#OH and the fucking ignition for the stove is broken so me and my lighter have been getting deliciously intimate with the gas

[sleepy-stitches]

this kitchen fucking sucks. i have actual grievances but most fucking importantly the cabinets are in just the right position that i cant sit on the counter anywhere

[sergeanttpoliteness]

➹teenage vows➹(peter b. parker x fem!reader)

Requested by anon➝   hi!! is it alright to request some peter b parker x fem!reader confession/proposal scene? tysm ❤❤

It’s time Peter caught up to some promises he made long ago. Like, embarrassingly long ago.

word count: 6k

a/n: hello! hope whoever’s reading this is having a good day bc u deserve it. just a heads up, but i think i’m gonna post a lot slower bc school starts tomorrow (pls kill me) and i gotta work hard if i want to get in a good college, y’know. gross. but anyway, i hope whoever requested it likes it! i had so much fun writing it and it’s rlly sweet and short, my heart is warm. i promise i’ll be uploading part 2 of one make out session next, idk when but i’m working on it (: enjoy!

It was moments like these— the ones where you flashed him teary smile, and reassured him that you didn't mind him leaving you for the night to go and save the city desperate for his protection— that Peter desired to pause the outside world just so it could be you and you only; no agonizing battles, no villains tearing him to pieces, no delinquents threatening the safety of others when they could barely even withstand a punch. Because just as much as everyone else, you needed him; and as guilty as it made him feel, he pondered the possibility of putting away the mantle of the Spiderling for a single night as he perched on the window sill hesitating, wearing his suit, his mask not fully on yet. But you both knew no such thing was an option whilst the news played loudly in the background, the piercing wails of the police sirens multiplying with each passing moment. You simply grasped the fabric and covered his face, smirking as you slowly walked away from the aperture. "Go save some civilians, Spider-Boy." You couldn't see it, but he grinned behind his disguise, for that nickname which would've bothered him if it'd come from someone else's mouth had set his heart ablaze ever since you two were just some kids; and the flare persisted, even as fervent bodies molded into jaded souls, beaten down by the colossal waves of changes and cataclysms that collided into you one after another.

That day you'd been victim of too many tides.

The evening that unfolded wasn't the one Peter planned. Not at all. Life was anything but a fairy tale; his surely wasn't close to being one, but he'd conjure that magic— transform reality into a children's book with your arms around his neck, his around your waist, your lips close, a soft amorous graze, your living room as the ballroom as you two gently swayed until the clock struck midnight. He'd plotted all the details, from the scent of the candles to every compliment he'd utter. Perhaps he worried too much, but it's what your love demanded, what you deserved, a happily ever after, and he'd oblige the heavens to bring you just that. More calamities were what the cosmos had in mind for you and Peter, though, a sour reality-shattering reminder of how nonsensical wasting time in dreaming of that fairy story was.

The first blow hit you (quite literally) just minutes after you woke up, and Peter accidentally knocked a cupboard into your nose. 'How was your morning?' Your coworker asked, the steaming vapor of her coffee clouding her glasses. You went cross-eyed as you glanced down at the gauze on your nose, briefly recalling the previous events— gushing blood, too much for your liking, maybe a broken nose, who knows, and a string of Peter's apologies flying at you at the speed of light as he placed the bandage over your wound. You wore a tight-lipped smile and shrugged while you were unabashedly dishonest— 'oh, you know, same old'. Yeah, because your boyfriend unintentionally breaking your nose (it's not broken, you insisted) was a normal thing, right? Then came the second slap to your face as a revelation; remembrance dawned upon you, your speeding brain screeching to a halt, and you sighed into your hands. It was you and Peter's two year anniversary.

The man spent the entirety of his work blasting himself; it hadn't slipped his memory, unlike you (which was a surprise, seeing how your enthusiasm the day prior could easily be compared to a child's in a candy store), but after his imbecility and shame, how could he not forget to kiss your forehead and bring you breakfast to your bed as a sweet morning surprise the same way you did last year? It didn't stop there— oh, no, it did not— for then came the third inconvenience of the day: goddamn Jameson went on another rant about him— or well, Spider-Man; not a phenomenon, really, you get used to it, but it was at the worst time possible. He timed it: fifteen whole minutes of his booming voice and curses, 'more pictures of the menace!' or whatever, as if Peter didn't already feel ludicrous enough while taking pictures of himself, or the twenty pictures scattered across his boss' desk were a meager effort. An unwanted setback, although he arrived back home nevertheless, scurrying to your bedroom and clumsily removing his clothes along the way. Suit? Check. Clean-shaven face? Check. That one fragrance which turned you on? Check that, too. Roses?

"Ah, shit." He muttered as he took the cooking pot from the cabinet. Roses. Stupid Jameson and his obsession with Spidey— he forgot to stop by the flower shop. It was alright, though, he could deal with it; no flowers? No problem. Just... the food needed to be good, restaurant-type of cuisine, and taking in mind he wasn't a terrific cook, it'd be quite the challenge. Peter lit the lighter, his hand on the stove's knob, prepared to ignite the burner, but he swore it'd suddenly come to life and taunted him, laughed at his upcoming defeat. He narrowed his eyes at the object, somewhat intimidated, when the front door slammed open. He peered up at the clock hanging on the wall. You were back ahead of time, a lot earlier than he'd anticipated; he didn't even have all the ingredients out yet. He alleviated the clutching in his chest with a deep breath before rushing over to the small portable stereo (you two really needed an upgrade), his finger pressing down on a button. He was satisfied with the soft tunes from the random jazz station and scratched the back of his neck as he went to greet you.

"Hey! You're... early." Saying that your appearance was rough would've been uncalled for, but your scowl and glossy eyes kindled that concern in the pit of his stomach. It was another punch, one that caught him off guard as he frowned and immediately wrapped his arms around you. "Hey, what's wrong?" His worry evoked a pang of guilt in you, and you thought about pulling away, but you couldn't, instead digging your nose deeper into the crook of his neck.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I just..." You reassured, your tense shoulders relaxing since God, you could breathe in that cologne of his, and he smelled so good. "You look hot."

You sensed his breath catch in his throat before he chuckled, rubbing the small of your back. "I'm glad you think that, but let's talk about you, alright?" You lifted your head to meet his gaze, smiling weakly when he placed a careful kiss on your temple. You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head.

"I got a speeding ticket. Two hundred."

Fifth strike.

He blinked, processing your confession, his eyes slowly growing big. "Two hundred?!" You were expecting it; it was a normal reaction, yet you squirmed, flailing your hands as you attempted to explain yourself.

"I'm sorry—"

"Why? How?"

"I'm sorry," You repeated, your hands on top of your head. "I'm so stupid. I can't believe I'm so dumb, and we were saving for the trip but I just fucking ruined it. You deserve a vacation, Pete, I'm so sorry I'm like this." You spoke fast, pulling at your hair with frustration as you walked back and forth in front of him.

"Y/N..." He sighed, upset, of course, but forgiving. "Don't be so hard on yourself. It was just a mistake and we'll get through it, okay?" Your pacing ceased, skepticism crossing your face. "Yeah! The vacation can wait just for a bit. It'll be even more rewarding, anyway." He said with a beam, cupping your cheeks. You didn't know where the rare optimism came from, but you laughed at your lover, the remorse fortifying because you truly did not deserve the tolerance. On the spur of the moment, your fingers threaded through his hair and you pulled him in, urgent lips against his own soft ones. He couldn't help the subtle moan he emitted, dazed by your sudden lust as you spilled all your fervor and hunger into him; all emotion drained from every one of your cells, your fist gripping his jacket, tugging him as close to you as possible, bodies flush together, wrinkling the formerly smooth fabric, yet it wasn't enough.

His hand sneaked inside your shirt, riding up your back; but he paused and groaned, breaking apart from your blissful mouth. "After dinner, but right now I need you to help me because I haven't even gotten started with the food yet." He panted, abstaining from flinging all his cares far away and caving into your luring warmth to please you. Your mouth curved into a smile and you rolled your eyes, pushing him toward the kitchen.

He immediately got back to work, filling the large pot with water, but you stopped at the entrance and glanced down at your outfit. "I should get changed, shouldn't I?"

Peter turned around, shamelessly eyeing your body with desire. "You look perfect." You snorted.

"Peter, you're wearing a suit and I'm still in my work clothes."

"Maybe I... overdid it a bit?" He admitted with a bashful twitch of his lips. He took off his suit jacket, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows while you stole his discarded coat. He didn't notice until you put it on, quirking a brow. "You playing dress up or what?"

"This is it. This is what I'm gonna wear." You declared, raising your arms to show off your glorious look."

Peter bit his lip, a grin breaking out across his face, staring at you as if you were a divine entity, the physical proof of the existence of the heavens above as you straightened the creases. "You look silly." Adorable, he corrected himself internally.

"Nuh-uh, sir, I look hot." You scoffed, although you didn't look silly nor hot, but rather like a little kid who went through an exploration in his father's closet. You'd made up your mind, though; sacrificing a good-looking outfit sounded thousands of times better than actually making the effort to appear decent. You finished your five-second fashion exhibition before a full-blown runway commenced when your stomach rumbled, and summoned your inner chef, standing beside Peter. "You deal with the pasta, I'm gonna pick the salad because there's no way to mess that up."

"I'm the fuck-up, so shouldn't it be the other way around?" He muttered, and as if on cue, he almost spilled the dry pasta noodles all over the counter after miscalculating his strength and tore the bag open. His eyes drifted to you, and just like he predicted, you sported a judgmental expression. "I've got it."

"I dunno, I feel like if I give you a knife you're gonna somehow accidentally stab me." You chuckled, gesturing to the knife in your grasp. His face twisted with remorse. "I'm not feeling so lucky today."

"How's, uh, how's your nose doing?" He questioned, fault gnawing on him. It was the third time the man asked you, the first one being before you left for work, and the remaining a phone call and message during your shift. You, indubitably, told him everything was splendid, as if you didn't almost cry from the pain right after you waved goodbye to him and closed your front door.

"It's okay," You shrugged, despite the sting in the bridge of your nose. "Yeah, you know, it doesn't really hurt. Okay, no, that's a lie— it hurts a bit, but it's not something I can't handle."

"I'm so, so sorry I broke your nose. That was a really dick move."

"It's not broken!" You corrected him, pointing your finger at him. "It's fine. Don't worry, it just looks broken."

"If it looks broken, then it's broken."

"Since when are you a doctor?"

The corner of his lips tugged upwards as he added the pasta to the boiling water. "Y/N, getting my nose broken is my second job."

"Okay, whatever. I've heard the word 'broken' enough times today." You giggled, but then nibbled on your cheek while you began to slice a tomato. "Hey, I need to tell you something."

He swallowed, his throat all of a sudden dry. He opened his mouth to speak, but the abrupt ringing of his phone drove his attention to the device. "Hold on," He took it out of his pocket, his brows knitting together as he checked the screen. Your chest tightened after you sneaked a glimpse of the caller ID. "MJ? Hi!" He greeted, his voice way too cheery and his gaze still on you.

Your chopping came to a halt and you settled the knife on the cutting board. Her voice was clear, audible, yet you couldn't properly distinguish any of her words. Peter hummed as you held onto the counter, your knuckles turning white when his features broke out into a wide grin. "That's great! See, I told you you'd get through it."

Get through it, you reiterated in your head, the sixth wave crashing into your hot-blooded body.

"Yeah... yeah. You too. Night." He finally hung up, and your hand found itself on your hip.

"MJ?" You inquired, your eyebrows raised. He resumed his cooking, his phone forgotten on the countertop and you shot daggers at it.

"Yeah, she just wanted to tell me something."

"Tell you something?"

A crease appeared between his eyebrows and he looked at you sideways, confused. "A problem she fixed."

"Huh. I see." You grumbled, your brows scrunched together. Peter turned to face you, folding his arms across his chest.

"What?"

You met his stare. "What?"

"You're annoyed. I can tell."

"I'm not annoyed." You countered, squinting.

"Yeah, you are, 'cause you're doing that thing with your eyebrows—" He waved his hand, motioning toward your face. You mirrored his stance, doing exactly what he pointed out. "They get really expressive when you're mad."

"Suddenly, there's something wrong with my eyebrows?" You knew you were reaching, but the irritation dominated your mouth. Peter stammered in disbelief, briskly shaking his head.

"What?! Y/N, I did not say that at all."

You leaned against the kitchen counter, your lips tight until you were talking again. "You know, I just think it's kinda weird."

Peter looked heavenward, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, here we go." He took in a deep breath, peeved. "What?"

"How you and Mary Jane have been calling each other so much lately." You mumbled, hugging yourself.

"What about it?"

Now you were the incredulous one. "What about it? Peter, it's weird."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time, but explain why." He said, exasperated.

Your jaw tightened and you picked up the knife before restarting with the slashing of the food, your hold of the tool harsh. "I don't really need to explain myself."

"Well, I want you to!"

"Alright, you want to know why it's weird? You want me to tell you?" Your tone grew louder.

"Yes, please! Go on!" Peter nodded, voice equally as bitter. You scraped the sliced tomatoes off of the cutting board with the knife, careless about where they landed, and clutched a second vegetable.

"She's your ex." You hissed. He had to momentarily walk away, although not too far considering the restricted place. He rubbed his face, holding up two fingers with his other hand.

"That was two years ago. Almost three."

"Your ex-wife!"

"I know what she is, Y/N, but there's no need to be worried. There's a reason why it didn't work out."

"It's kinda hard not to worry when she's calling you all the time, apparently telling you about all the problems in her life and who knows what else. I bet you call her to complain about me, or something." You poked his chest with a pickle.

He pushed the cucumber away with his finger, laughing. "Oh my god, you're being so ridiculous right now."

"I'm allowed to be ridiculous right now!" You shouted, slamming the green edible on the piece of wood.

