#Inevitable showtime is inevitable | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alwaysonthemend · 5 months

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Author’s Note: Hello my friends. I’ve been having the worst writer's block of my life and I am so so sorry that it’s been so long. This fic has been in my drafts for forever so I decided to finish it up since my brain is all out of new ideas. That being said, I’ve always planned on this being a two-part story so I thought I would leave you all with part 1 for now while I try to get my shit together lol. As always, I hope you enjoy. And if you see any typos… no you didn’t. Also don’t worry I promise that part 2 will have hella smut ;)

Content Warnings: Angst / talk of sex (non graphic - happened in the past) / sadness / feelings of not being good enough / low self esteem / unrequited love (for now) / miscommunication

Word Count: 8k

My Taglist: Here

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

Maybe it's just the excitement of the last show. Maybe it’s nerves or just the tension and energy oozing from everyone as they all prepared for showtime. Maybe it's the fear. Maybe it's the joy of celebration, or maybe it’s the dread of things going wrong. And maybe, if you’re really honest with yourself, it’s the goodbye that stands menacingly on the horizon – like a sentry waiting to capture your heart in his iron first. Maybe it’s none of those things, or maybe it’s a combination of all of them. But it’s worse tonight – that need that you have for him. The one that seems like it’s become a constant storm cloud that hovers oppressively over your heart, no matter how hard you try to push it down. It’s still there – lingering and festering like a wound. You push the feeling away for what feels like the thousandth time. Tonight isn’t the night.

Show nights are hectic, especially a night as important as this one; Dreams in Gold is drawing towards its inevitable ending, and everyone wants these last few shows to finish on a high note – preferably with as few hiccups as possible. There’s only a handful more after tonight – with just a small break for the boys in between, before the last leg kicks off. And your job is simple: make sure the boys look good while doing what they do best.

Josh’s makeup is usually first, as he prefers to be ready to go a lot earlier than the rest of the band. A fact which, as he’s stated numerous times, is due in part to his nerves and anxiety before he takes the stage. His jumpsuits may be his armor, but his makeup is his war paint – equally as important (if not moreso) than his beautiful outfits. He’s jittery as he sits in his chair, leg bouncing and fingers drumming endlessly on his knee.

“Josh,” you mutter as you swipe some gold glitter across his eyelids, “you’ve got to stop moving.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles, voice soft as he tries to rest it for the night. “Just nervous.”

“I know.” You tell him, giving his knee an affectionate squeeze. “But you all are going to do great. You always do.” You pull out a tube of mascara and delicately swipe it through his lashes to complete his look. “What is it you always say? ‘Fuck fear’?”

Josh gives you an airy chuckle and a lopsided grin.

“Something like that.”

“Well, try and follow some of your own advice, Oh Wise One.”

He just rolls his eyes playful at you, but the tension eases from his shoulders a tiny bit. Small victories.

There’s comfortable silence for a while as you methodically glue a few rhinestones to his cheek bones.

“And when are you going to follow my advice?”

You quirk your brow at him quizzically, eyes staying focused on his rhinestones as you attempt to make them as symmetrical as possible.

“When are you going to say ‘fuck fear’?” He straightens his posture slightly as you pull away from him, brows pinching together. “The phrase seems…” he waves his hand vaguely towards you. “...particularly apt for your current situation.”

You turn your back to him to place the rhinestone case on the counter. You know exactly what he’s getting at but you’re in no mood to discuss such matters with him. He caught onto you a long time ago – his remarkable ability to pick up on subtle nuances and feelings from everyone around him becoming the bane of your existence for the past few months.

“Sooner or later, you’ll have to admit the truth to him. Once you admit it to yourself, of course.”

“I’m not admitting anything to anyone, Joshua.” You still haven’t turned back to look at him, instead busying yourself with pulling out the items you need for Sam next. “I wish you would just let this go. It’s just a stupid. It’ll go away.”

You both know that you’re lying.

“I highly doubt that, love.” Josh says sweetly, rising from his chair to come and stand next to you. He places his hand on your shoulder and the coldness of his fingers seeps into your skin at the contact – yet the warmth of the gesture isn’t lost on you.

“I know you.” He pauses, grinning a bit. “And trust me when I say I know him… given the whole twin thing, and all that. This isn’t just a passing feeling.”

“Maybe for me it isn’t.” You say, a slight bit of resentment bleeding out in your tone as you pull open a makeup drawer with more force than necessary. “But he’s just so…” You trail off, looking for the right word.

“Aloof?” Josh supplies knowingly, hand dropping from your shoulder to rest at his side.

You nod once at him, eyes dropping to stare at the bottles of foundation that line the counter in front of you.

“That’s his own fear getting in the way. You know how he is: him and emotions don’t get along too well. They haven’t since we were kids. He prefers to lock them all up and throw away the key instead of allowing himself to be vulnerable.”

“He doesn’t owe me anything – especially not vulnerability. We got drunk and fucked each other in a bar bathroom… hardly romantic or vulnerable to begin with.” You bite your lip, the unwanted and all-encompassing hurt from that night rearing its ugly head yet again. “And we both agreed that it was a mistake, and then we moved on. There isn’t anything else to it.”

“Sunflower,” Josh says, the nickname falling from his lips in almost a whisper, “you and I – and him for that matter, know that neither of you have moved on.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t know what there is to say. You want to believe him, you really do. You want to allow that shriveled up little seedling of hope in your chest to bloom. But you know better. You learned better.

“You don’t believe me.” It’s not a question. He knows you don’t.

“I wish I could. But he won’t give me anything to go on. One minute he’s there next to me and he’s flirting and being so sweet… and the next it’s like he’s a million miles away – barely even looking at me.” You sigh, and the weight of it all seems to press down on your shoulders as you slump forward, allowing yourself a moment of weakness with the kind man who stands in front of you. “I just wish he would talk to me. Why won’t he just talk to me?”

You hate the tears that burn behind your eyes and you hate the ache that opens up like a chasm in your chest. You wish you could hate him, too. Lord knows you’ve tried.

“Jake isn’t the best at words. But he’ll try. For you, I know he will.” He offers you a kind smile that soothes your aching heart a little bit. “Go to him. I promise he’ll talk if you’d just give him the opportunity to. He’s too afraid to approach you first.”

You glance at your watch.

“It’s getting close. I still need to do Sammy and Danny.”

Josh hears the unspoken dismissal and he inclines his head to you.

“Of course. I’ll leave you alone now. You know I’m only pestering you because I love you and want you to be happy.”

“I love you too, Josh.” You giggle. “Why couldn’t I have just fallen for you instead of your brother? You’re so much easier to talk to.” You lament, giving him a self-deprecating smile.

Josh’s eyes glitter with amusement and he grins at you, the apples of his cheeks growing pink with laughter.

“Oh I wish, sweet Sunflower.” He bows his head, allowing the curls on his forehead to fall slightly. “But alas, my heart belongs to another, anyway. A losing battle it would have been.” He pitches his tone upwards, summoning his most theatrical voice. “My heart burns with undying love for someone else.” He says, raising his arms with an obnoxiously over-the-top flourish.“My soul has been intertwined with another. The call of the universe summoned us tog-”

“Okay, yeah I’m sure.” You interrupt him, shaking your head in laughter at his dramatics. “Give your undying love a kiss for me, would you? In case I leave before you all?”

“Trying to steal him from me?” Josh asks, placing a hand dramatically over his heart, eyes widening in mock surprise for a moment before smiling at you warmly.“Of course I will. But you better not leave before saying goodbye. And that’s an order.”

You give him a salute.

“Yes sir, your majesty.”

And with that, he’s gone – curly head disappearing out the corridor and leaving you with a head swimming with too many thoughts to process.

Your relationship with Jake has been special from the start. From the first moment that you’d met him, you’d been drawn to him – like a moth to a flame. He made you feel alive and excited and terrified all at once. Trading flirtations with him became second nature – you poking fun at his pension for dressing in all black (pointedly referring to him as emo despite how much he denies it), and he always made sure to laugh whenever your naturally clumsy nature caused you to trip or drop something. But there’s never any malice in your little exchanges – your words instead dripping with thinly veiled joy (and perhaps a bit of nerves) as the two of you interact with each other.

Even your nickname comes from Jake. That first day that you had met him, you’d been wearing a dress with sunflowers on it. He’d complemented it – telling you the flowers brought out the color of your eyes. And so maybe you’d worn a pair of sunflower earrings the next time you saw him (though you’d never admit to him that you did it on purpose), and Jake had been quick to point them out before jokingly referring to you as Sunflower. And the name had stuck – a fact which you were infinitely glad of.

Your flirting with Jake continued to escalate as the two of you got to know each other better and it didn’t take long for your crush on him to develop into something more. Jake had carved a space for himself within your heart and no one else could fill it like he could. And before long, those flirty conversations between the two of you snowballed into a drunken, passionate-filled night in a bar bathroom – fueled on by lowered inhibitions and post-show adrenaline. It was fast and hard, but you’d enjoyed yourself thoroughly and hope had unfurled itself in your chest like a flower in the sun. Though it quickly withered and died once the afterglow had died off and Jake had told you plainly that it was an alcohol-fueled mistake.

He’d said sorry, and he looked like he really was. And you’d assured him that there were no hard feelings and that yes, it had in fact been a mistake. Though it was a mistake for different reasons than what he had thought. For him – at least you assumed, the mistake lies in that he allowed himself to become carried away, drunk and tense from a show. For you, though, the mistake is that you fell for him… and in the fact that you now knew what it was like to have him – only for him to be promptly ripped away from you again. Which only made his absence all the worse.

And although you’d both promised to act like it never happened, things changed. He grew distant. Never cold, but the familiarity and ease that had once existed between the two of you had been shattered beyond repair. No more flirty conversations or silly exchanges between the two of you. Instead, awkwardness has taken up residence. Every now and then, that old joviality would slip back into your interactions with him but he quickly catches himself and reels it back in. It’s confusing and hurtful, and you often lose sleep over his constant swinging back and forth. Regret lays heavy in your mind when you think back to that night at the bar, wishing that you’d put a stop to things before it got so far.

You’re snapped from your melodramatic thoughts by Sam boisterously crashing into the room, a goofy smile plastered over his face.

“I’m ready to be bedazzled!” He exclaimed, planting his lanky form into the chair and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook you, and the sadness of the moment prior is shoved from your mind as you fall into easy conversation with him.

Danny follows soon after Sam, and in the bustle of getting everything ready, you almost forget about everything. Though the thoughts still remain, brewing in the back of your mind like a thunderstorm just waiting to be unleashed.

The show is spectacular, as is to be expected from your boys. As nervous as they might be beforehand, they never fail to deliver a jaw-dropping performance. You’d watched from the sides, soaking up the energy of the last show and doing your best to not think about the months that you were about to spend without getting to see them at all. Though you all live in Nashville, there’s no reason for you to see any of them outside of work. And even though they’re technically your bosses, they have all quickly wormed their way into your heart, earning themselves the title of ‘friend’ above all else.

The night is turning out to be magical and you’re struck with a sudden surge of courage as you stand there watching them perform– or more specifically, watching him perform.

He’s truly in his element up there on stage, shredding on his guitar like there’s no tomorrow. You always enjoy getting to see this side of Jake, given how reserved he tends to be in his normal day-to-day life. In the time that you’ve known him, you’ve discovered that Jake is stoic and reserved around those he doesn’t know – content to sit in the corner and watch; but when he’s around people that he knows and trusts, his humor and kindness shine brighter than anyone else’s you’d ever met. You’d seen before how the fans often referred to Josh and Jake as the sun and moon, affectionately pointing out their subtle differences in personality despite being twins. But you had learned that Jake is by no means any less affectionate and joyful as Josh is, he’s just content to be a little quieter about it – making those times that he is loud all the more special.

Once the show was over, the boys and some of the other crew were planning on going out to celebrate – apparently having booked a private room at a restaurant downtown in which everyone could make a little merry before officially saying goodbye. You hadn’t wanted to go, but Josh and Danny had given you their best puppy dog eyes, and you’d begrudgingly agreed to accompany them.

Which is how you find yourself sitting at a table in the corner, brooding over your earlier conversation with Josh. With the tour being on break for now, you won’t be seeing any of them until it starts up again. And although you’re confident that Josh, Sam, and Danny will probably stay in contact with you here and there, (and maybe ask to get lunch every now and again) you know for a fact that the same can’t be said for Jake. If the past few months were anything to go by, you know that it’s going to be radio silence as soon as tonight is over. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he goes around the room, making conversation with seemingly everyone but you. It hurts, and maybe it’s the liquor that’s coursing through your veins or the months of hurt finally spilling over, but you decide that enough is enough. You’re tired of living on what ifs and maybes. You hear Josh’s voice in your head, clear as a bell: Fuck fear.

With that thought in mind, you down the rest of your drink and stand up, determined to finally speak with Jake about what’s going on between the two of you. He’s across the room, talking with Danny’s drum kit tech. Jake looks effortlessly gorgeous, just as he always does.

As you begin your trek across the room the nerves and adrenaline kick in. You wipe your sweaty palms on your pants and roll your shoulders back.

