#crafting is not fast and never becomes faster for yourself

[theskyexists]

Really wanna work on my multiplayer game idea again.... Hmmrrm.

[cowboyheyxu]

"you're going to cut yourself if you cut it that way."

"am not," you childishly retorted.

"are too," dan heng childishly replied (out of character, you think).

you roll your eyes at dan heng, giving him a speck of your time before your attention cuts to the apple in your hands. though you have no good luck at peeling oranges, you think apple peeling might be easier.

when you pulled dan heng out of the cold archives into the kitchen⎯only to tell him that you were peeling apples⎯he was not pleased. "do you remember the oranges," he brought up. the memories never fail to bring a scowl to your face.

oranges require a set of skills you don't have. and they squirt everywhere. apples don't do that. you peel an apple with a knife and then it's done. and you've worked with knives before⎯you are member of the nameless.

"i still don't see why you have to peel apples. you can eat the skin," dan heng complained from the corner of the kitchen. while he was brooding in the corner, you were peacefully peeling across from him.

"dan heng," your eyes are trained on the apple, not paying attention to the man in front of you, "sometimes, i like to eat apples without the skin. do you know how frustrating it is to have skin stuck in your teeth?"

"is it seriously worth this much extra work?"

no. it wasn't.

the real reason you were trying to peel an apple was because you couldn't peel oranges. and the thought of not peeling any oranges frustrated you immensely. oranges were the easiest freaking fruit to peel! you've seen dan heng do it for a multitude of times. you didn’t even like apples.

if you couldn't peel oranges, you could at least peel apples, right?

dan heng watches you from afar (five feet) as you attempt to skin the apple in your hands. your tongue is sticking out ever so slightly as you concentrate hard on the task. dan heng can't help but stare a little longer at you, despite mentally telling himself to stop. it was just too easy to get caught up in all that is you.

you're sitting criss-cross on the counter across from him. you're hunched over as well; from afar, anyone could have mistaken you as a hunchback on the express. even with that, dan heng still finds himself mesmerized in your craft, even if you're doing it wrong.

your hands grip the knife tightly; your hands are squeezed into a hard ball around the knife, and your knuckles look paler than usual. they move delicately around the skin of the apple. you're weary of cutting yourself as well, dan heng notices.

he walks away from his corner and slowly creeps up to you. you're so fixated on the apple that you barely notice the shadow in front of you. it's only when he taps you on the shoulder, you jump up slightly. the apple nearly falls out of your hand, but the knife still remains unyielding in your grip.

"you!! we need to put a damn bell on you," you tsk, holding onto the apple a bit more tightly as you reposition your hands.

but before you could position your hands to the way they were before, dan heng quickly reached for them and stopped you from doing anything. finally, you look up at him, furrowing your eyebrows as you blankly stared at him.

his hands held yours midair, "let me help you."

you give him a playful scoff and try to shrug him off of you, "relax. it's peeling an apple. it's not hard," you lie. you were actually having trouble: your hold on the knife was slowly starting to become loose; your hands were shaky; and the closer the knife got to your fingers, the more stressed out you felt.

dan heng's expression remained unmoving: his eyes were stale and his lips were turned down. it seems that he did not believe you.

"well, i can help you peel it faster," he offered.

"seriously? i can peel it fast already."

"are you sure about that?" dan heng crossed his arms and gave you an impassive look.

"yes!" you defend, accidentally waving the knife near dan heng's body. you quickly recline your hand to the side and give him a small apologetic smile.

"well then, would you like to race me then? which one of us can peel an apple the fastest," dan heng leaned in closer, making you lean back onto the counter. your head was pressed up to the cabinets on top, giving you room to access the vicinity between you and dan heng.

and embarrassingly enough, there was a lot of distance between the both of you. when dan heng moved a few steps closer to you, you moved all the way back into the counter.

you try to avoid looking in his eyes, "since when have you been the type to play games?"

"i'm not playing games," dan heng rested a hand on the counter, "just wanted to prove to you that you need help," he rested his other hand on the other side, unintentionally caging you between him.

you huff, "fine! fine. i cave. you've tempted me too much."

dan heng's eyes softened as you relent, patiently holding your apple in the air as you wait for him to get a knife and another apple. dan heng doesn't mention the fact that you've gotten an early head start with your quarterly peeled apple. he knows he'll win this anyway.

"ready?" you ask him, tossing your apple up in the air.

"yeah," he waits for you to catch the apple in your hands, "three. two. one. go!"

you and dan heng begin skinning the apples quickly. your hands are unwavering and arrhythmic, while dan heng's hands are agile and dexterous. the peel of dan heng's apple has already extended farther than yours. you try not to focus on it as you try your best to peel your apple just as fast.

there you go again. dan heng stops peeling his apple to look at you. you're struggling a little bit, but you're not doing particularly awful. your tongue has stuck out again, and you are completely absorbed in peeling. your eyes are narrowed and your grasp is firm.

dan heng looks at his apple. he's nearly done, and yet you were only halfway there (even though you got a head start). you were fully engrossed in peeling, yet you have barely made it three quarters around the apple. but you look so enthralled in such a trivial thing, and who is dan heng to take that look away from you? that oh-so determined look, where your eyebrows are contorted together and your tongue is sticking out. that look, which makes you look like the only person in the world.

you are the only person in the world. it's late and the kitchen is as dim as always. yet still, your light always finds a way to peek through. dan heng thinks you've been glowing a lot these past few days (and nights). dan heng isn't one to preach immortality, but he hopes that this moment between the two of you will last forever.

dan heng stops peeling his apple.

he watches as your fingers begin to move more quickly, evading the knife's blade as you peel the apple a little bit faster than before. you didn't need his help. a small piece of his heart sinks at that; after that one night⎯a few nights ago⎯he's been secretly envisioning the warmth of your hand on his. not like he'd let anyone else know that, though.

you don't even notice that he's watching you. you're so intent on skinning the apple that you fail to notice that dan heng has been watching you this entire time with fond smile growing on his face. all you can focus on now is the proximity of the knife from your fingers; how fast you need to move your fingers so they don't get cut; how much skin you're cutting off.

when you're finally done, you squeal, jolting up and hitting your head on one of the cabinets. while you spend time rubbing your head, dan heng slices off the final piece of skin on his apple during your distracted state, effectively making him the loser of the challenge.

once you've recovered, you turn over to dan heng to see him holding his apple in one hand and apple peel in another. his expression is neutral, though he is trying his best to remain calm on the inside. could you have noticed that he let you win?

"okay, i didn't see who won, so be honest with me," you turn your body to face dan heng, "who won?"

dan heng could very easily lie and say he won. he could witness your pout and your complaints, muttering something about how you're "sick of him" yet continue to spend the night with him anyway. he could gloat and brag and show you how to peel apples properly.

"you won," he lied, as he was trying to fake a defeated expression.

your eyes lit up the entire kitchen in that moment. the grin that easily broke out on your face matched the stars outside of the express. in fact, your ardent expression could very well be equivalent to the wonders of the universe itself. there was something so brilliant and indrescrible in the way your entire face simply bloomed when you felt accomplished.

and even though dan heng lost at apple peeling, he won at something else. seeing your eyes gleam so brightly in dim light was a treat in itself. it was the reason for the blood rushing up to his cheeks; the reason why electricity was flowing through his veins right now; why he felt so tingle-ish all over.

"see! what did i tell you," you playfully pushed his shoulder. dan heng tries to remember what your millisecond of touch felt like on his skin. you continue gloating, "you're all talk," you smirked, cutting an apple slice.

"am not," dan heng pretended to scoff. he looked down at the counter to try and hide the smile that was finding its way on his face. you are the reason for that too: your grin was practically contagious.

"aw, don't sulk dan heng," you mocked. you put brush your index finger on the bottom of dan heng's chin, gently tilting it upwards. dan heng's smile faded, as he was caught off guard by the action. with eyes that darted up instantly, and eyebrows that raised astonishedly, dan heng looks up at you.

"i'm sure you'll win next time," you simpered, tapping a spot on his cheek, "just try not to talk a lot of shit next time, okay?" you snicker, offering dan heng the apple slice you just cut.

dan heng rolls his eyes at your comment, yet he takes the apple anyway. unintentionally, he hides his other hand behind his back, while his dominant hand retrieves the apple slice.

your eyes squint as you watched his hands. usually⎯you've noticed⎯dan heng puts his hands at his sides. they're either propping him up, in his pockets, or leaning somewhere. more importantly, they're always near you. but tonight, one hand is placed behind his back, away from you.

you quickly connect the dots, your illuminated eyes now dimming. dan heng looks up from when he was eating the apple, only to see your eyes turning bleary.

"hey, is your hand okay?" your eyebrows scrunch up, and your eyes flicker to dan heng's for a split second, only to reorient back to his concealed hand.

dan heng stared at you for moment, squinting his eyes as he tried to determine what you were staring at, "my hand's fine."

your eyebrows still remain curt, and your eyes are still narrowed, "c'mon, you don't have to lie to me."

"what?"

"your hand, dumbass," you pointed to the hand he held behind him, "if you were injured, you should have told me. you matter more to me than a stupid game," you say it frustratedly, huffing and biting the inside of your lip to prevent yourself from saying more. "i can take care of you," is on the tip of your tongue, but you choose to hold it back for now.

dan heng bewilderedly blinked at you a few times. you thought he had cut his hand? he matters to you more than winning?

"uh," he moved his hand away from his back, now holding it in front of you, "i didn't cut my hand."

dan heng's hand is fine. it's pristine, and it looks as callous as you remembered. his hands are practically divine⎯like a gift given from the aeons. long and rough and delicate despite it all. there was no cut adorning the pale flesh.

without thinking, you run your fingers tenderly along his palm, turning his hand over and staring at it astoundedly.

"oh," you whisper.

dan heng cannot hear anything other than his own heartbeat. you touch him so reverently, so softly. his breathing started to become quicker and more shallow, and he sincerely hopes that the kitchen is dark enough to hide the subtle tint of red embellishing his face.

oh.

oh.

"even if i cut myself, i think i'd be okay," dan heng says in a quiet manner, reassuring you.

your eyes jump towards his quickly, before noticing how you were practically caressing his hands. out of immense mortification, you attempt to pull your hand away as fast as you can; only for it to be grabbed back and interlocked with dan heng's hand.

you gawk at the sight until you look back up at dan heng. his eyes are silently pleading for you to not let go, and you're starting to wonder if he actually did cut his finger. because why else would he act like this?

your entire body feels like it's on fire. dan heng looks at you with such intensity that you can feel yourself burning. his hands are cold, which helps you cool down from his gaze.

you swallow, "you're an idiot," you lightly shake your head as you squeeze his hand, "what if it gets infected?"

dan heng relishes in the feeling of your hand in his. he doesn't know what spirit possessed him to grab your hand, but he is forever grateful. and when you squeezed his hand with yours, a part of him evaporated into the stars, swirling around and dancing in the vast universe.

dan heng shrugs at your question, and you look personally offended, "stop. we're friends," you ignore how your heart shrivels and burns at the description, "we take care of each other. and⎯i don't care⎯i'll always be pleased to take care of you," you squeeze his hand one more time, and you feel his thumb come up and brush over the top of your hand. you try your best not to scream.

you glance at the peeled apple next to you, sitting on a napkin on the counter. your eyebrows slightly raise up when an idea flows through your head. to dan heng's (and your) dismay, you untangle your fingers out of dan heng's grasp. he wants nothing more than to grab your hand and entwine it back in his fingers, but he's curious when he sees you grab the apple from the counter.

you cut another slice out of the fruit, placing the apple back on the counter after you were done. you turn back to dan heng, still caged underneath him. you are not complaining.

"open," you quietly instruct.

dan heng, with some chasteness, does what he's told. he parts his lips halfway, leaving enough room for you to hold the apple slice to his mouth. your fingers are so close to his mouth when you insert the apple between his lips. dan heng tries not to think about it too much, because if he does, he's ninety-nine percent sure he would combust.

you give him a half smile when he chews and swallows the apple, "good job. see, i just took care of you."

his eyes crinkle, "aren't you hungry too?"

"eh. i'm not the biggest apple fan."

dan heng's eyebrows furrow, "then, why were you cutting an apple earlier?"

"you like apples."

he feels his heart (and body at that) melt away. in this moment⎯the two of you being so close in near darkness⎯lasts forever. dan heng is not too fond of 'forever,' but right now, he truly hopes that he is subservient to you for years on end. for he cannot envision a happy life without you in it. he can't even envision regular life without you in it.

dan heng lets out a breathy chuckle; it sounds more like a light scoff than a laugh. his head drops down; he tries to conceal the grin that is about to burst on his face.

when he looks back up, you are there. you are always there. there is reassurance in you: you are security, you are safety, and you are reliance.

dan heng says something about oranges. about them and their peels. about how you two could have an orange peeling contest next time.

because with you, dan heng knows, there will always be a next time.

bonus:

"you like oranges, do you want me to peel those for you more often?"

"you already peel them for me, idiot," you roll your eyes, "i still don't understand why you don't let me peel them."

"it's so i can win orange peeling competitions," dan heng nonchalantly shrugs, laughing when you slap his shoulder.

"you're annoying. i can peel my own oranges," you rest your hand on the counter, tapping your fingers on the surface.

"then they'd become weapons, not fruits," dan heng teased you, moving his hand closer to yours. he's not holding it. not now, at least. because for now, everything is enough. the apples are enough, the oranges are enough, and most importantly: you are enough.

he's quite satisfied.

[aphrodisiac-siren]

Words left unspoken

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Summary: When writing a love letter for one of your ladies' maids, you start to remember your own feelings for Aemond who you were separated from for years and then all of a sudden you find yourself reminded of how much you are head over heels for the prince.

Part 1

Part 2

Aemond’s POV

Aemond peeked into the chambers he was passing by as he walked along the long and spacious hallways of the castle. It wasn’t in his nature to be prodding, to be nosy enough to peer through people’s quarters but then again, he wasn’t really intruding anyone’s privacy for the room he had glanced toward once belonged to his dear friend: princess Y/N.

Her chambers remained empty after her departure from the Keep and he was glad. The prince couldn’t care less to be rather honest but the boy within him wouldn’t let anyone take residence in her quarters.

It had become somewhat of a subconscious gesture for him to have a little peek inside her room, of which the doors always stayed ajar. It was no longer littered with pretty frocks of the most expensive fabrics or beautifully hand crafted toys that used to, for some reason, always stay sprawled on her floor. He didn’t know when this habit formed nor did he know why; it was not as if he would find her sitting there in front of her mirror, brushing her beautiful hair and then smiling when she saw him in the mirror, standing at the door awaiting to walk her to break their fast together.

Still, he didn’t try to break the habit. This was all he had left of her, apart from the tall stack of her letters that he had kept. He missed her, very dearly but he feared it was too late for him to make amends so he instead just read her letters over and over. For all he knew, she could be betrothed to another noble whilst away at Dragonstone. He often caught himself wanting to be the man who would one day get to announce to the world that she was his wife. Gods, he couldn’t bare the thought of her betrothal being made to Jace. He would throw himself off the cliffs of the Vale and then haunt the boy till kingdom come.

But then again, he had to remind himself he was in no position to get so possessive. Especially since the both of them hadn’t written in years. He had wished to send a letter, so very desperately and he had written one as well- one he was far too afraid to send at first.

Finally getting over his nerves, he rolled up the parchment and poured the wax over it to seal it shut before placing a stamp over the hot wax; the one that had the symbol of a dragon. Once the wax had cooled and hardened, he sent it out with a raven, heart beating even faster than usual.

He’d written it just the night before and he remembered each and every word, as if the script was etched into his mind, as if it was something he'd been reciting to himself each night before he slept.

Ñuha dārilaros [My princess] Y/N,

I know I have not written to you in years although I must say, to me it feels like it has been several lifetimes. The distance between has grown so vast over the course of these few years that now I fear it is a distance I may never be able to lesson. I know I could’ve written and I did not and all I have is my foolish pride to blame.

Try as I might, this might be something I am unable to mend, something out of my control; like how it was never in my power to make my dragon egg hatch. And even though I did claim the mighty Vhagar, queen of the skies I will forever be tormented over never being able to call you mine, dāria hen ñuha prūmia [queen of my heart] for the notion of being able to win you back seems far more onerous than claiming the largest dragon in the world. I do not expect you to write back, I would not hold you at fault for your ignorance after I have treated you with nothing less than the same but I do hope, you will grant me the charitable courtesy of informing me that this letter has reached you well, even if it is in the form of simply a piece of parchment with your initials lazily sprawled on it.

It is of importance for me to know that you are aware of my regrets and the space in my heart that you occupy for I am sure, that the gods have crafted me solely to be complete by you, which is why every time my heart begins to hammer ferociously in my chest, a reminder that I am alive, I always find myself thinking of you in those moments and I feel as though if I let you slip away completely, then this heart of mine will cease to beat for if it isn’t beating for you, it won’t at all.

I am aware this might sound absurd, to hear such words after years of not exchanging any but you must believe me when I say that despite my lack of letters, you never left my mind- not even for a single day. There were times when I had to resist the urge to mount Vhagar and show up at Dragonstone and weep at your door, begging for you to come back for this old castle radiates no warmth if you aren’t residing within it. Just the same as I am cold and distant without you at my side.

The last time I saw you, in the flesh, I was only a boy of ten. I was a foolish lad to not see what the gods had blessed me with until you were taken away. It is both cruel and ironic how I was blind while having both my eyes but then being able to see the truth clearly only after I had one taken away. I had fallen for you and have continued to fall for you each day that has passed since our last farewell. And truth be told, I do not think I shall ever stop falling for you, for hidden beneath this stoic monstrous prince is a boy who is still clinging on to the tiny fragments of hope that you too might feel the same.

If you find it in your heart to forgive me for my faults influenced by my own pride, I should like to mend and rekindle the bond we once shared and if you will have me back, if not as your prince then at the very least as your friend, I should like that very much.

Aōhon va moriot, Aemond [Yours always]

Aemond heaved a sigh as he walked passed her chambers, finally tearing his gaze from the room but not because he wanted to; he could spend hours just staring and daydreaming. No, the only reason he brought himself to look away was that someone had called out for him- a servant.

“A raven arrived earlier, my lord” the younger boy bowed out of respect, holding up a letter bearing a seal of a pale lilac-coloured wax- something Aemond hadn’t seen in years but recognised instantly “a letter from Dragonstone”

Aemond was aware in that moment he might’ve come across as a lad who was being given sweets after weeks of starvation for he snatched that scroll with such urgency he could feel his cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

“You may leave” he gruffly spoke, dismissing the boy as he turned on his heels to find solace in Y/N’s old room to read the letter he’d just received.

A letter from her.

He took only a moment to trace the wax seal as he sat on the bed that once belonged to the princess before impatience once again took over and he broke the seal with a new level of urgency.

His eyes scanned the text and Aemond felt as though he couldn’t read fast enough, through he feared his heart was sure to break free from his rib cage for there seemed to be no limit to how fast that was beating.

Her handwriting differed slightly and Aemond knew he was absolutely head over heels for her if he managed to notice something as subtle as that.

His lips involuntarily curled into a smile as he continued to read, and he immediately shot up to his feet as soon as he finished reading all of it.

He dashed down the hallways, hoping to catch that servant boy who had delivered him the letter that he was holding so delicately in his large hand, one might think it was made from glass instead of paper.

“You!” He bellowed when he caught sight of him, a couple of metres away from himself “ready my dragon and my horse to ride to the dragon pit”

Aemond could care less about the scolding he’d receive from his mother or the teasing from his older brother. All he could think of was Y/N. His sweet princess who still cared for him and there was nothing and no one who would come between him and his princess now. He was sure his letter must’ve reached her by now but he did not care and judging by the words she’d written to him, she too was smitten by him. A wave of relief washed over him and provided him with a new sort of confidence.

He would fly to Dragonstone and ask for her hand. He couldn’t thank the gods enough and this time, he would not lose her. This time he would make her his once and for all.

For what is a prince without his princess?

A dragon without its wings?

Aemond without his Y/N?

Nothing. And that was something the prince was not too keen on being.

"I'm coming for you, my princess, my Y/N" he muttered to himself as he headed for the stables "and I am never letting you go again"

Taglist: @beiigegalx

[vertebrae-entertainment]

05.07.2023 - FAIL FAST

When people get into game development the first bit of advice they get is often a variation of "fail faster". Make small games first, don't jump right into your giant dream game, don't waste time on polishing things to perfection, get your game out as fast as possible, etc. This can feel insulting. Like come on, I'm here because I want to make good games. And you're telling me to aim for mediocrity?

Unfortunately, they have a point.

Most of the breakout indie game hits that seemingly came out of nowhere didn't actually come out of nowhere. Toby Fox made romhacks for Earthbound and music for Homestuck before Undertale, with Undertale itself intended as a smaller first game to get their footing before starting on the more ambitious Deltarune. Notch worked on Wurm Online and multiple gamejam games before Minecraft, which itself was inspired by Zachtronics' Infiniminer. Cactus was known among indie game devs as a prolific award winning game developer before Hotline Miami, and some of his freeware games like Mondo Medicals went viral with youtube letsplayers at the time. And the Hollow Knight team did several game jams together, with the main character's design actually coming from a game jam they did back in 2013. The story about an indie game developer hitting it big with their first game sounds great, but in reality it's rarely if ever true. Like with other artforms, most art is built on years of practice and standing on the shoulders of previous works.

When people recommend starting small some of it is about survival in a capitalist world. -Making games gets expensive, and most games don't even break even. So if you put yourself in debt to make your game you're probably screwed. -Game development takes time, and the industry moves fast. So what seemed like an interesting idea or relevant topic at the start of development might be outdated by the time you're done. -Game development is unpredictable, with many games getting reworked or scrapped in the middle of development. So if you set aside 5 years on a game idea you might find yourself 3 years in with an idea that doesn't work and no backup plan.

But even if you don't care about all that and your primary motivation is the raw artistic quality of your game, there are still reasons to consider it.

