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sungbeam · 1 year ago

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nonidol!jeong yunho x f!reader

yunho might have been the superstar out of the two of you, but you have always been the center of his universe. (you — it's always been you.)

▷ genre, warnings. bffs2l, childhood friends 2 lovers, pining, popstar/singer au, swearing, fluff, humor, angst, hurt/comfort, kissing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of anxiety/nervousness, they physically cannot be apart for too long sorry they've got Attachment Issues low-key..., one kiss (is all it takes—)

▷ word count. 16.3k (guys,, this was supposed to be only like 6-8k i swear 😭)

▷ associated tunes. keep smiling (demxntia), gone too long (lullaboy), tear in my heart (twenty-one pilots)

a/n: hope u guys like this :'))) i had one of the scenes from here stuck in my brain for awhile and so i had to build the rest of the fic around it, and it turned into this monster, so uhm yes... also much love to @jaehunnyy tysm for reading thru it for me 💖

THE DAY YUNHO'S ALBUM hit the Billboard Hot 100, you knew that you were going to need a lot more hands on deck than just you, your roommate, and Jeong Yunho himself.

“There's not enough albums, not enough time in the day, not enough of you!” You exclaimed with your fingers shoved into your hair as you took in the landscape of chaos before you on your living room floor. “Yunho, why couldn't you be ambidextrous?”

His eyes widened, body frozen where he was shoving a slice of beef jerky into his mouth. “Mwe? Pwhy are pyu yellinh ap mwe por?”

“I'm not yelling at you; I'm just wondering why you weren't born with eight arms instead of just two.” There were simply too many albums for him to sign before his agent came to pick them up in two hours, and there were also too few albums for the amount of demand. You always knew your best friend would make it big one day, but you also thought he would have had a whole team by that time.

Technically, you were his team—you, your roommate Trinity, and Mingi who was at his grandmother's for the long weekend. Mingi was five texts away from driving back down to help you guys four hours ago though. But his family needed him right now, and Yunho was firm in ensuring Mingi didn't have to come down and help. We got this, he'd said. It'll be easy, he also said.

Sure. Easy.

“We can't just forge his signature?” Trinity joked in a sleep-deprived daze as she leaned back against the couch cushions. Her mouth opened wide in a yawn. “I'm kidding. Let's not ruin his career.”

Yunho swallowed his bite. “That would be nice.” He cleaned his fingers on the Wet Wipe he had handy by his thigh, then picked up his black Sharpie, spinning the writing utensil between his fingers. “Now where were we? Album number fifty-six—?”

This had taken place just four months after Yunho released his second album, Aurora. It had been nearly a year and a half since Yunho debuted himself onto the music scene, and it was about time people finally began to recognize your best friend for all that he was—multi-talented, charismatic, handsome (on some occasions; you wouldn’t let him catch you slipping up there, though).

Within the next year and a half, Yunho skyrocketed into further altitudes of fame.

There were plenty of changes that occurred, many evolutions to Yunho's team and additions to his discography, but you were always a part of it. Even with your own career dealings, you would drop anything to be there for him, and him for you. Between the morning show interviews and late night recording sessions, there were also the research presentations and study session pick-me-ups.

“Are you sure you don't wanna come with?” You asked from where you were stationed in front of the bathroom mirror, putting on the final touches for your look this evening.

You could hear Trinity's fingers clacking away at her keyboard at the speed of light through her open bedroom door. “I'd love to, but I unfortunately did screw myself over by procrastinating on this paper. Have fun though, and tell Yunho congrats for me.”

Tonight was the album release party for Yunho's third full studio album entitled Youth. It was something he had been working on for years now, only recently having become satisfied with the tracks he chose and produced for it. Due to his sudden rise in fame, the release party was said to be hosting a myriad of big name celebrities and figures in the music industry. And of course, you. You were no one special, in hindsight, but Yunho couldn't begin to imagine celebrating a milestone without you by his side.

By eight o'clock, you were ready to head out.

You bid Trinity goodbye as you hustled out the front door of your apartment and down to the street below. Yunho and Mingi and everyone else would already be at the party; you would arrive on your own via Uber. You wished you could've been with him to get ready like all the other times, but your schedule had been unfortunate as of late. You were lucky enough to have gotten off of work this early.

As you sat in the backseat of your ride, you anxiously fidgeted with your phone in your lap.

(You were, without a doubt, excited to arrive at the party. Due to yours and Yunho's ever-busy and ever-conflicting schedules nowadays—yours because of work and PhD candidacy stuff, Yunho's because of rehearsals for his upcoming world tour—it had been awhile since you were able to hang out in person. You missed your gentle giant of a best friend.)

A loud vibration from it made your heart leap into your throat, and your face lit up in the dark with the incoming notification.

rockstar 🤟: pls tell me you've left the house

You snorted and typed out a swift reply. If I told you I was still in my pajamas…

rockstar 🤟: then i would call u a liar cuz u don't go to work in pjs, weirdo rockstar 🤟: just getting antsy tbh rockstar 🤟: need my star here w me :’)))

You couldn't help the touched pout that came to your face. I'm almost there, don't worry. And who are you calling a star when that's you? He always got a little sappy when he was nervous.

rockstar 🤟: im literally not having fun here without u hurry up :// your phone: isn't this UR album release party 😭 yun, why aren't u having fun? rockstar 🤟: just hurry up your phone: aish okok 🤧 eta 8min mr. impatient

You knew it was the jitters making him say things like that. Once you got there, you hoped you could help reassure him that he could stop worrying for just a second to enjoy himself. Even if Yunho worried about the album and what people thought, you were just as nervous. You hadn't even heard the entire thing—he’d been cheeky and didn't tell you he added a song to it last minute, but you'd listened to everything else.

You just hoped that people would continue to celebrate him and give him the love he deserved.

When your Uber driver pulled into the drop off loop at the front of the venue, you thanked him on your way out and threw the strap of your small purse over your shoulder. Already, however, as you were met with the residuals of flashing camera lenses and frantic paparazzi calls just a little ways down the driveway, the anxiety slowly began to settle in the pit of your stomach.

You could see the celebrities going up the entrance with people asking them to pose for their cameras, to say a word into their recorders.

Immediately, you turned on your heel and began slipping your way to a side entrance. The last thing you wanted was for dozens upon dozens of people to be staring at you, wondering who you were and why you were important. There were definitely people who knew you—you were plastered all over Yunho's social media because that was just what best friends did. But compared to everyone else walking up that driveway? Not a chance. You were nobody, and that was ay-okay to you.

Just as you thanked one of the employees coming out the side door for letting you in, you felt your phone buzz in your hand again, this time with an incoming call.

You picked it up and squeezed it between your ear and shoulder. “You're gonna need to speak up—the kitchen is super loud.”

“You're here finally!” Yunho said to you through the phone. “I was starting to get worried.”

You chuckled as you ducked out of the kitchen and into the main lobby to get to the elevators. The party was taking place somewhere on the seventh floor… if you could get there without getting lost. “Hey Yun, do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Calm down, man.”

The elevator sang its arrival and you stepped inside to the sound of Yunho sucking in a deep breath, then exhaling slowly. “I am calm… wait, are you in the lobby? Let me come down and get y—”

“I just got in the elevator, so don't worry—and I really don't think you should be leaving your own party, rockstar,” you teased. “Man, Mingi and Hwa really pulled out all the stops for this place,” you marveled quietly as you gave the elevator carriage a thorough look. It was made of marble and mirrors, every surface polished and crisp, like that of a tailored suit if tailored suits were made of crystals.

“Yeah, it's really great,” he agreed. “Remember the release party we threw for Crescent?”

A fond laugh tumbled out of your lips as you stepped out of the elevator and onto the seventh floor. Your mind filled with memories of his debut album's release party hosted in yours and Trinity's living room with three extra large Domino's pizzas, root beer floats, and a cheap disco ball. It had been a party for four that night—you, Yunho, Mingi, and Trinity—but your friends didn't need the fancy shit to have fun. “Definitely leagues away from this.”

There was a bouncer at the far end of the hallway, and you were certain now that you were in the right place.

“I kind of miss it,” Yunho murmured. You heard the sound on his end shift, simultaneous to watching the doors in front of you crack open and see Yunho's head pop out into the empty hallway.

“I kind of miss it, too,” you said into the phone, your eyes locked on his and a smile blooming over your features at the sight of your best friend, in the flesh.

There was a tender gleam in his eyes as he took you in and said something in a low tone to the bouncer. He stepped out into the hallway, letting the doors behind him shut fully.

“Slowpoke,” was his greeting to you as he scooped you into his embrace. The smell of his cologne was something familiar and delicious, and permeated your senses.

“Worrywart,” you quipped back, wrapping your arms around him to reciprocate.

When you both pulled back, he kept you at arm's length so he could take a better look at you. “I can't believe you're calling me the worrywart! I do recall that one night when Aurora hit the Top 100—”

You silenced him with a look and a playful punch to his shoulder. You pressed your lips together to suppress a smile as he tilted his head back in a jovial laugh. “Quiet, you. For once, I can't believe you're more nervous than I am.”

He gave a sheepish grin, fussing with the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt, adjusting the chain he wore on his collarbones so the clasp sat right at the hollow of his throat.

You softened. Oh, he was really nervous.

“This album's just big for me; you know that,” he said, almost like he was trying to brush it off.

“I do.” The two of you began slowly making your way back towards the party doors. “Though, I'm excited to hear this mystery song that you snuck on there. I'm sure everyone will fall in love with the album, just like I did.”

He peered over at you then, and you couldn't understand why you were unable to read his expression then. It was… different. “Really?”

You blinked. “Of course,” you replied automatically. “I mean,” you added, “it's you, Yun. What's not to love?”

Yunho seemed speechless for a second, but moments later, he was breaking into a soft-cornered smile. “You always know what to say, Yn. Come on, there are some people who are dying to meet you.”

“Dying to meet me?” You laughed as the bouncer let the two of you into the party.

The party room was a rented out lounge space with wraparound windows that looked out at the skyline in the valley below. The main lights were kept low and warm, illuminating strategic places throughout the space to highlight the prohibition-like interior design. It was something out of a 1920s speakeasy with its velvet couches and dark mahogany wood finishes.

Yunho took you over toward the side of the room to get food first. There was a variety of snacks and small bites on the buffet table, and there was a bar counter shoved into the far corner where a bartender served drinks.

“I've pretty much socialized with everyone in this room already,” Yunho murmured to you as he shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned. “Meaning I can bug you for the rest of the night.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “There has to be, like, fifty people here. We still have the whole party left.”

“Yeah, but I have more fun with you anyway,” he said with a shrug. He reached for one of the little serving cups that held a little roll of rice armed with a slice of wagyu beef on top, all wrapped together with a strip of nori. “Now these—these are fucking amazing, dude. You have to try one.”

You snorted, but grabbed one of the little cups. “How many of these have you eaten already, Yun?”

He tapped his cup against yours like he was clinking glasses together. He chuckled, averting his gaze. “We don't have to talk about that…” His eyes caught onto someone nearby, and he perked up, shoving the entire bite into his mouth so he had a free hand to flag down whoever it was. “Mmh!”

You nearly choked on your own bite as you watched your best friend, who's cheeks were stuffed like a chipmunk's, flap his arm around in the air to get this person's attention because his mouth was currently occupied.

You turned your head to see who he was waving over, and nearly choked again, having to cup your hand over your mouth to prevent rice from falling out. Your eyes widened an alarming amount. “Mmno—!” You mumbled through your bite.

“What? I can't hear you,” he snickered. “Hongjoong hyung! There's someone I want you to meet.”

You made a crazed gesture—no, no, I'm not ready! How dare you ambush me with social interac—you swallowed the food in your mouth as Hongjoong made his way over. You had never met the famed Kim Hongjoong—legendary producer, prodigy musician, favorite model to ever strut down the Paris Fashion Week Runway. He dropped off the grid for a brief three-month hiatus until he suddenly reappeared, but in your best friend's Instagram story. At some point, Yunho had met Hongjoong and won his favor. Then again, it was easy for Yunho to win over anyone's favor.

No one really knew why Hongjoong disappeared like he had, but some speculate it had something to do with his new relationship status: single.

You were always starstruck seeing Hongjoong on Yunho and Mingi's social media, as well as Hongjoong's own platforms. Tonight was no exception.

Hongjoong's hair of the season was a simple light brown that complimented his skin tone and the warmth in his smile. You were used to seeing him in more extravagant garb, but tonight, he chose something very simple, but chic like Yunho.

Yunho and Hongjoong clasped hands in greeting. “What's up, man?” The latter chirped, eyes flickering over to you as you attempted to behave normally.

Yunho gestured toward you, his eyes twinkling as he swept his arm around your shoulders to bring you forward. “This is Yn. Yn, this is Hongjoong. He's the one who produced the album—”

“Now, don't downplay your own efforts, Yunho,” Hongjoong cut in with a knowing look. “You produced so much of it on your own; I fine-tuned and made a couple tracks, but the rest was all you, man.”

“I always tell him he's far too humble,” you agreed.

Hongjoong sent you a smile, extending his hand out. “Great minds think alike, Yn. It's very nice to meet the person this guy doesn't ever stop talking about.”

You laughed good-naturedly and saw Yunho's flushed sheepishness out of the corner of your eye. You shook Hongjoong's hand with a firm, confident grip. “Nice to meet you, too. You're—you’re incredible, by the way. I remember when Yunho posted a photo with you, and I literally screamed his ear off over the phone.”

Yunho winced and held a hand up to his ear, as if remembering the physical sensation of that phone call. “Yup, definitely damaged my eardrum that day.”

“Well, thank you; I'm flattered,” Hongjoong replied pleasantly. “So I'm assuming you've probably heard as much of the album as I have then?”

“I'm sure you've heard the whole thing,” you said. “Yunho has withheld one of the tracks from me, but I've listened to all the rest.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Oh? Which track did—oh.” As he and Yunho made eye contact, you watched as a silent understanding passed between them, and Hongjoong's mouth tugged upward in a teasing smile. “That song.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

Hongjoong flourished his hand as if to wave away the thought. “He just wanted it to be perfect, so we were working on it up to the last second. Nothing terribly concerning.”

Ah. You relaxed, but the curiosity still lingered in your mind's eye. “I'm sure it's great, nonetheless.”

“Oh yeah, you're gonna love—”

“Oh-kay! That's enough about the song,” Yunho chuckled nervously as he grabbed your shoulders and began steering you away from a clearly amused Hongjoong. “Let's go say hi to Mingi, hm?”

You threw him a look from over your shoulder, but went along with him toward wherever he'd seen Mingi wandering around. “What has gotten into you tonight?” You teased, though, you also hoped to know why he was so jittery. He wasn't even this nervous about dropping his debut album.

Yunho showed you a bright smile, the same kind of golden-retriever expression that the media knew him well for. It would have been enough if you didn't know him. “Again, it's an important album to me. And the song I added last minute is on the deluxe version, so I wasn't really confident in putting it on the original release.”

“Ah,” you murmured. You reached up to pat the hand that rested on your left shoulder reassuringly. “I'm sure it really is a great song, Yun, and I'm not just saying that. You can make an awful omelet, but you can't make an awful song.”

Your best friend bursted into laughter at the latter comment, and your heart soared to see the genuine smile on his face now. That was your Yunho shining through. “You're right—if I can't scramble eggs, at least I can write a song.”

Over the next hour and a half, Yunho took you on a tour around the room, jumping from friend to friend to introduce you to more of his world. For the most part, however, it felt like an excuse for you to bond with all his friends in teasing him about something or other. But he seemed content enough to see you getting along well with the other people close to him.

He had met plenty of your friends at your work, so it was only fair that you got the same opportunity.

At some point while you were with Wooyoung and San discussing all of the rehearsals for Yunho's upcoming world tour, Hongjoong summoned everyone's attention to announce that it was time to listen to the album. It would be a rather casual affair with the Youth album playing in the background of the party, but you were certain people would minimize their conversations to listen in.

You craned your neck to peer around the crowd to see where Yunho had gone off to. “Wait, guys, did you see where Yunho went?”

Wooyoung and San joined your search, but quickly hustled you into a nearby booth to sit and enjoy the album with your drinks. “He'll find us,” Wooyoung assured you as the three of you slipped into the leather seats. “He wouldn't miss this.”

“He'll at least be here by the last song,” San said offhandedly, his eyebrows wagging up and down.

Your lips parted, your face morphing into feigned offense. “Wait. Did he let you guys listen to the deluxe edition song, too?”

“Maybe,” Wooyoung giggled.

San cooed at your pout. “Awwh, don't take it to heart, Yn-ie. It was supposed to be a surprise for you.”

You raised your drink to your lips, sighing before taking a sip. “Everybody talks about this damn song as if he wrote it for me.”

Unbeknownst to you, the two others at the table exchanged pointed looks between one another when you were looking away. It was a wonder how Yunho was able to keep this all a secret from you. Though, even San and Wooyoung knew how busy you could get nowadays, so perhaps it really was just that easy. Plus, they had all at one point or another been privy to Yunho’s feelings—

“Speak of the Devil,” you perked up at the sight of your best friend emerging from the crowd with the others—Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Jongho (vocal coach and album feature), and Yeosang (PR management)—in tow behind him. “We were wondering where you had gone off to.”

Yunho grinned as the lot of them squished into the circular seating arrangement with you, San, and Wooyoung. “Sorry, had to go round everyone up. The album should be queued up and ready to go.” He chose to sit on the end of the booth to your right while everyone else filled it up from the other side.

You offered him a sip of your drink, and he gladly took the glass from you. “So San and Woo were just telling me about how their tour prep is coming. You guys are leaving—what was it—two weeks from now?”

He hummed, smacking his lips as he set the glass back down on the table. “Yeah, it should be just about two weeks,” he said. His arm came up to rest against the back of the booth seat behind you. “You know, you can still come to the first stop with us…” This was said with a very pointed look at you from Yunho, followed by similar expressions from everyone else around the table.

“And you know that day’s when my supervisor holds quarterly meetings that are mandatory,” you shot back. As much as you hated the timing, the day that Yunho and the team planned to fly to their first stop on his world tour, you were required to be present for a very important meeting at work.

The Youth World Tour was something Yunho had been looking forward to and preparing for a long time. Besides working on the Youth album itself, his working hours extended over the past year or so to get ready for this major milestone. You would definitely be able to meet up with them at one of the tour stops, you just weren’t sure which one yet.

