#box lacrosse jerseys

[ninyard]

Came here from your in universe tweets posts and have just realised you're also Irish.

What are your thoughts on Kevin Day seeming so American through and through? I personally wish Nora had given him an accent or something seeing as he was raised by his Irish single mam. Like I kinda wish there had been some cultural differences there even if it was done badly.

However I think Nora was very on point with the fact that if somebody was going to make a very violent stickball sport it would be an Irish person.

I don't know anybody IRL who's read aftg and I would love to hear somebody else's thoughts on Kevin's Irish heritage lol

I wrote these silly little hcs about Kevin’s childhood in Ireland but a lot of that is kind of dependent on Kevin having had more of a childhood in Ireland (which I don’t think happened but I haven’t got a clue what the timeline of Kayleigh being in Ireland to Kevin being born is tbh)

Personally I wish Kev was a little more Irish and I also think the Irish mammy thing would’ve had a HUGE influence on him (again depending how old he was when she died). She would’ve been his best friend if he’d grown up with her. Also the internalising of his problems is VERY typical of an Irish man but I’d like to imagine Kayleigh tried to break the cycle of that mentality in sons/first born sons and it was destroyed by the Moriyama’s.

Things I would maybe like Kevin to have/do:

- just a little bit of an accent. On certain words, or if he’s drunk or tired, or if he’s speaking with an Irish person, his accent QUADRUPLES in intensity.

- burns in the sun SO EASILY but also wears shorts when it’s barely even hot at all

- he drinks tea when it’s cold because it’s comforting and it reminds him of his mam. It’s the one indulgence he allows himself because she took her tea sweet so he heaps two teaspoons in when he feels like he needs a hug

- I’ve mentioned it before somewhere but I believe that Kayleigh was from the west, from a gaeltacht area and spoke fluent Irish, and raised Kevin to be bilingual until she passed, and he never continued and honestly probably forgot it. He remembers little words here and there but really not much at all.

- right after he graduates he spends an entire summer in Ireland before he starts with his pro team. It’s a silly decision for his exy career really because he could use all of the professional practice he can get, but he needs it. He goes back to Ireland and visits all of these places he doesn’t remember, the places where Kayleigh grew up and took kev when he was a baby. Maybe his grandparents are still alive, and his grandfather plays hurling with him, and they speak to him in Irish, and he spends the summer learning and just relaxing and reconnecting with his roots. Maybe his grandmother has a box of Kayleigh’s old things and for the first time in his life he holds something belonging to his mam other than his letter. Her jersey with her original IRE National Court number on it from the Olympics just a few years before she died, and some photos he’d never seen before. I’d really love for him to just be able to know his mam better somehow. I feel like he deserves it!!!

(He comes back with the most obnoxious Irish American accent after that summer and he gets ROASTED for it. But he doesn’t care, because he feels so much closer to his mam having spent that much time at home)

I am CERTAIN that Kayleigh was inspired to create Exy by watching hurling. There’s no way she wasn’t. Exy is the bastard sport of lacrosse, hockey AND hurling.

[reidslovely]

How to Disappear: Waves Crash in Over My Head

Please reblog and comment inlace of liking, pretty please.

Previous Chapter: Life Unknown

Pairing: Link/Alex Goodrich x Fem! Reader/OC-ish.

Content Warnings: Slight anxiety attacks, Link sends his fist through a wall, flashback heavy. Talking about aggression, mentions of broken noses. Intense arguing. I'm sure I missed something, let me know!

Waves crushed in over his feet, the soft sand beginning to sink beneath him. He was locked in place watching her talk with her friends by the fire. She glowed in the light of the fire, her eyes brighter than the fire and the moon.

 Waves crashed back in over his feet, he watched everything wash back out. He let go of the breath he was holding. Sudden hands on his back brought him back from whatever world he had landed on and pulled him back to this world. 

Her world. 

“You were great out there tonight.” 

His heart felt stuck in his throat as he gazed down at her. His lips turned up into a smile, his arms coming down to swallow her whole as he pulled her against him. 

“Yeah? Thought I looked silly out there, I got all nervous knowing you were watching me.”

Her head threw back in a laugh like it always did, the childlike joy filled their own little bubble.

“I’m serious!” He shouted in a laugh, his nose against her forehead. “Thought of such a pretty girl got me all sweaty in the jersey..the jersey you’re wearing by the way.” 

(Y/N) faked a gag, shrugging her shoulders causing the lacrosse jersey framing her to slouch slightly. 

“Mhhm well maybe I should stop coming. I'd hate to ruin your college scouting..” (Y/N) spoke up to him, her eyebrows raising.

“No, no you’re my good luck charm, need you there.” 

“I’ll be there..always.”

“You better be.”

-

Sun warmed his face, as Alex’s body jarred forward waking him up from his memory. Alex swiped at his nose, blinking a few times waking up from his long nap. Fairfield County was a welcoming sight. 

Not. 

He stood from his spot on the greyhound, watching the young mother and her daughter who sat next to her file out first. The little girl looked up at Alex smiling at him, and Alex smiled back before dropping his head. He grabbed the small grey bag off the seat next to him and jumped off the bus pushing the glasses to his face. 

He felt like a ghost here. Fuck, he was a ghost here. He wished his parents luck in talking their way out of this one. Alex, head down, took off up the street walking the square. Talking himself up to make the trip to his old subdivision, hoping he can keep whatever demons at bay. He watched a group of boys in jerseys cross the street laughing, lacrosse sticks over their backs. 

He loved lacrosse. It was the one sport he actually enjoyed, and maybe it’s because it let him exude just enough aggression to get by. He had done wrestling but biting got him disqualified, he did boxing but you can only break so many noses before people start asking questions. Lacrosse though. Everyone there was aggressive, most of the boys on his team were put on the team by the school psychologist to help them vent their issues. Alex found it funny that his aggression almost got him a free ride to college solely due to being hidden in his athletics. 

Alex had gotten caught up looking at the past, he didn’t see what was in front of him. Literally. 

“Oh my god I..I’m sorry.”

Alex hit the ground, the woman’s bag she was carrying dropping and scattering her groceries all over the street. The small girl holding the woman’s hand gasped. Alex put his head to the concrete, anger rising in his chest. He squeezed his eyes tight, taking deep breaths calming himself down before speaking. 

“I’m fine. I’m okay it was my fault I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Neither was I. I’m so so sorry.” She laughed nervously. It twisted in Link’s chest. It was all too familiar, and the eyes peering up at him made him sick to his stomach. The knife in his stomach twisted deeper as he saw the moment of recognition wash over her own face. Two ghosts staring back at each other.

-

“You can’t do this. You can’t just disappear.” Alex’s jaw twitched as hot tears poured down his face looking at (Y/N). He unpacked her clothes as she tucked them away. “It’s not disappearing if I tell you where I’m going.” 

Her words didn’t sound like her own. It was distant, void of the warmth she usually spoke to him with. “I have to go okay, Link. My mom and I don’t have a choice. Okay. There’s money involved and..and she made a legally binding contract or whatever.” 

“With who? Your aunt that you two have to disappear? You can come live with me, my family won’t care they love-”

“I can’t be with you Alex! Okay, do you fucking understand that? We’re just kids, everything is so..compli-” It was ‘Alex’ that set him off. She never called him that. 

“I’m complicated. That’s what you’re trying to say. You’re giving up on me like everyone else huh? Huh!”

(Y/N) flinched as he yelled. Tears rolled down her own cheeks and she choked on her own tears. He didn’t care. She was leaving him, she didn’t have a right to be crying. He didn’t know what happened next, he doesn’t remember it. It was like he woke up after seconds of black, his hands through the drywall of the tiny house he’d loved in comparison to his family's estate. (Y/N)’s mom stood in the doorway of the bedroom he’d spent hours in.

 “You should go, Alexander.” The older woman spoke softly, with a motherly tone. There was something they weren’t telling him. (Y/N) started to run after him as he walked up the wall. Her mom held her back as she cried for him. 

-

The girl he loved was a woman now. Standing before him in sundress and her hair pulled back into a butterfly claw clip that matched the little girls. One thing that didn’t change was the gold ‘A’ that hung around her neck, now joined by a golden ‘P’ on a smaller chain. The little brunette girl that had been holding (Y/N)’s hand had bent down picking up his sunglasses and items that fell from his bag.

“‘ere you go, sorry.” She spoke with a speech impediment that impaired her ‘r’s. But she had tried really hard in pronouncing them so that (Y/N)’s lips curled up into a reflexive smile, patting the girl's shoulders. 

“When did you move back? Wh-..” His face twitched in confusion. His brother surely would have known and would have told him. 

“Two years ago.” She spoke, pulling the girl back into her side. Playing with her brown curls. “I tried looking for you but..I was told that you..well weren’t around anymore.”

“I wasn’t technically. But..” “Mommy can we please go? I wanna show Addie my new toys.” Alex’s eyes wandered her fingers for any sign of a ring. Mommy? She’d had a child? She couldn’t be more than eight years old. She’d moved on so quickly after him when he never did. (Y/N) took a shaky breath, smiling down at the girl. 

“Course baby. Huh, Link..it was nice to see you.” He felt like he was stuck in slow motion as she turned away from him. “Wait, wait.” He rushed after her, hands shaking. “I uhh..do you have a number I can call you on?”

She hovered for a moment, she seemed paranoid looking around and even past him. “Yeah.” She let go of the little girls hand, digging in her bag for something. She slipped a yellow card into his hand, and for a minute let their hands linger on one another. He wonders if she can feel the heartbeat in his fingertips, and his eyes begging her to stay here for moments longer.

“You look good.” She smiled. “I didn’t care much for you blonde.”

She’d kept up with him, hidden in plain sight. That made him feel good, to know she’d at least watch from a distance.

“I didn’t either.”

Her hand left his, and took the little girl's hand back in hers. “Let's go P.” She said sweetly, the little girl waved at him. “Bye!” She yelled as she walked down the street, (Y/N) looking over her shoulder at him catching one last glance. 

-

“You knew? You knew she was in town and you didn’t tell me. You didn’t mention it in a single phone call.” He yelled at his brother as they stood on the back porch of his childhood home. 

‘I didn’t think it was important.” Ben says calmly. “And I thought it would make you spiral to know she had a kid.”

“No, I'm spiraling now because I had to find out this way.” 

“It was almost a decade ago, she left you and you burnt down a school in retaliation. I’m sorry for thinking it would send you down a rabbit hole of anger.”

Link could feel his eye twitch, he reached up scratching his face with his free hand. Flicking a cigarette with the other. Ben stared at him, having more to say but holding it back. He felt sick to his stomach, like he could crawl into bed and simply rot. A part of Link always hoped that she’d wait for him, turn eighteen and come and find him. But she never did, which he didn’t make it easier for her. Always moving, not having a phone. They could have had a good life. Maybe had she never left he would have gotten help sooner, maybe they’d have a white picket fence life. He thinks about the life he could have had. Coming home from a long day at work, a suit and tie for some silly office job he’d gotten to support them. He thinks about kissing his highschool sweetheart hello and watching their daughter playing. 

Then, in the middle of it, he remembers sending his fist through the drywall of her room simply because he was angry and didn’t know where to put it. Though he knows he’d never hurt her, or his metaphorical child he feels sick. He hates himself. 

“I loved her. So much, and I was devastated when she just up and left and wouldn’t even tell me why. You knew that, you knew how much that meant to me. I still love her.”

“You don’t know her anymore. She doesn’t know you anymore, okay?”

“I could though. I could love her, and she could find something in me to love again.”

Ben was biting his bottom lip, Link knew his brother's heart hurt for him. But Link could also read people, way better than he’d like to admit he could, and Ben was hiding something. 

“I’m gonna call her.” 

Alex grabbed the sliding glass door of the house that led into the casual sitting room. As he walked in, his hand fishing inside the bag on the couch for his phone he heard a voice that stopped him in his tracks. 

“Son..” His father’s voice filled the room, that fake politician's smile on his face. And if Alex knew how to fake one thing it was a smile. 

“Dad, hi.” 

His father took a couple steps in hugging his son to his chest. “So good to have you home. We have a lot to talk about.” 

Alex hugged him back with one hand, feeling like a little kid again. “That we do.”

taglist: @helloheyhihowdyheya @tarzinnia @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @sincericida @moonyslove78 @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @eevylynn.

[thebisexualdogdad]

Kira Yukimura x Scott McCall x Allison Argent x Isaac Lahey poly headcanons

Tagging @inhumanshadows who I came up with this idea with

● so basically Scott and Allison were dating

● and then they met Isaac and were like wait we both have a crush on him??

● so Isaac joined the relationship

● then Kira came to Beacon Hills and they were like wait we have a crush on her too??

● so Kira also joined the relationship

● telling all the parents was a trip

● Melissa didn't care she was more concerned about where to put Isaac since he was living with them and obviously couldn't sleep in Scott's bedroom anymore

● Chris was like "really?? You couldn't just date one werewolf but two?? And a kitsune??"

● Ken pretended to understand but then Noshiko had to explain to him what polyamory was, "so all four of them are in a relationship?? Like together?? How did Kira go from being single to having three partners??"

● Allison being the supportive girlfriend cheering in the stands while all three of her partners are on the field during lacrosse games

● every game she rotates wearing a different one of their jerseys

● when all of them go out to dinner it's a whole ordeal

● Allison thought Scott and Isaac ate more food than any one person should be able to but then Kira came along and she can out eat both of them

● they went to an all you can eat buffet once and by the time Allison finished her first plate Scott and Isaac were each on plate three and Kira was on plate five

● and when they order in pizza they have to order at least 6 pizzas and every box is empty by the end

● Chris "really guys? You use my credit card and you couldn't at least save me a slice?"

● they go on runs together through the woods

● Scott and Isaac love scaring Allison and Kira by disappearing then sneaking up and picking them up from behind

● as much as the four of them love spending time together they also make sure to have plenty of one on one time with each other too

● Kira has a master schedule that keeps track of when who is going to have solo dates with who

● Scott and Isaac staying up all night playing video games

● "you both look exhausted what were you doing last night?"

● Scott and Isaac looking at each other like they totally didn't just complete a game in 18 hours that is supposed to take people days "...nothing"

● Allison teaching Kira how to use a crossbow and Kira teaching Allison how to use her katana

● Scott and Isaac are both the "well mark me down as scared and horny" meme the first time they see their girlfriends using each other's weapons in a fight

● Allison and Isaac have a lot of study dates because Isaac doesn't do any of his homework otherwise

● Scott and Kira spend a lot of time lacrosse training

● the look on Coach's face when he found out their relationship situation was priceless

● "huh, so that's what polyamory is? I think I did that once in the 90's"

● Scott and Allison have more of the adventurous dates going to new places and trying new foods

● while Isaac and Kira have more casual dates like bowling or going for ice cream

● movie nights with them all cuddled up together on the couch

● Melissa comes home from her night shift at the hospital to find all of them fast asleep and the movie credits rolling

● unless they put on a horror movie because once again Scott and Isaac think it's hilarious to scare Allison and Kira who then don't sleep at all that night

● Scott, Allison and Kira all stealing Isaac's sweaters which are way too big for them

● one day he shows up to school and sees Scott, "Hey is that my sweater?" Looks at Allison, "that's mine too," looks at Kira, "and that one! No wonder I couldn't find anything to wear this morning."

● Allison being fascinated by both her and Kira's family histories

● they do so much research together

● if any of them ever get hurt the other three completely dote on them until they get better

● Scott "you guys I'm okay, super healing remember?"

● Isaac "just relax here I made soup"

● Scott "you have never cooked in your life"

● Isaac "fine Kira made soup"

● Allison "now that's more beliveable"

● they are the talk of the school when they first get together

● but after the shock factor wears off no one even gives them a second look when they are all walking to their respective classes hand in hand

● or when they are huddled close together on a bench during lunch break being all cute and coupley

● even if someone does say something they don't care

● they are happy in and in love and that's all that matters

[laresearchette]

Friday, January 26, 2024 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: MASTERS OF THE AIR (Apple TV+) SAGO MINI FRIENDS (Apple TV+) 13 HOURS: THE SECRET OF BENGHAZI (Paramount +) THE LEBANESE BURGER MOVIE (Paramount +) HIGHTOWN (Starz Canada) 10:00pm

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA THE DAIGLE EXPATS THRILLER THE UNDERDOGGS YOU HURT MY FEELINGS

CBC GEM GHOSTING WITH LUKE HUTCHIE AND MATTHEW FINLAN

CRAVE TV 299 QUEEN STREET WEST ALI CONFIDENTIAL INFORMANT THE CONJURING EASY A THE OTHER HALF PEPPA PIG: FESTIVAL OF FUN THE STAR TRANSAMERICA TRANSPLANT (Season 4) WATER

NETFLIX CANADA BADLAND HUNTERS THE BLACKLIST (Season 10) LOVE IS BLIND: SWEDEN SIT DOWN WITH STAND UP UDOM TAEPHANICH

PWHL HOCKEY (TSN/TSN5) 7:00pm: New York vs. Toronto

NHL HOCKEY (SN) 7:00pm: Panthers vs. Penguins (SN) 10:00pm: Blues vs. Kraken

DOPPELGÄNGERS: FACE TO FACE (documentary) 7:00pm: People meet their lookalikes and find out the resemblance is more than skin deep.

NBA BASKETBALL (TSN4) 7:00pm: Mavericks vs. Hawks (SN1) 7:30pm: Clippers vs. Raptors (SN Now) 8:00pm: Thunder vs. Pelicans

A.RTIFICIAL I.MMORTALITY (Crave 2) 7:40pm: Exploring the latest thinking and technological advancements in AI.

MARKETPLACE (CBC) 8:00pm: Putting electric vehicles to the test; Charlsie Agro hits the road to explore issues with range, charging infrastructure and reveals the challenges with repairs.

MILLION DOLLAR ISLAND (Discovery Canada) 8:00pm: Only 79 players remain, but that will soon change as two camps are put in a head-to-head arena battle; at the end of the epic war, the entire losing camp will be eliminated.

THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF JERSEY (Slice) 8:00pm: Tessa and Sascha renew their wedding vows; upset about not being invited, Kate and Margaret hold their own version, with Kate Taylor playing Tessa.

BOLLYWED (documentary) 8:00pm: Kuki and Sarab lay down an ultimatum with the second location; the kids think outside the box.

GARAGE SALE MYSTERY: THE MASK MURDER (Super Channel Heart & Home) 8:00pm: When Jennifer buys a storage locker at auction, she discovers a dead body inside -- along with a mask matching the deceased woman.

ABOUT THAT (CBC) 8:30pm

THE FIFTH ESTATE (CBC) 9:00pm: Search for the Smugglers: In 2022, smugglers left the Patel family to cross the Canada/U.S. border on foot during a snowstorm, an ordeal they would not survive; the pursuit of the men who Indian police allege planned the crossing leads to a surprising location.

PARADISE HIGHWAY (Crave) 9:00pm: To save the life of her brother, truck driver Sally reluctantly agrees to smuggle illicit cargo -- a girl named Leila. As Sally and Leila begin a danger-fraught journey across state lines, a dogged FBI operative sets out on their trail to save them.

THE SUMMIT AUSTRALIA (Discovery Canada) 9:30pm: The group falls a day behind; the remaining ten members have seven days to get to the summit with $785,000 left in the prize money on their backs.

NLL LACROSSE (TSN3) 10:00pm: Mammoth vs. Warriors

LITTLE BIRD (CTV) 10:00pm: Esther finds members of her family who help her put together the pieces of the past; Esther returns home to Montreal to confront Golda, her adoptive mother, about the revelations she's uncovered that shine a new light on their life.

[maamsshopbaby]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Jersey reversible Nike basketball tank top Youth M green white: Box E:.

[hansolmates]

17 going on 27

summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken. pairing; photographer!jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england w/c; 22.6k a/n; it’s that time of the year baby! the time of the year where i binge watch the good ol’ early 2000s romcoms that make absolutely no sense! a huge thank u to @eerieedits​ for making this beautiful banner. vivi got the whole delia’s/claire’s vibe down to a t! 

if you enjoy this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share✨✨✨

March 19th, 2011

Thirty, flirty, and thriving!

You finger the dog-eared magazine, last month’s issue of a shoddy fashion magazine that featured top actress Jennifer Garner on the front cover. Her caramel brown highlights practically glow on the page, blown out and beautiful. You suppress a sigh, you long to be the radiant young woman on the cover. The headline is glittery, sparkly and just begging for attention. 

Swiping a hand through the pages, your eyes are crowded with over-stimulation. Colorful models dressed up in the latest designs, Chanel and Burberry suits you can only dream of, and happy women at the prime of their lives. 

Twenty-seven and in Heaven! You smile wryly at the cheesy rhyme that headlines the following pages, but nevertheless the happy model on the spread does indeed look like they’re in heaven. 

Sure, you’re no shrinking violet. Heck, you don’t even consider yourself painfully average. You may not be on the traditional spectrum of popularity in high school, but you get around and have a wonderful best friend and an even better boyfriend. However given the social classes that preside, you do get those moments where you second guess your life’s position. Good thing high school has an expiration date, and you’re close to the end.  

“Baby Bun, what are you doing?” the magazine is snatched from your grasp, thrown on the table without a care in the world. Jennifer Garner’s hydro-whitened smile gleams tauntingly at you, “reading that junk is gonna mess with your head.” 

Your boyfriend returns from his final suit fitting, his outfit for tonight all pressed and ready to go. He pouts at you, pulling you up by the hand to lead you out of the Men’s Warehouse. Jeon Jungkook. Captain of the lacrosse team, flying by high school with a sports scholarship already in the bag. Eats up attention like plants soak up the sun. Secretly loves taking photographs of his dog and watching Netflix animes at your house. 

“Aren’t you excited for prom?” 

“Excited to listen to LMFAO’s Party Rock Anthem on repeat?” you guaff, “as if.” 

He pinches your arm lightly, “You also forget that we’re gonna tear up the floor to Nicki Minaj’s Superbass.” 

You shrug listlessly, crunching the white plastic closer to your body. 

Before you can suck all the air out of the garment bag, Jungkook carefully extracts it from your grasp, easily holding it between his one arm so he can thread his other hand through yours. “I am excited! It’s just that… Jimin’s not gonna be there and we’re sitting with the Yearbook committee.”

Looking down at the floor you extract your hand from his, slipping into his parent’s Honda Civic. The yearbook committee, meaning you’d be sitting at a table with head editor Jennie and her group of friends. Friends that are popular and pretty, just like Jungkook. 

Jimin is currently on a flight back from Korea due to a family funeral, therefore leaving a seat empty at your prom table. It was only seat that you cared about, other than Jungkook’s. It’s no one’s fault and Jimin of course is doubly upset to miss prom, but without your best friend you’re not sure if you can survive the night. 

One of the few secrets you keep from Jungkook is the fact that Jennie and you aren’t exactly friendly to each other. You don’t know why, maybe it’s the fact that you don’t run the in same friend group or you always win the debate in Civics class, but Jennie clearly expresses her dislike for you as easily as she expresses her love for Jungkook. 

Which makes you incredibly insecure, but Jennie and Jungkook have been friends for longer than you and him have been together, who are you to intervene? 

Jungkook slips in the driver’s seat, but not before pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

Right. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriend, and that should matter more than his friendship with Jennie. 

But the smell of his freshly cleaned lacrosse jersey, his duffle bag overflowing with protein powder and unfinished assignments remind you that you have your world and he has his. A conversation about your insecurities could wait until tomorrow. 

“When’s Jimin’s flight?” Jungkook asks, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tapping on your thigh as he pulls out. 

“He’ll be back two hours into the dance,” you report, albeit glumly as you rest your head against the cool window. 

“That sucks,” Jungkook replies, a bit of sadness in his tone, “he has to miss out on his prom night.” 

You shrug, “Prom isn’t everything, it’s about the people you spend it with.” 

“Well then,” he squeezes your thigh, “I’m glad I get to spend it with you.” 

You only have a few hours to get ready until you meet Jungkook at his house for pictures, so when you get dropped off, you tell him that he doesn’t have to get out of the car to escort you into your home. But Jungkook is insistent, putting the car in park and getting out your dress for you with such delicacy that you’re positively sure there’s no wrinkles in the fabric. Taking the dress from his grasp you wish him goodbye and a promise to meet each other later. 

“Wait,” Jungkook is biting his lip, unable to let go of your hand even though you’re already up the stairs. You’re looking down at him, a rarity considering his tall frame. 

“What’s wrong, Kook?” 

“Uh, I was just thinking,” he’s scratching the back of his head, and you soften. The little quirk he has is a sign of insecurity, being the star player Jungkook is forced to exude confidence to a fault. “Maybe, we could skip the prom thing? You said so yourself that prom is about the people you spend it with.” 

Your eyes widen, clutching your dress tighter. “What? Jungkook, that’s ridiculous. Between the both of us we’ve spent a lot of money on the clothes and the tickets.” 

“Right,” he forces a laugh, and you put a hand on your hip to think it out but you can’t quite place what’s going on. “Sorry Bun, I just know how the finale of our favorite anime airs tonight.” 

“You’re so silly,” you chastise, reaching down to pinch his cheek. Normally he hates it, but you can’t help but melt when he leans into your touch a little more. “C’mon, I know suits are stuffy and stuff, but let’s just do this high school rite of passage thing. Afterwards we can go to McDonalds or something and watch the recording.” 

“You’re right,” his face is red, “what was I thinking? Can’t miss out on a night to see my beautiful girlfriend all dressed up.” 

He squeezes your hand one last time, a little too tight for comfort. With a half smile he waves, going into his car and driving off. 

You don’t have time to dwell on his weirdness (and trust when you say that Jungkook is plenty weird and it astounds you how the rest of your class has no idea) so you fly up to your room to get your hair and makeup ready. Your parents greet you excitedly along the way, telling you there’s a package left for you on your vanity.

It’s a plain cardboard box, already cut and unwrapped by your parents for convenience. The address shows it came from Korea, proudly displaying the name of your best friend on the return address. Inside is a beautiful compact, made of brushed gold and pink metal. The makeup inside is a loose glitter from a brand that you don’t recognize, but since it’s a gift from Jimin, you trust his taste. 

I have to be at prom somehow, Jimin’s note on the box reads, don’t overthink and have fun! 

