#barely any show makes it past three seasons anymore

[aerilune]

THEY CANCELLED SHADOW AND BONE!!!!! I AM FUCKING FOAMING AT THE MOUTH WITH RAGE!!!!!!!!!!!!! We'll never get the six of crows plot which what everyone was most excited to see!!!!! They were going to make so much money literally what the fuck is wrong with those execs???? We could have got our crow content, they could have made millions like?!?!? (I know that's all they care about) I would kill to see that wonderful cast performing the ice court heist I would sell my soul to finally see the crows all together my disappointment is immeasurable I'm sobbing

[pumpkinandcoat]

My TUA4 thoughts

Its been a week now since the final season premiered and I have finally been able to compile all my thought together

This is an essay.

Spoilers for season 4 of The Umbrella Academy

(obviously)

With the fourth and final installment of The Umbrella Academy finally released, brings the long awaited conclusion of the Hargreeves family. And suffice to say… people hated it.

Even when this show is at its weakest with its plot, the thing that makes the show so good and what many people love about the show are its characters. They are all very distinct and memorable. And in TUA3, while it's riddled with plot holes and frustrating choices, is still a lot of fun to watch because of the character moments and the relationships between the different siblings.

That is why TUA4 is so infuriating, because it takes these special and memorable characters and it morphs them into these weird versions of themselves. Every single main character falls victim to this. They regress as characters into these versions of themselves that shouldn’t exist anymore.

Luther has become a stripper. His arc has almost no dignity from the get go. This only very loosely connects with his arc in TUA2 where he works at a bar, but as a bodyman and not as a ‘professional dancer’ so as to why the writers chose to make him a stripper is weird. He has returned to live in a run down version of the academy. There is no follow up on Sloane and he mentions her only one or twice in the whole season.

Diego is somewhat resentful of fatherhood, and he misses his old life of excitement when he was a vigilante. He is unhappy with his life and he seeks the higher purpose that he thinks being a criminal deterrent will give him.

Allison yearns again to be a star and neglects her relationship with Claire in the pursuit to regain her fame. 

Klaus, as soon as he regains his power, turns back to drugs. There is no attempt for him to hold onto his sobriety, even though as we see in TUA2 and TUA3 he is (mostly) sober for three years with his powers fully intact. We don’t even get a scene of him struggling with the ghosts coming back to haunt him before he is off to go buy drugs, and then he becomes a victim to sex trafficking. 

Five’s working at the CIA. After a lifetime of hardship and struggle, after he is forced into organizations where he has to complete different missions - first as a child with Reginald in the academy, and later as an adult with the commission - and after he is ready to retire at the end of TUA3, he joins into another organization instead.

Viktor moves away to Canada and is again isolated from his siblings and alone. Shown to have no lasting and meaningful relationships in his personal life.

Every single character is reverted back to an old version of themselves that they have grown from by now. The writers strip them of all of their character growth and substance and reset them to their base characteristics. Worse than that they write them as stereotypes that they are portrayed as at the beginning of the show, in which they are shown to be more than just those stereotypes and have at this point for a lot of them grown from them all together. They are now reduced back to them but without any of the nuance or layers that they had before, and again stripping them of all of their character growth and personality. 

The writers absolutely refuse to let these characters grow in meaningful and satisfying ways.

The relationships between these characters as well are also poorly written. Many of the strong relationships we see in the past seasons barely have interactions with each other, such as Klaus and Five, Diego and Klaus, Allison and Viktor to name a few. With Allison and Viktor we only really have one meaningful scene between them where they talk about how they aren’t close anymore and then there is no further discussion or resolution between the two. And with many others at best they get fleeting minor interactions where they maybe exchange one line or comment. Then there’s the characters who we’ve been waiting to interact for a long time, like Five and Claire, where in the first season Five expresses his desire to live long enough to meet his niece but in season 4 we don’t see them interact even once.

But by far the most insulting relationship is the one between Lila and Five and Diego. 

Two fucking words: Character Assassination.

The way that they wrote Five in this season is so completely baffling. Because the writers felt the need to give Five a love interest this season they decided to pair Lila and Five up and in doing so they destroy both Five and Lilas character, and the dynamic between Five and Lila, Five and Diego, and Diego and Lila.

There are two faucets as to why this relationship doesn’t work: the in-show context and the real life implications of the pairing.

In-show: Five and Lilas relationship hinges on the fact that they are stranded together on the subway for 7 years, unable to get back to their families. In the second to last episode of the entire show they are taken away from the rest of the characters to be put in this pocket dimension for the sole purpose to develop a romantic relationship between the two of them. 

For Lila as well, but especially for Five this makes no sense for their characters and butchers everything they represent and everything they stand for. Fives' driving force for his whole character is his family. Everything that Five does, every action that he takes, everything that he endures and pushes himself though, is for his family. His family's safety and survival matter more to him than his own physical, mental and emotional well being. They are the only people in the whole world that Five cares about.

Five survives 40 years in the apocalypse, with abysmal chances to get out, where any normal person would kill themselves, Five endures for the miniscule chance to get back and save his family. He spends years working for the commission, killing hundreds of people, after being the only surviving person on earth for 4 decades, to buy time so he can get back to his family. Five spends 45 years trying to claw his way back to his family. And when he does make it back to them, Five spends 28 straight days trying to prevent three different apocalypses across three different timelines so his family would live.

After 7 years on the subway Five gives up on getting back his family, and when he discovers a way back he keeps it a secret, even when he knows they are facing the apocalypse and certain death again? It doesn’t make sense for his character at all. Yes, he was tired at the end of TUA3 and was ready to lay down and die with his family by his side, but that was again after three failed attempts at preventing the apocalypse in a very short period of time. He also isn’t with his family, separated and isolated once again.

In terms of Five and Lilas relationship - It doesn’t make sense for Five, whose sole driving force throughout the entire show is his family, to turn around and betray his brother by engaging in a relationship with his wife. 

The dynamic between Five and Lila throughout the seasons has progressed from enemies to begrudging allies to a close friendship between the two, a progression that could not have happened without Diego. At the end of TUA2 and the start of TUA3 these two hate each other's guts, but because they both love Diego they are willing to put their shit aside and be somewhat amicable. Then, because they also both have a connection through the commission they team up and to go back and investigate and it's here where they can move past their past and are able to slowly form a friendship.

Yes, they are very similar characters and they have a unique bond. They can understand each other in a way none of the others can, because of their unique experiences at the commission and as being used as tools of The Handler. But this doesn’t mean they are suited for each other romantically and in fact is exactly why they aren’t. They both have deep trust issues, paranoia, and a kind of bitterness towards the world because of their experiences. With Lila and Diego, the reason that they work so well is because Diego's trusting nature and goodwill in people shows Lila that she can open herself up to people and to trust and love.

And the showrunners take all of this characterization, all of the love and devotion and the deep bonds between these characters and they throw it away because they wanted to give Five a love story. In the second to last episode of the entire series we see a three minute montage of Five and Lila on the subway for 7 years, and then three scenes of them in the greenhouse before they return back to the main time.

The writers destroy these characters and destroy these relationships for 15 minutes of screentime.

There is no resolution to this plotline. There is no reconciliation or understanding about what happened. Lila dies on dubious terms with both Diego and Five. Five and Diego die hating each other.

In real life: The actor who plays Five, Aidan Gallagher, was a minor during the filming of TUA1/2/3, and this was the first year he filmed where he was legally an adult, being 19 years old when filming TUA4. 

From the first season of the show, when he was 14 years old when filming, he has been heavily sexualised by a certain group of the fanbase. 

And the creators of the show, who have known him since he was a young teenager, at the first opportunity they could, paired him with his 34 year old costar - They met in the filming of the second season of the show, when Aidan was 15.

They waited - literally waited - for him to turn of legal age so that they could make his character have a love story, and then regardless of morals, regardless of plot relevance, regardless of if it even made sense for the characters, proceeded to pair Five and Lila up. Completely uncaring of the story, the established relationships between the characters and the overarching arcs of these characters.

The writers literally had to completely separate and isolate Five and Lila from the rest of the characters in their own timeline for over half a decade in order for it to make sense for them to develop a romantic relationship between them.

The decisions of the creators in this season are just so insane.

In continuation of Fives character this season - he abandons his family twice. Firstly when he finds the cipher to the subway and can return home, but chooses not to. Then secondly while his family are facing a life or death situation and another apocalypse, he physically fights Diego, and when Lila intervenes and implies that their relationship is over, he abandons them in the middle of the fight, to return to the subway.

And finally we get to the finale, where Five - again whose entire character is built on the love and devotion he has for his family - decides to erase himself and his entire family's existence from not just one timeline, but across every single timeline in order to correct the universe.

Five has never cared about the timeline. In fact he has always actively been working against it for his family's survival. They are supposed to die in TUA1 but Five will not allow that to happen and he goes against everything and every one to ensure that they live. He does this in every single season - goes directly against time and the universe to make sure his family makes it out on the other side. Now he is happy to give up and give in and not just to let his family die, but to have them permanently erased as if they hadn’t existed at all.

Even with the Five diner, we see all these Fives who have given up on trying to save their family after trying and failing to save them countless times - over 100,000 times - they resign themselves to a life of solitude with only alternate versions of themselves for company. Surely some of these Five have had to make the same connection that our Five makes, but they won’t sacrifice their families existence for the sake of the main timeline. But our Five, the Five that we follow, the Five we’ve personally seen struggle and fight to make sure his family is safe is the one who does.

I just cannot express how much this season disappoints me. The fundamental misunderstanding the creators have with their own characters and their own show is unbelievable. Even at the show's weakest, what makes it so engaging, what makes it so great, is this dysfunctional ass family who love each other. Their unbreakable bonds even when they are at odds with one another. How in their own weird way they do care deeply for one another. 

And the creators when telling the final story of these dearly beloved characters, destroy the bonds between them and send them off with a big old Fuck You to the audience to boot.

I cannot fathom how the same people who made TUA1 and TUA2, created this. Truly I cannot.

The conclusion from all of this I have come to is that the creators of this show are obsessed with writing perverse storylines. More subtle in the beginning, but now at the expense of the story and the characters themselves. Even since TUA1 there have been very weird romance story lines. Luther and Allison, and though not explicitly stated, the dynamic between Five and The Handler in the first two seasons is extremely uncomfortable.

And in TUA4 it all comes to the forefront where despite all of the complexity and nuance in the previous seasons of the show, they are willing to throw it all away to write these weird creepy storylines that nobody but themselves asked for or wanted. Luther becoming a stripper, Klaus being sex trafficked, Lila and Fives whole relationship.

Again I cannot express how much this season disappoints me. I cannot comprehend the decisions the creators of this show made. I cannot understand why they chose to destroy everything that made this show great. I cannot fathom how they could end this show in such a way and then pat themselves on the back for a job well done.

This has made me so deeply upset in a way that I just can't express. I have completely lost all respect for the creators of this show. I’m glad that it's finally come to an end so the creators can’t keep continuing to ruin this show and its characters.

Goodbye, Hargreeves family. You all deserve so much better.

[lunar-writes-things]

Alright, alright. Hear me out. There is not enough boatem x reader on tumblr, so can we get a fic set in the SoB universe, like, a cute date night with all the babys? Or even like, a moment during season nine where boatem has to reassure the reader that they'll still love them even if they don't live in a big group anymore?

To make a wrong right

Pairing: Boatem X Reader

Summary: In which your preparation for a date is misinterpreted. 

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Extra notes: ooooooo- MY BABIES!!!! I so missed writing for them!!! Enjoy!

Content warnings (If any): None 

WC: 1.6k

Season Nine was exhilarating for you.

Starting off the season with Your partners (That felt wonderful to say, even after three months in the void) and making a few small bases around Spawn that held you five together, often coming together in your home since Grian was already almost always there and so were you.

But soon, the blissfulness of spawn faded, and soon blueprints began to form. 

This season? You were a God

Your wings grew large, even without the elytra, and your eyes burned so white you had to wear a white wrap around them to prevent you from hurting your lovers. 

Even so, they loved you more and more, and you loved all the more.

This season you chose snowy mountains to build on. High in the clouds to create a Greek city with pantheons for each of the twelve main gods and goddesses, with the biggest one in the middle for you. 

It was a project of size you had never done before, but nonetheless, you were excited. Not everyone could say they built a city in the clouds. 

unfortunately, with huge projects comes huge consequences. 

Like not being able to spend time with your lovers. 

They and you still visited each other, but now the task was tedious. You lived far from your partners, and it hurt your heart not to see them as much as you used to, but you knew that once you finished the inside of this build, you would bring them up as soon as possible and make sure they had their fill of time together. 

However...That would be a long time from now... 

The Boatem crew met without their angel in Grian's base. It had been a few months since they'd seen you and Mumbo had just got back from his hibernation. 

"They aren't here..." Mumbo said and slumped down 

"Yeah..." Pearl hummed and looked out, worried. "Do you think they are okay?" 

"I'm sure they're fine," Impulse spoke up and pulled Pearl into his lap before pressing small kisses to her face "They've been really absorbed into that base of theirs. Barely listened to me when I invited them."

There was a moment of silence before Scar spoke up and asked, "Do you think... Do you think they may not love us anymore?" 

The silence thickened so much that they couldn't breathe. 

"Don't say that-" Grian said, voice hoarse and thick with tears "No- Y/n is just busy. We all know how she gets when it comes to their builds and we know why." 

"Agreed..." Mumbo trailed off 

Still, Scar's question echoed through their heads even as they cheered up and continued with Mumbo's welcome home party. 

So that night, as they were all curled into each other, attempting to sleep, Grian asked "Do... Do you really think that would be the case?"

"Could it possibly have happened because we're so far from them?" Pearl whispered 

"No, It couldn't be..." Impulse trailed off. "Could it?"

The group felt the doubt sink in, and it was suffocating. 

Meanwhile, You were curled up in your own bed outside, shivering underneath the thin blanket and beautiful start that seemed to be taunting you. 

You were cold and alone and missing your partners so deeply. 

It killed you to be so far away from them, and today Mumbo had come home, and you weren't there. 

You had realized it far too late to show up for the party the boatem crew had organized, and you felt horrible for leaving your partners high and dry...

Just like you have for the last past few months...

Your heart ached at the thought of them without you, but it's not like you could complain... you did this to yourself. 

Still, it broke your heart to be away from the people you love oh so much. 

The reason you were rushing this build as fast as possible. 

And next week, it will be worth it. 

All you had to finish was the roof and the interiors, and you would be done. 

And with those final touches, you could finally prepare for something you wanted to do all season. 

Propose. 

And you needed it to be perfect. The Pantheon needed to be finished and the rooms decorated, but soon you would marry the people who made you feel whole again. 

A week later, Grian walked out of his base to find a chest filled with flowers and a letter. 

Dear Grian, 

Come to my Megabase at 8 pm

I have something I would love to talk to you and the rest of Boatem about. 

Y/n's Harmony 

He re-read the thing multiple times before he looked up at Mumbo, who had just come out of his own base a few minutes ago in horror

It seemed as if they were thinking the same thing

"ARE YOU BREAKING UP WITH US?" Pearl cried as you stepped out of their base to see the woman looking up at you 

"What-?" You asked softly before the four men asked and looked desperately for Pearl until they saw her crying and froze 

"Oh, my love," You cooed, kneeling down to her level and wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her close, "Whatever made you think that?" 

But despite Pearl's sniffling, the silence was deafening, and You felt guilt absolutely crush your heart. 

"Did-" You looked up with horror in your eyes. "Did all of you think that?" 

There were hesitant nods, and tears filled your eyes

"We thought," Scar started softly, "We thought you didn't love us anymore, and we figured it was because we didn't live as close as we used to." 

"Oh, My sweet Vex," You whispered to Scar before looking at her lovers and softly saying, "My sweet Symphony, There will never be any reason for me to stop loving you. Not even death will allow me to stop loving you, for you are engraved in my soul, embedded into my heart and you are my sole reason for living." 

You open your free arm, and the other members come rushing in

You basked in their warmth, in their love. You smother them in small kisses and whisper apologies. You begged for their forgiveness for ever making them feel that way. For daring even to make them think you didn't love them.

Once they calmed down and moved into the living room of your home, they noticed it was fully finished. 

"When did you-" Impulse asked 

"Just before you all got here." You answered, "I was supposed to be more dressed up and clean, but you all came early." 

"Dressed up?" Mumbo asked, "For what?" 

Thats when you got embarrassed. 

"Well, first off, I was supposed to serenade you as you all came in," You admitted. "Then I was going to show you the awesome dinner I made, and then I had a surprise for you all." 

"A surprise?" Grian asked, and you flushed 

the rings you had planned to propose with are in your room, you had planned to stuff them in the kitchen after you cleaned up but you didn't have time to... 

welp- 

there was no time like the present. 

"Give me a second." You said and squirmed out of the cuddle pile before heading to your room and grabbing the five boxes with each of their respective boxes

Taking a deep breath, you walked out of your room and called to your lovers 

"Close your eyes for me?" 

There was a confused flurry of agreements, and you peeked out t see all f them had closed their eyes. You walked out with light steps and grabbed their hand as you gently placed each of their velvet boxes in them. 

Red for Grian

Yellow for Impulse

Dark Blue for Pearl

Black for Mumbo

and A light copper green for Scar.

Each colored box had a ring that matched them. Their signature color and personality in a ring you had made for them. 

So now, on one knee you cleared their throat and said "Open your eyes and the box." 

There were soft gasps, and you gave a soft smile. "My plan fell through quite a bit, but Overall, I'm glad I still had a chance to do this. So I ask the question, Will you marry me?" 

There was deafening silence before you were suddenly tackled by Impulse, who pressed kisses all over your face, beard scratching your skin as he nuzzled into you and whispered a million yeses 

"I, personally, would love to marry you, Y/n." Impulse said and pressed a long slow kiss to your lips that took your breath away 

With those words, it seems that it snapped whatever spell was on the rest of Boatem, and they all attacked you with hugs, Tears, and kisses with various versions of the same word

Yes

Your heart swelled as tears welled in your eyes as you kissed them back. Making sure they felt the love in your touch, you wanted to worship them like they had worshipped you early on in their relationship. 

The laughs and smiles of your partners were a beautiful symphony to your ears.

You loved your partners, and you were now able to spend the rest of your days with them. How wonderful. 

[trashforhockeyguys]

Vienna Waits For You -8- William Nylander

“Miss Bradshaw Krietzburg, I think it’s very possible that this will work in our favor.”

“Mr. Jefferies, all due respect, but I need to know that it will work. We’ve combed over every line of these contracts.”

“Is there really no loophole she can exploit?” Jackson questioned, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Well, there is one option, although it requires radical action.”

It took Avalyn two months to finally decide to take action against her management team. Jackson was able to hire a lawyer on her behalf, so that her team wouldn’t know anything about it. Together, the three of them met weekly, sometimes more than once, to try to find a way to rid Avalyn of her management. 

She hadn’t spoken to William since that night in her apartment. They were like strangers to each other again, only seeing one another when it came to work related functions. But everytime she saw him from across the room, or on the ice during a game, her chest hurt. She missed seeing him all of the time, missed being with him and talking to him. 

Jackson walked out of the small office with Ava. Both of them had a day off from filming, although they were nearing a break that would last a few weeks. Production wanted to finalize the first two episodes and present them to the studio to make sure that they’d be allowed to continue before finishing off the season. 

“Are you coming to the game tonight?” Jackson asked, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. 

Jackson had been grasping at straws for weeks, doing everything he could to get Avalyn to show interest in anything. The only thing she could focus on outside of filming, was doing everything in her power to get out from underneath her parents. Everything else was just…nothing to her. 

The makeup team had a hell of a time making her look better on screen than she did in real life now. Her cheeks hollowed out a little more again, with large dark circles under her eyes. He knew she didn’t sleep much, or eat more than the bare minimum. She was slipping, and there was little he could do other than keep throwing out a rope and hoping she’d grab it one day.

“No, it's best if I don’t. Besides, I want to make sure I have everything down before the shoot on Monday,” She replied, pulling her coat closer to her body. 

“Avey, you have to give yourself a break at some point. You can’t keep working yourself like this.”

She smiled sadly at Jackson, “I keep working so I don’t have time to think.”

He pulled her close, holding her head against his chest in an effort to block out the world, “I wish I could just fix it all for you. God, I wish you didn’t have to deal with any of this anymore.”

She held onto him, feeling relaxed in his arms, “I know. But I’ll be okay Jacks. We’ll find a way out of my contracts.” 

She pulled away enough to see his face. Avalyn tried not to pay much attention to the worried look he had, instead she brushed some of his long hair away from his eyes and tried her best to smile, “Go to the game. Have some fun.”

“Promise me you’ll get some sleep?” He seemed to beg her, “Don’t obsess over the scripts all night.”

“I’ll do my best. Now go, I don’t want you to miss anything.” She shooed him away, “I love you.”

“I love you more.” 

She forces a smile as she makes her way out of the office. For the past month it felt like she couldn't breathe. Like an elephant was sitting on her chest, forcing the air from her lungs. She tried to fight it, but the unbearable pressure from her parents was getting worse. 

Jefferies thought that maybe she could sue them for her rights, or something like that. But she was afraid of what would happen if she took things to a court, because of how nasty they could get. She knew first hand how vicious they could be when they wanted to be. 

Her phone going off drew her out of her thoughts, she pulled it out of her pocket and answered it without even paying attention to who was calling. 

“Avalyn Bradshaw Kiretzburg.”

“Do you always answer your phone that way?” 

She feels her shoulders sag at the sound of his voice, slowly breaking down every barrier she spent the last several weeks trying to build. She leaned against the wall in the hallway leading to her apartment. She hadn’t talked to him since that night in her apartment. The news about the show broke, she went on several more talk shows with the cast. Her parents scrambled to make it seem like this was something they approved of. But the reception was incredible, everyone seemed to be excited about the new hockey show hitting streaming services within the year. It made Avalyn incredibly proud to be a part of it. 

“Only when I don’t pay attention to who’s calling,” She admitted shyly. 

“Ah, so that’s why you picked up,” He laughs, filling her ears with the wonderful sound. 

“You know we can’t do this,” she sighed, digging in her pocket for her keys. 

“No, I just know you say we can’t,” He rebutted, “I don’t care much about what your parents think.”

“I care too much about you,” She shakes her head, “My dad could have your career ended with a single phone call.”

“Yeah, I don’t buy that,” She can picture his smile as he shakes his head, “Anyway, I wanted to see if you’re coming to the game tonight.” 

“You know I won’t be there,” She tells him softly, “It would cause too many questions. Jackson though, he’ll be there with some of the other cast members.” 

“So you can’t come because?” 

“People are already questioning those pictures of us from a little while back,” She rushed to explain, “I can’t give anyone a reason to look closer. I can’t give them a reason to look at you.” 

“So, more of your self preservation bullshit,” He surmised, “Got it.”

“Will-” 

“Look, I like you Ava, you know that. But I can’t wait for you to decide to live your life,” He informs her, “You have to make that decision. No one can make it for you.” 

“Willy I-” 

“I gotta go, game is getting ready to start. Just wanted to hear your voice before I got on the ice.” 

She wanted to say more. Wanted to beg for him to wait for you to get out from underneath your parents. She was so close she could taste freedom. She just wasn’t sure how to get it, no matter how badly she wanted it.

 So instead she gave it another week, waiting for her next meeting with Mr. Jefferies, when she finally asked what the most radical thing to do would be. He took his time explaining how many moving parts this plan would entail, and how important it was that it go off without a hitch. No one outside of the room could know about it. All she knew is she wanted to be free. 

Avalyn wanted to be rid of her parents once and for all. No matter what it might mean for her career. Jackson was ready to talk to his agent and see if they’d be willing to take Avalyn on as a client, provided they would sign an NDA beforehand, so they couldn’t tell anyone else about this either. 

She longed to tell William. Longed to tell him that she was trying to live her life to the best of her ability. But she just needed to get through the next month and then everything would be different. 

“I’ll need a place to crash, off the grid, once news breaks,” Avalyn stated. 

“What about Rose’s place? The homestead with her family?” Jackson questioned, “She’s coming to guest star on the show next week, we can talk to her.” 

“I don’t want to drag Ro into this though,” Ava sighs. 

“You know she’ll be happy to help. You’ll be safe there, no one even knows where she lives.” 

Avalyn sinks further into her seat, knowing her friend was right. Roisin Quinnlyn, or more famously known as  Rose Quinn was a famous singer and actress and a good friend of Avalyn and Jackson’s. One of the only ones left after Margot’s tirade. She stuck with them throughout all of it, never once turning her back on them. 

Rose was the daughter of Irish immigrant parents, who then brought her grandparents over as well. The family had a homestead of sorts in the state of New York, tucked away where no one really knows. The locals don’t talk about her being there, in fact they protect her in every way that they possibly could. 

Avalyn realized it was one of the few places she actually felt at home. Aside from the home she was slowly making for herself here in Toronto. 

“Yeah, okay,” She finally agrees, “Make the arrangements.” 

Jackson finally relaxes in his chair, knowing his best friend would be free soon. He hated seeing what her parents did to her all of these years. Hated seeing how they broke her down and stole her spirit. He thought some of it had come back when she moved here for the show, but he watched as it slowly disappeared again. 

“Good,” Jacks smiled, “I’ll call Rose tonight and see if she’s game. But she hates your parents as much as we do, so I’m sure she’ll be down to cause some trouble.” 

“You and Rose only cause trouble,” Avalyn rolled her eyes. 

He smiled again, big and bright at her. Showing off his dimples. There was a pang in Avalyn’s chest at the thought that they wouldn’t have to fake date anymore, which meant she wouldn’t see as much of him when they weren’t filming together. She was selfish in the way that she wanted to keep him in her life as much as she possibly could. She loved him, in more ways than one. 

“It’ll be good to see her again though,” He adds in, “It’s been a while.” 

Rose was just coming off the back of a world tour, which sold out every venue. Avalyn and Jackson were lucky enough to catch one of her shows in LA before she went for her European leg. You were in awe of your friend as you watched her on stage, you loved watching her do what she loved. 

“You should talk to Willy,” Jackson said as the two of them made their way back to her apartment, “He really misses you.” 

“I know he does,” She said softly, “I miss him too, but I can’t risk his career, not when I’m so close to getting out.” 

“So after it’s all over? Will you talk to him then?” He asks. 

“I’ll do more than just talk to him,” She admits, “I’ll get on my knees and beg for him.” 

“I don’t think you’ve ever begged for anything,” Jackson lets out a laugh.

She shakes her head, “I begged for him before, begged for my parents to leave him alone. It was the first time I tried to get my way with them.” 

Jackson wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, “We’ll get you through this. But right now, there are people taking pictures of us, so shut up and kiss me like you love me.” 

“I do love you,” She rolled her eyes, but stood on her tiptoes so she could reach his lips. 

It didn’t feel the same as kissing William. There was no spark with Jacks. Never had been. Anything they did together, they did because they were made to, or it was just safest to do it with one another. They had sex together because it was safe to do so. The other party wouldn't sell the story or anything. Rose and William were the only ones who knew it even happened. 

“I love you,” She forced herself to say overly lovingly. 

“I love you too,” There was a hint of sadness in his voice, in his eyes too, “C’mon, let's get you home.”

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

hi bestie saw ur post and im kinda curious about this since it's something not a lot of ppl are talking about next to ed's arc and izzy's death and all— what do you think about how they handled stede in the finale? I felt like a lot of the "incompetent wannabe pirate" jokes undermined his progress this season and also him deciding to stay at the inn with ed felt odd as he expressed he wanted to be a pirate and sail the sea. just wondering what other people think about that

[Oct 31, 2023]

Before we get into it, you are allowed to enjoy this show! My past (and next few) responses WILL be negative, but you aren't wrong for agreeing or disagreeing with most posts. Thanks to all the people who have already sent in messages! I can't wait to respond!!

I am an Izzy fan first and foremost, but how a show handles it's protagonist says a LOT about how it handles it' characters overall!

TLDR for this post: In any character-centric media, explore your characters as characters first. Develop your plot around them and their arcs. Don't treat an ensemble cast as faceless props for the story you're trying to tell. Stede's arc is weird because Stede is shoved in places where it feels like he doesn't fit anymore.

Creating a narrative focused on central character conflicts can work. This is how S1 was written. Stede and his actions directly lead to revealing truths of the world that push the plot forward. This worked because I'd argue the strongest part of OFMD overall is its characters. S2 misses out on this strongest aspect by only referencing its characters when it needs something from them.

S1 We went from Stede killing a guy-> The Act of Grace. S2 Stede tells a guy he shouldn't be an idiot and leave behind a calling card -> burning down the Republic of Pirates and killing Izzy. S2 doesn't feel as tied to Stede's arc of growing into a pirate. But Stede isn't the only person this has fucked over.

Each crew member has their role established from S1, we fans know how they work as a family. But in S2 most of the cast can be swapped out interchangeably unless its something that features this side character NICHE (Wee John in drag being good with fabrics, Roach being a cook).

Sadly, by focusing on the larger Zheng vs. Military arc, a story our characters BARELY caused, the audience misses out on potential character development. Instead of our characters facing the consequences of their actions, our favorite side characters are used as faceless narrative tools. This is largely why the crew was abandoned this season unless they had a romantic side plot. Seeing The Revenge sail off in episode 8, it feels like we barely care about them at all anymore.

As seen from @the-buttspie 's comment, even Stede's arc isn't left out of the firing range. His characterization in episode 8 is constantly thrown back and forth between 'Captain doing his best' and 'Village idiot' if the scene needs it.

Analyzing WHY I started to dislike Stede post episode 4 is FASCINATING, and I feel that digging all the way back to the beginning is a smart way to look at his character growth this season.

FRAMING: Stede's early story get's fucked over pacing-wise because his storyline happens side by side to that of Ed/Izzy.

Any dramatic moment is cut short to show just how much the other crew is NOT about to die. Every time I watch S2 with a new person, for episodes 1-3, they'll comment on how much they don't care about Stede's plot. Which is not a thing you'd want for your protagonist in a season of TV that's only 8 episodes long.

Stede goes through a really strong arc from S1 to the start of S2. For the first three episodes of S2, he puts the needs of his crew before the needs of himself. Literally making sure his crew is safe before going down to see Ed's corpse. I genuinely enjoyed how Stede stepped up for his family. How he doesn't blame the Revenge crew for killing Ed, realizing that yes. Ed is the love of his life and also a man who has seriously hurt so many people.

Eps 4-5: From that we see him trying to talk it through with Ed. While both of them aren't telling the whole truth, it's a good start! We're midway through the season, so we should expect things to get fleshed out more soon.

Until Stede decides 'I'm going to bring a man that tortured my family for 80+ days onboard less than 24 hours after my crew voted him off' Yes. Stede loves Ed to a stupid extent, but this starts the trend for Stede to be dangerously selfish this season using his power as captain to overwrite the want of his crew, a habit of his that partially gets Izzy killed.

I really enjoyed Stede in episode 5, and for me, this felt most like the Stede we recognize growing into a real Captain with hints of who he was. I think it says a lot that Stede still misses his layers and silks. That he craves the softness he used to have in the form of that cursed jacket. But as soon as Izzy is like 'you idiot, please listen to them, they will mutiny' Stede gives it up!!!! He's grown. He's listening to Izzy, he's talking with his crew! This episode did the one thing I wish the season did more of, show the reunited crew just living their lives.

This is where Stede stands out, it lets him be a bit more of a leader to the crew. Let him find his groove again. I loved it!!

Now: Killing Ned Low.

Stede choosing to kill Ned Low is the first time Stede killing someone counts. Yes, he burned down the ship French ship. But this is the first time the audience is supposed to care. I think this moment WAS in character and a really important moment for Stede. He chose this. This wasn't up to crew vote, Ned insulted Ed so fuck him, he deserves to die. Ned walks the plank, also referencing historical Bonnet's tendency to do the same thing.

This is where both Ed and Stede make an in-character mistake, having their first time after the rush of 'oh shit, I'm still alive, and I'm hurting and you're here too'. They don't regret their first time, clearly, they both enjoyed it, but both of them can't ignore what fueled it. Stede has had 3 episodes to re-establish himself with his crew, and now has very little time for the rest of the season with them to show off his growth. That's why, after the party, we don't feel like this show is showing off a family anymore. Even when reunited, they barely feel like a united front.

But from this point on, I personally feel that Stede should have toned down the humor a bit and act like he did in episode 3. Well, I'm getting a bit ahead of myself so-

Episode 7: Stede enjoys being popular, following in Ed's footsteps. He holds his ground against Ed, and overall this feels like a natural progression of his arc from episode 5. He knows what he wants in life and Ed not communicating is genuinely frustrating for him. Him being heartbroken and trying to fight Zheng like she's Izzy is one of the few callbacks I feel that works. As it compares a Stede who was supported by his crew, to this Stede who feels totally alone. I loved Stede this episode, only to be disappointed by-

Episode 8:

Where Ed is allowed to have his silly moments in private, I feel that Stede fluctuates between silly and serious WAY too much for us to take him seriously. Stede's response to Ed telling him he loved him being 'I know' also felt off to me.

"You're not a dick, life's a dick" This line is frustrating to me as it's Stede's response to Ed apologizing. Genuinely apologizing for his actions in the previous episode. This could have been a moment for us to feel like Stede and Ed were a united front but Stede's constant joking and not taking shit semi-seriously. Yes. He feels more comfortable around his family which is amazing.

But I can't help but point out how Stede chooses to go along with a plan the rest of the crew doesn't like. What NARRATIVE purpose was there for Stede trying to sell the captain? He has money, clearly. With the loot they still have, and a future alliance with Zheng.

Stede fucks up. His choice a plan that gets Izzy killed. The writers sacrificed Stede being a competent Captain who cares about his crew into what is described as a 'suicide mission' to push Izzy into his rushed death. A disservice to both characters.

ONTO:

Stede abandons piracy

I'm not shocked they did this, not after the other flubs of the episode, but I hate that it wasn't a conversation held between Ed and Stede.

They could cut the stupid joke about Ed being bad at fishing at the beginning and have these two idiots talking about their issues. Maybe establish that, yeah, piracy is a lot, and they deserve to settle down and get to know each other. Even if they return to the sea, this frames it as Ed finally finding peace and Stede getting pulled along, going against his character growth this season.

I'm surprised that they're setting this up now and not at the end of Season 3. Hell, I used to think S3 would be focused on Ed and Stede avoiding/faking their historical deaths. Given all the bullshit they'll have to clean up to wrap up all the loose ends established this season- S3 will be VERY Ed/Stede focused, I think the crew will still be inserted in without care or arc. Characters like Jim and Oluwande will be prioritized as they are in a relationship before our nonromantic characters like Wee John and Frenchie.

Stede and Ed's relationship, the driving force of the plot, still falls flat because after everything it still feels like puppy love. They've spent at most two months in person together, and two weeks in a serious relationship. I don't really feel convinced that they actually love each other. Ed still doesn't know that Stede was kidnapped at the end of S1, or why he struggles to talk about his feelings. Ed still hasn't talked about why he feels he needs to leave piracy, or his issues feeling like he doesn't belong anywhere in life. Their habit of running away the MOMENT things get hard just makes me not care about them.

I blame the size of the Izzy fandom on the fact that if you don't buy into the leads, there's almost nothing left here to sink your teeth into. The moment the show seems like they'll talk about it they hard pivot.

I hope S3ep1 happens after a LONG time jump. I want these fuckers to be snippy like two people snowed into a cabin for months. Sick of each other and bitching back and forth like no tomorrow. S3 is about genuinely breaking down their walls. Until then, I'll stick with Izzy, the Canyon, and his depressing version of this reality.

[engie-ivy]

(@wolfstarmicrofic Wolfstar loosely based on the movie Stardust)

10th: Myth

843 words

He Who Possesses the Heart of a Star

Remus barely manages to find a table to have his morning tea and read his paper. The fact that the cafés, bars and restaurants are all overflowing with people definitely proves that tourist season is well on its way, and every year, their picturesque small town seems to attract more visitors.

Remus is sitting outside on a terrace overlooking the town square. He would’ve preferred a bit more shadow, but as he’s lucky to have found a place at all, he really can’t complain. At the table next to him, a mother with two young children is seated, the family definitely being tourists. The mother is flipping through the menu, while the boy, probably around twelve years old, is reading from a travel guide to his little sister.

“They say that over three hundred years ago, a star fell from the sky and landed right in this very town,” the boy says. “The crater can actually still be seen at the west side. And it was not just any star! It was Sirius, before that fateful moment the brightest star in the sky.” He looks over the book towards his little sister, who’s looking at him with big eyes, and he continues in a low, ominous voice. “As it is said that possessing the heart of a star can grand you eternal life, this town was soon overflowing with power-hungry knights, savvy traders, opportunistic adventurers, hopeful thieves, ambitious warlocks and, most of all, ugly witches longing to have their youth and beauty back,” he reads. “All wanting to rip out the heart of the star and live forever!”

