#ANYWAY i just encountered this just now trying to understand the difference between colour-blind and colour conscious casting

[skylordhorus]

its such a bizarre feeling when ur suddenly necessitated to acknowledge a thought process that a. u didnt even notice was there because its so natural to u and b. that other ppl dont think like that

[sir-adamus]

Yang foils to a lot of characters

okay so i said earlier/yesterday/a time in the past that is before now that i was gonna do an updated thing on the villains/other antagonists that Yang foils/parallels/plays counterpart to (here’s the old one)

i decided to expand it past villains to other parts of the cast because there’s some interesting stuff there, anyway, below the cut:

Adam

okay so, obvious one out of the way first, yes, Adam is one of Yang’s foils (this should be obvious by now). both play significant (romantic) roles in Blake’s past and present respectively, but where Adam is an abusive dillweed and a coward (and paedophile) who responded to trauma by becoming the bigger asshole, never accepting responsibility and jealously obsessing over what he believed to be his, but he never cared about her as a person, only controlling and possessing her; Yang is kindhearted, compassionate and truly strong, who responded to her trauma in a more healthy way by talking it out with someone who could understand (Blake) and not taking it out on the world. she also shows an actual understanding of Blake and their relationship is healthy and balanced

they both have themes with anger, but where Yang’s anger is shown to be controlled and she doesn’t lash out at people, and her anger has never gotten her into trouble on its own (the one time she’s gotten into trouble over it, her anger wasn’t actually to blame, as she can’t be faulted for trying to defend herself over an attack that no one else saw), Adam explodes in a temper tantrum when he doesn’t get his way, and ends up making costly mistakes as a result

additionally their semblances are opposites - Yang takes damage and turns it into strength that she gets to keep until either she releases it or her Aura breaks. Adam can only absorb impacts through a proxy (his sword, that he hides behind) and can only dish back out what he has absorbed, at which point he has to build it up again. courage versus cowardice

Cinder

i’m pretty sure most would be expecting me to cover Mercury or Hazel here, but i feel like this is a significant one that gets overlooked - i have already made a post covering this in detail so i’ll just link that here and move on

Hazel

so there are a lot. both Yang and Hazel melee based fighters who supplement their martial combat techniques with weapons/Dust, instead of basing their fighting styles around weapons. both have siblings that mean a lot to them; but Hazel lost his twin sister Gretchen and the rage and grief against Ozpin has aligned him with Salem. Yang likewise dislikes and distrusts Ozpin, but she isn’t fueled by that and isn’t ruthless when it comes to approaching her goals

they’re both shown to be even-tempered outside of combat and both ideally won’t escalate a situation into a fight if they don’t have to - best comparison of this is, funnily enough, in their responses to Adam’s bullshit. Hazel doesn’t want to resort to violence or bloodshed when talking to Sienna and expresses disgust when Adam kills her because “no one needed to die today”. Yang, when encountering Adam in volume 6, approaches the situation with the same mentality, just telling him to leave her and Blake alone - no one needed to die in that situation, and the only person who did was Adam, who once again disagreed. the difference mainly is that Yang is very open and friendly and actually sticks to that resolve while Hazel is aloof and closed off and while he can stick to that gun most of the time, when Ozpin is involved all bets are off and he doesn’t care who he hurts, putting the fault for his actions on Ozpin

their semblances are also opposites, just in a different way to how Adam and Yang’s are; Yang’s semblance is about taking damage, absorbing pain, and rolling with it - she feels all that pain. her anger comes about as a result of it but it’s always controlled, directed. Hazel’s semblance blocks out pain, he is as powerful as he is because he’s not feeling any of the damage he’s taking, and it comes out with that uncontrollable rage, not caring who gets caught in the crossfire. controlled anger vs blind rage

Emerald

not much, but there are comparisons and contrasts to be drawn

both have issues with maternal figures; Yang lost her step-mother at an early age and her birth mother is not a great person. Yang however is under no illusions regarding Raven and has accepted that sad truth and doesn’t let it impact her decisions or sense of right and wrong

contrast Emerald, who is implied to see Cinder as a surrogate maternal figure and is deluding herself into thinking Cinder cares about her, to the point that she seems to be ignoring her own doubt over what she’s doing out of some misguided sense of obligation to someone who ultimately only keeps her around while she’s useful

Salem

well to start with “loneliness” is a motif that applies to both of them (Salem kinda foils to all the girls in some way or another, but you can get a lot with just Yang), a significant visual parallel between the scene Salem and Ozma (in unnamed meatbag #1) reunite to the scene where Blake and Yang see each other again for the first time since Beacon in volume 5, with Ozma paralleling Blake as the one entering the situation while Yang parallels Salem in seeing someone she thought she’d never see again (though things are gonna end much more healthily for Blake and Yang)

Yang as a character is interesting because almost everything that goes wrong in her life (her birth mother leaving, her step-mother dying, her father shutting down and forcing her to raise herself and Ruby, her uncle never being around, everything at Beacon and what has followed) can all be rooted back at least partially to decisions Oz has made and lies he’s told (and she’s understandably angry at him just for the recent stuff). and knowing Salem’s backstory, a lot of the crap that’s happened to her is a result of Oz’s bad decisions and lies - their responses are different, obviously, Yang doesn’t react to nearly the extremes Salem does, but then Yang isn’t several thousands of years old and hasn’t had all her hope snatched away yet (though Oz definitely gave it the old college try by building people up on false hope and thinking that somehow wouldn’t bite him in the ass) while Salem only started getting as bad as she did after Oz took the hope that he gave her by coming back into her life away again (instead of talking things out with her like an adult over what was like, one relatively mild outburst at least partially influenced by Grimm corruption which isn’t something she could really help, because she believed it would kill her, and was keeping relatively under control otherwise - avoiding the problem and not talking to people is a terrible habit of his)

Yang and Salem also have associations with the God of Darkness’s creations; Yang is heavily and frequently associated with fire, while Salem is tied to the Grimm thanks to the Brothers Grimm pools she tried to use to finally die

stubbornness is a theme as well - Yang has a backstory where stubbornness nearly got her killed and so she’s more careful about it in the present, it’s not an issue for her, while Salem’s (as a result of a combination of loneliness, unhealthy dependence on the one good thing in her life and having absolutely zero healthy ways of coping with grief due to her shitty upbringing that the gods just didn’t bother helping her with in the slightest and only exacerbated) is a big factor in the situation the world is at right now. neither Yang nor Salem give up, ever, but, as Yang says, she doesn’t let that control her

Tyrian

this is another short one, Tyrian lost a large amount of his tail to Ruby (a red and black-themed fighter with a rose motif), much like Yang lost her arm to Adam, and both have cybernetic prosthesis to replace the lost parts (Atlesian in origin, as well)

both have colour-change eyes when they use their abilities, Yang’s eyes go from lilac to red, Tyrian’s go from gold to purple, and both fight with weapons attached to their arms - but Yang’s Ember Celica is meant to supplement her punch-based fighting style with gun fire with some ranged ability, Tyrian’s The Queen’s Servants are primarily for slashing attacks and separate gun barrels for ranged attacks

Maria

we’re off the villains for a while, and this one is notable for the comparisons and parallels being drawn in the show itself

both Maria and Yang are noted to be incredibly strong fighters, Maria to near mythic levels (and both have jumped on a Nevermore mid-flight), both received injuries that took them out of the game and acquired prosthetics to help them following that, but Maria herself notes that she didn’t have the strength of will to keep fighting after her injury, while Yang did (and we know Yang kept going because she felt obligated to take care of Ruby, so the contrast seems to be Maria didn’t have others to fight for like Yang does)

both are also snarky and good-humoured, and play guiding roles for Ruby (we’re even given scenes where both try to teach Ruby how to fight using abilities outside of her weapon and Semblance - Yang trying to teach Ruby how to handle herself in hand-to-hand combat, and ultimately getting nowhere because she didn’t get to address the problem due to other things coming up, while Maria guides Ruby on how to use her Silver Eyes, to better results)

Pyrrha

especially notable in volume 3 but there are elements throughout

Yang and Pyrrha are pretty much the Strongest in terms of physical ability of the main 8 for the first three volumes, though with very different approaches, a fact which ties into Salem’s speech at the beginning of volume 1 (which is concluded in her speech at the end of volume 3), “there is no victory in strength”. at the end of volume 3, the strongest players among the heroes are out of play, critically injured and depressed in Yang’s case, and dead in Pyrrha’s

there’s some shared theming with “gold” and “fire” again, kinda similar to Cinder - Pyrrha means “flame-haired”, and she wears gold armour; Yang we know has a big fire motif and is highly associated with gold

both are confident in different ways while hiding their isolation and insecurities beneath the surface; Yang is very outgoing and boisterous and strong-willed, while Pyrrha is more reserved and less outspoken, but quite weak-willed, never really standing up for herself and doing whatever is asked of her

