#but they still are so deeply engraved into your soul for better or worse and they mean something to you even if they're not perfect | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raleigh-ocean · 3 years

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daffodils for the queen of hearts | billie dean howard x dara ann lynch

words: 12,824

summary: Once upon a time, there was a queen whose heart locked in order to not be harmed again, behind heavy walls of stone. However, the story isn’t about those who she slayed in order to keep going, but about how a little unexpected flower started to grow in a crack at her feet and once she realized, a whole garden of them was plaguing its way to her heart. Four times Billie wanted to say ‘I love you’ and the time she finally did, with a little sweet epilogue at the end.

n/a: with this done, it’s time to let them rest for a little while and be secondary characters to the other ocs. I think I love them the most out of everyone and that’s why I wanted to write this for them. If we had to make a timeline of everything, it would start with them as well, the day they met...I get emotional thinking about them haha they were the start of everything, it’s impossible not to. I hope y’all enjoy this, from now on I’ll dedicate my time to fix the ocs entries on the archive and doing short things.

November, 2012.

Who the fuck was ringing the bell at this damned hour?

Her tiredness and her headache as well got even worse with the mere thought of standing up from her desk chair. Maybe if she didn’t move or made a sound, they'd go away...but what was she thinking? It was impossible that someone could see her in her studio.

Looking at her laptop, Billie managed to check that it wasn’t past dinner time as she thought, but barely after lunch. How much time had she been at it? Her eyes drifted to the ashtray in her desk and she had to painfully look away because...well, there were too many cigarette butts there.

The doorbell rang again and then some powerful knocks followed.

It was enough to get Billie's already on the verge nerves, so with her best scowl all over her tired face Billie went straight to the front door.

Without thinking, fast like a punch, that was her usual approach to anything that bothered her...and usually when she was normal, it was something engraved in her persona, her DNA, passed through generations of Howards like some sick move to make them like they were.

“Listen, I don’t know what you want but if you want to keep that hand you better g-”

Billie barely registered the bright yellow trench coat before her eyes went up, a few inches, enough to encounter heavy brown eyes looking at her with a glint of surprise. If those damned dimples didn’t cause such a good impression on her, she would have closed the door firmly.

“Oh, I thought you liked my hands,” the woman in front of her was smiling, but Billie could perfectly hear the softness behind that.

“What are you doing here, Dara?” Billie had to remind herself to be an ounce polite to the woman she had been seeing for two years already. She closed her eyes a bit, tired, and missed how the other woman looked at her worriedly.

“Three days without hearing about you got me worried, honey,” Dara’s voice was clear and sweet. “And I was right when I decided to stop by.”

Almost with shame, Billie fixed her gown a bit, but if someone asked her it was because she was getting cold. As much as she was warm and cozy inside her apartment, it was pretty much late autumn outside. Dara crossed her arms under her chest, her bracelets clinking ever so soft yet for Billie’s ears was loud enough, and she waited for the blonde to speak again.

“So...are you letting me in or are you going to catch a cold because you’re in short pajamas, on your doorstep, in the middle of November?” Dara put behind her ears two locks of hair and then Billie saw how adamant she was about what she was saying.

“I’m not in the mood for anything,” Billie warned and she could see how Dara’s soft features hardened. “I’m quite busy, in fact, need to concentrate, need silence, ne-”

“Billie Dean,” Billie looked at Dara again right in the eyes, because it was rare to hear her full name from the younger woman’s lips. “What you need is a shower, something to eat and to take a fucking nap,” her voice had this edge on it that made Billie feel her cheeks get warm, out of shame once again.

"Seriously, I've lots of things to do for the program, we are about to get the pilot and we can't fail, I can't fail," Billie was trying too hard to push away Dara, to not let her see the mess inside the apartment - because yeah, she saw in her way to the door the fucking mess that it was. "The crew is counting on me."

"Well, and I was counting on them to keep you sane and healthy but look at you," Dara then played with her car keys in her left hand, making Billie to focus briefly on how her rings clinked along them. "I promise you that once you get a break, I'll help you with everything that's left, okay? Let's put my secretary course to use."

Billie stood there for a few seconds, trying to discern if Dara was being serious at all, and it was perfectly clear - by her posture, how she kept looking directly at her, how her voice didn't raise and kept the soft undertone even when it was obvious Billie's behaviour was getting under her skin - that she was, in fact, worrying deeply about her.

God, even the way Dara was looking at her, those big warm brown eyes looking at her like she was looking right into her soul? As if she could see that she did need all of that, but was too stubborn to admit it.

She couldn’t say no to such a thing.

So Billie only moved aside to let her lover in, not saying a word, but feeling how her chest burned with a strange sensation that was pushing the need of crying into her. Dara didn’t say much after that, smiling sideways and giving her a cuddle in her cheek with two fingers.

The moment Dara started to move around the apartment it was like the sun was coming in, even when it was terribly cloudy outside. All Billie could do was follow her like a lost puppy, she felt that vulnerable, but Dara never judged her upon seeing the mess around her. She was wearing her uniform from the dinner she was working in, the dress Billie only saw her in once, but she didn’t seem to actually care while going around and opening windows.

“Why don’t you take the shower now?” Dara suggested after cleaning Billie’s desk in a few quick moves. “I’m gonna check what’s in your fridge to make you something.”

“I don’t think there’s a lot,” Billie said, a mix of more shame and confusion laced in her words.

“It’s okay lovely,” Dara smiled and Billie thought for a second she was breathless, because she was unable to say something coherent. Her hands went to Billie’s cheeks, caressing with her thumbs and then pressing a kiss to her lips. Now that she was thinking about it, she actually missed her. “Let me take care of it, okay? You just don’t worry, I got you.”

If we were being honest here, Billie would have tried to form some kind of answer, some kind of witty remark or even something to say back, but all she could do was to kiss Dara once again, with all that warmth that was pushing in her chest and everything. Only a sweet giggled moan from her lover managed to make her break the kiss.

“Just go, come on.”

And now, more like a love sick puppy, Billie let herself indulge. When was the last time someone had cared about her like that? Not even her father, who was still pretty much alive, was so adamant on checking up on her. Not her sister, not her mother. But Dara was there, just fucking there when none asked her to be, cleaning her mess and just...just being her.

When did she win the lottery like that without noticing?

Once she was out of the shower, several minutes later, the faint smell of food made its way into the bathroom, in between the lavender scent and the soft almond one of her cream, and Billie realized she was way too hungry. Maybe all that coffee was enough to keep her alive, but it wasn't nutritious at all. With only her bathrobe and her wet hair, Billie made a straight bee line towards the kitchen and the view there...well, let's say, it totally dumbfounded her.

Dara had pulled her short hair in some sort of tiny ponytail, her rings and all lying on the counter to not be a bother, and she was humming to a song while cooking. Billie didn't know if she actually had rice, but there was some boiling in a pot, while Dara was stirring something in a pan, something that smelt like veggies and the Pekinese duck's leftovers she had from a couple days ago.

It was such a view? It made Billie feel like something was exploding in her chest and, without knowing, she felt her body move without a clear order from her brain just to envelope her lover from behind. Dara didn't startle at all, and one of her hands soon found its way over Billie's, which was over her stomach. Billie wanted to cry at that point, but she contained herself, enough to just let go a tiny whine that got lost in between Dara's shoulder blades thanks to their height difference.

"How was the shower?" asked Dara with a sweet voice and not stopping from what she was doing. "Feeling a bit better?"

"I do, it's like all the cobwebs in my brain melted," Dara chuckled at that and brought one of Billie's hands to her lips, kissing several times her knuckles with...love? "What are you doing?"

"My father always said rice with some beans was the way to go, so I asked your neighbour for a cup of beans after I discovered some rice in your cupboard," Billie took a peek over her lover's shoulder while she was explaining. "But I also overheard my mother yelling that wasn't enough, so I dug in your fridge to find some leftovers, so here we are," Billie couldn't help but leave a kiss in Dara's nape, making her hum contentedly. "I hope you like this monstrosity I'm cooking."

Billie wanted to say that she was going to like anything Dara cooked for her because she did it specially for her. Even if it was just some plain omelette, she would eat it like it was the most delicious thing.

So when, together, they managed to set the 'table' in the kitchen counter, Billie just kept at taking the 'sunlight' bath that being with Dara meant. She let her feed her, she let her talk about her day and things that made her mind to relax just for the sake of it, and she found herself loving every second of it? The feeling in her chest getting bigger and warmer and filling her with a kind of happiness she wasn't used to...but that she was growing to love.

And she was trying to push Dara away, when she made her feel that she was there, living on Earth but feeling like she was in cloud nine.

For a second she doubted if she was really tired enough to take a nap, but it only took her a couple kisses and a tiny remark glance to remember that yes, she really needed it. She was about to pass out on the couch when Dara lied down by her side, hugging her as she could, taking in count how tiny Billie's couch was, and she couldn't help but indulge once again in the other woman's presence. The earthy scent in her skin, the way her own skin trembled softly with a strange static, her breathing and the beating of her heart.

Everything was like the best combination for Billie to just disconnect.

That's why she didn't even notice how Dara moved from her position holding her to go and check all the work she had done so far, to correct some numbers and lines here and there so they made actual sense. And that's also why she asked her not to go home that night, to stay with her, when she woke up alone on the couch - bundled in a blanket - and only needed to move her head enough to see Dara in the office, soft features deep in concentration while typing on the laptop.

Was it strange to think about how much the other woman made her feel? Like, everytime she crossed glances with Dara something hot - not warm, pure hotness in the pit of her stomach, burning her in a pleasant yet unknown way - swirled inside of her, asking her for more.

Not more in a sexual way - and that for a fact they had it covered really well -, more in a 'I want to stay close to you' way, more in a 'why are you so cute when you smile?' way, more in a 'what are you doing to the cold and unapproachable Billie Dean Howard?' way. Billie, while walking behind Dara, hands on her neck and shoulders while pressing a tender kiss in the crown of her head, thought that she wasn't really minding those new ways. Upon hearing Dara's giggle because she tickled her ear without noticing, she didn't feel like missing her past lovers or even the need of finding a few more.

Billie felt that it was more than okay if Dara stayed like that, as her only priority in the field, for a little longer.

Why couldn't she indulge in what she believed was the beginning of love a bit more before everything went downhill like always?

June, 2014.

Days like those made Billie always want to just disintegrate into oblivion and become part of the universe in some kind of magic oniric way.

She could handle very long days of shooting, going places, getting things done here and there and being able to communicate with people in a more physical way; however, office days were basically Hell. How come she grew to hate making calls and typing at her laptop for hours? That’s what she did for a great part of her twenties and early thirties...well, maybe that’s why she kinda hated it, but the point was that she hated being behind a desk.

With all her dark and terrible soul.

Billie couldn’t help but chuckle with that last thought, making her way to her apartment. That was a running joke between her and the crew after two years of being together, mostly because sometimes Billie was too harsh or had a more realistic approach to everything and clashed with everyone else in the room. But there was someone she knew that couldn’t agree with that, not even in a joking tone.

Crossing the front door in silence, she slightly got startled by the sound of the washing machine along the television, making her stop dead in her tracks for a second.

Three weeks already and she still didn’t get used to her new normalcy for the time being.

However, she felt herself soften at the view once she turned her head to scan the living room. Said view was none else but Dara, her lover for the last four years, sleeping soundly in the, probably, most uncomfortable position ever which was with her legs draped over one side of the single sofa, a comic issue over her face and her arms acting like some sort of blanket by the way she was hugging herself in her sleep.

The stress of not finding a job nor a new apartment was too much for her, Billie noted, that she always fell asleep right away due to all the tiredness accumulating in her body.

It had been an awful surprise knowing that Dara had been sleeping in her car and crashing on friends' couches for a week because she was kicked out of her tiny apartment, after not being able to pay due to losing her job and not telling Billie anything about it. Everything happened the month prior, so you could see how well Dara could hide something like that or how bad Billie was at noticing stuff when it came to her. But the important part in all of this was that, after discovering the situation, she had made Dara stay with her and save her lots of worries until she was back on her feet again.

"Cute…" Billie felt herself chuckle lightly, placing her bag on the coffee table and then getting the comic out of Dara's face skillfully slow. "Too cute for your own good."

And once she placed the issue in the coffee table as well, Billie couldn't help but sit there and...and just admire her sleeping beauty.

As of lately she had caught herself doing that, just observing Dara in the most unexpected moments. Her mind had been buzzing so hard with stress that doing such a simple thing calmed her for some reason. The lazy mornings that they had, watching Dara do her tiny ‘beauty’ routines, having someone alive around reminding her that she was pretty much living, not that much take out food anymore, the warmth of her body in both innocent and not that innocent way by her side in bed, the happiness Dara radiated the second she put a feet in the apartment…

...God, that was melting Billie’s heart so fast and so good.

Billie stretched a bit her neck, letting go a deep sigh while focusing on her heels to have something to do. Almost forty years she had and only a handful of times she felt something similar. Similar because this...love she was developing for Dara was on another level, one that she never explored before even when she could identify her own cues.

Being honest, that was also stressing her a bit, but at the same time her overthinker big brain was starting to wonder what if they stayed like this. What if Dara didn’t have to leave? What if they kept this ‘house-play’ and see where it was leading? What if she wanted Dara to never worry again about not having, at least, a roof over her head? What if…?

“Hmm…” Billie’s eyes shot up upon hearing the soft sound of Dara starting to wake up, looking at the not anymore asleep woman through her fingers because somehow she was covering her face with both hands. “Billie?”

“Were you waiting for someone else?” Billie couldn’t help herself from using her own humor to cover all the stress she just put on herself.

“Tonta,” Dara chuckled, still half asleep, but she reached for Billie the same with her right hand, both lacing fingers as if they did that since forever. “For you, always,” she closed her eyes again, trying to stretch a bit before looking at Billie with droopy eyes and a cute pout in her lips. “Sorry I don’t have dinner ready.”

“Don’t be,” Billie smiled tiredly at Dara and checked her wristwatch. “We can get some thai, don’t you think?” She traced with her thumb Dara’s knuckles and, without breaking the contact, Billie stood up and got closer so she could lean and kiss her forehead. “Tired day?”

“Thai is perfect, extra spicy,” Now it was time for Dara to take advantage of the situation and when Billie was kissing her forehead, she circled her waist unexpectedly to pull her into her lap after getting a bit comfier. “But yeah, I got like two interviews today and then I went all the way to Sunland to see a place,” Dara nuzzled her nose in Billie’s neck, leaving a big soft kiss there that made Billie’s heart squeeze. “I don’t think they’ll get me in one, but the lady in this shop seemed pretty impressed when she knew I could read my cards.”

Billie had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, mostly because she still thought Dara could be much more than that. She respected Tarot, she respected Dara’s beliefs...yet she couldn’t help herself to think how that was of such caliber. Billie knew Dara had practically the same gift as her, she had seen her using it every time they visited Constance’s house, so she couldn’t come up with a reason for her to not make a career path of it.

“Is that so?” Billie raised her hand to put a lock of hair behind Dara’s ear. “How was the place at Sunland?”

“Yeah, but if that lady decides to not get me...well, I should keep looking for a job,” Dara sighed and Billie’s heart hurt a bit. “And the place at Sunland...was a room, actually. It was a nice one, for sure, but the people who also lived there…” Dara clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Me dio yuyu.”

And after that, while Dara kept talking about her trip to Sunland, it left Billie room to think about why she was getting so distressed by the fact of wanting to pursue more with the cutie pie she managed to have sitting in her lap after a few minutes, changing their positions. She was merely listening to what Dara was saying, taking advantage of the new position to let her hands wander over soft thighs and nice butt, and finding some sort of solace and comfort in being so intimate with someone else.

Feeling Dara fit so well against her body, her soft kisses making her feel all the stress slipping away...Billie’s eyes closed to indulge in all of that, a pleased tiny smirk covering her lips as Dara’s cuddles were getting more slow and intense.

“Don’t go Annie, stay with me here,” saying those words left Billie breathless, ice spreading right away through her lungs. “Only worry about getting a job.”

Billie knew Dara was still on top of her because all her warmth was intensifying for some reason, trying to melt away the cold that was trying to settle in her. She couldn’t open her eyes, afraid of the response, because she never did that, being forward with what she wanted. It made her feel about to cry, being completely honest.

Because what she wanted was to explore going further with the first woman she felt that deep connection.

Dara’s right hand was still resting in her neck, thumb caressing there, and her face was hiding as well on the other side, because Billie could feel her breathing ever so soft and warm against the patch of skin Dara had been leaving a hickey. Then she felt her lover move enough and her left hand went to her neck as well, Billie feeling how Dara was holding her head in place, indexes massaging right behind her ears - where she always felt a never-ending tension - and thumbs caressing her jaw.

“Amor, mírame,” Billie knew little to nothing about spanish, but she had listened to Dara enough during the last four years to at least understand a bit...however, opening her eyes was really hard right now. “Bills.”

“Yeah?”

She still had her eyes closed, but Dara was trying to coax her to open them by getting closer again and kissing her cheeks until Billie found herself doing it little by little. What she found before her was the softest expression she ever saw in Dara, slight concern in the way she was frowning softly.

“Are you sure about this…?” there was worry laced in Dara’s voice and Billie hated it, hated that she was worrying about it. “Like, do you really want me to stay?”

Billie wanted to scream on top of her lungs that yes, she wanted nothing more than that. Dara didn’t move from her lap and Billie was thankful, because her hands pulled her closer by taking a good hold of her ass. It made Dara yelp, surprised, and Billie laugh to let go of the anxious and feral feeling.

“I am, I do,” she leaned to kiss Dara’s neck and then bite her softly. “Our house, you and me, sounds good enough to not go to Sunland?”

It totally did, making it even more clear when Dara’s hips moved against her.

“Yeah, totally, I stay,” Billie felt her whole body react from the inside out, any cold left replaced by a raging fire. “But Billie?”

“Hmm?”

“If you call me Annie once more, I think I’ll cum right away, no touching needed.”

October, 2015.

Talking with Ginebra, her investor for the show, was always a conversation that Billie awaited with good spirits - joke totally intended.

The woman was a pleasure to work with, she was invested in every part of the show and, since day one, always treated Billie like her own child for some reason. Billie thanked finding someone like her, being honest, because she always made her feel listened no matter what they were talking about.

This semester’s meeting had started like every other, early in the morning. Gin liked to spend the whole day with Billie, doing whatever she had to do for the day and talking like they were merely friends instead of having a professional relationship. They got coffee, went to the tiny meeting room to see where they were filming next, go over some practical stuff and then, now in reality, they were getting lunch in Billie’s office.

Everything was going fine, Gin even asked about Dara, which made Billie smile like a fool in love and Gin pointing it out, good laugh and according blush along.

Everything was fine, until it wasn’t.

They were talking about some banal stuff when someone knocked hurriedly on Billie’s door. Everyone in the crew knew that Billie didn’t usually like to be interrupted when she was with Ginebra, so the first thing she did was look at her companion apologetically before saying a tired ‘come in’ before taking a drag of her cigarette.

“What’s the matter Piper?” Billie didn’t look directly at her assistant, smiling lightly to Ginebra first. “Jean dropped a lightbulb again?”

When she finally looked at Piper, Billie felt her smile freeze on her face upon being hit by a wave of fear and worry coming from the girl. Piper seemed to have ran all the way from wherever she was to the office, clearly showing in her ragged breathing, and was clutching her phone against her chest.

“No, it’s- Billie, I-”

“Take a deep breath hon,” Gin suggested while Billie stood up from her chair. “She’s not gonna eat you alive.”

“It’s the hospital, they want to talk to you,” her eyes were a mirror of all those waves of feelings Billie was getting. “Dara got into a car accident.”

To say that Billie entered in an automatic state, was an understatement.

Getting into the phone was hard, listening to the nurse telling her the whole context of the accident and trying to suck all the anxiety up in order to get there as soon as possible. But the fact that Gin had to take her car keys from her trembling hands, gave away that she wasn’t doing a great job at it, even worse when she wasn’t able to say something until they were at the hospital reception.

In her head, Billie was replaying and burning every second of memory she had of Dara from that very same day, letting Ginebra guide her body around the corridors.

They’ve started with a lazy morning, both waking up way too early to start their day and deciding to just spend those blissful forty-five minutes kissing and sleepy talking, hands teasing but too comfy to actually act on the tease. Dara had made coffee for her afterwards and Billie just hugged her from behind meanwhile, talking about what they were going to do in their day. She had complimented Dara a lot when she played a bit dress up so Billie could pick her outfit, because they sometimes did that, and it earned her the promise of a surprise once she was back later in the night.

So good and so peaceful for once, that Billie was feeling herself glitch with the thought of this reality.

It wasn’t of any help that she had to wait to see Dara. That was what truly sent her spiraling into her usual overthinking, having Ginebra lead her to a chair from the waiting room and try to make her react in some other way that wasn’t trying to chomp off her acrylic nails or digging a hole on the tile with her heel.

“You know she’s strong,” Gin said while resting her arm on Billie’s shoulders, the comfort of the gesture being heavy on her. “She’s gonna get through it, dear.”

However she wasn’t sure about it an hour later, when they finally let her see Dara after they moved her to a room after getting out of surgery.

Billie’s insides twisted in such an unpleasant way that she had to hold herself onto Gin because her knees got weak. Until that second everything felt a bad dream, a nightmare she wasn’t able to wake up from but mixed with the feeling that she wasn’t living it at all, but when her eyes scanned Dara’s figure…

God, it truly sent her downhill.

There, laying still in bed and connected to way too many things, clad in hospital gown, bandages and her skin not glowing like everyday. The neck brace sent a shiver down her own spine and her eyes went to both her legs, left one on a cast and right one on a bigger brace directly attached at her hip.

Her heart was totally ripped out of her chest in that very moment.

“Excuse me?” She couldn’t look away from Dara but Billie felt Gin moving by her side when the nurse came back. “I brought her pertenances, this is everything she had on herself and what they brought after from the wreck,” Billie was starting to feel like she was fading, having to support herself on the end of the bed with a hand. “Whenever she’s awake, please do call me, okay?”

“Of course, thank you,” Gin was polite and kind with the nurse and getting reminded that she wasn’t alone was what prevented Billie from passing out. “Billie, darling, are you…?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she doubled her response to ground herself, recovering the facade, passing her hand over her mouth for a second before turning around to look at Ginebra and take Dara’s stuff from her hands. “I need to go home and bring things she might need back, I need...I need to call…” Billie stuttered when she felt the facade didn’t last more than a few seconds, finding it really hard to keep on talking because her eyes watered fast and her throat closed. “The insurance, where her car is...” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath that didn’t even help. “...I, Gin, work, her parents and…”

Billie felt hopeless and helpless the second everything came to her like a tidal wave. Raw fear translated into tears that made the other woman to hug her tightly. This nightmare that came true, the fact that something bad had happened to Dara, was enough to make Billie cry her eyes out while holding onto Ginebra as if her life depended on it.

Like a short-circuit that made her revert into a state she had been hiding and pushing back for almost five years, even before meeting Dara and becoming the Billie that she hated the most.

When Gin managed to calm her down enough and told her she was going to their apartment so Billie didn’t have to move from Dara’s side, Billie finally went through Dara’s belongings. The only clothing item there was Dara’s wool jacket, then her purse - with most of the stuff trashed -, and then the tiny pieces of jewelry that she wore that day. Bracelet, two of the four rings she wore daily and her gold necklace, with the gold cross and the Virgin of Fatima’s little medallion that had her initials and birth date behind.

Billie pulled the necklace out and tied it in her left wrist so she could wear it as some sort of bracelet form, leaving the paper bag against the wall before pulling the chair there and placing it by the bedside. She was afraid of touching Dara, or harming her in some way, but Billie managed to do it carefully so they were connected. Even like this, Dara’s touch was warm and welcoming and Billie felt her tears start to fall again.

She had to call Dara’s parents to tell them, she had to call and do so many things, but in that moment Billie could only think that she almost lost what was the most dear to her. Lately she had been wondering how much her love was developing, growing and learning, but that the situation broke her facade, her attempts of getting her shit together to not fall apart, told her enough.

Told her that she wasn’t unbreakable like she always thought, that she could get out of any situation by the sheer willpower of her stubbornness and the many things in her head that she didn’t fix for all her life.

Told her that now, something inside her head, knew that she wasn’t alone anymore.

That she had someone she, finally, worried so deeply about.

Was this what Helena yelled at her about six years ago, when they broke up so messily and terrible?

“Let me take care of this, okay? You just don’t worry, I got you,” Billie felt herself whisper that, so soft and tiny, like a memory from every time Dara had taken care of her. “I got you, I do Annie…”

I got you, I love you.

Billie couldn’t say that out loud, not in this situation, not when she was feeling that anything she said in the hospital would be jinxed. But she was feeling her love for Dara burning her inside like thousand suns, as if the mere thought of leaving her side would make her combust, the mere thought of doing anything else but loving her girl would make some God up above them smite her.

So she put in the back of her mind anything she needed to get done until Dara was awake, her lips pressed to Dara’s hand and trying to calm herself, stay vulnerable with the only person in the world she could be vulnerable around, and then go back little by little to the broken facade in order to get things done.

Dara, when she opened her eyes and felt like a whole zoo walked over her, didn't have the heart to comment about Billie’s messed up make-up and terrible face because all she could sense was not only the worry and sadness, the anxiety, that Billie was feeling.

She was also getting the bits of love she knew they were there all along.

May, 2016.

If there was one thing Billie loved about going to visit Dara’s parents is that they always ended up cuddling in the lower bunk of Dara’s old shared room. Even when later her back would kill her, she loved it the same because she gotta have her darling girl close.

Today was one of those days Dara had finally managed to fall deeply asleep and Billie knew it just by the way she had found the perfect place to hide her face in her chest and didn’t bother in moving her trapped arm between their bodies. Her breathing was a bit heavier as well and when Billie’s lips brushed softly against her skin - wherever she could, forehead, temple, cheek -, Dara curled better against her and hummed a little in her sleep.

The knowledge, little unconscious cue, was enough to send a wave of warmth all over Billie.

That made her feel not so tired, because when one of them managed to get a good night of sleep the other tended to have the opposite. Thankfully it wasn’t Billie’s first time being restless, so the only thing she got herself busy with while being unable to close her eyes and nap was to caress Dara’s back lightly and fix the blanket over them.

Being honest, it was the first time in seven months she felt she had a real break and some room in her head to think.

After the accident, Dara needed a lot of help for everything and Billie had provided to the best of her capacity. She still did, thus why not far away from the bed there were her crutches, so it was an everyday kind of battle to get better. And they were getting through this together, which only made Billie feel how the love she had for the younger woman grew more and more everyday it passed. It had been hard watching her partner cry in silence when it hurt too much to handle, it had been hard every time Dara had apologized for being a ‘burden’, but at the same time it gave Billie a way to channel all the unsaid feelings she had for Dara, all those things she was so afraid to show.