Things at your workplace were a little rocky as of late due to shifting management, but you would play it by ear. For your best friend, of course you would make it work somehow.

Your ears pricked up at the sound of strings strumming overhead and your heart leapt out of your ribcage for a moment. “Oh my god, I love this song.”

“You and me both, Yn,” Hongjoong chuckled across the table from you, reaching over so you could bump fists with him, “you’ve got good taste.”

“You’re only saying that because you wrote this one specifically,” Yunho sputtered out a laugh while rolling his eyes.

“It’s a good message,” you said, picking up your drink to take a generous gulp of it. There was a little left at the bottom of the martini glass and you swirled the liquid around before handing it over to Yunho to finish. “I think this one will definitely make it onto my work playlist.”

Yunho draped the back of his hand over his forehead, setting the now empty glass on the table. “Wow, relegated to the work playlist. Is that all I am to you?”

“You are a mood maker,” you pointed out with a teasing smile.

“Bro, you're complaining as if Yn doesn't put her work playlist on for everything she does.” Mingi arched his brows over the rims of his sunglasses. (Why was he wearing sunglasses indoors and at night? You didn't know; he said something about looking cool.)

Wooyoung chuckled. “What? So let's say you're trying to sleep—”

“Yah, I have a different playlist for that! I'm not completely unreasonable.”

“Completely,” Yunho and Mingi said at the same time, then looked at each other with wide, excited eyes. They bursted out laughing at once, too, leaving you to deadpan at the two clowns to your eleven o'clock and three o'clock.

You sighed. “I hate you guys.”

That only made them laugh louder, spurring on the others to crack smiles and for you to do the same.

Yunho calmed slightly, his cheeks hurting from smiling. “Aw, you walked right into that one, Yn.”

“So you're saying you are, in some capacity, unreasonable—oh my god, don't hurt me!” Mingi shrieked as he shoved Yeosang's body in front of him like a human shield as you lurched forward and threatened to grab him.

Yeosang sent Mingi a dirty look as he wrestled out of his neighbor's hold. “Dude.”

“Jongho, protect me.”

The vocal coach popped the olive from his martini into his mouth. “If you can't handle the heat, hyung, stay out of the kitchen.”

You nodded, raising your pointer finger up. “Exactly.”

For the next hour, you and your friends shared good company and conversation, while also commenting on, praising, and enjoying the tunes from Yunho's Youth album. There were a good thirteen songs featured on the album, and while most of them were inspired by real life, you remembered the days and nights when Yunho would break out the white board under his bed to draw out a concept map of the storyline he'd created in his head for some songs. It was like a miniature Easter egg hunt for fans to piece together from album to album.

When the clock hit nearly midnight, you recognized the song that marked the end of the conventional album—track number thirteen, 22. It was a song that reflected and lamented on his early stages of adulthood, all the goods and bads, all the hopes and dreams he had left. It was something that tied the regular album with a satisfying bow, but you were also giddy to hear the secret fourteenth deluxe track.

But as his ethereal voice from 22 faded out, the same guitar chords from the first song of the album began to play.

Everyone at the table paused in confusion.

“Uhh, I thought you were revealing the hidden track tonight, Yunho?” Seonghwa asked from across the table.

Yunho tilted his body out of the booth to peer into the sound booth at the very back of the lounge, a furrow in his brow. “I thought I was, too,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

Before anyone else could say anything, Yunho disappeared past the door to the sound booth. You frowned as Hongjoong excused himself to catch up with him, mumbling something about helping with any technical difficulties.

In retrospect, it wouldn't be the biggest deal if you didn't get to hear the song tonight. You would simply listen to it when the deluxe album dropped in about a week, but you wouldn't deny that you were a little disappointed. Everyone else at this table had already listened to it—why had Yunho not shared it with you yet? Did he think you would judge him or not like it? You didn't think you were ever so harsh a critic, but that would explain why he was so nervous all night.

Regardless, you remained positive.

When Yunho and Hongjoong returned to the table, the rest of you all looked on to them expectantly.

“Something wacky is going on with the system right now and won't play the file for the hidden track,” Hongjoong huffed. He passed Yunho a sidelong glance, and you saw how Yunho avoided his friend's eyes like the plague. “Sorry to disappoint, Yn.”

Everyone's attention whipped toward you, and you straightened like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh, uhm, it's no biggie,” you said. You glanced over at Yunho who, if anything, seemed guilty. Or maybe it was just something apologetic. “Really—I can wait for it to drop officially.”

You didn't like how the air seemed to shift during this exchange, as if all the other boys were sitting on the edges of their seats, faces morphed into mixed ranges of confusion and disbelief.

You cleared your throat. “Anyone want more drinks?”

As the night waned and the party came to a close, you found yourself being helped into another Uber car to head home. After the supposed tech glitch, the remainder of the party passed by without a hitch. At the very end, Yunho popped open a theatrical bottle of champagne for all his guests to close out the celebration.

The backseat door closed just as Yunho ducked in with you, his hand waving out the window to San, Wooyoung, and Jongho passing by along the curb.

The alcohol had gradually made its way to your brain, and there was a light buzzing at the base of your skull that made you feel all warm and fuzzy. You yawned, leaning your head against Yunho's shoulder.

He chuckled, one of his hands coming up to gently pat your head. “Tired?”

“Mhm,” you hummed as your eyelids fluttered closed. “You didn't have to lie, y'know.”

You felt his shoulder tense under your cheek. If only you could feel the rapid beating in his chest, then he'd be as good as done.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied innocently, nimble fingers running over the chain links of his wristwatch.

Your eyes cracked open slowly. “Yunho.”

A beat passed, then he sighed. “Are you mad?” He asked quietly and his hand nearest to you found yours as he began to mindlessly inspect the chipped nail polish on your fingertips.

“No, silly. Why would I be mad?” When he didn't respond right away, you let out an exhale of your own. “I mean, I could tell you were nervous about me listening to the song all night. And if you weren't ready for me to listen to it yet, then I totally get that, and I'm okay with waiting. I just would rather you tell me that instead of make Hongjoong lie for you.”

He stopped playing with your fingers. “I'm sorry, for the record. Thank you for understanding.”

You hummed in reply.

The drive continued on with the accompaniment of a random radio station playing on low volume. You weren't going to fall asleep just yet with the alcohol still working its way through your system, but you kept your eyes closed nonetheless.

“I missed you, you know?” Were his first words to break the next silence.

A small smile wormed its way onto your face. “I missed you, too. I feel like we haven't seen each other in forever.”

He chuckled, the low sound rumbling through his chest and into your ear. “Texting can only take us so far. Isn't that crazy? We can't even survive a week without hanging out, but we're… we're about to be separated for so much longer timewise and distance-wise.”

You grumbled. “Don't remind me—wait. Has it really only been a week?” You peeked one eye open, a frown coming to your lips. “No way.”

Yunho smiled, shaking his head. “Believe it or not, stargirl. It's been only a week.”

“In-fucking-sane.”

“You're telling me.”

“How are we going to survive?” You pondered aloud, genuinely. If you couldn't fly out to see him within the first handful of tour stops, you and Yunho at the soonest wouldn't be able to see each other for three weeks. And if you couldn't escape your work duties and your PhD responsibilities, then it would be longer than that. “You're gonna have a closer relationship with your Valorant account than me.”

Yunho snorted. “I already have a closer relationship with my Valorant account than you.”

“Shucks.” You breathed out. “Guess I'll just text Hongjoong then. You know what he told me tonight when we were exchanging numbers? All eight of you nerds have a group chat and he gets ignored like a mom in a family chatroom.”

Your comment made a laugh tumble out of Yunho's mouth. “Did he make that analogy?”

“No, Seonghwa did when he overheard.”

A wheeze. “That tracks.” Yunho licked his lips as he turned his head slightly to glance down at you leaning on his shoulder. With his free hand, he warmed his palm over your head like he could keep you here forever. “So what's this about texting Joong?”

You shifted your position to get more comfortable and clung to his arm to press yourself closer. There was still a little ways to go before you reached your apartment. “I told him offhandedly that I wanna pick up a new hobby… something about crocheting or something, and apparently that guy is like… amazing at everything, so he's gonna help me out.”

“Ah.” The sound was quiet. “I'm glad you guys got along.”

You smiled to yourself. “Me too. He's really cool.”

“Not cooler than me though, right?”

You blindly reached over to pat his chest in warm reassurance. “Don't worry, big guy. I guess you're still the coolest guy I know.”

He clicked his tongue at you with a weak chiding, “Yah. You only guess? Don't tell Mingi that.”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of it.”

The Uber eventually pulled up along the curb outside your apartment complex. You lifted your head up from Yunho's shoulder and woke yourself up with a good stretch of your limbs.

He helped you out of the car, handing you your purse when you finally got your bearings. “Are you sure I can't walk you up? You look like your knees are about to buckle,” he chuckled.

You shook your head. The cool evening air was helping your brain to sober up. “No, no. Don't worry about it—I’m not as drunk as that one year.”

“Dear heart, how could I forget,” he teased. “Mingi still has the recording of when you begged to be bridal carried.”

Your face warmed at his mention of that memory and you wrinkled your nose at him. “I was gonna say ‘I love you’ along with goodnight, but I suppose not.”

Yunho froze. “What?”

Maybe you really weren't sobering up, because you didn't catch his strange reaction. “Nevermind,” you said flippantly. “Love you, Yun. Good night. Get home safe!”

He seemed to unfreeze, his lungs filling with breath again. A soft smile melted onto his pretty lips as he looked on toward you with a warm fondness. “Love you, too. Good night, Yn.”

He remained where he was outside the car door as he watched you dig your keys out from your purse and open the complex door. When you had one foot inside, you stopped, and turned back to him with a big grin on your face. “Hey!”

“Hey?” He laughed.

“I'm proud of you.”

For the thousandth time tonight, you made him lose his breath, his hold on reality. He swallowed—he wanted to kiss you. “I love you. Get some rest, stargirl.”

You waved to him in reply and he waved back. Then you disappeared through the door and left him there, his heart full and beating fast, the longing in his chest weighing heavier than before.

When you and Yunho were thirteen, you spent the longest period of time away from each other for the rest of your lives. It measured to about one summer break long when Yunho flew to South Korea to spend the entire vacation there and you could do nothing but chat with him via good, old fashioned e-mail.

Now that the two of you were older, even a couple days dragged on like an eternity. And because of your clashing and stacked schedules, a couple days almost always bled into a week.

A week since the release of Youth marked the inevitable release of its deluxe edition and the ever mysterious fourteenth track.

“Yn, wait, can you just help me finish this set of primers?”

You were this close to escaping the lab before one of your colleagues caught you. Taking a deep breath, you resolved to turn back and help them out. One less thing to worry about later, right? You could still listen to the track once you got home.

Except you couldn't, at least not right away. You saw the email on the bus ride home:

Hello TAs! One of your peers has unfortunately been involved in a motorbike accident early this evening. We have been informed that they will recover to full health, but because they are hospitalized, we will need to redistribute responsibilities regarding grades and as to who will cover their TA sections…

You skimmed down the email's contents, knowing you wouldn't be the one filling in as an actual TA. Because you were a first year graduate student in your first quarter, you opted to start off with grading work for now. But even if you didn't have to deal with a whole section of undergraduates, you could feel the blood drain from your face.

“You've gotta be shitting me,” you said, then slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized you'd said that aloud. You mouthed a sheepish “sorry” to a parent and her child nearby, then ducked your head to look at the contents once more.

There was no way they wanted—no, needed—all of those graded by tonight.

This was cruel and unusual punishment, but you knew you were going to do it anyway.

By the time you finished grading, shoveled dinner into your mouth, and took a therapeutically scalding hot shower, it was sometime past two in the morning. Thank fuck it was Saturday.

It was less than twelve hours later that you settled into the passenger seat of Yunho's Lexus sedan with a pair of shades covering your dehydrated, puffy eyes from the world and whatever paparazzi was stalking his car. Yunho glanced over at you with barely concealed amusement. “Well, good morning, princess.”

“You can't see it but I'm glaring at you,” you grunted as you strapped yourself in with the seatbelt. “I can't believe you wake up before noon now.”

“Unfortunately,” he chuckled, peeling his car away from the curb. After an unsatisfactory six hours of sleep, Yunho had woken you up with the obnoxiously loud sound of your phone ringing. You managed to negotiate for him to pick you up in two hours rather than half an hour—and now here you were. You never truly considered yourself a breakfast person and you would have happily slept all the way to lunch, but even through the exhaustion, you wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see you.

He would be gone by the end of the week, after all.

You leaned your head back against the headrest. “I used to have to lure you out of bed with the smell of bacon. Remember when you ate that entire plate of raw-ass bacon and pancake batter that Mingi made?”

Yunho let out a loud laugh that made you smile. He glanced over at you. “Bro,” he sighed, shaking his head, “you know I'll eat anything. Oh my gosh, I will never forget the horrified look on your face when you came out of the bathroom and found out what happened.”

“You looked like a kicked puppy when I told you that you shouldn't have eaten raw bacon,” you snorted. You'd felt so awful that Yunho was such a good eater who didn't complain; he didn't have any negative side effects afterward, thankfully, but you swore to never let Mingi in the kitchen or to let Mingi feed Yunho ever again, so long as you lived.

There was a café a few minutes drive from your apartment complex that the two of you liked to go to. It was a little hole in the wall, located on the second floor above a pet shelter, and the entrance could only be accessed through the stairs in the next-door alleyway.

Yunho adjusted the beanie over his bangs and you shifted your sunglasses up to the top of your head as you entered the establishment. There were a few people seated in the area to the right, but something you liked about this place was its hidden gem quality. (And the drinks and food they served, of course.)

“Hi, welcome in!” The barista behind the counter called before ducking behind the espresso machine. “Give me two seconds, and I'll be right with you.”

“No worries, take your time,” Yunho chirped back as he scoured the menu, eyes squinting and tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You had a general idea of what you wanted already, and you let Yunho know what it was before slipping off into the restroom.

By the time you emerged from the back hallway where the washrooms were, Yunho had finished ordering and was standing by one of the open two-seater tables by the far window with the soft autumn sunlight painting over his features. For a second, you stood at the opening of the hallway, just admiring him. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep making you envision the sunlight dancing around him as he sat down in one of the seats.

Heat rushed up your neck as your eyes met across the café. Gazes locked, you stood frozen, but a smile bloomed on your best friend's face like the coming of spring. It was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

And then he made a face, cocking his head to the side like a puppy with a question. 'Why are you just standing there?’ He seemed to ask.

You shook yourself out of whatever strange daze you'd slipped into, then walked over to join him.

“You okay?” He asked as you took the seat across from him, a teasing lilt to his voice, yet there was still concern in the curve of his mouth.

You waved said concern away. “Yeah. I think I'm still waking up or something.”

“Ah,” he nodded in understanding. He frowned. “What time did you go to sleep last night?”

“Like… some time past two.” On cue, you let out a large yawn, lifting your sleeve up to cover your mouth. “It's okay. I'll just sleep early tonight or something. One of the other TAs got into an accident, so we just had to do some make-up work and I just happened to get home late as it was.”

You could already see the guilt manifest on his face for waking you up, and you were swift to add, “I'll be fine with food and coffee, so 's alright. What about you? How'd you sleep last night?”

“I slept decently,” he replied, leaning forward to rest his cheek against his fist. “I didn't end up dropping the deluxe album, so it was a little more restful than—”

Your brain took a second to catch up. The… the deluxe album… oh. Your eyes went from half-mast to wide open. “You—you didn't release the deluxe? Sorry, I was so busy yesterday that I didn't check my socials.”

“Don't worry about it,” he said with a sheepish smile. “But yeah, I told my manager that I still wasn't ready to release it to the public just yet. I don't know when I'll postpone it to, but it probably won't come out until while I'm on tour.”

Ah. There was that disappointment settling in the pit of your stomach again. This wasn't about you, but why did it seem like he was avoiding your eventual listening to this song? He was almost always sending you audio files without prompting, so what made this one different?

Nonetheless, it wasn't your song. You would respect Yunho's privacy if he wanted to keep this one to himself and his friends.

You unconsciously rubbed your arm. “Oh okay. Yeah, I mean—take your time, Yun. I'm glad you don't feel pressured to release it when you aren't ready.”

His expression softened to something tender that made your chest feel fuzzy. “You'll listen to it soon, I promise.”

The barista called out Yunho's order number, and your friend stood up to go retrieve it. You sighed as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt and peered over your shoulder as a pair of newcomers asked him for his autograph and a picture. You watched the pleasant smile spread on Yunho's face as he conversed with them as easy as breathing air, alongside the faint blush over his cheekbones.

No, you didn't know what had gotten into you this morning.

“No, no. You have to loop it through this piece here—yeah, there you go.”

You were so concentrated on following Hongjoong's directions that you didn't even register the sound of Yunho's front door opening and closing. Hongjoong clicked his tongue and scooted closer so he could direct your hands and the crochet hook himself.

“Uhm… hey?”

Both yours and Hongjoong's heads whipped up at the sound of Yunho's confusion. He stood at the entrance to the living room area where, scattered all around you and Hongjoong, were clothes, toiletries, and other essentials laid out for Yunho to throw into his bags.

Tonight marked the evening before Yunho and the team were to set off on the Youth World Tour. Tomorrow, they would fly out sometime in the afternoon, which meant that you would have time to send them off before heading to work and class. However, because you hadn't seen Yunho since this past Saturday when he dragged your ass out of bed for breakfast, you invited yourself over to his apartment to oversee his packing. Hongjoong just so happened to be swinging by Yunho's apartment and you asked if he was up for an impromptu crocheting lesson.

Hongjoong arrived some time while Yunho ran out to the Chinese place down the block to grab dinner, and the two of you had been hunched over the ball of yarn and hook ever since.

“Oh, you're back!” You exclaimed. In your distracted state, Hongjoong took the opportunity to take the crochet piece from you and subtly fix the mistakes you made.

Yunho's brows creased, eyes darting from you to Hongjoong as he slowly placed the takeout bags on the semi-cleared coffee table. “Yeah… Joong, when did you get here?”

You leaned forward to help clear off the rest of the coffee table and to also assist in unpacking all of the takeout containers. Yunho shucked the baseball cap he was wearing off to the side, carding a hand through his dark locks.

