#first concert in three months! can i get a whoop?

[you-will-return]

--

[lvrcpid]

headcannons ii - modern!au

neteyam

— he was the type of kid who did the lemonade stands as a kid, backwards e and all.

— his led lights are always set to white. he doesn’t even use the light in his room

— he definitely goes trick or treating still. no matter the fact he’s almost 6 foot. he’s gonna get him some free candy

— speaking of candy, his favorite candy is..TWIZZLERS 🤢

— if there’s one thing neteyam will do, he gonna take a deep sigh like he a stressed father of 5

— he has his caps lock on 😟

— such a mommas boy

— ‘you need help ma?’ ‘i can pick her up for you ma’

— idc what y’all say him and jake ARENT THAT CLOSE

— nete def strays away from jakes old veteran ass but the first one to use his military discount anywhere they go 💀 he’s so me

— that boy loves him some the weeknd

— die for you is his favorite song

— the type to literally hit you while laughing

lo’ak

— he’s always in some sort of pain

— ‘my back hurt’ ‘my ankle hurts’

— he was the type of kid who got caught with kik at age 12

— when he finally got his car, he got a dent in it not even an hour later

— he thinks those a.i president videos are top tier comedy

— his closet is where he records his raps 💀

— neytiri has to FIGHT with him to make him wash his favorite hoodie

— ‘MA I CAN GO ONE MORE DAY’ ‘ITS BEEN TWO MONTHS’

— under his bed is literally comparable to a landfill. ITS SO DIRTY UNDER THERE

— when he was a kid, he ran into a wall and knocked his two front teeth out

— something tells me lo’ak is a fast eater like you could blink and his plate is CLEAR

— jake made him join jrotc 💀

kiri

— she’s def a morning person

— you can find her in her room mediating or doing yoga

— very in touch with her higher self

— she’s given herself a lot of stick and poke tattoos

— her favorite one is a heart on her finger

— shoes? hell no. crocs and slippers.

— funniest person in the family hands down

— she actually enjoys cleaning, it’s therapeutic

— the type to make twitter stans mad on purpose

— has way too much blackmail on everyone in the family

— she probably can’t dance tbh shed rather watch

— gives the MEANEST side eye to people

ao’nung

— he has facial hair (teehee)

— he probably was the type to go “boi 🫱🏽” in middle school

— he smells like irish spring ¿

— big big big sneaker head

— ‘where my hug at’ AONUNG GO TO HELL

— got that stiff athletes walk to him

— something tells me he has a letterman jacket with ‘A’ on it

— he definitely needs his license taken away. he has three tickets already

— speaking of license, his picture is his rizz. he looks so pretty in his picture

— poor baby hates eye contact, it makes him nervous

— he’s so fruity. talking bout some “POOKIE 😆”

— he’s a beast at mini golf

— da hood is his favorite roblox game. he definitely gets annoying and tells people to mic up

tsireya

— she actually believes in the tarot readings on her fyp

— she’s confident. not cocky.

— she can whoop ass. PRAY WITH HER DONT PLAY W HER

— she wants to dye her hair but she’s so scared

— she got a tattoo of a heart behind her ear behind her parents backs

— my girl loves her some astrology

— ‘WHATS YOUR RISING??’ ‘tsireya get the hell out of my room’

— she has a pet kitten named wiggles

— her lock screen is of her , lo’ak and wiggles

— she loves oreos

— her and the sims locked IN

— she’s spent at least 500 dollars on packages for the game

— she wears glasses but never wears them so she’s always squinting

— she’s a concert junkie. she’s been to almost every single nct concert she could attend

— ‘lo’ak let’s get matching silk presses’

[flowersforvax]

can we ask about your metal journey? as a light dabbler in metal i'm curious as to your favorites so far! artists and sub genres are so varied, it's kind of hard to guess

I was so excited to talk about my journey discovering heavy metal this got longer than i expected (and also I kind of misunderstood your message at first which is why I didn't just... list some bands i like whoops) so this is going behind a read more 💀

Okay so. We're gonna get the embarrassing part out of the way first and i'm gonna admit that I started listening to Metal because Stranger Things fanfiction kept name dropping bands and songs that I just had no reference for.

So! the intro for me! was Dio! because that's the big name on the back of Eddie Munson's battle vest! Still with me? Great! (You wanna know which song I listened to first??? It was Rainbow in the Dark. because I'm a predictable little fruit lmao. great song though)

I did absolutely fall in love with Ronnie James Dio's voice and also the way every youtube comment section in relation to him has someone mentioning what a great guy he was within the first ten comments (like. "We had a conversation on the street after the concert and when we met again five years later he remembered our names"-great. wtf?? How was that guy real??)

Just shooting from the hip some of my favorites of Dio (and bands RJD was part of) include Holy Diver, Heaven & Hell, Straight Through The Heart, Stargazer, Children of The Sea, The Last In Line, Don't talk to Strangers, Neon Nights Gates of Babylon, Die Young, [...]

And then I was like, well I can't listen to just Dio, right?? But I was also kind of frozen because there is SO MUCH metal out there! So I did the basic bitch thing and listened to the spotify Metal Essentials playlist which had me go "...Judas Priest? Why does that sound familiar...?" And it was, of course, because at some point I'd seen a tumblr post mentioning Rob Halford coming out in the 90s and how it was ridiculous that anyone could have listened to "Grinder" in 1980 and thought that song was in any way heterosexual. So, like the predictable little fruit that I am, I decided to work my way through Judas Priest and i'm not... close to done (it's almost like bands who started making music in the seventies and are still making music today have made a lot of music...! I'm not overwhelmed or anything!)

The Hellion/Electric Eye is a religious experience to me. No song about a totalitarian surveillance state should be allowed to fuck that hard. And YET-!

Sidenote: It's fascinating how exposing myself to Heavy Metal has changed my perception... of Heavy Metal. Like. The reason I never listened to it was because I had a very specific idea of what Metal music sounds like (which is! ridiculous! now that I know the amount of sub genres included in Metal!) but I won't lie: there's still a shit ton of metal that just sounds straight up grating to me. But! there are also songs that I love now (Painkiller by Judas Priest comes to mind) that I did not enjoy at all at first, so who knows? Maybe in another three months I'll listen to Napalm Death, even though right now I don't feel like Grindcore and I will ever get along like that.

At some point then I watched some youtube videos of Elizabeth at The Charismatic Voice reacting to Heavy Metal. I genuinely don't remember why I started doing this but I found her delightful and it was fun to watch someone else be completely new to Metal.

And still! There's a lot of metal I just don't really... get. Which I noticed when I tried listening to the official Wacken 2022 playlist to blast myself with as many bands as possible that are popular right now (to take a break from what I was doing before, imprinting on three heavy metal bands from the 80s and making them my comfort zone lol). But as i said, a lot of it still just sounds like... noise to me. But I want to get it, you know? I feel like I'm so close to getting it. So when that didn't work out I did the basic bitch thing again and searched shit like "intro to heavy metal" and "new metalhead guide" on YouTube until I landed on BangerTV's "How to get into Heavy Metal" series which I like a lot. He explains the differences in subgenres (SO MANY SUBGENRES) and gives examples of that genre that are easy to get into for people new to metal. The videos are, hilariously, directed at people who already listen to Metal who want to get other people into it, but that didn't really make a difference to me. He also once mentioned an artist as "the guy we don't talk about because of the racism" (paraphrased) which is nice. Always good to see you landed on the right page lol

And that's- that's where i'm at in my metal journey right now. I watched one of the BangerTV videos which made me want to check out Atmospheric Black Metal (verdict: weirdly? Relaxing?) and here we are. You, me and this metal playlist i started adding to whenever i really liked a song. It feels basically empty so far but it's also... somehow four hours long:

If you find anything new on there you like or if you have a recommendation, I'd love to hear it! 🤩

[eirikaanemo]

My Celebrity Childhood Friend

Warnings: minor character death, sad feels

Venti x GN!Reader

2k Words

Many years ago, when you were eight years old, you had two very close friends. Their names were Venti and Himmel. The three of you did everything together. You were very close. All of you thought your friendship would be forever and that you would always be close. But, unfortunately, that's not what happened.

One day you and Venti received the news that Himmel had passed away. It was really difficult for both of you to accept the reality of his death, grieve, and move on with your lives. In the end, you couldn’t even help each other. Spending time together only reminded you of how Himmel wasn’t there anymore.

Eventually Venti just couldn’t take it anymore. So his family moved out. Losing Himmel had hurt, but losing Venti too reopened the almost healing wound in your heart. He didn’t even say goodbye because he thought he’d chicken out if he did. And so there you were, friendless, hurt, and feeling very, very alone.

Your only solace was in practicing the piano. The three of you had all been learning instruments and playing together before. The idea was to become a band of sorts together and play music professionally. Himmel played violin, Venti played guitar, and you played piano. Playing the piano was all you had left of them, so you continued playing and practicing it.

Years pass and you move on as much as you can. You make new friends and try new things. Piano is still important to you but you do new things now too. But even with all of this, there’s a part of you that left with Venti and Himmel. The hurt in your heart is no longer a gaping wound. Yet the pain has never truly gone away.

Then one day you hear a familiar voice on the radio. That voice and guitar combo sounded very familiar. It was a good song and you enjoyed listening to it, but you just couldn’t get the feeling of familiarity out of your mind. However, once the radio host introduced the song, you immediately understood. “And that was Soaring Bird by The Bard. Venti really did himself proud on this one…,” they continued, but you were no longer listening.

Venti was on the radio! What could this mean? You hurriedly took out your phone and ran a search. There he was, Venti, also known as The Bard, is a singer/songwriter who rose to fame after a stint on a television talent show a couple months ago. Well, what do you know? Your childhood friend has followed your childhood dream.

Part of you feels left behind, but you accepted that had happened years ago. So instead you decided to be supportive! Suddenly you have a new favorite singer and you just have to have all his albums. Physical copies, so you can display them. Your bedroom walls are covered with posters.

You now have more The Bard themed t-shirts than you have regular shirts. There’s a concert of his you can go to? You’re there. You promote him with everyone you know. If you hadn’t converted your friends to the truth of Venti supremacy they probably would have gotten sick of your antics by now. Instead they’re almost as invested as you are.

When he finally releases a new album you are thrilled. It’s been almost a year since he released his last one and you’ve been starving for new content. You are first in line to the store to buy the album and listen to it as soon as possible. Track one through four are fantastic and you enjoy them a lot! But then track five starts to play.

It’s more melancholy and nostalgic than other songs he has written. And then you hear the words. The words touch your heart, soothing and healing some of the pain that has remained. At the end he takes a moment to dedicate it to his childhood friend, to you. Not by name, but you know what he means by “my old childhood friend”. You’re tearing up.

I’m sorry I was too blind to see

That you were suffering as much as me

You were left behind, I was moving on

And you were left to carry on

It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair

That I chose to just leave you there

We’re not really close now, are we

But I just want to say I’m sorry

You listened to it over and over again, crying in your room. Maybe it was stupid but that was something you didn’t even know you’ve been wanting to hear for years. Knowing that he felt bad about leaving you behind and hearing an apology from him meant the world to you.

And it just so happens that the song he dedicated to you is your friends’ new favorite song. If they didn’t know about your history with him before, then they sure know now. You’re still struggling to not cry every time it plays. Sure, maybe some of your dirty laundry was now being aired all around the world. But that wasn’t important.

What was important was that your heart was finally able to heal. You were truly able to feel happy again, for the first time since you were eight years old. Life had color again. There was more of a bounce to your step. Your friends noticed that your smiles even seemed more real now.

So when you learned that Venti would be doing an album signing event, you just knew you had to go. And you knew just which album you wanted to have signed. Now all you could think about was getting the album signed. How would he react to seeing you again? Would he recognize you? You really hope he does. It would really hurt if he doesn’t.

All of a sudden you’re now worrying if this is a good idea at all. Your friends managed to convince you to go, but you were really close to not going at all. And even now that you’re here at the signing you’re half considering running away. But instead you steel your courage and get in line.

You try not to think about it as the line slowly creeps forward. Making small talk with those around you in line might help, but you’re too nervous to even try social interaction. You’re twentieth in line, then tenth, then fifth, then second. Now it’s your turn and you approach the table he’s sitting at to sign the albums.

He’s wearing a white button up shirt, green slacks, and a green beanie with a flower on it. He’s dyed the tips of his braids teal and wears some light makeup to bring out the color of his eyes. You suddenly feel very underdressed as you anxiously walk up and hand him the album.

“Hi Venti,” you say softly. “It’s good to see you again.” He looks up sharply and freezes for a second, wide eyed. “Oh my gosh!” He exclaims, jumping up out of his seat. “It’s so good to see you again! It’s been so long!” You smile, feeling more comfortable and sure of yourself now that you know he recognizes you.

Someone behind him clears their throat and sits back down. “I can’t really talk right now,” he admits, sheepishly. “We don’t want to hold up the line, but hold on a sec.” He opens the album and scribbles something on the inside of the opaque cover. “That’s my number,” he whispers quietly to you. “Text me later, okay? I’ll get back to you when I can.”

You nod and move on, only realizing he didn’t actually sign the case until you were down the hall from where he was signing. Laughing a little, you sit down on a bench and pull out your phone. That was such a Venti-like thing for him to do. Sometimes he would get so excited that he’d forget what he was supposed to be doing.

Opening your texting app, you typed in his number and sent him a message.

You: Hi! Is this the right number? I’m the one you wrote song number five about.

It took a couple hours for him to reply. Which is very understandable considering how he was probably signing albums for a while.

Venti: Yes! This is the right number! It’s so good to hear from you again :)

Venti: And I’m so glad you heard that song

Venti: I really am sorry about leaving like that

You: I won’t lie and say that it’s fine, because it really hurt that you left like that

You: But I really appreciate your song that you wrote for me. I cry every time I hear it

Venti: Oh no! I didn’t mean to make you sad :(

You: Happy tears, Venti. They’re all happy tears

Venti: Oh, okay, that’s good :)

Venti: Want to come eat lunch with the staff and me?

Venti: They’re all really curious about you

Venti: The mysterious childhood friend I wrote a whole song about

You: Sure! How do I find you?

Venti: You don’t! Where are you? I’ll send someone to pick you up ;)

You send him your location and wait around for someone to come pick you up. After a while a nicely dressed woman approaches you and gestures for you to follow her. She leads you to a car and drives you to a restaurant. A waiter takes you to one of the closed off rooms for group events.

Approximately two seconds after the door is closed, you are hug tackled to the floor. Venti cheerfully cheers your name right into your ear. You grumble good naturedly and swat at him until he laughs and gets off you. He offers his hand, you take it, and he helps you stand up. Some chuckles from the staff tell me they’re just as amused as he is by the situation.

This sets the tone for your lunch. It’s lighthearted and you have a great time getting to know each other again. He introduces the staff and they admit they’ve been curious about his childhood friend he wrote a song about. You enjoy eating lunch with them a lot, and all of you are disappointed when you have to go.

You continue to chat as long as you can while preparing to leave. As you’re gathering your stuff to go, you come across the album that he never actually signed. “Oh yeah,” you laugh. “Venti, you never actually signed my album!”

“Whoops! I’ll sign that right now.” He declares. “Though I must admit that I feel a little awkward signing stuff for you.” Finishing writing with a flourish, he hands the album back to you. “But I guess I better get used to it,” he continues. “You better bring the rest of the albums next time!”

Your smile is so bright that he has to squint for a moment.. “I’m looking forward to it already.” You say. “See you later?” He beams right back. “Yep! I’ll let you know the next time we can meet up!”

The grin stays on your face all the way home.

You meet up whenever you can after that, though your schedules don’t always match up enough to allow it. Video calls are common when he goes on tour. It’s like the two of you never split. And eventually your friendship becomes something more.

“Hey, could I ask you a question?” Venti asks you over a video call one night. He’s acting a little funny, nervous with a dash of hope and excitement. “Would you like to go out with me sometimes? Like a date?” You chuckle, amused. “Venti, you’re on tour right now. It’s not like we could go out to dinner or something.”

“You’re right that we can’t go out to dinner together, but we could eat at the same time over a video call! I’ll even call and order food for you or something!” Venti plans. “Sure,” you agree. “I think I’d like that.” He pumps his fist in the air. “Yes!” He shouts. “I’m gonna make this the best long-distance date ever!”

And so he does.

[tcm]

Sammy Davis Jr.: Civil Rights Activist and Natural Born Entertainer By Susan King

Sammy Davis Jr. was an exceptional talent. He could sing (you’ll get chills up your spine listening to his recording of “I Gotta Be Me”), dance, act and lest we forget, he was a member of the Rat Pack. He and Harry Belafonte made history in 1956 when they became the first African Americans to earn Emmy nominations.

But most people forget Davis was also very involved in the fight for civil rights in the 1950s and ‘60s. In January 1961, he joined Rat Packers Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin, as well as Harry Belafonte, Mahalia Jackson and Tony Bennett, for the Carnegie Hall benefit concert Tribute to Martin Luther King. He also performed at the Freedom Rally in Los Angeles that year and at the March on Montgomery in 1965.

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. even wrote Davis a thank you note: “Not very long ago, it was customary for Negro artists to hold themselves aloof from the struggle for equality… Today, greats like Harry Belafonte, Sidney Poitier, Mahalia Jackson and yourself, of course, are not content to merely identify with the struggle. They actively participate in it, as artists and as citizens, adding the weight of their enormous prestige and thus helping to move the struggle forward.”

In 1968, Davis received the prestigious Spingarn Medal from the NAACP for his 1965 autobiography Yes, I Can. Nevertheless, considering his work for the late Dr. King, Davis shocked the world in 1972 when he supported Richard Nixon, who had a poor track record when it came to civil rights and would refer to African Americans in derogatory terms behind closed doors. But there was Davis, attending the opening night of the Republican convention in Miami Beach and then performing a concert for Republican youth. And it was during the concert that he hugged Nixon.

The backlash in the African American community was loud and strong. Wil Haywood stated in his biography In Black and White: The Life of Sammy Davis, Jr., “Sammy failed to understand Blacks’ distrust of Nixon’s ultraconservative views. The hug at the Republican National Convention, in the glare of the nation’s spotlight, seemed too to minstrelsy.“

Davis later said: “By their definition I had let them down. In their minds there were certain things I could do, certain rules I could break. I married a white woman and I hardly got any heat. But by going with a Republican president I had broken faith with my people.”

In a 1976 Ebony interview, Davis reflected that working with Nixon was not a betrayal to African Americans but a way to help Black citizens. “When my wife, Altovise, and I were invited to the White House after the November elections, I repeated [my recommendations],” he noted. “We started to rap, and he asks, ‘What can I do?’ Come on Sam, tell me what I can do.’ So, I laid it down again.”

He told Nixon that the funds cut from anti-poverty programs needed to be reinstated and that Martin Luther King’s birthday should be made a national holiday. But he soon realized Nixon wasn’t listening to him. He regretted supporting Nixon.

Davis was born in Harlem on December 8, 1925 to vaudevillians Sammy Davis Sr. and Elvera Sanchez, who was of Afro-Cuban descent. The couple separated in 1928, and Sammy Jr. lived with his father and his grandmother, Mama. He was just three when he joined the Will Mastin Trio with his father and Mastin. Davis never went to school. In a 2014 Los Angeles Times interview, his daughter Tracey Davis recalled her father telling her, “What have I got? No looks, no money, no education. Just talent.”

As a youngster, he appeared in short films, including Rufus Jones for President (’33). He toured with the Mastin Trio until he was drafted into the Army during World War II, where he suffered so much abuse from white soldiers that his nose was broken three times. “How did he make it and so many others not make it?,” Tracey Davis reflected. “He had talent. But what he went through would have killed a lot of people or make them bitter or just messed with your life so bad you couldn’t get over it.”

In 1954, Davis survived a car crash on his way home to Los Angeles after performing in Vegas. He lost an eye. He wore an eye-patch for six months and then was fitted with a glass eye. Two years later, he opened on Broadway in the musical Mr. Wonderful.

It was announced in August 2020 that a film is in pre-production about the ill-fated relationship in 1957 between Davis and Kim Novak. The relationship was quashed, as it would have killed Novak’s career and supposedly, it quite literally would have killed Davis – a hit was allegedly put out on his life. To keep the heat off of him, Davis was briefly married in 1958 to dancer Loray White.

In 1960, Davis married striking Swedish actress Mai Britt. According to Tracey Davis, her mother, who had appeared THE YOUNG LIONS (‘58) and THE BLUE ANGEL (‘59), was dropped by 20th Century-Fox because of her marriage. Tracey said her parents “didn’t regret being together. My mom loved my dad like crazy and my dad loved my mother. My mother was so lucky because her parents didn’t care.” Though they divorced in 1968, she said they never fell out of love. Before his death of cancer in 1990 at the age of 64, Davis told his daughter why they broke up: “I just couldn’t be what she wanted me to be. A family man. My performance schedule was rigorous.”

Tracey said that her dad and Sinatra were great friends offstage. “He was like a good cushion for dad.” And, if Davis ran into trouble due to his race, Sinatra was there to fight the good fight for his friend. “He’d say, ‘Oh, Sammy can’t come in here? Then I’m not coming in.’ I think it gave my dad such comfort knowing he had this big brother out there that would go to the mat for him.” Davis, who was a chain smoker and was rarely seen without a glass of vermouth, had a falling out with Sinatra in the early 1970s, because the performer was using drugs. “Frank was mad he was squandering himself, doing stupid things. He let dad know about it and dad was kind of well, I don’t care.’’ Eventually, Davis did care and apologized to the Chairman of the Board.

Being a member of the Rat Pack gave Davis a certain visibility, especially in the films they made together, including OCEAN’S 11 (‘60) and ROBIN AND THE 7 HOODS (‘64), but all of the actors were just having a good time on screen. These vehicles didn’t show Davis’s strength as a dramatic actor. But occasionally, he got the opportunity, such as in ANNA LUCASTA (‘58) opposite Eartha Kitt, CONVICTS 4 (‘62) and A MAN CALLED ADAM (‘66). And in 1964, he returned to the Broadway stage in the Charles Strouse-Lee Adams musical Golden Boy, for which he earned a Tony nomination.

“He was very representative of a time and place,” said Strouse in a 2003 L.A. Times interview. “He was created from a lot of forces, like the Earth coming in and ‘whoop,’ here comes Sammy Davis. He was brilliant along with everything else. He was the biggest star of the day and in the theater, he had no peer. We sold out all the time.”

But Davis also missed a lot of performances of Golden Boy. “He got himself very tired or perhaps depressed or nervous,” reflected Stouse, adding that Davis stretched himself thin “the way lemmings go to the edge of the cliff and then they go off. He didn’t go off, but he was always on the end of the cliff. He was very driven and yet very mild-mannered and almost submissive to Sinatra. He had to be loved. He wouldn’t get off the stage.”

As he got older, Davis stopped wearing flashy clothes and jewelry and got back to basics as a singer and performer. And, he is the best thing about his last film, TAP (‘89), with Gregory Hines. Their tap dance will make your heart beat a bit faster. Tracey Davis said though her father was “incredibly driven,” he had a “huge heart, a zest for life. He had more energy than anyone I had known.”

[captain-josslett]

Broken Melody - Part Two

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven,

Summary: Grammy Award winning Emma Danvers is the first to say she has a pretty good life. But what happens when it implodes around her and it looks like things will never be the same again?

Words: 3k+

Warnings: None... yet… Maybe need a filling for all the fluff I wrote in this part through...

Pairings: Emma Danvers x Lena Luthor (Eventual)

In This Part: Emma and Lena spend some time together. It’s not a date, even though they both wish it is.

The angst still hasn’t happened yet! Got probably two more parts to write before things get angsty! 

As always B!D is named.

Thank you for reading and let me know if you wanna be tagged or any general feedback will be greatly appreciated.

Taglist: @thewitchandtheassassin , @natasha-danvers , @life-is-hella-unfair , @finleyfray​, @supergirl-writingz​

Emma Danvers is happily playing on her Playstation, munching on popcorn and having some much needed rest time. The band are having a break from the farewell sold out world tour. With the holidays coming up they decided to split the tour up to allow them time with their families. The last part will be around America after the New Year. The last gig happening in National City, where their first major gig happened. Emma pushed this idea, finding it quite poetic to finish with the band in the place it all accelerated for them.

Emma didn’t mind the over a month long break. It meant she was home for Thanksgiving and spending more time hanging out with her sister’s, friends and Lena.

Speaking of Lena, the first thing Emma did when she was back in National City was to surprise the CEO on her birthday. She took her best friend to all their favourite hang outs that had a gift at each place until leading Lena back to her apartment where the Superfriend’s were waiting to celebrate with her. By the end of the day Lena was a tearful mess and thanked Emma as she held onto the blonde in a tight hug. 

Emma smiles at the memory and her eyes quickly look at the clock above the huge tv. They had planned to have dinner together tonight as recently Lena has been so busy planning Gala’s and Charity events as well as her CEO job, Lena hasn’t had much time to meet her friend individually.

Seeing it was time to get ready Emma smiles, saves the game and turns everything off. She gets up and bounces into her bedroom to change into some smart casual clothes.  

Quickly looking through her walk in wardrobe Emma picks out her favourite deep blue skinny jeans that make her legs and ass look incredible. A white lace shell top under a red blazer and black high heels. She finishes the outfit off with her layered necklace, a leather wrap around bracelet and natural looking makeup. She pulls her hair out of the high ponytail and lets her naturally wavy blonde hair fall around her shoulders.

Looking herself over in the mirror Emma nods and grabs her green clutch. Placing her keys, small journal and phone inside. Making her way down to the bug Emma hums a song she’s working on, but, as always, it’s not quite there yet.

Soon she pulls into L-Corp’s garage, the security guard waving her through. She parks in Lena’s space and gets out.

“Hi Miss Danvers!” The security guard calls and waves at her.

“Hi David!” Emma calls back as she locks the bug. She waves and smiles at him as she makes her way to the elevator.

When the elevator doors slide open Emma steps inside and presses the button for the top floor where Lena’s office is. Her phone pings inside her clutch and Emma gets it out. Smiling at the message Kara sent to the Danvers sisters group chat.

Kara: I hope you and Lena have a nice time tonight!

Emma goes to respond but a message from Alex appears below Kara’s.

Alex: Traitor.

Kara: What did I do?

Alex: Not you! Emma! It’s sister night!

Emma: Aww I’m sorry Alex, but this was the only evening Lena had free. I promise to make it up to you.

Alex: How?

Emma: Anything you want.

Kara: Yea I’m actually a bit annoyed too!

