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spideyanakin · 2 years

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10 Things I Hate about you - Chapter 3

Eddie Munson x Harrington! reader

Synopsis - A new rule strikes the Harrington household: if Steve wishes to date ever again, his sister needs to find a boyfriend first. As Steve becomes desperate and thinks of everything in his power to set her up, only one guy comes to mind that will take up a challenge such as that: Eddie Munson.

warnings - still season 1 Steve sry and he’s getting worst, underage drinking, angst at it's finnest

word count - 16k

proof read by the amazing @inknopewetrust

series masterlist 🌻

Monday arrived at the pace of a sloth.

In addition to the “no dating” rule, your parents had put Steve under house arrest for the next three weekends––which quickly backfired on everyone in the house that wasn't him. You never thought you would be grateful that Steve had spent every weekend with his friends. Since middle school, his absence always meant the house was quiet, peaceful, for a short period of time.

The entire weekend, your family endured Steve's constant complaining over his homework and the fact he was home instead of at Tommy’s or with any other of the popular douchebag boys. It only became intolerable when your mother ordered you to tutor him in order to 'make him shut up.’

It only resulted in you giving him all the answers or him copying your work, and no quiet reprieve was gifted in return.

You had fought Steve over the TV like the two of you were toddlers. You battled for the last of the leftover cupcakes you had baked with Dustin, and then Steve threw the Monopoly board in your face when you won. He always became too competitive when it came to games. When you suggested a “truce” game of Clue, he ripped the Mrs. Scarelt card when she had been the murderer you were searching for and not Professor Plum whom he had accused. It got to the point where you were debating drowning yourself in the pool that had just been cleaned from the debris winter had left behind.

"What did you say for the question on scene three?" Barb wondered as she reread through the text in question. Her eyebrows knitted together as she skimmed through the words carefully in an attempt to decipher the man’s prose.

"About the nurse?" You questioned and placed some of your textbooks into your locker. "I talked about how her role in the play is explicitly for Juliet's happiness, and I tied it in with what Mr. Arnold said about older women in Shakespeare being shown in a different light than the younger ones."

"Oh yeah…” She thought on the analysis, “that's good," Barb nodded and closed the book and looked blankly at the white cover and red writing.

"Barb," you spoke her name with a desperate tone as your locker door closed with an echoing bang and your palm met the metal.

"What?"

"Kill me now…” You groaned dramatically, perhaps with more emotion than she had ever seen you emit before. “I have to walk into class and sit next to Steve." Your words made her chuckle. "It's not funny!" You whined, hitting your forehead against the locker door. "This weekend was hell with him not leaving the house. I did half of his homework for him. Half!"

"Hey,” Barb stood straighter as she leaned on the locker beside your own. Her books held tightly against her chest, the red-headed girl gave a kind smile and hopeful eyes. “Look on the bright side! You only have a few hours and then the day’s over, you can go home and lock yourself away in your room."

"That long? I might pick up some ideas from the end of the book by then." As if on cue, the bell rang. You wanted to melt in your spot; become a puddle like the glob of spilled soda that threatened student’s pristine shoes right outside the lunchroom.

But your luck wouldn't have it. You had to sit in your usual seat, in the same boring English classroom, with Steve at your side.

However, who you hadn’t expected to see, was Eddie sitting next to Gareth as they chatted their spare minutes away. Your eyes went a little wide as you looked at him; your gaze fixed on his head of waves as you passed by his seat and sat a few rows behind and to the side from him.

Eddie turned around to look at you once he had finished speaking to Gareth, your gaze still fixed on him.

And then he winked.

You couldn’t fight the way a grin plastered itself onto your face.

You felt like a madman. As though the events of the last week had changed you completely from the stone-cold bitch everyone was afraid of to a gooey, romantic lead in some cheesy B-film. Eddie Munson winked at you. It shouldn’t have felt like the world had chosen you to be the main character of a romantic subplot of life but it did. He winked, smiling himself as he turned his attention back to Gareth and laughed about something his younger friend said.

Thinking about that wink, you didn’t realize the look that had stilled on your face as Steve took his spot beside you.

"Did Munson just wink at you?" Steve blinked in disbelief as he put a folder down on his desktop.

Steve did not know you could smile like that. Steve did not know that you could get flustered like that. Steve did not know that Eddie, the “freak” who had a work ethic so unlike your own yet shared the same interests, could make you feel that way.

"Yes and…?"

"I’ve never seen you speak to him before?" He had to stop the smile that was threatening to spread across his lips. Was his plan working?

"So? Now you watch who I talk to and what I do in your spare time?" You raised an eyebrow.

"No,” He huffed. “I just have never seen you talk with Munson. That’s all."

You shrugged at him to play it off. A part of you wanted Steve to suffer from the “no dating” rule. He was an asshole. Self-centered and mean; a boy who would peak in high school and be stuck selling cars until the end of his days because at some point, Steve decided being the popular kid was his only mission. But you had to stop lying to yourself about what you may want out of life too.

Maybe it isn’t a date or relationship with Eddie Munson—maybe it is. But if you were going to keep Eddie as a friend if it doesn’t plan out like a fantasy novel, then Steve had to know that if he saw Eddie talk to you, wink at you, or give you a smile, that there was a reason for it.

You unzipped your pencil case and retrieved a black pen from the bag.

"We went to The Hideout together last Friday."

"WHAT?" His shriek was a mix of everything Steve was feeling at once.

Shock that his plan was working and you had actually accepted to go out with Eddie; jealousy that you had gone out and he wasn't able to; surprise that you had sneaked out of the house without him noticing; mad that you hadn't actually been in the house and therefore hadn't fulfilled your duty as his emotional support for house arrest; and seriously pissed off at the fact that if your parents had known you were out, then maybe, just maybe they would have let Steve meet his friends too.

"You're telling me you were on a date while I was on house arrest?"

“Can you please,” you hissed at him, “scream it a little louder so the rest of Hawkins High can hear this conversation?” Your gritted teeth and harsh whisper told him it was indeed a type of date. “It wasn't a date," your whispers were calmer as you eyed the teacher standing up to close the door. "I just went with him to see his band play."

"So, it was a date."

"No––"

"You're dating!" He smiled, jumping up and down in his seat like a kid who had too much sugar. Steve was in high school, not an elementary student.

"I'm not!” You defended. “Stop… insinuating things! It wasn't just him, his band was there too."

"Hmm," he said as if he wasn't listening. "I totally believe you."

"You should."

"Morning class," Mr. Arnold greeted with the same two words he had been using for years on end. "I hope you all had a good weekend," his eyes lifted to scan the room, stopping when his gaze landed upon the one student he never expected to be here. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Good to see you, Mr. Munson."

"Same here Mr. Arnold," Eddie gave him his best angelic smile.

"Well, I have this for you," Mr. Arnold turned around to take the white book from his desk, placing it in front of Eddie. "We are at Act one, scene four." Eddie took a second to comprehend the system as he flipped through the pages. Plays weren't his thing.

But when Act 1, Scene 4 was written in bold on top of the page, he gave a thumbs up to the older man.

"I will collect your homework, and then we can read together."

"Steve, where's your book?" You whispered as you examined his desk. The homework you had done for him was in the middle, his pencil case resting on the top corner––but no Romeo and Juliet.

"I don't know where I put it," he lied.

"Are you serious?" You already knew how this was going to end. You'd have to share the book for the rest of the semester, and worse, you knew this would lead to Steve happily copying all your homework and ideas for the assessment later on.

He just shrugged it off as though it were not moot. Those were the facts, you’d just have to accept it as it was because he was the “King of Hawkins High” afterall… Steve Harrington just didn’t fail because he was stupid, he played the long game and that always meant one thing:

Stealing your work.

"Hey! Party at my place on Friday!" Tina cheered as she handed Nancy and Barb a neon orange piece of paper each. ‘Tina's Spring party’ was written in big, black bubble letters with her address at the bottom.

"Y/n didn't get one," Nancy told Tina with an innocent smile with her hand extended to receive another. Tina looked from Nancy to you and back to Nancy as her eyes went blank.

"Oh! I'm sorry!” Tina was not sorry. “That's right," she played dumb as she reluctantly licked the tip of her finger to whisk another paper from the pile she was holding, handing it to Nancy who passed it to you. Taking it with a fake smile, you thanked her before continuing on with the only two girls you’d consider to be friends.

"You didn't have to do that,” you mumbled to Nancy as the paper between the tips of your fingers began to feel like a brick rather than a feather.

"Are you kidding?" Nancy's eyes went wide. "I wasn't going to let her get away with that."

What? Blatant disregard for your existence? Pure dislike for your perfectly penurious outlook on this thing called life?

"It's fine, seriously. I won’t go anyways," you looked down at the page, your nose scrunching up at the idea.

"You won't?" Nancy was almost pouting while Barb had already stressed with her eyes that it was nothing but a burden.

"No… Don't count me in to go to this dumb… mating ritual," you crumpled the paper and threw it in the first trash that crossed your way.

"I don't think I'll go either," Barb shrugged her shoulders. The only way that Barbara Holland would go to a party was with the assurance that Nancy wouldn’t let her pout away in the corner for being a third wheel––but she knew it was going to be her sitting in a corner all evening, making sure Nancy was alright before she would disappear somewhere, or be drunk enough for Barb to leave without her noticing.

"But you have to come with me!" Nancy protested.

"No! You know I don't like parties!"

"But it will be fun!" You scoffed at her, shaking your head at her insistence.

“Stop bothering, Nance!” You smiled as Barb backed you up. “If she doesn't want to go, then let her stay at home.”

“I’m sure the new episode of Little house on the Prairie will be much more interesting than this,” you flicked the invitation still sitting between Barb’s hand.

“Whatever,” Nancy rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to go alone.”

“I’m afraid so,” you pouted, the look on her face making you chuckle.

Eddie watched with a smile on his face as you passed right beside his locker, almost melting at the little smile and wave you gave him when you passed his way.

Oh, fuck him. His sanity was burning to a crisp along the very path you walked. A simple smile, a tiny, little wave that looked like something out of a stranger danger VHS and he was jittery. The money in his pocket––even if not physically there––weighed it all back to reality. The reminder that the smile was based on a lie bled just as quickly as it skimmed.

“Did you just smile at Munson?” He could hear Nancy squeak as your head turned back around.

“Yeah, and?” Your voice snapped back, but unfortunately, you had disappeared down a different hall before he could snoop on the rest.

“I heard you went out with my sister last Friday,” Steve’s voice broke Eddie’s day dreaming.

“I did,” Eddie nodded, straightening his back in pride.

“I can’t believe you’ve actually convinced her to go out with you,” Steve chuckled in disbelief before placing a hand in one of the pockets of his jacket. “Here,” Steve stuffed a new fifty dollar bill in Eddie’s hand before he even had the time to protest, “as promised.”

Steve was still laughing to himself. “Just make sure that I actually know about it this time.”

“Alright,” Eddie stuffed the bill in his pocket without taking a second glance at it.

“Like take her to the movies or something.”

“Noted.”

“Good,” Steve nodded before walking away.

As Eddie watched Steve disappear down the hall you had moments before, the money in his pocket was no longer imaginary. The weight was heavy, it was physically there and jesting him like a foe. Here it was, it cried to him as Shakespearan as an enemy could. A prize.

And it made him sick thinking that he ever agreed to such a deal.

But then he remembered your smile, that little wave. In his mind, Eddie could recall the innocence of it. How he felt, and how you felt––but the money kept rolling in.

“Y/n,” Steve jumped on the couch next to you. Your eyes lifted up from the episode of Dallas playing to see his big smile creeping only inches away from you. “You’re coming to the party on Friday, right?”

“No, I’m not.”

“What do you mean you’re not?” His smile fell. “You have to go!”

“No, I don’t,” you rolled your eyes before looking back at the TV to see a close up of Larry Hagman’s face.

“But you have to go! You’re the only way I can convince mom and dad to let me go! Pretend I’ll be your… protector or something.”

The fact that had spewed from his lips made you want to chuck him out of a window.

“My protector?”

“Yes! Make sure drunk boys don’t cling to you or laugh at you or try anything with you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You mean half of the guy you are when you get drunk? I’m sorry, Steve,” you drawled his name out like he was a child being scolded by a parent, “but I specifically remember the halloween party freshman year where you got so drunk you—”

“We don’t need to talk about that!” He pointed a finger, cutting you off with the slap of the back of his hand to your shoulder.

“You are literally those guys! You wouldn’t be protecting me from anything!”

“Other guys! Not me, just… other guys! And they don’t need to know about me… just how their precious little daughter is going to be looked after by her precious brother.”

“I’m not going,” you stated definitively. “Convince them yourself.”

“Y/n!”

“Steeeeve!” you mimicked his whining.

“Is your brother bothering you again?” Your mother walked into the room when she heard the commotion. It was like a dog answering a silent whistle—she heard it, she came. A motherly instinct, if you will.

“He is!”

“I’m not!”

She shook her head, pushing the reply as unimportant, not bothering to care about your sibling banter before grabbing a book from the shelves next to the TV.

“Diner’s in five,” she gave both of you pointed looks and you scrambled up off the couch, leaving Steve behind.

As you disappeared behind the doorway, your mothers gaze was kept on your brother. She raised an eyebrow when he simply grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels with a soured expression painted on his face.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?” He barely looked up.

“Go help your sister set up the table,” Steve’s face fell even further when the words registered.

Chores. Expectations. The rules of the house for every evening since he was old enough to remember them.

“Oh, right.”

And after ten minutes of fighting Steve over which side of the plate the forks were placed on and which glasses were the ones for water rather than all else, the family sat around the diner table with a meal whisking up into the air and filling each nose with a delicious scent.

The food was comforting. The stress that you accumulated throughout the day shedding away as you enjoyed the meal. For a second, you pretended you were transported to a time where you and Steve still got along. A time where the two of you had the same interests and he didn’t make every second of your life miserable.

One where he wasn’t the ‘King of Hawkins High’ and you weren’t the sibling who was a little too far on the side of strange.

“Mom, dad,” Steve lifted his eyes from the potatoes in his plate, “I wanted to ask you something.” Of course he had to quickly ruin the moment.

Your dream shattered with the sound of his sweet voice.

“What is it?” Your mother brought her glass of sparkling water towards her lips.

“Well… there’s this party on Friday—”

“Don’t even think about it.” Your father’s voice cut him off before he could really begin.

“But—”

“Steve,” he lamented, “you need to focus on your work! When you show us that your grades are improving, only then will we trust you enough to go out again. It’s simple.”

“But that’s unfair!”

“How is this unfair?” He asked, letting the question hang in the air. When your father didn’t receive a reply, he continued; “Is your sister going?” His eyes landed on you like a target being breached.

Mayday, mayday! Abandon ship before Steve sinks you with his conniving pea-brained ideas.

“No.”

For once, Steve had told the truth.

“Then you won’t go. Take an example from her,” your father pointed at you with his fork. “She has nearly perfect grades and still has a social life––”

“That's a lie,” Steve snorted to himself.

“Your sister is doing fine. She’s proof that you can get good grades too and have a life while doing so.”

“That’s not fair! I want to enjoy my life as a teenager, and she doesn’t!” Your father sighed as he listened to Steve. “You can’t keep me on house arrest forever!”

“No, but––” he stopped mid sentence, the same look that had lit up his features last Monday coming back. This was bad for Steve, you thought to yourself as you watched your father search for the right words. “Not forever.”

“Ok! Then when!?”

“When your sister goes out.”

“WHAT?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “You can take this as a new addition to the dating rule. Forget the house arrest stopping in three weeks, from now on, you follow your sister’s footsteps.” You almost spat your drink onto the ornate tablecloth your mother had set for spring. Oh my god. The three weekend house arrest had turned into this? Steve was just digging himself a bigger hole and it made your evening all the more entertaining.

But that also meant that Steve would make your life a living hell.

“BUT THAT’S SO UNFAIR!”

“It’s not. You’re being too careless with your work, she isn’t. When she goes out, you can too. End of story.”

“DAD! I–– YOU’RE RUINING MY LIFE!” The plates flew as Steve’s fist collided with the table. “UGH!” He stood up, frustration taking the best of him. “I can’t stand another minute of this,” he mumbled, his face red in anger. You could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears as he walked around the table, his feet stomping up the stairs before his bedroom door slammed shut and he made the house rumble with it.

“Do you plan on going out any time soon?” Your father turned to you.

“Nope,” you spoke, your face half hidden by your glass of water.

“Too bad for your brother then.”

“I can’t believe you’re also on house arrest,” Tommy snickered as he watched the soccer scrimmage with Steve. He opened his water bottle, bringing it to his lips as he was still thirsty and sore from ten minutes of light exercise that morning.

“Shut up, please,” Steve groaned and lifted his head to the sky. “I need to go to this party.”

“Have you thought about trying to have Eddie convince her to go? Maybe he can do it if you can’t. Hell, he’s managed to get this far without being found dead in a ditch.”

“It’s impossible… even for Eddie Munson,” Steve shook his head as he grabbed his Peanut Butter Kudos bar from his bag––elated Carol had called in sick that morning so he could have it all to himself. “Nothing in this world will get her to that party.”

“Even if you raise him? Pay him double?” Tommy shrugged.

“I could try,” Steve placed the wrapper of the bar between his teeth, taking the other end of it with his fingers to rip it open. “I’m going to have to take from my savings from now on.”

“You mean the savings you promised yourself you wouldn’t touch til you were out of high school?” Tommy’s eyes went wide. “What do you have in there? Like six hundred?” He knew how much the savings he’d been collecting since he was twelve meant to him.

It was a way out. It was an opportunity to take the girl of his dreams on an ice cream date. The money sat idle waiting to be clinched and spent on Steve’s dreams and unrealistic plans of his future––maybe a cute house and six little munchkins that he loved yet despised at the same time. But it was his. He had saved it, he had scoured hot summer days mowing neighbors lawns and shoveling their driveways during freezing winter mornings for something he could call his.

“Mhm,” Steve hummed an answer.

"I can’t believe you’ve already spent a hundred on this."

“You’re the one telling me to spend more!”

“Yeah! Because you look like a lost puppy and can’t stop complaining.”

"You don't understand! This party is my shot to ask Nancy out. We chat a bit, make out, and boom! She's my girlfriend! So, you’re right… I will pay him double," Steve explained his plan as he scribbled down the amount of money he already spent on Eddie yesterday, right next to the $1 Kit-Kat he swiped.

"Do you really have to write down everything you spend?" He raised an eyebrow and Steve sighed as he continued his writing.

"Yeah. You'll see when you're broke and I'm not."

"Well I don't spend my money for a stupid cause. Plus, isn’t that just proof that Eddie’s faking it? The fucking world will go up in flames if your sister ever gets her hands on that."

"She won’t and this isn't stupid," Steve dropped his pencil. "It's me trying to get the girl of my dreams.”

"The girl of your dreams?" Tommy gagged. "What kind of drug are you on? Did you let Munson finally convince you into buying from him or something?"

"You’re hopeless, Tommy." he shook his head as he closed his planner and placed it back into his bag.

"Says the one who gave away a hundred dollars and is about to spend more on a guy just so you can start dating again. Are you sure Munson is even invited to this party?”

Valid question.

But Steve knew one thing about the parties in Hawkins: they all needed a supplier of something… booze, weed, a little pick-me-up… and he’d be damned if Eddie Munson wasn’t the first person everyone thought of when they needed something that would make Jim Hopper turn red.

“Doesn't’ hurt to ask…”

Eddie was pulling a chaotic stunt in the halls of Hawkins High when Steve noticed him for the first time that day.

Your brother had been losing himself in the maze of hallways that he should have recalled like the back of his hand in an attempt to find Eddie when he didn’t find him at his usual spot in the drama room. After what felt like hours of searching, Steve hadn’t expected to find Eddie sprinting across the empty hallway with one of the big, black clocks from the cafeteria gripped between his hands.

“For your game?” Steve wondered as a breathless Eddie sprinted past him.

“You bet!” He nodded before disappearing into another hallway, heading straight for the drama room.

“Did Munson just pass by here?” Mrs. Jinkles arrived in front of Steve barely a few seconds later. The older woman was on the verge of sixty, huffing as though she had smoked three packs of cigarettes in a row.

“He went that way,” Steve pointed in the opposite direction to where Eddie had gone.

It hadn’t registered in his mind that if it were any other day, under any other circumstance, he would have sold Eddie out just to gain the favor of the teachers––to skip out on assignments, of course.

Steve watched as Mrs. Jinkles rolled her shoulders back and marched in the direction of his finger. He sighed in his own right before making his way toward the drama room. The familiar posters greeted him before he opened the door.

Eddie was hunched over the clock he had stolen. He had already opened it, its contents spilling onto the already messy table.

“Harrington,” Eddie did not look up at him, “ if you’re here to tell me to hurry up and get your sister on that date, know that you only asked me yesterday–”

“I’m not here for that,” Steve shook his head before walking towards Eddie, dropping a crisp, new fifty dollar bill beside the clock.

“That’s to get her to Tina’s party,” he paused. “You’re invited, right?”

“Believe it or not, Harrington, but I do get invited to parties,” he looked from the bill to Steve with a look the latter was all too familiar with. It was the kind where someone more intelligent challenged Steve to see the stupidity of his question.. “I thought you already paid me?”

“Not for the party,” Steve explained. “I need her to go or else I won’t be able to. You’ll need that extra cash for luck because she has a thing against parties that I don’t really understand… somethin’ about ‘radical feminism’ or was it ‘toxic social spheres’?”

“What?” Eddie snickered.” You’re also on house arrest?” Steve Harrington, the King of Hawkins High, not allowed to date and under house arrest, was paying him to take his sister out so he could magically remove all of these new rules. It felt so much like a popular kid tantrum that he had to laugh.

Eddie felt like a goldfish out of the bowl on many occasions but Steve treating him as though he was a main character in a film he wouldn’t be caught dead watching, a proverbial fish inside of the bowl, was jarring.

“Kind of,” Steve muttered embarrassed. “You get why I need her to be there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie shook his head, tuning out Steve’s words as he tried to remove a screw from the clock.

“Get her to that party,” Steve pointed a finger at him.

“I will.”

But Eddie knew he had a challenge. He liked it, the game of it all, yet Eddie enjoyed the chase so much that the money unraveling beside his hand next to the clock felt like a fire ready to set him ablaze.

Since the second Steve Harrington had approached Eddie Munson on that fateful day, the boys of Hellfire had seen a change. He watched, perhaps unintentionally, everything you did. The way you sat with friends and scoffed at their perspectives and laughed at their jokes; the headphones you wore were falling apart on the top but you pulled them out every day to listen to a tape he surely would have enjoyed too.

It was consuming him—you. A jewel in a sea of so much… bland, grainy sand and Oliver had uncovered Eddie’s mission with spite. He hated watching his friend peek over the edge of his locker just to glimpse at you, he sneered at the way Eddie pocketed that change only to act like a fool in love when you passed by without a glance.

A Pertruchio to a Katherina; the taming of Hawkins very own shrew.

“I think I found a new beat for a song,” Gareth shook Eddie out of his thoughts as his focus broke. The younger man watched from the corner of his eye as Oliver’s expression changed as his gaze lifted off of Eddie and to the discussion.

“Oh, that’s good,” Eddie nodded, taking another pretzel from the plastic bag tucked in his lunch box before letting his gaze fly back to you like a magnet being called home.

“I think it could go well with the lyrics you came up with the other day!” Gareth tried to catch him back, but Eddie was as good as a fish who didn’t like the bait Gareth was throwing.

“Eddie?” Jeff attempted to grab his attention to support Gareth.

“Hm?” The boy in question turned his head to face his friend as if Gareth’s comment had flown over his head and the conversation was no longer important.

“Are you going to Tina’s party?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded as he chewed on the remnants of the pretzel.

“I don’t get how easily it is for you to get invited,” another boy from the table chimed in. That kid was a freshman and wasn’t ever going to be invited to a party if he continued to hang out with Hellfire but if he sold drugs, that would give incentive to those looking for a fix.

“It’s a house party, everyone is invited. Just if you haven’t personally received the paper for it, Tina probably doesn’t want you there.” Jeff stated, licking his lips from the previous sip of coke he had just taken. “And Eddie is invited because he deals and that’s cool at parties.”

“Indeed,” Eddie confirmed, his finger tapping a random beat on the table. His reply still felt as though he was far off into space which drew the entire table’s focus to him.

“Is your girlfriend going?” Oliver asked before opening his box of strawberry Nerds only to pretend like he hadn’t just said something triggering or hadn’t been thinking about it the entire period.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

There. They had Eddie’s full attention.

“Not yet,” Oliver clarified. “But you’re getting paid to become her boyfriend.” The small candies made a big sound similar to a rainstick as Oliver shook the box and a few dropped into his palm.

“Well, I’m also paid to get her to the party so… yeah,” Eddie looked down at his mini pretzels resting at the bottom of his lunchbox.

They didn’t look as appetizing as they did last week and even the sandwich he’d made in a rush that morning made his stomach turn. The peanut butter oozing from the sides, its slices could have been paper and its contents pencil shavings and Eddie would dislike it all the same. He thought that maybe he could use some of Steve’s money or leftover cash from dealing to buy something from the cafeteria tomorrow to fight the feeling that had sunk in his stomach every lunch period since Steve’s proposal. Maybe Eddie would find whatever was on the lunch menu good enough that he could finally get something in his stomach.

However, deep down, he knew it wasn’t the food. He knew very well it was the weight he was feeling in the pit of his stomach growing bigger every time his eyes landed on you and he caught himself thinking all the things he shouldn’t have been.

You looked good that afternoon. Well, you did every afternoon. You were listening to Barb as though she was telling the most intriguing story—which he fathomed could not have been the case yet he was amazed by your enthusiasm. The hard shell you wore wasn’t so hard when people truly looked.

It was as though he was seeing you for the first time, every time. A new, funny feeling rising within him that made him nervous as the money sat lumped in his jeans.

“Are you guys going?” Eddie flipped the question around, wishing to give his mind a break from his sulking.

“Your brother is acting suspicious.”

On the other side of the cafeteria, where Eddie’s gaze had previously been fixed, Barb couldn’t help voice her worries. It was not a story that Barb had eclipsed your attention with, but a comment. One singular comment that made things feel as though the ground you walked on was ice.

“What do you mean?” You frowned before bringing your fork full of food up to your lips.

“He asked me stuff about you… like to be a better brother… which Steve has never, ever, put the effort into being.’”

"Steve? Wanting to be a better brother?" The idea made you laugh. “What did he ask?”

“Stuff about you. What you like, what you do on weekends…” You stopped your fork mid flight towards your mouth, both eyebrows raised.

“Why?” You dropped your fork back on your plate and the food splattered like a painting.

“I told you! He said it was to ‘be a better brother.’”

“Maybe he actually wants to be a better brother,” Nancy chimed in, making your gaze turn to her. A sympathetic smile tugged on your lips.

“Nance, I know you like him but he definitely does not want to put any effort in making my life easier,” you snorted and Nancy suddenly became all flustered when you talked openly about her feelings. “Do you have an idea why he would ask you that?” You turned your attention back towards Barb.

“No,” she shook her head. “But just look out for anything suspicious.”

“That will be hard. Anything Steve does is suspicious.”

“Did you really need to crush on him out of all the boys in Hawkins?” Barb turned her head towards Nancy. The poor girl was hunched over her lunch in embarrassment, focusing all her attention on getting her blush to stomp out as she poked the peas around on her plastic tray..

“I guess my brother is his own kind of special…” You sighed as you moved your own food. “I’ll just have to sleep with both eyes open now… you know, it was getting real hard trying to keep one from closing.”

Barb laughed, Nancy’s blush diminished. Neither of them knew you were able to make a joke out of something that had you on the edge on the inside.

—

When Tuesday came to an end, the joy that bubbled from your stomach made the day feel less aggravating than it had been. The warm spring air made everyone’s spirits brighter; students laughed as they slid into their cars and people shed their coats and sweaters to celebrate as much sunlight as they possibly could after winter deprived them of it for so long.

You opened your car’s back door, swinging your bag in the backseat before closing it again and checking your watch. Dustin should be there any minute now.

“Hey.”

You could have picked that voice out from a crowd––a week ago you wouldn’t have said the same.

“Hey,” you matched Eddie’s tone and gave a small smile as he approached your car, sliding up to lean against the door you had just shut. “Didn’t expect to see you in class today. I think Mr. Arnold nearly shit his pants..”

“He’d never live it down if he did,” he laughed. “But I said I’d show up, didn’t I?”

“You did,” you picked at your bracelet in an attempt to distract yourself from the way your heart fluttered at Eddie. Perhaps it was the way he stood confidently against a crowd, or maybe it was the way his eyes made you feel as though you were the only person he could ever focus on––but the feeling made you uneasy because it was new.

At the same time, you were searching for a distraction to quell the feeling. A group of cheerleaders passed by; all holding the neon orange papers for Tina’s party and grinning like they were the happiest people to ever exist.

"Are you going?" You leaned opposite him, crossing your arms as you waited for his reply. “To Tina’s party, I mean.”

"Yeah,” Eddie nodded, “she asked me to deal. Parties are usually where I make the most profit so… can’t pass that up when I’ve got you to impress.”

You tipped your head to look at your shoes. White, slightly grimey sneakers staring back at you as you fought the heat. All consuming, Eddie Munson was. And he made you feel like jelly when he said stupid, ridiculous things like that.

“How about you?" You needn’t look at him to see the smile on his face. You could hear the difference in tone.

You shook your head. Rising to see him again, he was hopeful when your answer was the furthest from it. “No,” you admitted. “Not a party person.”

“No?” He had a flirtatious inflection to it. “Got a reason?”

“I find them dumb and pointless. An excuse for all the girls who take sips of church wine to act like complete airheads and get plastered off one can of PBR.”

If he was being honest he couldn’t agree more. He never had the conventional “blast” teens were supposed to have at parties. Eddie only liked them because it made his sales blow. But he remembered he had to convince you to go. You had to go. He wouldn’t step foot on Tina’s lawn without you.

Neither of you heard the bell that signaled the end of the middle school day.

Dustin, who had been waddling his way over on the sidewalk that connected the two schools, hadn’t noticed Eddie when he suddenly decided to run his way over and tackle you into a hug.

“Y/n!” The second he and his screaming of your name appeared out of nowhere, Eddie took a step back. A light shock in his eyes when he spotted a pre-teen being so affectionate around you when the girl he knew was far from a “caretaking” type. You didn’t have a little brother? For as long as he could recall, there had only ever been two Harrington siblings: you, and the idiot with the good hair.

A big “oof” escaped your lips before you wrapped your arms around him, tightening the hug as much as he’d allow before letting go.

“How was your weekend?”

“AMAZING! You will never guess what happened! Mike’s campaign is INSANE! There were golden dragons and evil fairies that wanted to steal Will’s wizard staff and the only way we could fight them was with this unknown crystal––” Dustin rambled so fast that you caught none of it but Eddie had. He’d always recognize when someone spoke the language he loved.

“Campaign?” Eddie’s voice broke off Dustin’s jittery talk. “You play D and D?” He questioned you first as though you had been the one admitting it; grinning from ear to ear at the possibility.

“Sadly, no,” you breathed, your words a bit desperate. “But he does! And he promised to teach me but he’s always busy.”

“Who is this?” Dustin snapped his head from you to Eddie.

A wave washed over the young boy at that moment. Eddie wasn’t Steve. He wasn’t a guy who tried to ask Nancy out nor was he a cookie-cutter mold of the jocks everyone loved. He was edgy; he was cool with an immediate draw because like Dustin, Eddie didn’t fit a mold. He smelt of cigarette smoke and a cheap cologne––a scent Dustin knew he had to copy because if he could be cool like this guy, maybe others would find him just as intriguing in his grade.

“Y/n,” his voice was flat, serious, “why were you hiding your awesome friend from me?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” you giggled at Dustin’s dramatic words, Eddie loved the sound of it. “Dustin, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Dustin, the boy I babysit.”

Awesome. The kid Eddie had never once seen in his life had called him awesome without speaking a word to him. No one had ever said that about him before.

Eddie extended his hand like a real adult toward the kid. Dustin took it and with soft, baby-like hands, tried to return a handshake that would impress his awesome new acquaintance.

“What grade are you in?” Eddie asked.

“Seventh/”

“Ah,” he nodded in reflection. “Well, hopefully I’ll be out of high school by the time you’re a freshman, but when you do get here, tell whichever awesome Dungeon Master is running hellfire that you know me and they’ll take you without question.”

“Hellfire?” His eyes lit up like spotlights on a stage. It sounded dangerous, cool. Dungeon Master had slipped under his radar because the name was so sick.

“It’s the name of our party.”

“Wait, Hellfire is a D and D party?” Your own eyes grew wide because truthfully, you hadn’t any idea what in the world it was. You had seen the recruiting posters that the football team defaced but how were you supposed to know what a devil mascot was supposed to represent?

“Yeah,” Eddie looked as though it were obvious. “What did you think it was?” Eddie crossed his own arms, his expression questioning.

“I don’t know, actually. People say so many different things about it, I really didn’t know.”

“Well, I’ll invite you to a campaign if you want to learn. We play every Friday and sometimes Tuesdays in the drama room when it’s free.”

“I would love to.”

Dustin was not sure what he was watching as he looked up at the one person he loved like a sister giving heart eyes to a boy he found to be his new idol.

“I just have to finish my character sheet.”

“Oh, that’s no problem, I’ll help you.”

Dustin lifted his gaze from you to Eddie like he would at a tennis match. The interaction brought sparks to his eyes. The two of you liked each other. The heart eyes were mutual; they were nervous and giddy and he had seen Lucas give them to Shelley Windsor from across the lunchroom six weeks ago only to be spurred by her accidentally spilling milk on his favorite t-shirt three days later.

“Sounds perfect.”

“Not this Friday because of Tina’s party, but how about the one after? We can go to The Hideout right after, we have a gig then.” The mention of The Hideout made Dustin’s smile even wider.

A date. A real date.

“Sounds like a date.”

The word echoed in Eddie’s mind like a beautiful melody. The keys drawing the most beautiful sound that even Motzart was envious but the second a finger slipped and the keys turned sour, the weight of the money sitting in his pocket squandered the joy.

“Yeah,” he wished he could have replied to it with a full smile and without the lump in his throat or the pit in the bottom of his stomach.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked, titling your head with a hope he had begun the conversation with but ended without.