His little sister shrieks, and their mother gives the boy a stern look.

“But alas, the star was never found,” the boy quickly finishes.

“Because it is only a myth,” their mother says soothingly to the little girl, before turning to the boy. “So stop scaring your sister with silly stories!”

“But the crater is really here, though!” The boy says. “Can we go see, mum? Please?”

Remus puts his empty mug down and fishes some coins out of his pocket that he drops on the table, before standing up to make his way home.

Walking westwards, Remus passes the tour guides showing groups around town and the groups of tourists taking pictures of the old town house. He walks past the shop at the corner, where there used to be a weaver for three generations long, until it was turned into a tailor, even a candle maker for some time, and then into a grocery for a few decades. Now, it is a flashy shop where they sell Oreo waffles with Nutella topping or something like that.

As Remus comes home, his husband is lying on the couch scrolling through his smartphone.

“Those things are really going to be the downfall of society,” Remus scoffs.

His husband looks up with a raised eyebrow. “You said the same thing when they invented the TV, and who needs to watch his favourite shows now every night?”

Remus glares at him, and his husband sighs and puts his phone away. “Okay, what has gotten you in such a mood?”

“This town is becoming more of a tourist trap with each passing year. Nothing is like the good old days anymore,” Remus grumbles.

His husband rolls his eyes. “Okay, grandpa.”

“Oi! I look much younger than I am,” Remus protests as he sits down on the couch next to his husband.

“Oh, I don’t deny that,” his husband chuckles as he lies down with his head in Remus’ lap. “But on the inside, you’re just a grumpy old man.”

Remus almost automatically starts carding his fingers through his husband’s hair, who closes his extraordinary silver eyes, and here, in the safety and comfort of their own home, starts softly glowing.

“I guess the tourists do make the place more lively,” Remus admits.

His husband hums contently. “And they are a whole lot better than those starhunters who used to come here.”

“Did you know they still tell that story?” Remus asks. “It’s actually in the travel guides.”

His husband opens his eyes. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Remus grins. “All about how people came from all over the world searching for Sirius, the brightest star that had fallen from the sky, lured by the promise of eternal life.”

“Well, as obnoxious as they were, I suppose I can’t blame them,” his husband says. “I mean, it is quite something, isn’t it?” He takes Remus’ hand and places it over his heart, covering it with his own. “To live forever because you completely possess the heart of the brightest star?”

Remus regards his husband with a well-known surge of affection and a strong and familiar feeling of love, regards the man who crashed into his life all those years ago and has made his every day brighter since, literally and figuratively. “Yes,” he replies. “It is quite something indeed.”

No man can live forever, except he who possesses the heart of a star, and Sirius had given his to Remus completely.

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

Continuity and Tonal Shifts in Season Ten

This is gonna be a really long meta describing some of my frustrations with the current writing decisions. I'm approaching these as someone who loves the show and wants it to succeed, and I'm not making any sweeping "the show is problematic" or "the writers are bad" statements, just that the writing decisions lately have been poor in my opinion and I need to express my thoughts on that.

So as a lot of people may or may not know, Fink and Cranor alternate writing episodes, and according to Patreon, they have minimal communication about what is going to happen in the next episode, giving the other relative creative freedom. This often works when the style of Night Vale is random, disjointed, and with a lot of left-field plot devices, but with this current plot line so grounded in literal stuff and reality, it is SO FRUSTRATING. Especially because Fink mentioned in a patreon post that he only backreads the past five episodes to maintain continuity - something that clearly does not work when your show is over 230 episodes long, has had tons of live shows, and expanded into three books. I feel like the last three episodes have had a very off-putting disconnect, and that makes this writing decision REALLY REALLY OBVIOUS in a glaring can't-overlook-it-anymore way.

There's no way to know which writer wrote which episode, but we'll say "odd writer" and "even writer" for continuity's sake. I have my personal opinion about which writer wrote what, but I don't want to share that here. It could be that Fink is odd writer and Cranor is even writer, or it could be the other way around, but what matters is that odd writer and even writer didn't communicate.

227, written by odd writer: Blake lures Cecil away with a made-up sob story and Cecil departs the station. Lubelle comes to the radio station and gives a long speech about Night Vale, condescends about Cecil's hold over the town, explains away the weather, says outright that she's taking over, and leaves with the ominous "show over, Night Vale, show over" closing tag. What's going to happen? Find out in two weeks!

228, written by even writer: Actually she just briefly broke into the radio station and left without a struggle and Blake was just tricking Cecil and let him go, and now Cecil is back and Lubelle hasn't taken over anything yet, nor kidnapped him. But science is going to be made illegal to stop Dr. Lubelle and the Univeristy, and that will really mess with Carlos! What's going to happen? Find out in two weeks!

229, written by odd writer: Science is illegal but the University decided to just straight up ignore it and continue with all of their stuff using a bunch of technical work-arounds and sheer numbers to overwhelm the town, so it doesn't really affect anyone other than Carlos, who by the way is barely in an episode that's supposed to be about his struggles. Anyway, Lubelle brought all of her faculty into town, so that's probably bad. What will they do? Find out in two weeks!

It's starting to feel like we're reliving the Star Wars sequel trilogy, except there's two JJ Abrams and neither of them is talking to each other. Every episode ends on this intense buildup and then it immediately fizzles away at the start of the next one. It's like getting edged by someone who keeps pulling their hand away so they can go on their phone and type "actually everything is fine now" before they get back to it.

There's one other thing I want to mention about this odd writer/even writer dilemma, which is episode 225. This was an odd writer episode, and in it, Lubelle asks Cecil to come down to the University for some "tests", an offer that he finds very offensive, but one that's punctuated by Dr. Jones snickering that Station Management has been explained away. It really feels like odd writer is trying to set up plotline where the University becomes interested in Cecil, whether that's for his connection to the town or his relationship with Carlos, and even writer just does not want to let that happen.

There's even a bit of a tonal shift, where odd writer paints Dr. Jones as cunning, "Couldn't be station management. They don't even exist. They've been, well... they've been explained." (episode 225) "Looks like Blake succeeded in tricking that fool away from his mic," (episode 227) and then even writer does an about-face and makes him cowardly instead, forcing odd writer to go along with that characterization; so odd writer decides to just write him out of the story without really doing anything.

The lack of communication between the two writers is becoming more and more obvious, and for the fans, more and more frustrating. There are also so many great fan-assembled resources that demonstrate every episode a character or plot point has appeared in, so I feel like it shouldn't be that hard for the writers to find their own system of continuity - or hell, just borrow ours and then throw in a "extra thank to the contributors of the Night Vale wikia" in the credits or something. You guys do this for a living! Is it so much to ask if we'd like you to be good at it?

[phoenix-positivity]

29 may 2024

Yesterday was my 8 year anniversary of going no contact with my abuser and physically escaping him. (I don't remember the date for when the stalking stopped but that was about 4 years later.. I should look it up sometime)

I discovered that it's also the date that the kpop group I'm going to see in concert debuted 5 years ago. I like that those dates match. I have a weird thing for dates sometimes. I'm so excited for the concert. I can't remember the last time I was this excited about something. I think it was probably summer last year during vacation, visiting Europapark and a bear rescue park. (I get pretty excited about roller coasters, and I get even more excited about bears)

The concert is getting really close. I'm not done with all I wanted to prepare for it yet, but I still have some time. I'm really busy with it.

Tomorrow I have what will likely be my last EMDR apointment (if all goes well). How great of a coincidence would it have been if that appointment had been yesterday. The last EMDR processing also ending on 28th may. It's close enough. And it's close enough in date I still feel the symbolism. The question being: Will this be the last May where I have to be triggered by the seasonal effects? We can only wait for next year to discover this. I'm dreading EMDR tomorrow but I can handle it I'm sure. I've done so much worse than this.

I'm taking very good care of myself. The concert is giving me a lot of motivation to look after myself. I've been doing a skin care routine, I've cooked healthy meals for myself for a week. (This is pretty big, it had been very very long since I cooked something instead of heating up meals) To be honest I was also fed up by eating the same 5 meal options back to back. But I actually seem to have energy to prepare the meals. My PTSD symptoms are barely there anymore. I only have them if I get triggered by like pretty strong triggers. I haven't dissociated as much either, only with triggers.

There's been some changes at my work which probably help a lot in me feeling better and having more energy left. I'm able to do my job better due to this as well. I'm working less hours and I have less responsibility. This will be challenged the upcoming three weeks as I will be getting a a lot more responsibility again due to people being on vacation/sick. But I'll just do what I can and if I can't solve it I wont make it my problem. I'm not being paid for that and it's not my job to take on that role. It's only three weeks anyway.

The fact that yesterday during a pretty important date I felt like it wasn't that important of a day also is telling. The fact I felt it was a regular day like any other shows me I'm moving on and giving less importance to the abuse I went through. It no longer brings on the same intense feelings. It's starting to actually stay in the past now. It's starting to really become just like a memory that I don't have to stay stuck in. This must really be what healing from PTSD feels like. Finally being able to let go and not have it intrude into my life as much if at all. I can describe it as it becoming more fuzzy, faded out, muddied, blurred, more distanced. It's no longer crisp, fresh, crystal clear, intense, in your face. EMDR is like a magic eraser in that sense.

My therapy is coming to a close soon. My therapist told me to apply for assistance at home because I do have trouble with my housekeeping. I put in effort whenever I'm able to. The next chapter will be to focus on working with that organization to properly orchestrate my life at home. I have no clue how this will play out but we will see. My therapist has suggested it to me many times before (not pushy, just bringing it up as an option) and I finally agreed it would probably be good for me. They are supposed to specialize in autism as well so we will see.

[literallyjustanerd]

Scar Tissue - The Bad Batch

Set immediately after season 2, so spoilers if you're not caught up. Got in my feelings about how the batch would handle their situation and this happened. Enjoy my angst! Echo cops most of it because I love putting my favourites through the most pain.

Words: 1803

            There is a type of silence that feels tangible. A type of silence that seems to live and breathe and think. A type of silence like a creature lurking, a predator. Unseen, though its presence grates keenly on your senses and drives you back, caging you in until even the tempered rise and fall of your chest is an unwelcome intrusion. A thin, ragged breath is driven from Hunter’s lungs. His heart pounds in his throat, like the frenzied hoofbeats of a wounded animal. His fists clench, fighting in vain against the tide that drags his mind back to the hell they’d just clawed out of.

Desperately, he digs beneath the silence, enhanced senses searching for ground, for the blanketing whir of the engines or the dull hum of hyperspace to keep him in his body. Instead, he hears Wrecker a dozen feet away, sitting on the ledge of the tailgun pit, his breath leaving him in short bursts that he tries to disguise. Unbidden, Hunter’s chest seizes, forcing his eyes away from his brother’s pained expression. Too long ago had their fury burnt out and left them with only the ashes of their grief. And yet, when Hunter turns his senses to the front of the Marauder, he alights on Echo’s heartbeat: steady, slow, rhythmic as marching drums. No trace of pain lingers in his expression – his brow is set but uncreased, his jaw square but slack. Hunter’s upper lip twitches. Among the ashes, an ember sparks to life.

            It had been this way since that first moment. Since the worst had happened. Fleeing like beaten strays, hey had returned to Ord Mantell and touched down at Cid’s with broken bones the least of their pains. It shamed him to admit it, but Hunter had almost been relieved that he had Omega’s condition to focus on, to keep his mind away from where it kept trying to stray. From the look on Tech’s face as he vanished beneath the clouds. He stayed by Omega’s bedside, despairing in her every exhale, cursing himself and all he had done to lead his squad here, before she inhaled again and started the cycle anew. Wrecker was listless, aimless, his limbs seeming for once as heavy and cumbersome to him as they did to everyone else. He had been slumped over the bar when Hunter had left him, staring into the stained benchtop like it would give him an answer.

            And Echo. Echo, who had stayed on the ship to review holomaps and plot possible flightpaths. Echo, who had come to Hunter with a list of questions about their next destination, about supplies and inventory. Echo who had passed out rations, splitting Tech and Omega’s shares among the three of them without so much as a sigh. As if their entire world hadn’t just ground to a screeching, violent halt. As if ration bars and blaster repair had any meaning at all anymore. It was absurd. Unthinkable. Hunter could scarcely make sense of what Echo was doing, couldn’t even gather the sense to feel anger at his apathy. Instead, when Echo had offered the rations, Hunter had merely stared his brother down, his face clearly betraying his dismay, and searched Echo for any sign of acknowledgement of what had happened. When Echo’s expression showed only confusion at a lack of answer, Hunter had pushed silently past Echo, leaving him on the ship to run routine maintenance like this was any other day.

            Hunter had not felt his confoundedness give way to anger until after the next catastrophe. Until now, with Omega long gone, torn straight from their very hands. Hunter can barely stand to keep breathing, and still Echo sits before him, tapping away at a datapad, eyes moving in deliberate, unhurried arcs across the screens.

“There’s an outpost not far from here we can stop at to resupply,” he says, and the emptiness of his voice enrages Hunter. There’s nothing there. No pain, no crushing weight of guilt or horror, no sign that Echo is, like Wrecker and himself, standing with his toes over a precipice and leaning forward. His statement goes unanswered, and Echo does not even waver at this.

            Hunter finally snaps when Echo makes his way to Tech’s shelf, leans down, and digs into Tech’s pouch to fish out a handful of credits.

“The hell are you doing?” he says, his voice a low, warning growl. Echo straightens.

“We need plast to patch up our armour and bacta for the wounds,” he replies, and his voice is so kriffing sensible that Hunter wants to scream. “Won’t be cheap. We need all the credits we can get.”

“So you go rifling through your dead brother’s bags to get them?”

This, finally, gives Echo pause. He draws his chin up, tightens his jaw. A crease has appeared at his brow.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know damn well what it means,” Hunter snarls. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Echo studies Hunter’s face for a long, lingering moment. The longer his brother’s eyes search him, the more Hunter feels the impulse to do something he’ll regret. He feels raw, volatile. A fire starved for fuel.

“We need to stay focused,” Echo says finally. “We have a mission to complete.” As infuriating as Echo’s eyes had been on him, it’s worse when Echo looks away and turns his attention back to the console. Hunter lets the flames consume him, anger searing away the pain like a cauterised wound.

            “Doesn’t seem like you care a whole lot either way,” he hears himself say, and Echo’s head snaps up like he’s just been shot at. He stands.

“Is there a problem, Hunter?”

“You tell me, Echo. Sure seems like you’re not having a single problem here.”

Silence senses its opening and begins once again to stalk the two of them, but before it can sink its teeth in it is disturbed by a soft, pained groan from across the cockpit. Hunter is taken aback by the sight: Wrecker looks small.

“Don’t,” he pleads. Through the barricade of Wrecker’s arms, Hunter can just barely see Wrecker worrying Lula’s ear between his fingers. “No fighting. Not now. We can’t.”

Echo’s sigh is heavy, his eyes falling momentarily shut.

“I know this is hard. But we need to stay on our feet here. We can’t afford to slow down.” “Do you hear yourself?! Can’t afford to slow down?! We just lost a brother and let the karking Empire take Omega, and you’re talking about staying on our feet?!” Hunter can’t tell if the tremble in his voice sounds as clear as it feels, whether it’s the grief or the anger that wins. Either way, he has edged over the precipice and plunged into freefall, no other way out now than to go down, down, down.

            “Hunter, I know how much it hurts. Really, I—” “Could’ve fooled me,” he spits, the words venomous, weaponised. “From where I’m sitting, you’re doing a pretty lousy job of pretending to care.”

If Hunter had been anywhere close to his own mind, he would have regretted the words as soon as they’d spilled from his lips. But they had burst forth from him as though he were only a bystander. In fact, he scarcely felt he was in control of his own limbs, until Echo’s next words brought him plummeting back down into his body with a weight like solid stone.

            “Do you know how many times I’ve been through this?” he utters.

His voice is soft, suddenly coreless, like the first dregs of a gathering fog. It’s enough of a shock to strike Hunter dumb. Echo continues nonetheless.

“You’ve never lost one of your own before. Not like this. Not like how we lost Tech.” The name is a hail of shrapnel in Hunter’s chest. His ears prick: Echo’s breath shudders when he inhales. “But I have.”

The words hang thick in the air, demanding silence in their wake. Hunter has not thought much of Echo’s time with the other regs. Has never really thought of Echo as a reg at all. The reality comes to him all at once, discordant and unwelcome, like a dozen different songs played over each other. He clenches his jaw and forces himself to meet his Echo’s piercing gaze.

“Do you have any idea how many brothers I’ve seen die?” he breathes. He does not look away. Does not even blink. “Do you have any idea how many I didn’t get to see die?”

            There is nothing beneath the silence now. When Hunter searches for it, the whir of the engine is not there, and the dull hum of hyperspace has faded away to nothing. Not even the sound of his own breathing reaches him.

“Every time,” Echo quavers, his resolve at long last beginning to crack, “Every time I stepped off a battlefield, there was another handful of brothers I’d already said my last words to. Sometimes weeks ago.” Echo’s eyes shine, his lip trembling with a memory he does not give voice to. “Sometimes years.”

“Echo, I—”

“You think it doesn’t hurt for me that Tech’s gone? That we lost Omega? Of course it kriffing hurts. Of course I feel it. How could I not? That pain… it’s the most familiar feeling I have.”

It’s too much. Hunter falters, breaks his eyes from Echo’s. His gaze falls, landing on his brother’s shaking hand instead. Echo continues. “We’re soldiers. We lay down our lives for what we believe in. And I, for one, respect Tech’s sacrifice too much to waste it by letting the pain get the better of me.”

            There’s a type of guilt that has claws. A type of guilt that shreds you from the inside out and leaves you hollow and weightless. A type of guilt that burrows into your memories and tears holes in your past, letting light shine through from the present to show you every ignorant thought and deed in bright, garish light. Hunter tries to speak, but words are beyond him, his mouth hanging useless and ajar. It’s Wrecker who breaks the cold war between them. He stands, plods softly over to Echo. Lula still held tightly in one hand, the other laid gentle but firm on Echo’s shoulder.

“I got a few credits to spare for bacta,” he says. Echo regards him for a long moment, then lays his own hand atop Wrecker’s. The quiet vulnerability in the look they share is what draws Hunter to his feet. There are a thousand words he wants to say. That he would say, if he thought any of it would be worth more than the quiet nod he shares with his brother as he approaches the console.

“Show me the flight plans you were working on.”

[forfoxessake]

2022 is over. The year in review.

It wasn’t a great year. This mostly post-pandemic year was filled with anxiety and changes. I could hardly focus on anything so there are only a few things that were truly memorable.

 I was able to reconnect with music, after many years barely listening to anything, suddenly it was the only thing that I could enjoy without having to force myself to pay attention, I could just feel. 

I found that I still pretty much love MCR and one thing I could focus on was watching the live streams from their Return tour, every night a different set list, different memories. It really helped me get through my days -  funny how they are still out there saving lives 20 years later. 

I saw 113 films, read 64 books and seen many series. 

Here are some of my favorites, in no particular order:

MOVIES

Aftersun (2022) - definitely my favorite movie this year, nothing made me feel as much as the last 30 minutes of this film.

Petite Maman (2021) -  there’s like 5 people in this movie, it’s mostly two litte girls playing around I loved every second of it.

The Worst Person in the World (2021) - being an adult is hard and we don’t have to know everything

Dial M for Murder (1954) - had a very special time seeing this, and it’s really good. 

Mars One (2022) - another movie with a wonderful kid who dreams bigger than anything in the world

C’mon C’mon (2021) - my favorite films this year all starred little kids, there are moments here so precious

The Lost Daughter (2021) - my first film this year and I still remember it so vividly. 

CODA  (2021) - the big Oscar winner and I still agree with this decision, it’s precious and memorable. 

The Green Knight (2021) - Not enough people have seen this, Dev Patel and Alicia Vikander have my heart forever

Metal Lords (2022) - made me remember my teenage years and why I loved music/metal so much 

Licorece Pizza (2021) - I need to watch this again but I remember feeling so good while seen this on the big screen 

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) - my second favorite movie this year, it seems crazy but its really not. 

BOOKS

The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: National Anthem  by Gerard Way and  Shaun Simon -  I loved reading it, I remember not being very into the Danger Days themes and at that point not even listening to music at all anymore, coming back to things and falling in love with this world was a special thing.

I Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes with Death by  Maggie O'Farrell - one of the most beautiful conversations about death that I have ever read, here death it’s not something distant, it’s a thing that we brush hands with everyday.

My Life Had Stood a Loaded Gun by  Emily Dickinson - I finally finished the Dickinson tv series on Apple TV+ and I just had to read some of her work, this collection was on my nightstand for many months and I read it over and over again.

TV SERIES

The Staircase - I was addicted to both the 2022 HBO tv mini-series and the original documentary from 2004, it’s a wild ride and it still makes me question so many things.

The Bear - at a time I could barely focus on anything, I managed to nearly binge watch this show, I can’t explain why it’s impossible to take our eyes off of it, but it’s brilliant and immersive and intense. 

House of The Dragon - I really had low expectations for this and it blew my mind every sunday, it might be better than GOT.

Star Trek: Lower Decks - If you are looking for a comedy sci-fi series that doesn’t take itself too seriously and knows how to entertain and mantain a cohesive plot this is it. So far, three seasons of pure joy. 

Irma Vep -  Olivier Assayas had one of the most brilliant moments in any media this year and almost no one saw it, it’s a shame that so many are missing out one of the best tv series ever. 

MUSIC 

 Past Lives by  L.S. Dunes (2022) - I pratically lived off this album since it was released in past two months, its perfect, there’s not one bad song. 

I’m probably forgetting other things that I liked, this is a sad list compared to other years and I will try to make better choices this year. 

2021

[catboyelimgarak]

Side-piece writing Sugar Baby Julian ( titled "Something's Has To Give"), I really like this beginning and the next part I'm dabbling in with a bunch of other WIPs. Won't be posting to AO3 anytime soon, but a few snippets on here so I can feel a sense of accomplishment

Cardassians seemed to enjoy throwing ginormous parties when they liked. Glamorous too in their high-ceiling homes on acres of land that he would not dare to calculate. There had been so many in the past month, he stopped trying after the fourth one in his first week on the planet. Even counting the doors he passed by as he tailed behind his benefactor had become a self-imposed chore.

Always the similar chandeliers, always a show of not only how many glistening, jeweled, antiques were owned, but of course what marvelous apparel the hosts wore. The ridged species were lovely in their own natural right, yet they felt the need to add on with dazzling accessories and expensive wardrobes. It became apparent to him that heavy gowns and waistcoats were in style. He’d have to ask his benefactor if that was only seasonal.

Said man was nodding his head politely to the three others at his side. Garak had spoken about his distaste in being the center of attention — to be given any of it — yet how could the older man not when he dressed so stylishly. Garak disclosed his work as a tailor, all his work done at home instead of his shop only a few blocks away. It was no shocker that he wore an undershirt, waistcoat, cravat, and trousers that perfectly accentuated his blue eyes. The latter being what would single him out in any room if not his smartly chosen outfit.

Not caring to watch the cardassian make small-talk, it was with a small jump and sharp inhale that five-clawed fingers raked down his neck.

“What a delightful creature! Who is it? What is it?”

In that very second Garak was so suddenly at the other side. He was good at being silent and quick.

“This, my dear friend, is a he-oo-man, and his name is Julian.” Garak’s smooth voice spoke.

It was funny how aliens pronounced ‘Human’ in their own ways, but Julian knew better than to laugh or let himself go un-scolded (even by himself). He didn’t care to speak up, trusting his benefactor to do that.

“Oh my,” the claws twisted so the dangerous ends weren’t on him anymore, going as far as to attempt caressing up his neck before Garak’s hand grabbed it’s wrist. The new cardassian looked up sharply, then shurgged into herself. “He’s quite handsome.”

“I know, please be careful. He-oo-mans are delicate beings, just look at his lack of ridged or scutes!” Then Julian knew whose hands were on his body. It wouldn’t be the first time Garak had been so bold in laying the leather bottoms of his fingers on Julian. It was purely for show in who was as Julian’s patron — he who was providing funds, home, meals, and companionship. In return they had agreed that careful and meaningless touches were acceptable (“I only wish to enjoy your warmth and be sure that you are in good health”).

Julian thought nothing of it since he enjoyed physical touching as long as he consented, and nothing else was being being felt besides the comfort of being cared for. He allowed the careful brush of Garak’s hardened fingers over the bottom of his neck where a sliver dark flesh laid bared. The curl over the spot like a well-meaning hold eased Julian, a promise of protection from unwanted touches: you can not touch him.

“Like the exotic pet.”

Julian knew he was frowning, bristling even, not caring to hide he sharp side-eye up at the woman; the tight squeeze from Garak’s hand confirmed he too was not taken with the words, but he was far better at hiding it and playing the social-game.

“Please, he is no pet, he is my Ka’del.”

“Where did you meet him? What are his worthy talents?”

“He’s to be a doctor! Julian was in need of assistance when I met him, and he has such promise!”

“A woman’s career though? Surely he has other talents to support than such a silly dream.”

Julian parted his lips to counter the sexist remark, only for Garak to beat him to it. “Hee-oo-man males are doctors on their planet too. All are welcomed to be anything they desire and train for. Julian is already half-way done with his training, he’s come to Cardassia to finish the last of it.”

The woman nodded and gave a small smile Julian had every reason to believe was forced. Cardassians were known xenophobes and strict in their society. “I’m sure he will make a good doctor.”

Then she and Garak shared a polite, though curt, little bow before she was off to bother some other poor person.

Realizing he had been holding his breath, Julian kept it a silent exhale under his breath. Another quick squeeze and he looked up to Garak. His patron was smiling where it didn’t touch his eyes that, for the first time since they arrived, were gentle. “Worry not, my dear.”

Yet Julian found little comfort in that.

[mjmagics]

Time Loop prt 1

Note: I wanted to make sure I got to post it today! Rick and Morty season 6 comes out tonight!!!!

Summary: a young teacher’s father causes a time loop paradox. Rick Sanchez, the smartest man in the universe, attempts to fix yet another mistake not caused by him. 

Word Count: 5k+

Rating: Mature Minors do not interact 

Warnings: its rick and morty, don’t be stupid. Drug use, alchol, underage drinking (only summer tho, I’d be lying if i said i wasn’t drinking at 17 but I do not recommend nor condone), mentions of child abuse, talking about foster care and adoption, parental death (mother and father), and as always shitty writing. 

This is chapter one of The Mechanic’s Daughter 

August 10th, 12:58 pm. Universe C-1**

Today was a rough start for the iconic grandfather and grandson duo. Plus Summer, she was there too. Through a complicated turn of events, Morty messed with time. Maybe it was Summer. The adult of the group had no idea which one messed with time, both denied the crime. Rick had been in the time loop for three days, he realized it by the second day as it was the repeated one. He managed to pull both his grandkids out of the loop, but not enough for it to stop. Messing with time is a bad idea. Something the older man lectured, or more often muttered with profanities.  

The activity or goal for today was to run around town and see if they could awaken others in the time loop. Rick knew that the time police would show up and set things right (and if they took too long Rick would fix it) so he decided to mess around. Time loops sucked, he should be amused at the least. The activity or goal for today was to run around town and see if they could awaken others in the time loop. After sending the kids to the grocery store to yell at cashiers and then the local churches to harass the priests, Rick decided to up the game: send the kids to school. 

Summer was running around the main hallway screaming at her peers. “The world is ending! You need to wake up! You’re stuck in a time loop!” The teen girl cried. She was frantically pacing past the lockers, pulling out her phone and signing in disappointment. “Grandpa, my phone still won't work!” In the time loop phones don’t work unless you're unaware of the time loop. Then everything you do on your phone is simply replayed. It was an easy encouragement to get help from the lazy girl if her phone is kaput. 

“Gre-great work, Sumsum. Showing them the truth of the universe. The only way to get your phone working,” Rick chuckled. He tagged along to watch his grandkids embarrass themselves with no natural consequence. At least for this day. The man watched as a group of kids brushed past Summer. The words ‘crazy’ and ‘druggie’ was passed around as they laughed. He couldn’t take Summer’s embarrassment anymore so he turned his attention to his grandson. 

Morty was following around a girl who was out of his league. Jesse was it? She was speed walking through the hallway, trying to ignore the boy’s pestering. “Awe, man, Jesse. I-I know it's hard to understand, but this is the second time I’ve- that I- we already talked about this. Am I getting to you?” 

Any more of this and Rick would blow his brains out. The man huffed, waving a hand. “Hey, kids,” He started, but a pull on his lab coat stopped him. Which hormone-filled child dare touch him? Rick turned to see a young woman with green hair and blue, barely over the age of 24, tugging on him. “Wh-eeurgh-what do you want?” 

The woman looked anxious, nibbling on her bottom lip. “You need to help me,” she mouthed, nodding towards the classroom behind her. Floating around was a testicle monster (we use that word loosely as it is technically a 4th-dimensional being). The classroom’s door read room 132 and “Miss Appleborn”. Rick’s eyes traveled down to the woman’s heaving chest, her name tag also said Appleborn. 

“Miss, Uh- Appleborn, is it? Do you know what is in your classroom?” He pondered. The woman shook her head no, still attached to the scientist's sleeve. “Do you know what day it is today?” 

This time the woman spoke. “Today is August 13th, but everyone keeps telling me it's the 10th. Even my stupid phone and none of my calls will go through, but I receive a call from my father at precisely midnight. I can’t answer it and all I get is a voicemail of him screaming.” 

“W-woah, that got dark,” Morty chimed from behind Rick. He wasn’t there a moment before, so this caused the teacher to scream a bit and tug on the scientist’s lab coat. 

Rick jumped, but mainly because the woman pulled his sleeve in fear, “Jesus, Morty, haven’t you ever learned to not s-sneak.. u-uh- come out of nowhere?” The man sighed, rubbing his forehead. He shook the teacher off him and pulled out his flask, taking a swing. “Come on juveniles, grandpa and your nice teacher have some chatting to do.” 

“Grandpa?” She questioned before looking at the two teens rushing over. “Summer, Morty, this is the grandpa you spoke about?” It was almost as if she wasn’t just panicking a moment ago. Miss. Appleborn followed Rick, trying to adjust to his pace. Morty and Summer followed too, but unlike their instructor, they could keep up.

“Yeah, like, this is our main grandpa, I guess. Dad has his parents but this is grandpa Rick. He lives with us,” Summer stated, pulling out her phone. She sighed when she saw the same messages. “Ugh, can we get out of this? I miss contact with people who aren’t total zombies.” 

“Not at the moment, sweetheart,” Rick groaned. Once the quartet made it off school property, the man slowed down. He turned around, still walking towards their car, but enough to be able to see the woman. “Nice to meet you, Appleborn. I have a lot of questions to ask you, such as why the time police are after you. I have a warning though, touch me again- without permission- and they’ll be- eeugh- they’ll have to clean you off the floor.” 

“It’s nice to meet you too, uh-” The woman paused. “Grandpa Rick?” 

The man groaned, head rolling back slightly. He extended a hand to the woman. “Rick Sanchez. Never call me grandpa again.” 

Miss Appleborn took his hand and shook it. “Emma Appleborn, call me Emma.” She smiled innocently at the man before pulling away. “You too, kids. As long as it's outside of my workplace.” 

“Teacher friend, lame.” Summer sighed. “The only teachers who hang around kids are those who birthed them and like pedos.” 

“Ignore Summer, Miss Ap- uh- Em-Emma,” Morty bashfully stated. He quickly averted the gaze of his grandfather who was glaring at both of the kids. 

Miss Appleborn, well, Emma, smiled. “I’m pretty used to Summer’s pestering and comments. She is in my English 3, or creative writing.” 

“Wow, an English major. How fucking lame.” Rick rolled his eyes before stopping abruptly at a red car. He walked over to the driver's side and smashed the window in, groaning when the car alarm rang. “Fuck, can’t anything go my way?” The man reached in and unlocked the door, swinging it open. “Kids, get it the back.” Summer and Morty obeyed their grandfather, Emma supervised from the sidewalk, amazed by the natural leadership Rick displayed. “Y-y-eeeugh. . . You too, Appleborn.” He grinned at her, one so false it made her stomach churn. He also began tapping the passenger seat. 

Emma did what he said, though, ignoring her anxieties. Once she was in and buckled, she turned to the man who now seemed taller than before. “Where are we going?” 

“Well, where do you live?” 

It turns out Emma and the Smith family only lived a block away from each other, Morty and Summer pointed out their house when they passed. Rick yelled at them, saying to not give out addresses to strangers. Summer pointed out that Emma was not a stranger but their teacher. 

“Well, this is home for me,” Emma explained as she stepped out of the car. The house was a cookie-cutter suburban house. Two stories, one garage, a square-shaped yard, and a row of bushes in the flower beds. The house was painted canary yellow, her father’s favorite color. Emma’s heart ached at her fond memory. “I wish I could introduce you to my father, but he uh– well…” The teacher scrunched her face, a debate in her mind. “He's not here.” 

Rick raised half of his unibrow in confusion before shrugging it off. “Well, I’m starved. Got any-buuuurgh- any food?” He was shutting the car door, peering around to do a headcount. 

“Yeah, I can make something. I also have leftover spaghetti,” the teacher stated as she opened her front door. The children walked inside first, then Emma as Rick held the door for her. She couldn’t tell if he was being a gentleman or if he simply wanted to be the last person in. 

Inside the house, the first room is the living room, with the stairs to the second floor on the left hand as you walk in. There is no walkway or mudroom, so shoes are askew throughout the space. 

“Spa-euugh! I think that will be fine,” Rick stated, sitting down on a tan recliner. The kids began to sit on a worn-out leather couch. “Kind of a disaster here.” 

“Oh, well,” Emma cleared her throat before walking into the kitchen. There was a small divider in the wall other than the doorway. It acted as a window. She slid it open, revealing it to be part of a bar, but no stools were prepared. “My dad is kinda… He doesn’t want things messed with or he will forget where things are at. Smartest man I know, but sometimes he's foolish.” 

This seemed to pique the interest of both Morty and his grandfather. “H-how…u-umm. How smart is your dad? L-li-like what does he do?” Morty questioned, looking over to the old man in the chair. 

Emma chuckled to herself as she put a plate of what the group assumed to be spaghetti into the microwave. “My dad is a diesel mechanic. He doesn’t have any degrees or anything, but his brain is beyond anything I can recognize.” She returned to the living room to peer at the group. “He didn’t graduate high school he dropped out in the middle of his eighth-grade year.” 

“W-wow,” Rick stated, burping directly after. He seemed to be having problems with bodily gas. Emma noted it in her mind, her first thought going to her biological grandmother’s gastral intestinal ulcers that caused the woman to belch uncontrollably. “I’ve always said the school isn’t a place for s-s-smart people.” 

Summer and Morty nodded to Rick’s response. Emma walked back to the kitchen as the microwave was beeping. She brought back a plate to the older man. She held it in one hand while her free hand pulled a tv stand from behind the couch the children lounged on. She set it up with the help of her hip. It was a smooth motion, something she's done nearly every day for her father. “My dad would agree, but he always pushed for me to stay in school. He said I had a future. I wanted to be an astronaut or work for NASA as an artist who depicts what the telescopes are picking up. You know where I ended up.” She sat down in the recliner next to Rick’s, they were separated by a small side table that held Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin. 

“F-f-f-f-fuck NASA,” Rick spat. “Better off as a teacher. At least you aren’t doing lame and-euuugh- fake astrophotography.” 

“Fake?” Emma tilted her head before giggling. “Let me guess, NASA never made it to the moon and space is an illusion.” 

“Space is very much so real,” The old man huffed. He held up a finger and began shoveling food into his mouth, slurping the noodles. Two awkward minutes pass before he speaks again, and the time was spent with Emma, Summer, and Morty all eying each other and trying not to giggle. “I go there all the time, I’ll take you once we're out of the time loop.” 

“How do you know about the time loop?” Emma asks, closing the subject on space. She didn’t forget it, she just knew the loop was a more important matter. 

“Grandpa Rick is like the smartest man in the universe,” Summer answered. 

“N-Not just our universe. All his infinite selves are the smartest man in their universes, so he's uh–.”

“The smartest man for infinity?” The teacher questioned. 

“Basically,” Rick responded. “I have backups in case something like this happens. My grandkids have fucked with time before,” He shrugged. He watched as the green-haired teacher’s eyes grew wide. “It doesn’t matter why I know there is a time loop, it is not surprising when I can tell something is wrong. How do you know about the time loop?” 

