego you must have for it to be this difficult to admit that you fucked-”

“I would have fucking stayed.” 

The air seems to whoosh out of your lungs within the second that follows his words. He is looking anywhere but you and when the light shines on his face the right way, you see the wet streaks under his eyes.

“I wanted you.” He looks down and for some reason, you find yourself making your way to him. “As much as you wanted me.” The steps stop. You’ve heard this before. It was there when you asked him that night in the empty restaurant, whether he really loved you. And when the both of you walked along the beach, and you asked if this was all a dream. But it was there when he left you and told you that he didn’t want this anymore. 

It was then you questioned whether it was all a lie.

Your senses can’t lie.

But he can.

And just like then, you still find yourself drawn to him. 

“I wanted it to be us.” He finally faces you and the smile is gone.

“You’re lying.”

He sighs out and he shakes his head. “You know what your problem is?” He clenches his jaw and you cross your arms, all sentiment of him erased.

“You don’t fucking see yourself the way everyone else does. You keep talking about how no one likes you back and how no one would ever appreciate you in the way that you wanted to be appreciated.” 

“And you know what that does? That clouds your fucking vision.” 

You try not to shake from his words.

“No, I wanted you. I tried my ultimate best to give you what it was you deserved. But I can’t fucking change your mind! I can’t erase all the evidence that you have in your head for you to just see me!” He waves his arms in the air. His eyes haven’t left you until now.

“I loved you and that night broke me as much as it did you.” 

“But you still did it.” You quickly say.

“I had to.” You shake your head.

“That’s where we’re different. You would’ve fought for me because you knew I was doing the same for you. You would’ve told me what you were so afraid of because then, I would’ve held your fucking hand and I would’ve walked us through it.” 

“You’re right, my vision is clouded. But you can’t blame me when you added to this pile of evidence. There were a hundred different ways you could’ve done it. There are tons of possibilities that could have emerged from us.”

“You could’ve not been an asshole. You could’ve stayed with me. You could’ve just left me alone. You could’ve spared me from yourself.” His face drops at the last few words and you feel a twinge of guilt.

“You don’t get to blame me after everything. You don’t get to walk away and put it all on my soul, on my doing, on my being!” You hiss. “I spent years trying to erase you while you threw yourself into other’s beds. It doesn’t make sense. I can’t see the way your words and your actions tie together.” You sigh.

“Most importantly, if you really loved me, you would’ve come back.”

“But seeing this,” You feel your heart drop as you realize that it is never going to happen. This isn’t going to be the fairytale ending you wanted all those years ago. “I know that we’ll never work.”

You feel it, in the air, in your bones.

It isn't only your heart that broke from those words.

a/n: a short one! i did want this to be a makeup story but for some reason i'm kind of leaning more into these sad ones more hehe. maybe i might write like a makeup thing but i'm not sure yet! so if you really want it, then let me know <3

[sweethartlullaby]

everything hurts more in the cold

word count: 216 genre/theme: angst as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

like when i stubbed my toe on the door and the burn lasted longer than it usually did or when my fingers slammed against the railing and it felt number for so much longer i always thought that it was because it had so much more to regain when it was frozen as if my organs had to shake off the ice that built up from the blizzards it faced but that didn’t make sense when you left there are so many blankets of protection around my heart how did it still get frozen?  maybe the air that carried your words that i breathed  branched from my lungs  like a pernicious venom that waited for the best moment to strike and it didn’t feel like my toe or finger did it was far more scathing leaving blisters everywhere that stung but weren’t enough for me to break completely i kept thinking you were going to turn around  that you would put a bandaid above each cut but you let the cold ache me was it too much for you to watch? how do you think it felt? i couldn’t even feel the caress of the first snowfall that night each one falling to cradle me with their little arms when i wished i was in yours

a/n: a short one! i hope you enjoyed and i'd love to hear who you thought of!

[sweethartlullaby]

the just world belief

word count: 474 genre/theme: psychopathic reader! mention of knife as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

“My mom used to say that good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. So what I don’t understand is, what did I do to deserve this?” You drag the knife across the fence, each tap echoing in this basement.

“What was it that I did that was so bad that you had to do this to me?” The disbelief in your chuckle cannot be hidden. “I don’t get it. I followed the rules, I was a nice person, I sat quietly, I watched, and I never fought.” You crouched in front of him and pushed his chin up with the blade, watching as he winced from being so close to something so deadly.

“So why do you treat me like I’m the scum under your shoe? Why do you say things to me as if I deserve them? Why do you tell me to go to hell when all I’ve done is give?” You beg but he doesn’t say anything. All your anger has dissipated and seeing him in fear, tied up makes you only think about kissing him again.  

“I thought, my mom must be wrong. There must be something, a glitch in the system or a switch of the rules when I wasn’t looking.” You sigh. “I said to myself, you can’t be a bad thing either. You can’t be something that I will never want to look at again. You must be good because I was good.” A maniac laugh shoots out of your throat and you must’ve been digging the blade deeper because he groans. 

“Don’t you get it?” You lean closer and hiss. “It doesn’t fucking make sense. The puzzle doesn’t fit.” 

“You’re either good and you get good things or you’re bad and you get bad things. So which is it?” When he doesn’t answer, you push it deeper into his skin, just enough to not see red.

Still nothing.

“Disappointing.” You sigh and pull it away just a bit but stay in front of him. “I told myself, maybe you’re just a good person who had to do a bad thing. You would never hurt me, right?” You look into his eyes, the way that made him be able to stare into you for hours. Even now, you can see it, the urge for him to lunge at you and devour you. A smile creeps up your face as you near his ears and whisper, “But you know what? Good people don’t do bad things. So you’re not a good person.” 

You pull back just a bit before you push your lips onto his, and surprisingly, he’s kissing you back. You would let this go on forever if you could, but you pull away and wrap the tie around his face again, silencing him. 

“If only you listened to my mom.” 

a/n: i'm writing a paper for my class and i thought about this while reading about this. i thought it was going to be sappy and sad but i decided to write this instead! i hope you enjoyed.

[sweethartlullaby]

love in the rain

word count: 251 genre/theme: fluff, acts of service as always, imagine whoever you would like...

The deep puddles make you wonder for the hundredth time, when will they fix this road?

You stare at the water, figuring out where to step to avoid getting soaked. But just as you take your first few steps, your shoelace comes undone and drowns in the puddle.

You immediately groan and quickly move to dry land as your boyfriend follows you from behind, wondering why you look so annoyed. You lift your shoe and he keeps his eyebrow raised.

"Aren't you going to tie your shoelaces?" He asks and you stare at the soggy string, wincing to yourself as you imagine touching it.

"It's all wet and gross now." You whine and after a pause, he laughs.

"Baby," He comes near you and kisses your cheek. "It'll get dirtier if you leave it like that."

"Well, I'm not touching it! Do you see that?" You point as city water drips.

"Baby," He sighs and crouches in front of you before he takes the two strings and ties them together, twice. 

"But," You start to protest but he shushes you. You watch in awe as he does his magic, holding the soggy strings with no hint of disgust.

"I know you'll never touch these shoes again if it gets any dirtier." You blink up at him and he smiles as he wipes his fingers on his jacket.

"But your hands are dirty now." You say and he laughs. "It's a bit of dirt for your comfort. Don't worry about me, princess."

a/n: a fluff! i thought of this one when i was walking to work and i saw a few girls walking together and one of their laces came undone.

[sweethartlullaby]

heyyy! loved the « 17 again with you » and would loveee a part 2!

word count: 2969 genre/theme: angst, young love as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

The pills slide down his throat easily as they have done so the previous hundred times. The house is silent at this time of the night. Being back home has its perks, endless food and attention after being away for so long are nice but best of all, he gets to sleep in his bed.

After he hides the pills in the drawer, he stares at the ceiling again. Meeting you at the party is something he had not fully thought about. He had been avoiding the thought of you for a week now; even the slightest reminder of you made him immediately seek distraction. 

He wishes he said more to you, whether it’s a lame comeback or to beg on his knees for you to talk to him. He just wishes he had said more. 

When he has tossed and turned for about two hours, he finally takes out his phone and scrolls to your number. The last text still being yours, he types. Once a paragraph has been created, he reaches to press send but his thumb stops just above the arrow. 

He reads it again and fixes a few typos but still can’t bring himself to send it. Each time his thumb hovers above the arrow, he goes back and re-reads his paragraph. 

Too pathetic.

Too needy.

Too angry.

Too long.

Once it’s been thirty minutes of this back and forth with himself, he finally turns his phone off in defeat and hides under the blanket. 

It wasn’t like she was ever going to read it anyway.

“You don’t understand!” He doesn’t like when his mother raises her voice. It makes him feel like a child again and he isn’t that. He isn’t someone who should be yelled at as if he doesn’t know any better.

He does know better.

“This won’t end well.” He clenches his fist under the table. He knows what she means. He knows her fear of him getting hurt. He was afraid too but he had put that past him when he decided to be with you.

“You’re going to regret it if you stay with her. There’s nothing that should be stopping you from being the best.” He chews on the inside of his cheek. He wants to say something. He wants to defend you and explain that you would never hold him back. But nothing comes out.

“Do what’s best for you.” His mother sits beside him and takes his hand into hers. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” She whispers and even though she has angered him so much in one night, he still feels the sincerity in her voice. With nothing else to say, he just nods. 

“You’ve grown taller.” Someone remarks but he doesn’t catch who it’s from. He’s back at his high school again and fortunately, he hasn’t had the need to break down in the bathroom. “Will you be staying-”

The door behind his friend opens and you step out. Everything goes silent, even his heart feels like it has stopped beating. Your eyes touch his but it’s too quick to read. You pass a bag to one of the teachers and say something but it all sounds muffled to his ears. He watches in silence as you quickly make your leave, leaving him and the previous crowd. 

“She works here?” Someone asks.

“No, she’s just dropping something off. I think she might be leaving somewhere soon.” He looks down at his shoes because he knows that if he lets his eyes wander, they will follow your path out of his presence. 

