#a knee ways more bb au art i promise the next bb au art will be lighthearted

[cherrirui-official]

"You know... You didn't have to take that with you."

"But I promised him I'd take him out to see the ocean one day."

[primasveraas-writing]

Finnpoe Modern AU- Single Dad!Poe- PART 3

AHH here it is!! I’m really happy with how it turned out; thank you again to the darling Eliane who sparked the orginal idea. The brunt of the story is done, but I hope (and suspect) that I will be returning to this AU soon, in the form of more headcanons or one shots.

I hope you enjoy! All requests are currently open.

Part One l Part Two l Part Three

XXX

Poe buys Finn a drink

...then Finn buys Poe a drink, then Poe buys them both drinks because Finn is on a teacher’s salary and the only gay bar within a reasonable distance gets away with overpriced beer

Poe learns rather quickly that Finn is more than just an incredibly attractive teacher who’s good with his son- Finn is also shy, and humble. Kind and honest. Slightly giggly when tipsy and rather close in proximity after 3 beers

There comes a point when Poe’s chest aches from laughing and he almost puts his hand on Finn’s knee- he almost leans in- then he remembers himself

Buying his son’s teacher a beer is fine- he likes Finn and so does BB

Kissing his son’s teacher is an entirely separate matter

Poe clears his throat abruptly, and he can feel the heat rushing to his already-warm cheeks as he straightens, pulling away from the other man

Finn pulls back too, a split second of hurt flashing across his face

“I’m sorry,” Poe says thickly, wondering how quickly he can flee the scene without seeming like a total ass, and Finn shakes his head

“Don’t worry about it,” Finn says, unable to fully meet Poe’s eyes. “I should probably get back to Rey, anyways”

Finn stands, and Poe blurts out “it was good to talk with you-” before he can think any of it through

Finn stops, turning back to look at him. He smiles, briefly, then says: “it was”

Poe is still sitting at the bar when Rey and Finn leave

Poe pretends he’s not watching them go

The upside to the next day is that his hangover is very mild, and that BB waits until 7am to wake him up instead of jumping into Poe’s bed at his usual 6am

Small blessings, even on a Saturday

They have a good day, and Poe is able to bury all his worries and regrets about Finn until BB does his homework

(he has to color in a hand turkey and he and Poe are both covered in glitter and ink by the end of it)

But the craft is enough for BB to start talking about school, which he does, pieces of glitter falling to the floor one by one as he signs

We do lots of art in Luke’s class and Finn helps me. He is nice and he brings in candy sometimes. He never rushes me or worries like Mr. C does and he is learning ASL very fast and sometimes he lets us stay out for recess for an extra three minutes and he will push us on the tire swing-

So Poe adds to his list of the way he can describe Finn- adored by his son. Generous. A total sucker for cute kids. Endlessly patient, a quick learner, a sweet tooth… off-limits.

What does he know about Finn, from a few hours of talking and stories from his son? Is it enough to justify his pining?

It doesn’t matter, in the end. At best, he and Finn are friends, and Poe has only BB’s best interests in mind- everything else is secondary to his son

The guilt and ache fade, for the most part. He sees Finn here and there, and the two men keep it friendly and brief

At parent-teacher conferences, Finn barely looks at Poe

It stings in the fall, but even that wound has healed when spring comes. Finn is still removed, a little less open, but he manages a small smile when Poe catches his gaze during the last conference that year

Summer arrives, and Poe has almost stopped dreaming of kissing Finn entirely

There’s a small celebration to celebrate the end of the school year, hosted by one of the PTA moms

BB takes off with some of the kids immediately, leaving Poe to his own devices

He’s half-heartedly participating in a discussion about gluten-free sugar cookies with some of the parents while watching BB chase his friends around the yard

He feels a light touch on his arm and turns to see Finn standing there, smiling

“I wanted to tell you what a delight it was to teach BB this year,” Finn says, “and that I’m sorry I won’t have longer with him.”

Poe starts, brow furrowing in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I’m teaching preschool next year,” Finn says, looking down at his feet before glancing up at Poe again. “I originally applied to work with younger kids, but they didn’t have an opening until next fall.”

“So you’re not teaching BB anymore?” Finn shakes his head. “He’ll be devastated.”

Finn frowns, sadness filling his eyes, but Poe nudges him with his elbow, grinning softly

“I’m happy for you Finn, really. BB loved working with you.”

“I loved it too.” Finn is quiet, serious, and his voice falters before Finn goes silent. He blinks rapidly, and Poe realizes just how much Finn cares about his students

“We’ll have to have you over for dinner. To thank you.”