You snort, reading the sticky note over and over in Jimin’s voice. Looking over the shade, you can’t help but grimace at the cliché name. Wishing Dust. The color is a little too white and silvery for your taste, but you’ll wear it in honor of Jimin. 

The dress, the hair, the makeup all come together little by little. You like the ritual of getting ready, building yourself up to the highest order and feeling closer and closer to the beautiful women in magazines. Surprisingly, your favorite part of getting ready is applying the glitter that Jimin gifted you. The puff enclosed is cloud soft, and surprisingly the color doesn’t look too ashen on your skin. The glitter sinks into your skin like a soft butter, accentuating your collarbones and cheeks as if you are glowing from within. 

You smile at yourself in the mirror. A little part of you wishes you could look like this everyday. You wish you could always look and feel this confident, and act mature and graceful. 

A buzzing on your desk stops your wishful thinking, and you frown at the message that lights up your phone. 

Jungkook: sorry bun, but the civic finally broke down and its on its way to car heaven. Could we meet at the party hall instead? We can take pictures there, jennie mentioned yearbook hired a photographer

Disheartened, you send a quick text back saying it’s fine. Any more explanation on your feelings would reveal your disappointment. You don’t know how you’re going to tell your parents that they won’t be taking pictures with your boyfriend anytime soon. So you suck it in and take solo pictures for your parents and some group selfies. This is just one bump in the night, the rest of it should be smooth sailing. 

But when your parents drop you off at the venue your eyes first land on a beat up Honda Civic. You’re pretty sure car heaven isn’t at the prom. 

The rest of your entrance is a blur as you go through every corner of the venue, searching for your boyfriend. You’re clutching his matching flower in your hand, a beautiful red rose with baby’s breath circling around it, all clutched together in a black silk ribbon. You wonder what kind of flower he bought you. 

But it’s nearly impossible to find him. Not at the photobooth, the appetizer buffet, or in the lobby. It’s not until you’re sweating at the brow and nearing the corner of the venue that you do find him.

Lips locked, kissing Jennie. 

The plastic encasing Jungkook’s boutonniere drops, clanging to the ground. 

Whispers of you circle the air, meeting your ears and confirming all your insecurities. 

“Oh my god, I knew Jungkook was cheating on her!” 

“Wow, how pathetic. She ran all the way to prom alone to see this?” 

“I thought his girlfriend was a smart girl. How did she not know that their relationship was a bet all along?” 

Jungkook and Jennie are on the balcony, looking picture perfect in matching formal attire and flowers. The sun is setting, not taking its time as it sinks deeper and deeper into the horizon. The sky darkens and the air is chilly, much like your heart. 

Jungkook's eyes are wide and in shock as he watches you from the balcony, but Jennie’s are sharp and satisfied. Satisfied, as if the whole thing had been orchestrated. 

While you can’t hear him because he’s so far away, you can see the ghost of your name on his lips. Your ears are ringing, numb to the laughter of the students watching and the pity that others are throwing at you. You feel dumb. You feel like throwing up. In a bout of anger your heel digs into the plastic of the boutonniere, crushing the innocent rose in its clear coffin. 

You don’t make it far out the door when one of your favorite teachers snatches you in concern. 

“Honey, any further and you’ll be running on the highway," Mrs. Song jokes, pulling you away from the entrance. 

You feel like a newborn deer in your heels and incredibly heavy in your dress as Mrs. Song drags you over to a staff bathroom. It's far, far away from the actual party. Mrs. Song doesn't say anything, and just gives you a sad smile as she let's you go into the single stall alone. 

Sitting on the toilet and not giving a care that your dress is probably getting soiled, you bury your face in your hands and finally let the tears flow. Fat, frustrated tears roll down your cheeks without a care in the world. 

"Mrs. Song please, I need to get in there." 

"Now Jungkook, I think you've done enough for today. Go back to the party and don't worry about it." 

You can imagine Jungkook now, he hated it when people told him not to worry.  It only made him more annoyed, fists probably clenched under his perfectly tailored suit and his cute teeth uncharacteristically gritted. He cared to a fault, at least you thought he did. He ruined your night, he made you feel so dumb and silly.

But the longer you stayed in the dim bathroom, you could care less. Thank goodness for Mrs. Song guarding the door. Why would he bother to follow you? It turns out all your insecurities are not in vain, and that you’ve been ignoring a gut feeling you’ve mistaken for your lack of trust. You shouldn’t have trusted Jungkook. You shouldn’t have been so tolerable of Jennie. 

Goodness, you feel so stupid. You hope that there are other bathrooms for staff to use, because you want to coop yourself in here until the last dance. Mascara drips on your sleeves, your hands swiping at your cheeks to stop any tears from staining your dress even further. 

The more you hear Jungkook and Mrs. Song argue, the more you want to disappear. You bury yourself on the floor, uncaring of how dirty the tiles are. Glitter smears across your cheeks and sticks to your hands, and you no longer feel like the thriving young adult you once felt when you walked out the door this evening.

All you can do is cry and pray you can get through the night. And the next day, and the rest of senior year. You don’t want to see Jungkook or Jennie until graduation, when they walk out of the door and permanently out of your life. You wish you could skip the rest of the semester, and fastforward to the life you’ve carved for yourself in your dreams since freshman year. You wish you could be like the woman on the magazine, who has her whole life put together. To be a woman who holds all the confidence in the world and doesn’t have to worry about stupid men. 

Just like the cover. Thirty, flirty and thriving. Just like the models in the magazines. Twenty-seven and in heaven. 

Just once, do you want to taste the feeling of having life on your side. 

March 20st, 2021

Your first thought is that you feel disgusting. 

Of course, falling asleep in a random bathroom stall will make you feel those things. Your dress clinging uncomfortably to your sweating form, lulled to the sounds of Mrs. Song’s temperamental voice and Jungkook’s arguing. 

But for some reason it’s a different kind of disgusting. The feeling is rotting in your throat, as if there’s a tang stuck to the roof of your mouth. You also feel impossibly dehydrated, as if you’ve run a marathon. And for some reason you’re sore? Especially in the crotch, and you don’t remember experiencing any cramps yesterday. 

Your hands come to your body, and instead of feeling tulle and taffeta your hands are greeted with a silky black negligee that hangs across your waist. Panic stings in your bones like a stroke of lightning. 

Eyes snapping open, your breath catches in your throat when you take in the room. You’re on a large plush creme couch, large enough to be a bed. The organza curtains are a shade of bottle green and are opened slightly to let the morning sun in. From your view it seems like this is the top floor of the complex, overlooking the city horizon. 

You feel the covers shift slightly, and you realize there’s a naked man sleeping next to you. You scream. 

The man screams back with an even higher pitch, falling off the couch and clutching the sheets like a lifeline. “What?” he panics, eyes darting back and forth across the room like he’s on a reality television show. “What the fuck? Is there something on my face! Why are you screaming so early!” 

The fact that he’s an adult man and you’re seventeen is even more terrifying, and you feel absolutely naked despite the fact that you’re nearly clothed. But what confuses you more is that this man looks awfully familiar. 

Familiar in the sense that you’ve seen him in one too many television sitcoms to count. This man in front of you looks like Kim Seokjin, the protagonist of your favorite television show: Sky City. He has the same plump lips and pretty face, only aged up. But last time you checked on Soompi, Seokjin is supposed to be twenty years old and filming the next season in New Zealand. Arguably he could be his older brother, but he never acted and you don’t think he’d be the spitting image. 

“Seokjin?” you taste the name on your tongue, “Kim Seokjin?” 

Seokjin relaxes considerably, and he finds it appropriate to return to the couch, placing a tentative hand on your thigh. “Right, were you really that drunk? You got my name right, but it seems that you’ve forgotten that the only name you called me last night was sex god…” 

His plush lips meet the ends of your earlobe, and you squeal at the strange sensation. 

You’ve had sex with this man and you can’t even remember it? Furthermore how can a peasant like you be in contact with a celebrity? What on earth happened last night? Shouldn’t you be calling the police or panicking more? Where’s the pepper spray and sharp knives where you need them? You can’t even find it in you to find a sharp weapon at your once cherished-idol, who’s apparently unfazed and drinking in your body like he has a taste of it every night. 

“What’s the date?” you push him away, looking around for any signs of where you are and how you ended up here. 

“It’s the first day of spring,” Seokjin says easily, stretching out on the couch. “I wonder when the cherry blossoms will bloom. Should we have a picnic with Bogum?” 

“Where’s my phone, I can’t find my phone!” 

Seokjin doesn’t bat an eye as he digs through the couch, pulling something from under him. He waves it in front of your face. “That’s not my phone,” you deadpan. 

“Okay I guess you were actually that drunk,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, forcing the large piece of plastic and metal on your palm. “When you went to the bathroom last night you dropped your old phone in the toilet. We picked up a new one on the way to the next bar. Good thing the new Samsung dropped last month!” 

Since when are phones this large? You carry the strange weight in your hands, confused as to why Seokjin thinks this is your phone. You own a beat up 2G that barely gets any reception in the school basement. But when you turn it on, the screen recognizes your face immediately and unlocks. Wow, since when do cell phones do face recognition? 

A selfie of you and Seokjin appears on the homescreen, looking totally happy. 

Is that you? 

No longer do you have acne lining your brows, or uneven skin texture. Your smile is high and prominent. Your visage is clean and done with minimal makeup, highlighting your beauty. 

The date flickers on the top of the screen. March 20th, 2021: 7:42AM.

You scream again. Seokjin screams again for the heck of it. 

“How did this happen!” you shriek, dropping your phone to step up to the window. You bask in your reflection, mildly impressed and even more so afraid of what’s in front of you. Your body has filled out like an adult, and considering it’s ten years into the future, other things have filled out as well. Experimentally, your hands go out to your chest, squeezing. Yep, those knockers were not there the last time you checked. 

“Well, you came back from work completely drained from a shoot and I just finished filming my Everyday Skincare Routine video with Vogue,” Seokjin comes up to you, blanket tied around his waist like a long towel. “We met at our usual bar and do what we usually do when we’re both stressed: bang it out.” 

You watch as Seokjin’s hands snake around your slick silk, hugging you from behind like it’s second nature. “Is this a dream?” you ask yourself, because it’s not unlikely that you’ve had a sex dream with Seokjin and this is the aftermath dream. 

“Nope,” you yelp when Seokjin pinches your butt, hard. It stings. “This is real life, baby.” 

“Are we dating?” 

You feel Seokjin’s grip tense, and he shoves your innocent question away with a coarse laugh. “You know both you and me don’t do serious relationships. It’s why we work so well together, you know that.” 

“Right,” you reply softly. That doesn’t sound like you at all, and it scares you considerably. 

“So, I gotta go,” you panic when he lets go and starts searching around for his clothes. Your face heats up at Seokjin’s perky ass staring back at you, and your eyes dart to a random spot in the corner. “I got a green meeting with Ellen, and lord knows I don’t wanna face her wrath if I’m late.” 

In seconds he’s fully clothed in a plain shirt and jeans, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Call me beep me, if you wanna reach me,” he sings, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he leaves you in the large apartment. 

The door slams with a hard smack and that’s when you collapse on the couch that feels foreign and strange, breaking into tears. 

The next time you wake up, it’s the next day. It’s a glaringly bright Sunday and for whatever reason you’re still in this aged-up body. Maybe time travel makes the body really tired. This isn’t a dream. You panic for the second time, walking back and forth around the loft that’s apparently yours. It seems like it’s yours, because the bills that linger on the coffee table have your name and the pictures in the one bedroom are of you and your family. 

But the refrigerator in the nook is digital and has fancy ice settings, something you could never imagine owning. Your closet is filled with brand named suits, and with every designer label you pass you mentally rack up the total of just one section. It’s enough to pay for your college tuition if your first choice accepts you. 

Wait. You’re apparently twenty-seven, college is long gone. 

Lying in your bed feels better, surrounded by familiar pictures of your cousins and family. Your favorite snacks are tucked with care in your nightstand, and it makes you feel a tiny bit better knowing that your favorite chocolate and chips will never change. 

What happened in the past ten years? Why don’t you remember anything and are you entirely sure this isn’t some strange fever dream? 

Time ticks slowly as you spend the afternoon, glued to your phone. It’s a 25 Note+ and it’s filled with multiple doohickeys and settings that make you feel technologically inept. You never thought you were bad with technology, but clearly these phones have a learning curve attached to them. 

You try to call your family, but according to the voicemail left they’re on a Disney cruise that you paid for. Your heart aches at the excited voice of your parents. Why are they on a vacation without you? 

The next thing you aim for is finding Jimin’s contact. According to Google Maps, you’re not far from your hometown and you know that Jimin’s always wanted to move to the city so he must be nearby. To your chagrin, his name isn’t on your contact list. Strange, he’s always number two on speed dial. 

Clicking on the internet browser, you go to the online Whitepages and search up Park Jimin. There may be a million ones, but maybe you could get a lead. When a picture and an address show up easily with one swipe, you scoff. The internet has no room for privacy ten years later, huh? 

The most casual thing you own in your closet is a Free People dress, reaching mid-calf with flowing bell sleeves. Heck, you couldn’t even find a single pair of jeans. You don’t care however, as you swipe your keys from the counter (you gape, you own a Tesla?) and race down to the parking garage. 

Jimin’s apartment is on the other side of the city. It’s strange, transitioning from high rises and shiny windows to quaint brick walls and lived-in patio spaces. You feel like it’s a race against time as you make it all the way to his room, knocking feverishly on the mahogany red door. 

“What? Who is it?” it’s clear that his room is cheap, the walls thin as you hear his voice shuffle throughout the room. Why are you shaking? It’s just your best friend. 

The door swings open and you and Jimin drink each other in. His baby fat has melted from his cheeks, revealing a handsome and charming jawline. His hair is no longer a natural black, but has been dyed to a sandy blond that suits his tan. His eyes, wide in surprise, are still a soft brown but not as bright as when he was seventeen. 

“Jimin,” your third round of tears hits you like a truck at the sight of your best friend, and you immediately run into his arms. 

But he doesn’t hug you back immediately. In fact, he doesn’t know what to do at all. Your name rolls off his lips like he’s seen a ghost. 

You pull away, as if you are burned. You flinch at the way Jimin regards you. “Is something wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” he looks at you, crossing his arms, “I don’t know what to feel when your old best friend suddenly shows up at your doorstep after ten years.” 

What? 

“Why would I do that?” you whisper, bracing your hand against the doorframe to steady yourself. 

“Well, after graduation you chose a college at the last minute. Decided to go to a prestigious fashion university in Europe. Shacked it up with some British guys and well, forgot about your past but I guess I can’t blame you.” 

“But I couldn’t have left you,” you know you’re not even talking to Jimin, but in fact scolding yourself for being so stupid these past ten years. “I was crying for you that night at prom. All I wanted was for you to be there and hold me!” 

That strikes a cord. Jimin pops his head into the hallway, looking back and forth to see if anyone is watching. He sighs when your tears turn into sobs, shaking your form. “Come in,” he mutters, ushering you inside.

Jimin’s apartment feels more like home than your apartment does. Cosy and warm with the scent of jasmine brewing on the stove. The pour of tea soothes you slightly as you relax on the worn leather couch. 

Jimin hands you a mug, sitting opposite you against the rickety living room table. “Are you okay?” he asks, showing genuine concern for the first time. 

“I’m,” you roll the muddy liquid in your grasp, watching the tea leaves tumble. “I just came back from the hospital, actually. Hit my head drinking last night and I’m suffering from memory loss,” you clutch your head for good measure, feigning injury.  

“Memory loss?” he gapes, unable to see through your lie. 

“Yeah uh,” you wince, “almost ten years of memory loss.” 

Jimin isn’t a man who thinks ahead, preferring to live in the moment. You figure he’s not going to question your excuse. Your former best friend nearly drops his tea in the process, hot drops burning his hand. He hisses, placing the plain mug on the table as he goes to his shelves, pulling out your class yearbook. 

“Ten years,” he shakes his head, looking like he’s just stepped into a Korean drama. “Is that even possible?” 

“Must be,” you sigh, not wanting to delve into the details of how you ended up in the future, “the first thing I did when I woke up was scream my head off. Then I woke up later and the first person I called were my parents who didn’t pick up, and then I wanted to call you but,” you squeeze the cup in your hands, “I couldn’t find your contact so I searched you up.” 

“Should we call the hospital or something? Maybe you shouldn’t be walking around like this.” 

“Don’t worry, they said the memory loss is only temporary,” you force a smile, knocking your head lightly with the heel of your palm, “I just gotta y’know, catch up a little bit. I thought you could help.” 

Jimin is patient, albeit a little nervous, watching carefully as your eyes glaze emptily over the old yearbook. You’re unfazed at the familiar faces and events that are described to you in detail, unable to recall what happened during the events that followed graduation. There’s barely any pictures of you, so it doesn’t help when he tries to explain as much as he can. 

You stop him at the sports section, pointing a finger at Jungkook being carried by his fellow teammates during the lacrosse championships. “What happened to Jungkook?” 

Jimin shrugged, “Blew his sports scholarship,” your eyebrows float to the top of your forehead, appalled that your former love would do such a thing, “decided to pursue his passion and went to an art school for a degree in photography.” 

So much has changed in the past ten years. 

“Hey, can you please stop crying?” 

“I’m sorry,” you warble, wiping at your sleeve as if the fabric didn’t cost hundreds of dollars, “I must be making you so uncomfortable by barging in. I’ll get out of your life—”

“No, not that. I just don’t like seeing you cry,” Jimin sighs, squeezing your knee, “of course I was upset when you suddenly upped and left town to study in another continent. But I was still happy for you. On the internet you seemed tons happier since highschool.” 

“I can say that’s no longer the case,” you mutter sadly, taking a long drag of your tea. The burn flows down your throat, digging you to reality, “I guess I just woke up and wasn’t prepared to be the person I ended up being.” 

“Well, what can your former best friend do to make it better?” 

Your eyes widen at Jimin’s uneasy stare, as if he’s wondering whether he said the right thing or not. 

“Um,” you bite your lip, “will you go shopping with me? I realized I don’t own any sweatpants or sneakers and I would really like to wear something comfortable right now,” you look despondently on your uncomfortable dress, swinging around the sleeves that seem to snag onto everything. 

“Okay,” he nods easily, “will you also buy me new sweatpants and sneakers? And dinner? I really want a New York Strip.” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, “can I afford that?” 

He chuckles to himself, pulling you up and wiping the tears on your face with a tissue from his pocket. You don’t even care to ask whether the tissue is clean, only focusing on the tender gesture that you’ve missed so much. 

“Honey, you’re one of the co-editors of Ego. I’m sure a couple pairs of sweatpants and steak will barely make a dent in your bank account.” 

You’re flabbergasted. Ego? The fashion magazine that’s on billboards and commercials? That Ego? 

After a couple checks through your bank account, and a triple check with a phone call and trip to the ATM, you’re sure the money is yours. It scares you, but also comforts you knowing that you’ve always been able to make it big. 

You barely bat an eye as Jimin tugs you around the city with a familiarity that has you reeling. You struggle to remember the streets you pass and the signs that indicate what part of town you’re in, all whilst Jimin basks in the fruits of your labor. You don’t give a shit, obviously. It makes you happy seeing Jimin slowly melt and grow more comfortable throughout the day. 

This is the kind of life you envisioned. One where comfort isn’t discarded for luxury, where the two cultures can marry. Jimin busts a gut when he sees you angrily shove your Free People dress deep in your shopping bags in favor of a black Adidas tracksuit that makes you feel like a soccer mom. Of course, he doesn’t know why you’re so aggressive with all your luxurious items, heck you even make him drive your Tesla, but nevertheless each passing hour brightens you up considerably.  

When you two arrive at a fancy steakhouse with a dress code, the manager doesn’t hesitate to chide you and suggest the Applebee’s down the street. 

You retort back that you’re an editor of Ego, and in seconds you’d have this restaurant swarmed with bad reviews. You know nothing about culinary review but you’re sure the manager doesn’t know that, and no arguments are placed after that. 

The evening puts you in higher spirits, and you’re almost convinced that you’re a successful twenty-something catching up with your former best friend. You’ve always been mature for your age, high school can do that to a person, and it makes it vastly easier to keep up with the new decade. 

“So,” you help Jimin get his bags up into his apartment. A little part of it feels like a bribe as you carry all the name brands on your arms, but you chalk it up to being compensation for the last ten years, “who are the people you hang out with now? Anyone I know?” 

“Well, Taehyung sometimes drops by if he’s free. He’s traveling the world now, he actually works with you,” Jimin provides the information smoothly, “only he works in the international business column. But surprisingly, the person I hang out the most with is—”

“Jungkook.” 

Standing face-to-face with your old high school sweetheart disarms you, and you’re sorely reminded that just you’re a seventeen-year-old in a twenty-seven-year-old’s body. 

Jungkook looks tired, and he rubs his eyes a bit as if to make sure he isn’t dreaming. You in the flesh, looking purposeful and confident as you hold three bags on each arm, each piece probably costing more than his rent. He’s filled out, what once was lean muscle and minor definition has turned into full muscle mass hidden beneath a large t-shirt and sweatpants that are two sizes too big. His face is still sweet-looking and baby-like, but his hair is overgrown and waving in front of his eyes without a care in the world. 

“Did I mention we’re neighbors?” you can practically hear the wince in Jimin’s voice, probably regretting that he hid that chunk of information from you. 

Jungkook tastes his name on your lips, and it sounds foriegn and strange coming from the both of you. “Good to see you,” he says, voice low. 

You barely formulate a response, replying with an equally nervous “right back at ya” and then you two resume staring at each other. While Jungkook hasn’t seen you in the last ten years, you saw him yesterday. Yesterday, where you started the day all peachy keen and it spiraled downhill shortly after. It’s jarring, knowing that your body doesn’t fit your conscience. 

“Well I uh,” Jungkook lifts his indicator to leave, a large garbage bag, “bye.” 

Jungkook shuffles out of the small hallway, and you get a whiff of his scent. It’s still the same, fabric softener mixed with his own musk. 

“I,” you start off slow, “maybe I should go talk to him?” 

“No,” he warns. “You and Jungkook are completely different people now, he’s just gonna think you’re pitying him if you go up and talk to him out of the blue.”

“But we’ve always been different people.” 

“You really think that?” Jimin shakes his head, “I know what happened at prom was rough but, I really didn’t think much of your relationship with Jungkook before that. It seemed like you were pretty compatible—”

“Up until the point he was kissing Jennie in matching flowers on the balcony like some kind of romance film?” you scoff, crossing your arms, “right. Super compatible.” 

Jimin sighs, as if he’s chastising a teenager. “Prom happened ten years ago, don’t act like it happened yesterday. People change.” 

You frown, because in your mind it did happen yesterday. 

Sleeping last night was hell. It’s one thing to be completely zonked out of your mind and unsure if you’re in a dream or weird coma, but knowing that you’re going to be stuck here for awhile is painful. Your loft is too big for your tiny body, your mattress cold and empty with just you in it. Without your parents to call and you feeling wholly insecure about your rekindling with Jimin, the only person you can really call is… Seokjin. 

And you really don’t want a repeat of your first night. 

So you suck it up, spend your waking hours in your office and quickly learning your tasks for work. You don’t even know what time you’re supposed to clock in, but from a sticky note attached to your MacBook it seems that you have a creative meeting at 10AM. You allow yourself two hours of sleep before you get moving.

The one exciting thing about your morning is that your outfit choices are virtually limitless. You feel like Cher in Clueless, all your outfits color-coordinated and organized by season. You pick out a springy Chanel number, a pale pink tweed skirt suit that has you feeling equally parts cute and an independent working woman. You even make time to buy yourself a coffee, because that’s what adults do right? 

Your office is gorgeous. Also located in the upper part of the city, the glass desk and high windows fit right in. You have an ideas board filled with various designs, fabrics and models to choose from. There’s a little frilly notebook straight out of the 2000s, all filled with phone numbers and special contacts all at your disposal. You even have your own cold press coffee machine complete with a mini-fridge. 

“You’re never this early, nervous for the meeting?” 

You squeal, nearly dropping your coffee as you take a tour around your office. You fight the urge to gape and point accusingly at the woman standing at your door.

“Jennie?” 

“In the flesh,” she gives you a cool smirk, holding her arms out for a hug. It really throws you for a loop, and you’re left stricken in your spot as Jennie closes the gap and squeezes the life out of you. Her grey pinstripe pantsuit crumples against your softer fabric. “You know you can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“Jennie and you are practically besties,” Jimin sounds a little jealous while saying that, forcing you to scroll through your Instagram page to see the countless selfies of you and your high school rival, “I mean, at least that’s what the internet says. Went to college in Europe together and everything.” 

So it’s true. You awkwardly pat Jennie on the back, and she doesn’t seem to mind when she pulls away and tells you to meet upstairs. You mindlessly follow after her to the conference room, wishing a kind good morning to everyone that greets you. 

Once you make it upstairs, you flinch at the loud screech of your voice. “My favorite editor!” someone in a plaid red suit runs up to you and throws an arm around your shoulders. The editor-in-chief Jung Hoseok smiles brightly at you, leading you to a seat at the head of the table right next to him. You’re cosy with the editor-in-chief? This is crazy! 

“G-good morning Mr. Jung,” you stutter, trying to remain cool. 

“Did something happen to you this weekend?” Hoseok jests, pinching your cheek like a long lost sister. “You always call me Hobi.” 

“Oh,” you force a giggle, “you don’t even know how crazy this weekend was.” 

Hoseok simply laughs and gets himself settled for the meeting.

“I’m so jealous,” Jennie sing-songs, a manicured finger trailing over the back of your chair, “only the best of the best can sit next to the big boss.” 

The comment has you bristling. Are you really friends? Giving her a tight smile, she saunters to another corner of the meeting. On your section of the table is your itinerary and iPad, ready for note-taking. 

“One thing that we do at Ego is consistency,” Hoseok pulls up a projection of this year’s editions, all carbon copies of the same cover. “And while that is admirable, I want to put my top editors to the test and come up with the theme for next month’s issue.” 

Hoseok sends you yet another pearly white smile, and due to the sheer closeness you know that secret smile is only reserved for you. That makes you squirm in your seat, already feeling the pressure building in the pit of your stomach. 

“Take two days off this week to plan. Work out the days you’ll be out of the office with HR, those days you’ll be working in the city, finding ideas and inspiration for the issue. Remember, think outside the box!” Hoseok does a little fist pump, cutting through the air like his life depends on it. 