Once he is back in his car, he takes his phone out and goes to your number, looking back at the paragraph he meant to send. 

Only, it’s no longer in the message box and is its own text. He stares at it for a few seconds and he thinks it isn’t real but then he sees that you’ve read the message. 

There’s no response at all.

Just his long paragraph of feelings and the word ‘Seen’ underneath. 

His heart is beating so fast that he can feel it. The phone in his hands is starting to slip from his fingers as his body begins to heat. He throws his phone onto the seat beside him and looks for the tube of pills he always keeps for times like this; when his heart is beating in his ears and he can’t breathe properly, when the car sways around him and his hands are shaking so much. 

Did you look annoyed? Were you judging him just now? That text had been up for days now. And you clearly saw it. Were you mad at him?

It takes him five minutes to calm down and even then, he still needs to grip the steering wheel to stop trembling. His eyes are looking only straight ahead and he only looks away when he hears a tap on his window. 

Albeit the initial hesitation, he eventually rolls his window down for you.

“Hey, sorry about this but you’re kind of parked behind my car.” You say and point to the vehicle in front of him and his eyes immediately widen. Did you see him?

“O-Oh, right. I’ll move.” You stop him before he can fully roll up the window.

“Are you okay?” The years have gone by and much has changed but he can still tell when you’re trying to hide something and if he is right, you’re trying to not let your concern show. His mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out. He hasn’t been this close to you for a while. Even on the balcony that night, he stayed away because of the cigarette smoke. You smell just like how he remembered, maybe even sweeter. 

“Okay.” You sigh and leave him, still speechless. He drives his car away, trying his best not to care whether you are behind him. 

He stares at you, love oozing out of his gaze. It’s times like this when he realizes that it truly doesn’t get any better. He wants to be near you forever. 

“Do you still get shaky a lot?” You whisper and he brushes the hair away from your face.

“Honey, I told you not to worry.” You huff but the hair falls on your face anyway. 

“How can I not worry when you’re having these attacks?” He grins and kisses your nose. 

“I promise I’m alright.” He isn’t lying. His tremors have pretty much disappeared ever since you forced him to see someone about it. 

“I’ll know if you’re hiding something.” You say and he lifts his cheek off the table and pulls you onto him. 

“What about you, hm? Do you still cry a lot?” He asks and you shrug.

“So I can’t lie but you can?” He asks and you purse your lips. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You hop to face him but he just shakes his head.

“What happened?” He murmurs, searching her face for answers.

“Same old, same old.” She sighs and falls back onto him. “I don’t really want to spend time talking about it when I’m with you.” He hesitates putting his arms around you at first but then you pull them to wrap around you anyway. He bites down on his lip, trying to think of the best way to question you. You never want to talk about what happens at home, saying it’s a waste. He never really sees the way you are when things at home get bad. You always seem to keep a smile up when he’s around. And as much as he loves your smile, he wishes you would let your guard down a bit. 

“I can hear you thinking.”

“I just,” He pauses but your eyes tell him to go on. “I’m here for you, you know.” You peel yourself away from him and he suddenly feels like he’s said the wrong thing. You sigh and he thinks you’re about to leave.

“I know.” You say but he doesn’t feel the calm settle in yet. “There’s just so much that goes on at home.” You look into him. “I don’t any of that to interrupt us.” He sighs and wraps his arms around you, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. 

The two of you have always been each others’ other half. Your excitement for anything adds to the tranquility of his life and his peace adds to your chaos. He needs you to make his life more than just what it is and you need him to make your life hurt less.

Maybe that’s why it is so hard to push you to talk to him. 

Maybe that’s why it had to end.

He has grown used to the uncomfortable feeling when he sits here. Every time he came home, he would spend hours here, sitting and watching the people that passed by. While he doesn’t read, he does like sipping on his drink slowly. 

When the both of you broke up, he would come here as much as he could. There was a time you were here at the time he had come. You were sitting with your knees up to your chest and you were staring at your phone. He wasn’t able to look at what exactly was on it but you seemed somber. He watched you sit in silence, cradling yourself. 

He thought about going up to you that day. He thought about explaining his circumstances to you and telling you that it wasn’t because he wanted to leave. He wanted you to hear him out and understand him. 

But as he watched you sitting at the same spot the both of you used to spend your days in, waiting for whatever it was on your phone, all he could think about was how selfish it was for him to clear his name. 

His treatment towards you had been nothing short of terrible. Why should he be given the chance of forgiveness? 

He is sitting on the same chair you sat on that day, somehow hoping that he can still feel your warmth. He waits until he finishes his coffee and he finally leaves. 

Although he can grow used to the uneasiness of not being with you, he cannot feel the same with these busy roads he is about to cross. The music in his ears usually helps but his phone has died so his ears are stuck listening to the blaring all around him. 

When it all blends together, he doesn’t even realize the car that is speeding towards him. 

However, he doesn’t feel it. 

Is that what it’s supposed to feel like? There’s no impact or pain, just a dark vignette around his vision that seems to be taking over his entire vision. 

You rarely show up in his dreams and when you do, it’s usually a sign that he needs to start getting busy again. He would do anything to stop thinking about you. He reckons it’s the regret but it doesn’t matter. Whatever it was, it created a heavy weight on his chest whenever you came to mind. 

“Are you alright?” You ask. He thinks it might be part of his dream, or whatever this is. After all, the light shining behind you gives you an angelic look so he must be dreaming. 

“Can someone get some help?” You almost yell, something you don’t usually do in his dreams. To be fair, you rarely ever speak when you face him, dream or not. He widens one eye, adjusting to the setting sun behind you slowly. For a moment, he sees it. Your eyebrows still furrowed in concern, your lower lip still chewed on, as you usually do when you are worried. 

“Are you real?” He murmurs softly. Without thought, his hand goes up to touch your face, praying you won’t fade away. When you don’t, he presses his palm onto your cheek and lets it stay there. He doesn’t care about what comes after, whether you swat his hand away, or never get near him again, he just wants to hold you for a bit longer. 

It’s been two weeks since he was cleared from the hospital.

So, sitting across from you here must not be a delusion. 

He takes another sip of his water and looks down at the glass. One of his arms is in a cast and there’s a bit of pain here and there but it’s nothing too bad. You’ve asked about his condition and he has talked extensively about what the doctor said. 

The silence is back and he wonders why you asked to meet in the first place. It’s only a few more seconds until he eventually speaks up.

“Why did you want to meet?” You look surprised as if you didn’t expect him to ever ask.

“Uh,” You tuck your hair behind your ears and sigh. “I wanted to just check on you.”

“That’s it?” He asked. He wasn’t sure if it came out as if he was offended or angry, but either way, he was desperate. 

“What do you mean, that’s it?” You scowl. 

“That’s really all you wanted to know?” He tries his best to keep his voice down but the disdained look on his face is enough to make the concern drain from your face.

“Whatever, this was a mistake.” You scoff and stand up. He is about to let you leave when he suddenly blurts out your name, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m sorry.” He exhales to maintain his composure. “Let’s talk.” You look at him for a moment, seemingly deciding whether or not to re-take your seat. When you finally do, he takes another deep breath and places his hands on the table. He’s shaking terribly but he doesn’t want to hide it anymore. 

“I never really…” He clenches his fists. “I never really explained what happened.”

“I know why.” You say softly.

“Have you been mad at me all this time?” He asks, waiting for you to look at him. 

“I don’t know if I have that right.” You say but you don’t raise your head. “We were just kids. I think we needed each other too much.” 

He heard once that love was calm and adequate, and if you don’t know what that meant, you hadn’t found it. He knew what he had with you was different. It was the type of devotion that magnets had. He always thought that at the end of the day, you would always find your way back to each other. Some would say the type of passion he had for you was excessive but he thought it was just the feeling of being alive. 

You were the live wire that electrified his days, a firework that shattered into the thousands of pieces that he would always pick up. He didn’t mind being your glue. He didn’t care that you were each other’s half. To him, that was the definition of love. It meant completing the other.

Perhaps that is why he hadn’t felt the same with anyone else.

“I didn’t know you still visited our spot.” You say and he is pulled back to the present.

“I can say the same for you.” 

“Only sometimes.” You sigh. “When I’m feeling lonely.”

He keeps his eyes on you. Your body is slouched and the look on your face speaks of embarrassment, as if you are guilty of still thinking of him. He holds his breath along with the words tempted to roll off his tongue. 

The question he thinks you might be thinking of too. But he quickly says something else.

“Why were you at the hospital?” You stay silent for a while. 

“I needed a check-up.” You sounded nervous. “Because I’m leaving soon.”

He gulps.

“Oh-”

“I don’t know why I felt like I should tell you.” You sigh. “I think just seeing you in the hospital brought back a lot of unnecessary feelings and I felt like I owed you some sort of explanation.” A short laugh comes out. “I don’t know! I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You drag a hand down your face, making your smile lopsided.

He still can’t say anything. He should be happy for you. You are finally moving to be your own person, something you have dreamed of since you were together. But all he feels is still fluttering in his stomach which makes him want to vomit everything he has eaten that day. 

He wants to cry, he wants to sob into his arms and beg you to stay. He wants to tell you he will follow you. He wants to buy a ticket to not lose you again. 

“I know this is sudden and weird. Maybe,” You breathe out, finally meeting his eyes and he finally sees the streaks down your cheeks.

“Maybe I just needed to see you one more time to close it all, you know.” You say softly. He doesn’t nod, or deny, or say anything at all. He can’t move. 

“I hope your tremors aren’t so bad now.” You say but he still doesn’t move. His mind yells at him to even blink, just so you don’t know he broke from hearing the news.

“T-Thanks.” He stammers and you nod slowly. “When are you leaving?” He can’t bear to hear how far away you will be.

“In a week.”

He bows his head and stays like that for a while. You thank him for meeting you and leave him, in the same place you left him all those years ago. It’s a deja vu moment, where he can feel the same fibers in his body fighting to reach out for you. 

