#don’t physically have my diploma yet

[ego-sum-arbor]

I am now officially an archaeologist!

[gluion]

safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ leehan

leehan x reader, slight sungho x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with leehan.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, gender-neutral reader, reader is shorter than leehan and sungho, lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, sungho is your ex, myungjae and taesan appearance :’), elements of the last of us (don’t support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u’re remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo’s the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ i really love this piece with everything in me so i thought i'd release it to bonedoblr as well!! you can check out the jacob & taerae versions as well. if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last? 

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans—taking them away from the lives they’ve lived—everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of sungho’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember sungho’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, sungho was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and sungho found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of sungho was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with sungho. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant sungho would be with you.

still, time continues to move. sungho knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and sungho met jaehyun, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, sungho was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others; save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge for supplies if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to jaehyun, you and sungho got to learn about how to find them in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. sungho decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. jaehyun became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend to his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and jaehyun reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing sungho fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, sungho glanced at jaehyun, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moved, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but jaehyun kept his arms around you, holding you back. from letting the infected reach you. from letting sungho come back to you.

the wails that left you were enough to attract the infected. if only they were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to sungho, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, jaehyun dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of sungho, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, jaehyun saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to jaehyun but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named leehan.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that sungho left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, sungho’s last words to you play on repeat. the ones he failed to say. the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.

“myungjae, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since sungho’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “leehan! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, jaehyun caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way sungho did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still. lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of leehan’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails. 

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

leehan still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and leehan got used to the new dynamic; while he went hunting and you were tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night comes, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to leehan who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—jaehyun, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the wood that continued to burn. “we met jaehyun a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, leehan never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own. 

“i resented jaehyun after what happened.” you moved your gaze to leehan whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending sungho’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows together—for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw jaehyun,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told leehan that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you kept an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of jaehyun; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of sungho you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, leehan listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and leehan found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he’s only a year younger than sungho, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be���what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, leehan promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and leehan who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “i was there for my upperclassmen’s graduation.” it hit you like sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i knew people in the music program and we were going to celebrate after. until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my sungho.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of leehan’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he talked about you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where sungho and jaehyun now stay. your mouth turned dry as leehan’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber.

the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing sungho’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of sungho being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save sungho that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress. the voice was caught in your throat.

how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects?

how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of jaehyun that once caressed your face. the lips of sungho that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were leehan’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

leehan took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps.

when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is. 

half a year went by. leehan still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; leehan goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two. stolen glances. quiet giggles. linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and leehan decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm. 

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted leehan’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun. 

leehan’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home. indulge in my hobbies. live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm. the movement of his chest against your back. the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since sungho’s death, you considered it. 

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes which glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours. 

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival.

you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named taesan, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and leehan grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of sungho still lives?

but one glance at leehan was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” taesan asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met leehan’s for a split second—confusion. dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. leehan was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and taesan to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with leehan.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it can’t compare to how leehan shines.

you needed to get some sleep, is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward as you refused to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left leehan, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by and another goodbye had to be done. taesan stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were leehan’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told taesan before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot. 

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and leehan found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached leehan’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how leehan’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a pear and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of green and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house. 

you then stood in front of your old house with leehan by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two. 

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and sungho. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw leehan crouched in front of the console table with eyes trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside sungho with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside leehan. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind. 

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at leehan and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost sungho, and 11 months since jaehyun told you his last words.

but it was also 13 months spent with leehan, choosing to survive with him. 

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and sungho; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from. 

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in leehan’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and leehan stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how leehan came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “leehan, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw leehan holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “leehan!” he looked back at you and you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing leehan’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up, making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how leehan’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears. 

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“leehan!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as leehan was with you. 

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and leehan fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but leehan came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, front-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how leehan holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth. tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

tag list: @onedoornet @kflixnet @loserlvrss @lionhanie @nicholasluvbot

@blumisiu @0310s @icyminghao @shegotthewoobies

[disabledalliums]

I don’t think people realise how much ableism is given to them throughout their whole lives that they just see it as normal. There was this one kid in my primary school who i was friends with and had some kind of joint issue, and she was constantly babied because of it. She didn’t know why and was not just confused, but also upset because she was told by adults, actual adults who have a diploma for teaching that she wasn’t “smart enough” because she just happened to have a physical disability. Which was obviously false, she was incredibly smart and extremely creative.

And people have got to realise this happens so much, which is horrible. And it brings up something people need to think about, why do you think that disabled people who you deem “not smart enough” to be babied? Why do you think that the adult whose disability makes them “more dumb” makes them less of an adult? Think about it and unlearn that knee jerk reaction of “disability = babies”

Like i have met disabled people who are performing at a “lower school level” and yet they still deserve to be treated their age. Its the small things like not speaking in a higher pitch and treating disabled adults as adults! Just because a disabled adult is unable to do basic math doesn’t mean that they are any less!

[milfsloverblog]

Life Eternal (part 1)

Can you hear me say your name forever?

Larissa Weems x former student fem!reader

A/N: Sapphic Yearning at its finest. Don’t fall for your teachers, kids, it will ruin ya! Might be inspired by real events…Title from one of my favourite Ghost song, which you should really listen to if you want to get the full experience. Thinking of turning this into a multiple chapter fic, let me know! <3

ps: really want to insist on the fact that Larissa and reader’s relationship was platonic. Larissa was nothing more than a mentor to reader.

You had been staring at the letter on your lap for the past twenty minutes. Reading it again and again, as if you had not read it a hundred times since receiving it nearly two weeks ago.

“Dear Miss…” You sighed loudly and pushed the letter away, your eyes falling on the signature at the bottom of the page “Sincerely yours, Larissa Weems.”

You emptied the glass of wine you’d poured yourself hoping to find some courage in it. Of course, you were expecting the invite to arrive at some point, it always arrived around the end of May. At least it had for the past five years.

Class reunions. You hated the mere thought of it. Surely the ones that used to be popular loved those reunions, but you…No, you couldn’t bare the thought of seeing her, not after leaving the way you had.

Would she recognise you, you wondered as you threw your jacket on and took a last look in the mirror. You hadn’t changed much in five years and it seemed like she hadn’t forgotten about you. And you definitely hadn’t forgotten about her.

You didn’t even know what made you change your mind after five years of not attending. Perhaps it was the fact that the letter had been handwritten this time instead of typed, or maybe you had been hypnotised by the scent of her perfume that lingered in your room after you’d opened the envelope.

Now that you thought about it, moving out of Jericho had been both a blessing and a curse. You hadn’t moved very far, only a twenty minutes ride, but it was enough to ensure you wouldn’t accidentally stumble on her while doing your grocery shopping.

It was silly, that need you’d felt to run away from Larissa. You knew it was silly and yet you couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t have kept acting like she meant nothing more to you than a mentor.

———

“Mom, please…” You had pleaded with your mother, refusing to get out of bed. “I’m telling you I can’t go. I feel too sick.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. You did feel sick, but not physically. Your illness was way more insidious than a simple stomachache or a common cold.

“Principal Weems will be so disappointed not to see you.” Your mother had said, standing with her hands on her hips. “I’m sure the poor woman has been impatiently waiting to see you graduate. And now you will let a little sickness take that away from her?”

She always found a way to rub salt into your wounds, even unknowingly. She had no idea. She had no idea that Larissa was the reason why you were refusing to get out of bed that morning.

“Please.” You had said again “Just go and get my diploma. Tell her I will visit whenever I can.”

Now that was a lie. You knew you would never visit Larissa again. You’d made up your mind a while ago already.

Your mother had eventually given up and attended your graduation ceremony alone. Principal Weems had been nothing but professional, your mom had told you, although she’d noticed that Larissa’s smile had seemed a bit forced when she had explained that you were sick and couldn’t be there to receive your diploma.

—————————

You were snapped out of your memory by a car loudly honking behind you, signaling that the light had been green for a few seconds now. How long had you been zoning out for? You hadn’t been to Nevermore in five years and yet it seemed like your brain still remembered the road as if you had left yesterday.

The car park was already nearly full when you arrived and there was no doubt you would be one of the last invitees to show up.

A shiver ran down your spine when you walked through the gate under the Nevermore sign and entered the yard. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d just walked into the lion’s den, that the trap was closing in on you.

Looking around at the people you recognised a few familiar faces, werewolves, sirens, and gorgons catching up together instead of segregating themselves like they used to.

Someone calling your name made you turn around, your eyes falling on a face you’d recognise anywhere.

“Enid!” Your lips immediately spread into a smile. She hadn’t changed at all, still that bubbly young woman dressed all in pink.

She pulled you in a tight hug and you grimaced a little, locking eyes with Wednesday who gave you a knowing look.

“So, you two…” You asked when Enid eventually let you go.

“Yes!” Enid answered excitedly as she wrapped her arm around Wednesday’s waist, a small blush creeping on the Addams’ cheeks.

And it made sense, you thought, that the gloomy girl would fall for the bubbly one. Isn’t that what had happened to you too, after all?

Enid excused herself, saying she was going to get some drinks for the three of you. A silence fell between Wednesday and you but it didn’t feel uncomfortable.

“I knew you would come someday. Enid kept saying we would never see you at a class reunion, but I knew you’d eventually come.” The Addams girl said. “We can’t run from our feelings forever, can we?”

Wednesday smirked devilishly when you looked at her with wide eyes. If she knew, if she had been able to realise, who else had?

Enid reappeared before you could say anything, handing you a cup of what looked like white wine.

“The handwritten invitation was a nice touch.” You said after taking a sip and letting out a small chuckle. “I do wonder where she found the time to handwrite so many invitations though.”

Enid frowned and looked at her girlfriend before looking back at you.

“You received a handwritten invitation?” She asked. “Because we only got the good old computer typed one…Why would she send you a hand-“ Wednesday gently put her hand on the blonde’s mouth and whispered something in her ear, which had Enid nodding and keeping quiet.

The crowd suddenly fell silent, and all eyes turned towards the entrance door from which Principal Weems had just walked out to step onto the podium.

She didn’t need a podium, she was already towering over everyone there but that’s simply how Larissa was. She wasn’t ashamed of who she was or how she looked, something she had desperately tried to teach you when the two of you were close.

“All your life there will be people trying to push you down.” You remembered her telling you, her fingers holding onto your chin to make sure you were looking at her. “And yes, it will hurt. You may cry if you need to, but you can never give up. And don’t you ever be ashamed of who you are. You are incredible, my darling, don’t you forget that.”