“Yeah.”

Eddie nodded as you both said goodbye before walking away to his van on the other end of the parking lot.

“You all set?” You turned to Dustin, a dumb smile still plastered on his features as he adjusted the straps of his backpack.

“Mhm,” He hummed yes, walking around the car to access the passenger seat.

“You listened to me,” he spoke again when the door was closed and both seat belts were on.

“What?”

“About meeting people at The Hideout.”

“How––”

“He literally said he played at The Hideout.” You closed your mouth instead of replying, narrowing your eyes.

“I’m glad you finally found someone,” Dustin grinned, a toothless, adorable grin that could always make you feel happy.

“I didn’t––Eddie isn’t––”

“Oh it’s a date then!” He mimicked your voice, but not in a mocking way.

“Alright, I did say that,” you rolled your eyes. “But it doesn’t mean he’s my boyfriend or anything.”

“Not yet!”

“Dustin––”

“Y/n, what more can you ask for! He plays D and D which probably makes him a nerd like us! He plays guitar and is in a band, he looks like a rock star and like he’s the coolest person on earth… plus he definitely likes you.”

“I am not having this conversation with you,” you chuckled, turning your eyes back to your steering wheel and finally starting the car. “Eddie is… just… Eddie.” You hadn’t noticed, but even saying his name made you smile.

“Fine, then I hope you enjoy your date with just Eddie.”

“I will, thank you.”

“Boo!”

Your soul nearly left your body as the quiet solitude of browsing the store’s tape selection was interrupted. Led Zeppelin's cover art shaking as your hand clutched it tightly, the plastic nearly cracking under your grip.

Turning around, you met those big brown eyes and familiar curls that had filled your thoughts every second of every day.

“You followin’ me, Munson?” You raised an eyebrow, questioning him with a teasing tone. “I swear you’ve been popping up everywhere I have been lately.”

“Just a coincidence, I guess…” Eddie grinned as he looked at the tape in his own hand. A flustered, small blush painting his cheeks. “I came to get Bark at the Moon,” he showed you the familiar tape. “I accidentally ruined it while cleaning my room. Stepped on it and it cracked into a million little pieces.”

“Eddie Munson cleans his bedroom?” You laughed as he rolled his eyes. “I never would have thought.”

“Well,” he tapped the tape with his fingers, “I guess I’m just full of surprises then.”

A small lull passed over the two of you as conversation settled. He looked, like he always did, at you with so much curiosity and fondness that you weren’t sure it could have evolved as quickly as it did. A crush that swallowed him whole, all he wanted to do was be in your presence––for a second, for an hour, for an entire lifetime, Eddie Munson was chasing a high that was brought on by all the wrong reasons.

“What are you doin’ here?” He questioned, gazing around the store when looking at you reminded him too much of the funds supplying his purchase. “I thought you were babysitting?”

“Just finished actually. This store is on my way home and I can’t keep money in my pockets long when I know there is something I want,” you scanned the shelf again, grabbing the Fleetwood Mac tape that had been on your wishlist forever.

“He seems like a nice kid.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Dustin is the best,” smiling as your eyes fell back to Eddie. “I think the two of you would get along.”

“I’m sure we would. The kid plays D and D for Christ’s sake!” He laughed, walking with you towards the counter to check out.

Before you could set the tapes down, Eddie put out his hand.

“Let me see them?”

You furrowed your brows but let him take them. Eddie may have loved music, but Fleetwood Mac wasn’t a cup of tea he sipped from often, if ever. He’d admit “I’m So Afraid” was sick but only in the comfort of someone who wouldn’t expose him for enjoying something that wasn’t hard metal.

“Why?” You asked as he piled the ones you had collected on top of his own. He set them on the counter and the man behind it began ringing them up.

“Eddie––” The protests left your mouth quickly but he shook his head.

“I wanna get them for you.”

“What? No!” In an attempt to grab one back, he pushed your hand away from the counter. “I have the money for them. I literally just got paid!”

“Didn’t say you had no money, sweetheart.”

The Fleetwood Mac tape rang up to six-fifty. Far too much for him to pay for something like that.

“You can’t pay for those,” you huffed. “They’re not your tapes.”

“You ever heard of something called a gift? Or better yet, maybe chivalry? You take a lot of English classes, I think that word has popped up a time or two.”

You looked at him with a flat face but he challenged it as he pulled bills from his pocket. As you gave him a glare, he slid the money across the counter and the guy took it without you tearing your eyes away from Eddie.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Little late for that, sweetheart,” that goddamn name again. He tipped his head to the side, scrunching his nose as your annoyance was built from an unearthed appreciation of his motivations.

“Let me pay you back,” you breathed out.

“No.”

“Eddie, come on.”

“No!” He laughed as the man handed him the change and pushed the tapes back out toward the two of you. Eddie split the tapes, one for him, two for you, and made for the door.

“Why did you do that?” You trailed behind him like a puppy.

“You know, a ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“Th-thank you,” you stumbled on your words as you looked from the tapes that had come back to your hand to Eddie. “But––”

“I just wanted to be nice, give you a gift. Is that so bad?”

“No…. Thank you,” you smiled as the door’s bell had silence, the cars on the road beside the shop filled the air and Eddie halted beside his van that was parked beside your car.

“I was wondering,” he squinted as the spring sun caught his eye, “would you come to Tina’s party with me?” You really didn’t mean to laugh, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had been adamant that you weren’t going. Parties were not your “thing.” Only when you turned your head to side to watch the almost heartbreaking look in his eyes did you stop.

“I’m sorry,” you sucked in a breath. “I’m not laughing at you. I just… I don’t go to parties,” you shook your head. “The thought of me going makes me laugh.”

“Even if I’ll be at the party?”

“Eddie, Axl Rose could be at that stupid party and I still wouldn’t go.”

“You wouldn’t even do it for Axl!?” Eddie put a hand to his heart as if that had offended him.

“Not even for Axl.”

“Well,” he countered, “how about Kirk?”

“Still no,” you giggled. “All of Metallica could be there and I would be at home watching reruns of that Ewok show or the new episode of Little House on the Prairie instead.”

“That bad, huh?”

“You really think I want to attend a party where everyone just gets drunk and makes out and then people throw up everywhere because they get even more drunk––”

“And high,” he added.

“And high! Plus the music is fucking… awful.”

“Ok, I agree with you,” Eddie nodded in agreement. “Nevermind then. You’re right.”

“Thank you, I know I’m right,” He liked the confidence he saw. The way you tipped your chin to the sky and your head bobbled. Eddie was disappointed he couldn’t get you to go but he wouldn’t trade seconds with you for anything.

You walked past his van and opened the door to the front seat of yours.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You didn’t know why it came out as more of a question.

“Yeah,” his car keys jingled in his hand. “See you tomorrow.”

The second you settled into your car, you slipped in the tape and putting the Metallica one that had filled its spot in the empty case.

You sighed as your hands fell on the wheel; the leather of the material familiar and growing warm under the sun. You watched as Eddie entered his van, giving you a small wave before firing up his engine and driving opposite the direction you were headed.

Two lives separated by a town yet brought together by simple interests.

“Pull yourself together,” you sighed, melting in your seat as the first few notes of Rhiannon started playing.

You never felt like this. The ache in your heart, the butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach… These unfamiliar feelings were almost painful as you tried to fight them, trying to run far away from them. You felt like one of those toys you and Steve would fight over as toddlers and ended up splitting in two by pulling too hard. Instead of the forces being two chaotic children, it was your head and your heart.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” Eddie beamed beside you.

He had caught you in the hall as you made your way toward the gym the next day. Persistent is what he was, when you thought of how he pestered in a respectful, yet interested manner. You never had a guy chase after you before––want to spend time with you or treat you like you were the apple of his eye.

“I told you already,” you fixed your discolored sports bag on your shoulder. “I’m not going, Eddie. No one could convince me to go.”

“But I’ll feel lonely without you.” He gave you sad eyes and fuck, it made you waver for a milisecond.

“You’ll be fine,” you rolled your eyes instead. “There are plenty of others to talk to or make fun of, I am sure of it.”

“No, there won’t be. I need you for moral support.”

“Moral support?”

“Yes,” he furiously nodded with conviction.

“I’m not going.”

“Please?”

“No,” you shook your head, a smile dancing over your lips as you saw his brown eyes peering at you with want.

“Fine,” he scoffed. “If I die, it’s your fault.”

“Die? Dramatic much?” You giggled. “You mean to guilt trip me into doing something I don’t want to do? Sounds like a you problem, Eddie.”

“No. I’m extremely realistic. I will fucking die if you aren’t there to save me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, nodding as if you were believing his fallacies. “Totally believe you right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, Y/n,” he shook his head in disbelief.

“You’ll be fine,” He was making a disparate face, pouting and looking at you like a sad, stray animal. “You never give up, do you?”

“Was that a yes?”

“I’m not going, Eddie,” you said one last time, rolling your eyes before going on your way, heading towards the inside gym that was fitted for volleyball every afternoon. Eddie sighed as he watched you disappear, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

At least he tried.

But then, he went to Steve.

"I tried, she said she won't go."

“Well, will you convince her for another fifty!?” Steve pulled out his wallet and started sifting through the money. Eddie held out his hands and forced Steve’s hands closed, the wallet slamming shut with a force.

“Steve, you’re not an ATM machine! Put your goddamn money away.”

“I know!” Steve frustratingly screeched. “ButI need her to be there!”

“I can try again,” Eddie faltered because he felt deep down, you’d never agree to go. “She really doesn’t want to fucking go to this thing so if I can’t get to her to, that’s not on me.”

Friday ended with no progress for either Steve or Eddie. Convincing you to attend Tina’s party had been a failure––for both of them and truthfully, neither could blame the other for not being successful in their mission. Your mind was fixed. Parties were dumb and stupid and absolutely useless. You had better things to do with your time.

Like putting on pajamas and watching the new episodes of the last season of Little House or finish reading act 1 of Romeo and Juliet for Monday.

“I don’t understand you,” Steve narrowed his eyes as he watched you from across the room. You were snuggled up on the far end of the couch, eating yogurt while mindlessly watching commercials as you waited for your show to begin.

“What do you mean?” You licked the end of your spoon before dipping it into the carton again.

“Why do you not want to go to this party?”

“I just don’t want to,” you looked back at the TV. “Why does everyone want me to go?” You muttered to yourself as you took another spoonful of yogurt.

“Why can’t you be normal?”

“Define ‘normal’?”

“Tina’s party is normal. Wanting to go to the party is normal. Having friends who want you to be at the party is normal.”

“Tina’s party is just a pathetic excuse for all the idiots in our school to drink beer and rub up against each other in hopes of distracting themselves from the pathetic emptiness of their meaningless––”

“––Consumer–driven lives. I KNOW!” Steve groaned, tugging at his hair in frustration. “Can you, just for one night, forget that you’re totally wretched and act like we're actually siblings with the same interests?”

“No. I told you parties are–”

“Dumb? Stupid? I got that! Y/n, why can’t you just do this for me?”

“I already do everything for you!” You made frantic movements, pointing at him with your empty spoon. “This time, deal with the consequences of your actions yourself!” You huffed, fully turning your stare back to the TV, silently telling him you were done with the conversation.

“You’re being a bitch!”

“Excuse me?” You snapped your head back to only be met by a serious expression.

“You heard me! You’re being a heinous bitch and ruining my life right now!” He leaned away from the doorframe he had been watching you from. “And then you wonder why you barely can get any friends! Maybe you just say you don’t want to be in a relationship because you know you can’t keep a guy. You’re too mean and selfish!” Your mouth remained wide open as the words escaped him. “You’re just a loser! A freak who knows no one will want her at that stupid party! That’s why you’d rather stay home and watch that dumb ‘house in the fields show.’”

As if on cue the commercials stopped and the familiar theme song that was normally comforting was ringing through the living room.

“You just want to make my life miserable because yours is!” Your ears were buzzing, and the pang in your chest that he had started just the week before came back full force.

"FINE!" You screamed over his voice and the noise of the TV. Maybe louder than you expected, but you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts. Your hands were trembling as you grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, bringing quiet to the room. The tension bubbled up like froth on a hot drink once the welcoming melody had gone quiet.

“I’ll go to your stupid fucking party,” you mumbled the words out as you walked passed him and headed straight up to your room. You struck his shoulder with yours, hard, when you passed him.

You wiped the stray tear you hadn’t noticed had fallen before changing. Fumbling with your shirts and pants as if you didn’t even know your own closet; shell shocked from the perceptions Steve had expressed. You grabbed your shoes and spotted Eddie’s sweatshirt spread out on your chair.

You took it without a second thought before flying down the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Your father appeared in the doorway of the entry hall with a cup of coffee in his hands. It was far too late for one and he’d be up all night working because of it.

"To a party,” you bit back, your father taking a step back in surprise.

"A party?"

"Yeah, Tina's spring party," you grumbled, not making eye contact with him as he continued asking questions. You loudly dropped your shoes on the floor before sitting down next to them to slip them on.

Steve came not long after with a beaming smile plastered on his face. His hair was even more perfect than before, he was dressed in his version of perfect. The polished rich kid coming out in his baby blue polo tucked into his light brown pants. Steve grabbed his navy jacket from the coat rack by the door.

“Steve–” your father wanted to deny Steve from leaving the home.

“That’s the rule right?” Steve turned to the mirror over the shoe rack. “She goes, I go!” He looked at himself one last time before clapping his hands together. "We'll be back by two!" Steve turned back to you just as you were standing back up.

"Is that a new sweater?" He wondered, a grin still plastered on his face as he eyed the black hoodie you were wearing. It looked worn out and smelled funny, suspicion rising in the back of his mind that Eddie Munson had been doing his job after all.

"It's none of your business," you walked past him and out through the front door to get to your car.

The party was everything you expected it to be.

People making out in every corner, beer keg competitions that your brother jumped on the second you arrived, and awful flirting skills as boys finally got the courage to make their move with a little liquid courage.

The whole house became a mess of sweaty bodies and spilled drinks topped off with loud, annoying music. Stuffy air from the weed and cigarette smoke mixed with the intoxicating chemical smell of different flavored Teen Spirit deodorants paired with cheap perfume and hairspray.

It was everything you hated.

You spotted Nancy out of the corner of your eye not ten minutes after you slammed the car door closed. She was wearing a flashy shirt, her hair done differently than how she always wore it. She was admiring Steve the ‘King of the Party’ as he won yet again another round of whatever drinking game currently had his attention.

“Sweet,” you barely stepped into the crowded living room when Tommy’s voice made your entire body tense up. “Looking fresh tonight, Harrington,” he smirked, Carol giggling at his side.

Tommy Hagen never failed in making your skin crawl––no––making it want to completely shed itself from your body and run as far away as it could from Hawkins. He was a creep. A pimpled, doughboy creep that thought he was the shit for being friends with Steve and bagged a girl he thought was hot, Carol.

“Did Y/n finally decide to make an appearance?” She snickered.

“Jesus Christ,” you narrowed your eyes as they gathered around you. A pack of wolves on the hunt, a lamb too stubborn to quit centered in their gaze.

You took a step closer to her, “is that lipstick on your teeth?”

Her eyes went wide as her hand reached up to her lips. You took this as an opportunity to walk the other way, quickly getting lost in the sea of bodies again.

The hallway was more crowded. A guy with a tray of shots he was desperate not to spill made his way from the kitchen to the living room, lifting the tray towards you.

“You want one?” The range of shots, from blue to bright pink, looked as unappetizing as dirt. You grabbed the one closest to you without even hesitating. A strange green color that made you more motivated to use it as a way to forget you were at the stupid, fucking party.

To forget the whole fiasco Steve had ruined your weekend with.

That you were a bitch.

That people didn’t want to be your friend.

That no boy would ever want to date you because you were awful.

As the sour liquid slid down your throat, you knew it would help you pretend like Steve hadn’t thrown all of your insecurities at your face. Pretend like you hadn’t gone with him just to prove a point. To prove to him that you were welcomed at this party or that you did have friends.

But maybe it was to prove all of this to yourself.

However, that meant you also needed to forget the pain and the burning feeling in the back of your mind that maybe he was right.

“Hey!” His voice was jovial that he had found you first.

Eddie saw the shot glass in your hand, the blank, nearly heartless look on your face as the scene around you changed from happy to glum.

“What are you doing here? I had to hear from dipshit Tommy Hagen that you actually showed up.” He appeared next to you, concern written all over his face.

If Steve was right, you wished Eddie didn’t give you those looks. You wished he didn’t make you feel like you had a friend in him. You wished he didn’t make your heart thump out of its chest like if he were to disappear tomorrow, you’d have to go too.

“I’m getting trashed, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at parties?” You bit back, your anger from Steve’s scorching rumble mixed with your words. “And Tommy Hagen? He lies… a lot. You’re just on the lucky end that finally a truth came tumbling out of his lips.”

“Your brother likes to make his presence known too,” Eddie put a hand on your shoulder, smiling to himself when he noticed you were wearing his hoodie.

“Ah,” another guy with a tray of random alcohol filled glasses walked right by you, you snatched one away before turning back to Eddie. “Later.”

And his hand slipped from your shoulder as you walked away from him.

He felt scorned.

“Hey!” Eddie called after you. “Where are you going?”

“I’m off to be ‘normal!’” You made air quotes as you said the word.

Eddie didn’t know why he stood there like an idiot as he watched you disappear into the crowd again. The word normal rang through his mind like poison. You hated normal, he hates normal––and you were both too far into your own worlds to ever be normal.

He quickly regretted his decision to stand there like a tree when it forced him to spend a half an hour running through the maze of Tina’s house trying to find you again. Eddie felt like he was in a haunted corn maze held outside of Hawkins every Halloween. Instead of having zombies or jump scares at every corner, it was drunk students making the way around the house impossibly hard.

The breath that was stuck in his throat only released when he spotted you at the crossroad between the living room and the dinning room; a glass half full of rum in your hand. You were stumbling your way around. A half an hour later and his hoodie was missing the strings around the neck, your hair was a mess, and the nailpolish was chipping quickly.

Your expression was a mix between a smile and a frown which Eddie thought to be impossible until he witnessed it on you.

“Hey,” Eddie called out when the music allowed. He attempted to reach for the glass as a way to help you because just looking at you made him realize no one was looking out for you. Drunk, a bit angry, and alone.

“Y/n, maybe you should give me that––” he reached for the glass again. Eddie’s only thought was to get you away from here and make sure you didn’t swallow one more drop of alcohol.

“No!” You whined like a toddler. “It’s mine! MINE!” You rattled out of his grip before scrambling out to the other room. Eddie blinked as he watched you run away. For a second, he felt like he was back in his trailer, reading The Lord of the Rings as his mind created the image of Bilbo holding the one ring and calling it his just like you did with the drink.

“MY MAN!” Steve appeared out of thin air, beaming at him with his brightest smile, pupils blown wide as the drinks had gotten to him as well. Eddie knew Steve wasn’t a smoker but he definitely had a second-hand high. “How did you get her to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Act like a human!” He laughed to himself.

Eddie wanted to protest. To say something about how this wasn’t normal behavior coming from you, and he had a right to be worried. Instead, Steve’s attention was captured by a girl calling his name. Eddie thought he recognised Nancy’s voice over the music but everything was blurred out.

When his gaze turned back around to land on what was going inside the dining room, his eyes went wide.You were dancing on top of the table, if it wasn’t clear that you were drunk out of your mind, it certainly was now.

Tommy and the rest of the crowd that had formed around the table were all cheering for you to continue. You threw the empty beer can into the crowd as you continued to dance; Eddie questioned for a second how you had changed drinks so fast before quickly pushing past students to reach you.

“What are you doing!? Get down!” He tried to grab your leg but you swatted his hands away.

“NO!” You screamed, giggling to yourself as you swung your body from side to side.

You wanted to twirl to the beat of the music. Sober you was already not very good at twirls, meaning that drunk you’s sense of balance was completely nonexistent. You tripped on your own feet, making you fall right off the table and luckily for you, right into Eddie’s arms.

If you were sober, you would have felt as though it was straight of a fairytale.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine!” You scoffed, scrambling away from him to stand up. The second you were standing on your own and Eddie removed his hand from your back, you stumbled backwards again.

“You’re not fine,” his tone became serious, a frown painted his features as he fully took in your state. He could see the way your limbs fell limp and lazy, how your alcohol filled eyes looked around the room. “C’mon,” he grabbed your shoulders to help you move through the crowd.

You made movements to get away from him, making you turn around in his arms and face him. “I don’t need your help,” you whined as you lightly hit his chest, the impact doing absolutely nothing to stop him.

“Yeah, you do,” he looked down at you, trying not to get lost in the galaxy of your eyes as you peered up at him with your drunken glare. “Let’s get you out of here, ok?” He almost whispered, his tone soft and soothing as his thumb rubbed circles on your shoulder.

The air outside was cold; a stark contrast to the oppressing and sauna-like temperature inside the house. The quiet, cool nature felt nice as the music muffled into barely recognizable lyrics when the door closed behind the two of you.

A few people had taken the party outside. Some smoking on the grass or chatting as they sat on the hood of their cars, enjoying the quieter parts of the evening.

Eddie’s hand secured on your hip as he helped you walk in a straight line towards the other side of the garden to a small patio far off from the noise and commotion the night had to offer.

“This is so patronizing,” you complained as he continued to hold you.

“Leave it to you to use big words when you’re blitzed,” he laughed.

You made a sudden move to walk faster, making you tumble out of his hand and onto the grass, giggling to yourself as you did.

Eddie grabbed your waist, lifting you back up to sit you down on one of the dark green iron garden chairs, and only when he was sat down next to you that he realized how romantic the scene was.

The table was placed at the center of a wooden pergola, wisteria twisting with its pillars and in between the planks of the ceiling. Everything was so quiet. The party barely a whisper in the vast, beautiful garden. The outdoor lights lit your features just enough for him to see and defined the color of your eyes.

Eddie sighed to himself. In any other circumstance, he would have died to stand there with a girl like you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You giggled as you fully rested your head against the palm of your hand.

“Like what?” Eddie tweaked his head to the side. Maybe he was staring at you for a bit too long.

“Like that!” You pointed out again, smiling to yourself.

“Because you’re pretty,” he knew you wouldn’t remember this, but at that moment, he didn’t care.

You laughed, a sweet sound that dripped from your lips like honey and made Eddie’s heart melt.

“Well, you’re not so bad yourself,” he watched the look in your eyes change as you scanned his features. Drunken you remembering the curve of his nose, to the way his lips hooked into a smile. "You have very pretty eyes, you know? They look a bit like doe,” you blurted out, smiling at him with a gooey grin.

Suddenly you felt all the alcohol begin to surge. The rapid onslaught of nausea confused you, furrowing your brows and causing immediate concern. Before you knew it, you were leaning down, throwing up onto his black converse.

"Jesus!" Eddie abruptly stood up, sighing when he realized no words he could say would change the state you were in. His hand found a way to your hair, gently rubbing your scalp in poor attempts to hold it away from your face as you continued throwing up.

"Hmm," You groaned once you lifted yourself back up, resting your head against your palm.

It hadn’t even phased you––what you had just done.

"I think it's time to take you home," Eddie stood up, chuckling when another protesting groan left your lips. "C'mon, party girl," he hooked his arm around your torso, wrapping your arm over his shoulders.

“I don’t want to go home,” you said sadly, taking Eddie by surprise when he felt you melt into his embrace; your arms fully wrapping themselves around him.

“I don’t want to go home,” you pleaded again, your tone more desperate as you looked up at him, your chin resting on his torso. “Please, don’t bring me back there.”

Going home would make your fight with Steve too real and you couldn’t handle that right now.

Eddie managed to walk you back to his van, patting your knee once he had buckled your seat belt.

“Wait!” You called out when he was about to close the passenger door. “Don’t leave me alone!”

“I’m not leaving you, sweetheart,” the nickname rolling off his lips would have made your heart leap in your chest if your mind wasn’t so fuzzy. “I’m going to get in the car from the other side, ok?”

“Mhm,” your voice fell quiet, your gaze falling down to your hands where you toyed with the sleeves of his hoodie.

When Eddie was in his seat, he felt your eyes on him. With every movement he made, you watched. The way he lifted his arm to buckle his seatbelt, his hand turning the key to start the van… he saw from the corner of his eye as you viewed him with all your focus.

“Who’s watching who now?” He smirked as he started the engine, carefully driving through the maze of sloppily parked cars before he was back on the main road.

“I wasn’t,” you turned your gaze away like a cat pretending they hadn’t just pushed a glass off a table, letting your focus be busy with something else from the decor in an old maid’s kitchen.

Eddie chuckled at your reaction.

“How about we go pick somethin’ up to eat? Get some food in your system so you sober up?”

“Works with me,” you molded in the seat, toying with the hoodie strings that had gone uneven. You closed your eyes as you let yourself get swayed by the vehicle, humming a familiar tune when the silence became too much.

His breath caught in his throat the second he recognized it.

Eddie knew that song.

In fact he knew it very well––he was the one who wrote it.

He smiled as your angel voice filled the car. Eddie thought he was going to collapse at the thought of someone other than Corroded Coffin members knowing this song. Even better, the thought of you knowing it sent him to paradise.

The bright colors of the fast food restaurant lit up the whole car. The neon 24/7 sign standing tall on top of the square building, Eddie scanned the menu as he broke the van beside the machine.

“What do you want?”

“Fries please,” you murmured, blinking softly at the bright lights.

“Alright,” you closed your eyes at the sound of his voice. Your foggy mind barely understood what else he had ordered beside a fry and a coke.

You were coming in and out of sleep by the time Eddie had parked in a quiet street on the heights of Hawkins. It wasn’t much of a view but it was the prettiest one you had around here.

“You alright?” He chuckled as he watched you open your eyes again, struggling to blink sleep away.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and before you could fall back asleep Eddie was handing you a coke and your fries. You struggled to remove your seat belt before shifting in your seat and grabbing the food.

“Thank you,” you sighed before taking a sip, the sweet fizzing drink waking you up instantly.

“No problem,” he smiled as he watched you. You seemed like you were in your own little bubble; still very drunk but better than minutes prior.

“I really didn’t take you for a ‘getting absolutely trashed’ type of girl.”

“I’m not,” you mumbled as you chewed on a fry.

“Then why did you do it?” He crossed his arms.

“Because it’s normal,” you spat the word out like venom. “It’s what people expect of me apparently.”

“Since when do you do anything that people expect you to do?” Eddie turned his body to fully face you.

You shrugged before looking down at your food, “since my own brother thinks I'm a terrible person…"

Ah.

There.

He had hit the bullseye. Steve had gotten to you. And it seemed like he hadn’t been kind because Eddie saw the way your eyes dimmed at the mention of Steve.

"I don’t think you are,” he shook his head. “But I thought you liked being perceived as mean and scary?"

"I do," you hiccuped, placing the coke in the cupholder of the van’s door. "At least I did until Steve was an ass and called me a bitch and well… he made it known how he feels about me. I’m just a thorn in his side." Eddie could see your eyes starting to water as you stared down at your fries. All the filters that being sober you may have put up came tumbling down with your tears.

It was hard to be vulnerable when you spent years perfecting invulnerability.

You sniffed and a small sob escaped your lips. Eddie's heart shattered with it.

"Wh–what I said in the car last time, about feeling confident," you wiped your cheek with the sleeve of the sweatshirt. "I think he took it and crushed the last of it these past few weeks. This tonight… it was just the icing on the goddamn cake."

"Is that why you were so surprised I asked you out?" He didn't know why he said it, but he felt his heart ache as he did.

You nodded.

And you took his heart in your hands as you did. Smothering it, crushing it with the knowledge he held and nourished that could only harm you more.

"Yeah," your voice came out hoarse. "Most guys are scared of me or just want to be friends with Steve… He’s just so… great. Steve is so perfect. I'm just the loser who scares people off," Eddie frowned at what you said. Watching you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. "It's so stupid," you whispered.

"What do you mean?" He asked, careful with his words.

"Tommy Hagan…" Eddie's frown deepened at the name. "Freshman year," you sniffed as you crossed your arms, "we dated for a month until I realized he only did it to get close to Steve. He was cheating on me with Carol." Eddie's eyes widened. "No one really knows though," you frowned too. "He wanted to keep it a secret and just hang out as friends. Should have known." You sighed, blinking a few times before placing your fries on the side and wiping both your eyes with your sleeves.

"Is that why you started that shell?"

"Yeah," you nodded, your head still feeling dizzy from the alcohol and the tension from the tears.

"Well, he and your brother are assholes."

"Tell me about it," you smiled, turning around so the side of your head rested against the headrest. Your glossy eyes met his as the shallow light from Hawkins eked into the van.

High above the town, in a beat up, poorly kept van that smelt of weed, nothing felt vulnerable in that moment.

You didn't know if it was the feeling of the alcohol still coursing through your veins, or the way Eddie was looking at you––his doe eyes holding in so much softness and compassion––much more than you had ever felt in years.

Before you knew it, words left your lips, mumbling into the short silence:

"You're pretty,” the way his features changed as he smiled made you smile too. It's as if his eyes sparkled every time he did, the way he slowly registered the meaning of it when a short laugh tumbled out. Eddie was happy the car was barely lit because a blush had spread its way across his nose.

"And you're drunk."

"Not that drunk" you stated, a tear filled giggle echoing through the space.

“I said it earlier, but you’re pretty too.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, and Eddie liked it ten times better than the frown you had seconds prior.

You sighed before grabbing your coke and taking a new sip, the drink washing the bare minimum of your pain and sadness away.

You spent the next hour talking about nothing and everything as you finished the rest of your order. The more you spoke the more he could see the tension washing away from you, and the alcohol slowly dissipating from your system.

He could see that by the end, you were trying not to fall asleep on him. The night had already been long and emotional enough that your eyes were closing without your consent.

"C'mon, let's get you home, Harrington."

“Hmm,” you barely had the strength to nod, Eddie smiling when a yawn escaped you, making him yawn just seconds after.

The engine starting broke the quiet of the empty streets, like a familiar melody that was stuck replay until the van would come to a halt. The green dragon proudly standing on the dash nodding his head up and down as the van moved along the road.

The stars were bright, with not a cloud to hide them, and Eddie could see the moon in the distance of the road. It was the perfect setting, and for a fleeting moment he actually imagined what it would be like to be with you.

Actually be in a relationship with you. With no stupid deals made over a popular rich kid’s tantrum.

He imagined what it would feel like to hold your hand without the burning reminder that this was never meant to be real; or Imagined what it would feel like to cup your cheek and run his thumb across it before locking your lips into a kiss.

He wondered what it would feel like to have you in his arms, laying across his chest as he read you The Fellowship of the Ring––his favorite of the trilogy.. Reading the pages that were so dear to him until your eyes closed and your breath became shallow. Until you fell into the dream world and escaped the chaotic mess that life could be in this little town.

All the sudden he wanted to dance with you to his favorite ballads, take you on roadtrips that lead to festivals and golden moments where you got to see your favorite artists live. He wanted to see the sparks in your eyes when Axl Rose started singing and Slash took over with his guitar solo; or how you would scream with him when Angus Young and the rest of AC/DC entered the stage and would take you to another planet for the evening.

But at the end of the day, the money was still buried at the bottom of his jean pocket.

The green bills he swore had morphed into poisonous objects worthy of the worst fantasy villain. Money was Sauron. Money was plaguing the land that wished to be enriched by kindness and goodness and love. Steve’s never-ending funds had become a curse to that sacred land––himself––and now broiled in its controversy, Eddie knew not how to return to normal or understand how good could ever come from something so ridiculous.

The faces of the founding fathers turned into monsters like the ones he wrote about for his campaigns.

The familiar forest road that led to your house was more of a reminder that this wasn’t supposed to be real and never would be; that this was just a stupid deal made over a greedy whim.

Eddie was greeted by the same trees that stood tall along the edges and the same fences to define property lines. The van came to a halt at the same spot he had parked in exactly one week prior. Before the headlights turned off with the engine and darkness washed over the scene, he caught a glimpse of the neighbor's cat perched high up at the exact spot he saw him last. His large yellow eyes mocking Eddie before the faint light source coming from your neighbors driveway made him become only but a shadow.

He could barely see your closed eyes and even breaths when he turned to you, yet his heart twisted in his chest again.

Eddie was falling in love and he knew that was bad. Terrible even.

Eddie had taken the deal for money.

Extra cash to afford things he hadn’t had the privilege to buy in the past. Eddie jumped into the deal with no other thoughts or possible outcomes. He just knew you as that one hot girl who fought anyone who tried to drag her into the neat boxes people created for themselves due to the fear of being different, and never in the entire time that he had passed you in Hawkin’s middle or high school had he labeled you anything more.

Eddie did not take the deal to meet the girl he never even knew could exist. He never knew it actually existed right there in front of him the entire time. He didn’t take the deal to suddenly feel empty at the thought of you not being by his side, or feel doomed at the thought of you knowing the reasons why he came to talk to you on that random Tuesday afternoon. Eddie never expected that the girl the Hellfire club had labeled as ‘hot but aggressive’ would steal his heart.

A heart that was never on the market in the first place.

A deep sigh escaped Eddie’s lips as he scanned your figure. Trying to remember the most he could in the dim light peering from outside the car’s windows.

You looked like an angel.

And the butterflies lodged in his stomach went crazy the more he stared. Eddie never wanted to forget the way your hair fell, any attempts to groom it gone with the night’s adventures. You looked so peaceful, with his hoodie comfortably wrapped around you, he had never known someone could look so comfortable in the seat of his shitty van.

What he was feeling was overwhelming. It made him want to throw the money out of the window and scream the ache away. Curse the skies as to why he had never noticed you before.

But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he took a breath and leaned in. He didn’t want to wake you but he didn’t have a choice. The peaceful bubble had to be popped. Sleeping beauty had to be awakened from her curse.

But instead of her prince, it was a messy metalhead teenager who was only sitting beside her because of a deal. A deal Eddie had made with your brother––who hurt you with cutting words he knew not to be true.

With the pads of his fingers, calloused from years of playing guitar, Eddie delicately reached to move a strand of hair away from your face.

Maybe the touch was too gentle because it didn’t do anything to wake you.

“Hey,” his voice was careful, his hand reaching your shoulder and gently rubbing circles on it.

“Hmm,” you hummed, slightly moving as his hand jostled you carefully.