"We're just friends! I can't even believe I have to say this!"

You shot him a sneer. "How can you just be friends with your ex?"

"Well, that's what we were after we broke up the first time, no?" He claimed, his forehead creased. You grew quiet and weakly dug the blade into the cucumber.

"That's different, I was your best friend. I am your best friend." You whispered, but he wasn't taking it.

He tilted his head back, his eyes closed. "It's really not different."

"It is!" You persisted, "We were kids, and I was friends with Gwen, so obviously it's not like I even thought about trying something."

"You think MJ is trying something?"

You blinked furiously, lifting one shoulder. "You know we never got along that well!"

Peter took a step closer to you, holding himself up with his hand on the counter. "She wouldn't ever do that, Y/N, no matter how bad things are between you two." You rolled your eyes.

"How would you know?"

God, you truly were driving him crazy. He began to tap his foot, groaning. "How would I know? How would I know? We were together for sixteen years, I know a lot more than you do!"

"Sixteen years, no way there still wouldn't be some sort of feelings." You lowly told yourself, but he still listened. He squeezed his hands closed and his view landed on the bundle of bananas inside a basket. He ripped one, peeling it open and taking a large bite, his infuriation pushing him to stress-eat. You heard him exclaim, as if he'd managed to remember an idea long repressed.

"What about that one guy you're always talking with? Thomas, was it?" He began, his mouth full. You whispered 'oh my god' as he swallowed before continuing. "You two dated, didn't you?"

You placed your hand on your chest, unbelieving that he decided to complain about the most insignificant guy in your relationship. "Peter, he's my coworker."

"Well, it's kinda hard not to worry!" He mocked you, flailing his arm.

"Fucking hell."

"He's all attractive and shit, with his eight-pack, expensive car, and twenty dogs. Real boyfriend material, huh?" He clenched his teeth, his hands trembling with the overwhelming jealousy.

You peered up at him, your eyes soft. "I would never hurt you like that."

"Exactly!" He gently held your shoulders, hopeful that you finally understood you absurd your worries were. "Neither would I! Ever."

"You broke up with me once, why would you not do it again?!" You shoved his hands off of you. Despair clawed at your heart, poisoned your insides with its foul venom, constricting your lungs, wetting your eyes.

Your words and crestfallen features subsided his fury, like a powerful breeze extinguishing a flickering candle, a gleam of sunlight reaching out through heavy sullen clouds, clearing his sight. His face fell, his fingers twitching, aching to touch you. "Y/N..."

You cracked, lost control, lashed out all your anguish on the food you cut. "You left me for Gwen! After three years!" Your cutting sped up, loud and quick clanks echoing across the room. "You said you loved me! A-and I believed you!" You sobbed, yet no tears would spill; only built up rage as you snagged a second tomato and stabbed it harder, the blade dangerously close to your finger.

"You're gonna hurt yourself." Peter warned, watching as you ignored him and only went faster, harder, your hand beginning to cramp up.

"But then you didn't love me, you loved her, and everything you said became complete bullshit and just lies! All those stupid promises and your fucking vows," You couldn't see anymore, your vision too blurry, but you didn't slow down. "What was I supposed to do other than just be happy for you? Because I had to be a good friend, and I just wanted you to be happy—"

"Y/N—"

You felt the knife close to your finger. "And what if it happens again? Mary Jane is perfect, you two were perfect; maybe one day you'll regret you chose me at the end—" Peter's hand shot out and captured the knife. You closed your mouth and blinked your tears away, your eyes then growing wide, for the blade hung right above your finger.

He moved it to the side and away from your resting hand, his grasp shaky. "I told you you were gonna hurt yourself." He breathed out.

The radio remained barely audible before, almost as if its presence were missing, but as silence overtook the room— heavy, asphyxiating, weighing down on both of you, crushing you with no mercy— it made your skull pulse. You laid the cutting tool back down, your gaze fixed ahead of you.

"My boss laid me off today." You saw through your peripheral vision how his head jerked up. "That's why I got back home early. And why I got the speeding ticket." You revealed, ashamed. Peter gulped, trying to dive to the surface, float in the flooded wreckage you two were trapped in.

"I'm sorry."

"What do you mean? It's not your fault." You looked at him, but it was quick. "And it's not my fault, either. I guess the trip will have to wait longer than we expected." You sadly joked.

He didn't say anything. He simply approached you, slowly and quiet, and soon his arms were around you. You grew weak to his embrace and squeezed him, inhaling deeply, holding back the tears once again that day— you didn't even know, really, you'd lost count. 

The universe wouldn't hand you the quietude you had craved so easily, though, because without warning, Peter began to usher you far from the stove. "Wait, wha—" A bang cut you off and you yelped while Peter unconsciously pulled you closer to him. You heard clinking, a shattering sound as something rained over the floor. You both slowly glanced back, still hugging each other.

"What the hell?" You gasped when you saw the large crack running up the stove top, various small ones branching out from it, and glass littering almost all of your kitchen. Peter's body shook and you stared up at his nervous grin.

"I told you we had the change the stove."

You two began to laugh— not a normal response to your stove exploding, indeed; perhaps it was an odd way to cope with the pain, but Peter ran his fingers through his hair as he chuckled.

"I should've listened." You smiled at him, and your mind turned to mush when he returned the expression.

"Good evening, everyone— I'm sorry to interrupt, I know that tonight is 'only music' night." The music ended and a dopey voice spoke instead; a guy who'd most definitely hit a few too many blunts.

"What kind of station did you chose?" You asked your boyfriend, your face scrunched up. He shrugged, just as clueless as you were.

"I don't know, it was on when I switched on the radio." However, your ears perked up when the man carried on.

"Just in case you haven't watched the news yet, I wanted to tell you to please stay away from Times Square. There's some crazy stuff going on there, man, it's nuts, and the police are arriving on the scene. But..." Peter looked at you, his eyes sad with guilt. Realization hit you like a truck, your heart almost stopping.

It was the final straw.

"No... no, please, Pete." You started to breathe heavily, your lower lip trembling. He held your hands, kissing your knuckles apologetically.

"I'm so sorry." The tears flowed free, and it broke him further.

"Everything's been going wrong today, p-please, I don't want anything bad happening to you." You begged. But he was already leaving the kitchen, and you yelled out a frustrated curse. You ran to the living room, searching for the remote control, then fell to your knees as you saw it under the coffee table, instantly snatching it. You desperately wiggled the remote when it didn't work, but moments later the TV lit up, and you jumped from channel to channel, seeking for the news. You raised your hand up to your mouth, your shoulders shuddering from the horrific footage— the hopelessness, the explosions, the fire. You heard the first siren outside.

You felt a tender hand on your shoulder, the indication of what you feared the most, of the dreaded goodbye lurking in all your nightmares. You were fully submerged into the screen, enough that you hadn't noticed Peter standing behind you. "This was not the night I planned." He said, staring down at the ground. " We were gonna have a nice dinner, maybe even dance like you enjoy to do sometimes, and then... I don't know, but I'm sorry. You deserved it." He confessed, sorrowful and sincere.

You placed your hand on his hard chest, over the spider emblem of his suit. You didn't waste any time and kissed him, a passion different from earlier; different from the arousal, the heat at the pit of your stomach, the goosebumps spreading all over your skin. Now it was just as forceful, just as needy, but it tasted like innocent affection, like a refuge for a terrified child from a spine-chilling thunderstorm, the assurance that the downpour would pass. You cherished every second, the way he clung onto your waist with as much urgency, his breathing as he ended what he hoped was just another kiss and not the last one. It tore you down to nothingness, but it's what you signed up for the moment you fell in love with him, and you truly did not regret it. Never.

Your foreheads rested against each other, your hands trailing up to his shoulders. "Happy two year anniversary." He grinned. You pecked him one last time.

"Happy two year anniversary."

It was the usual routine: he went to the window, putting his mask over his head, not bothering to brush away his hair, and he looked back at you. Stay, you both thought as you followed him. You held yourself back, though, for you knew that if you asked him to, he would. You tugged his mask down, covering his face. "Go save some civilians, Spider-Boy. I love you." His white eyes were wide, taking you in wholly.

"I love you, too."

You undid the button of Peter's suit jacket for the twentieth time in a row, the action a momentary consolation as your eyes lingered on the flat screen; however, your mind drifted away somewhere in the vastness of space, distant from the images and your solitary apartment, revolving around a certain man you couldn't help but worry about. The broadcast should've been enough to relieve your fidgeting and the iciness that ran through your veins, because just like always, the superhero had saved the day, but you wouldn't ease into satisfaction until you had Peter in your arms— safe and sound, alive. That comfort arrived in the form of the window sliding open, and you jumped off your seat, wrapping your arms around your torso, watching as the red and blue figure slipped inside. He closed the window, holding his side, and he removed his mask with a swift motion, strands of hair sticking up while others fell graciously. You repressed the shocked gasp at his appearance; his bleeding and swollen lip, the cut running up his forehead, his nose which now looked just like yours if not a bit worse, and the forming bruise on his cheek.

You ran up to him and hugged him tightly. As gentle as you tried to be, it still hurt, but he didn't voice his pain. "I'm proud of you. You did great." You kissed his shoulder. He mumbled a 'yay!' and you let out a weak laugh, carefully pulling his arm. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

He tugged you back into him, his eyes droopy with exhaustion. "No."

Your eyebrows rose, confusion overtaking your face. "What?"

"Our date is not over yet."

You sucked in a breath, ignoring his ridiculous statement— he'd definitely received a rough blow to his head. "Peter, it's late, you need some rest—"

"Just, please." He urged. "Trust me." He bore his eyes burning with need into yours, frowning.

It was unbelievable, how Peter B. Parker could ask you to dress up as a hot dog and breakdance in the middle of the street and you'd comply, simply because it's what he wanted. You're weak, you told yourself, your hand in Peter's as you strolled down the pathway of the park; although you did force him to sit down and let you patch him up earlier, for only the man thought there was nothing wrong with leaving the house looking like you just came back from the fight club— ‘it's gonna heal soon’, he would whine as the roles reversed and you smoothed the gauze over his nose. He limped slightly while he picked a flower from a bush, another one for the growing collection in his fist, and you groaned loudly.

"Parker, seriously, I wouldn't have minded if we'd stayed back at home. Our anniversary doesn't need to be perfect." You said, expecting it'd knock some sense into him. He remained stubborn, though, inspecting the plants he held.

"Oh man, you said 'Parker', you must be serious." He wore a crooked smile and you narrowed your eyes at him. "Look, the day was far from perfect, so at least I want it to end well."

"I mean, this place is really nice." You acknowledged as you both stopped to admire a cherry blossom tree. Peter glanced sideways at you, his mouth twitching.

"Do you remember when we planned our wedding?"

You looked back at him and you both cringed, laughing after. "Ah, we did that, didn't we?" You crinkled your nose, recalling the night you and Peter lied on your twin bed; surrounded by heavy textbooks and colorful notes with illegible writing, in a haze from all the studying that you two started to make big, naive plans for a distant future, your head on his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair.  

"It was cute at the moment, but now that I think back, it was really stupid." He laughed. You swiped away the fallen flowers of the tree with your foot, nostalgia showering over you.

"Yeah... I wonder what sixteen-year-old me would think about thirty-eight-year-old me. Probably would be disappointed. At least she'd be happy I'm with you, though." You admitted softly, your skin prickling. "That's something her and I have in common."

Peter flashed you a half-smile. "Really?"

"Yeah," You grinned back, your eyes darting down to the petals he plucked. "Hey, don't kill it! What did it ever do to you?"

"It looked at me the wrong way." He smiled, shrugging. "I'm just nervous, that's it."

"What, you playing 'does she love me, does she love me not'?" You fluttered your eyelashes, the back of your hand on your forehead. He bit his lip, snickering, but then went poker-faced.

"It's a really serious game, Y/N." Your body lit up with laughter and he moved to face you, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he stared at you. "I want you to know that everything I said back then wasn't a lie. I meant every 'I love you' and promise I made."

You shoved your hands inside the pockets of his suit jacket (you probably should have changed, you realized), shifting your weight from one foot to another. "Pete, I know." You took out one hand to squeeze his bicep. "Forget everything I said earlier, alright? The jealousy just got to me and I said some dumb shit."

He shook his head, his fingers curling around your wrist. "No, but... I really did. And I've been thinking lately th-that maybe things with MJ didn't just work out because I was scared to have kids. I love you, Y/N. It's always been that way."

"Peter..." You rubbed his knuckles with your thumb, your heart glowing. "I love you, too."

"I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner."

You lifted a brow, puzzled. "Do what?" Your confusion dissolved when he dug his hand into his pocket, the color draining out of your face as he revealed a blue velvet box. You took a step back in disbelief, your hand cupping your cheek. "Parker, I swear to God."

"I'm sorry you had to wait so long for this moment." His voice wavered with nerves, the confirmation that this wasn't a sick prank he was pulling— not that he ever would hurt you in such way, anyway, but it was impossible not to feel lightheaded from the shock of witnessing a daydream you'd imagined for so long unfolding right in front of you, to not tremble as you waited for everything to slowly fade away as you woke up from another dream. His touch felt so real, though, so genuine, far from a fabricated illusion created just to satisfy a lurking desolation. "I wish I had known back then— God, I really do. But maybe I did kinda know, because after we discussed the whole dream wedding thing, I proposed to you." He recalled.

You sniffed, smiling. "You said it was practice for when we did get married."

He nodded, scratching the back of his neck. "It was not romantic at all." You both giggled, the ring he'd made out of a ripped piece of paper present in your memories.

You scanned your own outfit, wishing you'd looked much nicer for the occasion. "I look terrible right now."

"And so do I, but I don't care, because my heart still does that thing when it's the afternoon and you haven't showered yet."

"You're ridiculous."

"I know."