Feeling that finally she was reciprocating everything Dara did for her made Billie feel on top of the world, even when she was exhausted.

I wonder what you are dreaming about, thought Billie, lips pressed softly to Dara’s forehead. Maybe of me…?

Billie wanted to giggle to herself because of that. In forty-one years that she had, she didn’t have many of those inner questions in her repertory, but being with the younger girl in her arms had put them in.

Lost in her thoughts, Billie didn’t really check the hour on her phone, so when the bedroom’s door opened it startled her. It made her move enough for Dara to finally move as well from her position, rolling in her back and head facing the side opposite to where Billie was.

“Mom is making pancakes,” Dayanara, Dara’s little sister, didn’t notice right away that her sister wasn’t awake but finding Billie looking at her directly was what made her lower her voice. “Do you want some or you’ll wake my…?”

“I’ll go, just let your sister rest,” Billie said while trying to figure out how to not wake Dara in the process of getting out of bed, taking in count she was on the side of the wall. “Ahm, can you give me a hand, please?”

Leaving Dara, all alone and cuddling where Billie had been lying, was hard though, but the promise of food had made her stomach grumble with hunger. Which was funny, because it was really difficult to feel hungry at Dara’s parents’ since they always cooked a lot and...

“How is she doing in therapy?” Dayanara’s voice brought Billie back and she blinked a bit. “I saw Ana is still using both crutches.”

“Well, she’s getting stronger after the complication with her left leg’s healing, that’s for sure...but the therapist thinks she will have to use a cane in the end.”

“That’s...what does Ana think about it?” Billie frowned a bit, looking at her sister-in-law while they were going downstairs. “I know she likes to be always active and...well, just moving and doing stuff.”

“She joked that she would become a very distinguised gentlewoman with a cane addition,” Dayanara rolled her eyes, knowing her sister’s antics. “But I think she’s still processing the whole thing. You should ask her directly Dayanara,” upon the suggestion, Dayanara’s face got a bit scared. “She doesn’t bite, she’ll probably appreciate some encouragement words from you.”

And Billie did mean that, from the bottom of her heart.

Dara was really close with her family, she loved her siblings and cousins dearly and Billie hadn't seen her more happy than after being able to talk with a family member. But Billie had noticed that, with the accident, those calls didn't come as much as usual...or maybe it was that she was spending more time around her partner and picking some things up. More time around as in engaging with her in-laws more than the bare minimum, because Billie felt a bit helpless the few times they spent time together along the years and had tried to put some space in between them.

Looking into it, both her and Dara were a bit off with each others' families but Billie was the one having it worse, mostly because they didn’t live near them.

"How many will you want?" Carla's voice - Dara's mom - was this time what cut the conversation and when she turned around her smile relaxed upon seeing Dayanara and Billie on the kitchen's door. "Is Ana okay?"

"Yeah, she's still asleep," Billie was fast to respond, taking the chair by Jeziel - Dara’s father - and waving a bit to Bruno - Dara’s grandfather -, who nodded at her before going back to his reading. “She had a few days of trouble sleeping, so I didn’t want to cut it.”

“Mejor que duerma, lo merece,” Bruno said without lifting his eyes from the newspaper, reminding Billie of her own father, sliding one of the coffee-filled mugs towards Billie. “Coffee.”

“Gimme three,” Jeziel said to his wife, big smile on - and Billie knew right away who Dara got hers from - and then turned to look at Billie. “Three is good for you?” Billie nodded while taking a good sip to her coffee. “Six this way, love!”

Billie thanked Jeziel in her head because, out of the two, he was the one trying his hardest to make a connection with her. She could feel Carla’s hesitation and doubts coming out from her in waves, like when they stayed at her apartment for the time Dara was in the hospital, and Dayanara’s doubts and distrust just flowing freely as well. The only exception, of those present in the table, was Bruno, because from the moment they met he treated her fairly and as close as he could show.

She didn’t want to think about Deirdre and Diana, Dara’s older sisters, because the headache was pretty much a reality. Both rubbed off the wrong way to her the second Billie met them and the feeling, as much as Dara had tried to put her at ease, didn’t fade. And Darziel, Dara’s little brother, was another thing completely. Billie was older than him for almost twenty years, the gap too big to make something out of it, but he was a sweet boy and always tried to engage with her the same, which also Billie thanked.

“Dónde está este chico, de verdad,” Carla said with an annoyed tone, serving everyone food, before raising her tone higher than she even heard her own mother raise it. “Darziel, can you come down already!”

“Cedric said it was okay for him to go later,” Jeziel said with his mouth full, getting a hard look from his wife. “Honey, seriously, your brother can fend for himself well. You two spent forty minutes arguing about this, let papi sleep more.”

Ah yeah, Billie almost forgot Dara’s uncle and Dahlia’s father, Cedric, which lived there as well. He was a quiet man, pretty similar to his daughter, and Billie was as cordial with him as he was with her. Really reserved and with a permanent sad aura, Billie didn’t want to ask Dara about why he was like that.

“Mom, stop stressing over, it’s too early,” Dayanara sighed loudly after drinking some juice. “And I’ll already have to hear a lot of screaming at the hospital later, can’t we have a calm morning for once?”

“Okay, sure,” Carla sighed as loud as her daughter, but exasperated instead of tired, and sat down by Billie’s side. “I bet your mornings at your parents’ weren’t this loud,” she tried to chuckle at it and Billie put a good chunk of pancake on her mouth to just not reply right away. “Or you talked back like this girl here?” and with that swatted at Dayanara’s thigh playfully but Billie knowing there was some scolding in too.

“Ahm, well, yeah,” Billie was pretty eloquent when she was talking to her in-laws, but it was because she wasn’t sure how to put it without sounding...wrong. “My father was always gone by the time we were up, my mom already busy with her things, so there wasn’t muc-”

Like a saving grace, a loud voice cut Billie’s reply and made everyone look at the door’s direction.

“¡Señora, señor, señoritas y abuelo!” Darziel’s voice was so loud it made Billie’s flinch a bit. “With a hundred sixty pounds, five ten tall and the might of a bear, I present you my tata, which made it all the way here without any help!”

To accompany that statement, the view upon them was clear. Dara, still clad in her old silly pajamas, was walking slow and a bit unsteady towards them. Billie’s heart stopped and her mind went blank, the only thing her body managed to do was to stand up. Darziel was behind her, with both crutches and being back-up support if needed, and Dara gave Billie a reassuring look.

A look that totally said I got this, I do, I can do it myself.

It was the most painful waiting Billie did today, going back to her chair but her eyes never leaving her partner, her hands itching to reach and help. And while those minutes passed, all the love and warmth she had been feeling since early morning came back to her along with pride.

Pride because someone that clearly was having a really hard time - Dara’s face a mix of concentration and discomfort but determination all over it - and was trying to overcome it, strong as ever, was by her side and she had the luck to call her ‘mine’.

I love you, I love you and I won’t ever stop loving you.

Billie let Dara sit on her lap after Jeziel had hugged her daughter big and the rest applauded Dara’s strength to do such a thing. Bruno reached for her granddaughter’s hand there and gave her comforting pats while Billie passed her arms around Dara’s middle. She wanted to do more, she wanted to kiss her as big as she deserved and pamper her in love, but in front of the rest Billie toned it down by just kissing her lover’s nape.

“Seriously Darziel, it wasn’t necessary all the circus,” Dara was ashamed and Billie knew it by the tone of her voice, and that doing all of that spent all her morning energies. “Can I…?”

“Serve yourself babe, my plate is yours,” Billie mumbled that because she knew Dara wouldn’t drink coffee.

“It was!” Darziel was still loud, maybe a bit drunk in her sister’s accomplishment, but finally sat in a stool in between his dad and Billie, giving his sister a glass of juice. “You did it for me once, I owed you!”

“You were eight, Darziel!”

“And only sprained my ankle! But you put a whole show to make me feel better.”

The banter kept going back and forth during all breakfast and Billie decided to just be a passive part of it, getting fed from time to time a forkful of pancakes and sipping on her coffee. It was good to have Dara talk more, to interact with those whom she loved, and it only showed her once again how warm her girl could be in spite of whatever she was feeling.

And while they were chattering after Darziel left and Dara occupied his stool, it made Billie realize that there was something else hanging on the room thanks to having Darziel’s overwhelming energy out of it. It was subtle but Billie managed to pick at it, there was this flare of...envy? and also distrust again floating, disturbed by a neutral force that seemed adamant to drown it.

She didn’t comment on it, not when Dara was now focusing on her completely and asking if she wanted to meet with Dilania and Demelza, her cousins that were the same age as her, in the afternoon.

And she decided to not really do it either in the future, giving Dara a couple sweet pecks on the lips to say yes, because she thought the other woman didn’t need that extra worry over everything she already had.

April, 2018.

She fucked up.

God fucking damn it, she totally fucked up so bad.

Billie wanted to scream on top of her lungs an incoherent stream of words or a full blown scream able to fit all her feelings. But all she did was to rest her forehead on the steering wheel and think again on what she was going to say. She had prepared an entire speech with all her feelings, with the apology and with things she didn’t think about before; and she was so afraid to fuck things up more, it was unbelievable.

Looking through the windscreen, she fixed her eyes on the red door of Dahlia’s house. She had driven two hours to get there, to Santa Barbara, because of all places Dara had chosen her closest family member to stay with.

In Billie’s mind she didn’t think Dara would actually do it, going away like that. Maybe it was because their discussions never went further than taking their time in different rooms, so that was what made the situation more scary.

It brought back to Billie a dark feeling she only managed to identify because last time she got it, her...girlfriend at that time left forever.

When Billie got out of her car, only the keys in her hand because she didn’t want any distraction, she couldn’t help but check herself out in the side mirror. Nothing in her was flashy or that it seemed she just got out of work, plain jeans and shirt and her hair pulled up in a ponytail. Raw, all Billie Dean and nothing more, because if she wanted to fix this she needed to be sincere with both.

Today was probably the day the world, her world, would go away...as dramatic as it sounds.

Knocking three times on the door, Billie felt out of breath and her unusual anxiety going up, making her place her hand - with keys and all - in her nape and press to relieve some, the cold from the metal being awkwardly soothing. She felt like she was going to throw up, not gonna lie here, and that for her was really hard to achieve.

But the second the door opened and the first thing she saw was her girlfriend, clad in pajamas and her flowery robe, Billie felt breathless.

Oh God, I fucked up big, big time.

Dara looked...devastated and, even then, she managed to keep her composure enough to look at her right in the eyes. Eyes that were clearly red from crying, Billie felt the weird static hit her like a wave to show her all the fear, the tiredness, a void of sadness that the other woman was feeling in that moment. Billie wanted to reach for her, hold her in her arms and hide her away from the pain...pain that she herself inflicted.

A move from behind Dara caught Billie’s attention and Shelby’s blonde head appeared in view.

“I’m…” Billie needed to start talking, because Dara didn’t seem to want to do it. “Can we take...a walk? I want to talk with you.”

“Why?” Dara was direct like that, not moving much from her position aside from giving Shelby a gesture, telling her that she was okay without breaking eye contact with Billie. “Do you have something else to tell me that you didn’t two days ago?”

“Yeah, I do,” it wasn’t time for Billie to get stubborn or start to get annoyed because of the little jab in Dara’s tone. “I want to fix this Dara, and I need you to listen to me in order to do it.”

Billie knew that calling her ‘Annie’ right now wasn’t the ideal, because she knew what it did to Dara inside. Using her first name and, overall, be respectful of her limits, of whatever space she needed, was the right path to follow in this crusade she was leading. Dara took a deep breath and stepped back - giving Billie a heart-attack in the process -, just to put her trainers on.

“I don’t know what you will say,” Dara closed the door behind her and started to walk. “But it won’t hurt to listen.”

After fifteen minutes of walking, Billie finally decided to push through the empty feeling those words left in her. Dara didn’t seem to want to look at her, always keeping a bit of distance even when they were walking side by side, and it was making it hard to even take the step and talk.

“I...I’m sorry,” Dara hummed at that and Billie squeezed her own fingers nervously. “I truly am, I shouldn’t have said those things to you,” her throat felt tight and she couldn’t look at Dara while she was talking because she was afraid of being left speechless as well. “I should have listened to what were you trying to tell me, understand your position better instead of getting mad at you-”

“What did you need to understand when I’ve been telling you the same for years?” Dara cut her speech and it gave her a new rush of panic. “That only makes me wonder if you ever listened to me at all.”

“I do, babe, I do,” Billie heard the panic in her own voice. “It’s just that...I was so...I don’t want you to be unhappy or to worry about anything, I thought that it would be a good solution since you’ve been worried and anxious all these months and-”

“Billie, I’m not unhappy with my job! I worked my ass off for three years to be able to have a decent salary, to not have problems with hours so I can be home at a decent hour,” Dara’s voice had a tired tone in it. “I’m not anxious or worried because of work, it’s because I don’t know what to do with my life or what fucking part I play in yours anymore!”

And yeah, Billie’s rehearsed speech died just like that.

Dara walked a bit ahead of hers and Billie just watched her stop, paralyzed in the middle of the sidewalk. Her back facing her and building a wall between them, Dara hit the pavement with her cane two times and covered her mouth with her free hand.

“What are you...Dara,” Billie felt her system restart right away, her heart dropping with a painful beat to her stomach. “Part in my life? You are my-”

“Your what, Billie? Partner?” Dara mocked that word, clearly done at this point with it. “We have an anniversary because we just took the day of Tina’s wedding as such,” when she turned around to look at Billie, Dara was crying. “Your family thinks I’m a gold digger or whatever, that I’m with you because of your money when, in reality, I’m always the one worrying about it. My family...no, my own sisters think that I’m your fucking toy and you’re about to toss me aside,” Dara raised a finger. “I heard them and I cut my immediate family to the minimum until they fucking respect my choices, but I can’t do that with yours,” she tried to clean her tears and Billie’s chest got tighter. “You are the best at not noticing, ignore, the elephant in the room Billie, but I’m not and it’s hurting me too much at this point.”

“I thought you were...why didn’t you tell me?”

“When, Billie? When do I tell you?” Dara threw her arms to the air. “When you come home from filming for a few days and go away a few more later? When you’re not busy going everywhere instead of staying with me for a bit? When everything else in your life, your head, is more important than fixing our relationship?” Dara’s soft features were full of sorrow and the tears that she couldn’t stop. “Two days it took you to come here and talk to me, two days, Billie.” Dara whispered. “Everytime we got the slightest disagreement in the past, it was me reaching out to you to fix it, speaking up, sucking my opinion up in order to keep things going.”

Having all those things on display made Billie’s heart shattered the same way Dara’s did two days ago in the apartment, when Billie didn’t stop her from leaving. Everything was moving too fast for her, but she knew that it really wasn’t the case because everything had been building up from a long time ago.

It made her see that she should’ve been and done better.

“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you Billie,” Dara’s voice was a bit higher and she closed her eyes for a second. “And I always tell you because I don’t want you to forget it, and I always tell myself that one day you’ll tell me you love me back. Like, genuinely tell me those exact words and feel them mine,” she curled her hands into fists, holding on her cane. “But all that I think about, at this point, is why you keep bei-”

“Because I do as well!” Billie said that really loud, as if it was the right way to do it and let Dara know it finally. “I do, I do, I fucking do and will always do,” her voice went normal again. “You know I’m an absolute disaster, it’s not an excuse, I suck at being in a relationship but I want to do better for you, do better and be better...and it’s so hard?” Billie got closer to Dara but still didn’t dare to touch her. “You’re my third really serious relationship and the longest I had...and I still don’t know what I did to keep you by my side,” Billie felt herself tear up really fast, faster than she did while driving here. “You made me think of things I wasn’t thinking that much, of what if’s, and...and then you had the accident and-God, Annie, thinking about losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me,” it slipped and not only made Dara cry harder but also made Billie start to cry as well. “You’re the constant that never fails in my life and I want to be that for you too...but I don’t know how,” Billie looked at her hands, blurred by her tears. “And it’s hard, really hard...I don’t know how you do it.”

“I don’t know either,” Dara said, voice affected by this at this point, trembling hands over her cane. “I’m just there, waiting, like I did my whole life,” Billie looked at her and Dara was looking down. “Things are hard, life is hard Billie, what else can I tell you? You’ve been here longer than me,” a little sad chuckle that made Billie shiver. “But I thought my love could handle everything, like always, and now I see that it didn’t...and I apologize too, because I should’ve made things easier for you as we-”

“No,” Billie finally touched Dara, holding her by her arms with a firm grip that managed to make the younger woman look at her. “I shouldn’t have let you do this alone,” she relaxed her hands over Dara’s biceps and lowered them to her forearms. “Maybe both have our share of blame in everything but it’s clearly me more than you,” a new wave of tears hit Billie. “And I want to fix this, I want to learn even when it’s hard...but I need…” Billie wasn’t one to ask for it and that’s why she struggled with that part in her initial speech. “I need...help. I think together we can make it,” Billie tried to smile even in tears. “I don’t want to lose you, because I...Annie, Dara, I love you. I don’t want to love anyone else but you and only you, so please...let me fight for this, for us, please...”

Being in the arms of your most loved one was a sensation Billie discovered she both loved and needed. Her voice broke in that last please, which was what made Dara to close the distance in between them once and for all, her arms around Billie to shield her from everything.

They were lucky Dahlia lived in a rather calm area by the beach, because making a whole scene there in the open wasn’t a thing they both liked much, being honest. Their discussions were always in a normal tone, maybe getting a bit louder when one was making a point, but this one was a whole different mess.

Dara managed to move both to a bench nearby and after sitting for a few minutes in silence, Billie holding onto Dara’s hand like her life depended on it, one of them finally said something.

“I’ve been thinking for two days straight how to let go of you,” Dara’s voice was a hurt whisper and Billie tightened the hold in her hand a bit. “I thought ‘this is an ultimatum, take it or leave it’ and I was preparing myself for the latter, I was mourning,” she chuckled a bit again. “And now…” she sighed and put her other hand over their holding hands so she could caress Billie’s reverse of the hand better. “What should we do, sugar…?”

“Try…?” Billie asked that and fixed her eyes in their hands, using her free one to rub her tired eyes.

“If we try, how do I know we won’t spend another eight years like this?” Dara looked forward and Billie couldn’t help but close her eyes tight, trying to not start crying again. “I’m being serious here Billie, I need to see a change. I can help you, I can change myself, I can do whatever is needed, but if I’m the only one again on it…”

“I understand, I know,” Billie nodded, feeling her opportunity about to slip through her fingers. “I promise I’ll do everything to show you this...us staying together is worthy.”

In that moment, Billie managed to finally look at Dara and it was completely different, as if she was looking at her for the first time in forever. She was wiping her tears with her sleeve, trying to calm her breathing at the same time, and almost shyly the sweet static that she always felt by just being near her girlfriend started to feel about all over her skin.

Why was Dara pretty even when she was crying?

But she said ‘okay’ in half voice after a few minutes of silent delivery and that sent Billie into crying harder again, which made her girlfriend hug her again to calm her down.

“You said it,” another tiny whisper not because she was shy, but because Dara was trying hard to calm herself, and then she bumped their shoulders together carefully after they went to hold hands again. “How did it feel, honey?”

It started as a giggle and then both were laughing tiredly, not letting go of their intertwined hands. Billie felt renewed, the sadness and the anxiety starting to slow down and the late afternoon sun making Dara glow again with what she almost lost.

She didn’t think her first genuine ‘I love you’ would show up in such a disastrous situation.

“Pretty great, actually,” she confessed with a smile only Dara and her spontaneous side could put on easily, looking first at her eyes and then at her lips. “Can I kiss you…?”

It would take a little while longer for Billie to get used to it, to trying to convey what she was feeling fully so both could work it out together, but in that moment everything felt as if the raging storm was finally calming down. As if everything would be totally fine as long as they were like that, together and never apart. They didn’t know, sitting side by side on that bench in Santa Barbara, that some more big challenges were ahead of their path.

“Jesus Christ, I thought you would never ask,” Dara sighed, the biggest smile on a second later, and then her fingers found their right place in Billie’s cheek. “Come here, I've missed you.”

But in the moment their lips touched...well, Billie didn’t fucking care what was about to come, she only cared about holding her girl and showed her how much she missed and loved her.

Epilogue. November, 2020.

Billie couldn’t help but smile at the marvelous view she had.

She was just fresh out of the shower, short pajamas on and barely spreading cream in her hands because she felt them a bit dry after the whole day at the beach, and she felt as if it was the first time she managed to rest after ten years. Too many things had happened along the years, but looking back at them, well, it made Billie put things in perspective.

It made her a better woman...or at least that’s what she wanted to believe.

The smile on her lips was hard to drop, even when she still had some nightmares almost every night since the incident at the Cortez, and seeing Dara sprawled in the middle of the bed only made it more difficult. Panties and an old pajama shirt, Billie’s, was the only thing on her and she was enjoying the fresh air that was coming from the open window. Rainy night after a couple days of nice weather was appreciated, actually.

They deserved this vacation, Billie wasn’t joking at all when she said she wanted to escape for a few days to Hawaii and just forget about everything at home, only the two of them enjoying each other.

It took her two weeks to plan everything and there they were.

Everything that also involved what was she hiding in one of the drawers of the nightstand.

Walking towards the bed, she didn’t want to interrupt the calm moment, so Billie just kept observing how pretty Dara was just like that. Natural and beautiful her, all the freckles, the tattoos, her scars. Dara only reacted to Billie’s presence when she climbed on the bed and went for a kiss first, slowly hovering over her and finally placing herself in between Dara’s legs.

“Hello,” Billie whispered with a soft laugh, feeling Dara react by placing her hands on Billie’s waist and pulled her closer, trapping her with her legs. “How’s my love doing?” she placed another soft kiss on her lips and then down her neck. “Did you miss me?”

“Terribly, I needed my hourly dose of you already,” Dara chuckled at that, closing her eyes and mewling ever so soft due to the attention given to her. “I was getting a bit sleepy, actually,” Billie felt her belly get warmer as her girlfriend caressed there with her fingers, which made Billie finally rest her body over Dara’s. “But staying awake is much better, yeap.”

“You swam too much today, I’m impressed you didn’t doze off the second you touched the bed,” Billie placed her arms better in each side of Dara’s head so they could be at the same level, kissing the tip of her nose. “But how so is that staying awake is much better, hmm?”

“Hello?” Dara raised an eyebrow and looked down, stating the obvious just like that. “I’m not missing any bit of you, miss Howard.”

Miss Howard.

It made Billie smile wider because of her plan, which she didn’t know how to start getting ahead of. She decided that it was best to keep kissing and making out lazily in bed, taking their time because they were in no rush.

Eventually, they ended up rolling and changing positions and Billie couldn’t wish for better, mostly because Dara was straddling her and really focused on marking her neck in her favourite spot, which was making Billie feel many different things that weren’t calm at all. In the past, this make-out session wouldn’t have lasted long, but with time she learnt to just lay back and enjoy.

“Marking what is yours, babe?” it was Billie’s time to chuckle when Dara finally withdrew enough and traced with her finger Billie’s neck. “Because I think you already made a point last night.”

“Hmm not clear enough,” Dara said, giving her a peck on the lips and then cuddling in Billie’s chest, making Billie wrap her arms around her and give her a kiss on the crown of the head. “I think we’ll traumatize Audrey once and for all, your ass is my masterpiece.”

“Well, my ass, my thighs and my neck,” Billie laughed and patted Dara’s ass a bit, another cuddle. “But yeah, I also thought that, I literally got carried away with your tits,” they both laughed at that.

“My stomach honey, where do my real tattoos even start?” Dara closed her eyes and Billie thought it was the moment to reach for the drawer, which was easy since they weren’t in the middle of the bed. “And to think that you weren’t big on this when we met, look at you now.”

“Well, you really made me rethink that,” Billie shrugged and pecked Dara when she moved her head to rest her chin over her chest, looking directly at her and making Billie to swiftly hide the...gift under the pillow. “Also, we still have like...three more days here.”

“Challenge accepted.”

That sent them both into a fit of giggles because they knew they would make the most out of these calm days. They’ve not only kept up with each other but with things they had pending, like the list of films they’ve been wanting to watch or shows; talking about stupid stuff was also on their list and their phones...well, that was almost forbidden - the decision coming from both.

Billie felt free for once and it was the best.

“Hmm, Annie?” Dara hummed, with her eyes closed again, waiting for whatever Billie was about to say. “I’ve been thinking these days about a couple of things,” Dara frowned a bit and spied in between her eyelashes how Billie was looking at the ceiling, biting her lower lip. “We’ve been through a lot of things in the time we have been together, many of them scary and weird and others simply were just nuts,” Dara’s chuckle rumbled deep in her chest, enough to make Billie feel it. “We talked about serious stuff, like when I asked you about...us having kids or when we were close to breaking up,” that earned Billie a kiss in the base of her neck. “And, well, all of that made me ask myself what was the next step for us...I mean, we have an apartment and a house, as haunted that is at the moment; and things are going...I won’t say great, but they’re going really well with our families,” now Dara was a bit more awake, a strange feeling swirling in her gut, a mix of fear and worry, that Billie noticed right away - being together more time meant they were even more connected through their powers. “I think the next step for us would be more like...double step, and there’s where it comes the second thing I’ve been thinking about.”

Dara moved to sit, minding her own weight to not harm Billie in any way, and Billie followed, so that way Dara was sitting on her lap and they were face to face just like that. Her hand moved under the pillow and Billie felt on fire, a pleasing fire, when her fingers felt the velvety box. Upon seeing it Dara’s eyes opened wide, watering, and both of her hands flew to cover her mouth, the tiny gasp she made both making Billie’s heartbeat go faster and her stomach explode in butterflies.

“I’ve never asked you properly to be my...girlfriend, it just happened,” it hurt Billie a bit saying that and Dara blinked faster to not let her tears ruin the moment. “Now it’s one of those things I regret the most, that’s why I wanted this to be as perfect as possible.” Billie took with both hands the red velvet box to show Dara the promise ring, her and only hers, tiny rubies over gold. “I know I can grow even more by your side because you make me want to be better, do better, and I love you in a way that none can even imagine, not even myself,” she chuckled at that and made Dara give a tiny moan. “That’s why...well, Dara Ann Lynch, Dara, my Annie...would you want to skip the girlfriend part to just entirely be my wife?”

For a second Billie panicked, because Dara had closed her eyes and started to cry, but then she finally reacted and Billie couldn’t help but let go a bit of that panic in a tiny yelp when her girl tackled them to bed again, all before being kissed on the lips big and deep.

“Yes,” Dara managed to say in between more kisses and getting air in her lungs to keep giving those. “Yes, please, yes,” Billie felt herself tear up but laughed instead, when Dara let go from a kiss.