“Y/n, we're here,” Eddie gently squeezed your shoulder and this time you made a bigger movement. Your eyes squeezing tightly before you opened them to be met with Eddie’s eyes peering out to you in the darkness.

“Hmmm,” it was a hum that accompanied a stretch. “ Where are we?” You blinked, rubbing your eyes with the knuckles of your index fingers.

“At your house.”

“Already?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Already.”

“Okay,” you said it quietly. A world of emotions swept back under the carpet as you stretched your arms and yawned, Eddie admiring each of your movements.

“I’ll walk you home.”

“What a gentleman,” you smirked tiredly before pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt, already bracing yourself from the cold that would meet you once you opened the door.

Eddie strutted around the front of the car to get to you. The second he was close you leaned in, stuffing your head in the crook of his neck and groaned in an attempt to voice your frustration.

“I’m dreading going back,” you mumbled against his shirt. It didn’t take Eddie long to wrap his arms around your shoulders.

“It will be alright.”

“I hope so…” the thought of seeing Steve at breakfast tomorrow haunted you.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like this. Leaning into Eddie, your hands around his torso as you tried to ease your pain away.

You were tired. Really tired, and already felt the hints of the hangover you’d have the next morning.

That’s probably why you needed his comfort. These odd emotions that came fluttering back started to become comforting. Being in Eddie’s arms made you forget that it was the middle of the night and you were standing in front of his beat up van parked at the crossroad between your home and your neighbor’s. All you could think of was that a sense of comfort you had never gotten the chance to feel before was filling every bit of you. As if just the feeling of his arms around you was enough to make your pain disappear.

“We should get you home,” of course he had to break the silence.

You nodded and felt his hands gently rub your back before they fell back at his side. You instantly missed his warmth, the hoodie becoming all you had left of him on you.

The gravel passage was still the same as Eddie remembered from a week before. Nothing but maybe a few new flowers and leaves scattered on the earth’s floor. He dodged the same branches, passed by the same rose bush he had stolen from until the fence of your house changed from tall, strong wood to soft wires that could bend with barely any force.

“Thank you,” you turned around to face him. Only the moon lighting up his features through the trees. “For everything,” you looked away, almost ashamed. “I was an idiot tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it… Every teenager has at least one stupid night under their belt,” he smiled.

Time stood still. You didn’t want to go back to the walls that still held Steve’s words. You didn’t want to leave the comfort of the boy standing in front of you.

You took a step closer, a hand making its way to his cheek. Your thumb gliding through it the same way Eddie had imagined doing to you.

The touch of your soft hand was almost too much to take in; the fire that accompanied it burning Eddie like the fires of Mount Doom.

You were leaning in and he was too despite what his head was telling him; his whole body caving in without his mind’s knowledge––his heart taking over now.

"Can I kiss you?" There. The dagger had been planted right to his heart.

His mind jolted to your state of mind.

His mind jolted to the chill of the early morning.

His mind jolted to the money that burned a hole through his body.

"Not tonight, princess," he whispered, hoping you wouldn't catch the strain in his voice as he said it. Hoping that in these three words you wouldn't cause a tumble of emotions to lead you down a worse path in self-love. Eddie did not want you to figure out how conflicted he was feeling, nor did he want you to think Steve was somehow right.

He watched as your face changed. Confusion written in your eyes before it changed to something he didn’t know how to decipher.

Your hand fell from his cheek, Eddie instantly felt lost again.

“Well… I’ll see you later, I guess,” your words were as cold as ice and hard as stone.

Eddie’s entire being screamed to reach out for you. To climb the fence with you and chase you through the maze of trees until he could fix what he had done and kiss you.

Kiss you like he had dreamed of only minutes prior.

But life wasn’t as simple.

And Eddie knew he couldn’t let his heart decide this time because the green paper monsters were still screaming in his pocket.

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cherubkeery · 2 years

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I just wanna see you shine, cause I know you’re a star girl

The moment Eddie laid eyes on you, he knew he had to have you. He didn’t know what it was about you. He wasn’t sure what drew him so close to you. But he knew his heart had carved itself with your name.

“Hey Eddie!” You would say, maybe it was because you gave him the time of day. You treated him a lot better than anyone else at school.

Or it could have been the time you guys made out. It happened out of nowhere. You had come over to work on a project with him. He wasn’t doing so well in school. So you offered to help him. You guys also been paired up for English.

“It’s Shakespeare. We can do like an art piece on it. You made the hellfire shirts yourself, right?” You asked. His heart skipped a beat. If he wasn’t already head over heels for you. He was now.

“Uh yeah, how did you know?”

“Oh. Uh-.” You blushed and looked down at your notes. You had been looking at his notebook when he would doodle in it. You’ve seen all the different sketches he made instead of focusing on the class work.

“I saw your notebook. Sorry if that’s weird.” Eddie stared at you for longer than he should have. He didn’t know where the confidence came from. But next thing he knew your face was in his hands and your lips were crushed onto his.

It was like you were inhaling each other. You both ended up on the couch, you on top of him. His hands on your waist. Pulling you closer. Nothing went further then that. But it never left his mind. Once you were done with the project, you guys never really talked about that moment.

You spoke to him still, which he saw as a good sign. But it was like that moment happened in a dream.

“Hey Ed’s!” You walked up to him. The way your eyes shined, he couldn’t stop looking at them. Like little stars in the night.

“H-hey. Hey y/n.”

The boys in the hellfire club could see how smitten he was over you. It was kind of funny to watch their very eccentric dungeon master act all swoony. Eddie couldn’t help it.

You were the star in his eye. And he was going to make you his.

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you

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iloveyoumorethansoup · 2 years

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Ok so this week has been crazy busy but also one of my professors was out this week and instead of canceling we had two other professors step in (one for each class) and it was. So much more beneficial. Like incredibly so. My acting class got together and we’re like so like is it just me or do we all wish this guy was permanent?

#so with my acting class. we do scenes and monologues but mainly more than anything we focus on technique and things like that #which yes very necessary and I do enjoy it. just not. the entire semester. it’s not theoretical acting it’s acting #also my professor tends to direct us instead of teaching but anyways there are rarely any volunteers for participation #so we’ve got this guy and he comes in and he’s like alright we’re gonna do some stuff! and we’re like yeah alright #by the end of the first class people r jumping up and sprinting to offer to do their scenes #next day?? same thing. i swear one girl teleported to the center of the room to perform #and the class ended and the sub was like see y’all around one day and we were all like bestie please promise us promise us right now #and we had like a class get together had a chat and we’re like. that was so much drastically better #my standards for teachers r very low so I kinda thought my professor was there greatest until this week when I was like ohhh I’m missing out #anyways we were like. oh wow ok so like that was so much better and actually this sucked severely before and I don’t wanna go back to that #and I’m in 2 of this professors class. the other one is voice and diction and it’s the same thing there too #we were learning ipa symbols and pronunciations for the past many weeks right?? couldn’t tell u a single thing at all #so this other professor comes in and he’s like ok so like what do y’all know bc I know ur doing this? and it’s a resounding nothing from all #so he’s like hm ok let’s give it a review. within an hour and a half of listening to him I have the entire thing completely learned #and the next day he’s talking about Shakespeare and different things and he’s like hey. we’re having auditions soon y’all should be #moving on those yeah?? someone show me one. instantly volunteers. everyone’s thrilled to be there #temp professor goes well what does ur prof do? referring to something specific I believe and this one girl #tho I don’t think she should have said it goes he does nothing. he doesnt do a thing #and she did not mean to say it instantly her hand was over her mouth and she looked so surprised #but the thing is! she was right!! i don’t mind shuffling to that class bc we literally lay on the floor and make sounds most days #most of the class found it rather funny and a few people even said they agreed #I’m curious how class is next week now that we all have a new prospective on how things should be #the class is run like someone who cares a great deal about the subject and wants to talk about it and experiment with things #rather than someone who’s teaching a course #aside from that I had 2 midterms today that I think went rather well #so it’s break time!!#life is good #soup talks

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fairyaali · 3 years

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hello love! Can I please request a somewhat spicy sub!chat noir x reader? Maybe where the reader is kinda feeling him up and leaving him hickeys and he’s a purring and moaning mess? Maybe he’s begging her to keep going and who is she to say no to such a sweet baby kitty? If that’s not too much of course😌 tysm

Hello bb ! I hope that this satisfied your sub! Chat needs hehe (i know it satisfied mine so) I really love how this came out and maybe i’m willing on continuing another part from here) Thank you so much for this request ! <3

Pairing: Chat Noir X Reader

Warnings: NSFW, characters are aged up in college here :), swearing.

Tags: Sub!chat, Dry humping, begging.

This is how it all went down. He saved you from an akumatized villain. He flirted. You flirted back. Then you guys started hooking up.

You didn’t understand why Chat Noir would do this with a civilian but like every other person on this planet, he has his needs. He would knock in a pattern on your window so you knew it was him and you would let him in, you’d talk for a bit, ask each other about your day until one of you breaks and pushes the other on the bed or against the wall. He was good in bed. Very good. You knew you’d never grow tired of this affair. To top it all off after you both finished you’d sit in bed and talk about all sorts of things. Aliens, Conspiracy theories about the media, gossip about people and sometimes he’d even play Mario Kart with you.

There were no strings attached. You both made it clear from day one. There couldn’t be. You both didn’t have the time for a relationship, you both didn’t have the energy for one so you simply stuck to the title ‘fuck buddies’ until one of you decides to back out. This night was different though. A smile didn’t appear on your face when you hear the familiar knock on your window because you were stuck cussing at your computer screen and rubbing your head in frustration. You had an essay to explain Shakespeare and his works but for some reason you kept deleting all that you’ve typed because you couldn’t put your thoughts into words.

He knocked again, quickly this time. “I know you’re there, beautiful.” His voice was muffled through the glass.

You huffed and put your laptop on the bed before stomping to the window. You opened it and were met by the hero grinning at you. You, on the other hand, didn’t have a pleased look on your face.

“I’m not in the mood Chat.” You state and were about to close the window again but he held it to stop you from closing it.

“Ma Belle, did I do something wrong?” He asks, a frown on his face.

You shake your head. “No, I just have this stupid essay that I’ve been trying to type out for the past four hours.” You sigh and make your way back to your bed, rubbing your temples.

He follows you inside and closes the window behind him.

“Maybe I can ease your stress for a little bit.” He says, a smirk on his face.

You simply shoot him a glare and he chuckles nervously, putting his hands up in defense.

“Okay. No sex. Got it.” He sits beside you and looks at what you’re typing.

“You know you can leave right? If you’re horny you can go to your other side bitches.” You say as you type away, your eyes glued onto your screen.

Chat purses his lips, like he held himself back from saying something and shook his head.

“Maybe I came here for some company.” He says.

You snort and chuckle. “Yeah right.” You say sarcastically and look at him, but he wasn’t smiling. You gulp and your smile fades away. Did he seriously come over because he feels lonely?

His face was leaning closer to your and you were leaning closer too. No. You had to finish this stupid essay.

“Stop distracting me kitty.” You whisper and kiss his nose quickly before looking back at the screen.

He groans and falls back on the bed, playing with the pillow.

“I can help you if you’re writing about Shakespear, I wro-“ He stops himself from talking and you turn around, quirking your eyebrow at him.

“You wrote an essay like this?” you questioned.

He visibly gulps and shakes his head.

“Do you go to college?” You question further.

He chuckles nervously. “You know I can’t tell you that mon ange.”

You stare at him for a moment before looking back at your screen. You decided not to pry further, he seemed uncomfortable talking about his personal life and you decided to respect his wishes.

Your phone started to ring and you see that it’s your friend from college Marinette. You pick it up.

“Hey Mari.” You say as you type.

“The deadline has been changed to next week!” She exclaims happily.

You were filled with rage.

“what?” You deadpanned.

“Yeah apparently some students asked to change it because they were having difficulties so he changed it to next week instead of tomorrow morning.”

“I literally asked him to extend the deadline three days ago and he refused. I swear to god I want to kill this son of a bitch” You groan and clutch your fist in anger.

She sighs, “I know girl, but hey at least you’ve got more time on your hands!”

Marinette always tried to be positive when she could and you appreciated that but honestly you needed to vent. “Yeah, thanks for letting me know Mari.”

“No problem! Bonne nuit.”

“Bonne nuit.” You sigh out before you end the call.

You groan out in frustration and shut your laptop.

“What happened?” Chat asks.

You get out of your bed and start to pace around.

“I have been working on this essay for the past four days, knowing very well how stupid it was that the deadline was only five days for a two thousand word essay on fucking Shakespeare and when I ask to extend the deadline, the son of a bitch replies with an angry email saying theres enough time and that im just lazy.” You finally breathe and chat was about to say something but you cut him off.

“But when his privileged French pupil ask him to extend the deadline of course he agrees and you know what, I think it was Adrien fucking Agreste who asked him because hes the fucking pretty model boy who has everybody on their knees for him just because of his high status.” You sit down and without realising you start talking about a different subject.

“Yeah, I get it, everybody wants to fuck the pretty blond guy with money, I would too but at least I don’t look like a thirsty bitch every time he talks to me, some girls in my damn college have literally no chill and I swear to god one day I want to make him my bitch, make him weak for me to show those bitches what i’m capable of.” You were breathing heavily at this point and your face was flushed red.

You always thought Adrien was attractive, everyone did but whenever he talked to you, you responded normally to him unlike other people who constantly laughed at everything he said to try and get in his pants. He was a good guy but he was too well known for his own good and it made you uninterested in him. You thought he was out of your league, that’s what those french bitches told you at least. They belittled you just because you’re foreign - you knew they were just jealous that Adrien was always the one to come up to talk to you unlike them.

That was enough ranting for now. You look at Chat who was staring at you wide eyed, his cheeks glowing red.

“You don’t need to say anything, it’s just-“ You look down at his body and notice something. “Chat..why are you hard?”

He crosses his legs over the other awkwardly to try and hide it. “W-What are you talking about?”

You stand up and walk over to him and he walks back until he’s pressed against the wall.

“What? You get hard thinking about me making someone weak?” You whisper to him and he looks away from you. “You want me to do the same to you kitty?” You kiss his ear and he shudders, nodding slowly. Your hand moves down from his chest to his belly and your lips move from his ear to his jaw. Chat tilts his head back and a frenzy of purrs emerge from his parted lips. He was aroused, in a state of euphoria even with your small, light touches. Your hand moved lower until it reached down to the tent he had in his suit. It was painfully tight for him. Your fingertips lightly brushed over the bulge and he cussed under his breath.

“Fuck.” He whispered while you continued to touch his clothed erection and lick up his neck. He kept purring and moaning at the same time. You loved seeing him worked up like this. Your lips latched on to a certain spot on his neck and you sucked on it harshly, nibbling at it when you got the chance and putting more pressure with your hand against him.

He was a mess, grinding against your hand and breathing heavily.

“Ma Belle – merde,” he couldn’t even speak without stuttering. “I want more, please.” He begs and you look up at him, noticing the red mark on his neck and feeling very pleased with yourself.

“More what, kitty?” You whisper and remove your hand from where it was.

He groans in frustration.

“More – I-I want you to touch me more.” He pleads. “Please.”

You smirk at him and pull him to your bed, pushing him back on the bed and getting on his lap. Before he could react you put your lips on his and start to grind on top of him.

He moans against your lips and throws his head back, holding onto your hips for support. You could tell that he wanted to take his clothes off but you wanted him to come right then and there.

Your hips move against his, the friction pleasing you the same, causing you to moan but grin at the worked up blond beneath you.

“Shit, shit I’m close.” He whimpers and closes his eyes, moving his own hips with yours to get more pleasure.

It felt so good but you knew you couldn’t finish with him, maybe you could continue after but your hopes disappeared when you heard the beeping coming from his ring.

“Mon Ange I-“

“Shut up and come for me kitty.” You groan out and quicken your movements causing him to part his lips and hold onto you.

His body shakes and he spews out cuss words in French while he comes undone, thrusting his hips up and whimpering.

You’re both breathing heavily, looking at each other both dazed and tired. You were about to lean in for another kiss but his ring starts beeping furiously.

You hop off of his lap and watch as he groans while he gets up, uncomfortably moving because of the mess he made between his legs.

“I’m sorry I cant finish you off.” He says, pouting at you.

“It’s okay Chat, I think you’ve done enough today.” You wink at him and he chuckles bashfully.

“Until next time Mon ange!” He says and opens the window.

“Bye Kitty.” You blow him a kiss and with that he’s off.

Maybe you could actually finish yourself off to the thought of him being a mess for you but before you could even do anything, your phone beeps and you see a notification from Adrien Agreste.

“Did you hear that they moved the deadline for the Shakespeare essay? Pissed me off tbh.”

It was like he knew you accused him of something and to top it all off this was the first time he’s ever really texted you. It was weird but maybe you shouldn’t think much of it. Right?

#chat noir #chat noir x reader #adrien agreste #mlb #adrien x reader #miraculous ladybug

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almanacrat · 3 years

Text

Heaven Help Us (part 1)

Gerard Way x femReader

A/n: Yes, I am still posting Greta Van Fleet content, but I will be posting some MCR content as well bc I love them.

Warnings: Swearing and sexual innuendos. This fic is definitely 14+ and some parts will definitely be 18+

My alarm beeped, waking me up. The screeching sound reminded me of a wretched prison, foreshadowing the school day.

I grabbed my rugged Green Day shirt and pulled it over my head, stepping into my blaack jeans and putting on an oversized black jacket next. I slipped on my combat boots before grabbing a breakfast bar and heading to the door, but not before applying my dark eyeliner and mascara.

Upon getting to school, I found that most kids were already in their cliques. I padded across the school’s dewy lawn, getting my shoes wet. My boots squeaked annoyingly as I stepped on the grubby school floors. I ventured up to my locker and put the essentials in it. A few binders, some paper, and an extra lighter. I was about to close my locker when someone closed it for me. Slammed it, actually.

"Hey! What are you doing in our hallway?" A kid with black hair and hazel eyes questioned menacingly.

Don't back down, Casey. Don't do it.

"I dont see your fucking name on it, and what does it look like I'm doing, fucker?" I crossed my arms in defense.

This kid was definitely taller than me by a few inches and he had his gang behind him. One had glasses, the other was short, and the last had an afro.

"It looks like you're about to learn who this damn hallway belongs to. Usually I'm nice to new kids, but then again they usually don't mouth off to me."

“Well I guess it's your lucky day. You found someone who isn't a pushover." I sassed back, letting my bitchy side get the better of me.

"I don't know what your deal is, but listen here-" he began.

"You listen to me. I don't know what your obsession with me is, but if you want to take me to bed at least be nice." I watched the anger on his face grow.

"You little fuck!" He pushed me against the lockers, using one hand to pin my arms above my head and the other to apply pressure around my neck.

"Kinky. At least buy me dinner first." I smirked.

"You're in for it now." He growled.

"Hey, lover boy. Cool off, I never said I wasn't into it. Level with me, huh?" I smiled as he pressed down harder.

"I'm not into hitting girls, so I'm gonna let you go for now. Just know that the next time you pull something like this, it'll be the end of you." He shoved me against the locker before walking off with his friends.

This is going to be interesting. Fighting with fellow emos already.

The bell rang shortly after, sending me on my way to my first class: English. For all that I slack off, I'm actually kind of an English whiz.

"I'm going to be giving you guys a worksheet. It is about Shakespeare, and you'll need to find the answers yourself, although you are allowed to work with a partner." The teacher announced before going back to the lounge at her desk.

Great. Work on the first day. I glanced at the kid next to me. I was pretty sure it was one of the kids in the hallway with that guy earlier. I finished the worksheet in less than two minutes while I noticed others struggling.

"Hey, do you need this?" I said quietly to the kid next to me while sliding over my worksheet.

"Uhh, yeah. Thanks." He replied.

"No problem."

"I'm Mikey, by the way. Mikey Way."

"I'm Casey Abrams."

"Sorry about my brother earlier..." Mikey trailed off.

"That was your brother?"

"Yeah. He gets like that" he scratched the back of his neck.

"It's fine. Nothing new." I gave him a half smile.

I met up with Mikey in the hallway as I headed to lunch. We talked about different things like music and I found out he played the bass. He was a pretty cool guy, and I definitely felt like we would be friends.

"I'm gonna eat outside. I'll see you later though?" I offered a small smile.

"Why don't you come sit with me?" Mikey asked with wondering eyes.

"Your brother and I aren't besties at the moment." I explained to him, but he got the hint pretty quickly.

"Oh...yeah." He said, looking disappointed.

"I'll be fine, Mikes. I needed some fresh air anyways." I gave him a reassuring smile and elbowed him lightly.

"Okay. I dont think we have any more classes together so I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure, bye Mikey."

He waved bye and as I was turning around I noticed his brother glaring at me. I went on my way and ate my lunch, then doodled until the bell rang again. I had always liked art, especially when it wasn’t in a classroom setting. I was pretty good at art, sure, but I found that art teachers always tried to make you do it a certain way. Art doesnt belong in a box. It can be whatever you want it to be. It can be a bunch of scribbles that look like shit, but as long as it truly means something to you, it’s art.

I headed to the art room. The vibrant green grass and looming trees turned to linoleum floors and beige walls rotting under the fluorescent light. The more hallways I turned down, the more I felt like I was caught in a modern labyrinth. I walked into the art room and the smell of paint, clay, and expo markers immediately flooded my nostrils. I set my stuff down on the desk when a fist slammed violently on my desk, making me flinch against my will.

"What did I tell you about getting in my way again?" Mikey's brother boomed.

I stared back blankly, I didn't know what I had done to him this time.

"Dont fucking look at me like that. You know what I'm getting at. Why are you all buddy buddy with my fucking brother, huh? What's your deal?" He raged.

I still stared back at him, dumbstruck.

"Forget how to talk? You seemed to have some quite clever responses this morning. What happened to that?" He taunted.

"Is being friends with Mikey really a problem, or did you just need an excuse to talk to me, Romeo?" I shot back, glaring at him.

"Excuse me?" He was clearly taken aback when I didn’t cry at his threats.

Just then, the teacher walked in, slamming the door and beginning class. The whole time the threatening boy kept glaring at me. I flipped him off from under the desk, causing him to get even angrier. He clenched his pencil with white knuckles, almost snapping it from how much force he was squeezing it with.

When the school day ended I shoved some papers in my locker and went to go down the stairs, but not before I could be stopped by a jock. After trying to get by him to no avail, and him tormenting me, I realized this would end in a fight, which it did. He threw a punch which I dodged. I kicked him in the side and threw a few hits of my own. I kickbox, which no one expects, resulting in most of my victories. I ran down the stairs before he could get back up and hid around the corner until I was sure he wasn't coming after me. I headed to my kickboxing studio to blow off some steam. I couldn’t stop thinking about the violent boy from this morning, Mikey’s brother. At this time of day the studio was pretty much vacant, so I liked going. It was in a half abandoned mall a few miles down the road. Wrappers littered the parking lot, and the ghost of an old plastic bag floated through the air, bumbling through trees and bushes before finally getting caught on a branch. The smell of stale, greasy diner food permeated the air, causing a subtle nauseous feeling to wash over me.

Halfway through my workout I noticed some kids outside the window smoking. This was normal, but it was Mikey and his brother's gang. I continued to workout, but I noticed them stealing glances at me. I was. In a sports bra and leggings. I finished my final few kicks and punches before taking off my gloves and putting them in a bag, which I slung over my shoulder. I noticed Mikey's brother and the short one were gone. I exited the building after freshening up.

"Hey, Mikey." I greeted.

"Hey, Casey. I didn't know you do boxing." Mikey replied, seeming a bit nervous.

"Yeah, it's fun. You should try it out sometime."I smiled.

"Oh, um, this is Ray Toro." Mikey introduced me.

"Sick. Nice to meet you." I spoke.

"Yeah, you too. Cigarette?" He replied, holding out a small stick in between his fingers.

"Yeah, thanks, man." I took it from him and lit it, blowing the smoke from my lungs, glad to feel the familiar, subtle burn of the hot smoke.

After smoking and chatting for a bit I heard some distant voices and turned around to see the other two walking our way. They kicked rocks that were in their path, scattering them across the parking lot. The two of them were laughing and joking until they saw me. Mikey’’s brother gave the other one a nudge and a nod toward me, silencing him. Their posture got a bit more intimidating as they walked with more anger.

"It was nice hanging but it looks like this is my cue to go." I told Mikey, getting on my motorbike.

They said their farewells as I started the engine, getting a heavy stare from his brother on my way out. The little tingle in my stomach didn't go away for a few minutes after seeing Mikey’s brother. Sure, he was a bully, but God, he was gorgeous.

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soobmint · 4 years

Text

voices | choi beomgyu [f] soulmates! au, 14.2k words

s u m m a r y : after seeing your soulmate for the first time (whether in passing or by actually meeting them), you are able to hear their voice in your head—but only when they are singing. you have never been very interested in finding love, and choi beomgyu has lost all interest in singing. what happens when the two of you begin to change one another’s minds about the things you wish to avoid more than anything else?

c o n t e n t s : soulmates au, strangers to sorta enemies to lovers, guitarist! gyu, freckle gyu, college au, yeonjun is your best friend, gyu is a brat but a cute brat, very fluffy, a tiny bit of light angst

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @chanluster @honeyju @magicalstellar @yeonjuniper (if you’d like to be added to the taglist for future oneshots, please let me know!)

n o t e : this was requested by my dear friend alice, and i hope i did the request justice! the lyrics used in the oneshot are from genius’ english translation of “runaway.” i hope you guys enjoy the oneshot, and do kindly leave a like, comment, or reblog if you enjoyed it! that would mean the world!

YOU MET CHOI BEOMGYU THE DAY YOU SWORE TO NEVER FALL IN LOVE.

As dramatic as it sounded, the day hadn’t been quite so terrible. You were sitting cross-legged in the floor of one of the many practice rooms in your university’s music department with a bag of popcorn in your lap, your head leaned back against the wall as you stifled back a yawn. Your best friend, Yeonjun, was going on and on about his most recent breakup, but the story was so similar to all the other breakups he had gone through in the past two years that you were having a difficult time staying focused. The afternoon sunlight trickled in through the windows, reflecting off the symbols of the drum set that rested in the far corner. You scooted to the side a bit so that the light wouldn’t shine in your eyes anymore as Yeonjun paced back and forth in front of you.

“And then she just stopped talking to me,” He said, running his hands through his hair. “Out of nowhere too! Things had been going so well, but then it was weird. Next thing I know, she’s breaking up with me—get this—over text.”

You tossed a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “Tragic.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but yes, it was tragic.” He finally stopped pacing and collapsed to the ground beside of you, leaning his head against your shoulder. “Love is so hard. You meet someone, you think it’s going to work and that you’ll spend a long, happy life together. Next thing you know, you’re single and stuck with your best friend in a stinky music room, waiting for some club meeting to start—or whatever it is we’re in here for.”

“We’re here because we are in charge of organizing the music and theater departments’ performance at the open house next month,” You corrected, flicking his forehead. “And didn’t you only date this girl for like, a week?”

He sighed, sitting up to glare at you. “Love knows not the boundaries of time, my dear friend. You’ll understand once you find it for yourself.”

“Calm down, Shakespeare. I am not falling in love.”

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t think you have any control over that,” He said with a teasing smile. “But why wouldn’t you want to?”

You scoffed, turning to stare at him. “Well, for starters, you haven’t exactly given me a good idea of what ‘love’ is supposed to be, seeing as you’re crying about another ‘true-love-gone-wrong’ every three weeks. Why on earth would I want that for myself?”

“Hey, love is different for everyone,” He said. “Just because my love life is vibrant and exciting and full of various names and faces doesn’t mean the same will happen for you.”

“How do you predict my love life will go, then?”

He hummed, tapping his finger against his chin in thought. “Well, you’re pretty boring, so you’ll probably be the kind of person that waits until they find their soulmate, then you’ll settle down and live a long, safe and uneventful life with them.”

“Shut up,” you said as you shoved him, but you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of you. “I think my soulmate is out of the question, though.”

Yeonjun frowned. “You still haven’t heard him since back then?”

You sighed, shaking your head as you leaned back against the wall. “Not a thing.”

It was quiet then as the two of you thought about what this meant. It wasn’t the first time you had been faced with the reality of your situation, but it still felt like a punch to the stomach every time.

In a world where people waited years, decades even, to hear the voice of their soulmate singing in their head, you had been considered extremely lucky to have heard the gentle voice of a boy in your mind at the age of thirteen. You knew that you had to have met him somewhere—at least in passing—in order to hear him, but you had no clue who he was.

Yet, in a way, it felt like you did. He sang often—so often you wondered if singing was as necessary as breathing to him. It wasn’t a bother to you though; in fact, it was quite the opposite. The songs he sang always told a story; some spoke of love and joy, others off loss and heartache. You felt like each song he sang held a piece of him, and that piece was something that was shared just between the two of you.

Until his voice was gone.

It was rare for him to go a day without singing. Yet suddenly, in your sophomore year of college, days and weeks went by without a single note, and you had yet to hear his voice since.

Your soulmate had stopped singing, and it was difficult to not imagine that the worst had happened.

Yeonjun must have noticed the solemn look that came over your face, because he leaned over and gave your shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t be so gloomy,” he said. “He could still be out there.”

You smiled the best you could, although the pit in your stomach remained. “Yeah, I guess he could.” You tossed the popcorn to Yeonjun and stood to your feet, wiping the crumbs from your hands. “Wait here, okay? The other guy that’s supposed to be helping us is—” You paused to glance at the time on your phone, “—ten minutes late. I’m gonna make sure he knows where to come or see if he’s lost or something.”

Yeonjun nodded, helping himself to what was left of your snack. “Who is the other guy, anyway?”

You sighed, picking up the piece of paper that the department head gave to you when she asked you to organize the showcase, claiming that it would be a great deal of experience for you to acquire in your senior year of university.

You were mostly doing it for the extra credit points.

You began to read the names of the seniors that were in charge of organizing the project listed at the top of the paper. “From the drama department, Choi Yeonjun and Kang Taehyun.”

“Taehyun had an appointment,” Yeonjun said through a mouthful of popcorn. “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

You nodded, tracing your finger along the page, stopping beneath the next pair of names. “From the music department, Y/N and Choi Beomgyu.” You looked up from the paper, tapping your forefinger against your chin. “Choi Beomgyu? Do you know him?”

Yeonjun pondered for a moment before snapping his fingers. “Ah—that guy!” You weren’t surprised; Yeonjun seemed to know everyone in the performing arts programs at your school. “He’s one of the top guitar students, if I’m remembering correctly. Have you not heard of him?”

You shook your head, looking back down at his name. Choi Beomgyu. It did sound familiar, but no images or information came along with the words printed on the page. It was nothing more than a tugging feeling in your stomach that made you feel like you knew him from somewhere.

You began walking towards the door, still staring down at the paper. Just as the tips of your fingers brushed across the metal handle, the door swung open, and you barely had time to glance up and see a head of fluffy black hair and big brown eyes before the door crashed into your forehead so hard you fell backwards to the tile floor.

With a hiss, you brought your hand up to your forehead, relieved to find a lack of blood there. Your eyes were blurred with tears, but through the fog you were able to see the same round doe eyes you had caught a glimpse of before you hit the ground.

“Are you okay?” It was a guy’s voice, clear and ringing in your ears. You rubbed your eyes to clear some of the moisture and were then able to get a better look at the boy in front of you. Curly black bangs hung over his brows, brushing just over the tops of his wide chocolate eyes. His sun-kissed skin was sprinkled with a light spatter of freckles across his nose and lightly flushed cheeks.

You blinked several times before responding. “Y-yeah, I’m okay.” You accepted his hand when he offered to help you stand back up, and soon, you were on your feet once more.

“Sorry about that,” he said, brushing a hand through his already tousled hair. He leaned forward a bit, tapping his finger against your forehead. “Just got a tiny bump, though. You’ll be okay.”

You backed away from his touch, but he didn’t seem to notice as he had caught sight of Yeonjun. Your best friend was quite literally on the edge of his seat, perched on the ledge of the desk while shoveling the last crumbs of popcorn into his mouth as if this were some movie unfolding before his eyes. If you had been close enough, you would have hit him.

“Yeonjun?” Door Boy’s face lit up, and he strode over to give your pink-haired friend a high five. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Hey, man,” Yeonjun said with a grin, ruffling Door Boy’s curly hair with his fingers. “I know, it’s been way too long.”

“I’m sorry, who’s this?” You asked, still a bit dazed from your unexpected collision with the door.

Yeonjun looked back at you, gesturing to the newcomer. “Oh, this is—”

“Choi Beomgyu,” he finished the introduction himself, giving you an overdramatic bow as he said his name. “And you must be Y/N?”

Things were beginning to click together in your head: Door Boy was Choi Beomgyu. In other words, Door Boy was your assigned partner—the one you would be spending the next four weeks trying to plan a performance with.

For some reason, the fact that you had met one another by him slamming a door into your face didn’t leave the best feeling in your chest.

“I look forward to working with you, Y/N.” He gave you a big, lopsided grin, one that any other person would likely find heartwarming.

You forced a smile in return, rubbing your hand across the bump on your forehead. “Same here, Choi Beomgyu.”

PERHAPS IT HAD A BIT TO DO WITH HOW POORLY YOUR FIRST MEETING WENT, BUT SOMETHING ABOUT BEOMGYU REALLY GOT UNDER YOUR SKIN.

The day after you had first met one another, Yeonjun had asked everyone to meet up in the coffee shop inside the campus library. This time, Taehyun from the drama department was also able to be there. You had gotten to know him pretty well over the past four years because of how close he and Yeonjun had become, so the three of you hung out often.

In fact, for the first fifteen minutes of the meeting, it was just the three of you sitting there. You pushed your tongue against the inside of your cheek in agitation before taking another sip of your coffee. “Does this Beomgyu guy have a thing for being late?”

“Relax, Y/N,” Yeonjun said absently from across the table, his attention focused primarily on his cell phone screen. “Not everyone’s a time freak like you.”

“Time freak—What does that even mean?” You crumpled up the wrapper from Taehyun’s straw and threw it at Yeonjun. “Unlike you, I actually care about getting these extra credit points and would like to organize this event properly.”

“Hey! I care!” Yeonjun placed a hand over his heart, as though he had been wounded.

You and Taehyun exchanged a side glance with one another, eyebrows raised.

“Stop looking at each other like that! I do care!”