“Like… seven minutes ago,” he replied cheekily. His mouth curled into something mischievous as he locked eyes with Yunho. “I can leave, though, if you wanted to be alone—”

“Hyung—”

“I'm messing with you,” he snickered as he handed you the yarn and hook. “I only came by to drop off the emergency backup files hard drive and to give Yn-ie a sneak peek of her crocheting lessons to come.”

(Yunho's eyes narrowed a millimeter. Yn-ie?)

You set the unfinished crochet square down on the couch to walk Hongjoong to the door. “Are we still on for tomorrow, by the way?”

“What's tomorrow?” Yunho twisted around where he was seated on the floor to watch you and Hongjoong make your way to the front door.

“You,” said Hongjoong with raised eyebrows at your best friend, “are going on a plane with everyone else. Because I'm not leaving until the day after tomorrow, Yn and I are bonding over lunch after we see you all off.”

You and Hongjoong finished up finalizing plans in the doorway, followed by amiable farewells. Yunho called out a “good night” to his friend as Hongjoong slipped out the door, and left you and him to the apartment by yourselves.

You claimed the spot on the floor next to him and accepted the pair of wooden chopsticks he extended to you. “I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to invite him in. I probably should've asked,” you said sheepishly as you snapped the chopsticks apart.

“Oh, no, he's been over quite a few times, so it's all good,” he replied swiftly. “I just didn't expect you two to be so close.” He added a laugh at the end that sounded more nervous to him than it was supposed to.

“We've been texting back and forth, but I guess so. Nothing like the two of you,” you jested, lifting your eyebrows up and bumping your elbow against his.

Yunho grinned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“You guys spend all that time together in the studio—WHA—NO! Keep those hands to yourself!” You shrieked, rolling out of the way to dodge his hands that threatened to tickle you into submission. Yunho had thrown his head back in a carefree laugh, a beautiful expression in itself, that had you reciprocating.

When you were sure he wasn't going to attack you (affectionately), you scooted back over to your original spot next to him. He smiled to himself at the sidelong glance you casted him, and he went and grabbed one carton of rice for himself and the other for you.

“Thank you for dinner, by the way,” you told him as you opened up your carton, his somehow already opened and spilling over with food.

You once again caught him with his mouth full, and Yunho swallowed the bite of food he had before replying. “Yeah, man. Of course.”

“I swear that I will definitely get the next meal we have—”

“Yn.” He touched the back of his hand against your arm to draw your attention to him. “You literally were the one to make sure I made it out of college alive, like, I can never thank you enough for how much you did for me then and continue to do for me now.”

You swallowed, suddenly blown back by the way he looked at you right now. “I did it because I care about you, Yun. It's not something I expect to be repaid for.”

“I know,” he said with a nod, lips pulled into a tender smile that made your stomach do flips. This was the look no one else got to see from him. Sure, he could fill stadiums of people who would see his big, bright grin that shone brighter than the sun, but… but this one, this smile, was yours. “That goes the same toward this meal, okay?”

Yunho notched his finger under your chin and tilted your head up slightly to meet his eyes. “Don't worry about it.”

You set your carton of rice and chopsticks on the table, he copied your movements, and you wrapped each other in your mutual embraces. The startling realization that you wouldn't see him for longer than a week from tomorrow onward rushed toward you like the coming of a tide to shore. Before you knew it, the water was up to your knees, and you—what were you going to do without him here?

“I miss you already,” you whispered.

You felt him squeeze you tighter, nose pressed against the side of your neck. “I won't be gone too long.” A promise.

“Thank god Seonghwa and Wooyoung can cook.” At the sound of his snort from above your head, you squawked out in your defense, “Who else is gonna make you bacon and pancakes in the morning when you’re dead tired?”

“Hey! I can fry bacon, I’ll have you know!”

You pulled away from him so he could see the look of pure disbelief on your face. “Okay, rockstar. I believe you.”

He scrunched his nose up at you. “That’s not very convincing.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Yunho scoffed, reaching over to flick your nose. You let out a sound of indignation and rubbed your nose, a scowl on your face at Yunho’s very pleased expression. And even if you were currently conspiring on how to get back at him, you couldn’t help but resolve something right that second—you would do everything in your power to see his show in two weeks’ time—to see Yunho in two weeks’ time.

The thing about cheap plane tickets was that the cheaper you bought them, the less “amenities” that it came with. The one you’d purchased specifically for two weeks in the future did not allow you a refund. This meant that if something were to arise, you would be a good several hundred dollars poorer, and your plans to surprise Yunho at his show would fall completely through the floor.

Good thing you weren’t about to let that happen, right? …Right?

“You’re sick.” Those were your roommate Trinity’s first words to you as you stumbled out of your bedroom and found her perched on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. She fixed you with an unimpressed look as she stirred around her morning coffee.

“I’m not—” Your own response was cut off by one very untimely cough into your elbow. You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste at the back of your throat. Great. “—sick.”

“And I’m Oprah,” she deadpanned.

“You could be.” Did you really sound as much like a dying walrus as you thought you did? Holy shit.

She stood up from her stool, setting her coffee cup on the counter, then walked over to you to direct you back into your room. “I’m not permitting you exit from this apartment until you're better. Back to bed with you.”

“But—”

“No buts! If you wanna still be able to fly by the end of this week, then you have to get better, Yn.”

You really, unfortunately, could not argue with that. Nearly a week and a half had passed since Yunho started touring. Opening night had been a massive success, as you’d seen the broadcast and read the reviews on social media. In the concert photos and videos slowly being released online, there was no doubt in your mind that Yunho belonged onstage. He was radiant as a diamond in each depiction of him, and he sounded better and better each night.

Suffice to say, you were beyond proud and happy for him.

In order to make your surprise successful, you informed Yunho’s team of your plans so they could help you get into the concert once you arrived. Your part consisted mainly of finishing all of your work ahead of schedule so you weren’t swamped when you got back. It was nearing the end of the term, meaning there was lots to grade and study, but when you had a goal, you were determined.

The only downside was that, between the long days and nights of work, your body couldn’t fight against the swift rush of early winter air that swept through the city in the past week. Your working hours stretched out longer and longer until your body just… gave up. Or at least, it was giving up.

After calling in sick to your workplace, you crashed back into bed for what you hoped to be a restful nap. Maybe when you woke up, this would all just turn out to be a 24-hour fever.

(It was not a 24-hour fever.)

You didn't even know what time it was when you woke up groggy and your head pounding like there was an active construction site taking place in your skull. Your bedroom was dark, and the world outside your window was also dark. The sound of your phone ringing drilled into your cranium, and you groaned as you felt around your mess of blankets and sheets for wherever that damned thing was—

“Hello?” You croaked into the receiver when you finally grabbed ahold of your phone.

There was a pause on the other end, and you were about to ask who it was when they responded. “Oh my god. You're sick.”

Your heart leapt into your throat at the sound of your best friend's voice and you shoved your face into the pillow. “I'm not sick.”

“Yn, sweetheart, you literally have the sexy sick voice.”

“You think I'm sexy?” You asked in a drowsy, unwell daze. “But anyways, I'm not—” You lifted your face into your elbow in time to practically hack out your lungs. You groaned. “Okay, maybe I am sick.”

Could things get any worse?

You could hear the frown in his voice. “You sound like my worst nightmare.”

“Am I sexy or your worst nightmare? You need to pick an adjective.” You whimpered as you struggled to pull yourself up into a sitting position.

“At least I know it did nothing to that attitude of yours,” he laughed. He sobered for a moment when he heard you groan as the blood rushed to your head. “Hey, do you have meds with you? I can order some and have them there in half an hour.”

You waved him off, even though he wouldn't be able to see. “No, it's okay. I should have taken an ibuprofen before I crashed. I'm sure we've got extra Nyquil around here somewhere…”

You attempted to stand up, a swear falling from your mouth as the vertigo hit you and sent you tumbling back down onto the edge of the bed.

“Yn, I'm sending you medicine—and dinner. That one bistro near your apartment is still open, right? I'll let Trinity know that deliveries are on the—Yn?”

You lifted your head and broke out of your return to unconsciousness. “Hm? Sorry… I did not hear anything you just said.” You rubbed your hand down your face and scooped your phone up to make your way out of your room. You somehow made it to the door, and you leaned against the doorjamb as you pushed out into the dark hallway. “You don't have to send anything, Yun. Trinity's studying for her law school finals, so I don't wanna bother her. Plus…”

You opened up the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and bit back a sigh of disappointment. No cold medicine. There was pain medication, at least, so that should hopefully help you fall asleep again.

At your lack of words, Yunho asked, “No medicine?”

“No, I have some medicine,” you countered. “Just—not the right ones.” Before you could swallow any pills, you hacked out another lung into your elbow; you swore your coughs were sounding worse and worse.

“You know what? I'm flying home—”

You slammed the pill bottle on the bathroom counter. “Don't—what? Yunho, do not fly home. It's literally just a little—” You coughed, “—cold. You have another show in two days. If you show up on my doorstep, I'm not opening the door.”

From the silence on his end, you knew he wasn't in total agreement with you. Maybe the bottle slamming was a little much, but his statement had surprised you. It didn't make sense for him to drop everything for you when you were experiencing something so trivial as a cold.

Not unkindly, you said to him, “I appreciate the concern, but you have bigger things to worry about and care about.”

“You will always be the most important thing I care about.”

His admission was so sincere that your heart gave a violent palpitation in your chest. You struggled to swallow, and it wasn't just because your throat was sore. “And I feel the same way about you,” you murmured, “but I can take care of myself, okay? I'll be back to normal in no time.”

You heard a sigh from his end. “I know; you're right. I just… wish I was there with you right now.”

You could understand that—it was how you felt. But some things couldn't be helped, and Yunho needed to be where he was and you needed to be where you were. You could hold down the fort while he was gone taking over the world by storm.

You closed the bathroom door to give an extra barrier between your voice and where Trinity was studying in her room. After knocking back a couple painkillers, you seated yourself on the floor with your back against the bathtub and your knees pulled up to your chest. “You know what's kind of ironic?” You coughed into your elbow and wrestled down another one bubbling up in your throat. You shouldn't have been speaking so much, but you could deal with the repercussions later. “I think I freaked out when you said you were going to fly home, not just because that's insane, but also because I was going to surprise you by flying out to your show in a couple days.”

He sucked in a breath. “You were gonna come surprise me?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, swiping at your nose and tucking your chin to your knees. Then you had to go and screw it all up, and you couldn't even get your money back. You pretty much accepted that you weren't going to be better by the time the day rolled around, especially not for travel. “I'm sorry I couldn't come see you.”

“No, don't be sorry!” He cooed. “I'm—I’m really sorry you're sick and I'm sad you couldn't make it, but… but think of it this way, hm? As soon as you get better, I'll fly you out to whatever city I'm in and we can hang out and you can come to the concert. All you have to do is get better for me.”

You didn't know if your schedule would allow after this setback, but you were going to remain optimistic. With a small glimmer of hope peering through your chest, you replied, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he said, and you could hear the fond smile in his voice.

“By the way,” you began, and had to clear your throat from how congested it was getting. Maybe some hot tea would do you good. You clambered to your feet to get out of this bathroom and do just that. “Was there a reason you called originally or was it just to say hi?”

A beat of hesitation passed between your question and his answer. “Ah…” There was a wince in his voice, “I, uhm, called because I wanted to know if you'd seen something online, but obviously you haven't 'cause you were asleep, but…”

Seen something online? Your movements with your electric kettle paused. Had someone posted something about Yunho? “What is it, Yun?” Who's ass did you need to beat?

“Seonghwa hyung found out that someone leaked the hidden track online a few hours ago.”

You leaned your cheek against your palm, eyebrows knitting together. “Shit, dude. I'm so sorry,” you said with a frown. That meant some rando on the internet had hacked into someone's files and leaked the song.

A sharp exhale from Yunho's end. “Yeah, I dunno. We're working on getting it taken down right now, but in the event it can't be done soon enough, I think I'm just gonna release the deluxe version in a couple hours.”

It seemed by his response that it wasn't the hacking that was his primary concern. Leaked, unreleased songs happened to every major artist in the industry, and it had most definitely happened to Yunho before this. But this time�� this time felt different. You knew how hesitant he was to release this, and having the track get released to the public on terms that weren't his? Well, that just wasn't fair.

“You don't,” you said softly, reaching for a mug in the top cabinet to plop your tea bag into, “have to release it officially right now. You can still wait until you're comfortable.”

You heard sounds of shuffling on his end, followed by the sound of a door opening. You thought you heard Yeosang's voice as he murmured something to Yunho. The exchange was swift, but it reminded you that your time with your best friend here was limited.

“Do you need to go?” You asked, trying to cover up your hope that he didn't have to with nonchalance.

He hummed. “It's okay, I have a few minutes left. They want me to 'okay’ a couple things out on set, but that can wait. Uhm… as for what you said about releasing it—I,” he sighed, “I think this was the push I needed to finally drop it, y'know? I think either way I was going to be scared for—for people to hear it—for you to hear it. But uhm… yeah. That's all I wanted to say. I think it'll probably be released whenever you wake up.”

You poured the hot water of your tea bag, setting the kettle down gently. Letting the steam rise up to help clear your congestion, you could finally think a little clearer now. “I'm sorry this didn't happen on your terms.”

“I appreciate that. I hope you like the song—I… I really hope you like the song.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “I'm going to like the song, rockstar. You have nothing to worry about, I promise.”

He let out a small laugh and the sound of his happiness, however big or small, made your chest feel heavy. “I’ve missed you so much,” he rasped out. “So much.”

You pressed your forehead to your fist, willing the prickling feeling of tears at bay. “I wish I was there—I’ve wished I was there with you the moment you left. But I'm so, so proud of you. I know I've said this before, but you belong on that stage, Yunho. I'll be there… I'm always there in spirit.”

“You can't say that and expect me not to fly my ass home right now.”

You sputtered out a laugh, which was probably a bad idea, because it led to an utter disaster of a coughing fit. When you finally managed to get a reign on things, you picked up your mug of tea and took a couple ginger sips. It was still piping hot, but whatever scalding temperature it was at somehow soothed your throat and your head.

You set the cup down. “Again, I'll be there in no time, I promise.”

“You swear on your life?”

You sighed, but you pressed your lips into a smile. “I swear on my life.”

Yunho's departure from this call was imminent, and so you made further promises to get plenty of rest and to take care of yourself. You only did so when he promised to do the same for himself. Just after you both hung up, you received a text message from him: Stay up for five more minutes!! The delivery's almost there.

You huffed out a rough-sounding laugh, and bit your tongue around a smile. Of course he had still ordered you stuff. You shook your head to settle on one of the kitchen stools to nurse your tea and wait for the delivery to get here.

When the driver was safely out of bounds of your door, you poked your head out into the hallway to grab the paper bags seated on your doorstep. You had only expected medicine and maybe dinner, but not only were there cold medicines, orange juice, and hot soup from the bistro down the street, but there was a bouquet of flowers there, too.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you pulled everything into the safety of your apartment. Damn Jeong Yunho and his gestures. It didn't mean anything—they were just Get Well Soon flowers, but why did you kind of wish they were more than that?

The Youth album's fourteenth track entitled your space hit the charts at number two. By the time you woke up, still sick as hell, the track had been officially released for about eight hours. You rolled over in bed to guzzle down half a bottle of water and cold medicine, then grabbed your phone.

It seemed that social media blew up while you were asleep. The deluxe drop was trending under a couple different tags, and based on initial skims, you were happy to report that most had everything good to say about it.

Though, some of the commentary made you pause. He has to be seeing someone, said one user. Look at these lyrics. These could only be produced by a man in love.

You had to swipe out of the app at that point. Instead, you went over to yours, Yunho's, and Mingi's group chat together where Mingi and Yunho had waged a meme war while you were asleep after Mingi wished you a “Get Better Soon” message. You sent back your own meme in response and opened your music streaming app to find track fourteen.

The boys would probably all be asleep by now, so they wouldn't respond any time soon.

You found your space exactly where you thought it would be, at the very bottom of the deluxe album. You sat yourself up against your headboard, plugged your earbuds in, then hit play.

If only you knew how much it would rock your world.

Hongjoong was never wrong about his hunches. It had been about a week and a half since you came down with an awful cold and couldn't make it to your intended surprise show, and slightly less than that since the deluxe album dropped. Even before the tour started, life was a whirlwind, but now that the tour was only ramping up further from this point, it had been nothing short of a total rush.

Different cities every week, at least two nights a city—all of it took a toll on both the staff and artist involved. Hongjoong's hunch, however, regarded the artist in particular as he watched said artist keep his smile up to say goodnight to the remainder of the stadium workers who lingered for cleanup. Yesterday was their last show date in this city, and today, Yunho and his team had come by to help load everything up for transport to their next destination. Tomorrow, they would fly out and be in the next city to begin preparing for the next round.

But as Yunho began making his way toward the exit where Hongjoong was waiting for him, it was impossible to miss the immediate exhaustion that flooded his features. He carded a hand through his hair as he checked his phone, then pocketed it in the back pocket of his pants.

“Hey,” Yunho nodded to Hongjoong as he met him at the exit and they both walked out into the chilly evening together. There was already a car waiting at the curb to take them back to their hotel—there was still so much that needed to be done before they left for the airport tomorrow.

“Hey,” he said back. “Everything okay?”

Yunho glanced over at him. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine; just tired. I think it's a good thing I started packing before we came here earlier,” he mused. For him to pack early? A miracle.

Hongjoong bobbed his head in understanding. “Yeah, I get that, but that's not really—you know you can be honest with me, right? I know this has all been… a lot.” And Hongjoong would understand; he had been in the public eye for so long now, and all of that could be so incredibly draining. From catering to fans and journalists and sponsors, it could be difficult finding himself amongst all that mess.

Plus, Yunho had the added bit of being away from home for a very long time. From what Hongjoong understood, Yunho only used to tour relatively close to home, and when it was farther, it was during his school breaks. He also knew that you were an integral part of Yunho's sanity, and that even before he reached this level of fame, you were his rock, his anchor, his ground control.

Being away from you for so long was beginning to show. When Hongjoong brought it up offhandedly to Mingi, Mingi was swift to agree.

