#There's a man in front of the burning parade float trying to convince me he didn't start the fire

[intexda]

Seeing the Nijisanji drama is like walking out on my porch and seeing a burning parade float for a show I don't watch in the middle of my yard.

[themonkeycabal]

WandaVision Episode 9 Spoilers

I can't believe we're already at the finale. 

This has been better than I expected, though I didn't have any particular expectations one way or the other. I had hoped it would be bonkers, and it's had its moments, but I didn't expect it to be breaking my heart. I'm glad Wanda (and Elizabeth Olsen) got this moment to shine. It was very well done, and it's been nice to have fun with a Marvel property again. It's been a little while.

My wishlist for this episode is simply that somebody, anybody punch Acting Director Dick square in the face. And also that Jimmy Woo arrests him. A lot.

Other than that, I don't know what to expect, or how they wrap this up in 30 minutes.

Previously on: Wanda finally earned the name Scarlet Witch after Agatha made her relive the worst moments of her life. Harsh, Agatha. Vision uttered a line that launched a thousand gif sets. And Hayward revealed his genius masterplan which is a reactivated Vision, devoid of color and powered by the energy bleeding from Wanda's hex. I'm sure that will go swimmingly for him.

Let's see how this all ends.

Agatha still has magical tethers around Billy and Tommy's necks, which obviously Wanda doesn't like. Agatha gives the boys a tug, knocking them back, and Wanda lets loose, walloping Agatha. The boys are now free, but Wanda tells them to go to their room. They object, she insists, Tommy grabs Billy and they zoom off. Wanda hits Agatha again with a hex, but Agatha sort of collects it into a little glowy ball in her hand. Oops.

"I take power from the undeserving. It's kinda my thing."

Wanda notices her hand turning gray and gnarly — the look of somebody about to be magically mummified. Agatha hits her with a hex and taunts her some more.

"You're clearly in over your little, red head, so why don't you surrender your magic to someone who knows what to do with it?" Agatha, you're pushing your luck. "I'll let you keep this pathetic corner of the world all to yourself. What do you say?"

Wanda says she will throw a car right at your face, Agatha. I laughed. Didn't see that coming, did you? Knocked Agatha right out of her boots.

As Wanda is investigating, Director Dick's white Vision floats down behind her. He's creepy looking.

Wanda walks over to him, staring at him. "Is it really you?"

He puts his hands on her face, all gentle like, but it's a lie. He starts to squeeze. "And I was told you were powerful."

Gross, AD Dick. I hope you get stepped on by Ant-Man when he's being Giant-Man.

Sitcom World Vision (hereafter just plain old Vision) makes a timely reappearance, and takes out Not!Vision. He wants to know where the boys are, Wanda assures him they're safe, and she apologizes for everything and that she should have told him what was happening, "the moment I realized what I'd done". Poor Wanda. He tells her it's alright. She says she can fix it. Not!Vision climbs out of the burning remains of a camper.

Agatha reappears to note the awkwardness of the situation. She asks Wanda who she's going to choose, the ex or the boyfriend. What happens when Wanda hits you with more power than you can contain, Agatha?

Wanda tells Vision "this is our home." He agrees, "then let's fight for it." I hope for the best for you two crazy kids! Marvel has a dicey record on happy endings, though. Sorry!

Vision takes off towards Not!Vision again. Agatha flies off, too, and Wanda follows.

Across the street Monica is pounding on a window, calling for Wanda. Fietro, lounging with a guitar in his … stoner den?, tells her nobody can hear her. Can we talk about how Monica's SWORD uniform looks like ST:Next Gen unis? I can't stop seeing it and it's distracting. Anyway, she tries to escape, but, Fietro is still all fast and stuff, so she's thwarted.

In the sky, Vision and Not!Vision battle. Not!Vision says Wanda must be neutralized and Vision must be destroyed. Hmm. Not!Vision tries to rip out the stone in Vision's forehead but Vision goes intangible. More fighting with intangibleness. It's pretty cool.

Outside Westview, AD Dick is feeling cocky as he watches both Visions on tracking monitors. I loathe him so much. Jimmy Woo is brought in handcuffed by a pair of SWORD goons. I'm sorry, who the f is SWORD? Like, they have arrest powers now? Dick says "hey, it's my favorite member of the Bureau." New wishlist: everybody gets to take turns punching AD Dick in the face.

Dick asks his minion to reconfirm mission objectives while Jimmy listens carefully, mentally noting each and every violation of federal law and the Sokovia Accords. 

The minion says she can't get through to not!Vision, his system is overloaded. A cellphone rings on a desk nearby and Jimmy eyes it, then tells Hayward that he'll never be able to cover up these shenanigans. 

While Dick is busy boasting and the SWORD goons are doing everything but paying attention to their prisoner (in my head all the SWORD goons applied to SHIELD but Maria Hill laughed at each and every one of their applications and then called Pepper to laugh some more and then texted choice bits to May tagging them "RE: LOL"), Jimmy eases over and grabs the phone.

"Wanda canceled her show,” Dick says with the sort of confidence only an enormous prick can muster, “so there's no footage proving there was ever more than one Vision."

Jimmy points out that that is dumb, because there is other footage, from SWORD HQ and stuff, and probably evidence of tampering. He casually sits on a table, shaking his head, like he's just so disappointed (i'm hoping he's somehow managed to use the phone to record the monolog-ing) .

Dick is still too far up his own ass to notice Jimmy being sneaky. "No one's going to care once I've eliminated Wanda Maximoff. They'll believe that the Vision that emerges from the Westview rubble is the one she illegally tried to bring back to life."

Wait, bringing him back to life is illegal? You're full of shit, Dick. And also, an extremely terrible person, who will destroy a whole town for … something? A Vision weapon? Who are you fighting, Dick? BTW, I award him no sympathy points for surviving in the post-Snap world. So if he's been scarred by that or whatever, I don't care. Trauma doesn't excuse murdery megalomania. As has been said before: Cool motive, still murder. I hope Vision intangibles him into a lamp post that gets peed on every day by a parade of small dogs.

"They'll thank me for recovering such a valuable asset. You could be part of that victory, Jimmy. If only you had a little more … vision" says the smug prick who is asking for it. And by it I mean something both terrible and humiliating to happen to him asap.

Jimmy fake laughs back. "That's a good one, Hayward. Okay, I'm convinced. The trouble is my friends at Quantico will probably have something to say about your plan. When they arrive. Inside the hour." heh.

Oh, poor Dick doesn't like being mocked back. He tells his brain-dead goons to remove Jimmy. The goons throw Jimmy into a … stack of hay? In a fenced in cage thing? As you have on your pop-up military facility. Where he sets to work removing his handcuffs with a clip he also stole, because Jimmy Woo is cool like that. Close Up Magic! See the things you can learn from criminals. "Flourish" lol. 

He calls his friends at Quantico. "I was hoping you could get here … inside the hour?"

Back in Westview. Wanda is looking for Agatha while the town goes about its business. Weirdo delivery guy drives by "Don't shoot. I'm just the messenger. ha ha."

Then she gets hit in the back by a purple hex. Ouch. She has hit the pavement hard kind of a lot in this episode already. That hurts, my dudes, I know this from personal falling down experience. Wanda's hand, by the way, is still looking ashy and not very healthy.

Agatha taunts her from a rooftop. "Did you know there's an entire chapter devoted to you in the Darkhold." How could she know that, Agatha? Also, boo the Darkhold. That bit of nastiness led to the Framework, and I'm still a little scarred by that myself. "That's the book of the damned," says the witch standing in front of a billboard for "Squeaky Shine" lol.

Agatha produces the Darkhold and recites from it, "The Scarlet Witch is not born, she is forged. She has no coven, nor need for incantation." Wanda insists she isn't a witch, nobody taught her magic.

Agatha continues, "Your power exceeds that of the Sorcerer Supreme" Steven Strange will like that. Not much. He's so twitchy about things like that. "It's your destiny to destroy the world." Always with the destinies. FREE WILL FOREVAH!

Wanda insists she's not the Scarlet Witch thingy. Agatha says "oh really?" and uses her mojo on Emma Caulfield. Hi Emma Caulfield! She seems to be 'awake' and introduces herself to Wanda (who knew her as Dottie) "My name is Sarah. I have a daughter, she's 8, maybe she could be friends with your boys. If you like that storyline. Or the school bully, even. Really anything, if you could just let her out of her room. If I could just hold her." Wow, ouch.

Speaking of free will or the lack of, Wanda accuses Agatha of doing this, but Agatha says "She's your meat puppet. I just cut her strings." Poor Wanda. And now Agatha wakes up the whole town, who all head towards Wanda.

And we cut to Fietro's den of manchildness. Monica asks what that place is, but come on Monica, it's clearly a den of manchildness. Fietro is making himself a smoothie and explaining the purpose of a mancave — chillaxing.

Monica ignores him and rifles through his bills and whatnot. She finds a headshot of Fietro with the name "Ralph Bohner" underneath. Because, people just keep their headshots lying around willynilly. Wait, are we saying Ralph is an actor? Lol. 

Fietro meanwhile is planning for a Steven Segal marathon — my dad and I watched all of those movies and for the life of me I could not tell you why. We didn't *like* them. I mean, mostly we laughed, but still. Why?

Anyway, Monica is trying to solve the mystery of Fietro. It's not Agatha's house (obviously) it's Fietro's (Ralph). He's an ass and asks if she wants to fight some more, so she flips him over her shoulder and pins him down, trying to figure out how Agatha is controlling him. With her new glowy eyes, she notices the bead necklace he's wearing sparkles in a magically way. She rips it off and Fietro becomes Ralph.

Elsewhere the Visions are still battling in the sky and the boys are watching from their bedroom. They lose sight of dad, but Billy gets a vision of mom in trouble in the town square. He and Tommy run off.

The townsfolk are confused and scared. Wanda tells them they're all going to be fine. "When you let us sleep, we have your nightmares." Ouch. Wanda insists she kept them safe. Wanda, sweetie, you're very far in over your head. 

"You feel, you feel at peace," she tells them, kind of hoping that works. It doesn’t. "We feel your pain." "Your grief is poisoning us." "Please let us go." This is an awful thing to do to Wanda, Marvel!

It escalates with all those voices begging her to free them and she screams, grabbing her head, and when she does that, red light appears around the throats of the townies, silencing them, choking them. Wanda realizes and puts her glowy hands up "stop, stop, I'm sorry", releasing them all.

"If you won't let us go, let us die." Wanda promises to let them go. Agatha wonders what's stopping her from actually doing it.  

"Heroes don't torture people." Agatha's a very sink-or-swim kind of teacher.

That does the trick and Wanda throws her arms back and yells to the sky, releasing her power up at the hex surrounding the town. "Go, all of you. Now, go." The people run and the town flickers through the eras and the barrier starts to fall.

Outside, Director Dick tells his morons "this is it, we're going in!"

The Visions keep on battling, but as the barrier falls, Vision starts to falter himself. I was afraid of that.

The Morons roll in with their big trucks and big guns because … reasons. I have a very low opinion of SWORD. Maria Rambeau's agency deserves better than this shitshow.

Vision falls and it looks like bits of him are chipping off. He hits the ground hard, he gets up, but he's glitching, too, falling apart as Wanda takes down her spell. He reaches for her. The boys appear now, too, screaming for mom, but they seem to be flickering as well, flying apart in pixelly pieces. Poor Wanda.

Agatha says "Now do you see? You tied your family to this twisted world and now one can't exist without the other." This is terrible. "Save Westview or save your family." TERRIBLE.

Wanda pulls the hex into herself again, recreating the barrier. The kids and Vision recover and run to her. Outside, as the hex closes, Jimmy Woo is, yet again, left to stare at the barrier, cut off from the fun inside. Poor guy, lol. But, his FBI buddies are arriving, so at least he won't get lonely.

Agatha throws a hex at Wanda and Wanda throws up a shield to protect her family. Which Agatha starts to draw towards herself like the magic vampire she is. Greedy Agatha. Wanda's arms are all gray. And SWORD rolls into town square, because that's what this confrontation needed — these dipshits.

Anyway, the Family stands ready to face Director Dick and his morons, in a quality recreation of the Incredibles family pose. "Listen boys, your mother and I never really prepared you for this," dad says. Because your boys are like three days old, Vision, it's okay. "But you were born for it," Wanda assures them very fiercely. Get 'em, sister!  

As they square off, Vision's like "oh crap, it's the other me, back in a mo'" and flies off to tackle Not!Vision who's trying to sneak up behind them.

They destroy the town library and Vision wants to know why Not!Vision gotta be like that. "My programming directive is to destroy the Vision." 

Ha ha, says Vision, a loophole. "But, I'm not the true Vision, only a conditional Vision."

Hmmm, says Not!Vision, and they stop fighting, "I request elaboration". Hey, Vision, move into Not!Vision's body and you can be true Vision again! Problem solved, my work here is done.

Back to the street where we find Dick and his Morons and Agatha who is not making this situation at all better. The morons point their guns at Agatha who magics them up off the ground like thirty feet in the air, "Same story, different century. There will always be torches and pitchforks for ladies like us, Wanda." I'm not going to say you're wrong, Agatha, and God knows these SWORD morons are morons, but you're also a pain in the ass. So …

Anyway, then Agatha drops them and Wanda reaches out to catch them. But once caught, she does let them drop the last five or six feet. They'll be fine, but also they deserved it, so I laughed.

"Boys, handle the military. Mommy will be right back." They're my new favorite family.

Wanda flies up to tangle with Agatha and Agatha is super ready except … Wanda throws a curveball and disappears. Suck it Agatha.

Down on the ground the SWORD morons continue to cover themselves in glory and point their guns at CHILDREN. I don't care if they're powered children, you know what I'd like, I'd like if one of the morons would just be like "um, but … they're kids and how about no? I'm going to get Jimmy Woo! He'll know what to do. Don't try and stop me!" That doesn't happen.

Billy freezes the soldiers in place and Tommy super speeds by and steals their guns and hats. AD Dick, being the absolutely loathsome, vile, lower-than-a-maggot, piece of shit that he is, gets out of his humvee and shoots at the CHILDREN.

Monica, who has just arrived to the party, runs and throws herself between Dick and the boys, taking the bullets meant for them. Her new powers render her sort of … I don't even know. Not quite intangible, but she kind of looks like a ballistics gel dummy and the bullets go through her but they slow down a lot as they pass and then just sort of fall on the ground. Dick, crossing the line into pure evil, fires again, the bullet misses Monica and heads towards Billy, who just raises his hand and stops it with his power then he grins at Monica.

"Nice tricks," she tells him.

"I like yours, too," he says.

Dick tries to fire AGAIN! But he's out of bullets. He only had four? Or maybe his gun jammed. Anyway, like the brave man he is, he runs to the humvee, gets in, reverses at speed, stops and looks like he's going to put it in gear and drive at them because the dude is unhinged. But! Lo! It's Darcy and the funnel cake truck, that is apparently built like a tank, though come to think of it, it probably was an armored vehicle in the real world.

Anyway, she t-bones Dick's vehicle, thwarting his evility for the moment. "Have fun in prison." Lol

Back to the Visions. They're having a philosophical debate. "You are familiar with the thought experiment "The Ship of Theseus" in the field of identity metaphysics," Vision prompts Not!Vision.

  "Naturally." And Not!Vision helpfully spells it out for us. "The ship of Theseus is in a museum. Over time its planks of wood rot and are replaced with new planks. When no original planks remain, is it still the ship of Theseus?"

  Vision presses his advantage, "Secondly. If those removed planks are restored and reassembled, free of the rot, is that the ship of Theseus?"

To sum up, neither is the true Vision, both are the true Vision.

"But I do not have the mind stone," says not!Vision.

  "And I do not have one single ounce of original material," replies Vision. "Perhaps the rot is the memories. The wear and tear are the voyages. The wood touched by Theseus himself."

Not!Vision says he doesn't have the memories, though, but Vision insists he does, the data is still there, hidden. Not!Vision says nah, Vision must be the true Vision because he believes himself to be. But, Vision says that's not true anymore, he plays the reverse card, "upon meeting you, I have been disabused of that notion." This is the most philosophy nerd game of 'not it' ever.

Vision continues to try to get at Not!Vision's memories. "As a carbon-based synthazoid, your memory storage is not so easily wiped. May I?" Not!Vision allows Vision to touch the glowy bit where the memory stone used to be, and Not!Vision is flooded with Vision's memories. Not!Vision's eyes go … normal, I guess you'd say, no longer robot-like and glowy.

"I am Vision" he says and flies off. It was a lot to take in, I guess. He needs a little me-time.

I guess we're going to have to go back to calling Vision Sitcom!Vision, anyway, he goes outside and the boys run over to him and there's hugging and stuff.

Agatha stalks them from the rooftop, but it seems she might have forgotten Wanda for a second, because Wanda appears behind her and does that thing she does where she makes you see your worst fear. Enjoy that, Agatha!

Agatha sees herself bound to the stake in the woods again. Her coven dead. Wanda is there in the vision, too. "You see the difference between you and me, is that you did this on purpose."

The coven rise from the dead and shuffle to her while Agatha begs for it to stop. But, then Agatha gets control of herself, I guess, and the undead mummy witches start saying Wanda's name and pointing at her. You're just no fun at all, Agatha.

Now the coven ties Wanda to the stake. "You can't win, Wanda. Power isn't your problem; it's knowledge." That is, actually, very true. Wanda's Scarlet Witch headpiece appears on her all magical-like, marking her as the Scarlet Witch of myth, I suppose.

"Give me your power, and I will correct the flaws in your original spell. And you and your family and the people of Westview can all live together in peace."

If Agatha is so smart, why doesn't she just take Wanda's power, hmm?

"And no one will ever have to feel this pain again. Not even you," Agatha tries cajoling, but that was the wrong tack to take. Wanda gives her the head tilt of imminent ass-kicking, and her powers explode outward, flinging way the weird creepy coven of zombie mummies. Then Wanda knocks them both back into Westview.

She starts hammering Agatha with her powers. "Take it, I don't want it." Vision tries to fly up to help her, but she blocks him with a spell.

Witch fight in the clouds. Every time Wanda misses Agatha, her hexes hit the shield. Outside Jimmy Woo looks on, concerned.

"There's more," Agatha says, "I want it all." Wanda's looking a little mummified, but she's still flinging hexes left and right while Agatha cackles evilly. Eventually Wanda runs out of steam and just sort of hovers there.

"About our deal. Once case, a spell can never be changed." You're terrible, Agatha. Very cruel. "This world will always be broken. Just. Like. You." Low, Agatha. Lower than dirt

Agatha gathers herself and tries to hit out at Wanda with all that yummy power but it just fizzles. Nothing happens. Oh noes, Agatha, what's wrong?

Wanda starts looking like her normal self again and behind her glows a giant rune. Oh, dear, Agatha, you taught Wanda something. When she was missing Agatha and hitting the shield all those times, she was actually casting runes. LOL to you.

The sky is angry and red and stormy. Monica, Vision, and the boys look on.

"In a given space," Wanda says, "only the witch who cast them [runes] can use her magic. Thanks for the lesson, but, I don't need you to tell me who I am."

 The Scarlet Witch headpiece reappears and now Agatha has her a fright. I like you Agatha, you're rotten in fun way, but you took it too far, sister. Wanda takes her power back with prejudice and she is transformed into the Scarlet Witch. Updated version of the classic costume. Nice, I like it.

"Oh god," Agatha gasps, "You don't know what you've done." Wanda drops her on the ground more gently than she deserved.

Agatha asks if Wanda's going to lock her up somewhere. And Wanda says, yeah, here in lovely Westview. "I'll give you the role you chose; the nosy neighbor."

"You have no idea what you've unleashed. You're gonna need me." "If I do, I know where to find you." lol

And Wanda turns Agatha back into Agnes. "Hiya, hon. Say, that some kind of getup you're wearing. Did I leave the oven on, or is that just you, hot stuff."

Wanda says goodbye and walks over to her family, kissing her boys.

Vision says their dream home has turned into a fixer-upper. "I know you'll set everything right. Just not for us."

"No," Wanda agrees because Marvel likes to hurt us all. "Not for us."

Monica kind of bounces on her toes, trying to get Wanda's attention, but probably also not entirely wanting Wanda's attention. Wanda gives her a hesitant nod as she and Vision leave with the boys.

The field around town starts to shrink, the circus turns back into the SWORD base.

They get home and tuck the boys into bed.

"Big day today," Vision says. "Your mother and I … are very proud of you both."

"Very proud," Wanda agrees. "You know, a family is forever. We could never truly leave each other, even if we tried. You know that right?"

They kiss their boys goodnight. Outside the window, the field flickers and fails. "Boys, thanks for choosing me to be your mom."

The town of Westview returns to its sad old self, street by street. Wanda turns out the lights in their home.

But, Vision turns one back on. "Oh, I read somewhere, that it's bad luck to say goodbye in the dark." "No, you didn't." You guys are killing me.

Why did this have to be so good and sad?

And finally the collapsing field reaches their street, they watch it coming. 

"Wanda, I know we can't stay like this, but before I go, I feel I must know, what am I?"

She touches his face. "You, Vision, are the piece of the mind stone that lives in me. You are a body of wires and blood and bone that I created. You are my sadness and my hope, but mostly you're my love." Stupid show, my screen went blurry there for a second.

Vision cries a bit, they both are a little astonished by the tear. 

"I have been a voice with no body, a body but not human. And now, a memory, made real. Who knows what I might be next." Aww, Vision, I love you.

Here comes the field.

"We have said goodbye before, so it stands to reason—" "We'll say hello again." STUPID SHOW why do you have to make me feel things?

The field collapses and everything is stripped back into nothing. "So long, darling." And Wanda stands in the empty lot, in the foundations of the home that never was.

She walks away again. Poor Wanda. And back into town. The people look at her, they don't seem happy. I don't know why she chose to do that, she does have a car. Ah, she's going to talk to Monica.

