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#i guess they could be standalone but idk
bubble-dream-inc · 2 years
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i made my tokyo revengers ocs info cards because im fucking deranged and way too invested in my little fictional guys and gals so buckle up because this got LONG
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leqclerc · 1 year
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Do you have some sebchal recs? I try to look on ao3 but I barely find any, so I imagine most of their fics are more old
Hello! ❤️
Interestingly, I find myself having the opposite problem. I feel like the fandom - and, by extension, the interest in Seb/Charles as a ship - has grown exponentially since 2020. I think there's like forty pages of published works on ao3 right now. Which might not seem like a lot, especially when compared to other juggernaut ships or fandoms, but considering the fact that there were maybe 3 when I first looked up the tag... 😳 Anyway, over time I've kind of figured out what I like and what I don't like in relation to the ship, so these days I tend to be more selective and pick through to find what really speaks to me, what really knocks my socks off, if that makes sense. 😂 We all have different tastes, both as readers and authors, so different people will gravitate toward different things. Not everything scratches the itch, basically. TL;DR: it really depends on what you're looking for and what you like. 👀
That being said, here are some of the fics that made an impression/that I find myself coming back to:
Canon/Canon Adjacent (aka still set somewhere in the realm of F1):
postcards from places that miss you by streetlightsky T | 15,108 words ↳ Seb wanted to leave quietly. That was the one thing he had asked above all else. Or, the one where Seb retires, but Charles refuses to let him disappear. -> I honestly recommend pretty much anything by this author ⭐ immortality on their faces, night at their back by wintrs E | 16,147 words ↳ Sebastian had always wondered about Charles—but maybe he’d known the truth all along, and he’d just never let himself acknowledge it. no flowers, no flashbulbs by superoxide E | 10,736 words ↳ Sebastian frowns, without thinking. They’d both ridiculed the idea of some kind of staged paparazzi friendliness when it had come up. He wonders what has turned Charles around on the idea so suddenly. (Charles has a plan to improve their image; Sebastian is less convinced.) see you falling by redpaint E | 3,653 words ↳ “I can’t— There are no words. No words. I just need to get this out of my head, okay? Before you go.” -> I honestly recommend pretty much anything by this author, especially the 'conflict resolution' series for that 2019 feel⭐ those who miss each other by sionisjaune E | 8,401 words ↳ Charles’s phone is burning a hole in his pocket. This is something he should be filming, but he doesn’t want to. He thinks he shouldn’t, for some reason. He thinks he can keep this encounter for himself. + bonus: (yes I'm sharing my own fic shhhh) been a long year by ssilverarrowss M | 7,123 words ↳ The days stubbornly march forward. Sometimes it feels agonisingly slow, and sometimes it feels like everything is moving too quickly, like Charles is going to blink and all the time he’s spent with Sebastian will be in the rearview, gone forever.
Alternate Universe:
scenes from an american artist by tetrapod M | 9,389 words ↳ Excerpt from an interview with Charles Leclerc. August 1974. Q: How did it all end? CL: The way all relationships end, I suppose. Inevitably. flesh of my flesh by charlotte_stant E | 4,749 words ↳ Sebastian, still smiling, tilts his head and looks at Charles speculatively. “Can I take you for a drive, Father?" he asks. "To continue our conversation. I find myself in need of… spiritual direction.” Charles ought to say no, but he doesn’t even consider it, not really. Sometimes falling is like that: as easy as opening your mouth and saying “Yes.” the language of another world by redpaint G | 2,568 words ↳ Charles is sent down from Oxford (drunkenness, absenteeism, behavior unbecoming of a Balliol man) and becomes the research assistant to a botanist who is doing fieldwork in the Shetland Islands. and VASI to guide you in by anonymous T | 1,375 words ↳ Nobody at the tiny Aeroporto di Maranello Enzo Ferrari can figure out why and how the runway lights manage to stay on through the night—long after curfew and long after the last worker has left the premises, taking the main ops key with them. However, newly promoted Captain Charles Leclerc of floundering charter airline Ferrari Air knows the answer to that question. He just won’t tell it to anyone. Ever. the tools to rebuild by astronomical_light T | 22,645 words ↳ After months of stagnating in his recovery following a high-speed crash, Charles gets referred to a specialist clinic tucked away in the Swiss mountainside that feels as much like a high-end wellness retreat as it does a physical rehabilitation program. He doesn’t have many expectations going into it, but he knows one thing for sure—he definitely wasn’t expecting Sebastian.