Emma snorts with laughter at Kara’s message. The doors slide open and Emma slowly exits the elevator as she composes her next text.

Emma: Same goes for you Kara. Also, here’s an idea… Why don’t you both meet up? *Le Gasp!*

Alex: Kara, I’ll be round in 30 mins!

Kara: Bring Potstickers please!

Alex: Already ordered!

Alex: Have a great evening Peanut!

Emma: Thanks! You too! Love you!

Kara: Love you too! (followed by hundreds of emoji’s that widens Emma’s smile.)

Alex: Love you too! (followed by a red heart emoji and means just as much to Emma.)

“Are you planning on coming in?” Lena’s bemused voice calls out.

Emma looks up and realises she stopped in the open doorway of Lena’s office.

“Meh, I’m okay here.” Emma cheekily says and hovers for a few seconds before approaching Lena’s desk.

The raven haired beauty smirks at her before looking down at the papers she was signing. Emma’s eyes wander over Lena’s torso, mainly her chest. How the off the shoulder black dress fits in all the right places. Emma can’t wait to see it fully when Lena stands. In the meantime, Emma goes right up to Lena and hugs her from behind.

“Hi.” Emma whispers and feels a sudden urge to kiss Lena’s neck and back, which is on show due to Lena’s high ponytail and the off the shoulder dress. It takes everything in her to not look down at Lena’s chest.

“Hi.” Lena responds in a breathy voice, almost like she senses what Emma is feeling. “I’m almost done.”

“Take your time.” Emma gives Lena a squeeze before pulling away and stepping out onto the balcony.

Lena’s hand moves swiftly across the pages as she signs the last of the papers for the Christmas Charity Concert L-Corp is organising for the Luthor Children’s Hospital next week.

When she’s finished Lena gathers them up in a neat pile and rises from her chair. She looks around her office to see where Emma is and pauses when she finds her on the balcony, looking out at the city. Lena can’t help but gaze up and down Emma’s toned body. When her eyes land on Emma’s shapely ass, she bites her lip slightly. But when Lena realises where her thoughts are going she quickly shakes her head and turns away, grabbing her handbag and clearing her throat.

“Ready to go?” Emma’s voice says behind her.

“Yes!” Lena says over her shoulder. “All done.”

“Great!” Emma walks up to Lena’s desk, her eyes going up and down as she takes in all of Lena. She goes to walk out of the office but is stopped by Lena’s hand on her shoulder.

“Can I have a proper hug now?” Lena smiles brightly at the blonde.

“Of course you can!” Emma wraps her arms around the CEO. Sighing happily when Lena’s arms do the same. “You seriously give the best hugs.”

“Don’t let your sister’s hear you say that!” Lena laughs into Emma’s neck, causing the blonde to shiver.

“Yea, they’d both have a fit!” Emma chuckles as she pulls away. She holds out her arm for Lena to take and they exit the office. “How’s your day been?” Emma asks while they walk to the elevator.

Lena sighs heavily as she presses the call button.

“That good huh?”

“Well, it's recently gotten a lot better.” Lena squeezes Emma’s arm. Her eyebrows almost shoot up when she feels the muscle underneath. She knows Emma is fit, but not that fit. The doors slide open stopping her train of thought and they both enter. Lena lets go and Emma leans against the side of the elevator, looking at her friend.

“Yea must be such a relief finishing for the day.”

“I meant seeing you, you dork.” Lena's smile widens when Emma throws back her head and laughs. Lena loves Emma’s voice but her laugh is pure magic. She could listen to it for days.

“I’m honoured. Seeing you has been the highlight of mine too.”

“But the night is still young.” Lena tilts her head.

“I can’t imagine anything that can top you.”

‘I wish you would.’ Lena thinks, almost biting her lip again. “What if the restaurant has Creme Brûlée?” She chooses to say instead.

Emma pouts her lips, as if deep in thought.

“Arse.” Lena shoves Emma’s shoulder lightly causing the blonde to laugh again.

“I think it would come a close second to you.”

Lena’s insides melt at that comment and she smiles shyly.

The doors slide open and Emma holds her arm out again, walking with Lena to the bug. She opens the passenger door for her friend.

“My how gentlewomanly!” Lena slides in and Emma closes the door beside her.

‘Cool it Em!’ The blonde berates herself. ‘This is not a date.’ Emma gets into the driver’s seat and starts the bug. ‘Rao I wish it was a date.’

“So, how was your day? Other than seeing me being the highlight?” Lena asks as Emma pulls out of the garage, waving at the security guard as they pass.

“It was… okay?”

“Is that a statement or a question?”

“Er… I mean, I went for a 10k run and did some weight lifting. Worked a bit on a song, played Mass Effect.” Emma shrugs. “It’s been a very general day for me.”

“How you run 10k and do weights everyday is beyond me.”

“It’s fun!”

“If you say so darling.” Lena laughs and rolls her eyes.

“I do say so!” Emma laughs too. “But I do have recovery days as well.”

A noticeable drum beat starts on the radio and Emma whoops, recognising it as one of her current favourite songs. She turns the volume up high and dances along. Smiling brightly when Lena joins in. Not caring that people can see them when they wait at a red light.

A few do a double take as they walk past the bug and wave when they realise it is Emma in the yellow VW and Emma waves back with a smile. Generally fans in National City are respectable to Emma’s privacy and space. When fans do approach her Emma is always polite and will always give them her time. One such time she sat with an kind, eldery lady who had approached her while Emma was sat on a bench at the park. She gushed at how Emma’s music had helped her during the loss of her husband. Tears fell down her old cheeks and Emma gave her a tissue. The blonde listened to the many stories the eldery woman had and gave her a hug when they had to part ways.

Soon Emma and Lena pull up outside the restaurant and valet jumps to open Lena’s door. Emma reluctantly gets out to let the valet drive the bug to the parking area.

“The bug will be fine darling.” Lena says taking a hold of Emma’s hand as the blonde watches the yellow VW be driven away.

Emma weaves her fingers through Lena’s and smiles at her crush. Nodding she walks to the entrance and takes the elevator up to the top floors where the restaurant is.

“Ah! Ms. Luthor and Ms. Danvers! Welcome back!” The host greets them warmly before showing them to their favourite table in a secluded corner by the window. Emma especially loves the view. They are given the menus and the specials for the day. Emma quickly scans through but she already knows what she is ordering.

While they wait for the food the two women catch up. Chatting about anything and everything. Smiles permanently on their faces.

“So how’s things for the events going?” Emma asks while sipping on her Pepsi Max. She’s never been a lover of alcohol, seeing the effects it has on Alex and her peers put her off for life.

“It’s-” Lena pauses for a moment.

“Lee?” Emma frowns.

“Well, we’ve hit a bit of a road block.” Lena sits up a bit straighter. “You know the concert happening next week?”

Emma nods and she tilts her head. She’d already got her ticket with the Superfriends and was planning on anomalously donating a large sum of money to the children’s hospital.

“Well, the act had to pull out and I’m not sure where to find a replacement so quickly. I would ask you but I know this is your rest time and I completely respect that-”

“Lee!” Emma reaches out and takes a hold of Lena’s hand on top of the table. Lena’s cheeks start to blush, but she is blaming the red wine she is drinking. “Take a breath!” Lena does.

“Sorry, it’s just been a bit stressful.”

“I bet.” Emma says sympathetically. “But, I would love to help.”

“Really?”

“Of course! I know of a great gospel choir that could sing with me. Would actually be nice doing something different to country, you know?”

And Lena did know. Emma’s singing voice didn’t naturally have the country tone so she did have to add it in. Lena had been blown away one time when she heard Emma’s natural tone. She had been waiting for Emma to finish in the shower and she heard her voice singing out. Doing runs and riffs that had Lena’s jaw hitting the floor. Lena even got closer and stood by the door to listen better. When Lena heard Emma approach the door she quickly and quietly scurried away.

“Yes, would do you good to try something different too? For your solo career? Let the fans hear more of what you can do.”

“That’s if they want to hear it.” Emma looks away at the city below them, her insecurities bubbling to the surface.

“They would be fools not to Em.” Lena squeezes Emma’s hand and the blonde looks back at her.

“Thanks.” Emma gives Lena a small smile. The anxiety of stepping out into her solo career still worries her. “So-” Emma lets go of Lena’s hand and takes out the journal from her clutch. Opening it and clicking her pen. Her mind switching into work mode as she thinks about the concert. “What songs would you want in the set? And for how long? Do you want the audience to sing along? Will you give a speech?”

Lena pauses as she sips her wine. “Well… I guess the classics and no I don’t think the audience need to participate. It’s not a carol service. You have free rein other than it needs to be wrapping up around 9pm. A speech will be given, probably from someone from the hospital rather than me. Maybe ten or twelve songs, allowing the speech to be near the end and have an upbeat song to finish.”

“Okay.” Emma makes some notes and song ideas. She grins as a surge of excitement hits her. “Can I be a bit rude and message the lead of the choir, Karen?”

“You may. I mean I have dumped this on you.” Lena laughs and takes a sip of her wine while Emma gets her phone out.

“Er… Will the choir be paid?” Emma looks up at her. “I mean I can pay them, that’s no issue. Forget I said anything.”

“Em! It’s okay. And yes the choir will be paid. Ask them what they, Karen? Charges.”

Emma nods and quickly sends Karen a message. Who responds instantly in all capital letters that they will definitely perform with her at the concert and, in Emma’s opinion, quite a low price. Emma sends a message back confirming a time to meet the next day to go over ideas and songs. Already planning a set list in her head.

Lena watches Emma with a smile on her face. How Emma starts to radiate even more with her excitement.

The food soon arrives and like a true Danvers Emma digs right in.

“Oh Lee!” Emma moans, causing Lena’s brain to short circuit. “You need to try this!” Emma puts a piece of her food on her fork and holds it out for Lena. She watches as the raven haired beauty leans forward and slowly wraps her mouth around her fork. Emma swallows thickly when Lena moans too.

“That is delicious.” Lena agrees. “Do you want to taste mine?”

“Sure.” Emma waits for Lena to cut into the food and hold the fork out to her. And like Lena, Emma tilts forward, keeping her eyes on the raven haired beauty as she wraps her mouth around the fork. Emma can’t help the sound of pleasure that escapes her lips as she tastes the food. Closing her eyes briefly and when she opens them she swears she sees Lena biting her lip. “Wow, you made a good choice there.”

“I’m not sharing!” Lena laughs and starts eating again.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Emma says before digging in.

However they do share a Créme Brûlée and Lena has to clench her legs together when Emma sounds like she’s having a mouth orgasm with every bite.

“Okay, no, maybe this is the highlight of my day.” Emma says while licking the spoon and winking at a blushing Lena.

“I don’t know whether I should be offended or not.” Lena raises an eyebrow at the blonde.

“Nah, nothing compares to you Lena. You know that.”

The two women smile softly at each other before continuing their conquest of devouring the dessert.

When it’s time to leave Lena is having an intense tug of war with herself. She wants to come clean. To reveal to Emma that her feelings have gone deeper than friendship. As Emma drives her back to her apartment Lena wants to ask Emma to come up with her. But her past stops her from talking.

“Lee?” Emma notices how quiet Lena has gotten. “You okay?”

“Yea.” Lena says softly.

“You sure?” Emma presses further, knowing Lena is not fine.

“Yes, just tired I guess.”

“I bet you are!” Emma knows this is only partly the truth. Instead she drops it and gives Lena a sympathetic smile. “I really appreciate you spending time with me. I really do mean it when I say it's the highlight of my day, well week, even month! And I know how busy you are around this time of year, so thank you.”

“You’re welcome love.” Lena can’t deny the warmth that fills her heart. “It’s been the highlight of my month too.”

All too soon Emma is parked outside of Lena’s apartment building. “Well, thanks again. Shall I let you know the order of songs etc?”

Lena nods. “You can also send it to Jess as well.”

“Will do.” Emma smiles brightly and leans forward, opening her arms up for a hug. Lena happily falls into them. “Love you Lee.”

“Love you too Em.” ‘More than you’ll ever know.’

They sit like this for a while, just enjoying being in each other’s arms. Lena finally pulls away, knowing if she doesn’t go she will never leave.

“Good night.” She says while opening the door.

“Night. Sleep well!”

Lena is about to step out of the bug when she thinks ‘Fuck it!’ Lena leans back over to Emma and places a kiss on the corner of Emma’s mouth.“You too.” She quickly gets out of the car and enters the building. If she’d looked back she would have seen the brightest smile on Emma’s face as she watches her go.

(Part Three)

[freckledacademic]

hello everyone!

i had someone request a breakdown of what my medical school/MSTP application looked like, so here we go!

FIRST - a disclaimer! this is my application, and it worked for me. it doesn’t look like the application of my classmates and other medical school friends who also got in. one of my friends got a below average MCAT, but her clinical experience and extracurriculars meant she got into (and is going to!) a highly-ranked medical school. on the other hand, my application was weighted fairly heavily in the direction of academics, since that’s my strength!

also, keep in mind i was applying to medical scientist training programs with the goal of getting an MD/PhD -- my app is also pretty research heavy

onto the specifics!

general

i went to a small liberal arts college with a focus on research. nearly every student does a senior thesis, and science senior theses usually involve lots of lab work/data generation done by the student.

i double-majored in mathematics and biochemistry & molecular biology, and between those classes, gen eds, and music, i was generally over full-time but just under the credit limit per semester.

i took the MCAT in May of 2018, and applied that summer. my AMCAS was in July 9th, and I got approved ~August 10th. this was between my junior (17-18) and senior (18-19) years. i matriculated at my med school in july of 2019.

numbers

GPA - 3.97 (ish? i got two A-s, and everything else was As)

MCAT - 519 (130 on three sections, 129 on one. i don’t remember which one though whoops)

clinical experience

shadowing - shadowed with two different doctors - an oncologist over the course of a semester, and a clinical pathologist for a day. total # of hours - relatively low, maybe 15-25.

clinical volunteering  - i volunteered at a free clinic near my college for one afternoon every week or so during most of junior spring and senior year. total # of hours - ~60 hrs

medical ethics program - related to the longitudinal oncology shadowing. once a month, throughout the spring semester of my junior year, we would meet to discuss articles we’d been assigned to read on a topic eg: end of life care, malpractice, etc. total # of hours -  ~10 hrs

research experience

research assistant, yeast genetics lab - i worked in this lab during the spring of my first year and during the summer after. it was my first lab/research experience, and it taught me a lot regarding lab techniques and lab mentality. garnered me my one and (still) only publication! total # of hours -  400+ hrs

research assistant, computational biology lab - i worked (and went on to do my senior thesis) in this lab during my junior year. it was partially an excuse to get started with my thesis coding early, because it was going to take a lot of time, but it also helped me get acquainted with my thesis advisor! total # of hours - ?

research intern, cancer research center - this was an internship i applied for that was specifically for students with a year left in college that occurred the summer between my junior and senior year. i worked with a biostatistician on developing a machine-learning model to predict disease risk based off of demographic data. i learned a lot about R, statistics, and regression models. i also learned that i don’t like R, statistics, and machine learning models lmao. note: this didn’t technically go in my AMCAS iirc, because i applied while i was *at* the internship. i did talk about it at interviews!

senior thesis - this was another thing that wasn’t in my app itself, because at the time it hadn’t been written lmao. it was something i was able to talk about at interviews, but it being ~still in progress~ did complicate it

on-campus jobs

peer tutor - got recommended by a professor my first year for a different tutoring program, but my schedule was a mess so i ended up as a one-on-one peer tutor! i really enjoyed it, but i had to drop it with how busy i got junior year, so i only did it for two years (freshman spring --> junior fall). total # of hours - 210 hrs

laboratory course TA, cell biology - again, got asked by a professor to do this. specifically TA’d 2/3 sections junior fall, and then 1/2 or 1/3 sections every semester after that. also held office hours, maintained longitudinal lab experiments, and supervised students performing experiments. total # of hours - 800 hrs (TAing this class was absurd and i did it for four semesters)

extracurriculars

collegiate choir member - i adore singing, and part of the reason i went to the college i did was so i could still partake in music while pursuing a science degree. i was a part of my school’s auditioned choir for all four years at my school, and it involved 1h15m practices 4 days a week, regular concerts, and an annual spring tour. total # of hours - 500 hrs

chorus manager - i was a manager of the chorus as well for three years (sophomore through senior). i was very much in charge of the organization - making sure everyone had uniforms, that those uniforms were on for concerts and that everyone was wearing shoes. shepherding people on trips, solving problems, taking attendance, etc. etc. total # of hours - 250 hrs

i also took voice lessons, though i don’t think i put that down on my app? iirc there’s a limit to how many activities you can add?

other

honor societies 

Phi Beta Kappa - general undergrad honor society, inducted junior year

Mu Alpha Theta - mathematics honor society, inducted sophomore year

Beta Beta Beta - biology honor society, inducted sophomore (?) year

awards

Barry Goldman scholarship - honorable mention

Dean’s List - all 8 semesters

various prizes specific to my undergrad

academic merit scholarship, minor voice scholarship

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

to sum it all up....

i think the pros of my application include a strong academic presence, proof of my interest in research, and the existence of significant interests outside the STEM pathway - namely, music!

i think the major con of my application was a really weak clinical experience section, tbh. i also feel like some schools on the other side of the country from my undergrad like. hadn’t heard of it lmaooo.

everyone’s application will be different!! and that’s good, and okay, and you’ll be fine. you want to think about the things that make you you, and potentially the things that reflect on the kind of doctor that you’d like to be.

[winterscaptain]

i loved hotch’s top 3 parent moments, but what are his top 3 most defeated moments & how do the kids/mom help him cope/feel better

ooooh these got REALLY long so they’re going under a cut (they’re basically three drabbles so i included the ajf tag list (whoops))

a joyful future masterlist

1.

aaron comes back home from very long day full of infuriating people and politics, and isaac has left everything all over the living room floor. he trips on something (probably shoes) and breaks. he doesn’t get mean or anything, but his bark is definitely harsher than he intended. isaac is so so upset, and he holes himself up in his room. aaron feels awful, instantly. mom runs interference, and spends some time in the dark with isaac so he can calm down with minimal stimulus. when isaac is ready, mom goes back into the living room and finds aaron distraught, his head in his hands. 

“i promised myself i wasn’t going to become my father.” 

mom just wraps around him like a koala and is like “you’re not. you just had a bad day. for god’s sake, jack snapped at me over something ridiculous yesterday, and isaac and soph got into a knock-down drag-out fight last week about a puzzle while caro was simultaneously throwing a tantrum about fruit snacks. we’re all allowed to have bad days, and you can make it right. he’s a smart kid - just tell him what’s going on and remind him that you’re not upset with him and that you love him.” 

aaron goes to isaac’s door, knocks, and waits for isaac to tell him he can come in. aaron sits at the foot of his bed, waiting. they sit in the dark for a long time, and isaac eventually crawls into aaron’s lap. his dad tells him everything that happened in his day at work, and rounded it all off with “it was wrong of me to get upset with you, little man. it wasn’t your fault, and i love you more than anything, all the time, no matter what. i’m so sorry, and i hope you can forgive me.”

“i can.” 

mom walks in later to find them asleep, aaron propped against the headboard with his ankles crossed, isaac sprawled across his chest. 

2.

when the girls are older, maybe 14 or 15, he puts his foot down about an out-of-town concert with a friend and their older brother. the concert is a few days away, and sophia mentions it over dinner. 

without really meaning to, he goes into full drill sergeant mode and gets a little too specific about all the things that could go wrong. it was very clear in the moment that the topic was not up for discussion, that he was not under any circumstances going to allow the girls to go to a concert a couple hours away with only a nineteen year-old college sophomore as a supervisor. 

it turns into one of those “i hate you you never let me do anything” teenager moments. sophia gets up and shuts herself in the garage with the treadmill and runs until she’s tired, showering and going straight into her room without a word or glance in his direction. caroline really quietly sets her napkin on the table, and leaves out the back door, headed for the porch swing that faces the back of the property. she, too, goes to bed without saying goodnight. 

mom doesn’t say anything in the moment, and they finish dinner with the boys (isaac, now 16 or 17, and elliot, now 10 or 11) and get them ready to wind down for the night. when they settle into bed, he starts to doubt himself. 

“i was too hard on them, wasnt i?” 

before mom can answer, aaron gets a call from jack (now 26 or 27) on his cell. he tells him that sophia tattled to him about the concert, and he didnt mention this to them, but he’d be okay taking the day off work to take them and their friends, and even find a spot to stay overnight so they aren’t out driving late.

mom eavesdrops. aaron tells jack to hold on a second, and mutes him. mom says that would be a good compromise and reminds him that they aren’t little anymore, and they can mostly fend for themselves (thanks to a few weeks’ worth of self-defense with derek over the summer). “i know it’s hard, honey. i can’t say i’m wild about it either, but if jack goes, i’d feel a lot better about that than the alternatives.”

he sighs, kisses her, and tells jack that would be alright. “i’ll go down the hall and tell them.”

“have some sucking up to do, old man?”

aaron just rolls his eyes and hangs up before walking down the hall. he knocks on the door, and two flat “what”s come from the other side of the door. he opens it, and finds caroline and sophia facing each other from their beds on either side of the room. he could tell they were talking shit, the set of their mouths giving them away. 

they’re looking at him like he’s goddamn war criminal. he pulls caro’s desk chair and sits backward on it in between the ends of their beds. “your brother has very graciously offered to take friday off of work to take you and your friends to the concert and spend the night in norfolk with you.” 

“so, you’re letting us go?” 

he tries not to let the biting resentment in sophia’s tone get to him. “i am. i’m sorry for coming down hard on you at dinner. it was wrong of me, and i understand that it could feel like i don’t trust your judgement. i do.” he looks at them each in turn. “it just freaks me out a little that you’re getting older a lot faster than i thought you would.” 

caro’s lip wobbles, and she throws her covers back and crosses to him, giving him a hug. “thank you. we’ll be good, i promise.” 

“i know, my little love.” 

it takes him a little while to get back into sophia’s good graces, but when he picks them up from jack’s apartment at the end of the weekend, she can’t stop talking about how much fun she had. he’s pretty sure he’s forgiven. 

3. 

its when he first starts dating mom that jack starts to act out. he’s usually a really well-tempered kid, but sometimes he’d snap at her or withdraw and it made her feel awful. there were definitely a couple of nights were he’d snap at her over something small and she would retreat to the back bedroom to take a minute. it wore on aaron to tell her that she wasn’t an imposition, that she wasn’t replacing haley, that she isn’t his second choice or ‘the backup’

they both have this moment of total defeat - they’ve known each other for so long, and jack has known her most of his life, but the change in relationship status really brought up a lot of stuff for the kiddo. 

mom comes around faster, learning to understand that jack is just adjusting and having trouble with the idea that there’s a semi-permanent female figure in his life, and that his dad’s attention is divided. thus, when aaron inevitably breaks down about it, she’s there. 

“i feel selfish. maybe i shouldn’t have -”

“aaron. we are doing everything we can to make this an easy adjustment for him, but it’s difficult.”

“but nothing’s changed! you’ve been here for five years.” 

“love, everything’s changed, and we’ve only been dating for a couple of months. that’s a lot for someone who’s barely seven. you’re not selfish, you’re not a bad parent. you haven’t made a bad judgement call. he’s just really young and is having trouble handling these very big changes in his home landscape.” 

so aaron finds a therapist for jack to see twice a week, figuring it was a good idea anyway with all the trauma he may or may not remember. it’s still sucky for a while, but as jack starts implementing the coping mechanisms he learns and mom takes on a role closer to a peer or friend than a parent, things get a lot easier. 

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst  @lcvischmitt 

[peppusae]

How to say 'I love you' without saying 'I love you' | Chae Hyungwon pt 1

part: 1 of 3

other parts:  pt 1 || pt 2 || pt 3

pairing: chae hyungwon x reader

genre: fluff, little slow-burn and angst, smut

word count: 5.6k words

note: i had a dream about this plot so i must write this because after this dream hyungwon became my bias wrecker and i cry about him every day since pls send help gbye

ugh i love him so much :(((

>

How to say 'I love you' without saying 'I love you'

What’s every kpop fan’s goal in life?

To meet their idols, attend a concert, and attend a fan sign, right?

Some others... They aim higher than that.

And you’re one of those people.

In fact, you love k-pop so much that you found your career took a whooping turn and you ended up majoring in language, for the very simple fact that you could apply to join an entertainment company and be a staff/writer, the latter which makes you feel the proudest of yourself.

But life….

Life can be super mean sometimes. And you learn this the hard way, when you get rejected by SM entertainment - your first and actually the only choice because you are a major Shinee fan and life is just NOT fair at all!

One way or the another, after multiple applying, you finally get a good job in another company - Starship Entertainment.

Now, Starship was definitely not one amongst your top 5 agencies. But you always try not to let that affect your work - and over time, you come to love your job.

Especially when you get assigned as Monsta X’s writer and interpreter.

You find the members of the group very very appealing, all of them having their own charms.

Hyunwoo, who goes by the name Shownu and has an appetite that makes everyone giggle; He is such a soft-hearted soul and you really look up to him because he is always kind enough to give you a hand if he finds you doing something like lugging some boxes around, and would give the prettiest eye smiles when he gets a compliment.

Hoseok, who goes by the name Wonho and is probably the person you would sacrifice everything for; because of the heartwarming smile he has to offer, the way he continuously asks you to go through the comments he received on his vlives, and would politely request you to review what fans are saying about him on his posts.

Kihyun, who is very much Korean down to the bone with his extremely polite mannerisms and the way he always makes sure the staff - you included - are always eating as well; even if it’s a show about them. And also, the way he had once asked if he was your bias, and looked shocked to hear he wasn’t - and then continued to do things to get your attention and ask “Am I your bias now?” in the middle, like an idiot.

Jooheon, who also occasionally comes to you and asks for mini English lessons, and then gets bored after learning two or three new words - and then instead likes to chat about random things like the cats he owns, and your line of cacti which he, for some reason, is obsessed with, and your chats with Jooheon usually end with a compliment battle, and he always made you feel proud because he always says that chatting about normal things like that always inspires him a lot too.

Changkyun, who you consider as your bias wrecker because he keeps his own cool, stays in his own bubble and get things done, and doesn’t brag; instead, he’s very gentle, always the first person to notice if you’re sitting out in the lounge by yourself racking your brains for new content, and uses you as a guinea pig for testing out his lame new puns or pickup lines.