Emma sighed, shaking her head. “My dad, he uh. He has been working on something ever since his wife died. Something to change the outcome of our reality.” The woman pulled out her phone, pressed a few apps and buttons, and began to play a voice mail. 

“Hey, kiddo. Its dad. I hate to tell you this but I’m not going to be home for breakfast.” There is a pause in his speaking, the sounds of an engine trying to turn over are all that could be heard before a line of cussing and what sounds like Emma’s father hitting the steering wheel. “Just know that papa loves you. So so much. You are the best blessing I have ever been given. I wanted to save you. Go back in time and… I don’t know what I was thinking. I erased you. I went too far back, harassed the wrong people.” The man paused once again, clearing his throat. He began to sound choked, Emma knew he was holding back tears. “I will fix things, I promise. I'll find a way to get back home. I’ll fix this. I will always find you,” The recording ends with the man screaming in what seems to be extreme pain and when the Smith children look at Emma there are tears in her eyes. 

Rick was silent, rubbing the brim of his nose. “Someone with the ability to time jump lived so near to me,” The man muttered, shaking his head. “I can fix this, find me his blueprints.” 

Emma seemed taken back by Rick’s rush and irritated tone. She shouldn’t have expected it but she hoped for a moment to regain her composure. She wiped her eyes, thankful that she didn’t wear makeup. Standing up, she turned her back on rick and the kids. If her father taught her anything it was to not show emotions until you were alone. “I’ll be back.” 

It took about ten minutes of listening to Emma panic to search the garage before Rick and Morty both stood up. “T-time to help her, I-I guess.” Morty nervously chuckled, watching Summer stand too. 

The grandfather and his grandkids made it to the garage shortly after, only to find Emma in a corner on a ripped red bar stool. There were four others scattered around. The stools looked like they belonged in a Nascar-themed bar. The woman was taking a puff off a device. Once she noticed the group she quickly hid it behind her back, the smoke still in her throat. 

“We can stand around waiting for you to have a coughing fit, or you can pass that over to me,” Rick remarked. Emma turned back to them, her face flushed with embarrassment before she did as he said. “What's in here?” 

“A-a hybrid,” the woman responded. Rick put it to his lips before pulling, face slightly contorted. “It's a mix of delta 8 and delta 9. It doesn’t put you on your ass, but it helps with my attacks.” 

“Yo, can I hit that?” Summer vocalized. Emma shook her head no as a coughing fit started. “Well, it's not like it would affect me that much. The shit I do in space is so much better.”

“What, um… Gods this is so awkward,” the teacher giggled bashfully to herself. 

“There is no, god, sweetheart. The Sooner you come to terms with that the better,” Rick announced. He passed the pen to Summer who quickly hit it. 

“Yeah, I know that,” The woman huffed, desperately trying to form words. “What do you do in space?” 

The scientist who began perusing the garage shrugged. “Anything I want to do. I’ll take you if we get out of the loop. These things are weird and usually only affect an area versus the whole world.” The man found a rolled-up paper and unraveled it. “Woah, your dad used a 1984 Crown Victoria as his f-fucking time machine,” Rick howled with a laugh. “I-I can’t f-fu-fucking-euuugh- wait to meet the man.” 

“Damn, he's using s-s-such an old car. F-funny how it a-a time machine,” Morty pointed out. 

Emma got to her feet and snatched her pen back from Summer. “Yeah, dad had a lot of memories in the Vic. He told me about rolling blunts and hotboxing in there when he was with his first wife.” 

“How old is your dad?” Summer pondered. The girl was fixing her ponytail, scanning the garage for clues or answers about Emma’s father. 

“Oh, uh, I think he's in his early sixties. He was like fifty-six or seven when he adopted me,” The green-haired lady responded. “His wife was the same age. My mom, I guess, but she died early in my time with them.” 

“How early?” 

“Well, I was here for a year. She died when I was almost sixteen, and then I was adopted about two months after her passing.” Emma shrugged her shoulders. The woman seemed unbothered, stating facts rather than traumatic events in her life. “She was nice but sick. I almost was rehomed when she was diagnosed but open foster homes are kinda scarce in this area.” 

Morty reached out to his teacher, placing a clammy hand on her shoulder. “C-cancer?” He asked, and she only nodded. “I figured. Y-y-you bonded with Jessica when her grandfather passed away.” 

“Everyone dies,” Rick interrupted. “And I can tell Emma already knows that pretty well, so let us get back on task.” 

In nearly four hours, Rick could decode, rewrite, and recreate what Emma’s father took twenty-nine years to create. There was a feeling of dread in the woman’s stomach as she watched the man work. Her dad was smart but Rick was on a different level. 

“It is like kinda weird,” Summer admitted while the two females were taking a snack break. “He is so smart with math and science and stuff. Also really good at trivia, but he doesn’t know like… life I guess. Like he does he's alive and he knows how to live in the moment, but he doesn’t think about others all the time. Rick acts as he does but everything he does is self-motivated. To prove someone wrong. God or himself, or whatever.” 

Emma laughed dryly. “Yeah, I get that. My dad is the same way. He uh- he has some mental issues, my dad. Bipolar I think. He won't go in for it but he shows a lot of signs. Maybe that's me trying to cope with some of the negatives of my dad. He's a great person, a shitty father. He had money to provide for a child, though. Time to do it too. He tried his best.” 

“You never told me his name.” 

“Oh, my dad is named Terrance Willbur Appleborn,” The name felt funny to the ears belonging Summer, causing her to laugh. She apologized but Emma was laughing too. “Yeah, he likes to be called Terry, for obvious reasons. Terrance is such a bad name! Like, what is my dad? A balcony?” 

As the girls giggled with each other the two others were in the garage fighting. 

“A-are you trying to m-mess me up, Morty?” Rick rambled, throwing things around frantically. “I-I am trying to fix time, Morty. You keep g-getting in my way.” 

Morty, who was trying to calm the man down, was panicking. “Oh, geez, I’m sorry Rick.” The kid muttered. “I-I found the flathead screwdriver you needed.” 

“Awe, thanks, Morty,” Rick grumped, grabbing it from the kid as he took a swig from his flask. “H-hey, can you ask your buuuurgh- ask your teacher if she has any drinks? N-not the kiddy kind, like adult drinks. Yeah- ask her for booze.” 

“W-what if she doesn’t have any?” Morty pondered, though he was a bit worried that if the woman couldn't provide what he needed, the older man may throw a fit and turn into an ass. 

Rick shrugged, “then we will have to get some.” 

The boy walked out of the Appleborn garage and went to the porch where Summer and Emma sat on the stairs. They were laughing together. Although the moment felt sweet, Morty had to interrupt it. “H-hey, Miss Appleborn- I-I mean Emma!” 

“Morty, stop being a spaz,” Summer groaned. “I thought you got over your weird stage, ugh.” 

“Hey, Summer. It's all good. What's up, Morty?” The woman asked. Morty sat down on the cement in front of them, sighing as he lay back on the ground. 

“Grandpa Rick wants booze,” Is all he said, covering his eyes with his forearm. “He’s going to be an asshole until he gets drunk or high, it's how he always works.” 

“Oh,” Emma paused, shaking her head. “O-okay. Well, since my dad was supposed to be gone for the day I did buy like boxed wine so my friends and I could get crossed as we did in our sophomore year of college.” She stood up, brushing debris from her bottom. “Come help me. Summer, you can drink as long as you promise not to tell anyone in the school or your parents.” This earned a cheer from the seventeen-year-old. “No, Morty, you cant.” 

“I-I-I didn’t want to, a-anyways,” Morty stated. “But I will help bring stuff to Rick.” 

The group went inside, going to the woman’s room upstairs. The bedroom was standard: in the far left corner sat a queen-sized bed with lavender bedsheets and a pink comforter with crescent moons and black cats decorating it; on the same wall between the windows sat a black bookshelf filled with fantasy books, manga, comics, and pop funkos; there was a desk on the opposite wall next to the door filled with papers that needed grading; another wall held a door that was ajar to show a small bathroom. 

“Welcome to my home,” Emma said. “The wine is in my bathtub, give me a second,” She hummed, walking in and coming back out with three cardboard crates of wine. Each held the equivalent of two bottles. “Summer and Morty, take these down, I got something else to grab,” the woman muttered. The kids headed back to the garage, and even in her room, she could hear the happy cheer Rick made. Her stomach flipped from it, but she tried desperately to force it down. She couldn’t place what made her feel that way, or even what the feeling was so she took an anxiety med before grabbing her pipe, grinder, and small stash bag of weed. 

When the teacher returned to the garage Summer and Rick had placed themselves to sit against Terry’s toolbox, heads tilted up as two of the boxed wines had their nozzles directly above them. The two were chugging the wine this way while Morty filmed on his phone. Rick was the first to notice her and he waved, tapping Summer’s thigh. She ended up choking due to this, the wine going out her nose. She bent awkwardly, causing the red liquid to drip down her neck before Rick could stop the nozzle. 

Emma was biting her bottom lip, trying desperately not to laugh. “Morty, did you get it?” Summer screamed, running to him. He nodded, playing it back and earning a loud giggle from his sister. “YES! I’m totally going to post it. Caption uh– ‘hashtag party at the Appleborn house?’” 

“Uh, no,” Emma stated, putting her hands on her hips. “We don’t know what might cause the time loop to break and if you post it and we have to face the consequences tomorrow I would be fired and probably charged with providing for minors, you’d be kicked out of school, and your grandpa would be placed in a nursing home with dementia.” 

Rick blurted out laughing, “Wow, Emma, that's the-the the first time anyone has used eeugh dementia as a threat.” The man shook his head in amusement. “I agree with the English major though, sumsum. I don’t know what will take us out of the loop, so don’t-” 

“Don’t post it,” Summer sighed. “I get it. Sorry, Emma.” 

“It is more than okay, Summer,” Emma stated. “I know what I’m getting into having you at my house to begin with, and I also know that, um…” The woman stopped speaking, pointing outside her garage. 

“Yep, that's a time cop,” Rick stated as he looked at the creature outside. “The thing is none of us are at fault for this one, just Emma’s dad. He might get an earful from these asshats when he gets back.” He began working on the time machine again, ignoring the creature. “Don’t pay attention to it and it will ignore you back. Go inside and watch tv, if it goes inside do not look at it. These guys are swifty but also complete idiots. Pretend it's a t-rex, don’t move and it can't see you.” 

“That's a myth, you know,” Emma proudly vocalized. 

“Time travel isn’t uuuurgh my thing, babe,” Rick muttered. 

Morty raised an eyebrow, “b-but grandpa rick, we’ve faced dinosaurs on countless adventures.” “Shut it, Morty,” Rick stated, going back under the car with a wrench. “Stupid fucking kid pretending he knows everything, fucking smart ass. ‘But grandpa rick’, fuck you, Morty.” The old man muttered to himself. 

“Does he always treat you that way?” Emma questioned when the three of them made it to the living room, leaving the door to the garage open. She handed Summer a towel and the teen wrapped herself in it.

“Y-yeah, pretty much,” Morty sighed, watching the two as he sat down on the chair his grandfather occupied shortly before. “H-he’s a piece of shit. Yet, he still is good.” 

“I get that,” Emma sighed. There was a pause of silence before she continued. “He reminds me so much of my father. Well, not the drinking and drugs. My dad, he-uh- he stopped that long before I came around.” 

This seemed to pique Summer’s interest. “Emma, we don’t know like shit about you, and you know a lot about me and my brother. I want to know more. You’re like one of the most chill and understanding teachers we got. Plus you're like young and hot and stuff.” 

The woman laughed. “Thank you, Summer. Please do not call me ‘hot’ again.” There was another pause before she said: “If I tell you my epic backstory would that make you feel better?” 

“Well, yeah,” Summer nodded. 

Emma looked to Morty to see him watching her, interested in the story. “Okay, well, I was born in 1998. My biological mom was about thirty-seven, and my biological dad was only twenty-one. My mom had custody of one other child when I was born, my older sister Natalie,” Emma paused before standing up and grabbing a photo off a wall. She brought it back to the teens and showed them. In the photo was Emma, but around fifteen. Her hair was in a bun and brown not green, and her face was chubby and covered in freckles. There was another girl, she looked a little older. This girl had lighter hair than the young Emma, big almond eyes, and a devilish grin. 

“That's Natalie and me at fifteen and twenty-one. I had just been taken in by the family.” 

“Wait, how did you and your sister end up in the same home if you were adopted?” Summer pondered. 

“Well, we were both taken away from our mother when I was five. She had both of us with different men so I went to my dad's and Natalie went to hers. Turns out both of them sucked,” Emma shook her head as she put the picture back and grabbed a new one. This time she sat in the middle of the couch and both kids rushed to sit next to her. This photo showed a family of four: a young man with black hair, a woman with red hair, a little girl with Emma’s eyes, and a baby. “This is my biological dad, his wife Jane, me, and my baby sister Elizabeth.” 

Morty smiled at the picture but then looked at her. “This still isn't your dad though, right?” 

“Nope, this is a not-so-happy home,” Emma admitted. “My biological father and his wife had a baby at the same time they were given full custody of me. I loved Lizzie with all my heart, and not a day passes that I don’t think about how much I wish she was in my life. She’d be twenty-one now,” The woman sighed, turning the photo over. 

“I think I was about six when the car crash happened. It was only a few months before Lizzie would have turned two. There was a storm and the car hydroplaned. They were hit by a semi.” For a moment Emma could almost see the crash, even if she hadn’t been a part of it. “We mourned and missed them. My dad grew sick, not like physically but in his brain. Child protective services took me at twelve. Put into a foster home, then was rehomed to the Appleborn family. They had adopted my older sister when her dad went to jail so they knew me most of my life.” 

“That's so cool that they took you both in,” Summer stated. “I mean one of my friend's dad was caught with meth not that long ago and she hasn’t seen her baby brother in two weeks due to being separated.” 

There was a sympathetic nod from Emma. “The foster system is crazy.” A lull in the conversation formed before a bang in the garage alerted the group of Rick’s presence. The man rushed into the living room, tracking car oil. 

“I did it!” He exclaimed, jumping around and laughing. He grabbed Morty by the shoulders as he laughed, “I fucked with time, bitches! I’m fucking god!” 

“Hell yeah!” Morty cheered with a wary grin. He had grown to understand Rick’s madness after being forced into the position of ‘caretaker’. 

“Way to go, grandpa!” Summer also joined in, standing to jump around with the old man. 

Rick went to Emma and pulled the woman to her feet with ease. Pleasantly surprised by Rick’s friendly demeanor she decided to jump around with him. “We’re going to get out of this!” She grinned, wrapping her arms around Rick. 

Something snapped in the old man, and he pushed her to the ground. “I said-eeurgh- do not fucking touch me.” 

“What the fuck, Rick?” Morty exclaimed, rushing to help the woman. Summer was muttering shocked nonsense while rick argued back about how he warned the woman not to touch him. Once she was back on her feet the teen apologized for his grandpa. Emma didn’t care much because she could finally fix things. 

To be continued in chapter 2

[kpopfanfictrash]

A Holly, Jolly Crisis (M)

Author: @kpopfanfictrash as part of the Once Upon a Holiday... collaboration with @underthejoon , @fantasybangtan​ , @lamourche​ , @hobidreams​ , @suga-kookiemonster​ , @junghelioseok​  

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight made this ridiculously gorgeous moodboard TT

Pairing: Hoseok / Reader (female)

Genre: Ex-Best Friends to Lovers / Rom-Com / Angst (?) / Holiday

Word Count: 36,243

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for sexual content. Fingering, Hoseok has a dirty mouth, Y/N semi-jokingly offers to slap him & he’s into it, condom-less sex, squirting, multiple orgasms, rough sex. Multiple friends/family members mention the reader has lost weight, but the reader’s exact weight isn’t specified. Seokjin uses a spatula as a microphone.

Summary:   At this time last year, you thought you had it all. A kick-ass screenwriting job for the hottest TV show in LA, an actor boyfriend whose career was taking off and an affordable apartment with not one, but two bathrooms. Fast-forward to now and you’re single, soon-to-be jobless and searching for a way to scrape together January rent. Everything seems to be falling apart, which was why you told your family you weren’t coming home for the holidays. Enter your little sister, Sara, who recently became engaged to her boyfriend, Yoongi and needs you home to celebrate. The biggest problem? Returning home means you’ll be forced to face everything and everyone you left behind, including Yoongi’s best man – and your ex-best friend, Hoseok.

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

Thank you for taking the time to send our team your screenplay for One for the Money. It was a pleasure learning about your characters and ideas.

Unfortunately, we did not select your spec script at this time for further consideration.

Not wanting to read the rest of the rejection email, you returned to your inbox and moved the message to trash. Releasing a sigh, you slumped in the hard, plastic airport chair underneath you. This had to be your fifteenth rejection email this month, which didn’t bode well for your screenplay’s future.

The screenplay in question was your self-written TV series – One for the Money. You’d been working on it for years and had just begun sending it out to studios. When a screenplay was written outside a studio and shopped around after, it was often called a spec script. This stood for speculative screenplay and you supposed that right now, this was the best descriptor.

A screenplay without a studio was practically nothing. Speculative, indeed.

Glancing up from your phone, you saw the flight’s status on the board had moved from green to red – delayed. Stifling another sigh, you switched apps on the screen and checked the weather. Winter storms were sweeping through the Midwest, resulting in a delay of holiday travel. This was precisely the reason you hadn’t wanted to go home this year.

Well, it wasn’t the only reason you dreaded your return to Josen Falls. You hadn’t seen your family in over a year but had still planned to stay in LA over Christmas. A wrench had been thrown in these plans when your sister, Sara, became engaged to her boyfriend, Yoongi.

Yoongi had only had one request when it came to wedding planning – for them to be married in the same church his parents had been, a beautiful venue north of the city. Of course, the only available date within a three-year time frame was June 30th. Seven months was practically nothing to plan a wedding, but Sara was determined to make it happen; hence the need to have you at home.

Don’t get you wrong – of course, you were excited about Sara and Yoongi. You’d been the one who introduced them, after all, through your former best friend. They were perfect together and you were nothing but ecstatic to see your little sister so happy. The only unfortunate part about her life coming together was it happened to come at the same time as yours falling apart.

A year ago, you would’ve said you were on the right path. Things had been going well in nearly every part of your life. Your TV show was on its second season, you’d been dating Darren for nine months and had found a reasonably priced one-bedroom apartment in a coveted neighborhood. Everything had been looking up, considering your previous year in LA, where paychecks had been scarce, and you’d been dangerously close to asking your parents for money.

Now, you found yourself in the same situation. Uncertain where your next paycheck was coming from, recently single and unsure how you were going to make rent next month.

Your coveted Hollywood job had been as a screenwriter for The Drop, a critically acclaimed show which ended abruptly this year after a dispute with the main actor. The third – and final – season was set to air in the new year on Netflix, but after that you’d be out of a job.

Hence the desperate pitch of your spec script to every mainstream television producer with an open inbox. Suffice to say, things were not going well.

This was evidenced by the uncomfortable chair you’d squeezed yourself into, having been forced to give up your pass to Admirals Club. The cost couldn’t be justified right now. Forlornly, you stared at the ticket sticking out of your purse.

It had been nearly a year since you’d last visited home. At first, this hadn’t been a purposeful decision. You’d been swamped with work, preparing for the Golden Globes and seasons one and two of The Drop. Your ex-boyfriend, Darren, had been nominated for an Oscar last year, resulting in a lot of holiday parties to attend.

Last year, you’d been too busy to come, but all that had changed in a matter of months. It began back in March, when contract negotiations stalled with your leading actor, Tory River. Tory fancied himself a method actor, so when you refused to pay him the GDP of a small country, he decided to walk. Without him, the studio had to scrap the show. Better to leave things at three solid seasons than add a lukewarm fourth without the main star.

You were told in May the third season would be its last and were highly encouraged to seek out other shows. Nothing had panned out since and then, at the end of the summer, you were dealt another blow.

You should’ve known things were bad when Darren, your ex-boyfriend, called you himself instead of Molly, his assistant.

When you first met Darren Carmichael in LA, he was a struggling actor from Des Moines, Iowa. The Darren of September 2020 was no longer the Darren of early 2019, though – he’d long ditched the Midwest accent in favor of designer shades and loafers. High off his Oscar nomination and with job offers to spare, you should’ve suspected something was wrong from his genuine contriteness of tone.

The first thing he said to you was, “Did you pass a newsstand today?”

At first, you’d been baffled because no one walked past newsstands anymore. Logging into Twitter, you immediately saw why your boyfriend had been worried.

DARREN CARMICHAEL AND CO-STAR, JESSICA AVEC, CAUGHT CANOODLING ON SET OF RECENT MOVIE!

Frozen, you’d barely listened while he pleaded his case. Instead, you scanned the article and felt your insides tighten with each word. Darren and Jessica had been caught making out when no cameras were rolling. You were only mentioned as a footnote, and not even by name.

Darren was previously dating a screenwriter in LA, although this seems to have ended several weeks prior.

You had wanted to scream, wanted to call up the author and berate them for proper sources, but you didn’t do any of that. Instead, you sat dejectedly while Darren yammered on and on about why he’d done what he’d done.

That had been the worst part. He hadn’t apologized to you – not really. Instead, he’d gone on about how hard it had been for him to be away, surrounded and worshiped by more available people. You had your career, he’d argued. You had other things, you didn’t need him and what he felt for Jessica seemed like the real thing.

Darren thought you should break up so he could begin dating her.

Numbly, you’d hung up the phone and immediately blocked his number. That had been nearly three months ago, but the sting of the breakup remained.

It wasn’t as though Darren had changed overnight. When you first met, he’d been the super-cute barista at your favorite coffee shop. You two bonded over being unable to find appropriately caffeinated beverages in LA and the rest, as they say, was history.

Then Darren landed a role as a recurring character on a popular Netflix show. What seemed like overnight, he became America’s heartthrob. Still, Darren didn’t change right away. He went to work every morning, came home in the evenings and continued to attend the same parties, run in the same circles.

Soon though, Darren was invited to more exclusive gatherings and slowly, his invitations transitioned from “Darren plus date” to “just Darren.” You hadn’t protested at the time, not overly interested in canapés and pretentious conversation. The time you did spend together dwindled, going from Facetiming each night on his movie set to a harried phone call every other day.

Maybe you should’ve been more suspicious. In hindsight, all the warning signs had been there, but you’d been too busy and worried about The Drop’s future to do anything about it. Darren had become distant and withdrawn, but you’d been okay because you’d become distant, too.

After you blocked his number, you kicked him out of your apartment. Packing everything he owned in boxes, you set these on the lawn and shut the door. It was unfortunate it rained before he could pick them up, but that couldn’t be helped. You refused to see him again – you even went so far as to have your assistant, Jimin, pick up Darren’s keys.

Jimin had done so gleefully, perhaps too gleefully, but you didn’t care. Darren had tried to contact you a few more times, but eventually he got the hint and the last time you’d checked, he seemed blissfully happy with his vapid co-star.

Gritting your teeth, you exhaled. That wasn’t fair – you had no idea what Darren had told Jessica about you. For all you knew, she could’ve thought you two had been broken up.

Regardless, things had gone steadily downhill for you over the past year. Single, nearly unemployed and running low on your savings, you could easily call this a low point in your life. Worst of all – your family didn’t know the full extent of things.

They knew you’d broken up with Darren, of course – that had been front page news. They also knew your TV series was ending but had no idea you struggled as much as you were. Each time they called, you meant to tell them, but something managed to choke you every time.

Maybe it was how excited your mom was about the upcoming nuptials. Or maybe it was how diligently your dad watched The Drop. Admitting you didn’t have next steps felt like defeat, so you’d purposefully kept things brief until you had something to tell.

The problem was none of your next steps seemed to be panning out. Again, your mind wandered to the rejection email in your trash.

“Excuse me? Are you Y/N Y/L/N?”

Blinking, you looked up and felt your heart sink.

The guy standing before you looked around college-age, dressed in a MORDOR FUN RUN t-shirt and wire-rimmed glasses. Clutching his laptop to his chest, he looked at you hopefully and you felt your heart sink even further. He had to be a film nerd.

“Um, yeah,” you said, trying to smile. “That’s me.”

This had happened to you several times before. Even if you weren’t an actress, your name appeared at the end of every episode of The Drop. It hadn’t taken long for starry-eyed screenwriting ingénues to find you on Instagram.

Usually, you were patient in your responses, giving them as much advice as you could without being discouraging, but Lord of the Rings here had caught you on a bad night.

“No way!” he gushed. “I’m such a big fan of your writing. I swear, I’ve memorized the entire first season of The Drop.”

“Not the second, though?”

His face fell. “No, well – I, it’s a long series and…”

“I’m kidding,” you said with a smile. “That’s really nice.”

“I want to be a screenwriter myself, someday,” he said, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m in a program at UCLA and am searching for a summer internship. Any advice for someone who’s just starting out?”

Hesitant, you looked him up and down and wondered how honest to be. He seemed nice, looked hopeful and you were one hundred percent sure the industry would crush him.

“You want some advice?” you said as you stood from your seat. The light on the departures board had changed from red to green.

Eagerly, the guy nodded.

“Alright, here it is.” Slinging your bag over your chest, you said, “Don’t be a writer.”

The guy’s expression faltered. “What?”

“Don’t be a writer,” you said. “Screenwriting is one of the most fickle, unforgiving jobs in existence. Job security? None. Creativity? Only as much as shareholders allow. The industry will eat you up, spit you out and no one will give a damn. The glamorous profession you’ve dreamt of doesn’t exist. The best advice I can give is run the other way.”

The guy stared at you, wide-eyed and for a moment, you felt a modicum of pity. Brushing this aside, you steeled your spine – better for him to find out now, while he could still change his major to something stable, like accounting.

“I, uh…” He paused, and then swallowed. “Thanks, I guess?”

“No problem,” you said, brushing past him as group numbers began to be called. At the last second, you hesitated and turned around. “Best of luck in whatever you decide, though. Happy holidays, and all that.”

“Happy holidays,” he mumbled, in a daze.

As you entered the line, you bit down on your lip and began to regret your outburst. Some of your bitterness was based on your own experience; maybe his would be different. The guy had seemed excited and you’d just crushed his dreams.

Narrowing your gaze, you forced yourself to straighten. It would’ve happened to him sooner or later – of that you were certain. Better to warn him now than for him to learn it the hard way. You only wished someone had been kind enough to tell you this years ago.

Actually – a sliver of discomfort entered your thoughts since someone had told you this last year. Someone had warned you about Darren, about your job and LA, but you’d chosen not to listen. Instead, you’d let your friendship crumble and hadn’t spoken to them since.

Just another reason going home for the holidays was going to suck. Going home meant you’d be forced to see Yoongi’s friends, which meant you’d be forced to see Hoseok. Yoongi and Hoseok were close, after all – they’d become friends in college, which was when Yoongi had been introduced to Sara.

It had been nearly a year since you and Hoseok last spoke, despite having once considered him to be your best friend.

So, there it was. Reason six hundred and sixty-six why the holidays would suck. You were single, jobless and facing the imminent prospect of two weeks with people who either had their shit together or were a constant reminder of why you did not.

As you boarded the plane and settled into your seat, you pulled out your headphones and cranked up the volume. If you weren’t feeling particularly Christmas-y, you could at least try to numb the pain with alcohol and music.

Starting now, you decided, as you closed your eyes. Happy holidays, indeed.

Exiting the Terminal at LaGuardia airport, you found yourself shivering in the sudden cold. Despite having worn the warmest jacket you could find, nothing prepared you for the frigid blast of air on your face. Heat lamps were scattered beside the taxi stand, but this seemed to do nothing but attract hopeful crowds of tourists.

Bypassing them all, you dragged your suitcase to the end of Terminal B. This was the agreed-upon meeting place for all family members. Your sister, Sara, was on pick-up duty tonight. She lived and worked in New York City, so the airport had been an easy stop on her way to Josen Falls. Your hometown was only an hour outside the city, but it might as well have been Mars for how much cab drivers charged to get there.

Lugging your bag to the end of the row, you saw Sara’s black Subaru parked at the front. As soon as you were within view, the driver’s side door flung open.

“Y/N!” she yelled, exiting the car. “Y/N!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, half-running the last several paces to crush her in a hug. Your sister squeezed you back, trying – and failing – to lift you from the ground. Once finished, she took a step back and adjusted her glasses.

“You look skinnier,” she said with a frown.

Re-grabbing your bag, you rolled your eyes. “I’m not skinnier.”

“Have you lost weight?”

“I mean, some but –”

“Nope,” said Sara, lifting the trunk of her car. “I’ll call mom on the way home. She can heat up mac and cheese, or something.”

Shoving the handle on your suitcase down, you heaved this from the ground to place in the trunk. As annoying as Sara’s criticism was, you couldn’t help but salivate at the thought of your mom’s mac and cheese.

“Ugh,” you said as you entered the car. Plopping in the passenger seat, you buckled your seatbelt. “Honestly, that sounds amazing. Even the mac and cheese on the west coast is low-carb and no butter.”

Sara looked at you in horror. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Beats me. Masochism?”

“Must be,” she said, shaking her head and putting the car in drive.

Pulling from the curb, Sara eased seamlessly into traffic. She waited until you’d reached the highway to turn on the music, just like dad did.

“Anyways,” she said, drumming her hands on the steering wheel. “Everyone’s super excited to have you home. It’s been what – over a year since last time?”

“Around that, yeah,” you said, shifting uncomfortably.

Slouching lower in your seat, you turned to look out the window. It wasn’t snowing, but it had clearly snowed within the past couple of days. A greyish-blue sludge remained on the highway.

Sara glanced sideways.  “Don’t slouch,” she said. “You’ll wrinkle those really cute pants – which, by the way, can I wear tomorrow night?” Beatific, she smiled. “Mom and dad are throwing me a tiny engagement party. Obviously, you’re invited.”

“Oh. Did you say tomorrow, because –”

“Nope!” Sara cut you off. “No excuses, big sis. You’re my maid of honor, so you have to be there. No ifs, ands or buts.”

Sighing loudly, you slumped in your seat. “Has anyone told you how annoyingly single-minded you are?”

“Often. I tell them I get it from my older sister.”

You snorted, but you knew she was right. You were equally stubborn – it was what had led to your current situation. Your family only knew the barest details about your life. If they knew the full extent of your failures, they’d instantly offer to help you out.

For you though, this would be considered the ultimate blow. When you moved to LA, they’d been hesitant about your career as a screenwriter. It had taken everything in you to prove you could do this. If you began to fail now, it would only prove them right.

You’d planned on telling them about Darren last month, but then Sara got engaged and everything was put on hold. Suddenly, your mom was consumed by the wedding; she barely had time for anything else. Everything was lace veils that, and yours forever that. It was hard being reminded of your singlehood in your own apartment, let alone each time you called your family.

As Sara continued to drive, her diamond engagement ring glittered in the lights of the highway.

“It��s even bigger in person,” you said, nodding across the console.

“That’s what she said.”

“Sara!”

“Sorry!” She cracked up. “You just look so tense. But yeah, I love the ring. Yoongi picked it out himself. Well, that’s not entirely true. He had some help from – uh, from no one,” she said, abruptly changing her tone.

“Oh, really?” you said, amused. “He had help from no one?”

“Yep.” Sara nodded.

You sensed bullshit on this but let it slide, reaching out to turn up the heat. If Sara didn’t want to say who, there was probably a reason. The reason you suspected made your heart twinge, but you didn’t want to think about him right now.

It wasn’t long before Sara pulled from the highway, street signs and buildings becoming familiar. You hadn’t flown much before college, so the trip from the airport to Josen Falls was still new. Just another way your life had changed since high school.

“So, where’s this engagement party happening?” you asked, glancing sideways.

“Where else?”

“Raffi’s,” you both said at the same time.

Sara grinned and nodded. “Where else? It’s our celebration restaurant. Mom and dad had to uphold tradition.”

“Obviously. Who all’s invited?”

Barely noticeable, her hands tensed on the wheel. “Oh, the usual. Mom and dad, a bunch of the neighborhood. Mr. and Mrs. Min, of course,” she said, naming Yoongi’s parents. “Some friends from high school. My bridesmaids. And uh, Yoongi’s groomsmen.”

“Oh.” You paused. “So, is –”

“Hoseok coming? Yeah.”

“Right,” you said, turning to look out the window.

Sara sighed softly. “That’s not going to be weird, is it?”

“Weird? Of course, not. Why would it be weird?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because of the whole ‘Hoseok thing?’” She made air quotes around the last two words.

“You mean how we once were best friends and now, I don’t even know what color his hair is?”

“That’s the one!”

“Hey, listen.” Reaching out, you touched her arm. “I promise things will be okay. Hoseok and I are adults – just because we’re not friends anymore doesn’t mean we can’t be in the same room together.”

“Promise?” she said, giving you a glance.

“Promise. It’s my baby sister’s wedding, after all. I have a contractual obligation to ensure nothing goes wrong.”

“We-ll,” said Sara. “You can’t be held responsible for everything that goes wrong. Like, what if cousin Sybil decides to wear white to the wedding? That wouldn’t be your fault.”

“It would be if I didn’t bring a spare dress for her to change into.”

Sara cracked a smile. “Okay, but what if the florist mixes my bouquet up with a prom one? That wouldn’t be your problem to solve.”

“That’s what cars are for! I’d drive to the florist and make them switch it back.”

“Well, what if Yoongi suddenly gets cold feet and decides I’m not the woman he wants to marry? That definitely wouldn’t be your fault.”

“You’re right,” you said, examining your hand. “It’d be his fault, and then it’d be his problem because I’d murder him. Cold blooded. He can run, but I’d hunt him down, tear off his testicles and make you a potpourri bag.”

“Oh my god.” Sara cackled. “That’s so violent. You’re the best.”

“And as the best maid of honor!” you declared. “I promise your engagement party will go off without a hitch. Hoseok, or no Hoseok.”

“Alright, alright.” She grinned. “Thanks, sis.”

“Anytime.”

As you passed through the downtown of Josen Falls, familiar butterflies began to fill your stomach. Not ones of excitement though, but ones of dread.

Sinking lower, you hoped none of your neighbors were feeling particularly nosy. So little happened in Josen Falls, you were certain your breakup with Darren was still front-page gossip. You could already hear the neighborhood busybodies.

What a shame they cancelled that show of yours, dear. What’s the next project? Nothing? Well, what about that actor you were dating? What’s his name – Darren! He was wonderful in that one movie. He seems like such a nice boy. Oh, you’re no longer together? Well, are you dating anyone new? No? Well…

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head to the seat. Everything would be okay. All you needed to do was get through two weeks and you’d be back in LA. Your façade could last that long. Who knew – maybe if it held, you could apply to a few acting jobs when you returned.

Opening your eyes, you saw Sara drive past Whalen Court. Your home was two streets over, but Whalen Court was where the Jungs lived. Craning your neck, you watched their street disappear in the rearview mirror. You thought you saw lights were at his home but couldn’t be sure.

Before you knew it, you were entering your garage and Sara had placed the car in park.

“Home, sweet, home,” she sang, opening the door.

It took you a moment to convince your legs to work. Home, sweet, home was one way to put it.

The moment you stepped across the threshold you knew this had been a mistake.

“We’re home!” Sara yelled, shutting the door.

It wasn’t long before your mom rushed around the corner, beaming when she saw who had arrived.

“There she is!” she cried, crushing you in a hug. “Our star daughter, come home to visit us mere mortals for the holidays!”

Instantly, your heart sank. You should’ve known the first words out of your mom’s mouth would be a reference to your supposedly successful career.

“Hey!” Sara cried, dropping your bag. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“No,” said your mom, squeezing you tightly. “But we just saw you last week, dear. You and Yoongi came over for dinner.”

“Well… fine, that’s true.”

Your mom laughed, pulling back to hold you at arm’s length. Giving you a critical sweep head to foot, she frowned.

“Sara was right. You’re too skinny.”

Jaw dropping, you turned. “When did you have time to text mom?”

“At the stoplight,” Sara said, breezing past.

Your mom stared in alarm. “Well, I certainly didn’t know that. Sara, that was very dangerous. You shouldn’t be texting while driving.”

“There she is!” sang your dad, entering the front hall. “The prodigal daughter returned!”

“Dad,” you groaned, but laughed when he hugged you.

Pulling back, your dad wiped his forehead and realized he still held the spatula. “Right, dinner,” he said, turning around. “Got to stir the sauce every minute or it congeals! Put your bag by the stairs, Lucy and I’ll bring it up later!”

Lucy was your dad’s nickname for you, even though your name wasn’t remotely close to the moniker. When you’d been a child, you’d been an absolute terror, so Lucy was short for Lucifer. Your Grandma Jan nearly had a heart attack when she learned of the name’s origin.

