#hence why he's depressed in that image | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tonicandjins · 1 year

Text

find your way back home | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck | haechan x female reader

word count: 22.5k

genre: fluff, some mentions of sex, ANGST and nostalgia lots of it, haechan-centric, slow burn

warnings: mentions of sex, excessive drinking, will talk about insomnia and depression

summary: nct’s haechan gets into a scandal after a night of drinking his ass off in hongdae, which prompts the management to put him in an indefinite hiatus. and it’s not like it’s the first time, because over the past months, haechan’s drinking problem had gone worse. hence, his parents send him back to jeju island for some healing time because his parents and managers think that maybe some time home would help. haechan laughs at the thought. if medication can’t, what can jeju island do? besides, he hasn’t been there in literal years.

author's note: this is my favorite work so far, which is why it took this long. i put my heart in here. please let me know which one is your favorite line/scene. this is also very heachan-centric, so please don't expect a lot of the reader's POV. also, may i recommend you to listen to Moon, Be There For You, Never Goodbye by NCT DREAM, Good Person by Haechan himself, and Black Clouds by NCT 127 as you read this! :) TIP ME HERE.

taglist: @mosviqu @matchahyuck @sirens-dreams @sundamariis @lovingvoidgoatee @anjaenha @thiccfullsun @665321-more @hyuckiesoftie @aliceinwhateverland @tddyhyck @anniebyanto @novawona @gimmehyuck @blxshqueen @blitz-fall @byungbyungbaek @calssunflower @funkygoose @carelessshootanonymous-blog @jungwooforever @budibbly @positionslab @beomyomom @jexizia @4everhyucks

disclaimer: names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. i do not claim to own or to have invented any copyrighted characters or concepts that i write about.

Y/N = your name, Y/C/N = your childhood nickname

Haechan’s dream has always been the spotlight.

His Mother would tell her friends stories of how he would always tell her he’d be a star someday, a grin flashing across his small face on pictures and clips of him taking a stage as small as the podium in his first grade classroom, and would proudly brag that his first-born son made it to the world stage. She was so proud that she’d have his portfolio picture as her display image in her social media accounts. As a musician herself, she’d play NCT’s music out loud and would even go an extra mile by using their b-side songs when teaching their students at their small but proud music academy in the big city of Seoul. Haechan’s pictures are all over the small place they’d rented for their small business, two floors—the vocal lessons facilitated on the second floor and piano and guitar on the ground floor—and the humble husband and wife would proudly say the most successful student they’d ever had was Lee Donghyuck, now better known as Haechan.

Haechan allows her to take credit of it all, his success, because after all, she’d been the one to encourage her to take a chance at SM Entertainment’s infamous Saturday auditions. People tell Haechan he works hard, but nobody really works harder than his Mother. With sheer determination and a passionate heart, his mother would take little Donghyuck to every stage—no matter how small. Young and bright, he remembers being dragged from one contest to another, even when their family still lived in Jeju, and he’d win all of them for her. He’d take the spotlight just to see her happy and proud.

At times, Haechan wonders how much effort his mother had really put into his career. If he thinks about it now, it started with their entire family moving out of Jeju Island, completely uprooting their entire lives from the simple life in the island to give her dream a chance. People say that Haechan was born a star, that SM got lucky to have a child prodigy offer himself—bare and whole and real—who was willing to give up his childhood and education for a shot in the dark. His father had been reluctant about it, saying that they’d have to give up their entire life savings to merely move to Seoul—considering plane tickets and security deposits need to be sent prior to moving—and that taking a loan wouldn’t be ideal when they could barely make ends meet with four children growing up too fast. A shot in the dark, a flip of a coin, the luck of a draw. They say he was meant for this, was meant for the stage and the lights and the applause, but to Haechan, it’s not really fate. It’s just his mother doing all the work, and he’d take the spotlight for her.

Because Haechan likes the attention. He likes the good and the bad. The cheers and the applause. The painful arm slaps from Mark when he’s annoyed him enough. The head pats and hugs Taeil gives him when he’s being cute and when he lives up to his maknae image. The viral videos of him all over the internet for simply walking down the stage.

And his mother couldn’t be prouder to have a reliable son like him. She had always dreamed of the spotlight herself, but the timing was never right for her—hence Haechan living her dream, her spotlight, had been one of, if not the biggest accomplishments of her life.

The night is cold. Haechan feels dizzy when flashes of the lights coming from the small window of the bar’s building hit his face. He hates the lights, he hates being seen, and it makes him throw up when, as soon as he closes his eyes, it’s his mother that he sees.

Would his mother still be so proud when she learns that, after a long weekend of a back to back concert with NCT 127, his son would be getting a blowjob from a stranger at the back of some sleazy bar he had found online?

“Please tell me this isn’t real.”

Mark Lee is only twenty-three, but with how his forehead’s skin is wrinkling, he might as well invest in several sessions of botox shots. He’s holding his phone up to Haechan’s face, as if bringing the device closer to the younger’s eyes would deny the article that Dispatch uploaded at five in the fucking morning.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Haechan denies, voice bored, tired. “We might have done other things, but I didn’t sleep with her.”

Mark lets out a groan of frustration, throwing his phone behind Haechan, the device landing on the carpeted floor. Haechan doesn’t even flinch even though it almost hit him.

“Haechan, what the fuck is going on, man?” Mark asks, demands to know what really is going on with his best friend, or whoever he’s speaking with now. “You know SM is going to kill you, right?”

Haechan shrugs. “What are they gonna do? Fire me?”

“You know they can!” Mark shouts, walking back and forth while Haechan remains seated on the couch, unbothered. “You’ve seen them do it! To our seniors! To the people you trained with. You think you’re big time, huh? That just because you’re essential in both units, they wouldn’t send you to some dungeon?”

Haechan laughs bitterly. He reckons being placed in a dungeon would be much better than the hell he’s living in now. “Now that,” he mocks. “Would be the ultimate dream.”

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” Mark says, pointing a finger to Haechan, enunciating each syllable so it goes through his skull.

But nothing can really make Lee Haechan budge anymore—not an expensive, hard device laterally thrown to his face, and not even his best friend (if he could still call him that) blatantly showing how disgusted he is with him—and he can’t really blame anyone. It used to he frightening to see Mark angry at something he did. Used to.

Haechan doesn’t really know what to say, so he chuckles bitterly and leans his head back so that it’s against the backrest, pondering whether it’s a good time to drink the bottle of vodka he’s been keeping under his bed.

“It’s funny because I don’t even know what having a nightmare feels like.”

Mark huffs, seemingly had given up on Haechan, then leaves the room alongside the small piece of sanity that the younger had left. Haechan bolts, sitting up real quick, but too slow because Mark is already out of the door. Haechan likes attention, and even though Mark Lee makes his head hurt, he likes the attention. Haechan likes that Mark is angry at him.

His manager calls him next, (as expected) voice angry as if he’s about to explode, and tells him his publicist is doing her very best to answer every god damn call from every magazine and news outlet. But none of those magazine and news outlets who have called had posted something to clear the situation; none of them were buying it. Haechan thinks it’s fucking ridiculous anyway. There were pictures and videos of him sneaking out with Hana or Hari, whatever her name was, and a clip of him zipping his pants up as they try to hide from the flashes of lights. Who the fuck would believe he was just out exploring with his 35-year old, happily-married-with-kids personal assistant?

And it’s too late, anyway, because what was the point of it all when his most loyal and long-time fan sites have all shut down overnight, his Instagram followers reducing down to five million in a matter of hours since Dispatch posted that article, and his best friends blatantly ignoring him with the exception of Mark confronting him, but of course, Haechan had to screw that up, too.

“They’re calling you in for a meeting,” his manager concludes with a sigh after elaborating what had been done to patch up the entire mess. “Be ready for whatever they have to say. Don’t expect me to have your back because I’m over it, Haechan. Whatever they decide to do with you, you fucking deserve it.”

The call ends. Haechan didn’t even get to talk.

He looks at the screen of his phone. There were a million of calls and text messages from his agency, half of it were from his mother, and the last thing he really wants now is to hear her voice. He scrolls through it all, chest tightening when he realizes nobody from Jaemin, Renjun and Jeno had tried to call him. Haechan knows he’s an asshole, deserving to be the receiving end of all the shouting and cussing, and he’s probably made the dumbest mistake of his entire life, but he’d live the stardom’s life long enough, he’d be okay. But a call from his best friends would have been a breather.

Haechan understands, what his manager said, that he shouldn’t really expect anyone to have his back after all that’s transpired in the last few of months.

You see, Haechan developed insomnia. He’d look the symptoms up in the internet, and it’s described as a common sleeping disorder that can make it hard for people to fall asleep, or if one’s attempt to drift off is successful, to stay asleep. Taeyong had said it’s a common disorder for idols, that their seniors from groups like EXO and SHINEE had all gone to psychologists for help, but Haechan didn’t really want to make a big deal out of it. He relied on what Naver offered him one morning when the sun’s already out and his eyes are still wide open.

Stress and anxiety were the major causes. Some resources say it could be from a poor sleeping environment such as an uncomfortable bed or bad lighting or temperature. One claims that it could also be from one’s lifestyle, like jetlag from traveling frequently, or drinking one too many caffeine-infused doses of fluids. It all could be factors why Haechan’s been getting 8-10 hours of sleep a week, and he acknowledges that he doesn’t really have the best lifestyle—and it’s not like he’s ever had the choice since NCT blew up.

So, he’d consulted Taeyong again, through a text, and all he’d gotten was a link to a study that insomnia can be caused by mental health conditions such as depression, followed by his therapist’s phone number.

Among all the causes he’d gathered, Haechan could confidently rule out depression because there’s no fucking way he’s sad. There’s barely any reason to be sad. Sure, he’d miss his siblings most of the time and he hates the feeling of seeing any of them cry whenever he had to leave, but nothing is more gratifying than the relief of seeing them happy whenever he comes home with luxurious gifts or plane tickets to Tokyo for a vacation. Haechan likes making people happy, and Mark tells him he’s always been a people pleaser. At times, he’d think his happiness depends on the happiness of the people he loves and values, and people around him are happy.

Hence, Haechan is happy.

Or at least, was happy.

Because the insomnia got worse—not that Haechan’s dealt with it enough to know whether it’s getting better or worse—but it was bad. He would come home exhausted as fuck after an entire day of dancing and singing, and he knows he’s tired because his body tells him so. Haechan would lie on bed, body drained from all energy, but his eyes would be wide open for an entire night. He’d only fall asleep when the sun’s started to seep through his curtains, a good hour before his manager would wake him for the next schedule. It was manageable, and the tour was a good excuse for the insomnia, but it followed him even on his days off, even in the beginning of the pandemic when there little to zero schedules that would have caused him anxiety or stress.

Therefore, reluctantly, he’d visited a doctor to get a prescription for some meds he could take to help him sleep. He’d lied, though, that it wasn’t that bad and that he would need it only on nights after shows, because he knew they’d only refer him to a therapist. Haechan doesn’t need a therapist. He could just talk to his mother about it, and she’d know what to say to make him feel better. To make him keep going.

It was fine until the melatonin supplements stopped working. Sometime last year, if he remembers right, when he thought he’d gone crazy because everything stopped working for him. There was a bottle of soju, half empty, from the fridge he had in the corner of the room he shared with Johnny, and he reckoned it could help. As soon as the bottle was empty, Haechan felt drowsy; he was out like the light half an hour later.

But just like the prescription from the doctor he can’t even remember the name of, drinking half a bottle worked. Johnny would give him suspicious looks when he would see Haechan stocking up soju inside their room, but he doesn’t ever say anything. Because alcohol made him sleep, until it didn’t. Until half a bottle stopped working. Until an entire bottle is no longer enough. Until Taeyong’s decided that there should be no alcohol inside anyone’s fridge, both fifth and tenth floors.

Hence, the drinking problem.

Haechan wonders what’s next. The sleeping problem, then the drinking problem. It looks like here is it, the next one: the scandal.

When Haechan was a trainee, his greatest fear was getting removed from the agency.

There was an assessment every quarter, and the CEO himself would sit down in a panel alongside other producers and choreographers to identify which of the trainees would move on to another level and which ones would have to go home. Each time they had to go through the assessment, Haechan, alongside other existing members of NCT, would spend long days inside the training room. He would fear that the CEO would ask him to rap all of a sudden because Haechan can’t rap to save his god damn life at that time. He would fear that his mother would receive a call and find out his beloved son, whom she spent so much money on just to get ballet classes, failed and would need to go home.

Today, Haechan fears none of those.

The decision to put him in an indefinite hiatus was quick to make, not that Haechan expected anything less.

The news was out the second they threw him out of the meeting room (but not before the CEO slapping him right across the face, his left cheek throbbing in pain he’s oddly happy he could feel) and his bags were packed before he could even tell his members. The dorms were empty when he arrived, and there was no time to visit Dream’s place; Haechan knew he could just call, or visit. His family lives twenty minutes away, a short ride from downtown. He’d figure it out, like he always would.

What fazes him is what he comes home to.

His father offers him a one-way ticket, says his mother is still too upset to look even at Haechan in the face, that she’s spending the night in her friend’s house. The domestic flight ticket is bound to Jeju Island, and it boards tomorrow morning.

“Your grandmother will be waiting for you,” his father says, eyes everywhere but Haechan’s. “Your mother thinks it would be the best for now. Your agency knows, of course, and they’re helping us ensure you get your privacy in Jeju-do. We just need you to stay there for a bit, Donghyuck. Might help.”

“Dad,” Haechan pleads, Dad sounding foreign to him now. He’s stopped calling him Dad years ago, right before he debuted in NCT, and had been calling him Father. He’s not sure why he’a suddenly calling him that now, perhaps it’s the sinking feeling in his stomach, but Haechan is desperate for another solution. “You can’t send me back in the island. I haven’t lived in grandmother’s house since I was twelve.”

“Don’t act like the place isn’t civilized, Donghyuck,” his father sighs. “You’ll be okay. You can take your expensive gaming laptop with you so you can entertain yourself while you’re on vacation. It’s only going to be a few months.”

“A few months?” Haechan cries. “I can’t live there anymore!”

“The agency decided not to terminate their contract with you,” his father reveals. “Apparently, you’re too talented to let go of. Your mother and I are very grateful they didn’t. All they want in return is for you to go back in six months—sober and full of life again. Your therapist suggests you go to a vacation.”

“I don’t have a therapist?”

“The doctor who prescribed you sleeping pills? You didn’t tell us you had insomnia.”

“Fuck you,” Haechan spits before he could even think about it. “Neither you nor mother thought of asking me what’s been going on. Dad, I wanted you to scold me. To punch me in the fucking gut and tell me I’ve ruined everything. I wanted mother to yell at me until my ear bleeds, so I can find the motivation to work hard and make her happy again.”

“Donghyuck, we–”

“Don’t call me that!” He yells. “The first thing that came to your mind was how grateful you are that I’m not fired from my job? I’m not some retirement plan! I’m your son!”

“Keep it down. Your siblings are–”

”Donghyuck-hyung?” Haechan turns. Gyeom stands at the end of the hallway, seemingly woken up from his slumber, and Dongmin hides behind the younger one to see what’s going on. Haechan doesn’t even see Seungyeon come out of her room. He just hears her door shut loudly, the lock clicking, and realize he fucked up big time.

He takes a look at the ticket from his father’s hand.

It’s ridiculous. If the melatonin pills he’s taking are not helping with his stupid insomnia, and drinking a bottle of soju works as equally as useless, what the fuck could work? They think a recreational vacation to fucking Jeju Island would do shit?

Fuck his parents, honestly.

Fuck his siblings for not even giving him a hug as soon as he entered their home.

Fuck his members for not checking up on him.

Fuck the entire god damn world.

He rips the ticket from his father’s hand and turns to leave, taking the same bags he’d brought in a few minutes ago. The flight is tomorrow morning, but Haechan calls a taxi to take him to the airport.

Sleeping (or at least, trying to) in the uncomfortable airport seats is a fucking pain in the ass, literally. But nothing more hurts than the look on his family’s face: the blankness in his father’s and the fright from his siblings.

Jeju fucking Island. Way to end the day.

When Haechan was younger, his grandmother would take him to the Camellia Hills on the weekends. While kids his age would be taken in Aqua Planet to see thousands of animals and plant species to ease their shoulders from studies, Haechan would be running around fields of camellia and hydrangea flowers. They would spend hours just walking around trees of over five hundred different kinds of wildflowers. His grandmother would take pictures of him and let him eat whatever he wanted at a nearby restaurant, and his siblings would always cry and complain why Nana only wanted to bring Haechan. There wasn’t a particular reason, of course, it was only because the younger ones were too difficult for their grandmother to look after on a trip to Camellia Hill. Little Donghyuckie was well-behaved albeit his bold and obnoxious nature. He would do whatever his Nana would ask him.

Haechan’s always claimed that he’s the favorite despite his grandmother repeatedly saying she doesn’t do favorites, and he knows deep in his heart that he is. He is, after all, the first grandchild, and he spent a lot of time with his Nana alone for many years while they were in Jeju.

His grandmother used to sing him to sleep at night. When his younger sister was born, Nana stayed with them in Seoul for a while to help his parents adjust to having two kids, considering Haechan’s age gap with Seungyeon is only a year. Nana made sure Haechan slept well every night, in a separate room from his parents because newborn Seungyeon who wouldn’t let anyone sleep past one in the morning. She’d sing him songs from The Beatles in broken English, and Haechan likes to think that even though both his parents were musicians, the reason why he could sing well was his Nana.

She eventually had to move back to Jeju Island as soon as the family had settled, but years later, at the age of seven, his grandfather died and Nana was left all alone to tend to their land and business, hence the Lee family packed their bags to stay at Nana’s supposedly for the summer, but ended up with the decision of staying for her.

Nana had problems sleeping when his grandfather died. Haechan used to find her awake when he’d need a glass of water or to go to the toilet at two in the morning. She’d be watching television, a nighttime talk show she used to like, or reading a book from his grandfather’s shelf. The lights in her home were always on.

So, Haechan started singing her to sleep just like how she did when he was a child.

She’d tell him, “Oh, my Donghyuckie, you have such a nice voice. Why don’t you sing more?”

Then she’d fall asleep while Haechan wondered why lovers die at different times, why one has to go first and the other is left on Earth trying to sleep well every night.

Upon his arrival in Jeju-do, his grandmother doesn’t pick him up from the airport like he’d expected, so he takes a taxi from the airport to her house. Haechan knows what their home looks like despite not visiting since his training days. They own a small hectare of land filled with tangerine trees, and his grandmother had been the sole operator of it all for many years until she had to start hiring people here and there to manage things for her when her age caught up with her. His father used to travel back and forth to see how things are here and there, but eventually stopped when Nana had found people she can rely on—which Haechan is very glad about.

He must be an asshole, or a prick, or a hypocrite to even say this but he’s been thinking about her more often than he calls. If he recalls right, the last time he’d called was three months ago, on her birthday, but it was two-minute exchange of generic how are yous and please stay healthys. She would call, of course, but Haechan would always have something as an excuse: a dance practice, a trip to Japan for a show, a photoshoot, something. Something to cover up the fact that he hasn’t been the best grandson to her in a long time.

He arrives and the first thing he notices is a hammock hanging in between the posts of her patio. A kick of nostalgia hits him because grandfather put up a hammock at the back of their home once, when Haechan was around five years old and they were visiting the couple for the summer. Her grandmother used to tell Haechan that the hammock is the best place to take his afternoon naps, hence little Donghyuck would spend most of his afternoons lying on a hammock made of strong nylon.

Shaking off the nostalgia, Haechan clears his throat. “Nana! I’m home!”

“Donghyuckie, is that you?” she calls from somewhere. Haechan walks over to the patio and drops his bags.

Nana comes out from the side of the house, her favorite pink apron on, grey hair hidden by a hair cap. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Haechan sees her age simply by the way she stands. Her back is hunched more than it was the last time he saw her during Chuseok last year. The wrinkles in the edges of her eyes and around her mouth are much more evident. The skin on her neck is loose, and so is the skin on her arms and everywhere.

For a second, Haechan feels like he’s seven again, seeing her for the first time since summer, her eyes not as happy as they were from the last time they’d been in Jeju-do, when grandfather was still alive. Haechan suddenly is taken back to when she’d hug him so, so tightly, crying to his shoulder, telling him harabeoji had left her while she was asleep. He remembers his heart dropping down to the ground when he saw her breaking down, his loving grandmother—who was always bright and happy, whom people would say he got his personality from—at her lowest. It’s the same wave of sadness Haechan feels looking at her now—looking at the years painted in her skin. Her memories blurring out the color of her eyes. Decades of hard work and labor tainted on the callouses on her fingers. Glints of loneliness spread throughout the wrinkles on her face.

Haechan has been all over the world for years now. Years of training and sleepless nights perfecting a performance had led him to where he is now. People who speak different languages love him and cheer for him even with countries and continents in between. He’s made millions happy by simply singing songs or saying hi in a fan call. And while he’s done of all of these, what had he done for his grandmother? People have been watching him grow up, who was watching Nana all this time?

Haechan chokes on his own tears. His grandmother, his Nana, opens her arms like Haechan is not the person the world hates right now. She hugs him like Haechan is not the person who had potentially ruined the group his best friend Mark had worked hard on. She holds him in her arms like Haechan is not the person who scared his siblings and cursed his own father. Nana takes him inside her home like he’s her Donghyuck again.

Haechan feels like he’s her Donghyuckie again.

Contrary to popular belief, Donghyuck doesn’t like affection as much as Haechan does.

He believes that being offered tenderness is the very proof that you’ve been ruined, and Haechan likes to think that with the life he has now, he’s not really in the position to talk about his life’s struggles. Because there are more people in the world who deserves to talk about their pain. Donghyuck doesn’t deserve as much.

Hence, the nostalgia goes away as quickly as it arrives. Haechan spends the rest of the day trying to sleep in his grandmother’s spare room and doesn’t even bother answering when his grandmother knocked on his door to invite him for lunch despite him being wide awake.

Haechan gets up at five in the afternoon, just when the sun is about to set, eyes heavy. The sky looks a lot like the color of his own skin, he notices, and he thinks about how beautiful the sky would be in Han River and recalls how him and Mark (and sometimes Doyoung) would lie on the ground, letting their skin soak in the sun slowly sinking down to its rest.

But none of that is close to happening because he’s here. In Jeju-do. Stuck like some twelve-year old sent to camp for an entire summer because his parents can’t stand him.

Haechan’s train of (bitter) thoughts is interrupted with a loud plonk from the wooden patio, which is right outside his window. He pulls his curtains slightly to peek, and he finds you on the floor on your side, groaning like a kid and massaging your back. It looks like you’d just fallen out of the hammock.

Curious, Haechan gets up and quickly slips out of his room to see you on their front porch.

“And Nana says it’s the most comfortable place to sleep on,” he hears you mumble as you get up, eyes meeting his as soon as you see him. Your eyes widen in shock, probably recognizing him, but you quickly catch yourself and look down.

“You are?” Haechan asks, towering over you.

You clear your throat. “Y/N.”

“I don’t mean your name, pumpkin,” he replies. “What do you do here?”

Haechan smirks at the way one of your eyebrows raised, clearly already infuriated at his attitude. You’re wearing a white shirt that’s too big for you underneath your denim overalls. The pair of boots sitting under the hammock is a clear sign that you’re a farmer tending to the tangerine trees on the land right beside the house, separated by a fence and his grandmother’s home garden.

“I manage your grandmother’s land,” you answer, stance defensive. “And it looks like you’re the delinquent grandson they sent away for the summer?”

Haechan chuckles, liking how you’re bark and bite, wondering how far he can push you, because the last thing he really wants is someone staying at his grandmother’s house. Too close. Too easy to see everything. You’d make millions selling him to the tabloids. He’d honestly rather hear people saying how much of an asshole he is, than have people invading his grandmother’s privacy while he’s here.

“You mean the world star, right?” he brags, licking his upper lip. “And you manage the land we own? Sounds a lot like a farmer to me.”

You stifle a laugh. You’re not at all intimidated. “Oh, pumpkin, I think the last thing you’d want to do in Jeju-do is insult a farmer for their job. The agricultural structure of Jeju Island has done more than you thrusting your hips up on the air for young, easily-manipulated teenage girls, Donghyuck.”

“So, you know my name?”

You click your tongue and turn around, proceeding to slip your boots back on. “How could I not know?”

“Because I’m a world star, right. How could you not know?”

Haechan watches you tie the laces up of your boots. You don’t give him another glance and leave, stomping your feet down the stairs to the ground until you’re out of his sight.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Nana says from inside. The door is wide open. “Where’s Y/N?”

She walks towards where Haechan stands, looking around for you. “That girl. I told her to stay for dinner. What’d you do, Donghyuck-ah?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles, annoyed at how Nana is more concerned about you leaving than ensuring his privacy. He’s a star, for god’s sake. “Why’d you let her sleep here, anyway? And have her stay for dinner? Aren’t you scared she might sell me off to some magazine for, I don’t know, one million won?”

“Why would Y/N sell you—“ his grandmother sighs. “Not everyone is out to get you, Donghyuck-ah.”

“Why does she even know my birth name?” he questions. “That’s like, too much, Nana. Don’t share things like that.”

His grandmother slaps his arm. “Ow! What’d you do that for?”

“You’re a moron!” she screeches. “That was Y/N! She waited for you to wake up all day!”

“That’s creepy!”

“Y/C/N,” Nana enunciates. Haechan remembers. “Her childhood nickname. Does it ring a bell?”

“Y/N—” he breathes out. Frozen. “—is Y/C/N?”

Haechan has always had an affinity with flowers, long before he named his fans sunflowers.

His grandparents had a larger flower garden as compared to how it is now. They’d planted tangerine trees in place of the fields of beautiful red azalea and rhododendron blossoms. On spring days, the cherry blossoms were infinite, and little Donghyuck used to spend a lot of time looking at the flowers and making necklaces out of them.