A deep rumble in the sky shook the ground beneath your feet and Peter looked up, letting out an exasperated sigh when droplets of rain pattered down on you. "Yeah, way to ruin the moment, weather. Thanks."

You lifted your hand to cover your face from the light drizzle, miniature beads of water on your eyelashes. "You know we can't afford a wedding right now, right?" You asked him, the corner of your lips tugged upwards.

His cheeks expanded as he let out air through his pressed lips. "I know. We gotta get that new stove."

"Our bed broke."

"Speeding ticket."

"I lost my job."

"You need a new nose." He tapped his own nose, which was a bad idea after he twisted his face in discomfort.

"It's not broken!" You insisted with a gesture of your hand, the corner of your eyes crinkled as you laughed. The rain poured down harder, quickly drenching yours and Peter's hair along with your clothes. Nothing was stopping him anymore, though, and he got down on one knee, audibly still aching from his bruises. Your laughter persisted, but now you hiccuped as well, your eyes red.

"We're not at a beach in Hawaii, but I tried to get the petals at least." When you inspected the ground— purple and red petals messily surrounding you, shriveled from the water— you comprehended the reason for his flower killing spree. You gripped his cold hand, the downpour emitting a shudder from you.

"It really doesn't matter."

"Good, good." He breathed out, more like a reassurance for himself, his own breathing speeding up for he could sense the tears coming as well. "Y/N. I loved you back then. I love you right now... and I'll love you for the rest of my years. It's not an exaggeration, it's the truth. I promise I'm not going anywhere. Not again. So..." He opened the box, and you stared in awe at the golden circlet with the pretty silver diamond.

"Will you marry me?"

You couldn't utter a single word, your throat closed up as you instead nodded fervently. You both beamed at each other, your smiles easily capable of moving worlds and galaxies as he slid the engagement ring onto your finger, his own hands trembling. You didn't give him a chance to stand up— you got down to his level and crashed your lips into his, your mouths slippery from the rain, your appearances far from alluring with his hair clinging to his skin and your mascara trailing down your cheeks. But it was alright. For the first time that day, everything was alright.

[peaches-of-1]

RENT AU

This is queued for Dec 24th 9PM EST. You’re welcome. The cast is as follows.

Mark: Hui

Roger: E’Dawn

Mimi: Hyuna

Tom Collins: Namjoon

Angel: Key*

Joanne: Maman

Maureen: Hwasa

Benny: CubeEnt- Park Choongmin

A/N: In the show, the character Angel is referenced to with mostly female pronouns. To keep with the pronouns of both Angel and Key I will use he/him as well as she/her to reference the part.

The full moon was high in the sky. It had been so cold this winter that the power had been going out often from being frozen and all sorts of water damage. It was hell especially for Hui and E’Dawn who technically weren’t even supposed to be living where they were living. Outside, a small tent city had sprung up in the lot next to the old publishing factory. It was freezing even with the tin trash can filled with found logs and discarded planks or their “illegal wood burning stove” as Dawnie liked to call it. Things were fine, their good friend Choongmin had told them it was fine to live there without rent since they were so close. Then again, E’Dawn was his stage name. He hadn’t been using it a lot recently because he wasn’t really on stage that often.

Hui had gotten into video making and used his phone as well as an old video camera to capture the footage he needed. He turned the camera to himself.

“Um, December 24th, 9pm. Korean Standard Time, from here on in, I shoot without a script. See if anything comes of it instead of my old shit.”

Since all his scripted stuff hadn’t gone over well with several dozen failed videos that were taking down due to copyright infringement when everything was from his own mind. It just so happened to be eerily similar to some script a kid wrote when they were in elementary school. Hui had never read it, but whatever. He turned the camera to his roomie and best friend E’Dawn who commonly went by Hyojong.

“First shot, Hyojong, tuning the Fender guitar he hasn’t played in a year.”

“It won’t tune” The blonde and brown rooted babe said.

In return, Hui teased, “So we hear. He’s just coming back after half a year of withdrawal.”

“You talking to me?” He began to look up with his death stare.

His silver haired friend turned his phone to a different direction, “Not at all…” He turned it back to his friend, trying to get a close up. “Are you ready?” He asked to Hyojong who didn’t answer because he knew his friend was like this.

He held the focus steady and got a good shot of his downturned head, “Tell the folks at home what you’re doing, Hyojong.”

“I’m writing one great song--”

The phone rang. The old camera was recording from its table without anyone’s knowledge, but Hui paused his phone. “SPEAK” it was the sound of their answering machine. Someone was calling? Who the heck could it be?

It was Hui’s mother. She wanted to tell her son how much she loved them. From the background, he heard screams and giggles and someone else call her mom. She then said that his step sister and her kids sent their love. His mother then went on to remind him not to leave the hot plate she sent him on whenever they left the house. Then came the final blow.

“Oh, and Hwitaek, we’re sorry to hear that Hwasa dumped you. I say c’est la vie, so let her be a lesbian! There are plenty of other fish in the sea. Love you, mom~!”

Hyojong pat his buddy on the back at the mention of the past relationship. Hui rolled his eyes and waited for his mom to hang up before starting where he left off. As soon as the blonde began to speak once more, the phone rang again.

“SPEAK!”

A lovely deep voice came from the receiver, “Chestnuts roasting~”

Excitedly, Hui rushed the phone, “Namjoon!

“I’m downstairs!” The man in a snow white beanie said to whoever was listening.

He picked it up, “Hey!”

“E’Dawn-hyung picked up the phone?”

“Nah, it’s me.”

Namjoon nodded, “Throw me the key.”

His older friend smiled at the thought of seeing his friend again and threw the key out the window knowing his friend would catch it, “A wild night is now preordained.”

Hyojong continued trying to tune his guitar in the background. Namjoon smiled but soon his face turned to fear as he saw some of the neighborhood thugs start to approach him.

“I may be detained.” He hung up quickly.

“What does that mean, detained?” The phone rang again, and Hui put the phone to where both him and his roomie could hear. Thinking it was their friend again he asked, “What’d you mean, detained?”

Instead a snarky, “Ho ho ho.” came through the phone.

“Choongmin!” They were excited until Hui put the phone to his chest and then they revealed the truth by saying. “Shit!”

They didn’t like Choongmin, or Minnie as they called him despite the man being a few years older than the both of them.

“Dudes, I’m on my way!” He sounded like he was in his car...a sparkling white Range Rover nonetheless. He had taken a vacation recently.

“Great!” They looked each other in the eyes. “Fuck.”

“I need the rent.” Minnie switched his phone to the other side.

They were confused and asked what rent he could possibly be talking about. He said it was the past year’s rent which he “let slide.” Hui called him out on his bullshit saying that it wasn’t that he let it slide, he said that they didn’t have to. Hyojong reminded him it was when he bought the building. Hui reminded him that they were roommates even though he now treated the two of them like dirt.

“Remember, you lived here?” E’Dawn asked.

Choongmin chuckled, “How could I forget? You, me, Dawnie, and Hwasa.” Then he asked about the soulful diva.

Hui mentioned her show tonight and Minnie said he already knew. He asked if the glasses wearing boy was still her so called production manager. He was...until two days ago. When asked if they were still together, it was revealed that they had been broken up for over a month now. Hyojong pulled the phone over to say that Hwasa was now in love with someone else. Their hyung was surprised to hear that she was already dating someone new and asked the man’s name.

It wasn’t a man’s name per say, it was Maman. A woman.

Another chuckle, “Rent, my friends, is due, or I’ll have to evict you. See you soon.” He said as his black haired lover showed up in the bedroom of her husband in blue lingerie. He hung up.

Hyojung began to play again as his friend hung up. Hui began recording once more. Suddenly the Fender stopped working. Of course. The power blows just as he’s getting to record again. It’s too dark right now, and people from the whole block would be looking for some place to stay or something to steal for a bit of cash. Attention turned from making the next groundbreaking documentary to securing what few important things they had before they were taken.

“How do you document real life when real life’s getting more like fiction each day?” the silver haired man asked. “Headlines, breadlines, and now this deadline. ‘Eviction or pay’?”

E’Dawn decided to jump in and complain about how he no longer had any inspiration for his writing, “How can you write a song when the notes sound wrong though they once sounded right and rare? When the notes are sour where is the power you once had to ignite the air?”

They were hungry and frozen and this was the life they had chosen. Some life, huh? But they had no jobs. No source of income. How were they supposed to pay a whole year of rent to their backstabbing buddy? Hui decided to light candles. Hyojong decided to look something that could be put into their “woodburning stove” when there was no wood in sight. Not much was in sight, but they knew their apartment inside and out. There had to be something. A chill ran down the songwriter’s spine.

“How can you generate heat when you can’t feel your feet and they’re turning blue?”

Hyojong found his old flyers, “You light up a mean blaze with posters!”

“And screenplays!” Hui added his own failed works to the trash bin which his friend flicked a match into.

The two boys couldn’t even afford a lighter. How were they supposed to afford that rent?

Maman was at the lot where her girlfriend would be performing trying to figure out how to get the microphone to work. Especially the reverb at a certain volume. It shocked her and she jumped back. Out of frustration, the light brown haired woman stood up and called her lovely...though sometimes unfaithful girlfriend Hwasa.

“Hey, darling. Did you eat?”

She instantly tried to change the subject. It was obvious that she hadn’t.

“But, darling, you haven’t eaten all day.”

Hwasa was worried about puking on stage and that was why she didn’t dare eat anything before her performance.

“You won’t throw up~ you won’t throw up!”

She sighed and said that she’d get a some ramyun or something. However, she did then ask how things were doing with the reverb.

Her girlfriend bit her lip nervously, “The digital delay didn’t blow up exactly~ There may have been one teensy, tiny, spark.”

“I’ll just call Hui then. He’s really good with this stuff.”

If there was one things among many other things Maman couldn’t stand was how that every time something digital or technical didn’t work, she’d want to call her ex. He was an ex for a reason. She was Hwasa’s significant other now, not that scarf wearing loser! Though they had never met, Maman’s lovely girlfriend always talked about the scarf she got him before they broke up. Never saying why they ended things in the first place. She had her ideas, though.

“You’re not calling Hui!”

~~~~

With only is coat sleeve left on his right arm, Namjoon wondered how people could survive in a world like this when every day was lived through random chance. Good or bad. Today was his bad luck of the draw since he had been beaten up and left in the cold once the thugs had taken his only coat. He already didn’t own much, and now this? Joon tried to get somewhere for help, but who would even help someone like him?

“Welcome back to town!” was how things should’ve gone. His head spun. “I should lie down. Everything’s brown and uh-oh. I feel sick!” He turned to puke on the nearest surface which happened to be a gutter.

“Where is he?” Hui asked as he threw another script page into the flames, wondering where his friend had gone after the key had been thrown down.

Namjoon was real dizzy and needed to rest. He couldn’t get help if he were dead. Maybe things would be better that way. No, no. He had to kept moving no matter how much his injuries hurt everytime he struggled to take a breath.

~~~~

Dawnie got the last of his flyers and posters from the wall wanting the fire to last as long as possible even though it probably wouldn’t even last the next hour. There was no way they could do anything to pay the rent they supposedly owed to their now holier than thou ex roommate.

On the street, Key hugged Hyuna tightly even kissing her cheek and giving her some of the cash he had just gotten from a job. He was going to his regular spot by the huge Christmas tree in the park to play on his bucket for cash. It was like a drum for him and sometimes even better offers came by. As soon as he left, Hyuna ran into her ex Choongmin and instead of actually talking to him, she darted in the other direction. She didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

He was on the phone with his wife anyways, looking for his car now that he was done playing with one of his many mistresses. He wasn’t sure if that was his ex Hyuna or if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