As your dad disappeared into the kitchen, you returned to your mom. “You know I’m going to bring my suitcase up myself, right?”

“Oh, sure.” She nodded. “Leave something for him to carry, though. You know your father likes to feel needed. Like he’s the man of the house, or something.”

Despite yourself, you grinned. Your dad was as far from toxic masculinity as a person could be. He sang only falsetto harmony to songs in the car, did all the cooking, and had a self-proclaimed ‘weakness for soft blankets.’

Your mom gave a shrug. “Sometimes,” she added.

Laughing, you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and pushed it down. Lifting this up, you left your laptop bag in the hall for your dad to carry. You wouldn’t need it for work, anyways.

With this somewhat depressing thought, you began to lug your things up the stairs. Halfway to the second floor, your mom poked her head over the banister.

“Y/N?” she called.

“Yeah?” you said, struggling to balance your things as you turned.

“There’s toothpaste and shampoo in your bathroom, but you’re sharing a hair dryer with Sara. I put it in her bathroom! Just make sure you knock because, you know…” Your mom lowered her voice. “Yoongi may stay over some nights.”

“Mom,” you said, hiding your smile. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Alright!” She disappeared from view. “So happy you’re home!”

You heard her laugh when she entered the kitchen and for a moment, you stood there and exhaled. Darren had never come home with you for the holidays, so you couldn’t be sure how your parents would have reacted, but you doubted he would’ve gotten the same treatment as Yoongi.

Your parents had always liked Darren, but he’d been considered an outsider. Darren had grown up in the Midwest, while Yoongi hailed from the same town. Yoongi was also more down to earth than Darren ever had been. You couldn’t imagine Darren waking up early to help your dad cook pancakes, but Yoongi did that each time he slept over.

Shaking your head, you continued up the stairs. It didn’t really matter how Darren was different from Yoongi, since Darren wasn’t here, and he wasn’t your boyfriend.

As you continued to climb, the sounds of the first floor began to fade. Pictures were hung carefully on the wall, proof of your past your dad refused to take down. Photos of you with little league trophies, Sara in her cheerleading uniform and a terrible grouping of photos from middle school.

Passing the ones on the landing, you paused to trace over familiar faces. These photos were all from your Senior prom. Only one was the obligatory shot with your date, looking prim, proper and perfectly coiffed. The rest were of you and your friends – mainly, you and Hoseok.

Placing your suitcase on the ground, you stepped closer. Hoseok had the same mop of floppy, brown hair he had throughout most of your childhood. Grin wide, his right arm was slung over your shoulder. In one photo, you two were posed back-to-back, Men in Black style. In another, you did the classic 80’s roommates sitcom pose. The final shot had you dragging your smiles wide, eyes crossed and tongues stuck out at the camera.

When you were in elementary school, Johnny Ludowski had said if someone pushed you from behind with your eyes crossed, they would get stuck that way. Hoseok had been terrified of the idea ever since, but you’d managed to convince him to do it on prom night – only for Seokjin to sneak up and push him from behind.

Screaming bloody murder, Hoseok had then proceeded to chase Seokjin around the yard, brandishing his boutonniere pin as a weapon. You couldn’t help but smile at the memory, although this quickly faded. It had been a long time since you and Hoseok were that close.

Despite attending separate colleges, you and Hoseok had remained best friends throughout. You’d seen him each holiday, summer and even during long weekends at home. Except for the drought sophomore year when you began dating Ren What’s-His-Face, of course. Ren hadn’t liked your friendship with Hoseok, which ended up being one of the reasons you eventually broke up.

It was after college when things began to fall apart.

You’d lived on the east coast for a year and a half, staying in New York as a copy assistant for the New York Times. This job left you feeling thoroughly disillusioned by anything to do with the media. Craving creativity and distraction, you began applying for screenwriting jobs on the west coast.

Hoseok had been in grad school at the time, working two jobs and nearly as busy as you were. The little free time you had was spent together; that summer in the city was one of the best of your life, aside from the whole hating-your-job thing.

When you landed a screenwriting job at the start of the next year, the offer took Hoseok fully by surprise. He was on the cusp of graduating to start his PhD for behavioral psychology. You’d thought the timing was perfect – Hoseok would be so busy with school and research, he’d barely have time for you in New York.

Hoseok saw things differently. That was your first big fight – admittedly, you may have waited too long to tell him about the move. It had just been so difficult to figure out timing. You kept putting things off until finally, it was a week before Christmas, and you needed to move in two weeks.

You bit the bullet right before you went home, curled up on your sofa while you watched a movie. During a commercial break, you told him and Hoseok went still, though you saw him trying to hold it together. This was your dream job, and he’d wanted to be supportive.

Well – dream job was a loose term. It had been a crappily paying job writing for a kids television show, but you’d hoped it would lead to bigger things down the road. Hoseok had been remarkably calm until you said when you were leaving. Then he froze, staring at you in shock as you repeated the date.

Even that though wasn’t enough to end your friendship.

You patched up that fight quickly, unable to stay mad at each other for long. Hoseok had even helped you to move, packing up your New York apartment and flying with you across the country. He was the first guest you hosted in your new apartment, although apartment was a loose term for the hovel you lived in.

A four-bedroom apartment with only one bathroom and three other roommates. Hoseok had taken exactly one step inside before he turned around and said, “Absolutely not.”

Grabbing you by the wrist, he’d semi-jokingly tried to drag you to the curb. You’d laughed, managing to convince him that yes, this was your place and no, it wasn’t dirty and yes, you’d look for a new apartment as soon as you could afford to. Hoseok had begrudgingly agreed, making your room look as homey as possible before he had to leave.

That year was one of the hardest for you on record. Living on your own in LA, twenty-four and surrounded by unfamiliar people. Your roommates were nice, but they weren’t your friends, and they had their own problems with crazy jobs to boot. It was rare you saw them outside the house.

When you first met Darren, it had felt like fate. He’d also been lonely, a recent transplant from the Midwest and you’d instantly bonded. This had been March 2019, right after you’d begun writing for The Drop. Your PBS show had ‘released’ you – a fancy term for fired – in July and you’d waffled for a while before The Drop picked you up in November.

The Drop’s success had turned your work life around, but your personal life didn’t pick up until Darren. All throughout this, you were still best friends with Hoseok. Despite being an entire country apart, you continued to text, call and visit when you could.

As luck would have it, Hoseok planned on visiting at the end of the summer, so you were excited for the chance to introduce him to Darren. Darren’s career had begun to take off and he was in the middle of shooting what would be his first Oscar nomination. You found yourself thoroughly smitten and had recently begun saying the l-word to each other.

By the time Hoseok’s visit came, you felt as though you were on top of the world. Finally, your life was going as you’d imagined. Perfect job, perfect boyfriend – everything was beginning to fall into place.

You picked Hoseok up on a Thursday, balmy wind whipping his hair as he exited the terminal. When he saw you, he broke into the biggest smile and you remember feeling your heart twist a little. For the first time, an inharmonious chord sounded and you began to grow nervous about Hoseok meeting Darren.

Even the ride from the airport felt strange, with Hoseok quieter than usual after putting his things in the trunk. He’d rolled down the window when you entered the highway, soaking up the Los Angeles sunshine. As you passed a familiar exit, he’d frowned.

“Hey.” Hoseok had sat up, squinting out the window. “Am I going blind, or did you just pass the exit you usually take?”

Uncertain, your fingers drummed the wheel. “You’re not going blind.”

Hoseok looked at you suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

What was going on was you’d moved in with Darren about a week prior. It was still new and had been impulsive, but one of your roommates had stayed up fighting with her fiancé again and you’d simply snapped. Darren had suggested you move and it had seemed like a reasonable option.

“Okay,” you’d said, grip tightening on the wheel. “Don’t freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?” Hoseok had said, wondering. “I wouldn’t freak out, unless…” Trailing off, he looked at you sharply. “Are you… living with this guy, Y/N?”

“First off, his name is Darren and yes. I’m living with him.”

“Are you serious? You’ve known him for what, five minutes?”

“We’ve been dating for five months, actually –”

“Oh, so much better.”

“Don’t be an ass,” you’d said as you scowled.

Hoseok had rolled his eyes and settled back, but the tension between you lingered. He was quiet when you parked at Darren’s place, warming a little when he first met your boyfriend. Hoseok had always been good at putting on his mask when he needed to.

Later that night, Darren needed to run to the studio, so you and Hoseok had sat on the patio and made homemade margaritas. Begrudgingly, Hoseok agreed Darren’s apartment was nicer than the shithole you’d lived in and given his approval.

It had been tentative, though – you could tell. Deep down, you knew something lingered between you. Resentment, maybe because you hadn’t told him and anger from you, since Hoseok couldn’t just be happy for you and Darren.

The silent truce held until his last night of the trip. That night you went for drinks with Darren and his friends, who were quickly becoming your own. Except for Jimin, who hated Darren because he once saw him litter, and rarely chose to attend the same events.

At some point, you’d gone to the bathroom and when you came back, you found Hoseok with an odd look on his face.

“What’s up?” you’d said, sliding into the booth. Darren had wandered off, grabbing another round of drinks at the bar. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

Hoseok had slowly turned to face you.

You’d hesitated, stomach dropping because you knew that expression. Jung Hoseok was usually the nicest, most positive person you knew. When he decided to be serious, it was no laughing matter.

“Y/N…” Hoseok considered his next words carefully. “Are you happy with him?”

“What?”

“With Darren,” he’d clarified. “Do you love him?”

“I… what’s with the third degree all of a sudden?” you’d said, laughing nervously.

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing.” Hoseok had paused. “Look. This is super awkward, but I think Darren was texting someone earlier.”

You had frozen, staring at him with blank eyes. The bar around you seemed to blur into nothing.

“I… Darren?” you’d said finally, shaking your head. “That’s impossible. Who was it?”

“I didn’t get a good look at the name,” Hoseok said. “I just saw him type ‘u up?’ to someone. He angled away when he noticed me looking. I asked him who it was, and he said a friend. Then he left for the bar.”

Mind whirling, you’d glanced at the bar. Darren laughed with his friends, chatting as though nothing were the matter. When he’d seen you, he’d grinned and shot you a wink. Your heart flip-flopped in your chest because his actions just didn’t match with what Hoseok said.

Unwittingly, resentment uncurled in your stomach. At one point, you would’ve overanalyzed Hoseok stepping in to be your white knight. Back in high school, you’d fancied yourself to be in love with your best friend, but that had been a long time ago. When years passed and nothing happened between you, you’d forced yourself to move on.

It was never a sign of anything more when Hoseok didn’t like your boyfriends. He was a protective friend and you could live with that, but not when it got in the way of you making life choices.

Defensive, you’d turned back. “Well, maybe it’s not what you thought it was.”

Hoseok’s eyes had widened. “Come on, Y/N. You have to admit that doesn’t look good.”

“Well, no,” you admitted. “But I’m not about to ambush him in a bar, Hobi. Not over something you may or may not have seen on his phone.”

Annoyance clouded his expression. “Are you seriously going to trust him over me?”

“He’s my boyfriend, Hobi. He deserves for me to at least hear him out. I promise I’ll talk to him later.”

Looking away, Hoseok gave a harsh laugh.

“Talk to him. Sure, that’ll work.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Hoseok returned to you, gaze fierce. “I guess I’m just not surprised. You’ve been so distant ever since you started dating Darren – just like you were with Ren. Whenever you date someone, Y/N, you get so caught up in them you forget who you are.”

You had reeled backwards, staring at him in shock. “Are you… serious, Hobi? Have you ever stopped to wonder if maybe I’m not the problem here – maybe you are?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re unreasonably protective!” you’d said. “Every time I date someone, you don’t like them and then you butt in until they break up with me. That’s what happened with Ren, you know. He thought you were in love with me.”

Hoseok’s jaw dropped. “Can I not tell you what I think? I’m supposed to be your best friend! Of course, I want the best for you. And Ren was an ass! If he felt that threatened by you having guy friends, he didn’t deserve you.”

“Sure, but Darren isn’t like that!”

“You’re right,” Hoseok said with a scowl. “He’s worse. I think he’s cheating on you, Y/N.”

Abruptly, you’d stood from the table. “You’ve been weird ever since you got here,” you’d said, fighting back tears.

Hoseok had stood as well. “Yeah, well maybe if you’d told me what I was walking into, I wouldn’t be acting weird. You said Darren was just some guy! Said you barely saw him between all your work on The Drop. How in the hell are you living together?”

Cheeks heating, you’d shrugged aside his words because you didn’t have an answer. Hoseok was right – you’d downplayed your relationship each time you two had spoken and you didn’t know why.

“I think you should go,” you’d said stiffly, folding your arms over your chest. “I’ll talk to Darren, I promise, but I think you should go.”

Hoseok had stared at you a moment, breathing ragged. “Is that… is that really what you want?”

No, it had not been what you wanted. You hadn’t wanted to see Hoseok leave, but you couldn’t fathom a response which didn’t hurt either one of you more.

“Yeah,” you’d said softly.

Hoseok had swallowed. “I… alright, fine.”

Finishing the last of his drink, Hoseok had set his money down and called a cab. You’d mumbled an excuse to Darren later when he asked, saying Hoseok hadn’t been feeling well. By the time you returned home from the bar, Hoseok was asleep. You barely talked the next morning on the drive to the airport.

It wasn’t as though you and Hoseok had never fought before that night. You didn’t make it through nearly two decades of friendship without ups and downs, but this had to be the longest down you’d ever had. One of you usually broke down and called the other, but not this time. This time felt oddly final.

The distance had hurt you at first – really hurt. It felt almost like a break-up, that’s how strange it was to have Hoseok out of your life. Luckily, you’d had Darren to help pick up the pieces. Losing Hoseok had brought you closer to Darren and for a while, you’d thought that was how things were meant to be.

Obviously, you’d begun to rethink things lately.

You never did ask Darren about the text Hoseok saw and now, you realized Hoseok had probably been right. It was painful to imagine Darren cheating on you so early on. The idea of him falling in love with his co-star hurt a lot less than the idea of her being the latest in a long line of flings.

Swallowing hard, you picked up your suitcase and continued down the hall. Entering your old room, you flipped on the light and shut the door. Opening your suitcase, you began to unpack and then released a sigh, flopping down on your bed.

Staring up at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but smile. Glow-in-the-dark constellations speckled the paint, some of them nonsense and others mirroring the real thing. It’d taken you and Hoseok hours to glue them in place. He’d been obsessed with Greek Mythology at the time – talk about a behavioral psych project – and you’d been terrified of the dark.

Familiar constellations stared back at you. Cassiopeia, Orion, and your personal favorite – the little dipper. You loved the idea of Polaris, the North Star, calling you home. There were less conventional constellations there, too. Directly overhead was the outline of a dick.

It had been a joke at the time, intended to be moved, but Hoseok had used the Krazy Stick glue. Your parents had been furious, grounding you for a month in retribution. Still, the sight never failed to make you grin.

Your smile faded though, realizing how long it’d been since you last laughed with Hoseok. Rolling onto your side, you wondered what tomorrow night would bring. Sara had forwarded the party details to your calendar when you got home and you highly her saying it’d be a small affair.

You liked Yoongi a lot and were incredibly happy to have him in the family. He’d gone to your same high school as you but had been a year older and you hadn’t become friends until college. Yoongi and Hoseok attended the same University and had bonded over their shared hometown.

That was how Yoongi had met Sara. You, Hoseok and Yoongi had hung out one night when Sara decided to show up at the bar. The rest, as they say, was history.

It wasn’t a surprise you’d see Hoseok this weekend. You’d known as soon as you agreed to come home it would likely happen. You had hoped though, with weeks to prepare, you would’ve come up with something better to say.

It had been a year since you’d talked and during that time, Hoseok had been proven right about everything. It would be humiliating to face him, more so than anyone else. Nausea prickled your stomach and you sighed, closing your eyes.

You could do this, you told yourself. A week of polite chit-chat, skirting around important topics and pretending to everyone you had your life together.

Then, you could return to LA and fall apart again.

The next morning you found yourself seated around the breakfast table, wondering if you’d been wrong to dread coming home. Honestly, there was nothing better than your dad’s homemade omelets in the morning.

As soon as you began eating though, your mom asked what jobs were on the table and you instantly realized it had been a trap. You brushed her questions aside with vague remarks about choosing the right next step. Once you were finished, you hightailed it upstairs before your mom could pry any further.

Coincidentally, Jimin had sent over a bunch of job postings that morning. None of them were super interesting, but at least they were something. A Disney Channel show about a hidden princess, a reality TV dating show, and a crime-thriller drama. With a sigh, you pulled your laptop closer and sent your resume and examples.

At this point, you just needed something to make rent at the end of this month. You could figure out your career after that, but until then you had bills to pay. A few seasons of a successful show weren’t enough to guarantee success in this business. You couldn’t afford to have any pride.

Sighing again, you finished sending out emails and closed your laptop. Staring out your room’s window, you watched the street below.

Mrs. Haberdash power-walked on the sidewalk, jabbering a mile a minute to Mrs. Mum on her other side. Both were dressed in the latest Target athletic wear line. Seeing them, the corners of your lips lifted. Hoseok had always called them the tweedles – after Tweedledee and Tweedledum. This had been the height of hilarity for twelve-year olds, made even more hilarious by the fact that Mrs. Haberdash’s first name was Dee.

The Tweedles happened to be two of the most annoying creatures on the planet. Mrs. Haberdash was the neighborhood busybody, but Mrs. Mum was the one you really had to watch out for. She usually chose to garden out in her front yard, trimming the same bush while listening to all her neighbors.

You hadn’t missed them much in LA, but it was comforting to know they were up to the same old tricks. Josen Falls felt like this each time you returned. You didn’t realize how much you missed things until you were here, surrounded by people who’d shaped your early life.

Josen Falls never seemed to change in any of the ways that mattered. It was the land time had forgotten; a town where people bought name brand groceries only if they had a coupon. A place where Lou, the milkman, was more known than any Hollywood actor.

Indeed, your initial decision to leave for LA had always been met with confusion. It was bad enough a lot of your friend group currently lived in New York. They were viewed with vague suspicion, including Yoongi and Sara, whom Mrs. Haberdash called ‘hoity-toity’ behind their backs. This was Josen Falls’ version of the b-word.

Speaking of whom – Sara had greatly misled you when she said all you needed to do was show up tonight.

As it so happened, a lot needed to be done before the party started at 7:00 PM. You spent most of the day running errands, going down Sara’s checklist with painstaking precision Jimin would’ve been proud of.

Jimin was your only real friend in LA. You’d happened upon him purely by chance, working the shit PBS job you’d had for less than a year. Jimin had been the assistant for all writers at PBS, so when you began writing for The Drop, you’d managed to finagle him a job as well. Jimin had been your assistant ever since, taking on additional clients as his fame grew.

Currently, he worked for you pro bono, but this couldn’t continue for much longer. Jimin always waved aside your insistence of paying him back. He said you’d made his career, but you hated having this hanging overhead. Once you started working again, Jimin would be the first check you’d cut. Simply put, he was the best in the business, and he deserved to be paid.

Despite this, Sara’s list of demands would’ve made even him flinch. You needed to get floral centerpieces, the cake from the bakery, procure blue and silver streamers and drop baking supplies off at your grandma’s. This was only the front side.

By the time you returned home around six, Sara was in a tizzy. Everyone needed to leave for the restaurant in forty-five minutes, and you still needed to shower. Hurrying upstairs, you yelled that everything was under control. After the fastest shower of your life, you made good on your promise and rushed out the door at 6:40 PM.

Your mom had left earlier to ensure decorations were perfect, so when you got there, Raffi’s was a veritable winter wonderland. Blue and silver streamers hung from above, paired with elegant flowers and vases on the table.

There wasn’t much time to appreciate this, though, since guests began to arrive soon after you did. Yoongi was the first one through the door, following Sara’s detailed instructions down to the T. When he entered, Sara’s anxiety melted as she rushed to greet him. Yoongi let out a muffled grunt when she hugged him, but from the goofy grin on his face, you knew he was faking.

Yoongi was a man of medium-height, slight build, and an intense demeanor. Luckily, your sister was the type of person who instantly saw through that. When she first met Yoongi, he’d barely said two words to her, and she saw it as a personal challenge. She would get Yoongi to speak to her.

Little did she know, he’d been harboring a fat crush on Sara since she walked through the door. Sara tended to have that effect on people. When Yoongi did speak, it was to blurt out in frustration he fucking liked her. Sara had been the one floored at that point.

Pulling back from the hug, Yoongi removed his coat to hang on the rack. As he entered the main room, he spotted you and walked over. Sara stayed by the door to greet Yoongi’s brother.

“Y/N.” Yoongi grinned, coming to a stop. “Long time, no see.”

“The longest,” you agreed with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

You had missed him – that wasn’t a lie. Part of the downside to staying in LA was missing time with your friends from home. Of course, you still had the friend group chat, but it wasn’t the same.

“You don’t have a drink.” Yoongi observed your bare hands.

“Not yet.”

“Sara will fix that soon.”

As though on cue, your sister popped up beside you. “Here you go, Y/N!” she said, handing over a glass of red wine.

Yoongi winked and you laughed, accepting the glass you were handed. Catching this exchange, your sister pouted.

“Were you talking about me?” she said.

“Yes.” Yoongi squeezed her against his side. “Terrible things, all of them.”

“Good.” Sara raised her drink to her lips. “How boring would it be if people complimented you when you left the room?”

Snorting, you tried not to spit wine back in your glass. The other hardest part of living across the country was being away from your sister. Sara loved taking care of people – already, you saw her scanning the room for who else needed a drink. Even though she was the youngest of the family, she loved to play hostess.

As Yoongi sipped his whiskey, neat, you noticed his eyes continually stray towards your sister. It was sweet. His world truly seemed to revolve around her, and you couldn’t help but hope someone would look at you that way one day.

As another of Sara’s bridesmaids arrived, she squealed and darted across the room. Yoongi sighed and followed, taking his whiskey with. He waved goodbye, not seeming unhappy in the slightest as he followed your sister.

You watched them go, glad Sara could enjoy the party despite the small ache in your heart. As happy as you were for them, you couldn’t help but look at Sara and Yoongi and see yourself. Not long ago, you’d had someone to stand beside you at parties. Darren wasn’t that person to you anymore, though. If you were being totally honest – Darren had never been that person to you. Not in the same way Yoongi was to Sara.

Sighing quietly, you took a large sip of your wine and looked up as the door opened.

A gust of snow blew in, along with a familiar face, and all the blood instantly drained from your expression.

Whirling around, you chugged the rest of your wine as you made for the bar. The taste made you wince – no wine was meant to be chugged – but it couldn’t be helped. There was absolutely no way you’d be in direct line of sight when Jung Hoseok entered the party.

Setting your now-empty glass on the bar, you gave the bartender a weak smile as you ordered another. While he was busy with this, you tapped your fingernails against the counter. Quickly, you glanced over your shoulder.

Hoseok remained in the entrance, not looking in your direction – thank the lord. He was paused in removing his coat, nodding at someone who stood before him. Based on the back of their head, it seemed Hoseok was talking to Mr. Min, Yoongi’s dad.

His jacket was unfamiliar, a plaid pea coat thrown over a white button-down. As he bent, your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. Hoseok had dyed his hair black, which was something he’d always wanted to do – and was that an undercut? Shit.

When Hoseok laughed, his eyes crinkled, and you felt your heart tighten. As he fully removed his coat, you saw the outfit underneath. He’d paired the crisp, white shirt with navy pants and those dumb Balenciaga sneakers he loved to wear. When you saw them, you nearly groaned but caught yourself just in time.

Hoseok’s gaze flicked up.

Instantly, you turned and saw your wine before you. “Thanks,” you said, sliding a dollar across the bar as a tip.

Grabbing the glass, you immediately moved as far as you could from the entrance. All you needed was a group of people to disappear into. You picked the first one you could find, wedging yourself between two older women who moved aside easily.

As soon as you looked up, you realized you’d chosen wrong.

The Tweedles stared back, along with a few other neighborhood busybodies. Mrs. Haberdash seemed thrilled, while Mrs. Mum looked – well, she looked how she always looked. Barely awake.

Weakly, you smiled. “Hi,” you said with a wave.

“Y/N!” Mrs. Haberdash clapped her hands. “Home for the holidays, I see. What a surprise!”

Although it wasn’t a question, you found yourself nodding as though it was. “Yes,” you agreed, taking a sip of your wine. “Had to be home for all the celebrations.”

“Oh, of course, of course. But how awkward,” she said, lowering her voice a pitch. “Why, we all saw the tabloids. Your mother told us not to say anything, but you’ve been through such an ordeal. That actor boyfriend of yours… what’s his name again? Derek?”

“Darren,” you said with a tight smile. “We broke up over the summer. I don’t see how that’s related to Sara and Yoongi, though.”

“Oh, it’s not,” Mrs. Haberdash assured. “It’s just so brave of you to show up here, all alone and –”

“She’s not alone,” said a familiar voice, stepping into the circle. “She has me.”

Kim Seokjin slung an arm around your neck, pulling you close in a semi-chokehold. It was less a romantic gesture than a modified wrestling move, but that was Seokjin. One of your closest friends growing up, he now lived in Seattle, so you were pleasantly surprised to find him home for the holidays.

“Oh!” Mrs. Haberdash looked between you. “I apologize. I didn’t know the two of you were, um, well…”

“Lovers?” Seokjin supplied helpfully.

Mrs. Haberdash nearly spit out her drink.

Turning around, you plucked a mini quiche from a passing tray. “Here, sweetums,” you said, lifting this to Seokjin’s lips. “Open wide!”

Before he could oblige, Mrs. Mum cleared her throat. “I’m out of wine,” she said, much to your relief. “Dee, why don’t we…?”

“Ah, yes,” said Mrs. Haberdash. Shaking her head, she seemed to compose herself. She’d been staring, a bit dazed, at Seokjin’s open mouth. “Well, it was lovely to see you, Y/N…”

Trailing off, she practically ran from your presence, the rest of her group following within seconds. Once they’d all disappeared, Seokjin snorted.

“Damn,” he said, looking at you. “I really thought you were going to feed me that mini quiche. You know what food play does to me, Y/N.”

“Gross,” you laughed, wrinkling your nose. Stepping out of his chokehold, you gave Seokjin a hug. “It’s good to see you, despite your weird kinks.”

“Same.” Seokjin pulled back to give you the swift onceover. “Yoongi was right. You’ve lost weight.”

“Will everyone stop discussing my appearance?” you wondered out loud. “Guess what – my weight? Off-limits!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Seokjin laughed. “I mean, you look hot whatever weight you are. Yoongi had to issue a group ban to his cousins, telling them the maid of honor was off limits.”

“Really?” you said, glancing around you with interest. “Why’d he do that? Maybe I want a rebound.”

“Take that up with Yoongi,” he said. “But seriously, Y/N, it’s good to see you. It’s been awhile since you came home.”

Exhaling softly, you glanced down at your glass. “Don’t make me give you the same excuses as Mrs. Haberdash,” you said quietly. “I’ve been busy. Out in LA, getting my heart stomped on, you know. The usual.”

Seokjin was silent a moment and when you looked up, his gaze was shrewder than he had any right to be.

“You’re right,” he said at last, plucking the empty drink from your hand. “Let’s not talk about it. Let’s talk about what alcohol we want to drink next. I think I saw Namjoon at the bar.”

“Joonie?” you said, perking up as you followed.

Seokjin was right – as you approached the bar, you saw another childhood friend, Kim Namjoon, leaning against the counter. As a rising civil rights lawyer in New York, he was now considered to be something of a Big Deal, but this didn’t stop Seokjin from trying to give him a wedgie.

Namjoon dodged. “Thanks,” he said, only to spot you behind Seokjin. His eyes widened. “Y/N!” Namjoon said, nearly spilling his drink to wrap you in a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming home tonight!”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning as you pulled away. “Just got in last night.”

“It’s so good to see you.” Namjoon beamed.

“Yeah, yeah.” Seokjin leaned on the counter. “An appletini for me and for the lady, a glass of your cheapest red wine.”

The bartender stared, baffled and you came to his rescue.

“Chianti,” you said, then returned to Namjoon. “Ah, seriously. I’m so glad we’re all together again.”

“Same,” he said, looking you up and down. “Wow, you look –”

“I swear to god. If you say one thing about my weight.”

“… cheerful,” finished Namjoon weakly. “Must be the holidays.”

Seokjin snorted, turning with a green martini in hand. You accepted the glass of red wine he handed you and glanced around. Despite your earlier threats, it was good to see them. Like most things about Josen Falls, you never realized how much you missed them until you were here.

Scanning the room, you realized the restaurant had started to fill. You spotted Sara and Yoongi walking in, stopping to chat with Lana, who owned the local coffee shop. Just behind them stood your mom and to her right – your stomach swooped.

To her right was Hoseok.

He was chatting with one of your aunts, making her laugh in a way she rarely did. Dimly, you hoped they weren’t talking about you.

Forcing your gaze to Seokjin and Namjoon, you took a sip of your wine. “Wow,” you exhaled. “So, how long has it been?”

“Let’s see.” Seokjin swirled his appletini. “I think the last time we were together was for Namjoon’s sister’s wedding. So, what was that – last spring? Damn, that feels like forever ago.”

“It’s been nearly eight months,” Namjoon agreed. “Seems longer. Especially since Y/N was only there for part of the weekend. She left early to be with – uh, to go do something. I don’t… remember what, exactly.”

Shutting up, Namjoon’s cheeks turned pink and you tried not to laugh. He’d been about to say you left to be with Darren on the set of his movie. This, of course, had been before you knew Darren was cheating on you.

“It’s alright,” you assured him. “Don’t feel like you need to tip-toe around it. It’s just the Mrs. Haberdashes of the world I’d rather avoid.”

“Tweedledee?” Namjoon made a face. “Is that who Seokjin rescued you from?”

“The one and only.”

“She was asking Y/N about that douchebag,” said Seokjin. “Acting like Y/N needed to be pitied when really, this is a good thing! Y/N is free from all that hair gel and we have our Y/N back.”

Blinking, you stared at him for a second. You hadn’t realized how your friends felt about Darren. Sara had alluded to something similar when she was drunk, but you hadn’t realized the true extent. Possibly Hoseok had been right – you did tend to get blinders when you began dating someone.

Glancing around, you began to panic when you realized Hoseok had moved. Covertly scanning the premises of the bar, you failed to spot him anywhere else.

Leaning casually backwards, you glanced at the hall – no Hoseok. This put you on edge, the same way being in the room with a dangerous animal might make one nervous if they couldn’t see it.

“Crick in your neck, Y/N?” Seokjin said pleasantly. “Namjoon went to school for a long time. He probably knows how to fix that.”

“I went to law school, Seokjin, not med school.”

“Are the two different?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you announced before Namjoon’s eyes could bug out any further. Placing your glass on the counter, you turned and patted his arm. “Catch up with you later, okay?”

Both of them nodded, Seokjin taking a long sip of his drink before frowning. As you left, you heard him say, “But seriously, Namjoon. What do you do for a living?”

Namjoon sounded vaguely insulted in his response, so you slipped to the hall. Continuing to scan the restaurant, you found yourself distracted by the sheer amount of people around you. Hoseok was nowhere to be seen, which only served to increase your nervousness.

You were so busy looking for him, you failed to notice where you were going. As you turned the corner, you tripped on a rug and stumbled – straight into Hoseok, who exited the next room.

Both of you reeled, trying and failing to right yourselves.

“Shit!” you blurted, grabbing his shoulders in an attempt not to fall.

Hoseok’s right hand encircled your waist as you fell against him. His back hit the wall, your chest flush to his while you stared at him, wide-eyed.

Meeting your gaze, Hoseok froze underneath you. His hand remained on your waist; your body curved against his in a way which felt strangely intimate. Heat radiated between you for a moment, and then you came to your senses, remembering who you were and what you were doing.

“I – I’m sorry,” you said, scrambling backwards. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Me neither,” said Hoseok, sounding hoarse.

Hearing his voice, you forgot what to say. You thought you’d been prepared to see him again, but now you realized how woefully wrong you’d been. Nothing could prepare you for standing before him, with Hoseok holding himself like that – as though you were a stranger.

Swallowing away your discomfort, you met his gaze. You could do this, you told yourself. You could smile, thank him for coming and then move past.

“You look good,” you blurted out.

Or – you could do that. Inwardly, you cursed.

Hoseok blinked. “Oh. Thanks.”

You waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, you began to feel foolish. Wishing the earth would swallow you whole, you glanced past Hoseok and stared at the door.

You hadn’t been lying, though – Hoseok did look good. Had you been through a breakup, you would’ve said he was the winner. You two hadn’t been dating, though. You’d only been best friends; he’d only been the most important guy in your life before your friendship had ended.

The pain of this burned, stinging the back of your throat.

Hoseok slowly exhaled. “So. Yoongi said you’re Sara’s maid of honor?”

Surprised, you glanced back. You’d nearly forgotten. “Yeah,” you said. “You’re going to be Yoongi’s best man, right?’

“Yep.”

“… Cool.”

Silence fell between again and, somewhat miserable, you looked away. Hoseok clearly had nothing to say and you couldn’t think of anything better to say than cool. He seemed so unmoved, so unruffled by your presence and you could barely hold it together.

You couldn’t help wondering what Hoseok had heard about you. You wondered if he knew you’d broken up with Darren, if he knew The Drop was ending after this season. You wondered if he knew you thought about him way too much to be considered normal.

While you were wallowing in self-pity, Hoseok cleared his throat. This time when you looked, he seemed vaguely uncomfortable.

“Look,” Hoseok exhaled, but you never found out what he was going to say, since Jungkook came barreling around the corner.

“Y/N!” he yelled, rushing forward.

You let out an oof, laughing as he hugged you. Jungkook was one of your sister’s best friends from high school and had since become one of yours by default.

Pulling back, Jungkook glanced between you and Hoseok. “Oh, hey Hobi,” he said, as though nothing was wrong. “Yoongi was looking for you a minute ago. Said something about cufflinks in your car?”

“Oh, shit.” Hoseok winced. “Which room is he in?”

Jungkook pointed and Hoseok, after a glance in your direction, nodded and left. He didn’t say goodbye before he disappeared and you stood there for a moment, staring at his back.

Deep down, you’d known this was how things would go. Nothing had changed since you stopped being friends except, you’d broken up with Darren. While that may have started the fight between you and Hoseok, it had been over a year since. Lots of hurt and confusion had come between you. It was foolish to imagine something might have changed.

“Want another drink?” Jungkook interrupted your thoughts. “Namjoon and Seokjin are inside at the bar.”

Nodding gratefully, you followed Jungkook into the restaurant, realizing belatedly you hadn’t gone to the bathroom. Not that you’d needed to go. That had only been an excuse to escape Hoseok, which had majorly backfired.

As you rejoined the group at the bar, you ordered another drink and tried to forget. It was strange to be in the same room as Hoseok and not stand beside him. Some basic, molecular part of yourself refused to accept the fact you were no longer friends. This part of yourself longed to cross the room and tell Hoseok about your run in with the Tweedles, but you couldn’t.

Still, you forced yourself to keep smiling. This was Sara and Yoongi’s night, after all. Pushing Hoseok from mind, you drank and attempted to forget the mortification you felt each time you caught sight of him in your peripheral.

It was in this way the night passed. By the end, you were relieved to make it through without major incident. Your friends were the last to go, Seokjin shrugging on a bomber jacket you deemed completely inappropriate for the temperature outside. He kissed you on the cheek, loudly calling you his lover again for Mrs. Haberdash’s sake (who had left an hour prior) until Namjoon physically pulled him out the door.

You helped your mom clean until she shooed you away and told you to leave. Your dad, who’d been labeled designated driver, grandly bowed before leaving to heat up the car.

It was your job to wrangle Sara, who had her arms wrapped around Yoongi’s neck and was refusing to go. Yoongi, whose cheeks were pink with alcohol, didn’t seem to mind, but he flushed a darker shade once he realized your dad was waiting.

“C’mon babe,” he said, handing Sara over to you. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Promise.”

Sara sighed, but allowed herself to be extricated and led out the door. Hoseok had left around the same time as Seokjin and Namjoon, so he wasn’t there when you entered the parking lot. It had begun to snow again, so you walked as fast as you could towards your dad’s car.

Placing Sara in the backseat, you entered the passenger side and turned on the radio. It was tuned to the Christmas station, which made you think about holidays when you were children. The night felt largely the same, with Sara singing in the backseat while your dad harmonized in falsetto.

You laughed and joined in but couldn’t seem to shake the heavy weight from your chest. If this were really like your childhood, Hoseok would have texted at least twice by now.

As it was, your phone remained empty the rest of the way home and you fell asleep that night wondering what he’d been about to say.