The whole lot of the group continues to stare at Hoseok, waiting for his next instructions. Then, the adults begin to panic, similar to a high school class that’s been told they have a pop quiz that’s worth half their grade. You sigh internally, you suppose high school never ends. 

“C’mon,” Hoseok urges, flailing his arms around, “get out there! Make moves, make money!” 

But the only moves you’ve made since 2PM are fleeting trips to the bathroom. 

Obviously you don’t have any memory of your degree or experience, so instead of feeling like an editor you feel more like a teenager playing dress-up. You couldn’t even sneakily ask Jennie for help because she deadpanned: “I’m not sharing any secrets, doll.” It seems that being backhandedly mean is a theme in your relationship, so after that you rolled your eyes and locked your door. Thankfully you packed a pair of sweatpants so you can comfortably lie down on the floor while you spread out your workspace. Magazines littered the hardwood, all sultry and sexy looking models staring back at you with the same half-lidded stare and overdone makeup. 

It makes you cringe, thinking back to the other day when you were jealous of these people. Now that you have this life, thriving and full of beauty, is that the only thing you want to show to your audience? How can they possibly relate to models who make triple their salary? What about the authenticity? The ingenuity? 

And that’s when it hits you. 

Scrambling to your computer, you search up a photographer that you know will be completely and utterly transparent. 

My Time Studios: Capturing the raw moment. 

You know exactly what you want for next month’s issue. 

Jungkook does not expect to see you through the peephole of his apartment, fiddling with the threads of your clothes and eyes glued to the ground. He mutters a curse under his breath, jamming his fingers between the metal double lock to swing his head out. He doesn’t even bother to open up all the way, just enough to stick his face out. 

“Jungkook, hi!” he still can’t believe you’re around. Jungkook winces at your tone, high and sounding like a teenager. He thought by now you’d be traveling the world, climbing to bigger and better things. Then again, the upper part of the city is certainly an upgrade. He just thought you’d want to be far, far away from him. “I b-brought you McDonalds.” 

You hold up a greasy bag of fast food, and his nose immediately responds to the smell of fresh fries and a quarter pounder (with cheese, of course.) It annoys him that you still know his weakness, but he isn’t going to go that easily. 

“Why are you here?” he asks a little too sharply, hands gripping the doorknob. 

“I wanted to offer you a job,” you get straight to the point, as if you know your time at his doorstep is limited. 

He scoffs, “You? Want to put my photos on Ego? You know my business extends to weddings and the occasional Bar Mitzvah. Why would you want me?” 

You frown, crossing your arms. He looks down at your attire, a nicely fitted suit on top, but the skirt is replaced with grey sweatpants. Comical, really. “I’ve always loved your photos,” you admit to him, “you know that. And they’ve gotten so much better since then.” 

The furrow between Jungkook’s brows softens a fraction, smoothed by the honesty in your voice. You’re right, you always made sure to tell Jungkook how much you loved his other talents. Namely, the photography, and sometimes his singing. He can still remember how easily you slept in his arms watching Sky City for hours, all at the melody of your favorite song. While his teachers and classmates loved to venerate his position on the team and his ability to garner attention, you encouraged him to work on the things that mattered to him the most, even in secret. 

Nevertheless, that was ten years ago. 

“I don’t need your charity,” he spits, “Jimin might be able to be bought by some designer clothes and an eighty dollar steak, but not me.” 

The pain in your gaze is glaringly evident, and you don’t even try to hide that you’re upset as the paper bag falls against your lap. If there’s one thing Jungkook knows he’s good at, is hurting your feelings. 

“You think this is charity?” you whisper, hurt delicately lacing your voice. 

“Are you kidding? Last month you got Xu Minghao to photograph your spread for Ego. He’s photographed the damn Queen of England,” if you notice that he’s babbling about reading your magazine, you don’t show it in your face, “the point is, I don’t understand why you’re trying to come into my life again. I don’t want to get involved in your fancy dinner galas or anyone else from high school. So please, just go back to your picture perfect life.” 

And without another qualm he slams the door in your face, effectively shutting you out. It doesn’t feel as good as he wants it to feel, clearly. He feels even shitter than before. His eyes glaze over to his rickety coffee table, cluttered with bills and credit card payments that should’ve been dealt with a long time ago. 

He slugs himself over to his couch, throwing his body over the couch that’s way too short. His legs dangle in mid-air, but it doesn’t stop him from throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sunset. The bills can wait a little longer. Seeing you was too draining. 

The nap turns into a full-fledged night’s sleep, and by the time he wakes up the sky is dark and it’s the start of a new day. 12:08, the screen of his iPhone confirms. Feeling even crustier and worse than before, his stomach decides to harden the blow and go straight for the gut. He’s sorely reminded of the food you offered him hours ago. 

Quickly pulling on a large denim jacket, he grabs his keys and heads for the 7-Eleven down the park. Nothing like a frozen pizza to fill the gut, fast and cheap. Despite the fact that it’s dark and late, there're still some stray people in the park. A few homeless, some high school stoners who are meeting in secret, and you are typing away on your MacBook. 

Wait, what? 

You’re sitting on a bench in the park, typing away without a care in the world. Shoving soggy fries that he earlier refused in your mouth, you let a couple stray potatoes hang from your lips as your eyes succumb to the screen. You look positively silly, still in a pink blazer and baggy sweatpants. 

He must have been staring a little too long, because soon enough you turn your head, gasping at his figure. You quickly avert your eyes, but don’t make any move to leave the park. That interests him further. 

Shamelessly, he calls your name. His legs get to you in an instant, towering over your tiny figure. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I’m waiting for Jimin,” your eyes flicker to your open laptop, “and working.” 

At least one of those reasons is a lie. Last time he checked, Jimin always sleeps over at Yoongi’s house on this day. He knows it’s a lie, and you know he knows it’s a lie, but neither of you make the effort to correct it. 

“And what could you possibly be working on at 12AM?” 

“Finding a photographer,” you hunch over your laptop, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t have much time and none of my usual contacts are good enough. This project is… personal.” 

It makes him want to ask further, he can’t lie and say he isn’t intrigued in the kind of vision you’re going for in your next issue. “But why can’t you work at home?” 

“Don’t wanna go,” you reply casually, “it makes me feel lonely.” 

Lonely? You feel lonely? He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at the display of nonchalance. Back in high school he always encouraged you to feel confident, but not like this. “Hey, it’s nice that you feel comfortable enough to chill in the park at 12AM, but it’s really dumb. You’re lucky you haven’t gotten mugged from all that money you’re carrying around!” he gestures to your fancy clothes and laptop, “and if you feel so lonely, call up one of your rich friends I’m sure they’ll—”

“Oh my god, Jungkook,” you slam your laptop shut, darkening the two of you. “I thought you wanted me to go back to my ‘picture perfect life’, so why do you care?” you get up in his face, standing on the bench so you’re nearly eye-to-eye, “why don’t you pester those kids over there? Tell them to drink their milk and go home,” you scoff, shoving your stuff in your bag. You don’t spare him another glance as you stalk off in the other direction. 

He groans, unable to untangle himself from the mess, “Where are you going?” 

“To a park where you’re not in!” 

Despite the exchange for sweatpants, you’re still wearing shoes not fit for walking. They’re little white pumps, not too tall but not remarkably comfy either. However, that doesn’t deter you from getting the heck out of there, seemingly walking in any possible direction to get away from Jungkook. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he chastises once his hand clasps around your hand, pulling you around. 

There’s a little resistance, as you try to hide your face to no avail. Jungkook fumbles a little, not thinking you’d be crying. But tiny, shy tears are pooling around your eyes, looking flustered at your display of emotion.

“God,” you mutter to yourself, “I feel like such a kid.” 

That strikes a chord in the twenty-something man. The last time he saw you in the flesh was when you were both kids. Young, unbridled, and stupid. Well, only Jungkook was the stupid one. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” Jungkook offers, feeling guilty about his roughness. 

You shake your head. “No, I told you I don’t want to.” 

“Can I at least call you a cab? Or a friend so you won’t get lonely?” 

“Jungkook, if I had that option would you think I’d be here right now?” he’s trying, he really is. But you’re equally as miffed about this whole situation and at a loss. The two of you engage in a staring contest. It only takes a few seconds for you to crumble, and he frowns when you shiver in your thin blazer. 

Instantly, he rips off his jacket, pulling it over your body. It’s huge on you, swallowing your body and hopefully containing some of his residual heat. 

And finally, he relents. “If you want, I’ll come over and stay until you fall asleep.” 

“Okay,” your eyes widen in instant agreement, pulling something out of your pocket. “Will you drive?” 

His eyes widen at the shiny, minimalistic car key. Your sudden one-eighty has him second guessing his decision. “You drive a Tesla?” he gapes, taking your key like he’s holding the Hope Diamond. 

You got your license in February. One month ago, and only because the instructor felt pity on you since it was your second time retaking it. The fancy car terrifies you, and you’re sure Jungkook has much more experience driving (over ten years worth.)  

You shrug, “Not very good at driving. Haven’t had much practice.”

“Um, the car drives itself?” 

“It does?” you tilt your head, dazed, “wow, technology is amazing.” 

He shakes his head, putting a hand on your back so you can lead the way. You must be tired, because it seems like your head isn’t entirely there anymore. He takes charge, buckles you in and takes a couple minutes to fumble with the car settings. Nevertheless the drive home is smooth (and it takes all of Jungkook’s willpower to not squeal in excitement when the Tesla does in fact, drive itself.) 

You lead him inside your loft like a tiny zombie, throwing your shoes to one corner and throwing your jacket on the kitchen table. 

“Must be hungry,” you can’t even form complete sentences, “there’s food in the fridge, Kook. Sorry if it’s not to your taste.” 

Shuffling away to your room, Jungkook is left to gawk at your apartment. The baseboards of your walls are crusted in pretty pearl designs, swirling around the whole expanse. There’s a television that stretches the wall of the little living room, with a sound and video game system he’s only seen in movies. Your tables are meters and meters of granite, and he wonders how the floor of your apartment can hold all this weight. 

But he supposes it’s because there’s nothing much to hold. No pictures line the walls, only vague looking art to fill up blank space. There’s no touch of warmth despite the heating system under the floor that relaxes his toes. For such a big home, he can only imagine how small you must feel in it. 

Your fridge is just as empty, decorated with a couple of sad-looking salads and some protein shakes. He sighs, grabbing two chicken salads and a banana shake and bringing it to your coffee table. It’s a little two quiet for his liking, so he turns on the television real low just to make the room feel a bit fuller. 

Halfway through one salad he realizes he probably should’ve made you eat as well. Even though these salads aren’t remotely filling, they’re much healthier than some soggy fries. A piece of limp lettuce hangs from Jungkook’s mouth, suddenly feeling guilty for soaking up all of your amenities without inviting you. After all, it is your house. Wiping some sauce from his lips he dusts off his pants, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he makes his way to your room. 

Calling your name, the only reply is the whir of the heater. He only cracks the door a tad, but he sees you slumped against the edge of the bed, bare feet hanging from the end. You barely made it, your clothes strewn across the floor, an oversized t-shirt ruched across your barely covered thighs. Without a thought he quickly scrambles to move you closer to your pillows, and then wraps your body in your plush duvet. You’re out like a light. 

You’re sleeping, so Jungkook should go home. That’s what you two agreed to. He goes back to his late dinner (early breakfast?) mindlessly listening to an infomercial on rare dollar coins. He’ll leave after he eats. 

He didn’t leave. 

Jungkook awakes to a scream, your shrill voice echoing all the way down the hallway into your living room. It takes a second for him to register the empty white walls and the fact that he’s not in his apartment, but eventually it goes back to the point that you’re in distress. He jolts, scrambling off the couch to run to your bedroom. 

“What is it?” he exhales into your doorframe, socks sliding. 

Your hair is in a disarray, shirt rumpled and face scrunched in pain. You shove your phone in his face. “Since when did Iron Man die!” you cry, genuinely horrified at whatever entertainment article you’re reading. 

He slumps against the wall, running a hand over his dry face. “Since Endgame, obviously. That was literally two years ago. Is that why you woke me up?” 

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” 

“Have you been living under a rock or something?”

“Or something,” you frown, throwing your phone across your bed, “I guess I should go get ready for work.” 

Jungkook watches as you shamelessly hop off your bed, uncaring that your shirt has ridden up, revealing the full expanse of your thighs and then some. You pull out a pair of sweats from a shopping bag, nicking off the tag to put them on your legs. 

“Do you have work?”  you ask casually. 

“Uh, no,” Jungkook coughs, crossing his arms. It’s been awhile since he’s had a solid gig. Two whole weeks have been spent doing more personal work which was fine, but at the same time his bank account could beg to differ. “I’m off today.” 

“Oh, alright,” you shrug, “do you know where I can buy a good camera?” 

“Why?” 

“Gonna go take pictures,” you snatch your wallet and keys from your bedside, stuffing it in a fanny pack. He watches you curiously as you zip your bag shut, muttering something about how you can’t believe that fanny packs are back in style. Swinging the strap over your back, you brush past him. “You can stay if you want,” you add pointedly, before you slip into the bathroom. 

Jungkook doesn’t understand as to why he’s slipping into sensory overload. The house is a shell of itself and the antithesis of a rainbow. Maybe it’s the fact that he woke up ten minutes ago or how you look completely peaceful and want to leave as soon as you wake up. Or how shocked you were that Iron Man has passed and you’ve completely missed Phase 3. Or that you’re not even thinking about breakfast or not wishing him a farewell, practically throwing him into your apartment like a second home. 

He wobbles back to the couch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible as he drapes the fuzzy blankets over his body. He flips through the channels, before finally settling on an old episode of Sky City. 

When you walk out into the living room, you scrunch your face in pain when you make eye contact with Kim Seokjin’s on screen appearance. Oh, how things change. Jungkook knew how much you loved watching Sky City, indulging in the protagonist's attractiveness. 

“Y’know,” Jungkook says over his shoulder, “if you leave me here, I could steal whatever I want.” 

“Go ahead,” you reply flippantly, already slipping on your sneakers. “There’s nothing of value here.” 

What is wrong with you? 

“Wait!” Jungkook throws all his pride at the window, unable to conceal his worry for you. Half your body is out the doorway, and you’re looking at him like he’s grown a second head. His voice takes up the entirety of the room, startling you. “I need to come with you,” he finally settles on, looking serious. “You’re going to buy the wrong camera.” 

“Okay,” you concede immediately, throwing the keys on the couch, “you drive.”

Jungkook must know something’s wrong with you. 

You don’t know how to act around him. Your heart is hurt and your body is a decade older than it was a week ago and everything in your life and mind is a complete wreck. It still aches to look at him, despite the fact that you want him around, all the time. You wish you could know a little more about your adult life, you feel like a proverbial Bambi sitting in a car worth more than your childhood home. It’s a wobbly, shaky road to adulthood, and you’re not having it. 

Jungkook sleeping over is the last thing you thought would happen last night. You didn’t even think he’d relent to coming to your house, since he was pretty hellbent on not being your photographer. 

But now he’s driving your Tesla again, after you instructed him to park the car where you parked it last time. That way, you can go back to the playground you were in the night before. You have a vision for the issue and it starts there. Fiddling around with the expensive camera Jungkook picked out, you feel his gaze burning into your shoulder. 

“Am I doing something wrong?” you ask archly, “I read the manual and everything. Or are you just being a perfectionist again?” 

“What’s wrong with being a perfectionist?” Jungkook shoots back, putting the car in park. As soon as the car stills in the parking lot, he grabs the camera from your grasp like a petulant child. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t break it. Face it, you’re terrible at technology.” 

“Excuse me! I have a Samsung 25+ and a Tesla!” 

“Yeah? So why did I catch you struggling to use your pay feature on your phone when we grabbed coffee?” 

“It’s new,” you mutter under your breath. Everything is new to you. 

With a growl you snatch back the camera, and Jungkook for once doesn’t act like a baby with a sharing complex and relents. Of course, Jungkook manages to calibrate the camera and figure out the color balance before you could. This only annoys you further, wondering why Jungkook is still sticking around after all this time. 

“Alright,” you step out of the car, slinging the camera around your neck. “Thanks for driving me around, your apartment’s just down the street, right?” You dart your hand out, and Jungkook reluctantly hands over your key beeper. Maybe it’s because he seems to love the car so much, that he has a hard time giving it back. “I’ll see you around.” 

“Wait,” is that his word of the day? Wait wait wait. 

“What is it now, Jungkook?” 

He’s never seen you so full of negative emotions. You’ve been waiting for him to tire of you all day, from your clipped replies and unease ever since you two stepped out of your apartment. 

“Um,” he looks embarrassed, scratching the back of his head, “are you really going to take pictures? You always took really blurry pictures in high school.” 

The mention of high school has you icy, gripping the matte black digital camera to hold your feelings at bay. “Yes, I’m going to go take pictures because the photographer I wanted so rudely rejected me,” you revel in the way he shrinks, probably regretful already. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have a deadline.” 

He continues to follow you, all the way to the park. You make your way to a little garden, and start to take some test photos next to the little daisies that decorate the patch of dirt. You practically feel Jungkook breathing down your neck, feeling antsy everytime you click the shutter. Ignoring him is difficult, especially when he makes little noises of discomfort when you presumably do something wrong. 

“Jungkook, are you going to say something?” you seethe, not caring that the heavy camera strains your neck when it falls against your chest, “or are you just going to make me wait.”

Jungkook’s face is scrunched up, and finally he blurts, “I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry for what?” 

“For saying your life is picture perfect,” he sputters quickly, looking very sweaty. Jungkook always got sweaty when he did things a little too hard. Playing sports, thinking, campaigning on video games. “I—I didn’t mean it. I don’t know. I guess I was just upset at myself and I took it out on you.” 

“Well why are you upset at yourself?” 

“I’m upset because I—I don’t know, it’s complicated,” he plops down on the nearest bench, and while you follow him, you don’t let yourself sit next to him. If you do, you know your subconscious will want to wrap your arms around him and comfort him. That would probably be the worst possible action to perform. “I don’t really do the whole photoshoot thing. Like I said, I’m just doing some weddings and parties here and there. I shouldn’t have said those things about Jimin and how you’re only talking to us out of charity. It’s my fault for not considering how complicated your life could be too,” he looks down at the ground, shameful, “so if you still want me, I would really like to photograph for Ego. And I would also really like that camera back.” 

Unable to resist, you reach over to give him a pat on the shoulder. “I forgive you,” you reply numbly, thinking he was going to apologize for something else. You suppose he’s forgotten about that fateful prom night, just like everyone else. “It’s actually not for Ego, at least not yet. My boss is pitting us against each other, the best idea wins the cover theme.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll win,” his face eventually breaks into a grin when you remove the camera from your body. “Come to daddy, baby,” he cooes, holding the shiny new camera in his hands like a newborn. 

“Gross,” you twitch, although you’re feeling all the more relieved knowing Jungkook will now be taking the visual reins. “You haven’t had a chance to look at the contract made up, but being paid five-hundred okay?” 

“Five-hundred a week?” 

“No, per day,” you correct, “why wouldn’t I pay you just like I pay the others?” 

Jungkook’s dark brows fly to his forehead. He practically chokes on his spit at the way you put Jungkook in high regard. A blush overtakes his visage, proud and pink as he rushes to get away from you. 

“You don’t even know my concept,” you called after him, chasing the midday sun. 

Jungkook is already in position, fitting the lens between two buildings. The afternoon sun looks like an egg yolk, melting between the clouds. “Well then is it?” he asks, bending down on one knee to get the perfect angle. 

“Well, yesterday when I thought of the idea I just wanted to be reminded of how easy being a kid was,” you don’t even know if Jungkook’s listening properly, given the rapid click click clicks of the shutter and Jungkook constantly moving around to get as many shots as possible. “I realized that not everyone can relate to the models or the clothes we advertise on Ego. Why would I want to see people I actually admire? Like, my friend’s older brother. Or Jimin, president of the drama club. Or even Jungkook, captain of the lacrosse team.” 

“So, nostalgia. The 2000s are back in style, I like it,” he replies simply, tilting the camera towards you, “pose for me.” 

“What? Jungkook,” you frown, holding a hand over your face. He doesn’t relent, continuing to snap you in different angles. 

“Oh! That was a nice one,” he turns the camera to reveal the screen of your furrowed brows, hand over your face, “looks super grunge. Totally a throwback look.” 

“Jungkook, I don’t model. I’m just the one who throws the ideas.” 

“Yeah, but. Wouldn’t it be cool if the readers of Ego could see the genius behind the paper and ink?” he gestures vaguely to your outfit, “and you’re wearing Fila. So that’s like, kind of designer?” 

“I don’t know,” you hug yourself, “I’ll think about it, okay? Let’s focus.” 

“Fine,” Jungkook stops buzzing around you, putting the camera down and following you as you walk back to your car. You don’t think you really need anymore park photos, and Jungkook seems to telepathically agree as well. 

“We need to plan some outfits and some backgrounds. I’ve already arranged a meet up tomorrow in front of our old high school with a couple of models. The school is on a grade-wide trip, so we’ll even have access to the track and field. I was also thinking disposable film? We could scan those.” 

“Alright, who are your models?” 

“Oh, you know. Just friends from school. I wanted it to be as authentic as possible. Taehyung flew back from Hamburg last night, so he said he’ll come. Jimin, obviously.” 

“Well you only had like, two friends in highschool.” 

“And you,” you clip on with a frown, “so don’t dress like a potato sack tomorrow, okay?” 

“I’m not modeling.” 

“Well, I’m still looking for a celebrity model to tack onto so. Don’t look like a chump.” you stick out your hand, while Jungkook pouts at your outstretched limb. If he feels sore that you called him a chump, he doesn’t comment on it when he clasps his larger hand in yours. “Partners?”

“Partners.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me your celebrity model was him?” 

“I specifically told you not to dress like a paper bag. Why did you continue to do so!” 

“You didn’t specify that your model was Kim Seokjin!” 

The current conversation is hushed, hissed between large reflective light panels and a parked car that held all your rented equipment. Currently, Taehyung, Seokjin and Jimin are huddled on the bleachers of your old stomping grounds, laughing at whatever funny video Seokjin has pulled up. They’re all dressed in variants of the same sweatsuit, a combination of Taehyung’s choosing since he’s one of the many color coordinators at Ego. 

But you haven’t started yet, and you would like to get some morning shots in before it gets any warmer. Jungkook is still petulant, pretending to buy time by balancing his tripod. He’s wearing his Birkenstocks, so old they’re definitely the same pair from highschool, and yet another black sweatsuit. 

“Seokjin’s like a big, fat cheeseball,” you assure Jungkook, who’s actually shaking from being in the presence of a celebrity. “No reason to be nervous.”

“That man has literally been part of our Sitcom Sundays for three years,” he gripes, “of course I’m nervous!” 

“Just go to the car. If you want to change I’m sure Taehyung’s brought something that fits you.”

“Well if they see me change they’re gonna see I’m trying too hard,” Jungkook pouts, he actually pouts. 

“I can’t,” you turn around, your Miss Frizzle-esque solar system dress whirling around your waist. The stars twinkle, glittering into Jungkook’s eyes. “Jungkook, do whatever you want. But we need to start in ten! No, five! I’m not paying you to try on Balenciaga and Off-Brand!” 

If Jungkook is shocked by your sudden snippiness or need to get things wrapped up, he doesn’t say anything to it. For once, he’s quiet about his needs and you’re thankful for it. Once he’s gone, you have a chance to breathe. It’s all wholly overwhelming to dive right into the job. Your brain is still in 2011 unfortunately.

“Babe, everything alright?” 

Seokjin appears behind you, having ditched Jimin and Taehyung after he saw you and Jungkook argue. He smooths his hands over your biceps. You’re still unsure over the exact nature of your adult-self’s relationship, but it seems that sans sex you two are relatively close with each other. 

“M’fine,” you mumble tiredly, trying not to stiffen under his hold. You suppose Jimin isn’t going to be the friend you confide into this lifetime. “I’m just nervous. We’re doing all this work and it can potentially go down the drain after this week. What if my idea’s stupid and we’re wasting time? Jennie texted me that her concept is going to be killer and now I’m scared this concept is too aesthetically soft and people don’t care about nostalgia anymore and I feel like simultaneously throwing up and crying—” 

“Whoa whoa, who’s replaced my confident editor and where did she go?” Seokjin decidedly goes with the notion that you’re definitely not fine. He swings his neck back and forth, peering behind the bleachers and over the football field. “My confident editor would never talk bad of herself like this! She commanded a whole crew of fifty within seconds when she did the Kim Taeyeon shoot in Milan! She never cowers under a challenge, the challenge cowers to her!” and in his gallancy you no longer try to shy away, in fact you even giggle at his silly way of comforting you. “And most importantly, she’d never compare herself to a wench like Jennie.” 

Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to swipe the moisture right under your waterline, making sure any traces of your crying are undetectable. “W-wait,” you sputter, “you mean, me and Jennie aren’t actually friends?” 

He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “Even now, you’re such a good actress.” 

You let Seokjin continue to hold you as the pieces in your empty mind come together. If Jennie is truly not your friend and you two have been faking it all this time, how serious is it? And if so, are you the competitive type? You know for sure Jennie is, and will she stop at nothing to make sure she gets the spread? 

This fear is combined with an equal amount of sadness. You were a little excited to have a lasting friend from college, but your mother always told you to never believe anything on the internet. You suppose those selfies of you and Jennie on your Instagram are nothing but a facade. 

But at the very least Seokjin’s care for you isn’t fake, and you’re thankful that you have at least one friend in this life. If you didn’t do this time skip, would Seokjin remain your only friend? You try not to think too hard about it, “Thanks, Seokjin. I really appreciate you.” 

“Will you appreciate me tonight then?” Seokjin makes a move to kiss your neck, and the moment is promptly ruined. 

Shoving him away you say firmly, “Touch me like that again and I’ll rip your dick off in front of this whole crew.” 

“I love it when you get feisty,” Seokjin melts, but salutes you like a drill sergeant as he runs back to the men on the bleachers. 

It’s then you feel a presence looming over your shoulder. Tall, dark, and emanating. He’s changed, in favor of some fitted jeans and a plain white shirt, paired with black boots. Jungkook is behind you, glaring over your shoulder at Seokjin. So much for showing off your professionalism. Crap, how much of that did he hear? 