He’s right there. All you have to do is ask him if you can speak with him for a moment. You know he’ll agree to – despite everything, Jake is still one of the kindest people you’ve ever met. He’d never intentionally upset you… or anyone for that matter.

Josh had told you that Jake feels the same. Josh knows Jake better than anyone… and you trust Josh. And you trust Jake not to intentionally hurt you. He’s just afraid – just like you are.

His back is to you. Easiest thing in the world to just… touch his arm to get his attention.

Just as you reach your hand out to touch his shoulder, a girl who you’ve never seen before slides up next to him, comfortably easing her arm around his waist. Jake throws his arm over her shoulders and draws her in close and you watch in detached horror as he turns his head to face her and presses a kiss to her cheek.

You draw back as if burned, spinning on your heel with the plan of getting the fuck out of here as fast as you can, hurt and embarrassment washing over you in waves – mingling with each other and making the perfect concoction for a panic attack.

Frantically, your eyes scan the crowd in search of Josh: your one comfort throughout all of this, but you don’t see him. God, where the fuck is he? Of all the times-

“Sunflower?”

It’s Jake’s voice, and you turn to see him, Danny’s tech, and the girl looking at you in concern.

“Are you alright?” Jake asks, dropping his arm from around the girl to turn around more fully.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” Your voice comes out breathless and a little frantic, doing a poor job of hiding your impending meltdown.

“Are you sure? You look a little-” Jake starts.

“I was actually just about to leave. Sorry.” You interrupt him, unwilling to spend a moment longer watching someone else have what you want so badly.

“Already?” Danny’s tech asks, and if you were in a better state of mind you’d probably feel guilty for not being able to remember his name. Instead, your mind is focused on the mounting panic rising in your chest, threatening to overtake you as you desperately try to keep your cool.

“I’m a little tired.” You supply vaguely, eyes scanning the crowd again in search of Josh. Still no sign of him.

“Well, I was hoping to introduce you to Lindsey.” Jake says, causing your eyes to cut back to him. He’s smiling, but you can’t decipher the odd look in his eyes.

“Hi.” She says, giving you a kind smile. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

She extends her hand for you to shake and your eyes briefly snap to Jake’s. He looks on edge, like he’s waiting for something. Your approval? You’re not sure.

You shake the girl’s hand.

“Hi. I’m Y/n.”

Lindsey smiles. She’s pretty. Very pretty. She’s not wearing a lot of makeup, just a little bit of mascara and some blush. Her clothes aren’t overly flashy and her eyes seem soft and kind. She’s exactly the type of girl you can imagine Jake going for and the thought makes you want to throw up. But instead, like the adult you are, you plaster a smile on your face to match hers.

“Jake’s told me a little bit about you. He says you’re a great makeup artist.” You know she’s saying that to be nice and to find some ground where you’re comfortable – obviously sensing that you’re on edge and trying to help in any way she can. But you just can’t do this. Not tonight. Not now.

“I’m alright, I guess.” You shrug, and you can feel how forced your smile is but you persist. “It’s really nice to meet you but I really need to get going. Jake?” You turn to him, doing your best to ignore the tears that are beginning to brim in your eyes. “Have you seen Josh? I told him I wouldn’t leave without telling him and his partner goodbye.”

He shakes his head no, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that can only be described as defensive and uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I haven’t. I’ll keep an eye out for him, though.”

“That’s alright. I’ll just shoot him a text later. Congrats on a successful night,” you say, nodding to the tech, Danny, and then to Jake before turning to Lindsey, “and it was really nice to meet you. I’m sorry I’ve gotta run.”

“That’s okay. I hope you have a good night.” She offers, eyes still watching you in concern. Somehow, her kindness makes this whole thing worse.

You turn away from the group and, as if in a dream, you make your way to the exit of the bar.

With no Josh in sight, you pull your phone from your pocket and call an Uber to take you back to the hotel where you’ll pack up your bags for the last time. This time tomorrow, you’ll be in your own bed away from all the madness. You wish the thought gave you more comfort.

//////

Three weeks pass agonizingly slowly. After being on tour for so long, the sudden change in tempo to your normally fast paced life leaves you floating through your days as if in a dream. Where once it seemed as though you barely had time to even sit down and think, now you have too much time to do exactly that. There’s only so many good shows that you missed and there’s only so many useless outings to be had before you find yourself going stir crazy. Distraction-less, your thoughts swirl hopelessly around Jake and your bitter, self-hating disappointment.

You think fondly about the first time you met. You think of your flirting and of the soft moments the two of you shared before it all went to hell. You even think of that damn bar bathroom; you think of the passion and the hope that had bloomed in you that night, and of the crushing disappointment and hurt that soon followed. And inevitably, your thoughts always seem to circle back to that last night, when you finally mustered up the courage to say something, only for the universe to seemingly throw it back in your face with a laugh and a middle finger. And the very worst part of it all had been Lindsey’s obvious kindness and concern towards you, despite having only just met. You hate that you can understand why he chose her.

Those thoughts feel particularly loud tonight as you stare down at an invitation to a group dinner from Josh. He, along with Sam and Danny, had texted you here and there – little things about what was going on in their lives since you last had seen them. But this was the first time that you had been asked to go out with them.

You’re torn. Torn between the desire to see all of your friends again and wanting to avoid having to see Jake (and even worse, Lindsey) if you didn’t absolutely have to. But, deciding to put your big girl pants on, you accepted, texting Josh a simple Sure :)

He responded almost immediately, eagerly letting you know how excited he was to see you.

And here you find yourself, nervously adjusting your top for the millionth time that night as you drive to the bar that Josh had told you about. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but to think about Jake as you had gotten dressed. You feel silly for still allowing yourself to be so hung up on him. You shake your head at yourself, almost in the hopes that the thoughts will slip from your mind at the action. Despite everything, you’re determined to have a good time tonight.

You’ve never been to this bar before, nestled away just a few blocks from Broadway on the East side of Nashville. It’s a nice place, but not so fancy that it comes across as too uptight or uncomfortable. Walking through the doors, you see that there’s a bar off to the right, with a few larger tables scattered across the floor to your left, and some pool tables and a dart board tucked away in the back. It seems laid back and comfortable – just the kind of place the boys like to frequent. Sam and Danny are already at a table, excitedly beckoning you over.

“Sunflower!” Danny calls, standing from his seat and opening his arms wide.

You jog over to him, grinning from ear to ear as you allow him to engulf you in a hug.

“I missed you.” He tells you sweetly, squeezing you a little tighter.

“I missed you too, Dan. Especially your hugs.”

“Quit hogging her!” Sam interrupts, gripping your wrists in his long fingers and pulling you from Danny and into himself.

Giggling, you hug him too.

“And I missed you.” You pull away from him, casting your eyes between the two of them. “I missed all of you guys. Speaking of… where’s tweedle dee and tweedle dum?”

The three of you sit, Danny pulling your chair out for you like the gentleman that he is.

“Josh is running late, as usual.” Sam supplies with an eye roll, “And I think Jake and Lindsey should be here soon. He said they were on their way a while ago.”

It feels like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water on you but you keep your expression smooth. Of course he would be bringing Lindsey tonight… Why wouldn’t he?

Unfortunately for you, they do arrive soon, and seeing Jake again feels like a punch in the gut. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans coupled with a white button up, and his signature necklace glitters against his chest. He looks stunning, and Lindsey’s beauty only stands out more in the beautiful sundress that she has on.

“There you two are!” Sammy says loudly, and Jake inclines his head.

“Ladies,” he nods at you and Sam, “and Danny, good to see you.”

Sam scowls as Jake and Danny share a laugh.

“Y/n! It’s good to see you again.” Lindsey says with a smile, taking a seat in the chair directly to your right. You push back the annoyance, reminding yourself that it’s not her fault that Jake doesn’t feel the same towards you.

The table descends into easy conversation, though you find yourself having a difficult time keeping up. You smile and nod at what you hope is the correct times, but your thoughts are a thousand miles away. All you can think about is that night in that damn bar bathroom, and how good it had felt in the moment. You think about that night more often than you’d ever care to admit, but the memory is soured anyway by what followed. You can still see Jake’s face, passive and expressionless, as he shattered your heart in two.

And of course, you think of the last show, when you’d allowed Josh to convince you that Jake felt the same. God, you’ll never forget seeing him lean over to kiss Lindsey’s cheek, her arm wrapped around his waist just like yours had been that night at the bar. You wish, suddenly, that you’d ordered alcohol instead of water.

“Right, Sunflower?”

The question snaps you from your racing thoughts and you look up to see everyone at the table looking at you. Your cheeks flush as you wrack your brains to try and recall what they’d been talking about but you come up empty. You open your mouth to spew some bullshit excuse when you hear the door to the restaurant bust open obnoxiously.

“The party has arrived!” Josh bellows, drawing the attention of just about everyone in the building, and – thankfully, the attention of everyone at your table. You slink down further in your seat, suddenly feeling like you’ve run a marathon.

Josh and his partner take a seat to your left, and their presence instantly soothes you in a way you can hardly explain.

“What the hell are you two always doing that makes you so late to everything?” Sam asks him, taking a sip of his drink and quirking his brow.

“You don’t want to know, brother mine.” Josh says with a lewd grin, causing the entire table to erupt in groans of disgust. You laugh softly and Josh’s partner gives you a wink.

Conversations pick up again amongst everyone, though you mostly only speak to Josh’s partner, the two of you scooting backwards in your chairs to speak around Josh – who’s leaning forward as he tells an animated story about something or other, hands flapping about wildly.

“Does he ever run out of things to say?” You stage whisper at his partner, who guffaws loudly and assures you that no, Josh does not, in fact, ever run out of things to say.

“You should see him when we go to the store!” He tells you, eyes twinkling with affection, “He talks to just about everyone in the fucking Publix. I have to drag him out – for my sake and for theirs.”

“What does he even talk to them about?” You ask through a laugh.

“I don’t know. He talks a lot but says very little, most of the time.”

At that, Josh leans back into his chair and turns his head back and forth between the two of you, eyes narrowed and a mocking frown on his face.

“Are you two talking about me?”

“Never!” You tell him seriously, giving your best poker face.

“Absolutely not. I love you just the way you are, babe.” His partner assures him, and you know that he’s not kidding in the slightest. They’re annoyingly perfect for each other.

Josh looks on in suspicion as you and his partner lock eyes, both fighting to hold back your laughter and Josh raises an eyebrow at the two of you. You just shrug your shoulders and smile, while his partner smiles into his drink – the both of you completely unable to meet Josh’s eyes for fear of breaking out into giggles.

“Sure. Whatever, Very convincing.” Josh mutters, shaking his head and fighting a smile of his own. “Anyways, tell us what you’ve been up to, Sunflower.”

You feel warmth overtake your cheeks as everyone’s eyes turn to you and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole as Jake’s gaze finally lands on you as well. For the life of you, you can’t get a read on him – a fact that hurts you beyond measure.

“Oh, not much, to be completely honest.” You tell them, shrugging your shoulders. “Not much to do around here when I’m not dealing with you guys’ craziness.”

“Nothing?” Danny asks in disbelief, “No family or friends you’ve been hanging out with?”

“You guys are the only friends I have here in Nash.” You glance down at your lap. “Just been me, myself, and I.”

Josh, in typical Josh fashion, changes the subject upon noticing your discomfort – and you promptly excuse yourself to the ladies’ room. Rising from your seat, you scamper quickly away from the table.

You splash cold water on your face and smooth down a few fly-away hairs. Gazing in the mirror, you smile at yourself. Even you can see that it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

You jump as the door to the bathroom opens, eyes widening as you see Lindsey entering. You fight back a frown. She’s the last person you want to see.

“Hey.” She says simply, coming to stand beside you in front of the mirror,

“Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You tell her, and wince at the harshness of your tone. “Thank you for asking though.” You add, softer this time.

“You and I both know that’s not true.” She says kindly, giving you a soft smile in the mirror. “I know we don’t really know each other, but… I’m here, if there’s something you want to talk about. I’m good at listening.”

You sigh, heart warming just a little at her obvious kindness and sincerity. You don’t know whether it’s better or worse that she’s a good person – it would be easier to dislike her if she wasn’t. But it’s also easier to accept Jake choosing her over you knowing that she’s a genuine person. Deciding to go out on a limb, you choose your next words carefully – keeping them truthful, but vague.

“Just guy trouble. It’s stupid, really. I don’t know why I’m letting it affect me like this.”

“A breakup?”

“Not necessarily…” You scratch the back of your neck, nerves beginning to show themselves again. “We, um- we slept together. Once. And I really liked him. But he said it was a mistake and we haven’t really spoken since.”

“Did you,” she speaks slowly – delicately, even. “Did you know him well? Before?”

“Yeah. He was always so sweet. Flirty, but not obnoxiously so. I really thought something was there. Something… real.”

“Mmm.” She hummed, looking in the mirror to smooth her own hair down. “And you haven’t spoken to him since?”

“Not in a way that matters. Not about what happened.”

“Maybe you should try.” She says, tilting her head at you. “You never know unless you try.”

You duck your head, fighting the tears that begin to burn behind your eyes.