“I—” Yunho began as he slipped into the passenger seat and Hongjoong into the back of the car. He murmured a soft greeting to the driver before strapping himself in with a seatbelt. “—it definitely has been hard,” he admitted with a sigh. “I don't know, Joong. You know that rush you get while onstage, but it just comes crashing down a couple hours later? Like the adrenaline leaves you all at once and all you crave for is home?”

Hongjoong pursed his lips, watching Yunho lean the side of his head against the window as he watched the world pass by. “Yeah, I do,” he said quietly. “The moments between all the rush and excitement, you're no longer distracted from how much it all is.”

A nod. “Yeah.”

“You miss her?” It was less of a question and more so a statement. Hongjoong's hunches were never incorrect. It was both a blessing and a curse.

Yunho's quiet was answer enough.

Hongjoong played around with the back of his phone case. He knew you had listened to the song—he’d asked Yunho and you'd texted Hongjoong, too. Yunho reported that you gushed about the song and affirmed him in all his choices and lyricism as always, but he was certain that you didn't get it. But when you had run to Hongjoong questioning your own feelings and if Yunho had been scared to tell you if he was in love with someone, Hongjoong could confidently say that you did get it, just not one hundred percent.

There was still miscommunication in the message, but he knew that was only something that the two of you could sort out.

“Have you guys talked since last week?”

“Yeah, we have. She's been…” He pushed a breath out of his mouth, “... She's been working her ass off trying to make up for the amount of time she was sick. I don't even know how she isn't getting sick again. I mean—all the shit she has to weather through—I wish I could help.”

And he couldn't, not like how he wanted to, not from so far away. Maybe that was what was eating him up inside the most, besides the fact he believed his feelings to be unrequited.

The car pulled up to the back entrance of the hotel Yunho and his team were staying at for the time being. The two of them thanked the driver on their way out, and they were swiftly greeted by employees coming out of the back for their breaks.

When they reached the warmth of their hotel floor's hallway, Yunho said to Hongjoong, “I miss her so much.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his Youth World Tour hoodie, eyes lined in silver. “I worry about her so much, too. I'm sure she worries just as much about me and I know that she's more than capable about taking care of herself—’cause god, she was the one who kept me afloat all these years, and I—”

I love her.

He slapped his key card against the reader and shoved into his hotel room with Hongjoong trailing after with a sympathetic frown on his face.

“It just feels wrong sometimes when I can't be with her. Is that crazy?”

Hongjoong settled a warm hand on Yunho's shoulder as the latter sat down on the edge of his bed. “It's not crazy,” he said. He'd felt like that about a person, once upon a time. After everything Hongjoong had gone through with his last relationship, one might think he didn't believe in love, but he was still clawing for it. He wanted something that he could see manifesting between you and Yunho. He wanted to help you reach that.

He sighed and sat down next to him. “It's completely valid to feel this way, y'know? She's been a huge part of your life and your passions, and for you to see all this without her seems incomplete.”

Yunho nodded. “Yeah.”

“You can go home whenever you want, you realize that?” Hongjoong asked. “We have time built into each week to give you rest days, man. We can make that work.” It might be a little tiring for so much travel, but one trip back wouldn't hurt, especially when it could help his mental state more than simply powering through.

“I know,” he replied. “I don't… I just feel like I want her to see that I can do this, that she didn't put her trust and energy into someone who would fall so fast—”

“Do you seriously believe she would think about you that way?”

Yunho's expression shuddered, and he let out a shaky breath as he shook his head.

Hongjoong arched his brow. “Exactly. She would never fault you for needing a break. Being human is not a sign of weakness, Yunho. She's your best friend—I think she has more forgiveness and compassion for you than that.”

Yunho swallowed. Of course what Hongjoong said was right. You wouldn't look at him any different if he needed a break; it was just a thing about being kinder to himself. But sometimes it was hard to put that into perspective, and perhaps he just needed someone to do that for him.

With no good choice made without a decent night of sleep, Hongjoong bid Yunho goodnight.

As soon as Hongjoong slipped out of his friend's room, he sighed and mentally calculated what time it would be where you were. You should have been awake.

And awake, you definitely were.

You would be lying if you said you hadn't been listening to the song your space on repeat for the past week and a half. Even as you sat in one of the campus dining halls doing work and eating your crappy sandwich for lunch, your headphones were spilling with your best friend's gorgeous croons.

You questioned everything at the same time. You'd figured out two days after you first heard it that you were in love with your best friend.

The lyrics had resonated with you, and you had come to the startling conclusion that you felt the song's meaning toward Yunho.

All you could do since was freak the fuck out and tell Yunho that the song was incredible. You didn't know who the song was for or about, but you knew it was important to him because of how scared he was to release it. Had he been scared to tell you he was in love with someone? Why?

Sometimes you found yourself tearing apart the lyrics like a rabid trash panda.

I couldn't ever leave you behind They couldn't ever take me away Baby, if I could pick a heaven on Earth It would be anywhere in your space.

You broke away from your work and sandwich to the sound of a text notification. Suddenly remembering how loud your vibration ringer was, you silenced it, then opened up Hongjoong's message: I know you're probably moping and eating a shitty sandwich—what. You glanced down at said shitty sandwich that sat in its equally sad plastic container. How did he know…? —and he's not doing well either. He's miserable, dude.

Everything slowed for you, and it was no longer about your so-called epiphany. You felt your entire body and mood drop at the news. You'd seen social media posts commenting on Yunho's stage presence and brightness never fading, but there were always the one or two who noted something along the lines of him seeming too tired or that perhaps he didn't have enough stamina for this.

The latter comments made your blood pressure spike, but there was, unfortunately, some truth to it. You just didn't think it was this bad.

You pressed the backs of your knuckles against your eyes. You hadn't been doing the best, clearly, and you knew that it was largely because you missed him. Being away from someone you considered home for so long meant that you were bound to get homesick.

You didn't know what to do. There was so much work to be done, and you had just caught up. On top of that, you were short a few hundred dollars from the last time you tried to fly out.

Another message buzzed in from Hongjoong: I think you guys really need to talk.

The organ in your chest rattled around in its cage; it longed to be with its partner. You were starting to understand that now.

The song playing in your ear was slowly petering out, and all you could hear was his voice.

And I've kinda been wanting to ask if we can Skip the 'why’ and get to the 'our’ Because baby, I love your space But I love ours more.

Yunho had not flown home that week. Some emergencies had sprung up as soon as they landed in their new city, and all bets were off to be able to go home. All that he could do was buckle down and get comfortable. Even so, he knew how to make the best out of a situation.

As he stood at the very center of the main stage, he held a hand up to shield his eyes from the bright spotlights shining down on him now.

“Is that better?” Hongjoong's voice echoed throughout the near-empty stadium.

From one of the balconies, Jongho cupped his hands up around his mouth to scream at the top of his lungs, “LOOKS GOOD, HYUNG!”

“Jongho,” Yunho chuckled into his microphone, “did someone not get you a headset, bro?”

A beat passed, and then, “NO.”

Mildly amused laughter cropped up around the stadium in reaction to the youngest's troubles. It was little moments like these where Yunho could forget for one second just how tiring all of this amounted to become. His smile was genuine, and his tongue darted out to trace his teeth—

“Jeong Yunho, put your damn tongue away.”

Yunho's eyes went as wide as saucers, his expression morphing into something like childlike surprise as he immediately retracted his tongue into his mouth. But in the split second it took his brain to process the words that had been said, he also recognized the voice who'd said them. From the big screen, any one of the staff members or you could see the way his face stretched into the widest grin possible, his eyes lighting up like spotlights.

He lifted the mic in his hand up to his lips as he tilted his eyes up to the sound and lighting box far up in the stands. From where he was onstage, he could just make out the shape of you in the box next to Hongjoong—the sneaky bastard. “Ln Yn, get your ass down here right now,” he said, hardly able to contain the excitement in his voice.

You didn't need to be told twice.

You raced down the stadium steps from the box, your legs carrying you as fast as humanly possible without falling. Yunho leapt off the stage and left his microphone behind to meet you in the middle.

Somewhere between the pit and mezzanine, you flew into his arms and he caught you, spinning you around. The glee on both of your faces was enough to make everyone stop and appreciate the tangible love before them. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you pursed your lips to subdue them. You squeezed him as tight as you possibly could; his arms held you firmly around your waist, head tucked into the joint between your neck and shoulder.

“You're here,” he croaked with tears in his voice now. You heard him sniffle, and only held him tighter. He felt the added strength and let out a sob. “I missed you so much.”

Oh, for fuck's sake—you started bawling like a baby. “I—” you sucked in a breath, “—I heard—so I booked a flight—”

This only caused his body to tremble harder. “Oh god… Yn… I…”

You sniffled and brushed your hand over the back of his head in an attempt to get both of you to calm down. “Hey, don't worry about it, okay? It doesn't matter; you know I'd drop everything for you.” When his only response was to press his wet eyes against the heat of your neck, you blinked away your tears. “Plus, I missed you, too, rockstar.”

Yunho let out a watery laugh, gently setting you down onto solid ground. You both looked like a hot mess and a half: snot dripping out of your noses, eyes red and drowned in salty tears. The adrenaline rush from the surprise had trickled out of your system, but your heartbeat continued to rattle around in your chest with reckless abandon. His messy, damp hair; the wobbly shine in his dark brown irises; the way he smiled at you with that something on his face… he was everything to you.

“Glad to know the feeling's mutual,” he said, nudging you with his elbow, then pawing at his eyes to wipe the tears away.

“Good to see you, Yn!” San piped up from the stage with his microphone. He had picked up Yunho's microphone from where he'd abandoned it to come meet you.

You laughed, lifting a hand up in a wave. “Hey, San! Hi everyone!”

Chimes of greetings from all the other boys and staff members cropped up from all around the arena.

Yunho brushed a hand through his hair and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Did all you fuckers know about this?”

Mingi was perched on the ledge of the stage. His grin seemed to be the widest after watching your reunion. He tugged the microphone attached to his earpiece closer to his mouth. “Don't tell us you're not grateful now.”

“Nah, I'm just surprised Wooyoung was able to keep his mouth shut.”

Wooyoung didn't need a microphone to let you all know of his offense. You could hear his squawk of disapproval all the way from where you stood—crazy how acoustics worked.

Yunho heard your laugh from beside him, and he glanced over at you to catch the fond look on your face. He hadn't stopped smiling for the past five minutes, and it didn't matter how much his cheeks hurt. You were here; that was all that mattered.

“This place is—” you marveled as the two of you began walking down the stairs together toward the stage. The backs of your hands brushed against one another, breaths away from touching, from lacing, from being together. “—huge. It's so much more—” You felt your lip wobble again, “I don't even know why I'm getting emotional. It's all you dreamed of as a kid, wasn't it?”

The tears pricked at the edges of his eyes again, and the two of you looked back at each other with equally wet eyes and bright smiles. “Yeah,” he nodded, swiping at his eyes.

“You deserve it.”

“All thanks to you,” he said with a sniffle, hugging you to him again. You were solid and real beneath his fingertips—he was so happy you were here. This was where you belonged; none of this felt right without you.

When you finally reached the bottom of the pit, Yunho had to run back up to the stage, and you went through the aisles until you found your perfect seat. It wasn't long before Mingi bounded up the steps to come join you. He brought you in for a long awaited hug of his own.

“What's good, Yn?” He asked with a soft chuckle as he pulled away and settled in the seat to your left.

Just ahead, Yunho appeared onstage with his microphone in hand, and the two of you lifted your hands in sync to wave to your best friend.

You adjusted your bag in your lap, and clasped a hand on Mingi's shoulder. “This is surreal. Does it feel surreal?”

Mingi's lips pulled into a smile as nostalgia made his vision cloudy. “It does, every single time. I'm glad you're finally here—we’re all very happy that you're here now.”

You bumped your head against his shoulder and let it rest there for a moment, and his hand came up to gently pat your head to tell you he understood. You didn't need to say anything.

For the next hour and a half, you and Mingi got to watch Yunho and everyone else run through the last of the day's lighting checks. Periodically, someone else from Yunho's personal team would come and sit with the two of you, then leave quickly when they had something else on their to-do list.

At last, when the session wrapped up and everyone was sent to go home for an early night, you rushed down to meet with Yunho again.

He waited for you to be at his side before leading you down toward backstage. “There's a couple things I need to grab in my dressing room before we can head back to the hotel.” A thought suddenly interrupted his thoughts and his eyes widened. “Do you have accommodations? Please tell me you do.”

“Don't worry—I promise I'm not sleeping on the streets,” you teased. You'd figured all of that out pretty last minute with Hongjoong and Mingi's help.

Yunho nodded, a smile coming to his face. “Okay, good. I was gonna offer my room and I could sleep on the pullout couch.”

The thought of sleeping in the same room as him made your skin warm, and if you hadn't realized your feelings for him before, you would be confused as to why you were so flustered at the thought now. It wouldn't be the first time you had a sleepover. But this would be… different. Oh lord.

The backstage hallways were scarce and dimly lit in order to save energy, but it was enough to guide you and Yunho's way to the star dressing room. You swallowed as you reached the door—the facade plastered with a pretty, gold star with his name on it—and followed him inside.

“Hey, Yun?” You asked him as you lingered by the door and he rushed around to grab his things. The room was decently spacious, and definitely larger than all the other ones from his past tours.

“Mhm?”

“Could we… talk about something?”

He glanced back over his shoulder as he threw things into his bag. “Yeah, ‘course.”

You toed at the polished ground, fingers twisting and wringing in front of you. “It’s about the song. The, uhm, the your space one.”

His movements paused. He looked up and connected gazes with you through the vanity mirror in front of him. Yunho cleared his throat and ducked his head to zip up his bag. “What—what about it?” He asked, shouldering his bag and meeting you back at the door.

He seemed unable to look you in the eyes directly now as he closed the door behind the both of you as you stepped out into the empty hallway.

“I just,” you stammered. Blood rushed up to your face and you could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “I needed to know—I didn’t need to know—it’s your life and your song, and you have every right to have feelings for someone without me knowing. And I think I’m asking this for selfish reasons, but… are you seeing someone?”

The question caught him off guard, his eyes blowing wide open. “Wh—no. No, I am not seeing anyone. Why do you ask?”

“The song—I know I shouldn’t be indulging in what people on the internet say, much less in the opinions of those who don’t even know you, but I couldn’t help but agree with them when they say the lyrics, the—the feeling of the song—you’re in love, and I—” Your breath caught in your throat as you choked on the words lodged there: And I am in love with you.

Yunho pushed an exhale out of his mouth and stepped toward you. So much shone in his eyes right then, and it didn’t matter how much light there was in this damn hallway, his eyes would always glitter like twin diamonds. “I am in love with someone. Yn, I’m in love with you,” he said. “I thought that the song would make it obvious, which is why I was so scared for you to hear it, but I realize now that this was just something I should have said outright.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest and it wasn’t from the nerves anymore. God, your knees felt like buckling from the force of the tenderness in his eyes alone. “You’re—you’re in love with me?”

“I am,” he nodded. He slowly reached for your hands and clasped them within his own. “I’ve been in love with you since that day you ran out of Science Olympiad practice to come to my audition; I’ve been in love with you from the moment you yelled at me for not being ambidextrous and I had beef jerky in my mouth—”

“I did not yell at you!”

He broke out into a cheeky, yet fond grin, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face with his hand. “I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t imagine what life was like before I was in love with you—and yes, you did yell, but you can yell at me as much as you like, and I would still be head-over-heels for you.”

Your lip curled in on itself at all of his words, at everything he was revealing to you now. You wished you had known—oh, god, you wish you had known. You didn’t know if things would have been different, but for some reason, you had a feeling that all paths might have led here nonetheless.

You squeezed his hand between your own now. “You’re everything to me, Jeong Yunho,” you rasped out, unable to put strength behind your voice for fear of all of the emotion about to spill out. “And I’m so stupid for taking so long to figure it all out, but I’m in love with you, too, and I’d be damned if I let another day pass without you knowing that.”

Something washed over him in that moment, and he laughed, leaning over to cup the back of your neck and rest his forehead against your own. It was ridiculous, the fact that both of you were giggling and smiling at such a precipice of emotion, but it felt right.

You could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips as he murmured, “Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad.”

“Then come kiss me, rockstar,” you said, looping your arms around his neck. You drew him down to your mouth and felt his body mold against your own. Every crevice and curve slotted so perfectly with one another, and the heavy longing in your chest slowly eased.

“You guys have been incredible for me tonight—” Yunho beamed as he walked toward the front, center stage and looped the electric guitar strap over his head to the sound of the roaring crowd, “—so I've got a little surprise for you.”

One of the staff members had set out a mic stand and bottle water for him, and he approached both items to fit the microphone into place. Tonight was the Friday night concert being held in this city, and the energy was dialed to one thousand in all the best ways.

He held onto the microphone with one hand. “This song is dedicated to—written for—my best friend in the world, the love of my life, my stargirl. I'm sure you know it—you crazies debuted it at number two on the charts—this is your space.”

His smile tugged up wider at the reaction he received. If anyone in the crowd didn't know the song, they were about to fall in love.

Yunho laughed, shaking his head, as he began checking to make sure his guitar was tuned with practiced, nimble fingers. “Oh, by the way—” he pointed up at the accessory he wore, the crocheted headband holding his hair up and out of his face, with a row of stars across its band, “—she made this for me. Isn't it cute?”

The stadium echoed in choruses of “aw” and cheers.

He could only duck his head with a smile, eyes twinkling with fondness and tenderness at the thought of you. You were in the crowd, but you could be up here with him in spirit. “Yeah, that was me, too.”

After you and Yunho left the stadium yesterday, hands intertwined and a new page in your relationship turned, you’d gone back to his hotel to share a restful evening in one another’s presences. You revealed later that night that you spent the four or five days you were bedridden practicing your crocheting skills until you were able to make him a headband. A row of three stars studded the length of it—stars for your rockstar.