And then… Hyungwon, who doesn’t talk a lot when he’s with the rest of the group, but you found to be startlingly talkative when he’s doing a solo vlive or with only a few members like either Shownu or Wonho. In fact, you remember being wide-eyed when he continuously chatted with his fans on a vlive for a whooping 2 hours, and you can’t forget the precious and warm smile he had on his face when you said you liked seeing him so lively and talkative.

“I have a lot of things up my sleeve which you probably don’t know that much about, [Name]-ah.” He had said that time, and sometimes, you can see the way his eyes would filter through the staff during shows and land on yours, and smile at you.

And finally, Minhyuk, who was your absolute favourite out of the entire group, your bias because he gets along so well with everyone, always making everyone - including the staff - laugh, and would not hesitate to call anyone out if they’re doing something they shouldn’t. It makes you giggle, the way he would approach you in the middle of a variety show shooting they’re doing and ask if you were the writer of the show and how you had the audacity to make them walk around like lunatics. He acts like a crackhead like that, but you’ve grown to be so attached to him when you realized that, beyond his bright personality, he also is an insanely sweet person; You found this out when you had mentioned applying to SM entertainment because Shinee was your favorite group ever, and Minhyuk -even if he asked how dare you talk about other men in his presence - met up with Shinee while hosting a show and got the members to sign, and even got Kibum, your Shinee bias, to sign you a message inside their recent album.

Undoubtedly, Minhyuk was your favorite, for a good reason.

But still, to be put frankly, Hyungwon was the member that has your heart, for the simple reason that he was so unpredictable and has his own sense of humour and personality.

Since you got assigned to work with Monsta X, your life has been a messy tangle of fun, a normal day being you having a chat with Hyungwon and then getting interrupted by Minhyuk who would have zero filters and ask “Are you two dating?”, which causes the two of you to flush red for no reason, while Kihyun would overhear this and say “Huh?! You’re picking him to date but you don’t think of me as bias material?”.

The cycle would be endless, with Wonho laughing while watching the entire scene unfold, while Jooheon would join in with Minhyuk while Shownu would butt in and say “Minhyuk-ah, we have to go back to practise now tho,” and Changkyun sticking his head out from his dorm room and saying he still has 5 more minutes to finish the session of his favorite game.

You’ve grown to love this cycle and it doesn’t feel like a job, doing something you love with good people to work with, and life has been even easier after you got a dorm room within the building.

So, even if you had a roommate - and she’s nice, just not too close - things at Starship has been working out well for you.

Your daily chaos started simmering down a little once the pandemic hit, and all of the staff got confined to their rooms for work.

Because some of the shows you’re writing the scripts for are getting approved easily, you feel lucky to be one of the few staff who is now allowed to go alongside the members when they’re out for shows.

The times when you’re working from your dorm room, you feel so tired - perhaps missing the chaos you were so used to for the past couple years.

One day, you get a kakao chat from Hyungwon, asking if he can come over to discuss something with you.

It’s early in the morning - 8:15 am, and you’re half awake but you let him in, trying your hardest not to yawn too much in front of the member you considered the most attractive from the bunch.

Your roommate, Dawon, was kind enough to clean up the room a little bit when you said Hyungwon was coming over - and you said it on purpose because you knew she called Hyungwon her type and admits to having a teensy crush on him even though she knows it won’t work out anyways.

Hyungwon is wearing a caramel sweater and grey baggy sweatpants, and it always warms your heart to see the boys dressed in comfy clothes because they have to spend so much time wearing clothes that probably look good but not feel as comfy.

“Hyungwonnie, come on in!” You greet him, and he reacts with a chuckle and he always does that ever since you started calling him by that nickname after the day he said you should use casual language with him.

Hyungwon gives a little nod to your roommate in acknowledgement, and waits until you draw the curtain separating the room, before he speaks.

“I have a magazine shooting next month, and these are the set of questions they’re gonna ask me.” He says, putting the big envelope he had in his clutches on the top of your desk after he takes his seat. “I need help coming up with answers.”

Hyungwon was usually one of the few members who always comes to use the opportunity; the artists are free to ask the writers for help with answers they’ll give for their interviews, and Hyungwon always makes full use of the opportunity, and Shownu and Wonho occasionally drop by too, as well.

You’re always happy to be asked for help, but today, you find yourself sweat-dropping at the thought. You were so sleepy, the only reason you’re not dozing off is because you had forced yourself not to sit down.

“Why?”

“What?”

“You’re usually always excited when I ask for something like this, so why today?”

Ouch. Sometimes, much like you can read the boy’s faces and know what’s going on, they can sometimes do the same for you, too.

“Well, you see....”

“Have you been getting enough sleep?”

Double ouch. You knew the boys - at least, most of them - were good observers, but you didn’t expect Hyungwon to catch on so easily.

“I actually do get enough sleep, but these days, I feel extra sleepy for an hour or so after I wake up.”

This makes Hyungwon chuckle, putting the papers back inside the envelope and turning back to you.

“Welcome to the life of every human being. You sound like you’ve been babied too much.” He has to say, and you watch the way he gets up from his seat and places the envelope inside one of your drawers.

“Let’s get some breakfast.”

“W-What?!”

This makes the male raise an eyebrow, glancing around the room as if he was unsure if it really was you who said that.

“You’re acting as if we have never gone out for a meal together.”

“Well…” You say, because you’ve actually gone with him a couple of times over the four years you’ve been assigned to them.

That was probably because the boys enjoyed ordering in mostly, and eating at their own free times.

Anyhow, it was only a few times, so it definitely did surprise you.

“Okay. Where do we go?”

“I’m in the mood for some eggs and sausages, do you have anything you want to eat?”

“Hey, we’re gonna split the bill okay!?” You hurry to race Hyungwon outside, who goes out in a very knowing way, one that was like a deja vu of the times when he’d butt in when you’re trying to innocently pay for your delivered lunch tray and he’d ask to tab it over to him.

Kihyun was right, he really was different from the way most Monbebe actually looked up at him.

At the restaurant, Hyungwon takes his mask off only after you two are seated at one of the sectioned booths and have ordered your food.

“The pandemic isn’t good, but this is the only thing that I enjoy about it.” He admits, eyes going over to the lack of people inside the place which would usually be filled to the brim with office workers trying to grab a quick breakfast.

“This pandemic has made me a sleepyhead like you.”

“Hey!”

You find yourself smiling so hard around Hyungwon because during breakfast and after you had forcibly paid for you two, on your way back when he offers to buy you coffee - and even remembers your usual order - and the next two hours he spent with you while you helped him write answers and edit what he wrote, it really does not feel like he’s a celebrity at all; but more so as a close friend who makes you feel warm in ways you’ve never felt before.

“Why?”

You snap out from your little trance and go back to typing your script on the laptop, when he interrupts you.

“Why are you smiling? What kind of madness of a show are you writing now?!”

“Hey! Don’t accuse me of writing madness when your Monbebe loves it so much!”

“Yah, that’s too much! Our Monbebe will love us anyway even if you show them us being normal!”

You giggle, because really. When has Monsta X ever been normal?

---

The next day, right after you wake up, you’re working on the itinerary for Monsta X’s upcoming vacation show - a little too late, you had to admit, and that too, when you’re feeling so desperately sleepy like you’ve been feeling lately every morning.

Dawon had gone out to grab breakfast with some of the other staff, and you’re munching on your melon bread, knowing well that the espresso shot you’ve had just a while ago won’t last you for more than 15 minutes.

And it doesn’t.

In fact, you’re actually snoring when your phone rings loudly, making you lift your sorry face up from your laptop keyboard and answering as soon as you pick up the phone.

“Yes, Manager-nim? I’ll send you the itinerary in fifteen minutes!” You say the impossible, because your task in barely done, and you had a feeling you’d fall back onto the laptop keyboard the second the manager hangs up the call.

The sound of familiar chuckling makes you raise an eyebrow and glance at your phone, horrified to see Hyungwon’s name on the display.

“I need it in ten minutes, not fifteen.” He says in a heavy voice, and it makes you huff in embarrassment, glad that he couldn’t see you.

“Very funny, Hyungwon. What did you need?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to wake you up.”

“I was up!”

This makes him laugh yet again, and you sigh, typing on the keyboard as you think about what good excuse you can say.

“If you were up, you wouldn’t have thought I was your manager.”

You let out a little groan, connecting your headphones to the phone so you could multitask while speaking to the male.

“Really, now, Hyungwonnie, what did you really want? Is there something you wanted to ask again?”

“No, I really just called to wake you up.”

“Well. Isn’t that sweet of you.” You say, sarcastically.

The mini banter and sarcastic comments continue for about ten minutes, by which you’d even finished up the itinerary.

So, even if he did laugh at your sleepyhead behaviour - as if he could talk - you made sure to thank him before you go out to take the printouts and finish off your task.

---

And then, that becomes a ritual.

Hyungwon calls you every day at 8 am, right when you’ve signed in for work and are about to head to get some coffee.

He makes small talk with you, talks about little episodes he’d had, and listens to your ideas.

After the first week, you don’t feel sleepy even if you don’t get the coffee; and you don’t even get sleepy after he hangs up.

Every day, it feels like he’s prepared something new, because he makes you laugh so hard that your sleep completely vanishes.

In fact, after a couple of days, he searches up English songs on Genie Music and sings, butchering up a lot of the lyrics on purpose - you know it’s on purpose because Hyungwon has a really good pronunciation when he tries.

One day, you’re butchering up the lyrics of a song along with Hyungwon while you’re writing talk segments for Monsta X’s comeback showcase. Your roommate has been giving you funny looks recently, especially after she asked who was calling you every day and you couldn’t lie and told her it was Hyungwon.

The sudden sound of your door flying wide open and a blonde Lee Minhyuk barrelling into your room makes you stop your singing.

“Oh. So it was you, huh.” He has to say, making himself comfortable on your beanbag chair, and drawing the cloth partition between your room when Dawon - your roommate - keeps staring.

Really, Minhyuk does not know what filters are supposed to be.

“What do you mean?” You ask, and from your headphone, Hyungwon hears his friend’s voice, so he dismisses the call after saying he’ll see you again later.

“So it was you Hyungwonie has been getting up every morning to sing his heart out, huh?”

You stare at him, baffled. “Well, he does sing some normal songs, but he mostly sings crack-”

“He usually never wakes up on his own even if he has schedules, and now he has an alarm to call you every day? What, are you guys dating or something?”

“Yah, Minhyuk, what are you saying!!” You hiss, horrified, because the cloth partition does little to block out sounds from the other side.

“I always tell people if they like someone, to stop being so obvious and just ask them out. It’s easy!!”

“It’s not easy and omg shut up!! He’s just calling me because he’s waking me up, he’s just being kind!”

“Hyungwon never wakes up for us, he’s never kind to us, then! And he’s always still sleepy even if he wakes you up, because he goes straight back to bed after he wakes you up!”

You sigh out loud in frustration, shaking your head. “Come on. What did you want, Minhyukkie?”

Minhyuk gives you a knowing smile before he shakes his head, handing you the binded notebook he had in his clutches.

“You’ll give me a read-over, right? I told you about the radio-show I’m gonna start hosting in a few weeks, right? The concept is clear, but I have some topics I want to talk about and I made some scripts about how I could continue the talk.”

“You got it. I’ll need some time, though, how does Thursday sound?”

“Perfect. Thanks!” He gives you a flying kiss that makes you laugh, and then he’s out as fast as he came barreling in.

---

You expected Hyungwon to stop the calling after the confining to your room rule gets lifted up and you’ve started to go to the office for work.

But he doesn’t, and he sounds as if he’s never been as prepared before as he is now.

Even when the comeback is near and he must be practising into the late hours of the night, he never misses a single day.

A few days before the comeback, you find him having lunch with Shownu, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him in a while - and you hadn’t seen his new hair till then too.

For the first time in the four years you’ve been assigned to work with Monsta X, you take a good look at Hyungwon.

A really, really good look.

At first, he hadn’t noticed you, and while you’re refilling your water bottle with chilled water, you notice the way he’s smiling a little while he listens to what Shownu is saying. The way he uses his hand to brush the fringe of his hair he’s dyed blonde is attractive for the first time - and you’d always thought he was a really, really handsome young man… But this is the first time he looks so attractive that you feel like you’re in a daze, staring at him until chilled water fills up your bottle and pours on your fingers, finally catching your attention.

What gives?

The little yelp you let out makes both Shownu and Hyungwon glance over at you - noticing you for the first time. Hyungwon’s eyes go wide, the top of his palm going up to cover his mouth.

“Ah, [Name]-ah. How are you?” Shownu calls over to you, ever so naturally, and you greet him with a smile when it looks like he’s motioning for you to come over.

“I haven’t seen you in a while. Are you doing well?”

“I’m doing good, Hyunwoo-oppa. You guys must be working super hard for the comeback, right?” You say, glancing at Hyungwon, and for the first time ever, you think he’s actually… blushing ?!

It makes you flustered, thinking about what Minhyuk had talked to you about, while he accused you two of dating. Really, Minhyuk had no filters, it never fails to drive you insane sometimes.

“Yeah! You can expect a lot, please do support us a lot!”

You turn to look at Shownu, beaming at his friendly and charming smile before you excuse yourself and head back before you felt your head would explode.

Now, what the heck was that all about!?

Whatever it was, you were definitely going to blame Minhyuk for this!

---

It absolutely surprises you when Hyungwon doesn’t fail to call you, even the following morning.

You guess you had just imagined it in your head yesterday when Hyungwon looked flustered to see you.

Stupid Minhyuk! It was all in your head after all.

“Now that today’s dumb song segment is over,” Hyungwon says, after he sings a butchered up version of Pretty Please, “I’m gonna sing a song from our album!”

“Oh? Will that be okay?”

“Well, you’ll hear the album preview later today, so, why not?” He has to say. “It’s one of my favorites from the album.”

And then, he sings up to the second chorus of Beautiful Night - a song you fall in love with instantly, because the lyrics are so beautiful and Hyungwon sings as if he’s doing so with his whole soul. It almost makes your eyes teary, and you can barely tell him that you love it, before you have to excuse yourself with a little lie.

Since when did Hyungwon’s voice sound this emotional? It’s been over four years, but his voice has always been the same, beautiful voice as before. You open up Genie music, playing some of the older albums, listening to Hyungwon’s voice in the songs, and you feel like you’ve missed out this side of Hyungwon completely, this madly romantic side of him that sounds so sincere that it makes your heart race.

What is going on, seriously…

---

As the days pass by, the little tingle in your heart whenever you see or hear Hyungwon keeps on getting more and more painful.

In fact, by the end of Monsta X’s three-week promotions for Fantasia X, hearing Hyungwon singing songs for you become almost unbearably sad.

Despite having to wake up earlier, or even having to excuse himself in the middle of getting his hair and makeup done, he makes sure to call you - even if you’re sitting and listening to him when he’s in the same room as you are in.

You realize you can’t hold out your expressions if it’s in front of him, so you make sure to get up and go away somewhere when Hyungwon’s call arrives every day at 8 am on the dot.

It’s a warm Saturday morning, and you’re on your bed, your earpods on and listening to Fantasia X on Genie when Hyungwon’s call of the day arrives.

Today, it’s different.

Usually, he sings a trot song, or a really ugly version of an English song with the hopes of making you laugh so much that your sleep completely vanishes.

But today, he doesn’t say anything and immediately starts to sing soulfully; today, he sings Newton, one of your absolute favorite songs by the group, and…

The way he sings it is so, so sad .

Something inside your heart feels like it is burning, and unknowingly, your eyes brim with tears, because…

All the things Minhyuk had told you, all the things you’ve been thinking about Hyungwon lately, all the little glances he sends your way and then looks away when he sees you’re watching…

You feel your emotions going haywire, and your wishful thinking makes you start crying and you pray to god that Hyungwon, who’s singing the chorus so beautiful and sincerely does not notice.

It’s almost unbearable, and you take off your earpods and have him on speaker, thankful that he doesn’t notice you’ve reached for tissues to wipe your tears.

Since when did I start feeling this way about him?

How can I think this way about one of the members I work for?

Why does Hyungwon sing as if he’s singing just for me, and only me?

Why does it feel like we are never able to meet eyes now?

You have so many questions and no answers, and your hands are shaking as you try to press record on your phone because he sounds so, so beautiful and your crying is not helping you in focusing on his sincere singing.

It is at this moment that the door to your room flies open, and your roommate, Dawon enter the room, then freezes when she sees you crying.

“What’s going on?!”

You’re only able to hand over the phone to her, and mumble a little “Please record it for me” through your sobs.

Dawon looks very confused, raising an eyebrow when she looks at the receiver and sees that it is Hyungwon, on the call.

At that moment, Hyungwon wraps up his singing, clearing his throat a little and speaks for the first time today.

“[Name]-ah.”

You find yourself sniffling, glancing at Dawon who looks visibly upset now… and you can’t even blame her…

“[Name]-ah.” He calls your name again, and this is one of the things that makes you sad in regards to Hyungwon, because… He is a member of Monsta X, one of the manlier groups in the industry for sure, but… He’s so gentle and sweet, a kind-hearted soul, and he does not lack in anything, as he has proudly claimed so.

Even the way he calls your name out is so gentle that it makes more tears stream down your face, and you’re almost scared at how to answer whatever Hyungwon would ask from you.

“[Name]-ah. I have something I have to tell you, in person.”

Your eyes meet with Dawon, who now looks wide-eyed, and you were sure you would probably look the same.

“I… I have to tell you this in person, so, if you… If you’re willing, would you like to… go for dinner with me today?”

More tears stream down your face, and now you know you can never look Dawon in the eyes either so you bury your face on one of your pillows, heart aching too much to do anything else.

“Hyungwon-ssi.”

Dawon speaks into the speakerphone, and it makes you glance at her, wondering what she was going to say.

Hyungwon replies with a loud ‘Huh?’ in confusion.

“Hyungwon-ssi, I’m sorry, but [Name] is outside and she left her phone here.”

Dawon looks at you, lips pressed into a thin line. You feel so uneasy, and it felt like Hyungwon felt the same, because he starts to stammer.

“Wh-Wha? What?! If [Name] wasn’t the one who answered, then wh- Whaaaaa!” You hear a loud whine before the call gets disconnected with a quick mumble of “Sorry!”.

Dawon hurls the phone at your bed, and leaves the room without a word, and it pains your heart so much that you feel like you’ll die.

A text message pops up on your phone a little while later and seeing the text makes you feel a little dizzy, even.

‘If you’re freely going to allow other people to roam through your phone even, I don’t think I have any other choice but to come to see you right away.’

What?

Wait, does he mean-

You hurry to grab your phone and iPad, wiping your face as best as you could and going out of your room. You find Minhyuk and Kihyun using the Xbox in the lounge, so you quietly take a seat near them, greeting them and opening up your iPad without another word.

“[Name]-ah, why do you look so weird?”

“Yah, Minhyuk, how can you say something so rude?!”

You shake your head and give a weak smile at the two, opening up your notepad and leaning against the couch.

A moment passes by, and Minhyuk moves closer to you on the couch, so close that you actually move a little back as well.

“What?”

“I finished my game with Kihyunnie. So. Why? Why do you look so sad? Did Hyungwonie hurt you?”

Now, you’ve been doing a good job of not crying since you got out of the room, but seeing Minhyuk’s worried face and then remembering Hyungwon’s words - along with Minhyuk hitting a bullseye right away… All of that combine together and it makes you start to cry again.

“Wha? Hey?!” Minhyuk looks very startled, and he usually never looks surprised like he doesn’t know what to do, but today he looks like he’s at a dead end, and you allow him to grab your hand and tell Kihyun he’ll be right back, before he hurries to drag you over to the other end of the lounge near the vending machines.

“Yah, what is going on with you lately? Hyungwon really said something mean to you, didn’t he? Sheesh. Acting like he’s in love with you and then making you cry like this? I didn’t expect him out of everyone to behave this way.”

The more Minhyuk spoke, the worse you felt, and you’re barely able to ask him if he could be kind enough to leave you alone for a second when you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

“[Name]-ah…. Minhyuk-ah?!”

You and Minhyuk glance up to see Hyungwon approaching you, and you hurry to take your hand away from Minhyuk’s clutch.

Really, Hyungwon couldn’t have caught a worse timing.

Minhyuk shoots you a sad look, then gets up from his seat, goes to say something to Kihyun, then the two of them leave while Kihyun glances at you with a worried look on his face. You can’t get yourself to look at Hyungwon, so you’re looking at your hands, fingers fumbling while Hyungwon stands in his spot in front of you, not saying a single word.

More tears fall down your face when you remember Minhyuk’s words - and how wrong was he to assume the worst from the sweetest person you know, and it pains your heart because you knew if you looked in his eyes, you wouldn’t be able to stop crying.

“Why?”

Hyungwon says a single word, and honestly, that was the only thing you didn’t have an answer for.

Why were you crying?

You didn’t know.

Why can’t you look at Hyungwon?

You had no clue.

Why did Minhyuk know right away?

That too, you didn’t know at all.

Why can’t you answer him?

You had no reason.

So instead, you find tears streaming down your face, and you wish you could leave, but you felt like you owed Hyungwon at least this much, to hear what he had to say even if you felt like something was cutting through your heart.

“Stand up.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard him ask you to do something in that voice, an angry, impatient voice you’ve never imagined you’d ever be on the receiving end for.

“[Name]-ah.”

You hum in response, eyes on the ground. Hyungwon lets out an exhale and you can feel your hands trembling because it’s while you’re looking at his shoes with an aching heart, that you realize something you’ve been wishing so hard was not true.

You were in love with Chae Hyungwon.

Out of completely nowhere, so naturally.... You were so madly in love with Chae Hyungwon; so much that looking at him now would be too much to take, now.

“You heard everything I said, didn’t you?”

Now, that’s something you didn’t expect to hear from him. He had sounded so worried and embarrassed on the phone so you didn’t think he would have any suspicious, but here he was, showing you that he certainly did.

It makes you look up at his face for the first time today, and it pains your heart.

It paints your heart, because he’s wearing clothes with a lot of creases - something he’s been wearing to sleep, and he has on a beanie that covers most of his messy-looking hair, and he’s looking at you with puffy eyes and a frown that hurts so much to look at.

You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore so you shake your head in response. Hyungwon looks visibly disappointed, like he knew right away that you were lying. You think he has something more he wants to say, because his lips part a little… And then, he lets out a sigh and shakes his head as well.

“If you are this burdened by how I feel, then…” Hyungwon’s voice trails off, taking a step back and then turning around. You watch the way he walks out of the lounge without a word, and if you felt like you’d never been more hurt before, you were completely wrong, because nothing pained your heart more than watching the male leave like that, as if he had so much to say and couldn’t…. Just like how you felt while you sink back on the couch and cry your heart out.

And from that day onwards, Hyungwon doesn’t call you again.

-----

[sunnygang]

analysing the sep 24 wigfrid animated short (don’t starve)

I am rewatching some Don’t Starve animations and catching up on some i hadn’t seen yet. I am watching the Wigfrid animation tonight for the first time (the sep 24 one). I am a few months late, whoops!

I will be putting this analysis under a cut, since I will be pairing a lot of screen caps from the short itself! Also this turned out WAY longer than I originally intended it to. There’s a tw for incest mention in one paragraph (about a stage play that is relevant, NOT about Wigfrid) and I put the warning surrounded in asterisks and bolded before the paragraph referenced!

The short opens with a shot from what is safe to assume is her front hallway. Wigfrid is an actress and she appears to live alone in a nice home.

The walls are of course covered in her various photographs and stage play memoriam. Over the mantle on the left the framed poster reads  Die Walküre (The Valkyrie). Keep this in mind as this is Wigfrid’s best role. Also peep that nice chaise lounge she’s sitting on!

Some national culture, we get to see the newspaper she is reading. This paper is The Kronicle. The real life Chronicle newspaper, upon searching it, returned a good number of results. I am going to say that this particular article is the Ohio Chronicle (founded by the Lorain Printing and Publishing Co which was founded in 1829, the paper itself may or may not have been founded that same year), and I will get into why later.

The front page features the Tragedy in San Francisco. The tragedy of Maxwell and Charlie! The article header specifically reading “Tragedy in San Francisco! Many Still Missing After Devastating Earthquake!” This is around the same date, it has to be within a matter of days for this short to take place from the date of the Charlie and Maxwell disappearance in San Francisco. We don’t get to see Wigfrid reading this article, however. This is merely set there for the viewer’s sake. This is helping form our timeline of when these events all occurred. Many still missing. That means the search continues. This article could have been published a few days after the mentioned earthquake or a week even. Still, it gives us somewhat of a timeline to reference. The earthquake and the events of this Wigfrid short happened in relatively short time from one another.

This newspaper article header reads “Is It Curtains for This Prima Donna? Former Rising Star Seems Unable to Recapture The Magic of Her Precious Role”

Wigfrid isn’t shown reading the front article because she is focused on the news centered around herself. She’s called a prima donna here in this headline. Being called a Prima Donna can mean a number of things. It can mean a principle female singer in an opera or concert organization OR someone who is vain/undisciplined and finds it difficult to work as a team. She doesn’t have any quotes in DST that would indicate Wigfrid doesn’t work well with others. She mostly greets the other players warmly and hopes for good blessings from Yggdrasil, etc.

I think the journalists who wrote the article were looking to have this kind of double idea happening. The term Prima Donna comes directly from Italian for the types of female leads to the definitive aspect of the term. However around the same time (19th cent) it came to mean the second definition as well. Those writing the article likely wrote it with both aspects in mind. This gives Wigfrid her personal reason for wanting to ask Maxwell for help in some way. This is her drive. She is obviously a talented lead opera lady given the decorations and extravagant nature of her home. But this article says she is unable to recapture the magic of her previous role. The role in question looks to be very different from the Wigfrid Valkyrie we know. Her best role may be her Valkyrie role and maybe when she’s trying to branch into something else it isn’t working. And the critics and journalists think it isn’t good for her. She was a powerful Valkyrie, but not whatever this role happened to be.

We get to see her finishing reading the article (or maybe this short interrupts her just barely skimming it) and angrily crumple and toss the paper to the floor. She turns her nose up at it and dramatically walks to a bookshelf in the room and pulls out this record:

Die Walküre. This is the recorded orchestral arrangement for the stage play Die Walküre. In the bottom right of the record sleeve is the names of who I believe to be the composers for the recorded version of the orchestral arrangement. Vincenzo De Vera and Emmental Halle. Wigfrid’’s. Best. Role. The role with such “magic” that she has been since “unable to recapture.”