“He’s with someone else now. And they seem to be happy. I don’t want to cause trouble where it’s not necessary. I just need to…” you trail off for a moment, staring at your reflection hopelessly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“You love him, then?”

Her question makes you freeze for a moment. Do you love him? You hadn’t really wanted to put a direct name to how you feel about Jake. But standing here, crying over him to the girl he chose over you, you figure you’ve hit rock bottom already anyway.

“Yeah, I do.” Your admission comes out quiet – broken in such a way that you almost don’t even recognize it.

“I’m sorry.” She says, her gaze dropping down onto the counter, staring at the little puddles of water. “I wish I could say something to help, but I know there’s nothing to say. It just fucking sucks, feeling like that.”

You nod, sniffling a little and wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“And you know what the worst part of it all is?”

She just shakes her head, allowing you to continue.

“The girl he’s with now… I get it. I totally get why he chose her.” You let out a watery laugh and you see Lindsey’s eyes fill with her own tears as she watches you fall apart. “I would have chosen her, too.”

You blink and suddenly you’re being hugged. You’re stunned for just a moment before you hesitantly wrap your arms around her loosely.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” She says, pulling away from you and placing her hands on your shoulders, willing you to meet her gaze. “You’ll find the one. I know you will.”

“Thank you.” You sniffle again and laugh quietly, “God, this is so embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” She says kindly, dropping her hands and smiling. “Sometimes you just need another girl to listen. I love the guys – and they’re more sensitive and understanding than most, but they don’t get stuff like this like we do.”

You nod at her, taking a deep breath to gather yourself.

“Ready to go back out?”

“Yeah.” You say, and you follow behind her as the two of you make your way back out to the table.

The rest of the night passes by in a blur. After your return from the bathroom, you don’t allow your thoughts to prevent you from enjoying time with your friends. They really are all you have and you’ve missed them terribly. You catch eyes with Lindsey every now and again, and she always gives you an encouraging smile as she watches you engage, and little sparks of affection and thankfulness for her warm your chest. It really isn’t her fault.

After you’ve all eaten, and the alcohol begins to take more affect, Sam suddenly rises from his seat and slams his palms against the table (effectively causing all the plates to rattle obnoxiously)

“Daniel!” He says, pointing a finger at poor Danny who looks back at him with wide eyes. “I challenge you to a game of pool right this instant. I’m tired of sitting.”

Danny rolls his eyes playfully and stands, rubbing his palms on his jeans.

“Don’t start something you know you can’t win.” Danny tells him with a grin.

“40 bucks says I beat you.”

The rest of you watch on in amusement as the two bicker all the way over to the pool tables.

“Jake?” Josh asks, turning to his twin, “Wanna play?”

“Fuck ya.” Jake responds, also rising from his place. “Ready to beat your ass.”

“In your dreams, Jakey.”

“Don’t call me that.” Jake says petulantly, brushing past Josh with a deliberate nudge against his shoulder.

You, Josh’s partner, and Lindsey follow the boys over to the tables, laughing at their antics. Everyone is sporting a buzz now and you’re well on your way to getting your own little buzz. You figure you deserve it.

You watch on in amusement as the boys allow themselves to let loose – you love watching them like this. They’re like little kids, giggling and messing with each other as they play pool.

“I haven’t seen them all together like this.” Lindsey tells you from her seat next to you. “They’re like…”

“Children?” You supply, giggling softly. “They’re always like this. Even during a tour.”

The both of you laugh loudly as Josh sinks a ball, exclaiming loudly in triumph before Jake interrupts his celebration to let him know that he hit one of Jake’s into the pocket and not his own. Josh lets out a particularly petulant “Fuck!” and Jake tosses his head back and laughs.

You watch him, completely unable to pull your eyes away from him. He looks… transcendent like that, joy and laughter making his eyes crinkle at the corners in the way that always makes your heart melt. A pang shoots through your chest as memories of when he used to laugh with you like that enter your thoughts unbidden. You shake your head at yourself, tearing your gaze away from him to look at Lindsey – only to find her already looking at you.

You can’t quite read her expression – but there’s puzzlement in her eyes. You look away, unwilling to answer (or even acknowledge) her silent question.

Before long, the boys are far too drunk to be allowed out in public any longer, and Josh’s partner begins making the rounds to let them know that it’s time to go. He’s met with grumblings of disappointment but the boys don’t protest as you all begin to make your way outside.

“Well, Sunflower,” Danny says, smiling widely with flushed cheeks as he looks at you, “I guess we won’t see you again until tour starts again.” He extends his strong arms, waiting to give you a goodbye hug. You fall into him, letting your eyes fall closed as he squeezes you.

“You give the best hugs, Danny.”

“So you keep telling me.” He grins, pulling away as Josh’s partner ducks in to hug you as well.

“Me next!” Sam exclaims loudly, yanking you from his grip to pull you into his lanky arms.

“Bye, Sammy.” You giggle. “Till next time.”

You pull away to see Josh waiting patiently for his turn.

“See you soon, Sunflower.” He says, pulling you flush against him. Just as you go to pull away, he pulls you in tighter and leans in close.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. You blink away the tears that want to fall at his words.

Lastly, Jake stands, hands awkwardly in his pockets as he waits. You’re not sure what to do until he opens his arms for you. Hesitantly, you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in his scent as it envelopes you.

He leans in close – so close that his lips are almost touching your ear.

“See you later, Sunflower.”

“Bye, Jake.” You say quietly.

He squeezes you tighter, letting the embrace last for just a moment too long.

Pulling away, you catch Lindsey’s eyes, and for the first time tonight, she doesn’t return the smile that you give her.

You trudge your way back to your car, suddenly wishing that you hadn’t gone tonight. And even more, you wish – desperately, that you didn’t have to see him again at all.

Climbing into your car, you allow yourself to put on your sad song playlist and wallow in your misery the entire way home, before collapsing heavily into your bed – the call of sleep pulling you under.

///////

Jake K 1:02 AM

I think we should talk

The text is the very last thing you want to wake up to – especially with the pounding in your head and the feeling of nausea that threatens to overtake you. You hadn’t had much to drink the night before but you have a feeling that it’s not the alcohol making you feel this way. You stare at it for a long while, thoughts racing through your fuzzy brain as you try and figure out how to respond.

You knew you shouldn’t have been honest with Lindsey – no matter how kind she is. Of course she would have caught on after seeing your inability to fix your face when you watch Jake and of course she would tell him what had happened in the bathroom.

And now he’s probably upset with you. Maybe he’s angry that you’ve kept your feelings from him and fucked him in a bar bathroom like it didn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s going to fire you. Maybe Lindsey wants him to fire you. Your mind races with every worst possible scenario as you shakily type out your response.

You 10:17 AM

Is everything okay?

The speed with which he answers tells you everything that you need to know.

Jake K 10:19 AM

Can you call?

You 10:19 AM

Yes. Whenever you get a chance.

Not a second later, his name lights up across your screen with an incoming call. Heart pounding, you can only stare at it. You haven’t had time to think. To plan out how you’re supposed to just act like everything is okay. With a heavy sigh, you accept that it’s too late for that and you swipe to accept the call.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Y/n.”

Your actual name… hardly a good sign but you will the nerves and fear from your voice the best you can.

“Is everything okay?”

A heavy, pregnant pause. Then finally,

“Lindsey and I talked last night. She um. She knows. About- About us.”

You close your eyes tight, heart hammering.

“Fuck.” The word escapes you with a sigh, tears already beginning to burn in the back of your throat. “I swear I didn’t tell her, Jake. I swear it. I just-”

“I know.” He interrupts. “She explained. I um.”

You can hear him swallow and you can picture what he must look like on the other end – eyebrows pinched, maybe playing with the chain of his necklace like he does when he’s nervous or stressed. You shake your head as if it’ll clear the image from your mind.

“Jake, I’m sorry.”

He sighs – heavy and defeated.

“Don’t apologize. I- I’m sorry that I hurt you like that. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t.”

Silence again, both of you just listening to the others breathing.

“I think it might be best if- if maybe you all find someone else for makeup.”

“No.” He starts, the word louder than any of the others that he’s spoken before. “You can't just walk away. You can't leave. ”

“But I think it would be best if I did.”

This time, you can practically hear him trying to come up with something to say in the silence. But you know there isn’t really much else to say.

“You’re our friend.” He finally says, voice just barely above a whisper.

That makes you pause as you think of the others – of Josh and his soft, reassuring smiles. Of his partner and the inside jokes the two of you share. Of Sammy and his ridiculous jokes and of Danny’s hugs. You think of all the other tech people – the ones who had taken you in and treated you like family from the very start. All the people that you’re willingly walking away from... and most of them will never even know why.

It kills you. The ache in your chest is a real, breathing thing as the reality of it all sets in.

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/n, don’t-”

You end the call.

End of Part I

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

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#dee's writing #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka angst #jake kiszka

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lunardragon00 · 5 months

Text

Eternal Sunshine (Jongho x Reader)

Eternal Sunshine Masterlist

Idol!Jongho x Idol!reader

I'll be the first to say, "I'm sorry", Now you got me feelin' sorry I showed you all my demons, all my lies Yet you played me like Atari

The hum of chatter filled the air as stylists buzzed around the makeup room, prepping idols for their next appearance. Y/N sat before the mirror, her reflection illuminated by the soft glow of vanity lights. She wore a serene expression, masking the whirlwind of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Her makeup artist flitted around her, expertly applying foundation and blending eyeshadow with practiced precision. Y/N's mind, however, wandered to a different place altogether. Memories of Jongho, her former flame, danced at the edges of her consciousness, threatening to consume her thoughts.

She closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Today was supposed to be about her new album, her latest achievement in a career that demanded everything she had to give. But even amidst the excitement and anticipation, he lingered like an unwelcome guest.

"You doing okay, Y/N?" the makeup artist asked, breaking through her reverie.

Y/N forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, just... lost in thought, I guess."

The makeup artist gave her a sympathetic look before returning to her work. But Y/N couldn't shake the memories that clung to her like cobwebs in the corners of her mind. His absence, his constant excuses, the weight of his silence – they all hung heavy on her heart.

As she sat in the makeup chair, preparing to face the world once again, Y/N couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever truly be able to move on from him. But for now, she pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. Today was about her music, her passion, and nothing – not even he – could take that away from her.

A staff member poked their head into the bustling makeup room, scanning the busy scene before their eyes landed on Y/N. "Y/N, they're ready for you on set," they announced, their voice cutting through the ambient noise.

Y/N nodded, offering a grateful smile as she stood up from the makeup chair. She smoothed down the fabric of her outfit, adjusting the mic pack clipped to her waist. With each step towards the door, her heart pounded a little harder, anticipation mingling with apprehension.

As she made her way to the set, Y/N mentally rehearsed her responses, trying to anticipate the questions that would inevitably come her way. She focused on the positive aspects of her album, the hours of hard work poured into each track, the emotions woven into every lyric.

But amidst the professional facade she wore like armor, the memories of him lingered like ghosts in the corners of her mind. She pushed them aside, burying them beneath layers of determination and resolve. Today was about her music, her artistry, and she refused to let anything – or anyone – detract from that.

With a deep breath, Y/N stepped onto the set, plastering a bright smile on her face as the cameras began to roll. It was showtime, and she was ready to shine.

The set was a flurry of activity, with cameras rolling and lights shining bright. Y/N took her place in the center of it all, the spotlight now firmly on her as she prepared to face the barrage of questions that awaited.

The interviewer, a seasoned professional with a warm smile, greeted her with a handshake before taking their seat opposite her. "Y/N, it's great to have you here today. Your new album has been generating a lot of buzz – can you tell us about the message behind it?"

Y/N's smile widened as she launched into her prepared response, her words flowing effortlessly as she spoke of passion, creativity, and the journey that had led her to this moment.

"Well, here’s the easiest way I can explain it. The album starts off as a question, it’s asking how do you know if this person I’m with is the one? How do I know if this person is going to be IT for me when I’ve been in relationships in the past that have given me that hope? "As Y/N spoke, her voice resonated with sincerity, her words painting a vivid picture of the emotional landscape that had inspired her music.

The interviewer nodded, captivated by her explanation. "That's incredibly relatable," they remarked, leaning forward slightly. "It sounds like you're exploring some deeply personal themes in this album. Can you tell us about your creative process and how you approached writing these songs?"

Y/N's smile softened, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her features. "Sure," she began, her voice taking on a more introspective tone. "For me, writing music is a form of catharsis. It's a way for me to process my emotions and make sense of the world around me. With this album, I wanted to delve into the complexities of love and relationships – the highs, the lows, and everything in between."

She paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing. "Each song is like a piece of my heart, laid bare for the world to see. And while it's scary to be so vulnerable, it's also incredibly liberating. I hope that listeners can find solace in these songs, knowing that they're not alone in their own struggles and triumphs."

The interviewer nodded again, impressed by Y/N's insight and authenticity. "It sounds like this album is a deeply personal journey for you," they remarked. "Is there a particular song that holds special significance for you? And if so, can you tell us why?"