The next day passed uneventfully, with Fridays being low-key around the house. Both your parents were working, only taking off the next week for Christmas, so you and Sara lounged until your dad’s conference calls became too distracting.

Heading up to your room, you opened your laptop and sat at your desk. Staring at the screenplay pulled up on the page, you sighed. One for the Money was your pet project, something you’d worked on the past few years whenever you had spare time. It had been on hold for a while due to The Drop, but you’d had more time to work on it lately.

The spec script was finished, but each time you sent it out, you received negative responses. It would’ve been helpful had the studios given you critique, but nothing so far surmounted to anything more than a corporate template.

You had re-read the script many times, hoping to spot whatever it was everyone hated. Unfortunately, you seemed to be having about as much luck with this in your bedroom as you had in LA – aka, no luck.

Maybe this had something to do with your surroundings. Each time you glanced up you spotted another reminder of Hoseok. Beneath your desk was a stain from the night you’d dared Hoseok to fit as many marshmallows in his mouth as he could. He’d gotten to fifteen before he nearly choked and spat the glob on the carpet. As it turned out, marshmallow goo was surprisingly hard to clean.

That had been the only time your mom had gotten mad at Hoseok. Normally, he walked on water at your household, but your mom had gone so far as to gently admonish him that day. Hoseok had been extremely apologetic, scrubbing on both hands and knees, but the stain refused to come out.

Glancing away, you tried to think of something else, but your gaze found your bed and you were gone once again. You recalled the night your Grandma died; you’d refused to answer Hoseok’s texts. He’d been so worried he’d climbed up the trellis beneath your window and knocked until you let him in.

Hoseok had stayed the entire night, holding you and letting you cry into his grey hoodie.

Shutting your laptop, you let out a sigh. This room was too distracting – every other room in the house would be distracting, as well. Shoving your things in your bag, you slung this over your shoulder and stood from your desk. What you needed was a fresh change of pace.

Hurrying downstairs, you paused at the landing to yell you needed the car. Your dad yelled back, “Sure, Lucy!” and you grabbed the keys from the hook. Throwing on a coat, you got in his sedan and – shivering violently – drove the several blocks over to your favorite coffee shop.

As you entered Lana’s Corner, holiday bells jingled overhead. The woman behind the counter looked up, breaking into a smile when she saw it was you.

“Y/N!” Lana gushed, rushing forward. Wrapping you in a warm hug, she squeezed and took a step back. “You’re home! I heard you went to LA and made something of yourself. Way to go!”

Shaking your head, you attempted a smile. “Well, tried to, anyways.”

“No, no – none of that,” she said, shaking her finger as she returned behind the counter. “You’ve done wonderful things and there’s more to come. I can feel it. The usual?” she asked, stopping at the register. “Hot chocolate with extra marshmallows?”

You paused, since this had been your favorite drink in high school, but you rarely drank hot chocolate these days. As much as you hated to say LA had rubbed off on you, it was a lot of sugar for mid-afternoon.

Deciding, fuck it, you shrugged. “Sure,” you said, heading to your old table by the windows. “Thanks, Lana!”

Shrugging from your coat, you draped this over your chair and sat down. Lana was odd in that she insisted people eat and drink before paying a dime. Said she didn’t want to charge people if they didn’t enjoy her food – you’d fought this for a while but had eventually given up. Lana was even more stubborn than you.

Pulling out your laptop, you opened your email and saw Jimin had sent more jobs. Releasing a sigh, you opened the first one.

Lana brought your hot chocolate within minutes, placing it beside your laptop to cool. You continued to work while you sipped the confection. There was something about your screenplay you clearly weren’t seeing, but you had no idea how to take a step back and be more objective.

Midway through editing, you felt your phone ring in your pocket. Digging around in your bag, you pulled it out to answer.

“Hello?” you said.

“Hello!” a bright voice chirped. “Y/N?”

“Yes, this is she. With whom am I speaking?”

“Oh, you’re too much!” the other person said with a laugh. “No need to be so formal, darling. This is Daisy from MTV. You applied to our screenwriter position yesterday?”

Frantically, you racked your brain for which TV show this was.

“Uh, right,” you said, scrolling through your inbox. “Thank you so much for getting back to me so quickly!”

“Of course, of course. I have to say, we were surprised to see your resume! Someone who used to write for The Drop isn’t exactly our usual suspect.”

“Oh, well… I have a varied interest across all forms of media.”

“Mm, is that so?”

There was rustling on the other end, as though Daisy were sifting through papers. Biting down on your lip, you scanned more of Jimin’s emails while she paused.

“I assume your assistant told you about Roulette?”

Immediately, you stopped looking and felt your heart sink.

Roulette was a terrible reality dating show Jimin had sent your way. Its premise was the following – someone went on three dates and was asked to choose one person at the end. The catch was one date was someone they’d passed over on a dating app, one was someone who’d passed over them on a dating app and the third was the ex of someone in their real life.

You hated the premise for multiple reasons, but mostly because you couldn’t believe someone wouldn’t recognize any of these people. Especially the supposed ex of someone they knew.

Teeth gritted, you said, “Right, of course. Jimin told me about the concept and I found it so interesting. Lots of room for conflict.”

“Bingo!” Daisy laughed. “Conflict is reality TV’s bread and butter. I like to think of it as the new recipe for storytelling. Rather than the classic rising action, climax and falling action – it’s all rise. You know Shakespeare was considered uncultured in his time, right? He wrote plays which appealed to the masses and now, our kids study him in lit class. Maybe one day people will study the Kardashians.”

Lips parted, you struggled to keep up with her dizzying rhetoric. Honestly, someone probably should study the Kardashians if they hadn’t already. Say what you wanted about their culturally appropriating asses; they knew how to make money.

“That would be… something,” you said, realizing she wanted an answer. “Anyways, what questions did you have for me?”

“Oh, nothing so formal as that.” Daisy laughed. “Why don’t you just pitch me a few ideas for the show? Where would you suggest for a first date?”

Networks sometimes did this, asking writers during the interview if they had ideas. Normally though, you at least were given a heads-up this was coming. Staring into your hot chocolate, you scrambled for concepts.

“Um, let’s see,” you said, stalling for time. “They could go to an arcade?”

“Hm.” Daisy tsk-ed. “That kind of thing has been done to death. Anything else?”

“Sure, uh… there are bars where you can go axe-throwing. It’s supposed to be oddly therapeutic.”

“Interesting, interesting… any other ideas? Something a bit more… original?”

Vaguely annoyed by her tone, you straightened in your seat.

“Okay, well,” you said. “If it’s a dating show, there’s no time for pining. I say you throw them into situations where emotions are heightened. Make them fall for each other faster. Maybe something with a shark cage, or skydiving, or cliff-jumping.”

“Adrenaline is always good!”

“Yeah,” you said, relaxing a little. “My ex-boyfriend and I repelled down a waterfall on vacation and it was terrifying, but super romantic after. You feel closer to someone after escaping a near-death experience.”

“Love that!” Daisy sounded interested for the very first time. “Was this with your ex-boyfriend, Darren Carmichael?”

Blinking, you weren’t sure how she knew that about you. It seemed the screenwriting world was smaller than you’d thought.

“I – uh, no,” you said, lying through your teeth. “Someone else.”

“Oh.” Her voice fell flat. “Well, these are all great suggestions, Y/N. I like your style. What do you say we end things here, and someone will call you in a few days with the offer?”

“I – so soon?” you said, eyebrows shooting up.

“We like to work fast around here. I hire based on gut feeling.”

Wincing a little, you stopped yourself from telling her this was a poor hiring practice. Research had shown hiring from ‘gut feeling’ led to discriminatory practices, since it almost always led to hiring people who looked and thought like you did.

“That’s… great,” you said, however weakly.

“So, we start shooting the second week of January. We’ll need you onsite the first week though, make sure everything is lined up and ready to go.”

“Oh. That’s so soon!”

“Is that a problem?”

“Ah – no, not at all,” you hastened, trying to remember when your plane flight back to LA was. “Just excited to get started.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Alright, tell your assistant to keep an eye on his email and we’ll be in touch. Any questions for me before I go?”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head. “None here. Thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“Listen to you.” Daisy chuckled. “So cute. Talk to you soon, darling! Happy holidays, and all that.”

She hung up, leaving only a dial tone as you stared at the wall. Slowly lowering your phone, you let out a sigh.

You didn’t want this job. The show sounded terrible, but there was nothing you could do. You needed to work to pay rent and put food on the table. You could afford to be picky once you’d managed to save a bit more.

Rubbing your temples, you brought your now-empty cup of hot chocolate over to the counter. Setting this down in the bin, you glanced around the café. Lana sometimes disappeared to make the baked goods herself.

Craning your neck, you glanced towards the back room as the door behind you opened.

“Y/N?”

You whirled, elbow hitting the cup and nearly knocking it from the counter. Catching this just in time, you exhaled in relief and looked up to see Hoseok.

He hovered just inside the door, unwrapping his scarf. Snowflakes were scattered across both hair and coat, quickly melting in the warmth of the room.

“Careful with that.” Hoseok glanced at your cup. “You’ll take someone’s eye out.”

Against all better judgement, you grinned. “A Christmas Story?” you said, naming the movie he misquoted. “Really?”

Hoseok simply smiled. A Christmas Story was his dad’s favorite holiday movie – as a result, Hoseok knew every line and could quote it by heart, even though he hated the movie. Forced osmosis, he liked to say.

“What can I say?” he said, glancing over your shoulder. “Tis the season. Hey, Lana!”

“Hoseok!” Lana bustled out of the back room. “It’s been too long since I last saw you. I hear you’ve been up to impressive things yourself.”

Hoseok looked vaguely embarrassed.

“Nah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Just the usual, you know.”

“Your mom says you’re working on your dissertation? And that there’s talk of you working at the University once you’re done?”

Surprised, you glanced at Hoseok. You hadn’t heard that, but then again, you wouldn’t have. Of course, Hoseok wouldn’t have told you he was after his dream job.

Indeed, his cheeks were faintly pink while facing Lana. “Ah, yeah.” Hoseok gave a little laugh. “We’ll see what happens. I still have a little while before I get my doctorate.”

“Always knew you’d save the world,” Lana said. “You and Y/N, the unstoppable couple.”

Instantly, your cheeks began to heat. “Oh, we weren’t –”

“Not a couple, we –”

Both of you stopped and looked at each other.

Eyebrows raised, Lana began to back away. “I left some dishes soaking in the other room – just came out because I heard the door chime. Y/N, I’ll ring you up when I’m back!”

She disappeared, leaving you and Hoseok alone. Resting your hip on the counter, you glanced again at Hoseok. He seemed a bit flustered, but didn’t say anything more, looking instead at the specials overhead.

Releasing a sigh, you turned around to wait.

Hoseok cleared his throat behind you. “So, listen,” he said, surprising you into looking. “I wanted to talk to you last night about something.”

“What about?” you said, turning fully to face him.

Hoseok pushed a hand through his hair. Cut black strands fell about his face, making you stare. Quickly, you snapped yourself out of this.

“I can’t believe you got an undercut,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Hoseok froze. “Huh?”

“Your hair,” you said, gesturing loosely. Great – another awkward remark about Hoseok’s appearance. “You always said you wanted to do that. I guess I’m just surprised you did it.”

Hoseok paused, then gave you an odd look. “Yeah, well. There’s been a lot of things I wanted to do but didn’t. Figured an undercut shouldn’t be one of them.”

Feeling oddly thrown by this statement, you nodded and turned back around. Leaning over the counter, you searched for Lana and saw no one. With a sigh, you drew back and pondered whether to just place money on the counter and leave.

Lana calling you a couple hadn’t been a coincidence. Ever since you were little, most people in town had assumed you were dating – at first, it had been funny, but now it was something of a sore spot for you. Especially because you’d liked Hoseok back in high school and nothing had happened.

“Right,” you said tightly. “Okay.”

Hoseok hesitated.  “Anyways, I wanted to apologize about last night. I know I was abrupt in the hall. I just… Yoongi hadn’t warned me you’d be there. I thought you were still in LA.”

“Ah.”

“Not that that’s an excuse,” he continued. “I was rude to you, and that’s not okay.”

“No, Hobi, I – I mean, Hoseok,” you corrected, cheeks heating when you said his nickname. “It’s understandable. It’s been… a long time since we’ve talked.”

Hoseok was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The silence between you few and this time, you were the one who looked away first. If Lana didn’t return soon, you were going to leave a ten on the counter and call it a day.

“That’s not all I wanted to say,” Hoseok said, surprising you.

Brows raised, you turned back. “It wasn’t?”

He slowly shook his head.

Some people might have been unnerved by this version of Hoseok. Usually, Hoseok was the loudest person in the room. Always laughing, smiling, or telling someone a joke. He was the life of the party, but this side of him existed, too. The quieter, more serious version of Hoseok. The version who laid on your bed and made-up random stories about the time Orion fought your giant dick constellation.

Lips twitching, you smothered this thought. Hoseok wasn’t your friend anymore and you weren’t reminiscing together.

“Look.” He paused. “This is awkward.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Hoseok gave you a look.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said, trying hard not to smile. “Please continue.”

He rolled his eyes, and the gesture was so normal, you felt the slightest of tension drain from the air.

“Anyways,” he said. “I know we’re not friends anymore, but we’re going to be in this wedding together. You’re Sara’s maid of honor and I’m Yoongi’s best man. We’re probably going to cross paths at some point.”

“Maybe literally, if we’re forced to walk down the aisle together.”

Hoseok’s lips twitched. “This is serious, Y/N.”

“I know,” you said, smile disappearing. “You’re right, this is weird. But you’re also right – this isn’t about us. This is about Sara and Yoongi.”

“Exactly.” Hoseok nodded. “Which is why I think we should try and get along. You know, for the sake of the wedding.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” you said. “Bloodshed never looks good in wedding photos.”

“It’d clash horribly with their color scheme.”

A snort escaped you. “No one wants that.”

“Okay, cool.” Hoseok paused. “So, it’s settled? We call a truce for the wedding.”

“For the wedding,” you agreed. “And then… after?”

“What about after?”

Hoseok seemed genuinely baffled, which made you want to sink through the floor. It was just having him here, bantering with him like you used to – you couldn’t help wondering why you were fighting. It didn’t make sense for Hoseok to ignore you like this.

It wasn’t as though you were still mad at him about last year. You weren’t holding a grudge about the way Hoseok had cut you out of his life, treating you as though two decades of friendship could be easily tossed aside.

Okay, maybe you were a little mad.

“I… don’t know,” you said at last. “Never mind.”

“Alright.” Hoseok hesitated. “Well … that’s all I wanted to say.”

“Okay.”

By this time, all the snow had melted in his hair. It made the strands look a bit damp, mussed by his scarf and you fought the sudden urge to smooth them down. His appearance annoyed you. Hoseok never took proper care of himself, yet he continually butted into your life and tried to fix all your problems.

Not wanting to stay any longer, you reached into your purse and pulled out a ten. Placing this on the counter, you turned away.

“Well. See you around,” you told Hoseok.

“I heard The Drop got cancelled.”

You froze.

Slowly, you turned back to see him. “What did you say?”

Hoseok had the nerve to look sympathetic, which you found to be maddening.

“I heard the show was cancelled,” he said, sliding his hands in his pockets. “It’s a shame, really. I liked it. Second season was even stronger than the first.”

Blinking, you found yourself taken aback. Hoseok had been your friend when the first season aired – he’d had nothing but good words to say about it at the time, but you didn’t know he’d watched the second. Obviously, the two of you had never discussed it.

“You did?” you said, tentative.

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah. I… could tell which parts you wrote, you know? It was cool. You always had the best lines.”

Warmth blossomed within you, even as you did your best to stamp it out. Of course, Hoseok could say a few words and thaw all your ice. He knew exactly which compliments meant the most to you and knew how to wield them. The direction with The Drop had always bothered you – some of the twists had felt stale – but Hoseok knew which lines you’d written. He’d liked the lines you wrote.

“Thanks,” you said, a tingle spreading down your spine.

Hoseok smiled. “So, what are you doing now?”

Equally fast, the warmth within you fizzled. Glancing at the board, you scrambled for something to tell him which wasn’t Roulette. Hoseok would hate the idea of you doing a reality TV show – he knew you; he knew your ambitions and he’d know this to be a step backwards.

“Well, I…”

“It’s also cool if you don’t have something lined up,” Hoseok said, far more astute than he had any right to be. “Life doesn’t always work out that way.”

“I know.”

“Of course.” His smile disappeared. “Well, I hope you like whatever you do next, then.”

You highly doubted this but forced yourself to smile. It didn’t make sense to burden Hoseok with your problems – it wasn’t as though you were friends anymore.

“Thanks,” you said quietly. “I hope you get that teaching job.”

“Thanks.”

Hoseok didn’t expand further and you shifted your weight, sensing you had nothing more to say. You’d exchanged pleasantries, set the stage for wedding interactions and somehow managed not to tear each other's heads off. That was a start, at least.

“Well,” you said, turning around again. It seemed Lana wasn’t coming back out. “I have to get going, but I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“Same.” Hoseok nodded. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said before leaving.

Returning to your table, you began packing your things. Sliding your laptop into your bag, you buttoned your coat and grabbed your gloves. Too much had happened in the past hour for you to even consider continuing your screenplay.

Faltering in your movement, you wondered why you hadn’t mentioned that to Hoseok. He’d always used to read your scripts before you went to LA. Even when you worked for PBS, Hoseok was your first sounding board before you hired an editor. Tentatively, you wondered if he’d do that again for you.

There had been many nights in New York when he’d lounge on your couch, listening to you make up stories over copious glasses of wine. Silly stories, where Hoseok was a superhero with the ability to turn water into wine – and only that. Thinking about ways for lame, wine-drinking superhero Hoseok to save the day had been one of your favorite pastimes – one of his, too.

Shaking your head, you put on your hat. It would be weird to ask him to read. The two of you hadn’t spoken in nearly a year. Things would need to be warmer to ask him for a favor and in order for that to happen, you’d need to talk to Hoseok about what had happened.

As you left the shop, you glanced over your shoulder and saw Hoseok scrolling through his phone at the counter. He didn’t seem affected by your conversation, and you wondered if you were the only sentimental one between you.

Sighing lightly, you pulled your bag higher and walked out the door. You didn’t look back, so you didn’t see Hoseok glance up when you left, his gaze lingering.

Outside, you tugged your hat lower as you walked to your car. It had begun snowing while you were inside, forcing you to scrape newly formed ice on your windshield. As you entered the driver’s side, the car came to life and you remembered Hoseok’s comment about bloodshed not matching the wedding colors.

Stifling a snort, you backed out of your spot. It was hard not to slip into the same repertoire you once had. Just being around him made you feel more like yourself, made you remember times when you knew who you were and what you wanted from life. Lately, you’d been feeling so lost.

You could do this, though. You could navigate the holiday season intact and return to LA where you could work on pulling yourself together. You didn’t need to see Hoseok much more before leaving.

There was the neighborhood holiday party, and a few more outings related to Sara’s wedding. Heart sinking, you realized you were forgetting the most important event. Tomorrow was the holiday cookie baking championship – quite possibly the most anticipated event of the season.

Kim Namjoon and his family hosted every year, and things usually got competitive. You would obviously see Hoseok then, since he’d been one of the inaugural participants. This realization made your heart instantly sink.

The neighborhood holiday party was one thing – that party was for grown-ups, kids, and everyone in between. The holiday cookie baking championship was for you and your friend group. Attending with Hoseok would feel like old times, which could only serve to worsen the hurt.

With a sigh, you pulled out of the lot. It wouldn’t do to worry about that now. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

Still, you stopped at a grocery store on the way home to pick up some goods. Like hell were you going to be shown up by Hoseok on your own turf.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Seokjin paused, frosting-covered spatula held before him like a microphone. “Friends and family, children of all ages – except that’s a lie. No children should be participating in today’s adults-only activities. They should all be in the basement watching Elf with Namjoon’s grandma. Anyways, NOW!” he said, lifting the spoon overhead. “Now, is the moment you’ve all been waiting for!”

“Is the moment the one where you stop talking?” said Taehyung, lounged by the fireplace.

Jungkook snorted. “Burn.”

“Wrong.” Seokjin leveled the spoon at them both. “Just for that, Taehyung, you only get the brown sprinkles from Halloween. Namjoon!” he cried. “Take note.”

Namjoon looked up, alarmed. “Take note of what?”

“Henceforth, Taehyung only gets the poop-colored sprinkles.”

Jungkook leaned over to Taehyung. “I’ll give you some of mine, bro.”

“Tight,” he said.

They fist-bumped.

Seokjin looked at the ceiling. “Anyways, where was I?”

“You were telling us the moment we’re waiting for,” said Hoseok, hip leaned against the counter. “We’re all waiting with bated breath.”

Namjoon snorted and you laughed, as Seokjin glowered in frustration.

“I expect this from the rest of these hooligans,” he said, shooting you a disappointed look. “But not you, Y/N.”

Weakly, you shrugged.

The annual holiday cookie competition was a longstanding tradition, hosted by the Kim house each year the weekend before Christmas. It had begun when your high school hosted a holiday bake sale and required each student to bring one kind of cookie to sell.

You’d all gathered at Namjoon’s to bake and somehow, this had turned into an annual tradition. Seokjin – who was competitive about the most mundane things – assigned ratings the second year, which led to Hoseok declaring revenge in year three. For two months, he’d practiced making madeleines, but Seokjin stubbornly declared him only second place.

Ever since then, the cookie making had become an out-and-out war. More people joined as word of the event spread. Jungkook and Taehyung became contestants during college, along with Sara. This added unforeseen stress to the proceedings, since neither one of them could bake. Taehyung set his cookies on fire his second year, leading to a famed three-year ban he constantly sought to erase.

Yoongi was the last person from your group to join, but this was just as well, since Yoongi was an actual chef. It was usually down to him and Seokjin to win the grand prize. You’d been the one absent most recently, choosing to stay in LA over the holidays the last year.

Despite this, it was nice to gather in Namjoon’s home again. His mom greeted you with the warmest of hugs, making you feel guilty you hadn’t been around sooner. For two years, you’d been so concentrated on work and your life in LA, you’d barely thought about what you were missing.

Last year when you hadn’t come home for Christmas, you’d made sure to visit at a different point in January. It meant you missed all the holiday traditions though, which were usually when you saw everyone else.

Seeing all your friends in one place sent a surge of warmth through you.

“The moment,” said Seokjin, pausing for emphasis.

“Will you just get on with it?” Yoongi groaned, seated beside Sara at the kitchen table.

“The annual holiday cookie baking championship has begun!” Seokjin cried. “Namjoon, ring the gong.”

Again, Namjoon looked baffled. “What gong?”

A tinny gong noise rang through the room, courtesy of Jungkook holding up his phone.

“Begin!” Seokjin said, brandishing his spoon like a sword.

Everyone began moving, standing from their chairs to fall into line. Namjoon and his mom had carefully pre-packaged cookie-making kits the night prior, although many contestants chose to bring their own tools.

You’d only bought decorative touches, so you joined the line, ending up at the back behind Namjoon’s sister. Pulling out your phone, you checked your email and frowned. Daisy had said she’d send over an offer, but nothing had come through. There still was time, but you’d imagined her to be one of those people who worked at lightning speed.

“Bored already?” said Hoseok, interrupting.

Startled, you glanced up. “What – no!” you said, returning your phone to your pocket. “Just checking my email. Nothing important.”

Hoseok arched a brow, clearly not believing you, but wisely choosing to remain silent as you moved up in line. Seokjin pressed play on his holiday music playlist, filling the kitchen with Mariah Carey’s holiday vocal runs.

“Got anything special planned this year?” Hoseok said, spotting your empty hands.

“Not really,” you said with a frown. “I stopped at the grocery store to get some decorations, but nothing as show-stopping as years past, I’m afraid.”

Hoseok made a tsk-ing noise with his teeth. “Hope you’re ready to lose, then.”

“Hey!” Despite yourself, you laughed. “I’ll have you know my cookies are based on substance, not flash.”

Hoseok shook his head sadly. “Flash is literally a category, though. Remember? Seokjin added it five years ago.”

“Oh, shit. He did, didn’t he?” You paused. “Damn, I guess it’s been a while.”

“I guess so.”

Hoseok fell silent as you took another step forward. Glancing around, you saw people already staking out their claims for baking. Seokjin had snagged the table by the stairs, Taehyung and Jungkook were in the kitchen and Yoongi rolled out utensils under the window. Yoongi never used the pre-made kits, choosing instead to bake from scratch every year.

Collecting your bag, you wound through the kitchen and came to a stop. There were only a few tables left, and only three chairs remaining. While you scanned the room, you saw Jungkook pull out a bag of cookie cutters shaped oddly like –

“Are those penises?” you said as Hoseok came to a stop alongside you.

Hoseok squinted at him with interest. “Huh, yeah. Guess so! Can’t imagine Mrs. Kim will rate those highly for style. Definite risk.”

Namjoon’s mom was one of the judges every year, having been roped in after Seokjin continually declared himself in the top three.

Shaking your head, you entered the living room and realized only one table was left. Hoseok followed suit, seeming to realize this at the same time. Awkwardly, he hovered while you set down your things.

“You can work here if you want,” you said, nodding at the open space.

Hoseok glanced at you in surprise. “Really?”

“Sure. I think we can be civil for an hour of baking cookies, don’t you?”

Hoseok’s lips twitched, setting down his things. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I seem to remember the year you threw a knife at Namjoon when he burnt your cookies.”

“Okay, I didn’t throw the knife. I accidentally dropped it.”

“While?”

“… While I was threatening to castrate him.”

Hoseok cracked up, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Even you couldn’t help but smile, arranging your supplies in the order you’d need them. In the corner of your eye, you saw Hoseok doing the same and for the first time, took in what he was wearing.

Hoseok was dressed in an emerald sweater and black jeans, along with those same Balenciaga sneakers. A few strands of dark hair hung over his forehead; brow furrowed while he worked on his layout. The sight made your stomach swoop.

Like always, you banished the feelings immediately. Hoseok was good-lucking and the sky was blue – neither one had anything to do with you. Back in high school, there’d been a period when Hoseok’s good looks would have been crippling to you. Hoseok had gone through puberty seemingly overnight. One day, he’d been your nerdy best friend and the next day, girls whispered about him whenever he walked past in the halls.

Jung Hoseok, with the infectious laugh. Jung Hoseok, with the devastatingly sharp profile. Jung Hoseok, who could effortlessly make someone feel special. Freshman year of high school, you’d had glasses, braces, and terrible acne while Hoseok had been the golden boy. It had been unthinkable for him to look at you like that, so in self-preservation, you’d learned to tune the emotion out.

Once you began dating Ren, you got over your crush on Hoseok. That was when you realized falling for someone else was only antidote in existence for your best friend. Hoseok was too charming for his own good – he caught people in his web without having to try. He could never know you’d once been in love with him. Honestly, you would never live such a thing down.

You’d tried distancing yourself from Hoseok even before Ren, but it hadn’t really worked – not even when Hoseok began dating Fiona. Fiona had been nice, or so you thought before she became jealous of your and Hoseok’s friendship and demanded he stop hanging out with you. Hoseok didn’t follow her instructions exactly, but your friendship definitely took a blow.

When you went to college and met Ren, you only drifted further until Hoseok broke up with Fiona due to long distance.

When you began to date Darren, things had felt safe but now you were single and all those same, unwanted feelings came rushing back. Hating how easily Hoseok did this to you, you fixed your gaze on the table and tried to trap the emotions.

It was hard not to notice how good Hoseok looked. He’d changed since you’d last seen him. Jaw sharper, shoulders broader, he filled out the sweater better than before. The slope of his nose remained unchanged, though – this had always been your favorite thing about him. Hoseok’s profile could bring people to their knees.

Of course, the idea of Hoseok on his knees made your face heat, so you hastily began measuring out the ingredients. Carefully reading the instructions, you dutifully followed the steps Mrs. Kim had laid out. You knew Mrs. Kim had been the one to write them, since Namjoon also couldn’t bake for shit.

“So,” you said, scooping flour into a bowl. “How’s the research going?”

Hoseok glanced your way. “I – uh, really good. I like it.”

“Always knew you’d save the world,” you said, echoing Lana’s statement.

Hoseok gave a small laugh. “Nice of you to have such faith. The world’s a pretty fucked up place.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Hoseok fell silent, measuring and mixing ingredients before him. Silence fell between you – a more comfortable kind than before and for a moment, it felt like old times again. Hoseok beside you, your friends laughing in the next room and Christmas cookies on the table.

After a few minutes, he looked up.

“Y/N,” Hoseok said. “Can I ask what really happened with –”

“Y/N,” Sara gasped, appearing at your elbow. “You have to come quick. Seokjin stole Jungkook’s penis cookie cutters and it’s about to be world war three in the kitchen!”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, but laughed, nonetheless.

Glancing apologetically at Hoseok, you brushed off your hands and hurried after Sara. Inside the kitchen, Seokjin held Jungkook’s penis-shaped cookie cutters above his head in the air. Jungkook didn’t seem pleased in the slightest, rolling up his sleeves in a menacing matter. You’d seen them play-fight enough times to know the situation would end with something probably broken.

“Whoa – hey,” you blurted, stepping between them. “What’s going on?”

“Seokjin stole my things.” Jungkook pouted, crossing his arms.

Your head swiveled to Seokjin. “Care to comment?”

Seokjin sighed. “This is a holiday cookie baking competition,” he said. “Penises aren’t holiday inspired.”

“Not true!” Jungkook cried. “I was going to decorate them in red and white stripes, like candy canes. Holiday dick is a thing.”

“He’s right,” agreed Sara. “It’s a thing.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitched. Seokjin seemed like he was seconds away from losing his shit though, so you shot Sara a look which said be quiet. Yoongi was laughing his head off somewhere in the back, utterly unhelpful.

“Since this is Namjoon’s house,” you said. “We should let him decide. Namjoon?”

Namjoon pretended to think. Shoving glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, he left a streak of flour behind.

“Hm,” he said thoughtfully. “As much as I’m inclined to agree with Jungkook – holiday dick is, indeed, a thing – my mom’s one of the judges. It’s a no-go.”

Jungkook groaned as Seokjin fist-pumped the air.

“Fine, fine.” Jungkook snatched the bag of cookie cutters from Seokjin. “I’ll make them normal – and boring. Far be it from me to ruin the holiday spirit!”

One crisis down, you relaxed and glanced at Sara’s cookies. They looked like unappetizing blobs, but Sara had a knack for making them taste good. Yoongi’s would be both, of course – beautiful in appearance and delicious to eat.

As you surveyed the kitchen, you felt that same sense of rightness within you. It had been too long since you’d last seen your friends. The aching loneliness you got in LA didn’t exist here. Dimly, you thought it’d be nice to somehow combine the two.

It was mostly your fault things were this way. Once you fought with Hoseok, your friend group had been forced to make separate group chats. People always forgot to give updates in both, so it usually ended up being a mishmash of miscommunication.

Without meaning to, you’d slowly drifted from your favorite people in the world. Out of sight, out of mind, as they said. Being home made you realize how much you’d missed them. It was easier to convince yourself you were fine when you lived in LA, surrounded by LA people, places and things.

The sound of your phone interrupted your train of thought. Pulling it from your pocket, you recognized an LA number and started.

“Excuse me,” you said, squeezing past Sara. “I have to take this.”

Heading out the side door and onto Namjoon’s patio, you exited the kitchen. It was cold outside and you shivered, but you didn’t expect to be out here for long. Breath frosting before you, you answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Darling!”

Daisy spoke in the same, too-bright falsetto which made you wince. “Hi – Daisy!” you said, attempting to smile. “So good to hear from you again.”

“Yes, of course – listen, Y/N, I’ll get right down to it.” Someone laughed in the background, and you wondered where Daisy was. “I wanted to tell you we’ve decided to go in a different direction.”

The air seemed to constrict and the holiday music, which had once seemed so cheerful, felt suddenly mocking. Staring straight ahead, you felt your grip tighten on your phone.

“I – what?” you breathed.

“Your interview was great, and we loved you, but we’ve decided to hire someone else.”

“I…” Trailing off, you shook your head. “You said I had the job, though?”

“Things change, darling. You know the industry.”

“But… we only spoke yesterday!”

“Yes, and things have changed since then. We had the most unbelievable interview this morning – you won’t believe their date ideas. So creative. Shocking!”

Something sallow and bitter curdled in your stomach. “Shocking, for a dating show?” you heard yourself say. “What could possibly be creative about that?”

“Ouch.” Daisy laughed. “Don’t be bitter because someone else’s ideas were better than yours. Well, I must get going. Wrap party, you know! Just wanted to call, so you knew not to wait for the email. Toodles!”

She hung up, leaving you alone on the patio.

Numbly, you lowered your arm to your side. It was still cold, and you knew you should head in but somehow couldn’t bring yourself to move. Staring at the darkness of Namjoon’s backyard, you fought back the rising tide of panic.

This had to be it – a new lowest of the low. A job you hadn’t even wanted but had decided to take because you needed money was reneging their offer.

Fingers trembling, you shoved both hands in your pockets and tried not to cry. Already, you felt the tears threatening to spill on your cheeks.

Everything had been so shitty lately. You’d barely been able to mourn your dream job before Darren had cheated. Just like that, your entire support system in LA had crumbled and you’d been left alone.

Eyes closed, you forced yourself to exhale. Maybe if you’d listened to Hoseok you wouldn’t be in this situation. He’d tried to warn you about Darren, and you’d pushed him aside. You hadn’t wanted to believe him – hadn’t wanted to bring that lie crashing down yet.

Darren had fit in with the life you’d envisioned for yourself. He’d fit with the new version of you, the version who wasn’t in love with her best friend and who hadn’t fled halfway across the country because she was escaping said feelings.

If you were being honest, your crush on Hoseok hadn’t ended in high school.

It returned after college, reemerging with a vengeance during the time you lived in New York. Hoseok and you were both single, the first time this had happened since high school. You’d fallen for him all over again – feelings he didn’t reciprocate, which partially led to your decision to move.

It wasn’t as though Darren had been the perfect boyfriend. You weren’t mourning him as the love of your life, or anything like that.

There had been times during your year and a half together when you weren’t happy at all. Darren had drunk a lot, oftentimes to excess and had often collapsed on the couch rather than make it to your bed. He was sweet when he wanted to be, but cruelly honest at other times.

In fact, when you first discovered he’d cheated, your immediate response had been shock, rather than hurt. The public manner of his split had been the worst part, not the actual cheating itself. You’d barely thought about Darren since you two had ended things, which seemed to beg the question of whether you’d loved him at all.

Shaken by the thought, you hugged yourself tighter and felt your lip start to tremble. Everyone inside seemed to have their shit together. They had friends, families and jobs they enjoyed. You’d given up the first two in order to have the last and now, you had nothing.

Without meaning to, a tear fell to your cheek.

At that moment, someone pulled open the sliding door to the patio. Frantically wiping the tear, you turned your head and saw Hoseok.

Hoseok froze, uncertain, the holiday music louder behind him.

“Hey,” you said, swallowing thickly. “I – what’s up?”

His gaze roamed your face. “Nothing,” he said at last. “I just hadn’t seen you in a while. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He was being nice, you thought, stomach plummeting. Nicer than you deserved, so you turned around and resumed looking at the forest. It was pitch black beyond the tree line, which seemed fitting for your current mentality.

“Oh,” you said dully. “That’s nice of you.”

Hoseok paused. “You’re not okay, are you?”

Weakly, you snorted. “What gave you that idea?”

Not choosing to respond to this, Hoseok stepped outside and shut the door. The glass muffled the music, making it seem as though you were in your own world. As Hoseok walked closer, the crunch of snow beneath his sneakers grew louder.

Hoseok came to a stop. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

He released a low laugh. “Come on, Y/N. I’ve known you since we were five. I think I know when you’re pretending not to cry.”

“Don’t do that,” you muttered, still facing the yard.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t pretend we’re friends again, all of a sudden.”

Hoseok was quiet for a moment. “I’m not,” he said. “I just… I can’t pretend not to know you, okay? I know we fought and haven’t talked in a while, but I can’t let you cry out here alone. I’m not an asshole, Y/N, no matter how much you want me to be.”

Of course, he wasn’t. You’d never thought he was but weren’t sure Hoseok would believe you if you said that. Hoseok was the most caring, selfless person you knew. He’d be standing out here even if you were his most bitter enemy, let alone someone he cared about.

Slowly, you turned. “Things aren’t… going as well as I let on.”

“No?”

“No. You know Darren broke up with me, right?”

Hoseok’s lips thinned in the darkness. “I saw the headlines, yeah.”

