#(and i was not in the choir when auditions were held)

[shredsandpatches]

Every once in a while I think about the final movement of the Poulenc Stabat Mater and just have to sort of sit there and gibber, mentally, at the sheer levels of yearning expressed in it

[happy74827]

Moral Support

[Harvey Specter & Teen!Reader]

Synopsis: All you wanted was to spend more time with your busy uncle, but since he’s the best closer in town, even a simple concert at your school is inconvenient. Still, given the importance, you can’t help but try.

WC: 2198

Category: Platonic, Angst/Fluff

New show alert! Well, it's not really new to me since I'm almost on season seven now, and it's an old show to begin with, but this show currently has a death grip over me, and I'm actually shocked it took me this long to start writing for it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this... buffoonery because I sure did.

『••✎••』

Harvey Specter was the kind of man that was always on the move. The workaholic attorney practically lived at his job, and if he wasn't there, he was out trying to get more clients. He rarely had time for himself or for those closest to him, which was why you rarely saw him anymore. It was always quick phone calls that were over before you could even grab the phone from your father. The rare occasion that you were able to actually spend time with your uncle was the holidays, and even then, he’d always leave early. There was always some case that required his attention, and you knew better than to complain about it.

He was your hero, and you respected the fact that his work was so important to him. But that didn't stop the sting when he'd cancel plans for the third time in a row. You loved him, and you knew that he loved you, but that didn't mean you didn't miss him. You wanted him to be around, and you wanted him to be proud of you. That was why when you found out that you were picked to do the major solo in your upcoming choir concert, you immediately thought of him. How proud he’d be when he showed up and heard you sing.

But… when you decided to “drop by” his office, you were reminded once again that your uncle was a very busy man. He was hunched over his desk, his hand was in his hair, and his eyes focused on whatever paper he was reading. He didn’t even hear Donna, his amazing secretary, when she told him you were here. So, you walked in and cleared your throat, making him look up.

"Uncle Harvey, hi!" you said happily, walking closer to his desk. He looked tired and not at all happy to see you, but you weren't going to let that deter you.

"Hey, kiddo. What are you doing here?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the papers in front of him. You sat down and leaned forward, trying to read them, but he was quick to snatch them up.

"I just wanted to come see you. I haven't seen you since Christmas."

"Well, I've been busy. You know that." He said, standing up and shuffling the papers into a folder. "What's up, kid?"

Harvey turned back around to face you, a small and tired smile on his lips. You reminded him a lot of Mike, though it really should be the other way around. You were always curious about his work, wanting to learn everything you could. Mike did, too, but he didn’t have the same innocence as you. The smiles you wore were much more genuine.

"Well, I just wanted to ask you something," you said, suddenly feeling shy. He sat down again and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands.

"Shoot."

You took a deep breath and began to explain, "So, I have this choir concert coming up. I've been taking lessons for a while, and I auditioned and got this huge, big solo in one of the songs.”

"That's great. What's the question?"

"Well,” You let out a sigh, “I was hoping that you would be able to come.”

There was a pause as Harvey let what you said sink in. His expression shifted to something that you couldn't place. There was a mix of emotions in his eyes, and it made you uneasy. You knew what was coming, but you still held onto hope. You held onto the idea that this one time was the exception.

Spoiler alert, it wasn’t.

"As much as I would love to, kiddo, I can't," he said, his tone a bit softer than it was before.

"Can't or won't?"

“I have a case that requires a lot of my attention right now. A man could go to prison for something he didn’t do, and I can't risk that happening because I went to some little show."

"Some little show? Uncle Harvey, this isn’t just some show! This is a big deal, and I want you there. I want you to be proud of me,” you said, trying not to get angry.

"I'm always proud of you."

"It doesn't feel like it."

He looked at you for a moment before letting out a sigh. He leaned back in his chair, running his hands over his face. It was clear that he was stressed and had a lot of work to do, but you still couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

"I have a lot going on, okay?" he said, a bit harsher than before. You felt yourself shrink a little, and you dropped your head, nodding.

"Yeah, I know," you mumbled, standing up and grabbing your bag. "I'm sorry. I'll let you get back to work."

He called after you, but you kept walking. You didn't stop until you got outside, and even then, all you could think about was going home and being alone.

"How'd it go?" Donna asked, sitting at her desk. She had a warm smile on her lips and a cup of coffee in her hands, but it quickly faded when she saw the look on your face.

"Why ask when you already know the answer? I'll see you later," you mumbled, waving as you passed. She called your name, too, but you ignored her like your uncle. You weren't in the mood to talk to anyone. You just wanted to be by yourself. Maybe eat some ice cream, too, just to dissolve the disappointment.

Once out of sight, Donna let out a sigh, shaking her head before deciding to walk into Harvey's office. She was ready to tell him off for how he treated you, but the words died in her throat. He was leaning back in his chair, the same tired expression he'd had when you came in still on his face. It wasn't the fact that he looked so worn that stopped her, though. It was the look of guilt and regret.

"Go away, Donna,” he grumbled, not looking at her. “I don’t want to hear it."

"You should," she replied, closing the door and stepping inside. "She's a kid, Harvey, and she looks up to you."

"I know that."

"Do you? Because, from what I saw, it doesn't seem like it."

"Donna, what do you want from me? I can't just drop everything and go to a show. Not when someone's life is on the line. I have a job to do," Harvey said, his voice rising as he stood up.

"That's a crap excuse, and you know it. You can work around things. I know you can."

"It's not that simple. I have a lot going on, and I can't just let it fall through the cracks."

"But you can let your niece fall through the cracks?"

"Donna-"

"She wanted you there, Harvey, and you just dismissed her. Instead of a simple “I’ll try my best,” you said to her face that her show isn’t important enough."

"I did not say that," Harvey snapped, moving around his desk.

"Some little show?" Donna mocked, throwing his words back at him. It got him to pause, his anger fading into something else.

"Don’t quote me. You know I didn't mean it like that."

"Didn't you? You didn't exactly phrase it nicely."

Harvey's jaw tightened, and his hands clenched into fists. Donna could tell that he was holding back. She had hit a sore spot and as much as he wanted to yell, he was stopping himself.

"Why do you care so much?" he asked, his tone sharp.

"Because she's a good kid, and she deserves better than your bullshit."

"Get out," Harvey said, turning his back to her and sitting down. Donna watched him, trying to see if he'd change his mind.

"Fine," she said, "But just think about what I said."

And with that, she walked out of his office, leaving him alone with his thoughts. She wasn’t wrong, and that pissed him off.

He hated being wrong, and even though he didn’t think he was, the guilt that filled his chest wouldn’t let him think anything else.

The next week, you were backstage and trying not to freak out. It wasn’t that you were nervous. You loved to sing, and it wasn't hard to do it in front of a crowd. There were so many people there, and they all cared. You didn't have anything to worry about. It was more so the fact that your uncle was one of the few who wasn’t.

He didn’t call or even send a text. It was radio silence, and it hurt, but you weren’t surprised. As much as you wanted him to be there, he wasn’t going to come. He had more important things to do, and as much as it sucked, you accepted it.

Still, the idea of singing without him knowing about it made you want to throw up.

You didn’t have time to dwell on it though because the concert was starting. Your solo was near the end, and it was the last song, so you didn’t have to sit and watch everyone else for too long. That was good, but not enough to stop you from worrying.

Before you could start panicking, the choir started, and you were forced to focus. All thoughts of your uncle slipped away as the music washed over you, and soon, you were lost. Everything seemed to blur as the sound grew louder and the world became smaller. This was where you were meant to be. On stage, singing your heart out.

Your parents and little sister were in the crowd, and you knew they were cheering for you. You couldn’t hear them, but the image was enough.

You finished your solo, the sound echoing off the walls and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Everyone was clapping, and you smiled, bowing as the lights dimmed.

As soon as it was all over, you rushed backstage and grabbed your things, ready to go home and relax. But, the minute you walked out the front door with your father, you froze.

“You were a little sharp, don’t you think? It's not terrible; it's just a bit off-key. But we can work on that next time.”

"Harvey." Your father said, not sounding all too happy. You looked up, and sure enough, there he was. “Still an asshole I see.”

"Marcus! How nice to see you too!" Harvey greeted sarcastically, nodding along. He turned his gaze to you and smiled. You could tell he was proud, even though he didn't say it.

"I thought you couldn't make it." You said, a hint of hopefulness in your voice.

"Eh, I figured why the hell not. It's not every day that my niece becomes Hannah Montana," Harvey joked, nudging you playfully. "Seriously, kiddo. You sounded great up there. You really blew it out of the water."

Your face broke out into a smile, and you rushed forward, pulling him into a tight hug. He was stiff at first, not expecting it, but he relaxed quickly. His hand came up to rest on your head, and you pulled back, a bright smile on your lips.

"Donna talked you into coming, didn't she?"

"You have no proof of that."

"I bet she had a list."

"Of reasons why you deserve the world? Absolutely," Harvey said, ruffling your hair. "But, I am glad I came. I needed a break."

"You mean you need sleep," your dad interjected, walking over to stand beside you. He was giving Harvey a stern look, but the older Spector brother couldn’t help but smirk.

"I can't believe you're still a stick in the mud. What happened to the cool dad I once knew?"

"He had to go and get an even bigger headache."

"You say headache; I say blessing," Harvey shot back, earning an eye roll from his younger brother.

"Whatever. We'll talk about it later," Marcus said, "You eating with us, Harvey?"

"If you're offering."

"Well, then let's go. I'm starving, and we can't have you pass out. Who would drive your expensive ass home?"

"Better knock it off before Katie hears you."

"She's used to it."

"Used to what?"

"Me calling you an asshole."

"Oh, yeah? What about-"

"Boys, behave." Your mother said, finally cutting into the conversation. You all turned, a bit shocked, and looked at her.

"I can't help that he's so easy to mess with," Harvey said, pointing to his brother.

"Yeah, right. Like I'm the easy target."

"Alright, alright. Come on, let's go," Katie said, putting an arm around your shoulders and guiding you toward the car. You glanced back at Harvey and waved. He smiled and waved back, falling into step beside your father.

It was a long night of bickering and laughter. A lot of it was your dad and uncle picking on each other, but it was fun. Harvey seemed to relax and not worry about anything else. He was there, and he was happy.

Maybe, for the first time in a long time, he wasn't too busy.

Not for you.

[krawlernyannyan]

VERSION 2.2 INFORMATION ROUND-UP

The v2.2 update livestream just ended and, as usual, here's everything they revealed in one tidy place. I will state up front that they did not detail any new forms for the Trailblazer (no kit analysis or the like) but they did draw attention to the hats they're wearing in the promotional image...

PLOT DROPS

(Not picking apart the new trailer here, just mentioning things they talked about.)

The new Trailblaze Mission is titled The Fool Always Rings Twice.

Both Robin and Sunday return.

The Trailblazers will have to participate in a talent competition hosted by The Family in order to gain an invitation to the Charmony Festival itself.

Boothill has arrived to Penacony but been barred from checking in due to Acheron's arrival before him. He'll be seeking the help of the Astral Express and they bring up that Pom-Pom and Dan Heng are the only people on the train right now.

NEW MAPS

Dreamflux Reef is a new area, a "reef that the dreamscape flows past." Entering this domain in the first place would take "ways and means", and we'll encounter some old friends here.

The Festivity Auditions are a new area in the Moment of Scorchsand, where the talent show (hosted by SoulGlad) is being held. Trailblazers will have to prove themselves at each of the audition venues to earn the title of superstar and gain access to the Grand Theater.

The Grand Theater is a third new map, and the place where the Charmony Festival will actually be taking place. Based on scenes in the version trailer it's also where the new boss will be fought (see below).

NEW CHARACTERS

Robin is a Physical/Harmony character whose Skill can boost the total damage inflicted by her team and whose Ultimate allows her to provide additional damage after each ally attack. The Ultimate also allows all allies to immediately take action on top of other buffs. Her Talent allows her to regenerate Energy each time an ally attacks, and her Technique can cause enemies in its radius to start following Robin without attacking her, and attacking enemies while in this entranced state gives Robin extra Energy at the start of the battle.

Robin's advanced Trace material is the Past Evils of the Borehole Planet Disaster (the Skaracabaz drop). Her Ascension materials are IPC Work Permits (see below)

Boothill is a Physical/Hunt character with a focus on single-target elimination. His Skill initiates a Duel with an enemy, taunting and giving him an enhanced Basic Attack. Both sides of the Duel take increased damage from each other. When he either defeats a Duel target or breaks their Weakness, he gains a stackable enhancement. His Ultimate inflicts Physical Weakness on the enemy and delays their action on top of dealing damage. His Technique allows him to additionally inflict Physical Weakness with his Skill after entering battle.

Boothill's advanced Trace material is the Lost Echo of the Shared Wish, and his Ascension materials are IPC Work Permits (see below for both).

NEW ENEMIES

Several new enemies were shown in the v2.2 trailer but none of them were elaborated upon in the actual program, although they did call attention to the violinist and drink-server puppets in the Grand Theater. These two, along the cage-headed puppet, previously appeared in Sparkle's trailer "Monodrama".

We also have our new boss, Harmonious Choir: The Great Septimus! Septimus is a three-phase with multiple summoned aids. These aids are the main source of its attacks, and breaking their Weaknesses in a timely manner to render them nonfunctional is a key element of the fight. During the second phase, they'll cast a shield on themselves to protect their Toughness and reduce the damage they take while boosting their damage given. Its third phase has attacks that ignore Defense and can deal massive damage. Breaking Septimus' Weakness gives a shield unto all allies.

NEW BANNERS

In the first half of v2.2, Robin will be joined by a returning Topaz. Four-stars accompanying their banners will be March 7th, Hanya, and Xueyi. Their respective Light Cone banners will feature Swordplay, Perfect Timing, and the new Nihility Light Cone Boundless Choreo.

In the second half, Boothill will be partnered with Fu Xuan, with Pela, Luka, and Hook as four-stars. On their Light Cone banners, the four-star Light Cones featured are A Secret Vow, Geniuses' Repose, and Landau's Choice.

NEW EVENTS

Clockie: Dreamjoy Memoir - A new combat-focused event where the Trailblazers will help Clock Studios repair the screen damaged by Acheron in v2.1 by helping direct and edit films. This includes a lot of additional mechanics to bestow buffs and special effects to the battles. These effects need to be allocated to meet audience demand, and you can unlock side stories through this event. Finishing the event nets a new text box style and new event-exclusive Harmony Light Cone, For Tomorrow's Journey.

The Legend of Galactic Baseballer - Giovanni of Aetherium Wars fame returns with a game based on the Trailblazer, focused around defeating as many enemies as possible to gain experience, level up their team, and unlocked special abilities.

All About Boothill - An assignment-focused event where you won't actually meet Boothill but you'll hear plenty of stories around him and his many deeds, gathering information for rewards.

Gift of Odyssey returns.

Planar Fissure (2x Planar Ornament drops) and Garden of Plenty (2x Calyx drops) are returning.

NEW GRINDS

After clearing the Trailblaze Mission, an Echo of War will appear to refight The Great Septimus. This contains Boothill's special Trace material, "Lost Echo of the Shared Wish". Notably, this Echo of War does not drop the usual Musketeer and Thief Relics that previous Echoes dropped, but instead rewards the Duke and Watchmaker sets. Possible Light Cone drops also appear to be adjusted.

A new Stagnant Shadow, Shape of Duty, will be arriving with the material needed to ascend both Robin and Boothill, IPC Work Permits.

A new Calyx, Bud of the Hunt, will be appearing in the Festivity Auditions supplying Boothill's Trace materials: Countertemporal Shot, Destined Expiration, and Meteoric Bullet.

OTHER STUFF

A full album of in-character Robin songs, Inside, is being released on May 9th, which includes songs featured in-game and additional new songs.

Trailblazer profiles are getting new features to show off battle records.

The Friends List will show what your friends are up to in real time (like if they're in the Simulated Universe or Forgotten Hall).

In Forgotten Hall or Pure Fiction, you'll be able to see what lineups your friends used and display your own (this is optional and can be turned off).

Optimizations to team setup to more easily let you check up on your lineups.

The ability to favorite characters and ensure they stay at the top of your character list will be added.

[fcble]

GREAT THINGS, PART I

"Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known." — Jeremiah, 33:3.

In which Haksu becomes an idol in an unorthodox way. FEATURING: Kang Haksu, Lee Taein, Fable ensemble SETTING: November 2017 WORD COUNT: 10.3k WARNINGS / NOTES: Stalking, blackmail, extremely heavy-handed religious themes. Welcome to the piece that kicked my ass for over a year 🎉🎉. As in I started it a year ago and then wrote 9k words in the past two weeks. I have versions of this piece in three different perspectives. This is technically a rewrite of something I wrote earlier but now a few times longer 🎉🎉.

You’re going to do great things. You know this because it’s all anyone’s ever told you. You hear it from your father and your mother and your father’s father—until he dies—and your father’s mother—until she dies too—and your mother’s father and your mother’s mother.

You wonder when the great things will start. Time flips by, like the thin pages of the Bible that has resided on your bedside table since you were five. You’re a kid, a teenager, a young adult. You enter and exit middle school and high school. You begin to attend a mediocre university in Seoul, because it’s the only one in the city that accepted you. You brush that off, because you’re going to be great.

You think if you’re really, truly, going to be great, you might have to do it yourself.

The man’s name is Lee Taein. You meet him for the first time in a dream. You memorize the lines and planes of his face, because something about him is familiar. You conclude he must be rich or famous or both. 

In the dream, he doesn’t tell you his name. You find it yourself, on the Internet, holding the image of his face in your head as you comb through the other dream fragments: a stage, a song, a single voice. You’ve never thought about being a singer. You wonder why. 

You know how to sing. You’ve spent over a decade in choirs. You could be a singer.

That, you decide, is greater than whatever you’re doing now, which isn’t much of anything, and certainly nothing someone great would be doing.

You do your research. A lot of research. You spend your nights in bed, the darkness of your bedroom illuminated only by your laptop screen. In the mornings, you spend twice as long covering up the shadows under your eyes. 

It’s a worthwhile exchange. You learn Lee Taein is forty-nine years old. Last year, he parted ways with SM Entertainment to found his own entertainment company. You dig deeper.

He married his current wife four years ago. Her name is Jung Eunyoung. She’s forty-three, and yet has risen no higher than a secretary for a minor law firm. You learn all this from her very public Instagram profile.

His biggest vice is gambling—some of it barely legal, most of it not. You find a news article from 1999 detailing an illegal gambling ring bust. His name is mentioned once.

His new company is called Zenith Entertainment. You’re briefly disappointed to see that the last time they held auditions was February.

There are partially censored Tweets and forum threads speculating the identities of the company’s trainees. You look at the grainy pictures and read the names: Jaeseop, Kiyoung, Eunsu. 

You keep meticulous notes: index cards and the Notes app and a notebook you bought solely to organize your thoughts. Your grades slip. You haven’t attended class in three weeks.

You spend your days at a coffee shop across the street from Zenith Entertainment. You sit in a corner with a view of the building. You order the two cheapest items on the menu: a cookie and a small black coffee. You open your laptop and your notebook and pretend to work, covering the pages of your notebook with another sheet of paper whenever someone walks by.

Mostly, you watch.

You keep track of the people entering and exiting the building. Many of them work in the copywriting agency, based on their business casual outfits. You’ve stepped into the building once, only to be overwhelmed by the bright lights and the quiet hum of computers and the feeling of wrongness at being in a professional setting.

Taein dresses almost the same. If you didn’t know what he looked like, you’d miss him. The difference is in his stride and his posture: back straight, head forward, quick and even steps. You like him even more for that. He arrives in the late morning and leaves after the sun sets. You note the times: 9:43 AM, 10:02 AM, 9:56 AM, 7:19 PM, 7:48 PM, 8:10 PM.

You learn the intricacies of his schedule. There are days when he never arrives at all. You watch and wait as the hours tick by. Eight o'clock, nine o'clock, ten, eleven. No Lee Taein in sight. You wonder what he does when he doesn't work.

There are times when he'll step outside in the middle of the day, the movement catching your eye. You watch him stand on the sidewalk across the street and smoke a cigarette while he speaks on the phone. Twenty minutes later, he'll head back inside.

Sometimes you watch him leave accompanied by a younger man, somewhere around your age, who walks nearly, but not quite, behind him. You assume that must be his personal assistant or secretary or something along those lines.

Some of the people who visit the building must be trainees. You identify them from their age—young—and their dress—casual—and the times they arrive—all throughout the day. Occasionally, they stop by the coffee shop first, becoming more and more familiar to you.

There’s the tall foreigner who pronounces Americano with a distinctly Western accent. He arrives early in the morning, ordering his coffee shortly after you. He crosses the street in casual clothes and leaves in the late afternoon with the copywriter crowd, having changed into a more formal suit jacket and dress pants. You miss his departure for days until you realize he’s dressed differently.

There are the two high schoolers: one in a lurid yellow school uniform and another in a more sensible navy blue one. Sometimes their friend arrives earlier than them and sits a few tables down from you. He doesn’t wear a uniform. He sits for a half hour or so with his earbuds in while his iced coffee melts in front of him, until the high schoolers arrive. They talk loudly and boisterously, as if no one is listening.

You listen. You learn their names—Eunsu, Byeonghwi, Mingeun—and their orders—cold brew with an extra shot of espresso, iced caffè mocha, iced caffè latte. You hear them complain about teachers and Taein and trainee life.

You wonder if they could be your way in.

At night, when your roommate asks where you spend all your time, you tell him you got a job. He asks where. You fidget and your palms sweat and your heartbeat quickens. You stare past him and lie.

That weekend, you travel a few kilometers farther than usual and confess your sins.

Absolved, you think you’re ready for what comes next. 

You have to talk to Taein. You can’t be great if all you do is wait and watch. 

You peruse your notes, all of that information collected from your research and your observations, and then you devise your plan. You ask for His guidance and affirmation every day until you receive it. It comes in the form of one of your professors agreeing to overlook the sudden string of zeros in your homework assignments and tests. You were a decent enough student until a little over a month ago. If your previous work can be so easily overworked and dismissed, then maybe it’s time for your true calling. You’ve waited for this moment your entire life.

Less than a week later, you walk into the building like you belong there, not too early, not too late. You wear a winter jacket, which you shed as soon as you step inside, over a stiffly starched collared shirt and your best Sunday pants. You step into the elevator, alone, and decide to start at the top. You press the button for the fifth floor. It refuses to light up. You press it again and again to no avail. You stand in the still elevator and try the fourth floor.

Your ascent begins. You planned it all out: it's just after nine in the morning, after all the copywriters start their work and much too early for the students to be around. You're a last-minute callback from the audition, though that was months ago. It explains why Taein won't recognize you. You spoke to someone over the phone, someone named—what was her name? You can't remember. She said you should visit, so you're here—and oh, the appointment isn't in his calendar? She must have forgotten. You'll smile winningly and apologetically and Taein will be so charmed he'll agree to take you on on the spot.

You haven’t thought farther than that.

You step out of the elevator and into a dimly lit hall. The very air seems stale. There seems to be no one else around, so you proceed slowly down the hall. The fluorescent lights cast everything in a sickly yellow shade. You’re presented with two doors. The one on the left has a small glass window. You angle yourself away from it, on the off chance that someone sees you and knows you don’t belong. The one on the right is windowless, a blank slate of dark brown wood.

You debate internally for a few moments. The longer you stay there, the longer you risk meeting someone other than Taein. You try the plain door. The knob turns easily in your hand.

“Jaeseop?” A voice asks from inside. You aren’t Jaeseop, but you’ve seen that name before.

You steel yourself, silently ask for His guidance, and turn the knob all the way.

“If you’re asking about managing the social media accounts again, the answer is no,” the voice continues. It belongs to a middle-aged man, in a plain dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a ballpoint pen in the breast pocket. He looks away from his computer screen, and you find yourself face-to-face with Lee Taein.

“You must be lost. The copywriting agency is on the first two floors,” Taein says.

“I’m supposed to be here,” you say. You bow, politely, to him, then add on, “My name is Kang Haksu. I received a call a few days ago—”

Taein cuts you off, which is maybe for the better, because now that you were about to say it, your story is paper-thin and a bit silly. “You didn’t receive anything. There were no calls. You’re no one.”

Nothing is going to plan, so you do your best to improvise. “I know you’re developing an idol group. I need to be part of it.”

Taein stares at you like he can’t believe those words came out of your mouth. You believe them. You need this. Who will you be if you don’t do this?

“This is not a charity.” His voice is bone dry. “We can’t get everything we want in life. It’s better to learn that lesson early. Tell whoever sold you your information on my business and I that I don’t take charity cases.”

“I’m not a sasaeng.” His words sting. It’s a veiled accusation, but an accusation nonetheless.

“I never said you were. People like you are a dime a dozen, thinking you can waltz into the entertainment industry with no experience and no connections and immediately become a superstar. It takes much more hard work, skill, and luck than someone like you can imagine. Try your luck somewhere else.”

His words strip you to the core. Were you too naive, thinking you’d be different? You shrink back from the ferocity of it all, cowed more than you’d like to admit. You don’t take his words to heart. You can’t go anywhere else. You’re supposed to be here, under Taein’s direction. 

You don’t know how or when, but you’ll be back. You’ll find another way. You don’t have anything to say to his words, the humiliation still burning across your face, so you turn tail and flee.

You escape out into the cold, winter morning, no closer to your destiny than you were an hour ago. If anything, you’re objectively farther away. Taein knows you now, knows your name and your face and your deepest desire. You don’t let that stop you. You vow to yourself to never let him get the best of you like that again. You’ll be seeing him a lot in the future, you know, because you’ll be in his group. 

By the time you enter the cafè across the street again, you’re bouncing back. You’ve always been resilient. You’re shielded, after all, by the grace of God. The cashier starts to ring up your usual black coffee and cookie order, but you wave it away and spend a little more on a latte instead. As you sip your drink and stare broodingly at the building across the street, your second plan begins to form. If it’s a sasaeng Taein wants, then it’s a sasaeng he’ll get. 

On your way home, you stop at a convenience store and buy a new notebook. You sit on your dorm room bed and think about the days you spent watching the building, the days when Taein was nowhere to be found. He’s a bit of a workaholic, but clearly not enough to spend seven days a week at his workplaces. You, on the other hand, are unemployed enough to spend seven days a week looking into what he does. You copy the dates and times out of your old notebook and try to find a pattern.