Game development is a craft that incorporates a lot of different disciplines on top of being an artform of its own. You'll often flex creative muscles that saw little use before you started with game development, and get used to tools you never used before. So if you've worked on a game for 5 years, your standards will be completely different by the time you're done. The latest animation is higher quality than the first one you drew. The first song you composed is grating on your ears. It took you 20 levels to get the hang of level design. So you go back and update the oldest bits to match the quality of the latest bits. Months pass and now a different animation looks outdated. So you go back. And unless you reign yourself in, you'll never finish the game because you're always chewing on the oldest part. Finishing fast therefore makes your game more coherent and cohesive overall, on top of avoiding a major timesink that could threaten your game from ever getting finished.

Finishing fast also makes you more familiar with the whole process of making a game. What do you do when the exciting honeymoon period is over and you have to stare at the same level for weeks on end to polish things? What do you do near the end of development when you realize that you promised multiple languages and you suddenly need to set up support for different languages and also find someone to translate? What do you do at release when you have to take feedback from a bunch of strangers playing your game and giving the bluntest unfiltered criticism and pointing out flaws you missed? If you spend year after year starting new megaprojects you become an expert at the first 10% of game development, but you don't get any experience with the remaining 90% and that can be a huge issue when you finally get there.

Finishing fast lets you learn from past mistakes. Mistakes are important, especially in an unpredictable field like game development. A lot of the time, you can't know what to avoid until you've crashed into it at least once. Not just on a big macro scale, like knowing that your favourite game engine can't do certain things well, but also on a tiny micro scale, like knowing that you can avoid an annoying collision bug by running collision checks in a certain order, that a certain colour combination doesn't work with colour blindness, or that this one word is actually pretty offensive abroad.

And importantly, the topic of next week's blogpost: having games under your belt gives you the power of recycling.

Next week I'll get into some more concrete examples of how old Vertebrae games help us build Fangst.

-Åge

[vacationguidesblog]

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[creamcitywriter]

I see the sunrise everyday. If it’s shining I feel the rays beat down on my skin for the 8 hours I’m at work, developing a dark tan in the summer. In the winter, still out there, feeling the wind bite my face, I spit more, cold saliva pooling up on my tongue. And though I never will, I often threaten to relocate to Arizona. It’s better working in the cold; throw on some more layers, move faster, and you’re fine. During those cold and dark months, I also see the sunset everyday- sunrise to sunset I'm out there, putting in my time.

When we’re working in the floor trusses- running stay or skirt and rim board, or working on the roof, when we’re the tallest thing around save for the elevator shaft that we’re building up to, you can see for miles. When I get a free second I look out and just breathe, smile. Because I’m on top.

I was at a job in Walkers Point. Every morning the sun would rise over Lake Michigan and we’d see it come up over the horizon, breaking around the buildings downtown. We’d watch as the city wakes up, hear it come to life. You roll out your tools, and before we’d get rolling just take a second and appreciate it. “Not every job gives you views like this”, you think, and you’re off flying. You work and work, focused on the task at hand, and when you finally get another second to yourself, the city has caught up with you. Cars stop and go, honking, people walking and shouting. That has been my favorite job so far, in the two years I’ve been doing this. It takes that title just for the views.

If you would have asked me at 15, 16, or 17 years old, I’d never say that I want to be a carpenter. Maybe, just maybe, I could’ve put up with finish work for a season. See, I was a creative, too good for physical labor, too good to hump lumber around. The fruits of my labor were to come from my mighty mighty intellect, from the worlds created in the stories I’d write. I had no fantasies about being rich, I knew the life of a writer was one of poverty and hunger, especially if they refused to have any other sort of income, which I imagined I would- partly out of Respect For My Craft, but mostly due to the fact that I couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else. I resided in a world of pure fantasy, enthralled with the lives of the Great Beat Writers and The Great Travellers- Christopher McCandless specifically, though it was more than simple hero worship of a guy who starved to death. It was love with a lifestyle I had never lived. With The Great Push West and the hobo walking down the line, always on the lookout for that big rock candy mountain, a bundle of all he has tied together in a bag on a stick.

But life comes and I had to have some plan for mine after high school besides “write”. Just as big as my desire to write was my fear of living and dying in this little corner of the world. Terrified of ending up having stayed at the same fast food job, smoking and drinking, writing barely enough to justify my lack of life progression. So I said fuck it, applied for community college (primarily out of financial concerns, but also because I did not try at all in high school), and decided on becoming a teacher. English or history, my two favorite subjects. I tried a little more there, but it felt like more of the same. Still living at home, still smoking and drinking copiously, and writing. Not much more than I had before, but the quality was far better. Still, I hated it. I was inside all day, I was sitting down all day. I needed to be outside more, and I needed to be doing something, physically.

This led me to land a job at a landscaping and tree nursery company. I recalled seeing, in summers past, acres upon acres of trees and workers out in those fields, digging up or planting trees. I told the boss I wanted to primarily be a nursery worker, and so I was. What I hadn’t known was that last fall they sold 95% of the land the trees were on, so now the nursery was mostly shrubs and flowers. Maybe only 100 trees, if I’m forced to guess.

I was the waterboy. With my hose I’d drag out from the farm house, sat at the front of the property, I gave life to all those plants. Every morning, pulling that hose up and down the rows and rows of hydrangeas, roses, lillies, and hostas. Listening to music, I was discovering the plain and simple joy that can come from work. The pride at looking out at what you’ve accomplished, seeing the physical result of your labor, feeling the sun beat down on your skin. I loved it. I wanted more. I started going out on jobs with the rest of the crews. Humping mulch, soil, stone, or gravel with the wheelbarrow across the yard and dumping it. Digging a hole and putting a tree in, padding the soil down. I loved it. I wanted more, my ego would not be satisfied with making lawns look nice. I decided on some construction trade, only landing on carpentry specifically when I realized they were the ones building the structure.

It took me a while to get there. I took a little detour down in Guatemala with the intention of coming back home to begin my apprenticeship, but that didn’t work out. I went back to work watering plants and humping soil. I wanted more. I was sick of this little shit. I wanted to run with the big boys, looking at the big union construction sites around town fantasizing about being one of them. I tried my hand again at finding a union apprenticeship but no one was hiring anyone as green as me. So I got a job from an ad on craigslist putting up siding. Even though the boss was a hack, I stuck with it for a couple months, getting enough experience with circle saws and nail guns to be hired on at the company I work for now, building eight stories high. Ever since I’ve been putting in time, putting up walls.

It’s hard work. I will stroke my ego and say that not everyone can do it. It’s physically exhausting, and I thought I was in good shape after those two summers of landscaping where I would often put in up to 14 hour days. But during those first few weeks of framing I thought my back would never stand up straight again. A handful of times I would go right to bed when I got home, skipping dinner, too tired to even put a pizza in the oven. 15 hours of sleep a day, multiple times a week.

But I kept with it, getting the hang of nailing a wall together and my body getting used to the physical labor. Seeing the building all put together- the roof completed, everything tied in together, that sense of pride and accomplishment that was so rewarding from making a lawn look nice was magnified tenfold. You can see a couple buildings I worked on from the highways and whenever I drive past them I look for them, point it out to whoever I’m with. “I built that”, I say. Not “I worked on that”, like other trades have to say. No, I built it, I erected it.

But a job is still a job no matter how rewarding. I sometimes still struggle to find excitement at going in when, at 4:45 am, my alarm goes off. I sometimes still have to deal with people I’d rather not know, my body is sometimes still sore and my knees are beginning to crack, I can’t comfortably kneel on one knee like a normal person, and I still have to tough it out, I still want better compensation and to not be exploited for profit. As far as bosses go, my current ones are the best I’ve had, but they are still bosses and still take the surplus value of my labor.

This is a highly rewarding job, but it’s still a job, it’s still something I have to do in order to stay alive and live in relative comfort. I work eight hours a day, 40 hours a week. Far better than the 11-14 hour days, up to 80 hour weeks I worked while landscaping, yet I still feel that there’s simply not enough time left to do the things that I want outside of work, not enough time, at least, to really enjoy them and not count the hours spent on them and the hours left until I have to get to bed and get ready for the next day.

This September, I drove down to the local Quaker meetinghouse, which includes three acres of land along the river that cuts through the city. I was there to do whatever was needed of me by the land preserve committee. Always punctual, I got there 20 minutes before we were supposed to start and sat in my car, waiting, eventually checking out the land. I made a semi circle around the property, walking slow, and when I emerged from the woods, I was greeted by the head of the committee. The first thing I noticed was her shirt, either a thrift find or one she’s had for years. It was deep green with blue jays on it. We had emailed each other a week or two prior and confirmed that we were the face behind the email. She asked me a couple questions about how I even knew what Quakerism is and what drew me to it. I answered these as honestly as I could without divulging my entire, still evolving spiritual journey. She led me to the woods.

On her feet were dirty old sneakers and at her hip was a clipboard. She relayed to me the history of the land preserve. How the original owner, a teacher, who’d canoe down the river to work, wanted to preserve the land. Scared her children would sell it to developers, she donated it to the Quakers. They built the meetinghouse on the land and have been taking care of it ever since. It’s open to the public, a small section of a larger system of trails which follows the river, nearly extending through the entire northern half of the city.

I was led through the land that she talked about intimately, seeming to know exactly where every plant is, and pointing out things that I could do before she would write said task down on her clipboard. When we emerged on the other side, five more people had arrived. A couple in their late 20’s to mid 30’s, with two kids, and another retiree. Names and pleasantries exchanged, they were given an even briefer summary of what led me to Quakerism than I had given, and there were tangerines and cupcakes available on the deck, which I helped myself to before beginning on the work. Before the head of the committee and I parted ways, she reminded me, “Don’t focus on getting as much done as you can. We’re never really done with this. Focus on the joy.”

It must have been around 9:30 by then and we all split up to go to our designated tasks. Everyone except me, the wife, and the two kids, were either in the garden near the parking lot, or out trimming the trees and weeds that sit between the road and parking lot. I clipped a branch that was protruding in the pathway and tossed it into the ravine, the designated brush pile, and I once again meandered my way around the land, lobbing off the branches I was told to as well as any other I decided needed clipping. After that, I went to a path near the trailhead that was pointed out to me, so covered in weeds you could hardly tell there was a path there. I went down on my knees and began yanking. Pulling and twisting, most of them came up with their roots, though it really didn’t matter if the roots came too. Kneeled in the middle of the path, waddling forward as I progressed, pulling the left side first, setting the weeds there in one long pile, what mattered was what I was getting out of this. It was here that I let my mind wander without guidance, my hands grabbing, twisting, and yanking, as I felt a strange sense of peace approaching, a bliss with no strings attached, a sense of pride and accomplishment just for being alive. But, before I could fully arrive, a runner, a common sight during these mornings, ran by with his dog, sending wakes through my near-tranquility.

The path looked better. That is, it was now clearly a path. By no means would it be featured in a landscaping magazine, but that wasn’t the point. The point in me weeding the path was solely to let people know that, “hey, you can walk here”. As I was told by the head of the committee, they don’t try and make it look as aesthetically pleasing as possible in order to draw more people to it. The primary concern is keeping the paths clear of debris. From there, they try to eliminate invasive species, specifically the harmful ones. If they don’t get to the Parent Plant of a harmless yet invasive species before it spreads, they manage it as it comes up. And finally, try and maintain a polyculture. Upon noticing one species beginning to spread faster than normal, they take out a couple, tossing the young plant into the ravine.

There was still one more thing that I knew needed doing, so I headed to the shack and found a pair of clippers bigger than the ones I had, and walked back down the trail. The previous weeks winds had brought a long, skinny limb down smack in the middle of a main path. I grabbed the thicker end, pulled it off the path, and began trimming it down into pieces small enough to carry to the ravine on the other side of the property. The clippers were rather dull, and in some instances I had to maneuver the blades around or, setting one handle on a rock or something, put all my weight down on the other handle, to finally feel them cut through. It was a bit of a pain but I managed to cut the limb into 15-20 sections, and even worked up a bit of a sweat.

From there I hauled the pieces to the ravine and threw them in. With the calm, take-it-easy advice from the head of the committee at the front of my mind and the strange feeling from pulling weeds a fresh memory, I walked slowly across the land. I looked around the canopy. I saw the light from the sun breaking through the space between the leaves and branches before it hit the ground on which I stood.

7-10 trips from the fallen limb to the ravine, the same path every time. Halfway

through, that same feeling from the weed pulling came back. I acknowledged it and kept on hauling the limbs to the ravine and tossing them in, a little apprehensive, scared that being aware of this feeling meant it wouldn’t last, that it was one of those things that you don’t realize what it is until it’s gone. But it arrived, knowing which stop to get off at, and I fully experienced whatever it was, solely from hauling cut limbs without a really concrete end goal.

I’m learning a trade. I’m only two years into this apprenticeship. I have a lot I could still learn, and I want to learn it. And, like any tradesmen, I think my trade is the most important. I mean, how’re you gonna put any mechanical, electrical, or plumbing into a building with no walls?

Learning a trade, becoming efficient in said trade, is a good end. None of my complaints with the work I have stem from a dislike of this end, of learning my trade. Nor do they come from believing that the mastering of a trade is a less than worthy end. What I do dislike is the connecting of money, my livelihood, to that end. Because you don’t feel the same sense of pride and accomplishment forever. Eventually you only want to learn more about the trade and advance up the ranks for the money rather than obtaining new knowledge and experience in the most important job in the world. That honorable and noble end has been cheapened into a means for a different, less than honorable end.

What end does my volunteering work serve? I say that it serves no end. Yes, I am helping to preserve the land while, ideally, experiencing the shining of the inner light that the Quakers talk about, but those ends can never be finished. With learning a trade, you eventually become a journeyman, maybe even a foreman, until you retire, and that is it. But my hauling of branches from path to ravine is a means to a nonphysical, never ending end, for who decides when the land is sufficiently preserved or that I have experienced my fair share of God’s inner light?

[futureailist]

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[financialplanningformillennials]

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[420hamlet]

Boon - Raúl Victoria III (#14)

Unknowingly, I would bring the white horse into the realm of life. All along the climb it had been pounding faster and stronger, getting bigger and heavier with every step, as it filled with the memories, thoughts and feelings of you. I channeled into this, now insignificant, organ, all the love I had for you. Its beating got louder and louder as I captured your whole presence in it. I carried on until finally, I stood at the edge of the cliff. I saw the green fields, thick forests and life in abundance, before putting my heart inside a treasure chest as my boon to be kept. I held it away from me atop the abyss, thought of you for what I believed to be the last time, took a deep breath, and as you slipped from my mind, so did the chest from my hands. I heard its rhythmic beating get farther and farther away from me, and gasped in the enjoyment of freedom for an eternal instant. Until it struck the ground. I heard the chest shatter, and saw your face, heard your laugh and smelled your hair all over again, as the heartbeat returned. From down below it echoed all over the plains, and I ran. I ran fast down the hill, back to my life, dreaming I could simply forget about it all, hoping my heart would die in our separation. It didn’t. I kept hearing it. Then, you fell in love too, and hell followed with it.

I used to believe that the more you know someone the less compatible you became, that the more you know someone the harder it becomes to love them. I’ll never again be more wrong about anything in my life. Every year since I met you, you insisted on climbing the cliff. You always proclaimed its magic, how you could hear the hills’ heartbeat, how this snowy wonderland of cold shouldn’t even exist. You’d always call yourself the culprit, tell how you casted a spell so strong upon this place that you personally had frozen it and brought it to life. I believed you, you brought magic into my world, and with the years I even started waltzing with you to the beating of the hills. You had casted another spell and the brewing love inside me never stopped. Ten years into our relationship, it finally revealed itself. The structure seemed unreal, as if it had been carefully brushed on the landscape by a master of its craft. Realistic beyond reality and statically out of place. Fully impossible, yet utterly undeniable. Perfect polished silver reflecting false renderings of its surroundings and seemingly absorbing all life around it. Your magic showed itself, and you revealed yourself to love. I stood looking at this colder and colder landscape, where naught but a horse could be seen, and I chose you. I chose you to love for life, to live for the love of you. I placed my heart in my hands, treasuring my boon, and I whispered a promise to it. As the horse neighed, I tossed it off the edge. Night came as it hit the ground, the snow turned dark, but the horse and the monolith shone still. You’d chosen me too, and, when the wind began to howl, I heard the noise of thunder.

Finally, we gazed upon it as we stood at the edge of death, holding our hands. As our sights entwined on that third thing in double attention, it seemed to come into life. The once silver rectangle now become a rainbow of bright colors dancing randomly on the solid un-reacting faces of our monolith. We fell to our knees in awe never letting go of our hands. The once green landscape, the then snowy wonderland had all turned to darkness. Dark snow over a dark floor onto which shone a dark light from a dark heaven, all color absorbed by the rainbow whose heartbeat kept getting stronger. This was us. We’d sparked this devourer of beauty. Our love had done this and the monolith would forever expand its consumption. The world shall become a barren land and one day we will crumble, the world will crumble too, but the monolith shall forever stand tall amidst the dark universe of its creation. Eternal in its insatiable destruction of beauty, fueled by our love. The world shall turn to nothing, for without us, that’s all there is. All around there’s cold and pain, but in us we feel warmth and love. All around beauty is lost, but we still have us. Looking into our eyes, we know where all beauty has gone. We never had control over our love and we couldn’t possibly dream to exert it now. The colossal calamity we set upon the world would vanish the traces of beauty from it forever. A great distance would separate us from all which once seemed enchanted. Our magical objects diminished to one; but the monolith was lovelier as we held our boons in our hands.

840 words (420x2).

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[creativeashproductions]

What's a Knife Between Onscreen Family // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Filming an emotionally wrought scene on the set of your current role as a regular goes very wrong very fast. Expecting the scene to be the most taxing of the day you find yourself in the ER getting a transfusion. It’s all fun and games until someone’s holding a sharp knife incorrectly, guess it’s just something in common with co-star Jared Padalecki.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, fear, injuries, hospital, needles, angst, and fluff

Words: 3.5k (including lyrics)

A/N: I watched a part of a panel from a Supernatural con and found it hilarious that Jensen accidently stabbed Jared. So I had to write that for a Charlie Gillespie fic. Link to the video talking about the stabbing is right below this message.

Jensen Ackles Accidentally Stabbed Jared Padalecki during filming From 1:00-6:00

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Masterlist

It had to be one of the most emotionally taxing scenes in your entire career as an actress on a physically demanding show. The scene had been incredibly mentally draining the daughter of a Winchester. It had been once season recurring, one series regular and now filming the third season. As the teenage Winchester, it threw a wrench in all the plans and the reckless character gave no shits.

“Okay, this is our last scene for the day!” Robert Singer, the director of his episode, called out from off stage. Standing at the top of the stairs in the Bunker, you jumped in close with a scrunched nose at the squishy sound.

Over the railing, both Jared and Jensen nodded their support from the ground level with concerned expressions. Ever since you joined the cast in season 13, they had become fathers to you. The sight of you drenched in stage blood was enough to churn their stomachs.

“I gave you the barebones of the scene so work with it. Briar’s traumatized after fighting for her life and has been gone for a while.” Robert explained, “Cas couldn’t find her. I want this to be a tribute like Dean in season 10 episode 14: The Executioner’s Song.”

Taking a deep breath in your emotions channelled into a hurricane in your chest, clenching your fingers on the knife.

“Action!”

Pacing the floor plan of the Bunker is two brothers bonded by sorrow, pain, sacrifice and love. Each throwing out locations on where Briar could be, Jack and Cas had been little help. Sam’s heart clenched tight bypassing images straight to torture. The kind of torture he had endured over the years.

Dean’s mouth opened to suggest another place when the Bunker door creaked open. The red converse appeared before the soggy jeans as the teen slowly made her way down the steps. Briar Winchester shook like a leaf staring off in the distance as the blood congealed on her face and hands.

“Briar.” Dean slowly spoke, moving towards the girl. His green eyes lit up in fury as the seventeen-year-old flinched back. Dean’s hand gently took the stained knife from the young girl.

“I-I didn’t mean to do it.” The meek voice appeared so unlike the usual confidence Briar talked with. In exhaustion, Briar’s knees collapsed, sending the teen right into Dean’s arms.

The stoic man gripped the youngest Winchester as his waist bearing her weight against his while Sam circled to be behind Dean. The choked sob echoed by another escaped the family huddle; one from Briar and the other from Dean.

“Dad.” Briar choked clenching her arms around the green-eyed adult’s shoulders, craving the safety of her father.

Ever since Dean could remember he had had a strict rule of always practising safe sex, he didn’t want a kid. Not in a world that had it out for Winchesters and not one where he might hold his child’s dead body in his arms. That all changed when Cas delivered Dean to a county jail where Briar was held just for a minor assault charge on a wealthy bully.

Dean never let himself want a future with the picket fence and the dog in the backyard but when Briar changed that. Dean would do anything for his family no matter the cost. Example: Selling his soul for Sam.

“Sh.” Dean spoke kissing the crown of her hair he savoured having his child safe in his arms, “I’ll help you to the bathroom to get cleaned up. We’ll heat some soup and toast.”

On autopilot, Dean helped Briar down the hall to the bathroom where she would freshen up and later burn the unsalvageable clothing. As Dean returned to Sam’s side, Castiel came with a sombre expression and an explanation.

“Dean. Sam.” Cas greeted them, flicking his blue gaze between the two brothers. The faint sound of the shower only picked up by the trained heightened sense of hearing from years of watching over their backs.

“Cas what the hell happened?” Dean demanded, “Why the hell is my little girl bruised and coated in blood?”

END FILMING SCENE

“Cut!” Robert called out to the large room with a big smile on his face, “I’ll watch it back. See if we need more takes.”

Jared and Jensen wiped the tears that fell from their cheeks just thinking on how wrought that scene felt. As fathers seeing a young adult in such a state severely agonized them. The duo jogged to see your back against the cold wall—a pinched expression marring your young face.

“How are you feeling after that?” Jensen asked, coming closer to squeeze your shoulders unfazed by the sticky fake blood. It was already all over his clothes from hugging you in character.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to have sharp objects.” You spoke glancing down at your knee that had been punctured by the knife. The dark jeans soaked in stage blood now concealed the real blood.

