#bangtail imagines

[mae-gi-writes]

It's (Just So) Awkward | jungkook (bts) - one

“No way. We’re too different and he’s so—so black and white. A straight-up yes-or-no kind of guy. And I’m not.”

Genre: nerd! Jungkook x outspoken! Reader, university! Au, idiots to lovers au, kim changbin cameo (skz)

A/N: any mention of disorders/medical conditions are fictional and I do not own Jeon jungkook. I only own the plot. If you are sensitive to content that talks about psychological disorders, i would advise you to read at your own risk. Please do enjoy !!

Comment your username to join the taglist! 💕😊

Part One | Next >>>

———

“And I scream ‘for whatever it’s worth, I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?” — Cruel Summer, Taylor Swift

———

You and Jeon Jungkook have known each other for years.

You know him like the back of your hand, not because you wanted to, but because you were obliged to, with the god-awful amount of time that you spent together.

Everything started back in art class. You had been fifteen at the time and had enrolled in the Visual Arts IGCSE course, as did he. There were only five students in the class, which was the main reason as to how you got to know your classmates that well, considering that these were the sorts of people that you wouldn’t normally hang out with on a daily basis.

You’d taken a seat next to Jungkook on that very first day of class, your colored markers in one hand and your sketchbook in the other, when he’d first decided to pick on the state of your shirt.

“Your shirt is crumpled,” he’d stated matter-of-factly, as though he didn’t have any filter, as though he didn’t care that it might affect your feelings. Good for him that you weren’t the type of person to take things to heart.

You merely straightened and looked at him, “thanks for the observation.”

“Don’t you iron your shirts?”

“Uhm no, I forgot,” you eyed his very organized desk, noticed the straight angles of his own sketchbook perpendicularly placed with his ruler. His pens stacked at its side, parallel to the paper, and his hands poised onto the fresh page.

Your gaze then traveled up to his clean, crisp shirt, hair parted to the side and glasses perched on his nose.

Your eyebrows raised in curiosity as he said, “coming to school with a crumpled up shirt just shows how disorganized you are. Or maybe you didn’t have enough time. Then that’s time-management skills that you lack.”

“Thanks, I’ll take that into consideration,” you’d replied sarcastically.

And from there, you had learnt to know who Jeon Jungkook really was.

Undeniably, he had an amazing gift for art which no one could argue with, so all his backhanded comments were, over time, either ignored or playfully used as insults to tease him back. He was a funny guy — in the sense that he barely had any filter or sense of what was socially accepted to talk about — but you couldn’t say he hadn’t grown on you over the past years and funnily enough, you both ended up in the same university course as Visual Arts major.

“You again?” You’d groaned on the first day of lecture upon noticing his tall, dark frame behind round spectacles. Even out of high school, he still wore a shirt -- this one pale blue -- tucked into sable pants, hair combed back into that side part that now sportrd a few bangs, and his glasses.

He grinned at you from his seat, “hello, Y/N.”

“Why are you here?” You dramatically fell into your seat, swiveled towards him with an exasperated sigh as your chin fell into your hand.

“Because I applied for Visual Arts and got in.”

“Well yeah I knew that much,” you rolled your eyes, “but I thought you wanted to be an architect. Isn’t that what you said before graduation?”

“You remember?” His grin widened, “that’s nice of you—“

“Not on purpose, you dweeb. Now tell me why you’re here instead of bugging someone else in architecture 101.”

“I am in architecture,” he lifted his shoulder in a shrug, “but my course asks for an art prerequisite. They said I couldn’t use my high school grades to give me my transfer credits because art wasn’t my main subject.”

“That’s bullshit. Your art was the best out of all of us.”

“Apparently it wasn’t good enough for them.”

You tilted your head at him, “so you’re telling me I have to suffer through this with you, again? Didn’t I do enough of that in high school?”

“Technically, you’re the one who came to sit next to me.”

“You got a point. Maybe I should move.”

But you didn’t. Not wanting to admit it, you were actually grateful knowing that Jungkook was a familiar element amidst all this new environment. Not that you’d ever tell him that though, knowing he’d take full advantage of it.

That didn’t stop you from complaining about it with your mother every time you saw her appear on your phone screen. She would only laugh and tease you about it, saying that out of all universities, Jeon Jungkook had chosen the one you had applied to. Surely, according to her, she thought it was fate.

“It’s not fate,” you’d grumbled into your pillow, “how can it be fate? He just likes to torture me.”

“He’s not that bad Y/N,” your mother chided, “and you know how he is. His mother said so at the exhibition, remember?”

Yes, you had remembered how his mother had apologized following Jungkook’s harsh criticism of your projects. How could you forget? It had been on the final exhibition evening where all students were decked in black and white to follow the theme of the night, and as part of your final exhibition, you’d had to criticize and analyze your classmates’ pieces with your teacher as mediator. And when Jungkook had been asked to voice his thoughts about your work, he had been void of kindness:

“It doesn’t seem genuine.”

“It lacks of technique.”

“You could’ve used more depth.”

“I don’t see the connection between the artist and the audience.”

Not wanting to cry in front of the entire class had you running to the bathroom as tears streamed down your face, which caused his mother to follow you while trying to explain her son’s horrible behaviour.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. You know he doesn’t mean it that way, not really—“

“Oh then, in what way does he mean it then?” You’d sniffled into your tissue, hating how red your eyes looked in the mirror, “because to me that sounded downright condescending and honestly, I thought better of him—“

“He’s different, Y/N.”

“Different?” You pause, “what do you mean…different?”

That was when she explained about Social Cues Disorder, also known as SCD, which was placed on the Asperger’s spectrum despite being slightly different from the said diagnostic. And as she spoke, it became clear why Jungkook didn’t have any social barriers into speaking his mind even when it might hurt people or be taken the wrong way. The thing was, he didn’t know.

Nevertheless, it took you a few days to recover from his personal attack. You were surprised when Jungkook came up to you a few days after the exhibition to offer you an apology.

“My mother said she told you about SCD,” he spoke as though they were talking about the weather when to you, it was slightly difficult to handle such a topic when you had no idea whether he’d take it right or wrong, “she also said I need to apologize because I was very harsh on you during the exhibition.”

You swallowed thickly, the sting of tears building in your eyes as the memory resurfaced, “yes. You were.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied without missing a beat, “I didn’t know it would hurt your feelings. According to the doctors, I don’t know how to understand people’s emotions or react to people, or say the right thing. So I’m sorry, because I’m sure I might do it again.”

You looked at him for a long moment, judging the weight of his words. Then, you sighed, “that’s fine, Jungkook. Thanks.”

If you removed his lack of total empathy, Jungkook was admittedly kind of fun to be around. He had the most hilariou responses to everything, which you learnt the more you sat next to him in class.

"Color blindness is an eyesight problem," he said one day when you told him that you believed color blindness to be some sort of supernatural gift.

"Well how do you know that the colors you see are the real ones?" You lean over your desk, pen in hand as the soft scratches of pencil to paper filled the room, "maybe we're the ones who are colour blind."

"That is scientifically incorrect."

"Who said so?"

He looked at you as if you were an idiot, "it was scientifically proven, Y/N. I don't think your argument is valid."

"Okay, so let's take schizophrenia for example," you quickly fired back, "people say that those with this disorder hallucinate and see things that aren't there. But maybe, wait--hear me out," you added when Jungkook started shaking his head, "maybe these people actually see things that we don't."

Jungkook's eyebrow rose in what looked to be half-amusement, "I'm not sure that's a valid point. Also, it's medically incorrect to be sharing false information about psychological disorders."

"Not everything is quantifiable, you know."

"Still, what you're saying is that these people have superpowers that don't exist."

"Exactly."

"Sounds like some kind of marvel action movie to me."

Of course he would say something like that. What were you expecting more? With time, you came to understand the phenomenon that was Jeon Jungkook, with his weird quirks and curious way of thinking. You secretly wondered whether he knew how easily people got triggered by his responses, or whether he just went through life with his own kind of colorblindness.

You got rewarded with a first-hand situation between him and another classmate of yours a few days later, going by the name of Kim Changbin.

It was in the middle of mid-term and since deadlines were comig up soon, the printmaking studio was crammed with students trying to finish up their portfolio projects in time. You would normally give Jungkook a hand with the technical materials and tools needed and after having set up his screen, was busy arranging your own set of colours when a voice pierced through the room in anger.

"What the fuck, Jeon?!" Your head swivelled to see Changbin at the station that Jungkook had been standing at seconds prior, looking quite murderous with his damaged screen in hand. Facing him was Jungkook, a palette knife held in mid-air, "what's wrong with you, flaunting that thing around when we all have screens?!"

"I'm sorry," the words came out straight away from Jungkook's mouth, "It wasn't my intention. I'll make sure to work on it--"

"Work on it?" Changbin's nostrils flared. He stepped towards the taller man, "this took me fucking weeks to perfect. And what? You're going to work on it?" He took another step closer, causing Jungkook to lean back, " How the fuck am I supposed to get my artwork back huh?"

"I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention," Jungkook parroted again with eyes glassy as though he didn't know what to say, "I'll make sure to wo--"

"Yeah I heard you the first time!" Changbin hollered, index stabbing at his chest, "this artwork is my scholarship ticket and you fucking ruined it!"

"Hey hey," you quickly stepped in-between the two men, hand latching onto Changbin's shoulder, "he said he was sorry okay? Let's just calm down and--"

"Move out, Y/N, this is none of your fucking business," Changbin pushed you away and you stumbled. He took this chance to lunge for Jungkook's chest and the latter whimpered, yelping and handa scrabbling to push Changbin away, "you gonna take responsibility, dumbass?--"

"I'm sorry it wasn't my intention--"

"You fucking retard you can't even --"

"--make sure to work on--"

"Shut up!" And before he knew it, Jungkook yelped and pushed Changbin away.

"Changbin!"

"Jungkook!"

Changbin fell, crashed straight into a table with such force it split down the middle. For a minute, he lay there motionless, the entire class rendered silent.

And in the middle of it all, a panicked Jungkook holding his hands over his ears.

He crouched down as people moved towards Changbin concern and you took this chance to go to your friend, hearing him mutter the exact same phrase over and over again with a blank look in his eyes.

"Jungkook," your words were quiet as your hand wrapped around his shoulder tentatively, "hey, you alright bud? Let's get you out of here, okay?"

But as if he just realized you were his only safe anchor, the young man was quick to wrap his arms around your middle before he buried his head into your chest.

Your cheeks flamed, but you went to caress the back of his head, knowing that this was not a normal situation. He needed you.

"Jungkook?" You whispered and tried ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat, "you okay?"

"Just--please. Don't move."

Few words with so much power. You couldn't help but crumble and hold him closer if that was possible, hoping that the consequences that would follow would hopefully be called an accident.

This was the first time you'd seen Jungkook, as who he really was. You could have walked away , you had that choice, if you wanted to.

But you didn't.

---

"Hey."

Changbin's angry eyes fluttered up to yours from the nurse's bed. He'd been admitted to the campus clinic for an overnight watch in case something went wrong with his back. Due to the force of his fall, he now sported bruises all along his spine and you knew without doubt he'd use it as blackmail against Jungkook even if the wounds were superficial.

"What do you want?" He growled.

From his narrow-eyed stare, it was clear that he was not enjoying his current predicament; that being pinned down to a bed.

"How are you feeling?" You moved a little closer and tried not to flinch under his hard gaze, "I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Well you got your answer," he snapped, "now if you don't have anytbing else to say, get lost."

"I'm sorry. Jungkook--he's a bit socially awkward and I know you took a lot of time to finish this--"

"That's not your job, is it?" He chuckled emptily, "why are you apologizing on his behalf?"

"Because I know that's what he wants to say, but he's not in a state to say it right now," you took another step closer until you were at his bedside, "so before you go and think that he's just a loser, I wanted to clarify it with you."

"What are you, his mom or something?"

"We're friends, Changbin."

He shook his head, looking amused and you were glad he didn't seem to be so angry now that you exchanged more than two words with him, "and how exactly, did you become friends?"

"Why?"

"You don't seem the type to be friends with that kind of geek, apologies for the insult," he said with a raised brow, "so tell me. How are you friends? Is it by duty?"

"No. He's...it just happened," you tried to stammer through an explanation, though he had a point. How had you become friends? "In any case, does that even matter?"