But all he does is clench his fists and let you leave. 

Again.

a/n: i had to repost this because i remembered that it was an answer to a question. i was more nostalgic when i wrote the first part so i hope i kept it up this time without having to fall back into that hole. i hope you enjoyed!

[sweethartlullaby]

you, among the art ix

word count: 807 genre/theme: fluff and angst, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing songs: could you love me while i hate myself - zeph as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

He briskly walks down the hallway. The wave of students has gone but he will not want to be caught in the middle of it all when classes end. 

The ring on his finger still feels strange, somehow heavy. They agreed to not take sculpting away from him, something he is forever grateful for. His wife stays at home, waiting for him to come back each night. 

On the other hand, she hasn’t written back to him for almost a year now. The last time he wrote back, he wished her well and the best of health. He learned to let it go after a while but he cannot admit that the hole has gone. 

As he turns, he catches something in the corner of his eye. 

At first, he thinks it’s a mistake. Why would she be here? And when he turns, he realizes that it was not a complete mistake. It’s a portrait of her and she looks exactly the way she did when she left. 

He gets closer and reading the name seals it for him. He reads her description and can’t stop the smile that makes its way to his face. She truly made a name for herself. He only feels the urge to stop when he reaches that part. 

Unfortunately, her life was taken away in a car accident this May. She was on her way back to this university. When she was found, she was holding onto a scarf. 

He looks at the items below the description and he instantly recognizes the scarf. It looks dirtier than when he first gave it to her and he can see the spots of blood on the fabric.

He suddenly can’t feel his fingers or his face. In times like this, shouldn’t his heart be beating in his ears? Shouldn’t he feel like he is dreaming, because isn’t this what it is? Isn’t this a dream? Isn’t this something she had just done to joke on him? Isn’t this a lie?

His ring feels light now. His whole body does. 

The woman in the picture no longer feels familiar. It must be someone else because she isn’t gone. Her picture is above the wrong description. They must have confused her with someone else. He looks around frantically, gripping the handle of his bag even tighter. There are even more pictures, her with Madame Aki, her in more galas, her on stage during her final project presentation, wearing the same damn smile in all.

When he feels that all pairs of her eyes are on him, he runs out to his office, pushing past people as he struggles to breathe. The silence of his space is deafening and sudden. It feels as if all the air has been sucked out of his lungs. Everything around him has stopped and the only movement he can make is his collapse onto the ground. 

The breaths he takes are shallow and when he finally feels something, it’s the tightness in his chest. His hand clutches the fabric above his heart which he hopes will give him some air. When he finds it, he starts to cry. 

Watching her felt like the sun finally decided to look at him. It was as if the heavens had congratulated him on not drawing that blade across his wrist last night. She was electric and she spoke with such determination, that he felt it in his bones. He was overflowing with joy and it had come out as a laugh instead. He had embarrassed himself in front of his colleagues but worse of all, she was frozen. 

When he wrote her his apology letter, he prayed that she would accept his proposition. So when she did, he kept thanking the gods. He promised himself to give her only the best. Falling for her was simply something that happened along the way. 

And he fell hard. It wasn’t as if he had never liked someone before but this was something beyond it. Suddenly, he wanted to protect her. He wanted more than the best for her. He knew he had someone waiting for him. He knew he had a life beyond being her supervisor but that was all that he wanted to do. 

He had a dilemma that day when she received that letter from Madame Aki. He debated abandoning everything and moving. There was art in Japan, someone of his fame wouldn’t be destitute. He needed a sign and he never got one.

So now, he sits in his empty office, hearing the echoes of her laughter ring. He cradles his head in his hands, the ring burning against his scalp as he thinks about how she was on her way back to him. Could he have said it then?

And I would have followed you to the ends of the earth.

a/n: and we are done! thank you so much again for reading. i might add the previous and next parts soon but please refer to the masterlist in the meantime! this was much more dramatic in my head and i wanted it to literally rip hearts out (so please let me know if this had any effect on you hihi) i think something i ended up doing differently than planned was having nine chapters instead of ten. at first it was just because i combined some chapters but i realized it ended well. i thought of it as they never really got to reach 10, never really got to finish their story and so it ends at 9. it's going to forever be incomplete because that was taken away from them. that is just my reason for it but you're free to interpret it however! i hope you have enjoyed this series and i thank you for your unending patience. thank you and i apologize for any mistakes!

[sweethartlullaby]

you, among the art viii

word count: 1219 genre/theme: fluff and angst, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing songs: chemtrails over the country club - lana del rey as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part ix here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

He watches as her parents hug her and fix her clothes. Her mother is teary-eyed and her father is beaming with pride. When she finally spots him, he walks over and puts his best grin on. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Scared.” She says it hushedly as if she’s afraid her parents will hear. He lets out a breathe and steps closer before he wraps it around her neck, making sure not to choke her. When he brings the hood up to her head, he notices the shine in her eyes. He has to stop it from bringing his own tears out.

Maybe it’s the pride of seeing his student go but it’s most probably because he realizes that he will miss her forever. 

“It can get really cold in Japan. I just want you to keep warm.” He says softly and she bows her head. He chews down on his lip, deciding if he should pull her in for a hug. But his hand settles on her shoulder and he strokes it with the pad of his thumb.

“I never got my sign.” She chuckles, looking back up at him.

“That itself is a sign then.” He smiles down at her. He has wondered about all the possibilities, from different animals to the weather to maybe even something from him. Before he came home that day, he had decided that he was going to make a move, confess, or whatever stupid thing his mouth decided to do. But then he found the letter and everything flew out of the window. He probably spent about ten minutes avoiding his home, doing anything to elude his feelings. He had selfish thoughts, ones that he knew he could never forgive himself for. 

He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know that she has made him feel something no one ever has. But when he saw her face light up after reading the letter, he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t say the one thing she might have wanted to hear but also might lead to her ruin. She’s a bright student and a lovelier person. The path she has ahead of her isn’t something she should have to second-guess because of him. Not to mention the woman who is waiting for him. If he should have the privilege of loving her, he wants it to be right. 

Not something his irrational desire spits out.

He can’t be the thing that holds her back. The hatred he has for himself will only grow into something unbearable. It isn’t fair. 

Nothing usually is.

“You should probably head back to your parents.”

“Will you stay to watch me leave?” She says and she sounds like she’s teasing. So he pretends to think about it and looks at his watch. “I don’t know, I think my chauffeur is coming to pick me up for my evening gala soon.” 

“I thought you hated galas.” She raised an eyebrow with a smile on her face. 

“I don’t know, someone made them a bit more bearable.” He says and sees the red blossom in her cheeks.

“You’ve become quite the jokester, professor.” 

“And you’ve become less noisy too.” He says and she scoffs. “I’m kidding, you also turned out to be softer than I initially thought you were.” The corners of her lips turn down a little as she looks back at her family.

“I’ll be here.” He assures her. She hesitates for a bit and then nods before she turns to head back to them. “Thank you, for the scarf and for taking me in. I’ll write you.” He nods and watches her leave. He holds onto the car keys or anything else to stop him from blurting out the words he wants to say the most.

The walk back to his car seems to take forever. A thin layer of snow has covered the ground and a print is left behind with each step he makes. He doesn’t cry because he doesn’t feel that he should. After all, it is just another night. It’s just another dinner by himself. It’s just another night of reading before bed. The moon shines the same and the neighbourhood is quiet all the same. Nothing has changed and yet something still feels different.

Perhaps her presence brought more to the air that he breathed. Nevertheless, it’s nothing special when she had simply brought more to everything about him. 

Hello, 

It is just as you said. Japan is cold and the winds are cruel to me. Madame Aki is not too different from you. Stone-faced, accurate, and explicit about whatever it is that she needs. Working with her has been great but I do miss our university. I hope you’re well too. I think you will like these small prints I found. 

How are you?

I really enjoy reading your letters. It’s nice to hear from someone from back home. My parents said they would be visiting me soon. I have so many places to show them. I’ve also notified them of the gifts they’ll be giving to you on my behalf. Be prepared! Oh, and they told me they had made a few prints of the photos we took before I left. I figured it would brighten your walls a little. The awards are shiny and all but add a little warmth will you, professor?

I miss everything.

I miss rushing in the halls to make it in time for classes. I miss playing in the snow with my friend and the small dinners we had when we got so busy. I always wanted to leave for a better future but I feel so empty now. What should I do? What did you do when you got homesick? Should I be regretting leaving; should I have stayed? Please lend some wisdom to your (hopefully) dear student.

It’s been a while.

Madame Aki left for a trip and I’ve been taking care of things in her stead. Managing a museum is much more fun than I thought it to be. The late nights I spend working on projects have been exhausting. I suppose I never really realized it because I was always with you. I hope the students haven’t been too much lately; I know how drained you can get. It’s a little mind-blowing that I’ve been here for almost six months. It feels like it has been forever. Please keep writing to me, I love reading your words.

I know it’s a waste to dwell on the past.

But I keep wondering what my life would be like if I got my sign. I made it harder to get so that if it did happen, it was by the force of nature. It wouldn’t have been me. I wonder if you have had any dilemmas lately; if you’ve needed any signs lately.

The sun is leaving us once again. 

Have you received your new student? How are they? Have you told them the high expectations you hold for them? Have they run away yet? Are they better than me? There is only one right answer. I hope they haven’t been insufferable and tried to escape. If all goes well, I suppose you won’t need to tell them not to go, just like you didn’t have to with me.

a/n: *cheeky laugh* did you notice it? (psst, she's talking about the bolded and strikethrough-ed words in the letters) sad that tumblr doesn't have a underline option

[sweethartlullaby]

you, among the art vii

word count: 1151 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part viii here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

Her bedsheets feel softer than usual. And when she sits up, her room looks different. She only realizes why when she goes out and sees the familiar wall of awards. Her head is pounding with every step she takes and even the far away sound of honking irritates her. 

When she catches sight of the bowl of soup, she steps towards it slowly, trying her best to not make the headache worse than it already is. Once she takes a sip, she already feels it clearing. 