 “Jensen, did you really stab another person.” Jared deadpanned his best friend referencing back a few years. Jared shoved one hand through his hair, receiving a nasty glare from the hairstylist on call.

The glare on Jensen’s face blistered the taller actor, “I didn’t stab you. You walked into the knife.”

The two bickered as they guided you back to the main stage where Robert had reached a final verdict. He had watched the replay twice along with his crew finding the raw emotion to be perfect. The little detail the three had added was well played. Dean unexpectedly consoling his daughter in tears; no threats to kill or push her to tell him what happened. The first time Briar referring to Dean as her father. Lastly, Sam’s unsure actions in consoling a young girl sucked into life like he was in his youth.

“We got a one-take winner!” Robert called out sending the entire crowd into loud applause and cheers. Jared taking most of your weight as you hobbled to the costume trailer.

The lovely costume designers helped remove the sticky shirt, jewellery and the red converse that had once been white. Only the jeans remained on your body to not mess with the wound. As much as you’d love to shower the blood off, it was near impossible, moving your knee stung and it was best to avoid aggravating it.

“Someone needs to ban Jensen from knives. Just wait till his wife finds out about this, she adores Y/N.” Martha chuckled from her sketches she designed on her breaks for a future in fashion design. Often in your free time, you would be her guinea pig with her designs using refurbished material.

Normally the banter would continue but not when your leg was bleeding, and Jared was taking you to the ER. To make time faster, Jared had scooped you into his arms to the black car their driver waited in.

“Towels are in place. Sorry, you got hurt, Kid.” Clif spoke, opening the door to the backseat where Jensen sat patiently. Unlike usual, he had seated himself in the front so you could stretch in the back.

A weak chuckle met air in the packed car from the blood loss that wasn’t overly bad but enough that Jared took the towel. His pressure on the wound caused a yelp that had Jensen flinching in guilt.

“The knife must have been sharp to cut a mouse in half,” Clif muttered turning towards the hospital close to set. Coincidently the drive took you passed the set your boyfriend currently filmed at.

“Might as well call me butter.” You retorted wincing at the throbbing pain, “You aren’t allowed any more sharp objects, Mr. Ackles.”

“Danneel already threatened to hide all the knives in the house.” The on-screen father laughed as the tension decreased in the small car. Despite the dizziness, it didn’t hide the guilt in Jensen’s green eyes.

Time flew by as you found yourself in a bed for observation and pictures for the knee. It came as a shock when the doctor requested one blood transfusion for the blood loss. The hope of being in and out had evaporated like water beads on a blistering summer day.

Julie and the Phantoms Set

Charlie adored his life as an actor where he was free to visit places, he might not have had the opportunity to do. He made friends with everyone he spoke to and even met the love of his life as an actor as well.

That being said today had been the longest one with a full schedule and barely time for lunch or snacks. Even a nap was unachievable, and he desperately wanted one for being awake for hours by now.

“Charlie! Did you know you’ve got missed calls?” Jeremy inquired, staring at the phone that went black once more. Charlie’s eyebrows came together at the mention. His family had the rough outline of times he would be unavailable to talk.

Stepping back from the craft table’s supper options, he lifted the phone from the table, bringing it to life. His lock screen showing multiple missed calls and voicemails from you, his family and two unknown numbers.

His jaw dropped further when Meghan called for the first time out of the group, “Megs?”

“Finally! Where have you been?” Meghan demanded pacing in the studio she had been using when she got the call. The pretty and successful young woman had gotten terrified at learning about Y/N.

“Filming? It’s the longest day of filming the show. It’s on the family schedule.” Charlie spoke, settling into one of the empty tables. His eyes watching the people entering and exiting the tent set up for food.

“Jesus. Mom called me when you didn’t pick up. Y/N’s in the hospital.” Meghan revealed sending the Canadian actor into a stiff posture. His hazel eyes blow wide and panic flooding his entire system.

“What?!” Charlie didn’t mean to shout nor turn paler than a piece of white paper, but it happened. The volume contracting looks from everyone in the vicinity. Owen even dropped the donut back in the box by the volume.

“She got stabbed with a knife. I sent the address earlier, and I haven’t gotten a lot of info.” Meghan told her older brother, “I know she’s getting a blood transfusion, but nothing else was released.”

Charlie couldn’t tell you what happened between Meghan telling him and reaching the hospital frantically. Nor could he figure out how Owen was in the back of the Uber with him guiding him through exercises; all thanks to Owen’s therapist for his anxiety.

His sneakers squeaked on the polished white floor in his mission to the receptionist transferring information from a chart to digital. Charlie’s painting brought him attention from the kind nurse acknowledging his presence.

“Just let me finish this one sentence.” The nurse hummed saving the information before turning their full attention to the frazzled male, “How can I help you?”

“What room is Y/N Y/L/N in? She was stabbed and needed a transfusion.” Charlie demanded deflating as Owen placed a hand on his shoulder. The Canadian’s eyes bright with panic and a deep fear

The nurse’s eyes softened, “I can’t give out information on patients unless your immediate family members.”

“I’m here-“

“Husband! He’s her husband, they eloped so she hasn’t changed her last name or updated her information.” Owen blurted out, rubbing the pad of his index finger on the black jeans he had worn for his role. The two hadn’t even bothered changing into their street clothing.

The nurse nodded their head-turning back to the computer to enter the name for the patient for the information. It took seconds before the nurse wrote on the miscellaneous sticky note of the ward and room number.

“My name is Riley. If you need any help, you can come back here, and I’ll do my best to give you answers.” Nurse Riley informed the duo with a kind smile nodding in the direction of your hospital room.

Owen’s long legs ate up the distance Charlie made in his sprint to the stairwell, “Shouldn’t we take the elevator?”

“My girlfriend is in a hospital bed. I can’t wait for an elevator.” Charlie rebuked the suggestion on the second flight. Owen’s sigh was the last sound made as the duo slammed into the door to the floor level.

Charlie and Owen appeared in the doorway of your hospital room panting from the exertion meeting the gaze of two actors. Charlie’s heart stuttered at the sight of the high volume of blood in your clothing and your hair.

The sharp gasp brought your attention to the shaking Canadian actor solely focused on scanning for wounds. His eyes barely staying on the two adult males you had been starring with for a few years. Schedule conflicts often led to no introduction to each other’s co-stars.

“What the hell?” Charlie choked stumbling to the chair beside your hospital bed next to the pole holding a blood bag, “Did you get mugged? Are you okay?��

“Char, take a breath, man.” Owen’s blue eyes shadowed with the worry as Charlie’s breathing shuddered. Owen could barely look at you covered in blood.

“Whoa! Charlie. I’m fine. This is stage blood. We had an intense scene, and there was a minor accident.” Your voice soothed the man gently taking Charlie’s hand to comfort him, “I lost a bit of blood. The doctor decided to give me a blood transfusion to bring my levels back up a bit before stitching it up.”

“How do you get stabbed accidently?” Owen questioned glancing at the two men standing silently in the corner. Due to contracts on the Supernatural set details of scenes and storylines was off-limits.

“Well, during filming, I took a knife from her, and she walked into the blade?” Jensen trailed off, shoving his elbow into Jared’s side at the scoff. It happened every time it was brought up.

“I-“Charlie blinked, shaking his head as he took a deep sigh in pushing that to the back burner to focus solely on you. His hand rubbed his face while he settled on squeezing your one hand in both of his.

The touch of your skin grounding him back to earth with the shattering visions of walking into the world without you. It would be both ways, the second his calloused warm skin brushed your hands; it was like the pain faded. Only a sense of content settled in your weary bones.

“Okay Miss Y/L/N.” Dr. Clancy walked into the room only halting to grab a pair of medical gloves, “I see your entourage grew. I’m Doctor Jim Clancy, and you must be Miss Y/L/N’s husband.”

Three pairs of eyes widened at the doctor’s words aimed towards the brunette actor turning a blushing mess. The words mouthed by Charlie to go with it gave barely any insight, but you did it. The moment you had a free minute with Charlie, you would interrogate him in the new title you had.

“Yeah, my husband.” You spoke flicking an expression to Jensen and Jared that caught on from the years together. They had taken you under their wing on your first day on set, and then you became family with their immediate family.

“I can confirm that my initial observation is that the wound doesn’t have anything that shouldn’t be in there. We stopped the bleeding, the x-ray came clean, we’ll set you up with IV fluid, and tetanus shot to be safe.”

“Nurse Gellar here will cut the rest of the jeans off, get you in a gown for a few hours of observation. Just a precaution for blood transfusions. We’ll have some scrubs you can wear when you can leave.” Dr. Clancy motioned to the tall redhead with a quiet demeanour.

Charlie’s lips lingered on your temple at the fear that flared in your expressive eyes, he would give anything to take your place. He softly sang your couple song as a whimper fell from your lips as the jean tugged the dried blood from the wound. The painful pressure felt as you guessed it had started to bleed again, the feel of liquid rolling down your skin, confirming it.

“I’ll sing anything.” Charlie whispered going through his mental catalogue of songs on your shared playlist, “Oh!”

I’m booking myself a one-way flight

 I gotta see the color in your eyes

 And telling myself I’m gonna be alright

 Without you baby is a waste of time

The tears falling no longer came from the pain but the sheer amount of love you had for the man there. Eyes glittering with pure adoration as his voice came off absolutely heart-melting. So, lost in each other neither of you noticed Owen had been filming from the moment Charlie had said ‘oh’.

Yeah, our first date, girl, the seasons changed

 It got washed away in a summer rain

 You can’t undo a fall like this

 ’Cause love don’t know what distance is

 Yeah, I know it’s crazy

Charlie’s hand slowly slid up your arms to cup your tear-streaked tacky cheeks in his warm grip. The hospital faded as it became just you and Charlie. Completely oblivious at the audience in the room.

“He loves her,” Jensen whispered to Jared out of the camera frame that the blonde-haired kid’s phone. It was such a pure moment it felt disrespectful to see this exchange but also honoured to see it firsthand.

“I’ve only seen the look in your eyes for Danneel,” Jared replied, cupping his hands over his face listening to the near inaudible wet chuckle you gave.

“As I have between you and Gen. They have the real kind of love.” 

But I don’t want “good”, and I don’t want “good enough.”

 I want “can’t sleep, can’t breathe without your love”

 Front porch and one more kiss, it doesn’t make sense to anybody else

“Charlie.” You sobbed at the best part of your life serenading you in such a romantic moment at the odd setting—his hazel gaze greener in what would come to be a very dear memory to reminisce about.

The calloused thumb caressing your cheek wiping a teardrop away he continued to see as the doctor finished suturing the wound. 

Nothing mattered other than the couple currently in a bubble.

Who cares if you’re all I think about,

 I’ve searched the world and I know now,

 It ain’t right if you ain’t lost your mind.

 Yeah, I don’t want easy, I want crazy

 Are you with me baby? Let’s be crazy

Charlie’s voice faded with the rest of the song bringing you back to reality with the nurse cleaning up around the wound. That’s how the rest of the day went on waiting for the blood transfusion and IV fluids to finish. You stuffed the tetanus shot while Charlie sang between different genres.

“Thank you.” You softly spoke with Charlie being the only one left in the room with you.

Owen had headed back to their set to finish a scene while giving the updates on you while Jared and Jensen grabbed food. J2 had been very clear they would get Martha to grab some clothing for when they came back. Jensen was determined to deliver you to your home as the first action to make it up to you.

“For what?” Charlie questioned as your index and thumb picked at the cuticles of the opposite hand. Your eyes were hidden from your boyfriend’s gaze.

“For dropping everything to be here.” The words were quiet in the room only filled with breathing and the heart machine you had to be hooked up to.

“My girl-“

“Don’t you mean wife?” You teased brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead taking in the man you had the honor of loving. Of waking up next to in the apartment, you’d been renting ever since you landed the role on Supernatural; overtime Charlie’s things had just accumulated there.

“It was the only way they’d let me in.” Charlie spoke sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, “It’s a little early to call you, but I’m excited to make you my last girlfriend and then my only wife.”

The chuckle fell from your lips, “So, you want to marry me?”

“In front of all our family and friends. Tucked away from the media to celebrate the love we have for each other.” Charlie spoke, “There’s no one else I’d like by my side for the rest of my life.”

A new flood of tears welled at the sincerity in his voice and the warmth laden in his eyes of kaleidoscope colours. Sometimes, depending on his emotion or his clothing, his eyes would be greener, or when he was happy, they had a blue tinge in the green in sadness or your favourite; brown with the swirls of green.

“How did I get so lucky to have the absolute honour to fall in love with you?” Your words created a swell of emotion in the Canadian’s heart.

“The same way whatever deities there are took pity on a boy from Dieppe by bringing him an angel.” Charlie words preceded the kiss on your lips with a grin as you chased his lips after. With one last peck, he leaned back with a fond expression.

“Seriously how do you get stabbed accidently?” Charlie chortled with that gorgeous smile lighting up the room more than the white lights.

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[twstoric]

no one to catch

𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒚𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅: Can I ask for an angsty headcanon wherein the s/o of Jamil, Leona, and Vil are denied their confession of love since they do not love them back ? This is hurting me so much but I GOTTA KNOWSKSKS TwT

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: jamil viper x gn!reader, leona kingscholar x gn!reader, vil schoenheit x gn!reader

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: he can’t allow himself to catch you—not when he’s the one who let you fall

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘(𝕤): none!

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: [Headcanon]

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: alkjdaksdh i see you’ve asked for my specialty 

Jamil Viper

Jamil sees you everyday since he’s met you and it was almost inevitable that the two of you would grow close. He sees you in the halls, in the courtyard, in the cafeteria—everywhere and almost like it’s an extension of your being, you always greet him with a smile. He appreciates your existence; a fresh breath of air in his suffocating routine. You take care of yourself well and extends that caring hand to him; he sees you as a precious person to him

Despite that, despite seeing the signs—the warnings in the way your face flushes lightly when you’re next to him or how your eyes look at him differently than with anyone else, despite knowing that he should have at least stopped you from falling deeper, he doesn’t

Jamil can’t say his feelings for you are real. He enjoys your company, your presence, your personality but he doesn’t feel for you the same way you do him. It’s unbearable to see the crestfallen look on your face, the way your lips tremble to keep that smile when you realise his silence as an answer to your confession and Jamil’s heart aches. It feels as if he should say yes—that’s the logical reply, isn’t it? But he can’t lie to himself. Jamil is many things and more. He does everything in accordance so he won’t trouble himself and saying that small word of acceptance, just uttering the single word, he can’t bring himself to lie to you

He can’t comfort you—he doesn’t have the right to and you avoid eye contact; facing the ground and Jamil still can’t say anything. The look on your face turns uncomfortable and you shift your legs; wanting nothing else than to leave. Jamil doesn’t stop you when you finally do

The building trust you’ve so carefully crafted with him crumbles; no longer standing tall and Jamil makes no move to reach out to you after the rejection. He thinks you might need time for yourself but he can give you all the time in the world and you still won’t look at him properly. The breath of fresh air Jamil held onto turns suffocating, until neither of you can breathe around the other

Leona Kingscholar

Leona doesn’t tolerate just anyone being near him. He enjoys solitary; no annoying herbivores in sight, so becoming close to him—being able to just sit next to him when he’s sleeping—you feel a sense of pride and happiness. It means he considers you close doesn’t he?

It’s like taming a wild beast. In a sense, he is one but Leona had allowed you to come closer; see the parts he hides from everyone else and you’ve grown fond of him. Leona doesn’t trust easily; always cautious, always avoiding, but he’s willing to put in a little trust just to keep you close

Perhaps that’s where his mistake came from. Leona’s face turns into a soft scowl—it’s not directed at you but it feels like it is. Like you’ve put him in a difficult spot in spite of your mere existence being a source of comfort to him. The air around you loses its warmth

Leona sighs loudly, irked but mostly at himself. What should he tell you? You, who always listens, always patient, who he knows will listen to his reasons. But Leona doesn’t talk about his feelings—anything but. He’s never had trouble coming up with the perfect words—the perfect solution to get out of trouble but this time, words fail him and he has to take the brunt force of your nervous expression. A familiar look, really. It tells him you want to run away from him

You apologise weakly and Leona finally tells you he doesn’t feel the same. You apologise again. With an awkward shuffle, you bow your head and hastily walk away. Leona doesn’t call out to you, head already pounding at the difficult situation he’s in. He doesn’t look for you the next day or the day after that; resolved that like everything else in his life, he’s lost your comfort as well

Vil Schoenheit

Vil creates and reserves beauty. He takes great care in his surroundings and himself be it by outer appearance or inner resolve. He sees beauty as potential; something that can blossom if he’s careful enough. Like delicate seeds budding with enough care. If his methods are correct, everything will bloom. Vil sees you as another budding flower. Just waiting to bloom

The attention and care he gives you is more than enough to make your heart flutter. For such a busy person on a day to day basis, he spares some time to just hang out and destress with you—of course you would enjoy each others company

Vil can clearly see your adoration for him; he’s had such looks directed at him from all angles, after all. Though he never suspected that your adoring look would grow into a deeper feeling. Vil isn’t used to messing up his lines. He has everything under perfect control but now, as you look at him nervously, his mind blanks

It feels almost too cruel to… deny your feelings. But Vil can never lie to himself. He’s gentle as he thanks you for your feelings and the tone of his voice is soft when he rejects you

He doesn’t say anything else when you ramble on about how you just wanted to tell him and it’s fine, it’s fine, I’m sorry—you look like you’ll pass out from talking too fast. He shushes you, telling you to stop apologising and panic runs through his veins when you flinch at his harsh tone. Was that a bad move? A small sigh leaves Vil’s mouth but he doesn’t sound angry- more as though he’s tired. You part ways faster than usual that day and Vil can’t help but think that he messed up his method this time; the flower that is you seems to wither the next time he sees you

[2-cute-4-school]

NCT Dream reaction : you give them a handmade gift

M.list

Genre : fluff fluff fluff

Word count : 2.5K words

Mark Lee

*sigh* my overworked baby, SM pls let him rest

he probably forgets to eat from time to time or just doesn’t time to

which breaks your poor little heart :<

so when Mark stays in the recording room until late in the night once again, you don’t go to him empty handed

you go to him with a handful of homemade cookies!!! ヽ(^◇^*)/

when you enter the studio, Mark’s slumped figure immediately straightens up, tired eyes lighting up at the sight of you

he turns in his chair and stretched out his arms to you with a puppy face and your heart :((( just :((((( melts :(((((((((( wow mark no need to kill us all with your babie culture

but who are you to say no to this angel with somewhat less appropriate thoughts but you didn’t hear this from me so you don’t hesitate to walk into his open arms

he lays his head on your stomach, nuzzling into you and cuddling up to you like a clingy koala bear as you run your fingers comfortingly through his hair, lightly massaging his head 

with the serene atmosphere you almost forgot why you came so you pulled away from Mark, your heart clenching at his whine and bring the bag with the cookies out of your backpack and thrust it in his hands

he looks from you to the bag and back with eyes so wide and innocent your brain almost short circuited at the utter cuteness

he digs into it once you prompt him to, a soft ‘woah’ coming out from him once he was hit with the sight of freshly baked cookies

“daaamn these are so good, babe” your eyes shine with pride

as he sticks one in his mouth, munching delighted at it (◠‿◠✿) , he grabs you with an arm, sitting you on his lap like a baby that you are and prodding your lips with another cookie he grabbed out of the bag

“oh no, I made these for you, I don’t-”

he doesn’t let you finish your sentence as he pushes the cookie in your mouth, watching you fondly as you start munching on it and patting your head with a gentle hand

“you’re so much cuter when you’re not nagging”

*GASP*

the Disrespect

Huang Renjun

this baby probably also showers you in his own gifts such as paintings or drawing of you sooo

it’s only proper that you also gist him something made by you (°∀°)

you work your cute ass off to perfect the most adorable Moomin key-chain you can come up with *huff* 

the day you finally deem it good enough to be shown to the top artist Huang Renjun you sweat buckets as you approach him

Renjun is busy on his iPad as you paddle over to him and stick the key-chain in his face with a dumb but proud smile “here”

Renjun turns to you with a blank face “what is this?”

●‿●

when I tell you the blood drained from your face and you died 50 times internally, your soul just left your body and you saw your life flash before your eyes ‘well life was good, time to say goodbye eyy’

you manage a loud and definitely not artificial laugh

“HAHAHA JUST AN UGLY THING I made I MEAN FOUND HAha ʰᵃ!!! Hey doesn’t it look like you in the morning?!” 

that’s when you knew you gotta bolt the scene

but Renjun of course couldn’t let your embarrassment end there the grumpy little gremlin

he snatched the keychain from you and curled his other hand around you, gluing you to his side and you froze as you looked into his sparkly wide eyes ( Renjun’s eyes are galaxies fite me )

“you made this for me?”

“uh yeah” 

warning : you were strangled to death by Renjun who deemed that a simple ‘thank you’ just couldn’t suffice, you had to die asphyxiated by his bear hug

“thank u thank u thank it’s so cute, I love it so much! I love you so much!!!”