“Okay, okay, just...Annie!” Billie giggled because Dara started to kiss her all over the face and only calling out her name was what made Dara to stop for a moment. “Give me your hand, please,” Dara sat up a bit and, still on her back, Billie pulled out the ring from the box to place it on Dara’s ring finger and sealed the deal with a kiss over it. “There you go, my love,” Billie felt her chest puff with pride when Dara stared at her own finger. “My fiance.” the words hung in between them so peacefully. “Lucky me you said yes, imagine you said no...oh God.”

“Why would I ever say no, silly?” Billie chuckled her anxiety away when Dara swatted her shoulder lightly. “Josephine and Roseanne are finally going to poison me...or choke me to death,” Dara laughed while trying to wipe her tears. “This means I finally have to kill you to get all your money, remember.”

“Only accepting murder by sex, thank you very much missy, have a nice night,” Billie joked and made both laugh again, because it was a recurring joke at this point between them. “Your sisters are going to have a heart attack as well.”

“Oh, I was counting on it, our sisters hand to hand to us doing whatever equals to that,” Darar rolled her eyes and then kissed Billie again. “So this was your plan all along, honey? Bringing me here and asking me to marry you with a tiny lie of vacation?”

“There was no lie, we did need the vacation, but the proposing part was omitted in order to achieve the surprise effect,” Billie embraced her fiance, hands starting to wander to better places when Dara started to be more intense in her affections. “Which I think I got just right.”

“More than right, you got it just perfect.”

With that, Billie felt the whole scene close, sealing it nicely and wrapping it on the best gift paper possible. Whatever it came, they would get through it, Billie knew that for sure - or at least that was the most her brain let her think in the moment, too busy undressing Dara from the two pieces of clothing she had. Every kiss over her skin, the light tugs and fingers pressing just right reminded her that she will spend the rest of her life like this.

And she was so fucking up for it.

However, there was a twist on their story that neither of them took in count.

Billie was, again, busying herself adding more length to the hickey on Dara’s chest when her girl finally said something more coherent.

“Let’s marry right after we land, I don’t want to wait,” Dara was breathless, mostly because Billie had moved her mouth over her left nipple. “Just us, only for us.”

“Witness?” Billie managed to say, after letting go with a soft ‘plop’. “Papers?”

“We do it later, my laptop,” Dara cradled Billie’s face with both hands and pulled her closer to kiss her on the lips. “Audrey, Jordan, Wendy, pick one.”

“Audrey, let’s do Audrey,” Billie groaned and it sent them both into another place. “Rings?”

“Tomorrow,” they both nodded before going for another kiss. “Honeymoon?”

“We are on it babe, but we’ll take another one later.”

Outside of it, everything was an absolute mess, even Audrey was confused - oblivious of what was going on - when she got a message after days from Billie telling her to be formally dressed at her apartment the same day they arrived from their vacation, but complied the same. They didn’t think about how Christmas would be the day the rest will officially know, not even the absolute chaos related to it because many things were about to happen that year around those dates.

But there, in that hotel room, everything just made sense.

Because as long Dara was by her side, Billie knew everything was going to be alright.

#billie dean howard x original character #dara ann lynch #billie dean howard #american horror story #the originals

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dropsofletters · 4 years

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love in a major key

title: love in a major key pairing: xiao dejun/reader genre: guitarist!au/tutor!au/first love!au summary: looking at him is a paradigm. his fingers constantly pluck at the strings in the guitar, one of his small smiles enough to create music in her heart. the caress of his calloused fingertips is a dream, one that she refrains from, until he actually believes in her talent. a guitar lover like dejun knows better than to teach the art of music to a tone deaf individual, but there is no way he can stop himself after stealing a glance at those dulcet eyes. type: fluff/romance word count: 11,569 ⚠️ disclaimer: this is part of the love diaries, my valentine’s day project with wayv, if you want to read the rest of the members’ stories, you can click here and find the masterlist for it.

The dull thud of a man’s fingertips against the wood of a desk create insufferable patterns in her head. It goes along with his voice: one, two, three, four—and it starts again, repetitive with the chords that she tries to play. Her fingers ache, fingertips going numb at the pressure she puts on the fingerboard. The sound of her favorite song becomes background noise, a reminder of the nights she spent practicing it just for this moment. Sweat pools at the back of her neck, the junction between her thumb and index finger growing painfully noticeable, and she still has to listen to the thudding.

One.

Two.

Three.

“You’re missing the tempo,” When she looks up from her guitar, her eyes briefly settle on her guitar teacher. Chubby cheeks tightened in a disappointed half-smile, tapping his fingers ever harsher against the desk. She tries to nod along to the beat, get lost in the amount of sounds surrounding the room. The accompanying guitar, way more perfect in technique than she will ever be, the sound of someone laughing in the near distance and then, even more tapping. At this point, she feels like her guitar teacher is digging straight through her skull with that noise. “And you lost it.”

Four.

The guitar weights on her hands, burning her skin with its mere touch, a reminder of the happiness she felt when it was gifted to her for her birthday, and now it simply reminds her of how incapable she is of connecting to music. By the time she puts the guitar to the side, sighing deeply at her own attempt of doing her favorite song justice, she feels like she is one step closer to giving up. When she’s young, the praise she would get for being a quick learner had, perhaps, engraved in her brain that the only way of being good at something is excelling at it from the very beginning. Guitar lessons are not the case of such success for her, as it seems.

On the other hand, there are people like the man that sits by her side, legs parted comfortably with the guitar on his lap. One with musical notes, watched by him like flares in the air, naturally painting the room with the simple caress of his fingertips against the freeboard. The guitar and Dejun became friends earlier in his life, she thinks she has heard from her guitar teacher, and she can’t imagine him any other way. This is his world, musical and deep, intelligent in its own way; not hers.

His eyes are daggers, crafted with fire and stone, brown with a wooden grip, enough to pierce through anyone’s soul. Soft are not the rest of his features, jaw sharp with his usual stoic expression, tight when he is exceptionally concentrated; she would get surprised if she ever sees him without a frown, if talking to him ever sounded less scary. Deep within her, her mind acknowledges that one of the few reasons why she keeps going to guitar lessons has the name and shape of Xiao Dejun. His gifted fingers drawing perfect patterns to create a melodic tune, a reminder of whom she could be if she tried hard enough, but also music to her stressed mindset whenever she is surrounded by that insufferable guitar teacher of hers.

And, there is also the fact that Dejun is outrageously cute, brown hair parted in the middle, denim jacket already a part of him, lips so soft she’d find herself looking at them, if only she didn’t have to look down at what she is doing with her guitar.

“Shit, you almost had it!” It would be more believable if only her guitar teacher was not looking down at his phone, scrolling through god-knows-what as he speaks to her. Ji, as he likes to call himself, is one of the most well-known guitar players around the country; so much so that it is impressive that he is even giving guitar lessons, for the amount of parties he ends up getting invited to for the sake of playing a potpourri of songs is impressive. Something about him is arrogant, tipping on the edge of annoyance, a perfectionist with judgement carved in his name. “...But that ear of yours is not going to help you play the guitar, darling. You need to listen. Practice a lot more, you’re not practicing.”

Maybe, she should listen to her heart when it tells her that this is not for her, that the music world is nice to look at from afar—glamorous, shining, even merging with excitement and attractiveness, but it is not for her. She lowers her head, merely nodding instead of complaining that she does practice, the strings of her guitar creating shadows on her fingers, calloused beyond reparation even when she buys as many hand-creams as she can. Music is pain, she had read somewhere once, but it never had to be this painful, tearing at the pride she used to have, at the dream that would have her smiling when she first touched her guitar—

“Hey,” The sound of a plastic chair dragging obnoxiously against the floor could have never done enough to take away the beauty in Dejun’s voice. He rarely talks to her, if she is being sincere, much too preoccupied in attending his guitar lessons to practice and in his music major to ever pay attention to any of the other, less knowledgeable students, but there have been certain occasions where they just had to talk to each other. Greetings, brief conversation starters about their love for music, and times in which they have to wait for Ji to arrive and it leaves them in awkward silence that needs to be filled. “You did great.” Dejun pulls the hood of his sweater down, still wearing that thick denim jacket. The heat is unbearable for her, but Dejun seems to give up in the name of fashion.

Instead, she rolls her eyes, leaning back on the uncomfortable plastic chair. “Yeah, right.”

“I mean it.” Dejun pushes, looking around the room to see that Ji is working on another student. A heavy metal enthusiast that thinks highly of herself for ‘having different tastes in music’. Music is more of a division, a war in between who is better and who is worse.

“Don’t even try,” Though, in any other occasion, she would have thanked him with a smile, but she’s not feeling it, much more when she has to speak over the music. “Even Ji’s help is worthless with me. I’m as tone deaf as a tone deaf person can get.” The term had come to light for her in the very first few months of her guitar lessons, a year before that. Ji had said so with a sigh, implying that there was nothing else they could do, but she kept going. Now, she is starting to regret it. “But thanks.”

Dejun rests his arms around his guitar, his lover for his loneliest moments. “Hey, you’ve come a long way. Your position in the chords is amazing, and your C major is executed perfectly.”

“That’s easy, though.” She complains, not wanting to give herself hope of getting better. Success is immediate, she had led herself to believe.

A smile quirks up on his features, too dulcet to be his. Dejun is one of those people that takes himself too seriously, she discovered during the first month she shared with him, and it exudes in his personality. Some people call it haughtiness, but she believes Dejun knows better than to be silly. “What you just said shows growth. If something becomes easy for you after it was hard, it means you’ve improved.” The words are heavy, much too knowledgeable and optimistic for her broken mind. Not to be misunderstood, Dejun is the farthest opposite of a light of sunshine at a first glance, but the caring side of him peaks through all the cold demeanor.

“...I guess.” She shrugs, biting on the inside of her cheek out of nervousness. Dejun is close, and he seems not to be bothered by it, but the room is much hotter now that he is nearer. “Still doesn’t help me with being tone-deaf.”

“That’s something you can improve.”

“Dejun, it’s been more than a year. I think I can’t—”

“We have to give it a different approach, maybe. The technique you’re using for learning may not be the best for you.” One would not think that Dejun is the optimistic kind, that his kindness bleeds through his words whenever he wants them to. He’s a paradigm, eyes too deep to find a grounding moment in them, for the world is tremendously filled with opportunities, reflected in his irises. “I could help you with the rhythm and tempo, if you want.” He adds. “I can tell you Ji is not the most patient of people...or the sweetest...or tactful with his words, but you don’t have to let him get to you.” It must have been noticeable through her gaze, the hatred she feels for Ji for ruining something for her. Music, her favorite songs, the enjoyment of being free through tunes and tones. Or maybe, Dejun just looks at her expressions closely. “I believe in you.”

She raises her eyebrows at that, scoffing in a way to push her nervousness away. “Dejun, that’s so sweet, but I think I’m a lost case.”

The man straightens his back, practicing an arpeggio on his guitar as he speaks. “Give me your saturday mornings and I’ll turn you into a guitarist.”

She chuckles at his words, shaking her head before picking up her phone. “If you think you can do it...sure.”

The truth falls on the fact that she doesn’t think Dejun will be able to change much.

🎸

Busy bodies bumping against one another go unnoticed in the morning, for they are nonexistent. In the far distance, the sound of doors sliding open catch her attention, too faint to be from any customer. Her feet glide skillfully against the squeaky clean flooring, holding her gig bag up on her shoulder. Any type of horror soundtrack could pretty much be in the background, and it would fit, given that Dejun thought it would have been a nice idea to organize his schedule to have their classes at eight in the morning on a Saturday. Two weeks ago it sounded like an excellent idea; right now, she is looking for the emergency exits just in case a headless murderer tries to turn this into the next Oscar winning horror film.

Step after step leads her down the stairs, holding her phone up to her face just to write a text to Dejun. The action makes her anxious, thinking that Dejun is probably too busy working or opening the shop to even care, but by the time she sends it, she hears the sound of a phone going off in the near distance.

Surely, the mall is kind of empty, but it’s not empty enough to have her listening to the ringtone of Dejun’s phone inside the guitar shop.

What she has learned about Dejun is that his eyes, tired or not, are his most powerful feature. Those and his strong eyebrows are enough to battle the concept of perfection. For that early morning, he is wearing a black hoodie—it needs to be ironed, and Dejun should probably show the top of his head a bit more, proud of his messy straight locks, but that is what makes him...him. Dejun likes layers after layers, a trait that radiates on his personality.

Layers after layers of him that no one really gets to take off, because Dejun knows better. People are thirsty for power, and it shows through their relationships. The concept of naturally built friendships and relationships is forgotten, or will be in the next few years.

“Were you waiting for me?”

A tint of pink rushes to Dejun’s cheeks, patchy on his skin and the blame is probably on the hoodie he is wearing, but she likes to believe it is embarrassment. Shyness, even. “I—I guess,” Dejun says seriously, cleaning his throat soon after. “I have been waiting for a bit.”

“Sorry,” She chuckles, pointing around the empty mall with her index finger. “I got too distracted with this vibe of me being in a horror film.”

Dejun’s eyes wrinkle with the weight of his smile, drawing lines on the edge of his eyes, softening the scowl of his eyebrows. She would be lying if she said she had not watched Dejun from far away before, in hopes that the man she has known for more than a year finally does something to establish a connection in between the two. It never happened, until now, but she is convinced Dejun is just trying to be nice. “Sorry to disappoint, the mall is not haunted.” He adds. “But it is scary—”

If she had been looking at Dejun for a second longer, she would have completely missed the sight of one of her classmates. The idea of an awkward conversation leading to possible silence is already not a thrilling idea, but this is Mei she is seeing. Mei, the same girl that looks over everyone’s shoulders while completing a test; the same woman that never does her homework but still manages to pass her classes; the one girl that stole her lunch when she left her backpack alone for a miniscule second.

Mei is a nightmare.

Without thinking straight, she grabs Dejun by the collar of his hoodie, pulling their bodies towards the nearest spot to hide in. It so happens that a hallway is by their side, leading to one of the many bathrooms in the spacious mall. Dejun serves her as a wall, protection at its finest when he stands in front of her, making sure to hold her breath so Mei won’t even be able to perceive her.

“What—?”

“Shh.” She shushes him, looking up at him to share a glance with the man. Instead of giving him an explanation just now, she mouths ‘just a second’ before standing on her tiptoes, trying to see if Mei is gone. Much to her delight, Mei is long gone and away from her sight—and her lunch—. However, once she stands back on the heels of his feet, she is welcomed by the closeness in between the two and the look of absolute confusion that masks Dejun’s face. Her hands are gripping too tightly, to the point their chests are pressed together, breathing controlled by what the other does. “Sorry, I saw a girl from my semester that I really don’t like.”

“You were hiding from someone?” Dejun questions, looking down at her palms just to see her spreading them to let go of him. The man sighs, a brief smile appearing on his face. “You’re not as good as I imagined, then.”

“I am good,” She argues, following after Dejun to go to the guitar shop—not without looking around to see if Mei really is gone—. “Just selective on who I am good to.”

The young man seems surprised by her words, the grin on his face practically plastered on him. “You’re far too good to Ji.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, I would have snapped so long ago.” With the way he says it, it falls upon her that Ji is the most selective of all. What he looks for is perfection, and in his eyes, she is far from that. Nonetheless, she tries to concentrate on Dejun, because seeing him pissed is probably not a rare occurrence. Eyebrows made to be in a frown, eyes soft yet enigmatic. “But that’s your charm, I guess. I’ve known you for a year and I’ve seen just how patient you are. That’s a nice trait to have.”

Whilst he pushes the glass doors of the guitar shop open, she scoffs rather loudly. In such a small place, she gets to see a wide variety of drums and guitars, even bass guitars of all shapes and colors. Gibson. Fender. Yamaha. All beautiful to look at, but difficult to touch. “You think I’m patient?” Dejun closes the door behind them, sending a wave to one of his coworkers before opening yet another door for her. Somewhere in there, she swears she sees a set of drums signed by Ringo Starr.

“You have to be.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Being tone-deaf is difficult, and you have improved so much. That is either because you work hard, or because you have the patience to sit down and practice.” He doesn’t realize that is a compliment to her, his back turned to the woman when he introduces her to the ‘classroom’ in which they were going to practice, when it reality it looks like a storage room. If Dejun wants to live his rockstar fantasy, she’ll let him be. “Welcome to my classroom, by the way. You’re my first student that is not a kid, or my relative, or annoying.”

Resting her gig bag in front of her body, she inspects the room. Far too small, to the point she smells Dejun’s deodorant and cologne, Good, old, classy, a little bit musky as well. Her eyes settle on the written words in a whiteboard, what seems to be a set of chords, and his collection of boost pedals. In the middle of the room, there is his infamous Gibson, his lover, one with him until the day of his death. “Thank you so much for offering to tutor me, too.” She starts. “I appreciate it.”

Dejun’s eyes gleam with something when he looks at her, mischief mixed with thankfulness, lingering with that relaxed vibe he gives. “What makes you think I’ll be a good teacher?”

“You’re going to be a thousand times better than Ji, I can tell you that much.”

“True.”

The man takes the gig bag from her hands, unzipping it open before taking her guitar out. His fingers caress the fabric of her guitar strap, passing it over her head, her shoulders until it rested sideways on her. The look of absolute pride on his eyes is different, even enough to make her feel shy when she holds on to her guitar, watching as he nods his head softly.

“Ready to turn into Hendrix?”

Once again, Dejun has so much confidence that it brings a huff up her lungs, out of her mouth. “If you can do that, I’ll be so thankful—”

“Trust me,” He says. “I can do that and so much more.”

And it is all a matter of faith.

🎸

If Dejun was ever to be described as a crafted creation, he would have to come with two things: his jackets and his notebook, too close to his being to ever be away from him.

Five weeks after the start of her classes with him and she has yet to see him without the infamous, torn at the edges, beige notebook. This time around, with the heat of summer clinging to their skins, she is far more concentrated on the complexity of Xiao Dejun. His legs lock behind him whilst his weight leans against the small desk in the storage room—or classroom, in his words—, His hair is pushed back by the hand that rests on his forehead, fingers splayed on the back of his phone when he presses it to his ear, ordering breakfast for the two hungry people in the room. He holds himself with such elegance, such poise that he hypnotizes her, weighting the possibilities of ever seeing the raw, sensitive side of Dejun. The one that hides behind music in hopes of outlining his difficulties with lyrics and rhymes.

Flirting a complexity, and though she wants to do such thing with Dejun in hopes of getting a blush from him and a date to look forward to, the only thing that ever flirts with her is the notebook he keeps twisting in between his fingertips. He writes in it, for the strokes he gives with his pencil are far too precise to be a picture or a drawing, but the contents are unknown to her. The notebook mocks her, because there are a hundred notebooks that look exactly the same, but none of them belong to Xiao Dejun, the same man that she has wanted to flirt with for the past year and she has never been able to thanks to the fear of rejection.

“Mhm, a croissant special. What are inside those croissants?”She should not peek inside the notebook, perfectly placed away from Dejun’s hands, but the curiousness is there. Dust in the tip of his eyelashes, coating her with the need of getting to know more about him. He may talk about subjects such as music, friendships and family life with her, but she wants to get to know the alive side of Xiao Dejun. The part where he talks about his love for the people surrounding him, the hate he has for his past friendships, what he dreams about and the goals he pushed away in the past.

Is that too much to ask? For him to show her a layer of him, when he has already seen her with every expression? Delighted, when he compliments her. Saddened, when Ji tells her that she can do better. Angered, when she doesn’t get a song on the first go. Happy, when she recognizes the chords in a song just from one listen. The smile on her face is everlasting with him, but it is as though she falls deeper into the ocean beneath his eyes. Not because of water, but because of their depth.

So the irrational part of her wins, bites at her curiosity and traces her skin along the expanse of the notebook. Dejun has written his name in the front, neat and small in one of the corners, and she runs the tip of her fingers over it. It looks old, as if Dejun has grown inside that book, from a kid to a young man. When she lets her fingers wrap on the edge of the notebook to open it, the swooshing sound that reaches her ear is almost surprising, looking up to be met by Dejun’s frown when he looks at her.

“Don’t do that!” He whines, but the moment he tries to reach her, his feet collide one against the other, almost making him slip, a yelp leaving his lips instead. “A—Ah, yes, I think that will be fine.” He speaks on the phone, cheeks tinting crimson thanks to his reactions. His fingers are wrapped around her wrist, half of his body leaning on the desk while he speaks on the phone. “How long until it is ready?” A pause. “Ten minutes? Alright, I’ll be there.” When he hangs up on the caller, both his hands wrap around her wrists, bringing them up chest-level. “You’re a sneaky one, aren’t you?” A short laugh leaves his lips, because he is definitely in an uncomfortable position and also because of the irony of the situation.

“I just wanted to see your notebook.”

“And that’s exactly what I don’t want you to do.”

She bawls her hands in fists, pushing her body off the desk and bringing Dejun with her. He stands in front of her, eyes filled with embarrassment and worry. Shyness is something she wanted to get out of him, but this is not the version she expected. “Why? You’re always writing stuff there. I thought it was just your songwriting notebook, but if it’s a diary...I’ll let it be?” The confusion in her voice is clear, making Dejun sigh as he looks up to seek for an answer.

Contrary to what one would believe, Dejun is easily annoyed, but not exactly an explosive person. He doesn’t bask on his anger for long, if he ever gets to that point of madness, really. “It’s not a diary.”

“So...”

When he looks down, his hands grip softly on her skin, moving her arms from side to side with that whiny tone on his voice. “Just don’t ask, don’t ask.” He repeats, childishly scrunching his face up. This is one of the sides of him people rarely get to see, foreshadowed by his usual frown. “...It’s embarrassing.”

She can’t help but laugh at his antics, the man joining with a pained smile of his own. “Why would songwriting be embarrassing?”

“It’s not the songwriting that makes me embarrassed. It’s what I write about.” He complains, letting go of her wrists to leave them with a pure tingling sensation. Dejun’s touch is a reminder of all the good in the world, like butterflies that fleet in the most precious of spring days. “So please, never open this notebook.” The request falls on deaf ears when he takes her by the shoulders to push her towards her guitar. “Now, play me that song from the top—”

“What do you even write there?!” They have known each other for over a year, and been working together against her tone-deafness for more than five weeks, practically in the peak of being called a month. “Songs about those anime girls from your videogames or something?”

The loud cackle he gives her brings a smile to her face, much more when she gets to see it from up close. Dejun always does the same routine of wrapping the guitar around her shoulders, securely put in place before he does anything else. “Valid assumption, but still not true.”

“How am I supposed to know when you didn’t let me look inside the notebook—?”

Pressing two of his fingers to her forehead, he shakes his head while laughing. “You’re never going to know.”

“Dejun!”

And when he mimics her tone but with her name instead, she knows Dejun has that stubborn side that leads him to be both the best man and a complete mystery.

She’ll get to know him fully one day, that is certain.

🎸

The pouring rain is the first thing that welcomes her when she gets off the bus.

The week is the absolute opposite of nice, with textbooks waiting for her in the depths of her apartment, with the most important parts highlighted just for when she gets home—the entire chapter, basically—and of course, it could only be worsened when she had to get an earful from Ji earlier this week, only to be defended by Dejun himself, the only reason why she keeps liking music as much as she does. Relaxation should come from playing the guitar, leaving the minor key songs for days exactly like this. For when she is feeling weakened, with her limbs barely lifting from the floor as she slouches. Right now, she is cursing the world for forgetting her umbrella at her apartment, dry and comfortable, just like how she should be.

“What are you doing? Don’t stand there!” Then, there comes the sunshine hidden behind an eclipse, a man like Dejun. The rain stops momentarily for her, feeling the warmth of his body pressed to the side of her body. Just over two months of talking to this man for the entirety of her weeks simply to meet him on Saturdays and share their knowledge of music, is enough for her to miss the sound of his voice when he is not there. When she looks over her shoulder, she sees Dejun’s arms sprawled on top of them, his hair sticking to his face, gray hoodie drenched by the rain.

“Sorry,” Soon after, she starts walking, matching her pace with Dejun’s. Now, tempos are easier to follow. One. Two. Three. Four. Even his steps match the rhythm of songs, always bleeding musical knowledge. She must look just as ruined by the rain as him, but not equally as captivating. When she looks up at what’s covering them, droplets of rain falling in thickness upon her shoulders, she realizes Dejun is using his favorite denim jacket to protect them from the tremendous weather. “Hey, you also didn’t bring an umbrella!”

“I never check the weather. Sue me.”

She smiles. Whilst her umbrella must be perfectly put in place, warm and candid, she feels warmth when she is with Dejun. Something within him must have broken at the sight of her, replacing his fashionable frowns for something sweeter, tastier to the sight. “Neither do I.” She says, gripping Dejun’s arm in between her fingers. “I think we should run.”

He sighs at that. “I’m wearing the boots my dad gave me for my birthday, I don’t think I should be running and risking splashing them with water.”

Nudging his side, she smiles at his words. “Okay, old man, we’ll walk very slowly.”

His fingers reach for her ear, gripping it softly and pulling it to tease her. “Be respectful.”

“I am!”

“You used to be,” He corrects her, raising his eyebrows at her antics. “Then something happened in this brain of yours and something changed.”

Something about him is playful that morning, long gone are his yawns and his focused eyes when listening to music, when hearing her technique. Instead, she takes the opportunity to cling to this eventful side of Dejun, pushing him softly until he stands away from the denim jacket that they are now holding together, seeking for that last bit of warmth that is left. Half of his face is hit by water, a gasp leaving his lips as he repeats the action.

Three seconds is all it takes before they start to continuously push one another.

“You’re a demon!” Dejun adds in between laughter, pushing the door of the mall open with his back as he looks at her. She rejoices in the sight of him, so happy that it could very much become the picture that accompanies the term in the dictionary. The sound of the drops of rain falling from the clothes and hitting the floor is the harmony to their laughter, clinging to the jacket that now is held in between the two.

“You were the one that told me something was wrong with my brain!” She argues, watching as Dejun runs his fingers through his dark hair, the locks staying behind and leaving his joyful face out for the world to enjoy.

“I just said you were disrespectful, and you proved it.”

“Damn it,” She says, snapping her fingers before walking beside Dejun, probably going towards a scolding session from Dejun’s coworker. The rain on the weak, wood-based flooring is definitely something he won’t be happy about. “Guess you were right.” The shrug she gives him has Dejun smiling, inspecting her face like he wants to remember the notes her lips give out. Something about him is softer, his lips or his eyes, when the clashing waves of his mind suddenly turn into a lake, portrayed through a gaze that could be the daydream of a romantic.

“Huh, I guess I was.” Though the meaning of the sentence goes undercover for her, hidden in the depth of the mind of a man she falls for every single time. On Mondays, she thinks she can forget him—Dejun is just a dream, just a paradox or an enigma she wants to solve, and then a text is enough to make him seem human. “You’re lucky you’re cute, though.”