Of course he’s a decent cook too.

She thinks back to last night, struggling to remember what happened. She recalls talking about her family and hearing about his. Even so, everything is a blur afterwards. She can only hope she didn’t say anything too embarrassing. 

After finishing the soup, she takes a quick shower and changes into the pile of clothes he laid out for her. He must be at the store and she doesn’t feel right to just leave without saying anything. So she waits, snooping around and finding books with colourful tabs, trying to decipher the meaning of each. She cleans the bedroom as best as she can; it’s the least she can do. When she sweeps under the shelves, a blade slides out. It must have been hidden for a while since it’s so dirty. She sees a few stains but they’re too dark to make out. 

Before she can think any further, she hears the door click open so she stuffs it into a pocket from last night’s clothes and goes out. 

“Hey, you’re awake.” He says as he takes his shoes off and hangs his scarf.

“Thank you for the soup.” She smiles at him and he returns it.

“How long have you been up?” He moves to put his things in the places they should be in. 

“Not long, I did some cleaning and-”

“You did what?” He chokes on a cup of water.

“I didn’t mean to pry. I just-” He laughs and shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t have. You’re a guest.” He walks to the couch, inviting her to sit with him.

“Well, you didn’t give me much to do. Where’d you go, anyway?” His eyes widen and he immediately gets back up before rushing to his coat and bringing back an envelope with him.

“This was in the mail this morning. I’m not expecting any so I figured it must be regarding you.” He hands it over and she stares at it. The sender reads Aki and that’s all she needs to feel her heart pound in her chest.

“No, I can’t. It must be a rejection letter.” He takes a seat and raises an eyebrow.

“There’s nothing for her to reject.”

“No, she must be writing to tell me that she has given the opportunity of being her apprentice to someone else. It must be that!” He is looking at her with disbelief but it doesn’t seem so impossible to her.

“I cannot open it. I will simply live in oblivion for the rest of my days.” She crosses her arms, falling onto her back.

“I won’t allow it.” He does the same. 

“You can’t make me.”

“I’ll read it out loud then.” He tears the envelope and she immediately reaches for it. Even though he initially raises it beyond her reach, she eventually gets ahold of it. Nevertheless. when it’s in her hands, she hesitates again. 

“Oh for heaven’s sake, please open it!” He pleads and she eventually takes the slip of paper out. With shaky hands, her eyes scan the words. After a few moments of silence, she feels her eyes water and she looks up at him, joy erupting within her.

“I know this will be my second time saying it within 48 hours but…I told you so.” He says and she laughs, throwing her arms around him. He gives her a tight squeeze and sighs. She’s too happy to realize what she’s doing.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

“This was all you, there’s no need to thank me.” He says back but she just buries herself in his neck even more. “You’ve always been amazing.” He murmurs and she smiles to herself.

“Does this mean you’ll be moving to Japan?” He asks after a few moments of silence and she finally pulls away, looking down at the letter.

“Yeah, I think so.” She says and there’s a little pang of sadness when she says it. She’s always wanted to travel. She has always thought of the steps ahead and nothing has changed…not much has changed. But she feels a little hesitant and she knows why. 

She can say it’s the university, or how she has gotten accustomed to the place, or the food, or anything but she knows it’s no use to fool herself into thinking it’s not him. She cannot reject such an offer for such uncertainty but there’s a strong urge to stay. She wants to be close to him, as much as possible. 

He would think that it’s stupid. He would say it’s ridiculous to give up on her dream for something she cannot comprehend. He would call her foolish and that would be all she needed to move on. 

But if that is so true, why is she so afraid to ask him to reassure her? Is it because he strokes her head a little too softly? Is it because he lets her hug him even when thirty seconds have passed?

“Are you alright?” His soft voice pulls her out of her thoughts and she nods as enthusiastically as she can. 

“Just…” Her eyes shift towards his. He softens his gaze as if he understands what she is worried about. “Taken aback.” She says. He nods slowly and reaches out to hold her hand. The warmth of his fingers on hers makes it even harder to not give in. 

“This is a huge step but I’m sure you know what’s best for yourself.” She looks at their joined hands because she knows if she looks at him, she’ll burst into tears.

“I don’t know what I want.”

“You’ve dreamed of this for the longest time, right? It doesn’t make sense to give all that up now.” He says the last part like he’s talking to both of them. 

“What if it’s a mistake?” She whispers, her voice cracking. He chuckles and pulls her into him. 

“When I’m in a dilemma, I wait for a sign.” His chest vibrates with each word he says. “When I get that sign, I make my decision.” 

“Does it work?” She laughs into him.

“Most times it does.” He says and she sighs. 

“Make your sign now and if it doesn’t happen before you have to leave, then you’re going.” She thinks about it for a second and then she nods. 

As if he knows what it is, he pulls her in tighter.

a/n: we are nearing the end! writing this has been a bit difficult since it is longer than any usual work i do but i think i would do it again if i come up with another idea.

[sweethartlullaby]

you, among the art vi

word count: 1269 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part vii here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

She looks as nervous as he feels. She was great in there but he can’t get rid of the swirling in his stomach. However, nerves aren’t unusual after presenting your final project. 

The very one that determines the path you might take after graduation. 

“What if they didn’t like it?” She asks for the hundredth time. He pushes himself off the wall and places his hands on her shoulders, stopping her pacing.

“I’m sure they did. You did great, okay?” He tries to crack a smile and she lets out a heavy breath, pressing a palm to her forehead. This isn’t a first for him, seeing his graduating student in distress. However, watching her in distress makes him wish that he could go in there and rush his colleagues.

“I’m sure it will be fine.” He bends down to meet her eyes and although the doubt is heavily weighing on them, she nods anyway. Just as he straightens his back, she pulls his body onto hers. His eyes quickly dart around, making sure no one is looking.

“Someone is going to-”

“Just for thirty seconds. Just to stop shaking.” She murmurs as she buries her head into his chest. He’s a precise person. However, even when he knows the thirty seconds have passed, he lets her hold him anyway and he runs his palm up and down her back slowly. When she finally pulls away, he feels cold.

“Thank you.” He grins down at her. 

They wait for about five more minutes until someone steps out and invites her back in. The applause from inside the room is all he needs to feel the rush of relief. She comes out with the biggest smile she has ever worn and all he says is “I told you so.”

“Is that what people really think of me?” He furrows his eyebrows but his smile denies any anger.

“Yes! People are so afraid of you and they were warning me about asking you to be my supervisor.” She takes another swig of her drink. Even with the warm light illuminating the room, her rosy pink cheeks still shine through. “Didn’t you make your previous student cry?”

“In my defense,” He places a hand on his chest. “She was not taking her project seriously at all.” She laughs. 

“I’m so,” She breathes out and throws her head back. “I’m so relieved it’s over.” She says and he smiles at her. Perhaps it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the snow outside that’s making her look even more beautiful than she needs to be to make his heart skip a beat. 

When he saw her on that date, all he felt was this crushing feeling. He knew they would have never worked, not as long as they were still working together. But seeing her with someone else made it feel real. It seemed like there was truly no way out of this besides to erase her from his mind. 

But he’s sitting beside her now and all he can think about is reaching for her hand, grabbing her face to press his lips against hers, tucking her hair behind her cheeks, and feeling the warmth of her skin against his. All he wants with her is to be closer. 

“I don’t know if I can ask this but,” She swallows. “Your dad mentioned a fiance at the gala.” His thoughts stop and he feels the air still. She must have noticed the change in his demeanor because she hesitates. 

“Go on.” He assures her.

“Well, you never mentioned having one. And I mean, if you do, why are you here?” She asks slowly and he takes another sip of his wine.

“I told him that if I were to get married, it would be after I am done with my work. He promised me seven more years.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Five and a half years ago.” He says and the silence that follows carves a hole into his heart. To him, his work was his life. He didn’t want anything else. He didn’t feel enough love to understand it. An arranged marriage was a way to save his family from him. He sees it as an obligation and nothing else. Everything has a purpose. Love isn’t a purpose. It isn’t a reason to stop yourself from going to greater heights. 

At least, that’s what he used to think.

He believes that she is the reason for the change of his mind. She almost makes him believe that it can be purposeful, that to burn for someone can mean something more than delirious passion. She’s his breath of fresh air. It feels as if she was the hand that saved him that night, the one that pulled him from the water. He doesn’t know if it’s love, it’s too soon to tell. But he feels it, he feels the urge to abandon everything that is his name just to be with her. He feels the battle against his rules. 

“Have you at least spoken to her? Your fiance, I mean.” He nods.

“We met when it was decided all those years ago.” 

“Was she at least mean?” He laughs and shakes his head. 

“She was one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” She nods slowly, pursing her lips. They keep drinking and she talks about her own life. As an only child, her parents have always been supportive of what she wants to do. She was always hesitant about taking a career in art but it was her father that pushed her to do it. She says they give her so much to look forward to in life.

As the night gets later and the number of bottles on the table increases, her cheeks get redder and her words slur more. Even though he drinks slower, he can still start to feel the room sway. All the while, he watches as she gets even more excited after a few drinks. She talks about the ridiculous things that happened in her years at university, her friend, the stupid date she wishes she never went on, and the times she truly felt passionate about her work, one of them being when she started working with him. 

“You made me love sculpting even more and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I do have a tendency to prove people wrong.” He chuckles but she stays silent. Her eyes shift uneasily as she stares at him. She moves and takes a seat closer to him in the booth. 

“Can you prove me wrong again?” She whispers and the blush in her cheeks makes her undeniable.

“What is it?” He murmurs, brushing her hair away from her face.

“Tell me this won’t work.” Her eyes start to water. 

“What won’t work?” He leans back, not taking his eyes off her. She doesn’t say anything and just collapses onto him, nesting her face in the space between his neck and collarbone.

“Another thirty seconds?” He murmurs, stroking her hair.

“Longer.” 

“One minute?”

“Longer.”

“All night?”

“Longer.” He laughs a little and leans his cheek on the top of her head. 