Y/N's gaze softened as she thought back to the writing process, the late nights spent pouring her heart out into lyrics, the moments of clarity amidst the chaos. "There's a song called 'Echoes' that holds a special place in my heart," she revealed. "It's about the lingering echoes of a past love, the memories that haunt you long after they're gone. For me, it's a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there's still beauty to be found."

Y/N sat hunched over her notebook, pen in hand, the blank page staring back at her mockingly. She sighed, frustration bubbling up inside her as she struggled to find the right words. Writing had always been her refuge, her safe haven in a world filled with chaos and uncertainty. But today, the words eluded her, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall, the hands ticking away the seconds with merciless precision. Jongho was due to arrive any minute now, and she still hadn't finished the song they were supposed to record together. The pressure weighed heavy on her shoulders, a constant reminder of the expectations placed upon her as an idol and a songwriter.

Just then, the door swung open, and Jongho stepped into the studio, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Hey, Y/N," he greeted, his voice warm and familiar.

Y/N forced a smile, pushing aside her doubts and insecurities as she greeted him in return. "Hey, sorry, I'm still working on the lyrics. I just can't seem to get them right."

Jongho's smile widened, and he crossed the room to stand beside her, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm. "Don't worry about it," he reassured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We'll figure it out together, like we always do."

Y/N's heart swelled with gratitude as she looked up at him, her doubts melting away in the warmth of his gaze. Jongho had always been her rock, her constant source of support and inspiration. And in that moment, she knew that together, they could conquer anything.

With renewed determination, Y/N returned to her notebook, the words flowing from her pen with newfound ease. And as she and Jongho poured their hearts and souls into the music, the echoes of their love reverberated through the studio, filling the air with hope and promise.

Y/N couldn't help but smile as she and Jongho exchanged playful banter, their easy rapport a testament to the years they'd spent together as friends and lovers. Despite the pressure of the recording session, there was an undeniable sense of joy in the air, a shared excitement that buoyed their spirits and fueled their creativity.

As they worked through the song, Jongho's voice soared, filling the studio with its raw power and emotion. Y/N couldn't help but be in awe of him, his talent shining bright like a beacon in the darkness. And as the final notes faded away, leaving nothing but silence in their wake, Y/N felt a sense of euphoria wash over her. They had done it – they had created something beautiful together, something that would stand the test of time.

Jongho grinned at her, his eyes sparkling with pride. "That was amazing," he exclaimed, pulling her into a tight hug. "I couldn't have done it without you." Y/N hugged him back, feeling a surge of gratitude and affection well up inside her.

As Y/N basked in the warmth of Jongho's embrace, she couldn't help but feel a rush of affection swell within her. In that moment, surrounded by the glow of their shared success, she felt more alive than ever before. She pulled back slightly, gazing into Jongho's eyes with a soft smile playing on her lips. "We make a pretty good team, don't we?" she remarked, her voice filled with admiration.

Jongho nodded, his grin widening as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "The best," he replied, his tone laced with sincerity. "I'm so lucky to have you by my side, Y/N."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest at the depth of his affection. She reached up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against his skin as she leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Their kiss was sweet and tender, a silent promise of love and devotion that transcended words. In that moment, surrounded by the music and the laughter and the undeniable chemistry that crackled between them, Y/N knew with absolute certainty that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

As they pulled away, their foreheads resting against each other, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over her. "Okay, let's go before you get glued to studio board. I'm starving and you need a break." Y/N laughed as Jongho pulled her out of the studio, his infectious energy lifting her spirits even higher. She let herself be swept along by his enthusiasm, her heart light with joy as they made their way down the hallway.

As they emerged into the bright lights of the corridor, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over her. Despite the pressures of their busy schedules and the demands of the industry, moments like these – simple, spontaneous, and filled with laughter – were what made it all worthwhile.

She squeezed Jongho's hand tightly, her fingers intertwining with his as they walked side by side. "You're right," she agreed, her voice tinged with amusement. "I could use a break, and food sounds amazing right about now."

Jongho grinned at her, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he led her towards the nearest exit. "I know just the place," he declared, his excitement palpable. "There's this little café down the street that serves the best kimchi stew. Trust me, you're gonna love it."

Y/N laughed, her heart swelling with affection for the man beside her. Despite the chaos of their lives and the challenges they faced, moments like these – stolen away from the spotlight, just the two of them – were what mattered most.

As they stepped out into the bustling streets of Seoul, hand in hand and hearts full of happiness, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment settle over her. In that moment, surrounded by the sights and sounds of the city she loved and the man she adored, she knew that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

"Sounds like a wonderful message. Now, what exactly inspired you to let this message out? It seems like this is quite a personal story you're sharing with fans." Y/N took a moment to collect her thoughts, the memories of her time with Jongho still lingering in the back of her mind. She knew that she had to tread carefully, choosing her words with precision as she navigated the delicate balance between truth and discretion.

"I went through something within the past year where I got to live through those things," she began, her words measured and deliberate. "I put so much into the relationship, poured my heart and soul into it, but towards the end, I just kind of realized that it wasn't equal."

The soft glow of her laptop illuminated the dimly lit room as Y/N sat hunched over the keyboard, her fingers flying across the keys in a flurry of words and emotions. It was late, far later than she should have been awake, but she couldn't sleep, not with the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her like a leaden blanket.

She typed furiously, pouring her heart out into the digital void, her words a desperate plea for connection in a world that seemed determined to keep her at arm's length. Jongho had been distant lately, his messages growing fewer and farther between, leaving Y/N feeling adrift and alone in a sea of silence.

But still, she persisted, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he would respond, that he would reach out and pull her back from the edge of despair. She waited with bated breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she hit send, the message disappearing into the ether with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine.

Minutes turned into hours, but still, there was no response, no reassurance that she wasn't alone in this vast and lonely world. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she stared at the empty screen, the silence echoing louder than any words could ever convey. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that their relationship was slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

Her fingers trembled as she typed out another message, her words a desperate plea for understanding in a sea of uncertainty. "Are you okay?" she wrote, the letters appearing on the screen like a lifeline thrown into the abyss.

But as the minutes ticked by and still, there was no response, Y/N's anxiety only grew, gnawing at her insides like a ravenous beast. She knew she shouldn't be so dependent on Jongho's validation, that her worth didn't depend on his attention, but try as she might, she couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that threatened to consume her whole.

She scrolled through their previous conversations, searching for clues, for any sign that she hadn't imagined the connection they once shared. But all she found were fragments of a love that seemed to be slipping away, lost amidst the silence and the shadows.

And then, just when she had all but given up hope, a notification flashed across the screen, a single word illuminated in the darkness: "Sorry."

Y/N's heart sank as she read the message, the weight of its meaning crashing down on her like a ton of bricks. "Sorry for what?" she wanted to scream, her frustration boiling over into a torrent of tears and anger. But instead, she swallowed her pride, bottling up her emotions as she pushed aside her hurt and disappointment.

She knew that confronting Jongho wouldn't change anything, that their relationship was already hanging by a thread, but still, she couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal at his half-hearted apology. It wasn't enough, not by a long shot, and as she stared at the empty screen, the tears streaming down her cheeks, Y/N couldn't help but wonder if their love was worth fighting for.

There was a pause as Y/N gathered her thoughts, the emotions swirling within her threatening to spill over. But she held herself together, drawing strength from the knowledge that she was not alone in her struggles.

"It's never easy to admit when things aren't working out," she continued, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside her. "But I think it's important to be honest with ourselves and with others, even if it's painful. And for me, that's what this album is all about – finding the courage to speak our truth, no matter the cost."

The interviewer nodded sympathetically, their expression filled with understanding. "It takes a lot of courage to be so open and vulnerable," they remarked, their tone gentle. "But I have no doubt that your fans will appreciate your honesty and authenticity."

Y/N smiled gratefully, a sense of relief washing over her as she shared her story with the world. Despite the pain of her past, she knew that by speaking her truth, she was taking the first step towards healing – not just for herself, but for others who may be going through similar struggles.

"Tell me a little bit more. In this relationship, where do you think things went wrong? Because at first, you said that you felt like this person could be the one. What changed?" Y/N took a moment to collect her thoughts, her mind drifting back to the moments she had shared with Jongho, both the highs and the lows. It was a painful journey to revisit, but she knew that in order to truly heal, she had to confront the truth head-on.

"I think...," she began slowly, her voice tinged with sadness, "I think things started to unravel when we lost sight of each other. We were both so caught up in our own worlds, our own careers, that we forgot to make time for each other. And as the distance between us grew, so too did the cracks in our relationship."

She paused, the weight of her words settling heavily upon her shoulders. "At first, I thought he could be the one," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "We had this undeniable connection, this spark that I thought would last forever. But as time went on, I realized that love alone isn't enough to sustain a relationship. It takes effort, communication, and a willingness to put each other first."

Tension hung heavy in the air as Y/N and Jongho stood facing each other, their voices raised in a heated argument that seemed to have no end in sight. It had started off as a simple disagreement, a difference of opinion about whether or not to go public with their relationship, but it had quickly escalated into something much more volatile.

"I just don't understand why you're so opposed to going public," Y/N exclaimed, frustration evident in every word. "We've been together for 2 years now, Jongho. It's not like it's some big secret."

Jongho's jaw clenched as he met her gaze, his own frustration boiling over into anger. "It's not that simple, Y/N," he shot back, his tone sharp with irritation. "You know how the industry works. We have to maintain a certain image, and going public with our relationship could jeopardize that."

Y/N's temper flared at his words, a surge of indignation coursing through her veins. "So what? We're just supposed to hide our relationship forever? Pretend like we're not together just to appease some corporate executives?" she retorted, her voice rising with each word.

Jongho's expression hardened, his eyes flashing with resentment. "I'm just trying to protect us, Y/N," he insisted, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I can't afford to risk my career for some fleeting romance."

The words struck Y/N like a slap in the face, the sting of his betrayal cutting deep into her heart. "Fleeting romance?" she repeated, her voice trembling with hurt and anger. "Is that what you think this is, Jongho? Some meaningless fling?" Jongho's gaze wavered, guilt flickering behind his eyes as he realized the depth of Y/N's pain. But instead of backing down, he dug in his heels, his pride and fear driving him to lash out in defense.

"I didn't mean it like that," he insisted, his voice softer now, but no less defensive. "But you have to understand, Y/N, this industry is cutthroat. We're under constant scrutiny, and one wrong move could ruin everything we've worked for."

Y/N shook her head, her fists clenched at her sides as she struggled to contain the storm raging within her. "I understand that, Jongho," she said, her voice strained with emotion. "But I refuse to sacrifice our happiness for the sake of some image. We deserve better than that."

As Y/N's words hung heavy in the air, Jongho's expression darkened, his frustration reaching a boiling point. "I'm tired of this, Y/N," he snapped, his voice sharp with anger. "Why do you keep bringing this up? Can't you see that it's pointless?"

Y/N recoiled at his words, the sting of his dismissiveness cutting deep into her heart. "Pointless?" she repeated, her voice trembling with hurt and disbelief. "Our relationship is not pointless, Jongho. It's real, it's meaningful, and it deserves to be acknowledged."

But Jongho's resolve remained unyielding, his pride and fear driving him to push her away. "I can't do this right now," he declared, his tone final. "I won't let you jeopardize everything I've worked for just because you can't accept reality."

And with that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the apartment, leaving Y/N alone in the suffocating silence of their shattered dreams.

A pang of regret washed over her as she spoke, a sense of longing for what could have been if only they had fought harder for their love. But she knew that dwelling on the past would only hold her back from embracing the future, from finding the happiness and fulfillment she deserved.

"In the end," she concluded, her voice steady despite the ache in her heart, "I think we just... lost ourselves along the way. And as much as it hurts to admit it, sometimes love isn't enough to save a relationship that's already crumbling beneath the weight of its own flaws."

The interviewer nodded sympathetically, their expression filled with empathy for Y/N's pain. "It sounds like you've gained a lot of insight from this experience," they remarked, their tone gentle. "And I have no doubt that your honesty and vulnerability will resonate deeply with your fans, helping them navigate their own struggles with love and relationships."

Y/N smiled gratefully, a sense of peace settling over her as she shared her truth with the world. Despite the pain of her past, she knew that by speaking her truth, she was not only healing herself but also shining a light for others who may be walking a similar path.

"So, we start off the album with the question if the person you’re with is the right one, did you end up finding the answer?" Y/N's smile softened, a sense of introspection coloring her features as she considered the interviewer's question. It was a question she had asked herself many times over the course of her journey, a question that had lingered in the depths of her heart long after the echoes of her past had faded away.

"I think...," she began slowly, her voice tinged with contemplation, "I think the answer isn't always as clear-cut as we'd like it to be. Love is messy, complicated, and sometimes, it's hard to know if you're making the right choice."

She paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing. "But I do believe that everything happens for a reason, that every heartache, every disappointment, every moment of doubt is leading us towards where we're meant to be. And while I may not have all the answers, I do know that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be right now."

The soft glow of her phone screen illuminated the dimly lit room as Y/N scrolled through the latest headlines, her heart sinking with each passing moment. And then, she saw it – a headline that sent a jolt of pain coursing through her veins, a headline that confirmed her worst fears.