That was when Changbin grinned at you, "wanna be my friend?"

You stared blankly at him, "what?"

"You wanna be my friend and help me out with my artwork?"

Considering that he would probably combust and drag you along with him if you failed to agree, you were quick to abide by his suggestion, setting up a meeting at the studio a few days later when he'd be safe and sound from the nurse.

You even prepared the materials in advance, setting up all the colours and preparing the screen so that Changbin wouldn't have to wait for it to dry to expose his design.

Your phone vibrated and you quickly pulled it out, frowning when Jungkook's name flashed across the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hello Y/N. Where are you?"

"Uh, at school. Why?"

"I bought chocolate donuts."

Your heart melted slightly, "I'm in the art lab."

Which was where Jungkook found you a few minutes later as he walked through the door, donuts in hand and looking as geeky as ever with a crisp white shirt tucked into light jeans.

"Why are you here?" He frowned, "You're already done with your artwork."

Changbin walked in from the exposure room right at that very instant, his face turning sour as soon as he caught sight of the dark-haired man, "what the fuck are you doing here?" He growled.

"I'm here to give some donuts to--"

"To you!" You grabbed the donut box from Jungkook before thrusting it in Changbin's face, "hos way of saying sorry about your broken screen."

"Actually, these donuts were for yo--"

"He just feels so bad about you having to do your artwork all over again, right Jungkook?" You throw him a pointed look, which caused Jungkook's brows to furrow in even more confusion as Changbin's dark eyes flickered between the two of you, not quite sure what to make of the situation.

It took a moment for Jungkook to mutter out a, "sure."

"I'd feel a whole lot better if you got out of my face," Changbin scowled at him then, and you quickly scurried in front of your friend with hands held up in a defensive manner.

Jungkook turned to you, "do you have to help him, Y/N? He doesn't seem to be very friendly to me--"

"You little shi--"

"Alright alright boys!” You flailed your arms around wildly in hopes that would deter any kind of fight, “I told you, Jungkook doesn’t know how to show his affection and gratefulness to other people. Don’t take it badly, Changbin, let’s just— “

“Statistically speaking, you shouldn’t hang out with people with violent tendencies. It’s dangerous,” Jungkook stated bluntly.

You threw him the angriest glare you could muster, causing the said man’s eyes to dart away. He couldn’t recognize social cues, but he did know for a fact what your angry face looked like. So he didn't fight when you pushed him out of the door while excusing yourself with Changbin and it was only when you were safely away from prying ears that you tried talking some sense into your friend.

"Don't mess with this, okay? I got it." You said in what you hoped was a convincing tone, "just go home and finish your homework. We have that art history essay due tomorrow."

Jungkook stared you down behind his glasses, "but Changbin is--"

"No it's fine, just go home. Everything will be fine if you go home."

"What if he hits you?"

"He won't."

"You will call me if he does?"

"Yes. I promise I will."

That seemed to satisfy Jungkook and you quickly propelled him out of the building before ushering back inside the lab just in time to catch Changbin doing his screenprint.

"Got rid of that loser yet?" His smirk was infuriating. It made you want to slap it off his face.

"Shut up and let me help you," you responded, rolling your eyes as you went to assist him. In truth, you were just secretly glad they didn't tear each other's throats out.

Not everyone understood Jungkook, and while that was fine, you just felt as though you were responsible for protecting him.

It was almost midnight when you finished cleaning up the studio and packed up all the tools and materials, that was when Changbin suggested you get something to eat. Deciding that your stomach was a priority, you agreed and settled at one of the small cheap restaurants that sold hot noodle soup, one of the rare finds open 24/7.

"Why're you friends with that guy?"

You glanced up from your soup, "you asked me that before, Changbin."

He took a sip of his, other hand fumbling with his chopsticks to gather some noodles, “and I’m asking you again. Why are you friends?” He took a bite of his noodles and grumbled appreciatively, “you like him or something?”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard coming out of your mouth,” you snorted as you slurped your noodles and chewed on the warmth that seeped into your chest. Noodles always tasted better in cold weather.

“Well he likes you.”

You almost choked on your noodles, “wha— where are you getting all this false information.”

“It’s written all over his face, Y/N,” Changbin rolled his eyes, “he wouldn’t be bringing you donuts if that were the case.”

“You’re wrong. He’s just kind. He always was,” the thought of you and Jungkook being together suddenly flashed before your eyes and heat flushed through your cheeks at the thought. He was your friend, he was the closest thing to home that you had now that you were in university, so it was just natural for you to gravitate towards the familiar.

“Bullshit. You don’t see the way he looks at you.”

“He doesn’t look at me like anything.”

Changbin merely chuckled, shaking his head before finishing his soup in silence. You were glad that he dropped it, knowing full well that you wouldn’t have been able to take it if he’d continuously found arguments to support his hypothesis. Jungkook couldn’t like you…could he? He was…odd and not the kind of man to look for things like relationships.

Then again, you’d never actually asked Jungkook how he felt about girls. Or relationships for that matter.

Which was why you had planned to corner him after your English lecture, rushing to the end of the corridor where you knew Jungkook had his design class with your bag barely closed and books clutched to your chest, only to find the said man wrapped up in an animated conversation with a stranger you’d never seen before.

The girl was beautiful. That was a given, with long glossy curls that fell to her waist and dyed light blonde, giving her the appearance of a fairy. She was wearing a pastel blue coat decked with white pants and boots to match, the perfect fashion icon for many, slightly smaller than you were so that her head had to tilt back every time she spoke to him.

You were about to swivel around — since they seemed to be in deep discussion — when Jungkook spotted you. His brown eyes lit up from behind his spectacles (it was kinda cute) and he grinned, dimple showing.

“Y/N,” he called your name and you had no other choice than to walk over, flashing him a weak smile, “this is Lee Sara. She’s in my design class. She’s also going to be an architect.”

“Hi,” Sara smiled. She was beautiful, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” you smiled back, eyes darting between the two before settling on Jungkook’s, “you ready to go?”

“Actually, Sara and I are going to get some boba,” Jungkook said.

“Oh,” you tried to hide the surprise on your face, “right. Uhm… I’ll see you later then.”

“Do you want to join us?” Sara asked kindly.

Jungkook was already turning away by then, probably too excited to get his drink to think about your feelings. He stopped mid-way, looked back at you, only to see you shake your head.

“I’m okay,” you smiled slightly, “see you two later. I gotta head to the library to study.”

Maybe it was the fact that Jungkook never used to socialize with girls before or that you never noticed, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly disoriented at the sudden switch in the situation, causing Changbin’s earlier words to resonate through your brain. Did Jungkook actually have romantic intentions towards girls.

Did he feel attracted to them? It had never crossed your mind before, but now that Changbin had it labeled as an option, it was as if you couldn’t get the thought out of your head.

And it wasn’t just a one-time occurrence. A few days later you found him cooped up in the library with Sara at his side as they studied the mathematical equations of buildings and helped each other out with their projects. You had joined for a bit, only to feel a bit left out by the conversation and thus opted out early in favour of escaping the rising awkwardness. Not that Jungkook noticed, he never noticed anything.

“Maybe you’re right.” You’d grumbled to Changbin during your art lab a few days later. You had arrived early to class, coffee still steaming in hand, to find the said young man already sitting inside with his final artwork labeled and ready to be submitted on the table.

He looked at you, an eyebrow raising in curiosity, “I’m right about many things,” a smirk graced his face, “do tell.”

“About Jungkook liking girls.”

“No. I said he liked you, that’s a different—“

“It doesn’t matter,” you cut him off, “he doesn’t like me. But he’s—I just realized that maybe he does want a girlfriend. Maybe.”

“What made you say that?”

“He’s been hanging out a lot with a classmate lately,” you shrugged, “it’s just—it feels weird. He never used to be so…social.”

“Good riddance,” Changbin’s smirk grew, which made you throw your pen at his head. It hit him straight on the forehead, “ow! Watch it, woman.”

It was for the best. Really, truly, that Jungkook was expanding his horizons and talking to new people. He couldn’t be in your shadow forever, after all. That was what you kept on repeating yourself as the thoughts replayed through your brain again and again and again. The realization was tough, but change was good. Right?

Change was needed.

And maybe you should change too.

———

"Pigs aren't cute. They bathe in mud and carry numerous bacteria and and these bacteria are transferred to humans."

"Pigs are cute!" You gasped, shoving your phone in Jungkook's face to show him an image of said animal, "look at their babies! They're so fluffy and like tiny and small--"

He pushed your hand away in disgust, "you have weird taste in cutness."

"They're this ugly pink but overall they're quite charming, don't you think?" You giggled as you keptbswiping for photo after photo, "oh gosh, look at this one! He has a bow on his head."

“Y/N you have a weird definition of cute.”

You chuckled, “and you are weird, full stop.”

A few days had passed ever since your encounter with Sara and you hadn’t mentioned anything about the said girl since, thinking that it was probably for the best. And plus, Jungkook had the complete right to do whatever he wanted with his life. Yup. You weren’t there to stop him from talking to a pretty girl.

Maybe you should worry about yourself instead, and try not to focus too much on how it was getting harder and harder to get Jungkook’s attention these days.

Not that anything had changed. You still went on your library study sessions and bought boba together after every art history lecture. You still ate friend chicken and pizza while streaming your favorite movie — the same one that Jungkook asked for every week — and you still hung out with each other as though everything was normal.

But you knew it was far from it, something that your social circle of friends also pointed out during one particular lunchtime.

“He’s so peculiar. How do you hang out with him?” asked your good friend Yoona. You had met her during orientation and the two of you had hung out together quite often ever since. She’d even tagged along to some of your famous movie night Fridays, “I mean, not to sound rude but he’s like the kind of guy you’d find in Internet cafes.”

“He’s not all that bad. You just don’t know him well,” you argued as you took a sip of your iced tea.

“Don’t you think he has a crush on you, Y/N?” Another friend, Jimin, asked. He was busy unwrapping his sandwich and flicked his fringe out of his eyes, cocking his head in a way that made you feel a little self-conscious.

Yoona chortled, “no way. I don’t see it. Although…when you think about it, it would make sense why they would end up together.”

“Right?” Jimin added, “it’s clear as day that you guys have feelings for each oth—“

“Bullshit,” you laughed, “I don’t know why you keep mentioning that. And plus, he’s hanging out with this new girl these days.”

“New girl? Who?” Yoona frowned.

“Her name’s Sara Lee. Heard of her before?”

“Oh,” Jimin straightens, “the pretty girl from architecture right? I think everyone’s heard of her. She’s like an influencer or something.”

“Well you know, if you dress up Jungkook nicely…” Yoona trailed off in thought, “I think he has potential.”

“You think? Girl, the ladies in my course have been eyeing him since the start of the new semester. That’s old news,” Jimin rolled his eyes as you stared them down, eyes darting from one face to another as the new information sunk in.

“Wait—“ you interrupted their flow of conversation, “are you—are you actually serious? Jungkook? Potential? What—“

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen it yet, Y/N,” Yoona said as she slurped down her drink, “I mean— this boy just has wardrobe issues. Nothing that a little bit of fixing can’t solve.”

Contrary to your friends, you had never actually thought of Jungkook— seen of him in this light. Which was why you decided to stare him down in your art history lecture right after lunch, cocking your head this way and that as you examined the angles of his face.

In truth, they were right. Jungkook did have potential to be handsome. Because even with those round glasses and that horrible side part of his, you could still catch a glimpse of his jaw line. His build was hidden, but yet still there underneath the curve of his shoulders. His back was broad, that you were sure of and you couldn’t help imagining how he would look like in a v-neck shirt—

Stop. Your slammed down on your thoughts like car brakes. This was Jungkook, for god’s sake. You’d known him as the annoying classmate in high school, the quirky friend who never wore sweaters or casual wear and was always decked in formal attire. This wasn’t about to change now.

“Y/N, you’ve been staring me down since the start of class and it’s starting to creep me out.”

Jungkook’s voice dragged you back to reality. You blinked, catching his eyes as warmth suddenly flushed through the back of your neck.

“Uh—yeah sorry. Was just lost in thought.” Lies. You were definitely checking him out. You wondered whether he actually knew what that word meant. You were just glad he wasn’t the best at reading physical body language or expressions for that matter.

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked suddenly.

He looked hesitant, but nodded.

