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vote-gaara · 9 months

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Positive Results - Gaara x (Fem) Reader

(NSFW under break)

Read on A03

Summary: You're at the stage in your life where you desperately want kids…Actually, you've always dreamed of having a family, and now that you've been in a relationship with Gaara for a few years now, you're thinking of broaching the subject with him.

There's just one problem, though: You have absolutely no clue what his opinions are on the matter!

Could it be that due to his past he might refuse to start a family, spelling the end of your relationship with him? Or are you just getting ahead of yourself and panicking over nothing?

You suppose there's only one way to find out: You need to build up your courage and simply just ask him…

Warnings: lots of fluff, impregnation, pregnancy, wanting to get pregnant, talk of kids, sex, creampie

Authors Notes: I don't know what happened with this fic, but it just got on the wrong bus all of a sudden and ended up in fluff town. Don't worry, though, there's still lots of steam.

This fic is read best by someone who wants children or can imagine themselves having children/getting pregnant. If that's not you, you could probably still enjoy it for what it's worth, but it might not be your thing.

Anyways, enjoy.

Positive Results

Everything you desperately yearned for was dependent on the answer you would receive in the next three minutes.

You were standing alone in your bathroom with an anxiety so great it nearly made you nauseous. To steady yourself you held your breath, but when you began hearing the blood flowing through your ears along with the hard drumming of your heart, you changed tactics and opted to take slow, deep breaths instead.

In front of you was a white, plastic pregnancy test you had purchased only half an hour ago. You had promised yourself that you would wait until Gaara got home so that you both could endure the torture of the wait together, but you couldn’t help yourself. You simply had to know.

Now you occupied yourself the best you could, covering the test with the instruction booklet so that you didn’t have to look at it; then, quite abruptly, you changed your mind and ripped off the paper pamphlet to stare eagerly down at the result window. This compulsive action repeated so many times that you were certain you could have set your own world record for most amount of paper moved in 3 minutes.

It was torment. Utter torment.

You began reasoning with yourself the best you could, “If it’s negative now, it’s really no big deal. We can always try again next month.”

This thought comforted you and eased the tension from your shoulders as you reminisced over the last few months leading up to this very important moment.

***

The question on whether or not Gaara wanted to have children was something that burdened you with a doubt so strong that it paved its way to dread.

You had always wanted to have children, but now you desperately wanted to have children with Gaara, and the prospect that he didn’t feel the same anguished you greatly.

“In the way he was raised, of course he wouldn’t want to have children!” You reasoned, advocating against yourself. “And of course even if we did have children, they would be expected to be shinobi and he wouldn’t want that! Ever!”

For each logical explanation you offered as to why Gaara wouldn’t want children, you sank further and further into despair. You loved him with all your heart, but having children was something really important to you.

“Could I really carry on being in a relationship with him if he never wanted kids?”

While you were busy tying yourself all up in knots over his stance on the subject, the fact had slipped your mind that you had never actually asked him how he felt about it. In truth, you had absolutely no clue where he stood on the matter, and it was a very real possibility that you were dreading an outcome that didn’t even exist!

Gaara was, to many people, a mystery. With his difficult to read expressions, his calm demeanor and to-the-point attitude, he was a perplexing mix of being extremely difficult to gauge and yet simultaneously extremely open with his expectations and ideas. Though throughout your relationship you could pick up and recognize even the most subtle changes in his expression, voice and demeanor with near 100% accuracy, there were still certain things you still needed to ask him about; after all, your ability to notice his tells him didn’t make you a mind reader.

Gaara, though reserved with his emotions, was upfront and honest about his intentions. When he wanted something, he would work hard to obtain it. When he was curious, he would ask questions. If he was upset about something….Well, eventually you could pry that out of him, too.

Yet when it came to having children, the jury was so far out that they may have well conspired together to skip trial to never be seen or heard from again. He never mentioned his thoughts about the subject, and he never asked you your opinions on the matter, either.

“Did he not think about having kids at all?!” You thought to yourself from where you were sitting next to him on the couch, some months ago. Admittedly you were squinting hard at him, as if straining your eyes could help you peer inside his mind and find the filing cabinet in his brain labeled “whether or not to have children”.

He turned to look at you.

“Y/N…” He said, his voice was level but the way he trailed off made you realize that there was something important he wanted to say. This made you flustered and you deflated backwards, giving him space.

Could it be that he was the one who had peered into your mind?

“Yeah?” You asked, glancing away quickly trying to play off how intently you had been staring at him just seconds before.

“I wanted to know…” He began and then stopped as he collected his thoughts; a troubled expression overtook his face.

“What is it?” You leaned forward again, but this time out of worry.

“It’s just…well…” Gaara began again and faltered again. He steadied himself, placing his warm hand on top of yours and he gazed into your eyes; eyes that were so soft and full of love, and yet you could see that pain resided in them, too. “I wanted to know if you were upset at me for something.”

The question caught you so off-guard that you let out a small gasp.

“What? Of course not, why would you think that?” You asked frantically, pulling your hand out from under his so that you could place it affectionately on his cheek.

“You have been acting differently lately,” Gaara explained, eyes still darkened, as if he didn’t believe you when you assured him that nothing was wrong.

You pulled your hand away from his face, but nestled closer to him. “There’s nothing I would be upset at you for,” You said but still Gaara didn’t budge, forcing you to probe deeper. “What have I done to make you think I’m upset with you?”

“You just seem to be acting differently lately,” Gaara asserted again, but this time he opened up with an explanation. “I have noticed it for a while now…that there was something on your mind, but I could never place what it was…” Gaara drifted off and now you could really see the hurt pooling into his seafoam green eyes. “I wondered if maybe you had changed your mind about us.”

“That’s not true at all!” You exclaimed, pushing yourself towards him so forcefully that you were nearly sitting in his lap. Your arms wrapped around him tightly and your face found its way to the crook of his neck; when you felt his arms wrap around you, you began splashing his neck with little kisses.

“I love you very much,” you said, pulling away just enough to meet his gaze.

“I love you, Y/N.” Gaara said as he snaked a hand behind both your knees, pulling you close so that he could cradle you in his strong arms.

You didn’t complain, and rested your head on his shoulder, one hand reaching out to affectionately caress his cheek. The two of you sat, nourished by each other’s company until Gaara spoke again.

“Then…What is it?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” You were puzzled. The alarm you had felt mere seconds before had completely wiped your mind clear of any previous thought.

“What has been bothering you?”

You moved away from him slightly to stare into his eyes, thinking back to all the interactions you had had with him lately; of course, nothing came to mind. You hadn’t been fighting or arguing, you both had been making ample time for each other; your sex life was active and intimate…

Suddenly it became clear to you and you let out a small giggle. You had to hand it to Gaara, he had always been a shrewd one.

“Nothing about you has been bothering me…but there is something…” You trailed off, seeing your opportunity to finally ask him the question that’s been itching in your brain for months now. “I wanted to ask you, but I guess I’m afraid of the answer.”

“What is it?” Gaara asked patiently.

“Well…it’s not so easy to just come out and ask.” You admitted as you deflated, leaning back away from him. “The trouble is that if you give me the wrong answer, then…Well, then you would have been correct to assume that we couldn’t be together.”

Your heart was beating hard against your ribcage as fear pooled into your navel; yet at the same time, you felt a deep comfort come over you, as if there was a spirit wrapping you in a warm blanket and telling you everything was going to be okay.

“Why?!” Gaara asked, his voice hoarse with pain.

“It’s just…Well…” You thought to explain the complexity of it all, but then you simply just blurted out, “Gaara, do you want to have kids?”

Gaara’s eyes widened in shock and his mouth fell open slightly before he caught himself. He gazed into your eyes, searching into the depth of your soul. It made you flustered - the expression on his face which you could not place - but you held firm.

“I’m relieved…”Was all Gaara said after what felt like years of intensity, but the simplicity of it made you bristle slightly.

“What do you mean?” Your voice came out more cross than you had meant.

“I’m relieved that this has been what has been bothering you,” Gaara said, again quite simply. He let a small, relieved smile come across his face. “I had been worried this whole time that there was something else…Something that meant you didn’t want to be with me anymore.” His smile fell and he lifted a hand to gaze solemnly into his palm. After a heartbeat he said, “I’m glad that’s not the case.”

The tightness in your muscles relaxed and you reached for Gaara’s hand, holding it delicately. You could feel his soft, warm skin in yours and you squeezed. “No, that was never the case,” You reassured him before pausing awkwardly. “But…Gaara…What do you think? I mean about having kids?”

Gaara blinked and looked over at you, his calm demeanor never wavering. “I had never thought of having children on my own, but not that I was against it. I felt perhaps that I would never have the fortune of having a partner, but now that I have you….Well, I think I’d really like to have them.”

Your body moved faster than your mind and suddenly you dove towards Gaara, kissing him clumsily and hard on the lips. Your reaction had surprised him and moved away slightly before he oriented himself and began kissing you back.

Reaching his hands to cradle your face, he pulled away slightly, but you were adamant. “Gaara, I want you to fuck me.”

A deep crimson blush came over his face which you found so adorable, you dove in for another passionate kiss.

“I…” Gaara sputtered, his mind still reeling, abruptly and clunkily switching tracks.

“I want you to fuck me right here on the couch.” You asserted, adjusting yourself so that you were sitting upright. “I want you to fuck me for all you’re worth, I want you to bend me up in knots, I want -”

“Y/N!” Gaara cut in gruffly, the sound of his deep, authoritative voice sending a shiver of excitement through you as if a cold breeze had suddenly passed through the room. Gaara took you by the wrist, his grasp firm which drove you even crazier. He had composed himself now and was staring at you deeply. “I don’t know if I have ever seen you so worked up…” He said, but there was a slight sliver of playfulness in his tone.

“Please Gaara -” You began to beg, but he cut you off with a kiss; the kind that firmly put an end to your inhibitions - not that you had any in that very moment, anyways. You let him push you backwards onto the couch and you spread your legs wide for him so that the two of you could fit together perfectly. He kissed you over and over until it made you dizzy, the hot wetness pooling between your legs.

“Ugn…I just want you to fuck me so bad…” You whispered into his ear.

“I will.”

Gaara’s voice was assured and you turned your head, allowing him access to the sensitive skin on your neck. He began kissing you over and over, all while you squirmed with pleasure and bliss from beneath him. You could feel the bulge in his pants as you pushed your hips forward, desperately grinding against him in the hopes that he would take you right then and there.

Though Gaara was far more reserved than you in that moment, pulling away so that he could help you remove your shirt. You didn’t need any help with your bra, however, for as soon as he had your shirt free from you, you had swifty undone the clasps and thrown the pesky article across the room at lightning speed.

Gaara’s eyes widened in surprise but he was smiling now, too; the type of rare smile you didn’t get to see often, but that always made you fall in love with him all over again when you saw it. It was just a shame you couldn’t savor it for longer as your tongue had found its way into his mouth as he once again leaned overtop of you, matching your energy this time as both of your tongues met in intimacy and pleasure.

You felt his wandering hands; how his caress traveled upwards towards your left breast. You felt him squeeze and as he did so, you moaned into his mouth which encouraged him further. Soon your tender nipple was between his fingers, and he began pinching it lightly, gradually applying more pressure until you let out another gasp. Now he couldn’t compose himself, he broke away from kissing you, turning his attention fully towards your breasts. He dove forward, sucking on your nipples so relentlessly that you knew he would be leaving his mark on you. All you could do was surrender to the sensation as butterflies fluttered and danced in your stomach, and more heat built up between your legs.

“Gaara…” You moaned as you tangled your elegant fingers through his thick, red hair. You relished how he moaned back. You loved feeling him moving his hips forward, pressing firmly against your womanhood.

“If only he would take off his clothes!” You thought impatiently, pushing him away so that you could work at the buttons on his shirt. You didn’t have time for games, you wanted him to enter you so desperately that it almost hurt. You wanted to feel him pulse inside you as he orgasmed, releasing the seed that would give you your baby.

His shirt was off now and you got straight to unbuckling his pants, all while he let you set the pace. He could appreciate the mission you were on so he didn’t interfere by slowing things down, and you could tell by how hard his erection was once you had freed it from the confines of his pants that he didn’t want to wait much longer, either.

Now you were working on his underwear, tugging at the elastic band to free his stiffened member. It looked so swollen that it appeared to you almost uncomfortable, as it twitched impatiently, a bead of precum budding on the tip.

You wrapped a hand around his thick member, but Gaara grabbed you by the wrist again, pinning you back onto the cushions of the couch. When he was confident you would stay there, it was his turn to reveal his prize. He wasted no time, hooking his fingers into your waistband, he rid you of your pants and underwear both, and you opened your legs wide, revealing yourself fully to him.

“You are so beautiful,” He whispered, admiring your naked body with his gentle gaze. His hand was on your shin, slowly working its way upwards until you couldn’t take it any longer. You grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close to you, your tongues dancing together once more.

“Fuck me,” You said simply, and Gaara obliged.

With one hand, he guided his cock towards your entrance; your heart filling with giddiness as you heard him moan softly at the slick, warm, wetness of your flesh.

Pushing forward, you connected with him, throwing your head back in bliss as the tip of his penis entered you slowly. Gaara leaned forward, his elbows resting on both sides of your head as he let out a pleasured gasp, pushing harder and harder until his full length was inside you.

“Damnit,” He grunted, pressing himself so hard against your entrance that you could feel his balls against your flesh.

It drove you wild.

You began rocking your hips forwards, your fingers tangling through his hair until they traveled downwards towards his back. You dug your nails into his flesh like an animal, but Gaara didn’t seem to mind. He was giving it to you in hard, passionate strokes until he was making noises you had never heard him make before.

“Oh god!” You cried out as he abruptly hooked his hands around your knees, pushing your legs towards your chest. Now you could feel the tip of his cock rubbing relentlessly against your g-spot, and the sensation made you moan and pant. Better yet, you could feel from this position how deep Gaara could reach inside you, and you begged for him to cum in you.

“Please cum in me, Gaara!” You cried, your own dirty-talk pushing you closer to ecstasy.

“Tell me…” Gaara panted without breaking stride. “Tell me what you want.”

Now your womanhood was pulsing, drawing nearer and nearer to orgasm. You tried grinding against him, desiring him to go faster and harder, but from your vantage point you couldn’t. However, Gaara was observant and he drove his cock into you with such strength and speed you could barely think straight.

“Tell me what you want!” He repeated, demanding this time.

“I want you…” You moaned loudly, “To put a baby in me!”

Gaara fucked you harder and harder, you could tell how close he was, and you would meet him there. You concentrated deeply on the blooming pleasure that was stirring deep inside you, so near that you wanted to chase it. Then something truly sent you over the edge.

“I will put a baby in you.” Gaara growled in your ear, and that was it for you.

Your orgasm was strong. Your legs shook so hard you thought they might permanently turn into jello, and the pleasure was so great that you couldn’t even moan or breathe, you simply just had to endure wave after wave of bliss as your womanhood tightened and spasmed around Gaara’s thick, hot cock.

Gaara himself was close behind you. You felt him pushing deeper and deeper into you; so deep that it nearly made you wince as the head of his cock pressed up against your cervix. Then you felt as his cock began pulsating, joining you in orgasm, as ropes upon ropes of his cum filled you up, pooling against the entrance to your womb. You swore that sensation alone extended your orgasm for so long you could barely take it.

Gaara collapsed on top of you, panting hard. You could feel his penis softening inside you, but he was in no rush to withdrawal from you. With your legs still pinned upwards, the two of you caught your breath before kissing affectionately.

“I suppose we’ll have to do this more often,” Gaara said, his lewdness taking you by surprise - if you could even call that statement lewd.

“As many times as we can both handle,” You replied with a big smile. You took him by the face and kissed him again, taking your time to pull away. However, it seemed that this stirred something inside Gaara, as you could feel his cock waking up, stiffening once more inside of you.

“Again?” You asked, your grin still big and bright.

Gaara let out a sheepish scoff but his answer came as he pushed into you more deeply again. His lips met yours, but in a less hurried manor this time. This time, it was slower, more attentive.

This time it was lovemaking.

***

The three minutes were up and you snatched the pregnancy test from the counter, casting a quick glance at the result window to receive your highly anticipated answer.

Positive.

Just then, you heard Gaara coming down the hallway, and you flung open the door and dove into his arms. He caught you, receiving your celebratory kisses without much question.

“I’m pregnant!” You announced with joyful tears in your eyes.

Gaara’s eyes widened and a big, genuine smile warmed his face; his eyes softened as he held you in your arms. “Y/N…” He said breathlessly, “I’m so happy. Congratulations.”

You kissed him again, your embrace long and intimate as the two of you relished the exciting news together.

“Your baby is inside me,” You said softly in his ear as he held you close. You weren’t sure what to expect from this comment, but the sudden poke you felt from his groin was a pleasant surprise.

“Does that excite you?” You asked, teasing him slightly.

Gaara turned his head away slightly out of embarrassment. “Yes…it does…”

Now you felt it too, and your hand strayed downwards, cupping his bulge. He tensed up at this, but gazed yearningly into your eyes.

“What do you say we go for celebratory dinner?” You asked with a spark in your eye. “But before we do that…What do you say we have some celebratory sex?”

With that Gaara scooped you up into his strong, unwavering arms and carried you to the bedroom. Little did you both know that by the time that you were finished with each other, all the restaurants would have been closed for the night.

This was okay, though. The celebration could always wait until tomorrow.

#gaara #kazekage #sand siblings #naruto #sabaku no gaara #gaara of the sand #gaara x oc #gaara x reader #gaara headcanons #naruto shipuden

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raplinesmoon · 2 years

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Turn Back Time (KSJ x F!Reader)

pairing: baseball player!Seokjin x doctor!reader (based on the movie 13 Going On 30) genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst, smut, time travel au, 18+ summary: After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?

warnings: bodyswap au (kind of), alternating pov, teenage insecurities, bullying, Seokjin is confused, mention of sports injury, thirst, mentions of hangover, sassy thirteen year olds, mentioned infidelity (not between main characters), cheating (like in sports), swearing, angsty confessions, smut warnings: nudity, Seokjin pops a semi at the wrong time, soft!dom Jin, making out, heavy petting, dry humping, nipple play, unprotected s*x (wrap it before you tap it)

word count: 13.3k a/n: a very happy early 30th bday to our WWH! This is my submission for the Catch of The Century collab hosted by myself, @joheunsaram, and @kithtaehyung! I was super excited writing the role reversal with Seokjin, and 13 Going On 30 is only one of my favorite movies ever (seriously, it never misses on every single rewatch). I also just miss Jin so much T_T I hope you all enjoy 💜 also ty to Mars for beta-reading this as well!

listen to the playlist here!

The envelope crinkles as it’s handed to Seokjin, and his heart drops before he can even pause his iPod and yank his earbuds out, the Black Eyed Peas providing the soundtrack to his humiliation.

Sighing, he looks at his face twisted mid-expression, half-smile and half-grimace, the metal of his braces glinting against the camera flash, and wonders why the photographer had even bothered counting down if he wasn’t going to wait for him to smile for the photo anyway. Not to mention the packet had been inappropriately labeled “Suckjin”. His eomma would be so disappointed. Looking around, he pushes his glasses up onto his nose before shoving the damn thing into his backpack, where it hopefully wouldn’t see the light of day for a few more hours.