"Jongho Goes Public with New Girlfriend," the headline blared, accompanied by a photo of Jongho smiling brightly as he held hands with a beautiful, unfamiliar face. It was like a punch to the gut, a cruel reminder of everything she had lost, everything she had once held dear.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at the screen, the weight of betrayal settling heavy upon her shoulders. How could he do this? How could he move on so quickly, so easily, as if their relationship had never meant anything to him?

A sense of anger surged within her, hot and fierce against her skin as she struggled to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions raging within her. She had given him everything – her heart, her soul, her unwavering support – and yet, he had cast her aside without a second thought, replacing her with someone new as if she were nothing more than a passing fancy.

But beneath the anger, beneath the hurt and the betrayal, there was something else – something softer, something sadder. It was the realization that she had never truly known Jongho at all, that the man she had loved and trusted had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination, a mirage in the desert of her dreams.

And as she wiped away the tears that stained her cheeks, Y/N knew that she had to let go – let go of the anger, let go of the hurt, let go of the love that had once bound them together. For in the end, she realized, it was not her loss but his – his loss of the love and the light that she had once brought into his life.

With a heavy heart, she turned off her phone and curled up on the couch, enveloped in the suffocating silence of her shattered dreams. The memories of their time together flooded Y/N's mind, each moment etched into her heart like a bittersweet melody. But amidst the laughter and the love, there were also moments of doubt, moments of pain, moments when she had felt like she was fighting an uphill battle all on her own.

She remembered the countless times she had reached out to Jongho, pouring her heart out in messages that went unanswered, her pleas for reassurance met with silence or half-hearted apologies that offered little comfort.

She remembered the late nights spent waiting by the phone, her heart pounding in her chest as she hoped and prayed for a sign that Jongho still cared, still wanted her in his life. But more often than not, all she got was disappointment, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that refused to go away.

And then there were the times when they were together, when Jongho's attention was divided between her and his ever-growing list of responsibilities. She had always understood the demands of his career, had always been willing to support him in any way she could, but there were moments when she had felt like she was nothing more than an afterthought, a distraction from the chaos of his life.

She remembered the arguments they had, the harsh words exchanged in moments of frustration and anger, the wounds they had inflicted upon each other that refused to heal. And through it all, she had held on, believing that their love was strong enough to withstand any storm, that their bond was unbreakable.

But now, as she looked back on their relationship with a clarity born of hindsight, she couldn't help but wonder if she had been fooling herself all along. Had Jongho ever truly cared for her, truly valued her presence in his life? Or had she been nothing more than a temporary distraction, a fleeting moment of happiness in an otherwise chaotic existence?

The questions swirled within her, each one a dagger to her already wounded heart. But amidst the pain and the uncertainty, there was also a glimmer of hope – hope that she would someday find the answers she sought, hope that she would someday find the love and the happiness she deserved.

And as she closed her eyes and let the memories wash over her, Y/N knew that no matter what the future held, she would always carry a piece of Jongho with her – a piece of him that had shaped her, changed her, and ultimately, helped her become the person she was meant to be.

A sense of serenity settled over her as she spoke, a quiet confidence born of self-discovery and personal growth. "So, to answer your question," she concluded, her voice steady and sure, "No, I haven’t found the answer yet, but I’m still searching. I’ve gotten to the point of realizing what I need in a relationship and just what doesn’t work for me. The album is more about here’s what happened in mine, and if that’s happening to you, just run."

The interviewer chuckled softly, the tension in the room easing as Y/N's laughter filled the air. "Well, it sounds like you've gained a lot of insight from your experiences," they remarked, their tone warm with admiration. "And I'm sure your fans will appreciate the honesty and authenticity of the message."

Y/N smiled gratefully, a sense of pride swelling within her at the thought of connecting with her audience in such a profound way. "Thank you," she said sincerely, her voice filled with gratitude. "It's been a journey, that's for sure. But I wouldn't change a thing. Every heartache, every disappointment, every moment of doubt has led me to where I am today – and for that, I am truly grateful."

The interviewer nodded, their expression thoughtful as they considered Y/N's words. "It's clear that you've grown a lot from your experiences," they remarked, their tone filled with respect. "And I have no doubt that your journey will continue to inspire others to embrace their own truths and pursue their own paths to happiness."

Y/N smiled, a sense of peace settling over her as she reflected on the road she had traveled and the lessons she had learned along the way. Despite the twists and turns, the ups and downs, she knew that she was exactly where she was meant to be – guided by the power of her own truth and the unwavering support of those who believed in her.

And as she looked towards the future, filled with endless possibilities and infinite potential, Y/N knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, she was ready to face them head-on, armed with nothing but her truth and the unwavering support of her fans.

The interviewer smiled warmly, a sense of satisfaction filling the room as they concluded the interview. "Thank you so much for sharing your story with us, Y/N," they said, their tone genuine. "It's been a pleasure getting to know you and hearing about your journey."

Y/N returned the smile, a sense of gratitude swelling within her at the opportunity to share her truth with the world. "Thank you for having me," she replied, her voice filled with sincerity. "It's been a privilege to be able to open up and connect with my fans in this way."

As they rose from their seats and exchanged final pleasantries, Y/N felt a sense of fulfillment wash over her, a quiet confidence born of self-discovery and personal growth. She knew that no matter what the future held, she was ready to face it head-on, armed with nothing but her truth and the unwavering support of those who believed in her.

Y/N made her way down the corridor, her mind still buzzing with the energy of the interview, she rounded a corner and nearly collided with someone coming from the opposite direction. Instinctively, she stepped back, her heart skipping a beat as she found herself face to face with Jongho.

For a moment, they stood there, locked in each other's gaze, the weight of their shared history hanging heavy in the air between them. And then, slowly, tentatively, Jongho offered her a small smile, a flicker of warmth in his eyes.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's heart hardened at the sound of his voice, a surge of anger and resentment coursing through her veins. Without a word, she turned on her heel and continued down the hallway, refusing to waste another moment of her time on him.

Jongho's smile faltered as he watched her go, a pang of regret gnawing at his chest. He had hoped for a chance to make things right, to apologize for the pain he had caused her, but now, it seemed that door had closed for good.

As Y/N disappeared around the corner, Jongho was left standing alone in the hallway, his heart heavy with the weight of his mistakes. And as he watched her go, he knew that he had lost her – not just as a lover, but as a friend, a confidante, a part of his life he would never get back.

And as he turned and walked away, the echoes of their past lingering in the air, Jongho knew that he would carry the regret of losing her with him for the rest of his days – a reminder of the love he had let slip through his fingers, and the price he had paid for his pride.

Won't break, can't shake this fate, rewrite Deep breaths, tight chest, Life, death, rewind

next story coming soon......

Thank you guys for enjoying the series, it means a lot to see so many people like the posts. If you want to join the taglist, please let me know.

Taglist: @scarfac3 @bts-army380 @ssrnghwa @philijack @laurenwidjaja

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radioisntdead · 6 months

Text

Ace's broadcast collection

A collection of everything I've written to date!

I'll be updating this as I write more!

🩷 = Romantic

💛 = Platonic

🌹 = found family

🪤 = angst

✨ = mildly concerning

📻 = Songfic

🎞️ = features my ocs

DOWN WITH VALENTINO = 🔪

Alastor

Alastor biting headcanons 🩷✨

Alastor and reader biting game 🩷

Alastor x reader with a dog headcanons 🩷

The mother in law 🩷

You know where to find me, I know where to look 🩷💛

The radio man's wife 🩷

The radio demon's wife 🩷

Parental Alastor and feral child 💛🌹

Feral child 2.0 💛

Crybaby 🩷📻

Maybe one day I could learn to love you. 📻🪤

4 am Alastor headcanons 🩷

Too sweet 🩷🪤📻 Part two: Bittersweet 🩷📻

Adore📻🩷🪤

Impromptu naptime 🩷

Alastor and sleepy reader

Papa Alastor doesn't like Grandma Susan 💛🌹

MOB ALASTOR [Charmed] 📻🩷

Dad headcanons 💛🌹

Hell's greatest pirate

Susan [PLATONIC] 💛🌹

Susan and Child/nibling headcanons

Grandmama Susan

The mother in law

Susan's grandkid

Susan's reactions to you getting injured and dying 🪤

Bitter and sweet

Papa Alastor doesn't like Grandma Susan

Rosie

Summoning Rosie 🩷

Being a literal snack for Rosie🩷✨

Small and angry🩷

Summoning Auntie Rosie 💛

Rosie's hat gremlin 💛

Hat gremlin 💛

hat gremlin Rosie's hat gremlin design done by Oldie 🧵🧶💛

It'll pass💛

The Eldritch Horror that lives in the hotel

[Aka the reader killed Valentino au] [Series] [Found family] 🌹

Playlist

The forgotten one 🔪

Side stories

Ways to piss off an Italian

Velvette

Moral of the story 🪤🩷📻

Shot through the heart 📻🩷

Lay all your love on me 📻🩷 [Pt 2 to above]

Social media princess 🩷✨

Vox

Father daughter headcanons 💛

Inevitable 🪤🩷

Dad headcanons 💛

Flat faced prince🩷✨

Angel dust

Favorite babysitter 💛🔪

Friendship headcanons 💛🪤

Pinned moth display 🩷🔪✨

Charlie Morningstar

Flowey but less murdery 💛

Hazbin hotel residents

The fallen saint 💛📻

Frankenstein reader 💛

Last one standing 💛📻

Deranged 4 am headcanons

Last one in the hotel [200 milestone special!]

Baby's breath 📻

I know a guy!🌹

Showtime📻🌹

Extras:

Her name was Mimzy 🩷🪤📻

If I knew then what I know now 💛🌹📻

My favorite hazbin characters with a dog

Hat Gremlin in different formats

Hazbin characters + different versions of reader as things people I know have said

Alastor and nibling reader who accidentally seduced the Vee's ✨🔪

Roach reader request that genuinely gut punched me✨

Hazbin hotel characters + readers as things the people I know and I have said 2

Is it cold outside? 🎞️

Clown vee reader [Clown week]

Everyone likes a clown [Clown week]🪤📻

Hazbin hotel with Clown reader [clown week]

Clown themed exorcist headcanons

Security guard reader

Sick reader headcanons

Hazbin characters and readers as things people I know have said 3

I'm batman✨

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #susan & reader #rosie x reader #masterlist #mimzy x reader

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dmc-questions-anon · 4 days

Text

You can watch here

Sorry to my fellow indecisive people and people who haven't watched, there are only 12 polls options.

#Devil May Cry #DMC #DMC Anime #Polls

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ghoulodont · 10 months

Text

β-Lactam

Getting sick on the road is a well known phenomenon in the touring world, but only a folktale for the newly summoned ghouls — up to this point. Dewdrop gets hit particularly hard by whatever illness the roadies are passing around, but the show must go on. Rain considers the nature of his relationship with his bandmate in light of subsequent events.

Relationship: Raindrop Characters: Dewdrop, Rain, Aether Words: 6846

Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Prequelle Era, Pre-relationship, warning for vomit and needles

Read below or on AO3

A plague is spreading among the production’s cast and crew.

For the more experienced members, it’s to be expected. Having that many people in close proximity for enough time is bound to encourage contagion, and they know from experience that it will. For many of the musicians — the ones who are freshly summoned from Hell, tailor-made to fill that role — it’s something they’ve only been warned about. Their ability to perform is the top priority, and they are expected to take care of themselves.

So illness prevention becomes part of their daily routine. Immune fortifiers and remedies of all kinds start showing up on the bus and at the venues, added to the hospitality rider, fetched by staff on errands, picked out themselves during their downtime.

Understandably, the vocalists are all extra concerned about how this situation might impact them. Copia keeps his distance from anyone he deems a potential disease vector, usually squirreling away to his dressing room before and after the show. Cumulus swears by a tea that purports throat soothing properties. Swiss eats cough drops nonstop, though it’s later determined that he just thinks they taste good.

Mountain hands out tiny bottles of vibrant yellow-orange juice one afternoon before the concert. The blurb on the label is packed with scientific-sounding words about vitamins and antioxidants. Rain reads the ingredients — he doesn’t recognize any other than lemon and ginger — and knocks his bottle back all at once like a shot of alcohol, as suggested. The back of his nose burns for the next two hours. Upon searching the internet he learns that “cayenne” is a type of pepper. Several other ghouls fall victim to this as well, excluding Dewdrop, who sneaks away with the bottle and passes it off to an unsuspecting roadie, and Aether, who drinks the juice but seems to genuinely enjoy the taste.

But, otherwise, it’s business as usual. As showtime approaches everyone focuses on the task at hand. They’re warmed up, soundchecked, costumed, ready to go.

And after the performance, the ghouls can relax again, for the time being. Most of them usually end up in the green room while the crew is tearing down, and tonight is no different. At some point they’ll all head to their dressing rooms and get ready to get back on the bus, and then the cycle will repeat. For now, they can revel in this brief low tide in their ebbing and flowing responsibilities.

It’s nearing the time that the party inevitably dies down when things go awry.

