#edit - to add I came out and was happy at uni but moving back in w my parents I conformed to their perfect daughter. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thepencilnerd · 4 years

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– a budding romance | part 1 –

➵ After moving into a new apartment, Min Yoongi stumbles across a flower shop down the street who’s radiant bouquets and even brighter personality catches his eye. What happens when two completely different worlds collide?

➵ pairing: min yoongi x reader

➵ genre: fluff, angst, slow burn, strong friendship/family dynamic, strangers to lovers, barely a soulmate AU

➵ word count: 16.8k

➵ warnings: swearing, very heavy angst, alcohol consumption, discussions of mental health and past emotional trauma—if you are in need of help, please please seek out professional care. there is hope out there and people that are here to help you. you are not your illness and always remember that you are not alone.

➵ a/n: I finally decided to get back to writing since I was on spring break for a short period of time (and because staying home is cool :) this story was inspired by my newly developed passion for houseplants, of which I’ve amassed a collection of over 30 in the past few months and totally don’t have an addiction to... This chapter turned out to be a very filler-heavy introduction to the universe it takes place in; although there’s not much romance in this part, I’m very happy with how the friendship dynamic between our main/secondary characters and their backgrounds turned out, so I please forgive me ^^

I’ve missed you all so freaking much, and I cannot thank you enough for showering Melophile with so much love throughout the past year. Thank you for being patient with me during my hiatus, and I hope you and all of your loved ones are staying safe, healthy, and happy ❤️enjoy, and please stay tuned for part two ❤️

“Where do you want the shelf?” the mover asked while holding one end of the wooden bookcase.

The sleep looked up from his seat by the kitchen island and “Right by the window,” Yoongi directed, guiding him to the west-facing window that opened up to his balcony. “Thanks.”

Tipping each of the movers, he thanked them once and bid them goodbye, shutting the door. The whoosh of the door closing left him alone in his new apartment with nothing but hastily arranged furniture, the quiet murmur of traffic outside, and of course, his thoughts; he was finally moved in.

Yoongi had thought about moving out for years now, but never brought up the topic until Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were traveling out of the country more. By the time university had started, he and the guys had all agreed to move into a duplex a few minutes away from campus for time, money, and friendship’s sake. It was only a matter of time before the three boys were scouted off the street by the head of a modeling agency. Might he add that it was a late Friday night, post-finals season of senior year, and all the boys were more than inebriated, so how the man decided that giving contracts to three loud, wild, and utterly wasted uni students was astounding. Either way, the three stooges dropped out to pursue a career in modeling faster than you could say ‘show in Europe.’

After graduation, Namjoon brought up the idea of moving into a smaller building, to which Jimin and Hoseok disapproved of with arms crossed and pouty faces. Taehyung and Jungkook tried to come to an agreement and schedule what times of the year they’d be in town, but with their unpredictable schedules, it was a pointless compromise. Seokjin—the oldest of the seven—was expected to move out before any of them, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he eventually offered to share a place with Taehyung and Jungkook. They were still employed under the same agency and manager, so understandably, they would all share similar shows, shooting schedules, flights, and time spent in and out of town. It was also pretty close from here, so the seven would still be able to spend time together when they had the chance to.

Yoongi was the first to offer moving out so the four of them wouldn’t have to be crammed into a small condo. He had booked a few producing jobs here and there while still at university, so he practically had a contact list of full-time connections. Plus, Jimin had decided to enroll in a master’s program for traditional dance while teaching at a nearby dance studio, Namjoon started his first semester towards a postgraduate degree in literary criticism (again, how the boy had even passed his G.E. chemistry class in sophomore year was beyond anyone’s wildest imagination), and Hoseok had landed a solid job teaching hip-hop classes at the same studio Jimin was at.

“You’re sure you’re okay with it?” Jimin asked Yoongi with worry laced in his voice. The four were lounging in the living room of the quiet apartment. Seokjin and the two younger ones had moved out earlier that morning, and they were probably still getting settled. It was only a ten minute drive from Namjoon, Hoseok and Jimin’s new place. Thankfully they’d all be living a relative distance to one another even after moving.

Patting him on the head, Yoongi’s lips formed a small grin. “Don’t worry about me. At least I won’t have to deal with Hoseok’s late night gas bombs...”

Hoseok’s face burned bright red and his eyes grew wide as a storm of curse words flew out of his mouth. “Hey! Don’t blame me, tell Namjoon to learn how to cook raw food all the way through!"

To this, Namjoon threw his comforter at Hoseok, nailing him square in the face. Jimin held back his giggles while Yoongi stared wistfully. He would miss them more than he thought.

“It’s only a few minutes from your place so I’ll come and check up on you guys every once in a while,” Yoongi sighed, leaning into the couch. With everything packed and sent off the day before, it was the only piece of furniture left in the apartment. A distant memory resurfaced as his eyes drifted to the dented armrest. He and Jungkook had bought it at the thrift store on 5th Street after weeks of Seokjin complaining that there was no place to sit and watch TV; a past time he required to “relieve him of his grievances.”

Yoongi cleared his throat, redirecting his attention back to the present moment. “You know, just to make sure you haven’t all starved or strangled each other.”

The four shared one last month together and even helped Yoongi find his new place eight blocks down. According to Yoongi, the day Hoseok ran into Yoongi’s room with the crumpled piece of paper was a match made by hell and granted by heaven.

Snapping back into the present moment, Yoongi’s watch read 12:45 p.m. He rubbed his eyes at how dreadfully early in the day it was and his body was already begging for sleep. By the magic laws of the universe, the familiar sound of his ringtone reverberated through the barren apartment—his new apartment. Walking to the kitchen counter, Hoseok’s name flashed across the screen and Yoongi swiped to answer the call.

“How’s our big boy doing?” Hoseok immediately shouted through the receiver.

Yoongi scrunched his face in displeasure at the volume but couldn’t hide the slight smirk that grazed his lips. “I’m doing great mom, thanks for checking in.”

“We wanted to know if you needed any help settling in!” Jimin’s soft voice, as usual, offered with nothing but joy. Judging by the distant sound of complaining and forced laughter, he had taken the opportunity to snatch the phone away from Hoseok, and Namjoon was now holding him hostage with the force of tickling.

“I second that!” Namjoon’s voice boomed in the background.

Yoongi allowed himself the barest hint of a laugh. “I already had help from the movers, so the furniture is decently positioned already.” Opening up his fridge, he saw that it was unsurprisingly empty other than a few bottles of water. “I might need to run to the grocery store though. Can I call you guys after I get back?”

“Jimin, I swear to god you’re going to regret sharing a room with me!” Hoseok’s voice echoed closer from the other end.

“Call us when you get back! It’d be nice to get to know the shops around the neighborhood,” Namjoon backed up with confidence but he suddenly yelped in pain. Yoongi pictured Hoseok jabbing him in the side like he always did whenever they fought.

Hoseok huffed as he brought up the phone and was in possession of the device once again. “We’ll swing by your place at 6 with food, so don’t worry and buy some basic groceries. Namjoon, I swear—”

“—and make some neighborhood friends!” Namjoon blurted out. “We’ll see you soon!”

“See you soon!” Jimin added cheerfully.

“Miss you bud!” Hoseok chirped.

“Bye guys,” Yoongi chuckled. "Don’t kill each other.” Clicking off, he sighed once more before admiring his new place. The one-bedroom penthouse came with a decent sized-kitchen, in-unit washer and dryer, and included utilities. Not to mention the extra room that he had already moved his studio equipment into and man, that balcony view. It wasn’t considered budget-friendly for it’s square footage, but for the amenities and the part of town it was centered in? A steal.

Even though a job in the music industry didn’t exactly pay well, Yoongi considered himself lucky to have gotten the exposure he did so early. He had been bound to music for as long as he could remember, and it was during his middle school years that he discovered the editing software that changed his life. By junior year of high school, Yoongi had accumulated hundreds of thousands of followers and millions of listens on his streaming account. After he declared his major in university, renowned musicians from all over the world were flooding his email with requests for new songs, collaborations, editing, and everything in between.

As fame and status quickly began consuming his every waking thought, a dark cloud loomed over him. There had been a period of time when sitting in his studio was no longer enjoyable and felt like pure hell. Slowly but surely, it was the same cycle over and over again: get a request from a record label, make a new song, send it back to the tone-deaf money hungry CEO’s of the music industry, and then get feedback on how it’s not catchy enough or "up with the times.” God, that pissed him off more than anything. Good music shouldn’t have to be labeled as such because it fits into the typical mold of some teenage trend; that’s what makes it good.

That’s all they cared about these days. No meaningful lyrics or real talk about everyday life and how the world goes around—only songs about meaningless sex, regretting one night stands, repetitive ear worm tunes, unrequited and dumb young love, or things that talentless, plastic Instagram models could lip-sync and stick choreography to. It’s hard to pursue your passion in a field that you love when it’s hellbent on destroying itself.

Don’t even start with the controversies Yoongi dealt with on a daily basis. Flashy yellow headlines that talked about who this mysterious producer Min Yoongi was, where he was brought up, who he’s dated/is dating, his sexuality, and even his family members and their backgrounds. All of these were topics that every single news and social media outlet had the audacity to stamp on hundreds of magazines covers and copy/paste on their blogs, yet if given the chance, none would have the real guts to ask him in-person, face to face.

Yoongi found himself falling into periods of constant downward spirals. What would he become if he gave in? Who would he be if just shut up and took the money? If he listened to what everyone had to say and gave them everything they wanted? Would they love him any less or hate him even more?

It was half past one when he realized that he still had to go to run errands. Another 30 minutes of the day spent lingering on things that can’t be changed and don’t matter, he noted to himself. Wonderful.

Despite the chilly weather, Yoongi opted to throw on a hoodie and call it a day. His decision to wear ripped jeans was poorly made, but he refused to admit that laziness was the culprit for not packing some spare clothes into a suitcase before moving day. Before stepping out, he quickly slipped on a beanie and a face mask for privacy’s sake. He was really not in the mood today.

Murmuring a quick thanks to the cashier, Yoongi walked out of the grocery store as fast as he could. Within minutes, people had gathered in a crowd around him asking for pictures, autographs, voice memos, and the works.

Every single time he had to turn down someone’s request for a picture because he could not miss the last bus; constantly hiding in fear of someone catching him and finding out where he lives, or worse: his family members; always trying to leave the house at the most awkward time of day so he could actually walk around and get basic shit done. No one knew it, but he hated himself for feeling like the biggest asshole that ever existed when in reality, he was just trying to live a normal life.

Yoongi loved music, but more than anything, he loved how there were people who truly empathized with his songs and the effort he put into making them. He missed the days before fanbase culture mobbed those who genuinely understood what he was trying to say. He missed going out with the guys and not having to worry about strangers following him home and leaking his address for publicity and likes. He missed having the decency of basic privacy and boundaries. Yoongi was grateful for everyone’s unnecessary unconditional love for his work and lifelong devotion to music, but after all, he was nothing but a human being who needed some space to breathe.

Today was no different. He got lucky and managed to snag enough fruits and vegetables to fit into a single paper bag before the overwhelming screeches and overlapping voices forced him out of the mart.

One of the security guards and a few cashiers were kind enough to hold back a few of the people who tried following him out. Giving them a quick bow before scurrying out, he felt like an even bigger nuisance.

What kind of a prick like me disrupts people’s day-to-day life just to get some food...

Should’ve worn a damn ski mask.

Yoongi was two blocks from his apartment complex when the smell of smog and car exhaust was replaced by a tidal wave of—roses? The fragrance of fresh flowers flooded his nostrils with a vibrancy and sweetness that he had never smelled before. Trying to find the source, he stumbled across what appeared to be hole-in-the-wall flower shop.

Treading carefully towards the vivid assortment of colors and warm light, he glanced over at the array of plants that graced the outside shelves. It wasn’t until he started feeling hot that he noticed a patio heater beside the entrance, which doubled as a lamp.

As he admired the wide variety of colors, leaf shapes, and aromas, Yoongi picked up a weathered terra cotta pot. The gritty surface of the pot was splotched with discolored patches of white, probably from water and rain. It housed a plant with small, plump, ovular, dimpled emerald green leaves, and it was vining up the bamboo stick that was staked in the center.

A delicate shuffle of shoes on hardwood accompanied a soft voice. “Need help finding something?”

Looking up, Yoongi’s eyes met the young woman’s gaze. Even through his mask, her friendly smile seemed to glow brighter than the embers from the patio heater. Underneath her apron, she was wearing a fluffy white sweater and a pair of comfortably loose jeans that were decorated with colorful paint-splatters.

Blinking hard after catching himself staring too long, Yoongi shook his head and put the plant back. “Just looking around. Nice place you got here.” If he spoke any quieter, he’d have a new job singing lullabies to babies.

Knitting her eyebrows with an inquisitive stare, he felt his pulse start to pick up. Did she recognize him? Was she going to freak out? Was there something on his face?

She brought her finger up to her quirked lip and widened her eyes. “Botanophobia is my area of specialty!” she exclaimed with joy. “You don’t have to worry about killing a single plant under my wing.” Picking up the plant he set down, she held it out towards him with a warm grin.

Yoongi won’t be the first to admit that of his absent green thumb. When he used to visit his grandmother, she’d always tug on his ear for picking at the hanging pots draped underneath her patio. He didn’t even have a plant near his vicinity until Taehyung brought home individual cactus for each of the guys. Something about keeping it on their desks for focus and oxygen or whatever.

Needless to say that Namjoon and Yoongi both learned very quickly that cacti don’t like water as much as you think.

“Oh,” Yoongi waved his hands in defense. “ I’m not really a plant collecting type of guy.”

The girl rolled her eyes teasingly and handed him a ball of twine from her pocket.

“Stay here until I get back,” she commanded with a stern look and playful confidence. “I’ll be but a moment.” Retreating back into the shop, Yoongi was frozen in place. Guilty if he leaves, not guilty if he stays—

Right as he was about to put the twine on the shelf, the girl came out of the shop with a paper-wrapped package. “Water it once a month and keep it by a window, preferably brightly lit but not necessarily,” she instructed with nothing less than an energetic smile. “They kind of thrive on neglect.”

He was taken aback. “But—”

She held her hand up to halt his rebuttal and took back the twine. “Think of this as a little welcome to the neighborhood gift. I know all of my locals by heart and I’ve never seen you around before.”

“I can’t just take a plant from you,” Yoongi huffed, slightly annoyed at her stubborn nature. She was determined, he’d give her that.

Shaking her head, her hands didn’t move. “You can pay me back the next time you visit, and if you still haven’t fallen in love with this guy—” her head motioned to the paper-wrapped plant in her hands. “—then I guess I’ll just have to work harder.”

Yoongi bowed his head in thanks and accepted the parcel with a tightly pressed smile. She was definitely not one to give in. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that there were still people in the world who loved their jobs as much as this woman.

The dimming sky signaled that it was time for him to get back home. Waving goodbye, the sound of his steps grew louder as the echo of her voice faded farther away. “See you around!”

Sure, the pessimist in him spat.

You awoke to the gentle sound of rain pattering against your window. Drops bounced off of the glass as the sound grew harsher, the water droplets ricocheting off of the already-streaky pane and onto the surrounding leaves of the tree whose branches caressed your small windowsill. The freezing cold air whistled through the crack between your window pane and the latch, causing you to shiver reflexively.

Stretching out your limbs, a large and clearly gracious yawn left your mouth, which harmonized in tandem with your outstretched palms and scrunched face. The warmth of your rumpled and disheveled sheets made you groan, your body naturally refusing to leave the comfort of your own bed. Did you really have to go out today? Using the rusty spring of the mattress to swing your legs over the bed, your feet grazed the cold, damp fabric of your carpet—

“Crap.” Partially awake, your aching limbs dashed across your small studio apartment and rummaged through the pile of rubbish in the spare closet, fishing out an old bucket. You ran back to your room and placed on top of the wet patch of fabric just underneath the foot of your bed. The sound of water hitting the carpet soon turned into muffled pangs. The culprit? A leaky spot in the ceiling of your humble abode that you had so graciously discovered months after you’d moved in.

Your landlord/makeshift, of course, said he couldn’t do anything about it. Something told you it wasn’t that he couldn’t, but rather, he couldn’t be bothered to...

The pleasantly dull morning heaviness that weighed your body slowly retreated, and left you fully aware that your feet were still wet and freezing cold. Very, very cold. It was Monday, right? A sigh escaped you as your hand came up to rub your eyes. Definitely a Monday. Stretching once more, you sat silently and found a moment of peace in gazing at the pouring rain that battered your window.

There was something oddly relaxing about watching the water droplets slowly slide down the glass. Whether it was the transparency of the glass against the clarity of the rainwater, or the different textures of sound as the droplets bounced off of the window onto the tree leaves, one thing was certain: overcast skies and the fresh smell petrichor was one of nature’s many great gifts.

Since the day was still immersed in the early hours of the morning, you were compelled to stay inside and burn through a book or two while in the comfort of your own bed. However, your fairytale fantasy was shattered by the reality that was your day job. You washed up, got dressed, and didn’t bother adding any extra layers to combat the cold. It was, of course, the sensation of the icy biting air against your flushed cheeks that made you treasure this kind of weather all the more. The haphazard toss a mini-umbrella into your bag and the clink of a lock and key was quite complimentary.

Ever since you were young, you’d loved flowers. Red roses, to be exact. It was in your best interest as a 6-year old to tag alongside your dad on his trips to the hardware store. Each time you came home, you ended up bringing a 99-cent fern home that ended up dying a week later. No matter how much your little heart adored each tiny gem, it was only a matter of time before you drowned the plant with too much water. In your pre-pubescent mind, taking care of a plant meant watering it. Every day. Little did you know that tending to a garden meant leaving it alone and giving it time to grow by itself.

Hundreds of plant funerals were held from the tender ages of six to fourteen. Years of experience, tears, frustration, determination, and love ended up raising your brown thumb well. Who knew that you’d end up majoring in biology and horticultural studies? Not to mention starting up an independent business as a flower shop and nursery. Now that was something to be grateful for.

It might seem strange to many; working a job that doesn’t pay a ton or have a stable workload, sitting in a humid shop some days with nothing but the rustling of dried bouquets to keep you company, or learning to appreciate the quiet solitude of white noise against morning traffic. It may have seemed like torture for anyone with some ounce of sanity, but to you, it was home.

Nothing excited you more than when you received the bi-weekly shipment of new plants. You were lucky the rain had stopped by the time you made it halfway to the shop. Marco, your go-to greenhouse guy, was just in time. He was wearing a blue sweater and the navy scarf his wife, Lucia, knitted him for Christmas four years ago.

You’ll never forget the gifts they exchanged that year. It was two days before Christmas and Marco was so busy with deliveries, he didn’t have time to get Lucia a present. Of course, seeing him ramble his worries to you while bringing in the day’s shipment made a lightbulb go off in your head.

As he was unloading boxes, you ran inside and whipped up a somewhat-simple but ever-classic arrangement: red tulips, white honeysuckles, baby’s-breath stems, and a mix of myrtle and lemon leaves to balance out the flower to foliage ratio.

Before Marco could leave, you put the finishing touches on the lush bouquet and finished it off with a gold-dusted bow for added holiday spirit.

“All done!” Marco bellowed. Running out of the shop, you handed him the box that sheltered Lucia’s gift.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered with a giddiness that couldn’t be held back.

“Oh, bella...” His reaction was priceless. With a mouth parted, sparkling eyes, and a wonder-struck smile to top it all off, this was why you loved your job.

“Red tulips for a perfect love, honeysuckles for devoted lovers, and baby’s breath for everlasting love.” The words rolled off of your tongue like a second language.

Marco was still speechless. “You shouldn’t have—”

“Marco, my business would not function without you and neither would I,” you hushed. “This is the absolute least I could do for you and Lucia.”

“Bella!” His deep voice brought you back to the present day. The nickname always made you feel fuzzy. “How are you?”

“I’m doing wonderful, Marco.” Your eyes beamed. “How are Lucia and the girls?”

He laughed, shaking his head with a grin. “As wild as always. Fia and Gianna just started 2nd grade a few days ago. They’re growing up too fast.”

Your heart melted. “It’s always like that, isn’t it? Time flies...” The wistful tone in your voice didn’t go unnoticed. “Anyway, what’s in today’s box of treasures?” Rubbing your hands together like an animated cartoon, your eyes lit up at the sight of all the new varieties that peeked from the boxes.

“Oh you’ll love these!” Pulling out one of the 4-inch grow pots from the boxes, he revealed to you a healthy Hoya bella. The delicately draped stems with spear-shaped leaves and grooved foliage was breathtaking. A few of them even had a few peduncles, which was where flowers bloomed from. Hoyas were known for their delicate, candy-like flowers, and Hoya bella was a prolific bloomer.

If you had to choose a favorite type of tropical genus, it’d most definitely be the wax plant family. There are hundreds of species within that range from your typical waxy, thick and succulent leaves to thin, hair-like sparse leaves that looked like grass. Expensive grass, might you add.

You couldn’t hold back the excitement. “You brought me hoyas!” Jumping up and down with an overzealous amount of energy, Marco bowed for dramatic effect. Today was already off to a great start.

He counted all the boxes one more time, summing up the numbers in his head. “There are also some krinkle 8′s, compactas, variegated and green carnosas, more bellas, australis, curtisii, pubicalyx, burtoniae, lacunosa, and only a couple linearis. You know how popular those are these days.” Each time he listed off another set of species had you spinning. “The bottom boxes have some pothos, rubber trees, ferns, tradescantias, and peperomias.”

“Thank you thank you thank you,” you exclaimed while giving him a big hug. “Don’t count me guilty if I run home with a few of these.”

A hearty laugh reverberated from his chest. “Always a pleasure, bella. I have to get going. Watch the rain! I’ll see you next week!”

Bidding him a goodbye, you reminded him to drive safe before he was off.

The first customer of the day was a regular; you could spot her bright red lipstick and pinup elegance from a mile away. If she hadn’t said anything, you could have sworn she was related to Marilyn Monroe.

“Good morning, Ms. Simmons!” you greeted as the chime on the door jingled. “How are you?”

Her bright red lips curled into a grin that revealed her immaculate smile. “I’m doing very well, thank you dearie.” Did you mention that she had an Irish accent?

Stepping out from behind the counter, you pulled out the freshly wrapped parcel and unfolded the top to show her. Cupping your hand to speak, the words came out in a whisper. “I got the new shipment of linearis.”

At this, her eyes grew bigger and mouth rounded into an O. She’d been waiting for these grass-leaved hoyas for months now and you had made a promise to her that she was the first on the waitlist.

“You are an absolute jewel my love, an unreal star!” Handing you her usual payment method of cash, you made sure to choose the fullest plant for her before she arrived. Also, you may have added in a begonia and African violet or two. All in the name of agape love, truly.

Even though she celebrated her 70th birthday over the winter, Ms. Simmons was a regular ever since you opened the shop. She always made the two mile walk from her home to your shop every Monday and you couldn’t understand for the life of you why. All you could do was be the best at your job and treat your customers as well, if anything, better than they treated you.

“I’ll see you next week, Ms. Simmons,” you smiled, holding the door open for her as she went on her merry way.

The rest of the day was business as usual. Mary, another regular, came in looking for a rubber tree and a peace lily; she’d just moved into a bigger house to accompany their newest family member, and needed some green so the place didn’t look so sterile.

Isaac, the pastor who worked at the local church, was in need of some rose arrangements for this weekend’s sermon. He always loved how full the ones you had out on display were.

Kat was an old university friend you had stayed in touch with and a fellow “hoya head.” She was the sweetest girl and always brought you coffee and a perfectly toasted bagel whenever she visited. The doorbell always chimed at exactly 12:25 p.m. and she never missed it once ever since you opened the shop’s doors.

“You got a perm?!” you gawked. She’d gotten another haircut. Her once long, pin-straight dark brown hair was now shoulder length and curled like Shirley Temple’s signature look. “You look a-freaking-mazing!”

Tussling the curls with one hand while pushing up the bridge of her cat-eye glasses with the other, she reminded you of a revamped 70’s Betty Boop. “Thank you darling, I’ve been meaning to chop it all off for a while now but the weather has had me down in the dumps,” she remarked in an over the top, received pronunciation accent.

Shaking your head and appreciating her choice of clothing, you couldn’t help but applaud at how she always chose fashion and style over basic comfort.

"We got some bellas and compactas so grab ‘em and go before you get a cold.” Her red dress and black cardigan ensemble was an eye-catcher but did not bode well considering the cloudy sky.

She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Yes mom, I’ll take those two and a krinkle, if you please.” You will admit, her energy was something you never got tired of.

The wrapping of planters had become muscle-memory now. Wrap around, fold over, crease the edge, tuck in the sides, and tie with some twine. A snip here and brushing off the excess soil there and voila.

Before she left, you handed her the umbrella you brought from home. “Get home before it starts raining!” you nagged. “I only live a few minutes from here so just take it before you ruin your clothes.” Kat definitely needed it more than you.

She wrapped her arms around you in a familiar hug and promised she’d call you back at home. “Love you!” Perfect timing, too. Right as the door shut, the slow patter of rain had started sprinkling the rooftop, and cars started whooshing by with an added splash.

Cradling your warm cup of coffee was a routine on Kat’s visiting days. The rain was now trickling down the ridged shingles of the roof and down the gutter, droplets of water blurring into coiled trails. Absolutely mesmerizing. After making a dozen bouquets that were on today’s order list, Sara, Louie, Timmy, Kyle, and George visited one by one to pick them up. Soon after that, the day started slowing down and the rain showed no signs of stopping like you had anticipated. It was nearing closing time too, so maybe it was a good idea to head home a bit early.

You rushed to bring in the buckets of pre-cut flowers and ready-made arrangements from outside. You ended up wrapping everything up right on time. Even better, a few new faces showed up. All of your linearis and bellas had sold out today (no surprise), and you got to meet some new customers right before closing time. It was nothing but a joyous and success-filled day in your eyes.

Gripping the cold metal, goosebumps prickled your skin as soon as your fingertips rolled down the gate over the store windows. A smile of triumph grazed your lips. The quietest of goodbyes escaped your lips.

Until tomorrow.

The buzz of alcohol and smell of grease wafted in the air as they all got crazier by the minute.

Namjoon had already burned through three bottles of beer and was on the verge of losing his sense of direction. Hoseok was two sips in before his face flushed a bright red. Jimin was prancing around like a fairy after his third shot of tequila. Taehyung and Jungkook were singing and dancing to bad karaoke songs, nearly knocking over the TV a few times.

Seokjin was the only one who was mildly sober. Again, mildly is a word that should be used very lightly. "Since when did you have a green finger?”

The five paused their shenanigans to glance over at the single plant that decorated the otherwise empty bookshelf.

Yoongi chewed silently, unable to come up with any response.

Jimin hiccuped before talking. “Didn’t you kill a cactus a few years back?”

Again, Yoongi chose to stay silent and give an unbothered shrug. Hoseok’s face still looked like he was contemplating the meaning of life, but he managed to nod his head in confirmation.

“Yeah, Namjoon drowned his, too,” the youngest spoke with a ditzy tone. Taehyung giggled like a child at Jungkook’s strangely accurate description and pointed at Namjoon. Some comment about his messy hair or turtle glasses, or a combination of both.

“I’m old enough to take care of myself so I should be able to take care of some stupid weed.” For some reason, Yoongi’s mouth burned saying those words.

Namjoon rolled his eyes at the comment and got up to grab some water. Of course, his drunk state amplified his clumsiness and caused him to bang his knee against the corner of the kitchen island. Hoseok and Jimin burst out into cackles and snorted as Yoongi rolled his eyes. The alcohol was beginning to pass like water. He should slow down.

“Apparently that one thrives on neglect.” Yoongi finally broke his vow of silence, changing the topic and directing his attention to Jimin and half-there Hoseok. “How’s teaching going?”

Leaning on each other as the alcohol sleeps finally kicked in, they could only raise their thumbs-up with half-lidded eyes.

Coming back with a tray of water cups that remained miraculously intact, Namjoon collapsed down into his seat. “They’ve been working every single day for the past month now. Jimin has his mid-semester show coming up and Hoseok got booked for some choreography with a local theater group.”

Yoongi downed one last mouthful of the bitter drink before calling it quits, enjoying how it burned his throat as it made its way down. “And you guys?”