“Kim!”

Seokjin bites back a groan at the voice bellowing in the hallway, turning to see Jackson Wang and his posse of baseball boys strolling up to him. He and Jackson weren’t friends, at least not in the traditional sense of the word, but it wasn’t like they hated each other either. They had a mutual agreement - Seokjin would offer to do Jackson’s algebra homework for the semester, and Jackson promised him a try-out spot for the school’s baseball team.

To Seokjin, it was worth it. The baseball team was at the height of status in their janky middle school - everyone knew the players on the team were the coolest, sporting the finest threads walking through the hallways, and tipping their caps to make the girls scream. But it was more than that - for as long as he could remember, Seokjin had always been the lame kid. The one that faded into the background, hiding his acne-laden face under his mop of dark hair, constantly fiddling with his glasses. He hated that.

For once, he wanted to be the special one. The one who hit the winning home run at the game, the one who made all his fellow students and teachers scream with joy, who brought the school to victory. Then no one would ever forget him again. And now, with a try-out spot on the horizon, he finally got his chance.

“Did you hear about that new chick that moved here?” Jackson’s laugh interrupts Seokjin’s stream of intrusive thoughts, and he shoves his iPod into his book. “She’s supposed to be hot stuff.”

“Dude, you should totally hit her up,” DK, one of Jackson’s cronies, eggs him on with a guffaw. Jackson waves him away with an annoyed look, telling them he needs to talk to Seokjin for a second.

His tall, muscular figure looms over Seokjin’s scrawny one, the hard surface of the locker meeting his back.

“Sooo, I know try-outs were supposed to be tonight,” Jackson drawls, looking Seokjin over. “Big day, right?”

He’s unable to respond with anything but a gulp, knowing something was up. It always was with Jackson.

“Well, stupid Mr. Kang decided that we’d have a take-home assignment, and it’s due at the end of the week. I hate to cancel tryouts, I know how much you were looking forward to them, but we’ve gotta bust our asses for this, you know how it is.”

“I-, I could do the assignment for you,” Seokjin blurts out, finally summoning the bravery to speak. This was his once chance. He couldn’t screw it up now.

“Excellent,” Jackson’s eyes glint with mischief, his head turning to regard Seokjin with interest. He claps him on the back, the force of his palm causing Seokjin to sputter, before walking away with a wink.

“See ya later, Kim!”

The bell rings, and Seokjin immediately makes a beeline for the bathroom, changing out of the argyle patterned vest that his mother had put him in for picture day, and into his well-loved, too-large pair of Nike gym shorts that he’d found for $3 at Goodwill. Looking in the dusty mirror, he checks himself out, making sure he looked the exact part of a baseball player. His unruly hair sticks up everywhere. Sighing in frustration, Seokjin lets the water under the sink run, wetting his hands and combing it back until it lays off his face.

Great, now he looked like he hadn’t taken a shower in a week.

“Baseball try-outs?” a voice next to him squeaks, and he turns to see another kid right next to him, shorter by an inch or two, his heart-shaped smile looking up at him.

“You too?” he asks the kid, who erupts into giggles, his laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Nahhhh, it’s the dance team for me, I’m Hobi by the way,” he reaches out his hand for Seokjin to shake. Seokjin takes the hand with hesitation. Hobi seemed nice, if not a little weird. He reminded Seokjin of himself.

“Dance team? Isn’t that kind of lame though?”

“What do you mean?” Hobi asks him with curious eyes. “It’s not any more lame than following around Jackson Wang and his posse of meatheads. It’s more original.”

Hobi straightens up when he sees the clock, the time hitting both of them.

“Oop! I gotta go, I’ll see you later dude! Good luck with try-outs!” he waves Seokjin goodbye, rushing out the door.

Hobi’s words about being original weigh heavily on Seokjin, and he wonders if doing all this would be worth it in the end. After a few minutes of contemplation, Seokjin decides it is. He doesn’t want to be original, he thinks, he just wants to be cool.

“Seokjinnie! Show Eomma the pictures,” his mom pinches his cheeks, one hand on the steering wheel. Seokjin scowls, wishing she’d hurry up. They were going to be late for tryouts.

“Eomma, can you please just give it a break?” he grumbles, but she reaches into his bag anyway, peeking at the envelope with the preview.

“Oh, you look sooo handsome my boy!” she coos, beaming at the photo of him with his braces showing. Was she for real?

“Eomma, stop calling me that! I hate my life,” he whines, slumping into his seat. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his most treasured baseball card, Albert Pujols staring him back in the face. Why couldn’t he be more like his hero? Not the awkward, bumbling thirteen-year-old Seokjin that he was, but an all-star.

“I wish I was thirty,” he sighs, and he watches his Eomma purse her lips.

“Seokjinnie,” she says as she pulls into the parking lot of the baseball field. “Eomma loves you very much, you know that, right? Whether you’re thirteen or thirty.”

She presses a wet kiss to his cheek, her lipstick leaving a faint pink smudge on him.

“Eomma ewwww!” he groans but hugs her anyway with a smile. He knew he’d come home to a warm bowl full of kimchi jjigae tonight.

“Good luck!!” her voice fades off into the distance as Seokjin descends into the dugout where the locker rooms were, ready to give this his best shot.

. . .

The sun trickles through the small windows of the dugout, the grey specks of dust flitting through the air. It’s empty. Seokjin walks through, realizing there’s no one there. Did he come at the wrong time?

Pacing around the room, he looks for something, anything that would indicate the team had been here, a spare bat, or maybe a jersey somewhere. But his heart sinks when he realizes there was nothing. He’d been such a fool.

“Ohhhh Kimmmm,” a voice says from the shadows, and Seokjin feels his blood run cold. Turning around, he sees Jackson’s figure looming at the door, a devious smirk lighting up his face.

“Jackson, what’s going on, where’s everybody—” Seokjin begins, only to be cut off by Jackson howling in laughter.

“Poor guy,” he mutters, stalking towards Seokjin with a menacing gleam in his eyes. “Did you really think those tryouts were real? That we’d let a lame-o like you on the team? You’re more stupid than I thought.”

Seokjin feels like he’s being eaten alive on the inside, shame and humiliation coming over him in waves, his head slumping forward to stare at the ground while Jackson’s words ring loud and clear in the back of his mind.

“I don’t get it, I did the report for you, you said I–, I’d have a chance this year,” he stutters, Jackson backing him up against the lockers.

Jackson picks up a dusty baseball mitt off the ground, shoving it into Seokjin’s hands before pushing him into the locker, the door slamming shut and caging him in darkness.

“You never stood a chance, Kim. You’re just not cool enough.”

. . .

Seokjin doesn’t know how long he bangs against the door of the locker, knuckles raw and bleeding from being cut by the metal. His voice has gone hoarse from screaming for help, knowing that he’s out of luck for a few hours.

He hated everyone - Jackson, the team, all his classmates at school who made him feel like he was worth nothing. He couldn’t wait to grow up, to get out of here, and to finally be somebody he was proud of.

Bile rises up in his throat as he looks at the dilapidated baseball mitt in his hands. He wants to fling it off into oblivion, its presence only reminding him of how silly he’d been to believe that things would be different.

Still, it was all he had, and so he clutched it to his chest, blowing off the dust, rocking back and forth in order to comfort himself as the sun began to set outside.

“I just wanna be thirty,” he whispers into the darkness before his eyes shut and he finally falls asleep.

Seokjin snorts in the middle of his slumber, shifting around to make himself more comfortable, when all of a sudden, he feels himself land on a hard surface with a thud. Cursing, he rubs his shoulder, standing up but tripping on the edge of something soft.

His eyes open sleepily, but it’s still dark. Grumbling, he palms at his face, eventually finding the edge of something covering his eyes. A blindfold? How had that gotten there? Lifting it off, light floods his vision, and his heart stops.

The room around him was very unfamiliar - he catches sight of the rug he’d tripped on moments ago, his eyes traveling up to the sleek bed made out of dark wood with its rumpled sheets. This wasn’t his room. Where were all the baseball posters? And his GameCube in the corner? And his desk with his iMac?

There was only one answer for this - he’d been kidnapped. Panicking, Seokjin fumbles with the doorknob, stumbling into the hallway of the apartment, his eyes widening and heart racing at the even more unfamiliar surroundings.

“Eomma?” he calls out, padding down the hallway and taking in the sparse decorations. “Appa?”

He pauses when he sees a poster on the wall, a scantily clad woman in what can only be described as a provocative pose, and his cheeks flush with heat. He turns his eyes away quickly, feeling like he’s violating someone’s privacy.

The living room is even more strange, full of black furniture and far neater than Seokjin’s room had ever been. His eyes widen at the large flat-screen TV that sits in the corner, and he lets out a soft *wow* at the thought of being able to watch baseball games on there.

He turns to look around more, only to come face-to-face with a mirror. But the person staring back at him isn’t Seokjin. This person was not a thirteen-year-old with acne, a mouth full of braces, and dorky wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like one of those models on magazine covers, with hair pushed back from his face, skin clearer than the water at the beach, and a jawline that could cut glass.

He screams at the unfamiliar face, thinking there’s an intruder in the house with him. He staggers backward, tripping on the raised entrance to the living room, and falling flat on his back. Pain explodes across the back of his head, and he wants to cry.

From elsewhere in the apartment, he hears a door click, and he peers over at the mirror again. He freezes when he realizes there is no other intruder. The figure in the mirror moves the same way he does, copying his exact movement, and Seokjin brings a hand to his face, seeing it rest on the jawline of the attractive reflection.

That was him. He was the man. Was this some kind of dream? Or an alternate reality? He tests the waters, feeling around his face, tugging at the skin to see if it was some sort of costume. His hands fly to his chest, realizing that he’s shirtless, and he’s amazed by the muscles he finds underneath his palms.

“What is happening?” he hyperventilates, shocked at the deep voice that comes out, so unlike his own. “What is going on?”

His anxiety increases as he begins to pace around the apartment, coaxing himself to breathe and relax and take a seat. He’d find a way out of this.

Plopping onto the leather sofa, something on the coffee table catches his eye. It’s a letter, and he pales when he sees the name on the envelope.

It’s his. Kim Seokjin. But that’s not his address. Frantically, he sifts through the mail, growing even paler when he sees all the letters are addressed to him, and that they’re being sent to this same address. He lived here.

The sofa creaks as he rises up abruptly, searching anywhere he can for a phone. Finding it in the corner, he dials his parents’ number, silently praying they hadn’t changed it. His Appa’s voice greets him on the phone, saying that they were currently away in Korea, but they’d be back at the end of this month, and he lets out a heavy sigh. He was alone.

Seokjin thinks this is the weirdest dream he’s ever been in, but he’s interrupted by the sound of the sink turning on in what he can only assume is the bathroom in this place.

“Seokjin, babe?” a female voice calls out from behind the door, and he jumps back, terror seizing him. This must be the strange woman who kidnapped him! She was probably some kind of weirdo, why was she calling him babe?

Seokjin searches for something, anything he can use to protect himself, settling on an umbrella in the corner.

“I-, I know you’re there,” his voice wobbles as he yells out to the woman. “My parents are gonna be home soon!”

The door creaks open and out steps a woman. The first thing Seokjin can think of is legs. So much leg, peeking out at him from underneath a fluffy white towel. And then he screams again. Because she’s naked under there.

“Babe, where’s the conditioner?” she asks him, crossing her arms. Her chest is emphasized by this action, and Seokjin looks up at the ceiling. This was inappropriate. He had to get out of here now!

“Come join me!” her voice fades into the background as he runs, grabbing the first coat and the first pair of shoes he sees in the entryway. The stairs of the unfamiliar building wind around him as he descends, his head spinning, and before he knows it, he’s through a golden set of doors and out onto a busy city street.

A strange buzzing comes from his pocket and Seokjin yelps. Was he being attacked? Had the government bugged him?

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you hear that?” he says frantically, pointing to his pocket. “Do you hear the buzzing?”

The woman passes him by without a second glance.

“Kim!” a voice calls out to him. “Get your ass over here!”

Seokjin turns to the sound of the voice and stops in his tracks when he sees the person calling out to him.

It’s Jackson Wang, all suited up for practice. But he’s not the Jackson Seokjin remembers, his tall looming figure from their middle school only growing more intimidating with the amount of Jackson has built over the years. The man chatters away on the phone angrily, gesturing for Seokjin to get in the car. What kind of world had he found himself in?

“I-, I don’t get in the car with strangers,” Seokjin says confidently, turning away from Jackson’s grabby hands. The man scoffs.

“Can you please just get in bro? We don’t have time for this, we’re gonna be late.”

“BAAABEEE?” Seokjin hears the voice from the apartment again, looking up to see the woman from the apartment calling down to him, now wearing a bra. She blows him kisses and giggles. He definitely did not want to be stuck with her.

His head feels like it’s gonna explode, caught between two horrifying situations. But right now even though it was Jackson, the dude in front of him seemed less weird, and so, he falls over into the seat of the car, the door slamming shut behind him.

During the car ride, Seokjin peers through the windows of the car, taking in the bright lights and busy streets of the city around him. He’s in awe. He never imagined being somewhere like this before.

“Dude, I know I’m your best friend, but you’re acting a little weird, even for me,” Jackson says next to him, and Seokjin straightens up, looking over at him. His best friend? Maybe he had all the answers to what was going on.

“We’re really best friends?” he asks, and the man snickers in response. “Something really weird is happening to me.”

“Oh god,” Jackson groans. “Did you finally get a girl pregnant?”

Seokjin feels his blood run cold. Pregnant? He hadn’t even kissed a girl yet, how could he get someone pregnant?

“NO!” Seokjin blurts out. “No, no, no, it’s even weirder! I slept in an apartment I’ve never seen before, and there was a naked girl in my bathroom and I almost saw her boobs!”

He finishes with an exhale, but the car comes to a screeching halt at the exact same time, the other man not even saying a word before he gets out.

“W-wait,” Seokjin runs after him. “Please don’t leave me here, just listen to me, I’m thirteen years old–”

“If you’re gonna start lying about your age, Kim, I’d make sure it was something legal at least,” Jackson smirks, walking ahead of him on the street.

“I know it sounds weird, but strange things are happening to me, like, like that!!”

The buzzing in Seokjin’s pocket starts again, and he freaks out, spinning in a circle as he tries to locate the source.

“Would you stop it?” Jackson pulls something out of Seokjin’s pocket. It’s a shiny, flat, metallic object that continues to buzz in his hands. “It’s probably just Coach.”

“C-coach? Who Coach? What Coach?” He feels like his head is about to explode.

The phone is held to Seokjin’s ear.

“HEY BAABEEE!” A voice drawls on the other end, and Seokjin screams, throwing the phone to his companion.

“Get her away from me!” he yelps.

“Okay, listen to me!” Jackson roars, stopping Seokjin in his tracks. “You need to calm down. We have a team meeting in ten minutes. I’m going to tell you what to do, you just need to repeat after me.”

“Ok,” Seokjin says, taking a deep breath.

“I am Kim Seokjin, star batsman for the Eagles. I am a tough bastard, and I’m gonna walk into the stadium and not let anyone know I’m hungover.”

“I’m–” Seokjin prepares to repeat the words, but stops when he hears the rest of them. “I AM?”

But Jackson is already gone, disappearing behind the double doors that lead to a stadium Seokjin never thought he’d find himself going into. The Eagles. His dream team.

Seokjin follows Jackson through the stadium, oohing and ahhing at all the different banners and pieces of sports memorabilia that are on display. This has to be the wildest field trip he’s ever been on.

The man next to him scoffs.

“It’s not like you come here every day,” he chuckles, sarcasm seeping into his voice.

“I DO?” Seokjin can’t believe his ears.

The two of them walk through, scores of people greeting Seokjin and wishing him a good morning. He doesn’t know any of them, their faces all unfamiliar. But they knew him. They knew him and they loved him. He was a star.

“There he is, our star batsman!!” a voice bellows, and Seokjin is attacked by a man throwing him into the biggest bear hug.

“Coach,” Jackson whispers.

“Coach!” Seokjin repeats with a squeak, feeling the wind get knocked out of him. “You’re my coach!”

“That’s right kiddo, who’s your daddy?” the man chortles, and Seokjin responds with eagerness.

“His name is Kim— ow!” He’s cut off by a sharp jab to his chest.

He follows the two men into the dugout, surprised to see a room full of men wearing Eagles jerseys. The team. This was the team. He was on their team!

Seokjin buzzes with excitement, waving hello to all the players with a bounce in his step. They all look at him with concern etched in their features, and the guy he came with urges him to sit down in a cubby. The shiny letters of “4 Kim” greet him, etched on the plaque that adorns the space, and a weird feeling of pride bubbles in his chest. He’d made it.

“Team,” Coach clears his throat, and a hush falls over the room, the commotion dying down. “We need to get it together. The Hawks have consistently outplayed us in every game of the season this year, and they’ve been using our own plays against us. We need to move fast, beat them at their own game, hit them when they least expect it, especially if we have any chance of making it to the playoffs this year! Don’t you agree, Kim?”

It takes a second for Seokjin to realize the man is referring to him, and he sits up straight, anxiety kicking in because he hadn’t prepared a response to his impassioned speech.

He raises his hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

The team erupts into laughter, howls echoing off the walls of the dugout, before Coach blows his whistle, silencing them all at once.

“Get out there on the field boys, we don’t have time to mess around,” and Seokjin rises up, ready to throw the ball around for a bit, happy for the familiarity of baseball to make him feel grounded when it seemed like everything about his life was upside down.

“Not you, Kim,” Coach holds out a hand to stop him. “You’re injured, remember? Your physical therapy with the doctor is in five minutes. Don’t be late.” And with a nod, he leaves.

Seokjin was even more confused. Injured? But he didn’t remember getting into an accident of any kind.

He hoped whoever this doctor was, they could help give him some answers.

The clacking of heels signals your arrival moments later, Seokjin lifting his head up to asses the new entry to the dugout. When his eyes fall on you, he sucks in a sharp breath.

Wow. You had to be the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, pencil skirt hugging your figure perfectly, hips tapering out to an ass that he knew Irene Bae couldn’t have accomplished no matter how much she stuffed her cheerleading uniform with toilet paper. His eyes travel upwards, falling on your chest, and immediately he blushes, reminded of the woman in the apartment this morning. Your boobs are covered by a silky top, the fabric doing nothing to hide their shape, and Seokjin gulps. They look way nicer than hers, anyway. He wants to rest his face on them like a pillow.

Maybe he should ask you out on a date first, though.

“Hi Jin!” your soft voice greets him happily, a dazzling smile taking over your features, and Seokjin feels his heart speed up. He hadn’t felt this dizzy since he saw a poster of Beyonce in a bikini when he was shopping at Target with his mom. “How are you doing today?”

“F-fine,” Seokjin stammers, unable to look you in the eyes when you take a seat next to him. He tries to find interest in the specks that line the floor, but your smell overwhelms him, the sweet floral scent attacking his nose. You looked nice, sounded nice, and you even smelled nice. Not to mention you were actually nice.