You used to (still do, perhaps) live down the street, and your parents used to help out in the farm when your grandparents needed another pair of hands to harvest the tangerines. Little Donghyuck met you when he was six.

If he recalls it right, it was the second day of summer, a hundred something days before they had to return back to Seoul. He found you lying under a cherry blossom tree, eyes closed, allowing hundreds of pink petals to drown you in their beauty. Little Donghyuck lied down beside you, upside-down but his head is right beside yours. He’s always been a curious kid, so he wanted to know why you were letting the pink petals rain on you. There was nothing special about it. Just petals falling when the wind blows a certain direction.

When he opened his eyes, you turn to look at him, your eyebrows were furrowed the way they were when Haechan found you on the floor of his patio earlier, right after you’d fallen from the hammock.

“Hey,” you had said. “You’re the kid from Nana’s house, right?”

“She’s my Nana,” he corrected, closing his eyes once again. “And yes, I’m the kid from Nana’s house. You are?”

“My mom calls me Y/C/N,” you answered. “Are you staying for the summer?”

He nodded. “Only for the summer. We’re leaving before school starts.”

“Do you like flowers?” you asked.

“We don’t have a lot of flowers in Seoul,” Little Donghyuck mumbled. “But I love flowers. Last summer, Nana took me to Camellia Hills to see the flowers bloom in May.”

“Then you should stay,” you trailed off. “If you love flowers and Seoul doesn’t offer much, then you should stay.”

“What about school?” Donghyuck had asked, opening his eyes to look at you. You’re looking at him, upside-down and all. Donghyuck’s never seen someone more beautiful. “You’re pretty.”

Your eyes widened. You immediately hide your face from him using your hands. “We’re only five. I can’t have a boyfriend at five years old.”

“Maybe when we’re older.”

Haechan doesn’t remember much from the day you met, but he got close to you during that summer in 2006, even more when his family moved back to Jeju-do in 2007. Your friendship blossomed from walking together in first grade throughout primary school until he’d graduated and eventually moved back to Seoul.

He can’t believe that he’d forgotten your name, and a part of him knows it’s because he’s always called you by your childhood nickname, but a larger part of him likes to think that it’s because he’s almost twenty-three now—it’s been almost ten years. He’s met probably thousands of people at this point, and with the lifestyle he has, he really can’t afford to remember each person he spends time with. Not even the girl he spent his entire childhood in Jeju-do with.

So, Haechan forgives himself before he could ask for yours. He reckons you’d understand. You know him, somehow. You kept in touch until Haechan got into SM in 2013 and high school and training got the best of him. He changed his number and lost contact with almost everyone in Jeju-do, even his closest friends, and you were one them.

Life as a singer means Haechan had to sacrifice a lot of things.

Most people know an idol sacrifices having a normal life—playing in the streets, trying out to be a part of the basketball team, dating at fifteen years old, prom, staying at one classmate’s house for a group project—and it includes forgetting the people you used to be close with.

One of the rules in SM when he was a trainee was to not get in touch with the people from their past. One of their managers used to tell them that their lives are divided into two parts: before training and after training; and to be successful in the industry means to forget who you were before training. They’d deleted all of his social media, which means he disconnected from the people he knew before he was Haechan. They’d deleted who he was before Haechan.

Many sacrifices, indeed. The list goes on, and at the end of it was your name.

“She never left Jeju-do?” Haechan asks, curious, as he ate the dinner Nana made for him. “Like not even for college?”

“She didn’t go to college at all,” Nana answers. “And she likes it here. Why do you make staying in Jeju-do sound like a living hell?”

Haechan shrugs. “It’s not like that, Nana. I mean, God knows what I’d do to get a normal life and go to college in Seoul and do what normal people in their early twenties do.”

Nana smiles at him. “This is probably what normal is for her. Not everyone has big dreams like you.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Haechan asks. “Dreams are free. It doesn’t cost anything to dream. Why wouldn’t people want to have big dreams?”

“Aren’t you the lucky one to have a dream and to be able to live your dream?” Nana says. She finishes up her meal and watches Haechan eat. “How are you, Donghyuck-ah?”

Haechan stops chewing and braces himself. Nobody’s asked him how he is. He continues chewing like it’s not a question that’s been weighing him under.

“I’m okay,” he answers, mouth full of food. “They didn’t fire me. So, I guess I should be grateful. I’m okay.”

“You know that you don’t have to lie to Nana, right?” She asks, smile kind and warm.

And Haechan wants to say it all. Out loud. Maybe even cry.

But he is not about to let his grandmother carry his burdens with her. Burdens that shouldn’t even matter because he’s so lucky to have the life he has now. Burdens that are nothing compared to other people’s.

“Come on, Donghyuck-ah,” she urges. “Talk to Nana. Tell me what’s wrong, my dear.”

“Halmeoni,” he firmly says. “I said I’m okay. I’m tired. Thank you for the meal.” He bows and stands to leave.

Life has a singer means Haechan had to sacrifice a lot, indeed.

Nana leaves a box of things Haechan would need while he’s in Jeju-do before her trusted chauffeur takes her to the town’s market for some business.

Haechan finds himself wearing the same fit as you the day before: a pair of overalls, an old, non-branded shirt that looks like it’s been worn and washed 300 times. Nana left a list of chores to do, and there’s no way Haechan is doing all of those. He’s taking a walk around the fields, supervise like how the owner’s grandson should, bask on the sunlight for a bit, then go back to his room and play some games with strangers online.

You’re waiting by the patio, sitting and looking at the opposite direction so he only sees your back, when Haechan comes out, dressed up for the role but not ready for whatever today brings him.

“Took you long enough,” you grumble as he steps out of the house. You stand and turn to look at him. “Lock the door and let’s get going. You’re late on your first day.”

“Chill out, sweet cheeks,” he scoffs, reaching behind the door and locking it before slamming it shut. “You’re not the boss of me.”

You nod, chuckling. “I’m not. But your grandmother is. And she added your list to the name of workers joining us to harvest today. You will be paid by the hour.”

Haechan gasps lightly in disbelief. “I don’t need to work. We own this place.”

“Hmm,” you hum, feigning curiosity as you tap your index finger to your chin as if you’re thinking hard. “You know I manage this whole place, right? Which means I also manage its taxes and permits annually. I’ve never seen your name in any of the papers I play with every day.”

“Same fucking thing,” he mumbles, walking past you to reach the gate. Haechan finds two horses waiting for him outside. He turns, ready to ask you what kind of joke you’re pulling on him, but he finds you going around the house, perhaps to make sure everything’s locked and all. You catch up on him, eyebrows raised when he points to the horses.

“Don’t tell me you can’t ride a horse,” you ask, seemingly in disbelief that someone like him isn’t capable of riding a horse. “You can’t work in the fields just walking. You’ll tire yourself out and will waste most of your working hours just walking.”

“I—I’m really not—” Haechan falters for a second, but comes back as quickly as he goes. “It’s been years since the last time I rode a horse. I’m not certain if I can do that now.” You give him a questioning look. “Besides. I’m a celebrity if you haven’t noticed it already. What if I break a bone?”

“You’ll live.”

“What if I fall and break my face?”

“Seoul has the best plastic surgeons.”

“My legs! They were injured before. I can’t afford to get another injury!”

“You’ll be fine. You’re such a drama queen.”

“I’m a star!”

At that, you burst out into a fit of laughter, the kind that Haechan would normally join in, because what he just said is truly ridiculous. He can’t believe he said that himself. But, of course, he can’t just laugh with, basically, a stranger.

“Oh my God, Lee Donghyuck,” you say in between laughter.

Something ignites something in him, the way you just said his name.

Haechan is a name he loves, an alter-ego he adores, a character he lives. Full sun, because that’s what he wants to be. He wants to bring light to everyone looking up to him, and he wants to be remembered by the way his voice warms the entire planet. He loves hearing cheers and applause when he introduces himself as Haechan. Because Haechan is talented. Haechan is an ace, an all-rounder who can do anything an idol is expected to do, perhaps even more. Haechan is bright and positive, and he likes making people laugh and at the same time uncomfortable of the influx of skinship he offers. Haechan loves the lights and cameras on stage, and he adores the way his name is in every city he goes to.

Meanwhile, Lee Donghyuck, he’s heard in a million times. Mark still calls him Donghyuck like they never aged since 2013, even Doyoung and Jeno. His parents seldom call him Haechan, never for Nana. His fans also have been calling him Donghyuck since they learned his birth name is Donghyuck, sometimes Hyuck or Hyuckie, which he finds really endearing.

Yet no one’s ever called him his name like he’s nothing but just Lee Donghyuck. Not for a long time. Not from someone before Haechan.

Donghyuck suddenly feels like he’s twelve again, the year he left Jeju-do and had to say goodbye to all of his friends with a promise to keep in touch and to never forget. Donghyuck finds himself looking at the way you’re laughing, how you have your eyes closed, mouth agape and melodies of your amusement coming out like a song he thought he’d forgotten but know all the words to, and he finds himself thinking, maybe being Lee Donghyuck isn’t so bad.

His first day at the farm didn’t go as quick as expected and if Donghyuck could say so himself, it’s the longest fucking day in his entire life.

Evidently, he couldn’t ride a horse to save his life. He doesn’t even know why he’d told you it’s been a long time when the only time he ever rode a horse was when he was eleven for a field trip and only to take a god damn picture to make his mother smile. You and him were only a couple of horse steps or whatever away from Nana’s home and his horse was already squirming and more like threatening to throw him ten meters away, hence, you begrudgingly offered to have him ride with you. Donghyuck didn’t decline, of course, because it was either walk around the place under the hot sun or die at the hands of a stupid horse. You had let him sit behind you, skillfully and impressively holding the other horse by its rope, Donghyuck’s arms reluctantly wrapped around your waist because he didn’t want to fall, and if you were uncomfortable, you didn’t say anything about it.

You had taken him to a tour within his grandparents’ land, and Donghyuck is already twenty-three when he realized his grandparents are big time, like for real. The land isn’t as big as the others, ones that are owned by a big corporation, people who aren’t even from Jeju-do but like to play agricultural monopoly, but it’s bigger than most. Nana was too humbled when she’d told him the night before that he would need to help out in their “small” business.

The business is nowhere near small, with hundreds of tangerine trees scattered around, blooming in the famous Jeju-do delicacy, and she had forty to fifty employees working for her.

“Not really like full-time employees,” you had explained when Donghyuck verbalized his surprise with the number of people working for the farm. “Normally, it’s just me and Nana and a few other people who handle the delivery, quality assurance, and sales in the farmer’s market, which I’d need to take you to tomorrow, and also some folks from Seoul who handle the cargo shipping to the cities. But when it’s harvest season, we really would need more than ten pairs of hands to help out.”

“So, like, all year, there’s only around ten people are here,” Donghyuck confirmed, hands still on your waist as the horse came to a stop. “And on harvest season, Nana hires more people to help out. That’s really nice. Could be a good summer job for students and all.”

You hummed in agreement, patting the horse that Donghyuck learned you named as Daisy. “But normally, you’d find older people working here instead of the younger ones.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck’s curious. “That’s a little odd. I mean, isn’t the job physically tiring?”

You shrugged. “The elderly, well, they don’t really have a lot of opportunities to work here, you know, considering that Jeju-do has become more of like a tourist island than a self-sufficient, thriving agricultural place. You’ve probably heard of the water park they’d built nearby the airport and other big corporations taking over and building their stores here and there. And of course, they’d most likely hire younger people who can relate to the Korean Wave your group caused, right?”

“Keeping tabs?”

You scoffed at that. “As if! Now, get down before I ask Daisy to wiggle her ass and throw you off.”

After the supposed short tour that took an hour because, well, their land is enormous, you take him where some of the elderly people are harvesting.

“This is Donghyuck,” you’d introduced. “Nana’s grandson from Seoul. He’ll be helping us today. So, halmeoni, don’t even think about getting him off the hook because he’s Nana’s grandson. He will be paid for the day like everyone else. You wouldn’t want someone to get paid the same, only to work half of what you do, right?”

The older women laughed at the way you’d introduced him, and he feels his heart swell with the way you’re laughing with them and how they looked at him with so much tenderness. And normally, Donghyuck doesn’t like the look of tenderness, especially when directed to him, but today, it felt warm. Warmth like never before.

“You grew up so handsome, Donghyuck-ah,” one of the women said. “But I thought you’d be taller, you know. You had such long limbs when you were younger.”

Donghyuck feigned offense, clutching his chest. “Ahjumma, you should’ve stopped at the word handsome.”

“Tangerines ripen earlier than other citruses, so they can escape damage from freezes that will harm midseason varieties such as grapefruit and sweet oranges. Most varieties will be ready for picking during the winter and early spring, although the exact tangerine harvest time depends on the cultivar and region,” you explain, following the lead while Donghyuck and two other guys around yours and his age trail behind you. He apparently needs some training before he can start working.

“How do we know if they’re ready to be picked?” Joohyuk, one of the part-timers, ask.

You will know it’s about harvest time for tangerines when the fruit is a good shade of orange and begins to soften a bit. This is your chance to do a taste test,” you answer, stopping to show an abundant tangerine tree. You pick one out and show it to Donghyuck and the rest. “Cut the fruit from the tree at the stem with hand pruners. If after your taste test the fruit has reached its ideal juicy sweetness, proceed to snip other fruit from the tree with the hand pruners.”

You proceed to show them how it’s cut and hand them a piece each. Donghyuck likes that the fruit is sweet, not sour.

The ahjummas find your group and start handing baskets to Donghyuck and the guys, telling them they’d guide them all throughout.

He found himself spending the rest of the morning getting to know the people harvesting tangerines and making them laugh like it’s his job. He learned all their names one by one, their families briefly, and what they used to do before they retired. By the time it’s lunch, Donghyuck was about to say goodbye and perhaps ask you to take him back to his house, the group from the other side of the farm joined their area, all packed with bags of lunch.

They asked him to join, of course, but Donghyuck refused, in respect of their time to relax and take a break, and asked if you could take him home instead. You agreed, of course, mumbling that you would also need to go home to feed your dog.

“I’ll pick you up at 1:15,” you say as soon as Donghyuck lands on his feet. “Don’t sleep, please. The ahjummas will be expecting you. It’ll be a lot hotter, so drench your celebrity skin with twice the amount of sunscreen you’d normally use.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck responds, itching to say thank you, but not enough to actually say it. He rubs Daisy’s neck instead. “You—I, okay.”

“O-kay,” you nod and whistle to signal Daisy to turn and walk the other way.

Nana waits for him by the patio. “How was your first day?”

“It’s not even over yet,” he sighs, slumping his butt on one of the patio’s stairs. “Nana, I can’t believe you’re making me work while I’m on vacation.”

“Your father never said anything about a vacation,” she responds, smiling as she struggles to sit beside him. Donghyuck helps her. “You’re here for some time away from work, right?”

“Yeah, a vacation,” he emphasizes.

Nana reaches to move the fringe covering a part of his eyes. “Let’s call this your healing time. But I wouldn’t call it a vacation because a vacation for you only means playing computer games until the sun rises then sleeping all day.”

“You should stop talking to Seungyeon about me,” he mumbles, looking sideways to find his grandmother looking at him lovingly. “And I don’t only play computer games. I also listen to a lot of music.”

“Try not to think about the limelight while you’re here,” she says. “The farm needs some help now. And it’s the best time for you to learn about the family business in case you don’t make it back in Seoul.” Donghyuck groans, burying his face in his hands, and Nana laughs at him. “That’s a possibility you should be considering, Donghyuck-ah.”

“Nana, you’re making me feel worse,” he whines. “You just told me not to think about the limelight, how can I not when you just said what you said!”

“I’m only joking,” she admits. “No one is ever going to take the limelight away from you, Donghyuck-ah, even if they try. You were born for the stage, and I know it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Donghyuck looks up at her. “Is it bad that it’s all I want?”

Nana shakes her head and offers a kind smile. “Having a dream like yours is never bad, Donghyuck-ah. I know that eventually you’d have to leave and go back to where you really belong: the limelight. But all I’m saying is, stepping out of the light isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

“Right.”

“Tell me how it was in the farm.”

“The ladies love me,” he chuckles. “I’m quite popular even in the small villages of Jeju-do, aren’t I?”

“You sure are,” she agrees. “They’ve been asking about you for a long time. Looks like your Nana isn’t the only one who missed you.”

“How come they still remember me?” he asks before he can think about it. “I mean, I’m sorry, but I’ve forgotten about most people here. They still remember how I used to play around and sing for small events.”

It’s true. It caught him by surprise that the workers still remembered him—and not only because he’s a celebrity now, but they remember him by the small, insignificant happenstances when he was younger. Like for example, one of them mentioned how he was once was injured, his pinky finger to be exact, because he was running like a madman when his mother had given him permission to go play computer games with his cousin. He doesn’t remember that person being there, but he knows his grandmother talked about it like it was a news about a hurricane hitting Seoul at that time it happened.

It makes Donghyuck wonder how many people remember him, and how many people he’d forgotten and left behind for his dreams.

“Our world here in Jeju-do is small,” Nana explains. “People like you, who left, well, while ours remain humble and small, while we fade into the background and slowly become insignificant, yours become bigger. So, while we remember, you forget, slowly, one by one—and nobody blames you for forgetting, Donghyuck-ah.”

Oh, look. Another burden, another truth that Donghyuck has to carry for the rest of his life. Another reason not to fall asleep tonight.

There is a small, local store located down the road from his grandmother’s house. They don’t sell nearly half the number the ones local convenience stores in Seoul would, but Donghyuck likes to think it’ll do. Soju and beer taste the same anyway, regardless of where he buys it.

With the faint, beaten yellow paint from its exterior, the store has been around even before Donghyuck was born. It’s the village’s very own convenience store, after all. There weren’t any rival stores like how it would look like in Seoul where every corner of every street one would find a convenience store. From where Donghyuck stands, the store doesn’t like look like it’s changed much in a decade.

For some reason, Donghyuck remembers how much Renjun likes reading neuroscience studies for fun. He doesn’t know anyone else who would read neuroscience studies. For fun. But anyway, back to his point, there was a neuroscience study that Renjun has been blabbing about during their US tour. It was something about when someone recalls an old memory, a representation of the entire event is instantaneously reactivated in the brain that often includes the people, location, smells, music, and other trivia. Recalling old memories can have a cinematic quality. Memories often seem to play out in the mind's eye like an old Super 8 home movie or vintage Technicolor film. Neuroscientists discovered that when someone tries to remember a singular aspect of an event from his or her past—such as a recent birthday party—that a complete representation of the entire scene is reactivated in the brain like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together to create a vivid recollection. The new research reveals that humans remember life events using individual threads, that are coupled together into a tapestry of associations.

Donghyuck’s never really understood what Renjun meant at that time, except now.

He stands there, a good ten-meter distance from where you’re sitting. The pavement on the sidewalk isn’t the most comfortable place to sit in, but Donghyuck thinks it might just be, with how comfortable and at peace you look: legs stretched out to the street, headphones covering your ears, a book (or a journal perhaps, Donghyuck can’t see well from here) in one of your hands while the other is twirling a pen.

The scene takes him back to ten years ago, in the exact same place where you’re sitting, and if Donghyuck thinks about it now, it seems like nothing’s really change—except he’s almost twenty-three now, and despite him standing a few meters away from you, it feels like you and him are worlds away. And from what it looks like, you still love writing as much as Donghyuck loves singing.

It was a warm evening in May 2013, a couple of weeks before school ended and summer would officially start, counting down the nights when Donghyuck would have to move back to Seoul, and it was way too hot for Donghyuck’s liking. Nana didn’t have an air-conditioning system yet; his father was working hard to get her one before they leave for Seoul because summers can be crazy hot in Jeju-do. And Donghyuck needed a popsicle so bad, otherwise, he’d probably explode.

He found you the same place where you are now. Donghyuck thought your SHINEE shirt looked cute because while girls your age liked the newly debuted EXO, you still listened to SHINEE like a religion. You were sitting with your legs sprawled on the street, right under the streetlight, a pen in one hand and your old, beaten up journal on the other. Your eyebrows were furrowed, and Donghyuck caught himself before he could start thinking about how pretty you looked like that: focused and doing what you loved.

Donghyuck decided not to disrupt your focus and opted to go straight inside the small store, spending the last of his money on yours and his favorite: lime and cherry twin popsicle—the kind that’s packaged in one, two flavors in one, lime green and cherry red colors separated in the middle between popsicle sticks. Lime for you, cherry for him. You didn’t look up when he sat beside you, but took the lime-flavored popsicle from his hand when he handed it to you after peeling off the plastic cover and breaking it into two.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the ice-cold treat in your mouth. Donghyuck couldn’t help but think his cherry-flavored popsicle resembled the color of your lips.

Donghyuck nodded his thoughts away, leaning in to peak at the page you’re working on. “What are you working on?” he asked it while the popsicle rested on one side of his mouth, his left cheek protruding.

You shrugged, taking the popsicle off your mouth, showing your work to him. Donghyuck found it endearing that you write all over the pages of your journals, it was as though he could see your train of thoughts: some smudged, some erased under ink but not really because he could still read through it, some clear as day, some to never see daylight again.

“I was in Science class today,” you started.

“We’re in the same homeroom, dumbass. I was there.”

“I’m talking,” you whined. “And I doubt you were even listening. You hate Science more than anything.”

“Fair point,” he hummed. “Okay, what about Science class? Please don’t tell me you’ll start writing about Science. Because I’m so sorry. I’ll never read any of your work ever again if you decide to do that.”

You laughed, the melody of your fondness of his jokes creating its own room inside the crevices of Donghyuck’s brain. “Teacher Kim was talking about symbiosis.”

“I’m not even going to pretend I know what that means.”

“Symbiosis is a term describing any relationship or interaction between two dissimilar organisms. The specific kind of symbiosis depends on whether either or both organisms benefit from the relationship,” you continued. “Butterflies and flowers, they are the best examples of symbiosis.”

Donghyuck nodded, savoring the sweetness of his cherry-flavored treat.

“Hence I did some research and read more about butterflies and flowers, and I read something a little sad,” you trailed off. “I learned that certain flowers bloom when butterflies hatch and depends on how they match each other. Butterflies, they prefer light-colored flowers they can perch on. So, when the timing is off, the flower misses the butterfly. The butterfly, therefore, finds another flower.”

“Then what happens to the flower?” Donghyuck asked, watching as you try to catch the melting piece off your popsicle, taking it back to your mouth. Your lips looked really pretty. “If it misses all the timing?”

“Well,” you shrugged, looking up to the night sky. The stars in Jeju-do that night were much prettier than it is in Seoul. “They bloom again next year, and hope that maybe next time, the timing is better. That the butterfly arrives just in time for the flowers to bloom.

“That is a little sad,” Donghyuck acknowledged. He watched you look back down, grimacing a little as you take the popsicle off your mouth. “Wanna try mine?” he asked before he could think about it.

You looked back at him. The stars in Jeju-do turned out to be nothing compared to your eyes. “Yeah?”

Donghyuck pulled the sweet treat from his mouth just as you hand him your lime-flavored one. He took it in his mouth, and Donghyuck had never been the biggest fan of anything sour, but for some reason, the lime flavor tasted sweeter than ever. You took his cherry-flavored ones, groaning in delight as you taste the treat’s sweetness.

“Cherry has always been my favorite,” you’d confessed, and Donghyuck was surprised because you’d always gotten the lime-flavored ones. The twin pops were your thing since you met summer of 2006—it was cheap, practical for two kids, two-in-one; you’d always choose the lime ones. “God, this is good.”

“You literally always take the lime ones,” he argued. “My whole life has been a lie. I’ve always thought lime was your favorite because you always take it whenever we get this!”

You shrugged. “You never liked anything sour,” you said like it’s the easiest thing to say, like it didn’t make Donghyuck’s heart somersault. “And I can take a little bit of sourness if it means you enjoy your cherry-flavored popsicle.”

Donghyuck was only twelve. He didn’t know anything about falling in love, but that night might just be the closest thing.

“So, you drink alcohol to help you fall asleep?” you ask as if it’s the most interesting solution to insomnia. Donghyuck thinks it isn’t; he’s read somewhere online that alcohol really helps. “That’s stupid.”

Donghyuck shrugs. ��It’s not really working great right now. But it helps.”

He sits beside you on the sidewalk, legs sprawled out just like yours, a can of cold beer one hand while the other holds him up, flat on the rough pavement. There’s no particular reason why Donghyuck’s talking to you now. You and him got off the wrong foot, and it’s not like you can really blame Donghyuck for seeing a (supposed) stranger sleeping at his grandmother’s patio. And you were friends. Even though it’s been years, Donghyuck reckons talking to you would do no harm. Besides, if he’s staying here for a few months, a companion would probably make it less miserable.

“And your father thinks coming to Jeju-do would help, too?” you ask.

Donghyuck chuckles. “I guess you could say that. What else have you heard about me?”

You look at him, away from the street and right into his eyes. Donghyuck wonders why he didn’t recognize you the first time he saw you. Your face looks the same from the day he bid you goodbye a decade ago—lips colored in cherry, eyes bright as the stars, cheeks soft all over.

“A lot,” you answer. “But I’ve never been one to believe in rumors anyway.”

Donghyuck licks his lips. “The rumors are true.”

“Not about the sleeping around and getting drunk, pabo,” you mutter. “That, I believe.”

“Which ones?” he asks.

“People are saying you no longer like being on stage,” you say. It’s not the first time Donghyuck’s heard it. “That you’ve been burnt out from working all these years. And that you don’t care about music anymore.”

Donghyuck snickers. “That’s true, too.” He throws his head back, chugging on the cold beer. “I’m so over it. I don’t even care what happens after this.”

“Oh, Donghyuckie,” you whisper softly, eyes still glued to his face. “What has the limelight done to you?”

