#cutting it all off every couple months is the most efficient way to deal with it

[fishy-lava]

i keep deciding i want to grow out my hair again because i miss braiding it but every time ive tried i just get frustrated with it and shave my head again because hair is a sensory nightmare and i have so little patience for it

[dr3amofagame]

as of yet unnamed ghost!dream au

here’s some of a ghost!dream au that i’ve been working on for the last few days!! it’s been Fun - definitely one of my favorite current aus, along w/ vegas team 2.0 and others. it’s a really ,, bittersweet c!sam + c!dream centric au that’s equal parts fluffy and messed up, and my goal is to (somehow) wrangle this mess into some sort of happy ending 

anyway, i hope you all enjoy!! definitely look out for more of this in the future, and a future name change when i get around to thinking of one that Fits lmao 

tw: blood, violence, implied torture, abuse, description of dead bodies, unhealthy relationships, emotional distress, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief, death, dehumanization

Sam woke up to fifty pounds of fur smacking him in the face.

He startled, stumbled to awareness as he struggled to breathe from the newfound weight on his chest. It took a few moments for his vision to clear up enough to see what was right in front of him, but his lips quirked up in a small smile as Fran sat, self-satisfied, with her paws pressed against his collarbones, looking for all the world like she was priding herself in her win.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." He ran a hand through the fur on her head, got a bark in return. The smile dropped, however, when his brain - still foggy with sleep - began to drag itself into awareness, bringing with it a whole slew of unpleasant memories that largely made him want to crawl back under the covers for another week, please.

Fran barked again, headbutted him insistently, and he pushed away the thoughts with a bleary shake of his head. As much as he wanted to avoid his responsibilities, experience had taught him otherwise, and what was he without his duty, now?

He was halfway through the process of putting on his armor when he realized, hands falling from the straps they had been readjusting, lips pulled into a thin line.

Oh.

Right.

Fran barked again, probably noticing his hesitance, making a point of ramming her head into the backs of his legs again when he stood still for a little too long. Sam stared at his hands for a moment, then another, before going to undo the fastenings of his netherite chestplate and hang it back up on the stand.

He wouldn’t be needing those for a while, would he?

“Hey girl.” He kneeled down to scratch Fran by the ears, smiling softly when she closed her eyes in satisfaction. He usually didn’t have any time to spend with her, not with him needing to check on the prisoner in the morning to make sure he would be ready for Quackity’s visits at noon and his afternoons usually filled with his work at Las Nevadas and on his own bank and keeping the prisoner alive-

Sam breathed out a little too harshly, reaching for the Warden’s communicator he kept tucked in his chest pocket. The same words stared at him in the morning light, clear and damning.

Dream was slain by Quackity using [Warden’s Will].

It had been an accident, in the end. He hadn’t been listening well enough, Quackity’s shouts blending with Dream’s ragged screams making up the same painful two-note song that filled most of his days, when the cell - steadily growing in sound for the past hour, as Quackity (inevitably) became more desperate and the prisoner (inevitably) forwent any attempts at holding back his pain - suddenly went silent.

The quiet itself was enough to raise his hackles, have him reaching for a pearl as he clicked open his communicator; the quiet “Sam?” from Quackity only made them rise more.

By the time he reached the other side, his communicator was already buzzing with the notification he’d known would appear, in the end, and Dream was lying still with a sword shoved through his chest.

---

Sam hadn’t really reacted, when he first realized. He set upon the task of cleaning up the aftermath much the same way as he approached everything nowadays, quick, efficient, and methodical. He sent Quackity away to wash off the worst of the blood, not bothering to follow him across the lava; it’s not like there was any prisoner that could take advantage of the loosened security, anymore. With the winged man gone, he resigned himself to the job of dealing with the remains of the prisoner.

In the heat of the lava, the body hadn’t even cooled yet, the blood flowing from it- him- whatever, still warm to the touch. Sam eased off the cracked remains of the mask, heart momentarily seizing at the sight of the face underneath it; gaunt, pale, and stretched in memories of pain that it could no longer feel, it- he looked anything but peaceful. His eyes were still blown open in fright, bright green eyes long-dulled, a smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones thrown in sharp relief from the paleness of his skin. Even with the scars on every visible inch of skin, he looked- young, like a scared kid, expression tortured even in death, and Sam could feel echoes of horror beating against his skull like a heartbeat. With a slightly shaking hand, he closed Dream’s eyes - the man was dead. It was the least he could do.

He must’ve spent a solid few minutes carefully bandaging each cut and gash, still sluggishly weeping blood - not that it meant anything, with him dead, but it felt - necessary, to at least give him this much dignity after death. He was covered in blood, some of it fresh, most of it not, but after wiping away the worst of it from his skin (his hair and clothes had been a lost cause for a long time), he almost looked- human. It wasn’t a perfect image; he was far, far too still to be anything like the Dream that Sam remembered, and there were more bandages than exposed skin, at this point, skin paper-white against the black of the obsidian floor and the air still thick with the smell of blood, but if he squinted a little he could almost imagine that Dream was only sleeping. That nothing had happened.

Nothing had happened.

Or at least- nobody could know what did happen. Not with Dream’s death meaning that the information of the revival book was lost forever, not when his death would open up a whole can of worms that both he and Quackity would be better off not having to deal with for the rest of time, thank you very much. Keeping it all a secret wouldn’t be that hard, all things considered; he could turn away visitors with the excuse of preventing something like Tommy’s death from happening again, and it’s not like anyone was particularly preoccupied with thinking about the conditions of the prisoner. He and Quackity would have to think of a better excuse in the future, but now wasn’t the time. All he had to do was get Dream’s body out of Pandora and away from people’s prying eyes; everything else could come after.

Picking up Dream took less effort than he expected; even though the man was a dead weight, he hardly seemed to weigh anything in Sam’s arms. Making their way out of the prison was much harder, but with a few well-placed enderpearls and the abuse of quite a few guard mechanisms, they were out under the night sky. It was a clear night: the moon nearly full, the stars bright and twinkling; it was the kind of night that Dream loved, once.

He bit back the thought as soon as it came. Dream was dead and those days were gone. There wasn’t any point of thinking about them, now.

He ended up carrying the man to a patch of forest against the beaches behind the prison, burying him without much fanfare and pulling out a piece of cobble to serve as a shoddy headstone. It was a small and lonely grave in the middle of a woods that no one ever visited, the cobblestone dull and easy to miss. Only Sam would know where it was.

He told himself that he didn’t care as he left, tridenting across the bay towards the community portal so he could finally go home and rest. It didn’t matter; hardly anyone had bothered visiting the man when he was alive. What would change with him dead?

Distantly, thunder rumbled.

---

It was strange, to have nowhere to go, reminded him of the early days when it was just him and Fran exploring and hollowing out the mountain for his base one block of stone at a time. He figured that it was about time that he and Fran went on a proper walk, anyway, and so after a light breakfast they were off - Fran running in front in leaps and bounds, tail a blur as she greeted every tree and rock by the house with the eager overfamiliarity that only a dog could have, Sam staying back and whistling whenever she came a little too close to harassing a fox or chicken or whatever mobs were out in the early morning. Every once in a while, she would run back, shoving her face into his hands as if to check in and say hello, and he would give her a couple assuring pats before she rocketed away again.

He definitely should’ve been doing this more often; a small rock of guilt settled in his gut at the sight of Fran’s clear exhilaration at being outside of the same four walls. Her room was as nice as he could make it - food and water kept in abundance, an assortment of toys scattered all over the floor, her bed covered in a collection of blankets she had claimed for her own - but with everything going on, he really hadn’t had the time to bring her on long walks and play with her as he should have. She looked happier than she’d been in months.

He looked up; Fran was in the process of running back towards him, again, and he opened his arms in anticipation of a flying ball of fur smacking him in the chest once more, when she froze. Paws digging into the grass, her head cocked to the side as her ears swiveled, pointed up and alert at some sound that Sam couldn’t hear. Her muscles tensed, and he stepped closer, hand reaching forward-

“Fran, don’t-”

Fran darted off into the forest, a white streak disappearing in the underbrush, and Sam muffled a yell as he moved to chase her. Her sprint sent fallen leaves flying up into the air, a trail of dust and destruction following her as she dashed deeper into the trees.

“Fran, get back here, what are you doing, stop running!”

Completely ignoring him, Fran continued to run ahead, turning suddenly to the right and sending Sam scrambling in an attempt to follow. Ducking out of sight past a collection of thickets into what appears to be a sunlit grove in the middle of the forest, she gave a sudden, triumphant-sounding bark.

“Fran, you really can’t be running off like this, girl, I don’t even know where we are-”

He froze.

Fran, bright white in the sunlight, was wagging her tail as she panted, tongue lolling out of her mouth, muzzle seemingly split in a wide grin. Her dark eyes looked up at Sam, bright and intelligent, and she barked again when he looked at her as if to ask him if he was proud of her discovery.

Just behind Fran, translucent in the light, stood a figure. They were short - only coming up to Sam’s waist, if that, and wore an oversized light-green hoodie that reached halfway down their hands and khaki shorts. Their hair seemed windswept, blown around by some nonexistent breeze, defying gravity as it floated in a messy halo around their head; they turned towards him, freckled cheeks immediately breaking out in a blinding smile.

“Sam!”

He watched, numbly, as the kid stumbled forward, tripping on nothing as they crashed into him, arms immediately going to wrap around his legs tightly. They looked up, shoulders shaking with small giggles, mouth open to show a gap-toothed grin - one that was far, far too familiar.

“Dream?”

“Hiya Sam! Didja miss me?” Dream giggled again, still looking up at Sam, and he felt something dark and cold, almost like guilt, rising in his throat as he met his gaze.

Dream’s eyes were pitch black.

[ramurice]

!Spoilers for Flowers from 1970!

I had to do a reading assignment and it could be any book, any kind of book, and genre, etc, etc. I chose Flowers from 1970, you know, that one dreamnotfound story. So if you don't want to read it, but are curious about it here is officially Copy+Paste from my assignment, so read if you want to, I don't care. Major Spoilers to the book, and even if you get all the way through this, I still suggest it.

Introduction/General Book Information

Title: Flowers from 1970

Author: Astronomika on Wattpad

What genre/type of book is it? (Fantasy, humour, science fiction, mystery, biography, non-fiction, etc.)

Flowers from 1970 was a novel made as a gift for two people, Georgenotfound and Dreamwastaken. Though they never had the kind of relationship implied in this novel it is very close to what was shown in streams with their persona's and the two said people don't mind receiving this type of content from fans, simply because they find it funny. It is definitely a fiction novel as one of the most significant objects is an old telephone that connects George and Dream a fifty-year time difference, Dream comes from 1970, while George is from 2020

Main Character

What is the main character’s name?

The main character’s name is George Davidson, a 24-year-old video game coder.

Describe this character (Physical and personality traits):

George Davidson a 24-year-old boy lived in an old house in Florida, as we go along in the story he describes himself as around 5’5(Inference compared to what he says about Clay), he has a long face that is evened out with a sharp jawline, a medium-sized nose, lips full enough that they don’t disappear when he smiles, his hair is a dark brown that is normally cut short but is a little longer at the moment. I did not use the real person for this description, these are pretty close to actual quotes in the book when Clay asks what he looks like. For a Personality he is described as a kind person, due to his job he doesn’t get out much, nor make friends often, When Clay doesn’t call him for a week he starts going out more because he thought that that's what Clay would have wanted him to do.

How can you relate to or identify with the main character?

George in this book has a lot of things that I can somewhat relate to, for George he didn’t have a hard time making friends, rather he doesn’t get out much to meet people. Most of the people he ends up meeting talk to him first. Dream was actually one of his first friendships.

Another Character

Who is another character?

Another character who happens to be another main character is Clay, or Also known as Dream for most of the story(no last name is given).

Describe this character (Physical and personality traits):

Dream is a 21-year-old living in 1970, he works as a baseball coach and lived in the same house as George. George Describes Dream as around 6’0 from a photo sent to him in a time capsule and a green handprint Dream presses into the wall in one of their conversations, The handprint is described as being bigger than Georges by a fair bit so that prompted George into guessing he was tall. Dream has shaggy dirty-blonde hair that sticks out at odd angles, he also has a cat named Patches, though she isn’t described. As stated by both Sapnap and George Dream is cocky and full of himself most of the time, he wants to be nothing like his father who was an abusive alcoholic, though he does get drunk once in the book to deal with his problems to see if his dad's methods actually worked.

Setting

(Where does the story take place? When is the story happening?)

Describe the time and place of the story:

Flowers from 1970 takes place in both 1970 and 2020, the phone connects Dream and George. The house that the story takes place in is located in Florida.

Comments about the setting:

(EX: setting makes story exciting, the setting has an important effect on the main character, the setting is/is not exciting or new, setting increased my knowledge of something):

A quote from the book is a perfect description of the place; “Now you know that once upon a time, in the same room, of the same house, fifty years apart, Clay and George Davidson had loved each other.” The book takes place in the same house at two different times, Dream being the past owner, while George being the future owner. They find out how to communicate with each other by that telephone, and Dream could send George things from the past by affecting small things, like burying a time capsule in the corner of the yard then telling George where it is over the phone, George can unbury it since it’s from the past, the things will be old and musty since it was fifty years since it was buried but it was an efficient way to send things.

Theme

(What did the author want you to experience, feel, or understand through reading this book? A theme can be about specific people and particular situations or about life in general.)

What is or are the topic(s) of the story?

(EX: courage? working hard? doing the right thing? greed? family? The importance of friends? jealousy? love? caring? happiness? sadness?)

The importance of moving on from things. When Dream died He told George that he made sure he couldn’t contact past Dream again, he wanted George to move on from him because no matter how much they loved each other it would never work, Dream cant have his heart in 2020 when it belonged in 1970.

Plot

(The Action/Summary of What Happened in the Story)

Summary of the story:

(In order, list 4 - 6 events that happened in the story. Keep them in order):

Dream tries to call his friend Sapnap about the assassination of the governor of Florida. He ends up contacting George by accident. George tells Dream that he has the wrong number and that the assassination happened 50 years ago and that the next day his right-hand man, Tubbo, was almost killed. They end the call leaving George thinking the guy who called him is an uneducated lunatic.

Dream calls the next day knowing that it's not his friends demanding that George tell him who he knew that Tubbo was almost murdered. George re-explained to him that it happened 50 years prior and everyone knew about it because they learned it in school. Dream finally asked the date, it was June 28, 2020, Dream told George it was June 28, 1970. This is how their friendship started to kick off.

During the second cell phone conversation they realized that the house They were in at the current time was the same one as each other and on the third call Dream wanted to test something to see if he could change current moments, he dipped his hand in line green paint and pressed it against the wall, it showed up on Georges side but it was worn and chipped as the time wore it down, George pressed his hand against it and Dream caught him in the act as a joke.

Dream sent George a time capsule by burying it in the corner of the yard George found (He encounters Wilbur the first time looking at him oddly while writing something in his notepad) it and opened it on Dreams next call, the capsule contained a container of lime green paint(the same Dream used), Pow-Chew(Dream’s favourite Gum), Music cassette, baseball cards, Quartz(Dream sent it to him because it’s his favourite thing and he wanted to give it to his favourite person, finding that it would be wrong to tell that to someone who didn’t even exist yet he told George that he didn’t he’d need it when he was older), and A polaroid of Dream.

George used the line green paint and pressed his own handprint into the wall next to Dream’s.

(THIS IS IMPORTANT!)Dream sent George a packet of Cornelius flower seeds(Georges favourite flowers, since Dream asked), he had gotten jealous of a couple while on the phone with George because unlike them The long-distance relationship between him and George the distance could never be closed.

George plants the flowers after going to the same flower shop that Dream happened to go to, to buy the flowers, he gets help from his neighbour Wilbur(after Wilbur jots down something in a notepad his neighbour helps)and makes a new friend in the process.

Dream asks George what he looks like, since they cant send things from Georges side they draw on the wall, George describes himself and Dream draws if something is wrong George with tell him and Dream will correct it.

(THIS IS IMPORTANT!)Dream forgot to call, Wilbur came over for some company of George with some cider and they had a family meal.

Dream doesn’t call for a week after he realizes he’s in love with George it’s been at least three months since they first started talking, during that week Wilbur’s family has a family emergency doing with the father that came back from London (BEFORE ANY BIG THINGS HAPPEN!) George watches Wilburs son, Tommy.

The night that George is out eating dinner with Wilbur’s family, Dream calls, he plans to tell George how he feels. George needs to take Wilbur’s family to the hospital, The father is getting worse, he seized up.

They get to the hospital. Wilbur's dad wants to see George. “He called you today, you know.” He tells George, he was confused, and it turns out that It was Dream. “You love him don’t you?” George responds with yes. “I just can’t have my heart in 2020, when it belongs in 1970.”

“Take care of those flowers, Wrong Number.” That was the last wish to George before Dream died.

Wilbur visits the next day, he shows Dream’s Journal to George, on the last page there were dates written down, the dates were every time something happened, George unburied time capsule, I forgot to call, etc with every date. In the middle of their visit Dream calls, He confesses, George confesses, they love each other, in the moment of tears, Wilbur Wrestles the phone out of George's hands and cuts the wire. That was what Dream wanted Wilbur to do, he wanted George to move past him.

What did you like about the book? Why? Be specific.

I enjoyed everything about this book, the writing style was amazing, the characters were amazing. George’s description of himself to Dream was honestly believable, something someone would say.

What didn’t you like about the book? Why? Be specific.

The ending was probably the one thing I really disliked, I liked it but it was sad, I was a mess after I read that ending, both George and Dream knew that in Georges time Dream would be in his seventies but why did he have to die?

Was the story believable or was it confusing and/or hard to believe? Explain Why?/How?

Flowers from 1970 is a very believable story, though it was fiction everything was explained as if you were in the story, you could picture everything, you could picture Tommy and his mixed cereals, you could Picture George on his bed waiting for Dream to call him, you could picture Dream smirk as he harassed George for holding handing with the handprint on the wall.

Explain what you thought of the ending …(good, bad, exciting, confusing, frustrating, etc)…and why.

Ending amazing, but so sad, the quote that made my tears fall even more was when Wilbur cut the phone cord; “I saw my friend die twice, both versions of him.” This is from George.

Overall Rating (0 to 10 stars):

10/10 stars

Would you recommend this book to others? Why?

I would recommend it to anyone, even people who aren’t big fans of the Youtubers this book was made for, it has a plot that is followed all the way through, it really goes for readers emotions, and from what I’ve seen everybody who has read this book has shed some tears. I think it would do good if it ever got published to paperback.

Extra quote!: “Right Person, Wrong Time.”

[sharkfish]

love ‘em, can’t live without ‘em: early-career writers!

[masterpost of rec lists]

new content creators are the lifeblood of fandom, so here i present stories by folks who have five or less destiel fics published (...so far) as of december 2020!!! 

please give them some love!!! 

under the cut since it got long~ 

the burden of belonging by Newtondale @soft-klaus (8k)

Dean doesn't know where he's going, he just drives.

He meanders. Takes whatever road he wants without worrying about efficiency or speed. He watches the landscape change around him as he heads east, towards the sea. Sometimes he listens to music, and sometimes he doesn’t. Most of the time he just thinks, the way he has always thought best; with an open road ahead and horror close behind.

Cas always comes back to him. Cas has always come back. Whether it takes minutes, or weeks, or months - Cas comes back to him.

But Cas hasn’t come back. How much longer is supposed to wait? Minutes? Months? How long is he supposed to live like this, like there’s nothing else that matters except the space beside him where Cas should be?

So he just drives.

Dean Winchester’s 12-Step Guide to Inebriated Online Retail Therapy for Fallen Angels and Judgemental Brothers With Bad Hair (Suck It, Sammy) by justholdingstill @justholdingstill   (3k) 

Alternatively titled Dean Wayne: The Life & Legend

Dean gets drunk. Dean orders things online. Hilarity ensues.

Hang-Ups by anupalya @anupalya (2k)

A slip of the tongue while hanging up a zoom meeting with Castiel leaves Dean in a panic.

****

Jsksdjdjskal

I'm starting to think you're letting Blueberry walk over your keyboard again.

i'm moving to Thailand

?????

I have to

Dean

I have no choice

... so I take it the meeting went well?

dream root & fumbling through the darkness by visionsofyerface @omnishamblegreg (1.3k)

Dean takes dream root for some fun angsty wanderings into Cas’s head, and then actually goes to the Empty, but Cas doesn't believe it's really him.

How Long? by MinxyOne93 @substitutesalt93 (WIP - 37k)

Dean has been going on reckless hunts by himself. Cas confronts him and all those years of unresolved pining come to a boiling point.

_

"Dean. How long?" The angel said, still quiet but so raw with emotion, eyes still wide with shock.

Dean looked down at the floor and sighed. "Since... always. I knew it for sure in Purgatory. But always." He then added in a near whisper, tears threatening to spill from behind his now closed eyelids, "I'm sorry, Cas."

"Sorry? You're sorry?" Castiel felt dumbfounded. The constant loneliness and longing he had sensed from Dean that seemed to grow worse and worse with the passing of years made so much more sense now.

"Dean," was all Cas could say before releasing his grip on his collar and gently, slowly, deliberately, kissing the corner of his mouth. A shocked gasp left Dean’s mouth of its own accord and he melted into Castiel's tight embrace.

It's The Thought That Counts by oceaxe @oceaxe-ifdawn (3k)

It’s Dean’s birthday and while angels have no birthdays, Castiel has a) been around human cultures for long enough to be aware of the nearly universal customs of celebrating the anniversary of a loved one’s birth and b) has been living with humans for long enough that he’s been included in some of those celebrations. But the art of gift-giving continues to elude his comprehension.

Lucky Winner by natmoose @natmoose (32k)

Dean wins a trip to Paris. In and of itself, that’s an amazing thing, but the problem is: he isn’t in a relationship with Lisa anymore, and the trip requires a romantic partner. The obvious choice is Cas, his roommate and best friend of 3 years, but coming with that are some very very complicated feelings and things Dean absolutely doesn’t want to deal with.

But Dean isn’t selfish and also really wants to give his overworked best friend a well deserved holiday, so the only and best solution is to take Cas to Paris, romantic theme be damned. What Dean doesn’t know is that their whole trip will be documented by a photographer from the company - so to avoid their vacation being cut short, Dean and Cas will have to convincingly play a couple.

Once Upon a Falling Star by GrandestBlood @grumpy-mccat (WIP - 3k) 

Alternate outcome for season 5's Endverse where Castiel never lost his grace but he was tricked to retreat back to heaven with the other angels, leaving Dean behind in the refugee camp.

Prompt for this was: The world has ended 500 years ago. You finally went back to Earth and discovered a voice message. You learn a shocking secret about 500 years ago.

Sending A Message by ivebeenpossessedbysatan @ivebeenpossessedbysatan (WIP - 15k)

Castiel Novak didn't expect to be kidnapped. Sure, he'd seen it happen before, but that was all in movies. Just because his mother had married into money didn't mean that someone was actually going to kidnap him and try to ransom him for money.

Only apparently it did, because here he was, tied to a chair in the corner of the most cliché warehouse he'd ever seen.

Why was this is life?

so leave me // at the roadside by LinkInThePark @saminzat (3k)

”This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone out on his own at all, but he was tired of sitting around in the bunker, where the walls seemed to close in on him and the halls were too empty at the same time. Where everything reminded him of what had happened, of the battles they had fought and the people they had lost.

Of the words left unsaid.”

Dean is taking the Impala on a ride, trying to escape everything that's happened... And, in the process, is finally forced to confront his grief. 15x19 coda.

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, but Words Might Get Me Laid by Mrs King of Hell (Slytherkins) @slytherkins (3k)

When Dean's name calling goes too far, Castiel decides to teach him a lesson in manners.

"Take a Sad Song and Make it Better" by Shishquah_CustardTree @shishquahcustardtree (WIP - 27k) 

After being bought and abused by Alistair for many years, Dean Winchester finally gets another chance at life and love by the means of a car crash and a bullet.

The One (1) Time Dean Winchester Tried Something New by archangelgabe @3dg310rdsupreme (2k)

What fun is a relationship that doesn't start with the gross misunderstanding that your crush is hitting on your kid brother?

The one where they get heaven-married by mercurialkitty @mercurialkitty (1.3k)

First a quick chat with Sam in the Impala, then it's off to find Cas.

A finale fix-it where Dean and Cas get heaven-married

There'll Be Peace When You Are Done by diaryofageekgirl @diaryofageekgirl  (5k) 

Somehow, in the middle of severing vamp necks in the dead of night in a run-down barn in Ohio, Dean had a revelation.

Or: nothing stays dead on Supernatural.

This is heaven by madbrilliant84 @madbrilliant84 (800)

“Come on dude! Don’t tell me you don’t know what your legs look like! I bet you could crush melons with those.”

Cas seemed incredibly amused by this. “And that’s something that turns you on?”

Dean smiled while biting is bottom lip. He slowly nodded. His playful tone dropped to something more heated.

“Uh huh. First thing I noticed when I saw you sitting on that bar stool.”

You're Not Alone by Wordsintothevoid @deancas-stan (15k)

Dean has an imaginary friend. Sure, that's weird as hell but he doesn't care. Cas has been there to support him during every horrible thing in Dean's short miserable life and he is not giving up Cas. Sure, Dean may also sorta kinda be in love with him. Oops. And it hurts but Dean will keep it platonic. But then Cas leaves. And then Dean breaks.

We’ll All Arrive in Heaven Alive by invisibledrugs @reasonsweweresinging (1k)

The Winchesters are finally dying, and for good.

But that's okay, because Dean knows what - and who - is waiting for him.

last but definitely not least, @uncastiel doesn’t have any fics yet but is taking prompts! 

[itmightbeneb]

Small post-prison Dream drabble

CW: (almost) panic attacks

If this gets a good enough reception, I may do more :)

It was raining, but Dream couldn't stop to appreciate it. Appreciating rain? Dream almost laughed at the idea, but after months of nothing but lava and obsidian, the cold and wet was a nice change of pace. There had been water in the prison, he supposed, but it was warm, heated by the lava all around him, warm and dirty after months of use. The cold was a nice change of pace. And this rain, this clean water, might actually do something to clean the blood of his skin. It was certainly soothing his burns and scars, burns and scars Quackity and Sam would have to pay for.

Dream needed more stuff, he needed diamonds then netherite, he needed enchantments and potions and farms, better food as well, he doubted he could handle another potato, he doubted he could handle much at all for the moment but that was a problem for later him. Bread would sustain him for now, although he did keep a few extra potatoes in his inventory just in case.

The problem was, he had nothing. Well that wasn't entirely true, he had some bread, a handful of potatoes and a freedom he hadn't had in months, but other than that, nothing. Not even a wooden pickaxe to his name and the entire server wanting him dead. Well then, better a wooden pickaxe than nothing, he thought. He had to start somewhere.

Breaking down a tree was more difficult than he remembered, or maybe he was just remembering what it was like with an efficiency V netherite axe. He might be weaker now, he might be more vulnerable, did the prison affect his muscles that much? He'd still managed to kill Tommy so he can't have wasted away too much, but then why was this stone taking so long to mine? He didn't have the weakness effect from the elder guardians anymore, but he wondered if the months of constant weakness had affected his muscles. Well that was just another thing on the to-do list, get stronger again. Maybe strength potions would work, but for that he'd have to go to the nether. He was a long way off being prepared for that.

After getting a stone pickaxe and axe, Dream wondered if caving or strip mining would be better. He didn't want to be in any cramped space if he could avoid it, but in order to get armour and weapons, in order to protect himself, he'd have to go in. Both had their benefits and downsides. Strip mining was more cramped, darker, closer to being like the prison he had only just escaped. But, if he was weaker after his stay there, it offered fewer mobs to deal with. Less chance to die right after he made it out. He couldn't die now, not after everything that had happened, not after he finally made it out. He had to get his revenge on Sam and Quackity, and that meant staying alive, getting gear, getting stronger. Punz as well, Punz had betrayed him. Went to Tommy and Tubbo and Sam to put him away. He'd cut ties with Punz though, he was on the list, just further down. No, it was Sam and Quackity that needed to pay the most. That meant going underground where there was no daylight and lava around any corner. So, strip mining it was then, less chance of dying was always a good decision. Plus, Dream thought, he couldn't let a stupid fear stop him from going where he pleased. He wasn't Tommy, getting scared whenever he was near a plains biome, he was Dream, a god, someone who had survived worse that a stupid obsidian box. And he was going to make them pay for putting him there.

He dug down to Y=11, finding some coal and iron on the way down. This was good, this was normal, he ignored the tightness in his chest. Although, it was eased by the chill air. He didn't know he could miss the cold, but here he was, feeling nostalgia over a temperature. A temperature, he quickly realised that he couldn't handle as well as he used to. Spending so much time next to a sea of lava, in the sweltering heat, had changed the way his body handled temperature, it seemed. He quickly made a torch and held it in his off hand. Fire would warm him up, enough that he didn't die at least. The furnaces smelting iron also helped warm him up. He made sure to note that wherever he ended up staying better be well insulated. He couldn't go for a desert though, the heat would be welcome but he wanted rain. Maybe a jungle? They were tricky to navigate which would help deter people from finding him. Warm, but not the heat of lava, wet, tricky to find. Perfect.

Enough iron had been smelted to make a pickaxe and a bucket. A good start. Strip mining had never been Dreams favourite, he got bored easily and, unless he managed to hyperfocus on the task, could never pay attention long enough to find anything. However today was different, while he did find himself getting bored and wanting to change tasks, he managed to force himself to continue mining, placing torches periodically to prevent spawns. The tightness in his chest eased a little at the moment.

Eventually he had enough iron for armour. It wouldn't be as strong as the netherite he was used to, the netherite he needed if he were to survive an encounter with another player, but it was better than nothing. Hadn't Technoblade beaten Quackity while only wearing iron armour? Although that was Quackity, Dream would need better armour to survive an encounter with a competent player.

Dream spotted diamonds, the last few he'd need for a full set of armour and tools. There was a problem though, they were across a large lava lake. He could already feel the heat, humid and heavy just like in the cell. The cell he'd only just escaped from. He could do this though, just bridge across the lava, grab the diamonds and head out. He'd need to deal with more lava in the nether anyway, this was nothing. This couldn't harm him. It just simply couldn't.

Dream shifted, edging across the lake. Slowly. He was usually so fast, it must have been the effects of the elder guardians, he told himself, his weakened muscles from the elder guardians, that must be it. Heat rose up to meet him, making him sweat under his heavy armour. His armour was so heavy, his muscles were weaker but were his bones as well? How long had it been since he had seen sunlight? There had been a small amount of time today, before he went mining, and it had been blinding. Too bright and yet not enough at the same time. He wanted to just lay in the sunshine with grass beneath his fingers forever. He had to bring his vitamin D levels up again. He wondered how many vitamins he was deficient in now, thanks to Sam. His body was wrecked and it was all Sam's fault, and Tommy's and Tubbo's as well.

The sound of the lava though, was what almost got him. It bubbled and popped rhythmically, always the same. In the cell there had been exactly three sounds: the elder guardians coming to weaken him, the constant ticking of the clock striking its way into his brain, and the bubble and pop of the lava preventing him from getting out. He knew every small sound lava could make, down to the smallest detail, and it was here again now. Except this time he had blocks and air above the lava. And, he realised while quickly unshifting and looking through his inventory, a water bucket. The hissing of obsidian being made was music to his ears, gone was the sound, almost. There was still a layer under the obsidian that was still quietly bubbling away, but the sound was obscured. Dream looked at the obsidian, that tightness in his chest was back. He ignored it, he had exclusively walked on obsidian for the last few months, he could do this again. He did. He walked, slowly, almost too slowly, over to the diamonds and mined them up. It was an eight vein, more than enough to complete everything. A couple diamonds to spare would always help anyway.

Next came enchantments, or the nether. He should probably check what he had in his ender chest, it had been so long he had almost forgotten anything that was in there, but the only ones he knew of were by where people lived (for obvious reasons) and he didn't exactly want to go there. So, he figured, off to the nether it was. Blaze powder and pearls were what he needed. Unenchanted diamond armour, he was prepared enough, he was over prepared if anything. Unless he found a player.Dream quickly found another lava pool, better to make a new portal than risk being found in a known one. The lava raised the same reaction as last time, but he needed it this time, he couldn't get rid of it. Well he could, he had a diamond pickaxe, but that was slow. Dream wasn't exactly known for being slow. He placed a block in the lava and the water next to it, steam came up to meet him as obsidian was formed. Breaking the block he placed caused more steam and more obsidian, but the base of the portal was complete. He made an upside down L shape with some cobble, placing water at the top. Now it was time to pick up the lava. Why couldn't he pick up the lava? He used to throw himself into lava for fun and how his stupid brain was saying he couldn't handle it through a bucket? Dream's breathing quickened, this was bad. He picked the water back up and made the rest of the lake into obsidian. The diamond pick would be useful after all. He told himself it was because he needed extra obsidian for an ender chest.

The purple spirals of the portal stared at Dream. He needed to go through. He needed to go through and find a fortress, not die, not have a panic attack, and get out. The first three points would be easy, the last? He had held it off so far, he could continue to do so. Until he was the most powerful person on the server again, he would not allow himself to rest enough for his brain to catch up on what happened. When he was safe, when he was feared, he could allow himself to examine his mental health, make it stronger again. He couldn't be seen as weak, they'd kill him, or put him back in the prison. He couldn't be weak. Dream stepped through the portal.

There were a few signs of life, but it didn't seem like he was in a well trafficked area. Not the best spawn, but he could work with it for now. He sneaked constantly, on the off chance someone else was around. The heat if the nether reminded him of the cell. At least there wasn't much obsidian around. He had spawned in a warped forest, so he quickly dug into the wall a little and stared at an enderman. He was too far for it to reach him, but he could reach it. It dropped a pearl. One half down, now he just needed to find a fortress. He added angry endermen to the list of sounds he wasn't sure why he missed, but did nonetheless.

The endermen reminded him of a certain hybrid waiting back in the overworld. He'd have to get into contact with Ranboo again.

He had never minded the heat of the nether before, but now it suffocated him. He longed for the wind, even the stale but cold air from caves, but he had to press on. He told himself the humidity, or the heat, was the reason he had difficulty breathing.

Eventually, Dream found a fortress. The blaze spawner was pretty easy to find as well. Finally, luck had decided to give him a break. The first blaze he killed didn't drop a rod, but the second one did. Blocking himself away, he pulled out a crafting table. The blaze rod got turned into power, then combined with the pearl to make an eye of ender. Finally, Dream surrounded the eye in obsidian, creating an ender chest.They have off a faint glow. Being boxed into the wall with netherack all around, the ender chest was Dream's only source of light. He had missed the darkness, the lava had always illuminated his cell, giving off a bright orange light that he couldn't escape. The chest was different though, softer, easier on the eyes.

Dream opened his ender chest. He found his spare set of netherite armour, not fully enchanted but he could make it work for now, he'd get books in a bit to make it stronger. He'd have to be stronger this time. This could never happen again. There was also a bunch of netherite, he'd upgrade his tools in a bit, once he was out of the nether. And, of course, there was his trident, his riptide III trident. Some small voice inside him hoped it was still raining when he got back to the surface.

He had God apples now. How appropriate, he thought, that the man who can bring back the dead, a walking god, get access again to his God apples.Dream ditched the diamond armour and tools, and pulled on the netherite. Nightmare. He still needed to train, get his strength back, brew potions. But he was back, and the people who threw him into the obsidian prison were going to pay.

He made his way back to the portal, back to the overworld. He had to admit to himself, however much he hated to do so, that he now hated the nether. It was too hot, too much lava, the bubble and pop sounding over and over and over just like in the prison, the stupid obsidian box. He'd use the overworld for travel when he could. But, he thought to himself, he couldn't show weakness to others, they couldn't know how they'd managed to infect his mind, he would travel via the nether when with others. If he ever was with others. Was there anyone left that didn't hate him? That hadn't left him? Dream pushed those thoughts aside, forced himself to climb back to the surface. The cold air of the caves was a relief from the nether, but it was the rain he was seeking.

Dream hopped onto the grass and just stood there for a few seconds, letting the cold soothing rain hit his face. He'd get too cold soon, he knew that his body's ability to regulate temperature was ruined by living next to lava for- how long was it? Dream didn't know, doubted he ever would for certain.He had a riptide trident, a water bucket, and feather falling netherite boots. Dream smiled, genuinely smiled for the first time in a long long while. Pulling out his trident, he pushed himself into the air. Wind and rain whipped his face, he didn't know he could miss this. Dream flew through the air, he was finally free.

Now time to grind, then hunt down Sam.

[smileyjaeminies]

What if there was something more?

Synopsis: A trip with your friends is enough to tip the balance you had between friendship and love. How will you cope with spending every waking moment with someone you’ve been smitten over for years?

Word Count: 9,1 k

Genre: friends to lovers’ au!, angst

Warnings: fighting, cursing, drinking, extreme sports (cliff diving, bungee jumping)

Member: Jungkook, ft. Taehyung and Jennie of BlackPink

A/N: This work was commissioned by a very special person. You walked into my life only recently, and yet I feel like I’ve known you forever. Let’s meet a lot and stay for a long time. Thank you for requesting, I really hope I did your vision justice.

    A small breeze played with your hair as your suitcase rattled behind you. A laugh bubbled from your lips to the sound of Jennie and Jungkook complaining about one thing or the other, your eyes feasting in the beautiful scenery. Did you just call an airport beautiful? Maybe.

  You were elated, finally arrived after a long plane ride to one of your favourite cities in the world: Venice. You were giddy with excitement, ready to explore the city and uncover its secrets with your three best friends.

  “We need to find the bus stop for bus 13” Taehyung announced, juggling a map and a trip advisor in his hands.

  You all looked around, trying to find the correct stop when Jennie announced, “There! Over there!”

  Not waiting for your confirmation, she led the way, stopping only when you arrived at the stop.

  “10 minutes. Great!” Taehyung said as you all settled down.

  You half sat on your suitcase, trying to be patient until the bus arrived. The task was a hard one, for your insides were screaming at the bus to be quick and your leg was bouncing up and down in anticipation.

  “Not a fan of waiting are we?” Jungkook joked, pulling you away from your thoughts.

  “You’re one to talk!” you snapped back.

  The boy threw his head back with laughter, clearly not able to answer back. Indeed, Jungkook was one of the most impatient people you knew. He liked things done his way, quickly and efficiently. He had taken things ‘to fix’ out of your hands more times that you cared to count, from helping you re-decorate your room, to opening beer and water bottles for you.

  “That’s my girl.” He said, messing with your hair.

  You struggled in dismay, calling out for Taehyung’s help. He was quick to come to your rescue, pushing Jungkook off of you and leisurely dropping his arm around your shoulders.

  “I need you all to behave. Jennie, this goes to you to!” Taehyung said sternly.

  “Hey, don’t drag me into their shit! I barely did a thing! Come to think of it, who died to make you leader?” she asked.

  “All the planning me and Y/N did! You both were really no help at all!” Taehyung said, exasperated, pointing an accusing finger to both your friends.

  “Hey, that’s not fair, I was there, I helped!” Jennie said.

  You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you, so you had to answer Jennie’s glare with an apologetic look.

  “Jen, you know I love you but the only thing you did that night was eat our stock of chips and salsa and drink soju. Hardly much help” you said, breaking into another fit of laughter.

  This time, the rest of your group joined you, Jungkook even giving Jennie a playful shove.

  “Okay, okay, I admit defeat. And I will behave as long as you all do!” she agreed.

  “Deal!” you said, placing your hand in the middle.

  Your friends soon followed suit, your hands placed one over the other.

  “To a great trip, with great company” Jungkook said.

  The smile on your face grew even more as you broke away, the bus you were waiting for finally arriving. After getting your tickets and taking care of your suitcases, you made yourself comfortable in a narrow seat next to Jennie, who immediately announced she was going to take a nap. She was now laying on top of you as you listened to some music and watched the scenery come and go from outside your window.

  The boys were sleeping too and the bus ride was peaceful, giving you some time to calm your nerves and think. You buried the thought of this being your last one deep in the back of your head. Yes, uni was over, all of you graduated and ready to start ‘real lives’. But that didn’t mean a thing. Right?  

  Soon enough, you realized you were only a few stops away from your destination, so you began waking the others up. Jennie was awake after a little shake and Jungkook was only half asleep in the first place. It took all of your efforts combined to wake Taehyung up, just in time for you to get off the bus.

  Once again, you found yourself with your suitcase in your hand, but this time you were walking through the narrow passages of a city you had been enamored with for years. If you were being honest, you hardly expected your friends to follow you to this trip, but you were glad that they did.

  Taehyung was still acting as your guide, maneuvering through the streets with ease. You followed him blindly, your attention entirely on the beautiful architecture and the busy streets.

  “And if we turn here…” you heard him mumble, followed by a scream that sounded like ‘eureka’

  “We’re here, my little troublemakers!” he announced, leading you to a two-story house.

  “You rented a house?” Jungkook asked, confused.

  “Technically, it’s an Airbnb.” You informed him.

  You knocked on the door, as the house owner should be expecting you inside. Soon enough, a man in his early forties emerged from the inside of the house.

  “Ah, you must be Kim Taehyung” he said, looking at Jungkook who was standing next to you.

  You suppressed a laugh as Jungkook pointed to Taehyung who was standing a little further back.

  “That would be me, sir” he said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry for assuming. Nevertheless, come in, come in, make yourself at home!” he said, almost pushing you inside the house.

  “I am Francesco, and I’m going to leave for you here, keys and my phone number. Call me anytime, for anything, from directions, to restaurant recommendations, to the sink breaking!” he said.

  “Is the sink very likely to break?” Jungkook joked.

  “No, my boy, not at all” his face falling, his hands hanging on his sides in an awkward manner.

  “I was merely joking sir, I’m sorry if I offended you” Jungkook rushed to explain.

  The man seemed to calm down then, regaining his smile as he waved a hand in Jungkook’s direction, his words already forgotten.

  “Please kids, call me Francesco. And let me give you a quick tour of the house while we’re at it!” he urged you on.

  True to his word, he gave you a full tour of the house, even showing you a small nook that worked as a garden. You talked a bit about your plans, and Francesco was very excited to hear about them, even taking a look at your map and giving you advice about which buses to use.

  At this point, you, Tae and Francesco were alone, the other two tucked away in their rooms. Soon enough, he took his leave giving you some recommendations for restaurants and disappearing inside a yellow Fiat.

  You closed the door behind you as Taehyung entered the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. He looked at you over his glass as you took a seat spreading the map in front of you.

  “That was some amount of information, huh?” you asked.

  Tae only chuckled, settling down next to you. He glanced at the map, only to set it aside a minute later.

  “We need to get to a convenience store to get some things for our breakfast. Or we just skip breakfasts altogether and eat brunch every day.” He said.