He arrives late on Mondays, but you chalk that up to a normal dislike of Mondays. The rest of the weekdays are sporadic. There was a week where Taein missed three days of work in a row. You wonder if it's something else, if it's easily explainable. Maybe he caught a cold. It is winter, after all. You dismiss the thought. He's up to something. You know he is.

The day he misses the most often is Tuesday, from the few weeks you've watched him. In fact, he's never been at work on a Tuesday. You wonder why you never noticed that before.

It's Thursday, which means you have a few days to continue your research. You do a quick search for how much a private investigator costs, and are shocked by the results. It's fine. You can be a private investigator yourself. How hard can it be?

You plug Taein's name into one of those less-than-reputable websites that promise addresses and phone numbers. You're prompted to create an account and pay a small fee. You click through it all without hesitating. A few thousand won now means very little in the great, grand scheme of your idol destiny.

Multiple people with the same name as Taein pop up. You aren't worried, because your Taein is a public figure. That, and you know his age and his wife’s name.

Eventually, one of them fits the bill perfectly. You take a quick break to straighten your posture and ease the stiffness from your spine. You've been sitting here, engrossed in your new plan, for the better part of an hour. 

Your best guess so far is an address in Hongje-dong. You've been lucky in your observation so far. That must mean you're on the right track. You're getting closer and closer with each passing day. Tomorrow you'll close the distance between you and your destiny.

In the morning, you wake up extra early to get to Hongje-dong before Taein leaves. You doubt he takes the subway anywhere, so you rent a bike and make your way to his address. You only lose your balance twice in your first block. It’s early enough in the morning that there’s no one around to see you.

You arrive at the address much faster than you expected. The sun is only barely beginning to creep over the horizon. Then you pause, because Taein lives in a condominium. Every house on the block looks the same. The only differences are the cars parked out front of each one and the numbers on the houses. You stick out here, a young man on a bicycle with nowhere to go. You take one last look at Taein’s home and the car outside—a white Mazda—then wheel yourself around and pedal out.

You repeat the license plate to yourself in your head until you arrive at a convenience store. It’s the only place around that’s open. You buy a bag of chips and take a seat outside, keeping an eye out for Taein. You add the plate number to your notes and try to figure out exactly what kind of car he drives. You have time to spare. You expect him to head to the Zenith Entertainment building today, and he tends to arrive around nine or ten. After you consider traffic, it shouldn’t take him more than half an hour. 

You’re almost certain he drives a 2015 Mazda 3. You head back inside and buy a coffee. Then you take a few moments to think through your plan. Like if Taein drives, then where in the city does he park? Naver Map told you this convenience store was along the quickest route to Sinmunno 2-ga. What if he has a faster route? 

You’re still worrying when Taein’s car speeds by, much faster than the speed limit allows. You jump up from your seat, nearly spilling your coffee. You can’t hold it and ride your bike at the same time, so you hurry to dispose of it and pack up your notes again. You pray Taein is heading to Zenith Entertainment. It’s a little early, but maybe there’s a good reason for that. You set off in the same direction as him, though he’s disappeared from sight.

You make your way to Zenith Entertainment anyway, and by chance, see a white Mazda disappearing into a parking garage down the road from the company building. It’s too far for the garage to be connected to the building, so you lock your bike across the street and wait for him to leave. You lock and unlock the bike lock three times, fiddling with the combination. You strap the helmet to your backpack and lean against the seat and pretend to look at your phone, all the while eyeing the entrance.

Taein never leaves. You look both ways, then cross the street into the depths of the garage. It’s risky, because Taein could see you and recognize you, but you can’t take the chance that he’s gone somewhere else or is doing something else. Your imagination runs wild, thinking of all the illicit activities he might participate in. There are a number of other cars in the lot. The copywriters, you assume.

Then, in a small walkway that must lead to another entrance, you see him, standing with another man. You duck behind a car, and creep closer to the two of them. Taein must be smoking, because the smell of cigarette smoke permeates your hiding spot. 

“You wanted to do more than catch up,” Taein is saying when you can finally hear them.

“I didn’t.” The other man sounds amused.

“We could have met anywhere else. You insisted on this attempt at discretion.”

“It’s about your case,” the other man says. “They want to open it again.”

“I thought you took care of that, Cheolhwan.” Taein sounds guarded. “How much do they want?”

You don’t know what this is about, but you silently take your phone and start to record. 

“Twice what you gave me. This is above my pay grade.”

They’re quiet after that. You peek carefully through the cars to see if they’ve left. They’re still standing there, the ember at the end of Taein’s cigarette the brightest light. You duck down again without getting a better look at Cheolhwan. You wonder if he’s a loan shark or something. Breaking off and starting a company can’t be cheap.

“Alright. The police never liked me much anyway,” Taein says suddenly. You poke your head back up to watch him drop his cigarette butt to the ground and grind it under his shoe.

Cheolhwan snorts. “I can’t imagine why. Planning on begging Jinguk again?”

“I don’t beg. Jinguk-ssi and I are proper business partners.”

That gets a laugh out of Cheolhwan, the short, rough, sound echoing around the garage. 

You stop your video recording, unsure of whatever that was. You doubt it'll be of use in your quest to be an idol, but you decide to hold onto it for now. You hear footsteps begin to recede in the distance, and you wait in your hiding place until they disappear completely. 

All in all, you feel vindicated. There's something suspicious going on with Taein. You're certain you can get to the bottom of it. It's something to do with money. You can find out who Cheolhwan is. Their relationship is uncertain to you. They spoke casually to each other, but there was a degree of aloofness to the entire conversation that you don't know what to make of. Whatever it is, it was more than a simple meeting between friends.

When you’re certain they’re gone, you stand up, stretching out the crick in your neck. You assume Taein will spend the rest of the day at work, and that’s not somewhere you can watch him too closely. You return to your usual haunt across the street instead and make an attempt to catch up on your forgotten coursework. 

It’s a good attempt, but you lose all steam when the high school trainees arrive. You stare daggers at their backs, because they’re in the exact position you want to be in. You watch them order their drinks and slowly sip them, idling the afternoon by. You don't understand why they don't take their positions more seriously. There are so many other people—yourself included—who are dying to be where they are.

But you aren’t them, so you have to settle for envy.

Eventually, they leave, and you watch through the window as they enter the Zenith Entertainment building, still laughing and talking companionably. You aren't jealous. You could build your own close group of friends. You just haven't. But if you really wanted to, you could.

The sun begins to set, and you know you've outstayed your welcome. You haven't bought anything since your single coffee hours ago. The waitstaff give you sidelong looks every now and then, but they don't ask you to leave, so you pretend you don't see them.

You finally see Taein make his long-awaited exit a little earlier than usual. He's walking fast. This time, you’re prepared. As his Mazda 3 emerges from the parking garage, you’re right behind him on your bike. You think he should be heading home, but that's not set in stone, so you decide to follow him. Your intuition pays off when you see him turn not back to Hongje-dong, but somewhere else. At a traffic light, you pause to try and figure out where you are. You've only lived in Seoul for a year and a half, the length of your short-lived university career. The city blocks are still unfamiliar to you. The light turns green, and Taein speeds off. You rush to catch up with him.

You wonder where he could be going, driving so quickly he nearly bowls over a pedestrian. Leave it to him to be so careless. Your opinion of him is souring faster and faster.

He comes to a stop outside of a small, decrepit bar you’ve never heard of before, still driving too quickly as he pulls into the parking lot. You stop, across the street again, trying to figure out where you are. It doesn’t like the type of scene that caters to university students or tired corporate employees. Your mind goes to the worst places. It could be a front for all the worst types of activities—drugs and gambling and prostitution. You record the name in flickering neon lights anyway.

You’re about to leave and try to return during the day when you spot Taein leaving. He’s in the company of a young woman, and so you almost don’t recognize him. She’s wearing a long coat, but the front is open, giving you glimpses of an outfit that isn’t close to being warm enough for the weather. She clings to Taein’s arm like a lifeline, stumbling over the cracks in the sidewalk in her heels. They look like a couple. Your stomach turns. He has a wife.

With shaking hands, you raise your phone and snap another few pictures. You don’t want to see him anymore, so you don’t bother to try and follow them. You almost regret your decision to weasel your way into his life. Instead, you get back onto your bike and head home.

Saturday arrives. You don't spend your weekends at Zenith Entertainment, because you have better things to do. Or had. This morning, you wake up early again to bike back to Taein's home. You spent some time last night wondering just how far you’ll go to reach your destiny. Between that shady conversation you overheard yesterday and the young woman he met up with, you’re almost afraid of what you’ll see him do next. Sometimes you have to do difficult things before you can do great things.

More than that you’re curious about what Taein does on the weekends. Before this, your impression of him was that of a career-driven man with few feelings or even an existence outside of his job. You don’t understand why you have to work for this man, but it isn’t your place to question it.

You cycle around the blocks a few times, and it slowly comes to light in your head.

Taein is clearly the breadwinner between him and his lawfully wedded wife, so you doubt he spends his weekends shopping or cooking or cleaning. You also doubt he’s devout. As hard as you try, you can't even begin to picture him in church. You're almost certain he doesn't have kids. If he does, it's a very closely guarded secret, because it wasn't mentioned once in anything you read about him online. You wonder if maybe he had kids with his previous wife and lost custody of them. Knowing what you know about him now, you don’t find that hard to believe.

The white Mazda 3 sits outside of his condo. A light is on inside the house. You aren’t looking forward to spending a day waiting for Taein to do something. You wonder if you should have forked over the money—your parents’ money—for a private investigator. Then it would be someone else keeping watch on Taein’s house, someone more suited for the job than one young man shivering on a bike.

You think it's weird for you to sit right outside his house, so you take to patrolling the two possible entrances to the street instead. You pedal slowly, heading up and down the street. At the moment, there's nothing you fear more than having him leave without you noticing. You pause to scrutinize the map on your phone to ensure there are no other exits or back roads or possible ways out of his home other than the main street.

Then, eventually, you see his car roll by. You rush after it. He's driving slower than normal. That's when you notice it isn't him in the driver's seat, but his wife. She's the only one in the car. It makes sense, then, that the car is following the posted speed limits. You wonder what Taein is possibly doing alone at home now.

You ride back to his house, just in time to see him step outside and lock the door behind him. You stare, shocked, and have just enough sense to hide behind the condo across the street. His wife left less than five minutes ago. Where are they going, separate and alone?

Taein heads off on foot. You wait until you see him leave. The bike is a bit cumbersome. How could you have predicted that his wife would take the car somewhere and he’d leave on foot? You walk alongside your bike and try to pretend you aren't following him. You ride halfway around the block in boredom before you have to turn around so you don't lose him. You wish he could walk faster.

You check your phone. What's within walking distance of his condominium? The convenience store you sat outside of. A station? He could get anywhere from there.

The streets are too empty for you to follow closer. If he were to turn around, he'd spot you immediately. It stresses you out. You aren't a professional. You really should have hired a private investigator.

To your dismay, he turns into the subway station. You abandon your rental bike right outside, tapping through the app to return it as you continue to follow Taein. There are a few more people here, which makes it easier for you to follow him, and easier for him to lose you.

He's waiting for Line 3 towards Ogeum, the only line that runs through this station. You check the overlapping lines on the map, standing behind him so he doesn't see you. There are too many options for possible transfers: Jongno 3-ga, Euljiro 3-ga, Chumgmuro, Yaksu, Oksu, and on and on and on. You hope he doesn't travel too far. You hope he doesn't get off somewhere and order a taxi. You fill the time by once again trying to imagine what he does for fun on the weekends. For some reason, you can't picture him doing anything. He's the type of person to spend the weekend at the office. You chart the path to Zenith Entertainment from your current location. It’s two stops on the line and then a short walk. It wouldn't surprise you if he stopped there. You don't particularly want to go to Zenith Entertainment again. You're supposed to find something about him that will leave him no choice but to accept you. The woman he met yesterday was a good start. You wonder if he's heading out to see her again. 

As you're lost in your thoughts, the train arrives. You make sure you're in the same car as Taein, though it increases the chances of him noticing you. You'll have to play it off as a coincidence. You rehearse the lines in your head. You'll pretend you don't recognize him. As if you could forget what he looks like. He might not recognize you, you realize. You met him once, for a few minutes. The train picks up speed.

You pass through the first few stops with no incidents. So Taein isn’t going to work. Your interest is piqued.

You're on the train with him for almost forty-five minutes. You watch station after station pass by, the smooth tone of the recorded announcer reciting stop after stop. Taein makes no move to exit at a single one. He stares down at his phone, which lets you stare at him. He doesn't do anything interesting. All he does is scroll through his phone, tap his screen a few times, then stare. He looks like your average salaryman.

He finally gets off in Yangjae. You’re in Gangnam now. You let him leave first. When the doors are about to close, you follow after him. He isn't heading out, but through the station. You follow him to a transfer to the Shinbundang Line. You only know this because you’re spending so much time staring at the map on your phone, it’s starting to become engrained on the backs of your eyelids.

He rides the new subway line for one stop. You both exit at Gangnam Station. You follow him up back into the daylight. It's much more crowded here, locals and tourists alike. 

Taein walks faster. That probably has something to do with the crowds. You hurry after him, thankful you're no longer burdened with your bike.

He heads down a series of twists and turns, alleyways and backroads forming a route Naver Map would never recommend to you. You’re glad it’s the middle of the day. You’d hate to do this at night.

In front of you, Taein heads into a storefront you wouldn’t be caught dead in. This one doesn’t have a name on top of it. You take a picture anyway, then cross-reference your location with the map. There’s still no name. You debate whether or not you should follow him in. From the outside, it’s not the type of place you belong. But Taein could be doing any matter of incriminating activities in there, and that’s what you need to see.

You let your internal debate rage for a few seconds more. Then you cross the street and push the door open.

The room is dimly lit. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and when they do, you realize a few of the patrons are looking at you. You’re the youngest person in the room. You slide up to the bar and order a drink. God knows you need it.

You take a small sip and grimace immediately. It's obvious people don't come here to drink. You cast a casual glance around the room, looking for Taein. It isn't too crowded. He should be easy to spot---and vice versa, he could easily spot you. You don't see him. Most of the patrons are more engaged with the TV screens in the corner of the room and across the top of the bar. You expect to see sports or the news or something along those lines. You look up to see horses.

It clicks in your head. Horse racing. These people are day drinking and gambling. You belong anywhere else in the world but here. And where is Taein, in this entire mess?

You flag the bartender down.

"Did you see a man come in?" you ask. "Middle-aged, around my height, with an oversized watch? His name’s Lee Taein." You do a bit of your own gambling, placing a bet on Taein being a regular here.

The bartender regards you curiously. "You’re looking for Taein-ssi?”

"He’s my boss," you say. "He told me to meet him here. I was promoted recently. He wanted to celebrate."

The words fall easily from your tongue. It's more of a lie than the truth, but it could be the truth soon enough.

"Congratulations. He invited you here and didn't tell you the password?" The bartender shakes his head. He points into an ever darker recess of the room. "Down the hall. To the left of the bathroom. 8179."

You thank him and leave your drink alone. The left of the bathroom is a door with a keypad above the handle. You type in the passcode, and the lock clicks.

Taein is on the other side of the door. Your destiny is on the other side of the door. You take a deep breath and crack the door open.

You don't know what you expected. It certainly wasn't the opposite of what you experienced upstairs. For a secret room, it's well-lit and almost cozy. There aren’t many people in the room, just a few small groups of four or five people sitting around green, square tables, playing cards. Now, you spot Taein immediately, sitting behind a decently-sized pile of poker chips, the largest pile on his table. One of the people he's playing with the young woman you saw him with last night. She seems your age, maybe a few years older or younger.

You close the door silently behind you. Your skin crawls. You want to get out of here as soon as possible.

There's another bar down here, against the back of the wall. The drinks on the tables look significantly better than they do upstairs. You think about getting another one, just to make it look like you belong here and you fit in.

No one seems to notice your entrance, too engaged in their games. Your luck holds as you slide around to take a few pictures of Taein, holding your phone just in front of you, at waist level. Your fingers shake, but blurry photos are better than no photos. No one else has their phones out, not even resting on the poker tables. It feels illegal for you to do this. In fact, everything about this feels illegal. You make sure to get Taein's full face in the images, and from multiple angles. Then you slip your phone back into your pocket.

That's when you're interrupted.

"You're new here." A hand lands on your shoulder. A few people—not Taein—look up at that, before just as quickly returning to their games. You turn slowly around to see a man twice your size, a bouncer inside the club.

"I was looking for the bathroom," you say, aiming for young, fresh-faced innocence.

"How old are you, kid?"

"Nineteen," you lie. You’re twenty-one. You hate how easily that one comes out. You could have told the truth.

"Good try," the man says, keeping his firm grip on your shoulder as he guides you back to the exit. You take a glance back at Taein. Throughout the entire ordeal, he hasn't looked up once, much too concerned with the cards in his hands. Although it doesn’t look like it, you hope he loses. 

You aren't in the mood to wait in the real bar until Taein emerges, so you leave.

"Leaving already?" the bartender upstairs asks.

You ignore him. It doesn't matter. You're never coming here again.

You head home to see how blurry your pictures are. You think you might already have enough material to force him to give you a position. He's made it scarily easy for you. You didn't even need a private investigator.

You spend the rest of the week following him around anyway. You've grown used to it: the bike rental and Taein's neighborhood and Zenith Entertainment and a variety of bars and hotels across the entire city you know you’ll never step foot in again, and once, another day spent in Gangnam at a shiny skyscraper. Taein arrived at seven in the morning, earlier than he does at Zenith Entertainment, and didn't emerge until nearly eight at night. That was weird, but you had no way of getting into the building, short of breaking in. You had considered pizza delivery, kid of an employee, new employee, and a few other disguises before giving up. After the bouncer encounter, you’re staying clear of security. And that building made its security obvious, what with all the men in navy blue uniforms and earpieces, standing outside every entrance. What were the chances of Taein doing anything illegal or immoral there? Low, you figured, judging by the number of luxury cars dropping passengers off outside.

In your spare time, you try to find anything about Cheolhwan. With only a first name and a tenuous connection to Lee Taein, it’s difficult. You find two Cheolhwans in Taein’s Korea University graduation class. That was decades ago. You doubt either of those are the same man. 

Regardless, you go through with your new plan. Armed with your newly obtained material, you’re ready for your second attempt. You know Taein's schedule now. That means when he arrives at Zenith Entertainment for the day, on a bright, sunny, perfect Wednesday morning, you're standing outside his office.

"You again," Taein says, calm and impassive. "This type of perseverance is seen as obsessive behavior. The answer is no again."

You haven’t even asked your question. You watch him unlock the door to his office.

"Please leave."

You stop him from closing the door with your foot. "I have something you might want to see."

"I don't think so," Taein says. He seems to be in a bad mood. He must have had a bad night last night.

"If you don't want to see it, I think your wife, Jung Eunyoung-ssi, might have an interest in it instead," you say.

That gets his attention. "I don’t see what you’re getting at. I don’t mix business with pleasure."

"Please don't play dumb, Taein-ssi," you say, adapting to each of his evasive attempts. You didn't plan this out. You remember how poorly that went last time. Taein is unpredictable to you. You don't know him nearly well enough to begin to predict any of his responses. "I know you're seeing another woman."

Taein stares at you. "I suppose you should come inside." He sounds extremely reluctant. At the same time, you know this isn't a conversation the two of you should be having in a corridor. You tamp down the sudden flare of excitement in your chest. 

His office looks the same as you remember it. You take a seat in the plastic folding chair with the uneven legs.

"Are you a private investigator? A detective? You’ll find everything in order."

He’s defensive already. You’ve barely said anything. The investigator comment is a bit flattering. You like it.

“Everything except your marriage,” you note.

Taein shrugs. "Divorce is messy. I don't have time for that right now."

You think it's terrible that he divorced his first wife, and seems to be considering divorcing his second wife. You shove the thought aside and bring out your phone, placing it on the table between the two of you. 

“What’s her name?” you ask. “You seem to spend a lot of time with her.”

It's definitely not the strongest statement, but your proof is what's more important. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words.

"Did Eunyoung hire you?" Taein asks suddenly, ignoring your comment. He's looking at you, instead of the pictures of himself.

"No," you say. "No one hired me."

The two of you look through the album together: Taein and the young woman, arm in arm over and over and over again, in bars and restaurants and hotel lobbies and out on the street in broad daylight.

Then, Taein swipes one photo too far and you’re both presented with a photo of Taein in profile, staring intently at the two playing cards he’s holding. He picks up your phone. "How did you get this?"

He isn’t denying it any longer. You figure it's hard to deny something when the hard, concrete proof is right in front of you.

"I was there," you say.

Taein thinks about it for a second, then nods. "I didn't recognize you then. You were the one Soogeun-ssi removed."

You don't like his choice of words, but you nod anyway. You didn't think he'd noticed you. You thought you were so clever, getting away with everything. You don’t have anything else to say. Your photos speak for you.

"Who paid you?" he asks again, deathly calm. This is uncharted territory. “How much more would I have to pay you?”

“No one paid me anything. I don’t want your money. All I want is to be an idol.”

He shakes his head. “There are easier ways to do that.”

“This is the way I’m doing it. This is the way I want to do it.” This is the way you have to do it.

Taein’s expression is inscrutable. You’ve played your hand. It’s up to him to respond. You wait with bated breath, until he finally says, “I’ll give you a trial period. If you can keep up with everyone else for a month, we can reconsider your position then. If you can’t, then we part ways amicably. No one, least of all Eunyoung, needs to know what you’ve done.”

“I don’t get anything,” you say.

“You get a chance,” Taein snaps. “It’s more than you deserve. Time will tell if this bet pays off.”

You don’t appreciate being compared to a game of roulette. “I might talk to Eunyoung-ssi any time in the future.”

“You might. It won’t make a difference.” He’s oddly calm. It unnerves you.

“Why not?” You have to ask.

“Cheating isn’t illegal. Nor is playing cards in a private setting. Stalking, on the other hand, is.” You can’t do great things from a jail cell, so that keeps you from continuing to argue. 

Taein continues to speak. “For the time being, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to ruin my marriage. The negative press would be disastrous at this time, and divorce proceedings are lengthy. As long as you want to work for me, our fates are tied.”

That’s a sentiment you can support. You nod slowly. Something like a smile takes its place on Taein's face. “You can come by on Monday. The other trainees know it's too late for me to accept anyone new. Tell them you've been confirmed to debut.”

On your first day, you take the elevator up to the third floor. It opens to a floor much different from the fourth. The left side is the same: a door with a glass window, expanding all the way down as far as you can see. The right side leads into an open office, with cubicles arranged in small groups of fours and fives. There are even a few people sitting amongst the desks. That isn't your place, so you ignore them and push open the door to the left. 

There's one person in the room, a teenage boy sitting down on the floor and stretching. He looks up at you when you enter with sharp, calculating eyes. You recognize him for your days in the cafè—Mingeun. He doesn’t seem to recognize you. He rises to his feet, moving with a grace unfit for his age, like he’s so perfectly comfortable in his body despite being in his awkward teenage years. You were nothing like him when you were his age a few years ago.

“I’m Haksu,” you say. “I’m new here.” You smile at him, something you think is befitting of an idol, but he doesn’t return it. If anything, his neutral expression grows frosty.

“Mingeun,” he says stiffly. “Taein-nim promised there wouldn’t be any more new people. Where are you from? JYP? YG?”

He sounds whiny and childish. You’re unimpressed.

“Gunsan,” you try, though you know that’s not what he means.

Mingeun scowls. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

You’re about to respond, to tell him you’re not from anywhere in the way he means, when the door flies open. You recognize both of the two new arrivals—one is the tall foreigner you’ve seen in the cafè, and the other is the young man you’ve seen following Taein—his assistant, presumably.

“Mingeun!” Taein’s assistant scolds. “Stop harassing the new guy.”

“I wasn’t harassing him,” Mingeun shoots back. “We’re going to be good friends. Right, Haksu-ssi?”

The look he gives you clearly says to play along. You don’t know if you’re going to be good friends, but you nod along anyway. Their conversation continues like you aren’t even there.

“We were just getting to what company he trained at,” Mingeun says. “Then we were going to talk about why Taein-nim thought he should join us.”

Taein’s assistant winces. “You won’t like either of those answers.”

“Another SM reject? I can handle it. I’m over it.”

Taein’s assistant ignores Mingeun and turns to you instead. He holds his hand out, Western-style, and says, “I’m Jaeseop. I’m so sorry about Mingeun. We''—he gestures to himself and the cafè foreigner—”were supposed to be the first ones to meet you. Sam—Taein-nim—held us up. Oh, and that’s Andrew.”

Your first impression of him is that he’s frazzled and all over the place. You imagine being Taein’s assistant is a difficult job. Behind him, Mingeun folds his arms, clearly upset about being excluded from the conversation. 

You grasp his hand. “Haksu.”

“I know,” Jaeseop says, suddenly looking like he’d rather be anywhere but in front of you. “Taein-nim told me about you.”

You wonder how much Taein told him. You don’t think he’d tell his assistant everything. It’s supposed to be a secret between the two of you.

“How many—” You hesitate in the middle of your sentence. Of you? Of us? How long until you're one of them? “—other trainees are there?”

“Seven,” Jaeseop says. “With you, there's eight.”

“If you're expecting monthly evaluations and competing against fifty other trainees, we're past that,” Mingeun cuts in.

“We’re the debut team. We’re all that's left,” Andrew adds.

The three of them seem so in-sync with one another, like parts of a perfect, well-oiled machine. You're the loose cog, the piece of scrap metal carelessly tossed inside, with all the potential of breaking the machine into pieces. And how does Taein's assistant fit into all of this? He seems close to Andrew and Mingeun, closer than an assistant to the CEO should be.

“When will I meet everyone else?” you ask, just to change the subject.

Jaeseop, with all the mental fortitude of an overworked assistant, takes a deep breath and begins to rattle off a list of names and short descriptions and times, most of which fly right over your head. “Intak will be here around lunchtime, after his classes end. Byeonghwi and Eunsu come by after school in the mid-afternoon. Kiyoung-hyung keeps saying he'll quit his job, but he hasn't, so he won't be here until the evening.”