Finn’s eyes widen, wetness replaced with a brilliant spark. His mouth opens, then there’s the unmistakable sound of children colliding, a solid thud followed by squeals, giggles, and shouts

Poe sighs, looking around for BB, despite knowing in his heart of hearts that BB is almost always involved in whatever shenanigans are happening

“I should go.” Poe rests his hand on Finn’s arm. “We’ll work out a date later,” he says, winking before he turns around to chase after his son

When the time comes, BB is excited as Poe is nervous- he insists on helping with the cooking, which slows things significantly, if only because Poe has to sign each recipe and he runs circles around the small kitchen hovering over his son

BB has little regard for things like measurements or cation around a hot stove- about halfway through cooking the pasta needed for an old family recipe, BB tries to grab a noodle out of the boiling pot

Poe pulls his hand back just in time, rambling warnings and curses in Spanish and signing his worries and reliefs rapidly in ASL

BB stares up at him innocently, and Poe melts

He also puts his son on his back, so Poe finishes the cooking with a seven-year-old pointing where to go and what to do

They both have to squeeze in a shower before Finn arrives, as they’re each covered in sweat and sauce and flour

(Poe finds a bit of salsa behind BB’s ear as he towels his son off, and he sighs)

Poe is dressing when the door rings. First, he hears BB tearing down the hall, his feet thundering, then the door opening- Poe follows his son, finishing the last buttons on his shirt, then Finn is in his living room, BB tugging on his hand to bring Finn into the apartment

“Hi,” Finn says, kneeling down to hug BB

“Hi,” Poe says, and his heart flutters like it did a year ago, when he saw Finn for the very first time

It progresses from there because BB loves Finn, and Poe believes in love at first sight, even if he can’t admit it yet

(He loves Finn too)

Dinners with Luke, Leia, and Finn resume, in addition to meals whenever BB demands that Finn eat with them

(It’s been too long, Dad, BB will say. You and Finn are lonely without each other)

Poe doesn’t know how much he can disagree with his son, partly because BB is largely right, and partly because BB has Poe wrapped around his finger

Even so, it’s nearly a month before Poe asks Finn out properly, with no children or bosses to accompany them

Finn accepts in an instant

Dating Finn is nice- for one, he fits into Poe’s life easily- but he also validates the months Poe spent dreaming of the impossible scenario where he and Finn could finally be together, because dating Finn is better than Poe ever imagined

Finn is funny, more sarcastic than Poe had realized, direct and curious and teasing. Deeply loving and loyal and defensive and stubborn, and also a good kisser, with perpetually warm hands that always find their way into Poe’s grip

That summer is glorious, and none of them- Poe, nor BB, nor Finn- want it to end. It is the beginning of all wonderful things

Poe accepts quickly but with relative uncertainty, that Finn will be Poe’s boyfriend long before he will become one of BB’s caretakers

Finn is good with BB- he speaks ASL and understands his son better than most, and Poe is forever grateful he never had to navigate a wide dating pool as a single father, mostly because he’s certain there’s very, very few people worth bringing home to BB

Even with adjustment periods and the time it takes to figure out how exactly Finn fits into their lives, BB is wildly fond of Finn, who spoils him and makes him laugh

You smile lots when Finn is around BB says one day

Is that good? Poe signs back. Do you like when Finn is around?

Finn makes me happy BB says, and Poe knows that’s all that ever matters

November comes with an with the first snow; BB complains that he misses seeing Finn at school, but he sees Finn every weekend and most weekdays, so he’s satisfied, even if Mr. C is stuffy and old, but nice I guess

They are comfortable together- things are calm, settled into the new school year- and Poe figures he knows what to expect from life with a hyperactive seven year old and a boyfriend he’s hopelessly in love with

What’s unexpected, however, is the call he gets at 3am on a Friday night- or rather, the 6 missed calls, and the one that Poe finally picks up, his heart pounding wildly when he sees Finn’s name on the screen

He hit a pole, Finn explains, because he swerved to avoid hitting a cat

“I’m fine, honestly, Poe, the airbags went off and I was wearing my seatbelt and most of the damage is on the passenger side-”

Finn is fine, he promises, but his car is damaged fairly badly and also Finn rescued the cat, who is also fine, and they have no way to get home

So, Poe wraps BB in a blanket and carries him out to the car, and together they pick up Finn off the street in the dead of night

In five months of dating, it’s the first time Finn spends the night at Poe’s apartment with BB there

Finn sleeps on the couch, next to the makeshift nest of blankets where the kitten finally falls asleep

BB spends his Saturday writing a list of names for the kitten, who is entrusted to his care (and Poe’s) while Finn makes endless calls to a towing company and his insurance, and the bank and the local vet

Finn spends the next night, too, because he doesn’t want to move the cat, who is young and probably scared, and very attached to Poe and BB already

On Sunday, Finn goes to the vet to see if the cat is missing or chipped, and Finn leaves with a purring kitten that belongs only to him

BB is then allowed to name the cat officially; he becomes D-O, much to Finn’s amusment and Poe’s exasperation

(BB doesn’t deign to explain this decision, and Poe cannot bring himself to ask BB why this name was chosen more than ten times)

By then, they’ve also agreed that Finn will stay with BB and Poe until Finn’s car is fixed, so Poe can drive Finn to work, and so that D-O can stay with BB a little longer

Finn sleeps on the couch Sunday night, but BB sneaks out of bed to cuddle with the cat, and Poe finds them Monday morning, BB curled in Finn’s arms, D-O snuggled at their feet

Poe takes a picture before rousing them for school, and the picture is first the background on his phone, then printed and framed on the wall of their first home together

A smaller copy is  slipped into his wallet, too, so that the three of them are with him, always