  Another round of planning later, the plan for the following days was crystal clear. You had moved to the couch, Tae’s head laying on your lap as you watched Italian television without subtitles, merely guessing at what was said. Jennie joined you at some point, looking refreshed after a shower. She took the armchair, letting her long legs dangle on its side as she scrolled through her phone.

  A couple of hours passed like that, which made you wonder where Jungkook was. Too curious not to take a look, you left the living room, taking the steps two at a time to reach what would become Jungkook and Taehyung’s shared room. You knocked softly on the door, pushing it open when you heard no sound come from inside.

  Jungkook was sat at a small desk his laptop opened in front of him, his hands typing furiously across the keyboard. Your face fell, your heart dropping inside your chest at the sight.

  “Kook. We said no work on the trip” you said, your voice small.

  He turned to look at you like a deer at headlights, his hands dropping flat on the desk. He was caught at the act and there was no escaping it.

  “You promised.” You said again.

  “It’s just… Just a few emails I swear, nothing else, I just didn’t want them to pile up-” he was saying, but you’d heard enough.

  You shook your head, leaving the room without bothering closing the door. You rushed to hide inside your own room, catching a glance of Jungkook coming behind you and slamming the door. You sat on your bed, your chest moving rapidly as you tried to get your thoughts in order.

  Jungkook had become somewhat of a workaholic in the last few months. You knew his job was really important to him, even more important that after graduation, he was promised a promotion. You were proud of him of course, happy he had achieved his goals. But it all came with a price.

  He had become withdrawn, standoffish, his texts getting shorter and shorter. He barely had time for any of you, your hangouts getting scarce and even Taehyung who he lived with, only saw him for a few minutes at a time. There was always something to do or something going on, somewhere to be or a deadline to meet.

  It took every bit of effort from all of you to convince him to come to the trip with a single condition. No. Work. Yet there he was, hiding in his room and answering emails on the very first day. Was it that hard for him to have some time for you?

  Your train of thought was cut short as you felt weight being placed on the small bed. You kept your eyes closed, knowing who it was by the soft smell of mint that graced the air.

  “I’m sorry” he said, keeping his voice low.

  You gave no reply, hoping that ignoring him would send your message loud and clear: you were disappointed. He settled in the silence, lying next to you without really touching you.

  “Y/N, please. I said I’m sorry” he tried again.

  You were determined to ignore him until he provided with a better explanation. The hand over your head helped you, because you were sure that with one glance at him, you’d break.

  That’s how it always was with Jungkook. A sorry, some puppy dog eyes and a big hug was all it took for your anger to evaporate. But not this time. This time you would prevail.

  “Look, I know I fucked up. Just please, don’t give me the silent treatment. Let’s talk about this.” He said, placing his hand over your arm to bring it away from your face.

  You let him, dropping your hand on your side and looking at him.

  “I want your laptop” you spoke up.

  “My laptop?” he asked, perplexed.

  “Yes. You’re going to give it to me and I’m going to keep it for the rest of the trip.” You stated.

  Jungkook turned to the ceiling and you could almost see the gears inside his head turning.

  “Okay. But we won’t say anything to the others.” He said.

  You gave it some thought, then nodded at his request. You looked at the clock that sat on your bedside table, only to realize it was almost 8 o’clock.

  “Let’s go, it’s dinner time!” you announced, pulling Jungkook off your bed.

---------------------------------------------------------

   Ah... Yes. This is it. You thought as you floated on the water’s surface. How could you describe this feeling? How could you put in words the relaxation and tranquility the sea brought you? You allowed it to do all the work for you, the buoyancy of the water carrying your body and letting it float. Half of your head was still submerged, your ears blocking out all sounds but your breathing. You concentrated on it, your eyes fluttering closed as you felt your muscles releasing the tension they were holding.

  You had spent the last few days exploring the city, visiting museums and galleries, archeological sites and buildings. Jungkook’s laptop was safely hidden in the drawer you kept your lingerie and you hoped he hadn’t looked for it. Today was beach day, a day Jennie made you snuggle in the perfect schedule you and Tae constructed because “you needed relaxation”.

  If you were being honest, she wasn’t exactly wrong. Although your heart leaped every time you explored the city or visited a gallery, your feet ached, getting overworked. So beach day it was, and now you were more grateful to Jennie than you’d ever been.

  You sighed, your mind throwing away needless thoughts as you enjoyed the feeling of the waves running under you, in between your fingers and your toes. You felt your hair float behind you, forming somewhat of a halo around you.

  The relaxation was broken as you heard your name urgently called out. Your eyes flew open, only to shut tightly the next second as a huge weight was pushed on your stomach, dragging you down in the water. Your breath hitched, causing you to shallow some water. Your lungs were burning, your body going on overdrive as you swam to the surface.

  You greedily swallowed breaths of air, coughing and spitting water. A pair of hands were holding you up, as you struggled to compose yourself. You felt dizzy, trying to keep breathing evenly to calm yourself down. When your breathing came back to normal, you realized Jungkook was the one holding you, your own hands safely clasped around his neck. He and Taehyung were laughing, which helped you connect the dots in your head.

  “What the fuck?” you screamed at them.

  “The idiots jumped us!” Jennie screamed, exasperated.

  You pushed Jungkook away from you the best you could, angrily throwing some water in his face. The boys were still laughing when you started swimming towards the shore. You were mad, their little joke causing every breath you took come out labored and your insides to burn.

  You got out of the water, finding the sunbed on which you had left your things and draping your body across it. You fished around your bag, looking for your water. You gulped it down hungrily, which helped ease down the pain inside you and offer you some comfort. Laying back you closed your eyes, trying to control your anger. It was just a joke, right?

  You heard Jennie plop down on the sunbed next to yours, soon followed by the muffled chuckles of the boys. You pondered throwing them an angry glance, but ultimately decided against it. There was no use in pouring oil in the fire.

  “I’m so done” you heard Jennie mumble next to you.

  You agreed with a hum, putting on your sunglasses and trying to forget what happened. The boys settled down next to you, talking animatedly between themselves as you and Jennie soaked up the sun.

  Minutes passed and you were suddenly aware that someone was blocking the sun. You opened your eyes, turning to find the culprit only to realize it was Jungkook.

  “Can I help you?” you asked with an attitude.

  He took a seat on the sand next to you, his face obnoxiously close to yours as he studied you without speaking.

  “You’re mad” he stated.

  You scoffed, turning on your back and burying your head between your arms.

  “Hey” he said, pulling at your arm for your eyes to meet his. “I’m sorry”

  You suppressed the urge to laugh at his face. He was awfully sorry these days, wasn’t he? At the same time, you decided to let your anger go. This was your last chance, your last trip, few stolen days before you had to return what had become your realities.

  “Whatever” you said with a smile. “You’re blocking the sun, Jeon. Get out”

  Jungkook graced you with a toothy grin before pulling you on your feet. With one swift movement, you were draped across his shoulders and you were running towards the water. You squealed and struggled against him which didn’t seem to faze him, his strides sure as he flung you into the water.

  This time you were prepared, so you held your breath, your burning body gladly meeting the water. A mischievous grin grew on your lips as you swam to the surface. Jungkook was laughing and you were too, now able to stand in the water. You walked over to him only to find him in a moment of vulnerability, his eyes closed as he laughed. Your movements were quick, pulling him in the water with you, submerging his head and keeping it in.

  At that moment, Taehyung surprised you, pulling you away from Jungkook and throwing you some feet away. You were giggling as you fought playfully, Jennie not taking too long to join in the water fight.

   You were still laughing loudly when you existed the water, completely exhausted.

  “God, my stomach hurts, that was a workout” you whined.

  “That’s because you’re weak” Taehyung joked.

  You gave him a hard shove, which made him stumble on the sand. Another round of laughter found you cleaning up in the beach’s showers as you all piled in the Mini Cooper Jungkook had insisted on renting for the trip.

  Finally back in your little home, you each took turns to properly shower as you and Jennie fought over what to get for dinner. Ready for a night out and about, you decided to ditch the car and walk to a restaurant Jennie had found on Craigslist.

  The night was filled with the sounds of your laughter as the conversation led to all of you reciting stories of your childhood. As you were leaving the restaurant, none of you felt quite ready for the night to be over.

  So, you stumbled across the streets of the city, looking for an establishment fit for the occasion. Soon enough, you came across a decent looking club that wasn’t packed with people. It seemed like the best combination.

  You and Jennie made straight for the small dance floor as the boys brought drinks. Taehyung handed you your drink, twirling you once around yourself for good measure. Talk subsided due to the loud music blasting over your heads but you stuck together, dancing and drinking the night away.

  Ready for another round, you broke away from the group, finding a comfortable seat on the bar and waiting for the bartender to notice you. You were placing your order when you felt someone stand next to you.

  He ordered something in Italian, turning to grace you with a smile. The man seemed to be around your age, tan and, admittedly, very handsome. You returned the smile and he asked you something in Italian.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t speak the language” you told him.

  “No? I could’ve sworn you were born and raised in Milan? Italian blood runs in you, ragazza” he said.

  “Maybe I do have some Italian blood after all! I do love the country, we’ve been here for a couple of days already and I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to leave.” You told him.

  “We, you say. Travelling with family? Or a special someone?” he asked.

  You smiled at his question, clearly aware of his intentions. “Neither. Just friends”

  As if on cue, you saw Jungkook walking up to you. You smiled at him, momentarily not hearing what the man was telling you, your attention on him. His gaze was closed off, his steps sure but urgent as came to stand next to you, one hand circling around your waist in place of a greeting. You felt yourself gravitate to him as you often did, getting comfortable under his arms, the feeling of his chest moving up and down as he breathed, huffs of air fanning your hair relaxing to you.

  “The friend I was telling you about” you said to the man, motioning at Jungkook with your head.

   At that moment, the bartender returned with your drinks. You looked up at Jungkook, who looked as if he was about to start shouting.

  “Kook, you okay?” you asked in a low voice.

  “I will be once we get out of here” he told you.

   You nodded at him, waving a little as a goodbye to the man you chatted with. Instead of joining the others like you expected, Jungkook led you to a corner of the bar. The music was still very loud, but it allowed for some small talk. He pressed himself on you in a way he had never done before and you tried not to think about the goose bumps that raised on your skin.

  “Why him?” he asked.

  “What are you talking about?” you answered with a question of your own.

  “I don’t want you looking at other men like that” he said.

  “You’re being ridiculous” you said, shaking your head and trying to push him off of you.

  You reply didn’t sit well with him, for he pulled you back in your previous position. Your back hit the wall with force, almost knocking the wind out of you. You shot him an incredulous look but his mind was too preoccupied to register it.

  “I don’t want you looking at other men like that” he repeated. “Only me”

  His words made your breath hitch at your throat and you felt like a ton of ice cold water had been thrown over your head. Your eyes shifted between his, as your mind struggled to register his words.  

  “I’ve always, always been here and you…” he said, making your heart leap at your throat.

  “Jungkook, what are you saying?” you said, regaining your voice.

  The music, lights and people were making everything too much for you to process. His eyes were set on yours in a way that showed you he truly meant his words. You were about to speak up, when the words died at your lips.

   “Here you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you” Jennie announced, giving an end to the staring contest between you and Jungkook by pushing him off of you and linking your arm with hers.

  “Tae is just paying the bill. Time to get back!” she said, smiley as ever, leading you to the exit.  

  On your way back, you stuck close to Jennie, letting her do all the talking as you brushed her off as just being tired. Your mind was hazy, your thoughts running wild at the sheer possibility that Jungkook could be…

  Then again, would it be so absurd if Jungkook were in fact in love with you? You were close, closer than you’d been with a boy before and there had been several instances where, if you didn’t know better…

  But did you know any better? All the time you were walking with Jennie, you registered the boys walking a few steps behind you, just out of earshot, talking in hushed voices. You had to gather all your courage to glance back at them. You were met with Taehyung’s moving look, alternating between you and Jungkook. Something seemed to stir in him when he caught you staring, making all his attention turn to the boy next to him as he started talking quickly.

  Well aware of the big plans in store for you the next day, you played your ‘I’m tired’ card once again, hiding under your covers. However, sleep didn’t agree with you as you tossed and turned for hours. At the same time, you were aware that the boys were still downstairs, safely away from hearing distance.

  Your thoughts were running, and every time you felt yourself relax, sleep run away from your grasp once more. Your muscles were tense as your hands came to rub at your face again and again. You tried to get rid of your thoughts, longing for sleep but alas, it stood far out of reach. It was only when you tried timing your breaths in time with Jennie’s some hour in the night that you finally felt yourself drift away into dreamland.

------------------------------------------------------

  A hand was shaking you awake, a voice screaming over your head. Your eyes flew open, only to find Taehyung’s face hovering over yours. Once he realized you were awake, he wasted no time to shower your face with kisses, from your head, to your forehead, your cheeks and your nose.

  You giggled under his ministrations, hearing Jennie gag in the bed next to yours.

  “No matter what you do, you aren’t getting out of this. We’re bungee jumping today, Tae” you told him, your voice still groggy from sleep.

  “How dare you think that I, Kim Taehyung, would even dream of missing this one in a lifetime experience with my best friends??” he asked, throwing a hand over his heart, as if to show how your words hurt him.

  You laughed at his antics, pushing him to the other end of the bed so you could get up.

  “You fear of heights did! Now, coffee!” you announced, pulling on some flip flops and rushing to the kitchen.

  As you entered the room, you felt your smile falter. Your eyes met with his, making you quickly look away, your hands finding solace in the coffee pot as you looked for a mug.

  “Good morning” he said behind your back.

  You mumbled an answer, your heart beating fast, your back still turned to him as you looked for something to eat to mask your awkwardness. You brought the bowl of cereal to the table, screaming telepathically to Jennie to make her way downstairs quickly.

  “Rough night? You look like you didn’t sleep well” Jungkook tried to strike up conversation.

  You decided to let him. It’s not like you’ll be able to hide from him for long.

  “It’s just the way Taehyung woke me up. Once I get my dose of caffeine and I’ll be ready to go!” you said.

  “Oh. I thought…” he said, his voice trailing off.

  “Jungkook? What is it?” you tried to get his attention back to you, for his mind seemed to be elsewhere.

  “I think we need to talk. When we get back from today” he said finally.

  “If Tae doesn’t die on us, sure” you said, trying to joke.

  His expression didn’t falter and you were almost intimidated by the serious look on his face. Your body moved on its own accord, your hands moving to place themselves over his own.

  “Hey. We’re okay. We are going to talk soon” you told him.

  You offered a reassuring squeeze, which seemed to help him snap back. He intertwined his fingers with yours, a small smile growing on his face. After a few moments, he got up.

  “I’m going to get dressed. See you in a few” he said, placing a small peck on the top of your head as he left the room.

  Your heart did summersaults in your chest as you struggled to keep your expression neutral. The smile on your lips was evident however when Jennie entered the room. She didn’t openly question it, only looked at you weird, raising her eyebrows.

  You wrapped up breakfast quickly, keen to be on the road sooner rather than later. You piled in the small car once again, Jennie working as shotgun and, consequently, designated DJ. Your job in the back was to comfort Taehyung, hold his hand and assure him that everything would turn out okay.

  Arrived at your destination, you felt Taehyung stick to your side as Jennie slowly came closer and closer to you. One look was all it took for you to communicate to Jungkook that he needed to check you in while you took care of your friends.

  Taehyung was trembling and Jennie seemed to regret her breakfast as an instructor led you to a side room to help you put on your gear and give you the necessary instructions. When you were all set, you agreed that you’d jump one at a time, Jungkook first, followed by you, Jennie and lastly Taehyung.

 You stepped out to the platform for the first time and you were almost taken aback by how beautiful the scenery was. A small river, (a creek?) was flowing under you as rocks fought to overcome trees, causing the scenery to be mixed.

  “How are you not scared?” Jennie asked you.

  “Who said I’m not? I just really want to do this with you” you told her, emphasizing your words.

  She took in your words, nodding a little as you all gravitated closer to each other. There weren’t a lot of people around, but because it wasn’t your turn yet you didn’t want to be in anyone’s way.

  In front of you was a couple, who was talking with the instructor in a lively way, evidently very excited for their jump. You watched as they hugged each other, the instructor tying them up in the correct position. 3, 2, 1… And they were off, dangling upside down over the valley.

  Two voices sounded at once as your eyes found Jungkook’s. You really thought in the same way, huh. You chuckled, Jungkook answering with one of his toothy grins.

  “Excuse me”, you asked your instructor, “Could it be possible that we do that, after we finish our individual jumps?”

  “Two pairs then?” she asked.

  “No!” all four of you said in unison.

  The instructor laughed at that, weighing you up.

  “Then my guess is you along with the first jumper?” she asked.

  “That would be me, and yes, that’s right” Jungkook said, coming to stand next to you.

  She nodded, taking a quick look at the schedule in her hands.

  “Well, seems like today isn’t too busy, we’ll be able to fit you in.” she told you.

  You jumped in excitement, you and Jungkook high-fiving in victory. You thanked the instructor, only for her to inform you that it was already your turn.

  Jungkook eagerly stepped up, almost bouncing on his feet as the instructor started tying him up to the wires. They exchanged a few words and Jungkook turned to wave at you, even giving you a thumbs up. Your phone ready in hand, you zoomed in his face as he smiled at you before jumping.

  You heard his cries, reaching frequencies you didn’t know he could as you laughed away from the microphone, recording his fall. The wires were raising him back up when you were called to the edge of the platform.

  Nerves started kicking in as you handed the phone to Jennie. You pushed it all away, plastering a huge smile on your lips, disregarding your trembling hands. Your heart was beating at your throat as you half registered the instructor’s words and directions.

  “Smile at your friends and then get ready” he told you.

  You turned around, finding Jungkook had rejoined the others. You waved, mouthing ‘I’m shaking’ to Jennie who just shook her head.

  “Don’t be scared, it’s amazing!” Jungkook urged you on, giving you the courage you needed to turn around.

  “Countdown with me, okay?” the instructor asked and you nodded.

  1, 2, 3. You were flying. Your pose was bad, you were screaming without even realizing, but you were flying, cutting through the air into complete emptiness. Your heart still beat rapidly as they were pulling you up. You enjoyed the view, nature running wild around you.

  Your feet wobbled when they placed you back on the platform. The adrenaline rush was slowly but surely fading and you didn’t know if you had it in you to stand up. Your eyes met with Jennie’s terrified stare, making you get up and walk up to the others, never breaking eye contact with her.

 “You can do it! I know you can! Just jump!” you urged her on.

 Jennie gave on curt nod, before stepping out into the void. She screamed with all her might, cursing at you and Jungkook as she fell, still half screaming as she was pulled up.

  In an instant, your arms were around Taehyung’s neck, whispering soft words of encouragement in his ear. Jungkook was softly massaging his shoulders, throwing his own two cents in and urging him on. He reluctantly walked over to the edge of the platform, talked to the instructor, watching closely as every piece of wire was being attached to his body.

  “This is safe right? I can do this?” you heard him ask.

  “Tae, you’ve got this!” Jungkook urged him on from beside you.

  Jennie joined you, whispering how much she hated you, but still offering her support to Taehyung.

  “We’re a set deal, Tae! If I did it, you can do it!”

  The countdown was quick and Taehyung was screaming to the top of his lungs. You laughed at his fall, still screaming and babbling all the way down. You were ready to collapse on the bench, when Jungkook took hold of your hand.

  “You ready for round two?” he asked, eyebrows moving up and down.

  “Oh my god, yes!” you almost screamed, repressing the need to jump up and down.

  You were called onto the edge, given a set of new instructions as you were told to hug Jungkook tightly at the waist as he did the same, your eyes barely able to look over his shoulder, his head resting easily on yours. When you were all tied up, all that was left for you was the countdown.

 1, 2, 3… And you were flying again. You screamed in Jungkook’s ear as he did the same to you, holding him tighter and tighter. You barely had time to look at the scenery, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling borderline terrified. He whispered soothing words in your ear, kissing the side of your head and telling you how good a job you’d managed.

  Safely set on the platform, you felt a few tears escape your eyes as Jungkook held you. You wiped away your tears, laughing softly at your random reaction.

 “I’m just so happy” you whispered, only for him to hear.

  He patted your head, running a hand softly through your hair.

  “You make me so happy, Y/N, you really do. Thank you for doing this with me.” He whispered in your ear.

  You just then realized how close you were. With one small motion, your lips would be on his. Your noses were brushing as you tried to control your breathing, stopping your tears for good.

  “Let’s go back to the others, okay?” Jungkook asked.

  You nodded and he was quick to help you to your feet, guiding you to the others. Your arms wrapped around Taehyung’s torso as you gushed over how brave he’d been. Somehow, the hug turned to a group hug, as Jennie snuggled to your side, Jungkook on her other side.

  Your heart felt like it couldn’t take any more, such a roller coaster of emotions and so much happiness seeming unreal to you. You savored it, hoping your heart could remain strong for a little while longer, even if it had to crash at the end.

-------------------------------------------------------

  After your big bungee jumping excursion, you knew that you all needed a big meal to fill you up. Jennie once again served as your provider, leading you to a beautiful sea-side restaurant.

 With stomachs full of food and hearts lighter than ever, you returned to your home, leaving the afternoon free for all of you. You ultimately decided to watch a movie, which you abandoned only halfway through, with Jennie and Jungkook drifting off to sleep.

  You excused yourself, walking outside to the small nook Francesco had showed you on your first day there, book in hand. Slowly, the sun set over the horizon, light getting scarce and making you set your book aside. You half drifted off, your mind replaying the events of the past few days.

  You enjoyed the quiet, needing some time to yourself to recharge after being stuck to the hip with the others for so long.

  Soon enough, you heard someone making their way over to you. You could tell it was Taehyung, his bare feet making no sound as he walked over to you.

  He laid beside you with a small groan falling from his lips. Once he was next to you, he sighed in contention, making you mirror his actions. He got comfortable against you, your hips and legs touching in a way that was intimate but not too overbearing.

  It was easy. Almost too easy. But then again, everything with Tae was easy. Smiles and laughs, tears and weakness, blurting out your deepest fears or your most precious secrets. You trusted him and he trusted you. Your dynamics were easy, like a river flowing through a valley.

  “Do you know any constellations?” you asked out of the blue.

  He took a few moments to reply, making you turn to face his side profile. His eyes were moving frantically, taking in the clear night sky as your thoughts drifted, thinking how easier it would be if you were in love with him instead.

  Only you weren’t.

  “Someone once told me the night is dark and full of terrors” he said.

  “Kim Taehyung, did you just quote ‘Game of Thrones’ at me?” you asked, laughter bubbling from your chest.

  The popular show had been a bone of contention between your group for a long time, with you and Jungkook totally enamored by it and Taehyung and Jennie cursing it for becoming so mainstream. But it seems, after many years you’d at least gotten Tae to come around. Interesting.

  “Maybe I did… Nothing you can do about it now.” He said, playfully pinching your side, making you squirm and laugh some more. “But seriously, how can you tell them apart? They are just dots” he asked.

  A chuckle fell from your lips as you shook your head,

  “Oh Tae… Let me show you” you said.

  You outstretched your hand to the sky, pointing at the Big Dipper.

  “There’s one. Imagine a parallelogram…”you were saying, when he cut you off.

  “English, Y/N”

  “Oh, come on you little baby, you know what it is! It’s like a table” you said, waiting for his nod of confirmation before outlining the constellation with your hand. “You see it? Over there?”

  “I think so. Should I try to show it?” he asked, making you nod.

  His hand outstretched before you, showing the body of the Big Dipper.

  “That’s good Taehyung, good job!” you encouraged him “Now imagine the tail of a kite following it. You see it? Like that?”

  “I see it! Wow, that’s actually really pretty” he admitted.

  Your reply came at the form of a nod, as your eyes skimmed over various other constellations you recognized.

  “These are different from the ones back home. Before you leave, I’m going to take you stargazing again. I bet you’ll love them.” You promised.

  “Is it really me you want to stargaze with?” Taehyung asked you.

  Your head turned at his words, only to find him already looking at you. His arm was rested under his head, supporting him in a more upright position as his gaze was open, inviting you in, almost like saying ‘Talk to me. I’m here to listen’. You rolled to your side, your own hand resting under your head as you tried to come up with an answer.

  “I just think you guys should talk. Openly. Like grownups. Lay it all out in the open and go from there.” He said, shrugging his shoulders a little.

  “It’s not that simple” you tried to explain.

  “It can’t be harder than that. Opening up is the hardest part. It’s like tearing your heart out of your chest and laying it in front of the other to stomp on.” He said

  “Exactly. There are so many reasons why we should just brush last night off. It’ll be easier that way” you said

  “And when was anything about you guys ever easy? I just… I don’t get it. You’ve been tip toeing around each other for years and now that you finally have your chance…” his voice trailed off.

  “Maybe we missed our timing. Or we weren’t meant to be in the first place. Everything is going to change from now on… Maybe this will be the last thing that will stay the same.” You said.

  “But that’s exactly my point. Everything will be different from now on. So why not you too?” he asked,

  You rolled back to your back, not baring to hold Taehyung’s gaze any longer. The worst thing was he had a point, and you were out of excuses. You heard him sigh next to you, but your thoughts were running too fast to understand the meaning behind his sigh.

  “You know” he said, snapping you away from your thoughts “I’ve been stuck somewhere in the middle between you too for so long. For a time, it was crystal clear to me that you both felt something more. So when Jungkook came to me… I immediately told him that he should confess. But the idiot didn’t want to ‘ruin what you have’. Love is the same. Be it romantic, platonic, parental. It takes time, work, effort and two people who are in it together. It’s not some flick of a switch, you don’t wake up one day and realize you love someone. The feeling grows and grows until there’s no more to grow and then it grows some more. What I’m trying to say is, you aren’t breaking or making anything. You are simply recognizing what was always there” he finished.

  You allowed his words to sink in for a minute, really trying to absorb them.

  “When did you get so wise?” you asked,

  “Wise? I don’t know about that. I just know you. Both of you.” He said simply.

  “It’s not like I don’t want to talk to him. Or that I don’t love him. It’s just…” you said, looking for the words.

  “Let’s say that Jen and I are out of the equation. It’s just you and him. Would you talk then?” he asked you.

  “Of course! But we’ll have to wait until we get back home for that” you said.

  “Not necessarily” he answered, already getting on his feet.

   “Where are you going?” you asked him.

   “Don’t move! Just, wait here!” he told you.

   You did as you were told, lying back to face the sky, your thoughts drifting away, your head emptying out. You didn’t know how long it had been when Jungkook’s voice snapped you away from your thoughts.

  “Hey” was all he said, yet your heart picked up its pace.

  He was leaning on the door with one hand, his other was placed in the pocket of his jeans. His hair was a small mess, making you want to run your hands through it.

  “Hi” you answered simply.

  “Let’s go.” He said, motioning with his head towards the door.

  “Go? Go where?” You asked.

  “Don’t you trust me?” he asked you, smirking.

  You scoffed, your gaze finding the sky again. Nevertheless, you sat up, getting to your feet and dusting away your clothes. Jungkook watched you without saying a word, turning for the door when he realized you were ready to go.

  You saw him pick out the car keys as he led you wordlessly out of the door. You settled in the car in comfortable silence as Jungkook picked out a playlist and began to drive.

  “Do you even know where we’re going?” you broke the silence.

  Jungkook glanced at you briefly, trying to keep his eyes on the road. That gave you the chance to study his side profile as he drove, face set, arms tightly holding at the steering wheel.

  “I thought you trusted me” he said.

  “I never said that” you told him.

  “And yet you came” he said, almost snapping back at you.

  “And yet I came” you said, more so to yourself than Jungkook.

  The car ride continued in silence, music flowing through the speakers, without you paying much attention to it. You noticed that you were driving away from the city, the scenery turning from cute houses, one next to the other to green grass and crops, stacked neatly row after row.

  “We’re here” Jungkook announced, pulling up to the side of the road.

  “This is the middle of nowhere” you said, shocked to see him get out of the car.

  “Exactly. Are you coming or not?” he asked, shutting the door behind him.

  You got out of the car in a hurry, more scared to stay alone in the side of the road than follow Jungkook. You had to trust him. You walked next to him, but he paid you no mind, crossing the street with you hot on his heels.

  On the opposite side of the road, was the sea, magnificent and angry, the wind making it crash on the rocks as if it was punishing them. It was lit pretty well by the headlights of the road, helping you see almost to the bottom of the cliff. Jungkook sat on the ground, making you mirror his movements.

  “Is this a good enough place to talk?” Jungkook asked timidly.

  Realization hit you, making you look around once more. You appreciated the view a hundred times over, making you look back at him with a smile growing on your face.

  “Sure it is” you told him.

  Jungkook sighed deeply, as if he had been holding his breath the whole time it took you to answer. The thought make you want to hug him, but you suppressed your urge. Now was not the time.

  “You want to go first or..?” you asked, fearing the silence for the first time.

  “I don’t think I’d know where to start. Tae said to just talk to you but… I don’t know how to talk to you about this” he said, his face hidden slightly as he looked down, keeping his hands busy by plucking grass out of the ground.

  You took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts before speaking.

  “I… I heard what you said last night. And you’re right, you know. I don’t want to look at other men like that. Taehyung told me that we’ve been tip-toeing around each other for too long and he’s right too. Ever since that night when Jimin left, I… Kook, I’m pouring my heart out here, can’t you at least look at me?” you asked.

  The weight of his gaze made you regret your words. He looked at you intensely, waiting for your next words, his eyes peering into yours. It took everything in you not to crash onto his body right then and there.

  “When Jimin left and we almost… I just can’t get that night out of my head. And I didn’t… I never thought you felt the same way after how that night played out so I-” you were saying, when he cut you off.

  “I always think about that night. But, Y/N you have to understand, I couldn’t. I could never take advantage of you like that, no matter how much I wanted you.” He said.

  “But you’d said…” you tried to tell him, only for him to snap at you.

  “I said what I said that night… To make myself believe it.” He admitted.

  Memories of the pain in your chest as you clung onto Jungkook resurface and you have to push them down. It’s no help remembering the past. Tonight, it’s about the future.

  “It’s always been you. All the girls I was with on and off, they mean absolutely nothing. They were distractions, ways to fool myself that I wasn’t hopelessly in love with you. But I am. And I don’t regret it. I only ever regret not telling you before” he said.

  At last; it had been said. Your bodies collided without you even knowing how or when, your lips finding his in a crazy and passionate kiss. You were tangled together, a mess of limps and bodies as everything faded away, leaving only the two of you.

  Jungkook was the one to pull away first, breathing heavily and connecting his forehead to yours. Your eyes remained closed, your mind trying to remember everything, from the sound of the waves under you to his hands, safely holding onto your hips and the feeling of his hair under your fingertips.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked for a second time that night.

  “You know I do” you told him.

  He pulled you both on your feet, bringing you closer to the edge of the small cliff you were standing on. You looked over the edge, the view almost taking your breath away as the sea spread out for miles on end, only to meet with the tip of the skyline.

  “Now we jump” Jungkook said.

  “Wait, what?” you screamed.

  But Jungkook only smirked at your words, counting down without a second thought. Your head was reeling, questions that would be left unanswered asking themselves one after the other. Is this safe? What if there are rocks in the bottom? We’re going to die, fuck we’re going to crash.

  You jumped, holding onto his hand for dear life as you felt yourself fall. You hit the water’s surface hard, making your muscles ache. Somewhere in the fall, you’d lost Jungkook’s hand, so you swam quickly to the surface to find him.

  He was struggling with the waves, looking for you, the wind and insufficient light not helping him in his endeavors. When he saw you come up, he swam over to you, putting his arms around you immediately.

  “That was so fun!” he said.

  “That was terrifyingly fun, yes” you agreed.

  Jungkook laughed, peppering kisses all over your face, his lips finding yours again. His lips tasted salty and you could taste the sea water on them. You were holding onto each other tightly, the sea raging around you, your feet kicking to keep you afloat, as close to each other as possible. When his hands started trailing under your soaking wet shirt, you quickly broke the kiss, not ready to get lost in it, especially under these circumstances.

  “Jungkook. We should get out” you told him.

  He nodded, leading the way over to a makeshift staircase that led you back to the top. Water was dripping everywhere, from your clothes to your hair, making shivers run up and down your spine. Jungkook entwined his fingers with yours, leading you back to the car. There, he wrapped you around in towels, snuggling next to you to share his body heat with you.

  You kissed him again, this time leisurely, taking your time, savoring the feeling. The kisses were experimental, slow enough to have you whining against him. He heard you loud and clear, deepening the kiss, his hands trailing up and down your back.

  Your moment was broken by Jungkook’s obnoxious ringtone, making you both jump. He groaned, his face falling to the crook of your neck, leaving kisses in its wake.

  “Kook. We should get that” you told him.

  “Fine.” He mumbled angrily.

  He looked around for his phone, answering it quickly and walking a few steps away from you for some privacy. You heard only bits and pieces of the conversation, so you didn’t quite understand what was being said. Slowly, you felt your eyes flutter closed, your head spinning, thoughts running. You were so happy, so unbelievably happy, you could’ve jumped off the cliff again.

  With one eye open, you saw Jungkook making his way back to you after he finished his call.

  “Let’s go back” he told you softly.

  You hummed at his words, jumping down from the front of the car and getting into the passenger seat. Jungkook settled in the driver’s seat, starting the car and driving off.

  “Who was it? On the phone?” you asked.

  “Taehyung, who else? The little snitch told Jen and she screamed that we were going to die if we jumped off the cliff… As if I didn’t research for days for the safest cliff diving spot!” he scoffed.

  “You researched for days? You planned this?” you asked, perplexed.

  “Well… I kind of thought this was my last chance so…” He said, his voice trailing off.

  “Oh Kook…” you said, entwining your fingers with his.

  “I was supposed to take you on sundown, but I fell asleep like the idiot I am” he confessed, placing small kisses on your knuckles.

  “Oh shut up” you mumbled, pulling your hand back.  

  Silence wrapped you up in the car as he kept his focus on the road and you did your best to stay awake. Jungkook parked the car not far from the house, but you stopped him before he could get out.

  “Can we… sit here for a minute?” you asked him.

  Wordlessly, he sat back, eyes never leaving yours.

  “I’m just… I’m so happy right now. But I don’t want this to be just fantasy. I need to know you’re ready to… To work on this, on us, with me. Once we get back we can’t just, I don’t know, brush each other off” you said.

  “Y/N, I haven’t been more serious about anything in my life. I’m ready to work on us however long we need to make it work. This isn’t just a hook up for me. Never was, never will be. We… We’re in this for the long run. Okay?” he said, trying to reassure you.

  His words helped your heart settle in its place, back in your chest. As you walked back to the house, hangs held tightly together, you knew that from now on everything would change. Dynamics needed to be made anew, your relationship shifting, the balance of the group’s friendship dipping.

  But you were in this together. And with Jungkook by your side… There were few things that scared you.

[sitcomified]

fighting dragons with you

summary:  amy gets injured on a case and jake pays her a visit. (pre-canon) word count: 3.5k rating: teen?

read below or on AO3

content warning for minor depictions of violence and general discussions of assault

Amy Santiago wrote her life plan when she was sixteen years old, and revisits it each month like clockwork. She figured out from a young age that if she could clearly define a set of rules to follow to a tee, then she would never fall off course. Most nights, the three inch purple binder lives on her bedside table, where after long days of life-threatening work, she can put everything into perspective. Most days, the plan works out great for her. But she’s not invincible. She still scrapes gum off her brand new shoes and wrestles with her too warm pillow. 

It’s not that she can’t deal with unpredictable situations. If anything, being almost comically prepared for every possible situation has made the challenge of taking on these changes that much more thrilling. She knows she excels at tasks that demand quick thinking and efficient problem solving. Hell, that’s why she became a cop.

Amy clocked into work two minutes late that morning. She stared at her watch, already mentally preparing how she would make it up to her squad (even though a quick glance around the bullpen would let her know that she was still the first officer there for her shift.)

By the time her partner showed up nearly thirty minutes late—an occurrence so routine she’d be surprised if anyone even noticed—Amy was already wrapping up her first report of the day. As she reached across her desk for the folder containing crime scene evidence, her partner finally acknowledged her.

“Nice spiderman band-aid,” Jake greeted her, gesturing to her right hand. She sighed deeply. The band-aid in question is nursing a particularly nasty paper cut from when she tried to intercept one of her partner's paper airplanes (probably made from some actually important file) the previous day. Amy rinsed the cut under the precinct kitchenette’s ice-cold water, swearing she’d be fine for the rest of the day, but her finger still stung when she got home and discovered that her only first aid supplies were from the last time her nephews visited.

“Hello Detective Peralta,” Amy replied, trying to salvage any semblance of workplace professionalism. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure if her partner’s retort warranted a response. 

“Aw, is that your pet name for me?” he joked, clearly not wanting to drop their banter, “I’m going to call you sugar...nose.” He extended a finger and lightly tapped her on the nose, to emphasize the point. 

Amy flinched in response. “Sugarnose?” she repeated incredulously.

“Yeah I didn’t want it to be too sexual, and then I panicked,” Jake explained. Amy half expected him to follow it up with one of the “title of your sex tape” jokes that he was so prone to making, but thankfully, today she would be spared.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Peralta. At his best, he could be just as sharp a detective as she was. The problem was, that was rarely ever his goal. He showed open disrespect for any authority that would dare get in his way, almost as if it were a game to him. On the field, he spent more time trying to portray himself as an action movie star than trying to catch criminals, and she’d be surprised if he actually followed any of the NYPD’s safety guidelines. 

Her day went on as it usually did. Finishing up reports, interviewing witnesses, investigating a crime scene—fortunately on her own. Amy had no idea why Captain McGintley was so adamant about partnering her and Peralta. Their approaches to every aspect of police work seemed fundamentally incompatible. Her captain probably just needed someone responsible to babysit New York’s Least Mature Detective (a title he had bestowed upon himself) in the field. It was a horribly sexist and insulting implication that gave Amy flashbacks to a whole childhood’s worth of classroom seating charts and group projects, where she was put in the exact same position. 

That afternoon, just as she was getting into the rhythm of responding to the perpetual flood of emails in her inbox, Peralta tore her away from her work to go on a stakeout for a case they were working on, insisting that the new lead was “actually legit this time.”

When Amy left the precinct she was surprised to see that her partner decided not to “ball out” and instead opted for a sensible SUV for their stake out. “Nice ride, Peralta.”

“Thanks, I borrowed it from some guy Diaz is testifying against,” he said smugly. Amy raised her eyebrows in return. Of course there would be a catch. “Kidding,” he reassured her. “It’s the precinct’s, I’m surprised you don’t like have the license plates memorized by now.”

Amy wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved or insulted by that. She had only been there a couple months, surely that wasn’t an expectation; if it was, it was never conveyed to her in the brief amount of training she received. Regardless, she responded, “very funny, but I’m still driving.” 

Jake soured with mock offense, “Seriously, Santiago? You think that my driving is more dangerous than that drug ring you busted last month?”

“I’m a detective. I know that I might die on the force. What I’m absolutely not okay with is dying because some idiot would rather play air guitar than follow basic road safety concepts,” Amy said, crossing her arms. On their last stakeout, they almost lost their perp during his particularly enthusiastic rendition of Lose Yourself.

“Too-shee,” he responded, with a smirk on his lips. He was messing with her. Surely, he wasn’t actually that dumb.

Amy corrected him, “you know it’s pronounced touché.”

“Ok nerd,” he replied, and tossed her the car keys. “But I get to stay on AUX.”

She was a bit taken aback by how quickly he agreed to cooperate with her. “You’ve gotta stay focused,” she added, as she climbed into the car. There was a foul smell that she couldn’t quite place. All the more reason to rush this.

“Of course I am a professional, Santiago,” he said from the passenger seat. He reached into his bag and pulled out a giant pack of Cheetos. “Want one?” he offered. She shook her head in disgust.

“Alright, so the informant, Dragos, said the operation is based out of a pharmacy on Atlantic, I assume that’s where we’re going?” Amy asked, as she started the car.

“Toit, and also holy shit is that his real name?” Jake questioned, eyes wide. “That’s badass.”

Amy frowned. “Did you even read the case file?”

“I skimmed it. Your sentences are all so long!” he complained.

“I’m sorry that I’m thorough and I actually follow procedure. Maybe you should take a cue from me, I mean that’s gotta be why McGintley assigned us to this case,” she said.

Jake laughed at her. “I have the most arrests in the precinct,” he bragged. Amy wanted to bring up that arrests weren’t actually a good indication of community safety, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to articulate the problem to him once more.

“That’s just because you make Boyle do all your paperwork,” she retaliated. “If you did everything you were supposed to, you know that I’d be ahead of you.”

Jake stopped fiddling with the car’s radio, and turned to face Amy. “First of all, Boyle loves paperwork. And for the record, I actually asked the Captain to put us together on this case.”

“Exactly, because you knew I would do all the work,” Amy said, smugly.

“No! It’s ‘cause I knew it was a tough one, and you’re obviously super smart.” Amy blushed a little. She assumed that Jake thought as little of her as she did of him. “Plus, I heard you talking to Diaz about how you weren’t getting any good cases,” he continued. She’s surprised, not at what he noticed, but the fact that he actually cared enough to try and fix her problems. It was true that McGintley was underutilizing her—the other day he had her spend an hour finding an anniversary present for his wife. 

“Well, thanks,” Amy responded with an awkward smile. “I didn’t think you cared.”

“‘Course, you’re part of the 99 now. Anything for the squad.” he said. Right, Jake was just doing what any good cop would do for their team. He didn’t actually care about her, at least not enough to not get cheeto crumbs on the seat that she’d have to clean up. 

Jake points at the car’s speaker system at the next red light. “Hey, do you know how this works?” 

“Do you seriously not know?” she teased. It was a strikingly simple set up.

“Obviously not, or else we’d be listening to my sick beats right now.” Jake said. “My car still uses cassettes exclusively and I fear my mixtapes would cause this lame car to spontaneously combust.”

Amy sighed. “Here, give me your phone,” she told him, and plugged in the audio cable. Immediately music started blaring out of the speakers. She recognizes the opening chords instantly and starts laughing. “Is this what you listen to?” she asked. 

Jake started frantically pushing buttons on the dashboard, only making the music louder by accident. “No. I swear I don’t know how this got on here.” Amy grinned. It was so rare that she had the upper hand in embarrassing him and she was already thinking of how to capitalize on it.

“Keep it on,” she said, guiding his hands away from the speaker system before he had the chance to break something. “I like this song.” He leaned back in his seat and helped himself to another handful of Cheetos. Amy returned her focus to navigating the complex puzzle of Brooklyn traffic. 

Over the revving motors and honking of angry drivers, she heard him begin to sing along. It wasn’t obnoxiously loud and it didn’t feature impromptu parody lyrics. His voice was surprisingly soft, and she wondered if he was even conscious of his singing. She was perplexed by how he managed to focus on nothing and everything at the same time. How he managed to let loose in the most tense situations. Amy couldn’t even bring herself to have that kind of fun when she specifically scheduled it in her planner. 