Dewdrop has been subdued since coming offstage. He’s always more reserved day-to-day than he is in front of a crowd, but his behavior tonight, by Rain’s assessment, is uncharacteristic. He had gone straight to a couch near the corner of the green room and barely interacted with anyone, even when Swiss pelted him with a grape from the catering table, something that on any other day would have warranted a ruthless counterattack.

At one point over the course of the evening he ventures away from his outpost to retrieve a bottle of water, but he brings it right back to where he had been sitting.

Later, out of nowhere, he drags himself up from the couch and staggers to the big commercial-grade plastic trash bin next to the door. He grabs the edge of it with enough horizontal momentum that it hits the wall with a hollow thunk before he leans his whole body over it and retches. This sudden series of actions makes everyone still in the green room pause. The sound of whatever was in his stomach — just water, presumably — hitting whatever else is in the trash can is stark in the now quiet space.

Rain is the first to react; he stands from his seat and promptly freezes in place. Aether is the first to actually get up and walk over towards the door. It snaps Rain out of his daze, and he follows behind.

Before they can get there, Dew is already on his way back to his spot on the couch. Aether recalibrates their trajectory to meet him there. Dew flops back onto the seat, his head tipped back against the top of the backrest, legs extended out in front of him, arms limp at his sides.

“What’s going on, you okay?” Aether stands over Dew, and Rain stands next to Aether. Dew doesn’t respond. His eyes are unfocused.

From this distance Dew is visibly shaking, his entire body inundated by a fine vibration that itself pulses in intensity, like a modulated wave.

“Hey,” Aether tries again, “you okay?”

Dew groans and puts his hands over his eyes. Then he jolts upright, the soles of his costume shoes squeaking against the laminate tile floor. He takes short, hitching breaths.

Aether immediately anticipates what is about to happen and drags over the trash bin. Dew leans over it, gripping the edge, and releases a tendril of saliva. He gags.

Swiss runs out of the room, hands over his ears.

The trash bin is so large compared to Dew’s seated form that it looks like he could fall into it and disappear. Rain finds a small plastic-lined wastebasket by one of the other seating areas and swaps it with the big bin. Dew relinquishes his grasp on its folded rim as Rain pulls it away. He relaxes somewhat, slumping forward with his elbows on his knees and the wastebasket between his ankles.

He heaves again, unproductive. Aether and Rain hover over him like if they look at him long enough the power of their concern could will him to be better somehow.

After a few more dry heaves, Aether prompts again, “What’s going on?”

Dew responds this time. “My throat hurts so much.”

“Your throat? Are you sick?” Aether puts the back of his hand against Dew’s forehead. Dew tries to lean away from him as he approaches, but his dodge is ineffective and Aether makes contact anyway. His gesture is so maternal, but as far as Rain knows, Aether is just as experienced with this kind of situation as he is, which is to say not at all.

“For how long?” Rain asks.

“Just today.” Dew pauses, amends his statement. “Just since the show.”

“Maybe he has what all the roadies had?” Aether wonders out loud.

"It hasn’t been this bad for anyone else, though, right?" Rain mentally tallies the casualties so far. It’s only been crew members, none of the musicians, and none of them have had to take any time off.

Aether's brow furrows. "Do you think he needs a doctor? We probably have enough time to get one here before bus call."

"Why are you asking him? I'm right here." Dew directs this comment to the wastebasket.

"Do you think you need a doctor?"

"No."

"And you're going to be better for the show tomorrow?"

"I was fine for the show tonight."

"Sure, but it seems like you're not fine now."

Rain isn’t sure whether Dew's tight-lipped expression is indicative of the nausea or the denial. Dew might not be sure himself, either.

"I think you should let a doctor look at you, at least, just in case," Rain suggests. He’s never seen Dew this sick before, or anyone else, for that matter, and it’s scaring him a little.

Dew actually always seems to be the most likely ghoul to throw up — repeatedly, even — when they're all hung over on a day off. He’s prone to motion sickness as well; Rain wasn’t there, but he’s been told it gets bad enough that on Dew’s first tour he had to swap bunks because the top one swayed too much whenever the bus took an exit on the highway. But he never really seemed bothered about any of those incidents. He certainly wasn’t trembling like a newborn fawn. So this feels different.

“Fine.”

Aether nods. “Okay, I’m going to go find someone who can help.” He briefly places his hand on Dew’s hunched shoulder before leaving.

—

Rain leans against a nearby table for a few minutes while Dew drools occasionally into the wastebasket. He’s stopped outright dry heaving over it at this point, but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to part with it. Then he suddenly moves to get up.

“I need to go shower.” Dew has to brace against the couch with his hands as he stands.

He sways in place as he rearranges his feet to avoid kicking over the wastebasket. Rain steadies him with a hand on his upper arm.

“Okay, yeah, let me walk you there.”

Dew is already walking toward the door. Rain keeps his hand on his arm and follows, letting him lead the way to his dressing room. At some point in the hallway Rain adjusts his steadying hand to hook around Dew’s waist instead. He isn’t supporting any of Dew’s weight, and only applies any pressure at all when the two of them start to veer from their intended bearing.

Dressing room situations varied between tour stops, depending on what the venue offered and what the management requested. Usually the ghouls ended up sharing them, in groups of two or three. The worst so far was actually when they had individual rooms — each room was so small that Rain could almost touch both sides at the same time if he extended his arms all the way. By the time they were all on the bus that night, there was at least one dent in the drywall that hadn’t been there before.

This time, Dew is sharing a dressing room with Aether. When they get there, it’s empty and quiet. Dew rifles through his bag for clothes and toiletries and heads for the ensuite bathroom, closing the painted steel door behind him.

Now Rain is alone in a dressing room that isn’t his. He checks the time on his phone. There’s still plenty of time before bus call. He should shower too. His shoes are glued to the worn low-pile carpet. He listens to the shower turning on in the bathroom.

Aether shows up a couple minutes later.

“Oh! Hey,” he greets, looking a little surprised to see Rain there. “I explained what happened and they’re calling a doctor to come out.”

Rain nods. “Here?”

“Yeah, and then hopefully he can be on the bus in time.”

Rain nods again, checks his phone. Aether stands there.

“You should go shower,” Aether offers.

“Yeah.” Rain doesn’t move.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s okay in there.”

This finally unglues Rain’s feet. He nods, thanks Aether, and heads for his own dressing room.

He ends up pacing around the room, and later up and down a segment of the hallway, while he waits an eternity for Swiss to finish showering. He takes his own shower as quickly as possible — normally he would be in there at least as long as Swiss was, if not longer — and finds himself drawn back to Dew and Aether’s dressing room when he’s done.

When he gets there, the door is propped open. Aether isn’t there, but Rain can hear the shower running. Dew is slouched in an armchair, curled up with his feet on the seat. He’s changed from his costume into jeans and a hoodie, and his hair is damp. As Rain steps through the door, he’s in the process of forcing down a minuscule sip of water. Dew looks up at him and offers what he thinks is supposed to be a polite smile but ends up more like a tight-lipped grimace.

“Are you feeling any better?” Rain leans against the makeup counter along one wall of the room.

Dew shrugs.

The two of them sit in relative silence for a few minutes, Rain tapping his fingers rhythmically on the laminate countertop and Dew fiddling with the lid of his plastic water bottle, before Dew leans over a strategically placed wastebasket — if Rain hadn’t walked him here himself he would have assumed Dew brought this one from the green room — and throws up the tiny mouthful of water from earlier. He sighs, quietly, turbulent air rushing out through his nose, and leans his head back against the chair.

Eventually a member of the venue staff arrives outside the room, knocking politely on the doorframe. She explains she’s here to escort Dew to where the doctor is set up. Rain hovers next to him as he stands, ready to steady him if he needs it.

The three of them zigzag through the backstage hallways. The trip isn’t far, but Dew is moving slowly, still wobbly. The staff member, seemingly stuck in a state of haste, has to stop and wait at each intersection for Dew and Rain to catch up.

Their journey ends at a door propped open by the tour manager. He waves them into a dressing room, the larger kind that might be used by an ensemble cast. It is devoid of everything but furniture, clearly not intended to be occupied tonight. There is a couch against one wall; two others are lined with makeup counters and mirrors. The doctor stands at one end of the counter, picking through a hefty bag of supplies.

They walk single file through the doorway, Dew first and then Rain. The doctor glances up at them through the mirror, then turns and introduces herself. She’s wearing inconspicuous, casual clothes, nothing that would explicitly indicate she’s a medical professional.

“Please have a seat.” She gestures toward the couch.

Dew settles onto one end of the couch, but doesn’t relax. He folds his arms loosely around himself. Rain considers his own seating options and decides to perch next to him on the couch’s padded arm in a pose somewhere between sitting and leaning.

At the counter, the doctor drapes a stethoscope around her neck and picks up a small collection of equipment.

“I’d like to start by checking your vitals,” she says.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” says the tour manager, taking a step toward the hallway while holding the door open. Rain realizes it’s a cue for him, that he is expected to leave as well.

He suddenly also realizes there was no real reason for him to have followed Dew here in the first place. The venue management had been considerate enough to find him a private room, and Rain had invaded that privacy without even thinking. He stands up from the couch arm, turning back towards Dew to tell him he’ll see him on the bus and —

Dew is looking back with his eyes wide and his shoulders tense. One of his arms is extended toward Rain from where it had been wrapped around his body, his hand resting limp on the couch in a noncommittal, minimal energy version of physically reaching out to him.

Dew has his mouth slightly open like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t.

“Should I stay?” Rain finally asks.

“If you want to,” Dew counters, not ready to admit that he’s the one who wants it.

“I don’t mind.” Rain settles back down on the arm of the couch.

Dew looks away from him and deflates, compressing back in against himself.

The tour manager just nods and waves goodbye, then lets the door swing closed.

—

The doctor crosses the room from the counter to the couch and hands Dew a digital thermometer. “Hold this under your tongue, please.”

Dew complies, holding it in place with one hand. She clips a pulse oximeter on the other.

The shrill beep of the thermometer breaks the silence in the room. Dew removes it from his mouth and hands it back to the doctor without looking at it.

She takes it and reads the glowing screen. “You have a fever. Are you having body aches? Chills?” She reaches to collect the pulse oximeter as well.

Dew lifts his hand slightly so she can unclip it from his finger, the minor exertion causing it to tremor. He shakes his head. Rain thinks about how he looked when he was flopped on the green room couch and wonders if they have different definitions of those words.

The doctor checks the measurement, hums quietly, then places the device on the couch and picks up a blood pressure cuff. She wraps it around Dew’s upper arm and then squats next to him, donning her stethoscope. She takes his forearm and flips it so his hand rests supine on his knee.

The room is quiet except for the rush of air as she inflates the cuff, then lets it slowly deflate again. The sound of the velcro ripping apart when she unwraps it echoes in the still room. Dew tucks his relinquished arm back around himself. The doctor stands and removes the stethoscope from her ears and drapes it over her shoulders again. She replaces her other equipment in her bag.

When she returns, she sits down next to Dew on the couch, perched close to the edge so she can turn to face him.

“Can you tell me more about your symptoms? The sore throat started tonight, after your performance?”

Dew nods. “I felt fine during the show. But then it was like I noticed…” He pauses, considering, as if he’s trying to string together the events. “My throat hurt a lot and I tried to drink water and I threw up.”

“Your body is full of adrenaline when you’re performing. It masks your symptoms and gives you energy, and then when it wears off you suddenly feel worse.”

Rain nods at this. It makes sense. He’s accustomed to that feeling after every show — being hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion when the excitement of the situation finally falls away. It’s absolutely never been this dramatic before, for any of them.

“Have you been drinking water since then?”

“Trying to,” Dew answers. When she raises her eyebrows, he elaborates, “It keeps coming back up.”

The doctor nods. She holds out her hand toward Dew’s. “Can I see your hand for just a minute?”

Dew offers her the hand that’s closer to her, which because of the way he’s folding his arms is actually the one from the other side of his body. She takes it and gently pinches his skin, then presses on his fingernail and watches it change color.

“You don’t seem too dehydrated right now, but it’s something to watch out for.” She releases his hand and he tucks it back against his side.

“I need to look at the inside of your throat.” She picks up a tiny flashlight.

Dew unwraps his arms from around himself, resting them in his lap instead. He sits up a little straighter, tilts his head back slightly, and opens his mouth.

She shines the light into Dew’s mouth. Rain can’t see what she sees because Dew is facing away from him. Whatever it is, her face doesn’t reveal anything. She doesn’t look for very long. Seconds later, she clicks off the light and places it on the couch. Dew closes his mouth and drops his shoulders.

“I’d like to feel the outside of your neck.” She’s paused halfway though the motion of reaching out to touch him. Her hands are palm-up, fingers curled loosely, nonthreatening. The gesture reminds Rain of someone holding their hand out for a cat to sniff before petting it.

Dew nods, staring over her shoulder at nothing.

She presses her fingers into both sides of his neck where it connects to the underside of his jaw. She walks them forward from beneath his ears towards his chin. As she feels, she asks, “Is that sore?”

“A little.” His brow is creased slightly and his mouth is drawn into a straight line.