BB cries at the end of the week, when Finn has his car again, and he and D-O are ready to go home

(By Christmas, Poe has given Finn a key to the apartment, and by Feburary, they’re looking for a place to share together)

When BB turns eight, the three (four) of them move into the apartment that becomes their first home as a family, and it marks another beginning for them all

When BB turns ten, his father gets married, and he with his grandfather walk Poe down the aisle

Poe and BB are a family. This  fact was slow and learned, but absolute all the same and Finn, still gradually, but just as certainly, becomes their family too

[kpopchangedme]

L’Opéra: Think of Me [Part II]

Jinyoung is the new benefactor of the Opera; your lost love, the one you promised yourself to when you were only fifteen.  How can you face him again, after renouncing to his everything years ago?

Moodboard by yours truly

Protagonists: A stuttering Park Jinyoung - You - Im Jaebum

Genre: SFW - Romance - Drama - Love Triangle - Childhood Friends - 1890s!AU

Words: 6k

Snippet: “There needs to be a flaw, a tiny blemish, to make you appreciate a perfect piece. Jinyoung is like that to you; a work of art rendered perfect by his tiniest imperfection.”

Lyz’ note: This new chapter is mainly for Jinyoung and y/n, torn between past and present… Poor Jaebum has to listen to all this through the walls. Sorry babe, you’ll get the third chapter!

L’Opéra [Mini Masterlist]

 Ethereal.

That’s you, really you. Jinyoung watches you roam the stage, in trance. He can’t believe you’re here after all these years, in front of him. You were right earlier, Jinyoung is still a child. He’d wish to be more mature, facing you again, but he’s the same. Your simple presence is intoxicating. He panicked. He wanted to be controlled, but he was spiteful. He regrets it, but he was never over losing you.

It’s infuriating to find out that he’s still hopelessly yours, even after all this time.

His eyes follow your movements; he listens to your voice. You are marvellous, so talented he can’t believe that until yesterday, you were just a simple dancer. How is it even possible? Even as a child, you excelled at singing. You both used to spend summer afternoons harmonizing together with the sound of your father’s violin. Now it’s been years since Jinyoung last sang. He found another way to cope with his disorder, his disability, like his family used to call it. Perhaps, in the end, Jinyoung’s only illness was his late father; he seems to be doing perfectly now that he’s gone. That is, well, until he met you again.

He felt it as soon as you talked back at him; that nervous discomfort. His speech abilities betraying him, just like his own heartbeat and his confidence falling. However, none of this matters now. Now you are here, within his reach and he finds himself ready to forgive all those years of darkness in a second. It doesn’t matter why you disappear after your father’s death after you promised.

Now he’ll be yours and you’ll be his, all over again. Jinyoung needs you more than his pride or titles; he’ll be shameless and needy, he doesn’t care. He simply won’t let you vanish another time.

___

Most children dream of getting home for the summer, but not him. To him, boarding school is a safe haven. He’d take on over 100 bullies if it meant he’d be away from home for a whole year. Summers are hot and heavy, even gloomier than the dark winters to Jinyoung.

That’s why he’s hiding, sitting on a rock under a big oak tree, a mile from his vacation home. He likes to come here, skip rocks on the lake, do nothing or read a book; be away from his father’s scrutiny. This lake is still on his family’s domain, most of the things in Jinyoung’s life belong to his last name; his hopes, dreams and future. None of it is his. Even at twelve, he knows that too well, he’s aware. It weighs on him like his white shirt, rendered heavy with humidity. He kicks a pebble and watches it roll on the lakeshore; boring, but funnier than being home.

That’s the moment he sees you for the first time; the last Sunday of May, 1886, around noon. You are running on the pebbles, freely, seemingly not caring if you sprain one of your ankles by falling. For the first time, the world stops turning for Jinyoung. Your hair is flying messily around your face, fighting the wind coming from the lake; you are breathtaking. A man is observing you from afar, he screams something and you go back to him. You don’t see the dark-haired boy around your age, stunned under the oak tree, don’t care for him. He, however, finds himself caring.

That summer won’t be like others; Jinyoung discovers that on that last Sunday of May.

The day after, he starts going back there with the only intent of seeing you again. Nobody has second thoughts when he asks about who’s living in the small cottage by the lake. They don’t care about his curious interest and they answer in hushed tones for him to stop. It makes people uncomfortable when Jinyoung speaks to them, that’s why he usually avoids it. He learns that you are the daughter of the musician his father favourites, enough to take him away from Paris for the summer. It’s weird because he already knew Monsieur Daae but he has never met you. You are motherless, his servants mutter that with judgment, apparently forgetting Jinyoung’s just the same. Except you are not like him; you seem happier, warmer.

The next day, he goes to that oak tree again and also the day after that.

He takes the habit of observing you in the afternoon; hiding under the trees on the outskirts of the woods, where they meet the pebbles and water. He discovers in delight that you often sit in the yard of the cottage when the weather is forgiving. You sit there to sing, draw or catch butterflies. On one of those afternoons, you surprise him when he’s not paying attention.