"They'll never know what you sacrificed for them," Monica says. "It wouldn't change how they see me," Wanda tells her. "And you? You don't … you don't hate me?" "Given the chance, and given your power, I'd bring my mom back. You know I would." "I'm sorry, for all the pain I caused."

Wanda promises to figure out her power and then files off. The End.

Heartbreaking. Good, but heartbreaking.

Mid-credits scene. Jimmy Woo is large and in charge. He's setting up the incident response in town, ordering folks around (in his good natured way).

Jimmy spots his friend. "Monica!" "Authority looks good on you, Jimmy." "Where's Darcy?" "Something about ‘debriefs are for the weak’?" lol "But we can thank her for that." 

And down the street AD Dick is being arrested. Nobody punched him in the face. I'm sad. Darcy came closest, I guess. What with hitting him with the very large truck. It will have to do.

Monica is summoned to the theater by another agent. Hmm nobody there. The agent follows. "I was sent by an old friend of your mother's." And the agent is a Skrull. "He heard you'd been grounded. He'd like to meet with you."

"Where?"

The Skrull points up. 

What was Fury's Skrull buddy's name? I don't recall. I didn't actually like the Captain Marvel movie. I felt like they told it backwards, and also they should have just cast a younger actor to play young Nick Fury. That bugged me. And I wanted more of Annette Benning’s character. Anyway … I guess we know where we’ll see Monica again. 

Well, that was fun. Like I said, I'm not sure what I expected from this series, just that it be some degree of fun, I guess. But it was much better than whatever I had half-envisaged. AND SADDER, MARVEL.

Thank goodness for the multi-verse. I'm sure we'll see some version of the boys again. And also Not!Vision, who is probably also Vision at this point, knocking around the world, trying to find himself. Talk about identity crisis. I feel you, brother. Stay safe, get plenty of whatever passes for rest for you!

See you guys in a couple of weeks for Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I WANT NO TEARS FROM THAT ONE! Unless it's tears of laughter. 

ETA: FOR THE SECOND POST CREDITS SCENE THAT I MISSED. Stupid Marvel hiding things from me. Thank you, @beelzebufo

Mountains, a mountain lake, a place I’d like to be right now. Wanda sits on the porch of her lonely little cabin. The tea kettle whistles and she goes inside. There’s a rattling and whispering from the other room, where the astral projection(?) of the Scarlet Witch reads the Darkhold and her children call for her. I don’t know, Wanda, seems dicey, that’s not a very nice book. 

FOR REAL THE END THIS TIME

[ateezmakemeweep]

on one condition.

seonghwa x reader; a walk to remember au

word count: 19k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death and terminal illness)

park seonghwa had always been a troubled boy. 

and not in the cheesy, cliche 'bad boy' way, like he's parading around town with a motorcycle and worn leather jacket. 

in the 'he has absolutely no regard for himself or others' type of way. he doesn't care if he hurts himself in an attempt to prove he's the best nor does he care if he hurts anybody with his words or fists.

this all started fairly early in his life, showing questionable behaviors at the ripe age of eleven.

it started with skipping classes, asking to go to the bathroom and then meeting his friend's outside on the field; there had never been a child sent to the principal's office as many times as him that year.

by middle school, it had quickly escalated. 

vandalizing obscene objects and words onto the bathroom stall or spray painting on the back of the school. he was intelligent though, both naturally book and street smart, so he knew to wear black attire and a mask; he was only almost caught once.

his last few years of high school now consist of women and fighting.

because if he wasn't pounding into the newest girl of the week, telling her that that was fun but she knows where the door is, he was smacking some kid's head off the pavement for no other reason than that he could. 

that he had such uncontrollable rage in his body, probably from being stuck with and accustomed to the delinquent ways of his friends, that it was the only thing to make him feel better.

because he couldn't deny it, he didn't like who he was.

you had always been a good girl. 

and quite literally in the cheesy, cliche way: sweaters and a nonexistent dating life and your nose always in a book if you weren't at the church your dad preached at every sunday.

you didn't mind your simple, solitary life. 

you had gotten used to being alone and you didn't ever care when people made fun of you for it. because you liked your sweaters and reading and even spending your days after school tutoring younger kids.

it was a place you went every monday through friday, accustomed to the children and other helpers, mainly teachers, that were in the stuffy school library. 

you were surprised to see none other than park seonghwa walk through the doors one afternoon, looking around at the layout of bookshelves and tables like it's the first time he's ever seeing it.

you tried not to watch him float around the room, a blank expression on his face as he settled for standing in front of the main desk waiting for instruction. he was leaned against the wood with his arms folded and jaw set, a very obvious distaste and annoyance present on the boy.

you continued to work with the younger 7th grader who couldn't quite grasp the concept of solving for x, ignoring the way the head teacher pranced over and spoke hushly to the boy.

"and what exactly are you doing here, mr. park?"

seonghwa felt dread fill him immediately, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the teacher who kicked him out of class everyday back in tenth grade.

"tutoring," is all he says, surprised and ready to punch the older man in the mouth when he lets out a scoff.

because apparently after your third strike for starting a brawl in the cafeteria, the only options were suspension or helping out the very understaffed, depressing after-school programs along with an extra research project.

"how long?" the boy asked the principal who sat across from him, a large man with kind eyes despite the destruction the student in front of him has brought into the school since the day he started.

"the rest of the year, mr. park."

seonghwa's eyebrow raised as he truly considered suspension. 

because at least that would only be two weeks of sleeping in and dicking around, not eight months of excruciating 'volunteer' work with bratty preteens and mundane class work. 

that's why he got up and went towards the doorway, throwing a mock wink at the man.

"i think i'll take the suspension, sir."

but the chipper man laughed like he was told the funniest joke he's ever heard, rising from his throne and walking over to pat seonghwa's shoulder. 

"you'll start on monday in the library."

and now he sees he severely underestimated just how tragic today was gonna be, sitting across from a boy who's just as pissed off as him about being here.

"what do you need help with?" seonghwa finally asks after five minutes of silence, leaning back in his chair as he observes the scrawny boy.  

"i don't know, i don't even need this stupid help," the younger boy snaps, the words already getting under seonghwa's skin. "they forced me to be here."

"well, that makes two of us," he mumbles, his eyes moving to the test paper sticking out of the boy's backpack marker with red x's. "but it seems like you do need help, kid. a 42 is shitty."

your eyes widen hearing those words fall from his mouth, clearing your throat and throwing him a chastising look when he meets your gaze; he only rolls them and moves his stare into the kid's beady, brown eyes.

"now don't waste my time and i won't waste yours. open your book," seonghwa demands, the coldness in his tone visibly throwing off the boy.

you feel your heart grow heavy at the student's dejected, frustrated face, your chest burning with the need to yell at and scold seonghwa.

because that's the last way to approach a child already struggling and getting in trouble by his teachers and parents. 

he needs to be shown the problem in different ways until he finds out which one works for him and that's through someone's patience, kindness and genuine desire to help them - which is exactly what you tell seonghwa when 4:30 rolls around.

"thanks for the advice, y/n, but i think i'll be getting this shit over with my own way," he says, glaring at you before he attempts to leave.

you're quick to squeak out "wait," walking around until you're standing in front of him.

"look, i know you probably don't wanna be here," you tell him softly, gently, like the way you talk to kids who also don't wanna be doing work they don't understand. "but you can't take it out on them. you need to at least be nice and try to help him not only pass but also understand it. that's the whole-"

"I could give a shit if the kid passes or not," he snaps at you, pinched glare roaming over your face. "we're all not perfect little angels like you, y/n."

he's known you since elementary school, has watched you parade around with ugly sweaters and books and entertain the kids people avoid because they either spit on you when they talk or go on for hours about nonsense.

some people might find that commendable, that you give everyone a chance and seem to be completely pure and good, but he finds it incredibly irritating - he always had, watching you grow up through the years and feeling some sense of pity for you. 

because no one could genuinely be that kind and unbothered by the fact that they have no friends. that they smile in the faces of their bullies and give even the weirdest of kids the time of day.

"that's not why i'm saying it, seonghwa," you tell him softly. "i just want you to take this seriously. these kids need help."

"they need help when you're the one tutoring kids for fun," seonghwa scoffs, feeling himself grow more agitated and bitter as he talks down to you. "i don't know if you realize how sad that is."

but then in a strange twist of fate, it feels like you're the one talking down to him. because you can only find it in you to shake your head at him and meet his tense gaze.

"more sad than you needing to be forced to help anyone but yourself?"

whether he wants to admit it or not, your comment rings in his head for the rest of the day. he knows he's selfish and a bit of a dick but hearing it put so bluntly to his face causes his chest to churn uncomfortably.

"what does that bitch know anyway?" hongjoong coughs out after passing him a joint. "she's been a tight ass since birth."

"and it's only gotten worse with age," san says before he lets out a thoughtful hum. "but you know... she'd probably be hot if she wasn't such a prude."

the two boys in front throw him a disgusted look, seonghwa blowing smoke directly in the boy's face. 

"you're that desperate for a fuck, huh?"

san swats at the smoke around his face, rolling his eyes at his friends glassy, red eyes. 

"no! i'm just saying."

seonghwa can only picture you in his mind, sporting your ugly green sweater and worn sneakers, bare face looking at him with wide, innocent eyes and softly spoken words.

"don't see it," the boy grumbles out, hongjoong snorting next to him as he reaches out to grab the joint back.

"you know he could be on to something though," the driver says, placing the paper between his lips. "it's always the quiet ones who are freaks."

"ha, like you'd know pussy boy," san says, earning a loud smack on his mouth. 

seonghwa can only smirk at his two friends, knowing damn well you're the type of girl who's probably gonna die a virgin.

"so what do you know about acute triangles?" seonghwa asks the boy, clenching his fists under the table because how fucking hard is it to remember this?

he'd been working with him for almost two weeks now and he's been slowly making progress. 

some would say that the improvement in itself was a good sign but seonghwa was convinced if the boy had someone more cut out for this, he would've learned it by now.

he wouldn't be staring down at the blank paper with a questioning gaze on his face or religiously spend the first thirty minutes in a tense silence.

"there are....three angles," the boy says, uncertainty laced in his tone; seonghwa can only nod his head because wow, yeah, good job.

"okay. and what about them?"

the boy swallows nervously, eyes boring in to his like he's gonna help him out - he only stares back blankly, raising his eyebrow challengingly. 

and once the student sees that, remembers seonghwa's harshly spoken words reminding him to pay attention in class so they can both stop this bullshit, he blurts out "i don't know!"

seonghwa lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head. the boy lets out a loud, frustrated groan, throwing his pencil across the room and springing up from his chair.

"fuck this! this is so stupid!"

you watch as seonghwa just stares at the boy with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest and you just know he's trying not to roll his eyes or scream back. 

before the man can say anything 'comforting' back, the younger student stomps off and rips open the library door.

several other kids softly murmur to each other before they get back to work, your eyes moving to seonghwa who hasn't uncrossed his arms. you quietly tell the student you're working with to try the next problem by themselves, walking over to seonghwa and taking the previously occupied seat.

"he's just frustrated," you tell him softly, hoping to ease the obvious tension on seonghwa's face and body. 

you had trouble when you first started too, remember feeling dejected and upset that the kids would get mad, and thinking that you couldn't help them.

his eyes flicker to meet yours but he's quick to look away, seeing the soft compassion and care in them; it always makes him uncomfortable when someone doesn't look at him in disgust or annoyance.

"what do you want from me?"

he misses your face fall ever so slightly, a quiet sigh leaving your mouth as you shrug your shoulders. 

"i just wanna help you, seonghwa," you tell him softly, knowing it's important for both of them to get something out of this. "it might help teaching him in a different way. maybe something he can relate to more."

"and how do you recommend i do that, princess?" he snarls at you, shoving his seat back and stomping towards the exit. 

you notice the head teacher's about to say something when you catch his gaze and shake your head slowly; to your surprise, he lets the boy go with a simple roll of his eyes.

you continue working with your student until 4:30 rolls around, your eyes occasionally moving to the empty table and library door. neither seonghwa nor his student ever came back and it causes a sinking feeling in your stomach.

you wait around for five extra minutes, cleaning the tables and putting your books away before figuring both of the unmotivated boys just ditched. as you're walking out the door to your car, you hear the familiar sound of a basketball bouncing off the gym floor.

so, albeit nosily, you peek your head in and feel your lips quirk up when you see seonghwa's tall frame next to the boy. the two of them are standing a few feet away from the hoop, a rare hint of a smile on the man's face as the both of them move around the floor.

"so this would be a....?" you hear seonghwa ask, the boy immediately responding with "acute angle! and it's less than 90 degrees," who then proceeds to take the ball from him and shoot; in a tragic turn of events, he misses.

seonghwa lets out a playful scoff as he catches the ball with ease.

"used all your brain power for that you can't even get it in, huh?" he teases, throwing the ball with one hand and watching with a cocky smirk as it shoots through.

"you're a showoff," the boy mumbles and you bite your lip so you don't let out a giggle, watching as seonghwa dribbles the ball away from the boy who chases after him. 

you leave the gym as chuckles ring through the air, feeling your heart tug at the fact in all the years you've known seonghwa, you think that’s the first time you've heard him laugh.

you're surprised to see his good mood carries over into the next day. 

sure, he's not being overly happy or nice but he's genuinely helping the student with his work, a focused expression and strong voice as he explains the problems slowly. 

you try to contain your smile, thinking maybe your hope in him isn't misplaced until you decide to tell him he's doing a good job.

"what?"

"you're working well with him," you say softly, turning to wave at the boy when you hear him say goodbye to you both. "he really seems to be getting better."

"yeah," is all he says, tone clipped and short. 

you look over to see his jaw is tight, body defensive and on alert so it's probably in your best interest to not mention you seeing them in the gym yesterday.

"it's hard at first for everyone,” you continue encouragingly. “but then i think once you break that barrier, it's gonna get-"

"why are you talking to me, y/n?"

his short, harsh tone causes your face to fall and for a split second, he feels bad. 

he knows you're just doing what you always do, showing people unwavering decency and kindness, but those are things he, both, can't relate to and finds makes him uncomfortable. 

he doesn’t want you to think just because he helped one kid out that means he's a reformed pupil.

"i just wanted to-"

"well don't," he says, picking up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. "it's bad enough i have to do this. i don't need you talking down to me also."

"i'm not talking down to you/ it's called encouragement, seonghwa."

"then don't encourage me. just ignore me the way i intend to ignore you." 

you're left alone in the library watching the door slam behind him.

and true to his word, he doesn't look your way or entertain conversation with you for the rest of the week. anytime your eyes meet, he'd quickly advert them and makes sure to be out the door the second the clock strikes 4:30.

and today, as you rush to your car in the pouring rain, you mull over in your head what you could have possibly done to the boy to make him so wary of you. 

time and time again, you've just tried to help him. give him advice and make the whole process easier for him but he just lashes out.

then again, you haven't done anything to the general population at school and they still make fun of you. and it's for the stupidest of things: your 'grandma sweaters' apparently the bane of their existence or the fact that you're studious and care about your schoolwork.

you don't allow their words to get to you, though, because you were taught to always be kind and respect others. that if people are mean to you, it's because they're unhappy about something within themselves.

even so, a part of you has always been intrigued by park seonghwa, whether it be because of his obvious good looks or some feeling deep within you that knows he's not as bad as he portrays himself to be. 

through the rain as you think, you see the drenched boy, hood up and head down, as he walks on the sidewalk.

you don’t even think twice about pulling up next to him, roll down your window and ignore the way he side-eyes you.

"do you want a ride?" you ask him quietly, surprised he's even heard you over the roar of the rain; but he's quick to shake his head silently and continue on his way. 

you let out a sigh before following behind him, asking him one more time because he really is drenched and it's starting to get dark and cold.

"you're gonna get sick," you say to him, causing the boy to stop in his tracks and stare you down.

"and what does that matter to you?"

you only raise your eyebrow at him, reaching over to open the door and smiling softly as an invitation. he rolls his eyes as he huffs, looking down at his drenched sneakers and feeling it seep into his socks.

some part deep within him feels ashamed to accept your kindness after the way he's treated you but he gets in and slams the door anyway. a real stand up guy he is.

"happy?" he grumbles. 

you only smirk as you hum softly, eyes peering down to the seatbelt buckle before going back to the road. you feel his gaze on you as you drive, a loud huff leaving him after you stop at the third stop sign.

"what?" you ask, looking both ways before taking your foot off the break.

"how the hell do you get anywhere," he grunts out in annoyance, feeling around in his pocket for a cigarette and agitated when he finds he doesn't have a pack on him.

"it appears i drive like a grandmother, too," you mumble, a snort leaving his nose as he shakes his head.

a few moments of silence pass before you stop at a red light. 

"i don't get you," he suddenly says, causing you to look over at him.

"what do you mean?"

"you really just... don't care about what other people think of you?"

you can't help but smile at the puzzled expression on his face, shrugging your shoulders as you look at him. 

"no."

his eyebrow raises, something about your soft, small smile causing him to squirm in his seat. 

"why not?"

"because why do they matter?" you ask quietly. "while i can, i'm gonna live the way i want."

a quiet hum leaves the boy's mouth, at the time not realizing how strange that sentence was coming from a teenage girl.

he just couldn't understand how a young person would want to live such a sad, quiet life between the covers of books and walls of church. how someone could go on smiling and being happy when they had no friends to make memories with.

"seems like a sad way to live," is all he finds himself saying, a smirk playing at your lips as your brain quips back with a sassy comment - but because you're you, your mouth doesn't open to respond. 

you simply shrug your shoulders again, looking back at the light just as it turns green.

the rest of the ride is silent as you make your way to seonghwa's, asking him a few times for directions until your car is sitting in front of his house.

"thanks, y/n."

"you're welcome, seonghwa."

he turns to you to see your gaze already on him, his eyes narrowing at you ever so slightly. you send him a small, innocent, almost unsure smile and he feels himself grow less guarded.

"i'll see you monday?" you ask, slightly uncomfortable by the silence as you two just look at each other with uncertainty. 

the boy next to you shakes himself out of his daze, stuttering out "y-yeah.”

he slams your door shut, not hearing your car pull away until he opens the door to his house.

after your tutoring session, you stayed behind at 4:30 to make a study guide for your student and expected to be the only one there - which is why you were surprised to hear footsteps coming your way and even more surprised when you met the familiar dark eyes of-

"seonghwa," you say as you put your pen down on the table. "what're you still doing here?"

"i could ask you the same thing," he says, peeking at the paper before taking the seat across from you.

that's when you knew he was about to ask for something, like a pardon from this 'stupid volunteer work' (as if you have the authority to do that) or to cover for him one day this week so he can go do whatever normal destruction he does on the weekdays.

because in all the years you've known park seonghwa, he has never initiated a conversation with you.

"i'm making a study guide for my student," you tell him. "she's still having a bit of trouble so i'm hoping this will help her."

he nods his head at you, resting his elbows on the table as he watches you write with concentration for a few silent minutes. 

"but i know you don't care about that," you say to him quietly before meeting his intense gaze. "so why are you here?"

he lets out a sigh, running his hand through his hair that seems to be out of nervousness - but in what kind of sick, confused world is a man like him nervous to talk to a girl like you?

"i need your help with something."

your eyebrow raises as you look at him, dropping your pen on the table and the noise echoes through the quiet, empty library.

"is... park seonghwa asking for my help?"

he rolls his eyes before blankly staring at you, the dead look in his eye causing you to giggle softly. 

"what do you need help with?"

your giggle and soft tone relax him ever so slightly, popping his neck to the side and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his dramatics. 

"i'm- uh, i'm supposed to write a play for my class."

"okay..." you say as you nod your head. "and you need help...writing it? editing it? coming up with ideas?"

his mind starts to swarm with slight panic and uncertainty, completely out of his element and comfort zone. he doesn't know the first thing about writing fucking plays, you couldn't pay him enough money to even sit through one.

"uh...all of it," he says with a wince. "but i know you're like... a theater geek."

you can't help the snort that leaves you, shaking your head as you look at the boy in front of you. 

"a theater geek?"

"not like that," he says, tone desperate and unsure and you can hear how uncomfortable he is asking for help. "i just mean like you're probably...good at that stuff."

"ahh, because i'm a big fat nerd, right?"

his eyes close at the horrific turn this has taken; he can't even ask you for help without insulting you. 

"i didn't mean it like that, y/n."

you watch him for a few moments, hands in his hair as his leg starts to bounce and you decide to finally put him out of his misery. 

“i'm just kidding. i'll help you."

his head snaps up immediately, face once ridden by anxiety and panic full of surprise and relief. "really?!"

"really," you say with a smile. "but i'm only gonna assist you. you have to do most of it, okay?"

"yeah, right, of course," he grunts out, already bored and over this conversation.

"and you have to take it seriously. on the days we do it, you're gonna have to be focused, seonghwa."

"i wouldn't have put myself through this and asked you if i wasn't gonna take it seriously," he grumbles, watching you furrow your eyebrows at him and quickly realizing he's falling into his dick-ish ways before mumbling out an apology. 

"i mean, of course, yeah."

"thank yo-," he says before you cut him off.

"and on one more condition, seonghwa."

he raises his eyebrow at you, nodding his head as he looks at you awaitingly.  he knows it's probably gonna be something stupid like to try his very best or make it from the heart; but the last thing he expects to hear is:

"you have to promise you won't fall in love with me."

everything in him stills as he looks at you, trying to figure out if you're joking with him until he sees how seriously you're looking at him. he almost feels bad at the blatant laugh that bubbles out of him, his hand coming up to (fakely) wipe his mouth.

"uh...yeah, okay, that shouldn't be a problem," he says, humor and amusement heavy in his tone. it doesn't make you feel bad because you just nod your head and shrug your shoulders.

"okay!"

"okay," he says a few seconds later, a small grateful smile on his face. "thank you, y/n."