“do you love me more than Moomin?”

warning 2 : he threw you away faster than he captured you in his deathly cute hug

“know your place, no. 2″

(¤﹏¤)

Lee Jeno

so Jeno is just a biiiiit upset at you maybe

okay maybe a bit more than just a bit

because you might or might have not broken his favorite cup which, mind you, was also a gift from you, when you were at the dorms

so now this overgrown baby gives you THE stinky eye and makes sarcastic and grumpy remarks with any chance he gets

and honesty as much as you love him, you’re ABSOLUTELY DONE with his pettiness :’)

that’s how you find yourself seated at your desk with a blank cup, acrylic watercolors and brushes spread everywhere as you squeeze every ounce of willpower to finish what you started

so after 2 mental breakdown, painted fingers and a veryyy dirty desk, you finished painting a cute design on Jeno’s new cup

you let it dry and didn’t waste another second to bring it to Jeno who still sulked at the dorms

once you were let inside, you trudged over to Jeno who was sat at the couch, refusing to get up and greet you with kisses as he usually did and slammed the cup on the coffee table in front of him

his frown turned into a confused puppy face so fast his duality amazed you once again, he lifted the cup gently, running the tips of his fingers gently over the paintings you worked so hard to complete for him

“are you still mad, nono?”

his silence was quite unnerving as you started to tire yourself out, your voice weakened by worry, but he lifted his head, looking at you with eyes so soft your heart fluttered wildly in your chest

“mad? you-you did this for me and you think I’m mad?”

he put the cup down much gentler than you and stood up from his seat, engulfing you in his arms, one of his hands squeezing you impossibly close to him and the other one cradling your head to his chest

“I think I just fell in love with you once again”

“if you fall in love just from a painted cup I should be more careful when I leave you alone”

he chuckled at your witty remark, kissing the side of his neck

once you broke apart, he placed his new favorite cup on the highest shelf and turned to you with a shit-eating grin

“i’ll put this here so maybe you won’t break this one too”

“sleep with an eye open tonight, lee” (☉‿☉✿)

Lee Donghyuck

so another overworked baby of mine bless his soul

his schedule is so packed so even though he’d cuddle with you until the end of times you actually didn’t get to do that as often as you’d like

and we all know how whiny lil cutie baby Haechanie can get when he doesn’t get what he wants :’))))

and since unfortunately you can’t be beside him all of the time like he wants you to, you decide the next best thing : you knit him a scarf !! you even stuck a tag made out of a soft material with a drawing of a smiley sun to one end of the scarf

he looks so shocked when you skip into his room and lovingly strangle him with the scarf

and you swear you could see his eyes glisten when you tell him you made it yourself and he remembers the bandaids that seemed to grow in number every day which you always shrugged of when he asked

although the tears may be from the lack of air  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

n e way, he looks so thankful as he wordlessly cradles your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and taking the time to litter kisses over every single one of your small injuries, whispering a soft ‘i love you’ at the end

you swear your heart runs leaps through your rib cage

he just loves you so so much and would appreciate anything you give him 

you bring his face back up and press a huge *smooch* on his lips and you both giggle in between your kisses

why so cute you lovebirds?!?

he brings the scarf everywhere he goes, to the dorms, to every show, concert, whenever he travels somewhere, no matter the season

it becomes his lucky charm

once, Renjun sends you a picture of your Hyuckie sleeping cuddled up to the scarf, his nose nuzzled into it

“you know I won’t let him forget about this. EVER” you smirk at Renjun’s text, typing back a reply

“pls do” ( ಠ◡ಠ )

Na Jaemin

this sweet boi hold close to his heart anything you give him

so there’s literally no reason to stress over the bracelet you decided to craft for him

but you being you of course you want to rip your hair out every time something doesn’t go your way ah the levels of patience are definitely soaring through the roof

you even swallowed your pride and asked Jeno for help (read as used him as a puppet) so you were sure you’d get the right size

so after doubting the colors, patterns, material, your entire life choices, you asked Jaemin to close his eyes the next time you met up

with extra shaky fingers, you wrapped the bracelet around his wrist and fumbled to tie it properly

“I’m not getting any younger over here, y/n”

“shut up, mommy jaemie”

he managed to slap the back of your head even with his eyes closed (>‘o’)>

so when you finally tied a sturdy knot with your chicken fingers, you let him open his eyes and beach let me tell you the way his entire face broke into a smile at the sight of the pretty bracelet around your wrist

the sun seemed to pale in comparison with his precious smile, jaemin lights up the world no question, there’s no way you can convince me otherwise

“oh my God, my baby spent time making me such a pretty gift, I must have saved a country in my previous life, come here, let me smooch you into next week (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ “

so that’s how you ended up trapped in Jaemin’s embrace FOREVER

he kept on complimenting you the entire day and made it his mission to boast to every member he could get is hands on about his pretty gift made by his even prettier baby, he’s such a sucker for you no joke whipped culture right here m’am

“Jaemin, the the threads are getting dirty, don’t you think it’s time to take it off-?”

“I’ll die wearing this ʘ‿ʘ“

Zhong Chenle

among all of his ultra expensive things he has, he is dead sure that you’re the most precious in his life

he often told you he’d give up every penny in his bank and all his fame as long as he got to keep you by his side

he regarded you as a ray of warm light when the world left him cold and he swore he’d fight off anything and anyone who dared to hurt you

so this is how he found himself a bit confused and extremely guilty over how he is supposed to fight himself, watch and learn baby

he never meant to upset you, especially over something you poured your blood, sweat and tears into perfecting it just for him

sure, you were aware the Chinese patters you sewed carefully into a pristine white material weren’t perfect, but the way he laughed in you face once you offered it to him toppled your negative emotions over

he wasn’t aware that you sewed it yourself when he made fun of it

“jeez, where did you get this from, Y/N, the clownery fair? even though you should report them for to costumer protection for its ugliness”

“maybe I should report you for being a bitchy prick” ʕ ಡ ﹏ ಡ ʔ

you glare at him and storm away, slamming the door

chenle, the most oblivious and babiest boyfriend : (Θ︹Θ)ს well shit

but of course you couldn’t stay mad at him for long when he sweet talked his way back into your good side basically every minute of the day after finding out from Renjun (this angry angel helped you bless his soul) how hard you worked to sew that

so even though you’re still sulking a lil bit

you accept to come over at his house and as soon as you enter his room you’re shook

where one of his posters once hung above his bed now stood your sewing project proudly

you stared in awe like （’◎’）

“but I though you said it’s ugly”

“that’s before I knew it’s made by you. Anything you did is directly promoted to gorgeous, admirable, incomparable-”

ヾ(＠⌒▽⌒＠)ﾉ

3 weeks later while cuddling 

you : *GASP* “I’m so sorry for calling you a bitchy prick, baby”

Park Jisung

he is a giant as much as he is a baby and you agree with me even if you don’t 

babies are fascinated by almost anything, especially colorful things

which means Jisung is also fascinated by colorful things ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ

so when you met and you pulled out a few origami figures of different, lively colors, Jisung : (✪㉨✪)

“woah, how did you do these?”

“they’re like basic origami figurines”

if he wasn’t amazed enough already

when you picked up a purple frog and pressed on its bottom and it jumped, Jisung jumped up with it

“WOAH, how did you do THAT?”

you didn’t have the heart to break his innocent awe and tell him it didn’t take longer than 5 minutes to make that frog

so you just settled for a shrug and a simple

“magic, Jisung, magic”

at that, he straightens up in his seat, his awestruck expression fading into a serious one as he grips your shoulders tightly （´＿｀）

“you’ve been lying to me, haven’t you?” ~(｡☉︵ ಠ@)>

“what do you mean, sungie?”

“you’re a wizard!!!!!!!!!”

*facepalm* *internal sigh* *whale noises because cuteness levels are just too high* 

“uh, yeah sure, baby, whatever floats your boat”

you try to turn away to hide your growing smile, but jisung isn’t having it

“no, you can’t leave me like this!! teach me!!!1!”

he grips your sleeve and looks at you with such wide innocent eyes as if you’re another wonder of the world and you swear you melt on the spot

“well, you know, my services aren’t free” (¬‿¬)

“what do you want?”

“kisses?” ( jisung shutting down )

“k-kisses? kisses??!? i mean *clears throat and buffs up* yeah sure, that’s all? i can do kisses” ( this baby blushed after only mentioning it but okay boss baby go off I guess ) (*~▽~)

he could’t even be disappointed when he found out origami was nowhere near to magic when you spoiled him with kithes all evening *cue a red Jisungie*

[vacationguidesblog]

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[bastardtetsu]

{day 09} vanilla ice cream | tsukki x reader

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, secret pen pal, mutual pining a lil bit?

wc: 1.5k

warnings: sick reader (hangover/cold), mention of drinking, some swearing, tsukki showing human empathy

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

somehow it all reminds me of doctor jekyll and mister hyde for right before my eyes, a man that i despise has turned into a man i like

—vanilla ice cream; she loves me (music by jerry bock, lyrics by sheldon harnick)

the first thing you notice as you wake up is your pounding headache. it’s hard to be surprised at your state after the amount of alcohol you consumed last night - not without good reason, of course. as awful as you’re feeling now, it’s nothing compared to the hell that was last night.

it wasn’t supposed to go like that - it was supposed to be a magical, maybe even romantic evening. you had been looking forward to meeting your mystery friend ever since the two of you started messaging each other online, but you hadn’t expected to develop a full-blown crush on this person without even finding out what they look like.

but the more you got to know their personality, exchanging playlists and talking about your similar tastes in music, the more your messages to each other became fonder, even flirty at times. perhaps it was the level of anonymity that made you both so comfortable talking to each other, but you quickly became each other’s most trusted confidants.

when you started working at the record store, things became a little more stressful as you adjusted to your schedule becoming tighter, having to handle the occasional nasty customer, and dealing with one coworker in particular who must have being rude to you written into his DNA. talking with your anonymous friend is a much-needed escape, a distraction from the mundane, a hidden treasure that only you get to enjoy.

so as you sat waiting in the cafe last night, a rose laid out on the table as you had promised your dear friend, nothing could’ve killed your vibe faster than the aforementioned rude coworker - tsukishima kei - showing up and ruining everything.

you could tell he was only there because you’d insisted on leaving work early to make this date, and he wanted to see if you were lying. he only proved his intentions more when he had the audacity to sit down at your table and make jabs at you for meeting up with someone you met online.

“you’ve been waiting an awful long time haven’t you?” he taunted.

“tsukki, if you don’t leave this table—“

“and you’ve never even met them? this is how people get murdered, you know,” he sneered condescendingly. you almost got thrown out because of how loudly you screamed at him. thankfully you didn’t - although you did seem to strike some nerves with tsukishima, which you felt a bit bad about - but even though you waited at the cafe until closing, nobody showed up, leaving you alone with a single rose and a full bottle of wine.

needless to say, you have every reason to feel like shit this morning. not only are you hungover and heartbroken, having heard nothing but radio silence from your friend, you’re starting to feel lightheaded and stuffy-nosed too. you waste no time calling in sick, burying yourself in your blankets as you try your best to shut out the pounding in your head and the salty tears beginning to sting the backs of your eyelids.

suddenly, a knock at the door jolts you back to reality. “who is it?” you call out weakly.

another knock. you drag yourself out of bed with a quiet groan and go to answer the door, only to be met with a familiar lanky blond.

“what do you want, tsukishima,” you demand dryly, “did you have something you forgot to say last night? if you do say it fast, i don’t feel well today.”

“yeah i know, you called out of work,” he replies ambivalently, “that’s why i’m here.”

“oh, so you’re here to check up on me again, make sure i’m not slacking off?” you taunt him, your temper rising.

“that’s not—“

“you gonna go back to work and tell everyone i’m lying? that i just don’t care about my job?”

“no i’m n—“

“well joke’s on you, four-eyes, ‘cause guess what? i’m not giving you the chance.” you immediately start gathering your belongings, preparing to go to work.

“what?”

“i won’t be that late,” you mumble to yourself, throwing a coat over your arm as you hurriedly grab your keys, “fuck— where the hell is my other shoe??”

“oi,” tsukishima says firmly, “y/n. you need to lie down.”

“fuck off,” you bite back at him.

“no seriously, you look like you have a fever.”

“i don’t care,” you snarl, “help me look for my shoe, i know it’s here somewhere—HEY!!!”

there’s not much you can do but continue screaming at him as tsukishima scoops you up in his scrawny arms - which are evidently way stronger than they look - and carries you to your bed, dumping you unceremoniously on top of the blankets.

“THE FUCK WAS THAT?!?” you shout. he just shrugs.

“what was i supposed to do? you wouldn’t get back in bed.” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. arrogant prick. you slump down into your blankets, feeling too depleted to pick a fight anymore.

“i brought you something.”

your head shoots up as a plastic grocery bag lands next to it. opening it up, you find a tub of vanilla ice cream inside. “it’s the best thing to eat when you’re sick,” he states.

“a-ah,” you stutter hesitantly, “thanks.” is tsukishima being… nice to you?

“did that uh… friend of yours ever show up?” he asks cautiously.

“no,” you mutter bitterly, “i waited til closing. guess you were right, meeting some stranger from the internet really was a stupid idea.”

“hm,” he grunts awkwardly, looking away from you.

“i mean,” you continue, “the least they could’ve done was give me some sort of explanation. instead they just fucking ghosted—“

“they didn’t ghost,” tsukishima interjects suddenly, almost defensive. “i mean— it hasn’t even been a day, they’ll probably hit you up later.”

“and how do you know?”

“because—“ he stops short, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “i saw the guy last night. on the way out of the cafe.”

“wait—what??” you exclaim, “you saw them? how do you know??”

“they were supposed to be holding a rose, right? like the one you had?”

“yeah— wait, how do you know about that?”

“it wasn’t hard to figure out. people usually don’t sit at cafes with loose flowers on the table unless it’s something dumb like that.”

“shut up, you wouldn’t know romance if it bit you in the ass,” you snap back, “so he’s a guy? what did he look like? did you talk to him? what did he say?”

“yeah, uh— he asked if i knew you,” tsukishima recounts, “and he wanted me to tell you he’s sorry for bailing, but something else came up.”

“anything else??” the eager glow in your eyes is suffocating as you stare him down, hungry for more details.

“yeah. he— he was kinda ugly.”

“…seriously?” you respond, half unimpressed with his attempt at a joke and half nervous that he isn’t joking at all.

“what, does that matter?” tsukishima replies mockingly, “i thought you liked him for his personality.”

“i do,” you jab, “and you know what, i don’t care what he looks like. and i certainly don’t care about what your salty ass thinks of him. i’m gonna message him right now, actually”

“have fun,” he says dismissively, turning to make his way out before pausing to pull a record from the vinyl collection on your shelf. “you like this album?”

“yeah, duh. it’s been one of my favorites for years.”

“huh. me too,” he replies, “it’s crazy how it stays with me. sometimes i swear i can hear it in my head while i’m asleep.”

“that’s funny,” you say, “my friend does the same thing. he hears it in his sleep.”

“heh. that is funny,” he mutters quietly as he turns to leave.

“tsukki—“ you stop him before he exits, “thanks for today. you’re not as awful as i thought.” a tentative smile graces your lips.

“whatever,” he mutters, quickly turning his face away from yours, “see you at work tomorrow.” as he retreats out the door, he prays you didn’t notice his blushing cheeks.

once tsukishima is out the door, you waste no time crafting a new message to your friend - but you find yourself struggling to piece together sentences as you snack on the ice cream tsukki brought you, the cold sensation easing your aching throat. was that really the same guy who’s been an asshole to you since the day you started working with him?

it’s incredible that the two of you even spent 2 minutes together without being at each other’s throats like usual, and even more so that someone as harsh and bitter as tsukishima would do something as kind as show up at your door with ice cream when you’re sick. he even said something to make you feel better - and it worked.

realizing that you’ve zoned out, you quickly snap your attention back to your message. but as you continue typing, you find your thoughts continually drifting back to the tall, bespectacled blond and his uncharacteristic kindness.

by the time you manage to write what you have to say and hit send, tsukishima is safely out of earshot when the new message pings on his phone.

he smiles and hopes that you figure it out soon, too.

a/n: i hope the ending for this one is clear addsdsdf,,,, i watched the entire roundabout she loves me revival to get inspired for this (and by get inspired i mean remember the plot details of she loves me bc i had only seen it once before lmao) tbh the narrative of this fic actually covers like 3 different songs, bc old musicals are weird and thought it was necessary to make looking for a shoe an entire number. anyways, all I have to offer you today is laura benanti being utter perfection and all of my love <3

taglist: @izagraceee​ @musicgetsmeoutofbed​ @azo-musxas​ @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp

[kimvvantae]

everlasting • jjk

➜ being able to love the same person forever is a blessing given from the heavens. to you, however, eternity has become a curse. 

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

genre: angst • reincarnation au

warnings: a slight, non-explicit insinuation of sex. subtle mentions of violence. probably historical inaccuracy. also, suffering. lots of suffering, actually.

word count: 18k

rating: pg-13

anon requested: a jungguk fic where him and the reader never work out in any life time like they’ll be “maybe we’ll be together in the next life time” yk I don’t know if I’m making sense 🥺 but then in the last one they end up being together.

➜  this is part of the 1st anniversary event. check out masterlist in bio for more of my works!

× 1401 ×

"You look absolutely lovely!" your mother chirps happily, clapping her hands together. "The most beautiful bride I've ever seen!"

All of the maids agree, making comments on the dress you wear. Some of them are kneeled down around you, making adjustments on the dress and veil. You look at your reflection, holding the delicate fabric with care. You can't disagree with them; indeed, the dress is beautiful. 

"Put a smile on this face, darling." Your mother continues, coming closer to where you stand. She caresses your cheek affectionately. "It is your wedding day!" 

You look at your mother. She smiles widely. If someone that doesn't know her looked at this situation, they'd think she's a caring mother.

But you do know her.

You know the expertly crafted smile that adorns her lips.

You know that there is no happiness at all reflected on her eyes - only the coldness and superiority you're already used to.

You see that what she said was actually a warning. At least pretend to be happy. Don't you disrespect your fiance.

That's all she cares about: appearances. Reputation. Wealth and power. Even though this is the woman that brought you to life, you can't help but wonder if she has ever cared for you at least once.

You say nothing and look back at your reflection.

"May you all leave me alone?" You ask in a low and dead tone. It doesn't even sound like you.

The maids promptly move out of the room without muttering a word, bowing respectfully before leaving. Your mother, however, doesn't move.

"I said may you all leave me alone?" You repeat, your voice louder and harder. Now that you're alone with her, the façade fades and she finally shows her true self: dead eyes, an expression that somehow always conveys aggressiveness. She opens her mouth to say something that will probably hurt your feelings, but you don't let her even start the sentence. You had enough of her. "You already got what you wanted, mother. At least leave me by myself in my last moments of freedom."

The woman glares at you for a moment, then nods. You see the faint shadow of a smirk on her lips. She's enjoying this. She likes to see that you finally bent to her will after all these years - and she doesn't care that this is killing you inside. "Very well." she says, at least once keeping any snarky comment to herself. After giving one last look at you - and in this quick moment you notice that no, she actually does not think you're the most beautiful bride she has ever seen - and finally leaves the room.

You stand in front of the mirror, all alone.

If you could, you would have cried. But you don't have enough strength to cry anymore. The tears seem to have dried out; you feel empty and cold on the inside. The beautiful (and uncomfortable) attire you wear now does not match your blank expression. 

In a few minutes, you'll be attending your own wedding… but deep down, it feels like a funeral.

You feel powerless. You see how gullible you were. Why did you even think you could avoid your fate anyway? There has never been an option to you; there has never been how to escape. You were foolish. You dreamed too high. You should have figured that dreams never take anyone anywhere. 

You asked your mother to enjoy your last moments of freedom by yourself, but… you were never really free. The shackles of destiny have chained you ever since you were born. 

There is no escape.

"You look beautiful, Highness." 

You freeze. The sad, quiet voice floats to your ears, the voice that belongs to the person you love the most-

"Jungkook," you whisper.

You see his reflection in the mirror. He stands by the door, perfect posture as always, hands behind his back. His blank expression might be mistaken by apathy, but you know these dark eyes far too well. You've seen them from up close multiple times, you've stared at them for seemingly endless hours - eyes that used to look back at you with nothing but gentleness and affection, now hold a type of sadness and grief you have never seen before.

"Your father asked me to accompany you," he continues on his usual formal tone. He's visibly trying so hard not to break…

You turn around and face him. The tears that seemed to have dried out come back, welling up your eyes. "I'm sorry." It's all you can say in a weak, small voice. You feel sorry in a way that hurts your chest as if you've been stabbed right in the heart. The sadness in his eyes… this is enough to make you want to die. "I-I tried everything…"

"There's nothing to apologize for, Y/N." Jungkook says with a soft voice - the tone he'd use whenever you were finally alone and away from any suspicious ears, when you could love each other in the silence of the night, your secret being kept by the stars above. The smallest of smiles adorns his lips, but there's no happiness reflected in it. "We knew this would happen someday. We were never meant to be."

His words almost feels like physical pain. You step closer and put your hands over his chest, desperate. "But I love you!" You whisper, your voice breaking as tears start to fall. 

Jungkook lifts his hand and touches your cheek gently, wiping your tears with his thumb. You mean it with the bottom of your heart. You love Jungkook. You love him with every fiber of your being. You silently curse the Universe for making you walk this path, for making you be born a princess and making Jungkook be a knight. No one would never let you be together the way you want to. No one around you even believes in love.

"I love you too," he whispers back. "And I always will." 

A small smile once again appears on his lips. The smile he usually shows when he wants to comfort you. 

This time, though, nothing in the world will be able to comfort your bleeding heart.

"Maybe… maybe we'll meet in our next life. A life when we'll be in different circumstances." Even though Jungkook himself says these words, you see that it's just a sad hope - because right now, there's no way out. All that exists is pain and a dark future ahead of you, married with a prince you have never seen, a man you don't love and never will.

Still, you and Jungkook hold onto this hope - this last shared dream - tightly.

"Maybe we'll be together in our next life." He says as a single tear trickles down his cheek.

× 1642 ×

Life in the convent is good.

Ever since you decided to willingly dedicate your life to God, you see nothing but light and happiness. All of the nuns became your family. Every day, you pray for the Lord, plead that He will forgive your sins, read the Holy Scriptures. You feed the animals, take care of the plantation. You help your sisters on the kitchen; later on, you'd usually distribute food for the poor and unfortunate. 

The routine is repetitive, but familiar and enjoyable. You love your sisters. You love to help people. You love to serve the Lord. This is the life He chose for you.

You are blessed.

But…

Recently, there is a feeling that has been distracting you from your life of serving.

Not a feeling… a person.

You have prayed for endless nights, pleading for God to forgive you, pleading for Virgin Mary's help and guidance. You should eradicate this feeling. You must have no distractions on your life of serving and humility; you must not betray the trust that the Lord has on you…

But every time you hear his suave voice, every time you see him entering the convent, your heart still beats fast. 