He’s resting at his usual spot, reading a book about adventure, but he raises his eyes, feeling watched.

That day, your hair is braided, resting on one of your shoulders and you tilt your head with curiosity as his eyes go wide of shock. He doesn’t know how long you’ve been there; observing him. You are sitting on the big rock he usually likes to sit on, knees pulled under your chin. Like that, you resemble the main mademoiselle in a feminine portrait painted by Édouard Manet. Forever frozen still, created solely to exist in this natural specific scenery. Jinyoung gulps, so nervous he can barely remember to breathe.

“Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea…” You wrinkle your nose pensively at the title of the book he’s holding. “That sounds scary!”

Jinyoung bites his cheek, watching you blink, awaiting an answer that could never come. He wishes he could give you one, but you’d be uncomfortable and he’s too scared. Jinyoung is a coward.

“You are the young master.” You state it like you don’t care at all like it’s the most boring thing you could ever say. He feels his heart rate accelerates, just as the first time he saw you play, a few days ago. “You don’t want to talk to me…” Saying this you look away briefly, in direction of your cottage and Jinyoung’s heart sinks. You’re going to go, you’re going to leave and never address him again, because of his family name and rank. Because he can’t speak. “It’s alright, I don’t care. This is so boring here, I’m all alone. I’m going to talk to you anyway…” You sigh, throwing your head back to look at the clouds. “You can ignore me if that’s what you want. My help does it all the time… I can talk to myself for hours...”

Jinyoung shakes his head and you frown.

“Are you a mute then?” You pout and he opens his mouth to deny it, but ends up lacking the will. “It’s strange… You don’t look like one.”

There’s a voiceless boy in his special classes and Jinyoung never found he looked any special. He could explain that to you but he won’t. It would be a very long and painful sentence.

“I’m y/n, my father is a violinist.” He nods; he knows that already. “I love music, what do you love, young master?” After a few seconds of waiting, you roll your eyes back and he drops his to the tips of his boots, scared you’ll leave if he doesn’t even attempt to reply.

“Bb-bb–bb-b” Jinyoung bites his lower lip out of frustration, but you clap your hands, excited by his laughable noises.

“So you talk!” You giggle happily, not at him. Jinyoung stares at you in awe. Nobody ever told him he could do that before; they usually understand very fast it’s quite the opposite. “You love… books?”

“Yes… Bb-books.” His voice is small, but a bit less strained; although he’d want to be louder. Today, he forgets to hate the sound of his stutter, because you laugh again and that… That is the single most agreeable and delicate sound he ever heard.

“What’s your name, young master?”

“JJ-Jinyoung” He hates his name.

“Nice to meet you, Jinyoung!” His eyebrows shoot up when you call him. Not stutter, retarded, not by his full title of nobility, by his simple name. He relaxes a bit. “What’s your book about?”

“Voyages extraordinaire of the Ca-C-Captain Nemo!” Jinyoung spurts out with excitement and you nod along, listening. “An underwater ad-d-d-dd-dventure–”

“Underwater?” You pause to think for a few seconds and he notes that you haven’t tried to finish his words for him, something he finds even more frustrating. “How? Can Captain Nemo breathe underwater?”

He shakes his head, happier than he’s been in a while. “He has a b-b-b-b-oat–” By habit, he hides his struggle with a fake cough, but you wait for him to go on, so he does: “A sub-b-bb–” He stops again with a frown, trying to come up with an easier word that you would understand. “Like a small house t-th-that goes un-un-n-under, it a-a-actually exists!” He shuts his eyes in irritation; he never thought talking could get any harder.

“Fantastic!” You clap your hands, ignoring his chagrin, acting like you haven’t noticed his speech disorder. “Then does this mean we could go on an underwater adventure, someday?” Or perhaps you simply don’t care for it, he inhales sharply.

“You an-nd I?” Jinyoung feels himself blushing harder, of embarrassment and something else entierly.

___

Everyone congratulates you as you walk backstage, but you only have a single wish: hiding. The performance was well received and you did great, but you don’t really feel like running into him again.

Of all the Vicomtes and nobles of Paris, of France; Jinyoung had to be the one. Why him? Sure, you know very well he always liked the arts, but what are the odds? Did his father put him up to this? Surely not, you respected your end of the bargain and disappeared, he wouldn’t throw Jinyoung after you. Not after five years of hiding and healing. The new mécène… Fine, if what Jinyoung said earlier is true; it’s a coincidence, the worst one.

When you finally reach your room, you let the wood of your door cool your burning forehead. Away from the applause, it will be easier to think. Something you lacked time for before going on stage.

“Are you ill? Are you feeling alright?”

You nearly fall when backing into the corner, tripping on the ballet shoes you abandoned on the floor yesterday. He rises to his feet as you trip, even though he’s on the other side of the room. He seems even paler, surreal and gorgeous than earlier, but it might just be the lesser amount of candles lighting in the room. What is he doing here?

“Jinyoung” You groan, clutching your heart. “You scared me!”

“You are very red.” Crossing the distance you put between you, he brings his hand to your burning forehead. His fingers feel like ice against your skin and you shiver at the contact.

“You shouldn’t be here!” You push his hand away, watching his face harden.

