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inupibaldspot · 4 months

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From you, For him

| Part 2 of At him, For him

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : Normal like no curse and stuff AU where Gojo is in love with Geto’s lover but this time he has the chance to change everything. This contains time travel!

I wrote it in a way you can understand what’s happening even if your don’t read part 1 btw

·:*¨༺ Part 1 ༻¨*:·

Gojo Satoru feels as if he can’t breathe.

He inhales. His chest hurts and he has a horrible attempt at keeping his glazing eyes in check as he fakes a smile and claps his hands together; there was a blur silhouette of Geto and you in a distance in tears ,both wearing matching rings.

“Woah—! Congratulations you two.” Shoko smiles wildly as she brings her hands close to her mouth,cheering. She briefly turns to Gojo and looks back at the couple. “Keep it together,Gojo… you’ve done that for years so why bother showing it now.”

Gojo lets out a laugh. “How cruel…” of course Shoko knows he has had this unrequited love for years. He breathes out. “I’ll head out for a second.”

Shoko nods as she reaches out and puts a cigarette and lighter in his pocket. He mutters a ‘thanks’ as he opens the door, cold breeze immediately greeting him. He breaths in again as his hands search for warmth in his pockets, turning to the alleyway.

Once when he is secluded, he brings out the piece of cigarette Shoko handed him earlier as he places it in between his lips, his hands bringing up the lighter with one on the lighter as the other hand wraps to protect the small flame.

He did not smoke often—more like he didn’t even the last last time he did. Gojo sucks in a breath, his throat feels hot but his chest is lighter, no-he remembers smoking back in high school simply because of Shoko and Geto. His only two friends would leave him for smoke breaks and he didn’t want to be left alone so he simply picked up the habit.

Gojo quit after he met you since he didn’t feel the need to tag along Geto and Shoko anymore.

Somewhere in between college,meeting you and now, he didn’t seem to care anymore.

“Hey kid.”

“Fuck!” Gojo jumps, his teeth biting into the cigarette as his eyes glare sharply in the direction of the sound. A man sits along the far end of the alley way, away from him.

The white haired man contains his jumped heartbeat as he walks over the man who called him over. His eyes trail the dress he wore; it was a traditional dark piece of clothing and beads around his hand. This man was cosplaying as a Priest.

He didn’t say the word ‘cosplay’ lightly because first, to begin with, the man in front had a ‘magic ball’ in front of him as if he was waiting for people to share their future and second, he wasn’t too serious because boy—! That monk had thick hair on his head, not the shaven look you’d normally see.

Gojo met scammers; near the shopping center, outside popular restaurant and tourist attractions, by his house ringing on his doorbell and right now, infront of him.

“What‘cha gonna tell me,old man.” Gojo says as he peers in, with also taking in a puff of smoke. “That I’ll be having a wife and two kids in my 30s… If it’s not that, it means one of you is lying.” By ‘one of you‘ refers to the scammer-I mean fortune teller he let in his house because he was bored.

“Hahaha-! That’s not it.” The man laughs as he faces Gojo directly, it was then when he finally notices a stitch mark which stretches across his forehead. “Just wondering if you’d ever regretted things… ‘things’ which you wished you could go back and change..”

Gojo laughs as he drops the half-piece of cigarette on the ground, stomping on it. No long interested. “Of course. I still wish I could go back in time and not erase my answers because my teacher made all the answers to the MCQ ‘c’ just when I didn’t study.”

Fuck—just why did Yaga REALLY do that? Gojo thinks back at the thought.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Gojo turns when he hears the man speak.

The man stands close—very close to him as his hands were making a V-sign (a peace sign) , fingers pointed near his eyes before the old man was stabbed into his eyes.

“Oh my god— shit! That hurt, old man.” Gojo places his hands on his eyes as he tries to soothe the pain from it. “What are you trying to do—huh…?”

He blinks once.

Twice.

He takes a deep breath. ‘It’s fine.’ He thinks to himself. ‘I’ve just lost my mind a tiny bit because y/n and Suguru are getting married.’

Gojo let out the breath and opened his eyes. Same scene. He was by a tree, near a building; he remembered this place being behind the building for the Class 1-3 who were studying the normal curriculum whereas advanced classes of class 4-5 students were in another building.

“What the actual heck is happening?” Gojo grumbles as he looks at the calendar on his phone. He was back in high school. He was sent back in time by about 7 years. “Fuck… I guess that man wasn’t a quack….”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“That’s why I need you to help.” You wiggled your toes in your shoes as you stand, smiling. The teacher,Yaga Masamichi, was in front of you, sitting on his chair as he continued to talk- maybe complain would be a better word- about a certain boy from the advanced class. “The boy is smart but he lacks discipline! He needs someone as hardworking as you and maybe it’ll rub on to him.”

You’ve heard of Gojo Satoru. You’ve never seen him but he was very infamous in high school . First, for being the son of the Gojo Estate. Two, for being a very tall, conventionally attractive boy. Third, for being a delinquent.

And that last part bothers you a lot, you’ve heard him get into fights, rumors of him smoking along the alleyway, ripping love letters into pieces and recently he skipped over all his tests making him fail his mid-terms.

You gulp. Hope he doesn’t beat you up…

Just then the door to the staff room slides open. You see enter, he was tall with white hair and lashes and the eyes in the most beautiful shade. No way this was Gojo right? He was so— beautiful.

Did he just make eye contact with you?

“Gojo come here.” Yaga calls out as he huffs. Gojo clears his throat as he walks to the teacher. When he was close enough Yaga continued. “This is y/n and I’m assigned to be your teacher. She’ll make sure you get all your works done plus make you study for the reassessment for the exam you skipped on.”

You watch Gojo who was towering beside you raise his hands and brought it up to his face, but from the angle you see the upward turn on the corner of his lips. Why was he smiling?

“Isn’t this -he points at you- from the normal department?” You huff when you were referred to as ‘this’. “You sure she is smart?”

“Don’t mess with y/n just because she isn’t from the advanced class— And also! In the last exam she was placed third overall , right below Suguru.” Yaga shouted back.

Your eyes trail back to him when the boy beside you seemed to still, You’ve heard of Geto Suguru too. Apparently a boy from the advanced class who was also popular for his good looks. But not only that— he had a delicate aura around him which makes people like him and to add on he was very much academically smart.

Gojo lets out a breath, as if it were more of an amazement in your opinion. You watch him take a small step back as he turns around and gives you a smile, god was unfair when he crafted this smile. “Then please take care of me, my tutor.” His face was close to yours.

‘My.’ You face almost burst with heat.

“Gojo stop bothering y/n.”

“Ouch—! That hurt sensei.”

Ever since then, once you hear the bell ring indicating school was over for the day, there would be Gojo poking his head into your class with a boyish grin plastered on his face, he takes your book-filled bag, slings it over his shoulder as you guys would walk to the library.

He sometimes passes by your classroom which is in the opposite building whenever he wants to go to the restroom in between classes—I mean he never did specify which restroom, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

And when he does, his gaze flickered towards you, taking in the way your gaze reflected the warm sun from outside.It becomes clear to Gojo then that even now, despite everything—in between ever but of confusion, anger and guilt, he doesn't actually want to lose you. To his best friend. To anyone else.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Warm.

The way the curtains fluttered from the gentle wind, letting in a cool breeze and a glow of the evening sun and you. You sitting not even an arm's length away and just like the pace of his heart which picked up, pushing every worry he could still have further and further away because there was no space for those in that moment.

There was just you. And he could feel your presence a lot closer now, her warmth not far away from him.

God, you were beautiful.

So beautiful, he would not mind spending the rest of his life memorizing each feature belonging of yours.

“Stop staring at me.” You let down the pen you were holding, looking away from your homework.

“I can’t stop.” He admitted.

You huff, the smirk on Gojo widened as he could see a faint color rush to your cheeks. “Just do your work…” you wave him off as you grumble.

“I’m already done,love.” He continues his teasing.

You pink as you let out a small shriek at the nickname; you rush close to him as you cover your hands on his mouth. “Shut up—Gojo, I don’t want to be murdered by your fangirls because of this.”

He pecks your hands by pursing his lips forward, into the palm of your hands making you shriek once more pulling away.

“Gojo!” You glare at him as you reach your hands out and comically wipe your hands on his blazer as he laughs at your reaction. He leans forward as he looks at your books. “What’s this?” He asks.

“Ah…” you say as you bring out a book closer to him. “I’m studying for my entrance exam for this university.”

“Already?” But that’s like months away.

“Yeah.” Your voice is laced with a smile, gojo almost sees shining glitters surrounding you. “It’s like… kind of my dream as a kid to go here.”

Gojo laughs at how adorable you sounded. “Why that university though?”

“My parents-“ you turn almost too quickly to face him but then you stop yourself as you clear your throat. “My parents went there and that’s how they met and fell in love.”

“Ah…” Just like you and Geto… His heart pains again as he is reminded.

You bend down as you lean your head on the table, letting out a sigh with your hands on your sides. “I hope I get in though…”

“You will.” He says confidently. He knows you will. “Nerds like you will get in.”

“Gojo, I’m not a nerd.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

“I’m not princess either!”

“Sure thing, love.”

“Oh— Gojo,stop that!”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“I need you to be serious, Satoru!”

He listens to you shout, even without turning to your direction he could basically sense you ‘huffing and puffing’, a habit you took till adulthood. He reaches out into the bushes, pushing the leaves away. “I am—! Sheesh, let me breathe.” Gojo laughs.

You two were currently near the patch of grass by the football ground; you had lost your key to the music club room—a room which was basically unused but you guys needed a room so you two can continue on with your study lessons.

You bend to look over the bushes while Gojo does around the bushes checking every shrub. “Oh lucky— someone’s cigarette and lighter is hidden here.” His smile widens as he reaches out for the gift, someone had kept here. “Satoru, don’t steal others' stash.” He puts it down upon hearing your words.

“So this where you go after classes,Satoru?”

He knew it was inevitable but he hoped he could extend it for as long as he could.

In front of him, holding a key was Geto Suguru, smiling at him with Shoko, a lollipop in her mouth peers over from beside him. “What you doing?”

Geto throws him the key at him which is catches instantly.He wanted the two of his friends meet you but he selfishly hoped it would be after like maybe, after you and Gojo date. Wow—what an optimistic! Gojo gulps, afterall what would he do if the two of you fall in love again?

“You found it!” You jump, unaware that the two figures were his friends. You turn your head to look at him, at him. Despite Geto Suguru standing near you, you looked at Gojo. The white haired boy’s heart pulsed, the slow and steady pump now erratic and heavy with emotions. Just you looking at him with a smile, at him like he was the only one on the planet m. For the first time.

“Who is this?” Shoko says as walks to to the bush and sticks her hands in. You laugh. “That cigarette was yours?” Shoko nods.

“This… this is y/n.” Gojo grumbles, speaking low. “She is helping me with my reassessment.”

“That’s what you get for skipping assignments and test.” Shoko teases.

Geto laughs.

Gojo eyes at your reaction and sighs in relief when you were still acting the same. Thank god, there was nothing of that ‘love at first sight’ going on. “I don’t need to take those test.Even Yaga knows I’m smart.”

Your roll your eyes. “I guess we won’t have those study sessions of now on, Gojo.”

“Wha— no! I need it.” Gojo jumps, as he comically starts shaking you, as if he got the most shocking news of the century. “No- nope! You can’t do that. I need you—!”

“Geto, let’s get going now.” She turns. Shoko looks over to Gojo, they make eye contact and the brown hair girl smiles.

He knows that smile.

That’s the smile Shoko gives when ever she figures out something. And equipped with a teasing look, Gojo is certain she knows that he is in love with you. “Good luck,Gojo.” With his studies or with you? Geto gives you guys a wave as he also turns around and walks way.

From then onwards, it’s as if the friendship which you guys have in the future,college days were happening now. Hanging out, study sessions, sometimes sneaking into parties and café date; the four of you. Just like right now as you’re in Gojo’s room, a flat rented nearby your future college.

“No way.” Shoko starts. “We’re all going to be attending the same college.” Her smile widens when you cheer and jump into her arms, she quickly looks over and sees a fond smile on Gojo’s face…hilarious!

Geto laughs as he takes a sip on his coffee as the two girls snuggle closer to each other. “Did you know about this?” He peers over to Gojo who finally seemed broken from his trance—you.

Gojo nods. “Yeah… I mean I’ve seen her study for her exams.” He clears his throat. “Have you played the new ‘digimon’ game?” He changes topic, whenever Geto speaks of you or to you, it makes him feel small. This isn’t good. He relishes this yet it was suffocation. Gojo would never hate his best friend—never, but sometimes it’s insecurity and sometimes it’s guilt which swallows him whole. ‘Is this okay?’

Shoko breaks away from the hug and she pulls on your cheeks fondly, she thinks you’re the most adorable human as she turns to Geto. “Smoke break.” Geto smiles and nods, following behind Shoko who led the way.

Gojo turns to you, eyes carefully trying to take in your presence that is before he notices something—your eyes are ‘lingering.’ He follows your gaze, carefully in the direction.

You were looking at Geto.

All emotions are wiped from his face. Gojo knew this could happen, you can fall in love with Geto all over again. He was the one who was messing with fate and time, yet— it hurt.

You turn to Gojo, your face tilts up to meet his gaze as your lips turn into a teasing smile which quickly flatters when you see Gojo’s expression. Your heart settles and softens, you relax and reach over the table to grab one of his hands. “…Satoru?”

He turns to you, and smiles. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“No…just thinking.”

You gulp wondering why it felt as if suddenly there was a huge rift when they were barely centimeters apart; for someone as big as Gojo his voice was so—so small. “…About?” You were almost scared to ask.

“Are you in love with Suguru?” Gojo beats himself for this, he has gone and done it now!

You tilt your head. “where did that come from?”

“Friends don’t give each other love-filled lingering looks.” He scoffs. “So tell me-“ no he was being pushy. Gojo felt so backed into a corner for a moment but when he locked eyes with you, he was hurting you with the way he was acting.

He stands up. “I think I need some fresh air.”

“If I did love him, what would you do?”

Were you testing him?

“Please—please don’t fall for anyone but me…” he mumbles.

You watch as he slumps down on the floor, on his knees, burying his face into his hands, curling up almost as if to protect himself. Gojo is no longer confident egoistic boy you know, right now he seemed so weak; as if he was tired after a long journey. “I have surrendered myself to you for all of time; past, present and future I am yours…”

Your head is dizzy with all this information. You need time, you need clarity. Gojo feels like he is losing himself in his thoughts and also rambles with no coherence to what his mind has to say. “I don’t know what do do with this emotion but if I try to stop them they overflow and-”

His heart seemed to thud to a stop in his chest and then start up again erratically, hands seemed to be incapable of doing anything other than hang close by his sides.

“Satoru, I love you…” you whisper and it is only then when he realizes you were also on your knees in front of him, thumbs wiping tears from his cheeks. “I’m sorry for joking— I don’t love Geto. It’s you I love. Don’t hate me?”

How can he hate you when you were still his everything: you were his everything even when you were intertwining hands with someone else?

“It’s me?” He breathes out. “Did you say you’re in love with me?”

You nod.

“Oh wow.” He says which makes you laugh.

“I love you…” He says, years of these words inside the depth of his heart, was dug out. “From the bottom of my soul, I’m head over heels for you, my love.”

You almost cry at his tone, so gentle.

He caresses your hair, tenderly, running his fingers through the soft, silky strands. When he eventually has his hands on your cheeks; your cheeks flushing as he gazes at you, captivated by your presence. Your eyes sparkle with wonder, your lips plush and rosy.

You are flawless, perfect in this moment and beautiful in his embrace.

Gojo didn’t even realize when he started to get so close to you. His lips pressed against her pulse in a kiss before he nipped the skin.His limbs burned where he touched you, you were warm. So it was cold after all, he realized somewhere along the line. His hands were freezing, clinging to your lower back.

Gojo wants to stay like this, holding you for a minute longer or forever.

A whisper in his head was telling him to let go—that it wasn’t right, but Gojo wouldn't. He was hanging onto a life line, it hurt, but if he let go now, he would drown.

Gojo was vulnerable. And you kiss him back. Kiss him till he is fine. Kiss him until all his worries fly— till he understands, you are equally so stupidly in love with him.

Unbeknownst to you two, Shoko peeks over inside the door, a small crack reveals what’s inside “You think they’re done?”

Geto laughs. “Of course not…but give them more time and they’ll be in bed.”

Shoko laughs lightly making sure she isn’t spotted yet as she then peers over to the taller boy beside her. “What about you? You good?”

“Yeah… it was just a crush.” Geto looked at Shoko from the corner of his eyes and his lips curl into a smile. Shoko was always so observant.

Taglist ˙✧˖° 🫧 ⋆｡—I tagged people who voted for time travel! Hope you guys don’t mind: @uuu55r64z46 @leviswifey-act62 @royaleashlyn @bakananya @bejwls @ritsatoru@washeduphasbeen @satorus-babygirl

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thisapplepielife · 24 days

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Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up Graduation challenge.

What's A Little Grand Theft Auto Between Friends?

Prompt: Graduation | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Nudity for Comedy, Smoking, Brief Mention of Underage Drinking | Tags: Post S2, Class of '85 Graduation Party at the Quarry, Randomly Teaming Up, And Then Having Fun Together, Steve Gets an Alternate Introduction to Eddie's Hot-Wiring Skills, Steve Ain't Body Shy, He Spent Too Many Years in Locker Rooms, Pre-Steddie

Coming tonight was a mistake, he's realized, because Steve isn't comfortable with this crowd, not anymore.

Decision made: He's leaving.

He places his plastic cup down on the open tailgate of a truck he's passing by.

"Thanks for the trash, Harrington," comes the snapping snarl, and Steve stops. He hadn't realized there was anyone sitting in the back of the truck. But there's Munson, in all black, blending into the night. The only thing visible, the cherry on the end of his lit cigarette.

"Sorry, man," Steve says, leaning up against the side of the pickup, "I didn't want to just, you know, throw it on the ground."

"How noble," Munson says, dripping with sarcasm.

Steve's too tired for another snotty showdown. Graduation party at the quarry sounded neutral enough, but he was wrong. He's done dealing with everyone, and everything, from Hawkins High.

Except Henderson and the kids. But they haven't started HHS yet, so they totally don't count, and tonight he can hate everything about the place.

Including the crown prince of shitty attitudes, Eddie "The Freak" Munson.

Steve takes the few steps back, grabs the cup, slings the beer that was mostly untouched into the grass. Holding up the empty cup to show Munson he's corrected this horrible offense.

"That's more like it," Munson says, cigarette dangling from his lip.

"Well, that's my cue," Steve says, and keeps walking.

"Wait! Wait a second," Munson asks, no demands, and Steve has no idea why he even thinks about going back, let alone does it.

But he does.

Backpedaling the few steps until he can almost see Munson again.

"What?" Steve asks.

"You leaving already?" Munson questions, and Steve just bobbles his head, because yeah, obviously.

"Can I get a ride back to town?" Munson asks, and Steve arches an eyebrow.

"Is this not your truck?" Steve asks.

"Nope," Munson answers, and Steve's hand flies up to toss the empty cup right at Munson's forehead.

Munson bats it away, laughing, as it clatters around noisily in the truck bed.

"You're a dickhead," Steve says, but then just wheels his arm around, silently telling Munson to hurry up if he's coming. Munson grins, wide and wolfish, hopping over the side with ease, landing on both feet with a resounding thud.

Then he holds out his arm in a sweeping after you gesture. Steve shakes his head and starts walking back to his car, hoping like hell he's not blocked in.

He is.

"Well, shit."

"I got this," Munson says, trying the doors of both cars boxing them in, nearly touching bumper. Billy and Tommy, of fucking course.

The Camaro is locked, but Tommy's isn't, and Munson slides into the driver's seat. Curious, Steve sinks into the passenger seat.

Munson pulls out a multi-tool of some kind, and before Steve has a chance to realize exactly what he's doing, Munson has the cables pulled out from under the dash.

"Holy shit," Steve says, leaning closer, "where'd you learn to do that?"

"Well, when the other dads were teaching their kids how to fish or play ball, my old man was teaching me how to hot-wire. Now, I swore I wouldn't wind up like he did, but they wanna be dickheads? We'll all be dickheads. What's a little grand theft auto between friends?"

Friends. They aren't friends, and Steve's aware of that fact, acutely. But he'd be lying if it didn't feel kinda nice to hear from someone, even as a lie.

So, Steve grins, "Not a thing. Friend."

Eddie backs up Tommy's car, then pulls the wires, killing the engine. Afterwards, he stuffs everything back up under the dash.

"Won't that-" Steve starts.

"Yup," Eddie answers, "gonna be deader than shit and he's gonna have no idea why."

"My man," Steve says, holding up his fist, and Eddie eyes him, but eventually bumps it back. "Thanks. This is hilarious, and he'll never suspect me. Like, I can't do that, and Tommy knows it."

"That's why it's good to have shady characters on your side, Harrington."

"Guess so," Steve agrees, and once they're back in Steve's car, Steve backs up, pulling away, easily.

Eddie digs his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, "Can I?"

"Only if you light me one," Steve answers, watching as Eddie slides the cigarette along his own bottom lip, into his mouth, puffing as he lights it, then reaches over to place it between Steve's parted lips.