Nora

another short one, loud, boisterous members of their respective teams, with similar charge-based semblances and a significant relationship with their quieter, ninja-themed partner

the difference is Nora is more extremely loud and boisterous, where Yang has her quieter, more introspective moments (tying into her yin-yang dynamic with Blake, where they have elements of aspects commonly associated with the other)

Raven

there isn’t actually much for this one because the majority of the foiling for Raven is with Blake (much like Adam foils to Yang, but has some elements with Blake too), but their semblances and the mechanics/origins behind them are very telling

Yang’s semblance, turning the damage, the pain she takes into strength, is rooted in her backstory of having to roll with the pain and devastation of losing Summer, finding out she was abandoned by Raven and Tai not taking care of them, and having to find the strength to keep things together for Ruby’s sake. Yang is primarily (almost unhealthily) motivated for the sake of those she is close to; i mentioned it back in Maria’s section, Yang is almost always fighting for the people she loves

Raven, by contrast, has a semblance that connects her to those she is close to, she can travel vast distances to them instantaneously - but she almost exclusively fights for herself, and only uses her semblance to run away (and the irony is her semblance is built so she can run to people, to seek solace and support from them - Yang used Raven’s semblance to get to Ruby in the way Raven really should be using it)

Honourable Mention - Roman and Neo

see here

Oh yeah Mercury i guess

- martial arts based fighting style, hands vs feet

- named after celestial bodies (Yang - the sun, Mercury - Mercury)

- weapons enhance fighting style

- shit dads tell them not to use/take away semblances with shitty reasoning (”its a good fallback but you can’t rely on” except by definition a fallback is something you rely on, so which is it? also calling her semblance - the literal manifestation of her soul, a temper tantrum. solid parenting A+, totally doesnt remind me of: “this is a crutch, this makes you weak” yes, saying that the sum of someones character is a weakness isn’t horrifyingly disgusting at all, thanks Marcus, A+ parenting you drunk fuckbag)

- difference is Yang is strong and a good person and Mercury chose to be a fuckboi shitbag

[theheartofpenelope]

SIMPLE THINGS - Chapter five

Chapter five - excerpt : Granted, the subsequent sexual encounter might have been quite imaginary, it dìd prove to Charlotte she was still alive inside. It reminded her of her youth, her possibilities and – let’s be honest - her needs. And upon returning home Charlotte had deemed herself finally ready to gently ease herself back into the dating game, much to her best friend Elisabeth’s joy. The ‘Lizzie’ to her ‘Charlie’. Ever understanding, ever supportive, but ever impatient as well.

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @devikafernando, @scorpionchild81, @messy-insomniac-bookgirl, @smutsausage, @hiddlesbitch1 @noplacelikehome77 @wolfsmom1 @meh1217 @dina-bln @lilaeye39 @tinchentitri @fairlightswiftly @nonsensicalobsessions @wolfsmom1

Author’s Notes/Warnings: tags will follow later on -also : the lay-out of the text-conversation is so much cleaner on AO3. But here on Tumblr it’s a bit of a mess as those specific html-outlining- inserts don’t work *perfectionistic groan* So it’s not looking ‘perfect’ here on Tumblr, I had to manually try to outline it - but I did the best I could... Anyway thank you in advance for feedback - would love to know what you think…

Also on AO3 through this link Bonus: click here for the pinterest moodboard (always updated)

Chapter five Amsterdam, the Netherlands

1.

Amsterdam did not hold many secrets for Charlotte anymore. She had visited the scenic city many times before and so the site had somehow become a familiarity to her. She would never have realised that if Tom hadn’t requested her to send him some pictures of the Netherlands’ capital.

Yes. Tom.

His first message came as quite a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. And Charlotte gladly obliged to the kind wish of this man who had kept his word and sent her some not-so-touristy addresses she ought to visit while in Hamburg and Berlin - her next destinations.

Charlotte’s phone shots mostly consisted of her favourite sights such as the bridges over the breath-taking canals, boats, strings of light bulbs lighting up pop-up summer bars in the park and the beautiful restored architecture that took her breath away as if it were the first time she’d laid eyes upon it. Thank you Tom for reminding me of this.

The Convention didn’t take up much of her time for a change. Charlotte gladly took the opportunity to stop by the floating flower market for some fresh flowers, and browse through one of her favourite flea markets where she picked up a few books before boarding the intercity train home later that afternoon.

With her new acquisitions all packed up, Charlotte strolled down to the Central Station. Upon entering the building, that felt more like the ‘arrivals and departures’- scene at any given airport, she walked passed some colourful shops. She hopped in one to get herself a refreshing drink for the ride home and upon queueing at the cash register, her eyes scanned over the headlines of the international press that was presented there. One specific title in big bold letters called out to her. A tabloid read out in bold red print : ‘Tom Hiddleston spotted with mystery woman’.

Charlotte laughed a little louder than planned as she detected the picture showcased in fact his publicist’s intern. She shook her head in amusement; was this the man she was currently sending touristy pictures to? Felt a bit silly really…

Charlotte couldn’t deny that over the start of the summer her life had somehow taken an unexpected and bizarre turn. While her professional life had continued to overshadow her private life, she did seem to have found a somewhat manageable and unique balance between the two.

In the sense that she would combine her professional obligations at conferences abroad with some extra me-time. She would try to extend her stay as far as time or reason allowed, so she could go and explore the cities and come to herself before starting all over again somewhere else.

In her head her plan seemed picture perfect, in reality she came to realise she really ought to prepare these kinds of visits just a little bit more. Tom’s tips came in more than handy here… She caught her lips curving into a smile.

Stop it! Silly girl...

Up until now Charlotte had managed to keep her head on straight, regardless of her hectic schedule. She was tired but ambitious, worn-out at times but always remained curious and anxious for what came next. And then came London... the visit that shook her up a bit. It felt as if the carpet had suddenly been pulled out from under her feet. Metaphorically she’d stumbled at first, taken quite the fall nevertheless but then got up again, feeling quite unsure and apprehensive. It had been a dizzying 72 hours, but equally exhilarating nonetheless.

Granted, the subsequent sexual encounter might have been quite imaginary, it dìd prove to Charlotte she was still alive inside. It reminded her of her youth, her possibilities and – let’s be honest - her needs. And upon returning home Charlotte had deemed herself finally ready to gently ease herself back into the dating game, much to her best friend Elisabeth’s joy. The ‘Lizzie’ to her ‘Charlie’. Ever understanding, ever supportive, but ever impatient as well. So before Charlotte was good and well aware ‘Lizzie’ had her all set up for a blind date later that night.

Charlotte did her best not to take any offence in Lizzie’s sudden matchmaking extravaganza - lord knows how long she’d been pushing the matter - but decided to ‘just go with it’.

Charlotte switched her phone into flight mode as she boarded the train. She had a thing with flight mode. The thrill of being able to cut out all outside intrusions was one she often indulged in. And right now she had opted to treat herself to some lounge music while reading. With two hours to kill, it seems the perfect getaway from reality.

She settled in her seat, earphones plugged in, loungy music on and one of her new acquirements resting in her hands. She admired the mysterious cover for a while. It was a book Tom had highly recommended to her. Intrigued, she curiously delved in.

WIthin no less than a dozen pages, to her greatest surprise, the words struck home to both Charlotte and her wounded heart.

“Even though I complain sometimes it (his heart) said, it’s because I am the heart of a person, and people’s hearts are that way. People are afraid to pursue their most important dreams because they feel they don’t deserve them, or that they won’t be able to achieve them.

Many years ago Charlotte had lost her heart to a man. Well, a boy still when they’d first met. And she’d treasured him just as much as he had treasured her. They had gone through so much together; they left the university-benches together and dived headfirst into their professional lives. And while they took their time to search where their respective professional futures lay, they wasted no time on their personal future and got married. She’d truly followed her heart.

Fairly soon he was on his road to success, while Charlotte struggled. They bought a flat with a breath-taking view over the park but by then the marriage was already in heavy weather...

Charlotte’s stomach turned into a knot as the narrative in the book went on.

"We, their hearts, become fearful just thinking of loved ones who go away, or of moments that could have been good, but weren’t, or treasures that might have been found but were forever hidden in the sands. Because when these things happen we suffer terribly.”

You see; back then, in her professional life Charlotte had only faced glass ceilings and struggled with the balance between professional and private life. A struggle her husband had failed to see or recognize.

Evidently work demanded they would started moving in different circles, networking, meeting new people, investing. He had to put in crazy hours, there was no energy left for other struggles. And Charlotte definitely felt like a struggle he wanted to do without. Or one he could do without.

It astounded her really. After all, they had overcome so much together; she always thought their relationship had a solid foundation that could resist any type of storm. But somehow, in this phase of their lives, she felt as if their marriage was built on nothing more than a children’s floaty. Whimsical, terrifyingly unpredictable. To make matters worse, in his opinion there was only room for one career in a marriage. Charlotte begged to differ but for the sake of her marriage she gave up trying to pursue more , thinking it would make her happier and by result him as well. Only it didn’t.