"you're welcome."

you can't help but smile back because it really seems as if he's trying to better himself now. 

apply himself more and show people that he's more than just some 'cool' guy who gets in trouble. he asked for help and that's the first step in anything required to get better and grow as person.

but sometimes people will ask for help, receive help, and it still won't be enough. 

because just the next day, you see him in the cafeteria with his group of friends. and perhaps it was ballsy of you in the first place to see him and hold his eye contact and greet him with a smile that only led him to divert his gaze.

that should've made it obvious that going over to him was not gonna be a good idea.

but you thought you were seeing a change in him, you were so excited to see him work with the students and take an initiative to do his project, so you walk over and say hi to him.

"hi, seonghwa," you say sweetly, waving at his friends who just look at you with a bewildered expression. "do you wanna start working on your play after tutoring today?"

the second him and his friends let out sarcastic laughs, you know he's about to disappoint you.

"i think you're lost, princess," he says, tone full of venom and spite. "we'd never do anything together."

"unless, of course, you're willing to show him what's under that sweater," his friend next to him says, his eyes roaming over your body and making you back up uncomfortably.

"hongjoong," the tallest one says warningly, like he's probably the only good one within this group.

"oh fuck off yunho, she needs a little fun."

your eyes never leave seonghwa's, the tight, hard look melting slightly since his bickering friends are now distracted. the change in them doesn't make you feel any better, instead nodding your head at him and quietly saying "okay, never mind then. sorry."

the fact that you apologize makes him feel like a piece of shit for the rest of the day, even caused him to lash out at hongjoong for saying that pervy comment to you and then get kicked out of his last class.

which is how he catches you right before tutoring starts at 3:15, grabbing you by the elbow and ushering you into the tiny computer lab against your softly-spoken protests. 

he closes the door behind him and turns to see you staring at him blankly.

"just hear me out, y/n."

"i don't think there's anything to hear out," you tell him softly. "you made it obvious you don't need my help anymore."

you're about to go around him when he grabs your arm again, your body stiffening immediately causing him to let go. 

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't...i shouldn't have done that."

it's like the fact that he knows it was wrong is making it worse. he knew it would hurt you and make him look bad but he did it anyway to prove a point to his friends.

"but you did," you say quietly. "and i know you don't care, seonghwa, but i really thought you were trying to be better."

he lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance; he really knows how to fuck things up.

"i was. i am. that's why i need your help. please y/n."

a group of kids come barreling through, the girl you're working with catching your eye as she takes a seat at the normal table. you meet seonghwa's gaze that's staring down at you, eyes regretful and tense.

you know it's only because now he's not getting something out of you, not because he genuinely cares about you being upset and disappointed.

"the drama teacher is really nice," you tell him softly, sending him a small smile as you tighten your bag around your shoulder. "you could probably sit in with her and get some pointers."

"but i wanted you to-"

he can't even finish his sentence when you move passed him and out the door, his body whirling around to see you wave at the curious younger girl. 

he watches you meet his gaze once more before they flicker back down to the table, your heart sinking every so slightly because you were stupid to think he was capable of changing.

seonghwa was shocked by how much it annoyed him that you were ignoring him. 

that anytime he tried to get your attention, you would just smile dismissively and busy yourself. that you no longer lingered at the end of the day or gave him words of praise and encouragement that used to piss him off so badly.

it, oddly enough, made the next few weeks drag on even longer, his afternoons now an even more dull and dreary experience.

that's why on friday, purely out of selfishness, he ended his session with the boy five minutes early and waited outside the library like some sort of creep; if this was the only way to talk to you, it appeared he was gonna do it.

you open the door to leave, fishing through your backpack for the keys buried at the bottom, and look up just in time so you don't smack right into seonghwa's large frame.

"hi."

you narrow your eyes at him, his body and face lacking its usual confidence and smugness.

"hi."

the two of you just look at one another, your eyes confused and awaiting while his hold a twinge of insecurity and nervousness.

you had been making it a point to steer clear of him these past weeks, dodging him in the hallways and cafeteria when you noticed him and completely avoiding his presence during tutoring.

"are you gonna make me beg?"

your eyebrows shoot up at his lowly spoken words, head turning to the side in confusion. 

"what?"

"i miss your stupid encouragement, okay," he blurts out suddenly. "and i miss talking to you. i want...i want you to help me with my play."

you let out a shaky exhale, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to gauge his mood. he could just be saying all of this to get what he wants and make his life easier.

"what's wrong with the drama teacher?" you ask him. "she's nice. i'll even ask her if you can-”

"she's not you."

you swallow the lump in your throat at his words, panicking slightly at how your heart and stomach just reacted; you should not be so effected by him after the way he's treated you.

"that's kind of the point," you tell him, voice strong despite the way you're shaking inside. "it seems as if that's what you wanted the other week."

he lets out an annoyed huff, taking a few steps closer to you and looking straight at you. 

"that was wrong and i'm sorry, y/n, i am," he says to you, watching your gaze soften as he all but begs you. "but i'm trying here. and i need your help."

you truly take the time to assess him, look him up and down to gauge if he really is trying -  you suppose you won't really be able to tell until you start working with him though. 

and you can't ignore the fact that, no matter how he's treated you or anyone else, he's here and genuine and asking for help again.

a sigh leaves your mouth as you shake your head at him, cursing the fact that's he's not only handsome but persuasive (or at least sly enough to pick the right victims that can't say no to helping people).

the silence that stretches between you two makes him ready to jump out of his skin, not knowing at all what to make of your flickering eyes and blank expression.

he nearly topples over when you mutter out “fine. but all the same conditions still apply, seonghwa. even if you're...embarrassed to be seen with me, we still have to do the work and-"

"i'm not embarrassed," he's quick to clarify, your eyebrow shooting up at his blatant lie. "i'm not," he repeats.

you shake your head at him before taking out your car keys and swirling them around your finger. 

"well, whatever, it doesn't even matter," you tell him quietly. "just get ready to start working next week, okay?"

the boy nods, thanking you one more time and feeling a twinge in his chest when you smile back and send him a little wave. 

he didn't expect to feel so much lighter after the conversation, no longer having a pit in his stomach or hearing that small voice in the back of his head scream at him.

but because he's not completely reformed, he distracts himself with one of the many girls interested in him or with his friends as they smoke and drive around their boring little town.

the boring little town that has an eerie little cemetery just a few blocks from his house.

most days when he walks home, he goes the opposite way because there's something very unsettling to him about death and dying and mourning. he hadn't dealt with any loss in his life properly, going off the rails when his dad left and then again with alcohol and drugs when his grandpa died.

he was actually buried right in that cemetery and for whatever reason that sunday night, something was telling him to pass by and visit.

he turns the corner and catches the sight of your hair, stopping in his tracks to watch as you open the old, iron gate and walk right in the dark cemetery alone.

"what are you doing," he mumbles curiously to himself, his interest fully peaked as he speeds up his footsteps to follow after you.

he watches you weave in and out of the headstones, backpack in one hand and blanket in the other as you stand in front of a tombstone and bow your head to pray.

if anything makes him more uncomfortable than death, it's religion. 

maybe because he's not sure himself what or who he believes in, fascinated by people who can fully put all of their faith in something that has no proof. 

regardless, he waits until you raise your head and lay out your blanket, placing a few books down next to you as you sit criss-cross style in front of the tombstone.

"so this is how you live on the edge huh? sneaking around a cemetery at night."

you jump at the teasing, deep voice, snapping your head to the side and smiling slightly at the sight of seonghwa. 

he's dressed in his usual all black, a sliver chain hanging from his neck and a beanie over his dark hair - devastatingly handsome, per usual.

"no sneaking," you tell him. "but that's you, apparently. i didn't even hear you come in."

he shrugs his shoulders as he sticks his hands in his pockets, eyes curiously taking in his surroundings. you watch him look around the cemetery with slight discomfort, his eyes focused on the back corner where a large oak tree stands.

"so were you actually following me?" you ask him, causing him to rip his gaze and look down at you. "or are you here to see someone?"

a few beats of silence pass before he answers.

"would it be weird to admit i followed you?"

a smile covers your face, teeth in your bottom lip as you try to contain a laugh. 

"not much weirder than me spending my sunday night in a cemetery, i suppose."

a short, deep chuckle leaves his mouth as he rocks on his feet, looking down at his boots so you don't see his own smile forming. 

"guess that's true,” he mutters lowly but you’re able to somehow catch it. he looks up when he hears your hand tapping on the blanket-covered ground. 

"you can sit, if you want."

for whatever reason, he accepts the invitation immediately. he keeps a good distance between the both of you, his butt just hanging off the edge as he can't help but stare at the headstone in front of him.

he wouldn't dare ask about it because how can he just so casually ask which dead relative of yours you're sitting in front of?

"my mom," you say quietly, because it's hard not to know what he's thinking. "she died giving birth to me."

his eyes widen at your confession, a low curse leaving his mouth. 

"shit."

you nod your head, placing your chin on your hand as you look at the death date. 

"yeah. it's always a little weird to see my birthday as the day she died."

seonghwa watches your face as you look at the tombstone, surprised not to see sadness or sorrow but the same look of compassion and pureness that always seems to be on your face. 

and now with the glow of the moon on you, he's realizing that you are kind of pretty. in a unique, natural way but pretty nonetheless.

if he thought he was surprised to be thinking these thoughts at a moment like this, he's even more surprised when he finds himself asking, "why do you come here then?"

the question holds no malice or judgement, just a genuine curiosity that you perhaps understand. while it's fairly common for people to visit their loved ones graves, it’s also something that some get uncomfortable with or don't understand.

"to talk to her, i guess. i think she'd wanna know what's going on in my life."

he mulls over your response in his head, nodding in understatement even though he doesn't really get it.

"what do you talk to her about?" and for the life of him, he can't understand why he's so interested in this. in you, all of the sudden.

you turn to look at him, slightly surprised that he's taking the lead in the conversation and showing an interest. you don’t want him to misconstrue your gaze on him so you quickly look back at the grave as you shrug your shoulders.

"anything really. i tell her about school or my dad's sermons or what i did during the weekend. sometimes i'll just read."

he nods his head again, looking over at the grave and wondering how much this piece of stone has heard about your life.

do you tell it how people treat you at school? how much you volunteer your time to help others and make them better? maybe even how you've been trying to help him but might see him as a lost cause.

he hears the sound of a paper rustling and turns his head to see you, pen in hand, scribbling down something on your book; even though it's nosy and intrusive, he peaks over out of curiosity.

"bucket list?" he asks aloud. 

a smirk pulls at your lips as you nod your head silently, scribbling down a #4 on the page.  "do you have one?" you ask him quietly, meeting his eyes that are boring into the side of your face.

"can't say i do," he hum, "although i definitely have a lot of stuff i wanna do."

"like what?" you ask, trying not to show just how interested you are in finally getting to know something about this elusive boy. it falls flat when you see him lower his head and shrug his shoulders, immediately closing himself back up.

"i don't know," he mumbles, suddenly feeling embarrassed and on the spot.

you let out a small giggle, turning the page and ripping out a piece of paper before handing it to him. he looks down in surprise before taking it from your hands, your fingertips brushing and he can't help but notice how cold your skin is.

"writing it down might help."

you place the pen in between you both, letting the book lie on your lap as you lean back on your hands; his eyes can't help but fall down to peak at the page.

"fall in love, get married, see the ocean," you hear his deep voice read before he sees ".....get a tattoo?!" he asks, voice raising slightly as he looks at you in surprise.

"is that so hard to believe?" you ask, a mock expression of hurt on your face. he chuckles trying to picture you with a sleeve of tattoos, your pastel pink sweater rolled up your arms and showcasing an array of colors.

"kind of, yeah," he laughs out, smiling when your own giggles rings through the cold night air.

"why do you even have one though?" he asks a few moments later, trying to distract himself from the way your giggle just made his heart swell. 

"don't only people who are like..." he cringes as he remembers you are both sitting surrounding by corpses. "don't you only make these when you're gonna die? get news that you have like a year left to live or something?"

and just like in the car that day, he doesn't think about how sadly cryptic your answer is. how odd the dreary words sound coming from the mouth of a high school girl whose only cares should be about prom or college acceptance letters.

"i could only have a year left to live," you tell him softly. "i could even only have a month left. you never really know, do you?"

he can only nod his head, furrowing his eyebrows because while your words ring true. 

"that's pretty fucking morbid, y/n."

a small chuckle leaves your mouth at his profanity, shrugging your shoulders as you turn around to look at him. 

"i guess but it's true though," you say, moving your hands side to side like you're showcasing a house and not a cemetery full of rotting bodies. "after all, look around."

a loud, surprised laugh leaves seonghwa's mouth as he looks at you, shaking his head half in amusement and half in astonishment - he’s never met anyone like you in his life.

"good point," he says, biting down on his lips desperate to quirk up into a large grin.

it's an odd place and time to spend the rest of the night sharing shy smiles and glances but it happens nonetheless.

by the end of the night, you're both convinced of something: you only further confirming your suspicions that this boy is so much more than the person he portrays himself to be and seonghwa thinking that maybe grandma sweaters and bucket lists aren't that bad after all.

the more you talked and spent time with seonghwa, the more you saw how great he was. 

you figured that night at the cemetery was a fluke, that if you ever dared mentioning it or tried to make it happen again he’d laugh in your face or feign confusion. 

so the surprise that ran through you when, at lunch, he plopped down in the seat across from you was truly overwhelming. you had looked side to side in confusion, thinking that maybe his friends all went out or that your budding friendship was all one big practical joke.

but his friends looked just as confused, eyebrows pinched together as they whispered and hit one another.

“your friend’s look confused,” you say quietly. “you should probably go back.” 

but without missing a beat, he just shrugs and takes out a tattered black notebook.

“fuck them.”

your eyes widen at his vulgarity, watching him with a curious, slightly cautious gaze before it softens as he meets your eyes. he holds out his book for you, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“i...wrote some of the beginning last night. do you wanna read it?”

the smile that lights up your face has that familiar twinge in his heart appearing, excitedly nodding as your fingertips brush when you take it. 

“the prologue,” you correct him gently as you read his opening lines. 

“the what?” he asks. 

a little giggle leaves your mouth as you continue to read, missing the way his eyes soften as he looks at you with admiration - but his friends don’t miss it. 

don’t miss the way he chooses to sit with you everyday for the next few weeks, the way your hands brush as you make edits on your paper and the way his eyes never leave you as you read over his corrections. 

“i’m gonna ask you straight up,” mingi asks when he’s over seonghwa’s one night. “what’s going on with you and church girl?”

the boy can only look up from his notebook, shaking out his aching hand as he raises his eyebrow at the boy. 

“what?” 

the taller boy can only roll his eyes, going over to the open window as he lights a cigarette. 

“you like her.”

“mingi...” seonghwa says warningly, not wanting to get into this right now; they’d been giving him shit every chance they got, poking fun at his newfound desire to succeed in school.

“i’m not giving you shit, i just wanna know,” the boy says, “because it seems pretty obvious.”

seonghwa rests his feet on his desk as he looks over at the boy, letting out a sigh when he sees how genuine and indifferent he looks. 

“i might,” he says because it’s a fact he’s been mulling over since that night at the cemetery. 

ever since then, he’s been overwhelmingly eager to see you and please you. 

he keeps wanting to show you time and time again that he’s capable of doing this work and tutoring the kids. keeps wanting to see that happy smile that lights up your face or your soft voice squealing about how good his play is coming along.

“you might,” mingi laughs out, blowing smoke out the window as he shakes his head. “you absolutely do.” 

“i’m gonna push you out that fucking window,” seonghwa grunts, a smirk crossing the boy’s face as he shakes his head.

“that’s not very holy of you,” his friend says, sarcasm and teasing in his tone. “what ever would y/n say if she found out you-” 

mingi’s words are quickly cut off by high-pitched yells as he watches a cup of pencils and pens go hurling towards him. 

and whether it be a twist of fate or just pleasant circumstances, tutoring sessions on one friday afternoon are cancelled for construction in the library. 

the both of you look at one another and somehow know it’s mutually decided that you’re gonna work elsewhere, even though it’s friday and there’s a party going on at his friend san’s house.

“we only have to work for an hour,” you tell him as you guys step outside the school. “i know there’s a party tonight.”

“do you wanna come with me?” he blurts out before he can even stop himself, shocking the both of you. 

the boy would laugh at the terrified, wide-eyed expression on your face if he wasn’t so thrown off by how quickly and impulsively he asked that. 

“i...uh...don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say quietly, eyes trained on the floor shyly. you nearly fall right down when you feel his hand on your jaw, lifting your face so your glossy, nervous eyes meet his.

“nobody would mess with you if i was there,” he says lowly, the protective, confident words causing you to swallow nervously. you only shake your head slightly, the feeling of his hand on your face so foreign and bare-minimum but sending your heart into overdrive. 

“it’s not that, i’m just... i wouldn’t do well there.”

i wouldn’t be allowed.

his eyes search yours for any hint of a lie, that maybe you actually wanna go but fear that stupid girls or guys would make fun of you for whatever idiotic reason they can think of tonight. 

your small smile assures him even further.

“i probably wouldn’t do well there tonight, either then,” he says, your eyebrows furrowing as you look at his eyes shining with certainty. you’re about to ask him to clarify when he removes his hold on your face, taking your smaller hand in his cautiously.

“what are you-”

“you drive here today?” he asks and you can only find it in you to shake your head. 

“we’ll walk to my house then?” 

you stare blankly at him before looking down at your intertwined hands, feeling a blush creep on your face as you’re successfully rendered speechless. 

you hadn’t really know what to expect or feel holding someone’s hand but it definitely wasn’t this feeling of closeness and warmth and excitement. 

when you look up and he sees the pinkness on your cheeks, he can’t help but smile. 

seonghwa looks down at you questioningly, raising his eyebrow and looking at you until you stutter out “ye-yeah that’s..good.” he intertwines your fingers and pulls you along the sidewalk, holding your hand and occasionally looking down at you the entire way to his house. 

he ends up missing the party that night in exchange for writing, editing and playfully rehearsing his lines with you. his chuckle fills the room when you dramatically read his lines, giggles leaving your mouth when he cringes at the fact he wrote some of this dialogue. 

he drove you home after the sun had set, your hands intertwined as they rest on the console. shy gazes and quiet giggles fill the car, your softly spoken “goodnight seonghwa,” ringing through his head for the rest of the night. 

and then much to his dismay, after three months of preparation and work with you, his play was due. 

you had worked together in the library one last time, your encouragement and assurance that he would absolutely get an a filling the boy with an unfamiliar feeling of pride and excitement. 

he had worked hard, you both had worked hard, and he’d never been so excited to hand in an assignment in his life; it all had paid off because he was able to showcase a big, 100% to you in red ink.

“seonghwa!” you squeal, clapping your hands in the empty library and throwing your arms around him without a second thought. “i told you you were gonna do amazing!”

he can’t even think about your words with your arms around him, the feeling of your body against him the final confirmation for him that he 100% absolutely likes you (as mingi so juvenilely put).

you feel his body stiffen and realize what you’ve done, quickly drawing your arms back and flushing as you quietly apologize. 

but just as the words leave, his arms are around you and your head rests on his chest. once you’ve recovered from the shock, you allow your own arms to slowly go back around him, the two of standing in the empty library wrapped in each other’s arms. 

it’s a strangely intimate hug for just a good grade on a paper, your arms tight and hearts pounding as you feeling a buzzing in the air changing everything you’ve worked to build over these past months. 

“do one more thing for me, y/n?” you hear him lowly ask in your ear. 

you meet his gaze nervously, biting your lip as you stare at him with a wide-eyed gaze. “what?” you squeak, your voice barely coming out. 

“let me take you on a date.”

convincing your father to allow you on a date was one thing but convincing your father to allow you on a date with park seonghwa was damn near impossible. 

“dad,” you whine for the twentieth time that day.

“y/n, i’m telling you, i’m not comfortable with this.”

“you’re not even giving him a chance, dad,” you tell him softly at the table, your eyes trained on the clock that reads 6:50. “he’s gonna be here in ten minutes.”

whether your dad approved or not, you were going on this date. 

you had gone your whole life without dating or boys or even having a crush and now you were overwhelming ready to try it out. despite your nervousness and despite the fact you have absolutely no experience, you’re excited.

seonghwa has brought out something in you that was suppressed for so long, that you only read about in books or watched in other couples - now with your shy smiles and intertwined hands under the table at lunch, you’re convinced that he’s your first love. 

“y/n, i’m uncomfortable with this for more than one reason,” he says, sadness and apprehension in his tone; it makes your heart sink a little bit. 

why does he have to bring this up now? why can’t he just let you have one night to be a normal teenager?

“why, dad?” you ask, voice far too even and calm even though you already know where this is headed. he can tell too, because he grabs your hand from across the table and squeezes it apologetically. 

“i’m not trying to upset you,” he says, “i just don’t know if you should start something when...”

“i’m fine though. i feel fine.” 

his face turns into one of shock and confusion, not once hearing you snap at him; that’s when he notices that you look...different. 

a short-sleeved dress over your figure with a hint of blush and mascara on your face. your eyes flickering to the clock and door before back to him and he feels his heart pull in his chest. 

“i know you do,” he says, pulling his hand back and running it through his thinning hair. “you didn’t tell him, did you?”

“of course not,” you quickly get out. “there’s no need to tell him.”

“no need to-” the words die in his throat so he doesn’t start a fight or upset you just minutes before your first date. 

he knows that if you actually accepted to go out with a boy, you have to like him and there has to be some sort of...connection between the two of you. 

“what if this gets more serious?”

a knock at the door causes you both to jump, your neck snapping over to see seonghwa’s handsome face through the window. 

“then we’ll deal with that when it comes,” you tell him, voice serious and hushed. “just... please be nice, okay? he’s important.”

and with that, your dad watches you open the door and greet seonghwa with a smile, ushering him in as you giggle when he says something lowly. you drag him over by the hand, seonghwa and your dad standing only a few inches away from one another a sight you’d truly thought you’d never see.