“You’re a wonder, you know that?” He whispers. She is silent for a while and then he feels her speak into his chest.

“Don’t confuse me. I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me.” His hand stops and everything pauses. The words on the tip of his tongue can’t come out either. When he finally exhales again, he purses his lips to stop himself. 

As much as he wants to, he can’t bring himself to say it. 

Not now.

a/n: yipee ka yay! i'd love to hear who you have been imagining this whole time

[sweethartlullaby]

you, among the art v

word count: 1440 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part vi here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

“You’re in deep.”

“No.”

“You almost kissed him.”

“We were just trying to stay warm!”

“By joining lips?” Her friend raises an eyebrow. After telling her, she knew there was no way to face it besides for what it was. She stands from her seat, pacing behind the chair as she pushes her hair back in distress.

“I can’t like him.” She whispers to herself. “No, no, he’s cold and he’s my supervisor, oh my God he’s my supervisor. The ethics!” She exclaims as her arms flail above her head.

“The ethics…” Her friend repeats but she looks as if she couldn’t care less. She returns to her seat, biting on the pad of her thumb as she tries to sort herself out. She can’t avoid him forever. She will just have to convince herself that there is nothing to like about him.

Yes, that will simply have to work. 

“Why don’t you go out with one of my desperate friends?” She stops chewing and raises an eyebrow. 

“There’s tons of people that like you. You can easily forget about him if you’re sleeping with someone else.” She sighs and looks down at her bruised finger. 

She thinks about it for a moment. These desperate friends of hers don’t usually have a good reputation. But surely, there’s no harm in trying…right?

“Fine,” She looks up and crosses her arms. “I’ll try one date.”

She wishes she could fake an emergency. Maybe a fall on the way to the bathroom, or something to do with her project. Anything that gives her escape from this horrid date.

He’s a handsome man but the words that come out of his mouth immediately spoil all that is good. In the thirty minutes they have been sitting at this table, he has questioned her more than she has ever done to herself.

“Why art?”

“So, you must be really confident in your skills.”

“I’m sure a doll like you could do other things.”

The fake smile has gone by now and all she wants to do is look uninterested enough for him to leave on his own. But he hasn’t stopped speaking about his own interests and each time she thinks it’s the end, he somehow returns back to how he feels about it. 

It’s funny. She agreed to go on this date so she would stop thinking about him but as she drowns her date’s voice away, all she finds herself dreaming about is him. Fact, she wishes he would walk through the door and save her from this.

“...bill?”

“Sorry?” She turns back to him.

“Could we split the bill?” She scoffs and throws the napkin at him before she stands to walk away. 

As she pushes through the doors, greeted by the icy winds of December, she reminds herself that sometimes, there is harm in trying. 

She takes a deep breath and knocks on his door twice. He missed class today, which meant she had to improvise her way through the one hour she was stuck in that room. It also meant she might give him an earful for the lack of warning. 

As she waits, her mind wanders back to the gala. As much as she doesn’t want to, she can’t help but reimagine that moment. He smelled like fall and she swore she could make out the hint of clay when she took a breath so close to him. He was such a great dancer too and…

His father and the mention of a fiance.

It tugs at her heart a little when she thinks of the fact that he has someone waiting for him at home. The kiss they almost shared must have been a mistake then. She slides her free palm down her skirt, only pretending to smooth it down. In the other hand, she holds a bowl of soup. As much as she wants to appear irritated, her concern for him is greater. She figured it must have been something serious for him to leave her on her own.

Anyone would have done the same for their supervisor. It’s just being nice.

She sighs and raises her knuckles to knock again, when it swings open, revealing a very revealed supervisor standing at the doorframe. His large shirt is buttoned wrongly and it starts with the last three buttons, leaving his torso peeking at her as it drapes against his back. 

She doesn’t realize her mouth has been hanging open until she speaks.

“Uh,” She tears her eyes away from his body and looks at him. Yet, her heart doesn’t stop rapidly beating in her chest.  “You didn’t show up today.”

He straightens his back and buttons the rest of his shirt.

“R-Right, I’m so sorry about that.” The both of them stand there in silence for a moment.

“I thought you were sick so I brought some soup.” She raises it, hoping her smile breaks this tension. 

“Oh,” His eyes soften and he returns a small smile before he steps to the side and invites her in. 

“Let me just get dressed.” He calls out as she places the bowl on his counter, unwrapping it so that it’s ready for him. When she pulls her hands away from the bowl, she finally feels the warmth in her cheeks. Even with her primed fingers, she still feels the heat on her face.

With a shake of her head, she grabs a cup of water and chugs it, hoping it provides some relief to her embarrassed soul. Her eyes dart around the room, hoping something will take her mind off of the image of his body, his lips, his face, his voice.

A twinkle catches her from the corner of her eye and she turns to see a pile of medals hanging by the window. She scoffs a little as she sifts through them. Shouldn’t such precious things be kept in a safer place?

They date even farther back the more she goes through; ranging from awards for the Best Stability in a project to the Best Design. His certificates only add to his longstanding reputation. His walls are adorned with the plaques that make up his prestige. She stares at each, her inspiration increasing with each one. 

“Where’d you get this soup?” She turns and he has poured it into two bowls. 

“Just a corner store near where I live.” She says as she takes a seat next to him. He takes a sip and nods slowly and although it’s nothing, her heart swells as he approves.

“So, you are sick?” She asks as she holds the bowl in her hands. He pauses before he chuckles a little and leans back on the couch, throwing a hand over his eyes. 

“No, I drank a little too much last night.” He says but with the smile on his face, she feels no remorse.

“I had to teach alone because of you.” He lifts his hand to peek at her before he sits up and looks at her. 

“It’s great practice if you ever want to be a professor.”

“Well I don’t, I’m going to make great work so museums pay to have my work displayed.” She scoffs but he just laughs. “You don’t think that’s going to happen?” He shakes his head and sighs, eyes finally settling on hers; the way they did that night. 

“I’m sure museums would pay fortunes to have your work.” He says it with such delicacy and faith that she feels it in her bones. She smiles but he doesn’t look away and for some reason, she can’t either. 

Is he going to…

She tries to tear herself away but before she has the chance to do so, he reaches and tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear. A sharp breath makes its way into her lungs when his fingers slightly brush against her cheek. 

“W-Why’d you get drunk last night?” She clears her throat, finally able to look down. It’s mostly to hide her blushing cheeks. 

“I felt a bit hopeless.” At this, she looks up at him again. He must be able to sense the concern just from her face because he shrugs.

“Relax, I’m alright. I just needed a drink to get my mind off of things.” When she hears him grab the bowl, she looks up at him again. 

“Guess we both had a rough night.” She chuckles and leans back with him, staring at the ceiling above them.

“What happened with you?” He murmurs.

“Just a stupid date I should have never gone on.” She says and turns to look at him. 

To her surprise, he’s smiling.

a/n: yay, she updated! okay so i know i said i would try to get it all out before the end of the year but i got really depressed about my finals so it's a little late (oops, sorry). to make it up to you, i have finished writing it and i will be uploading all of it tonight! thank you so much for your support and i will be getting to your requests soon!

[sweethartlullaby]

you, among the art iv

word count: 1760 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part v here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

He looks at the ticket again and a groan leaves his throat. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks and he shakes his head as he slips it under his notebook.

“It’s nothing.” He shrugs before standing from his desk. 

“That’s what people say when it’s definitely something.” She scoffs before she walks over and in one swift move, she pulls out the ticket. 

“A gala?” She reads before he gets the chance to snatch it back from her. He sighs and rolls his sleeves back up as he sits back down on his desk.

“Yes, but I hate those.” She turns to him and raises an eyebrow.

“It’s just an excuse for the faculty to not do their work.” He says and she just rolls her eyes at him. 

“I bet you’re great at parties.”

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t go.” He smiles but she starts shaking her head. “Says here you can take a plus one.” That’s the tone of her voice when she is about to suggest something she knows he won’t agree with.

“Well?” Her eyes sparkle as she asks. It takes him a second to realize what she’s implying. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, we have to work on your project.”

“It’s just one night!” She begs, moving to face him. She juts her lower lip out and he can’t help but chuckle. 

“We’re staying for one hour and that’s it.”

“But what about dancing?” He crosses his arms and looks down at her, holding her gaze for a few seconds. He scoffs when she finally looks away. 

“I don’t know how to dance.” He shrugs, stretching his arms above him.

“Then I’ll teach you!”

“Why do I need to know how to dance?” He tilts his head as his arms fold in front of his chest again. 

“Because…” She chews down on her lip as she thinks about it and his heart skips a beat.

“Because it’s just what is done! I’ll stay late if you dance with me, even if it’s just once.” She pleads, joining her hands in front of him. He looks at her fingers, intertwined with each other, and laughs.

“Fine, one dance, and then we’re leaving.”

He feels as though he can’t breathe.

The ballroom does have its contributions but he’s certain it’s the suit. He pulls at the collar and gulps. There are just so many people.

“Here,” She returns with a small plate of cakes. “I got as much as I could.” He looks at her mumbling to herself about the delicacies and smiles a little. 

“No wonder you were gone for so long.” He says before he takes a sip of his drink.

“Is that alcohol?”

“No, it’s colored water.” He says and she scowls at him. 

“For someone who always looks so tense, you are surprisingly a very sarcastic man.”

“Only when I want to be.” 

“And I’m supposed to be flattered that you chose me to be your victim?” She asks before taking another bite of the tart. Before he can answer, he hears someone clear their throat next to them. He feels his heart drop as he speaks.

“Son.” 

He takes a sharp breath in before he turns to his father and he shows the most polite smile he can muster.

“Father.” He feels as though the entire room has turned their attention towards them, silent yet watchful, like watching a prey.

“I thought you weren’t a party person.”

“I’m not.” He’s trying his best to not sneer at him. “I just…thought I’d try it one time.”

His father doesn’t respond, but instead looks at her, the girl standing so close to his body, it was no mistake that they knew each other. Before he even asks, she introduces herself, bending her body over just a bit. 