“Allison, baby, oh you sound sad.” But he ignored her quiet sobs and continued complaining about his own problems. “I can’t believe those two after everything I’ve done. Ever since our wedding, I’m dirt. They’ll see. I can help them all out in the long run.”

~~~~

Hui recorded the flames as more paper was thrown into it. Maman said that she wasn’t a theatre person and would never be a theatre person like her ex had been. That’s just how things were and if she couldn’t except it then--

Instead of listening to her most precious toy gripe about not being what she needed her to be, Hwasa called up Hui to sweetly ask if he’d help her set up her microphone for the show later tonight. Even though he said no the first time, he quickly said yes after she called him his favorite nickname.

“Ok, alright, I’ll go!” He said and hung up. Then Hui started looking for his coat.

There was just so much wrong with the world right now. Their personal situations didn’t help either. They were broke. Nothing they had tried to do prior even worked. Why were they even here? The stress was overwhelming when the raging, shifting winds of change kept ripping away at the fabric that was life.

“What do we do to combat...this?”

“Draw a line in the sand and then make a stand.” Minnie’s voice rang in their heads.

“Use your camera to spar.” Hyojung suggested.

Hui loved that camera too much, so he said, “Use your guitar.”

It felt like the world was screaming at them, “When they act tough, you call their bluff!”

They then decided they weren’t gonna pay that damn rent. They didn’t owe him a damn thing after the way he’d been treating them. They didn’t owe anyone but themselves and there was nothing to owe themselves as far as they saw. Not last year’s rent, not this year’s rent, and sure as hell not last year’s rent. Hell, everything was rent.

On the street once more, a homeless man was singing to himself, “Christmas bells are ringing. Christmas bells are ringing…” He looked around and scoffed. “Not here.” And held out his hand to a passerby who might have some change to spare.

He ignored the achy Namjoon holding his stomach and stifling his moans of agony. In his fuzzy brain, he knew he was trying to get to somewhere familiar after being dragged away and running but not escaping. He just couldn’t remember where exactly. Key was beating his bucket drum though he hadn’t gotten much money tonight. The holiday season was about giving, but not many people thought it applied to them.

It sounded like someone was in pain, so he stopped. Silence except for a few sirens in the distance. Then Key began to play again and saw him...an injured man with a torn beanie holding his stomach or his arm. He didn’t look so good. Then again, no one on these streets rarely did.

Key judged the situation and decided to ask, “Are you ok, honey?”

“I’m afraid so.” He joked weakly.

“They get any money?” He had probably been mugged.

Namjoon scoffed, “Had none to get. But they purloined my coat.” He held up the only remaining piece of it and screamed in the general direction of his attackers. “Well they missed a sleeve!”

Key jumped down from where he was playing with his bucket to get a closer look at the attractive stranger, handing him a rag to dab at his wounds. Namjoon thanked him.

“Hell, it’s Christmas Eve!” He sat down on his bucket while Joon struggled to tie the rag around his injury. “I’m Angel.” Key said, giving his stage name in case he turned out to be wrong about this guy.

“Angel~” Namjoon repeated.

When he looked at the stranger, his eyes grew. Angel was so god damn beautiful. Namjoon had never seen a man so attractive. He looked at him again and smiled.

“Indeed.” He licked his lips and lowered his glasses. “An angel of the first degree. Friends call me Joon, Namjoon.”

The lights of the tree came on since it was now dark enough for them to be seen in their full beauty. It was as if a halo of light surrounded the two men. Angel. Angels were blessing this very meeting between Key and Namjoon. The two looked at the Christmas lights in sync and smiled at the splendor.

Namjoon spoke up, “Nice tree.”

Key smiled and launched into his plan since Namjoon seemed like a good guy, and he obviously needed help.

“Let’s get a Band-Aid for your knee. I’ll change. I’ve got a life support meeting at 9:30.” Catching himself he explained. “Yes this body provides a comfortable home for the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome.”

“As does mine.” Joon admitted.

He was surprised, “We’ll get along fine. Get you a coat, have a bit, make a night.” The chipper man grabbed Namjoon’s and took him along to help with the healing process, maybe get some meds. “I’m flush.”

The younger man was happy to go along with it, but then he remembered he was supposed to meet with Hui and E’Dawn, “My friends are waiting…” He tried to say.

Instead, Key looked at him, “You’re cute when you blush. The more the merry, ho ho ho~” and booped his squat nose. “And I do not take no.”

He continued to pull along a limping Namjoon. Despite the pain he felt all over his body, the injured man smiled at the hope of being treated so well by a complete stranger. The fact that this stranger was so very handsome didn’t add to the pain, either. He’d get to his friends sooner or later.

Hyojong moved an empty bucket under the hole in the ceiling and when he turned around, he saw Hui with his warmest and least torn up jacket in his hands.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

To which Hui replied, “Hwasa calls.”

The musician scoffed, “You’re such a sucker.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to see her show at the lot tonight or come to dinner? “ He held out his friend’s leather jacket.

“Zoom in on my empty wallet.” Hyojong made the movement with his hand and picked up his guitar once more.

“Touche.” The he reminded his friend, “Take your AZT.”

Close on Hyojong, his girlfriend Jieun left a note saying “We’ve got AIDS” before slitting her wrists in the bathroom. He hadn’t been the same since then. Still, he did as told and took the pills that held off his illness for another day.

As he set the leather jacket on the table, Hui said, “Check up on you later. If you change your mind...you have to get out of the house.”

The blonde turned around without replying and began tuning his guitar once more, black painted fingernails picking at the strings. His friend sighed and left the house, sliding the door open and letting it close with a thud that resonated deeply within Hyojong.

“I’m writing one great song before I…” He couldn’t help playing the familiar tune his fingers went to whenever he thought of her. Whenever he tried to play anything else, it just didn’t sound good. He growled in frustration and put his guitar down.

What did he want?

One song. Glory. One song before I go. Glory. One song to leave behind. He wanted to find one song, one last refrain. Glory from the pretty boy front man who wasted opportunity.

He remembered one song that had the world at his feet and caused glory in the eyes of a young girl. A young girl. Everyone was chanting his name, “E’Dawn! E’Dawn! E’Dawn!” but that wasn’t how things were anymore. Now he had to find glory beyond the cheap colored lights one song before the sun sets.

Glory on another empty life.

“Time flies.” He said to himself. “Time dies! Glory!”

One blaze of glory. One blaze of glory. Glory!

“Find glory the song that reigns true. Truth like a blazing fire.” He hovered his fingers above the illegal woodburning stove. “An eternal flame. Find one song...A song about love.”

Glory from the soul of a young man. A young man. He had to find the one song before the virus takes hold. Glory like a sunset. One song to redeem this empty life he had made.

Still, he had it in his head that time flies and then there would be no need to endure anymore. That time dies since time didn’t matter without her.

A knock on the door broke Hyojong out of his memories. It was probably Hui having left something behind.

As he opened the door, the man asked, “What’d you forget?”

Hyojong wasn’t expecting to see a young girl with fire for hair and bright red lips. She had on a white crop top and ripped jeans. There was a army green shawl or something draped on her shoulders as well. He had to blink.

“Got a light?” She asked.

He let her in and looked for his box of matches, “I know you. You’re shiving.”

To which she replied, “It's nothing, they turned off my heat and I'm just a little weak on my feet. Would you light my candle?” She held it out to him and then raised an eyebrow. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing, uh your hair in the moonlight?” He tried to play it off and struck a match to light the white candle she held. “You look familiar.”

She got a bit wobbly while walking to the door, and so he reached out to catch her, letting their eyes lock for just a moment. “Can you make it?”

The girl nodded and sashayed over to the window, “Just haven't eaten much today at least the room stopped spinning, anyway. What?” She caught his gaze once more.

Hyojong quickly looked away, “Nothing...your smile reminded me of--”

“I always remind people of…” The red head rolled her eyes. “Who is she?”

“She died, her name was Jieun.”

Not wanting to talk about it, the girl blew out the candle and held it out to the blonde stranger, “It's out again. Sorry about your friend. Would you light my candle?”

And so he did, this time the light flickered right between their faces making her eyes glow even more than before in their innocent yet mischievously charming way. He wanted to say something but not much came to mind as the mutual gazing continued.

“Well…”

“Yeah?” She tilted her head before pulling one of her hands back. “Ow!”

Getting nervous, Hyojong said, “Oh, the wax, it's--”

“Dripping!” The girl started to slide her legs up the middle of his, slowly as he said, “I like it between my…”

He pulled away, blushing, “Fingers, I figured..Oh, well, goodnight.”

Hyojong realized he had been holding his breath the entire time and finally allowed himself to exhale once the door was closed. However, the door closing had made the light go out once more, and so she knocked on the door.

“It blew out again?” He chuckled, slightly frowning when she came in without even glancing at him.

“No, I think that I dropped my stash.” She searched the ground with her eyes.

So Hyojong let her look as he leaned against the table, trying to recall why he recognized her, “I know I've seen you out and about...When I used to go out.” He pointed. “Your candle's out.”

She sighed at her candlestick and while retracing her steps, “I'm illin', I had it when I walked in the door. It was pure. Is it on the floor?”

The woman got on the ground using her hands and knees to look under the table, and the way her curves filled out the tight jeans she was wearing…

“The floor?” Hyojong repeated as he couldn’t even try to remove his eyes from her form.

She smirked and chuckled, “They say that I have the best ass below 14th Street, is it true?” She said with a little hip wiggle.

“What?”

“You're staring again.” She beamed with another eyebrow raise.

He began to blush and his eyes frantically looked not at her, “Oh no, I mean you do, have a nice--I mean.You look familiar.” Hyojong tried to change the subject back to their previous conversation.

“Like your dead girlfriend?”

“Only when you smile, but I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else.”

That’s when the redhead nodded, “Do you go to the Cat Scratch Club? That's where I work, I dance. Help me look!”

“Yes!” He said, smirking at the memory, “They used to tie you up.”

“It's a living.” She shrugged.

“I didn't recognize you without the handcuffs.” He got in front of her eye line and held his wrists together above his head, letting himself smile a bit.

The strange girl smiled too for a bit and then continued to look, now standing, “We could light the candle. Oh, won't you light the candle?”

Another match was struck to light the used wick, but still Hyojong had to say something knowing another reason why she felt so familiar, “Why don't you forget that stuff? You look like you're sixteen.” “Add ten, still I'm old for my age. I'm just born to be bad!” She did a little dance as she went to another area of the room to see if she could find what she needed.

Hyojong folded his arms, “I once was born to be bad. I used to shiver like that.

She shooed away his concern, “I have no heat, I told you--”

“I used to sweat--”

“I got a cold.”

Not convinced, “Uh huh, I used to be a junkie.”

“But now and then I like to…”

“Uh huh”

“Feel good.”

Seeing the small packet on the floor, Hyojong picked it up, “Oh, here it…”

She whipped her head around, “What's that?”

“It's uh candy bar wrapper.” He hid it in his back pocket.

Playing coy, the woman approached him, “We could light the candle…” which he playfully blew out. “Oh, what'd you do with my candle?”

She began to chase him, lunging for his pocket, but Hyojong moved out of the way before she could catch him.

“That was my last match.” He said, leaning against the metal table.

“Our eyes'll adjust. Thank God for the moon” She did the same.

“Maybe it's not the moon at all. I hear Spike Lee's shooting down the street.”

She pouted and scooted her hand towards his, “Bah humbug, bah humbug~”

“Cold hands…” but he didn’t pull away.

“Yours too.” She tucked a fiery strand behind her ear and turned his palm upwards, “Big, like my father's.” Then she twirled, letting her shawl flutter around her. “Do you wanna dance?”

“With you?”

“No, with abeoji.” She teased.

“I’m Hyojong-ie.”

Her leaning forward made him lean back and he didn’t notice where her hands were going, “And the name of your noona is...Hyuna~”

She pulled her hand back revealing the small back of drugs was back in her possession and left the room before he could get it back. She giggled and winked at him before she dashed down the steps. He sighed, letting her go.

Yeah. It was better to just let her go.

Somewhere a phone waited unanswered and so the callers got the answering machine instead which rambled, “Hi you’ve reached Hwasa and Maman, leave a message. Don’t forget OVER THE MOON, my performance protesting the eviction of the homeless and artist from the 11th street lot tonight. The lot between A and B. Party at Life Cafe to follow!”

It was Maman’s parents.

“Well, Maman, we’re off. I tried you at the office and they said you were ‘stage managing’ or something.”

His wife searched her purse in the background, but her voice could still be heard on the recording, “Remind her that those unwed mothers in Harlem need her legal help too.”

He nodded, “Call Daisy for our itinerary or Alfred at Pound Ridge or Eileen at the state department in a pinch. We'll be at the spa for new year's unless the senator changes his mind.”

“The hearings.”

“Oh yes, Kitten. Eomma's confirmation hearing begins on the tenth. We'll need you--alone--by the sixth.”

She scolded her husband for adding such unnecessary info, “Yeobo!”

He cracked a smile, “You hear that? It's three weeks away and she's already nervous.”

“I am not!”

“For Eomma's sake, Kitten no Doc Martens this time and wear a dress. Oh, and Kitten, have a merry…”

“And a bra!!” Since she didn’t tend to wear one as she favored a more butch fashion style personally.

It turned out that Hui did forget something (his charger) and ended up returning to his apartment to get it. However, when there was a knock on the door, he forgot what he was meant to do since only one man could knock that way.

It was Namjoon, finally!

Hui even joked as he set up the camera for a good angle, “Enter, Kim Namjoon: computer genius, teacher, vagabond anarchist who ran naked through the Parthanon.”

The beanie wearing genius tossed groceries to the nearest person who tossed it to the next who tossed it in the makeshift kitchen. Bustelo, some kimchi, banana by the bunch. A box of Captain Crunch will taste so good!

“And firewood!” Namjoon held up a thick ass log.

Hui was glad to see his friend again, “Look, it's Santa Claus!”

He paused and nudged E’Dawn, “Hold your applause.”

“Oh, hi.” The blonde replied.

“Tsk ‘Oh, hi’ after seven months?”

He chuckled, “Sorry.”

Namjoon grabbed the unmistakable bottle out of his bag, “This boy could use some Jinro.”

The two cheery boys wrapped their arms around Hyojong and sang, “Oh holy night!”

E’Dawn moved away from them, “You struck gold at MIT?”

He shook his head, “They expelled me for my theory of Actual Reality which I'll soon impart to the couch potatoes at New York University.” then be pat his mopey friend on the back. “Still haven't left the house?”

“I was waiting for you, don't you know?” He replied.

“Well, tonight's the night! Come to the Life Cafe after Maureen's show!” He responded happily.

“No flow.” Meaning Hyojong was broke.

Namjoon then went to the door and put his hand on the knob, “Gentlemen, our benefactor on this Christmas Eve whose integrity is only matched by talent, I believe. A new member of the Alphabet City avant-garde Kim Kibum, jagi~” He opened the door.

The two other men looked at each other since it had been forever since he used that term for anyone. What was even more unexpected was to see a firm but slim body in a bright red Christmas dress with white fur trim, zebra print leggings, and Mary Janes. Her hair was in two curled ponytails with white pom-poms on the bands.

She(?) twirled in and it was as if a harp was playing as she did so. Then she displayed two thick piles of cash, one to each of the boys.

“Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.” Her(?) glittering red lips formed.

The men grabbed it and then stared at her in awe. “Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.”

Namjoon added, “And you should hear her beat.”

“You earned this on the street?” Hui thought Namjoon had fallen for a prostitute with two drum sticks tucked in her zebra printed belt.

She shook her head, “It was my lucky day today on Avenue A when a lady in a limousine drove my way. She said: ‘Darling be a dear. Haven’t slept in a year. I need your help to make my neighbor's yappy dog disappear.’”  This Akita, Evita, just won't shut up. He criss-crossed over to the bucket that all the groceries had been carried in and began to bang rhythmically on it. “I believe if you play nonstop that pup will breathe its very last high strung breath. I'm certain that cur will bark itself to death."

Then she repeated her cute little phrase, “Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me. Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.” and then continued her story. “We agreed on a fee A $1000 guarantee tax free, and a bonus if I trim her tree. Now who could foretell that it would go so well, but sure as I am here that dog is now in doggy hell.”

She climbed up on the latter near the door, “After an hour, Evita in all her glory--On the window ledge of that 23rd story.” She used her drum sticks to count upwards. “Like Thelma and Louise did when they got the blues, wwan dove into the courtyard of the Gracie Mews.”

“Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.” The girl leaped off in heels to be closer to the boys who were beating out a rhythm on their own random pieces of furniture. “Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.”

The beautiful girl broke into a drum solo on the table and the walls and even the chairs, sounding very good and skilled, not even breaking a sweat or messing up as she moved from surface from surface frolicking and bringing up the mood. Even twirling and jumping on the table without missing a beat.

“Back on the street where I met my sweet,” He caressed Namjoon’s hat and moved down to his face to grab his chin. “Where he was moaning and groaning on the cold concrete. The nurse took him home for some Madecassol, and I dressed his wounds and got him back on his feet! Sing it!”

The other joined in, feeling amused at themselves for quite enjoying this tale of their friend’s new lover about killing a dog.

“Today 4 U. Tomorrow 4 me. Today 4 U. Tomorrow 4 me. I said Today 4 U. Tomorrow 4 me.”

Then she sat on a spinning office chair and motioned for one of them to give her a spin, which Hyojong ended up doing.

“Today 4 U. Tomorroooooow 4 me!” She landed with her black heels firmly on the ground and struck a pose.

Then Key hugged Namjoon and the boys laughed having a grand old time until a familiar voice sang out, “Joy to the world…” before looking out the window and yelling. “Hey you bum! Yeah, you, move over! Get your ass off that Range Rover!”

Everyone rolled their eyes at Park Choongmin who took off his glasses and tucked them in his pocket.

Hui spoke up, “That attitude toward the homeless is just what Hwasa is protesting tonight.” He turned his camera on himself. “Close up: Park Choongmin the third. Our ex-roommate who married Alison Grey, of the Westport Greys. Then bought the building and the lot next door from his father-in-law, in hopes of starting a cyber-studio.”

“Hwasa is protesting losing her performance space not my attitude.” He posed and grinned once he saw the camera on him. Namjoon covered the lense, not wanting anything positive about him to be recorded.

E’Dawn spoke, “What happened to Choog-ie? What happened to his heart and the ideals he once pursued?”

“Any owner of that lot next door has a right to do with it as he pleases.” He shot back.

To which Namjoon replied by raising the soju bottle, “Happy birthday, Jesus!” While trying to remind the greedy man of his conscience.

“The rent.” He held out his hand.

“You're wasting your time.” Hui said.

“We're broke.” Hyojong added.

“And you broke your word. This is absurd!”

Choogmin tried to sweet talk them, “There is one way you won't have to pay~”

“I knew it!” The blonde scoffed.

Looking out the side window, the businessman let his imagination run wild, “Next door, the home of Cyberarts, you see and now that the block is re-zoned, our dream can become a reality! You'll see boys. You'll see boys~!” He saw it wasn’t working, so he tried explaining his vision a different way.

“A state of the art, digital, virtual interactive studio. I'll forego your rent and on paper guarantee that you can stay here for free...if you do me one small favor.”

Hui asked with a straight face, “What?”

“Convince Maureen to cancel her protest.” He batted his reptilian eyes.

“Why not just get an injunction or call the cops?”

The snake replied, “I did, and they're on stand by. But my investors would rather I handle this quietly.”

Hyojong scoffed, “You can't quietly wipe out an entire tent city then watch It's a Wonderful Life on TV!”

“You want to produce films and write songs?” He spoke to their passions. “You need somewhere to do it! It's what we used to dream about. Think twice before you pooh-pooh it. You'll see boys. You'll see boys…?” He lifted Key’s skirt to see if the audience was actually all men.

Rude and uncalled for, and Namjoon put Key behind him and glared at Park Choongmin who backed up and sat on the table.

His hands arched in the sky, “You'll see the beauty of a studio that lets us do our work and get paid. With condos on the top. Whose rent keeps open our shop. Just stop the protest and you'll have it made. You'll see…” He put his sunglasses back on. “Or you'll pack.”

He escaped before he could get any more backlash.

Key scoffed, “That boy could use some prozac.”

“Or heavy drugs.” E’Dawn suggested.

“Or group hugs.” Hui said, getting confused and amused stares in return. “Which reminds me…” Namjoon said, scoffing. “We have a detour to make tonight. Anyone who wants to can come along.” He said pointedly to Hyojong.

Key replied, “Life support's a group for people coping with life. You don't have to stay too long.”

Hui threw his jacket back on, “First I've got a protest to save.”

“Roger?” She asked.

He shook his head, “I'm not much company you'll find.”

“Behave!” Hui lightly scolded his pessimism.

“He'll catch up later. He's just go other things on his mind.” Key said. “You'll see, boys!”

Hui and Namjoon chuckled but agreed at this turn around of phrase, “We'll see, boys.”

Hyojong scoffed, “Let it be, boys!”

Namjoon smiled at Key, “I like boys.”

And Key smiled back, “Boys like me.”

Silently they just decided to go along their lives while they waited for Hyojong to come around sooner or later. They’d see.