“hi sir,” seonghwa says, his voice deep but friendly as he outreaches his had. “it’s nice to meet you, i’m-”

“park seonghwa,” the older man finishes, taking the boy’s hand roughly and shaking it before dropping his hold. “i see your mother church every sunday but i can’t say the same for you.”

“dad,” you whisper, face flushing in embarrassment. 

“it’s okay, y/n,” seonghwa says quietly before he looks your dad in the face. “i...probably should go more but-”

“no need to explain yourself to me, i was just saying,” he tells him, watching the way seonghwa’s face falls slightly and you narrow your eyes at him. “where are you guys going tonight?”

“just dinner, like i told you,” you say, voice tight and arm grazing seonghwa in an attempt to bring him comfort; even if he doesn’t need comfort, you need his skin on yours to ground you. 

your dad meets his gaze, causing seonghwa to quickly confirm the plans.

“yeah, just dinner,” he says, comforted by your arm touching his. “i borrowed my mom’s car.”

a quiet hum leaves your dad’s mouth and seonghwa feels the nervous pit in his stomach growing, like he’s judging him for being a possible satanist who still borrows his mommy’s car.  

even if he was thinking that, he smiles warmly at the both of you before reminding him to have you home by ten. 

“will do, sir,” he says, already telling himself to have you home by 9:55 so if anything, he’s at least punctual. you all but drag seonghwa out of the house, waving to your dad and thanking the boy quietly when he opens the car door for you. 

he starts the car and there’s a few moments of silence before he lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“he hates me.”

you let out a soft giggle as you shake your head, tapping his arm playfully. 

“he doesn’t, he’s just...protective.” 

seonghwa only looks at you, completely unconvinced if the blank stare he’s giving you is any indication. 

“okay, maybe a little,” you agree softly, the boy rolling his eyes away from you despite the smile on his face. 

you watch him drive and admire his sharp features, wondering how and why on earth this boy asked you on a date in the first place. he turns to look at you when the light turns red, his eyebrow quirked up when he sees you’re staring at him. 

“what?”

“nothing,” you say, shaking your head before you shyly say. “i just can’t believe you asked me on a date.”

he bites his lip to hide his smile, taking his hand off the wheel and taking your hand in his. 

“you look pretty,” he says suddenly, causing you to sharply inhale and nearly choke on air. 

you never imagined someone other than a family member or elderly woman at church calling you pretty, completely thrown off and unsure how to respond. the pinkness creeping up on your cheeks is a dead give away that it’s effecting you, his eyes roaming over your face as his smile finally breaks through.

“really pretty.”

and so you don’t completely go mute and dumb, you tease “it’s just because i’m not in a grandma sweater.” 

he only rolls his eyes and taps you on the nose. “i’ve come to really like those grandma sweaters.”

a quiet giggle leaves your mouth and he can only smirk as he looks back at the road. 

the light turns green and your heart flutters ever so slightly when instead of disconnecting your hands, he brings it to his lips to press a soft, sweet kiss.

your hands don’t disconnect when he pulls up to the restaurant nor when you walk in and wait to be seated. 

you look around at the other couples in the area and that’s when it hits you that you’re one of them. that right now, you’re on your first date and have absolutely no idea what you’re doing. 

“what’re you looking at?” he quietly hums in your ear, watching you look around at the other young couples embraced in a handhold or back hug. 

“nothing,” you say quietly before looking up at him. “i just... i’ve never been on a date before.”

his lips press against your head and you hear him laugh against it, your eyebrows furrowing as you smack his stomach lightly. 

“stop laughing,” you whine.

“but you’re cute,” he hums lowly. 

he hears you let out a sigh and disconnects his lips from your head, taking your cheeks in his hands and ignoring the way your eyes widen at the contact.

“just take a breath for me, okay?” he says lowly, staring down at your wide-eyed gaze and feeling such an overwhelming desire to kiss you. “it’ll be fine. there’s nothing to worry about.”

“but i don’t kn-”

“seonghwa, table for two,” a female voice interrupts. his eyes widen teasingly as a quiet gasp leaves his mouth. “let’s go, baby.”

and, of course, he was right. 

it was fine. 

the second you sat down and looked over the menus, you fell into a natural and teasing conversation that carried on for the rest of the date. everything was always light-hearted and fun, never delving into serious topics or issues. 

he paid the bill after eyeing you the second you pulled out your wallet, a blush crossing your face as you quietly mumble out your gratitude. he took your hand in his, you shyly looking down and watching your fingers intertwine as he leads you through the parking lot.

“where are we going now?” 

you look up at him and see him watching you with a small smirk, probably from the permanent blush on your face, and relishing in the fact that he’s the one that put it there. 

"you’ll see.”

the two of you walk hand-in-hand across the street, tiny squeals leaving your mouth as seonghwa abandons the crosswalk signs and runs straight across. low chuckles leave his mouth as he tightens his hold on your hand, dragging you in front of him and shaking his head.

“you think i’m gonna let you get hit by a car?”

“i just don’t know why you couldn’t wait,” you say, amusement in your voice. “do you have to always prove you’re just such cool rule-breaker?” 

his eyes widen at your uncharacteristic snark, a smirk playing at his lips that only makes your small, smug smile grow wider. 

“rule-breaker, huh?” he hums. “is that what you really think of me? i got a 100 on my play, you know.”

a laugh bubbles out of your mouth as you roll your eyes playfully, your heart soaring because you just know how proud he actually is of that. something about it is so cute, that he now knows he’s capable of succeeding and doing well.

“oh right, i’m sorry,” you tease, looking up at him to admire his smiling face in the setting sun. you don’t know if it’s just because you hadn’t known him well or only saw him in bad situations but you never noticed just how sweet his smile is. 

you see the exact moment something in his eyes change, your gaze following his before you let out at tiny gasp.

to all the places this boy could’ve taken you, like some sort of underground ring or a crazy house party, you’re both standing in front of-

“a playground?” you squeal, trying to contain the childlike excitement building in you. 

“yeah, is that stupid?” he asks, an unsure smile on his face as he looks down to gauge your reaction. he watches your eyes traveling from the swings and slides, feet wiggling beneath you and feels his heart soften even more. 

your neck then snaps up to look at him, a shy smile on your face as you quickly shake your head. 

“not at all,” you say, tightening your hold on his hand. “i just wouldn’t expect that from you.”

“and why’s that?” he asks, dipping his head ever so slightly as his words fan over your ear. “it’s against the rules to go into a playground at sunset.”

your eyes widen when you look up at, a tiny scoff leaving your mouth. but before you can get the words out to chastise him, he pulls you towards the fence that is short and easy enough for you both to climb over.

“are you sure you’re okay?” seonghwa asks, bent down with his hands on your knees, watching you breathe heavily as you sit on the swing.

the two of you had run around the playground like children, racing down the slide and then chasing after each other when one of you lost. 

you squealed as he caught you around the waist, his hands digging into your hips and nearly making your heart explode. he was always quick to loosen his hold and take his hands off of you afterward, demanding a rematch as you watch him run up the steps. 

“yeah, i’m fine,” you say, leaning your head against the cold chain and flooding with relief. “just out of shape.”

a scoff leaves seonghwa’s mouth as he watches you carefully; you don’t look out of shape. 

“i’m fine, seonghwa,” you whine, feeling his gaze still on you. he only narrows his eyes, rubbing your exposed skin before standing up and plopping down on the swing next to you. 

the two of you swing in a comfortable silence for a few moments, admiring the dark sky and singing cicadas. head still on the chain, you turn yourself to look over at him and he must feel your gaze because he does the same, eyes roaming over you because he doesn’t like how lethargic you’ve become.

“thank you for asking me on this date,” your soft voice says suddenly. “i...i had a lot of fun.” 

he watches your cheeks warm with a smile, holding his hand out for you to grab again. 

you take it immediately, his eyebrows furrowing at how small and bony it feels in your hand - have you always been this small?

he pushes down the thoughts because he doesn’t wanna ruin this moment, be distracted from the soft smile on your lips and the pink on your cheeks.

“yeah?” he hums. “i felt some pressure, being that it was your first and all.”

a quiet giggle leaves your mouth as you shake your head. 

“well it was perfect so good job,” you say, “another 100.”

he snorts at your nerdy comment, turning his face away to hide his smile and look at the rest of the playground. 

he hadn’t come to this playground in years, remembering it so vividly from his childhood. how it seemed so big and scary, like some sort of deathtrap that he could only handle because he had someone next to him.

“i used to come here a lot, you know.”

“oh yeah?” you ask, voice happy and light as you picture a young, exuberant seonghwa. 

“mhm,” he hums, a lump suddenly in his throat as if it’s begging him not to say his next few words. some part of him wants to tell you, break down some unfamiliar, vulnerable side of him in an effort to show he really is trying for you. 

and what better way to do that than woefully spilling about his absent father? 

but then when he finally says, “i used to come here with my dad,” he wishes he hadn’t. it’s embarrassing and kind of humiliating to talk about these types of things with a person you’re starting to-

“that’s sweet,” you tell him softly, smiling over at him warmly. “he sounds like a good dad.”

“he left us a few years after.”

your body stills and veins run cold when those words leave his mouth, your heart tugging in your chest at the sad, short way he says it. 

“oh.”

an awkward chuckle leaves his mouth as your surprised response, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously in fear that he just ruined the vibe between you both. before he can try to backtrack, however the hell one could backtrack something like that, he feels your hand squeeze his. 

“i’m sorry.”

he looks over at your soft, sympathetic gaze and smiles sadly, feeling the overwhelmingly need to cup your cheek and brush over your soft skin.

“not your fault,” he says. 

you move further into his touch, swallowing at the way his eyes roam over your face.

“well, it’s not yours either,” you squeak out, unsure of what exactly to say to comfort him but wanting to so bad. 

because sometime within these months, you’ve discovered what a kind, sensitive person he actually is. how all of his troublesome behaviors and bullshit was just covering up for the fact he was sad and frustrated and maybe a little lonely.

he lets out a scoff, that overwhelming urge to kiss you coming back with a vengeance.

“where were you years ago,” he laughs out, thinking back to his middle school self creeping through the schoolyard and etching his rage onto the brick of the school. 

because for some reason, the boy had convinced himself it was all his fault.

that his dad had gotten tired of his bad grades and snarky backtalk and the fact that he never listened to him. it took him up until a few years ago, when the sadness turned to anger, that he knew his dad left purely due to the fact that he was just an asshole.

you smile sadly watching him stare blankly, knowing his mind is probably going to all sorts of sad places. to a time in his life where he blamed himself and didn't know how to properly cope. 

if you had known, you would've done what you did now. offer him your support and friendship and let him know someone will be there for him.

"i'm here now though," you remind him quietly, moving the swing back and forth, in sync with the way your thumb starts gently brushing over his hand. 

it's like he needed that touch to bring him back to reality, his blank eyes turning to look at you and wonder if you're even real.

the way he's looking at you causes you to nervously fidget, the intense softness of his gaze making your stomach and heart go into frenzy. so much so that you shyly look away, focusing on the way your hand always looks so small in his.

you feel him bring his swing closer to yours, holding himself right beside you and lifting your chin gently. his gaze immediately falls to your lips and you let out a shaky, nervous exhale, your eyes darting across his face because you've definitely read about this before.

the buzzing energy before a kiss, the way someone's eyes lower and tongues dart out to lick at their lips.

"i wanna kiss you," you hear him mumble, his eyes moving to yours and his heart dropping when he sees your wide-eyed gaze. he also sees a hint of curiosity though, a hint of the same desire and need in yours.

you swallow again, your own eyes falling to his lips before back up to him. 

"i... might be bad at it,” you whisper, voice caught in your throat.

if your statement didn't make his heart hurt in the best way possible, your eyes proved to be the bigger weakness. proved to make a smile spread across his face, a short chuckle leaving his mouth as he shakes his head at you.

"that's not possible," he hums, his gaze boring right into you, like he's waiting for any sort of permission. 

after you let out another shaky exhale and close your eyes, you feel his lips press lightly against yours.

and while it's a careful, slow kiss, it doesn't take away from the fact that it's perfect. 

that it makes your insides warm and flutter and brings an immediate blush to your face. that after a few moments, he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and makes you feel like that was the nicest thing to ever happen to you.

you take a few calming breaths before opening your eyes, dropping them shyly when you see him looking right at you.

"see," he mumbles, placing a kiss on your cheek, and then the other, before a finishing one on the tip of your nose. "not possible."

a flustered, girlish giggle leaves your mouth that he can't help but also laugh at, rising from his spot on the swing before standing in front of you with his hand outreached.

"what?"

his lips turned into a frown before he kneels down in front of you again, placing his hands on your bony knees. 

"as much as i don't wanna leave you right now, i gotta get you home."

true to his word, he gets you home five minutes before ten, silently hoping your dad notices and logs in it the back of his mind where his lack of church attendance is also stored.

because even though he sleeps in on sundays and kissed his daughter two more times, he's really hoping he'll be okay when he comes to pick you for date number two next week.

date number two turned into date number six and then over the next few months, you both had started to lose count.

if you weren't together at your house, doing homework and midterm projects in the living room, you were at the cemetery or playground. 

leaned back against his chest on a blanket, his arms wrapped around your waist as he hums quietly against your head. his hands grazing the small of your back as he pushes you on the swing and watches you tip your head back in the air.

tonight's date, however, was a surprise. 

he had told you on monday to clear your schedule for saturday, silencing you with a peck of the lips any time you pressed him further. your constant questioning served to be of no use because even in the car on your way to the surprise, he wouldn't budge.

if anything, he made it worse by then whipping out a blindfold and securing it around your face at a red light.

"do you trust me?" he had asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. you only let out a sigh, lips turning into a pout because "of course i do." 

that right there sealed your fate for being completely blind for the next twenty minutes.

you feel the the car suddenly stop, the scent of salt hitting your nose through the open window and making your eyebrows furrow together; you had never smelt anything like this before.

"i'm gonna get out and open your door, okay?" he tells you, the sound of his door shutting quickly followed by yours opening. 

you reach out your hand for him to grab, a foreign softness under your sneakers when you step out. he guides you for a few minutes with your blindfold still on, letting out huffs and grumbles every now and then that were silenced by his laughter.

and then when you hear what sounds like crashing water and the loud chirp of a seagulls, you hear his voice from behind you tell you take it off. 

a gasp leaves your mouth that lights up his entire face.

"number three, see the-"

"ocean!" you squeal, turning around to throw your arms around him gratefully. his laugh is muffled against your head, lips pressing a kiss on top on your hair.

"thank you, seonghwa," you say, tightening your arms around him as you press your chin into chest, looking up at him with a bright, excited smile. he can only find it in himself to smile back, take your face in his hands and place another full kiss on your lips.

luckily, your kissing has gotten a lot better with practice. 

pressing up on the tips of your toes to deepen it, your mouths gliding and parting as a breeze from the ocean hits both of you. when you pull apart, his eyebrow raises mischievously, both at your new found boldness and the prospect of exploring the ocean, so he takes your hand in his.

"you're welcome, baby. now let's go."

he pulls you toward the water as your giggles ring through the salty air, squealing when you feel the freezing water on your bare feet and jumping in seonghwa's arms when a big wave splashes up and hits your leg.

he completely uses that to his advantage, tightening his hold on you and running further out into the ocean. he doesn't care that his pants get soaked and his feet go numb, because your loud laugh and squeals of his name have come to be his favorite sound.

you eventually jump down and deal with the consequences that are freezing bones and a wet dress, running away and splashing through the ocean before he catches you by the waist and twirls you around.

but then he notices that concerning, lethargic wave hit you when you grab onto his arm, something he’s been noticing more and more of these past few weeks together. 

he quickly ushers you out of the ocean, guiding you onto the towel that he laid out as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

"what happened?" he asked, voice full of concern. "are you okay?"

you insist the you're fine. that the waves of the ocean were rough and that you're not used to it. 

you push him down when he asks again if you're okay, allowing your head to rest on his chest and watching the waves crash onto the shore as the sun sets below the horizon.

"i can't believe you took me to the see the ocean," you mumble against his chest, still in disbelief that this is the same seonghwa you've known your whole life. 

the same seonghwa who constantly wore a pissed off expression, punched anyone who looked at him funny and yelled at you during tutoring.

"i like to see you happy," he says, his words genuine, without a single hesitation which makes you burrow your head and smile into his wet shirt. "which is why i have another plan for us."

you perk up at this words, lifting your body and sitting cross-legged beside him. "another surprise?" you squeak excitedly, reminding him of a child on christmas day.

"yup, another surprise for my girl," he says teasingly, sitting up to peck your cheek. "and if you say yes, you'll be my tattooed girl."

he has to keep his poker face on but it proves to be a challenge with the way your face drops, eyes wide and skin paling as you stare at him blankly. "wh-what?"

"yeah, i figured we'd just cover number four too," he says sweetly, faking it just a little bit to sell his point. "so i looked up tattoo shops around here and-"

"what?!" you squeal out again, feeling panic start to creep in your veins. "seonghwa! i-i can't actually-"

"but why not, baby?" he asks, the smirk tugging at his lips uncontrollable. "it's on the bucket list."

"okay, yeah, but you don't have to do everything on it."

his eyes narrow at you, tapping you on the nose that you naturally scrunch. 

"i think you do when there's only four things on it." 

your eyes remain wide and panic-stricken, staring at him mouth agape like he's grown five heads.

"seonghwa," you manage to get out, "you have to be- you're joking, right? you have to be joking. i can't go home to my dad with a freakin'-"

your words halt when you watch him throw his head back in laughter, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he pulls you into him. 

"of course i'm joking, baby. do you really think i'd bring you home with a freakin' tattoo?"

heat rushes to your cheeks as you push him over, slapping his chest playfully and yelling at him for being so mean and scaring you. he's quick to push you onto your back, holding himself above you and peppering kisses over your face and cheeks as an apology.

"that's why i got these," he says after he pulls back, fishing in the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out five white cards. your eyebrows pull together in confusion, lifting yourself up and gasping when you see an array of temporary tattoos.

"these are perfect!" you squeal, taking them in your hand and examining each of them as if they're not gonna fall off by the time you get home; after careful consideration, you pick out a purple butterfly.

"i want this one. you pick now," you tell him with a smile, laughing when he goes with the identical butterfly in pink. the both of you run to the ocean, securing your tattoos in matching spots with cold salt water.

"this is so nice, imagine i really got one," you say, twisting your wrist as you hold your arm out in front of you. you look over to see him watching you softly, feeling a blush creep up on your face.

"what?" you say, shy embarrassment suddenly in your tone.

"nothing," he says causing you to shrug and look back at your tattoo.

his brain screams at him that he has to tell you, that this night can't end without him telling you and that it’s most definitely not nothing.

ten minutes later, with your head resting against his chest watching the steady ocean waves gain, he quietly says your name. 

you hum questioningly against his chest, feeling your eyes grow heavy at the tranquility of... everything. of his presence and the ocean and the way your life just seems so-

"i love you."

and just like that, all the tranquility is gone.

you rip your head away from his chest, eyes darting to his to see such raw vulnerability and love shining in his eyes. you can't control the way your own widen, the way your heart and stomach twist and turn into knots and make you feel even more nauseous than usual.

because he can't love you. he can't. 

something could happen at anytime and take you away from him and then what's gonna happen? you can't be responsible for hurting him and making him feel sad, even if you're-

"now would be a good time to say something," he says lowly, feeling his heart sink at the evident panic on your face.

but then he starts to panic when he sees your eyes fill with tears, backing away from him slightly as you shake your head at him.

“y/n?” he asks, holding his hands out as he walks closer to you, proving he’s not a threat to you.

"and on one more condition, seonghwa."

he raises his eyebrow at you, nodding his head as he looks at you awaitingly. because he knows it's probably gonna be something stupid like to try his very best or make it from the heart. but the last thing he expects to hear is:

"you have to promise you won't fall in love with me."

"uh...yeah, okay, that shouldn't be a problem."

"i.. i told you not to fall in love with me."

his heart sinks at the flashback, watching tears stream down your face and not being able to help the way he reaches out and takes you in his arms. he thinks you're probably just scared and vulnerable, not used to the feeling of loving someone and giving another person your entire self.

but neither is he.

and that's why, with his lips against your head, he tells you not to be scared.

 that he'll wait until you're ready to say it back and that you'll learn to do this together. 

he thinks it must calm you down a little because your arms wrap around his waist and you burrow your face in his damp shirt, muffling your cries and sobs against his shirt.

but your cries and sobs only continue later the night, putting on a strong front for the car ride home. 

seonghwa kept his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and occasionally bringing them up to his mouth to kiss; every time he did it, you looked over and smiled at him and tried to show through your eyes how much you loved him back.

but then the second you got home and your dad saw your face, he knew.

"did he tell you?" he asked gently, his heart breaking at the sight of your red cheeks and teary eyes. 

he watched park seonghwa fall in love with his daughter before his very eyes, the more evident it came the more awful he felt in his gut about it.

you can't even talk without sounding broken so you only nod your head, nearly collapsing onto the couch and hiding your face in your hands.

"you knew this was gonna happen," your dad says, not wanting to say i told you so but knowing from the start how reckless and tragic this was gonna be. "you have to tell him. be fair to him, y/n."

but nothing's fair. 

nothing about any of this is fair and you should've known life was getting too good. that you should've been expecting what tragic events were about to come.

“let’s take our bets now,” san says from his table at lunch. “is he gonna sit with her today?”

“when was the last time he sat with us?” yeosang grumbles, looking around the boy’s faces that hold a mix of anger and hurt. “he’s definitely not.”

they hadn’t seen much of seonghwa at all, really. 

missing him by the time they all gathered in front of the school after the final bell or going to his house on the weekends just for his mom to inform them he’s already out. 

and while most of them didn’t care, the older boy with hard eyes and a ticking jaw has been taking the ‘betrayal’ the worst.