Seokjin and Jungkook all murmured something about an upcoming shoot in May for the spring catalog.

“Jungkook and Seokjin got booked for a perfume ad and I got an acting gig,” Taehyung explained. The excitement was evident in his voice. Yoongi congratulated the three, cheering them on with another shot.

He turned to the boy rubbing his bruised knee. “And you, Joon?”

It was Namjoon’s turn to shrug. “School is school. Always studying, reading, writing, nothing new,” he droned in a monotonous voice. “How’ve you been handling everything?”

He was talking about all the new deals that Yoongi was offered in the last couple of weeks. Every post on social media was rampant with news of Min Yoongi’s latest tracks and upcoming collabs. Although the boys would never fully understand his stress, their sympathy for him was plenty enough.

“Same old same old. Money hungry bastards trying to get my advice on shitty tracks that have as much depth and complexity as a poptart just to get my signature stamped on it.” Yoongi spoke with painful honesty, causing everyone to sober up and focus on him. He took a final swig of his drink. “Whatever sells, I guess.”

Namjoon and the others shook their heads in agreement solemnly, showing his wordless support and understanding. “You’ll get out of it, Yoongi. Trust me.” He patted his friend’s shoulder in vain, but only Yoongi knew it.

Trying to swallow the words, Yoongi looked over at the snoring bundle that was Jimin, Hoseok, Jungkook, and Taehyung. Seokjin was probably passed out in the bathroom. His upper teeth raked across his lower lip, savoring the dull sensation that felt more real than the situation he had gotten himself into.

“Yeah. I’ll get out of it.”

Spring was always the best time of the year. All of the flowers were in bloom and sunlight was streaming through everyone’s window without being unbearably hot. To top it all off, it was also the busiest time for you and your business. The shop was always flooded with customers marveling at the colors that decorated the exterior. When the inside of the shop finally cleared out, you were able to take requests for individual bouquets, parties, and weddings.

“Need some help?” a familiar someone shouted through the crowd of people.

Your head snapped over to the upbeat and bubbly voice you knew by heart. “Kat!” Hugging her over the counter and bringing her behind the register, you quickly thanked her before running around frantically with a notepad in hand.

This became a routine about two springs after you opened up: people piling in by the masses for a chance at bringing home the freshest roses, tulips, and succulents you had to offer, Kat making her weekly visit and seeing you overwhelmed, weaving her way through the horde of people crammed inside the shop and lined up outside, and finally putting on an apron of her own and managing the register while you paced back and forth getting people’s orders.

“What would I do without you?” you mouthed to her as you formed your face into a meme-worthy cry face.

She stuck her tongue out and managed the register like a pro, fingers pressing buttons left and right at lighting speed. You giggled and went back to jotting down everyone’s orders.

1x assmt/ peace lilies; red and white in ceram. pot

2x 4-inch maiden hair ferns delivered

1 bqt/dozen red roses w/ filler foliage

1 bqt/dozen red roses w/o filler foliage

1x dozen individually wrapped W roses with gld. ribbons

R, W, PRP, PNK tulips w/ queen anne’s lace

Succ. terr. for bday, round jar, colorful

Over the course of one day, you used up three ballpoint pens and couldn’t feel your fingers or your cheeks. Writing and smiling at the same time should be an official sport for next year’s Olympics. Kat fared no better. Slung over the register like a floppy piece of bacon, the only indication of any remaining energy from either of you was the heavy sound of breathing.

Stretching out your hands, you set down the notepad and groaned. “Kat?” Checking to make sure she was alive, she groaned back in response. “Thank you.”

She looked up and rested her cheek against the gold glass of the counter. “Welcome,” she mumbled, flashing her signature smile. It was a quarter past seven but you usually closed the shop by five, so why were you and Kat still here? After the commotion of today, both of you were too exhausted to close up, so you just brought whatever flowers from outside remained and ordered some takeout to eat here.

Standing up, your body needed to step outside and get some fresh air. Kat was knocked out comfortably on the counter, so you decided to leave her alone to nap in peace. The first step you took outside made your body tingle. You were constantly running back and forth earlier, but being out of breath and in a mental flux with all the orders made you feel like you were floating.

You inhaled the cold air as deeply as you could and breathed out with an equal amount of force. The sky was tinted a coral pink color and the sun was barely kissing the horizon. Thank you spring for yet another marvelous attribute that only you can provide.

Right before you were about to step back inside, a familiar masked figure entered your field of vision. “Hey!” Calling out through cupped hands, you prayed he could hear you over the few cars that were driving by. His head perked up and even behind his covered face, you could see that he was surprised. Ducking his head in a makeshift greeting, you waved him hello and goodbye, happy to see his masked face again. No point in calling him over this late at night. He probably had things to do. Didn’t we all?

Jungkook and Taehyung were the first ones to point it out.

“Yoongi...” Hoseok uttered.

“How could you?” Seokjin continued, mouth agape in pure disbelief.

Namjoon shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve done this. ‘Responsible adult’ my ass.”

“You’ve had it for two weeks and it’s already dying!” Jimin was the one who finally blurted it out.

Yoongi rubbed his sore eyes. It was 11 in the morning and he was exhausted from staying up all night. The deadline for his upcoming track was this Friday and contrary to popular belief, making a horribly repetitive and catchy song was a lot harder than you’d think. The guys managed to find some time in their schedules to come visit him. He never thought the day would come where he wanted them to stay home.

“It’s fine,” he grunted.

“When was the last time you watered it?” Hoseok asked, inspecting the sick looking plant. He was making that weird face. The one where his nose wrinkled at an invisible stench and eyes narrowed into slits.

“Don’t know,” Yoongi shrugged while chugging a few mouthfuls of water and relished the feeling of cool liquid coating his parched throat.

They all surveyed the state of the place. There were crumpled scraps of paper that littered the hardwood floor like confetti. Empty water bottles were spread across the bathroom, music studio, kitchen counter, and balcony shelf—and who could forget the pile of worn hoodies and shirts that were nestled in the sofa corner and had slowly been growing bigger, congregating to form a laundry mountain.

Namjoon was the one to point out that the fridge was still pretty much empty. “Did you even go grocery shopping, Yoongi?” He spoke with the tone of concern now. If anyone knew how persistent Yoongi was, it was Namjoon. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s skipped meals and sleep just to work on a song.

“Yoongi, we can go out for you if you need us to,” Jimin offered as usual. Hoseok and Namjoon voted in support of his idea, already mouthing a list to Taehyung and Jungkook.

“We’ll go to the supermar—” Jungkook was cut off by Yoongi’s sudden spike of anger.

“I’m fine,” Yoongi replied a bit too harshly. He could only hold in pent up frustration for so long before he burst. “I don’t need you to go grocery shopping for me. I don’t need your help. I appreciate it, I really do, but it’s not your job to bear my burden of being a nuisance.”

They stayed quiet. The ball was already rolling and he needed to get it all out.

“You think I don’t want to go out? To step outside for one day and have nobody recognize me?” Yoongi scoffed, voice dripping with venom and sarcasm. “I want—” he paused. “No, no. I crave that more than anything. The anonymity I had in high school when I was a nobody and only had you guys by my side.

“Back when I didn’t have to bury myself underneath hoodies and beanies, suffocate myself underneath scarves and face masks, or wear sunglasses when it wasn’t the slightest bit sunny out.” Yoongi held back a scream and ran his hands through his hair in anger, tugging at the strands so he could feel tense pain nip at his scalp; he needed to feel anything other than this—this thing inside of him. Realizing that he had directed his vexes toward the wrong people, he sighed. Yoongi buried his face into his hands, disappointed at himself for doing it again.

Sinking into the ground, he couldn’t find it in himself to shed a single tear. In a fit of blind rage, he had just yelled at his childhood friends for absolutely no reason. Guilt was starting to eat away at his conscience; he’d fucked up—bad. What the hell was wrong with him?

The six kneeled down beside Yoongi and enveloped him in a silent hug. The boys had formed their group of seven in middle school and were forever bound by their loyalty to one another. Pushing past the temper tantrums of adolescence and living through the toils of university was all accomplished by the means of what connected them as a whole: friendship. Friends were there for each other through thick and thin, and they knew that none of them were free from the confines of daily life; friends were family

Yoongi pressed the palms of his hands harder into his eye sockets and blinked back the ache that was diffusing across his muscles.

I’ll get out of it.

It was an unusually cloudy day for spring. The grey clouds that were spread out across the sky didn’t seem to bode well for the day ahead. Today went by slower than usual. Granted it was a Sunday, but still—it was an off day.

You were in the middle of pruning the plants that were set up outside the shop when a hand tapped your shoulder. Turning around, you were greeted by a doe-eyed young man and his equally handsome friend. You had never seen them around before and they were each carrying two insulated grocery bags by their sides.

“Good afternoon.” The latter greeted you with an immaculate smile, bowing slightly. His friend mirrored the greeting, also presenting himself with his own charming grin.

Starstruck for a moment, you blinked a few times before gulping nervously. “Pleasure.” You mentally face-palmed your brain. Great job.

The big-eyed one spoke with a certain shyness you couldn’t put your finger on. “We were looking for some advice on plants. For a friend.” Chuckling, he scratched the back of his ear. It was only after a few moments to process their appearances did you realize that they were both attractive enough to be models, or something of the sort. Maybe your eyes were tricking you, but you felt like you’d seen them on last month’s fashion catalogue...

“I’m Jungkook by the way.” Shaking his hand, you couldn’t help but be aware of the pink that crept up your face. You tried to hide it with a nervous smile.

Act professional, you mentally scolded. “______,” you introduced yourself.

The other apologized for his manners and shook your hand as well. Your small fingers paled in comparison to his. “Taehyung. Nice to meet you.” His blinding smile made you blush furiously and you were dying inside.

“So uh—our friend, he has a plant like this one,” Taehyung continued, stopping to point to the tray of green carnosas beside his knee. “—and it’s starting to turn brown?”

“Hmm...” you frowned. "Does your friend always have the air conditioner or heater running? Something that might cause the air to dry out?”

The two stared at each other at a loss for words. “Not really, he always complains that the weather is too hot to turn on the heater yet too cold for the AC,” Jungkook elaborated.

“Oh!” He gasped as if a mind-blowing thought had struck him. “There’s a humidifier by his couch. Remember? He always used to complain about nosebleeds when we lived by uni.” Jungkook shook his head up and down like a cartoon, probably recalling this as well.

You were stumped. “You’re sure they’re brown leaves, right? Not yellow?”

They nodded. Damn. Yellowing leaves almost always indicated over watering or under fertilizing. Browning edges and tips usually meant that the plant needed more humidity, but full blown brown leaves?

Sighing in defeat, you packaged a small packet of water-soluble fertilizer with instructions and handed it to doe-eyed . “Try this and see if it helps,” you instructed, praying it would. Hoyas were known as bullet-proof plants, so why a carnosa of all species was starting to decline was alarming.

They thanked you for your help and asked you a few more questions before leaving.

“By the way,” Taehyung asked. “Do you do arrangements for large-scale productions? Like photoshoots?”

You said yes with a gentle smile. “Occasionally I will, but being such a small shop, I try to limit it to only during the springtime. It’s harder to fill out orders for big events when there aren’t that many materials to work with.”

Jungkook’s eyes got bigger than you thought to be possible and beamed, still running his hands through his hair shyly. “Would you be interested in helping us out?”

Raising your eyebrow at their request, you were curious. “What exactly would I be helping with?”

Taehyung started stuttering, his turn to be shy. “We actually have a spring photoshoot coming up for our modeling gig, and we thought it’d be cool to have an actual set full of flowers. Not just a big, white room with oversaturated fluorescents.”

“So you are models?” You felt like Sherlock Holmes had cracked the case.

This time, they were the ones who turned tomato red and cleared their throats, scratching their heads nervously. Humble folks.

“Don’t fret, your secret is safe with me,” you comforted. “What kind of theme are you trying to go for?”

You conversed for the next half twenty minutes about their ideas for the shoot and a little bit about their backgrounds, and you managed to exchange numbers. It turns out they were quite the dynamic duo.

If you hadn’t reminded them that they had groceries that needed to be taken home, you could have easily talked to them for another couple of hours. They were the welcoming social butterflies, not the typical annoying ones that felt the compulsive need to blabber on about nothing.

After saving their contacts into your phone, Taehyung and Jungkook thanked you once more for your time and said they’d see you around.

What an interesting day it turned out to be indeed...

“We come bearing gifts!” Taehyung announced grandly in his signature deep voice. Setting down the bags, the six got to work organizing the food stash. Jungkook, Taehyung and Seokjin were fortunate enough to be in town for a while before their next shoot, and Jimin, Namjoon, and Hoseok were on spring break. Basically, all of them had been camping in Yoongi’s living room for the past few weeks, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Jungkook and Taehyung had bought enough food to last all of them for a month had they still lived under a single roof. Jimin got to work on washing and slicing up the vegetables, Seokjin was dividing up the cuts of beef, and Hoseok was boiling some water and sauce for the pasta. Meanwhile, Taehyung was busy figuring out how to set the temperature dial on the oven and Jungkook was scolding him every few seconds for not letting him do it.

Namjoon was keeping a keen eye on the water to make sure it was boiling.

“Do you think he’s still sleeping?” Sat on the bar counter of the kitchen, he propped up his chin while resting his elbow on the table.

“I hope so,” Hoseok sighed. “But you know he never sleeps even at the best of times.”

Jimin shook his head. “He was snoring a little earlier, but he might just be swaddled underneath the covers,” he added, the satisfying crunch of the vegetables timed perfectly with his words.

“He’ll be okay, right?” Jungkook asked with worry evident in his voice.

“He’ll talk about it when he’s ready to, but until then, it’s not our place to pry.” Seokjin was the class clown of the group, but every so often he let the wise part of his brain come out. “Let’s cook up a feast, pop open some bottles, and have a good time just like the old days.”

“The water is boiling!” Namjoon shouted, a bit too loud for Hoseok’s taste. He jumped at the sudden spike in pitch like a cat. Bursting into a fit of laughter, Hoseok whacked Joon on the forehead with the wooden spoon, making him howl. A spitting image of siblings fighting on Thanksgiving.

In the other room, Yoongi let out a deep sigh from beneath the jumbled mess of covers. The smell emanating from the kitchen made his mouth water and fooled him into thinking he was still dreaming.

Sitting up slowly so the blood wouldn’t rush too quickly to his head, he stared outside at the glimmering lights of the city that lit up the dark sky. Across the street, he could barely make out the flashing shadows of people’s TV screens behind their blinds and the monotonous, undecorated, cement balconies. For the most part, the sight was nothing extraordinary.

If he shut his eyes and listened closely, he could hear the faint hum of sirens; feel the quiet murmur of the heartbeat that lived and breathe in the city. If he silenced his mind entirely, he could smell the wet cement through the crack of his open window, still damp from the rain that poured hours earlier.

His footsteps were light as he made his way to the kitchen, but not before sneaking a glance at his friends from the hallway. Hiding behind the doorway, Yoongi listened to their voices; somehow even throughout puberty, he could still tell exactly who’s voice belonged to who just by the energy their words radiated.

“You told me to tell you when the water was boiling!” Namjoon defended with a whine, still rubbing his forehead from where Hoseok struck him with the spoon. He swore it was turning red.“I told you the water was boiling!”

Jungkook hung his head down to hide his wide-toothed grin. He was trying his hardest to hold back the snort that threatened to escape. “I think Hoseok meant to let him know with some bit of sanity, not intentionally scare him.”

“Either way, Hoseok definitely knew the water was boiling,” Taehyung chuckled with his mouth half-full. He always liked sneaking bits of food whenever they cooked something.

“Stop eating all the carrots, Taehyung!” Jimin yelled for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I hope your nose turns orange.”

His hand stopped midway, the carrot a mere centimeters away from his mouth which was still open. “Can—can that actually happen?” he sputtered.

Yoongi could picture Jimin’s smirk down to the last dimple. “I don’t know Taehyung, ever wonder why some babies turn orange?

“It only happens if you only eat carrots for a long time, like a carrot juice detox or something.” As usual, Seokjin was the voice of logic and mild reason in Yoongi’s absence.

Taehyung pinched Jimin’s cheek as revenge, popping the carrot into his mouth.

“I don’t know Taehyung,” Hoseok warned, sucking air in between his teeth for added effect. “Now that you mention it, your nose is starting to look a little bit—”

“What?!” A few chunks of carrot came flying out of his mouth, causing the boys to explode into snickers and simultaneous “ew’s.” Taehyung ran to the nearest bathroom and nearly ran face-first into the mirror trying to get a good look at his face.

“Hoseok!!!” he screeched like a demon. “You are so freaking lucky we don’t share a room anymore!”

Jungkook was starting to hyperventilate and clap like a seal, while Jimin, Seokjin and Hoseok sounded like they were on laughing gas from all of their snorting. “How do you fall for that sort of thing?” Seokjin forced out while clutching his stomach and nearly bursting into tears.

“God you guys are so stupid,” Namjoon facepalmed. In reality, he was hiding his ear-to-ear grin and his cheeks were sore. “I don’t know how we dealt with each other for twenty years.”

This made all of them laugh even harder.

Still hiding behind the doorway, Yoongi felt a bruising pain bloom from within his chest. It started deep down in his ribs and moved up his chest, crawling up his throat and contracting every muscle and scraping against every bone as it made its way farther up. The ache grew into a bubble, inflating itself bigger and bigger until it hurt for him to swallow or breathe. His knees buckled from beneath him as his back slid down the wall, his body curling into a crouched position. He looped his hands behind his neck and tugged his face into his knees, the familiar darkness comforting him. He wanted to scream until his throat refused to; punch something until his knuckles were pink, kick a box, bite down on a towel until his gums ached, throw a glass at a wall and watch it shatter into pieces, thrash around until his limbs went numb from the buzz of blood circulation.

He wanted to cry but he didn’t; he wanted to feel the tears as they trailed down his face. He wanted to feel the burning sensation of them trailing down his skin each time he wiped them away, cheek stinging even more after he did.

He needed to cry but he couldn’t.

“Do you wanna go wake him up, Taehyung?” Seokjin asked, his voice waking Yoongi up from his daze. It was more of a gentle command than a question, really. “He never gets mad at you for waking him up.”

On cue, Yoongi walked into the kitchen and pretended to rub his eyes as if he were still sleepy. Sitting at the table, he blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “Wow, you actually managed to cook something and not burn my place down.” His chest was still sore and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed, but there was also a part of him that was genuinely impressed by the setup.

“Hey, we’re not all like Namjoon.” Hoseok poked fun at him again and twirled his spatula as if it were a hypnotist wand.

“At least I made sure the water was boiling,” Joon mumbled under his breath.

Yoongi had no energy to smile, but he managed to lift the edges of his lips into the ghost of one. “I’m starving,” he spoke as his voice cracked a little.

The dinner table was already set and they just needed to bring some spare plates over. As everyone began gathering around the food, Yoongi felt the swelling in his chest begin to calm down. He was still having trouble breathing deep breaths, but it was better. Better than nothing.

“Want some water?” Jungkook offered, face still flushed red from laughing earlier.

“Thanks,” Yoongi accepted. He patted the youngest on the head and ruffled his hair like the high school days. Looking around, he studied every single face of his friends, admiring traits he hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate before.

Pouring him a glass, the boys soon joined Yoongi at the table, wine glass in hand. Hoseok handed the extra one he had brought to Yoongi, sneaking him a wink. A grin spread across his lips.

Jimin passed around the bottle of white wine as Taehyung cracked open a mini bottle of red for himself. All eyes darted towards the second youngest, causing him to raise his hands in defense. “Chardonnay gives me a hangover sometimes!”

“Mhm,” Jungkook hummed. “Totally the chardonnay.”

Another circle of laughter encompassed the table. Right as they were about to start eating, Hoseok remembered that he forgot to take the pasta out from the saucepan.

Namjoon stood up so fast, he didn’t have time to voice his pain when his toe struck against the table leg. “I’ll get it!” he volunteered before anyone could stop him. The dining table was right beside the kitchen so why was he in such a rush?

The others trusted him enough with a simple task like pouring something out of a pan into a dish. At least, that was until the boy decided the pasta was lacking a little bit of “zest,” so to speak.

“Jungkook, where’d you put the basil?” he asked while shuffling through the refrigerator.

"In the fridge, second drawer,” Jungkook answered, going back to take a bite of his steak. “Why?”

“The pasta needs some green!” he said with far too much energy in his voice.

Jimin, Taehyung, Seokjin, Hoseok, Jungkook, and Yoongi all looked at one another with the same puzzled expression before shrugging it off. That classical fiction analysis class was probably making him go kooky. The peace lasted for about half a second until Namjoon asked where Jimin had put the knife.

Their calm expressions immediately turned into ones of sheer terror as they looked at each other and scrambled out of their seats at the speed of light.

“Namjoon!” they screamed in unison.

Kat nearly dislocated her jaw. “He texted you again? What did he say? Did you text him back? What did you say? Was he being a dick again? How—”

You smacked your hand across her mouth in an effort to shut her up. Her overzealous energy was really a double-edged sword. On certain days, you absolutely thrived on it. On days like this, you hated it with a burning passion more than you hated maidenhair ferns. They were beautiful in theory but were a bitch to keep happy.

“Kat,” you stopped. “I love you and I would do anything for you, but I really need you to just shut up for right now, okay?” Nodding slowly at your request, you carefully peeled your hand off of her mouth.

“Are you okay?” she asked instead, much calmer than before. “You seem a little off.”

Sighing, you decided it would just be better if you showed her the texts.

Douchebag: hey ______, is this ur number? [ 2:22 p.m.]

Douchebag: i got a new phone that’s y [ 2:23 p.m.]

You: yea [ 2:29 p.m.]

Douchebag: how’ve you been [ 2:35 p.m.]

You: good, you? [ 2:42 p.m.]

Douchebag: {download image.jpeg} [ 2:44 p.m.]

Douchebag: I wanted to snap u this cuz I was wearing the sweater you got me but I guess u don’t have snap lol [ 2:45 p.m.]

You: I deleted all of my apps and never got back to reinstalling them, sorry [ 2:50 p.m.]

Scrolling through the rest of the messages, Kat scoffed in disbelief. “I knew he was scum, but catching up after three years of nothing and acting like everything is peachy keen is a new level of assholery,” she rambled on.

You rolled your eyes, resting your elbow on the counter and palm cradling your temple. “What can I say. I definitely know how to pick them well.”

“And the goddamn audacity of him to send a shirtless pic, masking it as a ‘thank-you for buying me that sweater’ schtick?” she growled, fist clenching around nothing while picturing his face.

“An absolute disgrace,” you tagged along.

“It’s not your fault, ______,” Kat soothed. “I would’ve fallen for his mind games too if he charmed me like that.” She took a sip of her iced coffee and shook her head vigorously. “God he makes me want to punch him in his stupid ugly face with that stupid dumb grin and those stupid poofy curls in his stupid misshaped head—”

“Kat,” you warned again, begging her to calm down. Her vernacular wasn’t the best, but damn was it amusing at times. “We just texted back and forth to kill some time. It didn’t mean anything and it’s not happening again.” It felt like you were trying to convince yourself more than her.

She studied your expression carefully before deciding what to say next. “If he ever crosses the line again, call me.” Placing her hand over your free hand, she gave it a good squeeze. The edges of your lips curved into the tiniest smile and you instantly felt at ease.

“Have I ever told you how lucky and grateful I am to have met you?” you chuckled, ignoring the throbbing in your temple that started early in the morning.

Tossing her hair behind her shoulders like an actress from the Golden Age of Hollywood, her teeth glimmered like diamonds against the bright red lipstick she had on. “As am I, my pumpkin patch sweet pea,” she beamed.

Covering your face to hide your painful grin, the door chimed, welcoming a customer. You fanned your face to calm down your rosy cheeks. “Welcome!” you greeted with your usual bright tone.

“Don’t touch anything,” someone criticized, the quiet sound of a hand smacking skin resounding through the small shop.

“I didn’t!” another voice, most likely the one who was scolded, replied in an irritated whisper.

Sitting up straight, you saw three young men standing right by where the glass terrarium displays were set up. You’d recognize that toothy smile and round face anywhere.

“Jungkook!” Finally getting out of your chair, you couldn’t help but be excited to see his face again. Kat’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as she stared back and forth between you and the guys with a blatant, “are you kidding me, you met a cute guy and didn’t bother mentioning it to me” face.

Poking the shoulder of his friend who was scolded, Jungkook greeted you with his signature smile and energetic wave. “______! Namjoon, Jimin, this is ______.”

The taller one shook your hand. “Nice to meet you,” he spoke gently with a close-lipped smile and sensed a child-like wisdom from him that you couldn’t exactly put your finger on. It didn’t help that his horn-rimmed glasses made him look like a teacher and a student.

“Jimin, wonderful to meet you.” The shorter-statured boy addressed you with a nearly angelic tone, voice softer than what you’d imagine clouds to feel like between your fingertips. His silver-dyed hair added to his overall ethereal aura.

Still sat at the counter, a starstruck Kat greeted the three with more confidence and gusto than you could ever muster. “Honored to meet you, I’m Kathryn but please call me Kat.” She strummed her fingers in the air as if she were plucking a harp. Jungkook, Jimin, and Namjoon grinned, already sensing the quirky nature of her personality. Yup, Kat’s so-called “Kat-Attack” was definitely contagious.

If you had a dollar for every time you blushed because of Jungkook and/or his friends, you’d have enough money to buy your own greenhouse—and live in said greenhouse. It wasn’t until Kat forcefully coughed up her left lung out that you registered how long you had been shaking Jimin’s hand. Pulling away abruptly, you let out an awkward chuckle. This was totally not weird at all—just three attractive, charming, attractive young men who waltzed into your shop on an ordinarily quiet day. Nothing weird. God, you were making it so weird—

“I’m gonna go get some coffee, do you guys want anything?” Kat asked out of the blue. If she was going to do what you think she was about to do...

“No, that’s alright,” Jimin turned down kindly. “We stopped by a café on the way here, but thank you for offering.”

“No problem at all!” Kat smirked just the slightest bit while saying this as if she’d gotten away with a bank heist. “I’ll see you after work, ______!” As she was walking outside, you saw her shoot you a mischievous wink through the glass before running off.

“So,” you started, trying your best to carry on the conversation as if you weren’t the most socially awkward human in the world. “What brings you and your friends in today?”

Jungkook, still as shy as ever, ruffled his hair lightly out of habit. “Well, you see, me Taehyung, and another friend of ours moved into an apartment a while back, and it still doesn’t feel...” he paused, trying to think of the right word. “—homey enough.”

While listening to Jungkook, Jimin and Namjoon were exploring the shop, taking in everything they could with their eyes, smelling what they could with their nose, and feeling every leaf and petal with their fingertips.

“We’re not the roommates,” Namjoon joked. “He dumped us ‘a while back.’” He acted out air quotes around the last three words. You held back a snort.

“He didn’t dump us, Joon,” Jimin corrected. “He found someone else who makes him happier.” Jimin pouted, raising the back of his hand to his forehead and sniffling like a kid.

Jungkook rolled his eyes and scoffed. “These two goofballs are with my other friend,” he clarified. “Taehyung, Seokjin and I have a pretty hectic schedule because of, you know...” Jungkook’s face was dusted with a shade of pink, clearly still too bashful to admit that he was a model.

“I understand,” you nodded, still biting the inside of your cheek to refrain from smiling too much. “So you, Taehyung, and Seokjin share an apartment while Jimin, Namjoon, and—?” Trailing the sentence off with a higher pitched voice, Jimin got the message.

“Hoseok,” he finished for you. “He’s an even bigger dolt than me and Joon combined, trust me.” The image he painted made you giggle.

Eventually, you arrived at the best conclusion you could form with the information given. “Right, so the six of you are best friends and live in two apartments.”

“In theory, yes,” Namjoon established. “But we also have Yoongi who lives by himself.”

“He’s the guy who Taehyung and I came in asking advice for?” Jungkook clarified, helping you recall back to the first time you met them.

You heard Jimin exhale deeply. “He’s sort of like the dad of our group, if you know what I mean. Quiet, kind of emotionally detached but in reality just doesn’t know how to express himself—that kind of thing.”