Yunho struck his fingers down the strings of his guitar with a gentle rocking motion from his opposite hand to let the sound reverberate around the stadium. The crowd cried in love as his soulful, beautiful voice filled their ears with love of his own. And as his fans filed out of the stadium for the night and headed home, Yunho could finally return to his home. Because you were here now… no matter how far, no matter the distance, the two of you would always find a way to be in the other's space.

a/n: pls remember to reblog, comment, and send asks if you enjoyed!

atz m.list

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sunniskyies · 10 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐬 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Bill’s schemes try once more to tear you two apart. But Ford swears that nothing will come between you again, not even the end of the world. 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Show-typical injury 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Reunion, fluff, romanceeeee 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k 𝐀/𝐍: Weirdmageddon time! I know I could’ve written about the date, but I want to wrap this up neatly. Everyone’s support has been amazing, I haven’t written in a while so thank you so much for reading! (I rewatched the Weirdmageddon episodes for this so it should be pretty accurate? Although maybe a tad dramatic but that’s just my flare)

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

It has been a good few weeks since Ford returned. The best few weeks. Even before Ford fell through the portal he was never this romantic, the scientist now reduced to flushed cheeks and soft hands reaching out whenever he saw you. Even when you were a little ways apart, you’d catch him staring at your profile, or coming up from his work just to place a silent kiss on your forehead. You giggle and shove him playfully, but you truly enjoy the little gestures. In return for the vases of wildflowers and cups of steaming coffee you wake up to find on your bedside cabinet, you’ve begun to annotate the books you read, hiding them around the shack for Ford to find. To your delight, when you go down to the basement to touch base with him, you tend to find the book you left the very night before open-paged to the side of his desk.

The man makes you dizzy. Electrified yet soporific, thrilled yet comfortable. Your lives have re-entwined together after far too long apart, and it can’t be more perfect. You will spend the rest of your life with the man you love, safe and content in his arms.

For Ford, he will spend the rest of his life ensuring nothing will come in the way of that happening.

You were in the forest, swabbing the cheeks of a local colony of redcaps for a research paper on gnomish tuberculosis, when a wave of nausea floods over you. The sunlight pierces, fractured, through your eyelids, a kaleidoscope of colour and madness.

As the feeling subsides, you realise that the wave wasn’t purely physical; there really was a vivid wave of madness washing down the Gravity Falls basin.

As you stand stock still, squinting eyes trying to work out what the hell that was, the notebook in your hand begins to quiver.

Looking down, you’re horrified to see that the bendy little writing pad has sprouted beady eyes and a gaping mouth, and is ripping out its own pages.

“GAH!” You squeal, dropping the notebook like it’s hot to the mossy floor. The loose papers now scattered around must be like some fucked-up version of reproduction for the crazed notebook, because each of them have eyes of their own. They begin swirling towards your ankles, small gnawing sounds being emitted as they bite into your ankles with sharp little teeth.

“EEEE! Get off of me!” You scream, shaking out your legs hopelessly as the pages seemingly multiply, crawling up your legs until your lower half resembles a mummy. Tiny teeth like acid on skin.

The madness continues, your tearing hands useless as you’re cocooned in note paper. Your screams are muffled, and you soon slip into unconsciousness. The last thing you see through the gaps in the paper is a large cross in the sky.

Bill.

Cool air trickles into your mouth, your aching lungs reacting by attempting to suck every molecule of oxygen from the atmosphere. Choking on the stink of smog, you try to open your stinging eyes and rip the swathes of paper from your skin. Your second pair of hands quickly help you peel the sweat-soaked sheets from your face.

Wait.

“Whoa, whoa dude. Calm down, breathe.” Startled, your cloudy vision tries to focus on the face of the person helping you. His face is shadowed from the soupy, apocalyptic sunlight. His hands are deftly stripping you of your papery scales.

“Who—” Your hand tentatively rubs your throat when your voice comes out a hoarse gargle. “Who are you?”

“Oh, dude! It’s me,” Soos pulls back his hood. “Handyman of the apocalypse, at your service!”

You sag with relief. “Soos! Thank god,” you say, pulling him in for a hug. “Where are we? How… long was I out?” The landscape around you is barren, a strange wasteland.

“I don’t know, ‘found you here just now. We’re a few days into Weirdmageddon, if that helps jog your memory?” Soos replies sympathetically. You must look like a wreck.

“A few days? I— How— How have I survived so long?” The binding around your mouth and nose was surely tight enough to prevent air getting in completely, your body quickly losing consciousness. Your tissue should’ve experienced hypoxia within the first few hours, yet your cognitive functions seem fine. How did you not succumb to asphyxiation? During the period of time suggested, the symptoms of dehydration and exposure would’ve surely exacerbated the danger of this situation exponentially! It’s a paradox of biological resilience! A miracle! “There must have been some sort of supernatural intervention. Bill’s presence in our realm suggests an anomaly, this ‘Weirdmageddon’… I’m just not sure. I’d need my notes, and more data. Surely other people experienced what I did?” You vocalise, rhetorically.

Soos looks a little lost. “I don’t know, dude. But I have been helping stragglers for the past few days, and it seems to me anyone affected by those weirdness bubbles and that wack-o wave recover just fine. I think Bill’s magic things are really just illusions that mess with your brain?” He offered.

“Fascinating,” you murmur. “If only Ford was here, between us he’s the expert in anomalous— Wait, Ford!” You break off, jumping to your feet. “God, where’s Ford? Have you seen him?”

Soos shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen him.” You sag, heart split and stinging like your chapped lips. “But, hey dude, I think we should worry about that later… there are two suspiciously car-shaped dots speeding this way.”

Looking over your shoulder, you see that Soos is correct. Two vehicles are erratically approaching, slamming into each other with thuds that reverberate across the flatland. You hold onto his hand as you wait to face what’s going on; you’re in the middle of the apocalypse, there isn’t anywhere to run if there’s trouble. You have to face it head on.

“Not-Mrs-Pines?”

“Yes, Soos?”

“You were totally nerding out just now,” he says. “You and Mr. Pines are really perfect for each other, y’know?”

You smile softly. “Yeah, we are, aren’t we?”

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Bill laughs through Ford’s howls, unrelenting as the man is bombarded by electricity. “Ready to talk now?” The demon cackles, Stanford limp in the shackles around his wrists.

Ford’s voice is husky, body spent, but he is equally as resolute. “I won’t. I won’t let you into my mind!”

Bill rolls his eye, spinning to survey the minions crowded around him. Pointed tongues slide hungrily over teeth, gleaming talons fidget eagerly. “What do you think pals? Another 500 volts?!” The triangle calls. His kinsmen jeer in response.

Bill raises a finger, sparks flickering on the tip. As he lowers his arm to direct it at the dying man, a thunder shakes the chamber. His body rotates, form quickly turning red as he sees that blasted Mystery Hack interrupting his interrogation. Large animatronic arms and legs have turned the building into a Demon-Quasher-3000. Who do you think you are?!

You're standing at one of the small windows, Mabel’s friend controlling the limbs via a motion capture suit. You’re her eyes, telling her what to do from your viewpoint.

“Candy! 8-Ball on your ten o’clock!” You shout.

With a grunt, Candy takes him out with a powerful swing. For the first time since Dipper, Wendy, Soos and you regrouped and found the Mystery Shack, faith flares in your chest. The machine is working! We’re coming for you, Ford.

McGucket’s monstrosity really does work perfectly. One by one it picks off the interdimensional hellspawn, craters appearing in the wasteland’s dry earth. You clutch the windowpane tighter with every jolt, knuckles pale. At one point your eye catches them, lingering on your ringless finger. For the second time in your life, you think about how as soon as you get yourselves out of here, Ford better get his act together or you’ll get down on one knee yourself!

Up in Bill’s palace, the demon is livid. “One job! They had one job!”

Ford’s body has perked up, eyes shiny with hope. Bill does not miss this, eye narrowing as he examines the man.

“Well,” he drawls, “would you look at that! Those playthings of yours really care about you. And you care about them, don’t you!?”

Ford’s breath catches. “What are you— No. Oh, no!” Sweat beads on his forehead, fists clenched and trembling. Bill Cipher, however, was quivering with barely contained glee.

“Perhaps torturing those kids will make you talk!” He taunts giddily, floating behind Ford and gently lifting his chin to point his gaze at the Mystery Shack. He leans into his ear, “or… say, Fordsy, how about that doll of yours?”

“No, not her! Cipher, you can’t—” Ford’s cry is silenced as he turns gold inside out, his shimmering figure a cruel contrast to the horror twisting his features.

“You don’t tell me what to do, Sixer.” Bill says, not looking back. Looking out at the shack malevolently, he cracks his fingers. “Now. Let’s get this over with.”

A chill washes through you as you enter the chamber, behind you the Mystery Shack attempts to ward off Bill. You brace your legs as your vibrant parachute sets you down on the concrete, but you still fall over.

“Plegh!” You bite your tongue as your jaw hits the floor, and you lay still for a moment waiting for the breath to return to your body.

“It looks even worse in person,” you hear Dipper say. Looking up, you see he’s right. A throne of petrified corpses looms above you, the townsfolk’s pupiless faces staring out. You immediately look for Ford.

“Ford? Can anyone see him? Is he in a separate room?” You immediately start questioning, hauling yourself to stand and looking around. The cracks in your heart deepen. “Ford?”

Mabel grits her teeth, “on it!” She raises her grappling hook, pulling her up to the dias.

A moment goes by, and then another. Your heart is almost done crawling up your throat when Mabel calls out.

“I found him! He’s golden!” Her face peeks over the edge. “But… not in the good way!”

Mable disappears again, and Dipper is quickly helped up to join her. The rest of the team agrees that you’re the next to go.

With the help of a grappling hook and four twelve-year-old hands, you join them at the top.

There, on the arm of the throne, is the love of your life, gilded and frozen in time.

“Oh, Ford!” You croak. Dipper places a reassuring hand on your arm. You smile back at him, bravely stepping forward to try and get Stanford out of this mess.

The twins quickly notice a young boy trapped in a cage, his shoes clinking against the suspended metal floor. While they discuss something, you examine the base of the throne, squinting skyward as you try to find a way up.

While studying the structure, you fail to notice the twin’s warning before it’s too late. One victim is pulled from the edifice, and the entire thing begins to collapse. Your shout of surprise is swallowed as a cascade of bodies covers you, burying you in the screaming mass.

Disturbed by the chaos, the golden stature of Ford Pines is released from its curse, his body doubling over from relief. Dipper and Mabel quickly locate him, rushing to his side to support him.

Ford coughs, the pain from the electrocutions still ailing him. “Kids! Thank heavens you’re okay!” Despite himself, he scoops them both up, hugging them tightly.

“Great Uncle Ford! We’ve got him distracted, but Bill could get here any minute! You said you knew his weakness..?” Dipper asks.

“Yeah! A secret way to defeat him?” Mabel chimes in. Ford pauses.

“Yes, I do. But— kids, where’s ____?” Ford asks, dread leaching into his features as his eyes dart around.

Dipper’s face pales, his eyes darting toward the remnants of Bill's psychotic throne. “I... I don’t know. She was with us a moment ago.”

“She was here?!” Ford cries, hastening over to the wreckage. A thousand unknown bodies are searching around for their loved ones, but Ford’s eyes are only looking for you. His voice carries above everyone else’s cries, your name echoing the loudest through the chamber. Frantic hands part bodies, his search not sparing a second to apologise for treaded-on fingers or too-rough shoves.

Little did Ford know you were 538 bodies away on the other side of the carnage, battered and bruised, trying to muster up a cry loud enough to ask for help. There are too many people on top of you, and every effort you give to rise to the surface is hopeless as others tamp you back down in their own attempts.

Buried and afraid, your last hope is to peel off Ford’s red turtleneck you’d been wearing and try to use it as a beacon. You’d put it on upon reaching the Mystery Shack, as it still smelled like your beloved’s scent of pine, parchment, and ink. Now, you ball it up in your fist and use all your energy to push it through the tumult, its scarlet fabric disappearing to the surface.

You curl up into a ball, eyes scrunched shut as you wait for unguaranteed help. You don’t even know whether Ford got saved…

“Great Aunt ____!” The twins call, nimbly hopping through the human rubble. People are slowly recovering and dispersing, only a few pockets are left.

“____?” Stanley echoes without much conviction, internally battling the helplessness he feels. However, his brother’s search grows more frantic with every passing minute. Ford felt he was going mad at the thought of losing you, not after finally getting you back.

A flash of red hauls him immediately from his spiral.

“The sweater!” Mabel’s excited voice repeats his thoughts moments after. “That’s her sweater!”

In retrospect, Ford never remembers travelling over to it. He just remembers picking up the turtleneck, looking around for your face. He remembers his hands wrapping around you and hauling you into his arms. He remembers pressing a messy kiss to your lips, eyes brushing over your form for injury.

“My dearest,” he mumbles quietly into your hair, his eyes closed as his skin presses to yours. You're too exhausted to cry, but Ford holds you as if you are. He’s a restless soul, hands always fidgeting for a new project, so when you hug his fingers are always moving; gentle swirls on your lower back, combing through your hair as you kiss him. You sink into this familiar touch, hoping that he understands your wordless relief by the way your fingers trace his jaw, sinking to smooth then grip his coat’s lapel.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you murmur eventually, looking up into his face. The shadows from your youth have reappeared beneath his eyes, his hair is mussed, his jaw bears a rough shadow. Your eyebrows crease. “What did he do to you,” you whisper.

His eyes are weary, yet they look at you so very softly. “Please, let’s not talk of him right now.” He gently takes one of your hands from his chest, delicately cupping it like a precious stone. His eyes don’t leave yours while he presses his lips to your knuckles. His hand lingers, thumb brushing over your fingers thoughtfully. “Do you know what else I was retrieving from the alien bunker? The afternoon the rift cracked?”

You’re taken aback by the abrupt change of subject, and the deepness swirling in Ford’s pupils. It’s like he’s staring straight through you. Hesitantly, you humour him. “You mean, other than the adhesive?”

Ford hums a confirmation, eyes still glued to you.

You’re trying to think, but his finger swirling absently over the top of one of your left fingers is awfully distracting. “Mmm… I don’t know, honey,” you attempt.

He smiles again, bringing you in for another kiss. Your head is swirling, but before you know it Ford is sinking down to the floor, your hand still resting in his large, warm palm.

He lets out a timid, breathy laugh at the look on your face. You’re slack jawed, staring at your beloved (who has always been much taller than you) bowed on one knee before you.

“Sweetness—” He is interrupted by a sound escaping your lips. “—Sweetness,” he continues fondly. “Before I met you, I was a mess. A terrible, unravelled mess that you carefully wove together.” Your spare hand goes to cover your mouth. “It’s been thirty years since I was last torn from you, thirty years since I fell through that portal while you, my heart, were holding the end of my thread. As I fell through the heavens, I came undone, and quickly comprehended how much I need you, ____. I’m—I’m not as smooth with words as others, but… what I’ve been meaning to say from that moment is… you’ve loved me at my best and my worst; And I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life trying to be deserving of that.”

With impressively little fumbling, Ford reaches into his interior pocket and extracts a glimmering silver ring, a rich burgundy stone set into it. As it shimmers you swear you see galaxies of stars swirling within.

“Oh Ford,” you breathe, reeling.

“I don’t want any more close calls. ____ __ ____, will you ma—” the rest of the question is mumbled against the lips you press to his, your body crouched down to wrap your arms around his neck. Somewhere in the torrent of kisses that precede, a ‘yes’ is uttered and a ring is blindly slid onto a finger, but really. It’s the end of the world and you just want to kiss your fiancé.

“If we’re all about to die, I’m glad we’re doing it together.”

Ford’s eyes harden defiantly. He rises to stand, offering you a hand to pull you up. “I won’t let that happen.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14 @2hiigh2cry @taffycandyqt @papi-machucha @muffin1304

@snake-in-a-flower-crown @shadowsandswords @darling-eos @bloodspatteredprincess @yasuuuudere

@space1crow @fries11

#gravity falls #ford x reader #stanford x reader #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #ford pines #stanford pines #gravity falls x reader #fanfic #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls stanford #one shot #ford pines x you #stanford pines x you #fanfiction

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thewordswewrite · 11 months ago

Text

Be My Guest

Pairing | Kate Carter x Tyler Owens

Summary | One time Tyler stays in Kate’s guest room and one time she stays in his

Warnings | discussions of trauma/injury associated with storm chasing, SMUT 18+

W/C | 6.6k

A/N | We wanted to hop into the Twisters fandom before it took ao3 by storm and this is *so far* what we've come up with. So...if you feel it... -smoe <33

AO3 | Link

Donations | Link

Hers

She came home for safety, familiarity, to find her way forward but instead, she found herself more lost than when she’d arrived.

It was only supposed to be a week. Sure, Kate thought it would be difficult to be back in the field but she hadn’t anticipated this. She hadn’t anticipated him. It shouldn’t matter. She had a job in New York, a life, a stable, safe job, her own apartment–everything she needed. But was it everything she wanted?

What Tyler had said crossed a line but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth. It was just something she probably already knew, deep down, and hadn’t wanted to accept. She was running away from the storm but she should know better than most that it would always catch up.

With an aggravated sweep of her arm, all of her past research was on the floor, pages floating around her before finding a place to land. She almost immediately regretted the mess but it had felt good. For the last five years, she’s avoided risk but now it almost feels hypocritical to say that she misses it.

Kate bent to gather the papers but only grabbed a few before stopping at her Cloud Physics notebook which had fallen open to a familiar page. She sat down in front of it and traced the impressions of her writing on the pages. It was too much to retrace her steps, to consider what had gone wrong. She needed to get out of her head and she couldn’t do that without getting out of this damn barn.

She knocked lightly on the kitchen door so as not to startle her mom. Being an adult, Kate felt an aversion to putting these things on her mom. Her mother had always been supportive, even when knowing her daughter’s passion was actively putting her in danger. Maybe she just didn’t want her mom to repeat the same sentiments as Tyler but she also knew she wasn’t about to come to any decision without some guidance. Just like seeing her middle school science project again, she felt like a child standing in the kitchen.

“Kate?”

“Yeah, it’s just me.” She sighed and pulled out the chair at the dining table that had always belonged to her. The smell of whatever her mother was stirring made her stomach grumble. “Where’s Tyler?”

“Oh, he drove pretty far so he’s getting cleaned up.” Kate could tell her mom was trying to sound uninterested, maybe for her sake but still she asked, “What’s his story anyway?”

“He’s just some internet star from Arkansas,” She explained, picking at a stain on the table. For a moment she thought about leaving it at that but the fire he had lit in the barn was still burning inside her. Sardonically, she added, “He’s made a living as a so-called ‘Tornado Wrangler’ but so far he’s only shot some fireworks into a cyclone and nearly killed the reporter signed on to cover him and his team.”

Her mom chuckled and replied, “Sounds like a man looking for a thrill to me.”