“who knew he’d become such a little bitch,” hongjoong snarls. “and for her, nonetheless.”

mingi and yunho share a look, the two of them kind of caught in the middle; they’re best friends with hongjoong, have been by his side since elementary school and don’t intend on breaking that alliance. 

but they’re also close with seonghwa and see how different he is now. 

how much happier he seems because you’re in his life. they had even met you briefly after school and while you were a bit shy, there was something genuine and warm about your smile that they instantly liked. 

“she’s good for him, i think,” yunho dares to say, hongjoong’s narrowed eyes snapping to him. 

“how could she be?” the boy snarls, embarrassed that anyone he associated with could be connected to the snobby, holier than tho type like you. “i bet she doesn’t even put out.”

“i bet it’s not about that,” mingi says quietly, stiffening ever so slightly when he notices both of you come through the door. 

and like seonghwa always does, he sends them a nod of his head before sitting down across from you. your bumping arms and loving smiles make it obvious to everyone what’s going on between you two. 

hongjoong can only watch for so long seonghwa be a ‘lovesick bitch’ towards you. rolling his eyes when he watches him fawn over you, getting your food and drinks and not allowing you to lift a finger. 

(he doesn’t know it’s because seonghwa’s getting more and more concerned about how fatigued you’re growing throughout the day, something in his gut telling him it’s way more than you forgetting to drink water or not getting enough sleep as your excuses say). 

when he watches his friend tuck your hand behind your ear lovingly, a move they both would’ve laughed at before seonghwa lost his balls, he decides it’s time to get his friend back.

“what’re you doing?” he hears his friends ask from behind him but he only waves them off, stomping towards the table and rolling his eyes when you meet his gaze first. 

“seonghwa,” hongjoong says, annoyance already in his tone. the boy looks up and he stiffens, immediately recognizing the look in his friend’s eye.

“hey,” he says, voice tight and cautious. 

do not fuck with her.

“are you done with this shit or what?” 

the anger bite in the boy’s words has your head dropping immediately, eyes focusing on your lap as you try to properly prepare yourself for the worst case scenario.

that’s exactly what happens the second seonghwa asks “what are you talking about?” because it’s like hongjoong goes off the rail, scoffing as he looks at his friend. 

“you’re kidding, right? you haven’t sat with us in months. we haven’t even hung out.”

“i’ve been busy...” seonghwa says but it sounds more like a question, completely thrown off by his friends odd behavior - what is even getting so mad about?

“with what? your girlfriend?” the last word twinged with disgust.

seonghwa’s eyes travel to you and the second he sees how uncomfortable you are, he stands up and towers over hongjoong.

“we can talk about this later.”

“no, i think we should talk about it now,” hongjoong says condescendingly, everything about his tone and stance making seonghwa’s fists clench. because he can tell it’s making you more and more uneasy. 

“what the fuck is your problem?” seonghwa asks lowly, pushing his friend back. 

“my fucking problem is you dropped all of us the second this bitch came along.”

the first time you brokenly get out “stop,” is when seonghwa’s immediate reaction is to grab hongjoong by the collar of his shirt, the low mumble of student’s voices when they see the first inkling of a fight. 

“don’t call her that.”

a sadistic smirk crosses hongjoong’s face as he stares into seonghwa’s dark, blazing eyes, seeing just how quickly he’s about to lose his control. the boy’s eyes then flicker to you, looking at them fearfully.

“let me tell you, y/n. your pussy must be something, i-”

seonghwa lands a punch on the boy’s face before hongjoong’s back is slammed against the wall, a hand around his throat as his eyes blaze down at him. 

"you better shut the fuck up.”

“why?” hongjoong laughs out despite the crushing weight on his windpipe. “you mean we’re not gonna share? i think we’re all very curi-

you hear yourself begging seonghwa to stop when he drops hongjoong to the ground, giving him a few forceful kicks in the stomach before the rest of the boys jump up. 

they grab the back of seonghwa’s shirt as you join them, trying to block out the way hongjoong and him are screaming and cursing back and forth despite the pounding in your head.

whether it be from the chaos of fighting or you’re already weakened, fatigued state, your vision blurs and your brain feels foggy before you whisper out seonghwa’s name. 

you feel an unfamiliar pair of strong arms around you before passing out and your world turns black. 

yunho carries you out to his car, mingi attempting to calm down seonghwa who hasn’t stopped calling your name frantically, cursing hongjoong and saying how this is all his fault. 

the two boys are quick to ground him, tell him that that’s not what’s important right now and instead deciding where to bring you. 

seonghwa rakes his fingers through your hair, your head lolled in his lap and he feels sick looking at how pale and sunken your face looks. 

“baby, what happened to you,” he mumbles out, his long finger coming out to trail over your cheek.

the second yunho pulls up to your house, seonghwa picks you up bridal style and rushes to your front door. your dad catches the sight through the window and nearly collapses in fear. 

“what the hell happened?” the older man asks frantically, terrified and haunted by how you look lifeless in the boy’s arms. 

“she passed out at school,” seonghwa grunts out, mingi and yunho awkwardly standing in the doorway watching him barrel through your house and rest you on the couch. 

he kneels down and runs his fingers through your hair again, the lump in his throat making it nearly impossible to speak. 

“i-i don’t know happened. she said she was feeling tired but-”

“you have to go.”

his head snaps up at your dad’s words, the man watching him with hard eyes and a pale face. seonghwa can only squint his eyes at him, shaking his head as you takes your hand in his.

“with all due respect, sir, there’s no way i’m-”

“you are,” he says, his voice hard and firm and such a contrast to the peaceful way he speaks in church. “you shouldn’t even be with her.”

the statement takes seonghwa back, his eyebrow raising as he squeezes your hand before standing up. 

“what?” the boy asks, making his way over to your dad. “why?”

“seonghwa, maybe we should just-”

“no,” seonghwa growls, his head snapping to the doorway before back at the older man. “why shouldn’t i be with her?”

the pain and worry in seonghwa’s eyes is overwhelmingly obvious, the love and care he has for you completely genuine and real, but right now that’s not your dad’s concern. 

if you were a normal, healthy teenager, he knows the boy in front of him would be perfect. 

but you’re not normal or heathy and adding another person into this mix of hurt and worry and pain is something he just can’t do, even with the fact in mind that you love him and he loves you. 

he knows it’s not his call to make and he’s being incredibly selfish but he does what he thinks is best at the time.

“because she’s too good for you. she deserves more and it’s selfish of you to think otherwise.”

the room, the house, the entire world seems dead silent after those words leave his mouth, seonghwa not only taken back and pained by the fact he said it but because it rings slightly true. 

he’s known since this started that you were too good for him and he didn’t deserve you. he’s been trying to prove himself worthy by treating you well, listening to all your dad’s rules and just being patient and loving you.

“i...even though that’s true-” seonghwa begins to say but the older man takes a step closer to him, his face full of anger and frustration as he tells him once more to leave. 

that’s when mingi comes in and grabs seonghwa by the arm, the boy fighting against his friend’s hold as his eyes move back to your unconscious body.

“mingi, fucking stop,” he screams, fighting against his friend’s hold and feeling himself grow more and more anxious the further he gets from your house. 

the hold on him doesn’t loosen until he’s put into the car, the two boys jumping in front and turning to see him bouncing his knee nervously. 

“how am i not supposed to be there,” seonghwa says as he looks at your house. “she’s gonna wake up and i’m not gonna be-”

“she’ll be fine,” yunho says gently, mingi nodding in agreement before adding on that your dad is there and everything will be fine. that you just need to rest and that you can talk tomorrow.

when seonghwa visits your house, both, saturday and sunday morning, your dad turns him away. 

tells him you’re too sick and can’t be around people right now. even when he pleas for just five minutes, just to talk to you and see with his own eyes that you’re okay, he still says no. 

it’s not until the man slams the door in seonghwa’s face that he lets his hard exterior down, his body deflating and eyes stinging because he hates that he has to do this. hates watching you sit on the couch not meeting his gaze.

“y/n, i’m doing this for-”

“don’t say it,” you snap. “i’m going to school tomorrow and i’m telling him.”

your dad lets out a sigh, sitting down next to you on the couch and running his hands over his face. “the doctor said...”

“one day isn’t gonna kill me,” you say, “i’m already dying.” 

your dad’s face falld before he quietly mumbles out his approval and goes into the kitchen, both of you crying separately, pretending like the both of you aren’t doing so, and wondering why this had to happen.

the tears just follow into monday, holding them back all day when seonghwa catches you before first period and takes you in his arms. 

“you scared me so much,” he mumbled against your head, his tight hold on you nearly crushing you but you don’t care; you both need this and you’ll only need it more later. 

later being when the library cleared out after tutoring. 

seonghwa noticed you purposely lingering by wiping down the tables and slowly putting your things away. he didn’t say anything, instead choosing to lean against the wall and admire you moving slowly around the room.

the room where you guys got to know each other. 

where you went from strangers to friends and watched each other grow. 

where he remembers being so defensive and wary of you because he couldn’t believe someone like you actually existed. 

you feel his eyes on you and smile at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“what?” 

but he only shakes his head, holding his arms out in front of him and causing you to roll your eyes; who would’ve guessed that the man with every full intention of ignoring you would grow to be the clingiest boyfriend known to man?

not that you’re complaining. 

you’re quick to make your way over and wrap your arms around him, your head resting against his chest and his hold on you tight and warm.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, not being able to shake the feeling that something’s wrong with you. 

your stomach plummets when you realize the conversation is about to happen, that nothing is stopping it and now you’re here finally about to tell him.

“i’m okay,” you say, standing on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek. his smile quickly falls, however, when you add on. “but there is something i need to tell you.”

his eyebrows furrow at the seriousness in your tone, taking one look in your already glossy eyes and seeing something is seriously wrong. as nervousness floods through him, he takes you by the hand and leads you over so you both can sit down.

“what?” 

his panic starts to increase more and more as the silence between you stretches, your tongue licking at your dry, chapped lips and your pale skin nearly translucent. 

every time you try to get the words out, he sees you close your mouth and eyes well with tears.

“you’re freaking me out, baby,” he says, squeezing your hand before taking the other. “please, just tell me.”

“i’m...i’m sick,” you eventually get out, swallowing the lump in your throat because you know that’s not good enough. you know that when his eyes narrow and he says he knows, that your dad told him yesterday, you just have to say it.

your first set of tears and sobs finally come, your face falling into your hands as you shake your head over and over. he thinks that scares him more than anything, watching how fast you break down and sob out apologies, barely able to acknowledge his arms around you.

“y/n, what? what is happening? please tell me.” 

you pull back and wipe the wetness off your face, lip trembling and voice shaky when you’re finally able to gather the strength. 

“i have leukemia.”

the words don’t sink in at first, his heart reacting but brain convincing him that, no, that’s not what you could’ve said. there’s no way you could have cancer. 

“no,” he says, shaking his head as a humorless laugh leaves his mouth. “you’re- you’re perfect, you can’t-”

“i was diagnosed two years and i’ve stopped responding to treatments.”

you watch through tears and a breaking heart as his head falls into his hands now, breathing in and out like he’s trying to prevent himself from having a complete panic attack. 

there’s no way you could have cancer. there’s no way you could have cancer and be dying when you’re a perfect high school student. there’s no way you would’ve kept something like this from him.

“and you... you’re just deciding to tell me this?” he asks, his head snapping up so you can finally see the tears in his eyes. “why the fu...why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“i didn’t want you to feel weird or be different around me,” you whisper out quietly, “i was just gonna try to go on with my life and be normal and then just... die quietly or-”

he shoots up from his seat, the clattering of the chair falling back causing you to jump. you watch him pace around the room like he’s unhinged, his hands pulling at his hair as he shakes his head.

“die quietly,” he snarls out, his jaw ticking and tight and he wants so badly to punch something. “die quietly. what the fuck does that even mean?” 

you can only cry quietly watching him pace and digest the news, your head hanging low as the salty tears seep onto your lips. he’s walks over to you and kneels down, his hands on your knees as he looks up at you with teary eyes. 

“please tell me this a joke,” he says, his voice wavering and wet and broken. “please tell me you’re not...”

you can’t tell him that, so you don’t say a word. 

and it’s like that’s all the confirmation he needs to know his girlfriend, the first person he’s learned to love and the first person to ever see something in him, is dying.

he completely falls apart in your lap after that, cries wracking his body as your hands run through his hair. it’s the first time in two years you’ve ever felt scared to die. 

your condition worsens over the next few days, landing you in the hospital and seonghwa in a depression. he doesn’t leave his couch or eat for three days, his mom softly cooing and begging to tell her what happened. 

but it’s like he’s lifeless, his eyes void of anything but sadness, and it’s a sight that his mom can’t stand to look at any longer. 

she had noticed the change in her son immediately, used to his usual teen angst but quickly realizing this was so much more than that. 

she called out of work and sat down next to him, not saying a word but just stroking his hair the way she did when he was a child. 

she didn’t press him about anything, didn’t ask if something had happened with the lovely girl he had brought home weeks ago or if he wanted to talk about anything.

after an hour of just sitting with him in silence, he finally had the strength to say it aloud.

“my girlfriend... she has leukemia and she’s dying, mom,” he said, so straight-forward and matter of facty, like he’s not able to grasp that he’s talking about you. 

the woman feels her heart break for a moment, her eyes swarming with tears as she wraps him in a hug. 

“i don’t know what i’m gonna do,” he says once he’s able to speak again. “i... what am i gonna do without her? i love her.”

“i know you do,” she says gently, her heart truly aching for the both of you right now. “but she’s still here, seonghwa.”

the boy can only look at his mom watching him with her soft gaze, knowing his own face is a red, tear-stained mess. 

“what?” is all he manages to cough out.

“you should be with her right now, while you still can,” she says, not wanting to upset her son further but knowing he needs to hear this. “enjoy the time you have and make what she has left worth it. you both need that, don’t you?”

that was just the kick he needed to get off his couch and charge over to the hospital. barreling into your room and feeling tears come to his eyes again at the sight of you in a hospital bed. 

“seonghwa,” you weakly say, your lips quirking up when you see the boy standing in the doorway. your heart lifts when he smiles back at you, cautiously making his way over to you and whispering out an apology. 

“it’s okay,” you mumble out, leaning into his touch when he places his hand on your cheek.

“it’s not baby. i was an asshole.”

the last thing he expects to hear you do is giggle, sunken eyes shining as you look at his confused expression. 

“what could you possible be laughing about right now?”

“just that it takes me dying for you to admit that you’re an asshole.” 

and perhaps it’s too soon for you to be making jokes like that because his face falls as he backs away from you.

“that was a joke,” you say quietly, pouting in hopes that it’ll get him to lighten up. his lips only form into a thin line, teary gaze shooting around the bare hospital room before back at you.

“it’s not funny.”

you hold your arms out to him, uttering a tiny “come here.” he falls into them immediately, his head burying in your neck and you feel tiny, tears hit your skin ever so often.

“i’m sorry,” you tell him, feeling your own sorrow hit you. 

you’re not only sorry for your comment but sorry that you waited so long to tell him. sorry that you’re now putting him through this and that he’s gonna have to watch you grow weaker and weaker.

“please don’t,” he mumbles against your head. “you have nothing to be sorry for.” 

he knows by the look you give him that you think it’s a complete and utter lie but you really don’t have anything to be sorry for. he understands why you didn’t tell him and why you wanted to remain going on like a normal person.

because if you did tell him, he would’ve never dragged you all around the state on date nights and weekend getaways. he would’ve been far too concerned and nervous, fawning over you and choosing instead to do the same old thing you always did.

so you guys just agree to disagree, his lips crashing down on yours and you smiling against them before a very flustered nurse comes in and apologies for interrupting. 

given how much seonghwa never leaves your side, how from the second he gets out of school until he leaves (at his bribed time of 11:00 pm), you end up apologizing to every member of the staff. 

on the days you have the energy, you’ll walk hand-in-hand through the garden and slow dance with the elderly couple you’ve met; you guys had seen them dancing and they noticed your looks, smiling softly before all but forcing you to join them.

on the days that you have more often than not, when you feel tired and drained, he sits at your bedside or even crawls in next to you. 

your dad had walked in one night to see you both asleep on the tiny bed, seonghwa’s arms around you protectively with your head on his chest, and forgets that he never properly apologized to the boy.

“this is why i did it,” the man says to him the next day. 

they had left to get you soup you’d been craving, pushing seonghwa by his back and sending him a thumbs up despite the terrified expression on his face. 

“what?” 

the man looks at seonghwa as his eyes gloss over. 

“i didn’t wanna involve someone else in this heartbreak. i was... i was trying to spare you.” 

and while the boy can empathize with his reasoning, even feels slightly grateful for it, he finds himself shaking his head. 

“i love her.”

“i know,” the man says, putting his arm around seonghwa’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. how could he not when he sees the way you both look at each other? “she loves you too.”

“i know,” seonghwa says, smiling happily before taking a deep breath. “and that’s why i wanted to ask you something.”

and so it was a random wednesday night, summer break now in session and successfully keeping seonghwa at the hospital all day and night, when you completed your bucket list. 

when you whined at him to kiss you and his eyes lit up, like he was waiting for you to say something of the sort. 

“on one condition,” he says teasingly, his eyebrows shooting up playfully as your lips are just a few inches apart, so close to giving you what you so desperately want. 

“what?” you whine, your lips turning into a pout.

“marry me.”

the wedding was held at the church your dad preached out, a small group of your friends and family gathered for the celebration. it had been the happiest day of your lives, not a hint of a sadness or heartbreak despite the circumstances.

you ate and danced and sang like you were any other young bride, dragging seonghwa out on the dance floor who’s hold on you never loosened. 

he stepped on your feet and you got the cake in his nose but it didn’t even matter. you were able to get married and fall in love with park seonghwa and he was responsible for some of the best days of your life. 

seven months later, seonghwa finds himself walking through that same cemetery he (admittedly) followed you into. 

it was the place where he first realized there was something about you he was gonna fall in love with. where he saw just how much you were gonna effect and change his life. 

he had not only finally learned how to love but how to grieve. 

learned that he didn’t have to be destructive or hide behind his fake persona. that he had people in his life who cared about him and would be there to listen to him.

it’s how he’s coping day by day, knowing that the pain in his heart will never go away but that he’ll learn to live with it. that memories and reminders aren’t supposed to make you sad but serve as a way to carry on someone’s life.

with the blanket he has under his arm, he lays it out and places it in front of the grave. he drops down the flowers he’s brought every month since that devastating day and just begins to talk. 

“why do you come here then?” 

the question holds no malice or judgement, just a genuine curiosity that you perhaps understand. because while it's fairly common for people to visit their loved ones graves, its also something that some get uncomfortable by or don't understand.

"to talk to her, i guess. i think she'd wanna know what's going on in my life."

he mulls over your response in his head, nodding in understatement even though he doesn't really get it.

"what do you talk to her about?" and for the life of him, he can't understand why he's so interested in this. in you, all of the sudden.

you turn to look at him, slightly surprised that he's taking the lead in the conversation and showing an interest. but before he can misconstrue your gaze on him, you shrug your shoulders.

"anything really. i tell her about school or my dad's sermons or what i did during the weekend. sometimes i'll read."

he talks about his upcoming semester of school and how excited he is about it.

“i wish you’d be able to see me,” he says quietly, the lump forming in his throat making it difficult to breathe. 

he stands up to run his hand along the cold stone, his long fingers trailing over it before he moves back and looks over the engraving; a few moments later, he feels arms around his waist and smiles softly at the feeling. 

“you okay?” the soft voice asks him quietly. 

“yeah,” he says lowly, feeling the presence behind him move. “just telling her about school.” 

a quiet, soft hum rings through the air. 

“she’d be proud of you, you know.”

his eyes look over the grave once more before turning around, his eyes and smile softening. “i know.” he stands there silently, looking down at the headstone before picking up his blankets and saying his final goodbyes.

“see you soon, mom.” 

he turns around and meets your teary gaze, taking you in his arms and placing a kiss on the top of your head. 

“no crying, pretty girl.”

the doctors had called your remission nothing short of a miracle, transporting you to a different hospital where new treatments were being held. 

you all had been convinced that it was gonna be a waste, almost denying the treatment all together and letting the spot go to someone who’s family hadn’t come to terms with their loved ones death.

but then seonghwa’s mom came in and softly encouraged you to take it, her hand holding tightly onto yours like she knew you guys were gonna need each other come the time.

“you say that every time,” you sniffle, pouting as he wipes at the tears on your face. 

“because you cry every time.”

your soft giggle rings through the cemetery, your hands intertwined as you walk out of the squeaky gate that always reminds you of the night you shared your bucket list. 

(the bucket list that now has way more than four things on it). 

[gongju-juice]

5. Once Upon a Southern Night

Crescent City

Warnings: Mentions of slavery and Confederacy

New Orleans. Hot and humid as home. Sister city to Mobile. Walking down the steamy streets, it smelled like spicy seasoning and margaritas—sounded like jazz beats and rushing crowds. 

This year, Ash Wednesday fell incredibly late; March 10 to be exact. You never thought you would find yourself stumbling through New Orleans in the middle of Fat Tuesday—half-naked dancers screaming at your boyfriend from parade floats and indiscreet tourists flashing themselves as your family walked by. It was the most humiliating experience you ever felt, and all you could do is curse the Lost Cause soldiers who started the damn holiday in your home city in the first place.

The hospital was located smack in the middle of the old French Quarter where colonial buildings towered above the people, decorated in royal colored beads and winding lights. Nobody could drive the car through the crowd, so you had to get there by walking. You held your mom’s hand with your left, Jasper’s hand with your right.

“It’s never like this at home,” you explained to Jasper with a nervous laugh. “Did you know that the New Orleans mayor has to get permission from Mobile’s mayor every year to practice Mardi Gras?”