Usually, men are not allowed inside the convent. But he is not just any man. The young priest started to come two years ago to lead the mass, and ever since, you started developing this wrong feeling. You started to look at him far too much. You saw his kindness, you admired his wisdom. Soon, you realized that you were hoping for his arrivals. You and him barely even talked, but when you did, it always felt as if you were swept off your feet.

This is wrong.

You swore to live a life of abnegation. You shouldn't crave for anyone's company except God's. But every night, before you closed your eyes, his face came to your mind. You felt happy at any opportunity to talk to him; sometimes, you'd watch him from afar as he talked to the mother superior, your heart fluttering every time he'd smile.

This is unforgivable.

But you can't help it.

That's why one day in the early morning, so early that almost all of the sisters are still asleep, you walk alone to the chapel.

You know he is here; that's why your heart starts beating faster. Quietly, you enter the small booth and kneel down, put your hands together and lower your head respectfully.

"Bless me, priest, for I have sinned." you start timidly.

You hear him saying a prayer, what makes a shiver run down your spine. You can't see him, and he can't see you - and you're grateful for it. You wouldn't be able to look at him for too long.

After he finishes, it's your time to confess. It's hard to do so. You intertwine your own fingers and gulp.

"I… I am behaving inappropriately, priest." Your voice is fragile. Hesitant.

"What makes you think this, sister?" He asks.

You gulp yet again. "I… I developed feelings for someone. I know it's wrong. I have been asking for God's help, I have been trying to forget it… but this feeling won't go away."

The priest stays silent for a moment. Does he know you're talking about him? No, that's impossible…

"You've taken the first step, sister." He says in a reassuring way. "You have been doing your best to avoid these feelings. God for sure will listen to you and help you. He knows you're trying."

You nod, even though you know he can't see it. You should stop it right here. You should thank him and leave.

But you can't.

That's why you keep talking.

"But, priest… deep down, I don't think that my feelings are impure. I… I don't have any carnal feelings for him. I admire him and I crave for his company. I just wish to talk to him and… and to hear him. I just want to be with him."

The priest falls in deep silence.

He's the only man you ever keep in touch with. He knows that you're talking about him.

When you hear him calling your name softly, your eyes widen.

"I understand how you feel." He whispers, and suddenly, it feels as if he is confessing, not you. Your heart beats so fast that you're scared it may stop; your palms start sweating. What does he mean…? "I really do. But… both of us chose this life. We can't go back on our word."

You almost gasp. The priest not only understands - he feels the same. You can't even control your own emotions right now; you feel euphoria, confusion, excitement, and-

And sadness.

Because you know that you shouldn't be feeling what you feel. This is forbidden for you - and the priest is right. You chose it. You decided to live this life.

You can't go back on your word.

"I understand." You say quietly, unable to hide the sadness and guilt in your voice.

He doesn't say anything for a long moment. You can't help but feel the tears trickling down your cheeks. This hurts. It hurts more than you ever thought it would.

"Maybe…" the priest whispers, so quiet that you can barely hear. "Maybe if we had another life… this would be possible."

You nod sadly.

Maybe in another life… 

In a life that you wouldn't be you and him wouldn't be him.

× 1803 ×

"He's looking at you," your younger sister says, giggling.

Your eyes widen and you immediately pass your hand through your hair discreetly, trying to look less like a scarecrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, he is. He has been staring for quite a long time." She confirms, still smirking in a knowing way.

You gulp and try to focus on your current task again - which is wash the clothes, kneeled next to the flowing river. Your own clothes are barely dirty rags, your hair is probably a mess. You look nothing like a respectable lady.

What is he doing here anyway?

You shake your head. "I don't care," you lie to yourself, scrubbing the white sheet against a rock with more strength than you should. "He is an odd man. An odd man that does odd things."

"You like him."

"I don't!" You gasp when you realize that, perhaps, you said this way too loud. "I don't." You repeat with a controlled voice this time. "He is our boss. We shouldn't even think anything like this about him."

"Why not? He's handsome!" She exclaims. "He's the most handsome man in the entire town! Besides, he stares at you way too much."

"Stop it." You warn your annoying younger sister. "You know very well that people like him and people like us don't get involved."

People like Jeon Jungkook are rich. They can afford the most expensive types of fabric, the most gracious and strong horses, the most exotic types of tea. The Jeon family owns the small town you live in. His father is part of the government - which means he is the law itself. Everybody respects the Jeons… well, everybody fear the Jeons. 

Meanwhile, people like you work for people like him. You and your family live in a small house inside the Jeon's enormous farm; you, your siblings and your mother work as maids and cooks, while your father and your brothers take care of the animals. All of your clothes are reused and you have never tasted anything other than cheap tea. You don't ride any pure race horse because Master Jeon doesn't like the idea of his unworthy servants touching any of his awarded animals.

Yes, people like you and him definitely don't get involved.

That's why you are mad at yourself. You shouldn't feel nervous whenever Jungkook is around. Sure, he is handsome… maybe way too handsome for his own good. But he is nothing but a petty rich boy. He's exactly the type of man you should avoid.

"You're getting quite old, aren't you, sister?" The annoying girl continues, side eyeing you maliciously. "You should be searching for a husband already. Otherwise, soon no man will want you."

You don't say anything for a few seconds, still scrubbing that sheet as if the poor piece of fabric had cursed you. Your sister is somehow right. Most of your friends are already married - some of them are pregnant. You know you should hurry and start a family. It's not as if you want to be single forever.

But… you also don't want to marry any man. As foolish as it sounds, you're still waiting for someone to love.

Your mother says that you dream too much. You should stop reading those books and come back to reality, she said. You will not be young and beautiful forever. You should give Seokjin a chance. He is a good man, has a decent job and already showed interest in you.

Most of your friends told you the same.

But you heart does not flutter when you see Seokjin.

At least not the way it does when…

Stop.

You shake your head vehemently. "You should stop talking and start working," you say, throwing another wet sheet on the girl aggressively. She gasps and complains a "hey!"

You take the soap bar and start washing another sheet, still shaking your head as if to free yourself from these thoughts. 

But you can't help but lift your gaze for a quick moment.

Jungkook is standing there, caressing his horse's head. His eyes are not on the animal, but on you instead. He's way too far, so you can't see the details of his face, but he clearly has a small smile on his lips.

A smirk.

He didn't possibly hear your conversation with your sister, right? That's impossible. He's too far.

The young man shakes his head slightly and finally starts to guide the horse away by the reins, heading to the stables.

It takes a long time for your heart to beat at a normal pace again.

You wonder how is it possible that such a small family can dirty so many clothes.

The Jeon family isn't that big, but every week you're gifted with a ton of clothes to wash. And they're not just any clothes: Mrs. Jeon already made very clear that all of their clothes are made of the finest and richest types of fabric, and because of this, you had to be extremely careful when washing them. She also likes to point out how a single dress of hers or of her daughter is far more expensive than you'll ever be able to pay. This is enough of a warning for you to not damage them (even though sometimes you really want to). 

Washing the clothes isn't an easy task: you have to carry all of them in a basket to the river, and the process of scrubbing them against the rock is tiring and may take several hours. Many times, you're forced to sit under the scorching sun. After this, you have to carry them back, put them to dry on the sun, and then iron them to perfection - what, again, isn't an easy task; the iron is heavy and it is quite dangerous to use. The scar on your hand is a painful reminder of this. You have to repeat this process every week, just because your dear bosses can't wear the same dress twice - which doesn't even make sense. You have exactly three dresses, some skirts and some shirts. Even though your job gets you dirty all the time, you do your best to stay clean as much as possible.

If those bitches had to wash their clothes themselves, I'm sure they wouldn't wear so many.

Today, though, you're having more work than usual. None of your sisters or your mom could help you (usually, this is too tough to be done by one person); the Jeons will be holding a birthday party for their son, which means they were too busy cleaning the gigantic house to help you. You got up earlier than usual and came to the river, knowing that the sooner you'd start, the sooner you'd finish.

You completely lost sight of time, too focused on washing all the items from the basket. You have to stop from time to time to let your arms rest. You're sure that, soon, your biceps will be more muscular than your older brother's. You exhale heavily and wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand; at least, this is the last skirt.

That's when you hear a soft cough somewhere near.

You turn your head and gasp.

He is standing there. Way closer than the usual.

You immediately avoid his gaze.

"Mr. Jeon," you say. "You scared me."

"I apologize." Jungkook says, smiling. It's annoying how he always has this smile on his lips. It's annoying how he always looks handsome, it doesn't matter what he's wearing.

It's annoying how your heart starts beating faster and you feel a heat creeping on your neck.

"Did you need something, sir?" You ask, grabbing the skirt you've been scrubbing for the past few minutes. You try your hardest to pretend you're not affected by his presence. "Unfortunately, I can't help you now, but I'm sure that my mother and my sisters can."

"No, I don't need anything," he says, shaking his hands dismissively. "I'm just watching you." He tilts his head. "It seems like a tiring work."

You try your hardest not to roll your eyes. You bet, idiot. "It sure is a tiring work, sir."

"Oh, there's no need to call me 'sir'. You can call me Jungkook." His voice sounds annoyingly lighthearted.

"I can't. It would be inappropriate, sir." You reply, focusing your gaze on your hands as you pass more soap on the skirt, trying not to think about how he's annoyingly close. 

"Why?" He asks as if he doesn't already know why.

"You're my boss, sir. That's why I call you sir, sir." 

This time, you weren't able to hide the aggressiveness in your voice.

Jungkook frowns. At least he realized how his presence is unwanted… and he looks confused. As if he had never met a woman that didn't fawn over him.

Well… he probably didn't. 

You start to scrub the skirt again, completely ignoring his existence. With the corner of your eye, you can see Jungkook shifting uncomfortably. He's definitely not used to be ignored.

You have to learn one thing or two, rich boy.

After rinsing and wringing the skirt tightly, you sigh in relief. At least this is done. You put it back on the basket and get up, ready to walk back to where the clotheslines are.

"Oh, wait," you hear Jungkook exclaiming. Your heart almost stops beating when he rushes to your side. "This looks heavy. Let me help you."

"No!" You blink, realizing that perhaps you were a little too rude. "I mean- this is not necessary, sir. I can carry it by myself."

"I can't see a lady carrying so much weight and do nothing. Please, let me help."

You hate that smile. God, you hate it.

When he extends his arms, ready to grab the basket from your hands, you step away and look at him with worry and seriousness on your features.

"Sir, please. If your mother sees you helping me, she will not like it."

Jungkook stares at you with confusion.

Are you stupid?, you feel the urge to ask. Doesn't he know his own mother?

"She won't do anything, Y/N." Your eyes widen. You didn't know that Jungkook knew your name. "I can deal with her. Now, please, let me carry this. I just want to be polite."

You stare at him for a few seconds. Well, at least it seems that he really wants to help. You sigh, giving in, and nod. "Very well," you say.

He smiles again. He really has a mesmerizing smile.

When Jungkook takes the basket, he frowns and looks surprised. "This is heavier than I expected."

You asked for it!

You start walking side by side in an uncomfortable silence. You're sure that Jungkook thought you'd be happy or pleased, and he looks confused that you're clearly not. You don't want to be close to him. You don't want to see him smiling and trying to be polite. You don't want to feel your stomach twirling in excitement just because he's close or because he knows your name.

"Do you carry all this by yourself every time?" Jungkook asks at some point.

"I usually have my sisters' help. Sometimes we carry three or four baskets."

Jungkook lifts his eyebrows. Surprised? Can you tell your mother and sister to stop being dirty pigs that give us so much work, then?

Silence reigns above you again. It's painful. This farm is enormous, so it'll take some minutes of walking to arrive there. You don't think you'll be able to bear this.

"Actually," Jungkook starts all of sudden, sounding quiet and… hesitant. "I want to invite you to my birthday party tomorrow. I'd be really glad if you came."

He looks at you and smiles timidly.

This time, you can't hold back a huff.

Jungkook looks confused again.

"Are you serious?" You also forget to be polite.

"Of course I'm serious."

You smirk, but there's no hint of happiness on your smile. Your eyes look so mad that Jungkook is taken aback.

"Thank you for the invitation, sir," you say as you take the basket from his hands forcefully. "but servants are not allowed to attend parties."

You walk away at a fast pace. Jungkook at least has the decency to not follow you.

What is he thinking?!

His mother would kill you if she saw you there. You have no dress for such occasion; you'd be a joke. Imagine, you - a servant in a party where only the high society of this town would attend!

It's so ridiculous that you get mad.

You know what Jungkook wanted with this. You may be a dreamer, but you're not stupid. Men like him are used to seduce poor girls just for fun; they fool them, make them think that they love them, make them think that they're princes and that they came to give those girls a better life. But it all ends when they have enough of them or when they find a rich girl to marry. It's not as if he had any type of true interest in you. 

You're angry and sad.

People like you and people like Jungkook are not meant to be.

Two weeks have passed by when you meet him again.

As usual, you're kneeled down by the river, scrubbing a sheet against the surface of the rock. Since today there are less clothes to wash than the usual, you decided to come by yourself. As it always seems to happen, you got too immersed in your task to pay attention to your surroundings. This time, though, you have a reason to be so inattentive.

Your friends told you that Seokjin is planning to propose to you.

Seokjin is a good man. It seems that he genuinely cares about you. He's also very good-looking and polite. Any other woman would be happy to marry him.

But you don't want to marry someone just because of their looks.

At the same time, if you don't get married soon, you'll get a bad reputation.

What to do? You have no idea. Perhaps you should forget your own dreams and start listening to your mother…

"Good afternoon."

You gasp, startled, and the soap bar almost slips from your hands.

It's Jungkook again.

"Why must you always be so sneaky, sir?" You say, putting your hand over your chest.

Jungkook doesn't say anything - he just looks at you and the clothes instead, eyebrows furrowed. Were you really so inattentive or is Jungkook this silent?

He then pushes the sleeves of his shirt and kneels down by your side.

You widen your eyes as you see him taking one sheet from the basket.

"W-What are you doing?" You're frozen in place.

"I'm helping." He takes the soap bar from your hands. When his fingers touches yours, you shiver.

"Sir- there's no need-"

"I want to."

"What if someone sees you?!" 

Jungkook looks around. "There's nobody here. I doubt that someone will come."

You stare at him, jaw dropped, as Jungkook passes soap on the sheet. You notice he's trying to imitate your movements - except he's being much more aggressive.

You come back to your senses. "No. Stop!"

You put your hand over his, making him stop.

Your eyes meet.

You feel goosebumps.

"I-If you keep scrubbing like this, you'll end up ripping it off," you stutter, taking your hand off of his. "Don't put so much strength. Be more gentle."

Jungkook nods. You watch, too shocked to say anything, as he does what you said.

Silence falls over you two - but it's not an uncomfortable silence this time. You still can't tell exactly what's happening. For a while, you two just keep scrubbing clothes, the sound of the flowing river reigning.

Until you can't hold back a giggle.

"What?" He immediately asks. You shake your head, avoiding his gaze.

"I never thought I'd see a man washing clothes, sir." You admit. "It's quite interesting."

Jungkook shrugs. "I just didn't want to see you doing all this by yourself." He has to stop for a moment and take a deep breath - way sooner than you usually do. "This is more tiring than I thought it would be."

You giggle again. "Now, imagine doing this more than once per week, sir."

He frowns his eyebrows. After more scrubbing, he lifts the sheet with both hands and looks at you. Your stomach jumps in a funny way. His eyes are big and round in an innocent expression. "Is it clean now?"

"Not even close." 

Jungkook exhales and tilts his head in an adorable way. Why everything he does makes your heart flutter like this? 

"Let's work more, then." He says, taking the soap bar again.

You don't know why he is even trying.

But you can't say you're not enjoying it.

"What do you mean, you don't need help?" Your sister asks, completely confused.

You avoid her gaze and take the basket on your hands absently. "I can do this by myself today. Besides, you were a little sick, weren't you? You should rest."

"And since when do you care?"

"I always cared." You glare at her, offended. "I'm leaving now before you make me change my mind." 

Before she can say anything else, you walk out of the house carrying the heavy basket.

Of course I'm doing this because I care, you think, frowning. Of course. She had a fever. She has to rest today.

Of course I'm not doing this because I hope that Jungkook will show up again.

Of course not.

A strange heat reaches your neck.

You still don't know why the Jeon insisted on helping you. Any man would feel ashamed to do this type of work. Yet, Jungkook stayed with you until both of you finished washing all the items in the basket. 

He did not complain. He did not make any type of bad comment about you.

In fact, he didn't even try to court you. He just… talked to you.

This, itself, is already surprising.

You're used to being treated like nothing by people on his level. Rich people think that poor people aren't even people in the first place. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time a rich man tried to get under your skirt. Jungkook, however, was respectful all the time. He didn't treat you as if you were a brainless peasant. You talked about many things. Being around him didn’t feel overwhelming… it was comfortable.

You know you shouldn’t be craving for his company, but you do. After that day, every week you see yourself finding an excuse to go to the river alone, hoping that he will come - and he actually comes to help you. Jungkook learned how to wash clothes properly really fast. Every time he comes, you finish all the work pretty quickly, what disappoints you deep down, because you want more opportunities to spend time with him.

If back then you just felt attracted by Jungkook’s appearance… well, now you’re starting to feel something more.

Even though there’s a voice in your mind yelling that this won’t end up well.

You arrive at the usual spot by the river and place the basket on the floor, getting ready to  work. Unconsciously, you keep looking at your surroundings, hoping that his figure will peek in the horizon at any time. You already feel your heart beating rapidly with nervousness. He might not want to come today. He might have things to do. Why would he even want to come anyway? This is ridiculous-

“Searching for me, Y/N?” You scream, completely startled, when a voice says right by your side.

Jungkook laughs joyfully, satisfied with your reaction. You glare at him. “What’s your problem, sir?”

“It’s not my fault if you get scared so easily.” He shrugs, faking an innocent expression. He sits by your side and crosses his legs. Something you noticed recently is that Jungkook doesn’t exactly act like a gentleman - he walks around barefoot, laughs loudly, sits with crossed legs like he’s doing right now, and the stranger of all: helps a woman washing clothes. He definitely doesn’t act like all the other man you know. You always knew he was an odd man, but day after day it gets more surprising. “Did you miss me?”

“Certainly not.” you roll your eyes. “I was hoping that you wouldn’t come to bother me.”

What a liar.

“Sure.” Jungkook side eyes you suspiciously. “I can leave if you want… but then, I won’t give you the present I brought with me.”

“What?” you look at him, feeling your heart race. Did he bring you a present…?

“As I said, I’m won’t give you the present… unless you ask me to stay.” He says in a childish manner, a teasing glint in his eyes. He starts to get up as if to leave.

“Wait.” You call. Your pride screams in pain. Jungkook stops midway and waits for you to say something. You roll your eyes again (your eyes tend to roll a lot when he’s around). “Stay, please.”

He grins widely and sits down again, reaching for something in a bag behind him. “Since you told me you were tired of reading the same books, I thought you’d like this.”

Jungkook hands you a book happily.

Your breath almost gets caught on your throat.

“Sir, I… I can’t accept this,” you say, although you want to take the book.

“Why not?” He looks confused.

“B-Because… well… where did you take this book from?”

“From the library in my house.”

“What if they notice that one book is missing? What if someone caughts me with it?” You say, already feeling the fear underneath your skin.

“Did you see the size of that library? Do you know how many books are there?” he lifts his eyebrows. Yes, you know the Jeon’s gigantic library. You’ve dreamed of having a library like this many times. There are hundreds of books in it. “They will never notice that one book is missing. Besides, no one reads anything in that house. My mother just keeps the library for fashion.” Jungkook then takes your hand with his own - what makes a warmth spread through your body - and puts the book over it, the most beautiful smile on his lips. “There’s nothing to worry about, Y/N. Please, accept it.”

You stare at the book.  A strange sensation fills up your heart.

Jungkook remembered your conversation and paid attention to what you said. You are, indeed, tired of reading the same three books you own over and over again - books are expensive, your family can’t waste any money with anything other than food. Besides… most people usually don’t approve your liking for books. Your mother herself has already said that you shouldn’t even have learned how to read; she says that a woman must only know how to cook, how to clean and how to respect her husband. 

It’s the first time someone takes your interests seriously. This is the most thoughtful present you have ever received.

You can’t hold back a smile.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” you confess in a shy whisper. “Thank you so much, Jungkook.”

He gasps.

“You said my name.” He smiles widely. “It’s the first time you say my name.”

You feel your cheeks heating up. “D-Don’t get used to it.”

Jungkook laughs again, and this time, you laugh as well.

This strange sensation in your heart seems to be overflowing.

This won’t end up well.

“Do you know how to ride a horse?”

You frown, eyes focused on the shirt between your hands. “Not really, sir.”

“Would you like to learn?”

You stop and stare at him.

There’s that glint in Jungkook’s eyes - the glint that says he’s planning something.

“I confess I would like to, but I don’t have time. Nor permission.” You say, looking at the shirt again.

“Why? Your brothers ride the horses.” Again, it seems that Jungkook doesn’t know his own family.

“My brothers and my father are farmers. They need to ride the horses to take care of the herd.”

“Alright. But you want to learn, don’t you?”

You stop again and look at him suspiciously.

“What do you mean, sir?”

He smiles in a playful way, almost like a child. “I just thought that you would want to take a break from all the work.”

“Sir, I can’t take breaks.” You exclaim. Jungkook doesn’t understand that you can’t do whatever you want. “I have to work. What if someone caughts me?”

“You’ll be with me.”

“And? I’m sure nobody would do anything to you, but I’d certainly get punished.” After so long, you feel intimate enough to be a little rude to him. “You’ve already been very kind to me, giving me all those books. That’s enough, sir. I’m thankful.”

“But reading books isn’t nearly as fun as riding a horse.” His stubbornness can be annoying at times. “Come on, Y/N. Just once!”

“No. My family will notice that I’m taking too long to finish.”

“We almost finished way sooner than usual. Nobody will notice.”

“Sir-”

“Please?”

You freeze when he takes both of your hands in his.

Your heartbeat increases, your eyes widen. Jungkook doesn’t touch you so often - he is very polite - but when he does, your body reacts immediately. Being close to him can be a torture sometimes. He is good, intelligent, funny… and extremely handsome. You look forward to meeting him every week. At times, you’re way slower than usual, just to spend more time with him. 