“Jungkook, I–”

“Let’s start,” he mutters gruffly, stepping past you to get to the equipment. 

You slap a hand over your face. It’s going to be a long day. 

However, the hours following are probably one of the brightest hours of your life since you’ve appeared in your future-self’s body. At first Jimin was anxious at your invitation, despite being in the high school plays and being okay at public speaking, he didn’t know he’d have the potential to be a model. A couple test shots and some coaching from Taehyung, Jimin is a natural, his photogenic energy strong enough to compete toe-to-toe with Seokjin. 

You also have to hand it to Taehyung, who has been running back and forth between modeling and choosing outfits for the boys. Jimin and you didn’t run in the same group as Taehyung back in high school, but time changes things and if given the opportunity, you would’ve loved to be friends with him back then. 

By the time you are done for the day and you feel like all the possible shots have all ready been taken, you circle around the school. You previously went inside empty classrooms, posed in the cafeteria, even pretended to reenact your school rendition of RENT in the auditorium. 

Everything is mostly packed up and put into the car by the time the sun is setting, and you just wanted to perfect this one shot. 

The gymnasium looks a lot smaller than it did as a child. As a teenager, you constantly feared getting hit in the face by a stray wiffleball, or throwing up during the pacer test after the 100th lap. But now, it just looks like an old gym. 

“It smells like sweaty balls in there,” Taehyung curses, adjusting the patterned button down by smoothing down his chest. He jabs a finger in the boys locker room, where Jimin comes out with another new outfit. 

“I think the sandwich I left in senior year is still there,” Jimin adds, pulling the collar around his burgundy knitted sweater. 

The back of the gym is decorated in balloons. Overnight you managed to build a balloon ring off of Pinterest, one of your proudest moments as you made Jungkook haul the rainbow colored arc and shove it into the trunk. Seokjin is sitting directly under the arc, decorating a letter corkboard. It’s one of those cork boards all the teachers display in class, often decorated with some witty quote or a basic “Welcome to Mr/Mrs/Miss _____’s Class!” 

Jungkook is setting up the camera on a tripod, wanting to do it the old fashioned way. Aside from the freakout he had in the beginning when he realized he was photographing Kim Seokjin, he’s been quiet and strictly professional throughout the whole ordeal. It’s amazing to see this side of him, as he seamlessly transitions from shoot to shoot knowing exactly what he has in mind for each photograph. His direction is soft but impactful, and the boys have no problems following directions. 

“Okay boys, everyone under the arc!” 

Working like this is a rush you can’t even imagine. In high school the path you were in the process of choosing wasn’t clear cut up until this point, but now you know exactly what you want to do for the rest of your life. 

Seokjin holds the finished corkboard in the middle, a proud Class of Ego in white block letters. 

Jungkook only gets a few shots in before Seokjin bemoans, letting the corkboard fall in his lap. 

“Guys, this picture’s gonna stink.” 

Jungkook’s appalled, “Excuse me—” 

“Because you two aren’t in it!” Taehyung agrees easily, “c’mon, JK. Put your camera on timer mode and let’s have all of us in it!” 

A blush melts on Jungkook’s neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. “What? No, that’s silly Tae. I really don’t—agh!” 

The three men are in a controlled frenzy, aiming to get their mission done. Seokjin rounds the camera and makes quick work of enabling a timer and a burst shot. Jimin pulls you by the waist, tugging you ungracefully to the center of the arc. Taehyung is doing a pretty good job of hauling your muscle hunk of a photographer, pressing his shoulders across yours. 

And finally, Seokjin hands you the corkboard. “You should be holding it. After all, you’re the brains behind it!” 

At first it feels awkward, squished between new friends and old friends. First loves and last loves. Despite his warm bicep pressing against you, Jungkook is akin to a sheet of cardboard, arm-to-arm and stiff as a board. 

“Alright people, let’s move it!” Seokjin yells unnecessarily loud, the noise echoing throughout the high walls. “Last couple shots here, and we’re not re-doing it because I’m tired as hell! So look alive and pretend to like each other!” 

The first click of the camera stuns all of you, akin to many terrible school photos where the flash disarms you and your face twists. But that click suddenly gets Jungkook into gear, and you feel him slide a hand over your shoulder, squeezing you toward him so you’re pressed against the side of his chest. He still smells like floral fabric softener, and that makes you smile. 

And suddenly you feel like you’re seventeen again, surrounded with the people you care for the most. 

“So, the tabloids are true huh?” Jimin smirks, waving a flimsy fry in your face. 

“T-tabloids?” you sputter, dabbing the ketchup off your cheek. The greasy burger slips off your grip and onto your plate.  Your expression says it all, it’s painfully innocent and genuinely confused as you attempt to swallow the cheese and lettuce as fast as possible. 

The crew sans Seokjin is eating a very late dinner with you at the restaurant of their choice. They put it to a vote, while you desperately wanted some McDonalds everyone else voted for a more high end restaurant. After all, you’re paying. 

“Ah, don’t try playing coy with us,” Taehyung jests, “the office talks.” 

“Well, whatever you’ve heard isn’t true,” you huff, crossing your arms. “At least, not anymore.” 

“What?” Taehyung bugs out, “I thought you loved your no strings attached relationship with Jinnie.” 

“I guess I did,” you frown, deflating against the plush booth, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I liked back then.” 

You resume eating your burger, trying to ignore the worried look Jimin sends you. He reaches over the table to press his thumb to the little 11s in your forehead, a product of stress. “Does your head still hurt?” he asks. 

Jungkook’s chewing slows considerably. He’s been strangely quiet this evening, opting to order a handful of appetizers and gorging on every single edible thing on the table like a glutton. But at Jimin’s question he turns his head to look at you, “Why would your head still hurt?” 

“She hit her head when she went out drinking with Seokjin last week,” Jimin supplies, “messed with her memory.” 

“Chim,” you frown, gently shoving him off you, “I’m fine now. Pretty much caught up. Just reevaluating my life choices, okay?” 

“How could Seokjin let that happen?” Jungkook asks, putting his fork down. 

“He wasn’t even there,” you shake your head, trying to clear Seokjin’s name as fast as possible. After all, this lie is completely fabricated, a blanket to cover the magical properties your true nature being here has. “I’m fine, Jungkook. Don’t worry about me.” 

He huffs, resuming his meal. “Wasn’t worried,” he disarms, reaching over the table to snatch a mozzarella stick. 

You cover up your disgusted expression by wiping your chin with a soft blue napkin. Jungkook is really out here inhaling the whole table and being a bit of a jerk. 

“Well,” Taehyung claps his hands together, regarding all of you with a closed-lipped smile stretched so wide you’re worried he’ll break. “This is nice. I can’t imagine a time where I’d be reunited with you three. It’s weird. But a good weird.” 

“Ditto,” Jimin echoes, lifting his glass to clink with Taehyung’s. Throwing an arm over your shoulder he remarks, “could’ve never imagined my ‘ol best friend would’ve wanted to pursue fashion.” 

“What?” you glower, pinching his thigh, “I love fashion! I spent months planning my Clueless Halloween costume and our summers cosplaying!” 

“Right, Cher,” teased Jimin, “that yellow plaid suit that made you look like a bottle of mustard?” 

“You little–” 

Taehyung begins to laugh when you start to tickle Jimin in the sweet spots, causing Jimin to curl his leg around your ankle and pull you onto his lap for a hair pull. It’s all in fun and nothing hurts, but you’re so caught up in it you’re sure people are worried about your well-being. Even Jungkook is laughing, egging Jimin on while Taehyung weakly attempts to pull you away. 

If you could rewrite the last ten years of your life, this moment would define the remake. 

“Why are we here?” 

“For research purposes.” 

“Are you sure the actual purpose is because you don’t feel like working in the office?” 

“Jungkook,” you groan, tired of his infinite amount of negativity. “This was our senior trip! Of course I want to get a couple shots in before my big presentation.” 

“You’re risking my baby’s life,” Jungkook cradles the digital camera closer to his chest, swaddling it between its felt case. Ever since you purchased the camera, Jungkook has been unable to let it go. This adoption is both equal parts cute and strange, and you’re a little too scared to ask for it back. 

“I promise, no big rides,” you roll your eyes, “your baby will be fine.” 

The local amusement park is a fan-favorite amongst the city-goers, a reprieve from the hustle and a chance for you to spend your copious amounts of money on overpriced sugar and popcorn. The last time you went here was two weeks ago—in your mind. In Jungkook’s mind it was over ten years ago and he probably doesn’t even remember the time spent roaming the artificial floor and the infinite amount of bubbles that seem to eject from the air to add to the whimsical charm. 

Jungkook isn’t even paying attention, citing it as an artist block because he’s going through sensory overload with the amount of stimuli in the crowd. Screaming teenagers wailing under him from a nearby rollercoaster, the smell of sticky caramel apples pumping through the diffuser stands, and the amount of gaudy color that decorates every single logo of the park. 

He plops himself down on a nearby bench while you wait in line to get some food. It’s early in the morning and a weekday, so you figure this is the best time to get some photographs in without any passerbys. You figure Jungkook will get the hang of it once he has some food in his stomach. 

“A funnel cake?” Jungkook is bewildered when you return with the confection in hand, “it’s ten A.M.” 

You raise a brow, knowing how much Jungkook loves sweet foods. The funnel cake especially, he ate at least three when you went to your senior trip, one for every meal. But you’re an adult, or at least posing as one, and you shrug loftily, plucking a hot piece of fried dough from your plate. “Alright then,” you reply, “I’ll just eat the whole thing.” 

Once the cake touches your tongue, you can’t help but make an exaggerated moan in pleasure. You can feel Jungkook squirming like an earthworm next to you, either from the scrumptious smell of funnel cake or the way you’re so enthusiastically eating it. 

“W-wait,” Jungkook’s stomach growls at the perfect moment, “I want some. But I don’t want to get the camera dirty, pass me a napkin.” 

“I can just feed it to you!” you quip innocently, immediately ripping off a piece and shoving it between Jungkook’s pink lips. You feel a little slick in the finger, saliva briefly coating your digits before you pull away. You swallow, feeling a familiar tingle in your tummy and a sickening heat low in your belly. 

You fight back a sigh, wondering if your libido also did a massive growth spurt in your twenty-seven years of age. 

Jungkook is placated at the touch of food, and you take turns feeding yourself and feeding him while more customers trickle in the park. Confectioners sugar dusts Jungkook’s long-sleeved tee, the white color staining the dark fabric. You reach to pat his chest, ignoring the toneness that still remains from high school. 

“Alright, let’s ride,” you declare, pulling Jungkook up once you’re done eating. 

“Do we have to?” 

“What happened to the adrenaline junkie I once knew?” 

“He realized being an adrenaline junkie doesn’t make money and he should stay on the ground.” 

“Alright, Negative Nancy,” your reply has no bite to it, and suddenly you wished you invited Jimin or Seokjin before Jungkook. Jungkook may have the talent, but he certainly doesn’t have the attitude. You don’t even get why he’s still defensive, after all you thought he apologized in the beginning. It’s not like you’re the problem. 

“Gimmie your hand,” your thoughts cut out when Jungkook offers his large hand in front of yours, palm up. 

“Why?”

“C’mon,” he whines, settling for snatching your hand instead. His palms feel larger, rougher as they enclose your smaller hand. “Now hurry up and walk in front of me. I’m gonna take a picture.” 

You already have a feeling as to what this picture is going to look like, so you scrunch your nose. “That is so cheesy.” 

“It’s for the nostalgia factor, now hurry up and pretend we’re on a date.” 

You roll your eyes but relent, jogging a few steps ahead so you can get into character. This pose used to be a popular one, where the sweet boyfriend would be dragged around by the girlfriend’s hand, tugging him to wherever she wanted to go. It’s super cliche but if Jungkook figures it’ll fit your theme, you’ll do it. Eventually you forget that you’re holding his hand, and point ahead to some rides you want to try out. 

“Oh, Jungkook! Remember that one?” you point to a teacup ride, with guests spinning vigorously through their own seat. “Jimin got so sick he fell asleep in the car for an hour!” 

Jungkook doesn’t reply, so you turn around and face him. Click. Jungkook smirks at his little trick, which makes you rip your hand from his and walk further. 

“Hey, hey,” he chuckles, the first smile of the day. Food really does make him peaceful. “The shot looks good, you look good.” 

“Could’ve just asked me to turn around and pose,” you huff. 

“Then it would ruin the fun,” he replies, “now c’mon, let’s ride the teacups. For old time’s sake.” 

Ten minutes later and the both of you are soon regretting that decision. You’re once again slumped on the bench, this time unable to keep your head up so you rest it on Jungkook’s shoulder while he leans on your head. 

“Haven’t rode that since I was a teenager,” Jungkook moans, holding his stomach. “Remind me not to eat so fast before getting on that kind of ride.” 

You mirror his expression, feeling green. “Is this what late-adult life feels like?” 

“Yep,” Jungkook replies, unbeknownst of how shocked you are at how weak your body has become. “You wake up with back pain, pre-arthritis from all the typing you’ve done over the last decade, and a lot of stress. Definitely not the fantasy you’d imagine from your 20s.” 

“You think you’d be less stressed if you kept your lacrosse scholarship?” 

“Nah, I think I saved myself,” Jungkook shakes his head, “before I could be any more awful than I already was.” 

You refuse that notion, sending him a bitter smile. “Well, look at me. I became awful right after high school.” 

“I didn’t mean you—”

“I know,” you hold up a hand to stop him. The two of you follow a red path up the hill, leading to a simple cable car ride. It’s a slow travel ride, made to get from one side of the park to the other with a beautiful view over the lake. “But you see those tabloid articles. They must be true.” 

“I—I didn’t think they were all true,” Jungkook’s lying through his teeth to make you feel better, but you don’t care. “Why do you sound unsure?” 

You shrug, “Probably wasn’t sober for most of my bad decisions,” considering your friendship with Seokjin and his boisterous drinking attitude, you wouldn’t be surprised, “If they weren’t true, I believe Jimin and I would’ve stayed friends. I can’t imagine why I left my home like that. But I guess it doesn’t matter too much because I came back. And I mean, we’re here together doing work,” you gesture between the small space between each other, “I think that counts for something.”  

The two of you walk in silence for a bit, contemplating. The line to the cable car isn’t long but it’s slow, considering the cable only moves a couple meters a second. The take-off area is a risen slab of concrete, and the cars are continuously moving so you have to hop on one car as soon as another guest exits. 

There’s a little bit of space between it, a centimeter gap that could be nerve wracking if there’s no staff around. You think nothing of it as you fiddle on your phone, waiting for the staff member to let you and Jungkook in on the next car. 

Jungkook enters first, taking great care to cradle the camera in one hand so it doesn’t sway against the car. The car swings a little as well, and Jungkook holds out a hand for you to grab. 

Instead you focus on how the once bright glassy pink is sun-ravished, faded and rusting on the metal door flaps. The color is almost pearlescent, vastly different than the vivid color you saw two weeks ago. You almost want to reach out and touch it, wondering where that quality went. 

“Bun, be careful!” 

The tip of your heel nicks on the stepping stone, slipping like butter as you topple forward. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up, hauling you into the car just as the metal door locks into place. The hard plastic of the camera digs into your chest uncomfortably as you plop on top of Jungkook, between his legs as half his thighs rest against the uncomfortable seat. 

“Were you not watching where you were going?” Jungkook huffs, blowing his bangs over his forehead. 

Instead of an artful answer you blurt, “You, you called me Bun.” 

His eyes widen at your response, and his grip loosens around your body. His eyes dart anywhere but your face, his cheeks ruddied and stained coral as he moves to remove you from his body. “It was a slip of the tongue,” he coughs, turning on his camera and getting shots of the lake. 

You huff in response, sticking to your side of the carriage. “I missed it,” you murmur to the wind, although you make yourself loud enough for him to hear. 

You try to bury your sour expression in your sleeves, just to hide how absolutely childish you feel. You don’t even care that Jungkook is trying to take pictures of you looking out the view, only trying to eradicate the feelings that are still down deep in your blood. Even the twenty-seven year old Jungkook is charming, albeit in a completely different way. 

The grown, mature Jungkook toots to his own horn. He isn’t concerned about a team or an image, and gave it all up to pursue an art he loves. The lacrosse jerseys exchanged for bulky long sleeves, the sport for a camera, and a mask for his true image. 

“Let’s go,” Jungkook takes your hand again when the ride stops, not letting go until you’re on steady ground. You figure he must think you walk like a toddler barely on her first mile. 

Would Jungkook like you even as an adult? With all this money, this power and this confidence you envisioned as a seventeen-year-old, it still doesn’t feel enough for him. In fact, you feel like a sore thumb sticking out, decorated in silly rumors and expensive clothes that separate you far from your roots. 

“Hey,” Jungkook touches your arm, pointing to a basketball carnival game, “remember this one?” 

“Yeah,” forcing a smile, you follow him to the small crowd that starts to form around the basketball game. The baskets are a short distance from the player, but so high up that it’s hard to tell the shape of the hoop. “I tried to tell you that it was completely rigged. From an angle you can see it’s still oval-shaped.” 

“And I told you it didn’t matter if the hoop was an octagon, I’d get you that prize,” he jerks a thumb to the prize booth, where a blue Piplup plush sits proudly with all the other starter Pokemon. “And I did.” 

“It’s still in my room,” you reply proudly, even though Jungkook is acting almost immaturely smug. “I, I mean it’s still in my room in my parent’s house. It’s probably lonely because my parents have been on a cruise for almost two weeks.” 

He raises a brow, eyes drifting to the booth. “Should I win another one to keep your bed in the city warm?” 

“That sounded oddly sexual.” 

“You know what I mean,” and Jungkook’s rolling up his sleeves, handing you the camera. 

“Jungkook,” you whine when he pulls out a roll of bills from his pocket, as if he prepared for this moment, “Jungkook c’mon—I don’t need any stuffed animals. Ugh.” 

You swear that the majority of your day is spent watching Jungkook blow cash on a low-quality stuffed animal with packaging pellets for the inside. Turns out carnival technology has also enhanced over the years, and it takes both your whining and the clerk’s whining to stop Jungkook from blowing his entire wallet to get one basket in. Eventually the staff relents and lets Jungkook take a Piplup keychain instead, glumly handing it over to you. 

“I like this better,” you chirp, clipping the ring onto your car keys, “now I can bring Piplup everywhere.” 

A small, barely there smile appears on Jungkook’s face. 

The rest of the day melts away like that, and before you know it the sun is slipping into the horizon and you’re being dropped off at your apartment. Jungkook even insists to walk you to your door, because your prizes are heavy. (Yes, he went back for the oversized Piplup.) 

It’s all too familiar, the way the walk upstairs is achingly slow, as if the moment is stretching itself down the hallway. How Jungkook looks so prideful holding the fruits of his labor, following you with a tug of your hand because the prize is too big for Jungkook to see straight. 

At the same time it’s different. The way you wobble around the hallway because you’re a little tipsy from wine flights is noticeable, even cute. How easy it is to not feel nervous when you clutch at his hand. How you two look like a seasoned couple, coming home from an all-day date. 

It ends at the front door, and you crack it open so you can slip your prizes through the crack. 

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you hold up the SD card that held all the precious memories of this week. 

This is where you part ways. You’ll spend the rest of the night editing your presentation, while Jungkook promised to go to a bar with his friends. A little part of you hoped you’d be invited, but you knew that would be impractical considering you have work in the morning. 

“Break a leg,” he says, leaning on the balls of his feet with his hands in his pockets, “you’ll do great. You’ve always been meant to do great things.” 

The investment he lays on you is insurmountable, and you feel yourself flush with simultaneous excitement and anxiety. Unknowing how to calm your nerves, you give him a small “thank you” and put your hand on the knob to slip away. 

“Wait—” 

You blink, a deer in the headlights as Jungkook swoops down and kisses you. 

You’ve received kisses—kisses reserved for a twenty-seven year old, before. Seokjin is an eager lover, and you felt it that fateful morning and even during your photoshoot when he tried to be sneaky and pull you away. Fleeting bites, kisses to the neck that are wet and hot.

Jungkook’s kiss does not feel like that. It feels like home. It feels like coming home after a long day of work, wrapping yourself in an old afghan and a hot cup of tea. The feeling of hot laundry, fresh front the dryer and smelling of floral softener. It tastes like ten years lost in a void, returning to your senses and lighting you up.

He holds you as if you’ll disappear right in front of him. Large hands cup your face, like a precious thing he never wants to let go. Your hands can do nothing but grapple after his, nails digging into his skin. 

“Good night, Jungkook,” you send him a lovestruck smile, a puppy love face. 

“Good bye, Bun,” he replies simply, jogging down the hallway. 

Being twenty-seven starts to feel a little more like heaven. 

Jennie used to annoy you in high school, but now she just down right scares you. 

Her presentation is one straight out of a thriller, with red shadow lights and neon green splattered in the dark room. Her models are intense, her designs are beautiful but overwhelmingly chaotic, and the whole affair is rather grotesque. The headline Fashion Suicide glares at you in a morbid scarlet font. 

Hoseok sends her a tight-lipped smile, and presses a button on his desk. “I need my antacids, Krystal,” Hoseok deadpans. 

Nothing betrays Jennie’s wicked expression, in fact her smirk widens at Hoseok’s fear. 

You on the other hand, are cool as a cucumber when you walk up to the front of the conference room. In fact, you barely have to say anything as the presentation presents itself. Jungkook took the liberty of making a video compilation for you, one that they could use in YouTube and Instagram promotions. 

“This, is preserving our youth,” you declare proudly, letting the video play. The music that accompanies it is very coming-of-age, like a yearbook slideshow of all the pictures you took. Taehyung, Jimin and Seokjin hold their arms around each other in matching attire, looking like friends for life. There’s even some videos of you and Jungkook at the park, playfully arguing at each other. “I’m tired of seeing people who could care less about my life, who I can’t relate to.” 

“This issue is for the unsung heroes—my best friend’s older sibling, the captain of the football team, and the black sheep with a dream.” 

The video cuts to Jungkook, looking ultra cool at the camera while he’s dictating Seokjin’s moves. It was taken on your phone, and you’re zooming in on Jungkook’s serious face before it breaks into a laugh, eyes crinkling and bunny teeth showing at whatever stupid thing Seokjin said. 

And finally, the video fades into a mock cover. The five of you are beaming at the camera, cheek-to-cheek as you hold up the placard: Ego: Class of Youth. 

Needless to say, the issue is yours. 

You ignore Jennie’s icy stare as you leave the room to negotiate with the creative teams on a set schedule. However, it seems that you can’t get a bit of rest when Jennie waits for you in your office.

“Jennie, get off of my desk,” you frown, watching a coffin-tipped nail flicking against a photograph of you holding hands with Jungkook in the amusement park. It hangs on a corkboard, standing up with all the other ideas that you and Jungkook have spent the last week meticulously planning.The black enamel scratches at your smiling face. You are not having this, not after all your hard work and all the meetings that have just been planned. 

Her feet dangle in the air, kicking back and forth as she sings your name. “You’re still such a child,” she sighs dramatically. “In fact, I think your cute little-wittle idea would suit something more like Highlights or Disney Monthly.”

“You’re just upset I did better than you,” you cross your arms.

Jennie’s nail slices your visage in half. 

“You’re right,” Jennie turns a 180 and gives you a bright, candy-coated smile. “Your idea is so good, it doesn’t suit Ego. In fact, I’m sure the editors at Mono will pay a pretty penny.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Ugh, you are such a fake.” Jennie giggles, “now, did you send this idea to Namjoon yet? Their publishing date is two weeks before ours, so I’m sure they’re getting to work on this whole Throwback Thursday spread.” 

You can’t believe the words coming from Jennie’s mouth. Before all of this, just how awful of a person were you? How could you sabotage your company on the regular, just to get paid a little extra dough for a rival company? It makes you think about what could’ve possibly changed. Had leaving your friends without a care in the world made you into this lost adult, grappling at the seams for attention? In college, did Jennie coerce you into being manipulative and backstabbing, and because without Jimin and needing confidence in a friend, you reluctantly agreed?

The coffee from this morning starts to back up in your throat, but you immediately tamp it down. No, you can’t be pushed around like this. You can’t keep pushing people around. You don’t want a life like this, and if you ever return to your old life, you’ll damn make sure you’ll create a future without Jennie in the picture. 

“I’m not going to send anything to Mono, and I’ve already fessed up to Hoseok,” you lift your nose in the air, voice impeccably clear for someone who’s absolutely bluffing. But Jennie’s face hits the ground, immediately buying your lie. You suppose you did become a good actress after ten years. Maybe Seokjin taught you a few pointers. “So if I were you, I’d swallow your tongue before words get around. I worked it out but don’t be surprised if a pink slip comes your way.” 

Turns out that no matter what, high school never ends. There will always be backstabbers and freaks and geeks. A mean girl that you subconsciously try so hard to appease, a grade that defines your life, and drama up to the neck. 

“He doesn’t like you, y’know,” Jennie whispers, but the words are loud and clear and you know exactly who she’s talking about. “Never had, and never will.” 

“You’re wrong,” you hold your hands, clasping them together to keep them from trembling, “he likes me.” 

So you leave the office, determined to prove yourself. That kiss last night was nothing short of magical, and it took a lot of strength for you to not drive up to Jungkook’s apartment in the morning in the hopes for another one. You pick up a pizza near his place, filling it up with your favorite toppings on one half and his favorites on his. A bottle of peach champagne is nestled between your arms. In the bathroom while waiting for your pizza, you’ve wriggled out of your tight suit and into a blue hoodie and bicycle shorts. Tonight, you’re celebrating. 

You’re vibrating as you’re knocking eagerly on his front door, excited to tell him the news. You hear a rustle from the couch, and some blankets shifting about. He must’ve passed out after going to the bar, how cute. 

But when the door opens, the vision in front of you is far from cute.

A woman, with cat eyes and a slim figure, tilts her head at you. She’s dressed in a large white shirt, transparent enough to show her lacy black bra and panties. Bruises decorate her neck and thighs, like red and purple gems. Her long black hair swishes, slightly frizzy at the bottom. 

“Can I help you?” her voice is sultry and velvety. “Are you looking for JK?” 

It’s obvious as to what transpired. Jungkook dipped after kissing you and fucked another woman. A woman who’s the complete opposite of you. Someone flirty and sexy and willing to give Jungkook what he wants. You don’t know who you should be mad at. 