She lowers her hands to her lap. “Have you been coughing at all?”

Dew shakes his head.

“Still nauseous?”

He pauses, then nods.

“Alright.” She sits back slightly. “Based on your symptoms it sounds like you have strep throat, but I want to run a test to confirm. It takes about ten minutes, and if it comes back positive I’ll give you an antibiotic which should have you feeling better within a day or two and also prevent you from spreading this to anyone else. Regardless, I can give you something for your symptoms so you get through your performance tomorrow night.”

She pauses. Her unasked question hangs in the air — is that okay? She’s giving Dew a chance to say no, or request another option, or do anything other than drift through this situation like an unmoored boat.

“Okay.”

“Great.” She stands up from the couch and returns to her bag on the counter. As she comes back to the couch, she peels open the paper package of a sterile cotton swab. She sits back down next to Dew, facing him like before.

“I’m going to take a sample from your throat. I need you to open your mouth and stay as still as you can.”

Dew sits up and opens his mouth again. This time, he closes his eyes.

The doctor pulls the swab from its packaging and inserts it through his open mouth and all the way to the other side of his head, rubbing it against the back of his throat. He gags, but doesn’t close his mouth. He reflexively lifts one hand from his lap like he’s going to grab her arm; it hovers for a moment before he pulls it back down.

“I know.” She keeps rubbing.

Dew lets out a tiny sound, a round, open-mouthed “ah,” and squeezes his eyes tighter shut. The flush in his cheeks spreads.

“Done, I’m sorry for that.” She stands and returns to her supplies, holding the swab upright like a lit match.

Dew slouches forward. His eyes are still closed. He sniffs once, quietly.

Rain rubs his hand back and forth along Dew’s shoulder blade. He feels the tension in his muscles ease just a little under his touch. His breaths are slow and intentional.

Rain pulls back his hand when Dew leans back on the couch, pulling his feet up in front of him. The two of them watch the doctor performing some alchemical ritual with the swab, combining reagents and swirling them in a plastic tube. When it’s complete, she pulls a laptop from her bag and types on it, which is less interesting. Rain lets his eyes drift shut.

He opens them again when Dew speaks.

“I’m sorry for making you stay. You didn’t have to.” His voice is quiet. He’s curled up now, with his arms draped loosely around his knees, leaning one side of his body against the back of the couch so he faces Rain.

Dew, in fact, didn’t make Rain do anything. He didn’t even ask him to do anything, really. But Rain knows what he’s trying to say.

“It’s okay, I wanted to,” is how Rain decides to respond. He cringes inside at the implication. He did want to stay, but it feels creepy to say it outright like that, like he had been selfish to intrude on Dew’s vulnerable situation, even though Dew just claimed he had asked him to. They’re both talking about an imaginary interaction instead of what actually happened.

If Dew hadn’t stopped him like that when he went to leave, if he had wanted privacy, Rain would have understood. He probably would have gone back to his dressing room and paced around, or made himself busy doing something useless. He would have been worried, but he would rather be worried than make Dew uncomfortable.

And if Dew hadn’t stopped him despite actually wanting him to stay, hadn’t been able to ask for what he needed in even the most subtle, minimal way — it makes Rain’s chest ache. He imagines Dew sitting in this unfamiliar room being touched by a stranger, wishing he was there with him.

But Dew looks almost comfortable now, all things considered. He’s resting the side of his head against the back of the couch, eyes closed. His face is relaxed except for a single crease between his eyebrows. Rain is nearly overpowered by a sudden instinctive desire to reach out and touch him again, to feel his forehead like Aether did, to press his hand against his flushed cheek, to tuck a strand of mostly-dry hair behind his ear. But he doesn’t want to violate the trust Dew is putting in him by simply allowing him to be here. Instead, he counts Dew’s steady breaths.

—

Rain shifts his attention to the doctor when she closes her laptop and moves back to her makeshift alchemy lab. She barely glances at the test before she’s on her way back towards the couch.

She sits next to Dew again. He pivots so he’s facing forward, but leaves his legs tucked up in front of him.

“The test is positive for strep,” she explains, “which is treatable with antibiotics.”

Dew nods.

“Because of the vomiting I would recommend an antibiotic injection. Given your schedule, I think it’s the most reliable choice. The other option is pills, but if you can’t keep them down you won’t see any benefit.”

Dew is staring at the carpet somewhere near the middle of the room. He nods again, slowly, like he’s on autopilot.

“It’s just one dose and it will start working right away. I really do think it would be the best way to ensure you’re feeling better by tomorrow night.”

Dew glances at her and nods again, a little more present this time.

“Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I can also give you a corticosteroid to help with the inflammation in your throat until the antibiotic starts working.”

“Okay.”

She nods. “I’ll be right back.”

She stands and crosses the room once again to the counter. She picks an assortment of sterile packages and medicine vials out of her bag. She unwraps empty syringes and plastic-capped needles.

Rain has gotten shots before — each of the ghouls had been vaccinated against earthly diseases soon after being summoned. He didn’t mind them. They hadn’t really hurt, though his arms were sore afterwards. The idea of something being injected into him makes his stomach turn, but he had made sure not to look when it was happening and the actual experience ended up being uneventful.

These syringes are significantly larger than any he’s seen before, though. He watches the doctor fill one of them at least two thirds of the way full in a single motion. It makes his stomach drop.

Dew, on the other hand, has never been squeamish about anything. Blood, gore, and other stuff like that doesn’t phase him whatsoever. He isn’t really averse to pain either. Rain wouldn’t expect needles to be an issue for him. Looking at him now, Rain can’t place the expression on his face. It’s not one he would have imagined.

Dew is watching the doctor closely. He looks exhausted, which is expected. His eyes are lidded and rimmed with dark circles. He still has that single crease between his eyebrows. He’s frowning, just barely, a slight deviation from his usual neutral expression that you might not notice if you didn’t know him. There’s something else in his face that, if Rain had to put a word to it, he would guess it was nervousness, or apprehension. It’s visible in the way he tracks the doctor’s every move despite his eyes clearly wanting to be closed. He seems to be carrying more tension than he can afford to right now.

The doctor has gone back to searching for something in her bag. “Okay,” she instructs, “can you lower your pants a couple inches and lie facing down on the couch for me please?”

Dew’s eyes widen just a bit, just for a moment. But he stands, unbuttons his jeans, and slides the waistband down slightly. Then he lowers himself back onto the couch.

He doesn't actually lie all the way down; his hips and legs are flat against the couch, but his head and shoulders are propped up with his elbows. Rain imagines he's ready to fling himself up from the couch and scuttle away. It’s at odds with how sluggish his movements have been since he came offstage tonight.

Dew turns his head to watch the doctor cross the room but looks down at the couch when she gets close. She squats next to the couch and places her supplies on the seat near his leg: two prepared syringes, two adhesive bandages, a few alcohol swab packets and some small gauze pads.

She pushes the edge of his hoodie up to expose the bare skin of his hip. She tears open the wrapper of an alcohol swab, saturating the air with its sharp smell.

“I’m going to start with the steroid.”

Dew nods without looking at her, plucking at a loose thread on the edge of the couch seat cushion. He flinches slightly when she wipes the back of one hip with alcohol. She picks up one of the syringes, pulls the cap off the needle.

Dew glances up at Rain with that same inscrutable expression — tired, apprehensive. He’s blushing, or maybe it’s just because he’s feverish. Rain smiles, tries his best to look reassuring. Dew’s flush deepens. He breaks away from the eye contact.

The doctor places one gloved hand on Dew’s sanitized hip. “Try to relax your leg as much as possible.” She taps her fingers against his skin a few times. Dew’s body is lean and wiry, but this is one of his softer places.

Dew wiggles his feet a bit to loosen the muscles in his legs.

“Good. Here we go.”

She sticks the needle in quickly like an animal striking its prey. Dew doesn’t react to this, but the sudden motion makes Rain flinch.

She presses down on the plunger of the syringe painstakingly slowly. Rain decides he can’t watch this part. He watches Dew’s face instead. His eyes are closed but he looks mostly the same as before. A muscle in his jaw flexes.

When the doctor withdraws the needle she immediately flips an attached plastic cover over it. She presses a folded square of gauze over the tiny puncture wound on Dew’s hip.

“Well done. One more.” She’s praising Dew for doing absolutely nothing, but Rain supposes that must be the point. He still looks like he’s considering in the back of his mind that he could get up and run away.

She removes the gauze and smooths a band-aid over the puncture. She selects another alcohol swab and unwraps it, renewing the lingering smell in the room.

“Relax,” she reminds him, rubbing his other hip with the swab.

She picks up the other syringe and removes the cap from the needle. This one seems bigger. Not the needle, but the contents of the syringe are greater. Rain is trying not to think too much about details like that.

She repeats the same procedure — hand on his hip, needle through his skin like a predator, slow pressure on the plunger. Rain looks away from it again.

Dew’s eyes are closed again, and his jaw is still tense. His fingers curl slightly against the flat surface of the couch seat cushion. He cranes his neck to look behind him at what the doctor is doing. The plunger has barely moved. He turns himself back around and lets his head hang forward between his shoulders. He pushes a slow breath out through his nose.

Rain watches Dew's hands close fully into fists.

Rain offers his hand to hold instead. He’s not sure if Dew would accept it. His understanding is that affectionate touch is a gray area for Dew. It’s more likely to be okay when it’s playful and unserious. And onstage, anything goes; it’s all a game. Rain would place hand holding firmly in mushy, lovey-dovey, serious territory, completely off limits. But his other supportive and even comforting touches tonight had been uncharacteristically tolerated, and it's not like anyone else is here to see them besides this doctor — who he's pretty sure they will never encounter again. Plus, it’s not necessarily romantic at all. He would do this for anyone, he tells himself.

Dew grasps his hand immediately, without looking up. He doesn't squeeze it tightly, but his grip is firm. Rain presses back with just as much force. He glances up at the doctor, unintentionally making eye contact. She looks away, back to her task, without saying anything. Rain looks back to his and Dew’s hands.

Dew is still looking down, motionless. It makes Rain think of the way a sick wild animal will shut down and hide from predators in some secluded place. Or, more broadly, the instinct of fight or flight. He already observed Dew’s desire to flee in his body language, and there’s clearly no fight in him right now. All that’s left for him to do is accept what’s happening.

Rain ventures a glance to the syringe again. It’s probably about halfway emptied. Which means half of what was in it is now deposited inside Dew’s flesh. He snaps his gaze away from it and tightens his grip on Dew’s hand — just sympathetically, he justifies, not because that makes him feel queasy.

Dew squeezes back a little tighter too.

“Keep breathing slowly,” the doctor encourages. “You’re doing great.”

This first comment makes Rain notice his breathing sped up just now, and he has to glance up at her to see if it was actually directed at him. It doesn’t seem to be — she’s looking at Dew — but he realizes that Dew’s breathing has been mirroring his. So maybe it was, in a roundabout way, an instruction for him. He focuses on setting a good example.

He counts eight measured breaths before it’s over.

“Good job,” the doctor says as she removes the needle. “You’re all done.”

Dew’s shoulders droop. Rain releases his hand. The doctor continues with the rest of the procedure from before — needle cover, gauze, band-aid. Then she gathers her discarded items and returns to the counter.

Dew rolls himself onto his side and gingerly sits up. He runs his hands over his face, pausing for a few seconds with both palms cupping his jaw, eyes unfocused. Then he stands and shimmies up his pants and fastens the button. Rain stands too, ready to support him if necessary.

The doctor is digging in her bag again.“You’ll be contagious for the next day or so, so try to avoid close contact as much as possible.” She returns to the ghouls with a small stack of disposable face masks and offers them to Dew. “You should wear a mask at least until your performance tomorrow.”

Dew nods, taking them and putting one on right there. The pastel yellow contrasts with his otherwise all-black outfit.

“Try to keep drinking fluids and get as much rest as you can. The steroid will give you a bit of a boost, so don’t overdo it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Anything else I can do for you?”

Dew shakes his head.

“Well, if you think of anything, you can have your tour manager get in contact with me. I won’t be able to see you again but I can answer questions or consult with any other providers you see."

Dew nods. He’s thumbing through the stack of masks like the world’s most boring flipbook.

“Alright, take care. Feel better.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks,” Rain echoes.

—

With that, the two of them wordlessly split to their separate dressing rooms to retrieve their bags.

After packing, Rain backtracks down the hall to Dew’s dressing room instead of heading straight to the bus. He checks the time on his phone. He’s cutting it much closer than he would ever consider doing on any other day. Their schedule is usually strict — the shows are the top priority, of course, and everything surrounding them is carefully arranged maximize their success — but maybe illness would be an extenuating circumstance. Regardless, he’s already decided he won’t let Dew risk getting left behind alone. If the bus leaves without Dew, it will leave without Rain as well.

In his dressing room, Dew is haphazardly throwing items into his bag. He startles slightly when he notices Rain through the mirror, but goes right back to packing his luggage. When he’s done, the two of them head for the bus.

Thankfully, the bus is still there when they get outside, parked just past the back door of the venue. Dew wobbles on the first step of the steep staircase, and Rain steadies him with a hand on the middle of his back. They proceed up into the warmly lit front lounge.