“What do you think of Sara?”

“What do I think of Sara?” You watched his eyebrows pull into a frown, “I don’t think I understand this question, Y/N.”

“I mean—do you find Sara attractive? Like as a girl?”

Jungkook was silent for a long moment and though you were usually the best at reading him, the expression on his face was one that you couldn’t decipher.

It made your stomach curl with unease.

And when he finally spoke, you swore your stomach twisted in on itself.

“Sara is pretty.”

Your throat suddenly felt dry. You swallowed thickly, bit down onto your lower lip and tried to wonder what the fuck was wrong with you. It wasn’t like you liked Jungkook…right? Right?

“Would you date her?” You asked.

“I have not thought of it. But yes, she is, by every man’s standards, a very good candidate for a girlfriend.”

Ah. So he did know what it meant after all.

“But would you date her?”

“Probably. Yes.” He looked at you then, tilting his head to the side as though trying to decode what was going on inside that head of yours, “why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing. No reason.” You tried to smile, lips lifting slightly at the corners in hopes that it would fool him.

It did. Without him knowing that somewhere along the seam of your heart was a small hole that ripped apart its seams.

-—-

Part Two >>

[oshbluepacific]

Unfaithful Trust / IV

Type: Angst/Fluff

Character: Jung Hoseok x Reader (MAFIA! AU)

Words Counted: 3k7+

MASTERLIST . ask/request

I - II - III - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI - XII - XIII - XIV -  XV - XVI - 

[crown-eater]

Only the Vital Ones, Pt. 1

“In those days, desires weren’t allowed to become reality. So, fantasy was substituted for them–films, books, pictures. They called it ‘art.’ But, when your desires become reality, you don’t need fantasy any longer, or art.”–Amyl Nitrate, “Jubilee”

[ With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence, 3, Pts. I, II. ] [ The Uptake (table of contents)]

The small brushed steel kitchen table of Cecil and ‘Choly’s studio apartment abutted a full-height open-frame modular shelving unit, which doubled as a space divider between the kitchen and the daybed in the back corner that ‘Choly frequented whenever scaling the loft bed proved too taxing. Slumped at it in a dark tank top and his orange leggings, before the ex-stalker lay a quaint butcher-paper and twine parcel, a paring knife, and his reader on a kickstand. With the apartment to himself, ‘Choly surveyed some of the pieces in his drafts and rubbed at his marred face in a dull restlessness. Grazing his recent cheek suture, he flinched and stood, and he paced in the narrow track the length of the apartment which functioned not unlike a hallway.

Two years ago, such incisions would have been made in the spirit of verbot chasing. He sniveled in anger at the impotence of having had to make such a superficial adjustment for sake of his own clumsiness, rather than in the aftermath of risky enterprises. He'd tried several times to contact the Tellurides after the riots and subsequent quarantine, and he knew in his gut that all three of them had gotten walled up with the rest of the Quarter. And the Geek, and Chalcedony, too, for all he knew. His only solace came in knowing that at least his parents had moved back in together downstate before things had gotten especially hairy.

He returned to the kitchen and rinsed out a mug to pour himself a fresh cup of black coffee from the carafe Cecil had brewed for breakfast, and he sat again. Then, he snipped the string on the box and unfurled its wrappings. His horn-rimmed glasses came off and lay across the table from him as he continued massaging at his cheeks and chin and neck marbled with errant scars. He flicked up the messaging app frame and clicked on Augen’s active username, and sighed. Rather than initiate conversation, he produced from the small wax-coated cardstock box a decently-sized chalky pastel ball. He smoothed out the parchment with a detached free hand, and set down the ball of Confec atop it with the other.

The ball bore a mealy consistency somewhere between soap and fudge. A quarter-inch butt fell to the paper, and he stuck it in his mouth to let the hyssop-like bouquet melt on his tongue as he sank into his chair and hesitated on the chat he’d opened.

ketherphorbia: you’re up early 9augen: funny, i was just about to message you. not at the library today? ketherphorbia: no, and i’m not getting anywhere with what i <i>was</i> trying to do so you have my full attention 9augen: how does meeting up for lunch sound? ketherphorbia: i ketherphorbia: i just started in on a fresh confec bonbon, but yeah 9augen: the finnegans across the street from your old place? its on me ketherphorbia: something tells me you’re just looking for an excuse to milk their one-cred goldfinch lunch special 9augen: if you want a few, just say so. can you be there in... say, an hour? ketherphorbia: it honestly sounds fantastic. we can both talk. if you want

Still rattled from the abrupt invitation, ‘Choly put the knife in the sink and rounded the modular divider to rummage in the side-table drawers for something to throw on. First came his back brace, splints, and wrist braces, and he yanked together his salmon button-up, black sweater with the elbows cut out, and slashed jeans over the orange leggings. Taking his jewelry box into the bathroom, he then brushed his bangtails and tucked the right side back with his ABC-gum barrette. He hooked his new black acrylic skull-cutout gauge hangers into his ears, and plucked his balloon animal and saturn-symbol pendants to string around his neck. The spoon pin went in his left collar-point, and he sat on the daybed for his socks. On the way out the door, he tucked the wax paper wrapped Confec into his diamond-shaped cross-body bag and nabbed his cane, retrieved his glasses, and slipped into his mint creepers.

Along the short trip down to Level 5, he shot Cecil a short message:

|| Might not be home when you get off work. Augen invited me to lunch. He hasn’t said hardly a word since it happened, and I get the feeling he needs a friend right now. ||

Cecil replied to him as ‘Choly waved his pass and boarded the toll lift:

|| I can only imagine how hard it’s been for him. Hope he’s doing ok. You two have a good time. Love you. Give him a kiss for me ||

With a chuckle and a fish emoticon, ‘Choly exited the lift and hobbled down the street. He texted Augen that he'd arrived, asking where to meet him, because at first he didn't see him outside. Leaning on the front facade of the Finnegan’s, a tall gothic figure smoked religiously. The young man with dark hair pulled into a low messy bun wore a black button-down and drop-crotch pants, a dark grey knee-length gauzy vest, a large black shawl-scarf wrapped around his shoulders and neck, and mesh boots. Upon closer inspection, the combination of facial body mods--spider bites, gauged one-inch ears and 2ga medusa with glass plugs, symmetrical double brow piercings, and batwing clicker--confirmed for ‘Choly that this was his friend. Somehow, even with his suspicion as to why Augen had initiated the meeting, he’d still expected to find him his old self, and not this anxious chain-smoking human mess. Augen rolled his eyes at him, having just checked his messages.

“Word of warning, I’m a bit thrushed right now,” 'Choly blurted out. Rather than respond, Augen leaned down and steadied ‘Choly’s chin to give him a kiss. ‘Choly smiled strangely and reciprocated with a second peck, then navigated the awkward posture into a hug as he tucked his head against Augen’s chest. It unnerved 'Choly that his friend was no longer cold-blooded, no longer clammy and tepid, but he kept it to himself. “...Hello to you, too.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Augen rubbed at ‘Choly’s scruff and held the door for him. He eyed ‘Choly’s sweater dully in passing. “<i>Don’t Quit Your Daydream</i>, huh?”<br>

‘Choly looked down at the saying printed on his front once they’d cleared the atrium, and his brows upturned.

“Hah, maladaptive daydreaming. Had it for years. I just kinda threw something on so I wouldn’t run late.”

“Daydream... into a living nightmare...”

With the detached comment, Augen waved down a server to seat them. Marinating in his dissociative veneer, ‘Choly swallowed hard at the prospect of purposefully navigating his mental filter. They settled at a table amid the lunch traffic, and with a series of finger gestures along the tabletop which doubled as a touchscreen menu, both ordered pinzones dorados and got to glancing over their options in silence. The server, a young brunet named Bert, promptly came and left with their drinks, as well as a basket of multicolored meal-rinds and two dishes of salsa. 'Choly sipped at his golden glowing pinzón, a smooth over-ice mix of tonic, hydroponic mezcal, triple sec, and lime liqueur, and mentally praised the facility with which one could get drunk at any hour in this city.

“So... this is a thing now.” ‘Choly got a rind real heavy with salsa and shoved it in his mouth.

Augen knocked back half his liquor in one motion, and slouched over it.

“I’d lived myself so fully, that I’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be human. I’ve missed smoking, if we’re looking for an upside to all this.”

“There’s gotta be a way t’get back what you had. At least some of it?”

“That’s... just about the last thing I want to talk about right now. Past tense doesn’t feel so great.”

They used their mouths to crunch rinds and nothing else. Augen took a hit off the cig around his neck, and with a deep exhale he shut his sunken eyes, the vapors entangling with the odd abstract light fixture over the table. Once they'd placed their orders, 'Choly did his best to people watch behind a zoned out Augen, mostly observing the rotation of three servers popping in and out of the kitchen door with dishes. When a couple that sat on the same side of their far-corner booth thought 'Choly gawked at their unapologetic PDAs and gave him a stink-eye, he coughed, and started trying to read the pattern of scrapbooked web articles which plastered every wall and the ceiling of the restaurant. The theme of all the articles painted up Tri-City's sheer melting pot culture as a fusion city, boasting a collage of articles about people from just about every level in the hyper-metroplex.

Bert interrupted their silence with their meals, and 'Choly squirmed back to give the server the space to lay it out on the table. The teen couldn't hide a sigh of relief as he picked up one plate, and glanced between the both of them.

"Who ordered the wraps?"

Augen gave him a lazy hand gesture, and the plate slid over to him. On Augen’s plate of spring wraps lay six large seared shrimp. Sliced in half both for presentation and facility, the three girthy wraps were stuffed with a combination of mushroom slices, seaweed, and fried mealworms.

"And then, the benedict's yours. Extra sauce?"

"Yes, thank you," 'Choly lauded with a heavily modulated affect, as the other mess of a plate came his way. A viscous pale yellow-green mess blanketed two nondescript mounds of protein and bread, and along its side the cook had scattered soft, colorful citrus gummies. "So glad I can still get breakfast here this late."

"Is there anyth--" Bert broke off, unable not to stare at Augen, as he fished out a pair of napkin-rolled utensils to give them. Augen returned the stare, deadpan.

"...Spring wraps, and a side order of shrimp. It is you."

‘Choly gave the poor boy a glossy smile, about to praise how good it all looked, but he quickly drooped in recognition of the tension.

“So I took a bath today,” Augen dismissed, total fatigue in his voice. “Big deal.”

‘Choly coughed, cataract-bloom eyes wide as he took a stiff sip. Setting the pinzón back down, he tried to smile up at the waiter again, his voice cracking.

"Could we get more rinds?"

The waiter shook his head and shut his eyes, then nodded.

“--Sure thing.”

“And we already need another round of <i>birds</i>.” Augen traced the edge of the faded glass with one black-polished finger and a heavy-lidded, eyelined smirk.

The server flashed him a fake grin, poorly hiding his revelry that the city had defanged the loathsome goth.

“I’ll be right back.”

‘Choly fought with the self-conscious selfishness of directing the conversation to himself, but still he persisted, hoping to distract his friend from getting recognized by his typical order. ‘Choly unrolled his flatware to tuck the napkin beside his plate, and took up the table knife and fork with zeal. He didn’t want to admit it, but as had become typical in the past few weeks, the only thing he’d put in his stomach so far by that time of day was a slice of wax and half a cup of coffee. Augen took precise bites, holding his food gingerly with thoroughly ring-encrusted hands. His face stitched with a faint sweat which could have been from stress, the heat of the food, or even from the start of enebriation. 'Choly observed in distant and fascinated contemplation, unsure whether his friend derived his mannerisms from humanity or the vestiges of having so recently once been a hybrid. Augen shot him a vague glance, and he cringed from getting caught watching. ‘Choly pushed the sauce-drenched larva-hash back up on the one round bready thing he’d been cutting bites from, sheepish.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, there’s gotta be something you can do to take your mind off it instead? Have you tried... writing, since...?”

Augen finished off the first drink right when Bert swung by two replacements and more rinds and salsa. ‘Choly hadn’t even drunk half of his first pinzón yet, and he nudged his new one his friend’s way, knowing the rate this meal was going. “Most of the time,” the goth mumbled, welcoming the offer, “my writing takes a particular head space. And I sure as fuck haven’t been in it.”