“Why?” He clenches his jaw, glaring at you. “Were you planning on hiding forever?” You look away, not wanting to know if he's asking about tonight or for the rest of your life.

“This is my room, Jinyoung… You are being very inappropriate.” Loosely, you gesture your tiny bed in a corner and he pales, even more, taking a step back to put a comfortable space between your bodies.

“You never used to care about social conventions.”

“Well, you weren’t the benefactor of the place where I live and work.”

___

Jaebum’s boiling. You basically insinuated the rich prick should leave and he didn’t budge. Even he knows that. He, who lives alone in between brick walls. He, whose only socialization was getting hit with a stick. Jaebum leans in closer to the one-way mirror, observing the scene in your room and wondering if there’s something he can do.

“Does it matter?” The Vicomte sighs like you’re most annoying to him. “Why should we care about what they think of us?” He takes a step towards you, but you get away, walking to the other side of the room. You stop in front of your mirror where Jaebum is hiding and he inhales sharply of relief at your proximity. He can easily intervene if the noble foozler tries something indecent.

“Leave, don’t tell your father you saw me.”

“W-what?” The man, who was walking closer, stops in his tracks.

“I don’t need the trouble!” Facing the glass, you hide your face in your hands, tired.

“D-dd-did he say something?” The asshole closes his eyes, bringing a clenched fist in front of his mouth. “Is this why you disap-pp-p–” He fakes a couch and Jaebum’s eyebrows shoot up. The conceit prick doesn’t know how to properly talk, that’s somewhat surprising. When you open your eyes, you look straight at Jaebum, although he knows you can’t see him. Your expression softens and you turn around to face the Vicomte.

“Do you want to sing it, Jinyoung?” Jaebum can only see your profile, but your lips curl upwards like you’re teasing the stranger and it’s his turn to frown in frustration.

“No.” The man bites his lips, perhaps out of nervousness. “Is it because of h-him? That you’re here?”

Jaebum is curious now, he wants to know too. Who is this man’s father, how does he know you and is this why… Why you came to him? He waits for a long moment with the Vicomte for your answer, but it never comes.

“Y/n–” The man reaches for your arms and you let him do it, let him pull you closer. “He’s gone now, haven’t you notice the title?” He leans in, way too close, and Jaebum narrows his eyes, angry. “I’m the Vicomte de Chagny; I do what I want, buy what I don’t need, love who I lov–”

“Must be real nice, Jinyoung.” You wiggle out of his arms and his face falls as you sit on the corner of your desk.

“No, it’s not. Not without you!” He throws his hands to the sides, gesturing to everything around you both. “Don’t you see what this is?”

“Your Opéra?” You ask bitterly and Jaebum hums, disapproving. Everything here should be considered his.

“Destiny? Fate?” You roll your eyes, but the Vicomte goes on, unbothered. “I didn’t know you were living here, but here we are! I found you and I’m not losing you again! Y/n you were amazing tonight! You were born to sing, you’ll be the star of my Opéra! My muse! My...”

This time Jaebum scowls out loud, not caring if any of you hear. You’ve been his muse for five years. This man cannot come in here and claim you!

“What, Jinyoung?” You cross your arms over your chest, although your eyes flutter to the mirror again.

“My… My–” The rich prick tilts his head, struggling. When he continues, his voice is nothing but a murmur. “We promised years ago…” Jaebum’s heart sinks. A promise. It’s not fair, he never stood a chance. Jaebum could promise you the moon, write a thousand symphonies in your name and you’d still choose this rich and handsome guy over him.

“We can’t. We were child–”

“The world is changing!” The man cuts you off, not letting you reject him. “Nobody cares about ranks now; this is almost the 20th century!”

“It’s not that–”

“We could run away, go to a colony… Africa?” He shrugs. “My uncle is the Gouverneur du Sénégal! If you say so if you ask me to, we’ll go! Away from these stuck up Parisians! I’ve already told you all that!”

Jaebum freezes. Leave? You can’t leave him. Even if this man belongs to your past, what gives him the right to come into your lives and tear you two apart? Why can that man suddenly talk again? Jaebum wishes for him to choke on his words, on that old promise, whatever it might be.

“Jinyoung, it’s not that, it’s not them!”

“What? Is…” He pauses, inhaling shortly. “Is there s-s-so-someone else?”

The time seems to stop in the tiny room and you bury your face in your hands, defeated. Jaebum wants to burst in there, push that shady aristocrat away from you, but he doesn’t. He watches with Jinyoung as you hide away the answer in your eyes; wait expectantly for you to tell the other he’s here, even if you don’t know that. Here with you all the time; your angel. He grimaces at the thought of the name you gave him, but you can’t leave him all alone. Not for a guy who already has everything, who was born with a golden spoon in his mouth. Jaebum can't be alone again.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

___

Three small knocks on the door, interrupt your confrontation with Jinyoung. You uncover your face, panicked. You know exactly what people will think if they find you alone with the new patron of the Opéra. In your room. You glare at the Vicomte in front of you, he has nothing to lose and he answers with an apologetic shrug. A woman only has her reputation, especially one with no money nor title, but it’s too late now.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me, chérie.” Madame Giry answers from behind the door and you sigh, relieved. “I am accompanied by Messieurs Firmin et André, may we come in? Are you decent, child?”