**incest mention in this next paragraph in the contexts of norse mythology and the real life stage play of The Valkyrie, not Wigfrid herself**

Interestingly enough, Die Walküre is a very real stage play. It is based on Norse Mythology about two twins who are separated in childhood and then eventually meet and fall in love (yikes!). This union angers the gods and they demand Siegmund die. Sieglinde and their unborn child are saved by the defiant actions of Wotan’s daughter, The Valkyrie. Valkyrie Brunnehilde faces the god’s retribution as a result of her actions.

More Valkyrie content hidden away in her shelves. She adored her role as The Valkyrie. Her house is, as we have seen, filled with memoriam from that stage play.

She plays the record and walks over to her wall and looks at her poster of herself as the Valkyrie. The newspaper clipping on the left reads “Audiences Left Spellbound by Soprano’s Powerful Performance.” Wigfrid is a GREAT performer and she is a soprano! She even has a little statue/sculpture of herself as The Valkyrie.

Here’s where I am going to go a little more into the Prima Donna bit. Wigfrid was the lead female for Die Walküre so she is a Prima Donna in that sense. however, she is also vain. She has surrounded herself with HERSELF. All over the walls in her home. Posters and pictures and photographs and SCULPTURES? You Prima Donna girl you, Wigfrid!

Her ceiling is even intricately decorated with scenes from Die Walküre.

And then we get here. We enter Wigfrid’s fantasy about performing as The Valkyrie who has to face a challenge. This challenge being a dragon that forms from this stack of newspaper pages. More entertainment pages that discuss Wigfrid’s stardom reaching an end.

Wigfrid’s real name is scratched out. So we know for certain that Wigfrid is NOT her real name. We can still call her real name whatever we please until we get more solid evidence surrounding her name. Wigfrid is probably Die Valküre’s name in the stage play that Wigfrid acted in. In The Constant it’s safe to assume that the character she takes on in the world happens to be this character, Wigfrid. At this point it raises some question as to whether or not Wigfrid is treating The Constant like a stage. Where she gets to really perform the role of The Valkyrie.

Back to the newspaper taking the form of a dragon, though. The papers are her enemy. The journalists writing about her in such awful ways literally conjure up as her enemy, a dragon, to vanquish. This reveals how she feels about the way others speak about her. Especially when they are critiquing her so harshly with claiming she is a fading star unable to capture her magic.

Wigfrid is thrust into the air by the dragon and she seems lost for a moment before she regains her composure and strikes down the dragon. These are the feelings she is expressing through her singing accompaniment with the arrangement playing on her record player. And Maxwell notices this.

Maxwell appears before Wigfrid through the newspaper. This intrigues me because we know that Them (the Shadow Creatures of the Constant) are capable of reaching into the real world from pages. Thinking back to Maxwell’s Codex Umbra where he first discovered Them and became Maxwell instead of William. Maxwell (or probably rather, They) reaches through these pages to communicate with Wigfrid and have her make a deal. The deal to regain her former glory.

Whisked away with this Shadow Maxwell form by the Shadows from the pages. And with that Wigfrid joins the missing group, taken to The Constant.

And then theres these shots in succession:

All that mail piled up. How long has it been since Wigfrid has disappeared. I think we can assume that some of the mail in her box might be fan mail. SHe has packages on her front step (in front of double doors for her entrance wowie!). I spy at least three packages there piled up with all the assorted mail she otherwise has accumulated while missing. I also spy at least four newspapers. It’s hard to say whether these newspapers are Morning Dailies, Afternoon Dailies, or Weeklies. And then we get the final, fifth newspaper copy tossed on top of the stack that labels Wigfrid as someone who is also now missing. This is an important newspaper because this paper is a DAILY newspaper.

The Kourier paper is likely a mirror to the IRL newspaper in Findlay, Ohio. This paper puts out a copy DAILY. I am going to assume that the first newspaper we see Wigfrid read is a weekly newspaper. It covers more national events such as the San Francisco tragedy. This final newspaper is a daily newspaper. This helps the timeline. Wigfrid has likely been missing for only five days at this point. At most it could have been a week, pushing it to of course seven days. Maybe one of the other papers in the could be another Kronicle copy, which I am deeming the weekly style paper. In my hunt for information about the IRL version of this paper in our real Ohio, I struggled to find specifics online whether this paper published weekly or daily. I do know for certain that tthe IRL Courier is put into circulation daily.

OKAY! Next I want to discuss the colors used in this short. Ignoring the fully colored bit in the center while Wigfrid fantasizes about performing for a moment.

In the beginning of the short we have warm colors. These colors can both reflect Wigfrid’s mood and also the time of day. Wigfrid is angry about the way she is being talked about in the newspaper articles. She is silhouetted by orange-red. It could also be the evening. Adding a little to what I stated just a bove about the newspapers, I think The Kronicle is a paper that is delivered in the afternoon. I personally deem this accurate because in this scene Wigfrid of course is just now reading this article (or rather just barely skimming it over for the first time). Judging by her reaction which I’ve detailed above. She isn’t reading it over again and having an already bummed reaction, One of her eyebrows is raised while she looks over the article before throwing it down. Thus, it was her first moment seeing the article along with us.

We see her anger melting into a kind of sadness, or forlorn feelings even when she first puts on her record. She is still angry of course, but she’s feeling a lot of emotions, as we do, at this point in time.

At the end of the short we have cold colors. At this point, Wigfrid has gone through her fantasy of performing The Valkyrie. She is feeling solemn about it all now though. What if the papers are true? What if I am losing my magic for my roles? I think it’s also into the night or even possibly into the morning. It’s either the shine of the moon coming in from the windows, or early morning blue hours peeking in. I don’t want to say that she spent the whole night fantasizing and performing for herself (The Valkyrie is not an 8 hour performance). BUT. When we get to see the scene where the last newspaper is delivered to her doorstep, it is again in the blue lighting. The Kourier newspaper delivered onto her stack of mail. The Kourier is a morning delivery vs The Kronicle being an afternoon delivery.

ALSO. Remember my post about Winona? WELL she was ALSO located in Ohio pre being dragged into The Constant. So far we have two characters safely concretely placed IN Ohio at the time of their disappearance. Obviously, The Shadow Creatures do not discriminate since Wes was likely trapped way back during the train derailment with William, and of course Charlie and Maxwell/William himself were taken from San Francisco.

Okay. That’s all I have time for this time around of over analyzing don’t starve content. I am glad I got into the imagery and symbolism this time around. I also went WAY in depth in this one. I plan on going in way depth on the other animated character shorts, so stay tuned!

[calpalirwin]

Papa’s Job

Summary: Mason gets introduced to Ashton’s line of work.

A/N: Smushed a few ideas together. Also this piece delves deeper into Mason’s special needs diagnosis/lack thereof. And while I’ve done a fair amount of research both over the years for various reasons, and while writing this, I am by no means an expert, and my research is no substitute for personal experience. So please, feel free to offer constructive and KIND feedback in ways I can better write Mason. Happy reading!

Word Count: ~2k

And away, and away we go!

__

It seemed to Vanessa like wherever she turned, Mason was underfoot. “Fuckin’ hell!” she swore as she turned and almost tripped over the little boy.

Mason’s bottom lip trembled as he clapped his hands over his ears at her outburst.

She sighed and crouched down in front of the almost three year old, keeping a careful hold on Bailey who had been particularly fussy since her first round of shots the day before. “Sweet boy, you’re too close. I have the baby, we have to be careful.”

“Baie,” he nodded, reaching for his sister.

“You wanna hold her?”

Another nod.

“Okay, sweet boy. Let’s go sit, and you can hold Bai.”

Mason sprinted to the living room, flinging himself onto the couch. He grabbed the boppy and put it on his lap. “Momma. Baie.”

“Yes, Mase.” Vanessa said a silent prayer that Bailey wouldn’t kick up a fuss about not being in her arms as she placed the two month old on the boppy.

Bailey twisted her mouth to start crying, but Mason was quick to place his hand by her, her little fingers grasping around his slightly bigger index finger. “Baie, Baie, Baie,” he sang softly to her as she settled down.

“Bailey, Bailey, Bailey,” Vanessa sang with him, sitting down next to her son.

Mason continued to sing nonsense sounds at his sister, who slowly drifted off to sleep. Once Vanessa was sure she could move Bailey from Mason and upstairs to her crib to continue sleeping, she reached for her daughter. Mason whined low in his throat, placing his hands gently over Bailey. “Momma,” he warned in a low whisper.

“I know. I’m gonna go put her in her bed, sweet boy,” she answered back, her voice just as low.

Mason’s whine got more pronounced.

Vanessa pressed a finger to her lips. “I know you love her and want to hold her. You’re a great big brother, Mase. But sissy went night-night. You can hold her when she wakes up, okay?”

He pouted, but moved his hands away so Vanessa could take the sleeping infant. But clearly he wasn’t too thrilled at his sister being taken away because as soon as Bailey was in Vanessa’s arms, he chucked the boppy to the floor. “Mason Nicholas!” Vanessa hissed through her teeth as the toddler took off.

She held back the sigh, focusing on getting Bailey into her crib without more fuss.

Mason, in his quest to hide so he could continue to pout in peace, ended up at the top of the staircase leading to the basement. “Hey, Mase,” Ashton smiled when the little boy came stumbling down. He gripped the cymbal of his drum set between his index finger and thumb to silence it, setting his drumsticks aside. “Where’s Momma and Bailey?”

Mason jutted out his lower lip and pointed up the stairs.

“Aw, did Momma put Bailey down for a nap?”

Mason nodded. “Baie, Papa,” he whimpered.

“Aw,” Ashton chuckled, patting his lap. “Wanna come sit with me?”

He wiped at his face, walking over to Ashton and crawling into his lap. “Baie, Papa,” he repeated in a hiccuped sob.

Ashton wrapped the boy into him. “I know you’re sad. But Bailey needs to sleep. When she’s awake you can hold her some more.”

“Momma,” Mason mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m sure Momma did tell you the same thing. But it’s okay. You can still be sad about it.”

Mason let out a shuddery breath of acceptance before pushing at Ashton’s chest. Ashton opened his arms, expecting the boy to climb down from his lap. But to his surprise, Mason reached forward to tap his hands against the various drums, liking the sounds he produced. “Papa!” he beamed.

Ashton lit up like a Christmas tree. “Yeah? You wanna play the drums with me?” Ashton grabbed the drumsticks. “Look, bud,” he said, striking at the drums.

Mason laughed with glee at the sound, clutching on to Ashton’s wrists.

“Here, you try,” Ashton said, handing Mason one of the drumsticks.

Mason looked at it in uncertainty and back at Ashton.

“Like this,” Ashton demonstrated again.

Mason copied what Ashton had done as best he could.

“There ya go! Just like that!” Ashton encouraged, shifting Mason so that the boy was on one his knees, freeing up his other leg to kick up a steady beat against the bass drum.

“Mason?!” Vanessa’s frantic voice called down the stairs. “Ash, is he down there with you?”

“Yeah, we’re down here, baby.”

She came flying down the staircase, halting at the bottom, eyes wild as they landed on Mason sitting happily on Ashton’s lap playing with the drum kit. “You scared the crap out of me!”

Ashton’s own eyes went wide. “Me? What did I do?”

“Not you, him!” She pointed a finger at Mason. “He got mad that I put Bailey down so he took off to hide. I thought he went to hide in his room. Fuckin’ damn near tore the house apart looking for him.”

“Whoa,” Ashton eased, standing up and adjusting Mason on his hip. “Take a minute. He’s been with me. He’s fine.”

“Yeah, I can see that… Here, I’ll take him back upstairs.”

Ashton waved her off as Mason squirmed in his hold to reach for the drums. “Nah, I got him, it’s fine. We’re having fun, aren’t we, bud?”

Mason smacked on the cymbal with his stick, giggling at the sound.

Vanessa’s heart melted. “Alright. But, you, mister Mason,” she said, wagging a finger at the boy. “We do not throw things when we are upset.”

“Uh-oh,” Ashton tsked, looking down at the boy in his arms. “Momma’s right, Mase. Throwing things isn’t nice. What do we say after we do something that’s not nice?”

“Momma!” Mason grinned, blowing Vanessa a sloppy toddler kiss.

She crossed over to her boys, kissing Mason’s cheek. “I forgive you, sweet boy. So what are you and Papa doing?”

“Teaching him how to play drums. He seems to really like it,” Ashton told her, sitting back down with Mason so they could go back to playing.

“Yeah, they say music’s really good for him.”

“Who’s they?”

“They. The doctors. The research. Something about the repetitive nature helping with his speech. I dunno, a lot of the scientific mumbo jumbo goes over my head.”

“Well, why don’t we get him in like a class, or something. They have those, right?”

“Yeah. And I’ve been meaning to. But every time I think to look into it, something else comes up. And without a formal diagnosis, it’s hard to find the right class for him.”

“He doesn’t have a formal diagnosis? What does that mean?”

“It means they, the doctors, just have a lot of really good guesses but not any real answers because he’s still so young. It’s currently a toss up between aphasia and autism.”

“Okay, I know what autism is more or less. But what the fuck is that other word?”

“Fancy talk for speech disorder.”

“That is so fuckin stupid… they can’t tell if he has a speech disorder? He’s damn near three years old and only says 4 fuckin words. I may not know a whole hell of a lot about child development or whatever the fuck, but pretty sure three olds are supposed to say a lot more than 4 bloody words.”

Vanessa stifled her laughter as Ashton vented his frustration. She wondered how many times you had raved the exact same thing to Finn, almost verbatim. “They can tell he has a speech disorder, love. They just can’t tell if it’s just it’s own thing, or if there’s more to it than that. Autism and speech disorders tend to overlap.”

“Yeah, and I bet you had to pay out your fuckin ears for all those doctor visits, and specialists, and shit. God, your healthcare here sucks.”

This time, she did laugh. “Yeah, but Finn and I both have pretty good insurance plans so it wasn’t too bad.”

“Yeah, and we can always just do this,” he told her, jerking his chin about the room. “Do our own music therapy here in the basement.”

“Now, that’s not a bad idea.”

“Man, I can’t wait to start touring again. I mean, I’m gonna miss you guys like fuckin’ crazy. But god, I can’t wait to show you guys around when we do our gig here. You’re gonna fuckin’ love it, baby.”

“It might just be me coming to see you, babe. I don’t know how Mase will handle all the noise, even with headphones.”

“Shit you’re right… well maybe you guys should come to a rehearsal then. Give the headphones a proper test.”