And he was supposed to be alone with you? For longer than five minutes? Seokjin thinks he’ll pass out if you get any closer to him.

“How’s the leg?” you ask him, leaning over until your face is right next to his. Seokjin forces himself to look away with a blush, grumbling about how it’s okay. He wasn’t sure whether his leg or his chest ached more right now with the way you were staring at him.

“Let me take a look!” you say cheerfully, dropping to your knees, and reaching out to grab his calf, and Seokjin thinks he might throw up with the way he can see down your shirt, the soft white lace of your bra doing things to his head. He’d never seen someone more beautiful in his life. And you were taking care of him.

The next twenty minutes are pure torture, Seokjin holding his breath as you poke and prod all over his leg, stretching it in and out with curious eyes. At some point, he feels his pants start to become tight and freaks when he looks down and sees the beginning of a boner in his sweats.

He coughs loudly, causing you to jump in surprise dropping his leg, and he immediately finds the nearest mitt and puts it on his lap to hide his unfortunate surprise guest. You smile up at him, rising to your feet.

“Your leg is doing great,” you tell him. “It should be all healed up soon, just in time for the playoffs. And then you won’t need to see me anymore.”

“Wait,” Seokjin chokes. He just met you! He needed you to stick around. Maybe you knew something about him, about what was going on. “What do you mean, ar-are you gonna leave?”

You cock your head curiously at him, and Seokjin shrinks into his seat at your intense gaze. Was he being weird around you?

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly. “I’ll always be here when you need me, Jin.”

Seokjin’s heart pounds at your words, and he shyly rubs at the back of his neck.

“Thanks! See you again—” he blanks when he realizes he doesn’t know who you are.

“___,” you tell him, raising your eyebrows up at him, turning to leave. “Seokjin? Next time you come to physical therapy, try not to be hungover, okay?”

He watches you leave with a dazed smile on his face. ___. Meeting you had been the highlight of his day so far. Despite how strange everything had been, he knew he couldn’t wait to see you again.

Seokjin catches the ball with an oomph!, shocked at how fast these players could throw. It’d only been a day since he found himself in this new body, and he’d stumbled home confused after his session with you yesterday, eventually caving and trying desperately to hail a taxi to take him back to the apartment. He sobbed in relief when he saw the strange woman was nowhere to be found, slumping against the door and finally allowing himself to breathe for the first time all day. Tears tracked down his face as he thought of how often he’d wished for this, the life he’d wanted so desperately finally finding him in the end.

Even now, as he tosses the ball back and forth, he’s unable to believe it. Him, the star batsman for the team he’d idolized growing up? He wanted to call his Eomma and tell her, but paused when he realized she probably already knew.

“Something on your mind?” Jackson says to him with a laugh, throwing a curveball, and Seokjin feels his palm burn from the force of catching it.

Seokjin surveys the man who was the last person he remembered before everything changed, and wonders how they ever became friends. He wants to ask, but something feels uneasy about it – like Jackson would judge him for it. He would probably think Seokjin was clinically insane if he even tried to bring up how he fell asleep thirteen and woke up thirty one day.

He wishes there was someone he could talk to, someone who got it, and that’s when he sees you waving from across the field. You’re dressed more casually today, in slacks and a soft-looking sweater, and yet you still manage to be absolutely stunning.

Seokjin feels guilty for staring at you so much like he’s a stupid thirteen-year-old with a crush on his teacher, but he also genuinely enjoyed spending time with you yesterday. Despite your annoyance at his “hangover”, you hadn’t taken it out on him with words as the others had; you went about the session as normal and treated him with kindness the entire time through.

Seokjin waves goodbye to Jackson, sprinting in your direction. He misses the way Jackson’s eyes follow his back, trained on the way you greet him with a smile, the two of you heading back into the dugout.

“Soooo, you’re a doctor?” Seokjin can’t help himself from asking, immediately feeling stupid when he realizes that he’s meant to have known you for a while. He couldn’t help it - you felt like the only real thing he could latch onto in this world, his mind running a thousand miles a minute as he processed all the new changes that had occurred.

“Yup! I studied sports medicine in college, then went to med school,” you answer politely, your tone giving no indication that you found him weird at all.

“That’s cool, you must be super smart, 7th grade bio is hard enough for me,” Jin laments, immediately realizing his mistake with a soft gasp. “Was. It was hard for me, you know, back in seventh grade.”

“Are you sure you’re okay Seokjin?” you look up at him, eyes filled with concern.

Tears prick at Seokjin’s eyes, the earnest tone of your voice giving him the push he needed to be honest. No, he was not okay. He wasn’t okay, and he needed someone to talk to, and he thinks that you, of all people, might be able to understand. After all, your entire job involved empathy.

“Something really weird is happening,” he confesses, watching you listen carefully to his words. “I don’t know what’s been going on, but the last thing I remember, I was sitting in my closet, and it’s like I’m in a weird dream. I feel like I skipped half my life – I can’t remember the person I used to be, or what my life was like at all. It’s like I don’t even recognize myself.”

“I think I need help,” he continues. “I need help remembering who I was before. You’ve known me for a little bit, right ___? Do you think you could help?”

Seokjin thought he was onto something, but his heart drops to his stomach when he looks up and he sees you, face pale and lip trembling like you’re about to cry.

“I–, I don’t know if I’m the best person to help you with that Seokjin, maybe you should ask Jackson,” you respond, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Why?” he leans over to look into your eyes, shocked when they’re as misty as his own. “What happened, ___?”

Before he knows it, the vulnerable look in your eyes is gone, and you’re back to your normal, cheerful self.

“Hey,” you tell him. “Why don’t we pack it up for today? I’ll walk you back home to your apartment.”

“Okay,” Seokjin says, stomach still churning at the pained look you’d had moments before. “But can we get milkshakes?”

You smile at him, a look of fondness coming over you. You rise, beckoning him to follow you outside.

“I think we can manage that.”

The slurp of a straw interrupts your thoughts, and you look over to see Seokjin, eyes wide with delight as he drinks up the last of his milkshake, the whipped cream forming a mustache on his top lip.

You’re puzzled. The Seokjin you’d known before would have never agreed to hang out with you, let alone talk to you for an extended period of time. For as long as you’d known him, even in college, he’d been too arrogant for his own good, obsessed with letting everyone know the world revolved around him and him only. The man sitting in front of you is completely different, transformed in a way that didn’t even seem real.

The Seokjin that sat with you now seemed infinitely more unsure of himself, shy and hesitant in the way that only a child would be. You wonder what could have changed so suddenly. Coach hadn’t given you any reports about him undergoing head trauma in addition to his leg injury.

“Thank you for the milkshake,’’ Seokjin grins, wiping the cream off his lips, and you hate the way your heart skips a beat at that. You curse yourself for the moment of weakness, even after all this time.

“We went to college together,” you blurt out, not knowing why you chose to reveal this piece of information, given that he likely already knew it. “Me, you, and Jackson.”

Seokjin’s mouth gapes open, a shocked gasp escaping his open mouth.

“Really?” he says leaning in closer to you. “Were we friends?”

You furrow your brow in confusion. Had he really forgotten college? I mean it had been nearly a decade ago, and it wasn’t like life had drawn you back together until recently.

“Not really, you moved in a different crowd,” you chuckle. “Like not the nerdy, study in the library kind. More like the frat rager kind.”

“WHOAAAA,” Seokjin marvels in wonder, his voice filled with childlike glee. “That sounds awesome.”

“What if this isn’t just a dream? What if what I wished for actually happened?” he continues, softer this time, but you still pick up on it.

Reaching a hand towards him, you pull away at the last moment, unsure why you were acting so wildly out of character with him. It was like the energy between you two had completely changed.

“Well, you got everything you ever wanted, then, might as well enjoy it,” you smile at him, heart fluttering when he gives you a sincere smile back, his cheeks puffing out with happiness.

“I have to run,” you get up abruptly, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “But I’ll see you at the gala tonight?”

“What gala?” he asks, eyes looking up at your curiously. Your stomach turns in disbelief. Did he actually not remember? Maybe his schedule was so busy he’d forgotten.

“The charity gala that I organized for the team tonight,” you tell him. “The one to raise money for medical care for athletes who’ve suffered a career-ending injury?”

“Oh! I’ll be there,” Seokjin says confidently, beaming at you. You give him a weak smile back, knowing you have to leave before you did something stupid and made the same mistake twice.

“Arrivederci, ___!” he waves, turning to walk in the other direction before he disappears around the corner.

“Au revoir,” you whisper back softly.

Your life was completely different now, and there was no place for him in it.

Seokjin straightens his tie before stepping into his closet, perusing the many suit options he had. He wanted to pick his best outfit to impress you with tonight, but he was feeling overwhelmed with the size of the space, missing the days when his Eomma would drag him to Goodwill and they’d find the cheapest one that fit.

He settles on a navy blue one, throwing the jacket over his shoulders, and pushing his hair up off his face, before taking a step back to look at himself in the mirror.

Whoa. Seokjin still couldn’t get used to the way his body had changed, remembering the ugly duckling phase he’d been in the middle of before being transported here. He wonders if he was able to talk to a lot of girls now that he was more confident. Maybe he’d even had a past girlfriend that he didn’t know about. Maybe they’d even had sex.

Seokjin’s cheeks burn when he thinks about it, your face in the back of his mind. He imagines what it’d be like to kiss you, thinking about how soft your lips would feel. Why had the two of you never dated? Maybe because you worked together? Whatever it was, he hoped he could change your mind about it.

Stepping out of his apartment, he skips down the hallway to the elevator, giddy to be going to his first grown-up party. Well, not technically his first, but more like the first, he could remember. The elevator dings and Seokjin makes his way inside, a little boy his only other companion.

“Hi,” Seokjin says, but the boy just ignores him, looking at his phone.

“I’m Seokjin,” he says, extending a hand that catches the boy’s attention.

“Jungwoo,” the boy says, looking hesitant as he accepts the handshake. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Why not?” Seokjin says, feeling confused. “We’re neighbours, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungwoo responds despondently. “But you usually ignore me most of the time.”

The way he says it makes Seokjin feel horrible inside. He would never purposefully ignore someone like that, not after knowing what it felt like as a kid. He wonders what the 30-year-old version of him had been like to warrant such a reaction.

“How old are you, Jungwoo?”

“I’m thirteen,” Jungwoo responds, and all of a sudden, the elevator comes to a stop, signaling their arrival at the ground floor. Jungwoo walks out without another word, Seokjin running after him.

“Wait!” he says sharply, watching Jungwoo turn to look at him in shock. “You should come over and hang out sometime, we can watch some baseball together.”

“Really?” Jungwoo says hopefully.

“Yeah,” Seokjin smiles, patting him on the back. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later!”

And Seokjin runs out the door, excited not only to have made a new friend but at the fact that it felt like this strange life of his was finally clicking into place.

The room spins around you, and you can’t tell whether it’s because the arm around you feels too tight tonight or because the music is boring as heck. You want nothing more than to sit down, knowing all the attention would be on you in a matter of moments, and the thought made you sick.

What made you even more nauseous was your partner’s maroon tux. Maroon. To match your navy blue. When you’d asked why he hadn’t worn the same color, his only response was:

“Babe, this little thing isn’t that serious, right? It’s about the money.”

You excuse yourself, wanting to find some investors to talk to about how to contribute their generous wealth towards your aspiring fund, only to catch sight of Kim Seokjin in a corner, knocking back drinks with a giddy smile.

“____!” he waves you over happily when he sees you, taking your hand to pull you in close to him. “I can’t believe it’s 10:00 pm on a school night and I’m at a party, drinking pina coladas that aren’t virgin!”

Your jaw drops open when you see what he’s wearing. Navy blue - a smart-looking suit to match your gown perfectly, and you feel the back of your neck grow hot with thoughts you shouldn’t be having.

“Glad to see you’re doing better now,” you giggle, and his smirk turns lopsided with glee at your kind words, its unintended effect being to cause butterflies to bubble in your chest.

“I’d be even better if they turned off this boring music,” he slurs contentedly, taking another drink from the server. “Why don’t they play some throwback tunes in here?”

“I’m not sure that fits with the sophisticated vibes needed to gain a corporate sponsorship for my cause, I’m afraid.”

“I’d donate money to you,” he says softly, his warm eyes twinkling from the numerous fairy lights as they meet yours. “Heck, I’d give you my entire paycheck.”

Setting the glass down, all signs of his previous tipsiness disappear as he regards you with a serious stare. You watch his cheeks flush, his gaze dropping to the low neckline as he sharply inhales, bringing his eyes back up to your face.

“Wanna go for a spin?”

You’re mesmerized by him, transfixed as you take his hand, the two of you retreating into a private corner of the ballroom, right by the open-air balcony. The cool breeze creates shivers down your spine as Seokjin pulls you close, his warm breath fanning against your face, and despite your best efforts to look past him and out onto the city lights, you find you can’t take your eyes off him.

It all feels too short, barely a minute of you swaying in Seokjin’s arms before the beat changes abruptly, Usher blasting through the speakers. You feel achingly empty when Seokjin’s hand leaves yours, but the smile returns to your face when a moment later, he begins head-banging and gyrating goofily to the new song.

“Now this is more like it,” he hollers, and you can’t help but join him the two of you twisting and turning until you’re laughing, out of breath and delirious with joy.

The joy is cut short when another shadow looms over your meeting, pulling you into his arms.

“___, babe there you are! What are you and Kim doing hiding away in this corner?” Jackson pulls you into his side, and your stomach drops when you watch Seokjin’s eyes go wide with a mix of shock, and what you can only assume is pain.

“Sorry Kim, I know you get her for the PT during practice, but she’s mine for the PT after hours if you know what I mean,” Jackson grins, pressing a kiss to your hair.

Seokjin’s mouth remains agape, and you watch his eyes glimmer with realization as he pans to the thin band that adorns your left ring finger, finally noticing its presence for the first time.

A sharp squeal interrupts the tense moment between you, and you notice a woman in the tightest dress you’ve ever seen run over to Seokjin, nearly knocking him over as she wraps her arms around him. His entire body tenses up, and you want nothing more than to smooth over the hair that has fallen into his face.

“Baaabe, you’ve been ignoring me,” the woman whines, her nasal voice grating your ears. Of course. It’s Jennie Kim, model extraordinaire. Of course, she would be Seokjin’s date now – a match worthy of his striking looks and personality.

“Who are they?” she says vapidly, taking in you and Jackson’s entwined figures.

“I, uh, these are, this is ___, and Jackson, coworkers, and friends from college,” he stutters, trying to unravel himself from her death grip. “And this is, uh, uhm…’

“Jennie Kim!” Jackson immediately lets you go to take her hand, shaking it furiously. ��So nice to meet you!”

“Babe, we should get going,” Jennie tugs on Seokjin’s shoulder. “Don’t you remember we kind of had other plans for the night?”

“W-we did?” Seokjin stammers, and you decide you need to walk away, lightly tugging Jackson’s arm to follow you across the ballroom. Of course, he’d go home with her - she was beautiful, successful, and perfect. And you were just you.

“___,” you hear Seokjin’s voice behind you, yet you don’t want to hear anything he has to say. Jackson has left your side once again, going back to talk animatedly to Jennie, and you’re alone together once again.

“Should I go home with her? Jennie? Is it a good idea?” he asks, and you turn, meeting his gaze, which seems so earnest, so genuinely filled with concern for what you thought. Or at least that’s what your overthinking mind told you, kicking back into gear after eight years of wiping all thoughts of Seokjin from your memory.

“Yeah, you should,” you tell him honestly, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. “She’s your girlfriend, after all.”

Seokjin yawns, Jungwoo’s animated voice yapping away in his ear as the two of them walk down to the lobby together. His night had gone later than he expected - too much of it spent lost in the city streets as he’d run out of Jennie’s apartment, not expecting her naked boobs to be in his face the moment they’d come in. Her hands had been all over him, ignoring his suggestions of quitting to watch a movie or maybe even play a game of Monopoly.

“Girls are sooo stupid,” Jungwoo sighs. “Why don’t the ones you like ever like you? Why do they give all these weird signals?”

“Tell me about it,” Seokjin sighs, your face immediately coming to his mind, thinking about how you’d felt in his arms at the gala. Obviously, you’d looked beautiful, but underneath the dim lights, you shone in a way that he didn’t think was possible, one that made him feel very strange on the inside.

“Love is a battlefield, my friend,” Seokjin ruffles the kid’s hair before getting into his waiting taxi and waving goodbye. “Have fun with fractions! Remember, always divide by the number on the bottom!”

. . .

Coach was furious. The team was failing, their chances of making the playoffs dismal, and he made that clear with how he ripped into them with the speech.

“You better shape up now, or this franchise as we know it will be over!”

“Maybe that’s what we need,” Seokjin blurts out, watching the entire team turn to him. “Maybe we need to get our asses handed to us. Maybe we need to actually experience loss to realize how much is at stake. Because winning is great and all, but don’t we learn more from our failures?”

The locker room is abuzz with chatter, Coach clapping Seokjin on the back.

“I knew you wouldn’t let the hate get to you, kid,” he says, and Seokjin looks at him blankly, wondering what he could be referring to.

“ESPN?” Coach says. “That article they ran a few months ago about you being a slimy, unprofessional cheat just because you “injured” that player for the Cardinals? I knew it was all BS. I mean look at you, how could you hurt somebody when you’re injured yourself?”

Seokjin’s stomach sinks. He’d hurt another player? That was something he’d never dreamed of doing. He loved baseball, and everyone deserved to experience the joy of the sport, whether it was through winning or losing. That was what made a good player, not sabotaging others.

One by one, the players get ready for practice, Seokjin finally suiting up to go bat for the first time in a while. His sessions with you had tapered down as he recovered, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. The more and more he thought about the life he’d always wanted, one as a star baseball player, the more awful it seemed. Being a grown-up wasn’t as fun as he thought - people were liars, cheaters, and just plain old mean. But you weren’t like that.

The bat slams against the ball with a satisfying crack, soaring out towards the far end of the field, and Seokjin prepares to run. But two voices behind him make him stop in his tracks.

“Can’t believe Coach is trusting Kim and his new weird-ass stunt,” Jackson seethes. “Like he’s really gonna help rebrand the team? All he cares about is himself.”

“Yup, the prick was the entire reason our last shortstop got traded,” Jaehyun, one of the left fielders, hisses. “Can’t believe Kim had an affair with the guy’s wife.”

Seokjin drops the bat with a clank, the entire team turning to look at him. But he doesn’t care, storming off into the dugout. Was this really who he was? A bully and a cheater? Being thirty no longer seemed like a dream, it was steadily turning into a nightmare.

Storming through the dugout, he finally finds the door to your office, sighing heavily as he raps against it.

You open it within seconds, shocked to see his dejected figure standing in front of you.

“Wanna go for a walk, ___?”

“I can’t believe you and Jackson are getting married,” Seokjin remarks as the two of you walk, bringing up the proverbial elephant he’d wanted to ask you about ever since the night of the gala.

“Only a couple of weeks now,” you respond, wrapping your arms around you to fight off the chill, and Seokjin wishes he’d brought a jacket to keep you warm.