Steve feels funny about it, in a way he doesn't exactly understand, just for a second, before shaking it off.

"So, why was King Steve bailing so early tonight?" Eddie asks.

"Eh, I don't know. Guess I realized I'd graduated and had no interest in seeing any of those assholes again."

"Well, I didn't graduate, but same."

"You didn't graduate?"

"Nah, maybe the third time will be the charm," Eddie answers. "Going from King Steve, to running as fast as you can. I'm proud of you, big boy."

It's so unexpected, Steve's sure he looks stupid, before he busts out laughing, "Well, that's a new one."

"Really? Are the rumors not true? I'll be so disappointed," Eddie asks, looking dramatic, feet now resting on Steve's dashboard. Steve doesn't have the energy to tell him no.

"What rumors?"

"About your big dick, man. Girls talk. I listen."

What? That's. What?

"Well, I gotta piss, so you can take a gander for yourself, I guess," Steve banters, parking and hopping out of the car along the dirt road.

He knows Eddie doesn't actually wanna look, but two can play this game.

So, Steve doesn't go to the trunk, to the cover of darkness. No, he heads right up front, illuminated by headlights, and takes his dick into his hand. Lays it on his palm, like he's presenting it.

He looks through the windshield, but can't really see Eddie's reaction. Bummer.

But, then Eddie's hand pops out of the passenger window, giving him a big thumbs up.

And Steve tosses his head back, laughing.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #graduation #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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minastras · 1 year

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dear stranger, do you remember me too? // sunghoon

When you were sixteen, you betrayed Park Sunghoon. Or he betrayed you. Whichever it was, you knew two things for sure: 1) kids were cruel, and 2) you would spend the rest of your life trying to make up your mind. Well, until you saw him again. It was a strange feeling, meeting him in the flesh even though his ghost had been haunting you for three years.

at a glance: childhood friends to strangers to lovers, reformed bad boy! sunghoon, university au, pure angst (i received High Level Clearance from @end-hyphen to put him through the wringer sorry), ft. hyung line

words: 12.3k

warnings: swearing, mild mentions of blood, sexual harassment, and fights (nothing serious), alcohol and cigarette use

——————————

For as long as you could remember, Park Sunghoon had been the centre of your solar system, the axis around which your universe revolved. You’d known him since the day you were born. You lived on the same street, four houses apart, and as the only two kids in the area you naturally bonded instantly with each other. He was your best friend, your confidant, your partner in crime.

As soon as you both were no taller than his coffee table, you spent nearly every day together at the playground behind your street, running through the neighbourhood blowing bubbles and chasing butterflies.

“Do you think we could both fit on the same swing?” You could still hear your voice, light and flowery back then, asking.

“Let’s find out,” his equally childish voice rang back, before he yanked you into his lap and struggled to get enough leverage with his feet to push you both off the ground.

That ended with you tumbling out of the swing and onto the tarmac just by the playground, scraping your knee. You both must’ve been only five years old then, but you didn’t cry, instead stubbornly getting to your feet and ignoring the blood trickling down your calf until you were back in the privacy of your living room.

He had carried you home on his back, even though you could walk just fine, and sat you down on the sofa while he cleaned your broken skin with a tissue.

“You can cry if you want,” he had said simply, in that innocent manner only kids have.

You were with him all the way through kindergarten to middle school to high school. Neither of you had many friends; you were both quiet and shy and somewhat rough around the edges. But that didn’t matter, because you had each other.

As you grew from toddlers to precocious children to teenagers, you continued spending nearly every day together. When you weren’t glued to each other’s sides in school, he was spending the night at your house after class, or you were playing video games in his room on weekends.

You always looked forward to Fridays. Sunghoon finished school an hour after you did and he would wait for you in an empty classroom. Afterwards you would take the bus into town and waste away the rest of the afternoon at the movies or in the arcade. You’d buy fried chicken for dinner and eat in your room, and he would spend the night. In the summertime, you’d climb up to the roof and stargaze and eventually fall asleep beside him, only to be rudely awakened by middle-of-the-night summer showers.

You had never known anything else but you and Sunghoon against the world.

——————————

When you were sixteen, things began to change.

“Do you want to do something special tonight?” Sunghoon asked. You were hanging out in your bedroom, him lying on your bed and you sitting on a bean bag on the floor, listening to music and studying.

“Like what?”

He grinned excitedly and handed you his phone. “Jeongmin invited me to join him and his friends. He asked me to bring you, too.”

You read the brief text exchange and frowned. “Jeongmin? As in, iljin and leader of that gang of dickheads, Jeongmin?”

“He’s actually nicer than he seems, you know,” Sunghoon told you. “He said he wants us all to hang out.”

You gave him his phone back, incredulous. “Hoon, the four of them beat up Ahn Jinho so badly last month that he’s still in hospital. You can’t seriously be considering taking him up on his offer. He’s going to drag us out into a park and kill us.”

“I think he just wants to show us how to have fun. You know, live a little. Why else would he invite two nerd loners like us?” he asked.

“Because we’re weak, lonely, and easy to take advantage of?” you pointed out. When he didn’t respond, you sighed. “Do you really want to go?”

“I do.”

“Fine.”

He shook his head rapidly. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“And let you get killed all by yourself? No thanks. We die together.”

——————————

You knew it was a mistake the second the conversation ended, but, as you said, you weren’t very well going to let Sunghoon go alone. And he was adamant, longing for friends, and desperate for an adventure. He clung to your arm as you walked from your house to the abandoned car park, thanking you repeatedly the entire journey.

Regret set in almost instantly. For you, anyway. Sunghoon seemed to be having a blast.

Jeongmin was already there waiting for you, with a case of cheap alcohol in his hand and his three lackeys in tow. You sat in the car park watching as Sunghoon drank and smoked with them, pretending to enjoy himself even though you knew he despised the taste of both of those things.

Jeongmin respected your assertion that you wouldn’t smoke (a shocker), but continued pushing you to drink the entire night. You fidgeted under his leering gaze, only growing more anxious as the minutes ticked by and he kept trying to ply you with alcohol, kept sitting closer and closer to you, kept returning his hand to your thigh no matter how many times you shifted away. Sunghoon didn’t stop him.

At the end of the night, you dragged Sunghoon back to your house and managed to get him up to your room without waking up your dad. He was wasted and reeked of smoke, incredibly lucky that his parents would just assume he’d spent the night at yours like always. You dumped him on your bed, aired out his clothes, and mixed honey and lemon juice into a glass of warm water for him to try and stop his cough.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, already changed into some of his sleeping clothes he kept in your room. His words were slurred and his cheeks were red, but he was coherent enough. “God, my throat feels like shit.”

“Because you smoked half a pack in one sitting like you were cosplaying as a forty-five year old weathered truck driver. Drink your honey lemon water,” you ordered, opening your bedroom windows so the cigarette smoke wouldn’t linger. “And no, I did not.”

He pouted but complied. “They’re not that bad.”

You took the empty glass from his hands and pulled the blankets up over him, touching his forehead. His skin was warm and flushed from the alcohol. “We’ll agree to disagree,” you said, heading downstairs to wash the glass.

“Lie down with me,” he whined the second you came back, somehow having managed to tuck himself into your bed like a sushi roll.

You switched off the lights and climbed into bed beside him, close but not touching. “I really don’t think you should be mixing with them, Hoon. They’re bad news,” you said quietly.

He’d fallen asleep before you ever got the chance to finish your sentence.

——————————

Over the next few weeks, Sunghoon started going out on more of these ‘adventures’. You stopped tagging along, but he still relied on you to shelter him in your room so his parents wouldn’t find out where he was disappearing to. And you continued to keep your phone right by your pillow while you slept so you could go bring him home if and when he called you.

He kept smoking around Jeongmin and his friends, even though he hated it and it made his throat itchy. You had started doing your own grocery shopping so your dad wouldn’t notice how fast the lemons and honey ran out nowadays.

When you and him were together, he acted exactly the same. He was still sweet, thoughtful, and just a little bit snarky. He still stuck to you in school, still waited for you every Friday afternoon, and still followed you to whichever new restaurant you wanted to try out on the weekends. He still lit up with a smile when you came by to his figure skating practice to cheer him on, much to the chagrin of his coach.

But whenever he went out to get wasted with Jeongmin and his gang and you had to go pick him up, you caught glimpses of the person he was becoming. He was picking fights and losing his temper at the smallest things, aggressive and hot-headed and dripping in machismo. No longer charmingly sarcastic with a gentle side, now he was just mean.

As soon as you two were back in your room, however, that all melted away. He would cuddle up to you, apologise, and thank you for always bringing him home no matter how ungodly the hour. If he woke up before you, he would tidy your room as a way to return the favour and leave a snack on your bedside table.

The snack was always accompanied by a yellow post-it note which he took from your desk (you didn’t even use those, but you kept them around specifically for him) with a dumb doodle or lots of hearts or both.

You weren’t happy about this development, but you didn’t do anything to stop it. It was his life, not yours. And you weren’t really in the business of speaking up about things that bothered you anyway. You kept your head down and your mouth shut, and stayed out of Jeongmin’s way.

Until one fateful Tuesday, about two months after the first invitation.

Sunghoon rarely talked to you about his newfound friends; he knew you didn’t approve of them and he didn’t want to upset you. This particular piece of news, though, was just too exciting to keep from you. After all, you were his best friend. He wanted you to be a part of his new life.

“Guess what the guys and I are doing on Sunday,” he said. You nodded for him to continue, somewhat distracted by the cinnamon rolls you were baking together in his kitchen, not entirely sure when ‘the guys’ had become a thing. “Jeongmin’s cousin is in town, and he has a fancy new car. We’re gonna hotwire it, drive it down to the cliff, and set it on fire.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your jaw dropping open. “What? Sunghoon, that’s too dangerous.”

“That’s why we’ll do it at the cliff. There’s nothing around there that could burn down,” he explained, like that made it okay.

If it weren’t for his completely serious tone and expression, you would have thought he was joking. You set down the mixing bowl you were holding. “No, you could get hurt,” you said, adding, “And what if you get caught? That’s grand larceny and arson.”

“The guy’s an asshole anyway,” he said nonchalantly, not listening to you.

“That doesn’t make it legal, Hoon. Or safe. I’m serious. You can’t do that.”

He folded his arms across his chest, scowling. “You’re just jealous,” he said.

“I don’t want you to go to jail,” you corrected.

“No, you’re jealous I finally have friends other than you. Like, cool, normal, friends,” he snapped, angrier than you’d ever seen him.

Never in your life had he raised his voice at you. You pretty much never fought, aside from short bouts of time when one of you was upset for one reason or another, but you always smoothed things over through calm, measured conversations. Not arguments like this.

You paused, stepping away from the counter, from him. “Is that what this is about? I’m not good enough for you?” you asked, your voice soft.

He had never once indicated he was unhappy with your friendship, with your relaxed hangouts in each other’s houses and comfortable outings to cinemas and restaurants and bookstores. But clearly he wanted something else: to be cool, normal, and have friends that weren’t shy recluses.

You trusted him. He was your whole world, and you’d always assumed you were his too.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, pulling back his words as you turned to leave. He followed you, pleading, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“I’m going home,” you stated firmly, rushing out of his house and slamming the front door shut behind you.

——————————

By Sunday evening, you cracked. You had been avoiding Sunghoon for the last two days, and both of your families had noticed. You couldn’t stop thinking about that night, if he would be caught, if he was going to be okay. There was no way you’d be able to talk to his parents without him finding out unless he was out at figure skating training, so you confided in your dad. And he called Sunghoon’s mom right then and there.

“You did the right thing, Y/N. I’m proud of you,” your dad said after he hung up, patting your head.

“It doesn’t feel like I did,” you mumbled, your insides twisting and twisting away.

“I know, honey.” Your dad rubbed your shoulders comfortingly, before offering, “Do you want to go out for ice cream? Take your mind off it? I can call off work.”

You clung to him for a few more seconds, then let go. “I just want to be alone for a while, if that’s okay,” you said, retreating to your bedroom while your dad left for his night shift at the plant.

You weren’t sure how long you lay in your bed staring at the ceiling in complete silence, numbed by guilt, before your bedroom door swung open and Sunghoon barged into your room. In your state, you hadn’t even heard him enter your house. You scrambled to your feet.

“Did you fucking snitch on me?”

He was in all black, with a graphic t-shirt over a long sleeved polo, ripped jeans, and boots. With his hair styled and jewellery on, he must’ve been ready to leave the house, because that was how he normally dressed to meet Jeongmin and his gang.

“Hoon-”

“I told you that in confidence,” he snapped, shutting your bedroom door. His eyes, narrowed in hatred, glowered at you. You walked over to him and reached for his hand, but he slapped you away, recoiling at your touch like you were a hot stove. “How could you do this to me?”

“I was worried about you,” you said, your tone begging, mollifying. You rarely saw him this angry, and never had that anger been directed at you.

“Bullshit. My parents just screamed at me for two hours. Jeongmin’s gonna be pissed at me,” he fumed. “You weren’t fucking worried about me. You didn’t want me to be doing things without you.”

You dug your nails into your palms, trying to stop yourself from crying. It seemed to work, for a while, anyway. “Is that how you see me? As a needy pest who won’t let you go?” you asked, each word a chore to get out, your eyes already stinging. Not from his words, but from the sheer contempt in his expression.

Had he really spent the last sixteen years so desperate to get rid of you, like you were a persistent barnacle on a ship that refused to leave? Did he hate you that much? How had you never known?

He took a step towards you. His eyes were cold, his jaw was clenched, and you couldn’t even recognise him. You stepped back cautiously.

“Oh, like you’re some perfect angel,” he spat through gritted teeth.

“I’m not. I just don’t want you to throw away your future. I-”

“You know what your problem is?” he shouted, cutting you off. He took yet another step forward, and you again stepped back. The backs of your knees hit your bed frame. “You’re a hypocrite. You hold everyone to such a high moral standard that no one is ever good enough for you. Not me, and not yourself. That’s why you fucking hate yourself so much.”

You couldn’t speak. Your heart was firmly lodged in your throat. For several agonising seconds, the only things you could hear were his furious breathing and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“I think you should go home,” you finally said after a long pause. Your voice was shaking as you held back tears. “We can talk about this when you’ve calmed down-”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!”

Sunghoon raised his hand to push back his fringe, but you didn’t know that. Because when his hand came up, you flinched.

He lowered his hand immediately, only then noticing that he’d backed you into a corner. Instead of shock or anger or hurt, there was nothing but pure, unadulterated fear in your eyes.

“Did you think I was going to hit you?” he whispered, stepping back.

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned away, walking to your open window and resting your hands on the windowsill. “Please leave,” you said simply, fighting to keep your voice stable as tears began to roll down your face, not looking at him.

He stood and waited for a minute, watching you. You could feel his gaze. But when you refused to turn back around, he sighed and left. You heard your bedroom door close, and then your front door a few seconds later, and then it was so, so quiet.

——————————

You and Sunghoon avoided each other like the plague after that fight, although that torture hadn’t lasted long. Within two weeks, he’d withdrawn from school and vanished. His parents told you he’d gone to a boarding school in a different town, but they didn’t say where or why.

You never saw him again.

Being in your hometown for those last two years of high school was difficult for you. Having to live just down the road from his family home, constantly surrounded by all of your old haunts, made it hard for you to get him out of your head.

After high school you’d gone to a small university to do your first year with a conditional offer from your dream school in your back pocket. You needed time to save up money, and you were hoping to secure a scholarship with your first year grades.

You’d been lucky enough to make a new friend, Heeseung. Like you, he was only in that university temporarily to work his way into a scholarship. Your relationship was initially one of convenience and comfort — neither of you were particularly keen on mixing with the other students you never planned to see again after your first year — but you quickly became genuine friends.

You kept each other motivated, and both managed to secure transfers before your second year started. In fact, you’d done so well that your then-university had begged you to stay, offering you scholarship after scholarship and full fee remissions. But you both turned them down. You had loftier ambitions.

Once you moved away to university, things got better. Of course, the vestiges remained. You still had Sunghoon’s Spotify playlists in your account, your shared arcade membership card in your wallet, and some of his socks mixed in with your own. Before you fought he’d borrowed your favourite pair of red shrimp socks, and now you were never going to get them back.

But you didn’t think about him nearly as often as you used to. He was no longer a ghost living in your head, but a will-o’-the-wisp that occasionally caught your eye when you saw something that reminded you of him.

And now you and Heeseung were standing in the foyer of your new dorm with nothing from your past but a small suitcase each, in the university you’d been chasing your entire lives, ready to start your second year.

“We made it,” Heeseung whispered to you, still not fully comprehending it all. You were really here.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my life,” you whispered back.

“Me too. If we weren’t roommates I’d be shitting bricks by now.”

The school had been gracious enough to allow you and Heeseung to live together in a small apartment within the music students’ dorm, since you were pretty sure at least one of you would have gone bonkers if you were separated. You would be sharing the floor with another similar apartment housing three students who would meet you in the foyer to help you move in.

Right on time, one of them (you presumed) came bounding down the stairs excitedly. He broke into a broad smile the second he saw your suitcases, his originally stern-looking features softening instantly as he did.

“Are you the transfers? Nice to meet you! I’m Jay. We spoke on the phone.”

You spoke up first when it became clear Heeseung was far too anxious to talk. “Hi! I’m Y/N, and this is Heeseung. Nice to meet you too.”

“Welcome aboard,” Jay said, easily picking up your suitcase before you could object. Heeseung fumbled for his own. “My roommates are just finishing getting your apartment ready. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Shouldn’t that be the school’s job?” you asked, following him up the stairs.

“This place can be a bit of a circus, believe it or not,” Jay remarked, making you and Heeseung exchange glances. When you reached the fifth floor, not a single hair on his head was out of place even though your bag was heavy as fuck.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No problem. That’s us over there,” he said, pointing to the first door on the level, “and this is you guys.”

The apartment was modestly-sized and simple, but clean and otherwise perfect. Jay introduced you to his first roommate Jake, who was sitting at the kitchen counter when you arrived.

“Thanks for setting all of this up for us. It must’ve been a lot of work,” Heeseung said, finally speaking after you elbowed him in the side (be normal, man). “You’ve been so helpful.”

“It’s nothing. Jay and I both transferred here last semester too, so we know how hard it can be,” Jake said kindly, waving away your gratitude. “Our other roommate did the same for us back then.”

“Speaking of which, Hoon! Come out here and meet the new students!” Jay called.

A third voice came floating from down the corridor. “Coming!”

When the aforementioned roommate emerged from the corridor, your heart stopped. Your blood turned to lead in your veins. Your ears began ringing, the sound so loud it washed away almost everything else.

You could barely hear Jake as he said, “Hoon, these are our new neighbours, Heeseung and Y/N. Guys, this is-”

“Sunghoon,” you finished. His name came out of your mouth, but it didn’t sound like your voice. Your hands were numb.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon said, at the exact same time.

Although he was taller now, with a broader frame, a sharper jaw, and a deeper voice, it was still him. He was frozen in shock, looking right at you, unblinking. He had on a white t-shirt that read ‘rise above’ that he’d had since the first year of high school — you bought it for him for his fifteenth birthday. It had been massively oversized on his thin body back then, but now he filled it out nicely.

Right there, as you stood in the kitchen of your new apartment, all the guilt and heartbreak and mourning that you thought you had left behind in the child that died three years ago came rushing back to you, squeezing the air from your lungs.

And in that moment you were reminded yet again of the lesson you had spent the last three years of your life learning day after day after day: movies lied.

The real heartbreak was never the big fight. It was every time after when the other person crossed your mind in idle thoughts or memories, every time you saw or heard something that reminded you of them, every time you pulled up their contact on your phone and read the distant timestamp of your final conversation.

It was every belonging of theirs they left behind in your childhood bedroom, and everything you owned that had been a gift from them. It was every food you ever ate together and every song you ever listened to together and every place you ever went to together.

It was every time they reached out from beyond the grave and touched some part of your life and you had to lose them all over again.

You looked at him, and he looked at you. His eyes hadn’t changed at all. You were sixteen once more: standing in his kitchen making cinnamon rolls, locking your bedroom door behind him after the last time you spoke because you were scared he would return, desperately running away from him in the school halls.

He glanced down at your hands, your fingers laced together to hide the fact that they were shaking. You had a habit of doing that when you were nervous. Around your left wrist was a silver bracelet, one that he’d gotten you on a whim six years ago. You still had it. And you still wore it. And it was you.

Jay smiled cheerily, oblivious. “Do you guys know each other?”

——————————

Your first week of your second year was amazing. You were finally at your dream university in your dream major, with a full-ride scholarship under your belt and your best friend right by your side. It was everything you and Heeseung had worked so hard for.

The building you lived in was a dorm just for music scholars, a small, close-knit group of under thirty students. Most of them, like Jay and Jake, also bled money.

But your experience was somewhat soured by one thing: Park Sunghoon. He was everywhere.

Of course, that was to be expected. It was a small cohort, the only new friends you’d made so far were his roommates, and you were literally neighbours.

After the day you’d moved in, neither of you had spoken a word to each other. You ran into him constantly, and you were always going to classes and grabbing lunch together, but you’d never talked to him directly. He was just always there.

On Thursday, as the five of you left a lecture together, Sunghoon politely excused himself. “I won’t join you guys for lunch today. I need to pick up something from the shops.”