Larissa’s voice resonated through the yard, commanding everyone’s attention. With unwavering poise, she delivered her speech, thanking everyone for coming that day. Every eye in the crowd was fixated on her, hanging onto her words.

The principal’s smile widened a little when she noticed Enid and Wednesday, only to falter for a second when her blue eyes eventually locked with yours.

It felt like time had stopped. Like it was just the two of you and the others had ceased existing. It always felt that way with her. She would look into your eyes and make you feel like you were the most important person in the room.

There was a short pause in Larissa’s speech, so short in fact that you weren’t sure anyone else had even noticed. It only took a split second for the woman to pull herself back together and finish her speech, her eyes falling on you a few more times.

Larissa ended her speech by telling everyone to help themselves with the food and drinks and reminding them that Nevermore would always welcome them if needed.

You were out of the yard as soon as Larissa stepped down from the podium. You needed to get out of there before she decided to come and find you, because you knew she would.

Coming here today hadn’t been a good idea. You should have stayed at home and buried that damn invitation in the drawer of your desk as you had done with the past four ones.

You heard the familiar sound of heels approaching the alcove where you were hiding and barely looked up when the sound stopped right next to you.

“I knew I would find you here.” Larissa spoke softly.

Of course she did. You always used to hide here whenever you needed to be away from everything.

“Your mother said you would visit whenever you’d feel better…I’m glad you finally do” The tall woman added.

It didn’t sound like she was reproaching you, and when you looked up at her face and your eyes met her gentle ones, you knew she wasn’t. Larissa was simply stating a fact. You were here, and she was glad that you were.

She hadn’t changed at all, you thought as you quietly observed her face. You noticed that the lines at the corner of her eyes and around her lips had deepened. She was as beautiful as ever.

“It’s very good to see you, Principal Weems. Thank you for the invitation.” You wished you had the courage to use her name, to call her Larissa like she had allowed you to do when in private. But time had passed and you weren’t sure if you were still allowed to.

“Of course, I’m glad you joined us today. Will you follow me to my office? There’s something I’d like to show you.” The older woman said, not waiting for your answer before spinning around on her heels and walking away.

Stepping into the office felt stranger than you thought it would. You were almost immediately hit with a wave of memories. Sitting down on the sofa by the fireplace, reading a book while Larissa furiously typed some emails on her keyboard. Spending whole evenings debating on the most absurd subject either of you could think of.

You’d fallen asleep there one time when Larissa hadn’t noticed how late it was. You’d woken up the next day still on the sofa but with a blanket covering you and a pillow comfortably tucked under your head. God, you loved her.

“There it is!” Larissa said, pulling you out of your reverie.

She handed you a small rectangular red box tied with a ribbon. You read the tag that was hanging to the bow and felt your stomach drop. Congratulations, darling! You make me so proud. She had bought you a graduation gift and you hadn’t shown up. You didn’t deserve her.

“I kept it all those years. I was hoping that you would visit during the summer after your graduation.” Larissa explained “And when you didn’t…I suppose I kept hoping that you would someday.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if it had been as hard for her as it had been for you. Had she missed you like you had missed her?

You pulled on the ribbon and watched as the bow fell apart, your hands slightly shaking when you lifted the lid to reveal a pair of black leather gloves.

“You always said you loved mine, remember? The beige ones?” Larissa asked.

If you remembered? You couldn’t count how many times you’d watched Larissa put her gloves on, admiring the way her fingers flexed in the leather. You had dreamt of helping her take them off only to kiss her knuckles.

“Do you like them?” The woman whispered, unsure what your silence meant.

“I love them.” You answered almost immediately. I love you, you thought. “Thank you so much, Miss Weems, this means more than you could ever imagine.”

Larissa’s smile widened and her body slightly moved forward, panic rising in your chest when her arms moved from her sides and you realised she was about to embrace you.

Don’t, please don’t. Because if you do I will fall right back in love with you, and I’m not sure I will ever be able to let go again.

But you didn’t say anything. You let her wrap her arms around you and pull you close against her. And it felt so right. You hadn’t felt this alive in years, yet it killed you to know that this meant nothing more to her than a hug between two old friends.

“I’m sorry I didn’t visit you sooner.” You whispered as you embraced her. She still felt the same in your arms. She still smelled the same. She was still her.

“I know.” Larissa whispered back, her body gently swaying from side to side as she held you close.

You felt like you were eighteen again, sobbing in her arms after a particularly rough day. She had never let you down, not once had she refused to help you and you had run away without an explanation.

“Larissa…” You whispered, wanting to explain yourself furthermore, needing to tell her how stupid you had been.

“I know.” She repeated and your ear that was pressed against her chest caught her heart beating faster.

You weren’t sure what she knew exactly, but it didn’t matter. Not now. Not while she was holding you close and shielding you from the world. There would be plenty of time for explanations. But for now, it was just you and her, tightly embracing each other.

[oh-saints]

erling again please!! can you do one where he attends your graduation?

OH OH THIS IS FRESH

absent

erling says he can't make it to your graduation, though...

erling haaland x you

word count: 0.7k

note: taking a little break from dad!rúben tirade bcs this prompt is too fun to be passed up. but as usual, i happen to write at dawn so this is not proof-read yet.

“i don’t think i can make it, babe,”

was what erling said the last time you and him shared a video call. he cited he had an away game and it was too far away for him to catch a flight to norway in time for your graduation. he truly sounded sad and disappointed over the phone, and you get it because it’s his job. you signed up for this the moment you kissed him back 2 years ago under the mistletoe in his house.

so you try to let his absence rain your parade. because that day is for you, after 3 years full of tears and blood. no matter how much you want to share it with erling because he was the one who persuaded you to stay in collage when things went roughly south.

you still involve erling in every step of the preparations, though. you ask for his advice regarding your valedictorian speech, what to fix and which part to emphasis. you send him pictures of your dress nominees. you do a poll for your make up look. and he reply at each and every one of your texts, no matter how busy he is, except the times when he had to play for a match.

on the day, you head straight to where you and your peer group are going to take a graduation picture together. erling had suggested it actually because he thought you should at least have a fun photo session with the ones who are truly there for you, physically and mentally, especially when you miss him a lot due to the long distance relationship.

you sport dozens of ridiculous shots that’s inspired by your 4-year journey together, on top of having cliché poses. you can’t thank erling enough for this idea because it throws you to a mini flashback where everything looks okay the first time you and your peer group sets your feet here. at the end of the session, you all have to hold back some tears because you don’t want to ruin your make up.

a deliveryman should be thanked for that because the moment he delivers you a bouquet of flowers from erling is the moment that makes you and your peer group break down to fits of laughter.

your peer group, friends, and colleagues alike all claps when you take the stage for your valedictorian speech and shouts when you close the speech with a bang. your family cheers for you when you take your diploma, and for a minute, you forget that erling is the only thing missing from this spectacular day.

only when your phone dings once, followed by thousand more notifications, do you realise you’re missing him for nothing.

erling posts a video on his story of you getting your diploma, with the caption of you go my girl <3 and the internet had a fucking meltdown. you, too, to be honest because you’re content with the hushed status of your relationship with erling. despite him not showing your face in the video, many has recognised you, probably mouth to mouth from people who actually go to your university hall.

but for once, you don’t care at all because he’s here. erling’s here, and it completes your day by a long mile. doesn’t matter now how he gets here or if he lies on purpose about him not being able to come down for your graduation.

as soon as they dismiss the biggest event of your life by far, you don’t think twice to call erling to ask where he is so you can tackle him down in a hug. and you did exactly that, when you find him standing tall like a giant he is underneath a tree nearby, looking dashing in a suit coloured to matchingly contrast your dress. fuck other people who try to take a picture of you two, or of erling in general because who the hell doesn’t know erling haaland?

but the good side of having a giant boyfriend is that he’s always there and ready to catch you.

“you’re here!”

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world, schnuppa.”

[shadowbriar]

Remus Lupin - About Time

Pairing : (F/M) || Remus Lupin x Reader Word Count : 1.8k Warning : I don’t think there’s any. Notes : I plan to make this a series with this as its prologue. What do you guys think?

“Quiet!” She hushed to the four boys trailing her from behind, trying her best to sneak out of the castle stealthily. The toenail moon was shining above, giving the five little troublemakers just enough lighting to not trip on their steps. Reaching to their destination, she took out her wand and pointed to the violent tree “Immobulus!”

Hurriedly entering the small passage under the old tree, the group let out their heave of relief. Sirius was the first to crack a laugh, smacking James’ head in the process from the rush of adrenaline. Peter followed suit, feeling like he’s on top of the world as he shed a tear from the laughter. The bottle of booze they shared earlier is starting to cloud their minds.

“One last mischief before we’re officially out of this school.” James says excitedly “Too bad we can’t show this off to everyone. It would’ve been the grandest senior prank ever!”

“Indeed.” Sirius frowns, tapping on his chin “I was thinking, should our plan work, which I’m confident it will, should we skip time to our graduation and pop up when Dumbledore calls our names? It would be funny, wouldn’t it? To get your diplomas in pyjamas.”

Peter chimes, “And with bottles of booze on our hands! Imagine the look on McGonagall’s face!”

The group of friends burst into laughter. All four except one who still has a disapproving look on his face. Noticing his discomfort, she clears her throat to calm the matter, “That sounds brilliant guys, but remember, we’re here for Moony.”

“Right.” James nods, trying to compose himself to ease Remus’ stiff shoulders “We’re here for Moony.”

James, Sirius, and Peter then proceed to walk deeper into the passageway, entering the Shrieking Shack where they’ve set up the equipment and other necessities for tonight’s ritual. The months-long preparation is finally coming to its grand finale, making each of their systems pumped in excitement and adrenaline. What they’re doing might be their most illegal activities yet, much more dangerous than their animagus transformation, but given the upcoming situation, they have agreed to try and go down the path.

She was about to follow the others before Remus caught her arm, “Wait.”

“Yes, Rem?” She asks, looking at his worried eyes “Everything alright?”

“I-” Remus sighs, positioning himself so he could see her better “I still don’t think that this is the right thing to do. And before you get mad at me, I understand that it’s taken months for you to research and find the needed elements, and I’m eternally grateful that you’re doing this to help with my.. Condition. But I just- I would never be able to forgive myself if something bad happens to you.”

She smiles softly, trying to ease his worry by taking his scarred hands, “We’ve been through this a thousand times, Remus. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

“Yes, but what if it won’t? What if we get stuck on some wrong time frame? What if we can’t return? We don’t even know what will happen to us when we go through that portal.”