“Are you guys soulmates?” he asks, genuinely curious to know the answer. ‘Do you get butterflies when you’re around him?”

He knows that his question is loaded, that underneath it hides the depth of the feelings he’s managed to keep concealed for all this time, but he asks anyway, knowing the answer may hurt him.

“Nahh, I don’t really believe in that anymore. The last time I was crazy like that for a guy was in college,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders.

“Why weren’t we ever friends back then?” he asks you again, feeling you come to a stop next to him, your heavy sigh permeating the tense air between you.

“Listen,” you tell him, and your voice sounds thick with what he thinks are tears, “Can we just please forget about it? It was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Seokjin knows he may not have any reason to apologize but he still wants to anyway. It seemed like he’d left a trail of destruction behind him wherever you went.

“Seokjin, no, please, you don’t have to apologize,” you grab his hand and give him a weak smile, trying vainly to reassure him, but his rapidly racing thoughts get in the way.

“I want to though,” he says back, his own voice cracking. “I mean, do you even know the kind of person I am, ___? I don’t have friends, I just use people, I slept with a teammate's wife, and I never talk to my parents. I’m not a nice person. And the thing is, I’m not thirteen anymore. I need to stop living in the past.”

And with that, he lets you go, ignoring your cries of protest as he runs away, his mistakes following him until he gets home. Closing the door behind him, he slumps to the floor, sobbing while he dials his parents' number.

It was time for him to make things right.

Seokjin stares down at the facade of the house he’d grown up with, the chipped paint and wide windows instantly soothing his heart. The train ride over had been brutal, his empty eyes watching the scenery drift by aimlessly, ignoring the giggles of the group of teenagers that sat next to him.

He wished he could tell them to stay happy and young forever, to continue living without a care in the world. Being a grown-up wasn’t worth it. Instead of bringing him the happiness and the belonging he’d craved, it only made him feel more alone, more empty inside than he’d ever felt as an awkward teen.

Stepping onto the porch, he reaches under the doormat, relieved to see his parents left a spare key there. It was like they’d been waiting for him to come home this entire time.

As he walks through the door, a chilling realization sets in. The house was empty. His parents weren’t here, they were probably in Korea. And all at once, Seokjin’s hope for coming back came crashing down.

Stepping out of his shoes, he leaves them at the door, sprinting up the stairs to his room. The door creaks open, and Seokjin lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

The bed is gone, replaced with a treadmill. The walls had been repainted, the floors redone. The lone thing that remained of his was the desk in the corner, all his belongings still on it. It serves only to remind him that his parents had always waited for him to come home, but eventually, they too must have grown tired of him.

A sob escapes him, and he realized he’d disappeared completely from their lives, not even bothering to keep up with the only people who’d loved him unconditionally his entire life. All of a sudden he feels nauseous, his stomach turning as he realized the fate the threads of time had woven him - a life of loneliness. One where he spent so much time garnering attention, only to be a forgotten soul anyway.

He rushes into the basement, the garish yellow walls exactly as they’d been seventeen years ago, and locks himself in the utility closet. Tears stain his face as he hiccups, slamming his head back against the wall.

“I wish I was thirteen again, I wish I was thirteen again.” But his pleading words fail to work this time around.

He doesn’t know how long he remains crumpled up in the closet, but he doesn’t hear the front door open. He doesn’t hear his parents pad down the basement stairs, umbrellas in hand until the closet door opens, light seeps in, and he’s met with their concerned faces.

Seokjin leaps to his feet, throwing his arms around them.

“Eomma, Appa, I missed you. I missed you both so much.”

. . .

The rain patters against the window, and Seokjin turns over on the couch, watching it gently fall. After a bowl of his Eomma’s kimchi jjigae, he’d felt the most like himself he had in a long time, the two of them fretting over how thin he’d gotten.

But now, alone in the living room, Seokjin felt like an intruder again. His parents were more used to living without him than with him.

Suddenly, his throat feels dry, the number of tears he’d shed today leaving him parched. He gets up, padding over to the kitchen, keeping his footsteps soft so he doesn’t disturb his parents. Flicking the light on, he walks over to the fridge, opening it to get the water jug out.

“Seokjinnie?” his Eomma’s soft voice comes from behind him. “What are you doing awake at this time?”

Seokjin should have known better than to get up in the middle of the night. His Eomma’s sixth sense had always been knowing when her child needed something. Within five minutes, she’s boiling some frozen dumplings and chopping up vegetables to make him food.

He’s grateful for her attention, but his stomach churns with nausea. She may be the only other person he can talk to about this. Other than you.

“Eomma,” he interrupts her quiet concentration, and she looks over at him from the stove, her eyebrows etched with concern. “If you were given a chance, do you ever wish you could go back? Like to a different time?”

“I’d love to go back and take care of some of these wrinkles,” she chuckles, and Seokjin smiles along with her. Her face hasn’t changed at all since he was thirteen, still as youthful as ever.

“Yeah, but if you were given a do-over, let’s say, what would you change? Like if you made a big mistake,” Seokjin asks, wondering if having regrets was just part of growing older and whether there was still hope.

“Well, I don’t regret making any mistakes in my life, because if I hadn’t made them, I wouldn’t have known how to make them right,” she responds, a knowing twinkle in her eye when she sees Seokjin staring down at the food, failing to meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry I haven’t come home in a while,” he says, his voice heavy with regret. His Eomma reaches across the table, taking his hand in her smaller one, and squeezing it gently.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“This doesn’t make sense, I’m not even good at baseball,” you tell Seokjin. “Why do you want to practice with me?”

Seokjin looks at you, strolling through the park with him in a cosy-looking hoodie and jeans. While your outfit may not have been ideal for baseball practice, the way he looked at you still sent your heart aflutter, and you wondered what it’d be like to wear one of his oversized sweatshirts.

“That’s exactly the point, ____, I’ve gotten too comfortable practicing with the team. I know their every move, but we need to step it up for the playoffs. That’s why I need someone different. Someone who can keep me on my toes. Someone like you.”

You cover your face with your hands shyly, palms out towards him, and that’s when he decides to launch a curveball.

“OW!” you yelp. “Hey, I wasn’t ready for that!”

“Like I said,” Seokjin smirks. “I need you to keep me on my toes. Looks like you need me to do the same.”

The two of you toss around the ball for a while, your throws being much more unpredictable and much less powerful than Seokjin’s. Your ego inflated exponentially when you saw him miss a few, a smug expression on your face. When you look up at the sky, you realize it’s gotten dark, the sun beginning to set behind the trees.

“Hahaha, looks like the team might need a replacement pitcher soon,” you taunt him.

“In your dreams, ___, stick to helping people instead,” he laughs, immediately running towards you with a devious grin.

You squeal, running away from him, the two of you chasing each other through the park, your laughter echoing through the trees the entire way.

Eventually, your legs tire, and you slow down, hiding behind a tree out of his sight. It’s all for nothing when you hear his footsteps thud on the running path behind you, his arms coming to wrap around you, sending the two of you toppling into the grass.

“Ahhh, shit, that hurt more than it should have,” you groan, shifting onto your back. “We’re getting old.”

When you look up at him, your heart stops. Your heavy breathing slows as you look up at him, the stars from the night sky reflected in his eyes when he stares down at you, something hidden in their depths that makes your chest come alive with excitement.

“Wanna know a secret, ____?” he laughs, stroking your wrist gently with his thumb, and you look over to see your hands intertwined. You hadn’t even noticed you were holding his.

“You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever known.”

Seokjin’s plush lips descend towards yours, your breaths mingling for a brief moment before panic sets in, and you turn the other way, his kiss ending up on your cheek instead. You feel dizzy with emotion, immediately regretting the decision, knowing all you wanted to know was if his lips felt as soft as they looked. You’d been fooling yourself for so long, thinking your feelings for him had gone away.

You sit up, silence heavy in between you both, but you don’t leave, instead wrapping your arms around him and leaning onto his shoulder. He sighs contentedly, nuzzling against you, and the two of you remain there, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance.

“Ew, what do you mean you guys didn’t kiss properly,” Jungwoo looks at Seokjin from across his bed, five other pairs of young, curious eyes looking over at him. “Did she have cooties or something?”

“Stop it!” Soobin punches Jungwoo in the shoulder, earning a glare from the other boy. “You’re ruining the romance. Are you gonna ask her out, Jin?”

The baseball game in the background remains forgotten as the boys erupt with chatter, arguing amongst themselves about how to ask out a girl.

“I don’t know, guys,” Seokjin says dejectedly, wondering if the reason you’d only let him kiss you on the cheek was because you were engaged to Jackson. “It’s complicated with like, grownup stuff.”

“At least you have someone who likes you,” Felix groans. “Girls don’t exactly want to jump your bones when you’re a metal mouth.”

Seokjin jumps up at that, shushing Felix for even saying such a ludicrous thing.

“None of that, okay! We are young, and we are thriving. Love may be a battlefield, but we’re the Earth’s finest soldiers. So let’s get out there, yeah?”

. . .

It’s finally here. The game that will make or break the Eagles’ season. And it’s also Seokjin’s first game back. The locker room is abuzz with tension and anxiousness, the players tripping around each other as they get ready.

In his cubby, Seokjin sits, and thinks. This was the moment he’d waited his entire life for. To be a star player, and to win a championship. Yet, in the grand scheme of things that had occurred, it was just another thing he had to do. He no longer faced the same anxiety he had during the day of the tryouts, wondering if he was good enough. He knew now that he was. That all of them were.

“Kim!” Coach slaps him across the back. “Speech please!”

Seokjin rises up and looks at his fellow men and teammates. He feels silly, giving a speech to them when he’s probably the lamest out of all of them, with thirteen-year-olds for friends and a hopeless crush on a girl. But then he remembers the words of that kid in the bathroom right before everything had changed. Hobi.

And he’d rather be original than cool anyway.

“I think,” he begins. “Over the course of the season, we’ve all forgotten that we have a reason for this. Baseball is our sport, and it’s our career, yeah, but there’s more to us than that. We have families, friends, and people we love and care about. We’re doing this for them just as much as we’re doing it for us. Because when we go out there on that field, and we put the love we feel for ourselves, and for everyone around us, into the sport that we play, we’ll be at our best. We need to remember what used to be good, and harness that.”

The whole dugout is silent for a few terrifying moments before there’s a clap from the back of the room. It’s joined by another one until the whole room is thundering in applause, and Coach is hugging Seokjin with tears in his eyes.

“Looks like that time off did you real good, kid.”

. . .

Seokjin is the last one to leave after the victory, of course. He strips off his shirt, hitting the showers until all the sweat has dripped off his body, and now he pulls his workout gear over his head. The sound of a voice clearing behind him interrupts him, and he turns in surprise, seeing Jackson in the middle of the dugout.

“Hey,” Seokjin says. “Aren’t you supposed to go home? Isn’t ___ waiting for you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kim,” Jackson replies, ice in his tone. “I know your entire little stunt, and I’m here to tell you it’s not gonna work this time.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin feels his heart race at Jackson’s seething accusation.

“The moment this week ends, I’ll be married to ___, and I’m gonna ask Coach to trade me. You can’t have her this time, Kim. Do you think you can just bat your eyelashes and giggle and you’ll win the team over and get the girl? Nuh-uh. You’re still just a lame excuse of a person.”

Seokjin wants to protest, but he remains frozen, Jackson’s words causing his entire world to come crashing down around him. His lip begins to tremble, and when the first tear falls, he hears Jackson scoff, turning on his heels to leave.

“You never stood a chance, Kim. Deep down, you’re still just that scared, uncool thirteen-year-old. Nothing’s changed, and nothing ever will.”

The week before the playoffs passes in agony, Seokjin knowing that Jackson knew about his feelings for you, and the fact that he’d be traded, and you’d go with him. He spends all his time in his apartment, talking with Jungwoo about what to do, he and the younger boy go through many pints of ice cream.

In the end, he calls the one he knows he needs to hear from the most.

“Eomma?” he asks over the phone. It feels good to tell her everything finally. She’d squealed in delight when he told her about you, telling him that Jackson was just being a quote, “butthurt dipshit.” “What should I do?”

“Oh Seokjinnie, only you know that. Just stay true to yourself, and all the answers will come your way, my boy.”

When he hangs up the phone, a notification pings on it, and he gasps at the headline.

“Jackson Wang traded from Eagles.”

In all his misery, he’d forgotten what day it was. He was almost out of time.

. . .

The Internet was truly capable of modern miracles in this day and age, Jungwoo working his magic to help Seokjin find out the location of your wedding venue. Seokjin doesn’t even change out of his ratty sweats, throwing on his coat and running as fast as he can down the city streets, his phone overheating at how many times he ignored the maps function and changed direction.

Eventually, he comes to a stop outside the swanky hotel, strolling through the revolving doors and stumbling into the lobby. The finely dressed guests pay him no notice, and he manages to steal a bouquet of flowers, covering his face as he runs up the stairs two at a time, until he eventually finds your room number.

He knocks on the door, relieved to find it’s open, and that you’re alone. It must almost be time. You don’t notice him come in, too busy fixing your veil. A soft gasp escapes when you see him behind you in the mirror, disheveled and dripping with sweat, and you turn.

Seokjin thinks his heart might explode at how beautiful you look, your dress hugging every part of your body perfectly. But it’s more than that. Everything about you is radiant, glowing from the inside out. It’s like you’re the sun, and he’s the moon, your bright light complimenting his dim glow perfectly.

“Hey,” he manages to breathe out.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice heavy with disbelief that he’s actually here.

“____, I know I’m not the greatest person, but I’m trying to be better,” he reaches for you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and your hand comes up to join his, eyes glimmering with tears. “And I’d like to think if you also believed that about me, maybe you wouldn’t be marrying Jackson right now. That maybe things could be different.”

You whimper, trying hard to hold back the tears, and Seokjin doesn’t want you to ruin your makeup, so he wipes them for you.

“I can’t lie to myself anymore,” you tell him. “I felt things for you over these past few weeks that I haven’t felt for eight years. But I’ve also realized over the past few days that you can’t just turn back time.”

“Why not?” Seokjin asks earnestly. He wants to believe, has to believe that there might be a way for it to work.

“Because you made your choice, eight years ago in college, when I told you I liked you,” you respond, barely a whisper. “And you rejected me. I moved on and so did you. We’ve been going down different paths for so long, making different choices. And I chose Jackson.”

Seokjin feels dizzy, like the floor is about to collapse from underneath him. You’d liked him back then. And he’d been too caught up in his delusions to be honest with himself, to give you the chance that you deserved. And now it was too late. He knew growing up was about making mistakes, and learning how to deal with them, but somehow this mistake hurt more than anything he could have imagined.

“Don’t cry,” you say sadly, seeing his eyes fill with tears, mirroring your own.

“I’ll be fine,” he says with a weak smile, backing away. “I promise. I’m crying because I’m happy. I want you to be so, so happy.”

You reach around your neck, fumbling with the clasp of your necklace until it finally comes undone, putting it in his palm gently.

He looks down and chokes on a sob. It’s a tiny gold baseball glove. He’d never noticed it before. You close his palm around it, and he takes a step back, finding himself underneath the door.

“I love you, ___.”

He has to say it before he goes, he has to let you know how he feels.

“I love you too, Seokjin. I always have.”

And with that, he leaves.

. . . .

Seokjin stumbles down the steps of the hotel, hyperventilating as he finds himself back on the street, the tiny gold necklace still clutched in the palm of his hand.

He stumbles down the busy road, bumping into strangers, but not caring. All he could think about was the fact that you loved him back, and yet life was still so unfair. Seokjin felt stupid for even dreaming of this in the first place, realizing that dreams were nothing but a delusion. Things never turned out the way you wanted them to, the black and white of them always complicated by different shades of grey.

He finds an empty bench and sits down, clutching his knees to his chest like a child. Running his thumb over the delicate gold charm, he closes his eyes, wishing that none of this had ever happened to him, that he had just stayed thirteen this entire time.

He knew it was all for nothing, but that didn’t stop him from hoping one last time.

Seokjin jolts awake with a gasp, air burning his lungs and light hurting his eyes as the door to the locker is thrown open. His vision is blurry for a few seconds before it adjusts, and he looks up at his rescuer.

It’s a young girl, with a concerned look on her face.

“I heard you screaming, I live right next to the field. Are you okay?” she asks, and something about her seems familiar, but Seokjin can’t quite put his nose on it.

Looking down, he sees the dusty baseball mitt crushed in the palm of his hand, and running his tongue across his teeth, feels the metal of his braces, and his heart swells with joy. It worked! He was thirteen again. And now, he could finally start over.

“I’ll be fine,” he smiles at her, putting his glasses on. They rest crooked on the tip of his nose, but he doesn’t care. “Thanks for saving me.”

“No problem!” the girl reaches her hand out for him to shake. “I’m ___, by the way. I just moved here.”

Seokjin feels his heart stop, looking into your eyes, finding them to be the same ones he’d said goodbye to moments ago. Was this really true? Was the universe giving him another chance?

Taking his hand in hers, he shakes it, beaming down at her. “Nice to meet you, ___, I’m Jin. D-do, do you maybe want to go grab a milkshake and hang out?”

Your dazzling smile hasn’t changed at all, as you nod your head and laugh, the two of you walking out of the dugout and into the warm afternoon sun.

“I think we’re gonna be best friends, Jin.”

Epilogue

Seokjin pants, breath coming out in gasps as he carries the heavy box up the porch steps. He slams it onto the ground with a thud, putting his hands on his knees and letting out a loud groan, the muscles of his back aching. When he looks down, his mouth parts in surprise, the box’s tape having split open, revealing the myriad of photo frames that would soon decorate your new home.

From just a brief glance, Seokjin can already see a few pictures that make his heart swell, a dazed smile on his face. There was the one of you two at prom, when he’d almost confessed after seeing how stunning you looked in your dress but chickened out at the last minute. There was another from your college graduation, the two of you with bright eyes and wide smiles, ready to take on the future together. Another one from a date night at a game where he remembers the two of you getting caught on the jumbotron and making out in front of the crowd. His halmeoni blushed when she saw the video on tv the next day. On top of them all, though, sits Seokjin’s most prized possession: the framed photo of your wedding, Seokjin in a navy blue suit, and you in your dress, surrounded by your friends and family.

Growing up, Seokjin had a lot of dreams. A lot of them revolved around being cool, becoming someone worthy of your love. It was strange, but he’d fallen for you instantly the moment you’d rescued him from the locker, but it had taken years of your friendship for him to make a move. He’d always been so scared that his nerdy thirteen year old self would follow him through the years, and that he’d remain someone you never saw as a life partner. But he was wrong. Because you’d fallen for him too, spending years hiding your feelings in the same silly way. The day he married you was the day he’d realized all his dreams had finally come true.

Your soft footsteps come up behind him on the porch, and he turns to see you looking at him with a curious smile on your face. The sun shines behind you, bathing your face in its soft rays, and Seokjin can’t resist, lifting you up as you squeal, kicking your feet and the two of you stumble over the threshold together.

“That was a lot more romantic in my head,” he chuckles, offering you a hand up.

“Jinnie,” you poke his cheek. “Who’s gonna get the boxes from outside now, huh?”