So you found yourself sitting in the food court with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. When the conversation naturally fizzled out, it was only quiet for a few seconds before Jay clapped his hands together and asked, “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the deal with you and Sunghoon?”

You looked at Heeseung for guidance. On that first night, you’d already told him everything. He shrugged.

“Uh- well. We grew up together, and when we were sixteen we had a falling out,” you answered cautiously.

“Then you lost touch?” Jake frowned.

“You could say that,” you said, reaching for Heeseung’s hand under the table and adding, “I think Sunghoon should probably be the one to tell you the rest, though. When he’s ready.”

——————————

At Heeseung’s insistence (listen, you’re clearly still hurting over this, and it would be good for you to talk to him, at least), you bullied yourself into texting Sunghoon at the end of your first week. With trembling hands, you asked him if he would meet you in the botanical gardens on Sunday. He replied almost instantly: what time?

Waiting for him on a park bench, chronically early as you always were, you were bouncing your leg so much that the entire bench was shaking. The last time you’d spoken to him was over three years ago, when you’d pleaded with him to get out of your room.

You had drawn up an agreement with Heeseung that morning: if things went south, you would send him an S.O.S. message so he could come by and pretend to whisk you away to tend to an Urgent Apartment Matter. You even programmed your phone to text him automatically if you pressed your power button five times in a row. He called you ‘insufferably paranoid’, which you took as a compliment.

Sunghoon was a minute late, and, by the looks of it, just as anxious as you were.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

He sat down next to you, a polite distance away. It was almost like how you used to sit in your neighbourhood park late at night after you’d aged out of the playground, eating convenience store ramen together until a concerned stranger or annoyed police officer told you to go home.

You both looked around for a while before you couldn’t take it anymore and bit the bullet. “How have you been?” you asked, stilted.

“Good. I’ve been good.” He cleared his throat and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans, nodding at nothing. “What about you?”

“Good.” You paused too, searching your brain for something to say.

“I went to military school,” he blurted out, knowing you were too polite to ask him directly. “Um- for the last two years of high school. That’s why I disappeared.”

Military school? So the rumours floating around the town had been right.

“Madam Choi kept asking me about you,” you told him after a while. Madam Choi was the sweet, grandmotherly owner of the convenience store on the corner of your street who always asked how you were doing and chastised you for eating too many snacks even though your unhealthy diets kept her shop afloat. It was the only topic you could think of that wasn’t too painful to bring up.

Sunghoon laughed at that, a sound you hadn’t heard for years. He loosened up, and you did too. Your awkwardness gradually began melting away as he told you about Jay and Jake, about his time at military school, and about all the cool spots in the city you should check out. You told him about Heeseung, your previous university, and how you didn’t know how to navigate your new university’s portal because it was designed to frustrate.

Conspicuously, neither of you brought up the past. Reminiscing was off the table, an arrangement implicitly reached between you two at some point during the conversation. Even when you finally worked up the courage to ask what you’d been wanting to ask for the last three years, you still couldn’t bring yourself anywhere close to acknowledging what happened.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate for even a second, which made you smile. “No.”

As he continued talking, however, it became clear that he was considering every word he said before he said it. He was careful, deliberate, holding back.

“I’ve grown up since then,” he said slowly. “I haven’t been mad for a long time. Actually, I wanted to thank you for doing what you did. I could have been sitting in jail by now.” He clasped his hands together and turned to you. “Are you still mad at me?”

You were equally as assured and quick with your own response. “No. I was never mad at you.”

“You should’ve been,” he joked. “I caused you so much trouble, always waking you up in the middle of the night and crashing in your room.”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m happy things worked out for you, Hoon. And that you got into university despite everything that happened,” you said.

“Thanks,” he smiled. Although the rest of him looked older and more mature, his smile remained the same.

“If I’d done those things I never would’ve gotten a second chance,” you mused, more to yourself than to him, but he heard it anyway.

Instantly, his mood soured.

“Okay, so did you rat on me to protect me and my future? Or because you were jealous? Because that sounds like jealousy,” he snapped.

Shit. You reached for your phone and pressed the home button five times. But he wasn’t wrong.

Yes, you had been worried about him as you’d said back then, but you were also jealous. Not of his new friends, but of his life. His parents were rich, and he had two of them. If he had gone out that night and been caught, there was a non-zero chance that he could have gotten off with a slap on the wrist.

His parents had the money to ship him off to a private military school for two whole years at the drop of a hat, and he’d been able to come straight to your dream university. If you had joined him and Jeongmin that night, you would’ve been locked up without question.

“You ruined my life,” Sunghoon hissed, his eyes now dark and his body tense. “Do you know that?”

“You ruined your own life when you were planning to commit arson and didn’t listen to me when I told you to stop,” you countered.

He set his jaw and turned away with a scoff. “I can’t believe you.”

In the distance, you saw Heeseung jogging over to you. He must’ve been hiding in another part of the park, waiting. You weren’t the only insufferably paranoid one, it seemed.

“This isn’t how I wanted today to go, Hoon,” you sighed.

“Don’t call me that,” he spat, standing up.

“Y/N!” Heeseung shouted as he reached the bench. His face fell the moment he saw the look in your eyes. “There is an Urgent Apartment Matter. We must tend to it right away,” he stuttered, grabbing your hand and yanking you to your feet before Sunghoon even had the time to blink.

The two of you ran.

——————————

You and Sunghoon had swiftly gone right back to ignoring each other, which was pretty impressive considering you were almost always together. Jay and Jake seemed annoyingly hell-bent on taking you and Heeseung under their wing — as fellow transfers themselves, they wanted to help you acclimatise — and Sunghoon didn’t have any other friends. So he was constantly with you in classes, at parties, or hanging out in your goddamn apartment.

He spent more time staring at you than he would have liked to admit. In between gaps in conversations, or when you were distracted by one of Jay’s dissertation-length speeches about some inane topic or stupid fact, he got the chance to really look at you for the first time in years. Every time he did he felt a strange ache in his chest. You were like an actor he already knew playing a character he’d never seen before.

“Dude, why would you even say that? You called them a hypocrite?” Jake chastised, when Sunghoon finally revealed the details behind your falling out in high school a few days after Sunday.

“I just can’t imagine you as that kind of guy,” Jay said, stunned. He was still trying to picture Park Sunghoon, the would-be arsonist.

Often, Sunghoon found himself staring not when Jay was rambling or Jake was telling you a joke, but specifically when you were with Heeseung. There was something about the way you two interacted that made his heart sting. You were comfortable with him, and he with you.

You knew he liked to sit on the inside of restaurant booths facing the door, and he knew your Subway order by heart. You kept track of the stock of his favourite drinks in your fridge, and he always had a spare charger in his bag for all the times you forgot to bring your own. You were so in tune with each other that you would tell when the other wanted to go home without needing to ask and built effortlessly on each other’s jokes. You even kind of talked the same.

“And then you said it again? Are you serious?” Jay groaned in frustration when he heard the park story. Everyone had noticed the considerable shift in mood between you and Sunghoon since Sunday, but no one had dared to mention it.

“They’re trying so hard with you, man. Why would you do that?” Jake sighed.

Sunghoon pulled hard at his hair, equally frustrated, and flopped face down on the sofa. “I don’t know! It just came out.”

There was a substantial part of him that kmew it was because he was scared he hadn’t changed. That he was still the kind of person who called their best friend a hypocrite and accused them of being jealous when they tried to protect him. That you could see that, and that Jay and Jake would realise it soon too.

The other day at the juice bar Heeseung bought you a warm honey lemon tea. When he ordered it, you and Sunghoon immediately looked at each other before turning away. Windows open to air out the stench of cigarette smoke. Your secret stash of lemons and honey. Yellow post-it notes on your bedside table. All the hours you spent taking care of him, even as he spiralled out of control.

You hadn’t even asked for it; Heeseung somehow knew you had a sore throat that day without you telling him. Apparently he could hear it in your voice, which was (according to him) slightly scratchy and hoarse. Sunghoon couldn’t hear a thing, though. You sounded the exact same to him.

It was clear that Heeseung was familiar with the person you were now, that he knew you, and he knew how to be your best friend. That was a skill that Sunghoon had lost years ago, and clearly he didn’t quite know you anymore.

At the park you hadn’t cried once, although he was sure the sixteen-year-old you would have. Perhaps you just cried less now. Perhaps you’d given up on him and no longer expected anything else from him but to be disappointed.

“You need to apologise to them,” Jake scolded.

“They won’t forgive me,” Sunghoon mumbled into the sofa fabric.

Jay threw a pillow at him. “No offence, Hoon, but from what you’ve told us I think you’re a pretty shit judge of character.”

——————————

You had the apartment to yourself that Thursday night because Heeseung had rented a studio to practise after-hours and wouldn’t be back till sunrise. Someone knocked on your door. When you didn’t answer it immediately, a painfully familiar voice rang out from the other side.

“It’s me.”

Dread was not an emotion you’d ever associated with Sunghoon, but it was all you felt when you opened the door for him. When you were kids he never waited for you to do so; he always just let himself in. You sat down at the kitchen counter together, side by side.

“Since when do you watch Queer Eye?” he asked, noticing your laptop screen.

“Heeseung introduced me to it,” you said, pushing a glass of water across the counter to him. His face darkened at the name, but you chose to ignore it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Sunghoon bit his lip. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he started, wooden. While he’d seemed guarded and on edge on Sunday, now he seemed scared. “For what I said to you. And for- for everything.”

You sat rigidly on the bar stool, self-conscious, not knowing what to say.

“I had a lot of time to think over the last three years, and I realised I was insecure. I was so desperate to be seen as ‘cool’ and Jeongmin knew that. You were right; he was preying on me because he could tell how much I wanted to be a part of his world. You saw right through me because you knew- you know me better than anyone. So I lashed out at you.

“I tried so hard to put that part of my life behind me — I never told Jay or Jake about it, even — and when you came back I panicked. It was a reminder of all the fucked up things I did and the person I used to be. I didn’t want to have to deal with it, and I took it out on you again.

“I’m sorry. And thank you. For always being there for me to pick up the pieces. I never deserved that sort of kindness.”

He watched you nervously, waiting for a response. You reached for the rubber band around your wrist and snapped it. It didn’t hurt, but it helped to distract you. He glanced down at your hand, recognising another of your old habits.

“Stop doing that,” he chided, his eyes watering. At that moment, he sounded just like he used to when you were younger. You remembered him saying those exact words in that exact tone. Of all the things he had said, that was what made you want to cry.

“I missed you so much,” you finally admitted after a long pause, inhaling shakily. “I felt like I ruined our friendship. I never stopped wondering if I made the right decision, I- I thought I’d lost you forever.”

He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. His hugs were just comforting as they had been when you were growing up. He was much stronger than you remembered, although perhaps you should have expected that. He’d changed his cologne since.

“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” he told you, stroking your hair gently. When you separated his eyes were shining with tears. He laughed, sniffling, holding your face in his hands.

“Can we be friends again?” you whispered.

“I’d like that,” he said, letting you go and hesitating for a few seconds before he next spoke. “Do you know what motivated me to change when I was in military school?”

“What?” You hugged him one last time before unconsciously reaching for your rubber band. Catching this, he raised an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at your wrist. You stopped, feeling scolded.

“The last time we talked back in high school, you thought I was going to hit you,” he began carefully. He took a deep breath, suddenly unable to look you in the eye now. “Seeing how scared you were, the fear on your face, I- I never wanted to make anyone feel like that again. Especially not you. I’m sorry.”

He’d started crying. He hardly ever cried when you were kids. You wiped away his tears with your shirt sleeve.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” he begged, clutching onto you with a vice grip. Between you and him he had always been the calm one, but now he was shaking and you could feel it.

You squeezed his hand. “I won’t.”

——————————

Something in you was repaired that day.

You were telling the truth when you said you had never stopped feeling guilty about what you did. Not being able to speak to Sunghoon after, not even knowing where he was or what he was doing, it had wrecked you.

For years you’d lived with the thought that the only person you’d ever trusted had always secretly resented you. Maybe everyone did — maybe you were a pest, a hypocrite, a loser. It made it hard for you to form new connections. Heeseung had chipped away at your defences for months before you felt safe enough to call him your friend.

But now you were sitting on the floor of Sunghoon’s living room, sharing a vodka Sprite with Heeseung while you watched the others play Mario Kart, and everything was fine.

You hadn’t spent too much time with Sunghoon alone, although the five of you were constantly together. Jake had even joked about blocking off the fifth floor from the other scholars and just leaving both of your front doors open to form one big apartment for the five of you. Functionally, it wouldn’t be that different from how you were already living.

“I’m hungry,” Heeseung piped up, pouting and nudging you. “Go buy me some chips?”

“Why can’t you go?” you asked.

“My head hurts,” he whined. If he was dehydrated, the smallest drop of alcohol could give him splitting headaches. “Don’t kick a man while he’s down.”

Before you could retort, Sunghoon handed him his Switch controller. “Hee, you play. I’ll go with them,” he offered.

“Thanks, man. Use my rewards card,” Heeseung said, handing you his wallet instead of just taking the rewards card out and passing that to you.

You used to joke that you could so easily max out all of his credit cards if you wanted to, but he swiftly pointed out that you also had a habit of giving him your entire wallet when he asked to borrow money or your transport card.

“I still can’t believe we've been in this city for just over a month and you already have six rewards cards,” you laughed, putting on your shoes.

As you and Sunghoon were walking out the door, Heeseung was still shouting, “Think of the points, dude! The points!”

The convenience store was just across the road from your dorm building, which was, as its name suggested, pretty convenient. Not as good for your heart health and nutrition, but whatever. It was drizzling slightly, but not enough for either of you to have bothered with an umbrella.

“Heeseung is so obsessed with collecting rewards points,” you joked, fiddling with his rewards card.

Sunghoon chuckled. “Is he always like that?”

You nodded. “Since I met him. You like him, though, right?”

“Yeah, I do. He’s fun,” he said. He wasn’t lying; he did actually like Heeseung. But he would be lying if he said your closeness to him didn’t bother him at all. Sunghoon didn’t want to think too much about the possible implications of his jealousy.

“I’m glad. I really like Jay and Jake, too,” you told him, pushing open the convenience store door. “I’ll go get Deungie’s chips, because he likes some weird obscure flavours.”

“I’ll get the normal stuff for everyone else,” Sunghoon said, asking, “the usual for you, yeah?”

You thought of the convenience store in your hometown, of Madam Choi, of your regular weekend sleepovers back in school. Rehearsed and practised, you two were in and out of the store in under two minutes. What did that say about either of you, that you were so skilled at buying snacks that you worked together like a well-oiled machine?

The drizzle was marginally heavier when you left. It was a short walk, but Sunghoon took off his white baseball cap and fixed it atop your head anyway.

“Thanks, Hoon,” you smiled. You never bothered fighting him when he did things like that for you; you hadn’t as a kid and you still didn’t now. He wouldn’t do it unless he wanted to, and he wasn’t the type to accept your refusals of help.

But it felt different years later, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, amused.

You quickly averted your gaze, not having noticed you’d been looking at him. “It’s just weird to have you back,” you said.

You’d had this conversation with him at least a dozen times over the last month. It still hadn’t quite sunk in yet that he was back in your life and you were back in his. That you hadn’t destroyed the life of your best friend by being a hypocrite.

Since then, you’d spent a lot of time thinking about the person you used to be: full of self-loathing and insecurity and fear that you would eventually ruin every relationship you had. Heeseung had been slightly hurt that you hadn’t told him about Sunghoon when it all happened. You admitted to him that you were scared he would think of you as a bad person.

Sunghoon smiled. “Is it a good weird or a bad weird?”

“It’s a good weird. I missed this,” you answered, holding up the bag of snacks in your hand. As was your usual routine, you carried the snacks and he carried the drinks, having immediately fallen into step.

He playfully bumped into you as you walked, though not nearly hard enough to knock you off balance. “I missed you,” he said, before reaching for his keys.

The conversation was the same, but the butterflies in your stomach were definitely a new development.

——————————

Since you reconnected, Sunghoon hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

“Dude, are you jealous of Heeseung?” Jay asked him one night, out of the blue, after you and Heeseung left their apartment to head back to your own. Well, it wasn’t entirely out of the blue; even he couldn’t deny that.

“Can’t I be jealous of my ex-best friend’s new best friend?” Sunghoon replied, already defensive.

“That’s not why you’re jealous, though, is it?” Jay pressed. “You’re posturing around him and you can’t stop looking at Y/N.”

“Shut up.” He was right, and deep down Sunghoon knew it.

He was never going to be your best friend again, and he wasn’t trying to be. Neither of you were the same people you had been three years ago, and you were different enough that if you met now, you probably wouldn’t have been close. You both had new friends, people who suited your current selves better.

He wanted to be something else.

“You need to tone down the staring, man. It’s getting a little too obvious,” Jake said. “Even Heeseung mentioned it to me the other day.”

Sunghoon swore under his breath. “He did?” Heeseung, of all people, noticing — had he mentioned it to you?

“For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure they’re just friends,” Jay added, trying to be comforting.

Sunghoon sighed and finished his drink. It was a gin and tonic which he’d made so strong that it was basically straight gin with a drizzle of tonic water. He winced.

“I know, but they do everything together,” he mumbled, just barely self-aware enough to realise he was whining. “That used to be me.”

“They’re happy, you’re happy, and you guys are friends again. Isn't that what you wanted? Why focus on the past when you could be focusing on right now?” Jake asked.

“Because they trusted me for sixteen years and I basically told them I’d secretly hated them the whole time,” Sunghoon said, his voice rising. “I ruined them, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Jay scowled and crossed his arms, kicking Sunghoon’s foot with his own. “You didn’t ruin anyone. They’re fine. You’re not the only thing that’s ever happened to them, and if you keep thinking like that you’ll never fully repair your relationship.”

Sunghoon stared at his empty glass. He needed another drink.

——————————

“It’s been two months since we moved here,” Heeseung told you randomly one day. You were at a ramen bar for dinner with him and Sunghoon to celebrate getting through the first half of the semester. Also, you were all out of food at home and neither of you were in the mood to cook.

“Has it?” You checked the date on your phone. Sure enough, he was right. You hadn’t even realised.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Sunghoon said. You’d started looking at Sunghoon differently.

Firstly, he looked different. He towered over his former self, his shoulders were much wider than you recalled, and he’d lost some fat on his face, making his cheeks and jaw more angular. He wore his black hair longer than he used to and he didn’t have nearly as many dark colours in his wardrobe.

He’d always been good-looking, but you had never really recognised that before. Now, though, it was always on your mind. Now, when he smiled at you or fixed your hair after he put his cap on your head or leaned over you to plug in his laptop in lecture theatres, you got nervous.

His gestures had always made you feel warm and comfortable, but now they were also starting to make you feel shy. You’d never been particularly touchy with him even as kids — you shared beds with a wall of pillows in between you two — but now you couldn’t even bear the thought of holding onto his sleeve in a crowd so you wouldn’t get separated.

“Oi.” Heeseung kicked you hard under the table and pointed at your nearly empty bowl. “Earth to Y/N. Are you done?”

They were both staring at you. How long had you been zoning out?

“What? Yeah, I’m done. Did you say something?” you asked.

Heeseung laughed and pressed his index finger to the top of your head, pretending to push you down like a button, which he always did when he was making fun of you. He definitely knew what you’d been lost in thought about (do you know how much Sunghoon stares at you nowadays? I think he hates me).

“Heeseung said he’s meeting Jay and Jake at the studio,” Sunghoon filled you in, much more helpful. “So we can go home, or if you want we can walk around some more.” He sounded expectant, like he was hoping you’d agree to the latter. You did.

——————————

Once you saw Heeseung off at the bus stop, Sunghoon brought you to a run-down building four streets away from the ramen bar. In the hip, fashionable district of the city, amidst the trendy shops and cafés, the mould and peeling paint and water damage of the building made it stick out like a blister.

You looked at the building, and then at him, and then back at the building. “Is this an assassination attempt?” you asked.

“Trust me,” he said, pushing the rusty steel door open with his foot.

“That’s not an answer. And your refusal to touch the door with your hands doesn’t exactly inspire trust,” you laughed, but you followed him with no hesitation.

It felt almost like when you used to go exploring the outskirts of your hometown by yourselves, far too late at night for kids your age. But this time, you didn’t have any snacks with you, nor games to keep yourselves occupied.

Sunghoon made a face at you and ushered you inside. “Shut up. I’m the city native here.”

“You’ve only been here a year longer than me,” you pointed out, looking around. The building wasn’t so much a building as it was a stairwell. Stuffy, dark, and dingy, it made you feel suffocated. “I’m going to die here,” you declared, sighing in resignation.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh my god. It’s not even that bad.”

As if on cue, the door slammed shut behind you, the sound echoing ominously in the tight space. What little light that had been coming in from the street lamps outside disappeared, except for a sliver of amber forcing its way through a gap in the door frame. He cursed under his breath.

“Hoon,” you called, desperately trying to spot him in the darkness, the rising panic clear in your words. “I swear, if I die tonight I’ll never stop haunting you.”

His reply came immediately, calm and measured, reassuring. “I’m right here. Give me your hand.”

You turned around at the sound of his voice and reached out blindly in front of you, hitting his shoulder. He found your hand and took it in his, the feeling of his palm against yours somehow soothing and stressful at the same time.