Some people say that compliments freeze the world, but those words from him are enough to make time seem too fast for her liking, warming the weather from the bottom of her heart to the edge of her skin. “Am I?” She asks, voice too soft and breathy to even sound like her, but Dejun smiles, looking down before nodding his head. “Th—”

A sneeze interrupts her.

It doesn’t come from Dejun’s soft, rosy lips. Instead, it obnoxiously settles on her throat, leaving her nose tingling with an uncomfortable sensation. Another one comes soon after, her hands clasping her chest in order to stop it, because this is the cinematic moment she has been waiting for since she has met Dejun and it can’t be interrupted in such a way.

His eyes widen, taking her by the shoulders and basically dragging her inside the guitar shop as he rambles: “Oh, god, let me get you some warm clothes and help you out before you get sick.” Maybe, she is already halfway there, but she can’t tell him such thing, shaking her head in an attempt of saving the moment.

“I’m alright, Dejun—”

“Are you sure?” He asks, ignoring the sound of his co-worker complaining when he turns around to look at her. “I—”

Sneeze.

Huh, this doesn’t sound like she is ‘alright’.

The next hour is spent with Dejun dragging some cloth on her hair, making sure that it is fresh and dry. The lightness of the old band t-shirt she is wearing, along with a pair of jeans Dejun went out to buy at the mall, really does not make her feel better. Her heart is palpitating, wondering if Dejun thinks of her as adorable as he claimed earlier when she is like this, sneezing her heart out in a terrific tune.

For now, she tries to concentrate on the feel of his fingers drying her hair, silence and muffled apologies joining in a dance, for this is yet another side of Xiao Dejun. The caring but unknowing side of him.

🎸

When someone becomes a college student, it is a norm to have stacks of textbooks somewhere and anywhere, a shirt waiting for them in their couch in case they are late to class, a bag of snacks in the depths of their room for when that midnight, pre-test anxiousness hits and of course, how could she forget the necessary TV device, creator of all procrastination habits, the sweetest form of relaxation?

Well, Dejun’s apartment has all those things...multiplied by a hundred.

Truthfully, they have been friends for a while and she should have expected Dejun to be the messily organized type; in his own torn bedroom, he finds everything he needs and more, but it exudes the energy of every college student, compressed in the walls of a shared apartment. Even so, the man rests his legs on top of the coffee table, but also on top of one of his roommate’s textbooks—Yangyang, it’s his name, pretty sweet guy over all, but incredibly annoying in Dejun’s words. His guitar is resting on top of legs, leaned back on his couch so relaxedly one would never think Dejun has five tests to study for.

“Composing a song is easy,” The man flaunts as he plays an unknown song on his beloved acoustic guitar, closing his eyes for a brief moment to concentrate on the sound. Meanwhile, she should really be concentrating on the black notebook Dejun gave her as a gift, or her actual guitar, but Dejun’s eyelashes are too pretty, little satin stripes that connect to her favorite part of his face. They open at the time she thinks that, too. “You just have to think of something inspiring. An idea, a concept, even a person.”

“That’s the hard part, though.” She points out, lifting her fingers up to her guitar to play a tune of her own. Soft and barely audible, but uncertain in projection. “How does one write about all these things without making them sound cringe-worthy?”

Shaking his head at the reminder of something, Dejun hums at her words. “An artist always cringes at what they’ve done.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Certainly.”

She puckers her lips up at that, reaching for her notebook and looking through the empty pages. “...I have a question...” With Dejun, there comes the power of positivism and maybe, she is too far down dreamland to wake up. She believes that, behind his peaceful expression, the slightest possibility of having something in between them shines in its absence. Easy is to claim that she wants it to happen, to get a taste of Dejun’s lips, to hear the rhythm of his breathing when she lays her head on his chest. “Do you cringe at what you have written on your notebook?” The question has Dejun choking on his own saliva, her hand reaching over to pat him in the back.

“I get shy about it, but I wouldn’t necessarily say I cringe.”

Fluttering her eyelashes in a way of pushing him to even let her take a peek inside his songwriting notebook, she gives up when she realizes the only thing Dejun gives her is a smile. “...I really want to see what you’ve written there!”

But he continues with his stubborn ways. “Just the typical songs about youth and all that. Nothing serious.”

Mocking the tone of his voice when he says ‘nothing serious’, she takes her guitar in between her hands once again before starting over with the same tune she had tried to play earlier, but more certain this time. “Well, then,” Lifting her chin up in the air, she would never notice just how far she has gone. Now, she doesn’t have to look at the guitar the entire time to play a song and she is able to hold a conversation while playing. “I’m going to write songs in that notebook and I’m not letting you see them.”

The guitar tutor actually shrugs his shoulders and it should be offensive, and it downright is. “I don’t mind.”

“Aren’t you curious of what I write?”

Dejun turns in the couch so they are facing each other, their guitars standing in between their bodies. “I am,” He confesses, eyes a complete conundrum, but that is the magic of him, the reason why she keeps coming back in hopes of understanding what his gaze reads. “But I respect your privacy, unlike other people.” His fingers get away from his guitar to grab at her cheeks, pulling them softly and pinching them in a mocking manner. The serious expression on her face is enough of an answer for him.

“Ha-ha. I was just curious!”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“I’m not a cat. That’s enough of an excuse.”

“Oh my God, look how cute you two are. Now kiss!”

The sound of someone cooing immediately has the two pulling away from each other, burning on the face out of complete embarrassment. By the entrance of the apartment is the insufferable roommate Dejun has to share apartment with, Yangyang, with his hair hidden under a snapback and his fingers gripping the edge of his backpack. What he said is a reminder of how her friendship with Dejun has that ground of shyness, one that comes from the fact that she crushes on him and she is too scared of opening up to him to a point of no return. What if one day, simply because of her slurry mouth, she ends up confessing to him?

It would be a nightmare.

Instead, Dejun picks up the nearest cushion to throw it at Yangyang’s face, mumbling something along the lines of ‘shut up’, but the youngest is far too in his own world to care. “So, this is the girl you’ve been having your Saturday escapades with the past two months.” She tries to concentrate on her guitar, but she stopped playing a long time ago. Instead, she watches as Dejun rolls his eyes, terribly attractive in the way the annoyance beams through his gaze. “Look at you two—”

“Yangyang, is there anything you need?”

The roommate’s fingers wrap around Dejun’s foot, bringing it down the coffee table as he speaks: “One, don’t do that. This table is so cheap it could be made out of cardboard, for all I know.” The comment has her laughing, making the young man turn to look at her. Plump lips, straight nose and a set of expressive eyes, Yangyang is most definitely a face to remember, and a person with an annoyance level high enough to get an award. “Two, I need my math book. I have a test tomorrow.”

Dejun lifts his eyebrows at that. “You could have studied earlier.”

But Yangyang chuckles, joyful and in the name of youth. “Sure, Mom. I will next time.” But the sarcasm on his tone drips when he moves away from the living room, pointing at her with his finger. “What’s your name again? Dejun told me but I forgot.” She repeats it, a smile growing on his face. “Good, nice to meet ya.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“...But add Xiao to that last name. It’ll save you time,” With a waltz on his step, Yangyang rushes to his room just in time to lock himself after Dejun follows after him, knocking on his door once and trying to twist the doorknob to no avail. Worst of all, Yangyang is laughing loudly from the other side of the room.

“I don’t deserve such disrespect, you know?” Dejun sighs, turning around to look at her before hissing. “I’m so sorry for that—”

“No, it’s nothing, Dejun. He was only joking.” She tells him, only to hear the sound of Yangyang’s voice from his room once again.

“See? She gets my jokes!”

Well, Dejun was not wrong when he said his roommate is annoying.

The good thing is that he gifts her, and absentmindedly so, another eye-roll from Dejun. It damn right is impossible for someone to look that beautiful when doing something so miniscule, but maybe she is just that into Dejun, from the sound of his voice to the depths of his personality, to the jokes that no one gets but he laughs to. That is just the magic of Xiao Dejun.

🎸

Dejun is the blurred lines of a badly printed book, leaving her on edge, in the need to know more, but it only falls down to guessing what that line has to say. Sometimes, she feels like he really has shown her all of him and most specifically, she feels it when Dejun goes out of their Saturday classes to hang out with her outside that schedule, even risking a few hours to study simply to hang out with her. This is one of those occasions,

The avid way he speaks about the movie they just watched is as exciting as his way of eating the leftover pieces of popcorn, making her laugh at his overly enraged banter because ‘the movie just didn’t meet his expectations’. She agrees wholeheartedly, the movie was as bad as it could get, but bad movies are—in the majority of situations—just a source of laughter. This is their case, because a comment about the movie from her has Dejun throwing his head back with laughter, the sound melodious as they reach one of the many balconies at the mall. Their home, really, they have spent a big chunk of the last few months there, getting to know each other, opening up to the idea of a friendship.

He is the first one to lean against the railing, taking the box of popcorn in between his hands as he eats. The wind blows on his hair, parting the dark strands and letting her see his relaxed face as he stares at the city nearby. “I’m buying you dinner in a sec. What are you feeling?” His fingers pop another popcorn inside his mouth, and she reaches over to grab a bit more to try the buttery treat.

“Sushi sounds nice.” She tells him, standing by his side and looking at him. Not that he would notice, he is far too thrilled by the city lights. “But I’m paying half.”

“Deal.” He knows better than to argue, pushing his fingers in between the leftovers of popcorn to look for the ones that are the most buttery. Something is bothering him now, and it’s not exactly the movie, she knows it because Dejun’s frown plasters over his relaxed face—a mix of both a good moment and a bad one. When he turns to look at her, he opens his mouth to say: “Come on, open up.” And she does, welcoming the popcorn he gives her before he releases yet another sigh.

“Did the movie disappoint you that much?”

“Your commentary made it better.” Dejun confesses, leaving a smile on her face but he is unable to return it, his lips barely quirking up when he speaks. “I have something to tell you, though.”

Juvenile is the sight of his face, washed in disdain and bothersome fear. She touches his shoulder, telling that anything he tells her, she’ll be open to listen and that is enough to make him feel better. He would never be able to see what she sees in him; the depth that keeps pulling her back, the passion that he feels for music and how it merges in his life; the sweetness of his antics; the positivism of him and his listening skills. He would never see himself like she sees him, but she is there to prove that he is one of the best people she has met in her entire life, a gush of fresh air in the middle of copy-paste individuals.

“I won’t judge you. Just tell me anything.”

“I am trying out for an exchange program at my university.” The words weight, in proximity or in possibility, but they are an anchor in her chest, weighting her heart down with pride but at the same time fear. Fear of losing him, of not meaning the same to him, of simply having all those memories they made go completely forgotten by the man. Dejun looks over to her, sighing deeply when she doesn’t say a word. “You probably don’t care, but I wanted to tell you. You have been such a close friend lately, and I want you to know I’ll probably be leaving for a semester or two.” He bites down on his bottom lip, a thin layer of oil covering it. “And I’ll miss you.”

Dejun is a star, even when he doesn’t notice it, he shines on his own and will shine even brighter around a group of people who don’t know him. She knows what it’s like to be a student, for she is one, as well, and she recognizes how hard it is to get into an exchange program, so watching that star get away from her only fills her with pride. “What? Dejun...that is so cool!” She announces, though the fear of going forgotten once he leaves settles on her chest. “I’m so proud—uh, congratulations! Did you get into any of them yet?”

“I’m waiting for a response for a few of them, but I think I’m getting in.” His smile is shaky when he speaks and she clicks her tongue.

“Where are you trying to go to?”

His infamous eyes look up for a few seconds before lifting one of his hands up. “Japan, England or Canada. One of those three.” The thought of the excitement that must be bubbling inside Dejun’s chest is enough to have her clapping her hands, nodding her head to what he is saying.”I really hope I get in.”

“Oh, you will.”

“How are you so sure?”

“You’re Xiao Dejun!” The tone of her voice means business, basically giving a piece of her mind. “You’re one of the best students in the music major, I’m sure there is not a single university that would miss a chance like that.” His cheeks flush with heat, rosy just how she likes them, and that brings a swell of gratification to her chest. “Sure, I will miss you, but...I will also be very proud. You deserve it.”

He doesn’t know a lot of things and now the clock is mocking her, telling her to hurry up before Dejun goes anywhere else and her feelings die down in the back of her throat, an unreleased note for a singer to copy. Above everything, the fear of rejection is palpable, pulsing on her heart to speed through the beat. Part of her wants to take her chances and confess to Dejun, but the other part encourages being a coward. The second part wins, once again, when instead of giving him a hug to get a feel of him, trap him in a memory even for the slightest bit, she congratulates him further, for Dejun is made to be successful, made to be a star.

🎸

“Is this the name of the high school you went to? I just want to make sure before I send this e-mail.”

Jolting awake, Dejun’s weight almost falls on the floor if it was not for his grip on the sides of the computer chair. His eyes scan the room, lost for a brief moment, because this is definitely his room but he doesn’t recall ever inviting her over. Then, it downs upon him, his mind floating around the white walls that surround him—she is there because she is helping him send applications to different universities. His fingers go through his silky hair, moving his chair over to where she is to look over her shoulder, checking what she had written on his laptop.

In her defense, Dejun seemed incredibly tired from exams and she simply wants a distraction after working on a project for the entirety of two weeks, so helping him sounded delightful. Not better than the feeling of his chest pressed to her back, chin almost resting on her shoulder as his eyes scan over the e-mail. His eyes are surrounded by darkness, given that Dejun has had to study for both exams at his classes and the entering exams for other universities. His skin is a bit dry, one or two pimples appearing out of stress and of course, he completely forgot to wear cologne, for he is in his home. He is speaking in is normal tone, unaware that Yangyang is sleeping, or careless about it.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Dejun’s rough voice says before she hits the ‘send’ button, tearing her gaze away from her crush to concentrate on the task at hand. Absentmindedly, Dejun rests his cheek against her shoulder, dizzily talking through his sleep. “I’m so sleepy. I didn’t even know I fell asleep.” But she knew, of course. Dejun fell asleep only fifteen minutes before, taking up a fetal position in the uncomfortable office chair and he didn’t fall because life is always on his side, along with fate. A yawn escapes him, lifting his gaze to look at her through half-opened eyes. “Do you want me to take you home? It’s probably late and all...” Another yawn leaves his lips and it gets to her, yawning as well.

“Take a nap and then, take me home.” She indicates, cracking her fingers after writing for so long. “I don’t want you falling asleep behind the steering wheel.” Her heart softens at the sight of Dejun, pulling away from her to hum softly.

“But you wake me up, okay?”

“How long should I let you nap for?”

As he drags himself closer to the bed, fluffing out his pillows as he rests over his stomach, he whispers with his cheek pressed to the fabric of his pillow. “Thirty minutes.” Though, she can’t help but smile at his sleepy state, standing up from the chair she is seated on to take the blanket by Dejun’s feel, pulling it up his body to cover him from the cold. Her fingers make sure the blanket is clasped perfectly around his shoulders, her eyes making out the figure of Dejun’s fingers hiding under his pillow.

It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep.

The night is boring without the sound of Dejun doing something, and she keeps looking through the pictures of the universities Dejun has tried for, praying silently for him to get, at the very least, one acceptance letter from one of them. It is when she reaches over for her lukewarm cup of coffee that she feels something else beneath her hands, looking to the side to see the ever-captivating, extremely interesting notebook that Dejun always carries around. The same one he would die for if he had to, the one he doesn’t even let her touch.

But hey, it’s there, blinking at her, telling her to read it, to just take a little peek inside now that Dejun is asleep, and the emotion is too much to push it to the back of her head, tracing the outline of the notebook and opening it to see the first few pages.

At first, she doesn’t know why Dejun is so embarrassed. They are simple songs, about youth and love, about whatever crosses his head, but soon after, the pages get newer, not so over-lined and instead, she is met with songs oddly specific, speaking about colors in a person’s eyes and the quirk of a smile. It is when she gets to a certain page, tainted with a heart at the corner, badly drawn by her friend, that she notices the title of the song is her name, though in parenthesis he had written to ‘change the name soon’.

He never did.

One would think the song talks about friendship, that is what she wants to believe, but the chords are in major keys—happy, bubbly, excited, and the lyrics are a prophecy of love. Then, she realizes Dejun is equally as shy as her, scared of the ‘what if’s’ of life, of not being loved in return and she has to close the notebook in a hassle just not to scream.

So...that’s why he didn’t want her to look at it.

But, that was months ago, so Dejun has had to feel this way for even more than a month. Once she turns over her shoulder to look at him, peacefully sleeping with his eyes half-open, she wishes she could read his mind, see what it is that is stopping him from saying those things out loud, but she can’t. Dejun is her enigma, and there is nothing she could do to change that.

🎸

“Huh, I don’t think I have this Nirvana record...”

Keeping a secret from Dejun is difficult, because he sees through everything and anything about her, she kind of expects him to, as well, for telling him that she has seen the notebook he always hides, but not only that, the contents inside of it. Instead, she tries to concentrate on being as natural as possible, for Dejun will leaving in a month from now, directly to another continent and away from her, and the least she wants is to lose him now, just for her prying ways and her curious mind.

Searching through the stacks of albums in the record store at the mall, everything is a blur for her. Everything but him. She has been looking at Dejun, hoping to engrave every single one of his habits in her head for when she misses him once he is gone, but another look is another wish to kiss him out of the plenty she already has, the bursting need to tell him the truth wanting to rip through her. If he feels such a way and she feels just as strongly about him, then why did she have to wait? Why didn’t she sort it out by telling him ‘before you go, I want you to know I really feel like I have fallen for you’?

Dejun bites his bottom lip in uncertainty, picking up two albums before sighing. “Should I pick a Foo Fighters album or the Nirvana one? I’m torn.” Normally, she would have taken this chance to make her money worth it, even when she said that she was going to pay for anything Dejun picked, giving her opinion on what he should buy, but this time around, she is far too entranced in him. In the happiness he shows, wearing that damned denim jacket, holding two vinyl albums up to his face.

“Uh-huh.” She adds thoughtlessly, not even trying to mask the dumb smile that she has on her face.

“Are you even listening to me?” Dejun asks, putting the records down to frown at her, though the small grin he gave her said otherwise.

“Uh-huh.”

“How old are you?”

“Uh-huh.”

Looking around the record store, half-empty at this time of the morning, he takes a few steps forward to take her by the shoulders and shake her gently, earning a bigger smile from her. In his eyes, this must be the weirdest day of his life, or it is the weirdest day already. “You’re acting weird, and you never say ‘uh-huh’ to anything I say. Are you sure you’re alright?” Dejun’s eyes are filled with interest, watching as she rests her hands on top of his biceps, gripping to ground herself in her ecstatic train of thought.

“I am okay,” She mumbles, looking up and down his features, but letting her gaze rest on his lips. How could she go one more day without wanting to kiss those lips? “I really liked the song.” Her smile drops when she says those words, because she really wasn’t trying to out herself in what she did. Dejun is equally as confused, if not more, She lets go of him, licking the side of her mouth to stop it from running any more words.

“What song?” He asks, and when she tries to get away from him, Dejun grabs her by the wrists, pulling her closer to his chest. “What song did you like?”

It is now or never, she thinks when she glances at Dejun, so powerful in his own way. Something about him screams to tell the truth, a reminder that everything good in the world hides behind those eyes, emotionalism that he has only shown her. The least she wants is to break his heart, and he’ll be angered when she finally tells him that— “I looked through your songwriting notebook and saw the song you wrote for me.”

All the color drains from Dejun’s face, who now has finally had it. “I told you not to look! L—Listen, that’s invasion of privacy and I don’t like it.”

“I know it was wrong of me! I just...You were asleep, and I was curious and I thought I would find nothing interesting.”

“Well, you found...that.”

Sighing deeply, she takes her backpack off, taking her own songwriting notebook out to open it in front of Dejun’s eyes. At first, he is too betrayed to even look at her, so she softly speaks up. “Dejun, I am so sorry, but everything will be better if you look at this.”

His eyebrows furrow with anger, rolling his eyes to look at her notebook. Indeed, in the open pages he doesn’t see a song, per say, but he sees his name written in all types of fonts, followed by hearts, stars, whatever else she is doodling when she should be writing songs. “What—?”

“I can’t write songs for the life of me. It’s too hard, still. But you do, and this is my way of matching...that talent of yours.” She finally lowers her notebook, shy under his studious gaze when she looks anywhere but at him. Something in the atmosphere reminds her of flowers, soft yet enchanting, a memory of love, and it makes her feel stupid. So, this is what Dejun meant when he said all artists have their moments of cringe. “Ah...you said all artists do cringe-worthy stuff, and this is my try on that, I guess.”

Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, Dejun mumbles something along the lines of ‘shut up’ before grasping her jaw. Her eyes study his features, everything sharp about him, fierce and scary to anyone who doesn’t know him, how his eyes stare at her like she is the last person on Earth and he is looking for the humble moment of optimism that everything is going to turn out alright at the end. Dejun is the sickness, the vaccine; the reason behind her smile and the twisting feeling in her stomach because she is nervous.

Nervous until he kisses her, the same pair of lips she has fallen for the last year or so. The lines of a song he never sang to her show through the kiss he gives her, his body relaxed against the wall, her notebook tightly pressed in between the two when she rests her hands on his waist, wanting to feel more of him. What is she but a woman that wants for him to fall into her, to catch him in her arms. That certain stare is not there when she opens her eyes softly to look at him, for he is far too concentrated on kissing her, so she closes them again, because there is nothing to worry, nothing to hold on to when she has it all.

The sound of someone arranging vinyls beside them is not what makes them stop, but the sound of the worker’s voice—rough and rock-ish—when they say: “No making out in our shop.”

With a boyish chuckle, Dejun pulls away, warming her heart with the small kiss he gives to her forehead, a reminder of what just happened. “Never look through my stuff again, understood?”

“I will never.”

🎸

One day, visiting Dejun at the guitar shop is no longer a reason for her to learn the guitar, but their brief moment where they become the only people in the world, and she loves it.

The promise of a good time is always there with Dejun, for he is not a walking headache in any possible way. These days, she sees him smile more, even though he is studying harder and they barely get to see each other with their exams colliding annoyingly with each other’s schedules. It is on those perfect Saturday mornings that she gets to see him, half-asleep and ready to play the guitar. Today, he is playing a song she doesn’t recognize—her ears have gotten exponentially better in the past few months, enough for her to recognize notes—. All majors, in this case.

Two more weeks until he leaves, the blinking light of her phone mocks her for checking the day and feeling her heart stop at the reminder of Dejun leaving for an entire year before she gets to see him again. Part of her tells her to let it be; Dejun is going to be in a new campus, meeting new people, forgetting that he ever felt this happy with someone, that he ever wrote songs about the tone-deaf girl he met well over a year ago, closer to two years. But the egotistic, the needy part of her wants to have him for herself even when they are far away, being able to pride on the fact that Dejun may have fallen for her. Not that he has said it, the two silently know what the other is feeling by now.

He is at peace, playing the guitar while he rests his cheek against the wall, half asleep in the cramped room. She wonders if he is dreaming of what he has achieved, if he knows the difference between dreams and reality now that he has it all. His eyes close momentarily, basking in the sound of his guitar and if it wasn’t for the sound, she would guess he was asleep.

“Dejun?” The man simply hums at the sound of her voice, stopping his motions to open his eyes and look at her. Those eyes, that stare, all about him screams for her to do something. Dejun will never be hers, but his own, yet she wants to be able to tug him to her arms whenever she wants, kiss all the worries away from him and reassure him he’s fully capable of anything he puts his mind into. No, she needs to be the one at the airport when he arrives a year from now, making him feel like he is back home. “I want to ask you something.”

In the realm of this comfortable ‘thing’ they have, Dejun nods his head, putting his guitar away and dragging his seat closer to her to wrap his arms around her waist. “Okay, ask me anything.”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” The sound of her voice is uncertain, the heat of the room making her feel like she can barely breathe, and maybe she is holding her breath, too. Dejun is surprised, it shows through the gleam in his brown eyes and how his eyebrows raise to the point they may become one with his hairline. “I mean...sure, you’re leaving, but I would love to date you, even if it’s from far away—”

“You’re up for a long distance relationship?”

“Of course!” She confronts him, widening her eyes as if what he just said was nonsensical. “Dejun, I’ve fallen for you, and no type of distance is ever going to be able to change that.”

His lips quirk up at that, taking her hands in between his fingers to kiss on her knuckles, interlocking their calloused fingertips to feel the warmth of her skin. “You’ve fallen for me?”

“I have,” She whispers, rubbing her lips together out of nervousness. “Have...you?”

“I have.” Dejun confirms, a laugh leaving his lips when he kisses her hands once again, pecking them quickly to demonstrate his excitement. Actually, all sleepiness seems to be drained from his body when he stands up to give her one of those big, childish kisses he gives her when he is far too excited. “Let’s date, then.” The certainty in his voice has her giggling, hiding her face in his neck to stop the shyness that seeps through her.

So, this is what a major key would feel like if it was an emotion. Bubbly, happy, enamored by life. She only wishes a minor key never becomes part of their relationship.

🎸

Time-zones are a headache, she discovers on the first week after Dejun is gone and eleven months later, the ache of her eyes when she hears her phone softly going off is still annoying.

Leaning her head back, her fingertips press down on the taut skin of her eyes, wanting to get rid of the pain before patting her bedside table to unlock her phone before her roommate goes off with another complaint about her midnight calls. But, much to her surprise, this is not a call, instead, it is a message that Dejun has sent her. The morning sounds like more of an inviting time to read anything he has to say, but she misses him too much to even ignore him, ghosting her touch over the notification before pressing down on it, watching the screen-cap of a video he just sent her.

And he’s there, with his hair bleached blonde and those infamous rounded glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. His denim jacket is gone, for it is hidden in the depths of her closet, coated in his scent and memories she would be damned to forget about (sometimes, she can still remember the feeling of the rain on top of their skins), and instead, Dejun is wearing black clothing. It takes her a second to reach for her earphones, plugging them inside her phone before getting underneath her sheets, as if to have more privacy with her boyfriend.

Still, her boyfriend.

She barely got two weeks of having a physically-there boyfriend, so she still gets giddy at the word.

The first thing she sees—and hears—is Dejun fixing the screen of his phone so it is facing properly, sighing when he gets the angle he desires. “Hey, sweetheart.” Long ago, she would have thought Dejun is the epitome of seriousness, but the giggle he gives is enough of an indication that she was wrong. His palm rests against his forehead, cringing at the sound of his voice when he leans back on his seat. With his arms crossed over his chest, he continues. “It’s super late for you, but I just got out of my classes and I wanted to remind you that we have one more month before we see each other.” He pauses for a moment, frowning at his train of thought. “We’ve been dating for almost a year and still, I haven’t taken you out on a date. Fuck—” He chuckles at what he just said and she can’t help but grin.