Your feelings for him have grown quickly like fire spreading in the woods.

This won’t end up well, the voice insists to whisper on your ears angrily.

Jungkook has his big pleading eyes staring at you. 

This won’t end up well. This won’t end up well. This won’t end up well. This won’t end up-

“Alright,” you sigh, giving in. Jungkook giggles excitedly. “But just today! And not for too long.”

Jungkook helps you to get up and guides you to his horse: a beautiful all-brown animal, tall and strong. This horse is probably healthier than me, you think. Master Jeon values his awarded horses a lot… more than his own family.

"Come. He's a very calm animal. He won't hurt you." Jungkook encourages, offering his hand for you to take. You look around, worried that someone might be watching. You're glad that this farm is so incredibly big and that your usual spot by the river is so far from the plantations, the main house and the stables where everyone usually stays.

At the same time, sheer excitement bubbles inside of you.

You take Jungkook's hand.

He helps you to sit on the horse's back. "Stay calm," Jungkook advises. "He can feel if you're nervous or not."

"I'm not nervous," you state, holding the reins the way you've always seen your brothers doing. 

He keeps giving you instructions before guiding the horse slowly for a while. The animal is very obedient; it follows Jungkook's commands without complaining. 

"Do you think you can guide it by yourself now?" He asks. You nod confidently.

"Yes."

Jungkook steps away.

He can't hide his utter shock when he sees you riding the animal as if you were born doing so.

The horse obeys you easily as you guide him around. Soon, you feel brave enough to ride faster. The speed, the wind on your face and hair, the excitement of doing something you shouldn't - all of this makes you laugh at the top of your lungs.

Perhaps Jungkook was right when he said that riding horses is funnier than reading books…

"I have to admit, I'm impressed," he says when you stop by his side again. "You didn't even need help."

"Well, I've been watching my father doing this my whole life." You shrug. 

"But why did you stop?"

"Because this is enough for today." You say even though it disappoints you. "I don't want to put myself in danger. Can you help me…?"

Jungkook lifts his arms, ready to pick you up. You put your hand on his shoulders.

You lose balance and almost fall. Jungkook catches your body in time.

You freeze.

His hands are firmly placed on each side of your waist; your hands are on his chest. You're way too close.

Your faces, millimeters apart.

Dangerously close.

He's so close that you can feel his breath. So close that you can see every little detail on his face. So close that you feel your whole body heat up. So close that you can feel his heart beat rapidly under your palm.

So close that, if you simply leaned your head forward, your lips would touch.

And you really, really want to.

But you step back. 

"Hm… thank you." You avoid his gaze, embarrassed. You've never been this close to a man before… and Jungkook's not just any man. He's the man that makes your heart beat fast and the man that understands and respects you and the man that doesn't underestimate you. He's the man who you can talk to, who you can laugh with, who always manages to brighten your day.

He is the right man.

But, at the same time, he is the wrong man.

That's why you step back. That's why you walk away with your head lowered.

Because it doesn't matter how much you want it - you and him will never end up well.

This week, Jungkook brought two horses.

You got surprised and excited, but pretended to be angry. I said that I'd do it once, sir!

But here you are - riding by his side.

Jungkook let you ride the same brown horse again, since the animal might be more familiarized with you. You completely lost sight of time, too entertained in the feeling of freedom that riding a horse can provide.

You're also lost in Jungkook's beauty.

He looks astonishing: his strong arms, his veiny hands holding the reins with ease. The way his soft hair bounces and waves with the wind. His confident posture. 

You had to stop looking - otherwise you'd fall from the horse.

You're so entertained that you don't care when the sky becomes dark with heavy storm clouds. 

"Sir, it's raining!" You scream so he can hear. Not that you needed to say anything: thunder echoes around you, and the first heavy drops starts falling from the sky. You're worried. Everybody knows that being in an open field under a storm is never a good idea.

"It's too late to try to go back to the house," Jungkook says. "We need coverage!"

Without saying anything else, you follow him down the hill at a fast pace, the heavy rain whipping your faces and bodies. You realize where Jungkook is heading to: the warehouse. You manage to put yourselves and the horses inside of the empty building.

Your heart beats fast with adrenaline. Jungkook laughs, looking at his damp clothes. You're not better than him. Usually, you'd be angry with this situation… but now, all you can do is laugh as well.

"We should pay more attention next time," you say. Your clothes and hair are dripping.

"But it was fun, wasn't it?" Jungkook asks. You shrug and smile. The noise of the wind and the water hitting against the warehouse's ceiling violently is unsettling and loud.

"I love to see you smile."

You freeze.

What…?

Jungkook is looking at you with a sweet smile on his lips. His eyes, however, are clouded with something you've never seen before. It's enough to make your stomach twirl and a shiver run underneath your skin.

He steps closer.

This won't end up well.

This time, though, you don't back away.

You stand firm, gaze locked with his, as Jungkook puts a strand of wet hair behind your ear.

All you can hear is the beating of your heart. All you can see is his face.

This won't end up well.

Jungkook analyzes your features carefully, almost as if he's searching for something.

"I know this might sound strange," he says, his voice almost disappearing between the loud noises of the storm. "But sometimes, when I look at you, I… I feel that I already know you."

"But you know me." You whisper back.

"No. I mean… I mean that it feels like I've known you for a long time. More time than I can remember…"

It confuses you.

But, at the same time, it makes sense.

Being with Jungkook feels… familiar. Almost like a distant childhood memory. Something you can't picture or explain. You just know that it's there; it exists.

Your feelings for him.

This familiarity is still there when Jungkook closes the distance and kisses you; when your lips move slowly, in synchronicity, with raw passion. It feels new but familiar when his hands touch your body and when you feel his warm skin under his clothes. Even though it's the first time, the weight of his body over yours seems familiar. The way your members entangle, your fingers gripping his hair, his lips on your neck, the heat, the sweat, the pleasure.

It feels familiar.

It feels like home. 

And it feels bittersweet. 

Because, deep down… the voice that says that this won't end up well is still echoing.

Something tells you that you should believe it.

"Sister, are you alright?" 

You hold your stomach with one hand and wipe your mouth with the back of the other hand. The horrible taste of vomit washes your mouth.

"Y-Yes. It was probably something I ate-"

More vomit erupts through your lips. Your sister puts her hand on your back and pats it gently. 

"But if it was something you ate, then all of us should be feeling sick as well." She says. "You must be sick. We should call the doctor. I'll tell mom-"

You hold her hand tightly.

"Don't tell mom." You say firmly. "I'm alright."

Your sister frowns, confused. "But, Y/N, you've been feeling unwell for some days. What if it's something serious? What if…"

She blinks rapidly.

"What if…?"

You see the moment her astute eyes gleam with realization.

"Sister… are you…?"

"Am I what?" You ask in a defensive manner - trying to hide your fear.

Her jaw is dropped, eyes widened.

"How could you?!" She half whispers, half screams. You watch as a mix of feelings surface on her eyes; anger, betrayal, confusion, worry. "You're not married yet! What will people say about you when they notice-?!"

"Notice what?!" You don't want to hear the words. If she says it, it'll become real. It can't be real.

"I saw you with him. I saw you with Jungkook."

Freezing fear creeps on you.

"I followed you some days ago and saw you together. Do you think I wouldn't notice that something was wrong? You've been insisting to wash the clothes by yourself for months. Everyone knows you hate to do this!"

You don't know what to say. 

You feel stupid. Desperate. Scared.

You don't even notice when the tears start streaming down your cheeks.

"I don't know what to do." You whisper weakly.

Your sister shakes her head. "Did he propose to you, at least? You must marry him now. It's the only way to regain your honor."

You shake your head. "I… I'll talk to him. I must talk to him today."

The girl swipes her hand over her face as she starts to feel desperate for you. "Why did you let him do this to you, Y/N…?"

"You don't understand." You're quick to say. "We love each other. We… we'll figure out what to do. We'll find a way out."

You know you're just saying this to calm yourself down. You have no idea if you'll figure out what to do. You don't even know what Jungkook's reaction will be when he finds out…

That's the only thing in your mind as you wait for him, leaning under a tree. Your fingers are shaking, your breathing is short and rapid. What if Jungkook abandons me? What will I do? My parents will never forgive me. No one will help me at the town. They'll be ashamed of me and they'll hate me.

You should have figured that this would happen. After all these nights when you sneaked out of your house to meet him…  The tears start falling again, followed by quiet sobs. You destroyed your life. A dishonored woman. A prostitute…

"Y/N, what's wrong?!"

You see Jungkook running to you, worry covering his features the moment he realizes you're crying. He holds your face with both hands. "What happened? Did someone hurt you? Something happened with your family?"

The uncontrollable sobs won't let you speak. Instead, you just let yourself cry as Jungkook hugs you tightly, even though he doesn't understand what's happening.

It takes a long time for you to calm down.

"J-Jungkook…" you step away from him. Your eyes are glued to the floor. You're not brave enough to look at him and see his reaction.

"Yes, darling? What happened?" He asks, voice full of worry and care.

You gulp.

He has to know.

"I-I'm pregnant." 

Silence.

The silence lasts for so long that you think he didn't hear.

You finally have the courage to look up at him…

And you see Jungkook's eyes welled up with tears, the most beautiful smile adorning his lips.

"Pregnant?" He whispers weakly as the first tear trickles down his cheek. "You're pregnant?"

"...yes."

"Am I going to be a father?" 

"Yes."

Jungkook laughs and engulfs you in a hug.

From all the reactions you thought of, this is the one you were least expecting - but that's the one you were secretly hoping for the most. Jungkook hugs you tightly, kisses the top of your head, your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, whispering "I love you"s in between. You're so astonished that you have no reaction at all.

"You made me the happiest man in the world today, Y/N," he grins widely and sniffs. "I'll be a father! You're carrying our child!"

"Are you really happy?" You ask timidly, almost suspicious.

"Why wouldn't I be?! I love you." He holds your face and kisses your lips sweetly. "I love you. God, I love you."

You feel overwhelmed by his words. A smile finally appears on your lips.

"What will we do, Jungkook?" Your voice still sounds weak. "We should get married…"

This is the moment his smile faces away.

His features change in an instant - from utter joy, to deep concern. He frowns and blinks, licks his lips.

"We need to do something." He agrees.

"You must talk to my parents-"

"We need to run away from here."

You gasp.

"Run away? Why?" You ask, confused. "If we get married as soon as possible, people won't notice-"

"No. We need to leave the town. We need to disappear." The hurry and worry in his voice makes you uneasy.

"Jungkook, I have a family. I can't leave them behind."

"Darling, you don't understand," he cups your cheeks again. "My father, he's- he's dangerous. He would never accept our marriage. I don't know what he might do to you if he finds out…"

You've heard rumors before. People feared Master Jeon at the town, it was common knowledge. You've heard people saying how he could be ruthless when he wanted. But you never thought he would do anything worse than some threatening.

However, Jungkook is his son. He knows Master Jeon better than you do. If his son looks so frightened of what his own father might do…

Fear makes your body temperature decrease.

"I will protect your family." Jungkook continues. "I'll make sure that nothing bad happens to them and I'll find a way to take them out of here. But, first, we need to leave. As soon as possible."

Jungkook places his hand over your stomach in a reassuring way.

"I will never let anyone hurt you. I will protect you and our child."

The confidence in which he says this makes your heart feel warm. 

You trust him.

The small inn is nearly empty, but it doesn't make you any less nervous. Your heart is tight with insecurity and worry. You did everything Jungkook said: you left the house in the middle of the night, you didn't tell anything to your family (what was so painful that made you cry all the way out of the farm), you just brought a small case with a few clothes (not that you own many anyway). He asked you to wait here while he prepares everything. You plan to disappear tonight.

You put your hand on your belly and caress it; it's still hard to believe that there's someone growing inside of you, that in a few months you'll have a baby in your arms. The idea is terrifying… and reassuring. This child is the proof of your love. You love each other - and this love is so great that you couldn't keep it to yourselves only; this child is the result. It doesn't matter that you're not married yet or that life will definitely be more difficult from now on. You already love this child.

A small smile adorns your lips as the image of a baby boy with Jungkook's big eyes appears in your mind.

Everything will be alright. We have each other.

But you can't fight the insecurity and the growing anxiety.

You desperately want this to work out. You want to spend the rest of your life with Jungkook… but that pessimistic voice still echoes in your head, even though you've been trying to shut it. Almost as if… almost as if you've already faced a great disappointment in the past.

This feeling doesn't make sense. You would have remembered such suffering.

As time goes by, you start to get even more impatient and nervous. Your heart feels tight in a way you never felt before. What if something went wrong? Why is Jungkook taking so long?

That's when you hear the door cracking open behind you.

You immediately get up and smile, relief lifting the invisible weight from your shoulders. "Jungkook, I thought-"

When you turn around, the smile on your lips dies.

You're paralyzed.

Unconsciously, you take one step back.

"M-Master Jeon." You whisper weakly.

The man stares at you in a way that makes you feel small.

He enters the room and closes the door behind him. You take another step back.

He analyzes you from head to toe. His eyes are as cold as ice, as sharp as blades and as judging as the eyes of an executor. You feel impossibly cold. Your throat is dry. There's an acrid taste in your tongue.

This man always scared you. He barely even interacted with you in all the years that you and your family worked for him, but in the few times he did, it was always unpleasant. He treated your father badly, but this was nothing out of the extraordinary; his wife was equally awful to you, your mother and sisters. You always thought he was just another rich and arrogant man like many others you've met.

Tonight, however, you see in those eyes something you've never noticed and you've never seen in anyone.

He isn't just an arrogant man.

He represents real danger.

Master Jeon smirks. 

You instinctively put your hands on your stomach. Master Jeon follows the action with his eyes and tilts his head.

"I can't tell if you were smart or naive," the man starts. His voice makes your bones feel frozen. "I can't blame you for wanting a better life, kid. I guess that's all people like you dream of. But you choose the wrong person to take advantage of."

Your breathing is difficult. "W-What do you mean?"

"Don't play stupid with me, girl." He warns. "This situation is really bothersome. See, I let you and your family live in my property, let you eat my food and drink my water… and that's how you act with me? Try to trick my son? That's very low of you."

Your face contorts in disgust when you realize what he means. "You think I seduced Jungkook?! You're wrong! We love each other!"

"Don't make me laugh, kid." Master Jeon shakes his head as if he's reprimanding a little stubborn child. "Love you? Hah! You're a nobody." His eyes, once again, analyze you from head to toe. "I can't blame Jungkook for falling to your charms, though. It would be such a waste if he simply ignored you."

The disgust deepens. The way he talks about you makes you feel dirty. 

"But you see, kid, I'm not an evil man." He sarcastically says. "I don't like the idea of hurting women, a pregnant woman on top of that. I'm a good christian. And because of that, I'll give you a chance of ending this uncomfortable situation."

"I don't want to hear it," you say, although you felt your whole body shivering when he talked about hurting women. "You can't buy me. You can't separate me and Jungkook."

Master Jeon laughs darkly.

"Oh, darling. I can." Another shiver runs down your spine. "I want you to disappear forever. There's a carriage out there waiting for you. You'll never see my son again. Like this, you can give birth to your child peacefully and live your life as if you've never met him."

"No!" The anger overwhelms the fear and you end up screaming. "Jungkook is the father! You can't separate a father from his child!"

Master Jeon laughs as if you just told the funniest joke he ever heard. "Oh, you think you're so important, don't you? This child is a nobody, just like you. Jungkook made a mistake. He's a young man! Men make mistakes like this all the time. We're imperfect beings, after all. Don't you think that just because you're pregnant he has any responsibility over your child."

You're so shocked that you don't know what to say; your sight seems painted in red with pure anger. 

"You can't control me. You can't control us." Your fists tighten. "I won't leave."

Master Jeon's jaw clenches.

When he speaks again, his voice is dangerously low. 

"I said that I don't like the idea of hurting you… but what about your family, huh?"

You feel the world crumbling under your feet.

"W-What…?"

"Your family… a bunch of hungry rats. You've never really done a good job, in my opinion. Maybe it's time to get rid of all of them?"

Your hands start shaking.

"W-What do you m-mean…?"

"Do you know where my men are right now, kid?" A glint of satisfaction crosses Master Jeon's eyes when he sees your panic. "They're surrounding your small house. One order… and they'll burn it down. Your parents and your siblings are fast asleep right now, huh? I wonder how long will it take until they notice the fire…"

"No!"

Out of your wildest instincts, you throw yourself over him, fists tight, trying to hurt him everywhere you can touch. It's useless, though, for Master Jeon is overwhelmingly stronger than you and manages to grip your wrists in an instant.

"See how easily I can destroy your life?" He hisses. "Nobody would even notice that you and your family disappeared. That's because you're nothing, Y/N. You don't exist. This child doesn't exist. I won't let my son waste more time with you." Tears are rolling down your cheeks at this point. You've never been so scared in your life. "The only way to protect your family is to leave. So, what do you choose, huh?"

You look at Master Jeon right in the eye.

You know he isn't lying. You know this isn't the first time he kills someone - and he doesn't even feel guilty about it.

He just doesn't care.

You think of your family. They can't be punished because of your actions.

More than that… you think of your child. Their life depends on yours. You can't be imprudent anymore. 

You think of Jungkook.

It hurts so much that it feels as if you've been physically impalled. But, weakly and hesitantly, you nod.

"... I'll leave."

Master Jeon smiles, satisfied, and lets go of your wrists. "Good girl."

You don't have any strength to walk as Master Jeon's men take you to the carriage. The tears fall nonstop, you can't choke the sobs. You didn't even say goodbye to your family. They would never know what happened to you; you think of how painful it will be to your parents, searching for their daughter, never knowing if she's alive or not…

Jungkook will think you ran away from him. He'll never meet his own child. He'll never take them in his arms. 

You will never be in his arms once again.

You hug your own body, feeling empty and cold.

Why is the Universe so cruel to you? Why did it make you and Jungkook be part of completely different worlds? 

Why can't it let you be together?

You almost feel as if there are invisible shackles chaining your wrists tightly.

Only if you were not you, and he was not him… if you had different lives…

Quietly, you swear to yourself… if there is another life, then I'll go after Jungkook.

I will never give up on him.

I will never rest until we can finally be together.

× 1914 × 

"Sir," Jungkook starts, nervousness very evident in his posture and voice. "I love your daughter."

You nervously watch your father's reaction. He doesn't move, watching Jungkook very carefully. You fiddle with your fingers nervously. Your mother caresses your back, trying to calm you down at least a little.

"I promise I will take care of her, protect her and respect her until my last days." At the same time you feel touched, you also want to laugh. Jungkook is speaking in such a serious voice - he usually doesn't talk like this. It's endearing and makes your heart feel warm. "I will never hurt her or let her down. I ask you to approve our union, sir." He coughs and shifts. "Hmm… Please."

You try your hardest not to laugh, and so does your mother. God, he's adorable.

Your father still stares at Jungkook very seriously (threateningly) for long seconds. Long. Long. Seconds.

Jungkook is trying his best not to gulp.

"I know you since you were a kid, Jungkook. I know you very well." He gets up from the couch. "That's why I can't…"

Jungkook holds his breath.

So do you.

Your father finally breaks a smile.

"That's why I can't say no. You have my blessing."

Jungkook sighs in relief.

You get up in a jump and hug him, letting an excited scream slash the air. The atmosphere in the room immediately becomes light-hearted. 

"You didn't need to scare him so much, darling," your mother reprimands, although she has a smile on her lips. "We all knew you'd say yes."

"I had to put some pressure on him." Your father smiles widely and shakes Jungkook's hand. "I'm glad that you'll be part of our family, son." He then pushes Jungkook closer and his smile disappears. "But if you ever make my daughter cry, I will kill you."

"Darling!" Your mother exclaims.

You laugh and intertwine your fingers with his.

Jungkook and you are childhood friends - and you're in love with him ever since you can remember. He is not only your lover, but also your best friend. This is the moment you've been waiting for a long time; in a strange way, you always knew it would be him. It almost feels as if you've been perfectly crafted for each other. 

Your and Jungkook's families are very close. The village you live in is thriving and pacific. You're excited to tell your friends the good news; honestly, it seems that entire village knew it would happen someday.

Life is good.

And it is about to be even better now.

Nothing can put you and Jungkook apart.

You're walking down the street towards the grocery store in the morning when you notice a strange commotion.

The central square is more crowded than usual. There's an uncommon heavy tension hovering in the air; people talk to each other with worried expressions. Even Jungkook is standing outside of the grocery store, discussing with a neighbor. A frown shadows his features.

"Good morning." You greet the men. "What's happening?"

"Didn't you read the journal today?" Jungkook asks. His expression worries you even more.

He hands you the newspaper. 

The headline is written in bold, capital letters.

"War?" You mutter. It feels as if your inner temperature immediately decreases. "B-But… why?"

"Those important men," the old man who Jungkook was talking to scoffs. "They want to fight between themselves and end up involving everyone else!"

"B-But this is big." you mutter as your eyes quickly read down the page. Now you understand why everyone seemed so tense. "How many countries are involved…?"

"It seems that the troops are already marching." Another man says.

You just notice that your fingers were shaking when Jungkook holds your hand in a reassuring way.

You look at each other.

"This sounds horrible, Jungkook." 

"I know." He nods. "But I doubt that it will last too long. Besides, we're more than safe. This village is so far from anywhere important. We won't even notice anything."

You nod as well, staring at his reassuring eyes.

Of course, the news that a war started are bad. But Jungkook is right. There's no way you'll be involved in this. It's not as if it will be able to prevent your wedding.

It's not as if it can put you and Jungkook apart.

The living room of your house is dead silent.

The place is full of people: your family, neighbors, everyone sat on the couch, chairs or on the floor. The windows are opened, and there are even more neighbors peeking from them, trying to listen to the radio. Since your family is one of the few that possesses this device, you father made sure to invite everyone to listen to the news.

Every word spoken by the radio host seems to be striking through you. 

"Jesus Christ," your mother whispers. She holds the small crucifix close to her chest.