Taking your hand in his, he pulls you further inside with him, wanting to cherish these precious moments with you. The boxes could wait a little longer. For now, he was excited to begin the rest of your life together.

“God, it’s fucking freezing,” you chatter your teeth, feeling Jin pull the blanket tighter around your shivering bodies on the floor. “Why did the heater have to break right before we moved in?”

His warm figure pulls you closer into him until your bodies are smushed together, limbs entangled in a mess.

“Nothing wrong with a little body heat,” he whispers, and even though you can’t see his face, you know he’s smirking.

You turn towards him, ignoring his soft ow! when you punch him in the chest, before burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your eyelids flutter, heavy from the fatigue of moving in all day, but the draft in the house causes you to shiver again in Seokjin’s arms. Looking up at your husband, you find his deep brown eyes focused on yours, his warm, gentle breath fanning against your face.

Seokjin’s fingers reach up to slowly brush a stray hair from your cheek, and despite the cold, you feel your body flush with warmth, bumping your nose against his accidentally before your lips meet Seokjin’s pillowy ones.

You’ve done this a thousand times, but every time feels like the first, Seokjin’s tongue tracing the seam of your lips before he bites at them, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Touch me,” you whisper against his mouth, and you feel Seokjin’s grip on your waist get tighter, his hands running up and down your sides until you’re shivering, but not from the cold.

He guides your hips over his, his right hand pushing you down against him until his hungry lips meet yours once again before they drop to mouth at your neck, sucking deep purple bruises into the flesh there, and you bite back a moan.

Seokjin detaches himself from your neck, eyes dark with arousal as he looks at the splotches and faint sheen of saliva on your neck, and you feel a wave of longing rush down towards your core, grabbing his hand that rests on your back and moving it underneath your shirt, cupping your breast in his hands before he squeezes.

From there, the two of you are frantic, fumbling with buttons and kicking your limbs until your clothes fly off, and you giggle at Seokjin’s pyjamas in the corner, the cartoon characters on them resembling miniature versions of your husband. Your laughter is cut off by a sharp groan when Seokjin’s teeth graze your collarbone, biting down lightly.

“You’re perfect,” he rasps, laving at the mark with his tongue. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

His fingers trace up your stomach, thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts before he tugs at your nipples, and you whine, grinding down into his lap. You feel him harden underneath you, and you roll your hips on top of him again, nails scratching down the broad planes of his back.

Seokjin flips you around, caging your body underneath him, his knee pushing up right where you need him, his tongue flattening against your stiff nipple, sucking and teasing the bud until it’s red and aching.

“Need you inside,” you bed him, your hips bucking against his knee while his hand slips between your legs, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

You feel the pressure in your stomach build, your movements stuttering against Seokjin’s fingers. It’s amazing, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough. You need to feel him.

“Look at me,” Seokjin whispers before he pushes himself inside of you, his eyes never leaving yours. You feel so unbelievably full, like you’re going to explode, body scorched with heat and nerves tingling in excitement.

He starts off slow, gently rocking into you, silently asking you if this is okay. His gentleness makes your heart feel like it’s going to explode, the moonlight shining on his skin and bathing him in the softest glow. You feel lucky that he’s yours forever.

You meet his thrusts with circles of your own hips, your back arching up off the blanket as you moan for him to go faster.

“This okay, babe?” His thrusts speed up, snapping into yours, and you’re unable to do anything but slur yes, your voice ringing in your own ears, your moans mingling with his soft groans as the two of you move in tandem, lost in the feeling of each other.

You grip his shoulders tightly, a string of curses exploding from your lips as the pleasure washes over you, your vision going white.

“Come for me ___,” Seokjin’s deep growl has you hurtling over the edge, trembling as you fall apart underneath him. You whine in oversensitivity when he continues moving inside of you, squeezing his hand until he collapses on top of you, his warm cum spilling into your wet heat.

“Fuck,” Seokjin groans, burying his face into your neck. “My back is gonna be so sore when we wake up.”

“Can you believe we’re here?” you ask him, looking into his eyes. “Married, with our own house? We’re so old now.”

You mean it as a joke, but Seokjin presses a kiss to your forehead, his sweaty arms wrapping you up in a tight hug.

“There’s no one I’d rather grow old with,” he smiles, before his expression turns mischievous. “Now, since we can’t sleep anyway, what do you say to getting some milkshakes, Mrs. Kim?”

“That sounds like a great idea, Mr. Kim.”

A/N pt 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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bastionbibi · 1 month

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"You chose the bullet, but I chose us."

[Or, the things Furuya said to his childhood lover as justifications for bringing him back.]

He warned me about you, or, more specifically, he warned me of what would become of you, if I rewrite your ending.

He warned me that your path was supposed to end that day, and if I were to force stone after stone to be built over unstable foundations, to prolong the road that is your life, I would be creating merely smoke and mirrors. And yet… he offered me this option anyway. Was it a test? Was it something else? I don't know, and would you hate me if I told you that I didn't care? Because I really didn't. He said it loud and clear with no uncertain words, that if I dragged you back from hell and recreated your path, you'll come back a scorched soul, not… my sweet Hiromitsu anymore.

But then again, were you even still my sweet, sweet Hiro?

Do you remember when we were 8? When you caught a fish for the first time? The fishermen next to us unhooked your prize and yet you threw it back to the ocean, the light of victory and accomplishment was gone from your eyes, when your brain finally understood why the animal was thrashing about, why you had to fight to yank it out of the water– Because it was in pain. It was in absolute, excruciating pain, and we were talking about eating it; we were talking about fishing, hunting, killing, scaling, eating. But you did none of that.

That animal was writhing in pain and you threw it back into the sea. You never liked seafood after that, I always wonder why, was the blood too much for you?

My sweet Hiromitsu refused to eat fish because you felt sorry for your first ever catch, it was so, so sweet, my kind, pure hearted soulmate.

You refuse to fish anymore, refuse to hunt, not even for sport. But you did kill again the last time we went to the sea, didn't you?

My sweet Hiromitsu, using a loop we both learn together in training, tying down her legs while I held down her body, Rye was there too, he held onto that massive cement bag like it weigh nothing, both of you hooking the ropes around her waist to the makeshift weight, you completely ignored her screams, didn't waste another breath before throwing her overboard. Just like how you did to your first prize, catch and release. A wet drowning, she must've died slowly.

But it was because you– we, didn't have a choice, did we? What Vermouth says, goes, and she wanted us to do a little errand and so we did.

My sweet Hiromitsu, drowning people alive.

He warned me that if you live, you will continue to fall, bit by bit, my Hiromitsu will be nothing but a cold man, heart dark as coal. But I told him that I'd rather have you like ice, than have your body decay.

That angel of death asks me, if I can live with myself, knowing the atrocities you will commit, the pain that you will inflict to others in the future, the result of your own mental undoing. You won't be able to handle the trauma of our assignments, that you will never return to my sweet, sweet Hiromitsu ever again, that the man I know you of today will be long gone when we’re 40, 50, older. But I didn't care. I don't care.

You will no longer be my sweet Hiromitsu, but you will still be mine.

So, don't blame me for that. I did that only because I love you.

I know that you feel horrible now, living with everything that you've done, the ghosts of our victims, the voices in our heads asking us why we did what we did but– it's alright. You have me, remember?

So, yes. I know it'll be painful, but I got there in time, right before you can pull the trigger. I saved you. Don't blame me now.

I sold our soul to the devil, so we can be together. Why… are you angry at me…?

…

You feel like something is wrong? Something doesn't feel right? But… But you don't know how much I hurt, you left me alone, you chose suicide, you chose the bullet, but I chose US.

I did this for us. Hiro. I did this for us. So we can be together, you and I.

…

But, but, if this really what you want, then so be it.

You want to die? You can't live like this anymore? Then so be it.

Then, you have to kill me first.

…

No?

Well… then. Will you stay alive? For me? I know you came back wrong, but you're all right in my eyes. I love you, Hiro. My sweet, sweet Hiromitsu.

#my fics #hirorei #its 2am #furuya rei #morofushi hiromitsu

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ezri261 · 11 months

Text

Sinful Constellation

genre: angst

Everybody knew that their soulmates' constellations were imprinted into their bodies once they turned 16, but why did Diluc dread getting his constellation? Why did he not want to know his soulmate? He, himself never knew. Maybe it was because of the possibility of the person being someone he hated. Loathed? Maybe.

But he couldn’t focus on that now since he still had duties to attend to; being one of the knights of Favonius, that is. He was focused on his work, dedicated, and simply loyal. He enjoyed his time with his friends and brother, it truly felt like his second home.

Although, everything in his life changed when he turned 18. His birthday. The day his father died due to a delusion and how his brother was a traitor. Did the world resent him? Did he do something to deserve this? Was the Anemo Archon punishing him? Nothing mattered anyway, he left the knights at the end, his trust being broken by the only people he truly cared for.

He couldn’t trust the knights to protect Mondstadt after that incident; so he took in the role of the ‘Dark Knight Hero’ to protect the Mondstadt citizens from lurking abyss mages at night. He’s done this every night in Mondstadt, successfully protecting Mondstadt and its people from harm.

Diluc planned to go out on a mission at night. A fatui harbinger was spotted inside the city walls of Mondstadt and he couldn’t let that side– He’ll catch whoever that is and bring justice.

He’s hated– no, loathed the fatui ever since his father died, vowing to never associate himself with the fatui in any way possible.

At night, he finally set out his plan, tying his hair back into a high ponytail as he tucked his vision inside his shirt so that the enemy thought he had no vision. He clenched and unclenched his fists as the chains around his fingers fit perfectly onto his hand, giving him more stability in his grip.

“Adeline, don’t wait for me.”

He curtly said before leaving the winery, already heading towards the base near the city, given that he had already found every clue leading to where the harbinger was residing in.

The domain was filled with traps, which he skillfully avoided.

‘Were the traps made by a five-year-old…?’

He thought, raising his eyebrow as his red eyes scanned the room, noting every nook and cranny there was, even going as far as to count the number of barrels and crates there were.

The enemies he’s encountered weren’t difficult for him to kill; just a bunch of cicin mages and hydro gunslingers. He almost scoffed at how easy the domain was, with no sight of the harbinger. He almost thought of the possibility that the harbinger had already fled, but he was quickly proven wrong when two hydro blades ambushed him from the back.

He was quick to barely block it with his claymore, having been caught off-guard by the sudden attack. Diluc put some distance between him and the perpetrator, and he noted that the man had freckles, ginger hair, eyes devoid of emotion, and a look of… Shock? Why?

He shook his head as he charged forward, wanting to apprehend the man, but the harbinger just defended himself, not making any moves on fighting the angered Ragnvindr.

Diluc could feel himself get tired with each hit he blew toward the ginger, fury clouded his mind as his anger fueled him to keep going, but he was still human, so after a while, his attacks became disoriented.

The ginger on the other hand, just kept defending himself, looking at Diluc with pleading eyes to stop. He couldn’t help but notice his constellation glowing on Diluc’s back, he just hoped that he would stop his barrage of attacks.

Once Diluc hit the final blow, he created some distance between them, wondering why the freckled man wasn’t attacking. The room was filled with a thick tension, heavy panting was the only sound filling the silence-filled space.

The once clean and put-together look of Diluc, was now a mess, his ponytail falling down as his clothes were wrinkled and dirtied. Once he finally got the strength to look up; the first thing he noticed was the open shirt of the ginger– and his constellation being imprinted onto his chest.

“No.. no, no, no, no–”

He recited like a mantra, his weapon being discarded onto the ground as he rushed forward to look at Childe’s constellation better. He couldn’t believe it, he was overwhelmed, a sob threatening to escape his lips as he looked at his constellation being imprinted onto Childe’s chest.

Once, twice, thrice– he was his soulmate, whether he liked it or not. The sudden realization finally dawned on him, looking directly into Childe’s devoid eyes in disbelief, he couldn’t help but shake and hunch down, his hands gripping onto Childe’s shirt tightly, not wanting to believe that he was his soulmate.

And Childe couldn’t do anything but look down at him, holding Diluc’s waist with comfort. He quickly realized that Diluc didn’t want to be his soulmate, and that crushed him. He was looking forward to finally meeting his soulmate too.

#diluc x childe #childe x diluc #chiluc #genshin impact #genshinimpact #rarepair #unrequited love #unrequited #angst

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dazaiandhislovelybandages · 11 months

Note

dudee you write for Hide from TG 👀👀 can we get a fluff/angst for when he has to go to the raid ty 🙏🙏

Sorrows and Kisses {Hide}

A/n: I haven't read the Tokyo Ghoul manga in like ages so if this took long know that I was just refreshing my memory 😅 anyways Hide deserves the world and also more people need to write about him (myself included) so if you have any requests, send them. Hope you like it 😘 also I made some changes here and there but it's okay because I can't fuck it up more than the anime did. Hopefully you wanted the Raid of Kanou's Lab and not the Third Cochlea Raid but if you didn't, I can gladly make it a two parter.

Pairing: Hideyoshi Nagachika x reader

Summary: Hide has been hiding things from you and when he actually comes to reveal them, you're not sure you can let him go

Trigger warnings: mentions of death

Something was wrong with Hide. It wasn't obvious but you knew him well and you were pretty sure that he knew that too. He had gotten a new job at the CCG as a part-time staff assistant. What that meant you didn't know but all of a sudden the dates between the two of you were not as frequent, no more sleep overs and most definitely no hanging out at his place.

If you didn't know Hide, you would have thought he was cheating on you but there was simply no way this ball of sunshine would ever do something like that. So you did nothing other than making sure that he was eating and sleeping properly. Not spending time with him made you feel bad for sure but you assumed he was getting accustomed to this new life without Kaneki so you just wanted to give him time and space, confident that he would confide in you if he wasn't doing well.

With you being a history major and him studying Foreign Languaged Studies there had often been times when he would help you with a few classes here and there, mostly when it came to translation of a few passages. And tonight had been no different. You had asked him a week prior to arrange this small study date just to be sure that it would not overlap with his part-time job.

But here you were, watching the news, books scattered all over the place and Hide was still not there. Two hours. He was supposed to be there two hours ago. You had called him almost ten times and sent countless of texts yet he hadn't answered to any of them even though you could see he was active.

And then there was a knock on your door. Lowering the volume of the television, you stood up before heading to open. Hide pulled you in a tight hug before you could even say anything.

"Sorry I'm late." He walked inside with his usual smile even though this time you could see it was somewhat forced.

"What is this bag for?" You pointed at the black backpack he set on the floor before removing his shoes.

His first instinct was to raise his hand to his chin and that was when he gave himself away. You saw him looking behind your shoulder, at the television. "Ah it's all over the news..." He mumbled and took your hand.

It didn't take you long enough to understand what he meant, where he was going or what he had come to your place for. It took you mere seconds.

"No..." You stared at him, eyes starting to water. "Don't do this to me."

"Shhh..." He hugged you again, his left hand rubbing circles on your back as his right one held your head in place against his chest. "Nothing will happen. Marude told me that people in the position I will be in rarely die." He laughed. "And you know me... nothing bad is going to happen."

"You don't know that." By that time you were full on crying and Hide was trying his best to calm you down by placing soft kisses on the top of your head.

"But I do." He chuckled. He was glad that your face was buried in his chest and you couldn't see the tears rolling down on his cheeks. "I might be a little late but I'll come here after the whole thing is done. We haven't slept together in a long time."

"Promise?"

"Do I even need to say it? Of course I promise. I will come back here and we'll spend the entire night together, or day it depends on when I will return." He giggled.

Hide returned two years later.

#tokyo ghoul x reader #hide tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul manga #tokyo ghoul anime #tokyo ghoul #writing #anime and manga #anime #hideyoshi nagachika tokyo ghoul #hideyoshi nagachika x reader #hide x reader #hideyoshi nagachika #hide tokyo ghoul x reader #hide nagachika #hide nagachika x reader

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shy-urban-hobbit · 1 year

Note

Hiii can I get a 47. “Trust me.” from the Angst/fluff Prompt List with Aiden/Lambert? Ty! 💖

You most certainly can!!

47 - "Trust me" Lambert isn't used to being anyone's favourite and is, in true emotionally constipated Wolf style, super mature about it.

Lambert was never anyone’s favourite. Geralt was once again The Golden Boy thanks to his bard’s songs; Geralt himself had his sorceress who only had to click her fingers for him to come running and Lambert knew that Vesemir favoured Eskel, however much the old man tried to hide it. It was fine, honestly. If anything his life both before and after he was claimed by the Witchers had proven that being the centre of anyone’s attention only led to trouble and pain.

And then Aiden had happened. Aiden, who would give Lambert his full attention when he was speaking, no matter whether he was ranting about something inconsequential or telling a particularly funny anecdote. Aiden, who had surprised him with a bag of candied nuts and a casual “You said once that they were your favourites.” Just because ( fuck, even his brothers would forget that small fact and he’d grown up with them). Aiden, who would see to Lambert’s swords and armour if Lambert was ever too exhausted or too injured to do it himself (although to be fair, he’d returned the favour a few times with that one).

Aiden, who had thrown him for a loop by being the first person in his entire adult life who wanted to know about him. Not his ‘famous’ brother, not Lambert The Witcher, just... Lambert.

He found himself unexpectedly sympathising with Geralt about his bard as he waited for the other shoe to drop - no wonder Geralt was constantly trying to chase him away! How long before Aiden got bored, before he decided Lambert wasn’t actually worth knowing?

And so, he’d done what Vesemir had tried to encourage him to do since he was wet behind the ears – he’d taken a leaf out of his older brothers book.

At first Aiden was gracious enough to not push Lambert on his sudden, constant surliness, just reassuring him that he was there if Lambert ever decided to talk about whatever was bothering him. The Cat had been more persistent than Lambert had given him credit for (causing him to once again sympathise with Geralt about stubborn traveling companions), however, after weeks of this Aiden’s reassurance had finally turned to annoyance, which Lambert had latched onto like a leech and had resulted in a shouting match in the middle of the woods with language that would have gotten them thrown out of any respectable Inn. After several insults towards each others mothers and respective Schools, things finally came to a head.

“Just fuck off, Aiden!” Lambert yelled, jabbing a finger towards the surrounding trees.

“Oh believe me, I’ll be glad to see the back of you at this point but first you’re going to tell me what I did to piss you off!”

“Fucking nothing!”

“Then why are you-“ Aiden gave a frustrated, bordering on dangerous snarl before tackling Lambert to the ground and having him pinned and immobile before Lambert even knew what was happening (fucking underhanded Cat training), “I’m not going to keep going in God’s damned circles about this and I’m tired of you acting like someone’s pissed in your porridge. Talk to me, damnit.” Aiden growled, visibly forcing himself to take deep, calming breaths from where he was perched on top of Lambert.

“Just fuck off, Aiden.” Lambert repeated with far less bite, “You’re going to leave anyway so may as well do it now.”

Aiden blinked, “What – what ? Why would I leave?”

“Because people only ever want my brothers.”

“Lambert-“

“It’s fine.” Lambert bit out, “I’m used to it.”