“He’s my supervisor for my graduating project. It’s nice to meet you.” He had never seen her so nervous before.

“I see, it’s nice to meet you too.” His father says promptly and then turns back to his son. 

“If you can make time to come to this gala, I’m assuming you’ll have the time to come home this Winter. Your fiance is waiting for you.” He lied, his heart didn’t drop before but it is doing so now. One earth-shattering word is enough for him to make him crawl back inside the shell of the man he is. It’s enough for him to make him think of all of the horrible things he has desperately tried to expunge out of his brain. 

He is frozen. 

Even when his father leaves, his knuckles are still white from gripping the glass too hard. 

“Hey,” She whispers.

“Are you alright?” She asks and even though he feels freer to breathe, he still feels funny. He takes a drink and exhales. He didn’t think his father would bring it up. His fiance, how long has it been since he has heard that word? 

How long has it been since he has spoken to his father?

He turns to her and laughs a little but she only looks at him like he’s on drugs.

Of course, she would look at him like that.

“Are you-”

“We should dance.”

“But-”

“You wanted a dance, let’s dance.” Without another word, he takes her arm and leads her to the floor, leaving behind the pastries she was enjoying before his father. 

“Sir, I don’t-” He whirls her in front of him and takes her hands.

“Don’t call me that.” He whispers and leans in close to her ear. “You can call be by my name, you know.” When he pulls away, he thinks her cheeks are redder.

The music starts and they begin. He’s always been a quick learner. As they glide across the marble floor, she constantly smiles and raises her eyebrows, impressed that he knows how to do thi albeit their short practice session.

He can’t stop looking at her. Even though she keeps avoiding his gaze, all he does is look at her. He notices all the small things he usually doesn’t. For one, the small curl in her hair, resting on her cheek. Another is the way her cheeks are redder than before, and she hasn’t gone to the bathroom to reapply anything. He leans in and breathes in her scent. She smells of the ocean back home. 

“Are you having fun?” She whispers before he spins her and he laughs in her ear.

“I think it might be the alcohol, but this dancing is making me feel good.” He mutters. She squeezes the hand in hers.

“You look really beautiful tonight, by the way.” The alcohol is consuming him. When she pulls back and smiles at him, he has to stop himself from pushing his lips onto hers.

“You look quite dashing yourself, si-” She stops herself just in time and purses her lips into a smile.

Three minutes couldn’t have gone by quicker. After they bow, she takes his hand and pulls him to the side, away from the spotlight.

“Well, that’s one dance for you.” He smiles, a little sadly. He wishes he wasn’t so adamant on tonight. “Will you leave now?” 

He might be imaging it but she almost sounds hopeful that he isn’t. He chews down on his lip as he thinks for a moment. 

“Let me get our coats. Stay here.” He says quickly and then he immediately runs. His face must be flushed from the amount of adrenaline that’s pumping through his body right now. His hands are shaking from how excited he is. 

He yanks the coats from the hangers and runs back to her, chest heaving when he stands in the same spot and she isn’t there. 

She finally returns after about ten minutes but all he feels is the creep of anxiety dawning on him. 

“I’m so sorry I left. I thought I could take a quick bathroom break.” She reasons but he just nods, trying his best not to seem down. 

“No worries.” He passes her his coat and watches her put it on. When they walk outside, he debates saying something to break the tension. All the thrill has been washed off in the ten minutes she was gone, imagining that she left him. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” She says and he thinks it’s about them. But there’s a grin on her face when he turns to look at her.

“Alright, during my little bathroom break, I actually spoke to…” She pauses, for anticipation, he assumes.

“I spoke to the one and only Madame Aki!” He stops in his tracks, feeling as if the air has stilled around him too. 

“That’s…”

“I know! She’s basically my idol and I never expected to run into her at all! I couldn’t stop myself from going up to her. We spoke a little bit and she said she would love to keep in touch!” She almost shrieks from excitement as she jumps and waves her arms. While excitement might not be back in his system, he still grins for her.

“That’s amazing. Doesn’t she have a museum too?”

“Yes! All the way in Japan, which I think will be where I spend my summer next year.” She sings and he chuckles as they pull to a stop.

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you.” She says, eyes softening when they finally look at him. “I would’ve never gotten this opportunity if it wasn’t for you.” He shakes his head and takes a step closer to her.

“You’re the one who invited me to a dance remember?” He says softly. From this close, he can see the slight tint on her lips, cheeks, and nose. The winter air is blossoming her cheeks and he can’t imagine seeing anything more beautiful. He searches her eyes, drinking in her gaze as he steadies himself. His fingers brush the hair away from her face and he tries his best to stop leaning in. 

This can’t happen.

As much as he wants it to, it can’t happen. 

His breathing is heavier and she’s not pulling away. Is this consensus? Is this a yes? His eyes move down to her soft lips, inches away from his.

“Hey!” A child nearby yells and he immediately pulls away, just realizing how close they had been. A group of children run by and he blows out a breath. She clears her throat and they stand in silence for a moment. 

“Your car is close by right?” She suddenly speaks up and his words tumble out of his mouth.

“Y-Yes, I’ll drive you home. Come.”

a/n: finally!! part iv is out! i've been struggling to find the will to write lately but i'll try to keep at it as much as possible. thank you for reading and i apologize for any mistakes! i'll try to get the rest out asap so readers don't really have to wait. thank you again!

[sweethartlullaby]

17 again with you

word count: 2042 genre/theme: angst, young love songs: say don't go by taylor swift as always, imagine whoever you would like... read part ii here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

The hallways haven’t changed and yet it feels different. The boards are filled with different announcements now. He looks through each, smiling at what each child writes. 

“Don’t get all teary on us now.” He turns to see his classmate looking at the same board. 

“I wasn’t.” He says.

“Good, because I don’t have tissues.” His friend jokes and he chuckles. 

“It’s good to see you.” She says and he smiles at her with small nods. “Got a wife yet?”

“Wife?” He chokes.

“Wait any longer and you’ll be fishing for dates in the retirement home.” She laughs.

“Calm down, we aren’t that old.” He shakes his head.

“And yet, everything has changed.” She sighs. “I’ll see you downstairs? I’m trying to get the hog all the food before everyone else comes.” He nods as she leaves him alone again, looking back at all the boards that used to hold his work. Every corner holds a memory. The right one at the end of the hallway was where he used to sit when he didn’t do work. On the opposite end was where he used to hide to scare his classmates.

He sighs and looks at the time. He isn’t planning to be here long. He just wants to say hi to everyone and head home. The walls carry too much for him. Everywhere he looks, he remembers something; the friends he doesn’t talk to anymore, the times he was punished for bad behaviour, and most painful of all, you. 

He lets out a breath as he pulls the sleeves of his sweater up and fans his body a little. The air suddenly seems so thin. He squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head up before he sighs. 

Get your shit together, not here.

The bathroom should do it. He just needs to freshen up, that’s it. He walks as he wipes the sweat off his palms, trying his best not to think about anything besides his breathing. 

But just as he is about to go through the doors, he sees someone staggering out of the women’s. He looks up and he sees you…

With red eyes and matching blushing cheeks. The front of your dress is slightly wet and you hands are shaking.

He opens his mouth to say something but you spare a second’s glance at him before you push herself off the wall and pass him. His lips close and he gulps, starting to feel his own trembling. He has to hold onto his wrist as he thrusts himself through to the bathroom, reminding himself to breathe and ignore the loud heartbeat in his ears. 

Maybe he made a mistake, maybe it isn’t you. Maybe he’s just seeing things because of all the emotions rushing through him just by being here. You didn’t look alright, maybe he should check on you. But did you see the glare she gave you? No, there was no way you wanted to speak to him. 

He steadies himself. 

This isn’t about to happen. He’s pushed it away for years, he won’t let it all go to hell now. 

Breathe idiot, breathe.

He knows he shouldn’t refer to himself that way, but it’s the only way he can get to himself right now. It’s the only way he doesn’t fall apart in his high school bathroom. 

He lets the tap run until he isn’t shaking anymore. He lets the water distract him so he doesn’t reach for the cigarettes in his pocket. 

And when he turns it off, he doesn’t look in the mirror. 

He can’t sleep. 

He keeps thinking of you. You looked so tired and yet you don’t look like you have aged a day. You look just like how he remembers you. 

After thirty minutes of tossing and turning, he finally reaches for his phone and texts you. 

Let it go to hell.

Hey. You alright?

It’s only a minute before she reads it. His heart races as he waits.

…Yeah, thanks for asking.

Then she’s gone.

He checks again. It has only been about five minutes, but he’s getting worried. He’s texted you a few times now but his phone hasn’t buzzed back yet. He’s about to ring you up when he suddenly hears you whisper.

“Hey.”

“Shit!” He hisses as he clutches his phone. “Don’t scare me like that.” He says but you don’t laugh, at least not fully. You just smile a little but he has studied your smile for so long now. 

“What’s wrong?” You shake your head as you take his hand.

“Did you bring your car?”

“Yeah, I parked-”

“Let’s go somewhere.” You immediately drag him away, as if you know where you’re heading. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He jogs up and stops you before walking further. But you just shake your head and sigh before combing a hand through your air. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now.” He looks into your eyes, trying to reason. But you just let out a chuckle before you look away. “Stop staring at me and just get me out of here.” He chews down on his lip. He doesn’t like leaving stones unturned but you sound so determined to leave. He doesn’t want you running off on your own. 

“Okay, where do you wanna go then?” He asks softly as he takes your hand and brings you to his car. When you don’t answer for a while, he suggests the beach.

“That’s really far.” You say as you buckle your seatbelts.

“I don’t mind.” He smiles at you before pecking your cheek. “I’ve got all night, okay?” You nod and he begins driving. After fifteen minutes of driving, you are asleep in his passenger seat. He doesn’t wake you, even when he has arrived on the beach. He just turns the engine off and watches you. He lays his jacket on you, careful not to startle you. 