~~~~

So, now we follow Hui as he went to go help Hwasa fix her microphone or something or other as he did when they were dating. Even when they weren’t dating, until she fired him as her production manager. Anyways, Hui would always be there for Hwasa one way or another since he still had a soft spot for her.

Using his phone, he filmed himself, “And so into the abyss, the lot where a small stage is partially set up.”

“Line in…” a voice mumbled from inside. “I went to Harvard for this?”

“Close on Hui’s nosedive.” He walked inside and took a moment to pause.

“Line out…?”

The man asked himself, “Will he get out of here alive?”

Then the honey blonde woman gawked as she saw the only man that would show up here, “Hui?”

Even he stopped to take in the situation, “Hi.” He gave a bow.

“I told her not to call you!”

Hui shrugged, “That's Hwasa, but can I help since I'm here?”

He approached the box surrounded by wires of all sorts. Maman quickly walked in front of it, her red scarf flying momentarily as she moved quickly to stop him.

Then she acted casually, “I've hired an engineer…”

“Great!” He replied with a tense smile. “Well then, nice to have…” he started to turn around.

“Wait!” Maman said, swallowing her pride. “She's 3 hours late!”

Hui joined her at the box while she explained, “The samples won’t delay but the cable--”

He nodded, “There’s another way. Say something, anything.” He motioned to the microphone.

Maman said the typical theatre thing she thought of, “Test, 1, 2, 3.”

The film nerd rolled his eyes, “Anything but that.”

She sighed, “This is weird.”

“It’s weird.” He agreed.

“Very weird.”

“Fucking weird.” He said with a head tilt.

“I’m so mad that I don’t know what to do. Fighting with microphones, freezing down to my bones, and to top it all off I’m with you.”

This was very familiar to Hui, “Feel like going insane, got a fire in your brain, and you’re thinking of drinking gasoline?”

Maman couldn’t help but nod, “As a matter of fact--”

“Honey, I know this act. It’s called the Tango: Maureen.” He did a tango pose. “The Tango: Maureen. It’s a dark, dizzy, merry go round. As she keeps you dangling…”

“You’re wrong!”

“Your heart she is mangliiiing.”

“It’s different with me!”

“And you toss and you turn cause her cold eyes can burn, yet you yearn and you churn and rebound.”

The long haired blonde paused at how deja vu this all sounded, “I think I know what you mean…”

Together, they said, “The Tango: Maureen~.”

Not so much focused on the tech, Hui asked, “Has she ever pouted her lips and called you ‘Aein?’”

Proudly, Maman crossed her arms, “Never.”

“Have you ever doubted a kiss or two?”

She bit her lip, “This is spooky.” Then she took her chance to ask her own questions. “Did you swoon when she walked through the door?”

“Every time, so be....cautious.”

“Did she moon over other boys?.”

Looking directly into her eyes, “More than moon.”

She held her stomach, “I’m getting nauseous.”

Hui stood in the middle of the stage and held out his hand. He cleared his throat and motioned her over. Maman looked behind herself. Surely, he wasn’t asking her? But he was. So she looked him up and down and unbuttoned her jacket and took off her scarf to have less hindrance. Then she took her hand. The two began to tango on the stage as naturally as if they had been dancing together for years.

This took Hui by surprise, so he asked, “Where’d you learn to tango?”

“With the French ambassador's daughter in her dorm room at Ms. Porters and you?”

They paused, “With Moon Dahye, the president’s daughter at the Korean Sundance Film afterparty.”

Giving a cocky smirk, Maman began to take the lead flawlessly while Hui had some trouble following. As a man, he never had to do it before.

“It’s hard to do this backwards.” he admitted.

To which Maman dipped and said, “You should try it in heels.” which she never really wore nowadays. She then dropped him while realizing how absurd this whole things was and finally admitted to herself. “She cheated.”

“She cheated!” He said in a sure tone as he stood up.

“Maureen cheated.”

“Fucking cheated.”

“I’m defeated, I should give up right now,” She said, pulling her hair out of its too tight bun.

Hui tried to cheer her up, “Gotta look on the bright side with all of your might.”

“I’d fall for her still anyhow,” She conceded.

With a playful wiggle of his hip (which got a laugh in return) the two began to tango together once more. They realized when you’re dancing her dance, you don’t stand a chance. Her grip of romance makes you fall.

“So you think might as well--”

“Dance a tango to hell.” She finished.

At least they’ll have tangoed at all. They did the Tango: Maureen where you gotta dance ‘til your diva is through. They had pretended to believe her ‘cause in the end they couldn’t leave her. But the end it will come, still they had to play dumb ‘til they're glum and they bum and turn blue.

Out loud, Hui asked, “Why do we love when she’s mean?” as he returned to the box.

“And she can be so obscene!” She said, lifting her boobs and squishing them together in her dress shirt.

“Try the mic.” He said.

Into the microphone, Maman spoke, “My Maureen~” and the “een” part reverberated like it was meant to.

Raising his arm in success, the film nerd smiled, “Patched!”

“Thanks!” Maman said, returning her hair into its bun since her parents would disown her if she ever cut it.

“You know, I feel great now!” He said with a chuckle knowing the Maureen he knew never really changed.

To which Maman pouted, “I feel lousy!”

Then her phone, which was resting on a table, rang. Hui was gonna pick it up to give to her, but instead she stopped him with a, “Nuh-uh-uh.”

He raised his hands in defeat.

After collecting herself, she answered, “Hey, honey, we’re--AEIN?”

Hui started to laugh until he caught the blonde woman’s glare. She put on a smile.

“You’ve never called me aein before!” The man stifled a laugh, and she looked at him once more. “Forget it. We’re patched.” She hung up.

They looked at each other, “The Tango: Maureen.” and sighed.

At the Life Support Meeting, everyone introduced themselves. “Jae”, “Matthew”, “Sunhee”, “Bom”, “Krystal”

“Hi, I’m Key.”

“Namjoon. Kim Namjoon.” He bowed to the leader.

“I'm Jiyong. Let's begin.” They began to speak the affirmation, “There's only us. There's only this …”

And Hui entered, interrupting, “Sorry ... Excuse me ... oops.”

“And you are?” Jiyong asked in a patient voice.

“Oh, I'm not--I'm just here to--I don't have--I'm here with--” He waved to Key and Namjoon who smiled back. “Um--Hui. Hui, I'm Hui.” He looked around. “Well...this is quite an operation. Can I?”

He pointed to the camera, and everyone nodded once they heard it was just a life documentary and not news.

Jiyong smiled softly, “We'll continue the affirmation.”

Everyone picked up where they left off, “Forget, regret or life is yours to miss.”

Matthew spoke up, “Excuse me, hyung. I'm having a problem with this, this credo. My T-cells are low. I regret that news, okay?”

“Alright, but Matthew, how do you feel today?”

He looked around, uncomfortable, “What do you mean?”

“How do you feel today?”

“Okay?” He shrugged.

“Is that all?” the older man pushed forward.

He sighed, “Best I've felt all year.”

“Then why choose fear?”

Matthew chuckled, “I'm a millennial; fear's my life!” He sighed. “Look, I find some of what you teach suspect because I'm used to relying on intellect, but I try to open up to what I don't know. Because reason says I should have died three years ago.”

The last part caused Hui paused as that last sentence sounded like something Hyojong would’ve said. Probably had said before.

Still, they pushed on, “No other road. No other way. No day but today.”

Hui continued recording.

Rock and roll. The absolute shredding of a guitar. Add drums. That’s what made up Hyuna’s soul. She sang and performed to the music in sparkly blue lingerie, with her hair pinned up and ready for action.

“What's the time? Well it's gotta be close to midnight. My body's talking to me, and it says:”

“Time for danger!” Her frequent visitors screamed out loud.

She giggled, “It says ‘I wanna commit a crime’ ‘wanna be the cause of a fight’ ‘Wanna put on a tight skirt and flirt with a stranger.” She leaned in front of a obviously horny man with a dumb smile on his face. Five bucks from five people already.

“I've had a knack from way back at breaking the rules once I learn the games. Get up. Life's too quick. I know someplace sick where this chick'll dance in the flames.” Another $200 with a couple of boob wiggles and more singing. “We don't need any money. I always get in for free. You can get in too if you get in with me.”

She blew a kiss to one side of the room while walking to a rather expensive looking target, “Let's go out tonight. I have to go out tonight!” She let down her hair and slitter fell out of it onto the mans lap before she sat.

A rather tough and stoic man covered in tats stood next to the clients to make sure they didn’t touch while they were looking.