Closing your eyes, you sighed. “Did you hear what I said, though? Darren broke up with me. I didn’t even notice he… well.” You paused. “You warned me about him, I guess. And I did nothing about it. Who knows how much longer I would’ve stayed if he hadn’t done what he did.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing it happened, then.”

You opened your eyes to stare at the woods. “I think I loved him, at some point. I guess it didn’t matter in the end.”

“It mattered,” Hoseok said.

“Did it, though? I loved him, and he broke up with me. I gave up so much for him,” you said, gaze narrowing. “Coming here has made me realize how much, I guess. I tried so hard to fit in with his idea of the perfect girlfriend and now, I just feel… kind of stupid.”

“You’re definitely not stupid, Y/N.”

“No?” You glanced at him blankly. “You saw through him right away. Must’ve been nice to find out you were right, after all.”

Hoseok’s face tightened. “I would never be happy to hear that,” he said quietly. “I hoped I was wrong, Y/N. Of course, I did. I never wanted you to get hurt.”

“Then why’d you hurt me?” you said, turning to face him fully.

Hoseok’s eyes widened, wind whipping his hair.

“Why’d you hurt me?” you said, still holding back tears. “Why’d you cut me out of your life? Do you have any idea how much that hurt, Hobi?”

“I…” Hoseok faltered. “I didn’t… realize you felt that way.”

“Didn’t realize?” you whispered. “Hoseok, you were my best friend.”

Something unreadable crossed his expression, gone before it could fully be formed. Hoseok turned to look at the forest.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, breath frosting again. “Well.”

Hoseok was silent for a moment, staring at the tree line and then he glanced sideways. “Who was the phone call?”

Surprised, you looked over. “What?”

“The phone call,” he said, glancing at your hand. “Who called and upset you? You seemed fine inside, making cookies.”

You knew he was changing the subject, but you let him. Talking about the past seemed too real to face right now.

“Oh,” you said. “Well. The job hunt isn’t going as well as I said. I wrote a screenplay, but no one is interested. I also applied to a bunch of random shows, but nothing’s panned out. Oh – except,” you said bitterly. “Yesterday, I got an offer to write for this reality dating TV show.”

“You?” Hoseok arched a brow. “The professed self-hater of reality TV?”

“I guess that came out in my interview, since they retracted the offer. That was them calling to tell me.”

“Well, they’re idiots, then.”

“Or maybe they realized I’m a sinking ship and they should probably jump before my bad luck spreads to them.”

“Y/N,” he chastised.

“I know,” you sighed, some of the fight draining from you. “I guess it’s a good thing. I didn’t want that job anyways. But it’s just… it was my last option, you know? That was it, that was the bottom of the barrel and I couldn’t even get that. How pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic,” he insisted.

“No? Because I feel pretty pathetic right now.”

Hoseok was quiet a moment. He shifted his weight and then, out of nowhere he said, “I puked on my first day of student teaching.”

Your head whipped to him in surprise. “You – what?”

“I puked.” Hoseok nodded. “I was so nervous I’d say the wrong thing, I ran to the bathroom and hurled my guts out. I’ve never gotten stage fright, but something about teaching brought that out in me. I don’t know if that’s what I want to do with my doctorate.”

“I…” You stared at him wonderingly. “Why are you telling me this?”

Hoseok half-smiled. “You can want something a long time, and not have it end up being what you thought. It’s not a bad thing to change direction, Y/N.”

“That’s… true.”

“I’m not saying to stop applying,” he warned. “I think you should because you’re ridiculously talented and those west coast assholes are lucky to have you. Just… maybe apply to something different.”

“What do you think I should do, then?”

You waited, truly wanting to know his opinion. Hoseok had always been the one person who could make sense of your spirals. Something about him made you automatically respond.

Hoseok shrugged, the light from inside playing over his features.

“You said you wrote a screenplay?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” He paused. “You should send it to me.”

Both your eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, a hint of a smile to his lips. “I mean, I used to read your stuff before, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Then it’s settled.” Hoseok nodded. “You’ll send me your screenplay and I’ll let you know what I think. Okay?”

“Alright,” you said slowly. “Maybe I will.”

Before he could respond, the sliding door opened again.

“There you are! They’re out here, guys!” Jungkook yelled, turning over his shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?” he said, returning to you. “It’s cold as balls out.”

Leaving the screen door wide open, he retreated to the kitchen. The holiday music was louder now, but slightly less mocking than before. When Hoseok met your gaze, you could tell he was fighting a smile.

“Want to head back in?” he said.

“Yeah,” you said, brushing him as you breezed past. “I heard it’s cold as balls out.”

Hoseok laughed as he followed, and you felt the smallest weight lift from your chest. You still didn’t feel like you had all the answers, but at least Hoseok didn’t seem like he hated you anymore. That was a step forward if nothing else.

As you entered the kitchen, some of your earlier despair seemed to lessen. Hoseok crossed the kitchen to Yoongi, grinning at something he said, and you felt another strange wave of sadness.

Just being with him made you feel better. Even with hard conversations, even with Hoseok telling honest truths, you never got the feeling he wanted to hurt you. It made you long for how things were before and not for the first time, you knew you’d made the wrong decision last year.

Choosing Daren over Hoseok had been the worst mistake of your life. Not because Darren had cheated or because things between you had ended, but because Hoseok meant more to you than anyone ever had in your life.

Maybe ever would.

The next morning you were awakened by a pillow thrown at your face.

“Get up loser,” Sara said from above. “We’re going shopping.”

Groaning at the bad Mean Girls reference, you rolled over. Sara laughed, throwing another pillow which lamely hit your back.

“Seriously,” she whined. “It’s ten in the morning and the cake tasting is at eleven. Unless you don’t want to come anymore…?”

Remembering today’s plans, you bolted upright in bed. Today was the one wedding planning event you really did want to attend – today, Sara was going to taste the cakes.

“No!” you blurted, throwing your covers aside. “I’m in! Just give me ten minutes!”

Sara laughed, retreating and closing the door to your room. Hurrying into your bathroom, you brushed your teeth, washed your face and made yourself presentable. As you entered the kitchen for breakfast, you found everyone seated around the table.

“Y/N!” Your dad grinned at the stove. “I’m making omelets again. Do you want one?”

Warily, you glanced at Sara, who nodded.

“Yep,” you said, heading for the coffee pot. “Sounds like a plan.”

Pouring yourself coffee, you inhaled the steam. Your dad’s omelets were always a risk because he tended to throw whatever he’d made for dinner the night before into the eggs. Sometimes this resulted in momentary brilliance – his crab cake and blue cheese omelet was a thing of legend. Sometimes though, things fell flat. The spaghetti omelet came to mind.

Once you were seated, your mom began to go over the plans for today. She wouldn’t be able to join the cake tasting but would meet you later at the invitation store.

Before long, you were being shoved out the door since Sara was suddenly concerned about Sunday morning traffic. You didn’t bother to point out Josen Falls didn’t have Sunday morning traffic. By now, you recognized signs of your sister’s stress enough to know when to be quiet.

As you entered the cake shop, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Ignoring this, you hurried inside and began to unwarp your scarf. Chimes jingled above the entrance, causing Paul to pop out of the back room.

Paul had owned the shop for what seemed like forever, ever since his dad had passed and he’d taken it over. His cakes were a thing of legend up and down the east coast.

“Sara!” He beamed. “And Y/N! What a surprise! Are you two ready for cake?”

“Hell yes,” Sara said, undoing her coat. “I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks, Paul. Honestly, this is the main reason I’m getting married.”

Paul laughed, retreating behind the counter. “I won’t waste your time with pleasantries, then,” he said. “Let’s get right into it.”

Sara settled on a stool, patting the one beside her for you to follow suit. As you did, you remembered the buzz in your pocket and pulled out your phone. There was a notification on Instagram, which made you frown. Maybe Lord of the Rings airport guy had found you.

Opening the app, you saw the username and froze.

DarrenToLive had sent you a message. Reading his name, you felt the world tilt. It had been months since you’d last seen Darren in your inbox. You’d tentatively unblocked him on Twitter at the start of November and then, when nothing happened, unblocked him on everything else. It seemed Darren had realized this now.

As though your hand had a mind of its own, you clicked read.

DarrenToLive: hey, y/n… I saw on your story you went home for the holidays. How are things going?

Immediately, your gaze narrowed. The message blurred, a million thoughts racing through your mind. Darren had some nerve to reach out to you over Christmas – and while he had a girlfriend, no less. Because when you went to his profile and clicked on the first photo, it had been taken by Jessica Avec. Your jaw clenched.

Fingers hovering over the message, you debated whether to delete, block or cuss him out, but then Paul emerged from the back room holding a tray of cake.

“Alright!” Paul set the tray down. “We’ve got a lot to taste here.”

Slowly, you slid your phone back in your pocket. You could deal with Darren later, you decided. He was unworthy of your attention at the moment. Folding both hands on the table, you tried not to salivate at the treats before you.

“I went through your list, Sara,” he said with a nod. “And I think we’ve got some good options here. First up is almond cake, vanilla bean frosting and fresh raspberries. Second is chocolate fudge cake, chocolate crème brulee and salted caramel sauce. Next is pink berry cake, dark chocolate mousse and berry preserves. Last, a hazelnut cake with milk chocolate mousse and bittersweet ganache.”

“Oh,” said you and Sara in unison.

Paul laughed at your faces. “And of course, champagne,” he said, placing two glasses before you. “I won’t hover and make things weird, so feel free to taste and I’ll be back in a half hour. Keep in mind we have plenty of other cakes, too! This is your day!”

Sara stared at the tray, her eyes shining as Paul left.

“It’s just so beautiful,” she said, sounding a little choked up.

You laughed, placing a fork in her empty hand. “What are you waiting for? Dig in!”

Sara obeyed, pulling the plate towards her, and taking a large bite.

“Oh my god,” you moaned. “This is heaven.”

“It really is,” she happily agreed, hazelnut crumbs on her lips.

Reaching out, Sara took a sip of champagne and dug feverishly into the pink berry cake. You continued this way for a while, switching between cake and champagne until there were only crumbs left.

Leaning back, you surveyed the wreckage. “So?” you said, turning to Sara. “Which one is it?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “They’re all delicious. If I pick one, the rest will feel left out.”

“They’re cakes, Sara. They don’t have feelings.”

“Spoken like an emotionless rock.”

“Hey!” you said, swatting her forearm. “I have emotions, I’ll have you know. I was devastated I didn’t win the holiday cookie competition yesterday.”

Sara laughed. “Oh, please. You weren’t even listening by then. No one was except for Seokjin and Yoongi.”

“Well, that’s because they’re the only two real competitors every year.”

“Not true! There was that year Hoseok decided to take things seriously,” Sara said. “He almost won.”

“Wasn’t that the year Yoongi made pizzelles?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so Hobi had no chance.”

Sara laughed again. “Alright, fair. Yoongi can’t help being blessed with so many skills.”

You mimed retching.

“Honestly! He’s good-looking, smart, clean, knows his way around the kitchen. Knows his way around other things, too.”

“Sara!” you yelped, shoving her shoulder. “I don’t want to hear about my little sister’s sex life, thanks.”

Giving you a devious grin, Sara returned to the cake. Taking another bite, she chewed thoughtfully around a mouthful of frosting.

“Did I see correctly last night, though?” she said, sounding curious. “Were you actually talking to Hoseok again?”

“I… not really, no.”

Sara gave you a look. “So, your mouth was just moving, and nothing was coming out?”

“We’ve decided to be cordial.” Blithely, you took a sip of champagne. “You know, for the sake of your wedding.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“It’s true!” you said. “I’m your maid of honor and Hoseok’s Yoongi’s best man. It would be weird if we just refused to talk.”

“I guess,” Sara said slowly. She sighed. “What happened there, anyways?”

“It’s… a long story.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it is,” you said, staring at your plate. “I don’t know. It was a lot of things, I guess. We’d started growing apart when I moved to LA. And then I began dating Darren… you know none of my boyfriends have ever liked how close I am to Hobi.”

“Well, that’s because all your past boyfriends were trash, Y/N.”

“They haven’t been – alright, fine,” you admitted. “They were trash. Anyways, Hoseok came to LA when I had just moved in with Darren and I, um… I hadn’t exactly told Hobi yet.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “Wait, seriously?”

“It had just happened!” you protested. “My roommates were shit, Hoseok knew that. When Darren suggested I move in with him, it just made sense.”

“So, why didn’t you tell Hobi?”

Falling silent, you stared into your glass of champagne. In all honesty, you had no answer to that. It’d always been hard to talk about your relationships with Hoseok. Maybe some messed up part of yourself still hoped he had feelings for you. Maybe the same, messed up part didn’t like the idea of Hoseok knowing you were really taken.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Every time I thought about telling him, I just couldn’t. I knew Hoseok wouldn’t like it.”

Sara nodded, picking at the crumbs on her plate. She so clearly wanted to say something, it almost made you laugh. Say what you wanted about your sister – she wasn’t subtle.

“What?” you said, arching a brow. “What is it you want to say?”

Sara hid a smile. “You know me too well. All I was thinking was…” Trailing off, she shook her head. “Maybe there’s a reason Hoseok’s never liked any of your exes.”

“Because they were assholes?”

“No – well, yeah,” Sara conceded. “But also, I don’t know. We always kind of thought you two would end up together.”

You froze.

“We?” you managed to squeak out. “Who’s we?”

“You know.” Sara waved a hand. “Me, Yoongi, Namjoon. A bunch of us actually. We always thought you were perfect together.”

“Me and… Hoseok.”

“Don’t play dumb,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You spent so much time together growing up! You were always holed up in your room, always inseparable at parties. It just seemed natural you’d start dating.”

“We were just friends, Sara.”

“Yeah. I guess I see that now.”

Returning to your plate, you pushed the cake around. Other people thinking you’d end up with Hoseok was news to you. You wondered if they saw something you didn’t. Even if they did though, they’d been proven wrong time and time again.

Hoseok had never felt that way about you, despite your on and off feelings for him over the years.

“Hoseok thought Darren was cheating on me,” you said quietly.

Sara looked up. “Oh, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, pushing your plate away. “That’s what led to our big fight. Things already weren’t great between us and when Hoseok visited, he suspected Darren of cheating. I took Darren’s side and Hoseok left the next day.”

“Y/N,” Sara said softly.

“I just… Hoseok was right, in the end.” Looking down, you swallowed. “Maybe he was back then, too. I should’ve listened to him, but I didn’t. And now I don’t know how to apologize. It’s been so long.”

“It has been a long time.”

“Too long,” you said, looking up. “How can I even start?”

Sara hesitated. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t apologize to him, Y/N – but isn’t there blame on his end, too? Sure, you fought, but he could’ve reached out as easily as you.”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe,” said Sara, scooping up the last bite of cake. “Definitely. Look, you don’t need to be friends with Hoseok again. That’s not what I’m trying to say. It just… it was nice seeing you together again. That’s all.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“But look at me.” Sara straightened. “Going on about Hoseok when we have much more important things to discuss. Namely, are there any other cakes to try?”

“Paul did say he had more flavors in the back.”

“I feel like it would be a disservice to this establishment and to ourselves if we didn’t take full advantage of that offer. Paul!” she called, leaning over the counter. “You said something about other cakes?”

Paul laughed, disappearing to grab the next tray. Although you appreciated the change of subject, Sara’s words continued to run through your mind.

The idea of all your friends thinking you and Hoseok would be together was more shocking than it probably should’ve been. You couldn’t help but mull over this for the rest of the day, in the car ride home and throughout dinner that night.

Later, when you sat at your computer and stared at the screen, you made a sudden decision. Opening your email, you typed Hoseok’s name and sent him your screenplay. Pressing send, you shut the laptop and slid into bed.

It took you a while to fall asleep, staring at the little dipper above you.

Wedding planning was put on hold the next day, everyone’s attention shifting towards the holidays. With only two days left until Christmas Eve, it was time for the annual neighborhood holiday party.

The neighborhood holiday party had been a tradition ever since you were little – even before the holiday cookie competition caught on. It was formal attire, hosted by a different family in the neighborhood every year. This year the Jeons were the hosts, which was a good thing because they only lived a few blocks away.

On the drive over, you stared out the window and tried to silence the butterflies in your stomach. Seated in the middle seat, you felt like a high schooler again. It certainly didn’t help that, once again, you found your thoughts entirely consumed by Hoseok. Just like in high school.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what Sara had said, how everyone in your friend group thought you’d get together. Truthfully, you’d thought the same many times prior, but nothing had ever come to fruition. Sometimes it had been because of him – and sometimes because of you.

The last time had been because of you.

Before you left New York for LA, there had been a moment between you and Hoseok you’d done your best to forget. You’d been close at the time, always at one or the other’s apartments in between classes or work. Your job back then had been terrible, even worse than the PBS one after.

When you texted Hoseok on Friday you needed to work Sunday, he’d showed up at your door holding red wine and take-out. You spent yet another evening watching dumb movies and drinking, but this one had ended differently than the rest.

As the credits rolled on the movie and you finished your last glass of wine, you’d sighed and rolled over on top of the couch. Hoseok had been seated on the floor, legs splayed and leaning against the cushions.

When he turned to face you, he was mere inches away. You remember the muted light from the TV playing over his features, making your heart skip for a second.

The movie had been tense, which had caused Hoseok to run his fingers through his hair in frustration. As a result, the strands stuck up every which way, making you smile.

Hoseok had smiled in return. “What?” he’d said, a bit lower than usual.

“Nothing,” you’d laughed, making his smile widen.

“Seriously, what?”

“Nothing!”

Reaching out, you’d tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Hoseok went still, staring at your hand resting near his cheek. You’d moved to retract this, but Hoseok had reached up and caught your hand in his.

You could still remember that feeling. That dizzy, pulse-pounding feeling of his hand in yours. You’d felt it at various points in your friendship, but never so clearly as lying on the couch, inches away from his lips with your hand in his.

Hoseok’s thumb lazily brushed your wrist, causing a warm jolt of pleasure to shoot to your core. His lips parted, as though to speak – and your phone had rung in your pocket.

Scrambling upright, the moment broke when you answered the call. Hoseok fell back, looking stunned and he made an excuse to leave after that. You hadn’t discussed it the next day and it wasn’t long after you announced your move to LA.

The two events weren’t necessarily connected – or maybe they were.

Now, even you were beginning to have doubts. After that night, you’d realized you were developing feelings for Hoseok again. Maybe a tiny part of you thought that by moving away you’d force yourself to move on.

As you approached the Jeon’s, you found those same butterflies emerging. You and Hoseok had never talked about that night. Maybe there had been something there, something he’d felt, and your act of self-preservation had simply been running away.

“Y/N,” your mom said, returning you to the present.

Startled, you looked up. “Yeah?”

She smiled in the rearview mirror. “We were just saying your Aunt called the other day to say she’d started watching The Drop. She loves it! Can’t wait for season three.”

“Oh,” you said, sinking lower. “That’s great.”

“I’ll admit,” your dad laughed. “We were kind of nervous when you said you were quitting your job to move to LA and start writing, but you’ve really made a name for yourself, Lucy. We couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“Oh… good. Thanks, dad.”

“It’s nothing short of incredible!” added your mom.

You nodded, unable to respond as you looked out the window. Saying they’d been nervous was a bit of an understatement. Your parents had tried their best to dissuade you from moving to LA. They had meant well, but to your parents, the best career path was a stable one. Dreams were nice, but they mostly belonged between the pillow and sheets.

Just once, you wished your parents would say they were proud of you without needing an accomplishment attached. Of course, it was great to be successful and make money, but it was hard when it often felt like those were the only things valued by your family.

As your parents parked, you exhaled and unbuckled your seatbelt. Narrowly avoiding stepping in a snowbank, you followed your parents up the sidewalk and into the Jeon house. Their front door was open, holiday music spilling into the night.

Steeping inside, you unbuttoned your coat and glanced around. Jungkook’s parents were well-off, which showed in his mom’s Christmas decorations. Garland twined up every bannister, and you spotted no less than three Christmas trees from your place near the front door.

Hanging your coat up in their closet, you fought back a shiver as you turned around. You may have gone a bit overboard on the dress code, but it had been a long time since you’d wanted to look nice. For the two months following your break-up, you’d mostly wallowed and slept in your sweatpants.

In November, you’d started dating again, but it had only ended in disaster. One guy, after you had successfully dodged a goodbye kiss in his car, had the audacity to text you saying you’d left something. After you’d searched your things in a panic, thinking you’d dropped something in his car, he finally texted back ‘a kiss from me.’

You stopped going on blind dates after that. All this to say tonight was your first night dressing up in a while and you were determined to make it count. And if a certain someone happened to eat their heart? That would only be a benefit.

Smoothing the red velvet of your dress down, you glanced up and spotted Hoseok.

He stood in the kitchen, back to you, but you’d know his profile anywhere. He wore a purple suit which on anyone else would look tacky, but on him looked effortless. Trust Hoseok to show up in a jewel-toned suit and completely steal the night. When he turned, you saw his hair had been styled so that only a few pieces fell over his forehead.

When he saw you, he froze. The bowl of limes in his hands went forgotten as Hoseok’s gaze slowly traveled your frame. Each place he lingered caught fire, leaving embers in his wake when he finally met your gaze.

Before you could speak, the door opened again, and a cold breeze blew in. You shivered, jumping forward and the moment was broken.

Namjoon looked up while undoing his scarf. His jaw dropped. “Y/N!” he said with a whistle. “You look ridiculously good tonight.”

“Just tonight?” you joked, squeezing Namjoon around the waist when he hugged you.

By the time you turned around to face Hoseok, he was already gone.

“And all other nights,” said Namjoon, wrestling free from his coat. “But especially this one. You look like you’re here to break hearts, which doesn’t seem like the best use of Christmas spirit.”

“No?” you said, linking arms to travel into the kitchen. “Pity.”

As you entered, you realized with some disappointment Hoseok had left for the next room. The look on his face had reminded you of senior Prom, when you’d exited the limo and Hoseok had stammered something about how you looked like an angel. You’d brushed it aside but secretly, had daydreamed about it for months.

Jungkook’s mom stood near the stove, removing a tray of appetizers. She waved with her oven mitt, which you returned with a smile. Namjoon didn’t allow you to linger though, pulling you into the family room.

“We’re here!” he called.

This seemed to be the room people your age had claimed. Your parents disappeared into the dining room, all kids went to the basement and you landed in the family room with other quasi-adults.

“Y/N!” Sara called, already perched on Yoongi’s lap.

“How did you get there so fast?” you wondered aloud – only to choke, realizing Yoongi had worn a red suit and Santa hat.

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” said Seokjin, appearing alongside you. “Since only one person is allowed to sit on Santa’s lap.”

Laughing, you shook your head as you turned. “It’s something I would’ve expected from you, honestly,” you said.

“It crossed my mind,” Seokjin admitted. “But then Yoongi and I did rock, paper scissors and I lost.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Seokjin walked with you across the room to stand before Jungkook’s makeshift bar. Jungkook wore a holiday sweater which consisted of a t-rex chasing two gingerbread men across the front.

Only one other person stood before you in line. When Seokjin saw Mrs. Haberdash, he grinned and pulled you into his side.

“Stop trying to sext me!” he said loudly, ensuring she heard. “I don’t need this right now!”

Mrs. Haberdash turned around and froze, then mumbled something about being needed in the next room before she scurried off. Rolling your eyes, you took a step forward.

“I don’t think that was necessary,” you said to Seokjin, although you were laughing. “She hasn’t said anything since the party about my being single.”

“Oh, well.” He shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Drink order?” said Jungkook, shaking a cocktail shaker in each hand. “We’ve got everything! Gingerbread mules, candy cane cosmos, rum punch... you name it, I’ll make it.”

“I didn’t know you could bartend,” you commented, spotting the bowl of limes Hoseok had carried behind the table.

“I can’t.” Jungkook shrugged. “My motto is – the drunker you are, the less you’ll care about how the drink tastes.”

You stared at him a moment. “Yeah, I’ll have wine.”

Namjoon laughed, waiting while Jungkook poured you a glass. It didn’t take long for the rest of your friend group to arrive. Taking a seat on the couch beside Seokjin, you entertained a conversation about whether The Witcher TV series was great cinematography or merely a guilty pleasure.

Around your second glass of wine, Taehyung bounded in from the kitchen to announce a holiday drinking game. Turning on the Hallmark Channel, he taped a large poster board to the wall – “When did you make that?” said Hoseok, appalled – and began to explain the rules.

“Rule number one!” Taehyung tapped the board. “If a character’s name is related to Christmas, you drink. I’m talking Noelle, I’m talking Holly, I’m talking Kris, Tinsel – yes, there was once a character named Tinsel. If any of those names appear, you drink. Rule number two! You spot mistletoe, you drink.”

Jungkook groaned, settling cross-legged on the floor. “We’re all going to be wasted.”

“Yes,” Taehyung agreed.

“Hopefully, it makes your drinks taste better,” said Seokjin from the couch.

Jungkook held up his middle finger.

“Jungkook!” scolded his mom, walking past the door.

Embarrassed, Jungkook put his finger back down. His ears turned bright red, much to the laughter of everyone else in the room.

“Right, anyways,” Taehyung said. “Here’s a new rule that I just made up on the spot – whoever isn’t paying attention to the movie and is the last person to drink has to take two sips.”

Laughter ensued, but once the movie began, you realized Taehyung had been serious. He and Jungkook dubbed themselves the Christmas Patrol and traveled around the room to ensure the rules were being followed.

This resulted in Seokjin tackling Jungkook midway through the movie, insisting he had not been the last person to drink when a magical deal was struck with an angel. They nearly knocked over your glass of wine and so, extricating yourself from the sofa, you told Namjoon you needed to use the bathroom.

Hoseok had stayed away ever since your arrival. He’d barely said anything besides a brief wave and hello. You wanted to ask him if he’d gotten your screenplay but didn’t want to pry. If Hoseok had read it, he would’ve told you already. Likely, he was busy with other holiday things.

As you entered the kitchen, you paused at the window. Thinking about your screenplay made you think of the other night, when Hoseok had checked on you at Namjoon’s and you’d completely broken down. He had just been trying to be nice and you’d completely embarrassed yourself, going on about Darren and how difficult work was.

You needed to remind yourself you weren’t friends anymore. Hoseok couldn’t be there for you the same way he used to be, and you shouldn’t expect that. Releasing a breath, you set your wine glass on the counter.

“Y/N?”

Whirling, you found Hoseok on the threshold. He’d wandered into the kitchen, a stack of dirty plates in one hand.

“Oh – hey, Hoseok,” you said.

He nodded, walking past to set the dishes down in the sink. Turning around, Hoseok wiped his hands on a tea towel. He glanced at the wine glass you’d set on the counter.

“Didn’t want to chance one of Jeon���s holiday drinks?”

You managed a smile. “Didn’t want to risk it.”

Hoseok nodded, silence falling between you, but he still didn’t leave. Glancing past him, you wondered if you’d ever get over this terrible awkwardness. There were so many things you wanted to say but didn’t think were appropriate.

You needed to be careful because it would be too easy to fall back in love with him. Once those floodgates were opened, you weren’t sure how to close them. It was easier to linger in this half-state, where you weren’t really friends, but Hoseok didn’t hate you, either.

“I read your screenplay,” Hoseok said.

Startled, your gaze moved to his. “All of it?”

“Well, you only sent me the first episode,” Hoseok said with a smile. “But yeah, all of it.”

“And? What did you think?”

Hoseok paused.

“Oh, no,” you groaned, leaning against the counter.

You’d known Hoseok long enough to know his pauses were never good. Hoseok was a careful speaker when he gave criticism – excruciatingly honest, but he took the time to say what he meant; no more and no less.

Hoseok laughed. “You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”

“No, but I know you,” you said with a shake of your head. “When you don’t love something, you pause before deciding how best to crush my spirit. Go on, then. Get on with it.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes. “I don’t purposefully crush your spirit.”

“Just an unintended side effect, then.”

“Do you want to hear what I have to say, or no?”

You mimed zipping your lips. “Yes, please. Continue.”

Hoseok paused again, and you hid your smile. For a few seconds, it had felt like you were friends again. This used to be your routine whenever Hoseok read something of yours – his hesitation before he critiqued, your endless moaning and Hoseok asking if you wanted him to stop.

“I liked it a lot.”

“Liar.”

“Let me finish!” Hoseok laughed.

“Alright, alright,” you said, holding up both hands.

“I did like it,” Hoseok said, fixing you with a glare. “It was bright, smart and full of hilarious one-liners. The friend group was relatable and fun. It’s just… the main character.”

“Jaimie? What about her?”

“She’s…” Hoseok hesitated. “She’s just unlikable.”

“What!” you blurted. “What’s unlikeable about her?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “She’s too perfect. It’s too hard to relate. She’s got everything under control, you know? Who wants to watch a show about a person so perfect they make you feel like an idiot in comparison?”

You closed your mouth, realizing it had fallen open. “That’s not… she has flaws!”

“Name one.” Hoseok arched a brow. “And overly clumsy, or having unruly hair aren’t flaws.”

Your lips twitched. “Damn.”

“I meant everything else, though,” said Hoseok. “I really do like the premise. And the friend group is hilarious but real, you know? They’re not trying too hard. I just think the lead could be more realistic. People like that, you know. They like it when a person has flaws.”

“Oh, please,” you said with a sigh. “People always say that, but they’re so quick to turn on a character the second they do something wrong.”

“I still think it’s better to show someone relatable,” Hoseok argued. “Someone who’s real. Someone who keeps trying, even when they’ve messed up.”

He’d moved closer during the course of his speech, close enough for you to smell his shampoo. It wasn’t the same one he’d used back in high school. It was odd, the things you remembered about the past. You could recall the smell of Hoseok’s high school shampoo with vivid clarity but didn’t remember the last time Darren had made you smile.

“Someone who keeps trying,” you said, tracing over his features. “Is that really what you think, Hobi?”

A shadow crossed over his face. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because.” Looking away, you set your jaw. If you didn’t ask him now, you never would. “Why… didn’t you call me back, then?”

“What?”

“I called you,” you whispered, barely audible. “So many times after you left. I kept calling you and trying to talk, but you just ignored me. Why, Hobi?”

He swallowed at the nickname. “I… Y/N…”

“That’s not an answer,” you said, finally looking at him.

All your frustration finally rose to the surface. Sara’s words came back to you with sudden clarity – yes, there was blame on your end, but there was also on his. You hadn’t told anyone this, but you’d called him so many times after he’d left for New York. You’d tried to patch things up and Hoseok hadn’t let you.

“We’ve had fights before, but nothing like this,” you accused. “A year, Hobi. It’s been a year since I’ve seen you. That’s not a fight! That’s you deciding we shouldn’t be friends and that hurt, Hoseok. It fucking hurt.”

“I decided not to be friends with you?” he demanded, eyes flashing.

Gone was the sunny, cool Hoseok of earlier and in his place stood a stranger. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen Hoseok this mad. Maybe the day you’d fought in the bar.

“Yeah,” you said.

“That’s rich,” Hoseok said, stepping closer. “Considering you’d stopped confiding in me long before I visited you in LA. I didn’t even know where you lived! I didn’t know you’d moved in with your boyfriend. You refusing to listen about Darren was just… the last straw.”

“The last straw?” You laughed, but it wasn’t a nice sound. “You’re acting like I was a difficult child, or something. You were my friend, Hoseok. My best friend! And the second things got difficult between us, you ran.”

“It wasn’t only that night,” Hoseok snapped.

He was inches away now, the air between you so thick with tension, hurt and something unknown. He looked so good and you were so angry – it all swirled in your chest, becoming the perfect storm.

“Then, what was it?” you demanded.

His gaze darted towards your lips. “I – I had to put distance between us, Y/N. It was better that way. Healthier.”

“Healthier?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what are you saying? I was toxic to you, or something?”

“No,” Hoseok groaned, shoving a hand through his hair. “God, Y/N, no. What I’m saying is I –”

“Y/N?”

Both your gazes shot towards the door, finding Sara hovering over the threshold. She glanced between you and Hoseok, and you realized belatedly how little space there was between you. Hoseok’s chest practically touched yours, his lips inches away from your own.

Dizzily, you exhaled and willed your heartbeat to slow.

“Yeah?” you said, trying to clear your head. “What is it?”

Exhaling slowly, Hoseok took a step backwards.

Looking as though she wished she were anywhere else, Sara glanced at her phone. “Um,” she said, lifting it up. “I just wanted to tell you Darren is calling…”

Confused, you stared at her a moment until it sunk in.

Darren – your ex-boyfriend – was calling your little sister. Brow furrowed, you attempted to make heads or tails of this news. It made about as much sense as her barging in to say yellow snow had been declared a health supplement by the FDA.

“I – Darren?” you said, puzzled.

“Yeah.” Sara shrugged. “I didn’t recognize the number, so I answered and that’s what he said. He said you never responded to his last text and he got worried. Honestly, I didn’t even know he had my number.”

Slowly, you closed your eyes.

You’d decided not to respond to the Instagram message the other day, re-blocking him from all your social media. This was a gross invasion of privacy to reach out to Sara like this. Dimly, you recalled giving him Sara’s number the time you lost your phone in case of an emergency.

Before you could speak, Hoseok let out a soft laugh. “Of course,” he said quietly. “You’re texting him still?”

Your eyes flew open. “Hoseok, no, I –”

“Yeah, okay,” he said roughly, brushing past you to walk down the hall.

You stared at his back, too stunned to move. Everything Hoseok said about needing distance came back to you. He said your break-up wasn’t just about the last fight you’d had. Questions began to burn in your mind, but aside from that you felt angry.

After everything you’d told him, after everything you’d confessed about Darren, Hoseok still thought you’d gone crawling back.

Suddenly livid, you pushed yourself off the counter. As you passed Sara, you paused. “Block him,” you said. “I didn’t answer him earlier, so I definitely don’t want to answer him now.”

The corner of her lip quirked up. “You got it, sis.”

You walked past, catching Hoseok at the door as he pulled on his coat. Grabbing him by the elbow, you turned him sideways to face you.

“Hey,” you said. “What the fuck?”

Hoseok stared at you, bewildered. “What?”

“Why did you leave?” you demanded, gesturing at the kitchen. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”

Hoseok glanced in the direction you pointed. “I think the conversation was over.”

“It was not over.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N.” Hoseok rubbed his temples. “We always do this. We’re best friends until you date someone and then – poof! You’re gone. That’s why I didn’t call,” he said, teeth gritted. “It was easier not to be friends with you while you were dating.”

“Okay, but I’m not with Darren anymore!”

“Who was just calling you, then?”

“That’s not – that was a coincidence!”

“Right.” Jaw tight, Hoseok looked away. “Look, Y/N. You can date whoever you want, but you deserve better than that guy. You deserve someone who looks at you and sees someone real, not just whatever they can get from your career.”

“What’s that… that’s not what I had with Darren,” you said, reeling a little.

Hoseok returned to you. “Maybe not. Maybe he really did love you, but he never deserved you, Y/N. None of them have ever deserved you.”

“What do you even care, anyways?” you said hotly.

Hoseok went still. In the background, you could hear distant laughter and holiday music but, in that moment, all you could hear was the beating of your own heart.

Eventually, he shook his head. “If you don’t know that by now,” Hoseok murmured. “Then I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Finishing buttoning his coat, Hoseok opened the door. He paused for a moment, snowflakes drifting past as he glanced back to see you.

His expression softened a little. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” he said, and then he was gone.

You were left staring at a closed door, a chill in your veins which had nothing to do with outside.

Wandering inside, you poured a glass of wine some might call ‘obscenely full.’ What you really wanted to do was leave, but your parents had been the ones who’d driven and were, unfortunately, your only way home.

Besides, it would only hurt more to go home alone and cry in your bed. Instead, you forced yourself to stay and seated yourself on the couch beside Seokjin. He shot you a concerned look, but you shrugged it aside and took a deep sip of your drink.

Ignoring your phone, you tried to focus on the drinking game you were playing. Hoseok’s words continued to occupy your thoughts though, making you wonder what he had meant.

If you don’t know that by now, then I guess it doesn’t matter.

That’s all he’d said, as maddeningly unclear as he usually was. You wanted to find him and shake him, to clarify what he meant. Of course, it mattered. It mattered what Hoseok thought because he was the only person you ever thought about.

That was twice now you’d asked why he’d cut you out, only to receive a vague answer. It had hurt you – you hadn’t been lying about that. Compared to your break-up with Darren, losing Hoseok had been far worse.

It had hurt so bad in the months after, you’d briefly lost your mind and last October, you’d flown out to New York to see him.

You had never told Hoseok that, but you did. It had been two months since he’d left in LA and you were growing desperate, trying and failing to get him to return your calls. At the last minute, you’d booked a plane flight, hopped in a cab from LaGuardia and shown up at his apartment – just in time to catch Hoseok coming home from a date.