“Oh.” It slipped out by accident and sounded more melancholic than you thought. You tried coming up with something to neutralize your slip-up. “I’m really glad he has you guys as family.”

Jimin and Jungkook gave you a heartfelt smile—then there was a thud.

Turning around, Namjoon was hiding his face behind his hand while rubbing his temple. The grow light that was hanging still from the ceiling was now swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

You were wincing as if you felt his pain secondhand. “Are you okay?”

He nodded too quickly as if trying to convince you that he was really okay. “Fine. Good. Flower shop. Plants need light. Forgot about the dangling lights. A lot of them.” he sputtered like a morse code machine.

Turning back to Jungkook and Jimin, they too had their faces buried in their hands out of sheer embarrassment. Sometimes, people found it hard to believe that Namjoon was that clumsy in his actions, but even harder for Jungkook and Jimin to tell them that he was their senior.

“Anyway,” Jungkook coughed. “Our new place looks kind of uninviting and Jimin thought adding a couple of plants might make it more cozy.”

Jimin had made his way to the syngoniums and rhaphidophoras. “We have better luck with plants than Namjoon and Yoongi. They don’t exactly have the greenest thumbs.”

Chuckling, you directed their attention to the macrame the 6-inch pothos n’joy that cascaded from the ceiling. Coincidentally, Namjoon was inspecting that exact one. Perfect. “Actually, he’s a pretty forgiving little guy.” Stepping up the ladder and bringing him down, Jungkook’s eyes grew big and his hands flew out to hold the ladder steady. “Thanks,” you blushed again.

Holding the plant up close now, you let them admire the creamy white variegation, watercolor patches of green, lighter patches of green, and the lush leaves. You also showed them the golden pothos, which was a more of a typical chlorophyll green, but it had beautiful yellow and white specks of variegation throughout the foliage.

“I’m assuming you’re all still beginners,” you inferred, to which they all nodded in agreement. “These guys need lots of bright light, but don’t press them up against a window or they’ll get sunburn,” continuing to explain.

“Water them every few weeks and wait until they’re bone dry, then give them a good, thorough drench. Don’t overwater them or they’ll hate you for it, trust me. They rarely ever need fertilizer, but I’ll give you guys some packets to last you a couple of months.”

“Can we take them all home?” Jimin gawked, head tilted up towards the sky and staring at the ceiling that was ornate with vining, trailing, hanging, and branching foliage.

An amused laughter left your lips. “I wish you could, but the next time you come and visit I’ll let you take one of those home,” you promised. “If you want another eye-candy foliage one, you could also take home a brasil.” Holding up the heart-leafed philodendron, the neon yellow stripes down the median of each leaf and clusters of light and dark green looked like they were hand-painted.

“Oh me, me, me!” Jimin’s hand shot up in the air, flapping it back and forth vigorously.

“Could I take one of these too?” Namjoon inquired with a 6-inch pot in hand. “Rhaphid—off... fera—?” he tried to sound out, earning another giggle from you.

“Rhaphidophora tetrasperma but it’s more commonly known as a mini monstera,” you clarified. He formed his lips into an o shape, caressing the delicate split-leaved foliage. “I think you’d be more than able to take care of that one.” Jungkook coughed to hide his snort.

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t drown it,” Jimin assured, throwing you a sly wink. Add another dollar to your bank account, would you?

“Hello, last time I checked we came here to buy housewarming gifts for my house?” Jungkook reminded them in the form of a rhetorical question.

You patted him on the shoulder to wipe the pout off his face. “There’s more than enough plant love to go around.”

“We’re gonna be here all day...” Jimin sighed in content, gently feeling the fuzzy leaves of some African violets. “Say sorry to my bank account for me, will you?”

“I second that,” Namjoon added. “What on earth is this?” Holding up a 2-inch grow pot, you pursed your lips at his dumbfounded expression, eyebrows raised and wrinkled at the odd looking succulent.

“It’s a lithops.” His face contorted more at your reply “They’re also known as living stones. As they grow, they split in half and pop out little baby lithops.”

Blinking to process what he had just heard, Jimin groaned and shielded his eyes. “Don’t say it, Joon.” Looking closer at the plant Joon was holding, Jungkook parted his mouth—

“It looks like a lil’ol buttcrack,” Namjoon pointed out bluntly. The three of you let out a synchronous sigh and buried your faces into your hands, but couldn’t help and burst into laughter right after.

“We are going to be here all day, aren’t we,” Jungkook said muffled through his hands still covering his face.

After the last crappy 72 hours, you were more than grateful to have them keep you company for the day. "I’m more than happy to make some new friends while doing my job.” The words flowed freely from your mind, excited to get to know them better.

After sending each of the guys home with enough plants they could manage to carry, you closed up the shop for the day. Kat texted you right after the guys left in a panic. She completely blanked about the gala she had to attend for her design and commerce class and was running to catch the metro. You could tell she was still adamant on wearing her fashionable but not functional cube-heeled oxfords, as her texts were a mixture of all-caps lock and garbled, choppy sentences.

As you made your way back to your apartment, you couldn’t help but hear a jumble of voices arguing with each other in your head.

Text him back, he misses you.

Don’t. He’s just using you to get what he wants again. He’ll leave just like that last time. Remember last time? You don’t want that to happen again do you?

Scum. Dirtbag. Trash. User.

What if he means it this time?

Asshole. Player. Heartbreaker.

Maybe he’s changed.

Don’t do it. Put your phone down.

What if he actually misses me? What if it’s different this time? Just text him. Nothing bad will happen if you text him once.

Everything bad that can happen will happen, it’s only a matter of—

The slamming of your door seemed to silence the conflicting pieces of your collective conscience. Leaning against the door, you clicked your lock and pressed your hand against your chest, willing yourself to calm down.

You tossed your keys onto the counter and jumped into the shower as soon as you threw your clothes into the laundry basket. The steam engulfed your body with a pleasant heat, releasing the tension in your neck and shoulders that had built up from the sleepless nights in bed.

After spending a little less than an hour in your makeshift steam sauna, you remembered that you actually had utility bills to pay. You quickly got out of the shower and slipped on your usual attire of joggers and an old shirt. The place was chilly, so you slipped on a cardigan for good measure. With your hair wrapped in a towel, you searched through your fridge for something to eat.

“Damn.” The words left your lips before you could stop them.

Of course, it was pretty much empty. You were so caught up with spring orders for the past few weeks, you didn’t get a chance to stop by the grocery store on your way home. Settling on half of a turkey sandwich leftover from yesterday, you were grateful you still had a few cans of soda left to compliment tonight’s gourmet feast.

You made yourself comfortable on your couch that was arranged right across your balcony. There was no use in having a TV if you couldn’t afford to pay the electric bills, and you wanted to utilize the limited space of your studio to its fullest. The fizz of the soda nearly made you choke. It had been a hot minute since you had soda, relying purely on coffee for the past few years to give you that caffeine boost.

The sound of sirens wailing echoed throughout the city and pierced through the hum of traffic with ease. Leaning your head back into the dense cushion, you closed your eyes and listened; the relentless thumping of your upstairs neighbors, probably having another night of friends over; the faint shouts from the restaurant across the street that was overflowing with diners, typical of a Friday night; the gentle whisper of cold air that bled through the crack of your sliding balcony door. You needed to get that fixed ages ago.

The food wasn’t going down well. It was that damn soda. Putting down the last few bits of the sandwich, you stood up and stepped outside onto your balcony. The lights flickered on and you admired the plant shelves you’d set up a few days after moving in. It was a teeny tiny space, but the luscious array of green, pinks, reds, white, and every color in between made it all the more bearable.

You propped your elbow up against the rail that guarded the edge and breathed in for four seconds, held it for five, and exhaled for six. It was working, right? Your hands came up to the sockets of your eyes, applying the slightest bit of pressure to them. There were days where you really wanted to sleep for days on end; a hibernation, if you will. Today was most definitely one of those days. There was one problem—how were you supposed to fall asleep if you were too afraid to?

You were scared of seeing him in your dreams. Not even dreaming about him, no—the fear of encountering him as a random stranger while you were on your way to the floral market or a jogger passing by on your stroll in the park. His face resurfaced in flashes The glimpses of your favorite memories together were now inescapable bursts composed of your worst nightmares.

You hated him. You loathed him with all of your heart, despised him with every fiber of your being and with every single living cell in your body. You wanted to forget about him; you wanted to forget he ever existed and that he ever met you. Every single moment you shared with him and every second you wasted pining over whether he loved you back; you wanted those years of your life back.

But you knew better than anyone that time was never forgiving, and you would never get to relive those years ever again.

The funny thing—actually the hilarious thing—was that you hated yourself more than you hated him. You hated yourself for being the one who introduced yourself to him at that stupid party; you never should have gone to that stupid fucking party. You were such an idiot, what were you thinking?

All those days, months, and years you spent constantly hovering over your phone, begging and pleading for him to send you a text. Something, anything to acknowledge that he still knew your name and to give you the opportunity to manipulate it into meaningless signals, then use that to convince yourself that he actually did care about you.

You couldn’t remember for the life of you how or why you started falling for him. You both agreed to it no-strings-attached. No cuddles, no aftercare, no dates, and definitely no kissing in front of other people or hugging each other. He said his reputation would be ruined if his friends found out about you two.

In love with the idea of being in love, you agreed without a second thought. No feelings, no crossing the line. Simple.

Until he started breaking the rules.

He’d get jealous of you hanging out with other guys, blowing up your phone with questions and angry paragraphs along the lines of “You’re not going to parties anymore unless it’s with me” and “I can’t believe you hung out with Aaron of all people. You know he’s a complete fuck up, right?”

Then he started caring—at least, acting like he did. Pretending. Faking. Lying. Masquerading. Call it whatever you will. He held you close to his chest after spending time with you in his bed, wrapping you under the covers to keep you warm. You’ll never forget the warmth of his chest as his heartbeat thumped against your ear. His fingers traced the outline of your face when he thought you were asleep, never knowing that you did everything in your power to hold back your smile. Then there were times when he’d leave you right after, making an excuse about a night out with his friends or a project due tomorrow. It was always due tomorrow. Other times he would go to the bathroom and then come back to throw you a towel.

“My roommates will be here any minute. You should hurry up,” he’d warn.

Case and point, his games worked. After three years, you were head over heels for him. The memory of how it ended was blocked from your mind. Anytime you tried to remember that day, you always ran into a concrete wall. It was almost as if you built it to protect yourself from something, but what?

The only thing you could recall were the tears. Maybe they were his too, but you vividly remember yours. They flooded your vision with a cloudy film, overflowing in streams and trails down your face and even causing you to choke on them. And the screaming—god, the screaming... More memories flooded in as your hands cupped your ears.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I’m sorry that I want what’s best for you and that you can’t see how much I care. I’m sorry for being so blind and seeing you for who I wanted you to be, that I couldn’t see you for who you truly are! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

Shutting your eyes tightly, you felt a drop of wetness fall dribble down your cheek. You were crying again. A sniffle followed the scoff that came out of your mouth. What, three years have already passed since then? Three years and you were still crying over that asshole?

Wiping at your face with the rough fabric of your sleeve, you bit your lip to concentrate on something else. You stared at nothing to the point where everything looked blurry and your eyes stung. The temperature suddenly dropped, indicated by your shivering. You couldn’t afford to get sick and hurried back inside.

Before you knew it, the clock had struck 11:00 p.m. and you were not the slightest bit sleepy. Sheltered in the safety of your own home, you had an idea that would not only get your mind out of the rut you’d fallen into, but also . Digging through scraps of loose paper, dry pens, and trash in general, you found your old earbuds. They worked perfectly fine, okay? Why fix something when it’s not broken?

Plugging them into your phone because yes—you had a phone which was one of the dying species that still had a headphone jack—you turned on your favorite playlist (appropriately titled stre$$ed) and commenced dancing in your room like someone from the 70′s. The only thing missing was a pair of flare-cut jeans, a splotchy tie-dyed shirt, and a pair of Kat’s over-the-top disco boots.

Even though your neighbors were assholes about keeping it down after lights out, you chose to be the bigger person and take their residence into consideration. Mouthing the words silently and jumping as softly as you could, your damp hair stuck to the edges of your face and flung around, hitting your cheek a couple of times. Truth be told, you were far past the point of caring.

Each time your foot came thumped against the plush carpet was an invigorating strike; every head bob was a liberating release; each labored breath and winded puff felt like the exact opposite, a breath of fresh air.

An escape.

You flopped onto the bed with a heavy exhale, trying to catch your breath. Panting, your face felt hot and every part of your lungs burned like you were being roasted alive on a bonfire. The back of your hand felt cool against your forehead and your eyes began drooping at the soothing touch. Before you could pull the covers up, darkness engulfed your senses and you were out like a light.

Yoongi couldn’t sleep. He had counted backwards from one hundred, two hundred, five hundred, and maybe a thousand. He tried listening to a random playlist full of rain sounds, alpha waves, crickets, and a fireplace crackling. All that came from that was an unnecessary number of bathroom trips, ear scratching, skin itching, and throwing off the covers from the heat he was imagining.

Sitting up in annoyance, Yoongi sat on the edge of his bed with his forehead resting on his hand, elbow propped up on his elbow. He couldn’t stop thinking. Thinking about his job, the deadlines he had to meet, the songs he had to make, lyrics that still needed to be written, phone calls and emails he needed to send out—he was supposed to call his mom during lunch.

“Fuck,” he swore, rubbing his eyes again. Looking at his alarm clock, the time 12:12 a.m. was outlined in blue. He initially settled on the traditional red one while at the store, but Hoseok convinced him to opt for a more “peppy color.” Yoongi’s lips curved into a soft grin at the memory. Within seconds, his eyebrows knitted together into a frown and his eyes flickered, the subtle expression he bore moments ago now a stone cold gaze.

No matter how hard he tried and how badly he wished and prayed, he couldn’t compel himself to cry. Despite his adamant concentration and determination, he didn’t shed a tear. Not being able to force it out without knowing what it was, proved to be absolutely suffocating.

He tried focusing on something else. The lights, the city, the sounds—he needed to focus on something else. Gazing through the window he’d familiarized himself with, Yoongi took in the view. From his room, he was able to see a picturesque layout of where the biggest main streets of the city intersected. Through the fog, he could also make out the faint edges of the longest footbridge that ran across the skyline. Looking down, the warm glow of street lamps and building lights twinkled through the dark night like man-made stars.

Lifting his head up to the apartment complex directly across from his, there were still a couple of lights on here and there. Yoongi felt validated in the sense that he wasn’t the only one who had sleepless nights. One by one, they started to fade, each apartment light turning off as someone’s hand flicked a lever and went to sleep. It was strangely relaxing to watch. After about twenty minutes of staring intently at every person tune out for the night, he narrowed his eyes at one that remained.

Directly across from his apartment was the faint yellow glow of someone’s balcony light. He imagined the wonderful warmth radiating from it, closing his eyes to immerse himself in the imagination. Looking closer, Yoongi saw the shadow of a woman leaning on the railing. She was shivering.

Bringing her hand up, she wiped at her face and started laughing—crying? He couldn’t see in the dark all that well. Trying to get a closer look, he forgot about the glass that separated him from the outside world and face planted the pane. Wincing in pain, he wrinkled his nose and inhaled sharply through his two front teeth.

He shook it off and centered his vision back to the balcony opposite to his room, remembering to open the window this time. Cold air bit at his cheeks but he ignored it, determined to find what he had witnessed seconds ago. The girl was still leaning on the rail and was staring at seemingly nothing. Her shoulders hiccuped up every few seconds and hands came up to wipe her face again.

Definitely crying.

Yoongi was awestruck. How good did it feel to finally get it out? Was it worth it? Did it feel like you could breathe again? Yoongi soon realized that he was jealous—no, he envied her ability to weep; her ability to shed real, painful, cathartic tears.

He envied the one thing he couldn’t have and would never be able to get.

Following your movement back inside, he should’ve gone back to bed himself, but for some reason, he just couldn’t. His gut told him not to, but then again, that way of decision-making was a 50/50 bet.

Whether it happened in the blink of an eye or this was all some sleep-deprived dream, she ended up going from crying her eyes out to dancing her heart out? She reminded Yoongi of Seokjin’s drunk dancing; good but not good, sane but not entirely, and so rhythmic yet incredibly off beat. Her vibrancy was contagious and made Yoongi smile a real smile for the first time in a while. If you told him that she had bawled herself delirious two minutes ago, he would have snorted. It looked as if she didn’t have a single worry or care in the world....

He felt like a creep. He shouldn’t be up, period. He should be sleeping, not spying on his neighbors. Worse, they weren’t even neighbors, had never met before, nor did they even come a foot close and live in the same building.

Hell, that made it so much freaking worse.

He sighed at how pathetic he felt. Was he that desperate for something he didn’t even know? Yoongi decided to call it a night. Crawling into his covers, they never seemed to keep him warm, no matter how tightly he wrapped himself in them. It was either searing hot discomfort paired with cold sweat or ice cold feet and teeth chattering.

That night by whatever random laws of the universe he slept soundly. Not once did he shoot open his eyes from nightmares or stir in his sleep out of discomfort. Maybe it was from witnessing someone’s emotional outpours and experiencing them vicariously through his own means, or maybe it was the satisfaction of selecting all of his unread emails and archiving them until tomorrow, one thing was for sure—Yoongi had accomplished his goal of sleeping through an entire night; something he hadn’t done for years now...

I’ll get out of it.

“I never thought I’d ever say this,” you started, trying to close your agape mouth. “But I think you guys might have one too many plants.” Looking at their coffee table, it was overflowing with the eight boxes you’d delivered this morning. Yes, there were eight boxes full of plants delivered to a single apartment. Marco would have the time of his life restocking for next week. Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jimin helped you carry up the boxes and were all staring at the ground sheepishly, their hands clasped behind their backs like children who were caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar.

You offered to deliver the boxes to their places separately, seeing as they had different spaces and floor plans, but that cheeky bugger Taehyung convinced you to rendezvous at his place. Then you wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of walking back and forth between the shop and their corresponding buildings, and the guys would get a chance to meet you.

Guilt gnawed at you for making them interrupt their daily schedules just to bring home some houseplants, but Jungkook insisted that they were all free for the next two weeks; spring break for Jimin, Namjoon, and Hoseok, pre-season break and scheduling bookings for Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook.

Meeting Seokjin for the first time and Taehyung for the second was a memorable experience, to put it lightly. You walked in on them running around half naked and throwing crumpled balls of clothes at each other. Turns out they had been arguing about who’s turn it was to do the laundry and neither of them were having it. Long story short, you lived life by the rule that first impressions were a good indicator of someone’s unfiltered, raw, underlying disposition, and in this case, it proved to be entirely true in the best way possible.

“We’ll share, we promise.” Jimin was the first to break the silence but still had trouble meeting your gaze.

Jungkook pointed an accusing finger at Seokjin and Taehyung, his turn to talk. “They didn’t believe us after they saw how many plants we came home with, so we figured we’d invite you over to meet them in person and see whether they convert or not.”

“Safe to say that we are officially convinced,” Taehyung raised his hands in surrender, elbowing Seokjin to do the same.

Hiding your smile by pressing your lips together, a tingling sensation spread across your face at his odd choice of words. When you reminded them about their hectic schedules and voiced your concern about them being able to keep up with care, Seokjin revealed his contract agreement with Hoseok. “He promised that he’d come by and water them whenever we’re out of town for longer than a week,” the eldest explained while biting back a smirk. “He kind of owes me a lifelong debt...”

Forcing out a tight-lipped sideways grin, Hoseok slung his arm over Jimin’s shoulder, bearing a smirk of his own. “Don’t worry, Jimin here owes me a debt of his own.”

A sly grin crept along Jimin’s face. "Considering that my lifelong debt doesn’t have to do with the fact that you bl—” Before he could finish, Seokjin and Hoseok’s hands flew up faster than lightning to cover the boy’s mouth. Taehyung nearly spit out his water and the others were near tears and clutching their abdomens, their mouths sealed tight and refusing to let out one of their pact’s biggest secrets. You admired how loyal and strong their bond was, a rare thing in this day and age.

Shaking your head to distract yourself from their incessant laughter, you pressed your hand over your forehead and widened your eyes in concentration. “Well, let’s get to organizing, shall we?”

Unpacking the boxes one by one, each contained an array of species from pothos, philodendrons, syngoniums, hoyas, pileas, peperomias, baby rubber trees, rhaphidophoras, sansevierias, ZZ plants, money trees, and finally, two mature, green monsteras for each of them to keep in their living rooms. Not knowing what kind of lighting situation they had going on, you tried to limit your recommendations to medium-light tolerant plants. After they alerted you about their east and south-exposure windows, you were relieved in your selection.

“I call the big guy,” Jungkook cooed, picking up the staked rhaphidophora and clutching it to his chest and smirking coyly. “For my room.”

Seokjin whined loudly. “We live in the same apartment!”

Taehyung let out a disappointed sigh and shook his head. “You see what I have to deal with every day?”

Namjoon reached for the philodendron micans. “It’s like velvet!” he commented in awe as he felt the leaves. It was nicknamed the velvet-leaved philodendron after all, but his reaction made you feel fuzzy with plant love.

“Woah this looks like an alien’s flying saucer,” Hoseok noted. Picking up the pilea, it never struck you that the round, green disks did, in fact, look like flying saucers. Once everyone was satisfied with what they were taking home (it ended up taking a lot less time than you predicted), you went to work arranging them around the living room, bedroom, and kitchen, all while explaining to them the water and light requirements, periodic maintenance, and looking out for pests.

You urged Jimin, Namjoon, and Hoseok to go back to their place first, assuring that you’d meet them there. They said it was no bother and wanted to witness your working process. You were just doing your job, but seeing them fascinated by your passion and vigor was much more endearing than you thought it would be.

Just as you were hanging the macrame pot by their balcony, you heard the front door click open. Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon were holding the step ladder steady for you.

Since you were concentrating on getting the nail at the right angle, you paid no attention to it, assuming it was Hoseok or Jungkook going to recycle the used wrapping paper and packing materials.

“Yoongi!” Jimin called out.

“Good to see you dude,” Taehyung beamed. “Sorry, our hands are kind of full.”

“Could’ve given me a heads up that you had a guest over,” he grumbled, but you couldn’t hear through the rustling of the leaves that smacked your face.

The sound of footsteps grew louder from afar, then paused when you felt a presence behind you. “Jungkook,” you called out, turning your shoulder and looking down to where he was standing. “Do you mind grabbing the pliers from—”

Here’s the thing you never understood about step ladders. Standing on them is considered a safety hazard, yet it’s method of use and reason for existence is to be stood on. You wished you remembered this when you decided to turn around and look down at Jungkook, except, it wasn’t Jungkook. It wasn’t Hoseok either. Despite not wearing a mask or beanie, you instantly recognized that cold gaze, piercing through yours like daggers.

He was equally shocked and mirrored your exact reaction, eyes growing wide and mouth parting as if you were staring through double-sided plexiglass.

“Yoongi, this is _____,” Jungkook introduced comfortably, conversation flowing freely from him. “______, this is Yoongi. The dad Jimin talked about.” While the boys broke into convulsions of laughter, you and Yoongi were still shellshocked. Of all the people that could be in this friend circle, it had to be the guy who crossed paths with you a few of times on the street?

You didn’t register that you’d lost your footing from the ladder until the familiar weight of gravity tipped you over. The last thing you saw were multiple pairs of hands reaching out to try and catch you, but it was too late—your body collided into his before crashing onto the floor as one whole, the clear thud of wood against flesh echoing throughout the apartment.

That’s definitely one way to make a first impression.

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honey-andtea1889 · 4 years

Text

The Cold Autumn Evenings (H.S.) Part One

AN: Okay so I really tired making this an MGG fic but it didn’t work out like at all. However, Harry literally fit this so well and I seriously couldn’t resist. I’m currently working on parts two and three already and I’m so excited for y’all to read this! Please don’t forget to request stuff, my asks are open and dry asf!

Summary: Y/N works as a writing intern for a large Publishing Company in London. Harry is her boss and wants her to read a novel he had written, little does she know that the novel has a deeper meaning to Harry.

Warnings: None

Song: The City by Ed Sheeran

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It started like any other day. The November morning was frigid as Y/N had made her way into the publishing office she was interning at with four coffees for her coworkers and boss. The heat of the building caught her as she walked into the small, busy office. Fall in London was always beautiful, but the cold could take its toll more than anything.

Y/N had gotten this internship during Uni, she was lucky enough to be able to get it due to it’s high demand for already set writers. It was one of the more prestigious Publishing Companies to work for. She had applied for the paid internship position earlier in the semester and was very lucky to have gotten in when she did. The company was only hiring one or two interns and with how much Y/N loved writing, she knew she had to push to get the job.

Y/N had been writing stories since she could pick up a pencil. She thoroughly enjoyed writing fantasy stories, however she’s recently grown accustomed to romances. She always knew this was a career path she wanted to take which made her job all the more worth it. She was able to lose herself in her writings, that’s what she loved most about it.

“Thank you Y/N!” Claire, Y/N’s best friend, said as she took the warm beverage from the cup holder.

“No problem! How’s that story going so far? Anything interesting yet?” Y/N asked as she passed out the other coffees.

“Ugh no. Don’t get me wrong, the whole Sci-fi feel of it is cool, but there’s little to no understanding of the plot. Plus no background on the characters at all, and don’t get me started on the vague descriptions of the settings.” Claire groaned as she flopped the packet of paper down on her desk.

“Yikes, sounds rough. What chapter are you on?” Y/N asked.

“Chapter five.. I don’t want to toss it just yet because there’s some potential to it but seriously, this guy couldn’t have tried a little harder?”

Y/N chuckled as she settled into her desk, getting herself ready for the day that was planned. She had a set schedule for each and every day. She would answer calls, take stories back to her boss, and so on. Y/N was happy that she landed this internship but she wanted to show off some of her writings. She knew she wasn’t terrible with her stories and there’s always room for improvement, but she wanted to show what she could do. She had actually brought it up to her boss, Harry, but he never had the chance to read it simply because he was too busy with other clients.

Harry always took on a lot of work. He would read almost 4 stories a day! It was astonishing to see that someone who runs one of the top publishing companies still had time to make himself a meal in between all of the work he was doing. That was an admirable trait about him. Y/N knew that asking Harry to take time to read something she had written was asking a lot, to which she never really tried.

Y/N had also tried reaching out to Claire but she felt as though reading a friend’s work was biased, like she already knew she would go through and publish it without reading it all. Y/N didn’t want to just be given that kind of credibility. She needed to work for it and the only way to even remotely come close to that was for her boss to read it or for her to go to an opposing firm which could cause her to lose the internship and everything she had worked for up to this point. So with that in mind, Y/N left it alone.

There was a stack of papers on Y/N’s desk for Harry, contracts and other stories that needed to be read over again for editing. She sighed as she picked up the stack and walked over to his office, slightly knocking on the mahogany door.

“Come in.” Harry said as he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

“Good morning Mr. Styles! I have your coffee and here are some things that were left for you. There’s a contract or two for the last couple authors you signed and some stories that came in this morning.” She said, settling everything in its proper place.

“Thank you, Love. Don’t know if I could do this job without ya!” Harry smiled, his thick English accent melting into the words he spoke.

Y/N blushed and left the office with a skip in her step.

In a sense, Y/N was Harry’s assistant. Though that wasn’t necessarily her job title, it was basically the job of it. She didn’t mind it though. She actually loved the job, only because Harry made work so much better.

There’s no denying that Harry is attractive, anyone with a pair of eyes could see that. His dark brown hair flopped on his head elegantly, a few loose curls falling down around his face sometimes. He had these bright green eyes that could captivate anyone with a single stare and these plushy, raspberry colored looking lips that looked so inviting. His dimples that appeared whenever he smiled were some of the cutest things people have seen. His stature was also something that caught the attention of people. He was tall, just the right height to show some intimidation. He had broad shoulders that had Y/N weak in her knees nearly every day and his suits always clung onto his built form, driving every woman in the office mad with how great he looked. Hell, the word attractive doesn’t do the man any justice.

Y/N flopped on her desk and began her work. She spent most of her day answering emails and printing off agreements and such for incoming clients. It wasn’t the most fun, but she was able to stop into Harry’s office a few times so she wasn’t too bummed.