“You’re still scared of the dark?” he asked, joking, trying to ease your fear.

He used to scold you all the time for always sleeping with your light on, but no matter how many articles he sent you about why sleeping in the dark was important for healthy melatonin production, you never listened. Whenever he slept over in your room, he used an eye mask.

“Shut up, please.” Your voice was quiet and unconvincing; actually, you wanted nothing more than for him to keep talking. You couldn’t see anything, and all you had to ground you was his voice and his hand in yours.

He squeezed your hand, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it would be this dark. It’s worth it, I promise.”

He led you up three flights of stairs by the hand and walked face first into what you assumed to be a locked door. “Ow. Motherfucker.”

You cackled at that.

The room (if you could call it that, since it was barely bigger than a cupboard) was lit with a single filament light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Aside from a couple of cardboard boxes, some pillows, and a bean bag, it was empty.

“That’s your old bean bag. The one you had in your room,” you said, recognising the green fabric immediately. You tensed when he brushed past you to shut the door to the room (supply cupboard?), but you tried your best to ignore it.

“Yeah, I brought it with me. I get homesick sometimes, so it helps,” he told you, sitting down on the small pile of pillows. You took the bean bag.

“It smells worse than I remembered,” you said, patting it. He pushed you in retaliation, laughing at you when you lost your balance.

“I have snacks and drinks in this box, and comics and books in that one,” he explained. “I wanted to get a mini-fridge in here but there isn’t an outlet.”

This was exactly how you used to spend your weekends when you didn’t have to study: snacks, drinks, and reading. Except now he handed you a can of hard seltzer instead of his yoghurt drinks of yore.

“Is this legal? Does the building owner know you’re here?” you asked, somewhat sceptical. But you opened the can anyway and took a sip. It was warm, but not unpleasant.

“Of course. I’m a law abiding citizen.”

“You just jaywalked about ten minutes ago.”

“I’m generally a law abiding citizen.” He dug around in the box some more and produced a can of sangria (you despised sangria), gesturing to the room. “What do you think? Pretty cool, right?”

“Very,” you nodded, making yourself comfortable in the bean bag. You felt like you were in high school again, although you didn’t recall your spine hurting nearly as much then. Perhaps you were getting old. You needed proper back support now.

He kicked off his shoes. “Fuck off,” he laughed.

“I wasn’t being sarcastic!” you yelled, before you noticed- “My red shrimp socks!”

“Oh, right.” He glanced down at his feet and started casually taking the socks off. “Do you want them back?”

You gagged. “Not right now, dumbo!”

He used to be able to detect your sarcasm perfectly, always reading your tone with no margin of error, although it was probably unfair to expect him to still be able to after so many years.

“Come home with me,” Sunghoon said suddenly, still looking at his (your) socks. You looked at him, puzzled. “After the semester ends. We should go visit our families,” he added.

You thought for a minute and agreed. “I think my dad misses you.”

“My parents miss you too.” He leant back against the wall behind him, closed his eyes, and rested his head on your shoulder, declaring, “I’m tired.”

The room was so dark and small and quiet. His black hair tickled your neck, even though you could tell he was trying not to move around too much. You prayed he couldn’t hear how fast your heart rate had become. He’d always been a sleepy drinker, and you’d all been drinking pretty liberally during dinner earlier.

You tried to relax, as much as you could with his body pressed against yours, and closed your eyes too. So you didn’t see him reach for your hand until you felt his touch directly. He took your hand and pulled it into his lap, interlocking his fingers with yours and fiddling with your silver bracelet. You froze, your breathing shallow and your muscles tense.

“This is from that old charity shop behind the fruit store,” he mumbled, running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. You could feel the vibrations of his throat against your shoulder as he spoke. “I bought it for you.”

“Hoon,” you said softly, your eyes now wide open. He hummed in response, still playing with your hand. “What are you doing?”

His reply was a non-answer. “I miss home.”

Tentatively, you lifted your hand to his head, stroking his hair in what you hoped would be a comforting gesture. He stayed quiet. His closeness was simultaneously the most nerve-wracking and most comforting thing. In all your life, you couldn’t ever recall sitting like this with him.

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk?” you asked, pulling your hand away, worried now.

He grabbed it and returned it to his hair, moving even closer to you. “That feels nice,” he sighed. His breath was warm against your neck, while the tip of his nose was cold. It made you shiver. “I’m fine. I just haven’t been home in a while.”

You felt terrible for never really having thought about what his two years in military school, being ripped away from his family at such short notice, must’ve been like. As far as you were aware he didn’t get to visit his family until he graduated, and you only knew that because you spent your own high school graduation period locked up in your house to avoid running into him.

Against your best efforts, the guilt came rushing back. You closed your eyes again and continued playing with Sunghoon’s hair, just how he liked it.

——————————

Two weeks later, you still didn’t know what to make of that night. You told Heeseung everything and asked him if you were going insane.

“Do you like him?” Heeseung asked as you two got ready to leave the house. You were going out to get drinks with the others.

“I don’t know,” you groaned, yanking the windows shut much harder than you had intended. He jumped at the sound, and you winced. “Sorry. I hate this, man.”

“Do you want my opinion?” he asked.

“It depends on what it is.”

He snorted. “I think you do like him and you don’t want to admit it. Why is that?”

You rushed to put on your shoes as he waited for you. “I just- what if this fucks up our friendship a second time? There’s too much history between us, right?”

“Well, your heart doesn’t seem to think so,” he said, opening the front door. The neighbouring front door opened too, at the exact same time, and out stepped Sunghoon. He broke into a wide smile the second he saw you.

Heeseung lowered his head and said quietly, “Clearly, he doesn’t think so, either.”

——————————

You were far too nervous to drink even after the forty minute journey to the bar. Heeseung’s words hadn’t left your head for even a second, and he could definitely tell from the way he kept grinning at you.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Heeseung asked for the third time, offering you his glass. You had the same taste in drinks, so you usually shared.

“I don’t feel like drinking tonight,” you said, again for the third time.

“Guess who else isn’t drinking tonight,” he teased, way too loud, nodding to Sunghoon and his glass of water. That didn’t even make sense.

“Shut up,” you hissed. Heeseung giggled, already tipsy, and leaned on you. Sunghoon caught your eye from across the table and smiled. If he’d heard what the other man said, he showed no indication of it. You smiled back.

Jake returned to the table, tapping Heeseung on the shoulder.

“I can’t do it anymore. It’s your turn,” Jake sighed, exasperated, collapsing into his seat. He’d been on wingman duty for Jay, and (apparently, because you’d never been unlucky enough to witness it yourself) Jay was a terrible flirt.

Heeseung picked up his glass, downed what was left in it in one gulp, and set it back down on the table with a loud thump. “Alright, here I go,” he declared. You watched him carefully as he walked over to the bar, but he didn’t seem too drunk yet. He’d be fine.

At the booth behind where Jay was, however, you saw someone else who made your blood run cold.

“Hoon, don’t turn around, but Jeongmin is here,” you began. Jeongmin was staring intensely at you. Sunghoon sat up straight in alarm. Maybe you looked familiar to him and he was trying to place you.

Jake, ever the quick thinker, said, “You guys should leave. I’ll stay and let Jay and Hee know what happened.” Sunghoon was still frozen.

“Thanks, Jake. Pass these to Heeseung for me.” You fished your keys (Heeseung hadn’t brought his own) out of your pocket to toss them to Jake, grabbed Sunghoon by the arm, and dragged him out of the bar.

“Aren’t you sober? Why don’t your legs work?” you grunted, trying to shake him to attention and pull him down the street at the same time. A passing car revving its engine snapped him out of it, whatever it was.

“Fuck, yeah. Sorry,” Sunghoon mumbled. Before you could even ask him if he was okay, what you’d been trying so hard to avoid happened.

“Park Sunghoon.”

You could pick out Jeongmin’s voice anywhere. It was low, rough, and sharp. He somehow looked identical to how he looked back in high school, if only slightly thinner and more tired.

“You. You called the cops on us that night,” Jeongmin hissed. jabbing an accusatory finger at Sunghoon.

“I didn’t,” Sunghoon stated calmly, but you could tell he was on edge. He subtly pushed you behind him.

“Yeah, right. On the one night we get busted the new kid just happens to not show up,” Jeongmin scoffed, taking a step towards you.

Sunghoon held up his hands. “Look, man, I don’t want to fight. I didn’t call the cops on you.”

Jeongmin squared his shoulders and punched him hard in the jaw without warning. The silver ring he was wearing drew a deep red gash across Sunghoon’s cheek.

As if on auto-pilot, like it was second nature to him, Sunghoon immediately returned the blow with a punch of his own before you even had the time to think. You gasped, Jeongmin’s nose cracked, and Sunghoon took advantage of the distraction to kick him hard in the knee, knocking him to the ground.

Then he grabbed your hand and ran.

——————————

The walk back to the dorm was silent. Sunghoon’s lips were pressed tightly together, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his fists were clenched like he was trying not to cry. You remembered the days when you, not him, were usually the one who needed comforting.

It reassured you to some degree, though, that he wouldn’t hide his sadness from you like he used to. You reached for his hand the second you were out of Jeongmin’s line of sight and threaded your fingers between his. His knuckles were bruised.

Wordlessly, he handed you his keys and you unlocked his front door.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” you asked.

“Under the kitchen sink,” he said flatly, sitting down on the sofa.

You pulled it out from the back corner of the kitchen cabinet with great difficulty, joined him on the sofa, and started cleaning the cut on his jaw. He winced when the alcohol swab made contact with his skin.

“Sorry. I’m almost done,” you promised, tossing the swab aside and covering the cut up. It took all of twenty seconds. “Do you want to talk?”

Sunghoon closed his eyes and sighed, dropping his head. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I thought I was past that behaviour. I don’t-”

He stopped talking. You put your hand over his and waited. His bottom lip started to quiver as he held back tears.

“I don’t want to be that person again,” he sobbed, and the sound broke your heart.

Through the school grapevine you heard about fights with kids of neighbouring schools, breaking and entering, the like. But even now, so many years later, you didn’t fully know what he did with Jeongmin and his gang. You never asked, and he never volunteered that information.

He was crying. “I let my parents down. Every time I see them I just remember how angry they were at me. I’m a terrible son. Nothing I do will ever be able to erase that I humiliated them, I failed them, I brought shame to the whole family, I-”

You pulled him into a hug, feeling how his body trembled as he fought to speak.

“You’re not a terrible son, Hoon,” you whispered, as he sobbed into your hair.

He shook his head and pushed you away. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I think I broke his nose,” he repeated, almost frantic in his insistence. It wasn’t a state you’d seen him in before.

“But he hit you first,” you noted.

Finally, at your childish response, he cracked a small smile. “Weren’t you always the one who said violence was never the answer?” he laughed. His eyes were still glistening with tears, but at least he’d calmed down.

“Usually it isn’t, but I don’t subscribe to universal codes of human conduct anymore,” you told him. “Do you?”

He paused for a bit, staring at you, unable to find the words to reply. You smiled, swiped the tears on his cheeks away with a gentle hand, and got up to put away the first aid kit. It was late, and you were both tired.

“I love you,” Sunghoon said over his shoulder, his voice still thick with emotion. He said that often nowadays, although it wasn’t something he did previously. Neither of you ever felt the need to declare that when you were younger; it was a given.

“I love you too, Hoon,” you replied, still busy trying to make room in the cluttered space under his kitchen sink for the kit.

All the traces of his crying vanished when he next spoke. “No, I’m in love with you.”

You dropped the package of sponges in your hands. Your mind went blank.

There was something about the phrase ‘in love’ that you had never really understood. It implied love was all consuming, like a physical swallowing whole of your being. You felt love for others, but you’d never felt it so much that you were in the state of love.

Until you heard it from him. And then you realised you were already there.

“Say something. Please,” he begged, panicked by your silence.

“Hoon-”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbled, cutting you off, leaning back against the sofa with a hand over his eyes.

Sunghoon was not an interrupter. In all the years you’d known him, the only time he’d ever interrupted you was during your big final fight in your bedroom, when you’d snitched on him.

You left the first aid kit on the floor and sat down next to him. He didn’t move. You tapped the back of his hand to get him to look at you. Reluctantly, he did, but only through the gaps between his fingers.

“I’m in love with you too,” you admitted.

He was speechless at hearing his words echoed back to him, frozen for a good ten seconds before his gaze flickered down to your lips.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You nodded, and he kissed you. He placed one hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer while his other hand, bruised knuckles and all, grabbed one of your own. He laced your fingers together tightly, like he never wanted to let you go.

Your free hand ghosted over the line of his jaw, past the bandage you’d just put on his face and down his neck to his chest, warm and solid. He shivered under your touch.

“I love you, Hoon,” you breathed when you separated.

He gave you one last quick kiss on the tip of your nose. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” he whispered giddily, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip.

For the first few weeks after you reconnected, both of you had tried to return to what you once were. But it quickly became clear that that was never going to happen. Even after you had paved over the road, underneath the new asphalt the old potholes were still there, and nothing you did would ever fully correct them.

You had to look forward. Sunghoon was never going to be your best friend again, not like before. You would never get back your old relationship, full of childlike innocence and void of conflict. But that was okay. You were here, and he was here, and that was enough.

“Then I’ll keep saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you,” you repeated, leaning into his side and laying your head on his shoulder.

“I love you too. So much,” he said, putting his arm around you and letting you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. “You have no idea.”

He was tired of running and hiding from who he used to be, and going on the defensive and lashing out every time he was confronted with his past. He was done torturing his sixteen-year-old self.

You and him had something new. It wasn’t better, it wasn’t more. It was just different. You had your whole lives in front of you — an endless stretch of even, untouched, fresh road — waiting for you, and it would be stupid to focus on what lay behind you. You still had so much left to explore together.

——————————

thanks for reading <3

-minastras

#enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #sunghoon imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios

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celabi · 2 years

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“Baby, Sa’ little late, don’t you think?” 𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 blows out the puff of smoke from his cigarette, shuffling from one foot to the other as his eyes continue to follow your every move. “Why don’t you come to bed? Im sure your crops can wait till morning.” He always admired how you worked, but when your health was on the line— he knew when to step in and try to redirect your attention to something else, which was mostly a calm ride to ZuZu City on the back of his motorcycle.

He can hardly see your facial expression when you turn around due to the light being so dim, but he can already imagine that your lips are turned down into a small frown— one that always makes his knees feel weak because you just look so pretty. He hears you let out a small, tired sigh. “I know, Seb, but winters coming up and they’ll die if I don’t and…” you trail off because you know, that he knows the gist of it all.

Sebastian frowns at the clear exhaustion that is evident in your voice, but you only wave him off with a small smile, which of course doesn’t change his mind. He goes to flick his cig out his mouth and onto the ground but stops, knowing how hard you work on the farm, he quickly jogs towards the nearest trash can before making his way back to you.

You’re crouched down and just finished dusting the dirt off a pumpkin you harvested when a hand is placed on your shoulder, and when you look up— a soft smile is on your husbands face while he looks down at you, his eyes full with a mix of pleading and adoration. “Love, please, I can tell you’re tired.” You have no time to protest before your softly being pulled up by the arm and into his arms.

“What— Sebby?” You try and use the ‘cute nickname card’ that always lets you have your way, but surprisingly— it doesn’t work this time as your crop layout gets further and further away from your vision. And although your much stronger than Sebastian, you don’t try to fight him on this one and just nestle into his arms, wrapping your own around his neck and closing your eyes contently. You think maybe the end of this seasons produce wouldn’t hurt too much to loose.

He lets out a string of curses as he fumbles with the door nob to the front door, so he balances you on his hip so his hand can be accessible, and in no time you’re both away from the cold night breeze and inside your cosy home and seated on a stool near the kitchen counter. You watch your husband chuck some wood and firelighters into the fireplace and igniting before making his way back to you.

Your eyes lazing follow his movements when he crouched down in front of you and taps his thigh, and when you make no sign of moving, he lightly chuckles and pulls your foot up and starts pulling off your work boots— not caring about the mud that stains the new pair of jeans he just brought.

“Thank you, Seb. I appreciate what you do for me.” You lean your head on top of his and rest your eyes, and Sebastian— who’s now massaging your sore feet, sighs before a small, almost unnoticeable smile takes over his face. “Baby, compared to what you do everyday, this is nothing.”

Your quiet snores full his ears and he takes it as his sign to stop and finally get you to bed. As gentle as he can, Sebastian scoops you back into his arms and makes his way to your shared bedroom, plopping you onto the edge of the bed before shuffling around the room to find a spare shirt lying around— afraid that he’ll make too much notice if he opens the closet door.

The small lantern doesn’t help much as he can hardly tell where the clips to your overalls start, so he just pulls them over your shoulders and off your body, changing your marked, farm shirt and into a black, skull print one you brought for him on his birthday, one that he wears every other day.

He doesn’t even notice the adoring smile he has on while tucking you under the blankets, instead just patting down your hair and kissing you on the forehead goodnight. “I’d do anything for you.” He knows you can’t hear him, but that doesn’t stop him from spilling his love— it’s almost good because he cant feel embarrassed if you don’t know what he’s saying.

You’re so deep in sleep you don’t hear Sebastian trudging on his shoes and slipping on his jacket, sending your sleeping form one last glance before making his way back outside. He’s watched you work around the farm more times than he could count, so harvesting crops can’t possibly be as hard as it looks.

Spoiler alert, it was. When you wake up, Sebastian’s fluffy black hair doesn’t tickle your nose like it normally does in the morning, and instead is filled with the sweet aroma of pancakes. Pulling the hem of your shirt— one that you don’t remember changing into, over your underwear, you tiredly make your way to the kitchen to see your husbands back facing you while serving up breakfast.

“Good morning, Seb.” You yawn, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes and shuffling over towards him— wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning into his back.

“Morning, love.” His voice is raspy and dry when he turns his head back to look at you, sending you a smile before pulling you towards the dining table, which to your surprise— is over crowded with baskets upon baskets full off all the crops you were trying to harvest last night.

“Wha— Seb, you, I don’t—” words start to make no sense as they fall from your lips. Sebastian, your husband, someone who hates going outside and rather stay indoors, used the time that should have been spent sleeping beside you, was instead put into your farming.

“I knew maintaining a farm was hard, but when I was actually doing the work, it made me realise just how much effort you put into this stuff. It’s not a lot— but I hope I made your job just a little bit more easier.”

#🍃ー celabi ☆彡 #stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley x reader #sdv x reader #Sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian #sdv sebastian x reader #stardew valley sebastian #sdv farmer #sdv x farmer

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eeunoia · 1 month

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ENHYPEN Series

sinag | psh.

chapter nine

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: contains harrassment, violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: hi guys, please send me feedbacks about the fic. i would really like to hear from you. anyway, enjoy reading! ily, stay safe.

The man laying at the cold concrete floor crawled slowly, trying to escape from his own death. He grunts as he felt his body aches because of all the beatings he just had. His face almost unrecognizable because of the amount of bruises and blood covering all over.

“P-Please,” his plea came out as a mumble as his lips already felt numb. When he saw a pair of shoes in front of him that have blood stains over it, of him he trembles in fear as he slowly raised his head up to look at the person standing proudly while looking down at him.

His hair soaked in mixed blood and sweat and was pushed back a bit messy but that didn't even made him less attractive. The fine man have this placid look plastered over his face, showing no remorse and inch by inch losing his patience. Dark and dangerous, that’s what his full aura gives off making the man lose his shit.

“Do you even hear yourself? A fucking mafia,” he scoffed humorless.

“pleading?” his tone completely sarcastic and full of insult but the man at the cold ground don’t even care about any of that. All he can think of is to make it out here alive. To earn his mercy.

“I’ll d-do anything. Just don’t kill me.” he once again plead.

In all honesty, the man doesn’t even know the point of begging him nonstop to spare him. He knew very well who's this powerful young mafia in front of him. Park Sunghoon. If wrath and ruthless will be a person, he will surely pass to be the main epitome of it.

He’s known for his arrogant personality. He have short patience and can act wrecklessly whenever he feels like to. Just a mere mention of his name, everyone instantly assumed that there is trouble and death.

The amused grin of the person in front of him fell and he’s surprise at how fast the young man changed his expressions. Now, his eyes were dead and blank once again while he eye him.

“I would’ve spared you if you only gave me the information I want from you.” he uttered coldly.

“I already told you, I didn't know that girl! Hell, I didn’t even saw that face of her in my entire life.” his tone slightly raising because of frustration and pressure of having his life in line just because of a girl he had never seen in his whole life.

The man kept his blank face, unconvinced with his words. His men that are standing a few feet away from him shows nothing but ignorance. They stood silence while they watch their boss mercilessly beat him like an animal.

“Do you think I’m lying? I can never forget such face if I already laid eyes on her! She’s beautiful--” his sentence was caught off as a bullet was suddenly fired over his head, causing him to lost his life. Sunghoon didn’t even blink or flinch as the loud bang echoed inside the room.

“You run your mouth too much.” he mumbled and even gave the poor man’s head a kick before he turned around to light himself a cigarette.

He puffed once as his jaw clenched hardly, his men now started to clean the whole place. He was trying to calm himself down when suddenly, his phone rang.

“Yeah?” he greeted then took another puff from his cigar.

“Dude, where the fuck are you? Jake and I are gonna meet tonight.” his friend, Jay, was the person calling.