Seb/Charles feat. other pairings:
stringe il cuore della stella morente by partywitharichzombie E | 14,634 words ↳ The announcement is almost poetic in its sweet simplicity: a photo of Daniel, aged three, the cavallino rampante a stark contrast against the white of his oversized t-shirt, radiant grin as disarming then as it is now. No caption. None necessary. (Daniel signs with Ferrari for 2021 and beyond. He hopes he and Charles can avoid ending up in a scenario of assured mutual destruction.) high speed weekend survivor by babypapaya T | 18,608 words ↳ Formula Student is a student engineering competition held annually in the UK. Student teams from around the world design, build, test, and race a small-scale formula style racing car. (in) clover by tetrapod T | 5,895 words ↳ “I was thinking we could take the boat out,” Charles said. spacetime invariants by distressedgremlin M | 6,615 words ↳ Lewis arrived midway through the season of dust storms. Sebastian met him on a shabby starport that barely clung to the atmosphere of a frozen-over planet, the only one within forty light-days’ distance that the dust did not reach.
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26labrd · 2 years
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What do you think of Jamie Bell's version of Tintin in the 2011 movie? I personally find Jamie's delievery of his lines and the facial expressions he makes to be satisfying and attractive so I love it. However, I do recognize some differences in the way movie Tintin acts compared to the comic version.
In the comics Tintin has an easygoing personality and is rarely annoyed. He's very patient yknow. While the movie Tintin looks very done with everyone lol. He's patient too, except that it's the bitch-im-this-close-to-snap kind of patience lol. I don't have a problem with it, I think it adds great comedy, plus it's a realistic & relatable reaction considering how the guy is surrounded by airheaded/distracted characters.
They got his curiosity/obsession and quick-thinking and some other tiny personality details right though. The movie Tintin doesn't feel far away from the original one, it just seems less "childish" and more relatable? Movie Tintin feels 25+ years old to me, meanwhile comic Tintin feels 15-20 years old because of how happy/energetic and "unbothered" he seems with many problems? (Although I think Tintin being 25+ makes more sense even though I know Herge thinks of him as 16-17, smth like that)
A scene I can think of where Jamie's Tintin acted so much like the comic version was when the captain asked him how much he knew about the unicorn and he replied with "Not a lot, that's why I'm asking you" he looked & sounded so cute and very comic Tintin-ish imo.
All in all I love Jamie's Tintin and ngl watching him makes me feel butterflies lol. But I can't help compare him to the comic Tintin and be reminded of their differences. I wonder if that's because of the script or just Jamie's way of portraying him?
Anyways, I wanted to know what you think. Maybe you can write a comparison post about Jamie Bell and Jean Pierre's portrayals of Tintin? Not like a "this one is better" comparison, just an analysis. Yeah just a suggestion.
Thanks for reading this far and I'm excited to read your thoughts on this topic!
sorry it took a little while for me to answer this! it was hard to organize my thoughts – which, it turns out, i have a lot of, so i’m putting this under a cut.
overall, i liked his performance, yeah! i think he’s a fine tintin. i think they did some things really well with him, like his curiosity and drive, as you mentioned, as well as his confidence and self-assuredness (the scene that comes to mind for these is the “we’ve got one bullet” scene). i know jamie bell is a dancer, too, which helped him nail the physical aspects of playing the character.
as for the differences, i think the main ones you listed – his impatience, annoyance, and less easygoing nature – just have to do with the stories they chose to adapt. in crab with the golden claws, tintin is indeed often shown losing his patience with the captain; in unicorn he gets cranky when barnaby and sakharine don’t stop pestering him, and when the woman hogs the phone booth in the rain. it wouldn’t be my personal go-to for a tintin portrayal to have these traits so forefront, but it provides more depth to his character/gives him more of a personality and makes him more well-rounded.
bc like. tintin in the comics is kind of bland LOL. which i'm pretty sure was mostly by design. we see him develop and gain more of a personality as the series progresses but for a lot of it he is kind of left blank. so the script writers had to fill in these gaps and round out the character in order to make the sort of protagonist that could carry a feature-length film. and i think they did a decent job! generally i think movie-tintin’s traits make sense and feel like a natural progression of the comics character. he is still recognizable as tintin, but just an older and more grown-up version of his comics counterpart, like you said.