Before the point could be argued any further, a messy-haired boy crashed into the seat beside of you, out of breath, his backpack falling from his shoulder and onto the ground from the impact. You stared at him for a moment before realizing that it was Beomgyu.

“Sorry—I’m late,” he said in between deep breaths. “On my way here—saw one of the campus cats—got distracted.”

You stared at him again, almost laughing at how ridiculous of an excuse that was. However, considering what little you knew of Beomgyu, the thought of him being fifteen minutes late to a meeting because he got distracted by a cat didn’t seem all that unlikely. With a sigh, you slid a blank piece of notebook paper towards him and set a pen on top of it. “It’s all good. Mind taking notes?”

He nodded—a bit too enthusiastically, if you were to say so yourself. “Sure. Can I grab a coffee real quick?”

You were about to suggest that he should wait until after the meeting, since the three of you had been there for such a long time already, but Taehyun chimed in before you could say anything with, “Of course. We’ve got nowhere else to be.”

It took everything within you to not roll your eyes. You were usually on the same page as Taehyun, but of course, this situation had to be an exception, because Choi Beomgyu was there.

The slacker was rummaging around his backpack, searching for something. He pouted, looking up from his bag. “I forgot my wallet.”

“No worries! Y/N doesn’t eat breakfast, so she always has an extra swipe on her meal card,” Yeonjun said from across the table. Your mouth fell open, eyes wide as saucers. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind letting you use it. Right, Y/N?”

You weren’t quite sure that you did want Beomgyu to use your meal card, but what kind of jerk would you be if you said no? With gritted teeth and a glare at your best friend, you fished your meal card out of your wallet and placed it into Beomgyu’s open palm.

The pout left his lips instantly, a big grin taking its place. “Thanks. I’ll return the favor sometime soon.”

Doubt it, you thought, watching him rush towards the counter to order. You’ll probably forget you said that by the time you get your drink.

Soon he was back at the table, caramel latte in hand, your meal card back in your possession. You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “If everyone’s ready, we can go ahead and get started. I met with my professor yesterday—she’s also the head of the classical music department. She’s technically our ‘overseer,’ but all the responsibility of planning the performance is on us. We’ll only have about forty minutes total to showcase the drama and music departments, so we need to choose our sets wisely.”

“Yeonjun and I were talking a bit about this earlier,” Taehyun said. “We’ve been preparing for our winter show since the beginning of the summer, so we figured we could just perform a scene from the play.”

You nodded, liking the idea. “That sounds perfect. What’s the play?”

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Right, I knew that. Could you guys work on finding a scene around ten or fifteen minutes long to perform for the open house, then?”

Yeonjun and Taehyun both nodded. You smiled, glad that you were finally starting to get some things together for the event.

When you glanced at Beomgyu to make sure he had written that down, the smile left as quickly as it had come when you saw that he was doodling tiny flowers and hearts all over the page rather than taking notes.

He must have felt your eyes on him, because he glanced up and caught your gaze. Seemingly unbothered, he simply smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I was just about to write it down.”

Your fingers itched to reach over and take the pen and paper from him so you could just do it yourself, but you kept your composure. “Beomgyu. Any ideas for what the music department could do?”

He finished writing down Drama Department—Scene from “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” before looking at you again. He shrugged, another nonchalant smile spreading across his face. “Not really. I’m down for whatever it is you decide to do.”

“Wow, helpful. Truly.” Your eyes went wide when you realized you had said those words out loud after Yeonjun and Taehyun began to snicker beside you. Your face flushed with embarrassment, but Beomgyu seemed unphased, that careless lopsided grin of his still on full display.

You sighed, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Well, I was thinking about having the orchestra do a piece, and then having one of the student bands do a piece. That way we have something classical and something more contemporary. Thoughts?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Taehyun said. “If we do our scene first, the orchestra could kind of act as a bridge between Shakespeare and more modern art.”

“I agree,” Yeonjun said. “And since Y/N is in the orchestra, she can get in touch with the director and have them prepare something. Oh, and Beomgyu!” The curly-haired boy looked up from his doodling when his name was called. “You know a few different bands, right? Think you could piece together a group of performers?”

“Definitely,” Beomgyu said. When he noticed your eyes on him, he quickly scribbled down Orchestra—Y/N. Band—Beomgyu Me.

“Well, since we all have our first tasks, I guess that’s all for today.” You were happy that the meeting was over; you were ready to get back to your dorm so you could get to work and actually get things done.

“Wait!” Beomgyu said as you stood up, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Now you have something to say. You raised a brow at him expectantly.

“We should exchange phone numbers, right?” He smiled, standing up and holding his phone out towards you. “I have the others’ numbers, but I figure I should be able to contact my partner from the music department.”

You hesitated, but knew there was no logical reason why you shouldn’t give him your number. You were going to be working together for the next several weeks, after all.

After putting your number in, he took his phone back and grinned at you again, eyes scrunching up into crescent moons. “Perfect! I’ll try not to bother you too much, but I make no promises.” He reached forward and ruffled your hair, and you were too caught off guard by the sudden touch to back away, or to even react at all. He then waved at all three of you, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “See you guys tomorrow then.” He turned towards you again, throwing you a casual wink that still managed to have you flustered. “I’ll be in touch, partner.”

You turned to watch him leave, face warm as you brushed through your hair with your fingers, trying to undo the damage your “partner” had done.

Something told you that he wouldn’t be keeping his promise about trying not to bother you anytime soon.

OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, BEOMGYU PROVED HIMSELF TO BE ONE OF THE MOST BOTHERSOME PEOPLE YOU HAD COME ACROSS IN A LONG, LONG TIME.

The worst part was the fact that he didn’t do anything blatantly wrong. He did everything he was asked to do when it came to preparing for the showcase. The first week of work consisted of the two of you gathering all the students who would be participating in the performances, along with Yeonjun and Taehyun preparing those from the drama department. Beomgyu performed all of his tasks just as he was asked to do, so it wasn’t as if he was bothering you by being unhelpful.

It was just something about the way he held himself that seemed to get under your skin for no apparent reason.

For the past week, your “partner” had basically been a tagalong—he would stand beside of you and do what he was asked without contributing much to the creative process of planning. You found it hard to criticize him up front, as he just did as he was told.

However, that was all he did. When the four of you would all sit down together to discuss plans or ideas, Beomgyu’s role never changed: he would sit beside all of you, jot down anything you told him to in his nearly-full composition notebook, and crack an occasional joke that would always send Yeonjun and Taehyun into fits of laughter, but only earned a stiff, forced smile from you.

You were starting to wonder why your professor had assigned him to your team. After all, putting on this open house was your last shot at making a lasting impression on the higher ups in your department. Everything needed to be perfect; mediocracy was not an option.

In other words, Choi Beomgyu needed to step up his game, and he needed to do it quickly.

You thought about this on the day of your first rehearsal, where all of the students who would be participating in the performances had gathered in the main auditorium of the music building.

Drama students were scattered in all directions, occupying the space around them with dramatic line readings and critiques for their classmates as they practiced their roles. Yeonjun and Taehyun were busy taking charge of the drama students, making sure everything was running smoothly amongst them. You watched as Kai, one of the freshman students Yeonjun had taken under his wing, followed your friends around like a baby penguin waddling after its parents, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Music students were spread across the stage, the orchestra setting up instruments and covering stands with sheets filled by notes and lyrics while the band tuned their guitars and plugged up their mics. Soobin, a tall, blue-haired student from the same year as you, waved at you from stage with his mic in hand. You waved back, happy that you had been able to snag him as the main vocalist for the band’s performance—his voice was angelic, able to captivate any listener.

“Hey.” You turned at the sound of the voice you had begun to grow quite accustomed to, whether that was for better or for worse. Beomgyu was standing beside of you, brushing a hand through the curly black bangs that hung just above his eyes. The tip of his nose was flushed pink, a sign that he had likely just been out in the biting cold that had begun to creep up as fall quickly approached. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder and his guitar case held in one hand.

“Running a little late, aren’t we?” You asked, glancing at the time on your phone with no attempt at hiding your frown. “Is this going to be a trend with you, Choi Beomgyu?”

He laughed, nudging his shoulder against yours. You wanted to be more irritated with him than you were, but he had the kind of laugh that put everyone around him at ease; the kind of laugh that filled one’s chest with warmth, as if you had been directly touched by a ray of sunlight reaching down from the sky.

So you settled with being only slightly irritated, pursing your lips to keep your expression in check as he responded with, “What fun would it be if everyone was on time?”

“It’s not about fun, it’s about making sure this whole thing runs smoothly,” you said as you turned to face him. “Speaking of which, since you didn’t have any suggestions, I went ahead and helped the band choose a setlist. They’ll only have time for two songs, but the ones I picked are really diverse and should be—”

“Ah!” He cut you off, snapping his fingers in front of your face, causing you to flinch back in surprise. “I knew there was something I forgot to tell you.”

“What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning as he shifted a bit closer to you. You could smell his cologne—a misty citrus scent that was so light you could barely tell it was there. “Well, it’s kind of embarrassing, but the professor actually wanted the band to perform one of the songs I wrote. If that’s okay with you, of course—you’re the boss, after all.”

“You—you write songs?” You asked, trying not to get irritated at the sudden disruption of what you had planned. He had been complacent this entire time, so of course, the time he actually had something to contribute, he would be messing up what you had already set in place.

“Well, if it’s a suggestion from the professor, I can’t just deny you permission, can I?” You said with a forced laugh. “Do you have the—”

“Sheet music?” He finished your sentence, shaking a stack of papers in front of you. “Right here, partner. Want me to go tell the band?”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Sure. Just tell them to switch the second song I had picked out with this one.”

He smiled at you again, ruffling your hair with the same hand he held the papers in. “You’re a saint. I’ll talk to you in a bit then?”

You had no time to respond before he was setting off towards the stage to talk to the band, papers and guitar in hand. You huffed through pursed lips, mumbling under your breath as you tried to put your hair back in place.

“What was that all about?” You dropped your hands to your sides when Yeonjun approached you, eyebrow quirked. Half of his cotton-candy colored hair was pulled into a ponytail, and he had on a pair of big round glasses with what you knew to be fake lenses—a fashion statement rather than a necessity.

“I don’t think Beomgyu knows much about personal boundaries or personal responsibility,” you mumbled, allowing Yeonjun to come up and finish fixing your hair with his fingers. “He decided to just now tell me that our professor wanted the band to use one of his songs in the performance.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, I just—” You hesitated, unsure of how to respond without sounding like a jerk. “I just wish he would have told me about it sooner. That’s all.”

“Y/N, you need to cut the guy some slack,” Yeonjun said, stepping back once he was finished fixing up your hair. “You act as though you have a personal vendetta against him or something.”

“I do not,” You argued, feeling you defenses flare up at his words. “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because every time he walks in the room you start to grimace, and every time he talks to you I can literally feel the amount of energy it takes for you to not roll your eyes.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“If you say so.” He put his hand on your shoulder, giving you a stern look that did, in fact, make you roll your eyes. “Give him a chance, Y/N. You may end up liking him more than you’d expect.”

You scoffed as your best friend walked away from you, returning to work on his previous tasks with Taehyun. A vendetta? Was it really that obvious to the people around you that Beomgyu got under your skin?

Perhaps Yeonjun was right—you did have a tendency to be extra sensitive when it came to your academic responsibilities. Maybe you were being too hard on Beomgyu; his goal was the same as yours, even if his methods differed drastically from yours.

You looked up to the stage to see Beomgyu laughing as he said something to Soobin, the rest of the band analyzing the sheets of music in their hands—Beomgyu’s song, if you had to guess. His skin glowed like honey beneath the stage lights, and you noticed that when he laughed, he laughed with his entire body; his eyes disappeared into crescents, his shoulders shook, he clapped his hands together and even stomped his feet a bit. You smiled slightly at the sight, before a pang of guilt hit you.

He did seem like a nice guy. It was time you gave him a chance to be seen as such in your eyes.

ANY PATIENCE YOU HAD DESPERATELY TRIED TO HOLD WITH BEOMGYU WAS WEARING THIN, AND IT HAD ONLY BEEN AN HOUR SINCE YOU DECIDED TO GIVE HIM A CHANCE.

You had both stayed behind with Yeonjun and Taehyun to clean up the auditorium after the practice. “I think that we’re done, don’t you?” You asked everyone after picking up a few discarded sheets of paper left behind by the drama students.

“Almost,” Beomgyu said from the stage. You looked up at him to see him pointing at two large music stands left behind by the orchestra. “Someone left these behind.”

“Can’t we just leave them there?” Yeonjun asked.

Taehyun shook his head. “No, we were given specific instructions to not leave anything behind.” He glanced at his phone. “They’re about to close the building for the night, so we should hurry and put them up.”

“I know which room they came from, so I can take them back,” Beomgyu offered.

“They’re pretty heavy, Beomgyu. Are you sure you can carry them on your own?” Taehyun asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine—”

“No, no, someone should definitely help you. You have to carry your guitar too,” Yeonjun interjected, a mischievous glint in your eyes that sent sirens blaring in your head. The feelings of disdain only grew when Yeonjun made eye contact with you directly, seeming to give you a sweet smile, but you knew the expression was laced with ulterior motives. “Y/N, why don’t you carry one while Beomgyu carries the other?”

You wanted to smack him, but that wouldn’t have been a good look for you, considering that everyone already thought you hated Beomgyu anyways. You glanced up at him on the stage to see that he had already picked one of the stands up, his guitar in the other hand. He gave you a big grin, eyes sparkling like freshly fallen snow. “What do you say, partner? Care to give me a hand?”

You pushed your tongue against the inside of your cheek, knowing that there was no way you were getting out of this one. “Sure,” You said through your teeth, glaring daggers at Yeonjun before making your way up the steps to the stage. The music stand wasn’t too heavy, so you almost dared to ask Beomgyu to try carrying them both in one hand, but decided against it.

“We’ll go ahead and leave then,” Yeonjun said, throwing a taunting wink your way. “You two have fun.”

You hate to bite your tongue to keep from cursing at him as Yeonjun and Taehyun left the auditorium, leaving you alone with Beomgyu for the first time. You glanced his way, noticing that he already had his eyes on you. Instead of averting his gaze when yours met his, he just smiled wider, gesturing towards the door with his head. “Shall we?”

You forced another smile. “Lead the way, partner.”

You followed him out the doors and up the stairs to the first floor, where the orchestra’s practice room was located. You were very familiar with the area, being a violinist yourself. When the two of you reached the room, you rushed forward to open the door, as Beomgyu’s hands were full. He thanked you and stepped inside first, and you followed suit, letting the heavy door swing shut behind you.

“Where should we set them?” He asked.

You nodded to the far corner of the room. “Over there.”

The two of you set the stands down, and you instantly turned back towards the door, ready to get back to your dorm for some alone time after such a taxing day.

“In a rush?” Beomgyu asked from behind you.

You turned to look over your shoulder at him as your hand grasped the doorknob. “Nah, just tired. Aren’t you?”

He shrugged, shifting his guitar case from one hand to the other. “Not really.”

“Lucky you,” You mumbled, turning back towards the door. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow—”

You stopped mid-sentence, heart dropping to your toes. When you tried to turn the knob, it wouldn’t move. After a moment of shock, you tried again, and then again, violently shaking the knob, trying to get the door to open.

“No, no, no,” You said, shaking the handle desperately. “Come on, this can’t be happening!”

“What is it?” Beomgyu asked, setting his guitar on the floor before rushing to your side.

“The door won’t open.” You shook the knob more frantically than ever, the entire door shaking from the force.

“Woah, easy there, partner,” Beomgyu said, gently placing his hand on your arm. “Why don’t you let me try to—”

“What exactly do you think you’re going to be able to do differently?” You snapped, snatching your arm away from him. His mouth hung open, eyes wide with what you assumed to be shock. “We’re stuck in here, Beomgyu. We’re stuck, and we’re not going to get out for god knows how long, and with you as my ‘partner,’ I’m one hundred percent certain we’re not going to be able to find a way out of here on our own.”

You could tell that your words struck a nerve with him by the way his shoulders tensed and how his eyes went narrow. Looking back, you wished you could reel the words back in, but they had already done their damage.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He asked, his voice low and thick with irritation.

It was your turn to be shocked. “What?”

“I said, why do you hate me so much?”

You blinked rapidly, feeling exposed and vulnerable now that he was confronting you. “I don’t—I don’t hate you, Beomgyu.”

He scoffed, pulling his bottom lip under his teeth. “Come on, I’m not that much of an idiot. This entire time, from the moment we first met, you’ve been cold and snippy with me. You can barely hide how much you dislike me with your facial expressions. I thought maybe we just got off on the wrong foot, so I’ve been brushing it off and treating you kindly. But you still treat me like I’m some annoying fly that you can’t quite get rid of, and I want to know why.”

“That’s not—I don’t hate you,” You repeated, jumbling your words together as you struggled to figure out what to say.

“Well, what’s the issue then?”

“You don’t take anything seriously!” Your voice wasn’t quite a shout, but it was almost there. Beomgyu took a step back, arms dropping to his sides.

“You’re treating this entire thing like it’s an elementary school play,” You continued, your voice getting louder and your words coming out more and more rushed the more you spoke. “You don’t contribute in the meetings, you show up late, and you barely do the things I ask you to do. I understand it may not be anything special to you, but this is my last chance to do something memorable here. I’m graduating in the spring, and up until this point, I’ve been nothing but another violinist tossed in the orchestra. I don’t stand out to my professors, or to scouts, to anyone.”

Hot tears began to well in the corners of your eyes as thoughts of your mother surfaced. Every word she had ever said about your pursuit of music being a waste of time, of how little a chance you had of making it, how your only hope was to stand out in the department, which, of course, she highly doubted you would be capable of doing.

“I have to do this, and I have to do it right.” Your voice wavered as you swiped at your cheeks, where a few tears had fallen. “If I don’t, then I’ll—I’ll—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Beomgyu’s voice was gentle, in stark contrast to the razor-sharp tone he had held just seconds before. You looked at him through your teary eyes to see that his own eyes were wide, this time with concern rather than anger. “You don’t have to explain, I understand, okay? I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You sniffed, more tears gliding down your cheeks as you did so. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” He repeated, looking as though he were about to start crying himself. “I had no idea that’s how I was coming across. I’m really, really sorry.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. How were you supposed to respond to that? The last thing you expected to hear from him was an apology, especially since, now that you had yelled at him, you realized how unfair you were being towards him. You shook your head, wiping furiously at your eyes. “No, you don’t have to apologize Beomgyu. I should be apologizing—I’m the one being irrational, not to mention I’m also the one that locked us in here—”

“How about we just call it even then, hm?” He cut you off, looking around before he spotted a box of tissues on the front desk. He grabbed one and made his way back over to you, gently wiping the tears from your face, being careful to not touch you directly. “We’ve both apologized for something that the other person doesn’t think requires an apology. The grounds are neutral now.”

You laughed, gently taking the tissue from his hand so you could wipe your eyes on your own. He stepped back when you did so, smiling nervously at your sudden laughter.

“Thank you, Beomgyu,” You said quietly, wadding the tissue up in your hand.

He rubbed the back of his neck, rocking back and forth on his feet. “No need to thank me, Y/N.” He paused, seeming to be in deep thought. It was quiet for a moment before he stuck his hand out towards you, expression cautiously hopeful. “Now that we both understand each other a little better, do you think we could start over?”

You smiled, wrapping your hand around his to give it a firm shake. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

THE WORLD ALWAYS SEEMED COLDER WHEN YOU WERE ALONE.

Of course, it could have felt cold because you were alone in a hotel parking lot, sitting on the cool pavement in the late hours of the night. You hadn’t brought a jacket with you, and your dress was sleeveless and made of thin fabric that didn’t do much to protect you from the wind that sent strands of hair flying across your face.

However, you were certain that if your mother or father had been sitting beside of you that early winter’s night, you would barely even notice the bite of the wind or the goosebumps that prickled up all over your bare arms. Even the stars had denied you their company; the sky was pitch black, void of any trace of light.

Lower lip trembling, you sighed as you kept your gaze on the sky above, thinking that maybe, if you kept looking, you’d find a single star shining amidst the darkness. Tears filled your eyes, but you wiped them away before they could fall.

“You’re a strong girl, Y/N,” Your mother would say if she were to catch you crying. “Strong girls don’t cry, do they?”

“No,” You whispered, even though she wasn’t there to hear you. “Strong girls don’t cry.”

“What do you mean?”

You jumped at the sudden voice, placing your hand over your heart before you turned your head to see a boy sitting on the pavement beside you. He had curly black hair that stuck out from beneath a beanie, covering the top of his eyes, and a big jacket on over his clothes. He seemed to be the same age as you, but of course, you couldn’t be sure.

“W-what?” You spoke through shaking lips, pulling your arms around yourself in an attempt to stay warm.

“You said that strong girls don’t cry,” He said, eyeing you with curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh,” you whispered, looking down at your shoes—a pair of black flats with scuff marks all over the toes. “It’s nothing— just something my mom says.”

He hummed, leaning back on the palms of his hands. “Well, I think she’s wrong. Everyone cries, even the strongest people alive. If someone tells you they don’t cry, then they’re lying.” He turned towards you, a big grin on his face. “You don’t seem like a liar to me.”

You sniffled, wiping your hand across your cheeks to catch the few tears that had managed to slip down. “Thanks, I think.”

“It was definitely meant as a compliment.” He sat up straight then, narrowing his eyes at you. You shrunk back a bit, shoulders shaking as the wind only seemed to get stronger by the second.

A moment later, he was sitting right beside of you, so close that his arm brushed against yours as he slipped his coat off, revealing an oversized hoodie beneath it. He wrapped the coat around your shoulders, and zipped it up, trapping your arms inside. He smiled again and sat back, but he was still close to you, so close that your shoulders were pressed together and his pinky was resting on top of yours.

Eyes wide, you slowly shook your head and slipped your arms through the sleeves so you could reach the zipper. “No, I’m okay—”

“Hey, keep it on, please,” He interrupted, placing his hand on top of yours to stop you from unzipping the coat. “It’s freezing out here, and you don’t even have any sleeves.”

You hesitated, not wanting to be a bother to this unexpectedly kind stranger, but you would have been lying if you had said that the cold wasn’t starting to bother you. Not wanting your lips to turn blue, you nodded, pulling your arms back into the coat to keep them extra warm.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “What are you doing out here, by the way?”

“Me? Oh, I was just sneaking out to the indoor pool.” He pointed over his shoulder at the building with a large dome roof made of glass. “My parents are already asleep and didn’t notice me leave. You?”

“Ah, well, my family is staying here for the night. My parents and I are going out for dinner to celebrate my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?” He asked, eyes growing wide. You nodded sheepishly and his smile grew bigger before he reached over to ruffle your hair with his hand. “Happy birthday!”

You giggled, smoothing your hair back down when he pulled his hand away. Your eyes met his, which seemed to sparkle with the light of billions of galaxies, paired perfectly with his beaming smile, and you realized that maybe you didn’t need the stars that night after all, because he alone shined brightly enough.

He looked around then, eyebrows furrowed. “But, where are your parents? Shouldn’t you guys get going before all the restaurants close?”

Your smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared. You swallowed, your eyes drifting towards a car that sat a few yards away from the two of you. The car was running and the lights inside were on, casting a yellow glow onto the two occupants seated in the front: your parents. Although you couldn’t hear what they were saying, you knew that they were yelling by the way they pointed their fingers at each other, and by the expressions on their faces, and the intensity with which their lips were moving.

The boy followed your gaze, his mouth parting slightly in surprise when he caught sight of your parents in the heat of their dispute. He glanced sideways at you before moving to sit in front of you, blocking your view of your parents.

“Why don’t you sneak to the pool with me?” He asked.

You shook your head immediately, a slight smile returning to your face. It was clear that he was trying to distract you, and you were grateful. That didn’t mean you were willing to sneak away from your parents, especially when the tension among your family was already sky high.

“Why not?” He whined, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout.

“Because I’m not supposed to move from this spot,” You said.

“And I wasn’t supposed to leave my hotel room, yet here I am.” He shrugged nonchalantly, brushing his bangs out of his eyes only for them to fall right back into place. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

There were a lot of really terrible things that could happen as a result of you sneaking away to go night swimming with a boy you didn’t know while your parents fought in the middle of a hotel parking lot. You could probably list ten off the top of your head. However, when you looked into the starry eyes of the boy in front of you, his lips spread in an encouraging grin that made you feel warm inside despite the cold, you hesitated.

What was the worst thing that could happen? The list seemed to be erased from your head as quickly as it appeared.

He tilted his head to the side, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes. He stood up and stretched his hand out to you, his fingers trembling from the cold.

“Should we run away?”

Your fingers twitched, urging to reach out touch his own. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to find the balance between being rational and following where your heart was leading. These two things did not seem to be lining up.

Before you could do anything, however, you heard a car door slamming shut. You jumped to your feet just in time to see your mother stepping away from the vehicle before your father drove off, leaving her alone in the parking lot. Eyes wide with worry, you watched as your mother brushed her hand across her cheeks before taking a deep breath and making her way towards you.

“Y/N,” she said when she reached you, not even glancing at the boy beside of you as she took your face in her hands. “Your dad is going to come pick us up in the morning. How about we just have a girl’s night to celebrate your birthday instead?”

With your heart dropping to your toes, you felt the tears welling in your eyes once again, but you refused to let them fall. You smiled and nodded, wrapping your hand around your mother’s. “Yeah. That sounds fine.”

You turned towards the boy to see that his face was full of concern. Forcing the best smile you could, you unzipped his coat and slipped it off your shoulders before placing it back in his outstretched hands.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. Before he could say anything back, you had turned away and began walking back towards the entrance, arm-in-arm with your mother.

“I was thinking we could order a pizza and rent your favorite movies,” she said, straining to keep the emotion out of your voice. “I’ll order the food once we get back to the room, okay?”

You nodded slowly, halting your footsteps just before the automatic doors that led inside.

But when you turned your head to catch one last look at the boy who shined brighter than the stars, he was already gone.

IN THE HAZY PLACE BETWEEN SLEEPING AND WAKING, YOU COULD HAVE SWORN YOU HEARD HIM SINGING.

With your eyes still closed, the sound rang through your head, clear as day. It was comforting, as if you had heard it before. Yet it wasn’t a sound that only echoed around you. This voice, so gentle and sweet that it seemed to drip with sugar and honey, filled all of your senses to the brim. You weren’t just hearing it, you were feeling it.

“In moments like those, when tears fill your eyes, hold my hand tight. Should we run away?”

You sighed, swept away by the sound and the words that the voice sang. You felt as though you had heard it before, but you couldn’t quite think of where. Snuggling closer to whatever it was that you were leaning against, you allowed the faintest of smiles to trace its way across your lips.

The singing stopped. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You pressed your face closer against the warmth you were leaning into, frowning at the sudden absence of the soothing voice.

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, slowly forcing your eyes open.

You weren’t quite sure where exactly you expected to be when you opened your eyes, but it definitely was not on the floor of the orchestra practice room with your head in Choi Beomgyu’s lap. Beomgyu was smiling down at you, black curls hanging over his eyes, freckles illuminated by the faint moonlight that spilled through the windows.

You sat up quickly, trying to fix your messy hair as you felt your face grow warm. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you were incredibly embarrassed that you had.

“How—how long was I asleep?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

“Just an hour or so. I think you got so stressed out after trying to call so many people that you just passed out,” Beomgyu said. He reached his hands toward you and helped you straighten up your hair, which only served to make your face even warmer than before.

“Sorry,” you said, gesturing to his lap. “For . . . that.”

He waved his hand at you before folding his hands behind his head. “Don’t apologize. Seems like you needed the sleep—you were dreaming pretty intensely.”

“I was? Did I say anything weird in my sleep? What did I say? Was it embarrassing?” You grabbed his sleeve, eyes wide as you bombarded him with questions.

He laughed, shaking his head in reassurance. “Don’t worry, it was nothing embarrassing. But you were talking.”

“What did I say?”

“Hmm, something about it being your birthday?” He placed a finger against his chin, eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure exactly what else. It was all kinda random.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, biting the inside of your cheek as you let go of his sleeve. You remembered every bit of the dream you had—well, it wasn’t really a dream as much as it was a memory. It was embarrassing to think that Beomgyu had heard any part of the memory, but you tried not to think about it too much.

“Beomgyu,” You said, opening your eyes once more to look at him. “Were you singing just now? Before I woke up?”

He didn’t say anything at first, his expression blank. Then, he smiled, nudging your shoulder with his. “Of course not—you know I don’t sing. Why?”

“Actually, for the record, I did not know that,” You corrected. “And I don’t know, I just . . . thought I heard someone.”

“Maybe it was your soulmate,” Beomgyu said, moving his eyebrows up and down.

You sighed, looking down at your feet. “I wish it was. I haven’t heard from him in two years.”

The smile fell from Beomgyu’s face right away. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Do you . . . know what happened to him?”

You shook your head, staring at the moon through the window. “No. I don’t even know who he was.”

“Hey, why are you speaking in the past tense?” He turned towards you and grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to face him. “Think positively, Y/N. He could still be out there. When did you first hear him?”

“When I was thirteen,” You answered. “But he stopped singing two years ago.”

“And you haven’t heard anything since then?”

You hesitated, thinking back over the past two years and all the sleepless nights you had spent waiting and hoping to hear any trace of a note ringing in your ears, the faintest hint of a voice. Sometimes, when you were just about to close your eyes, you would’ve sworn that you could hear his voice for the briefest of moments before you drifted off, but you would always blame it on being sleep deprived.

“No,” you said quietly. “I haven’t heard anything. He used to sing all the time, too. I would wake up to the sound of his voice, and it would carry me throughout each and every day. I know it sounds weird to say this about someone I don’t remember meeting, but I felt . . . connected to him, if that makes sense?”

Beomgyu didn’t say anything, so you continued. “He’s actually the reason why I picked up the violin. I got so used to his voice, I would go around humming all day. I guess my mom got tired of hearing me, because soon after I started hearing him, my mom signed me up for violin lessons. And, well, now I’m here.”

You looked over to see Beomgyu smiling softly, but his eyes didn’t meet yours. “Do you have any idea of who it might be?”

You were quiet for a moment. The image of the boy from the hotel parking lot with his star-struck eyes and diamond smile came to your mind, as always.

“No. But I have someone I hope it is.”

You looked over at him again, and this time, his eyes met yours. The silvery light of the moon highlighted the right side of his face and the bridge of his nose, casting a stark shadow across the other side. He was neither smiling nor frowning as his eyes searched yours. What exactly he was looking for you couldn’t be sure of, however, you liked the eye contact well enough to let it go on for a moment longer before you cleared your throat, looking back towards the window.

“Did you try calling Yeonjun again?”

“Yep. No answer.”

“Taehyun?”

“Nothing.”

“The professor?”

“Didn’t pick up—I left a message though.”

You sighed, allowing the back of your head to hit the wall behind you. “We’ll be stuck here all night at this rate.”

“Well, now that you’ve had a little nap, we may as well use this time to be productive,” Beomgyu said, standing to his feet and stretching his arms above his head as he did so.

You crossed your arms, raising a brow as you watched him pull his guitar out of the case. “What’s this? Choi Beomgyu taking initiative?”

“Hey, we said we were starting over.”

You laughed as he sat on the edge of the desk in front of where you were sitting on the floor. He pulled the strap over his shoulder and began tuning his guitar by ear, something you always struggled to do with your violin.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

He strummed through all the strings, nodding when he was satisfied with the sounds. Glancing down at you, he smiled. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to show you the song I wrote.”

Interest piqued, you sat up straighter and smiled back at him. “I was hoping that’s what you’d say.”

He laughed, adjusting his position on the desk before his fingers found their place on the neck of the guitar. You listened attentively as he began to pick the first notes, watching the way his fingers moved deliberately across the frets, yet, his movements never lost their grace. At first, he kept his eyes focused on his hands. But as the song went on, his eyes slowly closed, and he played without seeing, relying solely on the sound of the notes he was creating and the feeling of the strings that pressed into his calloused fingertips.

Awestruck would have been an understatement for the way you felt as you watched him play. The way he became one with the sounds he created, the way his wrist twisted to strum and how his fingertips slid across the length of the instrument as if it was the very thing they had been created to do. You were hypnotized, allowing the music to seep into your heart and make it thump against your chest like a caged bird begging to be set free.

If you had to put a word to how he looked in that moment, “beautiful” was the closest you would be able to get.

He opened his eyes as he strummed the last note, a gentle grin on his lips. You noticed how his eyes sparkled in the darkness, despite his back being towards the moonlight rather than his face.

“What do you think?” He asked, his voice sounding sharp as it pierced through the thick silence that had settled over the room.

“It was—”

“It was real pretty, kid.”

You yelped in surprise at the sudden voice, jumping up to your feet as Beomgyu practically fell off the desk, nearly dropping his guitar in the process. You helped steady him, and together, you looked towards the door to see that it was wide open, fluorescent light from the hallway spilling into the room as the janitor stood in the entry way, arms crossed over his chest as he blew a bubble with the gum in his mouth.

“If you’re done serenading your girlfriend, would you mind leaving so I can clean up and go home? This building closed an hour ago, but if you both leave now I’ll keep quiet.”

Your cheeks went hot, and you struggled to form words as Beomgyu scrambled to put his guitar back in its case. “Girl—girlfriend? No, we’re not—I mean, I’m not his—we just got stuck and—”

“Thank you, sir. We’re really sorry.” Beomgyu cut you off as he picked up his guitar case with one hand and wrapped his free arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. You gasped, but were too stunned to do anything but follow Beomgyu’s lead as he pulled you out of the room.

“What was that about?” You asked once the two of you had safely made it out of the building. “You were not serenading me.”

Beomgyu shrugged, letting his arm fall from your shoulders. Your mouth fell open at his lack of a denial. “Choi Beomgyu! Stop messing around.”

“Who said I was messing around?” He teased, winking at you as he began to walk towards his dorm building, which was on the other side of campus from yours.

You scoffed but said nothing as you watched his back while he walked away from you, trying to piece together what had just happened.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!” He shouted, turning around as he walked so he could wave goodbye.

You gave him a weak-hearted wave in return, pressing your hands against your flushed cheeks as you slowly began to tread back to your own dorm room.

How strange it was that just that morning, you would have given almost anything to avoid seeing Beomgyu.

But now, you found yourself counting down the minutes left until the next day so you could see him again.