She wasn’t suffering though, not anymore , Charlotte thought. With pain in her heart, she had to accept the crumbling of their relationship, their understanding and ultimately their love. She had fought and sacrificed, alas it takes two to tango and their paths lay so far apart now. Closing the door on her marriage, she closed off the door to love in general. Although the divorce was ultimately somehow a mutual decision; that didn’t mean it hurt any less. He had been a part of her past and present, but sadly no longer held her future and that insight hurt. Those who say infidelity hurts the most, meet ‘indifference’; the very close runner up!

"My heart is afraid it will have to suffer,” said the boy.

“Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams because every second of the search is an encounter with God….”

Charlotte had turned her focus now solely on her professional life where all of a sudden – to her a delight - a glass ceiling started showing subtle cracks. She grasped the opportunity with both hands, diving into work and research at full speed, ignoring all else.

Her wings had been clipped in the past, she felt she owed it to herself to open them up now and fly. Far, far away. And she dreaded the day (or the person) who would even try to confine her again.

It caused her an occasional lecture from her best friend Lizzie, but was it clear to outsiders as well that she had closed herself off like this? Or was Tom’s recommendation of this particular book just a happy – albeit freakishly strange - coincidence?

Cracking open the door to my heart wasn’t enough; must you take down the entire façade as well?

Realising the answer to this question was irrelevant she immediately engrossed herself further in the book. Charlotte felt tears stinging as the chapter went on. Before she knew it, she was halfway along the book when the train halted at her destination. She left the train with a heavy heart, an emotional wound but a regained insight. She shook her head and tucked her new favourite book in her purse.

2. It had to be said : Charlotte was pleasantly surprised that she was greeted with a very charming man that evening.

Well done Lizzie!

He was tall and dressed to the nines, with dark hair, piercing green eyes and a handsome smile to match. She had an inkling he knèw he had charm, but she was not yet sure if he played that card.

He turned out to be both charismatic and intelligent. Charlotte had to fight her inner cynic who immediately wanted to find out what was ‘wrong’ with him in order for him to be single, temporarily forgetting he might as well have the same reservations towards her.

They shared appetizers while talking about the current heat wave, the local news, bits and bobs. It was mildly entertaining, at least as far as anxious blind dates can go. It would seem a lovely dinner would ensue.

The man was athletic, which made him easy on the eye however not on the mind. It started when dinner was ordered and gluten was off limits. “Not allergic,” he elaborated, “but bad for my physique.” Charlotte however gladly indulged in a homemade Sicilian pasta stew. It wasn’t meant as a rebellious act, she was simply a not-so-secret foodie.

We’re on the fence here, ladies and gentlemen, but let us not jump to conclusions…

When the topic of interest came up, it was clear they could not have been more divers and while in her mind that thrilled her, she found he held no remote interest in her hobbies. In fact; he was quite opinionated. She may have been as well, but isn’t there some sort of grey zone? Or the illusion of politeness for starters?

Strike 1.

He considered art as overrated and too pricey. While Charlotte could agree on the financial matter, but ‘overrated’? Seriously? He considered literature old and stuffy, and commented along the lines of “honestly who reads these days.”

Strike 2.

Also, he left his smartphone on the table during the entire dinner and wasn’t too shy to check it at times. Hel-lo?

Strike 3.

Charlotte had learned long ago to be honest about her desires and so by the end of dinner, after the coffee and the dessert, when he suggested drinks at a wine & lounge bar, she politely refused. She was knackered and the foresight of spending more time going through pointless conversation frustrated her.

She kindly bid her farewell and at his attempt to a ‘let’s do this again maybe’ Charlotte carefully added she did not see any point in that. Kind as he might have been. She was met with a surprised reaction. Apparently he did not expect an answer as honest as this, even though he did feel the same.

Was it not ok to just step forward and say things like this, then?

Clearly he wasn’t a feminist either. Or was she just high maintenance?

You’re out!

On her walk home, Charlotte unmuted her smartphone. At least shé had the common sense to zone out outside distractions during her date. As expected Lizzie had already dropped several lines to her. And Charlotte was about to – and very gingerly so – elaborate on the horror-date, “ 3 hours down the drain, did I rush home for this ?” when she made another, more pleasant, discovery.

Tom had replied to her Amsterdam snapshots. It instantly lifted her mood to read her pictures had brought ‘joy to his heart’ before going on to share an equally amusing as eloquent anecdote on his day. Clearly a man who reads , the devil on her shoulder fired back to her long-gone date.

3.

After London, Charlotte had adjusted his name on her contact list to the more fitting ‘Instigator Tom’. She grinned as they exchanged some messages back and forth. As it appeared Charlotte wasn’t the only one who had suffered a lousy end to a promising evening; Tom had gone through a crappy day as well. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she carefully informed him :

                           I started reading ‘The Alchemist’<<

>>And? Your thoughts so far?

          There was this quote that I cannot shake…<<   ”You will never be able to escape from your heart.<<           So it's better to listen to what it has to say”<<                                       So tonight, I listened to it.<<

Tom’s lips curved into a smile while he tapped on his phone that that was undoubtedly a very wise decision on her behalf. Although he did sympathise for her date gone wrong. He chuckled out loud when Charlotte swiftly countered with a “you should be, it’s all your fault really - recommending that book and all…” And he gladly and sincerely apologized to her.

To his surprise her date turned out to be a blind date, and before he was well aware he had sent out :

>> So, it was a ‘blind’ date? Forgive me for saying, but you don’t strike me as the type who would need a set-up?

                                     I’ll take the compliment ;-) <<

So Charlotte had went on a date, a blind one at that. While Tom wanted to think 'good for her', his mind fixated on 'single'. Truly, he wanted nothing more than to bond with her on the difficulties of dating but found himself lacking for any decent answer in that department because he simply did not date. Not anymore.

Long gone were the days were he would (or could) just go out and strike up a conversation with a woman and see where it went. He wasn’t around long enough to let anything flourish, let alone bloom. Not at all. When he wasn’t working, his days or evenings were filled with press tours, interviews, premiers, gala's. Maybe an occasional party. But the essence of it all was always exactly the same. Someone would pull on his sleeve, demanding him to ' come and meet someone' . Someone in his line of work, someone up and coming, someone he should definitely rub shoulders with. Meet so and so. Talk, discuss, network. At times it really wàs lovely and interesting. But the horrible truth of the matter remained that Tom was living by his work schedule and not by his heart. A very conscious decision he’d made many years ago, that had somehow turned into a grueling reality these days.

So he replied to Charlotte in the only way he could, by truthfully confiding in her and sharing the loneliness of the ‘picture perfect actors’ behind the spotlights.

Thank you for saying that. However, I find this very doubtful… <<

>> It is the truth though, I’m afraid.

He hesitated for a moment, before daring to question her :

>> You’ve not been dating long?

              No. Just easing into it again. (Peer pressure)<<                                                        It’s been a while…<<

Tom unknowingly bit his lower lip, subsequently running his tongue over it while he wondered how he could diplomatically find out more without seeming crass or rude. Did she suffer from a bad break-up? To his surprise she very easily and clearly admitted that the only thing she ‘suffered from’ was a lonely divorce.

A divorce?

Charlotte chuckled and shook her head when Tom apologized via text - as if he had anything to do with her marital status… A short text of his followed asking her what had happened and then a third one; another apology because he reasoned his asking was ‘probably rather indiscrete’.

She was unaware that a heavy sigh escaped her lips as she delved deep into her thoughts before typing out:

                         That’s all right. I guess ‘life’ happened?<<                                                   Feels like failure though.<<

Or the death slot on the goose board. Back to square one.<<

                                           (can’t believe I just said that)<<

         Goes to show, I’m damaged goods. Steer clear ;-)<<

Her answer came out in a series of separate texts. The obvious proof her mind was still processing somewhat. Tom’s benevolent reply that she shouldn’t be too hard on herself, warmed her heard. After all, he reasoned “Sometimes it’s nice to start over? Or heal.”

                                                                  So they say… <<

Dot. End of the line.

Charlotte kept silent after this. Nothing more was to be said on the matter, was there? In London, Tom thought long and hard about a decent reply… In his heart he felt he could not end this conversation on those last words of her.

>> If memory serves me well, the book also says : “Don't give in to your fears. If you do, you won't be able to talk to your heart.”

Charlotte smiled to herself as a text followed in which he reasoned “we’re not meant nor made to be alone” and that her peer pressuring friends are right in pushing her forward after nearly a year on the bench. “Someone to talk to late at night, Someone to cuddle, … not to be underestimated!”

He shook his head to himself when he caught himself typing that the end of a marriage isn’t the be all - end all. And while he fervently dreamed he would never have to experience a divorce first-hand, sometimes it was simply the right thing to do. If only you handled it well. In which case he referred to his parents and the toll it could possibly take on the young children involved. But Charlotte had no children, she was young enough to start over. And there is no harm in that.