“I mean, like. Not in a carnal sense. Sort of in a carnal sense. An emotional sense? A purgative sense?”

Augen kept his eyes on his food, but his ears patently on his friend. ‘Choly’s hallmark withdrawn posture and tone signaled vague, incumbent rambling. With welcome resignation the goth listened, as he’d aspired from the start. After all, ‘Choly always had been the long-winded one of them.

“You... You remember how I was writing stories about me gettin’ with the Geek, but then I stopped abruptly? The last wip I posted before I stopped was right after I found out that the Geek and the Larva were the same person. Early on, the reasons I couldn’t reconcile with finishing the piece were ‘cause of how badly my first encounter with him went, but then fantasy turned into reality and he... caught me stalkin’ him and. You remember that right?” ‘Choly fished his reader from his bag, and tried to locate a picture in his camera roll. “I know I sent you a selfie of the black eye he gave me...”

“...You couldn’t shut up about it for a month. Heh.”

‘Choly looked up from his reader with a dull gloss to his features, and sniffed. “He even tracked me down, what, five weeks later? An’ things got super weird--" He chewed at his labret. "...I’m still trying to process everything that happened two years ago.”

“This is about the walls, isn’t it.”

“Not quite. And yet. Exactly. I just. I owe it to him to get the details right, don’t I? It feels real lousy to even consider writing a nonfictional account of him, and yet.” He popped an orange gummy in his mouth, and licked the thick, tangy sauce off his swan-splinted fingertip. “I feel like I need to get the very concept of him in print, to get it out from inside of me. I know it’s already been two years since the walls went up, but I don’t think it’s possible for me to forget all that... death, even for a day.” A grapefruit one, this time. “How do you stay motivated to write something that hurts and arouses you, both in ways nothing else has ever really managed to?”

Augen dipped a spring roll in his salsa, and started working on the third drink. Not glancing up from his food, his brows piqued with heavy lids.

“A difficult question. Perhaps a better reply would be another question: Who’re you writing this for?”

‘Choly set down his utensils and stared down his food.

“I’d say it was for me, but I feel like I need to put his ghost to rest. I’d say it was for him, but it’s also in hopes of jamming my brain because something more accurate could exist of him than anything I’ve written of him prior. And I’d... say it was for you, or any of my followers, but I... don’t even know if I can bring myself to post the results.” The dreg sneaked the Confec from his bag and set it beside his plate. “I... I gotta have another slice.”

That got Augen’s attention.

“Mmh. Mind sharing?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

‘Choly sliced through the partial ball a few times with his thumbs against the spine of the knife, and Augen reached over to help himself to one. Wincing at the bitterness, he chewed it up and washed it down with more liquor. 'Choly simply slouched back and let the stringent melt go for a few minutes, thinking it nearly paired with the citrus cubes.

“Cecil knows about us,” Augen began, eyes stitched shut, “but you never did tell Cecil about the Geek, did you? Have you ever wanted to?”

“I told him about Chalcedony. And he may not have said anything, but I know he knows about me an’ the Geek. Can’t not. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how open he is to it all. It’s like he believes leaving me untethered keeps me more faithful. He’s... not wrong, I guess.” ‘Choly looked up when he heard Augen stifle a choke, and suddenly he regretted sharing. His friend’s face was glistening, grey eyes wide. “Are you-- all right?”

“How’s everything tasting so far?” Bert interjected in passing, trying to hide concern when he he paused noticing Augen’s demeanor.

“Don't mind him." 'Choly quickly stashed the Confec back in his bag, unsure whether having it would cause them trouble. "I think something just went down the wrong way.”

The boy frowned at the Augen, who blanched and rubbed at his Adam’s apple a bit. On cue, Augen forced a cough.

“I... It's nothing."

Augen tapped a finger on his glass, not looking to Bert, and the waiter plucked up their empty glasses with a nod and excused himself, shaking his head in delirious incredulity at what had become of their once most troublesome patron.

“Seriously... Are you okay? You know you’re supposed to let that stuff melt slow.”

Rather than reply, the goth took one of ‘Choly’s wristbraced hands in both of his own, and guided it to hold his strained throat. He sustained breathless, tormented eye contact.

“It's wearing off faster than I was planning. Thought for sure I'd at least get to slagging finish eating. I'll... I'll take it.”

On to part 2 »»»

[kpoptrashreactions]

Rapper Jimin (BTS) crowd/backstage

Request: Hiii I wanted to request a scenario where you go to rapper Jimin's concert and he notices you in the crowd and takes you backstage and it could be smutty if you want haha but yea thank you!! I got the idea to request this when I kept watching the vid of jimin rapping 😂  - @chimeyesmiles

Here you go darling hope you enjoy it sorry for not adding smut I'm not good at writing and also I would feel awkward writing it… but honestly, I based this of what I would think would happen because I'm a Jimin bias too and my befriends bias's are Jungkook and Suga.

~Admin Kirra-Jane~

You were so excited to go to Jimin’s first concert as a solo rapper, you had always been a Jimin bias ever since he debuted with BTS. Now that he had gone to a rapping career you were happy for him, sad for V because he wants to rap too. You had met BTS before at a fan meet.

*flashback*

You and your friend are waiting in line to talk to the members. The two of you are the last people in line for the fan meet.

‘i can’t wait to see Jimin’ you shout in a whisper because you don’t want them to hear you ‘i know you can’t but look at Jungkook he looks so good’ y/f/n while looking almost staring at Jungkook

‘stop staring your gonna start drooling’

it’s your turn to go up and the first person you see in Jin ‘hi’ you said very shy as you felt as if you were about to cry from excitement and shock that you are actually talking to a member of BTS

‘hi whats your name’ he said with the cutest smile on his face

‘Y/N’ you said quietly

‘well, what a lovely name… who’s your bias’ he said very curious… while you were thinking rap Mon peered over to hear who you bias was.

‘Jimin Oppa is my bias’ you see the look on jin’s face half sad but also half excited because he saw rap Mon pass the message down the line of members to Jimin himself.

‘well have a nice day Y/N’ said Jin as he finished signing your stuff, you then move to rap Mon

‘hi’ you said quietly again still in shock

‘you know you don’t have to be shy we aren’t gonna bite you’ he said while laughing… with you now gaining some confidence and getting over your shyness you said

‘i guess so there's no point in me coming here if I'm not going to talk’ rap Mon looked up almost proud and said

‘Good girl… also, I hear your bias is Jimin…’ he said with a smirk

‘oh god don’t tell me you passed it down the line’

‘sorry darling but have fun with the pabo’

You quickly move down the one you had some giggles with Tae and j-hope you got out your ID to show Jungkook you’re a year younger than him so you can call him oppa.. and now you are standing in front of Jimin you bias himself.

You guys talked for a bit with some tension until he mentioned

‘So I heard I'm your bias huh’ he said with a smirk planted on his face

‘Oh god I knew I shouldn’t have told Jin Oppa but yes you are my bias’ you said just loud enough that Jin heard you

‘hey it wasn't me it was Rap Mon’

‘It’s ok darling me being your bias is a good thing cause it’s me’ he said while giggling ‘Thank you for coming I hope you have a safe trip home ok’ you nodded while trying not to cry.

‘Before I go I just want to say thank you for making my life better and happier’ as you and your friend walk off you look at all of their signatures you turn to Jimin’s and you see a number

‘no way’

‘what, what is it Y/N’

‘Jimin gave me his number.... Park Jimin gave me his number omg’

*end of flashback*

Since then you and Jimin messaged as often as he could you guys text and call and sometimes even FaceTime. you entered the concert arena and as soon as you went in there a security guy asked you to go backstage because Jim wanted to see you.

You got backstage and as soon as you enter you see the rest of bangtail sitting on the couches

‘HI Y/N’ V basically screamed in your ear just being excited to see you again. The rest of them said their hello’s and soon enough he entered park Jimin. he came up behind you and gave you a back hug. Not expecting it you jumped he just stood there laughing along with the rest of BTS.

‘You scared the living hell out of me Oppa’

‘you should have seen your face’ he giggled at your reaction

‘Jimin it’s time for the show come on’

‘stay here with the boys and watch the show ok’ he said as he ran off… he stopped and ran back and kissed you on the cheek and then walked out to the stage to meet the roaring audience.

*after stage*

You were sitting with the rest of Bangtan talking about something when you see 2 arms draped around your shoulder

‘Hey lovely can I talk to you’ Jimin whispered in your ear

‘Sure… I'll be back in a minute or two boys.’

‘or maybe an hour or two’ whispered Rap Mon to the boys

‘i heard that’ you shouted back at them as they explode into teenage giggling girls

you get to Jimin’s change room

‘So what did you wan….’

Jimin interrupts you with a kiss you were so shocked at first but then you slowly melted into the kiss. You slowly pull away from each other...

‘you have no idea how long I have wanted to do that..’ Jimin said in loss of breath

‘Why didn’t you do it earlier then.’ you said while smirking

‘I'll do more than that’ he said as he locked the door let’s have some fun.

‘Show me what you’ve got oppa….’

*you can imagine what comes next*

[the-uptake]

Only the Vital Ones, 1

The Uptake, With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence. Book III, Chapter 3, Part 1. (Go to Pt.2) Go to next chapter.

TW: Drug use?

“In those days, desires weren’t allowed to become reality. So, fantasy was substituted for them–films, books, pictures. They called it ‘art.’ But, when your desires become reality, you don’t need fantasy any longer, or art.”–Amyl Nitrate, “Jubilee”

The small brushed steel kitchen table of Cecil and ‘Choly’s studio apartment abutted a full-height open-frame modular shelving unit, which doubled as a space divider between the kitchen and the daybed in the back corner that ‘Choly frequented whenever scaling the loft bed proved too taxing. Slumped at it in a dark tank top and his orange leggings, before the ex-stalker lay a quaint butcher-paper and twine parcel, a paring knife, and his reader on a kickstand. With the apartment to himself, ‘Choly surveyed some of the pieces in his drafts and rubbed at his marred face in a dull restlessness. Grazing his recent cheek suture, he flinched and stood, and he paced in the narrow track the length of the apartment which functioned not unlike a hallway.

Two years ago, such incisions would have been made in the spirit of verbot chasing. He sniveled in anger at the impotence of having had to make such a superficial adjustment for sake of his own clumsiness, rather than in the aftermath of risky enterprises. He'd tried several times to contact the Tellurides after the riots and subsequent quarantine, and he knew in his gut that all three of them had gotten walled up with the rest of the Quarter. And the Geek, and Chalcedony, too, for all he knew. His only solace came in knowing that at least his parents had moved back in together downstate before things had gotten especially hairy.

He returned to the kitchen and rinsed out a mug to pour himself a fresh cup of black coffee from the carafe Cecil had brewed for breakfast, and he sat again. Then, he snipped the string on the box and unfurled its wrappings. His horn-rimmed glasses came off and lay across the table from him as he continued massaging at his cheeks and chin and neck marbled with errant scars. He flicked up the messaging app frame and clicked on Augen’s active username, and sighed. Rather than initiate conversation, he produced from the small wax-coated cardstock box a decently-sized chalky pastel ball. He smoothed out the parchment with a detached free hand, and set down the ball of Confec atop it with the other.

The ball bore a mealy consistency somewhere between soap and fudge. A quarter-inch butt fell to the paper, and he stuck it in his mouth to let the hyssop-like bouquet melt on his tongue as he sank into his chair and hesitated on the chat he’d opened.

ketherphorbia: you’re up early 9augen: funny, i was just about to message you. not at the library today? ketherphorbia: no, and i’m not getting anywhere with what i was trying to do so you have my full attention 9augen: how does meeting up for lunch sound? ketherphorbia: i ketherphorbia: i just started in on a fresh confec bonbon, but yeah 9augen: the finnegans across the street from your old place? its on me ketherphorbia: something tells me you’re just looking for an excuse to milk their one-cred goldfinch lunch special 9augen: if you want a few, just say so. can you be there in... say, an hour? ketherphorbia: it honestly sounds fantastic. we can both talk. if you want

Still rattled from the abrupt invitation, ‘Choly put the knife in the sink and rounded the modular divider to rummage in the side-table drawers for something to throw on. First came his back brace, splints, and wrist braces, and he yanked together his salmon button-up, black sweater with the elbows cut out, and slashed jeans over the orange leggings. Taking his jewelry box into the bathroom, he then brushed his bangtails and tucked the right side back with his ABC-gum barrette. He hooked his new black acrylic skull-cutout gauge hangers into his ears, and plucked his balloon animal and saturn-symbol pendants to string around his neck. The spoon pin went in his left collar-point, and he sat on the daybed for his socks. On the way out the door, he tucked the wax paper wrapped Confec into his diamond-shaped cross-body bag and nabbed his cane, retrieved his glasses, and slipped into his mint creepers.