Burning with the need to see him, tipping at the edge of impatience, she wishes for the day they meet again to come sooner, just so she can fall in love with him yet another time.no

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justoneday-namjoonii · 5 years

Text

It burns, doesn’t it? [Pt. 16]

Genre/au: Mafia!au, Mature, Fluff, Angst. Violence and all that good mafia stuff. Warning: Depictions of graphic torture and brief/mentioned sexual assault. This story contains graphic imagery, mental health problems, mature subject matter, improper drug usage, suggestive language, self-medication, crude/unnerving behavior, toxic coping, intensity, bloodshed. If you’re easily triggered, please proceed with caution or don’t proceed.

members: Jungkook x Yoongi x Namjoon x Jin x Hoseok x Jimin x Taehyung x Ft. Got7

pairing: Jungkook x reader x ?

summary: Why am I hurting alone? Why am I in love alone?

word count: 10k +

author’s note: wow, its been almost 9 months, the long-awaited pt 16 is finally here!! I apologize for the wait, I had a lot going on in my life but I’m good^^ Anyway, I’m excited to see how this series continues to progress and all I really have to say is...its getting real♡

| Prologue | Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6 | Pt. 7 | Pt. 8 | Pt. 9 | Pt. 10 | Pt. 11 | P. 12 | Pt. 13 | Pt. 14 | Pt. 15 | Pt. 16 | Pt. 17 | Pt. 18 | Pt. 19 | Pt. 20 |

Another late night.

It seemed like the only constant in his life right now is the smiling faces of his two children. They’re often asleep when he gets home, so it’s no surprise that he doesn’t hear their giggles and bickering at this time of night. He walks down the hallway, pulled at his tie and opened his bedroom door. That’s when he saw his wife sitting with a book up to her nose, eyes shifting to him upon his arrival.

“How was work, honey? You’re back much later than I thought you’d be.” His wife greets him with a kiss on the cheek as he enters their bedroom fully, briefcase being dropped to the side so he could embrace her.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, the station is a mess right now.” He released her so he could go to the restroom. He continued to speak, “I’m hoping that’ll change soon.”

He showered, tiredly washing the day off of him with the help of steaming hot water. The idea of all of the mayhem he’s in weighed on his mind, there are so many people involved and it’s all up to him to put it to a stop, for once and for all.

After he showered, he turned off the lamp and sat on the edge of the bed, just gazing out of the window.

“Honey...” His wife pipes up from her side of the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you ever feel like what you’re doing won’t really make a difference? Like your work won’t pay off in the long run...Or have you ever been faced with a decision that could change lives? And you just feel scared.”

She smiled in sympathy for her husband's distress.

“Of course honey, every nurse feels like that sometimes.”

“But what do you do? Do you leave it for someone else whos more capable? Or do you just, go for it?...”

“Well, is it the right thing to do?”

He nods.

“Then the answer is simple, sweetheart.” She pecks his cheek, a grin on her beautiful face.

“If you have the chance to do good, then you do it.”

- The night after you met with Jungkook. -

[ 2:09 AM ]

It didn’t feel real, it couldn’t be. But you still feel his hands on your skin, his lips on your neck, and his breath against your ear—he leaves his imprint on you every time you two touch, and he hasn’t touched you in what feels like forever. Empty, that’s the word that comes to mind. A hollowness in your soul that cannot be sated, not anymore.

Jimin drove you back home, or at least back to what you call home right now. You two made it to the base and you were silent, you didn’t say anything, neither did Jimin. It wasn’t because of any hard feelings, it was because you were in shock and Jimin was just processing what he just did. He took you to see Jungkook, he gave you what you wanted, so why does it feel like he made it worse?

“I’m-...” Jimin began to say something but stops, causing you to peer at him for a moment. When he meets you curious gaze, he lets out a sigh. “I’m glad you got to see him.” He thought you would agree, or thank him, the last thing he thought you would do is start to cry.

He was completely caught off guard, so much so that he diverted his gaze. He turned the car off and waited—what he was waiting for, he wasn’t quite sure, but he wanted to tread lightly.

“I’m gonna go to my room...” You choke that out and before he registers what you said, you’re out of the car and running to the back door he took you out of.

What went wrong? You shouldn’t have been upset, he let you see Jungkook and that’s all you’ve wanted, so why are you crying all of a sudden?

Jimin understands all too well the turmoil that goes on within the head of a brokenhearted person—your heart was broken over having to leave Jungkook.

He walks into his bedroom and crashes on the bed, mind begging for a break from the mental exhaustion of the night.

The night goes on and you’ve been completely quiet for a few hours, until now. He kept hearing a bumping noise like something kept falling or something was being hit repeatedly. He got up from his bed and tiptoed to your room, even though there were still quite a few people awake, he didn’t want to be obvious as he ventured to your room.

He knocked on the door, once. When you didn’t answer, he knocked again. “Y/n? Are you okay?” You respond with an unconvincing, ‘I’m fine.’

“But I heard a bumping noise, did you fall?”

He grips the door nob and slowly pushes it open, and there you are, sitting on your bed, but laying half your body on your side. You don’t look back, even after he closes the door, you still don’t look to see who it is. He circles around the bed to where you are and furrows his brows. You’re wearing a tee-shirt, and that’s it—you must have just finished applying ointment.

“Hey,” Jimin approaches you, “Is everything okay?”

“I was hurting, everywhere...” He studies your surroundings and sees that a pill bottle was on your nightstand. It was open and it looked like you took a few out. “I took some medicine and it stopped, I’m fine, you didn’t have to come to check on me.”

Worry is deeply engraved in his brows. “Y/n, you don’t need those anymore,” He goes over to quickly close the bottle and tuck it in his pocket, “how many did you take?”

“A few...” Your speech is slurred and he notices a bunch of scars on your thighs that he’s never seen before. But rather than focusing on those, he decides to address a more pressing issue.

“Why did you do that? Those drugs are addictive, you know better than to get back on them. Especially without telling me-” He stops talking when you sit up and stare blankly at yourself, you look dazed but at the same type laser-focused.

“But I’m in pain, my insides hurt, everything hurts.” You blink slowly. “The pills...they help, a lot...”

“You’re not supposed to use drugs like that.”

“But you’re not feeling the pain I’m feeling...” You frown.

“I know but you can’t just take anything, it can really hurt you.” He comes to sit beside you and he rubs your back soothingly.

“Look...” You muttered, pointing to your thighs. You were healing considerably, the scars you’re pointing to are really not that bad anymore but you thought otherwise.

“Look at me, look at this.” Your tone was getting progressively more tense, angry almost—you poked at the skin with a look of disgust on your face, making him increasingly more worried. “It’s gross,”

“Stop,” He grabbed your wrist to stop you from jabbing at yourself, “don’t do that.”

You stare at him, blankly, just before grinning. “Why?...”

“Just don’t.”

“But I want to...” You begin to trace the scars with your index finger, looking at him at the same time and this time he grabbed your hand, but he didn’t let you go.

“Stop.”

All of a sudden, your stomach begins to turn and twist painfully and you hunch over with a hand clamped to your mouth. “I think- I-”

You yank away and run to the bathroom as quickly as your feet can take you to and Jimin immediately runs after you. You’re sitting hunched over the toilet, expelling your insides. He sits on his knees to rub your back as you have painfully, body forcing you to throw up all you had eaten in the last few hours. He can’t say he’s surprised, that’s what happens when you just swallow random pills, of course, your stomach isn’t pleased with intense drugs on an empty stomach.

“Baby...” He tentatively grips your hair and holds it up in a makeshift ponytail. “Why did you do this?”

You cough, head hung low and legs folding under you painfully. You flush the toilet after you realize your stomach had stopped attempting to murder you. Empty—your mind is empty, your stomach is empty, and Jimin is just looking at you. Embarrassment sinks in, your cheeks begin to burn red, and your head feels unbearably heavy.

“I’m sorry,” You unsteadily stand to your feet, holding on to the counter for leverage. Jimin watches you from the doorway as you turn the sink on to brush your teeth. When you finish, you lean against the counter, too ashamed to look at him, let alone the mirror.

“I’m sorry, you probably think I’m crazy, I didn’t mean to-...” You pause when he walks toward you. He effortlessly lifted you into his arms and walked you out of the bathroom, despite your protests.

“Jimin, p- put me down...” He doesn’t give in to your low request, instead, he holds you tighter and continues to walk you to your bed.

Jimin will always take care of you, always. It doesn’t matter what you look like, what you do, he grabs and puts you right back in bed. The plush mattress welcomes you as he eases you down to the corner near the nightstand. He pulls the blanket over you, and you can tell that he’s really worried because he doesn’t have that slight smile he normally has. You just saw Jungkook, you got to see the man you’ve been longing for, he wasn’t expecting a relapse like this. You’re blinking slowly and staring at nothing in particular. He was about to walk away but you grabbed his wrist to keep him from leaving your side

“I left him...He was crying, he didn’t want me to go, I didn’t want to go...” You push the covers off of you and curl up, pressing your knees to your chest. “I shouldn’t have gone...”

“I thought you wanted to see him? I wanted you to be happy and it seemed like you were but now...” He sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at you pouty lips and watery eyes. “Now you’re-”

“Now I’m alone.” You pipe up, tears tumbling down your cheeks. “And I just want him more...and it hurts even more.”

Jimin is no stranger to the feeling of loneliness.

That’s why he understands your pain better than anyone.

“You’re not alone,” he said, trapping you with an arm on each side of you. “I’m right here.”

“I know but...” You reach a hand up to cup the side of his face and his heart began to beat faster—what is happening. “But you’re not Jungkook...”

For some reason, he doesn’t say anything but his eyes look heavy, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. He dips his head down and kisses the corner of your lips lightly, so lightly that you barely registered that he did it. He leans down again to press his forehead against yours, letting his eyes fall shut.

Your eyes widened and you freeze, not knowing what to do. He shouldn’t have done that, this isn’t a good idea, but he takes your silence as an invitation to do what he’s wanted to do for the last few days. He kisses you again, but this time it’s a real kiss, movement and all. He melts at how your lips are really as soft as they look, how you don’t completely oppose his actions. The room is completely silent aside from small sounds and his deep inhale.

This is the last thing you thought he’d do. He’s pressing against your lips, velvet draping touching you in a heavenly way. He tongues at your lips, making a chill run up your spine. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to convince yourself that this is okay, that this isn’t Jimin trying to make you feel some type of way. You know he would never do anything to hurt you, he would never hurt you... It’s only after he pulls away with an audible smack, that he sees the alarm etched in your furrowed brows and your glistening lips. You’re scared.

He recoils immediately. “I'm sorry, I just-...I won’t do that again, I’m sorry.” He mutters, getting off of you. “I don’t know why I did that-”

“I- it’s okay, um,” You feign a small smile, trying to convince him that you’re not as uncomfortable as you look. “I think you should go, Jimin...”

You had never asked him to leave before.

When you turn on your side, he gets up and quickly leaves your room. Guilt settles into his stomach and his lips tingle with the regret of his sin. Did he want to do that to you? Or was it just the lust of the flesh? Because you were out of it, you were confused as to why he did it. Sure, you two have touched and stuff but he’s never kissed you, that’s one thing he told himself he wouldn’t do. Because kissing you meant something—if he kisses you it has to mean something.

On his way back to his room, he hears a creaking noise. In the darkness, his eyes dart to the window, thinking that that’s where the noise was coming from and he slowly approaches it. It’s cracked open and he lifts it to peek over the ledge.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees Taehyung staring up at him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Jimin pulls Taehyung up by the collar so that his upper body is through the window but he easily throws his legs over the windowpane so that he is standing face-to-face with Jimin.

“Not so loud,” He keeps his voice low while holding up his index finger, “I’m not trying to let the whole compound know I’m here.”

“You could get killed over here.”

“Yeah, I'll take my chances.” Taehyung walks past him and ventures to what he believes to be the kitchen. “You guys have a nice place, Yoongi hyung has good taste.” He opens up the fridge and Jimin is beyond confused.

“Why are you here Tae?” Jimin closes the refrigerator but Taehyung just swipes an apple from the dish on the counter instead.

“Where’s Jin?”

“I don’t know-” Why is Taehyung asking the questions? “Wait, you still haven’t answered my question! Why are you here?”

“I don’t think that really matters. You did your fair share of visiting us when Jungkook’s girl was around, but she’s with you all now. So, I guess there’s no reason to visit us anymore...huh?” He turns from Jimin to walk off to the staircase.

“It’s not like that.” Jimin persists. “She’s Jin’s little sister, I had to make sure she was safe, that’s it.”

Taehyung walks upstairs with urgency and into that hall that leads to what he believes is Yoongi’s office, and he’s right. Jimin doesn’t understand why Taehyung is here, and so casually at that like he’s just dropping by to say hello. Just when Tae grabs the doorknob, Jimin blocks the door with his body, keeping Taehyung from entering. They have somewhat of a stare-off.

“Leave, Tae. Yoongi’s not in there.”

“I know that. I’m not here for him.” Taehyung tries the door but Jimin grabs his wrist, painfully tight. “Relax,” He detaches Jimin’s handle on him, “I’m just looking for a document.”

“What document?”

Taehyung smiles, head tilting. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Then you can get the fuck out of here.” Jimin seethes. “Go, before I have to escort you out myself.”

“Ok, ok, I’ll go.” He holds his hands up in surrender, that same smile still present on his face. But that simper quickly turned into a devious look. “But...not before I go say hi to Y/n, I think she’s missed me.”

With that Taehyung takes off in a sprint and Jimin is quick to bolt off after him.

Jimin catches him right before he can even touch your doorknob and Taehyung is dying of amusement, not bothering to keep his laughter at bay. He’s always gotten a crack out of fucking with Jimin.

“W- woah,” He holds Jimin’s arm that is currently wrapped around his neck in a chokehold, “w- what’s the big d- deal? Someones a little jumpy.” Tae coughs.

“Shut up and get out, before I call someone up here to beat your ass.” They both know that’s just a bluff.

“But-” He coughs for air but manages to pull away from Jimin. “But deep down inside, you think she’s yours, or you want her to be at least.”

“What’re you talking about?” Jimin turns around, pushing his hair from his forehead in frustration.

“She’s messed up,” Tae leans on the wall beside your door, eyes focused on his hyung, “don’t get attached.”

“She’s been hurt, she’s not ‘messed up’. If you were thrown into his hell you’d be the same way.” Jimin defends you.

“You overcompensate for her. Just by the way you talk about her, I can tell.” He states with not a doubt in his mind. Jimin, on the other hand, is caught off guard—he stares at Tae, not really knowing how to respond. “You feel guilty and you try to be something for her. That’s not a safe move my friend. Jungkook doesn’t like that kind of stuff, you know that.”

“So what.”

“’So what?’” He scoffs. “You really think you mean something to her...She’s a user—tell her you’ll keep her safe, and at this point, there’s not a lot she won’t do for you. But it’s not just that, she’s selfish too, and Jungkook falls for it. She wants what she wants, but she can tell him no if she doesn’t like what he wants. God forbid he tell her no, all hell will break loose...”

“It’s not that easy.” Jimin cuts him off, walking up to him to stand eye to eye with him. “That’s just your problem, you think everyone is as simple as your little mind games, but they’re not.”

“My ‘mind games’ as you like to call them, aren’t simple at all. In fact, those exact same tactics you call ‘simple’ greatly contributed to what made her what she is today.”

“And what is she?”

“She’s exactly what hyung wanted, she’s got all of the qualities that’ll drive Jungkook insane.” His casual tone is borderline unnerving. “It’s funny to watch.”

“What did you do?”

“Namjoon told me to make sure she remembered that it was her fault she ended up getting tortured, the reminders are all over her now.” Jimin thinks to what he might be referring to—your scars. The ones you always cover and the ones he saw on your thighs earlier tonight, those are Taehyung’s doing.

“That was you? You’re fucking sick...” Jimin murmurs to himself. “None of this crap is her fault, she doesn’t deserve to be caught up in this shit. Life is screwing her over and it’s not because of anything she did-”

Jimin falls silent when they hear the creaking sound of your spring mattress. The sound isn’t heard anymore after a few seconds and they deem that you had stopped stirring.

“It’s not her fault but her family’s in it,” He grins, “that means she is too, she’s in too deep.” He sighs, eyes roaming in contemplation.

“What?”

“Do you feeling something for her, Jimin? Hm? Do you kiss her?” Tae stared at him, expression unwavering from the blank one he’s had for some time now. “Like, on her lips and where ever else.” He giggles at the way he said that.

Jimin hopes the heat coming to his face is undetectable. He stammers, “W- what kind of question is that-”

“It’s a simple question.”

“No, I don't.”

“Hm.” Tae shrugs, his nonchalant air coming back. “It was just a question, I mean, you spend a lot of time with her and you have a past with women, one would only assume that something was going on between you two.”

“Just leave, Taehyung.” Jimin just stared at him, waiting for Taehyung to get off the wall and go on his way, “seriously.” Taehyung walks back to the window of which he came, and without a word, he slipped out and Jimin promptly closed it behind him

He stands in front of the window, chewing on his bottom lip until he hears a door creak and his head snaps back.

“Jimin, who was that?... I heard someone outside the door...” You stand there, looking slightly spooked and all he wanted to do was crawl into the center of the earth and burn because his feet began to bring him toward you.

“It’s okay, everything's okay, just- Just go back to bed...” He looks stressed and you pick up on it instantly. He ruffles his hair, and he won’t look at you directly, you frown. Slowly, you walk towards him to dimish space between you two and he still won’t look at you.

“Jimin,” You’re all in his personal space, just staring up at him, “what’s wrong? You can tell me...” You grab on to his arm lightly and he pulls away.

“Nothing, go back to bed.” He sighed, irritation gradually building up in his tone of voice.

You frown even deeper because his tone wasn’t as sweet as it often is. You reach for his hand. “B- but-”

“I said go! Just go back to sleep, will you?” He snapped all of a sudden and that was enough to scare you off. When you scurry off into your bedroom and shut the door, he instantly regrets snapping at you like that. But just when he tries to walk into the room, he realizes that you locked the door.

He gave up on asking you to let him in and opted to go to his own room,

where he should have been this whole time.

-Flashback-

“He was loved by so many. He was a friend, a brother, a husband...A father. And- And he will be missed dearly.”

It was raining, not a hard rain, just misty—it felt that even the weather prepared for the funeral. His daughter seemed unusually detached like she had cried all she could and now she’s run out of tears.

The preacher of the funeral told her that she was strong and then looked at me. People were saying kind comforting things to me, but mainly her. The guests were leaving and I had somewhere to be so I was about to leave to but I stopped. She stood in front of the coffin that had already been lowered. I walked up to her, a white rose in my hand as well as her.

“He didn’t deserve this...” You uttered lowly. “This never should have happened...”

I glance at her, then back to the silver coffin. “Yeah...But we all have to go some time, unfortunately.”

“Dad, right before they pulled me away from him, he told me to tell you that he was sorry.” She turned to me, eyes looking sad but somewhat content. “And that he loves us...” I was prepared to hear something like that and it actually comforted me. I love my father, there’s no denying that, but every father and son have their quarrels.

“At least we can say goodbye to him together, I know he’s happy about that...”

She extends her hand and for a moment she just waits. I get the cue to give her my hand and this is the first time we’ve ever held hands. And in that very moment, something deep down inside of me came to the realization that I had a sister.

We say goodbye and drop the flowers together.

That was the last time we saw each other before that one dreaded night.

“Jin?…is that really you?”

She looked at me, her eyes so innocent, uncorrupted by the life I live.

“I’m sorry Y/N…I’m so sorry.”

‘Well, we’ll leave you guys to talk. See you later, baby.’ Jimin and Hoseok left the room.

“He was right…you are pretty.” I broke the silence and looked at her with a weak smile. “He wanted me to come and see you but I’d always say no…”

Jin shakes his head, settling to push those thoughts aside as he straightens his hair in the mirror, preparing to face the day looking his very best. The stunt he and Wei pulled went perfectly. Now everyone knows who killed Hakyeon and the fire isn’t under him anymore, but his guard is still very much up.

But there’s a lot of good in all of this. Jaebum has become an ally, quite an essential one at that. His enemies are closer then they’ve ever been and it’s just a matter of time before his plan becomes reality. He’s staying the night at one of his personal condos for reasons that are quite obvious, Wei needed a place where he and Jin could work closely with the details of the end goal. After the stunt they pulled, Wei won’t be able to show his face around there. But that’s a small price to pay to keep Jin’s name in the clear, just a little longer.

He tilts his head in thought, he needed to talk to you and tell you that you're coming with him when this is all done. But more importantly, he needs Jimin to fill him in. He’s Jin's eyes and ears right now, if he needs to know something about Hoseok, Yoongi, or even you, Jimin will know something. But oddly enough, Jimin hasn’t been answering his calls, his messages, nothing. He can’t imagine what that’s about, but he’ll have to worry about it later.

“Ready? Jin?” Wei knocked on the door.

“Yeah,” He opened the door, “let’s go.”

Wei nodded as Jin walked past him and down the small flight of stairs, off to one of the cars in the garage. Soon they were in their respective cars and on the road. After about fifteen minutes, Jin started to read through the messages about the plan on his phone and that’s when he decided he should call Wei.

Wei picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, make sure you talk to the rest of the guys and I’ll contact you throughout the day to update you. I’m going to meet with Jaebum for a little while to go over what we’re about to do.”

“Jin, what about the FBI situation? It’s been all over the news that they’re getting involved, do you think they suspect us?”

Jin sighs. “It’s not likely. They know we have something to do with it but they’ll never pinpoint it to me. When I sent Jimin off with a team to get Jungkook and my sister, they planted bombs there too and the building went up in flames. Two explosions, two gangs, they’re catching onto what’s happening. It’s only a matter of time before it all boils over and we’ll be at the forefront of it all.”

“I hope so, I’ll talk to you later.”

Jin makes a sound of agreement and hangs up.

After some time, he arrives at the lounge, gets out of the car, and makes his way inside. He’s not surprised to see that Jaebum is already here, anxiously waiting. His eyes drift over to Jin who steadily approaches him, confidence in every step he makes.

“Jin.”

Jaebum addresses him first, giving him a small bow.

“How was your drive down here? I know it’s a ways from your base.” Jin ushers a waitress over to get him something to drink.

“It was fine.” He lifts his glass, taking a much-needed sip before looking up at his senior.

“Good. Well, let’s get right into it, shall we?” Jin pulls a sheet of paper out of his blazer and places it flat on the table. “Yoongi and I haven’t been on the same page these days. I’ve made some decisions and choices for the greater good, but he doesn’t see it yet, he might not ever.”

“So, this is all you? Min doesn’t know anything about this?”

Jin shakes his head. “Oh God no, Yoongi and I aren’t on the same page right now. Anyways, did you send the last shipment?”

“Yes, I sent it last night, should arrive sometime today.”

Jin beams. “Perfect.”

“Can I ask, why do you need more? I mean, I thought you had access to sellers from all over.”

“Those purchases are tracked. If I buy from the black market, who knows what they’ll do with my receipts. Now getting supplies from you is untraceable, I have to be smart about this.”

“So, in your message, you said you want the shipment delivered by a third party, none of my men?”

“Exactly.”

Jaebum had wondered why Jin wanted him to be so hands-off about getting this stuff to him. Of course, he understands the need to stay off the grid. But he can’t help but wonder, why does Jin seem more interested in what he has—rather than Jaebum as an ally. But the thought crosses his mind as Jin explains more of the plan in the background of his internal monologue, I’m I being used?

“Wait, wait, why? Jin, it sounds like you want my material but not the help of my organization as a whole. My men, they’re smart, they know what it takes to get jobs done and it just seems like you’re overlooking that. What are you planning to do with the shipments?”

The air shifts.

Jaebum can tell by the way Jin rolls his shoulders and eyes darken.

“Does it matter?”

“Hell yeah, it matters. It’s my money, my resources, I should know what it’s being used for, shouldn’t I? I deserve to be front in center with this.”

Deserve?

“I hate to have to break this to you so soon, I thought we’d be able to keep up this little relationship for a little while longer but you’ve already made your opinions and what you believe you’re entitled to pretty clear...” He sighs, rubbing his chin in thought. “Jaebum, do you know who you are?”

“Of course I know who I am, what does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t think you really know who you are. Im Jaebum, son of one of the richest men in the city. You were born with a silver spoon up your ass and this life was handed to you, so don’t ever think that you did anything to get where you are. All the power you have, you did nothing to deserve it. The rest of us busted our asses trying to make it by, but you? You didn’t have to do shit. Yet, you bitch more than the whole mafia combined about shit that you don’t even really understand, and never will.” He scoffs, tone already past condescending. “And you blame me because my father had something to do with your father's death, do you know how pathetic that is?”

Jaebum stares at him completely caught off guard and quite frankly about to lose his cool. Did Jin really just pull a 180 and flip on him? He’s one of the many victims to fall prey to Jin’s betrayals.

“Oh yeah, and don’t think I forgot about you kidnapping my sister and torturing her aunt all just to get to me.” Jin seethes. “Do you know how fucking difficult it is to pretend to not care that you are the bastard who dragged her into this? You are the reason Yoongi traded her off to Namjoon and now she’s screwed for life. And even after you managed to send your people out to get her back, you still didn’t realize you had lost. You’re not essential to anyone Jaebum, especially not me. I just happened to need you for one reason, and now that I have what I need, I don’t really care what happens to you.” Jin stands to his feet.

Jaebum doesn’t even know how to respond, he looked like all the blood had left his face. He stands as well. “H- How dare you...How dare you speak to me like this! You come to ask for my resources and then disrespect me like- like-”

Jin cuts him off by pulling him forward by the upper arm. “You think you’re so deserving, it’s sickening...And that’s why nobody in this damn country will ever give you the respect you want.”

The only thing Im Jaebum has ever deserved is an ass whooping. He is one of the most well-off gang leaders in this city and it’s all inherited. Jin may have worked and learned from his father, but everything he has? He went out and got it himself, so did a majority of the other gangs in the country. Nobody deserved power less than Im Jaebum, that was a well-known fact.

By stating that he was entitled to anything Jin has worked for—it rubbed him the wrong way.

This mission has lasted a total of two years.

Two years of forming relationships, compiling information and evidence in the mafia world. He’s been the middle man between Min Yoongi and Kenneth Yu for years now and he’s received unprecedented amounts of money to do favors for both of them. And he’s done it. He’s kept bad people out of jail, he’s given Yoongi top secret files, there's so much that he’s done that could compromise his integrity. Junghyun is also a big part of this but Seo doesn’t have anything on him. He does have people giving him information but he can’t figure out who those people are. Junghyun is preparing to campaign for Kenneth's position as director of health and welfare. He wants him to find Jungkook, Seo has a good idea as to why.

“Okay...” He sighs, sipping his coffee in order to stay alert on this busy morning.

Seo walks out of his office and the police department cubicles are all filled with workers and cops are coming in and out.