She sighs. She understands the trouble Remus is trying to express, but time is running out. While in Hogwarts, the Marauders could help him with each of his transitions but now that they’re graduating, they have to find another way that could ease his monthly pain, especially since they wouldn’t be able to be there physically for him. They’ve made a pact to always spend the full moon together but graduating means that they will return to their homes and complications will certainly occur. It wouldn’t be as easy for them to sneak out and transfigure themselves to accompany Remus on each full moon.

So months prior to their graduation, she spent more time researching for a possible solution than to prepare her NEWT exams. She knew that she wouldn’t break a sweat to pass the classes, so why not avert her time to do something more useful? And so after countless nights of borrowing James’ invincibility cloak and roam through the restricted sections, she’s found the most feasible answer to their trouble.

Time travel.

If Remus could skip time where the full moon had occurred, he wouldn’t have to transform. At least, that’s the simplest logical reasoning she gave to the others. There were several ways they could achieve time travelling, one of her books mentioned, however with the limited time and access they have, finding a time turner proved to be more fruitless than to create a time portal so the group collectively chose the latter option.

And when we say collectively, Remus was certainly on the opposite party.

But one against four was never a fair fight. The others agree to proceed with the plan and there’s nothing Remus could do but to supervise and make sure that his friends don’t make a fool of themselves or get hurt in the process. Especially when she’s the one leading the operation.

Problem is, there was little to no information about time travelling to the future. All of the recorded time travelling experiences were done to revisit the past, hence the danger and risk for things to go southway is greater than anything they’ve ever done before, but she was determined and there’s never a way for Remus to change her mind once she made it.

“Hey,” She says softly, placing a hand to his cheek for reassurance “We’ll be fine, I promise. We’ve done the research for months and you’ve helped crafting it yourself. Have a little faith in us, Rem. Have a little faith in you.”

Remus smiled weakly, repeating his words, “I can never forgive myself if something bad happens to you.”

“Nothing bad will happen to me or to any of us.”

“I know, but I just-”

“Remus,” She calls his name with a firm tone, perhaps reaching the end of her patience “We’re doing this. Don’t you worry about anything, alright? I promise everything will go as planned. In two hours we’ll be back to the Common Room, laughing over Sirius' failed attempt to woo that Ravenclaw girl earlier tonight.”

Remus smiles faintly.

“That’s the smile I so missed about.” She said softly, teasing the boy who’s now having a hint of blush “We’ll be fine, Remus, I promise.”

She was about to turn her heels when Remus held her hand once more.

She turns to see him, her brows furrowed in confusion, “What is it?”

Remus was visibly gulping. He looks more nervous than before, as if another matter has reoccupied his mind with greater anxiety. He stares at her confused eyes, hoping that his brown eyes could tell her things he couldn’t put words to, but the her blinking proves that she’s still as lost as she’s always been. Forever stuck in the oblivion pit from Remus’ feelings.

“Can I talk to you later?” He says with a voice barely above a whisper, clearly embarrassed “I have something I wanted to tell you privately.”

A small victorious smile tugged on the corner of her lips. Unbeknownst to Remus, she knew all along about his not so subtle admiration and affection towards her. It’s hard to keep a blind eye when she’s spent most of her time with him, after all. Not to mention the constant teasing and taunts done by the other Marauders, it was easy for her to decipher Remus’ true intentions. At last after all these years, Remus had finally gathered enough courage to tell it to her himself.

“Of course, Rem.” She smiles warmly, giving a reassuring squeeze to his forearm “We’ll have a talk later.”

—-

She’s set the four dragon stones, two of them afloat and making an enigmatic gate-like shape. Around them were candles, lit with flames dancing in accordance to her spells. Being the mastermind of the plan, she’s to do the majority of tonight’s ritual. There’s surely no problem in that, seeing how she’s the brightest with spells among the five of them. Yet the bad feeling in Remus’ stomach is still knotted tight, making his palms turn sweaty no matter how many times he tries to rub it into his pants.

“Alright, it’s settled.” She says, standing in front of the portal “A couple last tiny steps and we’re good to go.”

“Sound.” Sirius says, admiring her work with visible thrill “I’ll go first.”

“No you’re not, I am!” James argues, pushing Sirius away.

“Careful guys.” Remus warns, not wanting incidents to happen “We’re not toying around here.”

But the warning wasn’t welcomed by either of the two troublemakers. Both James and Sirius were too invested in their play fight. Being the first to travel to the future certainly would feed both of their huge egos well.

What started off as light pushes now turns into real arm wrestling. Perhaps it’s the alcohol that still lingers within their blood that made them turn into such rascals. She was beginning to yell at them, asking them to stop because it was certainly dangerous to be as careless, but just like Remus’ warns, her words were welcomed to one ear and left the other with no remarks.

Before Remus and Peter could break the two, James and Sirius’ punches and kicks accidently pushed her, making her trip through the portal.

The fight broke in an instant, horror filling their eyes as the girl is now gone from sight. The preparation wasn’t complete, as she said earlier, and they’re unsure of the outcome of their reckless and raucous action. She’s gone. No telling of where she went or how long she would leave.

“Where did she go?” Sirius asks quietly, afraid to light the burning anger on his friend’s mind.

Remus didn’t say a word. His eyes glued to the spot where he last saw her. It all happened in a blink of an eye, too fast for his tired mind to comprehend. One second she was there, the next she was gone. It was as if she wasn’t there in the room in the first place.

“Shit.” James muttered, running to the book to try and salvage their plan “Where were we? What steps are left?”

Peter, who was closest to Remus, was fast enough to catch his best friend before he ran through the portal, “Remus, calm yourself!”

“Let me go, Pete!” Remus says, trying to wiggle out as Sirius comes and helps restrain him “I have to go after her!”

But before Remus could follow, before James could make sense of the steps they’ve done, before any of them could truly grasp the reality happening before their eyes, the two stones that were afloat fell along with the candles that suddenly died as if there was a strong wind blowing in the room. The boys’ blood turns even colder. Fear, regret, and guilt slowly sink into them.

Wriggling himself out one last time, Remus finally steps closer to where the stones are now scattered to the floor. His chest was tight, a lump forming on his throat. The silence of the room was deafening. Neither of the boys knew what to do. James and Sirius feeling guilty to be plaguing their minds as Peter stood in shame for not doing anything to help avoid such disaster.

She was gone.

[canadian-cannibal]

May is EDS Awareness Month

EDS, or Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, is a genetic disorder that affects connective tissues and causes numerous intense physical problems all over the body. Think severe pain no matter what position you’re in, joints dislocating seemingly at random, gastrointestinal issues, fragile skin, becoming seriously injured just by stepping wrong, extreme fatigue and more. It’s a huge disorder that affects many different systems across the body, and it’s incredibly rare, making it hard to diagnose. There is no cure.

Despite the rarity of the disease, I have three close friends who have EDS.

One of them is an incredibly influential mentor to me. She teaches amazing classes and sets up huge camps each year to take care of families and needs in our community, despite the hardships that she and her family have to go through. One day in a class I was taking from her just last semester, she was not able to teach because she was having seizures and could not physically stand. She is often in at least one brace, and it’s not uncommon to see her rolling around on her knee scooter because one of her feet or ankles popped out of place or a tendon tore. Sometimes I will even see her in a wheel chair, and it’s hard to see such a vibrant woman who is usually enthusiastically jumping around and gesturing wildly (maybe not the best idea for someone with EDS, but there’s no stopping her, she’s like a force of nature) confined to a wheelchair. She has told me that when she is in a wheelchair, people don’t talk to her, they talk to the person pushing the wheelchair. It’s like she’s invisible. 

Knowing that has made me a lot more conscious and deliberate about talking to people in wheelchairs or with other disabilities.

Another friend is graduating this year and may or may not be able to walk across the stage to receive her diploma. Some days she can walk on her own, but other days she is confined to her wheelchair. She never knows which one tomorrow will be. I saw her last summer at a youth camp where the majority of the camp is spent hiking through the woods while pulling carts. She was determined to make it through the camp, but by the end of the first day, she could barely stand. The only reason she was able to continue on is because the people running the camp had a cart for especially for the handicapped with seats on it, and the other youth happily volunteered and took turns pulling her up and down hills and all around the camp. 

My third friend is one of my closest friends. She struggles daily with all the crap that entails having EDS. Some days, to me, it seems like her life is a living hell. Yet somehow she has always been there for me, even when I have acted like the idiot I am and made her tear her hair out over my antics.

I’m incredibly grateful for these friends in my life who have taught me that even if someone looks ok on the outside, on the inside they may be literally falling apart. And that’s not just physically. I know this is a post about EDS, but even if someone doesn’t have a disability, we should still treat them with kindness and respect. Everyone who surrounds us is a human being with their own struggles, and who are we to judge? Who are we to tell someone that they are wrong for hurting and crying and being vulnerable? Why can’t we make a safe space for them to fall apart in, and let them fall apart, because it’s ok to not be ok sometimes, then be there for them when they’re ready to pick up the pieces?

My EDS friends have taught me a lot, and I hope that maybe I’ll have shared even a little bit of their light. The world needs it.

So as you do whatever it is you do today, remember to treat others like they’re human beings worthy of your respect, especially those with disabilities. Because they are. Talk to someone in a wheelchair, not the person pushing them. It’ll make a big difference to them, even if it’s small to you. Make a safe space for all of the people out there who are falling apart, even if you can’t see it.

Some resources for EDS:

https://www.ehlers-danlos.com/

https://themighty.com/topic/ehlers-danlos-syndrome/ehlers-danlos-syndrome-support-resources/

https://gptoolkit.ehlers-danlos.org/

[runawaycats]

diary entry — graduation.

***

recently I graduated from university. I think it was one of the more enjoyable parts of my life, since I’ve been actively working on trying to enjoy the present and allow myself to feel positive emotions. but, even as I was standing there waiting to be lined up, and watching everyone else get their diploma, I still felt alone. everyone was talking about what their plans were after graduation. some were moving away elsewhere for grad school, some had internships lined up — they had aspirations, a family to take care of, a husband/boyfriend and children. they connected so easily, I wondered if there was something truly wrong with me. esp after my psychiatrist suspected that I may have autism, it further emphasized that I’m just inherently different and experiencing life much more difficult than my peers. I should be happy, but I also feel like no matter what I accomplish, I’m still expected to keep going and achieve a mile more, and I wonder if life, in the end, is even worth it all.