He shut his eyes and bit his lower lip out of frustration. He can feel his inside trembling in anger and all other negative emotions that he’s trying to suppress inside him taking over his mind.

“Dude?” his friend called out when he didn’t respond.

“I can’t today. I'm out of the country.” he answered. The person from the other line grew silent for a while before he heaved a sigh.

“You’re searching for her again, am I right, Hoon?”

Of course, his friend knew what he’s doing. They’re probably already used to it by now. If ever he went away and went missing in action, it only means he’s searching for this girl. His girl.

He was so ready to hear an earful from his friend once again. Out of all of them, he was the one who disagrees on him searching for this girl like a mad man. If he isn’t his friend, he might’ve planted multiple bullets to his head already.

“She visited my dream again, Jay. I couldn't sleep for days. I n-need to fucking find her or I’ll really lose my mind any time soon.” Sunghoon said then threw the lit up cigarette over the floor before running his hand over his hair.

His friend sighed, “It's been years, Hoon. Don’t you think if she really exist, you should’ve find her by now?”

This isn’t the first time his friend tried to knock up sense into his brain but Sunghoon was very much determine to find you. He’s a man of principles and the type of person who stands up for his own beliefs. He won’t just surrender and he will prove him that he was right. If he may search the whole world, he will.

“I have to go, Jay.” he said coldly, dismissing any more of his friend’s plan to stop him from his crazy decisions. Before he can even complain, he ended the call and just roamed his eyes around.

A room full of dead bodies. A familiar scene for him already. He was told that the man he just killed may had known the girl he was looking for but here he is, disappointed again not to get any information about you. Sunghoon’s eyes grew colder at the feeling of having a blank space in him. He knew that the only person who can fill it was you and nobody else.

“Boss, the car is ready.” Sunghoon’s head look over to his shoulder when Icarus called out his attention.

He shut his eyes for a while before he tilted his head over to the side then slowly walked out the place. His broad shoulder were hanging low as his eyes grew colder as he take steps further outside. Once again, he was disappointed. He doesn't know why he even always raise his expectations at these things when he know clearly that the ratio of finding you was low.

“Where to, boss?” his driver asked.

Sunghoon’s eyes were shut close, trying to calm himself and give his mind some peace even though he knew he’s slowly losing it. He fluttered his eyes open as he looked over the window. The bright city lights are the first who greeted him, they seem fancy but he doesn't care.

“Take me to the nearest bar.” he ordered and his driver just quietly muttered an ‘Right away, boss.’ and followed his order.

On the other hand, you arrived at the country where the seminar will be held. The hotel seems very fancy, clearly the company have budget for this trip. They also booked you a four day trip even though the seminar will be in just one day. Over all, you just planned to enjoy this trip as much as you could.

The plane ride was not so bad, but you couldn’t even take a nap out of all the overthinking you did the whole duration. When you arrived the hotel, they assist you right away and even had staffs aligned to welcome your arrival. It was a little odd and overwhelming, but you just shrugged it off.

Luke wasn’t happy about this trip. When did he ever been happy about your achievements anyway? It didn’t surprise you anymore. At this point, you’re just fed up with his immature behaviors.

Seems like overthinking got you all riled up because despite the night falling deeper, you found yourself unsleepy. After taking a very refreshing shower, you found a card at the center table. It was a pass for this exclusive bar just beside this very hotel. Thinking that having a few drinks may help you to sleep, you decided to go check it out.

It didn’t disappoint you as the ambiance of the whole place is relaxing. Although there are just some weird feeling inside you. Like something’s ain’t right.

“Did you hear anything from Luke?” you bit your lower lip as you wait for your friend to answer your question. One hand holding your phone over at your ears while the other one played over the glass of liqour.

“No... Are you still not okay?” she asked from the other line.

You pursed your lips and let go of the glass before carefully caressing your forehead. You rested both of your elbows at the bar counter and pursed your lips.

“He’s still mad, I guess?” you mumbled and lowered your shoulder then started playing with the glass again.

Your friend scoffed, “Why would he be mad anyway? You went there because of work. It isn't like you went there for a vacation!” Lucie hissed and you know she have a point.

“You're right but I also kind of forgot to tell him before my trip. I happen to remember the day of my flight.” you said. The other line went silent for a while before your friend let out a sigh.

“Well, okay. But at least he needs to understand and be supportive. You’re finally facing your fears!” her tone got excited once more. A small smile appeared over your face.

“Yes. Finally. I just hope everything won’t turn like how it used to be before.”

She sighs, “Stop overthinking, okay? If anything happens, you can call me. I will catch the next flight to you right away!”

That made you feel so much better. Lucie really does care and very sweet. You are very thankful for a friend like her. Someone very reliable and trustworthy.

“Just think of it as a small get away from all the stress.” she tries to comfort you that its okay to be here right now. That everything will be just fine.

“All right. How about you? Are you okay alone there?” you asks a little worried to leave her alone for the first time ever since you two started living togther.

She chuckles, “Of course! I’m not five, okay? Anyway, just think of yourself. Reflect on your life and appreciate that you are finally at the best point of your life.”

“Am I?” you murmured under your breath. It was low so you knew she missed it.

You gulped trying to get rid of the lump over your throat. You are thankful for everything that you have right now. A stable job, good friends, parents (although they’re mostly just there to ask money from you), and a boyfriend. You know you should be contented at it but at some point, you feel like something’s not right... like something’s missing.

“Y/n... stop overthinking and enjoy.” she said, more like a reminder.

At the end, you had no other choice but to oblige to what she said. You are already here and maybe the fear of being in a foreign country again gets into you too much. Its making you overthink everything.

As you continue your chitchat with your friend, your eyes unconsciously darted over to these group of men that just made its entrance to the bar. They were wearing uniforms that were similar, like some bodyguards or something and they have this weird vibe.

You shrugged it off and just diverted your attention back to your glass of liquor. Thankfully, you shut the topic off and decided to talk about something else. You chuckled as you listen to your friend’s funny story, unaware of the pair of eyes who are piercing at you.

Sunghoon was at dazed. He feels like his mind was floating or something while he watch you converse over your phone. He doesn't know if its the desperation, (clearly can’t blame the alcohol since he just arrived) that cause him to start seeing things.

Is he really going out of his mind? Did he lose it? Sunghoon wonders, but his eyes never left your direction. He’s afraid that you’ll disappear, even if it really is his hallucinations, he don’t want to risk it.

“Icarus...” he calls for his assistant. He struts a bit closer, but not too close. He still made sure he kept Sunghoon’s personal space, something he’s really fond of.

“I took my meds today, right? Tell me I’m not seeing things.” his chest heaves up and down, eyes still fixed at you laughing about something that your friend uttered from the other line.

Sunghoon was beyond astonished. His heart races, feet stoned at the position, and slowly all the noise around him are turning into a muffled sound. Like they’re being thrown away somewhere far from where the two of you are.

Icarus' eyes follows his line of sight and he was surprised as well. He gazes over the three other men near him and like him, they looked staggered. He fished his phone and quickly pulls up the painted picture that they’ve been using to search for you. He glanced back and fort multiple times and there’s no doubt that it was you.

“It is her, Boss.” he confirmed that ringed at the back of his mind.

Icarus took a glance over his boss and he quickly started dialling someone through his phone. This is the sole purpose of their nonstop search countries by countries, and yet now that you are there all of them are just stunned. They couldn’t process it properly.

Multiple times that people labelled Sunghoon to be crazy and now, you are here. Proving everyone that they are indeed wrong because you do really exist. Sunghoon’s overwhelmed. He was out of words and just kept staring. Like he was caught in a trance.

He wanted so bad to approach you and steal you out from here. Sunghoon fights all his demons just so he can hold back from holding you right there and then. He’s been waiting for this moment for so long and so he knows he shouldn’t act impulsively.

While Sunghoon enjoys watching you silently after he ordered something to drink, he felt a presence approaches him.

“Sir, we found the hotel where she’s staying at. Beside this establishment.” Icarus announced. Sunghoon nodded his head without sparing him a glance and tilts his head.

“I will go with some of our men to check her room for informations.” he added, informing and asking for permission from Sunghoon.

“All right, you can do that. Hurry up before she decides to go back. I don’t want her to be suspicious of anything.” despite the spark over his eyes, his tone ice cold as he speak to his assistant.

Icarus silently nodded his head, “Noted, boss.” and with that he exits himself taking a few of their men to go with him.

You have no idea that some men are planning to intrude your hotel room. All you care about that night was to loosen up and get rid of these negative thoughts inside your mind.

The corner of Sunghoon’s lips lifts up a little as he watches you made face after a hard shot. It was very adorable for the young mafia boss.

He taps the table once, catching one of the bartender’s attention. He wasn’t a regular, but he sure is known around here. Of course not about good things. There were never goodness in him.

“Give whatever she needs and wants. I’ll pay for it.” his words were firm and cold. The intimidated worker glanced over at your direction and quickly gave Sunghoon a nod, eyes flashes fear.

The night continued and Sunghoon took a few shots. It was incomparable to what you just had. You’re now gulping your eleventh shot and it was obvious that you’re more than drunk. He bet you are now incapable of walking straightly.

Also the sensual gazes from multiple men inside this bar that peers at you didn’t slip from him. He wasn’t too happy about it, fighting the urge of snapping their heads off one by one. Thankfully, the fact that he finally found you kind of made him more calmer. And as long as nobody tries to lay their hands on you, they’ll be good.

He saw you stood up and kind of impressed that you managed to put yourself on your feet. He smirks dangerously and stood up, placing a stack of money at the bar counter. It was way too much as a payment, but he does not care. You seem like you enjoyed your night, the barternders deserves tips for satisfying a customer. Especially if that customer is none other than you.

His smirk fell when he saw you stumble over a man that’s already grinning maliciously. He did not liked it in one bit. The man licks his disgusting lips as he racked his eyes all over your body. Sunghoon snapped at the sight of it and quickly marched near your direction.

You’re basically so drunk that you passed out, unable to even recognize the man holding you.

“Do you need some help pretty girl?” the man whispered meaningfully and was about to grab you by the waist when a hand yanked it hardly making the man scream so loud.

It caught attention, but that’s the least Sunghoon cares about.

“You might be the one that’ll be needing help.” he grunts angrily as his free hand held you over your waist to make sure you aren’t crashing down the floor now that he lets go of you.

The man groans and brows furrowing in a displeased expression. He lifts his head, ready to curse out the man that was doing this to him, but instead the color to his face all drained out.

People inside the bar stayed at their places, doesn’t really want to get involve once caught glance at the Park Sunghoon. All they can do is to stare, because they knew if they try to get involve, its going to be hell for them too.

“M-Mr. Park, I w-was just—” the man yet again shrieked eerily, his eyes grew when the man pulled his wrist and broke it with no remorse.

He fell down on the ground crying out of pain. He called out for help nonstop, but nobody even tried to call an ambulance. They were just there, watching the awful scene.

Sunghoon held your waist and checks on your passed out state. With his furrowed brows he scanned you carefully, making sure no injury was inflicted. After making sure you’re all right, he carries you effortlessly by his arms and heads outside the bar.

“Let’s call it a night now, princess.” he mumbles softly.

“Sir, what are we going to do about the man in the bar?” one of his man stalks behind him.

Sunghoon’s eyes turned murderous once it left you. “Get rid of him.” he coldly said before walking inside the lobby of the luxurious hotel you’re currently staying on.

The moment he stepped foot, he saw Icarus talking carefully with the staff of the hotel. He was sure he’s discussing with them what to do and not to do. He have no idea who owns this place, but he will surely make sure none of the things they did will be come known and that you will be enjoying your stay.

His eyes looked panic when he saw Sunghoon carrying you by his arms, unconscious. He excused himself from the girl at the front desk and slowly approaches him. The staffs that gets to see the view looked bothered, but what can they do about it? It’s Park Sunghoon. It’s either they kept their mouth shut or he will shut their mouth forever.

“W-What happened...?” he was hesitant as he ask that question to Sunghoon.

The original plan if ever they manage to find you is to observe and never engage too near. But why does he carrying you like this and passed out? Did his boss lose control and forcedly took you here?

“She passed out from drinking.” he explained shortly that somehow ease his worry.

He told Sunghoon the number of your room and he went there by himself. Icarus left to go and check on the mess Sunghoon just made by the bar.

The mirror of the elevator reflects the two of you. It was a sight Sunghoon never expected to see this soon. Numerous times he imagined holding you like this by his arms and now that you’re here, it feel sureal.

He strides the hotel hallway, his long legs makes it a short travel from the elevator to your room. The whole floor is now vacant as he ordered Icarus to rent all the rooms so they can ensure your safety and that you can rest properly.

After he opened your room, he walked over the bed and placed you carefully. He smashed his lips together as he inhaled your scent, making his head all fuzzy. You smell so good and its making him crazy. He leans away and stared at your sleeping figure.

He still couldn’t believe it. Thinking that he’s in a dream. And if ever he is, he don’t want to wake up anymore. He wants to stay in this dream, with you.

He extends his hand and slowly tried to brush some strands of hair that was on your face. He jolts when you suddenly moved, the tip of his finger grazed on your soft skin. He heaves a sigh, feeling his heart thumped like crazy.

He stares at his big hand for a while before he smirks a little. His eyes trailed back at your sleeping state and he noticed the clothes you are wearing. It doesn’t look uncomfortable, but you won’t be able to rest properly.

He fished his phone from his pocket while still watching you sleep, not allowing to take his sight out of you. Like afraid that you’ll suddenly vanish.

“Boss?”

“Ask for room service for her room. I want them all girls and also someone who can dress her into a more comfy clothes.” he ordered that his assistant quick assists.

He sighs. He doesn’t want to leave yet, but he knew he has to. Slowly, he sat down at the side of the bed and stared at you peacefully sleeping.

He reaches for your hand and with a racing heart he held your hand. Lifts it and placed a soft kiss on top of it while his eyes darted directly at you.

“Sleep well, my pretty. I’ll have you for myself soon.”

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feroluce · 2 months

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Lucid Dreamer (1/2)

part 2

Gepard notices that it's been. Quiet lately. Like weirdly quiet. TOO quiet. He hasn't seen Sampo Koski in almost a week, which is about the longest he's ever been absent. And he is NOT worried. He's not! So what if they've been getting along more lately! So what if Gepard sometimes looks for him in his favorite hiding places! So what if he's been dreaming about blue hair and green eyes! It's nothing!!

But they're….strange, these dreams. Gepard doesn't usually remember what he's dreamt. It's out of his mind seconds within waking up. But these stick with him, they won't leave him be, they feel different somehow.

He dreams of Sampo bringing food to the frontlines and eating breakfast in his tent with him. Sampo always sneaks him extras. He dreams of chasing Sampo through the alleyways, Sampo sometimes letting himself be caught, Gepard sometimes catching him, and trying to ignore how it feels more like a game now more than anything else. He even dreams that Sampo tags along with him on one of his few civilian days. Sampo runs errands with him, prattles about inane bullshit while Gepard picks out groceries for the week, drags Gepard into some bakery he's never been to but he thinks Serval mentioned once.

And sometimes, it feels so close to reality, that Gepard half expects to see Sampo, shamelessly swaggering into the frontlines with all the guards' breakfast like his wanted poster wasn't only recently taken off the walls of Belobog. He's disappointed when it's always someone else instead. He tells himself his disappointment is ridiculous and if Sampo wants to go prowl around the Snow Plains or wherever he is, then fine. It's not any of his business.

…But it IS his job to investigate any unusual criminal activity relating to the frontlines. And the frontlines are Sampo's usual haunting grounds, and this is unusual activity, and Sampo IS technically a criminal, so it is absolutely part of his duty to look into this - is what Gepard tells himself the entire tram ride down into the Underground.

Natasha tells him he's gone, and Gepard has to steel himself. He knew Sampo made enemies wherever he went, there are a lot of people who would love his head on a platter, but he didn't think-

Natasha corrects him that she means literally gone. As in off-planet. Sampo always leaves her a note before he goes anywhere, so she knows not to expect any supply runs from him. He should be back in exactly two weeks. Thank the Preservation.

Gepard goes back home. He waits.

The uneasiness doesn't leave him.

"Where did you go?" Sampo stops dead in the middle of some story about Seele, and how you'd think someone with as blunt a mouth as her wouldn't have so much trouble asking a woman out, even if that woman IS the Supreme Guardian, and stares at him. He nearly fumbles his cigarette.

"Ahaha, what do you mean, I'm right here?" Sampo smiles at him the same way he always does. Gepard has no idea why he asked. It just popped out. He can never tell when Sampo is lying, anyway.

"I don't know. I feel like I haven't seen you in a long time." Gepard idly mouths at his own cigarette. He almost never smokes, but he wants to ration their stocks of Blizzard Immunity, and it helps with the cold. It's seemed colder lately, for some reason.

Gepard flicks his lighter once, twice, sighs at the third time because a metal prosthetic and thick gloves make the damn things so difficult. Sampo reaches over and wordlessly kisses the end of his cigarette to Gepard's, lighting it. "Thank you."

Nothing happens for almost a full 30 seconds. Something churns behind Gepard's ribcage. Because Sampo never leaves a "thank you" hanging. This is the part where he gives his spiel about how helpful and kind he is and Gepard either brings up how long his rap sheet was before Bronya helped clear his name, or just stares deadpan because seeing Sampo squirm is weirdly satisfying.

"…I'll be back in one more week."

Gepard jolts awake in his cot, mouth dry and eyes bleary.

The hell.

The next dream he has, Sampo looks tired. Sometimes he seems normal. Sometimes he says strange things, like how he wishes he'd gone to some restaurant in Belobog. Ate his favorite food more recently. Brought something with him. Gepard asks why he can't do that now. Where would he bring something? Sampo only shrugs. His rebuttals have less energy.

Gepard doesn't know if he wants to dream more, or less.

He ticks down the days on his calendar. Natasha hasn't told him any different. She promised she would if she got any kind of message. Sampo returns tomorrow, from whatever vacation or seedy business dealings he's been off having. He is not excited about it. He is not looking forward to it. He's not!!

Gepard falls asleep late that night, unable to settle. He dreams again.

He's alone. There are tons of people everywhere, the frontlines are always crowded. But he's alone. They all pass right by him as though he were a ghost. Gepard starts to walk before he realizes his feet are even moving.

He checks the trashcans in the dead end alley. He checks the supply crates that someone always stacks too high because they don't feel like finding more space for them. He pauses to check the soldiers that march past him, watching their footprints in the snow.

He finally finds Sampo on the rooftop along the northernmost wall, the one that looks out over the plains, towards Everwinter Hill, towards where the Stellaron had once been kept. With a full moon and an entire land of white snow, Gepard can almost see clear out to the horizon.

"Found you." Sampo stiffens, and Gepard is almost prepared for him to sprint off the roof. He doesn't. But he doesn't relax either. Gepard sits down next to him and stares out at the wastelands.

"…I fucked up." It wasn't what Gepard had been expecting. Sampo never 'fucks up,' Sampo just gets into incidents that are entirely, supposedly, not his fault and that he just happens to always be within the vicinity of.

"What did you do now?" It must be really bad if Sampo is coming to the Silvermanes for protection.

Instead, Sampo ignores his question completely. "See out over there? Right on the other side of that mountain. There's a safe house that way. It's hidden under a lot of snow and dead trees, but it's there. And in that safe house is a box full of letters. I need you to deliver those letters for me."

Gepard's brow furrows. It's a weird favor to ask. Sampo would never tell anyone where his hidden safehouses were. It defeated the whole purpose of a hidden safe house.

Something is wrong, something is really really wrong.

Gepard turns back to look at him again and startles, all of his questions dying in his throat, because the entire left side of Sampo's head is suddenly matted down, dark and sticky, his skin is dyed red red red-

"In three more months, there's gonna be something big happening." Gepard grabs Sampo's hand and it feels slick and warm against his palm. "I won't be here. So I need you to do my end of things for me." Gepard tries to keep hold, but something is fading, something is slowing, the sun is coming up but the colors are all wrong, everything feels like encroaching fog, Sampo's hand slides right through his. "I was gonna come back with my mask to finish setting the stage, but…" Gepard makes a frantic grab for Sampo's wrist, the air twists, he comes back empty-handed. "They have you. And you're the Iron Wall of Belobog. So it'll be ok."

Gepard finally manages to find his grip, snatches the front of Sampo's dark wet jacket and yanks him forward to hold onto him, and this close up, he can see it better, his colors are bleaching out, leaking outside the lines as if Sampo will become part of the background, as if he's fading into the strange fog that's been closing in on them. His fingers are already starting to feel empty again.

"Wake up."

Gepard jolts awake, uncurls his hands from where they're fisted in the blanket, scrubs the dampness off his face. Breathes. Breathes. Breathes. Today is supposed to be the day.

He throws on his civilian clothes, and he goes down to the shipyard the IPC had built. He finds a spot where he can see every person that returns to Belobog, and he waits.

And he waits and he waits and he waits.

No one he recognizes appears.