“A private concert all our own, huh? I think that sounds perfect.”

~~~

Mason gasped in excitement as they walked into the rehearsal space and he saw all the instruments. “Momma!”

“Yeah, I see, sweet boy. Are you excited to watch Papa and Uncles?”

“Momma,” he nodded.

“Go say hi to everybody, and then we’ll sit and listen, okay?”

Mason dashed off to press his forehead against Calum, Luke, and Michael who all murmured their own hellos to the boy while Ashton helped Vanessa get settled down with Bailey. “Ikey!” Mason screeched when he got to Michael, reaching up to touch the man’s fringe that poked out of his hat.

“Yes!” Michael whooped in victory. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” Michael said pointing at Calum, Luke, and then back at Calum with each “fuck you.”

Calum rolled his eyes while Luke pouted, “How is ‘Mikey’ easier to say than ‘Luke’? How does he like your hair better? I have curls!”

“Oh, just let him have the win, Luke,” Ashton said, straightening up to his feet. “You guys ready or what?”

After making sure Bailey and Mason had their ears protected, the men all situated themselves with their instruments and started playing.

Mason managed to sit quietly through about two and a half songs before he got up and went over to Ashton, resting his small hand against the man’s leg. Ashton nodded for them to keep going when Calum, Luke, and Michael turned to look at him in a silent question. Between beats, Ashton scooped Mason up into his lap and finished the song. “Whatcha think?” Ashton asked both everybody and nobody as he pushed sweaty locks of hair back away from his face.

“Transitions sounded better this time,” Michael commented.

“Sounded better than better. Sounded tour ready,” Luke corrected.

“Could do without audience participation,” Calum teased with a playful look at Mason on Ashton’s lap.

“Just because you missed a beat, doesn’t mean you have to be bitter, Cal,” Ashton teased back. “And speaking of audience participation. What’d ya think?”

With all four men watching her, Vanessa shrugged her shoulders. “I’m no music expert, but I’m with Luke and Mike. Sounded really good.”

Mason, displeased that the music had stopped, reached across Ashton’s lap to strike at the cymbal with his hands. “Here,” Ashton told him, handing Mason the drumsticks. “With these.”

Mason tried again, shrieking with excitement at the sounds he produced from hitting the different parts of the drum set. Much like how he had done in the basement a week ago, Ashton shifted so Mason was fully seated on one leg so he would work the bass drum with his free leg without jostling the boy too much in the process. “Atta boy, Mase!” Ashton praised.

Rehearsal was quickly disbanded in favor of giving Mason a turn at all the other instruments in the room, letting him choose his favorite. Mason sat with Michael the longest, happily swiping a guitar pick against the strings. “Well, now we know what to get him for his birthday,” Michael grinned, sticking his tongue out at Calum and Luke.

Calum grumbled that this was barely a win for Michael because all this proved was that Mason definitely liked guitars, making it a win for everyone except Ashton, while Luke pouted more about how unfair it was Mason liked Michael more than him because “We play the same bloody instruments! I have CURLS!”

Ashton laughed at his friends, letting Michael gloat in his little victories a little bit longer before getting Mason’s attention. “Mase? Drums?” He drummed a quick and small beat that had Mason launching himself off of Michael and across the room to Ashton’s lap.

“Ha!” Calum smirked, flipping off Michael. “Now who’s Mase’s favorite?”

“Bailey,” everyone answered without needing to think about it.

__

Tag List

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[bqstqnbruin]

No way

Ok here I am with something that was requested days ago but I suck whoops. I’m always taking requests, especially since it’s now technically my summer vacation (!) and I’m incredibly bored with nothing to do. This also took me like nine years to figure out the title for it and I was so close to leaving it untitled but I’ve been on a roll lately with them I couldn’t let that end.

Here’s the original request!

_______________________________

Just call him. Worst case he says no, and you bring someone else. You tell your mother that he was busy. She knows he’s a hockey player, he could have practice or games or other commitments that she doesn’t know about. She didn’t know he was your best friend. You have to ask him, though. Why are you nervous. 

You dial his number, frantically pacing around your kitchen praying that he answers so you don’t have to call back. “How much do you love me?” you spit into the phone as soon as you hear his voice on the other end.

“What are you going to ask me to do?” You can practically hear him roll his eyes at you, picturing the smile on his face that would also accompany it if this conversation were happening in person. 

You stop pacing for a minute, slightly stunned that he’s caught on to your normal tactic. “How do you know I was going to ask you to do something?” 

“I have known you for five years and not once have you asked me how much I love you without following it up with a favor.” You think back to all the things you’ve asked him to do in the past; go with you to the concerts that no one else was free to, go out to dinner with you when you needed to get out of the house, he’s even come to some of your presentations for classes when he knew he had practice immediately after. You were slightly annoyed that he figured out your plan. 

“Ok, fine, but, you always do the things I ask you to when I start with that, so really, this is your fault.” 

“What am I doing?”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Y/N, I need to know what I’m doing before I say yes.” He laughs, knowing he’s going to end up saying yes anyway.

“So remember how I told you that we’re having that big family reunion in like two weeks?”

You hear him take in a breath, letting out a heavy sigh, “Yes.”

“Well. My mom gave me two tickets.” 

“Why?”

“So remember -” 

“Stop saying so remember and just tell me,” he interrupts. 

“So remember how we took that picture together after the game against the Habs and I posted it on Instagram?” you ask him, ignoring his interruption. 

“Yes. Why? The longer this takes you the more likely I am to say to no.”

“Ok, my Instagram got connected to my Facebook and my dad saw the picture and showed my mom and she assumed we were dating so she sent me two tickets to the family reunion for, and I quote, ‘me and my boyfriend, Matt.’ I’m sorry,” you say really fast, hoping that he won’t process what you just sad in time to say no. 

“What?” he yells. You hear something land with a thud through your speaker, “Ah, fuck. Remind me to clean up my kitchen later.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “Please? Please, please, please? Everything is already paid for. Free flight, free food, free everything. You just have to come and pretend that we’re dating for a weekend and then I can tell my family in like a month that we’re just friends because we’re both wicked busy.” At this point, you’re bouncing up and down on your toes out of the nervousness of a negative answer.

He sighs again, “A few things. One, you’re from Chicago, you don’t say wicked. Two, what if I was busy? Three, why didn’t you tell her I wasn’t your boyfriend.” 

He sounds annoyed. He’s going to say no. “One, I’ve lived here long enough that I pick up the vernacular, you would do the same thing if you lived in the south or something. Two, she would kill you. Three, she would kill me.”

He stays silent, probably trying to think of ways to kill you himself. “I would not be asking unless I really needed you to come.”

“Oh my god, fine.” 

“Matthew Grzelcyk, you do love me!” 

“Whatever.”

 -----------------------------

“I can’t believe you actually roped me into this,” he groans as you work your way through O’Hare Airport. You two had just landed, trying to find your parents who said they would pick you up.

“Think of it this way. You pretend that we’re dating now, and I will owe you for the next fifty years that we are friends.”

“The fact that you’re assuming we’re still going to be friends after this weekend, let alone in fifty years is absurd.” 

You ignore his comment, knowing he’s cranky partially because your mom got you the earliest flight she possibly could, and because he was with you under these circumstances in the first place. 

“Y/N!” You hear someone call, snapping your head into the direction of the sound. You see your twin brother running towards you, looking like a child who hadn’t seen his parent in years. 

“Hey, Tommy!” You hand your bag to Matt, grabbing your brother in for a hug. 

He turns to Matt, “You must be Matthew, she must have some shit on you if she convinced you to come with her.” You had to tell Tommy that this was fake. He would have killed you if you didn’t explain why you all of a sudden had a boyfriend. Your parents didn’t care, but you talk to Tommy every god damn day. No way would it not come up. He and one of your cousins, Julianne, were the only ones who knew. 

“She owes me for the next fifty years of our friendship.” 

“Let’s just get you home before she does something else,” Tommy says, taking yours and Matthew’s bags, “And I would start acting like a couple before we reach the car, Mom and Dad didn’t want to come in.” 

Fuck. When you saw Tommy, you were hoping you could give Matt more of a crash course on the family; your grandparents had eight children, your dad was the youngest. You had 25 first cousins, ten of whom were married, with fourteen first cousins once removed of whatever your cousin’s kids were called. Your family was huge, and you weren’t sure he realized how big it actually was. 

“Hope you’re as good an actor as you are hockey player,” you let out, praying this would actually work. 

“Trust me. Have I ever let you down before?” He puts his arm around you as you approach the car, kissing your head as Tommy opens the trunk to throw your bags in. You have to admit, something about his act was comforting. It almost felt right. For a minute, it didn’t feel fake. 

“My baby is home!” your mother shrieks as soon as you get into the car. 

“And you must be Matt.” your dad echos your brother from earlier, reaching from the front seat to shake his hand. “Hurt my daughter and you’re dead.”

“Oh, my God. Dad!” He was always a protective papa bear when it came to your boyfriends, but he’s never threatened them to their face.

“I’m joking!”

“He can’t even kill a spider, let alone your boyfriend.” Tommy, jokes, knowing that if your dad wasn’t driving, he would be smacked upside the head. 

The entire car ride is spent with your mother interrogating Matt about his family, your dad pretending he knows more about the Bruins other than the fact that they were your favorite team growing up. You were just hoping they didn’t ask him anything too uncomfortable: the last boyfriend you had was asked about his medical records by someone in your family. It wasn’t your parents, but it’s not like they wouldn’t ask something like that. The best thing you could do was try to keep Matt with you, Tommy, and Julianne for as much time as possible. A weekend with your family would drive anyone insane. A weekend with you, your twin and your brother wouldn’t be the worst in comparison.

“Ok, so, you two, will be staying in Y/N’s old room,” your mom says once you pull up to your childhood home. 

“Did you put the air mattress in my room?” you ask, helping Tommy get the bags out of the trunk.

“No, your cousin Danny is using that in the basement. You two can share your bed,” your dad says.

Sharing a bed? Your parents are old fashion, what do they mean you’re sharing a bed with Matt? “Uh, it’s a twin bed, and Matt is kinda big.”

“Well, yes, but, no one else could take Danny in for the weekend, so unless you want to share a bed with your cousin instead of your boyfriend,” your dad starts. 

“It’s fine with me, sir, as long as it’s ok with you,” Matt tells your dad. From the short car ride, it seems like your dad actually likes Matt. Who would have thought the boy he threatened as soon as he sat down in the car would be someone he actually likes. 

You spend the rest of the night with just your immediate family, thankfully. The reunion was a two-day event that was going to start tomorrow, so you could spend the night quizzing Matt as needed. By the time your parents go to their room, you, Tommy, and Matt just sit in the family room with the TV on in the background. Matt had been asking Tommy the entire time about what you were like growing up; how annoying you were as a sister, the iconic fight you had at the bus stop because he was standing on your shadow, when he pulled your loose tooth out at the shoe store as payback for when you pulled his tooth out with a pair of toy plyers because he asked you to, when you nearly pushed him out the window but instead spilled milk all over the dinner table and the floor. 

“So, Y/N never actually told me how you two met.” 

“How did we meet?” you ask. It seems like one day he just showed up in your life and then never left. 

“You don’t remember?” he asks you as you were shaking your head. “We had dinner in the dining hall, you were friends with what’s his face that was friends with one of the guys and you just came and sat with us. Everyone else left and we spent the rest of the night playing bagel hockey with the knives and I haven’t been able to get rid of you since.” 

You think back to your freshman year. Matt was a junior when you were a freshman, but you don’t even remember that day in the dining hall. “I don’t,” you admit.

“It’s something I’ll never forget,” he says, getting up, “I’m going to go start getting ready for bed. I have a feeling that I’m going to need a lot of energy for tomorrow. Goodnight, guys.” 

“Night,” you and Tommy say in unison. 

As soon as you hear your bedroom door close upstairs, Tommy starts, “You’re sure this is fake? What aren’t you telling me?” 

“What do you mean?”

“The last person to act like that around you was your ex.” 

“My ex is the human equivalent of the dog shit you started crying over when you stepped in it when we were five.”

“Yes, but before we agreed he was my stepped in dog shit he acted the same way Matt did around you.” 

“He’s just one of my best friends.” There was no way Matt would like you. There’s no way you liked Matt. No way. 

“If you say so.” 

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

Your house and yard were filled with the million people that made up your immediate family. The children were running around, your cousins were in the backyard drinking, your dad and his siblings were in the kitchen and living room, while you, Matt, Tommy, Julianne, and two of your other cousins were sitting on the front porch. You were doing everything in your power to stay awake, practically falling asleep on Matt’s shoulder while he kept rubbing your arm and nearly force-feeding you in a poor attempt to try to keep you awake. 

You went up to your room right after Tommy said he was sure Matt liked you. With his words ringing through your head and driving you insane, paired with the fact that Matt was sleeping in the bed next to you and at one point was spooning you, you couldn’t fall asleep until 4:30 that morning. Then, at 5:00 on the dot, your mother burst into your room, yelling about how you needed to help get everything ready for when Dad’s family was arriving at 1:00 pm. Except 1:00 pm really meant 2:00 pm or later to your dad’s family, and you had gotten almost everything done the night before. You tried to go back to sleep while Matt was resting peacefully in your bed because your mom insisted your ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t need to help, but she kept thinking of different things for you to do, to go get, to make sure you had enough of. 

You were exhausted, long story short. “Babe, do you need coffee?” he whispers into your ear.

“Yes, please,” You share a quick kiss, Matt getting up to find caffeine as your other two cousins start to grill you on your ‘relationship with Matt. Julianne and Tommy stay silent, trying not to start laughing, exchanging looks that are driving you crazy. Julianne probably thinks the same thing Tommy does: they both think there’s more going on between you and Matt besides a fake relationship. You admit, you’ve always loved Matt, but that love was the same love that you had for Tommy or Jules. 

Eventually, the two others leave to go find more food, leaving you, Tommy and Jules sitting there while Matt is still nowhere to be found.

“Don’t say it,” you start. You know exactly what Julianne is going to bring up, and her having the same wrong opinion as Tommy was dangerous.

“This relationship is in no way fake.” Julianne shrugs, Tommy shooting you his annoying ‘I told you so’ look.

“It’s fake, I promise.”

“It might be, but, Y/N, you like him and he likes you.”

“Not true.” 

“Ok, well. He’s here with our crazy ass family. You look at each other the way Izzy and I look at each other,” Julianne starts, referencing her girlfriend, “That kiss was not something I would do with a fake date. I know what you were like with your dog-shit ex, and it was the same way you are with Matt right now.”

“Could it just be that we’re good at pretending?” 

“No one would play pretend with you because you took everything too literally when we were children and you have not changed,” Tommy butts in.

“Shut up. I’m going to go find Matt with my coffee,” you tell them, getting up to leave them with their ridiculous theory. You didn’t like Matt. You couldn’t like Matt.

You finally find him in the kitchen, surrounded by your aunts and uncles. He looked so natural sitting there with your family. He was making everyone laugh with his stories from the locker room, growing up on the Garden ice with his dad working there. The cup of coffee that he was supposed to bring you, still in his hand as your entire family just stares at him in intrigue, his eyes sparkling, his dimple showing as the smile on his face is plastered there that starts to make you melt.

Wait, shit. He couldn’t make you melt. If he made you melt, that means Tommy and Julianne were right. He makes eye contact with you, but you can’t stay there looking at him. You can’t like him. You don’t like him. You practically run to your bedroom, praying he doesn’t get up and follow you until you hear him say, “Excuse me, I need to deliver this coffee to Y/N.” 

“Hey, what was that about?” he asks, not even bothering to knock on your door as you pace back and forth. You like him. You fucking like him? How did this happen?

“What do you mean?” you try to play it off like you didn’t just look like a deer in headlights once he looked at you with that dumb cute face. You can’t even look him in the eyes right now. Why did you have to bring him? You could have just brought your friend and told your mother he was busy. You shouldn’t have even brought it up in the first place, because then you wouldn’t be in this situation. 

“Did you hear what I just said? Y/N, why are you acting so weird?” You didn’t even notice he had been talking while you were internally freaking out.

“Because I’m sleep deprived and have a crush on you and I don’t know how to act right now!” you spit out, your mouth working faster than your mind. You were stunned that you actually just said that to him. You just told him you had a crush on him? How stupid were you? “This was just a bad idea. I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me in the first place because then I wouldn’t have realized that and Tommy and Julianne wouldn’t have gotten into my head and made me so crazy.”

You look at him. He hasn’t said anything while you’re rambling, his eyebrows still raised in shock over the bomb you just dropped on him. You just ruined your friendship with him. How are the two of you supposed to fly back to Boston and stay friends after this?

“I’m just going to go back to my family and try to not... not cry, I guess?” you say, trying to push past him.

“Y/N,” Matt starts, grabbing your arm trying to keep you from leaving.

“No, it’s-” Before you can finish, his lips find yours, kissing you. Not the kisses that he had been giving you in front of your family. The kind of kiss that would drive you crazy when you were a teenager. The kind of kiss that made you feel like you could travel through to the stars, that you would never come down from the high you were feeling in that moment. You didn’t want it to end, even though you know it would. You could hear your family downstairs start to call everyone in for dessert, Matt pulling away even though it felt like neither of you wanted to. “What?” was all you could let out.

“I might have been a pain when you asked me to come, but you have no idea how excited I was for something like this. You were the girl that I couldn’t get since we met and played bagel hockey all night.”

“This wasn’t fake for you?”

“It was only fake for me because it would be fake for you. It would be pretty pathetic on my end if I thought it was real and you didn’t. It would also be something that would need a restraining order,” he laughs, pulling you closer to him. 

“So then, are we pretending still?” 

“Nah, we don’t have to. Let’s go get some dessert?” he asks, leading out of your room, your mom still trying to round everyone up. 

“Yeah, why not.” 

[madpanda75]

The Romantics Series  “In Sickness and In Health” Part Two

Part Two where we find out what happens to the reader and see if Rafael really does murder Chet Aldrich. Thanks for all the love and comments on Part One! Title credit to @sass-and-suspenders​ ❤️ 

The song Rafael sings is Drume Negrita, an Afro-Cuban lullaby

Warning: Hospital scenes, brief mention of death, angst, and fluff

4800ish words (It’s long! Take breaks! Stay hydrated! Grab a sandwich 😂)

The taxi cab came up to the hospital entrance. Rafael threw a wad of cash at the driver. “Keep the change.” He shut the car door and ran inside, bumping into Chet who was on his way out. The frat boy appeared to be unscathed, not a mark on him. “Oh hey, Roger,” he said.

Rafael gripped the man by the shirt. “What happened? Where’s Y/N?”

“Chill out. She’s being looked at by the doctor right now.” Chet shook loose of his grip. “We got into a little fender bender. It’s no big deal. Well, except my car, but luckily there wasn’t too much damage.”

Rafael saw red, his blood boiling. Grabbing Chet once again, he slammed him up against the wall, gaining attention from several people. “You could’ve killed her and you’re more worried about your precious car,” he snarled.

“Get off me!” Chet pushed Rafael causing him to stagger back a few steps. Rafael glared at the frat boy, his fists shaking in fury. “She’s fine. Just has a few scratches. What’s up with you two anyway?” He scoffed. “You in love with her or something?”

Rafael lunged at him once more just as an attendee came to break them up. “Is there a problem here?” the attendee sternly asked.

“No,” Chet said, smoothing his shirt, staring at Rafael. “No problem at all.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

“And for the last time, the name is Rafael!” Rafael shouted as Chet left the hospital. “Asshole,” he muttered under his breath and went over to the nurses’ station. No one was there and he urgently knocked on the counter in the hopes of getting someone, anyone, to help him. “Excuse me! Hello?”

A woman with a tag that read “Ellen” trudged over to the counter, her head down while intently reading a file folder. “Can I help you?” she asked in a monotone voice, never once looking up at him.

“I’m looking for a patient who was admitted here about an hour ago.”

“Name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he replied.

Ellen sighed and opened another file, moving at a snail’s pace as she looked for your information. “Are you family?” “Well, no but—” “Are you listed as her emergency contact?” “No, her mom is but—” “Then you can’t see her. Hospital policy states only family and emergency contacts may see a patient outside of visiting hours. Come back again later,” she replied. “I’m her husband!” Rafael blurted out in a moment of panic.

Finally catching Ellen’s attention, she looked up at him for the first time. “Husband?”

“Uhhh...yes, ma’am.” Desperate to see you, he said the first thing that came into his head. Now he could only hope that the nurse would believe him. Judging by the skeptical look on her face, it wasn’t working.

“Then why aren’t you her emergency contact?”

“Well, we haven’t had time—”

“And where’s your wedding ring?” she asked before Rafael could even answer her first question.

He quickly put his left hand behind his back. “I left it—”

She arched a brow, taking in his Harvard t-shirt and flannel over shirt. “Aren’t you a little young to be getting married?”

“I am 21 years old and so is my wife. Last I checked it’s not illegal for anyone over the age of 18 to marry,” Rafael retorted, his patience wearing thin. “And while I may not have a ring on my finger, if you want further proof of the validity of our marriage I can tell you that my wife was born on November 8, 1971. She snuck out of the house when she was 15 to go see The Cure in concert. She eats cucumbers dipped in peanut butter which I find absolutely disgusting, but she claims it’s delicious. She always drinks chocolate milk with her pancakes. Her favorite color is purple, but not just any purple. It’s violet, like the color of the sky just before the sun sets. She’s seen the movie, This is Spinal Tap, at least a hundred times. She knows every word to Rapper's Delight. She is the love of my life. And right now she is terrified and in pain and she needs me. So, I’m going to ask once again may I please see my wife or do I need to go to your supervisor,” he said with finality, crossing his arms, refusing to back down.

Ellen remained deadpan after Rafael’s impassioned speech; however, much to his relief she called over one of the other nurses. “Judith, please take Mr.—”

“Barba,” Rafael said and puffed out his chest a bit.

“Mr. Barba over to see his wife, Y/N Y/L/N. She’s in the emergency ward.”

The nurse named Judith gave him a kind smile. “Follow me, Mr. Barba.” Rafael followed her through a pair of double doors and down a long hallway. “Young love, huh?”

Rafael blushed. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, I’m sure your wife will be happy to see you.” She led him to a large emergency room. The place was chaos. Patients lying in beds with varying ailments or wounds, doctors and nurses scrambling around.

Rafael felt his stomach churn when he saw a man sitting in a bed with a steak knife sticking out of his cheek. “What are you looking at?” the man yelled at him.

“Nothing,” he muttered and ran to catch up with Judith, worried what state he would find you in.

She stopped at the far corner of the room and pulled back the curtain where you were lying in bed, dressed in a hospital gown. Your face was pale with a few cuts on your cheeks and a small angry gash on the right side of your forehead, your right arm swollen and bruised.

Rafael was taken aback. You looked so small, swallowed up by that big bed, your eyes were wide and fearful. It was a stark contrast to the confident, beautiful woman with the larger than life personality he fell in love with. All he wanted to do at that moment was hold you in his arms and take away your pain.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Judith softly said. “Look who came to be with you.”

Your eyes lit up as soon as you saw your best friend. “Rafi!”

“Y/N,” he breathed and rushed to your side. “Thank God you’re alright.” A few tears slipped down your cheeks. Rafael reached out with a hesitant hand and wiped them away. You leaned into his touch, instantly comforted by his presence.

Judith took your vitals, smiling as she observed your interaction. “Your husband has been so worried. You should’ve heard the fuss he was making earlier.”

“Husband?” You furrowed your brow in confusion. “We’re not—”  

Rafael placed his hand over your good one. “Yeah, hermosa. Can you believe they wouldn’t let me see you?” He gave you a pleading look to go along with his charade, his right eye twitching slightly.”

“I can’t believe that, honey,” you slowly said, the term of endearment sounding foreign on your tongue. “I’m glad you’re here now.”

“How long have you two been married?”

“One year,” you answered.

“Three months,” Rafael said at the same time. You both glanced at each other and chuckled.

“We’re newlyweds,” you explained.

“But it feels like we’ve been together forever.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your cheeks turning a brilliant shade of pink.

“You two remind me of me and my husband. We were college sweethearts, been married 20 years next March. Now all he does is sit on the couch and clean his belly button out with his car keys.” Judith wrote something on her clipboard before listening to your heartbeat. “You can go ahead and give her a kiss,” she told Rafael.

Rafael froze for a second. “Oh I—”

“Go on. She won’t break,” Judith encouraged.

He licked his lips and leaned down, placing a soft, chaste peck on the corner of your mouth. The kiss lasted a millisecond, but it felt as if time stood still. A spark shot through your body the moment his lips came in contact with yours. Slowly he pulled away, his green gaze never leaving yours, trying to remember how to breathe after that small gesture.

“Whoops, your heartbeat started racing,” Judith said, taking the stethoscope out of her ears.

“It..It..did,” you stammered.

“Mmhmm, I think I know why,” she said in a sing-song voice. “The doctor will be right with you.” With a sly wink, she left, closing the curtains behind her.

You arched a brow at Rafael once the nurse had left. “Husband, huh?”

“It was the only way they’d let me back here.” He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Rafi, I’m so scared,” you said, your voice breaking. “Please don’t leave me.”

He vehemently shook his head and ran his fingers through your hair. “I’m not leaving. I’m going to be right here. I promise.”

You softly began to cry. During your freshman year, you had taken a month off of school to be with your father when he was sick. Most of it was spent at Northwestern Memorial Hospital helping your mom. Memories of those few weeks came flooding back— the smell of iodoform, the cold sterile room where your father slipped away. Ever since then you hated hospitals and here you were stuck in one, but at least this time Rafael was with you. “I miss my dad. I wish he was here.”

“I know,” he whispered, reaching for a tissue and gently dabbing your cheeks.

Just then the curtain was pulled back and an older man with glasses and a white coat walked in. “Hello, Ms. Y/L/N. I’m Dr. Cohen.” He looked down at his chart. “I see we got into a little fender bender today.”

“Yes, there...there...was a cat that ran into the street and we had to stop and the...the...car got rear-ended.” You hiccuped, barely able to catch your breath, crying harder as you explained what happened.

“Shhh, it’s ok. You’re safe,” Rafael softly said.

Dr. Cohen looked over at him. “And you are?”

“He’s my husband,” you explained, getting butterflies in your stomach just by referring to Rafael as your spouse.

“Right, well let’s take a look and see what we got here.” Dr. Cohen began to examine you—flashing a light in your eye, checking your heartbeat, inspecting your body for any broken bones. You winced in pain when he felt your right arm. “It looks like your arm is broken and you’ll have to get a few stitches on that cut, but other than that your vitals are fine. I’d still like to run a few more tests, take some X-rays, and as a precaution keep you overnight for observation.”

“Ok,” you replied. “Thank you, doctor.”

Doctor Cohen had you turn your head so he could tend to your cut. You whimpered in pain, trying to focus on Rafael as the doctor began to clean and suture your wound.

Rafael squeezed your hand. “Your mom’s on her way in. She should be here tonight.”

You gave him a shaky smile before gasping as the sharp needle pierced through your skin. He felt hopeless, wanting nothing more than to take away your pain. Letting out a nervous breath, he did the first thing that came to mind and started to serenade you with a Cuban lullaby that his abuelita would sing to him.

Mamá la negrita se le salen lo pie e' la cunita y la negra Merce' ya no sabe que hace'. Tú drume negrita que yo va' compra' nueva cunita que va' tené capite' que va' tené cajcabel. Si tú drumi yo te traigo un mamey muy colorao' y si no drumi yo te traigo un babalao que da pau pau. Tú drume negrita que yo va' compra' nueva cunita que va' tené capite' que va' tené cajcabel. Si tú drumi yo te traigo un mamey muy colorao' y si no drumi yo te traigo un babalao que da pau pau. Tú drume negrita que yo va' compra' nueva cunita que va' tené capite' que va' tené cajcabel.

Your heart skipped a beat, listening to your best friend. You had never heard him sing before. His voice was beyond beautiful, it was warm and comforting. You were lost in his melody. Lost in his shy smile. Lost in him. For the first time that night, you felt at peace.

“All done,” the doctor said. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”

“It was incredible,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving Rafael. “I mean, yeah it was nothing.” You cleared your throat and blushed.

“Ohhhkay,” Dr. Cohen said, glancing between you and Rafael. “An orderly will take you to get some X-rays for that arm.” The doctor stood up and left, closing the curtain. “Kids,” he muttered, chuckling to himself.

*****

Rafael paced around the waiting room, wearing a path on the linoleum floor while the doctors ran more tests on you. Checking his watch for the umpteenth time, he sighed and took a sip of his fifth cup of coffee. Finally, Dr. Cohen came out and told him that you were resting comfortably and he could go back and see you. As the doctor led him to your room, he noticed several members of the staff staring at him and whispering to each other. Little did he know that word had gotten out, courtesy of Judith, about the cute young couple in the emergency ward. You were the talk of the hospital.

Upon seeing Rafael, you gave him a sleepy smile. Your right arm was in a cast and you had a few butterfly bandages on your face. The doctor explained that you were given a drug for the pain and it would take 6 weeks for your arm to heal, but other than that you would make a full recovery.

Once he left, Rafael pulled up a chair and sat next to you while you flipped through channels on the TV, finally settling on Unsolved Mysteries. Halfway through the episode, he noticed you shivering. “Are you cold or are you shivering cause you’re just as freaked out as I am by this show?”

“I’m cold. Will you lay down next to me?”

“What if we get caught?”

“Then you can blame it on me. Please, Rafi. I’m sick,” you whimpered, pouting your lip and batting your lashes. Between the pain-killers and the exhaustion, you were acting a little loopy.

He snorted a laugh. “You’re gonna milk this for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

“Damn right I am.” You shifted over and patted the space next to you on the bed.

Rafael looked back at the door for a second, making sure the coast was clear before getting into bed next to you. As gently as possible he wound his arm around your shoulders. “Am I hurting you?”

“Nope.” You snuggled up against him and let out a contented sigh. “Mmm, you’re so warm.”