I don’t really know what I want. I know I like to write — but I am scared of getting burnt out if I work creatively, and I don’t see the appeal in working under marketing or something even if it might pay the bills. I know I like to draw — but rarely do artists even get paid a decent living wage, plus I have no idea how to market myself (nor do I want to), and am deeply insecure in my skills. maybe I’m being selfish by being picky. but I really don’t want to suffer more than I already am.

I don’t know what specific career I desire, because I feel I’ll just get burnt out no matter what. there’s a lot of things I’m still unsatisfied with about myself (lack of friendship/relationship experience, living closeted, lacking independence, dealing w/ trauma from being socially ostracized/father’s abuse) and a lot of things I struggle with doing (taking care of myself, forcing myself to go outside my house/speaking to friends, making my own decisions…) I wonder if I truly will ever gain experiences other people have. and I suppose while a nice thing for having “made it” this far, graduating with a 4.0 GPA and Honors, just confirms that my life is not like everyone else. I will always be lost amongst everyone.

life is unfair. my therapist tells me that it is something I really have to grieve — I have to grieve that I have lost opportunities and a freer life that I could’ve maybe had if I had taken more risks, let myself fail, interview/volunteer/try new things… maybe I’m just too stubborn to face that yet. maybe I just am holding onto this belief that I’m too special that God wouldn’t just make me suffer to just end up nowhere.

but I am possibly disabled. I am mentally ill. I am tired and I am not as competent as I delude myself to be. I have to be kinder to myself. I have to accept that my journey will be different than my high school friends. in many ways, I am privileged. and in many other ways, I am inferior and struggling. and to truly move forward, I have to accept it, even if it makes me want to claw myself apart. I live in hopes that I will be content with my life one day, learning how to soothe my feelings of worthlessness and ease the physical pain of envy and resentment.

[weedpicnic]

I fully know I do not have the motivation or maturity or stability necessary to be in college rn and I don’t realistically see the diploma I’m getting as being the main career that I’ll have for my whole entire life and yet I’m fucking keeping it up simply because I want the government to give me the funding and loans and shit because I HATE WORKING!!!!!! I don’t have enough fucking foresight or life expectancy to think about all the debt I’m giving future me n then my partner reminds me that I could probably very well get on disability payments which like maybe but I have seen other people with similar conditions to myself get their application rejected , i feel like it would deff get rejected now that I’ve been employed for many years and have no tangible evidence of how badly I’m deteriorating physically and mentally and even if I did both stop school and get on some form of welfare like be fucking real now I will not immediately become a blossoming artist or whatever I will simply just never go outside again and become as agaroaphobic as I was in 2020 and fall into a very bad place lol this game fucking sucks

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

054 of 2023

Do you have a reason to smile right now?

Yeah, I just came back from the sea. It was very windy, but awesome.

Do you start the shower water before or after you get in?

Before. We need our boiler to warm it up for, like, two minutes before it gets hot.

True or false: Your not sitting on a chair to use the computer right now.

True, I’m not.

Do you regret any of your past relationships?

I feel they’ve taught me something, but I only regret wasted months.

How many times have you been to a museum?

I can’t count, but I’ve only been to one in the city I live in.

How has this past week been for you?

Awesome. I travelled a bit around the province and beyond.

Is anything going to happen next month that makes you happy?

Hopefully. We’ll see.

Are you going to be getting any new pets soon?

Probably not. We already have two.

Do you like the rain?

Nah I hate rain. Belgium is rainy by nature and I just can’t get used to it.

Do you like it when stores have sales?

Who doesn’t? Always nice to save some money.

Would you rather be a Panda or Grizzly bear?

Panda, they look cool.

Do you have any of your Easter candy left over?

What? Easter was almost a year ago. I don’t have special candy for that occasion, too. We never buy it.

Is there someone on your mind that shouldn’t be?

Yeah, M. I can’t help it.

Does your ex make you mad?

No, we’re great friends.

Will you talk to someone on the phone tonight?

Why would I?

Do you like BBQ sauce?

I do, but as far as I know, every company has its own recipe.

Do the stairs in your house have carpet?

No, they don’t.

What were you doing at 9 AM this morning?

Stressing out about that door banging situation.

Can you do a twirl like a ballerina?

LMAO.

Would you rather eat 12 hot dogs or 6 hamburgers?

Either, but not in that amount omg. I barely eat.

What color is the door to your basement?

We don’t have any basement. Cellars in Belgian houses are a rarity.

Was your favorite class science because of the experiments?

Not only. By the way, we don’t have science classes in my country. We habve separete biology, chemistry, physics and all.

Do you like citrus pop or any drinks?

Yeah, Schweppes Citrus Mix is pretty cool.

Last time you wore the opposite sex’s clothing?

Never. I’m not a crossdresser.

What’s the last board game you played?

I don’t remember, must have been years ago.

What laundry detergent do you use?

Formil.

Do you trust people too easily?

No. I don’t trust people at all, unless I know them well.

Are you currently fighting with someone?

Not that I know of.

Do you hang out with your siblings friends?

No, we live too far from each other.

Last time you had butterflies in your stomach?

I don’t think I ever did. Maybe something close to it, last year with M.

Have you ever kept anything wild as a pet?

No, unless my cats count as wild XD

Do you set good examples for little kids?

Pffft. Not in the eyes of conservative people.

Does your favorite song mention a famous person’s name in it?

I don’t think so.

Are you counting down the days to anything?

Visiting my parents again, but we don’t know yet when it will happen.

Does your house have a pool?

LMAO XD it’s a tiny house built probably two centuries ago or something.

If you broke your computer, would you be able to fix it by yourself?

Easily. My secondary school diploma is computer technician.

On a scale 1-10, how much does the opposite sex confuse you?

11. Women are so complicated, and I don’t mean it in a wrong way.

When you party, do you get wild?

I used to get drunk a lot, but not anymore.

If you found a wallet full of money, what would you do?

Give it back to the owner. I always try to be fair.

Do you do cheers often?

What is that even?

Do you enjoy fishing?

No, I don’t.

Was your first job babysitting?

Thankfully not.

Did you wear a hoodie today?

I always wear a hoodie, unless it’s hot outside.

Are you embarrassed to talk about stuff with your dad?

No. I’d rather talk to him than to my mum. He’s a man like me, after all.

Taylor Swift or Carrie Underwood?

No.

[gluion]

safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ kim taerae

kim taerae x reader, slight sung hanbin x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with taerae.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, afab reader (no gendered terms), lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, hanbin is your ex, zhanghao and matthew appearance :’), elements of the last of us (don’t support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u’re remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo’s the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ thought i'd make my official debut to zeroseblr with this lil piece that i absolutely love!! i hope you guys look forward to more zb1 fics from me :DD here's the original one if you're interested! if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last? 

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans, taking them away from the lives they’ve lived, everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of hanbin’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember hanbin’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, hanbin was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, eyes off the path as he met your gaze. “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and hanbin found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of hanbin was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with hanbin. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant hanbin would be with you.

still, time continues to move. hanbin knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and hanbin met zhanghao, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, hanbin was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others, save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to zhanghao, you and hanbin got to learn about how to find supplies in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. hanbin decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. zhanghao became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and zhanghao reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing hanbin fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, hanbin glanced at zhanghao, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moved, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but zhanghao kept his arms around you, holding you back. from letting the infected reach you. from letting hanbin come back to you.

the wails that left you are enough to attract the infected. if only the infected were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to hanbin, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, zhanghao dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of hanbin, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, zhanghao saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to zhanghao, but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named taerae.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that hanbin left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out of your mouth. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, hanbin’s last words to you play on repeat. the ones he failed to say. the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.

“hao, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since hanbin’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “taerae! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, zhanghao caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way hanbin did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still. lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of taerae’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails. 

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

taerae still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and taerae got used to the new dynamic; while he went hunting and you were tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night came, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to taerae who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—zhanghao, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the fire that continued to burn. “we met zhanghao a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, taerae never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own. 

“i resented zhanghao after what happened.” you moved your gaze to taerae whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending hanbin’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows—together, for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw zhanghao,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told taerae that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you keep an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of zhanghao; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of hanbin you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, taerae listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and taerae found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he’s only a year younger than hanbin, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, taerae promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and taerae who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “i was there for my upperclassmen’s graduation.” it hit you like a sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i knew the people in the music program and we were going to celebrate after. until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my hanbin.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of taerae’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he spoke of you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where hanbin and zhanghao now stay. your mouth turned dry as taerae’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber. the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing hanbin’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of hanbin being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save hanbin that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress. 

the voice was caught in your throat. how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects?

how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of zhanghao that once caressed your face. the lips of hanbin that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were taerae’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

taerae took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps. when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you, and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is. 

half a year went by. taerae still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; taerae goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two—stolen glances, quiet giggles, linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and taerae decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm. 

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted the taerae’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun. 

taerae’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home, indulge in my hobbies, live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm, the movement of his chest against your back, the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since hanbin’s death, you considered it. 

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes which glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours. 

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival. you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named matthew, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and taerae grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of hanbin still lives?

but one glance at taerae was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin, but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” matthew asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met taerae’s for a split second—confusion, dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. taerae was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and matthew to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with taerae.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it cannot compare to how taerae shines.

you needed to get some sleep, is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. you couldn’t look at him. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward, refusing to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left taerae, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by and another goodbye had to be done. matthew stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were taerae’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told matthew before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot. 

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and taerae found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached taerae’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how taerae’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him, his sister, and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a strawberry and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of red and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house. 

you then stood in front of your old house with taerae by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two. 

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and hanbin. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw taerae crouched in front of the console table with eyes trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside hanbin with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside taerae. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind. 

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at taerae and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost hanbin, and 11 months since zhanghao told you his last words—but it was also 13 months spent with taerae, choosing to survive with him. 

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and hanbin; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from. 

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in taerae’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and taerae stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how taerae came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “taerae, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger, and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw taerae holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “taerae!” when he looked back at you, you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing taerae’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up. making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how taerae’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears. 

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“taerae!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as taerae was with you. 