Now this is some very cheap therapy , a mirthless grin at his own expense.

>> Not all storms come to disrupt your life, Charlotte, some come to clear your path.

A pause.

>> Besides, there’s always the prison-slot. Just a time-out until someone sets you free.

                                                       … isn’t that a Sting song?<<

>> Avoiding the point Charlotte..

                                                                                            :-) <<          Thank you for recommending the book to me though.. <<

>> I hold it close to my heart. I had a feeling you might appreciate it as well.

Charlotte heaved a content sigh and confessed that, indeed, all she wanted to to was to get home and finish the book. To her surprise he correctly guessed she would and should just do that in her garden. Good memory, young man. Bonus points for you.

She agreed with him and shared her intent of making a fresh mint tea first. Because when you read in the garden at night, this was the only way to do it right. He chuckled to himself and confessed how much he could relate to that.

Their conversation ended with wishing the other a good night and the promise of more book recommendations.

Placing his smart phone away, Tom reminisced on the sneak-peak he’d gotten of her heart and it was not what he had imagined it to be. In his eyes she was intelligent, beautiful and carefree. He never considered her broken hearted. Goes to show everybody hides behind a façade, he realised. It made him like her just a little bit more.

[finiarels]

Finding Your Happiness

Pairing: Sakurai Reika X Shiraishi Mai

Rating: MATURE [please read wisely or you can read the safe version [here]]

Summary: It took Sakurai Reika an accident on a slippery floor of the Laundry Room to realise what’s the best for them.

From the first place, it is pretty unusual for someone to do their laundry so late at night on normal weekdays, Monday no less. That’s basically why she has always tried to get the clothes washing matters done at this time, it is less stressful when every single machine is available. However, today is somehow different.

Well, who would have thought that the laundry room in the apartment building will be foaming with detergent on 11 at night? She quickly wiped the foam that somehow got into her mouth, cursing under her breath when the bitter chemical taste got into her tongue. She threw her gaze around, noticing that almost every single tile on the floor is covered by the fluffy looking white foam. She stopped when her eyes reached a young woman who’s looking at her, a mixed expression of sorry and disbelieves on her face, hand holding the floor mop awkwardly as their eyes met.

“R-Reika-san? What are you doing here?” the person asked, clearly embarrassed with the whole situation.

“I live here,” she raised her eyebrows. “Well, not literally here of course. My place is on the level 3.”

As her hands moved to wipe the excess foam from the back of her short, she stands up carefully, making sure that she wouldn’t slip again. Inspecting the other girl from head to toe. Part of her still could not believe that it is truly her.

She usually sees the girl in full makeup, completely ready for a photo session, but this time the girl has her beautiful hair tied in a messy bun, a black t-shirt with a sports brand’s name sticking on her body, the same brand logo is embroidered in her short pants, completed with a simple red Hawaiian slipper adorning her foot.

There is something about the person plain and a bit messy look that makes her mind goes blank for a moment, pulling her into those few times she had seen her after their casual lustful encounter.

Sakurai Reika shook the thought out of her head, her hand reaches for her laundry basket, which by now is almost empty as the content has fallen onto the floor, a result of her clumsy slip. As she tries her best not to curse upon the need to gather the stuff back into the basket, the person moved closer to help her.

“I am really sorry,” she apologized.

“I have never thought that the divine Goddess Shiraishi Mai is amazingly horrible on household chores,” Sakurai said, calling her like how some people would describe her in order to mock her even more.

The girl let out a slight ‘tsk’ in annoyance, “technically this is not my doing. My sister was the one who did this out of her sudden urge to help me with house chores. As you can see she’s amazingly horrible on this kind of stuff. Long story short, she’s having a guest right now so I am the one who came to get the clothes and that’s how I ended up here.”

“Your sister is an opera singer, isn’t she? The one who did Romeo and Juliet?”

“That’s the one,” she chuckled. Both of them works in silence for a while. Sakurai notice when the girl picks up one of dark coloured undergarment from the floor, looking troubled before quickly tossing it to the basket, “sorry.”

Now it’s Sakurai turn to laugh because of the other girl reaction, “come on, it’s not like you haven’t touched them before.”

“Well, unlike you I still have some decency to feel embarrassed from touching someone’s underwear,” she pouted to cover her embarrassment.

“Really? I don’t recall you being shy when you slide it off from my body.”

“Have you ever been slapped with a mop?” Shiraishi squinted, totally not that pleased with her teasing.

“I surrender, I need my face intact,” Sakurai raised both of her hands jokingly as she chuckles for several more seconds. She gathered several last pieces, making sure everything is there before picking up the basket to the nearest empty machine. Swiftly she loaded everything and latch the circle shaped door, stealing glances at the girl every several seconds.

“How come I’ve never seen you around?” she asked as her index finger pressed one of the buttons to start the cleaning cycle.

“I don’t really need to use the communal facilities, I have a washing machine in my place, it’s just that it’s currently broken,” she explains as she started to mop the floor.

“Well, seeing for the current turn of event, I am not surprised that it’s broken.” Sakurai spun so she can see the girl without the need to turn her head around, leaning back to the machine with her hands folded in front of her chest as she observes her, “But really I have never heard anything about you or your sister living here, so I am really surprised.”

“I moved in about a year ago because I can’t stand how some people actually waited around the area to take a picture of Shiraishi Mai and her always changing secret lover. That’s why I am really trying to keep this place a secret, so I would be really thankful if you don’t mention this to anyone,” she pleaded.

“Your secret is safe with me,” she assured as she made a mouth zipping gesture.

Shiraishi smiled, stopping for a moment to wipe a bead of sweat from her forehead, “that aside, how come I didn’t had you over the last couple of N46mode photoshoot?”

“You can always call if you want me that much, a love hotel couldn’t be that far.”

“You know what I mean,” she said irritably. “Are you avoiding me or something?”

Sakurai teasing smile melted into a bitter one, knowing that the person almost hit the correct spot on that one. “You know that’s not true. I would never do that.”

“If that’s not true then how come they suddenly have Hashimoto-san to handle my photoshoot instead of you?”

She sighed, “well they kind of found out about our casual outings, what would you expect? You surely wouldn’t want people to start a rumour on you doing such things to score a job, wouldn’t you?”

Shiraishi looks troubled for a moment. However, she says nothing as she wrings the mop before placing it neatly on one side of the room. Sakurai inspects every single move she makes, waiting for an answer patiently.

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less. It will just be one of many rumours,” she finally said, looking straight into her eyes, “it wouldn’t make any difference. Just like how it wouldn’t stop people from offering me a job, it never did.”

Sakurai should have been able to predict that kind of answer from the girl, knowing that she basically lives with troubles, having her name written on the scandal newspaper at least once a month, even more lately. Sometimes she wondered what kind of thing happened to her, how come she easily turn a blind eye to everything and live her life like this.

Smoothly Shiraishi took her place to stand next to her, looking to her side so their eyes could meet, this time being the one who patiently waits for her to say something.

“However, it would stop my employer from hiring me. In all means of professionalism, I really enjoyed working with you, but I had to do something about that, I hope you can understand,” Sakurai admitted.

The girl went speechless, she looked down for a moment, seemingly forming words in her head carefully before finally speaking up, “I have no idea. I’m sorry for troubling you”

“It’s for the best,” Sakurai replied as a matter of fact.

Sakurai couldn’t help but feel guilty upon seeing Shiraishi sad face, but what did she expect? From the first place, it is inappropriate for a photographer like her to have a consensual relationship with a model. It’s not like she’s that important anyway, she’s just one from a pool of many girls for her, right?

“Hey, it’s not like it was serious or anything. I mean you also have other girls too,” Sakurai tried to console the girl.

“Idiot,” Shiraishi muttered, her voice cracking uncontrollably as tears starting to drop from her eyes. “You never get it, didn’t you? All those time I invite you to have dinner after a photoshoot, the shopping spree, even the stroll along the set. I told you that I’m willing to change, am I? Were you deaf back then or you’re just too stupid to understand?”

Shiraishi's hands weren’t even moving but Sakurai felt like it was a slap on the face. She was too blinded by media’s image of Shiraishi that she couldn’t decipher her attempts to change. It has been months since she started to put some distance between them and within that months she is aware that the model has been getting in too many problems, some even more extreme than ever.

Was that her way to mend her broken heart? The one that Sakurai Reika has unknowingly torn into pieces? Was she somehow has become a reason for Shiraishi’s concerning way of living? Slowly she turned towards the girl, her hand raised up to cup a side of the girl’s beautiful face, thumb tracing the line of tears to wipe it out.

“I’m sorry, please don’t cry,” she muttered, looking straight into the girl’s eye, hoping that it would calm her down a little. However, seeing how her tears keep dropping down she decided to close their distance and engulf her in a comforting hug, “I’m so stupid. Please forgive me.”