You used to question him a lot. What did he see in you? Why did he choose you in the end? He ran out of words to explain after a while. But when he’s looking at you like this, peacefully asleep in his presence, he can’t help but feel the rush of emotions. It’s excitement, it’s gratitude, it’s hope. It’s one step closer to his wish of becoming better. 

When you wake up, the two of you walk along the beach. In the darkness, no one knows that it’s the two of you. It’s just two teenagers threatening to push each other into the ocean; just two people seeking comfort in each other. 

You never end up telling him what happened but he doesn’t mind. Your smile is enough for him. 

“Look at you, coming with your mom to the hospital. Years ago, you would’ve-”

“I know, I know, I would’ve been all grouchy about it.” He smiles as she takes a seat. “I think I saw the bathroom just now. I’ll be right back.” He says as he goes back the way he came. 

It’s been a week since the gathering, a week since he saw her, a week since he sent that message. He hasn’t heard anything since. Part of him wants to leave it, knowing it’s for the best. But the stronger half of him wants to send another message. 

However, he doesn’t have the words.

As he turns the corner, eyes peeled for the sign, he finds you instead. You’re walking out of a doctor’s office, a file in your hand. He watches as you get into the elevator and leave. He thinks he must be mistaken again but he knows better than trying to fool himself. 

It’s you. The way you walk hasn’t changed and you’re hair is the way it was that day. 

When he finally moves again, he looks at the doctor’s name. So he might be right, something is wrong. Even when he returns to his mother, he can’t stop thinking about it. Was it a general health check-up? Was it cancer? Was it pregnancy? Was it-

“...the birthday?”

“Hm?”

“I heard a few of your friends are coming together again for someone’s birthday next week.” His mother repeats.

“Oh,” He furrows his eyebrows as he tries to recall such an event. “I don’t know if I’ll go. I don’t really feel up to it.” He shrugs.

“I heard it’s going to be huge and there will be lots of food.” His mother sings and he immediately sits up.

“Say less.”

His mother was right. 

There’s a lot of people too.

A lot of people that he doesn’t know. A lot of people that make his anxiety pile up inside of him. He takes another sip of his drink as he stands with his back against the wall. 

The time can’t go by slower. 

His friends are laughing next to him and he chimes in every once in a while but he can’t fully keep up with the conversation. He’s eaten enough and all he wants is to go home and get something to snack on before he has to lay in bed and stare at his ceiling again. 

He places his drink on a table and steps away fast enough so no one catches him. If he can’t leave yet, he should at least get some air to breathe away from the crowd. The crowd thins as he approaches the balcony. He resists the thoughts of smoking with every step he takes. 

But when he sees you there, everything stops. 

You must be here for the party. Why else would you wear such a dress? You’re looking out at the city you both used to call home. He only sees the cigarette between your fingers when you turn to look at him but you quickly chuck it at the trash can and dust your hands off. 

You pass him again, wordless.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” He blurts out before you leave him. He thinks you’re not there anymore but then you speak. 

“I don’t have anything to say.” He stays silent, but he doesn’t hear the clack of your heels. He takes a deep breath and steps towards the city. He can’t do this if he has to look at you.

“Y-You looked like you were crying at the gathering.” He stutters out as his fingers dig deeper into his palm. To hide his trembling, he holds his wrist out on the flat railing.

“And?” Your voice is still cold and yet, he feels you are speaking softer.

“You smoke?” He breathes out.

“What do you want?” You sound tired as if you don’t want to be there right now. He chews down on his lip, debating whether he should turn around.  

“You said you would never smoke. You were the one who told me not to smoke.” He finally musters up the courage and spins. The doors are closed and you’re leaning against the walls. You look at him with half-lidded eyes, seeming to be uninterested in what he’s saying. 

“And you told me you wouldn’t hurt me.” She raises her eyebrows just a slight and it sends his heart throbbing in his chest.

“Guess there were two liars between us after all.” You muttered loud enough before you opened the doors and left. 

He only breathes again when he’s fully alone. 

And he only starts shaking again then. 

“Just say it.” You mutter. He looks down at his hands. He feels it crawling back up his arms, threatening him to take it all back. But all he does is curl his hands into fists and keep his lips pursed. You just laugh in disbelief. 

“You’re really going to drag me out here to face you and you don’t even have the balls to actually break up with me?” He doesn’t look up. The shame creeps up his throat and his face, leaving him with a burn he wishes isn’t visible. 

“Fine,” You sound like you’re sniffling. “I’m breaking up with you then.” At this point, he has to refrain from stopping you. He fights every urge to stand up and call out your name, to beg on his knees so you don’t leave. 

But by the time he finally looks up, you’re gone. 

a/n: if you would like a 2nd part, sort of expanding on like why she was at the hospital and how this progresses, let me know! anyways, finals are over!! i don't know how to feel. this week has been a little bit of a roller coaster. i was feeling very nostalgic and it brought back a lot of memories, both good and bad. i hope everyone's doing good! i'll (hopefully) be updating more frequently now!

[sweethartlullaby]

youth

word count: 271 genre/theme: angst, mention of death sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

I know I’m not seventeen anymore.  I’m not the teenage girl, thirsting for someone to finally listen to her. I’m not as broken anymore. I can say “I love you” to my parents without the pinch in my heart. I can talk to them about the things that happened after seventeen.  I don’t crave him anymore. I no longer push against the winds for less. I no longer fight battles to be held. I am safe. I am loved. Yet, I read over the messages that I sent when I was seventeen.  I sifted through millions of them, scrolling endlessly as I poured my heart into the hands of the people I trust.  Then, I remember.  I remember the things I was called. The loneliness that creeps back up my throat. The hatred for my soul, the willingness to leave. I remember why anger travels in my blood, why sadness is etched into my heart. I can never forget how my youth is forever tied to the people that I don’t talk to anymore.  I thought the sea had washed it away. Someone must have opened the bottle and found seventeen me inside Still feeling, still hurting, still begging. I want to forget again. I want to scrub it off me.  I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to remember; not the way I had to scream, not the way I was cast aside, not the way the promises made were broken. I wish to erase all of it.  I used to pray to die. And now I pray for strength.  Please don’t make me knock on death’s door again. 

a/n: just a lil drabble. i'll be back with updates on 'you, among the art' and other stories soon! and if you're reading this, i hope you realize that even if you aren't seventeen anymore (or whatever age), it doesn't have to be a bad thing. you've changed and you're still here. we're all proud of you.

[sweethartlullaby]

you, among the art iii

word count: 2091 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part iv here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

“Shit, shit, shi-excuse me.” Why, out of all days, is today the busiest day?

And why, out of all days, is she late today?

His office is buried deep into the end of the hallway and its door seems to stare down at her as she approaches. She knocks twice quickly before she takes a deep breath and slightly opens it. 

He’s wiping the blackboard when she looks in. He doesn’t directly look at her when he tells her to come in. Her fingers curl into her palm to stop herself from crumbling as she approaches his desk. She didn’t even get to look at herself before coming here. She has made bad impressions in the past so she’s hoping it doesn’t happen this time. 

“You-”

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” She blurts out. Before she can repair the damage evident on his face, more words roll off her tongue. “I got the schedules messed up and I didn’t realize that there was a class today and that I should have been here much earlier than usual. I’m so sorry I just-”

“We don’t have class today.” His voice cuts through hers like a knife slicing through the air. 

Her jaw hangs open with words lingering in the air. It’s unclear if he’s mad or not. He looks…the same. His lips are in the signature straight line, eyes a little more tired than usual, but nothing else.

No, he can’t not be angry, or even just a bit ticked off. He has to be. She’s late and has cut him off. More importantly, he cut her off too.

“As I was saying,” he dusts his palms off and nudges towards his desk. “You left your sketchbook here the other day.” 

Ah.

“Oh, I…I’m sorry. I…” She can’t find the right words. Everything feels like a pile of letters in her head.

“Sorry.” She just murmurs, head hanging low. 

“Well, as per your concern, you can introduce yourself to the students tomorrow. We can meet here at 0900 hours. I would like to run through the agenda and all the projects going on before we can start class.” She still can’t look at him but she nods slowly. 

“Alright then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She squeaks out an ‘okay’ before almost running to the door.

She’s following him like a dog. The students were giving her weird looks when she introduced herself. They act as if she is not supposed to be there. 

“...wouldn’t you agree?” She snaps back to the small statue in front of her and quickly scans it. 

“Yes.” She says, even though she has no idea what he just said. They’re currently looking through everyone’s group projects. She’s been making notes on whatever the professor says, adding her own along the way. However, she hasn’t really spoken much.

As if he reads her mind, he says, “Well, do you have any extra comments on their work?”

“I…Well…” From the corner of her eye, she can see the 4 students’ and his eyes all on her.

“I like the idea. However, I do recommend showing what you mean instead of relying heavily on your description.” She steps up and points to parts of the figure.

“It’s the size of a child’s doll so that means you don’t really have to worry about minor details. But you should take advantage of using clay. It’s much more malleable and therefore, it might be easier to bring your vision to life. This is a great first step and I’m excited to see how it turns out.” She smiles a little before she realizes she might have spoken too much. But the students nod before suggesting ideas. What is surprising though, is that he seems to be content too, with lips turned upwards just a slight amount. 

A wave of relief washes over her. She answers as much as she can and the professor steps in when he needs to. She gets more comfortable speaking and by the end of it, she feels much more like herself again. 

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asks slowly as the last student leaves. He stops gathering his things and looks up at her.

“Oh right, I forgot to tell you.” Her heart drops a little.

“I have an emergency at home and I’ll be away for the rest of the week. I’ll be back Monday for class.” 

“Oh.” While it’s not what she expected, her body still feels uneasy. There’s a beat of silence before she realizes something. “But, my monthly evaluation will be next Tuesday.” She says.

“Ah, right.” He hesitates, chewing down on his lip. “I’ll try to come back earlier but in that case, we will have to work on the weekend.” She twirls the loose piece of thread around her finger, fighting the urge to stand up for herself; but nothing comes out as he prepares to leave.