Along the short trip down to Level 5, he shot Cecil a short message:

|| Might not be home when you get off work. Augen invited me to lunch. He hasn’t said hardly a word since it happened, and I get the feeling he needs a friend right now. ||

Cecil replied to him as ‘Choly waved his pass and boarded the toll lift:

|| I can only imagine how hard it’s been for him. Hope he’s doing ok. You two have a good time. Love you. Give him a kiss for me ||

With a chuckle and a fish emoticon, ‘Choly exited the lift and hobbled down the street. He texted Augen that he'd arrived, asking where to meet him, because at first he didn't see him outside. Leaning on the front facade of the Finnegan’s, a tall gothic figure smoked religiously. The young man with dark hair pulled into a low messy bun wore a black button-down and drop-crotch pants, a dark grey knee-length gauzy vest, a large black shawl-scarf wrapped around his shoulders and neck, and mesh boots. Upon closer inspection, the combination of facial body mods--spider bites, gauged one-inch ears and 2ga medusa with glass plugs, symmetrical double brow piercings, and batwing clicker--confirmed for ‘Choly that this was his friend. Somehow, even with his suspicion as to why Augen had initiated the meeting, he’d still expected to find him his old self, and not this anxious chain-smoking human mess. Augen rolled his eyes at him, having just checked his messages.

“Word of warning, I’m a bit thrushed right now,” 'Choly blurted out. Rather than respond, Augen leaned down and steadied ‘Choly’s chin to give him a kiss. ‘Choly smiled strangely and reciprocated with a second peck, then navigated the awkward posture into a hug as he tucked his head against Augen’s chest. It unnerved 'Choly that his friend was no longer cold-blooded, no longer clammy and tepid, but he kept it to himself. “...Hello to you, too.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Augen rubbed at ‘Choly’s scruff and held the door for him. He eyed ‘Choly’s sweater dully in passing. “Don’t Quit Your Daydream, huh?”

‘Choly looked down at the saying printed on his front once they’d cleared the atrium, and his brows upturned.

“Hah, maladaptive daydreaming. Had it for years. I just kinda threw something on so I wouldn’t run late.”

“Daydream... into a living nightmare...”

With the detached comment, Augen waved down a server to seat them. Marinating in his dissociative veneer, ‘Choly swallowed hard at the prospect of purposefully navigating his mental filter. They settled at a table amid the lunch traffic, and with a series of finger gestures along the tabletop which doubled as a touchscreen menu, both ordered pinzones dorados and got to glancing over their options in silence. The server, a young brunet named Bert, promptly came and left with their drinks, as well as a basket of multicolored meal-rinds and two dishes of salsa. 'Choly sipped at his golden glowing pinzón, a smooth over-ice mix of tonic, hydroponic mezcal, triple sec, and lime liqueur, and mentally praised the facility with which one could get drunk at any hour in this city.

“So... this is a thing now.” ‘Choly got a rind real heavy with salsa and shoved it in his mouth.

Augen knocked back half his liquor in one motion, and slouched over it.

“I’d lived myself so fully, that I’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be human. I’ve missed smoking, if we’re looking for an upside to all this.”

“There’s gotta be a way t’get back what you had. At least some of it?”

“That’s... just about the last thing I want to talk about right now. Past tense doesn’t feel so great.”

They used their mouths to crunch rinds and nothing else. Augen took a hit off the cig around his neck, and with a deep exhale he shut his sunken eyes, the vapors entangling with the odd abstract light fixture over the table. Once they'd placed their orders, 'Choly did his best to people watch behind a zoned out Augen, mostly observing the rotation of three servers popping in and out of the kitchen door with dishes. When a couple that sat on the same side of their far-corner booth thought 'Choly gawked at their unapologetic PDAs and gave him a stink-eye, he coughed, and started trying to read the pattern of scrapbooked web articles which plastered every wall and the ceiling of the restaurant. The theme of all the articles painted up Tri-City's sheer melting pot culture as a fusion city, boasting a collage of articles about people from just about every level in the hyper-metroplex.

Bert interrupted their silence with their meals, and 'Choly squirmed back to give the server the space to lay it out on the table. The teen couldn't hide a sigh of relief as he picked up one plate, and glanced between the both of them.

"Who ordered the wraps?"

Augen gave him a lazy hand gesture, and the plate slid over to him. On Augen’s plate of spring wraps lay six large seared shrimp. Sliced in half both for presentation and facility, the three girthy wraps were stuffed with a combination of mushroom slices, seaweed, and fried mealworms.

"And then, the benedict's yours. Extra sauce?"

"Yes, thank you," 'Choly lauded with a heavily modulated affect, as the other mess of a plate came his way. A viscous pale yellow-green mess blanketed two nondescript mounds of protein and bread, and along its side the cook had scattered soft, colorful citrus gummies. "So glad I can still get breakfast here this late."

"Is there anyth--" Bert broke off, unable not to stare at Augen, as he fished out a pair of napkin-rolled utensils to give them. Augen returned the stare, deadpan.

"...Spring wraps, and a side order of shrimp. It is you."

‘Choly gave the poor boy a glossy smile, about to praise how good it all looked, but he quickly drooped in recognition of the tension.

“So I took a bath today,” Augen dismissed, total fatigue in his voice. “Big deal.”

‘Choly coughed, cataract-bloom eyes wide as he took a stiff sip. Setting the pinzón back down, he tried to smile up at the waiter again, his voice cracking.

"Could we get more rinds?"

The waiter shook his head and shut his eyes, then nodded.

“--Sure thing.”

“And we already need another round of birds.” Augen traced the edge of the faded glass with one black-polished finger and a heavy-lidded, eyelined smirk.

The server flashed him a fake grin, poorly hiding his revelry that the city had defanged the loathsome goth.

“I’ll be right back.”

‘Choly fought with the self-conscious selfishness of directing the conversation to himself, but still he persisted, hoping to distract his friend from getting recognized by his typical order. ‘Choly unrolled his flatware to tuck the napkin beside his plate, and took up the table knife and fork with zeal. He didn’t want to admit it, but as had become typical in the past few weeks, the only thing he’d put in his stomach so far by that time of day was a slice of wax and half a cup of coffee. Augen took precise bites, holding his food gingerly with thoroughly ring-encrusted hands. His face stitched with a faint sweat which could have been from stress, the heat of the food, or even from the start of enebriation. 'Choly observed in distant and fascinated contemplation, unsure whether his friend derived his mannerisms from humanity or the vestiges of having so recently once been a hybrid. Augen shot him a vague glance, and he cringed from getting caught watching. ‘Choly pushed the sauce-drenched larva-hash back up on the one round bready thing he’d been cutting bites from, sheepish.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, there’s gotta be something you can do to take your mind off it instead? Have you tried... writing, since...?”

Augen finished off the first drink right when Bert swung by two replacements and more rinds and salsa. ‘Choly hadn’t even drunk half of his first pinzón yet, and he nudged his new one his friend’s way, knowing the rate this meal was going. “Most of the time,” the goth mumbled, welcoming the offer, “my writing takes a particular head space. And I sure as fuck haven’t been in it.”

“I mean, like. Not in a carnal sense. Sort of in a carnal sense. An emotional sense? A purgative sense?”

Augen kept his eyes on his food, but his ears patently on his friend. ‘Choly’s hallmark withdrawn posture and tone signaled vague, incumbent rambling. With welcome resignation the goth listened, as he’d aspired from the start. After all, ‘Choly always had been the long-winded one of them.

“You... You remember how I was writing stories about me gettin’ with the Geek, but then I stopped abruptly? The last wip I posted before I stopped was right after I found out that the Geek and the Larva were the same person. Early on, the reasons I couldn’t reconcile with finishing the piece were ‘cause of how badly my first encounter with him went, but then fantasy turned into reality and he... caught me stalkin’ him and. You remember that right?” ‘Choly fished his reader from his bag, and tried to locate a picture in his camera roll. “I know I sent you a selfie of the black eye he gave me...”

“...You couldn’t shut up about it for a month. Heh.”

‘Choly looked up from his reader with a dull gloss to his features, and sniffed. “He even tracked me down, what, five weeks later? An’ things got super weird--" He chewed at his labret. "...I’m still trying to process everything that happened two years ago.”

“This is about the walls, isn’t it.”

“Not quite. And yet. Exactly. I just. I owe it to him to get the details right, don’t I? It feels real lousy to even consider writing a nonfictional account of him, and yet.” He popped an orange gummy in his mouth, and licked the thick, tangy sauce off his swan-splinted fingertip. “I feel like I need to get the very concept of him in print, to get it out from inside of me. I know it’s already been two years since the walls went up, but I don’t think it’s possible for me to forget all that... death, even for a day.” A grapefruit one, this time. “How do you stay motivated to write something that hurts and arouses you, both in ways nothing else has ever really managed to?”

Augen dipped a spring roll in his salsa, and started working on the third drink. Not glancing up from his food, his brows piqued with heavy lids.

“A difficult question. Perhaps a better reply would be another question: Who’re you writing this for?”

‘Choly set down his utensils and stared down his food.

“I’d say it was for me, but I feel like I need to put his ghost to rest. I’d say it was for him, but it’s also in hopes of jamming my brain because something more accurate could exist of him than anything I’ve written of him prior. And I’d... say it was for you, or any of my followers, but I... don’t even know if I can bring myself to post the results.” The dreg sneaked the Confec from his bag and set it beside his plate. “I... I gotta have another slice.”

That got Augen’s attention.

“Mmh. Mind sharing?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

‘Choly sliced through the partial ball a few times with his thumbs against the spine of the knife, and Augen reached over to help himself to one. Wincing at the bitterness, he chewed it up and washed it down with more liquor. 'Choly simply slouched back and let the stringent melt go for a few minutes, thinking it nearly paired with the citrus cubes.

“Cecil knows about us,” Augen began, eyes stitched shut, “but you never did tell Cecil about the Geek, did you? Have you ever wanted to?”

“I told him about Chalcedony. And he may not have said anything, but I know he knows about me an’ the Geek. Can’t not. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how open he is to it all. It’s like he believes leaving me untethered keeps me more faithful. He’s... not wrong, I guess.” ‘Choly looked up when he heard Augen stifle a choke, and suddenly he regretted sharing. His friend’s face was glistening, grey eyes wide. “Are you-- all right?”

“How’s everything tasting so far?” Bert interjected in passing, trying to hide concern when he he paused noticing Augen’s demeanor.

“Don't mind him." 'Choly quickly stashed the Confec back in his bag, unsure whether having it would cause them trouble. "I think something just went down the wrong way.”

The boy frowned at the Augen, who blanched and rubbed at his Adam’s apple a bit. On cue, Augen forced a cough.

“I... It's nothing."

Augen tapped a finger on his glass, not looking to Bert, and the waiter plucked up their empty glasses with a nod and excused himself, shaking his head in delirious incredulity at what had become of their once most troublesome patron.

“Seriously... Are you okay? You know you’re supposed to let that stuff melt slow.”

Rather than reply, the goth took one of ‘Choly’s wristbraced hands in both of his own, and guided it to hold his strained throat. He sustained breathless, tormented eye contact.

“It's wearing off faster than I was planning. Thought for sure I'd at least get to slagging finish eating. I'll... I'll take it.”

On to Part 2 »»»

[oshbluepacific]

Unfaithful Trust / VIII

Type: Angst/Fluff

Character: Jung Hoseok x Reader (MAFIA! AU)

Words Counted: 2K1+

MASTERLIST . ask/request

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - IX - X - XI - XII - XIII - XIV -  XV - XVI - 

[oshbluepacific]

Cold

Type: Fluff

Character: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Words Counted: 1k7+

MASTERLIST

“(Y/N)…” You heard Jin’s raspy voice on the other side of the phone.

You pulled your eyebrows together before you could put your pen down.

“Jin, is something wrong?” You asked worriedly, shifting your position on your chair. Jin let out a rough cough and your body went rigid.