“It-It's not your fault. It’s just that I… I like Reika-san,” the taller girl finally mumbled after a while, “I want our relationship to be more than just a one-night thing. I have no idea… that it was like that.”

Sakurai broke their hug, looking at the person in front of her in disbelieves. For her, Shiraishi has always been an unpredictable riddle. Sakurai has always been curious about what she thinks, what she feels, what she wants to do, yet Sakurai has never dared to ask. She thought that it would be out of line if she does.

Sakurai knows she couldn’t deny the fact that deep-down her heart has fallen for her.

It’s not simply about how beautiful she looks, how mesmerizing she moves, or how her sweet fragrance mirrors her actual personality. It’s about how she wants to know about her days, whether it is joy or sadness she wants her to be able to share it with hers. It’s about how she wants to be the first one that laughs at her jokes, the one standing up proudly to gives a round of applause as she walks down the runway, the one that she can share her worries with, and the one that wipes the tears off her face when she’s crying.

There’s only one thing that she could think of in response to the confession. She raised her fingers to clear the leftover tears from the girl beautiful face. Trying to calm her racing heart before finally locked her eyes with her once more, gazing deep into the seemingly normal yet somehow breathtaking brown orbs.

“Then, be my girlfriend, would you?”

Shiraishi furrowed her eyebrows, “but… how about your job?”

“I am not your photographer anymore, I can’t see why they will consider it unprofessional. But if they still do, screw them! Even if they can kick me out, I don’t care,” Sakurai vented, “I’ve done enough. So now, all I want is our happiness. If it means that I must be selfish then, so be it. That’s why, Shiraishi Mai, I want you to be my girlfriend. Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes,” Shiraishi simply replied, her bright smile seems to match the sparks in her eyes as she reached for Sakurai’s arm and pull her closer.

Sakurai closes the tiny distance that is left between them, locking the girl’s lips with hers. Letting her lips showing her gratitude without any spoken words.

As the clock ticks the more heated their kiss gotten. Before this, it was gentle as if each of them just relishing the raw taste of each other’s lips. However, now their kiss is rough, so rough that from time to time Sakurai had to scold herself and pull back because she doesn’t want to bruise Shiraishi’s lips, knowing that it would be bad if she has any job tomorrow.

“Stop hesitating,” the girl sighed as Sakurai pulled back for the uncountable time that night. Shiraishi leaned forward once more, but this time she went for earlobe instead of lips, “I want you.”

Sakurai let the girl spun her around while keeping their distance close. Now their body is pressing towards each other with Shiraishi’s back touching the running machine behind her. Shiraishi raises her legs a bit, brushing her knees towards the smaller girl’s thigh, smiling when she could hear the person soft whimpers. Slowly her hands went further down, lightly traced the skin beneath Sakurai’s sleeveless top before fiddled with the button of the photographer’s short pants.

Shiraishi gave Sakurai’s earlobe one more tug as her hands skilfully unzipped the pants, impatiently tugging it down until it is not in her way, her other hand started to roam on Sakurai’s behind. It’s not long before Sakurai finally feels the other girl’s finger touching her core, her ministration quickly builds up to overwhelms Sakurai’s senses even more and more.

Sakurai isn’t exactly easy to please, but Shiraishi Mai is one of a few who could do that perfectly. She knows exactly what she needs to avoid, which part is more sensitive, and how she likes it the most. So, it’s wasn’t surprising that during the short time, Sakurai already feels like she’s reaching peak closer and closer.

“Nnnh.. W-wait,” she tried to stop the girl, trying to tell Shiraishi to give her a chance to last even longer. However, Shiraishi ignored her request, increasing her pace even more, mouth finally leaving Sakurai’s earlobe to go further down where the girl’s neck is. Her kiss is really rough as if she’s trying to draw blood. Sakurai grunted, her attempt to break out of the overwhelming sensation is futile as one of Shiraishi’s hand had her on a deadlock from behind. As if to make sure that she wouldn’t be able to get away.

When the wave of intense pleasure finally hit her, Sakurai threw her head back, pushing into the model’s shoulder, trembling a little as she could feel her body getting its release. Turning her head towards the girl behind her, she can see that she is smiling, enjoying the activity as much as she was. Sakurai lay her head on the crook of Shiraishi’s neck, trying to regain her breath after the intense activity that had occurred.

Slowly Sakurai turns her body so she is facing the girl properly. Brushing the stray hair out of the girl’s face before leaning in to kiss her lips.

“Now, let me return the favour,” Sakurai muttered as she started to nibble on Shiraishi’s bottom lip. Shiraishi closed her eyes, letting Sakurai’s hands roamed all over her fully clothed body, exploring every single inch of it.

“Um…” Suddenly Shiraishi pulled back, halting Sakurai from continuing her activity. “I am really gross right now. I mean, I was cleaning and all.”

“Well, you really do reek of laundry detergent, but that’s fine. I’ll clean you up.” Sakurai winked, giving the girl a soft kiss on the forehead. She tugged the soft fabric of on Shiraishi’s body down to expose more of the beautiful collarbones, leaving a trail of soft kisses along.

Her hands sneaked underneath the dark shirt, earning a soft moan from the girl. Sakurai hands slowly move further up, giving the girl a particular-look when she found nothing covering the breasts underneath.

So, the rumours about how the girl doesn’t like to wear anything at home is true.

Sakurai smirked her left hand moved to pull the garment up, revealing the mounds into her vision. Shiraishi averted her gaze elsewhere when Sakurai looked at her, clearly embarrassed by the whole situation. Slow and seductive, Sakurai glides her tongue from the girl’s belly button up to the perked bud on Shiraishi’s breast, earning a low moan from the girl which turns her on even more. Sakurai pulled down the girl’s short pants and the underwear all at once, leaving it around the knees as she softly runs her finger on the girl’s thigh.

“Do you have any photoshoot tomorrow?” She suddenly asked, demanding Shiraishi’s focus into the question.

“N-no, just a fashion show in the evening,” Shiraishi answered. Her feet rubbing against each other to be free of her pants completely.

“I don’t have to hold back, then,” Sakurai said as she brushed Shiraishi’s stray hair away. Shiraishi gulped down, her gut feeling is saying that something is about to happen. “Now, be a good girl and help yourself to the top of the machine.”

“W-what?” Shiraishi's voice had come out louder than she intended to. A result of the other girl absurd request.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Sakurai leaned forward to whisper it straight into her ear. Her warm breath tickles Shiraishi’s skin. “I want you.”

Somehow that last words managed to move Shiraishi, with the other girl stares not leaving her, she pulls herself up to the top of the machine. The gentle vibration from the machine has somehow caused something inside her stomach to stir in pleasure. She quickly closed the gap between her knees in reflex when she notices that Sakurai is staring at it.

Sakurai reached to lay her hands on each of her thighs. Eyes gazing up to see her. “Trust me. It’s going to be okay.”

She waited until Shiraishi finally nodded before separating the girl’s knees gently with her hand. Trailing a kiss as her lips move closer and closer to the girl’s core. Sakurai stopped for a moment before leaning in to give Shiraishi’s sensitive bud a little kiss, her hands worked their way to move the girl’s legs so it’s on either of her shoulders.

Sakurai starts to run her tongue across the intimate parts, her pace is controllably slow, inviting Shiraishi’s short patience to show themselves. The girl has both of her hands on the back of Sakurai’s head, exhaling loudly before finally say. “F-faster, please.”

She already knows well about Sakurai, how the photographer likes to hear her beg before letting her to get her release. Hence Sakurai doesn’t even need to prompt her to have her say it. But today, the smaller girl seems to be in a playful mood. Instead of increasing her pace, she actually stopped. Licking her lips as if she’s already satisfied.

“Reika-san,” Shiraishi called out.

“Hmm? That’s something that we need to work on first. Ditch the honorific and I will do what Mai want me to.”

The way the girl calls her name earned a blush from the already flustered girl. “Reika, please.”

“Wait, please what?” Sakurai tilted her head, giving Shiraishi’s thigh a soft kiss to tease her even more. Shiraishi squirmed, a part of her is even thinking to just do it herself if that means it will safe her from the embarrassment. However, with Sakurai’s hands holding hers, that seems to be impossible.

“Please make me…” Shiraishi finally surrendered as she took a deep breath. “Make me come.”

Sakurai leaned forward, her tongue started to probe inside. In just a matter of seconds, Shiraishi’s breathing pace has gone faster, her eyes shut as she immersed herself from the sensation that starts to take her over. When she finally comes, the pleasure hits her like a big wave, almost taking her consciousness away from the room.

Sakurai licked the juice that’s coming from the girl. Lips curled into a smile as she starts to work on her again. Earning a surprised reaction from the one on the top of the washing machine.