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and taerae fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but taerae came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, front-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how taerae holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth, tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

taglist ➵ @kflixnet @blankjournal

[socialmediaincareerandlife]

Learning in a Virtual World

As someone who’s been studying and working in the virtual world for over 10 years, I’ve realized that the online world is one that quite simply gives you a chance. Until very recently, when a person wanted to learn something, they would have to go somewhere to get that knowledge. Whether a school, college, university, mosque, church, or community center library, you would have to travel to a physical location to get that knowledge. With the creation of the virtual world, studying and working have both become things that are free of the bounds of physical location. You don’t have to move to another city to take that scholarship or job offer, your kids don’t have to change schools and leave their friends behind, your spouse doesn’t need to ask for a transfer or move away from their family. The virtual world has given this generation opportunities to do and succeed in things our predecessors never had the chance to do, without requiring much sacrifice from our lives. 

Take me, for example. I’ve lived abroad for over 10 years. During that time, I’ve completed high-school, had a few jobs, and am now currently working as an online private tutor while earning a Canadian college diploma while living in Ireland - all without going to a brick-and-mortar building. I’ve also moved across 3 countries in that space of time and yet I never had to worry about giving up school or a job because of my location. Living as a digital nomad while having a meaningful career without giving up your personal needs is one of the best advantages of working remotely (Courtney, 2021). This is quite simply an amazing aspect of my life that I often take for granted, and only until writing this blog post did I really think about what a blessing I’ve been given. I live this amazing life of traveling and exploring without having to give up my education or professional goals. I love the independence it gives me and the skills I’ve learned along the way, like time management, self-discipline, dealing with my procrastination tendencies, and finding ways to be my own source of motivation and inspiration.

That last one was and continues to be one of the most difficult skills to learn. I miss the social atmosphere of a real classroom or workplace because “social interaction does help encourage more effective teamwork” (Advantages and Disadvantages of a Virtual Workforce, 2022). I had more motivation and drive to succeed when others were trying to do the same in the same space as me -- kind of like exercising alone at home versus working out in a gym or taking a fitness class. I’m sure many other people can relate to that when Covid-19 put the whole world into several lockdowns. Humans need to belong to a group, we are built to live and thrive in packs, not as sole hunters. Every human invention created has been for the advancement of humankind as a whole species, not just the inventor. I didn’t understand this before starting my online journey but now I’m a proponent of “old-school” classes. I’ve made it a goal to try and take one class in person with a group of other people, even if its something as simple as attending a workshop. It gives me so much energy and purpose and rejuvenates my sense of determination to do what it takes to succeed in that class. Whatever the goal is, it doesn’t seem as difficult when it’s shared among a group of people in my immediate vicinity.

All in all, I believe that continuing down this path of virtual engagement is a wonderful opportunity for people to expand their horizons without giving up much about their current lives. Compared to just a few decades ago when people had to give up a big part of their lives to work or study someplace else, we can now do those things without even moving an inch! It truly is an amazing chance to be given!

Resources:

Advantages and Disadvantages of a Virtual Workforce. (2022). Retrieved from The Hartford: https://www.thehartford.com/business-insurance/strategy/virtual-workplace/advantages-disadvantages

Courtney, E. (2021, June 2). Benefits of Remote Work. Retrieved from Flexjobs: https://www.flexjobs.com/blog/post/benefits-of-remote-work/

[frogtanii]

[buckle up; this one is a long one (1.6k words)]

things weren’t supposed to turn out this way.

she was supposed to show up, apologize “sincerely,” and the boys, her boys, were supposed to welcome her with open arms and swiftly discard of you.

instead, she was sitting in the back of a cramped police car with two pigs, one of which had a horrible b.o. problem and an affinity for sauerkraut.

it was so frustrating.

and, of course, it was all your fault.

you’d been blocking her from true happiness ever since the beginning when you’d first met in middle school. it was crazy because you’d actually seemed nice; kind, understanding, and you didn’t judge her for what her father did to her mother or for how she acted out because of that.

sure, you were a little weird and sometimes you could be downright rude to other kids in your class but you cared for her in a way that no one else had before.

(un)fortunately, you didn’t come alone — you were a packaged deal. your childhood friend, daishou, came into her life right along with you. she didn’t mind at first; daishou was fun when he wanted to be but he was mostly full of snarky comments and sarcastic quips.

the three of you spent all your time with each other; from playing at the playground to helping her begin her makeup youtube channel in 8th grade.

you all got along pretty well up until you got to highschool. once there, you threw yourself into your studies, sort of retracting yourself from her and daishou.

how selfish.

she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by you—you knew how bad she was at making friends and you didn’t even care, leaving her all alone to fend for herself.

well, not all by herself.

daishou was a constant. no matter where she was, or how alone she was feeling, he was there to provide entertainment at the most, and his presence at the least.

it wasn’t always the healthiest, most functional friendship, she could admit that. there were weeks that daishou would choose to ignore her for no apparent rhyme or reason, citing his explanation as he just didn’t feel like it.

obviously it sucked but he was her only friend, ever since you so cruelly abandoned them. i mean, you still ate lunch with them every day and invited them over to study and hang out, but it was not the same.

with you so absent, she grew closer and closer to daishou to the point she was spending almost every waking moment with him. and, as the story so goes, she fell for him, head over heels.

she knew it was a bad idea, if their friendship was anything to go off of but she didn’t care. she was desperate for love and physical affection and he seemed willing to at least give her the latter.

after she decided to confess, nerves all the way in her throat and a box of chocolates behind her back, daishou took her virginity in the back of his ford fusion, hard, fast and nothing like she’d imagined.

the next day, she’d cornered you in the library (where you always seemed to be) to tell you the good news. your face was unusually blank as she detailed the best night of her life to you, your response being less than stellar when she was done. “please be careful,” you had said.

what did that even mean? you clearly wanted to keep daishou safe from her which was ridiculous because weren’t you supposed to be her friend too? she’d stormed out of the library after that, determined to demand a kiss from daishou to make her feel better.

that day was one of the last that she’d see you for a while. you got caught up with clubs and schoolwork (and apparently therapy for god knows what) while she got caught up with daishou.

things with him weren’t... great. they never really were but things were getting even worse. his random bouts of silence got longer and though it was only freshman year and they’d been dating for less than 5 months, he’d meet with her after school with a hickey plastered on his collarbone that she knew she didn’t put there (she sucked even harder over the spot to claim it as her own).

as she said, things weren’t great but they weren’t horrible either. they remained that way all the way up until sophomore year.

you and her had drifted even further, hardly speaking to one another unless it was for a project or to vaguely greet one another in the halls. it was okay though. you had all your other friends and she... well she had daishou.

speaking of, her “boyfriend” had been more distant than usual. she wasn’t an idiot and she knew he’d been seeing other girls on the side, but she believed she would be the one he’d end up with, the one he’d marry.

how foolish she had been.

it was prom night and she felt beautiful. her beauty channel had finally begun picking up traction (she’d just hit 13k subscribers the night before!!) so she filmed a prom night makeup tutorial, making sure that every square inch of her face was perfect. donning a silky blue floor length dress, she felt like a princess and she certainly looked the part.

she showed up to daishou’s house about 30 minutes before the event, ringing his doorbell with an elated grin painted all over her face. he had mentioned in passing that his parents and older sister would be out for the weekend, leaving the house for themselves. that meant sex and sex meant being wanted.

after the third ring of the bell, she started to get nervous. maybe he wasn’t ready yet? maybe he needed help with his tie? just when she was about to wring the bell again, the door swung open to reveal daishou... not in his suit.

“oh, it’s you,” he’d grumbled. “‘m not goin’ to prom.” she felt her breath catch in her throat. she’d protested and begged for an explanation but he wouldn’t give one to her. eventually, she’d followed him into his house, furious because how could he do this to her? on her night?

it didn’t take very long for him to get fed up, his snake-like eyes honing in on her, filled with venom. “‘m not goin’ because i don’t like you anymore. you still look pretty though.”

just like that, with just a few words, he’d shattered her heart. she was frozen in place, completely disconnected from daishou, her love, as he not-so-gently pushed her out the door, slamming it in her face.

she felt tears stream down her cheeks and before she knew it, her legs were carrying her to a place she hadn’t been in months.

banging frantically on the door, she cried out, begging for someone, anyone to hear her. the door opened quickly and there you stood. you’d clearly been studying but as you took in her frazzled appearance, it seemed as though your heart broke.

you ushered her inside, sat her own the couch, and began to make her a cup of tea, your parents having been out for the night as well. once the kettle went off, you quickly prepped her drink and gave it to her, the words flowing out of her like liquid once she had taken a sip.

she didn’t know why she was even there but despite the animosity between the two of you, you seemed like you truly... cared. (neither of you mentioned the tears that stained your favorite t shirt or the quiet apologies you muttered into her hair).

that night quickly went and passed and by the next day, she was feeling rejuvenated and more like herself. however, that feeling quickly dissipated when she caught you in the hallway between classes speaking with daishou behind the stairwell in hushed tones.

within the span of a few hours, her heart had been broken twice and she was sure she’d never felt such heartache before.

she turned on her heel and darted away, avoiding your every attempt to talk to her for weeks and weeks until you just... stopped trying. after you’d cut off conversation, yet again, the sadness quickly festered and morphed into anger.

that anger only grew when she watched you graduate at the top of your class in your senior year, your smile blinding as you accepted your diploma. it only grew when she saw that you had made it into the university of your choice on your instagram story, her own rejection letter torn up in the bottom of her wastebin. it only grew when she saw you’d made your own youtube channel, her own going untouched and neglected (her last video had been a half-assed “get ready with me” that had more dislikes than likes due to her horrible makeup and even worse attitude).

soon enough, the rage had intensified until it had taken over her whole being. she was just so angry at all that you’d done to her, all the ways you’d ruined her life that she couldn’t keep herself from plotting your demise.

when she got the email from the hyper house management team that invited her into the house and offered the option that she could pick someone she wanted to move in as well, her anger turned into excitement.

this was her chance. this was her moment to turn your life into a living hell, to make it at least a fraction of what she went through by your hands.

she was going to make you pay and god, was it going to feel great.

the metal of the handcuffs chafed her wrists as she adjusted herself against the cool leather of the cruiser, the discomfort removing her from her reverie.

yeah, right. it seemed as though she was the only one “paying” right about now.

she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling, tears filling her eyes but refusing to fall.

things definitely weren’t meant to turn out like this. not at all.

℗ poker face

not like this

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - OMFG THE BACKSTORY REVEALED I AM SO OVER IT >:(( this took me forever to write and i still wasn’t able to include everything i wanted to so hop over to my asks if you need any clarification!! oh oh && just a reminder, this playlist is from meiko’s perspective so chances are, things didn’t exactly go just like this wink wonk KAJS ANYWAYS DONT FORGET TO FEED ME ILY <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[trektraveler]

Nightingale Chapter Nine: Make a Different Choice

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Nine: Make a Different Choice

Word Count: 4443

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing!