“Well I’m sorry Mr. Thompson, but unfortunately, this was already written and made into a play on broadway. I can’t really do that considering it’s plagiarism and I can get into a lot of trouble with that.” Harry sighed as he rubbed his forehead.

Y/N giggled as she set the last set of stories on his desk. He shook his head and hung up the phone, rubbing his eyes and groaning out of frustration. Y/N smiled and sat down on the chair in front of his desk.

“What was that all about?” She asked.

“Some very estranged gentleman wanted me to publish a story about two witches in a form of High school setting.” Harry said as he leaned back in his chair.

“Wait...isn’t that Wicked?” Y/N asked as she crossed her legs.

“Exactly my point. Do you know what he wanted to call it?”

“Oh man, this should be interesting.”

“He wanted to call it ‘Haunted High’. Sorry but I’m not going to be sued because of his lack of creativity and effort.” Harry chuckled.

Y/N giggled and ran her fingers through her hair. Harry smiled at the girl in front of him.

He did have a form of admiration for Y/N. He loved how hard she worked and her drive for the job. He enjoyed having her around the office as well. Her energy was something sweet to behold and he adored her personality. She was always so happy and bubbly whenever he saw her. Harry was a little nervous when she was brought in from Uni. He didn’t want to overwhelm her with everything they did but she’s been working like a champ. He was so lucky to have someone like her to help him out.

“I was going to head to lunch here pretty soon, did you need me for anything before I go?” Y/N asked as she stood from the chair.

“I think I’m all set at the moment, love. Thank you.” Harry smiled as he turned to his computer.

Y/N smiled as she exited the small room and headed to the elevator. Claire joined her as they went down to the main floor. The pair walked to a small cafe that was down the street from the Publishing building. They found a few seats over by the big window and happily sat down for their lunch hour.

“So, have you tried to get Mr. Styles to read your book yet?” Claire asked as she skimmed over the menu.

“Not yet. He’s got a lot coming up and not to mention the I-couldn’t-tell-you how many new stories to read every day. I don’t wanna add to it, ya know? He doesn’t need the extra stress.” Y/N explained.

“Though I do understand it, I still think you should try. I’m sure he’ll make time for you.” Claire winked.

Y/N chuckled as she continued looking over the menu.

Claire had a preconceived notion that Harry had a bit of a crush on Y/N and vice versa. Anyone could see the slight attraction between the two and it was only a matter of time before either one made a move on the other. Even Y/N’s mother thought that they’d make a cute couple!

She thought about what Claire had said. Would Harry really make time for her? And if so, why? She’s only his assistant, it’s not like they were the closest of friends or something. Y/N wanted some of her stories published, but was she ready to actually pull through with it?

After lunch, Claire and Y/N returned to the office to finish up their work day. Y/N sat at her desk and contemplated on talking to Harry about her stories. She built up some courage and made her way to his office. She knocked on the door and heard a faint ‘come in’ from the other side. As she entered, she could see Harry with his glasses on, indulged in one of the stories that was brought in earlier. She cleared her throat, Harry picking his head up and smiling at her.

“Hello, petal! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Harry asked, looking back down at the packet.

“M-Mr.Styles....I was wondering..I-I know you’re incredibly b-busy with other stories a-and clients b-but...I was curious that...m-maybe you could look at..m-my story that I’ve wr-written?” Y/N stumbled on her words.

Harry looked up at the girl in front of his desk. She was playing with the buttons of her blouse, indicating that she was nervous to ask, as though her mumbling and stuttering didn’t already give that away. He smiled at her. Harry had a feeling that Y/N knew it might not happen due to how busy he always is, but she looked so sweet with asking and she’s probably worked so hard on it. She wants him to look over her work. In his heart, he’s honored. It’s not every day where one of your employees wants you to take a look into their daily lives. Y/N wanted his opinion and his judgement on something she holds near and dear to her.

“Alright, Y/N. Since you’re so eager for me to see it, bring it in tomorrow and I’ll take a look.” Harry said.

Y/N could feel the weight lift off of her shoulders.

“You’re kidding.” She coughed.

“Y/N, when it comes to doing my job, I don’t do anything of the sort. I will do you the favor of reading it, however this does not guarantee that it will be published. You’re still rather young so I am not having my hopes super high for it.” Harry sighed, closing the packet and setting it in his briefcase.

Y/N felt the slight pang in her chest from his words. He didn’t think her writing would be good. She was hoping he would be a little more excited about it but it seems as though she was wrong.

“Yes Mr. Styles, I understand. I will have it on your desk tomorrow morning.” Y/N whispered.

She exited the office as quickly as she could and slumped over to her desk.

How could he think her book would suffice to all of the other bullshit he was reading? It just didn’t make sense to her. She knew she had to prove him wrong. She pulled out her computer and began looking for her best story. She found the one she had written in her 3rd year of Uni and printed it out. She wrote on a sticky note for Harry to see that it was one of her best pieces.

Harry was leaving his office when he saw her making a few notes on her calendar. She looked up and straightened up her posture, becoming a little nervous that he might ask if she was upset by his comment that was made a few minutes prior.

“I’m heading home now, I’m going to be a bit late tomorrow morning. I have a meeting with corporate. They’ve been on my arse about how things have gone here and why we haven’t met our quota for this quarter. Whenever you get your story, please leave it on my desk and I will try to read it as soon as I get in.” Harry stated, looking down at his phone.

“Yes sir. Is there anything you need me to do tonight?” Y/N had asked.

“N-..actually yes. There’s an extra novel in the top drawer of my desk that needs to be looked at. I can’t get to it at all, is there any way you could look at it?” He asked.

Y/N nodded. He bid his goodbyes and left the building. Y/N entered the office with her book in hand, placing it on the center of his desk neatly. Presentation is key. Before she left, Y/N grabbed the novel that Harry was talking about and exited his office. She looked at the title and stopped in her tracks.

His Beloved, Her Heart by Harry Styles.

He wanted her to read his novel. Just like hers, there was a note attached to the packet of paper.

Y/N, I know I was a bit harsh with my words earlier to which I apologize for and this is probably the last thing you want to do tonight but I need a second opinion. I trust your judgement and would appreciate any feedback you give. Xx H

She traced over his handwriting delicately and felt a smile creep on her face. She soon packed up her things and scampered back to her small flat on the South side of London. When she returned home, Y/N threw her shoes into the closet closest to the door and entered her kitchen. She heard the small pitter patter of her french bulldog, Sam. Petting the sweet pooch, she started up her coffee machine and went into her bedroom to change into some comfier clothes.

Y/N snuggled into her couch with her coffee in hand and began reading Harry’s story. Within the first few chapters, she was hooked. The plot of two people meeting in Central Park and falling in love during Christmas time was enticing, not to mention the beautiful descriptions of the settings, emotions, and character development was captivating.

She never really pegged Harry as a writer. From what she’s heard around the office, Harry was more for reading poetry and writing music rather than stories. Rumor has it that he didn’t want the job of running the company in the first place. However, from what Y/N was reading, those statements were more wrong than anything. She loved how he worded certain paragraphs and how delicate the characters were made to be. It almost felt as though she was reading the script to her favorite Hallmark Christmas movie.

She did note a few small things like grammar/spelling mistakes (happens to the best of us, really), questioned why he wanted to end a certain chapter the way he did, and so on. It was almost one in the morning before she noticed how late it was.

With that in mind, Y/N headed to bed, preparing for more reading tomorrow.

39 notes · View notes

bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years

Text

Pink and Black Roses: A Watford Cove Wedding

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Light Angst

Word Count: 7764

Summary: Eleven years after they first met in Watford Cove, Simon and Baz are getting married. Based on "frightened kiss" request.

Read on AO3

AN: I’m still working on the knight and warlock fic, don’t worry, but this is already done and edited so I want to get it up cause I'm so excited to post it. It's the last request of the 2018 batch, and I thought we needed to go out with a bang. So here's a future fic sequel to Watford Cove! Enjoy :D

———————————————

Simon

“Is my hair alright?” I ask. Penny sighs as she’s adjusting my tie.

“Your hair looks fine, Simon,” she says.

“Is it really?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“But maybe-”

“Simon!” She steps around me, standing between the mirror and I. Her hands grip my shoulders hard. Not tight enough to hurt but enough to keep me steady. “Stop fussing, you’re fine. Not just your hair, you. Stop panicking. Nothing is going to go wrong. And even if something does, stay focused on the goal.”

I snort, a wholly undignified sound for a grown twenty eight year old man I’m told. Like I care. “You sound like Baz’s uni football coach.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m probably smarter.”

“You definitely are, Pen, always.”

She smiles smugly, nose up in the air. “Of course I am.” I chuckle and hold her forearms. A lot of my nerves are already melting away. I don’t know what I’d do without Penelope. “Now, your tie is far more straight than you are.” I snort again. “We should probably get out there with everyone else.”

“Agreed.”

“You’ve got everything, right? Vows, ring, big smile?”

I reach into my pink suit jacket, feeling a piece of paper and and cool metal on my finger tips. I grin wide, all the way to my ears. “Yeah, all good.”

Penelope nods once, then reaches down to firmly hold my hand. “Awesome. Then let’s go.”

We walk together, arms swinging slightly, out the door of the powder room towards the main entry. There’s two doors between us and the main room of the Watford Cove Event Hall. Baz is walking down the aisle first with his party so he’s on the other side. (I wish I could push the doors open and see him.) My party is here, milling about and getting ready. Agatha keeps shifting around her black flower crown with a small frown.

“It doesn’t feel right,” she grumbles.

I stroll up to her and put her crown centre. She turns to me, and immediately grins.

“There,” I say, “perfect.”

“Hey Simon, how are you doing?”

“Honestly? I’m freaking out. But I’m also happy.”

“You better be! I don’t want to be wearing this silly crown thing for nothing.”

I frown and put my hands on my hips. “It’s not silly, it’s cute.”

Her mouth quirks up, one hand on her pink skirt. “Yeah, I suppose it is, even if it’s a pain to wear.” She looks around at the room with a hint of awe. “This whole ceremony is beautiful, really. I’m happy to be a part of it.”

I grin in full force again. Agatha is really nice. We met in uni, sitting together in an intro art class. She noticed how terrified I was to share my work and helped me calm down. We started chatting, and immediately became friends. Penny quickly came to like her too, but Baz took a little longer. He was even a bit jealous because he thought she had a crush on me. Agatha quickly dispelled that notion by introducing us to her girlfriend. Baz felt like an idiot, and I showed immense restraint by only teasing him for a minute. Now we’re all close friends. Close enough that Agatha agreed to fly all the way from California to be a groom’s maid in my wedding.

“Thanks,” I say. “Glad you’re here too.” I look out at all three of them, dressed in pink and black, different parts of my heart. “Glad you’re all here.”

“I’m happy to be here!” Micah chimes in. “This is all so awesome. And I feel like a pinterest photo in this suit.” He spins around, pink jacket flapping about while his black rose boutonniere flys off. Penny sighs as she picks it up.

“Careful, love,” she says. “Black roses are expensive, you only get one of these.”

Micah leans forward and kisses the top of her head, just under her own black flower crown. There’s nothing but affection in his eyes. “Understood, dear.”

Damn, years later and they’re still so sweet. Penelope met Micah long before she met me, when he was an exchange student at Watford High in Year 10. Apparently their connection was instant. Pen was already talking about marriage in high school, and the two went through with it right after uni graduation. They’re very happy. I hope my marriage is as good as Penny and Micah’s. Though looking at mine and Baz’s relationship for the past eleven years, I’d say that’s pretty well guaranteed. We’ve been through a lot, yet we’re still together. Being married will be fucking incredible.

“Are we all ready?” Gran walks in, dressed like a fancy lady. She looks great in her pale pink skirt suit with her hair all done up like a duchess or something. She’s got a black rose boutonniere too. It’s apparently a wedding thing to have flowers everywhere. Not that I mind, I love flowers. Hence why I’m wearing some on my head.

“As long as I don’t sick up, then yeah,” I chuckle.

Gran sighs, shaking her head. “You’re not going to sick up, Simon. You always say you will and you don’t.”

“Agreed!” Penny oh so helpfully adds in. I glare over my shoulder, and she sticks her tongue out. We may be fully fledged adults, but in some ways, we’re very much still children.

“You’re going to be fine, darling.” Gran reaches up to adjust my crown. It’s the one I’ve had since I was seventeen. Gran bought it for me on my first day in Watford Cove. It’s just a little line of pink rosebuds across the top of my head, simple but pretty. Gran said that the one time my Mum was able to phone her while with my Dad, she called me her rosebud boy. My Mum called me such sweet things, and didn’t even live long enough for me to remember them myself.

“You’re thinking about your Mum, aren’t you?” Gran whispers, snapping me out of it. She’s got a tiny, sad smile on her face. I nod slowly.

“Y-Yeah. Sorta wondering what she’d think and all. It’s inevitable, I guess.”

Gran nods. She moves both hands to my front, holding my jacket. Her smile is still small but very kind. “Well, I think I knew my own daughter pretty well, so I can tell you a few things for sure.” I can see the way her eyes are quivering. She’s trying to keep from crying. “My darling Lucy loved you before you were even born, Simon. So she would be incredibly happy that you have found true love. If she were here, she’d be walking you down the aisle instead of me.”

Fuck, that hits me right in the heart in the best way. I smile, a few tears falling down my cheeks. “Darn it, Gran,” I chuckle, “I didn’t want to start crying until the vows at least.”

“Sorry, love.” She wipes at my face with her silk handkerchief. “Don’t worry, you’ve still got enough tears in you for Basil.”

“Oh definitely. I’m going to be a fucking waterfall.”

“Language, love.”

“Sorry, Gran. I’m just nervous.”

She cups my cheek, running a thumb under my eye to catch a stray tear. “I know, darling, I know. Don’t worry, it will be great.” There’s a thumping on the door, making me jump and my breath catch. That’s our signal. Gran holds out her arm for me with a grin. “Showtime, Simon.”

I nod rapidly, and take her thin arm in mine. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Agatha, Micah, and Penny line up in front of us. Agatha knocks back, and the oak doors swing open. The three start slowly walking forward. I take a deep breath, and follow behind.

The Event Hall is insane. Despite being a small town, Watford Cove apparently expected to host huge galas or something, it’s enormous. The ceiling is high and curved, decorated with a fancy mosaic. The walls are intimidating dark wood with pretty carvings. Though they’re covered up with flower garlands right now. The rose garlands are alternating pink and black, like the rest of our decorations, because we’re cheesy and like to stick to our aesthetics. As Gran and I walk forward, everyone’s standing up from their benches. And I mean everyone. We ended up inviting a lot of people. My aunt and uncle, my cousins, Aunt Fiona, Mitali, Martin, Penny’s siblings, Baz’s siblings, his extended family, his uni friends, my uni friends, Mr. and Mrs. Wellbelove, even Ebb and her twin brother. I can feel all their eyes on me. I gulp down my nervous lump and try to keep smiling at them.

But when I look at the altar, well, I don’t have any trouble smiling at all.

He’s standing right there, right at the end of aisle, grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear under a canopy of black and pink silk. His suit isn’t very traditional either. Malcolm nearly had a heart attack when Baz announced what he wanted to wear to the ceremony, but it looks amazing. A leather jacket pairs surprisingly well with a black button down and slacks. A pink rose is attached his lapel, same as Dev and Niall next to him, while Mordelia has a pink flower crown on her head. Baz’s hair is slicked back, but a few strands falling in front of his pretty face. I have to resist the urge to run up and tackle kiss him. This is supposed to be a serious event dammit. Even though I’m wearing a flower crown and he’s wearing a biker jacket.

Gran walks me to the steps and we stop. She kisses my cheek. I can feel a few saltwater drops hit my skin. I’m pretty sure a few are mine too. I hold her hand as I climb the white steps. Just as I reach the top, I turn back. Gran gives me one last big smile from below. I smile back, mouthing “thank you.” She nods once, and we let go.

But Baz is right there to catch my hand.

He pulls me the last step towards him. We stand facing each other, both hands together. I’m grinning, I can’t stop grinning. My heart is about to burst out of my chest.

“Hi,” I whisper. It’s all I can manage. My brain is too overwhelmed to think of words.

“Hi,” he replies. “Glad you could make it.”

I chuckle. “Same to you.”

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Please be seated,” Mr. Kelly, our officiant says, loud enough that I know he means to shut us up. Baz gives me fake look of deference. It makes grin even harder. Christ, I really can’t stop grinning.

“Today,” he announces, “we are here to witness the union between two men I hope you all know.” A chuckle rumbles through the crowd. “And it will be my job to officiate the marriage between Simon Snow Salisbury and Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.” I squeeze Baz’s hands. He squeezes back. “I’ve gotten to know these two wonderful men over the past few weeks. They’re very smart, very kind, and very much in love. They’re one of those rare, beautiful cases of finding true love at a young age. And it’s my honour today to help them celebrate their union and make it legally official. Now, I believe the grooms have their own vows prepared. Who would like to go first?”

Baz and I already decided who would go first. We both know I’ll be a complete mess after hearing Baz’s vows, so I need to go first. Baz and I (reluctantly) let our hands go. I take the folded note paper out of my suit pocket. My hands are shaking but I’m still able to read the words.

“Baz,” I start, “as you and everyone else knows, I’m not that great with words. So it took me awhile to figure out what to say. How can I just, summarise everything about you in words? We’ve been together for a very long time and I I know you better than anyone. So I know that you’re a lot Baz, and I mean that in a good way.”

“I hope so,” Baz says with a smirk. The crowd laughs with us.

“Don’t worry, I really do. You’ve always been a lot in a good way. I still remember the day we first met. You held your head high, like you could take on the world. I couldn’t look away, and I really haven’t stopped looking ever since, I guess. That was just the start though. I soon found out you were ‘a lot’ in other ways too. A lot charming, a lot funny, a lot kind, a lot of just everything good. You’re a really great person, Baz. You amaze me all the time. You’re the strongest, most astounding person I know. Being with you is always a new adventure. Sure, we’ve had our ups and down.” (We have small fights over dumb stuff but only a few big fights really, like our pre relationship fall out or brief break up after uni, aka the worst three months of my fucking life.)

“But ever since high school, I’ve always been happier with you. No one makes me feel like you do, even eleven years later. So, yeah, I don’t want to be with anyone else ever. I just want to marry you. And when we’re married, I promise to listen to your weird music, to repaint your nails when they’re chipped, to hold onto you tight and never let go, and just, y’know, love and care for you for the rest of our lives. I mean that with all my heart, because you’re the best thing in the world. That’s, uh, that’s it.”

I take a deep breath as I put the paper back in my pocket. Slowly, I look back up at Baz. He seems to be awestruck I think. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open slightly, tears welling in his eyes, but also happy. He can’t be too surprised. He must know all this already. I’ve said this stuff before in in pieces at different times. Maybe hearing it all together and in public is weird. I reach out and squeeze his hand. He smiles and squeezes back.

“Dammit,” he chuckles, “I’m supposed to be coherent for this, love.”

I along with everyone else laughs. Baz takes his own deep breath, looking more nervous than I’ve ever seen him. Even as he pulls his own note paper out, he keeps holding my hand. I think he needs to. I don’t mind, I won’t let go.

“Dear Simon,” he says, “I’m writing this three days previous at my desk, trying to figure out what to say on our wedding day, You’re sleeping four feet away from me, curled up with our cat, drooling on your pillow.” I giggle and my face turns bright red. “I look at you and a small part of me is still astounded you want to be with me. You are bright everywhere I'm dark. For awhile I felt unworthy because you were so perfect. But I've learned you aren't this untouchable ray of sunshine. You're even better. You're a real person with problems and fears, who has come out of horrible things tougher but not jaded. And because we’re both messed up, we've learned to be messed up together. We keep each other sane. You're my boyfriend and my partner. l'm more grounded with you by my side. So I’ve realised perfect is too simple a word for you. You’re kind, caring, funny, strong, and incredible, Simon, and I'm amazed by you everyday too. I feel better with you, and I have almost since the day we met. As I write this now, watching you sleep in our bed, there are things I want to make sure you know at our wedding.”

He looks up at me, gazing right in my eye. It’s impossible for me to look away. “I promise to watch your stupid romcoms all the way to the end, to get you sour cherry scones when you’re sad, to support your art even if it means lugging around enormous canvases, and to always help you pick what pastel outfit you should wear. But most of all, I promise to be there for you, no matter what. You’re the love of my life, Simon Snow Salisbury. I already know we’re going to be together forever, but I can’t wait to be married to you as well.”

I sniffle without shame. How the fuck am I not supposed to cry after that? We agreed to both have promises in our vows, but that’s all I knew before today. I want to snog him right now, other people be damned. But Gran would be upset. So I settle for just squeezing his hand. Baz squeezes back, and after putting his paper away, he reaches up to carefully wipe at my eyes. I can’t wait to be married to him too.

“Very beautiful vows” Mr. Kelly says, and he sounds a little teary himself. “My words absolutely cannot follow up, but I’ll try.” Everyone laughs through their quiet crying. “Simon Snow Salisbury, do you wish to be bound in matrimony to this man, till death do you part?”

“I do,” I say without hesitation.

“And Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, do you wish to be bound in matrimony to this man, till death do you part?”

“I do,” he says immediately too.

“Perfect, good to hear. You may exchange the rings.”

Baz lets one of my hands drop and squeezes the other. “You go first, love.”

My throat is still too choked up to do anything but nod. I take the ring out of my pocket. Since our styles clash so much, Baz and I decided to get rings made in the same design but made from different materials. They’re both smooth on each side with braided metal in the middle. (I don’t know how it’s done, but it looks so cool.) Baz’s is black tungsten with a silver braid. It matches his leather jacket perfectly. I easily slip it over his long, bony finger.

“Now your turn,” I say.

Baz eagerly brings out my ring. It’s rose gold on the outside with a regular gold braid. Baz grins at me as he puts it on. The metal is cold right now. But I know eventually it will warm up, because I’m never taking off unless I really have to. And maybe I won’t even then.

“By the power vested in me by the Government of Great Britain,” Mr. Kelly says grandly, “I pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss the groom.”

Mr. Kelly is barely done speaking before Baz and I are leaning forward. Baz cups my cheeks tenderly, I grip his forearms, and our mouths meet in a simple kiss. But it’s not simple. It’s our first kiss as husbands. And that makes it incredible. I’m so lost in the warm feeling of his lips I barely hear the applause and huge cheers from the crowd. We reluctantly part for politeness sake. Baz and I are both grinning and crying. We probably look ridiculous, but who the fuck cares? We’re allowed to look ridiculous right now.

“We’re married,” Baz whispers.

“We’re married,” I echo, equally shocked and so fucking happy.

Baz weaves our fingers together, then turns us to face the crowd. It’s quite a sight to see. All our family and friends, standing up, cheering for us with big smiles. My eyes meet Gran’s. Her smile is softer, and her claps aren’t as hard, but everything is said in the way she looks at me. Congratulations, she says with no words, I’m so proud of you.

I smile as wide as I can back at her.

Me and Baz step off the riser together. Baz raises our hands together, earning a particularly loud cheer from all our loved ones. The cool metal of Baz’s ring presses hard into my skin.

I’m so goddamn happy.

———————————————

Though it’s a bit tedious, taking the wedding photos is a lot of fun. The edge of the Wavering Wood is right near the hall. It’s a flat field with lots of beautiful trees and flowers in the background. The photographer is one of Baz’s many cousins, and he’s very good. He gets us to do many different poses. Some are serious, like looking at each other longingly under a willow tree branch, and some are funny, like Baz suddenly hoisting me up off my feet while I giggle in shock. I’m pretty sure I’m going to love all of them.

We take a lot of photos with our family and friends too. Gran, the Grimms, our wedding parties, some pictures separate and some together. I notice the that first Grimm photo is, well, a bit grim. I tell Baz to smile more, and he glares at first, but does. The others follow suit. They still look stiff, but it’s better. I’m more than pleased.

Baz is taking a picture with his siblings when my phone buzzes. I look down and don’t recognise the number. But Tibby, fellow community centre employee and indie artist, said she was getting a new number soon.

“Fuck, I have to go get this,” I grumble.

“Simon,” Baz groans, looking at me and probably ruining his photo. “C’mon.”

“It might be Tibby! She said she’d call me if our art got into the New Artist's show at Maureen Paley.” Baz still looks upset. I walk up and kiss his cheek, lightly touching his ring. “Two minutes, okay?”

Baz sighs with affectionate exasperation. “Fine, two minutes.”

I kiss his cheek again then dash off across the field. I answer the phone on the last ring. “Hey, Tibby. Did we get it? I’m a bit busy so can you-”

“Hello, Simon.”

I freeze. My blood runs ice cold. The ground is opening up underneath me, I swear. I can feel my muscles shaking so hard I nearly drop the phone. It takes a good few seconds for me to find my voice again.

“Hi, Dad,” I say shakily. “H-How did you get this number? I changed it last year.”

“You have an artist’s Facebook page, son. It was easy enough.”

Shit. I’m going to delete that the second I get home. “Oh, okay. Why are you calling?”

“I heard you were getting married today.”

“Oh,” I squeak. “Um, yeah, I am. Well, I did. But...how did you find out? You don’t follow me on social media, and we haven’t talked in awhile.” How could he know? He shouldn’t know. Fucking hell, he can’t know.

“I met a member of the Grimm family at an education conference last year. We followed each other on Facebook. He just posted a picture from his cousin Basilton’s wedding, and imagine my surprise when I saw my own son kissing the groom. So, did my invitation get lost in the mail?”

I gulp down the lump that has suddenly formed in my throat. “It’s, uh, small. There aren’t a lot of people...”

“Not enough space for your own father?”

God, I forgot how quick he is. How easily he can turn the conversation back to his side. I pull at my hair almost painfully. “I-it’s just, Dad, I-”

I take a deep breath, reminding myself I’m not that weak kid he can pick on anymore. I’m twenty eight years old now, dammit. I have a life, a job, a wonderful husband, nothing he can take away. I don’t have to be scared anymore.

“Dad,” I say firmly, “you weren’t invited. Whatever bit of good relationship we had is long gone. You don’t approve of anything in my life. Not my profession, not my sexuality, not even my fashion sense. I wanted to enjoy my wedding day. Which meant you couldn’t be here.”

There’s a long pause. My heart beats faster with every passing second, but I did it. I stood up to him. After all these years, I can finally tell him off. At least a bit. But that’s more than ever before. I did it, I did it, I di-

“You insolent little brat, how dare you?” he growls. And all of my confidence blinks away in an instant. “After everything I’ve done for you. All I ever did was try to raise you to be better, but you spit in my face. You’re just bloody useless. You’re a complete idiot, a moron, a leech, Simon!”

He keeps going on, and all I can do is stand there. Just stand and listen to my father tear into me. I can’t move. I’m a kid all over again, listening as my father loudly berates me for whatever new screw up I had done. My whole body is shaking, tears streaming down my face, every muscle in my body shaking. I can’t even put down the fucking phone.

“I wish you were never born,” he yells. “You’ve never been anything but a disappointment, you stupid little f-”

The phone is suddenly ripped out of my hand. A familiar hand holds my shoulder. Baz stands in front of me. His face is completely impassive. I know that face, he’s in cold arsehole mode.

“Hello,” Baz says. “This is the man Simon just married. I’m here to tell you that as long as I’m around, you will not hurt him anymore. And you absolutely will not ruin his wedding day, understood? No,” he growls, cold cruelty turning into fury, “ you listen to me, you prick. The second I hang up I’m going to block this number. Don’t contact my husband ever again, or I’ll use all our family’s considerable wealth and influence to ruin your goddamn life. Goodbye.”

Baz hangs up and blocks the number, just like he said he would. Then he immediately wraps his arms around me. I sink into his embrace and bury my face in his shoulder, racked with full body sobs. Baz just keeps holding me.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s over. He won’t hurt you anymore. It’s alright, love.”

“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I-I shouldn’t have answered, I’m-”

“None of that, love. It wasn’t your fault. You haven’t heard from him in six years, of course you wouldn’t think it was him.”

I sniffle very unattractively. “H-He saw a photo, of us, today. He asked why he wasn’t invited, and I told me the real reason, a-and he went off at me, and I-

“Shh, it’s alright, I heard. You stood up for yourself, you courageous fuck. I’m so goddamn proud of you.”

“You-You heard?”