“Re-Reika, what are y- hnghh-”      

The girl question was interrupted as Sakurai suck the girl’s sensitive bud hard. Earning a soft whimper from Shiraishi, who by now is starting to have a problem with keeping her body sit up straight as her girlfriend continue the ministration.

Thump!  

Sakurai halted when she heard the sound, suddenly turning into worried as she inspected the girl in front of her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, I just hit my head a little,” Shiraishi managed to let out, one of her hand rubbing the back of her head.

Sakurai nodded and took a step back, earning a questioning look from the other girl. Surprisingly, Sakurai propped her hand on the machine next to her and climb up. Chuckling a little as she feels the vibration from the machine where Shiraishi’s sitting. Her hands reached to Shiraishi’s legs, gently moving it to the side so they’re face to face once more. Sakurai slowly comes even closer, knees brushing with the girl, body hovering above hers.

Shiraishi softly lay down as Sakurai placed her hands on either of the space next to Shiraishi’s head, the one on the top leaned forward, gently brushing their lips together. Slowly Shiraishi managed to shoo the little throbbing on the back of head away, her mind is pulled back into the taste of the other girl’s lips on hers, her hand moved to trace the skin along Sakurai’s cheek.

Little by little, one of Sakurai’s hand wander down south. Shiraishi broke their kiss when she suddenly felt two of Sakurai’s fingers entering hers. Eyes closed shut, mouth opened slightly, letting out a short low moan from time to time.

Sakurai watches as the girl slowly coming to her peak for the second time, smiling in happiness herself when she realised how lucky she is. The girl’s beauty is well known, but this side of Shiraishi Mai is not for the public to see. Sakurai hopes that from now on she’ll get to be the only one that could see it.

She leaned forward to give the girl a kiss on the forehead once Shiraishi’s eyes finally fluttered open, the smile on the beautiful lips matches her.

“Do you think your sister will be worried if I steal you for the rest of the night?” Sakurai asked, fingers playing the girl side bangs.

“I don’t think she would even notice anything. Her guest will surely keep her entertained.”

Sakurai raised her eyebrows in amusement, “Then, how about we go to your place and show these children how a real entertainment is done?”

“W-what? Reika that’s gross. Please don’t put any thought of my sister doing it. The last time it happened it stuck in my brain for like 2 months.”

“Hmm, then how about we go to my place and have a nice after midnight bath?” Sakurai offers, eyes looking at the girl in anticipation. “Cause now you smell like a mix of sweat and laundry and as much as I love you I’d still prefer the fragrant of my soap and shampoo.”

Shiraishi laughed, lifting her head a bit to land a kiss on the other girl’s cheek. “Let’s go!”

~ Fin ~

[sunriseyg]

kairos

so, i already put this on my ao3, but i thought i'd post some stuff on here too. 

pairing: yoonseok word count: 5103 genre: fluff, mild angst?

summary: The sunsets are beautiful, not quite like sunrises, although they have their own appeal. But sunsets are way more soothing, and to Yoongi they look even better when Hoseok’s warmth is accompanying them.

 KAIROS:   

Ancient greek – (n.) The perfect, delicate, crucial moment, the fleeting rightness of time and place that creates the opportune atmosphere for action, words or movement.

The sun is still brightening up the sky, slowly getting closer to the horizon. Dusk isn’t there yet, but the air is filled with longing and Yoongi finds himself waiting, expectation prickling at the back of his thoughts. Sitting on the little hill, surrounded by daisies and dandelions, Yoongi watches as the grass spreads in front of him, all around him, until he cannot distinguish the flowers from the ground anymore. When the other boy sits next to him, Yoongi fails to see where he has come from and, even if he were to find out, he wouldn’t know what to do with the information. The field around them is too big for him to attempt walking it, miles behind them just a small forest that Yoongi is always too scared to look at, let alone go through. “Where do you think you will be in five years?” The boy asks and Yoongi doesn’t dare to look at him, but he can feel his presence is positive, reassuring. 

Just like every time, Yoongi doesn’t feel like he’s in danger, he doesn’t feel scared, but he does feel some kind of distance between them, despite sitting right next to each other. Yoongi shakes his head, dark hair covering his smiling eyes, and a chuckle escapes him as he thinks of an answer. “I don’t know. Probably I’ll be here still, waiting for the sunset. Maybe I will have a dog, I've always wanted one.” Yoongi finally turns to him and he is not sure he stopped looking at the sun at all. The boy’s smile is bright as he meets his eyes, blinding even, and it somehow matches the warm feeling in Yoongi’s chest. “You should, dogs are great.” His voice reminds Yoongi of salted caramel, the perfect mix of sweet and salty creating a unique flavour. Yoongi likes mild things and the boy’s voice is mild in every aspect, yet never boring. If Yoongi had to assign him a season he would choose spring, when flowers seem to be keen on growing everywhere, brightening up the day, and everything is calm, right, balanced, but also colourful, different, unexpected. Their eyes eventually go back to the horizon, the sun still playing games with the few clouds, although now a slightly darker hue of blue is painting the sky; time always seems to go faster when they meet. “What about you? Where do you see yourself in five years?” Yoongi’s question is faint, a whisper in the vast field that could easily mix with the light wind blowing through their hair. Seconds pass – maybe minutes, Yoongi isn’t sure, it feels like an eternity regardless – but eventually, the boy parts his lips and the smile that Yoongi admires so much accompanies his reply. “I don’t like thinking too far ahead. Yes, one could say five years isn’t a long time, but it’s still…five years.” He seems to choose his words carefully and Yoongi tries hard to catch every single one of them, almost scared that if he doesn’t pay attention the other boy is going to stop sharing the thoughts that Yoongi is so interested in. A sigh precedes the rest of boy’s answer and Yoongi’s eyes focus on the purplish tint of the sky. “You could do so much in five years. You could turn your life around, really. So- this might sound cliché, but… I don’t focus too much on what the future holds. I’d rather see what I can do with my present. And right now this, whatever this is, it feels like I could be here for a while.” Despite his words, the boy doesn’t stay for long and Yoongi is almost disappointed. But he leaves with the promise of coming back and walks away right as Yoongi nods him goodbye, his silhouette standing out against the grass that’s now a darker colour, just like the sky.Yoongi doesn’t look at his back for more than five seconds and fights the urge of running after him, instead, he keeps on looking at the sunset until the stars are visible and the half moon is the only thing that keeps him company. 

.

.

.

A dandelion is blown away by the wind, stronger than usual but still pleasant. It forms patterns on the grass that Yoongi would try to decipher if he didn’t feel so tired, although he can’t remember doing anything that effort worthy before going to the hill. He feels like he’s been there forever, really. Once again, Yoongi is sitting and waiting for something, the anticipation in his chest extends to his fingers as he strips a few strands of grass from the ground to twirl them in his hands. When one of them breaks, Yoongi lets the whole bunch go, only to repeat the action shortly after.

It’s not time for the sunset to arrive yet and Yoongi wonders if maybe the right hour is the key to their encounters. But he then remembers all the times they met at night, or at dawn, or in the middle of the morning, and his theories are gone just as quick as he formulated them. Yoongi lets a sigh out, gaze falling on another dandelion next to him, still unscathed by the breeze.

Just as he’s about to grab the delicate flower, a shadow covers the sun and Yoongi looks up, meeting the eyes of the usual visitor that he’s come to like so much.

“Hope you haven’t been waiting for long!” He is beaming and Yoongi can’t help but compare him to the big star lighting up the sky once more. “What makes you think I was waiting?” Yoongi’s reply is met with a sweet laugh and, as the boy sits next to him, Yoongi widens his eyes as a revelation hits him. They don’t know each other’s names. They have been meeting like this for so long, but they never introduced themselves.

“What’s your name?” Yoongi questions suddenly, eyes full of hope and curiosity.

“Huh? Don’t you remember?” The boy replies with a surprised tone, yet seeming somewhat amused.

“I…don't. I’m sorry.” Yoongi is sure he has never asked the boy for his name, but maybe he is wrong. Embarrassment fills him as he realises that maybe he just made a fool of himself, maybe he did tell him his name once and he just forgot. He doesn’t understand how because Yoongi is sure he would remember the name of someone so beautiful. How long has it been since they know each other anyway? The sunset arrives and they’re quiet, Yoongi doesn’t dare speak again in fear of making things worse, but the boy doesn’t seem to mind. .

.

.

Sand.

It’s everywhere, it covers his feet as he slowly uses them to dig holes in the golden specks. This time they’re meeting on a beach and the sea’s waves create one of the most calming noises Yoongi has ever heard. There’s no one else around him and the sun is almost gone behind the horizon, drawing a landscape in the blue sky that amazes Yoongi each and every time. No matter how many sunsets he looks at, every single one of them is different and he likes to admire them all.

The boy sits down next to him, but Yoongi wouldn’t have noticed hadn’t it been for his words.

“So, did you remember?”