He looked down at you with his burning eyes. Since becoming aware of your family’s secret, he’d hardened himself to this emotionless being whose only concern was your safety. You were not allowed to leave his side, and when you had to go to the bathroom, he stood right outside the door like some long lost puppy.

“Something tells me they wouldn’t care whether or not they got permission anyway,” Emmett cackled. “New Orleans is wild.”

“Yeah, and you keep your eyes on the ground, sir,” Rosalie said, punching the side of his arm. The reverberating echo sounded like cracking glass.

The hospital was in very good shape on the outside despite being closed indefinitely for the past seventeen years. According to your mom, immediately after you were born, the place had been completely shut down and abandoned. 

There were pictures of all kinds of historic events hung in antique gold frames on the walls: naval ships on fire at the Battle of Galveston, slaves picking fresh cotton on a South Carolinian plantation, Jefferson Davis’s inauguration in Montgomery, Alabama.

And in the middle of the lobby were a series of three grand portraits of Texas Majors. And at the end: Jasper Whitlock, Houston native, (1845-1863), died during a surprise Union attack in an evacuation order. There he was in his fine uniform, a cowboy hat over his honey curls. He looked so recognizable. . .so familiar in those white gloves—

He touched your side, and you looked around. The others were gone from sight, but you knew they could still hear everything where you were. 

“If I could go back in time, if I could start all over again, I would do so in a heartbeat. I’m not proud of my past, Y/N. Not when I was human, nor when I changed. And I. . .I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness but I—”

There was venom glistening in his eyes. Vampires couldn’t cry. It was one of the things Rosalie said she missed most about being a human. But looking at Jasper now, he looked like he was on the very verge of doing the possible. He fell to his knees.

“I’m so sorry for it all. I’m so sorry for what I did. I never. . .I never did some of the things my comrades did, but that doesn’t make me any less guilty. I still killed people. I killed people for the wrong reason, Y/N. I was a monster, and I can never wipe that blood off my ledger.”

You cradled his face in your hands. “We all have our past, Jas. You might’ve made mistakes, you might’ve done bad things, but you’re not the same person you used to be. It was a different time and era, and frankly, you growing from what you’ve suffered and experienced makes me love you even more.”

“But I was evil. There was evil in my heart, and I thought I was doing right. I convinced myself I was fighting for my neighbors—for my way of life. But the truth is, that way of life was wrong. Whether it was enslaving African Americans or newborns, I still felt all of their pain. It was so much, so much death and heartache,” he insisted, holding on to your wrists like they were the only thing they could hold him upright. “And I’m not worthy to be your man.”

“You damn right, you aren’t,” a feminine voice snapped behind you.

You turned around to face a black woman, just about her early twenties, menacing at Jasper by your side. She had a thick, kinky head of natural textured hair, and she was very well built—like she could run a marathon and beat everyone in the race. And her eyes were a mesmerizing shade of hazel that stood out against her skin.

“Who—who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling and barely above a whisper. The Cullens appeared from the shadows, surprised and slightly on edge that someone was in the hospital that they did not know about.

“My name used to be Ava Lafayette,” she explained, glancing you up down like you were nothing more than a roach. “We used to be—we are sisters.”

“How do I? I feel like we’ve met before.” Jasper touched his head, his fingernails digging into his skin like he was in severe pain. You hugged his waist, trying to comfort him but there wasn’t much you could do for the ailment of a vampire. Carlisle held him upright with his steady hands.

“That’s because we have, Major. You had a mission to gather all male, able-bodied volunteers from Mobile when you stumbled across the Lafayette plantation. I was a house slave of that household, of Preston Lafayette Sr.’s household. And he is also my father.”

You reeled back in horror. “So. . .does that mean? Preston Lafayette II is my brother???!”

She shook her head. “Nope, not this time. He’s my brother. Your father’s name was James. He was a full-blooded slave who lived on a neighboring plantation about thirty miles north.”

“But how is this possible?” your mother demanded, holding your arm. “She was born right here seventeen years ago. My husband and I adopted her. She was a baby!”

Ava glared at her, her eyes brightening inhumanely blue. “How are you skeletons still standing and breathing? It’s the work of the witches. The rule of supernatural order. Except in this case, Y/N is an exception.”

“. . .What?”

Ava suddenly waved her hand, and the air around you transformed into a place that was not the hospital. You were in the middle of a hot, blazing field, there were little black children running around carrying cracked buckets of water. Horses whinnied at the swarming flies, and poorly abused men and women sang in the fields.

“Massah completely forgot about Mama after I was born. About six years later when she had enough cloth to make her own wedding dress, she and James jumped the broom. You were born a couple of months later, right around the time Preston Jr. himself was born.

The two of you were inseparable. You played in the fields together when you weren’t in the Big House secretly learning lessons with Missus. He taught you how to ride his horse, Midnight, and you showed him how to gather berries by the river where the girls washed the laundry.

The two of you fell in love, and although you’d gotten much too old to be running around, Preston loved you to pieces. He begged Massah to let you in the house with all the fair-skinned servants. So, Massah took it one step further. He gave you to him for his nineteenth birthday.

The night of the party, however, Major Whitlock and some of his men came riding up to the front steps. They invited him in for dinner, and Preston had no choice but to join since his father was much too old to serve and he had no other male siblings. 

He had to leave you behind, but not before finding out you were expecting’. It wasn’t uncommon for those kinds of things to happen back then, but it was still big news. Preston was devastated. He never believed in slavery anyhow, but he was afraid Missus would sell you if she knew about the baby. He was supposed to be getting married to Miss Abigail Mae Shepherd, and it would not be good news to hear about a half-negro baby in the plantation.

Unfortunately, Preston was right. While he was gone, Mama was furious. Missus had made arrangements for you to be sold up to a whore house in Charleston the next week. But see the thing about Mama—she was no ordinary slave. She was a witch who’d given up her magic in order to be with a human, James. 

She sought help from her friends, but they would not help her. So, with no other choice, she decided to cast the forbidden spell.

She ignored the laws of time, erased your memories, and de-aged you in order to send you to the year (----), when you were ‘born.’ This hospital was never real, just an illusion that came with the spell. She intended for some human to adopt you so you could grow up as a normal child in the 21st century, but instead you were adopted by a white vampire.”

The illusion melted away, and once again you were in the dusty hospital.

“You don’t know the pain and suffering I went through while you were enjoying the amenities of the future. Mama, after breaking the most sacred forbidden spell of the witches, was sentenced to death by all of the North American clans. They allowed Missus to have her hanged, and then she turned her rage onto me.

I eventually ran to New Orleans to escape the Lafayettes and find the truth of our supernatural background. There, the witches accepted me, albeit begrudgingly, and taught me how to use my power. I knew I’d eventually find you, one year or another, but I didn’t expect it would take nearly two centuries to do so.”

Your heart was broken. Your whole life—as tragic as it was—was built with that man who was chasing after you now. He was the father to your unborn child, the child that would never be born. You’d grown up together, known each other inside and out. But you’d completely forgotten him and now he was coming back—and for what reason?

“So. . .witches. . .are they immortal?” Carlisle asked.

“Precisely—if they choose to enable their powers and stay that way. Only a witch can kill a witch. We witches created the first vampires in the world as a part of our Goddess’s order. The werewolves and shapeshifters and La Push were created some time before that as well.”

“But why is Preston trying to come for Y/N? I thought you said he was against slavery? If he really loves her, why didn’t he just tell her the whole truth in the first place?” Your mom demanded.

Ava's eyes turned back hazel, and a chair appeared behind her. “Because he wants to completely ruin Jasper. He blames Jasper for making him leave, and he blames Jasper for all the wars he fought with Maria in the South. And the little devil has allied herself with his cause, for no one wants to see him suffer more than she does.”

You felt Jasper tense beside you. None of this was his fault, he was just doing what he was ordered. But Preston was focusing all his energy on completely destroying your bond with him. Earlier, Jasper explained that you were his mate. Perhaps, this was a revenge plot?

“But why would he think I’d willingly fall into his arms like we’re still in love? It was over a century ago, and I don’t remember any of it!” you shouted.

“That man died in 1863 when he was turned. Since that day, he’s been stuck in the past—eternally bound to the promise to return back to you. No matter what you say, he’s always going to after you. That’s what he told his mother, and the next day she signed your papers.”

Jasper wrapped a protective arm around your middle. “That won’t happen. He won’t take her away from me. And as for Maria, I know her better than anyone else in this world. I’m not scared if it comes to a fight.”

“Why can’t I see anything anymore?” Alice cried. “And why can’t the witches help?”

“Because once a witch is aware of what they are, vampires can no longer turn them or use their gifts on them. Maria and Preston have also probably enlisted the help of witches or wolves to cover their tracks. And as for the witches. . .they have completely shunned Y/N from society. In fact, they’d probably be more willing to kill her than help, but because of me, they’re holding their preference of the law at bay.”

Edward, frustrated at the lack of his telepathic abilities, said, “So we’re going in blind, the witches won’t help—isn’t this a Volturi level threat?”

Ava sighed. “The Volturi is completely submissive to the witches. If they come near a witch family or steps within a mile radius of even the city of New Orleans, the entire vampire race will be completely wiped out. Sorry, but they won’t be much help in this fight.”

You pressed your hand to your chest, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. Immediately, Jasper caught you as you wobbled on your feet from the lack of oxygen. His scent comforted you, but you felt the distance between the two of you more than ever. At one point, you were pledged to another man; the same man after his life now.

“So what can we do?” your mother and Esme pleaded. “How can we save her? They’re bringing their newborn armies after us, the seven of us won’t be enough!”

Ava twirled a ball of light in her fingers thoughtfully. You realized that despite the fact she was biracial, she looked so similar to you. You shared the same round nose and shape of lips. 

“I really hate you more than anything, if I’m being honest. Your mom favored you and sent you away, leaving me in the dust and without a mother in a time when I didn’t understand a bit of what magic was or that the supernatural even existed,” she admitted. “But you’re still my sister, and you’re the only family I’ve got left. I’m going to try to get some of my friends to come to our side, but that’s no guarantee. Sadly, Helen of Troy is still pinned for being the start of war.”

“And we have some friends of our own,” Carlisle said. “And we’ll try to convince the shapeshifters to help too. If we could lure them back to La Push, that would mean infringing on werewolf territory and it would give them no choice but to defend Y/N.”

Jasper held you tighter, and his eyes darkened. “I don’t care what I have to do. Preston has been sorely mistaken, and now we have an old score to settle. Y/N and I are in love now, and we always will be. What happened in 1863 will stay in 1863, and I will be the one to make sure that happens.”

You snuggled into his chest, closing your eyes. You prayed to God—the Goddess or whoever—that you and your family would end up okay. You prayed for the baby that was never born, the baby that was never loved, and you prayed for your biological mother’s tortured soul. But lastly, and more importantly, you prayed for Jasper.

Don’t you like watching Jasper ride his hOnSe??

Part Three   Part Four

[chan-yolo]

At Last I See the Light

A/N So, I got this ask a little while ago, and I have been working on the scenario since, I got carried away with it so it is a long one. But I hope you like it anon, and I hope I’ve done it right haha.

Genre: Fluff, Disney workers au!

Pairing: Park Chanyeol / Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4419

Being a Disney princess was never something you had in mind when you thought of career prospects. To be honest you thought you were going to be an accountant. Well that’s what your family told you. But you were not good a maths, in fact you were probably the worst at it. But just because you didn’t necessarily want to be a Disney princess, didn’t mean you didn’t watch the Disney films, your favourite being Rapunzel.

Your friends always teased you about how much you would obsess over the movie, singing the songs to the point where you could sing them exactly like the character herself. Long story short, your friends had convinced you to apply for the Rapunzel role at Disney Land, and well here you were. On top of a big colourful float, dressed up as Rapunzel, your long blonde hair (not surprisingly a wig) cascading down your back in a huge braid. And beside you stood your tall friend, Chanyeol, completely decked out in Flynn Ryder gear.

Chanyeol became your Flynn Ryder the same time you became Rapunzel. You got on like a house on fire, he was probably the nicest guy you’d ever met with the biggest smile and biggest personality. You were stuck like glue and quickly became best friends. You couldn’t think of anyone else you would want to have beside you.

Chanyeol’s arm came to wrap around your waist, you looked at him, your signature smile on your face as you watched him wave out to the people watching the parade. You turned back to the crowd, waving and mouthing hellos at all the children enthusiastically waving at you. Even though being a princess wasn’t something you saw yourself as, you loved the joy on the kids’ faces when they got to meet you as Rapunzel. You could see the end of the line coming as the doors where the floats disappeared into was getting closer. You waved for the last time at a small family at the end before disappearing behind the scenes.

You let out a sigh, relaxing into the hold Chanyeol still had around your waist. Your hands came to rub your cheeks, trying to rub the stiffness out of them from all the smiling you had just done. Chanyeol let go of you to make his way down the steps required to get off the huge float, you followed him, cautious of where you stepped. Half way down you felt his arms wrap around your waist, helping you the rest of the way. It was a routine now, but it still made your heart flutter every time you felt him touch you. Once down you turned to face your giant friend. He gave you a wide smile, pinching your cheek.

“Yeol, it hurts!” You whined at him rubbing your cheek.

“You’d think you’d be used to all the smiling by now.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders leading you out.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that amount of unnatural smiling a day, how do you do it?” You laughed at him.

“I have my favourite princess next to me, that’s how.” He squeezed you in a side hug, making you shake your head, hoping he didn’t see the little blush dusting your cheeks.

“At least that’s nearly it for the day.” You wrapped your arm around his waist, smiling at some of your friends who walked past you. “Come on, we need to get changed we have a character meeting to go to.” You went to push him in the direction of the guys changing rooms. He pulled you back, enveloping you in a hug, your face squishing into his chest.

“See you in a bit princess.” Your rolled your eyes at his nickname. Pulling away from him.

“See you in a bit.”

. . .

When you walked into the small meeting room, you knew you were late, everyone was there, and they were just waiting on you. Everyone’s eyes locked onto your form, and you flicked your gaze quickly to Chanyeol, before bowing your head slightly in apology making your way to the seat next to your tall friend.

“Sorry, the wig was being difficult.” You spoke in a small voice, some of the girls gave you sympathetic looks, knowing what it was like to have to deal with the wigs day in and day out.  Chanyeol wrapped an arm around the back of your chair, as if on instinct, his fingers moving to twirl a strand of your hair as he looked to the front of the room. You smiled to yourself at the feeling, never getting bored of it.

“Okay guys, great work today on the parades, you’re all doing a great job.” The team leader at the front smiled, clasping his hands together while looking over some sheets of paper.

“Now, we have something exciting coming up, and we’re sure it’s going to be a lot of fun, and it gives you all a chance to showcase your talents. We’re doing a show that will come on every day, the information is in the packs we are giving to you, if you could just pass them around.” The leader, Thomas you remembered his name was, started handing out information packs. When they reached you, your opened the booklet immediately, to see all the information planned down to a t.

“Now you will need to go through a whole new course of training, well rehearsals really, as there will be songs to learn, lines and choreography.” At the word choreography you turned your gaze to Chanyeol, seeing how he tensed up at the prospect of having to dance. “In the packet you all have your assigned rehearsal times, you have all the lyrics as well as a CD in there, and a DVD where you can learn the dance in your free time. There will be a follow up meeting tomorrow where we will talk to you individually and be more thorough, any questions?” A silence followed the question, no one having anything to add to the meeting.

“Brilliant, I’ll see you all tomorrow.” At that, everyone started packing up getting ready to leave. Walking out the door with Chanyeol in tow, you reached the parking lot, walking in silence, which was strange for the tall man.

“Yeol are you okay.” You turned around to face him, reaching his car and leaning up against it as your eyes scanned his face.

“Yeah, it’s just the dancing, I can’t dance, you know that.” He pouted at you.

“In all honesty I have never seen you dance, dabbing doesn’t count.” You pointed at him, making him smile. “Chan, you’re talented, insanely so, you can sing and act and play an array of instruments, you’re a prince for goodness sake, I’m pretty sure you’ll pick up dancing easily with practice, that’s what the classes are for, besides, you have me to help you.” Your hand encircled his wrist, rubbing it soothingly. He took you into a hug, his head resting on top of yours, letting out a sigh.

“What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn.” You mumbled into his chest, causing him to let out a deep chuckle.

. . .

It had been a few weeks and every day was a routine of mostly practice for this show, and sometimes working in the park. Though the heavy amount of practice was taking its toll on Chanyeol, and he was feeling completely stressed out. Which is why he was currently nursing a beer and looking like a kicked puppy on your sofa. You shifted so your legs were in his lap, glancing this face to see it full of frustration. You leaned forward to put your own beer on the table, leaning back into the armrest, you nudged Chanyeol’s thigh with your foot, until he turned away from the movie currently playing on your TV and looking at you.

“What’s up?” You tilted your head to the side, eyes scanning his face, heart skipping at the adorable expression it adorned.

“Nothing.” He huffed, turning back to the TV, leaning his head into the palm of his hand, his elbow resting on the armrest on his side of the couch. You lifted your feet off his lap, moving into a kneeling position, you shuffled closer to your friend, moving so you were flush up against his side, your face resting on his shoulder, staring at the side of his face intently.

“Yeol, you’re lying.” Your hand came up to tug lightly on his earlobe, before sneaking to the back of his neck and playing with the fine hair there. You lifted your head up, looking over his profile as he let out a frustrated groan.

“I can’t dance y/n, I’ve been trying but I’m not getting anywhere.” He turned his head to look at you, your faces now only centimetres apart, your heart rate picked up at him being so close to you. Your eyes traced his face, homing in on the small pout on his lips. You were shaken out of your trance by the puff of warm air he let out in a sigh, making you move back quickly to your side of the couch. Leaning forwards, you picked up the TV remote and your beer, pausing Zootopia and taking a swig from your bottle before you turned back to an expectant Chanyeol.

“What makes you think you’re not getting anywhere?” leaning his head back on the sofa Chanyeol raised his own bottle to his lips, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m nowhere near as good as anyone else, I’m nowhere near as good as you.” You watched as he took his own swig of the alcoholic drink, watching as his Adams apple bob with each gulp he made.

“You’re doing better than you think.” Your eyes trailed the expanse of his neck, running over his collar bone that was peeking out from his loose shirt. At this point you knew the beer was hazing your inhibitions, but you were at a stage where you were comfortable with the haze the alcohol brought you. “Come on lets practice.” Chanyeol’s head shot in your direction, watching you as you placed your beer down again, pushing yourself off the sofa and scooting round to the other side of the table where there was more room. You looked back at Chanyeol, your arms outstretched as you smiled at him.

“Come on.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea, we’ve been drinking…” hesitantly he sat up, debating the situation.

“You need to loosen up, the beer helps.” You nodded enthusiastically at him. sighing he pushed himself up, moving towards you. Your smile widened as you turned to face him, looking at him encouragingly. Pulling the phone out of your back pocket you scrolled through your music library to find your duet song you had downloaded a few days ago, pressing play and setting it on the coffee table.

“Okay, you’ve got this.” You went into hold, his left hand taking your right into his, while his other hand settled on your waist loosely. You moved your freehand down to the one that was holding your waist, pushing it so he gripped onto you tighter. “This is a couple dance, not an awkward teen disco, you can hold me Yeol.” You smiled teasingly at him. His shoulders relaxed at the comment, his brain catching up with the fact he didn’t need to be cautious around you. Moving your hand up to his broad shoulder, you looked at his face, seeing the doubt masking it.

“Okay, now the movement is just a simple waltz, easy, right?” Chanyeol nodded half-heartedly looking down at his feet, just like he did in every session. Your hand moved away from his shoulder to cup his chin, tilting his head so he could look you in the eyes, you moved to cup his cheek as you smiled at him.

“Just look at me okay?” He nodded again, before starting to lead you in a waltz, you smiled up at him, your hand that was once on his cheek, squeezing his shoulder encouragingly. “See you’ve got this.” He smiled at you as you started to travel the small expanse of your living room.

“Do you remember the spins?” You whispered out to him, relaxing into his hold completely.

“I think so.” His eyes dashed between your own.

“Okay let’s try them.” Chanyeol spun you once successfully, his face glowing with happiness that he got it right, though when he tried to pick you up and spin you for the lift in the choreography, his foot got caught on the furniture, causing him to fall landing with a thud on his back. You let out a yelp of surprise, falling with him, your head hitting his chest. You let out a groan lifting your head up to look at the clumsy man you had fell on.

“You okay?” You groaned out, head immediately falling back down to rest in the crook of his neck. Chanyeol let out a groan like your own.

“Yeah, just a bit dizzy, are you okay?” His hand started rubbing your back, soothing circles in to the skin.

“Yeah, I had you to break my fall.” You leaned up smiling at him.

“Maybe beer was a bad idea.” Chanyeol chuckled up at you. Though you didn’t move to respond, you were stuck in a trance, a trance where the only thing you could feel was the way his hands soothed circled into the bottom of your back, a trance where your eyes would not break away from the curvature of his lips as they stayed upturned in his playful smile, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t think straight, but hell even through this, the words ‘Kiss him’ were being screamed throughout your mind.

“Y/n? Are you sure you’re okay?” You flicked your gaze to his own, your lips parting causing his own gaze to follow the movement, as if you had swapped roles. His hands stopped moving on your lower back, one moving to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your breath hitched as the same hand cupped your chin, thumb running across your lower lip. You watched, barely breathing, as his eyes intently watched the movement of his thumb on your lips. The brown orbs you loved so much stared back into your own for a brief second before moving back. Moving his hand to the back of your head, he started to push you towards his own, looking at you tentatively as he leant up, his nose now brushing yours.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was deep, raspy, but hesitant, as if he didn’t want to break the silence you were having, but he needed to ask the question. You gave him a nod, not being able to verbalise your want for his lips on your own, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. His stare followed the movement, moving forward to place his own lips where your tongue once was.