Hundreds. Thousands of dead soldiers, from many nationalities. Not only that: civilian cities have been bombarded as well. The number of dead is so great that the authorities have trouble counting them.

Something heavy and dark called grief hovers above your heads.

You grip Jungkook's hand even tighter. 

Your village is safe…

Right?

You sit quietly at the back of the grocery store and watch Jungkook finally close the doors at night. He looks tense and worried - like everyone else is.

"Look at these shelves. Almost empty." He sighs heavily, putting his hands on each side of his waist. "There's barely any merchandise; they don't sell us anything anymore. They give all the food to feed the soldiers in the battlefield."

"I think they need it more than we do." You say in all honesty.

"Well, yes, but soon we won't have any food."

Jungkook pushes a chair and sits in front of you. Your knees touch, you hold each other's hands. He looks so tired and drained. The war is starting to affect everyone: this grocery store is the only one in the village, and since the food is becoming so scarce, everyone suffers. 

"Jungkook…" you call quietly. He lifts his gaze to look at you. "I was thinking… maybe we should postpone our wedding."

"Why?" He frowns.

"Well… things are so difficult." You shrug sadly. "Besides, I don't think there's any atmosphere for weddings right now."

"Hey!" Jungkook leans closer and puts his hand on your cheek affectionately. "Don't say that. Of course, we won't be able to offer a big party like we imagined, but it doesn't matter, right? We can't let this bother us. We've been dreaming of this moment for years."

You sigh. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He smiles. You love his smile. You love the way his eyes smile as well every time his lips do. "The situation doesn't matter… as long as we're together."

You can't help but smile, too.

"As long as we're together."

In one week, you’ll finally get married.

But you’re far from feeling happy.

There’s barely any food in the village. Past week, soldiers inspected every house and took the animals with themselves; they just let one chicken per family, and considering that many families didn’t even have animals in the first place, many of them are starting to face famine. Luckily, all the villagers are very united, so everyone made sure to share their food stock.

When you saw those soldiers arriving in the cars, you body paralyzed in sheer panic. Up until now, the war didn’t really seem real. You heard the news on the radio, on the journal, you knew that thousands of soldiers and civilians were dying. When food started to become scarce, it was bothersome, but it still felt too far. When those men wearing uniforms came, though, reality hit you all at once. 

The soldiers weren’t very polite. They entered the houses and took the animals without many explanations - what, of course, angered some people.

“Sir, you can’t take our animals like this!” one of your neighbors complained. When he spoke up, everyone on the main square went dead silent. “We have families, children! If you take our animals, we won’t have anything to eat!”

One of the soldiers - the one with the highest ranking, apparently - approached the man at heavy steps. His eyes reflected some type of anger and impassivity you’ve never seen before.

The eyes of someone who saw too much.

“Your compatriots are dying at this exact moment in the trenches.” His hard voice echoed around the square. “They’re agonizing, being dismembered, being taken away from their families. Offering your animals without complaints is the least thing you can do to minimize their pain. There is a war happening right now, sir. There are more important things to care about other than your family.”

No one dared to say anything else after this.

You feel that you already lost some kilos you shouldn’t have lost. Your dresses and skirts seem larger than they were supposed to be. You try not to complain about it, though; the kids needed to eat more than you, after all, especially now that winter is coming. The temperature at night already feels too cold.

The main square used to be a bright and happy place, even at night, when villagers liked to take late night walks. These days, though, people don’t have the courage to walk at night anymore. It seems that, ever since the war started, the colors of the world are fading away slowly. Everything seems… grey.

“They’re saying that this is the war to end all wars.” Jungkook says quietly. Since the square is empty, you two can have some privacy. Yet, it feels lonely. “But at what cost?”

You sigh heavily. The journals and radio are constantly spreading speeches full of patriotism, trying to make people support the war, but you can’t agree with any of them. Civilian villages like yours and the many others around the country have nothing to do with this war, nor the poor soldiers sent to fight. No one cares about patriotism or honor when a dead body is all that lasted from a loved one.

“But it could be worse,” you say. Small clouds of steam are formed at each breathing. “At least our village isn’t near the front. I can’t even imagine how much these people are suffering.”

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with yours. His cheeks are hollower and he has purple bags under his eyes; he also lost weight. You don’t like to see him like this. “When we planned our wedding months ago, this is not how I expected it to be.”

“Neither did I.” you admit sadly. This feeling of grief seems to be hovering above the village - and the world - all the time; no one feels excited about your wedding. “Are you sure we should still get married, Jungkook? Shouldn’t we wait a little bit more?”

“We can’t give up now that we’re so close.” He always finds the strength to smile when you need him the most. “I… I feel sorry that our wedding won’t be what we expected. I wish we could get married at better times, too. But… we’ll be together. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”

You can’t help but smile and nod.

Yet, something tells you that Jungkook doesn’t want to postpone your wedding because of some darker reason. A reason you don’t really want to consider.

Jungkook puts his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, pressing his lips on your temple. “I love you.” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

In this world full of violence and uncertainty, at least one thing is certain: your love for each other.

That’s when you hear the sound.

It’s far. So far that, for a while, you simply ignore it.

But it becomes louder.

“A thunder?” you wonder, frowning. You and Jungkook look up at the sky at the same time; the clouds don’t look like storm ones. 

The sound repeats.

Both of you sit straight and look at each other. It doesn’t sound like a thunder anymore. 

Some villagers come out of their houses or look through the windows. Just like you, they stare at the sky in confusion.

Jungkook stands up and stares at north, eyes widened. 

You look at the same direction.

Far away, the dark sky lights up - but not in the way that it does when a lightning slashes the air. The light has a reddish color to it. It doesn’t fade away so fast.

The floor trembles under your feet.

“Y/N,” Jungkook calls. His voice sounds quiet, almost too shocked, and worried. “Go home. Now.”

You hear the villagers gasping and getting into their houses again as realization hits them as well.

Bombs.

In the next morning, your village is crowded with soldiers.

None of you were able to sleep at night. The unstoppable sound of the bombs and planes didn’t let you blink an eye. The sounds still seemed to be considerably far, but they were enough to make the floor shake and your worst nightmares become reality.

When the sounds finally stopped, a deep silence reigned.

Some hours after, early in the morning, the sound of cars took place. Cars, carriages and male voices.

Many voices.

Your father didn’t let you and your mother leave the house. You two had to sit there and wait for seemingly endless hours to know what was happening. The nervousness seemed to be eating you up alive.

Finally, your father came back. You and your mother get up at the same time, anxious.

“What’s happening?” you ask in a hurried tone.

You father passes his hand on his head. He looks shocked, worried and scared - all at once.

“A village some kilometers away from here was bombarded last night.” He announces. Your mother gasps and puts her hand over her chest. You just stare at him, frozen in place.

“A-And what are the soldiers doing here?”

His gaze rests in you.

You don’t like that gaze.

“Y/N, they… they…”

“They what?” fear starts to take control. You notice your father holds a folded piece of paper. “What is this?”

You forcefully take the paper from his hands and open it.

“They are spreading this around the village,” your father’s voice sounds somehow guilty.

You can’t move.

“What’s happening, darling?” your mother asks.

No.

“They came to recruit all the young and healthy men to fight in the war.”

Your fingers are shaking. Your eyes are already full of tears.

Jungkook.

You run out of the house, ignoring your parents screaming at you, asking you to stop.

You don’t care that it’s too cold and you’re not wearing appropriate clothes. You don’t care that the city is completely full of soldiers and some of them yell inappropriate comments about you as you run by. You don’t care about the way your neighbors look at you.

They can’t take Jungkook. They can’t.

When you reach the main square, though, your heart drops.

All the young men are standing in lines. The youngest is probably only fourteen years old; the boy cries quietly, trying to choke his own sobs. 

“Don’t take my son away from me!” a woman screams, being held back by other villagers. “He’s just a boy! Please!”

“Shut up, woman!” a soldier screams back at her in a threatening way. 

More people are crying quietly. The sight almost looks like a funeral.

Then, you find him.

He’s already standing there, jaw clenched, fists tight, eyes glued on his feet.

“Jungkook!”

He lifts his gaze.

You see the worry. The anger. The fear. Jungkook has never looked so scared in his life. 

And this is what breaks you.

You try to run to him, but a soldier holds you back. Jungkook looks at you, helpless, as you struggle in a desperate attempt to fight the soldier. Your sight is blurred due to the tears.

“No! You can’t take him! You can’t take him! Jungkook!”

That’s why he didn’t want to postpone the wedding.

He knew that this could happen anytime.

“Stop it, bitch!” the soldier yells and pushes you violently. Your shoulder hits the hard ground and you groan in pain.

“Don’t touch her!”

A commotion starts when Jungkook throws himself over the soldier and punches his face. The young boys don’t know what to do; the villagers can just watch in shock; other soldiers move quickly. Three of them are necessary to take Jungkook away from the soldier. You scream, desperate, when they start to punch and kick him. 

Jungkook lays on the floor, nose bleeding, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“It seems that you already want to start your days in the military with a punishment!” a soldier yells mockingly and spits on him. “This one won’t last a day in the front.”

The front?!

You try to get up, but suddenly feel too weak to do so. Instead, you grab the boot of a soldier nearby. The man looks down at you.

“P-Please,” you whisper. The sobs won’t let you speak properly. “Don’t take him away from me.”

The man stares at you in silence. However, his gaze over you is different from the other soldiers; he looks tired, sad and compassionate. Although he probably has no authorization, he helps you to get up with care.

“I’m sorry.” is all that he can say before walking away.

Panic grows stronger when two soldiers take Jungkook from the floor rather roughly and start dragging him away. 

All the other young men start to march as well, following the orders. Mothers and fathers around you cry harder. Their sons yell their farewells and promises to stay safe.

But you refuse to say goodbye.

“Jungkook! Jungkook!” again, you try to run to him, but a different person holds you back this time: your father. Your voice cracks. You can’t stop crying.

He looks at you behind his shoulder; the soldiers won’t stop dragging him. The fact that the glint of happiness you know so well can’t be seen in his eyes kills you.

The fact that, once again, Jungkook tries to smile in a reassuring way even though he’s bleeding and crying kills you even more.

“I love you,” he says, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’ll always love you. I’ll always come back to you.”

He disappears inside one of the cars.

You scream until your throat hurts. You cry until your chest aches and your sight is unclear. Your parents don’t let you run after the car as the troops leave the village, taking all the young and healthy men with them.

Taking the love of your life with them.

And you couldn’t even touch him one last time.

× 1915 ×

You don’t look at yourself in the mirror anymore.

You know that you’re way too thin, way too drained out of any life that still lasted inside of you. Long gone is the happy girl you used to be. She is dead.

It seems that happiness itself disappeared from this world.

Many villagers died during the year due to famine, diseases, or the severe winter. Soldiers came to the village to take as many clothes they could find - the army needed fabric to make more uniforms. It seems that the sun doesn’t shine as much as it used to. The sky isn’t as blue. Birds don’t chirp anymore.

You don’t even feel too shocked anymore when you hear the terrifying sirens and the sound of bombers from far and you’re all forced to hide in the few deep enough basements in the village.

The only thing you do is wonder where he is.

You didn’t receive any letter. Any report. Nothing. But you know he is alive, because no one came to your house bringing a folded flag and a medal as they always do to honor a fallen soldier.

Many of the boys that were forcefully dragged into the war have fallen.

But Jungkook hasn’t. This is what brings you hope. This is why you sit close to the radio day and night in the hopes to hear any news, any hint of his whereabouts. For weeks, the radio is silent, meaning that something broke the connection. But it always starts working again.

He will come back. 

You managed to hide your wedding dress from the soldiers. It’s still inside the wardrobe, untouched.

× 1916 ×

One morning, someone knocks on your front door.

You dreamed of this moment multiple times. The moment when Jungkook would come back, safe and sound, wearing a uniform. He would smile and hug you. His body and soul might be hurt, but you’re sure that you could help him get over whatever horrors he witnessed. 

You could face anything together. 

But you already know it isn’t him before you open the door. 

Instead, another soldier stands in front of you.

He carries a perfectly folded flag in his arms.

In this moment, something inside of you dies.

You lost sight of time.

An hour might have passed by. A day, a week. You have no idea. You cried yourself asleep so many times that it made difficult to know.

The flag doesn’t smell like him. It doesn’t represent him. Still, you hug it close to your chest as if it was him. The fabric is humid with your endless tears. 

Why is the Universe so cruel?

Why couldn’t it simply wait one week? 

Why did you have to be born in a world full of violence, full of death?

You don’t understand why the chains of fate chose to punish you of all people. You just wanted to be with the love of your life. That’s all you ever wanted.

Now, he’s gone. You’ll never see him, touch him, hear his voice. Whenever you think of how he possibly died, more and more tears come. The person you loved the most in the world, the kindest man you’ve ever met - lonely, cold, hungry and hurt in a filthy trench.

The last reminiscent of his existence is the letter laying beside you - the letter you weren’t brave enough to read.

You remembered the soldier that came to bring you the flag: he was the same man from two years ago that helped you to get up. With an amputated leg, he was too injured to keep fighting and was sent back home. But he insisted on coming himself to your village.

“My name is Jimin,” he explained quietly. He looked sad, his eyes were devoid of any bright feeling. “I fought alongside Jungkook in the same troop. He saved my life. He… He was a good man.” Jimin reached for something in the pocket of his shirt: a letter. “He asked me that if he didn’t make it, I should give you this.” The young soldier had to fight back his own tears. “He… he really loved you, ma’am. I hope this can give you some comfort.”

You stare at the dirty folded paper. 

Nothing in this world will ever comfort you.

Yet, with trembling fingers, you unfold the paper and start to read it.

Tears immediately begin falling.

It’s undeniably his calligraphy; by the way some letters are retorted, you can see that he wrote it hurriedly. The paper somehow smells like mud and his fingerprints are all over it.

Once again, you start crying.

This pain will never go away.

Dear Y/N,

I apologize that we couldn’t have the party we always dreamed of. In the moments the pain becomes too great, I like to imagine you wearing your wedding dress. I regret not stealing a glance at it. I should have ignored the tradition that says that seeing the bride wearing the wedding dress before the wedding day brings bad luck.

I don’t want you to suffer imagining what I went through or the things I saw. I beg you to remember us in our best moments, for this is the way I will always remember you. Your smile, your eyes, your hair; no one can ever take these memories away from me, and for this I am grateful.

I wish we could have stayed together. I apologize that I couldn’t keep my promise of being with you until my last days. I truly apologize, Y/N. I hope that your father won’t be mad at me. But I’m a man of my word; and, if there is the slightest chance of us being together again, if by chance there is a next life, I swear I will search for you and keep my promise. Not even this war, heaven or hell, not even death will make us part. 

We will be together. I swear.

Please know that I left this world in peace - because the last thing I saw when I closed my eyes was you.

Forever yours,

Jungkook

× 2017 ×

“Shit!” you exclaim when you check your phone and see the hour.

Oh, no. You can’t be late for Mr. Hwang’s class again. The man apparently already hates you for existing, you can’t give him even more chances to hate you. 

You’re not the most punctual person, and you don’t even have a proper excuse this time. You just sat at the mall’s food court to eat your Big Mac peacefully and boom - one hour has passed. It’s not really your fault that Percy Jackson and The Last Olympian is such a good book. You hesitated for a long time to start reading this series, but now that you gave it a chance, you can’t stop reading - especially not now that Percy is about to drown in the Styx River. 

Can this be considered a good excuse? Maybe Mr. Hwang is a Percy Jackson fan. Who knows.

Your roommate likes to call you The Goddess of Procrastination. You can’t even be mad at her. She’s right.

You sigh and throw the book inside of your bag. If you run fast enough, you’ll manage to make it into the class just ten minutes late. Still better than the last time that you arrived five minutes before the class ended. No one has ever looked at you with so much hatred in this life other than Mr. Hwang in that moment.

But, as you’re about to get up and leave, you hear a phone buzzing.

And it isn’t yours.

You frown, noticing for the first time that a phone lays on the empty chair in front of you. Checking the screen, you see that there’s an incoming call. The name Jimin is written on the screen.

You think of simply ignoring it. It’s none of your business. But something - curiosity, maybe - makes you take the phone and answer the call.

“Hello?” you say, hesitant.

“Oh, thanks Goodness,” a male voice sighs in relief from the other side of the line. For some reason, you feel goosebumps. “Hm, hi. I think you found my phone.”

“Yeah, I think so.” 

“Where did you find it?”

“Hm… at the food court. Here in the mall near the subway station.”

You hear another male voice through the line saying “I told you that you forgot it there, idiot.”

“Shut up, Jimin.” the man scolds and coughs. “I’m sorry. Look, I’m not very far from the mall right now. Could you please wait a little bit so I can pick up my phone with you?”

You bite your bottom lip nervously. You’re way too late for Mr. Hwang’s class. You can’t waste any more time.

Yet… almost as if an invisible force makes you stand in place, you nod (even though he can’t see it). “Alright. But please, be fast.”

“Okay! I’ll be fast! Please, stay exactly where you are. I’ll be there in five minutes!”

He hangs up the phone.

You sit on the chair again, hopeless, and place his phone over the table, so he can see it clearly when he comes. Your leg shakes impatiently as you look around, trying to figure out who the owner is.

You stare at your bag.

One or two more pages won’t hurt.

You take the book again and open where you stopped. This is a tense moment of the story. I mean, you know that Percy won’t die. That’s the beginning of the book after all. But still, the tension is so great that you feel yourself at the edge of your seat. It’s also kind of embarrassing that you don’t know what’s about to happen since this book was released almost ten years ago. Your roommate likes to annoy you, saying that you like to read books for children, but if she had any idea of how good-

“Hm, excuse me.”

You lift your gaze from the book.

There’s a young man standing beside you. He has pitch black hair, fair skin, and honestly the biggest eyes you’ve ever seen. He wears a grey oversized hoodie, black pants and sneakers.

And, for a moment, the world around you seems to stop.

You don’t know exactly why you feel that you can’t breath.

You stare at each other for an embarrassingly long moment before you come back to your senses. You cough and stand up in a jump.

“I-I guess you’re the owner?” you say in an awkward manner. The man blinks and nods; he also seems a bit out of place.

“Y-Yeah!” he smiles. Your heart jumps. He takes the phone. “Thank you so much for waiting. I was going desperate already.”

“It’s alright.” you shrug. “I lose things all the time, too.” 

“I hope I didn’t make you late for anything.”

“No! You didn’t.” He did. “It's totally fine.”

You stand in front of each other awkwardly.

There’s something… strange about this man. You can’t tell what. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s extremely good-looking. But for some reason, your heart is beating fast, your stomach is doing flips and you can't look away from him.

"Alright." He coughs. "I'll… I'll get going. Thank you again."

"You're welcome."

You wave at each other and walk away in opposite directions.

You have to exhale heavily. What the hell was that?! Your heart won't stop beating fast. The whole situation was so strange. He also looked somehow-

"Hey! Wait!"

You feel a hand touching your shoulder. You turn around.

It's him again.

He has a small smile on his lips. He analyzes your face with a frown in a puzzled expression.

"Don't we know each other already?" He asks. "I… I have the feeling that we have met somewhere."

You're ready to say no, but as you analyze his features back, you feel a shiver.

You're sure you've never met him in your life.

Yet, at the same time… he looks familiar. Like the memory of a dream. A dream with horses running freely in an open field. A dream with a choir of nuns singing praises in a great church. A dream with stars, with whispered confessions, the sounds of a storm. A river flowing quietly. The smell of soap. The taste of salty tears, a letter marked with mud. Swords and crowns. A white wedding dress.

You feel dizzy.

"I… I don't know." Your mind is confused. "I don't remember very well."

He nods. His smile becomes timid.

"Maybe we could get to know each other?" He offers. "As a way of thanking you for taking care of my phone. We could get some coffee, maybe? Or soda. Or a beer. Or whatever you like."

You remember that there is still a class to attend.

But Mr. Hwang can wait.

"Coffee sounds nice," you say, smiling back at him.

His own smile widens. It's adorable how his eyes are also smiling. "Great! So… what's your name?"

"It's Y/N."

He repeats your name quietly, almost as if tasting it in his tongue. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. My name is Jungkook."

× 2020 ×

Jungkook falls silent when he finally understands what you're saying.

It's painful to see his frown deepening, the confusion disappearing and being replaced by subtle sadness.

You weren't ready for this.

But it has to be done.

"So… you're leaving." He repeats quietly. You nod.

"Yes." It's a shame that you can't even look at his eyes. "You know how this job offer is important to me. I… I couldn’t say no.”

He opens a small smile. This is what hurts the most. “I know. I’m proud of you, Y/N. I know how much you fought for this job.” His smile fades away as he reaches for your hand. “But… I can’t say that being away from you makes me happy.”

“I’m not happy about this either,” you admit. You want Jungkook to understand how much this is being difficult. How much it’s being painful. 

“So… how long will you be away?” 

You inhale heavily. 

“I don’t know.”

Jungkook seems frozen in place. 

“You… don’t know?” he repeats quietly. Almost as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

The pain becomes stronger.

“The plans are for me to stay indefinitely.”

This is when Jungkook finally realizes why you look so sad. 

He leans on the chair and passes his hand on his hair. You see the color draining from his face. Oh no. As stupid as it seems, you don’t want him to suffer… but you knew he would suffer anyway. 

“Are you telling me that you’re leaving the country indefinitely?” That look in his eyes… “But Y/N… what about us?”

“We can travel and see each other.”

“None of us have the money to keep traveling around like this.” Jungkook points the obvious. Sure, you expect to have a better salary with this job, but things won’t be easy during the first months. 

“We can make it. We’ll figure out what to do.” your own words sound empty, barely a desperate attempt to avoid the obvious.

“How, Y/N? You’re going to the other side of the world and you might never come back.”

You blink rapidly to try to dissipate the tears. “B-But… I don’t want to leave you.”

“You are leaving me.” This sentence felt like a dagger being buried in your heart. Jungkook exhales heavily, trying to calm himself down. He gulps and closes his eyes for a moment.