Jinyoung moves to your desk, as far away as possible from your bed and sits. When you open the door, M. Firmin storms in clapping excitedly.

“Une étoile est née!” He sing-songs, almost bouncing in the room. “Grandiose. Didn’t I tell you Gilles? Didn’t I tell you we should put our trust in Mademoiselle Daae?!” His business partner walks in, wincing at his blatant lie. He’s the first one to notice the aristocrat trying to sit naturally on your tiny wooden chair and he freezes.

“Ah–” M. André opens his mouth, gasping and looks around the room to see if someone else is standing there. Realizing you two were alone, he recovers swiftly, clearing his throat. “Félicitations Mademoiselle, I see you’ve met our new mécène.” Since he doesn’t want to insinuate anything shady, he adds: “We were looking for you everywhere, Vicomte.” Jinyoung tilts his head, doubtful. They probably diligently avoided him after losing his primadonna right before the representation. “Did you enjoy this… May I say so myself; perfect performance?”

“Very much Monsieur, I believe the main soprano made quite an impression as Hannibal’s first love, Elissa.” You bow shyly at Jinyoung’s compliment and meet Madame Giry’s scary glare. She’s clearly angry you let a man into your room. You mentally curse her daughter Meg; after all, she’s the one who brought him here in the first place.

“Oh! Let me introduce you! Mille excuses!” M. Firmin nods apologetically in her direction, wrongly interpreting her evident displeasure. “Vicomte, this is our precious Madame Giry, in charge of our famous corps de ballet!”

At that Jinyoung gets up to graciously bow to the middle-aged woman. “Enchanted, madame. I am the Vicomte de Changy, new mécène.”

“De Chagny?” She glances at you, her attitude completely shifting. She’s the one who took you in after your father’s death when you were only fifteen and broken. The first motherly figure you ever had; she knows.

“Yes.” Jinyoung lips tighten, apprehensive. “Were you acquainted with my late father?”

“Um– No, I’ve never had the chance of meeting him, my apologies sir.” As if to shield you, she puts a hand on your back, a gesture Jinyoung evidently doesn’t miss. “I believe we should let our main lady rest for the night, y/n had a lot to do in the last few days!” You look at her, grateful. You really want to be left alone right now.

“Oh that’s–” M. Firmin clears his throat, clearly hating to go against the woman’s words. “There was a little supper organized be–”

“Mademoiselle Daae and I are going out to eat.” Jinyoung offers a smug smile to his small audience. “We were discussing this very matter together.” Your jaw drops at that. He said a number of things when you were alone, but he never mentioned sharing a meal tonight. Jinyoung used to be a very bad liar, simply the worst; hesitations and nervousness rendering his speech incomprehensible.

“Alone?” M. André pauses, disapproving, and you hope he’ll prohibit it from happening, even though he has the authority and charisma of a trout. “Wouldn’t it be better if–”

“Gilles, quel rabat joie!” M. Firmin cuts him off. “Surely that’s not what Monsieur meant–”

“Yes. Alone.” Jinyoung seems to savour his control for a few seconds before turning to face you. “Mademoiselle, I’ll wait outside for you to change out of your costume…” He smirks, eyes playful, voluntarily ignoring the indignation his words are provoking. “There’s a charming and simple place near the Opéra, I think you will like it!”

“Pardo–”

He insists with an intended raised eyebrow, interrupting your protests. “We’ll continue our reminiscence of old times there.”

Although the room is full, nobody opposes him. You clench your teeth, holding back hurtful words. He’s behaving like the very people he despised; not taking “no” as an answer. But you’re not fifteen anymore and you know your place. Another Vicomte de Chagny made sure of that before him. There’s nothing more to say, so you keep your tongue to yourself.

“Old times?” M. André repeats, suddenly a bit warmer to the idea.

“Of course, we are already quite familiar; we used to spend our young summers together. Our families were close. We tragically lost touch and have a lot of catching up to do.” Jinyoung offers a sweet smile, but you turn away, wishing he wouldn’t publicly bring up your past friendship. There’s a collective sigh of relief in the room and just as you begin to fear what he might add next, he chuckles and goes on: “You see, Mademoiselle Daae is dear to me… Like Elissa is to Hannibal!”

“Oh! That’s marvellous!” M. Firmin claps his business partner’s shoulder, ecstatic. “Just like tonight’s representation then, a love story!”

You exchange a look with Madame Giry, defeated. A love story where Elissa ends up killing herself to avoid a forced wedding. Jinyoung offers you a perfectly warm smile as he opens the door to get out, but you only feel cold and dry.

___

“My hand?” You blink, stunned by Jinyoung’s question but decide to laugh it off. You hope the sound will hide your discomfort at the warmth his words spread in your body. “Why would you want it?” Jinyoung eyes widen, filled with sudden incertitude, but he should already know how you feel. Your question is clearly a lie, a teasing joke; told to cover the fact that you can’t answer his without changing your lives forever.