Again, she felt like a child relaying the latest gossip from the schoolyard but she couldn’t help but continue.

“And his whole team is this ragtag group of people who’ve never been to school for this either!”

“I see.”

“I mean sure he’s studied meteorology but they could get seriously hurt.” Kate had busied herself by fiddling with a napkin she’d pulled from the homemade holder. The shreds of it were getting smaller and smaller. “They’re no professionals.”

Her mom hummed, acknowledging her annoyance but countered with, “Well he doesn’t seem too bad to me, he did drive all the way here.” Although her mother graciously spared her the ‘for you’ that they both knew completed that thought, she felt its weight. It was easier to make him seem unlikeable than tell her mom that it was her that was in the wrong.

“You’d believe me if you saw the shirts he sells, his face all sprawled across them.” Kate laughed, thinking of the cheesy slogans. It wasn’t lost on her that she had assumed the worst of him. She thought back to what Lily had said and felt ashamed. “Though,” She conceded, “the money does pay for food for the aftermath survivors. They were handing it out at the last town we were in after the tornado hit.”

“Not all bad then?” Her mother turned fully to face her and Kate knew her teasing expression said all she needed to know.

“I guess not.”

_ _ _

Dinner had been passable, if not enjoyable. Kate had figured it would be awkward, that the dynamic between her and her mom would be offset by Tyler’s presence but it had flowed easily. The only gripe she had was that her mother had gone over her head to invite him to stay the night. In her ideal world, she would’ve ushered him out right after dinner saying a quick thanks for his concern but sending him on his way knowing that she’d never have an obligation to speak to him again.

Tyler had, of course, helped her mom with the dishes, leaving her to watch awkwardly so as not to take up unnecessary space in the small kitchen. She’d shot him a tight smile as he’d excused himself to his room for the night.

“Well,” Her mom said from the doorway, “I’m off to bed. Shut the lights, will you?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she made her way past the living room to her bedroom.

Kate tapped her fingers sporadically against the table, the sound echoing in the quiet house. She hadn’t been fully present for dinner. Every time she looked at Tyler she could only think about what she was doing wrong, what she was missing. As much as she resented the fact, there was no way she could make peace with the past couple of days if she didn’t get in another word with him.

She flipped the last of the switches off and made her way up the stairs, avoiding the ones she knew were extra creaky. At the landing, Kate considered just going to her bedroom but her feet kept their integrity and trudged her towards the guest room.

Her hand was poised to knock when the door opened.

“Kate?” The sound of his voice combined with the unexpected image made her jump. Whatever she had been prepared to say had left with her surprise but Tyler was already speaking again. “Listen, what I said in the barn was out of line I shouldn’t have–”

“No you shouldn’t have…but you weren’t wrong either.”

Stepping back, he opened the door a bit more and though it wasn’t quite an invitation. It was a line she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross with his apology and her admittance the gist of what she’d hoped for. She promised herself that if he didn’t try to say anything else, she’d just turn around and walk away. He bit his lip, seeming to wrestle with something the same way she was.

“What’s the story behind you and Javi?” The question surprised her and she felt a vague excitement about his interest or rather the fact that he was interested at all. But the story itself was not something she was sure she could share.

“We met in college, he was friends with my…my boyfriend at the time.”

Tyler’s eyebrow raised in a silent question before he said, “And your boyfriend he was…”

She couldn’t stand in the hallway any longer where she was fully open to his scrutiny whether the story inspired pity or something else. Kate stepped past him into the room and started to explain,

“He was in the accident, along with two of my best friends.” She folded her arms across her chest, in a way trying to shield herself from the memories. “We were testing the polymer on what we thought was an EF1 but–”

“It was an EF5.” She nodded and his lips shifted into a sympathetic frown. Kate sat on the edge of the bed so that she didn’t have to face him head on.

She continued with, “So, I quit school and packed up to New York. Javi went back to Miami but because of the outbreak he thought he could use a second pair of eyes and invited me on.” From her peripheral, she could see the way he nodded along as she spoke, the genuine compassion still written in his features. She shrugged, unwilling to allow herself to feel the extent of the situation and the memories in front of him, “None of it matters though, I’ll be back in the city by the end of the week anyway.”

“You mean you’re giving up?” Tyler asked like it was somehow a personal affront to him or some greater injustice. Kate wasn’t sure what he cared. They’d only just met and he didn’t know her, not really.

“I’m not giving up. I can’t live like this again, risking my life every day.”

“Because of the accident?” The way he said it, like it was only a passing moment and not something that monumentally changed not only her life but her, made her response sharp.

“Yes, because of the accident.”

He was unshaken by her hostility and placed a hand lightly on top of hers where it sat between them on the bed.

“Kate, I’ve seen people get hurt too, I’ve–” She couldn’t listen to this, couldn’t have him reduce her experience by comparison. If he thought this was the way to change her mind, he was sorely mistaken.

“Yeah, Tyler, well I got hurt. I watched people die, and I’ll bear those scars for the rest of my life.” Her body filled with tension of the memory as her breath began to quicken. She let the anger take over, the simplicity of it easier than the complicated truth. “I don't know why I even–”

“Hold on–Kate!”

Kate could feel the air his failed reach created as he tried to grab her wrist to stop her. She was fast though, spurred on by the singular goal of getting the hell away from him. When she made it to the threshold of her room, she moved to shut the door. It almost slammed fully closed but groaned as the wood crashed into the foot he’d managed to snake in.

“Go to bed,” She demanded.

“So what, you’re going to help Javi line the pockets of Riggs for the rest of the week? The real estate shark that's directly profiting off the suffering of these people?” It seemed he couldn’t help, was adept at, pushing her buttons. If she were any bolder, she’d have already struck the self-righteous expression off his face.

“I didn’t know about that, I would have never–these are my people but this isn’t the way, the polymer didn’t work and people died because of it.”

“More will too, but only if you don’t do anything.” He tried to reach for her again but she shrugged away, “It could work. Together we could do this.” Tyler’s expression was pleading, his eyes urging her to make the right decision.

“Goodnight, Tyler.”

His

The flight was thankfully uneventful and much easier than her last flight to Oklahoma when she’d been dreading the very idea of her return. There were still memories that haunted the place she called home but now she could rest assured that they weren’t losses for nothing and that she may very well be able to save someone, hopefully many someones, from the same suffering she had endured for years.

Kate dragged her suitcases through the airport and the bustle of people coming and going made her feel oddly comforted. New York was easy to get lost in and for the time, it was exactly what she needed. But it had only ever been a place she ran away to and after a while she was running too fast to ever see it for what it was. Here, in Oklahoma, she was home.

She made her way out to the pickup lanes and was met with a calm blue sky, one that she knew–or maybe even hoped–wouldn’t last. At the five-minute mark, Kate was unbothered. By ten, she considered concern. By twenty, she was on the phone. It took three calls getting sent to voicemail before her mother picked up on the fourth.

“Hey, are you alright?” She tried not to sound too concerned but it wasn’t like her mother to forget an obligation or to not pick up the phone.

“Oh, sunshine, I’m fine. It’s my truck that’s acting up,” Her mom replied. “I was on the road already when it decided to quit on me. I’m not sure how long repairs are going to take. You want me to call someone for you?” Kate sighed, more relieved by her mother’s well-being than bothered by the situation.

“No, don’t worry about it,” She answered, “As much as you don’t like it, I am a big girl. I can take care of it.”

“I know you can, baby. Don’t worry about making it here tonight, just take care of yourself.”

They exchanged ‘I love you’s before it sunk in that actually did have to take care of it. She found herself a spot on a nearby bench and tucked her luggage in beside her. Scrolling through her contacts, her thumb hovered over Javi before something urged her to keep going. Kate wasn’t sure if this was a bad idea but lately, she could handle a little risk.

“Hello?” She bit her lip, knowing this was her last chance to turn back. Still, he might not even be around or available to get her.

“Hey, Tyler?”

“Uh, yeah?” His voice was in performance mode, his uncertainty no match to his inherent charisma. Kate found herself filled with an urgent hope.

“It's Kate, Kate Carter.”

“Kate!” She could hear the smile in his voice. It was the first time she’d called him since he gave her his number and she was just beginning to regret not using it sooner. “What uh…what's going on?”

Her stomach flipped at the realization that she had to explain herself, that she wasn’t just calling him. Oh god, was this a mistake? Kate had thought there was something there when they were saying goodbye but maybe this was pushing it.

“Are you in Oklahoma by any chance?”

“I am actually,” Tyler replied before he, with a hopeful tone, asked, “Are you here?”

“Do you think you could pick me up from the airport?” She fought the urge to cross her fingers like a little girl. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if she had to call Javi but she couldn’t help but want to see where this path led.

“Of course!” Her chest tightened, a mix between excitement and worry. “Is everything alright with your mom?” Kate’s cheeks flushed, touched by his concern.

“Yeah–truck just wasn’t starting, don’t worry,” She said, hoping she sounded nonchalant.

“Alright then, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” In the background, Kate could hear his keys jingling already and she smiled to herself.

“Thanks so much. Bye.”

_ _ _

Kate had been inside, sitting at a cafe when her phone buzzed in her pocket, Tyler letting her know that he’d made it. She tossed out her empty coffee cup before regathering her things and taking a deep breath. If she was being honest with herself, she was excited to see him but she didn’t want to endure the inevitable teasing she’d be subject to should she seem too eager to be in his presence.

The sliding doors opened and it took her a minute to spot the familiar red truck. Her eyes followed the path to where Tyler was busy basking in the attention of an adoring fan. What more could she expect?

“And did you want this signed cause I could definitely sign this for you.”

He didn’t notice as she siddled up, even with the rumble of her suitcases on the concrete. She shook her head at the display of his ‘Tornado Wrangler’ persona and thought better than to let him off the hook.

With the exaggerated voice of a dedicated fan, she implored, “Oh my goodness! Is that Tyler Owens? I am your biggest fan!”

“That’s me darlin’, what can I do for–Kate.” He cleared his throat and straightened out his posture, putting on the real Tyler at the sight of her. Kate bit her lip, sparing him the laugh that threatened to escape her.

“Tyler,” She said, “You look good.”

“Well, I feel good.” Tyler stood with his hands on his hips, the two of them alone now and it seemed neither of them knew just what to say. She laughed at his remark and began to heave her luggage into the bed. Before she could lift the larger of the two bags, Tyler was stopping her with a hand on her wrist. Kate looked up at him, confused.

“Don’t make me make you get in the truck.” She glared at him, gauging whether or not he was serious. He only matched her expression. “Get in the truck,” Tyler repeated.

Kate rolled her eyes and climbed into the passenger seat. She couldn’t help but lean over toward the shift, running her fingers across the buttons. Her pointer finger landed on the tape labeled, ‘Kate’s Barrels’ and traced over his writing. When the driver's door opened, she jumped at the movement and tore her hand away.

“Headed to your mom’s?” Tyler asked, fingers tapping a rhythm onto the wheel.

“Uh, no actually just any motel close would be good. Home’s a bit far and the flight was long. I just want to go to bed.” She reminded herself that that was the only reason.

“I’m close,” He told her. Since when was he close? “I mean you could stay in my guest room and I could take you back to Sapulpa in the morning?” The idea sounded as equally dangerous as it was appealing. With a motel, she was in control of the situation but his place? There was no knowing.

Clearing her throat she answered, “That…sounds fine.”

Tyler tipped his hat toward her and then he was making his way out of the parking spot. For a little while, they sat in comfortable silence, the radio filling the empty space between them. Once they were outside the city, it was comforting to watch as farmland made up her view. The word rattled in her head again. Home.

“So, how did it end up going with the investors?” He asked. “Good, I assume since you’re back in Oklahoma.” Kate couldn’t help but smile knowing well enough already how happy he’d be to hear. Not to mention how happy she was to achieve something she’d been chasing since the possibility entered her mind.

“Yeah, it went very well actually. We uh–we got a lot of people interested and the offers were so good…I quit my job and sold the apartment. I’m back, back.”

Tyler’s smile grew to a million watts as he exclaimed, “Kate! That’s amazing!”

“Thank you, we’re really excited.” She thought she saw his grin falter a bit but she couldn’t pin down why. Still, after a moment he let out a whoop, honking the horn at the expense of the car in front of them. Kate laughed, placing her hand over his to keep him from doing it again.

“So, where you planning on living? With Javi?”

“Actually I’m not sure yet. Javi has this new girlfriend from back in Miami and they’re pretty wrapped up in each other.” His eyebrows raised and she continued, “My mom's kind of out of the way too. Plus, she’s thinking of selling since seed prices just keep going up. Says she’s sick of the weather.”

Tyler’s jaw went slack, exaggerating his shock. “Sick of the–Sick of the weather?”

“What can I say, she doesn’t appreciate the beauty of the storm.” Kate sighed theatrically. Her hand went to her forehead in a ‘woe is me’ gesture. He chuckled, punching her playfully in the arm.

“On the topic of prices though, she is right.” Tyler sighed as he turned onto a new street. “That’s why I bought land and started from the ground up.”

“Land?” She repeated. It hadn’t been that long that she’d been gone. When and more so why had he decided to put down roots and outside of Arkansas for that matter.

“Yes, ma’am.” His mouth quirked up in a prideful smirk.

“And here I thought I’d be sharing some shitty motel room.”

They pulled into a long dirt driveway, the grass surrounding it still young. While the house was clearly new, the style had a nostalgic feel to it. It was painted a fresh shade of cream and the white wrap-around porch just screamed summer nights. If she didn’t know better she’d think she was going to visit some sweet old lady.

“Here we are, home sweet home.”

Tyler opened her door for her like a proper gentleman and she stepped out into pleasant fresh air. The whole thing was picturesque. Kate supposed she shouldn’t really be surprised considering she didn’t really know his tastes but the whole thing surprised her nonetheless.

She followed Tyler through the front door as he carried her bags inside. The interior was just as sweet as the exterior had been but Kate could see the signs that were uniquely him. There were various piles and pieces of gear strewn about that she recognized from having filled her mother’s house with. Even with the classic style, the appliances and layout were tastefully modern. She was impressed.

Kate stepped into the kitchen which seemed to be the most lived-in room. There were pictures of the Wranglers and what she assumed was his family stuck to the fridge. Her eyes drifted to a bulletin board hung up next to it and tacked up in the center of it was a page ripped out of their article from Ben, one with a picture of her. She could feel her cheeks flush even with him still in the other room. Though she wanted to, Kate knew she wouldn’t mention it.

“You hungry?” She jumped at the sound of Tyler’s voice.

“No, I couldn’t–” The same look that urged her to ‘get in the truck’ painted his face and she reconsidered her answer. “Starved.”

Tyler seemed satisfied. He pulled out a seat at the kitchen island where she could have a clear view of him whipping something together. The whole thing felt unnervingly domestic but she enjoyed it all the same.

“This place is really nice, Tyler,” Kate said. Gesturing toward his tricked-out home office–that was maybe a little too nice for a YouTube star–she pointed out, “Got a nice setup too.”

“Yeah, the team has pretty much paired off and they live here and there but we come back for a warm meal more often than not.”

“Not you though?” It had crossed her mind that maybe the sudden home ownership had been a response to some sort of serious relationship. She tried to sound casual since it wasn’t really any of her business.

Tyler smiled and shrugged. “Nah, a fearless leader has to hold down the fort.” Kate rolled her eyes and laughed at his cockiness. It was better knowing that it didn’t run deep. She thought better than to push it but still, she wanted to know what this whole thing was for.

“No, but seriously, why a house?”

“Oklahoma is the past, present and future of tornadoes. That’s no secret,” He replied like it was some well-known slogan. Yeah, the outbreak they experienced had put Oklahoma back on the map but Tornado Alley spanned a wide area, including Arkansas.

“How do you figure?”

“Well you’re here, aren’t you?” Her stomach sank, trying to decipher the meaning behind what he said. His focus was trained on the pot in front of him like what he’d said was no big deal. What was she supposed to say to that?

Without an answer, Tyler clarified, “You’ve got better instinct than anyone I’ve ever met, better than any Doppler too.”

He’d turned to her and winked in her continued silence. Kate nodded with a smile like it was casual to her too. She shifted under his intense gaze and thought it was an apt time to break the tension with something she’d been tossing around in her mind. He laid a plate of spaghetti in front of her before sitting down himself. She cleared her throat.

“I was going to wait to bring this up but…I was wondering if you would consider being partners.”

“Really?” The excitement on his face was genuine and Kate could see the surprise too. It made her feel secure in her decision.

“Javi and I both have stakes in it but he’s avoiding the field as much as he can right now. He’s got the business side under control but, like I said, he’s got someone at home who’d prefer he didn’t get blown away.”

Tyler stayed practically frozen in place. Maybe she’d overstepped her bounds after all. She could tell herself all she wanted that she wouldn’t be hurt if he didn’t want to partner with her but that didn’t make it the truth.

“What do you say, me and you?” Kate asked, bracing for his answer.

“You and me,” Tyler replied genuinely and with what she hoped was a hint of awe.

They ate silently, half from hunger and half in consideration of their future. As much as Kate didn’t want to admit it, there were other questions lingering between them. When her plate was cleared, he insisted on taking care of the simple cleanup himself leaving Kate to sit idly at the kitchen table, unable to get anywhere else without his direction anyway.

With the dishes washed, Tyler turned his attention back to her but it seemed he had just as much of an idea of how to proceed as she did.

“So, uh…” She began, uncertain where she was going.

“I bet you probably want to get cleaned up. There’s an en suite in the guest room.”

“Yeah, great.” As much as she wanted to bolt, Kate got up from the table slowly as if she were as calm as could be. Still, she didn’t wait for any instructions as to where to go. She didn’t turn back to look at him as she climbed the stairs, internally cursing herself for adding to the awkward atmosphere.

“First door on the right!” Tyler called after her because, of course, she hadn’t asked.

_ _ _

The warm water had been just what she needed, especially paired with the time away from Tyler to think. As much as there had been a sense of tension between them, her feelings had settled on contentment and maybe even excitement. They were partners now and they had plenty of time to figure everything and anything else out. They’d been through hell already and he would help her through it again.

She stepped out of the shower, her feet hitting the plush bath mat, and reached for a towel. Her hand grabbed only air. Upon further inspection, the towel rack was completely unoccupied. Shit.

“Um, Tyler?” Kate called. She waited a few minutes for his response and when it didn’t come she yelled louder. “Tyler!” She let out a breath when she heard his footsteps on the stairs.