Andrew picks up on your obvious cluelessness, and simplifies it down to, “Intak will be here soon. He'll be extremely bad at small talk. Don't mention it to him.”

You don't know where that came from, but you nod along anyway. These are going to be your group members. You need to get along with them. 

“Don't talk about League either,” Mingeun adds suddenly. You didn't realize he was still part of the conversation. “Unless you're also an SKT fan upset about their loss. He's really into that. You don't seem like a gamer.”

“I play a bit,” you say diplomatically, because you do. You were a teenage boy at one point, and there was no way for you to survive those years without playing League of Legends at least once.

“We all have sensitive topics, “ Jaeseop says as way of explanation. “Things we don't want to talk about and therefore try to avoid unless there's no other way around it. Mingeun, yours are?”

With a sigh, Mingeun dutifully says, “SM Entertainment. All you need to know is that I used to be a trainee there. And my mom. You don't need to know anything about her.”

Jaeseop keeps saying “we.” If you hadn’t seen him so many times with Taein, you’d take him for another trainee. You want to ask what his role really is, but you know you can't, because it'll betray you. It's harder than you expected to act like you know nothing about them. You'll have to be careful to not slip up. 

He turns his full attention to you, and asks, “Got anything?”

This is the last thing you expected from your first day as an idol. Your first item comes quickly. “How I joined Zenith Entertainment.”

You know you'll have to tell them eventually, but for now, you want to get along with everyone. Mingeun looks like he wants to ask you anyway, consequences be damned.

Andrew dismisses him before he can speak. “Byeonghwi asked for the same.”

“He asked us not to ask him why,” Jaeseop corrects. “He got in through the audition.”

Mingeun attacks like a shark smelling blood in the water. “Why’d you do it?”

You could tell them that, you suppose, but something holds you back. You want to be certain you can achieve your destiny before you start shouting it to the world. “I don't want to discuss that either,” you say instead. It's the only way out of it you can see, so you take it.

“Can we talk, hyung?” Mingeun asks, turning to Jaeseop. “Privately?”

You know you'd be the subject of their conversation. You can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. You like the attention, but in this context, it seems bad. You want to get along with Mingeun, but it's clear he has little intention of getting along with you.

“No.” Jaeseop's response is firm, and you like him a little more for that. “You can tell me in front of Haksu-ssi.”

Mingeun falls silent, clearly unwilling to say whatever he wanted to say a few minutes ago.

“Great. Anything else?”

You do have a few other ideas in mind, but you've already chosen two major ones and you're afraid to rock the boat, so you shake your head.

On the wall behind him, you notice, for the first time, a schedule created out of a bunch of individual pieces of paper taped together. You skim over it. It’s overwhelming. There are classes on three out of the seven days, scheduled back to back to back: dance lessons and vocal lessons and rap lessons and media training and a short section on how to walk and more dance lessons. It's overwhelming. You're thankful to see that Sundays are, blessedly, left empty.

Jaeseop follows your gaze. “It’s a lot to take in at first,” he says sympathetically. “You’ll get used to it.”

You will, because you have no other choice. Your options are to adjust, or to give up and forfeit your spot and your destiny. The latter isn’t even in the realm of possibility. You’ll adjust and you’ll succeed, because you have to.

Then it's noon, and Intak arrives. You remind yourself: no comments on his social skills and nothing about League of Legends. He shows up with nothing but a laptop bag slung over one shoulder and a can of Red Bull. He looks over you with a disinterested gaze, asks, “Another one?”, chugs his Red Bull, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he and Andrew disappear out of the practice room to wherever else they go. 

Mingeun leaves shortly after the two of them. You know he's going to the cafè to wait for the two high schoolers, but you don't say that out loud. You watch him leave, and then you're left alone with Jaeseop, the two of you sitting on the floor. 

“If I ask about how or why you became a trainee, can you give me an answer?” Jaeseop asks.

“No,” you answer, because you can't.

“Do you have any relation to the Danyoung Group?” is his next question.

“No,” you say again, unsure what a chaebol who built and now owns three-quarters of the buildings in Seoul has to do with you. “I’m from Gunsan.”

He stares at you like he doesn't believe you. You meet his gaze until he looks away. 

He sighs. “I’ll take you on a tour. You haven’t seen everything yet, have you?”

The question appears much more rhetorical than literal, so you follow him out of the room. 

“The floor used to be all office space,” Jaeseop says, walking backwards as if he’s a professional tour guide. “This half hasn’t been converted yet.” He gestures to the messy sprawl of cubicles. To your surprise, that’s where Andrew and Intak are, two chairs in the same cubicle, though it looks like Intak is the only one working. 

Jaeseop avoids them and makes a beeline for the other side of the space. It’s emptier than you had thought at first glance. He introduces you to a middle-aged man, sitting at a desk, surrounded with a tidy assortment of trinkets and knick-knacks and framed photographs. It’s the polar opposite of Taein’s office.

“This is Sanghyun-nim,” he says. “He’s Taein-nim’s right-hand man. He does all the unpleasant tasks Taein-nim doesn’t want to do.”

That doesn’t seem conducive to your image of Taein. You’ve seen him do a few unpleasant tasks. You suppose those weren’t necessary for his job.

“The menial ones,” Sanghyun corrects. “You’re the new recruit. Kang Haksu-ssi.”

“That’s me,” you say, surprised by the way he recognizes you. You wonder how much Taein told everyone else, what kind of story he fed them. You doubt it was the truth. You hope you can trust him. If you can’t, it’s a little too late for that.

He seems like he could have an entire conversation with you, but Jaeseop whisks you away. “Hyekyung,” he says, of a young woman around your age, with a phone tucked on her shoulder, taking notes with her other hand. She waves in your general direction.

“Social media and marketing,” Jaeseop explains. “I wouldn’t get on her bad side. She’s really the one in charge of this entire area.”

He stops in his tracks and points across the room. You tiptoe to see what he’s trying to point out to you. A woman who looks like she should be a floor below them with the copywriters sits alone at a desk, a wide berth between her and anyone else.

 “Gyeongwon,” Jaeseop says, voice dropped to a whisper. “She doesn’t work here, but she works with Taein-nim. I wouldn’t upset her either.”

He moves on, taking quick strides across the floor to the side opposite the elevator. “The stairwell is here. Goes from the first floor up to the rooftop.”

You think he’s going to take you up the stairs—to the rooftop, maybe—but he stops. “The fourth floor is only Taein-nim’s office for now. I assume you’ve been there. The fifth floor is empty. The elevator doesn’t go up there. If you do ever go up to the rooftop, the door is always stuck.”

You try to follow along, completely overwhelmed with the amount of new names and faces and information you’re expected to now know.

Jaeseop checks the time on his phone. “Mingeun should be back by now.”

You don't have much praise for Jaeseop's tour. This time, when you open the practice room door, Mingeun is pacing. The conversation stops abruptly as you enter. Eunsu and Byeonghwi, you remember, though you can’t remember who’s who. 

Jaeseop comes to your accidental rescue. “Eunsu.” He points out the boy in the mustard-yellow uniform. “And Byeonghwi.”

Byeonghwi gives you a smile and a wave, and you’re immediately struck by how he seems genuinely happy to meet you, as if he was destined to be an idol, forever pretending and playing along with people slipping in and out of his life. Like you, you have to remind yourself. It’s a sharp contrast from the way everyone else has behaved around you. High school students are supposed to be annoying and immature, not better than you at your own fate. You try not to let it get to you.

Not long after their arrival, Intak and Andrew make their re-entrance. Andrew is in a different outfit, the type of corporate wear you’ve seen him leave in. You see your opportunity, so you take it. 

“You changed,” you observe.

“Work,” he says. “I teach English at a hagwon.”

You wonder if he’s qualified to do that, and then if the parents of the students he teaches know that their teacher is focused on being an idol and not on teaching. You should have guessed. What else could he do? 

You watch him leave. Almost as soon as the door shuts softly behind him, Intak pulls Intak to the side and speaks softly. You strain your ears to overhear, though you're drawn into Eunsu and Mingeun and Byeonghwi’s inane conversation. 

"I can't work with him," Intak is saying.

"I know," comes Jaeseop's reply. "You have to try."

"I am trying," Intak hisses. "He's the one who doesn't want to try. He thinks he can do it all by himself. He refuses to show me anything he's working on. He’s impossible."

"I know," Jaeseop says again. He says something else, but you don’t hear it, because Byeonghwi is asking you how and why you joined the company, and you have to tell him that’s not something you’re ready to talk about yet.

You watch the sun start to set out of the windows overlooking the street. They're open, but they face the wrong way and let no air in. You want to go home. Jaeseop steps out to pick up dinner. No one makes a move to leave, so you don't either.

When the sun is fully down, you meet Kiyoung. He arrives looking a bit too much like a copywriter as well. You would have mistaken him for one, had the reception to his entrance not been perfectly warm and friendly.

You learn a few more facts in rapid-fire fashion. He's the oldest of the team. He works for an environmental non-profit organization, and is refusing to quit until he finishes his current project. Before he was a Zenith Entertainment trainee, he was a trainee at another small company that went under before he could debut. He met Jaeseop when they were both in middle school and their schools double-booked the same trip location.

You exchange a few more pleasantries, and then the mood of the room shifts more towards homework than anything else, because everyone—with the exceptions of Kiyoung and Intak—are still in school. It surprises you to learn that Jaeseop is a student.

“This is my last semester,” he explains when you ask. “I don’t go to class much anymore. I’ll graduate just fine.”

You’re beginning to feel like the odd one out, so you continue your hopeless quest to catch up on all your work. You probably aren’t going to graduate. You probably aren’t even going to finish this semester.

Andrew returns later in the night, and that, for some reason, signals the end of the day. Eunsu is pressed to the glass, announcing his imminent arrival before he even steps foot in the building. Andrew’s single action upon returning to the third floor is to pick up Byeonghwi, who seems only too enthusiastic to leave. After that, it’s a free-for-all bordering on a bloodbath. You wait, because you’re new, and it’d be rude of you to be one of the first to leave.

Then it’s you and Jaeseop and Mingeun, nearly a mirror image of the morning. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Jaeseop says to you, and then in almost the same breath, “Make sure you go home, Mingeun.”

Mingeun scowls.

You nod, though you’re almost dead on your feet. You think being a private investigator might be a little easier. You aren’t sure how, but you’ll survive it. You have to. It’s the only way you can do great things.

[hvcmixtape]

how can he ever resist you? mingyu's known that he's loved you for every single moment of his life since you came into it, but being your friend a has left him no choice when you push him farther than he can take.

pairing: mingyu x reader ; hopeless-romantic!mingyu, flawed!reader, fed-up!mingyu wc: ~1100 genre: angst ; tw: cursing, mention of a knife (non-violent), mention of blood (non-violent) note: this is for freya's (@angelwoozi) request for an angsty love confession from childhood best friend!mingyu, so i hope you enjoy it! inspired by the anime your lie in april! (listen to friend a while you read)

You’re a liar, and Kim Mingyu knows it.

You’re also unpredictable, short-tempered, and way too pushy. You’re far from perfect.

But there was never a moment where he had to ask himself what was this feeling that was stirring his heart. He just knew.

From the moment he met you on the school playground in the first grade, he picked up on your personality. But when you called out to him from the sandbox, choosing him out of all the other people in your class, yelling, “Hey! Come play with me!” how could he have resisted taking one of your dolls and standing it up right beside yours? He squatted right down next to you, repeating his name when you asked for it even though he knew yours from during the first day of school introductions last week. Above your heads were fully bloomed cherry blossom trees, a sign of a beautiful spring season.

How could he have resisted when you physically pushed him into the choir audition room in middle school because you knew he wouldn’t do it on his own? Mingyu could barely control his breath from hyperventilating, but when you braced your hands onto his shoulders and told him that he could do it, and you’d buy him an ice cream cone from the truck outside, suddenly he could breathe again.

How could he have resisted when you dragged him to the middle of the floor during your high school prom even though you both brought dates that were not each other? You held onto both of his hands, lacing your fingers together as you moved to the beat of “Dancing Queen” because you both turned 17 within a week of each other and within a week of prom, so it only was fitting that you danced together, having the time of your lives. 

And how can he resist even now, as your tears drench the shoulder of his cotton shirt as you lean on him? As much as Mingyu hates seeing you in pain, the promise he made to your mother to take care of you when she found out you were attending the same college is not forgotten, and this is how he’s taking care of you at the moment.

Passing another tissue to your hand, he makes sure you dab at the tears trailing from the corners of your eyes.

“Another one, please,” and he grants your request as you sit up to face away from him to blow your nose.

It’s almost like a routine.

You date someone for three weeks, it never works out well because of whatever reason, and he’s stuck here again in his dorm as his childhood crush cries on his shoulder.

“What was the reason he said again? Wonwoo?” The fact that he needs to clarify who speaks volumes about your dating adventures. 

You look up at him with bloodshot eyes and pursed lips, and his heart leaps to his throat, making him want to retrace his steps. It hurts him seeing you like this.

“He said I didn’t align with his plans for the future.”

Mingyu scoffed, wanting to yell that you “dated” him for three and a half weeks! If you could even call cuddling after he rage quits on his FPS game a date. Mingyu could have told you that his narcissistic classmate would be a shitty match for you, but what would ever stop you from making those decisions for yourself?

He pushes you off his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Gyu?”

“You.”

Your eyebrows come together as you tilt your head. Pulling in your feet to cross your legs, you ask, “What are you talking about?”

“Do you even know what you’ve been doing?” Before you can say anything, Mingyu shakes his head. “Don’t answer that.”

Right now, in front of him, is a girl who he’s loved almost his whole life. Someone who he’s made the most memories with outside of his own flesh and blood, yet someone who barely knows that he exists at the very same time.

“You know, you have the worst taste in people?” He takes a beat to see your face fall further, but he can’t stop for too long. “Every single time, you date people who can’t love you, and you’re broken every time, and I have to pick up the pieces and put you back together. And yet, you still keep dating the same shitty type of people. No matter what they look like, they have the same rotten hearts on the inside.”

It takes everything in Mingyu’s power not to let the tears pinching his eyes flow, so he keeps speaking. “I would think that you’d be satisfied, but you’re never satisfied. And you’re always looking for more, and,” he balls his hands into fists, “And I’m literally here, (Y/N). I love you, and I’ve loved you a long time, and you’ve never seen me that way.”

“W-wait, you can’t just say that, Mingyu!”

“Okay.” He says tersely. “Tell me you’ve seen me that way, and I’ll stop.”

He knows you would lie about it, and he’s not taking any of your bullshit today. The jaw drop is enough for him to continue. “I wish you did see me that way, and I’ll be honest with you, I still want you to, but if you feel anything toward me at all, I don’t want to date you.”

The knife in his heart twists further when the word “why” is whispered just barely louder than the sound of your breath.

This strong and tough exterior he planned on coming into the conversation with broke down all at once. “You need to work on yourself, (Y/N),” his voice comes out gently, especially seeing as you’re starting to cry for another reason other than what you originally came here for. He wants to hug you and say it’ll all be okay, but he can’t. “You need to know what it’s like to be alone.”

Mingyu takes his thumb, swipes it underneath one of your eyes, and repeats the motion with the other. “And you deserve better, but I also deserve better. If that means we'll always be friends and nothing more, then that's okay with me. But I also want you to know that if your feelings change while you’re working on yourself, then we can have a talk about it.”

He presses his lips to your forehead as he pulls you into a hug, fully knowing this may be the first and last time he’ll have the privilege of doing so. He knows if he pulls away from the hug first, he’ll shatter. Mingyu whispers into the shell of your ear, “I have so much love for you, (Y/N). Always have and always will, but you need to love yourself before anything else happens. But don’t forget that I’ll always be your friend A.”

please feel free to provide feedback, reblogs, or likes if you enjoyed reading this fic!

view my masterlist if you want to read more from me!

[rnm-magic-space-xsd]

Walking briskly through the corridors of the school hallway, stacks of paper in hand, Jumin grumbled to himself.

‘Being relied on is all well and good but for gods’ sake why do we still use these paper documents if we’ve got computers and save files to browse through at the tip of our finge—‘

“I reached into the sky,,

My love wouldn’t reach you”

Mid grumble, Jumin reactively froze in place. His eyes widened and his heart leapt at the sweet, melodious yet sorrowful voice tickling his ears in a faint yet hypnotic whisper. ‘—hrs..’

“The multicolored balloons,

Disappeared into the sky,

growing smaller and smaller”

‘I must. Find the source of this witchcraft. It’s too achingly raw to bear.’ - Jumin, very unlike himself, felt overwhelmed with the desire to find that beautiful soul that called to his troubled heart.

“I’m alone,

I had no destination,

but you gently held my hand.”

As if a burden was lifted from his heavy heart, his feet started to move, papers feathery light in his arms as he was swept closer and closer to the magnetically heartbreaking sound of the mystery singer.

‘It’s. It’s her.’ His eyes were locked onto her waltzing figure, “Shiri” the transfer student that caught his eye from the very first moment he saw her innocent, bright smile as he introduced her to the school the first day she arrived.

“Starless night,

I won’t look back on the shadow of my past,

I want to feel your warmth”

‘But her eyes..am I mistaken or’ his heart quivered with the bite of concern and an odd aching as he quietly watched her. ‘are these tears welling up in her eyes?’

“Tears are falling down,

even when I’m lost”

She danced, her emotions clear in their intensity as she clutched her fists at her uniform’s blouse, her singing voice filled with sorrow and pain; harmonizing with the music playing through her headphones, only to— !!

“J-Jumin???” So surprised at having been caught, she yelped his name in alarm, heart shocked still for a moment at his unexpected arrival.

‘Oh- Oh no. He heard me. Oh god, that’s so embarrassing. and I was acting so silly, dancing by myself. I must’ve looked a little foolish and childish; lost in my emotions and thoughts.’

“Uh. Um. I was just.” At a loss of how to reply to her guffawed dumbfounded look, and at having been caught eavesdropping on her private moment, Jumin’s eyes looked restlessly around him; searching for a change of subject to ease the embarrassment and awkwardness.

Only but a few moments of silence and awkwardness later Jumin’s eyes landed on the stack of papers in his hands, beginning to hurt him with their stacked weight.

“Hg-khgm!” Jumin coughed, walking closer to the piano in the music room, resting the papers upon it with care. Yes, the same room Shiri was just practicing and daydreaming in.

“So, uh. Shiri. What are you doing, singing here by yourself? It’s already past school lessons’ hours. It’s nearing sunset.”

Awoken from her frozen stupor and restless, anxious thoughts circling around her mind in an embarrassed mess; as well as gazing at Jumin’s beautiful figure walking right in front of her, Shiri was brought back to the reality of the moment thanks to the comforting bassy voice of his.

“Oh. I uh.” “I’m practicing this song for my choir club audition..I really hope you liked it? I-I don’t usually sing in front of people, but I really love singing. It’s, my favorite form of art, alongside the magic of emotions!”

‘Heh. Magic of emotions. Suits this daydreaming dummy to love the sensitivity and the arts. Just like Jihyun.’

Oddly enough, despite lightly insulting Shiri in his mind, he felt drawn to her emotionally colorful heart. So unlike his own, often times empty and barren.

Blinking peacefully and thoughtfully his lips curved into a small smile “Yea. Your voice is. It’s. It’s full of so much heart.” Gaining slight courage, Jumin’s gaze turned to Shiri’s deep and warm brown eyes, hoping to see her response to his compliment, only to instantly avert his eyes from hers, pale pink dusting his cheeks and ears.

“Almost just like the duality of my dear Elizabeth; her delightful warmth and gentle purrs ; combined with her sharp teeth and soft yet dearly painful claws.”

His instinct to hide his embarrassment at his inexperience with genuinely complimenting others; his awkwardly sincere comparison was what came out of his mouth, almost without thinking it through. An action he rarely ever makes around people other than his one and only genuine friend, and his Elizabeth.

Shiri was at first puzzled and oblivious at Jumin’s odd behavior; granted they don’t know much about each other, it being only a couple of months since she transferred.

It took her a few moments to realize that he was shy.

‘Haha, Jumin’s cute, being all shy like that. I suppose we are similar like that.’ Shiri unintentionally huffed a small breathy laugh. Quiet, yet loud enough for Jumin’s sensitive ears.

“Hey, are you laughing at me?” Jumin asked, a dead serious glare pointed at her.

“Oh, no ! Of course not, I just. Your compliment made me feel relieved and I couldn’t help but laugh my tension out!” She reassured, hiding the fact that she saw his bashfulness as cute, keeping it a small secret for herself.

“But Elizabeth huh? I remember you talking to Jihyun about her in one of our mid lessons break. She must be an absolutely adorable pet ! Could I see how she looks like? I’d love to get to know your cherished girl” Shiri moved in closer to Jumin, excited and undeterred by (oblivious to the danger behind?) Jumin’s previous defensive glare.

“Uh. Too close, too close. I uh- my phone is in the student council’s club room so I can’t show it to you right now but, I wanted to share that I. I used to sing too, when I was a kid. So I can understand how shy and nervous one can get before performing. I used to calm Jihyun down by pressing my fingers on his ‘union valley point’ and reassuring him.”

“Reassuring him? What did you used to tell him? You’re so sweet and caring! I didn’t know you used to sing! Your voice is very deep and comforting; I can understand how soothing your voice can be. But you were younger, so your voice was probably like the chirping of a baby raven, yet still quiet and mature.”

“Those who get to listen to your voice must be very blessed, I’d love to listen to your singing voice too someday.”

‘Perhaps when we are closer. I wish to get to know you more..’ Shiri thought as she gazed longingly, wishfully at her intertwined hands resting upon her knees.

From the moment Jumin cried for personal space, she sat by the seat of the piano chair, with Jumin leaning upon the piano’s side himself, close yet far enough for comfort.

Perhaps he craved it as well. A human connection, with someone he could actually trust and openly and fully be himself with; seen for who he truly is.

He didn’t quite understand what this ticklish feeling in his heart meant, but he liked being with Shiri. He hoped she liked his presence too.

[dxsturbia]

Because nobody has any idea how lucky they are that I am actually in this wheelchair

Are you serious you’re a little naughty eagle typical ass is it gonna spend years

Years

Telling me that I cannot sing and then following in my high school track

Are you kidding me

OK fine you had access to the theater that I didn’t get until junior year

When me and the girls worked on all the choreography

And held auditions for grease

My first ever curtain call you were one

My last you werent in the country

You could get up the Wests & Mr. Nordstrom’s departments

I never discouraged you I never deliberately tried to make you feel like you weren’t good enough you just weren’t

Which is probably why you ended up in theater and not music

Did you not think that was gonna come back around

If we had a qualified vocal teacher I wouldn’t have even made it into treble

You’re doing everything I ever tried including the guitar i’m going thru puberty still sharing aroom you’re listening to my cds

You’re in the next generation of my choir I guess

And you can’t even be nice to me



[becasbelt]

okay so now that I'm thinking about track chloe again I'm gonna share my headcanons for what extracurriculars the bellas did in high school

Beca: every single part of me wants beca to have been in marching band, but realistically I know that's just not possible. she probably did band (don't ask me what instrument I have Tried to decide before) in middle school and quit when her parents got divorced so that she could start living her angsty hermit dream. she mostly hung out with the skater/pothead crowd.

Chloe: as stated, she was both a track kid and choir kid. I think she started track because some of her friends were in it and then just stuck with it. she was 100% choir president her senior year and had SO many friends, all from different clicks in the school.

Aubrey: everything. this girl did not rest. choir, theater, soccer, student council, debate. and she was valedictorian. it's amazing she survived.

Amy: theater. canonically she was in "fiddler on the roof" in high school. and I think she also performed in community theater productions because she felt she was being "held back" in the school performances.

Emily: if there was a choir class, chances are emily junk was in it. mixed chorus, woman's choir, high level audition groups; she did them all. the best singer in every group and didn't even know it.

Cynthia-Rose: I hate to say it but... softball. her first girlfriend was the team captain, and then they broke up and she spent her senior year in choir, which she liked a LOT more than she thought she would.

Stacie: homegirl was a cheerleader. she dated the entire football team and the entire cheer squad. prom queen, pretty typical popular girl, and was also in like science club and proud of it.

Flo: I truly have no idea what kind of past flo had, but I like to believe she spent her formative years being trained by an intense gymnastics coach.

Lilly: she is a really good oboe player. also she'd sit in the corner of the band room and try to mimic the percussionists when they practiced.

Jessica: little miss choir president, but it took her a while to come out of her shell. every teacher's favorite student, and was definitely one of those "is a pleasure to have in class!" kids but in reality was just shy and anxious.

Ashley: I think she also did softball, but like at a low stakes club instead of the high school team. she has a letterman jacket for being on theater council, and probably did stage crew at least once.

[the-al-chemist]

Into the Light of the Dark Black Night

A/N: This short story was written as part of @drinkyoursoupbitch’s soundtrack challenge. For this challenge, I was assigned the track “Another Year Ends” from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It’s a mournful, sad piece of music with a hopeful undertone, and this is the story I have written to go alongside it.

The title of this story actually comes from another song, and that song is “Blackbird” by The Beatles. The blackbird theme is one that has recurred through my stories for Artemis; it is the song that she sings for her frog choir audition in Year 3, it is the music that inspired the penultimate chapter of Learning to Fly, and it was referenced when Artemis told Charlie a story from her childhood whilst staying at the Burrow for Christmas in Year 5. It is this story that I have written for the challenge.

Warnings: animal injury, mentions of/references to death, depression, grief, child neglect, and abandonment.

The sun was high in the sky, its beams reflecting on the bobbing waves and warming the umber cliffs. A breeze was rolling in from the sea and across the cliff tops, whipping the already messy dark hair of the little girl running along the path, a slim man following in her wake, his auburn hair graying with age.

Artemis Hexley had been living in Dorset with her great-uncle Newt and great-aunt Tina for several months now. It had been a temporary arrangement at first, Artemis’ mother having been too unwell to look after her after her older brother Jacob disappeared in the night back in November, but the longer Artemis had stayed, the less likely it seemed that she would ever return home to her mother’s house in London.