#sampard #gepo #hsr gepard #hsr sampo #gepard landau #sampo koski #honkai star rail #hsr #blood #my fics #lucid dreamer #there was more to this but it didn't feel right included here so part 2 tomorrow maybe?#I just think Penacony being the land of dreams presents some FASCINATING possibilities like showing up in other people's dreams #the end of masquerade duet killed me just beat me dead #Sampo going through all this trouble just to protect Belobog...#poor Ray got such an earful that night haha #In the Penacony dreamscape someone can change their appearance however they want but I think in this case where one of the dreamers AREN'T-#-on Penacony it would take more concentration to keep that illusion up #and if someone were say. hurt and badly bleeding. it would start to fall apart eventually as they lost their concentration.#but oh my heart #Sampo being away and missing Belobog so badly he shows up in his friends' dreams just to do the same mundane shit they always do...#He probably showed up to everyone #he sat around and kept Natasha company in her clinic. he pestered Seele until he provoked her into asking Bronya on a date.#he played one last song with Pela and Serval. he told them he'd always kept his old bass guitar.#he took Hook out on one last joyride on his scooter and he even let her sit up front and steer like she'd always wanted.#and he stood around to shoot the shit with Gepard #he got to go do things like run domestic errands together with him. as if they could have been something more than what they were at the en #it was nice to get the chance to do all that #it was nice

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aftgficrec · 8 months

Note

ah I'm so excited you're open!!! thank you for the ridiculous amount of work you all do 🙏ok, this might be too specific but any fics with an alternate take on Andrew and Neil's post-trk reunion? Andrew gets out of easthaven early, Neil leaves the Nest later, AU's, etc.? i think it's a really interesting point in their dynamic, and I'm a sucker for sober Andrew realizing someone was watching his back for once

Feeling a bit like a Bernie Sanders’ meme – ‘I am once again asking myself why I spent so much time on an ask,’ 😅 but it's because this is such an iconic and beloved scene for our fandom. For a super fun ‘live’ first-time reader reaction to this high drama, check out ‘The King’s Men, Chapter 1 – Hello Foxhole, My Old Friend’ by @nickireadstfc here. -A

also see

Andrew's POV of throwing keys off roof here

‘Come and Save Me From It’ here (completed)

‘Learning To Feel (When You've Forgotten How)’ and the fandom meta posts here

‘pipedream’ here

‘reaching for the heights’ here

‘Lost boy’ and ‘[Un]broken’ here

‘I Know You From A Nightmare,’ ‘The Marks We Make,’ and ‘Draw Me Out, Mark Me In’ here

‘Marked’ and ‘Soulmates who can feel each other’s pain’ here

‘Of Stars and Stories’ here

‘What’s normal now?’ here

long previous recs with reunion mention

‘No More Fucks To Give’ here (updated)

‘The Sphynx and the Hare’ here (completed)

‘corvus, vulpes, lupus’ here

‘never fallen (from quite this high)’ here

‘Not a Pipe Dream’ here

‘everything and nothing begins with you’ here

Andrew gets sober, Neil stays at Evermore

‘Oh Raven,’ ‘Jailbird,’ and ‘Take to the Wing’ here

‘Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die)’ here

‘Comeback’ here

you may also like

in the dream I don't tell anyone (you put your head in my lap) by Fortheloveofexy [Rated T, 1850 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

The real Neil would never allow this, would not let himself be this vulnerable. The real Neil can barely stand to be around him. Andrew knows this. But Dream Neil? Dream Neil is a different story.

Will you be there when I come back? by Shamman [Not Rated, 299 Words, Complete, 2017]

Andrew is trapped in Easthaven with an eidetic memory and tries to focus his thoughts on the confusing image of Neil Josten's face. -Because however terrible it may look, Andrew's current circumstances are much less pleasant. Furthermore Bee has been making him sing and play the guitar in a very therapeutic attempt to make him express some sort of actual emotion over the past year.

tw: violent imagery

You Gave Me A Key And Called It Home by glintchi [Rated T, Collection, Complete, 2019]

Chapter 19: Yes, I Admit It, You Were Right [460 Words] Renee was waiting for him in the basement, fingers already taped, hair pulled back into a tuft of a rainbow ponytail.

Foxhole Tidbits by SpangleBangle [Collection Rated T/M, Updated 2018]

Chapter 14: My Friend, O My Friend [M, 953 Words] Prompt for Renee's reaction after Drake/Easthaven and Andrew's return.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: canonical character death

Did You Miss Me? by Deathandcommas [Rated G, 555 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

Aaron and Andrew have a late night chat after Andrew gets back from Easthaven.

tfw spoons by StrawBerryRains [Rated G, 216 Words, Complete, 2021]

Nicky offers Andrew ice cream when they arrive home from Easthaven.

A Taste of Your Own Medicine by caffeine_withdrawl [Rated M, 66454 Words, Incomplete, Updated March 2023]

Set after the infamous Thanksgiving, but then diverges from canon. Andrew and Bee decide it’s time for Andrew to come off the drugs, but works some magic so that he is allowed to do it in Columbia. Neil is tasked with helping him through it. They decide to do it the same way Andrew helped Aaron sober up, by locking him in a bathroom. Andrew doesn't react well, and switches between rage and panic. Andrew wonders if Neil is real or if he made him up because of the drugs.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: body horror, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: flashbacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: drug addiction, tw: withdrawal, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: ptsd, tw: emotional abuse, tw: hallucinations

making it harder to breathe by Azure_Allumiia [Rated T, 1643 Words, Complete, 2021]

Christmas Break with the Foxes, featuring Andrew at Easthaven and Neil in Evermore. Foxes celebrate New Years in NYC with the ball drop.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: medical abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood

Dead Birds by Noah98 [Rated G, 1601 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Neil just got back from Evermore and Andrew has returned from Easthaven. Riko calls. He wants a rematch and oh boy does he get it.

tw: violence, tw: blood/gore

Art

NB: just a sampling of art for this scene

“Feel Again” original song by @whatbutandreil [Tumblr, 2020]

Picking up Andrew from Easthaven part 1, part 2 comic by @coldcigarettes

andreil keys off the roof scene: animation by @hahanken | comic by @rainbowd00dles | comic by @lunapiq | art by @esklinray

I hate you comic by @thematicallycoherent

I’m not a hallucination art by @clumsyartish

Stick around long enough to figure it out for yourself. edit by @m1nyards

You are a pipe dream art by @viennemort

“you spend all this time watching our backs” edit by @matthcwboyd

not a hallucination a pipe dream art by @kryptidfox

“you were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs.” art by @planetmontressor

"Go inside and leave me alone." art by @dimsunstuff

“No, you’re a pipe dream.” art by @starkingdraws

113 notes · View notes

wannaseewhatshangin · 1 year

Text

Love theif<3

You and Dallas were currently roommates, or actually hallmates. You lived at Buck's so you could work, Dallas lived at Buck's because he wanted to sit on his lazy ass all the time.

"Shut that music up, Y/n!" Dallas yelled from his room.

"How about you shut up, Dickface!" You screamed back.

This was a daily thing, it was like Buck was taking care of two hot headed kids with anger issues.

He could be funny sometimes but he was just impossible to like. Ya'll have been fighting since y'all met, since y'all came together as a gang.

You knew the Curtis brothers because they lived next to you for your whole life, and then here comes Dallas trying to make you miserable.

Two-Bit, Soda and Steve said it's because he likes you, but you never believed that shit.

Dallas came in your room, and just stared at you.

"Can I fucking help you?" you asked, waiting for a stupid response.

And you were right about the stupid response because he knocked everything off of your dresser and onto the floor, laughed, and ran out also leaving the door open.

"Ughh!" you exclaimed before stomping over to Dalla's room.

You slammed open his bedroom door, making him jump a little.

"Hey, man. Easy on the door"

"Fuck you, Dally." You cursed.

"You wish." He said back, smirking.

God, that stupid smirk on his stupid face.

"Why do you do this to me? What did I do to make you fell like you have to fuck up everything?"

"Oh quit your bitchin- also that's mine." He said guesturing to the sweatshirt you were wearing.

He would be lying if he said he didn't think you look cute in his sweatshirt.

"So? you take my stuff." you said.

You picked up your lighter, which was sitting on his nightstand.

"My lighter." you said, holding it up in his face.

"It lights my cigarettes better than matches."

"My cigarettes that I just bought yesterday night. I know because I wrote My name on the inside."

"oh yeah, ay while your bickering can you hand me one?"

"My blanket." you said, snatching it off of him.

"It's soft!" he said, trying to get it back.

"Ugh! I'm gonna kill you" you said, jumping on top of him, starting to smack him on his arm.

He grabbed your hair, tugging hard at it.

"Ow you bitch! Let go of my hair!" You yelled before grabbing his hair, giving him the same pain.

"damn, I didn't know you were a freak like that." He smirked, half just tryna get a rise out of you, and the other half was actually impressed.

"Shut up, you are a freak just as much as I am. Now let go!"

You started to pull harder, taking both of y'all onto the floor, continuing the cat fight out into the hallway.

"You let go of my hair first and then I'll stop."

You paused for a second, thinking it over,

"You lyin?"

"Honest."

You slowly let go of his hair, before being tackled to the ground.

"You are a fake ass bitch!" You said, trying to get loose.

"Aww, you mad? Nah, you know you like playin around with me."

Before you could say something back, y'all were interrupted .

"What in the actual fuck is going on in here?" Buck's voice was heard, interrupting the fighting.

"Tell Dally to stop being a bitch! He keeps taking my stuff, coming into MY room and completely messing it up, it has been like this since we've met each other and I'm sick and tired of it!" You screamed.

You could see Buck's face, it looked like he was thinking.

"Yall follow me." He said plainly.

The two of you followed him, wondering where he was taking ya'll.

It was your room.

"Hey what are-" before you could finish, the door was shut.

"Hey! Let us out! I don't wanna be in here with him!"

"Well learn how to wanna be in there with him. Ya'll aren't coming out until y'all become besties." Buck said through the door, locking it.

You sighed, turning around, seeing Dallas laying on your bed, playing with your stuffed animal.

"Aww don't be mad Ms y/n." He said, making the stuffed animal look like it was talking to you.

you rolled your eyes, nudging him a little, telling him to scoot over.

You brought out some candy from your drawer and your remote, turning the TV on.

you threw a pack of candy at him.

"Shrimp dick." You said, your eyes still on the TV, finding a movie for y'all to watch.

"Biatch." He said, opening the candy and eating some, passing you some as well.

There was definitely some progress made, since y'all are sharing food and actually sitting down on your bed next to each other. And the insults decreased slightly.

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

"I think he's the killer, what do you think?" You asked, taking some candy out of the bag.

"I agree, he's creepy as fuck. He looks like he about to jump through the screen and slice me."

He laughed, looking at you.

He kept his stare going for at least 10 seconds,

"What?" You asked, rubbing your face, thinking you had candy on you.

"You know I don't hate you right?" He asked, pulling the cover around him more.

You sat in silence before answering.

"Then why did you tease me, bully me and all that shit since we met." you questioned, taking some candy from the handful that you had.

"Because I like you" he mumbled, secretly hoping you didn't hear, even though he wanted you to know.

"You serious?" you asked, kinda scared he was just trying to fuck with you.

He laughed.

"Girl if I bully you for that long without giving up, I'm pretty fucking sure I'm serious. Is it bad that I like you?" He said, starting to get insecure.

You had a smile that could just make him cry and shook your head. before grabbing his hand.

He stared some more before leaning his head on your shoulder, pulling the cover over the two of you.

He just wanted to lay with you, maybe Buck should do this more often.

#dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston x reader #sodapop headcanons #johnny cade #johnny cade headcanons #johnny cade x reader #sodapop x reader #ponyboy curtis #ponyboy headcanons #ponyboy x reader

227 notes · View notes

holocene-sims · 12 days

Text

next // previous

september 1, 2021 5:00 p.m. newcrest hospital

[five hours later]

[dr. winters] so, you’re an interesting case.

[grant] don’t i know it?

[dr. winters] fortunately, the excellent news here is that your physical exam is overall outstanding.

[dr. winters] all your blood work and vitals are great, your eyesight’s correctable to normal, and you have no other underlying disease besides the autoimmune stuff.

[dr. winters] disclaimer that you should lay off the cigarettes, but...

[dr. winters] still, based on these factors, i see no real reason to deny your medical on physical grounds. the MRI of your spine was very concerning, but i did read the letter from your rheumatologist clearing you for work again, and you passed all my exams just fine, so it’s not an issue in my eyes unless your disease and/or functioning significantly worsen.

[grant] well, that’s...good?

[dr. winters] not so fast. don't get too excited. as much as i'd like to send you out with your medical today, i can’t.

[grant] alright. fair enough.

[dr. winters] i'm not denying you, to be clear. i'm deferring your case to federal administration.

[dr. winters] this is the unfortunate part. because you suddenly admitted to having previous substance abuse issues, have brand new mental health diagnoses, and are on some medications that are neither approved nor banned, it’s out of my hands.

[dr. winters] you would need a special issuance medical, which is only something the administration can give out.

[dr. winters] if you’re granted one, it is a full first-class medical and will clear you to fly and hopefully approve your current medications with no issues, but it will tag you as having health conditions, and it’ll probably place restrictions on your medical, like more frequent medical exams and no flying if you’re having x, y, and z symptoms.

[grant] okay, sure. what should i do next?

[dr. winters] well, i'll forward all the paperwork from you to them along with my reports from today. at some point, the administration will send you a whole bunch more paperwork in the mail, and they’ll ask you to explain all your medications, your psychiatric history, and why the hell you were diagnosed with multiple psychiatric disorders all at once and so late in life.

[dr. winters] whatever you say, be as honest as possible. i will gently remind you that lying to them is a felony.

[dr. winters] you’ll mail all your responses back to them, and then they’ll tell you to submit to a neurocognitive screen and a psychiatric evaluation. i can go ahead and refer you to doctors who can offer you those screenings. they'll also want statements from any psychiatrists and therapists you've seen basically confirming they think you're stable enough for this kind of employment.

[dr. winters] and finally, after they review all the new materials plus your flight records, you’ll either get approved or denied.

[grant] there's some hope?

[dr. winters] yes. you have held a medical before. you'll just have to jump through more hoops this time to prove your capabilities. worst case scenario you lawyer up and sue until you get results. and no, i'm not joking. in complex cases like yours, i often recommend a lawyer.

[grant] i don’t want a lawyer.

[dr. winters] at least not yet. don't count the legal route out. the worst worst case scenario is that you're denied. if they deny you and you feel that's unfair, the law is the only solution you have left.

[grant] got it. well, um, thanks for all your help. i guess i'll wait for new paperwork from the administration then. how long should the whole process to take, assuming it all goes smoothly?

[dr. winters] oh, it won't go smoothly. your case will sit on someone’s desk until the file rots or the sun blows up, whichever comes first, unless you call incessantly. so, do that. call, call, and call again until someone does something with it.

[dr. winters] and maybe you’ll get a final decision in...

[dr. winters] six months? a year? hopefully not longer than that.

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 storytelling #simblr #hlcn: everything the stars promised #OOF #longest oof ever #well it's not a no! but it's also not a yes #holocene.docx #holocene.png #hlcn: grant

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meeks-just-wants-to-scroll · 4 months

Note

thank you

kieran is a decent shot but is terrifying with a knife (people are not that different to fish). 110% he would win a 1v1 knife fight every time and thanks to army training he's pretty decent at disarming people in hand on hand combat. would take a knife to a gun fight and have a chance of winning

probably taller than 90% of the gang if he actually corrected his posture

his parents died when he was a proper baby only 8 or 9 and he pick-pocketed to survive along with a bunch of other urchins like the saint denis gang. he's still pretty good at it and is really good at being stealthy/light on his feet despite his stature (helpful for not getting noticed by the crueler VDLs)

he also became a pretty good liar and con artist as part of living on the street and getting out of trouble when caught (this is heavily inspired by how differently he treats gang members, happily tells karen he is a baby to get sympathy, people-pleasing 'whatever you say miss with mary-beth, needles arthur back a bit when they go fishing)

probably has a touch of the old imposter syndrome because he never really had the chance to figure out who he was he's just been focused on survival since since day 1. he loves horses because he doesn't have to worry about what mask he has to wear with them

he's frankly not sure how old he is on account of how young he was when his parents died. he enlisted for the army when he looked old enough, in reality he was probs only 17 and barely got in based on his facial hair, which he had never shaved a day in his life since it started growing (hc late 20s/early 30s in game)

he was in the infantry division. consistent food and routine after a decade of fighting for scraps and being spit on? he loved it. very upstanding, attentive, kept his uniform clean and sharp. was there years before he saw active combat. then he fucking hated it. refused to follow orders. was not dying over land. was not shooting at unarmed people. dishonorably discharged. would have deserted if they didn't.

looks like an absolute fucking baby without facial hair and would sooner bite someone than be clean shaven because he hates it

gets very irritable when he hasn't had a cigarette for a while. has picked cigarette butts of the ground for a quick hit. would have broken faster about six point cabin if they offered him a cigarette.

lying through his teeth about his time with the o'driscolls. he was probably with them closer to a year, and a little higher than bottom-rung. got to pick and choose what missions he went on, talk to colm directly, most knew his name ect. i cannot see him having the balls to argue with colm o'driscoll himself unless he had some level of protection/seniority within the gang esp given the circumstances of how he joined. he was trusted enough to ride off on his own without running off?

in saying that. he was definitely considering running off in colter. at no point does he try to fight arthur. no way he wasn't armed. just oh no i am being abducted this is v bad. don't give me food for weeks? still like you more than colm can i stay with you pls

AHHH!!! I READ THIS THE DAY YOU SENT IT BUT I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO RESPOND BECAUSE I WASN’T REALLY EXPECTING PEOPLE TO ACTUALLY SEND IN THEIR HEADCANONS, THANK YOU THESE ARE WONDERFUL!

:D You explained these all beautifully and I feel like I couldn’t say much more, but I’ll try to “yes and…” everything you said because I feel it is worth exploring these ideas you proposed. Long HC ramble under the divider.

1) I don’t know much about 1800’s military training but I can see Kieran being a knife guy like you said. He has a custom knife in game (at the very least he has a custom pistol). Him being good with a knife makes me think of how he comes off as unarmed from a distance but harbors a wicked knife up close. I am sure he mainly uses his knife for cutting fishing line or whittling sticks in his free time. He used it for cutting up animals he hunted while with his past gang. That knife has gotten him through a lot, it’s practically an heirloom at this point; it kept him alive and is one of the few things he fully owns and kept from his youth.

2+3+4) lanky scary guy is stealthy!! Yes!! I would like to mention how no one in the VDL gang noticed Kieran wandering off and getting a gun belt from a corpse during the firefight in A Social Call Mission. He did all of that AND was swift enough to save Arthur. I agree that he was very young when his parents died. I more so think 11-13 in my HC but that’s just because I feel like the stables would rather kick out a tween/teen than a little kid. This blends into your 4th point about being a con artist. Kieran knows his strengths and weaknesses. He knows that people see a scrawny little boy before they see him as a thief. Squirming and squabbling can be enough of a distraction to get away with things.

I don’t have a good explanation for how Kieran did this since he can’t leave camp, but while I was playing, I saw Kieran donated a jewel necklace to the camp funds (and not to brag on his behalf, but he donated WAY MORE $$ than the other members 🤭). Kieran still can pull his weight in pickpocketing, even in game. I imagine he does it without straying too far from camp by pretending he is sick or hungry and thirsty on the side of well traveled paths and getting close enough to strangers to swipe something. It’s subtle enough to not draw attention to camp, yet effective enough to be worth it in the long run.

5+6) I agree on imposter syndrome! One hc I have is that Kieran was raised an only child while traveling westward to California with his parents meaning he had no consistent kids his age to be with. Even in the military (where he SHOULD be surrounded by his peers) he never really connected in a genuine way. Being roughened up by being an outlaw after that just made it harder to emotionally connect since so much required not breaking down if a group member dies. It’s odd; Kieran is unwilling to be vulnerable, but he isn’t this stoic wall. Instead he has this decoy vulnerability?… he’d rather people see him as a weak guy if it gets him out of a physical hurt yet he won’t be vulnerable if it means running the risk of being emotionally hurt.

7) I know very little about 1800’s military (and my cursory research has been shallow thus far) but I imagine it was better than being homeless and orphaned! Food, shelter and routine, like you said. I imagine Kieran was an obedient and hard working kid; helped his family with horses, fishing and hunting. Pre-outlaw Kieran felt conflicted about killing people. I mean… he joined the army so he isn’t clueless that he had to kill, but killing on paper vs actually killing is very different, plus he was a puny teen without a fully developed brain when he enlisted.

Once Kieran became an outlaw, he had to make some sort of peace / find some silver lining to killing. You have to have morally dubious ways of coping with being an outlaw or else you go mad. One way was him (guiltily or not) finding some thrill in gunfights or knife fights. Made him feel good for once about being an easy to underestimate guy. He got to taunt, shout, and watch his enemies faces contort in pain and horror.

8) the facial hair stuff!! I agree that Kieran likely looks like an exhausted young adult under all the scruff. I imagine Kieran has put value into his unkempt looks. He does care for hygiene (source: he says it in cut audio) but he can’t bring himself to trim his facial or head hair because he feels it is the only thing making him a man. Like you said, imposter syndrome, he doesn’t feel like he’s an actual adult who has his life together. I’m sure Kieran has some out-dated ideas of what makes a man (out-dated by modern day standards). Stuff like being strong, a provider, hairy, deep voiced, etc. Kieran isn’t many of those things. Having a snaggly beard is his tiny grasp on meeting what he wishes he could be. I also think he hasn’t cut his hair that much because of a lack of salons while being an outlaw.