“And,” She holds a breath. “I usually hold office hours on Fridays so can I ask you to fill in for me tomorrow?” The way he says it sounds less like a question and more like a statement. She only nods.

“Thank you.” is all he says as he leaves her. 

“I don’t know! I’m just a completely different person around him.” She groans into her palms.

“I think the nerves are getting to you.” Her friend chuckles.

“I’m literally the most outspoken person our class knows and I still can’t bring myself to speak to him sometimes! It’s ridiculous.” Her hands fall onto the desk, picking up the pencil she hasn’t used in the last thirty minutes; even though she says she would be doing work. 

“Well, you did choose him. I personally think this was a long time coming.”

“That’s mean.” She narrows her eyes at her friend.

“Were our alumni warnings not enough?” Her friend crosses her arms and leans back on her chair. 

She doesn’t answer. Is she being naive? She heard so many warnings about him and she still chose him. Ever since the first presentation, she’s been on edge around him and feels that she is constantly making the wrong move.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Her friend asks.

“I’m doing his office hours for today since he’s got some emergency to attend to.” Her friend only raises her eyebrow. 

“Alright, that’s enough. Move.” She points towards the door and her friend walks out with her palms in the air. Just before she is fully out of the room, she says, “I’m just saying…”

“I don’t want to hear it!” She says without turning to her. When she’s alone again, she finally relaxes in his chair. Maybe she is just making too many excuses for him. He hasn’t been the friendliest, even though he was the one asking for her to accept him. It’s been almost a month and they have also barely worked on her project. She’s not the type to be scared but his presence itself tends to shut her up.

She sighs. 

Has she made a mistake? Has she overestimated herself? No, she couldn’t have. She knows herself enough to know that she is strong enough for this. 

“It’s just a challenge, not a threat.” She murmurs to herself before she sits upright. She repeats it to herself a few more times before she hears a knock on the door. 

“Come in.” A student pokes his head in and looks around before he speaks.

“I’m looking for the professor.”

“He’s not here today. I’ll be taking over office hours. Do you have a question?” She smiles at him, hoping she doesn’t sound or look too nervous. The young man takes a few seconds before he fully steps in and takes the seat across from her. Their conversation lasts fifteen minutes and two more students come in after him. 

It’s five in the afternoon when she finally starts working on her project. Just because he isn’t here, it doesn’t mean that she isn’t going to start working. So she puts a pair of earphones in and chisels away. The hours pass and she manages to finish the hands of her sculpture. 

By then, it’s almost eleven. She hasn’t realized that most of the lights outside are off, and she is probably the only one in this part of the building. It’s way past dinner time and her legs can’t find the energy to walk her down onto the street and home. 

And for some reason, it feels…hot.

So, she slightly pushes the windows open, hoping the wind can cool her off. With no one left in the building to help her, she’s stuck here. 

I just need some sleep.

She takes a seat in her chair and leans forward on her desk, resting her head on her arms. Her body feels heavier than the other times she is sick. But with no medicine or energy, she’s left to lay on this hard desk, hoping the sleep will help.

When she wakes up, she sees light through the windows. 

Her body aches when she moves so she stays still and slowly lifts her lids. It doesn’t make sense. She fell asleep on her arms so why does it feel like she is lying on a bed?

She looks around slowly and after a few seconds, she starts to feel the warm towel on her forehead and the blanket on top of her. A small grunt leaves her as she pushes herself up, feeling as if she is breaking free from a cast. 

“You should keep lying down.” Someone says. Before she realizes it, she’s pushed back onto the bed gently and the blanket is pulled back up to her chin. 

“S-Sir?” She asks in a whisper but he just shushes her as he fixes the towel on her forehead.

“Yes, just relax. I’m here.” He says softly but she cannot respond. He says a few other words but they’re too faint for her to make out. With her head drowning all the sounds out, she just listens to her breathing. Within a few short seconds, she falls back asleep. 

“Thank you.” She says as he hands her a cup. The steam warms her cheeks as her palms hold onto the warm drink.

“I’m sorry.” He says as he takes a seat across her. 

“You said that already.” They’re in his office and he set her down on the couch she had never noticed before. Apparently, she slept for almost twelve hours. Saturday’s sun greets them through his large windows, where a slight crack he left lets a small breeze in. 

“I truly am.” 

She sighs. “Then help me get my project together, just enough to convince the faculty that it’s going great.” She places the cup on a small table.

“Don’t worry, you have my undivided attention now.” He says with a small smile. 

“What was your emergency anyway?” She asks as she quickly stands up which, she realizes all too late that, is a mistake. Her vision becomes dotted with colourful spots and just as she gets on her two feet, her knees buckle and she falls.

Except…she doesn’t.

She looks up and sees that he’s holding her by the arms. With one swift move, he pulls her up as if she’s a feather. 

“Uhm…” She clears her throat as he places her back down on the couch. 

“Take it easy. You’ve been lying down for hours now.” His voice is stern but not like the way a parent scolds a child. It’s a little…

“It was just something I had to deal with back home.” He speaks before she finishes her thought. 

“I-I see.” What is she doing, stuttering?

“Hm,” He says and leans a little closer to her face as if he is suspicious of something. “That’s strange.”

“What is?” She says, looking down so he can’t see the red on her face.

“You seem to be quieter lately. I always thought you were a…” He pulls back and ponders for a bit, chewing down on his lip as he thinks. He does that a lot. It makes her wonder what it’s like to bite down on it too.

“A chirpier person.” She snaps out of her thoughts and blinks at him. 

“I…I am.” She straightens herself and looks at him. He’s right. She shouldn’t be so scared of him. He’s just a tall, steely…caring…slightly sexy…man.

He chuckles at her and walks to his desk.

“Get up slowly this time. I’ll get a few things then we can head to your studio.” 

a/n: this is part iii!! this is where it starts to get a little interesting! i'm really excited for the next few parts. they might take a while but i hope everyone's enjoying it so far! i understand that this might be less popular than the one shots that i usually write but i really wanted this to be a story with more plot and build-up than usual. thank you for reading and for your patience! i truly appreciate your notes and support &lt;3

[sweethartlullaby]

you, among the art ii

word count: 792 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part iii here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

It’s her first day. 

He spent about thirty minutes trying to pick out the perfect shirt this morning. Ever since the last end-of-year meeting, he has been very conscious of his fashion choices. 

You’re already on such thin ice; try not to look like you hate it here.

He’s wearing a white shirt today, one his mother bought for him when he went home this summer. As fall approaches, he lets himself breathe. The air gently floats into the room, wrapping him with comfort. With the windows open, he leaves the cardigan hugging the chair. 

He has been creating sketches in his notebook, finding things to fix even though he doesn’t need to. He can’t let himself sit idle. He has to stop himself from checking the time. With every tick of the wall clock, he grows even more nervous. He’s also a man of tea so the unusual cup of coffee today has his fingers shaking and his heart beating in his ears. 

One minute before the scheduled time, he hears a knock on his door. He turns to see her head poking inside, searching the room until her eyes finally fall on him. All of a sudden, he feels so small. 

“Oh, hello.” She says and smiles a little before she lets herself in. Her hair is in a low ponytail, and her light blue shirt sleeves are up to her elbows. Her dark pants almost hide the smudges of clay, but not well enough to his trained eye. 

He studies her for a moment too long before he realizes he is supposed to speak. 

“Uhm, hello.” He says. She stays by the door and all he can think about is that she is going to make a run for it any second now.

“Well,” She squeaks out before she clears her throat.

“Sorry, I’m not usually this nervous.”

“Do I scare you?” He says, half-joking. 

“Oh, gosh no!” She finally steps closer to him. 

“If I’m so scared of you, I wouldn’t be here.” She explains as she looks at his desk, a clutter of paper and ink. 

“Are these your upcoming projects?” She asks, keeping her hands behind her back. He hesitates. How does he tell her he was such a nervous wreck that he took it out on his sketchbook? When he takes too long to answer, she speaks.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to pry. I just-”

“They’re just ideas.” He says and he fights the urge to cringe at the way he says it. It’s always been a bad habit. The nerves make him cold and uninterested. It is probably why he barely speaks to anyone at gatherings.

“Oh.” She steps away from the table as if she crossed the line.

The coffee isn’t helping. He’s too freaked out to think of what to say. Should he apologize? Should he tell her it’s okay? He stands frozen, his tongue trying to push the words out. It takes him another two minutes of silence before he finally blurts out letters that he hopes form into words.

“Why not…I mean, why don’t you tell me about your…project?” He takes his cup into his hands to hide their trembling before he leans onto the window frame and watches her. 

“Right! So, as you know…” She gets closer again and uses her hands to explain her vision. He doesn’t ask a lot. She seems to know what she’s doing. She knows what she wants. Her vision is tremendous and creative and he can’t help but watch in awe as passion pours out of her.

It’s in the way she speaks about her work. It’s in the way she moves as she describes it. It’s almost as if he can see exactly what she means. 

“I understand that the final project may not even be tied to Black Swan but that’s actually what I am going for. I want even more fear and anguish than was shown. I want to capture so much in just one statue. It’s…” She exhales before she finally looks at him again. 

“It’s a lot, I know. But…I’m excited.” The corners of her lips turn up into a small smile. It’s refreshing, to see someone so in love in this field again. It almost reminds him of why he is here in the first place. 

“I think…it’s going to be amazing.” He says slowly. He’s never been the greatest with words, but that’s why he’s a sculptor. There’s much more for him to show than to say.

“I really look forward to working with you.” He brings his hand out and when she doesn’t take it immediately, he almost pulls it back. But then she grips him and gives him a firm shake.

“Me too.”

a/n: hellooo!! this is part two of the sculpting series. i'm soooo sorry if it sounds so choppy i honestly dk whats wrong with me. but i will try write better for the next parts!! i'm uploading a part iii right after this one since this is a bit short. i hope you enjoyed and i'd love to hear what you guys thought about it (pls be nice), who you imagined, and any songs that came into mind!