She knew that most children probably would have been upset by the idea of leaving both their home and their only living parent to stay with aging distant relatives, but Artemis was not like most other children; she was a witch. And, moreover, Uncle Newt was not at all like other relatives. He was a Magizoologist, a wizard who specialised in studying and caring for magical creatures, and a very good one at that. The house he shared with Aunt Tina was also home to a menagerie of creatures: three Kneazles, a particularly naughty Niffler, several Knarls that frequented the back garden, a fireplace full of Salamanders, and a herd of mooncalves that danced on the front lawn every full moon. And not only was Uncle Newt great at caring for these creatures, he always knew exactly where to find them.

Today, he was taking Artemis further along the cliffs to see the orchard where the Bowtruckles had been nesting in the trees. Excited, she ran ahead of him, every now and then alternating her quick steps with a clumsy cartwheel, until she reached the orchard, where the trees were swaying gently in the wind. She fell almost completely silent; Bowtruckles were shy creatures, and she would be unlikely to see any if she made any loud noises.

But, as she stayed quiet, she became able to hear a noise coming from the grass underneath a nearby tree. She frowned. It didn’t sound like a Bowtruckle, more like a bird, and not a very happy bird at that.

Artemis decided to investigate, and on doing so, she found herself to be right. Under the tree stood a small blackbird, chirping sadly as he held his wing out to his side. The feathers had been ruffled, and it looked like there was a cut on the wing, but when Artemis tried to get a closer look, the blackbird hopped away from her, looking frightened.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Artemis told the blackbird. “I just wanted to look at your wing. It looks like it’s been scratched. Did one of the Kneazles scratch you? Was it Mauler? He scratched me once, too. Look.” She pointed to her cheek, where she still had a small scar from the time she had tried to pick Mauler the Kneazle up without asking first. “Can I pick you up? I won’t hurt you, I promise, I just want to take you to my Uncle. He’ll be able to fix your wing for you so you can fly again.”

The blackbird didn’t seem overly happy about being picked up, but he at least didn’t scratch Artemis when she tried. She held him as gently as possible as she carried him back along the cliff path to Uncle Newt.

“What have you found, Artemis?” he asked her, crouching down to look at what she had in her hands. “A blackbird?”

Artemis nodded. “He’s got a poorly wing. Can you fix it?”

Uncle Newt took the little bird from Artemis and carefully examined it, all the while murmuring to it so softly that she couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying. Eventually, he looked up at Artemis and sighed.

“You can make him better again, can’t you?” she asked him.

“I can try,” said Uncle Newt. “But he will need some medicine to fix his wing, and he’s very weak. He’ll need a lot of looking after, and-”

”That’s fine. I can look after him. I know how to look after creatures now.”

But Uncle Newt wasn’t finished.

“And,” he said pointedly, “even if we fix the wing, he might just be too poorly to get better.”

“He will get better,” Artemis told Uncle Newt, sounding more confident than she felt. “I’ll make sure of it.”

She and Uncle Newt returned to the house having found no Bowtruckles, but with the injured blackbird. Aunt Tina had raised her eyebrows when she saw the bird in Uncle Newt’s hands, but she helped Artemis to find a box and a small towel to give the bird as a bed, and promised that she would keep the Kneazles far away from him. Uncle Newt showed Artemis what to feed the bird and how to give him the medicine, and let her stay up late to do it herself before bed, telling her that they would have to wait and see how the blackbird was in the morning.

Even with a late night, however, Artemis struggled to sleep. She was still awake - though she laid still and pretended not to be - when her great-aunt and uncle went to bed themselves, and in the very middle of the night, she snuck downstairs to check on the little blackbird.

“Hi,” she whispered to him. “It’s me again. Artemis. I wanted to make sure you were still here. Uncle Newt and Auntie Tina said that you’re really poorly and you might die, and I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be really sad if you do.” She gnawed on her bottom lip before continuing, “You know, my dad died the year before last, and my granny had to go and live in the home for old Muggles before that, and then my brother just ran away from home before Christmas, and my mum is so sad about it that it made her too sick to look after me. It would be really selfish and unfair of you if you died as well. So please don’t. Goodnight.”

With that, Artemis left the blackbird to his bed and returned to her own, making sure to close the door behind her so that Mauler couldn’t get to him. She tossed and turned most of the night, and woke up before the sun rose the next morning. The first thing she did was to run downstairs to see the blackbird, and was delighted to see that he had clearly listened to her pep talk the night before: he was still alive, and looking rather well.

If Uncle Newt and Aunt Tina were annoyed about being woken up so early, they hid it well. While Aunt Tina made a pot of coffee, Uncle Newt brought the blackbird into the kitchen and checked him over, and this time when he finished, he smiled at Artemis.

“Well done,” he said. “This little one is feeling a lot better.”

“That’s brilliant!”

“It is. We can take him back home once we’ve had some breakfast and gotten changed.”

“But we are already at…” Artemis’ voice tailed off as she realised what Uncle Newt meant. “Do we have to put him back in the orchard? Can’t I keep him as a pet?”

“A pet?”

“Yeah. I can teach him to carry my letters for me.”

“He’s a bit small to carry letters, honey,” Aunt Tina laughed, but the look she shared with her husband was one of apprehension.

“Not if I write them really, really tiny,” said Artemis, not ready to give up just yet. “I promise that I’ll look after him properly. Please can I keep him? Can I?”

She knew that Aunt Tina would be reluctant, but she was hopeful that Uncle Newt would agree to her request. But when she looked back at him with her eyes wide and pleading, he sighed and shook his head.

“You can’t keep him as a pet,” he said. “He needs to go back to his home.”

“He can have a new home here, like me,” Artemis argued. “He’ll like living here, he likes me. I fixed him so he could fly again.”

“Yes, and now he needs to be set free so that he can fly. He’s a wild animal, Artemis.”

“But the Knarls and the Mooncalves are wild, too, and they live here.”

“But they aren’t pets,” Uncle Newt explained with a soft, sad chuckle. “They choose to live here. The Salamanders chose to make their home in that fireplace, and the Mooncalves choose to dance on our lawn. We don’t make them do it, they do it because they want to. That’s what makes it so special.”

Artemis pouted. It would be special to have a blackbird carry her letters for her, too.

“Oh, honey,” sighed Aunt Tina. “Think about it this way. You wouldn’t like to be cooped up inside or working hard to carry letters for someone when there was a whole big sky for you to explore, would you?”

“I guess not,” Artemis said grudgingly. “If I set the blackbird free, will he choose to come back like the Knarls?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You won’t know until you let him go.”

But Artemis did not want to let the blackbird go. Uncle Newt shared another glance with Aunt Tina, before crouching down to talk to Artemis face-to-face.

“He is wild,” he told her. “Wild things need to be free.”

Though everything about him was gentle, there was a note of finality in Uncle Newt’s voice that made Artemis nod her head, even though she didn’t really want to. She barely touched the breakfast Aunt Tina offered her, and left for the orchard - dressed in her pyjamas and wellington boots - far less enthusiastically than she had the day before, trudging after her great-aunt and uncle with the cardboard box containing the blackbird cradled in her arms.

“I still wish I could keep you as a pet,” she whispered. “But I guess that even if you could deliver my letters, I might not be allowed to bring a blackbird with me when I go to Hogwarts. And Uncle Newt knows more about creatures than I do. If he says it’s unfair not to set you free, he’s probably right. I will miss you, though. It would be nice if you would come back sometimes. I am actually getting pretty fed up of people leaving me and not coming back.”

Inside the box, the blackbird let out a quiet tweet, which she assumed meant that he had once again heard her and was agreeing to do the right thing. She hoped that was what he meant, anyway.

When they reached the orchard, the sun was just starting to rise, and the line where the still waters of the sea met the gradually lightening sky was glowing orange. It was peaceful, with only a gentle breeze and the movement of the Bowtruckles stirring the leaves of the trees.

Artemis took a deep breath, placed the box on the ground where she had first found the blackbird, and opened the lid. At first, nothing happened, but then, with a series of merry tweets that almost made Artemis’ heart break, the blackbird took flight, rising up into the air, over the trees, and into the sky. The great big sky.

There really was a lot of it to explore, Artemis thought. And the blackbird would enjoy that, now that he was free.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Broken Heart Part 4–Troy Bolton

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Reader's POV

It's been three years since I told Troy how I felt and he turned me down. After that awful day, I couldn't face him. I spent the rest of the school year with my head down.

I went to class, played the piano in rehearsal, and then went right home. I spent my lunches in the theater, practicing the different pieces. Kelsie and Ryan tried to get me to hang out after school but I politely told them no.

I shut down. I wasn't happy. And nothing my friends tried to do to cheer me up worked.

After high school, I got a full-ride scholarship to Julliard for piano. I'm a junior and I've started looking for jobs after graduation. Over Spring Break, I talked to Ms. Darbus about being hired on as the music teacher and helping the theater department at East High.

After talking with Ms. Darbus, I ran a few errands for my mom. I was walking down the street when I heard someone say my name.

"Y/N?"

I turned around, my breath getting caught in my throat when I saw Troy at the end of the sidewalk. He smiled as he lifted his hand and hesitantly waved. I bit my lip, waving back. He must have taken that as a good sign because he walked over to me.

"It's nice to see you," he smiled.

"You too," I said under my breath. It was very clear that there was an awkward tension between us.

"How have you been?" He asked.

"Good. . . You?"

"I'm good," he chuckled. "How's Julliard?"

"It's been really great," I said, slightly relaxing a little more. "I actually just talked to Ms. Darbus about working at East High after I graduate."

"Really?" He asked. "That's amazing, Y/N. Would you take her job?"

"No," I said, smiling slightly. "I would help her with the music for the show but would mainly teach choir. I also might play the piano for the orchestra and band."

"That's incredible," Troy smiled. "I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks," I said, nervously tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. Silence fell between us, neither one of us knowing what to say. I looked away from him but could feel him watching me.

"I miss you," he whispered. I looked up at him and started nervously chewing on my bottom lip.

"What?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"I miss you, Y/N," he repeated. "So much."

"Troy," I stuttered.

"Can we go get coffee?" He asked. "I'd really like to catch up."

                              * * * * *

After we ordered and got our drinks, Troy didn't head to a table. Instead, he headed outside. I smiled when I noticed we were heading towards our park and our favorite bench. That smile quickly went away as we sat down.

Neither one of us said anything as we people watched. Sitting next to him on our bench weighed very heavily on me. I wanted to scream, cry, demand an explanation, and run away.

"I broke up with Gabriella."

My head shot up, my eyes wide when he blurted that out. "Because of me?" I asked under my breath.

"No," he quickly said. "Well, sorta."

He laughed awkwardly as he reached up and scratched the back of his neck. He sighed when he saw the look on my face.

"Gabriella thinks we broke up because of distance," he mumbled. He cleared his throat as he continued to explain. "But actually, I broke up with her because I couldn't stop thinking about your confession senior year. In fact, I've spent the last three years going over everything. I mean everything. I thought about when we met. I thought about our friendship. I thought about when things could've changed for you. I thought about whether things changed for me."

"Troy," I said, his name getting caught in my throat.

He looked away from me, watching as an older couple walked by. Without looking at me, he said under his breath, "I spent the last three years trying to get the nerve up to call you."

"And what would you have told me if you'd gotten the nerve?"

Troy looked up at me, something in his eyes changing. He slowly reached over and grabbed my hand gently, like he was waiting for me to pull away.

"I would've told you that letting you go senior year was the dumbest mistake I've ever made," he said with a small smile. "Like dumber than jumping into an audition with Gabriella."

He waited for me to laugh, but I didn't. I cleared my throat as I sat back, pulling my hand out of his. His smile faltered when I pulled away but only for a second.

"Y/N, the thing is. . . When you. . . I wasn't. . . It's not that I didn't. . ."

I waited patiently as he struggled to find the right words. There was a second when we just stared into each other's eyes. I broke the staring contest and looked down at my untouched latte.

"I think I'm in love with you."

I looked up at him and immediately tried to study him. Part of me wanted to believe him, but the other part of me held back.

"You think?" I whispered. "That's not. . ."

"I know that doesn't sound very reassuring," he sighed. "But I have spent the last three years thinking about you. I've been thinking about us and everything we've been through together. If you look at us from an outside perspective, I was a jock who protected his musical best friend. Until. . ."

He looked away from me, but I caught a glimpse of his regret. He continued without looking at me.

"Until I met someone who took my attention away from you. I never wanted. . . I never meant for her to replace you, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

When his voice broke, I reached over and grabbed his hand. He looked up at me, hope in his eyes as I intertwined our fingers.

"The whole year Gabriella and I did long-distance, I found myself wanting to talk to you more than her," he said without looking away from me. "I found myself thinking about you more than I thought about her. I realized that you were who I wanted in my life, not her. You were the one I wanted by my side. You were the one I loved."

My eyes filled with tears. Troy smiled as he reached up and caught a tear with his thumb.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," he whispered, his hand still holding my face.

"I didn't mean to cry," I whispered back. "I'm just a little confused."

"Well, maybe this can clear it up for you."

I held my breath as he leaned in, still holding my cheek. I gasped when his lips pressed delicately to mine. Troy slowly broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against mine.

"I know I'm in love with you," he corrected his earlier statement. He leaned back, finally dropping his hand as he whispered, "I know I don't deserve a chance with you. I know I messed up senior year. I know I don't deserve you. . ."

I cut him off by grabbing his face and pressing my lips to his. I felt him smile into the kiss as our lips moved in sync. The tears continued to stream down my cheeks as we kissed.

I have wanted to kiss Troy since freshman year. Finally being able to show him how I felt was unlike any feeling I've ever had. He let out a small laugh as he broke the kiss.

"I love you, Y/N," he said, slightly out of breath from the kiss. "I can't live without you. Please tell me I didn't lose you."

"You didn't," I whispered.

"Really?" He asked, his voice breaking slightly. I reached up and caught a small tear that had escaped.

"I love you, Troy," I said, my voice breaking. "I never stopped."

He smiled before quickly pressing his lips back to mine. I giggled into the kiss when I heard two coffee cups falling. We broke the kiss and looked over at our cups now on the sidewalk.

"I think we spilled our coffees," Troy joked. I laughed as I turned towards him.

"That was your fault," I whispered. "You owe me another one."

"How about I owe you something better?"

"Better?" I stuttered.

"A date."

[no-fate-but-what-we-make]

Hidden Talent | Frausto

Description: when overhearing music being played, the reader stumbles upon an unlikely pianist Warnings: Frausto being his usual grouchy self A/N: since Noah Gray-Cabey is a talented pianist in real life, I felt like I had to write this. I’ve only just finished season 3 on Netflix and don’t know what’s happened so far in season 4. I’d also be open to continuing this as a series if anyone is interested x Pairing: Frausto x reader (2nd person pov) Word Count: 819 Musical Notes: first song overheard ; Fairytale by Ludovico Einaudi

- - - Frausto racked the weights in the South Crenshaw High gym, letting out a sigh. He used the edge of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead as he waited for his heart rate to slow. It was just him and Spencer in the gym, the two of them exchanging looks and a fistbump as Frausto made his way into the locker room to change. 

He hoisted his duffel bag onto his shoulder, his sore muscles protesting and making him wince. He rubbed his wrist, flexing his fingers. They itched to play something other than football, and Frausto knew he couldn’t put it off anymore. He was good at football, sure, but he couldn’t deny his love of music either. 

The halls were empty which gave him time to think as he made his way down to the one room he avoided like the plague, unless it was one of those days - like today. The orchestra room door creaked as he opened it, the sound making him jump and look around, hoping nobody saw him. 

The piano had obviously seen better days, but an old piano was better than no piano. He set his bag down on the floor and made his way over to it, running his hand over the stained wood, making sure to avoid the parts that stuck out and could possibly give him splinters. He took a seat on the bench, placing his hands on his knees as he took a deep breath. 

The first note resounded in the room and in his chest. He gained more confidence with each note, putting the pieces of a musical puzzle together to create something beautiful. 

***

You could hear the piano coming from the orchestra room as you left the choir room. You’d lost track of time in there, working on your audition songs for Juilliard and a few other prestigious music schools, and you were about to rush out the door when something stopped you. 

It was the chord progressions to a song you hadn’t heard in a while, a beautiful classical-esque piece by a composer you knew and loved. When you peeked inside, you were surprised to see who was sitting behind the piano. 

The look of concentration on Frausto’s face made you pause, something like desire pooling low in your belly. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him play and it didn’t take long for you to figure out that he was playing without sheet music, from memory. 

“Whoa,” you whispered to yourself, awestruck.

The song stopped abruptly, Frausto looking up from the piano wide-eyed, his eyes meeting yours. “What the hell are you doing here?” He asked, his eyes narrowed. 

“I-I was just in the choir room finishing up and I heard someone playing and I wanted to know who it was. I didn’t know it was you, I swear.” You didn’t know why he’d shaken your confidence, but he had.

“You tell no one. Got it?”

“I won’t, but you’ve gotta do something for me.” You shut the door behind you, putting you and Frausto alone in the room. You held your hands up in surrender as he shot you another look. “It’s nothing weird. I just want one more song. What else do you know how to play?”

Frausto shrugged, looking away and for a moment you realized he was embarrassed. “I don’t…I don’t really know how to play. I just hear something and then I play it.”

You were speechless. Who knew that one of the football players knew how to play - and play by ear at that? “Want me to sing something? Or I could play something and then you could imitate it?”

“I don’t need your pity,” he grumbled, staring down at his hands.

“It’s not pity, Frausto. I’m actually in awe that you can play like that. I can only ever hope to play by ear.” He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours and you could see the confliction swirling in them. You hoped he could see the sincerity in yours as you looked back at him, only looking away when his stare got too intense. “So, um, will you play something for me?”

“Don’t really have a choice, now, do I?” He muttered, turning his attention back to the piano. 

Fairytale by Ludovico Einaudi resonated through the room and you found yourself awestruck as you listened to Frausto play. Your gaze flickered from his hands to his face, something about the way he sat and played turning you on.

The song ended too soon for your liking, Frausto standing up abruptly and collecting his bag. “Tell anyone and I’ll make your life a living hell.”

“I won’t,” you murmured, watching him closely as he sauntered out of the orchestra room, completely baffled and mesmerized by the grouchiest football player in the school with a secret that was now yours to keep.

[eggtoasties]

Chapter One: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

Counter point: Good counterpoint requires two qualities: (1) a meaningful or harmonious relationship between the lines (a “vertical” consideration—i.e., dealing with harmony) and (2) some degree of independence or individuality within the lines themselves (a “horizontal” consideration, dealing with melody).

It was illogical really, Kuroo thought to himself, having to take a mandatory arts class. He was an athlete. He would probably major in STEM or business the next year if he didn’t go pro. But here he was, staring at the course catalogue, deciding between different bands, choirs, art classes, and orchestra. Irritatingly, Kenma had finished his arts requirement last year, taking a video editing class which Kuroo thought was definitely cheating since he figured Kenma already knew the basics. Plus, he not-so-secretly believed that Kenma would benefit from another non-electronic hobby.

Sighing, he assessed each class. He knew he was tone deaf and did not want others listening to him sing. Plus, he’s seen the red cummerbunds and bow ties the choir had to wear for concerts and refused to give his teammates the blackmail fodder even if Yaku thought it looked “refined.”

To be honest, Kuroo didn’t know much about the arts. He only had the vaguest understanding of the differences between Watercolor 101, Figure drawing 101, and Oil Painting 101. While he thought of himself in the studio, palette in hand with an apron tied around him, working intently at the easel on the next generational masterpiece, he remembered when Kenma threw his pencil-drawn mockups of promotional posters in the trash and told him not to show the rest of the team.

While maybe he could try digital media, he couldn’t help but imagine himself against the romanticized backdrop of more traditional arts.

He had to choose between the several band electives and orchestra. He couldn’t do marching band—he wouldn’t be caught dead in those uniforms, wind ensemble had auditions he surely wouldn’t pass, jazz band had mandatory solos, but symphonic band was for rookies. ‘Beginners welcome,’ was typed out with an asterisk under the listing. But, so did orchestra. Doing a quick search to figure out the difference between band and orchestra, Kuroo weighed his options.

He took piano lessons from ages four through ten before finally convincing his parents to let him quit—wearing them down by crying every week and throwing a mini tantrum at daily practice—not that he intentionally did it as an elementary school student. But, even from an early age, he knew volleyball was it for him.

While he wasn’t well acquainted with classical music, he had grown up with it from his parents. Well, when they were irritated with the bickering matches between him and his older sister, their parents would crank up the car radio, drowning their yelling. His mom would tell him she used to play Mozart for him when he was a baby which is why he grew so tall—which he would always say makes no sense—and occasionally, a film score would make the hairs on his arms rise even when he was trying to focus on the scene.

So he decided. He’d enroll in orchestra for the year, make himself unnoticeable in the back, and fulfill his arts requirement so he could graduate high school and maybe apply to university. Plus, he figured, as he ticked the box next to orchestra, he’d finally be able to wear his suit his parents bought him, saying that he’d need it eventually.

Folding the course registration paper and sliding it into an envelope to be sent to Nekoma High, he stood up from his seat at the low dining room table and decided to go to Kenma’s, figuring they could squeeze some volleyball practice before summer vacation ended.

.

The first day of his third year was unextraordinary. He woke up tired, coaxed his bed head into something manageable, and started his commute to school, picking Kenma up on the way. Double and triple checking his course schedule on his phone and reminding his teammates that they all had to help out in advertising the volleyball club—well, maybe except Yaku—he tapped his toes with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

His classes were nothing special, most of them a continuation of the year before or courses he carefully picked with the advice of his seniors. But, walking towards the orchestra room at the far side of the building where all the music classes were, he felt a familiar rush of nervous adrenaline spike—not unlike the nerves before a big match. But this time, he couldn’t be confident in his own skills or rely on a team to back him up. Counting the room numbers until it matched the one on his registration, he found the room with its double doors propped open.

Striding in, the large open space was in various states of organized chaos. Other students were already moving chairs in uniform columns, two to a row, and were pulling instruments out of cases. Unsure of what to do, he immediately found the teacher.

“Hi Jouda-sensei, I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he introduced. “I’m new—where should I sit?”

“Hi Tetsuro-kun, it’s nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “Ah, yes I see you enrolled as a beginner.” Flipping through the pages on her clipboard she hummed, “Is there a particular instrument you’d like to play?” sweeping a hand across the room. “We could always use more violas, we have enough cellos, weirdly too many basses, but we could also stick you with the second violins?”

Kuroo didn’t quite know the difference between violas and violins but figured ‘second’ violins implied that there was also a ‘first’ violins group and that he’d be more likely to be able to hide in the back in a bigger group.

“Yeah,” he drawled out confidently, “I actually wanted to learn violin.”

“Okay, perfect. Here—” she motioned another student over. “Tetsuro-kun, meet Daisuke-kun.” Daisuke greeted Kuroo with a shallow bow and Kuroo responded with a head nod, mentally rolling his eyes at Daisuke’s subtle disapproval.

“He’s first chair of the second violins,” Jouda-sensei continued, “he’ll get you set up. Daisuke-kun, have him take one of the rentals and teach him the ropes. Today’s mostly getting people set up if they don’t have their own instruments and playing through potential setlists,” she explained while twirling her pen in her right hand. “Testsuro-kun, you’re our only new violin which means everyone can help you learn—take today to be comfortable with an instrument in your hands and observe your classmates!” she finished, walking away.

“I’m Sato Daisuke, a second year,” Daisuke reintroduced, emphasizing his year.

“Kuroo Tetsuro, third year,” he said smugly.

“Ah—okay,” Daisuke said standing straighter, “Kuroo-san, follow me,” turning towards the back of the room.

Chuckling Kuroo said, “Just Kuroo’s fine—you’re technically my senior here since I’ve never played violin before.”

Stuttering a bit and covering it with a cough, Daisuke nodded once. He stood in front of a wall of neatly labelled cubbies and pulling a black rectangular case out, he handed it to Kuroo. Explaining the rules of the rental and making him sign a form, Daisuke taught Kuroo how to properly tighten the bow, use rosin, clean the instrument, and taught him simple exercises to practice posture.

Fiddling a bit with the shoulder rest as Daisuke excused himself for a second, Kuroo ran through the exercises to get himself acquainted with the feel of the violin under his chin and a bow in his right hand. It was uncomfortable, he noted. His left shoulder wanted to scrunch up towards his face, his left wrist wanted to press towards the neck of the violin, and he couldn’t comfortably hold his bow. For the first time in a while, Kuroo felt out of his element—he felt as though his body couldn’t do what he wanted it to do. He felt awkward and unsure and the back of his neck prickled as he caught other students look his way.

Finally, Daisuke came back. Holding a thin blue book in his hand he explained, “This’ll teach you the basics of reading music. The thickest string on the left is G, followed by D, A, and E. Notes go in order of A through G and it just repeats.” Making sure Kuroo was following along, he continued. “So, If we start on the G string and put a finger down,” he moved over to place Kuroo’s index finger on the first tape, “what note is this?”

“A?”

“Yup, great. Follow the tapes for where you should put your fingers, I taught you how to tune and you need to study and practice every night so you’ll be able to partially follow along in class.”

Head a little dizzy with the new information but also proud to have understood some of the basics, Kuroo nodded. Daisuke took Kuroo to the back of the group, explained to a student who Kuroo was, then took his place towards the front.

Kuroo’s stand partner was a first year—Hayato. He’d been doing orchestra since middle school, didn’t take private lessons like many of the other students, but enjoyed orchestra enough to continue in high school as a hobby. Although a little awkward, Hayato was patient when giving Kuroo a more detailed explanation of reading music, since six years of piano lessons had completely left him, and set him up with basic exercises.

“You need to make sure your left wrist is down and relaxed,” Hayato said, tapping a pencil to Kuroo’s inner wrist. “Also, your bow grip is atrocious, but that’s one of the hardest things for a beginner.” He showed Kuroo how the bow was supposed to be held, stressing how it should look relaxed and curved.

Making small adjustments while Kuroo shakily moved the bow across the strings, Hayato said, “Sensei will probably have you come during study hall to practice, but you need to practice at home too or Sato-san and the concertmaster will probably chew you out.”

Bow stuttering crookedly across the strings, making Sato tut at him, Kuroo paused. “The concertmaster,” he asked disbelievingly. “What is that?” imagining some despotic conductor in long tuxedo trails and a clipboard.