Donghyuck only shrugs, finishing off the rest of the cold beer, helping himself up and taking the plastic bag full of iced cold beer from the store.

“I don’t think that’s something you should be worried about,” Donghyuck says. You keep your eyes on him, so you’re looking up from where you’re seated and Donghyuck looks down on you. “It’s getting late. Wanna go drink at Nana’s?”

“Nana would kill you if she finds alcohol inside her house,” you say.

“I’ve snuck in about twenty bottles since I arrived last week and she hasn’t noticed,” he confesses.

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” you laugh.

Donghyuck freezes for a moment, watching you stand in between giggles. Mark said the same think a couple of weeks ago, but it doesn’t sting when you say it. You say it in laughter. Like it’s okay. Like it doesn’t scare you.

“My house is down the street,” you say, helping yourself up and standing in front of him. Donghyuck remembers. “I’ll call Nana and let her know you’re with me.”

A bark startles Donghyuck for a second. You and him turn to find a golden Labrador running towards where you stand.

“Aw, my baby’s here to pick me up,” you announce with the softest voice. The lab runs, almost dashes towards you, and Donghyuck is taken aback when it tackles him—not you—knocking the plastic bag off his hands and resulting to him landing his butt back to the pavement. “Pororo!” you shriek, not in surprise but with a tone of betrayal. “I’m your mother!”

Donghyuck hears you shriek, but laughs through it because the golden lab is hogging him, licking him all over as if he’d miss him all these years. “Oh, baby, you’re so cute,” he coos, cradling the dog by its face, looking up at you as the dog licks his face. “This is yours?”

You fight back a smile, but you lose immediately because your face breaks with a grin. “What has the limelight done to you?” you ask, the same question from earlier, but a different tone—teasing, nostalgic, like years ago.

The dog sniffs him all over and you stand there watching them.

“Can’t even recognize your own dog now?” you tease, walking so you could pet the dog and have him follow you. “It’s the puppy Nana got you a month before you left Seoul. You couldn’t bring him with you, and Nana couldn’t take care of him when you left, so I adopted him, pabo.”

“Pororo?” Donghyuck finally, finally recognizes. Pororo looks like he’s nodding, like saying thank God, you remembered me! The dog goes back to tackle him. “Oh, Pororo! My baby!”

You lead the way to your house, Pororo following after you. He watches you take several steps ahead of him. He feels dizzy watching the scene in front of him. Donghyuck understands what Renjun is talking about now.

Humans remember a singular aspect of an event from his or her past that a complete representation of the entire scene is reactivated in the brain like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together to create a vivid recollection. You’re the representation of his entire life in Jeju-do, a clear image before Haechan, and he’s fucking sorry he forgot about you all these years.

But that’s an apology you’d never hear from him. Instead, he watches you, taking a small step towards you, and decides he’ll allow his unsaid apology to be added on the long list of reasons why he can’t sleep at night.

Nostalgia comes in waves, they say, but why do you bring it to him like a hurricane?

Donghyuck could say that Nana is impressed with the drastic change of character in the span of six weeks.

She’s been treating him better these days; by “better”, Donghyuck means she’s been cutting off a few hours from work so he could spend more time at her home, guarding the hens and roosters that serve at her alarm clock and watering her plants from her small vegetable garden. She’s also been paying him, giving him a small envelope with cash and a small paper that resembled a payslip showing the number of hours he’d work for the week, and Donghyuck ignores the quick jump from his heart when he sees your signature at the end of it, affirming that the hours listed are accurate. Donghyuck takes the money, of course, after Nana threatened to beat him up because she’d be breaking Korea’s labor laws if he doesn’t accept it, and he keeps it all in a small box in his room, planning to show it to his members when he goes back to Seoul and brag about working like a normal civilian at the age of 23.

There is a pinch in his heart when he remembers his members. While Donghyuck has been working on (and failing to) sober up for an entire month, his members have not called nor texted him. He’d been reaching out, of course. Some of his members have been assigned solo projects and activities in the last month, and he ensures to congratulate them. All he’s gotten so far are the receipts that his messages have been read.

Donghyuck convinces himself that it’s probably SM that advised everyone not to give him a time of their day, that they probably think being away from work means disconnecting from everyone, too, that his members love him and also believe that he needs some time off from everything.

But the convincing can only do much. The convincing distracts him while he’s at work, or while he’s watering Nana’s plants, but it doesn’t do much at night. Still, after six weeks, Donghyuck is nowhere near clean.

He wakes up with a terrible headache every day (from lack of sleep or hangover, he’s not really certain), and his Nana has been oddly making hangover soup for breakfast. Donghyuck wonders whether you’d ratted him out or his mother had called her about it. Either way, she probably knows something’s up.

His mother had called him a few times now, Seungyeon, too, and it’s been casual. His mother’s voice always sounded like she’s walking on eggshells whenever she’d call, blurting a half-assed apology for not seeing him before he left and telling him she’d forgiven him and that she’s looking forward to seeing her in a few months. Seungyeon talks to him the most, almost every day, in short text messages and 10-minute calls on the weekends when she doesn’t have to worry about waking up early the next day. And she talks to him about the most random thing, nothing ever related to his obsession with drinking or the scandal, which makes Donghyuck feel better somehow.

Six weeks didn’t make much of a difference, not that Donghyuck was expecting any. The only thing that’s changed so far is that, he’s not as exhausted as he was in Seoul despite his shitty sleeping schedule continuously fucking up his already deteriorated mental health. He hasn’t been listening to songs for quite a while, and he’s been drinking every night. And if it means anything to him, you’ve been hanging out with him while he drinks.

In six weeks, he learns that you’re not much of a drinker. You don’t have many friends that you could really invite for a drink in a nearby pub or in a samgyeopsal restaurant. You’d mentioned that most people your age have all moved on to different places, spewing names that were once familiar to Donghyuck and telling him where they are now. Donghyuck is yet to learn why you had stayed in Jeju-do, not once stepping in Seoul, when the world off this island’s shores are much, much bigger than you think.

It’s two in the morning. You’d taken him home because he could barely keep his head up with the number of soju bottles he had downed, and he appreciates that you try to stay quiet when you put him to bed and leave, keeping the blinds closed because he’d told you once that the morning sunlight seeping through spaces between the curtains hurt his eyes. You’d left when Donghyuck’s barely awake.

His phone dings a notification. Donghyuck probably won’t remember so he reaches over, checking it and recognizing his mother’s name.

She sends him an article about the upcoming debut of NCT DoJaeJung, and Donghyuck’s seen it in the groupchat for some time now. Donghyuck isn’t even halfway down the article when she sends another one: Mark’s solo song.

She doesn’t add another message, and he sees her status change from online to offline in a split second, but she doesn’t really have to say anything else for him to understand.

Donghyuck’s dream has always been the spotlight.

Or at least, as he recognizes now, his mother’s dream for him has always been the spotlight.

Donghyuck always thought he loved making people happy and singing equally.

While people called him kind and a ray of sunshine, Mark’s always called him out for being a people-pleaser, reminding him that he doesn’t have to make sure everyone is happy with the choices he’d make, telling him he doesn’t have to feel the strong urge to please everyone. And Donghyuck never understood it until now, now that he’s wide awake and looking at his mother’s messages. She’s probably expecting a solo project for him, too, and she sends these things that make her happy, and she’s already expecting him he’d do it no matter what. Donghyuck’s mother is a good person; he’d look up at her and think to himself that when he grows up, he’d want to be as supportive as his mother, and don’t get him wrong when he says she expects him to do anything that’d make her happy. Because this is all Donghyuck’s fault, anyway.

With his desire to make her the happiest, he’s done everything he could to make her happy, even at his own expense.

The infamous Saturday audition at SM was something Donghyuck never thought about—not at the age of 13 when he had just gotten back in Seoul after five years of staying in Jeju-do. His accent has changed and he reckons he could have a good relationship with boys his age who grew up in the city. And as much as he loved performing, Donghyuck doesn’t like being criticized. He doesn’t like rejection, and he can’t bare the thought of adults telling him he couldn��t sing.

Hence, his initial answer to his mother’s proposal to visit SM Entertainment and give it a try was no. The only thing that had made him go, knees shaking and palms sweaty, was his mother’s words: “It’ll truly make me happy if you give it a try.”

She’d said it in many occasions, and Donghyuck’s given everything that’d make her happy a try. She’d never said a bad thing and even told him a few times that it’s okay if he doesn’t want to, but he does it anyway.

Donghyuck was afraid that she’d love him less if he didn’t make her happy. He was only thirteen, and his twenty-three now, and his biggest fear hasn’t changed: to be loved less because he didn’t make them happy enough.

So, Haechan blurts out the most random jokes when the cameras are on and initiates skinship with the member even if they abhor him for it and style his hair a different way, because it makes the fans happy. Haechan stays up learning the tune of the new song and recording himself in his phone for hours even after an entire day of physical activities, because it makes the producers happy. Haechan takes his friends and the younger members to dinner after a 16-hour flight from the west on the night of his birthday—his eyes barely open the entire time—because it makes them happy. Haechan plays the maknae role perfectly, even when at times he’s tired of it, because it makes the older members happy. Haechan continues to be a sunny and bright character even on days when he’s exhausted, because it makes his managers happy.

But the truth is, Donghyuck doesn’t like dyeing his hair. His hair’s gotten so unhealthy from dyeing it different colors last year.

Donghyuck feels awful sometimes, when his friends do not return his affection, but he plays it off, feigning hurt even when it actually does.

Donghyuck wants to sleep after a 16-hour flight.

Donghyuck wants to drink with his hyungs, too.

Donghyuck just wants to sing and write songs when he’s learned enough.

Donghyuck doesn’t want to be like Mark, or Doyoung, or anyone else.

Donghyuck wants Haechan to be… Donghyuck.

Donghyuck wants to be happy—in his own terms, by his own choices.

But how can he be happy when he’s always depended his happiness on the people he loves?

Donghyuck feels like a dead man walking.

You and Donghyuck are tasked to bring the harvested fruits at the farmer’s market in the early hours of Sunday.

It’s barely five in the morning, and the sun’s not even out yet, but you had forced him to sleep early the night before to make sure he’d accompany you to the market. (He didn’t sleep though; he lied awake until his phone rang and you’re calling from outside.) You’d driven the farm’s truck to get here, and Donghyuck can’t help but admire the way you hold the steering wheel with one hand.

Donghyuck helps you carry the boxes out of the truck, arranging them in front of his grandmother’s store. You had walked in while he carries the rest inside and Donghyuck hears you talk to Eunseuk, his Nana’s sales person who handles and manages their place in the public market.

“That’s awful,” Donghyuck hears you say as soon as he places the last of the boxes in a corner. “Can’t the mayor do anything about it?

Eunseuk sighs, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, it looks like the donation project Nana’s driven wasn’t enough. She barely made enough profit last quarter because she’d donated most of it to the project.”

“What is awful and what project are we talking about?” Donghyuck interrupts.

Eunseuk smiles sadly at him. “The clinic that Nana’s been proposing to the mayor for years now. The town’s mayor thinks it’s not going to be built this year.” Donghyuck’s never heard of it.

“The community has a lot of elderly people who live alone in Jeju-do,” you explain when you notice his curiosity. “Especially in here in the island, even more here in our town. Most people leave Jeju-do at the age of eighteen to find a better life in Seoul, which is ridiculous because there’s no place better than Jeju-do, and Nana thought it’d be great if she built a small clinic for the elderly nearby, that way they wouldn’t have to travel fifty kilometers to visit the nearest hospital. It’d be great if the elderly can have themselves checked for free and to have, if not all, most equipment they’d need.”

“How is that possible?” Donghyuck asks.

“Well,” Eunseuk starts. “First, we need the funds to actually build the clinic itself. Nana is halfway through the amount needed. The mayor’s children are doctors, and if he wants to keep winning the next elections, I’m sure he’d be happy to have them volunteer.”

“What about maintenance?” he asks.

“Good question,” you say. “And good thinking. I like it, you’re already thinking ahead, Donghyuck-ah. Anyway, the elderly is very much willing to do community service in exchange of the maintenance of the small clinic. And don’t worry, it’s not like Nana’s going to make them work like horses.”

“Services like crocheting products for the local market,” Eunseuk adds. “Food manufacturing—the kind that would allow them to make while sitting down, local farming, jewelry-making, and the like. Things we can sell in the market. You know how tourists are so keen on buying anything hand-made.”

“So, a clinic for the elderly built and maintained by the elderly?” Donghyuck sums up.

“Exactly!”

“How much are we looking at in terms of money?” He asks.

You chuckle. “If you’re grandmother wanted to ask money from you, she would have already. She has some kind of pride, you know.”

“Well, I’ll give it you and you tell her it’s an anonymous donation.”

“As if she’d believe that bullshit,” you answer. “Anyway, Eunseuk-eonnie, what do we do now?”

The older woman shrugs. “We’ll keep selling tangerines until we reach the goal, I guess.”

Donghyuck talks before he could think about it. “I can do something.”

You and Eunseuk look at him like you’d just seen a ghost.

“I don’t know what I can offer,” he says right away. “But I’ll… I think I can do something.”

“Donghyuck,” you say. “You can sing.”

“I am aware,” he jokes.

“No, you can sing,” you repeat. Donghyuck looks back at you. “You can sing, so I’m sure you can teach people how to sing.”

“And?” He doesn’t get it.

“It’s summer,” you answer. “Most kids are bored and are probably looking for something meaningful to do while they wait for school to start again. Teach kids how to sing and have their parents pay for it!”

Donghyuck thinks it’s a good idea. “And you can write.”

You freeze. “No.”

“Teach kids how to write and have their parents pay for it.”

“Over my dead body!”

“I will do it only if you do it.”

Eunseuk laughs, “Oh, this is good.”

“No, Donghyuck. I’m not a professional writer. I didn’t even go to college. I don’t have the credentials for it.”

“You don’t have to go college to be a writer,” he snorts. “Scott Fitzgerald didn’t even finish college.”

“Where’d you even learn that?”

“You told me when we were kids!” he answers, laughing. “Come on, Y/N. I’m sure Nana can find someone to do your job in the farm while we teach kids.”

“I don’t know, Donghyuck,” you sigh.

Eunseuk lightly slaps your arm. “Come on, young lady. Do it for the elderly.”

“Yeah, Y/N, do it for the elderly.”

The sparkle in your eyes and the smile on your lips tell Donghyuck you agree.

And so, the plan goes accordingly.

Donghyuck could say that Nana is more than delighted to learn that his delinquent and embarrassing grandson, who’s spent all this time pretending he doesn’t care, had decided to help out. You’d done the most part, of course— obtaining the permit from the mayor’s office and settling all the paperwork needed. All Donghyuck had to do was to help clean up and renovate his grandfather’s old office in the farm. Everyone else who had some free time helped because apparently, that’s what this community does. Donghyuck could probably get used to receiving help without him asking for it.

So, in more or less five days, his grandfather’s old office, which is about forty square meters, had turned into the community’s summer class headquarters. You and Donghyuck decided to call it Nana’s Music and Literature Classes. And with the help of Eunseuk and some of the workers, the word spread like news from the radio. In a week’s time, you and Donghyuck have over twenty student each. Mondays and Wednesdays were his schedule; yours were Tuesdays and Thursdays. Fridays were called Hyuckie and Y/C/N’s day—which means you and him would dedicate an entire day brainstorming and talking about your class’ progress.

The summer courses would take eight weeks to complete, and at the end of it would be a competition, in which the Mayor promised he’d give a very big reward for. Those who enrolled in Donghyuck’s classes would have a recital at the end of summer where the kids will hold a small concert for the town—tickets to be sold as part of the drive, of course—and the judges will be identified to select three winners. As for your classes, it will be a short story competition, and the winners will be announced on the night of the small concert, which Donghyuck is the best ending any summer could have.

The place is cramped, and Donghyuck’s never been more excited his entire life.

He’s gone to many places and met with many prominent people in this lifetime. But he’s decided that this is the most exhilarating day of his life.

The parents leave as soon as Donghyuck assures them that the kids will be safe and will be all set for pick up by 3 in the afternoon. You’re talking to the kids while he ensures that the room is cool enough for everybody. The room is filled with excitement that Donghyuck could feel inside him. He learned from the parents he’d met just a few minutes ago that the town doesn’t really offer things like this for children and that they’d have to send their kids to summer camp in the mainland if they wanted them to experience this, and the fact that you and him are doing this for a cause makes it even better.

Donghyuck views this like it’s not as big as the drives NCT had been doing, or the charity concerts he takes part in, or the money he donates to various causes, but to the people of the town, it’s bigger than anything they had ever known.

“Aigoo,” one of the parents cooed when she’d seen Donghyuck greet everybody outside. “Your grandparents have always been kind. They’d been the pillar of this small town for quite some time now. I’m glad you’re growing up a good man.”

You’d smiled at him when you heard that, and Donghyuck wonders if you also think he’s growing up a good man, because he thinks you grew up to be such an amazing, compassionate person.

“Hello, kids!” Donghyuck greets. Everybody says it back with the same enthusiasm, and despite having been in hundreds of shows with thousands of people in the audience, he can’t remember the last time a crowd made him feel alive.

Donghyuck hates being recognized.

When his career had just started, he thought that the greatest compliment was to be recognized. He thought that he’d measure his success with the number of people from the general public who could recognize him under a hat and with a face mask covering half his face. But in the latter years of his career, he’d learned the hard way that he hated being seen and being recognized.

There had been many happenstances in his job in which he’d just wish he was invisible for a moment. Anytime he’s in an airport, regardless it was for an event or concert overseas, or worst of it all, a vacation with his family, all Donghyuck wants is for people not to know who he is. In afternoon runs by himself, all he needs is a time alone and not girls following him and taking pictures of him. On days when he’s out with friends and family, all he hopes is peace. This comes with the job, Johnny would tell him whenever he’d get frisky and annoyed, but Donghyuck never really understood why his privacy is anyone’s business. Never really understood why he had to go through this when all he’s ever really wanted was sing.

Donghyuck hates being seen.

More than anything. Especially when he’s trying hard to hide. And he wishes he’s only talking about his physical appearance being seen. He hates that his grandmother sees through him but doesn’t say anything about it unless he opens up first. He hates that Mark, his best friend in the entire world, sees right through his walls and that all Donghyuck’s done is push him away and make him hate him even more. He hates that his father sees his pain, but doesn’t talk about it for some reason. He hates that you see him—all of him—but you don’t look at him with disgust or pity or anything of that sort.

It’s Friday, yours and his day, the second one since summer school’s started, and he’d started calling you by your childhood nickname again. You’d grimaced the first time and told him nobody’s called you that in a long time, but allowed him nonetheless.

The clock strikes six in the afternoon and the dusk had just settled in the horizon. You and him are sitting on the floor of his room, facing each other, separated by a small table, notepads scattered, ideas running a hundred miles per second.

“This is perfect,” you comment when you and him had finished planning out next week’s daily agenda. “The kids are going to love it!”

Donghyuck stays silent, eyes on you as you finally set your pen down.

“What should we have for dinner?” you ask, eyes still on the notepad. “Nana’s probably heating up some leftover galbi, but I think we should make some kimchi stew, too.”

Donghyuck hums. You look up at him. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I just had something in mind.”

You tilt your head. “Tell me.”

“It’s a question,” he says. “And if I say it, you’d have to answer.”

You think about it for a moment. Donghyuck almost takes it back. “Sure.”

“Really?”

You nod. “As long as you answer a question from me, too.”

Donghyuck pretends to think about it. “Can we set some rules?”

“It’s literally one question,” you snort. “Come on. Ask me.”

“No, ask me first,” he insists.

“You asked first.”

“No. Ask me first,” he repeats.

You scoff. “Fine. You have to tell me the truth, yeah?” A nod. “Ready?” Another.

Donghyuck holds his breath for a moment and you don’t say anything for about a minute, probably thinking the same as him: this is the only chance both of you are honest and open, might as well ask a question one wouldn’t answer on a normal day.

“How are you?”

He exhales the breath he’s been holding and nearly breaks down in tears when he hears the question you’d decided to ask. He’s sure you’ve heard of it all. Everything’s been all over the internet for the past two months he’d been in hiding in Jeju-do: the drinking, the nights in clubs and bars, the fights with the members, the cherry on top which is the scandal. It’d all spiraled into everything he was initially afraid of. The girl he’d met at the back of the club had sold him to reporters and had made up a story of how they’ve been in a sexual relationship for quite some time. The media had dug up stories of him being out of control in the streets when he’s shitfaced from all the soju he had and had posted tales of him asking multiple women to sleep with him whenever he’s drunk.

The agency sued everyone for making shit up, of course, but Donghyuck knows half of those are the truth. He has not been the best group member in a long time: always late in practices, grumpy and hangover during fan signs, lethargic during concerts, and fucking up performances. He’s lost himself, and he’s losing everyone in the process of it.

People ask him if he’d really had sex with someone at the back of a bar. They’d ask him why he never asked for help with his drinking problem. Comments from his Instagram would tell him to back off and just leave the group. Fans from calls and fan signs would ask him why he’d stop making covers of the songs he loved and why he hasn’t been on Bubble in a long period of time.

But nobody else had really asked him how he’s been aside from Nana, who he doesn’t have the heart to open up to.

“I—” He starts but swallows, breathing in. You wait for him. “I’m—I don’t really—I’m not sure if I can.”

You nod. “Take your time, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck reminds himself to breathe.

How is he? How has been holding up after everything that’s happened?

He’s lost his spark. He’s lost his love for music, his passion for the stage, the sparkle in his eyes. He’s losing the people he loves. He’s losing his friends. And he’s losing a battle with himself.

He’s—

“I’m, ” he tries again. “Y/N, I’m not okay.”

It pours like rain, his tears. He shakes when he cries and his chest is tight and it’s hard to breathe, but he keeps crying because it’s the only time he ever will. He sobs in pain and holds himself when his entire body shakes from the ache of it all.

He’s grieving, weeping, like how one would in a funeral, because how does he ask for forgiveness? How does he ask forgiveness from his parents and siblings? From his members? From his fans? From the staff and the people who’d brought him to where he is? How does he ask forgiveness from little Donghyuck when all he’d wanted was for him to grow up a good man?

You let him cry, and only reach out to hand him a handkerchief when he’s done. You don’t say anything. Instead you kneel and reach over to hug him from the other side. Donghyuck accepts your tenderness.

“I don’t have anything else to ask,” you murmur against his hair. “But I do want to say that you’re loved in ways you probably have forgotten already. You’ve probably been used to love that’s loud—screaming and flamboyant and beautiful and everything anyone would want—but you’re also loved quietly. In a small, serene room. In a way you’ve forgotten.”

“Thank you,” he says, sniffling, a little embarrassed now. “I’m sorry. I probably ruined the moment.”

You chuckle, pulling away, and Donghyuck’s heart does flips when you kiss the top of his head like you always did when you were younger. He doesn’t know why he remembers all of a sudden.

“Stop apologizing,” you reply. “There’s nothing to apologize about.”

“There’s a lot,” he admits. “I didn’t recognize you the first time I saw you. We did everything when we were kids, and I didn’t recognize you.”

“And it’s okay,” you assure, holding the top of his hand that’s resting on the small table. “I didn’t expect you to recognize me right away. You were worlds away from me. We forget people and that’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not. I promised to keep in touch, and I never did. I’m sorry.”

You nod. “You’re forgiven.”

Donghyuck sighs in relief. “I doubt, but okay.”

“Trust me.” He does. “Anyway, you were going to ask me something. You’re not allowed to ask the same thing because I’d just answer that I’m tired and I want to sleep. Nothing big happens in my life.”

Donghyuck smiles again. “Ready?” A nod. “Why’d you never leave Jeju-do?”

It seems like you didn’t expect the question because your face tells Donghyuck you’re surprised by what he just asked. You lick your lip and exhale largely, looking everywhere but his eyes. Donghyuck allows you to take your time, and you’re not running away so he’s assuming you’re thinking of an answer for him.

“I don’t have a dream,” is your answer. “My parents think it’s not normal. Because even they had already left the town and moved to a bigger place off the island. People think it’s impossible that I don’t have a dream, that I must want something in life, I just haven’t discovered it yet. And I’m twenty-three, I’m still waiting for my awakening, for dreams to find me, but it hasn’t. I don’t want to do anything in life but just… survive.”

Donghyuck only listens. “In high school, when we were deciding what to take up in college and which college we’d go to, I had nothing in mind. I didn’t want a career—not an engineer, not a teacher, not a doctor, none of those. I couldn’t think of anything. Writing is something that I love doing, but I really can’t see myself pursuing it as a career. I don’t want to end up hating it. I’ve always been convinced that I wasn’t specifically good at anything apart from that. I’m okay with all subjects at school, average grades and all, but nothing ever stood out for me. I never stood out. And I was okay with it for a reason I still don’t know. I was okay with not having dreams. College was the only reason for me to leave Jeju-do. There’s nothing else, therefore I’m still here. At twenty-three, I haven’t accomplished much, and if you want me to be all out and honest,” you sigh. “It’s… it’s starting to scare me.”

“What scares you?”

“That I haven’t accomplished anything yet,” you admit. “I’m not one to, you know, force myself to people and make them remember me. I wasn’t scared of oblivion. Until… these days, I’ve been asking myself, how are people going to remember me?”

Donghyuck nods, urges you to continue.

“Are they going to remember me as someone who helps out in your Nana’s farm because I had nothing to do?” you voice out. “Are they going to remember me as someone who brings all the deliveries to the farmer’s market when the staff is unavailable? Are they going to remember be as Eunseuk’s co-worker? Are they going to remember me at all?”

“Can I tell you something?” he asks but doesn’t wait for you to answer. “I know I’m not in the position to say anything about remembering you when I couldn’t recognize you the first time we met after a decade, but I remember you by the way I see cherry blossoms.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Is that a good thing?”