“Who’s at the door?” Jungkook calls from the inside, and you nearly drop your bottle at the sound of the rasp. They must’ve had a fuckfest if they’re just waking up now.

Your cheeks are burning. Your heart is aching. And the vile that bubbled up from Jennie’s tirade is now resurfacing. From the way your eyes are watering, you must look like a crybaby. 

“Say, JK,” the woman closes the frame tighter around her small head, preventing you from seeing inside and for Jungkook to peer, “do you have any pathetic ex-girlfriends?” 

“No,” comes the muffled reply, “come back to bed, it’s getting cold without you,” the pizza starts to burn uncomfortably against your grip, “why the random question?” 

“Dunno, seems like you’ve had at least one.” 

At that moment, your savior appears in grey jeans and a beige hoodie. Jimin walks up to the floor, clutching a bag of groceries. It’s not hard to put two and two together as he spots you looking incredibly small in front of the strange woman, trying so hard not to break down. 

Your tears finally fall when Jimin reaches you. “Wrong room,” you mutter under your breath, quickly following your old best friend when he shoves you in his apartment. 

No words need to be explained when Jimin leaves the groceries on the coffee table and he’s pulling you onto his lap. You clutch him like a koala, rubbing mascara and blush all over his clothes as you sob. He pats your back and soothes your hiccups by offering you a glass of water. The stages of your meltdowns are pretty cut and dry, even after ten years. He still encourages you to finish the whole glass. He makes sure you have something to eat. He cuts your pizza into little bite sized pieces and feeds you. He doesn’t pressure you to talk until you’re ready, although he has a hunch as to what’s going on. 

And when you talk, he doesn’t expect a firm, “Take me home,” from you. 

“O-okay,” Jimin agrees immediately, pulling you into a sitting position. “Uptown, right? We can call an Uber or something and order from a restaurant.” 

“No,” you reply firmly, “Home-home. I want to go back to my parent’s house.” 

“That’s fine too,” he squeezes your shoulder, accepting the fob you hold out to him, “it’ll take about an hour, but I think the drive will be nice.” 

So you two sneak off into the sunset, clutching twin slices of pizza as you roll away into your Tesla. Jimin is right, ten minutes into the drive and you’re soothed by his smooth driving and the scent of fried cheese and dough. Your friend has been calm all this time, so you figure this is the right time for him to pop off. Again, this is also part of your breakdown routine. 

“Say, does this thing do calls?” Jimin asks, fiddling with the settings on your steering wheel, “Tesla, call Jeon Jungkook.” 

“Jimin,” you say weakly, although the little malicious side of you wants to goad him on. You don’t bother to fight the best friend territorialism, you just watch as his hands clutch at the steering wheel as the speakers ring. 

Jungkook picks up on the second ring, “Hey!” he says brightly, and it makes your chest pang to know how oblivious he is, “how did the presentation go?” 

“Fuck you, Jungkook!” you cover your free hand on your ear at Jimin’s shrill yell, louder than the speakers that carry Jungkook’s voice. “Fuck you for breaking my best friend’s heart twice!” 

The silence is deafening. It’s scary, like you could slash a butter knife right through the tension. 

Jimin continues, “I can understand high school because you were a real doofus, but this! You fucking lead my best friend on, only to fuck another girl right under her nose! She came all the way to your apartment from a long-ass day at work to celebrate and you ruin that day! I thought you’ve grown for the better but turns out nothing has changed since prom night. You’re still the stupid, confused little boy that doesn’t want to admit how they really feel,” you gasp at the blow, watching Jimin’s gritted teeth as he zooms down the freeway on a mission. “Good fucking riddance, Jeon!” 

Jimin punches the “hang up” button. A couple seconds of heavy breathing, and he turns to you with a gentle smile. 

“So, you want to listen to Taylor Swift’s new album?” 

Your room is lost in time. The Hunger Games novels are stacked on your shelf, looking old and worn. A Glee poster hangs over your four-poster bed, the yellow and red faded and the corners hanging by a thread from the old tape. The sheets are a pale pink, ruffly and definitely not in style anymore. When you sit on it, it creaks uncomfortably. 

You hug yourself, tucking your knees in as Jimin marvels at the room with an equal amount of awe. 

“If you could, would you go back to high school?” Jimin asks, sitting at the edge of your bed. 

With a lazy shrug, you smile at your collection of polaroids that are hanging above your vanity. You’re still hurt, but the pain is no longer rolling in waves. “Maybe,” you reply, “probably would’ve taken you to Europe with me.” 

He chuckles, “Is that the only thing you would change?” 

“If I knew what I knew now?” you tilt your head, “I don’t know.” 

Jimin gets off your bed, pressing a kiss into your forehead. “I’m gonna raid the kitchen and see if we can make something for dinner, yeah? Since your parents are on vacation and your fridge is probably empty, don’t  judge me if there’s only Totino’s pizza rolls and nuggets in the freezer.” 

When Jimin leaves your room, you quietly close the door and lock it. You lean against the cracked wooden door, falling onto the carpet and letting the tears fall. Is this what the rest of your life is going to be like? Evading pain and working too hard and trying everyday to stay afloat? Is adult life always going to be this difficult?  

These past two weeks have been nothing short of a rollercoaster. Major highs and major lows, and after today you thought you reached the end of the ride. However, it’s looking like the ride has no destination in mind, rolling in waves and finding a new hill or loop to catch you off-guard. 

“Are you kidding—how did you know we were here?” Another corkscrew. 

“You’re a turtle on the road, Jimin. Now move out of the way.” 

Jungkook’s voice startles you, and you tense when you see the gold door knob jiggle. Of course as strong as Jimin is, he’s no match for Jungkook. You hear Jimin grumble to curse Jungkook out, and the sound of him stomping down the stairs. 

“Hey, open up. Please,” Jungkook’s voice is weak and strained, and you only hug yourself tighter as the knocks continue. “Or, don’t. It seems like you can listen to me perfectly from here. I can hear your breathing.” 

You don’t say a peep, preferring to let everything fizzle out. Hopefully Jungkook will give up, say a pathetic sorry and be on his merry way. You don’t know why he’s followed you all the way over here, why would he bother coming when the damage is already done. 

There’s a slide of fabric across wood, and you can feel the door shake against your back as Jungkook leans on his side out in the hallway. 

“Back in high school, Jennie proposed that I date you to get back at you for stealing Jennie’s sewing sample and getting the higher grade,” you close your eyes, letting the story unravel. “She wanted to build you up before breaking you down, and back then I was vulnerable and thrived on attention, so I thought nothing of it.” 

You hear a breathy exhale from his side, as if it pains him to continue, “But obviously, it wasn’t true and I only realized it until I was way too deep. I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you. We were so wrapped up in this relationship I even convinced myself it was real, until Jennie said she’d crush you at prom night.

“I should’ve tried harder to convince us not to go. I should’ve told Jennie to fuck off. I should’ve come clean. I should’ve done something,” his fist bangs against your door, the vibrations of the impact thrumming in your back, “seeing you so beautiful in that dress all heartbroken because I didn’t act sooner. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Hearing him pour his heart out is like watching your memories in his shoes. The pieces find homes and paint a picture left unfinished. 

“And then when you showed up at my doorstep, I was so angry. I knew you felt it. But I wasn’t upset at you, I was upset at myself. I felt so fucking guilty. I hated how easy it was for you to let me back into your life. I hated how easy it was to fall for you all over again. I knew how much I didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but you gave it to me and I was too selfish to refuse. I had so much fun, the most fun I’ve had in awhile. 

“I’m sorry I kissed you. I didn’t intend for it to I just, I couldn’t help myself. And then I was so scared that I turned away and made the second biggest regret to date.

“But it proves that we’re not meant to be together. I don’t deserve you,” the last part is hushed, a nail in the coffin, “we can’t turn back the time, but if I could I would change it all. I would be by your side and make your world even better than it is right now. I’m sorry it’s too late.” 

You clutch your mouth, suppressing the cries that muffle through the door. You hear Jungkook get up from your old carpet, turn the other way and head downstairs. 

Your first love just closed the chapter for you. His words show how much he cared for you, but didn’t know how to express it. How immature he was, how he realized everything too late. And now, he wants to set you free. Even if it is a good thing, it still tears you to shreds. 

Moving to your vanity, you pull out the chair and lean your head on the table, eyes poking through your hair. You look awful. The skin under your waterline is puffy and your eyes are red and bloodshot. Your forearms feel greasy, and you lift them up to reveal glitter painting the entirety of your skin. Your eyes dart to the open glitter, the package that Jimin gifted to you that fateful prom night. The compact is broken in half and left on the table, probably a product of your younger cousins fiddling through your old room. 

Ignoring the sticky feeling, you let yourself continue to cry. You feel like you’re stuck in the bathroom of the prom venue, waiting for an opportunity to sneak out and go. 

But you want nothing more than to go back to that moment. As amazing as your twenty-seven year old life is, you’re not ready for it. You don’t want a life without Jungkook, or a life having to constantly catch up and mend your relationship with Jimin. You don’t want to be the backstabbing bitch that tips off other magazines, or the two-faced woman who messes around with others for the sake of pleasure.

You long to go back. You long to live and grow. To be seventeen and have time to grow in-between. 

When you lift your head from your vanity, you’re ten years younger.

You scream. 

Your parents dash to your room with a kitchen knife and a confused face. With a wary smile and a teary gaze you say that it’s only a pimple. Your mother giggles and drops the knife, hugging you and helping you conceal the invisible mark. The hug is so warm and so missed that you nearly sigh in content. You’ve missed them. 

It’s a little strange to think well beyond your years, your brain still reeling from the trip you’ve just had. Your hands smooth over your body, the previous curves and maturity hidden away in your skin. That’s okay, you don’t mind waiting anymore. There’s much more important things at hand. 

If Jungkook isn’t going to realize his mistakes until it’s too late, you have to speed up the process. 

Stealing your parent’s keys and hopping in your Accord, you drive off to Jungkook’s. Hair and makeup not done, and still in your plain shirt and jeans. An hour from now, Jungkook will text you saying his car is down and he’ll meet you at the venue. 

It’s still rush hour, so he doesn’t notice when you park a few houses down. He’s sitting on his front porch, looking out the road. There’s really nothing in front of him, he’s just staring aimlessly, probably nervous about what’s about to go down tonight. You suppress a sigh, engraving the vision to memory. He looks great in his fitted black suit and tie, a little silver pocket square on the breast to match your dress. 

He gets up quickly when he sees you, as if caught in the act. Staring at your plain clothes he asks, “Bun, why aren’t you dressed? Prom’s soon—”

“Jungkook, I want to break up.” 

You see it in his eyes. Vulnerability. No longer do you feel insecure, the future told you that Jungkook genuinely did care for you back then. Or in this case, right now. His usual cheery expression crumples at your feet, and his hands fall at his sides. It feels a little unfair, knowing that you have experience under your belt, and Jungkook’s experiencing these feelings for the first time, unprepared. 

“What?” he wilts, “why?” 

“I know about Jennie’s plan,” you say instantly, unfazed. You give him a tight-lipped smile when realization hits his face. “So I know this whole relationship is orchestrated. The sewing sample fiasco is wrong, obviously. But I’m not going to get mad at you, I know she played you as much as she played me,” you clasp the straps of your purse, stopping you from fidgeting, “we graduate in a few months anyway. We don’t have to see or talk about this ever again. You should go enjoy your prom night with your other friends.” 

The present-day Jungkook is still young and confused. He’s at a loss, looking like he’s on sensory overload as he absorbs all the information. You see his eyes flicker to where your Accord is parked, your prom dress hanging on one of the arm pulls. You never even pulled it out of the bag. 

“Here,” you pull his corsage from your purse, placing the white rose atop the porch. If you try to put it on him, you fear you may never leave. With a determined huff, you turn around in the direction of your car.

“Where are you going?” he asks, clutching the railing of his porch, “what about prom?” 

“I have other plans,” you shrug over your shoulder, “have a good night.” 

You don’t look back, although you feel Jungkook’s stare burning in your head. You take great care in going into drive and punching in a new destination in your clunky GPS. This time you have to do things one at a time, once you get your Tesla ten years from now, you’re sure this process will be much easier. 

Jimin’s family comes out of the airport, looking impeccable as always. Ten years younger, with puffy cherub cheeks and bright eyes. To your surprise (but also all things considered, it’s Jimin), your best friend comes out in a three-piece suit. It’s burgundy, and suits his dark hair well. He places his luggage into your car, hugs his family good-bye and waits for them to depart in their cab. 

“You are all dressed up, and for what,” you chuckle, driving out of the airport.

“Well, when you sent that voicemail that you’d be waiting for me, I changed in the bathroom,” Jimin quips, already fiddling with your radio to play some poppy overplayed music, “but why aren’t you dressed? I thought we were going to be fashionably late to prom. Spill.”

“Hm, let’s talk about it in the morning. I wanna enjoy my prom night,” and you reach over to ruffle Jimin’s soft black strands, “y’know, you’d look really sexy as a blond.” 

He pulls down your mirror, positioning it over his face. Pursing his plush lips, he tilts his head. “Yeah, maybe when I’m older,” he grins at his reflection, “so if we’re not going to prom, let’s go get pizza.” 

So the two of you get pizza. But not before you take your prom pictures. Your parents meet you at the park with their old digital camera, ready for your impromptu photoshoot. Jimin uses an old tarp to cover the car up while you change in the car, shimmying in your sparkly silver tulle dress. Your hair is held up and away from your face, looking clean enough to be presentable as you pose for the camera. The two of you pick yellow dandelions from the grass, matching flowers as last minute dates. Your parents coo and are happy for you, knowing that even if you don’t attend the actual dance, the pictures will last forever and you’ll smile at them for years. 

Eventually you tell Jimin about Jungkook and the whole fiasco (sans the ten year mental time jump.) The reaction is expected, Jimin says he wants to fuck Jungkook up. Surprisingly for him, he doesn’t have to do much to console you. In fact, you sip coolly from your smoothie and say Jungkook will probably let Jimin get a punch in even though Jungkook can bench press his tiny body in half. But you tell him you’re okay, and all you want to do is go home and binge watch. 

Jimin carries the pie in his lap while you pull up your driveway. The smell of toasty cheese and fresh dough fill your car. 

“I want to watch Sky City,” Jimin sing-songs, “Kim Seokjin is God’s gift!” 

You crinkle your nose, “He’s alright.” 

“What! You thought he was so hot like, last week.” 

“Things change.” 

Jimin makes it to your room first, saying he’ll take care of setting things up. He’ll probably steal all the available cushions and make a fort for himself while he puts a picnic blanket on the floor in front of your television. You can imagine him hogging all your stuffed animals, placing it on his side of the carpet while he rifles through your drawers so he can change out of his suit. 

Your parents tell you to take out the trash before you have fun tonight. Careful not to get your dress dirty, you hold it away from your body as you waddle out the front door. You make it two steps into the driveway before the soggy trash bag is whisked from your hands.

“I got it,” Jungkook says quietly, and it takes little to no effort for him to haul the large bag into the waiting trash can. His shoulders are slumped under his white button-up, his suit jacket probably stuffed somewhere in the back of the car. 

“Jungkook,” you reply, dumbfounded, “it’s only eight, prom isn’t even over yet.” 

“I know… but then I realized you weren’t gonna get your money’s worth if you didn’t go. I asked the waitress if she could get me a doggie bag for my date and,” he holds up a stapled bag, presumably the dinner that was supposed to be served, “it’s your favorite.” 

“Thank you,” you give him a small, grateful smile as you accept the bag. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.” 

He bites his lip, stuffing his hands in his dress pockets. “A-and you told me before you left that I should go spend prom night with my friends,” he ruffles his hair, blown out of the pomade and falling into his eyes, “and then I realized that you were right. Jennie and all those people out there aren’t really my friends. They like my rep and they like my attention, but they don’t like me.” 

You shake your head, “Jungkook, you’re very likable. Jennie and her group are just one bad bunch.” 

“But I don’t wanna be liked by my rep. I wanna be liked for the things I love,” he steps a hesitant step towards you, and he relaxes when he sees that you don’t recoil, “I haven’t told anyone this. But I want to drop that sports scholarship. I applied to an art school, and I got in.” 

Suppressing a grin with a bite of your lips, you cheer silently in your head. Things are changing. “I’m so happy for you, Jungkook. Congrats.” 

“And I’m sorry for all the fucked up things I did. Jennie may have manipulated me but I definitely was a big part of it,” Jungkook pulls the words out of the sky, finally having enough time to formulate an apology, “but please don’t doubt for a second that my feelings are fake. I really like you, and I wish we got to know each other under better circumstances.”

“I wish we could’ve,” you echo sadly. “But our futures—” 

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you.”

You shake your head, frowning at his kicked puppy expression. “I’m considering a fashion school in Europe,” you reach for Jungkook’s hand, squeezing it. Letting him know that everything’s going to be okay. “You and Jimin can visit me during the breaks, Europe has some great spots to photograph.” 

Something in Jungkook’s gaze tells you that it’s not enough for him. He wants to be selfish and hold onto you tighter, but you know that’s not good for the both of you right now. “That’d be nice,” he says vaguely, giving you a pained smile. 

Jungkook rubs his thumb over your hand, relishing in the softness of your skin. “You look really pretty,” he says, looking forlornly over the dress. He can only imagine how ethereal you’d look under the fairy lights that decorated the venue, “I wish we could’ve had one dance.” 

You shrug, “The night’s still young,” you gesture to the space in the driveway, and the lights that overhead the garage. 

The slow Taylor Swift music that plays from his pocket is muffled, but it doesn’t deter either of you as he places his hands on your waist and you wrap his around his neck. You’re wearing your bunny house slippers and Jungkook’s neck is moist from his nervous sweats, but you know that this memory will be engraved in your brain for years to come. 

It feels good to know that from now on, you don’t have to be so concerned about the future now that you’ve had a taste of it. All you want now is to take it one day at a time. At this moment the, the only thing you want to do is focus on how you’re going to hold onto Jungkook for the last time. At least for now, who knows what will happen in the future. 

“I really want to kiss you, Bun,” he leans in, foreheads touching, “but I don’t deserve it.” 

“You’re right,” you tease, “you don’t.” 

He frowns playfully, “Ouch. But fair.” 

Yet you figure you’ve made enough headway these past few weeks, and you deserve to be a little selfish. One last kiss, you think to yourself. Your fingers flatten against the pressed material of his collar, meeting in the middle to clutch Jungkook’s slim black tie. Jungkook bites his lip, looking down at you for permission. With the tiniest of nods, you get on your tippy toe toes you lean forward and you can smell the apple cider lingering on his lips—

“Ohmygod—are you broken up or not!” both of you whip your heads up to see Jimin hanging over your open window, looking absolutely bored. His arms dangle over your sill, wearing a frayed high school jumper. “Either tell him to get lost or invite him over to watch television because I’m hungry!” 

You pull away from him fully, squeezing his biceps. “Want pizza?” 

He shakes his head, “I think it’s a trap. Jimin’s waiting for me to come up so he can rip my head off,” he gives a tentative wave to the second floor, but Jimin just scoffs and goes back inside, “but I’ll see you Monday.” 

“Okay. Good night, Kook.” 

“Good night, Bun.” 

Your heart pinches a little as you watch him drive away. Before, you knew what the end game was between you two. It didn’t end pretty. Now, you’re not so sure. At the very least, it isn’t ending on a sour note. 

Some time later.

“Your majesty,” you give her a practiced smile, taking careful measures not to brush the lady’s shoulders too hard in the fear she’ll whittle away, “emerald is an impeccable color on you.” 

The Queen of England (the McDuckin' Queen of England!) just laughs at you and waves you off. You can’t believe you’re photographing a real queen. This is like the childhood equivalent of meeting Malibu Barbie. You thank every single choice and mistake you’ve made in your entire life that has brought you up to this impeccable moment. She’s a vision, you could cry. In fact, you’ll cry later in the comfort of your hotel room. “Do you think the photographer will take long?” she asks, frowning, “I have drinks with my friends in an hour.” 

You smirk, pleased to know she’s still kicking it in her golden years. “Yeah, just so long as my husband doesn’t get distracted. Fifteen minutes, tops.” 

“I’m not distracted,” Jungkook huffs, pulling away from his tripod. He gives up on trying to stabilize the camera, instead preferring to go freehand for this one. He gives you an incredulous look, hands on his hips, “I have two queens in my viewfinder and I only got room for one. Get out of the shot, Bun.” 

With a playful roll of your eyes, you step away from the lady of the hour to let Jungkook do his thing. He’s right in his element, blurting choreographed poses and telling the lighting people to move at his beck and call to get the perfect angle. You stand a distance behind him, letting him take control. 

“I’m so hungry,” your whisper is low enough to blend between the jazz music, but loud enough for Jungkook’s ears to listen in, “please tell me you’re almost done.” 

“Oui, oui.” 

“Wrong language, Kook. Please don’t offend anyone,” and discreetly, you take one step closer in your Tory Burch flats, “did you get any candids of me and the Queen?” 

“Duh, Bun,” you can’t see his face but you know he’s grinning, “Jimin will faint.” 

"Oh, yes! Thank you, I love you," you gush, reaching over to discreetly pinch his butt. 

He shakes his head, looking over his shoulder to give you a brief smirk, "Show me how thankful you are tonight." 

So silly, you think. It's amazing how well you work together as two separate entities of a photoshoot yet share a brain cell in the presence of each other. In another world, Jungkook said if given the chance, he'd be by your side and make your world a better place. 

Ten years later, it's exactly that and more. 

[miekasa]

MIE ‼️ What sports would the aot boys play? I’m so thirsty thinkin about these fine men in their uniforms and them wiping their sweat off 🥵 I will cheer for all of them with my “my bf is not only #1 in the sheets…” sign

I love thinking about athlete aus… I think I might have done one before, but I have more thots now 😌😌

Eren plays soccer in the fall, hockey in the winter, and baseball or lacrosse in the spring—tri-season athlete no big deal. But really, it actually helps him focus better on his schoolwork; he has to really manage his time between practice and games and assignments, and it teaches him to be responsible and self-sufficient, and he finds out that he much rather likes having something to do than being bored out of his mind.

He always plays forward because he’s quite aggressive, but it’s needed in these kinds of scenarios. He sometimes forgets his jerseys, in which case you’ll get a frantic phone call 2 hours before his game, “Babe, babe, babe, babe!!! I know you have your microbio lecture but I left my gym bag at your place and Levi is gonna fucking murder me—you’re the fucking best you know that, I love you!!!”

Jean plays basketball in the fall, and does swimming/diving in the winter. Depending on the year, he’ll play baseball in the spring too, and he’s got a pretty mean swing. He and Eren are honestly a pretty damn good team when they play together, and Jean is about the only person on the team who can predict and catch Eren’s crazy throws. Also, I will advocate for beefcake Jean with nice arms until I’m dead and gone, and he would look so good in all the swimming attire, even the stupid ass swimming caps and goggles he somehow comes out of the water looking sexy. Delicious, 12/10.

Armin plays soccer in the fall and he didn’t plan on playing any sports at university; too concerned that it wouldn’t allow him enough time to focus on his studies. The only thing he considered was swimming because he’s… a pretty damn good swimmer, but didn’t think it would be worth it.

However, Eren scammed him into coming to soccer try-outs during preseason and Armin made it, and turns out he really enjoys it, too. He would look… very cute in a soccer uniform, that’s all I’ll say. Definitely brings 18293 extra energy bars for Eren because Eren always forgets food (even tho he consumes it all day every day). He never did go through with swimming, which is a shame because he could probably lap half the other teams in his sleep. Oh well.

Connie plays volleyball!! And he looks sexy as hell doing it!!! He tries it out for fun and he fucking loves it, so much that he plays during the fall season for the university, but he also plays club year round. He honestly has the time of his life. Originally, he planned on being a setter—and sometimes he is—but he’s a better wing spiker than anything. Loves fake out attacks and he gets so fucking hype whenever his team makes a good play.

Wanna say I can also see Connie running track, but I just know he’d fall and bust his ass on the hurdles plsssss. Makes the dumbest faces whenever he passes his opponents and fucking winks before he crosses the finish line. 100% has a victory dance.

Levi plays soccer in the fall and hockey in the winter, and if you think he’s not the captain of both teams, then think again. Center forward in soccer, and let me tell you something, his legs in those shorts… yes, the socks and shin guards and literally hiding his lower legs but he still looks so. Biteable. His hockey uniform covers him from head to toe and he still looks sexy. He doesn’t even have to be as aggressive in hockey, because he’s such a skilled skater, he gets by without physical contact. He does casual ice skating sometimes because he’s that smooth on the ice, but it’s nothing serious. No because when he takes his helmet off after a game >>>

Porco plays hockey in the winter and baseball in the spring. If you thought Eren was aggressive on the ice, then you haven’t met Porco. He actually plays the best when he’s a little peeved off, but not so much that it clouds his head; when that happens, it’s him in the box literally every other play, and you should feel sorry for the other team’s forwards because they’re getting body checked as soon as he’s out.

He’s… alarmingly fast off the ice, too, which is why he’s a fucking ace on the baseball field. Not to mention he looks stupid cute in the uniform. Especially the hat. Particularly the hat.

Reiner is built like a fucking brick house, he’s playing hockey and he’s the goalie. Likes to be chill with his teammates and even goof off a bit before the game, but when he’s on the ice it’s game time. He’s so focused. He takes it pretty hard on himself whenever the other team gets a sneaky attack past him, but it fuels him to keep a sharper eye out for next time.

Bertholdt also does swimming/diving, but he does the longer races. His endurance is really good, and his technique is to take it easy in the beginning—even if it looks like the others are lapping him by a lot—and then kick it up when it comes to the end of the race. It’s effective 99.9% of the time. Him in the swimming shorts… very nice image, indeed.