“Officer Kim Suho, and officer Lee Donghae. Can you two come to my office please?” Seo caught the eye of both of them and they quickly dropped what they were doing to see what their chief needed.

“Yes, Chief?” Lee comes in first and Kim follows right behind.

“Close the door please.” Suho gives him an odd look but does it anyway. They both watch as Seo closes the blinds, that means whatever he’s about to tell them is important.

“What’s going on, Chief?”

“Listen, I’m telling you both this because I trust you two, you should know about this first,” Choi walks behind his desk and to his board, “before I let the whole Department know.”

Seo flips the board around and the two officers slowly approach it.

“Wh-” Lee furrows his brows, “What is this Chief?” He inspected all the papers and little bags pinned to the board. There are papers and Min Yoongi’s name is all over it, along with Kim Namjoon, Jeon Jungkook, Jeon Junghyun, Kenneth Yu—most of these names are familiar to him.

“The department is buzzing about the explosions in those gang territories, the FBI is now involved, and the mafia activity has been more rampant than ever.”

Officer Kim Suho reads over the first news article he sees, ‘Suspected Terrorist Attack?’ Then another, ‘Who Are The Masterminds Behind Attacks, Why Are They Still Slipping Through KPD’s Fingers?’ Then another, ‘Alleged Mafia Member on the Run From Seoul General Hospital.’ The articles go on and he diverts his gaze to Seo. ‘Cha Hakyeon, Drug Dealer, Found Fead in Apartment.’

“I know it’s said that we don’t have exact names, but I do. Min Yoongi, he’s the big baller. He’s been able to stay under the radar for the longest but I know him. For years now, I’ve been the middle man between him and the law. Min has money all throughout the system, there are people in high places that know him and fear the damage he could do if any of them were to test his hand. He’s a drug lord, yes, but he’s got his hands in a lot of places.”

“Chief, how does he trust you? You’re a cop.”

“I’ve proven myself. I’ve been able to get several of his men out of jail, keep him informed of the political activity that might affect him, and keep his name out of the media. I’ve done some risky things just to maintain that relationship...But it’s all worth it. Nobody knows this but me, but Kenneth Yu, director of Health & Welfare, is married to Yoongi’s mother. In order to keep her safe, Yoongi doesn’t interact with her or associate himself with her.”

The officers look askance.

“What?... Kenneth Yu is involved in this?”

“Min uses her as a threat to keep Yu from exposing him. And to keep Yu quiet, he’s been sending him money...Me as well. And I’m talking tens of thousands of dollars at a time, and I’ve kept every penny as evidence of bribery.”

Seo points to a picture on the board.

“Kim Namjoon, the arms dealer. He also dabbles in trafficking, larceny, extortion. The two of them used to be one group, they’re feuding right now and it’s getting worse. I can put a stop to it now. I’ve already filled in the FBI and they’re preparing for a STING operation. The debriefing for that is in a few minutes.”

The two officers are at a loss for words. The mafia has always made it difficult for the law to keep things in order. The gang's activity, the amount of contacts and inside people involved makes it almost overwhelming to deal with. After asking their fair share of questions before the officers are dismissed to resume their activities until the debriefing.

After a few minutes of getting his thought together, he takes a deep breath and walks out of his office.

Agents Song Mingi and Lisa Ban.

They’ve already called the men and women, both officers and agents, to the common meeting room and they’re caught up in a conversation with the other agents until they see Seo.

‘Chief, come on over!’ They wave him over, unintentionally bringing attention to the well-respected man's presence. As he walks up to the front, officers are bowing and greeting him as they always do.

“You’re right on time.” Seo shakes both of their hands. “Thank you both for coming, I really appreciate it. It’s not often that we have to arrange STING operations with you all for cases this big.”

“Absolutely, what we’re about to do will change the city and it’s all made possible by you, sir.” Agent Song states.

“Thank you, chief, for sacrificing your integrity for all these years for the sake of the people. You’re the reason we’ve been able to see what these guys are doing and continue to find ways to put a stop to it.” Lisa adds to the praise.

“Chief,” Agent Song reaches for the stack of files they brought in and handed it to Seo. “With what you’ve given us over the past few months, we’ve been able to develop profiles on some of these guys and we prepared files for all of them. You probably already know most of this stuff but having it on paper sometimes makes it easier.”

Seo sorts through them as the agents get everyone's attention. There are files for Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, Park Jimin, Cha Hakyeon, Jeon Jungkook, Jung Hoseok, Kim Taehyung, and Kim Seokjin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to Chief Seo, he's going to be running point on this operation. We owe Chief a great deal of appreciation for being able to infiltrate one of the most dangerous gangs in the city. The Chief will debrief you all.” Lisa gives Seo the floor. “Sir?”

“Thank you agent Ban.” He steps to the front and looks out at the crowd.

“Well, first I’d like to say that this has been a long process of forming relationships, bending rules, and compromising my position all for the sake of weeding out corruption for once and for all. Our plan is to take down gang leaders,” He takes out mugshot-like photos of the leaders and pins them to the board.

“Kim Namjoon and Min Yoongi. Their groups have been feuding for months, that explains those two explosions. The first was orchestrated by Kim on an abandoned compound but the second was an attack from Min’s side, I believe out of retaliation. Kim’s men are on the run but Min is still in the city, we need to bring him in first. Many of you may know Kenneth Yu, Director of Health & Welfare. I have been the middle man between him and Min, his stepson.”

The room is filled with shocked faces and low murmurs of disbelief.

“I’ve accepted large sums of money as bribery to stay quiet, so has Kenneth Yu. In fact, he’s been sending portions of rally funds, charity events, and government events to Min for years now. He uses their relationship to threaten him more than anything. If it got out that his stepson is a mafia boss who he’s done favors for and accepted money from he’d lose his position in minutes. Before we go after Min, we’ll go after him first. We need to get into his office and see what he has.” Seo pauses, deciding to add all of the photos to the board. “As for Kim Namjoon, most of his men have fled the city but I have a feeling they’ll be back. Are there any questions?”

Multiple people raise their hands and ask questions about the relationship with Min Yoongi, Kenneth Yu, how the feuding started with Kim Namjoon. Seo answers as he sorts through the last few files and stumbles upon a blank one. He continues to talk, but he opens the file and it’s a photo of a question mark. Unnamed female, early twenties, hospitalized after a car accident with Jeon Jungkook but vanished shortly after.

One of the agents taking notes in the back pipes up. “What about Jeon Jungkook, sir? Since he broke out of the hospital, nobody has been able to get a hold of him. It’s all over the media that he escaped, where is he now?”

“We’re not quite sure yet, but most probably where ever Kim Namjoon is located.” Seo puts the anonymous female on the board and immediately agent Song raises a question.

“Chief, do we have any idea who that might be? We tried everything to find out who she is but we only got little things, it’s like she’s been wiped off the grid.”

“That woman...” He sighs. “I don’t know if she’s the same one, but I believe I’ve seen her with Min Yoongi.”

“Do you think she’s a threat?”

“No, but we’ll look into it, just to make sure.”

Agent Ban comes over with a few agents and officer. “Chief, this is the group that’ll take care of Yu. I’ll leave the organizing of the operation to you.”

“Alright, when do you plan on going in?”

“Within the hour.”

That’s faster than he thought.

“Okay, report to me when the job is done.” Seo dismisses her and she’s off with her team.

“Chief,” Officer Lee calls for him, hand over the bottom of the phone that’s to his ear, “we just got an anonymous tip.”

“About?”

“It’s about Kim Seokjin, he’s supposedly planning a rendezvous at Min’s compound tonight. I thought they were on the same team, should we trust this?”

“Did you track the number?”

“Yeah, nothing. But the guy said he just wanted to make things right, he went on about getting rid of those who shouldn’t be in this city...”

“It’s worth a shot, we’ll get to them either way.” Seo makes his way to one of the head officers. “Gather unit 2 and 7, we’ll head to the compound at 9 tonight.”

Namjoon swats at the back of Taehyungs head.

“You had one job, one job Tae.”

The papers Namjoons is referring to are the papers Yoongi gets from the court hearings, political meetings, and basically any of the details of his governmental relationships. Yoongi keeps them hidden somewhere and he thought, of all people, Taehyung could find them. But that was a month ago and at this rate, they’ll never get it.

“How many times do I have to say sorry, hyung? I’m sorry, I told you something came up,” Taehyung soothes the back of his head with a gentle ruffle of his hair. “Park Jimin that is. He saw me come through the window and he was fussing about getting me out of there, what was I supposed to do?”

“I get that, but still. Yoongi’s got a ton of inside contracts with those guys and if we’re gonna do this right, it would be nice to have that type of info on him.” Namjoon stands at the table in the basement where he was steadily taking account of the remaining firearms, salvaged from his beloved base that was burnt to ash.

“Jungkook should’ve gone with me, probably would’ve taken care of the Jimin-problem.” he pouts, but they all know that if Jungkook went, and saw you, he’d try to bring you back. And that would only fuel that psychopaths desire to demolish Jungkook for loving you. Namjoon mentally recalls the distress Jungkook experienced once you two were separated, he hadn’t seen him that sad since his mother left him. Jungkook isn’t mentally ready to be in the same vicinity as Yoongi, Jin, and you—that would be a deadly combination.

“He can’t be over there, it’s way too risky. If he decides he wants to take her from their base, that’ll make him an even bigger target then he already is. He’s wanted and Jin, quite frankly, wants to kill him.”

“We will need her back soon though, she’s become essential to Jungkook’s wellbeing and Jin’s insanity.” Namjoon doesn’t further explain his views but Taehyung gets the gist of it. You are the main element of the great divide. Without you, Jin would be way less high-strung, he wouldn’t be so revenge-hungry, but adding you to the mix ignited a flame in Jin. And that tickled Namjoon pink.

Jungkook enters the basement suddenly, all suited up and ready for the day. He’s dressed in a black tee-shirt, charcoal-colored bomber jacket, and heavy boots.

‘Speak of the devil.’ Namjoon simpers but Jungkook either doesn’t hear the comment or simply ignores it.

“Hyung, what’s on my agenda today?” Jungkook’s eyes are focused, but he seems somewhat relaxed. “I thought you would’ve given me my assignment last night.”

“I don’t have anything for you, the best for you to do right now is to stay hidden, we can’t risk exposing you.” Namjoon pats Jungkook shoulder.

“What? You just want me to sit around and do nothing?” He grimaces, getting close to Namjoon’s personal space. “Fuck no, I need to do something, I can’t just sit here.”

“Well,” Namjoon turns to him, unphased by the brittle tone in his voice. “I’m sorry, but you need to lay low for a little while.” Namjoon takes a bit of a firmer tone, and they stare at each other for a few seconds. Jungkook is the first to break it off.

“Fine.”

Namjoon turns to continue his conversation with Taehyung and Jungkook turns a deaf ear to it. He walks over to a corner and slouches in a seat, arms crossed and expression agitated.

“Let’s just scratch that old idea, he probably doesn’t have them anyway.” Namjoon sighs. “Jimin’s probably already told Yoongi so the papers are either under lock & key or he got rid of them, like last time.” He tilts his head in thought.

“Boys,” Namjoon looks back at Jungkook and then looks at Taehyung with a bright smile, “we’re going back to the basics, a classic raid seems to be the answer here.” They haven’t done one of those in a while, it’d be nice to do it like they did back in the day. “We’ll prepare our people, pick a time and go in tonight. If I don’t get to have a base, neither does he.”

“So soon?” Tae interjects.

“Yeah, why not? We don’t have much to lose at this point.”

Jungkook brows creased as if he weren’t fond of the idea and of course Namjoon knows immediately what that face means. “A raid? But-”

“Jungkook, Jin has Y/n under high security right now, I’m sure she won’t be in the crossfire.”

“Um,” Taehyung interjects, knowing what he’s about to say will surely make Jungkook upset, he giggles, “I wouldn’t call Jimin, ‘high security.’“

Namjoon can’t help but laugh. “What?”

“Yeah, I snuck in on the living quarter's and there he was. Jin can’t be that concerned about her safety, not if Jimin is always with her.” Taehyung pouts, perplexed to see that Jungkook didn’t even bat an eyelash at his statement.

“My suspicions were correct then.” Namjoon shifts to the other side of the table to tally up the last few sets of revolvers.

“Jin’s been off doing his own thing for a while now. But you’d think he’d have his little sister at least in the vicinity with him, right? Especially after going through all of that just to get her back...” He takes the completed register and tucks it in the beige folder. “I’m confused-”

“He doesn’t fucking care about her.” Jungkook pensively got up to approach the two. “This whole, ‘your big brother is here to save you,’ thing is an act. He doesn’t want her to be with me, that’s why he took her, not because of brotherly love. He doesn’t give a fuck about her, he just wants to look like he’s capable.” Jungkook prods at his cheek in annoyance.

“And you know that, how? Jungkook, you didn’t know even know there were brother and sister until just recently—how could you know if he cared about her? You don’t know that-”

“Yes, I do!” Jungkook slams a fist on the table but they're unstartled by the little outburst.

“Fuck! How do you not see it?! He doesn’t want her to be with me, that’s his fucking deal. He wouldn’t give her the time of day until he realized who she was with.” He gets closer to Namjoon, eyes beady, vicious and unsettling. Oddly, Namjoon looks at him as if this type of behavior is a part of their normal everyday conversations.

”He knows I love her, and he hates me for it. He parades around like she means so much to him, she means more to me than she ever will to him. I’m sick of sitting here and pretending like just because she’s with him, she’s safe, that’s not the case. I can’t fucking take it, if I have to go one more week without her I think I’m gonna fucking lose my mind.” Jungkook rambles on, pacing and spouting whatever thoughts come to his mind so Namjoon figured now would be a good time to cut this off.

Jungkook grits his teeth. “And if it wasn’t for fucking Min Yoongi-”

“Stop. You need to take it down a notch.” Namjoon’s voice is low but demanding of submission, of which Jungkook gives in a mere few seconds.

“You don’t know everything so stop fabricating these scenarios in your head. Use your head and think about this, why do you think I fucking took her in the first place, Jungkook? To piss him off. They may not be close, but she’s his only known his flesh and blood right now, he does care, even if it’s only for her life, that’s enough to use against him.” Jungkook backs down from his aggressive stance, diverts his gaze reluctantly. Namjoon would have a sensible explanation for this, wouldn’t he? Jungkook got so caught up in the idea that this is all a tactic to hurt him that he forgot that this is a lot bigger than his relationship.

“Don’t misunderstand, I do need her back with us. She’s what I use to hurt him, at least I thought that up until now. Either way, Jin knows what he did fucked us all over and Yoongi doesn’t seem to be taking any disciplinary action.” He walks up to the stairs and the two follow closely behind him. “So now it’s time for us to take action.”

Jungkook leaves the two of them without a word, most probably to sharpen some knives in the room or work out, something to take his mind off of things.

“Tae, you know what you need to do, just report back to me as soon as possible. As for Jungkook,” Namjoon sighs, “tell him not to leave the premises, and that if I hear he tries to go out, he can forget about being apart of the raid.” Namjoon heads off to do his own thing and Tae trails off to Jungkook’s bedroom. Taehyung entered the bedroom and Jungkook was sitting on the floor, a dozen daggers on the floor in front of him as he takes out the tools to sharpen and clean them.

“Jungkook,” Jungkook shoots him an uninterested glance. “how do you know that Jin and his sister are fighting?”

“What?”

“You said they were fighting. You haven’t seen her for weeks now, how could you know if they were fighting or not?”

He swallows, avoiding eye-contact. “I just know.”

“But you’ve never even seen them interact, you don’t know the temperament of their relationship.” The more Taehyung pries, the more Jungkook’s face twists in irritation. “You went to see her...Didn’t you?”

It’s obvious in his eyes, no sense in hiding it.

“Yeah, I did...”

“How did that go?”

“She doesn’t want to be there. You should see her, she’s not as healthy as she was, it’s obvious that she’s not eating...I don’t know where her head is, it’s like she’s there but she’s missing something...God, I want her back so bad. I can tell Jimin is getting in her head too, she was going on about how he helps her in difficult times and all that, it makes me crazy to think that she’s always alone with him...I didn’t want to upset her because she’s been through a lot but I asked her if anyone touched her, she didn’t really answer...” Jungkook’s tone was heavy with concern.

“Jungkook, I wasn’t going to say anything but-...Well,” Taehyung bites his tongue. “when I got there, Jimin was leaving her room. Out of curiosity, I asked him if he feels something for her, he said no but-...I don’t know, Jimin falls back into those pathological liar tendencies every now and then. And he savors intimacy, with most women...”

Jungkook’s stomach twisted.

“He fucking wouldn’t. Not unless he wants me to kill him, he wouldn’t touch her.”

“How can you be so sure?” Tae pries.

Jungkook snaps. “He’s the one who brought her to me.”

Early this morning, Junghyun bid his wife farewell, pulled out of the driveway of his beautiful home, and went on his way to work. If you look at Junghyun’s life compared to his little brother, he lives quite a wholesome lifestyle. He has a beautiful wife, an adorable set of 6-year-old twins, a great job, and a nice home—what more could he want? You’d be surprised.

It’s around lunch time and he’s going to meet with a special person. He pulled out his reserved parking spot in the hospitals private parking garage. It’s been a while since he’s heard from Seo about Jungkook but he knows he’s still wanted. It was odd though. He personally asked Seo to find Jungkook for him but he’s suspected that his request wasn’t a priority right now.

As soon as he stopped at a red light, he sat down and made a phone call. It rang for a few seconds before he finally picked it up.

“Dr. Jeon, good morning.”

“Good morning Donghae, any updates?”

“Chief Seo gathered us all for a debriefing this morning, he said Jungkook is most probably with Kim Namjoon.”

“Damn, I guess I can forget about getting him back. He sees that man as more of an older brother than me...It’s fine, I’ll try to contact him eventually. I heard from a reliable source that something bad is about to happen, he’s probably involved in it.”

“Yeah, I’m actually apart of the STING operation of his rival gangs compound, he might be there.”

“Oh really?” Junghyun grins, turning his wheel into the restaurant parking lot. “Perfect, let me know everything after it happens.”

“Will do, I’ll talk to you tonight.”

He hangs up just in time for Junghyun to head inside of one of his favorite lunch places. When he walks inside, he immediately sees her sitting at a table near the window and smiles. She grew out her hair he noticed, she looked beautiful, healthy, and her overall aura was glowy.

When she looks up and sees him, she smiles from ear-to-ear.

“Junghyun.” She stands to her feet and walks toward him. “How are you, honey?” She wraps her arms around him and he returns her adorably light embrace compared to his.

“I’m fine Eomma,” He pulls away, “you look beautiful.”

They both take a seat. “Thank you, sweetie. This is so nice, I haven’t been able to just sit and talk with you for a little while.” A waitress kindly brings them ice water and lunch menus. It doesn't take them long to choose their dishes so they order it right before the waitress leaves.

“How are my grandbaby’s doing? Does Joy still look like me?”

“Every day, and Jungwoo? You wouldn’t believe how much he’s starting to favor Jungkook.” Junghyun sips his water, eyes skimming the wine menu. “It’s crazy

He expression saddens a bit at the mention his Jungkook, and he notices. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I-...I haven’t heard from him in a long time...I miss him.”

“I actually saw him not too long ago, he came to the hospital.”

Her eyes widen. “Really? Was he hurt?”

“He was in a car accident, with a girl.” He sighs, remembering how well that meeting went.

“A girl?” She can’t help the smile coming to her face. “Oh my goodness...He has a girlfriend?”

“He told me that he’s not telling me anything about her so I assume that she was his significant other.” He scoffs.

“Aw, that’s sweet...” She lowers her head, mind wandering off into dreamland as she wonders who fell in love with her son. She sighs. “So, um, hows your campaign going?”

“It’s great, I really think I have a shot at the position. I have a feeling that-...” He takes a bite of food, eyes finding the news channel on the TV in the background. His mother looks back too upon his sudden silence.

‘Early this morning, adored political figure and Director of Health & Welfare Kenneth Yu, has been theorized to be in cohorts with leaders from the mafia world. It’s not yet been confirmed, but It’s speculated that he has been receiving and sending money from these groups. We will be updating this story every hour so stay tuned.’

One down.

To be continued...

252 notes · View notes

wannawrite · 5 years

Text

serendipity 🌨️ (三）

[ 君を守りたくて涙に変わる前にもう一度. ]

I want to hold you once more before you melt into tears.

group: seventeen

member: joshua hong

genre: a surprise :)

others: italics = thoughts, josh and vern speaking in English

sorry for the long wait friends, Japan gave me so much inspiration !!

forgive me, the story only gets better at the end because I improved a lot so this was prewritten and continued again a lot later on !!

___________________________

“No one?”

You nodded firmly, as the teacher gave you a glance of disdain through her pink framed glasses. Her eyebrows raised haughtily as she quickly looked back to her worksheets, flipping through them casually-as if you didn't matter anymore. At her acts of defiance, you cursed her under your breath. Standing alone at the teacher’s table stupidly just seemed to enlarge your figure in the crowd of the class, bringing the sunlight to all the flaws engraved stubbornly onto your face.

You didn't understand why the school needed to hire such sadistic teachers, and inwardly, you cursed the school too under your breath. You could already feel the gazes of all the students seated behind you thrust into your back like spears, one by one. Maybe this was what they meant when they wanted to teach all of you to be ‘confident and cultured students’.

Finally, the teacher looked up, her gaze still bored and tired under her heavy bags and wrinkles. What a mood.

“Go partner the new kid.” her despairing monotone drawled out, in her absolutely enchanting, seductive Daegu satoori.

But that wasn’t really the thing you were most concerned about right now.

Involuntarily, your eyes widened, and you could feel everything that you had painstakingly built up raze to the bottomless of your heart as the teacher called out Joshua’s name, which included that non existent good mood you had while (reluctantly) getting back your maths results two hours ago.

“Oh, you’re Hansol’s friend, right? You seem very shy, let’s get along well together.” his sweet, slightly American accentuated Korean made an entrance smoothly, the sort of voice you wouldn't mind cutting into all of your conversations.

That was when you realised, that Joshua was someone you really wanted to be close to-like getting as close to the fire as you could without touching it.

You sighed.

“Sure.” you tried for a smile to maintain a certain level of politeness (and to not feel so shitty about your already dying reputation) as you followed the tall figure with soft, slightly overgrown raven locks back to his desk.

This was undeniably, the epitome of sadistic.

___________________________________________

“Hey, don’t look so tense, I won’t actually bite.” the boyish, balmy voice purred into your senses again, caressing your ears gently yet magically, making you jump and look to his beautiful face yet again. It seemed to work like a charm-you kicked yourself inside when you realised that Joshua’s every action had you firmly wrapped around his finger...

“R-Right.” you managed, following up with a small, coy cough-you had to give him an answer at some point, to mask your big, protruding girl crush on him. The small lift of his eyebrow, the twitch of his lips when he saw that you were incredibly shy around him was a confusing mix of attractive and unnerving to look at.

Why can’t I just talk to him, who’s a normal human being like me...

Subsequently, a new voice came into the scene.

“Ayyyy, Josh, what did you do to my friend? She looks so scared, I’ll hog the PC room all to myself if you keep disturbing her.” a teasing, laid-back voice rolled out the English language smoothly as the hint of a brown curl plunged into your vision before jumping up again and clambering over to Joshua’s side. You died inside for the umpteenth time today as Hansol shot you a cheeky, knowing wink-if he told Joshua even an inkling about your feelings towards him, you’d probably harp on it for the rest of your life.

“Nothing? Maybe she’s just shy, I don’t know...dude, you know her better, do something. I can’t do social situations.” A helpless reply came from Joshua's mouth fast and painful, seeping out all the effervescence from his vibrant, yet gentle demeanour.

You sighed. Not being able to gather yourself in front of him, seemed to be way worse than talking to him directly.

"I-I can talk, you know." you managed awkwardly, barely meeting his eyes as the language that your tongue had conquered your whole life turned to gibberish in front of a beautiful boy.

At this, Joshua broke into a casual, yet such enchanting smile-looking just like a prince as the sun skated across his features like the most shining, elegant masterpiece in the world. You tried to focus on the now, but he was incredibly distracting.

"It's okay." he said politely, turning to you, "Everyone gets shy sometimes, right? I’m sure we’ll get along well, I can see that you know a lot about me already.”

At this, Joshua’s gently bridged kitten eyes shot you a small, seemingly chaste wink which had in fact, thrust right through your heart like an arrow, and realising that you probably looked like the most uncontrolled mess for the umpteenth time today, you tried to articulate your words properly.

“Y-Yeah. You’re actually, I don’t know, my favourite trainee?” Crap, wrong thing to say. The words coming out of your mouth slapped you in the face hard, stringing in a small trail of regret. To your surprise, instead of cringing Joshua laughed softly, yet somehow wholeheartedly before the table legs contrastingly, echoed out the most deafening screech as you felt the bit of wood press into your stomach area.

He had stood up from the chair, leaning in at just the perfect distance and striking the perfect balance between curiosity and suggestiveness, and that’s when the sun slicing through his ashy bangs dawned the truth on you yet again-that Joshua’s whole being exuded such a gentle, caressing aura. Tangible to your eyes, yet so intangible to your feelings-from the way his eyes fluttered gently yet quickly like butterflies in a secret garden, from the way he treated you with such gentleness yet tore your heart apart.

Just then, in all his beauty, you felt your soul surface onto the tip of your tongue as his deeply dimpled lips mouthed these words.

“I want to know more about you.”

The whole world stopped for a while.

Your speech went into a momental rut, as you stared awkwardly and embarrassedly at his features.

“You know? Since you know so much about me, I’m curious about you, too.” his innocent voice pushed forth your consciousness from its transit stop as you snapped back into reality.

You looked at his smile briefly before shutting down any forms of attraction towards him, and gulped down your feelings before opening your mouth.

“I-”

“So, after school today? At 2?”

His gentle, merry lips had lifted into a sunny smile, coincidentally in the shape of a long, angled up feather-just as gentle as he was.

At this, you blushed before nodding vigorously,

“S-Sure.”

His smile got wider.

“See you then!”

With that, Joshua left the room with his wallet casually, and the world came back into your orbit. Hansol was gone, so had the math teacher and practically the rest of the class, which had seemed so annoyingly insignificant in comparison to the boy you loved.

Then, as your consciousness slowly surfaced back into your memory, you realised-your cousin would be coming today, and if it was for a school project, you’d have little to no time to spend with her...

But you thought back to Joshua’s pleading gaze, and you sighed.

There was no way you were saying no to that smile.