“We met in a puddle of fallen cherry blossoms in summer of 2006,” he explains. “I remember you by the way you admired flowers that fall off from its stem, by the way you loved fallen and broken things equally when they were perfect and when they stood still. I may have awfully forgotten you all these years, but the way I see cherry blossoms is the exact same way you see them.”

Donghyuck continues, “You know how they say we’re a manifestation of all the people we met, right? That we’re a mosaic of everything we’ve ever learned from them. To me, I remember you as the clear image of who I was before… before everything that’s happened. I remember you as someone helping me find my way back home.”

“Donghyuck,” you trail off. “That’s the… best thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Donghyuck smiles. “And so, what if you don’t have big dreams? Dreams are just dreams anyway. You don’t have to have one if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t have to struggle so much in order to live.”

“Do people know you’re this kind and profound?” you chuckle. “People should see this side of Lee Donghyuck.”

“Call yourself lucky you’re the only one,” he answers.

“What’s wrong with people seeing this side?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “I don’t think they’d want the boring kind. I think they like me better when I’m funny and over the top and a sucker for attention.”

“Well,” you click your tongue. “I like you either way.”

Donghyuck is barely twenty-three. And if he knows anything about falling in love, this might just be the moment he truly learns it.

You and him end up falling asleep on his bed. Donghyuck likes to think he doesn’t really remember how it happened. You’d told him you’d sleep in the hammock at his house’s patio, but he’d insisted to sleep in his room, of course. Reason? Mosquitoes, of course. Donghyuck said he’d sleep on the floor, taking an extra pillow, but you were already half asleep, moving so your body is right by the wall, safe and sound. You’d save the extra space for him to sleep beside you. Donghyuck likes to think he’d fallen asleep because he was exhausted and not because he felt safe around you.

It’s the longest sleep he’s had in a long time.

He wakes up at eight in the morning, the room already warm despite the air-conditioning system still switched on. You are no longer beside him, but he clearly hears your voice from outside.

Donghyuck gets up, going straight outside and finds everyone from the farm gathered around for breakfast outside his grandmother’s house. He’d forgotten that his Nana invited everybody for a scrumptious breakfast today, Saturday, and he wonders why neither you nor Nana herself had woken him up to help out.

Farmers and harvesters pass a plate to one another. A long table is set up in the middle of Nana’s driveway space, various of dishes laid out, and Donghyuck finds you holding two pitchers of tangerine juice, walking around to fill up the workers’ cups.

It’s Eunseuk who sees Donghyuck standing by the patio watching everybody move around.

“There’s our Donghyuckie!” she announces.

Everyone looks at him and greets him a good morning. Nana shouts his name and asks him to come over and eat some breakfast. You squint when you look at him, the sun blinding your eyes, but you smile as soon as he waves hi.

Donghyuck can’t help but think being recognized is not so bad after all.

Donghyuck spends the rest of summer like a kid.

Except he goes to work at Nana’s Music and Literature Classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, goes to the farm on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and spends his Fridays with you. He learns many things over the summer, especially about the community and the town itself. He meets more people as Donghyuck, Nana’s grandson who teaches children how to sing and who helps out in the farm two days a week. They accept him as he is, and he feels like seven again, meeting new people every day until they all remember him by his name.

Among the things he’s learned, he likes learning how your lips taste the most.

It was sudden, unplanned, the kind where he didn’t know he was doing it until he’s done it. You and him were ending a Friday session at your place that time, the place where he used to hide his drinks, and he was so elated that he wasn’t going home drunk for the first time since he arrived in Jeju-do. And he was bidding you goodbye. He’d leaned it like it was the most natural thing to do and caught your lips in his. You shrieked in surprise, unable to say anything, but tipped on your toes and gave him a second kiss before turning and running inside your house.

You didn’t talk about it, and Donghyuck felt like it was not something to talk about. You had voiced out you liked him in many occasions, and Donghyuck’s been relentlessly flirting with you since the night you fell asleep in his room. The signs were never mixed and the lines were never blurred. Donghyuck’s grown much closer to you more than anyone else in the world, and he’s been falling asleep in the safety of your arms these days. It was safe to say the kisses weren’t meaningless.

The night of his class’ recital comes quickly.

Donghyuck spend the entire two days practicing with each of his students while you were busy reading all of your students’ works and giving them feedback before they submit it to the Mayor’s office. You find him getting ready in his room, dressed in the only button-down shirt he brought from Seoul and a pair of slacks. Meanwhile, it’s the first time he’s seeing you in a dress that somehow matches the colors of his outfit.

“Looking great, handsome,” you say.

Donghyuck pulls you for a kiss. “Could say the same to you, beautiful.”

“Why are you so touchy these days?” you whine but lean back to kiss him again anyway. “Ready? One of the parents called and said his kid is already in the venue. They’re excited.”

Donghyuck nods, grabbing a jacket just in case it gets cold later tonight, and leads the way out. Nana is dressed in a pretty dress Donghyuck gave her for Christmas last year. Donghyuck drives to the venue and finds himself nervous for the first time in a long time.

You’d managed to convince him to sing tonight despite his persistent refusal.

“Come on, Donghyuck,” you begged, pulling him by the end of his shirt as he harvests tangerines. “The audience will love you!”

“They paid their tickets to watch the kids of the community sing, not me,” he argued. “And besides, I haven’t sung in like, four months. Who knows? I may have forgotten to sing already.”

“Bullshit,” you said. “Your Nana would want to hear you sing live.”

“She’s already heard me sing live many times,” he replied. “She’s been to many concerts.”

You tilt you head, a habit he’s grown to really like. “But I haven’t.”

Donghyuck had wanted to kiss the pout off your lips at that time. “Watch it from Youtube.”

“You don’t get many lines!” you said.

“So, you do watch my performances in Youtube, huh?” he teased. “Only in NCT 127 I don’t get so much lines because there are more members. Try to listen to NCT Dream.”

“Donghyuck!” you bellowed in frustration as you follow him around the farm. “Please!”

He stopped and turned, a little too late for you to step back because you’re already pressed up against his chest. “Okay.”

“Really?” you asked, voice lower because your faces were just inches apart—one wrong move and you’d be kissing in the middle of tangerine trees.

He nodded, purposely moving his face closer. “Only if you start reviewing for the SAT again and start sending your drafted college applications from your laptop.”

“Who told you to sneak in and open my files!” you gasped.

“I was checking if you’ve ever watched porn in your life and I found something better: your college applications.”

“I hate you, you know?”

Donghyuck chuckled, moving even closer to intimidate you but he hoped you couldn’t his heart hammering against his chest. “I know. Now. Do we have a deal? I’ll sing at recital night and you start reviewing for the upcoming SAT and send out your college applications when it’s time.”

“I’m—I’m not sure.”

Donghyuck let you go, you almost falling back but he held your hand before you could. “Then I’m not singing.”

“But Donghyuck!” He turned to leave while you scream behind him, pleading.

Ten steps forward and he finally got what he wanted: “Okay! I’ll do it! I’ll start reviewing and will send all the drafted college applications! I’ll do it!”

Hence, the singing stunt for tonight.

The event goes as planned.

The night starts with Donghyuck’s entire class singing their own rendition of a famous traditional song that the crowd truly loved. One by one, the kids would sing, with intermission numbers in groups in between, and by the end of it, it was Donghyuck’s turn.

The minus one track is ready and Donghyuck takes a deep breath as he walks up the stage. It’s smaller than any of the stages he’s been on—perhaps the smallest—and the lights aren’t as bright than the ones he’s used to. Big stages mean big lights, and if he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t see a single face when he’s on stage. The illuminations to ensure the fans would see them are blinding, beyond what people think. While his mother thinks his eyesight has gotten worse due to the long hours of playing APEX on his days off, Donghyuck believes it’s because of the blinding lights from the stage and everywhere he goes.

However, this stage has the gentlest lights he’s ever seen. The crowd is small, about two hundred people including their students, and from here, he can see their faces clearly. He stands not too far away, not to high, and he smiles when the crowd cheers when he reaches the middle of the stage.

“Hello, I’m Donghyuck,” he says on the mic. “I’m the teacher of the talented kids we watched this evening, and I can’t be prouder with how they sang their hearts out tonight. To show my gratitude, I also prepared a song for you.”

The crowd cheers again, your voice standing out as you stand right beside the stage, your phone already up probably recording him.

“I sang this song some time last year,” he continues. “This is Good Person.”

The instrumental plays and the crowd claps before he even starts. Donghyuck breathes, closing his eyes, and sings: “What’s going on today? Your face looks like it’s been crying. Did he break your heart? You’re the most precious person in the world to me.”

He hasn’t sung in a long time, and he barely practiced this song yesterday. Donghyuck, for some time before everything went to crumbles, felt scared going on stage. He felt as though he wouldn’t do well enough to deserve the applause and cheers, and he spent a lot of time doubting his own capabilities.

Whoever he is now, Donghyuck truly worked hard for it. At first, he only knew how to sing and it was the only thing he ever loved. And then he learned how to dance, how to stand like an idol, how to answer like a celebrity, how to have his “candid” photos taken, how to be a proper artist—even when he only wants to sing.

Standing here, now, in a small crowd, singing a song he wished was his own, he wished he had written, Donghyuck feels safe.

In Jeju-do, he feels safe. Donghyuck feels like he’s found his way home. The people he’s spent all these months with brought him comfort he’s never known—like coming home after a whole day of being pestered in the real world—and he knows that he’ll never find ease and serenity the same way Jeju-do had given him. The town took him in with open arms, like he’s not some idol who ruined their career for fleeting pleasure, like he’s not some person who’d forgotten about all of them. His Nana embraced him like he was seven again, like making mistakes is normal and that forgiving is easy when you love the person. You accepted him and taught him what falling in love means as though he was deserving of love and comfort.

The song ends with his voice dragging out the last words, his eyes closed: “I can only comfort you.”

When Donghyuck opens his eyes, the lights don’t blind him and the people he knows and love clap, cheering for him. It comes to him like pouring rain. And he allows himself to drench in it—the tenderness, the warmth, the love.

Because he deserves it. He deserves the love, therefore he takes, takes, takes, until he’s full of it.

Like many times in Donghyuck’s life, the ease and serenity end as quickly as it arrives.

You’d spent the night in his home, Donghyuck for the first time learned how to make love in bed. He’s had sex before, of course, but never like how you and him connected in his bed—moans and music of pleasure hushed by each other’s mouth, his honey-colored skin’s warmth pressed against yours, his lips and tongue tasting every inch of you. He’d said he loves you, and you’d said it back as you and him take each other.

This morning he wakes up without a headache, and he’s been waking up without one for a few weeks now. He usually wakes up with the sound of roosters from his grandmother’s backyard, or the sound of you and his Nana talking over your morning coffee. But today, he wakes up with the sound of his grandmother knocking profusely, seemingly frightened by the sound of her voice calling his name.

“Donghyuck-ah,” she shouts. “Please wake up. I don’t know what to do.”

You and Donghyuck get up startled, scrambling to put some clothes on and hurrying to open the door—only to find Nana on the verge of tears. Nana never falters, she’d only shown strength but Donghyuck finds her shaking. Nana doesn’t get the chance to answer because Joohyuk barges in, sweaty and catching his breath.

“The mayor’s security team is here,” he announces. “Let’s get going.”

“Go where?” Donghyuck asks, but Joohyuk is already pulling him.

The door opens, and Donghyuck finally realizes what’s going on.

They’d found him. Men and women with cameras shout his name—he recognizes a few from the conferences he’d attended—and flashes of lights and the stuttering sound of shutters devour him. He looks around and he can’t see you and he hears his Nana cry, and Donghyuck doesn’t understand what the fuck is going on, but he feels his legs give out. Joohyuk practically carries him to the SUV waiting outside their home.

Inside the car, Donghyuck catches a glimpse of the crowd—a crowd that looks like twice the amount of the people from the recital last night. He hears them screaming his name and he sees glints of neon green and posters as they pass by. His Nana, who sits beside him, cries and says she doesn’t understand why they’d found him. The mayor had specifically ensured that the town’s residents do not say a word about his visit way before he’d arrived and she’d done her best to protect him from the lights. He doesn’t say anything and only hugs her tight.

On the other side of Nana is you. You’re staring off the window, the fields far more interesting than what just happened, and you’re biting off the nails of your fingers and your legs wouldn’t stop bouncing. And you’re silent, and Donghyuck wonders why all of a—

Donghyuck doesn’t have to ask you to know.

You’d sold him off.

“I’m sorry,” is all you had to say when you and him are left inside the mayor’s office’s lounge. Donghyuck asked everybody to leave.

You’re sitting on the couch, eyes on the floor, while Donghyuck walks back and forth, angry. “I didn’t mean to.”

He stops walking right in front of you. “What do you mean you didn’t mean to post me on your Instagram? How could you possibly accidentally do that?!”

You keep your head low. “I—I forgot that it wasn’t on private and I didn’t have that many of followers to even be bothered by it. And one of our old friends commented and asked me if it was you—”

“And you said yes?” he enunciated. “You consciously, deliberately said yes?”

You start crying at this point. “Yes, and I’m sorry!”

“That’s a little too late now, isn’t it?”

“I just—”

“You just what? You want to play the girlfriend role so fucking bad?”

“Donghyuck, please, listen—” You get up and hold him by his arms but he backs off and rips his body from yours. “I just—I wanted the world to know that you can be kind and warm and you’re nothing like what the tabloids say—”

“So, you admit you purposely posted it!” he shouts. “What a fucking—”

“Yes!” you admit, still crying. “Because I can’t live knowing the world sees you differently when you’re generous and loving and amazing!”

Donghyuck takes a deep breath, hands on his waist, head tilted up so he can focus on the ceiling instead of the image of you crying. “You have no idea how the world fucking works, do you?”

“You always loved singing,” you reason out. “And the world shouldn’t take that away from you because of one mistake. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I didn’t think it through, but please understand my purpose.”

“You really have no fucking idea,” he concludes, looking down at you, right in your eyes and says: “How would you have any knowledge of what goes on outside of Jeju-do, anyway? You have never left this god damn place in your entire life and you know nothing aside from stringing words beautifully to get what you want. And you think you’re fucking cool for not having a dream and staying in an island, living your small-town girl fantasy, when in fact you’ve done nothing in life and people won’t even remember you. Why would you think you can make this decision for me? You’re just some girl who didn’t even go to college!”

“That’s enough, Donghyuck!” Nana interrupts.

Donghyuck turns and finds his Nana, Joohyuk, some of the Mayor’s security staff, his manager, and his Mother standing right outside the now opened door.

He looks back at you and you’re no longer crying. Your expression is just empty, like a light bulb burnt out.

Indeed, like many times in Donghyuck’s life, the ease and serenity end as quickly as it arrives.

They take the first flight to Seoul after successfully shooing the media and fans away. Nana travels with them, his mother deciding that it’s the best for now until everything calms down.

Donghyuck finds out during the flight that yours and his old friend from middle school had reposted the video of him singing from last night and it went viral in multiple social media platforms. Overnight, people had found out his location and the media had started interviewing people in the town. Despite the mayor instructing everyone not to say a thing, some had answered questions, even submitted entries on some forums about Haechan online.

His manager talks about how their PR team sort of thinks this might just be what he needed, says something about the locals of the town had said so many good things about him. He confirms that the post originated from your Instagram account and you had deactivated at this point and that they’re in the process of contacting your old schoolmate because the agency wants to press charges for invading his grandmother’s privacy and for bothering him on an unofficial schedule.

His mother holds his hand all through, and she offers a kind smile and kisses the top of his head.

Donghyuck cries like baby, and his mother only holds him, and perhaps that’s all he truly needs.

The crowd is just as bad when his plane lands. Donghyuck can barely see and hear considering the lights and people shouting his name. They take him to a separate SUV, away from his mother and Nana to keep them off the radar, and he sits in the car beside his manager.

“Here,” his manager hands him a phone as soon as the car starts moving. Donghyuck had forgotten his phone. It’s probably still in his room back in Nana’s house. People are still screaming his name. Donghyuck stares at his manager’s phone blankly. The screen shows he’s in a call with Mark.

Donghyuck’s hand shakes when he takes it. He puts the device over his ear and doesn’t wait for Mark to say anything.

“Mark-hyung,” he cries.

And cries. And cries. And cries. Until he arrives in SM’s headquarters and the manager has to take the phone away from him. Mark tells him he’s on the way to the headquarters with Renjun and Doyoung and that the others should be on their way after their individual schedules.

They arrive and immediately their staff take care of him like a baby, and he realizes that he’s back. He’s back. Right where he’s supposed to belong.

They take him to the PR teams office, and none of them ask how he’s doing and he’s spiraling again—already starting to think how he could please the staff and make them happy, not even an entire day of landing in Seoul and he’s already thinking about other people at his own expense.

Hence, Donghyuck makes a decision he’s never considered before.

While one of the PR associates discuss how he’s ranked number one in Naver’s most searched term, Donghyuck raises his hand.

They all look at him.

And finally, Donghyuck says: “Please get me a therapist. Please get someone who can help me.”

The room is clean and if Donghyuck’s being honest, a little too perfect for a therapist’s office. A tiny part of his fucked-up brain tries to convince him that they’d probably set him up for a documentary he’s not aware of to clean his image, so he looks around and tries to check if there are any cameras setup.

“Truly a celebrity,” Dr. Yoon says, which makes Donghyuck jump a little. The doctor stands from the door way, closing it as he steps inside. “Please, feel comfortable.”

Donghyuck thinks that’s a little impossible, but he takes a seat one of the single couches.

“The first thing that celebrities do in my office is look around for cameras,” the doctor comments, sitting on a similar chair across Donghyuck. “And I assure you that no amount of money can buy my integrity as a psychologist.”

“I’m relieved,” Donghyuck mumbles. “Hello, I’m Donghyuck.”

“Hello, Donghyuck,” the doctor greets; Donghyuck bows. “I had a quick glimpse of your situation from the form you filled out online. Are you feeling better today?”

“I guess,” Donghyuck shrugs. Dr. Yoon smiles.

“How about I ask questions and if you don’t want to answer, stay silent instead of lying to me?” He asks. Donghyuck sighs but nods. “And if you want to answer, answer as truthfully as you can, yes?” Donghyuck agrees. “Let’s start with simple questions.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

Dr. Yoon asks him many close-ended questions, to which Donghyuck had given him all the answers to, then proceeds to ask him what’s on his mind. The doctor’s notepad sits on the table between them, left open and blank even after asking so many questions.

Donghyuck is not really sure whether he’d done the right thing by seeking help, but he can’t keep hurting people just because he’s fucked up in the head. And he can’t keep hurting himself just because he can’t make the entire fucking world happy. He can’t keep drinking his insomnia away because he’s scared a doctor may tell him he’s fucked up in the head, which he knows already, he just doesn’t want it written in his medical records. He can’t keep fucking up his group’s image just because the alcohol doesn’t help his insomnia anymore. He can’t keep drowning himself in his sadness and the thought of disappointing so many people in his life—the people he left behind in Jeju-do, the members, his fans, the staff, his parents and siblings, his Nana, you.

If melatonin didn’t work, if the alcohol didn’t work, and if Jeju-do didn’t work, then perhaps a therapist is his best shot at getting better.

Donghyuck takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and begins.

“I keep thinking about how I can make everyone happy without sacrificing anything.”

The doctor finally picks up the pen and starts scribbling down.

Donghyuck keeps talking.

Donghyuck goes to therapy on Tuesdays and Fridays, and SM keeps his hiatus status active until Donghyuck decides to come back himself. It’s an agreement his parents, Donghyuck, and the agency settled while things are still chaotic.

The members are supportive of this, especially Mark and Taeyong. They’d send him cheerful messages every Tuesday and Friday, when they know that his session would begin. Sometimes, Jeno, Jisung, and Jaemin would pick him up and take him to a barbecue restaurant after. Donghyuck can’t remember how many times Renjun and Chenle had driven him to therapy and had waited for a couple of hours, only to take him to his favorite Chinese restaurant that serves the best hotpot. The older members have also driven him to therapy once or twice, with Jungwoo even signing up for therapy one time, and they’ve all given him love and tenderness—which Donghyuck accepted.

Donghyuck learns many things from Dr. Yoon. He learns that people pleasing isn't a mental illness, but it can be an issue that adversely affects how many people, with or without mental illness, relate to others. Most of all, people pleasers try to nourish other people without adequately nourishing themselves. Dr. Yoon called it Sociotrophy. He described it as the tendency to place an inordinate value on relationships over personal independence in response to the loss of relationships or conflict.

Those with sociotropic tendencies, wish to make other people happy, often at the sake of their own needs or values. While being warm, kind, and helpful are positive traits, they can result in strong feelings of resentment, anxiety, stress, and emotional depletion when they come at your expense.

People-pleasing, apparently, falls at the opposite end of the scale from autonomy. Autonomy places emphasis on independence whereas people-pleasers prioritize interpersonal relationships above all else. People-pleasers are often extremely empathic and attuned to others’ needs. A people-pleaser therefore tends to pursue intimate, affectionate, and confiding relationships. These people have a strong desire for external validation and avoid, or are sensitive to, situations where conflict may arise. They will go above and beyond to avoid displeasing others out of fear of diminished social acceptance.

This behavior can have detrimental effects on a person’s self-worth and self-esteem. A never-ending pursuit of approval, a desire for acceptance, and a sense of validation that arise from others happiness often result in a negative self-image. The person is likely to feel unworthy, powerless, or resentful, which may result in a lack of self-care.

The way Dr. Yoon had described it basically sums up Donghyuck as a human being.

He also learns that Sociotropic tendencies are often associated with mental health disorders such as anxiety or depression, which finally gave them Donghyuck’s diagnosis: clinical depression, also known as major depressive disorder abbreviated as MDD.

Clinical depression is a chronic condition, but it usually occurs in episodes, which can last several weeks or months. Dr. Yoon says one would likely have more than one episode in a lifetime. Donghyuck had asked him what was the difference between MDD and depression as it is.

Dr. Yoon explained that it’s normal to feel sad when you’re faced with difficult life situations, such as losing your job or a relationship. Some people may say they feel depressed during these situations. MDD is different in that it persists practically every day for at least two weeks and involves other symptoms than just sadness alone. It can be confusing because many people call clinical depression or major depressive disorder just “depression.”

Dr. Yoon also blabbered about chemicals in his brain that, well, Donghyuck really doesn’t understand much. All he knows at this point is that the treatment involves some medication and most specially psychotherapy. Apparently, studies show that the combination of these treatments is more effective than either of them alone.

Donghyuck has been investing a lot of his time in psychotherapy. His normal sessions were every Friday, thirty minutes to a maximum of an hour each. Like how his prescription doses went up, he also requested his psychotherapy sessions to be more frequent, hence Tuesdays and Fridays, minimum of one hour a session, maximum of an hour and a half.

Donghyuck likes to think that over the course of eight weeks, he’d gotten a little better. It turns out that being honest with your doctor means you’d get prescribed the right pills to take to help you fall asleep. No wonder the melatonin pills he’d taken didn’t work in the long run; he was taking the wrong ones and the wrong dosage—just like how he’d been looking for happiness in the wrong places.

From today’s session, Dr. Yoon asked him if he could talk to his mother about how he’d felt for so many years—the pressure, the urge to do whatever pleases her, the comparisons with other members, everything. Hence, Donghyuck finds himself knocking on his parents’ room.

He’s staying at their home during his hiatus. He reckons it’s the best time to speak with her as his father and the kids are out for work and school.

“Come in, Donghyuck-ah,” she says softly from the other side. He opens the door and finds his mother writing something in her journal. “You need anything, baby? Do you want to eat?”

He shakes his head and walks towards their bed, sitting on its edge. His mother puts the pen down and sits beside him. “Something wrong?”

“Eomma,” he says in the softest voice. “Can I sleep here?”

The question brings tears to his mother’s eyes. She nods and leads him to bed, Donghyuck lying on his side and his mother cradling him from behind. He looks like he’s thirteen again, the day before the audition at SM, young and anxious about what the next day would bring, and his mother seems like she’s never aged a day, still determined and only wants the best for her children.

Donghyuck can feel her crying.

“I’m sorry, Donghyuck-ah,” is all she says.

And Donghyuck knows deep in his heart that even before she’d uttered her apology, he’s already forgiven her.

Haechan comes back right before Chuseok.

NCT Dream is invited to perform at a music festival held in the Seoul Olympic Stadium alongside many other artists. When news broke that this would be Haechan’s come back stage, the ticket sites went crazy—crashing every second because everybody wanted to get tickets to see the most-awaited comeback.

Over the course of seven months of Donghyuck’s hiatus, many things have changed. He gained more fans in the latter parts of the hiatus after the world learned his life in Jeju-do. He’d gotten a new piercing in his cartilage, which the fans love, but only Donghyuck probably understands what it means. Old videos of him going on stage went viral years later, the world seeing how talented and passionate he truly is. Clips of him randomly singing without autotune circulated for quite some time, and his fondness of children and respect for the elder have been the talk of the KPop industry for the last months or so, calling him the most well-mannered idol. The scandal had not been erased from history, of course; some people still hate him for it. Some of his old fan sites did not return to support him, and if we’re talking about old Donghyuck, he’d probably be pretty bummed about it. He’d probably start compromising his privacy to give them a glimpse of his life off the stage to get them back.

But the sessions with Dr. Yoon have been working well, because Donghyuck doesn’t really care about pleasing the entire world anymore. Donghyuck thinks that as long as there’s a good number of people supporting him and loving him for who he is—as a person and as a singer—then he’d be okay. He didn’t have to make the entire planet roar his name.

The dress rehearsals are done by the time the clock hit four in the afternoon. The members argue where to go eat. Jisung announces he’s going shopping for a new pair of wired headphones because he lost his on the way to the stadium, to which Renjun says he’d go with him. The others decide to go eat with the staff, some opt to go home and rest so they’d be ready for the next day.