WHEN YOU GOT BACK TO YOUR DORM FROM REHEARSAL THE NEXT EVENING, YOU HAD A TEXT.

Beomgyu: I know we said we were starting over, but I can’t forget that I still owe you a coffee. Meet me at the library in 15?

You felt like an idiot, but you couldn’t stop the grin from taking over your face. Slipping your shoes back on, you typed out a quick reply before slipping out the door.

You: Make it 5. I’ll be waiting.

When you arrived at the library, you were surprised to see that Beomgyu was already there. The line for coffee was very short, as most students had settled into their dorms for the night. Only a few stray overachievers and those that were desperately trying to cram for exams were there, and Beomgyu had claimed a place in line amongst them. He held his guitar in one hand, as per usual, and you wondered if there would ever come a time in which you would see him without it.

“How is it that you demanded to meet me ten minutes earlier than I planned, and I still got here before you?” He asked once you had reached him.

“First of all, I did not demand anything from you,” You said, pushing your fist against his shoulder. “Secondly, that is so unfair, because you know that your dorm is way closer to the library than mine is.”

“Sounds like an excuse to me, but okay. Ah, it’s our turn.” He placed his hand on the small of your back and pulled you closer to the counter. Your stomach flipped, but for some reason, you didn’t mind.

After the two of had gotten your coffees, Beomgyu told you to follow him up the stairs. You expected to stop at the second floor, but to your surprise, he kept leading you. He took you through a door in the back that you didn’t even know existed, where there was another flight of stairs. At the end of these stairs was another door. You stepped outside and found yourself on the rooftop, with a great view of the campus below.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be up here?” You asked.

“Well, no. But I’ve come up here a lot and never gotten in trouble, so what’s the harm?”

“That does not make me feel any better.”

“Come on, Y/N.” He took your hand in his and brought you over to the wide ledge, big enough for the two of you to sit on without the fear of falling off. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

You paused, eyes growing wide. He stared back at you as he hoisted himself up on the ledge. He took a sip of his coffee before asking, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

You shook your head, setting your coffee beside of him before bringing yourself up to sit on the ledge yourself.

“Nothing,” You said. “You just reminded me of someone.”

“Ah.” He stared at you for a moment longer before he slipped his jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders. You opened your mouth to protest, but he placed his finger against your parted lips, which was more than enough to shut you up.

“Just accept an act of kindness, would you?” He said, zipping his jacket up over you. You watched him as he did so, noticing the way his chocolate eyes sparkled in the midst of the cloudy night.

You swallowed, averting your gaze. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

It was quiet then, but not in an uncomfortable way. You enjoyed sitting beside of him in the silence, watching the lights of campus below you, feeling the warmth from his jacket spread over your chilled skin.

“Actually, Y/N, there’s something that’s been bothering me,” Beomgyu said, breaking the silence.

You turned to face him, curious. “What is it?”

For the first time since you had met him, Beomgyu looked nervous. He picked at the skin around his nails, doing everything he could to keep his eyes from meeting yours.

“Remember how you asked me if I sang? When we were locked in the orchestra room?” His voice was a bit quieter than it had been before.

“Yeah, you said you didn’t.”

“Right. Well, that—that was a lie,” He blurted, seeming to regret his words the second they had left his mouth. “Well, not a blatant lie, because I don’t sing anymore. But I used to.”

You were a bit confused, but seeing how nervous he was, you decided not to ask him why he would lie about such a seemingly trivial topic.

“What made you stop?” You asked carefully, not wanting to upset him.

He hesitated, wringing his hands together. After taking a deep breath, he spoke again.

“My father and I used to sing together,” He began. “I taught myself how to play the guitar, but he was the one who taught me how to sing. He loved to sing, more than anything else, and he always told me that I had a brilliant voice. He said it would be a shame to keep such a voice to myself.”

He smiled fondly as he spoke of his father, and you couldn’t help but smile as well. The joy slowly faded from his expression, however, as he began to speak again.

“I lost him two years ago,” He said quietly, voice thick with emotions that caused your heart to clench. “He was in a bad car accident. I was doing really well here, in vocals and guitar. But when I lost him, I just . . . I couldn’t sing anymore. I tried, I really did. I just couldn’t do it.”

“Oh, Beomgyu,” You whispered, gently placing your hand over his trembling one.

“It’s pathetic, isn’t it?” He sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Singing was the one thing he wanted me to do, and now that he’s gone, I’m failing at it.”

“No, Beomgyu,” You said, your voice firm as you squeezed his hand. “It’s not pathetic at all. You’re doing the best you can, and you’re still here. And most importantly, you tried. That’s what matters.”

He brought his eyes back to yours then, glistening with moisture in the moonless, starless night. He smiled at you then, and you smiled back.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“Have I told you yet that you’re really, really beautiful?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you froze, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. You were frozen for a moment before you scoffed, pulling your hand away from his and tucking it into your lap.

“I thought you were going to start being more serious,” You mumbled, refusing to look at him. “Stop messing around.”

Then, he moved closer to you, placing one arm behind you while he brought the other to rest against your cheek, gently turning your face towards his. He leaned in, so close that his breath brushed against your skin. He smelled of citrus and vanilla, and you found yourself leaning closer to him.

He glanced at your lips, then met your eyes once again.

“What makes you think I’m not being serious?”

His lips were soft when they pressed against yours, and it felt as though your heart would burst right out of your chest. You allowed your eyes to fall shut as he gently moved his mouth against yours, slowly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he did so, before allowing his fingers to gently trace their way along your cheek, then your jaw, until he rested his hand against your neck, pulling you a tiny bit closer to him.

He broke the kiss for a fleeting moment, just to open his eyes so he could look into yours. You liked the flecks of light that beamed in his irises, as though his eyes were made of starlight. He smiled, allowing his nose to brush against yours as his eyes moved back down to your lips. Once again, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips with his for the second time. He tasted like coffee and cheap cherry chap-stick—and odd combination, but you didn’t mind as you brought your arms around his neck and shifted closer to him, twisting your head to the side as you moved your lips in time with his.

The moment was unexpected, to say the least. But perhaps that was what made it feel that much more magical.

At least, it was magical until you felt scalding hot liquid splash all over the side of your leg, seeping through the fabric of your jeans to burn your skin.

You gasped against Beomgyu’s lips before pulling away, staring wide eyed at your jeans that were now stained with coffee. Your cup, which had been sitting between the two of you, was now knocked on its side, the contents drained.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Beomgyu said frantically. His lips were shining from the aftermath of your kiss, his freckled cheeks and nose red as a cherry. He gently pressed his hands against your leg, pulling them back when you winced from the impact. “Oh god—I’m sorry, I forgot that it was there and I was leaning in and I knocked it over and—”

You laughed at how flustered he had become, amused by this side of him that you hadn’t seen before. You grabbed his face and pulled him towards you, pressing your lips against his in a swift kiss, effectively shutting him up.

“It’s okay, Beomgyu,” You said once you pulled away, letting your hands fall from his face. “I guess you just owe me another coffee.”

The goofy lopsided grin you had grown accustomed to took place of the frightened expression he had worn just moments before. He hopped off the ledge, extending his hand towards you to help you down.

“Come on, partner. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

IT WAS THE DAY OF THE OPEN HOUSE, AND YOU WERE SLIGHTLY UNNERVED BY HOW WELL THINGS WERE GOING.

You had hoped that everything would go smoothly. The past few weeks, you had spent all your time and energy making sure that the event would be as close to perfect as possible.

Well, you had also spent a bit of time with Beomgyu, but only when you had the time to spare, of course.

The performers were all setting up; the drama department was working on setting up the stage props, as they would be going first, and they were busy rehearsing with the orchestra for how they could effectively move the props to make room for the instruments in a timely fashion. Yeonjun was rushing about, directing them with the grace and efficiency only he could pull off.

Everything was going perfectly. You should have just been happy about that, but for some reason, it felt as though you were just waiting for something to go terribly wrong.

“Y/N.” You turned at the sound of Beomgyu’s voice, smiling as he walked towards you. He was dressed in a white button up shirt that he tucked into a pair of black jeans. His sleeves were pushed up a bit, exposing his forearms.

“Everything okay?” You asked once he had reached you. You glanced at the members of the band, who were talking in hushed voices right behind Beomgyu. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed that something was amiss. “Where’s Soobin? Is he on his way?”

Beomgyu sighed, running a hand through his already messy curls. “That’s what I was coming to talk to you about. He’s sick—he won’t be able to make it. I just got a text from him.”

You blinked slowly, trying to process what you had just been told. Soobin was the main vocalist for the band. Without him, or someone to fill his position, there would be no performance.

You quickly walked over to the band, desperately trying to think of something to fix the situation, and Beomgyu was following right behind you.

“Can any of you do lead vocals in Soobin’s place?” You asked.

“No,” the main guitarist said, looking just as stressed out as you were. “We’d have to change the entire key for it to fit my range, and even if we had time to do that—which we don’t—we wouldn’t have any backup vocals.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. “There’s got to be something we can do to replace him. We can’t just take the band performance out.”

“How about Beomgyu?”

Your eyes flew open at the sound of Yeonjun’s voice, and you whirled around to see him standing behind you.

“When did you get there?” You asked.

“A minute or so ago,” He said, striding forward so that he stood on the other side of you. “But seriously, everyone knows Beomgyu can sing. He used to do it all the time. Why not have him take Soobin’s place?”

“It would make sense,” the guitarist said, his face lighting up with a glint of hope. “He’s been here for all the practices—I mean, he even wrote the song!”

You turned your eyes towards Beomgyu, worry overtaking you in an instant when you saw his expression. All the color had drained from his face, his lips pulled between his teeth. His hands were trembling, and he refused to meet your gaze.

“Beomgyu,” You said quietly, taking his shaky hand in your steady one. “You don’t have to. We can figure something else out—”

“I’ll think about it,” He said, eyes finally finding yours. He did his best to force a smile, but it was so strained, your worry only grew at the sight. “Just . . . can you give me a little while?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “Of course.”

He slipped away from you then, disappearing behind the stage. Your eyes followed him until you couldn’t see him any longer, worry creasing your brows.

“What was that about?” Yeonjun asked, stepping a bit closer to you. “I understand not wanting to force anyone to do something last minute, but we don’t really have many options.”

“There’s more to it than that,” You said quietly. “Just trust me, okay? And if he says he can’t do it, he can’t. We are not going to force him to do this.”

Yeonjun still looked confused, but he simply shrugged. “Whatever you say, captain. But just so you know, if he can’t do it, you’re gonna be the one singing in Soobin’s place. And trust me, no one wants to hear that.”

You fought the urge to flip him off as he walked away, wondering why on earth you still kept him around as your best friend.

The rest of the preparations went on, and soon, the audience had begun to fill the auditorium. You hadn’t seen Beomgyu since that moment during rehearsals, and you were beginning to grow worried.

You stood in the right wing of the stage as the show began with the drama department. You tried to focus on the performance—it was amazing, of course, especially since Yeonjun played a lead role in the scene they had chosen. Everyone knew he was an amazing actor. However, rather than being able to enjoy the show, you could only think about where Beomgyu was and wonder if he was doing alright, your stomach twisting itself into knots as the seconds ticked by.

By the time the drama students were finished, the audience standing to clap for their flawless performance, you had bitten your nails down to nubs as you grew increasingly worried. Yeonjun rushed over to you when he left the stage, smiling widely as he stretched his arms out to his sides. “How’d we do?”

“Hm?” You snapped out of your daze, shaking your head as you gave him two thumbs up. “Oh—wonderful. You guys were great. Hey, will you make sure everything goes well with the orchestra? I have to go find Beomgyu.”

“Well why don’t you stay here and I’ll go find him—”

“Nope, I’ve got it! Thanks best friend, you’re the greatest!” You gave him a quick hug before he could say anything else, quickly rushing out of the auditorium. You made your way down a few hallways, taking a couple of turns until you had reached one of the dressing rooms. You knew this was where Beomgyu had been getting ready because his guitar case was propped against the wall outside of it, so you hoped he was still inside.

You knocked on the door. “Beomgyu? Are you in there?”

It was silent, but you heard someone sniffle from behind the door. You sighed, leaning against the wood. “You don’t have to say anything, okay? But just hear me out.”

There was no response, but you could have sworn you felt someone leaning against the door from the other side.

“I know you may feel like you have to pressure yourself to do this, but you don’t,” You said gently. “Nobody is going to be disappointed if you can’t get up there to sing. Not me, not Yeonjun, not the band.”

You paused, biting your lip before you continued. “Your father wouldn’t be upset either, Beomgyu. The fact that you’re willing to even think about doing something this hard just to help out shows just how great of a person you are. He would be so, so proud of you. I’m proud of you, too. Whether or not you get up there and sing tonight, I’m proud of you. Okay?”

You stayed there, waiting in silence for a moment longer before you pushed away from the door, walking back towards the auditorium.

The orchestra was almost finished with their set by the time you returned to the wing. Yeonjun and the band were waiting with anticipation when you returned, eyes wide and searching behind you, probably hoping that Beomgyu was close behind.

“Is he coming?” Yeonjun asked.

You sighed, shaking your head slowly. “I don’t think so. We’ll just have to call off the band’s performance, but it’ll be okay—”

“That won’t be necessary.”

You turned at the sound of Beomgyu’s voice, unable to help the big smile that overtook your face. You hurried towards him, grabbing both his hands in your own.

“Are you sure?” You asked. “You know you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t,” he said with a smile. “But I want to.”

He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against your forehead. “Thank you. For everything.”

He went up to talk to the band after that, leaving you a blushing mess. The orchestra had just finished their set and were busy making way for the band. Yeonjun walked to your side as Beomgyu and the rest of the band took their places on the stage.

“Did he just kiss you?” Your best friend asked. For some reason, he didn’t sound surprised.

Dumbfounded, you brought your hand to your forehead and nodded, unable to speak. Yeonjun laughed at you, causing you to snap out of your daze so you could punch him lightly in the shoulder.

Once the band had finished getting ready, Beomgyu cleared his throat, tapping the mic before leaning forward to speak into it.

“Hello everyone, thanks for coming out tonight. My name is Choi Beomgyu, and these lovely people surrounding me are some of the many talented musicians in our music department.” He paused when the audience clapped, waiting until the applause died down before he spoke again. “To wrap up this showcase, we’ll be performing a song I wrote myself. I wrote this about someone I met a long, long time ago.”

He turned his head to the side then, making eye contact with you from the stage. He smiled, not taking his gaze away from yours. He looked heavenly in the light cast from the spotlight, strands of his black hair seeming to turn silver beneath the glow, his golden skin shining brighter than ever. You were sure that if you were close enough, you would see the star-like sparkles in his eyes that you had grown to adore.

“I hope she remembers me, even after all this time.”

“Is he talking about you?” Yeonjun whispered into your ear, noticing the direction of Beomgyu’s stare. “You guys just met like, a month ago.”

You were just as confused as your best friend, so in response, you simply shrugged, unsure of what was going on. He was definitely talking to you, but you had no idea what he was referring to.

“I hope she remembers me, even after all this time.”

You racked your brain, trying desperately to think of what he could mean. Had you met him before? Did he remember you from somewhere, from a memory that had somehow slipped your mind?

The music began to play, and you took a step closer to the stage, eyes narrowed, ready to focus on the lyrics, wanting more than anything to remember what Beomgyu was talking about.

“In moments like those, when tears fill your eyes, hold my hand tight. Should we run away?”

Your eyes went wide. You stumbled back, reaching up to hold your head in your hands.

“Y/N?” Yeonjun’s voice was distant, overpowered by the sound of the honey sweet voice that filled the air. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You gasped, hands tangling in your hair as the singing continued.

“Be my forever, call my name. Run away, run away, run away with me.”

Your head was ringing. Not only were these words the same ones you had heard in your head the night you were locked in the classroom with Beomgyu, but the voice—Beomgyu’s voice—was the same one you had heard day and night while growing up.

It was your soulmates voice.

You knew it was, not just because of the lyrics or the familiarity of the voice. You knew it was your soulmate because you didn’t just hear the words and the notes of the song, you felt them. Every inch of your being felt as though it had been struck by lightning. The voice filled up all of your senses, overpowering you in the most beautiful way imaginable.

But it was too much. His voice coming through the loudspeakers paired with it ringing inside your head built up so much pressure that it caused your vision to blur. You quickly stumbled out of the auditorium, fumbling your way through the front doors that led outside.

You sat down on the pavement, taking deep breaths as your mind began to calm down. No longer overwhelmed by all that was going on around you, you closed your eyes, listening to Beomgyu’s voice as it filled your mind.

“Don’t wanna stay, now we can go. Take me now to the magic named ‘us.’”

With those words, the voice died down, and you were surrounded by silence.

You simply sat there for several moments, your eyes remaining closed as you tried to understand everything that had just happened to you.

Beomgyu was your soulmate.

Beomgyu was your soulmate, and he was alive.

Bit by bit, you started to piece things together. The night of your thirteenth birthday, the day before you heard his voice for the first time. You had met the boy with sparkling eyes and a lopsided grin in the hotel parking lot. He had offered you his coat, and then his hand.

“I hope she remembers me,” Beomgyu had said.

You smiled to yourself, placing your hand over your heart as it beat fiercely against your chest.

“Yes, Beomgyu. I do remember you.”

“Y/N!”

Your eyes flew open at the sound of the door being thrown open behind you. You turned to see Beomgyu barreling towards you, practically collapsing to the ground in front of you. He took your face in his hands, eyes frantically searching yours.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his fingers gently running along the length of your cheeks.

You nodded, smiling even though tears began to pool in your eyes. “Beomgyu,” You said quietly, lifting your hands to hold his wrists. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Knew what?”

“That you’re my soulmate.”

He paused, the worry in his face slowly being replaced by a wide, sparkling smile.

“So you finally figured it out, huh?” He said, brushing a strand of your hair back behind your ear. “If you didn’t figure it out after tonight, I wasn’t sure how else I was supposed to show you.”

You laughed, a tear slipping down your cheek as you tightened your grip on his wrists. His expression changed once again, brows knit with concern. “Are—are you crying? What’s wrong?”

“No, nothing, it’s fine,” You assured him, resting your forehead against his. “I’m just happy. I’m so, so happy, Beomgyu.”

He sighed with relief, wrapping his arms around you in a hug, pulling you snugly into his chest. His chin rested on top of your head as you slipped your arms around his middle, pulling him even closer than he already was.

“I was a little worried that you’d be disappointed when you found out it was me,” He said with a light laugh.

You shook your head against his chest, snuggling even closer to him. “Of course not. You’re exactly who I hoped it would be, Choi Beomgyu.”

The two of you stayed like that for a bit longer before Beomgyu pulled away and stood up in front of you.

The boy with stars for eyes and a smile that outshone the moon stretched his hand out towards you, fingers shaking from the cold, cheeks flushed from your embrace.

“Should we run away?” He asked.

This time, you placed your hand in his and let him pull you to your feet.

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sophie-i-guess13 · 2 years

Text

Bob Sheldon x Reader

I am physically incapable of writing something short I am so sorry. BUT! This is a request I got from the wonderful @ksuwoxb about a bob Sheldon x Mathews sister :) hope you enjoy!

When I was little, I had a dream of being a cheerleader. I was a rowdy thirteen-year-old the first time I saw those cheerleaders on television, with their fancy uniforms and million-dollar smiles on the field beside the Dallas Cowboys. I did as many cartwheels and somersaults I could manage on the front lawn without giving Mom a heart attack, but it was pretty obvious I’d need a lot more practice to be anything like the girls on the screen.

One summer, after Darry Curtis took a class at the college, he taught me and the rest of the boys in his gang how to do a few flips and things. I enjoyed it at the moment, but that changed when I actually got to high school and realized all the things I’d need and didn’t have. Like money for the uniform, sneakers that weren’t my big brother’s for years, and a way onto the squad after all the places had been snatched up by pretty and popular Soc girls.

“Hey, Mathews, have you heard anything I just said?”

My locker creeps open stiffly, the sound lost amid the shuffle of students around us as I slide my backpack off my shoulders. “No, Bob. If I’ve learned anything in Mr. Syme’s class, it’s how to ignore you.”

I realized pretty early on I wouldn’t be able to bother Mom for a uniform or brand new shoes – no matter how hard she worked or how tempted Keith – Two-Bit – was to steal them for me. So, I did the next best thing I could think of and studied. It was more affordable than being a cheerleader and would help me out in the long run, anyway. So far, all that studying has done is made me and Bob Sheldon compete for the highest grade in our eleventh-grade English class.

And let me tell you, for a kid who’s used to everything being handed to him on a silver platter, he hasn’t given up – even this far into the semester.

I have no choice but to look at him when he leans against my locker with enough force to send the whole row trembling. I’m not scared of him, though, I’ve never been.

He’s a little bit taller than me with brown hair, though it ain’t as dark as his eyes. He walks around town like he owns the joint, usually with more of his Soc buddies like Randy Anderson and Sherri ‘Cherry’ Valance. But, now that I come to think of it, I haven’t seen her around too much. “No one’s gonna kill you if you don’t get first place, you know.”

I’ve gotta give it to him; for such a spoiled asshole, Bob sure does a good job and acting indifferent. Mr. Syme had let us all go five minutes early at the end of class, the last period of the day so we could hurry home and start our essays on Shakespeare's “Othello”. He’d even gone as far as to say the three kids with the best essay on his use of symbolism would get it published in the paper.

Getting mentioned in the paper for an essay would mean the chance at a scholarship and proud parents.

And Bob Sheldon wanted it just as much as I did.

“Really,” he drawls again, picking at his nails as I rearrange my textbooks for the weekend, “why don’t you just take it slow this time around, go out with some friends maybe?”

I force a smile so sweet, I can already feel my teeth rotting as I look at him. He’s a rich, pompous Soc, but I hate to admit he ain’t bad to look at. “Well, ain’t that just sweet? You’re worried about me?” My fingers brush against my skirt as I talk, absent-mindedly tracing the dried ketchup stain above my right knee. “I’m sure a guy like you’s got a million different parties to attend this weekend, why don’t you just forget about the essay?”

He pushes away from the lockers, squaring his shoulders before wiping grime off his jacket. “And let you get ahead of me? Not a chance, Mathews.”

I was used to our bickering back and forth by now, but this had started to get annoying. It was nearing three o’clock on a Friday afternoon and all I wanted to do was go home. Not stand here wth my locker hanging open, and a flimsy book bag hanging off my shoulder while he stood in front of me, looking as polished as the marble statues we were learning about in history.

“Why don’t we both take the weekend off? The essay isn’t due for another week and a half, anyway.”

I liked the sound of that. Not only would I be able to take a weekend to myself stress-free, I could use that time to visit the Curtis boys with my brother while Mom was at work. They’d been taking it pretty hard since their parents died a month back, Pony and Sodapop ain’t even back in school yet. And then, I’d still be able to write up an essay brilliant enough to knock Bob back into second place.

“You were right, surprisingly,” he chuckled, “Randy’s folks are outta town and he’s throwing a bash tonight at his place. I’m on the list, so I really can’t work on that essay tonight, anyway-”

After years of being in school together, I still can barely stand this kid. All I want to do is go home, but he’s still here, yacking on and on worse than our teacher!

“-So, what do you say?”

I bring back the sickly sweet smile as my fingers curl around my locker door, aching to slam it shut. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

Bob tilts his chin a little higher and pops his collar, a smirk pulling at his lips as he turns on his heel and begins to walk away. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

#soapie’s stuff #the outsiders #bob sheldon #bob sheldon x reader #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders fanfic

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tarosin · 3 years

Text

the great adventures of y/n tubbo jack niki and wilbur - racing across the sea

requested: yes/no

part 8 of the great adventures series

warning: cursing, anxiety about the sea

ever since the argument you and tubbo had become inseparable, he practically lived with you and your parents at this point, and your community was loving it. everytime one of you would stream, tens of thousands of people would tune into your stream to see what madness was going on and today was no different. the pair of you decided to stream a laugh and the stream ends challenge. safe to say you ended up changing the rules several times, you even made ranboo join the stream so you could have extra lives. not long after the stream ended you, ranboo, and tubbo practically dominated the twitter trending page. today however was tubbos last day at yours and shortly after you ended stream, the pair of you headed out to the train station so you could make sure your best friend made it onto the train safely. after you said your goodbyes, you decided to facetime jack on your way home to discuss vlog ideas, and just to talk to him, as you had been rather busy this past week going over plans with ranboo, tubbo, and all of your parents about the uk trip that was happening pretty soon.

a few days later, it was finally time to go film the vlog. you couldn’t exactly lie, you weren’t exactly looking forward to this, as you were told it had something to do with the sea and boats which oddly enough didn’t mix very well with your fear of the deep sea. you had no idea what’s down there and you didn’t want to find out, but hey at least you’d be with tubbo.

your parents offered to drive you there so you didnt have any additional stress from having to get a train then a taxi, this allowed you to have a pretty quiet journey to meet up with your friends. you sat in the back of the car on facetime with tommy who was the only one who knew about your fear and was rather confused as the why you would agree to do such a thing

“i’ll never understand what goes through your mind, you’ve got this though! you’re going to be completely okay, plus you never know it might help you get over your fear, you did tell me you had been working on getting over it.”

“I suppose you’re right, it can’t be too bad. I mean I love the sea. I just don’t like what’s deep down, you feel me?”

“i understand mate, but you need to remember jack wouldn’t put you in danger. as much as he acts like he would, and even if you do fall off the boat or some how end up in the water, you won’t automatically end up at the bottom of the sea. just try to enjoy yourself, yeah?”

“...yeah”

“call me when you get home you can tell me all about what happened, afterwards we can record a minecraft mod video.”

“of course, boss man.”

“you hang out with tubbo too much, you should hang out with me a lot more.”

the car pulled into the car park and within a minute of the car stopping tubbo was at the window shouting your name.

“right tommy, i should probably go, ill see you later bud!”

you said goodbye to your parents as tubbo opened your car door for you.

“what a gentleman, thank you, tubbo.”

“anything for you, now let’s go. jack began filming the intro and i really want the hat hes wearing.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

he stood with his arms crossed shaking his head, pretending to be offended before walking off with you not far behind him.

you stood with niki and wilbur as tubbo went off filming some of the intro with jack. the three of you stood talking about how you have all been and discussing more plans for your meetup.

“y/n, go control your friend, he’s stealing a hat!”

you ran up behind tubbo and stole the hat from him, putting it on your own head.

“why have you got the hat now?”

“i am now captain!”

“but i wanted to be captain!”

you and tubbo stood arguing back and forth over who was captain, ignoring jack trying to get the pair of you to stop.

“you have 5 seconds to stop arguing or you’re being separated 5...4...3...2...1 right.”

“jack no!”

jack pulled you aside claiming he has something really important to ask you.

“so did you bring something valuable?”

“yeah i did actually, i brought tubbo and the necklace tommy gave me for my birthday last year.”

tubbo overhearing the conversation walked over telling you both that he also brought a valuable item, in fact it was a family heirloom.

“i brought an urn.”

“why would you do that tubbo? what the fuck-“

“you two do realise if either of you lose it had to go in the sea?”

“poor grandma.”

“aye about that you will have to pry that necklace out of my hands in order to throw it in the sea!”

the three of you went up to wilbur and niki where wilbur stole the hat you stole from tubbo, and you were told that you were all about to race to the isle of wight.

it was unfortunately time to board the boat, you sat next to tubbo, so that you felt like you had some sort of control with what was about to happen. the others sat making jokes about what was going on whilst you were trying to get control of your breathing. as you all set sail, you thought you were doing a good job of hiding the fact you were potentially about to have a panic attack as no one seemed to notice, or so you thought. considering the fact tubbo was your best friend, he instantly noticed something was wrong and wrapped an arm around you, and decided that distracting you would be a lot better than making you focus on what was currently happening.

“hey y/n, i have an amazing idea for when ranboos in the uk. a 4 month sleep over.”

“heh?”

before you had time to fully process what was going on, all you could hear was wilbur now claiming to be captain then going on to tell you why portsmouth is called portsmouth. you couldnt help but laugh at the random things he was coming up with since he put the captains hat on.

“that is a cinema..i’ve been in this industry for a while now, isn’t that right?”

it was silent for a while until niki tried to steal the captains hat, but was unfortunately unsuccessful .

“maybe next time niki.”

“thank you for believing in me, y/n.”

you pointed out a castle which ended up with wilbur talking about how the planned executions there .

“are they dead?”

“...tubbo of course they’re dead. what kind of question was that?”

the other boat began getting closer to the boat you were all currently in, indicating that it was almost time for you all to split up into two groups.

“my boat is going much faster.”

“that is a sign of pollution.”

“wow jack you’re polluting the world, i hope you’re happy!”

the ride was pretty chill until jack asked what he had lost in the past.

“past relationships.”

“the love or host.”

“laugh you lose streams.”

“the waterslide races from when we went to the water park.”

you and tubbo continued listening things that jack had lost.

“okay. so i’ve lost a few things.”

jack looked towards the other boat.

“however, you two are about to lose each other.”

“excuse you?”

“no, y/n is mine!”

eventually wilbur had enough and picked tubbo up and took him to the other boat with him.

“TUBBO!”

“Y/N!”

you and niki sat laughing as jack and wilbur bickered about who was going to win the boat race. whilst jack was distracted, you felt niki tap your arm and told you to look over to the other boat where tubbo was reaching his arm out to you so you could quickly swap boats.

you quickly got into the boat and sat next to your best friend, tubbo knew you were still slightly nervous, so made it so you would be sat in between him and wilbur so you would feel a lot more comfortable. a few minutes later, your boat began to set off and all you could hear was a mixture of tubbos laughter and jacks yelling getting quieter the further you went.

“AY THEY CANT START WITHOUT US!. AND THEY GOT Y/N, WHEN DID THEY GET THEM?!”

you turned to face wilbur who pointed towards a building before announcing that it definitely belonged to the the three of you, and was renaming it reddit gold.

“reddit..reddit gold, are you serious?” you said through your laughter, the three of you sat together taking turns narrating what was happening .

“go on, y/n.”

“if this capsizes, were all drowning.”

“cheerful as awful.”

“do you think sharks are beneath us?”

“i’m not even answering that question.”

you looked over your shoulder to see that niki and jack were catching up to you all.

“i hope they don’t overtake us, otherwise it’s bye bye tubbo.”

“and grandma.”

“excuse you, tubbo?”

“he’s claiming that he brought an urn with him and if we lose our valuable item gets chucked into the sea.”

a little while later jacks boat was next to yours and you and wilbur started to shout how it was like romeo and juliet.

“y/n, you studied this at gcse a while back, yell some quotes.”

“tubbo i didn’t listen to the teachers.”

“do it!”

“no!”

wilbur continued to talk to the others whilst you and tubbo sat bickering about William Shakespeare .

“tubbo my favourite character was benvolio and he fucked off halfway through.”

“what do you mean he fucked off?”

“he literally disappeared.”

wilbur was genuinely questioning what he was listening to he slowly turned around and tried to catch your attention; however you were currently in the middle of a debate about why benvolio disappeared, which was that last thing you expected to be doing on the boat. eventually your debate died down and you looked up to see wilbur shaking his head at you both, clearly confused as to why you spent 5 minutes arguing about romeo and juliet. an idea came to wilburs mind as he started laughing and pointing at the sea.

“drink some seawater, tubbo.”

you looked away as tubbo reached into the water trying to hold as much water as he could before bringing it to his lips and drinking the seawater.

“tubbo did you really just-“

“more tubbo!”

tubbo did the same as before, however this time brought his hands towards your face.

“drink it, y/n!”

“yeah, y/n, you can help desalinate it.”

“how wonderful, i’ll pass though.”

tubbo looked at you pretending to be upset and lifted his hands towards you again, this time you gave in and drank some of the water.

“thanks, tubbo, I can now only taste salt.”

jack noticed what you and tubbo were doing and looked at wilbur confused.

“im making them drink seawater!”

“what’s it like?”

“potassium!”

“salt.. a lot of salt!”

you checked your phone as you kept receiving multiple messages from tommy trying to get your attention, forgetting that you were currently on a boat with the others. you looked up from your phone to see tubbo drinking more seawater.

“AGAIN?”

you had no idea what was going on for jack and niki, but it sounded a lot like they lost hope as jack yelled asking if there was room for him on the boat while tubbo sat flipping him off in response to his question. jack continued to yell at the three of you however none of you could hear what he was yelling, so you kind of sat just nodding your head in agreement to what he was saying. wilbur pointed out that he could see the finishing line and how it looked like you were all going to make it. you looked over to see jack and niki recreating that one scene from titanic tubbo looked at you smiling, trying not to laugh.

“absolutely not one of us, if not both of us, would end up in the sea.”

the boat began to go significantly faster. at the start you were unsure how to feel, however a few minutes into it you began laughing enjoying how fast you were going.

“woahhh we’re turning!”

the boat did a loop before going straight on as fast as it could go.

“y/n, tubbo, we’re going. we’re going.”

“OH MY GOD!”

you ended up passing another boat you and tubbo instantly waved to everyone on the boat a few people waved back .

“they don’t wanna wave.”

“they know their boat is bigger than ours.”

“they could easily ram us and kill us all.”

“hopefully they decide against doing that.”

the boat began weaving resulting in you, tubbo, and wilbur constantly crashing into each other, not that any of you cared you were all having the time of your lives. you pointed at a boat which was cutting off the boat jack and niki were in .

“we’ve got this in the bag boys, victory is ours!”

your boat slowed down so it could dock.

“i think we’ve won!”

“we won”!

“holy shit we won! tubbo doesn’t have to go in the sea now!”

everyone got out of the boat so you could all wait for jack and niki to reach the dock, as the two of them approached you all tubbo began to sing.

“we are the champions my friend!”

“STOP IT!”

“i have to go into the fucking water!”

you pulled niki into a hug.

“jack you cruel man.”

“did you not have fun niki..we had a great time.”

you let go of niki and stood behind tubbo placing your head on his shoulder whilst jack explained to wilbur what was going to happen if they lost.

“oh, I thought we got to decide who was thrown into the water.”

“no no no no no no!”

“well i think considering we won..”

after a small discussion as a team, you all instantly agreed that jack should be thrown into the water, you all stood on the boat as niki argued that he cant throw her into the water. a couple seconds later wilbur walks towards jack handing him the camera before picking him up.

“are you ready?”