“Yes. Well, the last part. I saw you go stiff and I got worried so I got closer, but I didn’t want to step in unless you needed me. I heard the of your amazing speech to him, and I thought everything would be alright. I was walking away when I heard you crying. I don’t know what he said, love, but I don’t care. Whatever it was, he will never talk to you like that again. I promise, okay?”

I nod against his shoulder. “O-Okay.”

We stand there for awhile, me gripping his suit and him stroking my hair. Baz keeps holding me up, like he always has for me, like I have for him too. Without a second thought, I tilt my head up to kiss him. It’s not hard or forceful, just firm. Baz kisses me back, swiping his thumb across my cheek and holding my waist. Our lips slowly slide together. Baz pulls me even closer. With every passing second of him kissing me, all my old fears melt away. They go back into the past where they belong. My father can’t hurt me anymore. He never will again, not as long as Baz is here. I’m glad Baz feels grounded with me. Because I absolutely feel grounded with him too.

We pull apart, even though I’d gladly kiss him forever. “Come on,” he whispers, “only a few more photos and we get to go to the reception.”

I nod, weaving my fingers with his. “Alright. Thank you.”

He places a last peck on my temple. “Anytime, love.”

We go back to the group. Gran notices my face immediately. She takes out her ever present handkerchief and dabs under my eyes and tells me to blow my nose with it. Penny squeezes my hand, Micah puts an arm around me, and Agatha gives me a sympathetic look. None of them why I was crying. I’m very grateful, because if I talk about it I’ll start crying again. I’ll tell them later though. They deserve to know.

The rest of the photos go off without a hitch. Well, not any big hitches. Micah gives me bunny ears in one photo, which makes Agatha snort and Penny roll her eyes with a smile. Dev, Niall, and Mordelia lift Baz up on his side, causing my lovely husband to let out a string of curses at them in both English and Greek. We get a final picture with all our family and friends, who are family too. Not my father, though. I don’t need him. These are the people I care about, and care about me in return, far more than he ever did.

———————————————

The reception is held in the Event Hall dining room. It’s covered in similar decorations, lots of pink and black everywhere. I love it. It's sort of how our flat is decorated, honestly. Our wedding parties sit at the head table, but we have to go “work the room” as Baz calls it.

“I want food,” I whine.

“We’ll get food soon, love,” Baz sighs. “We just have to go be nice to people.

“People are gross.”

Baz giggles, leaning against me. “That’s my line.”

I lean into him more. “We’re married, so what’s mine is yours now, remember?”

He giggles again. It’s a really pretty sound. “I suppose you have a point.”

I kiss him quickly, and we go off towards the tables. Everyone is very nice, congratulating us, wishing us a happy marriage. Ebb is weepy of course, saying how proud she is of me after all I went through, and I thank her for being here and always being my friend. I pick up my little cousin while Baz talks to one of his uncles, and she tries to take off my flower crown and rip my hair out. I don’t mind. She’s too adorable to stay mad at. Baz’s Aunt Fiona gives us both huge bear hugs and messes up our hair. We spent so much time with her during uni she’s pretty much become my aunt too. My art school friends ask if I’m going to make a wedding sketch series like I mentioned. One of Baz’s older relatives asks when we’re going to have a baby, because "the gays can do that now, right?" We get away from her quite quickly. It’s an enjoyable, slightly exhausting whirlwind.

Eventually, we finally get to sit and eat. I fall into my chair with a groan.

“Tired, Si?” Penelope asks with a smirk.

“Shut up,” I grumble.

“Now you know how I felt at my wedding, Si. Bloody exhausting affair, getting married.”

“Amen, Penny.”

The catering staff brings out the first course, French onion soup, and I immediately drink it down. Baz tells me to slow down but I’m so fucking hungry. I was so nervous this morning I barely ate. I wolf down the main course too. It’s chicken cordon bleu, Baz’s favourite. Honestly, it’s sort of become my favourite too. Some of his posh tastes have rubbed off on me in our eleven years, of course. Some of my tastes have rubbed off on him too. He really likes sour cherry scones now, which I find absolutely amazing.

Before the cake, our parents/caregivers go up and do speeches. Gran goes first. She talks about how glad she was to take care of, what a good person I am, and how elated she is that I’ve found happiness in art and with Baz. She says she looks forward to seeing more of the incredible things I do. I hug her fiercely, thanking her again for everything she’s given me. I can never thank her enough for that.

Mr. Grimm goes next. He’s stoic of course but very sweet, saying he’s glad Baz is happy with me. At the very end, he admits that he hasn’t always been the best father, but he’s very proud of the man Baz has become and Natasha would’ve been too. I grip Baz’s hand very tight at that. I can see him holding back a lot of tears. (Years of therapy has helped with a lot of his guilt over his mum’s death, but it’s still a hard subject.) Baz thanks his father, and even hugs him. Wow. That usually only happens at Christmas after a glass of wine.

Penny of course makes a speech too. She’s equal parts sarcastic and kind, saying how she really fucking hated people until she met me. That I'm a very good friend who she's glad she met. And even though she didn’t like Baz at first, she’s seen how happy he makes me, so she’ll let him stick around.

“It’s not like I’ll go anywhere she tells me to,” he mutters with a pleased smile. I sigh heavily. These two, my god, what am I going to do with them?

Dev and Niall make a speech together. They tell embarrassing stories about Baz from their childhood together, making Baz glare and flush. I try to stifle my laughter but it’s useless. They say I'm the best influence on Baz, and he's been far happier since almost the moment he met me, even before we were together. That's nice to hear. The pair congratulates us at the end, wishing us years of wedded bliss. And Baz does smile. So he’s not that mad, really.

“Time for cake?” I eagerly ask.

“Yes,” Baz says with a smile, “time for cake.”

The caterers roll in the huge three layer cake. Keeping with the theme, it’s black and pink with lots of flowers. They’re super realistic looking even though they’re made from sugar. I want to eat all of them. Baz and I cut it together to a round of polite applause. The cake is cherry red velvet. I didn’t know that flavour existed until we started look at different kinds of cakes. Baz and I agreed to it almost immediately. So of course I eat three slices.

“Simon, you’re going to be sick,” Agatha says.

“I’ll live,” I reply, waving my fork.

“Will you really?” Baz drawls sarcastically. “Because I am not dealing with cherry scented vomit. Again.”

My cheeks go bright red. “That was one time! How was I supposed to know cherry flavoured beer was a bad idea?!”

“Because the name itself sounds like regret,” Penelope oh so helpfully adds in.

“Exactly, Bunce.”

I stick out my tongue at both of them. “Like you’re one to talk,” I grumble, “you fell off your motorbike while trying to pop a wheelie on a hill.”

It’s Baz’s turn to look embarrassed, flush crawling up his pretty face. Dev, Niall, and Mordelia all start laughing at him. Not even Baz's glare shuts them up. “That was one time,” he grumbles.

I put my hand over his, spinning his ring around. “Yup. Aren’t we a pair, love?”

He chuckles and flips his hand over, lacing our fingers together. “That we are, darling, that we are.”

Once we’re done the cake, we’re told it’s time for our first dance. I’m a bit nervous because I’m a pretty terrible dancer. Baz and I have been practicing in preparation for today, but I’m still nervous. I hope I don’t fuck it up.

We stand in the middle of the dance floor. The room gets a bit dimmer, replaced with coloured lights, making everything a bit more quiet and romantic. Baz looks at me, half his face illuminated in silver and pink light. His smile is literally shining. As if he could get anymore dazzling. His arm wraps around my waist, I hold his leather clad shoulder, and our hands stick out together. His ring presses into my skin again. I like that, a lot.

“Ready?” he asks.

“No,” I chuckle, “but let’s do it.”

The music starts. It’s an acoustic version of one of Baz’s weird pop punk love songs. I like things soft and he likes things punk, it’s a happy middle ground, like the rest of our relationship. And we start dancing.

Honestly, it’s barely more than swaying. We move in a small circle on the smooth floor. But I don’t step his feet, which is a vast improvement from usual. There’s barely any room between us, just how I like it. The song floats through the air, surrounding us in it’s quiet melody and soft lyrics.

Suddenly, I’m 17 all over again, dancing with Baz in my room to Troye Sivan the night before he might’ve left. I was so terrified back then, desperate to keep Baz with me, and he was desperate to keep me too. That night was such a teen romance cliche, but I don’t regret it at all, and neither does Baz. Thankfully, we aren’t scared anymore. We’ve known for a long time that neither of us are going anywhere. And I’m reminded of that by the way he looks unflinchingly in the eye. I don’t look away either. I quickly realise there’s something I still haven’t said today.

“I love you,” I say, quietly, just as the song ends.

Baz’s grin gets even wider. He leans down, forehead pressed to mine. Everyone is cheering around us, but all I hear is his voice.

“I know,” he whispers, “I love you too.”

We keep our foreheads together for another moment. Unfortunately I can’t snog him silly right now. Maybe later. (Definitely later.) We bow to our adoring friends and family. They all look so happy. There’s barely a trace of Davy’s words left in my mind. He can’t ruin today. He can’t ruin anything anymore and never will again. My life is too strong to let him.

We invite everyone to come to the dance with us. The music picks up into one of my favourite pop tunes. I’m almost immediately jumping to the beat. My crown nearly flies off I’m so enthusiastic, making Baz snort with laughter. Soon everyone is dancing happily. Agatha is actually literally swing dancing with her girlfriend, laughing loudly. I dance with everyone I can. Swanning about with Gran, jumping with my groom’s maids and man, letting my little cousin stand on my feet. I see Baz doing similar things with his friends and family. He’s doing a sort of waltz with Daphne, and I’m chatting with my uncle. We smile at each other. It may just be my mind tricking me, but I swear my ring warms up a bit.

———————————————

“Have you got enough clothes?” Gran asks.

“Yes, Gran,” I reply.

“Toiletries?”

“Yes.”

“Food? You do get hungry-”

“Gran,” I hold both her hands firmly, “I’m fine. I’ve got everything we need, alright?”

She takes a deep breath, though her mouth is still a thin line. “I’m just unsure how you and Basil can fit all you need in that backpack.”

She indicates my camping bag, which is, in my opinion, quite large enough. “I promise you, Gran, it’s fine. Plus we’ve got Baz’s enormous tail bag too. You could fit a country in there.”

“No complaining about the tail bag when it’s going to hold all your snacks, Salisbury,” Baz says from where he’s sitting on his bike. He was talking to Dev and Niall, but he has damn super hearing, the wonderful bastard. I stick my tongue out at him.

I look back at Gran, who’s still nervous. I step closer. “We’ll be fine. If we don’t have something we need, we’ll just pick it up along the way.”

“Will you be safe though?”

“I’ve ridden on Baz’s motorcycle many times before and I’m still here.”

She frowns, obviously annoyed. “Not for three weeks straight across the UK and Ireland. What if it breaks down?”

“Baz just got a tune up, but if there are any problems, he'll fix them. He's got his toolkit in the infinite tail bag.”

"What about your jobs?"

"The community centre loves me. They were more than happy to give me a month off for my honeymoon. And Baz isn't teaching any summer courses this year so the university doesn't need him until late August."

"What if you get lost?"

"Baz has stuff memorized and we've got GPS, but," I pat my enormous bag, "I've also got a physical map in here with our route drawn out in case our phones die."

“Alright...”

She still looks very nervous, because of course she is. Gran shows her love by fussing. The day I moved to London she was a nervous mess. I wish she wouldn’t worry, but I appreciate her caring. I kiss her forehead.

“I’ll be alright, Gran,” I say. “We'll be back here having dinner with you and everyone else before you know it. Okay?” Watford Cove is our last stop before going back to London, of course. We’ll be having a big feast with both sides of the family. It’ll certainly be a good end to a long trip.

That makes some of the tension fall from her body. “Okay. Call me when you can?”

“Of course.” I look to my left, at Penny, Micah, and Agatha. “And you guys will keep the flat in order right? And make sure Cherry is good? He gets jumpy so you’ve got to play with him for a little while. And he needs two meals a day. And-”

“We know, Si,” Penny says, rolling her eyes.

“We’ve got your checklists,” Micah adds in.

“First week and a half will be mine and Felicia's job,” Agatha says, repeating what we agreed on. “Then we'll go back to California and I’ll hand off cat and house sitting duties to Penelope and Micah for the next week and a half.”

“And I’m taking yours and Basil’s suits home for safe keeping,” Gran says cheerily.

I grin. Of course I already knew all that, but it’s good to hear it again. “Awesome. We’ll call to check in, and call us if you need to.”

Penny waves dismissively. “Don’t call us, Si. Everything will be fine. Go enjoy your honeymoon. We’ll clean up the reception, hold onto your fancy clothes, and take care of your nightmare pet well, trust us.”

I pout. “Cherry isn’t a nightmare, just energetic.”

“Mhm, right.” She pushes lightly on my shoulders. “Now go have fun. And don’t crash into anything, please.”

“Don’t insult my driving, Bunce.” Baz calls back. “I’ve had a motorbike for over a decade and haven’t crashed once.”

“But you’ve almost crashed more times than I can remember.”

Baz glares harder. But he holds out his hand, and Penny takes it. They shake once. “See you in three weeks, Bunce,” he says with a small smile. “Thank you, for everything.”

She shakes back, smiling too. “You’re welcome. Now get on with your honeymoon.”

“Will do, if Simon can get going.” He raises his eyebrow at me. I huff, blowing hair from my eyes.

“Hold your horses, we’ve got time”

“It’s getting dark, love. And we should get to the first hotel soon if we want to stay on schedule.”

“There’s a schedule?” Agatha asks a bit astounded.

“Oh yeah,” I snort. “Baz has our road trip planned down to bathroom breaks. For a punk, he loves to be all structured and shit.”

Baz holds his nose up, looking extremely snooty. “I like to know where I’m going, sue me. And you liked the trip schedule when I showed it to you, so fuck off, love.”

“I don’t think marriage is going to change much for you too,” Penelope chuckles quietly.

“Yeah,” I sigh dreamily with a big grin, “I know.”

Even though he’s a prick (I adore him, but he is), Baz has a point. We need to get going. I hug Gran, Agatha, Penny, and Micah as tight as I can. Baz hugs Malcolm, Daphne, Dev, Niall, Mordelia, and his other siblings. They stand together in front of the Event Hall, the lights from the end of the reception still shining from the windows. I zip up my floral leather jacket (20th birthday present from Baz) all the way up, put on my riding gloves over my ring, and secure my pale blue helmet. Baz throws on his own jet black helmet. It has silver vines that I painted on. I’m very proud of it. I sit on the bike and wind my arms around his waist, like I have a hundred times before, and like I will a hundred times more.

Baz looks at me over his shoulder, a glint in his beautiful eyes and a playful smirk on on his mouth.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

I almost say, I’d go anywhere with you, but that feels just a bit too cheesy. Maybe I’ll say it later. For now, I just nod, and say, “yeah, let’s get going.”

His smiles wider, and puts a hand on his visor. “Allons-y,” he says.

He still says that all the time, eleven years after our first kiss. I’m reminded of that night every time he says it. And I love it.

“Allons-y,” I reply.

We flip down our visors, give one last wave to our loved ones, and drive off into the dying light of the late of the evening. Baz drives us through Main Street. I recognise the places. Ms. Pritchard’s Bakery, the drug store with my favourite nail varnish, the park where I asked Baz to be my boyfriend, the ice cream parlour we all went to after graduating high school and then later uni, and a familiar hill in the distance; Where Mt. Olympus is, where I first kissed Baz, and where he proposed to me last Christmas. The memories race through my mind as we race through the streets.

Baz takes us up a hill. I get a lovely view of the entire town. It looks beautiful at night, with lights like stars and the sparkling lake in the distance. I hold Baz even tighter. I’m so unbelievably grateful for what I found in Watford Cove.

———————————————

Awwwww totally cheesy, I know. They deserve cheesy goodness after all the shit they went through. And here's a little insight into their future lives: yes, Baz is a university professor, but he refuses to change his fashion sense. He teaches a first year English 101 course (his hell) and a third year queer literature course (his heaven). He's everyone's fave prof because of how badass and sarcastic he is. Simon works at a community center with little children while still doing art on the side. He loves making kids happy and tries to be the kind of person for them that Ebb was for him growing up. For art, he does showings at local galleries, sells prints at hipster markets, and posts stuff on his tumblr blog. Simon and Baz are obviously still pretty damn in love. They have a date night once a week, drive around London on Baz's motorbike all the time, love to snuggle on the couch together to watch TV, all while living in a pastel pink flat covered in punk posters along with their nightmare cat, Cherry. In summary, they're very happy.

Two other things: this is the design I based their rings off of, and this is the song they dance to. Y'all might recognise it as the song where the title for one of the chapters of Watford Cove came from :) It's one of my fave songs ever so I'm absolutely projecting lol.

Thanks for reading, hope you liked this glimpse into the future of my punk/pastel Simon and Baz. I certainly enjoyed writing it. Watford Cove has always been one of my faves so returning to that world was nice. So that's it for the requests. Black Swan will keep updating, I'm currently working on the warlock and knight fic and that will hopefully be finished in a couple weeks, baring any school or health complications, and I'll def be opening requests again in May. Thanks a million to those who requested stuff. And just as big a thanks to everyone who liked, reblogged, commented, and/or left kudos on the fics. It's been a blast. See you guys next time :)

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #agatha wellbelove #micah #ruth salisbury #watford cove #fluff #light angst #mysnowbazfic

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amphtaminedreams · 5 years

Text

All The Tattoos I Couldn’t Really Afford

Hi to anyone who’s reading!

I thought I’d write about my tattoos a lil bit.

Partly because I’d like to talk generally about tattoos and what they mean for people who have dealt with self-harm and poor body image and partly because I get questions now and again about the more practical side of things; who did them, how much did they hurt and probably the most frequent one, how much did they cost (I mean, only my entire livelihood and every last spare pound I had for about 2 years but nbd)? The point being that I can put all this information in one place, especially as I don’t plan to get any more in the foreseeable future.

See, as much as I get tired of people I don’t really know commenting on them, I suppose I did kind of bring it upon myself. Facially, I probably look about 15. I get told I'm exaggerating when I say that BUT I WAS STILL BUYING CHILD’S TICKETS ON THE BUS UP UNTIL LAST YEAR BC AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR £2.60 SINGLES. Where do you live for a bus single to cost £2.60 I hear you ask? In a tory heartland, my friend.

Anyway, the point is that I look pretty young to have a sort-of sleeve and tbh, I am. I’d say that for a lot of people, a sleeve is something you build on kinda throughout your life, not something you plan on getting pretty much the minute you turn 18. That isn’t exactly how it was for me either. I was more like 20 when I started on my left arm, lol. I started on the rest when I was 18 and had known most of the tattoos I wanted to get since I was about 14/15, so for quite a while. I think I always associated a tattooed version of me with a version of myself I liked and respected a lot more than the girl I saw myself as at that age, but I didn’t realise just how true that would be. The tattoos definitely aren’t the reason I’m so much more body confident than I was back then; I’m at a weight I feel more comfortable in, I’ve learned how to do my makeup better and I think I’ve grown into myself more. Plus, I got my braces off, which helps. The constant fear of having food in my teeth hardly conjures up a sense of nostalgia, lol. On top of that, seeing a wider and more diverse range of faces and body types celebrated online and in the media has definitely helped me too.

But one thing that I noticed is how much more respect having tattoos gives me for my own body. When you have talented men and women’s art all over you, it makes you feel like less of a body and more of a blank sheet. I think the attention moves away from the parts underneath that you might not like so much to something you don’t necessarily associate with yourself. It helps me to notice myself more objectively, with appreciation taking the place of scrutiny. And with regards to self-harm, on a practical level, I don’t want to damage somebody else’s hard work.

The first tattoo I actually got, about a month or so after I turned 18 was pretty simple. I found the studio by way of recommendation from someone who’s tattoo I liked, which imo is probably the best route to go down for your first one. Word of mouth is generally a pretty good indicator of what to expect.

The 5 planet formation on the back of my neck was based on a Tumblr photo I’d saved on my phone, though in the original design I believe the planets were on the person’s chest.

PROTIP: If you’re getting a tattoo based on something you found on Pinterest, Google Images or Tumblr, the best thing to do is first to probably make a note of the artist and ideally ask them for their permission. This is something I wish I’d done at the time; the majority of my tattoos are based on images I found on the sites I just mentioned and saved without thinking and I generally deleted the photos once I sent them to the tattoo artist. Understandably, artists see it as respect thing to credit them and if I do ever come across the designs some of my tattoos are based on, I will of course make sure to add their details to this post, BUT to be completely honest, nobody outside of the internet is that bothered if you copied a tattoo you saw on Pinterest one time.

I think the best thing to do is to ask your tattoo artist to put their own spin on a design and add to it, which is what I’ve generally done, and that way you should avoid anyone feeling like their work has been stolen. I like that approach anyway, especially if you’re going back to the same person for all your tattoos; it adds a consistency to them.

This being my first tattoo, there wasn’t really much of a deeper meaning behind it. I liked the way it looked and wanted something simple that could easily be covered. I got this done by dclxvi.tattoo on Instagram, and it cost around £40. In terms of pain, there wasn’t much at all. I thought it was going to be a lot worse from what others had told me, and more than anything I could feel the vibration of the needle. I’d give it a 1/10 on the pain threshold.

My second was the quote on my left side over my ribcage which reads “think deeply, speak gently, give freely and be kind”. This came from one of those cheesy typical middle class white people signs we usually put in our kitchens; we currently have about 6 and counting in ours. The full quote is “Think deeply, speak gently, love much, laugh a lot, work hard, give freely and be kind” but I thought that was a bit long winded so I kept the parts I liked. I suppose the meaning meaning of this is pretty self-explanatory, lol! When I was younger and still even now with the people I’m close to, I worry way too fucking much what people think of me. It’s a very cliche saying but at some point, I learnt that what others say about you says more about them than it does about you. From then, I started realising that as long as I know I do my best to treat people well, that’s the important thing and this tattoo is kind of just a reminder of that. IIRC, this one cost about £60 and was with the same artist as my first. She was really lovely and made me feel very comfortable so I went back to her for this one, and my next couple too. Again, even though it was on my ribs, I’d give it a 1/10 for pain.

I kinda lose track but I’m pretty sure it was over the summer of my 18th that I got the 3 you can see in the photo above, all still by the same artist. The first on this area of my arm was the quote “love yourself so no-one else has to” inside the heart/feminine symbol hybrid. Similarly, it’s quite self-explanatory but if I had to expand on it, it’s just a reminder that it’s not about what other people think and that as long as I’m happy in myself and BY myself, that’s what matters. This was around the £40 mark and I vaguely remember tattoos getting slightly more painful around this point as we’re getting into musclier territory. Not to make out I have guns or anything, lol, but I’ve always found that tattoos that are on top of muscle are the most difficult to sit through, still though I’d give it a 2/10 for pain. Shortly after I got the crystal ball with the quote underneath. The crystal ball is pretty much a copy of a tattoo I found on Pinterest by the tattoo artist Emily Malice/@emilymalice on Instagram:

I then chose a quote to add underneath it to make it my own which was: “it’s not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves”. It’s the modernised version of a quote from the Shakespeare play Julius Caesar, and basically sums up the idea that if we want something, we have to go and get it ourselves. I’m not really a believer in fate or destiny or the idea that the universe has a bigger plan for us and though that might sound really pessimistic, I find it empowering in that we can go out and make our lives into anything we want them to be. Of course there are things that are out of our hands but for the most part, it’s down to us; I’m on that inner locus of control shit. And yes I remembered that from A-level psychology, lol. On the pain scale, also a 2/10.

Next was my Lana tattoo. Imagine copious amounts of the heart eyes emoji here. It’s based on this drawing:

Which I cannot find the artist of fucking ANYWHERE. The image is all over the bloody internet and returned about 30 different results on TinEye but I can’t for the life of me find the original version so if anybody knows, lmk!

Anyway, it was my first of 2 Lana tattoos and it’s probably my favourite of them all. I’ve been a hardcore stan of this woman since I was about 12 and Video Games went viral (yes, I was a very pretentious 12 year old/general human being) and her music has been my soundtrack to EVERYTHING for the last 7/8 years. I’m a basic bitch and so Born to Die: Paradise Edition and Ultraviolence are still my favourite albums of hers but I wanted to pay tribute to the Lust for Life cover with the flowers in the hair because it represented her moving towards inner peace and contentment and I loved that.

COST: approx. £70

PAIN: 2/10

That was my last tattoo for a while until about November 2018, from which point onwards I was getting them pretty much constantly up until a few months ago. I was no longer at uni, had a part time job and for the first time had proper disposable income, so I got my first proper “piece” tattoo:

This one I very shittily designed myself, though the lip part was based on this tattoo by Heidi Kaye/@heidikayetattoo on Instagram:

The lips were always going to be the centrepiece though it was originally a much bigger design. The idea was that it would be a piece based around the elements, water, earth, air and fire, with the things that represents each being something sentimental to me. Well, apart from the lips which would represent the passion of the fire signs; I just thought they looked cool, lol. On a less shallow note, the butterflies, which represent air (along with the moons), I associate with my mum as she’s always wearing butterfly patterned outfits and jewellery. Yeah, I don’t know how you can claim a whole ass insect either but apparently they’re her thing! And similarly, the scorpion is for my sister; it represents water, scorpio being a water sign. She and I used to watch Orphan Black together and took to affectionately calling each other “sestra” instead of sister like the Ukranian character Helena pronounces it in the show. At one point, I believe it’s season 3, her character hallucinates a scorpion (don’t ask, that show was pretty wack at times), hence the scorpion tattoo. Lastly, the flowers and the agate rock represent earth, which is the home of my sun and moon sign. There were originally going to be a lot more details to the piece but I wanted to keep it on the back of my arm and when I showed it to my new tattoo artist, Matt Cassy (cassytattoo on Instagram), he simplified it for me so that it would fit. It cost around £140 and took the longest time yet, but I’d give it a 1/10 for pain and it’s my favourite tattoo after my Lana one, probably because it’s the most individual.

Next after this was my sunflower and it took me to one of kindest and most talented people I’ve ever met! I’m pretty sure this was the first one she did for me and from this point onwards, I went back to Bianca Kidd (biancakiddtattoo on Instagram) for 90% of my tattoos. It’s a pretty basic piece but I really wanted a tattoo on my shoulder and preferably something that will never really go “out of style”. Flower tattoos are so simple but the absolute prettiest imo and I don’t think I’ll ever look back on this one and be like “what was I thinking?” I got Bianca to add the stars which were SUPPOSED to be in the form of the constellations of my sun, moon and rising signs, Capricorn, Virgo and what I thought was Scorpio but turns out is actually Cancer. Shoulda known considering how much of a needy, over-emotional twat I am, lol. On the one hand, it seems kinda contradictory to my crystal ball tattoo quote to believe in astrology but on the other, I think there might be something to the time of year a person is born and the environmental factors that come with that (climate, financial patterns etc.) affecting a person’s temperament slightly. It could all be a load of BS, considering the vagueness of most star signs and our tendency to want to agree with positive statements about ourselves, and I DEFINITELY don’t believe in the stars having any impact on your future or fate but it’s still fun to read about either way. Would be even funner if I didn’t have regrets about getting my natal chart wrong and being sure enough that Scorpio was my rising sign to get a tattoo referencing it every time I did, but there you go. If anyone asks, the placement of the stars is TOTALLY. RANDOM.

COST: approx. £140

PAIN: I find that even if a tattoo isn’t in a super painful position, your skin begins to get a little raw and thus more sensitive when it’s under a needle for a long period of time so 3/10

Next was the snakey boy on the inside of my right arm which I got just before Christmas, again by Bianca:

I don’t have much to say about this one other than it’s pretty much a copy of one I saw on Pinterest that I’d saved quite a while before (unfortunately I can’t find it anywhere now but if anybody does know the source lmk!) because I fricken love snakes and think they’re cute and misunderstood af. Not as cute as cats but definitely up there. Bianca changed it slightly by adding the dots around the rose and we went from there, and the main thing I remember is that this one actually hurt. Close to the armpit and on top of the muscle is a bad combination and I’m totally in awe of the madmen that go right into the pit itself. It cost £80 and for pain I’d give it an 8/10.