What the hell, they were still a fifteen minute drive from the pharmacy. She joined in with the chorus. He looked at her with a confused, yet happy, expression, and ramped up his volume, and even incorporated his own dance moves. “Damn, Santiago, didn’t know you had it in you,” he said, after they finished the chorus on a tone-deaf harmony.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Peralta,” she replied, raising her eyebrows with feigned confidence. 

Jake chuckled and opened his mouth; she assumed to argue, but instead he just continued the second verse. She didn’t know the rest of the lyrics, and she certainly couldn’t decipher them from the dramatic voices he was adding into it. 

“Hey isn’t that our guy,” he interrupted, pointing to a man who was standing by the trash cans on the corner, despite his right of way. Amy paused and took a closer look. Surely enough, their perp, Andrei Volkov, was standing there, waiting for the deal they had been told would occur miles away.

“Oh my god,” Amy said, turning to park their car just out of eyesight.

“Luckily he didn’t seem interested enough in the two adult Taylor Swift fans, to notice we’re a police vehicle.” Jake replied. He leaned towards the trunk window to sneak a better view of their target. 

“Do you want to call for backup?” Amy asked. “How many guys are there?”

“Looks like about three, and it seems pretty exposed for back up unless they have access to one of the houses,” Jake said, propping himself back in the seat. “I think we should be good.”

Amy paused for a second. Her instinct was always to air on the side of caution, but Jake had proven himself to be more reasonable than she assumed. “Okay, I trust you,” she said.

“Take my lead,” he instructed, before she could argue, and secured his vest as he left the car. Amy followed him out hesitantly, one hand hovering protectively over her radio. They crossed the street while Volkov’s back was turned. As soon as they made eye contact, Jake whipped out his gun, and cornered him against the lamp post. “NYPD, you’re under arrest.” Amy instinctually dove behind the trash can. Through the grated metal she could see both of Volkov’s men pull their guns at Jake from behind his back. She can’t quite recognize exactly which members of the operation they are. He held one hand on Volkov while he turned to face the others. They kept their guns raised in his direction. 

“Here’s the deal, come back to my precinct, and I won’t shoot. I’m all alone out here.” Jake kicks the trashcan Amy is ducked behind. Then twice, to get her attention. And again. The Funky Cold Medina, she realized. Amy felt her heart pounding all the way in her fingers and toes. 

“What’s the matter with your leg, pig,” one of the men scoffed. She recognized the voice. Apparently Dragos was more involved in the operation than he led on, and had intentionally given her the wrong address. Amy reached for her gun and jumped up, turning to cover Jake.

“Hey, you’re the lady with the thank you notes,” Dragos said, as he lowered his weapon, “almost made me feel bad for lying to you.” 

Amy fixed her eyes in his direction, “yeah well, thanks for nothing.” 

“That was a pretty weak comeback, Santiago,” Jake muttered from her side. She shot him a nasty look.

“Your partner’s right,” Volkov added, still struggling against the lamppost.

“Nice try but you’re still arrested,” Jake said, as he reached for his handcuffs and began reciting the Miranda Rights. Amy stared down the other two men in the meantime, instructing them to drop any weapons they’re carrying. They obeyed and placed their guns at her feet. Just as they began to stand up, Dragos punched Amy in the face, his ring leaving a deep gash on her cheek. The metallic taste of blood floods her mouth. Her vision was blurred as tears welled up in her eyes, causing searing pain in the open wound.

Dragos started to bolt but Jake managed to trip him and keep him pinned to the ground. He struggled to handle both perps, however, and Amy watched as the third man ran away. She tried to chase after him, but she was too shocked to make it any farther. “Dragos, you’re coming with me,” Jake said, locking the handcuffs in place. “Amy, I’m calling you an ambulance.” 

She was too dishevelled to protest.

That night, Amy’s brother drove her home from the hospital where she received seven stitches. Half her face was still numb from the anesthesia. Still, the second she got her phone back, she sent a text to her partner: “LMK if you need help processing.”

Half an hour later she heard her apartment buzzer go off. She paused her episode of Jeopardy, kicked on her fluffy slippers, and answered it. 

“Delivery for Lady Amy Santiago,” Jake said, in a terribly butchered British accent through the phone. 

“Come up,” she replied, stifling a laugh. The meds had worn her down enough that she could fully embrace his immature humor. 

Three minutes later Jake announced himself with a knock on her door. “Alright, so I got you this. Hope you like shitty diner food because that’s all that’s open right now,” he held up two take out bags. Through the semi-opaque plastic she noticed two liters of the horrible orange soda he spilled on her desk once and still couldn’t get the stain out from.

“Yeah that’s fine,” she said, gesturing for him to come take a seat. She braced herself to be tormented for her decor. Suddenly she realized Jake came all the way to her house for her. He didn’t have to be here. Why was he here? “Thanks, by the way. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

He took a seat on her couch and plopped the bags on her coffee table. She never ate there, it was reserved for drinks, at most, but she didn’t correct him. Especially when he was doing her a favor “I know. I wanted to though. I also finished processing Dragos and Volkov, all by myself,” he said. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Amy asked flatly. She peered into the bag and examined the feast he brought: two cheeseburgers, a plate of chicken tenders, one hamburger, a salad, about three orders of fries, and of course the two orange sodas. For someone who was proudly in debt, he sure spent a lot on this meal.

“Cause it’s my fault you’re like this,” he said. Amy wanted to protest, he made a bad call re-backup, but she could have gotten injured either way. “Also you’re so hopped up on painkillers there’s no way you’ll remember this,” he added, cracking a smile. He really wasn’t capable of a genuine moment. 

Amy rolled her eyes at him. “It’s not that much stronger than Advill, and memory loss isn’t a side effect,”

“Hmm,” he frowned, “we’ll see about that tomorrow.”

Amy froze. “I hope you’re not here to try anything,” she said, half joking. Jake was a jerk, but she never thought he would stoop that low. Even still, she couldn’t let her guard down that much.

“Oh, God no, absolutely not. I would never take advantage of you—of anyone—like that. Is that what you thought?” Jake stammered, scooching himself away from her on the couch. He looked as if he had seen a ghost or something, and his messy hair only added to the effect.

“I dunno,” Amy said, “I guess I can’t be too trusting.” She took out a container full of fries and handed him one as a peace offering. 

“Right, right, men are a nightmare,” Jake agreed through a mouthful of potato. He even didn’t try to distance himself from “other men”, or go with the “but I’d never do that route”. Her chest was heavy with guilt at the thought of making such an implication.

“No, no, no, it’s fine, really. Sorry for accusing you.” Amy said. 

“It’s not fine. And you shouldn’t apologize because that’s a real fear. It’s on me,” he replied. She looked at him with confusion. It was rare for guys to understand that much. “And I’m sorry for being such a dick to you these past few months,” he blurted out. 

Amy couldn’t believe that the guy sitting in her apartment was the same one who decided to address her via paper airplane for a week, and only stopped when he ran out of papers on his desk.  “Hey I wasn’t much better. I was so obsessed with out-doing you, I never went to you for help—” he shot her an expectant glance,“—also I’m sorry for ratting you out all the time.” He nodded, and helped himself to another fry from her container.

“Why are you so competitive?” he asked through a mouthful of potato. She noticed a bit of ketchup on his chin and reached for a napkin.

“I have seven brothers,” she provided him with the stock answer.

“I know that,” he said, “that doesn’t answer my question.”

She pauses. “My parents were always comparing us, so many siblings meant the bar for anything was set super high, I don’t know, that sort of stuff.” 

“But why do you care?” he pushed. She hadn’t ever considered that before. The endless treadmill she shoved herself on was just always there. Even when she knew the goals she set were irrational she would just keep running, because the idea of falling off was so much worse.

“I guess it makes me worried, if I’m not measuring up,” she confessed. “I feel like I did something wrong.”

“You know you’re crazy, right?” he asked, smirking at her.

Amy rifled through the bottom of the takeout bag. “Did they give you any mustard packets?” she asked.

“Nah. But, as your self-appointed guardian angel, I will go to the bodega and get you some,” he said, picking up the jacket he threw on her floral carpet.

“You don’t have to do that, really,” Amy insisted.

He looked back at her as if the very notion were ridiculous. “Amy, you just got injured in the line of duty. If all you want is mustard, you can have all the mustard in the world.” 

“Thanks, Jake. You’re a really good friend,” she ventured. She waited for a moment, to see how he would respond, hopefully solidifying their friendship. Maybe she was friendzoning advances she wasn’t even aware of. Maybe he was confused, and he was just doing a nice thing for a coworker.

“You too,” Jake said. However he interpreted all the implications, he didn’t let her know. “When I get back we’re watching Die-Hard!” he added as he rushed out the door. Amy smiled to herself as she heard the lock click into place. 

[vanaera]

The Heart Holiday | Act 2 (2/2) | myg

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day is declared as an official holiday. However, private companies’ standards dictate it’s only for the people who are currently in a relationship. Unluckily for Y/N, she doesn’t have this year’s PRS’ (Proof of Relationship Status) “in a relationship” box ticked – the only ticket out she can have to enjoy one paid week of holiday leave away from her hellish job. And more unfortunately for Y/N, everyone around her is oh so conveniently currently committed in a relationship. Except for one person: Min Yoongi, Y/N’s biggest critic in every pitch meeting, the picky guy who always picks on her, and the most annoying jerk of the century. Desperate for that holiday leave, Y/N strikes Yoongi up with an offer: Fake date each other two weeks before February 14, just enough time for the Department of Relationship Management (DRM) to consider processing their PRSs. After Valentine’s Day, they will go back to their own ways and never speak about whatever that may happen during the plan. Good, plain, and simple. That is until, Yoongi uncharacteristically oh so enthusiastically agrees to Y/N’s offer, leaving her thinking that she may have bitten something too much more than she can chew.

Characters: Yoongi x Female Reader AU/ Trope: Office AU (Creatives Staff!myg x PA!reader), enemies to lovers, fake dating Genre: fluff, angst, comedy (the triple t(h)reat) Wordcount: 24.5k Warnings: None (PG-15 Rating). There’s a mention of drunken sex but it’s just one sentence. There’s also less cursing now.

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DAY 4 – January 29; Wednesday

               If yesterday had Yoongi weirdly avoiding her like she’s got a highly contagious virus, today’s Yoongi is a hell of a nutcase. This is even far from an understatement. Ever since Y/N set foot in the office, Yoongi is already on her face. “You got my message last night, sweetheart?” He winks as he walks by her side towards the Creatives’ office. When Y/N plops down on her seat, Yoongi’s eyes are already set dead onto her. He’s not sending her his usual ‘I will end you and you know I can’ look. He’s cupping his face and stares at her with wide, big eyes, lips pulled into a small smile. He even goes as far as to wink at her and send her a fucking finger heart. As if it’s not enough, he has spammed her phone with weird shit.

               Mean Yoongi >:( : Good morning, pretty girl.  (8:19 A.M.)

               Mean Yoongi >:( : Did I call you pretty? Oops, I mean little girl AHAHAHHAHAH (9:11 A.M.)

               Mean Yoongi >:( : Don’t ignore me now. I know you’re staring at me 😉 (9:31 A.M.)

               Mean Yoongi >:( : Who wouldn’t when I’m so handsome? (9:32 A.M.)

               Mean Yoongi >:( : You don’t have to tell me. I already know 😉😉😉 (9:35 A.M.)

               Mean Yoongi >:( : Y/Niiiiiiieeeeeeeee (10:16 A.M.)

               It seems like a virus has gotten into Yoongi’s head and tampered with his brain.

               Y/N’s thoughts halt when Dana passes by her cubicle at 11 A.M. She retrieves the folder she gave her yesterday and glosses over the paper where Y/N typed her final picks. “Endmatter, Extreme Cut, Malachite Adventure? And you want to make a hybrid out of them?” Dana glances up at her.

               Y/N nervously clasps her hands together, “Well, I know these templates are usually used for feature articles. So I thought, why not make them appropriate for profile pages, too? No one di-dictated them to be just for features, right? Endmatter has a wonderful layout for pictures. Extreme Cut is good for setting focus on the text blocks. Malachite Adventure has a space-efficient layout for sequencing. If we can combine these three, we could provide something new,” Y/N bites her lip. “Nancy likes new and clean for generic pages like the profiles. So…I guess, why not combine these three templates known for having a clean-cut design?”

               Dana stares at her. Y/N gnaws on her lips. The blonde breaks into a grin. “My, you do research well.”

               Y/N shyly looks down onto the notebook on her desk. She doesn’t do much work other than gathering reports anyway. It’s only logical she spent five hours learning about templates yesterday than not doing anything. She mutters, “I just really put my all when I’m given a job.” 

                “And you did,” Dana smiles, “I think this is even brilliant. I’ll make sure to tweak these three to what you suggested.”

                “Y-you will?” Y/N’s eyes grow big. She could feel her heart hammering loud in her ears.

                “Yeah, why not?” Dana shrugs, “This is new so I’m excited, myself, to try this. And because you know what Nancy likes from all the time you spent with her probably overhearing her roast us all to hell and back, I can at least be assured she won’t be too disappointed with this as our previous submission.”

                “Yeah,” Y/N smiles. Heat spreads onto her ears and warmth settles on her chest. The feeling feels too foreign and surreal but she guesses it’s probably just because It’s been a while since she’s been praised for doing a good job. 

               “Guess you and Yoongi made up, huh?”

               The spreading warmth freezes cold. Y/N looks up at Dana in surprise. 

                “I saw you two earlier being chummy with each other. It even looked like you two have fucking heart eyes,” Dana smiles expectantly.

                “N-no, we’re—” Y/N cuts herself. Right, we’re supposed to be a couple. We should have already started convincing everyone we’re dating each other the moment we agreed on the deal. Y/N gulps, “Umm, uh, yeah?”

               Dana giggles, “You don’t have to be so nervous, you know? I know you two have a thing. For a long time now.” Y/N’s brows meet together. Dana doesn’t dwell on it, gathering the folder back onto her arms, “Thank you for this again, Y/N. See ya later.”

               Dana leaves for the break room and Y/N’s left staring at her back. Her stupor is broken when Yoongi enters her field of vision again, hands occupied with papers.  When he passes by her cubicle, he makes sure to flash her another mischievous wink.

               Y/N groans and slumps her head onto her desk.

                “He’s got my number now, Mina, and to make matters worse, he’s being a winking machine ever since this day started!”

               Mina nods. However, Y/N could tell something is up. Her bestfriend’s eyes are switching from her face and onto her radio and her hands were shaking in her clasp. It’s as if she’s restaining herself. 

               Y/N pauses. She pulls her seat closer to her friend, “Did something happen, Mina?”

               Biting her lips, Mina pins her with a look, “Y/N, promise me you won’t be too surprised.”

               “Why?” Y/N’s eyes grow bigger, “So something really happened? Tell me, Mina.”

                No,” Mina shakes her head. She closes her eyes, “Just promise me you won’t overreact.”

               Y/N’s lips twitch. “Okay.”

               Mina sighs. She turns to her computer and scrolls through her Facebook account. “So yesterday, I’ve been talking with our high school batchmates. They were planning a reunion next month. A big one. They said they’re trying to get ahold of the whole batch. And something caught my eye.” Mina zooms a post on the screen.

               It was a post of Suho Lee, the former Student Council President of their batch in National East Science High School. He took a picture of him and his former members of the council, announcing they’re indeed planning a huge reunion since it’s been a while they’ve seen each other. The post has over a thousand likes by now because Suho made sure to tag almost everyone in the batch. Of course, he’s Suho. Suho knows everybody. Y/N could even see Mina’s name among the tags. But what made her jaw drop is one aberrant name she never expected to be there.

               Min Yoongi.

               Y/N turns to Mina, eyes blown wide, “Mina, what the hell is this?”

               Mina nods, “I’m also shocked, Y/N. I didn’t know he studied in the same high school as us. He’s even our fucking batchmate. I didn’t know—wait, Y/N, where are you going?!”

               Y/N exits the Accounting Department and scrolls through her own Facebook account. She walks in fast strides and heads to where she only knows Min Yoongi will be during lunch: the break room. When she swings open the door, she’s right in her speculation.

               Y/N walks toward the man who’s washing his utensils in the sink.

               “Min.”

               Yoongi pauses and looks to his side, “Oh, sweetheart, you’re here.”

                “Don’t call me sweetheart,” Y/N spits. She flashes her phone to Yoongi. “What’s the meaning of this?”

               Yoongi squints. “It’s a reunion announcement.”

                “Obviously,” Y/N rolls her eyes, “I know how to read, Min. And because of that, I know you’ve been tagged here. So, tell me, why is your name here?”

               Yoongi places his washed utensils in the dishrack. “Obviously, I’ll be tagged because I studied at NES High,” He looks at Y/N, leaning his hips against the counter, “Why are you making such a big deal out of a reunion announcement?”

                “Because I studied here too!”

                It’s time for Yoongi to have his eyes bulge out, “Y-you did?”

                “Of course, I did! This is where Mina and I first met!”

                “But I thought you two were just college buddies?”

                “We are! But we belong in the same friend circle in high school first before we got closer in college—this is not the point,” Y/N exasperates, “Why did you not tell me you studied in the same high school?!”

               Yoongi opens his mouth but Y/N cuts him short, “Oh, I know. This is probably the reason why you’re tormenting me ever since you got into Travel Loca.”

               “What?”

               Y/N crosses her arms. “You’re out here to take your revenge on me.”

               The furrows on Yoongi’s forehead deepen.

               “Hello?” Y/N deadpans, waving her hands as if it can shake up Yoongi’s memory, “You’re probably one of the names I removed on some group work we had because you’re a freeloader. No wonder you’re so lazy and such a slack-off when you used to co-P.A. with me.” Y/N holds her head high, “And now, you’re here to take revenge.”

               Yoongi releases a half-scoff, half-laugh, “What?”

               Y/N frustratedly blows a sigh, “In case you did not know, I’m well-known in the batch for removing names of freeloaders in group works. I haven’t kept track of how many names I’ve already removed because they’re that many. And now, you’re here taking your revenge. You don’t have to be petty, Yoongi, you know? If you had unresolved feelings—which I think you don’t have any right to have in the first place because it’s your fault for being lazy and you dug out your own grave—you could have just talked with me like a goddamn adult instead of doing all the shit you did—”

               Yoongi’s guffaw cuts you short.

               Y/N scowls, “Why are you laughing, Yoongi? This is not funny.”

               “Oh, it is!” Yoongi lets out, in-between breaths, “This is hilarious! Revenge? What will I avenge against you when I don’t even know you studied in the same high school?”

               Y/N stops. “Y-you don’t know me? But I’m the valedictorian of our batch!”

              “Not everyone cares to know that, you know?”

               Y/N’s scowl deepens, “Just because you didn’t get any awards in your whole life doesn’t mean you get to demean and undervalue other’s people achievements.”

               “I’m not undervaluing it,” Yoongi takes a step closer to her, “I’m just saying no one spends too much time remembering their batch’s valedictorian. I don’t even remember the summa cum laude of my own batch in college.” Yoongi takes a step closer to Y/N, trapping her back on the counter. He leans forward, closing the space between their faces so small only a hair’s breadth separates their noses from brushing against each other. Y/N lets out an inaudible gasp. Yoongi smirks, “What makes you so different, sweetheart?”

               Y/N places her hands on his shoulders, “Don’t get too proud of yourself, Yoongi.” But before she can push him away, the door swings loudly against the wall and a woman exclaims.

               “Oh my God, I’m so sorry for interrupting!”

               Ms. Teddy. Y/N’s mouth falls open. She weakly hits Yoongi’s chest to back away and pay respect to their temporary boss but Yoongi only holds her fists and gives her a sickening, sweet smile. He turns around to face Ms. Teddy, but not enough to let out Y/N from her position. Yoongi smiles at the general supervisor, “Oh don’t worry Ms. Teddy, you’re not interrupting anything.”

              “Are you sure?” the 45-year-old woman asks. Her wary tone doesn’t match the small blush forming on her cheeks though.

              “I’m sure,” Yoongi replies, facing Y/N, “I’m just trying to ask my sweetheart for a date.” Yoongi turns back to Ms. Teddy, smiling, “Nothing biggie. She just said ‘yes.’”

               Y/N gapes “What—"

               “Oh!” Ms. Teddy perks up, “You two are so sweet! I didn’t know you’re actually a couple! I mean, who would have known? You two always fight with each other. But I guess the movies are right. ‘The more you hate, the more you love.’”

               Y/N tries not to cringe too hard.

               Ms. Teddy chuckles, “What Y/N said before must be true then. Calling you a ‘mean, inconsiderate, self-absorbed jerk’ must be her own unique term of endearment—”

               Y/N raises her brows. How did Ms. Teddy know? Only Steven knows about the mug-chipping incident—” 

                “—I mean, I even used to call my ex-boyfriend ‘stupid asshole,’” Ms. Teddy chuckles. She suddenly releases a frustrated sigh, “God, I still hate him so much.”

               Y/N doesn’t know how to react to that. And so seems Yoongi.

               “Anyway, don’t mind me,” Ms. Teddy waves, a sweet smile plastered on her face again. She walks towards the ref to retrieve a green Tupperware. “I’m just here to grab my cheesecake.” The way her eyes refuse to tear away from the “couple” seems to say otherwise.

              “O-okay,” Y/N says as she looks at Yoongi. It’s a good thing Yoongi is blocking her body from Ms. Teddy. ‘What do we do?’ she mouths at the man.

               Yoongi thinks for a millisecond, then mouths at her, ‘Just follow my lead.’

               Before Y/N can mouth ‘okay,’ Yoongi has closed the gap between them and pressed a quick peck on her forehead. He smiles at her, tucking a stray strand behind her ear, “All right, I’ll see you later then, sweetheart.”

               “A-alright,” Y/N stutters. Yoongi steps away and she quickly makes her way to the door.

               Y/N only notices her hands were tingling when she reaches her P.A. station. And that searing warmth has settled itself on her chest. She plops down on her seat and lets out a tired breath. When she glances at her small mirror, she realizes her face is as red as a strawberry.

               What the hell just happened there?

               Y/N doesn’t get much time to think about it because her phone vibrates next to her leg.

               Mean Yoongi >:( : Let’s meet at The Café Bistro after work. Let’s talk about everything. (1:11 P.M.)

               Y/N doesn’t see much of Yoongi for the rest of the day. He’s probably holed up in the meeting room again just like yesterday. The Creatives were much in a rush since yesterday, probably after receiving the work Yoongi has disseminated. Everyone is hunched over their computers. Some have buried their heads in previous issues and design brochures. While a few were chattering about what design is better for their chosen template than the other.

               And there is one who’s on Y/N’s tail.

               “Oh, Myungsoo, I didn’t see you there,” Y/N glances up from the pile of papers on her desk. 

               Myungsoo doesn’t return the greetings. He leans over her desk and picks one paper to inspect it. “Why do you have this?”

               “Umm,” Y/N looks around the papers strewn around, refusing to look at the frowning man, “Ms. Park gave them to me. She wanted to, uh, have me check them and give some inputs about it.” A smile plays on Y/N’s lips. Dana Lee must have told Yoona about her recent arrangement that’s why Yoona came to her after lunch to ask for advice and critique on what she and her concept team have prepared. It’s quite overwhelming as Ms. Park is one of the respected team leaders in the Creatives. 

              “Ms. Yoona gave you this?” Myungsoo scoffs. Y/N’s smile immediately falls. “Why would she give you this? You don’t know anything about the work we do. You’re just Nancy’s P.A.”

               Y/N internally sighs. Myungsoo has always been wary of her ever since she got in the Creatives but she never knew he will be this hostile. Still, she doesn’t want to cause any unnecessary tension so Y/N tries to placate him. She pulls a polite smile on her face, “That’s why Ms. Yoona came to me. She said since I’m with Nancy for almost 24/7, I must probably know a thing or two about what she likes to see.”

              “But do you?” Myungsoo raises an eyebrow.

              Y/N looks down on the papers, “Y-yeah. Somehow.”

               Myungsoo sighs and drops the paper back onto the pile. “Anyway, I’m here to tell you I’m rejecting your letter of permission to get access to our cover page drafts.”

               Y/N’s head shoots up, “W-what? But Yoongi—”

                “I know what Mr. Min told us this week,” Myungsoo informs. “Yes, we’re tasked to walk you through the activities of our department. However, there are still protocols in our authoritative freedom and I, as a team leader, cannot just give you the drafts of our cover page. We still need more time to work on it and I cannot embarrass myself in front of Ms. Nancy about a work that has not fully taken shape yet.”

                “But didn’t you hear what Yoongi said?” Y/N reasons, “I’m here to help you and I need to give updates to Nancy about everything at every end of the week. Especially now when the department is in full motion.” Y/N cannot give Nancy nothing especially now that Nancy has just emailed her that their issue’s deadline has been moved to February 17. It’s just around the corner. In fact, it’s only a matter of weeks!

                “Well that’s your problem,” Myungsoo retorts, “I’m not the P.A. What I can only give you for your update reports are our initial proposed ideas.”

               But they’re not enough. Y/N closes her eyes, “Look, Myungsoo. I understand that you may be feeling I’m intruding on a space I’m not supposed to. But remember, we’re working together for one company, not for ourselves.” Myungsoo looks like he’s about to bite back but Y/N cuts him to it, “I understand you may feel wary about submitting your concepts for the cover page when they’re still raw. Especially to someone like me who may not completely understand the value you place in your work. However, I cannot just give Nancy undeveloped ideas. So, how about we make a compromise? I’m not gonna push you to walk me through your cover page processing. Or argue more about your raw concepts you’re drafting as of now. But, can you give me at least the plans you made for the undeveloped ideas you’ve chosen your working concept from? So I can still, in a way, report to Nancy the plan your team is trying to execute?”

               Myungsoo stares daggers into her before he mutters a clipped, “Fine. Expect to receive them by the end of the week.”

                “But I have to report them at the end of the week—”

               “End of the week or nothing at all?” Myungsoo sneers, “I can’t rush my artists to finish their concept-making just to take the load off your own job.”

               But I’m not demanding you to make my job easier, can’t you just cooperate like an adult?!—Y/N closes her eyes and sighs, “Okay, understood, Mr. Kim.”      Fighting with him won’t help anything in the pressure the department is facing.

               Myungsoo turns around and wordlessly walks away. YN releases a tired sigh as she goes back onto Yoona’s papers. 

               Hours pass with Y/N finishing her inputs in a document file. Mina has popped by to tell her she’s leaving early to go on a date with Mark. She said she’d probably be home late so they’ll have to continue their conversation earlier tomorrow. However, that was two hours ago and now, it’s already five and almost everyone in the staff has already left the office. She only gets to realize this when a shadow peers over her cubicle.

               “Hey, work’s already over now.”

               Y/N looks up and sees Yoongi smiling at her. His hair was messy as always, probably from pushing them back and carding through them throughout the day. His tie is askew and his button-down is folded messily to his forearms. And his smile felt so gentle. She doesn’t know why but she lets out a relieved sigh.

                “Let’s go to the Café Bistro now, yeah?”

                “Okay,” Y/N smiles back.

               “So…you’re the most hated person in your class for removing names of slackers off group works?”

               Y/N rolls her eyes, “Didn’t you hear what I told you earlier?”

               “Of course, I heard,” Yoongi chortles, scooping a spoonful of his rice bowl, “I just didn’t expect you’ll go for info-dumping in two minutes straight. You really do love to ramble a lot, no?”

               Y/N looks away and stuffs her mouth with a spoonful of her own rice bowl. When she swallows down, she pins Yoongi with a glare, “You can say shit all about how I talk but just so you know, that skill got me so far to where I used to be. I wouldn’t graduate cum laude if I didn’t ace all my speech classes.”

               “I’m not shitting on it. I’m admiring it.” Y/N freezes in her seat to look at the man. Yoongi chuckles. “I’m serious. You don’t have to be constantly on your guard around me, you know? Aren’t we already friends?”

                “F-friends?” Y/N scoffs, “Where the hell did you get that?”

               Yoongi tilts his head, “But I already got your number.”

                “You forced your way to get my number.”

                “I did not force you. You willingly told me your number in a game of 20 Questions.”

               “You covertly formatted your questions to get me to spill my number. I did not willingly tell you my number. You coerced me.”

               “I didn’t. I got your number fair and square,” Yoongi waves his phone.

               “But that doesn’t—”

               “And you already put a name on my number in your contacts,” Yoongi grins, “You even have an emoji next to it.”

                “How did you know?”

                “You opened your phone earlier on the train. And in case you don’t know, the train isn’t one of the most spacious places in the world. We’re practically side by side, look” Yoongi points to the damp patch on his shoulder, “You slept on my shoulder and even got drool on it.” Y/N looks away and stuffs her mouth with another spoon. Yoongi continues, “And with you leaving your phone open for the world to see your messaging app, it doesn’t take two years to see that someone has named you with some obnoxious contact name.” Yoongi opens his phone, “It’s okay though because I also named you this,” he flashes the phone to Y/N.

                >:( Evil Peachy Pie Y/N >:(

               Y/N squints at him. “Fine, a name for a name.”

               “See? That’s why we’re now friends.”

               Y/N scoffs, “How come?”

               “Because you got me a nickname. And I got you one, sweetheart,” Yoongi winks.

               Y/N’s jaw drops, “What the—you know what, go do you and go off to whatever your delusion is feeding you.”

               “Yay! Y/N and I are friends!”

               Y/N gawks at him. Yoongi shrugs with a smile and digs into his food.        

               Chatters fill the bistro. Y/N thinks it’s absurd to combine “café” and “bistro” for the name of an establishment. “It’s as if it can’t choose what type of business it really wants,” she argued earlier to Yoongi on the train. But now that she’s inside, she finally understands why. The interior design of the restaurant is covered in warm orange. The walls and the floor were in mahogany wood. The tables and chairs were metal black with curvilinear gildings, making them look like they’re supposed to be garden furniture in the first place. The plates and bowls were faux wood as well, save for the metal utensils and their glasses that came as mason jars.  And the overhead lights are gorgeous. The faux candles hung up in circular mini chandeliers above the wooden ceiling give off the aesthetic of a gothic palace. Meanwhile, the bar on the center of the shop was of high-quality polished wood. A lot of people are dining like them on the tables but there are also numerous patrons who were in stools, holding different kinds of liquors in their glasses. There’s a free space in front of the bar where Y/N could see couples slow-dancing to the live jazz band playing in the corner. And with the separate menu for alcoholic drinks the waiter had given them earlier, Y/N could finally see why this cafe is also a bistro.

                “So, whose names did you slash off from your group works?”

               Y/N whips her head back to Yoongi, “Why are you so insistent about this?”

               Yoongi pushes his empty bowl to the side. “You said everyone knows you for that. I’m just curious about the slackers who free-rode on you back then. I might even know them since I studied in the same school.” He leans back and places his arms behind his head, “You could totally help me avoid some leeches in life.”

                “First of all,” Y/N points her spoon at him, “You’re the first leech you should know. You slacked off when you were my co-P.A. You slept, you didn’t take calls. You even served me raw for Nancy to roast.”

                “I’m sorry.”

               Y/N’s brows shoot up. “W-what?”

               Yoongi leans forward and clasps his hands together. He looks at the woman in the eye, “I’m sorry about that, Y/N. Sincerely. I admit I was too much of an asshole back then. I tried to justify it by thinking you’re annoying so you deserve some annoyance in life, too. But in the end, I know I’m still wrong. You being annoying or not, what I did was still wrong. I’m sorry.”

               Y/N’s jaw drops as she leans slowly back in her seat. Did Yoongi just apologize to her? Again? And for three consecutive times tonight? What is up with him?

                “You don’t have to forgive me, you know? Nor am I telling you these just to get the guilt off my back. I’m sincerely sorry. I want to apologize to you.”

                “W-what are you suddenly on about?” Y/N tries to laugh but the sound is weird in her ears. “You got so serious, I thought I’m suddenly talking with a stranger.” Y/N tries out a chuckle again. It sounds more convincing to her this time. She waves her hand dismissively, “Anyway, I didn’t actually answer your question. You’re talking about high school so here it goes.” She looks up at the ceiling, “Well, I’ve got Johnny Lee, Byun Baekhyun, Park Mirae, Lee Jieun, Mark Peters” Y/N cups her jaw, “What’s more? Oh! How could I forget—Jennie Kim, Im Nayeon, Daewon Lee—”

                “Wait, Daewon Lee?” Yoongi sits up, “You mean Daewon the quarterback? And Jennie Kim and Im Nayeon, the cheerleaders?”

                “Why?” Y/N leans forward, “You know them personally?”

                “God, yes,” Yoongi laughs, “They’re awful.”

                “Tell me about it,” Y/N’s eyes sparkle in interest.

                “Well,” Yoongi starts, “we had this class project where we have to recreate a scene from a well-known play or movie. Our class was assigned to do Hairspray. And Jennie Kim was our class president so of course, she was horrible. She re-proved this fact when she decided to go dictator and exercise penalties on anyone who would be late for the rehearsals. She freaking imposed that we have to pay $2 for every minute we were late. All is fine if she didn’t assign her own home as the practice place and there’s a lot in the class who lives a good two miles away. And it didn’t help almost everyone just agreed with it because no one decided to contest it in fear of turning the majority against them. It was horrible. All the late fees were put in our class fund. It accumulated to about $100 at the end of the day and that’s very unfitting when NES High is a fucking public school. 

                “$100?” Y/N gawks.

                “Yeah.  Moreover, it’s unfair, because we all know at the end of the school year, the class fund will be divided among each student. With the late fees being implemented, it looks like people who are Jennie and those who live near her will benefit for free from these late fees. Luckily, someone was brave enough to stand up and talked it out with them. And of course, with Jennie being Jennie, she flipped out so the whistleblower eventually had to go to the headteacher of the event to settle the issue. I’m kinda ashamed about this incident. I’m one of the many who just went with the majority because,” Yoongi frustratedly cards through his hair, “I was a bit of a pushover back then.”

               Y/N gapes, “Y-you? A pushover? Oh my god, you’re like the stereotypical nerd in movies who does a 180 to seek revenge!”

               Yoongi squints at her, “Will you stop with the revenge plot you’ve been pushing since this morning?”

                “Okay,” Y/N says but her face looks otherwise with her trying hard to hold in her chuckles.

               Yoongi breaks into a chuckle as well, “God, you look ridiculous.”

                “So are you,” Y/N laughs. When the snickers die down, she waves at Yoongi, “Go on with the story.”

                “Okay,” Yoongi breathes out, “So that was the first strike for this dumb shit squad. The second was worse for it affected the whole batch. It was when the school coordinators tasked each class with a specific dance genre to perform. And Jennie, being the unnecessarily extra bitch that she was, decided to fuck up the arrangement by forcing another class to exchange their assigned piece with ours. Of course, this sparked chaos because when other classes have heard about this, they wanted to exchange, too. And soon, everyone was arguing how they want to exchange or keep their assigned pieces. It’s so messy that the teachers had to hold a batch-wide meeting with all the class officers to settle things out. Luckily, there was someone who stood up and outright pointed out it was Jennie who started it all because she did not ask for the other classes’ consent in the first place—” 

                “Wait, are you talking about me?” Y/N cuts him, eyes wide. “I’m the one who first called out Jennie in the meeting!” Y/N exclaims, “I can’t hold myself back that day because I’m so sick of everyone just willingly and silently enduring her bullshits! All of this wouldn’t happen in the first place if she wasn’t such a shitty, entitled person. I even remember Jennie staring daggers at me as if doing so can reverse what happened when the teacher told her off in front of the whole batch.” Y/N’s brows meet together, “How did you know about this though? Even if it was supposed to be a batch-wide meeting, not everyone was present. The teachers didn’t make the meeting compulsory especially for the students who feel uncomfortable going against another student.”

                “Everyone kind of knows. News about Jennie being roasted by the teacher after a student doused her with the realest true as fuck accusation is enough of a big deal to go around the school.” Yoongi tilts his head, “I just didn’t catch wind it was you.” 

                “Yeah, but,” Y/N self-consciously rubs her nape, “I just did what I felt was right. I don’t like it when people just stay silent when wrongdoings are deliberately happening in their faces.”

                “You’re right,” Yoongi smiles, “and because of that, I’m thinking I’m starting to admire you.” Y/N immediately freezes the heat on her chest back again. She feels it starting to spread up onto her face.

               Yoongi, either unaware of her reaction or plainly indifferent about it, just smirks and continues. “Now, that I finished my story with these terrible fucks, it’s your turn. What did they do that you striked these three names off?”

               Y/N lets a small smile grow on her lips as she crosses her arms. “It was Daewon who I striked first. As early as 7th grade, mind that. We were groupmates for our Bio experimental case study and he didn’t do a SINGLE thing. Very first year in high school and he’s already letting everyone know he’s a shitty groupmate. So end result? A slashed-off name and an immature ‘pity me’ cryfest in front of the professor.”

                “Who’s the professor, if you don’t mind me asking?”

               Y/N grins, “Mr. Ascott.”

                “Oh shit, Mr. Ascott?!” Yoongi chokes a laugh, “Oh my god, and he dared to cry and ask for pity! Of all people, to the prof who detests freeloading the most?!”

                “Yeah,” Y/N snickers, “That’s why it’s so hilarious! Imagine the what-the-fuck face Mr. Ascott has when this spoiled boy tried to cry his way out of his mistake. He looked like he’s about to blast harder than Mauna Kea!”

               Yoongi laughs, waving a hand over. “Who’s next?”

               Y/N blows out a sigh to die down her giggles, “The next one was Nayeon. 11th grade. We’re a pair this time and we’re tasked to make a research about the communication systems of a business. Whenever I tell her we need to meet up, write the paper, or even talk online for the planning at least, Nayeon kept on coming up with ridiculous excuses like how she’s come down with a fever because she ate a lot of rice or she can’t walk because of a motherfucking aching toenail. She even stood me up in the café I told her to go to, to finally get things done. Talking normally with her is impossible. So yeah, I passed the research with just my name on it.” 

               Y/N tilts her head, “And last but not the least, Jennie Kim. 12th grade. We had to make a lab report for Chemistry as a group. She said she’s sorry she won’t be able to contribute anything because she needs to be home soon as her mother is deeply sick in the hospital. We understood and told her it’s okay. Only for us to see in her Snapchat later she’s partying hard in a bar,” Y/N rolls her eyes, “But what irritates me most were ironically, not these.”

              “Did something more happen?”

              “Yes! These three didn’t see any of these as their faults! They saw it as me just being a bitch and picking on them! And because they have such loud mouths, news about me as a ‘name-remover bossy bitch’ traveled fast. Every first day in class per year, a lot of students are already looking at me funny. Throughout the school year, they go as far as ignoring and avoiding me.” YN crosses her arms and directs her eyes onto her empty bowl. “But I’m alright. I don’t care shit about what others have to say about me when I know I’m in the right. I don’t need lots of friends in the first place anyway.”

               “But it must have been hard to be alone.”

               Y/N’s head shoots up, “What do you mean?”

                “To be hated by almost everyone in the class,” Yoongi pulls a sad smile. “It must have been painful in a way. To be treated as an outcast when you didn’t even do anything wrong.”

               “I-I wouldn’t call myself an outcast during that time, you know?” Y/N picks up her glass to drink, looking away.

               “Well, if you say so. I just thought it would have been…difficult to be alone most of the time. To feel as if everyone hates you. Personally, I don’t care when people talk shit about me. But this feeling that everyone just…doesn’t want to be with you hits me quite hard. I don’t know if you’ve felt this. I just know I will feel like this if I was in your position.”

               Y/N, with eyes still trained away from Yoongi, just hums, “…Yeah.” 

               An awkward silence was starting to settle again until Yoongi breaks it with a sigh, “From all of this, I’m realizing our high school didn’t do a great job in giving us a wonderful experience.”

               Y/N turns back to him. She pours water in her glass and mutters, “You’re right. High school is shit.” She leans back in her chair, glass in her hand as she looks at him. “Do you have more bitter stories to tell?”

               Yoongi fiddles with his fingers. “Well, there’s one. I mean, there’s a lot because high school wasn’t that kind to people like me back then. But this one really stuck with me. I’ve been…friends with a lot of toxic people throughout high school. At first, I didn’t notice it. How they lowkey downgrade me whenever we hangout. How they always make me the butt of their jokes. How they always leave me out in any of their fun plans for getaways. I even tried justifying their actions, telling myself it’s probably I’m not yet too cool for them. That I still need to fit more with them. And when I finally realized the wrongness in this during one summer, I cut them all out in my life. Only to end up in another friend circle that turned out to be also toxic. Though it’s less toxic than my first one, it’s still toxic. They made me feel bad for doing my best in school, calling me such a conformist to the education system as if it’s so wrong. They made me feel horrible for just studying and preparing too much for quizzes and exams, telling me I’m just investing a lot of time on something I wouldn’t even use when I work. And for the second time, I justified my ‘friends.’ I thought maybe they’re right. I have to listen to them because maybe they’ll leave me and I will have no one else who’d be willing to be friends with me. I only got the wake-up call when my grades all fell down and I had to repeat 10th grade.”

               Y/N’s eyes grow large, “B-but, you said it was because of Thesis Writing?”

                “Yeah. Thesis Writing was the one that maimed me bad. But what led me to fail it so terribly was because of these second group of friends…Rina, Johnson, and Fei—

               Y/N immediately holds up her hands, “Wait, I-I-you don’t have to tell me their names if you don’t want to, Yoongi. You—I don’t know, maybe the memories come back and trigger you—I-I’m not that eager to know their names, you know? I just want to listen to you.”

               Yoongi chuckles and Y/N’s eyes only grow more. “I’m telling you their names because I already got over it, Y/N,” Yoongi informs. “I already feel comfortable telling this to you, sweetheart. Though I have to admit I’m loving what you said a little too much.”

               Y/N frowns, “Wh-why do you have to say stupid shit like this? Can’t you just continue your story?”

                “I have to say these because you’re being cute.” Y/N only frowns more. Yoongi chuckles, “Okay, okay, I’ll go back to my story.” He heaves out a sigh, “So, these Rina, Johnson, and Fei—well, they made me feel the efforts I put into studying will be pointless. That the dreams I have will be unattainable anyway because the world will never let them come true for people like me—not rich, not talented, not smart enough. And because of this mentality discouraging me whenever I try too hard, coupled with the messed-up confidence I had because of my first friendship circle, I turned out to be a…horrible speaker. But I think I shouldn’t blame them for this. I also have faults in this because after all, this is my life. Maybe I’m too easily swayed, easily discouraged, and too dependent on other’s company back then.”

                “You’re right on that,” Y/N says, “but I think the people who have affected you to be what you were back then are rightfully justified to be blamed for. Or even deserve the greater blame. We’re teenagers and we do stupid things. And during our teenage years where we feel so confused about just everything, what mattered the most was the feeling of belongingness. The feeling of belonging to someone or something. This feeling gives us a way to identify ourselves and our purpose. Erik Erikson’s Stages of Psychosocial Development even say so. Yeah, we also have faults in ourselves that are worth blaming for and working on, but people are social beings. And most of the time, we become who we are because of other’s words, actions, and influence,” Y/N pulls her lips in an attempt to send him a comforting smile, “You don’t have to beat up yourself too much.”