He always greets him with a question these days, Yoongi notices, leaving him baffled and prompting him to look for words when he’s less prepared for it. Yoongi turns to him and his breath gets caught in his throat as he just looks more handsome than always. He’s wearing a dark blue plaid shirt over a white t-shirt that seem to fit incredibly well with the colour scheme of the scenery. And just like that, Yoongi remembers.

Hoseok.

He is sure that’s his name and, as Yoongi says it out loud, he realises that he had known it all along. It sounds like toffee in his mouth, like candy that pleasantly melts at the touch with the tongue, and Hoseok’s smile is brighter than ever while he nods vehemently. “Yeah! Well done, Yoongi.” They just smile at each other for a while and Yoongi thinks his heart is going to fall right out of his chest if he doesn’t stop getting so happy over these small gestures. Remembering his name just now is something that, in Yoongi’s opinion, Hoseok should be at least a bit upset about, but there’s no trace of sadness in his eyes, he seems just plain… happy. Yoongi can feel blood creeping up his neck and filling his cheeks, so he turns away, hoping that the sound of the water crashing on the shore will calm him down. It doesn’t help much. .

.

.

Every time they meet it’s like the first and the last in just one encounter. Yoongi doesn’t expect Hoseok to show up, and he doesn’t know if he will be back when he leaves. But he does, every single time he comes back, and Yoongi feels his lungs hug his heart a little bit tighter, just a little bit more, as if to stop it from getting too big and spilling from his mouth.

He thought he loved the colours of the sky, he thought he loved the light of the stars, but there is nothing he loves more than sitting there and sharing all that with Hoseok, because there is nothing he likes more than seeing him smile.

“Someday we could travel,” Yoongi says after they’ve been silent for a long time, the light wind being almost as quiet as them. “We could see the world, maybe live together. That way we wouldn’t have to meet like this.” His head is close to Hoseok’s as they lay on the grass, as they observe the starry sky above them, specks of light flickering in their eyes and forming constellations of their own.

Hoseok turns his head to look at Yoongi’s profile, but the other boy doesn’t turn around, not until he can sense something is not right in the way Hoseok is looking at him. Then, he does, and what he sees almost destroys him. He was expecting Hoseok to smile, brightly as ever, and to tell him that yes, they could, hell, he wanted him to say that they should have done that right now, left town for good, never to be seen again.

But Hoseok’s frown is far from a smile. Mouth agape, like words should be coming out of it, but got lost somewhere along the way, Hoseok stares at Yoongi with empty eyes and the other boy just doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why Hoseok looks so… sad. Crestfallen. Like a person who’s about to tell a very expectant kid that Santa doesn’t exist. Like someone who’s thinking of all the lies in the world, while knowing he has no choice but to tell the truth. Like, as much as Hoseok wants to agree with Yoongi, he just can’t do that.

“Yoongi…” Hoseok starts, and Yoongi knows that he doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to, he wants him to shut up already, he wants to grab his hand and run away into the forest, no matter how scary it looks. With Hoseok he feels like he can do anything, but not if he keeps on talking, not if he says those words Yoongi is sure he is going to hate. But he’s petrified under Hoseok’s stare, and all he can do is hope that his perception is wrong and maybe he will say yes. Maybe they will run away together.

Hoseok’s phrase stops there, though, and Yoongi stares at his lips as the other boy closes them in a faint, small, smile. Hoseok nods, but his eyes are still sad. Yoongi ignores that, he ignores the feeling in his gut yelling at him that they can’t run away anytime soon, that his hopes are impossible, even though he doesn’t really understand why they are so. He ignores all that, and ignores the fluttering in his stomach, the pounding in his heart, as he grabs Hoseok’s hand and holds it tight.

He can feel Hoseok’s surprised look on him, but Yoongi’s eyes are back on the stars, trying to ignore the blush he is sure is appearing on his cheeks too. .

.

.

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? It might as well be years because Yoongi can’t tell the difference between a second and a day now, he only knows it’s been too long. Too long since he’s been waiting for Hoseok, too long since the sun has set and the night has taken over. He glances at the stars and he realises how much he got used to Hoseok’s presence next to his, how much he feels like leaving that empty space on his side is just not right. Yoongi sighs for the umpteenth time as he grabs some grass strands and fiddles with them, thoughts of Hoseok’s smile filling his mind.

Over time they have bonded quite a lot, but Yoongi feels like he doesn’t really know who Hoseok is, despite the sensation in his gut telling him that they’ve been knowing each other for a very long time. They kept on meeting, asking each other questions that varied from their opinions on life, passing for opinions on sunsets, and even on what kind of music would bees like. Yoongi catches himself thinking about the one time he had asked Hoseok about his family and he had animatedly talked about his younger sister for a very long time, yet Yoongi didn’t mind at all and just enjoyed the fond smile on Hoseok’s face.

Maybe he’d gone too far. Maybe he should have shut up. Maybe, Hoseok had finally gotten tired of him and left him for good. The grass strands break in Yoongi’s hands and an angry grunt escapes him. .

.

.

Sunlight hits his face almost like a flashlight pointed directly into his eyes, and Yoongi shields himself with a hand as the cloud that was obscuring the sun just a second before moves away and makes space for the rays to come through. Yoongi feels exactly like the sky above him today, a bit cloudy, looking tense and uncertain.

His hands find the rocks underneath him, and he grabs a few, looking for the right one. A lake spreads in front of him and its water looks like an even and neatly polished piece of glass, still and calm like few things Yoongi has seen in his life. Then, a rock skips on the water, breaking that perfect surface, and then another, and another, and another. Yoongi throws rocks and some skip like he wants them to, some don’t, until he’s run out of rocks that work and he just tosses them, listening to them flop and sink in one brief moment.

“Havin’ fun?” He almost jumps at the voice, but he doesn’t really get the chance to react because Hoseok is sitting next to him and smiling so widely and oh god, the sun is shining again.

“I–” Yoongi only manages to trail out, rock in his hand as his arm slowly lowers back to the ground. His eyes are stuck on Hoseok, as the other boy grabs his hand and opens it, taking the rock in his own palm. Then, he puts the rock back on the ground and interlocks fingers with Yoongi, smile yet to fade from his face. Yoongi is baffled, he’s dumbfounded, he’s every synonym in the world that express how fucking shocked he is to see the other boy there. But he’s also in love, oh, so much, and he’s realised that just now, right in this moment, as Hoseok looks at him with the same glint in his eyes, the same fondness Yoongi thought another human being never could have had for him.

“I’m sorry. I should have come back earlier. I just got scared– and things came up–“

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” Yoongi smiles and squeezes his hand tighter; there’s no way he’s letting go anytime soon.

When they kiss it’s sweet, and long due, and everything Yoongi was waiting for. Doubt is still trying to make space at the back of his mind, but he pushes it away and enjoys Hoseok’s embrace. His heart is a peaceful lake and Hoseok is skipping rocks on its surface, creating beautiful patterns Yoongi will never get tired of. .

.

.

The meetings start again, and Hoseok is always bright, always calm, always what Yoongi needs, when he needs him. One day he brings him flowers, and Yoongi doesn’t know what to say except why?

“They reminded me of you. Freesias are so pretty and delicate.” Hoseok explains, like he doesn’t understand how Yoongi couldn’t come to such a simple conclusion.

“Thank you.” The words are almost stuck in his throat, but they fight to come out and they seem to make Hoseok grin wider as Yoongi grabs the bouquet and smells the flowers.

Freesias are really pretty. .

.

.

They’re back on their hill, a little bit closer to the forest this time, and Yoongi feels anxious about it. He doesn’t know why, but no matter how calming Hoseok’s presence is, that forest creeps him out. The other boy seems to notice as Yoongi frantically turns back to check that the forest is there, unmoving and silent.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asks, worry painting a picture on his features that makes Yoongi’s insides squirm. He doesn’t like to see him frown.

“Nothing.” Yoongi looks again towards the horizon and scoots a little closer, until Hoseok’s arm wraps around him and he can lean his head on the younger boy’s shoulder. “I just feel like something might come out of there and grab us.” He explains, realising how Hoseok’s thumb is slowly caressing circles on his upper arm.

“Don’t worry, that forest only has trees and maybe some birds and insects in it. Nothing will harm you.” Hoseok presses a kiss to his temple, and Yoongi has never been much for prolonged skinship, but he feels like he could stay like that forever. .

.

.

The sunsets are beautiful, not quite like sunrises, although they have their own appeal. But sunsets are way more soothing, and to Yoongi they look even better when Hoseok’s warmth is accompanying them.

“I thought that maybe you’re right. Maybe we can leave here.” Hoseok says all of a sudden, and Yoongi did not expect that at all. He thinks that maybe Hoseok likes to surprise him more than he likes to be surprised, but he can’t help a smile as he tilts his head to the side in a curious stare.