Laughing at his confusion, Hayato explained. “The concertmaster is the first chair violinist. In orchestra they’re like the leader of the group. They tune the group, come out second to last before the conductor during concerts, make decisions on bowings, and everyone kinda follows their lead.”

Nodding to himself Kuroo said, “Okay, so he’s like,” he trailed off, “the captain of the team?”

“Exactly. Except she’s a third year like you and pretty well known in the music scene in our area, y’know.”

Frowning at his assumption he admitted, “Ah, okay so,” he trailed off, “concertmistress? I play volleyball, I don’t really know music.”

Hayato laughed and Kuroo raised a brow. “I mean obviously—you don’t really look like a violinist.”

Affronted Kuroo said, “Oi, what does that mean?”

“Kuroo-san, you’re like, huge,” Hayato squeaked out.

Trying not to preen, Kuroo waved his hand and turned his head towards the front of the class.

Jouda-sensei stood on her podium and tapped her baton on the raised stand in front of her. “Hi everyone, good to see all of you again. We have a few new faces so make sure to welcome them and help them out. I’m super excited for our potential set list this year, but before I pass out the folders, let’s a hear a few words from our concertmistress!”

With scattered applause and stomping, a girl rose to the podium as Jouda-sensei stepped off. Holding her violin and bow in her left hand she beamed at the class. Briefly introducing herself and sharing her excitement for the year to make music with everyone, Jouda-sensei interrupted her return to her seat.

“For the first rehearsal, how about you formally tune us?” Jouda-sensei offered.

“Aw, no it’s okay—some people are beginners and all the section leaders already took care of it right?”

Next to her, her stand partner threw an eraser at the podium making her scowl. “Just do it, her stand partner complained,” drawing laughter from the class.

Giving her partner the finger, hidden from their sensei’s view, she laughed good naturedly and straightened her shoulders.

All of a sudden, Kuroo noted, the atmosphere in the room changed. Students were no longer whispering to each other, playing random tunes, or shuffling in their seats. Everyone’s eyes were on her at the podium. She offered an open palm and nodded towards the back of the room. A single note penetrated the silence.

She swept her hand towards the back and Kuroo was suddenly flooded with the sound of the deep and rich brass section. After a few seconds, she repeated the process and the woodwind instruments close to Kuroo in the back began to tune.

Hayato leaned towards Kuroo. “Before concerts and rehearsals everyone should’ve tuned beforehand. This more for last minute checks and also a show for the audience. The order and how many sections tune at once is usually decided between the concertmaster and the conductor—Kuroo-san, we’ll tune last.”

Nodding in appreciation, Kuroo turned his attention back to the podium. The woodwinds trailed off and after a beat of silence, she nodded once again for the tuning note to be played and she waved her hand towards the cellos and basses at her right. The gravelly resonance of the strings filled Kuroo with a strange sense of full contentment and marveled at the size of the basses, whose strings seemed to be quadruple the thickness of his own.

Finally, the concertmaster gave one last nod and tucked her violin under her chin. Hearing the drone of the pitch, everyone around Kuroo began to tune. Unsure of what to do, he stumbled to mimic Hayato who was adjusting his tuners. Since Sato Daisuke already tuned his instrument, Kuroo just played open strings and waited for the rest of his section to stop. Glancing to his left at Kuroo’s right hand, Hayato whispered sharply, “Keep your pinky curved!”

.

After tuning, folders were passed out to each student, filed with sheet music. Hayato organized the sheets on their stand.

“Since you’re on the inside—the left hand side of the stand—your job is to turn my pages,” he explained. “It’ll be good practice to see if you can follow along even if you can’t read, but no worries if you want to spend today just watching and listening.”

Thanking Hayato and teasing when he fumbled in embarrassment, Kuroo spent the rest of class in awe. Although the group was seeing the pieces for the first time, he couldn’t help the goosebumps on his arms as the orchestra came together. Even when he heard Hayato miss a note, noticed when the conductor would glare at a section, or when they had to stop and regroup, listening to individual instruments try come together as one left Kuroo wanting to be a part of it. From the inside, he watched as bows moved in unison and fingers slid up and down the necks of stringed instruments. He was hyper aware of the instruments behind him providing support to the main melody, and leaned towards them to catch their individual parts.

He set his gaze towards the front of the room and watched the concertmaster. Powerful yet graceful, her bow made sure movements across the strings, fingers moving quickly and accurately. Her body swayed with the music and her face, unlike Hayato’s, was not one of extreme concentration. She seemed focused as she watched the conductor and indicated entrances to her section through her body, but despite the multi-tasking, it was clear to Kuroo that she was having fun.

She trusted her section to follow along, for her stand partner to flip the pages at the right times, and for the rest of the orchestra to do their parts. When Jouda-sensei made the class begin again, she would lean towards her stand partner and share whispered giggles and Kuroo caught the glint of shiny pink polish and traced the way her hair fell across her shoulders.

He knew what being a captain was like—he had been captain since he was voted in at the end of his second year and he wondered how long she’d been playing for, how much she practices, and how she encourages her section. He wondered what the differences and similarities were between leading a team and an orchestra were—the differences and similarities between them, even.

At the end of class Kuroo promised to himself to practice a little every day to be able to play with the group and hold his own. For the rest of the school day, he idly hummed the melodies they had played in class and replayed images of bows and hands moving in unison.

.

In the club room before practice, Kuroo came in with his violin case. Greeting his teammates, he started to change.

Loosening his tie and pulling his sweater over his head, Kuroo heard Lev ask about his case. Swapping his school top for his practice one, Kenma responded.

“Kuroo’s taking orchestra for his arts credit.”

“Why would you take a band credit, you should’ve taken sculpture like I did,” Yamamoto exclaimed proudly.

“Your sculptures were ugly,” Kenma said evenly, over the sounds of his video game.

Before Yamamoto could respond, Fukunaga menacingly shook his water bottle at the two of them causing Kenma to turn his back and hunch defensively over his game.

Narrowing his eyes at Kenma, Yamamoto turned his attention back to Kuroo who was idly flipping through the practice book Daisuke had given him.

“Yeah Kuroo, band classes are so much work when you’ve gotta learn the instrument, why’d you enroll?”

Before Kuroo could respond Yaku jumped to Yamamoto’s side and jabbed him. “Band and orchestra are two different things you uncultured swine!”

Doubled over and grasping his stomach, Yamamoto glared tearfully at his senior, then directed his glare towards Lev who was slapping his knee in laughter.

“Kuroo-san,” Lev shouted, “can you play us something?” he asked excitedly.

Gaining the interest of the rest of the team, everyone crowded around Kuroo, nodding in unison. He rubbed the back of his head in uncertainty.

“I’ve literally just learned how to play. I don’t know if you’d really want me to.”

“We really want you to!” Lev said, encouraging him to open his case.

Begrudgingly, Kuroo went to his violin and briefly explained how to setup and tune, to the amazement of some of his teammates. Even Kenma peered curiously over his video game in the corner. He tucked the instrument under his chin, carefully held his bow and placed the hair on the A string and played. Kuroo focused intently on ensuring that his bow grip was loose, but secure, that his pinky and thumb were curved and that his bow was making straight lines across the string.

As Kuroo looked over to his teammates, he noticed Yaku’s shoulders starting to shake while he pointed a finger at him.

“I-Is that the best you can do?” Yaku nearly screamed, howling in laughter. “You’re not even moving your f-fingers!”

To Kuroo’s embarrassment, the rest of the team tried desperately to hold in their laughter and Lev deadpanned, “That kinda sucked, senpai.”

Stuttering out an indignant scoff, Kuroo’s brow furrowed, “I told you I just learned this today! A-and posture is important you heathens!” shaking his bow at Lev and Yaku.

[five-rivers]

Snow and Song Chapter 5

About five seconds after Danny registered the huge crowd of people gathered in the park (and why were they there?  Had there been some kind of event he forgot about?), it began to snow.   Danny looked around himself in alarm.  He was often insensitive to temperature changes (and a few other things, according to his sister), but it wasn’t nearly cold enough snow.  It was September.

He looked up.  There weren’t even any clouds.  

A snowflake, perfect and crystalline, stuck to his eyelash.  

Alright.  When something weird and unnatural started to happen in Amity Park, usually there was a ghost involved.  All Danny had to do was find the ghost causing it to… snow…

Oh.  Right. He was a ghost that could make snow.  

He was an idiot.  He hadn’t even noticed his core activating.  His cheeks flushed with cold.  This was so embarrassing.

Wincing, he looked back down at the crowd.  Only about a tenth of the people had phones in their hands, winking camera lenses pointed up at him, but that was more than enough.  He felt entirely too visible.  

… Which he could fix because he was a ghost, darn it, something that he kept forgetting about tonight.  Berating himself, he adjusted his visibility down to zero and flew away.  

Almost at once, all the birds took off, the sound of wings obscuring whatever the humans down below were saying.  

Danny didn’t stop until he got home, trailing snow all the while.  He was not looking forward to tomorrow, but for tonight, maybe, he could forget what had happened.  

He went human, phased off his clothes, laid down on his bed, closed his eyes, and started to-

“Maddie!” shouted Jack.  “The ghost-kid is on TV again!  He’s in the park!”

“Oh, good!  Go start up the GAV!  This time, we’ll catch him!  I’ll be with you in a minute!”

Danny let out the breath he had been holding since his dad startled him from his doze in a long sigh.  He resigned himself to being woken up at least once more that night.

.

.

.

The first rays of sunlight filtering through Danny’s window brought with them something that would have chilled Danny to the core if his core weren’t naturally frosty.  

Music.  

He peeled his eyes open slowly, grudgingly, because it was still September, and sunrise was still quite a bit before the time he had to get up in the morning.  Hoping he was hallucinating, he trudged over to the window and pulled back the curtains.

Ah, yes.  He hadn’t quite expected to find a bunch of cultists standing outside his house with a boombox, playing back a rather scratchy version of Tale as Old as Time, but, somehow, he was unsurprised to do so.  What exactly were they attempting to accomplish here?

One of the younger (about six years old) cultists waved up at him.  Resigned, Danny waved back, then let the curtain fall back down.  

He rubbed his eyes.  Normal teenagers didn’t have to deal with cults that worshiped them as a god.  Even that dude from Nazareth was a full adult before he got hit with the heavy stuff.  

(Yeah, because it wasn’t at all a sign of megalomania, mental instability, or good old-fashioned insanity to compare himself to that guy.)

(He didn’t want a cult, darn it.)

What did they want, anyway?

He got dressed and started downstairs.  To his horror (but again, not surprise) he heard more music emanating from the kitchen.  

“What are you guys doing?” Danny asked.  

“Oh, morning, Danno!” boomed Jack.

“Shh, shh,” said Maddie.  “We need to go over that last part again.  There are pancakes on the stove, sweetie.”

“Oh,” said Danny.  “Thanks. But, really, what are you doing?”

“Analyzing the sound patterns of Phantom’s voice!” said Jack.  “We missed it before, but he must have a low-level mind control power!  Just like that Rockstar ghost!”

“Sneaky post-human ectoplasm glob,” muttered Maddie. “That’s how he’s got so many people on his side.  He’s brainwashing them.  But don’t worry, sweetie.  As soon as we figure out how he’s doing it, we’ll be working on a cure!”

“Well,” said Danny, trying not to sound bitter. They had made him pancakes. “That’s news to me.”

.

.

.

Danny stepped out of the house and sighed in the general direction of the cult.  

As always, acknowledging them in any way shape or form proved to be a mistake.  They rushed at him.  

“Daniel Fenton,” intoned today’s leader, a man wearing robes colored in an approximation of Phantom’s suit.  His beard was… interesting.

“What?” asked Danny.  If only there was a way to skip through awkward conversations like this, like there was in video games.  But, no, life was like one, huge, un-skippable cutscene.  Tragic.

“Last night, our Lord Phantom gave us a message. A message, and a divine task.”

Danny was pretty sure he’d remember that.  “What task?” he asked, resigned.

“To spread his word through song!  And you, his prophet, his chosen, his blessed consort, shall reveal his intent upon the stage of the Casper High School Musical!”

“I’m begging you, call it anything but that.”

“We will do anything to make the Casper High School Musical go well!  We are at your command!”

“Please stop picketing my house and harassing me on the way to school.”

“We have fine members of our choir here to audition for you!  Please take word of their worthiness to our Lord Phantom.”

Several of the cultists began to sing.

“Danny!” called Jazz from the driveway.  “Stop feeding the cultists, or we’re going to be late for school!”

.

.

.

“So,” said Sam.  “The Ghost Watch feed blew up last night.”

“I know,” said Danny.  “I feel so stupid.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” said Tucker.  “But we really do have to put some time aside to test whether or not you really do have a pied piper ability.”

“I made it snow while I was singing,” said Danny.

“Ah.  We’ll have to look into that, too,” said Tucker, making a note on his PDA.  “Who wants to bet that the ‘Phan Club’ will try to incorporate last nights performance into the play somehow?”

“That’s not funny,” said Danny, closing his locker. “Guys, what if I accidently mind control the audience?  Or start a snowstorm inside?  The cultists are already on top of this.  They were outside my house this morning.”

“Again?” said Sam, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, again.”

“What did they want?”

“They seem to think that there’s going to be some kind of revelation in the play,” said Danny.  He caught the look in Sam’s eye.  “Sam.  No.”

“Sam, yes.”

“Cults are not a toy,” cautioned Danny.  

“Not the way you’re using them, they aren’t.”

“Seriously, Sam.  No matter how much you want to change the world, do not use a cult to do it. It never goes well.”

“Christianity started off as a cult.”

“And would you say that went well?  I’m asking you this as a Christian.”

“Are you a Christian?” asked Tucker. “I’ve never seen you in a church. Can you go in a church? Have we tested that?”

“I—What?  I’m not a demon, Tucker.  I went to church, uh…  Last Easter. I can totally go in a church.”

“You had to think of that for an awfully long time.”

“What about a synagogue?” asked Sam.  “Or a mosque?”

“I don’t know.  But you’d think that if I could go into a church, that’d mean I could go into the other ones.”

“But what if you couldn’t?” asked Sam.  “Would that mean that religion is more right than the others?”

“Or more wrong,” said Tucker, “since Danny is a good guy.”                                                                  

“I—” started Danny.

“PHANTOM!” screamed Wes from down the hall, interrupting whatever revelation Danny could potentially have had.

“Oh, great,” said Danny.  “I’m not Phantom, Weston!”

“Kids,” said Miss Lyn, poking her head into the hallway.  “Please don’t shout in the halls.  Class is about to start.”

“I have proof, this time!” crowed Wes.  “I have video.”

“Oh, no,” said Danny, with perfectly flat affect. “Are you here to harass me with yet another badly photoshopped, grainy, vertically filmed, twenty-second clip of me ‘transforming’ into Phantom like some kind of anime heroine?”

Wes reared back, face coloring and nostrils flaring.  

Danny would feel worse about what he had said, if half the videos in Wes’s last ‘Fenton is Phantom’ presentation hadn’t been exactly that.  Tucker had made several of them and stealthily dropped them in various chat rooms for Wes to find, as something halfway between a joke and an exercise in misdirection.  

As soon as Wes had included one of those in his presentation, it was doomed to be a laughingstock.  Again, Danny almost felt bad.  

“No!” said Wes.  He puffed his chest out.  “From Ghost Watch!”

“Uh huh.”

“I kind of feel like we’d be hearing about it from more than just you,” said Sam.  

“Yeah,” agreed Tucker.  “If the news decided Danny was Phantom’s dead twin or whatever, you’d think some of his groupies would be swarming.”  He pointed at a pair of Phan Club members who were having a sedate conversation near the water fountain.  “Where are the groupies, Wes?”

“Did you not learn your lesson from the beauty pageant?” asked Sam.  “Or Egypt?”

“I don’t know, didn’t you learn yours from Desiree?”

“Who’s learning what from Desiree?  Because you should ask her for a better naming sense.  I mean, you just copied.  Lame.”

“You’re talking to me about copying?  You vegans are the copiers!  Vegetable burgers, tofurkey, where does it end?”

“With the abolition of the cruelty of MEAT!”

At this point, most people would have started edging away from Sam and Tucker’s patented and infamous meat vs. veggies argument.  However, Wes had long since proven himself to be of sterner stuff, and Danny wanted to hear what he was on about.

“Guys,” he said, “guys, it’s not working.  He’s still here.”

Sam and Tucker turned back towards Wes.  “Bummer,” said Sam.  

“Yeah, Wes, why do you have to be such a bummer?” asked Tucker.  

“Let him speak,” said Danny, magnanimously, twirling his hand.  

Wes glowered.  “Well, now I don’t want to,” he said, mulishly.  

“Come on, Wes, what’s the video, don’t leave us in suspense!”

Wes attempted to glower harder but failed.  Grudgingly, he held up his phone, which did, indeed, play a video from Ghost Watch.  Danny watched himself singing for several long seconds before returning his gaze to Wes.

“I’m not sure what this is supposed to prove.”

“The song, you idiot!  It’s from Beauty and the Beast!  And I know the drama club gave you that music.”

“A movie that thousands of thousands of people have watched and know the music for?”

“That doesn’t matter!  You’re the only one who has any reason to sing it.”

“You mean, other than everyone else in the drama club?” asked Sam, bored.  

“Or anyone who likes Disney?” said Tucker.  

Wes opened his mouth to make some kind of riposte.

The warning bell rang.  

He closed his mouth.  “I’m watching you, Fenton!”

“You and everyone else,” muttered Danny as Wes retreated down the hallway, pointing at him.  

Why was everyone around him so ridiculous?

.

.

.

“We’re doing Snow White, not Beauty and the Beast!” howled Razor, baring his teeth at the hapless Phan Club member that had suggested adding ‘Tale as Old as Time’ to the song list.

“If you guys had taken that bet, I’d have so much money right now,” said Tucker.  

“Students, please,” said Mr. Lancer.  “We can’t have any actual copyrighted music in our play. Not without paying for it.  And I’m not negotiating with Disney.”  He looked into the distance.  “Not again.  Never again.”

Danny did not want to know the story behind that, but nevertheless, he had to ask… “Are you okay, Mr. Lancer?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Fenton,” said Mr. Lancer.  “Thank you for asking.  In any case, my lovely drama students!  Today, we are going to do our first round of auditions!”

“But, sir, we haven’t finished the script, yet!” protested Mikey.

“Right you are!” said Mr. Lancer.  “But I have found that things go more smoothly when we have people already in the main roles.  There’s less… outright sabotage and script jockeying.”

“What does that even mean?” whispered Samhain (aka Kevin) loudly.  

“People trying to change the script to fit a certain person so that person gets the role,” said Paulina.  “Or exclude a certain person.  Which I would never do, Mr. Lancer.”

The covetous glare shot in Danny’s direction indicated that Paulina’s words might have been less than truthful.  

Mr. Lancer chuckled.  “I didn’t think you would, Miss Sanchez!”  He began writing on his whiteboard.  “Now, we already have our Prince Snow White, our Princess Charming, and our Evil Queen.”  He nodded at Paulina as he wrote the roles on the board.  “Now, we need our seven dwarves—”

“Ghosts!”

“Excuse me, yes, ghosts.  Thank you, Mr. Baxter.  Our Huntsman—”

“Or woman!”

“Yes, thank you, Miss Thunder,” said Mr. Lancer. “Huntsman, or Huntswoman.  And… Let’s see…  Snow White’s parents, for the prologue, Princess Charming’s retinue, and… I think that’s it.  Alright, let’s start with the ghosts.”

“Shouldn’t they have names?” asked Mia.  

“Well, sure,” said Mr. Lancer.  “But we can’t use the Disney names.  You’ll have to come up with your own.”

“Phantom!” screamed Paulina.

“Here we go,” said Danny, burying his head in his hands.  

“You want to bet that we’re going to wind up with your whole rogue’s gallery?” asked Tucker.  

“If you need money, Tucker,” said Sam, “you just have to ask.  Rates on my loans are very reasonable.”

“Isn’t usury against your religion?” asked Tucker.

“Nope,” said Sam.  “Not at all.”

“I am incredibly against this development,” said Danny.  “The cults are going to have a field day.”

“Ember!  Ember! Ember!”  Chanted the punk goth crowd, which had split off from the larger goth subgroup.

“I am somehow even more against this development,” muttered Danny.  “Mr. Lancer! I don’t think it’s a good idea to include a ghost who gets power from people saying her name!”

“Shut up, Fentonnage, what do you know about ghosts?”

“My parents study them.  I know a lot.  More than I ever even—”

Danny narrowly dodged the workbook Dash flung at him.

“Mr. Baxter!” scolded Mr. Lancer.  

Sadly, when everything shook out, Danny did not get his way.  One of the seven ghosts was named Ember and was going to be played by Star.  Because why not?

“At least the Box Ghost and the Lunch Lady aren’t on the list,” said Sam.  

“But ‘Hamlet, father of Hamlet,’ is,” said Danny.  “Why does that bother me more than Ember?”

“Because you hate Shakespeare?”

“No, I don’t,” protested Danny.  “Shakespeare is a perfectly nice person.  I just don’t like how his writing is taught in schools.”

“You’re going to break Mr. Lancer’s heart saying stuff like that,” said Tucker.  

“He wrote love poems to boys.  Why do they skim over that?”

“Excellent point, Mr. Fenton!” exclaimed Mr. Lancer, who had somehow materialized behind them.  “Shakespeare was definitely bisexual.  I wi—”  The teacher stopped.  “Nope, can’t use that word.  It would be nice if the state let me teach it like that.  Along with the crossdressing.  School board won’t let me.”  He shook his head.  “Dale Baxter. Someday, someday he’ll lose an election. Eventually.”  He took a deep breath.  “Next time we meet, we’ll be doing auditions, okay?  I want you all to think about what parts you would like! And, Miss Gray, I’d like to have a word with you about your role in our production, alright?”

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Music for the Soul

Summary: Soulmate AU where the song your soulmate is thinking of gets stuck in your head. 

This fic is inspired by and gifted to @yellowpaintpots.

Notes:  canonical, this is S2 E6 and a little beyond but it’s not exactly like the show obviously.

AO3

Kurt Hummel was used to not fitting in. At McKinley High, he was often an odd man out. He did partner projects alone, he held his tongue around bullies and had no one to complain to, and most days, he had an entire lunch table to himself. No one sat with the kid in weird, homemade clothes unless there was no other choice. 

What kept him going was music. He had one earbud in as he walked down the halls. Choosing from playlists his mother used to listen to, Broadway soundtracks sung by people still performing on stage today, and to the thrill of his father, rock classics. If Burt Hummel had passed anything onto his son, it was his music tastes and the fantastical idea of soulmates. 

The image of a white knight coming to save him by serenade was one that haunted him before he fell asleep. A boy, which little eleven-year-old Kurt held close to his heart, picked out by the universe meant just for him. Even when he started to find the fantasy a little too cheesy, it kept Kurt going until he found the glee club.

No one could touch him or change him because there was someone out there who would love him exactly the way he was. 

The New Directions were a hot mess when they started, of course. The 5 of them weren’t winning any competitions when they first found themselves in the choir room but they were five misfits who finally had friends. People who understood the passion of music and an adult who shared that same passion and would hopefully guide them to their dream futures. 

Just months later, they became a mixture of a dozen sophomores and freshmen with a Sectionals win under their belt all ready to face the Dalton Academy Warblers in a few weeks. With Regionals looming over them, glee had become much messier than usual. With plenty of in-fighting about solos and song choices, the choir room was always a jumbled, loud mess. That is until Mr. Schue came up with the idea for a school musical. It was taking their minds off of Regionals for the time being.

Kurt was all too happy to be auditioning for a role instead of sitting in the back row wishing he had a shot at a solo. His voice was too unique for Ohio. But someday, he knew, it would get him to Broadway. He held that thought close to his heart while tuning out Rachel’s insistence bickering.  

Yesterday, Mr. Schue had decided their school musical was going to the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Kurt loved cult classics as much as the next person but he wasn’t sure how Mr. Schue had gotten this approved by Figgins. It seemed too risqué for high schoolers. 

He only hoped whoever his soulmate was enjoying the soundtrack he had stuck in his head this week. 

Kurt planned on auditioning for Riff Raff. Already putting mental outfits from his closet to wear. The wound of Mr. Schue assuming he’d play Frank N. Furter based solely on the fact that he was gay was still fresh but his audition was going to blow everyone away. 

He had chosen “Dammit Janet” for his audition despite it being a Brad and Janet duet. Quinn, who was hoping for Magenta, was going to be his partner. They had joked about the main roles already being off the table before auditions; it was clear Mr. Schue had chosen Finn and Rachel for the leads. It was hard to be upset when Quinn had instantly offered to do a joint audition with him. Their voices went so well together and Kurt liked spending time with her. 

Ever since Kurt and Mercedes had their stint as Cheerios, they had gotten closer. The three of them even had a weekend sleepover this past Saturday. Mercedes had dumped the Cheerios but Kurt stayed on and Quinn had just gotten back on the squad after her dismissal last year. Coach Sue had them sing during practice last week and Quinn was waiting for him after their showers with the suggestion of a double audition song. 

They had been having rehearsals in the auditorium during their shared free period and twice after glee club on days when it wasn’t already reserved. As the day came closer, Quinn offered her house to practice in since her parents were rarely home and so Finn wouldn’t become Rachel's spy. Though, Kurt assured her Finn was much too engrossed in video games to bother with their rehearsals. 

Since they increased their run-throughs, Kurt’s had one song in his head all morning. In case the lyrics weren’t already ingrained into his head, he had his own little concert in his head. Just after lunch, that changed. A mere 3 hours until his audition after school his soulmate’s music had taken root. As much as Kurt was willing to bow down to the queens of pop, what he wouldn’t give for 5 minutes of something other than Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream”. This bubble gum pop song had gone from ‘oh, that’s a good song to scream in the car’ to ‘if I hear it one more time, I’ll rip my ears off’ fairly quickly. 

It hadn’t helped that his brain went from one song on repeat to another. 

As he sits in geometry, he tries to hear Mr. Finnegan’s explanation of arcs but his brain has other plans. 

Let you put your hands on me in my skin tight jeans. 

Kurt knows it’s just a song but the image is so clear in his head. 