                “Whoa,” Yoongi gapes, “Just…wow.” He shakes his head, “I don’t even know what to say…And this is weird because I always know what to say,” Yoongi chuckles and Y/N follows suit. “I mean,” Yoongi tongues his cheek, “How did you come up with these?”

               “Because I also experienced having friends like you had.”

               You did?” It’s Yoongi’s turn to gawk at her.

               “Yeah,” Y/N purses her lips. “It was in high school too. Even if I was lucky I skipped 8th and 9th grade, I wasn’t immune to toxic people. The friends I had in my first year, honestly…scar me until now. They downed me too many times, too, telling me I’m not that good, or I’m too intimidating for people would like to be with. They even called me annoying,” Y/N cackles. But her laugh soon dies down when she looks at Yoongi’s unamused look. “U-um,” She ducks her head down and fiddles with the seams of her blazer, “That’s not really funny, I’m sorry.”

                “They’re not,” Yoongi deadpans, “Especially when it’s deprecating the person you should first and foremost care: You.”

               Y/N’s head shoots up.

               Yoongi lets a small smile grace over his face. “Go on with your story.”

               “U-uh, yeah,” Y/N opts to play with her fingers this time, “So yeah, I ended up…downing myself, too. Berating and insulting myself even worse than those toxic people did. I even discouraged myself from even trying. I stopped myself before I even get to start at something that induces passion within me—dance, art, singing, whatever. I halt myself first before anyone can. Other’s words against me hurt me more than my own words. The only silver lining I had was when I got to 10th grade and met Mina,” Y/N grins. “Even if I still get reminded of the scars I got from my ex-friends, I’m grateful I also learned what’s it really like to have a friend for the first time.” Y/N turns to Yoongi, “What about you? Did you find at least…one friend before high school ended?”

                “More than one actually,” Yoongi smiles. “I met three in 11th grade. Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin. Even if Namjoon graduated earlier, we three eventually met each other again in college. God, ever since I befriended those three, I never knew again what it’s like to be a loner. I know it’s kinda late that I get to enjoy high school but I had the most fun I could ever have in those last two years. Though college is still god-tier. That’s when I was really the happiest” Yoongi chuckles. He leans back in his chair and sighs, “Even if the majority of the memories our high school gave us were shit, I think it still tried its best to give everyone a memorable experience.” Yoongi smiles, “What’s a memorable experience you could thank the school for?”

               Y/N opens her mouth but Yoongi quickly cuts her short, “And no, don’t say it’s meeting real friends. Other than that, any memorable experiences you had?”

               Y/N looks to her right, brows scrunched, “Hmm…it had to be…Oh! The science expo held in our gym in our last year!”

                “The expo?  The one they held as our ‘field trip’—in our very last year of high school at that—because they ‘lack’ funds for an actual one?”

                “Yeah,” Y/N smiles wide, “I actually enjoyed it a lot. There’s a large model of the Megalodon jaws wide open that you have to step into to enter the expo. Its teeth are so big and gosh, I love sharks. I love the documentaries about them. And oh, there’s also a bus that’s remodeled to have lab tables instead of seats. We get to look at microscopes magnifying different microorganisms and micro-things. It’s like a running test in chem but fun! And my favorite one had to be the astronomy tent-dome. I call it that because it’s a humongous black sheet of a tent that’s shaped to look like a dome. We had to crawl inside to get in. It reminded me of how I loved to play pillow forts in my room when I was a kid. And then inside, there’s someone there who actually works at NASA that plays the videos of constellations on the dome above us. And he’s amazing because he knows all the stars in the Milky Way! He even broke the myth concerning your birth month and Zodiac sign. The constellations of your Zodiac sign don’t usually appear during your ‘zodiac month’!”

               “They don’t?”

               “Yeah! I’m an Aries and yet the constellation most apparent in the sky during my month is Libra instead. I’ve never seen the Aries constellation before on my birthday. It’s always Libra. Okay, don’t look at me like I’m a hoe for Astrology—I’m not. I just fell in love with Astronomy after that expo and I ended up memorizing a lot of constellations and trying to point them out in the sky and—

               “I’m not looking at you like you’re a ‘hoe for Astrology,’” Yoongi quotes, chuckling. “I’m looking at you because honestly, I’m amazed by you. Really. I never enjoyed that expo, because honestly, I like learning the actual stuff in real-time. But to have you spouting such mindblowing trivia and how you just talk so animatedly about it makes me want to time travel to that day and re-experience it. Really, you amaze me.

               Y/N coughs into her hand, an attempt to out-volume the thrumming tinnitus she feels between her lungs. She pulls a tight smile and looks up at Yoongi, “What about you? What memorable experience did you have to thank high school for?”

               “The prom,” Yoongi grins. “It’s my first time to be in such a glamorous setting that I instantly thought it would be my last time I could ever experience such pizzaz. Everyone looked so regal. There are ball gowns, luxurious suits, glittering decors, and lush carpeting I could spend years standing on just because it feels so pillowy soft beneath my feet. The venue had gothic pillars and renaissance paintings and rose-gold gilded chandeliers that hang above, looking like it hooked all the stars in the galaxy beneath its dangling diamonds. The food was great, too. I honestly couldn’t believe a public high school could afford this—well, there’s actually a lot of upper-middle-class families who pitched in some money but I only found out about this two weeks after the prom. Although we had a grad ball, it still couldn’t top 10th-grade prom. Sure, there’s a lot of people mingling and I’m too much of an introvert to enjoy socializing. But when I just sat and watch the party go, the picture in front of me looked so similar to the Yule Ball shown in the Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire movie and it’s just so fascinating. And—wait, why are you looking like that?”

                “N-nothing,” Y/N shakes her head. She also hopes to shake away the utter wonder that must be obvious in her face. Mina always said she shows excitement so easily on her face.

               And too bad Yoongi pushes her buttons so well that he could easily read her. “What ‘nothing’? You look so amazed as if you’ve never been to a prom—wait, you’ve never been to prom, haven’t you?” 

              There’s no point to lie otherwise. Y/N looks down at her lap and admits, “You’re right. I’ve never been to prom. Or even the grad ball.”

              “Why?”

              “Because I find them a waste of money. Hundreds of money for a dress you’ll never wear again and spend a couple more for the admission when you’re just gonna sit at the table for the whole time. The grad ball was an inconvenience because it’s set on the day before my birthday and of course, my birthday is worth celebrating more than the grad ball.” Yoongi chuckles at that and a small smile forms on Y/N’s lips. However, it quickly dissolves into a straight line as she continues, “And I didn’t go to prom because it’s stupid. The admission fee you have to pay is honestly over-priced. Of course, all of the payment won’t go to the rented place because the school is still gonna get a percentage from it. Then everyone is just gonna dance around and get wasted and you’ll just have to seat throughout the whole meltdown because you’re responsible and aside from that,” Y/N heaves out a huge sigh, “there’s a high probability you’ll bump into a horrible boy.”

              “Oh!” Yoongi claps loudly, “A boy problem—!”

               “I’m not gonna tell you his name,” Y/N points a finger at him. “It’s all in the past and, I’m just,” Y/N sighs, “well, over it.”

               “What did he do?” Yoongi asks, tone soft, a lot less bombastic as his previous exclamation. “What did he do to—I don’t know, give up prom to avoid him?” He sits up straight and holds up his hands, “If you don’t mind me asking and if you feel okay to answer it, of course. If not, it’s also totally okay, and—” 

               “He gave me false hope,” Y/N deadpans, swirling the water in her glass. “I thought there’s something developing between us because he does an awful lot of sweet things for me like letting me lay my head on his shoulder whenever I need to catch on some sleep in our school service. He even helps me carry my things and walk me to class. Only for me to find out he actually likes another girl in our school service. I felt used. Like a ploy to get the girl he likes to be jealous of us.” Y/N sets her jaw on her palm. “And so, I didn’t go to prom. Because I know that girl will reject him when he asked for her first dance ‘cus she already got a mutual thing going on with her classmate. And I don’t want to be a second choice, a back-up plan someone will opt for when their first choice didn’t work out. I’m not going to be a reserve part for something someone built with a different part in mind.” Y/N takes a sip on her glass. She places it back on the table, “I still feel aggravation for him so I don’t want to hear his name again. But I’m over him now, so you don’t have to look at me like that.”

               “L-like what?” Yoongi asks, pulling on the collar of his gray button-down.

               “Like you’re angry for me. We’re not yet close to be feeling this way.”

               “But we’re friends.”

               “You’re the only one who decided on that label.”

               “We are friends.”

               “Whatever satisfies you of your delusions—”

               “And because we’re friends, I could tell you wished you experienced prom.”

               “W-what?” Y/N’s jaw drops.

               Yoongi smiles at her, “You don’t have to hide it Y/N. I know you.” He stands up from his seat and offers a hand to her, “Now, let’s go.”

               “Where are we going?” Y/N asks, still seated.

               “We’ll dance.” Yoongi’s smile widens. “The Café Bistro has a wonderful live band playing and as you can see, there’s also a lot of people dancing to the lovely songs they’re playing…This is the closest setting we can have to a prom.”

               Y/N gulps down a nervous breath as she looks up at Yoongi’s eyes. She takes his hand.

               Yoongi leads her to the center of the slow-dancing throng of people. The live band plays in front of them, a group of wonderful men and women wearing elegant black gowns and suits, playing classical instruments to the music of popular love songs. Everything looks pleasant even if nothing about this set-up is grand. The couples are just in casual clothes but watching them have fun slow-dancing to the music feels like they’re actually in a ball. And the faux candles that hung above the Café Bistro doesn’t look like chandeliers in a Gothic palace anymore. They’re bright and glittering as if the café fished all the stars from the night sky to hang onto their own makeshift sky. Yoongi’s right. This indeed looks like a prom.

               “Hmm, am I right now?”

               Y/N turns to him and playfully pokes his shoulder, “Shut up.” A second no longer need to pass by when a huge smile makes its way onto Y/N’s face.

               Y/N and Yoongi had their hands interlocked as they move to the rhythm. Yoongi initially proposed to have their hands and feet positioned for waltz only for Y/N to bump her head on his shoulder to get him to shut up. Yoongi only ends up cackling obnoxiously. 

              Stepping side to side, arms swaying by their sides, they look like two adult penguins waddling towards each other. When Y/N pointed this out, Yoongi bursts into another set of cackles.

               However, when the song changes and A Thousand Years by Christina Perri starts to play, Yoongi’s chuckles instantly die down and a mindboggling statement escapes from his lips.

               “Put your hands around my neck.”

               “What? Are you fucking crazy?”

               “Hey, the song is romantic.”

              “So?” Y/N raises a brow, “What does it logically have to do with putting my arms around your neck? And also, this song is one hell of a cliché. A love song bulldozered and abused over and over again in every debut, wedding, and prom—”

              “It’s played over and over again because a lot of people relate to it. Who wouldn’t? It talks about love.”

              “Well, I wouldn’t.”

              Yoongi sighs, “Look, all the couples here are slow dancing to this song and since we’re already posing as one, might as well copy them.”

              “Well, I don’t wanna.”

              “If you’re thinking this will be a revolutionary moment between us, I’m already informing you it won’t be. It’s just slow dancing,” Yoongi shrugs, “We did this in prom. It’s not that special, to be honest. I’m tryna offer you the prom experience, remember?”

              Y/N focuses her eyes on the seams of her blazer, a petty frown on her face. “I’m positively sure we’ll look stupid if we slow dance so I’d rather not. In case you don’t know, I hate embarrassing myself.”

               “Hey, you don’t get to sound so sure with your prediction when you haven’t tried it out yet. I’m just asking you if you would feel okay to slow dance with me. But if not, I will totally understand—” 

               Y/N loops her arms around Yoongi’s neck. “There,” she hisses, “Satisfied?”

              “Very,” Yoongi grins, looping his arms around her frame, gently placing his hands on the back of her waist.

              “Now shut up,” Y/N turns her face away from him. She could feel Yoongi so close. She could feel the breath he lets out comb past her hair. She could feel the warmth from his neck seemingly transfer onto her hands. His chest is just an inch apart from hers for him to discover the rapid beating reverberating there ever since this day started. Y/N closes her eyes and sighs. She doesn’t understand why she’s feeling this way. She chucks it down to the theory that it’s just been a long day. She’s astounded to learn Yoongi was her high school batchmate, then Myungsoo turned up and made her frustrated, and now she’s practically having fun because Yoongi offered an entire 180 from her previous emotional state. 

              But maybe it’s also because it’s been so long since Y/N received physical intimacy. It’s been ages she felt a warmth from another person’s touch. She couldn’t even remember being so enthralled just because someone platonically wanted to dance with her. But then, it could just be her desire to get over these ten dates required by DRM speaking for her body. The sooner the better they say and as of now, she’s nailing down their third date document.

              Y/N knows this must be the answer when the night deepens and the band plays the last song for the night. After receiving a pale pink envelope from the sweet manager, the night dwindles fast to where she is now: walking home, side by side with Yoongi. She thought there was a reason Yoongi picked a date site that would require them to take a train first. She just didn’t expect she will get the answer to this when Yoongi offered to walk her home. ‘It just a ten-minute walk from here,’ Yoongi insisted. And right now, it looks like he’s right because it’s only a matter of time until they reach the entrance of the Village Estates.

               “So, we’re here now,” Yoongi says, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. 

               “Yeah,” Y/N smiles back. Then she perks up, suddenly remembering something, “By the way, how come did you know about Café Bistro?”

               Yoongi leans toward her, face leveling hers. “We work for a travel magazine, Y/N. Of course, we should know about this stuff. Our Writing Department even did a feature about it.” Y/N’s brows shoot up. Yoongi leans back, putting space between them again, “I’ve been wondering ever since we got in as to why you looked so amazed at the Bistro as if it’s your first time seeing something like that. And now I know why. It is indeed your first time. You’ve never been to a lot of tourist spots before, much less even those near you.”

               “No. I’ve been to a lot, actually,” Y/N lies through her mouth.

               “I don’t think so,” Yoongi quips. Y/N frowns. Yoongi’s smile widens, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take you to places you’ve never been before.”

               His gaze on her was not teasing, nor was it mischievous. And Y/N decides she doesn’t like it when she can’t tell the look in his eyes. She takes a step back and clears her throat. “Goodnight, Yoongi,” she bids, and then she starts for the entrance.

               Just when the peace of the night is about to settle on her, Yoongi, of course, decides to break it one last time.

               “I had fun tonight, girlfriend! Or should I say girl-friend?”

               Y/N continues with her steps, raising a middle finger in his direction. Yoongi laughs and that’s the last sound Y/N hears for the night as she enters her empty flat. 

              A text from Mina says she’s going home in an hour. After preparing her bestfriend a midnight snack just in case she’s still hungry, Y/N turns on the lights on their hallway and resigns herself in her room. Picking the date document from her bag and the other two on her counter, Y/N plops onto her bed, holding up the pale pink envelopes above her face. It’s been a while since she had fun collecting these pretty envelopes. When she first encountered these date documents five years ago, she thought they were silly. But as she twirls them under the light of her room, she thinks they’re actually genius. After all, attention and quality time spent together are good measures to see if a couple is really dating.

              “We just need seven more,” Y/N whispers, closing her eyes. As the starless night grows darker outside her window, the coffee-stained scent of today’s pale pink envelope lulls Y/N to sleep with a smile on her face.

DAY 5 — January 30; Thursday

               Y/N is at her wit’s end. It’s already 12 in the noon and nothing terrible has happened yet. It’s Thursday. Thursdays are supposed to already have it bad for her the moment the day starts. But Y/N woke up feeling nice from a good night’s sleep. It was early so she had a fun breakfast with her bestfriend where they spent an extra half-hour talking about each other’s dates. Though it sounded more like Mina’s the only one who went to an actual date because Y/N spent the majority of her turn to speak ranting about Yoongi’s smugness and whatnot. The train wasn’t crowded when she commuted to work. She and Mina even managed to get seats at seven. And in the office, nothing unwanted has happened yet. Well, of course, there’s Yoongi who still won’t stop sending her weird texts and occasional winks.  Everything is okay and normal as usual until—

               “Hey, Y/N, wanna have lunch with us?”

               Y/N turns in her swivel chair and there standing by the Accounting’s glass door were three people. Dana Lee, Jeff Anderson, and Ahn Seojoon.

               Dana continues, smiling at her, “If you didn’t have lunch yet, of course.”

               Y/N whirls to face Mina before turning around back to Dana, forehead furrowed, “I’m sorry, Dana, Mina and I already have—” 

               “No, Y/N hasn’t lunched yet!”

               Y/N whips her head to her bestfriend. Mina smiles at her, “Y/N, you should go ahead.”

              Y/N sighs, “But Mina, you would be alone today. We always eat lunch together. And aren’t you supposed to tell me more of what happened in the show you’re watching?”

              Mina claps her friend’s shoulder, “Y/N, it’s alright. We see each other in and outside the office every day. We can just talk later when you get home. Or tomorrow if you end up having another date tonight with Yoongi. After all, you told me before you want to have more friends in the office. Well, here is the chance!”

              “What chance are you talking about? And when the hell did I say I want more friends—”

              “Dana,” Mina hollers, “Y/N said she’ll go!” 

              This chance, however, was not what Y/N expected it to be. Because now, Y/N finds herself in some Mexican restaurant with three pairs of curious eyes focused on her and an unexpected guest sitting beside her.

               Y/N crosses her arms. “You didn’t tell me Yoongi would be here.”                “Well, surprise?” Jeff shrugs.

               “We figured since you and Mr. Min are…really close, why not invite him?” Seojoon explains. 

              “So,” Dana twirls her straw around her smoothie, “what’s the thing between you and Yoongi?”

               Y/N perks up in her seat. Jeff gawks at Dana. “Why did you have to be so straightforward about it?”

               “So we can finally get the answers we’ve all been waiting for,” Dana says matter-of-factly. “For one year these two are like oil and water. And then this week they’ve become chummy-chummy. I always knew there’s something going on between you two but I can never point it out. And now that you two decided to come out in the open, I guess I can also finally get my answers.” She turns back to Y/N, “So, what are you two really?”

               “Yoongi’s my, um, special friend—” 

               “Y/N’s my girlfriend—”

               Dana’s brows twitch. Yoongi quickly reaches over to pinch Y/N’s cheeks, “Oh sweetheart, you don’t need to feel so shy anymore. We’re no longer special friends so start feeling comfy to call yourself my girlfriend.”

               Seojoon coughs into his hand. Dana and Jeff slowly nod. Jeff leans forward, “So…how did you two meet?”

              “In high school. We’re kinda friends—” 

              “In the office. It’s love at first sight—” 

               Y/N eyes Yoongi. Yoongi grins. Y/N looks back at Jeff, but not without pinching Yoongi’s leg to stop him from spouting any more bullshit. Y/N smiles, “Yoongi and I met back in high school. We were batchmates.”

               “Oh, high school sweethearts!” Seojoon claps, grinning.

               “Not necessarily,” Y/N says, “We just kinda knew each other back then. And then we met each other again in Travel Loca.”

               “I see,” Dana holds her chin, as if in thought, “You two sure looked like you’ve known each other for so long…You know each other so well that you get to hit each other’s flaws so accurately whenever you bicker. Right?” Dana looks at Y/N.

               “Right,” Y/N grins. She unconsciously gulps down a nervous chuckle. “I-it wouldn’t make sense if we insult each other so well when we don’t know each other for a long time right? More even, fall in love?”

               From the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Yoongi’s head tilt, lips pursed together. It’s his face when he’s about to voice disagreement. She pinches his leg again to get him back to his senses.

               “Ye-yeah,” Yoongi stutters, “You must know a person for a long time before you can insult them well. Or love them.”

               Dana and Jeff nod their heads slowly, looking convinced. Except for Seojoon. The intern shakes his head, “I think not. You don’t need to know a person for a long time to fall in love. Or to even insult them. Hate or love—it just happens.”

               “Yeah,” Jeff agrees. “I think this felt more right. It doesn’t really require you long to hate another person for some unexplainable reason. Or fall in love with them.”

               “How did you know about this?” Y/N asks, clicking her tongue.

               Jeff looks unbothered by the questioning look on Y/N’s face. He leans back in his seat with a smile, “Because that’s how my girlfriend and I got together. We only knew each other for three weeks and it didn’t take me a day longer to know I’m whipped for her. In those three weeks, we even spent the first week really hating each other bad,” Jeff chuckles, “We used to scream at each other for hours across the windows of our apartments.”

               The furrows in Y/N’s forehead deepen, “B-but, how did you love her when you just hated her a week ago?”

               “Because love and hate have a lot of similarities,” Jeff says. “I think there’s a fine line between such differing emotions. People say it’s an end-to-end spectrum but I think that spectrum may not be as long as people make it out to be. I think they’re just two ends that sit opposite to each other. Anyone can cross from one to another and vice versa so easily. Kinda explains why you can love someone while also hating them a bit. And why you can hate or love something for so long and not consider changing your stance. Even if love is just a bridge away, its whole argument opposes the argument of hate. That’s why it feels the spectrum of love is a very long road to take—a wall too high to reach, making it hard for transitioning from one end to another. But, I don’t know,” Jeff shrugs, grinning. “Life is complex. Sometimes love and hate…just happens.”

               Seojoon and Dana nod slowly. However, Y/N feels otherwise. ‘Easy and hard to cross’? ‘It just happens’? What kind of nonsense is this—Y/N opens her mouth to argue—If not for Yoongi clasping a hand around her shoulders and urging her to stand up from her seat, “I’ll think we’ll order more tacos for us. My treat. We’ll be real quick.”

               Yoongi drags Y/N to the line forming in front of the cashier. When they’re a couple of steps away from the group, Y/N shrugs his arms away from her shoulders. She glares at him, “What do you think are you doing?”

               Yoongi tongues his cheek, “I should be the one asking you that! What do you think are you doing there? Trying to argue with my friends about something so trivial like Jeff’s perception of love? It’s his views, let him be!”

               Y/N crosses her arms, “Jeff is spouting nonsense. I just felt the need to correct him.”

               “How would you know Jeff is spouting nonsense? You’re not the one who fell in love with his neighbor he used to scream at across his flat.”

               Y/N looks down at her shoes, “Okay…I’m sorry. I know, I know, I’m being a bitch again.”

               Yoongi gapes at her, “W-wait, are you apologizing? You? The great Y/N L/N?”

               Y/N whips her head to him, pinning him with a glare, “Why? You think I’m incapable of apologizing?”

               “Nope,” Yoongi quips, smiling, “I’m just thinking how fast you grew. It was just two days ago you’re struggling so hard to apologize. Now, you just easily admitted to your mistake. I’m proud of you.”

               Y/N’s jaw goes slack. “Are you saying I’m an unapologetic bastard to everyone before?”

               “To me actually,” Yoongi corrects. “But that was back then. You’re quite…more okay now.”

               Y/N gawks at him in disbelief. But before she could utter another counter-statement, Yoongi’s already in front of the cashier, ordering for another platter of tacos. When they got back to their seats, the past conversation seems to have already dissipated. Yoongi starts the conversation this time about what they used to do in high school and college and soon enough, their table is erupting with giggles and high-pitched ‘Oh no you didn’t!” Y/N learned Jeff used to study in an art school. Seojoon used to join competitive pep squad rallies in college. And, Dana chose Travel Loca from a lot of tempting job offers because like Y/N, Dana likes Nancy’s vision for travel journalism as a travel-enthusiast like herself. Likewise, the three were enthusiastic in knowing Y/N—how she managed to skip two years of high school, her one-sided love for music because she cannot, for the life of her, play even a single instrument, and how she has so many random facts about the flower language, color theories, cooking techniques—hell even some trivia about the praying mantis—all because of reading a lot of books. Yoongi even chipped in of how great she can turn scenarios in a completely different one just because of her creative way of seeing things, to which Y/N blushes. The memory of their fast food drive-in date oddly makes her insides queasy.

              It’s been a while since Y/N felt she belonged to a group that values her skills and preferences. Moreover, to have Yoongi be so generous in hyping her up whenever it’s her turn to speak makes her feel a blanket of warmth is surrounding her. A warmth much heart-fluttering than the one provided by his arm embracing her shoulder and his occasional hand-holding. When she first felt his pinky reaching for hers, Y/N’s first instinct was to move away. But the tingling heat creeping onto her cheeks oddly makes her not want to let go. Moreso when Yoongi finally envelops her whole hand with his larger one.

               Y/N doesn’t know how long they last like that but when Yoongi moves to disentangle himself from her, Y/N feels the warmth in her chest fade too fast than she liked. She turns to him curious, before her eyes glance at the wall clock of the restaurant in the corner. It’s already one forty-five. She didn’t know the time has passed so fast. Yoongi gets up from his seat, “You can go ahead outside. I’ll just get something from the cashier.”

               Y/N looks at him with a questioning gaze. Nevertheless, she turns back to her seat and wordlessly follows Dana, Jeff, and Seojoon as they exit the restaurant. Once outside, Dana suddenly turns toward her.

               “You and Mr. Min look like you’re still newbies in dating.”

               Y/N’s eyes widen, “U-uh, how did you say so?”

               “Because you two look like you’re still tiptoeing around each other whenever one initiates some skinship,” Dana shrugs. “Don’t worry. It’s always like that at the start of a relationship.”

               “Yeah. You two might want to start transferring the intensity in your eyes to some physical touchy-touching,” Seojoon suggests, only to get playfully hit on the head by Jeff. Seojoon rubs the sore spot, “What? I’m just saying the truth! It’s normal to crave physical intimacy. Touching and being near someone you love is an inherent need!”

               “Yeah, but they’re just starting, Seojoon,” Jeff reiterates. He turns to Y/N, “Why don’t you try going to a bar?”

               “A bar?” Y/N asks, eyes wide.

               “Yeah, a bar. There’s a nice one along 11th Avenue. Neo-Cloud 9. Great place and drinks, cheap price. Oh, and amazing music. Their DJs don’t play the typical LSD-inducing club music. You two need to loosen up, you know? It’s not good to always hole yourselves at work. And also,” a Cheshire smile grows on Jeff’s lips, “Yoongi loves to drink alcohol after a long day. He just seems like the bar-type of a guy.”

               Before Y/N can ask what he means, the door of the restaurant swings open. Yoongi grins at them, “Let’s get going now.” The three nod and walk ahead, Jeff and Seojoon laughing about something again with Dana playfully hitting them to tell them to shut up. 

              Yoongi walks ahead of Y/N to turn around and walk backward on the pavement, facing the girl. Y/N raises a brow at him. 

              Yoongi grins and pulls out a pale pink envelope before falling back into step with her. “I thought of asking for a date document since we’re quite being handsy in there. Good thing the cashier saw it, too. Even said we’re cute for being shy in holding each other’s hands.” Yoongi wiggles his brows, smirking. “Didn’t know we’re being cute, sweetheart.”  

              “…Yeah,” Y/N looks away, lips pursed.

               “Are you sure you want to date here?”

               The street is bustling alive. Neon signs hang from all walls and awnings. Street arts bask in matte or glow-in-the-dark spray paint. The smell of alcohol, cigarette stench, and the delicious smell of sizzling plates compound together and yet it isn’t acrid to the nose; it’s oddly alluring. All the stars in the sky seem to have fallen down on the streets because all sorts of lights try to illuminate every inch of the pavement. It’s 11th Avenue. The place with different people from all sorts of places. Foreigners and locals piling in different corners. There are people who look newly-legal, celebrating their privilege in reaching 21. And there are some dressed over-the-top, ready to spend the whole night getting wasted. Bands of friends also jump into the mix, hoping to have fun clubbing and drinking and maybe meeting someone new. And there are also people who look like they’ve just gotten off from work. Like them.

               Y/N turns to Yoongi, unbuckling her seat belt. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

               The interior of Neo-Cloud 9 is far from its name. Y/N expected to have all sorts of pleasure-in-bottles lined up like the perfect temptation, a pit filled with heavenly decors and people, a place you wouldn’t want to get out of. But what she only gets is a classic bar and club, walls painted in grey softened by the bright moving lights. A marble-black bar stands in the right corner containing all sorts of imaginable liquor. The floor is carpeted in starry black, and the seats and booths are covered in lush-looking leather. There are people in dressy suits seated comfy in their faux silver tables in one corner, and there are some moving to the beat on the dance floor. But the bar doesn’t look wild or something that could scream fantastical luxury, much less ‘Cloud 9.’ Jeff must be right. This looks like a good place with good drinks, all for a cheap price. 

               It doesn’t take long for Y/N to find themselves seated in a booth, a footed pilsner of mojito in front of her a shot glass and a bottle of tequila in front of Yoongi. 

               Y/N takes small sips of her drink. Yoongi downs a shot. He picks up the lime on the plate and chews on it. When he’s finished a piece of his chaser, he looks at Y/N. “Why did you want to go here?”

               “Well…I’ve never been to a bar before.”

               “You’ve never been to a bar?” Yoongi gawks, placing his glass down on the table. “Like, ever?”

               “Nope.” Y/N places her glass on the table and looks at Yoongi, “And I’ve never drunk any alcohol before.”

               “This is your first time?”

               “Yup. My parents told me not to drink while I’m studying. And coincidentally, I’ve never liked the concept of drinking so…good for them. I’ve never liked parties and places like this.”

               “Then why did we go here?”

               “Because Jeff told me you like to drink.”

               “I do like drinking,” Yoongi nods, “but I wouldn’t insist to go here if you never liked places like this.”

               “Yeah, I don’t like places like this. But it doesn’t hurt to get at least experience from it, right?” Y/N raises her brows and sips on her glass.

               Silence fills the space between them. Y/N orders another glass of mojito. And another. Yoongi warns her she might get drunk too fast. /N disagrees and the stable tone in her voice supports her argument. Meanwhile, Yoongi had already tried raising a conversation topic about five times now. “Another person to rant about in high school?” “Any memories of childhood?” “What got you into loving writing?”—hell, he even tried to pick a fight by bringing up Y/N’s predicament under Nancy, but all of them ended in conversational dead-ends. Either Y/N answers in replies designed for the finality of a conversation, or she switches the topic to a trivial one, such as what he thinks of Kylie Jenner’s plastic surgeries. What only seems to pass through were shallow one-worded answer questions.

               “Uno or Monopoly?”

               “Uno.”

               It’s even fortunate if Yoongi could get Y/N to expand her answer.

               “Would you rather be a…book or a car?”

               “What does that even mean?” Y/N cackles.

               “Just answer!”

               “Okay, a book!”

               But it’s fine for him. It’s better than having nothing.

               “Okay, do you dislike…being sweaty?”

               “Nope. You?”

               “Also no,” Yoongi chuckles. He crosses his arms on the table, “Do you like to play crane games in arcades?”

               “Hmm, yes…But only if someone will win it for me. I suck at it. And it’s a waste of money, too,” Y/N bites on a chip. “What about you? Do you like playing it?”

               “Not if I’m alone. If I had somebody with me, I sure like it. I love feeling somebody getting thrilled with me.”

              Y/N looks down at her glass. She traces its rim with a finger, “We’ve already got four date documents.”

               “Yeah,” Yoongi brings up his glass to his mouth. “But why are you suddenly bringing it up?”

              “Just clarifying what we’re here for.”

              Yoongi’s hand stills.

              Y/N sighs, “We have to keep our eyes on the goal, okay? After all, we’re just doing this stuff to get approved for the PRS-change.” Y/N focuses her eyes on her hands, “We’re doing okay with the date documents. But we need to worry about the accounts of our relationship witnesses. I’ve only got Mina and of course, Ms. Teddy. But that’s only two. We need eight more—”

              “We only need five more,” Yoongi places down his glass on the table, “We’ve already got Dana, Jeff, and Seojoon roped in, too. Actually, four more, because Ms. Yoona already believes we’re into each other the day I re-introduced you. We already have six.”

              “How are you sure about that?”

              “Didn’t Ms. Yoona bid you good luck with me?”

              Y/N’s jaw falls slack. “H-how did you know that? I-I thought you only heard Jeff and Seojoon that night?”

              “I was already standing near the door. Of course, I heard everything. That’s why I know you’re denying we’re into each other. Put us up to fail,” Yoongi meets her eyes, “Again.”

              Y/N stares at him.

              “We’ve already got Dana, Seojoon, and Jeff for sure. Dana was asking me earlier about the intimacy in the break room yesterday. Seojoon and Jeff eat up any gossip Dana feeds them. Plus, those three are my friends. So if we’ll need to be desperate, I can put up an act and request them to write for us.”  Yoongi looks away and downs a shot, “But I think what we did in the restaurant was already enough. I don’t know what other act could be more convincing than that.” 

              Y/N hums. After that, silence again. It doesn’t last long though, not until her 5th order of mojito is placed on their table. But instead of uttering a word, Y/N makes a move to snatch the shot glass of tequila in front of Yoongi. 

              “What are you doing?” Yoongi raises a brow, placing his glass farther away from her reach.

              Y/N only continues to make grabby hands at him. “I’ve only been drinking cocktails this whole night. Wanna taste some hard liquor, too, y’know?”

              “Y/N,” Yoongi sighs, “You’re gonna get drunk. Your house is far from here.”

              “So?” Y/N tilts her head. “You borrowed Steven’s car tonight. You’re gonna drive me home anyway. Drunk or not.”

              “Yeah, but you told me earlier Mina is gonna sleep over at Mark’s. And I cannot carry you up to your apartment—should you get drunk— because if you’re wasted, you cannot confirm to your security you actually know me if I were to help you get in your flat. And that  won’t ever happen because not in a million years will I carry your fat ass in any possible chance—” 

              “Yaddah, yaddah, blah, blah, blah,” Y/N leans forward on the table. “You always have something to say, no, Yoongi?”

              Yoongi clicks his tongue. “As if you’re not also like that.”

              “You don’t need to worry,” Y/N waves off. “Surprisingly, I’m not yet drunk. See?”

              Yoongi gulps. It’s hard to argue otherwise if Y/N knows she indeed looks and sounds very sober.

              “So,” Y/N reaches for his shot glass again, “why can’t you just let me have a taste of tequila? It’s my first time after all. I just wanna experience what I’ve missed on during high school and college.”

              That’s all it takes for Yoongi to sigh and finally relent. Soon enough, Y/N is almost bouncing on her seat as she triumphantly places the tequila-filled shot glass in front of her. With a grin, Y/N picks a lime on the saucer and hovers it above her drink and—

               Yoongi catches her elbow. “That’s not how you do it.” He scoots across the booth to sit next to her. He gets the lime from her hands, “You don’t drop the lime in your drink like you’re trying to make lime water. You dip your hand in salt first and suck it.” He pushes the plate of salt towards her. 

              Y/N looks at him funny. Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You said this is your first time drinking. I’m just trying to teach you how it’s supposed to go so it would taste better. Look,” Yoongi points to her shot glass, “the tequila is distilled so it has a high percentage of alcohol. It’s a hard liquor and will definitely make a different burn in your throat than your mojitos. The salt is gonna lessen that burn. Now, just dip a finger in the salt and suck it.”

              Y/N gives him one more suspicious look but follows nevertheless. 

              “Now, take a shot of your tequila.”

              Y/N smiles, placing the rim of the glass on her lips. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, downing the drink in one go. When she looks back at Yoongi, indeed, a different burn is lining down her throat. It felt like someone lit a match inside her esophagus and let the flame lick the muscles and nerves of her neck. 

              Before Y/N could let her jaw drop and ask Yoongi what the fuck did she just take in, Yoongi places the slice of lime next to her lips. “Bite on the lime.” She looks at him. Yoongi’s shoulder is brushing next to hers. He’s leaning close to her, face hovering hers. Just an inch more and her nose will graze the tip of his nose. He’s also got his hand close on her face. She could feel his thumb almost brush her lips as he holds the lime in front of her. And his eyes—Y/N tears her gaze from him. She snatches the lime from his hand and bites on it.

               Yoongi pulls away, chuckling, “See? It tasted much better now. The sourness of lime balances and enhances the flavor of tequila.”

               Y/N only nods.

               They spend the rest of the night with Yoongi teaching her different terms in drinking, and her trying out sips of the drinks Yoongi orders for himself. It was all okay. Y/N’s having fun, learning and enjoying the drinks. It’s a wonder she’s still sober considering it’s her first time drinking and she’s already got a couple of drinks down her system. Her eyes are still steady, her posture stable. Heck, her voice even sounds as if it a minute has only passed since they entered Neo-Cloud 9. 

               “C’mon, Yoongi, let’s dance.”

               Yoongi should have not been over-confident in his perceptions. The moment Y/N steps out from her side, she stumbles toward him, almost completely faceplanting on his chest.

               “Y/N,” Yoongi pushes her up, “You’re drunk. Fuck, I told you you’re gonna get drunk. I think we should head home now—” 

               “No! Wanna dance, Min Yoongi!” Y/N suddenly stands upright, almost tripping on her shoes. She grins, “Let’s just do one song and after that Imma go home. Please, Yoongi?”

               “Y/N—”

               “Please, Yoongiiiii?” Y/N clasps her hands together, “Pleassseee?” 

               “Y/N—”

               “Just one song! Or else I would call you mean Yoongi from now on,” she crosses her arms, “Just one is all I’m asking. Wanna experience that party feel for the very first time. We don’t even have to do a rave dance. We can just slow dance if you like!”

               This is the reason why Yoongi finds himself dancing something akin to waltz to a song about partying as if it’s 2012. It’s not that bad, though. Not when he’s not alone dancing un-synced to the song with Y/N almost completely hanging on his limbs like a sloth. Some occasional seconds, she even gets the audacity to place her head on his chest. Yoongi cannot help but pull a small smile on his lips.

               The lights above the dance floor are in the colors of sunset and dawn and they move and merge like cells undergoing mitosis. It feels simultaneously alienating and comforting and Y/N isn’t really sure if she likes it or not. She just feels warm all over. Warm in her toes. Warm in her belly. Warm in her throat. Warm in her hands. Warm in her chest. Just…warm. Too comfortingly warm and she doesn’t know if it’s all just thanks to the alcohol. 

               “Hey, Y/N, the song is about to end now.”

               “Just one more,” Y/N mutters. She places her head against his shoulder.

               Yoongi hums. The song finally changes. A few beats in and Y/N stops in her tracks.  It’s The Louvre by Lorde.

              But lover, you’re the one to blame, all that you’re doing

              Can you hear the violence?

              Megaphone to my chest.

               Y/N looks up. Yoongi’s face is above her, almost hovering hers. The warm sunset-colored lights pass over his features, highlighting the seeming stylishness of his unkempt hair, the small existent ridges on his plump cheeks, and the soft-looking curve of his lips that’s more often than not pulled to the side to tease her. But tonight, he’s just smiling, and his lips look so soft under the pink light. His hand covering hers felt so big and yet unnervingly un-foreign. It’s only calming. His eyes are soft, gentle, dare she say warm even. 

              And for one second, it didn’t seem the calming warmth she was feeling was because of the alcohol. Because the warmth she feels is akin to the soothing radiance of early mornings. Warm like the heat between hand-held mugs shared over a small table with knees bumping next to each other. Warm like the tepid comfort a thick blanket provides to counter the thunderstorm incessantly knocking on the window panes. Warm like the lukewarm water of a hot tub one prepares after coming home from a long day at work. It’s hot, but not too hot to immediately withdraw a finger from.

              It wasn’t the alcohol anymore because the warmth she feels comes from Yoongi. She knows for sure because when her hand withdraws from his skin, the calming warmth that has surrounded her immediately dissipates. 

              The realization dawns on her and suddenly, Y/N feels her throat is being laced up close. A choked out sob, and Y/N is hunching over, form minimizing on the floor as she tries to wheeze out a sharp breath.

              “Y/N! What’s wrong? Are you okay?!” Yoongi panics. He holds her close to him, arms looping around her figure to keep her upright next to him. But Y/N shakily pushes him away.

              Arms-width away from him, hands clutching tightly on his shoulders, Y/N looks up at him. “Yoongi, you have to stop being like this.”

              “L-like what? Holding you to not let you fall over?”

              “No,” Y/N shakes her head. “You have to stop trying to get so close to me.”

              Yoongi stops. 

              Y/N lets out a staggered breath. “Just, please don’t, Yoongi.”

              “Y/N—”

              A tear slips from her eyes. “I can’t fall one more time, Yoongi. I’ve had enough already. I can’t…I can’t take another one. So please…don’t cross anymore of the space I put between us. Or even let me do the same. You can insult me whatever you want, just,” Y/N lets out a broken sigh, “don’t do this to me. Please.”

              No words are exchanged after that. Y/N lets herself in the car. Yoongi follows suit. The night goes on devoid of any sound save for the revving of the engine. When they pull out from the colorful streets of 11th Avenue, the distant pink lights of Neo-Cloud 9 become Y/N’s last memory as she slumps her head against the car window. Soon enough, the world goes black. Her breaths finally even out.

DAY 6 – January 31; Friday

               When Y/N peels her eyes open, a rounded moon-looking light fixture set on a powder blue ceiling is the first thing she sees. The second thing that enters her vision is the white bedside table on her left. She’s never seen these things before. Y/N sits up in a jolt. White wooden cabinets, a metal gray desk, black office swivel chair, light grey faux wooden tiles—these are definitely not in her room. She instantly looks down on her body. A white and blue striped pajama. Panic starts to rise in her stomach.  Where the fuck am I—

               The door bursts open and a head of a male she’s never seen before pops up. He smiles at her. “Oh, you’re finally awake. You can take a shower now. Yoongi’s just finished showering. Your clothes are already on the hangers in the bathroom. Mom’s got them washed and pressed already.” The man walks away only to come back as if he’s forgotten something. “Oh yeah, we’re also having breakfast so…come join us when you’re done?” The furrows on Y/N’s forehead deepen. The man beams, “O-oh, and I’m Yoongi’s brother, Jeongguk.”

               Yoongi? Jeongguk? Why is Yoongi’s brother inviting her for breakfast when she hasn’t even heard of him before—Y/N freezes. The answer finally dawns upon her and Y/N could only internally pull all the hair off her head. Oh my god, what the hell am I doing in Yoongi’s home?!

               Twenty minutes later and Y/N finds herself in a circular table with the very question in her head the first thing uttered out when she sits on her chair.

              “So Y/N,” Yoongi’s father smiles at her, “How did you end up here?”

               “Um—”

               “Dad, I thought already told you yesterday?” Yoongi interrupts. Y/N looks at the man across her. He looks like he didn’t dry himself well. The ends of his hair are still wet. There’s also a damp spot on the chest area of the white crew-neck shirt he’s wearing under his navy blazer. Y/N gulps. She should not let her eyes linger on that damp spot for too long.

               “Yeah, son, I know,” Yoongi’s father chuckles as he slices into his scrambled eggs. He turns to Y/N. “I’m just messing with you, dear.”