“i don’t think the bits that funny will, i don’t think the bits that funny!”

you all screamed and laughed as jack was thrown into the water. jack complained about the temperature of the sea as he climbed back onto the boat only to be pushed off again by you and tubbo.

“that’s revenge for trying to put us on separate boats!”

you spent the rest of the day together just hanging together as a group before you said your goodbyes.

the ride back home was you excitedly explaining what your boat ride was like to your parents, once you got home you ran upstairs to your room then called tommy on discord

“how was it then?”

“tommy it was so cool, honestly i wish you could have come with us.”

“i mean you’re coming with me george and wilbur to a water course next week, you don’t have a choice.”

“oh okay, it’s a good job i’d love to be there then, tom, also what mod are we playing just so i can check i have it ready.”

“rlcraft.”

the two of you spent a good hour talking before getting ready to film a video with charlie and jschlatt for tommys youtube channel.

taglist:

@l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @c1loudee

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x-reader-theater · 3 years

Text

A Shakespearean Soliloquy in Two Parts

Relationship: Asexua!Spemcer Reid x Asexual!Male!Reader

Summary: “Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.” William Shakespeare, Julius Ceaser

Warnings: Scool shooting, asexual Spencer Reid and reader, implied autism.

Word Count: 7520 words

A/N: To be frank, I meant to post this at like, three pm. Also Asexual Spencer Reid owns my ass and I will only write him as such. Please enjoy. Edited by the outstanding, amazing, show stopping @mystic-writes . I love you please forgive me for forgetting.

"Are you sure/That we are awake? It seems to me/That yet we sleep, we dream" –A Midsummer Night's Dream

"Hey, Shelly," you say with a smile at the small book store you are currently checking out in. "Good to see you again."

"You as well! Only one book this week?" Shelly asks and you nod.

"Yeah. I have too much work to do, so I can't focus on more than one book," you say.

She scans your book and you pay quickly. She hands you the book back and says with a smile, "Enjoy your book!"

You nod and turn around quickly, taking a step, before colliding with someone. The books in their hands go crashing to the floor, and you do as well, crying out as you land suddenly on your tailbone, and stars flash before your eyes.

"I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have been that close and I wasn't paying attention, and I should have been looking where I was going and-" you hold up a hand to silence the man who was speaking a mile a minute in front of you.

"Really, it's okay. It was my fault," you say, wincing as you try and get up.

The man holds out a hand out and you take it. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He takes his hand back almost immediately once you're standing and you smile. "No, not really. Just bruised my tailbone," you say and the man sighs.

You lean down and pick up a couple of the books he was carrying, and when you go to the last book, his fingers brush yours. You look up and see your faces are inches from one another, and you feel your face heating up. You see him blush as well and you both pull your hands away. You stand up so he can grab the last book and you shove the books you're holding into his arms.

"Sorry again!" you say, not looking at him, and you leave because you can’t embarrass yourself any more.

It isn't until you're in your car that you realize you gave him your book as well.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love." –Hamlet

You walk into the Alley Cat Café, a new café that just opened a block from your flat that also offered an area where you could hang out with adoptable cats. You never went in there because you would just adopt all of them and you didn't have the time for that right now.

You walk into the café and the little bell above the door jingles to signal your arrival. You walk up to the counter and order your regular, the Calico Chai, and pay before finding a seat near the back close to the window where you could watch the cats. Your order is called, and as you get up, you look over to a table, and see a very familiar man reading a book at a remarkable speed.

You distractedly grab your tea and go back to your table, gathering up your things before plopping yourself next to the man.

"Hello again!" you exclaim and he jumps, looking up from his reading to glare at whoever interrupted him.

When he locks eyes with you, however, his eyes widen. "Oh! Hello!" he exclaims and a small smile forms on his lips.

"I think I may have given you my book on Tuesday," you say sheepishly, and his eyes widen even more and his mouth drops open adorably.

He turns and fishes around in his bag, before turning back to you and holding out a book in both hands. "I've been carrying it around with me hoping to give it back to you," he says, blushing, and you grin, taking the book from his hands, your fingers brushing his.

"Well, thank you," you say, grabbing the large book.

"So, the complete works of Shakespeare, huh?" the man asks and you nod.

"Yeah. I've never actually owned a copy before," you say. "I've only taken it out from the library or borrowed it from friends. I actually wanted to major in Shakespearean studies in college before ultimately deciding to go another way." The man nods, and silence falls over you for a moment before you say, "You know, I never got your name."

"Oh! Doctor Spencer Reid," he says with a wave.

You wave back and say, "Doctor [Y/N] [L/N]."

"What's your doctorate in?" he asks, excited.

You reply, "Biological Anthropology. I teach it at Georgetown."

"That's where I got my PHD in Chemistry," Spencer says and you grin.

"Really? When was that?" you ask.

"Thirteen years, two months, six days, and seventeen hours ago," he says and you blink owlishly.

You think for a moment before saying, "You must have been really young when you got that."

He nods. "I was seventeen. It was my second PHD. I have three. One in mathematics, one in chemistry, and one in engineering. I also have five BAs."

You stare at him for a moment, not saying anything, before you whisper, "That's really impressive." You feel your cheeks heat up. "I didn't get my PHD until I was nearly 25."

"I have an IQ of 187, and eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words a minute," he says and you smile.

"You're one of a kind, Spencer Reid," you say, holding your book to your chest. "That must have been a very lonely childhood though," you remark, and he looks away from you. He nods but doesn't say anything. "What do you do now?"

"I'm a profiler with the FBI in their behavioral analysis unit," he explains and you smile.

"Maybe I'll have you come in and lecture to one of my classes some time," you say and he smiles. "Though Biological Anthropology isn't very exciting to anyone but me…" you look away and scratch the back of your neck, but Spencer assuages your fears.

"Actually, I find it quite interesting. I read an article the other day about how work stress is actually de-evolving humans, causing their bones to actually lose density, causing them more physical pain and inability to do physical tasks, as well as loss of sleep, appetite, and more," he says, and you grin.

"But, the study was only on French individuals, and it could have different results based on where the study is done. Like, in Japan for example, there may be the same amount of stress but they handle it better because in their culture, work is just a part of life and you have to deal with stress. Or in America, where we have different ways of dealing with stress that may cloud the findings," you add, and he nods.

"That is true, though you'd have to factor that into the initial hypothesis and-"

Spencer is cut off by his phone ringing. He picks it up and the phone call ends quickly.

"I'm so sorry to have to do this, but I have to go to work. We have a case," he says and you nod in understanding.

"Of course. It was nice talking to you Spencer. I hope we can talk again some time!" you exclaim.

A small smile tugs at his lips and he says, "I do too, [Y/N]."

You stare at each other for a couple moments before he turns around and leaves the café. You sip your now cold tea and realize you didn't get Spencer's number.

“Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt." –Measure for Measure

You sit at the bar and nurse your glass of water as the music and lights cause a headache to split at your temples. You groan and massage your head, but it doesn't do anything to relieve the pain. You take another sip of your water, and look up to see a familiar face looking down at you.

"Co-workers bring you here too?" Spencer asks and you smile and nod.

"Yeah. It's Fiona's birthday today and she wanted to go to a club," you say, and Spencer sits down next to you. "I got dragged along. And apparently I got a splitting headache too."

"Do you want any help with that?" Spencer asks and you look at him, questioningly. "Turn around."

You do as he asks, slowly, and you feel his fingers lightly resting on your neck. You wince as he presses into your spine right where your head and neck meet, but after thirty seconds he releases, and your headache dissipates. You grin and turn around.

"How did you know to do that?" you ask.

He shrugs. "I had chronic migraines when I was younger, and I read a book on pressure points once," he explains and you nod in understanding.

"Right. You're a genius," you say with a forced smile and he frowns. You sigh. "You just…" you put a hand on his cheek, and he stiffens for a moment before relaxing into your touch. "You make me feel inferior. Like I'm just never going to do as well as you."

Spencer grabs your hand lightly and squeezes it, putting it away from your face as he looks into your eyes. "Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. You're a doctor working at one of the best schools in the country," he says and you smile. He returns it. "And, don't compare yourself to me. I can read 20,000 words a minute. I'm a freak. You're more normal than I am."

"Spencer Reid, don't you ever say that again!" you exclaim, taking his other hand in your own. "You are not a freak!" He goes to protest but you take one of your hands from his grip and put it over his lips. "Nope. No arguing. What I say is final."

You pull your hand away and you see he's smiling. "Yes, Doctor," he says, his words dripping with sarcasm.

You grin, before gasping. He looks alarmed as you say, "Oh! I forgot!" he places his hands on your arms. "You didn't give me your number in the café!"

He sighs in what looks to be relief, before reaching into his pocket and taking out his wallet. "You want to see a magic trick?"

You nod and he grins an adorable smile that has you grinning as well. He holds up a business card, probably his business card, and moves his hands in front of his face, and when they cross back over, the card is gone.

"Oh come on! It's behind your hand! I know this trick," you say, and he raises an eyebrow.

He opens up his fingers and turns his hand around, showing it's nowhere to be seen. Your eyes go wide and your mouth drops slightly in awe.

"Hey, I think you have something in your hair… right there…" he says, pointing to your left ear, and you reach up before he can touch you.

You feel something, and when you pull it out in front of you, you see it's Spencer's business card.

You laugh and flip the card over, checking to see if it's real or not. But it very much is.

"Wow Spencer, that's amazing!" you exclaim and his cheeks flare red. You take out your phone and put his number in, calling it. He looks up at you and you place your phone to your ear. He picks up and you say with a smile, "There. Now you have my number too."

"This sounds very strange, can I hang up now?" Spencer says out loud, and it's repeated in your ear only moments after. You laugh and nod, and the two of you hang up your phones.

Almost immediately, his phone starts ringing again, and you put up your hands in innocence.

"JJ," he says into the receiver, pausing for a moment, before saying quickly, "I'll be right there." He hangs up his phone and places it in his pocket, before saying quickly. "Sorry, that was work. I really have to go."

You smile and nod. "You have a job to do. Go save some lives." He smiles and turns to leave, but you call out, "Spencer!" he turns around and you stand up, lean forward, and place a kiss on his cheek. "For good luck."

He grins and walks out of the club. You watch as a couple more people file out, and sit back in your seat and finish your water.

"Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. then your love would also change." –Romeo and Juliet

You're flipping through papers when you hear someone call out to you.

"[Y/N]!" they shout and looking up you see Spencer Reid walking down the hallway towards you, a messenger bag slung around his shoulder. He was wearing something similar to what he was wearing in the club only two nights ago.

"Case ended early?" you ask and he nods.

"Yeah. Child abduction. We had less than forty eight hours to get the child back alive since the family didn't report her missing until twenty four hours had passed," he says.

"And did you? Get the child back alive, I mean," you ask and he nods. You grin.

"Oh, good. So! What are you doing here? You didn't come just to see me, did you?"

Spencer blushes and you place a hand on his arm. "No, Doctor Priya Chopra wanted my help on an article she's going to write about fungal growth on skin and the potential benefits it could have, as well as any side effects it may cause," he says and you nod.

"Well, I can show you to her office! She's new so it wouldn't have updated on any maps yet," you say and Spencer nods.

He stops and you halt in front of him, turning as he says, "Oh! Do you want me to carry any of your papers?"

You smile and shake your head. "No, it's okay. I'll just have to walk back anyways. My office is in the other direction."

"Oh, I don't want you to have to go out of your way. I can probably find it on my own…" Spencer trails off, looking helplessly at the myriad of plain beige hallways.

You shake your head and bump your shoulder with his. "Really. It's not a big deal. I want to do this," you say with a smile. He smiles back and you lead him down a couple hallways, until you stop at a door with a nameplate that reads, 'Dr. Priya Chopra, PHD'.

"Well, this is your stop," you say, almost sad with a slight slump to your shoulders. "With that eidetic memory of yours, I don't think you need me to show you around anymore."

Spencer places a hand on the small of your back and points at the paperwork in your arms. "You look like you could use a little help. How about I come by after my talk with Doctor Chopra? I know where your office is," he says and you grin.

"I would love that, Spencer," you say, and watch him until he disappears behind Doctor Chopra's door.

"One may smile, and smile, and be a villain." –Hamlet

You hear a knock at your door and you look up from your work to see a familiar head pop out from behind the door. You grin and say, "Parker! It's good to see you again! Come in."

The young man with dark circles under his eyes slowly walks into your office, he wrings his hands out in front of him, and sits down in the chair across from yours. He slowly takes his backpack off and reaches in, pulling out a grey folder. The movements were slow and methodical, but you can see the young man's hands shaking slightly as he does so. Finally, he pulls out a stapled stack of papers and holds it out to you.

You take it carefully and frown, looking it over. It was one of his essays that you just gave back a couple days ago with a big red 'F' on the front.

"Why did you fail me?" Parker whispers and you sigh.

You lean back in your chair, folding your fingers on your stomach as you say, "Your essay is all over the place. There isn't a coherent theme or message in any of it. Also, you should really find someone to help edit your grammar at least. You have misspellings and incorrect comma usage all over the place, Parker." The man in question looks down away from you and you sigh again, this time louder and lean forward onto your desk. "How about this. Go to the writing center on campus, find someone to help plan out your essay, and if you do a good job, I'll bump up your score to at least a B, if not more if you do really well, okay?"

Parker looks up at you and gives you a toothy, forced smile, almost as if he doesn't smile much in his life, and says, "Thank you, Mr. [Y/N]."

You smile and nod, handing the paper back to him, and just as someone knocks at your door, he gets up.

Opening the door, Parker comes face to face with Doctor Gerard Holden, professor of microbiology at Georgetown, and the man looks shocked for a moment before steeling his expression and saying over Parker's shoulder, "Dr. [L/N], do you have a minute to talk?"

You smile and nod, before addressing Parker again. "Parker, I want to see that essay on my desk in a week and a half at the most. I hope to see some improvement."

Parker doesn't turn around but he nods and slides out of your office as quickly as he can without touching Dr. Holden. When Parker leaves, the older man walks into your office and closes the door behind him.

"That boy is very strange. I don't know how you put up with him. I've had to kick him out of class before for being disruptive and talking out of turn," he says and you sigh.

"He's a good kid and an even better student. I bet if you pushed him a little more, and actually called on him in class, he wouldn't interrupt so much," you say and the doctor in front of you is pale. "But, I hope you didn't come here to discuss our students."

The man shakes his head and goes into a lengthy question about having you guest lecture during one of his classes. You agree quickly and get the time and date and what you'll be covering before Dr. Holden opens the door to your office.

You see Parker standing on the other side of the door, and you know he heard everything you and Dr. Holden discussed about him.

"They do not love that do not show their love." –The two Gentlemen of Verona

It's a Saturday. You and Spencer are sitting in your apartment reading. Spencer's stack next to him is significantly smaller than yours, and whenever he finishes a book, he places it on your stack. Whenever you finish yours, you place your book on the ground and pick up whatever book Spencer just finished reading.

It's nice.

"If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die." –Twelfth Night

"Come on! I don't want us to miss this!" Spencer exclaims, grabbing your hand, and pulling you along as he runs through the small park.

"Wait! Spencer! I didn't know we were running! I would have brought my inhaler!" you exclaim as you try and keep pace.

Spencer doesn't stop though as he says, "It's not far, now come on!" The two of you continue to run through the trees, and eventually you come upon a clearing. There are a few couples there, but not actually as many as you would have expected. The thing that shocks you the most are the group of college age students all standing around with boxes in their hands.

"Spencer what-"

"Shh!"

You step closer to him, still holding his hand as the students all step up, and take the tops off the boxes. Light start flying out of the uncovered cardboard boxes and you realize that they're lightning bugs.

You gasp as a swarm flies towards you before dispersing into a hazy cloud of blinking yellow and green emanating from the lower abdomen. You reach out and the bugs fly away from your hand in streaks of light and you laugh. You turn, grinning at Spencer's face. He's looking right at you.

In the low glow, you can see Spencer's handsome features on display. His cheekbones are softer in the light, his auburn hair a deep brown and his hazel eyes reflecting spots of green back at you. You reach up and place a hand on his cheek. He looks beautiful.

"What is this?" you ask, breathless.

He smiles softly and you look down at his lips. They look inviting. "The biology majors at Howard under Professor Trudy study fireflies for a semester before releasing them here. Did you know that many fireflies do not produce light? Usually these species are diurnal, or day-flying, such as those in the genus Ellychnia. A few diurnal fireflies that inhabit primarily shadowy places, such as beneath tall plants or trees, are luminescent. One such genus is Lucidota. Non-bioluminescent fireflies use pheromones to signal mates. This is supported by the fact that some basal groups do not show bioluminescence and use chemical signaling, instead. Phosphaenus hemipterus has photic organs, yet is a diurnal firefly and displays large antennae and small eyes. These traits strongly suggest pheromones are used for sexual selection, while photic organs are used for warning signals."

You're silent for a minute before you say, "You said firefly."

Spencer frowns. "Huh?"

"You said firefly. People around here say 'Lightning bug,' which means you're not from around here. Where are you from?" you ask, and his frown subsides.

"Las Vegas," he says and you smile.

"You're a long way from home," you reply, looking around at the lightning bugs floating lazily around you, taking in their new environment. You look back at him and say, "I'm glad you're here Spencer. I'm glad I ran into you at the book shop. Literally," you say, laughing lightly.

"Me too," Spencer says with a small smile on his face.

You lean up and kiss him, quickly, before pulling back, not really giving him a chance to react. He stares at you, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open, before leaning in and capturing his lips in yours again. You lean against him, turning so your front is pressed against his, he places his hands on your hips and you thread yours through his hair and rest them on the back of his neck.

When you pull away, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, but you're so lost in Spencer's eyes you hardly notice.

"I am not bound to please thee with my answers." –The Merchant of Venice

You jump as someone hits their bowl a little too hard with their spoon, causing a loud crashing noise it seems like only you can hear. You can feel your heart rate picking up as another person accidentally drops a glass on the floor, shattering it. Your eyes dart around as people talk loudly over one another, shouting to be heard over the low din of the restaurant.

"[Y/N]!"

You look up at Spencer sharply, your eyes going wide.

"Are you okay?" he asks, reaching a hand out. You nod but don't take his hand, instead picking at your nails underneath the table. "I was just talking about the underlying effects of corsetry in the modern era…" Spencer continues as if nothing is wrong but another loud crash causes you to jump and lose focus from him again.

You hear Spencer sigh and you look up at him, your cheeks flaming up. "Sorry…" you mutter.

"What's wrong?" he asks plainly.

"I-" you begin to say, but flinch as someone laughs loudly at a table nearby you. "I don't really like restaurants. They're too… loud."

Spencer looks at you with that blank stare for a moment before sighing in what you hope is of relief. "Same here. A co-worker of mine suggested I take you out to dinner and when I told him I don't like restaurants either, he just said you would," Spencer explains.

You frown. "Who did he think I was? We read books in your apartment all the time!"

Spencer looks away sheepishly and pulls his hands into his lap. "I haven't used pronouns for you, so he assumed you were a woman."

You snort. "Wouldn't be the first time." Spencer frowns at you. "I've dated a lot of bisexual men with straight colleagues. The co-workers always assume I'm a woman."

Spencer nods, and the two of you are silent once again in the loud restaurant. You flinch once more as something crashes together, and Spencer sighs.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" he asks, almost begging.

You nod enthusiastically. "Yes. Please. We can go back to mine?" Your eyes widen at that. "Not for sex!" you exclaim and a few people look over at you. You blush in embarrassment and say, quieter, "I-I just meant to read or watch a documentary or something. I didn't mean to imply."

Spencer smiles softly. "It's okay. I didn't even realize. I'm not sexually attracted to people."

Your eyes widen and you grin. "Me neither!"

Spencer grins with you and the two of you hastily pay and make a quick exit out of the busy restaurant.

"God hath given you one face, and you make yourself another." –Hamlet

"Mr. [L/N]?"

You jump and look up from your work and see Parker standing in your office. You put a hand over your heart and laugh. "Parker! You scared me!"

"Sorry…" he says, not making eye contact.

You chuckle as you say, "I should put a bell on you…" you see Parker flush a deep red but you ignore it. "So, what can I do you for?"

Silently, still red and blushing, Parker pulls out a stapled stack of papers from his backpack and holds it out to you. You take it and see it's the revised version of his essay you failed last week.

"I did want you asked…" he says quietly and you quickly look over the first page.

You smile up at him, grateful. "Thank you, Parker. I'll get it back to you by the end of the week-"

"NO!" he shouts and you jump at that.

"Parker, I have a lot of work to do and-"

But he cuts you off again, shouting, "No! Get it done now!"

You sigh, knowing he's not going to relent, and you pinch the bridge of your nose. "Okay. How about this. How many classes do you have left today?"

"Two…" Parker says, and you almost miss it seeing as he's so quiet.

You nod. "Okay. How about I work on it while you're in class and you can come back after."

Parker nods and without another word, leaves your office. You sigh loudly and lean your head into your hands.

"I must be cruel only to be kind; Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind." –Hamlet

That night, you're sitting in Spencer's apartment, his head in your lap as you both read. You can't help but think of Parker, of hearing him yell for the first time since you met him. The boy was always so quiet, except in class where he was engaged and able to answer every question, even if his answers were a little all over the place.

"[Y/N]?" You hear Spencer ask and you look down at him, dazed.

"Huh?"

"You haven't even looked at your book for six minutes and twenty-seven seconds," Spencer says and you frown. You put your book face down next to you on the side table and rub your hands over your face. You feel hands at your wrists, and they tug slightly, pulling your hands away from your face. "What's going on?"

"Just a student of mine yelled at me today," you say. Spencer frowns and you lean down, kissing where his brow was furrowed. "It's okay. I've just never seen him even raise his voice above a whisper besides when we're in class. And even then he doesn't yell." You pause, and sit back up. Spencer sits up as well and lets go of your wrists, leaning into your side. "A lot of the students and faculty don't like him because he's disruptive in class, but I know he's a good student. He's driven and knows a lot. He just needs to be pushed in the right way." You sigh again and lean over to rest your head on Spencer's shoulder. "I told him that I would finish editing his essay by the end of the week but he yelled at me, telling me to finish it right then and there. I told him I would finish it by the end of the day. I knew he wasn't going to stop asking, so I made a compromise I thought he could live with."

You look up at Spencer's face and see him frowning. "How long has he been like this with you?"

You let out a huff of humorless laughter. "What, you jealous?" you ask, joking.

Some of the tension eases from Spencer's face but he doesn't stop frowning.

"No, I'm not jealous. I'm just cautious." He looks into your eyes as he says, "You should be too."

You sigh and lean down, kissing him. "I know. I will be. I just don't want to push him away. I think I'm the only friendly face he has around campus…"

Spencer nods, and opens his mouth as if to say something, but he closes it, and the two of you spend the rest of your evening in silence, unanswered questions lingering in the air between you.

"Go wisely and slowly. Those who rush stumble and fall." –Romeo and Juliet

"You okay?" you ask Spencer one night while you're sitting on your bed together, watching something on your laptop. Tonight you were trying to get him into Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but he seemed more distracted than normal.

He looks up at you, a glazed look in his eyes before sighing. "The case we finished today? It was a stalker case. This man was in love with this woman and we had to make her tell him she was in love with him to get him to let his guard down," Spencer explains and you turn to face him, not saying anything. "We shot him. In the end. He died while the woman was sobbing into her husband's arms." You reach out and place a hand near Spencer, not touching him. He reaches out and takes your hand, kissing it. "I just keep thinking about how she'll never feel safe around another man again."

"You did what you could and you saved her life, Spencer," you say quietly and he looks at you sadly. "I'm so proud of you."

"But what about the people we can't save?"

You sigh and kiss Spencer lightly. "You can't think about that. Think about the families you saved, the women, the children. You saved a life! That's amazing, Spencer."

Spencer smiles and nods but he doesn't look convinced. You just kiss him again and go back to watching Buffy.

"<i>For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?</i>" –Much Ado About Nothing

You startle as a knock sounds at your door. You aren't expecting visitors. Spencer's out with work, and he said not to expect him back for a few days. It's only been two, and he can't have caught the guy that quickly already.

But when you open your door, Spencer is standing there, his eyes puffy and red, and before you can ask any questions, he's pushing himself into your arms. You stumble back and close the door before sinking to the floor, letting Spencer cry into your arms.

"Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, But Lust's effect is tempest after sun. Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain; Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done. Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies; Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies." –Venus and Adonis

"I love you," you say one evening while you're sitting on the couch, Spencer's head in your lap. You're running your fingers through his hair as you say this, making it fan out around his head like a halo of auburn curls.

He cracks an eye open at you and smiles. "Really?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes. I do. And I just thought I should say it," you say, and Spencer sits up, leaning in to kiss you. You put your hands on his cheeks and smile into the soft kiss.

He pulls away and says, "I want you to meet my mom."

Your eyes go wide and you open your mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out. You frown before asking, "When?"

"I have some vacation time saved and we could wait until summer break!" Spencer exclaims, causing your frown to drop. "You're not teaching again until the second half of summer break, so we can see her then."

"I've never been to the west coast before…" you say, trailing off and looking away. Spencer goes to say something but you cut him off with a smile. "But, that's okay. I want to meet her."

Spencer grins and grabs your face, kissing you like his life depends on it. You laugh as he gets up and runs out of the living room, whooping with joy.

"I love you, Spencer Reid!" you shout.

"Love you too!" he shouts back.

"Lovers and madmen have such seething brains Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends." –A Midsummer Night's Dream

It's a week until the end of term, finals right around the corner, and you have been stuck in your office for most of the day. Most of the week actually. You gave your students the last few days off to study for their finals, and to finish their final essays for you while you finished editing the last of their work before you were bombarded with essays and tests.

Your phone rings on your desk, but you turn off the noise, groaning as the red light beeps incessantly. It's been doing that for the past half an hour. You even had to turn your mobile off and shove it into an unused drawer of your desk.

After another five minutes of the light beeping, you pick up your phone.

"WHAT!" you scream into the receiver.

"Uh, Dr. [L/N]?" you hear someone say quietly into the phone.

"You know, I'm very busy right now and I can't handle distractions so if you would just-"

"Someone's shooting up the school."

Your blood runs cold as a knock sounds at your door, and you watch the knob turning. You gulp as the voice on the other end of the line tries to get your attention, but you can't hear them. All you can hear is the creak of your door as it's slowly pushed open.

"Mr. [Y/N]!" You hear someone shout as they enter your office. It's Parker. And he's holding a gun. "I thought I heard you in here! Who are you talking to?"

You go to answer, but the words die in your throat.

"I- I don't actually know. They-they were calling to tell me about you," you say finally, hanging up the phone as the person yells on the other side of the line.

Parker closes your door and walks over to your desk with a happy smile on his face. "I came to get you, [Y/N]," he says, and you force a smile onto your face.

"Really?" you ask, hoping your nervousness doesn't give anything away.

He nods. "It's just you and me now! Forever!"

You gulp, but smile. "Uh huh…"

"The only thing left in our way is that whore who calls himself your boyfriend…" Parker says, and your smile drops.

"Spencer?" you can't help the wavering in your voice as you say his name.

Parker nods and places his hand against his chin. "Yes. Maybe you can call him? I'm sure he's already on his way over here."

You gulp, but nod. You pick up your desk phone and dial Spencer's number from memory. While your memory may not be anywhere close to as good as his, you forced yourself to memorize it in case it was an emergency.

After the first ring, the phone is picked up. "[Y/N]? Are you okay? I've tried calling you for the past twenty minutes and you haven't picked up!" Spencer exclaims on the other end of the line.

You take a deep breath before looking up at Parker, who's smiling expectantly at you. He nods. "Spencer, can you come to my office?"

"I'm outside. Is everything okay?" he asks.

"Tell him to leave his gun and vest outside," Parker whispers and you nod.

"You need to leave your gun and vest outside," you say, your voice shaking with every word.

"Oh!" Parker exclaims and leans forward. "And tell him if he doesn't do all that, I'm going to kill you."

You let out a sob and say into the phone, shaking, "If you don't do what's been asked, he's going to- he's going to kill me, oh!" you exclaim, another sob escaping your lips. You hear Spencer start to say something, but Parker puts a finger down on the plunger and you hear the dial tone in your ear. You slowly take the phone away from your ear and look at it shaking in your grip.

You watch absently as Parker's fingers brush yours, getting you to open your hand, and you let him take the phone, and put it back down on your desk.

You keep staring off into the middle distance, even as Parker's hand rests on your chin. He turns your head and your eyes lock onto his. You can see the simmering rage bubbling underneath the feigned love that he's projecting. It's probably not even conscious. You don't know if a man like him even <i>could</i> fall in love.

You hear a knock at your door and Parker moves away from you, but grabs your arm forcefully. Your hips push into the desk painfully and you let out a small whimper. Parker's hand on your arm relaxes slightly and he pulls you around your desk to stand next to him at his side, his gun pointed at the dark wooden door that is slowly opening.

You see Spencer slowly pushing the door open, his other hand raised to show he's unarmed.

"Stay there," Parker says, holding his gun level at Spencer's chest.

"Okay. Okay," Spencer says, putting his other hand up. "No one needs to get hurt."

Parker shakes his head. "No. No. They do. They're going to come in the way of us!"

Parker looks down at you and you look up at him, wide eyed. "No, they won't. No one can come in between us," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "Spencer's right. No one needs to get hurt."

Parker closes his eyes and shakes his head again. "Spencer, Spencer… Why Spencer? Why him? Why not me?"

You grab his arm and say, "It is you, Parker! It will always be you!" you look over at Spencer, asking with your eyes if you're doing a good job, if this is what you should be doing. He gives you a miniscule nod. You remembered from before when you talked about guys like Parker. "I don't love Spencer. I love you."

Your heart breaks as you say this, but you know that Spencer knows it isn't true. Parker's the only one who needs to believe it.

"Say it," he says, before looking over at the man in question, "to him."

You gulp and look at Spencer, leaning more into Parker's side as you say, "Spencer, I don't love you. I never loved you. I'm in love with Parker. Nothing will be able to keep up apart."

"[Y/N]..." Spencer says, heartbreak evident on his face. Either he's a really good actor or he actually believes it. You sincerely hope it's the former.

Parker nods when you look at him, and grins. "Let's get out of here…" he says, holding out his hand. You take it gingerly and he pulls your back to his chest, still holding Spencer at gunpoint. He flicks the gun further into your office, and Spencer moves with his hands up, tears streaming from his face as he moves across from you in the room.

Parker backs up slowly through the room towards the door, his gun still pointed at Spencer. As soon as he steps out into the hallway, you hear the gunshot.

You feel Parker fall behind you, and you run back into your office, falling to the floor, and only then do you start crying. You sob loudly, and when you're pulled into a chest, you only cry harder.

You hear Spencer whispering to you, and you feel his tears on your hair, your neck as he says, "I can't lose you too. I can't. I just can't…"

You pull him closer, pulling your legs to your chest as you sob, "I love you. I love you so much. I didn't mean anything I said!"

"I know," he whispers, kissing your head. "I know."

"I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest." –Much Ado About Nothing

"I've never been to Vegas before!" you exclaim as you get off the plane. "Can we go to any casinos? I've never gambled before!"

Spencer chuckles as he grabs your hand, pulling you through the airport. "We'll see. I've been banned from a few, so I don't know if they'll let me in…" he says, trailing off and you laugh. "Did you know that what most people think of as Las Vegas is actually called Paradise? In the late 1940s, after the second world war was over, the city of Las Vegas actually banned gambling. The rich gamblers in town weren't happy with that so they created a town called Paradise and made gaming legal there. Well, it's not a town, but more like unincorporated land that doesn't follow Las Vegas' laws."

You grin and grab your bag when it comes around. While Spencer was talking, you had gone to the baggage claim and your bag had already been around once. While Spencer was used to traveling light, with only a go bag, you were not.

"I did not know that," you say, leaning up to kiss his cheek as he pulls out towards the exit.

You get the car he rented and you let him drive you to Bennington. He wanted to go back to the hotel for a night before seeing his mom, but you didn't want him to waste any more time. You would freshen up after.

You and Spencer are ushered through the sterilized, but still personable, halls of the sanitarium, and into a large room with a couple of other people in it. You see a blonde, short haired woman sitting on a couch and Spencer starts walking over to her.

When she sees him, her face lights up and she exclaims, "Spencer!"

"Hey mom," he says, giving her a wave. "I wanted to introduce you to someone."

She turns and looks you up and down, before wringing her hands out and looking at her son. "Is this the man you told me about in your letters?"

Your eyebrows raise at that and you ask Spencer, "You talked to her about me?" he looks at you, nervous, but you smile. "All good things, I hope." He grins and grabs your hand. You turn to Diana and hold out your hand. "Hi. I'm Dr. [Y/N] [L/N]. Spencer's told me so much about you. He really loves you."

She smiles and takes your hand lightly before letting go. "Yes, he's told me a lot about you too. He loves you too," she says, and you smile at him.

"And I love him," you reply.

"Journeys end in lovers' meeting; every wise man's son doth know" –Twelfth Night

#Spencer reid #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x you #spencer read x reader #diana reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #my work #my writing

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Not So Serious

Prompt: ayoooo I’m like-obsessed with your writing style omg if your requests are open I’d love to see some good good logince hurt/comfort where Roman has a crush on Logan and gets this idea that he’s not serious enough for Logan to like him at all so Roman completely changes himself only for Logan to wonder where the man he’s in love with went.

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: logince, as on the tin

Warnings: roman’s a little bit of a self-doubting and self-depricating boi but other than that none! we are happy now!

Word Count: 5340

Roman knows he’s the least important of the Light Sides. Or at the very least, the one that Thomas listens to the least.

That’s okay.

It’s not, not really, but that doesn’t matter.

What does matter is that most of it can be chalked up to the fact that he’s the least serious Side. He’s the dreamer, the fanatic, the one whose head is permanently in the clouds. He sings, he dances, he acts, he plays. And that’s his job! He’s Creativity, for Shakespeare’s sake, and if he’s not, well, what good is he?

Well, he’s not much good when he is Creativity, but that’s beside the point.

But Thomas needs him to be serious. Patton, for all his lightheartedness, knows how to be serious when the time calls for it. And behind all those jokes and smiles and corny lines that make all of them want to cringe a little, he’s talking about, arguably, the most serious thing there is. What’s right and what’s wrong. No matter how you slice it, that’s serious. And he’s Thomas’s heart! How can you not take that seriously?