9) I honestly forget most of the characters in RDR2 smoke… but I agree! Growing up with a smoker as a parent who tried to quite cold turkey a few times, I know how hellish withdrawal is on a person. While in Colter, tied up, Kieran was the most bellicose because of withdrawals peaking (upon other things). I feel like some point between his parent’s dying and him joining the outlaws was when he took up smoking.

10+11) Kieran was DEFINITELY lying about how involved he was with the O’Drisc, agreed. I see him as being with them for likely 6 months to a year. Maaayyybe more but I feel like Kieran ran with his prior gang for most of his adult life. To me, Kieran is fibbing a half truth when he says he wasn’t close with Colm and he was merely a stable boy. He WAS that, but with being an obedient, hardworking chore boy, he was kept around long enough to make it up little by little till he was on missions out of camp collecting supplies or defending territory/camp. Kieran was always a pawn, never someone Colm actually cared for. Kieran was just the least-annoying gang goon Colm could bring into the mountains to watch the horses in the cold stables. The fact Kieran was even spotted by the VDL gang was bad luck.

I don’t know why he is riding out of the camp solo before Arthur catches him ;-; my best guess would be Kieran was going to meet up with other members but when a fight with the O’Drisc vs VDL broke out in camp, Kieran took it as his chance to get the fuck out of there.

On the topic of getting the fuck out, Kieran didn’t fight as much as he could when Arthur got him, I agree. When his life depends on it, he will fight like a cornered animal, all knife slashing and wild-eyed. Whether Kieran fights or goes limp and pleads pathetically depends on the situation. When Kieran fled from the O’Drisc camp firefight, he knew he wouldn’t last out there unless he got off the mountain. Being snatched and dragged to an enemy camp was better than dying of exposure. I mean… everything in his life sucks. Kieran gets no easy options. Sometimes he just has to go limp and be tied up and see where life brings him.

His relationship with Colm is interesting. I don’t think Colm cares very much about Kieran (keep in mind I don’t actually know Colm’s character well since I haven’t finished the game). From what Kieran describes of him, I feel it was all things Kieran observed or eavesdropped on while doing chores or sitting around the camp. Who knows tho! I am open to the idea that Kieran was of higher rank and indeed had more reasons to talk with Colm directly. I don’t know much about the O’Driscoll gang inner workings.

Ah!! Once again, thank you so much :) I love all your headcanons and it was a blast brainstorming about your ideas.

#meeks rambles #asks #meek’s headcanons #rdr text post #rdr2 kieran #rdr2 headcanons #red dead redemption fandom #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #kieran duffy #rdr2 spoilers #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 community #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 #ask

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hypnoneghoul · 2 months

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how does it feel to be evil also please please please tell me more about lying dewy ? <3 (no pressure of course but OUGHH i love that headcanon so much)

being evil is so cool actually i love havin power heh

and im glad you liked that hc! more rambles under the cut

cw for self inflicted injury

i mentioned dewdrop lying about small, irrelevant things just because he has to, because he can't help it, but it doesn't mean he doesn't lie about big things, too

he can fuck up bad if he just twists one word when a tech asks him something on tour

it brings him sort of sick satisfaction when that happens, he's disgusted by himself but he feels powerful in a way

it becomes sort of self-harm for him at some point. he can and will lie in a way that will hurt him, so the consequences will influence him. he thinks that if he must be a filthy liar that hurts his loved ones he deserves to hurt because of those lies too

think him telling the costume people that his balaclava's fabric is light and breathable enough and that his collar isn't too tight just so he can choke and barely be able to breathe during the rituals. small lie but it makes him hurt nonetheless and he revels in that ache in his chest and throat

his lies are also like thread being weaved together to create a shroud under which he can hide. he uses smaller and bigger lies together to create an image of himself that he feels like he has to be, but isn't

other people simply act differently, they just mask some of their truest colors to fit in or be more likable, but dewdrop takes it...too seriously, I'd say

most of the things don't matter but he aches with the need to lie about them, as if the ground will open up under him and swallow him if he lets a thing as simple as truth fall from his lips. he doesn't want to lie, but he has to, and he always realizes he's lied just seconds too late

one time he fucks up real bad. his lie makes rain hurt himself and dewdrop crumbles

"isn't the stage too slippery for your ghoul boots?" someone asked

"no." dewdrop told them, even though he slipped twice just walking across it. if he said yes the roadies had ways of making the surface bettter, but he didn't

and because of him rain slipped and hurt himself bad enough that they needed to cut the show short

even though its a disorder and all the ghouls do their best to be understanding, that time they snapped. especially swiss, he yelled at dew so much that the fire ghoul spent the night curled into a tiny ball shaking in a cabinet under the sink on the tour bus

the next morning dew emerged after all of his pack has already left. he didn't plan it but just when he was crawling out he saw a fresh pack of cigarettes laying on the counter

his throat was already feeling sore because of all his crying. his anxiety would help, chainsmoking a whole pack too. one more thing he could add...

he got an idea

he got out of the bus after downing a few shots of tequilla. alcohol dries out vocal chords. he smoked all the cigarettes one by one. then, he put his hands around his neck in the unsafest way he could come up with and squeezed

it hurt like hell but he was still making damn noise

he looked around and noticed the bus was parked far away from anything else. there was no one around so he could just scream. he still used a pillow for muting but he screamed and screamed and he started tasting blood but finally, finally, the noise just...cut off

he didn't know how long the vocal cord paralysis would last with him being a ghoul

but he hoped it'd stay

#pathological liar dewdrop hc #also im not sure about the medical aspects dont get me for it #but as far as im aware both mental and psychical trauma can cause vocal cord paralysis #so lets go with that #hypnone's asks #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #dewdrop ghoul #hypnone's hcs #cw sh

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rebelwrites · 4 months

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Nineteen: You Got Her Singing Again!

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off Masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

The morning air was still, the sun was starting to creep up over the horizon and the birds were singing away. There was nothing I wanted more than to stay in bed with the gorgeous man that was currently sound asleep but my stupid internal clock had to screw things up.

“Couldn’t sleep in either?” Jax mumbled, sinking down onto the space next to me on the outdoor sofa, offering me a smoke.

“To be honest my body just hates me at this point,” I sighed, resting my head on Jax’s shoulder as I lit the cigarette, “I was thinking.”

“That’s dangerous,” he interrupted, causing me to jab him in his ribs.

“I was thinking about doing something we haven’t done in a while, family breakfast,” I said smiling to myself, watching the smoke float into the air, “I feel it's gonna be a good day today.”

“Pancakes?”

“Duh!”

A brief silence fell over the two of us, I could hear the cogs whirring in Jax’s mind. There was something he wanted to say but was holding back, “spit it out,” I whispered, moving so I was now leaning against the arm of the sofa, tucking my feet underneath my thighs, “don’t you dare say it’s nothing because I can smell your brain burning.”

“It’s about Juice,” his voice was extremely low, like he was afraid I was going to flip out on him again.

Taking a deep breath, I knew I couldn’t avoid this conversation forever, “you said we fucked up with him?”

“It’s not just with him, Nova. It’s with everyone, the club, the businesses, everything,” Jax sighed, running his hand over his face before taking a long drag of his cigarette, “we have just had so much going on this past year we kinda forgot to take a look around us. We weren’t the only ones running ourselves into the ground.”

His words shocked me but more for the fact I knew he was right. It had been staring us right in the face all along. Everyone showed signs of being exhausted when they came into the bar or they blew off dinner plans. Taking a deep breath I finally looked up at Jax, the guilt was written all over his face, reaching over I took his hand squeezing it softly.

“There's one more thing as well,” he paused, running his hands over his face, it was like he was afraid to tell me. He stilled for a moment, looking up at the sky before taking a deep breath, “the weed shop is in Juice’s name.”

“That sneaky bastard,” I half laughed, part of me was proud that he had managed to pull the wool over our eyes with the ownership, “so what happened in the kitchen yesterday?”

“I don’t know, it was like he just snapped, his gaze was vacant, it was like he was ready to give up on life,” Jax mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest, resting his head on his knees, his fingers tangling in his blonde roots, something he did when he was feeling stressed or was starting to spin out.

Once again it was like the weight of the world was on my shoulders, it was just one thing after another but maybe Jax was right, we needed to hire more staff otherwise we were going to single handedly run everyone into an early grave.

“We will start advertising for positions across all businesses,” I said quietly, looking up at the morning sky, pulling another cigarette from the packet that was lying between me and Jax. “We will get through this, we always do.” Jax flashed me a soft smile, he knew how hard it was for me to accept that we needed to get more bodies on board. For me it was like I was relinquishing all control but deep down I knew this was the right move. “Arrange for the whole club to get their asses here for half 10,” I hummed, changing the subject before taking a long drag of the smoke.

Once I had finished the smoke I checked the time on my phone, the local grocery store was opening soon and if I was going to be throwing one of the famous Teller family breakfast I needed to get supplies in, I wasn’t going to have a repeat of last time when Tig threw a hissy fit because we didn’t have any goddamn grapefruit.

“I’m gonna go raid the shops,” I chuckled, tossing Jax his lighter back.

“Don’t forget Tiggy’s precious grapefruit,” Jax called out to me.

“I don’t have a death wish,” I smirked back, throwing him a wink before I slipped back into the house.

The next couple of hours went by in a blur, the bed of my ratty truck was overflowing with enough food to feed a small army but I knew how much food these boys could put away. My head was spinning, my stomach was churning as I went over everything I was going to say to Juice, I had no idea on what to expect, as long as I didn’t get the door slammed in my face then that was a win in my book.

Releasing my death grip from the steering wheel I took a few deep breaths before climbing out of the truck. I needed to do this, I needed to clear the air. I felt like a hypocrite, I kept telling Pops that Tellers don’t quit on family and here I was quitting on Juice, he was family, not by blood but he was a brother and I wasn’t going to let him fall because we were too focused on the Teller bubble.

I found myself standing on the front step of the apartment, the well worn leather hanging over my arm as I found the courage to knock on the door.

Come on Nova, you can do this.

The moment I reached up the door swung open revealing a topless Juice standing in the doorway, “the fuck do you want?” he growled, narrowing his eyes at me.

“This belongs to you,” I whispered, holding his kutte out, “look, I know you don’t want to see me but I needed to come and apologize,” I was met with silence but that didn’t surprise me. “I get if you don’t want anything to do with the club but this,” I said holding the kutte up higher, “this belongs to you no matter what your decision.”

I held my breath waiting to see what his next move would be, feeling a sense of relief when he took the vest that had been hanging on his shoulder for years.

“What is your game here, Nova?” he asked, cocking his brow at me.

“No game, I swear,” I said, holding my hands up, pausing for a moment to suss out his reaction, taking a deep breath I continued, “I’m not gonna toss you to the curb Juan, I know I fucked up, on a lot of things actually, but I want to make amends. We can keep your shop and the club separate okay.”

The silence I received was deafening, Juice broke eye contact with me, a heavy sigh escaped his lips as he ran his hands over his face. I was normally pretty good at reading peoples expressions but right now I was struggling, he had a fucking good poker face and he knew it.

“I don’t want that,” he said his voice was quiet as he spoke like he was trying to believe his own words, spinning around hanging his kutte on the hook on the wall. I watched intently as he rubbed the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. “I guess I’m just tired, ya know. We have all been running ourselves into the ground trying to keep everything a float.”

Running my hand over my face, “yea, I totally get that, I think,” I sighed, leaning against the brick wall. The small chuckle that escaped his lips provided me with a sense of hope that all wasn’t lost with him. “Do what you need to do, just focus on the weed shop, hire whoever you want and make sure you get some sleep,” I said softly, looking up at the Puerto Rican, “we will figure this out, I promise.”

I didn’t give him a chance to reply before I was walking back towards my truck. Once I had reached the driver’s door I looked back over my shoulder, “oh Ortiz, family breakfast at the house, everyone is getting there for half ten so make sure your ass is present.”

“Jax, we need to talk to El about Pops,” I whispered, placing the last bag down on the floor. I didn’t know how he was going to react, we both knew this was going to be a hard conversation but one that needed to happen.

“Do you think we should do it now?” he asked, slowly closing the fridge as he turned to face me.

“We won’t be able to hide it much longer,” I sighed, running my hand over my face, “I’m surprised she hasn’t said anything about the sticky notes.”

Jax stayed silent, I knew his mind was racing, weighing up the options of how to approach the situation. Flashing me a look I knew it was time, he let out a heavy sigh before he slowly walked out the room. I was hot on his heels as we moved through the house trying to find Elenor.

It didn’t take long to find her, she was with her new favorite human. The sight of her snuggled up with Charles on the sofa caused my heart to skip a beat, although that was quickly replaced by instant heartache knowing how upset she was going to be when he left town.

“Princess, me and Auntie Nova need to speak to you,” Jax whispered, sitting on the edge of the sofa, his face full of sadness, we both knew this wasn’t going to be easy and all three of us would end up in tears by the end.

Charles flashed me a supportive smile as he pressed a kiss to the top of Elenor’s head, his movements were slow, like he knew what was about to happen. I took a deep breath as I watched him leave the room, giving us the space we needed.

“Everything okay, daddy?” she asked, looking up at us with her big blue eyes. She was so innocent, but she was too inquisitive for her own good so it was only a matter of time before she started asking hard questions.

“Poppy isn’t well, baby,” I whispered, taking the space where Charles was sitting not five minutes ago. The moment I sat down I took her small hand in mine, blinking back the tears that were currently blurring my vision, “remember when he called you my name?”

She slowly nodded her head, her eyes darting between Jax and myself, “Poppy is starting to forget things, princess, that is why me and Auntie Nova have put all the colorful notes everywhere.”

I found myself staring up at the ceiling, trying my hardest to stop the tears from spilling over my lashes. I could hear my heart breaking. How the hell do we explain the full extent of Pops’ health condition without completely crushing her in the process.

“Is he going to get better?” she quietly asked.

That was when I felt any resolve I had, crumble into pieces and the tears started flowing down my cheeks, I wrapped my arms around my niece pressing soft kisses to the top of her head. “Unfortunately, not baby,” I whimpered, I wish I could tell her things would get better but there was no point lying to her, it would only make things worse later down the road, “so we just need to give him as much love as possible, okay.”

The three of us sat there, not speaking, the only sound that could be heard was the soft cries coming from the youngest Teller. There was nothing we could do to change the situation, we were dealt a shitty hand of cards but we just needed to stick together as a family, getting through a day at a time. The sound of the living room door opening caused me to look up, standing in the opening Pops had a sad look on his face.

He didn’t say anything as he walked over to us, the air in the room suddenly felt extremely heavy, scooting over on the sofa I let him sit in between me and Elenor. The moment she realized her Poppy was her she threw her arms around him, clinging on for dear life.

“I love all three of you so much,” Pops whispered, his voice cracking with every word he spoke, “no matter what happens, as long as we stick together as a family, we will get through this.”

Elenor finally looked, roughly wiping her eyes with the back of her hands before she jumped off the sofa, scurrying out of the room. I shot Jax a confused look as we heard her footsteps on the stairs, Jax just shrugged back, neither of us knew what she was doing or what was running through her mind.

She reappeared as quickly as she disappeared, only she was clutching something in her arms. “Poppy,” she whimpered as she clambered up onto his knee, “you need Mr lion more than I do.” Her words were like someone had plunged a knife into my heart, the pain spread across my chest as she passed her stuffed toy over, “he will look after you and make you feel better, like he makes me feel better when I’m not feeling well.”

I couldn’t take it any more, I slowly found myself pushing myself to my feet, I was on autopilot right now as I made my way outside. I needed a moment to gather my thoughts, the moment I stepped out onto the decking my knees gave out causing me to drop to the floor.

I had no idea how long I had been sitting there sobbing my heart out but I felt a sudden warmth wrap around me. I didn’t need to look up to know who had joined me, the feeling of sparks shooting through my body told me exactly who it was and for once I wasn’t afraid of letting him see me so vulnerable.

“I’m here Sunshine,” Charles whispered, gently running his hands through my hair, “I’ve got you, let it all out.”

“Seriously, if you don’t want your head bitten off, stay out of the kitchen,” Pierre mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck looking like a child that had just been scolded, “I knew Nova was a feisty one but damn.”

Charles didn’t miss the knowing smirk on Jax’s face, “dude, I could have told you that, one of the many rules with my sister is do not mess with her, or even try to help in the kitchen,” he paused for a moment, letting his fingers wrap around the hem of his hoodie, he slowly pulled the material up.

“Jackie boy, come on man you are gonna put me off my coffee,” the Scotsman groaned, “I do not need to see your stupid abs this early in the day or without a strong drink.”

“You don’t normally complain, babe,” Jax smirked, blowing Chibs a kiss causing everyone around the table to laugh, “but I wasn’t just flashing my body, this is proof that you don’t mess with my sister whilst she is cooking,” he pulled the hoodie up further revealing a four inch scar, “apparently I was doing something wrong but I think she just wanted an excuse to stab me.”

It was like Nova knew Jax was talking about her because she instantly strolled out of the kitchen with flour smeared across her cheeks, the sight caused Charles’ heart to skip a beat, “if you don’t shut your face I will give you a matching one on the other side,” she said with a straight face.

“Pops, tell her,” Jax whined, with a giant smirk on his face.

“I swear, I will bash the pair of your heads together soon,” JT groaned, glaring at both of these kids before taking a sip of his coffee.

There was a familiar buzz in the air, it was something Charles felt when he spent time with his family, it made him feel like he was home. Everyone around this table had truly accepted him and welcomed both him and Pierre in with open arms.

As quick as Nova appeared, she disappeared back into the kitchen, Charles found himself getting lost in his thoughts. This girl was one he could see the rest of his life with, he didn’t want anyone else by his side.

“Uncle Charles,” Elenor said quietly, resting her small hand on his cheek, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Yes, Ellie-bear,” he smiled, looking down at the small girl that had settled on his lap.

“Thank you for making Auntie Nova sing again,” she beamed.

“Yeah man, I have no idea how you managed it but you deserve a medal or something,” Tig hummed, leaning forward on his elbows, “what’s your secret?”

“No secret,” Charles shrugged, “I don’t even think I have done anything,” He paused, looking over Tig’s shoulders looking towards the kitchen. The sounds of Nova’s voice was the only thing he was focusing on, it was something he could listen to for the rest of his life.

He stayed quiet as he wrapped his arms around Elenor’s waist, lifting her up so he could stand before placing her back down on the seat, “look after my seat, little bear,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against the top of her head.

Ignoring everyone he made his way into the kitchen, there was a question he was dying to ask and he couldn’t wait any longer. There was no way this was just a summer fling anymore, the feelings he had for Nova were real. No matter what he knew they could make the long distance work, their connection was too strong.

His heart fluttered as he walked into the kitchen watching his girl buzz around making sure everything was perfect. “Besoin d'aide, Sunshine ? Need help, Sunshine?” he hummed, wrapping his arms around Nova’s waist, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Non, mais je prendrai un baiser. No, but I'll take a kiss,” she giggled, turning around so she was now facing him. Her hands instantly wrapped around his neck as she closed the gap between them. The moment their lips connected, the whole world felt right again. It was official Charles had found the missing piece he didn’t know he was searching for. He couldn’t think straight as Nova deepened the kiss, he didn’t care she was probably getting flour all over him. The two of them were lost in their own little world so they didn’t realize that Jax had walked into the kitchen.

“Fucking hell, Squirt!” Jax shouted, causing the two of them to jump apart from each other, “didn’t you hear the smoke alarm going crazy,” he scolded, frantically waving a hand towel around the device on the ceiling trying to dissipate the smoke from around it.

Charles didn’t know how to act, Jax had just caught them in a full make out session and in turn caused Nova to burn the last few pancakes. He stood there awkwardly hoping that Jax wouldn’t lay into him.

“Too busy making out with lover boy, you burnt the goddamn pancakes,” Jax huffed, leaning against the worktop folding his arms across his chest.

“It’s the last one, it's fine,” Nova hummed, throwing her hand in the air before crouching down pulling a tray out stacked with pancakes and bacon out of the oven, “now get out of my kitchen, asswipe!”

The moment she swapped the tray for a knife Jax quickly scurried out of the room once again leaving Charles alone with Nova. He let out a shaky breath and ran his hand over the back of his neck, “be my girl?” he blurted out, it wasn’t how he planned, he had this whole speech planned but instead the words slipped out before he could stop them.

Nova slowly turned around, her eyes as round as the dinner plates that were laid on the side. Suddenly Charles felt a wave of nausea wash over him, had he asked too soon? It felt like an eternity before she spoke, “say that again, Leclerc,” she said softly, as a huge smile started to creep on her face.

“Be. My. Girl,” he said between each step he took. The moment he was close enough he rested his hands on her hips, “I don’t want anyone else, I know we have only known each other for a few weeks but in such a short amount of time you have set my world on fire and I don’t want to extinguish the flame,” he whispered, brushing his nose against Nova’s. “Tu es celui qu'il me faut, Nova Teller. You're the one for me, Nova Teller.”

“God, I love that sound of that,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his as she spoke, “your girl.”

“Squirt, where the hell is the food?” Jax’s voice boomed from outside.

“Way to ruin a moment, asshole!”