               “Y-yeah. I totally understand, Mr. Min,” Y/N tries to chuckle.

               “Oh, don’t call me that. Just call me ‘dad.’ We’re gonna get close anyway.”

               Yoongi’s eyes bulge out. “What the hell—Dad!”

               Mr. Min laughs. “I’m just joking! Call me Yoonhyuk.”

               Y/N smiles politely, “Okay…Yoonhyuk.”

               “My, Yoongi,” Yoongi’s mother claps a hand on her son’s shoulder, “You seem really tense. You’re reverting back into your old high school self.”

               “Mom!”

               “Excuse my son,” Yoongi’s mother smiles at Y/N. “He used to be really tense and timid all over. Habits do really die hard. Anyway, just call me Ji-an, too. Oh, and I’m the one who changed your clothes last night so no need to worry. I just thought letting you sleep in your work clothes may be too uncomfortable. You looked like you really needed a good rest last night.”

               “It’s alright. Thank you so much, Ms. Mi—Ji-an,” Y/N smiles. Ms. Min returns a bigger charming smile. Y/N figures Yoongi’s smile must have taken after his mother’s.

               Breakfast continues on as if it was just another breakfast in the Min family. Having Yoongi’s past already brought up, Mr. Min continues on with a story of an awkward fourteen-year-old Yoongi sweating over just practicing how to give their plate of chow mien to their neighbor. Jeongguk even pitched in of how his older brother was such a wimp way back when they were kids. He said it was a wonder how Yoongi always manages to win every game when he’s always the one running like a ‘waddling duck.’ Until a year later they found out it was all thanks to the cheats Yoongi has collected. Everyone erupts into laughter. Even Yoongi who’s sulking the whole time finally breaks into cackles. 

              Y/N can’t remember the last time she had breakfast this lively. Well, she and Mina do share fun breakfasts too. But with the two of them rarely having enough time to cook meals in the morning, table breakfasts are reserved for special days. Their breakfasts usually come through sandwiches they munch on quickly at a small, cheap café near the office. Now, she’s having breakfast with people she’s never met before, and yet, a comfortable warmth settles over her, making her feel las if she’s meeting people she had long been friends with.  The feeling is strange, but Y/N decides she’s more than welcome to entertain it.

              The breakfast ends sooner than Y/N would like to admit and it isn’t by long she bids her goodbyes to the Min family after she finishes helping Ms. Min clean up. She expresses her gratitude once more to Mr. and Mrs. Min before following Yoongi to the car.

              When they pull away from the driveway, Yoongi finally says his first words of the day to her. “I’m sorry you may have been shocked this morning. I drove you to your apartment but I wasn’t able to get you into your flat because you don’t have your keys. The security stationed doesn’t know alternative access and the admin’s office was long closed. So, I have no other option but to drive you home with me. Well, you were actually the one who insisted to drive you to my home, so yeah, here we are.” 

              “I…insisted to go to your home?”

              Yoongi looks at her, “You don’t remember?”

“Yah, Y/N, stop messing with my hair,” Yoongi huffs as he tries to balance the girl latched onto his back while rummaging through her bag for her keys.

“I’m not messing it up. I’m styling it!” Y/N grabs two handfuls of hair. Yoongi nearly topples onto the floor from the hard tug on his scalp. Y/N only squeals, “See? You look like Garu now! Not Pucca. You only smile when you’re smug!”

“Y/N, stop messing with me,” Yoongi grits, hands frantically turning all the items in the woman’s bag over and over again. “Fuck, there’s no keys. Y/N, where the hell did you put your keys?”

“I don’t knoooow.”

Y/N starts to slip on his back. Before he could hoist her up though, the girl locks her elbows around his neck, knocking the wind out of his windpipe. Yoongi didn’t know what getting strangled really feels like until now. Y/N giggles, “Oh, I know now! I slipped it in in my pouch! The one with my ballpens. I think I must have left it in the office because I’m not yet done with my report when we went off…”

Yoongi drags a hand over his face, “Fuck. What the hell will I do with you now?”

Y/N props her head on his shoulder and grins, “Take me home to your home?”

               Yoongi gapes at Y/N. “You seriously don’t remember?”

               Y/N slowly shakes her head, “I don’t.”

Yoongi plops Y/N back onto the passenger’s seat before he sits himself back into the driver’s seat. The moment Yoongi drives away from the 27th street, Y/N decides it’s a brilliant idea to latch herself onto the man’s arm.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” Yoongi tries to gently pull his arm away from her. Y/N only keeps her grip on him and decides to put her head on his shoulder. Yoongi sighs in defeat.

“I’m being happy!” Y/N grins, “You and I are gonna have a sleepover!”

“This is not a sleepover,” Yoongi gives her a pointed look, “You’re drunk and I’m just being a Good Samaritan letting you stay over in my house because your poor ass got nowhere to go.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still a sleepover because we’ll sleep in your room.”

“I am NOT letting you sleep in my room. You’re gonna sleep on the couch.”

Y/N’s eyes grow wide, “No! We’re gonna sleep in your room! Friends sleep in one room during sleepovers.”

“So now, you’re finally admitting we’re friends?” Yoongi smirks. He doesn’t know why he’s letting this pointless conversation go on when the person he’s speaking to is just running on autopilot. But when Y/N looks at him in complete focus and opens her mouth, Yoongi can’t help but anticipate for what she has to say.

“Why?” Y/N tilts her head, “Aren’t we already friends? Weren’t you the one who kept bugging me about it?”

Yoongi looks away and keeps his eyes ahead, “Well…yeah.”

“Then why won’t you let me sleep in your room?”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, “Just because.”

“Is it because you hate me?”

“No, it’s not because of that.”

“Then, is it because I annoyed you today?”

“Well, you did annoy me. A lot.” Yoongi sighs, “Okay, a bit. A teeny, tiny bit. But, it’s also not because of that.”

“Then what is it?” Y/N whines.

Yoongi doesn’t answer.

“Is it because I’m supposed to actually rat on any mistake of your team to Nancy?”

Still silence.

“Then…is it because I’m ugly?”

Yoongi whips his head toward her, “What?”

Y/N looks down at her lap, “People say no one wants to be with me because no one likes my face. They say it’s too intimidating. That I’m too intimidating and no one wants to be with someone like that.” Y/N glances at the side mirror, “Didn’t help that everyone practically hates me because of how firm I stand with my values. High school was enough proof of that.”

“Well, it’s not everyone. You got Mina—”

“Of course, I got Mina. She’s always by my side. So, she’s out of the question.”

“I’m not yet done,” Yoongi chuckles, “You do love getting ahead of everybody, no?”

Y/N pouts and faces straight ahead, crossing her arms.

“As I was saying, you got Mina and me.”

It’s Y/N’s turn to snap back towards him, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

“You said before I’m not just anybody,” Yoongi shrugs. “Might as well live up to that.”

The quiet air settles over again. Only the sounds of the city zooming past them and Y/N’s occasional snores fill the gaps of silence. But it doesn’t last long as they finally reached 12th street, West Drive—Yoongi’s home—because Y/N wakes up again and starts blabbering if she could tie up his hair Garu-style. Yoongi thinks the utter shock in his mother’s face when she opened the door for him and the utterly inebriated girl on his back is something he will never forget. And probably Y/N’s face, too, which brightened up when Yoongi told her she can have his room.

“Are you serious?” Y/N squeals, already on her knees on his mattress, ready to jump around. She looks like a five-year-old and it doesn’t help that his striped blue and white pajamas make her look, dare he say, cute.

“Yes, I am,” Yoongi replies. He closes the door for a second to see his mother in the hallway.

Ji-an places Y/N’s clothes on their hamper before addressing him. “Been a while since you brought a friend over.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi nervously smiles as he rubs his nape. “Sorry this was unannounced, mom. I drove her to her place but she forgot her keys at work and her flatmate’s also gone for the night. I don’t know what to do so I just brought her here.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” Ji-an smiles. “I was just surprised. I didn’t know Thursday nights are now a drinking night.”

“Mom!” Yoongi playfully claps his mother’s shoulder. Ji-an only laughs. When her chuckles die down, she fondly looks at her son, “I was just curious what made you drink out on a Thursday night. I thought friend’s night-outs are for Fridays.”

“Today was just a special case. Y/N wanted to try drinking for the first time. She dragged me to teach her what she’s missed out on college and high school.” Yoongi looks at his closed door, a warm smile forming on his face. “I didn’t know someone at 25 has not yet been to a bar before.” 

“Then, I’m glad you’ve accompanied her.”

Yoongi looks at his mother, brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“It’s also been a while since I’ve seen you smile like that,” Ji-an pulls her lips into a knowing smile. “You smile a lot with us. But it’s been ages since I saw that smile again. It makes me happy it’s back.”

“What…smile, mom?”

“Oh, you know it already,” Ji-an pats his shoulder. “By the way, where are you gonna sleep?”

“I’ll make camp in the living room. I have your fluffy pillows and blanket with me…Thanks, mom.” Yoongi gives her an appreciative smile. 

“Okay then,” Ji-an returns his smile, “Goodnight, son.” Yoongi kisses her cheek goodnight and then she resigns back into their room. 

Yoongi plops himself on the floor beside his bed. Y/N rolls over to poke at his shoulder, “What took you so long outside? I thought this is a sleepover. Also, what are you doing with that?” she points to the binder the man is holding.

Yoongi continues flipping through the pages. It’s an album of his days back in high school. He always pulls it out whenever he gets the sudden urge to feel nostalgic. Most often than not, the fuzzy feeling after drinking gives that urge. Yoongi mutters, “I’m looking through it so you’ll get bored of messing with me and finally sleep.”

“You know, Yoongi…if I didn’t hate you, I would love to kiss you.”

Yoongi freezes in his position, “W-what?”

But it seems the alcohol took its final toll on Y/N when she rolls over to her side and bids him with a yawn, “Goodnight, Yoongi.”

Yoongi makes sure he hears her snore before he returns, “…Goodnight, too, sweetheart.”

               “You really don’t remember anything?”

               “No…?”

               Yoongi focuses back on the road. “What’s your last memory yesterday?”

               “Well, we took shots. Then after that, we danced, and—nothing. Well, you drove me here and let me sleepover so yeah,” Y/N looks down on her interlocked hands. “Thank you for that, Yoongi.”

               “You’re welcome. But do you really not remember anything? As in, anything at all?”

               “I told you I do not, okay?” Y/N throws up her hands, “How many times do I have to tell you that?!”

               Yoongi glances at her, “Not even what you said while we’re dancing at the bar?”

               “No,” Y/N sighs. “Look, I don’t remember anything from the night before, save for what I already told you. What did I even say while we’re dancing at the bar?”

               “Nothing,” Yoongi looks back at the road. “You just said you wanna stuff your nose full with mojito because you love it so much.”

               Y/N massages her temple, “Okay, that’s embarrassing. But dismissible. It’s just a stupid statement. Did something else happen?”

               “Something,” Yoongi scoffs, “Oh hell yeah, something definitely happened.”

               Y/N’s brows shot up and she screeches, “Did something happen between us?!” Yoongi almost drives the car out of their lane.

               “Jesus Christ, Y/N, do you plan on busting my ears off?” Yoongi holds a hand over his ears. “And for God’s sake, how did you even come up to that? What do you think of me? Someone who takes advantage of a drunk woman?!”

              “I didn’t say that! Okay,” Y/N reels back and sighs, “I’m sorry I implied it and for possibly offending you. I just thought maybe you got drunk, too, yesterday and we got handsy-handsy on each other. Maybe. The movies show it’s possible. And they already run a good enough forecast system for drunken mistakes.”

              “Are you seriously using movies now as a reliable reference?”

              Y/N looks away. “It wouldn’t hurt, okay. Movies reflect real life.”

              “Look, Y/N,” Yoongi looks at her with a serious face, “nothing sexual happened between us. If something actually happened between us, I wouldn’t be here in the first place. I’d probably be at a church tryna convince the priest if I could take a bath using their holy water.” 

               Y/N scowls at him, “You say that as if I’m the most horrible person in the world. Well, if you’d been a different person, you’d know I’m not so bad.”

               “Are you implying you want to have sex with me?”

               “Oh my god—NO! How the fuck did you even think about such abomination?!” 

              Yoongi wiggles his brows at her. Y/N resists the urge to slap his face. They’re currently driving. She cannot risk her life no matter how much she wants to end the man beside her.

              “But seriously speaking,” Yoongi rounds a street, “something else did happen.”

              “What is it?”

              “You actually insisted to go to my house because you wanna have a sleepover. You reasoned it’s because we’re friends.” Yoongi glances at her, “And you told me you wanted to kiss me.”

              Y/N’s jaw falls wide open, “Oh my god, your imagination cannot be any weirder than it already is, huh? ‘Friends’? ‘Kiss you’? Never in a million years would I want that!” Y/N scoffs, “Even if I’m drunk, I know I wouldn’t say that! Your delusions are getting worse, Yoongi.”

              “Say all that you want. Still doesn’t negate what transpired yesterday,” Yoongi sing-songs.

              “Look,” Y/N shifts in her seat to turn to Yoongi, “I’m grateful you had me in your home and welcomed me so warmly. And I know I’m enjoying a lot of favors right now. But one more wouldn’t hurt, okay?” Y/N sighs and closes her eyes, “Can we just forget whatever happened yesterday?”

              “Nope.”

              “What do you mean ‘nope’?!”

              “Nope, as in, we cannot forget what we know happened. It’s impossible, biologically and realistically speaking. Our brains are not designed with an undo button. Unless we already have early onset of Alzheimer’s. Though I think I wouldn’t worry about that because I’m young and happy. You’re the one who should actually worry because you look old and that’s because you didn’t enjoy life—”

              “Okay, I get you! It’s impossible to forget! But can we just never speak about what happened yesterday?!” 

              Yoongi shrugs, “Depends.”

              Y/N’s brows scrunch together, “What do you mean ‘depends’?”

              “If it would be non-advantageous for me, sure, I won’t speak about it. But right now, it’s definitely advantageous for me because I can use it as blackmail material to finally convince you you wanted to be friends, and that in fact, we are indeed already friends.”

              “Min Yoongi—!”

              A ringtone bursts loud in the car. It’s a Japanese song. And it sounds very much like an opening OST for a shounen action anime.

              “Are you fricking serious—”

              “Ssh!”  Y/N holds up an index to Yoongi’s lips. She breaks into a smile, “Oh hello, Ms. Nancy. I-I mean,” Y/N glances at her watch and does quick math, “good afternoon!” Fuck time differences.

               The person on the other end of the line doesn’t sound too pleased with the greeting though. “Where the hell are you now, Y/N?”

               “Oh, I’m at,” Y/N looks outside of the window in search of the nearest post with a street name, “uh, 1st Avenue. We’re just a couple of blocks from Rockfort now.”

               “Don’t come into the office today. I have a list of errands for you to do instead.”

               “O-okay—”

               “They’re a lot so I’m gonna e-mail them to you now. When you receive it, I hope you start on it ASAP.”

               “Of course, ma’am,” Y/N smiles. A beep at the other end serves as her reply. A ‘ding’ soon sounds in her phone and Y/N immediately checks on her notifications.

               Ms. Nancy Kim (7:45 A.M.)

Go to my house on 27th Avenue. I left some legal papers I need by 8:20 and I want you to scan them and email them to me. Use my personal computer. 

Head to the VanTae Main Office by 8:45 A.M. They’re hosting a meeting with the businesses they’ve partnered with for an interactive fashion event they’re hosting. I forgot to inform them beforehand that I’ve gone abroad but I’ve already e-mailed the CEO today that our spokesperson, Mr. Junhyung Choi, will stand for me. Help out Mr. Choi with whatever he needs, especially his presentation. 

Go to RTW Advertising’s Headquarters by 11 A.M with Mr. Choi. They need to discuss something about their future project with us. I’m gonna send you the references you’ll need to help Mr. Choi—

               Y/N immediately tucks her phone into her pocket. She’ll just read the rest on the train. She turns to the man beside her, “Yoongi park on the sidewalk.”

                “Why? But we’re going to the office—”

               “Just go to the nearest parking spot and drop me off.” Y/N smiles, “Please?”

               Yoongi sighs but nevertheless, he follows her directions and pulls up the car in front of a bicycle stand.

               Y/N gathers her bag, “Sorry this is a rush. I’m not going to the office. I need to catch the 8 A.M. train.” Y/N turns to her side to tug free her seatbelt but it won’t budge. She hears a sigh and then suddenly, there’s a hand hovering above hers, pulling more of the seatbelt from her shoulder to lessen the tension of the belt on the lock. When Y/N looks up, Yoongi’s face is so near hers that one simple movement could let her nose brush the side of his cheek. She could practically feel Yoongi’s breath sweep over her lips as he releases a sigh.

               Then Yoongi looks straight into her eyes. “Is it Nancy?”

               The lock clicks and it releases the belt. Y/N presses herself still into the corner of the car. She doesn’t know she’s holding her breath as she nods, “Y-yeah.”

               Yoongi leans back in his seat. “You sure you want to take the train? I can drive you to where you need to go. I can just hit up Ms. Yoona and tell her to take my place for the day.”

               “N-no. This is my work. I don’t want to bother you. I’ve got a list of things to do and it will keep you away from what you really needed to do.” Y/N pushes the handle and opens the door to let herself hop out. “Thanks for offering though.”

               Yoongi tilts his head and smiles. “Date you later, then?”

               Y/N’s brows meet together.

               Yoongi shrugs, “Well, we’ll see each other later and hopefully date y’know? We still need a few date documents to get. For the Heart Holiday. So yeah, date you later?”

               “Okay…date you later, too.” Y/N smiles back and then she closes the door. When she turns around, she tries to convince herself the heat on her cheeks was because of the pollution outside. Not because of Yoongi’s warm smile as she sent him off.

               Y/N wishes she’s never said anything too early.

               The future is a concept that can hardly be determined no matter how open and flexible the patterns people have made to make sense of it. Y/N knows this and yet she still chooses to defy it. It‘s human nature anyway to try and figure out life and see how long you could last with a blueprint belief. If it turns out to be wrong, improve the belief or let it go and find a better one. But this is always easier said than done. It’s an inherent quality of dealing with things and concepts no one has complete control over. And Y/N has completely no control even on her unfortunate scenarios she has pre-determined in her head.

              All of her Thursdays have been cursed ever since her first goddamn story proposal was foiled by Min Yoongi one year ago. And suddenly, yesterday was spot-free of any unfortunate events Y/N was sober enough to fully experience. And by some unexpected discrepancy in a long-established, working pattern, everything that has to go wrong in Thursday, happened today—Friday.

               When Y/N entered the train station, a mechanical error occurred on the 8 A.M. train that caused a thirty-minute delay before a working cart could come and accommodate commuters. This fucked up Y/N’s schedule big time because she had to sprint to Nancy’s house and speed-scan the legal documents she needed in just five minutes to reach the 8:20 deadline. Of course, it didn’t work according to her plan because computers do their thing when you needed something to be rushed, they pick that exact time to not cooperate with you. Nevertheless, Y/N manages to finish the task. But all the tinge of achievement written on her face from accomplishing something was immediately slashed off when she realizes she sent the documents five minutes past the deadline. Nancy made sure she knew this when she rings her to berate her of her noncompliance with set deadlines.

               Y/N thought she could make up for her mistake by doing her best in her presentation with Mr. Choi at VanTae. But that, too, proves to be a long shot to make because before she could even try, life shuts her down. Nancy forgot to inform her VanTae was expecting themed cohesive presentations from their partners. It is with great shame she sat behind the podium where Mr. Choi is standing, flipping through each slide that was obviously embarrassingly sub-par to the other business partners in the room. And, Mr. Choi didn’t let go of the opportunity to befall the blame of today’s unimpressive performance completely on Y/N. Who wouldn’t when she’s the one in charge of making the entire presentation?

               But that wasn’t the end of it. At RTW, Mr. Choi just asked for Y/N to bring him and the manager cups of coffee. She doesn’t have to stand by his side anymore. But the heavens seem to hate her because when she enters the conference room and nears the manager, the secretary who’s placing the folders suddenly turned, bumping into Y/N. It would have been okay if the coffee spilled all over on her shirt. But No. Y/N trips on her foot and the hot, newly brewed coffee had to spill on the shirt of RTW’s manager. 

              When Nancy caught wind of what happened through Mr. Choi, she immediately slashed off Y/N’s tasks that actually involved Travel Loca and reduced it to personal, trivial errands. It’s easy and fool-proof. They’re just errands like bring Nancy’s daughter’s hardcopy of her paper to her school and write up an apology for Nancy for the parties and events she got invited to but will be unable to attend. And by some undecipherable stretch of bad luck, doing these tasks, too, has also proven to be hard. Either the transportation system will delay her for half an hour, an electronic gadget will malfunction on her, or a person in the other end of the line will find something offending in her words and turn it all against her. Y/N barely made it on time to submit the hardcopy to the school. She wasn’t able to finish encoding Nancy’s personal expenses in the tax declaration software. And two of Nancy’s friends were not satisfied with her apologies and even insulted her. When Y/N calls for the nth time about finishing a task that ended not-so-well in her favor, she knows Nancy has already busted her patience of the day for her because she just sighs and started to give her cold one-worded replies.

              And before Y/N knew it, it’s already seven. Long past working hours. Y/N’s eyes widen. Yoongi. She pulls up her phone and types a message.

              Y/N : Hey, I think I’m gonna do a raincheck on our uh date. Sorry for the late notice. I just finished my job and I don’t think I have any energy left. (7:05 P.M.)

             Mean Yoongi >:( : Why? What happened? (7:06 P.M.)

             Mean Yoongi >:( : If you don’t mind me asking, I mean? (7:06 P.M.)

             Y/N : Nothing happened. Just tired (7:06 P.M.)

             Mean Yoongi >:( : Okay, that’s fine. Take a rest. Health is always the priority (7:07 P.M.)

             Y/N : Okay. Thank you :) (7:07 P.M.)

             Mean Yoongi >:( : Date you tomorrow then? (7:07 P.M.)

             Y/N purses her lips and shrugs. 

             Y/N : Sure. Date you tomorrow (7:07 P.M.) 

             Mean Yoongi >:( : Sweet. Goodnight, sweetheart  😉 (7:07 P.M.)

             A small smile traces its way on Y/N’s face. 

             Y/N : Goodnight, too, Yoongi (7:07 P.M.)  

             However, Y/N shouldn’t have thought about finally having a good night too early. Because the cherry on top of her day is yet to happen. 

            Y/N heads to Rockfort to retrieve her keys and finally end the day. It’s already nine in the evening and she just wants to go home, plop down on her bed, and maybe cry. Out of shame or anger or both, she isn’t sure. Probably anger to Mr. Choi and a bit to Nancy because they didn’t have to belittle her in front of her face the way they did. And most probably anger to herself because she wouldn’t receive such backlash from her superiors if she didn’t fuck up. The rational part of her believes Mr. Choi and Nancy didn’t have time to consider her feelings because they were doing damage control. But still, Y/N can’t help but feel she’s been ruthlessly disregarded. She tried her best but she knows she can’t force anyone to notice it. No one really cares much about the progress. Outcomes are what only matter. It is always the end that determines whether something is worth all the effort or it was all just for naught. 

              When Y/N starts on the steps on the complex, her phone rings. 

              It’s Nancy. Y/N takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “He-hello?”

              “Y/N, what’s the progress of the Creatives for this week?”

              “O-oh, um—”

              “You forgot to send it to me earlier this day when I clearly told you before I went overseas to make sure you keep me up-to-date by the evening. Does it look like it’s still evening, now? It’s already midnight here.” Nancy sighs, “I’m the boss and yet I have to call my employee to ask her to simply do her job. Do you see how wrong that sounds?”

              “I-I’m sorry, Ms. Nancy—”

              “Stop with the apologies. I’ve had enough of that this day. Just tell me what I’m asking from you.”

              “O-okay,” Y/N rushes to the nearest bench. It’s the one sitting under the central mango tree and Y/N hopes if it could give her at least an ounce of luck just like it always does. With hands trembling, Y/N manages to get all the pages of her report from her bag in one piece.  She flips through the papers, “U-um, well, Steven and Yoongi came up with a unique design for our feature articles. It’s inspired by the DRM’s goals and the Heart Holiday because Valentines’ week is just around the corner. A-and then the concept team is collaborating well with our artists in doing the overall theme of our issue. I could send you an email later of the samples they’ve given me—” 

              “Okay, but do you have any updates on our cover page?”

              “The-the cover page?”

              “Yes, the cover page. Did you not hear what I said?”

              Y/N feels her throat dry up. The cover page. Kim Myungsoo. Y/N has reminded him of it yesterday and he said he’s going to see if he can email it by Friday. It’s already Friday and she still hasn’t received any email. She even texted Yoongi earlier while she’s at RTW’s meeting to personally check on Myungsoo and his team. What she only received is a dejected sigh from Yoongi as he told her the team leader has taken a leave and the team members are unable to give them the proposal she needs. Y/N remembers how flawed the bureaucratic system of Travel Loca is as Yoongi informs her company rules dictate access to the reports and documents are only granted by team leaders to ensure their legibility. And since Nancy didn’t give out a statement to override this rule today, Yoongi, himself, cannot do anything. Y/N now remembers why she actually dreaded this call to come.

              “U-um, yes, Ma’am, I heard what you said. But, the thing is, uh,” Y/N taps her foot, “I wasn’t…able to make a report because Myungsoo has taken a leave and he wasn’t able to send their report of progress to me. I-I’m sorry.”

              Silence greets her. For a second, Y/N thinks the line went dead.  She realizes it was wrong to speak beforehand because, after a beat, she feels her heart drop into her stomach.

              “You never run out of excuses, do you?”

              “W-what?”

              Nancy laughs. “Oh my god, I thought I wouldn’t be any more disappointed in you today. Guess I was wrong because you have a knack for breaking my expectations, Y/N. And right now, I’m not disappointed. I’m upset.”

              “Nancy, I’m sorry—”

              “All I’ve asked from you was to give me updates on the Creatives team. And yeah, you did but you left out the most important element we really need from them—the cover page. Give me a creatives team from a magazine company that doesn’t put the central focus on the fucking cover page? Of course, you’ll get none!”

              Y/N bites her lip.

               “What are you even doing this week in the office, then, Y/N?”

               Silence.

               “Answer me, Y/N.”

               Y/N bites back a sniffle. “I-I check on each team a-and I also helped with choosing the layouts and templates they use and—”

               “Why the hell are you helping them with that? You don’t know their work. What made you think you could actually help?” Nancy scoffs, “So instead of actually doing your job, you’ve been busying yourself with pointless things.”

               Y/N could only look down on her feet.

               “You know what, Y/N. When I hired you, I thought you were different. I thought you’re someone who could shine and finally get promoted to the team you wanted to be in. Because you know I’m picky with my P.A’s. Only those who I think have the potential to deserve a promotion into a nice position in my company, or at least deserve to get my recommendation that could get them access to many reputable magazines or news companies, get hired to be my P.A.’s. And when I met you, I thought you were like that. Strong, determined, intelligent, and hard-working. But now, you’re far from that, Y/N. You’ve become so far from what I’ve known you to be. You’ve become sloppy. You’ve become someone that makes excuses instead of really working. And you didn’t improve, Y/N. Not one bit. Because your work these days is far behind from what I expect from a well-educated person. And now, you’re making me think I made a mistake I even hired you.”

               Y/N presses a hand over her mouth. It’s only then she realizes a tear has already slipped from her eyes.

                Nancy sighs, “Thank you for…whatever you did today. I just hope you’ll make up for your mistakes when I come back. I don’t want to further regret I’ve taken you to my company. Goodbye.”

               The line goes dead. The hand that holds up her phone limply falls by her side. Her legs are shaking and so are her fingers. It’s cold but it doesn’t compare to the block of frigidness that has dropped on her chest when Nancy…said those words to her. Sure, Nancy’s always been a bit harsh and strict. She’s scolded Y/N for all the times she’s failed in her job before but they were all necessary reminders that have molded her to become more professional at work. She even told her once how proud she was of how Y/N grew in her company. But tonight, her words are far from that. Nancy was brutal and Y/N could only blame herself.

              Whenever Y/N makes a mistake, she always tries to look at them objectively and never let them get to her. She’s always been able to do this all throughout high school and until she’s started working. Until tonight, because Nancy’s words are vicious and they’re too heavy to shake off. People say wondering about the ‘what if’s’ is absurd as mulling over what may have happened won’t bring anything to anyone but torment. They are reminders of a now-unattainable future and dwelling on them won’t change anything. But right now, Y/N cannot help but wonder what if she’s sent the legal papers on time? What if she made a noteworthy presentation at the meeting? What if she didn’t spill coffee on the manager? What if she’s been more aggressive in convincing Myungsoo to give her the proposal? Would anything change then?

                Y/N raises a hand to wipe off the wetness that has trailed on her cheek. It immediately turns futile because the moment she presses a hand over her eyes, she lets out a sob and tear after tear slips through her fingers. Her mother has told her she’s always had shallow tears. Y/N has worked so long to prove her wrong. That she’s not weak. That she’s not easy to fall over when someone comes too close to knock her down. That she’s strong, that she could get by on her own and she could be someone no one could even attempt to hurt. But now, she’s reduced to this: a crying mess of a girl sitting on some bench for everyone to see. She doesn’t know what to do anymore and—

               “Hey, what are you still doing here?”

               Y/N looks up. Tears only seem to accumulate more on her eyes when she sees it’s—

               “Wait, why are you crying?”

               “Yoongi.” Y/N breaks into a sob and before another second passes, Yoongi’s already by her side, looping his arms around her shaking frame, her face pressed close to his chest. He cards his fingers through her hair as he coos at her, but that only seems to spur more sobs to fall from her lips.

               “I’m so-sorry I’m crying like this—”

               “Let it out.” Yoongi hugs her closer to him, “Just let it out. It’s okay.”

               That’s all it took for Y/N to let everything out. She cries against Yoongi’s chest, hands clutching tightly on his coat. Sobs rock upon her frame but Yoongi only holds her tight, swaying a bit as if to lull her from the suffocating toll of her cries. He doesn’t ask anything. He just stays by her side, whispering by her ear, “it’s alright,” “I’m here,” and “You’re not alone.” For the first time that day, all thoughts of ‘what ifs’ halt in her head.

               The night outside is getting colder by each second. Y/N could make out fogged up spots on the car window. When her finger meets the glass, she doesn’t jolt from the cold. The heater of the car is on. She draws a star. She thinks she’s lucky. She remembers she is when her eyes glance at the back, upon the paper bag containing empty, reusable take-out containers.

               “So…what happened today?”

               Y/N turns back to the front. Yoongi’s arms are firm on the wheel. He spares her a glance before focusing his eyes back on the road, “Of course, if you feel…more okay now to answer it.”

               Y/N bites her lip. It’s been an hour ago since they silently sat on the bench. And a half-hour after that, she and Yoongi shared dinner over something as trivial as listing the most annoying movies they’ve ever watched. And now, a couple of minutes have already passed in the car with them back in complete silence. Yoongi hasn’t said anything about what happened by the mango tree until now and so did Y/N. But she knows it’s an elephant weighing too big in the car not to address it. 

               Y/N sighs. “W-well, Nancy has given me a lot of errands to do. And…everything just didn’t go according to plan and I guess, it was just…the last straw for me.”

              “I see,” Yoongi hums, glancing at her before directing his eyes back on the road.

              Y/N wrings her hands together. She closes her eyes. “Okay, I got…scolded today by Nancy because I messed up with the things she asked me to do. Of course, she has every right to—”

              “What did she say to you?”

              Y/N looks up at him then she quickly returns her gaze on her hands. “N-nothing. She just…expressed her disappointment about me especially when she learned I cannot give her any updates about the cover page.”

              “So you got lashed out on for Myungsoo’s uncooperating ass?”

              Y/N whips her head to him, “No, I-I didn’t get lashed out—”

              “Y/N, stop lying to me.” Yoongi looks at her. “I know Nancy. I’ve been her P.A., too. And when she’s upset, she lashes out. And when she does, she goes way all over the line.” He looks back onto the street. “Why are you even trying to defend her when she obviously stepped over the line again? This is what I don’t like about—” Yoongi stops and sighs, “What are you going to do about Myungsoo?”

              “I’ll…e-mail him tomorrow and convince him to send the proposal to me.”

              “So you’re not even going to reprimand him for letting you unjustly receive backlash because of him?

              “N-no,” Y/N looks at him, brows scrunched. “I don’t want to make unnecessary enemies here and let my temper get the better of me—”

              “So you just don’t stand up against them? What does that make me, then? I’m your free estate for that pent-up anger?”

              Silence.

              Yoongi sighs, “Fuck, I’m sorry. That’s out of the line.”

              “It’s okay…I’m sorry, too. I’ve also been unfair to you.”

              “I’m just—I’m so frustrated why you can’t stand up for yourself around these people just like you do to me. You can’t always let them have their way, Y/N. Superior or not.”

              Y/N remains unmoving in her seat. Yoongi looks at her slumped figure in the seat and he decides to drop the subject. Silence takes hold of their car again. Yoongi tries to elevate the mood by talking about how he’s already on the 30th episode of Naruto. He said he didn’t expect he’ll find it to be that great “since the popular animes are usually overrated.” He even chipped in how he can’t find Sakura annoying even if a lot of fans hated her. Y/N didn’t say anything but a small smile starts to form on her lips. It’s more than enough for Yoongi to thank the heavens he didn’t totally ruin the night.

              When they round the 20th street, Y/N finally decides to speak.

              “S-sorry I wasn’t able to say thank you for earlier so—thank you, Yoongi. For the dinner and for the…thing you did on the bench.”

              “It’s okay,” Yoongi pulls a small smile. “It’s what friends do.”

               Y/N’s eyes shoot up to him and Yoongi only lets his smile grow. It’s that smile. That same smile he gave her when he’s offering to watch Naruto for her to watch Slam Dunk. That same smile he flashed her when he told her to put her arms around his neck as he let her experience her first dance she never had. That same smile that sent warmth spreading all over her chest and tingles running down to her toes.  Just like right now. Y/N swallows the nervousness building in her throat. 

              She turns around in her seat and takes it everything in herself to make her voice sound as beaming as it can be. “Hey, how about we go to that fast food and get one date document before the night ends? It looks so nice and I-I feel bad we didn’t do anything today and—”

               “No. I’m driving you to your home.”

               Y/N gapes at the man. “B-but you said we’ll date later—”

               “We could always get a date document any other time. You’re tired. You need to rest.”

               “But—”

               “Y/N, you should stop turning your back to things you should actually be facing,” Yoongi looks at her. “Right now, you should let yourself rest.”

               The rest of the ride was silent. As Y/N fiddles with the cuffs of her button-down, she cannot help but mull over what Nancy has said earlier. Should she give up her plan for the Heart Holiday to make up for her mistakes today? Of course, when Nancy hears about her absence at work when she goes back to the office, she’ll definitely be disappointed. She could even fire her. Y/N cannot bear to have that. She’s invested two years of her life in Travel Loca. She knows she’s having a hard time living in her current place—doing something she doesn’t love in the field she’s desired for how many years. But she will rather have it than start all over again, most likely work somewhere more comfortable but far from the thing she loves—writing.  It’s already hard to start on your desired field. Of course, it would be more heart-wrenching if you had to start from scratch again. 

               Y/N knows it’s sensible and rational to drop her plan now. She knows she’s leaning to this answer by the time Yoongi pulls in front of her apartment. But when she looks at him and bids him goodbye, his eyes crinkling as he tells her to “drink something warm” and “sleep well, sweetheart,” Y/N cannot figure out why the thought of giving up their ruse felt so…wrong.

DAY 7 – February 1; Saturday

               Y/N is awakened by the eye-burning late morning light streaming through her curtains. Her sleep never exceeds the eight-hour mark. It’s a wonder that for the first time, today she did. Y/N thinks it’s probably because Mina spoiled her with homemade post-dinner yesterday after flopping next to her on the couch and telling her everything that happened that day. Her bestfriend has lined up all her favorite comfort foods and even stayed up late watching movies with her, successfully distracting her from replaying whatever Nancy has said.  

              However, it could also be probably because she slept with her coat draped over her shoulders. Y/N doesn’t know why but her coat smelled so good last night and she just has to keep it beside her for the whole night. She only learns the answer to this when she wakes up to Yoongi’s scent filling her senses first thing in the morning. But even with this knowledge, Y/N can’t find it in herself to regret she ever did that. She hates to admit there’s something about that man that makes her feel safe even if he also makes her run constantly on her toes.

               Mina’s out to visit her parents and said she will be back for dinner. Y/N’s seated cross-legged on the couch, chomping on the brunch her bestfriend prepared while she watches Slam Dunk. It’s been two hours since she clicked on her USB containing the downloaded episodes of the anime and yet it feels only fifteen minutes have passed. She doesn’t want to say it aloud, but clearly, Yoongi has some good taste. She wouldn’t mind getting more recommendations from him.

               Just right then, her phone rings. Without tearing her eyes from the TV, she wipes on the screen and holds the phone next to her ear. Whoever decided it was a good time to interrupt her just when Sakuragi gets a moment with Haruko is as good as dead meat. She grits over the phone, “What do you want?”

               “What the—So early in the morning and you’re already so grumpy.”

               Y/N stops. She pulls her phone away from her face.

               Mean Yoongi >:( 

               Y/N sighs and rolls her eyes. However, she cannot resist the smile that immediately grows on her face. “It’s not ‘early in the morning’ anymore, mister. It’s already eleven. Now, what do you want?”

               “‘What do I want?’ Do I seriously type the opportunistic guy who only calls just because he wants something?” Yoongi scoffs but the sound of it tells Y/N the man was doing his weird laughing face again. 

               Y/N chuckles. Yoongi immediately follows suit. “But seriously,” Y/N manages in between giggles, “Why did you call?”

               “Just checkin’ up on you. How are you? Do you feel…better, now?”

               Y/N hums. She purses her lips, “A bit better now. So far, this day has been good to me. How ‘bout you?”

               “I’m good,” Yoongi quips, “Better actually. I cooked my family some breakfast and now I’m just chillin’ in my room. What are you doing?”

               “…watching Slam Dunk.”

               “No way!”

               Y/N could hear the clatter of things in the speaker. Yoongi must have sat up and knocked things over. What a clumsy idiot. She chuckles, “Oh yes way, Min. Now, you won’t be able to fight me on this because I’m in the 10th episode now.  How about you? How’s the other end of the deal doing over there?”

               “Just you wait, woman, I’m gonna watch Naruto now.” There’s a faint click in the speaker and then—

               “Please enter your disk.”

               “Oh my god, Yoongi, you bought a fucking CD of Naruto?!”

               “Why? This is me showing my respect for art by not ripping it off—wait, do you not buy CDs?”

               “…No.”

              “Do you not have Netflix?”

               “Do you have Netflix?” Y/N counters, “That’s rich coming from you considering you still buy Blu-ray Discs. We’re just both broke, struggling adults here who can’t afford additional bills to pay. No need to pull up your chair so high, mister.”

               “Answer my question, Y/N. Do you not have Netflix?”

              Y/N sighs, “No.”

              “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m dating a pirate!”

               Y/N could feel her cheeks start to burn, “What the—! I’m not a pirate! I’m just—being practical, yeah! In case you don’t know, things stay free on the Internet for a reason and that is to accommodate broke people like me.”

               “Still doesn’t negate that you, mate, are in fact committing piracy.”

               “Hey, I’m not the one who created the pirated versions of Slam Dunk! I’m just downloading torrents. I’m just utilizing available means practically laid in front of me!”

               Laughter resounds on the other end of the line. It sounds weird—like a grandpa wheezing in front of an electric fan. But it also sounds endearingly cute. It doesn’t make sense why it even sounds cute. It’s not even cute! Y/N unknowingly smiles. One thing’s for sure. She wants to hear more of Yoongi’s laugh.

               “Jesus Christ, woman, I’m just messing with you!” Yoongi cackles. “You think I don’t watch pirated things, too? Most of the movies I claimed I’ve already watched are all thanks to torrent. I’m too broke to go to cinemas!”

               “But if you entertain pirated stuff,” Y/N shifts in her seat, “why did you even buy a CD of Naruto?”

               “I buy CDs only when I think they are worth it.”

               “You…already think Naruto is worth it?”

               “Yeah. You like it. So, it’s worth it. You said it’s great, so I trust you.”

               Y/N gulps. It’s weird. Her chest feels so warm and so do her cheeks. She’s just talking with someone over the phone.

               “You still there?”

               “Y-yeah,” Y/N fixes her clothes. Why the hell is she even fixing herself? It’s not as if Yoongi can see her.

               “Okay. I thought of something.”

               “Yeah?”

               “How ‘bout we watch our respective animes together through Discord Music Party so we can hear each other’s reactions live?”

               Y/N tilts her head, “How will I be able to watch properly then if I’m calling you at the same time?”

               “You can turn down my volume from time to time there, duh. It’s 2020 now, sweetheart.”

               Y/N flushes. “O-okay, we can do that. But I still don’t get why we have to check our reactions live.”

               “Did you ever feel you want so badly to gush out your annoyance or excitement about something you’re watching to someone? Because I do. And I want you to be on the other line to hear me lash and gush on something because you made me enter this battlefield. This is 500+ episodes, woman.”

               “Well, that’s not my fault. Who in the first place proposed this anime-watching exchange? You.”

               “Touche,” Yoongi chuckles. “Yeah, it’s me. I told you I’d watch Naruto just to get you to watch Slam Dunk for my sake. But actually, I’m just curious why you love that anime so much. So here’s me learning the heck out of it.”

               Naruto’s Season 1 opening OST starts to play in the background.

               Y/N clucks her tongue, “I thought we’d go to Discord first before we do our live reactions?”

               “Just give me five more minutes. I don’t want to end our call yet.”

               Five minutes easily turn into twenty and it takes one more of Yoongi’s ‘Just five more minutes’ to annoy Y/N and yell at him he’s wasting his mobile load. It takes Y/N three minutes to download the app, and after ten minutes of fumbling around it, they hear each other’s voices again and continue where they left off. 

               “Oh, you’re here again, captain!”

               “Shut up, Yoongi.”

               “How’s the loot?”

               Y/N sends an angry emoji in the chat. Yoongi’s laughter immediately booms through the speakers.

               The rest of the day just goes like this. Episode upon episode pass. There are occasional quick calls for a bathroom break. Of course, another argument happens, especially when Yoongi suddenly declared at episode 77 he ships Sakura with Naruto which Y/N cannot accept because “canon is canon for a reason.” Meanwhile, Yoongi was initially pleased to learn Y/N ships Haruko with Sakuragi and not with “Awful Kaede.” But that immediately changes when he learns Y/N only ships the two because she ships Kaede with herself.

              “I love me an ambitious, dream-driven man.”

              “You’re the one who’s getting too ambitious, missy.”