He hums before attempting to talk, closing his eyes for the battle. “I-I-I-I–” He grunts, when his larynx betrays him and the corners of your lips curl upward.

To you, his stutter is one of the things that make Jinyoung amazing.

There needs to be a flaw, a tiny blemish, to make you appreciate a perfect piece. This is something your father often says. Jinyoung is like that to you; a work of art rendered perfect by his tiniest imperfection.

You lean in against the big oak, observing his tormented expression and wondering if you should end his suffering. You wait a while longer because he hates when people steal his words, you know that. You know everything Jinyoung loves and everything he doesn’t.

“I’m just asking f-f-f-f-or–” He sighs in frustration. He hasn’t stutter that much in almost two years, it must be his nerves.

“Do you want to sing it?” You laugh lightly; it’s something that helps him when it won’t come out. Although, secretly, there’s nothing you love more than the sound of his singing voice. “Or play charades?” You lick your lips, watching his expression turn darker. He doesn’t get how much you love this sort of thing. It would be perfect for a love confession, you blush harder. “We used to do this, younger… When you didn’t want to speak…” Jinyoung frowns ever more and you bite the interior of your cheek to keep from smiling at his irritation. “You want my hand… For?”

Say it. Ask me.

Jinyoung stays desperately silent, perhaps he’s given up.

“Are you alright, Jinyoung-ie?” You ask a bit scared that your teasing made him change his mind. “It doesn’t matter you know–” But it does. “You can ask me tomorrow…” But he can’t.

“You know I’m leaving tomorrow.” When he finally talks again, it’s without halting and you smile, satisfied.

“See? It’s better now; you don’t have to be so nervous.”

Ask me. Tell me.

“We both are f-f-fi-fifteen, now–” You tilt your head to the side, unsure why he’s using a long sentence to mention your age. You both already are well aware you aren’t children anymore. “I want to tell you how I f-f-feel–”

Before he can continue, your maid yells your name from the cottage. You thought you’d have at least an hour more before she’d come looking for you after her afternoon nap. Without thinking twice, you grab Jinyoung’s hand and sink deeper into the woods. You run without intent and he follows, intertwining his fingers with yours. He probably doesn’t know why you must hide from Marie.

Before this summer, nobody ever asked you questions about your relationship with Jinyoung, but in June, this changed. Marie got curious, started to talk about how wholly inappropriate it was to see a man alone at your age, one with a name at that. At first, you brushed it off, ignored her, but she was right: Jinyoung turned into a man. You weren’t twelve anymore and if the time you used to spend together was innocent, this summer your cheeks were burning every time he looked at you. Every time he touched you, your skin went ablaze. After that, Marie started to question your outings, asking you where you’ve been and with whom. Then it turned worse, she’d yell, threatened you to tell his family about your idyll and say they’d send him away.

This summer, you learned you had something to lose. She’s still calling your name from afar when you stop running, turning around to face him in panic.

“We don’t have time, I’m sorry I teased you!” Jinyoung twitches as you release his hand and reach for the blue ribbon tying your hair in a tight bun.

It’s the one you lost your first summer together. The wind stole it when you were on one of your epic adventures on the lake and Jinyoung jumped from the rowboat to get it back. You didn’t know how to swim, so you kept yelling scared to death. He swam back just fine, holding the inexpensive fabric above his head like the most expensive trophies. He was clueless as to why you were so angry at him back then.

Jinyoung lips part slightly when he sees your flocks of hair fall around your face and if you weren’t already tomato red, you’d blush even more. This doesn’t feel like being alone with a friend, Jinyoung really is a man now. He reaches for a strand of your hair, but you catch his fingers before he can touch one.

“I’ll give you this.” You say those words so softly that he doesn’t react and you wonder if he heard them. He simply watches as you tie your hands together with your ribbon. The task proves to be harder than you thought with a single hand; no wonder people usually need a witness. Jinyoung clears his throat, embarrassed as he finally catches on what you are doing. Handfast; the betrothal of the pagans and the wanderers. Your heart beats even faster when you notice he’s turning red, blushing just like you.

“Jinyoung, I–” You pause to sigh and smile, wishing he’d say something, anything, or at least try. Isn’t he the one who wanted to do this? Isn’t the man supposed to confess? “I can’t give you much, but know that my heart is yours. It has been for years now, I love you… too.” He stays desperately silent so you have to go on: “Even when you are far, I only see you, I only think of you. Father and I, we’ll always be…” You push air out of your chest to say the rest of the sentence. Looking at your tied hands as a wedding promise for courage. “–obliged to your family…” It’s true, there’s no point denying it. His father’s protection is the reason your father could go to the Conservatoire de Paris. His family’s money is the only reason your father makes a living with his music.

“Don’t say that.” Jinyoung grimaces, wrinkling his nose. He hates when you bring it up. He often says that he would prefer being born poor rather than to have his title. It makes you laugh; Jinyoung doesn’t truly know what cold is, he doesn’t know hunger either. “I don’t want you to say it’s because of that.”

“I’m not.” You giggle; relieved he actually found his voice back. “But I also know who you are and where you stand. We’re not the same.”  You both know that, so you’re surprised when he clenches his jaw, angry.