You had stood there on the sidewalk, duffle bag slung over one shoulder while he laughed at something his date said. Vision blurring, you could still recall the nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach. You had remained long after they went inside, then hailed a cab to the airport and flew home that night.

On your way, you’d realized Hoseok had been right. Possibly, your time as friends had come to an end because you were acting insane. It was insane to fly across the country on a moment’s notice. It was insane to feel this wicked, burning jealousy each time you saw him with someone else.

Deep down, you knew something was wrong. It was wrong to have feelings for Hoseok while you were dating Darren and so, you hadn’t contacted Hoseok again after that. You’d cut him out of your life the same way he did to you – only yours hadn’t worked out, because here you were.

Eyes shut, you leaned back on the sofa. Even now, you heard Hoseok’s critique in your mind. He’d called your main character too perfect, not flawed enough. Hoseok had always been the one who said your flaws were okay. Growing up, he’d been the one who encouraged you to be messy, to make mistakes and fail if you wanted.

Opening your eyes, you felt the raw pain of missing him hit you again. It was even worse now because last time, you’d assumed Hoseok had left because of Darren. Now, you knew he’d left because of you. Hoseok didn’t want you anymore.

As the night came to an end, your emotions hovered close to a breaking point. You stood in the foyer, smiling bleakly while you thanked the Jeons. They disappeared inside, leaving you and your family to pull on your coats.

Gently, Sara leaned over to touch your arm. “Is everything okay?” she murmured.

Dimly, you realized you hadn’t touched base after Darren called her.

“Yeah,” you said, then paused. “And no.”

She gave you a sympathetic look. “I saw you talking with Hobi. What happened? It looked as though you’d been fighting.”

“A little,” you said, giving a weak smile. “Long overdue, I guess. He made some good points. I’ve been… caught up in things lately.”

“Yeah, but –”

“Y/N!” your mom interrupted, pulling on gloves. “You know who I spoke to tonight? The Donoghue’s! Their son is thinking of moving to LA, so I told them you’d reach out. I thought it might be nice, since you’ve done so well for yourself out there.”

Any other night, you would have smiled and nodded. The Donoghue son was probably nice, but right then, you found yourself at a breaking point. Everything for the past year had been piling on and suddenly, the frayed knot in you snapped.

“That’s not a good idea,” you snapped.

Your mom stopped, looking at you in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because I’m not doing well,” you blurted out. “I’m barely hanging on, and LA is terrible. My boyfriend cheated on me, I’m about to be jobless and every major studio keeps rejecting my spec script. Everything is falling apart, and I can barely keep it together anymore!”

Eyes wide, your dad stared with his fingers stilled on his zipper. Sara froze as well, one arm in her pea coat.

“Y/N?” your dad asked, sounding tentative. “What’s going on?”

“I was about to say the same thing,” said your mom, a bit stiff. “Why don’t we have this conversation in the car?”

“Oh, sure,” you said, giving a bitter laugh. “Because it’s embarrassing to talk about my problems in public, right? It would be terrible if the neighbors heard I’m struggling. Well, I’m done pretending everything is okay.”

“Now, Y/N,” your dad started, but you cut in.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to come home for the holidays,” you huffed. “I didn’t want to pretend I was fine for two weeks. Didn’t want to pretend to be perfect. Because that’s the only daughter you want, right?”

Both of your parents stared as, tears brimming, you pushed open the door.

“I’ll be in the car,” you muttered and walked outside.

Sara was the first one to move, pulling on her coat and hurrying after. Your parents soon followed, keeping a wary distance between you while entering the car.

Most of the way home, you stared out the window. At some point, Sara reached out to squeeze your knee. Sara had always been the oddball of the family. The only one for whom emotions came easy, the only one well-equipped enough to have the tough conversations. Everyone else pushed things aside, shoving them down until they blew up in their face.

It seemed your problems were large enough now to blow up.

When you parked, you made to exit the car, but your mom cleared her throat. She looked over the front seat and, to your surprise, you saw tears in her eyes.

“Y/N.” She exhaled. “We never… we never wanted you to feel like you had to be perfect. Or like you couldn’t tell us things. Of course, we’ll always have our opinions, and they might not be what you want to hear – wait, let me finish,” she said, seeing your face. “We want what’s best for you and we don’t want you to struggle. Like you’re doing now. That doesn’t mean if you are struggling though, we won’t love and support you. I’m so, so sorry you thought that.”

Now, you were the one who had tears in their eyes.

“She’s right,” said your dad. “Of course, we’re proud of what you’ve done. But we’re also proud of you for taking risks, for not being afraid and going after what you want. We’re just as proud of you now as we were before. Maybe more so.”

“Oh no,” you mumbled, wiping your cheek.

“Yeah, oh no,” said Sara, also tearing up.

Snorting, you turned to laugh at her through your tears.

“You and your sister,” said your dad with a meaningful glance at Sara.

“You know I can’t handle emotional speeches!” said Sara, blowing her nose on her sleeve.

“We love you both,” said your mom with a faint smile. “I’m sorry if we don’t say that enough.”

Opening your door, you got out and hugged your mom tightly. Walking into the house, you began to relax for the first time in ages. Telling your parents was such a massive weight lifted from your chest.

You hugged your dad as well, burying your face in his coat. Your parents loved to tell the story of the first time you saw fireworks. You had been a toddler, mad at your dad for some reason when the first rocket had launched. Terrified, you’d immediately forgotten your anger and scrambled into his arms. There, you’d hidden until the fireworks had subsided.

You were no longer a child, but you couldn’t help wanting that shelter sometimes. People always said when you grew up, you’d need your parents less and maybe this was true, but it didn’t mean you stopped needing them entirely.

When you finally went upstairs, you found you couldn’t sleep. Lying on your back, you stared at the constellations and both your words and Hoseok’s continued to run through your mind.

Sitting up, you turned on the light and pulled out your laptop. Frowning at your screenplay, you opened a new document and slowly exhaled.

Leaning forward, you began to write.

For the next day and a half, you were lost in your work. Despite it being the day before Christmas Eve, there really wasn’t anywhere for you to be. Once you told your parents you were writing, they left you alone, making themselves scarce on the main floor of the house.

Locked in your bedroom, you made mug after mug of hot chocolate and slowly tore down the block in your mind. Something Hoseok had said set a fire beneath you. Your main character was unlikeable and unflawed. You could change that – you could write someone inherently flawed and still somehow likeable.

As you began the new script, a familiar world bloomed in your mind. At the top of the screenplay, you wrote Untitled: An Unlikely Superhero Story. The main character’s name was changed from Hoseok to Carlos, but you kept most of the story the same.

Carlos was a college student in his senior year. He came from a long line of famed superheroes but somehow, the genes seemed to have skipped over him. The only power Carlos had inherited was the power to turn water to wine. Very biblical, and a fun party trick, but not exactly the crème of the crop.

That is, until disaster strikes the country, and Carlos is the only available superhero to stop a new super-villain.

Head bent to your keyboard, you lost yourself in the new story. You added yourself without thinking, as Carlos’ best friend, Raya. Ray is hopelessly in love with Carlos and everyone around them knows except him.

Unlike with your prior screenplay, the words seemed to flow from somewhere deep within. While you were writing, you no longer found yourself concerned about whether people would like Carlos and Raya. Instead, you simply focused on the story you had to tell.

You were so busy writing you almost didn’t hear the soft knock at your door. Continuing to type, you wrote several more lines before someone said your name.

“Y/N?”

Glancing up, you realized Yoongi stood at your threshold. Surprised to see him without Sara, you dropped your hands from the keys and sat back.

“Yoongi!” you said, rubbing your eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Yoongi nodded and glanced about your room. It had been a while since he’d last been here. He and Hoseok became friends during college and by then, you’d mostly moved out of your parents’ house. Still, Yoongi and Hoseok had hung out with you on breaks, so the room wasn’t unfamiliar.

“Sure.” Yoongi glanced at your laptop. “You seemed pretty invested in what you were doing.”

“Writing my screenplay,” you said, and then paused. “I thought of something I wanted to change, and things kind of spiraled.”

“That’s good.” He nodded. “I hope your writing goes well.”

You waited, but he said nothing more and after a moment, you glanced at the screen. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were kind of on a roll. If Yoongi wanted to talk about wedding plans, Sara was right downstairs.

“Is that… all?” you asked. It wasn’t like Yoongi to interrupt you for nothing.

After a moment, he sighed and glanced down the hall. Downstairs, you could hear a Christmas movie playing. He was probably in the middle of watching it with Sara. Somewhat uneasily, Yoongi looked back.

“That’s not all,” he admitted.

“Is it… do you want to come in, or something?”

Yoongi considered. “I saw you talking to Hoseok in the kitchen last night.”

Uncertain, you froze. It seemed your argument with Hoseok had been less private than you’d thought.

Awkwardly, you cleared your throat. “Oh? I’m sorry if we were being loud… I didn’t mean to interrupt the movie, or anything.”

His upper lip twitched. “You didn’t. I went to the bathroom and heard you two arguing.”

“Oh. Right.”

Yoongi sighed. “I really shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Talking to you about any of this.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you said. “I have no idea what ‘any of this’ is, so it’s almost like we’re not talking at all.”

“What did you and Hobi fight about?”

You paused. “I… that’s kind of personal, Yoongi.”

Folding his arms, Yoongi leaned a shoulder against your door. He didn’t look away, which made you feel oddly on display.

“What’d you say to him?” he asked.

Immediately, you bristled. “Why does everyone assume I said something?”

“Because you tend to be the more clueless one.”

“I am not clueless,” you sputtered.

Yoongi gave you a look. “Well, what’d you fight about then?”

“I – I don’t know. A lot of things,” you said, falling back in your chair. “I got mad at him for cutting me out last year and he kept saying things were better this way.”

“What way?”

“I don’t know,” you said, frustrated. “A way where we’re not friends, I guess.”

“Well. Were you ever really friends to begin with?”

Startled, your eyes widened. “Of course, we were!”

“Y/N.” Yoongi stepped forward. “Think back. Really think. Why did all of your past boyfriends hate Hoseok so much?”

“I… I don’t know. Toxic masculinity? Guys always are threatened by male-female friendships.”

“It’s because Hobi was in love with you,” Yoongi said bluntly. “Always has been. He’s been in love with you for so fucking long and all your boyfriends knew it. Hell, everyone’s known it but you.”

Although you opened and closed your mouth, no noise came out.

Staring at Yoongi, the room started to spin. What he said made no sense. Hoseok couldn’t be in love with you. He couldn’t be in love with you because you would’ve known. Somehow, you would’ve known. He had been your best friend for nearly two decades. There was no way you would’ve missed something important like that.

“Hobi…” you managed to say. “Hoseok is in love with me?”

Seeing your expression, Yoongi softened. “I don’t know about love, present tense,” he corrected. “I know it destroyed him when you left New York. When you first told him about Darren, I think it finally scared Hoseok into doing something. He was coming to confess to you that weekend, you know.”

“He was what?”

“He was coming to confess,” Yoongi repeated. “He wanted to tell you he loved you, but you picked him up from the airport and said you’d moved in with Darren.”

“I – no,” you said, horrified.

Something like pity entered his gaze. “Yeah. He’d kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but you’ve both been idiots for so long. You’re not even speaking to each other, which is just stupid.”

“But…” Dizzily, you shook your head. “Why are you saying this, then? You don’t even know if Hoseok feels the same way.”

“Please.” Yoongi scoffed. “Hoseok might be your best friend, but he’s also mine. I saw the way he looked at you at my engagement party. Hell, I saw the way you looked at him.”

“How… did I look at him?”

Yoongi paused. “Like you’d come home.”

Swallowing hard, you looked away. You had no words left to say because Yoongi was right – Hoseok was home. He meant more to you than anyone ever had in your life, more than anyone ever would, and you were a fool for thinking this could be friendship.

There was a reason you’d wanted to skip an entire season rather than see Hoseok again. Why losing Hoseok had hurt worse than losing Darren; why seeing Hoseok last week had instantly crumbled your defenses, and a phone call from Darren could easily be dismissed.

You loved Hoseok. You always had.

“If you don’t love him,” Yoongi continued. “I honestly have no idea what’s going on. Haven’t you ever wondered why neither one of your relationships last?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. “We keep picking crappy people?”

“True.” He raised a brow. “But maybe the reason you keep picking crappy people is because you both know you’re right for each other but are too cowardly to say anything. It’s easier to say nothing and keep being friends than risk losing each other completely.”

You stared at Yoongi over your laptop. “Let’s say that’s true. Let’s say Hoseok used to love me. Why are you telling me this now?”

Yoongi hesitated. “You’re both clinging to the past so desperately, I don’t think either of you see what’s in front of your noses. Hoseok went after you last time. I think it’s about time you knew and decided what to do next.”

“And what if you’re right?” you said softly. “What if the idea of losing him is too much to bear?”

“Well, that’s the thing.” Yoongi gave a sad smile. “You don’t really have him right now, do you?”

With that, he turned to leave your room. Halfway into the hall, he paused. “Hope the rewrite goes well,” Yoongi said, then disappeared.

You stared at the empty door frame for a long time after that.

Letting the influx of emotions you felt after Yoongi’s visit fuel you, you finished writing around 3:00 AM Christmas Eve. Falling asleep in the light of your laptop, you awoke groggily around 4:00 AM and moved to your bed to continue.

Your alarm went off early and for a moment, you thought you were under attack and nearly fell out of bed. Then you remembered that, in a moment of stupidity, you’d done this to yourself. Wearily rolling from bed, you padded into the bathroom and washed your face.

Around 8:00 AM, you pulled on your coat and rushed out the door, yelling to your dad you needed to borrow the car. Luckily, he was fine with this and soon you were seated in the car on your way to Kinko’s. It was the only copy place open on Christmas Eve, which you sorely needed since your dad’s printer was broken.

After printing out your screenplay, you drove all the way to Hoseok’s and parked at the curb. Here, you took several deep breaths and stared at his house.

It was as familiar to you as your own. There had been a point back in high school when you may have spent more time here than at your own house. You’d even had sleepovers because, to quote your mom, ‘it was only Hoseok.’

This thought made your cheeks heat because he had been anything but ‘only Hoseok.’ You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him that way in high school. You had often thought about Hoseok naked, and then immediately felt guilty because he was supposed to be your best friend.

If what Yoongi said was true though, you were the biggest pair of idiots because you’d liked Hoseok at the same time Hoseok had liked you. You’d both wasted so much time, love and energy on other people.

Removing the key from your ignition, you pushed open the door and promptly stepped in a snowdrift. Groaning out loud, you glanced down. Shaking your shoe free of snow, you limped awkwardly up Hoseok’s driveway. Shoe squelching, you muttered some choice words about snow and where it could shove its puffy, white ass.

“… Y/N?”

Startled, you whirled and saw Hoseok emerging from his garage, snow shovel in hand. He stared at you in confusion, having seemingly overheard everything you just said. When he realized you were limping, his gaze dropped to your foot.

“Oh.” Hoseok paused. “Sorry. I hadn’t shoved yet.”

“Hi. It’s okay,” you said, air frosting before you.

Hoseok nodded but didn’t add on and you felt suddenly nervous. This was Hoseok standing before you. It was Hoseok and yet, it wasn’t, because your Hoseok was completely untouchable. Your Hoseok was your ex-best friend, your childhood crush, and the man you were desperately, unrequitedly in love with.

This Hoseok – the one who maybe loved you back – was a stranger.

Remembering why you’d come, you tucked the papers under one arm and hurried forward. Hoseok was wearing a red puffer jacket which matched his cold cheeks. Coming to a stop, you fought the sudden nausea within you.

“Hey,” you repeated.

Hoseok stared at you, a little bewildered. He seemed like he didn’t understand why you were here, and you wilted a little, remembering how you’d left things at the holiday party.

“Why are you here?” Hoseok asked, echoing your thoughts.

“I wanted to give you this.”

Awkward, you thrust out both hands with the papers. Hoseok stared blankly at the pages, then looked at you.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s my screenplay,” you said. “Well, my new screenplay. I came up with a different idea after we talked.”

Despite himself, a glimmer of curiosity entered his gaze. Hoseok glanced once more at the pages. “And why are you giving it to me?”

“Because I want you to read it,” you said.

Hoseok’s gaze flicked to yours. “I don’t think you really want my opinion, Y/N.”

“I do, though.”

Something uncertain seemed to enter his gaze the longer he looked at you. “Y/N…” Hoseok said lowly. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be friends.”

“Hoseok… please,” you said quietly. “Please read it. Just this once?”

Hoseok looked at you another moment, then nodded and took the papers. Your hands touched for the briefest of moments and you felt your heart skip, but then he pulled back and the cold settled in.

No matter how much you wanted to blurt what Yoongi had said, you stopped yourself. This was what you’d decided sometime around midnight. It would be cheating to simply relay to Hoseok how Yoongi had said he felt. You needed to show him in your own way what he meant to you.

Hence, the screenplay and ungodly hour.

Hoseok looked at the papers, then back at you. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll try to read this sometimes this week, okay?”

Your heart sank a little, but you nodded. “Okay.”

That was all you could hope for, really. One thing was for certain – your friendship couldn’t continue the way it currently was. Something needed to change, one way or the other.

After another look, you nodded and turned towards your car. Sliding into the seat, you cranked up the heat and pulled from the curb. You tried not to look in the rearview mirror but failed as soon as you reached the stop sign. Glancing up, you saw Hoseok turn the papers over in hand.

Then you turned the corner and he disappeared.

Christmas Eve was fairly typical in your house.

Christmas Day was the main event; you usually spent this at your grandma’s house. All your aunts, uncles and cousins would gather, and you’d spend the day drinking mimosas and unwrapping gifts by the fireplace.

There was tons of cooking to do, so your mom usually went over the night before to help. Usually you, your dad and Sara watched Christmas movies at home but this year, Sara was spending Christmas Eve at Yoongi’s. Your dad had volunteered to help your mom cook, which left you alone in the house for the evening.

You’d been invited to your grandma’s place, of course, but it was a halfhearted invitation, and you knew it. Your grandma was nothing if not a perfectionist and had zero patience for your brand of burnt toast. Besides, someone needed to make sure the Christmas lights were turned on.

In this way, you found yourself alone on Christmas Eve. Weirdly, this didn’t upset you at all. Wrapping yourself in your fuzziest blanket, you made yourself a cup of hot chocolate and settled in to watch the Grinch. Everyone else in your family refused to watch with you because you could quote every line by heart – and often did.

You tried not to think about Hoseok but kept coming up short. Every few minutes, a memory would drift to the surface and you’d wonder if he’d read your screenplay yet, if he’d understood what you’d meant and if he had any thoughts.

Frown deepening, you turned up the volume and tried to drown out your thoughts. It was Christmas Eve, and you had the entire place to yourself. You’d be damned if you let Hoseok –

A knock sounded at your front door.

Pressing pause, you sat up and listened. Someone knocked again and, setting down your mug, you stood to pad down the hall. It was around 7:30 PM, but you weren’t expecting either your parents or Sara back until 11:00 PM, which meant it had to be someone else.

Maybe a neighbor. It wouldn’t be the first time a strand of lights had come loose from your roof and landed on someone’s lawn. Halfway to the door, the person knocked a third time, and you noticed a shadow on your doorstep.

“Coming!” you yelled. In your haste, you’d nearly forgotten about the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “Hang on!”

Undoing the lock, you opened the front door to find Hoseok before you. He stood on your porch, clutching your papers and looking indignant.

“What is this?” he demanded, thrusting them forward.

You stared at him in alarm. “Um. My new screenplay?”

“Right.” Hoseok paused. “Let’s start there. This person – Carlos. Is he based on me?”

“I…” Suddenly hesitant, you tugged on the blanket. “A little. Maybe.”

“Okay. And his best friend – Raya,” Hoseok said. “Who’s that?”

Awkward, you shifted your weight to your other foot.

This was what you’d intended by giving him the screenplay. You’d wanted Hoseok to understand how deeply you felt about him, how much you’d missed having him in your life. Hoseok had always been a superhero to you, even if he didn’t know it.

“She’s…” Helpless, you looked at Hoseok. “She’s Carlos’ best friend.”

Hoseok stared at you a moment. “Alright.” Looking down, he flipped through pages until he found the one he sought. A page scrawled with your handwriting. “And what about this?” Hoseok demanded, turning it around. “What’s this?”

Slightly cross-eyed, you read your own writing.

To the only person who’s ever seen the real me. Here’s how I see you.

Swallowing hard, you looked up. “It’s dedicated to you,” you said, a bit hoarse.

Slowly, Hoseok lowered the page.

Something uncertain entered his gaze, as though he didn’t dare to believe what you said. The idea of this made you want to laugh – the idea of Hoseok not understanding how you felt for him. He was so indescribably out of your league and somehow, he thought you didn’t want him.

“Alright.” Hoseok spoke quietly, taking a step forward. “I’m going to ask this again, at the risk of sounding like an absolute idiot. Who’s Raya, Y/N?”

He was inside now, across your threshold and still, you fought back a shiver. Mistaking this for cold, Hoseok turned and shut the door. In the warm glow of your hallway, he turned back, his cheeks red with cold.

“Me,” you whispered, gathering all your courage. “She’s me, Hobi.”

Hoseok seemed to stop breathing.

“I didn’t know how else to explain,” you said in a rush. “I just… Hobi, do you know why I didn’t want to come home for Christmas?”

Mutely, he shook his head.

“I didn’t want to see you,” you confessed. “I could barely hold things together in LA, where I had my own life which didn’t involve you. Coming home and seeing you, knowing you weren’t mine and not being able to do anything about it? I couldn’t stand the idea,” you admitted. “I just couldn’t.”

Hoseok paused, and then said, “You were with Darren, though. You loved him.”

“Maybe,” you said softly. “Or maybe he was someone I could keep at arms-length. Someone who couldn’t really hurt me. Do you know how I felt after he cheated?”

“I – I don’t.”

Roughly, you exhaled. “I was hurt. But more than that, I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed I’d stayed with him for as long as I had. What does that say about how fucked up that relationship was? When you love someone, you care about what they do. You care if they love you back, or not. You… you want to cross entire countries just to say how you feel,” you said, all in one breath.

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “I – how did you…? Yoongi,” he breathed as he realized.

For a second Hoseok looked so livid, you nearly smiled.

“Don’t hurt him,” you said, stepping closer. “He’s the only reason I’m telling you any of this. I had no idea… I mean, you were certainly no help.”

“I was no help?” Hoseok’s gaze narrowed. “Do you have any idea how many times I tried to tell you?”

“I’m guessing zero,” you scoffed. “Seeing as I never realized what you were trying to say.”

Hoseok looked at you a moment, still wearing that giant, red puffer jacket. It reminded you of one he had in high school, one he saved up all winter to buy. He lost it that spring at a party – the same one you had your first kiss at. That night was also known as the first time Hoseok got drunk.

“The first time I tried to tell you I loved you, I was eleven,” Hoseok said softly. “It was the first time you slept over at my house and you fell asleep playing mario kart. You looked so pretty, even though you drooled on my pillow. I whispered I love you.”

“You… you told me you loved me when I was asleep?” you said, stunned.

Hoseok’s upper lip twitched. “The next time, we were fourteen. You got food poisoning at Wild Fun Land and I spent that night holding your hair over the toilet. After a really gross bout, you looked up and mumbled, ‘Hey, Hobi. Can you call Sara and tell her I won’t be home for dinner? Tell her… something came up.’ Then you looked at the toilet, wiggled your brows and I lost it. I told you I loved you, but I don’t think you understood.”

You realized then your mouth was hanging open, but somehow couldn’t find the strength to close it. You also remembered that day, but Hoseok was right, you’d thought he meant it in a friend way, not in a real I love you way.

“You… you tried to confess after I made a vomit pun?” you squeaked.

“The third time,” Hoseok continued, as though you’d said nothing. “We were both sixteen. It was that time Jungkook convinced everyone to go camping. We were the last ones outside, star-gazing in that field and you told me you loved the little dipper. You said you loved the idea of something guiding you home. I said–”

“You said I was that to you,” you whispered, remembering.

A strange, fluttery feeling began to take flight in your stomach. You remembered that night, too. You’d been deeply in love with Hoseok at the time but lacked the courage to tell him. His words that night had sustained you for weeks, but when you’d returned and nothing happened, you’d slowly lost hope.

“Then there was prom,” Hoseok said, stepping closer. “That was the last time I tried to tell you – for a while, at least. Do you remember? Your asshole date made out with someone else on the floor, and I found you crying in the family restroom. Do you remember what I said to you?”

“You said you hoped his eyebrows fell off.”

“After that.”

“You said,” you whispered, suddenly parched. “You said it didn’t matter what my date thought, since I’d always have someone who thought I was the most beautiful girl in the room.”

“Me,” Hoseok said quietly.

Staring at him, you wondered how you could have ever been so stupid. When he said it like that, it all fell into place, but you remembered being so confused at the time.

“That was the last time?”

Hoseok hesitated. “When you began dating Ren, I tried to keep my distance. I tried to move on, but then we were together in New York… I don’t know. I realized I’d never stopped loving you. I didn’t know how to stop loving you.”

“So, you came to LA,” you murmured.

He nodded. “The night we almost kissed haunted me for months. I wanted to say something so badly, but then you said you were moving… I figured it was a sign. But then you left, and my feelings wouldn’t go away. I needed to tell you, or I’d never move on.”

“But I’d moved in with Darren.”

Hoseok’s jaw tightened. “I… I couldn’t handle being friends with you like that,” he said quietly. “I was in love with you and it was killing me. I needed to try and get over you. The only way I could think to do that was to cut you out of my life.”

“It makes sense,” you whispered, even as your heart lodged in your throat. “Did you know I came to see you?”

Hoseok’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Last October. I missed you so badly, I flew to New York. I don’t even know what I meant to say, but then I got to your place and saw you coming back from a date. I – I realized you were right. We couldn’t be friends.”

He looked at you quizzically and you buried your face in your hands.

Slowly, you shook your head side to side. “It sounds so stupid now that I’m saying it out loud. God, how did I not realize? I loved you, Hobi. I loved you so much and it was all right there! I hated all your girlfriends. Not because they were stupid – although they were – but because I couldn’t stand the idea of you being anyone else.”

“Hey, hey,” Hoseok said, gently taking your hands in his.

He lowered them to your sides, waiting until you looked up. When you met his gaze, you tentatively traced over his face in a way you hadn’t before.

He was so beautiful.

You’d always thought this but hadn’t let yourself linger because it hurt too much to see him. It was dizzying to look at him now, to have him so near and know you were allowed. Hoseok wanted this as much as you did.

“So.” Hoseok still hadn’t let go of your hands. “If I’m Carlos and you’re Raya, does that mean…”

“I love you, Hoseok,” you said without skipping a beat.

Happiness bloomed in his gaze. You’d said it during your rambles, but this time felt different. This time felt real – a moment in the present and not a regret from the past. Hands slipping to your cheeks, Hoseok thumbed your skin before he lowered his head to yours.

His lips were cold at first, warming as they moved against you. His hands slid into your hair, repositioning your mouth to deepen the kiss. Slowly, he walked the two of you backwards, letting your hips hit the wall as the blanket fell from your shoulders. Your head started spinning when you pulled him closer, clutching his waist and opening your mouth.

Grinning into his lips, you reached for his jacket to try and unzip him. The puffiness was getting in the way and you wanted to feel him against you. Hoseok obeyed, refusing to stop kissing as his right hand found yours, tugging down the zipper.

When his coat hit the floor, you realized he was dressed in a dark suit and button-down. His head bent, determined to pick up where you’d left off, but you pushed him back.

“Hang on,” you said, sweeping him with your gaze. “Holy shit.”

Hoseok paused, breathing hard. “What?”

“You’re wearing a suit.”

“Yeah.” He looked at you, bewildered. “I came straight from mass.”

“Hm.” You cocked your head. “I should probably talk to my therapist about why I find that hot.”

Hoseok chuckled and leaned in. Rather than kiss you, he pressed your hips to the wall and rested his hand by your head. Slowly, his gaze trailed your frame.

“I… Hoseok,” you said, heart beating faster. “I’m wearing pajamas.”

You were. They were matching flannel – short sleeves and short-shorts, but still hopelessly Christmas-y and endlessly dorky. Your sister had insisted you wear them on Christmas Eve, so you could wake up in them tomorrow morning.

Hoseok’s gaze glinted. “Mhm. What’s your point?”

“Stop… stop looking at me like that,” you said, a bit breathless.

His gaze flicked to yours. “Like what?”

“Like…” You swallowed. “Like you’re undressing me in your mind, or something.”

Hoseok grinned.

“Stop,” you laughed, shoving his shoulder.

He didn’t move. Instead, Hoseok lowered a finger to your clavicle and slowly dragged down. Equally gently, he undid a button. The top of your pajama shirt parted and Hoseok exhaled.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hand curling on the wall. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined seeing you naked.”

His voice made you shiver, pressing closer when his arm slid around your waist. Hoseok swallowed and lowered to kiss you again. His lips were softer, more tentative and you found yourself melting. Arms finding his neck, you pulled him even closer to feel him flush against you.

“So.” Hoseok pulled back, kissing the corner of your lips. “I hate to say something which might break the mood, but…”

“Yeah?”

“Your parents aren’t home, are they?”

Snorting, you buried your face in his neck. Hoseok smelled good, like citrus and linen. After breathing him in for a second, you looked up to see him.

“No,” you told him. “No one will be back for hours.”

“Good.”

Without further preamble, Hoseok resumed kissing you. You lost yourself in the feel of his hands, the touch of his lips and the delicious way Hoseok tasted. Sucking on his lower lip, you nibbled a little before you pulled back. Hoseok groaned, thumb stroking your neck as you opened your mouth.

Your hands slid under his suit jacket, trying to pull him even closer. Hoseok undid another button on your top to leave it half-open.

“Fuck,” he muttered, looking down.

“Hobi.” You pushed your hips to his. “Take it all the way off.”

Sharply, he looked up and his jaw clenched. “Are you trying to kill me?” he said, sliding a finger down your chest. Hovering over your breastbone, he awaited further instruction.

Watching him, you reached up and undid the final two buttons. Inhaling, Hoseok pushed off your top until it fell to the floor. You were left standing in only your shorts, which had ridden up in a somewhat obscene manner.

Hoseok wet his lips.

“Hobi,” you groaned. He looked up. “Touch me.”

“God.” He slid both hands up your ribcage. “You are, aren’t you? You’re trying to kill me.”

Palms cupping your breasts, Hoseok flicked over each nipple. He stared appreciatively as they hardened, aroused by his touch.

“You had this bikini,” he said suddenly, looking up. “A white string bikini you wore to the pool senior year. Every guy in our grade loved that bikini,” he confessed, dipping his head. “We all used to pray the AC would be on, because then your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

“Hey!” you blurted, losing all train of thought when Hoseok’s lips closed around a nipple. “Oh,” you said breathlessly, head hitting the wall.

Hoseok continued, merciless as his tongue swept upward. He teasingly brought one to a peak, then the other, flicking the first with his thumb.

God, you were wet – so fucking wet, you were surprised Hoseok couldn’t tell as you ground on his leg. Hoseok had wedged his thigh between yours, giving you the perfect seat while he played with your breasts.

“H-hobi,” you whimpered.

Lifting his head, Hoseok smirked. There was something about seeing him fully clothed while you ground on his leg which set off a needy, primal part of you.

“We should go upstairs,” you said, glancing past him.

Hoseok went still. “Yeah?” he asked, his gaze searching yours.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. “I need you. Now.”

Without another word, Hoseok grabbed your wrist and made for the stairs. You laughed when he pulled you along, remembering to scoop your top from the ground as you went. Slapping his ass, you followed his lead and Hoseok paused on the landing to press you to the wall.

Beneath your terrible middle school photos, he kissed you, unable to keep from smiling.

“No more,” you whined, pulling back. “I want to see you naked.”

Hoseok snorted but followed you down the hall and into your bedroom. You walked inside but he paused, choosing to linger on the threshold instead.

“Fuck.” Hoseok glanced around. “I can’t believe you’re inviting me up to your room. Sixteen-year-old me is reaching through the time continuum to give me a high five.”

Taking a seat on your bed, you threw the shirt to the ground. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“What are you talking about?” you said, baffled. “You’ve been in my room plenty of times.”

His eyes gleamed as he walked closer. “It’s not the same,” Hoseok said, beginning to undo his belt. His jacket, then his pants found their way to the floor. “Do you know how many times I jacked off to the idea of you touching yourself in this room?”

“Oh,” you whispered, a bit breathless.

Without breaking his gaze, you slid the shorts from your waist and pushed them to the ground. Now, you were entirely naked. Spreading yourself on the sheets, you let Hoseok see you. Normally, you weren’t this aggressive in bed. Normally, you went along with whatever your partner wanted, but this was Hoseok. You needed him to know how badly you wanted him.

Eyes widening, Hoseok undid his shirt. As soon as this was gone, you sucked in a breath. Hoseok was gorgeous. You’d known this of course, but his body was all lithe muscles and golden skin. His hips had an indent you loved – you saw this only briefly before he unzipped his pants.

Still looking at you, he lowered them to the floor, and you forgot how to breathe for a minute. You forgot everything but the sight of Hoseok standing naked before you.

Walking towards the bed, he lowered a knee to the mattress and slowly pushed you back. Your lips met as you inhaled, pulling him closer, grabbing a hold of whatever you could. There was so much to see, so much to touch – hands trembling, they slid down the broad panes of his back. Hoseok’s legs nestled between yours, your arousal getting all over his thighs.

Mouth opening, his tongue swept forward as you whimpered his name. Lowering you to your back, Hoseok kissed slowly down your front to close over a breast. Sucking into his mouth, his hips rolled against yours.

Gasping, your pelvis rocked forward, feeling his cock at your thigh. You needed him inside you so badly. Needed his length, his fingers, his mouth – it didn’t matter.

“Please, Hoseok,” you said, pulling up on his shoulders until he kissed you again.

“This isn’t fair,” he protested.

“What isn’t?”

“You.” He pulled back to sit on his heels. With one hand, Hoseok fisted his cock and stared at your dripping cunt. “We’ve been making out for ten minutes and already, my balls feel so tight, I’m going to come the second I get inside you.” His eyes widened. “I mean. If that’s… I don’t want to assume…”

Melting a little, you reached up and pulled him down to your chest. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you nudged his cock with your center. This had to be the wettest you’d ever been in your life.

“You feel that?” you whispered, biting his ear.

Hoseok shuddered, fighting to keep still.

“That’s me saying I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Inhaling sharply, Hoseok reached down and slid a finger into your cunt. You groaned, clenching as you fell back on the bed. Hoseok pulled his finger back out, closing his mouth around the digit to suck it clean. Eyes closed, he exhaled.

“Mm.” He opened his eyes, dark with arousal. “God, I can’t wait to make your legs shake. Lick your whole pussy clean while you ride my face.”

Unwittingly, your eyes widened. “Hobi!”

Grin wicked, he leaned to cage you with his arms. “Yeah?”

“You…” Your face felt like it was on fire. “I’ve just… never heard you talk like that before.”

“Did you like it?” he murmured, brushing your neck with his lips.

“Yeah,” you said, arching upwards. “Tell me what else you want to do to me.”

Reaching down, Hoseok slid his finger back inside you. Sinking in deeper, he made wet, squelching sounds as he slowly fucked you. His thumb began rubbing your clit.

“Well first,” he murmured. “I want to fuck you like this – looking at you. Watching you come.”

You shuddered when he added a second finger, working you open. Hoseok curled his fingers in a forward gesture, brushing a spot deep inside you which made you moan.

“I wish we were somewhere else,” he said, adding a third finger. “I wish we had all the time in the world so I could do everything I have in mind. Eat your pussy like the meal it is. Lie back and let you ride my face. Have you hanging off the bed while I fuck your throat.”

“Shit,” you breathed, eyes slightly glazed.

Glancing down, Hoseok saw your arousal dripping around his hand. He smirked. “You like that, huh?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Want me to fuck your throat, baby?”

“Yes,” you groaned, head thrown back on the bed.

He made a noise partway to a growl, then abruptly pulled out his fingers. You gasped, clenching hard around nothing while you looked at him in dismay.

“I was so close,” you groaned. “Hobi!”

“I know,” he said, returning to rubbing your clit. “I know, but fuck – I can’t wait any longer to be inside you. I need to know what your pussy feels like around me.”

“Oh,” you exhaled. “Okay.”

Hoseok’s lips found yours, moving slowly as he thrust between your legs to get his cock wet. Each time he slid past your pussy, you whimpered and Hoseok grinned, pulling back.