Cop the exact same pose only with the other arm instead, but I also got my mermaid around this time:

She was done by Polly (biffinx on instagram) who’s an apprentice tattoo artist. If you are looking for a slightly cheaper tattoo, apprentices are a good shout, as they usually charge slightly less, though in Polly’s case are equally as skilled at what they do; you’re also helping them build their portfolio so it’s a win-win situation for both you and the tattoo artist. That being said, make sure you do your research and get someone who’s good at the style you’re looking for before you commit. Instagram is often your best bet, and if not, tattoo shops often have websites with photo galleries showcasing each artist’s work. It might take you a while to find what you’re looking for but you really can’t compromise when you’re talking about something that’s probably going to be on your body forever. NBD. I got the mermaid as a nod to both growing up by the sea and how much I loved to swim when I was younger. I feel like I’m going to end up saying this far too many times but she’s one of my favourites.

COST: £60

PAIN: 8/10

I also got the other 3 tattoos on my upper right arm during this time. Bianca did the satanic kitty (can’t find the source of the tattoo it was based on! again, if anyone does lmk!), because of course I had to have a cat tattoo, and that was around £50 and a 3/10 on the pain scale. The two shells, which again are a reminder of where I grew up, were done by Terry Weeks (terryweekstattoo on Instagram) and cost £70 for both. I’d give them a 2/10 for pain.

Next were my knee and calf tattoo in February of this year, for which I went back to Matt Cassy:

He did the two of them for £140 and it took around 3 hours. Palm trees always remind me of California which I absolutely love, and the spider’s web was kinda just because...spooky, ya know? Honestly, I hate spiders and I equally hate that it gave the old man on the bus the inspiration to make the joke (imagine this being said in a strong Dorset accent) “you’ve got ae spiderr on yerr leg” at me that one time on the bus. Plus, I’d give my knee tattoo a strong 9/10 for pain. Realistically, it probably wasn’t any more painful than the inner upper arm tattoos but you have the added burden of suppressing your reflexes; when somebody is carving into the skin on your leg, it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that your knee jerk reaction is to...well, kick that person in the face. Or away from you at least. I also got the elbow pit tattoo on my left arm from Bianca around this time for £160. 8/10 for pain on that one.

And then, there was the 10/10 in March. The things I do for Miss Lana Del fucking Rey.

Because the Just Ride tattoo above my knees HURT. I wasn’t expecting it at all but BLOODY HELL. My tattoo artist actually had to get the numbing spray out for this one. It was, again, the combined effect of it being on top of muscle and the need to resist my reflexes so that I didn’t flinch, which clearly I didn’t do a very good job at, hence the spray. I think my reaction at the time was kind of, what the fuck, has this stuff always existed? But the more you can put off asking for the spray, the better, because used in large quantities it can be pretty dangerous. This was the only tattoo I felt I did need it for because I literally couldn’t sit still and there was a risk of me jogging the tattoo artist, Megan, the amazing @bunnystattoos on Instagram. Her stuff is adorable and she has such a strong vision and brand and if I was going to get another, I’d love to just give her a starting point and see where she’d take it from there. Like, I’m not a Star Wars fan but LOOK at this set she designed for someone else:

I also got my Dream On tattoo with her in the same session and in total she charged me £110 for both which is pretty reasonable considering how in demand she is (and how much of a total baby I was about the Just Ride tattoo). I chose lyrics from Ride because lyrically, it’s probably one of my favourite songs of hers, plus the opening 30 seconds are pure magic.

Megan also did the linework orchid lady on the back of my arm around the same time:

I suppose you could say this is my most “meaningful” tattoo, because it was inspired by something my care-coordinator said to me about my diagnosis of BPD. In amongst all the other less than complimentary comments, she told me that it just means we need a little more care and sensitivity than others, like orchids do in comparison to other flowers, but that that doesn’t make us any less deserving of care or less beautiful. Basically, in the right circumstances, we can bloom too. And I liked that.

This one cost £80 and was about a 3/10 for pain. I can’t find any photos of the tattoo it was based on so for the millionth time, if you do know, hmu.

From April-May I got a shitload of tattoos and to be honest, I can’t really remember what order it was in so I’m going to group them into artists. First, the ones I got from Polly:

The anatomical heart I got in March and was based on this tattoo by Harry Plane (@harry.plane on Instagram):

COST: £50

PAIN: 7/10

And the sun and moon kissing was also around £50. 2/10 for pain.

Bianca did a few for me too, starting with the floral design on my lower left arm around March, which was probably my biggest piece yet:

The floral piece started off as a 4/10 though it creeped up to a 6 the closer it got to my wrist. Going over raised scars is also slightly more painful, something to bear in mind. Along with the Keep It Cute tattoo (6/10) on my wrist:

It came to £180.

Bianca also did the linework of my favourite GIF, like, ever.

Yes, it’s Go Go Yubari from Kill Bill about to try and maim The Bride, who don’t get me wrong I am perennially rooting for, but come on. It’s an iconic moment in film history Once Upon a Time in Hollywood wishes it could replicate. 4/10 for pain due to it being over scarring, otherwise we’re talking about the kind of placement that’s a reliable 2/10. I also got wrapped into the whole renaissance inspired trend and got Bianca to do me a little cherub gap filler based on this flash sheet I found on Google Images (link to the image found here https://creativemarket.com/Sonulkaster/280110-Angels-and-Cupids-collection.?utm_source=Pinterest&utm_medium=CM):

I suggested the cigarette as a cheeky little addition, lol! I’d give it a 5/10 for pain, being close to the inside of my arm n all and it set me back around £40. Unfortunately, I don’t have any great quality photos of it that I haven’t already used in the post but here’s one where you can see it a little bit (idk why my hair looks so brown and basically my natural colour in this photo but I DO NOT APPROVE, it is not at all fitting with my wannabe mildly goth aesthetic):

Finally, we have my last 2 tattoos.

See, getting my finger tattoos done was an absolute necessity before I went inter-railing and not because I’m an over-dramatic bitch who wanted a little something to make my multitude of me-holding-food photos more aesthetically pleasing (though of course it helped on that count), but because I made the fucking huge mistake of trying to stick and poke them myself. To be fair, they weren’t THAT bad at first. Like I was pretty pleased with them. Buuuut they faded super quickly and I guess that’s the issue with stick and pokes, especially on your fingers, where even professional tattoos are a bit of a flight risk anyway. So, after having to go over them a million times and spilling Indian ink all over my laptop keyboard, I decided to admit defeat and get Bianca to go over them for me. It cost £30 and I’d only give it a 4/10 on the pain scale. After months of having to explain my shitty faded finger tattoos to everyone and convince far too many customers at work that they weren’t just drawn on with a sharpie, I’m finally happy with them. Lesson learnt. Don’t stick and poke kids, especially not near your laptop.

Lastly is my “Wouldst Thou Like to Live Deliciously?” quote that Polly did for me:

The cost of this tattoo? £30. Having to explain to every person who hasn’t seen The VVitch what it actually says and then what it means too? Priceless. Hotel? Tri-

I joke. It’s actually very annoying having to explain what it says and vague what it means, not because I don’t EXACTLY know but also because I feel like a snobby film hoe (which is quite an accurate description of me) every time I do. The VVitch is super good, guys. Please watch if you’ve got the patience, it’s a slow burn.

Anyways, I hope anybody who read to the end enjoyed the post and found it informative! If you have any other tattoo questions, shoot me a message and I will definitely respond. I think one of the most common things I get is people saying they’re too indecisive to get a tattoo and that they want one, but are worried they’ll go off it. What I think is that once you get your first, getting a tattoo starts to feel like less of a momentous decision. Like there are tattoos I have that I probably wouldn’t get now but that doesn’t mean I regret them because, although it sounds cheesy, they sort of become a part of you and represent what you liked at the time. The more you have, the less significant one individual tattoo is. At the end of the day, are you ever going to regret getting a tiny rose? Worst case scenario, you can always get a cover up or if you’re brave and rich enough (lol), get laser removal. In terms of aftercare, I’ve always been kind of sloppy. Follow the instructions your tattoo artist gives you but also, if you don’t get time to moisturise them, it’s not the end of the world. TRY not to itch them but one tiny scratch isn’t going to permanently damage your tattoo.

One thing I will say, though, that’s probably kind of obvious to everyone but me (being the dumbass I am) is that you should NOT go in the sea right after getting a tattoo. It is literally the equivalent of pouring salt in an open wound and whilst it didn’t ruin my Lana, it really fucking stung for about 3 days afterwards. I’m an endless treasure chest of protips, didn’t you know?

Thank you for reading!

Lauren x

#tattoos #ink #lana del rey #lana #lana del rabies #inkaddict #tattoed girls #ewwhatacringeyhashtag #spooky #spoopy #personalstyle

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miphastudies · 4 years

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17 Questions for 17 People

Thanks @its-bianca for tagging me in this! Sorry it’s taken so long, we’re in a third lockdown and I’m pretty sure my body thinks that time no longer exists.

Nicknames: Kim, Kimbo, Kimberlim, Kimothy, Kimberley Dibberley (For some reason my family thought that a nickname based off Cat’s other personality from Red Dwarf, Dwayne Dibberley, was funny and it’s stuck with me my whole life), as well as KIIII (shouted by my sister when she was about 2 and couldn’t pronounce my name, my best friend now yells it when she wants my attention) and Kim-Kim by my Dad who refuses to believe I’ve grown up (beats Kimberley Dibberley any day)

Height: 5'9 - towering over most men is fun, I suggest it to all of you, I’d rather round it up to six foot, but I probs stopped growing at 20.

Hogwarts House: Well I got Gryffindor when I first went on that site, but being my goth self I had to take the test again until I got Slytherin - as far as I remember I had unicorn hair (or horn?) or something of the like in my wand but I’m not gonna fuel JK’s anti-trans pockets by visiting Pottermore ever again.

Last thing I googled: The soundtrack for Futurama’s Luck of the Fryrish episode, I knew Simple Minds were on it but I could’ve sworn Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty was on it, but apparently not. I spent a good half hour trying to sing it into google with their new song-analysis thing to no avail, so I ended up siphoning through all the songs Lisa Simpson has ever played on her Sax to find out what it was (I should be doing my dissertation proposal but my tutors haven’t got back to me yet so what can ye do).

Song stuck in my head: yknow wha I’m just gonna list the songs that have been stuck in my head so far today because it’s too many to be just one as I keep cycling through them (also gonna link them so you can see how garbo weird my music taste is)

Run - Joji Alive - Pearl Jam Clinging On For Life - The Hoosiers Tension - Avenged Sevenfold Boots of Spanish Leather - Bob Dylan Nutshell - Alice in Chains Jaded - Aerosmith The Sea of Tragic Beasts - Fit For an Autopsy

I’ll add my current favourite at the bottom too for good measure (Honestly I spend way too much time listening to music and I regret nothing)

Number of followers: Currently 85. I’ve got about 2k on my main blog but I’ve not touched that since July 2017.

Amount of sleep: Good lord, so I aim for 8 hours, sometimes I only get 5.5 or something along those lines, other times I depression nap during the day and can’t sleep at all, sometimes (like this morning) I’ll go to get up at a normal person time such as 9am when my body naturally wakes me up, but it’s so dark and gloomy outside and cold in my room that I just stay in bed and end up accidentally falling back asleep. 12pm gang rise up xo

Lucky number: 7

Dream Job: Hopefully I get somewhat successful in monetising my hobbies, I’m working on it all atm (I don’t know why but I really hate telling people about my plans because I’m deathly afraid they’ll mock me or do whatever they can to ensure it doesn’t happen, I’ve got this list of things I need to do for my own mental health sellotaped to my laptop stand that had things like when to clean the house, do my laundry, shower, exercise etc, and my old flatmate/friend saw it the other week and mocked me, so I haven’t followed it since and need to find some sort of other way of organising my life instead). But yeah, hopefully hobby based, I don’t want to be stuck in an office job all my life, and I want to leave the UK (although I don’t want to leave my family) so hopefully I’ll be successful enough to bring em all with me.

Wearing: Well I was gonna wear jeans and my Unus Annus longsleeve but I decided to go full kitchen witch and wear this black milkmaid looking dress with long sleeves that I’d bought for work when I got my thigh tattoo started (all the old men appreciated the legs but I didn’t make any more tips, oops)

Favourite song: My favourite song of all time would be The Verve’s Bittersweet Symphony , the band formed at my college, has great meaning and has resonated with me since I first saw the music video after it was played at my Stepdad’s funeral in 2002. Weirdly enough on my last day of college, right after my last exam, I went to get the bus home - put my Spotify on shuffle (bearing in mind I’ve got 805 songs on this playlist) and this came on straight away. That’s probably not important to most people, but being pagan, I like to think that small things like these are signs from loved ones that have since passed. Not too happy that it’s used as the England Rugby theme because it gives me anxiety every time as though I feel like everyone hearing it doesn’t have the same emotional connection with the song as I do, but idk. I saw Richard Ashcroft live and he played this and I legit bawled my eyes out in public, safe to say I’ll try and hold it in next time. I suggest you all have a listen to the song or even watch the music video for it, it’s the most simple but most meaningful music video to me.

Favourite Instrument: I’m left handed and I had this Yamaha acoustic guitar that my stepdad gave me - and taught me to play when I was about 5, a few months before he died (it’s still weird to me that I had no idea he had cancer at that point and instead spent his last few months teaching me his favourite hobbies) all he had was right handed guitars, so he taught me to play Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters upside down on this 20 odd year old right handed acoustic. He hadn’t played upside down himself before but did it so I could see what he was doing. I remember sitting in our green living room on the couch with him moving my hands to the right position (I don’t know where my mum was in this scenario, probably in the kitchen). He’d brought this guitar with him the first day I met him, it was probably like 11pm but I was 4 and thought it was 3am or something, but I heard voices coming from the living room and had gone to investigate - there sat my mum and my stepdad having Chinese on the living room floor, laughing together, my stepdad saw me and had brought sweets for me and my brother for when we woke up, but he beckoned me over, gave me a lollipop, stuck a two litre bottle of tizer in front of me and told me to dip the lollipop in the drink and lick it (not a good idea as I would’ve been bouncing off the walls, but I think I must’ve had a sugar crash and fallen asleep). My mum had no idea he was coming as he’d sneakily been texting her, asking what her favourite drink was, her favourite food and flowers etc, after they met in a pub when my mum was at a hostel with my brother after my Dad had taken me. My mum told him that the council had given her a place and he decided to show up and surprise her with all her favourite things and play guitar for her after my brother and I had gone to bed, I don’t remember much time passing before we’d moved into his house (where my mum and her new husband live to this day), but they got married a few months later and I still can’t play that Metallica song (I did try to teach myself more of it though). I also had this black left handed Ibanez prestige that my Dad got me for Christmas about 9 years ago, I could play quite a lot on it but eventually just stopped. Very good at piano though.

Aesthetic: I’m not sure what this entails but I’m a sucker for neon/RGB/cityscapes and that type of malarkey. Also space. Love da space. Also whatever Cornwall would be considered as. Cottagecore? I think that’s only an animal crossing related aesthetic but I’m claiming it nonetheless.

Favourite Author: I’m a big goth so it has to be Stephen King by default. I’ve got copious first editions of his books from the 70′s and 80′s that my Mum bought when she was a teen. At my flat I’ve got Carrie, Christine, Salem’s Lot, Misery and The Shining first editions and the others are in my room at my Mum’s house. I don’t tend to read for joy like I used to, or write for fun either but I’m hoping I do more in 2021. Currently reading The Outsider by King, it sounds eerily familiar to a novel I wrote for coursework in college in 2014 and I’m half pressed to think he’s stole my brain ideas. I’m watching you Stephen. Always watching. Always.

Favourite animal sounds: I don’t have favourite sounds, but my husky Nanook is my favourite animal because he’s dumb and I love him. Also Kookaburra sounds are terrifying and you all should go listen to what a koala sounds like. When I go to Adelaide (hopefully this year, if not next) I am NOT stepping foot in a nature reserve unless I’ve got an anti-kookaburra noise suit on. They obviously don’t exist so I’m gonna have to make one.

Random: I’m part of a viking reenactment group where they use actual swords and fight each other, and we have to basically sign our lives away when we join, to say that if we die, it’s not the groups fault. I don’t actually do the fighting though, I’m part of the villager group, so I do all the crafting and food making and most of the teaching when we do shows. I’ve not yet been to a show as I’ve had uni to go to, but my parents, sister and brother do - They stayed within Whitby Abbey last year during the Viking festival where everyone did the show and the adults got drunk round campfires in the castle grounds. Zacky Vengeance once complimented my shirt if that’s something. I’m also colourblind, got glared at by Liam Gallagher in the Liverpool Echo Arena parking lot and have too accurate a sense of smell.

Sorry this was so long, obviously I felt like word-dumping and my brain has a lot to say as I find too much meaning in these things. Thanks again for tagging me! I’ve not got 17 people to tag as I don’t interact with anyone at the moment but I’ll come back to this and add people as the week progresses :)

#tagged #personal #asks

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sept-dix · 7 years

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video producer! kang dongho (part 2)

summary: dongho is a video producer at the company you’re interning at & things happen genre: fluff a/n: here’s a link to part 1 if you haven’t already read it, & thank you for reading!!!

so after that week of training and introduction you interns start getting assigned to do small things in actual projects

bc of this, you don’t spend as much time around dongho anymore unless he’s involved in a project you’re assigned to or if he randomly decides to drop by and see how you’re doing

you’ve gotten close to the other interns as well so you also spent your lunch breaks and stuff with them

you’re also pretty busy with your own work and still trying to learn more, so thoughts about dongho are pushed to the back of your mind

and tbh, you weren’t expecting anything to come out of your little crush anyways bc the way you saw it, he was way out of your league. like he was a senior video producer and he was a couple years older than you and he was so cool and it just didn’t seem like it was possible

so you resorted to just making him your eye candy and looking at him being cute from afar now and then and you were content with that

one day there came this project for you interns to create your own video for the company to evaluate your current skill level and style and stuff. it could be anything you wanted and it could be presented in any way - no restrictions.

you decided to do a tour of the less renowned art galleries in your area, and you were thinking of doing something like a visual tour with no speaking and just light music in the background.

something that would make the viewer focus completely on the art in the video and also be pretty relaxing and pleasant to watch

once you had all the shots you wanted of the galleries down, you started with the editing

but after you had spent a few hours doing that, you realised that the vision you had in your mind for your video required a lot more skill to create than you thought

you needed help

and that’s when a bright idea struck you. why not ask dongho? he had trained you after all

so you went over to his spot in the office and kind of cleared your throat to get his attention and he looked up at you like “whats up”

“um,, i just have a few questions about this thing im editing.,, and i was wondering if you could help me?”

he just chuckled and went sure and your heart was already uncomfortable

anyways he asked you what exactly you wanted to do with the footage and since you had already pictured it so many times in your head you described it to him in great detail

and he just listened to you quietly and it was getting hard for you to finish speaking if he was going to be looking at you with so much focus but you managed somehow

after you finished speaking he was like wow trust my intern to have such high ambitions for the first project

but nonetheless if you were determined to do it he wouldn’t mind helping you

so for the next few days, whenever he had time he came over to give you pointers and tips and teach you some techniques

and you could tell he was being really sincere in helping you so you were very touched and thanks to him your project was coming along pretty good

as you spent more time with him for this project you kind of got closer to him

like you would bring him coffee in the morning as thanks for helping you, and he would give you some snacks now and then

and sometimes when you were together the conversation would turn to more personal things like he would ask you what you were going to study in uni and you would tell him and in return he would tell you more about how his first few years in uni were

(he’s about 3 years older than you & he just finished uni)

sometimes he would be scrolling through instagram or something next to you and he would show you cute videos of animals and stuff and seeing him smiling at puppies was very bad for your heart

anyways one day you were almost done with your video and you decided to just stay behind and finish it up once and for all in the office

most of the others had already left and the place was mostly empty except for a handful of others who were still there working on stuff

you were just thinking about how to add a specific finishing touch that you had in mind

but you were hitting a block so you decided to take a break and you went on your phone

and you saw a post your close friend who was a dancer had just made after a performance

it was basically about how happy she had been dancing on stage and how she can’t wait to explore more and grow as a dancer

her passion was so obvious in the way she talked like she was in love with dance and she would do anything for it

and suddenly you had a thought like,, when were you ever gonna like something that much?

the thought came out of nowhere but it hit you pretty deeply

like you liked what you were doing right now but nowhere as close to how much your friend seemed to love dance

and could you really do something like this for the rest of your life and be happy? would you ever find something you liked as much?

why didn’t you have a burning passion for something

one thought led to another and before you knew it you were kind of in a mess having a crisis

and suddenly it seems like someone turned off the lights and you made a surprised noise

and that someone turned on the lights again like wtf i didn’t know someone was still here and you turned to see dongho standing by the light switch

once he saw you he came over to you like “hey what are you doing still here?”

but right away he saw the expression on your face and he pulled up a chair next to you

“hey, is everything alright? do you have any problems with your video?”

and you shake your head no hastily bc wtf you didn’t want him to know what you were thinking like, it seemed to you that you were upset over something super silly

you thought to yourself maybe your period is coming soon lol

so you just tried to smile and act like everything was alright but he saw right through you

“then what’s wrong?”

and he was kind of looking at you with a concerned look and.

it was just the two of you and suddenly you thought that maybe you could tell him

so you kinda just opened the dam and spilled everything

after you finished everything he was silent for a second just looking at you

and to your horror you felt yourself tearing up

and after a few seconds he started in a quiet voice “y/n, i understand exactly where you’re coming from”

he tells you how it’s okay to feel this way, and that having that kind of focused dream is great and all but just being happy pursuing your own interests no matter how small they are is just as great. and he kind of tells you about how he used to feel the same way a few years back but he’s happy now and if a few years down the road he isn’t anymore, he’ll deal with it then

“as long as you’re happy”

by the time he’s done you’re truly struggling to keep the tears at bay bc wtfsfdhsjfhsjdfh

and seeing you like that he just moves forward and puts his arms around you and at this point your mind is completely blank

also he smells like cedarwood and you die a little more

after you two pull away from the hug there’s a moment of silence where you’re sniffling trying to make yourself not look like a crying mess

and suddenly he says “y/n.. do you want to go out for dinner?”

it kind of comes out of nowhere and in the middle of your tears you’re like WHAT sdjfksjdf is he aSKING ME OUT???!?! IN THIS MIDDLE OF THIS MESS ?!!

all you can do is look at him and nod like omgmk sure

and he helps you save your video while you go to the restroom to make yourself look acceptable again and the whole time your brain is going wtfdf is this really happening

and when you’re ready you follow him out of the office and just as he switches off the lights and the whole place is covered in darkness, he slips his hand into yours

#kang dongho #dongho #baekho #kang dongho scenarios #produce 101 #produce 101 scenarios #nu'est scenarios #nu'est #nu'est w #nu'est w scenarios #ksdfkdjs

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dearmrsawyer · 7 years

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Annual Writing Self-Evaluation

*All answers should be about works published in 2017.

I was tagged by @akai-coat and @imlouisaf thankyou!!

1. List of works published this year:

My fic round-up is here :)

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

I’m definitely most proud of Wear Your Fur, my nouis wolvesfest fic. It sort of came together in my head really quickly and when i wrote it, it just fell out of me. I usually spend a really long time writing my fics, longer than their word counts would suggest. Idk why, i’m just like that. But Wear Your Fur was written in under a month, i wrote every single day for a few consecutive weeks and it was all out there. It felt like such a clear story to tell, and even before i went back and fixed it up, i was so happy with it. It just did all the things i wanted it to do, its all the thing i want when i go looking for wolf fics, and its kind of exciting when you achieve something that’s kind of your ideal scenario, you know? And it wasn’t even achieved through rigorous re-working and re-writing. It was all there in the draft, it just needed a tidy. It was also my first nouis fic and i was nervous about that but i ended up loving the feeling of writing them.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

I mean, i’m happy with everything i wrote this year, but i guess if i gotta pick one i’ll go with part 2 of my nouis proposal series, The One Where Everything Goes Wrong. I don’t dislike it or anything but it prob could’ve been better, had i more knowledge of babies in general and what to do in that situation. It’s still a bit of fun though!

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

There are a lot of little interactions between Harry and Louis in We Could Live This Life Forever that i love, but i think this is one of my favourites. Sometimes you just capture a moment just the way you want to.

He goes back into the hall, leaving everyone behind. He can hear the phone dial out and he turns back to the nursery door. It’s quiet on the other side, but Harry can see a break in the line of light underneath the door and knows Louis is standing right there.

He leans his head against the doorframe. “Louis, are you okay?”

“Is she calling them?”

Harry can hear Aunt Sophie’s hushed but urgent tone from the kitchen, punctuated by James’ unrest. He takes a deep breath, throat thick. “Yeah.”

Louis doesn’t say anything. When Harry strains his ears he hears quickening breaths through the door, and crowds closer in solidarity.

“Why are you here, Louis?”

It isn’t what he’d been planning to say but it comes out without his permission. Louis’ breath catches.

“Came back to try and get you to forgive me.” His tone is rueful. “I heard yelling, thought I heard you, too, so I climbed in the window.”

Harry lets out a watery, monosyllabic laugh.

There’s one deep, harsh breath that sounds like its pressed right into the doorjamb. “I… I don’t want to go back.”

Harry wishes he could just reach out and take Louis’ hand the way Louis had done so many times. Wishes that in Louis’ moment of need, he could be the comfort Harry has come to know. He taps his fingernail lightly on the door.

“I’m going to help you.”

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

Ohh all the comments i receive matter to me a lot? I love the ones i receive on ao3, but i look at a lot of tags people add to my fic posts on tumblr and they make me really happy too. I think Sav’s comment on Wear Your Fur was one of my stand outs for the year. Coming from her, i was in awe.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Just after posting my wolvesfest fic! Once i was done with it i went back to working on a WIP that i’m still working on. I’m having issues with it i still haven’t solved. It got put on the back burner for another WIP so writing got easier then, but that particular fic has been difficult to work on. Sometimes you know things would be better written by someone else, but you know no one else is gonna do it so you have to find a way to do it yourself. I’m still in the process of working it out.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

Hmm maybe Freddie? He’s a core element in my nouis proposal series, but i’m not really comfortable writing kids because i know nothing about them or their care. Life was made easier by the fact that as a baby, Freddie’s expressions and personality were pretty limited. As time goes by, it becomes clearer that everytime i write Freddie i do not age him up according to reality. He’s always gonna very little so i don’t need to figure out how to write a child lol.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I think i just followed the natural progression of growth that anyone follows when they continue writing. Everything gets incrementally better as you write more (hopefully), so i’m just trying to do that. Gradual improvement fic by fic.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I would like to continue that same trajectory of growth, but maybe also get comfortable writing characters outside OT5. Even within OT5, there are some voices i really struggle to capture, and branching outside of them was too much to take on thus far. But maybe that’s something i can get better at next year! I like keeping the cast of my fics small, but it’d be fun to get some variety on who i can write.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

For the first time since uni, i really felt like i’m part of a community of writers this past year. Its been a long time since i had people to talk to about ideas or current projects, whose work i read and also read mine, people to sort of speculate back and forth about how things would play out, or what would be fun to write. I feel a lot less alone in that and it really does make it more exciting/rewarding. @imlouisaf and @1000-directions in particular have been part of that for me.

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Hmm, my love for Disney is pretty clear in my decision to write a Lady and the Tramp AU lol. My feelings about Louis after reading the Observer interview manifested in the nouis drabble i wrote about Niall reacting to it.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Justine said exactly what i would’ve said here, and that’s to try writing by hand if you find you’re having a hard time making progress. Writing was v slow at the beginning of the year but after we started talking i started writing by hand, and i did my entire first draft of Wear Your Fur by hand. It forces you to move forward, you can’t go back and fix things. It also helps my editing process to type it up, i can add notes as i go along and leave marks that i need to come back to and sort out. So if you feel like you’re stuck, i’d recommend trying it!

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

Hopefully i can finally work through my issues with my Nouis Killjoys AU because i want it to be good and i want it to be done.

I’ve got Pokemon AU coming up for rarepair.

I’ve got more ideas waiting for me. I have a feeling once these two are done i’m going to try my Being Human AU idea next. I feel most excited about that one.

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read.

I’ve love to hear from @niallspringsteen!