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @burningcupcakefire @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

#charles leclerc #Charles Leclerc x oc #charles leclerc x reader #Charles Leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 #f1 x oc #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy x reader

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1-800-whatwouldbillydo · 1 year

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Dissecting Character Scenes: Billy Hargrove

*I say that like he’s not the only character I analyze lmfao- anyway*

His Hand Movements

The above movement is what I do when:

I’m nervous. For one, it helps me calm down. Since anxiety is essentially unwanted energy, it helps deal with me being an overcharged energizer bunny by using that energy in a non-harmful way.

I get too in my head, and I need to ground myself.

I’m thinking.

I’m about to talk to someone or do something. When you overthink, or when you have a lot on your mind, even talking to people is something you feel like you need some preparation for. Especially when you’re in a completely different environment, and you have to start over.

I need to remember something, like the “script”. What am I going to say to Person A? What are they going to do? How are they going to respond? How should I respond? These scripts are like mental teleprompters. I play numerous scenarios in my head, and I prepare a bunch of responses to them, whether it’s physical or verbal. It’s an internal peptalk. Sometimes you cancel out the responses that you don’t think will apply, and you zero in on what you’re going with. Needless to say, it takes some time to always do this, which you aren’t always offered.

When you live with an unpredictable abuser, you’re walking on eggshells. It can require you to apply extreme control over your tone, your volume, your facial expression, and your words. They nitpick at everything you say, so you learn to think before you talk. You have to take a step back somehow, collect yourself, and keep a level head, which is hard in an environment like that.

The impressions other people have of you can get you in trouble with your abuser. Whether you’re late for a class or you don’t turn in an assignment, the last thing you want is for someone to call your abuser.

They count on you to mess up somehow, so they have a “justification” to punish you. If you talk back or raise your voice, they can see this as a green light, because they’re making you react. And your reaction, no matter what, will probably piss them off.

So, thinking things through, including your tone of voice and what comes out of your mouth, are things you tend to pick up in that sort of environment.

Scene #2

How am I going to handle this?

That’s what I find myself asking when I find myself in an unknown situation where I need to measure my response. The unknown tends to be borderline suspicious. Sure, living with someone like Neil can make you paranoid, but you’ve got some built in red flags in your court. You pick up things that others may not. To you, it’ll probably be common sense. In this situation, it IS common sense for Billy to be suspicious of Steve.

Flying off the handle immediately isn’t Billy’s style. It takes a considerable amount of control to even talk to Steve. Neil had shaken him up, and then Billy dealt with Karen. Now he’s having to deal with Steve lying to him about where Max is. But he uses force as a last resort. So much happened to him before this particular scene, that he was most likely a bundle of emotions and anxiety by the time he drove up to the Byers’ house.

While the audience knew what was going on, Billy didn’t. The fact that he actually tried to talk to Steve shows that he didn’t want for there to be a fight. He just wanted to get Max home.

“I don’t understand” is quite literally his theme all throughout his life. The entire time he was in Hawkins, he did not understand what was going on.

@ickypuppi3 pointed out that he fidgets so much with his fingers, like that scene with Max in the car at school when he’s holding his cigarette. The anxiety really comes through when he’s about to do something.

Scene #3

Like in this scene, where he’s prepping to face Neil, who’s banging on his door, signaling that he’s in a hotheaded mood. How Neil’s “temperature” is will indicate what Billy’s reaction will be. Here, he has to face Neil’s heat with as much of a cool head as he can. He also knows that no matter what he does, Neil will blow a gasket.

GIF credit to @suledins

#when your blorbos are already so much like you that self-projection is bullshit #Dissecting Character Scenes #ch: billy hargrove #character analysis #neil hargrove #billy hargrove #billy deserved better #billy hargrove character analysis #billy hargrove deserved better #tw mentions of abuse #just in case #every-dayiwakeup #i am once again spreading my 'billy thinks things through and has more patience than people give him credit for' agenda #if you see any errors #no no you dont ✨️✨️✨️

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ashlingiswriting · 10 months

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do i know you? chapter six

[ 3.8k words ] [ prev chapters: one, two, three, four, five ] [ masterlist ] "maybe i just need to say something to you? get it out of my system?" richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn

by the time you get downstairs and push through the doors, you’re clutching that note like it’s a talisman of protection. richie looks up at the sound, and for a second, neither of you are pretending a thing. you’re so fucking happy to see him, you let it shine. he does too.

he looks dead tired but all right. the only new thing is a takeout bag from the beef sitting on the ground next to him, presumably some leftovers for a late night snack.

yo, he says, loud and hearty.

hello hello, you say. look what the cat killed, ate, and shat out on my doorstep.

he grins. you’re looking like a real vulture buffet yourself.

thanks.

yeah. he rubs his jaw with his knuckles. sorry i missed yesterday. i was busy getting arrested.

you freeze for a split second. then your brain catches up and you pretend that it’s fine, though you know it’s too little too late.

wow, congratulations, you say, a touch loudly. who’d you kill?

for that, he barks out a way bigger laugh than you think your lazy joke deserves. his laugh frays at the edges and he runs his hand over his hair, which makes you nervous, but you don’t press. you have time.

it’s more about who i didn’t kill, he eventually says. and, hey. he touches his own chest with exaggerated innocence. i was being a good boy. i was sticking by carmy like you said. but what do you know? kid couldn’t protect me for shit.

if carmy ever took a punch for your sake, you’d throw a level five tropical storm about it right in the middle of river north, you say, and he makes a little scoffing sound that confirms you’re right. was it the bachelor party?

yeah. barely a fight, you know those white collar criminals can’t punch for shit.

you consider him openly, failing to find any bruises on his face or neck, knowing that most of his body is covered up. your own head is so full of buzzing that you can’t really run a lie detector on his claims.

let me see your hands, you say.

you’re about to demonstrate, when you remember you’re still holding the note. quickly, you shove it in your pocket, then hold out both your hands in front of you, knuckles up. he takes off his gloves, shoves them in his pocket, and mirrors you.

the first thing you notice is a lack of cuts and bruises, but your eyes linger long past that discovery because you’ve never had a chance to stare at his hands before and you probably won’t get one again. his fingers are longer than you expected, a little reddened in the cold. no big scars, but a few little ones, what you’d expect from a line cook. the ghost of a fading burn licks the inside of his right arm.

silently, you turn your own hands palm-up, and he does too.

there’s no cuts or bruises here either, no defensive wounds. he could be pretending to be okay, but there’s no lying to you like this. the body always tells.

under the winter-pale insides of his wrists, you can see the veins running blue.

do they pass inspection? he says quietly.

you stick your own hands back in your pockets and say, derisively, do you ever fucking wash them?

he snorts. you sound like carmy. not bothering to put his gloves back on, he gets out his first cigarette of the night and lights it.

what’s the charge? you say.

aggravated assault. lawyer says he can negotiate down to probation, cause it was pretty much the other guy’s fault and i don’t have a ton of priors.

you lift an eyebrow at him. how many is not a ton?

enough, he says, playing it with such exaggerated nonchalance that he’s just begging for a smackdown.

very cool of you, you say, stretching out the first word like it’s taffy.

he just shakes his head, smiling. shut up, you goody two shoes. can’t fuckin believe i brought you spaghetti.

spaghetti from the beef? you spent the last twenty-four hours tossed around like a rag doll in an emotional hurricane of your own making, there’s no way you make it past the first bite without some kind of a public breakdown.

i’m not hungry, but thanks, you say. i thought carmy axed the spaghetti, anyway. wasn’t that like one of the opening battles of world war beef?

many a village was destroyed, yeah, richie says, but he made it for family, so i guess he’s admitting defeat long after the fact. and not a moment too fucking soon, i can tell you that.

and out comes the whole story, the tomato cans, cicero’s three hundred grand, and the joint dream carmy will be carrying on by himself. the reason the beef closed early and won’t reopen tomorrow.

when richie tells you the beef is over, he looks a little nervous, but the truth is: you don’t give a damn. if the beef died, that’d be whatever. but if it died and it took richie and carmy down with it, yeah, you’ve spent some time thinking on that. so you’re glad, now, that it won’t happen, and richie’s so wholeheartedly relieved, you really mean it when you say, i’m happy for you guys.

marcus and syd are back too, he says, and his relief is palpable. though as human resources, candidly speaking—

you’re laughing already. oh, this is gonna be good.

i’m just saying, i don’t know if we should let syd back in, given that—

abruptly, richie goes silent and eyes you speculatively.

what? you weird little man. truly. what?

are you gonna be normal about this? he says reprovingly, a poor imitation of a severe teacher.

no, i’m gonna throttle you till you go cross-eyed, you say promptly. what’d you do to her?

do to her? he splutters. what’d she do to me?

i don’t know, something completely justified?

one inch. he holds up thumb and forefinger an inch apart, like you don’t know what basic units of distance are.

what’s that, the length i’m about to cut off your dick?

no! what are you—she accidentally—he puts his hands up like you're aiming a weapon at him. she stabbed me. which i’m cool about, obviously, he says, as if he’s doing syd a huge favor. i’m a very cool guy.

he’s being so tremendously weird about this, you don’t get it at first, but at the same time he’s being so tremendously richie that it only takes a couple seconds to work it out. when you do, you almost laugh in his face. cause on one hand, there’s his natural desire to whine and moan and make a meal out of the situation, and on the other hand, there’s his (maybe a little bit reasonable) fear that you’d lose it if you thought he was actually hurt bad.

so fuck it. you play the part, you stay blank-faced for longer than you need to.

the blade went in one inch deep, you say.

like, inch and a half, tops.

this shit is fucking hysterical.

okay, you say, in a calm, measured voice. where’d she stab you?

in the kitchen, obvi—

where on your body, idiot.

he mutters it, the wind picks up at the wrong moment, and you can’t hear.

what?

in the ass! he yells.

that fucking cracks you right open—you can’t survive that one, not even for the sake of a joke. staring at him, voice pitching higher with incredulous glee, you say, what?

she stabbed me in the ass, he repeats sullenly, having realized that you were playing him all along. as you try to cut in, he just keeps raising his voice in a sour, vain effort to try and bully you into shutting up: and i think, as the person ultimately responsible for ensuring the HEALTH AND SAFETY OF THE ENTIRE STAFF—

all the while, you’re raising your voice too, not willing to let him shout you down: well, i think we should give syd a five star vacation AND A FUCKING MEDAL!

you both stop at the same time, stare at each other mulishly.

whatever, says richie. those three syllables are so full of disgusted offense that you crack up in peals of laughter, and he relaxes. in his normal voice, he says, she’ll get her michigan star soon enough. that’s practically the same as a medal.

i know you know it’s michelin, asshole.

that’s what i said, michelin.

you’re such a fucking child.

shaking your head, fond and exhausted, you pull a pack of cigarettes from your pocket. you've forgotten about the note you stuffed in there, so it gets dislodged by the movement, and as it slips out, the wind plucks it away and sends it flying. fuck.

richie lurches forward and snatches the paper out of the air.

what’s this? he says.

if only the fucking wind had carried it away.

nothing, never mind, you say, trying to grab the note from his hands.

nothing’s nothing, he says, turning away so you end up swiping uselessly at his back.

for fuck’s sake, you sigh. an admission of defeat.

there’s a fifty percent chance you’re well and truly fucked, depending on which side of the paper he looks at, and there's nothing you can do to improve your odds. all you can do is get out that cigarette and concentrate on looking as impenetrable as possible.

eventually, richie speaks.

the girl who loved wild horses, fables by lobel, the polar express, he says. are these movies?

they’re picture books, you say, hugely relieved, even grateful. your first piece of good luck all week, and it turned out to be a big one.

picture books? i’m on chapter books now, richie says. mrs. lowell says i might even be able to read harry potter by the end of the year if i start now.

no, dumbass. those are for you to read to eva.

oh. he keeps on scanning down the list. we actually have madeline already. she loves that shit. probably be reading chapter books herself any day now.

it never fails to tickle you, how much he believes that eva can do anything whenever she wants. he adores her so much, it bends his perception of the possible.

richie, you say indulgently, she’s five.

she’s almost six.

that’s still five. anyways, they’re really good, all the books i listed. most of them are caldecott winners. i remember my dad used to look for the little gold circle.

from the way he looks up at you, there’s no way his missed the first mention of your father. but, in a gesture of surprising grace, he just says, caldecott, what’s that?

it’s an award for kid’s books. only one winner every year.

he makes a face, and you have to laugh. partly from leftover relief, and partly because, richie, you’re such a fucking snob. it just means they’re good books, okay? you think i’d steer you wrong? only the best for eva.

always. he looks at the list again, a little puzzled, and finally says, thanks.

yeah, course, you say, experiencing a kind of joy that only thieves and liars get to experience: getting away with it. and you do, you almost get away with it, except that he folds up the note and sees your handwriting on the other side of the paper.

what’s this? he says.

don’t—

it’s too late.

just please don’t be a dick about this, you mutter as he reads. it might be the first time you’ve ever used the word please with him as anything other than sarcasm. you take one last long drag, then you stub out your cigarette, ready to flee if necessary.

is this for me? he finally says.

yeah, but—

did i scare you or something? he’s looking keenly at you now, you can feel it. you don’t dare look up.

no, you say. i scared me. god, how can you even begin to explain this? do you remember when you talked to me about that poem?

the caterpillar, he says.

yeah.

when you wrote those three sentences, you thought they were all you needed, but it’s so obvious to you now that even an essay wouldn’t be enough. you rub your forehead.

i think, you say, so quietly that the words are nearly deniable, maybe i just need to say something to you? get it out of my system?

yeah, says richie, subdued. shoot.

thanks. um. you rub your forehead for a second. look, all i know is that i can’t tell the future. like, with. it feels almost physically wrong, that have to force one of his names out, the one that richie will recognize. with mikey. i didn’t know. if i knew, i would’ve…

you look at him helplessly.

richie is looking back at you with the steady gaze of the only other person who actually fucking gets it.

nobody fuckin knew, he says.

you thought that looking back at him would be like touching a hot stove, but instead it feels like a lifeline, and you hold on as you keep talking, fumbling with your words, hesitant and slow. his blue eyes never flicker, never waver once. he is listening to you like the rest of the world has gone silent, like you’re the only one left, and you can feel every ounce of that weight.

i don’t know what’s gonna happen, is what i’m saying? it comes out of you like a question. and i think, maybe because you’re his, my brain got some signals mixed up. like, i can’t stop—

at the moment of decision, you find that you’d rather never see him again than tell him about the dreams. looking down at the concrete, you try to figure out something to say that you can live with.

there’s nothing. you end up saying something you need to say, whether or not you can live with it.

if you could just. you say. like, just…just fucking tell it to me, i’ll be good.

you have never had to put it into words before, and hearing yourself makes you feel so insane and abject and shitty and so fucking laughable, this must be some kind of dream. how the fuck did you get here.

the words on the note are: i’m sorry. i wish i was better at this. i want you to be okay.

you can hear the footsteps as richie comes closer: one, two, three. he’s close enough to touch you if he wanted to. you don’t want that. you don’t know what you want, except for this to be over, and you don’t know why you thought that putting out your cigarette would somehow make you able to leave. you’re holding perfectly still.

well, good news and bad news, richie says. a little quiet, but not precious. nearly conversational.

yeah? you say, soft.

bad news is i’m not suicidal, he says evenly, so you were wrong about that.

you’re so fucking overwhelmed, you can’t even begin to read him. and you certainly don’t know whether or not to believe him. it’s crazy: he says it perfectly, exactly what you wanted to hear, i’m not suicidal, and yet it brings no relief.

okay, you say woodenly. what’s the good news?

good news is i got that, uh, anxiety and depression—he over-articulates both diagnoses, an-xi-e-ty, and, de-pre-ssion—so you were right about that shit. he pauses. kinda shocked you figured it out, actually. nobody else has, unless i pop a xan right in front of them.

you look up.

bottom line? he says. the cadence is still conversational, but his blue eyes are so fucking sincere. i got eva and carm and a whole lot of enemies i don’t wanna give the satisfaction. i’m not giving up on any of them.

you try to give him a small smile. he deserves a whole lot more, but this is all you’ve got.

you don’t believe me, he says.

how the fuck does he know?

i don’t know what i think, you say. you got me all turned around.

deliberately, without taking his eyes off you, richie steps closer. he’s done this before, crowded you, gotten so close that he’s your whole world, but before it was always a challenge you had to stand up to and now it’s something else. it’s not an invasion, it’s an offer. he’s never been well-armored, especially not against you, but standing there and looking at you like that, he might as well be naked. you can smell him, sweat and fryer oil. his presence is so palpable it feels like hands on your face.

he repeats, you don’t believe me? and it feels like a promise.

you’re on dry land now. no more footholds, no more fear of slipping and falling. you can lay down here. you can rest.

you take it.

okay, you say.

with one last look, he steps away. you’re almost tempted to follow or ask him to stay, but that would be complicated, so you just lean against the wall next to him and light up another cigarette. savor that, and the piercing clarity of a dark night so cold that its clouds can’t even shed snow.

guess it’s my turn to ask you not to be a dick about this, richie says eventually.

no, i’m glad you did it, you say, and you mean it. getting medication, a diagnosis, all of it. i think it’s really good.

thanks, he says. i just meant, like, don’t be a dick about this new thing i’m about to say.

you look over and try to guess what fresh hell this is gonna be, but you also keep the door open to the possibility that this is a joke.

well, what are you gonna say? cause being a dick is kind of in my nature.

can you make an effort?

sure, you say, a little cautiously.

richie stubs out his cigarette.

i want you to be okay too, you know? he says, looking over to prove his sincerity with his eyes, and then looking back out at the street. you’re not wrong, right, i am actually fucking depressed, but like. it only took you one day to decide that something bad had happened to me.

this is so fucking unfair.

bad things happen all the time, you have no idea, you say.

his voice rises. i have no idea?

no, i didn’t— in your defense, you were thinking of a shadowed factory floor when you said it. that’s not a defense you can make, though, so you just say, i didn’t mean that.

richie accepts that, or at least he goes on.

it’s not just tonight, he says. sometimes the way you look at me, or the stuff you won’t talk about. secret agent aside, like. it’s so much, man.

god, the way he’s saying it, he’s been thinking about this for a while. on some level, you always thought that you were looking at him through a one-way mirror, always thought you were the one doing the seeing. you have no idea what to do with the news that you, too, were being seen.

he says, are you okay?

well? are you?

uh, yeah. you’re all hollowed out, and yet you’re still standing here, fucking talking, and. yeah, no, not really. but, you know, don’t worry about me, cause i got. who is it that you have, again? too much to do. i’m just too fucking busy to kill myself.

after a second, he says, and you got me.

yeah, you say. i got you. it comes out simple, natural. he’s offered it, so you don’t have to make a claim he can reject, and you’ve got no reserves of strength left to fight it either.

you look over at him, and this truth is the closest you’ll get to saying the other one. you say, i don’t wanna smoke without you.

you watch his face as your words land on him, and in some distant chamber of your mind, you think: so that’s what that looks like.

there’s one blessed minute of silence. then richie says, voice a bit thick, so if it’s not depression—

oh, jesus christ. it’s fucking not. you know you can’t just leave it there, because he won’t let you. it’s not because of his persistence—you’re every bit as stubborn as he is—but he wants to understand, and that’s the inescapable thing.

everything is going to shit, you say, after a second. i can feel it happening, but there’s nothing i can do about it. that’s all.

yeah, he says softly, after a second. i know the feeling.

no he doesn’t, but how could he? he’s thinking of the disappearance of the city he loves, the long slow slide from ceres to funeral. you’re thinking of how soon you’ll get what you deserve.

look, i already told you i’m a piece of shit, you say. and that’s it, that’s the whole fucking thing, richie.

yeah, i heard you the first time, he says. and then he says the worst thing he could possibly say, i don’t really buy that.

there’s no chance. there is just no fucking chance that this man is ever gonna get it.

i don’t know what you want me to say. at this point, your body itself is doing weird shit. you feel heavy enough to sink through the concrete, brittle and light enough to get disintegrated by the wind. i can’t, you say. i’m gonna go. i’m dead on my feet here.

richie stoops down and picks up the takeout bag with the tub of leftover spaghetti inside, then holding it out in the space between you, offering.

take it with you, he says. i know you’re not hungry right now, that’s fine. you can have it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. spaghetti for dessert. something.

you don’t have the heart to say no to the ticking time bomb, and you don’t have the energy to pick it up either, so you just fucking look at it.

carmy cooked it, he says, and if only carmy could hear the way he says it, like: of course you want to eat it, everyone wants to eat it, michael fucking jordan would be so lucky to get a taste, cause carmy cooked it. the sauce is berzatto family recipe, it’s really fucking good.

richie, you say, i know it’s good.

you can practically fucking taste it, which is maybe why you’re on the verge of crying.

he lowers his arm. the plastic of the takeout bag rustles a little against the pant leg of his track suit. you turn, throw away your cigarette, and go.

you’ve got your hand on the door when he calls out, hey.

you don’t turn around.

richie says, i don’t wanna smoke without you too.

[ next chapter ] [ masterlist ]

@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1, @eternallyvenus, @cerial-junkie, @jackierose902109 — if anyone else wants to be tagged, let me know.

thanks to everyone for the lovely comments, and i'll try to keep posting twice a week for as long as i can. <3

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #mine #readerfic #do i know you?#the bear imagine #to be honest i am really proud of this one 🥹#diky

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