Smooth, soft skin. Obviously, someone who used lotions regularly, Kurt expected nothing less from his soulmate. Neatly trimmed fingernails so they wouldn’t catch on Kurt’s pants when fingers trailed up to cup his knee. The grip would be teasingly light. He never let his fantasies get too far. Especially outside the privacy of his bedroom. In all honesty, even when he was alone in his bed at night envisioning the same kind of scenario, Kurt didn’t really know what came next. He wasn’t even sure what kissing really entailed. 

What if his soulmate is ready for...certain things...Kurt’s not even to verbalize yet. What if he’s imagining their first meeting very differently then Kurt, who’s hopeful they’ll have coffee or a meal together before they do anything besides maybe hand-holding. The touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets, unless you ask Katy Perry it seems. 

He spends the rest of math wondering what the boy with Katy Perry in his head must look like. Kurt wonders if his soulmate wears bright colors like his idol or maybe Katy is a secret shame that he’ll only share with Kurt. 

…

Blaine liked fitting in. He enjoyed the uniform for many reasons. One, he thought the blazer looked stylish. It was also nice knowing what you had to wear every day, one less thing to worry about people judging you for. Plenty of people at his old school picked on him for his bow ties but at Dalton, everyone had neckwear. The standard blue and red striped tie. He liked how neat it was; there was a certain way to wear said uniform. 

Everyone was the same here. No typical hierarchy of jocks and cheerleaders. Only the Warblers stood out simply because everyone knew them. 

How could you forget a group of boys singing acapella at all hours of the day?

 Blaine might joke that they’re teenage rockstars but really they are just a group of talented guys who liked to sing. 

The Warblers were the first real friends he ever had. 

When he was still attending public school he held tightly to the idea of his soulmate since it seemed hopeless to wish for friendship. Not when he was being harassed for a sexuality he wasn’t sure of yet and being pushed to the ground in the parking lot for it. 

But a soulmate was a guarantee. Everyone had one. By the time Blaine reached eighth grade, he knew. All of those middle school bullies had used words Blaine didn’t quite understand until that moment. 

He was surrounded in the parking lot after school having missed his bus because someone had stuck gum in his curls during last period. That was the day Blaine started to seriously consider investing in some gel. Maybe that would prevent some bullying. Anyway, he was surrounded, being literally kicked around by a group of soccer players and friends. 

Other students had gathered to watch the so-called fight but Blaine thought their chants would only grab the attention of a teacher or so he hoped. No one came quickly. He had enough injuries by the end for his mom to insist on a trip to the ER. A big black eye and sprained his wrist along with plenty of bruising on his limbs. 

But he honestly didn’t remember getting hurt beyond the initial pushing to the ground. When the bullying got bad like this he pulled out those daydreams. This time around it wasn’t this blurry image of hand holding, there was a boy. Blaine hadn’t seen his face but his voice was soft and comforting, inviting Blaine in. There was an outstretched hand just out of reach for Blaine to take. Blaine knew then. His soulmate was a boy. 

When everything was over and he was being released by the doctor, all he knew was there was some boy built perfectly for Blaine just waiting to be found. Waiting for him. 

He hadn’t even been upset by his injuries because he was sitting with these thoughts of ‘how do I come out to my parents?’ 

Instead of deciding that day, he kept those daydreams close to his heart for the next year and a half. Until the issue of high school came out and Blaine didn’t want to go back to public school. To his surprise, both of his parents took it well. They were more concerned for his safety than his sexuality. Together, they decided on Dalton. A private school with a zero tolerance policy for bullies. That was that. 

He still had his doubts at Dalton. Was he really good enough to be a lead soloist let alone go onto Broadway someday? Could he make it out of Ohio? In those moments, Blaine still came back to his soulmate. Someone, no matter what came, Blaine would have by his side. 

When he imagined his soulmate, Blaine could never truly figure out what he’d look like. All he saw was that outstretched hand. Usually, people could draw up a picture in their heads based on the music they heard. 

For Blaine, the genre of music didn’t help. His soulmate was clearly someone with mixed taste. 

Today’s selection was...a musical. Blaine wasn’t familiar with the characters Brad and Janet but he had looked it up at lunch. Some kind of cult classic people went to see in the weeks leading up to Halloween. It was October so it made sense for the soundtrack to be stuck in his soulmate’s head. Blaine wondered if he had gone to see it, wondered who he saw it with. 

The Warblers thought he was crazy. Imagining that his soulmate was off with some other person. It was rare to date seriously before meeting a soulmate but Blaine always told them the same story of his parents. Both of them had been in very serious relationships before they met. Hell, his mother had been engaged. Neither of them thought they’d meet their soulmate, which was also fairly rare but had happened.  

When they met, they didn’t drop everything to be together. The wedding was put on hold but his father hadn’t broken up with his girlfriend right away. His parents wanted to be together only if they agreed with the universe’s choice. 

Blaine knew his dad had been wary of his mother’s music taste. Pam had been deep into her metal phrase in her early twenties. His dad, Robert, was not a fan. He loved classical music. Forever dooming Pam to hum music without lyrics meanwhile Robert was cursed with “nonsense yelling” as he called it. Lucky, both of their music tastes had shifted over the years to have more overlap. Though, Blaine and Cooper had been subjected to dinners with a mixtape of Def Leppard and Bach. 

They got together in the end, which was the important part, but what if they hadn’t chosen each other? What if Blaine’s soulmate was deeply in love with someone else and he’d spend the rest of his days loveless and alone?

When he voiced these thoughts aloud, his friends usually told him what a downer he could be, which tended to shake those fears away. If his parents, different as they were, still fell in love it would happen to him too. It was just a matter of when. 

…

The next day at lunch, Mercedes was fretting over her soulmate. 

“What if he’s super young, Kurt?” 

“What makes you think that?” He asked, stabbing his salad. 

“He’s got The Backyardigans theme song in his head again,” she sighed. “He got to be like 7. I’m just not comfortable with that.” 

“It’s an age gap for sure,” Kurt agreed, but he’s fairly sure Sam Evans was singing that song after PE today, “or maybe he just has younger siblings. Don’t let your only-childness cloud your judgment.”

She hummed in agreement and pushed her tater tots around. 

It was sort of a hard way to figure out your soulmate unless they were obvious about what music they had playing in their heads.

Some people, like Mr. Schue, we’re pretty obvious. He had been singing in the auditorium when Ms. Pillsbury found him. It was a pretty clear-cut match. As far as Mercedes was concerned, Kurt is sure she’ll overhear Sam’s humming soon enough. 

He doesn’t want to spoil anything for his best friend nor does he want to be wrong. Soulmate meetings only come once in a lifetime. 

Well, the first soulmate meeting that is. 

There are plenty of people, like his dad, who lose a soulmate too soon and are gifted another one later in life. Kurt was so happy when he introduced Burt and Carole at parent-teacher conferences. They had just been listening to the Wicked soundtrack in the car ride over and Carole Hudson did not strike Kurt as the type of person who knew “I’m Not That Girl” by heart. 

“Are you nervous about auditions?” Mercedes asked. “The list goes up today after glee.” 

“Not at all like,” he shrugged, “I think Quinn and I did well.” 

“Oh no, Kurt, we crushed it,” Quinn said, sitting down with her lunch. 

He smiled at her. Quinn went on to compliment Mercedes on her audition, having heard part of it from outside the audition. She would’ve been inside with Kurt to watch but Coach Sue wanted to meet with her head Cheerio about their upcoming competition. From what Quinn had told them via text, Sue was going all out at practice today. 

“She doesn’t want us to be late,” Quinn said. “That list better be up right away.” 

“We should change before glee,” Kurt suggested. 

“Good idea.” 

Once Quinn had sat down the rest of the New Directions filed in. With interlocking pinkies, Santana and Brittany wandered over taking the last two seats available. 

“Cheerios practice is gonna be hell, hope you’re up for the challenge Hummel,” Santana said. 

He shot her a short glare. 

“Kurt always understands the assignment, Santana,” Quinn quipped back. 

Brittany nodded in agreement smiling at Kurt from across the table. She gave him a small wave half hidden by her lunch tray. In return, Kurt waved back just as shyly. 

They had an interesting friendship. Kurt had kissed Brittany before. He was sure it hadn’t phrased Brittany as it had him. After all, she had kissed almost every boy in school. Some kind of record, he thought. 

They sort of dated for like a week when Kurt was trying to convince himself he was straight. When he firmly realized he was kidding no one, not even himself, they broke up. Since then, he and Brittany had remained close. They were both Cheerios and in the glee club, it made sense. 

He was happy to have Brittany in his life, even if that meant Santana by extension came with her. Santana was fine outside of the public eye. If the Unholy Trinity incited Kurt to their sleepovers, Santana was a different person. She put up a front at McKinley, extremely similar to the one Kurt attempted when he dated Brittany. 

Few are privy to why she did this, Quinn and Kurt knew and he was fairly certain Mercedes did as well. She was very perceptive that way. Brittany was Santana’s soulmate. It explained so much about their relationship. Always in sync, completing each other perfectly, a literal better half.

Honestly, it gave Kurt so much hope that everyone’s soulmate was like that. A missing puzzle piece. 

He really hoped his soulmate listened to more than just Teenage Dream because the lyrics were slowly creeping into his everyday language. 

Usually, Kurt found himself hyper-focused in glee club. He got an energy boost just from walking into the choir room. Like a light switch turning on. His focus wasn’t always on whatever lecture Mr. Schue was pursuing, sometimes he watched his fellow glee clubbers (catching himself up on drama just by sideways glances), or mentally mapping out his next performance. 

Today, Kurt wasn’t able to do any of those things. With the soundtrack of Teenage Dream (again) in his head, all he was thinking about was the center of a bulletin board with the cast list for The Rocky Horror Show on it. How far down the list was Riff Raff? How many names came before his?

Someone was snapping in front of his face. Kurt shook himself from his daydream to find Mercedes.

“Boy, wake up!” She said, “cast list is about to go up.” 

Either glee club had gotten shorter or Mr. Schue was putting it up early. 

…

Blaine didn’t really understand why the Warblers were concerned. Doing an improv performance was not new to them. In fact, Blaine had done three already this school year and he was only a freshman. 

The first one he did had been way back in September, he hadn’t even been an official Warbler yet. Warbler Tradition said: all potential freshman recruits were required to perform again after their auditions with the whole group. It was a solid way to see if they fit in well with the other established Warblers. Blaine fondly remembers vibing along with the older Warblers and fellow potentials to a medley of Pink songs. None of the freshmen had solos but it was still a fun time. 

At the time it seemed like all of Dalton fit into the choir room and surrounding hallways but in reality it was the entire freshman class. Improv performances weren’t something any middle schooler had seen before but the upperclassmen of Dalton knew the Warblers had plenty of improvs to come for the rest of the school year. The first one was special. Just for the newbies. 

Three days after that performance, Blaine had gotten word that he was to be a new Warbler and two months after that he was granted his first solo. Now, he was slowly becoming their go-to soloist for almost every performance for an audience. Blaine had become a vital part of all rehearsals for the most part. He was honored by their commitment to him honestly and he loved to sing however, a week and half of preparations was a tad excessive. Still, he walked his way to rehearsal positive that the council would have at least five points to discuss before they actually started singing. 

He walked into the choir room shaking his shake fondly and smiling at the Warblers already present. 

The council were always first to arrive. Together. Then it was a mixed bag of who followed. Usually Trent was there, punctual as always, and Blaine took the seat between Trent and Jeff. 

The room was mostly full already. 

Nick came in shortly after Blaine and sat across from him immediately asking if there had been a pop quiz in Stanton’s class earlier and was rather relieved to find out Jeremy was a filthy liar, who liked to start trouble. Before Jeremy could get on Blaine’s case about being overly sincere, the meeting began. 

Wes banged his gavel and welcomed everyone before gesturing for David to read off last meeting’s notes. Once the talking portion of the meeting was over, they pushed the furniture aside to make room. 

...

A week later Kurt was happy to have one musical under his belt but thankful the performance run had been short. If you thought the New Directions were dramatic during competition weeks, it was nothing compared to their musical rehearsals. 

Now, Mr. Schue was having the brilliant idea to host a boys vs girls competition. Of course, Kurt hadn’t wanted to work with the boys. They were sure to exclude his musical talents and he doubted he could get them to agree to any of his costume suggestions. 

This was hardly a challenge. It was bland and they had done it already. 

Kurt was sitting in the back of the choir room pouting. Yes, pouting. Full on arms crossed, head down, and bottom lip puffed out. Until, Mr. Schue had an actual brilliant idea, Kurt’s suggestion of course, to spice things up. 

The boys did not appreciate Kurt’s six hours of work putting two posters together. Even with the assignment to bring more feminine qualities into their performance, the boys ignored his input. So, when Puckerman suggested Kurt spy on the Warblers, he was thankful for a reason to leave. He packed up his projects and headed home to change.

When Mr. Schue found out who their competition was, Rachel and Kurt did some googling. He had seen the all-boys school uniform and was fairly sure he could replicate it with clothes he already had. 

He pulled some looks from his closet. Once satisfied he looked up directions to Westerville. 

Dalton was huge. It looked like a museum. How on earth was Kurt going to find their choir room? He hoped there were signs inside or a map. 

As he walked down a spiral staircase much too pretty to be in a school, he decided to just ask for directions. He was going to get lost if he kept walking without help. 

When the boy he stopped turned around, all Kurt could think was ‘I’d love to put my hands all over you.’ Which was a ridiculous thought to have because he didn’t know this boy and where had that even come from? Oh right, Teenage Dream was still playing in his head. Thanks, Katy. 

If only his soulmate knew he was using this song to fantasize about running off into the sunset with another boy. 

…

Blaine loved being in the spotlight. Wes would say it was because he didn’t get that kind of attention from his parents but that simply wasn’t true. Well, unless Cooper was around; he always pulled focus when it came to their parents. Older sibling privilege, he assumed. 

But he was running late. He stayed behind in class to ask a question which turned into his teacher rambling. Didn’t he know the Warblers had a performance today in the senior commons and Blaine was their lead singer? 

He was checking the time when someone stopped him on the stairs. 

A beautiful boy. Unlike anyone Blaine had ever seen before. He almost missed his name because he was caught up in memorizing his face. 

There was something said about being new, which Blaine doubted since he wasn’t in uniform, and Blaine mentioned a shortcut he knew of. 

It wasn’t really a shortcut. More like the long way to the Senior Commons but less crowded. Everyone was making their way to the Warblers and Blaine wanted as much time alone with Kurt as he could get. 

He wanted Kurt’s full attention. It was no wonder he instantly wanted to show off. Teenage Dream fit his vocals perfectly and Kurt was an excellent audience. In fact, Blaine was set on serenading him. 

He had no way of knowing that exact song had been playing all day long in Kurt Hummel’s mind. 

Afterward, Blaine lost himself in a group hug from the Warblers but Kurt’s beaming smile caught his eye. He pulled Wes and David aside, confirming his own suspicions that Kurt was spying on them first before convincing them to invite Kurt for coffee. 

The four boys sat at a table. Kurt seemed very nervous now. Blaine wasn’t sure if it was because he had been caught or something else was going on. In the end, Blaine thought it best for just him and Kurt to have a conversation. Not at all because he wanted alone time with him. 

This clearly wasn’t the time or place for romance. 

Once they were alone the whole tale seemed to flow out of Kurt: the name calling, locker shoving, his biggest bully. Blaine could relate. 

Sometimes he felt phantom pains in his right leg from Sadie Hawkins. At first, Kurt scoffed when Blaine began sympathizing. If he were Kurt, he might not believe himself. 

Private schoolboy bullied? Blaine sure didn’t look like someone who lacked friends. It was fairly common knowledge that Dalton had a zero tolerance policy for harassment. So, he explained. As brief as he could about his own experience with public school bullies. 

Kurt and he seemed to have more in common than a love for music. 

He doesn't have any plans to see Kurt again though Blaine has plenty of ideas on how they could get together. Coffee at the Lima Bean. Old musicals were playing at the revival theater. Maybe another high school was putting on a play this weekend. All Blaine needed was a good enough message to ask Kurt out. He drafted plenty but none sent. 

After school, Blaine knew Kurt might need an extra push. He was pretty sure classes at McKinley were done for the day. 

He sent a single word. Less second-guessing that way. 

Courage. 

Then, he walked to the library to start writing an essay on Lord of the Flies for English. 

However, he found himself unable to concentrate. Usually after a performance, Blaine had the song stuck in his head for at least a day or two afterward. In addition to humming in the weeks of rehearsals, of course. Instead, Blaine found himself thinking about Start Me Up by the Rolling Stones and oddly Livin’ On a Prayer. Both songs he thought better suited his father or Cooper’s tastes. It was a mashup of the two songs like his soulmate was hearing them simultaneously. 

When he started thinking about his soulmate, there was a clear picture of someone. It didn’t take long for Blaine to bring up those blue eyes and the soft complexion of Kurt Hummel. Which was crazy thinking. He had no idea if Kurt was his soulmate. 

Soulmates tended to be around the same age but just because Kurt was also in high school meant nothing. By that logic anyone at Dalton could be his soulmate too. 

During his brief time with Kurt this week, Blaine heard no music from his mouth. In fact, Blaine had done all the singing. Even with half his brain saying he was nuts to think Kurt was his forever, Blaine couldn’t let the thought go. 

…

Blaine’s text comes in in the midst of the girls’ performance. A wonderful mashup and excellent costumes. Tina had texted Kurt about the leather jacket idea early this week. He was very proud of how they managed to pull the looks together in such a short time. It was impressive. 

Altogether, Kurt was feeling great. The boys had their rehearsal, apparently their performance was turning into an apology. Kurt wasn’t sure what they had done to Coach Beiste but apparently, she was quitting. He and Blaine were texting periodically now. No one knew it but Kurt was surely developing a huge crush on the Warbler boy. 

Then, he confronted Karofsky. He didn’t want to feel the same regret Blaine did—no one messes with the Hummels. 

It seemed like mere hours but in reality, it was days, Kurt was enrolled at Dalton and saying goodbye to the New Directions. 

He was full on having a Vanessa leaving Troy moment here. Kurt Hummel has got to go his own way. 

God was he nervous to start at a new school. In the middle of the school year too. Being the new kid was going to be hard but not as difficult as staying at McKinley would be. 

When Kurt was greeted by Blaine’s smile outside the office on his first day, it made Kurt relax. At least he already had a friend here. 

It isn’t until they’re walking down the hall together—Blaine insisted on escorting Kurt to his first class—that Kurt noticed Blaine was humming.

“Is that High School Musical?” Kurt asked. 

“Oh, um, technically it’s the sequel.” 

“What about us…” Blaine sang, “what about everything we’ve been through?” 

“What about trust…you know I’ve never wanted to hurt you?” 

Blaine chucked. “Cheesy but true. Such a good movie.” 

“We should watch it sometime,” Kurt suggested. 

Instantly, he wanted to take it back. He’s been told he can come on too strong. Especially around cute boys. 

“I’d love too!” Blaine said. “I have it on DVD.” 

Kurt doesn’t see Blaine again until their one shared class of the day right before lunch. He sits across the room from Blaine during history but next to him at the Warbler’s lunch table. 

Most of the group has the same lunch so Kurt is introduced to them before his audition later this afternoon. 

“Nervous?” Wes asked, “you shouldn’t be.” 

“Yeah, from what Blaine's told us you're a great singer,” Trent added. 

“He’s barely heard me sing,” Kurt replied, poking Blaine’s arm. 

He only sang one line of a song to the other boy today. 

“Well…” Blaine rubs his neck abashedly. “I might’ve watched some New Directions videos on YouTube.” 

“Oh, I forgot Rachel uploaded those.” Kurt tunes to the other Warblers then, “I hope I don’t disappoint.” 

After lunch, Blaine walks Kurt to class again. “Between you and me, you’re a shoo-in.” 

“Really?” The Warblers were such an esteemed group. Not at all like the disorganized New Directions. They had also been a glee club for far longer. 

“Really.” 

***

Blaine has had High School Musical songs in his head all day. Whoever his soulmate is, at least he’s got good taste in Disney Channel original movies. Then as the Warblers were preparing for Kurt’s audition, the song switched. An Evita song. 

His soulmate sure did love musicals. Blaine was rather happy about that. He could already picture them sitting on the couch cuddled under a fluffy blanket with any number of classic musicals laid out before them. Arguing over if it was too soon to rewatch Moulin Rouge and whose turn it was to make popcorn. 

They’d be in a big city apartment. Somewhere where no one cared if they were gay. All anyone wanted to know was how they discovered they were soulmates. Their origin story. 

From that point, the daydream grew fuzzy. Blaine couldn’t come up with that meet-cute story. It hadn’t happened yet and nothing his brain could come up with would ever match up with his future reality. 

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the choir room. 

The room was buzzing with excitement. It wasn’t every day the Warblers auditioned someone mid-semester. Of course, Kurt had special circumstances but the group was notorious for never breaking tradition. 

Blaine tried to focus but it was difficult without Kurt at his side. Lately, he had been distracted whenever Kurt wasn’t around. All Blaine could hear, despite the loud room, was the song in his head. 

I had to let it happen

I had to change

Then, Kurt walked in and music started to play. For a split second, Blaine thought he was imagining the words from “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” coming from Kurt’s lips. Surely he hadn’t chosen the same song as Blaine’s soulmate had in their head. He knew it couldn’t be his imagination when Trent leaned over and whispered to Blaine how much he loved this song. 

Like lightning striking a tree, Blaine had a realization. Kurt Hummel was his soulmate. 

Oh god, what was he going to do? 

His skin was burning as if it was burned away like bark. He drooped in his seat desperate for water to put himself out with. To put a stop to the tingling sensation bubbling up under his skin. 

All he wanted to do was reach out and touch Kurt. Some part of his brain was able to override that thought. He couldn’t ruin this audition for him. There was plenty of time to spend with Kurt after this, Blaine had all the time in the world to talk with his soulmate.

Soulmate.  

Never did he think he would find his soulmate this soon. Gosh, they were only teenagers. They had so much life to live together. This was rare, special, to find your soulmate so quickly in life. Blaine would cherish it, he’d be thankful for this gift for rest of his days. 

But how in the hell was he going to tell Kurt? It had to be romantic. Blaine always thought it would be when he finally came face to face with his soulmate, his one true love. There was so much work to be done and so little time to do it. Now that Blaine knew, he didn’t want to spend another day without Kurt knowing too. 

He used to dream about running dramatically in slow motion towards each other and embracing just as it started to rain, which of course led to a fabulous first kiss in the sudden storm. But Blaine knew how unlikely that would be. 

He’d just have to build a new fantasy, which he thought would be easy to do if Kurt was his so-called Prince Charming. Whatever happened was going to outweigh everything his imagination had come up with thus far. 

First and foremost, he’d had to sit through a discussion of this audition, which he was barely able to pay attention to. All he wanted to do was walk up to Kurt, cup his face, and kiss him. After Kurt was finished, the council dismissed him. Blaine knew he’d find Kurt just outside the choir room because they had plans afterward but now he had no idea how he was going to sit through coffee with Kurt and not tell him. 

“He’s very good,” Trent said, nudging Blaine. 

He nodded in agreement. It seems most of the group concurred, Kurt was a good fit for them. 

Kurt Hummel was the perfect fit for Blaine too. Even if he didn’t know it yet. 

***

Kurt didn’t consider himself to be a good reader of social cues especially when his own emotions were involved. See, Finn Hudson and Sam Evans. Crushes on straight boys never ended well. With Blaine, he swore things would be different. 

They were friends, classmates, and hopefully, soon they’d be fellow Warblers. Kurt was not going to mess this up. Even if Blaine was really cute and friendly and super kind and understanding. There was so much to love about Blaine, Kurt found it hard to find something he didn’t like. 

He had found focusing on his dislikes of a person kept his feelings at bay. Like how messy Finn could be really shut down any romance fantasy Kurt had drawn up. Except, Blaine didn’t dye his hair like Sam, he was completely organized (Kurt had seen his dorm room; spotless), he was modest and genuine. 

It made sense that everyone at Dalton wanted some of his attention. Blaine embodied Kurt’s idea of a gentleman and then some. 

After his audition, Kurt sat outside the choir room waiting for his results. The council would discuss with the full group, release them, and regroup tomorrow with a vote. Kurt was waiting for Blaine to be dismissed because Blaine had promised to buy him a cup of coffee. 

Some of the Warblers who were leaving had some pretty nice things to say about Kurt’s performance. Just general praise which soothes some of his initial nerves. Mostly, he just wanted Blaine to walk out with a big smile on his face. That boy couldn’t keep a secret. Kurt would know if he was in or not just by looking at his face. 

Kurt was joined on his bench by a boy who introduced himself as Duncan. 

“I was super nervous after my audition. I just got in at the beginning of this year so I know what you’re going through.” 

Kurt felt his shoulders drop in relief. As much as Blaine tried to assure him the audition would be perfect, Kurt felt like he couldn’t relate much as the star of the glee club. Back at McKinley, Kurt rarely had center stage. Here, Blaine always had everyone’s attention. 

“That’s actually great to hear,” Kurt said, with a slight chuckle. 

“Seriously, Kurt, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I’m a little concerned they’ll kick me out just to have your voice,” Duncan teased. 

They keep talking about what it’s like to be a new Warbler since Duncan is positive Kurt will be getting good news shortly. He offers up some pointers to get on the council’s good side. 

“I loved your song choice by the way, so weird because Evita had been in my head all day.” 

It feels like someone’s dropped an ice cube down his back. He sits up quickly. 

Oh, Kurt thought, is this it? 

“You did?” He must’ve heard wrong. There’s just no way. 

“Yeah, I love that musical,” Duncan confirmed. 

Could it be this easy? He wondered. 

“We should hang out again soon,” Duncan told him, “I’d love to get to know you. Newbie Warblers gotta stick together.” 

Kurt gives Duncan his number before the other boy wanders off. Before Kurt can get too deep into any fantasies of his soulmate, wondering if that soulmate has just left him or not, Blaine comes out from the choir room. 

“Hey you,” Blaine greeted with a big smile. 

“Are you allowed to give me any inclination?” 

He shook his head but was still smiling wide which made Kurt feel like good news was in his near future like Duncan had said. Kurt was telling Blaine how long he had practiced the song over the weekend with Rachel and Duncan reassurances when Blaine blurted, “Duncan Samuels?” 