“Yeah?”

“There are no towels in here!”

“Shit. My bad, no one has used that bedroom yet,” Tyler explained. His feet were already causing the wood floor to creak when he assured, “I’ll grab you one, be right back.”

Kate couldn’t believe this was happening. There was a good chance that she’d expose herself in the exchange. She’d even left her clothes on the bed, choosing to strip before going to the bathroom.

A few minutes later there was a hesitant knock on the door.

“Here, I brought you a few. I don’t know what you prefer,” Tyler said.

She had to assume that he was smart enough not to look. He’d been nothing but polite after all. When she opened the door, his eyes were covered by the palm of his hand, and his other arm was extended out to her. Kate tried not to laugh at the look of him.

“Thanks.”

Kate wrapped the largest towel around herself and used another to dry the excess moisture from her hair. She pulled the door back open, assuming he was gone but she was met with his figure, eyes still shielded. Nearly bumping right into him, she let out an involuntary sound something between a squeak and a groan. Tyler echoed the sound and quickly flipped his hand so he could see her. She had to assume that his subsequent turning around was motivated by her state of undress.

She didn’t know what else to do besides starting to dress. It seemed he wasn’t done talking to her just yet. After a moment, he spoke.

“Uh, Kate…I, uh, realized I didn’t say thank you just then for considering me.”

“Who else could I possibly consider?” She winced at her own words. By no means did Kate want to sound like she was unhappy, she just didn’t want to make it a big deal between them.

“Well, right, I guess there’s not many storm chasers to begin with and especially not ones who’ve studied meteorology.” Kate could hear the slight hurt in his voice even as he tried to tease and she couldn’t blame him. She’d said the wrong thing. She quickly finished pulling on her pajama pants so she could focus on the conversation before she said something else she regretted.

“Tyler,” She said softly. He still had his back considerately turned to her. Like a kid trying to pass notes in class, Kate tapped his shoulder to get his attention. Tyler smiled as he faced her and it gave her the boost she needed to say what she wanted. “You’re the reason I’m doing this in the first place. You believed in me even when I didn’t. We’re going to be helping people and that’s because of you.”

He was shaking his head before she’d even finished.

“You can’t believe that, it's your polymer, your idea–”

She took a confident step forward, the action effectively shutting him up. The closer Kate got the more she angled up at him, his height towering over her. Her hand found its way to his jaw, cupping it gently, her thumb brushing over the stubble of his skin. Before she had the chance to close the distance, Tyler took his chance to capture her lips with his own.

It started slow, hesitant to the possibility of too much too fast but quickly gained momentum as they threw caution to the wind. It had been years since Kate had done this, never quite feeling able to move on from Jeb and the accident but now with a sense of closure and Tyler’s guiding hand she felt ready.

His mouth was eager as their kiss deepened, Tyler’s tongue painting the inside of her mouth, almost as if he was committing it to memory. Their heavy breaths filled the air and neither of them seemed willing to break the kiss as the minutes went on. It wasn’t until her fingers played at the hem of his shirt that he broke off, looking down at her through hooded eyes, his mouth swollen and flushed.

“Kate…”

The sight was too much and she couldn’t help but bring her lips back to his skin. They found purchase at his pulse point, kisses littering his neck as she made her intentions known to him with every touch.

Taking a step back, Tyler’s hands cradled her face and he searched her eyes, looking for what she wasn’t sure but when he seemed to find it a smile broke across his face. It was the same smile he sported every time the wind picked up and the radar lit up red: a man ready to face a challenge.

“You still wanna stay in my guest room?” He asked, though his joking town was limited by his heavy breathing. Kate knew he was teasing but he was just as eager as she was.

“If you keep up with that attitude I just might,” She replied, smiling ruefully.

“Honey,” Tyler beamed, “all I’ve got is attitude.”

A chuckle escaped her lips and his face turned from cocky to sincere before he leaned in to steal a kiss once more. His hands moved from her face to grasping her own as he led her to what she assumed was his room.

Kate struggled to keep up as he held his hands behind him for her to grasp. She held them awkwardly as the unusual position did not grant her a good grip. The playful air gave her butterflies but also made her feel a sense of safety, knowing that things didn’t have to be heavy between them.

Tyler turned, pulling their hands over his head so that Kate twirled around with him. He used the momentum to guide her backward into his room with his hands on her hips, attempting a cheesily seductive smolder. She used her heel to kick the door shut behind them.

Kate walked ahead of him to go sit on the edge of his bed. She could tell he was watching her closely to consider his next move but she enjoyed the idea of playing coy with him. Ignoring him, she took in the space which was surprisingly sparse especially compared to the ground floor.

“Wow, real homey in here,” Kate joked, feigning awe at the blank walls

“Oh, hush,” Tyler chided, “It hasn’t been that long since we finished construction.”

She put up her hands in surrender and replied, “Sure, sure.” He rolled his eyes at her and then his expression became soft again. Tyler walked forward, kneeing her legs open and standing between them. With just a tilt of her head they were kissing again and this time when she grabbed his shirt, he let her take it off of him. Kate paused a moment to take him in, the image one she intended to commit to memory before pulling her own shirt over her head.

The rest of their clothes came quickly but when it was time for her to remove her jeans she hesitated.

“We don’t have to do this.” Tyler reassured her, misreading her reluctance. Kate shook her head.

“It's not that it’s–” She huffed in frustration and rather than continue to overthink, pulled her pants down in one swift motion, hoping he’d move past the interruption rather than linger on the issue.

Instead, his eyes moved immediately to her lower half and zeroed in on her leg…her scar. Kate’s stomach began to churn. She knew that he knew the story but she hated that it had to be part of this moment between them. He had been part of making it possible for her to redeem herself, to make sure the losses were not worth nothing. Still, the memories and the physical signs would never leave her. It made her insecure but if he had a problem with it, this wasn’t worth continuing.

“Is this from…”

“Yes,” Kate replied flatly. She didn’t have anything to prove and she wanted more than anything to move on from this as soon as possible. Tyler looked up from the marred skin on her leg and cupped her face with one of his hands. His eyes were filled with pure admiration.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Tyler’s lips were on hers again as he leaned her back into the bed, his body sculpting to hers. She felt a hand trail down her body, over her ass, before he hoisted her leg over his shoulder, his face turning towards her thigh and kissing over her scar as he lined himself up with her entrance. He looked at her until she realized he was waiting for her cue. She grabbed onto his upper arms and nodded, making it clear she was ready.

He was slow with her, caressing in all the right spots and making sure she was comfortable until he was finally fully inside her and they moaned in unison at the feeling. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time and when he took a moment to brush the hair from her face it made it all that much sweeter so much so that she laughed. Tyler looked at her, concerned but when she kissed him, he smiled into it catching her drift.

As he began to grind into her, he coaxed mewls from her lips, her hips meeting his instinctually at the pleasure. The way he watched her carefully for her reactions made her heart soar. He made it evident that they were in this together, that he cared about making her feel good. One of Tyler's hands still held her leg while the other found her clit, circling it while keeping pace and she couldn’t help the words spilling from her mouth.

“Tyler,” Kate pleaded, “Don’t stop.” He listened to her demand but she could see how it made him falter. His expression was that of awe as if he couldn’t believe that he was here with her, that she was enjoying what he was doing for them. She curled an arm around his neck and played with the hair there in a way that caused him to flush.

“I gotcha,” Tyler promised, somehow pressing them closer together, “I gotcha.”

She could’ve been embarrassed at how fast she came but Tyler didn’t give her a chance, instead riding her out through her climax and continuing to thrust even after. It was almost too much as tears of pleasure pricked her eyes and her moans filled the room. Her hands gripped the sheets, his arms, his hair, anything that she could reach to keep hold of her senses as they were overwhelmed. All she could think or comprehend was Tyler.

“I–I’m close,” He stammered, the tremble in his voice radiating throughout his body, “Kate, I–”

Her vision went white when she came again, though she could hear Tyler moan her name like a mantra, his head buried in her neck. One hand reached into his hair while the other traced absent circles on his back. It took him a minute but eventually, he came back to her.

“Hey,” He said, letting out a breathy laugh.

“Hi.”

Tyler pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, clearly savoring the moment. Kate didn’t want it to end either but she was confident that it was only beginning. They both let out their own versions of a disappointed noise as he pulled out.

When he disappeared into the ensuite, she pulled his comforter up around her, the scent of him enveloping her as well. He came back with a damp towel and once helped her clean up, he flopped into bed beside her, pulling her into his side.

Kate placed a hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under her palm. Tyler pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She wanted to bask in the moment a bit longer but before she knew it she was beginning to yawn.

The last thing she remembered before she fell into a peaceful sleep was the sweet kiss they shared and the soft rumble of his voice.

“Goodnight, Kate.”

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dollishmehrayan · 6 months ago

Text

ACADEMIC RIVALS TO LOVERS WITH TIM ── .✦

a/n: guys who’s backk anyways this was a request by this lovely @pearlybaee (mentions aren’t showing up) but anyways I hope this reached the standards and tysm! ᥫ᭡

tags: ( tim drake x gn!reader)

THE RIVALRY BEGINS ── .✦

You and Tim Drake weren’t enemies, far from it. But being in the same academic sphere as him meant constant competition. It wasn’t outright hostile, but the two of you had a habit of accidentally one-upping each other in every single class.

“Oh, you got a 98 on the physics test?” Tim would say with a raised eyebrow. “Congrats! I got a 99. Must’ve been that question about Newton’s third law.” (That would’ve lowkey pissed me off oml🌚😭)

Your response? A shrug paired with: “Oh, it’s fine. I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. Maybe I’ll tutor you sometime.”

Cue Tim’s light laugh, which only fueled your competitive spirit.

UTTER CHAOS MOMENTS ── .✦

During a group project, the professor thought pairing you and Tim together was a great idea. Neither of you said anything, but your eyes screamed, This is going to be a mess.

Tim, casually: “I’ll handle the research and presentation. You can write the report.”

You, not missing a beat: “Wow, I didn’t realize you wanted to make us fail. I’ll handle the research, thanks.”

He smirked but relented, “Fine. But if the slides are ugly PowerPoint ones, I’m blaming you.”

In a debate, the teacher made the mistake of pitting you against Tim.

“Timothy Drake’s argument is valid—if you ignore all the facts.”

Tim: “Wow, I didn’t realize we were presenting opinions today. Did you leave your sources in the other room y/n?”

The entire class lived for these moments. (Yk when the teacher starts talking about they’re life and they forget the lesson, that’s vibe omg)

THE KIND SIDE ── .✦

Despite the playful jabs, Tim secretly respected you. The fact that someone could keep up with his relentless drive and still manage to make him laugh? It was impressive.

Once, you stayed late in the library, struggling with a particularly tough assignment. Tim noticed and, instead of teasing, sat down next to you with his laptop.

“You know, if you keep looking at that paper like it’s going to fight you, it just might,” he said, sliding his notes over.

“Wow, are you actually helping me?” you asked, pretending to be shocked.

“Don’t get used to it,” he quipped, but the grin on his face told you he didn’t mind.

THE REALIZATION ── .✦

The moment Tim realized he was falling for you was during a particularly heated trivia competition for a school fundraiser or smth. You buzzed in before him and answered correctly with such confidence that the crowd erupted in applause.

He just stared, dumbfounded, while you turned to him with a smug smile. “What’s the matter, Drake? Cat got your tongue?”

It hit him like a ton of bricks: he didn’t want to beat you. He just wanted to keep standing next to you, watching you shine and get to call you his too.

THE CONFESSION (WHICH WAS TOTALLY NOT REHEARSED 7X WHEN HE WAS ALONE.) ── .✦

Tim’s confession wasn’t grand or overly dramatic. Instead, it happened during one of your late-night study sessions. You were both hunched over a table, working through equations, when he blurted out:

“You know, this whole rivalry thing? It’s kind of ridiculous.”

You looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Ridiculous how?”

“I mean…” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to keep competing with you. I want… I don’t know, to actually spend time with you. Without trying to prove I’m smarter.”

You blinked, surprised. “So you’re saying… you like me, is this a date?”

Tim groaned, cheeks pink. “Yes, obviously, I’m not just blabbing y/n.”

You leaned back, pretending to think. “Huh. This is going to be so fun to hold over your head.”

Tim laughed, shaking his head. “I take it back. You’re the worst.”

But when you smiled at him—actually smiled—he couldn’t help but think you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

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unboundprompts · 1 year ago

Note

Hello!!! I hope you don't mind doing this one,

Can you help me write a traumatized person who's having trouble talking because of past trauma? (They can still interact with people, but only with signs and movements, not voice) and also a little anxious

Tell me if you need more details =)

How to Write a Mute / Non-Speaking Character

-> healthline.com

-> verywellhealth.com

-> descriptionary.wordpress.com

Types of Mutism:

selective mutism: having the ability to speak but feeling unable to.

organic mutism: mutism caused by brain injury, such as with drug use or after a stroke.

cerebellar mutism: mutism caused by the removal of a brain tumor from a part of the skull surrounding the cerebellum, which controls coordination and balance.

aphasia: when people find it difficult to speak because of stroke, brain tumor, or head injury.

What Causes Selective Mutism in Adults?

having another anxiety condition, like separation anxiety or social anxiety

experiencing physical, emotional, or sexual abuse

having a family history of selective mutism or social anxiety

having fewer opportunities for social contact

having an extremely shy personality

having a speech or language disorder, learning disability, or sensory processing disorder

parent-child enmeshment, or lack of clear boundaries in the relationship

traumatic experiences

Traumatic Mutism vs Trauma-Induced Selective Mutism

if you have traumatic mutism, you may be unable to talk in all situations following a trauma.

with trauma-induced selective mutism, you may find it impossible to talk only in certain situations-- for example, in front of the person who hurt you or in a setting that resembles the circumstances of your trauma.

Different Ways Individuals with Mutism May Choose to Communicate:

Nonverbal Communication: they may rely on facial expressions, gestures, eye contact, and body language to convey their thoughts, emotions, and intentions.

Writing or Typing: they may use a pen and paper, digital devices, or communication apps to write messages, notes, or responses.

Sign Language: they can convey meaning, emotions, and engage in complex conversations through hand signs, facial expressions, and body movements.

Augmentative and Alternative Communication (AAC) Devices: these devices provide individuals with a range of tools and technologies to support their communication needs. They can include speech-generating devices, picture boards, apps, or software that allows users to select words, phrases, or symbols to generate spoken or written output.

Communication Boards and Visual Aids: Communication boards or charts with pictures, symbols, or words can assist individuals in conveying their messages.

Assistive Technology: various assistive technologies, such as speech-to-text apps, text-to-speech programs, or eye-tracking devices that aid individuals with communication.

Tips on Writing a Mute / Non-Speaking Character:

Explore the vast array of nonverbal cues such as facial expressions, body language, gestures, and eye contact. Use descriptions to convey their intentions and reactions.

Utilize internal dialogue. Offer readers a window into their internal thought process, and turn their internal dialogue into a narrative that reveals their inner struggles, triumphs, and complexities so that reader can connect with the character.

Establish a communication system that is unique to your character (Sign language, written notes, telepathy in a fantasy setting, etc.). Having a communication system allows your character to interact with other characters and contribute to the narrative.

Surround them with Understanding Characters that can aid in communcation and fostering meaningful relationships.

Establish the Barriers/Conflicts They'll Experience. Don't forget to be realistic.

Your character is not defined by their inability to speak. Make sure you do not write stereotypes and cliches. Being mute is only one aspect of their identity rather than their defining trait.

Do your research! Seek out firsthand accounts, experiences, and perspectives. Check out online forums and resources to gain insights into their unique challenges, adaptations, and strengths.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #how to write #writing tips #writing advice #writing resources #writing help #writing tools #how to write a mute character #how to write a non-speaking character #how to write characters

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lostinlovingrevery · 5 months ago

Text

Whistleblower

Weapon X! Logan X F! Reader

A/N: This is really different from what I usually write but I had this idea and I wanted to get it out there. I MAY make a smutty alt of this lol...

Plot: You're a doctor recruited to work at the research base Lake Alkali, where you eventually become the whistleblower on the immoral experiments used on mutants held inside, one particular man being the reason you finally spilled the secrets....

Warnings: Canon typical violence, blood, mentions of experiments, descriptions that could be a lil disturbing? reader get attacked (not by Logan teehee), reader is a mutant but no powers mentioned, reader feels bad for Logan lol, more of a plot based fic with some future romance implied?

Word Count: 4k+!

Fingers tapped rhythmically against a stack of papers. Jazz played in the background. A hot cup of tea, slowly cooling off as it becomes forgotten.

You were sitting in your shabby little broom closet of an office. A ceiling light flickers above you. Filing cabinets stuffed full of documents and manilla folders lined the walls. A laptop sat on your desk, open to an email that you have typed out, attached to the email was files, and pictures.

Lots of pictures.

You looked up, at a shitty motivational picture of a person looking at a landscape of a mountain, and a quote plastered in bold text at the bottom,

“AN IDEA WITHOUT ACTION IS NOTHING”

You had an idea.

Whether you were brave enough to take action is the issue.

You’re a doctor. A scientist. Majored in medicine, and went back to grad school for biology, and even dabbled in some psychology. Your name was… controversial. Your studies and research revolved around mutants, and supported mutants. You have been torn down by other scientists, doctors, and even colleagues for your work. You didn’t care.

A few years later your work got noticed by some higher-up government officials. Another scientist by the name of William Stryker recruited you into his mission. A top secret base located at the beautiful and scenic lake Alkali. You were told that you would be helping the future of mutants and humans alike.

That was a fucking lie.

Initially, you didn’t know anything. You were moved onto the base, given your own personal quarters, something with a bedroom and bathroom and a space big enough to be a living area. You were given small amounts of clearance. You had weekends off. It was a 1 year contract.

Your job at first was to check the physicals and health statuses of soldiers, give out flu shots, and occasionally run a physical on a “volunteer” for the experiment programs they ran in the base, experiments you didn’t have clearance on. You didn’t think anything of it at first, everything you saw seemed clean, and people were treated with respect. Time went on and suppose they began to trust your persons, so you moved up the ladder and took part in studies that were more your style. That’s when you began to feel like something was wrong.