__________________________

to prepare the blog for my long desert era LOL I'm sorry this took way longer than it should have :(

also day6′s cb is such a bop PLEASE STREAM DAYS GONE BY my boys really deserve it ^^

I hope I captured the feeling here well!! the reason why the descriptions on joshie’s features are so excessive because thats how you feel when you crush on someone la HHAHAHA like somehow you just start noticing everything small and insignificant about that, so I apologise if the story didn't flow so well because of that :( I REALLY tend to notice all these things about Joshua’s beautiful personality though (esp as he was my ult of ults last year so yes I am still low-key whipped HAHAAHA)

ill be growing spiritually the next few days and going to hk, idk if I can update overseas but ill see again!! love yall, thanks for reading and supporting!!

ps suNGJINS VOCALS MADE ME WANT TO CRY UGHGJSJDGSH

#admin n #joshua hong #joshua hong jisoo #seventeen scenarios #seventeen joshua #hong jisoo #seventeen

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eds-kas · 6 years

Text

The Days of Richie Tozier’s Life

Summary: Some days of Richie’s life had been better than others. Some days he had been happy, whole and most importantly, he’d had Eddie. Other days were worse. Days like the one where Mike had called, or the day when Richie would have to go back to Derry and lose the love of his life.

Words: 1700

A/N: I’m suffering from a great writer’s block with my other work Obliviate. So here, have your heart broken. Sorry not sorry.

—

One day in Richie Tozier’s life he made a friend. It was a small boy with freckles across his face and an inhaler was almost always in his hand. He never touched anything that could have the slightest germ on it, he had two fanny packs and he missed school a lot because his mother said he was always sick. He hated being called nicknames and he had the most heated temperament. But Richie loved Eddie.

One day he saw his mother passed out on the sofa with a bottle clutched to her hand. It hadn’t been the first time nor would it be the last. As Richie watched his mother sleep, very familiar voices spoke to him in his head. They told him he was useless and unwanted and Richie shut his eyes closed and pressed his hands to his ears as if that would make it stop. It didn’t. So he slipped into his shoes and hopped on his bike. That was one of many nights he spent with Eddie.

One day he fought a clown in the sewers. It had been one of the worst days of Richie’s life. Though he would come to forget it, it would always haunt him. His nightmares would always be haunted by a clown, screams and you’ll float too. That day had he made a promise. He had promised to come back to Derry if It returned.

One day he looked at his best friend and he couldn’t look away. Richie found himself staring into Eddie’s eyes and had he always been so beautiful? Richie’s heart had started to speed when they accidentally brushed their arms or hands together and when Eddie smiled the world around him spun. Nights he had climbed through Eddie’s window started to have a new meaning. It wasn’t because he couldn’t stand being at home anymore, now it was because he couldn’t stand sleeping alone. He craved Eddie. But it would take a year before he actually did something about it.

One day he finally kissed Eddie. Well, Eddie had kissed him. Richie had climbed through Eddie’s window just moments earlier, with the wind still in his hair after the bike ride to Eddie’s house. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest he knew Eddie must have heard it. Eddie had asked if he was okay, and of course he was okay! As long as Richie was with Eddie he’d be okay. More than okay. And so he told him. And he also told him how he felt. Richie told Eddie how much he meant to him, how heartbreakingly beautiful he was, how he absolutely adored him and how he couldn’t go any second longer without not knowing how Eddie’s lips would feel like on his own. And he didn’t have to, because Eddie had wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck and they kissed each other like it was their first grasp for air after being under water for years.

One day he left Derry and Eddie left with him. They had applied to the same collage because nothing could separate them. It was the two of them against the world. They functioned as one. Neither of them had been happier, they were finally together and no one could stop them. Well, at least for a few years.

One day he graduated from collage and he had a really successful radio show. Richie and Eddie moved to a bigger apartment; now Eddie had his own office where he could do Professor-y stuff in and Richie had his own office too so he could send radio from home. Eddie would sit in another room and listen to Richie’s show and Richie would hear him laugh through the wall. Richie loved his life with Eddie.

One day he asked Eddie to marry him. And Eddie said yes. Of course he did. Richie had cooked Eddie’s favorite for dinner and then he had carried Eddie bridal-style to their bedroom. He had looked deeply into Eddie’s eyes and told him exactly how much he loved him. And boy did he love Eddie much. Eddie was in tears and Richie too, and then he had fallen down onto one knee and before he even could say anything Eddie practically attacked Richie. He wrapped his arms around his neck and they ended up on the floor and Eddie said yes over and over and over again. And they fell more in love for every day.

One day he got a phone call. Richie didn’t recognize the voice on the other end at first, but when the voiced introduced himself as Mike from Derry it all came back to him. The clown, the sewers, the fear, Eddie look at me! I gonna snap your arm into place! And the promise. The promise to come back and fight It if it ever returned. He was scared. He was scared to death but he wouldn’t break the promise. That night he and Eddie had fallen asleep in each others arms. They clung onto each other as tight as it was humanly possible. They held on for dear life, terrified what would happen. Broken sobs had been the only sound heard in the Tozier-Kaspbrak residence.

One day he was back in Derry and Richie finally met the friends he once had grown so close to but later had forgotten. And that was the day his life would change. Richie watched how the love of his life got split in two. And so did Richie’s soul too. He had never felt more broken than in that moment. ”Eds… Please”. ”Richie.” ”What?” ”Don’t call me Eds… You know I… I love you so much. Don’t forget about me.” And with that Eddie took his last breath and Richie’s heart crushed to thousand pieces and it would never be whole again. Richie promised he would never forget him. But overtime, he would.

One day he came home to an empty apartment. The loneliness screamed at him and Richie couldn’t bare it. He screamed, he cried, he threw things to the wall and watched as they broke. Eddie was gone, he would never come back to him and Richie. Could. Not. Take. It. He lowered his head and looked down at the ring he wore on his finger, his vision blurry of tears. Suddenly he felt panic growing inside of him. He needed it off. He couldn’t stand to look at it. He threw it away, screaming in pain. Richie Tozier was broken and he would never heal.

One day he started to forget. He would break the promise he had made to never forget the only person that mattered in his life. And he couldn’t do anything to stop it. It was the curse of Derry. But even though he forgot, the pain would always live with him. A pain he never understood why he felt.

One day he moved out of his apartment. He never understood why he had wanted to live in a apartment that big when he always had lived on his own. When he moved the bed he saw something silver glimmering on the floor. Richie picked up a ring he couldn’t understand had ended up behind his bed. ”Forever yours” was engraved on the inside and the hole that had grown inside Richie over the past years grew a little bit bigger. It was a hole caused by something he didn’t remember. But he knew he hadn’t been this lonely his whole life. He could feel that there had been someone in his life, but he didn’t know who and he didn’t remember anything of them. But it was a feeling deep inside of him that would come up to the surface every once in awhile. This was one of those times. Richie put the ring on his finger and the feeling of it felt familiar. Like it was meant to be on his finger. So he let it be there until the day he would die.

One day he laid in his bed. He glanced down at his hand, wrinkled by the years that had gone by, and watched the silver ring on his fourth finger. Richie had never settled down with someone during his eighty-seven years on Earth, because he couldn’t let go of the feeling that there’d been someone else. And the pain had never left him. He had spent his last half of his life alone and he welcomed this day more than anything. Finally the pain would go away.

One day he would be reunited with someone he had forgotten. Richie opened his eyes and he felt different. There was no pain in him anymore. There was no hole. His heart was one piece. Richie’s chest was filled with happiness and the feeling was almost foreign to him after all the years of never being happy. But he was now. And he also felt alive. There was an energy inside him that he hadn’t felt since he was in his twenties, and when he looked down at his hands he couldn’t see any wrinkles. He was young again. A voice made him snap his head up. It was a voice he had forgotten but hearing it now brought everything back to him. He would recognize that voice anywhere. His voice. Richie turned around and there he was. Young, whole, alive, glowing and so beautiful. They stared into each others eyes for what could have been one minute or one year, Richie didn’t know because there was no such thing as time in this place. That day was the day that would never end. A laugh escaped Eddie’s mouth and that broke the spell. Richie sprinted to Eddie, lifted him up and spun him around, and they laughed. They laughed like they’d never been happier. Richie put Eddie down and they looked so deep into each others eyes they could almost see the other’s soul. ”I love you too. I never got to say it back.”

#I know #im crying too #reddie #Eddie Kaspbrak #Richie Tozier #it 2017 #it #it movie #reddie fanfic #i write #i-write

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kivrinengle · 7 years

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One for Sorrow

one for sorrow

Sorrow is too small a word for it - for the tragedy that devours his family in one terrible night, leaving only Percival, the last sad remnant of what had once been a family. Tragedy, they call it, in hushed whispers: so sad, what happened to those poor people. Sorrow is an insult, a thing too small to stand in the face of murder and destruction and the end of the world.

But sorrow is a beast with teeth of iron, and they rip at his mind and his soul until there is little left of humanity or even sanity. It screams in his head, echoes of all that he has lost - family, home, safety, future - until all that is left is Percy, last sad remnant of what had once been a person. Sometimes, he is not even certain that much remains.

two for mirth

It strikes him, as he is dragged away from his target by armed guards, that this is probably exactly how his family would have expected his attempt at revenge to go. There had always been a fond, gentle mockery of his tendency to mess things up because he was so deeply buried in his studies or his work. He had been known to walk into walls or fall into ingenious practical jokes set by his younger siblings. Mother would have shaken her head, hiding a smile, and Father would have taken him aside for a quick speech on the need to keep a clear focus on the things that were in front of him. They wouldn’t have been surprised by his latest failure.

It is simply typical of him, he muses, strangely absent from himself as he is unceremoniously hauled toward a building that can only be a prison. And that is a startling reassurance, and one that he had not even looked for - that something of who he was Before has survived.

He laughs at that - a bitter, broken thing, creaking with disuse. He has not laughed in months - years - decades? - not since the end of his world. There is nothing amusing in any of it. There might be nothing amusing left in all of Exandria. But Percy laughs, and thinks it is possible that he might still exist.

three for a death

He has seen so much death that sometimes he is not sure he will ever get the smell of it out of his nostrils. He has been up close and personal with death several times since the first time it came calling, and he imagines he is now immune to it. The deaths of sailors at sea had never broken through the fog that surrounded him - not the almost-friend who fell overboard in a storm, nor the cook, dying slowly of infection from a bad burn. Even the sudden, sharp loss of a tiny cabin boy who ought never to have been aloft passed over him like mist before the bow of a ship, and he breathed through it and felt nothing. Death had come too close, and bore him no terrors, now.

Or so he thinks.

But there is a cat in the dank prison into which he is thrown, and somehow, Percy becomes almost fond of the battered old thing. It creeps through the bars of his cell to attend to the vermin, and sometimes he wakes from fitful slumber to find it curled up against him, the one spot of warmth against the chill of stone and iron chains. He hardly remembers warmth or softness. The rumble of the cat’s purr does something inside his chest, and Percy finds himself saving bits from his horrid rations to try and tempt the cat back, to ensure one more moment of warmth and connection.

And when he wakes one bitter morning to find the old cat curled up in his lap, cold and still, Percy realizes that Death is not through with him. He pets the tiny, stiff corpse with absent fingers, and lets the tears spill down his cheeks. He wouldn’t mind if death came for him now, but for the revenge he had promised himself on his family’s murderers. He is not afraid of it.

He still weeps.

four for a birth

Percy had been almost present at the births of all of his younger siblings. He had waited a few rooms away, keeping pace with his father’s anxious pacing, and had gone away and made pompous notes in his pompous diary about the event after the fact. The only birth he did not remember was his own - which was as it should be, of course. No-one ought to remember their own birth.

He prayed, in the end, in that prison cell - for something, anything, to give him guidance, to show him a way forward. Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III had never held with deities, or faith in anything other than what he could see and touch. The shattered fragment that remains of him is no longer certain of anything, and addresses a prayer to parties unknown.

Something happens.

His new life rushes in on him before he is prepared for it, all violence and blood and noise and chaos. He seems to find himself yanked from the familiar surroundings of his cell with hardly more than a word (though that seems unlikely, when he thinks back on it later. His new companions never do anything without talking it over to the point of absurdity.) A huge, terrifying someone claps him hard on the back, knocking him to his knees as his legs tremble from hunger and disuse, and someone else pulls him back up and urges him forward, wrapping a warm cloak around his shoulders.

“Don’t worry,” one of the newcomers says soothingly. “It’s all much worse than it seems. You’ll be regretting meeting us in no time.”

And Percy is dragged forward into a new life, a new family, in the strangest sort of rebirth that he could imagine. He hates to imagine which of the deities might be responsible.

five for silver

“Yes, you’ve explained about the weapon,” one of the dark-haired twins tells him patiently, some time after they’ve escaped his prison. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. He’s better now, truly he is, but he still loses time, or finds himself in places without knowing how he got there. It’s not his biggest problem. “We get it. It’s very important, and we shouldn’t touch. But you’re not answering the question.”

The other one pops up, and Percy spends some time wondering if this is, perhaps, his mind playing tricks on him. That happens sometimes, too. Are there really two of them? “Yes, darling,” this one says, more wariness than warmth in the tone. “We’re not asking anything difficult - just your name.”

They have no idea how difficult that is. His name was something, once - almost something of importance. Now, it is the only thing of value he has left. He is likely the only person remaining in the world who even knows it. He’d gone by something on the ship - not his real name, he knows - but he cannot remember what it had been. It hadn’t mattered.

His hand slips to the weapon at his side, finger tracing over the names engraved in five of the six barrels. Names have power, he knows; he doesn’t trust any of these people.

A tiny figure is by his side when he blinks his way back from thought, and the face of the little gnome is serious. She doesn’t try to touch him. He appreciates that.

“You don’t need to give us anything,” she murmurs, the words almost lost in the chatter of the group. “Not if it matters to you. But we kind of need something to call you.”

“I could name ‘im,” the goliath puts in cheerfully. “I’m really good at names.” The gnome gives Percy a wide-eyed look that tells him he doesn’t want to take the goliath up on this offer.

Percy stands up, not without effort, and wanders across the campsite. They all give him space, watching him warily; they do not know what they have brought into their midst. He makes his way slowly to the nearby stream, lowering himself to his knees at it’s edge. He feels like an old man these days, battered by a weary life. As he leans over the water, still and clear here in a tiny pool that has collected by one bank, he doesn’t know the face that looks back at him.

His hair is a singular shock of silver, standing up at odd angles, looking nothing like the boy who had stared at him from his mirror back at Whitestone so many years before. He hadn’t seen his reflection much since; had gotten good at shaving without benefit of a mirror aboard ship, like the other sailors. The pale, silvery ghost who looked up at him from the water looked right, though. This was what the last survivor of Whitestone ought to look like.

But he didn’t look like Percival.

“Just-” he muttered, shaking his head when he realized several of the group were standing around staring at him again. He’d probably lost time again, off in his own head while his hands shook and his body stayed frozen. “Just call me Percy.”

six for gold

Vex is a light, golden and glorious. She is the first one he trusts - as much as he trusts anyone, now. She is brutally honest from the start, and he thinks that he loves her for that; he wonders if he even remembers what that word once meant.

“So,” she says, coming up beside him as he stares into the flames of their little campfire late that first night. He’s said that he would take the midnight watch, but he doesn’t blame her for sitting up with him. He wouldn’t trust any of them to watch his back, either; he will lie awake all night, and likely for some time to come. “Percy.”

“Yes? Hello?” he tries awkwardly after a moment passes, and nothing more is said.

“This is a bit awkward,” she says, stretching out the words in an unnatural sing-song. “And nobody else wants to bring it up, because they’re all cowards, so I sort of have to.”

“You want me to leave,” he says flatly. That makes sense, after all. He nods, already thinking of what he needs to bring when he leaves in the morning.

“No! No, no, no,” she says quickly, flapping her hands at him. “Well, Vax does, but only because he’s a suspicious bastard. I’m just…not sure that we’re the best fit for you, perhaps?” Her voice trails away, gone high and vague, and Percy frowns at her.

“How do you mean?”

She sighs, dragging her hands down her face. “Well, it’s just…” She stops, and starts again. “You seem a bit … sickly. Which is fine, don’t get me wrong! But we’re a band of mercenaries who aren’t always good at actually getting paid, you understand. And as soon as we do get a bit of gold, I barely get my hands on it before everyone’s rushing off to spend it!” Vex is so comically over-annoyed by this that Percy wishes he remembered how to smile like a person. “Anyway,” she says, breathing long and deep. “I’m only saying that we’re all going to feel really bad if you up and die on us because we couldn’t afford to look after you, so maybe you want us to take you to a village and set you up somewhere that you can rest peacefully?”

He watches her for a long moment, trying to figure out her angle, the threat she poses, the danger lurking in the shadows - and then he gives up. He is tired, and she is so honest right now that it almost hurts. He reaches into the bag at his side and pulls out his leather money bag, tossing it to her without breaking eye contact. She catches it on reflex, gasping as she glances inside it.

“I didn’t mean you needed to pay us!” Vex shoves it back at him, some strange mixture of offended and already grieving the loss. “We may be mercenaries, but we’re a bit above beating up dying prisoners for their gold, thank you!”

“I’m not dying,” he protests mildly. He gathers up the bag and holds it out to her, pleased that his hands aren’t shaking now. “I have gold. I don’t need it, I don’t want it, and I don’t know how to look after it. That was-” he breaks off. That was Vesper’s job, from the moment she turned twelve and had insisted on Father letting her take over from the bookkeeper who had been skimming money from the family accounts. “I want you to have it,” he says again after a moment. “I’ll tell you when I need some of it for my work, and you can do what you like with the rest.”

She watches him for a long time, but he knows she will take the offer, if only from the way her fingers keep twitching toward the bag. “Fine,” she says in the end, taking the bag from him gently, now. “But if I get to decide what to do with it, the first thing we’re doing is buying you some clothes that aren’t rags. Also, food. Lots of it.” She frowns at his skinny wrists, and the bag disappears somewhere about her person.

Percy stares back at the fire, and thinks he can remember how to smile if he gives it a bit of thought. He is lighter without the weight of the gold.

seven for a secret never to be told

Honest people didn’t keep secrets, Mother had told him time and again. The de Rolos had an obligation to be honest with their people, or they stood to do nothing but damage to those who relied on them. Percival had been a bit of a secretive child, though, and kept his more dangerous tinkering experiments to himself, though not without a rush of guilt when Mother looked at him knowingly.

But someone had been keeping a secret, he has decided over time. Something about Whitestone, some secret he had never been privy to, had been the downfall of his entire house. He isn’t certain whether he wishes he had known the secret or not. If he’d known, he would have blurted it out under Ripley’s cunning hands; but, then, if he’d known anything of value, there would at least have been a purpose to torturing him. As it is, he bears the scars of someone else’s secrets. He doesn’t even bother pretending he hasn’t got secrets of his own, now.

Trust grows slowly between Percy and the other members of their little band, but somehow he blinks, and it has been nearly half a year, and he has seven other people whom he trusts with his life, and who trust him with theirs. He is never going to take that responsibility lightly.

He makes himself a mental list of all of the secrets that might pose a threat to them, ranking and ordering them, and tries to work out whether he can divest himself of any of them. The difficulty is, though, that for all their prowess at magic and fighting, Percy is sometimes shocked to realize just how foolhearty and juvenile their group can be. They call themselves Vox Machina now, but the SHITS had been more honest.

How can he let them know about the Briarwoods, when Grog and Scanlan are as likely to be using their heads as battering rams to see whose cracks first as they are to be thinking? How can he share the dangerous truth of his own full identity, while he watches Keyleth and Pike get so drunk they can’t stand up, howling all their secrets to the sky in great laughing gusts of careless joy?

How can he tell anyone the secret that truly scares him - the dark monster that haunts his dreams - when Vax and Vex change moods on a dime, weaving through unpredictable extremes of emotion faster than he can keep up?

Percy burns his mental list, consigning it all to his own memory, and vows to keep his secrets.

(Two weeks later, they will encounter a haughty government employee who seeks to stand between them and the information they need, and Percy will burst out with his whole name, every aristocratic syllable of it tinged with scornful disdain that accomplishes his goals. He won’t even remember that he meant to keep it from them forever. After all, they’ll never get it right.)

eight for a wish

Cassandra had used to wish on stars. Percy remembers this sometimes, on night watches when the stars are very bright, though the skies lack the crisp, cold clarity of Whitestone nights. She had used to bully him into standing witness for her wishes, insisting on the proper form of the thing. He cannot remember any of those little-girl wishes now - just the solemn intensity of her, staring up with the determination to make the universe itself bend to her will.

Percy does not make wishes. He has learned, so well, that he is not a person who should be allowed to want things. His choices throw that up to him at every turn, his failures showing in stark relief what happens when Percy de Rolo wants things beyond his reach. He cannot protect his family, cannot kill Anna Ripley, cannot seek vengeance on those who destroyed his life. These are not things he can want - not without dark and terrible consequences.

But he cannot help but make one wish, a small, pitiful thing in the unending gloom of the Underdark, when it seems they will never find their way out again. He thinks of Cassandra, under the clear skies, and closes his eyes, and wishes to see the stars again.

Surely that is a small enough thing for him to wish.

nine for a kiss

It isn’t until both of the twins have kissed him that Percy actually pays any attention.

Vax’s jubilant embrace in the Underdark had been nothing more than wild delight at the prospect of escape, and had been mostly lost in the chaos of that flight.

When Vex kisses him, too, his brain sits up and pays attention.

Thinking is hard, sometimes. Keeping track of time, especially in the foggy bits before he met Vox Machina, is often beyond Percy. He is very certain, though, that it has been years since he made any sort of direct physical contact with another being. Certainly, people had attacked and beaten him, or dragged him around; there had been fleeting touches of healing magic or brushes in the middle of combat. He’d been hit by just about every sort of weapon imaginable.

But Vax and Vex have both kissed him, and Percy has to sit down and think about that. And Keyleth has leaned over his shoulders, and Grog has slapped him on the back until he fell over, and, and, and…

He has to put his face in his hands and breathe deeply for a while. Somehow, while he wasn’t looking, Percy has become a part of this strange, broken little family - welcomed, integrated, loved. Somehow, his defences fell so low that he hadn’t even noticed he was past the boundaries of propriety and familiarity.

Vax cuffs him fondly on the head as he passes, ruffling Percy’s hair. “Don’t think too hard, there,” he says with a smirk that Percy can just hear. “I don’t want to be responsible for cleaning up when that brain of yours explodes.”

And Percy reaches a hand up to touch where Vax had pressed his hand, awed almost past the point of thought.

He is one of them. He is someone whom they like, and trust, and rely on. They laugh and cry and eat and sleep and fight together - as though Percy is a real person, as though he is something more than human wreckage, than mere flotsam from the wreck of his life. He has anchors, now. Connections.

Family.

ten for a bird you must not miss

And there he is, standing in front of Silas Briarwood, gun burning in his shaking hands. He doesn’t dare blink, or breathe, or think too hard. There is Silas, teeth gleaming in the moonlight, and his hateful wife not ten paces away. They haven’t aged a day, even as Percy has gone white-haired and taken scar upon scar, wiping away the image of the boy they had once met.

There is Silas in his gunsights, turning to look at him with a look of sheer contempt. Had he looked at Father that way, before murdering him? Had Lady Briarwood worn such a cool expression as his little siblings fell, victims of secrets they had never known? The fuzzy darkness tugs at the back of Percy’s head, temptingly. He could fall into it, escaping this confrontation he was in no way ready for. Something was growling in the back of his mind, a feeling darker and more powerful than he was ready to handle.

But there was a shape at Silas’ feet - a dark pile of rags, hardly moving, and Vax had called them for help, and it wasn’t hard to put facts together. And if Vax was down, and the rest of them were converging on this courtyard together, Percy knew with cold certainty that his chances of losing another family tonight were too high to bear. They were not unarmed children now: but there was Vax, down and still, and Silas looming over him like oncoming death, and Percy swallowed and breathed deep to scream out his hatred to the sky

And he took a breath and steadied his aim

And pushed aside all thoughts of Death, coming to visit him again, and breathed again, until he only had room for one thought:

You must not miss.

And Percy took his shot.

#critical role #percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo iii #critical role fic #kivrin writes #yeah no I'm totally ok why do you ask?#new fandom oh god I'm scared

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katwriting · 7 years

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Fic: Mending the pieces - Part 2

This was supposed to be a oneshot, but it ended on a bit of a cliffhanger…so here’s the happy ending some of you requested. Enjoy reading :)

Read Part 1 here

Word count: 2,575 | Read the entire fic on AO3

“Alexander.”

Alec paused for a moment before replying. It was strange hearing from Magnus again, after nothing but radio silence for almost a week. “Hey. What’s up?”

“One of my fellow warlocks just called me, she said that there was something wrong with her clearance – she wanted to trade potions this morning in Central Park just as she always does, and apparently she got in trouble with some shadowhunters. They said that she didn’t have the clearance or something to do that. She’s been doing this for years. How can there be a problem all of a sudden?”

Alec frowned, trying his best to make his voice sound as professional as he could. “Uh…that might be because the Inquisitor has recently extended the restrictions on potion trading. But as far as I know, those restrictions are only about the stuff that is already prohibited. There shouldn’t be any problems. But I’ll have someone from the security department look into it.”

Magnus’ voice sounded nothing but polite and professional when he answered. “That would be great. Thank you.”

“No problem. Is that all or do you need anything else?”

“No…uh…actually, I meant to ask you something. Even though that is no longer of my business.” Alec heard Magnus take a deep breath on the other end before he continued speaking. “How are you doing?”

Alec sighed. “Depends…do you want the standard answer or the actual one?”

The polite, distant tone in Magnus’ voice was all gone when he replied. Instead, he sounded “I know I have no right to request anything from you right now, but…an honest answer one would be great.”

Alec ignored the slight ache in his chest as he listened to Magnus referring to him and the issue of honesty all over again. To distract himself, he reached over to his nightstand and picked up the silver bracelet Magnus had left there a couple of weeks ago. While he ran his fingers over the metal and the intricate patterns engraved into it, he thought of how to word his answer.

“Look…I guess there is no good way to say this, but…I don’t feel good. Not at all. I’m sorry if this is more information than you wanted, but you asked for it.”

That last sentence came out way harsher than Alec had intended it to be, and despite everything, he felt bad. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rude. I guess I’m just…tired”, he said and rubbed his hand over his eyes.

“It’s okay, Alec. I wanted to know and you’re being honest. I guess you could be a lot harsher to me and I would still deserve it”, Magnus responded.

There was another moment of silence and Magnus sighed. “This is way more awkward than I expected it to be. I should go…this was not a good idea after all, I- “

“I miss you”, Alec blurted out before Magnus could hang up. “You probably don’t want to hear this, but I do.”

Another few seconds silence followed, no less awkward than before. When Magnus spoke again, however, his voice didn’t sound as strained as earlier. There was still a cautious tone to it, but he sounded softer, like the words were coming from his heart rather than from his head.

“I miss you too.”

The only thing Alec could hear after that was his blood rushing through his veins and his rapid heartbeat. He stared at the wall across from his bed, totally at a loss for words. He’d been expecting many things, but definitely not Magnus missing him too. Not after how he’d looked at him during the council meeting.