His lips were slightly chapped and tasted of beer, but it felt wonderful. His lips moved over yours quickly. Once. Twice. Three times. Before moving over, them a fourth time, though slower, as if he was taking his time with this one. His tongue peeked out sheepishly, licking at your bottom lip which made you let out a small involuntary sigh you hoped he didn’t hear. He did. You parted from each other, both sharing the same frantic look in your eyes. You had just kissed your best friend. He had just kissed you.

“Sorry.” Chanyeol’s response was quick, and you sat up, unconsciously sitting in his lap as he rose following you.

“It’s fine.” You whispered back, lips still tingling from Chanyeol’s being pressed against them mere moments ago. Chanyeol let out a cough, his hands reaching for your own, playing with your fingers.

“Fine?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I do it again?”  You could literally feel your cheeks heat up with his question. Your mind was literally screaming yes. But all you could do is smile shyly and nod. Where had your speech gone to? God knows. Cupping your face again, Chanyeol kissed you with slightly more confidence, his kisses slow, his tongue teasing your own. You were on fire, every part of you heating up at his kisses and touches.

This is how you remained for most of the night. Sharing giggles and kisses on your living room floor, until you both fell asleep, saving an explanation for the morning.

. . .

The next morning you woke up with a sore back but at least you were warm. Opening your eyes, you came face to face with a sleeping Chanyeol. Butterflies started to manifest in your stomach at the thought of last night. Then your anxieties settled in. what if he was drunk? What if he regretted it this morning and it was all a heat of the moment thing?

Carefully you pushed his lanky arm from your waist, managing to stand up silently, stepping over the tall child and making your way to the kitchen. Once there you let out a groan, trying to stretch the muscles in your back and soothe them. Regretting falling asleep on your floor. You busied yourself with making tea.

Leaning against the counter, you sipped at the hot liquid, thoughts drifting back to the way Chanyeol’s lips felt on yours. You had liked him for so long, and now there was a chance he could like you back. The possibility he doesn’t sent a cold shiver up your spine, making you hug the warm cup of tea to your chest.

“Morning.” You looked up at the sound of Chanyeol’s gravelly voice. He sent you a warm smile which you returned, watching him walk over to you.

“Morning” You barely whispered back, peaking at him from over the mug in your hands. He stopped in front of you, taking the mug and bringing it to his own lips, taking a sip.

“Your floor is uncomfortable.” His eyes flickered to the cupboard beside your head, the awkwardness of last night filtering into the early morning.

“I don’t usually sleep on it so…” Your own stare landed on his hands wrapped around your Rapunzel mug he had gotten you a while back.

“Maybe we should use the bed next time.” Your eyes shot up at his remark, surprised that he was already staring at you, his gaze strong as it held your own.

“Maybe we should.” You couldn’t stop the shy smile from overtaking your face, causing Chanyeol’s own smile to bloom, a tinge of pink dusting his cheeks. Reaching forwards, you commandeered your mug, giving him another smile before drinking the rest of your tea.

“So…” Chanyeol scratched the back of his head, looking back to the spot on the cupboard next to you. “How long have you liked me?” At this you choked on your tea. Turning around you placed the mug in your sink, still coughing up the liquid you inhaled. Chanyeol’s large hand rubbed circles into you back trying to soothe you.

“What?” You spluttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You do like me, right? I didn’t read this wrong?” You turned around to face your tall friend, making him take a small step back away from you.

“You didn’t.” You pulled down the sleeves of your jumper, fiddling with the fabric that fell past your fingers. “I do like you, I have for a while.” Your eyes nervously moved down to stare at your tiled floor, a swarm of butterflies frantically flying around in your stomach, making you uneasy.

“Oh, thank god.” You looked up to find Chanyeol with a hand on his chest and his eyes closed, as if he had just had the biggest fright. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I was so worried that you would say last night was a mistake.”

“You didn’t think it was?” You asked, eyes wide, fingers twisting the sleeves of your jumper, heart racing in anticipation.

“No, If anything I should’ve kissed you sooner, like six months ago when I knew I liked you.” A huge smile was plastered on your face at his words.

“You like me?” Your voice was small, happiness evident in it. Chanyeol moved closer, his hands moving to your own, stopping your from continuing your nervous habit, intertwining his fingers with your own instead.

“A lot.” He nodded at you, sharing your smile. Your face landed on his chest, and you wriggled in your spot, your heart exploding with happiness.

“Yeooool.” You whined out, shaking your head.

“What?” You heard him let out a chuckle. Looking up at him you smiled, your cheek pushed into his chest.

“How am I supposed to work now?” you laughed, shaking your head.

“It’s fine, it’ll make being a Disney couple even more believable, because we don’t have to hide it anymore.” You hid your face back into his chest. His long arms came to wrap around your waist as he hugged you to him, placing a soft kiss on your head, laughing at your cuteness.

. . .

Weeks went past full of dance, vocal and script practices, fittings were being done and everything was drawing closer to the first performance. Chanyeol had been getting a lot better at dancing, everyone complimented him on how good he was but he still had doubts.

Your relationship with Chanyeol hadn’t changed that much, even though you hadn’t established what you were, your touches lingered and were full of care, the smiles were more meaningful, the newest developments were the kisses you would get at random points in the day. Soft, quick and playful. Different to the ones he would give you on his couch every night, while you were supposed to be watching a drama or practicing your lines. Which was what you were doing right now. You knew you needed to practice, but once Chanyeol’s lips were pressed to your own, it was like getting the first sip of water after a drought.

His tongue battled with yours as he deepened the kiss, earning soft little whimpers from you. His body was pressed over your own, as you leaned against the armrest of the couch, your legs parted for him to settle comfortably in-between them. His big hands were holding you gently, one on your waist and the other on your cheek, thumb soothingly rubbing the soft skin. You pulled away from hiss kisses, enough to stop it, but not enough so you weren’t touching, his lips still grazing your own.

“The performance is tomorrow.” Your voice was a low whisper, not wanting to disturb the moment, but knowing you had to.

“I know.” Chanyeol’s eyes were still closed as he captured your lips in another kiss. You pulled away again, trying not to get sucked into the pleasure that comes with just being near him.

“I have to go.” At this, Chanyeol’s eyes opened, scanning over your flushed face. He sat up bringing you with him, so that you were resting in his lap, legs either side of him.

“You can stay if you want.” Another small kiss was left on your lips, followed by a series of pecks scattered around your face, until he made his way down to the cook of your neck. Giving you soft kisses, careful not to mark the skin.

“I can’t, you know we’ll be late tomorrow if I stay over.” Your fingers threaded through his hair, playing with the soft brown strands that you loved. He tilted his head up pouting at you. Leaning down you pecked his lips, before leaving a kiss on his nose. “You’ll see me tomorrow.” He let out a sigh before picking you up and placing you on the floor, wrapping you in a hug, he swayed the both of you from side to side in the middle of his living room.

“Fine, but you’re staying over tomorrow.” He looked down at you, kissing your forehead as you nodded, finally letting you leave to go to your bed, reluctantly, but you finally left.

. . .

The performance was in full swing, and it was a sold-out show. Everyone was doing so well, there were no slip ups, and you had made it to the last performance. Chanyeol had aced every dance, and you couldn’t help but be so proud of him.

As the show came to an end you all took your time to wave and bow at the audience before heading backstage. And as everyone was heading to get out of costume, you ran the opposite way, trying to find Chanyeol.

Soon enough you found your tall friend. You called out his name and he turned around, smile wide on his face. As soon as you reached him you engulfed him in a hug as he lifted you at the same time. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his own had a strong hold on your waist.

“You did it! I’m so proud of you, I knew you could.” You gushed at him, almost tearful with the amount of pride you held.

“I couldn’t have without you.” He smiled at you before setting you down. You smiled at each other, so enamoured by the other that you nearly forgot where you were. You started to pull away, needing to get changed, but he stopped you, puling you into him again.

“Y/n?” His voice was low, his eyes sparkling with excitement. You nodded at him to continue. “I wanted to tell you that morning in your kitchen, but I was too nervous, but I know that if I don’t tell you I’ll regret it.” He let out a long shaky breath, his smile never leaving his face.

“Y/n, I’m in love with you.” Your heart stopped, just to pick up and beat erratically. A smile bloomed on your face and you almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“That’s good, because I’m in love with you too.” You giggled out, your response soothing the worried lines that had come to crease Chanyeol’s forehead. He dipped down to capture your lips with his, the kiss soft and loving, the reality of the moment causing the both of you to smile into the kiss, breaking apart you smiled up at each other, before kissing each other again. Never wanting to let go of each other.

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Say You Do | Chapter Four

Other Chapters found, HERE Warning: Smut included.

Emily:

A weight is lifted off my shoulders as I sit shotgun in Harry’s sportscar. My previous emotions, being brought on at the mere thought of our wedding, enveloped me into a state of sadness and frustration. The moment the cold jewellery touched my fair skin, momentarily, my clouded emotions escaped me. Though my only mode of release was tears, it had to be done. Better done behind closed doors, than in public.

The car is silent, and I sit slightly angled so I am able to look at the scenery — both outside, and inside of the car. Harry was a sight I couldn’t get tired of looking at, even during this period of our life, he remains my salvation.

I can feel myself falling asleep as the car smoothly drives along a soft country road. I desperately am trying not to doze off, currently enjoying my location and my company, I want to feel this way for as long as possible. My body, however, is sleep deprived, from my constant tossing and turning, the overthinking and plotting.

“You can take a nap, if you’d like,” Harry is the first to speak as if he is able to read my mind. “We will only arrive in an hour.”

“I wish I wasn’t so tired,” I sigh, kicking off my shoes and resting my feet on the seat beneath me. “I want to admire the scenic route.”

“We will take this way home, then.” Harry glances over at me, shooting me a smirk. “I’ll wake you when we arrive.” He promises.

I give in, without a word. As I close my eyes, the touch of Harry’s hand intertwining with mine rattles my core, momentarily waking me as I glance down at our connection. It feels nice, and I decide not to decline the contact I had been craving but was too afraid to ask for. His minor action is one so powerful, I sleep soundly the whole way to the venue.

I wake up only moments before arriving and lay eyes on the beautiful church at the end of our journey. Our dear friends are finally getting married today. Today is one of the happiest, most important, days of their lives. For me, and even possibly Harry, the day before us would consist of an abundance of flashbacks, and envy, for the spouses to be.

As Harry parks his car, I can feel the eyes of the guests burning through the windows at us. I glance over, up towards the steps of the church, where a number of guests stand as they wait to enter the building. Some, are people we know, friends we had become distant with over the years and throughout Harry’s success.

Others are simply onlookers, excited to see a man of status attending the same gathering as them. This, somehow, makes me feel important, on a day that is about everything except Harry and I.

“Are you ready, love?” Harry asks me, squeezing my hand before shifting the car into park.

“Ready if you are.” I nod, smiling towards him.

Almost in sync, we open our doors, stepping out gracefully and looking at each other over the roof of the car. Harry smirks at me, now making a joke of us mimicking each other’s every move. We close our doors on the count of three and strut to the back of the car where we meet each other.

Harry’s hand reaches for mine over the trunk of the car, and with that, we walk towards the group gawking in our direction.

“Why are they staring at us like that?” I question, looking around in confusion. “Do I have something on my face?”

As we ascend the steep concrete steps, Harry takes a place behind me and lifts the small train of my dress high enough to enable easy steps on my part. I’m flattered, and in awe, by his actions, and take notice that the people surrounding us feel the same. We stop, momentarily, and chat up a few old friends. They compliment us, with bright eyes and convincing words, but that is hardly enough to trigger a genuine thanks from us.

“Emily, you’re glowing!” Our friend, Patty, chirps to me. She seems far too excited to be seeing Harry and me again, but I must admit, it is fun to play pretend with people you hardly see.

“Thank you! I feel fantastic.” I nod, smiling at her as she sways in her dress. “I have nothing to complain about these days!”

I lean on Harry, and we both laugh at my comment along with those around us. But, different from them, we are laughing for completely alternative, and obvious, reasons. At least we are keeping our sense of humour until the end.

Our interactions are kept to a minimum before the host calls us into the church to take our seats. Thankfully, we have been seated beside a couple we do not know. We have escaped interrogation, although, I must admit, we are good liars.

Watching our friends elope, and profess their undying love for each other, causes tears to escape my eyes. I find myself not being the only one here who is brought to tears, many women around me are patting their tears away with soft silk tissues. For them, their tears are those of joy, the ones you can feel raising up your eyes as you smile at a tender sight. On my part, the tears are bitter and burn as they enter my tired weeping eyes. Harry feels this vibe, wrapping his arm around me as he brings me closer to his side.

“I will be with you forever,” The groom ends his vow, and kisses the hand of his soon-to-be bride.

“I said something like that too, you know,” Harry whispers into my ear, before kissing my temple. “And I still mean it, if you’ll have me.”

I look up at him, a tear travels down my cheek, leaving cold remnants behind. He peeks down at me, his big, warm, hand raises to my cheek. His touch is so soft, as his thumb brushes the heavy tear from my skin. I lean into his palm, closing my eyes as if we are the only people in the room. I nod gently, before looking at him again. His green eyes radiate from my perspective, the high church lights cast down on us, and it feels like I am witnessing an angel.

That interaction was enough for me and, almost immediately, I felt better, and authentically began to clap for the happy couple. I was like them once, I already had my parade and shoved the love I had for my significant other down the throats of my guests. Having said that, the divorce rate in England is roughly fifty per cent, and I hope they come out on the better half.

As they walk out the doors and collapse into their awaiting limo, the guests are all piling up at the door, in a rushed and messy attempt to reach the venue in a timely matter. Harry and I do not hang back, and are one of the first out of the church and darting to our car.

I can feel my dress flying behind me, as Harry pulls me through the parking lot and into the car. We speed off onto the narrow road and follow the car in front of us to the next building. I feel wildly comfortable beside Harry, and for the first time, in a long time, it feels like we aren’t enduring any difficulties. I feel like my old self; I never want this day to end. Approaching the hall, which also doubles as a hotel in which we will be staying, I take in its beauty. The large white pillars out front and tall rounded doors give away the luxury of the setting.

Upon entering, we easily find our table. We sit with our old friends and shoot the shit for almost an hour before dinner is served. The room is packed, and filled with only the most beautiful mood. Harry and I take it upon ourselves to congratulate the newlyweds and present our gift to them as a generous check, encased in an envelope with both our names pressed onto it.

It was the least we would do.

As the night passes on, the tables begin to empty, as the dancefloor overflows. I smile to myself as I observe a few of the other couples dancing, from the comfort of my seat, and little kids gracefully playing and waltzing around like the adults, doing their best to stay occupied.

I’ve always admired the scenes of weddings, they’re continuously flowing with a loving enthusiasm, there’s never a dull moment, between the laughter of children dancing and the smiling sensation of the happy couples.

I take a taste of my wine, Harry’s hand caressing against my leg, his fingers cautiously moving the material of my dress to slip under it.

His warm touch clasped to the tenderness of my skin spontaneously permeates my soul with a sense of clarity. I glance over at him, noticing how he’s smiling with his eyes focused on the dance floor, nonchalantly causing my toes to curl slightly within my heeled shoes. My eyes mirror his gaze, my own smile painting across my supple lips as I witness a young girl and boy dancing, her little white dress floating with each step.

I feel him squeeze my thigh considerately under the table, granting a sudden urge of desire to sweep through me.

I bite down on my lip, taking a small breath as I sense the tip of his fingers rubbing circles against the softness of my skin. At first, I disregard the tenderness and the intriguing touch; I have longed for so long to feel his touch, but I’m sure it’s just in the heat of the moment.

I take another sip of my wine, placing it down as I perceive his hand inching higher, his fingers lacing the outline of my lingerie, immediately driving my head to revolve in roaring circles. I take a breath, my eyes narrowing over to meet a far-flung grin, anticipation becoming something that I’m struggling to avoid.

A shiver radiates down my spine the minute his fastidious fingers continue to grace the touch against the slender column of my lingerie, almost causing my breath to hitch in my throat. He nonchalantly reaches for his wine glass, takes a drink, the delicacy of his touch still enthralling me, moderately, and steadily.

I let out a breath as he stops tampering with my sanity, moving his hand to decline back towards my lower thigh, his eyes shimmering at me with that cheeky shine they have possessed since the day I met him.

“Lose ye’ breath? Hm?” He chuckles like the tease he used to be before things began to escalate into a rocky abyss of insignificance.

I don’t respond as I mildly bear my teeth to sink into the mellowness of my bottom lip, striving not to concede my irate sentiments to leave him of innocence and drag him to the hotel room.

It has been months since the sensation of his touch being pressed to my body pervaded my senses. I was freezing and fragile, now I appear rekindled and swelled with an intensity I can not fathom to detail. My eyes take intimation of his cut creased jawline, down to his crimson red tie, and the way his white shirt is rolled up his sleeve, exposing a few of his youthful tattoos engraved into his surface like a permanent cascading waterfall.

I subtly lick my lips, savouring the aftertaste of my wine, beginning to wish to taste what his sweet lips provide, something I have not sampled in a while — something I crave — like a bee covets luscious, rectified honey.

I catch him off guard when I caress my hand to relax on his inner thigh, his eyes immediately diverting their full attention to me as I smirk in a spontaneous manner. He swallows the last bit of his wine with a hard gulp, pressing the glass to the table.

“Be nice,” He raspily clears his throat, eyeing a couple as they pass the table, oblivious to the devious shenanigans leisurely taking place under the table, out of view.

I inch my hand further up his thigh, gliding itself skillfully over his package, his jaw clenching as he gulps.

“Em,” He breathes, my hand allowing itself to stay positioned to tease his delicacy.

“Breathless?” I tease him the same way he did to me, entertained by his darkening eyes, and his trembling lips as he attempts to battle the same desire I am caving into. “Hotel?” I whisper, his eyes closing for a split second, his head descending in a nod.

“You’re going to have to move your hand, first.” He comments and I raise a brow, just now noticing his hand gripping my thigh mildly, but enough to make it known he is caving.

With a smirk, I cast my eyes between his own and his hand settling on my groin still, “So do you,” I remind him, his hand releasing itself from my thigh, mine doing the same, setting him free as he stands to his feet, he grabs his suit jacket from its position overhanging the chair, driving it up his arms before extending me his hand — the hand that executed an enthusiasm — a burning in my soul that I have neglected to welcome in a while.

Like a pair of giggly children, we subtly find our way departing the scene of the reception, managing to disappear without being observed by the main people of the wedding.

The tour from the elevator to the doorway of the room was a brisk walk permeated with a pang of intense lingering hunger. The moment Harry thrusts the door open, I enter, turning around and mounting him against the door as it shuts, his hands spontaneously clasping to the material of my gown embracing my waist, our tongues caressing and binding like two ships.

He groans into our kiss, carefully pushing off the door, guiding us towards the bed, my hands brushing off his suit jacket, enabling it to drop to the carpeted flooring of the hotel room. I begin to press my agile fingers to the buttons of his shirt, shakily undoing them in a hasty manner, his own hand unzipping the back of my dress.

When I get his shirt wide open, his bare chest staring at me in the face, I force the shirt down his flexed arms, another article of clothing making its way to the floor. He helps with tugging off my dress, my feet slipping out of the heels, my body now only clad in a pair of my black, skimpy lingerie.

I struggle to keep my hands to myself as the raging desire to feel every inch of his body infuriates me while he kicks off his shoes, my hands now vigorously drawing at his pants as we flounder our way towards the bed.

I decline against the fresh coverings, his body surging to hover over mine, the cloying sensation of his kisses weighting to the slender column of my neck hitches my breath in my throat.

The enraged desire and anticipation rise with every rich, sensational kiss his lips allow being caressed to my once cold and bitter body. My fingers tangle themselves within the silkiness of his short hair, the ends just beginning to curl.

My fingertips haven’t run through his hair in a long time, they almost misremembered the way it felt to have his smooth hair glide against each fingertip.

I am taken back as I feel the stroke of his tongue glide over my collarbone, his hands wandering my body like a map with no destination. I move my hands to release his soft hair from my grip, moving to feel every dip and curve his body has to offer, gliding over his abs like rocky mountains covered in dripping honey. My hands and eyes honouring the full power of his physique.

“I want you,” I feel him whisper swiftly against the edge of my skin, lifting his head slightly to allow the shade of his eyes to gleam into my own. I bite my lip, feeling the cold chain of his necklace tapping my warm skin, all thoughts becoming superfluous but one.

I nod, not managing to mumble my words, instead, I wrap my leg around him, surging his body closer to mine, a deep primitive tug that signals that I want him. My mouth takes bold possession of his lips, my tongue exploring the texture of his, the feathery strokes of his tongue causing my hormones to percolate furiously, bouncing against the seams of my skin, humming through my veins, igniting a hunger that has been caged for so long. As we kiss with promises full of fulfilment, his delicate fingers begin to slide down the lacy underwear clasped to my body, my head twisting frantically as I kiss him deeper, ready for what’s to come.

He surges himself closer to me, his hard thighs crowning my hips, pressing me against his arousal. I haul in a breath, my body closing tightly around him as he enthrals me with his entry, an engulfing emotion hitching my breath, the slowly repeated motions bringing back memories that have felt so distant. I haven’t felt him this close to me in a long time — I have not felt him.

Heat and power radiate between our bodies, both of us working together to create a fulfilment of passion and love; the long, gradual, ride of delight silencing the deep hunger inside me. Wildness beginning to brew beneath the gentleness he surging. I relentlessly move my hips against his, my nails gliding against the skin of his back in the passion onslaught of his desire, denoting a reckless savage lust, unlike anything I had ever felt before. Our tongues dip and swirl in sweet motion, his strength throbbing inside me at a faster pace — transcending physical pleasure. An urgent need and want flow in a commanding way between us as I arch my back to better accept him.