“Yeah, we just met.” 

Should he tell Blaine about them being soulmates or wait until he was sure? 

But Blaine just nodded. Something was clearly bothering his friend. For now, Kurt was going to let it go because he was sure Blaine would come to him if he wanted to talk. He didn’t want to force it out of Blaine. 

Kurt couldn’t even get Finn to talk to him during their warm milk chats at night. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull the information out of Blaine if he tried.

“Anyway,” Kurt said, continuing his previous line of thought, “Rachel has this whole stage setup in her dads’ basement.” 

“I don’t find that hard to believe based on everything you’ve told me about her.” 

After that comment, their coffee date is back on track, Kurt doesn’t bring up his potential soulmate meeting. 

***

Duncan Samuels was his lifelong nemesis. As far as Blaine was considered his life began when he figured out Kurt was his soulmate and if Duncan was going to interfere with that they were now enemies. Since their coffee date yesterday, Blaine hasn’t heard a word about Duncan but he also had yet to see Kurt today. They only had one class together after lunch, which Blaine was on his way to now. 

Kurt saved him a seat and delivered the news. 

“Duncan and I are going for coffee today.” 

Those words were devastating. 

In normal circumstances, Blaine would’ve asked Kurt why he wasn’t going to rehearsal but of course Kurt wasn’t a Warbler…yet. Blaine knew the Warblers were going to announce Kurt’s membership at the end of day, which meant this was the last rehearsal Kurt wouldn’t attend. 

So instead of a calmly said, normal statement, Blaine spent the next minute freaking out. 

Duncan was the worst! He was going to steal Kurt away from him before Blaine ever got the chance. Well okay, the rational side of him thought, Kurt isn’t being stolen he’s going willingly. 

“That’s nice,” he finally said. 

There was no way for Blaine to stop Kurt and honestly no reason to try since Duncan posed no threat to Kurt. He didn’t need a protector. Blaine knew they were soulmates and he’d find a way to tell Kurt later on. At the end of it all, Kurt was his soulmate. He just knew it. 

“Are you free when I get out of rehearsal?” 

“For you?” Kurt asked, “of course, I’ll probably still be in the cafe.” 

“I’ll come find you,” Blaine told him. 

Still, all throughout Warbler rehearsal, Blaine’s attention was elsewhere. He needed to get out of here and meet up with Kurt. Wes knew it too because he pulled him aside at one point while David ushered the guys into a new arrangement.

“What’s up with you?” He asked, “I need you focused for competition.” 

“I will be,” he vowed. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

Blaine looked back at the other boys but they were already harmonizing. 

“It’s Kurt.” 

Wes smiled. “Don’t worry about him. He’s in, I can’t believe we have a countertenor on our team now. We’re going to wipe the floor at regionals.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Wesley. McKinley already knows what a talent Kurt is, he won’t be a surprise to them,” Blaine reminded him. 

“Ah, but they didn’t utilize his talent,” Wes said, “it’ll shock them to see Kurt in the spotlight.” 

Wes patted Blaine’s back and guided him back to the group to finish up rehearsal. 

Blaine couldn’t help but check his phone again before he tuned back into rehearsal. He knew Kurt was getting coffee and that’s why he wasn’t answering his phone. 

One of the best things about Kurt was when you were with him everything else was put aside. Blaine was sure if things got really serious, Kurt would shut his phone off entirely to prove a point. Right now, it was annoying as hell. Blaine needed to see a reassuring text that Kurt wasn’t running off into the sunset with Duncan Samuels. 

What if his phone was turned off because the two of them were standing at the altar? Everyone turns their phones off in church. 

He really really needed to talk to him. Blaine didn’t want to be the type of soulmate that holds onto that information too long. It’s like he’s lying to himself not being with Kurt. 

Once rehearsal was finally over, Blaine rushed over to the on-campus cafe where he knew Kurt would be. He had to be there. 

When Blaine pushed his way through the door, he saw Kurt was sitting alone nursing what looked to be a cup of tea. When Blaine approached him he could tell it was Chamomile. 

“Can I sit?” 

Kurt nodded but didn’t say a word as Blaine hung his bag across the back of the chair and removed his blazer. 

He expected a question about the Warblers, perhaps an inquiry about his status to become one but nothing came. Kurt wasn’t even drinking his tea. 

“What’s wrong? Did Duncan say something to upset you?”

“I’m fine, Blaine,” Kurt said, “Duncan didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me as usual.” 

Blaine didn’t understand. 

“Am I that unlovable?” 

“What?” 

Kurt was the most kind, sincere person he knew and Blaine had only met him a few weeks ago. He was most certainly lovable considering Blaine fell for him in just under 3 weeks 

“I can’t really blame him,” Kurt continued, “it’s not his fault we aren’t soulmates.” 

“You thought he was your soulmate?” 

Maybe telling Kurt wouldn’t be too difficult after all. 

“It’s just he made this comment yesterday that made me think…but of course I got too ahead of myself again and really I should know by now,” Kurt mumbled the last bit, “nothing ever goes to plan.” 

“You can say that again.” 

This cafe wasn’t a romantic candlelit dinner. He didn’t have rose petals to scatter around. There was no champagne to toast. But he had the most important thing. 

Blaine reached across the table to grab Kurt’s hand. “Think of a song.” 

“Why?” 

“Just do it,” Blaine said. 

Kurt’s face was scrunched up in a “I’m confused but I’ll trust you” kind of way. 

As soon as the song hit him, Blaine opened his mouth to sing, “this could be the start of something new…it feels so right to be here with you.”

“How did you—?” 

Blaine smiled at him. “Pick another song.” 

“Your cares and troubles are gone. They'll be no more from now on.”

His mouth opens slightly. 

“Your turn,” Blaine said, “ I want you to sing what comes to mind.” 

Wasn’t the best way to prove they were soulmates to test each other? 

Blaine wanted Kurt to have his own moment of realization even if he engineered it. He didn’t want their “how-did-you-know” story to be him informing Kurt about their connection. Instead, he wanted to tell people about listening to Kurt’s Warbler audition and thinking how odd it was to know the song he was going to sing before it began. Kurt’s story would start with a laugh because he imagined someone other than Blaine as his soulmate the very same day. 

And wasn’t that just so silly of him? 

Rather than have Kurt just sing to him, Blaine harmonized with him. This was the proof. He’d sing everything Kurt could come up with and vice versa. 

“But baby, can't you see there's nothing else for me to do? I'm hopelessly devoted to you.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said. “We’re….”

He nodded. 

Before Blaine even realized it, Kurt was out of his seat leaning towards him, they’re kissing. Kurt’s fingers are curved around his chin and his other hand is tickling the curls at the back of his neck. The tiny wisps of hair that always escape the gel by the late afternoon. 

Blaine would happily keep his curls loose if it meant Kurt would keep his hands in his hair always. Especially, if it meant they’d never stop kissing. 

Eventually, Kurt has to pull away. They’re still close enough to feel each other’s breath. 

“Soulmates,” Blaine whispered. 

It had been quiet while they kissed like everything else in the world just stopped. All the sounds of Dalton came rushing back all at once. The students in the halls, coffee orders being called out, and the shuffling of chairs as people came and went. 

“When did you know?” Kurt asked, sitting down again. 

Blaine pulled his seat around so they were closer and Kurt immediately reached for his hand. 

***

3 months later. 

Blaine hadn’t been upset to lose to McKinley at Regionals. How could he have been when he got to sing with his soulmate in front of a crowd? Their duet was so in sync and the crowd could tell. He doesn’t think he ever received such a loud applause. 

Blaine had wanted to just be in that moment forever—staring into Kurt’s eyes hearing the words in his head just before they were said aloud, gripping his hand before pushing him into the spotlight to soak up the audience’s love. 

No, Blaine was happy about Regionals. The Warblers had worked hard on the set; their second place trophy sat on the right corner of the council’s table at meetings now. What Blaine was concerned about was Kurt’s leaving. 

His dorm room was empty now, the last suitcase zipped up. Blaine was sitting on his boyfriend’s mattress taking in the last moment that Kurt was a Dalton student. 

“I’ll miss you too, you know, a lot,” Kurt said from the doorway. 

“I know,” Blaine replied, “it’s just sad.” 

Kurt took a seat next to him on the bed. 

“I’ll sing to you.” 

Blaine smiled. “Promise?” 

“Everyday.” Kurt kissed his cheek. 

They were going to be okay. 

[kurts-still-here]

They Can See Right Through Me Glee TOT Challenge FanFiction

@celery-elliry @useless-fanfictions @gleethisorthatchallenge

Hi everyone, this is my third fic for the Glee TOT Challenge and the prompt I choose was “Have you been taking take of yourself?”  because it was perfect for angst and I love angst. Hope everyone enjoys and tells me what they thought of it etheir on here, A03 OR FanFiction.Net. Happy reading 🤗🤗😁😁

Archive Of Our Own

FanFiction.Net

The first time the Warblers had seen Kurt was in the dining hall during lunch. They had heard rumors all that week about a new transfer student and were dying to know who it was. Not that they were gossipy or anything but maybe this kid could be another member to their show choir group. They were always looking for new members, they just had to be good enough to get in.

They had been sitting at the designated lunch table for all the Warblers when Sebastian had walked over to them, hand in hand with another boy that they had never seen before. The first thing the group noticed was how cute the boy was. He was very good looking with pale, smooth skin, blue eyes and perfectly styled hair. He held himself upright with confidence but his face told a different story. His eyes were frantic, like he was afraid that someone was going to jump out and attack him at any minute.

The second thing they noticed was how Sebastian and the boy were holding hands and then they thought that maybe the new kid was scared because of Sebastian. Sebastian wasn’t the most… how would you say it… gentle person. Even though he was their friend, Sebastian was arrogant and obnoxious and very straight forward. And his straight forwardness may have scared the new kid off.

“Hi Seb,” Jeff greeted him as Sebastian sat down next to him. He had let go of the new kid’s hand so he just stood there looking very out of place. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, this is Kurt,” He informed the group, reaching out his hand so that Kurt would come sit with him. “He’s new here,”

“I’ve heard of you before,” Trent said, excitedly. “You’re from McKinley.”

“Yeah, Kurt Hummel, right?” Thad asked him in which Kurt just slightly nodded his head. “You were apart of the New Directions,”

“That’s right and I’ve persuaded him to try out for the Warblers,” Sebastian beamed proudly. “Isn’t that right babe?” Kurt nodded his head again.

“Oh,” Wes said, raising his eyebrows at the other Warblers when Sebastian’s head was turned. So Kurt was “babe”? It wasn’t that Wes was homophobic or anything, in fact he was bisexual. No, it was just that Sebastian didn’t really seem like boyfriend material to him. He just hoped that Sebastian wouldn’t do anything stupid to break Kurt’s heart.

“That’s amazing,” Jeff exclaimed. “You're amazing Kurt. I watched your cheerleading performance at Nationals on TV last year. You were great,” Kurt just gave him a small smile before looking back to Sebastian.

The Warblers continued talking to one another about various subjects and one by one they subtly noticed how uncomfortable Kurt seemed. He was looking down at his hands, fidgeting with them and he seemed very nervous. They guessed that he was just shy or something like that and didn’t think much about it once they saw him. He would soon learn that they were all nice and trusting and soon they would become great friends.

Sebastian was the only person to confront Kurt. He took one of his hands so that he would stop and realize what he was doing before leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“Are you okay?” He asked. “You seem nervous,”

“I’m fine,” Kurt whispered back, still looking down. “I’m sorry, I’m probably embarrassing you in front of your friends,”

“What no,” Sebastian assured him. “You aren’t embarrassing me. They love you already, I can tell.” Kurt still didn’t seem convinced though so Sebastian continued to hold his hand, comforting him while not drawing any attention to him. Sebastian was more gentle than people gave him credit for.

Kurt was an odd fellow. He wasn’t weird like a nerd or a dork, he was just quiet and shy but sometimes he was too quiet and shy and it made it seem like he had a problem with people or something.

Kurt was an amazing singer. Later that day when the Warblers had met him, Kurt had auditioned for their group singing “I Want To Hold Your Hand” and his performance was outstanding. The emotion he put into his audition gave him a standing ovation and at the end of it he was near to tears. They would’ve been crazy to deny him into joining so they automatically accepted him and gave him Pavarotti, their mascot.

To say Kurt loved the bird was an understatement because Kurt took the bird with him everywhere. The bird’s cage was always on his desk during classes, always next to his bag on the floor at lunch and was always on his table with him when he did his homework. Kurt would take the bird out of his cage and would let him crawl on his finger while the bird sang. Kurt hummed along with him and everyone thought it was really cute.

Kurt didn’t really interact with everyone besides Sebastian and the bird. Sebastian was always holding hands with Kurt, they went everywhere together and the Warblers had never seen him so caring and kind towards another person before, they didn’t even know that it was possible. But then there was the couple, walking down the hallway hand in hand or kissing in the dorm room and it was really sweet. They only wished that Kurt would be more open with them so that they could get to know him better.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried to talk to Kurt because they had, it was just that they had given up. They would try to interact with him during the classes they shared or in their shared dorm room after classes but Kurt would just reply to them asking how his day was before returning his attention back to his work. And they knew that Kurt was trying to be rude or anything because he seemed way too sweet to do that but then they just wished that he knew that he could talk to them. It couldn’t be easy to transfer to a new school in the middle of the new semester, leaving all your friends behind and being hours away from your family. It just made them question why Kurt had come to Dalton in the first place.

They assumed that the two things, Kurt not talking to anyone and transferring were connected to each other but how, they didn’t know. So they let Kurt sit with them and they continued to ask how he was doing and if he needed anything in the hopes that he would open up more but he never did.

One day Kurt and Sebastian came to sit down with them at lunch like they usually did everyday when the group noticed something new about Kurt. He never ate anything. He would choose a small salad or a bowl of fruit to eat but would end up just pecking at it like he was Pavarotti. They didn’t really think much of it, just that maybe he had lost his appetite due to being upset about being away from everyone that he knew or that it had something to do with nerves so they didn’t question it or bring it up to Sebastian.

Sebastian however, noticed it and knew the reason behind it and it wasn’t just nerves. Kurt had a slight eating problem. It wasn’t much of a disorder, it was just that when he was under stress Kurt would stop eating. And it appeared to him that Kurt had been stressed for a long time seeing how thin and sickly he looked. You really had to look for it to notice it but Kurt was far too skinny. His uniform looked baggy and loose when he wore it and when he wasn’t in his uniform he wore pajama pants or sweatpants and a t-shirt or a hoodie. And it wasn’t like it was a crime or like it was abnormal for one to wear those pieces of clothing because all the boys wore things like that but the clothes that Kurt wore never fit him right, they were too big. And his facial structure was sharp, a little too sharp and his eyes were sunken in, giving him dark bags under his eyes that he had to cover with makeup. He was adorable to Sebastian but he would admit that Kurt was not the picture of health.

So Sebastian tried to help him. He would remind Kurt subtly to eat something even if it wasn’t much and would try to reduce the amount of stress his boyfriend felt even though his methods rarely ever worked. That day in particular was when David noticed that Kurt’s behavior was something more serious.

He had been conversing with Nick and Wes about potential ideas for group numbers for Regionals when his eyes drifted over to Kurt and Sebastian who were quietly talking to one another. He rarely ever heard Kurt speak which was probably why he was drawn to the scene and why he eavesdropped on their conversation.

Kurt had been staring at a granola bar that Sebastian had placed in front of him like it was poisonous or like it would attack him if he touched it. His eyes were wide and it seemed like he was trying to distance himself from the food as much as possible. Sebastian was sitting right next to Kurt with a comforting, encouraging hand on Kurt’s shoulder, trying to persuade him to eat.

“Come on Kurt,” Sebastian said. “You have to eat something,”

“I’m not hungry,” Kurt whispered back, once again fidgeting with his hands.

“You told me that at breakfast,” Sebastian reminded him and Kurt sighed. “Please, for me. You can do it,”

Kurt shook his head.

“Well can you tell me what’s bothering you then? Why you’re so worried today,”

“It’s nothing,” Kurt told him, his voice breaking a little, “I just miss them and they’re ignoring me,”

“Well what did you do?” Sebastian asked, rubbing Kurt’s back. “Not that you did anything wrong but why would they ignore you? I thought they were your friends,”

“It’s not important,” Kurt said. “I don’t want to talk about it but I’m not hungry,”

“It’s important if it’s bothering you babe. I want to help you. What did they do?”

“I have to go,” Kurt suddenly said, turning around to grab his bag and the bird cage. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” Sebastian said, standing up with Kurt and taking his hand. David had met eyes with Sebastian and had raised his eyebrow in a questioning manner as if to ask if Kurt was okay but Sebastian just smiled at him and waved his hand as if to assure David that he was fine. But David knew that he was lying because Kurt wasn’t okay, not if he was so stressed to the point that he was starving himself. So he decided that he would look out for Kurt and that maybe he could find a way to help him out. To find a way to make him feel more at home and welcome at Dalton or to make him feel more calm and relaxed. Kurt was a Warbler now and they were a tight group. They were all friends and they all looked out for each other to make sure they were okay. Kurt wasn’t any different to them.

Kurt had been at Dalton for a month now and it was Regionals. The competition was being held at McKinley and everyone could tell that Kurt was nervous about being at his old school. The reason why, well Sebastian of course was the only one to know of course and of course he didn’t tell them why. Not that the Warblers were trying to get all up in Kurt’s business or anything, it was just that they had started to get closer to the boy and they wanted to know if he was going to be okay.

Kurt was starting to act more comfortable around them. He still didn’t talk much but he seemed to pay attention to the conversations the boys had more instead of being off in his own little world. When he first arrived, all Kurt did was spend time in his dorm room with Sebastian if the rest of the Warblers were in the common room but now he occasionally joined them. Sure he sat away from them and usually did his own thing, homework or writing on a notebook but he seemed to enjoy their company more and that made the Warblers happy.

So after the competition where the Warblers had won they were all standing around outside, talking excitedly to one another about performing at Nationals in New York. They were really proud of themselves and of one another for winning and Wes was lecturing them about how hard they were going to have to work to win and how he was planning on adding extra rehearsals to their schedule so they could practice more. He was ignored for the most part except some teasing about how uptight and serious he was being. They wanted to celebrate, not rehearse.

Unfortunately their celebration was rudely interrupted by a group coming outside and a few of the members shouting.

“KURT HUMMEL,” One girl screamed, running up to the boy and almost knocking him over. She walked towards him while he walked back into a wall and hit his head, hard, against the bricks while the short, brunette pointed her finger into Kurt’s chest. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US?”

“Rachel,” A tall boy said, coming up behind her along with a boy with obviously dyed, blonde hair, a boy with a mohawk, a girl with long, black hair and a girl with blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail. The rest of their group consisted of a boy in a wheelchair, another blonde girl with her hair pulled up in a ponytail, a well styled black girl, an Asian girl with blue streaked hair and a tall, skinny Asian boy who were all standing by the door and who looked scared.

“Rachel, come on leave him alone,” The blonde boy said from behind the tall boy. “It’s not his fault we lost,”

“The hell it’s not,” The girl with black hair said. “He probably leaked the setlist to the gay boys from Hogwarts,”

“Kurt wouldn’t do that you guys,” The tall boy told them. “Get off of him Rachel,”

“KURT, YOU KNEW HOW MUCH THIS MEANT TO US, HOW MUCH IT MEANT TO ME AND YOU BEAT US?” The girl named Rachel shouted at him causing Nick, Jeff and Sebastian to come over to the group so they could get Kurt away from the maniac. “I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS. I HATE YOU. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WOULD BETRAY US LIKE THAT,”

“Excuse me,” Sebastian said, passively aggressively as he tapped Rachel on her shoulder and pushed past her to get to Kurt. “Would you like to explain to me just as to why you are screaming at my boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” The group sputtered, shocked.

“Please tell me this is a joke,” The girl with long hair said. “I knew you guys did orgies there,”

“How dare you…” Jeff started to say but Nick held him back.

“I’m still waiting,” Sebastian said, pulling Kurt into a hug and noticing that his head was bleeding. “Fuck, you’re bleeding babe. Look what you fucking did you psycho. What the hell is wrong with you people?”

“Um, hi,” The tall boy said, awkwardly as he held out his hand and Sebastian shook it, hesitantly. “I’m Finn, Kurt’s step brother and this is Rachel, Santana, Sam, Puck and Quinn.”

“Hi,” Sebastian said, annoyed. “Now what the hell was that about?”

“He leaked our setlist to your show choir competition team, that’s what this is about,” The girl named Quinn said, her hands on her hips.

“Would you three stop it already,” The boy with the mohawk named Puck yelled. “Princess didn’t tell them okay, he wouldn’t do that. And look what you did Berry, he’s fucking bleeding you diva,”

“Well I’m sorry,” Rachel huffed. “But this is inexcusable. First he ditches us and now he tells all his new team members about our performances. He’s selfish you guys,”

“He is not Rachel,” The boy named Sam said. “You know how bad the bullying was. He couldn’t stay here,”

“Yeah Karofsky threatened to kill him and all you’re thinking about is yourself and a stupid competition that barely even matters,” Finn yelled at her. “You’re the one who’s selfish,”

“Wait what,” Nick asked, questioning as to what everyone was talking about. Who was Karofsky? Bullying? Someone threatened to kill Kurt? But why, he was so sweet and kind? Was it because he was gay? Were these people homophobic? “Come on Jeff, we have to go. Seb can handle it,” Nick said before trying to drag his boyfriend away but Jeff stayed put, wanting to defend Kurt so Nick stayed with him.

“Look I don’t know what’s going on here,” Jeff shouted, making himself known to the group. “But you people are horrible. I don’t even see how Kurtie could consider you people he’s friends. He didn’t leak your setlist okay? We won fair and square and if you can’t handle defeat and be a good sport then you have no business competing in the first place.”

“Oh whatever blondie,” The girl named Santana said, rolling her eyes. “How are we supposed to believe that, we don’t know what you guys talk about when you aren’t having sex with multiple people at a time at Hogwarts although I have a few ideas,”

“Alright that it’s,” Jeff said, pushing his sleeves up and starting to charge towards the girl before Nick and Sebastian held him back. “Let me at her,”

“No boys let him go,” Santana said, pushing up her own sleeves. “I’m about to show him what goes down when you mess with me, Lima Heights style. And it ain’t pretty, prep boy,”

“No, no fighting you guys,” Sam said, stepping in front of Santana to block her. “We’re competitors, not enemies,”

“We’re leaving,” Sebastian said, taking Kurt's hand and wiping the tears that had fallen down his face with his free hand. “Leave him alone, I don’t want you near him. Come on guys, lets go,”

Sebastian took Kurt with him as he walked away from the group, Nick and Jeff following behind him.

“What was that about Kurt?” Sebastian asked him once they had rejoined the Warblers. “I mean, you told me they were assholes but that girl attacked you,”

Kurt didn’t answer Sebastian and instead, cried into his chest and hugged him tightly.

“No hey no don’t cry babe,” Sebastian said, rubbing his back. “You’re okay,”

“Kurtie, you’re bleeding really bad, hon,” Jeff told him. “We need to get you to a doctor,”

“Jeff’s right,” Nick said. “We should take him to the hospital. He might have a concussion,”

“Shit,” Sebastian cursed, pulling Kurt away from him so he could see his face. “Hey Kurt, how do you feel right now? Are you dizzy?”

Kurt shook his head no.

“Do you feel sick?”

Again, Kurt shook his head.

“Does your head hurt at all?” Sebastian asked him.

Kurt nodded his head yes.

“Okay then. Let’s go,” He said, gesturing to the other boys. “We can take my car, let me just tell Wes that we’re leaving,”

So Sebastian told Wes about what happened and Wes wanted to complain to the show choir committee about the lack of sportsmanship the group showed but Sebastian said that they shouldn’t do it until they’ve talked to Kurt about it. Sebastian then left and went to his car where Nick, Jeff and Kurt were already inside waiting for him. Sebastian sighed, getting in the car and driving off, pissed that he was taking his boyfriend to the hospital for a concussion instead of being out and celebrating with his friends.

They got to the hospital and stayed there until around midnight while Kurt got checked out. Turned out he did have a mild concussion and his symptoms got worse as time went on. He had to have paperwork signed so that he could be released from the hospital but his dad was currently in DC so the papers had to be faxed over to him so he could sign them which was why they had stayed so long. And apparently his dad didn’t even care that Kurt had been hurt, nevertheless by people that had claimed to be his friends. He just signed the paperwork over the phone with Kurt and didn’t even ask him how he was feeling. Sebastian figured that not only did Kurt not have a good relationship with his so-called friends but he also didn’t have a good relationship with his family.

The four boys left the hospital and this time Nick drove so that Sebastian could sit with Kurt in the back seat.

“You feeling okay babe?” He asked Kurt who was half asleep at this point. The doctor had told him that it was safe for Kurt to fall asleep at this point but he still was afraid that Kurt would fall asleep and that he wouldn’t wake up so he tried to get Kurt to stay awake until they reached Dalton.

“Yes,” Kurt told him.

“Are you sure?”

“No,”

“You’ll be okay,” Sebastian assured him, pulling him into a hug. “I love you,”

“I love you too,” Kurt told him, snuggling into his chest while Sebastian kissed his forehead.

After the debacle at Regionals the Warblers became even more protective and concerned towards Kurt and they could feel him pulling away from them again. This time they didn’t let him go so easily. They invited him to watch movies with them in their common room or to ask for his opinions on various topics. They just wanted him to feel safe and included and they wanted to assure him that he had real friends, not fake ones like the friends he had at his old school.

So they became particularly concerned when Wes had called a late night Warbler rehearsal after dinner and when Kurt didn’t show up. Sebastian had told the group that Kurt would be a little late getting back to Dalton because he had spent the day in Lima with his dad and step-mom but then Kurt didn’t show up at all and the boys started to worry. Kurt wasn’t answering his phone and had been three hours late. It was getting late and the boys were considering telling the dean about their friend when he finally showed up.

Wes, David, Thad, Trent, Nick, Jeff and Sebastian were all in their dorm room that they shared with one another, conversing about what to do about their missing friend when they heard the door open and saw Kurt walk in the room. To say that the boys were relieved that Kurt had come back and that he wasn’t dead or stranded alone somewhere was an understatement but then they took a closer look and their panic came back.