Donghyuck decides to go buy the book that Johnny recommended him: The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. He’s told that the book is about a boy growing up, and that it might strike his thoughts if he’s up to reading a children’s book meant for adults.

Hence, Donghyuck finds himself going through shelves and sections of children’s book after picking up The Little Prince and wondering if Gyeom would want to read any of these.

You see, Lee Donghyuck is not much of a believer of fate. As he’d say before, his career didn’t happen by fate because it was all his mother doing all the hard work. But what are the odds of him choosing to visit this exact book store at this exact moment over elsewhere and another time?

And what are the odds of him finding you leaning against the wall in the corner of the store, hair longer than the last time, nose red and body bundled up in layers of clothes, a book in your hand as you read through it?

Donghyuck stops, stares at you, as if he’s waiting for you to look up from the book, and thinks about how much he’d missed you all this time and how much he’d regretted ending things with foul, unacceptable words. He thinks about remembering you anytime he sees tangerines and flowers around the city. He thinks about the odds of finding you again and again in this lifetime. He thinks about the flowers only blooming as soon as the butterflies have left, missing their timing, and how they bloom again next spring, hoping that this time, the timing is right.

He thinks about you in silence. He thinks about love hiding in the corners of his chest, convincing him he’ll get over it—he’ll get over you. He thinks about his dreams.

A few people pass by the space between you and him. The distance is about three meters. It’s silent for the most part.

Donghyuck is not much of a believer of fate, and you look up to prove him otherwise.

It’s only then that Donghyuck takes a really good look on you: new hairstyle, backpack slung in one arm, a student ID badge hanging right below your chest.

“Y/N!” A girl whisper-shouts from behind fDonghyuck. “Have you found the book?”

You don’t tear your glance away from him, but you nod and say, “Yeah. I’ll go check it out and I’ll meet you outside.”

The other girl doesn’t notice him and proceeds to leave. You take two, three, five, seven steps, and you’re right in front of him.

“Hi, Donghyuck-ah,” you say in the softest voice as soon as you’re close enough.

Donghyuck wonders whether this is just a dream or if he’d started hallucinating you because of the medicines he’s been taking, but then he catches a whiff of your scent, and Donghyuck believes.

Donghyuck believes in fate. In forgiveness. In healing. In love. In finding one’s way back home.

END

author's note: PLEASE tell me what you think of this in the comments or reblogs. I'd also appreciate if you send me you favorite line here. Thank you so much for reading until the end!

optional as always: TIP ME HERE.

679 notes · View notes

fushipurro · 4 months

Text

In the Shadows of Love

Chapter 4 - Debut

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, depression, insecure/intrusive thoughts, angst, mentions of alcohol

☆ Word Count: 7.3k

The day you’ve been dreading has come at last.

The week leading up to now has been miserable to say the least, with one thing happening after another. Not only that, but your sleep has been suffering as well. A few times you struggled to keep your eyes open, and then other moments you powered through the day only to stare wide-eyed at the ceiling begging for sleep to come.

You can only hope the few hours of sleep you did manage to get will be enough for the day to come, and that the bags under your eyes aren’t too noticeable. It’s one thing to be a regular model, but another to handle the business side of it as well. But after today, you’ll have the respite your body craves.

When morning arrives, you take a nice long everything shower to prepare yourself for the day ahead. The rest of your looks are to be handled by professionals on site – makeup included. Hence why all you need to do is come dressed in the epitome of casualwear. You’ll be changing into a dozen outfits throughout the shoot, so no sense in wearing the fanciest your closet as to offer.

A message appears on your phone from the taxi service waiting on you outside. With your purse in hand, you kiss Tsumiki goodbye, and make your way out the building. It’s odd walking around at this time of day, where normally you’re sound asleep while others move to and fro with their lives.

You get to your ride without issue – aka, no neighborly conversations – and settle into the backseat of the car. From there, you keep your eyes to the world around you, silently screaming the longer it takes to get to your destination. At this point you just want to get it over and done with to get back to the sanctity of your home for some much-needed relaxation.

You pity the driver for having to put up with the incessant bouncing of your legs and the tapping of your fingers, but until the day is over, you won’t know peace.

It all feels so much more real once the site of the shoot comes into view. It’s a luscious garden park, packed to the brim with various scenery. You’re able to see the crew hard at work in setting up the area, and even more as the car comes to a stop for you to make your entrance, truly setting the day in motion.

For a while, you weren’t sure who you were even going to be working with today. A part of you hoped it might be Mei Mei, or one of the other female models to help you feel more at ease. Girls stick together, being the motto you cling to, hoping the other party would feel the same about you. You’re told however that you’ll be modeling with none other than the Satoru Gojo.

A legend in this field, a star above them all, like Polaris of the northern skies.

He’s a man with perfectly white hair – which seems like a recurring theme when you look at Mei Mei or her younger brother from the same company – and eyes that put the brilliance of sapphires to shame. The rest is all in his genes and the physique he’s sculpted over years of hard work and discipline.

You’ve been a long-time follower of his on social media, amazed by how effortless he makes modeling appear. His high energy, charismatic personality he shows off online is another appeal. A social butterfly, an extroverted type you sometimes wish you could be like.

By all means, that should make you feel better about working with him today, but you’d argue it makes it that much worse.

Does meeting your heroes ever go well for anyone?

Is it worth potentially ruining the image you’ve cultivated in your head from their online presence versus the actual knowledge you get from meeting them in public?

At the end of the day, who knows? You’re about to find out one way or another, so let’s hope he’s one of the good ones.

They chose a beautiful venue for the magazine, as the park is heavily adorned in trees showcasing the vibrant warm colors autumn has to offer. The main shooting area is set around a large fountain where you can make out all the crisp leaves floating like petals in the spring. Close to the park is a spot in town filled with more historic buildings, works of architectural genius you admire like it’s a game of The Sims. It makes the perfect location for the looks you’ll be showing off.

Your eyes eventually land on none other than your boss/agent/manager – whatever you want to call him, Kento Nanami.

He’s been there for you since day one, acting in whatever role he needs to be for you to succeed in the business. At his side are a few other men and women, nearly all familiar faces from the meetings you’ve had or profile pictures, courtesy of their email accounts.

You approach the group with your hands folded neatly in front of you, trying to discretely rub away the clammy texture of your palms. Handshakes are inevitable, so you might as well be prepared now.

The blond calls out your name as you step closer, “Glad you could make it, we’re almost ready to begin.” His face remains calm, appearing professional as ever, but there’s a hint of a smile surfacing at the edges of his lips.

One of the men in the group stretches his hand out for what you’ve been expecting, and you cautiously oblige. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person,” he states with your name punctuating his words. “I’m Masamichi Yaga, Satoru’s manager. We’re looking forward to working with you today.”

You have to say, while he seemed overly serious and admittedly scary online, and even now in person with his rigid stature, it’s different up close. Seeing him here, shows you that – while serious, yes, there’s a friendly undertone to the man. A panda, one might compare him to. Still classified as a bear with the claws to show for it, but one you could hug and come out unscathed.

You manage to get your words across through shaky breaths, a semblance of your composure, “Thank you, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Satoru hasn’t arrived yet, but you should go and get started with the makeup artist,” Kento informs you. There’s a disgruntled tone in his voice at the mention of the model, and it reminds you of how he sounded during that meeting you were late for at the start of this all.

It’s not often you hear your boss annoyed with someone; another reason you feel lucky to work under him. He’s always fair to you and others, and never the type to berate his fellow employees. Overtime is few and far, one that he has little tolerance for.

“Right away, Mr. Nanami.” You bow to the group, taking your leave with an anxious strut. Once you’re far enough way, you let out the breath you’ve been holding, regaining yourself with a quick calming exercise.

Getting your hair and everything done happens to be one of your favorite parts of modeling. Your biggest task is merely to sit in a chair in silence, letting the artists work you from a blank canvas to a completed piece.

What could be better for someone socially inept?

This wasn’t the usual artist that does your work, so either they’re with the partner agency or some other sponsor judging by the matching brands in their setup. You’re tense as they work, eyes closed and all, with a sense of dread bubbling in your gut.

A pat on your shoulder startles you after some time, jolting you in your seat much to the artist’s dismay. “Hey there! You must be Nanamin’s protégé,” he chirps while bright blue eyes stare eagerly into yours, piercing what feels like straight to your soul.

“Protégé?” you question with a meek sounding tone.

He doesn’t satiate your curiosity on the matter, instead opting to introduce himself, “I’m Satoru, it’s nice to meet you.” The man smiles, taking a seat in the chair next to yours confidently.

“Likewise, looking forward to working with you,” you respond, your eyes unmoving from his direction.

His makeup artist comes over and begins their work, though there’s not much of anything that needs to be done, given how naturally blessed he is in the looks department. There’s not a single speck or blemish that tarnishes his skin, so the most he gets are a few highlights here and there and something to add a bit of a sparkle around his celestial bodies for eyes.

It wouldn’t surprise you if each had their own name depending on his level of vanity. Perhaps Sirius and Regulus would be most suited for him, in your opinion.

Then again, you can also name about four other blue-burning stars off the top of your head. But, since only two lie in front of you, you’ll just have to go with the ones that outshine the rest.

It haunts you that one of your first thoughts meeting him is one built on envy – annoyed that you feel the need to compare your appearance to him. There are a dozen reasons you chose to become a model, none of which involved the crippling self-loathing that comes when it starts to feel like a competition.

May the prettiest one win, some might say.

You wonder that if in another life, if you were born with all the features you desire and deem attractive, if you would be better off. Able to live life without fear of not being enough, never having to second guess yourself in the mirror you so wish to send your fist through on a daily basis.

Would you be happy then?

Would you finally be loved?

Suddenly, your vision meets cyan once more. Shit, how long have you been staring?

“You ever been on a magazine cover before?” he asks, oblivious to the turmoil you face in your head.

Of course not. “No, I haven’t. This is my first time.”

He makes a noncommittal hum in response, and you feel his gaze turning intrusive by the second. Not in a creepy way – no, more like he’s reading you, thinking hard about something unknown to you. “That’s surprising for a protégé of Nanamin… What do you normally do then?”

You aren’t sure whether to question his continuous use of that nickname for your boss or why he believes you to be some apprentice to him, but for now you choose to ignore it, answering, “Commercial modeling, but I do more marketing than anything, really.” Your tone makes it appear as though it’s unimpressive, and sometimes you do feel that way. “More ‘behind the scenes’ work.” You add, shrugging nonchalantly after.

“Wait till this magazine drops, you’ll be getting this many new calls,” he drawls with a show of his hands to emphasize his point.

Your eyes drift away with a subtle roll to them. Yeah, we’ll see about that.

Of the many reasons you became a model, fame and fortune were never the goal either. Sure, being popular enough to maintain a stable influx of opportunities is favorable, but you don’t desire runway status. Cheers to the ones that do want it, but that isn’t you.

Satoru doesn’t push more conversation after. In fact, about a minute later he’s up and out of the chair, all finished with the minimal detailing necessary to make his features pop.

Your artist continues their work for a while after, with a hair stylist now with you as well, and only then were you permitted to finally go and get changed in one of the areas provided for the models.

Of everything today has had to offer so far, the scariest bit has to be the clothing rack, by far. As expected of a high fashion company, what lies on the hangers are nothing short of expensive. One piece of fabric alone costs about as much as a few months’ worth of rent, if that.

You were fitted into the first of several outfits to come, terrified the whole way through if something were to potentially rip and have to come out of your own pocket as punishment. While that’s never happened, there’s a first time for everything. Please don’t be today.

On the way out of the room, you make it your forefront thought to avoid the mirror calling out to you like a siren lulling you to your demise. All it would take is one look to have you ensnared, or rather petrified.Turned to stone by your gaze alone, picking apart every little detail to ruin whatever façade you try and hold for the cameras that await.

Satoru is already at the fountain when you arrive, waving as you fall into his orbital pull. His signature sunglasses do little to hide the glimmer of light behind them, but the smile plastered across his face burns equally bright to compensate anyways.

“Don’t you look nice?” he muses, letting his shades fall further down the bridge of his nose while his head angles down. “That outfit suits you quite a bit.”

Under normal circumstances, a blush might try to form along your face. Maybe if it was Toji –but then we’d be getting off track. The main feeling that plagues you in this moment is that of being out of place; a rock amidst a pile of a perfectly cut diamonds.

Pluto, blending in amongst the other eight planets, yet still shunned if we’re keeping to celestial themes.

At best, you might compare to an opalite crystal. Pretty – yes, but ultimately glass at the end of the day. Your hues can be manipulated, carefully crafted to ascertain a certain degree of beauty. But all it takes is one wrong move to scratch or shatter you and then all that effort was for naught.

A pile of shards no more worthy than dust.

“Nanamin!” The man in front of you bellows out with joy, snapping you from your solemn reverie. He throws his arm over the blond’s shoulders in a casual manner, eliciting a groan from the latter. “It’s been too long! Why don’t you come around more often?”

“It’s been one week, Gojo.” His response is monotone, and his arms are kept folded in front of his chest as he tries to maintain an air of indifference.

“Aww, come on, don’t be like that.” Satoru visibly frowns, puffing out his cheeks.

Choosing to ignore more of his bantering, Kento’s attention turns to you while simultaneously addressing the other, “If you’re both ready, we can get started.”

The moment of truth.

You give him a thumbs up and a forced smile better described as a fine line. Kento shrugs himself off Satoru, stepping close enough to place a hand over your shoulder with a reassuring grip. “Try to relax, and do your best,” he nearly whispers with a fatherly tone melding within his words, “You’re more than ready for this.”

And with that, the photoshoot officially begins.

With a few calming breaths later and those words of assurance playing back in your head, your façade is up and at the ready the moment the cameras start flashing.

Pose after pose, you work in tangent with Satoru while the crew fires off their instructions for the perfect photos. His playfulness is still apparent ─ albeit reigned in. It’s now more in a way that comes across as him wanting to get a reaction out of you. Like he knows you have a proverbial mask on, playing it off as stoicism. Maybe those eyes see more than you realize.

Of course he’s not only good looking, but an exceptional model to match. He doesn’t need to try so hard to give the people what they want. Compliments are showered upon him, yet narcissism doesn’t appear to be a high point in his personality when it all-too-easily could.

Rather, he seems more uncaring to the simple words of praise. Finding more joy in doing whatever feels best in the moment with unrivaled confidence.

You don’t mean to sound bitter and cold. Jealousy just so happens to be an emotion so deeply rooted that if you try to pry it away, it would be no different than grasping a bed of thorns with the palms of your hands. A weed that you can never fully eradicate.

All you want is to feel happy ─ pretty, not so much wanted as a desire to be enough.

It’s easy to be affected by the words of others. For every bit of kindhearted justification you hear, it’s one step towards helping you be able to tell yourself the same things. To get to a point where you can finally feel satisfied with yourself. To never have to ask if you’re even worthy of being alive when you feel so lacking.

That’s why when the cameras come on, you envision exactly what it is you so desperately wish to be. A picture speaks a thousand words. If so, then you hope the ones from today tell the story you dream about in your head each night as you drift away to sleep.

Modeling for you was always about finding that confidence in yourself. To see yourself in the eyes of others, proving that by having this title in life, you can make it a reality that perhaps yes, you are pretty.

You can be anything and everything you want to be.

The action carries on throughout the day with intermittent breaks in between outfit changes and other touchups to your hair and makeup. You have your moments of conversation with the marketing team and crew, sometimes making more effort to discuss what needs to be done over actually utilizing the short bit of time to rest and recoup.

Contrary to what might be popular belief, as a model ─ you aren’t there to stand and look pretty for the cameras. You’re not there to stand for a total of five minutes and then go home rich. It’s dedication and hard work to present the perfect image of yourself for the rest of the world to see.

You may be there waging one-sided wars in your head the entire time, but you still put your all into what you do. Perfection is a journey with an impossible destination, but nevertheless, it’s still the path you’ll traverse.

At the end of the day when the skies morph into a lovely collage of orange and pink hues and the final few photos are taken, you return to the dressing room to shed the covers of imitated beauty. Before that happens, you make the mistake of letting the mirror pull you in, too exhausted to otherwise fight the Damocles sword that hangs right there waiting.

The reflection in the glass is indeed you, but at the same time it’s not. A stranger in your own skin. More likely what the cameras outside were capturing away. The performance you gave that stemmed from a number of fantasies for all the “what if?” life scenarios.

She’s beautiful, you think, admiring the glow of her skin from the sheen of sweat.

Like lipstick on a pig, another half of you cackles, burning holes in all your self-deemed imperfections.

The makeup’s not bad like you originally thought it might be, but it’s also not your usual preference, and greatly overdone. Almost like an attempt to paint you anew. A coverup to an already stained canvas.

Nothing you do is ever enough to vanquish the perpetual tempest that encircles your mind, trapping you beneath torrential thoughts of insecurities. Telling yourself in the mirror you’re pretty doesn’t do anything either, not when you can’t bring yourself to believe it. To you, that’s just one big lie and you can’t stand liars.

It’s even worse when the clothes come off and it’s now just you in your natural form. A cruel reminder to the lengths you have to go to feel redeemable. Even if you told yourself earlier that luxury isn’t you, it sure does a good job at making you feel like someone you’re not. Sometimes that’s a refreshing change.

You eventually finish changing back into the clothes you arrived in, exiting the room with your phone in hand. Your sanctuary awaits, and you’re more than ready to get back to the only place you find solace in. You’re quickly reminded that fate is a fickle thing, always weaving you in a web of red string when you hear the calling of your name. The sound draws your attention upwards to the ever-cheerful man skipping your way.

“Yo!” Satoru waves to you gleefully. “What do you think about going out to celebrate our first gig together over some drinks?” he inquires with expectant eyes that border on looks a puppy might give.

Confusion bubbles up, mixing with your avoidant nature to make a cocktail poisonous only to you if you allow it. Why would someone like him want to go out with someone like you?

“That’s okay, I’m sure you must be tired after today,” is what you respond with. Not a total lie, but it gives you a way out even if it means drinking from the tainted cup of emotions.

“Nonsense, I could keep going for hours!” he refutes with never faltering amusement. “Think about it!” he further begs, with the front of his hands pressed together. “I invited some others too, so it’ll be a whole group of fun!”

Why did I even agree to this…

You’ve been following slightly behind Satoru for several blocks on aching feet from a day of standing in heels. Trying to keep up with his long-legged strides proves difficult, but not impossible. The sunset skies have dimmed, now replaced by the neon lights of the downtown area. It has its beauty, but it can’t compare to the lights of the natural sky.

He stops abruptly in front of a brick building, almost causing you to crash into him. “We’re here!” he cheers, all while you’re immediately taken aback by the sign hanging above the doorway: Star Plasma.

Toji’s workplace.

Your neighbor’s been on your mind sporadically throughout the day. Between Kento’s words and that of Toji’s from the week prior, they’ve helped to keep you afloat in a river of self-loathing.

Inside the club, you’re met with various velvet-lined booths in every direction and a crowd of people filling the space. At the center lies a large, oval-shaped bar too swarmed with patrons to make out if Toji is among the ones working this very night.

The atmosphere and overall design of the place bear a resemblance to that of a strip club, although it lacks the trademark poles on stages deemed for entertainment. That section is occupied with instruments currently not in use. There are some other rooms in the back, but their designated uses remain unknown at this time.

“Over here!” Satoru calls out your name, reminding you of why you’re here to begin with.

He leads the way back to a booth where two others sit in waiting. One is man heavily adorned in ink from what you can make out. His long, silky black hair is half tied up in a bun that reveals the large piercings settled in his ears. The other is a woman with mid-length brown hair and familiar shades of purple beneath her eyes, evident of a lack of sleep you know all too well. She nestles a glass in her hand, its contents another mystery to you.

The two of them you recognize from posts on Satoru’s instagram, but anything more eludes you as their profiles are set to private.

Satoru scoots in next to the man and their lips greet each other. “Who’s your new friend?” The black-haired one questions, looking you over with a curious eye. You aren’t sure how to act, and thus are awkwardly standing at the edge of the booth.

“The model I was working with today,” Satoru introduces with a telling of your name. His hands raise to gesture to those at his side. “This is Suguru, my boyfriend, and our third wheel, Shoko!”

“Your third wheel wants another drink, Satoru,” she scoffs, flashing an empty glass in front of his face. “These are going on your tab for being late, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Satoru waves her off, placing his focus back on you. “What do you want to drink?”

“Oh, uh–“ Now you look even more awkward than before. “I’ve never had alcohol so I’m not sure…” Your voice lowers gradually by the end of your sentence.

The three look to you with equal levels of shock. “Leave it to me then!” He beams, pressing a fist to his chest. He slips out of the booth making his way to the bar.

You watch him leave before feeling a hand tugging at your wrist. “Come on, sit down!” Shoko beckons, urging you to sit at her side. You take her up on it, fidgeting with your hands underneath the table to ease the nerves. It’s been years at least since you last had a sit-down like this outside of work. How are you supposed to act?

“It’s nice to meet you,” Suguru breaks the ice with Shoko following in turn with the same greeting.

Your body involuntarily tenses up as you become aware to how their eyes are examining you. “Y-yeah, nice to meet you as well.”

“Satoru doesn’t typically invite coworkers out, have you two known each other for long?” the man interrogates, though his demeanor is rather friendly. If anything, there’s more of a protective hint to his words.

While shaking your head, you reply, “No, we just met earlier today.”

“Word of advice ─ run,” Shoko snickers, earning a disapproved glare from Suguru. “I’m kidding,” she follows up, drawing out her words playfully. “But seriously, don’t be afraid to tell him ‘no’ to anything you’re not comfortable with. He can be a lot to someone not used to him, but he means well.”

Now this is a perfect example of one of those girls you know you can rely on to have your back. You don’t have any issues with Satoru, but it still makes you happy to feel like someone’s looking out for you.

It wasn’t long after that Satoru returns, skillfully balancing several drinks in hand. Sake for Suguru, whiskey for Shoko, a very colorful ─ no doubt fruit flavored cocktail for himself given the smell, and lastly, a margarita for you. The group demands a small toast “To friendship!” Satoru remarks before your glasses all meet in the middle.

One by one, they each take sips from their respective cups while you’re more occupied with swirling the thin straw around your drink. The smell is…unique, more pungent than anything. If you close your eyes, it almost smells like lemonade which you can enjoy, until that first sip hits your tongue.

Then it’s just harsh and bitter instead of sour or sweet.

The three watch in earnest at your first step into the world of alcohol, remembering their own experiences while your face scrunches up in disgust. Shoko pats your back soothingly to help you through the coughing fit as it took everything in you to not gag and embarrass yourself.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the taste the more you drink,” Satoru muses. But honestly, how does anyone like this stuff, let alone to come back for more? “I invited Nanamin too, but he turned me down by saying he’s busy like always,” he adds with an obvious pouty face.

Shoko sighs, “Did you forget how much of a workaholic he is?”

“Speak for yourself, but you still came!” he retorts with a simpering smile.

She then points an accusative finger at him. “I’m not turning down alcohol, especially when you’re footing the bill.”

“Oh, is that right?” he sarcastically replies, “Don’t act like you don’t love us, Sho.”

“Even if Heaven and Earth turned upside down–“

“Now, now,” Suguru intervenes like that of a scolding mother. “Let’s not frighten off our new friend here.”

The two mumble apologies even though you can’t help the joy that bubbles up. Being a third or fourth wheel can have its issues at times ─ namely if you’re being excluded from the group ─ but sitting back and watching them banter away is plenty enjoyable for you.

One comment they made however caught your attention. “You guys know Mr. Nanami?”

“Sure do!” Satoru chirps, more than happy you asked. “The four of us went to school together and after graduation, Nanamin and I ended up in the modeling business. It wasn’t until a few years ago he decided to take up a managing role. Not sure why, he was doing just fine.” He shrugs.

Disbelief hits you like a high-tide wave. “He was a model?”

“You didn’t know?” Your question apparently astonishes him. He pulls his phone out, swiping through it a few times before passing it to you from across the table. “I’m surprised you didn’t know, what with you being his protégé and all.”

“I don’t know about protégé, but…” your voice trails off as you examine the pictures. Sure enough, these photos are indeed your boss, varying from tourism magazines to modeling business suits from highly reputable designers.

The notion that he was a model isn’t farfetched; it’s a thought that’s crossed your mind a dozen times given his handsome looks. Having the confirmation now with physical proof to back it up has your mouth held agape at the newfound information.

“He never mentioned any of this to me before,” you murmur.

“I’m not shocked,” Suguru chimes in. “Kento’s always been more reserved when it comes to himself.”

“Are you two in the industry as well?” You direct your question to Suguru and Shoko who look back with raised eyebrows that border on amusement.

Satoru decides to be the one to answer in place, “Nope! Suguru here is a tattoo artist, and Shoko’s a doctor.”

Suddenly, the plethora of tattoos make a whole lot more sense. That, and Shoko’s eyebags. Your eyes wander to the art you can see around the revealed sections of the upper half of his body. They range from subtle beauty to grotesque in nature, the majority being creatures straight out of folklore but more imaginative ─ the product of nightmares, more or less.

The trail of ink stops just short of his jawline, but that alone leads into how he styles himself with piercings. There are the obvious black pearls on the lobes, but he also has one right through his eyebrow. As he speaks, there’s even a glint of one on his tongue and who knows where else.

“Like what you see?” Suguru purrs and your eyes snap up to meet his golden-brown gaze. He tries to show off more from his arms, as much as his current clothes will allow, and your favorite might have to be the rainbow dragon stretching from his neck to somewhere beneath his shirt.

You retreat to your drink, only for the bitter taste to remind you of its existence. “Y-yeah, they look really nice,” you tell him with the hint of a blush.

Shoko takes to lightly smacking his shoulder, falling into the effects alcohol has to offer. “Looks like you finally found a fan of your twisted style, Suguru.”