[cielcius]

SPORTS THEY WOULD PLAY | HEADCANONS

includes: bakugou k. (bnha), fushiguro m. (jjk), & itadori y. (jjk)

from the writer: these are all just general american-based sports cuz i legit had to look up a list but i was compelled to make this anyways. also sorry if i get any of the info wrong lol

notes & warnings: modern!au

Bakugou:

Basketball - wears an arm sleeve, doesn’t like how sweaty everybody is and tries not to touch anyone, feels nice when he does slam dunks

American Football - great at throwing and might even earn himself the position of quarterback, loves tackling but hates getting tackled himself (if anyone does it, it’s on-sight)

Soccer (Football) - has strong thighs so his kicks get the ball really far, plays as a striker and hates getting put on defense, slipped on the field once and it’s taboo to even think about it

Ice Hockey - breaks his mouth guard from biting down too hard so he has to change them frequently, strangely has really good balance and speed for someone with a big build on thin blades, will also tackle the other team but only if provoked

Boxing - is really good at fighting in general but hates that his moves are restricted, his body heat is really high so he likes cold showers, will smirk every time he knocks out his opponent in less than five punches

Fushiguro:

Soccer (Football) - plays defense but really wants to try going on offense, comes up with most of the teams plays and has a strong right kick which almost knocked out the goalkeeper during practice once

Swimming - hates how his hair gets in his face even more when it’s wet, is really good at competitive because his lean body gives him more speed, regardless of whether he’s wearing a cap or not, he’ll rinse his hair in the pool before getting out or else it feels weird to be wet and have dry hair

Baseball - plays pitcher and is trying to learn how to throw a curveball, he gets put in the outfield sometimes but he actually finds it kinda boring, gets annoyed that the baseball cap messes his hair up more so he throws his hood on after games to cover it

Lacrosse - can catch the ball with one hand on the stick, gets too tired easily so he does his own conditioning after practice for endurance, didn’t even know scouts came to lacrosse games until one reached out to him

Volleyball - radiates major pretty setter vibes, does hand signals for which plays and person he’s going to set to, his blocks are the highest on his team but he has to bandage his fingers during games

Itadori:

Soccer (Football) - is really good at dribbling but actually plays goalkeeper most of the time (almost got knocked out once from a ball to the head), he’s like the secret weapon who comes in as a striker when the team is in a tough spot

Basketball - he likes the sleeveless jerseys, sometimes slips on court because of the amount of sweat, gets a lot of three pointers but can’t make slam dunks

Baseball - oddly loves the uniform (it makes him feel close to his team and he gets a hat), a batter who gets a lot of home runs but it’s by luck and just barely with the toe of his shoe touching homebase

Snowboarding - he got really nervous his first time and tried to sit and calm down but ended up sliding down the mountain anyways, he can do a lot of tricks and is always practicing but it results in him also getting sick

Volleyball - an outside hitter who can jump really high, has difficulty serving at first but learns how to do a jumpfloat serve, wears the knee pads that covers his thighs

[cosmiclatte28]

Eunoia (Schoolboy! Taeyong  x reader)

A story I worked on Summer and just had the time to finish up! 

warning some cheesy fluff moments... lacrosse training... 

Anyways enjoy this boarding school au! Taeyong x reader .. with bestie!Jaehyun and Doyoung and a sport leader Yuta plus MARK JUNGWOO! 

ENJOY! !!!

Eunoia - beautiful mind 

You run through the big hallway of Neo Culture Institute. You’re late for your Lacrosse training and that’s because your Chemistry teacher held you back after class to get explanation about your burned work.

You know how pissed Nakamoto Yuta will be to find you late again. He’s a strict leader.

Welcome to Neo Culture Institute, a school for the selected ones only. That explains the moderate numbers of pupil in one year. Now this prominent school is turning 80, pupil whose parents were graduates from this school will of course study here : the cycle goes on. The school’s known for a lot of things one of which is the Mix gender Lacrosse team. Yes a mix gender match. The rules are alternated and modified as years passed by. Neo Culture obligates their pupil to live in the school’s dormitory so they will set off as a prepared adult later on. The dormitory is divided to four towers: the North, East, South, and West tower. Each tower holds separated rooms for male and female students from different years. The tower consists of rooms and each year has their own big comfortable common room.

You finally make it to your tower, the North tower. You quickly take the stairs to your bedroom in the second floor and change your school uniform to your training attire. You grab your lacrosse stick, goggles, and mouth gear. You leave the room just to bump over a boy with heavy books falling over to the floor.

“Sorry… I was in a rush and I did not see you,” you bend to take the books and hand it into him then run for your life to the court, until you saw the lucky man you bumped was.

You got tongue tied. The guy clearly doesn’t look slightly happy. You know you screw up twice (coming late to training and this), now he won’t like you at all.

He’s no other than Lee Taeyong, a guy from the same year as yours. He’s also a North Tower pupil. He’s the quiet and smart type of man; however, He has friends here and there because of his kindness and intelligent plus handsome look. You can’t deny the one sided love you’re feeling on him. And now you just made a bad impression on your crush. In that silent moment, he speaks up.

“(Y/n) right? It’s okay… I wasn’t looking on my way too.” He shifts his book from one hand to another and pushes his glasses up.

“I’m at fault for running without looking where I head.” you squeeze your racket, heck it’s okay if Yuta will piss off for you being so late… you get a chance to talk with your crush after two years of seeing him from afar!

“Wait.. you know my name?” the realization hits you late and your cheeks are burning.

You see him struggles with his heavy books again, “Want me to help?” you take half of his books without his approval.

“Ah you don’t have to… I’m heading to the common room.” He starts his walk and you turn your body to follow his steps.

The two of you made it to the common room. You put down all of his books to the small table and silence fell until Taeyong realizes the attire and gears you’re wearing.

“Where are you heading?” he asks when he discovers the lack of formal uniform in your body.

“Lacrosse training,” you shrug your shoulder.

“Right…” he goes red; everyone can clearly guess that by the appearance and stick.

“Why don’t you see me train?” you suddenly blurt out those words. Surprised by your own mouth, you don’t want Taeyong to misunderstand you as being inconsiderate for breaking his busy schedule. He looks like he’s ready to bury his head into those thick books. You can see he’s a little bit annoyed by whatever is running in his head, and you thought breathing some fresh air can help him relax.

“I—” Taeyong was cut off by you “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you studying! Well I’ll go first, I’m late.” You turn around in a dash of an eye and run with all your might to the green fields.

Taeyong stays back in the common room, stunned and petrified by what just happened.

Meanwhile Yuta really looked pissed when you come fifteen minutes late.

“You know we’re having a match this weekend with the West Tower right? Their new goalie- Winwin is —”

You nod your head and snapped “Get the ball ready.” You put on your mouth piece, showing him you’re not in the mood for  a long debate.

You’ve had enough embarrassment from saying the wrong thing to your crush, and now your team captain isn’t much of a help. You are close to hitting him, luckily your best friend, Jaehyun comes to safe the moment.

“Now I’m sure she has her reason for coming late. She’s right, why don’t we start the practice today since our goalie is here already.” Jaehyun pats both shoulder and the team practice begins.

You’re not on your mood to play nor focus on the game. Your mind is still taunting you over Taeyong’s surprised face when you asked him to see you. Hell why would he see you play? You’re nobody to him. He’s clearly busy and yet your mouth blurted a really silly question. You just saw his stressed face and thought maybe a fresh air will do him some good. But apparently Taeyong won’t think like that.

You end the training with three goals, that’s not much as usually you score five or six. Your mood is totally ruined and you decided to end the practice scornfully.

Yuta doesn’t bug on you. He needs to rush to his Literature class; he’s a fourth year student: being late is considered rude and bad. You sit back on the bleachers with Jaehyun who clearly senses something’s not right.

“What is bothering you?” He throws the bait and with much nagging Jaehyun makes you finally spill everything out.

“He’ll see me as a fool now. What should I do?!!” You hit your best friend out of frustration.

Jaehyun laughs and taps your shoulder, “At least you made a new step,” he points to a man sitting alone on the opposite bleachers and when you look into his way, your mouth hangs open seeing Taeyong waves at you.

You eagerly wave your hand and take quick steps to Taeyong.

“I think you’d like to have a shower first from that sweaty jersey.” Jaehyun whispers.

Right, I should at least smell good.

You shower and change in the provided room and Taeyong is waiting for you outside. He left his glasses; which allows you to see his twinkling eyes better.

“You came! I.. I thought you’re busy.” You stutter out of surprise and delight.

He laughs and you swear that’s the sweetest laugh you’ve ever heard.

“I was about to say I’ll come see your practice after I finish my work… but you left me before I got the chance to speak,” Taeyong smiles.

“Right, I thought you look so wrecked and a bit of fresh air might help.” You offer him your genuine smile.

“It’s a nice shoot. You’re our best goalie.” He hides his hands into his pockets and glances over to the big field.

“Well… the West Tower has a new goalie. Heard he’s the best West Tower ever had.” You slump your shoulder suddenly unconfident with your abilities.

Taeyong looks into you, “But you’re our best player. I’m sure you’re a better goalie than him.”

You turn red and realize he just complemented you. It’s only you and Taeyong. A stroll without third party!

After all, lacrosse practice wasn’t that bad. Come to think of it, a night stroll with Taeyong after a lacrosse practice, what else can you wish?!

“With your abilities, any tower won’t stand a chance.” Taeyong walks beside you.

“You’re flattering me too much there,” You chuckle at his words.

“No really, do you think I ever forgot our first lacrosse game? It was a mandatory for all of us to try and find our suitable sport.” Taeyong drives back to memory lane.

Well on our first day of choosing sports, the whole students were tested on different sports. Taeyong happened to be trying the lacrosse with you, everything started well until a quick ball almost knocked Taeyong off to the ground. He never played lacrosse before, while you… you’ve played basic games. Since you were standing close enough to him, you quickly defend him from the ball and you’ve calculated that both of you will fall: he probably from the shock, and you from the jump. You ended up listening to an hour lecture from your coach, but because of that you were scouted as the North Tower’s lacrosse team. Taeyong was really grateful and to thank you, he brought you a box of chocolates and since that day you’ve always love that certain chocolate brand. The choco pie.

“I never forget the person who saved me from falling ungraciously to the ground! Ever since that day I’ve never hold the stick again!” Taeyong dramatically said.

Your brain is malfunctioning. Lee Taeyong, the man you secretly crush, still remembers you. Well he has a lot of friends, he aces all of his tests, teachers all love him, and he has your name kept nicely in the midst of all those important things.

“And thanks to that incident, I found my talent.” You feel butterflies are flying in your stomach.

“Right, you’re really talented!” he praises you once more.

“It’s just lacrosse though,” you said embarrassedly, “I wish I can do everything else perfectly. I failed my chemistry project; Mr. Yukhei really gave me an additional work to recover my burned solution. You can do all of them perfectly.”

“Nah, Mr. Yukhei is totally giving you a hard time. My friend, Mark, sets fire and he’s not given an additional work. Besides, Classes are easy since you just follow the text books.”

“My bad then, I can’t properly follow my books.” you playfully shrug your shoulder.

The dining hall is slowly filled by students chatting and savoring dinner. You reach the table now. You look down at the floor, wondering how to say goodbye and go sit with Jaehyun since Taeyong would likely go sit with his friends, when he speaks again.

“If you want I can help you finish your additional work.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes widening.

“N-No, that’s okay, y-you don’t have to do that, it’s my homework—”

“I don’t mind,” he says, shrugging. “Really, it’ll just be like practice for when it comes up in the exams. Besides, studying with a friend is always less boring, right?”

With a friend. Had he just called you his friend?

“But it’s not fair to you—”

 “Look, I’ll help you with your Chemistry works; you can help me with my literature. I’m also not good in literature.” Taeyong stares into your eyes.

“But I’m also not that good in literature…” your words trail off.

“That’s why we can improve together!” Taeyong happily brings a conclusion.

“Well, I’d never reject a help. So, see you after dinner?”

He nods and the two of you part ways. You sit with Jaehyun and Doyoung. Taeyong has gone to his other friends.

--

The two of you meet each other again in the common room after the dinner. The North common room is always the best. With the nice view of the school’s pool and sea, the students of the North Tower are always boasting about this.

You take your favorite spot in the corner and Taeyong seems to enjoy that same spot too. It’s near the edge and the peacefulness is wonderful there. The moon shines nicely through the big windows and the other students are also busy studying or writing letters.

Taeyong calmly explains you the process you failed to do in Mr. Yukhei’s class and the additional essay was done within a reasonable hours. The two of you have moved on from Chemistry to reading the book from your literature class. Clearly Taeyong is a faster reader than you are. You’re struggling with the confusing words unlike Taeyong who’s quickly absorbed to the conflicts. His nose sticks to the pages and you? You fell asleep ten pages into the story.

Taeyong yawns after finishing the first three chapters, his eyes are tired. He glances to your side wondering why it’s so silent. He shakes his head when he sees your eyes closed.

Gently Taeyong taps on your shoulder and you turn red.

“Think today’s a tough day for you. You’re tired from lacrosse I guess. Why don’t you go to bed? We can work on the literature tomorrow.” Taeyong cleans your papers and his belongings.

Work on literature tomorrow, did you just hear things? Does that means he’s offering you for studying together again tomorrow.

You yawn and stretch from the short sleep. “Right, I better move to my room. Well thanks Taeyong for helping me tonight.”

Taeyong hands you the papers and he stands from his chair. You leave the room.

“Good luck handing them to Mr. Yukhei tomorrow. See you!” Taeyong waves and the two of you part ways.

Well what a nice day and memory! A night stroll with Taeyong, a study date, and a hearty conversation with him.

You’ll see each other again in Chemistry class tomorrow and in the evening. You only share Literature, Music, and Chemistry with Taeyong, other than that it’s totally different from his.

__

 Your legs can’t stay still; if your mother is there she’ll most likely slap them for being so restless. You swear you can basically sew a pair of jeans with the constant leg movement on top of a sewing machine. Well, you’re nervous about meeting Taeyong. Usually you’re calm and reserved because you know even when you share the same class with Taeyong, he would not bother looking for you. Today is different though, you told Jaehyun and Doyoung about finishing your Chemistry essay with Taeyong and the two men seem to tease you more and more. They know about your crush on him, and they have been trying to set the two of you up for a date, but yes Taeyong is always preoccupied with his books. Your mind is drowned with his warm eyes and sweet smile. For a moment, the loud voice of your English teacher is muted and all you can hear and think is Taeyong. You’re sickly in love. This is not good for your sanity.

“Class is over now, please remember to submit your five pages essay tomorrow. You are dismissed.” Mr.Johnny’s clear voice brings you back to reality.

You snapped your neck to Doyoung who sits beside you, “What essay?”

Jaehyun laughs upon my question, Doyoung whilst cleaning his books replies, “The four pages essay about Taeyong my darling. You’re totally absorbed in your day dreaming that you did not hear the whole class scowls over the insane work.”

“Stop joking. I did not hear him, was thinking about lacrosse.” You lied.

“Huh- never knew Taeyong is the definition of lacrosse.” Jaehyun joins his friend mocking you.

“Fine, I can ask the others. You two have fun teasing me!” you pick your books quickly and stand away from your table.

“It’s about Rom-com TV shows. You need to make an argument on why it’s necessary or not. Don’t worry we can do it together tonight.” Jaehyun finally explains the real deal.

“Great, Mr. Johnny is a real pain in the ass. Did you forget we have training again today?” You asked Jaehyun upon hearing his calm demeanor.

“Of course I remember, it’s only an hour of practice before tea time. We can do the work after dinner.” Jaehyun takes over some of your book and helps you move class. Doyoung has bid his farewell on the junction, he’s attending Philosophy class and the two of you are taking Biology.

To tell you about Jaehyun, you two met at the first day of school: in the midst of the chaos of classifying students. You two saw each other when handing over your data and health certificate, then the matron said the two of you belong to the North Tower. Since you came alone to this school and Jaehyun was as confused as you were, the two of you exchanged names and shortly stuck together. You found him nice and easygoing; he too found it comfortable to befriend you. So your first friend in Neo Culture Institute was Jaehyun. It must be luck that both of you shared the same time table: the only class you were separated was only Geography. You both share the same struggle memorizing the big hallways and rooms, getting lost in the middle of moving to another class, and you both made it to the lacrosse team. Being in the same lacrosse team meant that you two even saw each other outside classes. You admit it was nice having one best friend, but you know you can’t only have one friend, that’s when the two of you met Doyoung in English class and received a group project together. Since then the two of you clicked with Doyoung and he jumped into your friendship circle. Three years of sitting with the same people and laughing over the same jokes, you did not realize that actually a lot of people are interested in knowing you.

“(y/n)? day dreaming again? We’ve arrived! Where are you going?” Jaehyun raises his volume, but still keeping it low.

“Ah! Yes, I forgot… I thought it’s the next class.” You are flustered. Well, your eyes are focus on someone entering the class beside yours: Further math. Taeyong is there walking while chatting with his genius friends Mark and Jungwoo.  

Jaehyun follows your gaze, but he fails to see anyone. “You’re seeing things? Come Bio class is here, that’s for further math and we know you’re not going to survive a second there.” Jaehyun reaches for your free hand and pulls you inside. He puts his books down on his table, and passes yours to the table beside his.

“It’s been six month since we use this room, how can you forget?” Jaehyun wonders and finds you still dozing off.

“I swear if this is what happens if you met Taeyong, I will not allow you to meet him again!” Jaehyun scoffs and slumps in his chair. There’s no point in talking to a love-struck statue.

“Jae, cut it off. I was only wondering if I can make it to the further math class.” You nonchalantly voice what’s in your mind.

Jaehyun slumps in his chair and decides to leave you be.

Meanwhile in further Math class.

Taeyong is trying hard to calm his hard beating heart. He saw her earlier, walking to the class next to his. Taeyong just realizes that (y/n) has always been taking that class, but he never saw her before. He felt his heart skipped a beat when he saw her figure walking down the hall. His heart then beats faster when he saw who was beside her; of course it was Jaehyun. The whole school knows that those two are inseparable. Taeyong shakes his head from his dream, and focuses back to the numbers on the board. He repeatedly told himself to get a hold and focus.

 __

You spend your afternoon in the field. While waiting for your team, you and Jaehyun decided to train some passing and scoring. The two of you are having fun with each other and the team begins to complete. Yuta takes the lead as the captain and not long after it you are running around the field, jumping, and catching balls. You perform nicely in today’s practice, well if it’s talent it won’t be that hard to keep a nice performance. The match with West Tower is coming in two days. Today may be your last practice, since it will be beneficial to take a rest one or two days before the match.

Taeyong did not appear on the audience bleachers at all, and you laugh at yourself why would he watch you practicing when he has more things to do and friends to hang out with. You take off your goggles and mouth gear. Your sweaty and messy body screams for shower, and so you shower. You are greeted with a fresh Jaehyun and the two of you walk your way back to the next class. Yes, you have one Music class to attend right before tea time. The two of you reunite with Doyoung and class begun. There is nothing remarkable or special, just that the three of you are the teacher’s favorite singer. Yes Jaehyun and Doyoung are talented and so are you.

You spend your tea time and dinner with them and your lacrosse team. Yuta needs to talk about our practice earlier. The team members are called to gather in a table. You look around the big hall, and found Taeyong sitting with his other friends; he sure has a lot of acquaintances!

“So, where are we going to do the essay?” Doyoung questions when the team finish the evaluation.

“I don’t think I can join you two. I forgot to tell you, I’ve made a schedule to learn with Taeyong at seven tonight.” You bite your lips anxiously.

To your surprise, the two boys have no problem with it, “Good luck then! Let’s see if your essay can get a high score tomorrow. Now go and chase your Prince Charming!” Doyoung squeezes your shoulder and pushes you to leave them.

Jaehyun just smiles and waves his hand, then he puts his hand on Doyoung’s shoulder and they cheerfully left.

You meet Taeyong on the school’s indoor garden. During summer, the sun sets a bit longer and the weather is perfect to study in the School’s garden. There are several chairs and tables, most students also use the soft grass directly. As long as you don’t stain your uniforms, you’re good. You’ve changed into a comfortable sweater and pants, you bring your papers and books. Taeyong is already sitting on one of the chair and waves to call you.

You rush to his side and with a big smile; you take the chair across him.

Studying with Taeyong is always serious and efficient. He doesn’t want to disturb my sleeping schedule because he knows how hard and tiring it is to train for lacrosse.

“Any trouble today?” he chuckles after asking you.

You shake your head, “None. You saw me handing my papers to Mr. Yukhei and he was surprised I can finish it. I need to thank you one again Tae.”

“Great! I need to finish on my Philosophy essay, do you need any explanation tonight?” he asks before starting his own work.

“No. I’ll work on my English essay then, it’s due tomorrow!”

Taeyong guesses a number, “Let me guess, must be 4 or 5 pages right?”

You gasped in surprise, “How did you guess?”

He points at your papers, well he’s an observant. You feel foolish thinking that he researched from his friends about your works.

“Right, better start now.” He waves his pen over you and you quickly nod your head.

You are clearly clueless about your essay, while Taeyong easily finishes his introduction.

He pauses from his work and looks at you, who still have a blank page.

“Having hard time? What’s the topic about?”

You once again feel so bad and useless. Taeyong can finish his work in two hours, but because of you he will need more time. Gosh what a nuisance you are.

You guiltily tell him about the theme and he laughs for the absurd choice; however, the two of you got carried into a deep conversation about Rom-com and soon you are able to fill in your papers.

You draw your last period on your last sentence and cheer happily. You stretch your palm which aches and sure will go numb. Taeyong has finished his philosophy work not long after it. You want to give up on his offer to read the literature book, but Taeyong is already on his sixth chapter, and you are still on page twenty… and reading together means more time to spend with Taeyong right? So you force yourself to read the lines.

The two of you have moved from the chairs, your butt hurts and you choose to sit on the green grass. You are leaning back against the cool pillar wall in the indoor garden, with your knees pulled up. Your fingers fiddle with the edges of your literature book. Taeyong is opposite you mirroring your position exactly, just with a calm expression, unlike you who’s frustrated with each dialogue.

After a good ten pages, you give up. Taeyong is still absorbed in the confusing words exchange. His eyes are focused on his book, seemingly deep in thought. His lower lip shows a small pout which he occasionally keeps moist. He sometimes chews on his lips a bit, probably stressed with the plot. You feel your heart melt at his sight. All you want to do is lean in and kiss him then and there. Feel the warmth and plushy pink lips of his.  

Did he even know how beautiful he was?

You hold yourself back from spilling any unwanted words out. Right at that moment, two loud voice break through the silence.

“There you are Tae! I swear I can’t keep up with Jungwoo any longer-“ Mark bends and puts his hands over his knees while gaping for air-“Jungwoo has not left me since dinner and he’s been questioning me the same silly riddles which I do not found funny.”

Jungwoo comes behind Mark with his dorky smile plastered on his bright face.

“There you are Mark! Told you, you can’t escape me. Ah hey Tae, and...” Jungwoo tries his best to recall your name.

“The lacrosse girl from North tower right?” he snaps his finger in attempt to bring back his memory “(y/n)! Woah you’re now studying with (y/n) Tae!”

Taeyong’s face flushes a little and Mark clearly busted him.

“So now you two are a thing?” Mark wriggles his eyebrows.

“What? What do you mean? We’re only studying and doing works together. Nothing’s wrong with it right?” replies Taeyong, flustered.

“Oh yeah we get it studying” Jungwoo puts his finger to make a flying quotation.

You stay quiet while hiding your smile. You got to admit your heart is also beating fast, and seeing Taeyong’s blushing face makes you want to blush too.

“We’re reading our literature task. You want to join us?” Taeyong returns to his cold attitude again.

“Oh definitely no thank you! I’m busy getting under Mark’s skin, good luck for you two!” Jungwoo pushes Mark and waves his hand, then he drags Mark away from us. His tone clearly mocks Taeyong for being shy in front of his crush, but both of you are too shy to admit your feelings.

“I’m sorry about those two. They were never tired. I sometimes wonder why I’m friends with them.” Taeyong turns his body to face you and the moon perfectly glisten his silhouette and sparkling eyes. You are lost in his presence.

“Well how did the three of you met?” You ask clearly curious how Taeyong managed to befriend  two energy balls.

He smiles and got caught in his memory, “We took the train on our first day, and we shared the same coach. That’s how we became friends, but they were sorted to another tower and we promised to still be friends.”

“Lucky you,” you say sincerely. “Honestly. It’s amazing how you’re friends with the other towers. The only person I’ve ever known is Jaehyun.”

Taeyong shakes his head. “No you’re wrong. You have all of the lacrosse team as friends—”

“Not really,” you cut. “They’re not friends. Jaehyun is my only real deal. He’s the only person I’m comfortable in talking to. But it must be nice to have more than one person like that, right?”

Taeyong has an odd look in his eyes. “You care about him a lot, don’t you?” The question surprises you. “Um…yeah. He’s my best friend. I don’t think I’d survive school without him.”

Taeyong’s impassive countenance is puzzling. “Well, you have me now too.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

 “Well, you can talk to me too now! I’m your friend too right? I mean… it’s okay for me to listen to you if one day you need someone.” Taeyong blurts out his messy words.

You look at him surprised, and he quickly drives your attention else where, “Look, I just want you to feel happier. Now it’s almost night time, I think we have to go back.” He shakenly picks his books and stands up. You copy his action and soon the two of you made it to the North Tower.

You both bid farewell and go to your assigned bedrooms. You can’t stop smiling when your memory repeated his words again and again. Taeyong mentioned you as his friend and he sounded like he wanted you to talk with him.

--

The upcoming week end is sports day and the whole school is rejoicing over the short break. For once they can meet their parents who come to look at the game, and have lunch with them too.

Today is the lacrosse sparring game between Neo Culture Institute and WayV School. The two favorite boarding school in the area.

You are especially nervous today, since your rivals are looking tall and big today. You walk through the changing room and gather with the rest of the team. Your coach is busy planning and explaining the game plan for today. You can’t stand still, your nervousness makes you sway from one foot to another. Jaehyun who stands beside you nudges your shoulder. “Stop swaying. You’re annoying.”

You raise your brow, “Hey I’m nervous okay. Look at them… they’re tall and big! I can’t imagine getting hit by them.” You fold your hands over your chest. Jaehyun glances over his shoulder to look at the other team. He smirks and pats your back, “You’re strong. I know you’ll have no trouble today. Just stay calm okay.”

Actually Jaehyun’s words are making you more nervous, it’s as if the whole school has high hopes on your performance today. Well as a shooter, you’re burdened to bring the trophy home. When you turn your back to look at the spectators, you see Taeyong walking to you. He waves at you and you forgot everything else.

“Hey Good luck okay! The North Tower is all here rooting for you! I’ll see you from the bleachers. Break a leg!” Taeyong fist bumps you and leaves to take a seat near the waiting bench.