Then there’s Virgil, who Roman considers a Light Side. Virgil demands to be taken seriously. Not verbally, but come on, he’s Anxiety. Mental stuff is no joke, and they’ve had enough close calls to know that for sure. Virgil’s a snarky bastard, but he rarely says something he doesn’t actually mean. He keeps them safe when none of the others know what to do and honestly? That’s serious stuff. Virgil’s got enough on his plate.

Then there’s Logan.

Logan.

Roman could go on for days about Logan. He won’t, but he could.

Logan is Logic. Perhaps more than anything else, Thomas needs Logic. And Logan. Logan is always present, whether he’s there physically or not, and his voice is always going to be heard in the conversation sooner or later. He breaks down the biggest problems Roman’s ever seen until they’re manageable chunks, so much so that it’s ridiculous that they were ever big in the first place. He talks them through everything, slowly and surely. He makes everything look easy.

And that’s all the more impressive because Roman knows it’s not.

It’s not easy to do what Logan does. It’s not easy for Logan to always make himself heard. It’s not easy to carry the single brain cell in any given conversation.

But he does and it’s wonderful.

Logan is serious. His job is serious. That doesn’t mean he’s serious all the time, no, Roman’s seen him snap a quip faster than anything with a smirk on his face, and their bond over Crofter’s is legendary. And he knows the gleam that means Logan is immensely satisfied with whatever insult he’s come up with to shut Roman down. Even through the hurt of a new bruise forming on Thomas’s ego, he has to smile because it’s so satisfying to watch someone just be very good at something.

He’s also incredible at calming them all down. He’s so sweet and kind and gentle in all the right ways and you will never convince Roman that Logan knows nothing about emotions. Come on, he’s the most intelligent Side, that extends to emotional intelligence too. The amount of times he’s been able to rip them out of some horrible spiral with just a simple touch or a word is too high for Roman to count. And he never asks for anything, he just does it. Because he’s good like that.

Roman would be an utter, utter fool if he didn’t take Logan seriously. He doesn’t dare underestimate him, never again, not after that rap battle. He doesn’t try to speak over him, not once everyone’s actually paying attention and Logan’s clearly trying to say something. He listens, he tries, he takes him seriously.

But sometimes Logan needs to not be serious! He can see when the strain gets a little too much and he needs to cut someone down to size.

Well, here’s Roman!

And yes, it’s worth it. It’s always worth it. Logan smiles and it’s like the sun comes out. Yes, that’s a cliché but we all know clichés are cliché for a reason. Logan smiles, the sun comes out, and Roman wants to bathe in it. Wants to sit and listen to Logan talk about anything just so he’ll keep smiling, keep talking, keep being Logan. Logan is serious, but serious isn’t always Logan.

Isn’t always.

Most of the time, though…

Most of the time, it looks like Logan is thrilled to not have to stand next to Roman.

Most of the time, it seems like every time Roman opens his mouth, Logan’s trying not to roll his eyes or is just listening out of politeness. And every time he pitches an idea, it seems like Logan’s getting just as much enjoyment out of leaving the meetings as he does when he doesn’t find anything wrong with it.

Most of the time, that 0.5% hangs in the air between them like a moat.

Roman doesn’t want that. Roman doesn’t want Logan to view him as a diametrically opposed foe, he doesn’t want to be Logan’s other side of the coin, he doesn’t want Logan to think he’s only worth 0.5% of a day.

But 0.5% is all he gets if he stays Roman.

It’s not big changes, nothing that would compromise Thomas, but they’re noticeable. At least he hopes so.

He stops singing out loud in the common areas and instead has a headphone in when he wants to listen to something. He reads in the chair—sitting properly, not with his limbs haphazardly thrown about like he’s a newly made life form with no idea how muscles work—and keeps his comments to himself, written down in a notebook or in his head. He asks politely if Logan wants to come on a walk through the Imagination and conjures up something simple. A forest path, or a garden, or a small town road. None of the fantastical woods, magic castles, or treacherous mountains that he’s so fond of, because those are daydreams.

He’s quieter outside of videos. Sure, he’s still as obnoxious as ever when the cameras are on, but they tend to exaggerate themselves when they’re being filmed anyway. So it won’t be too much of a surprise when he’s not like that when the cameras are off. He doesn’t speak as much—well, he doesn’t monologue as much. He speaks when spoken to, he’s as courteous as he knows how to be, and he tries to be serious. Even if his job is anything but.

He could tell you it’s exhausting what he does for the videos and he’d rather not do it when he doesn’t have to.

He could tell you it’s because it would be better for Thomas if they all got along well.

He could tell you it’s because he wants a healthier and more productive working relationship with Logan.

He could tell you all of these things.

Whether or not you believe him is up to you.

…because Roman might be the actor, but he’s never been a particularly good liar. And deep down—not that deep down—we all know why he wants to be more serious, don’t we?

Logan doesn’t like fantasy. Logan doesn’t like excessive noise. Logan doesn’t like someone who can’t be serious.

Logan is kind and perfect and wonderful and smart and so many things.

And above all, Logan is serious.

Roman can work with that.

———————————————————————

“Hey, Specs! Do you have time to brainstorm?”

“It will have to be quick, Roman, I’ve not much time to spare.”

“Oh. That’s alright, then, we can do it later.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course! I know how important your schedule is for you, please, don’t worry about it.”

“Ah. I see. Well, thank you, Roman.”

They never do end up having that brainstorm. Not alone.

“Logan?”

“Yes, Roman?”

“Would it be alright if I played music? I’ll keep it low.”

“…we can try, though I usually prefer working in silence.”

“Oh, in that case, I’ll just go—“

“Let’s try?”

“If you’re sure.”

Roman ends up getting his headphones after a few minutes.

“Roman?”

“Yes, my d—Logan?”

“…were you going to say something else?”

“No, no, I got lost in my head again, I thought you were…someone else.”

“It may be worth practicing getting out of your head, Roman.”

“I know.”

He never quite manages, but he’s trying.

“Ro—oh.”

“Logan? Is something wrong?”

“You’ve changed your room. Your…your paintings, your drawings, they’re…where did you put them?”

“Oh, I got rid of them.”

“Got rid of them?”

“Yes. Surely you know how difficult it can be to work in a crowded space?”

“…yes, I suppose I do.”

Logan doesn’t comment on the fact that Roman’s room isn’t quite so red anymore either.

“Roman?”

“Yes?”

“This idea, it seems…quite…realistic.”

“Is that not the point, Sp—Logan?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so.”

“Besides, from a practical standpoint, we’re operating with a limited budget here. The scope of the videos has to be adjusted accordingly.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re correct.”

Logan doesn’t mention that it doesn’t necessarily feel like Roman’s idea.

“Roman?”

“Yes?”

“Care to comment?”

“Oh, no, I’m perfectly content.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course.”

Logan doesn’t ask again.

———————————————————————

Logan is really confused.

Something’s wrong with Roman, that much is obvious, but he can’t figure out what. Roman’s been quiet lately, outside of the videos, but even in the videos, he’s been different. He’s not talking as much anymore, not going on his incredibly passionate rants that one can feel if they just listen hard enough. He’s not risen to the bait for weeks now, preferring instead to…talk. Or listen. His room is suspiciously absent of his paintings and drawings that make Logan want to sit and stare and lose track of time.

And he’s stopped singing.

That’s a definite indicator that something’s wrong.

But he can’t figure out what.

None of them are fighting; Patton and Virgil have noticed that something is different, certainly, but they don’t know—they can’t figure out exactly what. They would have told him if they had a disagreement with Roman, but they haven’t.

Thomas isn’t being affected by it. In fact, he hasn’t noticed that anything’s wrong.

And on the surface, Roman seems fine, but Logan knows better.

He stops in front of his whiteboard, staring hard at the pieces of information he has written down.

Roman is no longer singing or playing music out loud outside of his room.

Roman is changing the ideas that he brings to the brainstorming sessions. He claims they are meant to be more ‘practical’ and easier to budget.

Roman does not insist that we spend time with him anymore.

Roman is quiet and no longer engages in ‘banter’ exchanges with me.

Roman no longer brings me to the elaborate places in the Imagination.

Roman no longer gives me nicknames.

Has…has Logan done something to Roman?

He doesn’t think he has. He hasn’t—he hasn’t shot down any ideas lately, and certainly none so much as to trigger such a drastic change. There have been no arguments. There have been no big changes for Thomas.

He finds himself twisting the cap of the marker back and forth as he focuses on the period at the end of the last sentence written. Perhaps…perhaps Roman is simply going through a rough patch? Occasionally the prince will lapse into a ‘grayer’ state, for lack of a better term, where he exhibits fewer of his energetic tendencies, but none have gone on for such a duration. Additionally, his behavior in videos has not altered as significantly as would indicate this as the cause.

Perhaps I should try to talk to him about it.

Logan nods sharply to himself and turns, walking out of his room toward Roman’s. The red door looms there, slightly ajar. Frowning, Logan raps on it gently with his knuckles.

“Roman? May I come in?”

No response.

“Roman?” Logan eases the door open. “Roman?”

No sign of Roman. The bathroom door isn’t locked, his laptop isn’t open, his phone is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Roman simply forgot to close his door all the way. Logan shuts it carefully and turns to head downstairs.

“Virgil? Patton?”

Virgil glances up from his phone. “What’s up, L?”

Ignoring the little flutter in his chest at the first nickname he’s been called in a while, Logan adjusts his glasses and glances around. “Have you seen Roman?”

Virgil shakes his head. “Pat? Have you?”

“I think he said he was going into the Imagination but he’d be back for dinner?”

Logan nods. “Thank you both.”

“Logan?”

“Yes?”

“Can you, uh—“ Patton wrings his hands for a moment— “can you ask him what’s wrong for us?”

“Princey’s been off for a while, we wanna know why but he won’t tell us.”

Logan blinks. “Considering I was on my way to ask him the same thing, I take it he’s been as…hesitant to share any information with you as he has with me?”

Their nods make something twist in his chest.

“If he’s gonna tell anyone,” Virgil mutters as he turns to go, “it’ll be you.”

Logan pauses. “Excuse me?”

Virgil shrugs. “You’re his favorite, L. He thinks the sun shines outta your face.”

Despite himself, Logan feels heat rush to his cheeks. “I’m quite sure you’re confusing me for Patton, Virgil.”

“Oh, no, Princey’s got it bad f—“

“Virgil!”

“Oh come on,” Virgil groans, his head lolling on the couch as he turns to look at Patton, “you’ve noticed it too.”

“But that’s not our secret to tell!”

“Shit. Yeah, you’re right. Oops.”

“Wait, wait,” Logan stammers, quickly trying to get a grasp of the situation, “you—Roman what?”

Virgil shakes his head. “Nope. Sorry, Logan. I already fucked up. You’re gonna have to ask him. And hey, you were on your way to do just that!”

Logan narrows his eyes but Virgil shrugs, undaunted. He turns and pointedly does not run up the stairs.

The door to the Imagination is ajar. He takes a deep breath and pushes it open, expecting to meet some fantastical landscape, a village, or a castle, perhaps.

He doesn’t expect to wander into what looks like the grand foyer of some Victorian mansion.

The door shuts behind him with a thud that echoes gently around the room. His shoes aren’t particularly loud but his steps make resounding clicks as he walks through the halls. The walls are elegantly crafted, with artful splashes of color here and there. He comes to a grand staircase and has to swallow heavily at the richness of the wood under his fingers as he climbs slowly, slowly up.

There’s something here, he decides, that’s not been here for a while. Not since he started accompanying Roman more often. He remembers the first time, where he’d wearily said he didn’t have the patience for an adventure and had been pleasantly surprised by Roman’s offer of a simple walk. Each walk after that had been lovely, truly, but it was always painfully obvious that it was in the Imagination.

Now, though? Now the walls seem to curve about Logan as he walks, like petals of a flower curve about its center. The house seems to hold him, cradle him almost as he walks slowly through it. He can almost feel a gentle hand at the base of his spine, between his shoulder blades, under his chin. It takes no effort to keep walking, to discover more and more of this truly beautiful house, to look and look and look without fear of his eyes hurting or his head growing weary.

It feels like Roman, he realizes with a giddy bubble in his chest, this is Roman’s work. Roman is here.

That realization gives him enough courage to call out.

“Roman? Roman, are you here?”

“Logan?”

“Roman!” He turns around, trying to trace the echoes to their source. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the library, keep walking toward the back of the hall.”

Logan’s steps beat out an eager pace as he begins to hurry towards Roman’s voice. He meets a wide set of mahogany doors and pushes them open, looking for—

“Oh,” he murmurs as the doors swing wide, “oh, this is…magnificent.”

If he were—well, if he were Roman, he’d compare this to the library the Beast gifts Belle. The shelves tower over his head, two full floors of books stretching out almost as far as he can see. As he looks closer, he realizes this is a theatre, with the seats replaced with shelves. At the back of the library stands the stage, converted into a seating area with as many plush couches and overstuffed armchairs as one could ever want. Curtains drape themselves across a vast window, golden sunlight streaming inside. And on the window seat, standing as the doors fly open, is Roman.

“Roman, my goodness—“

“Whoa, easy, Logan,” Roman chuckles, catching Logan carefully by the elbows as he rushes through the library, “you’ll knock yourself over at this rate.”

“This is magnificent,” Logan manages, still looking around in awe—goodness, there are some books here that he’s only seen in passing— “how—how did you do this?”

“I’ve always had it,” Roman says, guiding him to sit on the window seat and crouching in front of him, “it’s my library.”

“This—this is yours?”

Half of Roman’s mouth tugs up into that crooked smile. “Yeah, Logan. This is mine. You didn’t think I just let my books lie around, did you?”

“But you—you—you’ve never shown this to me. To anyone.”

The smile falters. “Well, no.”

Logan takes a moment to actually look at Roman. Roman quirks his eyebrow as he notices the questioning gaze. His costume is a little less pristine than normal. There’s something slightly different about his expression. And his sword is nowhere to be seen.

“May I—can I ask why not?”

Roman smiles ruefully, glancing over Logan’s shoulder before dropping his gaze to the ground.

“When I need to think,” he says after a moment, “or just…sit for a little, I come here.”

He rests his hand on the seat next to Logan.

“I sit right here, and I think. I look outside into the garden. I watch the clouds. Or I stare at the shelves, and think about the books.”

He gestures behind him.

“Sometimes I’ll see people bustling through them, or characters diving in between pages.” The smile becomes a touch more wistful. “Or I’ll hear water rushing, or wind howling.”

He looks back. Logan’s mouth drops open at the openness of Roman’s expression.

“But mostly,” he finishes in a near whisper, “I just sit. And think. Because I can.”

“…this is your space,” Logan mumbles as he puts it together, “that’s…that’s why you haven’t shown anyone.”

Roman nods.

Logan should apologize. He should apologize and leave. He should never have expected that this would be alright.

But the thought of leaving this library, this house, Roman feels…so, so heavy.

“It’s alright, Logan,” Roman says patiently, sitting on the floor, “what did you need? Am I late for dinner?”

He shakes himself, sternly reminding his brain that he’s being rude now. “No, no, nothing of the sort, I simply needed to find you.”

Roman spreads his arms wide. “Well, you found me. Congratulations.”

It’s so close to the banter Logan misses that he finds himself smiling. “Thank you. Shall I assume to claim my prize now, then?”

“Mm, and what prize would that be?”

Roman blinks up at him expectantly when he doesn’t answer right away. There are several questions on the tip of his tongue and they war with each other.

What’s wrong?

Are you alright?

Did something happen?

The others and I have noticed changes in your behavior, could you explain them?

Did I do something wrong?

Can I stay here?

What did Virgil almost tell me?

“I’ve lost something,” Logan blurts instead, swallowing the lump in his throat when Roman blinks again, startled, “and I need you to help me find it.”

“Oh. Well, that should be easy enough. Where did you last see it?”

“Wait!”

Logan catches a startled Roman by his sleeve as he’s in the middle of getting up. He sits back down slowly, still staring at Logan.

“I don’t know where I lost it,” he says, because it’s the truth. Even for all his immaculate time-keeping, he can’t pinpoint the moment he lost Roman.

“That does make it more difficult,” Roman muses, tapping his fingers on his chin, “well, can you tell me what it is? Maybe I’ve seen it.”

I’m sure you have.

Logan takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t realize it was gone, at first,” he begins, “only that it—something changed. It was quieter. Rooms felt less…I believe ‘alive’ is the only word I can use to adequately describe it.”

Roman catches on to the fact he’s speaking about something abstract quickly. Though, of course he did, he’s very intelligent. He sits up a little straighter and takes Logan’s hand in both of his. That in itself is enough to make Logan swallow again.

“It was more difficult to continue working,” he says after a moment, looking at the ground, “because I didn’t know what was missing. I didn’t know whether the fault lay with myself or with Thomas or how to go about fixing it. I couldn’t think of anything.”

Roman makes a noise of sympathy, squeezing Logan’s hand.

“Of course, once I realized it was missing, I did all I could to find it.” He adjusts his glasses. “I gathered all the information I could to see what had gone wrong.”

“And,” Roman prompts gently, “what did you find?”

“It’s not in my room. It’s not in the kitchen. It’s not in the Imagination, or at least it wasn’t when I was there.”

Logan closes his eyes.

“It doesn’t make me fight back a smile every time I see it, because I am only concerned. It doesn’t make me look forward to seeing it, because it doesn’t seem to be happy to see me. It doesn’t make me want to say how important it is to me, because it doesn’t—“

“…doesn’t what, Logan?”

“…it doesn’t even give me a nickname anymore.”

Roman freezes.

Logan opens his eyes and looks at Roman, seeing his face turn pale.

“I’ve lost the one I love,” he confesses, “and I don’t know where he’s gone.”

———————————————————————

Roman’s heart stops.

Logan—Logan—L—

Logan loves him?

“Please,” Logan says in that soft, soft voice that makes Roman want to combust, “can you help me find him?”

“Wait, wait, Logan, you—you what?”

Logan shifts forward, cupping Roman’s hand. “Where did you go, Roman? Something happened, you left.”

“N-no, Logan, I didn’t go anywhere.”

“You did,” he corrects, “you…you’ve been different. You’ve been quieter, you haven’t taken me on any adventures—“

“I’ve taken you into the Imagination!”

“—and you stopped singing,” Logan finishes. Roman’s chest throbs with the way Logan’s voice cracks on the last word. “You left, Roman, where did you go?”

“I—I was trying to—to—“ Roman swallows heavily. “Wait, you love me?”

Logan blinks, tilting his head. “Of course, yes, I love you, Roman.”

Roman’s face flares. “You can’t—you can’t just say that, Logan.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll believe you. I’ll—“ the urge to bury his face in his hands burns but he can’t, can’t pull away from Logan—“I’ll believe you.”

Logan hums. “And why shouldn’t you believe me?”

An incredulous laugh forces its way out of his throat. “Because you can’t love me.”

He slams his eyes shut as Logan starts to move away. He’s ruined it. He’s ruined so much of his hard work. He’s destroyed it. He’s hurt Logan. How could he?

“And why can’t I love you, Roman?”

He laughs again, though this one might be technically considered a sob. “Because I’m loud! I’m obnoxious, I want to spend all my time daydreaming, I’m so out of touch with the real world, I never want to be serious, I’m—I’m—“

“Passionate,” Logan interrupts quietly, something still cupping his hand, “optimistic. Hardworking.”

Roman huffs. “That’s not special.”

“Intelligent.”

Now he does laugh. “Not compared to you.”

Logan’s stifled noise is enough to make him open his eyes. He frowns up at Logan. He looks…heartbroken.

“Roman,” he murmurs, “do you honestly believe that?”

He squirms uncomfortably on the floor. “…it’s not like it isn’t obvious. El principe es estupido.”

“It’s far from obvious, Roman,” Logan insists, “why do you think I enjoy our verbal sparring so much?”

“You what?”

“I respect and admire your intelligence. You’re—well, not to insult the others when they’re not here to defend themselves, but you’re the only one who really keeps up with me.” Logan smiles at him. He smiles at him. “And you’re kind, Roman. Relentlessly so, sometimes.”

Roman can only gape at him.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed everything you do,” Logan chides gently, “I do notice. And I am so thankful for it. But this…” He gives Roman’s hand another squeeze. “This I don’t understand. Where did you go, Roman?”

“I—I…” Roman swallows. “I thought I was doing it for you.”

“For me?”

“Y-you like serious things! You don’t want to be seen as a joke and I’ve never seen you as a joke, Logan, you have to believe me, and I thought that—that I—“

“Roman—“

“I make fun of the things I love, Logan!” Roman’s throat almost aches from the strain of saying it out loud. “And you—you don’t like it when we’re not serious and I’m not serious so I—I thought if I—if—if—“

“You changed so I would…love you?”

Roman shakes his head shamefully. “So you would tolerate me.”

“Oh, little star—“

Roman lets out an oof as Logan tugs him forward, his knees hitting the ground roughly as he pulls Roman into a hug. He’s warm, he’s so warm and so Logan…the frames of his glasses are cool against the side of Roman’s face, the knot of his tie pressing into the hollow of his chest. And he’s being so sweet, so tender as he holds Roman on the floor of the library.

Roman clutches him back. It’s been agony, not being able to touch him, not even the barest brush of shoulders or knocking their elbows together. But now Logan is here and he can have this.

“I don’t want serious,” he hears Logan murmur, “not from you. Alright, sometimes, yes, I want you to listen but never to be that serious. You’re—you’re you, Roman. That’s what I want.”

Oh.

He laughs as the tears start to fall onto Logan’s collar. “You found me, Logan.”

Logan just gives him a squeeze. “I did, little star.”

Oh, Roman was not prepared for that. Instead, he can hear Logan chuckle as he tenses for a moment.

“No?”

“Yes,” Roman blurts out quickly, fumbling with his clumsy tongue, “yes. So much yes.”

“Yes, it is then, little star.”

He hums contentedly, burying his nose in the crook of Logan’s neck. “You found me,” he whispers, rocking them back and forth, “and I found you.”

“Yes, little star, you found me.” Logan pulls back to cup his face, a comforting noise escaping him at the evidence of drying tears. “And now…please, don’t leave me?”

“Never, Logan,” he swears, “never again.”

He gets to see that wonderful soft glow on Logan’s face for a moment longer before that gleam—oh, that wonderful gleam—comes back as he arches an eyebrow.

“No? Then why am I still ‘Logan?’”

Oh. So that’s how this is going to go, hmm? Roman lets a little more darkness slip into his smirk than he normally would. It only grows wider as Logan looks a little surprised.

“My dearest darling nerd,” he purrs, “if you wanted me to lavish you with pet names, you know you need only ask.”

“That is not what I meant,” Logan says firmly, undone a little by the blush now fanning his cheeks.

Roman chuckles. “Oh, what’s wrong, my sweet little pi, is this not what you wanted?”

“R-Roman!”

“Goodness, Logan, your face is so warm.” Roman’s arms come up to hug him as he buries his face in his neck. “What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

“You’re one to talk,” comes the slightly muffled reply, “you were blushing from my pet name too.”

“Ah, yes, how could I forget? ‘Little star,’ well…” Roman cups the back of Logan’s neck and brings that darling face back out to smile at. “If I’m the star, then you must be the whole galaxy.”

Logan tries to frown. Bless him, he tries, but he’s so flustered that it turns into this adorable pout as he leans back to get up.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Roman chuckles, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around him, “you stay right here in my lap.”

“Roman!”

“What?” He tilts his head. “Can you think of anywhere better to be than right here, in my lap…with me?”

He can’t help the note of vulnerability that slips in at the end. Maybe Logan doesn’t want this, maybe he is too much, maybe he just ruined it…

“No,” Logan murmurs after a moment, “I guess I can’t.”

And really, it is marvelous, there on the floor, golden sunlight streaming over them, in the library, surrounded by the quiet shelves and safe hallways of the house.

———————————————————————

“I have to ask,” Roman says, giving Logan a little shake after a moment, “how did you…?”

“Find out?”

“Mm.”

“Well…” Logan toys with Roman’s collar. “I was coming to ask you about it anyway, but Virgil—“

“Virgil?” Roman raises an eyebrow. “He said something now, did he?”

Logan squints at him. “…why do I have a feeling there’s more to this than you’re telling me?”

Roman shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter, not really.”

“Now that I don’t believe for an instant.”

“It got me my Logan,” Roman says softly, leaning forward to rub their noses together, “didn’t it?”

“…well yes, I suppose it did.”

Roman hums contentedly, cuddling into Logan like a lazy cat, sprawled out in the sunlight to nuzzle its kitten. A…surprisingly sweet image. The Imagination—Roman’s Imagination must be affecting him.

There are worse fates.

“But I can’t imagine,” he says after a moment, “that a prince such as yourself can allow such a slight?”

The grin on Roman’s face is priceless.

“Virgil,” Roman sings as they fling open the door to the rest of the Mindscape, and goodness Logan can’t tell you how much he’s missed that voice— “I have a question for you!”

Logan hears muffled cursing coming from the living room.

“What’s up, Princey?”

“Well our dearest Specs here just told me something very interesting—“ he winks at Logan— “and I would love to hear your side of the story.”

“Oh, uh, really? Well, that’s cool. On an unrelated note, I’m gonna be in my room for the foreseeable future.”

“Hmmm…not if I get there before you!”

“Shit!”

“My darling,” Roman says softly, pressing a kiss to the back of Logan’s hand, “will you excuse me one moment, please?”

And what is Logan supposed to do but agree? Roman is back.

“I’ll be with you shortly.”

Roman tears off down the hallway after Virgil, their shouts filling the Mindscape once more.

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#sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #virgil sanders #dragonbabbles #fic #logince

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enhyupn · 3 years

Text

the perfect date! chapter one

masterlist | next

a series in which enhypen’s 02s competitive side shines through when trying to get your attention. the only solution to end this tiring rivalry? three dates with each of them in the course of three weeks.

paring: 02s x gn!reader

word count: 3k

genre: fluff, angst, high school!au, someone’s gonna end up heartbroken

warnings: swearing, violence is mentioned

ask to be on taglist, updates are irregular

a/n i literally had to dig this out of my drafts so i don’t even know myself what i’ve written PLSSS

taglist: @dchannie17 @simluvbot @jaeyuni @neocrush

falling in love at the age of twelve wasn’t what you were expecting while learning basic algebra. being heartbroken at the age of thirteen while reciting shakespeare was also not as expected. the cause of both of these unforgettable moments? park jongseong, or otherwise known as jay to almost everyone around you. your first love was something that stuck with you, even in the present. he was your seat mate in three of your classes and the person you would ask for the homework right before it’s due date. it was a one sided crush, it was quite obvious to you. he was popular, sporty and incredibly talkative, you were one out of maybe twenty people that had a huge bulging crush on him.

at age fourteen you vowed to forget about him, the previous year he had moved to america to improve his english abilities which had put you in a miserable mood for almost all of your middle school life. who else was supposed to give you the math homework? how were you supposed to feel excited to go to school when jay wasn’t going to be there? your barely-a-teen mindset made you think you were never going to get over him.

flashing forward to freshmen year of high school, new school, new class and a clean slate to basically pretend you were a completely different person. no more being dependent on other people! no more trying to do anything to get friends! no more—

“hi, my name’s jake” oh boy.

and that’s how jake sim entered your life. it was his australian accent peaking through his words as he flashed you an energetic smile that pulled you in. you could of fallen for him at that instance, well you could of fallen for him throughout your years of friendship but the returning thought of your first love entirely stopped that process. jake sim was like a breath of fresh air, he was everywhere you went and had your back for everything.

you were his best friend and you thought of him like one too, you two were practically glued to one another. of course you had side comments, gossip that the two of you were dating or one of you two had an one sided crush (the latter part of that sentence we aren’t going to get that much into) but it didn’t make you two feel awkward or anything like that. with jake you almost forgot about jay (algebra and shakespeare being the things that stimulates the memory of him). although it wasn’t like jake was a rebound, you think yourself you’ve felt happier when you were around jake. i mean jake’s definitely popular, rivalling jay’s popularity in middle school even. if you asked anyone in your school who they’ve had a crush on, jake sim is number one on that list. he had some type of air around him, always being incredibly positive, he quite literally radiated the colour yellow. maybe you had a type when it came to people you associated with.

the close second on that list was maybe the complete opposite to jake in terms of their public image to the school. park sunghoon was the class president in your class. academically gifted, popular with the female population in your school, a talented figure skater, a stereotypical cold and distant beauty, there were a lot of layers to sunghoon. you personally had never really talked to him, the only time being when he had dropped papers on the ground in the hallways, maybe a few months ago. you helped him pick them up before carrying them with him to the teacher’s staff room. even then, you two had barely shared any words during that whole incident besides a “thank you”.

still, you could say you respected sunghoon. i mean who could have the energy to do his whole schedule besides him? you definitely could not. plus the way he was one of the most popular bachelors added to his busy schedule. the most recent valentine’s day was the proof as well as it was record breaking in your terms of your classes history with the day. having jake and sunghoon meant there were a lot of people trying to confess their feelings entering your classroom. last year, jake was stopped twenty three times the whole day, beating out sunghoon’s twenty sudden confessions. this year, there a sudden decline in jake’s confessions, a whopping three people only expressing their feelings desperately to him as he politely declined. sunghoon’s number rose by about ten people, expected but still a little shocking.

it wasn’t like the two of them cared about it, the only thing they did care about though was being polite when rejecting people. you couldn’t really sympathise with jake or sunghoon whenever they had to prepare yet another rejection, the only confession you’ve received being from yoon hyunsuk that was quite awkward considering he was a family friend and you saw him almost every week after you had rejected him.

anyways, returning to present time where you were doing your regular daily routine for a weekday. it always went waking up way too early, under eating breakfast in hopes to get the bus on time, meeting jake on the bus, walking to class with him and trying to not fall asleep in the middle of math class. it started off completely normal, maybe a little too normal.

“did you hear?” jake whispered in your ear. the two of you were supposed to individually practice questions but the chattery side of jake honestly got the best of him at moments like these.

“what is it?” you reply back quietly.

“a transfer student is coming in after lunch ends, one from america” now that really got your attention. you turn to him with your eyes wide in surprise, curiosity taking over you completely as you ignore the difficult question in front of you.

“did you see them?” jake couldn’t help but feel the sudden heat rush to his face as your sparkling eyes met his. “how do you even know this?”.

“ryujin told me plus, i saw a bit of him at the principal’s office” you looked behind him, trying to get a glimpse of the mentioned girl. the concentrated look on her face as she tried to solve the maths problem was evidence to you that she hadn’t heard her name being mentioned by jake. “said something about bleached hair that was definitely going to get the teachers mad”.

“now you got me excited” your small smile only sending butterflies to his stomach. you turn your head back down to face the still blank piece of paper, deciding that it was about time you started on that question.

“y’know he kinda looked familiar” the questioning tone in jake’s voice caught your attention, turning back to him in confusion.

“what do you mean?” a pout formed on your face. more confusion took over your face when you realised jake looked away from you quite fast, his ears turning a slight shade of pink.

“i— i don’t know” he silently cursed himself for letting himself fall deeper into his one sided crush from only small moments. his sudden black mind caused him to forget what he was meant to say to you, only leaving you puzzled by his words.

jake sitting opposite to you as you ate your unsettlingly warm sandwich, was really the only thing really going on during lunch that say. although weirdly enough, park sunghoon’s glances and staring was a new addition to your lunch time. even without directly looking at him, you could feel his eyes as they dug into the back of your head.

“you know you can relax, sunghoon’s not gonna bite you” jake commented on your stiffness. you bit your lip anxiously when you realised how loud he was being, not wanting sunghoon to know he was currently the topic of conversation between the two of you.

“if you speak any louder he might hear you” you angrily whispered to his face as you rolled your eyes. the boy chuckled before placing a small ball of rice into his mouth.

“he won’t idiot” jake tells you with maybe little too much confidence. you noticed that sunghoon had looked away from you abruptly, his cheeks visibly reddening as he faced his desk. “oh”.

“why are you like this?” you expressed you concerns. jake shrugged his shoulders, not understanding where you were coming from. “i should be excited for the new student, not trying to tame you from embarrassing our class president!”, your voice lowering at the last few words.

“i think he wants to tell you something”

“i think i want you to shut up” you muttered and you took another bite from your sandwich, wincing at the warm tomato and soggy lettuce that came into contact with your mouth.

jake was about to fire back but was only stopped by your phone violently vibrating on the table. your eyes widen in embarrassment as you frantically tried to get to it. you turn your phone to look at the screen, a notification telling you someone was calling you. jake tried to take a peek at your phone, only abandoning the plan when he saw you glare at him.

“hey yeojin” a small smile forming on your lips when reciting your middle school friend’s name. im yeojin was your best friend up until high school when her parents made her go to an all girls boarding school instead of your co-ed high school. she hated it so much when it was initially brought up by them but from the looks of it now, she’s actually enjoying herself. yeojin was the only person, excluding jake, that ever knew about your crush on jay. jake found out when the two of you were looking through old middle school pictures, you pointed at jay in a class photo and that’s the story on how jake knows about jay’s existence. “what’s up?”.

“i’m not supposed to be on my phone” her voice was frantic. you knew from her many, many letters that her school was strict when it came to personal phones. she was only allowed it everyday for thirty minutes during lunch on the weekdays, three hours on the weekends. “but, i have some exciting news for you”.

“what is it?” jake could see your eyes glisten in curiosity. he chuckled to himself as he placed his chin in his palm, his full attention being placed onto you.

“guess”

“i can’t believe you’re doing this right now” you squinted in annoyance at her playfully attitude.

“i was kidding” yeojin’s contagious laugh caught up to you, making it look like you forgot about her joke on you. “but you know how you’re old instagram account got deleted because of—”

“don’t say it” you interrupted through gritted teeth. jake laughed loudly at your reaction, catching the attention of sunghoon yet again.

“anyways, and you basically lost all of our middle school classes handles?”

“yes, i remember it all a little too well” embarrassment laced through your words as you remembered the never-to-be-mentioned-again memory.

“anyways so jay...” your eyes lit up at the mention of his name, an unsettling feeling in jake’s stomach appearing due to your expression. “he’s back!”.

“he’s back?” you stood up from your seat in surprise. your class looked at you in concern before you apologised as you embarrassing lowered yourself down to your seat. “you’re not kidding me right?”.