Additional Notes: The response to this story has been beyond my expectations! You guys have been the best! Thank you for continuing to read my work and encourage me, its kept my eye on the prize :)

Series Masterlist

You felt numb, detached. It washed over you when you first opened the file from the police. It contained all the details of your life that you had been so desperate for, yet it did not bring any peace of mind. You now had the statistics of your own life. Your address, phone number, birth date, height, weight, employment history, and your name. Dr. Gabriella Baines.

You opened your phone and accessed the files again, as if they might have changed since you first read them. Dr. Gabriella Baines, age thirty-two, employed at Vancouver General Hospital for the past three years. No record of any living family, an only child born to Sarah and Martin Baines, both deceased. Not married either. You hadn’t been wearing a wedding band when you woke up in the hospital, but it was nice to have the confirmation at least.

A crease formed between your brows as you frowned down at your driver’s license picture. It looked like you. All of the information sounded familiar, but none of it felt right. And none of it had shaken loose any of your missing memories and for the first time, you were glad. You didn’t want your memories back, not anymore. The prospect of having to go back scared the hell out of you.

Jensen kept stealing side glances at you as he maneuvered through the traffic of downtown Vancouver. You were chewing nervously on the inside of your cheek and tension was coming off you in waves. Ever since the VPD called, you’d been on edge. Not that he could blame you, God knows how he would be dealing in your position.

He had poured over the new information with you and was not at all surprised you had an M.D. after your name.

“A doctor! I knew it!”

“You did not.”

“I suspected! All that stuff with Maddy’s little girl, and you took care of my disgusting flu like it was nothing. And you pointed out that Latin typo in the script.”

You rolled your eyes, “I still don’t think anyone would have really noticed that. No one even speaks Latin.”

“Okay, one; our fans notice everything. Two; people in the medical field use Latin all the time.”

“Musicians use it too,” you pointed out just to be obstinate. “And botanists, and lawyers, and philosophers… and Latin teachers!”

Jensen continued despite the interruption, “Three; you are ridiculously smart and four; you want to help people. You want to make a difference.”

He beamed at you as if you’d just earned your diploma. “Doctor Gabby!”

A pit formed in our stomach at hearing him use that name. You couldn’t explain why, but you hated it. “Ah. Could you still call me Y/N? Please?”

His smile faded as he saw how upset you were. You looked ready to panic, so he pulled you into a tight hug. “I’ll call you anything you want me to, okay? You’ll always be my Y/N.”

Finally, he pulled into the employee parking at Vancouver General Hospital and switched off the ignition, “You ready?”

You scanned the parking lot, landscaping and signage, silently testing yourself. Once again that uneasy feeling of DeJa’Vu came over you, but you couldn’t tie it to anything specific.

“This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t be this nervous, I mean… it’s just my life, right?”

“I think nervous is a perfectly normal response. I’d be having kittens if I were in your shoes.” He reached over and grabbed your hand. He laced your cold fingers with his warm ones and coaxed your eyes to meet his.

“I’m right here with you, okay? You’re not alone. Not ever.”

He kept hold of your hand as the two of you passed through the glass double doors and into the main lobby. You noticed that light, clean hospital scent right off the bat. Sunlight streamed in through the skylights and windows making the space pleasant and airy. Simple furniture sat in groupings around coffee tables laden with magazines. The floors were carpeted in a swirling grey, tone on tone pattern.

There was nothing remarkable about the space, it could have been the reception for any hospital anywhere. Truly generic and you felt that was somehow the point.

“Hey Gabby!”

You flinched in spite of yourself and tightened your grip on Jensen’s hand. A bubbly girl with glasses and a curly ponytail waved at you from the check in desk.

“Hey,” you waved back and smiled, hoping to look normal.

“Back early from vacation?”

“Yup, I’ve got a meeting with Doctor McMillan.”

The girl tilted her head, “Tony?”

You mentally kicked yourself, of course you wouldn’t use such a formal title. These weren’t just your colleagues, most of them were your friends. “Tony, right. Okay, see you later!”

You must have looked psychotic, practically running away from a simple interaction. When the elevator doors mercifully closed, you sagged against the stainless-steel wall and groaned.

“I sounded like a complete idiot.”

Jensen punched the button for the top floor, “No you didn’t. You’re doing fine.”

“I feel like I’m failing a test on my own life. All these people know me, they’ve seen me every day for years and I have no idea who they are.”

“It’s okay, they’ll understand.”

“I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

He pushed the pause button, and the elevator carriage came to a stop. He gently took you by the shoulders and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, you aren’t disappointing anyone. There is absolutely no pressure here. We don’t have to do this today. You already explained the situation to your boss over the phone and I’m sure he will understand if you reschedule.”

You frowned uncertainly, “That wouldn’t be very professional.”

“This is a lot to process all at once, and you are still recovering. Professionalism is not worth the migraine or the dizzy spells that come when you push yourself too hard. It’s not worth your health.”

“No. I’m not leaving. Not when I’m so close.” You took a deep breath and forced your nerves to steady. “I have to know everything.”

Jensen held your determined gaze, trying to assess your condition. “Okay, but if this gets to be too much, I’m getting you out of here.”

You nodded and he pushed the button that caused the elevator to resume its course.

Doctor Anthony McMillan was an imposing looking man with glasses, close-cropped black and silver hair and matching beard, but when he broke into a wide smile, his dark eyes sparkled with humor.

“Gabs,” he said, drawing you into a hug. When he pulled back and saw your eyes wide with uncertainty, he chuckled. “Ah kiddo, they got ya good, huh?”

You didn’t really know what to say to that, “Yeah. Sorry…”

“Don’t go worrying yourself, this is all to be expected. Please, sit.”

You and Jensen each took a seat in the leather chairs opposite the massive oak desk that bore the Chief Medical Resident plaque on it’s face. You clamped your hands tightly together in your lap and kept your posture ramrod straight, hoping you at least looked like a medical professional. This man was your superior, and you had absolutely no idea what your working relationship was like. Did he know anything about you outside of work? Were you punctual or chronically late? Did you have a favorite vending machine? Did your colleagues like you or avoid you like the plague?

“Doctor Stevens forwarded me your file. Looks like you used up one of your nine lives, but according to him you are doing well with your recovery.” McMillan pulled his glasses off and tossed them on the desk, it instantly made him look ten years younger.

“So tell me, have you recovered any of your memories?”

You shrugged nervously, “Um, a few? It’s pretty jumbled though. I was hoping coming here would jog something for me, but nothing so far.”

“Brain injuries are tricky devils. There’s really no telling what causes amnesia to resolve itself. It’s not like in the movies where you see that special person, or you hear your favorite song and everything comes flooding back. It’s mostly just time, and there is a good chance that some memories will simply be lost to you.”

Odd, but it felt comforting to have someone actually say it outright. Maybe it was the underlying nature of medical colleges, this was your profession, after all. It was a matter of fact and hearing him say it freed you from having to keep up the pretense. Suddenly, you didn’t feel quite so stuck.

“What does that mean for me professionally?”

“Well, you aren’t going to be pulling any all-nighters for a while. There are a number of tests that we will need to run to make sure that you are fit to return to work. Both physically and cognitively. Given the severity of your memory loss and the nature of your job, we will also be thoroughly testing your medical knowledge.”

He gave you a fond smile, as if you were a favorite niece, “Don’t let any of that worry you, Gabby. You are one of the most talented doctors I’ve ever had on my team, you’ll be back in fighting shape before you know it.”

“Why didn’t you guys report her missing?”

For the first time since entering McMillan’s office, you looked at the man seated next to you. There was a hardness in his features, his jaw was set, and his eyes were sharp. The hint of red flush peeking out from under the collar of his shirt and slowly traveled up his neck. He was pissed, properly pissed.

“I mean, it’s been a month since the accident. Didn’t you notice one of the most talented doctors on your team never reported for work?”

Tony sat back in his chair and held Jensen’s gaze easily, “The details of Doctor Baines’ employment here are confidential.”

“No.” You spoke up, “It’s alright. Whatever it is, you can say it in front of Jensen. I need to know, please.”

“You were on mandatory leave of absence. It started a couple of days before your accident. You weren’t due for reevaluation until last week. When you didn’t come in and didn’t return my calls, I knew there was a problem.”

“Why was I on leave?”

Tony steepled his fingers on the desk in front of him and gave a heavy sigh. “I’ve been working at this hospital for thirty years, ten of those years as Chief Medical. I’ve seen a lot of doctors come and go. Talented, dedicated men and women and I was honored to work with each and every one of them. But you are one of my favorites. You’re special Gabby, if there is such a thing as a calling… medicine is yours.”

“You’ve got a real gift, kid. Your work ethic is unmatched, bordering on obsessive at times. I used to think it was ambition, but you never wanted out of the E.R. Most doctors start there, but they don’t stay, you never wanted to leave. I can’t tell you how many discussions we had about it and you’d just say you were happy where you were.”

“You didn’t believe her?” Jensen asked.

“I did. But I also know you Gabs, better than you think, that’s why I offered you the promotion. Head of Pediatrics. Johnson is retiring at the end of the year, and you’d be perfect for it.”

“I didn’t want it?”

“That’s the thing, you did.” Tony was obviously still confused as to why you reacted that way, “It was all over your face, but you turned it down. Then you started picking up extra shifts, working doubles, triples. One day you had a panic attack. It was so bad you passed out in the cafeteria. Your leave started immediately after.”

You weren’t sure why, but tears gathered in your eyes, and you felt tight in your chest. Hearing him tell you what happened was like reliving it, even though you couldn’t remember it yourself.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I turned down the job,” you heard yourself say. “It sounds like something I would love.”

McMillan got up and handed you a bottle of water from the office sized refrigerator in the corner. “I wish I could tell you why, but you never confided that in me. As for the rest of the staff, no one else is aware that it was mandatory. You’ve never taken a vacation before, so after your collapse we just told everyone you were taking time off for stress.”

You rolled the bottle of water between your hands, “So they don’t know about accident either, or the amnesia?”

“Confidential. The only way they will know is if you choose to tell them.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

He patted your shoulder, “I’ve got your back, kid. Never doubt it”

“Are you sure you want to go to your apartment? It’s been a hell of a big day already, Y/N.”