Your team gathers their hands and yell your jargon. The referee blows the whistle and both team walk into the field. You shake hands with all of the players and note how strong their grips are. You may look smaller than them, but your desire to win is bigger than anything else.

You stand on your position, looking at Jaehyun – who’s on defense – he sends you a reassuring nod and you grip on your racket harder.

The game starts and after the ball is tossed from one racket to another, the first goal belongs to WayV. You did not get a chance to score, for the ball was always on their side. The audience cheers for your team and Yuta burns the team’s spirit back up. You once again return to the hot field and focus on the quick ball. While running here and there, you finally receive a nice catch from Jaehyun and you see the clean chance to score a goal. One to one marks the end of first segment. Your team mates run all scream in joy when you made the first goal.

Your coach makes a note to you, telling you how the opponents are starting to run out of breath. Lucky you, your breathing is still constant. You nod your head in understanding when the coach tells you to keep shadowing them and try to score whenever you got the chance.

You return to the field one more time with big determination and when the whistle sounds, you’re back running to where the ball is. However in the middle of the heated game, you are trying to receive a passing from Yuta when a big-built player from WayV stumbles on you and knocks you down. You’re tossed over the grass and the game is stopped. You see black for a moment and all you can think is you must not pass out here. Not in the middle of the field. Not in the middle of a game.

You open your eyes and found the referee asking your condition.

“Are you okay?” The referee asks

You nod your head and grimace at the feeling in your right ankle. Jaehyun is already kneeling beside you. “Is it your right ankle? You twisted it?”

“I think so,” you look at your right ankle it is slightly swollen.

You nod, he speaks to the referee, “Her right ankle is weak. Usually she banded it firmly with a piece of wood and she must keep walking.”

The referee looks at you and you nod your head approving Jaehyun’s explanation.

“Okay, we’ll see if you can still proceed with the game. Break.” He helps you move to the waiting bench and your coach quickly tied your ankle for support. You force yourself to walk so it doesn’t feel numb and Jaehyun hands you a lemonade to quench your thirst.

Taeyong calls your name and asks if you’re okay. You just smile at him and send him a thumbs up. His smile really numbs your pain.

The break was over and you choose to continue the game. Your coach knows you well, you’re not the weak type to cry over a twisted ankle and beg for substitution. No, instead you’ll be begging to play. You force your foot to function back and although it starts to swell, you’re back on the game. This time, Jaehyun is always running near you. He blocks you from the big players, he helps take the ball, and he’s tirelessly making sure you’re okay. Your fighting spirit returns and you start to forget the pain in your ankle. You receive a ball from Yuta, pass it to Jaehyun who’s free and you rush to get near the goal. Before you have a nice chance, Jaehyun is blocked by two big players which forces him to pass the ball to anyone near him. That person being you, his toss was super high and you jump with all your might to catch the ball. The opponent team is slower to jump, and the ball is in your racket. Quickly you aim for the goal and shoot. Two-One and the game ends with Neo Culture’s win. The audience cheers on the top of their lungs and your team runs to carry you and toss you in the air. The North Tower is cheering the loudest, as they’re super happy that a student from their tower made the winning goal. You see Taeyong smiling at you, but the concern look in his face is unbeatable. Jaehyun comes to hug you and helps you move out of the field. Taeyong once again feels a burning sensation in his heart.

You’re ecstatic. Damn your ankle will probably go black tomorrow and you won’t be able to walk well, but because of the winning shot you’ll even accept it if you have to bruise both of your ankle.

The team escorted the opponent to the dining hall. The tea time is a great banquet at times like this. Parents are also welcomed to enjoy hot teas and fancy sandwiches. The school’s kitchen prepares a big feast and the hungry lacrosse players find no difficulties in finishing those.

Taeyong comes to congratulate you along with his two best friend Mark and Jungwoo. They praise you for your goal and they tease Taeyong for being super worried earlier. You’re happy to learn that Taeyong is worried sick when you fell, but you keep your emotions inside.

The day ends nicely with three big cheers for you from the North Tower. They’re proud of you.

--

You didn’t knew that a week end like this could ever happen. You’re now in the town with Taeyong, his friends, and Jaehyun. His friends insist on inviting you to join their week end get-away. You see Taeyong enters a book shop with his friends while you are dragged by Jaehyun to a fragrance candy shop. He’s busy walking around the aisle picking candies and sweets while constantly bickering on you to try the testers when you are not a big fan of sweets. Not now when all you want to do is sneak out with Taeyong to you don’t know.. maybe a stationary store or a puppy adopting house.

You turn your head to the entry door when you hear the loud voice of Taeyong’s buddies and the two of you exchange glances. You offer him a smile which he did not return. There, Taeyong sees you and Jaehyun sticking to one another and he couldn’t bring a smile to his sour face. He drives his eyes elsewhere and walks to join his friends. You’re confused, what’s wrong with him? Did you do anything wrong?

“Hey (y/n)! Quick what do you want? I’m going to check out after this.” Jaehyun pulls your sleeve and you turn to him, “I’ll take the Choco-pies. 2 boxes. Thanks for the treat.” Jaehyun shakes his head but proceeds to pay his belongings and yours.

Taeyong sees every interaction between you two and he hates himself for not being able to man up and walk to you. No, he’s too shy for you.

Hours of study date and several more lacrosse matches, Taeyong finally found his courage to be a man and spill his heart out. If he has the balls, he will confess and maybe ask you out.

He's been thinking of this for a long time, every night he imagines the possibilities of what might happen after he tells you his true feelings. Will he be your boy? Or will your friendship and his end here?

With the help and support of Mark and Jungwoo, who have been convincing Taeyong that you are also interested in him, Taeyong has finally recite his final practice on the mirror tonight.

Tomorrow's a big day, the school game! Taeyong has prepared your favorite chocolate brand and a hand-written letter. He made a back up plan, yeah he will give the letter if things go wrong.

Taeyong spent some good five nights to write a poetic letter for you, or at least he tried to sound romantic but not cheesy!

He will either talk to you directly or just leave you the message, because he never knows when his tongue will freeze.

The big game day happens from the morning to noon. You've taken breakfast earlier than the other students and were drilled for a light game before the actual one. You're a bit nervous today since the visitor is the strongest challenger from nearby.

One small warm up game won't hurt right?

“Ouch! Fuck jae!” you yell as you throw your racket to the ground and bring your hands to cover your nose.

“Woah i'm sorry really!” Jaehyun tosses his racket to the ground and runs to check on your accident.

Well earlier you and Jaehyun had a little argument because he's been pulling on your nerves for the last weeks. Teasing you that you still don't have anyone to come with you to the prom. You're mad you cannot fight him back because he did find himself a partner already and you're still preoccupied by the tons of homework.

“Hey let me see,” Jaehyun crouches and reaches out a hand to check your nose, but you quickly brush him off.

“Go away! You really pissed me off" you push your body away from him. Maybe it's the hormone and the nerves from the tight schedule and the upcoming match, you never intended to be this rude to your best friend.

Jaehyun stands back with a confused look, he looks a bit hurt, but majority of his face shows concern. He knows the team will most likely blame him for tossing the ball too hard when he clearly sees you’re quite close enough to receive a light throw. But he wants to tease you a bit from the tension and did that strong hit… only to mess up and hit your nose to bleed.

The coach calls and end to the game and you're ushered to the clinic.

“Welcome, what can I help you with?” a soft voice you've heard a lot now, greets you.

You look up from the messy strands of hairs on your face and close your eyes when you recognize who is standing before you.

Out of all student working here, why must it be Taeyong and why must you look this messy and horrible.

You hold your blood red uniform to your nose, you don't realize your skin has been exposed since you drag the top to suck the blood.

“Woah you're so bloody.. seat down" Taeyong hurries over to take the first aid kit and you sit yourself  down on one of the beds.

“Now lean forward slightly and keep breathing from the mouth" Taeyong explains as he rushes back now in front of you.

“Excuse me,” he pinches your nose and after a while he presses an ice pack to stop your clotting.

Taeyong is completely focused to stop your bleeding for ten minutes. Your eyes travel to record every details of Taeyong's beautiful face. He's so close to you, you can feel his light breathes touching your sweaty face and you try your best not to mess your breathing and choke ugli-ly infront of him. Eugh.

“Hey we're almost there.. hold the cold for a moment okay,” he flashes an apologetic smile. You blink and he sorts of get it, you actually forget the freezing sensation… the man you like is standing just inches away from you?! How can you not blush and feel burnt?!

You thank the ice and the alibi of running in the field.. so that way he won't ask why your face is so red now.

Taeyong stops pinching your nose and takes away the cold ice bag too. He then proceeds to clean the bloody mess you have and carefully he asks all the procedural questions he has to.

“So who did this to you?” Taeyong finally let out the most bothering question he has.

You roll your eyes, “Dumb Jaehyun"

Tae’s surprised by your answer, well he thought the two of you cannot have fights but did Jae punched you?

“Lacrosse match is starting soon and he decided to throw me a strong swing when i'm near him… of course the ball will hit me. And voila i'm here.” You look into his worried eyes and suddenly rage is gone from your mind.

“But I gotta thank Jaehyun though,” Taeyong whispers as he cleans up the tissues and ice packs.

“Huh?”

“Uhm don't bend first (y/n) or look down.. that will cause another nose bleed.. just stay calm for a while okay.”

“Well I mean.. because of your accident… we got to meet here…” Taeyong sheepishly smiles, he really has a hard time controlling his emotion.

“Oh well i'm not that happy since you got to see my super ugly side. I mean you see me covered in bloods.. it's horrifying right?” you throw your glance to the floor and swing your legs.

“What's the problem with that? You don't look horrifying… you're still pretty in fact.” Taeyong stands on his track, frozen when he realizes what he just said.

You turn your head to face him, and he looks so flustered, “shit I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Ugh i'm sorry..”

You laugh and tap the empty spot next to you “Come here for a sec?”

Taeyong tosses the medical tray to the sink and he strides to your side.

“Can you say that one more time?” you smirk at him

He looks so flustered, “Uhm which one?”

“That one .. oh you know.” You wink at him.

He inhales a deep breathe, well guess this is it.. the right moment.

Taeyong lets go off a long breathe and he finally holds one of your hands.

“You look pretty. Despite the bloods and the sweats. You really captivate me and you mess me up!” Taeyong stares into your eyes as he spills out his hidden emotions.

“You’ve been running around in my head all the time and guess that's how you can endure the long training from lacrosse! You don't get tired running every day in my head here!” Taeyong rolls his eyes at his own lame joke. Your laugh at least make him more comfortable.

“Nice pun and pick up line there mr sexy brain!” You poke his stomach and he flinches.

“Hey! Glad you like it… I thought it'll sound lame..”

“Well I like you too Tae,” you blurt it out.

His eyes widen in surprise, “Wait I haven't said my words yet! You stole my line.”

You jump from the bed and giggle “Well but I knew you were going to eventually say You like me.. if i'm wrong then I have to leave this school and change face!”

“No.. well you're not wrong.” He also jumps down from the bed

You take some steps backward to the door, “Great! Now I have to cut this sweet moment because… five minutes after this it's the game time!”

Taeyong copies your strides and he is already in front of you, holding you back from leaving the room.

“I like you, meet me after the game… balcony usual place.” He gives you his sweet smile.

“Okay.. guess i'll have to go" you awkwardly wait for something.

Taeyong looks puzzled, you're waiting for something and the door is not closed.

“Oh! GOOD LUCK!” He suddenly realizes that maybe you're waiting for that.

You launch yourself to his embrace. Thankfully, he catches you and prevents you from falling down.

“Need my good luck hug.. jae's probably not giving me any…” you squeeze him tight and leave after realizing you're late

“Go! I’ll see you from the bleachers! Just like that time" he waves and pushes you lightly through the open door.

You smile and rush back to the field. You'll be playing after the break.

“Break a leg team!” you scream to your team mates and they're relieved you're treated and back at the field.

“Change your clothes, and warm yourself up. Guess a nosebleed won’t stop you from playing right?” your coach toss you a new jersey and you excitedly change.

When you return from the changing room, you catch Taeyong on one of the bleachers smiling into you and giving you two thumbs up.

Your fighting spirit returns and you know today's game will be interesting.

--

“Hey hey look who's over the moon!” a silhouette appears from the corner of the balcony and you look over your shoulder to smile at the man taking calm steps to sit beside you.

“Congrats on winning!” Taeyong uses his peripheral view to check you.

“Thanks… I also need to thank your help with my nose.” You shrug your shoulder, “If someone else was there and messed up.. I won't be in the field.”

“So.. is this where I am supposed to tell you what was interrupted this morning?” his legs shake and your heart beat increases.

“Okay I’m doing it now!” he inhales and finally speaks his heart aloud

“I’ve really liked you a lot since the first time we met. I know it took me a long time to convince my heart and say yes this is the girl I want to be with… I'm sorry if I never tell you  this before because I cannot imagine what will happen if my feeling is not mutual ! I did not want to lose a friend like you and silly me used to thought you like Jaehyun and that I don't stand a chance." Taeyong's voice was shaky at first but he managed to sound bold and free on his last words.

You grin when you heard his confession, well you've drop dead gave him a lot of hints that you like him yet he was so pliant and vague about giving signs if he likes you back.

But tonight everything will change!

“So since you’ve blurt it out earlier. I'm gonna make it clear. I like you and I think we can be more than friends!” Taeyong smiles and bites his lower lips just like he usually does when he's nervous.

You nod and hide a strand of hair away from your face, suddenly being so woman-like.

“I like you too Tae,” you chuckle and let go a breathe you did not realize you've been holding.

“So… are you still free to the prom?” Taeyong slips his hand into his pocket and crumple up the letter he has there.

Your eyes twinkle, knowing where this might be going.

You quickly nod your head, “I got too carried away with tests and training… haven't gotten any partner yet. What about you?”

A big grin grows on his face as he reaches out for your hands “Great because this man over here is also looking for a partner. So, will you go to the prom with me?” he lightly squeezes your hands and you feel an electric shock rushing in your body.

“Well what color are you wearing? It better be something that matches with lavender blue, because your girl is going in that color.” You boldly wink at him and he laughs at your action.

Taeyong pulls you closer and hugs you tight “You know what? I have the exact matching attire to stand next to you. See you on the prom?”

You push your body away from him and hold his face in your hands “See you on the prom and breakfast tomorrow!” you press a quick kiss on his cheek and run away. Waving good bye as the night bell rings.

Taeyong stands under the moonlight, blushed with one hand hovering over his red cheek. Did you just kissed him?

Well believe it or not Taeyong craves for more of that plush soft lips!

Sometimes it takes courage to know the truth, but it is always better to take the risk and regret nothing.

The end

[clarketomylexa]

halley’s comet and other extenuating circumstances ch. 3

“It’s snowing?” 

Lexa nods. 

As if she needs to know for sure, Clarke pushes herself up on an elbow, unwashed hair slipping from behind her ear as she pulls back a wispy curtain to expose a backyard full of snow. 

read on ao3

She gets the text at six a.m. 

Her phone buzzes by her head and she reaches back, frowning unhappily as she uncurls herself from the warmth of flannel sheets and her long-sleeved pyjama top to answer it, cold worming its way under the dips and creases of the fabric. 

It takes a moment to find, and another to figure out why it’s tucked upside down into the storage trolley Clarke keeps on the wrong side of her bed for her acrylics, clock and a little vase of fake, dollar store flowers instead of her own nightstand but when she remembers why she smiles. 

Winter is awesome. 

It’s even better than Fall if Lexa had to rank the seasons — and not just because football season is over. While September gave her her girlfriend and Clarke on the sidelines in her uniform, Winter so far has had Jake working long hours and Abby pulling second third at the hospital and a mutual agreement between both of their parents that being home alone together is better than Clarke being home alone by herself. 

It’s meant cash pinned to the fridge, along with a note in Jake’s handwriting to order something other than sticky rice and egg rolls from Haun Garden for dinner and sitting in Lexa’s bedroom beneath glow in the dark stars, all faded and plastic and peeling from the ceiling, swapping answers for AP calculus over cold Pop-Tarts and Coca Cola cans. 

(Even better, it’s meant Clarke in Lexa’s Pikachu pyjama pants and pictures for prosperity — one half of a cheap, silver heart necklace from a kiosk at the mall draped around her neck over her t-shirt). 

And yeah, maybe Lexa’s Spanish conjugations have veered toward sloppy ever since Clarke started whispering quiet querida’s and mi corazón’s to Lexa under her breath during class — she thinks she might have single-handedly kick-started Señor Moreno’s nervous breakdown the first time she answered a question with sorry, I don’t know — but the kisses traded later, in the alcove outside the arts classroom in B block more than make up for it. 

“Clarke,” she whispers, digging her way through the intricate layers of comforters and quilts on the bed until she finds the lump. 

It’s a blond lump, tucked cozily into a grey-green Polis High School Cheerleading sweatshirt, pyjama pants and the Christmas socks Lexa slipped into her stocking the day before Christmas Eve, and it squirms unhappily when it’s poked, glaring at Lexa past the edge of her pillowcase with slitted, sleepy eyes. 

“What?” 

Lexa hands over her phone in reply and Clarke takes it with cold fingers, blinking at the screen as she reads the text from Lexa’s Mom. 

Roads are closed. Daddy called the school board and you don’t have school today. Be home for dinner, please. Love you.

“It’s snowing?” 

Lexa nods. 

As if she needs to know for sure, Clarke pushes herself up on an elbow, unwashed hair slipping from behind her ear as she pulls back a wispy curtain to expose a backyard full of snow. It’s harsh and white in the light from the porch. A thick layer of it sits on the patio furniture and the grass is buried from fence to fence, boxed in on either side by big, sloping mountains, the ice yellow and green and starburst red in the reflection of the Christmas lights still hung up on the trellis. 

It’s January now, Christmas is over, but the Griffin’s have a habit of leaving their decorations up well past Epiphany much to the annoyance of Mrs Gardiner across the cul-de-sac who has her lights up and down on a practically military timetable. Jake has been promising to do it for the past two weeks, ever since he went back to work after the holidays but he says it with enough of a twinkle in his eye that Lexa knows they’ll still be up come Valentine’s Day and beyond. 

(Lexa is OK with that; when she thinks about sitting cross-legged with Clarke on the porch on February Fourteenth, watching the lights catch in the spun-silk of her hair, she wonders if spite is enough for Jake to leave them up all year round). 

“Shit!” Lexa hisses when cold air unexpectedly invades the pocket of heat she’d eked out against Clarke’s mattress. She traps her arms against her chest, pulling the cuff of her sleeve down with her thumb as she watches her girlfriend move around the room in a single chin of light from the open curtain. 

A pair of UGG boots are flung out of the bottom of the closet and she frowns. “What are you doing?” 

“Going outside,” Clarke tells her from the foot of her bed where she pulls the sheepskin boots over her socked feet. 

She looks so pretty in the six a.m. light — so loved and worn in wearing Lexa’s pyjamas and her cheerleading sweatshirt — that Lexa can’t even summon the strength to tell her no when her own sneakers are fished from the depths of the overnight bag she stowed under Clarke’s desk the afternoon before. 

Instead, she takes them dumbly, looping the laces around cold fingers and wondering if there’s anything in the world she wouldn’t do for Clarke Griffin. 

//

It appears not, she thinks as she follows Clarke downstairs half an hour later, clinging to her sweater sleeve in the pitch dark of the stairwell. 

During the day the alcove is lit up — the walls practically a shrine to a gap-toothed Clarke in her powder blue little league jersey grinning proudly from the front of every frame — but now, Lexa struggles to see as she follows her girlfriend through the dark. 

Clarke disables the alarm with Lexa’s fingers firmly ensconced in hers, unlatching the patio door, grinning madly as she pulls Lexa with her out into the biting cold, so perfect and complete, it steals the breath straight from Lexa’s lungs. 

Cold air worms its way under her t-shirt, raising goosebumps up her arms and she pokes her thumbs into her cuffs to combat it, her shoulders hunched against the chill. She watches Clarke next to her as she shuffles her soggy UGG boots to the edge of the deck and reaches an upturned palm out as far as it will go, watching the flakes settle into the crevices of her skin. 

“It hasn’t snowed like this since February,” Lexa says, crossing her arms over her chest to preserve the warmth. The snowflakes in front of them are coming down in thick, wide clusters, unlike the sleet that came before Christmas and turned the football field to slush. They cling like velcro to Clarke’s hair and clothes. 

“Since Atom fell in the parking lot and ate ice trying to invite Octavia to the Sadie Hawkins dance,” Clarke remembers, laughing. 

Lexa frowns. “Aren’t the girls supposed to ask the guys to those?” She remembers that particular dance in vivid, excruciating detail. How Clarke asked Finn Collins to go with her and how she — forced to go by Anya, the only Junior on the decorating committee — stood in the corner by the restroom all night, watching the little throng of Freshmen slow dance a few feet away, pulling uncomfortably at the stretchy hem of her Forever 21 dress. 

It had pretty much been the worst night ever. The crepe paper constellations tacked to the ceiling hadn’t even been astrologically correct. 

“They’re supposed to,” Clarke shrugs, blinking up at the sky. Wet snowflakes string themselves like beads through her hair and Lexa itches to reach out and touch them. “No one does though. They just wait for the guys to buy their tickets and like about how they asked them.” 

That seems stupid to Lexa — like a whole lot of mental gymnastics just to make sure people think you don’t care. Then again who is she to judge? 

“I’d ask you,” she whispers, digging her chin into her shoulder as she looks over at Clarke. 

“I’d ask you too,” Clarke grins. 

(It sounds a little like something else). 

//

When she wakes up again three hours later, it’s light. 

There’s a space heater pointing at them from the open doorway — she can see the extension cord snaking away down the corridor — and Clarke is flush-cheeked next to her when she looks over, propped up on her elbows as she scrolls through her phone. 

“Hi,” she looks down at her, smiling in the same way as she has done every morning since they started sleeping in each other’s beds. 

Her hair is still a little damp around the crown — a shade darker than the rest of her head like damp, wet sand — and Lexa reaches up to tuck a kinky, blond lock away from her eyes, feeling Clarke preen under her touch. “What’s the time?” 

“Nine,” Clarke replies. “You’re phone’s been buzzing.”  

“It’s just Anya,” Lexa guesses, reaching over to unplug her phone from her charger. Sure enough, it is, Half a dozen Snapchat’s she forgot to reply to tonight — mostly because they were all teasing her about how whipped she is for spending her lunch hour yesterday huddled on the bleachers watching her girlfriend run make-up lacrosse drills — plus a new phone sits on her lock screen. She thumbs the notifications away and presses her camera against the comforter to send a reply. “She’s picking me up at four.” 

“Awesome,” Clarke throws her phone down on the mattress. She tosses her hair out of her face as she slides a bare leg over Lexa’s hip and Lexa has to remind herself to breathe. 

She thinks remembers Clarke tossing her pyjama pants away in the hours after they went back to bed. It hadn’t seemed like such a big deal then, but now she can feel Clarke’s knee pressed against the bare skin of her waist, everything inside of her feels like it’s on fire. 

Honestly, she’d been pretty upset to note that the whole constantly horny side effect of being a sixteen-year-old girl hadn’t gone away when she got a girlfriend to relieve the tension with. If anything, it’s only gotten worse. Like, a lot worse. She wonders if her and Anya’s newfound closeness extends to talking about…this.  

“What do you want to do?” 

//

What Clarke wants are pancakes. 

Lexa sits on the granite countertop with a plastic bottle of her batter in her hands while she bangs pots and pans around in the butler’s pantry and wonders if this is what all the songs mean when they talk about love.  

It’s puke worthy to even think about, let alone say out loud; so unbearably cliche for someone so reliant on logic and reason but it feels good not to be striving for something anymore. It’s all still there in the background — track meets, debate, a million AP classes she isn’t even sure she enjoys — but they don’t feel as imperative as they did before. She doesn’t feel like she will fade into oblivion if, one day, she doesn’t want to be valedictorian anymore. 

Besides, Clarke makes it feel like it’s OK to think in cliches. Mostly, it’s just the ‘l’ word that’s been knocking around her head recently that has her nervous; she’s no expert, but she’s pretty sure they’re too young and it’s too soon to be feeling something so big and important.

She plants the bottle of pancake batter on the counter when she realises she’s about to peel the label off, picking sticky residue off of her restless fingers. 

“Did you know the average snowflake falls at a rate of three point one miles per hour?” 

It isn’t snowing anymore. The sky is bright blue and cloudless but every now and again, flat, white chunks will fall from the slope of the Griffin’s roof, leaving powdery piles on the ground beneath the kitchen window. 

“Only you would turn a snow day into a physics lecture,” Clarke complains, grinning at her as she emerges from the pantry with the skillet. She plants it on the cooktop and turns on the gas, pouring a dollop of batter into the pan. 

“Why should you miss out on learning just because of some anomalous weather?” Lexa teases innocently. 

“Oh,” Clarke trills, “someone’s been doing their SAT prep.” She leans across the counter until Lexa can feel her breath against her ear and whispers in a half-cocked porn-star moan: “I love it when you use big words.” 

“Ostentatious,” Lexa murmurs back, taking the bait. “Evanescent. Spurious. Anachronistic.” 

Clarke giggles sweetly, her cheeks pink and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. “Keep going,” she requests and Lexa tries desperately to remember the words written on the neon green queue cards tacked to the wall above her bed. 

(In other news, she’s pretty sure she’s found a new revision tactic and files that away for later). 

“Empirical. Ignominious. Unilateral…Clarke!”  

“I didn’t see that one on the list but I’ll go with it.” 

“No!” Lexa squeals, pointing at the stovetop in alarm. “Clarke!” 

“Shit!” Clarke blanches at the smoking pan, lunging for the handle. 

“Don’t touch it!” 

“Fuck!” 

Taking the kitchen towel from the rail on the oven, Lexa winds it carefully around the handle of the smouldering pan, carrying it carefully to the island where she dumps it in the sink. It sizzles angrily against the water leftover in the breakfast dishes beneath it, billowing smoke in thick, blake waves and Clarke stares at her charred pancake despondently. 

“So…Gus’s?”  