                Sometimes, inquiries of “You wanna pause and rant about Kaede?” or “What are you eating?” come across. But most of the time, what transpires in between are laughs, expressions like “that’s so cool,” and “whoa, I didn’t expect that,” and promises to keep watching together whenever they’re free. Y/N never knew watching a show could be this fun. Of course, it’s already fun watching an amazing show with great characters and conflicts. But watching together with another person, even if they’re not necessarily the same show, definitely amps up the experience.  Y/N doesn’t want to admit it but Yoongi’s right. Having someone by your side, even virtually, to gush or lash out with on something definitely feels good.

              Everything just felt so right and enjoyable that Y/N didn’t even notice the whole day passed with just her and Yoongi accompanying each other watching shows. Time has passed too quickly and now it’s five forty-five. Mina has already come home and she definitely sends Y/N a questioning look when she sees her chuckling on her phone. Y/N only flashes her a grin and mouths ‘just a bit more.’ Meanwhile, Yoongi has yet again started his “just five more minutes” hoax. Though that unexpectedly gets ended soon when Y/N hears Jeongguk’s voice pops up and asks Yoongi to come out and start preparing dinner. But just before Y/N could say goodbye and tell him one last time to “go hurry up and cook,” Yoongi interrupts her.

              “You know, this is my kinda type of a date.”

              “Thi-this is a date?”

              “Yeah. You’re spending time with me. I’m spending time with you. And we’re having a good time. So yeah, this is a date.”

              Y/N tries not to focus too much on what he said. “But how is this your type of a date? I thought you like bar dates?”

              Yoongi guffaws. “Where the hell did you get that?”  

              “Jeff. He said you’re a bar-type guy.”

              “Oooohhhh. So that’s why you suddenly wanted to have a date at Neo-Cloud 9 that day.”

              Y/N shyly looks down at her hands.

              “As much as I love alcohol, I don’t actually prefer drinking them in bars. They’re too noisy. Messy. And there’s a lot of people bumping into you.”

              “Then why did you agree to go to Neo-Cloud 9 when you also don’t like bars?”

              “Because you’re with me. You said it was your first time going in one, too, and I figured why not help you enjoy the experience.” Yoongi chuckles, “It’s not like I didn’t have fun with you anyway. In fact, I had so much fun. Especially at the part where you said you wanted to kiss me.”

              “Oh my god, Min.”

              “Don’t deny it anymore, sweetheart, I’ll—”

              Y/N ends the call though. But that seems pointless when her chat pops up with another message from the man.

              Min Yoongi  >;) (5:50 P.M.)

              “—make sure you’d remember it ‘til the die you die. I’ll live for as long as I can just to remind you of that.”

              Y/N (5:51 P.M.)

              “Sure. Whatever, Min.”

              Y/N closes her phone with a chuckle. When she turns around to finally gather her used utensils, she’s greeted by Mina’s curious stare.

              “You seem to be having fun with Yoongi these days.”

              Y/N opens her mouth but Mina immediately interrupts her, “Oh don’t you deny it. I’ve seen you smiling a lot these days. Even when you still rant about him, I could see you’re actually having fun.” 

              Y/N raises her hands, “Okay, I admit, I’m actually having fun. But I think it has to do with us agreeing to compromise for this 14-day deal. Not because of…him.”

              “But isn’t that good, though?” Mina asks, “This deal didn’t turn out as disastrous as I expected it to be. At least you’re trying to make the best out of it instead of busting each other’s heads off. Plus, a week has already passed. You only have seven days more. Everything will soon go back to normal.” Mina smiles, “Just a little more and you’ll soon get that benefit, Y/N.”

              Mina excuses herself and heads to the kitchen to start dinner. As Y/N plops back down on the sofa, she realizes she’s got her answer. It’s just seven more days. Just seven more days to fully enjoy this deal. After that, it will all go back to the way it used to and she’ll have her work all to herself again.  It wouldn’t hurt much if she chooses to turn down work for the first time and indulge in the last days of this ruse, right? The deal is bound to end soon anyway. It’s useless backing out now. She just has to make the best out of it.

              But why can’t Y/N find it in herself to be fully happy about this? 

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A/N| Hi hons! First of all, happy birthday to @wii-wii! I hope this post is not too late. I hope you had a wonderful day/night and may you always stay well and safe 💕

Thank you, hons, for waiting for the 2nd part of Act 2! Unfortunately, I don’t know when I’ll upload Act 3 as I’ll be prioritizing my fic first for @btswritingcafe​’s Map of The Soul Workshop. And after that, I’m going to write a short story I’ll have to submit for my university’s journal. After then will I be able to go back to my schedule for THH. Don’t worry though, I already prepared a detailed outline for the rest of the Acts of THH so I think I wouldn’t take too long fumbling what scenes to write. Anyway, if you wish to get updated when Act 3 finally drops, just PM me or send me an ask and I’ll add you to the taglist!

Update: Comment down below instead if you want to get added to the taglist! I think it will help me to track all of you hons once I post the update!

All Rights Reserved 2020 © Vanaera. Reposts, modifications, and translations of content are not allowed.

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 3.6}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.8k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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Unsurprisingly, working with Snape was absolutely demanding and still (or therefore) absolutely delightful. The Sunday evening they had started the slow process of making the potion, Robin had mostly watched Snape working and listened to him explaining what he was doing as he moved along. But over the days and weeks, she was allowed to do more and more herself, and somehow, miraculously, a second chair had found its way to the laboratory by the end of the third week. Being allowed to do more practical work, however, had come at the cost of Snape correcting literally everything Robin was doing for a good amount of time. Whether it was cutting something up, separating something else, or even something as simple as stirring… he always had something to complain about.

Robin loved every second of it dearly, even though she would accidentally sass him sometimes in return to his corrections of whatever she did. There also was no denying that she was learning more than she had ever expected, and even though the times when they actually had to work on the potion were not more frequent than two to three nights a week, she always looked forward to it from the very moment she left the lab in the first place.

Unfortunately the two months came to an end eventually, and Snape summoned her to the lab on a Saturday night in December to bring their work to an end with the very procedure this all had led up to. The restoration of the page. Honestly, Robin didn't know what to expect of it. They still had no idea what was hidden on that page, but she felt honoured that she was allowed to be here for the final revelation nonetheless. He was by no means obliged to keep her around at any point, especially not now, and Robin was well aware of that, which was what had led her to be all the more grateful in return.

"What do you think we will find on that page, professor?" She asked as she sat on her stool, observing how he placed the old book on the table, opening it to the two pages that enclosed the missing one.

"If I knew, we would not have to go through with this entire procedure."

"I know that you don't know… But what is your assumption? What do you think is worth hiding like this?"

"I do not know, Miss Mitchell." He sighed, but then turned to her as he lifted an eyebrow. "What is your assumption then, if you expect me to have one?"

"Well… I've actually spent quite some time thinking about this." She smiled to herself for a moment. Truth be told, she had been thinking about little else over the course of the last two months. "Seeing as this page is probably from the Renaissance, it would be something THEY deemed worth hiding. So I asked myself: What was worth hiding in the 15th and 16th century? The answer would be: basically the same as today. Sex and power, the driving forces of mankind since the very beginning. Now, I honestly doubt, or rather I want to doubt, that this entire spell is about sex, so I'm staying with power. The means to power are control and protection, which leaves us basically with weapons and security. Now back to the Renaissance: as far as I remember and as far as the library here allows me to research, most of the European countries weren't actually counties but basically a rag rug of principalities and such. That again leads me to believe that wars, especially of the magic kind, weren't actually fought on a scale large enough that would bring forth a weapon strong enough to be worth hiding like this. That leaves us with security, and thus protection. Which is, to finish this off, what I believe this page is about. A protection spell."

Mildly amused and badly hiding it, Snape raised an eyebrow at her once again. "You seem fairly confident in your thesis."

"If I wasn't confident in it, it would hardly be a thesis worth upholding." Robin smirked. "I would even bet my non-existent birthday presents on it."

"If they are non-existent, that statement hardly counts for anything, does it?"

Now Robin had to laugh out loud indeed. "True, unfortunately. But I'm still fairly certain about my thesis."

"Then we shall see if you are correct." Snape mused and finally moved on to follow the instructions in Robin's literature spell book. First, one had to make the potion. They'd done that already, at least. Then the potion would have to be drizzled over the part of the spine on the inside of the book where the page was missing. Snape allowed Robin to do this step, and it admittedly was an easy task, but she was only too happy to get to do something in this procedure at all. Next, the actual spell had to be spoken, which Robin gladly left for her professor to do, as she honestly didn't even know how to pronounce the words she'd read on the page. After that was done, the instructions merely said to wait, and then they would be done. So that's what they did, merely sitting on their stools and staring at the book while waiting for something to happen.

"Do you think it worked?" Robin asked after five minutes of silence, when still absolutely nothing had happened

"Yes."

"I honestly can't believe it was this easy after freaking two months of making that potion."

"Luckily efficiency not always correlates to effort."

"I hope you know that I'm very grateful that I got to help you in this, sir, no matter how difficult or easy it is. I've learned so much, and I truly believe that I've never felt so filled with… passion, and joy, and curiosity, in anything ever before."

"I know." It was a simple statement, but Robin understood what he meant to express. He wouldn't have made an effort to teach her any of the things she'd learned if he didn't know she appreciated it.

"Good." She returned with a smile, then looked at the book once more only to jump in her seat. "Bloody hell! It's glowing! It's actually working!"

Snape rolled his eyes, but still had to suppress the not-smirk at the same time, which was only a partial success, seeing as Robin still noticed it. "Of course it's working, Mitchell, get over it."

"Sorry." She bit her lips and tried to contain her sheer excitement, but it honestly was difficult. It was actually working! "It's just… a spell I found, in my book, with a potion we made, restores your book page! How amazing is that!"

"You seem to have had fairly few successes in your life if you get that excited over this one."

"Well, all successes I've ever had were utterly unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Getting good grades, winning minor quarrels, scaring scummy shop owners… It wasn't anything worth mentioning. But this could be something amazing! Something that actually matters!"

"We will see in just a short moment." He mused, then turned towards the book and once the page was entirely restored at last, he went to read it over once, twice, another time…

"And?" Robin asked anxiously, after giving him almost fifteen minutes to read that one single page. Nobody needed that long to read a couple words!

"Shush."

She rolled her eyes, but complied. If the past two months had done anything, they had proven to her that the odd amount of trust she put into Snape was actually justified. And thus she waited another ten minutes until he finally turned to her with a grave expression.

"Is… is it something… bad?" Robin tried again, and her insecure frown met his stoney gaze for a moment until she looked back at the book.

"You should read it." Was all he said, before standing up from his stool and busying himself with whatever he could to obviously distract himself from whatever it was he had just read. To think about it, perhaps.

In an instant Robin's eyes were glued to the book. It was a protection spell indeed! The grin was on her face immediately, and she felt proud to have come to the right conclusion. As she read on, everything became a bit clearer, and yet also a great deal more confusing. It wasn't a spell… it was a potion. After reading it a second time, she looked up from the book and her eyes found her professor's across the room. "Quite frankly, I'm not sure I understand."

"I would be surprised if you did."

"Why?"

"Because I am not certain I understand it either, and I would much prefer if I didn't."

"What?!" Robin frowned at him in honest question. "Why would you hope you don't understand? What exactly is it you believe to understand?"

"You were the one to guess that it was a protection spell. Why don't you tell me what you understand?"

"Alright…" Robin sighed and let her eyes travel over the page once more, before looking back up at Snape. "As far as I got any of this, it's a potion, not a spell."

"Good. Go on."

"Well, it is supposed to protect the person drinking it from the influence of any kind of magic. But not their own, somehow. So… it's like a two-way mirror, kind of. Nobody can magic you, but you can magic everyone else."

"Precisely."

"But…" Robin added reluctantly.

"But?" Snape frowned in return, clearly not having expected her to continue.

"Yeah, but…" Robin frowned as well, as she looked at the page once more. "It seems like this spell will only protect…" She stopped there, feeling like this was probably a really silly thought. If Snape hadn't understood it this way, it was probably wrong anyway.

"Do go on." He encouraged, or rather demanded though.

"It sounds like it only protects half bloods. Or maybe also muggle borns, I'm not sure… but definitely not pure bloods."

In an instant, Snape was by her side and looking at the book as well in an astonishing intensity. "Where did you read that?"

Robin pointed to a paragraph at the bottom of the page. "Here it says 'Only thee who is't hast ventur'd both worlds shalt beest the one who is't dwells in the safety of the beshrew's blessing'. In my opinion that would roughly translate to 'Only you who has ventured both worlds shall be the one who dwells in the safety of the curse's blessing' in modern day language. And seeing as the entire book is a mixture of the muggle and wizarding world, I just thought that those are what's meant with 'both worlds'. The only people who usually know both worlds are muggle borns or half bloods. So… yeah."

Snape read the short paragraph again, then looked up at Robin in sincere astonishment. "I believe you are right, Miss Mitchell."

"Wait, what? Really!?" Robin stared back at him in equal surprise and doubt, eyes wide as they searched for any sign of mock in his own. But he was entirely serious.

"It seems fairly obvious now that you pointed it out, but I must admit… I failed to notice it before." He commented, reading the paragraph yet another time.

Had he just-... No, surely not… but he definitely had admitted that she had found something he hadn't, right? Right?! Robin was too stunned to even give any proper reply, so she simply offered him a happy half smile.

"However I am not certain if this means that pure bloods cannot make the potion, or if it will not affect them, in disregard of the ones who made it." He mused after a few seconds, and Robin finally snapped out of her daze as the words sunk into her brain.

"Them?" She asked before she could stop herself from saying anything at all. "Do you mean… you're not…?"

Immediately he shot her a defensive glare. "That is not even remotely of your concern."

"I'm sorry." Robin replied quickly and while she still felt curious, she also regretted bringing it up. "I really didn't mean to pry, sir."

"Simply forget about it, will you?" He murmured, then turned towards the book once more.

"So… why does it matter if they cannot make it or if they merely cannot use it?" Robin asked for the sole sake of a change of topic.

"You know the answer to that." He replied with a pointedly annoyed expression.

"I do indeed…" Robin whispered to herself, then looked at the book in front of her, and finally to the ingredients on the shelves. She really had screwed this up, hadn't she… It had been truly stupid to ask him something that personal. "Sorry…"

"Don't apologise. You had a crucial part in the project, and this discovery is your merit as well as it is mine. A potion like this has been searched for for centuries, and would any of this become known… It would be revolutionary."

"...would? We're not going to… to tell anyone about it?" Robin asked in surprise, and a mild twist of disappointment. "But… we can try it out at least, right?"

"No." He replied with a quiet solemnity that made Robin's heart sink even further. "This potion is dangerous, more so than you likely realize."

"But how? Why?!" Robin asked in desperate incredulity. "What's wrong with protecting yourself against your enemies? This potion could help so many people…"

In a moment's notice, Snape turned to Robin entirely, not even an arm's length away, and looked down at her with such a seriousness and intensity that she inevitably shuddered. "Nobody can know that this potion exists. Not a single soul but you and me, do you understand that?"

"I do." Robin replied quietly, as she still looked up at him with sad eyes. "But please, at least tell me why."

"Promise me that you will never lose a single word about it to anyone but me. Not the other teachers, not a friend, not even Professor Dumbledore or the Minister of Magic himself." He really seemed to be dead serious about this, and Robin started feeling sick with anxiety again. If he truly wanted her to swear her silence, he had a reason to.

"I promise." She replied in complete seriousness and utmost honesty. "I don't know if it means anything to you, but I promise."

"It does." He replied a little less gravely, and took a step backwards, out of her personal space. "Coming from you, it does."

"Can you… please tell me why this is so dangerous? Please… I just wanted to understand." Robin tried once more after a moment of silence, not even caring if her begging was pathetic, but she needed to know.

"Do you know Oscar Wilde, Miss Mitchell?" He asked completely out of context, or so it seemed, and Robin only looked even more lost.

"Yes, I… I've heard of him."

"I thought so. He supposedly said: 'Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth'." Snape made a small pause, and Robin considered the quote for a moment before he spoke on. "In my eyes, the same principle applies for might. Make someone believe they are invincible, and they will show their true self in their actions. Now, I'm certain you are aware of the propensity of mankind to oppress their oppressors, if given the chance. What do you think would happen to the muggle borns after centuries of being oppressed by the pure bloods, if they gained access to a potion that makes them invincible?"

"Oh…" Robin's face softened from pouting incredulity to actual understanding, but her chest still felt painfully small for her thudding heart. "It-it could lead to some very serious damage in the world, I guess. There's always someone willing to start a revolution… but we mustn't give them an opportunity for that." She finally concluded on her own, nodding to herself as if to help the words sink into her mind and shake out the disappointment.

"Precisely." He confirmed, back to neutrality if not even a subtle touch of calmness. "That is why nobody can know of its existence. Do you understand that now?"

"I do… and I agree, even. I just didn't really consider that something so good could be used for something so bad." She sighed, picking at the buttons of her shirt subconsciously rather than by choice, and looked from Snape down to the book. "What do we… what will you do with it?"

"The very same thing the previous possessor did. Destroy the page, keep the book of nonsense safe." He replied as he sat back down on his own stool, and Robin could feel his eyes on her even though she kept staring at the book to hide her tears.

"So all efforts were for nothing, huh?" Her voice was throaty and thick, and Robin felt like they got stuck in her chest in the first place. She had been so focused on this whole thing, had put so much of her heart into it… and now it would be destroyed, and thus every chance of possibly continuing this out of class work with Snape was over once and for all. That maybe –no, definitely– was even worse than the loss of this remarkable potion that had been lost in the first place anyway.

"Will you stop being so dramatic, now…" He gave right back, feignedly scolding, but it did its job and Robin pulled herself together as he spoke on. "Nothing about this project by any means was in vain, seeing as we both learned a valuable lesson. And wouldn't you say it was our aim to solve a mystery rather than strive for material gain?"

Once again, Robin had to realize that Snape was right. Of course he was... It was ridiculous to be upset over this, she should be happy indeed that they had actually managed to solve the mystery. That she had gotten to help, and that she had gotten to learn so much over the last two months. In this new light, the tears stopped burning in her eyes and she could blink them away before looking up at her professor with an attempted half smile. Better.

"We definitely did solve the mystery." She said, and the smile reached her eyes a moment later. "And I definitely learned a lot from all of this, and from you, professor. It truly was a joy."

"Your understanding of joy is rather curious, if you consider being constantly corrected one."

"I consider potions a joy. And learning." Now she had to smile for real, and the sadness faded from her mind like clearing fog. This wasn't the end.

"That is… acceptable."

Robin had to snort at his choice of words. "It's 'acceptable'? May I ask, what did you learn, sir, if you say we both learned something from it? Is it just the spells and potions or… something else?"

His face went straight back into stony nothingness, and Robin believed she had said the wrong thing again as he got up and walked across the room to fetch an empty bottle, probably to store the remainder of the potion.

"I learned that at least one person in this school full of dunderheads is worth my time and efforts." He finally replied, likely as indifferently as he could manage, but the words were clear enough even without any means to convey them appropriately. Professor Snape deemed Robin worth his teaching. He didn't regret allowing her to help. Maybe he would even let her do it again. Robin's smile widened into a grin before she could help it.

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, I believe." She smirked before she could think better of it.

"Who said I was speaking of you?" Came his immediate reply, but now both his tone and expression clearly gave away the obvious tease. Robin found herself enjoying it… those extremely rare moments when he wasn't void of any sentiment, on the outside.

"I beg your forgiveness for being so pridefully assuming." She laughed, and there it was again, the sarcasm she got scolded for more often than not. And still Robin couldn't wipe the smirk off her face.

"Forgiveness granted."

"That was easy…"

"Careful."

"I'm in the potions master's private laboratory… whatever else would I be but careful?" While her tone was still anything but serious, he actually seemed quite pleased with her statement, and that made Robin smile even more. Slowly her cheeks were starting to hurt again… it was odd how she always seemed to go through a wide array of emotions in the shortest time spans whenever she was around Professor Snape. He was irritating, and everything he did was too. That must be it.

While Snape filled the remainder of the potion into the bottle he had just retrieved, and then labeled it and put it away into one of the shelves, Robin looked over the page with the dangerous-protective potion again (she couldn't find a name anywhere and thus that's what her mind had labeled it, for now). Would destroying it really prevent it from being found in the future? Sure, Snape was brilliant, but if a potions professor and a third year student could restore it almost by chance, then who said nobody else would in the future?

"Professor… can I ask you something?" Robin started her attempt to voice just that thought in a way that wouldn't possibly sound like an insult to him.

"You may ask, but there is no guarantee that I will answer."

"So… I was wondering if the spell we used to restore the page in the first place, and with spell I mean potion and spell and the entire thing, if, you know…" Just get the question out, idiot! "Don't you think someone like us will eventually do the same thing we did? I mean restoring the page that you're destroying now. Wouldn't that simply be a delay of things, if the next person finding it isn't as considerate of its dangers?"

He seemed to really consider her words for a moment, which he had done quite often over the last weeks actually, before he looked at Robin when answering. "That is possible, yes."

"So maybe… a repetition of history wouldn't necessarily be the… best idea?" Robin suggested vaguely and already made a face that clearly showed what she expected him to reply with. A scold, namely.

"What would you suggest I do instead?"

Now, she hadn't expected that. But she'd take the opportunity to voice her thoughts a little more in detail. "So this is the point where my logic kind of depends on my very limited knowledge of things, but… I was thinking, if there really isn't another possibility but to restore the page with a spell-potion-whatever thing like we did, then one should consider how the process of restoration works. From what I understand, the spell in my book refers to the destruction of the page itself which is, kind of, reverted by the procedure we just did as well. Seeing as you said two months ago that all the book restoration spells you tried didn't work in this case, that would –with a bit of corners and loops– mean, in the end, that the page needs to be destroyed first to be restored in the book. If it's not destroyed, while it simply being taken out of the book wouldn't qualify as destroying it I believe, one couldn't restore the page with the book alone."

"So?"

"So… You could take the page out of the book, but NOT destroy it. Because if the only means to getting the page back into the book is a restoration spell or potion, which in return only works if the page was destroyed in the first place, then nobody will be able to get their hands on the page if they have the book." Robin suddenly wasn't so sure about her idea anymore… what if he deemed it stupid? But she'd already voiced too many dumb thoughts around him to let that stop her now. "That of course would still leave open the possibility for the page itself to be found, when it's not destroyed, especially since it's no longer hidden by the book… However if you find out just what exactly counts as for the page being 'destroyed', you could always do something else to it to make it useless. Something that doesn't count as destroyed, and thus will make a restoration impossible, but will also make the page useless. In the end you will thus have a useless book, and a useless page, and neither can be made to function again."

"Where, pray tell, did you get that idea from in this instant?" He raised an eyebrow at Robin, but otherwise didn't give away what he thought of her suggestion. Idiot…

"I… think. A lot." Robin replied lamely. "I mean, I don't know much, and I can do even less, but I'm fairly decent at thinking… I think."

Snape rolled his eyes at that admittedly silly statement, and Robin tried to force the heat out of her face. For a minute, it was completely silent.

"Your mind truly is an ever-surprising quarry to delve in, Miss Mitchell…" He commented then, with a frown and a curious look at her, and while it wasn't really a compliment, his words still made Robin shiver for some reason. "I will consider your suggestion before making my decision about what is to do with the page and the book."

"Thank you, sir. I'm just glad it wasn't complete nonsense." Robin replied with a nervous chuckle, then scooted herself off her stool and awkwardly took a step towards the door before turning back once more. "Uhm, is there… anything else for me to do tonight?"

"If I'm not mistaken, you have an essay to write for my class." Aaand he was entirely back in professor-mode, scowl, bored indifference and all.

"I finished it last night, sir."

"I assigned it last night, Miss Mitchell."

"Yes, and I wrote and finished it after dinner. Proofread it this morning. Edited it this afternoon. All done now."

"The class really is too easy." Snape sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately, all the other students would fail if I made it any more difficult."

"Don't they fail as it is already?" Robin whispered more to herself than to him, and still received a glare and a not-smirk in return.

"Goodnight, Miss Mitchell." He said after two more seconds of silence, and Robin understood a polite invitation to leave when she heard one.

"Goodnight sir." She gave back before she let herself out, with a smile that didn't leave her face for the rest of the night.

_______________

It was almost a month later when Robin heard about the book, and the dangerous-protective potion again. Just as last year, she had decided to stay in the castle over Christmas break. However this year she actually knew from the start what she would be doing, and Professor Sprout seemed rather delighted about Robin's enthusiasm to help her out again. But one thing did change in comparison to last year. This year, Robin received a Christmas present. Not in the traditional sense, admittedly, but to her it would always be one all the same.

Seeing as she would only get the money from her parents once she would go home in the summer, Robin hadn't exactly expected to be given anything at all. And it surely wasn't given to her the way she would expect either. While usually the students who stayed here over the holidays received their presents in the common room upon Christmas morning, this is not how Robin came to hers.

Christmas arrived in a whirlwind of snow and cold, just like last year, and it also went that way again. Robin worked in the greenhouse most of the time, but occasionally she would be sent to Hagrid's for a change. She hadn't really had much contact with the man in question before this particular Christmas break, but seeing as Professor Sprout didn't require her assistance every single day, the herbology teacher still was kind enough to refer Robin to the gamekeeper. He wasn't the brightest fellow, admittedly, but good-natured and kind to the bone, and that made Robin like him in an instant. She helped him out with all kinds of things, from taking care of the magical creatures (which she unfortunately knew nothing about since she hadn't taken this particular class) to simple work in the school garden, and admittedly, she did learn a lot from Hagrid, too.

In the evenings Robin would still come to sit in Snape's classroom, alone, for she still couldn't stand to be in the common room even though it had become rather deserted. The overwhelming panic she had felt in the beginning of the term hadn't been back since, but Robin assumed that it was solely due to the fact that she had been avoiding situations that made her panic in the first place at all costs. Christmas came and went this way, without a present, but with a good lot of practical work every day. She actually felt content, with enough decent company throughout the day, and enough time to read by herself at night. The only thing that nagged at her mind from time to time was the absence of a certain potions professor from the classroom or his office in the evenings, but then again, she reasoned that since he still showed up for most meals, he surely was fine. Still, she felt worried about him. A little. An appropriate amount. It was perfectly normal to worry about someone you usually saw every day. Almost. She didn't let his absence stop her from making good use of his classroom every evening though. The first night she didn't spend in there was New Year's.

After her work of the day in the greenhouse was done, she got cleaned up and tidied her part of the room, then wrapped herself in her warmest clothes, and in sweet remembrance of last year headed out into the arcades that surrounded the courtyard at roughly eleven. With a soft smile she sat down in the same arch as last year, crossed her legs underneath her, and started to read her book on the care of magical creatures. Maybe she could convince some people to let her join the class after the holidays, if only she caught up with the class material before then. It's what she'd been trying to do ever since the first day of working for Hagrid, when she had discovered that magical creatures actually were a very much similar subject to herbology when it came to its usefulness for potions.

"Becoming predictable, are we?" Snape's voice called out to her even before he was anywhere to be seen.

"I'd rather say I've been spending surprisingly little time out here this Christmas." Robin replied with a smile, but kept her eyes on the book. At least she hadn't jumped again.

"What are you reading this year?"

"The textbook for the 'care of magical creatures' class. I thought about convincing whoever teaches it currently to let me join the class after the holidays."

"Where does the sudden interest stem from?" His voice had gotten closer now, and Robin believed he had once more taken a seat in the arch next to hers.

"It's surprisingly handy to know a bit about the creatures whose body parts and liquids we use in potion making. Just like it's useful to know herbology." She smiled to herself, eyes still on the book while yet she had stopped trying to read.

"Clever."

"That's what I’d rather hoped."

"Consider it done."

"What exactly?"

"Your inquiry to participate in the class. I will speak to Professor Kettleburn, and he will let you join once term resumes."

"Wha-... Thank you! That's… amazing! Really, thank you so much." Robin's eyes finally lifted off her book and she looked towards the arch next to her, but yet again could see nothing more than stone and ornamentation.

"Yes, well… just do me the favor and make sure you are not ahead of the class right on the first day already." He mumbled in the usual discomfort upon being thanked, and still Robin had to snicker at the comment.

"Then I better stop studying their textbook now and leave the last two chapters for another day." She commented with a grin, and indeed closed her book in her lap only to rest her forearms on it to lean forward just enough to get a glimpse of her professor in the next arch. He looked gnarlier than usual, if one could even say that about someone that young, and Robin seriously wondered what he'd been up to during the holidays. But it wasn't her place to ask.

Thus they merely sat in silence yet again, watching the snow falling slowly and calmly as the minutes ticked by without their notice. Robin did wonder for a moment why Snape was out here with her, but she dismissed the question when she couldn't even tell the reason why she was here herself. Maybe it was the calm, or the solitude. Even if technically it wasn't solitude in the first place, with it being the two of them, but still it was like solitude from all the stupid people. Just two people who understood the silence like a part of themselves. At least that's what Robin thought, and for her it was a good enough theory to stick to.

At last it was the noise coming from Hogsmeade again that made Robin aware of the turn of years, and she smiled to herself as she realized that she had spent another new year's out here with the potions professor. Maybe it was turning out to be an odd little tradition, just like Professor Sprout's –who had told Robin that she always spends new year's sitting in her room's window with a piece of cake, watching the fireworks in the distance– which she had told Robin about the other day. While Robin found the herbology teacher's tradition quite charming, she preferred her own that hopefully would come into existence for real. Just Snape, and silence, and darkness, and Robin. She could very well live with that. Too well, perhaps.

_______________________________

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[spencers-dria]

Trauma

Someone To Stay Ch. 9

Spencer x fem reader

It's been several weeks since Y/N and I started our weekly movie nights. After starting Harry Potter we decided that we would keep watching our way through the series until we finished them. Last week I was out of town on all of her days off, but tonight we get to watch our favorite together, Prisoner of Azkaban. Seeing as we both love Halloween, this doesn't come as much of a surprise.

Last time I had asked to borrow her Harry Potter cookbook. As a surprise I've been cooking pumpkin pasties. I normally don't do much cooking, but this was well worth it. Movie night has become incredibly casual, so i slip into some purple pajama pants and a black t shirt before driving to her apartment. We decided movie nights would all take place at her apartment, seeing as she had the nice TV with a decent sound system. I had previously spent almost all my time reading, so all I had was my mom's old TV tucked away in the corner, only used when I felt the need to binge Dr. Who.

It's not long before i'm knocking at her door, warm snacks ready to go. She opens the door and looks down with a huge grin.

"Are those what I think they are?"

I nod, glad to see she's excited about them. After a moment I notice a pleasant smell wafting from the kitchen.

"You made something too?" I peek my head into the kitchen hoping to discover the source of the scent.

Y/N pulls out two mugs topped with foam, smiling like a giddy little kid. We both take a sip, and I feel the warmth filling me up as I take in the drink that tastes like Autumn in a cup. I've never had butter-beer before, but this is perfect. I look up to see whipped cream coating Y/N's upper lip, and based on the laugh she's holding back, I would guess I am sporting the same foam mustache. We both bust out in laughter. Something about spending time with Y/N makes me feel like a kid again. I know I can share my knowledge with her and she actually encourages me to do it quite often. But she also makes me feel like I can be goofy and silly and just have fun. I had almost forgotten what that feels like.

After we each curl up on our end of the couch with blankets and pillows, I can't help but realize how happy I have been having her as a friend in my life. Something about this realization pulls my mind in the opposite direction, and I suddenly find myself remembering why happiness feels like such a long forgotten stranger...Maeve. The name had not crossed my thoughts in weeks. This realization leaves me with a guilt that sits like a pit in my stomach. Before I know it, I am no longer focused on my favorite Harry Potter movie, but am spiraling into a dark hole once again. I lose myself so far into my thoughts that I almost don't notice that Y/N has stopped the movie and is staring straight at me.

I turn to her. "What is it?"

Y/N furrows her brow, a deep look of concern filling her eyes.

"Spencer, you're crying."

"I am?" I reach up to feel the wet streaks left behind on my cheek. I hadn't even realized. Now not only have I been crying in front of Y/N, but she knows something is wrong. Knowing her, she won't let this go so easily. I also doubt she'll buy any lie I try to feed her. She may not be a profiler, but she sure knows when someone she cares about isn't being genuine with her.

Luckily, she must also know me better than I realize. She doesn't push me too hard for information. She scoots over to my side of the couch before laying a hand on my shoulder. I keep my eyes glued to my lap, avoiding eye contact as best I can. I'm afraid that if I look into her eyes now, I'll completely fall apart. Something about telling your friends about your trauma makes it very real, and I don't want to relive that day, not again.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not sure..." I answer honestly.

Instead of pushing me, she moves her hand to rub my back as we sit there in silence. Something about the kindness of this gesture finally breaks me. I let my head fall into my hands as tears start streaming down my face, and I don't even bother trying to stop them. I can't hold this back anymore, not from someone who's become like a best friend to me.

We sit there just like that for several minutes, Y/N silently rubbing my back, me crying like a big baby. Part of me feels embarrassed, breaking down like this, but the other part is too tired from holding all of this back to even care anymore.

Finally, I think my body has run out of tears when I hear Y/N say "What can I do? What do you need?" It's so quiet I almost miss it.

"Her name was Maeve." I am surprised to hear the words leave my mouth. I glance over to Y/N to gauge her reaction, but she's only sitting there, listening patiently.

"I started getting these headaches. They became so crippling that they started affecting my work. It scared me because...well my mom is schizophrenic. I guess I have always been a little paranoid about showing symptoms. The doctors ran tests, labs, scans...everything they could think of. As a last resort I reached out to this geneticist. After a bit of correspondence, it wasn't difficult to see that she was brilliant. She seemed to enjoy keeping in touch, so we would write one another letters. We eventually started calling one another. But...she had a stalker. She didn't know who it was or what they wanted, but she was scared. That's why we wrote letters. And I only ever called her from telephone booths, never the same one twice. I ended up sharing a large part of my life with her... One time before hanging up the phone she even said "love you" like it was the most normal thing in the world. I never said it back, but even if what I felt was love I never got the chance to say it to her. Her stalker was a former grad student, and she got to Maeve before I could."

I stop and take in a deep breath, swallowing the growing lump in my throat before continuing.

" She shot herself in front of me, killing Maeve along with her. It was the first time I had ever seen her in person too. It happened a couple months ago. Every time I think i've moved on it feels like the pain starts all over again. I sometimes feel guilty for even trying to move on, for ever being happy."

Y/N doesn't say a word as she lets me speak. She just nods, taking in every word. After a couple minutes of silence, she lets out a large breath before finally opening her mouth to speak.

"Spencer, I can't pretend to even come close to understanding what you are going through. I wish I had the answers. I wish I could tell you when the pain will go away, but the truth is it will probably never fully leave you. Trauma has a way of sticking with us. We learn how to process it and cope with it more efficiently, but it's never truly gone. Now I can't pretend to know what Maeve would have wanted for you, but as your friend who's with you now I want to tell you its okay to be happy. Its also okay to not be okay sometimes. No one has it together all of the time. It's ok to talk about it, to cry about it, and there's no right or wrong time. Trauma has a way of sneaking up on us, triggering us when we least expect it. And whatever you need to be ok, whatever you need to do in order to deal with this, I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you. You can always call me if you need to talk or come over. Even if you just need a distraction from it, if you find yourself slipping into a dark place, you can call me, and we will talk about literally anything else or go find somewhere to grab dessert or watch a movie. If you need someone to just sit with you, I'll be there. What I'm trying to say is whenever you're ready, just tell me what you need and I'll be there for you."

I feel like I could cry again, but luckily I don't. Instead, I turn on the couch to face Y/N and just pull her in for a hug, resting my head on her shoulder. This alone is all I need to at least be okay, even if just for tonight. As someone who lives alone, my only real family living across the US, no one ever really knows just how much I crave touch. It's not exactly like I can just approach JJ, Garcia, or Morgan and say "Hey I could really use a hug today." It's a love language for me, but I go weeks without touching a single person. It wears me down sometimes. Sitting here, hugging Y/N, is the most comforted I have felt in a really long time.

I want to tell her the other reason I'm struggling. About the cravings I have to battle when things are already emotionally challenging. I decide I'm not ready to share that quite yet. It's not that i don't trust her, but if it's going to affect the way she sees me, I want to put that off as long as possible.

I also take a minute to go over the words she's said to me. I can't help but notice her tone, her body language, the look on her face. She may be great at comforting people, especially since it's part of her job, but those were the words of someone who knew. She spoke from a place of fully understanding trauma, which tells me one thing: She has had trauma of her own. I make a mental note to bring it up later. I don't want to push her, but I want to make sure she knows she has the same support from me incase she ever needs to talk.

We sit there for a few more minutes, her arms wrapped around me. My breathing eventually slows down as I try to get my sniffles under control. I feel my head start to pound from how hard I have been crying. I sit back to rub my hands into my temples. Y/N stands up and makes her way into the kitchen, returning a couple minutes later with a cold water bottle, a box of tissues, and some aspirin.

She starts to walk out of the room before turning to me.

"I think I've got something that might help you feel a little better. It can't heal with heartbreak, but maybe it can help you to relax and take your mind off everything, if even for a little while."

"Y/N, you take care of people all day at work you don't have to..,"

"Hey!" She cuts me off before I can finish. "Why do you think I became a nurse huh? I enjoy taking care of people. And if I can help, even just a little, I won't feel so completely useless in this situation."

"Y/N, you've already helped. Just listening, being here with me. But I guess its no use arguing with you, you're too stubborn." A small breathy laugh leaves my nose and I glance up to see a small smile before she steps out of the room.

She returns a few minutes later and doesn't say a word. Instead she grabs both my hands and pulls me off the couch, leading me into the guest bathroom.

A take a look around at everything she had gotten ready.

"A bubble bath?" I shoot her a look of uncertainty.

"Just trust me okay." She rolls her eyes playfully. "I'll be in the living room. Just shout if you need me okay?"

I decide to just go with it. She leaves, shutting the door behind her and flipping of the lights. The room is suddenly glowing in light from candles scattered all around the bathroom. After slipping into the bath, I tense up at how hot the water is before it finally relaxes all my muscles. Breathing in, I notice the smell of eucalyptus and lavender filling the air. There is also a bluetooth speaker in the corner, softly playing zen spa music with the trickle of a rain in the background.

I have to admit, this is the most relaxed I have felt in...well I can't remember ever feeling this relaxed. Baths always seemed a bit girly, but this was incredibly therapeutic. I may have to try this again after my next difficult case.

When I finally decide to get out, I realize I'll have to change back into the same clothes. I quickly realize Y/N had also laid out a  star wars t shirt and black sweatpants for me. She thought of everything. With her being on the taller side and enjoying baggy clothes, they actually fit me fairly well.

When I finally step back into the living room she looks up at me and grins.

"Looking good Dr. Reid!"

She never calls me that, and for some reason it makes me blush just slightly. She pats the spot next to her on the couch, signaling for me to come over.

"Well, how do you feel?"

"Umm I wasn't sure about the whole bath thing but... I feel fantastic actually! How did you know that would help?"

"When you do what I do, you have to find multiple ways to unwind" she laughs.

I glance down at the shirt I'm wearing.

"So Star Wars huh?"

Y/N smirks "Are you really that surprised?"

I answer with a laugh "No I suppose not."

"Well I hope you like them too, because that's what I had lined up when it was my turn to pick for movie night!"

I can't help but hide a giant grin. I was happy to hear she wanted to continue our movie nights. Between all the Harry Potter movies and Star Wars movies combined, it seemed like we'd be spending a lot more time together.

"Is it okay if we finish the movie?" I am hoping I didn't completely ruin the night with my breakdown.

"I thought you'd never ask" she smiles before turning to the TV and resuming the movie.

As I watch the characters making their way into the shrieking shack, I feel my eyes grow heavy. I guess I had gotten a little too relaxed, as I am now struggling to stay awake through the rest of the movie.

When I open my eyes I notice the room is no longer glowing from the light of the TV but from the daylight streaming in through the windows. I realize i'm stretched across Y'N's couch, under one of her many fuzzy blankets. I sit up and look around, noticing Y/N is no longer there. After checking her kitchen and bedroom, I start to worry. Before I start to call her on the phone, I notice movement outside the window. I make my way onto the patio balcony to see her sitting on her bench with a book in her hands. At the sound of the door, she looks up and meets my gaze, smiling as she closes her book.

"Good morning sunshine" she says laughing just a bit.

"What happened?" I ask, joining her on the bench outside, running my hands through my hair as I attempt to fully wake up.

"Well, after awhile I noticed you fell asleep. I really thought it would be best to just let you get your rest."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..." I start before she cuts me off.

"Its no problem! Not last night and not any other time. You are always welcome here." She gives me a warm, genuine smile. I know this is a sincere offer, one I'm sure I will take her up on again.

[witchbithebooks]

Patents, Trademarks, Copyrights, Trade Secrets Protect Your Invention!

Patent numbers are provided sequentially, beginning with the number one. It took 75 years for the United States Patent as well as Trademark Office (USPTO) to provide patent number 1,000,000.

What does this indicate? Simply, there is more creativity since at any time in history. The old saw that "there is nothing brand-new" is entirely wrong. There have never been so many people as well as entities producing novel, special items, innovation and also services, and so driven to commercialize these inventions. Much more licenses and also business owners attempting to market their items is indicative that there is even more competition for effective positioning.

To try to market an invention without covering the work with the shield of patent, hallmark, copyright, or profession secret protection indicates a pointless method that will certainly not be successful. Investors, licensees, and also capitalists demand the defense that these intellectual property products manage. You can also get help with invention

He never prepared for that Coke would become a global comfort item, the soft beverage. The most intelligent point John Pemberton ever before did, besides inventing Coca-Cola, was to take care of the secret formula for the syrup as a Profession Trick. To this day, the Coca-Cola Bottling Business zealously shields the active ingredients as well as chemistry involved in generating the base syrup that is the significance of traditional Coca-Cola.

Large Kid Restaurants protects the dish for the tartar sauce that goes on their sandwiches, and that numerous customers buy by the container and take home. McDonald's doggedly secure the process their dining establishments use to cut, prepare, and also season their French-fries. William Wrigley was just as manic in keeping secret his method for supplying powerfully flavored, resilient, chewing periodontal.

Trade Tricks typically are not able to safeguard patent security. The novelty of the Trade Key is in the mixing, chemistry, or chronology utilized to deliver the finished item.

If your item has the possible as well as requirement to end up being a Profession Secret you will certainly desire to comply with numerous very standard actions. As you finalize your growth work hallow all of the steps necessary to deliver the finished item you wish to maintain the key in a dish or recap document.

The Trade Secret gains unbelievable property value when your item comes to be a market success. Offering a business developed around a fully secured Trade Secret tremendously boosts the value of the company. Coca-Cola, Betty Crocker, Duncan Hines, Oil of Olay, Schlitz, Dom Perignon, Ben, and also Jerry's, as well as Estee Lauder's Young people Dew are just a couple of instances of renowned brands constructed around a Trade Secret.