Kurt was visibly shaking, soaked head to toe since it had been raining that day and had various cuts and bruises on his face. It was hard to tell whether the water on his face was rain or tears but they assumed that it was both. Kurt looked more scared then he usually did and hugged himself tightly as he slid down the door, breaking down into tears. It seemed like the boy hadn't noticed that he wasn’t alone and was surprised when the boys came up to him. Sebastian and Nick bent down in front of him as they both took one of his hands to hold.

“Kurt what happened?” Sebastian asked, trying to figure out whether he was more upset or angry and whether he would stay with Kurt or go and beat up whoever hurt him. “Where were you, we were scared?”

“He’s gonna kill me,” Kurt said, in between sobs. “He found me Seb… I was leaving my dad’s house, walking to my car when he attacked me with his friends and… and I tried to get away, to get my dad or Finn but they had already left and …” Kurt started to say but his voice trailed off before he continued crying.

“Who was it babe?” Sebastian asked, sharing a look with Nick. “Was it Karofsky?”

“Yes,” Kurt whispered. “Please Seb, I don’t want to die,”

“Hey, look at me,” Sebastian said, tilting Kurt’s head up so that they were looking into each other’s eyes. “You aren’t going to die, I promise you. Don’t worry, okay? But you have to tell us what happened so that we can help you. Can you do that?”

“No,” Kurt said, shaking his head and it broke the boys’ hearts to see how scared and vulnerable he was. “I don’t want to die. I can’t tell anyone,”

“Kurt babe,” Sebastian started to say. “You aren’t going to die, I told you that but you have to tell us what happened so that we can make sure it doesn’t happen again. You don’t want it to happen again right?” Kurt nodded his head. “Okay then, so how about we get you cleaned up and into some dry clothes and then you can tell us what happened.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Kurt begged. “Please don’t tell my dad. All he’ll do is say that I deserved it for not sticking up for myself. Please Seb…”

“We won’t tell him okay?” Sebastian promised him. “Come on,”

He helped Kurt stand up and gave him a hug while Kurt continued to cry and Sebastian faced the Warblers, uncertain of what to do.

“Can someone get me some… I don’t know, band aids?” He asked. “What the fuck am I supposed to use?”

“Well go get some disinfectant and bandages from the nurse’s station,” Wes told him before leaving the room in a hurry with Thad and David.

“Did he really say that his dad was going to defend his attackers?” Trent asked, shocked. “What kind of sick person says something like that?”

“Well they don’t exactly have the best relationship with each other,” Sebastian sniffed. “That’s one of the reasons why he came here, so his dad could get rid of him and so he wouldn’t have to deal with the bullying at his old school,”

“That’s horrible,” Jeff said with tears in his eyes.

“I know,” Sebastian sighed, rubbing Kurt’s back. “I'm gonna help him change. Tell me when Wes comes back,”

Sebastian led Kurt into their room and shut the door before truing around to see Kurt sitting on his bed.

“You’re gonna be fine Kurt,” Sebastian assured him again. “You’re safe now,”

“I’m scared,” Kurt admitted, looking up into Sebastian’s eyes. “And it hurts,”

“What hurts?” Sebastian asked, sitting down next to Kurt on the bed.

“My head, I hit it on the ground.” Kurt explained. “And my wrist,” He said, holding out his arm so that Sebastian could see that his wrist was red and swollen. It was at least sprained. “Someone stomped on it,”

“Oh yeah that does look bad,” Sebastian told him, taking his arm and holding it gently. “But we can wrap it and ice it so it can rest. And at least it’s not the hand you write with right?”

“Right,” Kurt agreed. “I’m sorry Seb. I would’ve called but they broke my phone. I passed out and I guess they eventually left but when I woke up it was already pretty late so I started driving back here but my wrist… and it was far away… and…” Kurt’s voice broke off and he became overwhelmed and started crying again. “I’m so sorry,”

“Kurt you have nothing to be sorry for babe,” Sebastian assured him while bringing him into a hug. “I’m just sorry for not being there.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kurt told him, embracing the hug. “Can I change?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said, letting Kurt go. “Go ahead,”

Kurt got off the bed and went over to his draw to pick out a pair of clean clothes before going into the bathroom to change. A few minutes later he came back out in dry clothes and went back over to Sebastian, hugging him again.

“I love you,” Kurt told Sebastian. “I really do and I’m sorry that I’m like this. I don’t want to be this way,”

“No Kurt,” Sebastian said. “You’re perfect. You really are and I don’t want you to change one bit. You’re cute and talented and smart and kind and you’re the best person I know. It’s not your fault everyone’s an asshole,”

“Do you mean it?” Kurt asked, sincerely.

“Every word. I love you too,” Sebastian assured him, giving him a kiss. “I’m so glad I met you and I promise, I’m never going to let anyone hurt you ever again,”

“I know you won’t,” Kurt said. “I’m tired,”

“Wes, David and Thad should be back soon but I guess if you want to we can lay down until they come back,” Sebastian suggested and he laid down with Kurt in his bed, his arms wrapped around the smaller boy.

Kurt was the best thing that had ever happened to Sebastian and he was damned if he was going to mess up what they had going on. From the moment Sebastian met Kurt that day when they had bumped into each other, from the moment he looked and met eyes with Kurt, he knew he loved him. And he was lucky that Kurt loved him back. And he wanted to hurt anyone that had ever hurt Kurt in the past and he wanted to protect him at all cost. And he was going to do that no matter what he needed to do. Kurt meant that much to him.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms and didn’t hear when Wes and Nick knocked on their door. The boys opened the door to find Kurt and Sebastian asleep and debated on whether they should wake the pair up or not.

“Aww, look how cute they are Wes,” Nick cooed. “You can’t possibly think about waking them up now,”

“Kurt needs to be looked at,” Wes explained. “They can be cute again once he’s fixed up,”

“Since when are you a doctor Wesley?” Nick huffed. “Let them sleep. Kurt’s probably exhausted as it is and you blabbing on and on about god knows what isn’t going to make him feel better. You can take care of your patient in the morning,”

“Fine then,” Wes said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go,”

The boys softly closed the door and left Kurt and Sebastian to sleep peacefully. Wes just couldn’t believe what was happening to Kurt. He had heard from David about Kurt not eating when he got stressed and then that incident at Regionals with his old friends and now someone had tried to kill him. It wasn’t fair. Kurt was the most innocent, kind person he knew and to learn that he had so many people that hated him and that wanted to hurt him made him upset. If it was because Kurt was gay then people really needed to grow up and learn that hating someone because of the gender they loved was ridiculous and made no sense. And if it was because of Kurt’s personality then everyone was crazy. The poor boy needed a break and in the end, that's why Wes had decided to let him be.

It was now December, Kurt was attacked a month ago and he was still dealing with the effects of his attack. Sebastian and the rest of the Warblers had carried out their promise and hadn’t told anyone about what had happened that night but they were still considering it. Kurt was a mess and they meant that with all respect.

At first Kurt had gone on acting like everything was fine. His behavior was normal (or normal for Kurt anyway) and he stayed close to the Warblers and Sebastian. He didn’t leave the school not even if someone went with him but that was understandable. But then he had a nightmare.

Trent was the first one to wake up when he heard a high pitched scream coming from the other side of their room. He shared a room with Thad who was the next person to wake up and they walked out of their room into the common room to see a sleepy eyed Nick and Jeff also awake.

“Did you guys hear that?” Trent asked, rubbing his eyes. “Someone screamed,”

“Yep I heard it,” Jeff said, rubbing his ear. “It was definitely Kurtie, he’s the only one who can scream that loud,”

“Do you think we should check on him and Seb?” Thad asked. “To see if they need help,”

“I guess,” Nick said and the four of them walked over to Kurt and Sebastian’s door. Jeff knocked on the door.

“Seb? Kurt? Are you two okay?” He asked.

“Jeff, get the fuck in here now,” He heard Sebastian yell and he quickly opened the door and walked in, the other boys following behind him.

“Why did Kurt scream?” Nick asked.

“I don’t fucking know,” Sebastian yelled, getting out of his bed. “He screamed and then he ran in the bathroom and he won’t come out,”

“Well have you considered your choice of words Sebastian?” Trent asked and in return received a pillow thrown at him. “I guess not,”

“He had a goddamn nightmare,” Sebastian said, still cursing but lowering his voice some. “Before he screamed he was mumbling and he said his dad’s name and the name of his bully, Karofsky,”

“Oh the poor thing,” Jeff said, sympathetically. “Is this his first one?”

“I don’t know,” Sebastian groaned. “Why the fuck do people have to mess with him? He’s been through enough,”

“Seb,” Trent said. “I think you should check on him,”

“Right,” Sebastian said, walking over to the bathroom door. “Um… if you guys could like, leave that’d be great. I don’t think he’s going to want an audience right now,”

“Of course,” Thad said. “Tell us if you need anything and take care of him,”

The four boys left the room and Sebastian knocked on the bathroom door. “Kurt, are you okay in there? Can I come in?”

He pressed his ear against the door to hear muffled cries coming from the inside and sighed before opening the door. He found Kurt kneeled down in the corner, hugging himself in a tight ball, crying. The scene was heartbreaking and made Sebastian admittedly rush over to him to give him a hug.

“He was right there,” Kurt said, shaking. “He was right there Seb, he wanted to kill me. He almost killed me,”

“No he didn’t Kurt,” Sebastian said, tears welling up in his own eyes. “He’s not anywhere near here, you’re fine I promise. No one’s going to hurt you,”

“What did I do wrong?” Kurt asked, more to himself than to Sebastian. “Why do they all hate me Seb? They hate me so much.” He said through sobs.

“They don’t matter babe,” Sebastian assured Kurt. “I love you and the rest of the Warblers love you and that’s all that matters right, the people that do love you?”

“I miss them,” Kurt said. “I miss my friends and I miss my dad and I messed everything up,”

“No you didn’t. You didn’t mess anything up babe. You’re perfect. Please stop crying, you’re making me cry,”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said, looking up at Sebastian and wiping the tear that fell down his face. “I love you,”

“I love you too,” Sebastian said, laughing when Kurt brushed off his tear. “And I always will,”

“Ok,” Kurt said softly, “I don’t want to go back to sleep,”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Sebastian told him “You can lay down with me and we can watch a movie ok? You can pick,”

“Ok,” Kurt said again, standing up with Sebastian and leaving the bathroom. They both got into Kurt’s bed, under the blankets and snuggled close together before Sebastian grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels until Kurt settled on a movie that he had never heard of before and they both watched the movie together, neither falling asleep. Once the movie was over Sebastian got an idea and dragged Kurt out of the bed, pulling him over to the window and opening it to reveal a beautiful sunrise.

“Look at that,” Sebastian said, sighing happily to himself as he hugged Kurt from behind. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said, smiling. “I love it,”

“And I love you,” Sebastian said, snuggling into Kurt’s neck and kissing him.

“Forever?” Kurt asked.

“Forever,” Sebastian assured.

“I love you too,” Kurt assured him back and they spent the rest of their morning in each other’s embrace watching the sunrise and for a moment Kurt thought he was going to be okay.

But Kurt and everyone else was soon to realize that Kurt was wrong.

It was winter break and everyone in Kurt’s dorm decided to stay at Dalton for the holidays since their families worked during the holiday and they decided that being with each other would be more fun. So they spent their break watching Christmas movies and drinking hot chocolate or singing Christmas carols or playing board games or doing puzzles. Kurt joined in on the movies once in a while but kept to himself for the most part and resorted to writing in a journal.

It wasn’t your typical teenage journal that was actually a diary full of secrets and gossip about one’s life. It was just a notebook full of random words that were written in Kurt's neat handwriting. Kurt’s logic for doing this was that it calmed him, just seeing the word neatly written in pen on a blank sheet of white paper. He could write words about how he felt but for the most part he wrote the things that he liked.

My friends.

Sebastian.

Singing.

Cats.

Clouds.

Coffee.

Watching the sunrise with Seb.

Writing.

Taking walks.

Reading.

Going to my classes.

Flowers.

Grass.

Trees.

Things along those lines. Just things that Kurt loved about his life. He was just trying to focus on the positives rather than the negatives. But sometimes that proved to be really difficult for him and one day was very difficult to deal with.

Sebastian had woken him up early that day to tell him that he was going out to get some things that he needed from the store and told Kurt that he would be back soon. Kurt said okay before falling back asleep and when he woke up his body went into a state of intense panic. Just the sight of the other side of his bed, empty when Sebastian usually laid there and waited for him to wake up threw his whole day off. He tried not to let it bother him too much so he got up and got ready like he usually did before grabbing his blanket and his notebook and walking out into the common room. He was thankful to find the rest of his friends were already awake, continuing their Christmas movie marathon by watching “Elf” and laughing at the movie. They greeted him and he greeted them back before sitting down in an empty chair and trying to pay attention to the screen. It wasn’t working out though. No matter how hard he tried not to think about Sebastian and how he had been gone when he had woken even though he already knew that Sebastian wouldn’t be there, the more he thought about other things.

His dad.

Finn.

Carol.

His family that sent him off to a private school because they didn’t want to deal with him.

Rachel.

Mercedes.

Quinn.

His old friends.

His old friends that  hated him now.

Karofsky.

Azimio.

Bullying.

Slushies.

Locker shoves.

Dumpster dives.

Kissing.

Disgusting kissing that tasted awful.

Kissing that made him cry, that made him hate himself.

Kissing that made him feel so disgusting and awful that he wanted to hurt himself.

Fag.

Fairy.

Traitor.

Disappointment.

Waste of space.

Should just kill himself already.

This is what he found himself writing in his notebook and soon there was no trying to think about the positives because the negatives were pushed to the front of his brain and he couldn’t get rid of them. He felt tears come to his eyes and not wanting to cry in front of everyone but then not wanting to be alone, he got up out of his chair and went to sit down on the floor. Behind the couch. Under the table.

Why Kurt picked a table to sit under, he didn’t really know. He just needed a confined area of space that was for him only but he didn’t want to go back into his empty dorm room, he wanted to hear his friend laugh and he wanted to hear the movie so he chose the table. He tried to breathe but it didn’t really work, the air wouldn’t come into his lungs. He silently cried, his pen shaking in his finger and his body wrapped around him as he tried to calm down and tried to think about the positives. But nothing good came. So he tried to shut his mind off. He tried to clear everything out so that he didn’t have to think about anything and closed his eyes shut.

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there but he was relieved when he heard the door to their room open and heard familiar footsteps walk into the room. He wanted to get out and run into Sebastian’s arms but something inside him told him not to and kept him in place.

“Where’s Kurt?” Sebastian asked, taking off his scarf and coat.

“Under the table,” Wes said casually.

“What?” Sebastian asked confused as he walked over to the table and peered down to see Kurt sitting in a ball covered in a blanket. “Why did you let him sit underneath the table?”

“I don’t know,” Jeff said, still paying attention to the movie. “He seemed like he had his mind set on sitting underneath the table so we let him sit under there. Besides, who are we to tell him what to do? Is it a crime to sit under a table?”

“No,” Sebastian sighed. “I guess it’s not,”

Sebastian reached out to grab Kurt’s hand to pull him out from underneath the table when he noticed the notebook that Kurt had been writing in. Kurt hadn’t really seemed to notice his presence and Sebastian picked up the notebook, reading what Kurt had most recently written.

“Oh Kurt,” He said softly, looking back down to see that Kurt was shaking and that his face was stained with tears. “What happened?”

Kurt only shook his head.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Sebastian said, motioning  Kurt to take his hand so he could get up. Kurt took his hand and Sebastian pulled him up before getting an idea. He looked up above his head and smiled, mischievously to himself.

“Look what we’re standing under,” He said in a sing-song voice. “Mistletoe,”

“Kurt looked up and then looked back to Sebastian with a perplexed look, not connecting the two things together. That was until Sebastian dipped him back and kissed him passionately on his lips. Kurt kissed back and they stayed like that until the Warblers turned around and caught them in the position they were in.

“Eww gross,” Trent said, throwing a pillow at Sebastian.

“Get a room Seb,” David groaned, burying his face into another pillow.

“You two are worse than Nick and Jeff,” Wes complained before turning back around to see Nick and Jeff snuggling together, eskimo kissing one another. “Never mind, I take that back,”

“That’s what I thought,” Sebastian smirked before tilting Kurt back up and leading him into their room. “Don’t interrupt us,”

“Trust us, we won’t,” Thad assured him before Sebastian closed the door.

“So are you okay Kurt?” Sebastian asked, turning around to look at his boyfriend. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt whispered, looking down like he was ashamed of himself. “I woke up and you were gone and I know it’s stupid because I knew you weren’t going to be there but it still freaked me out for some reason and I got upset and I didn’t know what to do. I got dressed and I tried to pay attention to the movie that everyone was watching but I kept thinking about you and then I started thinking about everyone else and instead of writing down things that I liked, I started writing the things down that I didn’t like. And then I got really overwhelmed and I couldn’t breathe and so I got up and sat under the table because I didn’t know where else to go but… I’m so sorry Seb. I know that it was stupid of me to get so upset but I don’t know what happened,” Kurt explained, rapidly.

“Hey, take a breather babe,” Sebastian said, walking over to Kurt and rubbing his back. “It sounds like you had a panic attack. But you’re alright now okay?”

“Okay,” Kurt said, hugging Sebastian. “Please don’t leave me right now,”

“I won’t,” Sebastian promised him. “I promise. So do you want to watch the movie with them or…?”

“Can we just stay in here?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah of course,” Sebastian said before walking over to Kurt’s bed and laying down in it with him. They snuggled up with one another like they usually did, wrapped in blankets and in each other’s embrace and this time Sebastian picked a movie.

“I love you Sebastian,” Kurt said, smiling up at his boyfriend. “I love you so much,”

“I love you so much too Kurt,” Sebastian smiled back.

Kurt had resorted to a different method to manage his stress… running. He knew it probably wasn’t the best thing to do seeing how little he ate but then again, was really anything he ever did a good idea? He didn’t think so. So running was his new thing.

He felt free when he ran, like there was nothing holding him back or there was nothing weighing him down. When he ran he didn’t need to focus on all his problems or the things that bothered him, all he focused on was moving his feet in front of the other one and his breathing. He could run for hours if he wanted to and one day he actually did.

It had been a bad day for Kurt. He had had two exams and a project to present in his classes that day and then a Warbler practice after lunch and he felt like he needed to relax. So he went out after dinner and ran. Some of the other Warblers went out with him and watched him as they sat on the bench and talked with one another.

And Kurt ran. He lost track of time but he could tell that it was getting late when he noticed that the sun was setting and he would’ve stopped but he was on a roll. It felt good to him, to push his body through all the pain and sweat. Yes maybe it was a bad idea to run to the point where you’re in pain but it wasn’t like the pain that he felt when he was shoved in a locker. The pain felt good so he didn’t stop.

“What are you guys doing out here?” Sebastian asked Jeff, Nick and Trent as he walked out to the track and saw the guys on the bleachers.

“Kurt’s running,” Nick said, pointing over to where Kurt was on his probably hundredth lap around the track.

“Shit, you idiots,” Sebastian hissed. “How long has he been like that?”

“Like what?” Jeff asked. “He likes running,”

“He looks like he’s going to fall over Jeff,” Sebastian said, irritated.

“Oh. Well we’ve been out here since dinner which was at six,” Trent said, thinking out loud.

“And it’s around eight right now,” Nick added.

“So that means it’s been two hours,” Jeff said happily. “Woo, Kurtie’s really good at that,”

“Oh my god,” Sebastian groaned before jogging over to Kurt. “Hello babe,”

“Hi,” Kurt said, shortly, out of breath. “What are you doing here?”

“The better question is what are you doing here? It’s been two hours since I last saw you and I miss you,” Sebastian said, giving Kurt puppy dog eyes.

“Sorry. I knew it was getting late but you know… it’s just been a stressful day,” Kurt said.

“Oh,” Sebastian said, his face dropping. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I prefer running,”

“For two hours straight. Is that even healthy?”

“No but neither is being stressed out so I take what I get,” Kurt shrugged.

“Well what if we find a better way to get rid of your stress,” Sebastian suggested slyly. “We could make out,”

“Seb,” Kurt whined, although he did smile.

“Please,” Sebastian begged. “You’re so cute and I haven’t seen you all day. I love you,”

“Fine,” Kurt smirked. “But I’m taking a bath first,”

“Okay let’s go,” Sebastian said excitedly, taking Kurt’s hand and dragging him off the track.

They went back to their dorm room and Kurt showered and got ready for bed and then the two boys got into bed and cuddled up with each other. Kurt kissed Sebastian and Sebastian kissed back and they stayed like that for a while before Sebastian pulled Kurt into a hug.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Sebastian asked him. “I just ask because… I mean you could’ve changed your mind and I want you to know that I’ll listen to you,”

“I’m okay Seb,” Kurt assured him. “I just had a lot of work to do today and I'm not used to having so much. I was always on top of my work at McKinley, I was at the top of my class but here it’s just a little harder. But I got it done so I don’t have to worry anymore. I just wanted to run and I guess I lost myself a little too much,”

“Oh,” Sebastian said, rubbing Kurt’s back. "Well if you ever need help you can always ask me,”

“I know Seb,” Kurt said. “But thank you. For… just everything Seb. It means a lot to me,”

“Well you mean a lot to me,” Sebastian smiled.

“So do you,” Kurt smiled back.

Nick, Jeff, Wes and David were all in the common room doing a puzzle when Sebastian and Kurt walked in, hand and hand and stood facing each other with their foreheads pressed against each other.

“Why don’t you just go lay down and I’ll be in a minute, okay babe?” Sebastian told Kurt who nodded his head and wiped some tears on his face as he walked into their room.

“What’s wrong with Kurt?” David asked curious.

“He’s sick,” Sebastian said, rubbing his eyes. “He’s got a fever,”

“Oh, should I get the nurse?” Jeff asked, standing up.

“No, he’ll be fine I think,” Sebastian told them. “I don’t think he’d like that since he’s not really a people person. I’m just going to lay down with him and maybe he’ll sleep it off,”

“Oh okay,” Jeff said, sitting back down. Well tell me if you need anything,”

“I will,” Sebastian said before walking into their room to find Kurt curled up in a ball on his bed.

“You feeling alright babe?” Sebastian asked, rubbing Kurt’s back.

“I don’t feel good,” Was all Kurt said back.

“I know you don’t, you’re burning up. Do you want anything?” Sebastian asked.

“A hug,” Kurt told him and Sebastian laughed a little.

“I mean like medicine or something Kurt,”

“You don’t want to hug me?” Kurt asked, tears in his eyes.

“What no,” Sebastian exclaimed, laying down admittedly and hugging Kurt. “I always want to hug you Kurt, I love you. I just want to make you feel better,”

“I hate being sick,” Kurt pouted. “It’s not fair, I never get sick,”

“Well you just have to take care of yourself more Kurt. You’re stressing yourself out too much, it’s no wonder you aren’t feeling good right now,”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt whispered. “I really do try, it’s just hard,”

“I know you’re trying,” Sebastian assured him. “And I know it’s been rough for you but you’re doing really good, trust me,”

“I trust you,” Kurt told him. “And I love you too,”

“I love you,” Sebastian said, kissing Kurt’s forehead

[dabinws]

〈   🍌   ○   𝔬𝔬𝔠.   〉 ————   hiiiiieeeee !!!!! wow, i’m so excited to be here !! i’m duckie & this is my first venture into a group rp in awhile, so please be patient with me as i settle into things. anyway i’m here to introduce you to my little sailor moon child, park dabin aka the newfound love of my life ?? below the cut you’ll find a tl;dr version of her bio & stuff like that, & if you’re interested in plotting with her, give some love [ ❤︎ ] to this post & i’ll contact you asap !!

*  ( 001 )   ————   dabin grew up with a musical father & a more practical & rigid mother. obviously the two of them didn’t last in their relationship, but they were great at coparenting her. from an early age, she bonded with her dad & his side of the family due to a shared love of music. her dad taught her to play the guitar & supported her in her endeavors, but her mom didn’t have the same warm reaction. she would’ve preferred if her daughter were to become a nurse or a physician. this, unfortunately, caused them to butt —— heads a lot in her adolescence. the two of them didn’t get along & sadly still don’t.

*  ( 002 )   ————   she grew up christian & was forced to attend services. she was okay with it due to her involvement in the choir. it’s where she grew a profound love for singing & performing. though, sometime during her high school years, her uncle had informed her of his involvement in an entertainment company, & with this news came an announcement for auditions for a new girl group, giving her a ❝ nudge ❞ to sign up for them. she did so behind her mother’s back & ditched school one morning to try out, & not long after, she was offered a trainee slot under wishbone records. being backed up by her dad & uncle, her mother begrudgingly allowed her to drop out of school & start training to be an idol.

*  ( 003 )   ————   word got around that she was related to one of the ceos, so she didn’t start off making a lot of friends at wishbone. some of the other trainees believed that she was receiving preferential treatment from the instructors & label heads, but she thought she was being held to a higher standard because of her relationship to ceo park. keeping to herself most of the time, she worked hard & drastically improved her vocals, thus earning her a spot in dandelion as their lead vocalist.

*  ( 004 )   ————   when ❝ around you ❞ came out, the public really wasn’t pleased with her inclusion in dandelion, so leading up to their debut, she’s been dealing with tons of online hate comments & accusations of favoritism. having experienced this first —— hand with some trainees at wishbone, she tries her best to just not care... & that makes people even angrier with her. they think she shows no remorse —— because she actually doesn’t feel any —— & find her to be spoiled & overconfident. she’s just pretty careless overall.

*  ( 005 )   ————   𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞  /  i’d describe her as someone that’s a little whiney & lazy & oversensitive, but she’s also really loyal to her friends, a hopeless romantic, great at putting a smile on your face, & always ready to break her diet with you. some people find her lack of drive frustrating, & rightfully so, but she’s just... living her best life. she’s a total escapist, so it’s easy for her to enter her own little world whenever life gets hard to deal with. she’s kinda flighty & she’s a clumsy mess on —— stage, but she can light up a room & sing from her heart, so being an idol isn’t too farfetched for someone with her personality. i hope she grows over time into someone that takes herself & her life more seriously, but we’ll just have to see how that goes. she’s very much a wip !!!