“You wanna play? Let's run away; we won't be back before it's Christmas day.” She was lifted up by some stage dancers to make her body look like a cross. “Take me out tonight…” She leaned closely into and older man’s ear and whispered, “Meow!”

And snatched away a thick stack with a, “Ha!”

Her shift was over, so she walked home to her place in glittery, strappy heels and sung to herself, “When I get a wink from the doorman, do you know how lucky you'll be that you're on line with the feline of Avenue B?”

Hyuna set her bag inside her apartment now in white leggings with bananas on them, knee high yellow boots, and a matching crop top as she continued to party by herself.

“Let's go out tonight. I have to go out tonight. You wanna prowl, be my night owl? Well take my hand we're gonna howl, out tonight!”

Then she got to the fire escape through her window and sat on the edge, “In the evening I've got to roam. Can't sleep in the city of neon and chrome. Feels too damn much like home, when the Korean babies cry. So let's find a bar, so dark we forget who we are,” Hyuna grabbed onto the stairs above and yelled into the night, “Where all the scars from the nevers and maybes die!”

She started to climb when she saw blonde hair walking past the upstairs window, “Let's go out tonight! Have to go out tonight. You're sweet wanna hit the street? Wanna wail at the moon like a cat in heat? Just take me out tonight!” She knocks on the window and is let in by Hyojong.

Hyuna entered saying, “Please take me out tonight~” When he ignored her and went to play his guitar, she took it from him. “Don't forsake me, out tonight!” Then the red head  got up on her knees while she was on the table, “I'll let you make me out tonight!”

She tried everything to get him to say yes. Tonight. Every pose and flirt. Tonight. Hyuna wanted him. Tonight.

The red head was even able to get his hands wrapped around her waist and went in for a kiss before she was rejected and he moved away from her.

“Who do you think you are barging in on me and my guitar? Little girl, hey, the door is that way!”

Quietly Hyuna said, “It’s noona.”

“You better go you know the fire is out anyway. Take your powder. Take your candle. Your sweet whisper I just can't handle. Well take your hair in the moonlight your brown eyes goodbye, goodnight.”

He thought to himself, I should tell you. I should tell you. I should--he felt her creeping up on his shoulders.

“No!” Hyojong couldn’t let himself go through this again. “Another time, another place our temperature would climb. There'd be a long embrace. We'd do another dance; it'd be another play. Looking for romance? Come back another day. Another day!” He leaned on the table facing away from her.

Hyuna wanted to ease his pain and comfort him, “The heart may freeze or it can burn. The pain will ease if I can learn, there is no future. There is no past. I live this moment as my last!” She tried to reason with him by saying the words she had been taught.  “There's only us. There's only this. Forget, regret or life is yours to miss. No other road. No other way. No day but today!”

It got Hyojong to look at her, but he was just to angry at her ruining her own life, “Excuse me if I'm off track, but if you're so wise then tell me why do you need smack! Take your needle, take your fancy prayer. Don’t forget get the moonlight out of your hair!”

She stood and looked at her fiery locks in confusion.

He admitted, “Long ago you might’ve lit up my heart, but the fire’s dead and ain't never ever gonna start!” He paced the room silently wishing for it to be “Another time, another place, the words would only rhyme. We'd be in outer space. It'd be another song we'd sing another way. You wanna prove me wrong? Come back another day. Another day!”

The red headed Hyuna began to leave, but her heart wouldn’t let herself give up on him, “There's only yes, only tonight. We must let go to know what's right. No other course. No other way. No day but today.”

She couldn’t control her destiny while E’Dawn tried to control what he could, such as his temper and yet he was mad that she couldn’t see what she was doing to herself. The road she was going down if she kept doing these poisons.

“I trust my soul!”

“Who says that there's a soul?” He replied.

Hyuna kept going, “My only goal is just to be.”

Hyojong spat back, “Just let me be.”

Still aching for something more, she tried again using the words she was taught, the ones that seemed to resonate with him, “There's only now. There's only here.”

Talking over her, he asked once again to her face, “Who do you think you are, barging in on me and my guitar?”

“Give into love or live in fear.” He pulled away from her embrace as she continued, “No other past, no other way!”

“Little girl, hey, the door is that way!”

They were too caught up in their own emotions that they weren’t listening to the other person. Both were so passionate. Hyuna wanted him to be open and love her as she felt they were meant to be together, but Hyojong couldn’t let himself be open. Not again. Not by someone like her. Who deserved better than him.

“No day but today!” She said.

“The fire’s out anyway.” Though he didn’t really want it to be.

No day but today.

“Take your powder. Take your candle.”

No day but today.

“Take your brown eyes, your pretty smile, your silhouette.” Why wouldn’t she just leave? Did he want her to stay?

No day but today.

“Another time, another place, another rhyme, a warm embrace.”

“No day but today!” Her voice sounded like it was begging now.

He couldn’t waver, “Another dance, another way, another chance, another day!”

No day but today! It wasn’t just her saying it now, but his own mind.

Hyuna tried to kiss him, but he turned away once more. She couldn’t take another rejection...so she left out the front door holding back tears and not knowing that he was trying to do the same. That he was trying to ask you to come back, but Hyojong’s aching heart wouldn’t let him call out to her.

Hyojong picked up his guitar, his safety blanket of sorts. “I’m writing one great song, before I…”

It’s strange when you think about humanity and all the troubles we go through just trying to get by. Some people think they only have themselves while others are frightened to reach out to the people they know they have. Fear is a very real thing. It’s toxic and can still even the surest of movements if it’s let in for just a moment.

Worrying thoughts such as Will I lose my dignity? Tend to stir in one’s mind as they wonder what will happen if they admit something is wrong with them or if they need help. That leads to Will someone care? All in all, people tend to question everything and have no idea what the future holds. That’s impossible to know, but they still ask Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?

And the answer can make or break them.

Will I lose my dignity?

Will someone care?

Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?

Ask yourself these questions, and then live long enough to find the answer. Don’t forget there’s always another tomorrow, and you never have to do today again.

As Namjoon, Key, Hui, and now Hyojong walked the streets to Christmas bells were ringing. They saw a man with wet sleeves holding a bucket and a squeegee. He approached a car stopped at a red light and cleaned its window.

When he went to collect his fee for cleaning, he gave a warm smile, “Honest living, man!” And yet the car sped off. “Feliz Navidad.” and scoffed, sitting back on the side of the road.

There were homeless people sleeping all around the lot, just loitering and not bothering anyone. Not for real. Maybe asking a passerby for money to eat but that’s about it.

One of the men in the warmest clothes he could find and probably the only clothing he owned greeted three officers who patrolled the area on foot, “Evening, officers.”

Apparently they didn’t like his attitude, for the first one started to grab the man’s collar. Hui jumped in with his cell phone and the others did the same.

“Smile for YouTube, Officer Martin.” Hui did a close up of the man’s name tag.

They let him go and left. The homeless man had the last word, “And a Merry Christmas to your family!”

“Right…” You could see he wanted to flip the homeless man off.

As Hui continued to film, he saw a person carrying a lot of bags.

Apparently, they didn’t like being filmed, “Who the fuck do you think you are? I don't need no goddamn help from some bleeding heart cameraman. My life's not for you to make a name for yourself on.”

Key interrupted with a soft voice, “Easy, sugar, easy. He was just trying to--”

They weren’t having it, “Just trying to use me to kill his guilt. It's not that kind of movie, honey.” They talked to their pink haired companion. “Let's go. This lot is full of motherfucking artists!” Still… “Hey, artist, you gotta dollar?”

The companion shook a styrofoam cup, but Hui had no money to give.

“I thought not.” They scoffed and moved onto their train.

Wanting to move the awkward moment along, Key said, “New York City!” and did jazz hands to distract them. “Center of the universe.”

“Sing it, girl--” Namjoon said.

“Times are shitty, but I'm pretty sure they can't get worse.”

“I hear that.” Hui nodded.

“It's a comfort to know when you're singing the hit the road blues that anywhere else you could possibly go after New York would be…” He used his deepest voice. “A pleasure cruise.”

The others laughed at the sudden change in tone.

Namjoon agreed, “Now you're talking.” Then he paused. “Well, I'm thwarted by a metaphysic puzzle, and I'm sick of grading papers that I know. Now I'm shouting in my sleep, I need a muzzle. All this misery pays no salary, so...Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe. Oh, sunny Santa Fe would be nice. We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe, and leave this to the roaches and mice” He sighed, “Ohhhh-oohhh-ooo-oh-ohh”

“You teach?” Asked Key

“Yeah, I teach. Computer age philosophy while my students would rather watch TV.”

She chuckled, “America.”

“America!” The whole train seemed to echo.

He then decided to charm Key some more, “You're a sensitive aesthete, brush the sauce onto the meat. You could make the menu sparkle with a rhyme. You could drum a gentle drum,” Namjoon patted the bucket. “I could seat guests as they come. Chatting not about Heidegger, but wine!” He grinned as he linked arms with Hyojong and ‘seated’ him in a new spot on the train as if he were a customer. “Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe. Our labors would reap financial gain.” He pointed at E’Dawn, Hui, and Key in turn each singing higher that the last.

“Gain”

“Gain”

“Gain”

“We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe and save from devastation our brains.”

They chanted after him, “Save our brains.”

“We'll pack up all our junk and fly so far away, devote ourselves to projects that sell. We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe! Forget this cold Bohemian hell.”

This time it was one of the street performers on the train who sang along to his sighs, “Ohhhh- oohhh-ooo-oh-ohh. Whoa~”

Namjoon smiled and leaned bowed as the doors slid open letting Key go first to step carefully over the gap in his heels.

“Do you know the way to Santa Fe? You know, tumbleweeds... prairie dogs…”

Everyone grinned in unison, “Yeah…”

Then Hui and Hyojong said that they would catch the two later since it seemed the blonde had something he wanted to talk about something. Or someone. The other two agreed and continued to just walk around.

“Alone at last.” Key acted cute to get his attention.

Namjoon was nervous, “He’ll be right back, I promise.” and went to pick up the bucket that had been left behind.

“I’ve been hearing violins all night.” He tried to drop a stronger hint to see if his love interest would pick it up as well.

“Anything to do with me?” He asked, genuinely curious and hopeful. “Are we a thing?”

Key took the bucket out of his hands and held them himself, “Jagiya, we’re everything.” She hugged him from behind, “Live in my house, I'll be your shelter. Just pay me back with one thousand kisses. Be my lover, and I'll cover you.”

Oblivious as always, the warmly dressed man could only hope he was asking to be official and faced his love, “Open your door, I'll be your tenant. Don't got much baggage to lay at your feet, but sweet kisses I've got to spare. I'll be there and I'll cover you.”

The grin he got in return confirmed it. It felt as though their hearts were singing to each other since they were too shy to do it out loud on the street like this. Their hearts beat out, I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love. Now I know you can rent it. A new lease, you are my love. On life, be my life.

They began to be that stupidly cute couple you rarely see and just danced on the street no longer caring who saw them since it was just the two of them that mattered. Their hearts still sang, Just slip me on, I'll be your blanket. Wherever, whatever I'll be your coat.

Placing an imaginary crown on his lover’s head, Key stood on his tippy toes, “You'll be my king, and I'll be your castle.”

“No, you'll be my queen, and I'll be your moat.” Namjoon made a wavy motion with his arms. Then he spoke what his heart had said earlier. “I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love. Now I know you can rent it. A new lease, you are my love. On life, be my life.”

She nodded, “I've longed to discover something as true as this is.”

“So, with a thousand sweet kisses…”

“If you're cold and you're lonely”

“I'll cover you with a thousand sweet kisses.”

“You've got one nickel only.”

“I'll cover you”

“With a thousand sweet kisses,” Key said it first this time.

Namjoon let her, “When you're worn out and tired…”

“I'll cover you with a thousand sweet kisses”

“When your heart has expired”

Key promised, “I'll cover you.”

Together, they belted out everything they had in their heart that had become one with this confession of feelings and display of affection, “Oh, lover I'll cover you. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Oh, lover.”

They held each other closely, “I'll cover you.”

Then they kissed and decided to continue their stroll elsewhere.

To check in with Maman, she was on the phone sorting things out at her office, “Steve? Joanne The Murget case?” She asked for the verdict. “A dismissal! Good work counselor! We're okay!”

Then her cell phone rang showing a cute photo of Hwasa, “Jagiya, wait, I'm on the other phone. Yes, I have the cowbell. We're okay.”

She switched back to her office phone, “So tell them we'll sue, but a settlement will do. Sexual harassment and civil rights, too. Steve, you're great.” Catching something that Hwasa said, Maman replied. “No, you cut the paper plate. Didja cheat on Mark a lot, would you say?”

The lawyer caught herself and closed her eyes, “We're okay. Honey, hold on…” Into the other phone, she spoke, “Steve, hold on…” and then pressed the CALL WAITING button on her cell phone to see who it was.

“Hello? Dad, yes I beeped you. Hwasa is coming to Mother's hearing. We're okay.”

She heard Hwasa say something and switched back, “Honeybear what? Dogbird's lesbian sister? I'll tell him.” Maman switched over and then her dad cut her off before she got a chance to say anything. “You heard?” switch. “They heard. We're okay.”

“And to you, Dad.” Then she hung up the call with her father and was only down to two calls to focus on. “Yes,” She set her jaw at her girlfriend’s sentence. “Jill is there?”

She spoke on the office phone, “Steve, gotta--” but quickly went back to her cell, “Jill with the short black hair? The Calvin Klein model? Steve, gotta go!” Maman hung up the right phone surprisingly and spoke to Hwasa. “The model who lives in Penthouse A???”

“We're...we're okay. I'm on my way.”

Quickly, Maman grabbed her bag and walked out of her office to make sure nothing happened between her girlfriend and the Calvin Klein model Jill.