Rafael’s body molded to yours. He rested his cheek against the crown of your head, running his fingers up and down your arm. Even scraped up and in a hospital, you were as beautiful as ever, your skin as soft as silk, your hair still smelled like your green apple shampoo.

You shut off the TV, both of you lay there in silence. Rafael thought you had fallen asleep until he heard your voice. “So what’s our story?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like where do we get married? Where do we live? How many kids do we have? Every couple has a story. What’s ours?” You looked up at him and smiled. “I’ll start us off. We get married by candlelight in the same church my parents did on a late spring evening. And I end up wearing some big ridiculous poofy dress that my mother insists on that makes me look like a cupcake,” you teased.

“Excuse me, but you do not look like a cupcake on our wedding day,” Rafael softly said. “You look absolutely breathtaking, like a goddess, ethereal and radiant. I can’t take my eyes off you.”

Your cheeks turned bright pink. Biting your lip, you shifted your focus to a loose thread on his flannel shirt, too embarrassed and shy to meet his gaze as you continued. “You look so handsome. It takes all my strength not to run down the aisle and fling myself into your arms.”

“So what happens next?” he asked, enjoying this game you were playing.

“Well now that I know you have an incredible voice”—you playfully poked him in the ribs—“you serenade me at the reception.”

“And you recite a poem by Shelley or Keats,” he added.

“Then we dance under the stars, maybe to a song by Depeche Mode or Joy Division.” You closed your eyes, envisioning the two of you swaying together to the music. Your guests fading away because your whole world was right there in your arms. Rafael followed suit and closed his eyes, shifting closer to you. “After the wedding, we honeymoon on some exotic island with white sand beaches and crystal blue water. Of course, we rarely spend any time on the beach.”

“We don’t?” he asked, picturing you in a skimpy bikini.

You shook your head. “Nope, we spend most of our time in the hotel suite.”

A smirk tugged at Rafael’s lips as he continued with the story. “After the honeymoon, we move to New York. I’m a lawyer working at a prestigious firm and you’re a Pulitzer Prize winning author.”

“You wear suspenders and fancy three piece suits everyday—”

“Suspenders?! Really?”

You laughed and playfully nudged him with your foot. “Yep and you look sexy as hell while I stay at home and work on my latest literary creation. And we’ll have two kids, a girl and a boy, Cecilia and Leo.”

His heart skipped a beat at the thought of having a family with you, silently wondering if they would have your hair color or his eyes. “I’ll help coach the debate team and you can be Troop Leader for the Girl Scouts.”

“Cecilia and I will visit your firm and get everyone to buy girl scout cookies,” you said. “Then we have another baby.”

“Another baby!?” Rafael’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

You shrugged. “We get a little tipsy at the Harvard Reunion. One thing leads to another and then nine months later we welcome a little girl, Paloma, into the world.”

Rafael ran his hand through your hair. “She’ll have all of us wrapped around her little finger since she’s the baby of the family.”

“We’ll go on vacations, have family dinners, go to school pageants, decorate the fridge with macaroni art, and get sticky chocolate kisses. We’ll be more in love than ever and we’ll live happily ever after.”

Rafael opened his eyes and studied your face. Your eyes were still closed, lost in that perfect world you both created with your words. He audibly swallowed and cupped your cheek. “Y/N,” he whispered.

You opened your eyes to find him staring at you. The electricity between you both was palpable. You were like a moth to a flame, completely drawn in by him. Tilting your head up, you inched closer, your noses bumped up against one another, his hot breath on your face. “Oh God, this is really happening,” you thought. Just as your lips were about to connect, the door opened and in stepped your mother, her face fraught with worry.

“Mommy!” you exclaimed and instantly sat up.

She ran to you and gently pulled you into her arms, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, baby. Are you alright? I was so scared.”

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice slightly muffled from being locked in her embrace. “The doctor said I could go home tomorrow.”

She kissed your forehead and lovingly stroked your hair when she locked eyes with Rafael, who was still laying in bed with you. The pair exchanged an awkward glance. “Hi, Rafael.”

Rafael immediately jumped out of bed, his cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. “Hi, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Rafi took good care of me.” You reached for his hand. “He’s the best husband ever.”

Your mother slowly stood up from the bed, her jaw dropping to the floor. “Husband?!”

“Oh didn’t you hear? I’m married now,” you replied and gave Rafael a sly wink.

“Married?” Your mother tried to maintain her composure. After all, she was once young and dumb, but her panicked tone gave her away.

Worried that she was about to have a heart attack, Rafael spoke up. “We’re not actually married. It’s a long story.”

You laid back in bed, looking between your mother and Rafael. “My two favorite people in the whole wide world,” you sighed.

Your mother chuckled and fluffed up your pillow. “I see they gave you the good drugs.” She pulled up a chair and sat down. “So who wants to explain why you decided to lie about being man and wife.”

*****

Once you had fallen asleep, your mother quietly left your room and went over to the vending machine running into Rafael who was getting another cup of coffee. “Long night, huh?” She gave him a sympathetic smile.

Rafael yawned in response.

“So how long have you been in love with my daughter?” she asked while deciding between a Reese’s and a Snickers bar as if she was casually bringing up the weather.

Taken by surprise, Rafael took a large gulp of coffee and burnt his tongue. “I...uh...I don’t—”

“Rafael, come on. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

He looked down at the floor, focusing on his shoes before facing her. “Since the first day I met her,” he confessed.

She nodded her head and picked up her candy bar. “I suspected as much. You know she’s in love with you too,” she said.

“You think so?” he asked, following her out into the hallway and over to a small waiting area.

“Rafael, I’ve seen you two together and I know my daughter. She lights up whenever you’re around.”

Rafael was never one to express his emotions. He still had nightmarish flashbacks from high school when Lauren Sullivan turned him down in front of the entire junior class. Poor Rafael was left standing in the cafeteria with nothing but a tray of Salisbury steak, creamed corn, and humiliation. Now that his secret was revealed, he should have felt vulnerable and exposed, but instead he found comfort in your mother’s words. He was tired of hiding his feelings for you and it was a relief that someone knew. “I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid to tell her.”

“You know I was your age when I met Y/N’s father. I accidentally smacked him on the head with a sign at an anti-war protest.” She giggled, thinking back to that fateful day.

A smile tugged at Rafael’s lips. Your mother’s laugh sounded just like yours. “Really? Y/N never told me that.”

“We were madly in love for twenty years until he passed away. What I wouldn’t give for just one more chance to tell him how I feel. Tell him how much I love him.” She tilted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes shiny with tears. “So here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna go home, get some sleep, and tomorrow morning you’re gonna tell Y/N how much you love her. Don’t let life pass by without telling the people you love how you feel about them.” With a gentle pat to his knee, she stood up and began to walk back to your room.

Rafael followed suit and went his respective way, heading in the direction of the elevators when your mother called his name. She half-jogged over and pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you for taking such good care of my daughter.”

“I’d do anything for her,” he softly said.

“I know.” She smiled and left him just as the elevator doors opened. He stepped inside, hopeful of what tomorrow would bring.

*****

Rafael fidgeted while he waited in line at the hospital gift shop. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, nervous and excited, going over and over in his head the speech he had prepared for you. This was a crucial turning point in your relationship. Everything had to be perfect. Stepping up to the counter, he set down a single red rose and a small teddy bear with a bandaid on its head. The cashier, who was a less than enthused teenage girl wearing black lipstick and a nose ring, began ringing up the items.

“Hi,” Rafael said with a big goofy grin. “These are for my girlfriend. Well, she’s not my girlfriend yet. She’s my best friend, but I hope that’ll change soon.”

“Uh-huh,” the cashier replied.

“Yeah, she’s getting out today. Thought I would stop by early and surprise her. I had a long talk with her mom last night and she told me to just go for it and tell her how I feel and you don’t care at all do you?”

“Not really.” She loudly smacked her gum between her lips. “That’ll be $13.82.”

Rafael rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet, handing over the money. After taking his change, he grabbed the flower and bear and made his way out of the gift shop when he saw something that stopped him in his tracks.

*****

“You know I can walk. I’m not an invalid,” you grumbled as an orderly wheeled you out of the hospital with your mother in tow.

“Hospital policy,” the orderly replied.

“You’ll be on your feet soon enough, sweetheart,” your mother said. All three of you made your way outside when you noticed she was twisting her head as if she was looking for someone.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Oh, nothing. I thought maybe Rafael would show up.” She leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “I’m gonna get the car. I’ll be right back.”

While waiting, you wondered why she was expecting Rafael to show up. The poor guy was probably home, passed out in bed. Flashbacks of last night came rushing back. What started as a terrifying ordeal quickly changed the moment you saw him. The lullaby. Your fantasy life together as husband and wife. The almost kiss. But then that gnawing doubt crept back into your mind. Perhaps he was just placating you. After all, you were scared and in the hospital. He may have been saying anything at that moment to calm you down.

You continued to ruminate on the situation when you heard your name being called. Looking up, you saw none other than Chet Aldrich balancing a large bouquet of roses and a teddy bear that was almost as big as you. “What are you doing here?” you blurted out.

Chet bit his bottom lip and kicked at the pavement. “I came to apologize for leaving last night. These are for you.” He placed the flowers and stuffed animal in your lap.

“Thank you,” you replied, slightly in shock by the gesture.

“Let me give you some privacy,” the orderly said with an awkward chuckle and walked back into the hospital.

Once the orderly left, Chet let out a big breath. “I’d still like to make it up to you. Maybe I can take you out on Saturday night?”

“Like a date?”

Chet blushed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, like a date.”

You thought of Rafael for a moment then quickly pushed him aside. It was time to grow up and move on. A smile slowly spread across your face. “I’d love to,” you said, unaware that you were being watched the entire time.

*****

Rafael saw the whole thing through the gift shop window. The three dozen red roses. The gigantic bear. The smile you gave Chet that made him weak in the knees. He saw how Chet tried to win your mother over with a fake laugh and a cheesy compliment on how she must be your younger sister.

Rather than walk out and be humiliated, he waited in the gift shop until you had driven away before leaving himself, throwing his measly rose and cheesy bear into the trash. There was a tightness in his chest and a wave of pain washed over him, consuming him. He couldn’t catch his breath. Placing his hand over the left side of his chest, he felt the rapid steady beating against his palm. “So this is what a broken heart feels like,” he thought as he made the long walk home alone. The dream life you had mapped out together would remain just that. A dream.

@glimmerglittergirl​ @southern-magnolia​ @sweetcannolicarisi​ @delia26​ @obfuscateyummy​ @sass-and-suspenders​ @eclecticminded​ @thatesqcrush​ @katmstanton​ @amirightcounsellor​ @beltzboys2015-blog​ @letty-o​ @sonnysdoll​ @lyssa1385​ @sweetsummertime99​ @burningsorr0ws​ @gibbs274​ @izzythefanfreak​ @babypink224221​ @livxrafa​ @esparza-army​ @obsessionprofessional​ @ottosuricato​ @melsquared79​ @dreila03​ @frenchiefoxy​ @tropes-and-tales​ @thecraziestcrayon​ @goodluckfindingone​ @scarlettsoldier​ @amirightcounselor​ @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii​ @imagine-all-the-imagines​ @imjustreallynosy​ @graniairish​ @ashley-chi​ @lolacolaempath @cocomel0613​ @mysterioustrashadventures​ @mrsrafaelbarba​

[coconut-cluster]

IS THERE LIKE SOME MORE HEAD CANNONS FOR THE AU CUZ I'M EXCITED FOR THIS (I LIKE LOVE HS AUS AND YOUR ONE OF MY FAVORITE WRITERS 💀💀💛💛)

oh thank you so much! (the story itself will probably be a bullet point fic, because frankly they’re less stressful and quicker to write on my end lol)

okay let’s see (under the cut because looooong whoops)

the gang all meet up at a little retro diner every friday after school and order milkshakes

Roman and Remus’ parents are practically rich, so whenever one of the others needs something, usually Ro offers to buy it without hesitating (Remus more often suggests stealing, but he’s all for Roman’s suggestion instead after they shoot down the whole thievery thing)

For instance, when Virgil’s hoodie gets ripped right as the weather gets cold, and he makes a few worried remarks about not having the supplies to sew it up since his first paycheck won’t come for another two weeks, Roman comes in the next day with a new jacket that he quietly hands him before band starts. 

(It’s black with purple embroidery on the sleeves, with a little stormcloud emblem on the chest - that’s the first time Roman makes Virgil blush, though he doesn’t see it.)

Roman is first chair trumpet, and the other trumpets actually kind of hate him? Not necessarily because he’s first - at least that’s what they say - but they don’t talk to him in band unless they’re making snide remarks, and they’re far more critical of his playing than anyone else. Roman claims it doesn’t bother him, but when the rest of his section posts about their after-concert meetup at a restaurant (which he isn’t invited to), he’s quiet for the rest of the evening. 

Dee and Patton hang out at Patton’s house a lot, since Dee’s parents (Patton’s aunt and uncle) kinda suck; Dee teaches Patton how to make scones, and Patton teaches him how to make the best hot chocolate. They’re a lot closer than a lot of kids at school seem to think.

Logan and Dee are co-captains of the debate team and have a “friendly” rivalry that’s pretty much only friendly for Patton’s sake, although they do enjoy discussing philosophy and trash-talking their crappy sociology teacher

Virgil writes songs in an old and well-loved journal; he doesn’t share them with anyone, but there’s a few about his new friends, and they’re definitely his favorite

Roman gets burnt out super easily, between his three sports and two performing arts, and with his insecurities about/constant desperate studying for math and science, he’s kind of always tired? He’s a naturally energetic person, but sometimes it all catches up with him and he just falls asleep where he is

(Like the time the gang’s on a weekend road trip and he falls asleep on Virgil’s shoulder, which Remus doesn’t let either of them live down for the next month)

((Virgil was kind of a mess about it because Roman looked so peaceful-))

Patton and Logan have been best friends since childhood and know each other like the back of their hands; they have had exactly three fights and feel awful about all of them

(One time, Logan’s aunt told them they would make a cute couple, and they both simultaneously stuck their tongues out at her. She didn’t know how to respond so she just nodded and never said it again.)

Patton plays ukulele and Logan plays his triangle accompaniment with a completely straight face. No one can tell if they’re a musical act or a comedy act, but they’ve won the talent show three years in a row. 

Dee is an exceptional speech writer and has a lot of awards from speech competitions - he’s a real audience charmer!

Remus and Roman once made a rule that they could never audition for the same role in theater so as not to foster unnecessary animosity between them, but it turns out not to be a problem because they never actually want the same roles anyway. Remus is way more of a villain kinda guy than Roman.

The whole gang comes to Roman’s baseball games to cheer him on - the first time Virgil comes, he brings a foam finger and waves it around with a completely straight face the whole game, and Roman has never wanted to punch (or kiss) someone so badly. 

Virgil is genuinely excited and bouncing on his toes the whole day when he finds out there’s an ice rink near the school; he played hockey at his old schools, he tells the gang, and he’s been trying to find somewhere to play it again since his family moved. They all head to the rink the next day and try to learn how to play - V goes easy on them, except Remus, who is remarkably good and scarily excited about the rough-housing. Regardless, it’s nice to see Virgil so happy. 

Patton and Roman hang out at each other’s houses a lot just to eat ice cream and talk about school, especially when they’re stressed

Remus’ bedroom has a lot of bars across the ceiling that he installed himself because he is, as he tells the others when they ask, “more comfortable when I’m looking down on everyone else.” Roman just snorts before Remus punches his shoulder.

The second ever time Roman makes Virgil blush (instead of the other way around) is before a band concert - Roman gets his nerves out via musicals, and without thinking, he sweeps Virgil up into a dance and sings My Petersburg from Anastasia. When they have to go onstage, Virgil has to take a second to himself because his face is so red. 

(On another note, Roman smells like vanilla and oranges, and Virgil realizes all his flirting might not just be to annoy Ro.)

Remus and Dee are like the chaotic neutral to Logan and Patton’s chaotic good. no i will not elaborate.

Virgil joins the soccer team in his first spring semester because his guidance counselor suggests he join a sport to “get all the nervous energy out before it builds up.”

(”What about therapy, Sharon?” is, apparently, not the correct answer to that suggestion)

He and Roman have regular arguments about whether baseball or soccer is the superior sport

(Regardless, Roman shows up to Virgil’s first match with a foam finger and vindicated smile)

Patton is Virgil’s number one supporter in literally everything and literally makes him lunches sometimes, complete with a note doodled on the paper bag

Virgil grumbles about it but he totally loves it

OUTFIT CHECK BECAUSE I WANT TO (pretend they’re cartoon characters and wear the same thing everyday lol): 

Remus: black and green bomber jacket, old band tee, and jeans that are like two inches too short for him; Dee: yellow knit turtleneck and black jeans (black denim jacket optional); Roman: red-orange-white striped sweater and red jeans, unless he’s in his baseball uniform; Virgil: Black and purple hoodie, black tee, and black ripped jeans; Logan: white button down under dark blue sweater, dark pants; Patton: blue sweatshirt or Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts

[onetwosevensquad]

Good Enough For You: Chapter Five

Doyoung x reader

Summary: You are your brother Yuta’s songwriter and Doyoung is his best friend and manager. When your brother gets his chance to go on tour, what happens when you have to spend two months on the road with your long time crush and scheming brother?

Warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship, I don’t think I even cursed in this one lol

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

———

The next week went by in a blur. You’re brother had a concert in Busan and the only thing worth noting was during the car ride there, you fell asleep on Doyoung. Your brother is never going to let either of you live that one down. Of course you still had to deal with the stares of his ex who you’ve come to learn is named Lexi.

She even tried to approach you at the Busan concert but, being the night in shinning armor that he is, Doyoung came to your rescue whisking you away to Yuta’s dressing room. You caught Mina up to speed, with Doyoung’s permission of course. He was actually happy to tell her as he knew she was trustworthy.

The Busan concert went swimmingly, your brother having the time of his life and the three of you watching from the sidelines. After the concert you had a day in Busan which you spent with Doyoung, Mina, and your brother. Yuta insisted that you spend the day at the beach which didn’t sound to bad. The three of you had a great time.

You and Doyoung sat on the shore while Yuta and Mina tried to drown each other. The two of you talked and got to know each other. You told him about a string of shitty ex’s who used you for fame or money. And he told you more about his relationship from hell with Lexi.

“There was this one time where I went out with Yuta, Johnny, and Taeyong,” he said. “We went to a club for Johnny’s birthday. Lexi had tracked my phone down and made a scene in the club. She accused me of cheating and said some pretty awful things to the guys.”

He looked sad. You couldn’t imagine what having a psychopath for a girlfriend was like. He gave you a sad smile which you returned before he continued.

“After that the guys convinced me to break up with her. But I couldn’t. I don’t know why. Then I found out she was cheating. Ironic I know. I told the guys and waited a few weeks. Then I confronted her and finally ended it.”

“Is that when she trashed your apartment?” You remember that. Doyoung stayed with you guys looking like a lost puppy.

“Yea. After the boys cleaned it, I sold it. To many bad memories,” he said. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder that seemed to relax his tense frame. You rubbed his shoulder a bit a pulled away once Mina and Yuta returned from the ocean.

The three of you stayed at the beach until sunset. You guys got back to the hotel around 11 pm and finally settled in. You and Mina shared a room, as you always do whenever you travel. The two of you packed, though there wasn’t much to do. Tomorrow you would be jetting of to Tokyo, Japan.

“So I saw you and Doyoung on the beach,” Mina called from the bathroom. She was doing her extravagant skincare routine that she did every single night.

“Yea what of it?” You asked, absentmindedly flipping through tv channels finding nothing of interest.

“Well I don’t know, it’s just you’ve been harboring this massive crush on him for like two years. You should say something,” she stated almost matter of factly. You glared up at her and she put her hands up in surrender. “All I’m saying is that with his ex here that would be the perfect revenge. And a distraction for the both of you,” she said wiggling her eyebrows.

You grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and threw it at her face. She just laughed and threw it right back at you. She plopped down on her bed and turned out the light. You did the same and turned of the tv. The two of you said goodnight but you didn’t fall asleep.

Instead you carefully got up and left the room. You weren’t tired, not yet anyway. So you decided a nice walk would do the trick. After carefully closing the door, you started your adventure down the hall. You didn’t get far however, because as soon as you rounded the corner, you came face to face with Doyoung. Well more like face to chest.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologized. You shook your head saying it was your fault. You noticed he was carrying a bag from the convenience store down the street. He noticed you staring and held it up. “I couldn’t sleep so I went to get snacks to eat while watching a movie. Hopping to bore myself to sleep,” he chuckled.

“Yea I couldn’t sleep either. Mina’s snoring was no help either,” you laughed and so did he. You took a moment to really admire him and his nice features. This man belongs in a museum, you thought.

“Well since neither of us can sleep, care to join?” He asked dangling the bag.

“But what about Yuta?”

“He’s gone,” Doyoung started. He noticed the startled look on your face and laughed as he started walking to his room. He motioned for you to follow and you quickly caught yourself up with his long strides.

“I mean he found someone he likes and decided to go and visit them,” Doyoung said fumbling for his key and you approached his room. He got it out and unlocked the door motioning for you to go in first.

“Poor girl,” you said looking around the room that was identical to yours a Mina’s.

“Guy.”

“What?”

“It’s a guy. He’s one of the interns. Dong Sicheng I think.” Doyoung said going to his bed and putting the bag of snacks down.

“Huh,” you shrugged. It was no secret to anyone close to Yuta that he wasn’t straight. He’s been with guys before but the last one didn’t go well so he’s kinda stuck with girls for the last year. It kind of sucked because he was never happy with girls.

While you were in your daze, Doyoung had settled into the bed snacks surrounding him. He looked comfortable in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie with the hood up. He was flipping through the channels trying to find a movie.

“You coming?” He said looking at you for a second. Hesitantly, you climbed into the bed and under the covers. You stole the bag of sour patch kids and opened it. You heard Doyoung chuckle next to you and he finally landed on Back to the Future.

You two got about three quarters of the way through the movie before you both passed out. The unfinished snacks had been moved to the bedside table and the wrappers discarded to the floor. Neither of you noticed but throughout the movie, the two of you shifted closer together.

Now, as the two of you slept soundly, your head was on his shoulder. Doyoung had fallen asleep shortly after you, his head falling on top of yours. He’s the one who put your head on his shoulder. He noticed you had nodded off and your head fell in an uncomfortable position. He put your head on his shoulder and couldn’t help put start to nod off himself.

The only thing that woke you two up at five am was Yuta screeching with Mina and some guy standing behind him.

———

Rose: part five is here! I literally edited this at 1 am. I know I said updates every Monday and it’s technically Tuesday so whoops. I’m actually pretty proud of this part so please enjoy :)

(GIF credit to owner)

[caffeinated-mendes]

The Band - Shawn Mendes

masterlist

previous work

synopsis: you’re a talented drummer, needed by many tour agencies, and you’ve just gotten another job. this time, you’re on tour with shawn mendes, and it’s one of the best tours you’ve been on. but before you’re close to finishing, you start feeling like you’re something more than a bandmate to shawn.

a/n: hey everyone! it’s been a while. i took a break from writing to focus on my priorities, and now i’m getting back into it. i might upload only once every month or two, but this way, i’ll probably be more consistent and my content will be better and longer. as always, thank you for reading. much love <3

word count: 14.7 k

warnings: swearing, implied/referenced nsfw content

*if you prefer, you can read this on ao3 here

“Are you the new drummer?” You perk your head up from your shaking knee, shifting in the plastic chair you’re sat in. A woman is standing in front of you, seeming to be in her late twenties, and she looked very professional. Black pencil skirt and a navy blue blouse, and bleached hair slicked back with a clipboard in her hand. 

You nod, “Yes, I was told to wait here.” You suddenly felt very underdressed next to her. She radiated confidence, and your distressed jeans and graphic tee were sub-par to say the least. Every audition you had you dressed up, but that was all you really dressed up for, save for parties. 

She grins a welcoming smile, “Perfect. You’ll fit right in. Come and follow me so you can meet the boys.” Grateful for the warmness in her voice, you pass the many hallways of the studio Shawn and his band had rented out. It was nice, and a little off the grid, which you didn’t mind. “I’m Missy, by the way. My real name’s Margaret, but everyone just calls me Missy.”

“It’s nice to meet you, then, Missy.” You politely reply, because you’re still unsure even if she was nice to you. It was hard to warm up to new people, but when you jammed out on the drums, it felt like everything around you fell away, and you didn’t worry about looking vulnerable. Missy’s heels click on the tile of the studio, which turns to thudding as you enter the carpeted room. Black sound absorption panels line the room, and a fluorescent light shines above, illuminating the otherwise dim room. 

Sat on an amp near a set of drums and a guitar rack was a short guy with dirty blonde hair gathered behind his neck. He wore athletic shorts and a muscle shirt, and gave off the vibe that he wouldn’t mind getting drunk with you any time you asked. He slapped on a shimmering black bass, and you were impressed at how well he played. You recognized a bassline from one of your favorite songs. “I love Flea,” you say, and he looks up, grinning an absolutely ridiculous smile. It didn’t match his appearance at all, and made him look dorky as ever. “It sounds great.” You gestured to his bass.

Missy turned to you, “This is Kit. He looks bulky but he won’t do you any harm, I promise.”

Kit sets his bass on the rack and walks up to you, taking your hand and kissing it, “M’lady.” His deep voice sets off a set of laughs between the two of you, “Pleased to meet your acquaintance. And yes, Flea is fucking amazing.”

You smile at his so eloquently-put sentence as another guy enters the room, this one much taller and leaner than Kit. “And this,” Missy turns to him, “Is Simon. He’s our guitarist-slash-vocal backup.” Simon grins, shaggy dark hair going into his eyes as he shakes your hand.

“I saw your audition video. You sound awesome,” He crosses his arms, “Let’s just hope Kit can keep up with you.”

“Shut up, dumbass,” Kit choruses from behind. 

Simon smirks, “Shawn should be here any minute. He ran to get us some coffee. I hope you’re okay with cream.” He turns to the soundboard, fidgeting with a track on the monitor. Missy leaves silently, rubbing your arm in comfort before she goes.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” You look around the room. In the middle of the studio is a microphone with headphones hanging on the stand holding it. Next to it is a beautiful guitar: it has three bronze and three brass strings and dark-stained wood. To the left of the stand are your drums for the time being. They’re glossy and black with shining cymbals, and two drumsticks placed on the bass drum. 

Kit picked up his bass again and revisited his spot on the amp, even when there was a perfectly good stool for him off the right of the microphone, “Go on,” He says to you, “Give it a go.” You inhaled and grabbed your set of drumsticks from your back pocket. They were special, a gift from your father, and you never wanted to be without them. They had little etchings at the bottom of each of the sticks, a little circle surrounding your initials. The stool underneath you creaked, and you moved the other pair of drumsticks to the ground. Simon smiles, watching you as you hit the pedal beneath you a few times, feeling the deep, booming sound resonate through your body. 

You start slow, picking a moderate tempo, and as the seconds pass, you increase the complexity and the speed, feeling a rhythm that explains how you feel yourself right now. Nervous, but excited. Excited for the new adventure, excited for a new chapter, but scared that you won’t find happiness on this tour. It never happens, but it’s still a doubt in your mind. This doubt booms out from the beat, and the cymbals mimic your strangled heartbeat, mimic your unsureness in yourself and your abilities. You begin to move your body with the momentum of the beat, your hair flicking wildly around you as you lean back and forth, bracelets rattling on your wrist and your sneaker hitting the pedal with such intensity that the ending feels like the end of a firework show: it’s sudden, and dramatic, and so adrenaline-filled you feel like you’re coming out of a trance. 

It’s silent for a moment, until you hear an unfamiliar cry going, “Yeah! Wooo!” and two other voices whooping and clapping. Looking up, you see someone standing against the closed door, grinning wildly. You exhale a breath of relief and get up from the stool, recognizing the figure. Shawn stood, his eyes glittering, his smile saying he was impressed. A set of coffees sat on the table next to him, dangerously close to the soundboard. 

“That was fucking awesome!” Kit comes up to you and whips you around in a circle, setting you down with a crazy look in his eye. Normally, you would’ve been weirded out by that much contact with someone you met five minutes ago, but it felt normal and comfortable. “We’re never gonna let you go,” Kit said. 

“Should I be scared?” You look and Shawn and Simon, pocketing your drumsticks again.

“I’m not sure, Kit gets attached,” Shawn replies, and walks up to you with his hand out, “I’m Shawn. I’m so glad we got you, I don’t know what I would’ve done without a drummer on this tour.” You shake his hand, and then put your hands in your pockets, rocking on your toes.

“I don’t know, but I’m glad I’m here too. I love traveling the world.” You look up at Shawn, his eyes not too far from yours. You were pleased to say you were taller than most people, but he still had a few inches over you. Shawn exhales softly, a small laugh, and you look at his curling brown hair falling onto his forehead, watching as he takes off his jacket and sets it on the desk chair in front of the soundboard.

Shawn hands you a cup of coffee and it warms your cold hands, a sign you were nervous. “Should we go through the setlist? We only have the studio for the rest of today.” Kit and Simon hum in agreement, and Shawn hands you a packet of sheet music. 

You refuse it, swallowing the sip of coffee you took, “Oh, don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I got all the songs memorized by now. I wouldn’t want to slip up in concert. I have my own at home, anyway.” 

He grins, “Perfect. Let’s start with Lost in Japan, yeah?” He directs the question to all of you as you both take your seats. From here, you can see all of them well. You knew you’d have to start to learn their mannerisms and they way the cued people in, Shawn especially, because you’d seen some guitar and drum solos in the setlist from the information they sent you. Simon moved to the keyboard off to the left of him, running through the melodic introduction to the song. You loved the intro, but loved it even more when the beat dropped and you came in with all your energy, feeling an amazing vibe from Kit’s bass, and every once in a while Shawn would look back at you to make sure you were alright, checking if you were feeling comfortable. You’d been with so many bands, but it never felt like this. Deep down, a tugging in your stomach told you that you had a feeling this was going to be one of the best years of your life.