A Hallmark is essential in developing a brand understanding of an item. Use a Patent Attorney when approaching the extremely specialized area of seeking Hallmark protection. I have never seen a business owner efficiently browse the extremely complicated functions of the USPTO. I HAVE seen lots of efforts to deal with the procedure, all causing total failing.

The material of a Hallmark can include a personalized, determining symbol, stylized trademark name, and a branding declaration. Nike uses the well-known slash (icon) the Firm's name (identifiable stylized font) and "Just Do It!" (branding statement). Include all of the aspects that the public will certainly identify in your Hallmark application.

Pat's Cheese Steaks in Philly is a regional service that has gained great popularity as well as brand recognition and protects their brand with a trademark. Chanel, the French haute couture brand name, is internationally admired and also the traditional "C" that adorns every system of Chanel item is one of the most acknowledged brand name symbols in the globe.

Having a Trademark provides a commitment to police as well as safeguard the assigned mark. The incorporation of (TM) on every unit of product is vital. Once more, get in touch with an attorney. Trademarks can inadvertently become abandoned and also shed.

Copyrights are utilized to protect intellectual property. We always copyright the guidelines and/or the play attributes of the game.

Lately, Dan Brown, the author of the hugely successful publication "The Da Vinci Code", was suited for plagiarism by the British authors of a book concerning the search for the Holy Grail. The search for the Holy Grail is main to the story of the "The Da Vinci Code". There are full collection racks dedicated to the search for the magical Holy Grail. And yet, throughout the run-up to the film release of "The Da Vinci Code" a lawsuit including this copyright was begun. Brown and also his author intensely protected their legal rights under their Copyright protection. They won complete vindication from the court.

Producers of intellectual web content buildings (motion picture workshops, record labels, book authors) are extremely hesitant to approve unrequested proposals for evaluation. Legal activity is raging in the area of intellectual residential or commercial property. We all bear in mind things that we saw, listened to, or experienced from the remote, however dim past.

Mattel, as well as Hasbro, will not review ANY outside toy entries. Is it not accidental that there has not been an advancement plaything introduction in years from Hasbro or Mattel? This is one of the regrettable by-products of a litigious society, the limits put on required technologies. Secure your intellectual property with a Copyright.

I suggest to my clients, before investing a cent on a patent attorney, that they perform a brief search at the USPTO.Gov web-site by giving all evident keyword phrases applicable to their invention. The comprehensive search will validate the capacity for efficiently acquiring patent protection.

Patents are the favored style of security for many inventors as well as entrepreneurs. Patents (energy) are very powerful representatives of protection versus killers, thieves, as well as rip off musicians. Not to be a boor, but, again, use the solutions of a patent attorney. I am always impressed and amused at the number of individuals I think they can efficiently create, offer extremely certain 3-D CAD art, file, manage USPTO arguments and also move the patent through the labyrinth of a Federal Government administration. Go Figure! They waste time and cash and also usually negate any kind of possibility to have a re-filed patent efficiently obtain a patent number.

The Provisional Patent declaring is a letter that is positioned on data with the USPTO. The Provisionary filing encourages the USPTO of the description of the product you are trying to establish. The letter has a 1-year life cycle and must be prolonged with an official patent declaring (Utility or Layout) or the item is left forever.

We utilize the Provisional Patent as a completely lawful way to state that an item in early-stage development is Patent Pending. A Provisionary Patent filing also makes it possible for the business owner to have a one-year time window to examination as well as scale market action to the invention.

A rival only requires to change a layout aspect, cosmetic attribute, or include a craftsmen version to get rid of a Style Patent. For products that have the real commercial capacity, however, can not get over prior, existing item art to get a Utility Patent, the Layout Patent offers one possibly crucial benefit: the alternative to keep a product suspended in ongoing Patent Pending status.

We have done this for some celebrations. A simple modification to the preliminary declaring indicates that a politician at the USPTO needs to locate the file, pick it up, put the modified filing information as well as re-log the filing. Therefore, the filing goes to the back of the line and we gain months more Patent Pending defense.

When a product is in the Patent-pending mode it has the best defense. When a patent number is provided the clock starts ticking on the effective life of defense and information of the novelty of the trademarked product comes to be public understanding.

By maintaining a product in Patent pending limbo we keep the attributes shrouded from any public understanding. This usually leads to a first to market advantage as well as competition is only aware that there is a Patent pending.

The Utility Patent is exceedingly useful, both as a safety guard against competition and also as an organization possession. The invention that obtains an Energy Patent number from the USPTO is the possibility of a passion for licensees, companions, financiers, as well as equity capital. Many trademarked items (Utility), however, never make it to market. We often see unique inventions, and also hence patent possible, yet not a business, or need, or valuable. Most of us understand a mad scientist or more, with limitless layouts, inventions, as well as patents, none of which are ever going to be a market success.

[clevercatchphrase]

2020 Year Review~

2020. Pretty unique year, don’t you think? It’s the first year since 2002 to have only two different digits in it. After 2022, this won’t happen again until 2111. Yep. Absolutely nothing more interesting than that.

Anyway! It’s time I reflect on my 2020, look back on my yearly goals and rant about things that happened to me this year. I made a post like this last year, where I went over my 2019 goals and talked about what I accomplished and what I didn’t, and it’s only fitting I do the same again this year. Read more under the cut for a random stream of consciousness ramble!

So, first things first, let’s look at my 2019 goals;

Finish paying off that last student loan

Put more stuff on my redbubble

Illustrate my own fan fics

Sew at least one stuffed animal

Make an enamel pin

Read one new book a month

Write one page a day/Complete at least one new fan fic

Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make

Finish fully scripting Ghost Switch

Boost my patreon

 Paying Off My Last Student Loan: Going down the list, I am proud to say that I FINALLY paid off all my student loans! (and not a moment too soon. The last payment I made was literally days before the first quarantine rolled out). It took me roughly 4 years on my part-time paycheck to pay off all my loans, and once I finished, I had no money to my name (literally; I had less than 1k as emergency money in case of car troubles or health issues). Heck, I’m STILL living at home as a save up for a place of my own. Finally paying off all my student loans DID activate my secret 2020 new year’s resolution, which was to adopt a cat! I did this too, literally a week later! She is the best thing that’s happened to me this entire year and I love her so much and she is the snuggliest cuddle bug I’ve ever met. I’m so happy she’s in my life now~

Put More Stuff On My Redbubble: ah ha ha ha… I thought I did this, but then I went and checked, and it turns out-! I did not. I made art I intended to go on my redbubble, but haven’t put there yet. They are all drawings of some OCs from a game I want to make, but because I haven’t progressed on making the game this year, I never got around to putting more stuff related to it on my redbubble. At the time of writing, there are 7 days left in December, so I guess I could go and put it up on my redbubble right now, but without context on where the characters are from, there wouldn’t be much point, now would there?

 Illustrate My Own Fan Fics: Another goal that I was so stoked to actually do… and then just didn’t. Gee, I wonder why I couldn’t find the energy or motivation to do it this year? Truly a conundrum. (Hey, you know what? If Ghost Switch counts as a fan fiction in a visual form, then I am doing GREAT on this goal. 2.5 years in, 1 of ~4 arcs done, and still going steady~)

 Sew At Least One Stuffed Animal: Okay, I have a valid excuse for not doing this one. I even knew which stuffed animal I wanted to make, and had the pattern drawn out and everything, but I had no money for materials because I had just paid off my student loans. And then, by the time I did have enough money again, quarantine was in full effect and I couldn’t go out to the fabric store. I’m still trying my best to stay out of public places even if the rules are laxer now, because I don’t want to catch the plague even if everyone in my goddamn city thinks and acts like the problem is over already. Even if they’re all wearing masks, even if they’re staying 6 feet apart, I still don’t want to risk it. I will stay inside until health experts give the all clear, and when that day comes, then I will buy some fleece and make a plush.

 Make An Enamel Pin: I ACTUALLY DID THIS ONE. TWICE! Halfway through quarantine, I was feeling anxious and depressed about my job and how they were planning to have me work with the public despite climbing infection rates and positive covid cases. I didn’t quit then, but in a desperate move to try and become self-sufficient, I went to madebycooper and made two enamel pins based on some butterfly dragons I drew last year. They’re on my etsy store now! I even went out of my way to open a P.O. box just to start a small business! I haven’t sold a single pin yet, and I’m actually really nervous to sell my first because I don’t trust the efficiency of the postal system thanks to the actions of the GOP that really screwed them over this year! (If you would like to see my enamel pins, click here!)

 Read One Book A Month: I did this! With dragon books I bought a couple years back! In fact, I read FOURTEEN dragon books, and still have more books for next year to read! The 14 books I read this year were:

 The Hive Queen

The Poison Jungle

Wings Of Fire Legends: Dragonslayer

Dealing With Dragons

Searching For Dragons

Calling on Dragons

Talking to Dragons

The Bronze Dragon Codex

The Brass Dragon Codex

The Black Dragon Codex

The Red Dragon Codex

The Silver Dragon Codex

Dragon Strike, and

Hatching Magic

 To be honest, I had read The Red Dragon Codex years ago when it first came out, but completely forgotten what it was about. I remembered liking it, and I knew the reading level was on the lower side, but the whole dragon codex series was pretty good! So far, the Silver dragon codex was my favorite, and black dragon codex was probably the worst! Hatching Magic was also really slow and bad and had plot points that went nowhere, but the book was written in the 80s, so I don’t know what I expected. The Dealing with Dragons series was very charming and great for the most part, save for one line in the last book that really rubbed me the wrong way, and all the Wings of Fire Books go above and beyond in this third arc. The second legends book could be a little tighter, though (sky and wren are the best duo and I want a book solely about them, but I honest to god do not care about leaf and ivy’s stories.)

 Write one Page of any story every day/ complete at least one fic: I… did this? Okay, I kinda cheated near the end of the year. I was keeping up the one page a day thing for the first four months, but then the world went to shit and my schedule and habits got disrupted and I fell off my good track record. I completed 7 out of roughly 12 one-shots I had planned for this year (my goal WAS supposed to be one short a month, but… you know how it happens) I kept trying to catch up on this goal all year, but the days kept piling up…. Until November hit. I managed to write over 250 pages for Nanowrimo, and I consider this goal a win. 365 pages of fiction in total, which averages out to about one a day~. SHUT UP IT COUNTS.

 Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make: Another goal I didn’t have the mental energy to commit to this year. Truly a mystery to where all our willpower went in 2020.

 Fully Finish Scripting Ghost Switch: still haven’t done this one yet! The Snowdin arc is completely planned, but I just haven’t gotten around to getting the other areas. I’m not worried, though. I know all the major plot points I gotta hit, it’s just weaving them together in a way that flows nice is the final task. I’m not too worried though. I don’t expect to finish the Snowdin arc for another year and a half, at the bare minimum.

 And my last goal of 2020, Boost My Patreon. I did this at the beginning of the year, but then very intentionally stopped about a third of the way through. It didn’t sit right with me to tell you guys to donate to me when suddenly EVERYONE was financially strained from layoffs or being furloughed. I told my patrons the same, and if you ever need to stop donating to me to take care of yourself first, then by all means, please do. I would feel much better knowing you’re using your money to see yourself fed and housed instead of given to me (where it is pretty much only used to buy gas for my car, honestly)

 Welp! That was all my goals for 2020! I achieved 4 out of 10 goals plus 1 secret goal! Pretty much the same ratio as last year, but now this time I can blame all my failures on the pandemic! I don’t feel so bad about myself anymore~

 ON TO 2021!

 I have 11 goals for the new year, again some rolled over from this list, and some from even older years. They are, in no particular order;

 Read 12 new books (roughly 1 book a month)

Finish the first draft of 2019’s Nanowrimo project and rewrite it

Script TDV

Finish Scripting Ghost Switch

Build A Comic Buffer

Sew 1 Stuffed Animal

Finish 1 Song Comic

Make another Enamel Pin

Finish 2 short original comics (this one counts as 2 goals)

Finish the 5 remaining one-shot fics

 Now to go into depth on each one, more for my own sake, really. I want to know exactly what I have planned for each goal this year, and sometimes just looking at a short list doesn’t capture all the smaller details.

 1)Read 12 new books. Same as last year! I The only difference is I might not be able to make it all dragon-related books. (I try my hardest not to buy from amazon anymore, but half-price-books doesn’t always have the obscure stuff I’m looking for)

 2)Finish 2019’s nanowrimo project. If you read my 2019 year reflection, you’ll notice I said I wanted to do some original writing. And I did! The story I wrote for nanowrimo back then was a story I’ve been toying with since 2017, but it was only last year I finally got pen to paper. Now, you may find it odd that the keyword says “finish”. You may think, “but isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for nanowrimo?” and to that I say, WRONG! I wrote 50k words for nanowrimo, but the draft was only about halfway complete. I was kinda discouraged about what I had written last year, because I didn’t like how it was coming out, but I did manage to get it half done. Now it’s time for me to bite the bullet and just finish the thing so I can finally revise it and make it into something I DO like. (It’s still gonna be hella long, tho. That’s what I get for trying to write an epic fantasy, I guess.)

 3)Script TDV. TDV is the abbreviation of the game I want to make. I… still need to do so much for this project OTL… In addition to getting the story solidified, I still need to draw art and game assets, and learn how to code for it, both of which are no small task. I keep having some sort of new year’s goal related to this on my list, and every year I just don’t hit this one. Will 2021 be different?

 4)Finish Scripting Ghost Switch. (Or at the very least, get the waterfall arc completely written out). I have a plan to break this down into simpler steps, by focusing on just one arc for a month or two. Every major arc has 2 to 3 parts, broken up by flashbacks, and if I can just finish one section a month, then I should have the entire thing scripted by the end of the year. It’s not a difficult pace, but seeing if I stick with it will be the real challenge, as it is will all my goals it seems.

 5)Build a Comic Buffer: I’m actually working on this one right now! Since I paid off my last loan and got a new job this year, my current Patreon goals are kind of out of date. They had all been centered around me paying off that last loan, and working towards full-time employment, but those are both completed now! So instead, I would love to get to a place where my patrons could read pages at least a week ahead, and to do that, I need to build a buffer. And since I’m working 5 full days a week now, I can’t afford to fall behind. But you can’t fall behind if you constantly stay ahead! I would like to have… a 10 to 12 page buffer. That’s roughly 3 months’ worth of pages to always have on hand in case I get swamped with work, or something. Right now I currently have a buffer of 3, which will cover me for half a January, which is better than not having anything at all, but still not the best. (ultimately, I would love to have a buffer so big, I could queue them up for the whole year. Wouldn’t that be something?)

 6) Sew one stuffed animal: same as last year. ASSUMING the plague gets under control in 2021, I don’t expect to get to this goal until the summer at the earliest.

 7)Finish 1 song comic: I have 7 song comics planned. One is a gift, one possibly for wandersong, one is a collab that’s currently in the works, but I’m waiting on a friend to do their part before I can continue mine, 2 are UT related, and 2 (well, technically 3, but one is the collab) are KH related. It’s one of the UT ones that will probably get finished, if I’m being honest. It’s completely story boarded, and now I just need to ink and color it. I would like to get it done for UT’s 6th birthday, since I made a song comic on the fly for the anniversary this year, and it was fun, and I’d like to do it again! So, look forward to that next september~

 8) Make another enamel pin: I have a dolphin design I’d like to make because dolphins are cute, if not little murder machines. (need to save up some expendable income first, tho. THESE THINGS AIN’T CHEAP TO MAKE.)

 9 and 10) start and finish 2 original short comics: I’ve got some comic ideas I want to do, but I need to get them written out first. I don’t think either would be too long. Each maybe a couple “episode’s” length, if envisioned on a website like webtoons or tapas. They’d both be heavy in allegory, but not overly drawn out (hopefully)

 11)And lastly, Finish the 5 remaining one-shots I had planned for this year but never got around to. I’m going to try to write one every other month. Pure self-indulgent shipping fluff. If I finish these 5, then maybe I’ll ask other people for more prompts and ideas, which I’ve never done before. We’ll see how it goes~

 Also, Like last year, I’d like to look at everything that’s happened to me this year, though to be honest, I’m not sure how much I remember/how accurate it’ll be. God, I don’t even remember what January was like. Who was I back then? Who were we all back then? I guess I’ll start my yearly retrospective in march because, heh, god we ALL know what started happening in march.

 Firstly, I paid off my last student loan! Then a week later on March 18th, I drove half an hour out of my city to adopt a cat and I love her and it was the best day of this year for me. Spring break is just beginning this weekend, but the attendance at the zoo is shockingly low this year. Apparently, a lot of people watch the news, and they’re all taking precautions about social distancing. I wasn’t too disappointed. Fewer people at the zoo, the easier my job is for me. I was looking forward to getting some free overtime on spring break, since I’m broke after paying off that loan, and I’m a cat parent now and have a furry child to feed. Monday rolls around. My manager calls me and tells me that the zoo is going into lockdown until further notice. I worry for the birds I take care of, but understand it’s for everyone’s safety.

 For two months I sleep in and watch way too much YouTube. I join a couple writing discords. I have nightmares about my birds escaping their enclosure and I dreamed one of the security guards I really like at the zoo gets covid and has to go to the ER. I woke up really upset.

 I started and finished BBS for the first time. I also replayed and finished KH2 final mix for the first time. It had been about 5 years since I last played KH2 before my PS2 died, and it was like coming home~ I also finished tearaway, and played and beat Ryme for a second time (which I can’t remember if I did that last year, but it was a fun experience regardless)

 Mid-June, and I’m allowed to start going back to work, be it on reduced hours. The zoo is still closed to the public, but I’m loving it! I get to work with full-time keepers and do full-time keeper things. It’s so much fun not having to deal with the public. August starts to creep up and there’s a rumor that the zoo will be opening to the public again, which I’m not stoked about. I don’t want to go back to standing in one exhibit all day, talking to guests who don’t listen to the rules or to me. 2 of my younger coworkers (who had both only been there a couple of months) get chosen for full-time positions, while I get passed up which really pisses me off. My other 2 coworkers quit when they think we might be reopening because they cannot risk catching the virus due to at-risk family. I am now the last keeper in the interactive bird exhibit.

 I keep working, the zoo slowly opens, but with me as the only interpreter in our interactive bird exhibit, we can’t open because I can’t run the entire exhibit by myself. So my exhibit stays closed. September comes and goes, and then October starts. Now there is more serious talk of opening my exhibit before the end of the year because the zoo expects to bring in larger crowds for the Christmas lights event in November/December. I ask if I get hazard pay or health insurance since I’m doing full-time hours until they hire more staff. They say no.

 I immediately start searching for a new job feeling incredibly indignant/hurt/slighted/insulted/used/abused/ALL the negative feelings at my job. I had been there for 4 years, but never got a chance to work full time, while the two newest hires who had only been there 2 months both got moved up. I can’t help but feel they were holding one mistake I made two years ago against me and never wanted to give me a chance. (that, or they knew I was reliable when it came to showing up for work in such a volatile position that sees a lot of new faces, and they didn’t want to bother going through the process of hiring someone new) I don’t want to risk my life working around guests who don’t wash their hands and don’t properly distance. I don’t want to gamble with my health when they won’t offer me health insurance because I’m part time.

 Mid October, I get an interview for a full time job and get hired on the spot. I peace out at the zoo 2 weeks later, literally 3 days before they planned to open my exhibit to the public. It was a close call for me to escape before they opened to the public (and pettiness was only partially the reason I dipped out so close to opening). Sorry new hires who are now in charge of the bird feeding exhibit. I taught you the best I could in the short time I had. If the managers are struggling with what to do with one less person, I can’t say I feel bad. I can only hope they delayed opening/closed you down again for your own safety. You are not lightbulbs. I really hope the higher ups stop considering you as replaceable as one. Will I go back to the zoo to visit? Probably. But not for a year at least.

 I started my new job the very next day after I quit the zoo, and have been there ever since, (which isn’t that long yet, tbh. Christmas day was my 2 month anniversary). It’s full time, but it’s also a small business, and everyone’s hours this year have been on the short side due to the plague. I understand, though. They don’t want us to work if they can’t afford to pay us. Everyone is nice enough, though some people smoke and it’s hard to avoid them with how frequently we have to go in and out, and I really don’t want to get lung cancer, sorry not sorry, please and thank you. Also, with such a small team, gossip is certainly harder to go undetected, so it’s a relief knowing people don’t talk behind one another’s backs.

 I participated and beat my 4th nanowrimo in a row, I made TWO apple crisps on thanksgiving, and made baklava on Christmas and both of these recipes were my first time making them, and they both came out adequately! I voted the first day of early voting, and I did an art trade/collab with two of my friends for my birthday! (normally we would have done monthly “art days” where we get together and do art projects for fun because we’re adults and we can spend our time together however we want, but the plague said otherwise this year) We drew pokemon and it was fun! (hopefully I can show you all the results soon. At the time of writing, I’m still waiting for the last two colored parts to get back to me)

 I reached 100 pages on my undertale comic, and finish the first arc out of…! (im not sure. It’s either going to be 4 or 5, I haven’t decided yet)

 Over all, I managed to stay healthy as far as I know. I wasn’t as productive as I wanted to be this year, but then again, who was? (don’t answer that. I don’t need that kind of comparison in my life right now)

 Will 2021be any better? Honestly? I don’t think so. Not right away, at least. Just because a new year is about to start does not mean the slate is completely wiped clean. The change of the calendar year doesn’t magically make all our current problems disappear. Covid will still be here and cases will still climb when January starts. Small business will still be strained when the month rolls over, police will still go on murdering innocent civilians and getting away scot free, amazon and disney will still be monopolizing all consumer goods and media, and I can’t help but feel like there’s an impending shit show about to go down on inauguration day. I do hope things will get better, though. It’ll be arduous and unpleasant, but I do hope things will improve, because sometimes hoping is all you can do.

 Good night.

[acanvasofabillionsuns]

these fools need to learn communication

for @figurative-siren-song‘s Thing!! credits to the fabulous @main-chive and @an-absolute-failure for betaing ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥

Summary: I think the title says it all tbh Warnings: alcohol mention, insecurity, catastrophizing, Virgil panics some + doesn’t have good self care habits, one (1) curse word, Remus is mentioned Wordcount: just a little under 6k

Additional note!! The section that begins with “Remy and Janus are cuddling on Remy’s bed...” is a repeat of the previous scene, but from another POV

Virgil is so tired. It feels like every day there’s some new crisis to deal with or important thing to discuss, and he just wants a couple days to himself to unwind a bit.

But since he can’t get that, he wants a few hours to gripe with someone over everything that’s been going down lately.

Roman is way too dramatic for his tastes, and Patton would probably be too nice about what’s happening. So he goes to Logan. (He briefly toys with the idea of going to one of the Others, but things are… tense with them, so he discards it quickly.)

“Yes?” Logan asks, opening the door to their room.

“I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to complain with me about all the stuff that’s been happening lately? There’s been a lot, and you’ve probably had to deal with more of it than me, and I thought you might like to commiserate? It’s chill if you don’t want to, though,” Virgil says, shifting awkwardly.

“You are welcome to join us.” Logan opens the door wider and steps to the side.

“Us?” Virgil echoes, confused, until he goes inside and sees Janus sitting in a beanbag chair, swirling a wine glass idly. “Oh.”

“Lovely to see you too, Virgil,” fae says dryly.

Virgil scrunches up his nose and wonders if getting to complain about all the recent shenanigans is worth spending time in faer company. Janus mimics the expression—is fae mocking him?—and holds up a bottle of wine, shaking it a little to show that it’s still mostly full. Virgil sighs, shrugs, and conjures a plain beanbag and wine glass, collapsing into the former and holding out the latter to Janus. Fae obligingly fills it, and Virgil leans back in his beanbag, sipping it as Logan sits down.

“So what’re we talking about?” Virgil asks.

“Y’know the other day when…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil squints at Remy.

“Not to be rude,” Logan begins, but Virgil cuts them off.

“What are you doing here?” He demands.

“Real welcoming, Virgil,” Janus remarks snidely.

“He’s intruding on our thing!”

“Yes, and it’s not like you intruded on our thing only a month ago and we were hospitable, right? You totally have the right to snap at Remy.”

“Shut up.”

“Y’all are gossiping, babes,” Remy says. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Virgil opens his mouth to protest automatically, then finds that that’s a fair point. Remy does love gossip. He shuts his mouth reluctantly.

“Welcome to the group, Remy,” Janus declares, overexaggerating faer words and smirking at Virgil. He makes a mocking face back but doesn’t comment, crossing his arms as Janus conjures up a beanbag chair for Remy. The little pest. Now everyone but Virgil has a beanbag chair rather than a plain beanbag; this was absolutely deliberate.

Virgil scowls at Janus and sinks further down into his beanbag, letting the conversation flow around him without paying attention to what’s being said. Whatever; at least his seat isn’t a specific shape and therefore can be squished into a different position or turned upside down and still be the same. See any of them try to do that with their chair-shaped beanbags, only good for one shape and if you wanted to shift positions you had to make do with what you had, instead of adjusting the beanbag.

“Virgil?” Logan asks.

“Wh—yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

Virgil pushes himself more upright and sits on his hands. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure, babes?” Remy tilts his head down to look over his sunglasses at him.

“Yeah.” Virgil forces a smile. “Just… need to readjust my beanbag.” He stands up and flips it over, squishing it in a few spaces until it’s like he wants. The other three watch him in silence, making the affair at least twice as awkward as it would’ve been if they’d ignored him. Virgil sits back down, face red. “What’re we talking about?”

“These two were telling me about something that happened with Roman yesterday?” Remy says.

“Oh my gosh,” Virgil groans. “Okay, what do you already know?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a crisis, Virgil is having a crisis, a dilemma, a predicament, an emergency; sound the alarms, clang the warning bell, and gather the troops, Virgil has a crush.

This shouldn’t be happening! Not allowed! He’s too emotionally unstable to handle it and will mostly likely make a fool out of himself. Which is also absolutely not allowed.

And! The crush is on Janus, which is yet another not allowed thing. Last Virgil checked, he was still just tolerating faer presence, not getting a crush on faer. That’s just plain rude of his brain, please take it back he doesn’t want it.

He looks up at his ceiling, since that’s as far back as Virgil can roll his eyes without being in pain. Okay, he’s staring his brain down, and he’ll stop having a crush in three, two, one—

He pauses, thinks of Janus, groans. That didn’t work. And to be honest he didn’t really expect it to, but it still? would’ve been nice? if his brain could work with him for once??

Virgil sighs and flops backwards.

Okay, if demanding his brain stop having a crush didn’t work, maybe he can just… avoid faer. Maybe it’s just infatuation or something—doesn’t infatuation happen right after you meet someone? His brain asks. Shut up, he tells it—and if he stays away for a few days it’ll go away. That’s probably it.

He glances over at his minifridge and small hoard of non-perishables and mentally calculates. He’s got enough for about a week, that should be plenty enough time.

Virgil waves his hand and his door locks. There. Now he can just. sit around and avoid thinking about Janus until this crush/infatuation/whatever-it-is goes away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is great, Remy is having a great time, get some bells to ring and a rooftop for him to shout off, because Remy has a crush.

To be accurate, he has three: on Janus, Virgil, and Logan. He isn’t exactly sure when they started, only that he just now realized he has them, but he’s definitely not complaining.

He’s also definitely not going to sit around and pine silently for them or something. If he’s going to get rejected, better to get it over with and work on healing than let himself think there might be a chance for however long. (And, yeah, it would definitely hurt, if one or all of them didn’t like him—hurt a lot—but he’s ignoring that part.) And the revelation is giving him an extra burst of confidence (and it’s not like he didn’t already have that in spades) so he’s going to shoot his shot as soon as possible.

His brain decides the most efficient way to confess to the three of them is to wander around the mindscape until he finds them, so he does that until he bumps into Logan.

“Logan,” Remy declares. “I’m gay.”

“Yes,” Logan says, pulling out their flashcards and flipping through a few of them before pulling one out and showing it to him. “‘We been knew’ that, Remy.”

“Nice,” Remy compliments, throwing an arm around their shoulders. “But you see, my dear nerd, I’m gay for you.” He pokes their chest for emphasis.

Logan turns bright red and alternates between wordlessly gaping and stammering so hard Remy can’t make out anything they’re trying to say. They extract themself from Remy’s arm and smooth out their tie, their blush toning down only slightly.

“I… will have to think on this,” Logan says finally, which Remy interprets as Logan for ‘too gay rn; need some time to calm down and consider my feelings’.

“Cool; take all the time you need,” Remy tells them, flashing them a peace sign. “I’m gonna go find Janus and Virgil, see you in a bit.” 

“Alright,” Logan says, and Remy takes that as his cue to wander off in search of his other two crushes.

The next one he runs into is Janus, who he immediately tells “I’m gay.”

“No,” fae snarks. “I thought you were straight.”

Remy gasps and scoffs offendedly (at the same time, because his need to be Dramatic™ at all times overrides any petty things like biology, especially when he’s been teased).

“Well, I was going to say I’m gay for you,” Remy tells faer, pressing a hand to his chest. “But if we’re on such a disconnect I’m just not sure anymore.”

“No, wait!” Janus says. “I’m gay for you too, darling, please.”

Remy immediately decides that any pet names for him are illegal; his face has no right blushing like that just because Janus called him ‘darling’. He covers his face, hoping that’ll hide the blush.

“Fine,” he mutters.

“What was that?” Janus smirks. “I couldn’t hear you through your hands, darling.” Fae gently takes his wrists and pulls his hands down. “There’s your gorgeous face.”

“Rude,” Remy huffs.

“But you’re gay for me anyway,” Janus purrs.

“I regret telling you that.”

“No you don’t.”

“No I don’t,” Remy sighs. “You wanna be boyfriends? Or partners or something, if you don’t want to use ‘boyfriends’?”

“I would love that,” Janus smiles.

“Great, me too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan knocks on Remy’s door.

“Come in!”

Logan walks in, sees Remy and Janus cuddling together, puts two and two together and gets four. Oh, they think, they’re dating.

Logan walks in, sees Remy and Janus cuddling together, and squares the twos instead of adding them. I took too long to answer, they assume. Remy must’ve gotten bored or didn’t want to wait and got with Janus instead.

“Oh,” they say. “My apologies. I’ll leave you two be.” They turn to leave.

“Wait, babes,” Remy says. Logan turns to see him stretching out a hand towards them. “What’d you need?”

“I did not need something, per se,” Logan mumbles. “However, I was going to accept Remy’s implied proposition, though it seems I misinterpreted it.”

“Hon, speak up, I can barely hear you,” Remy tells them. “And use less nerd talk; what I could hear I couldn’t understand.”

Logan sighs. “I interpreted your informing me that you are gay for me as you indirectly asking me to be in a relationship with you, but it seems that was a misstep on my part. If you don’t mind, I’ll be taking my leave now before I embarrass myself further.”

“Wait, why do you think I don’t want to be in a relationship with you?” Remy asks.

“It appears that you are dating Janus?” Logan says. “Did I misinterpret that as well?”

“No, we’re dating, but I wanna date you too,” Remy tells them. “If you don’t like Janus like that you don’t have to date faer, as long as you’re cool with sharing me.”

Logan blushes. “That would be satisfactory.”

“Janus?” Remy looks over to faer.

“I’m fine sharing,” Janus says.

“Actually,” Logan admits, blushing harder. “I feel I should confess that I harbor romantic feelings for you as well, Janus—and Virgil too, while I’m admitting these things—though if you do not wish to be in a romantic relationship with me then I am perfectly content to be metamours with you.”

“I’m certainly not opposed to dating you,” Janus tells them.

“So we’re all dating each other, then?” Remy asks.

“It certainly seems that way,” Logan answers, at the same time Janus says, “Yes.”

“Great.” Remy grins. “Come join the ‘yay I’ve got new boyfriends’ pile, Logan.” He pats the empty patch of bed beside him. Logan wrinkles their nose fondly and sits beside Remy, who pulls them down to sprawl across his stomach and onto Janus’s lap. Logan squawks, and tries to pull themself back up, but Remy pushes them back down, declaring, “No sitting up allowed.”

Logan snorts and looks over to Janus. Fae leans forward to kiss their forehead and then settles back against Remy’s side.

“Traitors, the both of you,” Logan huffs, though they can’t stop the smile spreading across their face as they say it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remy and Janus are cuddling on Remy’s bed when someone knocks on the door.

“Come in!” Remy calls. Logan walks in, looks at the two of them.

“Oh, my apologies. I’ll leave you two be.” They turn around. Remy stops them and needles them into admitting that Remy had asked them out—the exact same way he had asked Janus out, fae notes—but that was “a misstep on their part” somehow.

“Wait, why do you think I don’t want to be in a relationship with you?” Remy asks.

“It appears you are dating Janus? Did I misinterpret that as well?”

“No, we’re dating, but I want to date you too,” Remy explains. “If you don’t like Janus like that you don’t have to date faer, as long as you’re cool with sharing me.”

And Janus knows he’s just explaining the situation and Logan’s options, but wow, way to let faer have a say in whether or not fae wants to date Logan or share Remy with them. Fae’s fine with both, but that’s not the point.

“That would be satisfactory.” Logan blushes a pretty shade of pink and unkind thoughts who? Janus doesn’t know them.

“Janus?” Remy looks over to faer, silently asking for faer opinion, and that also helps.

“I’m fine sharing,” Janus confirms.

“Actually,” Logan says, blushing harder and it looks like Janus might just have a new favorite color, wow. “I feel I should confess that I harbor romantic feelings for you as well, Janus—and Virgil too, while I’m admitting these things—though if you do not wish to be in a romantic relationship with me then I am perfectly content to be metamours with you.”

“I’m certainly not opposed to dating you.” Janus grins.

“So we’re all dating each other, then?” Remy asks.

“Yes,” Janus says, while Logan answers with, “It certainly seems that way.”

“Great.” Remy grins. Between that smile and Logan’s blush, Janus just might die from gay. “Come join the ‘yay I’ve got two new boyfriends’ pile, Logan.”

Logan wrinkles their nose—how is faer boyfriend so cute—and sits down. Remy pulls them down on both his and faer laps, and he and Logan struggle briefly.

“No sitting up allowed,” Remy declares, and Logan snickers and looks over to Janus, looking a little like they’re trying to ask for help with their eyes. Janus, being the good boyfriend fae is, kisses their forehead.

“Traitors, the both of you,” Logan accuses, smiling.

“You love us, though,” Remy says.

Logan sighs. “I suppose I do.”

“And,” Remy continues. “You said you like Virgil?”

“Yes,” Logan confirms. “Is that a problem for either of you?”

“None here, babes,” Remy says.

“Here either,” Janus adds. Fae kind of fades out the conversation after that, watching Remy and Logan talk and trying not to let faer negative thoughts get the best of faer.

Because fae can’t help but notice how Logan had confessed to Remy before faer. And Remy had asked Logan out before asking faer out.

And Janus knows they both like faer! They’re all in a relationship! Currently cuddling together!

...Still stings, though. (Fae still feels a little like second place.)

“Janus?”

Fae looks up. “Yeah?”

“What do you think of asking Virgil to join our relationship the day after tomorrow when we do our Thing?” Logan asks.

“Sounds good,” Janus says, smile only a little forced. Fae put faer thoughts firmly aside and rejoins the conversation, enjoying the warmth and comfort of faer boyfriends beside and on top of faer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan frowns, tapping their foot anxiously a few times.

“Should we give him another few minutes?” They ask. “It’s already been fifteen.”

“I don’t think he’s coming.” Remy says.

“He’s hidden himself away for a few days before, but he’s never missed our Thing,” Janus points out.

“Yeah.” Remy frowns. “Wonder what’s wrong.”

“Me too,” Logan says.

“You think we should go ask him?” Remy asks.

Logan hums, considering it. If Virgil hadn’t come out for their Thing, whatever was keeping him in his room was serious. “Maybe give him another day or two.”

“Alright.”

Janus grimaces, tapping faer foot rapidly. “Do… do you guys want to do it anyway, even though Virgil’s not here?”

“No,” Logan says immediately, shaking their head.

“Me neither,” Janus sighs, slowing their tapping. 

“Lo, I know you said to leave him alone, but do you think we could still give him a note or something?” Remy asks, frowning. “I’m worried.”

“I am as well,” Logan admits. “And I don’t see why not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil sighs and pulls his headphones off, unplugging them from his phone. His legs are a little achy, which is probably a sign he’s been sitting for too long and needs to stretch or something.

He wanders over to the pub table he’s got in the corner, thinking that could be a good spot to set his phone while he dances to music (no one’s around to judge him, it’s fun, and it’s a good way to stretch his legs, okay?). 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees something white on the ground by the door. Crouching down to examine it, it looks like a piece of paper someone folded in half and shoved under the door. Frowning in confusion, he unfolds it.

“Hey, Virgil!” it reads. “It’s been a few days since you emerged from your room and we’re a little worried. Hope you’re alright! Missed you at the Thing today.” It’s signed by Janus, Remy and Logan, though scribbled to the side is the addition, “Apologies for Remy’s poor grammar. I hope you are well. -Logan”

Virgil’s brain latches onto “Missed you at the Thing today.” They’d done it without him? It was their Thing and they’d just excluded him? Had they only noticed he hadn’t left his room because he wasn’t at the Thing? Were they upset he wasn’t there? Like ‘where in the world were you; we had to do the Thing without you’? You aren’t a necessary part of the group, his brain whispers to him, but you bailed on them and they’re mad about it.

Virgil clamps his hands over his ears and plops to the floor. Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, he tells his mind. They don’t hate me; they gave me a letter to check in with me while respecting that I might not want to come out and not wanting to force me to.

Really? Or maybe they just couldn’t be bothered to do more than shove a note under the door.

Shut up.

Virgil focuses on doing his 4-7-8 breathing method and firmly ignores his mind telling him his friends now hate him. When his breathing is finally steady and his brain’s stopped hissing poison, he slowly relaxes his muscles and takes his hands off his ears.

Your friends are still your friends, he reminds himself. They’re concerned about your wellbeing, not mad at you, and they still like you.

Platonically, his mind adds sourly. Virgil frowns at the thought.

So far his plan to get rid of his crush on Janus had only revealed his crushes on Logan and Remy as well. Turns out when you’re avoiding thinking about one friend you like, your mind will just go to your other two friends and present some shiny new ‘liking them as more than friends’ idea to you. Which is just more incentive to hide in his room as long as he can.

Virgil sighs, standing up and placing the note facedown on the table. He’s got the majority of a week before he has to face anyone, and even if he doesn’t feel like dancing anymore, he’s still got plenty to do to occupy his time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan knocks firmly on Virgil’s door.

“Virgil,” they call. “It has been five days since anyone has seen you outside your room. This has not happened before and we are all concerned. Please come out to ease our worries.”

No answer. They wait a full minute, their fist still half-raised from knocking, but still nothing.

“Move, please,” Remy says, inserting himself in Logan’s place as they step out of the way. He begins knocking loudly and quickly, barely a step down from banging. “Virgil! Get your pretty ass out here!”

No sign Virgil’s heard anything.

“Maybe he’s asleep?” Logan suggests.

“At 4PM?” Janus asks. “Virgil doesn’t nap and even a night owl like him doesn’t sleep in this late.”

Logan frowns. “Virgil is not an owl—”

“It’s an expression,” Remy explains.

“Ah.”

“Virgil,” Janus tries. “We’re all really worried. Please just open the door? You don’t even have to come out, just let us know you’re alright in there.”

They all watch the doorknob hopefully for a minute. When nothing happens, Remy sighs.

“I don’t think he’s comi—”

There’s a little shrsh of paper brushing against something as a post-it slides under the door. Janus snatches it up eagerly and the other two crowd beside faer to read it.

“I’m fine. Not coming out, sorry.”

Remy sighs again.

“At least we know he’s alright?” Logan offers.

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaning against them. “I’m just worried, y’know? Just a post-it doesn’t really help.”

“I do know; I’m worried too. However, there is nothing we can do to get Virgil out of his room, short of forcing our way inside and dragging him, until he’s ready.”

“Yeah,” Remy says again.

“Wanna go cuddle until we all feel a little better?” Janus offers. Remy smiles softly.

“Yeah.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil scowls at his minifridge. It’s empty, the traitor, and he’s run out of all the food in his room. He has to go out and possibly encounter other people. A tragedy.

He leaves his room at midnight, of course. Less chance of running into people, plus then when Roman makes a comment about how “it’s nice to see you’ve finally emerged from your room” Virgil can laugh at his confusion when he tells him he came out of his room a while ago, princey, where’ve you been?

Less chance of running into people doesn’t equal no chance, unfortunately, and Patton is in the kitchen baking cookies when Virgil comes out to raid it. A weird time to be baking, but Virgil will probably get warm cookies out of it, so he doesn’t question it.

“Hey, Pat,” he greets.

“Hey, kiddo! Good to see you.”

“You too,” Virgil says, shooting him a finger gun. “Anything interesting happen while I was in my room?”

Patton hums thoughtfully. “Remus switched the sugar and salt and the flour and powdered sugar this morning. I borrowed the Lilo and Stitch DVD the other day and Roman and Remus got in a fight about whether or not Roman was hiding it from Remus. Logan stayed up all night on Tuesday and collapsed around lunchtime Wednesday. Janus found another snake in the Imagination and Roman had to steal it to return it home. Oh! Logan and Janus and Remy all got together.”

Virgil freezes. “Like, got together and talked like the four of us usually do?”

“Nope! In a relationship. About the time you hid away in your room, actually.” Patton giggles a little. “It’s been really cute; Remy and Janus carried Logan upstairs after his allnighter and they’re all very sweet together.”

“Oh,” Virgil says, trying not to sound hopelessly crushed.

“Virgil?” Patton asks, turning around to look at him. “You okay?”

He forces a smile. “Just peachy.”

Patton snorts. “I doubt that, but I won’t pry if you don’t want to tell me.”

“Thanks,” Virgil says, smile more genuine now. “Anything else to report?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” Patton says. “But if you like, I read a really good book the other day and I could share the plot with you?”

“Sounds good,” Virgil tells him, pushing himself up on the counter as Patton launches into a rambly explanation of the storyline. They pause in the middle to pull the cookies out of the oven, and then munch on them as Patton finishes the story.

“...And then it ends on a nice, hopeful, the-future-holds-great-things ending!” Patton concludes.

“Nice,” Virgil says, shooting Patton a little smile, who returns a beaming one. “Thanks for telling me about it.”

“Thanks for listening!” Patton returns.

“Do you mind if I…” Virgil gestures towards the cookies.

“Take as many as you like,” Patton tells him. Leaning forward conspiratorially, he adds, “If you take all of them and someone washes all the dishes, then the others won’t know there were cookies to have in the first place.”

“Thanks, Patton.”

Virgil scoops up the rest of the cookies—about a dozen or so—and bids Patton goodnight before heading back into his room. He gets a little resealable baggie to slide all the cookies into and sets it on his table.