Everyone else is already there, and so everyone’s eyes are on them as they get to the top of the stairs. Swiss is the first to greet them.

“Hey, look who made it!”

Dew glares at him. “Back off, I’m contagious.”

“I see how it is,” Swiss says, looking pointedly at Rain, who is still following Dew closely.

Dew tugs at the top of his mask like he’s going to pull it down. Swiss raises his hands in surrender.

Dew and Rain continue through the tight space of the lounge into the aisle between the two rows of bunks. Rain lets the door swing closed behind them. It’s quiet, and darker than the front lounge.

Dew hurls his bag at the closed curtains of his bunk. It ends up halfway on the mattress, halfway on the floor of the aisle. He nudges it with his foot, to no effect, wobbling as he tries to balance on one leg. He grips the platform of the middle bunk to steady himself and kicks at it again. It remains stubbornly on the ground. He crouches and shoves it all the way inside.

He groans quietly as he stands back up, one hand against his hip and the other clenched into a fist. The sound makes Rain pause where he’s stowing items in his own bunk. He watches Dew stand there, unmoving except for the heaving rise and fall of his chest.

Then Dew moves the hand on his hip to one belt loop of his jeans and yanks the waistband down slightly. He hitches up the hem of his hoodie with the other hand, exposing the band-aid there from earlier. He cranes his neck so he can look at it. Rain isn’t sure what Dew was expecting to see, but it’s just a plain, unmarred band-aid, looking like it could be covering up nothing at all.

Dew prods at the flesh of his hip with one finger, pressing into a spot an inch above the band-aid. Facing away, masked, head tucked behind his shoulder, it’s the only part of him Rain can see.

Rain isn’t sure what comes over him, but this image of Dew metaphorically licking his wounds, with his frustration simmering over, pulls at his heart. He reaches out and places his hand over the band-aid.

Dew’s sharp inhale hisses through his teeth.

“Sorry.” Rain snatches his hand back.

“It’s okay. It actually feels nice. Your hands are cold.”

Rain lays his fingers over the spot again, touching as lightly as possible. Dew exhales, almost a sigh.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s okay,” he answers, too quickly, a question Rain wasn’t asking. “But yeah, more than I expected. Feels like I pulled a muscle.”

Dew turns around so they’re facing each other, but doesn’t make eye contact. Instead he looks down at the hem of Rain’s shirt, pinches at it, worries it between his fingers, not actually touching him but bridging an indirect connection between their bodies.

Rain lets his hand fall away when Dew moves, but puts them back, both of them this time, on Dew’s hips. He strokes his fingers up to his waist under his shirt, then back down again. The skin there is so warm.

“It’s not that bad. Everything is just, a lot. Right now.” Dew’s voice is so small. “My brain is frying.”

It sort of is, in a literal way. Dew leans forward and rests his forehead against Rain’s shoulder. Rain can feel the heat radiating through his shirt.

“And my throat really fucking hurts and now my ass hurts too and I still feel like I’m going to throw up everywhere.”

Rain thinks his chest might crack open and swallow him up.

“Oh,” is what he manages to say to express this feeling. “Can I get you something? Water? Tea, maybe?” He thinks. “An ice pack?”

Dew chuckles, or maybe scoffs.

“I don’t know,” Rain backpedals. “I’ll get you anything on this bus. Or I’ll make the driver stop somewhere before we get on the highway if you want.”

“I mostly just want to sleep right now.”

“Okay, well, text me if you need anything.”

Dew pulls back from his shoulder to look up at him. He’s smiling; the mask is covering his mouth but Rain can tell by the way his cheeks are raised near the corners of his eyes.

“Maybe an ice pack would be nice.”

#ghost band fanfic #raindrop ghost #fic i wrote #sorry this is an old fic again but i just need it on my blog #i almost made one single-word edit but i kept it as is #and did i change my fic posting format again? yes i did

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accirax · 1 year

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Nene’s Role in Wonderlands x Showtime

The release of The Miniature Garden’s Coral seems to have confirmed some things I’ve recently speculated might transpire in future Wonderlands x Showtime events-- namely regarding Nene and how she may actually be the most important member of the troupe-- so, let’s talk about them! I’ll be using zui’s lyrics video for my translations, so hopefully they’re accurate.

With the past couple of WxS events in mind, it’s easy to see that this 3DMV is also about endings. While the MV begins in a sunny blue afternoon light...

...the characters and set eventually bask in a beautiful sunset orange, signaling the end of the day. The lyrics even mention being “between the end of the blue sky and the beginning of the night sky,” further emphasizing that we’re in the middle of the story. When the sky is blue, the troupe expresses uncertainty: Rui mentions that he feels lost, and Tsukasa, scared. But eventually, Nene admits that, in this beginning period, she was “spoiled by the sound of the waves,” AKA that the commotion surrounding WxS’s formation led to a troupe that became a source of comfort for all of them.

Once the sun sets, there are a lot of “even ifs.” Nene sings about how she’ll continue to sing this song, even if things are starting to look unsteady and she’s not sure if she should proceed. However, by the end of the song, she resolves to "still sing this song” while keeping up a smile.

I think that the fact that Nene says she will sing this song is incredibly important, because, as established, this song is about endings. Meanwhile, back in Mr. Showtime, Tsukasa firmly didn’t want WxS to end, and was holding out until closing time. Rui’s What Sort of Ending Are You Wishing For? and Emu’s Starry Sky Orchestra seemingly both acknowledge an ending as well, but it’s not at all easy. Rui seems to fall into a resigned depression at the thought, keeping a whimsical facade up when the very thought of separating kills him inside. The thought haunts him, MV riddled with hourglasses that he can’t get out of his head. Emu can only tolerate taking the first step towards a breakup with tooth-rottingly sugarcoated promises of eternal togetherness and literally holding hands as they go (I love her btw this is not Emu slander). She never even says the word “end,” only “tomorrow.”

Rui, Emu, and Tsukasa are basically Denialx3. Rui tries to deny his emotions regarding disbanding, Emu tries to deny that the ending is coming at all, and Tsukasa tries to deny that there’s nothing he can do to keep them from inevitably drifting apart. And that’s where Nene comes in again.

Rui’s dream is to perform technically complex shows that will resonate with an audience. He can do that from Phoenix Wonderland. Emu’s dream is to keep the Wonder Stage up and operating forever. She has to do that from Phoenix Wonderland. Tsukasa’s dream is to become the number one world star and make everyone smile. While this would likely take him away from the park, in another story, I could see it being possible that, in the end, Tsukasa decides that making the people in his local community happy is more important than trying to change the entire world. Thus, he could also follow his dream from Phoenix Wonderland, even if it’s not ideal.

But then there’s Nene. Her dream is, and always has been, to perform in Broadway musicals. Broadway is a live performance in New York City. There is no possible way for Nene to get what she wants while staying in Phoenix Wonderland. And that is possibly why Wonderlands x Showtime’s ending is the easiest for her to process.

Now, I’m not trying to say that Nene doesn’t love her friends. She adores them. Her three previous commissions have proven that. It’s the amount of love she has for them that will propel her to make what is actually the best choice for their dreams. Nene is the little mermaid, both when swimming freely the oceans with a beautiful, unstoppable song, and when enduring pain herself to stand with and for the ones she loves. Her friends, in this situation... are coral.

Remember that coral, “blurred” and uncertain in the water and “stained orange by the setting sun”? The miniature garden is Phoenix Wonderland; the coral is Emu, Rui, and Tsukasa; and that coral is stained orange by its desperation to keep rereading the final chapter instead of closing the book for now and putting it away to revisit in the future. Coral, while a beautiful living organism, is also completely static.

Static like stone statues which, at least by my interpretation, is what the rest of WxS turns into at the end of the 3DMV. The three of them (and Kaito) are paralyzed with the fear of the suffering an ending would bring. Only Nene is alive and human to be the one to show the group the benefits it can bring as well.

There are a lot of aspects of this song and Nene’s entire personality that lead me to believe that she will be the one to bring about change in WxS. First, she most often “has the braincell,” so to speak. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she performs this song with Kaito, the most mature of the WxS vocaloids, either. During April Fool’s 2023, she was put into the Solid Heart class. One might think that troupe leader Tsukasa should be the Solid Heart, and that shy Nene should be the Cautious Heart, but they (accurately) sorted it the other way.

Nene is a very strong-willed person. In other stories, it might be seen as a negative that Nene is always the most hesitant one to get into shenanigans, or that she would even dare to be the one to suggest a WxS split in the first place. What an ungrateful wet blanket Nene is, willing to throw away her friends for the sake of her own selfish dream. But in this story, staying at Phoenix Wonderland isn’t really what will make Rui or Tsukasa happy, and even Emu may have to graduate to focusing on the entire company instead of just one stage someday.

Nene’s friends brought her out of the darkness and into the light of day, and she is so grateful for that. She knows how amazing they are, which is how she knows that they can make more friends and continue to do even more amazing things in the future if they can bear to leave their high school part-time jobs behind and enter the real world, just like her.

So, Nene’s role is to be Wonderlands x Showtime’s guiding light. She’ll tell Rui what sort of ending she’s wishing for, and then console him when he can’t repress his tears. She’ll be the one to hold Emu’s hand while they take that next step into tomorrow. Her three best friends helped her to grow from the loner who operated a robot from the theme park bushes, and she’ll help them step out of that theme park and be who they truly want to be.

There is one other thing I wanted to mention, though...

Tsukasa.

As I mentioned previously, while all three of Rui, Emu, and Tsukasa are in denial, Tsukasa is the most actively in opposition to an ending. He’s also the troupe leader, and the sole creator of the Wonderland Sekai. If someone is going to actively try to stop Nene from suggesting separation, it’s definitely going to at least start with him. But as Nene has already stated in The Miniature Garden’s Coral, despite any opposition that makes her question whether or not she should proceed, she already plans to continue singing her beliefs about a bittersweet yet timely goodbye.

And, their conflict is something that’s basically been foreshadowed from the beginning too, right? Nene has always roasted Tsukasa, giving a counterpoint to his blindingly bright worldview. In upcoming chapters, however, I believe that may start to transform from simple fun banter into a genuine conflict with clear sides drawn...

And THAT’S why ColoPale gave them Childish War.

Nenekasa nation get ready, ‘cause I don’t think this is the last Nene and Tsukasa fight we’re going to see.

#project sekai #pjsekai #nene kusanagi #tsukasa tenma #rui kamishiro #emu otori #wonderlands x showtime #as always thank you so much for reading!!!#i can post things about the rest of wxs too not just tsukasa i love all of them #on that note though i was reading something lately about angstkasa #and how a lot of the people who haven't read the source material mischaracterize him (and others)#and uh well. i haven't actually read much of the source material #so i'm SUPER sorry if i'm mischaracterizing him here it is not at all my intention #i just hear a lot about what happens on JP and have thoughts and feelings about it so i post #my theories regarding sekai are always meant to be a best case scenario #where the stories are as interesting and the characters are as deep as possible #i fully acknowledge that what i wrote here might not actually be true #i don't want to get anyone's hopes up about something that i have no guarantees will actually happen #i just want to have fun while we're all here y'know? :)#that is all. i can't wait to see where the story goes from here #my theories #WXS

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mavis-the-apple-pie · 5 months

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WARNING FOR PEACH SHOWTIME SPOILERS

Listen, I played Showtime, I saw the silly Sour Bunch guys and I just couldn’t help but make an OC of a member that just wanna act like other Theets

Clairette is named after a french variety of white grapes, much like how Grape’s french name, Syrah, is a black grape variety

She’s the only girl among the lowest ranked members, and also a lil pampered by Grape, who promised her a big role in the tragedy she’s planning. As a result, she’s either romantically pursued by her peers or disliked because she’s Grape’s pet

She somehow survived the whole theater collapse’s event and tried to blend in with the Theets, because she was mortified at the thought of being destroyed by Peach like she did for all her congeners

When she was inevitably discovered because she has the tedency to accidently cause chaos in the plays, and her darkle got purified, she assumed a new appearance instead, definitly free from Grape’s influence. Now she’s working hard to be up as a new actress of the Sparkle Theater, as the last standing member of the Sour Bunch, and possibly the only one who can potentially become a Sparkla

(Am I planning to ship her with a Sparkla? HMMMMMMMMMM)

#princess peach showtime #peach showtime #princess peach #madame grape #stella #sparklas #super mario bros #super mario #oc #original character #super mario oc

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indndwnshead · 7 months

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Amalgamation: Bonus - You + Maknae line

Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) Reader

Chapter tags: developing relationship, meeting the little bros, surprisingly wise but still baby-est jungkook

Series summary:

Now that you are a permanent fixture in Min Yoongi's life, it's inevitable that you meet the rest of BTS.

Each encounter with the rest of the group becomes a unique thread in the tapestry of life, gradually integrating disparate elements into a harmonious whole and seamlessly weaving into the fabric of your joined world.

A/N: A bonus chapter to celebrate Yoongi's birthday, ft the maknae line. HAPPY BIRTHDAY OUR DEAREST DARLING, OUR YOONIVERSE <3

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Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.