The line for security was too long. It was the next morning, and you were stuck lugging your massive suitcase a few inches every few minutes because the Toronto airport didn’t know how to manage lines. It’s too early for this, you thought as you gazed out the huge windows lining the sleek airport. It was still dark, and your first stop was Dublin, so you had to leave before the crack of dawn to make your flight. You felt bad for the guys though, each of them having to carry an equally as large suitcase with their guitar cases. All of their cases looked the same: plastered with fragile stickers that were scratched and peeling at the edges. You scratched your head, feeling your loose ponytail. You may or may not have fallen asleep on the car ride there, resulting in your messy hair, and the boys may or may not have made a video of them scaring you awake once you arrived at the airport. 

You tugged on your hoodie, pulling the strings nervously, and once you realized you were tapping your foot and playing with the hair tie on your wrist, you took out your earbuds to distract you from the commotion of the line ahead of you. A relaxed melody floated into your head as you put them in, and Shawn shifted in front of you, getting ready to go through the scanner. He turned to face you and the boys, watching as his security guards inched closer to the four of you. You felt bad for him sometimes, because even not knowing him well, you knew that it was hard for him to go places and have normal experiences.

The music settled your nerves a bit, your hand tapping your thigh to the beat of the song. “What are you listening to?” Shawn asks quietly. You handed him an earbud, and he leaned close to you, connected by the cord. You felt your heartbeat quicken, but you didn’t know why. It must’ve been the song, because it was getting louder as it reached the bridge. “I’ve never heard this song,” Shawn says, and you hand him your phone so he can look at what it’s called. “I like it, I think I’ll download their album so I can listen on the plane.”

The sides of your lips turn in a smile, and he mirrors your expression back to you. “If you’re sitting next to me we can always share.” Shawn takes out the earbud, and hands it back to you as the song ends. 

“Okay, I think we will be because Kit and Simon like sitting next to each other. They say I snore.” Shawn nudges your shoulder, and you laugh, turning your gaze to the two of them behind you. They were messing with the sticker tags on their suitcases, unsure of how to straighten them out. 

“I’m sure you don’t,” You replied, and looked at him. He had his head close to yours, and from there you could smell his shampoo. It smelled like mint, and the scent drifted away as Shawn was called through the metal detector. You suddenly began to feel hot, even though it was March and freezing in the airport. Controlling your breathing, you put your cold hands on your face and started to gain some more control over your heartbeat. What was wrong with you? You had already built up your immunity from so many world tours, and knew you would only catch something once or twice during the tour. Were you already feeling sick?

Simon pushed you along through the tunnel, into the plane. He hated standing still like you, and now that the boys had left their guitars, he had wanted to board as quickly as possible. It was fun to learn all the guys’ quirks. You knew Kit the best so far, just because he never really stopped talking. He loved talking about his life and weird experiences he’d had, and honestly, it was fitting because you were such opposites. You knew how he hated cheese with a passion and once threw up four times in a row after chugging a gallon of milk in thirty seconds. He was very entertaining, to say the least.

You knew Simon had a little sister back at home, and he was from Chicago, which explained the way he said his As. He’d been playing guitar since he was nine years old, and you could relate to him in that way because you started on drums from a young age, too. You had met some of Shawn’s friends that traveled along and of course, his manager, and every other important person that came on tour with you all, but you stayed close to the band. After all, you had known them a day longer than anyone else.

Shawn hadn’t told you much, but he didn’t need to. His friends had already told you some embarrassing things about him, and you knew you would get to know each other better as the tour progressed. You didn’t want to pry.

You boarded the plane, and got into your assigned seat. There were only two seats together because you were flying first class, and you were glad to have the extra leg room and space. Looking out the window, you saw that it began to rain pretty hard, so you already anticipated some bad turbulence going into the sky. Luggage carriers zoomed around the plane, and you watched as the sun began to peek through the horizon. It streaked the sky a bright orange, and made the clouds pink. It gave you a warm feeling that you only got when you saw the sunrise. 

Shawn shuffled into the seat next you, snapping you out of your daydream. The lights shut off at that exact moment, making the inside of the plane glow blue at the ceiling, meaning passengers could sleep for a while before it got really bright. You could only see Shawn’s necklace sparkling as it escaped his hoodie, and some of his hair. Finally, your eyes began to adjust right as he got settled in. You pulled out your phone again and offered him an earbud. He took it with a smile. “What are we listening to?”

“My playlist. Prepared to be amazed at my exquisite music taste.” 

“Will do.” He put it in his ear, shuffling to the right side of his seat so he wouldn’t accidentally pull it out of your ear. At that moment you felt a bump in your back, ripping it out of your ear anyway.

“Sorry, Sticks!” Kit poked his head over your seat, and you looked up at him.

“Sticks?” You questioned.

“Y’know, you have your own special drumsticks. I gotta find some nickname to call you by.” He grins his dopey grin as he sits back down. 

“That’s a terrible nickname.” You call back.

He replies, “That’s why I’m keeping it, cause you don’t like it!” You could practically hear him smiling then. Shawn shakes his head, giggling with you. 

At that point the plane began to turn around, ready to go on the runway. You clenched your fists, tapping them on your legs as the plane got faster and faster, and finally, you were pushed back into your seat as it began its ascent. No matter how many times you flew on a plane, you hated getting in and out of the sky. Your mind went to the darkest situations, and you terrified yourself every time with the smallest possibility that you wouldn’t make it to the ground safe. 

You remembered your dad’s words to you when you were little. Whenever you would cry he would show you how to breathe. Holding onto your bracelets, you breathed in five seconds, held it, out five seconds. After your heart stopped racing, you looked out the window and completely ruined all the work you’d done. The plane was turning, but it looked like it was falling to you. Turbulence made it shake, quickening your heartbeat. You immediately shut your eyes.

A gentle tap went to your shoulder. You opened your eyes and looked at Shawn, who had concern plastered across his face, “Hey, are you okay?”

You gulped, “Yeah, I’m fine, I get a little panicky on planes. I’ll be fine once we’re above the clouds.” At that point, Shawn took your hand and squeezed it with both of his, warmth surging through. “What are you doing?”

“Pressure to the body helps people control anxiety, remind them that they’re there and okay, you know? Usually holding them works best because they’re soothing too, but-” he stopped himself, “Jeez, your hands are so cold.”

“Yeah, they get like that when I’m nervous.” You replied.

“Okay, just look at me. Don’t look at the windows.” His eyes met yours, and they never wavered. He began to breathe just like how your dad taught you, never letting go of your hand. He stopped after a minute or so. “There you go, now you’ll be okay. We’re above the clouds.”

“Thank you,” You said sympathetically. The music in your ears suddenly came back, and you realized you tuned it out before. Shawn began to rummage through his bag, taking out a case for glasses. He opened it, and put on the ugliest pair of glasses you had ever seen. They were big, orange tinted glasses that covered half his face. “What are those?” You asked, holding in laughter.

“What?” He looked at you like it was nothing out of the ordinary. “These? They help you sleep because of the orange lens.”

“You’re ridiculous.” 

Dublin came quicker than you expected. You must have fallen asleep on the flight, which was strange, since you never fell asleep on planes. You must’ve been mentally drained from take-off, you tell yourself. As expected, Shawn was fast asleep, adorning his orange glasses and your earbud still in his ear. 

Once you grabbed your bag from the overhead compartment, you sped your way through the plane and the tunnel, trying desperately to move your legs. You could feel the pins and needles in your legs and the humid air filling your lungs as you entered the airport. Kit and Simon walked with you, one on both sides, and Shawn lagging behind, talking to his friend Connor. He seemed nice when you had met that same morning, but you didn’t talk much after that.

Driving from the airport, you never got used to the feeling of being somewhere new. The sky was a pale blue with clouds streaked across it and driving along the weathered roads with the sun-baked buildings was another experience. The air smelled cleaner, at least cleaner than Toronto, and looking out the window of the car you and the boys were driving in, you could see shops open for business lining the street, selling bouquets of flowers, books, pastries, and so many other enchanting things. A double decker bus passed you, crowded with people snapping photos. Children ran along the sidewalk playing with kites and eating ice cream. It seemed like a wonderful place to live.

The hotel you stayed at wasn’t big, but a medium-sized building with a few floors. Since you were the only girl besides Alessia (and she was sharing a room with one of her family members) you would get your own room. Missy had stayed in Toronto, telling you that she’d be there for the Asian leg of the tour. You were content with being with Alessia and the guys, though, because you often found ways to entertain yourself. You didn’t doubt that Kit wouldn’t be entertaining nonetheless. 

Andrew, Shawn’s manager, handed all of you your keycards as you entered the lobby of the hotel. It looked nice; high ceilings, chandeliers, places to sit and a bar ready for anyone to sit at. All you wanted to do was sleep and the first concert wasn’t until tomorrow, so you took the first elevator and slipped out of the group as quietly as possible. When you unlocked your room, you were met with a queen bed, a bathroom, a small counter space, table with two chairs, a beautiful view from the window. White curtains blew from the wind that picked up in the room and your mouth watered at the smell of the bakery across the street. Setting your bag down, you began your mental hotel room checklist your mother ingrained into your head: check the mattress for bed bugs, take the top cover off because it’s never washed, put your suitcase in the closet, check inside and under all furniture for anything suspicious. 

You sometimes wondered how your mother and father even married each other, and stayed together at that. They were such opposites. She was a control freak, obsessed with keeping things orderly the way she wanted. He was relaxed, ready for anything that came his way. You wondered how people saw you as when they first met you. You cast the thought aside and closed and locked the window. You changed into leggings and a big t-shirt and crawled into bed, feeling the stress of the day fade away as you sank into the mattress. Within seconds, you fell asleep.

A harsh knocking woke you up from your sleep, and for a second you sat disoriented, not remembering where you were. The sun was setting outside, the horizon glowing. Events from the day came back to you, and knocking kept coming from your door. “Hey, you up?” Someone called on the other side. Yawning, you padded over to it, opening the door and rubbing your eyes.

It was Shawn, and he looked at you, hair a mess from turning in your sleep and the big t-shirt you wore going to your thighs. “Uh, sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up. I just wanted to know if you wanted to come get dinner with everyone?” He scratched the back of his neck, looking at you. He had changed into a green long sleeved sweater and black jeans, looking very put together. His hair had been tamed a little more, still curly but not sticking up in places. 

“Yeah, sure, and it’s no problem, I was tired. Are we having a rehearsal tonight?” You touched the bracelets on your wrist subconsciously, and took your hair out of its ponytail, releasing the tension from your scalp.

Shawn cleared his throat after looking at you strangely, “No, the hotel doesn’t have a drum set for you, so we can’t, but we’re gonna go down the street to a place Andrew reserved for us in about ten minutes.”

You nodded, “Alright, let me get dressed and I’ll be waiting in the lobby.” Shawn nodded, and turned to leave, but you caught his wrist. He looked back at you, hazel eyes boring into yours, “Hey, seriously though, thank you for helping me on the plane. I don’t like to tell people about that but it’s hard to hide it. Especially since you’re intuitive.”

“Thank you for the compliment, and hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” Shawn doesn’t take his wrist from your grasp, but you let it go.

“Well, technically, you’re my boss, so-”

“I don’t like that technicality. I want us to be friends. I want you to feel welcome with us, and I want to get to know you and the others to be your friends. So if that means helping you breathe every time we take off or have turbulence, I will gladly do that.” Shawn turns to leave again.

“You don’t even know yet if I work with you all on stage. How do you know I’ll get to stay?” You questioned.

He pressed the elevator button down the hall, to the right of you, “I have a feeling you will.” With that, he went inside the elevator and let the doors close on him.

You skipped and hopped along the cobbled streets of Dublin, laughing, looking up at the sky. As the breeze bit at your face and the moon looked back at you, you got a strange nostalgic feeling, a feeling that made you think you should remember this night forever. You and a few of Shawn’s friends had begun to walk away from the restaurant you had dinner at. Alessia, his special guest and opener, had begun to chat with you, and for a while you felt bad. Through all the commotion you didn’t even introduce yourself because you hadn’t even seen her, even though you knew all the drum parts to her songs. Her setlist was really fun to play.

Alessia ran along with you, a few of the others in tow. You had sparked some conversation about music, fashion, and new movies when you heard some folk music being played on the speakers at the bar across the road. Your feet moved in a rhythm, following a step pattern that you had been taught from folk dancers around the world. That was another thing you loved about touring: learning things from other cultures. “What are you doing?” Alessia asks, snickering as you dance along the pavement. Your sneakers tap the stone to the beat.

“Dancing. Folk dancing.” You turn to face her, dancing while moving backwards, “Come try.” Alessia smiles as you slow down the steps. She catches on fast, and soon enough you’re speeding it back to tempo. Suddenly your jacket isn’t needed as much, and you feel your face is flushed. Tying it around your waist, you see Alessia teaching Kit and Connor, and soon enough, all four of you are dancing, arms linked in a line. Andrew, Shawn, and the rest of the crew finally notice as they catch up to the four of you laughing, humming along to the song. Simon joins the line, asking, “What are we doing?”

“Having fun!” Kit screams back, whooping into the night sky. You see Shawn take a seat on one of the benches across from the five of you, him and everyone else clapping to the beat. He had a strange look on his face, and he wouldn’t break his gaze from you. Every time you laughed, you would sneak a look at him and see a tiny smile tug at his lips. It made you feel off-balance, in a way.

The song ends in no time, and you’re left with some energy spent, smoothing your messy hair down and tying a loose shoelace. A new song comes on, and you and Alessia begin twirling around the street, on your way back to the hotel. Shawn catches up to the two of you, face red from the cold. Alessia reaches out a hand, and her and Shawn begin to zoom in circles with locked arms, going fast with the momentum like a spinning top.

You remembered playing that game when you were little. You and your friends called it Twister. Alessia beckoned you over, and now the three of you became interlinked; Shawn’s cackling, leaning his head back in adrenaline as you scream to slow down. “I think that the rest of them think we’re acting like kids!” You grin, feeling your hair whip your face.

Shawn gasps out, nose and cheeks cherry red, “Who cares?”

“You’re on with Alessia in five,” a stage manager peeks into your’s and Alessia’s shared dressing room, and you nod at them, a mumble of okay in reply. You got nervous before going on stage, but it was more of the adrenaline making you unable to speak. The bright lights in the vanity in front of you shined, illuminating your face. You always did something fun with your makeup with each tour, and decided that this time, you’d do a bright color lining your eyes with some mascara. A bright blue lined your eyes this time, making them pop. Simple, but cool. The band usually had to wear darker clothes to emphasize Shawn and Alessia in front, which wasn’t a problem, so you sported some black sneakers, ripped jeans, denim jacket, and a gray tie-dyed shirt. 

You’re tapping your drumsticks against your thighs as you lightly jog down the bright hall, near the band. People are gathered around in a huddle. “There she is!” Kit says, watching as you walk to the group.

“What’re we doing?” You ask, joining the huddle. You felt like a football player.

“It’s tradition. We say a speech, and then go on stage.” Simon tells you, putting a hand on your back. Alessia’s to the right of you, and Shawn’s opposite from you, watching you. You feel strange again, only for a second. Was he watching you because he wanted to see if you wouldn’t do well tonight? That was impossible, given what he’d said to you last night.  

Alessia’s set left you feeling like you’d drank five coffees and then some more energy drinks, every nerve buzzing in your body. The crowd was wild; they knew all the words to her songs and she would occasionally run to you, singing her heart out while you returned the amazing feeling back, hearing your drums boom over the speakers. Sometimes you would see that the cameras panned on you, and you watched your flushed face, looking like you were completely in your element.

When she told the crowd to give it up for the band, Simon gave you a big thumbs up, reassurance that you were doing well. The first performance was always the hardest. The crowd’s screams roared through your ears, and they became deafening when Shawn appeared on stage, rising from the middle platform, smoke bathing him in the spotlights. You felt your stomach lurch in excitement, ready for the next two and a half hours, every single beat memorized in your fingertips. 

Shawn starts with Lost in Japan, singing beautifully. His voice sounds buttery and warm, and you wait for your queue as he pauses before the beat for dramatic effect. You come in right on time, everything syncing together, and your body’s pulsing, moving with the beat. You’re sweating, but it’s the best feeling you’ve ever felt in your entire life. A few songs pass, and Shawn begins one of his covers, walking over to Kit as they assemble back to back, shredding solos. As the interlude progresses, you see Shawn walking to you, and you swear his gaze is something you’ve never seen before. It’s euphoric, his hair and face glistening, the lights shining so bright that it makes him hard to see until he’s right in front of you, leaning over your cymbals. You flick the drumstick in a circle, catching it as you crash onto the symbols. Shawn’s looking at you, and you feel like all that exists is the two of you. It’s like you’re connected: you know that you’re both feeding each other the best kind of energy you’ve ever felt.

It wasn’t that way with Alessia. Sure, it felt awesome, but this, this guy, this guy who looks absolutely perfect in every way is putting you in a trance and suddenly you come back to your body, him giving you a wink as he makes his way back to center stage. You try to control your breathing with the beat, feeling lightheaded. Soon enough, you focus back on your drums and you pretend like nothing’s happened. But you know, deep down in your stomach, something in you has changed.

Four Months Later

“Goddamn it, I had two yellows left!” Alessia screams, huffing in frustration and flopping back onto the pillows of your bed. You laugh maniacally, falling down next to her, ignoring the scattering Uno cards all over your coverlet. “I can’t believe we’ve been on tour since March, and it’s already July,” She mutters quietly, looking up at the popcorn ceiling.

“I know. It feels like it’s been my entire life but somehow went by so fast I didn’t even notice,” You say back. The two of you just finished a show, exhausted but glad you got to rest for a bit before you left. All of you were taking the bus tonight and you know you wouldn’t sleep very much. Your sleeping habits on planes and buses had not improved one bit since March. 

“You wanna watch a movie tonight on the bus?” Alessia asks, sitting up to gather the cards. She picks one off your thigh, and you stretch your arms, your tank top making the Miami heat and humidity less miserable. Your hotel room still kept the moisture in, and if there was one thing you hated about Canada, it would be the humidity. It made you feel homesick, though, and you sigh as you feel your back stiffen.

“Yes, please, and Shawn asked if we could watch Far From Home,” You grinned at the thought of seeing MJ and Peter’s kiss on the Tower Bridge. You liked some romance if it involved Tom Holland.

Alessia groans, “How many times have you and Shawn watched Spiderman?” She snorts, “It feels endless. And you both can quote that movie word for word.”

“But you forget that we’ve watched the Andrew Garfield and Toby Maguire ones more. Now pick: confident and suave Spiderman, or cute, geeky, highschool Spiderman?”

“Cute geeky highschool Spiderman.” She responds, and all of a sudden there’s a knock at your door. Alessia gets up to answer it, but the door’s already swinging open, and Shawn struts in. He’s wearing a plain, black t-shirt and some gray sweatpants and his hair is wet from the shower. You feel a tugging in your stomach and ignore it.

He grins, “Did someone say Spiderman?” Alessia throws a pillow at him, and he falls back into the desk chair opposite the two of you, laughing.

“Unfortunately, and how did you even get in?”  She responds, sitting up on the headboard of your bed. 

“Kit stole your spare keycard so he could eat some of the German chocolate you have stashed in your backpack, and I caught him in the hallway before the show, so I came to return it now.” He gets up from the desk chair, and sits on the foot of the bed, handing it to you.

You grit your teeth, “I’m gonna kill him. I have been saving that for good reason, rationing it bit by bit. It’s not like you can get it back at home.” Alessia and Shawn respond in a chorus of giggles, looking at your angry face. “What? No one messes with my chocolate!”

It’s a few hours later, and you, Shawn and Alessia are crowded onto the long couch in the bus, letting the streetlamps and highways pass you by. Everyone else had left to go sleep, but you wanted to finish the movie and see the ending, even though you knew exactly what happened. You wore your warm, black sweatpants and the same tank top you had on before. Your hair tickled your back, but it felt good to release the tension from your scalp. You’d decided to put it up from the show tonight, an elegant, slicked back look. Shawn was off to the right of you, watching as Mysterio ‘saved’ the city from the ‘fire elemental.’ You hated him so much, feeling a little too attached to your Marvel characters. Alessia had begun to nod off, and finally was awoken when the bus hit a pothole. She groaned, “I need to sleep,” She pushed herself up off the couch, moving down the hallway into the bunks, “Goodnight, nerds.”

She always did that when you watched anything superhero-y. “Goodnight,” you and Shawn replied in unison. 

Opening your phone, you scrolled through your Instagram, seeing all your mentions of the band in concert. There was a picture of you and Kit hugging, Alessia and you running across the stage together, and you and Shawn playing through your solo. “You always do so well on that part,” Shawn says, leaning into you and looking at your phone. You felt your cheeks flare up and cursed yourself. He looked stunning in the photo, as per usual. Curly hair a mess, and his shirt stuck to his body with sweat. “I loved that outfit you wore, too, it was so cool.” He added. 

You looked at yourself and saw your lace, navy blue blouse, attached with interlacing straps, and flared black pants, paired with combat boots and your usual bracelets. Your slicked back ponytail was completed with the dangly earrings you wore. “Thanks,” you responded, “I try.” You can feel his shoulder touching yours, his knee brushing up against you. You scroll down a bit farther through the photos you’re tagged in, and see a picture of you and your dad. He posted it on your birthday. It was you and him backstage, a few years ago when you’d played your first tour. His hair and eyes were the same color as yours, and he always had a scruffy beard. You’re hugging him, and you remembered at that moment what he’d said to you. I love you, I’m so proud of the person you’ve become. Never stop doing what you love. Follow your heart, my love. 

You smiled to yourself and began to miss him so much. He was probably at home, watching his favorite show on TV, mom sitting next to him on the couch, reading a book. “Who’s that?” Shawn asked. He looked at you, and you turned your head, watching as his eyes studied you. 

“My dad. He’s the one who taught me to play the drums.” You fiddled with the bracelets on your wrist.

Shawn nods, “I’m guessing those bracelets you always wear are from him.” You looked down as he took your wrist, looking at three entangled together. 

“The first one, the one with the bird on it,” It was brown, the engraved bird, silver, “That was his. It was his good luck charm. The second he got me on my fifteenth birthday, the one that’s the silver chain.” That one had your birthstone on it in the middle, “And the last, that was given to me when I graduated high school.” It was a braided black cord, and on it a charm silvery-black that was your first initial. 

“They’re beautiful.” Shawn moves his fingers down from your arm, tracing your skin, and you shiver, “You’re beautiful.” His voice is soft, almost as if he’s scared for you to realize what he said, bottom lip quivering. His eyes never move away from you. It’s hard to see him, but the bus’s blue lights keep the room from being pitch black. You see his lips tug into a smile, and then he’s kissing you, and it’s like your body’s wired to respond to him. Kissing back, you move your fingers to the nape of his neck, twisting his hair into knots. You feel his hand settle on your waist, and he moves closer till you’re nearly on his lap. He smells like mint shampoo and his lips are soft. He teases you, licking your lip until you open your mouth, engulfing yourself in his touch.

You’re suddenly glad that you’re at the back of the bus, far from the driver and everyone sleeping. You pause for breath, looking at him. His eyes are sparkling, pupils blown out, and his lips and cheeks are flushed red. Your hair creates a curtain around your faces, and he plays with it, now that you’re settled on his lap. Feeling another wave of desire pulse through you, and you trace your fingers across his chest as he whines in response, but then you realize what’s happening, and your breath hitches, and you pull back, blood rushing to your face. “Wait, wait, we can’t do this. This isn’t right. I work with you.” You move off of him, getting up and standing.

Shawn grabs your hand, lightly. “What, no!” His voice is hushed, but still frantic, “It’s not like that. I’ve been feeling this for a while now, and every time I see you, it’s like I need you, I need you so-”

“-Shawn,” you say, and he stops, shutting his mouth and swallowing. He looks so good, and you feel your entire body wanting to go to him, but you knew it would end badly. You couldn’t have feelings. You shouldn’t. “This,” you waved your hands from you to Shawn, “We can’t do this.” 

All of a sudden, he takes your hand and puts it on his chest. “Tell me,” he says, and you feel his heart pounding, “Tell me you don’t feel anything when I do this. Tell me,” He pulls you in, putting his hand on your waist. The bus shakes, but he’s there, holding you, “You don’t feel anything when I do this.” He’s leaning over you now, mouth right next to your ear, “When you feel my hand running along your back,” you shiver, your entire body stiff, “Or when you hear me say that all I think about is you. And when you’re around me, all I want is to hold you like this, and feel your hands in my hair, and listen to your laugh, and lean on you when we watch movies, and play music with you, and-” 

You move his face from your side, and pull him in, kissing him again, and again, till you feel your lips swollen and your body pulsing, taking the feeling in one last time. Like that, it’s over, and you push away from him again, looking at his messy hair, curls strewn everywhere, and mutter, “I-I need to go to bed.” You can’t meet his eyes. His hands fall from your waist as you walk into the hallway, down to the bunks, every atom in your body protesting.

The next morning, you’re trying to busy your mind with anything you could possibly think of: memorizing the music for potential covers, reorganizing your suitcase; it was a flurry of meaningless tasks as you finally had to face soundcheck. Last night left you feeling lightheaded and warm inside, but when you thought about what was actually happening, that you had feelings for Shawn that he returned, your heart would pound and anxiety would creep into your chest. 

It wasn’t right. What if you decided to be together and then two weeks later you’ve argued and broken up and then the band doesn’t work? You’d ruin the entire tour. Or what if you felt that same pain you knew all too well?

You're tugging at the peeling skin on your lips, trying to delay soundcheck as much as possible as you round through the twisting hallways of the stadium. Humming helps you clear your head a bit, but the instant you see Shawn you know you’ll be tripping over yourself trying to get to your drums. As if heaven itself was descended upon you, Alessia and Simon are walking towards you, coming from the stage entrance. “They’re almost ready,” Simon said, his face calm.

Wondering if your face looked the same way your mind would’ve, you nodded, replying, “Alright, let’s go. Did you still want to do that solo with me, A?” You force yourself to tug a smile onto your lips. Simon patted your shoulder as he moved down the hallway, probably to get Kit to stop raiding the catering rooms for food.

Praying that the drums would muffle the world around you, Alessia replied, “Yeah, and I was thinking that maybe I could bring you to the front with me to hit the soundbox for an acoustic version, because Shawn said-”

“I kissed Shawn last night,” You blurted right before you walked through the stage door. You could see Connor, Geoff, and a few others crowding around some cameras, and your skull was pounding. Everything you felt that you questioned yourself about felt like a blow to the head. Alessia looked at you, her face unsettlingly calm. “Say something,” You pleaded.

“Was it good?”

“What? Ask me anything but that! Tell me I’m horrible, tell me this is wrong, that I’ll ruin this for everyone!” You grabbed Alessia’s arms, shaking her wildly. 

She began to smile. Smile. Why would she smile, of all things? “You guys are way more than friends, and you both know it,” Alessia assures. “You’re always teasing each other, you sit next to each other on planes and buses, and have you seen the way he looks at you on stage?” 

“What do you mean?” You asked. Alessia pulled you to the side of the doorway, Shawn walking down by Connor. 

“He looks back at you all the time on stage, and when he’s doing that solo with you, he’s facing only you on purpose. It’s like he doesn’t even remember anyone else is there.” She lovingly puts her hand on your arm, and you feel your stomach settling. “I’ve seen you on the plane, when you start to panic. He’s the only one who can calm you down, and you always make him feel better about being nervous up there.” She nods her head to the stage. “It’s only about what you want now.”

You groaned, turning your head to look at him. He was stiff all over, strumming his guitar as he sat on the edge of the stage. “I don’t know what I want. I have rules when it comes to tours. Relationships don’t end well.”

“Who’s relationship?” You jumped, turning to see Kit walk up, crumbs on his face.

You shrugged, “Oh, no one’s. I was just saying that usually band relationships don’t end well. I’ve seen one or two of ‘em.” You covered yourself, Alessia nodding. You didn’t actually know anyone who dated someone they worked with.

Kit scratches his chin, crumbs falling to the ground, “Well, my best friend’s mom ended up marrying the guy she was in a high school band with. They’re probably the happiest couple I’ve seen. Don’t ask me though,” He grinned, walking through the doorway and turning his head to face them, “I have commitment problems. See ya on stage, Sticks!”

You and Alessia rolled your eyes in unison. As he walked away from you, you looked at Shawn, who turned his head at the sound of your nickname. Alessia rubbed the small of your back, “I think he wants to talk to you,” she stated. You shook your head, ripping your eyes away from his stare. His eyes practically drowned you, his longing gaze making you feel dizzy. You were so fucked for him, and you didn’t have a clue what to do.

“Stay with me, A,” You practically whined like a five year old.

She shook her head, “I can’t do this for you,” She sounded like your mother, “If you tell him what you’re thinking, he’ll understand.”