“Hey, what about me?” Satoru frowns, wanting some of his own attention from you. “What did you think about today? Those clothes were great, huh? I might have to buy some for later.”

Your eyes can’t help but fall to your lap as the memory resurfaces of your earlier turmoil. You’ll admit that it went better than expected, and you’re glad it’s over with now, but as always, you’re left to deal with the aftermath of the storm.

“You looked amazing!” You exclaim, and you’re not at all lying. “Perfect for the magazine.” Him, not you.

“Right? I loved that outfit you had on–“

Satoru continues to talk but there’s a buzz that forms in your ears, separate from the music of the club that keeps you from understanding anything other than your own mind. It feels as though your stomach is being twisted into knots and the earlier tension hits you in full once again.

You still don’t understand why they wanted you so bad for this, and to pair you up with such a highly regarded model.

Your follower count is nothing close to his; you’re practically a nobody. It could have been done out of pity, those two are friends after all. Maybe it could’ve been a way to shame you, to prove to you that–

“Helloooo?”

“Huh? Sorry?”

“There you are, almost thought the alcohol finally started to get to you.” Satoru smirks, leaning back in his seat. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go use the restroom.” You force a smile as you stand, picking a random direction to walk in. “I’ll be right back!”

Your back’s turned before they even have a chance to respond. It took a bit of searching, but eventually you found the bathroom, slipping your way inside. You can’t help but idle in front of the mirror, staring at yourself in the reflection. There are some stray hairs to tame and running makeup to fix, but all in all, you aren’t sure what else you have left to feel.

It's likely all the lack of sleep is finally catching up on you. Being overly exhausted never does any favors as the tired mind can be quite cruel, hence you teetering on the edge of breaking down in tears.

At least when you return home to Tsumiki you’ll feel better. Your sweet little girl that helps give you a reason to keep going despite it all. The earnings from this photoshoot will do nicely in affording some fresh new toys to pamper her with, and you find yourself growing impatient to see her.

You leave the bathroom with a more freshened mind and a goal in sight, but you’re stopped short of your return to the booth when your name is called in a familiar baritone tune. Its source ─ your one and only neighbor, perched over the counter, shining away at some crystal.

“Hi Toji,” you greet, coming up to the empty barstool in front of him. “I didn’t know you were working tonight.”

You also didn’t expect to see how polished he looks while on the job. Here, you find him in black dress pants, a white button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, some silver hardware, and half his bangs smoothed back. If it weren’t for him being behind the counter all dolled, you’d peg him as a bouncer the way his muscles are straining.

“Should’ve told me you wanted to come by, I’d have offered a ride.”

“Oh, I’m actually with a group right now.” You look towards your booth where Satoru has his hands in the air, wildly gesturing for whatever they’re conversing about.

Toji follows your eyes with recognition. “Ah, that kid,” he teases, acting as if he’s not right there in age with all of you. “Had me make that unicorn jungle juice shit for him. How he’s not overdosing on sugar is beyond me.” He rolls his eyes before meeting yours once again.

His quick-witted tongue leaves you giggling, proving to be just what you needed to relax. “Yeah, he invited me here after we finished that photoshoot I mentioned before, and I couldn’t exactly say no, so…here I am.” You laugh again, but it’s a tad bit dry, given your state of exhaustion.

Looking at him now after the day you’ve had, you find it far too easy to get lost in his green gaze. While there’s no good star you could compare them to, the Earth around you is all you need. From luscious forests to precious metals, jades and emeralds might be the best metaphors. Malachite on the other hand offers a uniqueness suited for this one-of-a-kind man.

They scan you intently, bordering on the same look a Nikon camera offers. A shutter comes in the form of blinks, capturing you to store away in his memory for as long as he can.

“That was today, huh?” He pauses, green ripples softening as pools of black spread outwards. “How’d it go?”

Words are lost on you as you try and piece together what to tell him. A small sliver of you wants to be honest when he’s proven to be a good listener, but you also think he gets enough of that on the job.

“It was…good? Busy, mostly,” you reply, keeping it short and sweet. You can’t imagine how many drunkards come spilling their guts, expecting him to act as their therapist. You don’t want to bring any unnecessary stress to him when he’s trying to pay the bills like anyone else.

“Yeah?” Another patron interrupts before he can continue, forcing Toji to make his order, but not without some cursing spilling from under his breath. When he returns to you, he loses that tension, leaning his forearms against the counter. “You know, I almost didn’t recognize you at first when you were walkin’ by.”

“Because of all the makeup, I guess?” you huff, “Yeah, it’s bad–“

“It’s good,” he cuts you off mid-sentence and you feel your breath hitch. “Different than your usual, but not bad. Not like you need all that to begin with,” he continues without so much as missing a beat, leading you suck your lips inwards in a coy manner.

Toji looks satisfied as he flashes you a pearly white canine beneath his crooked grin. “I take it you’re celebrating then, what did that brat get for you?”

You chuckle at his feigned hostility towards Satoru, knowing full well he’s only kidding around. “I think he said it’s a margarita. I’m not sure though, it’s my first-time drinking.”

His reaction is a lot less surprised than the other three. “How do you like it?”

You snort, “Not great, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how anyone can stomach it.”

“Tell me about it,” he scoffs, raising a hand to gesture in disbelief before dropping it back to the counter with a small thud. “Can’t stand that shit.”

“Huh?” You stare at him, taken aback.

He raises an eyebrow at you in response. “What?”

“Nothing,” you breathe. “Just wondering why you’re a bartender if you hate alcohol that much.”

“Gotta pay the bills somehow, doll.” He winks, the smirk of his returning for a hot second. “If you want, I can make you somethin’ that’s easier to swallow?”

You’re hesitant, but ultimately willing to trust the man and give it a go. “Sure, I’d like that.”

Toji now has a goal in mind to impress you, making this worth your while so that maybe you’ll come back another night.

He reaches under the bar, pulling out an assortment of supplies, gauging what he knows of you to make the perfect drink. You can’t help but be mesmerized by how he mixes everything, verging on being a showoff about it too, but overall similar to how a hibachi grill might perform for patrons.

The difference is, this one is all for you, made special by him.

He empties the contents into a tall, narrow glass, topping it off with a tiny umbrella of your favorite color and a few extra slices of your favorite fruit along the rim. “Enjoy, sweetheart.” He winks again, sliding the liquid potion your way with deft fingers. His confidence is apparent, believing in his skills.

The suddenness of hearing “sweetheart” from the man no doubt has your face feeling warm, complimented by the color of the drink. There’s still some hesitation as you lift it to your mouth, but after one taste, you admit that it’s not so bad ─ better even, compared to the previous concoction. Any tinge of alcohol your palate detects is washed away thanks to the fruity aftertaste and whatever else he threw in.

“So?” he drawls, eager to hear what he already knows is sweet victory.

“It’s…good, I like it, actually,” you tell him with a smile, enjoying another sip after. “What do I owe you for it?”

“For you?” He leans closer, his grin widening. “On the house. Don’t worry about cost tonight.”

“Toji, you cannot keep doing this for me!” you argue, attempting to pull out your wallet when his hand stops you right in your tracks.

“Too bad,” his voice drops to a smooth, gravely tone. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing. “It’s my treat for your celebration,” he chuckles.

You pout. “You’re going to have to let me treat you sometime, you know.” At this rate, you’re going to have to start keeping a list for everything you wish to pay him back for since he won’t ever let you win.

As good of a feeling as it is to be pampered like this, you also don’t want to keep burdening him. It doesn’t matter if he’s the one always offering his kindness, you don’t want him to feel like he has to ─ that you’re not capable of doing this for yourself.

“Your presence is enough of a treat,” he reassures, “The kid would agree with me.”

In a way, that sounds like Toji actually enjoys spending time with you. In reality, that is exactly what he said, but the thought of someone like him and even his son wantingsomeone like you around is nearly impossible to fathom. Unless of course this is the alcohol already taking affect on your processing and hearing…

Your presence is a treat.

You are wanted.

…That’s what he said.

“Toji! Come here for a sec!” a younger employee at the other end of the bar calls out, earning a grunt from the one in front of you.

“Shit, guess fun time’s over,” he huffs. “If you need anythin’ else, you know where to find me, pretty girl.”

“Thanks, Toji.” You grin appreciatively. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Oh, hey,” he calls out your name as step off from your seat. “Tell me when you’re leavin’, okay? I’ll drive you home.”

You nod in return as you take your leave back to the booth. The trio keeps their eyes on you like ravenous hyenas as you settle back in.

“Soooo,” Satoru drawls with a cheshire grin growing wider by the second. “You wanna tell us what that was about?”

“What?” you question, oblivious to what he means.

“You and the bartender?” he snickers, “The two of you were lookin’ pretty friendly together.”

Shoko scoots closer, noticeably more relaxed and swaying. Her arm wraps around your shoulder, failing an attempt with whispering in your ear, “If you see an opportunity, take it! I can see the heart eyes from here.” Her eyebrows wiggle with a knowing look.

“I-It’s not like that!” you stammer. But is it really? Oh, who are you kidding. It’s becoming harder and harder to deny that you aren’t feeling something for your neighbor. “We live next-door to each other is all,” you mumble, feeling coy.

“Ooh, neighbors to lovers?” Satoru’s gaze inadvertently meets Toji’s from afar before drifting back to yours all full of smug. “Can’t blame you, he is a looker.”

“Satoru.” His teasing laugh turns into a fake yelp when the back of Suguru’s hand meets his chest to reprimand him.

“What, am I wrong? He’s not as good looking as you though, Sugu,” he purrs, lowering his head to the man, bringing a kiss to his cheeks.

“That’s better,” Suguru remarks, casually sipping on his sake.

“Alright, cool it, lover boys,” Shoko sighs, silencing them. She leans her head in your direction, trying to get a better look at the face you’re trying oh so hard to hide. She brushes a few hairs hiding your eyes and you see her own that hold the look of a hungry predator, itching to pounce and sink her teeth into something juicy. In this case ─ your love life. “Tell us everything.” She enunciates each syllable, growing impatient by the second.

“Well…”

☆ Notes: damn the updated version of this is way more fucking depressing LOL I couldn’t help myself but hey, I have PLANS

I guess now would be a good time for me to point out ages so reader would be really early 20s, sashisho + kento and all them mid 20s and then toji just a smidge older, but not too late in the 20s. I just don’t feel like putting established ages on anyone besides the kids since that matters for whatever grade they’re in (ignoring how 6 year old/1st grader megumi is already super independent and talkative)

Originally, I gave Suguru a scar tattoo on his forehead for obvious reasons (not that he is or ever was kenjaku in the OG), but in the restructured version I decided to retcon that bit. I like the idea I see people do instead with kenjaku as an evil twin, but idk if I’ll make that a plot point at this time.

as far as his other tattoos go, i like to imagine it's all styled after the cursed spirits he absorbs in an ukiyo-e style!

#jjk #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk toji #jjk au #toji x female reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji zenin #toji x you #gojo satoru #model!reader #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #nanami kento

80 notes · View notes

gaysindistress · 4 months

Text

Связи (n.) connections - four

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: mob!bucky x reader

Summary: “Did you think you could hide from us? That’s adorable, little one. There’s no where on this planet where you could hide from the Shostakov Bratva and even if you did manage to evade us, the Barnes Bratva would find you. Your связи, your connections, will always come back to haunt you, Y/N.”

Warnings: cursing, Carol not being nice

Word count: 3.4k

part three | series masterlist

taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @unaxv @identity22

A week passes by in a blur of moving and staring out the window while that stupid song, Possibility by Lykke Li, plays in the back of my head. Bucky arranged for all of my stuff to be moved into his penthouse but promised to keep my apartment for me. I think he even offered to take over my rent but honestly I don’t remember. I’ve tried to tell myself that I haven’t fallen into a depression but that would be a lie.

Between having my world crumble around me and then rebuilt by others, it’s to be expected that I’m feeling…awful. That’s not the right word but it’s all that I can think of to describe the feeling of complete isolation and loss of control that’s taking residency in my chest.

Bucky and Sam did stay around for the first couple of days, probably to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid but after that, it was just me, the two guards who never look like they’re doing anything, and two other staff members. Thor, the massive blonde guard, lounges at the kitchen island everyday and flirts with the golden haired cook named Jane. The other guard, Valkyrie, is always within sight of me and moves when I do like a little shadow but I rarely see Loki who I can only assume runs the entire place. If he’s not on the phone, he’s just hanging up or is excusing himself to answer it.

I’m grateful to have had time to process and grief before being shoved back into my life and forced to act like nothing happened. Tony and Steve both have called numerous times to make sure I’m okay after randomly taking a week off but it’s Carol’s insistence on texting, calling, DMing, and FaceTiming that gets to me. I have half a mind to show Bucky and get him to do something about however something tells me that I won’t like his methods.

His question comes in the form of a text the first night he’s not around. It was simple; “what’s your favorite food?”

“Are you really going to waste your question on that?”

“It’s a question all the same.”

“Pho but it has to be from the place down the street from my apartment.”

The next day Jane brought me that exact meal and made a point to show me the note that accompanied it.

“See? Not a waste.”

It wasn’t signed but I knew it was from him. Although I wanted to be angry with him for the part he’s playing in all of this, I couldn’t be. I can’t. He’s just as stuck as I am.

We’re both stuck being pawns for a giant game of chess that neither of us want to play.

A debriefing with Wanda and Carol wasn’t exactly what I thought my first day back at work would entail. I’d hoped for a relaxing day with my head buried in paperwork so I could avoid any questions but apparently not.

It surprised me at first that I would be allowed to go back to work but my father apparently hadn't cared enough to make any terms and conditions regarding me after I married Bucky. His concerns lay in the merging of their lower men and giving the directive of “shoot first, ask questions later” if they saw Antonia or any of her people to their Brigadiers. Neither of those things involved me and seeing as I was now a member of the Barnes Bratva, I became Bucky’s burden to bear.

The lack of rules regarding me meant that I could return to work and use it as a cover to help with the FBI’s investigation. Hence why I’m being forced to endure Carol’s stare as Wanda gives me the complete run down on Alexei. The entire time Carol’s been burning holes into my back and Tony’s done the same to her.

The moment I walked in, he had grabbed and yanked me into his office, demanding to know what the fuck happened. I explained as much as I could without putting him in danger but he refused to hear it. He’d threatened to send Steve after me if I didn’t give him the full story and the thought of Steve lecturing me was enough to have me spill everything. I swear tears pricked his eyes but he was quick to engulf me in a hug and promise to do whatever I needed him to.

“Anything at all, you call me. I don’t care what time it is, you call me,” he’d whispered into my hair and I nodded.

I honestly think if I asked him to make Carol disappear, he would. He might even be trying to do that now with the way he’s shooting daggers at her. Wanda pretends to not notice but the air is growing too hot around us and she lets out an annoyed huff.

“You need to figure your shit out right now. I don’t get paid to deal with children so you better grow up and sort it all out right now.”

Carol is the first to speak, “this isn't safe anymore. We need to call it off and find another way to get evidence.”

Wanda arches one auburn brow, “and why isn’t it safe anymore?”

“You know why.”

“I do but if you’re going to suggest something that stupid, you need to back it up.”

Tony snickers to himself and earns a glare from Carol.

I interject, “the operation is fine and we all know nothing is ever going to be ‘safe’ not when you’re dealing with criminals. Your best chance is me. Alexei will trust me more than anyone else you’d send in. It’ll be slow and you probably won’t get anything useful for a few weeks but sending in more people or even pulling anyone will be suspicious and he’ll catch on. I’ve been made Bucky’s Sovietnik and he’s obviously a part of all of this so I’m already in a good position to infiltrate Alexei’s organization or at least get someone else in.”

“Barnes made you his advisor already?” Wanda asks with curiosity and something else edges her voice.

“He only did it to piss me off,” Carol snips as she moves to make herself coffee.

“I’m starting to think you’re the problem, Danvers. Maybe you need to be reassigned,” Wanda snips back as she goes back to look at the file splayed out on the table. She’s leaning over the table and Tony joins her, coming to sit next to where her hand is on the table. They begin to speak in low voices and I take that as my cue to take a break or make a run for it. I still haven’t decided as I get up and excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Carol’s lurking on the other side of the room, angrily stirring her coffee and staring at the ground so I think it’s safe to slip out.

Alas, everything I think is apparently wrong and I don’t see her follow me out but she makes her presence known when she grabs my arm in the hallway and stops me.

“What is it with people grabbing me?” I sneer at her as I spin around and pull my arm away from her before she can say anything. Hurt flashes in the eyes that I once loved to get lost in but that was before I found out she’s been using me. Now they’re dull and lifeless like a painting that’s been sitting in the sunlight too long. “What do you want?”

“I…” she stammers clearly not expecting me to snap at her and that makes me even more angry. Did she really think I could forgive and forget, move on after hearing that she’s the reason my sister is dead and that she’s been lying to me since we met? The void that’s eaten away at me now fills with molten anger and demands to be released.

“Spit it out. I have to pee.”

“I'm sorry. I wanted to say I’m sorry and ask if you’d come over for dinner tomorrow.”

If I were feeling anything other than anger, my jaw would’ve dropped in surprise but instead it clenches and I raise a brow at her.

She continues, looking around to make sure no one hears a single desperate and disgusting word she’s saying, “please, Oksana…”

When I didn’t think she could fuck up anymore, she does and she knows it by the way her face pales.

“Let me make myself perfectly clear; my name is Y/N and I want nothing to do with you after all of this is over. Bucky already told you that we can’t be seen together anymore. We can’t be together anymore and nor would I even want that if it was a possibility. I will be professional because we have a job to do but don’t expect me to come running back to you because you said you were sorry. It means nothing to me.”

Something shifts in her and she takes a step forward as a dark look overtakes her features, “but it means something when he says it?”

I narrow my eyes at her and scoff. Jealousy is a terrible look on everyone but on her it’s appalling. Shaking my head, I turn to the bathroom and she yanks me back, pinning me between the wall and herself. She leans down to whisper in my ear, “because he’s the good guy, right? The guardian angel who saved you from turning out like your sisters? Is that it? Is that why you didn’t even try to stop the marriage and just rolled over like a fucking dog?”

“No,” I grit out as I try to push her but she doesn’t budge. “Move.”

She presses further into me and I gasp out of anger, shock, rage, take your pick.

“He’s the criminal here, don’t forget that,” she whispers in my ear and I squeeze my eyes shut at the feeling of her breath washing over me.

“I can see it clear as day now,” I whisper back and she pulls away with pinched brows. Dropping my head back against the wall, I use her confusion as my chance to slam it forward and smash my forehead into her nose. She lets out a shriek of pain and jumps away from me as blood gushes from her nose. I can feel where my forehead made contact with her nose and blood drips down my face but I don’t care.

“Tell whatever story you want, Carol, but don’t think you can make me the villain without forcing me to turn into one. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do nor do you know what I’m prepared to fucking do if needed. You are a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

Finally she’s silent and I straighten my shoulders at my victory before giving her a look that would make even Alexei shrink away. I know that someone will have something to say about what just happened but for now, I’ll bask in the glory of getting her to leave me alone and clean up my face after I pee like I originally wanted to.

Tony is sitting on the bathroom counter when I open my stall and go to clean up. He doesn’t look pissed but he doesn’t look happy either. I choose to ignore him as I gather paper towels and wet them so I can dab at my forehead. He takes them from my hands and finishes the job.

“You need to be more careful.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you though? I don’t know exactly what Barnes has worked out with the Feds but I’m sure there’s a clause somewhere that lets them drop you whenever they want.”

I stare blankly at him and he rolls his eyes; what a perfect duo we are.

“All I’m saying is that if something happens, I don’t know that I can help you.”

I step away from him, narrowing my eyes at him, “I don’t need you to save me. I don’t need anyone to save me, I can take care of myself. If something goes wrong, I’ll be fine because that’s always what happens; I find a way out.”

Tony’s eyes soften and he drops the bloody towels into the sink, “I didn’t say you needed saving, I said I might not be able to help. Those are two very different things and this..”

He gestures under us as if the lies are tangled into the air, “this is different. This isn’t a bad day on a case or even a criminal who got away. This is your past. These are your connections that you’ve tried to sever for years coming back to show you that you won’t be free until every last one is gone. All I’m asking is for you to be careful please.”

I nod and shift my stare to the woman in the mirror that looks vaguely like me. Her forehead is a collage of dark hues, throbbing under the surface but the blood is no longer visible. Her eyes are void of anything, any life, any emotion whatsoever but there is a slight curl to her lips, a shadow of a smirk.

Oksana is staring back at me and I find myself welcoming her home after so many years.

The first thing out of Sam’s mouth when he sees me is “Jesus fucking Christ” as he hands me an ice pack. It’s been a few hours so it’s not like it’s going to do anything but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

“You should see the other guy,” I half joke as I take the pack, pressing it to my forehead with a wince and he shakes his head even more.

Bucky on the other hand is silent, nothing betraying what he’s thinking as he stares at me from across the kitchen island. It’s unsettling. It’s unrelenting. It’s enough to make me want to vomit.

Sam notices and clears his throat, drawing me into a debrief about the meeting with Feds. He sits beside me and doesn’t hesitate before diving into how I got my lovely bruise. Only then does the Pakhan speak and causes us both to freeze mid sentence.

“Question for a question,” he barely utters as he leans back against the cabinets and crosses his arms. “Did she threaten you?”

Sam’s eyes dart between us as I carefully pick my words, “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

I raise a finger at him, “it's my turn, what changed that night?”

Vague sure but he understands.

“Take your pick. Alexei’s men came in too early, Joseph was killed, you fought me more than I expected, Yelena wasn’t sedated and then she bit Sam.”

I nod, satisfied with his answer and tell him to ask his second question which he repeats. Sam and him give each other a look before he slips out of the room and leaves just Bucky and I in the kitchen. Jane had left us all plates in the fridge but only Sam and Bucky had eaten. Mine still sits untouched only a few inches away on the island but I’ve been too focused with talking to even think about eating.

“She followed me to the bathroom and grabbed my arm.”

“There’s more.”

Damn, he’s getting good; stating things so that I have to either confirm or deny them but not outright asking.

“No there’s not.”

“Yes there is, tell me what else happened,” his voice is stern and it sends a shiver down my spine.

“There’s really not.”

“So your forehead just randomly bruises like that,” he states with a bored look and gestures to the darkening spot on my forehead.

Suddenly my food looks appealing. He calls my name, softer this time and I let out a sigh before looking at him over my food.

“She pinned me against the wall and wouldn’t move so I made her.”

“And head butting was the best option?”

I narrow my eyes at him, “one at a time.”

“Fine, ask yours then.”

I chew my food, pretending to think of one even though I already have one in mind. I maintain eye contact with him as I swallow.

“How long were you and nat together?”

He rubs his jaw and scratches at the stubble that’s grown into almost a beard since the start of this all. Eye bags are slowly starting to form and I wonder if it’s from me or the Feds or anything other aspect of his life. Everything seems to be complete chaos around him albeit organized to some degree.

“We weren’t.”

My brows knit together in confusion, “what? She was in love with you, she wouldn’t shut up about it.

He shrugs before sliding off the counter top and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “Some things are better left alone.”

“Are you always this frustratingly vague? No wonder Sam is always in a mood, you only speak in riddles and sarcasm.”

Bucky chuckles. “And I’m guessing you have a habit of picking fights when backed into a corner.”

“I was raised by the one and only Alexei Shostakov; isn’t that what he’s known for?”

He nods in agreement with a smirk but doesn’t say anything. We settle into silence as I finish eating and he stands guard with his arms crossed while leaning against the wall closest to the front door. The penthouse isn’t extravagant but it’s not homey either. Steel, concrete, and dark wood cover every surface giving it a showroom vibe and the severe lack of any personal touches makes it worse. The room I’ve been staying in was like a hotel room when I first moved in but now it’s at least comfortable thanks to my things. I tried once to be a minimalist but after years of not being allowed to enjoy life, I couldn’t deny the little girl in me that anymore.

Plants line the window seals and terribly hand knitted blankets cover the white bedding I couldn’t get rid of. While it might have felt sterile at first, the sheer comfort and luxury of those sheets and blankets convinced me to keep them. Where there aren’t plants, I put candles and small lamps so I don’t have to turn on the main lights. My little haven is the complete opposite of the kitchen that feels even colder with Bucky’s cold stare but it’s mine and mine alone.

He breaks the silence before I can escape to it and watches me closely.

“Has she hurt you before?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave in an effort to not scare me off I assume. I freeze as I’m putting my dishes into the sink with my back to him. I know who he’s talking about and I know my answer but I can’t figure out why he cares.

He seems to see the hesitation in me and taps my elbow to get my attention. I’m thankful he doesn’t grab me and I suck in a breath before turning around.

He is unlike any of the other Bratva men I’m used to. The others are filthy, worn, and all around awful to be near from their lives in crime but there’s something about this man that’s different. He looks every bit of the menacing Pakhan that he is, however I still remember that laughing young man who pulled pranks on my sisters with me. The years aren’t usually kind to the children raised in Bratvas but he’s found a way to make them work in his favor and at 34, Bucky is the most respected while fearsome Pakhan this world has seen.

The kitchen light above us emphasizes the dark flecks in his blue eyes and amplifies the sun kissed hue of his skin. The dark blue threads of his eyes rival that of any ocean wave I’ve ever seen and mild concern lurks in them as they bore into me.

“Has Carol…” he starts and I interrupt him.

“No. She’s…she wasn’t like that at all. She’s never even raised her voice at me before.”

“Lisichka,” he murmurs to me and the nickname catches me by surprise.

Little fox.

“Don't call me that,” I spit out and clench my fists at my side before storming off to my room.

Little fox.

He used to call Natasha that.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #mob au #mob!bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes reader insert #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #marvel #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #Связи (n.) connections #Связи (n.) connections bucky x reader

95 notes · View notes

nonexistent-introvert · 1 year

Text

Sign of the Times

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, angst, death, depressing. Just don't read it if you're not up for this.