______

Christmas bells are ringing. Christmas bells are ringing. Christmas bells are singing...On TV. At SAKS.

“Honest living, honest living…” The squeegeman called out repeatedly trying to get some one to pay him for his work.

The homeless begged all around, “Can't you spare a dime or two? Here but for the grace of God go you. You'll be merry. I'll be merry, though merry ain't in my vocabulary.” They sighed at old memories of being warm and happy if they had them, and if not, they dreamed of the day that they would have a place of their own and food on the table. But for now: No sleigh bells. No Santa Claus. No yule log. No tinsel. No holly. No hearth. No--

“Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.” Some rude teens messed with a display that was a well known spot for homeless to sleep, not thinking of the consequences or just not caring.

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. There was no room at the Holiday Inn. And it's beginning to snow. However, when things got bad, there was always something to do. So they opened up shop before things got too bad since they might have been able to make some money and find a place to stay. A small hope, but better than nothing.

“Hats!”

“Bats”

“Shoes”

“Booze”

“Mountain bikes”

“Potpourri”

“Leather bags”

“Girlie mags”

“Forty fives” and most importantly

“AZT!”

They called out to anyone that would listen, often overlapping with one another.

One vendor called out, “No one's buying? Feel like crying.”

Still there was no room at the Holiday Inn. Oh no. And it's beginning to snow.

A large woman talked up her things to Namjoon and Key who were passing by, “How about a fur in perfect shape? Owned by an MBA from uptown. I got a tweed broken in by a greedy broker who went broke and then broke down.”

Namjoon, having gotten his coat stolen yesterday told her, “You don't have to do this…”

“Hush your mouth, it's Christmas.” was his reply.

“I do not deserve you, Key.” The beanie wearing man stared with love in his eyes while his boyfriend searched through the coat rack. “Give, Give all you do is give.”

She squatted down, “Wait, what's on the floor? Let's see some more. No, no, no, no.” He basically hissed at the hideous collection.”

“Give me some way to show how you've touched me so.”

Key didn’t want much, “Kiss me, it's beginning to snow.” He grabbed Namjoon’s vest with both hands and pulled him closer.

Now with the boys Hui and Hyojong, the latter had explained what had happened today with Hyuna. Hui was more surprised not to see him inside the house.

“...She said, "Would you light my candle' and she put on a pout and she wanted you to take her out tonight?”

“Right.” Hyojong confirmed.

“She got you out!”

He shook his head, “She was more than okay, but I pushed her away. It was bad, I got mad and I had to get her out of my sight.”

Hui squinted at his blonde friend, “Wait, wait, wait, you said she was sweet!”

Hyojong just shook his head, not wanting to talk about his big screw up, “Let's go eat. I’ll just get fat. It's the one vice left when you're dead meat.” Then yellow boots caught his eye. “There! That's her!”

“Hwasa?” The only important her in Hui’s life was not the one passing by.

He turned his friend around and pointed, “Hyuna!”

“Woah!”

“I should go--” Hyojong started.

Then both men looked up, “Hey, it's beginning to snow.”

As cops circulated, music from nearby played. “I'm dreaming of a white white Christmas.”

However, even in this snow junkies and addicts of all sorts were trying to get their fix by visiting their local drug dealer who was avoiding the cops that had just left the specific area. They only had one goal and that was to follow the man, follow the man with his pockets full of the jam. Follow the man, follow the man.

“Help me out, Daddy, if you can.” They begged and then asked, “Got any D, man?”

To which the shady figure replied, “I'm cool.” leading them to where he kept his stash.

“Got any C, man?” Another asked.

“I'm cool.”

“Got any X? Any smack? Any horse? Any joogie boogie boy? Any blow?” All street names for drugs were spoken and then handed out.

The police seemed to be too close for comfort, so Hyuna waited for them to move along giving Hyojong time to catch up with her.

“Hey…” He said.

“Hey.” She replied nonchalantly.

Hyojong looked at her eyes, “I just want to say I'm sorry for the way --”

“Forget it.” Hyuna spoke dismissively.

“I blew up.” He stepped forward. “Can I make it up to you?”

She raised her eyebrow, “How?”

“Dinner party?” Hyojong offered.

“That'll do.” She smiled at him.

The dealer came back because he was sure he had missed someone from his original client list today. He wasn’t happy when he saw her chatting with an old customer who suddenly stopped visiting him one day. Had he gone and made his own business?

“Hey lover boy, cutie pie. You steal my client, you die!”

E’Dawn was gonna fight, “You didn't miss me, you won't miss her! You'll never lack for customers!”

He remembered his past self willing to kill for a fix, “I'm willin', I'm illin'. I gotta get my sickness off.” and how skittish he was around enforcers. “Gotta run, gotta ride. Gotta gun, gotta hide, gotta go.”

Holding up two bags of white powder the dealer chuckled, “And it's beginning to snow.”

Choogmin was not happy when he saw a crowd starting to arrive for Hwasa’s show. He even called his wife to tell her, “We're outta luck, Alison, the protest is on!” As the addicts came back when they saw the cops were gone or at least not close enough to see their business being done. The coat vendor was still trying to make a sale with Namjoon and Key.

“L. L. Bean, Geoffrey Beene. Burburry zip-out lining.” She picked one very familiar to Namjoon. “Here's a new arrival.”

The man gasped when he noticed the missing sleeve, “That's my coat!”

To which the vendor replied, “We give discounts~”

He wasn’t about to let her get off, “It's a sham!”

Key didn’t want them to fight, so he said, “Let's get a better one!”

“But she's a thief!”

“But she brought us together~”

Namjoon couldn’t argue with that and pointed to one coat that had caught his eye, “I'll take the leather.

“Honest living!” in the background.

Hyojong introduced his two friends, “Hui, this is Hyuna-noona.”

They bowed to each other and greeted each other politely. Hui hesitated for a bit because he was sure he had seen her somewhere before.

“She'll be dining with us.” the blonde spoke awkwardly.

“I think we've met.” Hui said.

Nearby the dealer was dealing with an unhappy customer, “That is an ounce!”

Hyuna smirked, “That's what he said!”

Then he changed his story, “I said it's a gram!”

Watching more people file in, Choongmin asked his wife, “Which investor's coming? Your father? Damn!” It wasn’t going to be a good impression.

But Hyuna and Hui seemed to be getting along quite nicely as she asked why he had such a large camera and why he never stopped recording. He said he was recording life, and it made Hyojong happy to see people he loved connecting. Still he sort of just hung in the background while they continued talking.

Then he finally spoke up, “Let's go to the lot. Hwasa's performing.”

Hyana turned around from making a silly face in the camera, “Who's Hwasa?”

“His ex.” He motioned to Hui.

Both turned to look at him, and he said, “But I am over her.”

Hui began walking ahead of the maybe couple. Hyuna reached out to hold his hand, but he pulled away.

“Let's not hold hands yet.”

“Is that a warning?” She pouted.

“I just need to take it slow.”

Key helped his love put on his new leather coat after the vendor drove a hard bargain. He looked amazing in it! Namjoon felt good in it too, so he began acting as if he were a millionaire showing off his new threads. Key joined in on the little play and sassily walked into her lover’s arms.

Hyojong thought to himself as he looked at Hyuna, I should tell you, I should tell you. I should tell you, I should tell you.

She also thought, I should tell you.

They opened their mouths at the same time, “I…”

Hui didn’t notice and so he pointed to the sky, “And it's beginning to…”

Namjoon and Key noticed as well, “And it's beginning to…”

“And it's beginning to--” Every person who could see crystals falling from the sky said.

Hwasa showed up on her motorcycle, making a path clear for her and handed her helmet to her girlfriend, “Maman, which way to the stage?”

Snow! It was finally snowing! But that didn’t stop the show from going on. Soon things settled and the performer with short black hair was handed her cowbell. After a quick kiss from Maman, she went on stage. The other stood to the side to make sure she was close in case anything went wrong.

___________

Then the spotlight came on with the clank of a cowbell. Hwasa began her performance.

“Last night, I had a dream.” She looked at all the eyes. “I found myself in a desert called: Cyberland. It was hot,” Hwasa fanned herself  and pantomimed a leak. “My canteen had sprung a leak and I was thirsty.”

A few giggles spread through the audience.

She pointed into the distance, “Out of the abyss walked a cow, Elsie. I asked if she had anything to drink.” The woman struck a strange pose. “She said, ‘I'm forbidden, to produce...milk. In Cyberland we only drink DIET COKE.”

With the fixed reverb, “Diet Coke” echoed and echoed. She sang everything that Elsie said to make sure the crowd knew it was the cow and not her speaking. Why? Because ART because PERFORMANCE! That’s fucking why.

“Yes!” Hwasa said to herself, clenching in her fist for it was working. Then she continued by pressing a button that played violin on cue, “She said, ‘Only thing to do is jump over the moon!’” The music stopped. “‘They closed everything real down like barns and troughs and performance spaces” She stared daggers at Choongmin who was front row. “And replaced it all with lies and rules and virtual LIFE!’” She did the robot.

“Life, life, -ife”

“‘But there is a way out’” Another button showed a child’s drawing of a cow and audio played which repeated. “leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith.” in a sing song voice which Hwasa vocalized with.

“Oooooooo. ‘Only thing to do is ~jump over the moon~!’ I've gotta get out of here!” She screamed and started to pantomime her words once more. “It's like I'm being tied to the hood of a yellow rental truck being packed in with fertilizer, and fuel oil pushed over a cliff by a suicidal Mickey Mouse.” She made a gun with her hand and ‘shot’ herself after putting on one of those cheesey Mickey Mouse ear head bands.

She then head thrashed with every syllable, “I've gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Go--” She coughed and then gathered more breath. “Gotta Gotta find a way, to ~jump over the moon~! Only thing to do is jump over the moon~”

The headband was now on the floor, “Then, a little bull dog entered. His name, we have learned, was Choongmin.” She glanced her shirt real quick to make sure she had the prop and pointed at the man himself who received boos. “And although he once had principles, he abandoned them to live as a lapdog to a wealthy daughter of the revolution.”

Hwasa made her eyes wide and stuck her tongue out like a panting pup. She pressed a third button that turned on a jazzy instrumental and snapped along with it, giving herself time to put on glasses just like the ones her persecutor wore.

“‘Uh one two three that's bull!’ he said ‘Ever since that cat took up the fiddle that cow's been...jumpy. The dish and the spoon were evicted from the table and eloped. She's had trouble with the milk and that moon ever since.” She motioned to her breasts for milk and her ass for moon while concluding the bulldog’s intro with. “‘Maybe it's a... “““female thing”””?”

The short haired Hwasa continued to play as the greedy Choongmin, “‘Cause who'd want to leave Cyberland anyway? Walls ain't so bad~’” She mimed those walls surrounding her on all sides. “The dish and the spoon for instance, they're down on their luck they come knocking on my doghouse door and I say.” She cocked an invisible rifle. “‘NOT IN MY BACKYARD, UTENSILS, GO BACK TO CHINA!’”

“Biddi Bonggg.” said one of the cows behind her.

Fast as lightning, the glasses were hung back on her shirt and she went back into her Cow Pose to continue talking as Elsie. “‘The only way out is up!’ Elsie whispered to me, ‘A leap of faith’!” Hwasa sung in her highest register. “‘Sill thirsty?’” Hwasa smacked her lips and acted as if she hadn’t drank anything in days. “Parched”

“-ched, -ched, -ched”

“‘Have some milk.’ And I lowered myself beneath her and held my mouth to her swollen udder and I sucked the sweetest milk I have ever tasted.” She slurped as loud as she possibly could without actually slurping anything. ‘Climb onboard!’ she said. And as a harvest moon rose over Cyberland, we reared back. We sprang into a gallop leaping, out of orbit. I awoke. Singing…”

She had gotten so caught up in her show that she forgot to press the button. So she allowed herself to break character for a moment and rolled her eyes in frustration. Hwasa pushed the button and did her little dance while the audio chanted, “Leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith.”

“Ooooo. Only thing to do, only thing to is jump. Only thing to do is jump over the moon. Only thing to do is jump over the moon. Over the moon. Over the mooooooo.” Emotion just overcame her and the sound just came out. “Mooooooooooo.” She embraced the cow and yelled into the microphone. “MOOOOOOOOO!”

Her eyes scanned the amused crowd and beckoned, “Moo with me.”

“Moooo…” someone from the back called, barely heard.

Hwasa nodded in response, “Come on, sir, mooooo!”

She refused to stop mooing until all of the audience was mooing with her, save the surrounding cops and Park Choongmin himself.

“Mooooo! Mooooooo! Moooooooo! Moooo.”

“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Hwasa said angrily. Then collected herself slightly, “Thank you.” She bowed.

Everyone applauded, and then she got off stage to meet her girlfriend and friends. They quickly got out of there through a back entrance before the businessman could talk to them. It seemed he wasn’t there, though. Where had he gone?

Well, he was sitting in the Life Cafe with his father-in-law who was also the most important investor of the property where the protest was held. Right now, he was just trying to save his own ass and explaining where he planned to go from here in order for them to get the lot secured with no problems.

Then a horde of like 20 people all dressed as young adults usually did, wildly fashionable but also slightly questionable in taste.

The waiter saw them coming and tried to stop them, “No, please no. Not tonight, please no. Mister, can't. You? Go. Not tonight, can't have a scene.” His voice was deep and Australian.

“What??” Hyojong asked.

“Go, please go. You,”

The blonde pulled Hyuna by the hand past the lone waiter.

“Hello, sir! I said no. Important customer.” He pointed out Park Choongmin and other.

“What am I, just a blur?” Hui asked.

The waiter said, “You sit all night, you never buy!”

“That's a lie, that's a lie! I had a tea the other day.”

He folded his arms, “You couldn't pay.”

“Oh yeah…”

Key stuck a $100 bill in the waiter’s hand to get him to shut up and show that they could pay for whatever was ordered tonight.