You nodded and soon enough Alessia was gone, her laughing echoing through the arena. Shawn left his conversation, his friends’ eyes trailing after him as he approached you. He looked tired, devoid of sleep, and you felt guilt settle in the pit of your stomach. He lost sleep over you. It shouldn’t affect you, but you weren’t surprised by the same dark circles under your eyes this morning. He wore a plain white t-shirt, reasonable for the warm season, but now that you accepted your feelings for him, it was like you were seeing him differently this time. His eyes were prettier, body more graceful in the way he moved, and you could see every little detail that made him look perfect to you. “Hey,” was all he said.

His face seemed to be saying so much more, but you replied, “Hi.” God, you were so lame.

“We need to talk,” He said, fingers nearly touching yours where both your arms lay limp.

You nodded, watching his eyes shifting around your face as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle. “I know, it’s just that right now, I’m really confused, and I know that doesn’t make up for anything I did last night, but I just don’t know what I want.” You wanted to say you did, and everything in your heart that told you to kiss him right then and tell him you wanted him was chided at and locked away by your brain’s fears and doubts. You hadn’t realized that both your hands had met, and you were subconsciously running your thumb over the rings on his fingers.

Shawn was wordless, his mouth in a tight line. You watched as he inhaled, studying your intertwined hands, “I’ll wait for your answer,” He said it quietly, in the same way he had said that you were beautiful last night, unsure of what you were going to reply with. You began to open your mouth, but then someone cut you off. 

“Yo, Sticks! Where are you?” Kit called from the stage, “Where is she, man?” You could hear Simon mumble an ‘I don’t know.’

“I should probably go.” You didn’t dare to meet his eyes.

He let go of your hand, palm still outstretched. “Yeah, probably.”

The soundcheck had run by with few hiccups, Shawn asking you to adjust your amp a few times and approving of the acoustic version of one of Alessia’s songs. He all asked it politely, as if nothing happened in the last twenty-four hours. The same went for the concert: the crowd was amazing, as per usual, and that solo that you had always done with Shawn felt like nothing but pure tension. He looked at you in a way that showed he was trying to restrain himself and you doubted you looked any different.

“Did he say anything else to you after the show?” Alessia asked from your bed. You had finally gotten a hotel room together, and it was nice to have her there and to keep your mind off things. 

Wiping the pink eyeshadow and mascara lining your eyes, you muttered, “No, God, it’s like the worst feeling ever. It feels like he hates me, and he’s already so disconnected.” You threw your makeup wipe in the bathroom trash can, “He didn’t say a word, didn’t come to my dressing room like he always does. I feel like I’m losing him.” You glared at yourself in the mirror, steadying your body with two arms on the counter.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure he’s just as confused. Shawn needs some time to sort himself out, too.” You left the bathroom and joined her on the bed, groaning as you got under the covers.

“That’s the problem! He’s not confused. He knows what he wants and he told me he’d wait for my decision!” You aggressively turned to face her on your pillow.

Alessia turned herself to face you, the lamp behind her illuminating her outline, “What are you so scared of?” Her eyes were warm, and her hand ran up and down your arm.

“That I’ll ruin everything. What if we don’t work and then they’ll have to get a new band member because I messed it up?” Your eyes shifted from her to the threading of the covers.

Alessia sighed, “I know that can’t be all of it. What’re you hiding? Tell me.”

You knew the answer. It tugged at the back of your mind relentlessly. “I guess, I-I’m scared to love him. And for him to love me,” you replied, forcing yourself to accept it. You brought a hand up to your lip, tearing away at the skin. “I’ve been hurt before.”

Her mouth hinted at a smile, “Shawn would never hurt you. I know him, and I know that you’ve told me a little about your relationships, and you don’t need to tell me about them if you don’t want to.”

“I love you, A.” Your eyes began to flutter closed, the day’s exhaustion creeping up on you.

She shook you, making your eyes pop open, “I love you too. Now get out of my bed, you move around too much when you sleep.”

You had arrived home for two days, the tour coming to a stall for Shawn’s birthday. He had invited you to the party, and it had been the first time he’d spoken to you outside of a group for a few days. Now that you were safely home, you unsurely said that you would come, it being that you only lived twenty minutes away from him (you seriously wondered how you’d never played for him before). 

Arriving home felt strange. It was too quiet. When you’d set your keys down, everything was silent save for the storm raging outside. Toronto was refusing to be sunny for the time being. There weren’t any of Kit’s jokes causing everyone to laugh hysterically or scold him, none of Simon’s practicing sounding through the room, Alessia’s humming and drumming on any surface she could find, and especially none of Shawn’s laughter. Even when it was awkward between you two, you could always hear it, warm and broad coming from the back of the bus, or in a practice room. 

You had started to long for a pet, but you never wanted them to have to deal with your life of traveling. It might as well have belonged to your parents.

The first thing you did was raid the fridge for any food, and since you were gone for nearly five months, all you could see were bottles of ketchup and coffee creamer (which had definitely gone bad). Groaning, you pushed yourself away from the kitchen and grabbed your shoes from the front door, putting them on to walk down the block to your favorite pizza place. 

The healthiness of tour always gave you terrible cravings for junk food, and you basked in the glory of eating it twenty-five minutes later and laying on your couch in a food coma. A show you watched three times already played in the background, familiar voices and dialogue comforting you.

Your parents were enjoying their retirement, and were off exploring the Mediterranean, so no one familiar to your life before tour had been available. It was hard to make friends when you were gone for most of the year, but you still had a few, all of which were busy the same weekend you were home.

Everything felt terrible.

It was like you were crashing from a months-long high, unsettled by old surroundings and the quiet. So, you did what you always did when you felt lonely, tired, and overall miserable. Slowly, you got up from the couch and moved to your room, opening the drawer on the right side of your desk. You grabbed your notebook, a faded gray color with your first initial embroidered on the top right side. Taking a pen from your desk, you began to write incoherent sentences, different thoughts strung together in a way that didn’t make sense. It was strange to be back at your desk. Oftentimes, you wrote there whenever you were home from tours. It felt nostalgic to you. As your mind began to focus on one subject, you wrote pages and pages, completely unaware of time passing you.

The night in the bus kept replaying in your head, and Alessia’s words to you, and Shawn’s face looking at you onstage. It was like all you could think of was him. Every time you tried to change the subject you wrote about, it rooted back to him. Frustrated, you squinted your eyes and rubbed them. It was dark in your room. You hadn’t even noticed that three hours had passed. 

A forceful sigh left your lips. You got up from the chair, legs stiff and your head pounding. Moving to the bathroom connected to your room, you stepped into the shower, making the water scalding hot until it felt like your back was being burned. 

You sat and curled your knees to your body, crouching down to the floor of the shower, head hung in between your legs. Your hair blocked all light from entering, and it was like you were sucked into a trance of the endless beating of water on your back. All that was left was the steady rhythm of your breath. None of the day’s -correction- month’s stresses came to mind, and for once, your head was clear.

Shawn’s condo was really nice. It was spacious and open, with modern accents here and there in every room. You liked more of a cozy vibe, but each space still looked pleasing to the eye. There were too many people to count: some familiar faces and most unfamiliar. Bodies clashed together, music blasting, and some people chatted in corners with drinks in their hands. Not one for drinking all too much, you spotted a cooler that had soda in it near the door to the balcony. Popping the can open, you looked out the glass door. From there you could see the skyline, stars twinkling in the familiar pattern you had memorized long ago.

Your eyes scanned the room for Alessia. She didn’t text you yet, which means she was probably caught in traffic. Being completely honest with yourself, you questioned why you even came to the party in the first place. It wasn’t cool for Shawn to see your face and you to blow him off again. You knew you shouldn’t string him along, but something beckoned you in the back of your mind that told you you should stay.

It seemed like every two seconds you bumped into someone as you arrived at the edge of the balcony, a glass fence keeping you from tripping over the edge. There were laughs and screams and singing, and bass reverberated through the floor, rattling in your feet. Your stomach clenched as you drank the sweet soda; it did not agree with your already nervous stomach. Setting it down on the ground, you returned to looking at the skyline, not bothering to search for anyone you knew. 

“You made it.”

Looking at him just made your chest hurt even more. He was tipsy, you could tell from his blush and glazed-over eyes. Swallowing, you said softly, “Yeah.”

“Uh, d-you like the party?” His hair flopped in curls around his forehead as he gestured around himself. 

You nodded, “Mm, yeah. It’s great.” You cleared your throat, an awkward pause ensuing.

 “You know what? Okay, I’m just gonna tell you what’s on my mind because I’m a shitty person and a terrible bandmate and a whatever-other-adjective that connotes horrible friend,” Shawn stared at you, confused by your sudden flurry of words. “Continue?” You asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He gripped his drink in one hand and the other settled onto the ledge of the fence. 

“Alright. So, I shouldn’t have let you kiss me on the bus.” Shawn opened his mouth, then closed it as you stared him down, “That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to. Like, really bad. It’s just that I told myself after I dated a band member a long time ago that I would never do it again because it was the worst heartbreak of my life. And I can’t really talk about it right now.

“But then you were so nice to me and one of the best friends I’ve ever had and I hated ignoring you and avoiding you and doing all those things to keep myself from falling in love with you-” Your breath hitched as you realized what you just said. It didn’t imply you were falling in love with him, though. Shawn’s jaw clenched, but you further explained, “And you helped me on planes, and let me dump all my stresses onto you in the five months that we’ve known each other, and I feel like we can tell each other everything!

“And I’ve been writing songs! God, that’s one thing I’ve really done in my life. But it’s the only way to settle my thoughts and it keeps me from going insane. Because you, you make me go insane, Shawn.” You let out a deep breath, scared to see his face. 

He was smiling, and it felt like you were on that stage with him again, or in the bus with him, watching Spider-Man while everyone groaned that it was the tenth time you did, or listening to music on the plane, or sharing a chocolate chip cookie that you had snuck onto the bus without Kit seeing. It was like the five months you had shared together had been encapsulated into one look on his face.

Suddenly, Shawn grabbed your hand, “Come with me, right now.” He pulled you through crowds of people, and you wondered where he could possibly be taking you. A tug gripped your stomach, unwilling to stop, your blood pumping to your ears. You didn’t know where the hallways of his place led to. Finally, he went through the kitchen and to the hallway, down to the last door in the dark space. His hand was warm in your cold one, chapped knuckles being smoothed down by his touch. He smelled like alcohol and the outside but you didn’t mind. 

When he opened the door it was still dark, but as he shut it, he turned on the light inside, and you were mesmerized by his own tiny studio. A grand piano sat in the corner with mics hooked up next to it, and guitars lined the walls. A set of drums was close to you in the left corner. A desk on the right side held a computer and a soundboard. On a little wooden extension next to the desk lay a pile of notebooks, and Shawn led you to them, standing close to you as he handed you the second one under the pile of three. It was brown, with frayed edges and yellow pages on the inside. “Open to where the bookmark is,” He instructed. You pulled it out, it being the same color as the journal.

There, on the page was a messy script, cursive and so recognizable to you. You could read it, even through the rough erase marks and crossing outs on the page. Slowly, you started to read what the words said, formed into a song.

she’s here with me, and it’s like i can’t move

she’s next to me, and it’s like i can’t speak

she takes my hand, and i’ve awoken

but then when she leaves i feel broken

and i love the way she talks

and hate the way that she doesn’t want me to hear it

avoiding me and i have no idea why

because i just want to love her more than any other guy

drowning, drowning in everything she does

drowning, reaching just for her touch

and if she says one word

i’ll be breathing again

i’ll be breathing again

but without her, i question if i’ll feel this way about someone else again, and i know i can’t

“There’s a lot more,” Shawn said, and he was behind you now, watching you read his words from your shoulder. “You don’t have to read it all, though.”

You turned to him, inches away, his nose level with your eyes. “Why would you write this about me?” You set the book down on the table, looking back up from your shoes.

“Because,” He said, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I’m in love with you. We’re not even anything, and here I am, telling you that I can’t stop writing about you either because I’m in love with you, and I feel like I have since that first night of tour.” 

You were so close at this point, you could feel his breath when he sighed, moving his hands to your waist, unsure of his touch as they faltered along the hem of your jeans. It was like staring at him for eternity, looking into his amber eyes and feeling the hair on the nape of his neck. “Shawn, you’re not saying this all ‘cause you’ve drank, right?”

He laughed, surprised, “No, I’ve felt this forever. I think this was the catalyst, though,” He leaned his forehead against yours and shut his eyes. His eyelashes curled perfectly against his flushed face, dark brown on pink.

“Okay, good, because I think I want this.”

“You think?”

You nodded, “I know I do.” 

That was enough for him to tighten his hold around you, pulling you in for a sweet, slow kiss. He tasted bitter, beer on his lips, but all you were focused on was the fact that he was here with you. He was here with you, and a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and suddenly you weren’t so afraid anymore. You weren’t scared that he would break your heart. Because if he did, it would be mutual, in the most sadistic way of thinking of it. But you didn’t concern yourself with those thoughts for any longer as he parted from you, lips swollen already.

“Shawn?” You said again.

“Yeah?” He repeated.

“Happy birthday.”

“Shawn!” You giggled as he pushed you into his hotel room, shutting the door behind him. His face was flushed, yours too as he kept one arm hooked around his waist, kissing a line up your neck to your lips, “Shawn, hey, we can’t do this right now, we have to go to dinner!” Another chorus of giggles followed as he began to kiss a spot that made you ticklish. You had gone back on the road and a few days had passed since Shawn’s birthday.

“Dinner can wait,” He said, his lips on your skin muffling his voice. He had changed into some sweats and a black hoodie quickly after the concert, but his hair still smelled salty from the show. You, on the other hand, hadn’t even changed. Your jacket and black boots were thrown on the floor, but you still wore the dark green tank top you had on and black flannel pants. 

Shawn began to pull your ponytail loose, letting your hair cascade around you, and he brought his eyes to yours, moving you to the wall. “When will we tell them?” You asked Shawn, his pupils blown so much you could barely see his irises. The pause let you push a curl back off his forehead, your hand settling on his neck.

“I dunno, when do you feel like it?” He asked, “Because I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Let’s not take it too fast. Maybe another week?” You questioned, and he settled his hand on your waist, another on the wall behind you.

Shawn sighed, moving his mouth to your ear, whispering, “So we’re gonna sneak around? It’ll be our secret?” His breath was hot on your neck. You shivered.

“If you want it to be.”

“How exciting,” You could practically hear him smirk as he settled his lips back onto yours hotly. He groaned and you pushed him closer to you, almost tearing at his curls. Your face was burning now, and you could feel him push up against you painfully. In protest, he moved his face away from yours.

Your senses came back to you, overstimulated, “I should shower.”

Shawn nodded, “Okay. Let’s go.” 

You rolled your eyes, moving your hand to his, “A little too eager, huh?”

He didn’t answer you and just wrapped his arm around the small of your back, bringing you to the wall adjacent to the bathroom, settling himself between your legs. You got lost in him, consumed by the salty scent and mint shampoo and the burning tongues and icy touches on your skin. 

You heard the lock on his door begin to beep, and you jumped, his hand covering your mouth. It would’ve been attractive to you if you hadn’t considered the situation. “Hey!” Kit called from outside. “Can I come in?” The door began to crack open, and Shawn stretched his other hand to it, shutting it while one stayed on your lips.

“Um, no, I-I’m naked!” He replied, and your eyes widened at what he just implied.

“Oh, um, sorry man, didn’t mean to interrupt your momen-”

Shawn shook his head, ears turning pink, “Not like that! I’m gonna go into the shower!” His words came out of his mouth all at once, panicked. 

Kit nervously laughed, “Ohh! Alright, well, we’re leaving for dinner in ten.”

“M’kay,” His hand moved off your mouth, and you pushed yourself off the wall, “I’ll be down soon.”

“Alright, I’ll go tell Sticks,” You could hear his footsteps sounding down the hall. 

Your eyes widened, and you frantically thought of how you were gonna get there in time. You’d just go up the stairs, but it had to be fast. Shawn turned to you, “We’re not done with this,” He grinned, “‘Kay?”

You nodded, “I’ll make it up to you, promise,” and you felt a smile tug at your lips as you pecked his lips, grabbing your jacket and boots off the floor. You heard him laugh as you ran out the door in your socks, close to the stairway. Before you opened the door to the stairway, you saw him peeking his head out of his room.

“Fuck off.” You chuckled.

“What? I like looking at your backside.”

You rolled your eyes, flipping him off as you started to run up the stairway.

“You and Shawn seem good,” Alessia called from above you. You were in your bunk below her, a sleeping Simon and Kit opposite you. Both of you didn’t sleep well on the bus and often ended up talking. Shawn was in the back in his room, probably waiting for him to text you.

You moved on your back so you could see her peeking head in the blue-lighted darkness. “Yeah, um, we’ve settled our feelings.” You weren’t sure if you should tell her, even though you knew she wouldn’t say a word to anyone else.

“‘Settled your feelings?’ Is that a codeword for something?” You could hear her shift on her side and watched as she propped her head up on her hand.

Your breath hitched, but you fought against the tension in your chest. Fear. “Keep it to yourself for the time being, A, but we’re yes, we’re together.” 

“Yes! Ooh, how sneaky, keeping it a secret!” She sounded exactly like Shawn.

“It’s not like that, we just don’t want to cause drama, but we’ll probably tell everyone soon. We wanted one week at least.” You put your arms behind your head, covering yourself with your blanket. 

“To not tell anyone?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

It was silent, but Alessia broke it, “I’ve never seen him happier. You’re good for him, and he’s good for you.” 

“How is he good for me?” You ask, curious. Your phone buzzed at that moment, and you grabbed it, reading the message. Can you come here please? It was from Shawn.

“You calm each other. You think the same way and know how to comfort whatever you’re stressing about, I mean, I saw it before you were together. I just got the feeling it was more than that now. And when you talk about anything creative it’s like no one’s around.” She responded. You began to smile, and tore the sheets off your bed. “Where are you going?” You could see her face now, her hair tied back and a big sweater covering her.

“I’ll be back,” you stated, and she just wiggled her eyebrows at you. “What?”

She laughed softly, “Don’t come back too soon.”

“Shut up.” You replied, unable to keep the grin off your face. Tiptoeing down the bus hallway, you made it to the back where Shawn was. His room wasn’t big, and mostly was just a bed with a tiny space to walk next to. Opening the door, you walked in, the room only illuminated by the passing streetlights. They flashed yellow, so you could occasionally see Shawn’s form laying in the bed, back to you.

Moving to him, you carefully edged your way to the side, scared to fall from the moving bus. “Hi,” You said, and he turned around, eyes opening. They looked worried, and continued to as he moved to the wall next to the bed, letting you crawl in beside him. 

You propped your head on the pillow, staring at his face, illuminated yellow every few seconds. His eyes and messy hair glittered with the lights, but soon you hit a stretch of darkness from your surroundings outside. “Hey,” He replied as you felt his leg wrap around yours.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. You moved your hand to the halo of curls around his head, smoothing them back. He shut his eyes, breathing softly out of his mouth.

“I’m scared,” He said, “I feel like a fraud sometimes. Like I’m not good enough to have the life I have, and I feel like I can’t breathe when I think about it too hard.” You could see his eyes watering and see the restraint he held when trying not to cry. 

You shook your head, “I’ve felt that way too many times to count. I believe that you’re here, on this earth, for a reason. If you weren’t good enough to have the life you have, you wouldn’t bring so much joy to the people who love you and look up to you,” You calmly moved your hand to his cheek, wiping the tear pooled at his eye, “Whenever you feel that anxiety come in, take a deep breath and say, ‘I’m here for a reason. I matter.’”

He repeated after you, “I’m here for a reason. I matter.” You nodded, pulling him close to you and letting his head lie in the crook of your neck. You ran circles along his back, feeling him clutch onto your waist. “Where did you learn how to do that?” He asked, voice muffled.

A tug came to your lips, “My dad said the same thing to me when I had my shows.”

“He sounds amazing,” He whispered, “I want to meet him. Your mom, too.”

You chuckled softly, “Give it a few more weeks, rock star.”

He kissed your shoulder, bodies intertwined. Eventually, his breathing slowed and became more even, and you heard Alessia’s voice in your head; You calm each other. Somehow you got the feeling that no matter what happened you would always be there for him, and he would always be there for you. With those thoughts, your mind settled and you felt the warmth of sleep take you in gently.

Two Months Later

Everyone on tour knew about you and Shawn now, and nobody ever protested it. They all were happy for you both. Life had become easier as you adjusted your already similar schedules: waking up next to him was a dream, though the two of you hadn’t taken things farther than that. It never came up now that you were moving across countries and continents each day, exhausted and sleeping as soon as you got in the hotel room. 

Alessia was gone, and it felt not completely whole on tour without her. You totally loved Dan and Shay, but the two of you created such a bond that you often found yourself turning to your side to tell her something or laugh with her when she wasn’t even there. Missy had come, making Shawn’s life much easier with her incredible organization skills.

Today was going to be a fantastic day, you thought to yourself as you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was Halloween, and you didn’t think there was another better celebration than having a Halloween show in Melbourne. The fans in the Oceania part of the tour were like something out of a movie. The crowd felt unreal there.

Pulling the towel from your head, your hair fell down around your shoulders. Tonight everyone was going in costume, wearing 80s clothes, and you were delighted. The frantic colors and patterns were fun to wear, so you already began to change into your mom jeans, multi-colored striped top, and yellow bomber jacket. 

In less than twenty minutes, your hair was away from your face, in a crimped ponytail with a scrunchie and you wore yellow eyeshadow that rimmed your eyes with heavy mascara. Halloween was so exciting to you, and you honestly missed getting dressed up.

“You ready, love?” You could hear Shawn open the door to your room, and he walked into the bathroom, grinning when he saw your face. “I love it. You look totally rad! That’s what they said, right? Rad?”

You laughed, watching him at the door in the reflection of the mirror. He wore a multi-colored bomber jacket and some cargo pants with a neon headband, and he looked so happy. His lips were rosy, and you replied, “I’m pretty sure, don’t ask me though, I’m not that old.”

“You’re older than me.” He added.

You stuck your tongue out at him, “By one year.” You began to put your makeup brushes away, and paused, “Do you want to wear some eyeliner? It might look cool.” You held the black pen in front of your face.

“Sure, let’s try it,” He moved to the counter and stood in front of the sink, facing you. You held his chin in one palm while your steady hand brushed along the rim of his eye. “It feels weird,” he said in discomfort.

“You get used to it.” 

“You look so concentrated, it’s really cute.” He moved away from the eyeliner as you finished, setting it down on the counter. Snaking his arms around you, you settled your head against his sternum, feeling the solid-ness of him. “Let’s get going before Missy accuses us of ‘fooling around.’”

You felt a smile tug at your lips. “That woman talks like an old lady, I swear.”

He let go of you, “Don’t tell her that.”

Shawn’s leg kicks during Jesse’s Girl were absolutely adorable, you thought as the concert wrapped up. You, Kit, and Simon had thought up a dramatic introduction for him to come out of the stage on and it fit really well with the performance. 

Several hours later, you were on the plane, moving to the tour’s next location. Your flight anxiety was worse this time around, bad turbulence making you nauseous. Shawn had pressed your palms into his and rubbed your neck soothingly for what seemed like forever, and it wasn’t until the last two hours of the flight that he fell asleep. You felt bad for keeping him awake, but welcomed his sleepy head on your shoulder and the arm that fell across from you gladly. 

With your free arm (his arm kept your left one pinned down) you wrote some lyrics down in a notebook Alessia had given you on her last day of tour. It was a simple, black leather bound notebook, with yellow-ish lined pages. All you could write about were the same few themes: a feeling of falling, and then getting pulled back into someone’s grasp, or feeling so happy you were unsure it would last, lastly your main theme, of course; so many of the lyrics had been for the boy sleeping on you at the exact same time. Alessia told you to write down those feelings and keep them recorded so that one day you could look back on them, and smile at what you’d done and accomplished in your life.

Shawn had begun to stir from his sleep, mumbling incoherent words as he gripped the blanket on the both of you. You moved your hand, running it along his scalp calmly, “I love you,” you said, surprising yourself with what you just whispered to him. You had kept it in for so many months, terrified of coming to terms with it. Your lips trembled, scared to see his facial expression. 

His face was still unmoving with sleep, and you felt a breath come out of you. He didn’t hear you. But was that what you wanted? For him not to know how much you loved him?

December

Your apartment looked much less lonely now that Christmas decor had been almost bombarded on every surface; there were twinkly lights across your windows and on your kitchen counters, holiday pillows swapped for regular ones, and a white, red, and gold tree shining next to your couch. The cold time of year always made you the happiest, and you felt this elation course through your body almost every day.

A soft blanket and a mug of coffee kept you warm while you watched old cartoons on your tv, feeling nostalgic. Shawn was cooking in the kitchen while you rested. Lately, it seemed like the two of you barely spent a day apart, and it was hard for you to get anything done around him when all you wanted to do was be next to him. That’s what the holidays were for, you reminded yourself. It was easy to get swept up in a world of productivity. 

A smell of something savory wafted into the living area, and you turned your head away from the television to look at your boyfriend. He domestically had a rag on his shoulder while the sizzle of something sauteing in a pan and the chopping of a knife made you ask, “What’re you making?”

“It’s a secret,” You could see him grin as he moved to the fridge.

“You didn’t need to make anything,” You added.

He shrugged, turning his head to you, “I wanted to have a nice dinner with you tonight, and plus, you said we could watch Harry Potter, so this is my thank you.” You giggled, turning back to the screen to watch Charlie Brown having a snowball fight with his dog.

In a half-hour, plates were set on your seasonally-decorated dining table, and glasses of wine were filled for the two of you. Putting the utensils down next to each of your plates, Shawn sauntered up to the table and dramatically set down the serving plate, steaming with food. “Roasted chicken, sauteed with onions and vegetables,” Shawn grinned, looking at you expectantly as if he were on a cooking competition show. “Dessert is also a surprise.”

It tasted delicious; he really knew his way around the kitchen. Shawn blushed every single time you complemented the food, quite adorably, and soon enough the both of you had changed the subject to the Harry Potter movie you were going to watch.

“Okay, but the third is such a classic! It has the Marauders stuff happening and Lupin and it’s my favorite!” Shawn argued while the two of you gathered up your plates, walking to the sink. 

You shrugged, “Yes, but the fourth has the Triwizard Tournament, and we can’t forget about Cedric Diggory!”

Shawn snorted, “That’s because you have a weird obsession with Robert Pattinson, and you know it!” You laughed along with Shawn, unable to make a retort because you knew he was completely correct.

You gave in, opening the dishwasher, “Alright, alright, but we’re watching the fourth one soon.”

“M’kay, Bella Swan.”

You scoffed, slapping him with a dishrag, “How dare you compare me to her! She has the personality of a piece of paper!” He doesn’t reply, and just watches as you try to hide your giggles. There’s a strange silence and you can almost hear the ambience of the holidays in your ears.

Shaking his head, Shawn blurts, “I love you,” he said affectionately, almost as if he didn’t hear it, continuing to wash off the plates. He pauses, looking at you and coming to his senses, realizing what he said.

He hadn’t said it since his birthday. You hadn’t said it at all, save for that night on the plane, but he wasn’t even awake. But somehow you felt an overwhelming feeling come over you, and on instinct you replied, “I love you too.” 

Shawn takes his hands away from the sink. “You do?” His face looks vulnerable, and a hand reaches out to stabilize himself on the counter. All you can do is nod. “Yeah?” He questions again, and you set your rag down on the counter, taking his face in your palms and kissing him as passionately as you can.

The two of you part, “Yeah, I do. ‘Guess I was too scared to say it ‘till now.” You reply as his arms loop around your waist.

“Why would you be scared?” He brings your body closer to him.

“When I love people, I’m scared of losing them,” You mutter under your breath, but he heard you anyway. 

He pushes a piece of hair behind your ear, “You’re never going to lose me,” His eyes darken, almost looking pained as he brings his lips to yours again, and you get lost in the taste of him, the smell of him. You can feel his arms slide from your waist to your thighs, and he hikes you up onto the counter. Your fingers rake across his scalp, feeling the heat coming off of his neck, coursing through his body. “I promise.” He says, a pause between kissing you.

The smell of cinnamon and linen welcomes you as he carries you into your bedroom, the curtains shut and the city lights streaming through the bedroom. There’s a lamp on your bedside table, emanating a warm glow. You feel his frame crawl over you, and it’s like the two of you are in a movie. Perfect, cold-weathered lighting, the smell of Christmas, and the hot-and-cold prickly feeling that comes when you pull off your sweater. His face is flushed, rosy cheeks and lashes feathering his cheekbones. He looks at you carefully, almost lost in thought.

You bring your face to his, meticulously playing at the seams of his shirt, kissing him slowly and softly. You can hear a soft moan come from his lips, setting you on your back as he touches what seems like every nerve in your body. “I love you.” He repeats for what seems like forever, almost like he wants you to believe it absolutely. 

And you want him to believe it, too, trading the same three words over and over again until you fall asleep holding each other. Strangely, when sleep comes and you’re in your dreams, an old Greek myth that your father told you comes to mind. When pairs of people were one, they didn’t need any other person. They were attached to each other. But when Zeus, King of the Gods separated them, those people, the human race, spent their entire lives looking for their other half. They needed to be with each other so they could be complete. 

When you wake up for a moment, lost in the thought of the myth, you look up and see Shawn, curly hair messy and his head in the crook of your neck. You think of the pairs, needing each other to survive. He never lets go.