When he opens them again, he smiles in a reassuring way. Even though he’s hurt, he still tries to console you. This is what breaks you the most. You never understood why he has this habit. You’re so used to it already…

Jungkook reaches for your hand again. “Y/N, I want you to know that I’m truly happy for you. I know how this job is important. You’re going after your dreams. And I… I don’t want to stand in your way.”

“No! You’re not in my way.” You grab his other hand, feeling your heart clench at every minute.

“But I don’t want to trap you here if that’s not what you want for your life.” 

“Jungkook!” You call out. This is not how you want things to end - not that you want it to end at all. “We’ve been together for three years. I am with you because I want to. You’re not trapping me.”

He blinks rapidly again. You notice that he’s trying to fight back the tears, just like you. “But I don’t think this relationship will work like this.”

You can’t say anything. 

He’s right. You know it. You chose to accept the job offer and leave the country. You knew that neither of you would be able to stay away from each other like this.

“What do you mean…?” you whisper, asking the obvious.

“I mean that we should end now.” You want to say no. But again - you know he’s right. You also don’t want to trap him in a relationship when you’ll be away for most of the time. 

You can’t hold back the tears anymore.

“I’m sorry.” you whisper weakly.

“Don’t apologize. We all make our choices, don’t we?” He’s still smiling, but you see no hint of happiness in his eyes. He looks down and presses his lips tightly. “Maybe… maybe in our next life, we’ll be together.”

You don’t know why he said that so suddenly. 

But, for some reason, it hits you deep. So deep that you’re left speechless.

Jungkook gets up. “I really wish you’ll be happy, Y/N.”

For a moment, it seems that he wants to say something more. But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns around and walks away.

He’s glad that you can’t see his tears.

He’s also glad that he didn’t have enough time to show you the ring he bought yesterday.

Although the airport is busy, you feel lonely and cold on the inside.

You’ve been staring at nothing for a long time now, sitting alone in the corner. You said your goodbyes to your friends and family; all of them wished you luck and said you made the best decision of your life. Building a good career and being financially successful is all that matters in this world, after all.

But you can’t feel happy.

You tried to convince yourself that changes are difficult. Moving to a different country with a different culture and habits is never an easy task. It will take some time to adapt your mindset to it. You also can't ignore the fact that you’re leaving everyone you know behind; you’ll have to make new friends. All of this is hard. It’s normal to feel a little bit sad.

The thing is - you’re not feeling just a little bit sad.

You actually feel that there’s a deep hole inside your chest.

The image of Jungkook’s sad smile does not left your mind all these days. He looked so devastated, so disappointed… yet still tried to encourage you. He thought that he was being a burden in your life; this is what hurts you the most. Jungkook was never a burden. Ever since you met him that day at the mall, it seems that your life has brighter colors and happiest days. Jungkook understands you like no other person ever did. You two have such a deep connection that you can tell what each other are feeling or thinking even if you don’t say anything. It feels that you’ve known him your entire life, even though you met him only three years ago.

There are times when you have strange dreams with him. They are blurry and hard to remember when you wake up, but sometimes, you see him and yourself in situations you’ve never lived before. It gets even stranger when you remember that you and him were wearing old clothing from centuries ago.

When you told your roommate about your dreams - they started barely a week after you first met him - she laughed at said jokingly:

“Maybe you guys met in a past life.”

You know she wasn’t serious. You’ve never been one to believe in things like reincarnation, and you also didn’t think much of it. But the idea of meeting him in the past - the single fact that you may have existed before - was… unsettling.

Especially because you also had many nightmares with him.

Nightmares in which he was taken away from you, and you could do nothing but cry.

Whenever you had one of those nightmares, although you couldn’t remember them clearly, the bad feeling lingered with you during the whole day. This feeling only vanished when you saw him in front of you. He is here. We are together.

Not anymore.

This is being hard to deal with.

You always dreamed with this job. Actually, living abroad was one of the main objectives in your life. This job opportunity is everything you ever wanted. You shouldn’t be feeling sad like this, not now that you achieved your biggest dream.

Soon, when you settle down and start experiencing the life you always wanted, the sadness will fade away. You had a beautiful however short story with Jungkook. You’ll only carry good memories of him. Having a good and healthy relationship to remember is more than most people have, right?

There’s no reason to feel so bad.

You lift your head when you hear the speakers calling all the passengers for your flight. You get up, straighten your clothes and take the tickets. 

The time has come.

You walk to the boarding area, pushing your suitcases with you. This is the beginning of your new life. The new you. 

Each step feels heavy.

Your breathing and your heartbeat echoes on your ears. You can’t really focus in anything around. 

You’re leaving Jungkook.

But Jungkook himself said that you should do what you wanted. He supported your decision. 

You’re leaving Jungkook.

You dream of this career ever since you were a teenager. That’s why you worked so hard up to this day. This is your reward. Many people your age would kill to have this opportunity.

But you’re leaving Jungkook.

You can’t go back now. You have signed your contract. They are waiting for you at-

I will never give up on him.

You stop on your tracks.

I will never rest until we can finally be together.

Time seems to have slowed down.

Why… why did you hear this voice in your head? 

It sounded distant… like one of those blurry dreams. 

You shake your head and start walking again, but slower this time. Your palms are sweaty for some reason. 

It feels as if an invisible force is pulling you back. Something deep within you - something you can’t remember and can’t comprehend - echoes like an alarm. Something you should be aware of, but you can’t figure out what it is, it doesn’t matter how much you try.

A strong feeling of grief. An emptiness. Almost like crying for endless days and nights until you had no tears left to cry. A sadness so deeply rooted that no one would be able to rip out.

A feeling you are familiar with.

Meeting Jungkook was a miracle. Of all the people in this immense world, you came across the one that matches you the most. Many people live their entire lives without meeting someone like this.

And you’re leaving him.

A thought that doesn’t make much sense whispers in your head… nobody, no circumstance, nothing is forbidding your love. Nothing can separate you. For the first time, the Universe isn’t being cruel to you.

The only thing pulling you apart from each other is… yourself.

It’s your choice.

“Ma’am?” you hear a male voice saying. Your sight focuses, and you see the airport security guard looking at you awkwardly, waiting for you to show him your ticket and passport. “Is everything okay?”

The bridge that leads to the plane is right in front of you.

The bridge to your new life.

Not even this war, heaven or hell, not even death will make us part. 

We will be together. I swear.

“I can’t.” you whisper. The security guard frowns.

“Excuse me?”

“I-I can’t.” Adrenaline starts to boil your blood. “I need to leave. I need to go back.”

The other passengers look at you with confusion as you walk away from the line. Then you’re running. The suitcases shake with your violent and ungainly run, but you couldn’t care less. You need to leave this airport. You need to meet him. The taxi driver looks scared when you yell, asking for his help to shove the carriers inside of his car. Still, you don’t care about how crazy you look or how people are looking at you.

All you can think of is Jungkook’s galaxy eyes looking at you as if you meant the world to him. 

He is your world.

You can’t leave your world behind.

You’re sweating and your hands are shaking and you can’t control your breathing when you finally stop in front of his apartment and knock on the door unceremoniously.

Nervousness and adrenaline creeps on your skin; you’re aware that your hair is probably a mess. You don’t know how he will react. You didn’t think of calling him before coming; that’s just how crazy you are.

The door cracks open and you hold your breath.

Jungkook’s eyes widen when he sees you. He’s wearing sleeping clothing and he’s got bed hair, which should mean he was sleeping, but the bags underneath his eyes tells you the opposite. He looks bad - similar to when he would spend entire nights awake studying for finals, only worse.

It looks like he can’t breath, too.

“Y/N,” the way he says your name makes your heart jump. “W-What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving today…” he looks behind you and notices the suitcases, what makes him frown in confusion.

“Yes.” you nod. “I was supposed to leave today.”

“Supposed?” He is so confused. “Did something happen?”

“Yes.” You sigh deeply before speaking. Your blood feels boiling hot; your stomach twirls and jumps. “I went to the airport. I said goodbye to everyone. I was ready to leave.”

Jungkook just watches you in silence. You see when, slowly, his eyes start to light up again as you speak; they light up with… hope.

“B-But then, I stopped and thought that I would never see you again. And… and I don’t think I can take it.” I can’t take it once again, a voice whispers in your mind. “You said that you wish I’d be happy, but I can’t be happy if I’m not with you.”

The tears start trickling down your cheeks. This time, though, they’re tears of joy.

“I love you, Jungkook. And I’m not waiting for another lifetime to be with you.”

Jungkook engulfs you in a tight hug.

You hug him back just as tight; he kisses the top of your head multiple times and you hear him sniffling. Everything feels right and at place. Being with him is the right thing, regardless of what anyone can think.

From far, you have the slight impression that you hear something… the sound of steel chains breaking apart. Your wrists suddenly feel weightless. Almost as if an invisible force finally lets you go.

Free.

Jungkook leans away but still keeps you close; his eyes and nose are reddish and his face is wet with tears. He has the smile you’ve learned to love. You wipe his tears away. He looks gorgeous, as he always was.

“Hm… I bought you something.” He says sheepishly and puts his hand in his back pocket. “I don’t know if you will like it. I also don’t know if it’s the right time… we’re too young, but… that’s just how I feel about you.”

You have to cover your mouth with your hand when Jungkook takes a beautiful ring in his fingers.

“I-I don’t know if you want this too, but I want to give it to you anyway…”

“Of course I want it!”

Jungkook almost falls back when you throw yourself over him again, tightly embracing your arms around his neck. He laughs and lifts you up, and you lock your legs around his waist. 

He takes you inside the apartment. None of you remember about your suitcases outside.

“I am so happy,” Jungkook whispers between the kisses; you feel the happiness radiating from him like a bright light. You only know each other for three years, but it feels as if you’ve been waiting for this moment forever.

Nothing else matters in this moment. Right now, you belong to each other. 

You always did.

Nothing in the Universe can change this fact - not even the past, the present, and the future.

“I love you.” Jungkook says, looking deep inside your teary eyes.

“And I always will.”

[re-diesirae]

10. Claire

Claire staggered, but she did her best to hide it. Her headache had hit her out of sudden, piercing her skull like an ice peak hammered into her brain. The pain made her dizzy, and that made her way through the forest harder.

Despite the discomfort, Claire kept quiet. The last thing she wanted -or needed- was to worry Leon and delay their way even more.

Her will power was strong, but unfortunately, her body would not cooperate. Her legs were weak and shaky, so she was struggling to keep herself on her feet.

Great. What's wrong with you, Claire? I was alright up until now. Why did the headache return?

Claire blamed the hike. She had a decent physical condition, maybe not as good as Leon or Chris, but she could handle the exercise. However, hiking had never been something she liked, and the effort she had to put into climbing the rocky surface was most likely the cause of the return of her headache.

"We should find refuge before the sun goes down completely," Leon said, stopping to look at Claire.

Leon's sudden decision to stop and find refuge took her by surprise. Usually, he would be more into the plan of moving faster and wasting no time trying to rest.

"If you are correct, those monsters will come out as soon as the sun goes down."

Leon had a point.

"Uhm, you are right," Claire sighed.

Claire saw Leon give her an encouraging smile.

"Besides, it's been a long day. We need to rest," Leon said, cleaning the sweat from his forehead. "We are both tired, and we need our strength to fight. Pushing ourselves to the limit is a stupid decision."

Claire rubbed her neck and sighed. When he put it like that, Leon was right. A tired body was not as effective, and in their current predicament, effectiveness and sharpness were everything.

"You're right," she said, "The question is where?"

Claire did not want to admit it, but she was grateful for Leon's decision to call it a day. Her headache was making her nauseous again, and she was not sure of how long she could keep up her facade.

After walking around the cliff for a while, they found a small cave, hidden between some bushes. It was not a five stars hotel room, but it would serve its purpose.

Leon made sure the cave was clear before they finally settled down inside, and Claire watched him pick up some branches and plants and to make a makeshift door to camouflage the entrance. It's a smart move; it might have been useless to keep foes out, but at least it would keep them concealed.

Claire's snorted to herself. The Leon she'd met years before would not have been so thoughtful, but the Leon beside her now was no longer a rookie cop but an experienced agent. His years of service had made him a cunning man.

"So that's what the government teaches their agents? How to make woodland crafts?" Claire asked playfully.

Leon smirked, putting the "door" in its place.

"Sure," he answered in the same playful tone, "It's rule 4 in How to be an agent 101."

Claire laughed as he followed her joke. At least, his sense of humor had not changed. It was a comforting thought.

Suddenly, Claire felt an electric pain hit her, and she rested her head against the cave's wall, hoping that it would pass soon.

"Chris would kill us if he saw us," she whispered.

"Why?"

"Keep yourself focused. No time for jokes," Claire said in a low voice that tried to mimic Chris's grunt.

Leon laughed at the impression, and she smiled. She felt a little guilty for mocking her brother, but Claire knew that Chris would most likely react that way.

"Sounds about right," Leon laughed, "I can't picture Chris joking around in normal circumstances, even less in a mission."

"I keep telling him that sometimes a little humor is what you need to keep yourself going."

"Maybe he needs to learn. You should teach him."

Claire found Leon's suggestion ironic. She teaching Chris how to relax was a crazy idea when the woman was the worst example of relaxation. Family always had its perks, and Claire knew that she was not too different from Chris in many things.

"Uh, I doubt he will be willing to learn from me," Claire chuckled, "but Chris wasn't always like that, you know. He used to be a little more chill."

With their current job, Claire had very few chances to meet her brother. Sometimes she didn't see his face in more than six months, which made the changes in his personality even more noticeable.

"Chill?" Leon said incredulously, "Is that even possible?"

"You are one to talk. Each time I see you, you're grumpier than before," Claire said, resting her chin on her knees.

If there was someone she saw less than her brother, that was Leon. They were good friends since surviving the Raccoon incident created a strong bond between them. That friendship survived distance and time, but the few times Claire had met Leon, she had noticed the change in his character. The friendly and naive rookie had disappeared, and instead, the cool-headed, serious, and quiet agent had taken his place.

Everyone around her seemed to change each time she saw them.

Am I the only one who doesn't seem to change?

Change scares you. Metathesiophobia is a condition, too.

The tiny voice in the back of her mind made her headache stronger, but she ignored it. It wasn't the first time that Claire had monologues with her inner ghosts, but today the phantom voices seemed more active.

"Then, maybe I should ask you to teach me, too," he snorted.

"What are you saying?" Claire said, rolling her eyes. "Sometimes, I feel like I should be more like you two."

Leon shook his head, and Claire wondered what the agent was thinking?

"You are perfect the way you are, Claire. It is enough with one Chris Redfield or me in this world. There's no need to add another one into the equation," he said, "and honestly, the world would be a better place with more people like you."

"If there were more people like me, the world would be chaos," Claire snorted bitterly, "I caused a lot of trouble because of my naiveness."

"It sounds like you are too hard on yourself, Claire."

He doesn't get it, does he?

Would he say the same if he knew all the pain you have caused?

Claire grabbed her head and rubbed her temple. The voices in her head were becoming annoying, and suddenly, her ears filled up with an electric buzzing that messed up with her focus. She looked at Leon and caught him deep in thought, and suddenly, she felt oddly comforted.

"And you guys are just too soft on me," Claire snorted bitterly, "When I think back of all the things I've messed up..."

Claire looked blankly at the wall in front of her. She could feel Leon's gaze in the dark, and she was glad that he couldn't see her. The pain in her head was getting worse, and she feared that the agent would notice it. Luckily for her, Leon's attention was somewhere else.

Leon reached for his gun. The man looked alarmed, and she knew the reason as soon as she heard the distant roar.

Claire recognized it immediately. She had heard the same howls the night before when she had seen the two monsters in town.

She followed Leon to the cave entrance and peeked outside.

Claire held her breath as she watched the disfigured monster eat the smaller ones, and as if the scene wasn't horrible enough, the creature's body began to contort and twist into a more monstrous being.

"What the..." Leon whispered.

Ah, poor thing. It is mutating. Sad, sad.

"It's mutating, I think..." Claire said.

"Mutating?" Leon looked at her, confused.

"Yes, that's how it looks."

"Is it the one you saw yesterday?" he asked.

Claire shook her head.

"No, this one looks different."

Something was wrong about that creature. Claire stared at the blood dripping from the creature's mouth, the tissue falling from its body, and the raw muscle underneath the torn skin. The image made Claire's stomach twist. Considering her background, that was something very odd as she had seen worse things before.

When they saw the monster crawl into the darkness, she was finally able to release the breath that she had been holding. Her heart was beating fast, and she was unsure of why she felt so agitated.

"I think I understand what you meant by bigger friends," Leon whispered."We didn't see anything like it during the day, so either we were lucky, or you are right, and they are nocturnal."

"B.O.W.s that come only during the night. Talk about nightmarish monsters..." Claire sighed, "I am just glad they didn't find us, but I've got the feeling that our luck won't be that good for too long."

"Well, we'll face it when it comes. Don't worry about it," Leon sighed.

They returned to the back of the cave and sat down quietly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Me?" she asked, surprised, "I'm peachy."

Leon looked at her skeptically.

"You can't fool me, Claire. You've been struggling since that climb we did," Leon said, "Is it your head? Is it bothering you again?"

Claire let out a vague snort and shook her head.

"I told you I didn't like hiking," she replied, "I am alright. My head bothers me a little when I am tired, but it's not bad. You should know how concussions work."

Leon's expression was unreadable, but Claire had the odd sensation that the man had not believed him.

"Yeah," Leon sighed, "Try resting a little."

"I had my share of sleep yesterday," Claire said, shaking her head, "You must be exhausted, though. You didn't sleep at all. You should be the one taking a nap."

"I work better with less sleep," he half lied.

Claire glared at him. Leon could be a super agent, but he was still human. Humans needed rest.

"Liar," Claire muttered. "You know you don't need to act all cool with me. Get some sleep, idiot. I'll take the first watch."

"Fine, but only if I can use your lap as a pillow," he joked.

Claire rolled her eyes. Leon could flirt at any moment. That was, probably, what made Leon, well, Leon. She smacked his arm and sighed.

"You are such a flirt, Leon. I guess that side of you has not changed," Claire chuckled. "Go to sleep, idiot."

She heard Leon laugh, and the sound made her feel a little better. If he could still laugh in this situation, things could work out.

Those are only hopes. Things never work out well when it comes to these situations.

"You know, I think you are the only person who dares to call me an idiot."

"Well, if I can call Chris an idiot, I can definitely call you an idiot."

The privilege of calling Chris an idiot was naturally Claire's right as his sister. She had called him all sorts of things in her life, and Chris had always let her.

"Now, I have to argue about that. No one would dare call Chris an idiot, but you have special treatment."

"Do I get special treatment with you?"

"Maybe..." Leon smirked.

"Do you tell all your partners that?"

"Only those who I like. What? Getting bored with paperwork and considering a career as an agent?"

"Nah, I am not agent material. You know that, Leon?"

"What are you talking about?" he chuckled, "You were agent material even before I was. Rushing into Raccoon City in search of Chris and saving Sherry, and taking care of all of us..."

"You sure are sentimental today," Claire snorted. "What's up with you today?"

"Well, this brings back memories," Leon sighed, "Can you blame me?"

"It does?" Claire asked.

"Yeah. I think I kind of missed this."

"Sleeping in a cave surrounded by bloodthirsty parasitic entities and mutant monsters? I can't say I share the sentiment, but who am I to judge?"

Claire waited for Leon to answer, but he did not, so she assumed he had fallen asleep already, and her lips curled into a victorious smirk.

No need to sleep my ass. Of course, you will fall asleep right away.

Leon had let her sleep the whole night before, which meant he had not gotten any sleep at all. One sleepless night, plus the walking and climbing they had done, would be enough to exhaust anyone.

The sudden silence, however, made Claire feel lonely, and she hugged her knees and rested her head against the wall. Some light beams crawled into the cave through the holes of their makeshift door.

It was quiet outside, and Claire felt a shudder crawl down her back. Somewhere out there, there were horrible monsters ready to kill them. Why were some people so fascinated about creating those monsters?

She would never understand the reasoning behind B.O.W.s. The creatures were uncontrollable; they could not distinguish friends from foes. They killed anything in their way, leaving a path of destruction. What kind of weapon was that?

Claire's gaze wandered to the man sitting in front of her. She felt a little guilty for dragging Leon into that pit, but at the same time, she was happy that he was there.

It's your fault. Leon shouldn't be here, but he came because he tried to help you.

Claire shook her head, trying to clear up her mind. She wanted to ignore that little voice, but she knew it was right. Leon wasn't supposed to be there. They had kidnapped her, not him, and he had only ended up there because of her. Another sudden thought crossed her mind, and she bit her lip with worry.

What if Chris and the others were in trouble, too?

Get a hold of yourself, Claire.

"How is it that I always end up in these situations?"

Claire didn't get the chance to reflect on her poor luck. She suddenly felt a cold shiver run down her back, and her head automatically turned to the entrance.

Claire was not sure what had prompted to look, but she suddenly felt very uneasy. She listened carefully, she could hear Leon's soft breathing, but the rest was quiet. No howls, no screams, no animals. Everything seemed tranquil. Then why did she feel alarmed?

Her ears soon caught a sound that she hadn't noticed until then. It was a low distant whistle. The sound was soft and hypnotic, almost as if it was calling at her. Without realizing it, she had gotten on her feet and started to walk to the entrance, but before she had reached the entry, she snapped back to reality.

Claire stood there looking confusedly at the complicated net of branches and leaves that Leon had knitted earlier.

What am I doing? she thought.

Unable to explain how she had suddenly appeared standing in front of the entrance, Claire was about to return to her spot at the end of the cave, but before she had even given a step, she heard the loud crack of breaking stone. Suddenly, she felt her body get pulled outside with a violent force. Her body crashed against the cave's door as she got pulled through it, and the branches managed to scratch the patches on naked skin unprotected by clothing, leaving red marks over her milkfish skin. The woman rolled a few feet over the grass before stopping when her back hit a tree painfully.

Claire groaned. She looked up, trying to understand what had happened when she saw the last thing she wanted to see. Her eyes went wide in horror. She reached for the rifle hanging on her back, and without thinking twice, she aimed and shot.

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