Namjoon stared down and playfully leaned on the business man’s head, “THE Park Choongmin? Here?”

“Oh no.” The young waiter groaned.

“Wine and beer!” The hungry young adults demanded as they sat and rearrainged tables.

Hwasa called him, “The enemy of Avenue A.” and looked at the waiter. “We'll stay.”

“Oy vey!”

Namjoon asked, “What brings the mogul in his own mind to the Life Cafe?”

Choongmin asked for a second from the man in a three piece suit worth more than the cafe itself and then held up his cup to the short haired woman, “ would like to propose a toast to Hwasa’s noble try. It went well.”

In the same false cheer, Hwasa said, “Go to Hell.”

The others laughed.

Still, the man wasn’t giving up, “Was the yuppie scum stomped? Not counting the homeless, how many tickets weren't comped?”

She just flipped him off.

Hyojong decided to ask, “Why did Muffy--”

“Alison.” He corrected.

“--miss the show?”

He put his hands in his pockets, “There was a death in the family if you must know.”

Key put his hand to his heart, “Who died?”

“Our Akita.” Choongmin said.

Hui, Hyojong, Namjoon, and Key look at each other, “Evita!”

Someone barked.

Then Choongmin went up to the red head, “Hyuna, I'm surprised a bright and charming girl like you hangs out with these slackers who don't adhere to deals.”

As if they ever actually settled that half ass deal.

“They make fun, yet I'm the one attempting to do some good or do you really want a neighborhood where people piss on your stoop every night? Bohemia, Bohemia's a fallacy in your head. This is Calcutta. Bohemia is dead.”

So Hui stood, “Dearly beloved, we gather here to say our goodbyes~”

Hui and Namjoon held hands and lowered their heads, “Dies irae, dies illa. Kyrie eleison. Yitgadal veyitkadash.”

Everyone began to fake cry and wail and mourn the so called death of Bohemia.

“Here she lies!” Hui continued. “No one knew her worth. The late great daughter of Mother Earth. On this night when we celebrate the birth--in that little town of Bethlehem. We raise our glass, you bet your ass, to…”

Hwasa pulled down her jeans and mooned the yuppie scum she had the displeasure of knowing personally.

From the top of his lungs, Hui sings, “La vie Bohème!” Just for the sake of causing a ruckas.

The others started to slowly chant, “La vie Bohème...La vie Bohème...La vie Bohème...La vie Bohème.”

It even had a funky beat that caused the ringleader to continue this teasing, “To days of inspiration, playing hooky, making something out of nothing, the need to express to communicate. To going against the grain. Going insane...Going mad. To loving tension, no pension. To more than one dimension, to starving for attention, hating convention, hating pretension. Not to mention, of course” He did the filmer fingers to frame who he know was Choong-ie’s father-in-law. “Hating dear old Mom and Dad.”

“To riding your bike midday past the three-piece suits, to fruits” the gay members of the group posed accordingly. “To no absolutes, to Absolut, to choice, to The Village Voice, to any passing fad.”

And more importantly, “To being an us, for once instead of a them!”

“La vie Bohème.” the others cheered. “La vie Bohème!”

When Hwasa saw that Maman had come in, she asked, “Is the equipment in a pyramid?”

“It is, jagi.”

“The mixer doesn't have a case.”

Maman gave a shocked face and then started to walk out to fix things.

“Don't give me that face.” Hwasa said before grabbing her arm to pull her around to play with her hair. Just gals being pals.

Mr. Grey cleared his throat, “Ahem.”

“Hey, Mister. She's my sister.” Maman grabbed her ass and then left to go deal with the mixer.

The waiter had been doing his job and started to confirm orders, “So that's five miso soup, four seaweed salad, three soy burger dinner, two tofu dog platter, and one pasta with meatless balls.”

One of the boys looked around, “Ew.”

Namjoon stood up for himself, “It tastes the same.”

Hyuna giggled, “If you close your eyes.”

“And thirteen orders of fries. Is that it here?” The deep voiced Australian asked.

A chorus of, “Wine and beer!” came back at him.

Hyuna and Key made eye contact and jumped on the table to play patty cake, “To hand-crafted beers made in local breweries. To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese.” the two faked sharing a plastic phallus for this next part. “To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo. To huevos rancheros and Maya Angelou.”

Namjoon and Hwasa joined in, “Emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion. Creation, vacation.”

Hui held a very shaken can of sprite near his crotch and pointed it towards Mr. Grey, “Mucho masturbation.” the white foam sprayed all over him.

The performer and computer genius continued, “Compassion, to fashion, to passion when it's new.”

“To Sontag.” Namjoon said.

And Key picked up, “To Sondheim.”

Four of their friends body rolled in unison after climbing on top of their table, “To anything taboo.” but also in various positions.

Hyojong and Joon faced each other, “Ginsberg, Dylan, Cunningham, and Cage.”

“Lenny Bruce!” Namjoon referenced E’Dawn’s form.

Hyojong did the same, “Langston Hughes!”

The ever dramatic Hwasa reached to the lights and exclaimed, “To the stage!”

“To Uta” A silver haired girl in combat boots said.

“To Buddha.” Namjoon added.

J-Hope included, “Pablo Neruda, too.”

Walking down the table was Hyuna pretending to have Hui on a leash as he walked on all fours as they sang, “Why Dorothy and Toto went over the rainbow to blow off Auntie Em!”

Several people joined in to give the businessmen the middle finger but in more...polite ways before yelling, “La vie Bohème!”

Maman was back, so Hwasa went to meet her, “And wipe the speakers off before you pack.”

“Yes, jagi.”

“Well, hurry back.” The short haired performer kissed her lawyer girlfriend.

Mr. Grey raised his eyebrow, “Sister?”

In unison, they played dumb, “We're close.”

And they parted ways to show Namjoon being tackled and kissed by Key while everyone joked, “Brothers!”

Then everyone began partying a bit harder, “Bisexuals, trisexuals, homo sapiens, Carcinogens, hallucinogens, men, Pee-wee Herman. German wine, turpentine, Gertrude Stein, Antonioni, Bertolucci, Kurosawa. Carmina Burana. To apathy, to entropy, to empathy, ecstasy.”

They jumped on and off of furniture, “Vaclav Havel, The Sex Pistols, 8BC! To no shame, never playing the Fame Game.”

Namjoon held a fake blunt, “To marijuana!”

Again things went sexual with people on top of other people and maybe another person just for the hell of it, “To sodomy. It's between God and me! To S & M!”

Hyuna in particular slid close to Mr. Grey and started to pull his tie sexily. He backed up in fear since he was a married man who actually loved his wife.

“Waiter... Waiter... Waiter!”

The waiter then arrived and separated the two, giving Hyuna a look and trying not to smirk so that he could keep his job.

“La vie Bohème!”

Namjoon grabbed a salt shaker and began to use it as a microphone, “In honor of the death of bohemia, an impromptu salon will commence immediately following dinner. Kim Hyuna,” The woman herself began to do the dance she usually did on stage. “Clad only in bubble wrap will perform her famous lawn chair-handcuff dance to the sounds of iced tea being stirred.”

She laughed and covered her red lips as she was helped down by E’Dawn who announced, “And Lee Hwitaek will preview his new documentary about his inability to hold an erection on high holy days.”

Hui bent the now empty mayo bottle to make it look like he couldn’t get it up and then set it on the table, “And Hwasa, back from her spectacular one-night engagement at the eleventh street lot, will sing traditional Korean monk chants backwards through her vocoder, while accompanying herself on the electric cello, which she has never studied.”

Hyuna was taken aside by Choongmin who spoke to her in private, “Your new boyfriend doesn't know about us.”

She looked away from him, “There's nothing to know.”

“Don't you think that we should discuss --”

“It was three months ago.”

“He doesn't act like he's with you.” “We're taking it slow.” She shot back. Unlike their former relationship.

He scoffed, “Where is he now?”

“He's right-- She whipped around and pointed to where he just was a few seconds ago. “Um..”

“Uh huh…” Choongmin said.

Where'd he go?

Hui was the next to proclaim, “And E’Dawn will attempt to write a bittersweet, evocative song.”

Hyojong had realized the electric guitar on stage was abandoned and had to go to it. He played a simple line. The one he always played.

His friend rolled his eyes, “That doesn't remind us of Musetta's Waltz”

Namjoon grabbed the saltshaker back, “And THE Kim Kibum will model the latest fall fashions from Paris while accompanying herself on the 10 gallon plastic pickle tub.”

Key beamed at his love, “And Collins will recount his exploits as anarchist, including the tale of the successful reprogramming of the M.I.T. virtual reality equipment to self-destruct, as it broadcasts the words:”

Everyone screamed at the top of their lungs, “Actual Reality - ACT UP - Fight AIDS!”

Choongmin called for the check so he could get the hell out of there before things got any worse. Hyuna had had it with Hyojong who was nursing a beer. She shoved his shoulder.

“Excuse me, did I do something wrong? I get invited, then ignored all night long!”

“I've been trying, I'm not lying.” He replied. “No one's perfect, I've got baggage.”

“Life's too short, babe, time is flying! I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine.”

His heart leaked out for a moment, “I should tell you--”

She talked over him, “I've got baggage too.”

“I should tell you--”

The others called for another round of drinks. Then Hyuna’s timer went off.

She sighed, “AZT break.” She took out her bedazzled pill pack.

Hyojong recognized the shape, “You?” He took out his own square package with leaves doodled all over it.

“Me.” She saw it and softened her tone. “You?”

“Noona?”

The blonde looked behind him, and he took her to a place out the back that would allow them to talk without all the music and noise happening inside. He had forgotten jackets but even just being near her was enough warmth to last for now. Also, if he didn’t say something now, he would never say it.

He looked down at this hands, “I should tell you, I'm disaster. I forget how to begin it.”

Hyuna didn’t want any sadness, “Let's just make this part go faster. I have yet to be in it. I should tell you…”

I should tell you. I should tell you. There was so much to tell. I should tell you She went first, “I should tell I blew the candle out just to get back in.”

“I'd forgotten how to smile until your candle burned my skin.” He showed her the small burn scar that was still there from the wax.

I should tell you. I should tell you. I should tell you. I should tell… He looked into her eyes. It was still unsaid how they felt each other, but the look was enough.

“Well, here we go. Now we…” Hyojong reached out to her.

She pulled away, suddenly aware of what this meant, “Oh no.”

He tried again and held out his hand, “I know this something is...here goes.”

“Here goes.” Hyuna put her hand into his.

“Guess so, it's starting to...who knows?”

She nodded, her red hair bobbing with her head, “Who knows?” So many questions passed through their minds. Who knows where this relationship would go? Who goes there, as deep as they were going so soon? Who knows how long it would last? Here goes… For once in their lives they were trusting desire, starting to learn. Walking through fire without a burn. They held each other’s forearms not sure how close to get yet. Clinging a shoulder a leap begins. Stinging and older, asleep on pins.

So here we go. Now we…

Hyojong pulled back this time, suddenly scared again, absolutely terrified of the ending coming faster than he could handle.

“Oh no.”

She touched his hand, “I know.”

This simple understanding made him grab her hand even more tightly than before, “Oh no.”

Who knows where? Who goes there? Here goes.

They kissed not knowing what this would mean in the long run and not knowing how long that run would be.

Hwasa was caught kissing another girl with short red hair and then smiled when she saw her girlfriend entering, quickly going to her as if nothing happened. Maman had seen it though.

“Are we packed?” the black haired girl asked.

“Yes, and by next week I want you to be.” She walked past her now ex.

Confused and crushed, Hwasa asked, “Aein?”

“And you should see, they've padlocked your building and they're rioting on Avenue B.” the Doc Martin wearing woman said. “Choongie called the cops.”

“That fuck!” Hwasa said.

This got her a glare from her ex, “They don't know what they're doing. The cops are sweeping the lot, but no one's leaving. They're just sitting there mooing!”

Now they had even more reason to celebrate, “To Dance!” Someone said, pointing to Hyuna letting her get on the table once more.

“No way to make a living, masochism, pain, perfection, muscle spasms, chiropractors, short careers, eating disorders!”

Everyone pointed to Hui, “Film!”

He stood up and said, “Adventure, tedium, no family, boring locations, dark rooms, perfect faces, egos, money, Hollywood and sleaze!”

“Music!”

Key stood and Vogued on the tables, “Food of love, emotion, mathematics, isolation, rhythm, feeling, power, harmony, and heavy competition!”

“Anarchy!”

This time both Namjoon and Hwasa got up on the table and yelled at the top of their lungs, “Revolution, justice, screaming for solutions. Forcing changes, risk, and danger. Making noise and making pleas!”

They made more lists of what bohemia stood for. Each one of them was Bohemia. To people living with, living with, living with not dying from disease!

With linked wild hearts they cheered, “Let he among us without sin be the first to condemn! La vie Bohème! La vie Bohème! La vie Bohème!”

Hui came out of the fray and spoke with pride, “Anyone out of the mainstream? Is anyone in the mainstream? Anyone alive with a sex drive!”

“Or lack of!” A cute short person with an ace spectrum flag pin spoke up, getting a smile from the others.

“Tear down the wall, aren't we all? The opposite of war isn't peace...it’s creation!”

“Woooooooo! La vie Bohème…” The customers had turn the place into a beautifully crazy ruckas.

Hui goes to the top floor and records from the window as he narrates, “The riot continues as the Christmas tree goes up in flames.”

Fire engulfed twinkling lights and plastic bristles. The snow dances. Oblivious, Hyuna and Hyojong share a small tender kiss as they escaped out the back to go home or somewhere for the two of them to just talk. It wasn’t that small, but it was tender. Passionate. Hui worked on collecting footage and thought of selling it.

Inside were yells of, “Viva la vie Bohème!”