Some of the research didn’t feel…ethical. It felt that the mutants were being treated like..animals. They talked about them like animals. At face level, the people who came in were volunteers- participating in studies in the name of science, sometimes a monetary reward was offered. Then you would notice that said volunteers never officially left.

It was when you did some snooping around that you discovered some horrific truths. You found files, pictures, classified things that weren’t meant for your eyes. You were caught- of course you were caught. This was a top secret government research base. There were eyes everywhere.

You were taken to Stryker, who gave you a firm lecture- as if he was scolding a child. He then asked you if you were still wanting to stay a part of the research team. He had noticed your wonderful work ethic, and your bright mind. Thought you’d do great to help out. He also implied your inevitable murder if you were to say no.

You said yes.

Not because of the bullshit excuse of “This is for the best of humanity and mutant-kind”. To perform immoral and cruel experiments on mutants in the name of discovery and America. Fuck that. You were smart, you had ambition. You also had empathy and a moral compass, unlike these arrogant pricks.

They didn’t know you were a mutant too- at least, they never implied they did. Not that it matters. You were raised to be accepting of everyone, to treat people with kindness, to lend a hand. That’s why you became a doctor. You were half tempted to use your powers to create a rebellion, take the place out. There were too many people though, all prepared, they had weapons and tools meant for controlling mutants and subduing them. It would be over before it started. You weren’t exactly a fighter, even though your powers were strong, but you were clever.

You reread the email you have written out for the millionth time. You used a fake email. You had multiple VPNs and several other spyware you installed in an attempt to hide where the email came from. Honestly, though, it probably wouldn’t matter. They’ll know it’s you the second you hit send. They’ll come in, knock you out, and use you for their sick experiments too.

Perhaps though, if this email goes to the person you’re hoping it does. Maybe it won’t take so long. It won’t be so bad.

You agreed to stay for a reason. For information. For evidence. You had to be careful of your reactions, of your words. They watched your every move. Looking for signs of any infractions against them. It took time but you earned the trust of the staff and the mutants.

You were kind, you provided comfort to them. You whispered promises that you will help them and that they will be free. All the while you took discreet photos and made copies of files and reports secretly. You’ve been storing them in the vent next to you; you made a secret compartment inside so that when the head of security comes in for their monthly inspections they never find anything. Chief Hanlon. That guy is a huge dick.

You thought back to the faces you’ve come to know. People with tortured eyes and permanent scars. It tugged at your heart. You felt guilty, for ever taking part in something like this, for ever agreeing to come to this hellish place.

The next face you think of is what pushes you to hit send.

“Weapon X-”

Dr. Stryker was walking you down a long, poorly lit, concrete corridor, guarded by men in military gear, holding assault rifles- all of them eyeing you suspiciously. Stryker was walking with a cocky smile and a swagger. It was 2 weeks ago, before you had been pushed to finally compile your evidence and find someone who could help you.

“My biggest achievement in my career.” He continues. You both stopped at the end of the corridor, and he punched a code into the keypad. The metal doors open, and you step into a large room. Surrounded by large machinery, scientists, and guarded personnel, sat a huge glass tube, filled with some kind of substance, and a man who sat suspended inside it. He motioned to the tube, almost like he was presenting it grandly to you. “My pride and joy.”

It made you sick to your stomach at the sight. He was suspended in the tube- floating in the clear liquid-like substance. He had no clothing on, and you could make out the tense muscles of his body. Despite his burly appearance, he looked unhealthy- his skin was pale, his hair grown out, wild and untamed, from his head, down to his chin, his beard scruffy and long as well. Even his stomach seemed sunken in.

Are they even feeding him?

The metal wires that were attached to his skin went in various places, his arms, his chest, his legs, and his head. The Holter monitor at the bottom that sat in front of you reads his heart rate; It was faster than it should be for an average person. You made out dog tags around his neck- the only article of clothing on him. There was a large oxygen mask, covering his nose and mouth.

His eyes were open- and staring at you.

“A soldier I met in Vietnam. He’s a mutant- obviously, claw-like appendages that protrude from his fist.” Stryker explains. “He has an extraordinary ability to heal. He can recover from anything- bullets, stabbings, broken bones. He has heightened senses, incredible strength, and a fierce rage, making him the strongest weapon in the world.” He says proudly. “A few years ago, I convinced him to partake in an experiment that bound adamantium metal to his bones. He’s indestructible.”

You swallowed, not taking your eyes off of him. This poor man, what must he feel? How much pain is he in?

“The machine keeps his body supported and alive, but the substance- something I invented- keeps him frozen in place, which is why the machine is needed. He wouldn’t be able to breathe, no heartbeat or anything. He’s come back from death plenty of times, we’ve researched that- but we rather not risk fully killing him, y’know?” Stryker laughs. You grimaced at him, your eyes turning to look at the man, examining his body - that’s when you saw the twitch of his pinky.

Didn’t Stryker say he was frozen in place?

“What’s his name?”

“Name?” Stryker says, a bit surprised at your question. “Logan.”

You were glad to have a name for the face. Calling him Weapon X, felt nothing but wrong.

“What is his…purpose?” You ask, tearing your eyes away, not mentioning the twitch. You knew what Stryker would say.

“We use him to carry out missions that cannot be failed,” Stryker says. “He’s nearly impossible to control, hence why we keep him in this- and when we send him out, he’s equipped with a helmet that helps us keep track of his whereabouts and sends signals to tell him what to do.”

“Mind control?” You asked. You use him to kill people.

“Kinda.” He says, turning to the computer and typing in a few things. “Your job here will be just to monitor his vitals. We noticed spikes in heart rates and blood pressure lately. Rare moments, but something we’d like to keep an eye on. If it gets worse, you’ll be tasked to come up with a solution. He’s too valuable to lose.”

You nodded. You could still feel Logan staring at you.

After Stryker finished explaining everything, you were sent back to your day. Logan's face lingered in your head. The way his eyes stared at you. What was he thinking?

It was that night you began looking for help. Your mind would wrack through people you have met through your years when you remembered someone- someone from when you were in college. A kind man, who approached you regarding your paper of mutant psychology. A paper you wrote in research regarding how mutant lifestyles can be affected by their powers. It was widely controversial, considering mutants weren’t- and still aren’t- quite accepted in your society. Your peers and professors had tried to sway you from writing it, but you refused, not caring about the consequences. Mutants were forever treated as evil people, the news constantly reported the “bad” mutants. Nevermind the fact that there were still plenty out there, living normal lives.

The man wanted to know more about you, your paper, and what you wanted to do after college. He confided in you that he had a school for mutants and invited you to come see it. At the time, you were too busy- but you always kept his card. You didn’t know how or why- but something about him told you that maybe he could help. You prayed to whatever God was out there, that this man,

Charles Xavier

Could help you, Logan, and the others who were trapped here.

After that, you spent the next week discreetly putting together everything to send to Charles. Anxiety wracked your head. What if he can’t help, what if he doesn’t help? Maybe he confided in his secret school of mutants, but what if he was just like Stryker and it was all a sham?

You were doing your usual responsibilities when you went to check on Logan. It was two weeks ago today that you were in charge of monitoring his health. Your intuition told you that his spiked heart rates, the twitch of his pinky, and the way his eyes watched your movements- even though he shouldn’t be able to move at all, were not a coincidence or a sign of a failing health state.

It was just you and a few guards that were stationed at the door. You were observing the latest changes over the last 24 hours. The two guards were silent, and then one of them started talking, bringing up some workplace gossip.

“Hey, y’know, me and Miranda, we got a date Saturday night.”

“Shit, she said yes to your dumbass?”

“Man fuck you.”

They were talking, and distracted. You turned to scowl at them, which they didn’t notice, both facing each other wrapped up in their own conversation. You looked back at the monitor, tapping your fingers on the table when you noticed movement. Your eyes glanced upwards, and you noticed the twitch of his toe. You looked farther up and his eyes were staring down at you.

You looked back at the guards. Hesitating before silently standing up and moving closer to the tube. Your hand went up to the glass and gently pressed. You looked back at the guards once more, still gossiping and distracted. You looked up at Logan. Staring right into his eyes, and you mouthed to him,

“I’ll get you out of here”

You’re not even sure if he would have understood you, if he could lipread. The others say his mind was too far gone to understand what’s going on around him, and the helmet is what gives him directions. They called him an animal.

“He’s a man. Not an animal.” You corrected them. They simply stared at you. You could feel their silent judgments. Has everyone lost their humanity here? How could you look at him and not see a person?

The way his eyes moved- staring at you, you felt there was something there, someone there. He was thinking. He was observing. You wanted him to know you were on his side.

You had no other choice at this point. You were at your wit's end. Who cares about your safety, your own life if you get caught. These people deserved better.

Now back in your office, you sent the email. Hopefully, Charles is good about checking his email- that he knew what to do, or you and everyone else here is fucked. You went to bed that night, unable to sleep, Logan’s eyes tearing through your mind.

You walk on eggshells for three days, waiting for the moment someone confronts you, for them to break into your room and stick a bag over your head and throw you into a jail cell where you get to await whatever Stryker thinks you’ll be good for.

You were starting to wonder if anything was going to happen, while you were sitting at your desk once again in your little office. Filling out various medical files- one on a woman who had snow-like powers. Stryker had ideas to use her against hot and dry environments, turn them frigid cold, in order to incapacitate enemies who were prepared for hot weather. At one point you believed this research wasn’t about warfare, or violence. You thought you would be helping mutants, understanding what made you, you. How you managed to let the wool go over your eyes you didn’t know.

The blare of the alarm startled you out of your thoughts. Announcements of guards and soldiers to get into position, alerts of intruders coming to the base.

You thought you were going to puke.

You got up from your chair, unsure of what to do. Another announcement told staff to stay where they were. You tapped your fingers on the desk behind you as your brain wracked for ideas, should you go out and see what’s happening? Who were these intruders?

Maybe it had something to do with the whistleblower email you sent several days ago.

You could hear footsteps of soldiers running down the hall past your door.

What if this is my chance?

You could help them escape the mutants. The soldiers, the security, they were distracted by whoever was attacking - people you hoped were on your side. You knew the codes, you could fight a little bit yourself- even if it wasn’t your preference. You grabbed your lab coat off your chair, making sure your badge was still attached for access, throwing it on and you opened the door, peeking out into the hallway- empty.

Your heels clacked on the floor as you ran down the maze like hallways that you’ve become familiar with the last 6 months towards the elevators. The lights shut off suddenly, leaving you in darkness until emergency lights kicked on. The alarms were off now. The only thing you could hear was faint gunshots happening thankfully far away from you.

You could barely see, the red lights of the elevators and stairway signs led you to the direction you wanted to be in. You carefully walked towards them, your heels clicking against the tiled floor as you went to the stairway door, pushing it open.

Soft orange glow lit up the otherwise dark and very cold stairway. You could hear more gunfire. You turned to look back at the hall you came from, searching for any signs of people that may have been around, before going into the stairway, and climbing down the stairs.

With the power off, the captive mutants are likely escaping themselves already, which may explain the occasional gunfire. People fighting back you can only assume. If they’re fighting, you’re going to fight with them.

You carefully made your way down the stairs, cautious to not trip due to the lack of lighting. You reached the floor that would lead you to the captive mutants. Your mind wandered to Logan. He was a few floors down. Maybe you can help him too?

You chose to go farther down the stairs. You had to do something. How could you not?

You reached the floor you wanted to reach, and carefully pushed the door open, peeking out into the hall. Only small red emergency lights lit the dark empty halls, but they provided enough light for you to make out multiple bodies strewn across the floor. They were still, unmoving, and against your better judgment, you moved inside into the hall, checking one of the bodies.

It was one of the soldiers that usually stood guard in Logan's room. You kneeled down to check his pulse. No pulse.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, as you carefully walked down the hall, checking each body for pulses. You may have thought everyone who worked here was scum - but you were still a doctor and if there was something you could do, you would do it.

After the 5th body you could confirm was dead, you quickly walked down the hall to Logan’s room. The door was wide open - and you could see from where you were, the tube that kept Logan immobile and suspended was broken apart. The substance that kept him frozen was leaking into a large puddle on the ground- where you could barely make out several more bodies on the floor.

He was free

Judging by the state of the soldiers, you’re not sure if that’ll be a good thing for you.

You took a couple of steps back, only to feel a hand on your shoulder, swinging you around- you felt a sharp punch to your face, knocking you harshly to the ground. Pain radiated from your nose down to your jaw, and you felt blood trickling down your nose over your lip as you brought a hand up to it. Looking up fearfully, you recognized him, the chief of security.

“You bitch.” He hissed, fists clenched at his side. “You fucking did this didn’t you? I told Stryker you couldn’t be trusted. I should have put a bullet in your head when I caught you sneaking around the first time.”

“No-!” You yelped as he reached down, hand against your throat and pinning you to the floor, your head banging against the concrete making you yelp in pain. You clawed at his arm, kicking your legs in an attempt to get free as you felt his fingers tighten against your throat. You looked up at your attacker, his eyes furrowed, as he gritted his teeth, squeezing your throat tighter as you began to gasp for air- your chest growing tight.

In a flash, you heard a scream, and something warm and wet splatter on your. His hand was gone, and you watched in horror as he was lifted into the air, sharp metal points sticking out through his chest, and you saw Logan, holding him up in the air- a sharp snarl escaping him.

You heard a snikt! And you crawled away as the chief's body fell to the ground. Your heart pounding out of your chest, tears fell down your face, as a shaky breath escaped you- looking up at the towering and terrifying presence that now stood above you.

The red light illuminated him, making him look almost devilish. He was hunched, hands in fists, covered in blood, completely naked. There were a few wires hanging haphazardly from his arms and legs - and the helmet, the one you assumed is the one they use to control him.

They’re not controlling him now, are they?

You waited, waited for him to kill you next. Surely he will?

He straightened himself, a scowl on his face as his nostrils flared, his chest heaving with deep breaths. He stared into your eyes. You swallowed, and pushed yourself up from the ground. Your body was shaking, and you stepped forward towards him, over the body of Hanlon.

“Logan?” You said his name, your voice hoarse, and cracked. He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. You blinked a few times, and you reached your hands up, they’re shaky and unsteady, but you reached towards him- to the helmet.

He flinched back a moment, before stopping, letting you do whatever you were going to do. His eyes unceasing their hard stare, his nostrils flaring with every breath- making you nervous that those famous claws you’ve heard about - and just seen in action are going to make their appearance and turn you into a shish kebab.

He didn’t do anything, and you finally made contact with the cold metal. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, as your fingers found bolts and clips, undoing each one until the helmet came loose from his skull.

You saw relief flood his eyes, his hands reaching up as you slowly moved yours back, returning them to your side shaky as ever, as he pulled the helmet off and dropped it to the ground.

He blinked a few times, looking around, a small breath of relief escaping him before looking at you again.

You both stood there, unsure what to do next.

1 Year Later

Your fingers nervously tapped along the files in your lap. Your leg crossed over the other as you sat on the very uncomfortable chair provided to you while you waited. You laid your hands flat across the folder, as anxiety twisted in your gut.

“Nervous?”

The voice drew you out of your anxious thoughts as you looked up and smiled.

Logan stood there in front of you, clean, healthy, happy. He wore a clean dress suit, his hair slicked back, and his beard trimmed. He gave you a thin lipped smile, his eyes regarding you with softness.

It had been a long year to get to where he was, with you there to support him as best as you could.

It was Charles Xavier's people who came and caused chaos at the base. A group called the X-men, a group of talented and powerful mutants who work in the name of helping mutants- which is right up your alley. You- nor Logan didn’t join right away, but accepted Charles' invitation to stay at his school, alongside other mutants who were rescued, in order to wait for the dust to settle.

The dust was finally settling. Stryker and his men were on trial before congress. You were the piece to finally put things to rest. The evidence you compiled, the things you witnessed. You were about to go before congress, and speak on the behalf of mutants that had become victims to Stryker.

You stood up from your chair, hugging your files to your chest. “A little bit.”

“Don’t be, you’ll do great.” He says. “You always stood your ground about things like this. Just cause it’s a bunch of assholes in Washington don’t make it any different.”

You got to know Logan, who he was. He became someone you admired like no other. He rose up from the trauma and pain he suffered in Alkali, refusing to let it harden him. He was still a bit rough around the edges- but for you he was soft.

During his time in Lake Alkali, he was waiting for a chance to escape. The scientist said he couldn’t think clearly but it was far from the truth. The only time he went into an animalistic haze was when the helmet was on- it blocked his vision and his senses, made his brain fuzzy.

When the X-men breached the dam, they were about to let Logan out to wreak havoc on the intruders. They put the helmet on him and he managed to keep himself together that time- escaping and slaughtering guards along the way. It was hard, it set his teeth on edge, it made him confused, unsure of what he was doing.

It was you that kept him from losing himself again. He heard your heartbeat, and your cry when Hanlon punched you. You removing the helmet was the final step for his freedom.

“I just hope it’s enough. You know politicians, how they are. You saw how they treated Jean.” You frowned, your eyebrows furrowing.

“You’ll convince them bub. Quite worrying.” He says. His hand reached out, placing over your arm, his thumb running across your skin in a soothing motion. You nodded, attempting to let his reassurance calm your nerves. “After this, we’ll get some lunch, yeah?”

You smiled and nodded, Logan paused, observing you before he stepped closer. It made your breath hitch, his proximity to you, your nerves becoming more worried about him now, instead of the trial. Lately, you and Logan's friendship that has formed over the last year has felt to be turning into something more. You weren’t quite sure what yet, and Logan didn’t seem to know either.

You had an idea though.

The door behind you opened.

“Ma’am? They’re ready for you.” A young man greets you and you nodded, looking back at Logan. He smiled supportively, and you quickly leaned up to kiss his cheek, before turning to walk into the room.

“Wish me luck.” You called after you, before the door shut behind you, leaving Logan alone in the hall, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, thinking about how nice your lips felt on his cheek.

You were led to a desk, where the young man- you believed to be an intern pulled the chair out for you allowing you to sit. You quietly thanked him, smoothing your skirt out and setting the papers you were holding on the desk, you looked up and stared at a room full of men in suits.

“You are here today to present evidence before congress against Dr. William Stryker, as well as numerous other names in this trial. Do you have that evidence before you?”

You opened one of the files, and one of the first things you see is a picture of Logan. Weapon X. It made you sick to remember him like that. You looked up, lips pulled tight, eyes filled with determination.

“Yes.”

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