Then, with nothing else to occupy his mind, he dwells over the fact that Janus, Remy, and Logan are all in a relationship.

Patton said they’d gotten together about the time he locked himself in his room. Had they noticed he wasn’t anywhere to be found and immediately gotten together? And then only given him the note and knocked on his door out of a sense of obligation or something? And maybe because they were mad at him for missing the Thing? They wouldn’t do that.

Would they?

He doesn’t think so.

He hopes not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What?”

“Hey, Janus, it’s okay! He’s probably just sleeping or something!”

“No, he doesn’t get to come out at midnight after he’s been in his room for a week and then not come out for breakfast or something so the rest of us can know he’s alive!” Janus fumes. Fae marches over to Virgil’s room and bangs on the door. “Open up before I kick the door down!”

Janus gives him three seconds before fae backs up, planning to kick the door down. Fae could do it. Fae’d seen an article online.

“Jay, honey, wait,” Remy says, putting a hand on faer shoulder. “I’m upset too, but I’m not going to kick his door down.”

“No, because I’m going to do it for you.”

“Can we not kick my door down?” Janus turns to see Virgil, standing half in his doorway, but still out of his room. Fae immediately drags him all the way out and into a hug.

“Only if you promise not to do that again,” fae tells him.

“Fine,” Virgil sighs. He half raises his arms, then hesitates.

“Hug me back, dummy,” Janus demands. Virgil chuckles a little and hugs faer. After a bit longer, Janus gives a final squeeze before releasing him, moving back a step and brushing faerself off. “That was because I missed you, but if you breathe a word of that to anyone I’ll prank you for a week.” Fae punches him. “And that was because you worried me, jerk.”

“Ow!” Virgil rubs his arm. “Sorry for worrying you.”

“Try not to sound too sincere now.” Fae crosses faer arms and rolls faer eyes.

“I really am sorry for worrying you,” Virgil says. “All of you,” he adds, looking over to where Remy and Logan had been silently watching their exchange.

“You’re forgiven,” Remy tells him. “If I get a hug too.”

Virgil shrugs loosely. “Sure.” He hugs Remy, then turns to Logan. They open their arms, and Virgil sinks into them. Janus steals another hug from Virgil once he pulls away from Logan.

“Sap,” Virgil teases.

“You can’t prove anything.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things have… gone back to normal. Technically.

Virgil hasn’t hidden away for longer than a day again, and even then, it only happened once. They’ve kept doing their Thing every week or so, and to the outside observer nothing would appear different than it had been before.

But it’s… kind of like when one “cleans their room” by shoving all their stuff into a closet. The room may appear neat, but things haven’t been put in their place, just pushed to the side to be ignored.

Similarly, there seems to be a barely-there tension in their interactions with Virgil. Logan doesn’t usually notice it, but sometimes, in lulls of conversation or merely at random intervals, they’ll feel it, simmering under the surface of things. They don’t like it, both because tension, as a rule, is uncomfortable, and because they don’t know why it’s there.

They suspect it has something to do with why Virgil locked himself in his room for a week. He still hasn’t told them why he’d done it, shrugging off any questions or deflecting the conversation away from the topic.

They also think it probably has at least a little to do with the fact that Janus, Remy, and themself still have not informed Virgil of their relationship.

Virgil is smart, and very observant. He has almost certainly picked up on the fact that the three of them are dating. He is also the type of person to pretend he doesn’t know something if he feels it is being kept secret from him, and the type to internally question why information is being “withheld” from him, and assume it is something he has done.

Logan knows this, and has been pushing Janus and Remy to tell Virgil about their relationship. Janus and Remy think they should wait longer, give Virgil more time. The first couple of weeks after Virgil emerged from his room, Logan could excuse, because they’d been rediscovering their rhythm. But enough time has passed that they have all settled back into their rhythm and now they need to inform Virgil of their relationship and correct any misconceptions he most likely has over why they have taken so long to tell him.

To return to the bedroom comparison from earlier, Logan has never been one to shove things into a closet and proclaim a room clean. Everything should be put in its place and the only things to go in the closet should be things that belong there.

This weird tension and putting off informing Virgil of their relationship do not go in “the closet.”

So, a month after the week Virgil locked himself in his room, Logan opens the figurative closet door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re in a relationship,” Logan tells Virgil at one of their Things. Janus and Remy’s gazes both snap over to Logan warningly, but the cat is out of the proverbial bag and this has been a long time coming anyway. “Remy, Janus, and I.”

Virgil stares for a moment.

“Cool,” he says finally. “Congratulations.” And then, since he’s a petty jerk, “Since I locked myself in my room for a bit, right?”

The three of them exchange glances.

“Yes,” Janus tells him.

“How’d you know that, doll?” Remy asks.

“Patton told me.” Virgil half-shrugs. Before he can stop himself, he adds, “Saw your chance and took it, huh?”

Logan blinks. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s nothing,” Virgil says. If he tells them, they’re going to “correct” him, even if he’s right and they just feel bad about it.

“Um, no, that’s clearly not nothing, hon,” Remy sort of laughs, though his expression is serious. Virgil shrugs again, this time with both shoulders.

“Virgil,” Janus commands. “Tell us.”

Virgil rolls his eyes and tips his head back so he doesn't have to look at them. “I’m just saying, we’re all sort of a group, and you didn’t want to feel awkward with the three of you getting together and me not, so once you noticed I was out of the way, you took the opportunity and asked each other out.”

“No,” Remy corrects, because that is so far from what actually happened it might as well be on the other side of the planet. “That is definitely not what happened, V, dear.”

“Sure,” Virgil agrees, in a way that says he clearly doesn’t believe him but doesn’t want to fight over it.

“You think we, what—saw you locked yourself in your room and decided that was a good chance to exclude you?” Logan asks incredulously.

Virgil snaps and points at them. “That would be what happened.”

“That’s not what happened,” Logan insists.

“Look,” Virgil says, tilting his head up to look at the three of them. “You don’t have to lie to me to be nice or spare my feelings or whatever. I get it.”

“I don’t think you do,” Janus tells him.

“Then explain it to me.”

“I realized how gay I was,” Remy explains. “Ran into Jan and Lo, asked them out, and we all got together. We decided to ask you at the next one of these Things we had, since that was the next time we were guaranteed to all be together alone. When you didn’t show up, we got worried but wanted to give you space, so we mostly left you be until Patton told us you’d come out and then we pulled you out of your room because we figured you were ready enough to come out.”

“And then, what, you just chose not to tell me you guys were dating for a month?” Virgil asks.

“We were trying to find a good time,” Logan tells him.

“It’s been a month; there’s been plenty of time,” Virgil snaps.

Then he stops, tilts his head to the side.

“Wait…” he says slowly. “Did— Did you say ‘ask me’? Like, ask me out?”

“Yeah, duh,” Remy replies.

“You guys like me?”

“I doubt we would hang out with you every week if we disliked you, Virgil.” Janus rolls faer eyes.

“You guys like me romantically?” Virgil amends.

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

“Duh.”

Virgil curls himself up, burying his head in his knees as he processes this. Remy gently lays a hand on his knee.

“It’s okay if you don’t like us back, or only like one or two of us, hon,” Remy tells him. “But we’d like you to join our relationship, if you’ll have us.”

The knee starts trembling under his hand, and Remy realizes Virgil’s crying. “Oh, hon…” He gathers him up in a hug.

“I—I thought you were avoiding telling me because you didn’t want me to know,” Virgil stammers through his tears. “I thought you’d noticed I left and saw that as your chance to get together without me being around. I thought— I thought—” He starts crying too hard to talk.

Remy holds him, and Janus and Logan move over to them and help whisper assurances that no, they would never, that they love him so much and they’re so sorry it came to this. Their hands on his knee and back and Remy’s arms around him are bright spots of warmth that Virgil relishes.

He cries until he thinks he can’t, until one of them murmurs, “We’re here; we love you,” and sends him to fresh tears. He cries for an hour, at least, and when he’s truly sobbed out all the hurt over this inside him, the other three are still there with him.

“Sorry,” Virgil whispers, not fully trusting his voice.

Logan frowns. “What for?”

He gestures a little to the huddle they’re in. “Messing up this. Crying on you guys for like an hour.”

“You haven’t messed up anything,” Remy assures him. “And we’re happy to let you cry on us all you want.”

“Better than shoving your emotions down and ignoring them as they fester,” Janus adds.

“Yeah, I guess.” Virgil nods and scrubs at his face. “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” Logan says.

“This might be a bad time,” Remy says, “and feel free to tell me off if it is, but does this mean you want to be our boyfriend?”

Virgil laughs, a little wetly. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”

“Good,” Remy says. “We would, too.”

“Celebratory ‘we gained a boyfriend’ cuddles,” Janus declares, pulling them over to the bed. No one resists, and they cuddle until they fall asleep on each other.

[doctorslippery]

1 - A kamakaze ship filled with tnt runs directly into your port

2 - Cargo arrives with undocumented prostitutes hidden as stowaways.

3 - Political exiles arrive as stowaways, asking for asylum. The empire they fled demands their return, threatening to embargo your port.

4 - There are reports of a livestock disease going around overseas. You are asked to shut down imports of foreign livestock.

5 - A noble landowner imports high quality, yet highly explosive fertilizer. However, his plans to transport the fertilizer fell through, and he asks you to hold the fertilizer in your port for a few days in exchange for extra gold.

6 - Cargo filled with highly taxed luxury goods arrive. You are asked to count the cargo as "essential items" to avoid the associated taxes in exchange for gold.

7 - Banned books arrive in your port. Although you are not offered much to look the other way, looking the other way might be the right thing to do.

8 - Refugees seeking asylum arrive in your port.

9 - Weapons for an insurgent group in a neighboring kingdom arrive, you are asked to look the other way.

10 - Unregistered exotic pets arrive in your port. You are offered gold to look the other way.

11 - Diamond jewelry arrives in your port. The importer has exploited a legal loophole to import them tax free, but you may demand otherwise.

12 - A ship captain cant afford the docking fees. They request time to sell their cargo, so they will have the money to pay any taxes or fees.

13 - Brawl on the docks (ship crew, dock workers, city guard, merchant)

14 - Catch someone trying to smuggle items (onto / off of) a ship. d100 Smuggled Items

15 - Ship collides with another ship in your harbor. Now the two crews are involved in a large brawl on the docks.

16 - Ship comes in too fast and collides with the dock. (ship is damaged, dock is damaged, both ship and dock are damaged)

17 - One of the pilings has come loose and the dock is now sagging dangerously, threatening to dump everything and everyone into the water.

18 - All of the pilings have suddenly shifted, leaning the entire dock to one side.

19 - An enormous cast of crabs has climbed up onto the docks and is eating all of the fish they can find.

20 - A single enormous crab has climbed up onto the docks and is eating sailors, fishermen, and even the town guards.

21 - Local birds are crapping on literally everything and everyone.

22- A local magistrate is demanding the docks be closed unless an exorbitant fee is paid to keep them open.

23 - A local noble is blaming everyone in sight for a missing delivery and trying to open every sealed container to find it.

24 - A powerful storm out at sea, not too far away from your port, has ship wrecked many ships. Those who seek any survivors want to use your port as a base of operations, and its up to the Harbormaster to organize them.

25 - Rumors of a haunted ghost ship circulate around the port. Many of the more superstitious sailors take this as a bad omen, and now will not set sail. This is setting the entire port behind schedule, and now you, the harbormaster, have to think of a way to quell their fears.

26 - A special ship, unlike any you've seen before and claiming to be from a far away land, is carrying the most peculiar live cargo you've ever laid your eyes on. A live young dragon (can be any type depending on the alignment of the sailors) rests in the cargo hold, and its starting to cause many problems. From scaring the locals, to now destroying a house, you have to find a way to get the sailors to get a move on (or free the dragon if its good) but the sailors seem to be taking a liking to your port.

27 - The Young Dragon (mentioned above) was not forgotten by his/her kin. A group of dragons comes to rescue them, and they are hellbent on seeking vengeance. You need to find a way to stop the dragons from destroying the port, or convince them to let you go in peace.

28 - A boat owner in the port is operating an unlicensed houseboat AirBnB.

29 - Ship comes to port to resupply. It's clearly carrying slaves as cargo to sell in a different city.

30 - There's been rumors that slaughterships (ships that hunt whales, walruses, etc. Grueling, disgusting, and dangerous work) have been using charm/suggestion/sleep spells to trick people to come on board. The ship sails away before the magic wears off, forcing the person to be crew of they want to get back home.

31 - Ship arrives with a magically living figurehead. (Robin Hobb, Ship of Magic, anyone?)

32 - Gnomes/artificers arrive in a metal clad steam-powered ship. It could explode at anytime. Or they need some rare ingredient to power it they will pay big money for the heros to find.

33 - A very inconspicuous ship arrives towing the Black Skull, a infamous pirate ship. The pirate ship is deserted.

34 - Dragon turtle attacks. It craves treasure.

35 - The port mysteriously runs dry.

36 - An earthquake happens, expect a tsunami!

37 - Bunch of nobles arrive in yachts/pleasure vessels insisting this is the weekend of their regatta and they need the harbor cleared.

38 - Bioluminescent plankton moves into the harbor at night. It's strange and beautiful but otherwise has no significant effect.

39 - The harbor is fed by a river. The town upstream is dumping their trash, causing big problems for the port town.

40 - After an earthquake, the river mysteriously changes color one day. It becomes acidic, eating away at the hulls and injuring people and killing wildlife. It only happens for a short time before washing out to see but earthquakes could happen at anytime...

41 - Every night a strange green fog rolls in. Sailors have been going missing. The fog is a vaporized gelatinous cube that dissolves beings caught at a certain depth within it. (Or replace with a similar threat)

42 - Two very large cargo ships with expensive cargo have crash into one another. Littering the port with the cargo and attracting opportunists.

43 - A local noble is demanding that his yacht be given the most convenient priority docking position by reserve. He is not offering anything extra for it outside what anyone else would pay, maybe even less. His nobility is all he thinks is needed.

44 - A strange quake happened in the night. When you awoke the port was filled with large sharp rocks. A light house will be needed for this to continue to be a port. (The rocks are a family of large earth elementals. If someone climbs on them, the elementals attack.)

45 - A strange mold is rotting holes in the hulls of ships within a couple of days. It is beginning to spread throughout the port.

46 - A bloody and cut up being comes screaming for help from one of the docked ships. Obviously they have been attacked from something or someone inside the ship. Once boarded, the characters find a ship full of demonic paraphernalia, the being was being sacrificed by someone and escaped.

47 - A ship sails into port with no one on board. When boarded to be investigated they catch out of the corner of their eye a figure running down below deck. When further investigated they find no one, but as they turn to go back out they realize that this isn't a normal ship, this ship is alive, and they are in the belly of the beast. If not investigated, after the ship takes port, people start disappearing, and no one ever comes out of the ship which starts to get noticed.

48 - The port must brace for a large storm, expect flooding and wind damage

49 - There are rumors that the port workers are unionizing soon, demanding better pay and better working conditions

50 - An unexpected rogue wave comes out of nowhere, killing and damaging anyone unprepared in your port

51 - Humanitarian aid for a neighboring kingdom facing famine arrives, however they lack the proper import paperwork

52 - After a rough week of piracy near your waters, a larger kingdom's navy arrives to help stop the pirates, asking to use your port as a temporary base

53 - A snake-oil salesman carrying cargo with "alternative herbal remedies" arrive in response to a viral outbreak in a neighboring kingdom. Although they have the correct import paperwork and pay the proper taxes, you know that this cargo will likely cause the deaths of uninformed peasants.

54 - A prophet arrives in your port. Although peaceful, he risks radicalizing your portworkers into religious fanatics.

55 - A ship arrives in your port with cargo that is clearly stolen.

56 - A cruise ship arrives in your port carrying tourists. Tourism is unheard of in your city, and the citizenry is angered by obnoxious tourists wandering the city demanding things.

57 - An ordinary ship carrying barley arrives in your port. The captain made an honest mistake, forgetting to obtain the harbormaster's signature on his paperwork before departing from his home city. He begs you to make an exception to avoid the month long journey back.

58 - A ship of scientists arrives, asking to see your port's climate data and tide tables. They cannot pay you, but promise to return with gifts once their study is complete.

59 - An engineer arrives to your port, offering to expand your port and improve its efficiency in exchange for gold.

60 - A travel agent arrives, offering to make your port a destination city in exchange for gold. He also recommends that you build a tourist trap or make up a myth about the origin of your city or the peculiarity of its people.

61 - Fishermen arrive from a nearby village in your port's bay, complaining that sewer water from your port is destroying their ecosystem

62 - Three separate people happen to drown in one day in three separate incidents in your port. You must contain the rumor that your port is unsafe before your reputation is damaged.

63 - A nearby port is closed temporarily. Your port must deal with almost double the traffic until it is repaired.

64 - A polar vortex comes and goes, freezing over your harbor. All traffic is shut down until the ice is broken or melted.

65 - A traveling circus arrives. Residents complain that the carnies are stealing and pickpocketing, although these reports may or may not be exaggerated.

66 - A ship carrying highly explosive, yet legal, materials, arrive in your harbor, destined to a rebellious region in a neighboring kingdom. You must decide to warn the neighboring kingdom, or stop the import all-together.

67 - A ship carrying strong moonshine arrives. Your portworkers are known to be drunks, so you worry that the moonshine could hurt your port's efficiency for several weeks.

68 - Portworkers make a bad habit of skipping work. Today, over half of your workforce is missing, severely impacting your port's efficiency.

69 - A ship arrives carrying prisoners accused of piracy. You are, by international anti-piracy law, required to execute them.

70 - A disgruntled portworker comes to work with a dagger and starts massacring his peers.

71 - Gambling becomes popular at the port. Today, several portworkers gamble away their paychecks.

72 - Retirees move to the city. They make a habit of spending all day out on the water, getting drunk, and regularly getting in the way of ship traffic. However, these old people are wealthy and pay your city a lot in taxes.

73 - Reports of bombings at nearby harbors coincide with a high traffic day at the port. Increasing security measures may greatly harm your port's efficiency.

74 - A portworker falls in the water and is maimed by a shark. People blame the market salesmen who throw rotten food into the harbor for the increase in shark visits.

75 - A cargo container with dead prostitutes arrives at your port. The captain genuinely has no idea how they got there.

76 - Massive amounts of illegal drugs come to your port. You are given gold to look the other way.

77 - A shipment of grey market methamphetamines arrive. You are offered some to help the importer avoid trouble. They may help the productivity of your portworkers.

78 - You catch a portworker "in the act" with another portworker's wife.

79 - You noticed that your port's scale is broken, and you are slightly ripping off all your incoming ships. You can ignore and pocket the extra cash, but if someone notices it they will probably raise hell.

80 - A crane topples over in your port. D4 determines how many casualties, D2 decides if each lives or dies.

81 - Rumors are going around that portworkers are now trying to hurt themselves on the job in an effort to secure workman's comp.

82 - A portworker who has been on workman's comp all year is rumored to be faking his injury.

83- A group of people (some of whom you recognize) are dumping out all the contents of a shipment into the ocean. It blocks ship passageways but smells pretty good, so the residents gather to see the commotion.

84- Two ultra-rich businessmen arrive and are disgusted upon being received poorly by the busy unionmaster.

85 - A spillage of ultra slick syrup happens on one of your piers.

86 - Cargo filled with exotic spices ordered by a nobleman arrives. The ship lacks the proper import papers, but you are offered gold by the nobleman to look the other way.

100 - A ship loaded with gold arrives at your port. The ship has no captain or passengers. If you want to keep the money, it must be laundered in some way.

[mychemicalxmen]

Unfinished Business

hey so I find crt’s recent interactions with the tua fandom to be sus as hell and it got me thinking about the most plausible way I could see him comin back in s3 and the conclusion I came to is a way-shorter and way-simpler version of whatever the hell this is so uhhhh here

2.9k, klave/klave-adjacent

... ... ...

“Is this really a good idea?”

Allison’s words are gentle as she stands in the doorway of Klaus’s room. Well, not his room, per se, but the grey-walled, undecorated space that would’ve been his bedroom in a timeline gone by. The Sparrow Academy doesn’t seem to be a huge fan of homey-ness. They’d ever-so-kindly granted the Umbrellas two nights’ stay in these cold cells while they gathered their bearings and prepared to face the new world they’d fantastically screwed up.

Klaus smiles at her question. “That’s hardly stopped me before, right?”

Allison rolls her eyes and drops her hands onto her hips. “I’m worried about you, okay?”

“Don’t be,” Klaus answers with a swatting gesture. “It’s been easy-peasy since I’ve dropped the pills. Parlor tricks. Did this song and dance tons of times for Madame.”

“Also, we need to unpack your relationship to ‘Madame’ at your earliest convenience.”

Klaus raises an eyebrow mischievously. “What happens in Dallas...!”

Allison sighs. “Okay, well, if things start to get, y’know, mega-spooky panic-time, you’ll just yell, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“Hey.” Allison’s voice is suddenly calmer. Klaus’s gaze snaps up to meet hers. “You’re sure about this?”

Klaus lets himself breathe for a moment. Tension fights to seize his limbs. He’s really about to do it.

His first six months of sobriety were the absolute nightmare that he knew they would be. They were all the sleepless nights, trembling hands, emotional eruptions, and torturous visions that he’d predicted.

But at some point, his powers became less like a stubborn faucet, run by an on/off switch with not much in between. With time (and Ben’s encouragement), he’d come to better understand his link to the other side. He’d learned how to cut and re-engage the connection at will, how to find faces in the crowd, how to call one forth, and how to sleep peacefully.

Most nights.

“I’m sure,” he says solidly.

He checks himself over, tugging his brightly striped shirt into place, tucking in his dog tag, and running a hand through the hair he’d half-considered chopping off the second he made it home. When he looks back up at Allison, he‘s feeling a bit less brave. “Do I look alright?”

Allison nods with a little grin. “You look great.” God, he wishes they’d reconnected far before this Dallas fiasco. She just cares so much. “Good luck,” she says.

“Love you, sis.” He blows her a lazy kiss as she leaves and closes the door behind her.

He paces around the room, steeling himself for the process. Like he said, it’s no big deal. Easy peasy. Even with that hiccup with alcohol, he’s clean enough to pull it off. He shakes out the last of his nerves with a couple tiny hops before settling in the middle of the room.

He stands firmly, feet apart, and drops his head. He squeezes his fists and lets the energy start to crackle between his fingers.

With all the insanity of this timeline, he needs to know what happened in 1968. He needs to see Dave.

It’s tougher to contact someone not already in the room. He focuses everything he has, and the energy pulses faster and stronger. Come on, come on…

“Klaus?”

He looks up with a start.

There he is, standing four feet in front of him. Those torn-up fatigues. Those searching blue eyes. That curly mess of blonde hair he hasn’t seen for three years.

Dave.

Klaus can’t keep the dumb smile off of his face.

“Hey there, soldier,” he practically whispers.

“Hey yourself,” Dave says - happy, though clearly disoriented. “Guess you weren’t making up all that ‘future’ junk after all.”

Klaus’s affirmative laugh is airy. But when his eyes trail down to the cavity in Dave’s chest, his heart aches in regret.

His jaw aches too. What a week it’s been.

“I have... so much to ask you,” Dave goes on. “It’s been a long time.”

Klaus swallows. Here goes. The million dollar question.

“Uh… How long of a time, exactly?”

He unconsciously holds his breath.

Dave glances to the side. “...Right around when JFK was shot. Must’ve been ‘63?”

Klaus exhales and sits on the bed, face blank.

Dave is wincing at his own memories. “God, I was such a dumb kid, I’m so sorry that you—”

Klaus isn’t hearing him. He’s too caught up on that number. 63.

If the Umbrella Academy doesn’t exist, Klaus Hargreeves doesn’t grow up in the same home as Five Hargreeves. He doesn’t get kidnapped by assassins. He doesn’t get his hands on a briefcase. He doesn’t go to Vietnam.

If the Umbrella Academy doesn’t exist, neither does the Dave that fell in love with him.

His Dave is gone. Really gone. 

This Dave was the timid hardware store employee he’d tried to get through to, striving to save his life and instead locking in his fate a few days early. This Dave is still the same person as the other one was. Same upbringing, same interests, same compassion, same smile, same violent death. But...

“—a strange time for anyone. You know how it is.”

Klaus tunes back in to Dave apologizing for his cringey adolescence. “No, no, yeah, I get it, don’t worry about it.”

In the pause that follows, Klaus feels his throat tighten and hot tears threaten to drop down his face.

Within the same pause, Klaus realizes the obvious. Dave is a ghost.

Kiddos and grandmas, or anyone who’s achieved either nothing or everything that their life had to offer them, they get the window to move on right away. One-way ticket to the Great Beyond, or the next life, or whatever the hell it is. Ultimate FastPass, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200. Klaus has learned that spirits don’t tend to stick around on earth unless they have unfinished business. Sometimes they don’t even know what they need to do to start fresh, and that’s always the worst. Those souls become the bitterest, the loudest, the most tortured. Those were the ones who gave him hell in the mausoleum, with question after question that he couldn’t even begin to answer.

Dave seems to have managed okay. Probably spends a lot of time watching over his friends, his sisters, his neighbor’s cat. Klaus wonders what he could possibly have left to do.

“Major case of unfinished business you got there, huh?” Klaus asks. “Been waiting around, what, fifty years?”

Dave squints. “Well, it’s hard to feel it. Time works a little funny over here.”

“Right, of course it does,” Klaus recalls stupidly. He sniffles and swipes a hand under his eye as nonchalantly as he can. “Ah. Any idea what the little brat is waiting for you to do?”

Dave gives a tentative chuckle. “Brat?”

“Oh, Big G, the almighty, you know,” Klaus clarifies. “The bitch on the bike. I met Her once or twice. We’re not too chummy.”

Dave shows startlement, then shakes his head, acknowledging that this information should hardly faze him at this point. “Um. Yeah. Don’t know what She wants yet. Though She’s actually a cowgirl for me.”

“Of course She is.” 

And that’s the idiotic comment that causes Klaus’s voice to crack.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dave asks. He hazards a few steps closer.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

“No... Nothing,” Klaus stammers. He briefly covers his face and lets out a groan. “Ughhh, it’s going to sound crazy.”

“Really think you can beat ‘Time-Traveling Cult Leader with Prophetic Dog Tags and Tidings of Death’?”

“It wasn’t a cult,” Klaus mumbles in futility. He drops his hands and gives it his best shot. “The first time I met you - first time I met Dave - was in a totally different timeline, in 1968. That’s how I knew all that stuff about you. And you died the same way, except I was there the first time. The other time. The same time?”

“You and ...’Other Dave’.... fought together,” Dave offers.

“Yes!” Klaus confirms, relieved that he’s making sense. “Yeah, exactly. Which is why I tried to stop him - you - from going.” He indicates Dave’s abdomen. “And, obviously, I failed. But because of some stuff my family screwed up along the way, you never fought with me, so I remember a lot more than you do, and it’s all just...” He gestures helplessly. “A real kick in the dick.”

Dave tilts his head in a mix of sympathy and confusion. “That... does sound pretty crap.”

Klaus doesn’t expect it when Dave sits next to him on his bed.

“You want to tell me what I missed?”

“Oh, no, no, no, Dave, you don’t want that. That’s a long story.”

Dave shrugs. “I’ve got some time to kill.”

Klaus manages a smile. Talking will keep him from crying.

He tries his best to tell everything chronologically, but almost every step of the beginning requires some Hargreeves Family Lore that he reluctantly recaps as efficiently as possible. Dave is an exceptional listener. Always has been. He lets Klaus ramble on and on and asks little questions now and again to get a clearer picture. Klaus appreciates Dave’s effort to form a coherent narrative out of the scattered snapshots that time has left him with.

Klaus stumbles with pronouns. He makes a point to refer to His Dave with “him” as opposed to “you”, but he can’t help but slip a few times in the middle. Dave seems to understand.

Klaus tells him about the day they met. He waters down the Time Police part of the tale and focuses on what came after. Dropping into the tent at dawn. The casual conversation on the bus. The strange instinct that he got to stick around for a few days.

He tells him about soldiering. He tells Dave how focused and respected he looked on the battlefield. But he also tells him how kind he was to new recruits.

He tells him about their first R&R together in Saigon. He tells him about the vibrant bar and the strangest music and the secluded back hallway.

He tells him about the nights in the jungle they’d stayed up and dreamed up plans for when they’d go home together. He tells him about the day those plans fell apart. When Klaus runs out of story to tell, he just stops. Dave looks at him thoughtfully. Klaus can only imagine what must be running through his head. He knows it’s not judgement, or embarrassment, or anger, or loathing. Dave is too sweet for any of that.

Dave is too good for the rotten fortune that found him, time and time again.

“I’m sorry,” Klaus says.

“For what?”

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t save him,” Klaus answers. He fumbles again. “You. Him? Young Dave?”

“I’m getting a headache keeping track of it myself,” Dave admits.

“You,” Klaus settles on. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Dave looks into him for a breath. Then, he reaches out and touches his arm. Klaus wants to dissolve into dust.

“I think I understand why I loved you,” Dave says.

A bittersweet laugh tumbles ungracefully from Klaus’s mouth. He tries not to draw attention to the new round of tears that spills over with it. “You do?”

“Yeah. I do.” Dave gives him the gentlest smile. “You shouldn’t be sorry. You tried so hard. I could’ve had more courage, fought back, ran away, something, but I just... wasn’t ready.” He glances down. “And I wasn’t going to be.”

Klaus’s hand closes over Dave’s on his arm.

“But I always remembered you,” Dave adds. “I always thought you were brave.”

“Goddamn, I was convinced I’d pushed your Big Awakening back a good two months, at least.”

“Far from,” Dave assures. His eyes crinkle with the flash of a memory. “I’m... not sure if I should tell you this.”

Klaus cocked his head. “Well, shit, Davey, now you have to.”

“I’m assuming Other Me told you something about Bill, right? Met in junior year, moved to Austin after school, always a bit of suspicion there...”

“Yeah?”

Dave’s face reddens slightly. “I mean, it wasn’t anything serious, but there were a few weeks when I was home, before this last tour...”

Klaus’s eyes widen. This was not an event on his timeline. He mocks outrage and pushes Dave’s hand away. “David Joseph Katz—!”

“The point is,” Dave poorly stifles a laugh, “I had hope. That it was gonna be alright, and that after this round, I’d be back in America for good, and I’d find my place.”

Hope.

Klaus supposes hope is nice. It’s just not terribly helpful with the way things panned out. In the world where Dave still didn’t make it home. In the world where he’s stuck here, waiting for a way to move on. In the world where he’s still around to see how little good that hope did him. And frustration starts to churn Klaus’s stomach, even though he knows...

“...This really wasn’t your fault,” Dave says, reading him just as perfectly as he could in ‘68.

Klaus hadn’t noticed how long he’d fallen silent for. “I know,” he mumbles, and logically, he does. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. There had to be a timeline out there where everything ended up alright, where him and Dave lived happily together just like they’d talked about, but he is never going to find it now.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “And I still love him. Christ, he made one of the deadliest shitshows in American history the only place I wanted to be. He made me the happiest that I’ve been in a long, long time. He made me feel so treasured. So... strong.”

When the tears return a third time, he stops trying to hide them. He carelessly wipes the heel of his palm across his cheek.

“I wanted to tell him all that,” he finishes. “He gave me something so special that I don’t think I’ll get again.”

A sob escapes Klaus. Dave patiently waits for him to work it out.

“I know I’m not him,” Dave starts, “But for what it’s worth, I think he’d know you still love him. I think it’d destroy him to be apart from you. But I don’t think he’d want you to destroy yourself.”

Klaus knows the spiel that’s coming, and so badly does he want to dismiss it all as disgusting cliche. But he also knows Dave’s sappy tendencies well enough to know that, in this case, it’s probably accurate. Hell, he’s hearing it from the man himself.

“If you couldn’t get back to him, I think he’d just want to know you were happy,” Dave says. “You know? That you kept moving and kept taking care of yourself. And kept looking for the kind of love you deserve.”

Dave shifts to face him more directly. His eyes are bright with intention. “You have so much life left in you. You deserve a new chapter.”

Klaus feels beaten and weary all over. His mind is finally slowing down to the present.

When Dave subtly opens up his arms, he eagerly takes the offer to wrap him in an embrace.

This is the last he’ll see of him. He can feel it. He tucks his chin over Dave’s shoulder and clings onto the fabric of his vest, eyes shut, trying to commit every sensation to memory.

Dave returns, lightly weaving his hand into Klaus’s hair. Klaus recalls with a weak grin that he knew Dave would be fond of the new length.

It’s safe and sacred and almost everything that he’d planned for on that day he’d desperately wandered the mansion halls, calling out for any help he could get, twisting a bundle of rope in his quaking hands.

He hears a whisper of a wind chime.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Dave mutters.

The blue glow pierces through Klaus’s eyelids. He pulls back to look at Dave.

He’s crumbling apart, piece by piece, and drifting away. Bright light speckles the entire room.

“Klaus?” Dave asks. His voice is soft but threaded with slight fear. “Is this...?”

“Yeah, it is,” he answers. He tightens his grip on Dave’s arms. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me say goodbye.”

A beat passes. Then, understanding washes over Dave’s face. He pulls Klaus close once again, stroking his hair.

He presses a kiss onto Klaus’s forehead.

Klaus doesn’t watch him go. He only opens his eyes when his arms are at last empty.

Specks of glittering blue light still float through the air. Nothing else remains but the wrinkle on the bedspread where he was sitting. Klaus’s face still feels warm where his lips were placed just moments ago.

Klaus buries his head in his hands. “Allison,” He calls out. The sound is pathetic. He clears his throat and tries again. “Allie?”

He hears her heeled boots click down the hall. He can’t bring himself to look up when she opens the door. “You okay?”

“It’s over,” he summarizes.

“What do you need?”

A joint. A fist full of pills. Five shots of tequila. A good sock in the head so he can go back to that pre-Technicolor hellscape and tell that bitch on the bike what he really thinks of Her.

“Can you just sit with me for a minute, please?”

Allison closes the door and obliges.

They talk, slowly and softly, about absolutely nothing at all, while Allison smooths her hand against Klaus’s back. They stare at the cold tile floors together for a long time. Klaus asks if it would kill the Sparrows to hire an interior decorator.

[sixteencrows]

Duct Tape and a Wish

There are a lot of benefits to using power armor in a fight, but you don’t really need me to tell you that. Take one look at any raider or gunner who’s managed to get one up and running and you know you’re going to be in for a bad time. Even the Brotherhood, with all their pomp and self righteousness, make a pretty intimidating image charging into battle. I guess you could say that they aren’t that good for stealth but I’ve certainly never had any trouble sneaking around while Wilhelm drew fire with his creaking tin can.

The only fault I can really, honestly give them is that they’re pretty slow.

Especially when they have a dead fusion core.

Like right now.

“You alright back there, Tin Man?” I called back to Wilhelm, waiting for him at the top of a small hill that, to him, probably felt like a mountain. His fusioncore gave out half a mile back, not long after we had a run in with some Super Mutants. We were so close to one of his settlements where we could ditch the hunk of metal in safety but with how hard he was breathing even that seemed impossible.

He finally trudged up next to me, the frame of the armor kept him pretty upright but I could still sense the way he slumped inside while he tried to regain some strength. Eventually he responded, glancing down at the Pip-Boy on his arm that he could barely lift. “Not much … farther.” A rattling cough seemed to echo around his helmet. “I can do it.”

“You sure?” I mean what other options are there? We can’t just leave the thing out in the open. Who knows who would find it, and with how powerful it was we couldn’t exactly risk some guy with a spare fusion core making off with it.

Wilhelm took some slow, shaking breaths before responding, “Yeah, let’s go,” and continued on his route. I followed along behind him, rifle in hand, his own strapped to my back (not that the absence of fifteen pounds would really make that much of a difference to him), keeping an eye out for whatever the Commonwealth decided to spring on us next.

It took another forty-five minutes or so for us to arrive at the Abernathy Farm and when we did I volunteered to do most of the talking for him. The guy we spoke to, I think his name was Blake, directed us to a shed where we could store the suit temporarily and handed us some cold-ish purified water before getting back to his family. By this point I was getting a bit antsy to get Wilhelm out of that thing, his heavy breathing never really let up and his coughing had become more persistent even if he tried to hide it around the settlers.

“Alright, man, get outta there before we have to crack you open like an egg,” I said, jokingly rapping my knuckles on the back panel of his armor. Before I had the chance to step back the panel opened with a loud hiss. Wilhelm more fell than stepped out of the back, stumbling on unsteady feet and nearly crushing me to the ground when I tried to catch him.

He’s a big guy, I know this but there are still times when it catches me off guard. He’s already a good head taller than me and when I tried to wrap my arms around his chest from the back it was like hugging a barrel. I knew it wasn’t feasible to help him to his feet so instead I awkwardly hauled him, or at least controlled his falling, to sit with his back to the wall of the shed. Even out of his armor and in the (slightly) fresh air his breathing sounded terrible and I noticed immediately that he is drenched in sweat. His hands were shaking as he tried to remove his glasses, fumbling with them as he leaned his head back.

Something’s wrong.

I’ve been around people when they are out of breath. Heck, most of the commonwealth, including myself, smoke and that definitely doesn’t help when you have to book it away from an angry Deathclaw. This sounds different though.

“Hey uh,” I crouch down in front of him, giving him maybe a foot or so of breathing space, “You holding up okay?” No MacCready, obviously not. With every cough I half expect him to spit out a lung, and his breathing sounds more like a wheeze than anything else. I see the way he’s trying to keep his knees up (well one knee anyway, the other never really seems to bend properly) to support his posture so I scoot forward a little to try and hold them in place. Eventually he’s able to look at me, his eyes have always looked pale and bloodshot but they somehow look worse in this moment. More watery and hazy.

He pats a shaky hand to his chest. “My lungs,” he mumbles hoarsley before reworking his words to something more efficient, “Asthma.”

Okay, asthma, that makes sense, I can work with that. Yeah, totally.

Crap what am I saying, I don’t know anything about asthma. Sure I know the basic gist of it but what am I supposed to do? Are his lungs collapsing? Does he need to see a doctor? I’ve heard that people used to treat it with something that kind of looked like Jet but I don’t see how that would help in this situation.

He must have noticed my moment of panic because I felt him patting my hand on his knee. I look at him again, still holding his chest, and I can hear him trying to steady his breathing. It starts off as the same shallow wheezes but gradually, almost imperceptibly, they try to get a bit longer. Not knowing what else to do I breathe with him, in through the nose, as deep as you can, then back out again. It feels a little bit like the breathing exercises people do to calm their nerves, the kind you do to steady your rifle before taking a long distance shot.

I don’t know how long we sat there for. We were still out of sight of the Abernathys so none of them seemed to notice what was happening. At some point it hard started to get dark, and I reached over to turn on the light on Wilhelm’s Pip-Boy. His breathing was more or less settled though it still seemed to rattle around his lungs on every inhale. Had it always been like that?

His eyes were closed as his head rested against the metal wall behind him. I took this moment of quiet lucidity to just watch him… which sounds creepy but I promise it’s not.

We’ve been travelling together for a couple months now, he’s even set up a bed for me in The Castle (which is a name far grander than three and a half walls really deserved). I kind of treat it like a little vacation whenever he drops me off there, and while Garvey never really seems to enjoy my presence he does at least tolerate me, and I have come to enjoy getting under his skin a little whenever the opportunity presents itself. Still, we don’t have a ton of downtime together when we’re not travelling or sleeping.

His colour looks a lot better. Even in the yellow light of his Pip-Boy his face looks a lot less red than it did and his hand, still resting on my own, feels less clammy than when he’d first staggered out of the power armor. With his glasses still discarded next to him I can see some scarring around his face. I’ve always known that he had a couple scuffs and dings but behind the wire frames and all the hair I never really noticed how bad it really was. I can count maybe three separate scars, all on his left side. One near the eyebrow, another below his eye, and a third, less linear one on his temple mostly covered by black hair and beard.

God I wish I could grow a beard like that. Might not let it get as bushy but I would kill to be able to grow anything on my cheeks that wasn’t patchy peach fuzz.

My mouth opens before I can think, a common problem for me.

“So when you left the army, did you swear off barber shops too?”

He chuckles, at least. It’s the first noise I’ve heard him voluntarily make in what feels like hours. There’s silence for a moment, though this time it’s a more familiar kind. “We had to be clean shaven when I served, even our hair was regulated,” he said, voice still hoarse. “I remember shaving twice a day sometimes, it would grow so quickly that I would have stubble before dinner. Got in trouble for it a few times too.” He chuckled again, head lolling forward like a man who just woke up. “Swear I spent so much time shaving that the last thing I wanted to do after leaving was so much as look at a razor - not that Nora seemed to mind.”

“Hm, can’t relate,” I said, self deprecatingly rubbing my goatee. This seemed to draw another chuckle from him that ended in a small cough. I prickled at the sound but Wilhelm settled just as quickly as it had come on.

“I’m uh, sorry if I worried you with all that,” he looks down to the ground, patting a hand in the dirt until he found his glasses again. Instead of putting them on right away he fiddled with the arms as though checking to make sure they weren’t damaged.

“I mean I doubt you did all that on purpose,” I joked, leaning back on my hands after finally releasing the grip I’d had on his leg.

He was silent for a moment again.

“Have you always had asthma?” I asked, maybe foolishly but what else is new. “I always heard that the Pre-War military was pretty stingy when it came to who joined. Even heard a few stories of guys who would cut off a toe to get out of deployment.”

“Well that is even older than I am,” he responded, thankfully lighthearted. “Military didn’t really care how many toes you had when I joined, you’d have to get more creative than that.” His tone seemed to shift a little. “Still, they wouldn’t have let me join if I had asthma, it developed later. Just another souvenir, I guess.”

Well that casual chat didn’t last long, don’t know what I expected really. “Along with those scars I’m betting?” I tapped a finger against the side of my face. “Shrapnel?”

“You got it,” he rubbed his beard like a cartoon of an old man waxing nostalgic. “Also got a bad knee, some back problems, astigmatism... Had some problems with my blood pressure for a while too. Got some medals out of the deal at least.”

I wanted to give a nervous laugh but it never really came. “Christ.”

“Sorry,” he sobered, returning his glasses to his nose, “Guess that was a lot to drop on you all at once.”

“Nah, it’s uh. It’s all good.” I gave him a friendly pat on the (good) knee while I got ready to stand. “Just didn’t realize you were held together by duct tape and a wish, is all.” He laughed.

Wilhelm made an effort to stand up, but even with the help of the wall he seemed unsteady so I reached down to give him a hand. The sounds of his joints cracking and popping as he got to his feet echoed in my head but I tried to ignore them. “God I’m tired, hope the Abernathys won’t mind if we crash here for the night.”

“They better fricking not,” I replied, situating myself under his arm as we walked back to the farmhouse. “Otherwise we can take those turrets of yours somewhere else.”