You shifted the bag of personal effects from your locker from one hand to the other. You had found a spare apartment key along with three pairs of scrubs, a copy of Hemmingway’s A Moveable Feast, and a box of protein bars.

“Yes, I’m sure. I just want to get it over with, like ripping of a band-aid.”

The two of you were halfway across the parking lot when you heard your name being called.

“Gabby! Hey, wait up!”

You turned to see a woman about your age in a white lab coat jogging over from a black sedan. She looked friendly and really, really excited to see you.

“I thought that was you! Why didn’t you tell me you would be here today? We could have grabbed lunch.”

“Oh, sorry… I just had to pick up a few things. You know, in and out.”

She was pretty, you realized. Short pixie cut brown hair and huge hazel eyes that were lined with winged, liquid black. She looked fun, and you really wished you could remember her. Suddenly, she noticed Jensen and her mouth dropped wide open.

“Oh my God! You’re Jensen Ackles!” She turned to you and smacked your arm, “What are you doing with Jensen Ackles?! Seriously! And why didn’t you tell me? How did you meet him?! Oh. My. God!”

If the past fifteen year had taught Jensen anything, it was how to deal with a fan. The shift was immediate and seamless. He smiled in that way that lit up his whole face, his green eyes crinkled at the edges and his movie star perfect teeth gleamed.

“Hi there, what’s your name?”

She took the hand he offered, and you swore you could see her melt at the contact. “Ah, I’m Valerie, Val… I’m’ Val.”

“Nice to meet you Val, I’m Jensen.”

“Oh, I know, I mean, of course I do. I LOVE Supernatural, its seriously my favorite show! I’ve been watching since the beginning, and I never miss it. I just love it!”

“It’s always great to hear that people love it as much as I do, thank you so much. And thanks for watching me ghost bust all these years, it really means everything.”

Val blushed and grinned even more, “Dean Winchester is my favorite, I just love him! Oh my, god!”

Jensen titled his head, charming and flirtatious. “You don’t say.”

Val reached over and smacked you again, “Seriously, what are you doing with Jensen freaking Ackles? You don’t even watch Supernatural!”

Then she turned back to Jensen, “She doesn’t even watch Supernatural. I invited her over for a marathon and she fell asleep in the first ten minutes!”

“Well, maybe now she’ll give it another shot,” he replied with a wink. “Listen, Val, we’ve got to get going but would you like a picture?”

“Oh my God!”

Val shoved her phone into your hands as Jensen wrapped an arm around her shoulders. You took several pictures for her and handed the phone back, while she gushed.

“Thank you so, so much, Jensen. This has been the best… wow, you even smell good. Everyone always says you smell good!”

Jensen chuckled, “Well you just made my day, Val. Keep on saving those lives, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Ready?” he asked as your star-struck co-worker bounded away.

You were a little star-struck yourself. You’d never been with Jensen when someone recognized him as a celebrity. A few people you’d gotten to know in his apartment building asked about him and expressed admiration, but nothing like this. This was autographs and flashing lights. Seeing him work, was just that, Jensen at work. This was a glimpse of how the rest of the world saw him.

“Is it always like that when someone recognizes you?”

“For the most part.”

“It doesn’t bother you? Strangers being so familiar with you?”

“Well, they aren’t familiar with me, they’re familiar with Dean and I look like him. And I’m an actor, a performer. Most days I perform in front of a very small audience of my colleagues, so it’s nice to get some feedback from the people I’ve been pouring my heart out for.”

He tilted his head, worried that you’d been put off by the experience. “Did it bother you?”

“No,” you softly replied. “I just realized that there is a whole world of people out there who’ve known you for fifteen years, longer maybe. It seems like I’ve spent so much time with you, but maybe not by those standards.”

“They only know an image. It’s my work and a put a lot of myself into it, but no matter how much of own spin I put on a character it’s not real. It’s just a character.”

The sincerity in his clear, green eyes tugged at you, pleaded with you. “Dean Winchester is a hell of a guy, but he’s not me. I’m still the same goofball you’ve been bunking with.”

He looked so vulnerable, like he was worried you would see him differently now. That you would prefer the hunter hero that his fans did.

“Dean’s alright,” you said with a soft smile. “But he’s got nothing on you.”

You lived in a modest, one bedroom apartment on the sixth floor. It was nothing like Jensen’s place, not that you expected it to be. But it wasn’t the size or the fancy amenities it lacked; it was the soul. The personal touches, the odds and ends human beings packed into their houses to make them homes were glaringly absent. The rooms were clean, except for the fine layer of dust on the shelves and a carton of milk in the fridge that was past the expiration date.

The walls were a non-descript shade of cream, the furniture looked as if it came with the place. You had lots of books, mostly medical reference texts and a few secondhand fictions. No pictures. Not a single photograph of anyone. Not framed, not taped to the fridge. Nothing.

The only décor were stock paintings, the kind you’d find in a big box store. The kind used to give dimension and color to a room, but not really enjoyable. As bland and boring as room temperature oatmeal.

Exactly four plates, four glasses, four mugs and four silverware settings. The cupboards were mostly filled with shelf stable pasta and canned soup. You didn’t even have spices beyond salt and pepper.

You didn’t live here. You existed here.

Jensen stayed in the living room while you explored the bedroom. It was hard for him to imagine you here, it was cold. Everything about it screamed temporary. But it did fit with the portrait of a workaholic McMillan painted. But then the question remained, if your work was your life, why didn’t you take the promotion? People made personal sacrifices for their careers every day, but this was more than sacrifice. This felt like a punishment.

He picked up a stack of opened mail from the small desk. Mostly regular bills and your bank statement. He didn’t really mean to pry, but he wanted to solve this mystery as much as you.

Your account balance had him raising his eyebrows, “Well, you certainly know how to save for a rainy day.”

When you didn’t come back, he went looking for you. Stopping at the threshold of the bedroom, he didn’t see you at first. But he heard you sniffle and saw the light coming from inside the closet.

“Y/N?” he rounded the bed and saw you sitting cross-legged on the carpeted closet floor. He knelt beside you, brushing the hair out of your face. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You felt so lost. The more you found out about yourself, the less sense your life seemed to make. You managed to hold it together pretty well until you opened your closet. Fourteen sets of scrubs, all in the same shade of blue. Fourteen long sleeved undershirts in white. Two pairs of white nursing shoes and one pair of running shoes. That was it. That was the extent of your wardrobe.

“Everything here is just so sad and empty. Its lonely. Why would I choose to live like this?”

“I don’t know,” Jensen admitted, he’d been asking himself the same question.

“I don’t understand, I don’t even like the colors! It’s like everything else I found today, it sounds familiar, looks familiar but it feels wrong! It’s all wrong.” You wiped your wet cheeks with the back of your hand. “If this place burned to the ground, I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Where are all of my people? My friends, my family. Why am I all alone?”

Jensen switched positions so he could pull you onto his lap. He rubbed his warm hand in soothing circles up and down your back. “You’re not alone, Sweetheart.”

You curled into his chest and as your tears dried up, you were able to put into words something that you couldn’t before.

“Someone is missing, Jay. I know it. I feel this hole in my heart. I thought that coming here would be the answer, that I’d suddenly find that missing piece and everything would make sense again. But for every answer I got, ten more questions came right along with it.”

You let out a forlorn sigh, “I’ve chosen this. All of this. My life. My job. This apartment. I don’t understand why I would do that. Not when it feels so very wrong.”

“I wish I could tell you why you did what you did; why you turned down a job you wanted, why you picked this shoebox of an apartment. But just because you made that choice once, doesn’t mean you have to keep it.” The corner of his mouth lifted as you threaded your fingers through his.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “Loneliness is a choice. Just like the boring ass color of these walls.”

You laughed at that, and he kissed your forehead, then your temple.

“You can make a different choice.”

He kissed away the tear tracks on your cheeks, then rested his forehead against yours. “You can always make a different choice.”

You didn’t realize it until he actually put it into words, phrased it so that you couldn’t dismiss it. He was offering you something real and it had nothing to do with a job or a house. This beautiful man, who cared when he didn’t have to. It seems he saved you from a fate far worse than drowning. That was why your old life felt so hollow, it didn’t have him.

You gazed into those bottle green eyes and your heart tripped. You loved him. And as your mind slowly came to the realization your heart had weeks ago, you felt a shift. Jensen talked about a choice, but this wasn’t a choice. This was a cosmic truth, a lightning bolt from Olympus that would inevitably change everything. Loving him wasn’t the choice. What to do about it was.

You reached up and lightly grazed his hairline, trailing a caress down his cheek, your thumb tracing the ridge of his cheekbone. It was almost as if you were seeing him for the first time. You slowly explored the planes of his face through your feather soft touch. All the while your eyes stayed locked on his. You watched with fascination as the color changed shade by shade. You saw your own desire reflected back at you in their flickering depths.

When your fingers traced the shape of his lips, you paused. Something shifted again and sparked between you.

“Jensen.”

Your lips met his and time stopped. You couldn’t remember any kisses that came before but you were certain this one would have put them all to shame. The whole world fell away, replaced with delicious details. His hand coming up to cup the nape of your neck while the other splayed the small of your back. The light scrape of stubble as his chin brushed yours. The dance of your noses as you each changed positions to find that perfect angle. The rapid staccato of his heart beating under your palm as you flattened your hand against his chest.

When his tongue slipped inside and brushed against yours, it sent sparks down your spine. Your every nerve stood on end and sent a flush of heat across your skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck while he held you close and continued his assault on every one of your senses.

Jensen had never tasted anything as sweet as your kiss. Not on screen and certainly not in real life. He’d dreamt about having you in his arms for so long, it took every bit of constraint he had not to take you right there on the floor of your closet. You deserved to be savored, to be worshiped. He didn’t want to rush things with you, he wanted to enjoy every second. He wanted you to enjoy every second. God, you fit so perfectly against him. You shifted in his lap, and he felt himself strain against his jeans. You both groaned in unison.

“Jensen,” you sighed into his kiss.

“Oh, Y/N…”

“Jensen,” you said again, panting to catch your breath. “Wait. Stop…”

He pulled back almost immediately, worried he gone too fast. Your eyes were hazy and your lips swollen.

“Right, you’re right… we should stop,” he breathed, trying to get his thundering heart under control.

“No. It’s not that... I don’t want to do this here. Can we go home?” you whispered. “Please?”

He took both of your hands in his and brought your fingers to his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, Sweetheart. Let’s go home.”