A/N: Based off well, sign of the times by harry styles because I cannot get over the fact that I heard this song live and I'm a sucker for song fics. the atmosphere of this fic is also loosely inspired by LIS 2 forest so hence the pic

Listen to it while reading

“I don’t have much time Joel.”

Those words were not something he had expected to hear today. All warmth had left his voice and you knew that he was withdrawing himself. “You’re fine. You told me you were!” His voice got louder, the only sign that whatever was happening was affecting him despite how much he tried to suppress those feelings. “I thought I was.” You averted your gaze from him, unable to meet his eye contact. Joel stepped closer to you, “Where?” there was a demand in his voice, he was commanding you to show him.

You rolled up the sleeves of your shirt, revealing your arm. You saw the exact moment Joel noticed the bite on your bicep, you saw how the blank look on his face turn into a mortified look. “Jesus.” He breathed out, letting out a gasp. You quickly covered the bite back up, you figured it was better if both of you did not have to see it. “Three days.” You muttered. Three days or less before you turn into one of those things. Those monsters that are unable to control themselves.

Joel remained silent even as he sat beside you. A fire burning to keep the both of you warm, you couldn’t bare to admit to him that you were still freezing. That despite you moving closer to the fire, the warmth never seemed to reach you. His eyes were in a daze, he hadn’t talked to you since witnessing the bite. Joel Miller was at a loss, he didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t know how to proceed from there. Thoughts raced through his mind, like waves crashing onto him. He felt like he was drowning in these thoughts.

Not you too.

Joel could not lose you. His fingers traced the scar on his nose. His heart burned as the memory of his past surfaced. When he had carried Sarah in his arms, he felt her body turn cold, how her cries became silent as he tried her best to ease her pain, tried his best to save her by applying pressure to the wound. Sarah grabbed onto his arms tightly in pain, her face scrunched up, whimpering and telling him that she was suffering. The peace that came afterward was bittersweet and the most heartbreaking thing that had happened to him. When Sarah’s cries died down, her eyes fluttered shut and the muscles on her face relaxed. He could almost deceive himself that she had just fallen asleep in his arms, just like every other day when she had fallen asleep while watching TV with him. However, the blood that stained his hands, her cold limb body in his arms as he cried his heart out over losing his daughter. Joel scrubbed his hands against each other subconsciously, the image of her blood on his hands haunting him even now.

Joel stood up, your eyes followed his figure as he went to his bag. From there, he pulled out a navy blue button-up before he sat down beside you again. His eyes were focused on the fire as he handed you the button-up. “You fought with me over this button-up, said it was your favourite colour.” You chuckled weakly, “I was just trying to talk to you. You were so uptight and well unapproachable.” He swallowed, this was the exact reason why he wanted to stay away. He didn’t want to go through this now. “It’s still your favourite colour is it not?” You nodded, holding the button up to admire it. “This is too big for me Joel, you would suit it.” Joel forced his eyes shut before any tears could run down his face. He didn’t want you to see him like this. “Just- take it alright?” The smile on your face disappeared, his hard exterior was breaking down. Seeing how much your situation bothered him, it scared you more than death did.

Welcome to the final show

Hope you're wearing your best clothes

Joel watched as you wore the blue button-up over your black t-shirt as a form of outerwear. It was ironic how you always wore a black t-shirt, the black t-shirt that made all the crimson red blood stains invisible, almost like how you tend to hide your own matters and emotions in plain sight, and yet, no one ever seems to notice. Joel’s eyes fixated on yours, he’s trying to commit you to memory. His eyes drifted past every feature, his heart sinking, he should have spent more time admiring you, you were exceptionally beautiful despite the blood and dirt. No one was truly ‘clean’ in this messed-up world.

You looked pretty good down here

But you ain’t really good

“Joel, you're scaring me.” He smiled weakly at the irony of that statement. Only you could still make him laugh at this time. “How are you?” You pursed your lips, “Pretty peaceful.” You rubbed your hands together, trying to mask their shaking and gain some warmth. Joel laid down, prepared to sleep for the day, his arm over his eyes as he tried to block out the light from the fire.

You stayed up, it felt weird, felt almost overwhelming to know you were on borrowed time. You had spent so many years wishing you were, spent each year with too much time to spare but now that you were truly on borrowed time. Everything felt unaccomplished. Joel’s snores erupted from beside you, you glanced at him with a sad look. Why now? Why did you have to meet him and succumb to this fate? Why not before? Your heart tightened, watching some of the curls of his hair fall onto his forehead. He had been complaining about his growing hair for a few days now. It was the few moments that proved that he was opening up. You scooted closer to his body, your hands shaking as they hesitated to touch his forehead. You inhaled before brushing his hair to the side, it was soft, a huge contrast to his hardened personality and scarred figure.

You laid down beside him, putting some distance between the both of you. You didn’t want him to know about how your body had started to shake and how cold you were. He shouldn’t have to worry about that. Joel’s hand tightened into a fist in the dark. His heart beating out of his rib cage at the contact of your fingers brushing his hair. How could he sleep? How could he sleep after knowing you were literally a timer waiting to go off? He wants to pull you closer, remind himself that for the time being you’re still you, you’re still with him. Images of him holding onto Sarah’s body flashed in his mind.

Yeah, he was better off keeping his distance from you. Maybe it would hurt less.

That was a lie, it had already started hurting.

We never learn, we’ve been here before

Why are we always stuck and running from

The bullets? The bullets

“Joel.” You muttered into nothing. You had just woken up but your mind had gone straight to him. He was no longer beside you, his daypack was nowhere to be seen and the fire had long been extinguished. By Joel himself or the wind, you didn’t know. All that was different was the extra layers of heat you got from a raggedy blanket that you recognised was Joel’s.

Panic started settling in when you tried to sit up but your limbs went limb and you fell back onto the cold hard ground. “Joel,” you called out, you needed to see him. He couldn’t have left already. You stood up hurriedly, picking up your own daypack as you walked out of the makeshift shelter on a rock platform. The sun was up, so high in the sky, definitely way after Joel’s waking hours as he always seemed to wake up at sunrise. Your eyes wandered, the sight of trees greeted you all the same. There wasn’t any sign of Joel. You closed your eyes, taking steps away from the shelter as you felt your heart tighten and the lump in your throat form. Joel left. Like he always said he would, if anything went wrong, he wasn’t obliged to stay. It never felt real then, but it is the reality now.

We gotta get away from here

You didn’t really have a plan. You would wander the woods until you collapse from exhaustion or turn into one of the infected. All you knew was that you wouldn’t be able to just sit down at the makeshift shelter until you eventually turned. No, you didn’t want to turn, you would rather cut things short and make it easier for yourself now. You pulled the pistol from your bag, weighing it in your hands. Guns were always more of Joel’s specialty than yours. You stared at the pistol, your hands already shaking. From fear? From the infection? Maybe a little of both.

“Hey!” The sound of the gruff voice and the hurried footsteps caught you, Joel. A smile formed on your lips. He hasn’t left you. He pulled you into an embrace, his hand covering your head while the other slowly took the pistol from you. “Hey, not now.” His breathing was frantic, if you knew better you would realize that Joel was terrified. You clutched onto the lapels of his jacket as you cried into his chest. “ why did you leave? Did you know how worried I was?” Joel scolded lightly, his hand still caressing your head. He frowned further as he felt you sob into his chest, and he held you tighter. “Hey, it's ok. It’ll be alright.” Joel didn’t know what else to say, he didn’t have to for the last few times. Sarah passed before he could say anything, Tess made sure he didn’t have to watch her slowly lose herself.

Just stop your crying

It'll be alright

You pulled away gently, you immediately rubbed your face with your hands, trying to erase the signs of your crying. Even if Joel knew already, it was just a habit, a habit to hide your emotions. Joel’s heart sunk further, your eyebags were sunken, your face and lips paler than he had ever seen. The veins on your face got more apparent, the veins on your hands were practically bulging out of the skin. Another sign of turning into an infected. “Joel, you need to leave soon.” You forced the words out, despite how much you hated for him to leave you. He had to, you would never forgive yourself if you dragged him down into the same circumstance you were in. His eyes remained fixated on yours, “Joel, time is running out for me.”

They told me that the end is near

We gotta get away from here

Joel let his tears fall. He had held back enough. Your heart shattered at the sight of his tears. Joel never cries and yet he just did, and it's for you. The guilt weighed heavily on your heart. You stood on your tip toes, he always teased you for your height. You place your hand on his cheek experimentally, giving him the choice to pull away if he wanted to. Joel leaned into your touch and his body shook with sobs. His body leaned down ever so slightly to better ease your movement as you caressed his beard. Your eyes shone with tears. “Joel, you’ll get to Wyoming. Find Tommy again and live the peaceful life you deserve. You know I always hated when people felt like shit because of me. So live a life that you’ll enjoy. You never smile much but I did enjoy admiring the smile of yours when you eventually grin because of me.” You joked lightly and he shook his head. Forcing a smile for you. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t trust his voice.

Just stop your crying

Have the time of your life

Breaking through the atmosphere

And things are pretty good from here

Remember everything will be alright

“I’ll see you again on the other side. When age eventually catches up to you.”

We can meet again somewhere

Somewhere far away from here

Joel laid you against the rocks. It was morning again which meant it was your last day. You barely felt like yourself, your vision was fuzzy and blurry. You had a dazed look on your face but you tried your best to stay conscious. To be yourself, for the last few hours because Joel was still by your side.

The tear streaks seemed to be ingrained onto Joel’s face ever since yesterday. You knew he cried more when he thought you were unconscious. Your heart breaks for him, breaks for the fact that he has to go through this alone.

“You mean so much to me. More than you’ll ever know.” He confessed. Your heart flutters, the words you were waiting on for so long. You just never wished that he would tell you in this situation. “I know I don’t show it, but I do. I care for you so fucking much.”

We don't talk enough

We should open up

Before it's all too much

“I love you, Joel.” You confessed with the last of your energy. Your throat was so dry, it was like claws scratching against it every time you talked. Joel's eyes widened in shock. “You don’t have to-” “I love you too.” He reciprocated, letting his tears fall once again. “I always am too late.” He muttered, “Should have told you sooner.” He bit his lip, blaming himself for deciding to close himself off from you instead. You smiled weakly at him. “I’m honored.” He shook his head at you, only you could still make jokes at this time. His eyes fell onto his backpack as he stood up, throwing it over his shoulder. “You’ll be alright right?” Joel glanced at you, “Hopefully.” he replied. You grinned, “See you around old man.” You teased for the last time. Joel wished he could give you a better remark but nothing came to his mind. “See you on the other side.” he merely said. “Long live King Joel Miller” You laughed, coughing violently right after. Joel stood firm, instead of rushing to you. He knew if he did, he wouldn’t leave. He waved at you, just like he always did when he left to scavenge. You waved back, watching as his figure slowly disappeared into the woods.

You inhaled deeply. Taking the pistol out from behind you. You held it in your hands, it felt lighter than before. Your finger landed on the trigger, just a pull and it will all be over. You smiled, thinking about Joel, thinking about what could have been. In another life maybe.

Will we ever learn?

We've been here before

It's just what we know

Joel froze. The sound of the gunshot resounded in the woods. A Flock of birds flew from trees, startled by the sound. He closed his eyes, trying to force any image of his imagination of an unconscious you out of his mind. You wanted him to be happy, wanted him to forget about you. He had always been alone before you came along. He has been where he is now. The lone survivor, it's all he knows. He wore that persona like his skin now.

The tears fell and dripped onto the earth below him. His feet brought him forward, ignoring all the voices in his head screaming at him to go back to you. He had to go, he had to leave before the regret settles in, before he is unwilling to leave you.

It is the beginning of an end.

A breeze gently graced him. Joel knew, he knew for sure that you did it. He knew that you were peaceful and one with nature now. It brought some kind of bittersweet comfort to him as he continued to let the silent tears fall from his face.

Stop your crying, baby

It's a sign of the times

We gotta get away

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #joel miller tlou #tlou x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #joel miller angst #joel #joel the last of us #Spotify

167 notes · View notes

missmaywemeetagain · 8 months

Text

Read TRICK OR TREAT 🧡🎃🎃 for FREE now on Patreon--Click HERE!!

My dearest Sugar Mama Rachel requested a fluff fic with the idea that Elvis and his girl get to spend a relaxing and fun day together in the mid-70s. But how do you get Elvis to relax for the day while getting him out of his funk AND out in the world with no one the wiser?

HALLOWEEN TRICKERY! 👻

It's been a while since I've written some sweet, smutty fluff, and since it's pretty much Spooky Season, I thought why not combine the two? 😊

This is meant to be a stand-alone one-shot, but you could certainly imagine it as part of the Pink Scarf Universe if you wish (sans Nicky). Please note I am still very new to writing Big Daddy Elvis! 🥹

I hope y'all enjoy and can't wait to hear what you think!

xoxox, Madi 💗

TW: SEXX, BDE, cussing, era-appropriate body image issues for E, tooth-rotting fluff, a hippie wig, Halloween silliness...👻

Trick or Treat

Halloween 1974

“Ab-so-lutely fucking not, honey,” Elvis says, giving you the side eye. “There is no way in God’s green earth I’m puttin’ that—that Commie getup on.”

You anticipated this and are determined not to take no for an answer. “Please baby? I promise it’ll be worth your while,” you say demurely. “I have a surprise planned.”

His brow furrows a little at that. “Hmmm, I see you battin’ those pretty lashes at me, darlin’, and it ain’t gonna work,” he adds stubbornly, shaking his head.

Elvis needs to get out of this damn house, and not in his usual way. Being one of the most famous men on the planet makes it hard for him to go out and enjoy even the slightest bit of normalcy, and going from his grueling show schedule to hibernating at Graceland over and over has depression settling in. In his isolation, he’s starting to resemble a caged bear, so you know you need to do something to help bolster him out of his mood, even if just for a day.

After a bit of maneuvering and preparation, you think you came up with a pretty great solution. You know Elvis doesn’t like celebrating Halloween, but you also know it could give him some much-desired anonymity. Hence the hippie outfits you managed to procure without him knowing currently lying on the bed.

But you knew trying to get him into costume wasn’t going to cut it—which is where the second part of your plan comes in. Undeterred, you feign sadness with a breath and a pout. Of course, you had anticipated all his moves, and your plan accounted for it...

✨READ THE REST HERE FOR FREE! 🎃

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

@littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-little-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @ohjustpeachy1 @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

59 notes · View notes

commenter2 · 3 months

Text

Lilith vs. Imposter Lilith theory explained + personal thoughts/ideas

For a while now I have been talking a lot about a Hazbin Hotel theory going over the idea that someone is pretending to be Lilith in order to achieve a grand plan. This literature will go over everything I personally think about the theory from what is going on, ideas that such a theory could lead to if it becomes true/true to any degree, and why it would be good for the story of Hazbin Hotel. This will contain spoilers from all over season 1 of Hazbin Hotel so heads up if you haven’t seen it yet. Also long post warning.

The theory started when people pointed out that the image of Lilith on the Lilith Hazbin Hotel trading card looked a lot like the silhouette of Eve from Charlie’s story from the episode “Overture”. Then later in episodes like “Dad Beat Dad” Lilith’s face were hidden in Charlie’s flashback when at this point we already knew what she looked like, adding more to the idea of someone pretending to be her. There also could be another example of this in “The Show Must Go On” but more on that later.

The 2 popular suspects that people have for the Imposter are Eve, Adam’s first wife, and Roo, and old character of Vivzie’s that is confirmed to be appearing much later in the series. For Eve its believed that she is doing this because she wants revenge for all the people that she blames have caused her nothing from misery throughout her entire existence from Lucifer giving her the apple, Adam for being himself, and Heaven for blaming her for releasing evil. Roo is a character believed to be the embodiment of evil (Roo standing for Root of all evil) and/or a kind of cosmic/natural being who wishes to destroy all of existence as it’s the ultimate evil, and thus a way to fulfill her purpose in existence. Whoever it turns out to be, they realized that at one point disguising themselves as Lilith could aid in their plans, likely one way was that this allowed them to obtain knowledge on Hell, Earth, and maybe Heaven if Lucifer and Lilith ever had peace negotiations with Heaven.

Eventually Lilith realized someone was pretending to be her, and the numbers of times such a thing has happen increased over the centuries (maybe even millennia) so Lilith has set out on a mission to stop the imposter from using her name, eventually realizing that if she doesn’t stop the Imposter it could doom everyone, especially her loved ones.

I have an idea for a twist where it could be revealed that Lilith actually invited said Imposter in on a plan of hers to rise against Heaven but after she realized the Imposter had even more deadly plans, Lilith realized she had to stop her.

During her quest Lilith made the ultimate sacrifice and sadly ended her happy marriage and family by divorcing Lucifer as to her this was the best way to protect him, Hell, and more importantly Charlie. I’d also be okay with the idea that Lucifer eventually realized what Lilith was doing, even hoping that one day they could get back together (this could be another reason why he still has his wedding ring) but is still depressed that he can’t be with his wife or aid her, as this would cause the Imposter to realize that Lilith and Lucifer are on to it. The worse thing of all though to Lucifer, is that he has to keep lying to Charlie about what is going on, a “great” way to cause drama between him and Charlie if the writers want to.

Now recently someone brought up the idea that Lucifer knew that Lilith is in Heaven, probably being one of those contacts he said he had up there, hence why he didn’t want Charlie to go up there for a meeting as he didn’t want to risk Charlie seeing her mother and make Lilith’s quest even worse and make Charlie emotionally devastated somehow. Luckily it looked like Lilith changed her mind but more on that later.

This went on until something happened 7 years ago before the events of the pilot and season 1. I’m guessing Lilith and the Imposter had a fight which ended in a draw and both sides going into hiding to recover and think of their next step. While Lilith said goodbye to Charlie one more time, I personally think the Imposter used its time to trick Alastor into serving it, making Alastor think it was serving the real Lilith. The Imposter told Alastor to lay low until the Imposter called for his services, which it eventually did as I think the Imposter sent him to spy on Charlie in hopes of using her and to keep any tabs on Lucifer and the real Lilith if it showed up. A feat like this would definitely show how dangerous the Imposter is if it can trick Alastor of all people.

This brings us to the season 1 finale where we see A Lilith on a beach in Heaven, where Lute brings up a deal and how she demands the Lilith take care of Charlie if she wants to stay in Heaven.

Now while I am slowly starting to believe that the woman there could be the real Lilith, I’m still considering the possibility for it being the Imposter. You can blame the sunglasses covering the eyes as not only do I think it’s similar to what was happening with her face in “Dad Beat Dad”, there have been A LOT of times in fiction where simple sunglasses were used to cover up big reveals.

I’m also a bit confused about if the deal Lute mentions was with her or Adam. I could see a scenario where a Lilith/Imposter used a disguise to make a deal with Adam about getting a place to crash in Heaven who he stupidly accepted, and Lute eventually realized what really happened but couldn’t do anything about it. I personally think it was with Lute though, as I could have seen Lute making a deal with the person where in exchange for letting them hide out there, Lute would gain the power/means to become Adam’s 2nd in command or to kill more demons/sinners.

If it is the Imposter, then she has convinced everyone that she is the real Lilith and is buying her time so she can find the info needed to destroy Heaven. She could also have had another goal of weakening the Exorcist army while there, likely setting up some events that eventually resulted in Adam dying. I could see a scenario where she has tricked Lute into think she is betraying Hell but when Lute realizes what she is really up to it will be too late. There is another idea but more on that later.

If it is the real Lilith, then I see her hiding out in Heaven because along with it be the last place anyone would look for her, it’s the only place the Imposter can’t go naturally, great if the Imposter is Roo. Maybe Lilith didn’t have a choice and was really desperate. Now I have an old work that went over the idea that the higher ups of Heaven knew a threat is coming and Adam was in no way capable of dealing with it, and they had a plan of getting someone better to replace him and lead the army, and I could see Lilith coming to the same conclusion and thus secretly tried to get rid of Adam. Maybe as a surprise she first tried to get rid of him without killing him and told Lucifer to set up Charlie’s appointment as along with how she actually wants to help her daughter maybe because she feels guilty of not being there as much as she wants to be, she hoped Charlie’s idea could make Heaven finally see how incompetent Adam was and get rid of him.

Now that Lute is demanding that Lilith take care of Charlie, Lilith will definitely have a bigger role in season 2, where I think both the real Lilith and the Imposter will try and use her for their own gain, making Lilith a bit of an antagonist but NOT a villain…hopefully.

There is also the chance that the real Lilith might not have a choice in stopping Charlie’s redemption dream as thinking back to the deal with Adam/Lute, we still don’t know what it really was, as maybe it was just Lilith owing one of them a favor? We also just don’t know much about how magical deals in this world actually work, like what happens when a deal is broken? Could it be like in the Percy Jackson spinoff series “Trials of Apollo” where if such a thing is broken, there are terrible/deadly consequences for the person that broke it and those around them?

One reason why I like this theory is that it could lead to some drama as maybe another reason why Lilith doesn’t want to use Charlie is cause she doesn’t want her to get involved or hurt,

But inevitably has to for what she thinks could be the greater good of everyone.

Maybe Lilith has become so obsessed with stopping the threat and save everyone, that she has trouble realizing how much she has been hurting others.

This theory also could lead to some episodes/storylines for the other characters in season 2. One is related to an idea I had about Charlie and Vaggie, as maybe after Vaggie keeps trying to convince Charlie that her mom/”mom” is up to no good, they get into their first proper fight in the season (I don’t count the events in “Hello Rosie” as a fight) which leads to some proper tension between them. Another is an episode where Lute tries to get justice for Adam’s death and execute Niffty as punishment but Heaven tells her that there isn’t a case or finds Charlie, Niffty and the others not guilty. This causes Lute to go insane and vows to destroy Hell and the “traitors” in Heaven, which the Imposter could take advantage of and recruit her as an ally.

Then by the end of the season Charlie and the others figure out what is going on and Charlie convinces her mother that she doesn’t have to do all of this, at least not by herself, and her words turn Lilith into an ally.

One of the aftermaths of such a theory related to the ending of season 2 is that the Imposter gains an advantage but luckily for everyone else her Lilith disguise got magically damaged thus the Imposter is no longer able to use it properly anymore, ending that part of Lilith’s quest.

Another possible result from all of this is that Lucifer and Lilith get back together. Imagine a fun wedding episode where Charlie helps plan her parent’s wedding! That would be awesome and beautiful because honestly this version of Lucifer and Lilith should be together and be happy.

That should be everything I have about the current situation surrounding this theory. In the end I just don’t want Lilith to be a villain, maybe antagonistic at times, but not a pure villain like Adam was as that sounds a bit cliché especially when compared to the pros of having Eve or Roo being seasonal/main villains. I also just want Charlie to have a good relationship with BOTH parents in the end, along with Lucifer and Lilith getting remarried as it was a bummer discovering that they were divorced and hopefully I’m not alone when it comes to these thoughts.

Do you believe that this theory could be true, even if it’s just to a degree? Do you also hope that Lilith won’t be a villain and should have a good relationship with Charlie and Lucifer at the end?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #vivziepop #hazbin hotel lilith #lilith morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel charlie #lucifer x lilith

39 notes · View notes

lordkingsmith · 5 months

Text

Eugene Skullovitch canon and non canon kids

-stares at his sheer List of close friendships, implied romances, romances, and everything in between- I think Skull vies with Tommy for sheer amounts. Tommy or Billy, but definitely up there. At the very least I can say this is because he’s a reoccurring character over several seasons and movies and not because they were trying to force a hetero romance so nobody noticed the actor was gay. Skull’s naturally flirtatious demeanor and huge presence in the show is certainly to blame for this. So. I’m more than likely missing some, but -shrugs- I am doing My Best lol.

Canon kids:

Unknown mother;

Spike Skullovitch. Like Minh the other parent isn’t known or needed, so Spike never got her named. It’s led to a lot of ideas of who the mom is, au’s where he’s a putty hybrid, and just a whole lot of fun. But let’s focus on canon. Spike is the teenaged son of a now very famous and very rich Eugene Skullovitch. He spent the summer with his “uncle” Bulk. He’s got a massive crush on Mia and he wants to be a samurai and he’s always eager to help the power rangers. And can I just say I love this guy? He’s a cinnamon role. He’s a sweetie. He’s a baby doll and must be protected at all costs. He’s the sweetest of the confirmed canon kids we know of so far (I AM looking at Coinless!Adam’s unnamed son, yes I am. Child I wish we’d seen you before you died. I’d love to know your name) unfortunately the descendants don’t seem to get a lot of personality as a general rule, and even Spike’s a little light on personality. He’s got enough to make him stand out from his dad. But, I can’t help but adore him lol. Sir who are you and who’s your mom? Second bit doesn’t matter but I’d love to know you better.

Non canon oc and alternate reality kids and grandkids:

for the sake of not wanting to sound repetitive, not every universe will have Spike, just ones that make sense/would be interesting for him.

Kimberly Hart;

Stormy Hart, aged seventeen. Her parents are separated. Despite the rocky start with Eugene being Kim’s rebound, they got together again after the Candace Incident. Kim progressed on Eugene’s terms, and they had a kiddo right as they were applying for colleges. It was a bit difficult and they made it work, but when Stormy was seven they finally had to separate, though they’re not on bad terms. Stormy is Spike’s half sister, and has her own band. Has anxiety and depression. Doesn’t spend time with brother or Bulk, at least as much as she should. Mostly for her appearance. Got extremely jealous of Spike over the power rangers thing though! She generally lives with her mom, not her dad, hence why she doesn’t spend time with Spike. She loves her goofy half brother but she’s at the age where her image is important to her. She doesn’t have any colors associated with her.