“Look”, the warlock continued, “this is weird on the phone. I don’t know if you want to but maybe if you have time…we could meet up and talk about things? Of course you have every right to say no, but…I would really appreciate it if we could talk in person.”

Despite his head was yelling at him that he should know better, Alec let his lips pull into a cautious smile. “It really is weird. Are you at home?”

“I am.”

“Good. I’m on my way.”

+++

Over time, Alec had memorized the way to Magnus’ apartment by heart. Usually, his walks from the Institute to Brooklyn were filled with happiness and excitement. Today, however, he just felt weird – hopeful and terrified at the same time. After all, Magnus agreeing to talk to him was more than he had gotten for the past week. But with everything that had happened between them, Alec was dreading to face Magnus again.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, he stepped into the elevator of Magnus’ apartment building and ran through the sheer countless possible scenarios of what could happen – from Magnus forgiving him to something going terribly wrong and making their situation even more complicated. Although, as he had to admit himself, things could hardly get any worse than they already were.

When the elevator stopped with a high “ping” noise and the doors slid open, he took a deep breath before heading towards the polished black door of penthouse number 1. Alec raised his hand and knocked at the door, then took a step back and waited for Magnus to open. He heard shuffling steps inside the apartment, moving slowly towards the door and then the lock clicked and Magnus stood right in front of him.

The warlock looked tired, incredibly so. His eyes, usually the first hint at how Magnus was feeling, seemed darker than usual, toned down and dull. Judging from his shiny blue silk shirt, the silver necklaces and matching eye shadow, Magnus was trying his best to hide that, but Alec had always been able to see right through his many façades and coping mechanisms. And although they had broken up, that had not changed.

This Magnus was nothing like the proud, confident warlock Alec loved so much. He seemed empty, burned out – and hurting just as much as Alec.

Instinctively, Alec wanted to reach out to Magnus, to pull him in and hug him until all his pain vanished. But then he reminded himself that he was the reason for Magnus feeling so bad in the first place and held himself back. Instead, he looked at Magnus and tried a careful smile. “Hey.”

“Hey”, the warlock responded, voice somewhat soft and eyes no longer as cold as they had been back at the Institute. “Come in.”

Alec walked past Magnus and then paused – under normal circumstances, he would have left his boots and jacket in the hallway and then joined Magnus in whatever the warlock was doing. Today, he hesitated. Entering Magnus’ apartment usually felt like coming home. Today, Alec felt like he was a guest walking into the place of a stranger.

The shadowhunter tried his best to ignore that feeling, waited for Magnus to close the door and then followed him inside the living room, where Magnus motioned for him to sit down on the couch. Alec sat down in his usual spot, the warlock taking a seat across from him.

“You want a drink? I could use one.”

Alec shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Just one for me, then”, Magnus said and with a wave of his hand, a glass appeared on the coffee table. Alec watched Magnus pick up the glass, take a sip and then stare into it, as if the solution to all of their problems lay in a glass of whiskey-rocks.

Neither of them said anything, the silence wavering between them like an awkward barrier. To avoid staring at Magnus and make this even more unpleasant, Alec started to play with the fringes of one of the expensive couch cushions.

That didn’t help much though, if anything, it made the quiet even more suffocating. So Alec took a deep breath, tried to pull himself together as best as he could, and approached the gigantic elephant in the room.

“You know you could have just called the Institute general office this morning”, he blurted out. “Someone from the ops center would have picked up. They would have been able to help you much faster than I did. You didn’t have to call me.”

“I know that”, Magnus said slowly, absentmindedly swirling his drink in his glass. “But I wanted to.”

Alec frowned. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you.” The warlock took a deep breath, almost as if he had to brace himself for something. “And because I need to apologize.”

Alec rose his head and looked at the warlock. He didn’t quite believe what he’d just heard, and didn’t want to let himself build up hope. Not after having his heart shattered by the very person sitting across from him just a couple of days ago.

So he didn’t say anything, just looked at Magnus, who had now placed his glass back on the coffee table and was looking straight at him.

As if he were sensing Alec’s distrust, Magnus breathed out shakily and scooted a bit closer to Alec before he continued speaking. “I know I broke things off between us, and it’s all my fault that we are like…this.” He motioned to the distance between them – both the literal and figurative one - and sighed. “I thought…that if we both went into all those decisions level-headed, if we didn’t have to worry about our people and each other, that all of this would be easier.”

“As if I would stop worrying about you just because we broke up”, Alec interjected and watched as Magnus cringed. But he didn’t feel sorry for his words. They were the truth.

Magnus smiled sadly at the shadowhunter. “I know that now. But after everything that happened with the Soul Sword I was so mad and disappointed, it seemed like the only way to move on. And I am deeply sorry for that, you have to believe me, Alec”

Now it was Alec’s time to feel guilty. He reached out and gently took Magnus’ hand, smiling tentatively as the warlock’s stern features softened.

“You had every right to be mad about the sword. I should have told you right away, not keep it a secret from you. I’m sorry too, for betraying your trust like that.”

Magnus just shrugged. “We both made mistakes, did things we’re not proud of. But we can’t change that. But if there is anything good about mistakes, it’s that we can learn from them. And what I learned over these past few days is that I miss you terribly, Alexander.”

Alec felt his heart flutter at the sound of the name he’d hated so much growing up, but that sounded so beautiful coming from Magnus. Warmth started spreading in his chest and throughout his entire body as he realized where this conversation might be going. “I miss you too.”

Magnus reached out and grabbed Alec’s free hand, running his thumb softly at Alec’s knuckles. “Being apart from you also taught me another thing – that making decisions completely on my own doesn’t work so well for me anymore. Not since I met you. So I was wondering…if we promise each other that from now on there will be no more secrets between us, that we will always be honest to each other, no matter what – maybe you’d want to give this, us, another try?”

For a moment, Alec couldn’t do anything but stare at the warlock. It was only when he saw Magnus’ amused smile that he realized that he was supposed to say something. “Yeah”, he muttered, unable to hide the smile that was pulling at his lips, “I’d love that.”

The warlock let out a beautiful, soft laugh. “Great. So…does that mean that you and me, we’re good?”

Alec chuckled. “We’re good.”

And then he couldn’t help but close the distance between them. He pulled Magnus into a crushing hug and buried his face in the warlock’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of fresh laundry and expensive cologne. As he felt his boyfriend relax into the embrace, the tension stored up in Alec’s body started to slowly fade away, making room for fluttering, bubbly happiness. And that happiness only multiplied when he felt Magnus’ fingers brush over his hair and his lips press a gentle kiss to his temple.

“I love you so much, Alexander.”

Alec lifted his head, so he could look into Magnus’ eyes. The warlock had dropped his glamour and as always, the sight of Magnus’ natural eye color in the soft lighting of the loft left Alec completely in awe.

“I love you too”, he murmured and then leaned in to finally kiss Magnus.

That kiss was like so many kisses they’d shared before and yet felt like their first kiss all over again. It started out slow and gentle, a question that was quickly answered as it turned more passionate and loving. Magnus’ arms were steady around the shadowhunter, holding him and keeping him as close as they possibly could be. Alec gave back with everything he had, he poured all the love he had into the kiss as well as all the hurt and tears from the past few days, making the warlock shiver.

That kiss was making up for lost time as well as promising so much more for the future. It was giving and taking, remembering and promising, apologizing and forgiving – and it was everything Alec needed.

When they broke apart, both slightly out of breath, Alec hugged Magnus once more, leaning their foreheads together and relishing the feeling of having Magnus back in his arms.

“No more secrets”, Alec breathed.

Magnus leaned away so he could look at Alec and then nodded, his cat gleaming like molten amber. “No more secrets.”

Alec moved back towards Magnus, but the warlock stopped him with a hand on his arm. Alec frowned and searched the warlock’s face for any clue what was going on, but Magnus just averted his gaze and bit his lip. “Actually, there is something I need to tell you. It’s about the Seelie queen. I spoke to one of her knights the other day and - “

Alec reached out and put one finger on the warlock’s lips, successfully shushing him. “Can we maybe not talk about the war right now? I know this is important, but I just got you back and…I don’t know, if it’s not about life or death, can we just save the work talk for later?”

Magnus beamed, his hand wandering up from Alec’s arm to his face, cupping his cheek. “That is completely fine by me, Alexander.”

And when they kissed again, Alec knew that even though this would not have been their last argument, they would never let something like this drive them apart again. Whatever came next, they would face it together. As a team and as a couple.

Naturally, it would never be easy. Alec knew that that there would always be times where they would not be on the same page. Especially when it came to decisions that effected both of their people. After all, both of them were leaders who had to look out not only for themselves, but for others as well.

The High Warlock of Brooklyn and the Head of the New York Institute would always have their differences. They would have opposite goals. Their interests would conflict. They would argue.

But Magnus and Alec? They would be okay.

#malec fic #malec #shadowhunters fic #katwriting

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dragestilwrites · 7 years

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Blood and Kisses - Prologue

Ionas wakes in a strange and dark world where it seems everything wants his blood. Though this adds challenge to his duties, he is relentless in pursuing his goals. What awaits him in this new land? Can he survive? And more still, can he finish his job?

Setting: Bloodborne Universe Words: 1566 Rating: T - violence and gore

It was dark when he woke. He was used to waking up in the dark, of course, but this dark was peculiar. It was heavier than he was accustomed to, and it smelled distinctly of blood. That definitely qualified as unusual. His line of business required a certain level of hygiene that generally precluded smelling strongly of iron and viscera. He rubbed sleep from his eyes as he sat up.

Now this was exceedingly unusual. As opposed to his comfortable bed at home, he was on what appeared to be a hospital gurney. But this was no immaculate place of healing and renewal. This was clearly some sort of hellish dreamscape - well nightmare-scape he supposed. There was nothing clean in sight, not even his own clothes, which he was shocked to find were not the ones he fell asleep in. At least they fit him, and they looked surprisingly nice.

“Anyone home?” he called tentatively, not entirely sure if he wanted any sort of answer. He wasn’t sure the sort of people he might find in a place like this. Still, he had duties to carry out and standards to uphold.

When there was no response, he nodded his head once, brushed himself off, and headed toward the door. Which did not open. He sighed. That was certainly his luck. There were always hiccoughs in his plans, even the simplest. And this hadn’t been a simple plan in the slightest. He had gotten word of a place entirely devoid of light and love, which he certainly couldn’t abide. So he had set off for - well he wasn’t entirely sure where. He was working largely based on rumours and hearsay. But at least it looked like he was in the right place now, however he managed to get there.

“Come now, Ionas. There’s another door right over there. That must be the proper exit,” he coached himself, preferring the sound of his own voice to the eerie silence.

He crossed the room swiftly and pushed the mercifully unlocked door open. It was then that he noticed the...less than sanitary stains sprinkled haphazardly across the floor. And then his eyes followed one gory trail to a distinctly unfriendly looking mass of fur. He took a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time he’d run into someone’s unhappy or untrained pet. As long as he kept himself calm and gave the creature a wide berth, surely he would be fine.

“I’m just going to walk over here, alright? And then I’m going to-”

The creature’s deep growl broke his concentration, his speech, and his forward momentum. He froze between bloodied gurneys and stacks of books - medical texts? - and stared at the now standing creature. It was far larger than he had imagined, and the look in its eyes petrified him. How was he meant to get any work done with an animal like this loose?

“Easy now,” he began, though his voice was trembling, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

In the blink of an eye, the beast was upon him. He flailed wildly, praying that his fists would do something, anything to slow the attack. But he was no match, and he felt dagger-sharp claws slicing effortlessly through his clothes and flesh. He let out a shout as he took a particularly brutal blow that knocked the wind out of him. He hit the floor with a dull thud and blacked out for a moment.

When he opened his eyes, he was somewhere entirely different. He scrambled to his feet and cast quick glances to his surroundings to be absolutely certain there was not a murderous hell-beast waiting to devour him. But he was alone, save for several - what were they? tombstones? - ornamental rocks, a lifesize doll, and weird creatures playing in pits of ooze scattered randomly about this odd place. What was odder still was that he could swear these creatures were signalling to him! He took a chance. After all, what could these creatures do that would be worse than the mauling he had just been subject to?

Ionas straightened his glasses and approached one of the puddles of slime and spirits. The creatures reached toward him, and after a moment’s thought, he knelt down to better appraise them. His vision went dark for a moment as a buzzing sound came from the creatures and surrounded him.

“We have gifts for the hunter,” a chorus of voices spoke in his head. “Choose wisely before you go back to Yharnam. You want our gifts.”

He had no idea who or what Yharnam was, let alone what gifts might help him there, but the images of three weapons appeared in his mind’s eye. He swallowed and supposed that weaponry would be a boon if he was going back to face that foul beast. He cautiously reached for the second weapon, a sturdy and large axe. As his fingers curled around the grip, his vision cleared and he found himself still knelt on the ground but now with the axe in tow. He didn’t have time to consider this before another pile of muck beckoned him closer.

Now intrigued more than afraid, he scurried over and knelt down, prepared when his vision again dimmed and the buzz returned. The voices reiterated the same spiel about gifts and Yharnam, but now two guns appeared. He was not much a fan of firearms. They were very impersonal, and he worked in a deeply personal business. But he supposed it would be impolite to turn down a gift, and an extra weapon surely couldn’t hurt. He grabbed the pistol with little thought and was once more deposited back in reality.

He stood up and tucked the gun away in a holster he hadn’t previously noticed. He decided before attempting to seek the way back to this Yharnam place he would get acquainted with his new axe. This place seemed relatively safe in comparison to the dank hospital he had first woken in, and he had the nagging feeling that skill with his weapon would be crucial to achieving his goals. He took a few cursory swings before finding a strange bump on the handle. Curious, he pushed it, gasping as the short handle extended and turned his short range weapon into a more formidable long range one. Now this was his style.

Ionas smiled. Of course he wasn’t much for fighting - it tended to go against his job’s requirements - but there was a time and place for everything. Right now and Yharnam seemed the exact time and place for violence. He swung a few more times with his now extended axe to adjust to the momentum and drag of it. He nodded firmly once satisfied. This would do, at least for a time until he sorted out what was happening.

An instinct he couldn’t quite place told him to investigate the stones lining the cobbled pathways of this strange place. He paced over to the one nearest him and leaned down to read the heavily worn but deeply engraved writing. At the top of the stone was the word “Yharnam” and beneath it was “1st Floor Sickroom.” There seemed to be other things written beneath, but they were utterly illegible. For some reason, though, Ionas felt certain they would become clear in time.

Regardless of this odd premonition, Ionas knew this stone was the key to returning to Yharnam. He leaned forward and touched the second engraving. Everything went black for a moment before he found himself standing in the clinic again. He blinked once to make sure he was truly seeing his surroundings correctly before steadying his grip on his axe. It was time for his mission to actually begin.

Ionas smiled to himself as he whistled a jaunty tune he remembered from childhood. He felt nothing even akin to fear as he caught sight of the creature that had sent him into the strange place between realities. He readied his weapon and dove into the fight. It was thoroughly invigorating to cut into the beast as effortlessly as it had previously cut into him. In moments, its corpse lay at his feet, and he shouldered his axe to take a breath to admire his work. He brushed the blood-matted fur away from the beast’s snout and pressed a quick kiss to it.

“Goodnight, friend. Rest with love in your heart,” he said easily. Well-armed and eager as ever, he stepped away from his first kill with new surety in his purpose. He still had no idea where Yharnam even was, but he knew that the souls trapped in this world of darkness needed his services more than perhaps any other place he had gone. Who else could bring light and love and redemption? None. Only he could heal these hurts, he was certain of it.

He wiped his glasses clean on a small cloth he had knicked off one of the cleaner gurneys. This was going to be his strangest and perhaps most dangerous job yet, but he was prepared. And he even was going to look good while working - something he always found to make his task easier. He began whistling again as he headed for the door that surely led out into this strange new world. Whatever was waiting for him, his new axe - already tinged with the beast’s blood - was more than ready to offer greetings.

#bloodborne #ionas the kissboy #blood and kisses

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my-bobohu-blog · 7 years

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[170401] a personal update and a very detailed list of my future plans that give me a reason to keep living

so... i’ve been having a rough time again. i don’t even remember if i wrote it down or not? if i recorded it anywhere... but these past couple of days... or weeks i guess... it just felt like i was thrown back into the dark and it felt... terrifying. there was a day when i just couldn’t get out of bed because i just couldn’t? i tried and i wanted to but it just... wasn’t working... i couldn’t function and it felt like i was falling apart but i couldn’t figure out why no matter how many times i tried to walk myself through my emotions. it just felt like i was turned off. and now being back at school at that godforsaken school... it feels 100x worse. i just... i hate being there so much and it makes me feel so empty inside.

sigh. i wanted to journal about all of this but the words never come out right and it takes so much more effort to format it correctly where it’ll work with my brain. but this works too because i can edit things quickly and cleanly without scribbling all over my cute little journal. and sometimes it just takes to long to write everything i want to say and my hand can’t keep up with my thoughts and i don’t want to leave anything out because my little plans for the future are important to me and even the smallest plans bring me a lot of joy so i just... i want to keep track of them all, mm?

okay... so... i guess i’ll start listing off my future plans one by one in chronological order because it brings me a kind of peace and it makes me happy knowing that i’ll be capable of achieving these things one day...

for this weekend:

start my poetry readings (homer’s iliad) and idk just be a bit more active in my learning instead of trying to just run away from it

check canvas for any global health readings too so i can plan time to do those readings before monday’s class

watch ep 12 of swdbs (hehehe tonight hopefully after i take a nice shower and put my hair into braids)

for this coming week:

i will go to all my classes this week. no more skips. and i’ll get on top of my work (which isn’t much i don’t think) but i will be prepared

go bowling with hai maybe? i don’t know. we’ll see and i think i should be more honest with myself when it comes to him too

i wanna start a drama (the one with joy and lee hyun woo) and also keep watching grey’s anatomy and running man

the weather is supposed to be nicer on monday through wednesday so maybe i’ll go to the zoo one of those days and see my baby otter pups

i should get my genetics and a&p credits transferred before something miraculously stupid happens like uw expels me for kicks and giggles

deposit money into the bank account to pay off my bills and to make up for all the shit i spent money on these past couple months (no regrets)

look cute one of these days and go take some selfies by the cherry blossoms @ the quad... which would be cool, hmm?

buy some more strawberry milk bc it makes me happy :)

for this month:

go to the zoo at least twice to visit the baby otter pups and to just... enjoy the zoo whether it’s on my own or with company

no skipping classes in april to the best of your ability... because may and june might be hard and i need to keep it together at least one month

make sure to have a bad day preparedness plan just in case the bad days are bad and skipping isn’t an option

figure out a schedule to start working out on a weekly basis- but at the very least start working out at home or something

buy some cool socks and make hai a picture ornament for his birthday that’s coming up

fly to la to see fey, exo, and some sunshine LOL~ remember to have a good time and to just enjoy life as it comes

trim bangs

for this school year:

pray like there’s no tomorrow that i got into the MLS program because it means the world to me and i want to stop being disappointed by life

pray some more just in case and just... pray a lot, hmm? just... lots of praying tbvh

apply to the biology major (ba bc bs is a pain in the ass even if it’s just one more physics class- fuck that)

do my best to just finish this quarter strong and to just get through it no matter what it may throw at me

drive to the beach on a really sunny/warm day and just feel the wind blow through my hair and enjoy life

transfer every single one of my credits and just get that taken care of so that i can figure out my next steps at this godforsaken school

go to oshian’s graduation and get her the most kickass present i can think of/make because she deserves it more than the world

for the future and beyond:

get into the mls program and totally kick ass by being motivated to learn new shit and making friends with my small cohort

get into the bio major and kick ass at that too because biology is just in my blood and engraved in my heart at this point

take a shit ton of challenging classes that make life worth living and do my clinical rotations and kick ass at that too because it’s lab and i love it

graduate with a bs in mls and a ba in bio and a minor in chem and if i’m feeling ambitious lets just tag on a minor in microbio too if i can

but really, graduate with at least a bs in mls because that’s what matters and i’m gonna do great with that too

apply to hospitals in seattle and boston and move to boston if there’s a place for me there

go on a big ass trip of joys and wonders after i graduate and before i move for my big senior solo trip

visit south korea, japan, and taiwan~ (maybe schedule it around the time of an exo concert, mm? and go to hot springs in japan~)

visit sm coex, go to pet cafes, run through the taiwanese night markets, eat all the delicious foods, just... live and be happy and explore

move to boston (hopefully) and start over with a new life with a job at a wonderful hospital~ live there for 2-3 years and see how it goes

go to farmers’ markets and buy myself fruits and flowers, learn how to cook more, live on my own, drink wine and watch netflix on my own

get a corgi and name it bubby and love it more than anything else in the world because it will be my lil love and my lil bub and it will own my soul

travel to europe and visit england, spain, france, and germany and idk anywhere in between wherever my heart takes me

apply to graduate school (maybe u of maryland) and get a masters in the pathologists’ assistant program

become a freaking pathologists’ assistant??? and make $100k+ a year??? and kick fucking ass???

open up Bubby’s Bookshop (latter half of name still pending) as a safe space for ppl to go and be at peace

oh and adopt lola (or lolo) and my cat sparkles~ and shower them with all the love in the world

make special spaces in bubby’s bookshop like lola’s library and sparkles’ safe space w/ lil themes for ppl to seek comfort in

maybe get my phd??? so that i can be the lab director of a lab one day and just... still totally kick ass? because... that would be awesome

dr. elaine~ ayeeeeee LOLOLOL but really... that would be kind of really great and cool and exciting

buy a beach house or something... maybe start small and just rent a beachside apartment ya know? but... i’ll get there ;)

live simply, humbly, and happily

for everything in between my life plans:

remain flexible and have back ups and don’t be afraid to let go of certain future plans simply because they aren’t gonna work out

if i don’t get into the mls program, then i’ll get my bio degree and get a certification program in mls and i’ll go from there and adjust accordingly

if i choose a path different from pathologists’ assistant, then that’s cool too as long as i enjoy whatever path i take

hope and pray that my heart still belongs in labs and that truly where i am happy and where my soul resides

if not, then i can figure out something else from there too. there will always be time

for the bad days and the good days and life in between:

tell someone (oshian probably bc she’s my person) whenever those bad waves come before i start to drown too deeply

do not be afraid to reach out and to just... ask for help no matter how much of a burden i feel like i am... because i still matter and i need help

go to the zoo often and go to the beach often and just go places often. try to avoid holing myself in my room if i can avoid it

take advantage of good opportunities and try to put myself out there every once in a while- like good internships

keep friends. don’t push them away... because they matter and they’re important and they are everything

dude, go out to eat with other people. like literally anyone and not just by myself bc sometimes it’s a tad depressing and company is fucking gr8

take care of myself and know my own limits because those are essential to my sanity and my health and hopefully it will get better

but if it doesn’t, at least i’ll still have me and i will get myself through every single bad day in life and i will persevere and survive

even if this is the longest shit i’ve written it still feels so incomplete? like i’m missing something or that i’m leaving out some small details that really matter... but... i think that’s okay, hmm? i hope... i hope i can achieve these things or at least still remain true to the heart and soul that is striving after these things.

i want to be better. i want to be a better elaine that little-elaine can look up to and be proud of. i want big-elaine to look back and think, “you did good little one. thank you for the strength to get us to this point. you did good.” because that matters and because... because even if i make all these plans, i’m still scared that something is going to go wrong with my heart and my soul and that somewhere underneath all of this is someone who is rotten at the core and... and i hope that’s not true... but i’m trying. i’m trying my best and i’m trying to be the best i can be even if that just means buying strawberry milk on a wednesday to help me get through the rest of the week. and i don’t know if that made sense... but it matters to me. because... because i’ve gone through a shit ton and i don’t always think i’m a good person... but goddammit i’m trying and that has to count for something... it has to matter to me that i’m trying.

sigh.

none of my future plans really have people involved specifically... except osh bc she’s my best friend and i will fight like hell to keep her in my life even if i’m living across the country. but... there’s no plans for a boyfriend or a husband... because... because i feel like if i do that then i’ll be weak and that somehow having plans will break my heart when they don’t come true because they never do. so idk... i don’t even know why i wanted to mention this but i also kind of know because i told myself i’d be honest with myself today. and the truth is... i’m scared of being alone and i’m scared of settling and i’m scared of being with someone i’m unhappy with so i’d rather just be alone because i can control how i feel about myself and i can control those aspects of my future because they’re my future and someone else’s future isn’t a part of that- not really. and... and i’m scared of someone walking in and changing my plans and then walking right back out after damage has been done... and i’m scared because i can’t control their feelings but... but i don’t want to have to pick up all my broken pieces each time someone walks out of my life either. i’ve grown so tired of it.

but... but i won’t lie. i want someone who is gonna hug me at the end of the day and kiss me on the forehead and hold my hand and tell me that even on my worse days, things are going to be okay... that i’m going to be okay. because they’ll know that only me telling myself those things isn’t always enough so they’re there to support me too. and... and i want to love someone. really love someone and just... link arms with them and let them cuddle up with me in bed and tell them about my future plans and ask about theirs and maybe make future plans together. my goodness i don’t want to end up alone but i feel like i will just because i’m too fucking scared to include anyone in my future... but... i hope... i really hope that i won’t end up alone. which is a stupid sentiment by the way bc i have osh and my family who love and adore me and would do anything for me... and i’m still trying to figure out what i mean when i want someone to love me... and i guess i mean that in a s/o kind of way but... but still... it just... feels weird. like i want someone special but osh and family are still special and i don’t know how to specify what i want in words but i think it’s understandable but i wish i could just break it down and really make sense of what i want... sigh. idk... i’m just rambling at this point.

alright... i’m growing tired because i’m still not sure what the point of these last few points were. anyways.

to my little love (aka me), you are doing great and i’m proud of you. even if the depression feels like it’s eating you alive- you are going to survive this. you have goals and plans and it’s going to be okay because you’re smart and you’re going to fight and you’re going to survive this and it’s going to get better. even if life decides to screw you over at every corner you turn, you’re going to persevere and make it through. even if you have to suffer, you will fucking persevere because that’s just what you do and that’s what your heart is made of. it was meant to persevere even in the toughest times that test you and make you want to give up- you never will. even if there are smaller things that occupy your mind and your time- even if there are things that make you more vulnerable than you ever anticipated despite you knowing it shouldn’t- you’re gonna be okay and it’s going to be okay. you are going to accomplish all your goals in the best of your ability and you’re going to have a bright future because that’s just who and what you are. you are light and you are meant to live simply and brightly and it’s going to be okay. and even if you find yourself in the darkness, you will light your own way and figure your way out. you are strong my little potato bud. you are going to be great and i am so proud of you.

#for me #i just... need a place to put my thoughts #painfully personal #personal #the longest fucking post i've ever written #for the bad days

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