#meme

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popsicle86 · 7 years

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Ultimates Write Up Part 2: Liz and Natalia's panel

Ok so it was many months ago now (June seems so long ago!), but these notes have been sat on my phone waiting for me up find time to share them. The first question the girls were asked was what they would like to send explored for their character in the upcoming season: Natalia would like to explore yoyo's relationship with her father and Lil would like a web series exploring the downtime the agents get (she basically said she wants some domestic Fitzsimmons). Natalia went into a tangent about how she is impressed by the dialogue Fitzsimmons do, with all its complicated words. She said she had to tone up her Mexican accent for this role aftet years of learning to tone it down. They were both asked about filming action scenes, and they both discussed how silly they feel filming action scenes, especially those against green screen. Next came a question about strong female role models and their importance- lil says that the best thing about the show is that gender is not seen as important, and that's why she loved wonderwoman. She takes a lot of inspiration from her Grandmother was a doctor who set up her own gp practice in England at a time when most doctors were male. Natalia has 2 aunts who are very strong women and fight Mexican gender roles and she feels it is Important for to remove lines of division within society. The next question was if they could each give their character one piece of advice to take into S5 what would it be? Lil would tell Simmons it will all be ok in the end, Fitzsimmons will always come back to each other. And Natalia would advise Yoyo to chill a bit and think before she speaks, as she can be quite hot headed. The next question was abiut Simmons increasing medical role in the show, and whether Simmons actually has medical training. Lil feels Simmons was forced into it by moving into the field, as her knowledge of areas such as biology meant she was able to do so. She then reminisced about john hannah's protestic head, which she had to stab in the eye, and it lying in the make up trailer looking creepy and weird. The same person (who was cosplaying as Simmons, wave if you're her) mentions bobbi simmons is het a crack ship. Lil didnt know what this meant and found the term funny. Her personal favourite bobbi Simmons scene is the one in the quinjet after bobbi saves her from Hydra. Someone then asks as Lil is from Sheffield, can she settle an argument about chips ans gravy being a thing. Lil mentions mushy peas (British tradition eaten usually with fish and chips) and that Brett is freaked out by them. They then talked about the last supper scene at the end of S4 and they each got to choose their own meal. Lil chose fish and chips, but ahe regretted that after hours of filming once they had gone cold. Natalia chose jalapeño poppers for her last meal, and says as she is in England had fish, chips and gravy for breakfast that day. Lil was asked about all the emotional scenes she has to film. She said they are her favourite scenes to film, but they can affect her mood after a long say of filming them. They were both asked out of all the things that have happened what has caused their character the most trauma? Natalia said yoyo was most impacted by the story at the end of season 4 with Mack having a child and not remembering her. However it allowed Natalia the chance to explore a side of yoyo she hadn't come across before then. Lil says Maveth changed Simmons the most. I asked Liz to confirm where Simmons is from, as Coulson mentions Sheffield but on screen records state her as a Devonshire native. She requested Simmons be from Sheffield at the start of S3 when she knew they were going to mention her parents. Lil talked about being a youth theatre kid from Yorkshire and she still feels she is on a journey in terms of her career and that she feels teachers are the true super heroes. Natalia then said as long as we are doing what we are passionate about we are doing the best we can. When asked about Simmons romantic history, Liz says she thinks Simmons wasplayer in uni. Lots of one night stands. She based this on the deleted scene from Seeds. He was cut from the edit but the actor that serves the drink that Daisy refers to is Lil's current boyfriend. When asked about chemistry with other actors they both talked about the importance of being in the moment and feeling what works with give and take. Natalia: a stick has chemistry with Henry. Question asked about giving the finger to bodyshaming in the media. Liz sees any reaction as not real, as those people don't know her, so she chooses not to let it affect her. Instead she feels sorry for the person that wants to take women and send them love them instead. Importance of positive thinking. And to sometimes just say fuck it. Natalia then supported that by saying people treat others as they treat themselves. Next question was do you prefer kissing Iain our stabbing him? She said kissing scenes are weird because they are good friends and Iain is friends with ber boyfriend. Lil and her boyfriend played a prank on iain after Fitzsimmons first kiss and Lil's boyfriend pretended he was not happy about it to wind Iain up. However the stabbing wasn't weird. Natalia was askes if yoyo had a baby what super power what would it have: same super power as Yoyo so baby could torment Mack. Natalia thinks Yo-yo would make short work of Trumps wall, and she thinks there is scope for a political episode of shield but in terms of the framework arc it enabled discussion of the importance of using the marvel prism to examine social commentary. Lil was asked about the chemistry between herself and B J Britt. Liz says simmons def fancied him & there was a spark, but she was meant to be with Fitz. Natalia was asked about joining an already established cast and she said it was shocking & wonderful joining people who turned out to be coolest, especially the women of shield being friendly and not being competetive, which is apparently rare in Hollywood. On her first day on set she said how Liz and Chloe cane running up to her, so excited to talk about her playing Yoyo, only for her to tell them she hadn't realised she was as the producers had been trying to keep it quiet. You could tell the genuine friendship and affection that the two girls had and it made the panel lovely. I've got a random one with bits from other actors to add at a later time, but I hope you enjoyed my run down of the panel as they were both lovely!

#aos cast #elizabeth henstridge #natalia cordova buckley #fitzsimmons #team engineering #engineering vs biochem #text post #sooo many tags #looks like I'm slowly coming back odd hiatus!#starfury ultimates 2017

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sanguinesprout · 7 years

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Things and stuff... and things... and stuff... and things... .__. (some more thoughts and frustrations, talk about troubles and general feels)

Hmm.. I’ve put off writing again and forgotten things again... things lately have been... kind of bleh... melancholy and non-progressive. I’ve got the negative thinking hat on right now, I know. I wanna take it off though, it’s snug to the point my head hurts but it doesn’t seem to wanna budge yet so imma just roll with it a little while longer. Forgive me for my excessive and probably incorrect use of ellipses, it’s just really hard to find the words, I just smh to myself all the time whenever I try writing really.

Maybe I should make a twitter or something so I can briefly write my thoughts when I actually have them, I’ve thought about this quite a few times in the past. It seems kind of an effort though... my phone is busted and whipping out my pc whenever or writing on paper is kinda out of the question cause I’m much too cowardly and paranoid. I’ll save the thought for another time though (another time probably meaning never orz).

Everyday just feels... heavy and bleak. Like there’s rainclouds permanently hanging over my head even when it’s a sunny day and everyone outside is chirpy and happy. I’m so foggy and sickly feeling from the moment I wake to the moment I sleep. Everything’s so overwhelming, the thoughts, the senses, all in overdrive and concentration on anything is impossible. I can’t help but feel like don’t know what to do or what I’m even doing has a point and I’m spiralling into the sea of darkness again. I’m lost, so terribly lost, but I can see a small light in the distance. Although it’s far, if I keep going maybe I can still find my way back out. I won’t ever give up hope, even if I feel like there isn’t any at all a lot of the time. I just need to keep going..!

Hmm, okay, I've been tidying my room and pc some more lately. Came across my dyslexia reports (mentioned in one of my previous posts) which I’d been wanting to take another look at since it’s been years, so I did. I read through them both and the first thing I would have to say is that I’m an idiot. Not in the sense of anything related to the disorder or report itself or anything offensive, but in the fact that I disregarded and was negligent towards the diagnoses and advice. I don’t know why I’m so skeptical or maybe still in denial towards this, I think I’m still rather uniformed myself even though I have researched it quite a lot but keep forgetting or misinterpreting details. I feel unsure because like I said at other times, things relating to mental function overlap/can have multiple possible causes. It’s that ‘I don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket’ kind of feeling, if that makes sense. I don’t want things in general to become self fulfilling prophecies, because once my mind goes running, it really doesn’t want to come back.

Maybe because I’ve had these struggles all my life I just saw it as normal, as just how I am or something and so to casually dismiss it. Or maybe... it just feels like because maybe no one else around me took it seriously, that I then followed them and didn’t take it seriously either or was too scared to. Being told you’re lazy and slow and things like that all the time and finding out you have legitimate explanation or cause for these troubles, it should be a good sort of thing to know, act on and inform people of. But... instead I have the feeling that it sounds like just an excuse to everyone else, it’s just so easily misinterpreted and kind of difficult to comprehend, explain or believe I guess, idk... :<

The first report from college said I had mild dyslexia and the second more detailed report from uni said I had Dyslexia, ADD (is it called Inattentive ADHD nowadays?) and Irlen syndrome (will maybe write about another time). The Dyslexia mentioned in both was mostly relating to my processing and memory being meh I think. Even though I read them the other day I can’t remember the contents properly, lovely .__. ADD is actually a lot more than I thought it was... I googled it again recently and a lot of the symptoms are similar or overlap with those of AVPD and other things. I want to find an article to link it (though it’s not really necessary) or re-read the report again but even now my head hurts so bad and I just wanna go flop on the bed. I’m really struggling, the mental effort is so strenuous with everything little I do. Even the simplest things wear me out so much that I’m just getting so frustrated and exhausted over and over again.

Some advice was to go to the doctor for medication to help with the ADD (which I obviously didn’t do). I’m wondering if I should try now, even though it’s been pretty long since the report was written, even though my parents will probably just shun the idea, even though I’m scared of side effects... If it helps, if it makes a difference, it could even be a life changer maybe, or even if it doesn’t help, I’ll never know unless I try... it’s tough... I need to research it some more.

I really badly want to get this post done because thinking about it for so many days (like every other post) has left me with so much anguish, but it’s so hard to formulate the words to express what I really want to say. I feel like I’ve set too much of a structure with my other posts and the general flow of the blog. Also like I’ve set up a certain standard for myself that I feel pressured to try and match every time. I’m just such a ridiculously troublesome and self sabotaging person ughhhh! No no, stop being so negative...! ><

I think I will keep it brief this time and re-visit and elaborate when I can think more clearly next time. Don’t be so hard on yourself, silly... Maybe I should just bullet point my thoughts and stuff so I’ll stop worrying about the structure and grammar and whatever, but I guess it might make less sense then... but when have my posts ever made sense lol... One of the things in one of my dyslexia reports said my writing sample was good but I played it safe with the topic and vocabulary and my paragraphing sucked hahaha. But with more practice, there is improvement. I mean my paragraphing is probably still pretty weird, and my punctuation, I do remember having trouble with it when I was little, but I think I have improved in the general writing department, I’m kind of proud-ish, yay!

Moving on from that subject, I’ve been feeling pretty sad and worried about my family... or well my parents in particular. It’s like... I know I have a very poor quality of life because of health and lack of social stuff, but so do my parents and they never speak about this (no surprise here), but I know about it and I really want to help but when I do they just brush it off or get annoyed... :/ They sacrifice so much of their health for work, and they work so I can live and leech off them pretty much :<

Ugh I’m too brain foggy and distracted... I need a break... :c ...Hmm okay, distracted myself for a bit, nao back to writing something... or not....

*A few days later* welp, uhh... still very groggy and very neck muscle/jaw tension wow. Per usual I forgot what I wanted to say even more lol. I don’t like writing negative/personal stuff about my parents, feels bad man x 10000 .__. I don’t like writing any of this stuff at all, but I can’t give up! Or well, I won’t give up! c: I went back and edited/added to the stuff I wrote, good! Now to continue!

Hmm... in relation my parents having not much concern over their well-being(?) uhh, let’s take the other day for example. I was just saying to my dad that he shouldn’t use expired stuff or things for purposes they’re not designed for or overwork and he got annoyed instantly as usual. I was saying it because I care for him and am worried about his health but I was finding it really hard to express this because of the language barrier. I still tried my best though and after quite a while remembered a certain phrase which is something like wishing or wanting someone to be healthy/have a healthy body. I remembered it because I just heard it a lot the past year and recently (probably a few months ago now) my dad’s bro phoned and said it to me and my dad. He actually wasn’t annoyed anymore after that, maybe because he caught on to what my intentions were or maybe just because he saw me looking upset idk (I got a bit teary but tried to keep looking down and stuff).

Something I also remember and have been wanting to mention, is that my uncle also said to me that same time while my dad was there (he was holding the phone on loudspeaker), that if there is anything troubling me, I shouldn’t hold it all in (my heart) because it’s no good for my health and should speak about it with my parents and stuff (...um maybe this would be possible in an alternate world, but it seems unlikely to work or happen here .__.). My dad’s bro is such a wonderful person and I’m really so thankful and glad my dad has been able to keep in contact with him lately, and to actually see him happy and stuff. I just wish I could’ve talked to him better myself but I froze up cause language barrier and avpd life ugh. That reminds me of another thing, I have relatives but they are all like strangers to me and there’s the language barrier again and it’s just hella awkward... it sucks :c

I need to stop being such a weenie about everything. No, I say stop too much. I should cease and desist from being such a weenie. Hm... I need to cease and desist from putting myself down and beating my self up, unless it’s beating myself up with only positivity, if that is even possible. Haha that’s a thought... replacing the negative stuff with positive but keeping it in the same attacking tone of voice, it’s pretty amusing. Reminds me of those rap battles I saw on the internets which have complimenting instead of dissing lmao. The more sensical phrase would be to lift yourself up with positivity. Imma make sure to do this instead, lift myself up off my sad butt and get moving. Do you even lift bruh?Lololol :3

I’ve been kinda avoiding going out a bit more lately, I’m so self-conscious and it’s just been getting worse and worser, especially since I’m exposing myself to all these seemingly perfect people on places like Instagram. I can’t help but compare and feel inferior and just ugh. All these people I see are not afraid to like what they like or do and say what they want without feeling ashamed. I aspire to be like them, truly. Seeing that they like things I also like (that I feel stupidly ashamed of and just hide), think and say things similar or exactly on the point of what I would like to (but can never muster the courage to) and are still appreciated and liked is kind of eye opening and reassuring. It gives me hope that if I just really be myself someday, then it’ll actually be okay.

There’s a lot of stuff I wanted to write but kinda just slipped my mind as I focused on other bits, but this post is pretty darn long enough already anyways and my eyes and head are hurting. I guess it’s a good time to end the post and catch some Z’s. I’ll give myself a pat on my (sore aching granneh) back for managing to write even though I felt like I really couldn’t (and wanted to avoid doing so more) and to write out some things I thought I wouldn’t. I did it and I want to continue to get better at expressing and understanding myself! Go go silly me! ^^

Good night~!

#feelings #avpd #add #depression #mental health #dyslexia #family #the whole post is just this .__.#and rambling #mopey mopeness #idk #don't be so hard on yourself #don't push yourself down with negativity #lift yourself up with positivity #get back on your feet and kick ass #you can do it!

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apospasis · 7 years

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☆ﾟ That famous explanatory post ☆ﾟ

I’M FINALLY DOING THIS So, as I said… a well damned ago, I’m writing this to explain my absence and why I couldn’t bring my ass back on here for more than two minutes. I’ll try to be as brief as possible to not bore you with my tedious developments in life, but I’d like to start from the beginning, so from early/mid February if I remember correctly??? anyway, here it goes. EDIT AS I FINISHED TO WRITE: I failed at being brief, so I’ll put this under the cut, thanks A LOT in advance for those who will read! 💘

The time I started to be less and less on this site was about four months ago, and that was because the real, let’s call it, “tough” part of the last high school year began to reveal itself… so yes, the main issue I had was school related: it was when the realisation of the typical “what the hell will I do after” hit me like a rock and I kinda felt desperate because honestly I didn’t know. I had some ideas about university of course, but I did feel that none of them would be the right one, or, even worse, that I wouldn’t be able to enter the university in the first place. To add some salt on the wound, school itself began to enter in beast mode: at the end of January, the subject of “seconda prova” (that is, one of the three written part our graduation exam is composed by) came out, so did the teachers commission, and since basically there were only less than four months left before the end of school, the teachers went crazy to test us and to finish their programs in the best way possible (and it was /February/, you can imagine how May was). So I stopped to stay regularly on my most used social networks (tumblr/twitter), keep in touch with the people I met (s/o to Classicaloid too for the amazing people it allowed me to come to know, I love y’ll), since school took most of my time. Then, March arrived. March represented one of the big turning points: I went for few days with my parents to Venice, to see the university. As said before, to me the choice for the university represented a big “???????” in my head, and even if Venice was a top choice, it remained a dream, both because it is far from where I live and because there was no way my parents (especially my mother, who is pretty strict on the topic) would let me live /alone/ in a so big and different city. So I was SHOCKED when they in primis proposed to book an appointment, and actually go and get some info; of course I had talked about that with them before, but they weren’t all that happy with the choice, so when I heard the news I was jumping on the spot! And, needless to say, I fell in love with the city the moment I put my feet on the lagoon. To talk about the trip itself I should write a whooooole other post, but what’s important is that the meeting went pretty well and after talking with my parents *MORESHOCK* they said there were okay with me taking the entrance test for the uni that was around the end of April! Then another big event happened in March: my godfather took me to Teatro alla Scala to see “La traviata” starring Anna Netrebko: it was my first opera in such an important theatre, and it’s no joke when I say I legit cried at the end of it (I should do another different post for it too, ahah, even, I need to make A LOT of more posts, such as the school trip and the recital, to make up for the whole time - and you all thought you finally got rid of me - ).

April came, so the did our school trip to… Vienna! Magical Vienna (well, we also saw Innsbruck and Graz, but we were in them just for few hours). To me, Vienna was dreamy: I tried to live “the Austrian dream” and in our free time after I had seen the most famous places with my class and the others two, I went for the Musikverein, the Opera House, the Opera Café, the Sacher Café and so on. And trust me, I ate Sachertorte EVERYDAY and I still don’t regret it the tiniest bit. One of the things I liked the most about the city was the incredible organisation about cycle lines! Back in town, my godfather took me again to the theatre to see Thomas Hampson’s recital, and let me say, when he took the sunflower I had thrown him on the stage, I had to slap my face. Anyway, time flew until the day of the entrance exam: since the visit to Venice, I have been preparing it with some logic exercises and with some books that would have helped me for the chosen curriculum; finished it, I was pretty okay about how I did, not 100% sure, but still okay. The following days though, I had a kind of breakdown which resulted in me skipping several days of school and some important tests (at that time it was the end of April, the exam was near and near and things started to get heated about it). My mother was… rightly, angry, but I couldn’t step out of the bed and the more she screamed, the more I curled under the blankets. Somehow (and after a long talk with my doc), I managed to get back on my feet, after all, I didn’t struggle for Venice, for the test to end not being able to finish high school, am I right? So I kicked myself in the butt and went back to school. At this point, we were in May: the first half was more or less “calm” in term of written and oral tests, but you can already imagine the second was pure… hell, but it is the norm, especially for the graduation classes around the country (I think you noticed I cut one evening to be back on here for the final Eurovision night because after all, I had to let our flag fly high). May was also the month the entrance test results came out, and: I passed. I was officially enrolled in Venice university (even if mother tried to bring bad luck until the very last day, lol). I don’t exactly remember how I felt, but I was proud. Just proud of myself for having succeeded in one of the first big “adult steps” in life. And so the desperate search for a roof began: it leaded to a very nice pension in an accessible point of the city. And it was done. Done. My nearest future is there, from September (probably end of August, since I need to learn how to move in the city, ahah) I’ll move and start from zero. Nothing bad for someone who can’t even bring her own keys because her parents still think she will lose them outside, don’t you think?

Test after test, we managed to survive the end of the year, and now here we are: on Monday we’ll have the third and last written test (and most feared by students) of our graduation exam (we had the other two on Wednesday and Thursday), then from Wednesday the orals will begin. Until I completed everything, I /still/ won’t be able to be fully back, since I need to be prepared the most and be in my best shape to make a good impression in front of the commission but here we are. Then again, from the 17th on July I’ll be on holiday with mother, and *adds even more shock* we’ll travel for TEN DAYS around Japan, starting from Tokyo itself! I still don’t know if I can get good internet connection outside places with wi-fi, so I don’t know when I can post here a daily account (… yes, this gargantuan post was supposed to announce my return and I’m saying I’ll be far again, ok, clap clap me) In the end, i just want to say a HUGE thank you to the people who followed me, to the ones who were already here and bore first with my idiotic posts and then with my absence and all the notifications and messages I’m going to catch up again as soon as I’m done with everything, and in general to the amazing people that this goddamned website allowed me to meet and to be friend with. As said, I need to be away for some more time, until the exam in done and I finished sorting the last things out, but you kept waiting for so long that at least an explanation was necessary. And thank you again.

#personal #mine

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1ove-jin · 8 years

Text

The Cat Before Platform 6

Parings: Jin x Jungkook (Jinkook) & One-sided/friendship Jin x Jimin (Jinmin)

Summary: Jungkook was willing to give anything to bring Seokjin back. The cat before platform 6 blinks at him with all the temptation of the world in it's blue eye and all the false mercy of a god in it's yellow eye. Seokjin, on the other hand, comes back to a scene he much rather would have avoided; and Jimin? Jimin just wanted to get rid of the guilt at having killed too many on accident. In the end though, the catch is that nobody remembers anything. Not Jungkook who gave his all, nor Seokjin who came back from the dead, nor that good for nothing cat who dealt out propositions like it was the devil. In the end, it was only Jimin. The great and lonely god who had finally found a home, but couldn’t keep it.

Disclaimer: The mix of ideas may be mine but I got inspired from animes, mainly Madoka, and Noragami.

Trigger warning; Violence, mentions suicide, death

Chapter 1/2: Read it on, Ao3

IT’S 4:46 AM... I’LL EDIT THIS AND ADD MORE SUBSTANCE/DETAIL TOMORROW! italics - flashback)

If anything was a bad omen that morning, it was the rain. However, Jungkook hadn’t really thought of it as a bad omen then because Seokjin loved the rain, and if Seokjin loved it that meant Jungkook did as well. That morning they had woken up and stretched with smiles curling the tips of their lips. It was a good morning. A typically sticky, almost-spring morning with raining tapping jovially on their windowsills. As a bonus, they were both off from Uni for the spring/easter break. That meant they were Busan bound in roughly around 3 hours, right after Seokjin’s promised “breakFEAST” that would eminence at approximately 12:30 am. Technically, Jungkook wants to correct his boyfriend and tell him that would be considered - literally- a midnight snack, but Seokjin was too excited about the adventurous prospect of having scrambled eggs and hash browns (in other words: the breakfast foods) at ungodly hours of the night so Jungkook keeps quite and agrees to deliciously partake in the eating of a breakfeast.

“I’m super excited!” Seokjin whispered, flapping his invisible bird wings and wiggling his crooked fingers. Jungkook groaned and hit his forehead against Seokjin’s broad, warm, perfect chest.

“Just five more minutes, hyung. Then tell me about how excited you are.”

Of course, Jungkook feels like a little shit because Seokjin actually agrees, his voice holding a tinge of disappointment and rejection. It’s exactly 2 minutes and 39 seconds before Jungkook can’t stand the sound of his conscious chipping away, so he sits up, rubs his eyes, scratches the back of his neck, and proceeds to look squarely at his boyfriend, wide awake. “Okay. What’s the course of action for today?”

Seokjin promptly jumps up and gives Jungkook a loud, smacking, lovely morning peck. “You could have slept for a little longer you know.”

Jungkook smiles, “I know hyung, but I didn’t want to. Are you going to make breakfast while I pack now?”

Seokjin nodded before crinkling his features into a handsome scrunch. “I told you to pack the night before, did you not listen?”

Jungkook sheepishly shakes his head, wondering if he could get over this one relatively easily with a few winks and a cute little smile. Upon trying he realizes Seokjin is in a good mood. Ecstatic about their trip to Busan in the early breaking lights of dawn, Seokjin had simply quickly decided that Jungkook aegyo sufficed.

“Let’s wear the matching couple coats your mother got us,” Seokjin grins. He pulls out the green coat and hands Jungkook his burgundy one. Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Stuck up. This is why my mom likes you so much.” It wasn’t exactly Jungkook’s style. He preferred bomber jackets, in casual black if possible. Seokjin was usually the one who flaunted flamboyant pink coats and cute sweaters. Jungkook liked to go plain, faded jeans and white Tees were his thing; maybe with a beanie or something if he was really trying to impress. When looking at their wardrobe and closet, it was immediately possible to discern which side belonged to who, and it seemed that his own mother approved of Seokjin’s fashion sense much more than his own.

Seokjin puts on his green coat over the red and black striped shirt he picked out and beams proudly at Jungkook. Somehow his boyfriend makes it all work out and looks like a supermodel ripped right out of the magazine. Jungkook hadn’t known those three colors could even coexsist on a singular outfit until Seokjin wore it, and killed it. “I swear, I don’t wear couple things with you because you look infinitely better in them than I do,” Jungkook complains. He pulled on the dark red, wine colored coat and frowns. It seemed to clash with his brown hair, but Seokjin squeals and calls him every adjective in the book, starting from cute and ending with handsome. “Trust me. For me, you look the best,” Seokjin reassures. Jungkook looks one more time at the mirror and slowly does a once over; maybe the coat wasn’t so bad on him after all.

It’s that awkward time where Jungkook can’t say it’s 3am but he can’t exactly say it’s 4am either. Their train was scheduled for 3:45, which in itself was weird, but the rain had scared off possible co-passengers and the platform was empty. Since they were taking a train and they were planning to say for a week or two down at Jungkook’s place Seokjin decided they shouldn’t take the car and park it somewhere public for a extended time. That left one option. To walk.

“We can take the normal way,” Jungkook reasons while looking at his watch, “Or. We can take the shortcut through the actual track road and get there on time to actually catch the train.”

Seokjin, the sensible and proper one in their relationship, usually wouldn’t agree with Jungkook’s crazy detour. Jungkook gives him the look that reminds Seokjin that if he hadn’t insisted on packing fifty million snacks for the road they could have already walked to the proper platform and back.

“Alright,” Seokjin gives in, not too happy with his folded integrity, “let’s take the shortcut.”

Luckily for Seokjin though, even the rocks couldn’t trip him up despite their slippery wet unevenness. Jungkook practically had a death grip on him that helped his two left feet stay on the ground and propel him forward in a decent walk. “Uneven wet ground is a bad idea,” Seokjin notes to himself and Jungkook snorts. “It’s okay, I got you right?”

Seokjin turns to face his dear athletic and way-too-strong-to-handle boyfriend to give a sarcastic smile when something white catches his eye. Seokjin wonders if a patch of snow hadn’t melted yet on the tracks, but that couldn’t be possible. The weather the past week had been warm, even borderline hot, and the sweet rain currently permeating his cloths was proof of spring. All traces of winter should have been annihilated long ago by the fresh new season. In the distance he hears their line and Jungkook vaguely says something about running to catch that train when Seokjin finally deduced what exactly the curled white blog is.

“Jungkook!” Seokjin yanks his arm back and starts running for the creature.

“SEOKJIN!” Jungkook hollars in sheer horror, wondering what had gotten into his rational boyfriend. It was craziness. Seokjin was running towards the train and not away, to platform 6 where they were supposed to climb up and board.

“The cat, Jungkook!” Seokjin yells and Jungkook finally zeros in on the stark white dot in the middle of the track. Seokjin’s kind instincts would of course focus on saving the poor animal, and Jungkook’s instincts would of course focus on saving Seokjin. Using his well toned legs he starts for the creature. Jungkook curses under his breath and prays that he will make it to the target before his boyfriend does. Bounding through the middle lane, hair whipping wildly in the wind and teeth clenched in determination, Jungkook easily surpasses Seokjin and stretches for the creature that strangely, calmly looks at him, as if he were beckoning Jungkook forward and simply waiting to be rescued. Jungkook feels like if he simply opens his mouth and speaks to the cat, it will miraculously understand and evade the oncoming danger on it’s own. He scoops the cat up into his arms and practically feels the kinetic motion of the train incoming on his left side.

“Shit!!” Jungkook curses, his shoe jammed between the wooden track and some rocks, refuses to budge. He could bend down and rip the sneaker off, but that would take too much time. Jungkook doesn’t know when Seokjin had caught up with him, but his boyfriend is right behind him, yelling his name. He says something, maybe it was “move” or maybe it was “watch out” Jungkook couldn’t hear with the sound of the train furiously charging towards him and the rushing of his blood that swirled towards his head as if anticipating death and wanting to cushion his mind. There’s impact, but it’s soft. Way softer than what he imagined.