“Lambert,” Aiden shifted slightly to allow Lambert to sit up if he chose to, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I couldn’t give two shits about your brothers. Frankly, I think Geralt could stand to be knocked down a peg or two. I much prefer you.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you.”

Aiden made it sound so simple...

“No, you don’t.”

“I’m not in the habit of traveling for weeks at a time with people I hate, Lambert. I want to be with you, I like being with you.”

Aiden stood, offering Lambert a hand, “Trust me.”

Lambert took hold and allowed Aiden to pull him up.

#the witcher #witcher #the witcher fanfiction #aiden/lambert #aiden x lambert #lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #laiden #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #lambert

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splinterheart · 1 year

Text

hello, hello! this is star (he/him, 21+) with do hyeonju, a witch that can probably be found rotting at the library, staring blankly at the sea, shakily drinking an abnormal amount of hot coffee.. if you happened to be looking for him. (are you sure you want to?) here you can find his profile and right here, his plots! you can also find more beneath the read more, and i'll be around to plot or chat if you'd like. i hope you have good morning/day/night whenever you see this! <3

his memories from when he was younger are a little hazy. he doesn't remember much other than being in and out of several families for adoption, but never being able to stay long enough for it to stick feeling like a real family. everything just always feels off.. wrong to him, anywhere he goes. he also has no information about his birth family or where he came from, and when he's old enough, he's on his own as soon as he can be.

he does a lot of wandering, a lot of couch-surfing, here and there work and favors to keep him afloat. he's in a relationship that lasts the longest he's ever had anything- a few years, something he thinks may last a lifetime, and it ends abruptly, leaving hyeonju heartbroken and needing out.

having to get out, literally, as he's kicked out and finds nowhere else to go. he finds himself on a bus and lets it take him as far as he can until his money nearly runs out, and he lands on mabeob island. he had heard about the meteor showers before, and feeling lost, stays for enough time to wish on a falling star. and then he just.. doesn't leave.

maybe it's the fact that there's nothing else waiting for him, but there's something about the island that's familiar. and if there was a curtain over his eyes, it's slowly being lifted. ever since the meteor shower, he can see the red strings tied neatly around each person's ring finger, trailing in knotted anchors to the other side of their hearts, but his own hand, empty.

it comes to him in pieces. this island is more familiar than he thinks. one day, he's perusing fruit at the markets when an elderly women drops her basket and takes his face in her hands and starts to cry. and he doesn't know her, doesn't know the man behind her, either, but can see the strings tying their hands together.

it's his grandmother. there are pictures of him, here, before, as a child, and she explains how he had been taken away for his own safety. his mother, having fallen in love with his father despite the arranged marriage her parents had set forward for her, had hyeonju unexpectedly and left him in the care of his father's grandparents.

his father, heartbroken and throwing himself into work to handle not being able to be with the one that he loved, one day becomes lost at sea, a sailor of his own boat that sold fish in the markets. he still hasn't turned up to this day, but once his mother's grandmother had discovered hyeonju's existence still on the island- she ordered his mother to arrange him to leave to not be a distraction, as she had been visiting hyeonju in secret despite ending things with his father, and him becoming missing.

his memories had been taken from him of before, to somehow dissuade hyeonju from returning, yet he still found himself back, anyways, his own strings pulling him back to his roots. it's his grandmother that tells him of his magic and of how she suspects there was more that happened the night he was taken away, that she swears the spell his other grandmother cast on him to clear his memories did something else, too, to his magic, his identity.

it makes him think of his wish- of how he had only wanted to know what true love really was, if it even really existed, and why love had always been so hard for him to find. to keep. and looking down at his hands, untangled from any red strings to lead him to anyone, wonders if there's more there than he thinks. that his whole life, there had been more than just him, that maybe it wasn't all actually his fault.

it's not something he can easily unlearn. and meanwhile, learn more of himself, and his magic, and so he takes up a job at the library and spends his time reading up on anything he can get his hands on. lives at eopshin heights but often visits his grandparents at the outskirts, and slowly pieces his life together.

it's where he is now. after living so much of his life thinking he was human, and not knowing of so many pieces and finally getting memories, bits of it come back the longer he stays. all he wishes is for more understanding. to be able to believe, again, in all of the things he thought he had lost hope for. to get all of those answers he had always been seeking but never had been able to find.

tldr . hyeonju is a witch with a Lot of family baggage that he's just now starting to uncover, along with his magic and all of his memories slowly starting to come back, all of the perils he brought with him from seoul (no one will ever love me no one has ever loved me it must be My fault), and that he can now see everyone else's red strings but his own

and also where is his mom and grandmother and the rest of his extended family on that side . did they just Run after they decided the whole fate of his life and Probably was the reason he ended up like this anyways? are they hiding from him? did they make themselves hard to find? he will keep reading his books and trying not to rot all of the grass underneath him when he lays down in it to breathe for a little while (that is Not him messing up patches of the forest.. that's so funny. fall came a little early this year. oops)

plots! i do have a plots page here but i'm open to just talking something out or putting our muses into whatever evil thing we can cook up if you want to just do something fun! but some quick ideas:

give him someone to go dancing with and forget everything for a little while, i think he would be really into the feeling of being in the dark and getting lost in the music, even if they Were just pretending for the fun of it (who they are what matters that everything is kind of Not okay but it feels okay in this moment here with you)

he is probably making too much of a ruckus above/below/beside your apartment and it's because he is singing and dancing to music and unaware of how loud he's being. yell at him or let him bring by some cookies as consolation later

he keeps seeing you around town and remembers that you have that one book overdue and he's just like. please give me the book back. ill pay you (he will probably just snatch it and run he has no money but please still give the book back the library is missing so many as it is)

he probably is at the beach a lot staring out at the water thinking about Life (and if his father is still out there. if he even knows about him) but maybe they have a habit of running into each other and just start having a Beach Book Club but the books are just that they talk about life and feelings and the ocean makes them feel a little better about it

really anything! friends or enemies or someone to drink with or carry home at night or bump into and turn it into a streak of Why are you always right in front of me when i am trying to go anywhere

you knew him when you were young and he's forgotten now but he really wants to remember you. keeps asking you to show him photos and take him places and eat the same ice cream you did on that afternoon and smell the same flowers to try and remember. maybe he did remember awhile ago and now he just likes spending time with you. someone to remind him that the love really is there and it really does matter (and he really does care)

anyways this is way too long already but if you have read this far then hyeonju and i give you a gold star! (his is a little rumpled but mine is so shiny and glittery) my dm's are always open if you want to plot anything out or chat, so i'll hopefully see you there if you'd like!

#mabeob:intro #look away at how long this was #i can't see it you can't see it either

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chehkovs-blue · 1 year

Text

He lies against the wall.

He saw him. He knows he did. He was here.

He tries to pull against the sticky bindings holding him, but it’s a futile effort.

Above him, the dot matrix display sparks to life for the first time in … he doesn’t know how long.

It’s red, that means …

I dreamt I was back there. With him. Ghostbur. He was … terrifying. Kind of … decomposed. Like he was rotting into the wall. And he looked up at me. And he … knew me. Wanted me.

Ghostbur watches the matrix with wide eyes. He’s talking about him, but to who?

... What's so scary about that?

Green this time, but that means …

He wants to pull me back there, and I — I can’t — Fuck. Sorry. Shit.

The matrix breaks up a little, water dripping from the ceiling making it spark and flicker.

Fuck, sorry. It’s so bad there, Sal. I can’t — I don’t have the right words — And I’m alive!! I’m alive!! I’m not like him. The one thing that green bastard did right was bring me back. To here … to you … I’m not fucking wasting that. I’m not giving that back. He’s an accident. I’m the real one.”

He was right. Sally’s there. He’s talking to Sally! He bristles at the other one’s conviction. He’s very much real, thank you very much. Just as real as him. Just as entitled to life.

There’s a pause in matrix and then.

Sorry. I know you don’t want to hear this.

I don't think it was an accident. I think you just died.

A longer pause and then,

... Why do you hate him so much?

I don’t … hate him. It’s more … he shouldn’t exist. I look at him and he’s … wrong. He shouldn’t be there … And he’s so soft. And weak. And everything I — I guess I do hate him. A little.

Ghostbur scoffs, but his eyes are glued to the screen. So, this is what he thinks. Well, the feeling’s mutual.

I look at him, and I see me. I see the me I was crying alone in L’Manberg when nothing was going right. The me in … in Pogtopia … fuck you don’t even know about Pogtopia … probably better you don’t … when I couldn’t let Tommy see how bad things were getting. Let’s say that.

Ghostbur remembers Pogtopia. Or he doesn’t. He doesn’t know. It sounds nice.

He’s the worst me. The me I don’t want. The one I left behind and good riddance. And now he’s been in Limbo for … fuck I don’t even know how long, and it’s like … he’s become part of it. Fusing with it somehow. I don’t know. That didn’t happen to me … maybe it would have if I’d stayed longer … My worst enemy tied to the most horrible place I’ve ever been …

Ghostbur looks down at himself sadly … yeah … he can’t remember when the blue began to grow into this … thing surrounding him. Sometime after he just gave up, lying against the wall, not moving, blue leaking from him like a hemorrhagic wound, somewhere between the second and third decade, the spores had begun to grow and sprout around him. He didn’t pull them away. What was the point. If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine it was Friend’s fur. He misses his sheep …

The matrix is lit up again. He looks up at it. Hungry for any new information.

I had to kill myself to get out of the dream this time. I stepped in front of a train.

So that’s how he did it …

... That's scary … But he seemed really sweet when I talked to him. Sweeter than you, anyways.

… He remembers this …

When … when did you speak with him?

It was short. I mean, it was kinda freaky so I didn't really ... You know. But he was really soft. Kinda cute.

He remembers … he remembers her. She was so nice … not like he … she was kind to him …

But when, what — where?

A beat, and then,

Did you like him better?

Ghostbur snorts. I bet she does, he thinks viciously. I bet she hates you.

I dunno -- when he was with Fundy? It was only for a second...

Recently?

No, idiot, when you were dead...

Ha. She called him idiot.

And you liked him?

I mean, he was fine.

He watches desperately for her to elaborate, but in vain. It seems their talk of him was over.

So Alivebur is scared of him.

Interesting.

He starts pulling at the bonds tying with more vigour.

He will be free again.

He will see sunrise.

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faveficarchive · 2 years

Text

Again - Part 1

by Kim Pritekel

Disclaimers: No they're not, yes they do, no you can't.

Subtext: This story is of this nature, so if you don't wanna read something of such good taste, go away.

Violence: Nope.

To Alexa: Always and Forever

The rain had stopped hours ago, but I continued to stare out the window anyway. Nothing better to do. I had yet to go see her, but was not able to get my mind off of it, and what inevitably will happen; Michael and Margaret Lodge, staring at me, glaring at me. Wondering to themselves how they ever could have allowed someone like me into their house, or into their very world. Well, as Margaret had told me long ago, my kind was devious.

I shook my head, crossing my arms tighter around myself. After nearly ten years they probably had yet to get over their childish prejudices. No matter. It wasn't them that I was here for. Caden. She was what mattered. Why I had come back to Boston. I said I would never return, there was nothing for me there. Never was. But, now I had to concentrate on why I was back. What had brought me here. There really was only one person I could think of that was important enough for the trek. Hell, I hadn't even bothered for my own father's funeral three years ago.

"Hey, Laurel. How are you? Gooper here."

"Gooper?" I thought for a moment, confused, then my eyes opened wide in recognition and surprise. "Mike? Mike Lodge the third?" I had been shocked to hear his voice on the other end of the line.

"Sure is. Been awhile, eh?"

"You could say that." I smiled, leaning back against the floor-length windows of my studio. I motioned for the model to cover herself. "So to what do I owe this surprise? And how did you find me? San Diego is a far cry from Boston." Michael chuckled.

"That it is. But, it's not too hard to find Laurel Gleason. Hell, all I had to do was look on the back of one of your photographs hanging on my wall." I laughed along with him. "Also, it helps to know a few folks who happen to know the great artiste."

I shook my head again in wonder. "Yes, I suppose it does, and if you'll give me their names, I'll have them fired. So," my voice trailed off, the question obvious.

"Ah, well, I wish I was making a social call, but unfortunately I'm not." He sighed, and I began to worry. "Caden is asking for you."

"What?" I stood straight up, my model looking at me in concern. I turned my back on her and began to pace. "What do you mean, asking for me? Why? What's wrong?" Immediately my danger sense went off.

"Well, three months ago she was diagnosed with an Astrocytoma. In other words, brain cancer, right at the brain stem."

"No." I breathed. " Is she okay? How serious is it?" my pulse began to race.

"Well, she's going into surgery in three days. I don't think it's life-threatening, but, there's always that chance. She wanted to see you before she goes in. So, here we are."

I let out the breath I'd been holding, and closed my eyes, my hand on my forehead.

"Why did she ask for me, Mike?"

"I don't know, Laurel. Perhaps she was worried about not making it. Tying up loose ends. Anyone's guess. Will you come?" he asked after a slight pause of uncertainty. I stared out into the busy street below, my mind whirling. Coming to a decision, I nodded.

"I'll be there tomorrow."

I shivered and turned away from the cold glass, looked around the hotel room. They all began to look alike after awhile; bed, bathroom, kitchenette, a sitting room if you were lucky. Same smells, same empty feel. I was so glad that I didn't travel much anymore. Getting a clientele near home was the best thing to happen to my career, and my sanity.

I sighed. I was having a hard time placing the Caden I had known with the woman that she was today. We were so different now. Me, single, career. Her, married, mother. Straight. I thought about the Caden I had known at Franklin & Marshall, beautiful and healthy. Tall with dark hair that fell just to her shoulders, hair that she used to love me running my hands through. Her eyes, a brilliant blue, vibrant, almost electric.

Was all this worth it? All that was over. We had been young, and trying to discover who we were. But still…

I walked over to the bed, laid back, hands behind my head, thought of the last day Caden and I had lived together as roommates…

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, my voice quiet, eyes swollen and red from hours of fighting and crying.

"I have to. You don't understand." Caden had said, her back to me as she continued to pack, carefully folding every article of clothing, neatly fitting all she owned into her suitcases.

"You're right. I don't understand." I sighed, and stood from the bed, walking to the door. "And I guess our friendship doesn't mean enough to you to tell me? All I want to do is help." Caden stopped for a moment, looked at me over her shoulder, her blue eyes sad and hopeless.

"You can't help me, Laurel. No one can." Then she gave me her back again. I felt another tear begin to slide down my cheek but didn't bother to swipe at it, letting it fall. I decided to try a different tactic.

"What about being a doctor, Caden? That is what you've wanted to do your entire life. Why are you throwing it all away? What is worth tossing your dreams?" she didn't' answer. I tried to stare a hole through her, make her see with just the power of my eyes. Nothing. "Okay." I whispered, and left the room.

The small apartment I shared with Caden was a couple blocks away from our college, so I headed for the F&M campus, usually my place to go to think or be alone. Fall was on its way as late September crept in. I hadn't changed out of my sweat shorts, which had been a mistake, so I found a bench, and sat down, curling my legs up to my chest. The night sky was filled with stars, barely perceptible above the lights of Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Not even countable, but comforting to know that they were still there, still to be counted on, stability. I needed stability in my life, and Caden had been mine. Until that night. My family had been rocky, and I had been on my own for too many years. Caden had been the one thing that I could look at and know it would still look the same. Like a reflection of a friend, always there for you.

Not anymore.

I buried my face in my knees, the cold skin making me shiver. What was she not telling me?

"Hey."

I looked up, startled. Caden was looking down at me, her hands buried in the pockets of her jacket. I didn't say anything, just looked up at her. She sat next to me, taking the windbreaker off, putting it around my shoulders, then straddled the bench so she could face me.

"You looked cold." She said. I snorted.

"Probably cause I am."

"Guess so." She looked down at her thigh, fingering the material of her jeans nervously. She began to speak, but stopped herself, instead taking a deep breath, then the words spilled out, "I'm pregnant."

My head shot up, and I looked over at her, mouth agape. "What?" her head fell even lower as she nodded.

"I found out two weeks ago. I couldn't tell you, Laurel. I was too ashamed." I was speechless as I looked at her profile, trying to read something in it, to no avail.

"I don't understand. Who? When? How could this happen?" My heart dropped into my stomach. Caden was not just my best friend, but I was also completely in love with her. I felt betrayed, which was absolutely absurd. I had no claim on her, no rights at all. We had said things, but still. She was not mine.

"Troy." She whispered. "Over the summer."

"Oh." I said, my voice filled with defeat. Finally she looked at me, tears in her eyes, which took me aback for a moment. I don't think I had ever seen her cry. "I didn't realize, I guess."

"There was nothing to realize, Laurel. We weren't serious. It just happened."

"What are you going to do? Why are you leaving school? You're almost done. We have a semester and a half to go!" I turned on the bench to face her, feeling the pain come off her in waves. "And you've already been accepted at Stanford for med school." I felt sick.

"I know, but I have to. I don't know what I'll do. I have to tell him still." She covered her face with her hands, her sob muffled before it was cut off. She looked up, past me, her eyes red and angry. "God forbid something happen to the Lodge name." She spat, then buried her face in her hands again as she began to really sob. "God, why me?" I felt my stomach lurch as I saw my friend fall apart. Scooting closer to her, I gathered her into my arms, rocking her gently back and forth, her fingers digging into the skin of my arms painfully. I didn't care. She was my best friend, and I'd be there for her no matter what.

If only she'd let me.

I laid in the dark on that hard mattress, staring up into the dark ceiling, thinking. I had been so shocked to hear the news of the impending baby. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that. Not Caden. I had not heard her talk about Troy for over a month, and figured that it was over. Well, had hoped, was more the word. I smiled into the darkness. How hopeless I had been then…

I was excited as the first day of college loomed just up ahead. My family was not a wealthy one, but I was still determined to go to a good school, and not some community college in Southie. I wanted a four-year degree, to be the only one in the Gleason family to get one. My dream was to be an artist, and only the very best would get me there. In school I had fought to get the best grades, and the effort paid off as I graduated with nearly perfect grades, and was granted a full scholarship to Franklin & Marshall college in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. The excitement had raced through me like adrenalin the day I got my acceptance letter.

"Laurel, get your mail from the table." My mother had yelled from the utility room where she had been folding laundry. I dropped my backpack onto a kitchen chair, then looked through the pile of paper, and old newspapers stacked on the table. There it was.

To Laurel M. Gleason from Franklin & Marshall Office of Admission.

Without a second of hesitation, I ripped the envelope open, and poured over the words, my brows raising higher with every word.

"Yes!" Jumping into the air, my boots coming down on the old, stained kitchen tile with a thud. "I got it! I got in!"

"What the hell is all the ruckus about!" my father stormed as he flew down the stairs. He wore his usual, stained undershirt and wrinkled work pants. Doesn't the guy ever shower? I turned to him, waving the letter madly in front of his face. The guy was a bastard, but I didn't care. At that point I would have showed the devil himself.

"I got in!"

"Got in where?!"

I could see he was getting irritated with the mystery, so I handed him the letter.

"They're going to pay for me, too!" my father took the paper, looked at it, his perpetual scowl in place. He raised a hand and scratched at the stubble on his chin before green eyes looked at me. He nodded with a small smile.