[moativational]

I’m back!! I finally got around to doing my July bullet journal spread. I’ve been doing monthly spreads since I graduated since I don’t have a need for weekly spreads at the moment. I also received my diploma today!! It felt really good to have the physical diploma to reaffirm the work I put in during college, especially during my final year. I do have some content planned from my final semesters that I haven’t been able to post yet.

This theme is based on the Seventeen Darl+ing MV as requested by a fellow TCT member!! 

🎧 | Darl+ing - Seventeen

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing iv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 2, 105

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a glimpse into the past

Jungkook’s been to a total of two graduations his entire life—one was his middle school’s graduation that seemed more like a farewell party and his older brother’s college one. Now, he can say that he’s attended three. But he’s never felt like this—never felt dread to say a temporary goodbye to a face he’s been so accustomed to seeing.

Maybe that’s why he’s in such a sour mood as his peers hugged their seniors' goodbyes, smiles on their face while they engaged in chatter about the future. Jungkook’s always been hard on parting and today is no different. Especially with the constant reminders at every corner of the hallways, streams of red and blue painting the ceilings with a big fat ‘happy graduation to the seniors!’ Mocking him on his journey to his classes.

He almost wants to slap some sense into himself. Because why was he terrified for the beginning of a new chapter that wasn’t his story to tell? Why was he dreading the moment that the seniors collected their diplomas and walked off the stage; and out of his life?

But he doesn’t do that; because the fear is as addictive as the excitement he feels when he thinks of you. A conflicting and tortuous juxtaposition of the beautiful day for a valedictorian and her younger friend.

“Jungkook!” A voice calls, and when he turns he sees Taehyung barrelling towards him with two people trailing closely behind.

When Taehyung plummets into Jungkook’s chest with an oof, but all Jungkook can focus on; despite the ache in his chest, is you.

You’re so pretty. But that’s nothing new for Jungkook. However, you were smiling, soft and sweet like the person who stayed up during her finals to tutor Jungkook on math concepts and the same girl who supported him through his football trials in junior year.

But you were grown, and the robe was the testimony of your age and maturity—the level of intelligence that you possess only grew with time and now you were walking towards him with a sense of quiet assuredness that he’s always admired you for.

Jungkook’s sure he’s gaping but he’s never been able to control himself around you.

“Can you stop gawking at her already?” Taehyung complains, twisting the skin between Jungkook’s armpit in retaliation.

Jungkook burns but scowls at the older boy who simply snickers in response.

“I’m so glad you’re graduating.” Jungkook snaps.

Taehyung snorts, “If I go she goes.”

Jungkook purses his lips as he readies himself for another retort, but you arrive and the first thing he notices is how gentle you smell. His favourite scent in principle, a whiff of laundry detergent accompanied with the light floral perfume he remembers his mother gifting you for your birthday.

“You’re gonna miss us, aren’t you?” Is the first thing Jimin says when he greets the younger boy with a ruffle to his head.

Jungkook glowers in embarrassment as he tries to fight him off, and despite his shorter stature in height—Jimin was in fact, quite strong.

Regardless of his flustered state, you smile at him warmly and perhaps Jungkook is biased when it comes to you because he’s sure you’ve always smiled the same, but every tilt of your lips evoke an array of different feelings in Jungkook’s chest.

“The two of you are like dumb and dumber so no—not really. God knows he’s finally granted my wish for emancipation.” Jungkook grumbles.

Taehyung feigns offence with a hand to his chest, leaning his head against Jungkook’s shoulders while he rolls his eyes.

Then he remembers you, the girl who just smiles as the world will always do her good.

“But I’ll miss Noona, though.” He says, and he hopes the shakiness of his voice isn’t obvious. “She’s the only one that doesn’t tease me.”

You grin up at Jungkook, giggling when Jimin and Taehyung gape at the younger boy’s audacity.

“Yah. You call her Noona and not us Hyung?!” Taehyung screeches were loud enough for the group of you to wince at his loudness.

“Don’t forget that you would have never have met her if it weren’t for us, you brat.” Jimin reminds, though not maliciously.

Jungkook does thank the stars for them introducing him to you. Because he doubts otherwise you’d ever interact with him. You were always in your own bubble, tucked away in a safe space filled with your own sense of solace and comfort. And Jungkook admired that.

He liked being alone, but he never wanted to be lonely. You were a breath of fresh air when you taught him the lines between loneliness and being physically alone; and how you learnt to never conflate the two. You were independent and bright, but warm and welcoming—and Jungkook remembers that these feelings weren’t just a floor away anymore.

“Ignore them, Kook.” You sigh. “Gonna miss you too.”

Jungkook feels himself melt because you say it so sweetly and sincerely.

Taehyung and Jimin ruin his love-blurred lenses by gagging at your blatant display of affection towards the younger boy.

“The two of you are so gross.” Jimin groans, earning a nod from his other half.

You roll your eyes when all Jungkook does is flush at the insinuation.

“Unlike the two of you, we make the better and more rational pair.” You chastise. “Don’t we, Kook?”

And the nickname he’s grown to love though he has a love-hate relationship with it slips off your tongue and he finds himself agreeing with you.

“These two idiots are a quarter of a brain-cell combined on a good day,” Jungkook mutters.

You burst out into laughter, rubbing a calming hand onto his shoulder and he feels the dread come in. Because this was no longer something he could reach out to when you went to college.

“Whatever.” Jimin scoffs.

Then the PA system sounds, and the principal calls for the graduates to gather at the hall. And it represents all of Jungkook’s worries in an announcement and he’s not ready to let you go yet.

“That’s our call.” You declare, eyes darting to the other seniors who pull apart from their juniors to rush to the hall.

Jungkook’s eyes widen one last time before Jimin and Taehyung both wrap their arms around Jungkook tightly, murmuring a much more sincere and grateful remark than their previous chides. And he feels slightly bad that he can’t respond because his brain is far more focused on your lone figure, who eyes him with sad yet gentle eyes.

“You’ll come to our role call, right?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook gulps because all he can focus on is your face.

“Y-yeah. Course’.” He mumbles. He feels the need to say something—do something before people crowd you after it’s over. Jungkook would never stand a chance.

He seems rooted in his feet, Jimin and Taehyung already trailing off with their arms around each other and words of their future in the air. You smile at Jungkook—and it’s the same—but his hands reach out before he can think twice.

Jungkook grabs your wrist before you can leave, gulping to himself when you stare at him with wide eyes.

“You okay?” You ask softly.

No, he’s not, because his heart is beating so fast and he doesn’t want this day to come to an end.

“I-I’m okay.” He chokes, “I just—don’t you have a parting gift for me?” Jungkook blurts before he can rationalise what the fuck did he even mean.

But Jungkook just stares at you like a deer caught in the headlights while you tilt your head at him endearingly. He hopes that his pulse doesn’t emanate from his grasp, but your wrist is small, and it feels just right in his palm.

Your lips are twitching as a grin threatens itself on your expression, and he sees the mischief in your eyes that come out every once in a while.

“Aren’t you supposed to be giving me a gift, Jeon?” You tease, and Jungkook is so soft.

He snorts, a little glad that you didn’t point out his sudden grip on your wrist.

“But you’re leaving me.” He pouts.

You roll your eyes and take a step closer to him until you’re directly in front of him. And he sees your features up close and God—did he say you were pretty?—well because you’re even prettier up close and he loses all sense of thought when you’re smiling up at him with bright eyes.

“I’m always a call away.” You say softly, gently tugging at his hand; and it’s crazy to think that you were the same older girl that was usually timid reaching out to him in a way that was shy but so you.

Even with the chattering of other students, Jungkook only hears your subdued voice.

“It’s not the same.” Jungkook sighs, and he’s slightly aware that he was whining. But you don’t seem to be bothered.

“You’re probably going to forget about me.” You scoff and it’s light, but he can see the slight furrow of your brows. “You’re Jeon Jungkook. You’ll do great.” You add softly.

Jungkook purses his lips and wants to tell you that it wasn’t possible. You took up space in his life, both in school (well, not anymore) and in his mind. You and your wonderful mind.

“Says the valedictorian.” Jungkook huffs.

You pout, “You know that isn’t long-term. What if I just peak in high school and … you know …” You sigh, shaking your head, “I’m not outgoing like Jimin or a social butterfly like Taehyung. Neither am I as friendly and likeable like you are, Jungkook. I’m just … boring.”

Jungkook freezes because while he knew you were on the shier side; the louder than life tendencies you had were small but abundant. You didn’t need to speak louder than anyone in a room to get your points across, you were soft and empathetic and led people in organisations to see the good in the work they did.

Your genuine nature drew people in, even though you’d flush under attention and praise—and if Jungkook could—he’d scream it out to the world. But you were in front of him, and he figured that was enough.

“Don’t say that.” Jungkook snaps and his tone causes you to flinch as you stare at him with wide eyes, “Don’t … put yourself down like that. You’re great, _____. You’re intelligent and kind. Just because you’re different doesn’t mean you’re boring. There are situations in this world that need people like you. There are people that find comfort in a quiet soul because you’re introspective and thoughtful. People like …”

Jungkook exhales when you stare at him so earnestly, and his ears turn red. “People like me. We need people like you in our lives.”

Your mouth falls open as you blatantly stare at Jungkook with wide eyes; he’s on the border of being absolutely mortified and running away so he wouldn’t be the subject of your obvious ogling.

But then a soft smile makes its way onto your face, and you’re tugging Jungkook by the hand and into a warm hug.

Despite him being younger than you, he’s always been taller and bigger than you were. And it was a sense of security he felt in your presence rather than your physical entity that would never be replaced with anything else.

“You really grew up, huh?” You say, a giggle in your chest.

Jungkook rolls his eyes but accepts the way you rest your head on his chest. He’s never had you this close before, and he hates that it’s on the day he needs to say goodbye.

“I’ve always been this way.” Jungkook answers. He also thinks: I’ve always been here. For you.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You say softly, pulling away even though Jungkook wants to keep you close.

“Anytime.” He smiles widely at you, and a classmate of yours calls your name as you turn to give them a nod of acknowledgement before you’re turning back to Jungkook with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Here’s your gift.” You inform him.

“I was kidding—”

And before you can respond, you’re placing both hands on his shoulder and on your tippy-toes to deliver a kiss to his cheek.

Jungkook is stunned and he isn’t able to process it fast enough. But you’re already offering him an equally flustered smile with the tip of your ears turning red before you’re waving shyly and tittering off to the hall.

Jungkook blinks, and a hand reaches to touch his cheek.

He looks up, and groans—because how the hell was he going to survive high school now?