“Can you come over?” He asked, sounding very weak “I need you.”

You looked at the clock that was hanging on your wall. Then you looked at your desk.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible okay? Just have a couple of more things I need to do here.” You told him.

You heard him moan and it just hurt you even more.

“Just, be patient okay? I’ll be there soon.”

 You finished your work as fast as you can and brought some of the work home with you. You stopped by to buy food for Jin before you could make your way to his house.

As you stepped in, it was quiet. Too quiet perhaps.

“Jin…” You called out before you could kick your shoes of and went to the kitchen. You placed the plastic bags of food onto the kitchen counter and decided to wash your hands first. You startled as you spun around as was Jin standing with his baby blue blanked wrapped around him.

“Jin! You scared me!” You gasped, placing your hand on your chest.

He croaked out a laugh before shuffling his steps towards you. You could feel the heat coming from Jin’s body as he walked closer to you. He wrapped his blanket in the both of you before you could feel his burning skin. He buried his face

“Jin, you’re burning up.” You told him.

“Fire….” He continued his song and you rolled your eyes and you both let out a chuckle.

“Jin, you shouldn’t get out of bed.”

“But you called me.”

“I didn’t mean for you to leave the bed!” You smiled, pulling away from his embrace. His face showed a hint of red and weakness. He pushed you away before he let out a rough cough. You then poured him a glass of water as he sat on the dining chair. You helped him drink his water and he held your wrist as he had enough.

“Let’s put you back to bed okay?” You suggested, putting the glass aside.

“Can we just stay on the couch and eat there instead?” He asked.

You looked at him as you thought about his idea.

“Okay, but first, we need to get you out from those clothes.” You told him and he looked down at the grey shirt he was wearing.

“Why?”

“It’s covered in your sweat, come on, let’s get you changed.” you said looping your arm around his as he giggled. You both went up to his bedroom and it felt like you were in the North Pole as you stepped in.

“Jin, it’s freezing in here!” You said, hugging yourself before walking past him to search for the AC remote. You quickly took the remote from his nightstand to turn the AC off.

“I’m sorry, I was sweating.” He defended.

You shook your head before walking closer to him.

“But that’s not the solution Jin.” You said running your hands through his hair before you could walk over to his wardrobe to pick up a fresh pair of t-shirt and sweater.

“Have you taken your shower yet?” You asked, and he shook his head. You bit your bottom lip thinking, that maybe shower isn’t a good idea right not for Jin.

“Let’s just wash your face up first, I don’t think a shower is a great idea right now.” You told him, and he nodded his head. You placed his clothes on his bed before you both walked towards the bathroom together. Taking a small towel from the cabinet, you rinse it with warm water before you could sit on the vanity counter.

“Come here.” You gently command him. He walked over closer to you covering his mouth with his hand. He stood between your thigh and you removed his hand from his mouth with a giggle.

“What happens if I cough?” He asked.

“I don’t mind.” you shrugged as you gently wash his face with the wet towel.

“You’ll get sick.” He pouted.

“I don’t mind, as long as you’re the one who’s taking care of me, I’ll be fine.” You joked and he smiled as he shook his head.

You patted his face gently with the warm towel. He leaned in on your touch as he placed his warm hands on you thighs.

“It’s warm…” He smiled. You then washed his neck before you told him to take his shirt off. He did and threw it into the laundry bin. As you were about to wash his shoulders, you burst out into laughter.

“What?” Jin asked, looking puzzled.

“No, it’s just, I never realized how wide your shoulders are.” You giggled. Jin wiggled his arms causing you to laugh even more as he joined in.

 Right after you were done washing Jin up, You told him to put the clothes you’ve played out for him before you both went back down to the living room. Jin plopped himself on the couch, turning the TV on while you went to the kitchen to grab the food and some drinks.

“Aah… (Y/N), I love you so much!” He said in his raspy voice as you opened one of the container sfor him.

You both enjoyed your meal on the couch, watching Zootopia because you were begging for it. Right after you were done, you cleaned up the mess before getting back on the couch, cuddling Jin in your arms.

One of your friend from work, texted you, asking about you whereabouts. You told her that you had left early and that there was something you need to take care of. The conversation goes on, and Jin noticed that you were starting to get busy with your phone.

“Who are you texting?” He asked.

You looked up to him before smiling back to your phone.

“It’s just a friend from work.” You answered him shortly. “She was just asking about where I am.” You explained.

“You left work for me didn’t you?” Jun asked, guilt was written on his face.

“It’s okay, I was done with my work anyway.” You assured him. “And besides, I can do some of my work at home too.” You smiled.

Jin shook his head, burying his face to your stomach.

“Now I feel guilty.” He said. “You shouldn’t have left work. “

“But I couldn’t just leave you like this.” You smiled at him, but he was still upset.

“You’re important to me Jin, I can’t even work if I know you’re sick.” You told him.

“Then I shouldn’t have called you.” He pointed, looking up at you.

“Then I would get upset, and you’d get even more sick.” You shrugged.

“True though…” He said before he got up and coughed.

“That was bad.” He said.

“I’ll make you some tea okay?”

He nodded his head then you got up to walk over to the kitchen to make Jin some tea.

 You both enjoyed the tea and movie together before Jin placed the mug onto the coffee table and laid his head on your lap.

“Ahh… this feels nice.” He said, his voice sounded better than before.

“You feeling any better?” You said, softly brung your fingers in his hair.

“Everything is always better if it’s with you.” He said, blowing you a kiss and you burst out laughing.

“You’re such a dork.” You giggled.

“Yeah, but you love me anyways.” He said, shifting his body so he could watch the movie again.

 As the movie ended, you let out a yawn before you could look at your watch on your wrist.

17.24

You stretched your arms up before you could feel you that you really need to go to the bathroom.

You looked down to Jin who was fast sleep. His head on your lap, watching his chest rise up and down as he breathes. You smiled, just by looking how soft and calm he was.

“Jin…” You whispered as you run your fingers through his hair.

He eyes slowly fluttered open before he let out a yawn and smile.

“I fell asleep.” He said in a gruff voice.

“Yeah, and I really need to go to the bathroom.” You said, leaning your face down so you were just inches apart.

“Oh, okay.” He said before you pulled back and let him sat up on the couch. But he then leaned his head on the back couch, feeling like the room was spinning.

“You okay?” You asked worried.

“I’m fine, the room was just spinning a bit.” He gave you an assuring smile before you rushed towards the bathroom.

 When you walked out from the bathroom, the living room was empty and the TV was off. So you want upstairs to Jin’s room to find him on his bed. His head tuned up as he heard your coming in and he quickly sat up on his bed.

“Come here.” He said opening his arms. You looked at him confused before shaking your head with a giggle. You claimed on the bed and he pulled you into his arms by surprise. Rolling over so you were laying on top of him.

“Jin!”

“I love you, you know that right?” He asked. You looked at his eyes and it was filled with love and tenderness. You nodded your head before you could lean in to kiss his lips.

“(Y/N), noo!”He cried.

“Why? I want to kiss you!” You pouted.

“I don’t want you to get sick too!” He stated.

“Can I just have one kiss? Please Mr. Worldwide Handsome?” You teased.

He laughed as you said his other name before he placed his hands between your face.

“Ah, (Y/N), I love you so much.” He said before giving you a quick peck.

You then smiled sheepishly before you screamed in embarrassment and buried your face on his neck.

 You both spent the rest of the day joking around, sharing laughs and drink warm tea on bed—and of course, cuddling.

Even though Jin is sick, in his own ways, he could spoil you and still treat you like his one and only princess.

[crown-eater]

Fluoridated Urethane Crisis Kismet

The world was beginning to fluoresce into wounds. Uptake Table of Contents

“--And here, you see?”

‘Choly held out his reader across the coffee shop table from his boyfriend, to show a bad quality photo from a security camera. The scrawny, bespectacled punk retracted it shortly after and huffed, doing a split-screen to pull up a different bad quality photo side to side, and re-offered it. In one photo, a figure in a dull hoodie with the hood drawn glanced behind him with the intent to steal a jug of fabric softener. In the other, a figure in a long dark grey coat lined at every seam with reflective straps had a slicked back undercut and one eye.

“Photo of the Geek in the Level 5 Greeley’s last year. And a still from one of last week’s EPA press conferences. The specialist’s the Geek! No way that isn’t him.”

The typical soft cyan ambiance of charged Wolfram concrete surrounded them at their window table. Cecil shifted in his seat, and looking into his lidless pumpkin spice latte, his tattoo-sleeved arms rested his weight against the tabletop. He pursed his snakebitten lips tight together, and began to rub at his forearms. An observer wouldn’t think the two had a thing in common, down to looking like they came from entirely different decades. ‘Choly was the openly obsessive one, androgynous with long dark bangtails and a dayglow goth-punk sensibility, porting all manner of splints and braces. Cecil had about him a tailored rockabilly vibe, sporting a brassy short pompadour with a roll-cuffed button-down, suspenders, and drainpipe trousers. Just as much, Cecil didn’t want to find correlation in those two photos presented to him. He didn’t like the supposition that this mystery figure was the Supermarket Geek. But, he couldn’t deny shared features.

“I still don’t know how that busted-up six-year-old reader even connects to the Web...”

“Why’re you always raggin’ on it?” ‘Choly unscrewed the handle of his cane beside him and surreptitiously slipped out one of the vials of vodka inside it, to doctor his black coffee. He sipped it down a bit to make more room, then grinned to himself as he put the tippling cane back together. “I told ya before why I hadn’t upgraded. Does everything I need it to. Like show you photographic evidence I’m right.”

Cecil’s brow knitted at the device in front of him, trying to overlook that his date was sneaking alcohol in a place that didn’t serve any.

“You know, I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but...”

“What?” The steam on ‘Choly’s circle-frame glasses vanished as he lurched nearer with a saccharine smile. “Y’know something about that ‘specialist’?”

“Sort of. How do I even put this? A lot of what I do isn’t just working on the equipment and tagging content in the Hub. It’s helping people research stuff. Showing them how to navigate information on the Web. It’s a lot of that, Central has most of the city’s servers. And there was a guy last year, he... came in asking about radiation poisoning. He was real upset, and in the process of trying to determine what kind of information he needed, I said something that made him just blurt out that he’d been in proximity to that... that blob thing. The thing that wrecked that chemical factory last year.”

“That thing was radioactive--!” The awkward nerd clapped a metal-stayed hand to his mouth realizing his volume, worried to disturb the other patrons. “That thing was radioactive? What put the specialist someplace to run into the mutant thing? The,” he mentally lapsed a moment, hung up on the word, viscously phlegmatic, “the larva. It... reminds me of a grub worm.”

“...You are obsessed with insects.”

“I know.” Another sniff, this time more to stifle mental wilding. “...Imagining it as a larva, I’ve always wondered what it-- might have turned into--”

“--Just let me finish.” The exact opposite, Cecil thought to himself, if only you’d let me finish. He leaned in and dropped his voice. “The blob thing had hid after busting up the factory, and as an off-duty cop, the guy trailed it hoping to get the authorities involved if necessary. But it turns out, the blob wasn’t just sentient, it was human. Was. And the way he put it, it was in pain like a lion with a thorn. Lots of thorns. But the swelled up masses started vanishing right in front of this guy. The thing was excreting metal from its skin, but it was having trouble and cried out for the guy to help it pry off the metal. The stuff hardened in sheets. Like a shell, I think he said. Soon the thing wasn’t swollen up anymore, and looked just like it could’ve been a teenager. It wasn’t until it was near-incapacitated afterward, just laying there exhausted, that it told the guy he’d helped it get half a ton of raw technetium out of its body barehanded.”

The librarian sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh, and partook in his coffee while it was still hot. The obvious mental pause drove ‘Choly insane. But after such an info bomb, the dreg’s bursting brain seized up and couldn’t just rattle off every question imaginable--so he gave his date the time to form the punchline to these grotesque descriptions.

“So yeah, ah. Of course the cop went to the doctor about it, but he couldn’t stop insisting in a post-traumatic fugue that it wasn’t the kid’s fault. Wouldn’t elaborate what that meant, but he insisted he knew the kid meant no harm because he’s spoken to him. So this guy’s a cop, and he’s had a few run-ins with the Supermarket Geek on his beat. ...That’s the same kid. And that ‘specialist.’”