“Hoseok,” you said through gritted teeth. “I swear to god, if you don’t –”

He laughed. “Okay, okay,” he agreed and pushed his tip inside you.

Immediately, he froze.

“What?” you said, searching his face.

“Shit,” Hoseok cursed.

“What?” you whimpered, genuinely distressed at feeling him so close but not inside you. If he didn’t move – and soon – you might cry or come.

“Condom,” he blurted. “I didn’t grab one before coming here. Do you have one?”

Stomach sinking, you shook your head.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Hoseok hung his head. “I’m sorry, baby. We don’t have to–”

“I’m clean,” you said, and he froze. “I got tested after the breakup and I haven’t been with anyone since. I’m on the pill, too. So…”

Slowly, Hoseok looked up. “You want me to fuck you… raw?”

“If you want…”

You said this, uncertain because Hoseok had the oddest look on his face, as though your words physically pained him.

“Fuck, yes I want,” he whispered. “I’m clean, too. I promise. Got tested last month.”

“Okay,” you said, slipping your arms around him. “I trust you, Hobi.”

Gaze melting, Hoseok nodded and bent to kiss you again. With each roll of his hips, he worked his cock deeper. Lips parted, you groaned and enjoyed the feeling of him filling you. Hoseok moved slow, rubbing your clit with his thumb the entire way.

Somewhat dazed, you imagined what it would’ve been like to lose your virginity to Hoseok. It probably would’ve been much more pleasurable than the way it actually happened.

Finally, Hoseok exhaled as he bottomed out. Lowering himself to his elbows, he gave an experimental roll of his hips.

“Oh,” you whispered, clutching him closer.

Hoseok’s eyes shone in the darkness above you. “What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking… how nice it would’ve been to lose my virginity to you.”

His jaw clenched. “You can’t just… fucking say things like that, Y/N.”

“Why not? You said way dirtier things to me earlier.”

“This is different, though,” he argued. “I actually could’ve been that person. I’ll never forgive the asshole who made you bleed.”

Heat rose to your face. “I should never have told you that.”

Hoseok shifted on top of you, causing his cock to go deeper. “No,” he exhaled, gaze roaming your face. “I’m glad you told me. I’ll just try and erase that experience from memory.”

Before you could ask what that meant, Hoseok thrust his hips forward. Your lips parted as he filled you, gasping a little as your hands found his back. Slower, he pulled out and pushed back inside. Spread out underneath him, Hoseok kept you at his mercy with each roll of his hips.

His cock was – oh my god, you’d never felt anything like this. Each toe-curling thrust of his hips had you biting back moans. You’d had sex, but you didn’t think you’d ever been fucked like this. Like Hoseok knew what he was doing and wanted to make you come – needed to make you come. Already, you felt yourself tightening, unable to withstand the steady thrust of his cock.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face in his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok said, trying to see you. “Slower?”

“No. I – I’m gonna come soon.”

“Oh?” He paused. “Already?”

“Stop it,” you groaned. “Who knew you were a fucking god amongst mortals?”

When you looked up, he smirked and slid his palms to your thighs. “Hold these open for me,” he said, thrusting in slow, shallow strokes.

You obliged, holding your thighs open so he could see you fully.

“Fuck.” Hoseok’s breath hitched a little. “About to come and I haven’t even done this.” Dragging his knuckles to either side of your clit, he squeezed and made you gasp. “Or this,” he added, moving to cup your breasts.

Tugging your nipples between fingers, he deftly pulled down and made you moan. Hoseok did this again before letting go, lowering himself to his forearms with a wicked smile.

“But baby already wants to come,” he said, kissing you softly. “This gorgeous pussy just wants to come on my cock. Is that right?”

“I can’t decide if I want to slap you,” you groaned, chest heaving. “Or tell you – fuck yes, it does.”

Hoseok’s gaze narrowed. “Shit. Both sound good to me.”

You moaned again, and this time Hoseok had pity on you. Hand sliding between you, he began to fuck faster and roll your clit with his thumb.

“That’s it,” he grunted, hips slamming against you. “Such a good girl, about to come so hard on my cock. Relax, baby. Let me take care of it,” he said, moving faster.

He began to fuck harder, deeper and everything within you tightened to a breaking point. Everything was too much, so sensitive – whimpering his name, you shuddered apart. A fresh wave of arousal soaked the sheets and Hoseok went still, hips faltering against yours.

Dazed, you managed to open your eyes. You wanted to tell him to keep going. You wanted to tell him to come inside you, but before you could utter a word, you saw Hoseok’s face.

“Oh,” you said, wincing as you looked down. “Sorry. I squirt sometimes – is that weird?”

Hoseok stared at you like he’d won the fucking lottery. “Is it – weird?” he breathed. “Weird? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Y/N.” Gaze glinting, he pushed your thighs upwards and onto your chest. “Wanna see if I can do it again.”

You nodded, trembling – and then gasped when Hoseok let go for real.

Back arching, you moaned as he began to fuck you. Hoseok moved hard and fast, his cock pounding relentlessly into your needy pussy. You could barely catch your breath but somehow, this just made you want it more. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it as you tightened around him.

He seemed determined to make good on his promise, giving in to the mind-numbing feeling of fucking you hard. You began to see stars, so whipped for the feeling of his cock pounding into you. Crying out his name, you arched your hips up to his.

He slammed into your g-spot, making you tremble beneath the force of his onslaught. Unyielding, he drove you towards your second orgasm of the night. Everything was overwhelming, making you clutch at him harder. The sensation was nothing but pure lust and pleasure – and then you broke, seeing black as you came for the second time.

You felt yourself clench, arousal gushing from your pussy to soak the sheets again. Hoseok groaned, saying your name when he finally came. Rope after rope of cum filled your cunt and when he was finally done, he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

Eyes fluttering, you let out a shaky laugh. Hoseok exhaled, chest pressed to yours as his expression softened.

You grinned up at him, still breathless. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” He smiled dreamily back. “Wow.”

When he tried to roll but keep himself inside you, you laughed.

“Hobi –”

“Shh. Let this happen.”

“Hobi!” you snorted, smacking his chest.

“What?”

“I need to clean up.”

Although his lips turned downwards, he sighed. “Alright, fine.”

Once he’d pulled out, you rolled from bed and hurried into the bathroom. After cleaning yourself up, you wandered into your bedroom and froze.

Hoseok had pulled all your sheets from the bed and stood helplessly in front of your closet.

“Uh.” You leaned your shoulder to the door. “What’re you doing?”

“I was trying to change your sheets, but your mom must keep them someplace different now.”

Unwittingly, you started to grin. It was just so strange having Hoseok in your room, trying to clean up after giving you the best double orgasm of your life. A good weird, though. The best kind of weird.

Heading into your bathroom, you returned with fresh sheets. “Here,” you said, handing them to Hoseok. Scooping the others from the floor, you stood. “I’ll throw these in the wash and be back.”

“Right back!”

You rolled your eyes at the demand but hurried to the laundry room and back. When you returned, you found Hoseok waiting for you in bed, sheets freshly changed. Slipping under the covers, you snuggled against his side.

Hoseok kissed the top of your head, leisurely stroking your arm with one hand. You stayed there for a while, happy to just be together again.

Then, Hoseok cleared his throat.

“What?” you said, looking up.

“I don’t remember if I said.” He sleepily smiled. “I loved the new script.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“The lead isn’t too perfect?”

Hoseok laughed, a bit sheepish. “I may have been projecting a little.”

“You were right, though. She was terrible.”

His gaze softened, looking at you. “No,” he said quietly. “But also, you can have the best screenplay in the world, Y/N and it’s still a game of chance. You’re talented and one day, everyone will see that. If not this screenplay, then the next one.”

His words were warm, settling over you like a blanket. Hoseok always believed in you when you couldn’t believe in yourself. You had more confidence in yourself now but sometimes, it was nice to have someone who supported you unconditionally. Someone without an agenda or anything in it for themselves. Someone who loved you and whom you loved back.

“Hobi?” you said, laying your head to his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Are we dating?

His chest shook as he laughed. “If you want to be.”

“I want to be.”

“Good. Me too.”

You nodded, waiting a little longer and then said, “Hoseok?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warned. “If my parents come home and find you naked in my bed, you won’t live long enough to see the honeymoon phase.”

Hoseok snorted and you laughed, rolling over to kiss him again. Eventually you got out of bed, put on your clothes, and went downstairs to watch the Christmas movie, but nothing seemed to change the ear-splitting grin on your face.

With Hoseok beside you and hot chocolate in hand, you begrudgingly admitted it may have been a good idea to come home for the holidays, after all.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 HAPPY HOBI-DAYS, ALL!

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[ptergwen]

through the lens

w/c: 2.3k

warnings: swearing and mentions of blood (all fluff tho!)

summary: yours and peter’s date night doesn’t go as planned, thanks to his “little” accident and mj’s photography project

a/n: it’s been a minute but i’m back! for now lol i promise i’ll be way more active when exam season is over <3 this was based off the lovely pic above taken by the even lovelier zendaya and i hope you enjoy these… let’s call it random workings of my mind

-

“hang on, can you come closer?” mj instructs you, you promptly stepping towards her. “is this good?” “great,” she affirms and squints behind the camera. “smile really big on the count of three, okay? one, two, three!” doing as she says, you give mj your cheesiest grin with your eyes squeezed shut and all. she snickers while snapping the moment on her polaroid.

mj asked you to be her subject for a photography project. you’re happy to do it, although it’s super last minute. like, barging-into-your-room-and-begging-you-for-help last minute. she was supposed to turn this in days ago. lucky for mj, her teacher was feeling generous and gave her an extension.

you have to work fast because of mj’s deadline and your plans with peter. he’s coming over for a movie marathon and cuddles right about now. well, he’s actually running a tad bit late. that’s typical peter for you.

“just a couple more, and then you’re free,” mj informs you while shaking out the polaroid. “this is honestly pretty fun, you know.” you glance at the photo she’s holding with an eyebrow quirked in surprise. she captures you well. “what made you choose me?” “no one else was free on a saturday,” she snorts and tosses the picture in a pile with the rest.

your mouth falls agape. “i’m not free! peter’s gonna be here in…” you check the time on your phone, much to your dismay. “he’s a few minutes late, but still. i have things to do, too.” a smirk sets on mj’s face as she gets ready for the next photograph. “relax, y/n/n. i was kidding. i’m sure spider-dweeb will be here sooner than you know it.” sighing lightheartedly, you take a seat on your bed.

“don’t call him that,” you shake your head. mj throws her own head back to the ceiling. “ugh, but that was a good one,” she insists, you only humming. “it’s better than penis parker, at least.” “nah, i like the alliteration,” you laugh out and earn a giggle from mj. “you’re lucky parker doesn’t have super hearing, or does he?” winking, you hit a pose for mj. you’re looking at her over your shoulder with smolder eyes.

“ask him yourself, after you get this shot.”

the two of you continue messing around with her polaroid until the film is almost gone, and peter has yet to arrive. you’re starting to worry. you aren’t sure where he could be.

he doesn’t patrol on weekends unless it’s an emergency, and he would’ve told you if there was one already. he’s never this late without sending a text, either. it’s almost an hour past when date night should’ve started. on the other occasions peter has gone off the grid, they didn’t end well.

“i’m freaking out, em. do you think he’s in some kind of trouble?” you ask mj, pacing around your bedroom. she offers a sympathetic shrug. “maybe he just ate some bad yogurt. remember last time?” being the dummy he is, peter once scarfed down an entire tub of vanilla yogurt before he realized it was expired. no one heard from him for days. he didn’t show up to school or answer any calls.

may ended up inviting you over and explaining he’d gotten a stomach bug, which you then tended to him for the rest of. the story was so amusing, and so peter.

“may doesn’t buy him dairy anymore. why do you think he always raids your freezer?” you bring your fingers up to rub your temples. “the kid can empty ice cream cartons in one bite,” she agrees, silently cringing. her curiosity piques at the fact. “is that also a power?” “who cares?” you nearly shout, your fingers curling into fists. “what i wanna know is if peter is fucking okay.”

on cue, there’s a knock at your apartment door. you and mj exchange looks of urgency, both rushing out of your room to answer.

mj follows you through the hall and stands by your side while you fumble with the lock. when your door pulls open, ned has his hand raised to knock again. “ned? what are you doing here?” you don’t give him the chance to speak. “have you heard from peter? he was supposed to be here a while ago, but he never showed.” rather than answering in words, ned takes a step aside.

the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. peter peeks out from behind him, cuts and bruises littering his flushed face. he gives you a lopsided smile.

“you have your answer,” mj murmurs to you and eyes ned curiously. he lets out a nervous chuckle. “here he is.” you push past ned and practically jump into peter’s arms, your hug bone-crushing. “peter, oh my god! are you okay?” wincing, peter hugs you back by your waist. his chin rests carefully on your head.

“hey… i’m alright, baby. still pretty sore, though,” he sucks his lower lip between his teeth. you take the hint to loosen your grip on him. “i was worried something bad might’ve happened to you. i… i guess i was right.” your tone softens, you threading a hand in his curls. they’re completely disheveled from whatever went down with him.

ned heads inside to catch up with mj, the two of them letting you have a moment alone.

“someone’s got a spidey sense of their own, huh?” peter tries to lighten the mood by joking. it doesn’t work, a frown still evident on your face as you try to untangle his once soft locks. “baby, everything’s fine. i just… had a little accident is all. no big deal,” he reassures you and moves in to peck your lips. you’re so shocked that you dodge the kiss.

“little? your whole face is black and blue, pete!” you tug on the white collar of his button up, peter letting out a shaky breath. your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, touch gentle. “how’d you get like this?” he licks across his lips shyly and sets his hands on your hips. “see, on the way over there were these bad guys who-“

“no there weren’t,” ned cuts in, scoffing at the beginning of his friend’s story. peter shoots him a warning look over your head. “yes there were, ned. you weren’t even there!” he catches mj glaring at him before he continues. “don’t listen to him. anyway, i had to fight them because…” when he trails off, you stroke your thumb across his cheek, avoiding any wounds in the way. raising both eyebrows, mj speaks up.

“because why? go on, parker. i’m intrigued,” she encourages him. everyone can tell peter is lying except you. the question really is, what’s he lying about? he gulps down his spit, pulling your body against his for comfort. “take your time, peter. we can wait,” you say only for him to hear. his love filled eyes meet yours, and he nods. ned huffs at the dramatics unfolding before him.

“dude, you’re making this way worse than it actually is. just tell her!” he demands, mj cocking her head to the side. peter’s gaze flits between the two of them. “tell me what?” you wonder softly and tilt his chin, willing him to look at you again. “i… i…” peter’s shoulders slump, his voice lowering in defeat. “there weren’t any bad guys.”

“of course there weren’t,” ned confirms. “no shit,” mj adds. exhaling, you wait for your boyfriend to further elaborate. “what really happened, then? be honest, pete.” peter lets go of you so he can come into your apartment properly, you shutting the door behind him. he scratches the back of his neck as he fills you in. “ok. um, me and ned were hanging out.”

ned is attempting to stifle a laugh for some reason, which mj elbows him for. you take one of peter’s hands. “yeah?” “we were at my place, and… you know those really slippery steps on the sixth floor?” peter pauses for someone to answer, playing with your fingers. “the ones flash almost wiped out on once?” mj questions in amusement. he lets a quiet chuckle out. “good times. yeah, those.”

his gaze averts to the ground, you listening on. “so, i was walking ned out on my way over. we were talking about spidey stuff-“ “as per usual,” mj mumbles to herself. ned raises his hands in defense. “—and i told ned i could always stick my landings. he didn’t believe me.” you playfully roll your eyes, seeing where this is going. “so… i, uh, decided to show him,” peter finishes off.

“i did a, um, backflip. tripped and fell down the flight of stairs,” he finally admits to you, putting his other hand on top of your intertwined ones. “clearly, i was wrong.” his bloody face is now red from humiliation. “you didn’t trip, dude. you freaking summersaulted!” ned corrects him and bursts into laughter he’s been holding back. “idiots, both of you,” mj simply remarks.

“that’s it? why didn’t you just say that?” you almost laugh yourself. groaning, peter rests his forehead against yours. “because it’s embarrassing! i wanted you to think i’m a tough guy or whatever.” placing both hands on his cheeks this time, you nuzzle your nose against his. “you don’t have to be a tough guy to impress me, babes. you’re kind, smart, funny. makes up for you being such a klutz.”

peter cracks a grin, easily capturing your lips in the kiss he didn’t get to before. it doesn’t last long because mj gags and ned whistles at you. you’re both giggling when you pull apart, peter kissing the tip of your nose for good measure.

“you really mean that?” he checks, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. “of course. i have a thing for himbos,” you tease and poke at his bare chest. his eyes widen. “how about i get you some ice and you find our first movie?” you’re already off to the kitchen, beaming at peter. “date night’s still on?” he happily plops down on your couch, mj showing ned her pictures from earlier.

“as soon as those two get out of here,” you call loudly enough so ned and mj hear you. “yeah, yeah. we’re leaving,” mj deadpans, shoving the photos back into her portfolio. peter glances over at it curiously. “what’s that for?” “photography project,” she says and gets an idea. “i have some film left. y/n took up most of it… you losers want the rest?”

while mj coerces her way to a higher grade, you put some popcorn in the microwave for your movie marathon.

“well, i could use a new lockscreen. i’m in!” ned quickly concedes. him and mj both give peter hopeful looks. “i’m not!” he protests, squishing one of your pillows against his chest. “with my face looking like… this? forget about it.” mj walks over to him and places her portfolio on the coffee table. “what? those gashes are gnarly… in a good way, i mean,” she promises.

“painful, too,” peter murmurs. “y/n, hurry up with that ice!” mj demands, grabbing the polaroid camera from its string around her neck. you wave her off. “what i’m saying is, they’ll look sick in my portfolio.” mj forces a smile, ned looking at her weirdly. “uh, what’s the theme of your project again?” “freestyle, baby,” mj casually replies.

peter comes up with a condition that could persuade him. “if you say please, i might consider it,” he concludes, mj perking up. “please be in my project. pretty please?” she instantly requests, ned pursing his lips from behind her. peter rubs his chin. “y/n, what do you think? should i?” you pipe in from the kitchen. “yeah, so she’ll leave my house.”

“you heard the lady. i’ll do it,” peter gives in. all but squealing, mj gestures for ned to sit. “this’ll only take a few minutes. you guys are really saving my ass.” ned gets comfortable next to peter on the couch, who wants to see how far mj will really go. “aw, we are? i believe that calls for a…” ned catches on. “it comes after please…” mj picks up her camera with gritted teeth. “thank you, morons. say cheese!”

that’s the only warning peter and ned get before they’re blinded with the flash. ned does a toothy grin as he leans into peter’s side. peter musters up the best smile he can, hair a mess and cuts burning pink on his face. satisfied, mj snatches the photograph as it pops out.

“pleasure doing business with you two,” she states, you joining the three of them in the living room. you set the popcorn on the table and give peter his ice pack. he presses it to his cheek, kissing the back of your hand. “send me that!” ned reminds mj, helping himself to your bowl of popcorn. she salutes him.

“there’s my star. what do you say, y/n? wanna take one more really quick?” mj suggests, already holding up her polaroid. you take the other cushion next to peter, your head on his shoulder. “can peter be in it with me? since he’s in the modeling mood tonight.” he wraps an arm tightly around you. “let’s do it, sweetness.”

eagerly jumping in front of you two, mj crouches down to get a better angle. “on the count of three. one, two, three!” the camera clicks, and you surprise peter by laying a smooch on one of his cheeks. he’s holding the ice against his other, genuinely smiling for this picture. ned coos at you, mj showing off her work when it dries.

“how adorable,” she says sarcastically but means it. peter nods at her in appreciation, his lips brushing the side of your head. “what can i say, you’re a pro,” you compliment mj. “come on, em!” ned cheers through a mouthful of popcorn.

tonight was an unexpected and exciting mess, even if your date night did get crashed.

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Five)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Mild Sexual References

Words: 1,848

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

YOUR POV

Two weeks had passed since you visited your friend Denise in Dublin and it was time for the annual Galway Arts Festival.

Denise had been working on a photography project for the past year and had been nominated for a student award in Galway as part of which ten of her photographs were being displayed during the Arts Festival.

Whilst, as you had expected, Cillian didn’t contact you, you knew that he would be there to support his daughter. Being an artist himself, he was very proud of her and her work and he supported her projects not only mentally but also financially with the caveat that she would finish her degree at Trinity College.

Unlike him, he didn’t want her to drop out of university even though she hated it and you certainly understood his reasoning.

Contrary to Denise, you had no creative bone in your body. You enjoyed art and theatre, but weren’t an artist or performer yourself. Instead, you were an A Grade Law Student who had become rather bored in Galway and had recently applied for a scholarship to Oxford University.

Reading was your passion and you had always been known as a geek. In school, you were the girl that no one liked, nerdy, not interested in fashion or social media and wearing braces, which, luckily, had been removed three years ago.

You were shy and it was only for Denise that you came out of your shell. She was popular in school, mostly due to her name, but also because she was generally confident and, over the years, she helped you gain confidence especially after you had left high school.

But, today, you knew you would be questioning your gained confidence once again since, first of all, you would be seeing Cillian again and the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about him in an intimate way and, secondly, you were featured completely naked on some of Denise’s photographs.

Whilst the photographs were artistic and not sexual in any way and your most intimate part wasn’t visible on them, it bothered you knowing that people you disliked would see you so vulnerable and you couldn’t remember why you had agreed to being photographed like that.

The other woman who Denise chose to photograph was Amalie. She was 23 and had been Denise’s friend for a while as well but, unlike you, she began modelling professionally when she was just 16. You all went to the same private school together and, clearly, her lifestyle had been largely financed by her parents. She always wore expensive clothes and had no interest in pursuing a career other than modelling, which barely sustained her lifestyle considering the few small jobs she got.

***

Just as you served your last cup of coffee to an elderly lady sitting in the corner of the café you were working at, you saw Denise, Amalie and two other friends of Denise walk in.

‘Hey guys, take a seat. I will be right with you. I am just about to finish my shift’ you said as you hung up your apron.

‘Please tell me you will get changed before the Gallery opening tonight?’ Amalie asked somewhat weirdly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you sat down at the table with her, Denise and the others before ordering some coffees for yourselves.

‘No, I thought I would go like this’ you said sarcastically, looking down at your coffee-stained clothes.

‘I bought a dress for tonight’ you then said, after Amalie didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm.

‘Right’ she then said as she flicked through Instagram and you simply looked at Denise who shrug her shoulders.

‘What are you looking for?’ you asked curiously as her eyes seemed to be glued to her phone.

‘She is looking to find more photos of my dad and Laura Jennings’ Denise said, rolling her eyes.

‘Laura Jennings, as in the actress?’ you asked, causing Amalie to nod.

‘Yes, apparently they have been dating’ Amalie then confirmed, causing you to swallow harshly. You knew that you shouldn’t care but you couldn’t help it. Knowing that Cillian was seeing someone made you feel ill.  

‘And you care about that why?’ you then asked Amalie after an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine.

‘Apparently, just like you, Amalie thinks my dad is a DILF’ Denise huffed out before telling you how disgusting you all were.

‘Well, he is though…he is super hot’ Amalie then joked before carrying on. ‘And I don’t understand how you don’t know about Laura Jennings and whether this is true or not. You need to find out’ Amalie then said but Denise simply shook her head.

‘My father doesn’t share this sort of stuff with me and I certainly don’t want to know about his sex life, thank you very much. In so far as I am concerned, he doesn’t have sex, ever…yuck! Also, I would appreciate if you could not talk about my dad anymore, please. It grosses me out’ Denise said and you knew that, all of this had become a common occurrence ever since the day the first episode of Peaky Blinders aired on BBC, a show which Denise refuses to watch herself because of the heavy sexual content and a show which you, only a week ago, had begun to binge watch.

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian walked into the basement after you had left, he immediately saw the small folded up note you had left him but, reading it, made him somewhat uncomfortable.

He was torn about what to do with it and certainly knew that he should ignore it. He couldn’t see you again even if he wanted to.

The fact that you were 23 years younger than him and that you were his daughter’s best friend made it all wrong and highly inappropriate and he didn’t know what had gotten into him in the first place when he gave into you.

He had never felt attracted towards you in any sort of way until that last visit which was the first time had seen you since you and your family had moved away.

You changed in many ways and he wasn’t sure what it was that he liked about you. But what he knew was that it was more than just sexual attraction, which was usually something he knew how to supress.

With that in mind, he placed your note into his wallet and decided to ignore it for now. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.

***

With his bags packed it was time for him to return to Manchester and resume filming of the final season of Peaky Blinders.

The first week of filming went well and Cillian decided to spend the weekend with his friend, fellow actress Laura Jennings. Cillian and her had developed a friend with benefits sort of relationship. No strings attached and no feelings involved. After his divorce from Denise’s mother, he wasn’t ready for anything else and Laura would certainly not have been the type of woman he would have wanted a relationship with in the first place.

Unlike him, she wasn’t press shy and, whilst they kept their arrangement a secret as best as they could, she was otherwise quite active on social media.

Cillian, on the other hand, only maintained a private Instagram account with the sole purpose of being able to check on his children. Whilst they were adults, he was still worried about them, especially Denise who had recently gotten herself in a lot of trouble after distancing herself from this Jeremy boy.

***

‘Another wine?’ Laura asked as Cillian was relaxing on top of the doonas, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs, after they had spent the last hour doing exactly what friends with benefits would do after not having seen each other for over two weeks due to busy filming schedules.

‘Yes please…thanks’ he responded as he reached for his phone after a notification had popped up.

It was his daughter Denise who had posted on Instagram and, since she hadn’t posted for a while, he decided to check it out, hoping that she wasn’t with Jeremy again.

To his surprise, three new pictures of Denise and her friends showed up when he opened the APP and, one of them, there was you.

In the picture, you were wearing accompanied by a man in his late twenties, wearing a suit while you were wearing a dark blue dress and he couldn’t help but wonder who the man by your side was.

You looked simply stunning, with your hair long and open and your shoulders exposed. You were wearing only a little bit of make up and showed your beautiful smile.  

‘There you go Mr Murphy’ Laura then said as she returned to the bedroom with another glass of wine, pulling Cillian’s phone out of his hand and climbing on top of him.

‘Round Two?’ she then asked eagerly as she reached for another condom, but Cillian’s thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

‘Maybe tomorrow, I am tired. It has been a long week, sorry’ he explained, causing Laura to pout with disappointment.

But the second round never eventuated as Cillian left Laura’s house the following morning to drive back to Manchester to resume filming.

On his way back to Manchester, he called his daughter Denise to check on her and while he did, he enquired about your companion on the Instagram posts.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Denise asked somewhat confused but Cillian played it cool.

‘He looks familiar, that’s all. Didn’t he go to your school?’ he then asked, playing dumb.

‘Oh god no, he is 29. His name is Connor and he is an accountant. Y/N wouldn’t date anyone our age. You know she isn’t a normal 21-year-old’ Denise joked, referring to your nerdiness and intellect.

‘Apparently not’ Cillian chuckled before asking another question about the stranger on the picture. ‘So, they are dating?’ he asked.

‘I think they went on two or three dates or something. Why do you care?’ Denise asked.

‘No reason. I was just wondering’ Cillian confirmed before changing the topic.

   Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[bokutosworld]

convenience store stranger | suna rintarou

pairing: suna x f!reader  word count, genre: 2.1k words, college au. fluff. another meet cute story lol.  warning: none  summary: in which your late shifts become less boring and more interesting when a cute stranger stumbles in at 2 AM.  a/n: my first time writing for suna god im scared but i really liked how this turned out!! 

The first time he meets you happens on one of his late night convenience store runs. It was exams season and Suna’s been pulling all-nighter after all-nighter. To say he was exhausted would’ve been an understatement. 

He’s barely making it through on the third night and if he didn’t take a break soon, he was sure he’d have passed out on his desk. With his mind hazy from reading too many words and trying to understand a semester’s worth of lessons in one night, he decides to stand up and get some fresh air. 

Which is how he found himself currently standing at aisle four of the only convenience store that was still open near his apartment. He scans the rack for something that can wake him and his brain up. He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing but he could definitely feel eyes burning holes in the back of his head. 

He settles on a pack of jelly sticks and a cup of spicy instant noodles and heads towards the counter. You mutter a greeting when he reaches the cashier and begin scanning his items. 

When he hands over the cash for payment, your fingers brush with his cold ones, making you recoil harshly as if he was repulsing.

“Something wrong?” He laughs when he sees your reaction. “I know I look like a mess now but I won’t bite you.” He bends his knees slightly, tilting his head to get a look at your embarrassed face.

“No, I’m sorry.” You avoid his intense gaze, continuing to pack his purchase. When you look at him, he’s still staring with his piercing eyes that it almost takes your breath away. 

Shaking your head to bring yourself to reality, you give him his items. “Your hands felt cold and I was just shocked.” You feel that same electricity sparking between you again when he takes the bag from you. “I.. well.. thank you. Have a great evening.”

“It’s 2 AM,” Suna chuckles and you sigh before correcting yourself and bowing to him in goodbye. “See you around,” he shouts over his back as he walks out the door. It was the first time he saw you in that store and he was sure it wasn’t going to be the last. 

The second time he’d actually planned it according to your shift. If his past trips to the store were anything to go by, he’d learned that you always took the evening shift. It was something he discovered after being called out by your co-worker on the third time that he restlessly looked around the store during a visit. 

He should be on his bed, phone in his hand as he mindlessly scrolled until he fell asleep. But with the memory of his interaction with you lingering on his mind, he wanted to see you.

“Hey, got time for a customer?” He greets the moment he steps inside the empty convenience store. You look up from the book that you were reading and quickly stand to welcome him. “What are you reading?” 

Hiding the book from his view, you retort, “Aren’t you going to buy something?” 

He grins, taking in your tired disposition and the bags that had formed under your eyes before retreating to the shelves. When he returns, he slides over a can of energy drink, iced coffee, and a large bag of chips. 

You assume he’d leave immediately once he’s paid for everything. You certainly didn’t expect him to take out the coffee and give it to you. 

“This is for you.” He opens his own drink and leans by the counter. “Doesn’t it ever get boring here? I mean it’s midnight and you’re alone. I’m betting not many people even drop by at this time.” He faces the door, crossing his arms around his chest and staring at both of your reflections at the glass. 

Worn out from your classes in the day, you take his coffee offering, instantly feeling the rush of caffeine flow through your veins and waking you up. “The job pays relatively well. Besides I can’t really work in the mornings, I have uni.”

“So you’re a college student too.” He turns around and extends a hand out to you. “I’m Suna Rintarou.”

You introduce yourself as you shake hands with him. And as soon as pleasantries were exchanged, he immediately launched into a story about how his earlier day went. He was a natural conversationalist and despite this being your first time talking with him, you didn’t feel an ounce of awkwardness. You didn’t know what it was about him but his presence made you feel comfortable. 

You learned about what he was studying (to your surprise, Psychology), how he spends his weekends playing volleyball (he was a middle blocker and an excellent one at that, he boasted), and how he ended up here during the night he first saw you (the all-nighter went well and he passed all his exams). 

He rips open the chips he bought and offers you some as you lay your story before him. He munches as he listened to you rant about how you loathed your course (Business Management) and the many case studies and papers you had to do each day. He nods his head in understanding as you explain why you needed this part-time job (to pay for apartment fees). 

You were having so much fun in his company that you didn’t notice the time pass by. (He arrived to the store at 12:32 AM. The clock on the wall now reads 2:32 AM). And for the duration of his stay, you were surprised that no one ever came by. He only ever left your side when a taxi driver walked in. 

Suna steered clear from the counter and kept his distance as you did your job. From your peripheral, you could see that he watched you like a hawk from the side and it made you somehow conscious. When the customer exited, you playfully threw a tissue at him, 

“I couldn’t concentrate when you were standing there and looking at me like that!” 

He went back to his position but this time, he leaned close with his hands on the counter. “Like what?"  

Well how could you say to him that you thought he looked effortlessly hot in his sweatshirt and track pants? And was that an adorably messy bedhead? How could you say that you liked the teasing smile that he’d been giving you throughout the night?  

You chuckle and shake your head, “Nothing.” You reach for the book you were reading prior his arrival and took your seat. “Don’t you have classes tomorrow? You should go back.”

“Do you not want me around anymore?” 

“It’s not that, I…”

He cuts you off, “Good, then it’s settled. I’m not going anywhere. I like talking with you too much to go back home. Let me entertain you some more.” He sits down at the chair on one of the tables near the counter and then goes back to chatting with you. 

Since that night, Suna had been scheduling more trips to the convenience store. Sometimes, he’d really only visit to bother you. At times, he’d bring his books and laptop with him so he could work on a paper while you restocked the shelves and cleaned around. On rare occasions, he’d help you out on a business plan and the customers who’d enter the store would be amused at the sight of you and him huddled behind the counter with your serious thinking faces on. 

He’d become a part of your life that it felt unnerving not to have him around on your shifts. And it certainly showed on your face how disappointed and heartbroken you were when consecutive nights passed without his visits. Your co-worker even called you out on it. 

“So where’s the cutie been?” She asked one time when the two of you were at the back lounge while you logged in for your shift. You groan at the nickname she gave him and she laughs at you.

“How would I know?” 

“Don’t you guys talk almost every day and night?”

“Only on nights that he visits me.” You pause, thinking about the possibilities why he could’ve stopped coming. And before you knew it, you were ranting. “God, are we even friends? I don’t know his number. Did he ghost me? Is this considered ghosting? It’s been a week. I’m scared I did or said something.” 

She’s watching you pace around the room. “Maybe he got bored of me. Or maybe he realized I’m not really worth his time and dipped. Sleeping is much better than hanging out with me at 1 AM anyway.”

You’re stopped in your tracks when she suddenly grabs your shoulders. “Overthinking is not a good look on you.” She makes you take deep breaths to calm down. “I’m sure he’s just busy right now. He’ll visit again soon.” 

“I don’t know why I’m being like this.” 

The look she gives you is incredulous, her mouth gaping wide at your statement. “Are you serious?” 

“What?” You ask, not anticipating the next words that would come from her. 

“It’s obvious that you like him.” 

The next time you see him was on campus. You don’t know how long it’s been since he last spent time with you on your shift. (Though if you were counting, you were definitely sure that it’s been two weeks and three days since then.) 

You tried not to think too much about what his absence could mean but the pang in your heart never left. Those two weeks that he didn’t show up allowed you some time to think about your conversation with your friend. You like him. 

Back then, you were too quick to shut down the idea. Denying any ounce of feeling for the boy as you saw him as no more than someone who had too much time on his hands to bother you on your shifts. A good friend is what you specifically used to defend your relationship with him. 

So then why was it that your heart was beating so rapidly as Suna waved at you from across the cafeteria? Why couldn’t you stop smiling as you watched him make his way to your table and sit down beside you?

“Hey there.” He slings his arms around and pulls you for a side hug. “Long time no see.” 

You almost couldn’t hear him over the loud thumping of your heart in your ears. He’s still smiling and waiting for you to reply. “Yeah, been a while. I’ve gotten the peace and quiet back in my shifts.” 

He breaks out in laughter while opening a snack bar. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to stop by. I just came out from a major presentation that I’ve been preparing for during the past weeks. And guess what?” 

You perk your eyebrows at his question. “What?” 

“Our group did great.” He raises a hand for a high-five and you indulge him. “The teacher liked our slides and our analysis of the topic. Ah, I feel so good right now!” He leans back with his hands behind his head, but he suddenly jerks. 

“We should go out!” Suna grabs your hands and looks at you expectantly. “You’re free the whole day tomorrow right? You’re not working the shift? Let’s celebrate. It’s my treat!” 

Feeling overwhelmed by his invitation and his overall excitedness, you laugh and pull back. “Calm down, Suna. I don’t know about tomorrow.” 

“Why? Are you busy?”

“Not really but..” 

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” He tucks a loose hair behind your ear, leaning close with his voice barely over a whisper, “It’s perfect. I’ve wanted to take you on a date for a long time now.” 

“What?” You stare at him wide-eyed. 

“Come on, you’ve never thought about us?” He finds the situation entertaining. Your flustered reaction reminds him of the night that he met you. 

“Why do you think I’ve been coming to the convenience store when I could be sleeping at that time? I like being around you. My day doesn’t feel complete if I don’t at least see you or tell you about my day or listen to you rant about the latest episode of your favorite series.”

You like him. 

“Go out with me.” He kisses the back of your hand. “Please?” 

The corners of your lips unconsciously curves up and Suna sends your heart doing somersaults when he says something about how he’s finally got to see the beautiful smile he’s been wanting to see for weeks. 

Your friend was right. You do like him.