The stirring of primal needs hits its towering peak, his groans becoming more powerful, my lips forcing themselves not to pull away from his kiss, my teeth wanting to bite into the skin around his shoulder, but I divert the frustration to my hands on his back.

Ripples of pleasure make itself distinguished, molten waves melting inside me, a keening sound escaping my lips as I throw back my head, my eyes narrowing to half-mast.

It was potent — he was damn potent.

His sweaty body falls beside me, nothing but our deep, heavy breath fills the silence around us, my legs quivery and moist, his chest rising rapidly as he gazes up at the hotel ceiling.

“Fuck, that was great.” He breaks the silence, reading my own thoughts, it was not great, it was fucking euphoric. “I love you,” He breathes with a short breath, tilting his head to look at me.

The narcotic power of his deep voice draws a smile from my honey tasting lips, tampering with my sanity again.

“I love you,” the words effortlessly slip from my lips, “Please, don’t leave me.”

my thoughts escape through words, a craving that was fulfilled now revealing a vulnerability that I am not sure whether I want to be exposed.

I feel his hand reach over and press softly over mine, “I’m right here, Em. I’m not going anywhere.”

His husky voice sends shivers down my spine, my body moving closer to his, my mouth skimming the edge of his lips, allowing him to take control of rained, silky, kisses.

[pinebypine]

Court Date

Triplet AU Fic. The trips are invited to a party in the Court of Summer.

They were in private room, in a palace, in freaking fairy land. How awesome was that? Mabel pulled off her heels and dropped bodily on the bed, head spinning. That had been a night. She wasn’t even sure she’d processed it enough to describe it; she couldn’t remember half what happend properly. Had she really danced with that ogre? Had she, Dipper, and Ty really forced their way on stage and played a set in front of the entire Summer Court? It seemed unbelievable.

She turned her head and saw Dipper sitting ramrod straight in a finely carved chair. How had they convinced him into that getup? He looked fantastic, of course, but whenever she and Ty had tried to get him into something even slightly girly he’d shut them down with a vengeance. Then she cursed herself a little as recollection hit her; they’d bargained away the Summerween costumes she’d been planning. Mabel sighed, she already had all the fabric for those Powerpuff dresses and now it would all go to waste.

Ty glided into the room and over to her brother. Mabel smiled as she watched her sister put a couple of fingertips under her brothers chin and lift until his face was upturned toward her. She leaned down and took a long look into his eyes. “Thanks, Dip, for putting up with all this tonight. You were fantastic.”

Pink glossed lips pressed delicately against pink glossed lips but held there for a long time.  Even from across the room, Mabel could see her brother’s ears starting to turn red. As they parted, Mabel stuck both thumbs up as high as she could without rising from the bed.

“Yeah, you go, Dipstick. It takes a real man to look so good in a dress.”

Ty smiled at her and gracefully slipped onto Dipper’s lap. “People seemed to like the triplet thing. I kept getting compliments all night.”

“And they keep sending over drinks!” Mabel let her arms fall heavily out beside her. “What was that ones with the marshmallows floating in it called again? I need to learn how to make that.”

Dipper pulled a face. “Ugh, you liked that one? It tasted like a unicorn’s asshole.”

“You, sir Dippinsauce, have the worst palette of anybody I know.” Mabel hauled herself upright and stuck her tongue out at him. She then noticed how Ty’s fingers were running idly along the hairline of her brother’s neck and readjusted her expectations for the evening. She’d figured they would all to be too pooped, but she could read her sister enough to know when she was in the mood. Her heart pumped a little faster; this was a pleasant surprise.

Ty caught her eye and one thin eyebrow arched back at her. They’d always been good at the whole silent communication thing, better than either of them were with Dipper, and it wasn’t hard for Mabel to get across that if Ty was looking for some sexy times, Mabel was happy to oblige.

“Well, I suppose you’ve been paraded around enough for one night, Dipper.” Ty planted a quick kiss on his namesake birthmark before rising from his lap. “We won’t blame you if you want to get changed.”

A hand caught her wrist as she started toward the bed. She turned back toward him. Dipper was only a bit taller than his sisters at the best of times and in his bare feet, with Ty still in her partying heels, he had to go on tip-toe to kiss her. Mabel pushed herself up from the pillowy mattress and made her slightly tottering way over to them. She slipped under an arm and put her own around their waists, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. After a moment she felt lips pressed against her cheek and she turned her head, her mouth suddenly caught up up in a full passion Dipper kiss. She smiled into it; they were wearing the same shade of lip gloss but she hadn’t known his was vanilla flavored.

“Not that I want to ruin the mood or anything.” Ty said shyly as her siblings’ lips parted. “But I wasn’t expecting you to be so excited, bro.”

Mabel’s head still swam; she shook it sharply to try and clear it a little. “Yeah, what’s the deal, Dipstuff? I’d have thought you’d be fuming after a night all dolled up.”

He stepped back from them, fingers twiddling before him. He chewed a lip.

Mabel looked up at Ty and exchanged a concerned expression. Ty took a breath and then her brother’s hand in hers. “You’ll feel better if you talk about it, Dipper. You know we’ll love you no matter what.”

Mabel sidled over to him and slipped her arm around his waist again, giving him a squeeze.

Dipper glanced from one sister to the other and told them.

*****

Hob had kept an imperious eye on Dipper through the whole process of making him over. The tall slender elf had introduced himself under the pretense that he’d been ordered by the queen to assist them through the social mores of the Summer Court. Dipper had distrusted him from the moment he laid eyes on him. There was something in his haughty, effete air that irked Dipper. That long perfect hair and self-assured, overtly sexual manner, seemed designed to push the young man’s buttons.

He’d almost immediately regretted allowing himself to be cajoled and bargained into accepting the elf’s guidance in preparing for their time among the fae. Their attendants hadn’t let him keep a scrap of clothing. Finding himself bereft of covering and surrounded by strangers was uncomfortable enough but none of them seemed the least bit polite enough to even pretend they weren’t looking him over thoroughly.

Dipper knew he wasn’t a big guy; the image in the mirror was as plain to see for him as anybody else. Despite watching all of his friends sprout up like weeds and get broad shoulders and five o’clock shadows, he’d never seemed to get past his awkward small frame and noodly arm phase. Normally he felt comfortable enough in baggy pants and hoodies, but standing bare assed in a cold room full of strange people with very judgemental expressions was sending his self esteem to the pits.

The whole pre-dressing process had been physically uncomfortable, as if the psychological torture wasn’t enough. By the end of it he’d been left feeling that every inch of him had been poked and prodded as well as vaguely worried about exactly how badly regrowing all that body hair was going to itch. He felt pink and raw and about as insecure as he ever had.

Then, in the reflection of the the full length mirror, he’d caught Hob looking at him. It had been a momentary lapse in the man’s haughty air, but Dipper had seen actual appreciation on the elf’s face as he tucked a platinum blonde strand of hair behind one ear. Dipper had found his insides knotted up into a twisting mass instantly at that; blood pounded in his ears. He felt himself instinctively move to cover the more sensitive bits of his body but before he’d even twitched in that direction, he was being whisked into another room to be dressed.

The rest of the process had at least been in the comforting presence of his sisters. He could keep his attention off the glances and stares of those around him and keep his mind on Ty and Mabel, who even half done up looked stunning. Thus distracted, he had allowed himself to be primped, painted, and stuffed into a dress. When presented at the finish before a mirror, he’d been stunned at the result.

It was easy to imagine the figure before him was Ty or Mabel, or some fictional Pines quadruplet, and when he did it was impossible not to admit that that person was really pretty, sexy even. Goddamnit, why’d he have to have such shitty luck? He felt like he’d been given a fortune in Deutsche Marks, Albanian Leks, or prize tickets for a carnival that had burned down. He had sighed and tried to regain his composure; it wasn’t like this had to mean anything and at least now he’d gotten out of being paraded around like this in front of people he actually knew.

*****

“Aw Dip,” Mabel squeezed her brother’s bare shoulders and gently rested her head against his, “if you were so uncomfortable you should’ve said something. We could have backed of trying to convince you.”

Ty handed him a mug of coffee and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. Dipper took a deep breath and felt the heat from it soaking into his hands. “I don’t know. This isn’t something I think I’d do normally, but I don’t think it should bother me so much. I’ve just got this voice in my head all the time telling me just how much I don’t measure up as a man.

“There’s this idea I thought I’d grow up into some day, tall dude, strong, maybe a beard. It was easy when we were younger to think it’d still happen but we’re nearly eighteen now and I’m still just this scrawny kid. I see the way girls look at other guys or the way guys look at hot girls; heck I know I’m probably the worst about that. Nobody looks at me like that, like they like what they see.” He stared into the murky darkness of his coffee cup. “Well, except you two and then everybody tonight.”

Ty’s lips tightened a little and she put a hand on Dipper’s knee. “So let me guess: all the attention you were getting felt good? Made you feel sexy?”

Dipper nodded. “It just sucks to find out I gotta do something so weird to be attractive.”

She took a deep breath.“Wow, bro. Do you ever have a big ass bind spot.”

Dipper’s head snapped up and he shot her a glare. “What?”

Ty turned to her other sibling. “Mabes, you’re the gossipy trip; how many girls back at school have confessed they have crushes on our sweet little brother here?”

Mabel stared at a point on the ceiling at she totalled the number in her head. “Last I heard, like twenty-five or thirty.”

Dipper’s jaw dropped. “Since when?”

“Since you became a total cutie.” Ty bumped him lightly with her shoulder. “Not everybody is looking for a meathead with hairy shoulders. Face it, bro; you’re sexy in street clothes too.”

“But nobody ever...” He stammered. “Nobody has ever said anything to me?”

Ty and Mabel avoided his gaze for a moment. Mabel broke first. “We may have been doing our best to beat the competition off with a stick.” She saw the look of shock on Dipper’s face and winced a little. “Well, rumors more than actual sticks.”

“Rumors.” He said flatly.

Ty looked sheepish and began to count off on her fingers. “Canadian girlfriend, has an STD, bedroom full of statues of anime girls, secretly racist. We even tried saying we thought you were gay but that one backfired.”

Mabel buried her face in her hands. “Turns out so is like half the school swim team. There was apparently a big fight in the locker room over who had dibs.”

Dipper took a swig of coffee and furrowed his brow. “That does explain why Brian and Dave spent about two weeks last semester trying to get me to join.” He straightened and glanced reproachfully looked from sister to sister. “And you two have been telling everyone I have an STD?”

Ty held a level gaze at him. “And what did you tell Trung Nguyen after he offhandedly told you he was going to invite Mabel to junior prom?”

Dipper deflated and fell silent.

Mabel gasped. “Wait, Trung was going to ask me to…” She turned to Ty. “What did he tell him?”

Dipper screwed up his face in shame. “That you stuck a finger up a guys ass without warning while you were going down on him.”

Mabel leapt to her feet, nearly vibrating with fury. “We’ll see if I do that for you anytime soon!”

“Mabel,” Ty grasped her hand, “we told half the school we caught him trying orally pleasure himself. I think we’re all the bad guys here.”

Dipper flopped back onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling. “What a mess. I thought we all agreed not to get jealous of each other.”

‘Easier said than done.” Mabel sat back down.

“As if this night wasn’t confusing enough; I have to rethink every interaction I’ve had with a girl since like ever.”

“Some of the guys, too.” Ty reminded him and Dipper winced.

*****

Dipper screwed up his nose in disgust. “This tastes like a unicorn’s asshole.”

The server who’d handed Dipper the drink made a small huffing noise and turned his nose up. A few feet away, Hob swiveled away from his conversation with Ty and the Queen and gave Dipper a look the younger one couldn’t discern.

“Can’t find something you like?”

Dipper handed the conical glass to Mabel and suddenly felt an urge to straighten his skirts. “I just haven’t figured it out yet.”

Hob smiled a rakish smile. “If you’re just going to try things at random off the menu, the night will be over before you find your drink of choice.” He pushed himself off the cushion and covered the distance between them in a couple of long strides. “But lucky for you an expert just happens to be right here.” He settled on the couch near Dipper, giving Mabel a soft nod of acknowledgement as he did before turning back to the boy.

Dipper didn’t like the look Hob was giving him, or didn’t want to like the look; it was infuriatingly hard to tell. “Thanks, but I’ll keep to my method.”

“While it might be a certain type of fun for someone to watch you make faces all night, I’d really prefer to avoid that particular show. Tell you what, I’ll make you a wager. I’m quite certain that if you just answer fives questions I ask truthfully, I can find a beverage you’ll adore. You answer, I order, and if you don’t like what I pick, you win.”

“Win what?”

“I’m not a genie but I’m not without gifts. Make an request.”

Dipper learned forward and narrowed his eyes at the elf. “I want the answer to a mystery.”

Hob’s light eyes brightened and his face flashed with delight. “Oh secrets, one of the best prizes. For mine, I want one favor.”

“Do I get to know this favor ahead of time?”

“Do I get to know what your mystery is ahead of time?”

Dipper chewed a lip for a moment, then offered his hand. Hob took hold and bowed over it. For a terrifying moment, Dipper thought the elf was going to kiss his hand, but instead he cast his blonde head back in a raucous laugh.

“The challenge is afoot!” He release Dipper’s hand and clapped his own together, rubbing them in a preparatory gesture, and licking his lips. “Now then, for my questions.  I will remind you that you must answer truthfully. There’s magic enough in this place to know when someone tries to cheat a wager and I would not recommend trying.”

Dipper caught Mabel’s eye. She been watching this exchange silently, plucking marshmallow garnishes from her glass and popping them into her mouth. He turned back to Hob. “Fire away.”

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Black. Fresh ground. Light roast.”

“Favorite meal?”

“Chinese barbequed pork.”

“How many glasses of water do you drink a day?”

“Uh, not enough, probably.” He shrugged.

“Spring or autumn?

“Autumn.”

“Preferred activity for a rainy afternoon?”

Dipper opened his mouth and froze, remembering Hob’s warning. He could a blush forming at his cheeks. He looked to Mabel, who was trying to hide a case of the giggles behind a hand. He felt panic stir a little in his chest and fixed his gaze back on Hob. The tall man glanced laconically at Dipper’s sister and then back to Dipper. “If you would prefer to answer any of my questions privately, I would be happy to let you whisper them in my ear.”

The youngest Pines triplet leaned over cautiously. Hob’s smile smoldered and he shot a wink at Mabel as her brother whispered to him. When the boy pulled away, he fixed him with a steady gaze. “I must admit, Master Pines, that does sound like a lovely way to spend an afternoon.”

“How on earth does that tell you what I’d like to drink?”

“Strictly speaking, it doesn’t. I only really needed a couple of those and a rest were just me being curious. Server!” He signalled one of the spritely attendants who swam through the party like salmon carrying trays.

“Yes, Sir Hob.”

Hob pointed at Dipper. “Bring this young man a pint of The Queen’s Oak Aged Reserve.”

The server hesitated. “Sir, that is the reserve. I don’t believe we are…”

A regal hand shot up to cut him off and the queen made a reproachfully little waggle of her finger. The stricken server fled so quickly that Dipper had half expected him to leave a cloud of dust in his place. Mere moments later, a glass of beer the color of the sky that trailed a sunset was placed before Dipper. He considered it for a moment, it didn’t look much like any of the beer drunk at the parties he’d been to.

He tasted it.

It was ambrosia. It was perfect. It was the best thing Dipper had ever had in his mouth. He immediately began to wonder where it had been all his life and how he could secure a supply. Queen’s Reserve? That probably wasn’t something you could buy locally. Shit.

He frowned. “OK, that’s really good.”

Hob’s cool exterior shattered for a moment and he was on his feet, fist triumphantly thrust at the ceiling above them.

“I’ve still got it!”

Dipper took a long loving draught of his beer, set it down, and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “What’s your favor?”

Hob recomposed himself and looked down at Dipper, his face pleased. “Come along and I’ll show you. I’d rather this was kept private.”

*****

The gardens of the palace had been lit for the party, although very few of the guests were out to enjoy them. Dipper had shunned the arm Hob had offered him and walked a few paces to one side of the tall elf.  They passed under the candles that hung from the boughs of trees in silence, save for the clacking of Dipper’s heels on the flagstones. It was a pleasant night for a stroll, at least; one benefit of being in the Summer Queen’s domain meant that the air was agreeably warm.

They passed over a small footbridge still without a word between them. Dipper couldn’t take it anymore. “Look, we’re in private; are you going to tell me what I’ve got do or what?”

Hob looked at him out of the corner of an eye and arched one silvery brow at him. “If you’d asked five minutes ago, I’d have probably told you, but now we’re so close that I might as well just wait until we’re at our destination.”

“Does keeping me in the dark just amuse you?”

Hob smiled. “It does, as a matter of fact. I love to see surprise on a pretty face.”

Dipper felt his breath catch a little, then forced himself to ignore it. “You can be a real ass, Hob.”

“Sir Hob.” The elf corrected him, seemingly without malice. “I may not have sought my peerage in her majesty’s court and all its dreadful responsibilities but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to enjoy the perks.”

“Peerage?”

“Her majesty managed to rope me into a baronetcy some time ago, which made me a vassal of her court and ended my time as a free agent. Dreadfully boring. This place has its virtues and, far more appealing, its vices, but having to spend half the year embroiled in its affairs tires me so.”

“And you’re free for the rest of your time?” Dipper couldn’t stop himself from asking. Stupid instinct to dig deeper.

“I have other obligations then, but they are more pleasant. Speaking of more pleasant, here we are.” They came upon a pergola, hung with yellow lanterns. A small figure rose from a bench as they approached, hands clasped demurely in before them, wearing a long dress and a ruddy maroon scarf over cascades of black hair.

Hob’s stride quickened and in a moment he was upon the smaller fae. He grasped the other’s hands, leaned down, and planted a kiss on crimson upturned lips. When he was finished, he smiled in a way Dipper had not yet seen. He whispered. “Hey there, Red.”

“Hob,” the words came breathlessly, “didn’t take you long to get handsy.”

Dipper glanced down and realized that one of the elf’s slender hands had slid to the front of the dress and wrapped gently something that bulged under the fabric. “Just checking that you’re happy to see me, babe.”

“That’s always your excuse.” Red’s eyes turned from Hob to Dipper; he startled and put a hand to his mouth. “Sparks and splinters! You brought a mortal!”

“It’s near enough time and the opportunity presented itself.”

“Very noble of you.” Red smiled.

“OK,” Dipper clenched his jaw to keep the nerves out of his voice, “what the hell am I here for?”

Hob flashed with cool self-assurance. “My friend here needs some of your blood. Not too much, less than a pint. Shant take but a minute. Won’t hurt a bit.”

Dipper stepped back. “What?”

“That is the favor I won from you, Dipper Pines.”

Dipper’s mind raced to the research he’d done before he’d agreed to come here. “I’m a guest of the queen; you’re not allowed to harm me.”

“Indeed, I cannot take anything from you by force, but you entered into wager that I fairly won. I am allowed to extract my prize.”

Dipper forced himself to breathe. “Less than a pint? What are you going to do with it?”

“Red is going to soak his scarf in it.” Hob sighed. “Which needs to happen one way or another and this way is the best option. It’s not-” his mouth tightened into a line, “-messy.”

Dipper squared his jaw and forced himself to stand his ground. He took a deep breath. “A deal’s a deal, I guess.” He held out an arm. “Take it.”

Hob took Dipper’s hand in his. “Come over here and sit down.”

He led the young man over to the bench under the pergola and guided him to sit. The whole process took surprisingly little time. Dipper held his arm over the scarf, stretched tightly between Red’s hands, and Hob opened a superficial vein with a small knife. As the blood splashed on the cloth, it disappeared into it. With each drop the dark red, almost brown, color of the scarf deepened and brightened until, after some time, it was a brilliant scarlet. A bandage was pressed to the wound on Dipper’s wrist.

He felt a bit lightheaded and noted not to mix booze and bloodletting in the future. He leaned against the post that supported the pergola and watched as Red tied the vibrant cloth back into place, grinning widely.

Dipper hadn’t meant to close his eyes. He startled back to attention when his head rolled to one side and he began to lose his balance. He goggled at the sight before him. Hob had Red pressed up against another post, kissing him deeply. One slender hand tangled in raven curls and the other was at work down beneath the hiked hem of the dress. Dipper swallowed dryly; he might have been out a quite a while if the white mess across the smaller fae’s nose and cheek indicated what Dipper could only assume it did.

He fled the scene.

He stopped at the footbridge to pull of his shoes and catch his breath, to calm down, before rejoining the party.

*****

Ty considered the dilemma before her. On one hand, they were only a few minutes from having the air in their room heat with angry voices ;so it probably was a good idea to let everyone cool off a bit. On the other hand, Ty’s siblings were still looking so good and the itch that had been building all night still hadn’t been scratched. In the end, she elected that ‘no secrets’ won over everything else.

“Dipper, I think I would be remiss if I failed to tell you that you’re tenting your dress.”

Her brother shot upright on the bed and she saw his hands jerk to cover himself, then they stopped midway and he more carefully placed them on his knees. He chuckled nervously. “Sorry, is that inappropriate?”

Ty and Mabel locked eyes for the briefest moment.

“Only if you’re just showing off and aren’t gonna share.” Mabel chided.

He looked off to one side, feigning reluctance. “Well, maybe I can be convinced. It has been a while since anybody around here got a Triple-Double-Trouble.”

Ty rolled her eyes. She liked the TDT but it was a two on one sort of thing; to make matters worse, only one of the triplets had the right equipment to receive it. She let out a small sigh. “I suppose it has been a while. Mabes, do you want position one or position two.”

She watched as Dipper rose before answer came and went to Mabel’s purse. He moved with purpose, obviously knowing exactly what he’d find there. A small silvery amulet glittered in the light of their room and Dipper looked from one sister to another, a slightly sheepish expression on his face. “If you’ll be a little patient with a beginner, I’ll take position two.”