‘Choly paled in horror as he adjoined all the facts Cecil had just set out before him. In a ragged mental loop, beneath the table, he pressed and dragged a finger against the copper metallic leggings exposed through the holes in his ripped skinny jeans. He unstuck to grab the reader and open the video of the EPA conference he’d snapped the still from. A woman with dark complexion, in hazmat gear minus the headwear, stood in the middle of a cordoned off and heavily protected street, with a handful of EPA employees behind her.

“E-cycling will not halt during this crisis. There is no threat to human life, so long as appropriate caution is taken. Our remediation efforts for this Super Fund will not impact city life, though it is strongly advised that citizens not sight-see the disaster and respect the quarantine lines. The Agency--”

He skipped forward to where the press had begun asking questions.

“--dition to the dozens of engineers and environmental technicians we have at our employ, we also have a specialist on site.”

“Miss Bensington, is that the specialist there, behind you?”

An assortment of figures stood alongside her, but a few feet behind her stood a small, tailored silhouette which only in spirit felt like one could call it hazmat suiting. The figure visibly recoiled and drew the neon chartreuse hood which did not match the coat, and turned his face away the instant he could tell the live Web footage cameras had zeroed in on him.

“We have the finest on hand for this monumental undertaking. Our methods may prove a bit unorthodox, but the potential for catastrophe demands it.”

He rewound the clip to the half second right before the figure grew too camera-shy. He paused and stared at that face.

“The Geek’s... a meta...”

‘Choly had always struggled to hide his abrupt bouts of sexual heaviness in public settings, and here it escaped him in tone and in the choked exhalation which followed it. Metahumans were no longer some mere tabloid myth, cemented before him in reality by a circumstance of federal proximity. In his own city, where a radiochemical disaster was unfolding right beneath them all. His ragged unsteady breathing stifled him, and his hollow glare remained transfixed upon the reader screen at length.

"--How long have you known? I’ve been goin’ on about the Fulton Mass for months now.”

“I think it was August last year. I told the cop I wouldn’t tell anyone. And now, I don’t know if I like the idea of the EPA employing the Geek, if they’re calling him their specialist.”

Cecil almost shot off that he shouldn’t have said anything, in a playful jab at the reaction he’d elicited, but a woman approached them from behind ‘Choly and beat him to it.

“And just what do you know about the Geek, or the EPA?”

The heavyset Indian woman, wearing lavender makeup and business casual attire, with her bun in snood combs, stood behind ‘Choly with fatigue locking her gaze on Cecil. She held in her hand a frozen green tea. Cecil could see the woman’s federal ID badge clipped to her sweater.

“I don’t understand the question.”

“His name is Galen, you know. Galen Miner. And though he may no longer be human, he’s still a person.” She made a roundabout gesture with her drink before taking a sip. “Do you know why people call him the Geek? Because they think he’s a freak show. But he doesn’t eat chicken heads. He’s not a hybrid.”

“So you have hired him on with the EPA.” At Cecil’s comment, ‘Choly scrambled about face to put the voice to the figure, dumbstruck that this was the woman from the press conference.

“What he does eat is invaluable to us at a time like this.”

Unable to contain himself, 'Choly garnered Bensington’s line of sight.

“You’re feedin’ him the Quarter.”

“Galen’s an unfortunate case, but that’s nothing compared to the others.”

“--Others--” ‘Choly’s voice cracked unbearably, and he forced his legs crossed under the table and glared at Cecil, who glared right back at him, for some sort of mutual mental grounding. “O, others?”

“If you’ve been keeping up with the news about the disaster, you’ll recall how the affected Stalkers that have sought medical provisions keep getting turned away? It wasn’t their lack of documentation that denied them care. Medical training does not currently exist for what is happening to them.”

Fighting how this information affected him dulled his distracted eyes, and he trembled. The last thing he needed was to hear he was right about the chemical leaching at Level 1, but it was absolutely the first thing his degenerate brain begged to hear. He presumed she meant exposure to the chemical had reinvented the Geek. Though he failed at length to form a response, the look on his face said everything.

Cecil asked what he knew ‘Choly couldn’t spit out:

“What’s causing all this?”

Bensington shrugged and did her best to ignore ‘Choly’s demeanor.

“We aren’t entirely certain yet. We just know it’s extensive, and it’s not isolated. ...It’s late. You’re smart, the both of you. Nearly too smart. Putting two and two together, figuring out the correlation. You especially, young man.” She shook a finger at Cecil, then she set down her drink long enough to produce a business card from her cross-body back and scrawl on the back of it. “I could use some civilian input on all this. Until we get a chance to talk more in depth, I can’t have you mentioning this conversation to anyone, not even that it happened. But, if you could call me... Tuesday next week. Ten in the morning or so. Perhaps we could contrast anything Tri-City natives would notice against the Agency’s current comprehension of the situation.”

Cecil stared at the card as she handed it to him and picked her drink back up.

“Sure. Yeah.”

“I truly appreciate it--”

“Cecil.”

“Yes.” She nodded knowingly. “Cecil, I appreciate it. Truly. If you’ll excuse me, though. Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you’ll have a good evening.”

‘Choly sputtered as she left the coffee shop. Her offhand comment regarding his perceived gender had left him stupid. The slight burned almost as badly as not having had the luxury of learning more, and only knowing Cecil would speak to here again, soon, calmed his nerves.

“Sorry about that,” Cecil started.

“You’re sorry?” ‘Choly waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. Every shoe I own would’a been in my mouth by the end of it, if I’d been able to say and ask everything on my mind.” Feeling small, he nursed at his cheater’s black russian and looked up to his boyfriend, who now stared off into the room. “...You really gonna call her? Sounds like she thinks you really know a lot about this.” I really want you to tell me more. Everything you know. You have to.

“Dunno, I should.”

“Probably.” ‘Choly could tell Cecil didn’t want to talk about the Geek anymore at this point. With a detached sniff, he grasped for a momentary change of subject, and dove into the first thing that came to mind. “Cecil. Been tryin’ to build up the nerve to ask about it, bringing up the EPA video earlier. I... need your help. I’m havin’... a bit of trouble.”

Still fidgeting with the business card, Cecil shifted back in his seat, consternation mashing his brows together. From the conversation up to then, it was easy to speculate this kind of trouble might involve the law.

“I’m a librarian, not a magician, Melanochro. What makes you think I could help?”

“It’s money. Sort of. My money, any rate. My landlady’s evicting me if I don’t pay off my back rent by the end of the month. And before you go thinking I’m askin’ you to help me with my bills, that’s not even the thing.”

This offered Cecil no improved reassurance. ‘Choly swallowed, and continued.

“We’ve been... we’ve been going out for what, six months now? As it is, I spend a lotta time at your apartment, n’you at mine. It’d be cool if I...” Suddenly, words didn’t work, and he let his needful glance speak for him.

“Your job hasn’t been paying enough for you to afford the micro-apartment?”

“You say ‘your job’ like bein’ a sorter’s anything consistent.” The dreg laughed in weak anxiety. “By the time I moved out of my dad’s place, I’d started trying to be a little more proactive with my sorter’s skills. Bein’ a sorter doesn’t pay too much, but hacker intel? I’ve always tried to be savvy with what I put my hands on, before I scrapped it down to raw materials. The most recent thing I came across netted me a hundred-fifty, but that was a year ago. The sorter’s scene has been so dry for lucrative component handlin’, and you know my health doesn’t really allow for me resorting to truffling. Seekin’ stuff out on my own... I’m down to my last twenty creds. Last paid my landlady in June.”

“You should have told me sooner you were struggling so bad.” Cecil flopped down the card and looked at him with a square serenity. “I like having you there at my place. I don’t see why not. And you know what...” He trailed off a moment while he assessed logistics. “It wouldn’t be such a physically taxing thing, if you were to get a job at the library. I could pull some strings and get you working in physical copies with me.”

On the one hand, it relieved ‘Choly not to have met objection, but Cecil’s next logical step only served to chew the dreg up. In his mind, he was failing to keep face with this lovely guy he’d been seeing for months. Cecil had thought of ‘Choly as some exciting and mysterious element of danger in his life. ‘Choly admitting all he had, how not on top of everything he really was, it devastated the dreg. And the part that he had to disclose next, he squirmed.

“I, I don’t. I haven’t got papers. No social. Don’t you need that stuff to get a city job?”

“I could... tell Dave I’ve got it all taken care of, just need his clearance. I know you’re good for it. You’re smart, and for how glued to your reader you are, I know you love books--actual books. I’ve been begging him for over a year to find me somebody to help me in physical copies, to be honest.” Cecil smiled. “Somebody as passionate about it as I am.”

“You’d... do that for me?”

“I love you. I want you to be safe... and, well. Ok. I want you to be ok. And from what you’ve told me, you’re not doing ok. I think things will work out great. We’ll get you back on your feet.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

Entirely true, though multiply-so. In order to have a safe place to live, he’d have to give this job offer a shot. Moving back in with either of his parents simply wasn’t an option.

“Say you’ll let me take you out for lunch tomorrow. We’ll talk about getting your place packed up, storage options, all that. Ice-99 sound good?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Bensington was right.” Cecil glanced at the card again to make sure he’d remembered the name. “It’s getting late. How about we cut out and call it a night? You’re free to crash at my place. You are moving in, after all.”

‘Choly took a hard swig of his black coffee, letting the vodka burn his nerves.

“I was... thinking more that we could go back to my place. Get an idea of what I actually need to bring with me.”

“You know more books always have a place in my apartment. And if you’re talking about that mountain of clothing by your bed, I’m sure we can figure something out.” The two exchanged a laugh, the tension softening as Cecil traced a finger against the back of one of ‘Choly’s wrist-braced hands. “I’m good with that.”

“Let me...” ‘Choly knocked back the last third of his drink. “Let me get a refill, and we can get out of here.”

“Room or no room?” Cecil ribbed as ‘Choly used his cane to get to the counter.

[the-uptake]

Fluoridated Urethane Crisis Kismet

The Uptake, The world was beginning to fluoresce into wounds. Chapter 1.

You see what I did there.

“–And here, you see?”

‘Choly held out his reader across the coffee shop table from his boyfriend, to show a bad quality photo from a security camera. The scrawny, bespectacled punk retracted it shortly after and huffed, doing a split-screen to pull up a different bad quality photo side to side, and re-offered it. In one photo, a figure in a dull hoodie with the hood drawn glanced behind him with the intent to steal a jug of fabric softener. In the other, a figure in a long dark grey coat lined at every seam with reflective straps had a slicked back undercut and one eye.

“Photo of the Geek in the Level 5 Greeley’s last year. And a still from one of last week’s EPA press conferences. The specialist’s the Geek! No way that isn’t him.”

The typical soft cyan ambiance of charged Wolfram concrete surrounded them at their window table. Cecil shifted in his seat, and looking into his lidless pumpkin spice latte, his tattoo-sleeved arms rested his weight against the tabletop. He pursed his snakebitten lips tight together, and began to rub at his forearms. An observer wouldn’t think the two had a thing in common, down to looking like they came from entirely different decades. ‘Choly was the openly obsessive one, androgynous with long dark bangtails and a dayglow goth-punk sensibility, porting all manner of splints and braces. Cecil had about him a tailored rockabilly vibe, sporting a brassy short pompadour with a roll-cuffed button-down, suspenders, and drainpipe trousers. Just as much, Cecil didn’t want to find correlation in those two photos presented to him. He didn’t like the supposition that this mystery figure was the Supermarket Geek. But, he couldn’t deny shared features.

“I still don’t know how that busted-up six-year-old reader even connects to the Web…”

“Why’re you always raggin’ on it?” ‘Choly unscrewed the handle of his cane beside him and surreptitiously slipped out one of the vials of vodka inside it, to doctor his black coffee. He sipped it down a bit to make more room, then grinned to himself as he put the tippling cane back together. “I told ya before why I hadn’t upgraded. Does everything I need it to. Like show you photographic evidence I’m right.”

Cecil’s brow knitted at the device in front of him, trying to overlook that his date was sneaking alcohol in a place that didn’t serve any.

“You know, I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but…”

“What?” The steam on ‘Choly’s circle-frame glasses vanished as he lurched nearer with a saccharine smile. “Y’know something about that ‘specialist’?”