Katherine Hillard;

I thought his mild attempts at flirting were cute. They got together after Turbo’s movie. Kat realized she was never going to replace Kim for Tommy, and broke up with him. She got with Skull after a few months and some very creative ways to ask her out. They have two sons. The oldest is Squire Hillard. Aged 17. He’s average height and kind of a brilliant himbo. He lets his reputation cover him like a mask, but he’s pretty devious when he’s properly motivated. A little bit of a tail chaser. He keeps striking out, but that never stopped him. While he is a power ranger (pink), he’s having fun running a podcast questioning who the power rangers are. This cover is so good not even Kat’s figured out he’s pink turbo ranger. Looks like a surfer bro. Prefers it that way. Half brother of Spike Skullovitch. Has had to save his half brother three times so far. Barely gets along with his dad, county Sheriff Eugene Skullovitch, but they’re trying. He’s closer to Kat and like her is a professional diver. He wants to get into the Olympics. His general outfit could best be described as “someone from the peppermint forest in candyland decided to become a pirate”. He actually has a rap sheet. He’s got middle child syndrome and you can usually find him with his friends, the other Turbo rangers, or with Bulk, or egging grandmas house with Devon. He’s giving Eugene a bald spot is what he’s doing. Spike does his best, but they really don’t see eye to eye. Squire likes his big brother, there’s just a bit of frustration with him.

Devon Skullovitch, aged eleven. Unlike Squire he’s not blond and looks more like Eugene and Spike. Bulk calls him the baby buddy, and it annoys him so so much. Loves video games and fixing cars. Can eat his weight in lasagna. Not associated with any color. Knows his brother is up to something, unsure what. Often getting babysit by half brother. Is known to egg his grandmothers house. A lot. It’s a problem.

Billy Cranston;

After being best friends as kids, then not, then sort of friends, then maybe more...they have two kids. Charlie Cranston, aged twenty two, and Oscar "Skid" Cranston, aged twenty. Charlie and Oscar are both via a science experiment, where Billy combined his and Eugene's genetic codes in a randomizer, to see if anything would happen that was viable as a sperm and egg equivalent. Yes, he got permission for this from Eugene. He sold the patent, and lives happily with his and Eugene's kids. Charlie is a blue solar ranger. She has been since she was seventeen. Billy didn't know at first and when he found out....he grounded her for not telling him. Then came back thirty minutes later, apologized, ungrounded her, and told her to be careful. Eugene doesn't get it as much but he's trying, he really is. He worries more than Billy, though Billy does often find himself staring up at the stars on late nights with tea in his hand, knots in his stomach and hoping he sees his daughter for Christmas. It's different, somehow, when they're in space and not in town.

Oscar is friends with a Bulkmeier, of course. He's the family "problem child", in a general sense. The prankster, and he's super smart. He is mild enough nobody really thinks he's as smartass and clever as he is. His entire motivation is cause as much chaos as possible. He used to prank his sister once a month until she left, and he's the one who let slip she's a power ranger because she was thrown through a building in front of him. She didn't know he knew, and he's been apologizing since via no more pranks, and gifts. so many gifts. Her favorite foods, updates on her favorite bands, jewelry she'd like. He doesn't have to but he feels bad. This was the closest they ever got to the family splintering. Trini, Zack, and Jason do their best to help the three deal with Charlie in space. Oscar works as a janitor, isn't really interested in dealing with school or anything. He likes doing his hobbies while having a stable job.

variation; they get together when he helps Skull with his newborn son. Spike takes care of his little siblings, and helped Oscar get his nickname and his current job. Billy is eternally caring to his adopted kid, and does the best he can by Spike.

variation 2; Charlie becomes Charlie from A Team. This time, Billy DOES ground her. she never hears the end of it

Farkas Bulkmeier;

Absolutely nobody was surprised when they got together. Eugene became a teen dad and Bulk didn't even think twice. He could fit boyfriend in one arm and baby in the other and he often did in the early days when sleeping with the two. For comfort and sense of protection. Skull was his best friend, and everything he'd ever want in a partner. They didn't bother with a ceremonial wedding, it was just going to get the paperwork signed and then having a big party celebrating with their friends. They have Spike, of course, and adopted one more. Between Spike and Amy, they're good. Sharkie offered to be a surrogate, and Billy offered a way to mix their genetics, but after a long talk with each other and them, it was just Spike and Amy.

Amy and Spike are the same age, with a four month difference. Spike's more emotionally mature than his sister, but Amy's more cunning and less naive than Spike. Currently both eighteen. She's jaded in a lot of ways and makes sure her brother doesn't have to be. Spike has had to ask her not to threaten any partners he might get with, because he can handle himself. She's had to occassionaly ask this goes both ways. Amy is considering being a mechanic, or a roadie for Skull or Spike. She likes feeling useful, she likes puzzles and chess and general challenges. Cannot cook to save her life, but she's a whiz at baking. She's better at math than anyone else in her family. But english is the bane of her existence. Is not associated with a color.

Tommy Oliver;

Tommy invited Skull to a carnival. After first being asked if Skull was a rebound-with a fast follow up to make sure Tommy wasn't taking him to something run entirely by putties-and then asking if he was sure sure Goldar and Skorpina wouldn't be there-Tommy decided he was going to make this a date. and the best one of Skull's life. The effort to help this guy have a proper, healthy, fair love life, meant it more or less accidentally lead to falling in love and while not marriage, they do live together. They have Spike, an adopted daughter Eliza, and a son together named Hunter. Rita thought it'd "bury the hatchet" and had the forethought to let them know she'd decided her first act of being nice would be something that would benefit them. Has not in fact, buried any negative feelings but the effort did mean something. Tommy's straight up told all three of his kids they're not allowed to go to Briarwood. Just in case.

Eliza "Lizzie" Oliver is 21, and wants to be a reporter. Thinks Tommy's worries are a little extreme when they directly affect his kids' lives, but she humors him even as an adult, because she loves him and wants to see him happy. A little selfish, but very smart. Good at picking up on subtext and helps explain things that go over her brothers' heads when she's with them. Tommy's too because he might be smart, but the man is kinda dumb. Not very organized, but somehow always has what she needs in her giant purse. Very resourceful, knows how to pick locks, and is capable of two types of martial arts.

Hunter Oliver-Skullovitch is 16. He's just trying to get through highschool guys, please let him get through highschool. He's been kidnapped twice, and he really just wants to be left alone. More of a punk than Tommy gets, but Tommy and Skull are supportive of his tastes and choices in life. Unfortunately everybody wants a piece of this kid, and while he's not associated with any color (by sheer force of will), this is not from lack of attempts. Hunter's just very very good at making himself too much of a nuisance to be worth taking. Like his siblings he knows two types of martial arts, can pick locks, knows how to get into vents, knows four ways to get out of ropes and other bindings, and can say "help me I've been kidnapped" in twelve languages. as well as "fire!" and "that's not a human!". He loves monster movies, because the monsters actually seem to pose a challenge. He and Tommy do have an understanding, and Tommy and Skull are both happy to let Hunter have a choice in becoming a ranger. He won't get forced into it, if he does he will do this fully with his eyes open and knowing what he's getting into. He will become a black ranger, when he's around 20, and it will be his choice.

Jason Lee Scott;

They were paired up for a school assignment a little after Tommy was reformed and saved from Rita. It was annoying, especially with Skull being so cagey and Bulk straight up threatening him if he went to the Skullovitch residence or business. When Jason dared, he realized why. And had to get saved from Mrs Skullovitch flirting with him. Which earned Skull a lot of verbal abuse as he pulled Jason far away from the house.

While he found our later she was drunk and had mistaken him for someone older, it was still rather panic inducing. Also embarrassing for the Skullovitch brothers and Bulk. He had to stop Stan apologizing on behalf of her, and understood Bulk’s anger. Jason felt the need to make it up to Skull, and they went from antagonizing each other to friends to semi-secretly dating each other. Everyone knew except Skull’s family. Jason didn’t even know what made him angrier; the fact Skull felt he had to protect Jason, or the fact that he lived in Tommy’s house whenever Tommy’s parents didn’t live there, and Skull’s parents didn’t seem to notice. They have one adopted daughter. Skull’s a guidance counselor at their old high school, and Jason is a karate instructor. Rebecca Scott is actually Stan’s, but Stan died and his girlfriend died in a car crash caused by monster activity, and the newborn was the only survivor. Eugene would have adopted her with or without Jason there. Luckily Jason was there, and Jason fell in instalove with the baby. She was very small and he loved her.

Jason and Skull got married to make it easier for Jason to formally adopt Rebecca, in case something happened and because everyone felt distancing her and Skull from the Skullovitch legacy was the best idea, and this could be accomplished by taking Jason's last name. He was only too happy to do this. He was disinherited by his dad, but it doesn't matter. The guy lost out on getting to know a great kid. Rebecca’s blind from the car accident, and has a dog and a cane to help her around. She’s 15, and nothing stops her. She’s got a lot of caution, but very little outright fear. The power rangers will protect the civilians, and her skills and disability aids help keep her safe as well. She loves to read, and has read every braille book in the library twice. She’s aware her dads are power rangers, and most of her extended family. They’re not going to let anything happen to her. And she’s going to make sure nothing happens to them. Rebecca is opinionated with a very strong sense of right and wrong. She’s actually rather blunt, but tries to be nice about it. She knows her mind and she knows how to direct people, but she hates being in a confrontation. Not associated with a color, but it’d probably be red or bronze if she were.

Trini Kwan;

He kept asking her out until she agreed to go out with him. And actually had a nice time. So she humored him again, and again, it was nice. They weren't seeing seeing each other though, and both of them had their kids around the same time. Skull had Spike, and Trini had Minh, and they liked each other fine and loved each other's kids. They had one more, together. August Kwan. He's thirteen, and a complete introverted social butterfly. He loves showing off and gushing about his interests but he hates dealing with too many people for too long. He's really into piano, like Skull. A composer for video game music sounds like a really fun profession, so maybe when he's older he'll work towards that. But he's thirteen, he's got time. He has a stuffed animal he's been attached to since he was two, is half convinced stuffed animal is sentient, and carries it around in his hoodie or backpack. He's not ready to let it go, and Trini fully understands, supports, and gets this. When he's ready, Banjo the seal plushy, will be put beside her own childhood doll Ticklesneezer. Skull's following along with the gentle parenting; he's a bit out of his depth but he appreciates and loves that their kids are being actively supported. He's working on it, and so far the kids aren't traumatized, so something must be working.

Rito Revulto;

Eugene managed to get him and Bulk out of being turned into chimpanzees by a (justifiably) pissed off Rito by convincing him of a role reversal; Bulk and Skull be the maids, Rito and Goldar act as Bulk and Skull. But this means Goldar and Rito have to commit to the things Bulk and Skull were doing. In this case, junior officers. It is a very weird set up, but Rito likes a challenge, he and Goldar decide it's fair, and the power rangers, Vile, Zordon and Alpha and Rita and Zedd are completely confused, but Rito tends to commit to whatever he sets his mind to, and Goldar has a very specific moral code he lives by and this falls in line with it. Vile occasionally tries to cause the comedy duo to go back on their word so he can get his tool-I mean son-back, but the rangers do step in enough to help them. As does Stone, Ernie, and the others.

Eugene and Rito bond over highly shitty parents and realizing they're very similar. They're both people pleasers whose trauma responses is sarcastic quips and being class clown types. Rito turned Eugene's parents into a couple of dogs, and while he contemplated doing the same to Stan, he simply made sure Stan got a big break in the music scene. He couldn't convince Eugene to leave earth at first, until Eugene got left behind by Bulk. There was really nothing left for him on earth, so Eugene took him up on it. They're pirates, and have their own ship, and their son Elio is the apple of their eye. Elio is 26. He's cunning, fast talking, fast thinking, fast acting and has very little fear. He's as courageous as Skull and Rito try to pretend they are. He's bold, and wicked, but he's a man of his word. He has a devil's lock coloring in his hair. Stark black hair and stark white in streaks has gotten him an affectionate nickname of Skunk, but when he likes someone he asks they call him Elio. He listens to his parents and is completely loyal to them, but not out of fear. They're genuinely good at being leaders of their group, and sort of seen as the father figures of most of the crew. Elio follows his dads because he genuinely loves working for them. He did have a splash of rebelliousness in his teens though. He learned the violin, not the piano. When not pirating, they live on Mirinoi with Bulk. He's been to earth a few times, and loves fucking with JJ Oliver, it's hilarious. Not associated with a color, but he'd happily get to know a certain shade of Green.

Does Bulk especially like the lifestyle choice for his best buddy, best buddy's partner and best buddy's kid? no. Can he deny this is the happiest he's ever seen Skull? also no. He is literally living out a childhood fantasy, and thriving. Billy, however, is this close to losing it and throwing all three in a prison on Aquitar. Skull's not even sure if this is from jealousy or being a power ranger. Or the fact Elio's flirting with every ranger close to his age as a battle tactic. Some more seriously than the others.

a tangential au is where Vile kills his parents and forces Elio to work for him. He did offer him as a valid vessel to Specter, but it didn’t work. This version he does get with JJ, who went undercover on the ship to figure out what exactly happened. They manage to get Elio and the crew out of Vile's clutches safely. Elio goes from being like Rito to a lot more like comic!Skull. Divatox is partly responsible for what happens, having gotten tired of the competition.

Adam Park;

Eugene doesn't believe in himself, but Adam does, did, and always has. They started dating after Adam encouraged him to play the piano in the talent show. Adam loves his music, and they're both encouraging of each other. Aisha is a surrogate for their son, Lukas. Given how close she was to Adam, it was only natural in her mind to offer. She loves him, loves he's found happiness, and when they decided they wanted kids she wanted to help that happiness grow. Lukas Park's 17, plays piano, and volunteers at the animal shelter. Adam's a doctor and while Lukas respects and likes this, he'd rather be a veterinarian. Or, like Skull, a professional classical pianist. They support Lukas with whatever he wants to do or be, and he loves the fact he's not being pressured. Skull once sat him down with a list of every job he's ever done (the list was actually more like an entire manila folder bursting out the sides, it was frankly impressive), a ranking system and how much each profession made. Everything from a cop to a detective to an undercover agent for the government to a waiter at a bar to a judge at a pet show to rockstar to pianist-it was comprehensive and a little overwhelming, but at the end of each profession Skull said if it was what he wanted, he'd be proud. At the end it left Lukas fairly calm and certain no matter what choice he made, it'd be the right choice for him, and his dads would support him in this. not associated with a color

Aisha Campbell;

She asked him out and he thought it was a joke. It wasn't. They found they actually challenge each other in interesting ways. She also hates his mom and her parents love him, so that helped a lot. They've got a daughter, Kensie Campbell. Aged 15. Excitable by nature, is in the drama club. Has a near perfect memory, uses this for shenanigans, mostly when sassing her many many honorary aunts and uncles or annoying villains and monsters. Eugene is so, so proud. Aisha sometimes worries the know it all attitude is going to get her in trouble. However, nothing's happened-yet-and Kensie does seem to slowly be learning how to read the room. She plays piano to help her think. Her favorite is moonlight sonata. It partially annoys Skull, but his favorite composer is Bach, so it's more of a principle thing. Kensie is a soccer player, and has a very close best friend. Skull's getting the "what to in case you're kidnapped by a monster with your best friend" speech ready, just in case a group of crime fighting teenagers with attitude show up. not associated with a color

Zack Taylor;

Zack's always tried to give Bulk and Skull the benefit of the doubt and never felt any true antagonistic feelings to them. Annoyance sure, but he doesn't hate them. Eugene took a while to warm up to Zack though, because nice doesn't mean trustworthy, and the two eventually started dating when Eugene realized no, Zack really is just that sweet. They run an ice cream parlor together and have two adopted kids. Achibald "Archie" Taylor and Marigold "Mari" Taylor.

Archie was adopted in his teens, and while this means he doesn't get to have as much time growing up with Zack and Skull as his dads, he's got the rest of his life with them as his parents, and that's the best thing he's ever heard. He was adopted out of the foster care system at thirteen, and is nineteen. He loves botany and magic tricks. Being a stage magician or professional botanist would be really really cool. He doesn't play piano or dance but he loves watching Zack and loves listening to Eugene practice at night. Is unsure what he wants to do with his life, but inheriting the ice cream parlor would be nice, if the botany or the stage magician thing doesn't work out. is not associated with a color.

Mari was adopted last year. She's fourteen and getting used to living with her brother and her dads. They're kinda weird, but she likes them. It is weird going to a new school in a new town, with a new last name. She doesn't really know what she likes, she's still figuring it out, but she knows she likes it here and that's good enough. She does miss her old friends and home a little, but she is making new friends. Zack and Eugene give her space and understanding, and Archie's been great with advice and settling in. not associated with a color.

Sharkie;

They got together after Bulk left earth, but Sharkie did always prefer Bulk over Skull. They separated, but they're still friends. They have a son, Felix, aged 17, and he's seriously considering dropping out and going on a cross country road trip to find himself. He doesn't know what he wants or who he is. He's a lot like his parents, but he's not sure if that was just trying to make them happy or if he genuinely likes these things. They tried by him, he knows this. He's not even half bad. He just doesn't know if he's supposed to be having a midlife crisis at 17. Will be solar green ranger, and realize he enjoys country-rock (the kind of country rock that talks about murders, curses and being a gunslinger in a loveless land or people randomly turning into crows), has a knack for learning new languages, and likes ballet. He's been in ballet since he was four but so was Sharkie so the confirmation he likes it is nice. Also learns he likes playing piano, genuinely. Also nice. He comes home quite happy and a lot more settled into himself, and Skull and Sharkie are proud of him.

Tasha;

It was a complete accident, and they both feel really weird about it. But they kept the kid. Tuskin "Tusk" Skullovitch is lead singer in a punk band, and a bit of a bully at school. He's brilliant but finds it difficult to apply himself in anything he doesn't find an interest in. He loves puns, and loves confusing people. He likes studying rocks because rock music. It takes people a second. He's been smacked more than once over this, but doesn't mind. Bit clever, bit bored, bit of a troublemaker, bit of a pain in his parent's necks. Eugene does love his kid but wow, he's a little bit of a snot. Eugene's forced him into being a lifeguard over the summer to just-try and get this kid some sort of friendship with someone so he can have an attitude adjustment.

Marleau Eskin;

Surprisingly not the worst. He got her to be less of a bitch in an incident were they were taken together by a monster, and he actually lost his temper and snapped at her. When she tried to deflect by getting him to back down with a challenge (which to be fair normally worked), he raised an eyebrow, took a breath, and let loose. To say she had to do some soul searching after the extremely thorough roast would be putting it mildly. She stopped being as much of a mean girl, and he asked her out to prom. More as a dare, but she said yes. One thing led to another and while they don't talk anymore, they do have joint custody of their son Rusty Eskin. Marleau is the mayor of Angel Grove, Skull is a mechanic. It's kind of a whiplash every other month to go from mayor manor to an apartment over a carshop, but Rusty doesn't mind very much. Marleau's learned to be a lot nicer over the years, and she's a much milder version of herself to her son. Rusty on his part likes being at the carshop almost more than the manor, but it's less to do with Marleau and more to do with he hates the reputation he gets with "the mayor's son" and much prefers getting his hands dirty on a car with his dad. He likes problem solving, and fixing things. He likes shop class and he built his own motorcycle for one of the classes. He got his license and he's promised both parents he'll be careful. And he has been. He's also orange turbo ranger. This suits him more than fine.

Candice/Zelya;

Candice told him the truth about who she was, and to put it mildly, he was hurt. He had to put his foot down and tell her he needed to think about it. He really needed to think about what he was going to be doing, and what they were going to be. She waited, and he came back. And was accepting of it, mainly because she'd bit the bullet and been honest. However he had ground rules. She couldn't lie to him, if they had a kid (because things happen) the kid was going to be co-parented and if she wanted to raise future kids as an Eltaran fine but either they spent time on earth or Skull lived with them, or they did the best they could on earth. She was just grateful he was willing to try. Bulk eventually forgave her, when she went against her commander and stopped being the Bronze Guardian for the sake of her relationship with Skull. She fought in the Eltaran War against the Eltarans. While she was captured with the intent of re-educating, she was rescued by Jason and Billy.

They have a daughter, and Spike. Their daughter is Zephyr Skullovitch. she's sixteen, and she and Spike do get taught Eltaran tradition, as much as possible, on earth. Zephyr's got the Z name as she resembles Zelya more in a lot more ways. Spike's got more human dna here, but his sister's blue as a blueberry. Zephyr is best described as 'prickly' or 'grumpy' and the only person who gets her to smile is her brother. The pink ranger tries, but keeps striking out. Zelya wants to be an interdimensional diplomat, and travel universe to universe and see everything. She wants to see everything, know everything, experience everything. Intense, bull headed, one track minded, and has an almost destructive lack of self worth and imposter syndrome. almost. She might not believe in herself but her brother and her parents do. And the pink ranger chick. possibly. Zephyr is not associated with a color.

Matthew Cook;

Matt dives head first into the villain persona, and is happily doing so. He's thriving. Until he's forced into an ultimatum; save Bulk and Skull from certain death by the hands of Goldar, or vanquish the Solar Rangers. Against his better judgment, he saves Bulk and Skull. Skull, unfortunately for timing wise, had said he'd kiss whoever saved their lives minutes before Matt saved them. He's a man of his word, but he also punched him in the mouth immediately after. Matt's confused as hell. So instead of chasing after Kim, begins chasing after Skull because what was THAT. This leads to a very weird redemption arc because Matt has realized 2 things; he likes being kissed by Skull and he does not want Skull mad at him anymore. Cut to fifteen years later; they've got a kid of their own and no actual idea how they got there really. But, they're happy, don't hate each other's guts, their kid's thriving, it's all good. The entire empire of evil absolutely hates them though and Matt somehow managed to get himself on the shit list of Thor. As long as he doesn't go out while it's thunderstorming he should be fine.

Their son is ten, his name is Jude Cook. Jude is one of the weirdly luckiest kids alive. He's survived an insane amount of attempts on his life, falls, kidnappings, and things he should otherwise not survive. His parents have stopped asking how. Loki helped give them a son, which is partly why Thor's pissed, so they've at this point accepted demigod baby is just gonna do what a demigod baby do. It's probably for the best. Spike's his older brother, and is training with Loki to be some sort of spirit of shapeshifting mischief. They both love causing mild trouble. Like Skull, Jude's got a fear of flying which makes things a little interesting. Skull's got his sons and his partner on a very very strict promise; if the shenanigans could cause an enemy of something power, walk away. Walk far away. Neptune exists. We don't want to get on the bad side of Neptune.

in a tangential version, Billy coparents with the two, and studies demigod ten year old, and deals with the Norse gods being in his business. At the very least nobody's been sucked into Ares' prison jar, so that's good.

*Bonus Poly of Billy Cranston, Matt Cook, and Eugene Skullovitch has all above children mentioned. They live in a large house, Eugene's a famous rockstar and restaurant chain owner, and they actually use every room in said house. In this version they met via Matt asking the only person he knew with experience in bdsm for some help with his newly realized kinks; Skull's payment was pizza nights and then Billy got dragged in because he was certain Matt was abusing Skull, but realized it was fine, actually. And fun.

Au Grandchildren:

Prince Olympius;

Eugene and Bulk got dragged to hell, once, and found a little child demon who needed protection as much as they themselves did. The two survived long enough in the dimension with the kid to be rescued by Olympius and Spike. Olympius and Spike, though having known each other when they were younger, reconnected over this. Olympius named the kid Petrichor, and he was later given the nickname Pepper by the mystic red ranger Nick. Pepper is a fifteen year old power ranger, though he got his morpher when he was thirteen. His team is a team of nonhumans who all have unusual rare colors, with the exception of their sixth ranger, Deena, who is a human and a white ranger. Although Pepper is a demon that water can hurt, he is an aquaphile. He loves the ocean, he loves water planets, he loves the rain, and one day wants to study marine biology. Chipper, smart, but generally as easy going as Spike is. He is the crown prince, but knows he’s only in the position because he was adopted into it, and tries very hard to be a good prince. Be diplomatic, be strategic, have all the answers. One day he’s going to be depended on, and he needs to perfect it now. Olympius has cautioned him that even he hasn’t figured it all out, so Pepper’s going to be fine in that eventuality. Just so long as he tries, and he does. Pepper is the indigo ranger.

Mia Watanabe;

So that summer was…eventful. Skull got a grandson and a daughter in law in one fell swoop. He also moved to Panorama City because daughter in law was also a pink ranger and no, he’s not stupid. Rangers should stick to their cities with their teams. Plus Ji was making a stink and they found it easier to just smooth ruffled feathers than deal with him. Spike and Mia have one daughter. Ai Skullovitch lives with Skull while Mia and Spike are at school. She’s eight years old, and Skull loves her. Spike and Mia also dote on their daughter. The kid happens to be taste blind like Mia and feeding her and having her help in the kitchen’s always eventful. While Ji doesn’t spend much time with Ai he does give her presents and training. Neither Mia nor Spike want Ai to be a power ranger. At least. Not a Samurai Ranger, so things from Ji tend to get screened to make sure training and gifts are appropriate. Skull kinda likes being a grandpa.

Lauren Shiba;

Spike and Lauren literally had to go into hiding, and are currently holed up under assumed names with their kid. The little cabin property on the edge of a small tourist ski town in Idaho never came in so much handy for Skull. He was able to help them, and they and the four year old are riding this out up there till the drama dies down. Lauren and Spike got very good at training together, and got very close. However life got in the way for a while. Lauren had taken some time from everything to do some soul searching and finding herself, and Spike was doing a music tour. Mica is not an accident, but he's not approved of at all by Ji and the rest. Skull, however, loves him, and loves his son, and is trying to help them so the kid doesn't have to live his entire life in hiding. Mica's got brown hair, but otherwise looks a lot like Skull and Spike, which is a good thing. "Sam" and "Isabelle" are making the best of it, and are planning on homeschool if things don't change soon. Or chancing moving to Angel Grove. Skull just wants them to be happy and safe, and at least he's not alone in that.

14 notes · View notes