“Do not talk like him!” He stops and lowers his voice, probably worried that Marie will find you two. She’d never come into the woods, you’re sure of that, but you let him get closer. You can almost feel the warmth coming from his body now and you shiver. The air is starting to cool these days, September is really near now and you’ll lose him for another 8 months.

“It doesn’t matter what they think. I promise we’ll be together; if you just say yes then we’ll be together.” Weren’t you the one who made the promise first? You smile since he doesn’t seem to realize that. “Hell, we can even run away together!” You both laugh when the unfamiliar curse leaves his mouth. “Nothing matters if you are with me, we can even leave the old country if you want to! If you wish, I’ll ask your father after boarding school, he likes me. I’ll find a way to convince mine! I’ll–”

“Jinyoung.” You interrupt his confession, the one you were dying to hear earlier, he’s almost breathless. Lungs neglected by the fervour of his words, spoken too fast, something very unusual of him.

“What?” He hesitates, scared of what you might say. Why is he so afraid, didn’t you already say you’ll be his?

“You haven’t stuttered in over a minute.” His eyes round with surprise and you smile, proud of him. Jinyoung beams, his tongue darts through his lips and they catch you attention.

Right here, hidden behind a tree, in the woods where you used to fight dragons together you start to wonder. Right now, you wonder what these lips might feel like pressed on yours; wonder if you would survive something as intense, so close yet so far. Jinyoung’s expression turns serious when you lean in and close your eyes, you can almost already taste his breath. He’s the one who crosses the last line, leaving the shreds of what was left of your childhood and innocence behind. His nose brushes your cheek as his lips find yours, delicately, sweetly. The touch is so pure, so delicious; it stops time.

___

When the small crowd finally leaves your room, you sigh in relief at the return of your intimacy. Jinyoung is back. Even crazier and even more passionate than before, but you’ve grown. You’ve changed and he doesn’t seem to want to realize that. You walk behind your folded screen to slip off your Elissa costume; it takes you a moment to get rid of the horrible corset. When you are left in only your underskirt, at last, you squeal in triumph. One small battle won, now you shall prepare for the war. You put one of your comfortable dresses on, something drab like everything else you own. Something that will clash with Jinyoung’s lavish appearance. You freeze thinking that; you really don’t want to eat with him right now. You want to think about what his return means, what his father's death means.

The Voice resonates in your room making you jump. “You were amazing tonight. I’d anticipate nothing less from my special protégée.” You had forgotten everything about the performance, but not about your angel of music.

“Thank you…” You bite your lips, walking up to the mirror to take your costume jewelry off now that you are fully clothed. Doing so, you fight the idea of a man observing you, not Jinyoung, but the owner of the Voice.

“Are you going to leave?” It’s sorrowful when it rings again and your freeze, holding one of the jewel flowers from your hair. Somehow guiltily, you lower your gaze to the tip of your shoes.

“I–” You clear your throat. Maybe this is how lost Jinyoung used to feel when his words didn’t come out. “I’ll be back after we have supper…”

“Ok… I… I’ll wait…” It pauses and you stare at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you really have to go. Jinyoung is the new mécène, it would look bad to refuse his invitation, but at the same time, he isn’t a stranger. He’d probably understand if you’d prefer to stay in your room… Right? Meeting him on the night of your first performance role was more than what you both expected, although he seems to be more than thrilled by all this. There was once a time where the simple memory of him would bring joy in your life. You close your eyelids to escape from the horrible flashbacks that come, but you still see it; your father dying, the Vicomte letting you know exactly where you stand, Madame Giry–. You bring a hand to your chest, clutching where your heart is, panicked. You can’t do this.

“Y/n– Um, Mademoiselle Daae!” Behind your closed door, Jinyoung chuckles at his mistake, unaware of your current distress. “Are you almost ready to go?”

The voice is hushed this time, very close and worried. “I don’t want you to go. Don’t go.” You look up to yourself in the mirror, breathing rendered heavy by your old pain and eyes full of tears.

“I have to.” As soon as you say the obvious your hands start to shake. You feel nauseous, overwhelmed by the feeling you’re trapped. Is Jinyoung really not a stranger? Where was he all those years? Even if you ran away, disappeared. Isn’t he the one supposed to always come saving you, like in your childhood games? Where was he? He barely stutters anymore, is he really your Jinyoung then? Is he the same just because he still says he cares for you? Biting your tongue so much you bleed, you wipe a fugitive tear on your cheek.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” Outside, that Jinyoung is sincerely concerned; you’re taking way too long to get ready.

You can’t do this. You deeply sigh before tentatively asking: “This isn’t the only exit, right?” There’s a long silence, heavy and doubt surfaces in the back of your mind.

“Are–” The voice halts, its owner seemingly abashed. “Are you asking me?”

You look up in the mirror again, this time trying to see beyond, unsuccessful like the other times you tried. Perhaps he’s just as scared as you are, there must be a reason he lives in the shadows. You try to remind yourself of that often when you become too curious about him.

Only tonight, you don’t care; you need an escape, need to be saved.

“Who else?”

L’Opéra [Mini Masterlist]