Jungkook watches the rocks come up towards his face and feels Seokjin get hit before he can hear the strangled scream. The train apathetically rolls by, its malicious purpose fulfilled. Jungkook drops the cat and hollers in furious agony. Something was wrong. Terribly out of order. Failed. He was supposed to get hit. It was supposed to be a tremendous smash of the train against his ribcage and not some soft shove on his back and a face full of pebbles. He wishes the blood curtling scream had come from his own throat; it would hurt less if that were the case. Jungkook feels like his heart fell and became smothered in the grave of stones. The train antagonizes him and laughs it’s loud rumbling laugh, “chicka chick chika chick,” as it moves by slowly and carefree. Jungkook starts running, toward the last car when he sees it and sleepy faces are pressed against the window, not even taking notice of his frantic colorful curses.

“SEOKJIN!” the sight of Seokjin’s green jacket on the floor in a heap hurls a deep panic into Jungkook’s throat and he chokes back a sob as his knees smash the ground by Seokjin’s body.

“Seokjin?”

…

“Hyung?”

Yes. Seokjin had always liked that name the best, maybe he will respond now?

“HYUNG? HYUNG! HYUNG!”

Silence.

It was heavy and too complete and entirely too cruel. “Wake up! Umma said she made a cake just for you. She put strawberries on it, the ones she grew herself! Come on. Hyung don’t do this. Open your eyes we have to go to Busan. Come on!” Jungkook begs and pleads and forces the tears down. He would not cry. He could not cry. He shouldn’t cry! Why should he? There was absolutely no reason to. Everything was fine, Seokjin was just a little shocked, that was all. He was resting his very startled brain and soon those beautiful brown orbs that crinkled when he smiled and shone when he told an old “ajae” gag and winked at Jungkook when he was attempting to flirt were going to open up. Seokjin was going to say he was sore from landing wrong and ask Jungkook why he didn’t wake him sooner and they were going to be a little late, but they were going to go to Busan and Jungkook was finally, finally, going to ask his parents if he could get permission to propose to and marry Seokjin.

Jungkook was never religious, but he prays. To a god whom he wasn’t acquainted with, to the cosmos, the stars, hell even to the sun. He prays for them to help wake Seokjin up faster. Anything if they or it or she or he could help Seokjin.

“Come on hyung. You don’t like sleeping this much, come on.” Jungkook’s arms wrap around Seokjin’s shoulders and his legs come under to help Seokjin’s torso lay down comfortably without getting shards of hard earth stuck on his back. “Hyung? Kim Seokjin, open your eyes.” The body was already cold against Jungkook’s fingertips and rain was mixing with Seokjin’s blood, but Jungkook doesn’t move. He’s appalled. His anger is misplaced, but he wants to kill that goddamn cat, and the conductor, and the uncaring, unmoved people on the train who passed by without even an exclamation. The indifference of the train baffles and shocks Jungkook until he wants to destroy it. He feels like he can pick up the metal monster and rip it to pieces, shred by shred. Everything, the stupid white cat and the good for nothing people and even that inanimate train was too alive. Breathing, blinking, moving. Everything was too alive while Kim Seokjin was too dead and that made Jungkook livid with injustice. Because if anything on the planet deserved to be breathing and blinking and moving and living: it was Seokjin.

“I’ll kill them all,” Jungkook finally sobs, after half an hour of just sitting with Seokjin’s body. He wanted to desecrate the world and watch it burn because how dare it continue to move and function while the angel in his arms was gone. The audacity of the place to keep functioning normally as if nothing happened infuriates Jungkook. “I’ll… I’ll really… seriously,” Jungkook has trouble breathing through his shrill sobs and the rain, as if sympathizing and mourning with him, pounds down on him harder.

“Instead of killing everything, why not save everything?” The voice purrs, quite literally, besides Jungkook. Growling harshly Jungkook whips his head around looking for the invader who dared to interrupt his moment with Seokjin.

“Show yourself!” Jungkook howls, clutching Seokjin tighter and afraid that the stranger would take him away for good.

“I already have, are you ignoring me because I’m a cat?”

Jungkook glares at the cat and it takes a moment for his brain to fully register the fact that yes, indeed, the cat’s lips moved in an abnormal pattern that was never observed in cats before, at least not by humankind. Dumbfounded, he wonders if he’s really lost it after Seokjin’s death, and he doesn’t doubt that he’s actually gone insane. Losing Seokjin could do that to him.

“No. You’re not crazy, I’m just special.”

The fact that this cat was special and hyper intelligent fuels Jungkook’s hatred for it. The cat could have moved. It could have understood his yelling. “You fucking--”

“Woah woah! Didn’t you pray for a chance? I’m giving you one. He didn’t deserve this fate…”

Jungkook agrees and defensively growls at the cat that of course Seokjin didn’t deserve it. Seokjin was the kindest, most benevolent person Jungkook knew. If anything, everybody should have been more like him. The world would have been a better.

“What would you do then, to give him another chance?” The cat asks boldly, like it was entitled to a payment for the damages it caused. Jungkook wants to point out the disgusting haughtiness and the unjust entitlement complex but stops himself. If the cat could talk, it must have been able to do something. It didn’t matter if it was dark magic or the devil in disguise, when Jungkook had prayed to “anything” for help, he hadn’t excluded even Satan himself as an option. Because if it was for Seokjin. If it was for Kim Seokjin, “I can do anything. Anything.” The answer came without hesitation, without a thought, without pause.

“Anything? Then how about…”

The first day they meet it’s because of Jungkook’s annoying best friend Kim Taehyung who also happened to be Seokjin’s cousin and who ALSO happened to drag Jungkook along because he needed a quote “muscle pig” to help his cousin move into an apartment in Seoul. Seokjin was moving up from Gwacheon that day and in Taehyung’s eyes Jungkook was perfect free labor.

Jungkook had heard about Seokjin and how amazingly kind, beautiful, and funny he was, but considering the source was a drunk Taehyung who cried over missing his cousin’s cooking and “mother like hugs” while trying to call everyone and brag about Seokjin at 12 am, Jungkook didn’t know if the information was accurate. For all Jungkook knew, this Seokjin person could be mean, ugly, and a total bore. Taehyung had a habit of adding too much fat to his stories. He called it improvision, Jungkook called it either a lie or a scam.

Jungkook takes the first few boxes from the man in the moving truck and heads towards the elevators when a man to his side wordlessly takes off the top box. Jungkook was actually grateful because although he didn’t exactly want to admit it, the moving man had overestimated his physique. “Thank you,” Jungkook turns and stops short at the tall man who’s beaming at him with all his black haired, two earrings, broad shouldered glory.

“No problem, this is all my stuff anyway,” Seokjin grins and watches the floors on the elevator changing. “You must be Jeon Jungkook, right?”

“Right!” Jungkook blurted out, a little too loudly and a little too fast. Flushing slightly, Jungkook lowers his voice and nods again, “right. You must be Kim Seokjin?”

Seokjin winks, the first ever wink Jungkook got from him and the one that was forever stuck somewhere in his heart and tucked neatly away in the ‘most beautiful things i’ve witnessed in my life’ box. “That’s me! Nice to meet you Jungkook!”

Jungkook wishes badly that he could stick out his arm and offer a handshake, but all he can give is a nod. “Nice to finally meet you too. I heard a lot about you.”

“Oh?” Seokjin’s eyes sparkle with a childlike and playful curiosity. “What did Taehyung say about me? I hope it’s nothing weird.”

Jungkook shakes his head feverently, “oh no no! He said you were kind, beautiful, and funny actually!”

Seokjin laughs at his cousin’s never changing repertoire. “So? Is it true?”

“Huh?”

“Am I kind, beautiful, and funny?”

Jungkook looks at Seokjin flustered, but he was never a good liar. Although he could control himself when thinking rationally, it seemed like Seokjin had somehow cut that filter and short-circuited Jungkook’s tongue with his heart. “Kind, definitely. Beautiful, for sure. I’m not sure about funny. We just met.”

Seokjin hums in approval and looks intently at Jungkook, “I’ll have you know… I’m hilarious.”

“I’ll give you this one,” Jungkook answers and the Cat, named Jae, grins in hungry anticipation, waiting to devour the memory. Jungkook, with some lessons and a little time to practice, condenses the memory into a tiny yellow ball and places it in front of Jae who savagely rips it apart with it’s fangs and swallows it in large greedy gulps.

It was strange. Something Jungkook felt like he would always remember forever, was suddenly no longer in his brain. For a few minutes it was confusing and every time he tried to recall how he and Seokjin had met something would tickle his mind then float right out of his grasp. Even if he told himself he gave the memory away so he should technically have a copy, it was like the slate was completely wiped clean by an invisible hand.

“Thank you for the offering. Now. I’ll let you restart the day. Think about it carefully. Okay?”

Jungkook wakes in cold sweat and the only reason he knows the whole ordeal wasn’t a dream was because the pain in his heart was too real and the scratch he gave himself on his wrist while he was saving the cat still leaked with blood. Seokjin groans and mutters that he’s tired, but he supposed he must get up. A long, high pitched beep is still ringing in Jungkook’s ears. Seokjin’s only thought being that it was truly a phenomenon that Jungkook was sitting upright in bed before him, he theorizes the reason behind Jungkook’s early activity. “That excited to go to Busan, huh?”

“NO!” Jungkook hollers and Seokjin jumps, startled.

“We can’t go to Busan today!”

Seokjin gives Jungkook a strange look and cautiously asks why. “Umma called last night and said her cousin’s friend’s sister died. She needs to open shop for her cousin.”

Seokjin frowns a bit in defeat and Jungkook slumps in relief. Perking up Seokjin springs out of bed, “Then let’s go help her!”

“NO!” Jungkook angrily shouts and Seokjin slows his motions, cautious of the suddenly frantic Jungkook. “Is something the matter? Why are you like this today?” The fear and confusion and pure utter heartbreak in Seokjin’s voice melts Jungkook’s resolve. He thinks about going to the main road towards the train station but the faces of people rushing past without a care as Seokjin lay dead comes back too fresh and too vivid for Jungkook to stomach.

“Okay. let’s go. But let’s drive there, hum? No trains. I… I have a terrible fear of trains.”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow because every time they had to visit their parents in the country, the two of them had taken trains. Jungkook in particular liked the fast and comfortable travel. “Since when?” Seokjin inquires, genuinely confused but also concerned at Jungkook’s distress.

‘Since the day you died,’ Jungkook thinks silently, watching Seokjin’s face crinkle with concern and his eyebrows scrunch with curiosity. “Just… I saw the movie Train to Busan a few days ago.”

Seokjin thinks about the hit zombie movie and relaxes instantaneously. Still, if Jungkook felt squeamish, he didn’t want to force him into riding the train for hours. “Okay, let’s drive there.”

That time around, it was the second attempt, Seokjin dies of a car accident. Jungkook only manages to get a slight scratch on his neck from the seat belt. Seokjin’s head snaps back so fast with a sickening crunch that he dies on the spot. Jungkook knows he’ll never be able to drive a car ever again. All he can see is Seokjin’s neck in a strange angle, completely twisted away from his spine. Seokjin’s eyes still open in terror, mouth frozen in a scream that never got to see the world, and the goddamn drunk driver in his truck, sprawled out and snoring, unfortunately alive.

Their first date, if it counted, was at a cafe for some coffee and because Jungkook needed help for his biology project. Seokjin claimed he wasn’t all that helpful but ended up doing half the presentation preparations in a flash while Jungkook, in that same amount of time, was able to deduce that mitosis was a thing and it worked… for reasons… and babies were made. Although Seokjin laughed and helped explain why that wasn’t directly, exactly, the correct way to put it, Jungkook wasn’t listening, or even trying to listen.

Seokjin’s laugh was a wonderful thing. It was like chimes in the wind or birds in the morning. Sweet. Melodic. Something he wanted to keep listening to and something Jungkook wanted to intentionally cause, even if it was at the expense of his own image.

“So cranes don’t bring the babies in a bundle huh?” Jungkook asks, knowing full well that it was a ridiculous old fable. Yet, Seokjin laughs, and it was all okay.

“You’re the funny one,” Seokjin nods, acknowledging Jungkook’s skill and Jungkook feels this strange sense of pride for a thing that was very mundane and not that big of an accomplishment. If you asked him thought, it felt like he won the world. And maybe he had, because it was his cute little efforts that moved Seokjin’s heart eventually. That first date in the small cafe, with their warm caramel macchiatos and blueberry muffins and messy bio notes, was the start of Jungkook’s mission to make Seokjin happy and the start of Seokjin’s mission to his.

“Take it!” Jungkook shoves the yellow ball at Jae who gladly takes it like it’s owed to him. “Good luck this time!!!”

Attempt 3: Seokjin gets a cold that eventually leads to pneumonia that eventually kills him in 3 weeks. Jungkook gives up 21 memories in order to go back to day 1. He gives up important ones, small ones, medium ones and all the ones in between. Good ones where they cuddled and spoon fed each other cereal on lazy sunday mornings to bad ones where they were blinded by jealousy and wrecked havoc on the apartment. Medium ones where they literally just slept side by side all day after midterms to the ones in between where they stole kisses at the bookstore and dared each other to scare the cashier with whatever they bought using only 5,000 won. Jae takes all of the memories until he’s full and satisfied. “This time. Try to not go outside, huh?”

Attempt 4: Jungkook goes ballistic and locks Seokjin up, not ready to risk it this time. Seokjin pounds on the bedroom door and throws an understandable fit. It hurts Jungkook, it really does.

“Why can’t I go out? You’re scaring me Jungkook!” Seokjin pounds on the door but Jungkook has locked it and wears the key around his neck, firmly he also holds onto the handle just in case.

“It’s for you Seokjin. Trust me. You might not get it now but it’s all for your own good!”

Seokjin tries to understand. The area they lived in was cheap but fairly dangerous so maybe a gang territory fight had broken out again and Jungkook was very paranoid. But there was a limit to how much Seokjin could take. Jungkook would bring Seokjin his three meals in the morning and leave them on the racks until late night where he would take them out. Once Seokjin pretended to sleep and ran for it once Jungkook unlocked the door, but he was not 5 steps out of the room before Jungkook dragged him back in and flung him onto the bed, yelling at him to just listen. To please just listen. Seokjin considered breaking up, but his heart just couldn’t do that to Jungkook. He still loved the kid too much. Seokjin convinces himself that Jungkook must have had a reason, he must have.

“Could you tell me? Please?”

“No,” Jungkook sighed, his voice muffled by the obstacle, or door. “Just trust me.”

“I do,” Seokjin sighed, placing his hand against the door in desperate need for Jungkook’s warmth. “I do.”

The 4th time ended far worse than the others and it left Jungkook ruined like never before. He went in to give Seokjin his food and found the bed empty. He assumed Seokjin went to the bathroom and waited, deciding he would give him lots of kisses and hugs. He must have been pretty lonely locked up for 4 months, after all. The bathroom is quite though and that lack of noise brings Jungkook right back to the day where he desperately called only to get no answer. “Seokjin hyung?” Jungkook knocks, not wanting to startle his hyung and wondering if maybe he fell asleep on the toilet; that could happen, right?

Jungkook leans against the vanity when his hand brushes against something. Frowning down at the paper Jungkook remembers that morning when Seokjin specifically asked for a notebook to pass time. Curious, and still waiting for Seokjin to finish doing his thing, Jungkook opens the notebook to the first page and his eyes land on the starting two words that dropped his heart.

“Dear Jungkook,”

The letter was long and flowery, just like how Seokjin usually talked. It was in the fine, scrawling, thin script of Seokjin’s perfect hand. It held everything in the formula, from the apology, to the confusion, the the eventual thanks and final goodbye; topped off with the words that destroyed Jungkook and killed him where he stood

“I love you so much, but i can’t do this anymore. If we meet in the next life, I hope we work out. I love you. I love you. I love you…”

Jungkook smashes the door off the hinges and finds Seokjin in the tub, the abandoned bottle lying useless and without its little white insects of death. “Seokjin… No…” Jungkook cries harder than ever before, a fresh wave of hatred for himself filling his chest. “I did this,” he whispered, horrified, as Jae materializes and solidifies right beside him. “I did this to him! I made him do this! I killed him this time…” mortified at his own morbid behavior, Jungkook fills the tub until it practically overflows with his tears.

“120 memories and this can all be avoided, but this time, they all have to be big memories.”

Jungkook gives out everything. Their anniversaries, accomplishments, breakthroughs; everything. He feels helpless. Every time he wakes up he remembers less and less about Seokjin, he can barely retain birthday and family members and favorite food. All the attentive details he used to know (like which flavor lollipop Seokjin loved or which brand of chicken he ordered or even his favorite color) it was all gone. Yet, Jungkook’s love and determination to save Seokjin no matter what always burned the same, in the center of his being. It was the force that moved him to go.

Attempt 5: Seokjin gets stabbed by a rampant gang member. The police get to him first and Jungkook can only see the body for 10 minutes to confirm it. He can’t hold Seokjin in his arms, caressed his cold cheeks, and he can’t even apologize this time. Jae wants a good memory and a bad memory though, and Jungkook would have complained that it wasn’t the contract rule, but he was desperate now.

Attempt 6: Six months. Six whole months Jungkook was on tooth and nail to make sure Seokjin survived. Six whole months. Then he gets kidnapped by a cereal killer and becomes the nth victim in some psychotic murder case; how was he found by the police? The loud yowling of a cat alerted neighbors that something was wrong and his corpse were, sure enough, in the dumpster. Jae grins at Jungkook, who’s haggard and merely a shell of himself. He sees Seokjin’s burned face and feels like finding the culprit and dumping acid on him, or boiling him in acid. “I helped you find the body this time, so double the memories,” Jae slyly demands and Jungkook powerlessly shakes his head.

Jungkook eventually stops keeping a count. Now when he wakes up in the morning it’s all an act. He can barely remember Seokjin’s name, he had forgotten the surname a long time ago. Most times he goes for the safe route of “hyung,” just “hyung.” One time, he wanted so desperately to call the name of his lover, so he tried a blind guess. A shot in the dark. That day Seokjin died because they fought and Seokjin stormed out only to be run over by a speeding hit-and-run driver.

“You said it wasn’t his fate to die!! Then why does he keep dying? No matter what I do! NO MATTER WHAT!” Jungkook finally has enough of it and he grips Jae’s neck in both of his hands. Passing strangers whisper about his animal abuse and snap pictures to post on SNS with enraged hashtags but Jungkook doesn’t care. This cat was the devil.

Jae scratches at his arms harshly and Jungkook finally lets go, finding it futile to choke a satisfying answer out of it. “Well… there is one thing you’re missing.”

Jungkook growls at the cocky condescending tone and grips Jae, twisting his neck harshly in anger. The cat goes limp in his hands and Jungkook gets ready to give up and just go find Seokjin in the next life. His hope and his only chance were gone. Completely gone.

“Why do humans always do something when they’ll regret it later?” Jae asks irritated, his head turning back towards the front of his body, an eerie and long grin on his feline features. “If you want to save him… you have to set fate back to what it was before. Think carefully Jeon Jungkook, that day, someone was supposed to die.”

Jungkook can somehow clearly remember the start of it all. Their walk by the train tracks and Seokjin’s sacrificing shove.

“A-are… you saying that I-I.. I-I-I have to,” Jungkook shudders and Jae howls with gleeful laughter.

“It’s not a memory you have to give. You have to die. But you won’t do it!” Jae cackles with infinite joy at his own enlightenment and the plight of such a sad human. “You can’t do it! Because you don’t know him!” No man, died for a stranger. That was the undeniable, unshakable foundation and quintessence of mortal man.

“I’ll give you a memory. Let me go back.”

“There’s no use! Don’t you see?” Jae asked in sweet glee, “you won’t be able to die for him, because you won’t remember him! You won’t love him!”

“JUST LET ME GO BACK!” Jungkook hollars as Jae’s face falls flat and becomes impassive, cold even. “Please. Just once.”

Studying Jungkook with a depraved excitement and curiosity Jae starts grinning again, “Okay boy. Give me something.”

It’s a memory Jungkook did not want to give up. His most precious one. The one that he vowed never to lose, even if he lost himself. He had been in a pretty bad accident 2 years ago, when him and Seokjin had barely started going steady. The doctors weren’t sure if Jungkook’s recover would be full and if he could function. Even now, Jungkook had a slight limp, very miniscule and unnoticeable to the common eye, but his legs cramped super easily on cold winter days. Jungkook had expected Seokjin to call it quits and run away… but Seokjin came every day after work.

“Yo! I brought more paper! This is an hours worth of talking right here!” While Jungkook ate and Seokjin talked about his day, Seokjin would sit in the other bed and fold paper cranes. Jungkook didn’t think much about it and thought maybe that was Seokjin’s hobby, origami. It certainly seemed to fit his image quite well; quite, patient, good with his hands. Whenever Seokjin finished, he would pack the cranes in his backpack and head home.

Jungkook felt like a simple gossip buddy and not a proper boyfriend. They didn’t have dates and they couldn’t go out. Jungkook felt the break up come near. Seokjin never looked at him, always focused intently on the cranes and writing on them, folding them, then plopping them right into his bag so he could simply up and leave after all his paper ran out. Jungkook got to look at Seokjin though, so he couldn’t complain at all. Seeing Seokjin’s face was the highlight of his day. The doe-like eyes intently focused on his paper, crooked fingers nimbly bending and folding and creasing, light hair being blown out of his eyes occasionally when a huffy breath left his plump pink lips. The sunset would always seep through the window and outline Seokjin’s face in gold. Even though Seokjin never looked at him, Jungkook got to see his world, so he always let Seokjin come visit.

It was a day when cramping was particularly bad and Jungkook thought he would seriously have to cut a leg off when Seokjin comes barging in with a beaming face and a very very large duffle bag in tow. “I HAVE YOUR SOLUTION!”

Seokjin drags in the duffle bag and zips it immediately. He displays a large jar full of his creations and Jungkook sits, flabbergasted and awed by the sight before his eyes. “Are these?”

“1000!” Seokjin beams proudly. He then pulls one out of his pocket and places it in Jungkook’s hand, “This is the sample. Each and every one of those in there are identical.”

Jungkook gently touches the sample crane in his hand before he notices black ink on it. “Is there a message?” Jungkook curiously asks as his fingers, unaffected by the accident, react by themselves. Seokjin proudly watches without a word as Jungkook figures it out himself and disassembles the crane carefully, in order not to tear it. Inside, with his fine, neat, handwritten words is a message:

“I wish for his full recovery! I know he can do it!”

Jungkook chokes back a moved sob before realizing what that meant. “You wrote this… in all 1000?”

Seokjin smiles and grips Jungkook’s hand, “Of course. Because… I love you.”

Jae carefully takes the memory like it’s a prized gem and swallows it whole, enjoying the flavor of victory sliding down his throat. “Fair enough. I’ll let you go back, but I’m telling you. You won’t even recognize him.”

Kim Seokjin is a blank slate to Jeon Jungkook. He neither recognizes the voice, or the face, and he certainly can’t remember an age or a name. All he does know however, is that when Seokjin kisses his forehead and bops their noses together Jungkook feels complete. He knows, that he, Jeon Jungkook, must have loved this man a lot.

“I’m super excited!” Seokjin whispered, flapping his invisible bird wings and wiggling his crooked fingers. Jungkook doesn’t know why he’s excited, but the expression on his face warms Jungkook’s heart so he quickly plays along. “I’m excited too!”

Seokjin clutches Jungkook’s hand and bounces a little with joy, “Should we wear the couple coats your mother bought us last time?”

“Of course,” Jungkook doesn’t miss a heartbeat because he really really likes this man’s smile and he wants to keep it there forever. “Whatever makes you happy.”

Seokjin coos and awws and tickles Jungkook’s side while Jungkook simply drinks in Seokjin’s features and his every word, “You’re too nice to me. I love you.”

Those words engrave themselves onto Jungkook’s heart and his determination is renewed.

“We can take the shortcut through the actual track road and get there on time to catch the train,” Jungkook helpfully advises with purpose.

“Alright,” Seokjin gives in, not too happy with his folded integrity, “let’s take the shortcut.” Jungkook studies this reaction and notes to himself that this man, (Seokjin as he found out by the name on his phone that lights up when he calls in order to find it), was very proper. He didn’t like breaking rules that were set for a reason, like safety or protection for the greater good. It was endearing. One more thing Jungkook fell in love with.

Seokjin seemed to have a hard time with the uneven ground so Jungkook supports him, it only feels natural. When Seokjin thanks him Jungkook smiles, “of course. I always have your back.”

Seokjin turns to face Jungkook when something white catches his eye. Jungkook immediately notes the face change and knows that the time to act is coming. He had no more memories to give, this was his last chance. Seokjin finally deduced what exactly the curled white blog is but the train is running in very close.

“Jungkook!” Seokjin yanks his arm back and starts running for the creature.

“SEOKJIN!” Jungkook knew it was supposed to happen, but it still makes him slightly panic nonetheless and it takes all his might to not just sprint forward and repeat the day before. Seokjin was running towards the train and Jungkook forces himself, with all the self control in the world, to wait.

Seokjin’s kind instincts would of course focus on saving the poor animal, and Jungkook’s instincts would of course focus on saving Seokjin. Jungkook runs slightly behind Seokjin and purposely lets him get to the cat first. Quickly and tenderly all at once, Seokjin scoops the cat off the ground. Jungkook stands back ready, watching. Seokjin looks down in panic at his shoe, stuck in the tracks. The train honks madly, long furious wails. Jungkook finally knows the words to say, “Seokjin… Live.”

The pain in his ribcage is bearable, and Jungkook’s so sure that it hurts less than what he went through the first day. “JUNGKOOK!” Seokjin drops Jae and waits, agonized, until the train finally moves it’s lanky body out of the way.

“Jungkook!!!”

Jungkook looks up at the grey sky that cries with him in relief. It worked. It really worked. “Jungkook! Oh my god! Hang in there! Stay with me! 119! 119 I’ll call right now don’t worry!”

Jae is looking at Jungkook with burning hatred, like he was accusing Jungkook of treason to a high mortal law, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He’s beyond himself because Seokjin is alive. And he’ll stay alive, because this is how it was supposed to be.

“Why? You idiot! Why would you do that?!” Seokjin hugs Jungkook desperately, as if he were trying to weigh down the leaving soul.

“Because I knew, losing you would be more painful… much more painful…”

Jae asks him why. Accuses him. Yells at him with his eyes.

I don’t remember this man. This man who is crying so pitifully for me. But i know i loved him a lot. I know he loved me too. Me, a stubborn, rude, clumsy, cold, guy who requires a lot. I know he dealt with my worst, i know he loved my best. He must be kind. I know he smiles a lot and he laughs even more. He’s absolutely beautiful. I didn’t know his name, I don’t know his favorite color, or his favorite food, or what he does as a living, his habits, his pet peeves, his quirks; but I know that my heart was happy when he smiled. That feeling never changed. It was something my heart remembered. I could not bare to think about how my heart would rip apart if he died. Perhaps this was selfish, but I’m happy that he’s well. I wish… I wish for him to always be happy. I know he will be!

“Jeon Jungkook please --”

“Hyung. Seokjin hyung. I loved you a lot. I love you a lot. I will love you a lot. Live. We’ll meet again next time.”

Jungkook goes limp and Seokjin feels like his heart was taken also. Like Jungkook took it with him. Seokjin feels like he’ll have to bury his dead heart right next to Jungkook’s body. The cat next to him sits and shakes it’s head, almost looking eerily like a human’s actions.

“Such a waste…” the voice purrs.

Seokjin looks at the cat, startled, as it slowly walks towards them in measure steps.

“I.. I must be crazy,” Seokjin lets out an empty laugh while sniffling, tears blurring his vision and drowning his heart in a watery grave.

“You’re not crazy. I’m just special. I’m a god, you see, and he didn’t deserve this fate… so… What would you do then, to give him another chance?”

“Anything…”

“Good…” the cat smiles. So Seokjin makes a deal, with the cat before platform 6. “A memory a day, will keep your boyfriend from death.”

(On the platform, Park Jimin stands, knife polished and newly cleaned in the Holy Waters of the Goddess of Purity, the mother of his kind. “Jae… So, this is what you’ve been up to…” Lucy looks at him and tilts her head, “Will you intervene?” Jimin starts walking towards them, power surging through his weapon. “Of course. I have to. It’s my duty now.”)

#jinkook #jinmin #seokjin #jungkook #jimin #yes. this is based on the prompt i put up

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