"Good for you, kid." He said, and walked away, tossing the paper onto the table and grabbing a beer out of the fridge before plopping his weight into a squeaky chair. Okay. Score one. I grabbed my letter, and headed to the utility room, thrusted it in front of my mother. She looked at me, startled and annoyed.

"Read." I said, grinning from ear to ear. She took the glasses from on top of her head, and placed them on her nose, squinting through the lenses, the prescription never right in them. She looked up at me, a smile on her face.

"Oh, Laurel." She carefully folded the paper, and set it on top of the dryer, turning to me, gathering me into a warm embrace. I found myself wanting to lose myself in that show of support. I had needed it my whole life, and my mother had done her best under the ever watchful eye of my father. "I'm so proud of you, honey." She pushed me away slightly, and looked into my eyes, her hands on my shoulders. I looked into her tired face. "You go out there, and blow them all away. Make me proud as you always have. Do what I never did, and what your father and brother won't do," she looked toward the kitchen to make sure Derek Gleason wasn't paying attention. " Don't you let yourself get sucked into this kind of life, honey. It's not worth it." I stared at her, dumbstruck. My father was a hard man, and one I certainly didn't understand, but I had no idea that my mother had such strong regrets about her life. I suddenly felt so sad. I also felt the need to get out of the house, and away from my family, stronger than ever before.

Up in my room, I laid on the floor, my radio on low next to my head. The smile wouldn't leave my lips as the music disappeared, and my future came into focus. I pictured myself living in the south of France, my paints next to me as I studied my model, pallet in hand, blank canvas before me, just waiting for me to weave my magic.

I sighed in contentment. Someday.

I wrote down my calls as I checked my voice mail, then looked into the mirror again with a sigh. I looked good, wearing comfortable cords, a cream-colored Henley, and hiking boots. With one last swipe of my hand through short, blonde hair, I was ready to go.

It was the day before Caden's surgery, and she had asked for her and I to have a day together. I must admit I was somewhat surprised by this request. What did we have to talk about? I knew nothing about the life she led now, nor did I really want to venture into her life again. Some lessons are best learned once…

"Hey, Laurel, here's your mail." Stacey dropped the letters onto my desk before leaving the apartment to go on to work. Stacey Keller had taken Caden's place as my roommate. I muttered a thanks, and pushed the mail aside as I finished my sketch, my final painting coming to life before my eyes in black and white.

Hours later I stood, stretching my tortured back, arms above my head. I glanced down, looking critically at my self-portrait. Squinting, I canted my head to the side, grinning at how well I had captured the color of my eyes, and the expression on my face. Nodding approvingly, I saw the forgotten mail, and one letter in particular that made me stop, mid-reach.

It was from Caden.

I sat on the edge of the desk, staring at the plain white envelope for a moment before I slowly tore it open. Inside was a simple card, hand written message on the inside.

Hello, Laurel. I hope you are doing well. I heard that Stacey moved in. I'm glad. It helps with the rent, I suppose.

Well, I guess I'll get to the point. I'm sure you're busy during finals, and everything. I'm getting married. Troy asked, and I accepted. I am excited about it. We figure a child should have its mother and its father, so all around, everyone will be happier. I hope you will come.

I miss you, and hope you are doing good. Congratulations on graduating soon. I wish I were there with you. Do you still intend on taking the trip across the country that we planned?

Isn't life funny.

Love,

Caden

I read the card again. Happier for everyone? Caden's mother most of all to be sure. I turned the card over, noting the time, place and day. It was only two weeks away.

I crumpled the card in my hand and stared at my reflection in the glass, trying to decide what to do. The girl staring back at me looked confused and unsure. After what we had admitted to each other, she wanted me to see her marry a man, vowing to spend the rest of her life with him? And how could she bring up our trip? We both had spent hours upon hours talking about it, discussing it, planning for it. I think it had even been her idea.

I tossed the card, a satisfying thud as it landed in the bottom of my trash can.

The drive to Beacon Hill was pleasant, the area always amazing me, my artist's eye in ecstasy as I looked at the tree-lined streets, the large, spacious brownstones looming up ahead, incredible in their age-defying beauty. I hadn't seen the magnificence of the prestigious neighborhood since early college. It hadn't changed at all, but was still stunning.

I drove my rented Ford Explorer slowly down Mt. Vernon Street, looking at the huge houses on the hill before I reached the estate belonging to Michael and Margaret Lodge. I would have loved to photograph some of them. Maybe I would make some time during my stay in Boston.

The Lodge house was beautiful, all brick, nearly two hundred years old. The six chimneys reaching proudly into the heavens, the tall windows gazing out like huge eyes forbidding anyone to enter uninvited. Caden had once told me that the estate had cost her great grandfather close to two million dollars nearly a century ago. I could only imagine what the cost would be today.

I whistled through my teeth as I pulled up to the wrought-iron privacy gate, the security box next to my open window.

"Can I help you?" asked a deep voice from the black speaker.

"Laurel Gleason."

"One moment, please." I tapped the steering wheel as I waited, watching as a couple birds took flight out of a near-bye tree. "Come in."

Within seconds the large gate opened, and I pulled forward, marveling at the ornately carved L at the center. The driveway was long and winding, tall trees on either side of the road surrounded by acres of grass. Horses could be seen in the distance, running or grazing. Out buildings could also be seen; one or two were guest houses, others were pool houses or sheds.

Just above the tree-line, the chimneys came into view, the first thing you saw of the magnificent house. Incredible. I thought of the first time Caden had ever taken me home. It had been our sophomore year. My eyes had been the size of saucers, never being so close to anything so splendid.

I pulled up into the circular drive, noting the Ferrari Testarossa that was parked just in front of my Explorer, its candy-apple red paint flawless. Wanting to run my hand down the fine lines of the car, but not daring enough to set off a million alarms, and the attack dogs, I walked to the front door instead. The double doors with beveled glass stood before me. Seeing the door bell, I pushed it, and waited. Didn't have to wait long, however. The right door opened, and Mildred, the maid of twenty years, answered, her gentle, yet greatly aged, face looking up at me.

"Laurel. How lovely to see you again." She smiled, miles of wrinkles lining her face, yet youthful blue eyes sparkled.

"Hello, Mildred. How are you?" I returned the smile, and walked over the threshold as the older woman stepped back and aside.

"Well, can't complain too much, I suppose. I'm sorry mistress Caden has been so ill."

"Yes. It's been very difficult, I'm sure. Where is she?" I looked around the large foyer, the marble floor polished to perfection.

"The library."

"Thank you." I smiled again, and headed down the main hall. Butterflies began beating around my ribcage as I got closer, able to hear pages in a book being turned. With a deep breath, I entered into the large, dark paneled room. A fire was popping softly in the fireplace giving the room a warm glow as the overcast weather outside darkened the day.

Everything was as it had been before. Same furniture, dark, impressive in its ornate carvings, same art work on the walls, and mostly the same books. The collection had grown, though. I looked to the Victorian chair near the fire, its ivory upholstery as elegant as ever.

"Hello, Caden." Blue eyes looked up at me, wide with surprise, then narrowing slightly with nervous caution as pale, thin hands grasped the arms of the chair.

"Hello, Laurel." A slow, unsure smile spread across her thin face. "Thank you for coming." I looked at her, surprised at what I saw. She was much thinner than I remembered, and her hair was much shorter, nearly as short as mine. Just as Michael warned me, her facial muscles had been affected by the pressure from the tumor. The right side drooped a bit, making her normally crooked smile that much more so, also causing her right eye to look heavily lidded.

My heart clenched in my chest, and I leaned against the doorframe. It had been such a long time, and feelings and emotions from the past grabbed me suddenly. All I wanted to do was find some way to leave, to leave that behind me. But, here my past sat, right before me.

Caden's soft voice brought me out of my panic.

"I know I look different." She reached up a hand, and ran her fingers through the short, dark strands on her head. "Got a hair cut." The crooked smile again. I smiled in return. "How are you?"

I shrugged, taking a step into the room, sitting on the hearth, not far from her, my hands folded in my lap. "I'm good. To be honest, it was actually kind of nice to leave the city for a bit, head out here. See you, though I must say, I was pretty surprised when Mike called."

Caden nodded, looking down at the restless fingers in her lap, tapping the cover of the closed book. "I'm sure. I hope I didn't interrupt anything too important?" she looked at me briefly, blue eyes hopeful, before quickly looking away. I shook my head with a smile, reaching out to put my hand on her knee.

"Not at all." To my surprise she laid her hand on top of mine, squeezing my fingers almost painfully.

"Thank you, Laurel." She said, her voice almost urgent. I looked at her, stunned by the intensity.

"Sure." The fingers began to gently stroke my own.

"You look good." She said, looking at my clothing, and up to my eyes, taking in everything. "I hear you've done very well for yourself in California. My brother owns quite a bit of your work."

"Yes. He told me." I looked down at our fingers, surprised that I felt a surge of warmth. I had missed her friendship.

"I'm glad you're here with me."

"Me, too."

<><><>

First day of college! I unloaded my Volks, loaded all my stuff into Marshall-Buchanan dorm, carrying as much of my crap in one trip as I could, up to the third floor, room number 303.

Panting, I dropped my two duffel bags, and one backpack, onto the floor, and dug my key out of my pocket. Just about to insert it into the lock, the door opened, and standing before me was my roommate. I looked her up and down, noting how tall she was. I glanced down to see her light khaki cotton skirt, long, tanned legs coming out the bottom with sandals on her feet. My eyes trailed up to her sleeveless, blue knit top, and necklace with a single diamond hanging down in the hollow of her throat.

She stopped short, surprised to see me.

"I apologize. Didn't know anyone was there." She breathed, her hand on her chest. I shrugged.

"Eh, s'okay. Happens a lot." I smiled, and got a weak smile in return.

"Are you the O.A.?"

"Who?"

"The O.A. Orientation Advisor? Aren't you bringing this girl's luggage to the room?" she pointed at my bags, looking at me curiously. I snorted.

"Hell no! No one offered me bell boy service. This luggage belongs to this girl." I pointed at my chest with a smile. "I'm Laurel Gleason." I extended my hand out to her. She looked at it for a moment, then back to my face.

"Caden Lodge." She took my hand in a dainty shake that belied her height. I couldn't help but chuckle. Oh yeah, this would definitely be an interesting semester.

"Wait, wait, wait! What are you doing? You do not wash reds with darks. Have you never washed clothes before?" I stared at her, incredulous at my roommate of three months' outburst. I had never heard her so much as raise her voice let alone get huffy. I grinned. Wrong thing to do. "What is so funny, Laurel? I'm quite serious."

"Oh." Chuckle. "Sorry. Um, yeah, I've done laundry before. Never separated it into a thousands piles, though." I stared down at the floor, my two piles, whites and darks, that Caden was quickly breaking down further into smaller ones.

"Your clothes will last much longer if you do it this way." She said with a satisfied nod.

"Yeah, but my detergent won't." I glared up at her, she shrugged.

"I'll buy next time."

Café Rolland was in the heart of Boston, the old city all around us. We sat near the window, watching people walk by, most looking right back in at us.

"So, what do you do?" I asked, looking at Caden who picked at her salad. She glanced up at me for a moment, then looked back down as she forked a crouton.

"Not much. It's pretty much a full-time job just to be a mom."

"A mom?" I looked at her, my brows drawn. I knew she had a child, but had never let myself really think about it. "What do you have?" I couldn't help but realize just how sad it was that I had no clue if Caden had had a boy or a girl, nor their name or even age.

"My daughter, Annie, will be ten this year." I stared, stunned.

"Ten?" I blurted. Caden nodded with a small smile.

"It's gone so fast, I know." She sipped from her tea glass, softly setting it back down. I watched the movement, graceful hands with neatly manicured nails. Just as they always were. "She is really a great kid."

"Is she back at your parent's house?" I asked, pushing my near empty plate away. Caden looked down at the few pieces of food I had left, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"What happened to your ravenous appetite, Laurel?" I smiled with a shrug.

"On the backside of twenty. Can't eat like a pig forever." We both smiled knowingly.

"Anyway, Annie is with her father this week."

"With her father? What, I don't understand. Aren't you and Troy still married?" The words tumbled from my mouth sounding bitter. I felt childish as I glanced down at my plate. Caden sat back in her chair, trying to get comfortable, seemingly not affected by the brash tone of my voice. I was grateful.

"Troy and I have separated." I was surprised at the tone, matter-of-fact, almost cold.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. When?"

"Ten months ago. I want a divorce, but he won't grant me one." I looked at her, my head canted to the side.

"Why?" troubled blue eyes looked at me. She bit her lip before she answered.

"My guess is he doesn't think three affairs with three different women, nor the years of mental abuse I've taken from the bastard qualifies for a divorce." We stared at each other for a moment, she almost challenging me to say anything different. I could see the pain in her eyes.

The moment held, and I wondered what to do to break it. I was uncomfortable, the soul-seeking intensity in Caden's eyes was almost too much for me to take. I felt as if she was trying to read every thought in my head.

I cleared my throat, looking out at the street. Gathering my thoughts and myself together, I turned back to my old friend with a smile.

"It was really nice to be back here to the café. I was glad you chose it." Caden returned my smile.

"Yes. I thought it would be a very appropriate place to go, considering."

I smiled with a small nod, looking down at the tablecloth that my fingers had began to caress. I didn't know what to say to her. So much time, and so much water had passed under that bridge, and I didn't know how to get it back.

"Well, do you have a picture of Annie?" I was suddenly very curious to see what the child that Caden and Troy had produced. As it was, I couldn't quite reconcile with the idea that she had a child at all.

"Of course." I watched as she grabbed her purse from the floor under her chair, and began to dig through it, suddenly a renewed spirit filling her.

Caden had changed since we had been in college, but in so many ways she was just the same. Physically, anyway. I didn't know her anymore. I had wondered if I ever really did. She never truly showed me her true self; only what she wanted me to see. That fact had haunted me for years. I had given her my all, and she had given what was appropriate.

I sighed quietly. Maybe at the time that was all she could give.

"Here you are."

I looked at the hand that was extended across the table, a snapshot in her fingers. With a nervous smile, I took the picture, looking down at it. I stared, transfixed. I was looking into the eyes of a much younger Caden. The blue eyes shone with the same brilliant light, the same vigor and life. The girl was much shorter than I imagined her mother was at nine, but the hair, the eyes, the bone structure, were all the same.

I glanced up into expectant eyes. I smiled. "She's absolutely beautiful, Caden. Looks just like her mother." The softest smile spread across her face as she looked into my eyes.

"Thank you, Laurel. I'm anxious for you to meet her." I could see the love for that little girl radiated from her in waves. "She's heard a lot about you."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "What she's heard, is that recent, or has she ever heard my name before now?" Caden stared at me, her face, as usual, unreadable. Part of me regretted asking, but another part of me wondered. Had I just come back into the picture, and Caden's mind because of her illness? Had she ever given me any thought in the decade past? I'd probably never know.

Caden looked down, taking the picture I handed back to her, quietly putting it back into her purse.

"I wanted you to be her god mother. Troy would hear nothing of it." She said softly, her eyes still on her bag. I stared, stunned, then I felt like an ass.

"I'm sorry. I guess coming back here has sort of brought the bitterness of the past back, too." Blue eyes looked at me, understanding evident. She nodded.

"I can see why. I'm sure there's not a whole lot I can say to erase the pain you felt all those years ago back at F&M, so all I can say is that I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you, or keep you out of my life, Laurel."

"Then why did you?"

"I didn't feel I had a choice at the time. I was young, inexperienced, and weak. I know that now. I'm sorry."

I nodded, smiling slightly. I did truly accept her apology, but there were still so many questions I wanted to ask, so many things I wanted to know. Mainly, how could she let go of her dream? Back in those days being a doctor had been what her core had been made of. All she ever wanted to do. I wondered if that driving need was still in there somewhere.

"It's okay. Now with some retrospect, and maturity, I can see how things happen." I began to play with my napkin, fingers twisting it into a rope. Caden followed my movements with her eyes.

"I think you're about to kill it." She grinned. I glanced down at my strangled napkin, and smiled, releasing it, tossing it back to the table. "Thank you." Our eyes met as we shared a smile, and then the moment was gone.

"For what?" Caden shrugged, dark bangs falling down into her eyes. She pushed them aside, and took a deep breath.

"For being who you are. For being here when I had no right to expect you to be. I guess just thank you for so many reasons. For trying to be there so many years ago, even if I wouldn't listen. I did hear you, Laurel. I just couldn't turn away from my responsibilities." She tapped the her purse that still sat in her lap. "Annie means the world to me. I'd be lost without her." She looked at me with beseeching eyes. "Please understand I did what I had to do." I stared at her, moved by her honesty, and quiet pleading for understanding. Finally I nodded.

"I forgave you years ago, Caden." My voice was quiet, my heart in my words. A smile spread across her face, white and perfect, slightly crooked from the affects of the tumor. She said nothing, but instead picked up the ticket on the edge of our table, and stood.

"This one's on me."

Caden had asked me to stay at the house and join her and her family for coffee, but I refused. I couldn't bare to spend any more time with Margaret Lodge than was absolutely necessary. So, I headed back to my hotel room, awaiting the morning when I'd have to head to the hospital in Boston.

Restless, I wondered around town for a bit, walking to release some of my pent-up energy, but to no avail. Back at the hotel I took my sketch pad from the Explorer, and began to draw, my pencil held gingerly in my fingers, the tip barely brushing over the surface of the paper. My eyes were on the lines, but my mind was in the past.

"Okay. I want you to brace yourself. My house is kind of big, and my parents are mostly snobs. So don't be offended."

"Wonderful. Can't wait to meet them." I mumbled as I looked out the window of Caden's midnight black Porsche 911 Turbo. I always felt so strange riding in such a car. The type of thing I could only wish to see on television, certainly never dreaming of my best friend owning one! Especially at eighteen.

The top was down, the wind rushing through our hair as Caden expertly steered the small car through traffic on our way to the Lodge estate.

"The tops of those chimneys over there? That's my house."

The closer we got to the mansion, the bigger my eyes got. I was absolutely shocked, and intimidated by the shear size and wealth of it.

"You grew up here?" I asked, my voice low, almost as if in a respectful whisper. Caden chuckled, glancing over at me as she punched in some numbers into the code box below the speaker. The gate opened a moment later, and we were driving again.

"Born and raised. This is the family home. My grandfather bought the place a long time ago. He was a senator, and made a lot of money."

I nodded dumbly, looking in awe at the land, the stables, then the house. Caden pulled the Porsche into the driveway, and I sat, frozen to my seat, looking up at the magnificent house. Caden, who had opened her car door, looked over at me.

"You coming?" I looked at her, and she smiled. "It's okay. Come on." With a deep breath, I opened my door, and grabbed my overnight bag, followed her inside. The double doors we passed through arched, dark wood with elegant etched glass. Once inside I couldn't help but look around, my mouth hanging open. The floor of the foyer was made of marble, the mid-day sun streaming in from the stained glass windows above the front doors shone on it, blue, red and green. Beautifully carved, expensive furniture lined the wall, a large wall mirror above the small table that held a crystal vase of roses.