“why would i lie?” you could feel yeojin’s eyes rolling through the phone. “oh shit, patrol’s back. gotta go, i’ll send a letter soon—”

jake watched as you ended the call staying seated with your eyes widened, unable to process what had happen. you couldn’t pinpoint any of the emotions you were feeling, were you happy? anxious? scared? you had no clue. you bite your lip, hoping the action can help your blank mind.

“so—”

“is this 3-A?” a loud voice entering the class interrupted jake, causing the boy to sigh out of frustration.

you turned your head in the direction. you felt yourself shake in more shock when you realised who the person at the entrance was, and from the way they looked back at you, he realised who you were to. you abruptly looked away, facing the window on your left with your face burning up as you held up a hand to cover your face.

jake’s puzzled expression took over his face before putting the pieces together. his heart was beating at such a fast rate that he felt breathless, he didn’t think he was at all ready to see his crush’s first love entering their own classroom.

he watched as sunghoon did his usual mannerly class president thing, standing up from his seat all professional and kind before making his way to jay with an open hand for him to shake.

“hello, you’re earlier than expected” sunghoon smiled, unsure if it was genuine or not due to the fact the boy in front of him didn’t even acknowledge his presence. he dropped his hand before letting out a quiet irritated sigh, trying to figure out what he had his eyes on.

even with sunghoon’s growing annoyed expression, jay’s eyes were still trained on you. it was like you were frozen, no muscle in your body allowed you to move as you blankly stared outside the window. the only thing moving was your eyes shutting completely as you felt footsteps coming your way, instantly knowing who it belonged to.

“y/n” a cheery voice made it’s way to jay’s words.

sunghoon raised an eyebrow at the two of you, not entirely following this whole situation. how did he know you? why did you seem so embarrassed? bashful even? and why was jake staring at jay like he just killed his family?

“j-jay hey, y-you’re back” you finally turned your head, however still unable to look at him in the eyes. jay chuckled at the way you tripped over your words, memories of the two of you from middle school playing in his head. he glanced down beside you, the empty seat almost begging him to sit there.

you almost feel yourself jump into your seat when you noticed jay was pulling back the chair beside you as he prepared himself to sit down. at this point jake’s face was visibly red, glaring at jay for reasons that cannot be exactly explained and sunghoon’s feet had even brought him all the way to your desk meaning he had a full view of this whole mess. you four had the whole classes attention, even with some whispering to each other about you.

“it’s been a while” jay smiled through his words as he sat down, his position facing you as you struggled to make eye contact. you could feel yourself sweating from the unbearable heat coming from your cheeks, your head still blank unable to think properly.

“you two know each other?” sunghoon asked curiously as he placed his hand on his hip. you don’t know why but you cursed sunghoon silently in your head for asking that question, the thought of jay telling him you were only his friend pained you.

“yeah, middle school classmates” jay finally acknowledged the boy’s presence. sunghoon nodded in reply as he scanned your expression, unable to understand how you were feeling. “i had— i can’t say it it’s too embarrassing actually” jay rubbed his neck embarrassingly before turning away in embarrassment, only for his eyes to meet jakes.

“no, carry on” jake’s few words came out as a little passive aggressive but didn’t particularly offend jay in any way. it was quite obvious to everyone but you that jake was being a little jealous, possessive maybe from the way he glared at jay and sunghoon, who frankly didn’t really do anything up until this point.

“oh okay...” jay didn’t know why he felt nervous. maybe it was cause jake couldn’t keep his glare off of him or he was about to regret his next few words. “i had the biggest crush on y/n”.

now that got your attention. with wide eyes your eyes made contact with his at last, his cheeks were tinted pink and he had a bashful smile spread across his lips. you could even see jake in the corner of your eyes closing his mouth as he tried to recover from the shock. while sunghoon, who was right behind jay, looked like he wasn’t completely over the shocking revelation.

“i—” you felt speechless. this was the first time you’ve heard anything about this, you didn’t even think you were ever going to hear those words. you once again tried to open your mouth in an attempt to reply but was just met with nothing.

“they didn’t like me back though” jay continued. you looked at him like he was crazy, your eyebrows raised with confusion taking over your face.

“but i—”

“y/n can we talk....” jake’s voice interrupting your soon to be confession as he stared at you with a serious expression. you turned to him, once again not fully processing this whole situation. “...outside the classroom?”.

you glanced back to jay who looked visibly irritated, rolling his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair. sunghoon just stood behind him, staring at jake with what looked to be some sort of fear. letting out a sigh, you stood up from your seat as you looked jake in the eyes.

“let’s go outside jake” you were slightly thankful for his sudden request due to you not wanting to be stuck in that suffocating environment. you watched as he stood up from his seat, his expression changing into quite an anxious one.

the curiosity didn’t leave you as you followed jake out of the classroom, you even heard your classmates whisper to each other as you passed them. you didn’t even want to look back to see the face of jay, you had ended your long awaited reunion short just to go talk to your best friend by the staircase. jake glanced around the area to make sure nobody was there to listen to what he had to say.

“thanks for getting me out of there—”

“i like you” those three words almost made you faint on the spot.

was it time to wake up now?

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen headcanons #enhypen timestamps #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff

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lovesanmotion · 3 years

Text

Crescent - Jung Wooyoung

💌 This is: Requested

summary: crescent (adj.) - growing, increasing or developing; in which jung wooyoung is y/n's secret admirer who doesn't have the confidence to ask her out but good thing his friends loves to play as cupid

"Wooyoung? Wooyoung? I should have known. So early in the morning and he's staring at her already." Jongho spoke as he sipped on his americano before shaking his head.

San sat beside Wooyoung, placed an arm around his shoulders and followed his gaze which landed on y/n. Nothing new.

"Why are you so thirsty?" San asks. Wooyoung was suddenly pulled away from his loving gaze to y/n and looked at San incredulously.

"How can you not fall for someone like y/n? So-" Wooyoung was cut short by San.

"Pretty, smart, kind and funny. Yeah I've heard you say that multiple times that I want to cut my ears off already." San shook his head as he watches his friend stare at y/n again.

"What are you doing over there? No need to ask Woo, it's quite obvious." Yeosang spoke with the straw to his americano drink between his lips, sitting besides Wooyoung on the other side. It was Yeosang's turn to look at y/n who's busy talking and laughing with her friends.

"You need to make a move or else someone'll beat you to it." Yeosang nudged his eight year best friend in the shoulder. "You should be more obvious like, go up to her and say 'hey I love you'." Wooyoung chuckled hearing his suggestion. He knew that Yeosang isn't someone to be into the idea of love, he'd be more shy than the girl he's into.

"Fat chance, Sang. He's bullied majority of the guys in our year saying" San sat up straight and mimicked Wooyoung that afternoon. "If you all think you could have a chance on her, I suggest you all to stop already because you all took stupid asking her out. I feel embarrassed for you all." to which San and Yeosang ended up laughing but Wooyoung only shook his head, still staring at y/n.

"Remember that freshman kid who tried to talk to y/n?" Yeosang pointed to San with great interest. San started to laugh as he recalled the memory.

"He went to campus the following day with a black eye!" San fell off his seat from laughing, clutching on his stomach.

"What about those days when our dear friend here would leave love letters?" Yeosang grins.

"Syndicate moves you've got there, Woo. Slipping love letters when she isn't looking. You'd pass as a criminal one day." San jokes.

He recalls all the times he's slipped those love letters. Not forgetting that one day, while you were reading one of his love letters, Ms Kang took them out of your hold and read it out loud in front of the class. Wooyoung felt so embarrassed, but most especially y/n too.

As the time was nearing eight in the morning, the eight guys stood up from their usual bench spot and walked inside the building, heading towards the elevator. Wooyoung's heart started to beat loudly as he saw y/n in front of the elevator. Apparently, the elevator was packed and y/n was separated from her friends, causing her to take the next lift.

Jongho, who seemed to get the situation, squeeked in. "Positive sir" to which the six boys, minus Wooyoung, to laugh. San stood beside y/n, tapped on her shoulder and waved his hand hello. Wooyoung started blushing to himself. Why is she adorable?

"Seonghwa, do you remember Mr Seo's discussion the last time about Shakespeare's sonnets? Can you recall me about those later?" Y/N suddenly spoke, looking at a shocked face Seonghwa.

"Shakespeare? I was sleeping during discussion. Wooyoung would love to help you."

Yeosang and San started giggling in the corner, Jongho poked Woo's side, Hongjoong and Seonghwa started grinning at Wooyoung from the other side, Yunho stood behind y/n and placed finger hearts above y/n's head (to which y/n didn't see) and Mingi started to sing and create a background music for the two of them. Wooyoung, who's corners of his lips never bent down, nodded his head.

As the elevator door opens, the boys let y/n enter first and one by one they entered, pushing Wooyoung to stand close beside y/n. Their outer arms already touching. Mingi still didn't stop from his singing, everyone except y/n was laughing and Yunho had to shut him up by covering his hand.

As nine of them left the elevator and entered the first room on the right side, almost all of the seats were occupied except for theirs.

"Y/N over here!"

He watched as y/n went over to sit with her friends in the middle of the room, the boys started to go over their usual seats but decided to shuffle their spots. Jongho took one seat out and placed it beside y/n who's busy talking to her friends again. The boys immediately sat on their vacant seats, leaving Wooyoung to sit beside y/n.

"How am I friends with all of you again?" Wooyoung snickers, taking his seat.

"A thank you would be nice" Hongjoong spoke before Mr Seo enters the room and the classroom falls silent. As the discussion went on, Wooyoung found it hard to concentrate with y/n sitting beside him. The discussion about sonnets seemed to drag and bore him out that he decided to take out a pen and paper (for the first time) and decided to write his own sonnet about y/n.

Under the blue clear skies The sun shining brightly And the leaves dancing on the ground I met you

Your short hair that falls on top of your shoulders Skin shining brightly under the sun That yellow dress you wore when inquiring I remember them vividly

Three years have passed since then But it never ends It keeps growing and increasing

I can never forget you You who taught me What love feels like

As the bell rang, everyone scrambled out of the room to get to their next class. Wooyoung picked up his things and folded the paper neatly and slipped it inside the outer pocket of your bag before getting up from his seat. The eight boys walked out of classes and headed into a different direction.

"What are you gonna get?" Seonghwa asks, standing beside Wooyoung who looked deep in his thoughts while staring at the baked pastries before him. He was wondering which one y/n would like. But his eyes stopped at the scones, he stood behind the counter and ordered three of those along with a bottle of iced chocolate drink and a cup of iced americano.

"Are you that hungry?" Hongjoong squeeks as he's the one who's standing on the second counter. Seonghwa bent down and whispered something to him. Hongjoong's mouth hung open, let out a silent "ahh" while nodding his head.

"If I were you, I'd ask her out. I heard someone say that they'll pluck up their courage and ask her to be theirs on the way here." Hongjoong informs the younger one. Wooyoung's eyes widens, immediately taking his purchased goods in his hands after paying them and scrambling out of the cafe.

"You completely made that up didn't you?" Seonghwa asks besides Hongjoong.

"Someone had to do it." Grinning, Hongjoong takes his baked bread and coffee and walks to their table.

"Where did Wooyoung go? He looked like he was in a hurry" San asks as Hongjoong sat in front of him.

"Well," the older one lets out a sigh of relief before taking his cup of iced coffee and taking a sip. "Let's just say he'll come to us with a girlfriend already."

Wooyoung rushed to get to the second floor, skipping to take the elevator and running up the stairs. He bursted the door open, second room on the right side. To his surprise, it was just y/n holding the piece of paper he wrote it filled with sonnets earlier.

"Wooyoung? Shouldn't you be on break?" Y/N asked him as she showed him the piece of paper proudly. "I got another letter from this mystery person. Whoever it is, this person is really sweet. I think this person is also the one who leaves the chocolate drinks and scones inside my locker."

His eyes fell on the visible clear plastic that proudly shows the snacks you've mentioned. Blushing madly, he looked up at you with the same expression.

"So it was you?" y/n asks, slowly setting the paper down.

Wooyoung slowly walked up to you, sitting on the chair besides you.

"I like you, y/n. I like you since I first saw you in our university orientation." Wooyoung chuckled as he recalled that memory three years ago. "I know its that long and I only told you my feelings just now, but I really like you, y/n." He then lifted up the shopping bag filled with your favorites. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Instead of answering, Wooyoung's eyes widens as he felt a pair of lips on his. Giggling to himself, he places a hand on your cheek and deepens the kiss.

On the other side of the door, seven boys peeked through the window of the door.

"This window is so dirty, it needs some cleaning" Yeosang spoke.

"We need Seonghwa's wipes quick" Jongho pipes in

"I heard that" drawled Seonghwa

"This is like those movies wherein they get together before graduation" San says

"Ouch Mingi you stepped on my foot" Hongjoong hissed, pouting to himself

"Sorry!" Mingi spoke a little loudly

"Quiet, those lovebirds will hear us" Yunho hushes him, placing a finger on his lips.

(gif is not mine! credits to the rightful owner!)

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whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst · 3 years

Text

Texts from the Lost Tomb, part 5.1

Good thing I didn’t do something like a story arc with this series, bc that would be…well.

Zhang Chat

Zhang Rishan: Could we speak, Patriarch? It is a family matter.

Zhang Qiling: read 12:18pm

Unnamed chat

Zhang Rishan: Good afternoon. I am writing with regard to a development pertaining to a Zhang family heirloom. Its recent activity has provided some potential insight into a long-standing mystery about our family’s longevity. I would deeply appreciate it if you could have Zhang Qiling contact me at his earliest convenience.

Wu Xie: !!!!!!!!!!!

Wu Xie: sorry, I mean yes, absolutely. Is it at the tea house? Can I come too? We won’t break things this time, I swear.

Zhang Rishan: That would be entirely dependent on whether Zhang Qiling contacts me.

Zhang Chat

Zhang Qiling: …Pangzi has several phrases he uses in addressing persistent telemarketers. I believe the more vivid wordings apply to you today.

Zhang Rishan: I apologize for the somewhat underhanded machinations, but the matter is urgent. How much do you remember about the 1800s?

Zhang Qiling: Nothing. Why?

Men in Black Chat

Zhang Qiling: Has he contacted you?

Hei Yangjing: oh shit whaddup it’s dat xiaoge

in some parts of the world, ya know—people lead into conversations with dumbass small talk and actual context for their demands

i know it’s crazy but like lord what fools these mortals be and shit amirite

How’s bae and the loudmouth

Zhang Qiling: Your descriptor for Pangzi is somewhat hypocritical, I would argue. Wu Xie is well; he had a bad cold last week but has mostly recovered.

The Shakespeare reference is noted and appreciated. Although I personally prefer The Tempest.

Has he contacted you?

Hei Yangjing: omg this is a xiaoge trivia plot twist thx

although tbqfh I figured you’d be more into Romeo and Juliet

lmao get it

…too soon?

Zhang Qiling: Has he contacted you?

Hei Yangjing: sadly, dear A-Xie and I just don’t talk daily the way we did when you were making snowmen for ten years or whatever. don’t be jealous, whats a Wu Xie to do but the other black-clad immortal in town who’s…teaching him stuff;)

The last time I heard from our mutual boo was on one of my birthdays (i tell people different days to maximize consistent presents, got the idea from something in the news)

Zhang Qiling: Your attempt at levity is not humorous in the least. Wu Xie is not interested in you and any attempts you make to express your own interest will be blocked with extreme prejudice.

I was referring to Zhang Rishan. At the start of this conversation, five years ago.

Hei Yangjing: yikes chill tf out jelly bro you know I was joking

Cool your Qilin

hehehe

Admit it tho, we would be hot

Also yikes on the Zhang Rishan front

Lead with that next time tf use ur words

No I never talk to the bitch unless he pays why

Ew what does he want now

Tell him i died, make it tragic

Bonnie and Clyde Chat

Hei Yangjing: psst hey sexy got some big news

Xie Yuchen: Change the chat name.

Hei Yangjing: uhh lemme think no anyway how would ur fine ass like to hear some spicy info for the low low price I just sent?

Xie Yuchen: …This had better be good.

Hei Yangjing: face it ur the rich and rational version of Wu Xie I knew u would be curious

So here’s the 411

Xie Yuchen: The what?

Hei Yangjing: ugh

Youth

W/e

So the sitch is, zhang bois got some special necklace from someone somewhere

That is supposed to make the wearer invulnerable or somesuch

Idek man at this point I’m just accepting it, like sure u have a magical necklace, makes sense

I wonder if the Zhangs are like lotr??

I would totes be gandalf. u can be galadriel in that one HBIC scene.

Except this weirdass family jewelry hasn’t done fuckall for years, shit was broke af

then said necklace started glowing last week like yikes it was lit kinda glowing

Hehe I guess this is its glowup

Get it

Xie Yuchen: So, a mysterious Zhang artifact has suddenly become active.

Hei Yangjing: duh that’s what i said

Xie Yuchen: Is Zhang Qiling involved?

Hei Yangjing: he didn’t wanna be but you know Wu Xie has the Zhang Qiling equivalent of beatlemania and got them involved lol

Qilinmania, i dub it

And so now they are headed to the haus of scalding hot tea

Interested?

Xie Yuchen: Try and stop me.

Hei Yangjing: bitch I’m inviting u to crash the potentially dangerous Zhang drama WITH me

It’s basically a date;)

Xie Yuchen: No, it is not. Pick me up in an hour.

Hei Yangjing: feisty, I love to see it

#whomst #dmbj #dmemebj #ultimate note #pingxie #the lost tomb

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dakotacrisis · 3 years

Text

Adrien’s Sick Day

(This dumb idea would not let me sleep. Adrien gets sick but refuses to miss school so chugs a bottle of Nyquil but starts crashing when he gets to school. Shoots back an energy drink to keep awake. Disassociates so hard he comes to with a new fencing trophy and a girlfriend.)

---

Adrien was sick. He never got sick easy but he was sicker than a dog today. His temperature was through the roof and the only medicine in the house was a bottle of Nyquil.

“Sounds like an easy day in.” Plagg said. “Chug it down and let’s get back to bed.”

Adrien shook his head. “I wanna go to school.”

“School?” Plagg rested on top of his head, “Kid, do you really want to attempt class today?”

“I have already missed normal human interaction for the first fifteen years of my life. I am not missing another day!” Adrien chugged down the Nyquil. “Let’s go!”

Despite Plagg’s protests to stay inside Adrien collected his bag and headed to school. He was doing well up until he stepped inside and the medicine really started kicking in. Right...the medicine wasn’t the non-drowsy kind.

“Hey dude,” Nino clapped him on the back to which Adrien almost fell face first into floor. “Dang, what’s wrong with you?”

“Fever. Medicine. Sleepy. Not missing class.” Adrien rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Got any coffee?”

“I have this.” Nino pulled out an energy drink from his bag. “You can have it if you really want it but I think you should just go home.”

“No, I’m fine. Hand it over.” Adrien took the drink and walked with Nino into class.

In the blink of an eye Adrien was no longer in class but back home in his room holding a half empty cup of boba. “What the...” Adrien looked around. “How did I...”

The sun was further down in the sky so it must be later. Oh god, where did he put his phone? On his desk was a new fencing trophy he didn’t remember earning. Hanging off the trophy’s miniature epee was the lucky charm Marinette had lent him.

This was strange. He checked the clock on his computer and was surprised to see that it was five in the evening. What had happened all day? He couldn’t remember a thing.

The sound of his phone ringing with a notification caught his attention. He rummaged around in his bag and pulled it out. The background on his phone had changed too. Instead of the picture of him and Nino it was him in his fencing uniform holding a trophy in one hand and his other arm wrapped around Marinette who was kissing his cheek.

Okay. What the heck happened today?

He went to his contacts and hit Nino’s number. Hopefully he could shed some light on this situation.

“Hey bro, what’s up?” Nino shouted over the roar of a crowd in the background, “You change your mind and want to come out to the party?”

“Party?” Adrien asked. “What party?”

“Well I guess it is turning more into a festival. I know Marinette said you should go home and rest but you sound a lot better. We’re currently out under the Eiffel Tower if you wanna stop by.”

“What festival? What’s going on?” Adrien couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was saying. He was fairly certain there wasn’t any parties or holidays today.

“Sorry dude, I can’t hear you.” Nino shouted over the noise, “Eiffel Tower! Come out! Have some fun!”

He hung up and Adrien was back at square one but with even more questions. Maybe there were some clues in his phone. He checked his pictures and saw that there were more pictures he had taken today. The picture he had set as his background was there. There was a group shot with the guys who held Adrien up on their shoulders. Those were taken around four.

Adrien checked his calendar and saw that he did have a fencing tournament today at three. So that’s where he must have been for that hour. And he ended up placing first while zonked out on cold medicine. Adrien wasn’t sure what to make of that. Either his opponents weren’t that great or he is just an amazing fencer when he’s blacked out. Neither sat right with him.

That’s still leaves the seven hours from school and the hour between when he won the tournament and when he got home. Wait! Plagg! Plagg was by his side the entire time! He’d know!

“Plagg!” Adrien called, “Plagg! Where are you?”

“Ugh, you said I could relax.” Plagg’s voice came from the cheese cabinet. Adrien opened it and saw Plagg nesting atop a large wheel of camembert. “Haven’t we done enough today?”

“Plagg, I don’t remember what happened today. You have to fill me in.”

“Seriously?” PLagg laughed, “You don’t remember a thing?”

“No! And it’s creeping me out!” Adrien pulled him out of the cabinet. “Please tell me what I did.”

“Well I don’t really know.”

“How do you not know? You hide in my bag all day!”

“I sleep in your bag all day. I only woke up for the akuma.”

“Akuma? When was there an akuma?”

“A bunch of akumas. We had another Scarlet Akuma pandemic going on before you ran off to go fencing. You and Ladybug were really struggling for a while there until your doppelgangers showed up. Something happened after the akumas got purified but I was tired and bored at that point and stopped paying attention.”

“No! Plagg, I need to know what happened! And what do you mean by doppelgangers?”

“Oh right, bunny girl brought future you and Ladybug back in time to help with the akumas.”

“My future self! Future Ladybug?!” Adrien was going to throw himself off a building. He had completely missed meeting his future self and seeing what Ladybug looked like grown up. She could have only gotten more beautiful.

“Yeah, it was trippy.” Plagg said. “That’s all I remember though. After you transformed back you had to go to fencing and I stayed in your locker resting.”

“So you don’t know anything else? Not even about this?” Adrien showed him the picture of Marinette kissing him.

“Awe, finally got that girlfriend of yours I see. But no. No idea.”

“You’re awfully helpful.” Adrien sighed. He needed answers. He wasn’t gonna be able to focus until he filled in the blanks from today. He got online and started combing through the footage from the akuma attack. Plagg wasn’t kidding. This was the most akumas Adrien had ever seen. It looked as if half of Paris had been infected.

Him, Ladybug, and some of the other heroes were fighting against them but losing ground fast. A shining portal opened up and...holy crap. It really was his future self walking alongside a grown up Ladybug. Bunnix also joined them. The footage sped by as the heroes, future and present fought side by side. Adrien had always thought that he and Ladybug were a well oiled machine but seeing their future counterparts fight made them look like fish flopping on a deck. It was as if they were thinking about each other’s moves five steps ahead.

There was an eruption of white butterflies as the akumas were purified. The people cheered. Future Chat grabbed Future Ladybug and spun her in the air in victory. And then...oh…present Ladybug grabbed present Chat and kissed him. Seriously?! Another kiss he couldn’t remember!

“PLAGG!” Adrien shouted, “YOU SAID NOTHING ELSE HAPPENED!”

“Nothing did!” Plagg shouted back.

“LADYBUG KISSED ME! THAT’S NOT NOTHING TO ME!”

“How is this any different then the other times she kissed you and you forgot?”

“Y’know what--!”

“Can’t hear you. Napping.” Plagg started snoring loudly.

Adrien sighed. He turned his attention back to the screen.

There was only more cheering as the two kissed. Wait. So he kissed Ladybug and Ladybug kissed him back and they both remember so why had Marinette been kissing him in his fencing picture? Once again, more questions.

The future miraculous holders went back through the portal. His present self and Ladybug waved to the crowd then vaulted out of frame. According to the akuma report online that was from 12:40 to 2:55. Another two hours accounted for. Yet it was the minutes in between that seemed to hold all the answers.

Adrien grabbed his school bag and dumped it out looking for more answers. There had to be something else. All of it looked pretty normal. Books, homework assignments, a couple empty containers of camembert, and a few loose papers. He picked up one and saw it was an excerpt of a script. A Midsummer Night’s Dream? What was this doing in his bag? They were supposed to start their Shakespeare period in literature class so it wasn’t so out of place.

The assignment was to recreate a scene from one of Shakespeare’s plays. At the top of the page was Adrien’s name as well as Marinette’s. He guessed they must have gotten partnered up. Maybe he should try calling her to figure out what was going on.

He picked up his phone and searched for Marinette’s contact, her name in his phone had been changed to Girlfriend with a bunch of sparkly hearts around it. So apparently she was his girlfriend now, according to his phone at least. He called her but the call went to voicemail. Okay, maybe Alya knows. He called her next and was relieved when she answered.

“Hey lover boy!” Alya was shouting over the same crowd as Nino had been, “Nino said you called. Feeling better already?”

“Alya, you have to tell me what I did today.”

“What?”

“What did I do while I was at school? I can’t remember.”

“How do you not remember?”

“I was zonked out on cold medicine! I don’t even know how I got home let alone how I won a fencing trophy and got a girlfriend in the past few hours.”

“Wow. Just...wow. I knew you were kinda loopy today but I figured you’d remember confessing to Marinette. Girl was over the moon.”

The memories tickled right in the back of Adrien’s brain but he just couldn’t get to them. They had been washed away in a tidal wave of medicine and energy drink. He needed answers. He needed to talk to Marinette. “Are you all still by the Eiffel Tower?” Adrien asked.

“Yeah, you coming out?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there in a few.” Adrien hung up and grabbed his coat. He felt much better physically than he had that morning which was nice. The walk to the Eiffel Tower gave him plenty of time to think about what it was he was missing. There was a significant piece of the puzzle missing, the one piece that would make the rest of the day make sense. If only he could figure out what it was!

He found his friends and everyone cheered when they saw him and pulled him into their circle. Standing with Alya was Marinette. Face alight with a smile and laughing. She turned when she felt Adrien’s eyes on her and her smile grew.

“Hey, I thought I told you to go home and rest. Or was it that you didn’t want to miss out on all the fun?” She grabbed his hands, “I suppose I’ll let it go this time seeing as how today was very taxing and we could do with some fun after that Scarlet Moth fiasco.”

“Yeah, about that,” Adrien said, “Can we talk somewhere a little quieter?”

“Sure,” She pulled on his hands as she led him away from the group. Their classmates whistled and teased as the couple left. When they were far enough away from the noise and people Marinette spoke to him, “What is it you want to talk about?”

“Right um…” Adrien felt heat climbing up his neck, “So I was kinda really sick this morning and I took a bunch of drowsy cold-medicine that I tried to counteract with an energy drink and now I don’t remember anything that happened today. Nothing whatsoever.”

Marinette stared at him, her wide, unblinking baby blue eyes piercing through his skull. “Are you joking?”

“No. I swear I am not. I’ve put together some of what happened but there are some things that I don’t understand like how um, you know, how you and I…” He looked down at his feet, mortified that he had to have this conversation with her. He felt like he was breaking her heart or something.

“You dumb kitty.” Marinette bonked the top of his head, “That explains a lot actually. I’ve always known you to be kinda spacey but today was something else. How is it that when you’re out of it you can still function as a human being?”

“Marinette?” Adrien looked up at her, “What did you call me?”

Marinette sighed and motioned for him to sit down on the bench. “Alright, so this morning when class started…”

*Earlier that day*

“Did that help at all?” Nino asked Adrien as they sat down for class.

“I guess we’ll see,” Adrien almost missed his seat when he went to sit down, “So far it is a rousing success!”

“I really think you should just go home, dude.” Nino shook his head. “I think the caffeine just made this worse.”

“Nah!” Adrien corrected himself and slid himself into his seat, “I am fine! Look how fine I am! I am super fine!”

“Sure are.” Nino snickered, he couldn’t help it. His best friend was essentially high as a kite right now.

Everyone took their seats as Ms. Bustier began the lesson. “For this unit we will be focusing on William Shakespeare. I figured we’d start off with something fun so I want everyone to get into pairs or small groups and perform a scene from any Shakespeare play you would like. Group up and figure out what you’re performing in class today. Go over your lines and we’ll do the actual performances tomorrow. Try not to do really long ones. Have fun!”

Immediately everyone around the room started pairing off. “Hey Adrien,” Alya grabbed his attention, “How’s about you and Marinette team up? You would make a wonderful Romeo and Juliet.”

“But I wanted us to do Romeo and Juliet, babe.” Nino pouted.

“That’s fine, Alya. You two can have Romeo and Juliet.” Marinette told her, her face tinted a cute pink. “Adrien and I can do something else.”

“Hernia!” Adrien shouted, “You can be Hernia and I’ll be Lightsaber!”

“What?” The other three teenagers stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, that play, the one with the donkey head?” Adrien mimicked large donkey ears on his head.

“Oh! I got it!” Marinette said, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You want us to be Hermia and Lysander.”

“Yeah! Those two!” Adrien nodded, “Hernia and Lightsaber.”

“Adrien, sweetie,” Alya looked at him with an amused smile, “Their names are Hermia and Lysander. Not Hernia and Lightsaber.”

“Got it. Got it.” Adrien continued nodding so hard he looked like a bobblehead. “We can be them.”

“Alright, I’ll find us a scene to do.” Marinette started looking for a good scene. They eventually agreed to do the opening scene when Hermia and Lysander plan to runaway together. Marinette was being super giggly through the reading which made Adrien start laughing which made her giggle more until they were in a perpetual loop of laughter.

When class ended everyone got up to move onto the next class. Nino and Alya went on ahead leaving Marinette and Adrien alone still chuckling over their inability to be serious during their scene.

“It may be the fact that I was laughing through the whole thing but I have to confess that I have no idea what Lysander was saying.” Adrien squinted at the text before shoving it in his bag. “Did you?”

“It’s pretty simple actually,” Marinette said, “The couple are lamenting that none of Hermia’s choices that she was given from Theseus let her be with Lysander. Lysander though figures that they don’t have to follow their rules and talks Hermia into leaving Athens with him and getting married where the Athenian laws don’t apply.”

“I wish I could do that.” Adrien sighed.

“Do what?”

“Runaway with the love of my life. I have this whole plan with an island and a hamster but I know you’d never go with me.” He slumped, looking utterly defeated. “Why don’t you wanna go with me?”

“Love--love--love--love of your what? Runaway? Me and you? To an island? With hamsters!” Marinette was stammering as she tried to piece together what it was Adrien had just confessed to her. Was this really happening?

“Oh wait,” Adrien frowned, “I meant my lady.”

“Huh?”

“Ladybug is so pretty…” Adrien murmured dreamily, “She’s so awesome but she only sees me as a tomcat which--just--boo! I love her! Why doesn’t she see that? My spotty lady! Buggy boo! I love her spots and her eyes and her pigtails…”

His green eyes turned to Marinette and batted a hand against Marinette’s hair. “Just like your pigtails.” He muttered, “You remind me a lot of Ladybug. You can be my Maribug!”

Tomcat? In love with Ladybug? No...there was no way. Surely someone like Adrien couldn’t also be her dorky partner in crime fighting.

“Hey Adrien,” Marinette smiled nervously, “Why do you think that Ladybug thinks you’re a tomcat?”

“Because I am a cat!” He stated proudly. Then his expression soured. “Or as Ladybug says, I’m a bad kitty that needs to stop flirting with her cause they’re working and she likes someone else. It’s sad that she likes someone else. I wish she could like me…”

Yep. Definitely Chat Noir. Although Marinette had never called him a bad kitty before. Chastised him for flirting an inappropriate moments? Yes. But she never berated him. She’d have to have a talk to him later as Ladybug.

WAIT! Chat Noir is Adrien! Adrien is Chat Noir! The love of her life is also her partner! Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy! Crap! Calm down, Marinette! More important things to focus on right now!

She looked over at Adrien who was still pouting like a sad little kitten. She put an arm around his shoulders. “Well I got some good news for you, kitty. I know who Ladybug is really in love with.”

“Really?!” Adrien looked at her with stars in her eyes, “Who? I’m gonna whoop their butt if they mistreat her!”

“Ladybug has a crush on Adrien Agreste.”

“Boo! He sucks!”

“Dummy, Adrien is you. Ladybug likes you.”

“Oh...SHE DOES?!” He nearly screamed and Marinette clamped a hand over his mouth. He moved his head away from her, gaping at the information. “How do you know that?”

“Because that’s who I have a crush on.” Marinette’s cheeks felt entirely too warm. When she looked at Adrien there was absolutely nothing going on behind those big green eyes of his.

“Adrien?” She waved a hand in front of his face? “Goodness, you silly kitty, you are really out of it, huh? Give it a moment. It’ll come to you.”

Marinette started counting in her head. She got to one hundred and seventeen before Adrien finally perked up like a meerkat. “Ladybug?!” He pointed at her.

“There it is.” She ruffled his hair, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

“I--I--”

BANG!

*Present*

“Then that’s when Scarlet Moth and all the other akumas hit and we went to got fight them. Our future selves showed up to help kick some butt. We kissed. Then we went back to school so you could get to your fencing tournament. You won. You looked pretty tired so I walked you home after but you insisted we stop for boba first so we kinda went on an impromptu boba date. Got you home then I came out to celebrate with everyone about today’s akuma win.” Marinette finished, “Did that fill you in well enough?”

“So you are…”

“Yep.”

“And you like me?”

“Also yep.”

“And I somehow managed to do all this while disassociating to the point of amnesia?”

“Apparently so.”

“I am never mixing Nyquil and Red Bull again.”

“Turned out okay in the end though, right?” Marinette flashed him a bright smile.

As all the information settled within him Adrien smiled back and kissed her. She squeaked for a second not expecting it but eagerly kissed him back. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She giggled. She stood up and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, kitty, let’s go have some fun.”

*The next day*

“Hey bugaboo,” Adrien entered her room holding a hot cup of tea, “Sorry for getting you sick. Probably wasn’t a good idea to have kissed you so many times while I had a cold.”

Marinette blew her nose. “Worth it.”

#baby boy just wants to go to school #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrinette #writing

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