//

They go to the diner, wrapping up in UGG boots and hoodies, tucking their wallets into their pockets and their ears under their beanies as they trudge through the snow. The smell of smoke is still trapped between in Clarke’s hair and every time she bumps up against Lexa as they walk — cinched far too close together on the otherwise empty sidewalk — she bursts into fits full of giggles, shoulders bouncing under her hoodie. 

It had taken three minutes for Abby to call once the smoke alarm went off — screaming loud enough for Lexa to flea to the porch while Clarke stood on the kitchen stool to fan the smoke away from the sensor — and fifteen more for Clarke to convince her the house was still standing. 

(“Mom, would I be talking to you from the landline if it wasn’t?”)

She made Clarke promise to stick to takeout and grilled cheese made in the sandwich press and maybe sign up for Home Ecc next semester but eventually, she hung up, telling Clarke she’d see her tonight and Clarke had scraped the remnants of the pancake into the trash before turning to Lexa with a look like a scolded child. 

“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you today,” Gus grunts when they enter the diner, looking up from where he stands behind the counter with a mug of thick, black coffee. 

For all the time she’s spent with him, Lexa can’t tell if it means he’s happy to see them or not. What she thinks is exasperation one day could just as easily turn out to be fondness. 

He refuses to let Lexa take on a shift when she offers now that she doesn’t have school, sitting them in their booth by the window with two sticky menus and two mugs of coffee instead and mumbling something about teenagers being half-naked in the snow when Clarke stretches enough that her bare stomach shows under the hem of her cropped hoodie. 

Clarke waits until he retreats to the kitchen with two orders of pancakes scribbled down needlessly on his notepad before she leans over the table conspiratorially, smoke still lingering on the collar of her hoodie. 

“I think he’s starting to like me.” 

//

Gus cuts them off after their third cup of coffee. 

Lexa pushes her mug towards him when he does the rounds with the coffee pot, offering it to the three other customers who have braved the roads that the ploughs are still in the process of clearing but he shakes his head when he stops in front of them, clearing their breakfast plates instead. Lexa’s jaw drops, indignant. 

“You’re sixteen. What do you need caffeine for?” 

“I take four AP classes,” Lexa fires bag, offering her mug again. 

Gus slides it back towards her. “Go outside, Lexa.” 

Rolling her eyes, Lexa puts two twenties on the table that she knows Gus is going to put towards her paycheque next month and the two of them slide out of the booth. 

Clarke doesn’t want to go home yet. They left the windows downstairs open on their safety catches as Abby told them to but the kitchen still smells like smoke so she pulls Lexa towards the park instead, using her sleeve to wipe the powdered snow from the swing and lowering herself to the rubber seat. Lexa takes the tone next to her, digging the toes of her soggy boots into the ground to stop herself from moving. 

Despite the temperature and her breath fanning out in front of her like locomotive steam, Lexa doesn’t feel cold. There’s syrup instead of gloss on her lips and she’s starting to lose feeling in her toes — she wiggles them in the tips of her boots to no avail — but when Clarke leans over, cinching their swings together by the cold, metal chains, Lexa doesn’t think she’s ever felt warmer in her life.

She presses her forehead against Clarkes, the rim of her beanie trapped between them, and feels Clarke’s breath bloom hotly against her collarbone. It feels intimate; far too intimate for the swings in the middle of the morning. It seems like something that should happen as they lie in Clarke’s bed at night, Clarke’s five-fingered grip pressed firmly against the flat expanse of her stomach and backs turned against the open bedroom door — Abby’s rule, not theirs. She shivers. 

“Are you cold?” 

When she doesn’t reply, Clarke’s snakes an arm around her torso, frigid fingers slipping between her hoodie and the waistband of her sweatpants and Lexa shrieks, bucking wildly against the cold. Her swing lurches sideways, the chain slipping out of Clarke’s palm, and Lexa careens backward, landing with her top rucked up in a pile of wet snow. 

For a moment, all she can feel is cold. The cold, harsh kind that slings itself through her veins as the snow soaks the ribbed hem of her hoodie and up into the fabric back of her bra. Then, Clarke’s face is blinking at her owlishly from above, two amused and one part guilty — it only takes her a second to laugh. 

“Now I am.” 

Apologetic, Clarke’s fingers slip in a circle around her wrist, muscles straining against Lexa’s weight but Lexa leans back with two hands and pulls Clarke down to the snow with her instead. She lets out a scream, kneeing Lexa inelegantly in the crotch when she hits the ground but Lexa thinks she probably deserved it. 

“So am I,” Clarke looks at her, chest pressed close enough that Lexa can feel the little vibrations from her giggles through the thick fabric of their hoodies. 

Clarke rolls off of her when the mother of a two-year-old in a pom-pom hat on the other side of the playground gives them a tight-lipped look — at the ruckus or at the sight of them cinched on top of each other, Lexa doesn’t know. Curling on her side against the gritty, snowy ground, Clarke shoots her long, farcical faces while Lexa tries to stifle the laughter that rises within her, rolling like waves of champagne bubbles. 

It shouldn’t even be funny — it isn’t funny — but every second she spends with Clarke feels like a reason to laugh and it makes her happy in the most perfect way. 

When she gets herself under control a minute later, fits of giggles tapering off into snatched, little hitches of breath, Clarke is watching her, lips trapped between her teeth, and Lexa knows she feels the same. 

//

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?” 

They’re clean and dry now, curled together like two halves of a closed shell against the rumpled sheets of Clarke’s bed. 

She had dragged Lexa upstairs once they got home — shivering and cold in their wet, snowy clothes — and while everything inside of her had rebelled when Clarke reached for her pyjama pants and fleece to climb back under the covers, the temperature was low enough — that deep, stinging cold that slings itself through hardwood and window panes — that, even if they hadn’t left the windows open for most of the morning, the central heating and space heater combo probably couldn’t have done much to combat it. 

Instead, it was the way that Clarke had pulled her down to the mattress with a wicked smile when Lexa was only halfway through putting her pants on that had given flushed cheeks and that sweet, syrupy warmth back to her body. Her heart is still recovering. 

“Here.” 

(She means it too — whole-heartedly and with every fibre of her being. She’d give up a ticket to the moon if it meant she could relive this moment ad infinitum). 

Clarke gives her a funny, little look. 

“You’re a sap, you know that?” 

[laresearchette]

Friday, January 12, 2024 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: DESTROY ALL NEIGHBORS (Shudder)

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT? THE TRAITORS (TBD - CTV Life) SELF-RELIANCE (TBD)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA ROLE PLAY SCARRED

CBC GEM SUMMER LOVE

CRAVE TV BOOKSMART COBWEB DOUBLE HAPPINESS EARTH EMPIRE OF DIRT FIRE THE KARATE KID (1984) THE KARATE KID (2010) THE KARATE KID II THE KARATE KID III TOTAL RECALL (2012) VIGIL (Season 2, Episode 1) WATER HORSE

DISNEY + STAR BLUEY (Season 3 - New Epsiodes)

NETFLIX CANADA LIFT LOVE IS BLIND: SWEDEN

NLL LACROSSE (TSN/TSN5) 6:30pm: Rock vs. Thunderbirds

TORONTO MARLIES HOCKEY (TSN2) 7:00pm: Belleville vs. Toronto

NHL HOCKEY (SN) 8:00pm: Flyers vs. Wild (TSN3) 10:00pm: Jets vs. Ducks

NBA BASKETBALL (SN Now) 8:00pm: Warriors vs. Bulls (TSN3/TSN4) 7:30pm: Kings vs. 76ers (SN1) 9:30pm: Raptors vs. Jazz (TSN3/TSN4) 10:00pm: Pelicans vs. Nuggets

AMPLIFY (APTN) 7:30pm: Celebrated Mohawk rock star Tom Wilson crafts a powerful song based on a famous painting by Métis artist Christi Belcourt. In conversation at a diner, the two remarkable artists explore their creative processes and sources of inspiration.

MARKETPLACE (CBC) 8:00pm: Examing popular surfaces at the gym to reveal how germy they can be; examining if protein powders are really necessary after workouts.

7TH GEN (APTN) 8:00pm: Jordan and Brandon Nolan, born and raised in Garden River First Nation, are part of an NHL legacy. Discover how these brothers are sharing their love of hockey with Indigenous youth across the country.

MILLION DOLLAR ISLAND (Discovery Canada) 8:00pm: Ninety-four contestants remain, and a new player wins the power to decide who will risk everything in the arena.

THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF JERSEY (Slice) 8:00pm: Life’s a Drag

BOLLYWED (documentary) 8:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): With the second location not yet open, Kuki comes up with an eye-catching solution to Chandan's overstock problems.

GARAGE SALE MYSTERIES: THE PANDORA'S BOX MURDERS (Super Channel Heart & Home) 8:00pm: When garage sale guru and amateur sleuth Jennifer Shannon agrees to appear on a reality TV series, she uncovers a puzzle box which may contain the key clue in a murder case.

ABOUT THAT (CBC) 8:30pm

TRANSPLANT (CTV) 9:00pm: Bash treats a man injured in a car accident who was saved by the woman who hit him; Devi decides to fight to hold on to the department; in a moment where it is most needed, a former member of the York Memorial team returns.

UNWANTED (Showcase) 9:00pm/9:15pm (SERIES PREMIERE): On the first night of the cruise ship Orizzonte's voyage through the Mediterranean, the crew rescues a group of migrants from a fishing boat that is on fire and in danger of sinking. In Episode Two, as Arrigo battles with a difficult moral choice after being ordered to disembark the migrants, a meeting gets organized between the rescued survivors and the cruise ship's passengers.

THE KING’S DAUGHTER (Crave) 9:00pm: Hoping to achieve immortality, King Louis XIV (Pierce Brosnan) captures a mermaid and steals her life force, but a discovery by his illegitimate daughter threatens to ruin the king's plans.

THE SUMMIT AUSTRALIA (Discovery Canada) 9:30pm: The 14 hikers continue an adventure to reach the summit in 14 days, but they are realizing not all of them will make it; one hiker has fallen, and their $1 million is removed from the prize pool.

LITTLE BIRD (CTV) 10:00pm: Esther finds her adoption papers and a newspaper clipping that evoke fuzzy memories of her life before her adoption; determined to learn more, she uproots her life and sacrifices everything in search of her family and identity.

CRIME BEAT (Global) 10:00pm: When a 20-year-old English tourist suddenly stops contacting his family while backpacking across Canada, his mother tries to raise the alarm; police are slow to respond until an anonymous note prompts them to search a nearby lake.

AND JUST LIKE THAT… (E! Canada) 10:00pm (SEASON 2 PREMIERE): While Carrie questions whether she's ready for more than a casual fling, Miranda starts to worry her relationship with Che is only about sex.

[maamsshopbaby]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Jersey reversible Nike basketball tank top Youth M green white: Box E:.

[written-prose-things]

What did you just call me?

Summary:  When an unknown hunter walks into Beacon Hills, Derek goes into Over Protective Alpha mode. Everyone gets puts into groups, which they're supposed to stick with at all times.

Stiles gets stuck with Derek. Ya know, The Alpha He Has A Crush On. Over the next three days, they both realise exactly how much fun their normal life can be as well.

{This is the second chapter!}

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Ao3 |

The next morning Stiles wakes up to see Derek lying on the floor, awake. He pokes the alpha’s thigh with his toe, “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, you know that right?”

Derek grumbles, “No space on the bed.”

Stiles laughs as he gets out of bed, “Wow, I’ve never been called fat like this before.”

Derek grumbles, “Not fat, just soft, I-” Derek stops abruptly.

Stiles turns around slowly. Derek’s looking away from him, his ears are tinged red. Stiles smirks, “Who knew, I just need to wake you up early to get a nice compliment.”

-x-

After cleaning himself up, Stiles drives them to Derek’s loft. Derek lets Stiles into the loft and walks towards the stairs to change his clothes.

Stiles asks slowly, “...Umm, so should I go?”

Derek turns around, “You haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“So?”

Derek furrows his eyebrows, like Stiles is an idiot, “Breakfast is necessary, Stiles.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “ Thanks, mom .”

Derek huffs, “Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment to make breakfast.”

Stiles walks over to the window, staring at the street below him to pass the time.

Derek comes down quite quickly. Derek’s skin looks soft and warm after a shower. Stiles assumes the alpha likes scalding hot water because his face is a soft red colour. Stiles can’t help the smile on his face when he sees Derek’s outfit. Another pair of henleys and jeans.

Derek quirks one eyebrow at Stiles in confusion. Even his eyebrows are fluffy after a shower, hair pointing in different directions. His eyebrows look softer than the hair on his head. They must feel different too, Stiles assumes. Stiles’ mind spirals as he wonders, what must Derek’s eyelashes feel like. His eyelashes fall on the soft apples of his cheeks, still red from his shower. The alpha’s face is also a thing of beauty, a mix of soft curves and hard planes.

Stiles shakes his head and clears his throat, “Waffles! You can make waffles.”

Derek comments fondly as he walks to the kitchen, “Weirdo.”

When their breakfast is done, Derek insists on cleaning both their plates.

“Why can’t I wash my plate?”

Derek huffs, his face contorted in discomfort, “Because I’m saying so.”

“Dude, I feel weird. Let me help.”

Derek shoves into Stiles with his shoulder, “I’ve told you not to call me that.”

Stiles feels goosebumps rise over his bare arm where Derek touched him, “I- What? No. I’ll call you what I want and I can do the dishes too!”

Derek sets down the plate he’s washing and groans, “I didn’t say you couldn’t. I just wanted to p-”

Derek stops abruptly, his cheeks colouring.

Stiles quirks an eyebrow and smiles, “What were you going to say?”

Derek clears his throat, “Quit your whining. I’m the Alpha, you better listen.”

Stiles hums, “Okay. I was just trying to be a good guest. You should be thankful. I never help out when I’m at Scott’s. Sometimes Melissa just kicks us both out. She doesn’t like messes. Oh! That’s an idea, now that she knows about ‘wolves, why don’t you hang out with her? You’ll get along great! Both have OCD and questionable exes.”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, “You want me to make friends with an old lady?”

Stiles scoffs, “Hey! Don’t knock it till you try it. And you’re old now too, right?”

Derek looks unamused, “Why don’t you just leave me at an elderly home then next time we go out?”

Stiles laughs softly.

When the dishes are done, Derek follows Stiles out of the loft. Stiles doesn’t complain, it’s only going to be a waste of time.

When they walk out of the building. Derek heads to his car again.

“I told you before Derek, I don’t go anywhere without Roscoe.”

“Stiles, that jeep is running on fumes and I can’t let you get stuck in the middle of nowhere on my watch. You know I let you drive that jeep on other days-”

Stiles scoffs, “Let me? You don’t let me do anything, Derek. Don’t try to bully me.”

Derek growls and pulls at his hair in frustration, his eyebrows scrunched together, “I didn’t mean that. Just- why don’t you just listen to me.”

Stiles stands his ground, “No. You’re making me late for school.”

Derek groans, “We wouldn’t be late if you’d just listen to me.”

Stiles groans, “Ughh, fine.”

They pile into Derek’s Camaro. When they pull into the parking lot, the entire pack is waiting for Stiles outside the building.

Derek opens the door and Stiles gets out. When he’s halfway through the school crowd, moving towards the pack, Derek yells from the car.

“I’ll come back to pick you up in the afternoon, Stiles. Have a great day, don’t forget to eat your lunch.”

The kids around Stiles burst into giggles as he stares open-mouth at Derek who peels out of the parking lot with a smirk on his face.

-x-

The day passes slowly as usual. Harris and Coach Finstock make their lives a living hell in Chemistry and Econ.

The only respite he gets is when the entire pack hangs out during lunch.

Even that is cut short when some jocks get into a food fight in the cafeteria and they’re all ushered back to class quickly.

So, when classes let out, Stiles as good as runs out of his English class. Jackson and Eric who share the class laugh as he rushes. Jackson calls after him, “Someone’s excited to see their ride.”

Erica adds slyly, “Mmhhmm, take that ride for a ride.”

Stiles only flips them off as he foes towards the parking lot. He’s had enough of school today, he’s okay with skipping lacrosse practise for one day, especially when his presence doesn’t make a difference.

Derek pulls into the parking lot just as Stiles reaches. Instead of opening the door, Derek rolls down the windows and points to the kids in lacrosse jerseys who are walking towards the field.

“Why aren’t you going?”

“Because I’m always on the bench.”

“Stiles, if you don’t work for it, you aren’t getting off the bench ever.”

“Like I care.”

“Lie.”

“Quit doing that!”

Derek sighs, “But I got all these protein shakes for you, in case you had practise.”

Stiles groans, “One day, Hale, one day, I’m going to learn how to ignore your blatant guilt traps. Then you won’t stand a chance against me.”

Derek climbs out of his car gracefully and smirks at Stiles, “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.” He pushes a pack of juice boxes into Stiles’ chest, “Right now, we need to get you to practise.”

Stiles drags his feet as Derek walks towards the field. It’s going to be a long evening.

They see the entire pack sitting on the bleachers on the other side of the field, so Derek and Stiles begin walking towards them. Derek softly compliments the betas, “Good to see that you’re all sticking to your groups.”

Even though he says it at a normal volume, Erica, Issac, Boyd, Scott and Jackson hear him easily, passing on his message to Lydia and Allison.

Allison shoots Derek a quick smile.

Derek is a good alpha, Stiles decides. Not that he hasn’t realised this fact before, but the proof of Derek’s soft and caring nature makes Stiles feel warm all over, like a hug on a rainy day.

They’re just about to climb up the bleacher when Coach Finstock’s shrill voice halts them, “Cedric?”

Stiles only turns around to see which unfortunate kid’s name has Coach gotten wrong today. It’s only when Derek steps forward that Stiles realises that the coach is talking to Derek .

“Good evening, Coach.”

Finstock nods, his haywire hair shaking even with all the product in it, “Haven’t seen you around since the last state championship.”

Before Derek can offer a polite reply, Finstock adds a back-handed comment, “Well, I mean that’s excluding the time when you went on a murder rampage around the school, but we didn’t meet then, so I’m not counting that.”

Stiles expects Derek to go into his aggressive alpha posture, but he remains slouched and smiling. Smiling at Coach Finstock. Stiles wonders if he’s in a nightmare, but he has the correct number of fingers.

Derek smiles at Coach, “Yeah. It’s nice to meet you again too, Coach.”

Stiles shakes his head, “Was anyone going to tell me that you were on the lacrosse team under Coach Finstock?”

Derek rolls his eyes, “How old do you think I am, Stiles?”

Before Stiles can answer, Jackson whispers under his breath, loud enough that Coach would also hear if he wasn’t so enamoured with seeing Cedric in such a long time, “Ohhh, daddy.”

Stiles can’t help the heat on his face. The pack starts laughing uncontrollably.

Coach asks Derek, “So, Cedric, what’re you doing here?”

Derek thumps Stiles on the back, shoving him forward, “I’ve been thinking about helping Stiles out with his practice.”

Helping? What the hell?

Finstock looks at Stiles like he’s only just noticed he’s there. He asks Derek sceptically, “Bilinski?”

Derek lets out a confused growl which Coach simply ignores. He “whispers” to Derek, while looking at Stiles, “Look, Cedric, I’m going to be honest, Bilinski isn’t a great potential if you know what I mean...Why don’t you-” Coach scans the field and the stands, his eyes glint when they latch onto the intended target, “Why don’t you help Jackson? He’s a great kid.”

Before Derek can answer, Coach turns around and walks away.

Stiles chuckles and asks Derek softly, “Is he just like you remember?”

Derek’s mouth twists, “Yup.”

With that, Stiles pushes off to the lockers to get changed. When he comes back, Coach is yelling at everyone to line up.

-x-

The practice is quite unusual. As usual, Coach goes over the new plays and sets them into two teams to simulate a game and practise the plays, hoping to get a good nap in his office.

Only, Derek starts yelling as soon as someone commits a foul that usually gets ignored.

Horror slowly dawns on Stiles as he realises what Derek is. He’s a soccer mom. This might not be soccer, but Derek's enthusiasm is the same. He climbs down the steps quickly and lands in the grass, pointing at Greenburg, “That was a foul.”

Coach groans and turns around, “What is your damage, Cedric? I need my beauty sleep.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “Yeah. You can go, I can take it from here.”

-x-

Stiles evaluates his muscles in the shower. His body has never hurt this badly before. Without looking around, Stiles realises all the guys are taking extra time in the hot shower, hoping to gain some feeling back.

Stiles realises now, why the betas are usually so petulant when Derek asks them to train. Speaking of, the betas on the team are the only ones who don’t look dead on their feet.

Stiles feels the sorriest for all the humans on his team. They’re going to have to make go with muscle relaxants and gels, while he can easily whip up one of the remedies Deaton has taught him.

When Stiles gets out of the locker room, Derek’s waiting in his car. They drive to the loft first, change cars and head back to Stile’s house.

Even though Stiles; father isn’t home, Derek climbs through the window.

That night, they both get into bed without any fuss. Running after a whole lacrosse team can tire an alpha out too.

“Why do you always climb through the window?” Stiles asks sleepily.

Derek shrugs, “Makes me feel strong.”

Stiles chuckles, his breath making Derek’s eyelashes fan out, “You know I’ve spelled the mountain ash barrier to let you in, right?”

Derek huffs, “Go to sleep, Stiles.”

Stiles yawns before replying, “Goodnight, Cedric.”

Derek grumbles, “I will kill you in your sleep.”

Stiles falls asleep before he can laugh.

-x-

The next morning, Stiles wakes up slowly, reaching his hands out for the warm body he expects to be next to him. His mind slowly comes back online and he realises exactly how weird poking a sleeping person, especially an Alpha can be.

But he’s in luck today because the only things that meet him are a still-warm bed and ruffled sheets. Clearly, Derek has been up for a little while.

Stiles sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He looks around the room, but Derek isn’t there.

[liigainenglish]

The Hockey Lingo - English to Finnish

THE LEAGUE

league = liiga/sarja 

team(s)/club(s) = joukkue(et)

roster = pelaajaluettelo

player(s) = pelaaja(t)

lineup = kokoonpano

line = ketju

national team = maajoukkue

trade = vaihtokauppa (not usual in Finland)

transfer = siirto

coach = valmentaja

referee = tuomari

linesman = linjatuomari

fan(s) = kannattaja(t) / fani(t)

THE PLAYERS

forward = hyökkääjä

center = keskushyökkääjä / sentteri

winger = laitahyökkääjä / laituri

two-way forward = kahden suunnan hyökkääjä

left = vasen

right = oikea

defenseman = puolustaja

d-man = pakki

d to d = pakki-pakki

goaltender = maalivahti

goalie = veska/mokke

captain = kapteeni

alternate captain = varakapteeni

rookie = tulokas

THE GAMES

regular season = runkosarja

game(s) = ottelu(t) / peli(t)

schedule = otteluohjelma (in sports)

regulation time = virallinen peliaika

intermission = erätauko

overtime = jatkoaika (during playoffs jatkoerä)

shootout = voittolaukauskilpailu

final score = tulos

win = voitto

lose = tappio

standings = sarjataulukko

score board (players) = pistepörssi

stats = tilastot

goal = maali

assist = syöttö

point = piste

THE CHAMPIONSHIP

playoffs = pudotuspelit/playoffit/pleijarit

playoffs qualifier = säälipleijarit (not official)

round = sarja

quarterfinals = neljännesvälierät

semifinals = semifinaali

finals = finaali

(Finnish) championship = (Suomen) mestaruus

gold = kulta

silver = hopea

bronze = pronssi

trophy = palkinto

THE EQUIPMENT

net = maali

puck = kiekko

stick = maila

helmet/mask = kypärä

jersey = pelipaita

glove(s) = hanska(t)

skate/s = luistin/luistimet

goalie pads = patjat

pads = suojat

THE ARENA AND FACILITIES

arena = areena

indoor ice rink = jäähalli

rink = kaukalo

ice = jää

ice rink = luistelurata (means skating track)

locker room = pukukoppi

offensive zone = hyökkäysalue

neutral zone = keskialue

penalty box = jäähyaitio/rangaistusaitio

bench = pelaaja-aitio

blueline = siniviiva

goal crease = maalialue

goal post = maalirauta

top post = ylärima

top shelf = ylämummo (not official)

THE PLAY

offense = hyökkäys

defense = puolustus

faceoff = aloitus

score a goal = tehdä maali

game winning goal = voittomaali

hat trick = hattutemppu

pass = syöttö

shot = veto/laukaus

shot on goal = laukaus maalia kohti

save = torjunta

saves percentage = torjuntaprosentti

glove save = hanskatorjunta

icing = pitkä kiekko

time on ice = peliaika

speed = nopeus

forecheck = karvaus

backcheck = takakarvaus

check/tackle = taklaus

deke/dangle = harhautus

breakaway = läpiajo

wrist shot = rannelaukaus

backhand = rystylyönti (more commonly rysty)

slap shot = lämäri (lyöntilaukaus)

saucerpass = lättysyöttö

five-hole = länki

one-timer = laukaus suoraan syötöstä

hand pass = käsisyöttö

rebound = ripari

redirect = uudelleenohjaus

toe drag = jalkakynä/jalkakikka (not entirely sure about this)

high wrap/lacrosse goal = ilmaveivi

THE SPECIAL PLAY

power play / PP = ylivoima / yv

penalty kill / PK = alivoima / av

4 on 4 = tasavajaa

5 on 3 = 5 vs 3 or kahden miehen alivoima

power play goal = ylivoimamaali

shorthanded goal = alivoimamaali

empty net(ter) = tyhjä maali

penalty shot = rangaistuslaukaus

extra attacker = ylimääräinen hyökkääjä

full strength = täysilukuinen

(coach’s) challenge = (valmentajan) haasto

THE PENALTIES

penalty = jäähy/rangaistus

penalty minutes = rangaistusminuutit

suspension = pelikielto

holding = kiinnipitäminen

slashing = huitominen

hooking = koukkaaminen

tripping = kampitus/kampittaminen

high sticking = korkea maila

cross-checking = poikittainen maila

boarding = laitataklaus

interference = estäminen

embellishment = sukeltaminen

spearing = keihästäminen

charging = ryntäys

roughing = väkivaltaisuus

fighting = tappeleminen

delay of the game = pelin viivyttäminen

too many men on ice = liikaa pelaajia jäällä

unsportsmanlike conduct = käytösrangaistus

team penalty = joukkuerangaistus (usually used for too many men)

goalie interference = maalivahdin häirintä

hit on the head = päähän kohdistunut isku