“Soon. I feel like soon we’ll both be ready to leave and live our life like we always wanted.” The other boy continues, once more like there’s only one easy solution to every question Yoongi has. And Yoongi doesn’t ask more, that’s all he needs for him to believe again that yes, they can make it out of there. .

.

.

 The forest starts scaring him less. He still likes sitting away from it more. .

.

.

Nothing cheers Yoongi up more than hearing Hoseok’s laugh, and it cheers him up even more when he’s the one to make it happen. Every time they meet it’s like time freezes over and speeds up at the same time, because thousands of sunsets could go by, and even more sunrises could fly past them, and Yoongi would want to spend every single one of them with Hoseok without ever getting bored of it. He is sure of it like he’s sure that the moon is going to shine, he’s sure of it like he’s sure of his love for Jung Hoseok. So he tells him.

“Yoongi, I…” Hoseok’s smile could obliterate the stars and Yoongi feels like he might get at least a first-degree burn from the blush on his own cheeks, so he fiddles with the grass strands – it’s a habit now –because Hoseok’s eyes on him suddenly became too much to handle. “… I love you too. I- I’ve known it for a long time, actually.”

The other boy’s hand finds Yoongi’s easily and it untangles his fingers just like the kiss they share melts the knots in Yoongi’s stomach. Once again, Yoongi can’t believe this is really happening to him, he can’t believe he’s really living this moment because it’s too perfect, too right, too everything. And yet, Yoongi feels like nothing could ruin it. .

.

. It happens one day when Hoseok is just a little late and Yoongi doesn’t really mind– he trusts him now; he knows he will be there soon. He’s sitting on the grass, the hill is peaceful, and he’s mindlessly counting down the minutes until Hoseok shows up.

Except a dog shows up instead.

It almost scares the lungs out of Yoongi, because he is absorbed in picking the grass around him as he usually does when waiting for Hoseok, and then he feels something nuzzling at his neck. He jumps up and almost falls over right after, but the dog is sitting there, looking up at him with big eyes and dangling tongue. It’s big, and white, and fluffy, and Yoongi would be cooing if it wasn’t for the minor heart attack he’s trying to recover from.

It barks softly at Yoongi after he has stared at him for maybe too long, and it starts nuzzling at the boy’s legs. Yoongi assumes he’s demanding pets, so he reaches out a hand and slowly pats the dog on its head, at first carefully, then the dog seems to get more excited as a chuckle escapes Yoongi, who crouches down and starts petting the dog with more confidence.

Then the dog gets up and barks at Yoongi again, still with the same energy, that demanding way that dogs have when they want attention. Yoongi doesn’t understand, he has been petting him for the longest time, and yet the dog doesn’t seem satisfied with that anymore. It’s looking at Yoongi like it has a secret that it wants to reveal and when Yoongi realises that he’s following the dog into the forest it’s too late. He’s right in front of it now, he could reach out a hand and caress the bark of the first tree, but the feeling in his stomach stops him. The dog is next to him, it barks once more, waking Yoongi from his thoughts.

“I can’t go in there, it’s too scary,” Yoongi tells the dog, feeling somehow it can understand his words despite the species barrier. “Hoseok will be here soon too, I can’t leave.”

The dog just nudges Yoongi’s leg again at that, and Yoongi throws it a worried look. When the dog nudges him and whimpers, Yoongi crouches down to caress a hand into its soft fur.

“I understand that you want me to go, but why?” Yoongi looks the dog in the eyes and really feels like it could speak back to him at any moment. “This is the closest I’ve ever gotten to it.” He murmurs, eyes trailing back to the deep coat of leaves. He can see between the trees, he can see the ground covered in leaves and rocks and bushes inside. He can see how the sunlight gets filtered through the branches and he can see the patterns that get formed by the shadows. He is in awe and he is terrified and he is doubting all of his fears and he feels them simmering inside him. Nothing will harm you. Hoseok’s words echo through his mind as he looks back to the patch of grass he was sitting on before. Maybe he can do it. Maybe he can take a few steps in and go back right away. Then Hoseok will be happy to know he managed to get close.

The dog barks again and this time it comes from in front of him. Yoongi eyes its white paws walking on the leafed path between the first trees and he’s suddenly scared for it. But the dog walks a bit further inside and then stops to look at Yoongi, expectant glint in its eyes.

The sun is setting and Hoseok isn’t there yet, but something is pulling Yoongi inside the forest now.

Just a few steps. He’ll take a stride until he reaches the dog and then he will walk back.

One last look behind his shoulder and then Yoongi takes a breath. Clenches his fists. The dog is still there, patiently observing his every movement.

And then, he’s walking past the first tree. Yoongi doesn’t return to the grass patch.

Every time Hoseok leaves the hospital there’s a part of him that stays there, his mind travelling back to how cold Yoongi’s hand seems, and how his heart accelerates when he sees him laying there, eyes closed and only a beeping monitor indicating that he’s still alive. He hates it and loves it, that beeping, that constant sound. It’s repetitive and static and Hoseok knows it’s the only thing guaranteeing him that Yoongi is there, he is right there. Yet, he wishes he could get some other response when he talks to him and not the cold, distant, beeping of the machine.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Hoseok tells him, squeezing his hand and kissing him on the forehead, like he always does when he leaves that cold room, the only thing to brighten it up are the flowers that he had brought him. Freesias wer– are his favourites.

Hoseok knows there might not be a tomorrow.

So he kisses his lips too this time, chastely, while holding back tears because he can’t let Yoongi see him cry, he won’t allow it.

Yoongi has been in a coma for two years and for two years Hoseok has been yearning for him, waiting for him to wake up, to reply to his calls, to open his eyes and hug him and tell him that it’s okay. It’s okay, they’re together, it’s okay. That they don’t have to hide anymore, Hoseok doesn’t have to pretend to be “his best friend” anymore, they can just leave and love each other and be who they want to be. Hoseok had a dream once, where all of that happened, and they were in a field and it was beautiful and perfect because there was no one but them, looking at the sunset like it was the most precious thing in the world after the embrace that they were sharing.

Hoseok knows that’s not happening anytime soon, because Yoongi’s parents told him they’ve been considering putting and end to it, and there’s nothing Hoseok can do to argue.

“He wouldn’t want to live like this.” Is the only reasoning they gave him. Hoseok wanted to yell, to argue that he would want them to believe in him, to believe that he can live at all, he would want so many things and he wouldn’t want them to give up. But he didn’t. He swallowed his tears like he learned to since he was a kid, and nodded.

“We know you care about him, and we appreciate all you’ve been doing so far. But we’re letting go and so should you.” Yoongi’s father had put a hand on his shoulder, a gentle look in his eyes, almost as if he knew. Yoongi’s parents have always been more understanding than Hoseok’s, they know and they accept their son for who he is, but Hoseok wishes they also understood how wrong wanting to make that decision is.

He cries when he gets home, and then cries some more, until his lungs feel sore, just like his heart has been feeling since Yoongi got rushed to the hospital. He curses, and yells, and he lets it all out until it’s the middle of the night and he realises he hasn’t had a proper meal yet. Hoseok doesn’t care, he’s not hungry.

He’s losing all hope, he’s losing everything, and he feels like he’s about to lose his mind too because he suddenly can’t believe his ears and eyes. His phone is ringing, and it’s Yoongi’s mother, and he’s scared.

“Y-yes? H-hello?” The words come out dragged, like he really doesn’t want to say them and instead there’s a small thread forcing them out from his throat until they fall out. “Is everything o-okay?”

“Hoseok.” Yoongi’s mother's voice seems just as tired as his, but he can’t decipher it, he can’t figure out if she’s about to say something incredibly beautiful or incredibly horrible.

“He’s- He is-“ She chokes up on her words and he still doesn’t understand. He is what? Awake? Alive? Or… no, Hoseok doesn’t want to think about it.

“Just get here.” This time is Yoongi’s father talking, and that’s all he needs. There’s hope in him again, he doesn’t know what has happened, but maybe it’s not bad news. The call is over before he can ask, and in his heart there’s fear and longing and anticipation and worry. But he runs, he runs out of the house, he runs to get a taxi, he runs to the hospital. He doesn’t care about what it is that the nurses are telling him, he doesn’t care about getting his name signed down, he doesn’t even care about his scarf getting lost somewhere along the way because all he cares about right now is Min Yoongi and whether he’s alive or not, whether he can hug him again or not, whether he can see him smile and hear him laugh and talk or not. It’s the middle of the night and Jung Hoseok can feel his heart thumping louder than his own thoughts, but when he reaches the door to Yoongi’s room, he needs to stop and catch his breath.

Every moment he’s ever spent with the other boy comes back to his mind. The first time they held hands, the first time they kissed, the first time they realised they were each other’s everything. Hoseok treasures every second he’s passed with Yoongi, even the bad ones, even the ones where they thought they hated each other and especially the ones where they were proved wrong. He can feel tears coming at the back of his throat, but he swallows them down.

Finally, Hoseok holds his breath and pushes the door open.