"Those are from my mother's prized gardens." Caden explained. I reached out, lightly touching the soft, delicate petal of one. They were beautiful, full, and bright. Some of the most incredible roses I'd ever seen.

Off to the right was a door, stained a dark wood like the front doors, and beyond looked to be a room with some expensive-looking couches and a baby grand piano, and one of the fireplaces. Caden must have seen my confusion.

"That's a sitting room." I looked at her as if she'd grown another head. What the hell was a sitting room? "When my parents have guests, that's where they go."

"Ah."

To the left of the front door was an archway, and beyond what looked to be a den or living room, much like the sitting room, but looked less formal. Just ahead was a beautiful staircase that seemed to wrap around the entire room. I looked on in awe, the dark, carved wood banister and hand rail that led to the second floor, then continued on to the third.

"Wow." I breathed.

An older woman had opened the door for us, and to my surprise, hugged Caden.

"Hello, miss. So good to see you." She said, her smile wide and warm. She looked to me, extending a similar smile.

"Mildred, this is my friend from school, Laurel Gleason. Laurel, Mildred. She's been here longer than I have." Caden laughed as she was lightly tapped on the arm by the woman.

"Oh, that is not true. But nearly so." The older woman said, gently patting her graying hair that was pulled back into a net bun. She wore a pressed uniform dress that was dark blue, the white collar starched and neatly buttoned.

"Nice to meet you." I said, wondering if these people actually had servants. Never in my life had I seen anything like it except in the movies.

"Are mother and father home?" Caden asked, handing Mildred her purse and coat, and nodding for me to give the maid my coat also.

"Well, your father is out, but I believe your mother is in the kitchen with Antonio."

"Great. Thank you." Mildred nodded and smiled at me as we headed toward the hall straight ahead. As we walked, I looked around at the intricate molding near the unbelievably tall ceilings, and the rich wood work around the doorframes and baseboards. The art work on the walls was obviously originals, and I wanted to stop so badly and examine each one, but kept up with Caden's long strides around the main floor, behind the massive staircase, and into a kitchen that I think my house in Southie would easily fit inside of.

Standing near the large, stainless steel refrigerator was a woman with medium length, medium brown hair, slim figure, not as tall as Caden, but taller than me, talking to a good-looking man with dark hair, and black eyes.

"Well, I'd say you're doing just fine, Antonio. After all, you do use your knife well." The woman said, her voice low and teasing. I watched the two interact, finding it interesting. The body language was close and flirtatious, but I didn't want to make any assumptions. Maybe that's how Caden's mother acted with everyone. Yeah, right.

"Mother." I could hear the irritation in my friend's voice. Margaret Lodge quickly turned, wiping the smile off her face quickly. The cook turned back to his cutting board and his vegetables.

"Darling!' Margaret walked over to her daughter, her silky clothing blowing out around her body, making her seem to float with her graceful movements. "How are you, love?" she took her daughter's face between heavily ringed fingers, bringing her in for a kiss upon both cheeks. Caden looked miserable and slightly embarrassed. Mrs. Lodge stepped back from her, taking a hand in both of hers, lifting Caden's long arms out to either side of her body, and looked her over. Caden looked good in a pair of pressed chinos, a blue satin blouse, and black leather boots. "You look marvelous, my love." She looked her over again, carefully shaped brows drew. "However, you are thin, love. You really must eat better. Your clothes are hanging off of you. They're not cheap, you know. We bought them to fit you, Caden."

"Thank you, mother. You look beautiful, too." Caden looked down at herself. "I know. I've just been so busy, and have no time. I'll try and eat better. Mother, this is my friend and roommate I told you about, Laurel Gleason. Laurel, my mother, Margaret Lodge."

I smiled shyly, extending my hand to her. The woman looked me over, paying special attention to my clothing. I wondered if the sweater Caden had loaned me would pass the test. But then, I figured my cheap jeans would spoil the image that I had any idea or clue about dress. Finally she took my hand, hers cold and impersonal.

"Nice to meet you, Laurel. Where are you from, dear?"

"South Boston."

"Oh? Which part?"

"So, mom. What's for dinner? We're starving."

I looked to Caden who looked right back at me. Relieved, I smiled slightly at her, then turned my attention to Antonio who Margaret seemed to be completely fine giving her attention to.

"Well, this is our new chef, Antonio. He's wonderful."

"I'm sure he is." Caden muttered. I swallowed a chuckle.

"Antonio, say hello to my daughter Caden and her little friend, Laurel."

The young chef turned around to face us, wiping his large hands on the apron her wore. He smiled at us, dimples winking from either side of his full-lipped mouth.

"A pleasure." He said, his voice deep, accent thick. His dark eyes were sexy, and managed to wonder to Margaret, and often. "It's been a wondrous experience to work for your mother. She is a woman of impeccable taste." He smiled broadly at her, then at us. Personally I wanted to puke, but Caden seemed a bit miffed.

"Nice to meet you, Antonio." She said, then turned away from him, back to her mother. "Where is father, mother?" I could see Caden's jaw muscle working as she tried to keep her emotions under control.

"Oh, he had a business trip in Vancouver. He should be back in the morning." Margaret sighed, and began walking toward the hall. "Oh, dinner is set for seven-thirty. I'm having a few friends over, so you two can entertain yourselves, I'm sure."

"Mother, you knew I was coming home this weekend with Laurel." Her mother turned in the doorway.

"Yes,"

"Well, why would you plan something?"

"Darling, my friends always come over the first Friday of the month for dinner. You know that. Perhaps you should have planned your trip for a Saturday instead." With the kiss that Margaret had blown to her daughter still hanging in the air, and a whoosh of silk, Margaret Lodge was gone.

The sun was just beginning to rise above the tree-line, it's intense, early morning rays shining through the thin strip between the closed curtains of my hotel room window. I squinted, raising a hand to cover my eyes. With a groan I barely opened one, just to close it again.

"God, it's too early for this." I jumped then as the bedside alarms blared to life, the nerve rattling buzz bouncing around in my head. With the slam of my palm, the clock went silent. Five-fifteen in the morning. No way. Caden's surgery was set for seven, and she asked me to be there when she went in. So, I forced myself to sit up and face the day.

The spray from the shower was warm as I leaned against the cool tile wall, a groan falling from my lips. My internal clock was completely confused. San Diego time, it was just after three in the morning. Definitely for the birds. But, alas; Caden was worth it. I knew she was scared, and I wanted to be there for her. I was also looking forward to seeing the Gooper again.

I watched Caden, her shoulders drooped, her demeanor changed. She sat on her bed, the antique four-poster with the beautiful ivory-colored silk canopy. Her room was enormous, her own bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub in the corner separate from the full-size shower. Huge windows lined one wall filling the room with light and warmth from the late afternoon sun. I stood at the center of the room, not sure what to do, or where to go.

After leaving the kitchen, we had headed straight up the stairs to the third floor, bypassing the rest of the tour. I wasn't sure what exactly she was bothered by the most. It wasn't long before I found out.

Caden sighed quietly, then stood, walking over to the massive armoire, looking into the mirrored doors, turning this way and that. Finally she looked back at me.

"Do I look too thin to you, Laurel?" I looked at her body, tall and well proportioned. I'd never really given it much thought, but as I looked at her I realized just how beautiful she really was. Next thing I know, I'm staring. "Laurel?" I blinked rapidly, looking like I'd just been hit.

"Oh, um, no. I don't really, um, think you're too thin." I turned away, feeling completely stupid. "Actually, um, I think you look really good. Really, um, pretty." I looked down at the white carpet, my fingers twisting around each other until one of the joints cracked, making me wince.

Caden looked at me, her face softening. "Really?" she asked, her voice almost full of wonder. What, didn't people tell her that on a regular basis?

"Well, yeah."

"That is so sweet." I felt myself blushing from the roots of my hair down to the soles of my Reeboks.

"Um, sure." I rocked slightly on my heels, looking away.

"Do you think my mother is fucking the chef?"

My head shot up, my eyes wide. I couldn't stop the smile of surprise from spreading across my face. "What?"

"I think she is. It wouldn't be the first time." Caden turned back to the armoire, opening it up to reveal an entire stock of clothing. Probably more in that piece of furniture than I owned at all.

"Well, to be honest, Caden, I'm not real sure on that one. I guess it's possible." That had been my first thought, but I just didn't feel the need to stomp all over the poor girl's mother. Personally just on my first impression of the woman, I did not like her one bit. An impression that unfortunately would not go away.

As the night wore on, Caden and I sat cross-legged on her massive king-sized bed, and talked. We talked about everything and nothing; parents, brothers, and school. But, mostly we talked about our dreams.

Caden laid back on the bad, stretching her long legs out, crossing them at the ankles, and stared up at the underside of her canopy.

"I've wanted to be a doctor ever since I can remember, Laurel. It's all I want to do." She turned to look at me. I could see the love in her eyes, the hope and ambition. "My father wants me to follow in his footsteps, telling me that I have a mind like his, and would do wonderful in the business world. But I don't want to do that. I don't give a damn about all this." She raised her hand, indicating the room, and all the obvious money behind it.

"Well, going into medicine can be pretty lucrative." I said, running my hand over the soft down comforter.

"Yeah," Caden shrugged. "But that's not the point. I mean, hell, I'd be willing to go practice in some tiny little town somewhere, just a blurb on a very detailed map."

"My friend, Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman."

"Exactly!" I saw the spark light in those blue eyes, and my spirits began to soar. I loved nothing more than for the often emotionless Caden to be filled with fire about something. Everything just seemed to not matter to her, or she refused to show that it did. That bothered me. "Don't you see, Laurel? Being a doctor is as much about passion, devotion, and understanding than anything else. It makes me so sad that most don't see it that way, or those that do in the beginning, lose it. The all mighty dollar."

As my friend began to really get into the groove, I watched her, her face flushed, her hands moving wildly as she explained all the intricate little details of medicine, and where she wanted to study it, and under whom. I couldn't help but smile. What a wonderful sight to see. I would love for someone so dedicated to their dream to be my doctor.

"You'll make an incredible doctor someday, Caden." She stopped mid-lecture and looked at me, her eyes still open wide, hands wrapped around the handle on her armoire. A slow smile spread, like a sunrise, lightening up her face.

"Thank you, Laurel. That means a lot." I smiled with a nod. I believed it, and wanted her to believe it.

I drove around the hospital parking lot, unbelievably busy even at the ridiculous hour in the morning that I had to be there. Finally spotting a Mercedes that was pulling out, I pushed on the gas, trying to get three rows over before anyone else grabbed it.

I pulled the brake, and sat for a moment, staring out the windshield of the Explorer, the massive building just at the end of the lot. Caden was already there, her family by her side, I imagined. I grabbed the book I'd brought to read, and headed out into the fresh morning air the was promising a beautiful day. I hoped that was a good omen for Caden.

Caden and I held eye contact across her massive room, the soft smile still planted firmly on her face when a knock sounded on the door.

"Come in." she called out, turning back to the armoire, pulling out a pair of flannel pants. She turned to me, "Want a pair to lounge around in? They're really comfortable."

I looked at what she held in her hand, never seeing flannel pants before. "Um, sure."

The bedroom door opened, and a tall, well-built guy walked in.

"Michael!" Caden exclaimed, running into awaiting arms. "My god! Mother didn't tell me you were coming home this weekend."

"Not a surprise now, is it?" the hug was large and strong. Finally Caden pulled away and turned to me, her hand still on his shoulder.

"Laurel, this is my brother, Michael Cooper Lodge."

My brows drew, not hearing her completely. "Gooper?" Michael chuckled, Caden looked at my like I'd lost my mind.

"No. Cooper." She said again, emphasizing the c sound. Feeling like a complete idiot, I blushed furiously, which made me feel even more stupid.

"Oh. Sorry. Hello, Michael Cooper Lodge. I'm Laurel Michelle Gleason." I stepped forward, my hand stretched toward him. He was a good-looking guy, tall like his sister, but his frame was thin like their mother. His hair was dark like Caden's, but his eyes were a strange green/gray mixture. He wore pressed khakis, and a sweater. He was clean cut, and looked like that all-American college student.

"Nice to meet you, Laurel. I'm Michael, or Gooper. Whichever you prefer." His smile was warm and inviting. Caden watched us, her eyes darting back and forth from one to the other. If I didn't know better, I'd think the wheels were turning in there. Oh, goodie. "Well, I'll leave you ladies for now. Caden, I'd like to have dinner with you and Laurel tonight, if you don't mind?" he looked from one to the other, smiling and winking at me before he turned his full attention to his sister.

"Oh, yes. Definitely. We can meet you in the non-formal in a bit if you want?"

"See you there."

My hiking boots made a loud thud on the highly polished floor as I made my way to the third floor. I carried a bouquet of fresh flowers in one hand, my novel in the other. Finally I found where I needed to be, and walked inside. The room was pretty stark of any color or adornments, save for a couple of plants and vases of flowers that had obviously been sent in for Caden. The narrow hospital bed was to the right, and a couple of uncomfortable-looking chairs next to the bed. I looked around to see who had already shown.

From the back she looked basically as she had so many years ago. Her brown hair was the exact same color, yet cut a bit shorter. She was about the same size. I figured in my head how old Margaret Lodge would be now, and figured in her mid-fifties somewhere. She stood next to the bed, arms crossed over her chest, which if I wasn't mistaken, seemed to have gotten larger.

Chuckling to myself, I noticed Michael Lodge Sr. was nowhere to be seen. It looked like it would just be Margaret and myself.

Caden laid in the bed, tubes already hooked into her, and to my shock, her entire head was shaved. I stared, unable to stop. Something I never thought I'd see. She wore a hospital gown, and looked very tired. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, which were half-hooded.

Not sure what to do, I walked into the room further, clearing my throat. Caden looked beyond her mother, and smiled when she saw me.

"Laurel." She said, her voice weak. She reached out an I.V. laden hand to me, which I nervously took as I reached the bed. Margaret stepped away from me, looking over at me, her face hard, expressionless.

"Good morning, Caden." I had absolutely no idea what to say to her. I was nervous for her surgery, yet knew it was the best thing. I was nervous to be there, and nervous as hell to be in the same room with that horrible woman who continued to look me and up and down, as if she were sizing me up for something. Gathering my courage, and swallowing the sour lump in my throat, I turned to Mrs. Lodge. "Hello. How are you? It's been a long time."

"Indeed. I'm doing well. And yourself? I understand you've quite the picture-taking business."

I stared at Margaret, not sure if what she said was meant to be a biting remark, or if it was just simply conversation. You never could tell with her, so I decided to play along.

"Yes. I'm up in San Diego, now. It's gone quite well. I enjoy it."

"That's good. One should do what one enjoys."

"Yes one should."

Nope. Still didn't like her.

"Laurel!" I turned in time to be engulfed in a monster hug, my eyes feeling like they were going to pop out of their sockets. Once finally put back down on the ground, I looked up into the handsome face of Michael Jr. A wide smile spread across my face.

"Hey, Gooper!" I lightly punched him in the arm, and got smacked in return. Rubbing my sore shoulder, I grinned up at him. "Good to see you."

"You too, squirt. You look great." He eyed me up and down, finally settling on my eyes.

"I hear you got married. Finally." We both chuckled. "That's wonderful. Congratulations."

"Thank you, thank you. Felicia is great. It took her five long years to convince me I needed to marry her, but I'm glad she did. We're expecting our first in November." A warm feeling coursed through me, followed by slight jealousy. Why is it that so many people in the world could find love and happiness, and so many others of us just aren't that lucky. Then I looked over at Caden, and felt like an ass for even thinking that. After all she'd been through with Troy, and now the brain tumor, at least I had my health. What good is love without it?

"How is the teaching going, Michael?" Caden asked weakly from behind us. Mike turned around, and walked to the bed.

"Hey, you. How are you, sweetie." He asked, kissing her lightly on the forehead. Caden smiled.

"I'm alright. Just glad this will be over with soon. Where is Felicia?"

"She's in class. She said she's sorry she couldn't be here this morning, but plans to be here when you wake up." Caden smiled, gently patting the side of her brother's face.

"Thanks, Mikey."

Caden turned back to me, beckoning me with her finger. I walked over to her, sitting in the chair next to her. I heard Margaret quickly moving out of the way with an irritated sigh.

"Hey, kid." I said, taking her hand in mine, covering it with my own. "How are you? When do you go in?"

"They should be here for me any minute. They gave me something to relax me, and I'm getting ever so tired." She yawned, shutting her eyes tight, then opened them, revealing those incredible blues to me once more. "Thank you so much for coming all this way for me. For this. You have no idea how much it means to me, Laurel."

"You inviting me here means a lot, too. I'm glad to be here for you. And just think," I ran my hand over the top of her newly shaved head. "The Sinéad O'Connor look is in, and you'll keep much cooler this summer."

"Ha, ha. You are quite the comic, aren't you?" I smiled, surprising myself by leaning down and giving her a small kiss on her forehead. As I stood back up, Caden's eyes were on mine, hers filled with unshed tears.

"I'm scared, Laurel." She whispered. I looked into the watery pools of blue, and brought a hand up, gently stroking the side of her face. I was amazed as, yet again, her usual calm and cool demeanor opened up to reveal the vulnerable soul beneath. So beautiful in its purity. Just like a child.

"Everything will be fine. You'll get through this, and be so much more stronger for it. We'll all be here when you get out."

"Will you stay?" she asked, her voice shaky as she tried to keep her emotions under control. I nodded.

"Of course." Caden smiled, reaching up to take my hand from her face, squeezing my fingers. Just as quickly as it had come, the openness was gone. She sniffled once, and her eyes began to clear.

"Mother?" I stood up, and stepped back, expecting her to call Margaret over to her bedside for her time with Caden. Mrs. Lodge, who had seated herself in the other chair, reading a magazine looked up over the pages, reading glasses perched on her nose. "Where is Annie? Isn't Troy bringing her by this morning before I go in?"

"Well, he told me it was all dependant on if the nanny gets there on time. He had a meeting early today."

"Why don't you go get her?" Michael said, brows drawn in a deep furrow. Margaret glared at her son.

"I'm not leaving here." She stated, slamming the magazine shut, tossing it to the floor. I watched on in surprise, looking from one to the other. "Besides, gas prices are so high right now,-"

"Mother!" Michael took a step toward his mother, but stopped when Caden put her hand out, touching his arm. I could see the muscles in his jaw working.

"Michael, it's okay. I can see her later." She said weakly.

"I can go get her, if you tell me where to go." I said, looking all around. Caden should see her daughter, and Annie certainly had a right to see her mother just in case, well, in case anything went wrong.

"You?" Margaret nearly spat.

"Well, I figure family should be here. I mean, I can run and get her, and try and be back before Caden goes in," my voice trailed off as I met three pairs of eyes staring at me.

"I can go." Michael volunteered. "Annie knows me." He stared hard at his mother, then turned toward me. "Why not come with me? The company would be nice."

I looked to my friend, it was her surgery, and I would do whatever she wanted. She nodded, smiling.

"Just please hurry." She said. I walked over to the bed, kissed her on the forehead again, and held her hand.

"Good luck, Caden. Everything will be fine."

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