“Sort of. How do I even put this? A lot of what I do isn’t just working on the equipment and tagging content in the Hub. It’s helping people research stuff. Showing them how to navigate information on the Web. It’s a lot of that, Central has most of the city’s servers. And there was a guy last year, he… came in asking about radiation poisoning. He was real upset, and in the process of trying to determine what kind of information he needed, I said something that made him just blurt out that he’d been in proximity to that… that blob thing. The thing that wrecked that chemical factory last year.”

“That thing was radioactive–!” The awkward nerd clapped a metal-stayed hand to his mouth realizing his volume, worried to disturb the other patrons. “That thing was radioactive? What put the specialist someplace to run into the mutant thing? The,” he mentally lapsed a moment, hung up on the word, viscously phlegmatic, “the larva. It… reminds me of a grub worm.”

“…You are obsessed with insects.”

“I know.” Another sniff, this time more to stifle mental wilding. “…Imagining it as a larva, I’ve always wondered what it– might have turned into–”

“–Just let me finish.” The exact opposite, Cecil thought to himself, if only you’d let me finish. He leaned in and dropped his voice. “The blob thing had hid after busting up the factory, and as an off-duty cop, the guy trailed it hoping to get the authorities involved if necessary. But it turns out, the blob wasn’t just sentient, it was human. Was. And the way he put it, it was in pain like a lion with a thorn. Lots of thorns. But the swelled up masses started vanishing right in front of this guy. The thing was excreting metal from its skin, but it was having trouble and cried out for the guy to help it pry off the metal. The stuff hardened in sheets. Like a shell, I think he said. Soon the thing wasn’t swollen up anymore, and looked just like it could’ve been a teenager. It wasn’t until it was near-incapacitated afterward, just laying there exhausted, that it told the guy he’d helped it get half a ton of raw technetium out of its body barehanded.”

The librarian sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh, and partook in his coffee while it was still hot. The obvious mental pause drove ‘Choly insane. But after such an info bomb, the dreg’s bursting brain seized up and couldn’t just rattle off every question imaginable–so he gave his date the time to form the punchline to these grotesque descriptions.

“So yeah, ah. Of course the cop went to the doctor about it, but he couldn’t stop insisting in a post-traumatic fugue that it wasn’t the kid’s fault. Wouldn’t elaborate what that meant, but he insisted he knew the kid meant no harm because he’s spoken to him. So this guy’s a cop, and he’s had a few run-ins with the Supermarket Geek on his beat. …That’s the same kid. And that ‘specialist.’”

‘Choly paled in horror as he adjoined all the facts Cecil had just set out before him. In a ragged mental loop, beneath the table, he pressed and dragged a finger against the copper metallic leggings exposed through the holes in his ripped skinny jeans. He unstuck to grab the reader and open the video of the EPA conference he’d snapped the still from. A woman with dark complexion, in hazmat gear minus the headwear, stood in the middle of a cordoned off and heavily protected street, with a handful of EPA employees behind her.

“E-cycling will not halt during this crisis. There is no threat to human life, so long as appropriate caution is taken. Our remediation efforts for this Super Fund will not impact city life, though it is strongly advised that citizens not sight-see the disaster and respect the quarantine lines. The Agency–”

He skipped forward to where the press had begun asking questions.

“–dition to the dozens of engineers and environmental technicians we have at our employ, we also have a specialist on site.”

“Miss Bensington, is that the specialist there, behind you?”

An assortment of figures stood alongside her, but a few feet behind her stood a small, tailored silhouette which only in spirit felt like one could call it hazmat suiting. The figure visibly recoiled and drew the neon chartreuse hood which did not match the coat, and turned his face away the instant he could tell the live Web footage cameras had zeroed in on him.

“We have the finest on hand for this monumental undertaking. Our methods may prove a bit unorthodox, but the potential for catastrophe demands it.”

He rewound the clip to the half second right before the figure grew too camera-shy. He paused and stared at that face.

“The Geek’s… a meta…”

‘Choly had always struggled to hide his abrupt bouts of sexual heaviness in public settings, and here it escaped him in tone and in the choked exhalation which followed it. Metahumans were no longer some mere tabloid myth, cemented before him in reality by a circumstance of federal proximity. In his own city, where a radiochemical disaster was unfolding right beneath them all. His ragged unsteady breathing stifled him, and his hollow glare remained transfixed upon the reader screen at length.

“–How long have you known? I’ve been goin’ on about the Fulton Mass for months now.”

“I think it was August last year. I told the cop I wouldn’t tell anyone. And now, I don’t know if I like the idea of the EPA employing the Geek, if they’re calling him their specialist.”

Cecil almost shot off that he shouldn’t have said anything, in a playful jab at the reaction he’d elicited, but a woman approached them from behind ‘Choly and beat him to it.

“And just what do you know about the Geek, or the EPA?”

The heavyset Indian woman, wearing lavender makeup and business casual attire, with her bun in snood combs, stood behind ‘Choly with fatigue locking her gaze on Cecil. She held in her hand a frozen green tea. Cecil could see the woman’s federal ID badge clipped to her sweater.

“I don’t understand the question.”

“His name is Galen, you know. Galen Miner. And though he may no longer be human, he’s still a person.” She made a roundabout gesture with her drink before taking a sip. “Do you know why people call him the Geek? Because they think he’s a freak show. But he doesn’t eat chicken heads. He’s not a hybrid.”

“So you have hired him on with the EPA.” At Cecil’s comment, ‘Choly scrambled about face to put the voice to the figure, dumbstruck that this was the woman from the press conference.

“What he does eat is invaluable to us at a time like this.”

Unable to contain himself, ‘Choly garnered Bensington’s line of sight.

“You’re feedin’ him the Quarter.”

“Galen’s an unfortunate case, but that’s nothing compared to the others.”

“–Others–” ‘Choly’s voice cracked unbearably, and he forced his legs crossed under the table and glared at Cecil, who glared right back at him, for some sort of mutual mental grounding. “O, others?”

“If you’ve been keeping up with the news about the disaster, you’ll recall how the affected Stalkers that have sought medical provisions keep getting turned away? It wasn’t their lack of documentation that denied them care. Medical training does not currently exist for what is happening to them.”

Fighting how this information affected him dulled his distracted eyes, and he trembled. The last thing he needed was to hear he was right about the chemical leaching at Level 1, but it was absolutely the first thing his degenerate brain begged to hear. He presumed she meant exposure to the chemical had reinvented the Geek. Though he failed at length to form a response, the look on his face said everything.

Cecil asked what he knew ‘Choly couldn’t spit out:

“What’s causing all this?”

Bensington shrugged and did her best to ignore ‘Choly’s demeanor.

“We aren’t entirely certain yet. We just know it’s extensive, and it’s not isolated. …It’s late. You’re smart, the both of you. Nearly too smart. Putting two and two together, figuring out the correlation. You especially, young man.” She shook a finger at Cecil, then she set down her drink long enough to produce a business card from her cross-body back and scrawl on the back of it. “I could use some civilian input on all this. Until we get a chance to talk more in depth, I can’t have you mentioning this conversation to anyone, not even that it happened. But, if you could call me… Tuesday next week. Ten in the morning or so. Perhaps we could contrast anything Tri-City natives would notice against the Agency’s current comprehension of the situation.”

Cecil stared at the card as she handed it to him and picked her drink back up.

“Sure. Yeah.”

“I truly appreciate it–”

“Cecil.”

“Yes.” She nodded knowingly. “Cecil, I appreciate it. Truly. If you’ll excuse me, though. Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you’ll have a good evening.”

‘Choly sputtered as she left the coffee shop. Her offhand comment regarding his perceived gender had left him stupid. The slight burned almost as badly as not having had the luxury of learning more, and only knowing Cecil would speak to here again, soon, calmed his nerves.

“Sorry about that,” Cecil started.

“You’re sorry?” ‘Choly waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. Every shoe I own would’a been in my mouth by the end of it, if I’d been able to say and ask everything on my mind.” Feeling small, he nursed at his cheater’s black russian and looked up to his boyfriend, who now stared off into the room. “…You really gonna call her? Sounds like she thinks you really know a lot about this.” I really want you to tell me more. Everything you know. You have to.

“Dunno, I should.”

“Probably.” ‘Choly could tell Cecil didn’t want to talk about the Geek anymore at this point. With a detached sniff, he grasped for a momentary change of subject, and dove into the first thing that came to mind. “Cecil. Been tryin’ to build up the nerve to ask about it, bringing up the EPA video earlier. I… need your help. I’m havin’… a bit of trouble.”

Still fidgeting with the business card, Cecil shifted back in his seat, consternation mashing his brows together. From the conversation up to then, it was easy to speculate this kind of trouble might involve the law.

“I’m a librarian, not a magician, Melanochro. What makes you think I could help?”

“It’s money. Sort of. My money, any rate. My landlady’s evicting me if I don’t pay off my back rent by the end of the month. And before you go thinking I’m askin’ you to help me with my bills, that’s not even the thing.”

This offered Cecil no improved reassurance. ‘Choly swallowed, and continued.

“We’ve been… we’ve been going out for what, six months now? As it is, I spend a lotta time at your apartment, n’you at mine. It’d be cool if I…” Suddenly, words didn’t work, and he let his needful glance speak for him.

“Your job hasn’t been paying enough for you to afford the micro-apartment?”

“You say ‘your job’ like bein’ a sorter’s anything consistent.” The dreg laughed in weak anxiety. “By the time I moved out of my dad’s place, I’d started trying to be a little more proactive with my sorter’s skills. Bein’ a sorter doesn’t pay too much, but hacker intel? I’ve always tried to be savvy with what I put my hands on, before I scrapped it down to raw materials. The most recent thing I came across netted me a hundred-fifty, but that was a year ago. The sorter’s scene has been so dry for lucrative component handlin’, and you know my health doesn’t really allow for me resorting to truffling. Seekin’ stuff out on my own… I’m down to my last twenty creds. Last paid my landlady in June.”

“You should have told me sooner you were struggling so bad.” Cecil flopped down the card and looked at him with a square serenity. “I like having you there at my place. I don’t see why not. And you know what…” He trailed off a moment while he assessed logistics. “It wouldn’t be such a physically taxing thing, if you were to get a job at the library. I could pull some strings and get you working in physical copies with me.”

On the one hand, it relieved ‘Choly not to have met objection, but Cecil’s next logical step only served to chew the dreg up. In his mind, he was failing to keep face with this lovely guy he’d been seeing for months. Cecil had thought of ‘Choly as some exciting and mysterious element of danger in his life. ‘Choly admitting all he had, how not on top of everything he really was, it devastated the dreg. And the part that he had to disclose next, he squirmed.

“I, I don’t. I haven’t got papers. No social. Don’t you need that stuff to get a city job?”

“I could… tell Dave I’ve got it all taken care of, just need his clearance. I know you’re good for it. You’re smart, and for how glued to your reader you are, I know you love books–actual books. I’ve been begging him for over a year to find me somebody to help me in physical copies, to be honest.” Cecil smiled. “Somebody as passionate about it as I am.”

“You’d… do that for me?”

“I love you. I want you to be safe… and, well. Ok. I want you to be ok. And from what you’ve told me, you’re not doing ok. I think things will work out great. We’ll get you back on your feet.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

Entirely true, though multiply-so. In order to have a safe place to live, he’d have to give this job offer a shot. Moving back in with either of his parents simply wasn’t an option.

“Say you’ll let me take you out for lunch tomorrow. We’ll talk about getting your place packed up, storage options, all that. Ice-99 sound good?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Bensington was right.” Cecil glanced at the card again to make sure he’d remembered the name. “It’s getting late. How about we cut out and call it a night? You’re free to crash at my place. You are moving in, after all.”

‘Choly took a hard swig of his black coffee, letting the vodka burn his nerves.

“I was… thinking more that we could go back to my place. Get an idea of what I actually need to bring with me.”

“You know more books always have a place in my apartment. And if you’re talking about that mountain of clothing by your bed, I’m sure we can figure something out.” The two exchanged a laugh, the tension softening as Cecil traced a finger against the back of one of ‘Choly’s wrist-braced hands. “I’m good with that.”

“Let me…” ‘Choly knocked back the last third of his drink. “Let me get a refill, and we can get out of here.”

“Room or no room?” Cecil ribbed as ‘Choly used his cane to get to the counter.