that being said . there is just something about this version of tintin that is just a little bit off. and i cannot put my finger on it. this section will be more incoherent because i'm really struggling to put it into words lol. but he just doesn’t Feel like tintin to me... like. i think he’s a little too serious tbh . i wish they had let him get a little playful with it, but tonally i dont think it would have worked. and i think there’s just a lightness and a warmth that’s missing from this portrayal. not that i wanted him to be happy all the time or whatever, but he feels closed off in a way that tintin never has to me, so it feels just a little off to see him portrayed like this. like there’s a difference between closed off and reserved, and i think movie-tintin is closed off, whereas comics-tintin is just reserved. i don’t know if that makes any sense. at this point i'm just going off vibe rather than anything concrete that i can cite lol im sorry this is so nebulous
AND HONESTLY i think for me it also has to do with the fact that they made him do that posh english accent 😭😭😭 it just feels so wrong to me. like maybe i'm just too used to hearing him with a canadian accent (shoutout to the 90s cartoon) but. yeah. and i know that’s not jamie bell’s natural accent either, so it feels doubly weird
all this to say yes, i do like jamie bell as tintin and i think he did a wonderful job, and i think that this version of tintin makes sense, even though he doesn’t quite fully Feel like tintin to me
i don’t know that i'll write a comparison post, just because it seems kind of daunting and because i'm not super confident in my grasp of tintin as a character. which i know is ironic to say, given that i just wrote a bunch about tintin as a character, but this post is largely just opinion, and for something as “official” as a comparison analysis i’d definitely have to go back and reread/rewatch to be able to say anything with any confidence. it's certainly something i'd like to do at some point! i have a lot of thoughts about jean-pierre’s tintin as well and would love any excuse to talk about him. (spoiler alert: i think jean-pierre feels like tintin way more)
but anyway, thanks for your question!
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soullesscircuits · 2 years
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Ok ok ok I gotta gauge responses here. I've finally been compelled back into the writing scene and I'm not sure how folks like their fics anymore?
I've got a few options for the one I'm working on now (as well as a few more I have half-planned). I can release One Hugelong Fic as an extended oneshot (like, 12-15k probably?) and release the rest separately
I can break it down into chapters of 2-3k words each (and release the rest separately OR integrate them as chapters)
I can release it as a collection of oneshots that includes this one and the other ones as like. A semi-coherent Cinematic Universe (same as above but each one stands relatively alone, building on past Lore but not strictly relying on it)
I can cut out a ton of the structure and unnecessary bits and release it as a much shorter and more streamlined thing (with lots of Lost Lore that isn't strictly relevant to plot- potentially released as a separate thing or kept to myself or revealed through readers questions)
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bookyeom · 4 months
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pairing: wonwoo x reader word count: 2.3k warnings: a couple of swears, kissing
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Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.
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idk by jeffrey lenh, joanna
i think that i’ve been falling ever since that day out in the park and i don’t know if this is love, but maybe this could be the start
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“I guess this isn’t so bad.”
You open one eye, looking up at Wonwoo from where you’re laying in the grass. His back is resting against a tree, and you watch as the breeze catches a few strands of his hair. It makes you smile, how calm and content he looks.
”I won’t say I told you so, but…”
Wonwoo rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth is turned up in a smile. Your eyes don’t leave him as he pushes his glasses up with a finger, his eyes taking in the surrounding park. You like seeing him like this. You’ve managed to drag him out of his dorm room on the first warm, sunny day of the year, and you’re glad he came. You’re always glad when he’s with you, but seeing him bask in the first golden glow of spring is something else.
“You just didn’t want to do this alone, and I was your last resort.”
You tsk, closing your eyes again, letting the warmth of the sun wash over your face. “That’s not true. You’re not my last resort, you’re my charity case. Helping the old man get out of his house and all that.” 
Wonwoo gasps dramatically, and you can’t help the giggle that leaves you at the sound. The two of you fall back into contented silence, the only sounds around you coming from the wind in the trees and some children playing across the field. 
“Seriously,” he speaks up again a few minutes later. “Thanks for forcing me to get off of my computer and outside for a bit. It’s a nice reminder that since winter is finally over, I can take a break from writing essays and gaming inside. So, thanks.”
You’re beaming up at him, even as he avoids your eyes after his little speech, but you know he knows you’re looking. “Glad you’re here,” is all you say. When he sends a smile your way, you know you’ve said the right thing.
You’re so warm — inside and out — that you can’t help but doze off. It’s a little while later when you stir, your eyes fluttering open as you come to. You startle when you realize that you must have nuzzled into the warmth of Wonwoo’s thigh while you slept, and you wince. Then your next thought has you realizing something even worse: his hand is gently resting on your head, and his thumb is brushing soothing circles into your scalp. 
Your breath catches. It feels so intimate, and you know that you absolutely cannot succumb to how you’re feeling, because it’s Wonwoo, and Wonwoo definitely, absolutely, 100% does not like you back. 
You make a show of stretching your toes, and as you predicted, Wonwoo’s movements stop. He drops his hand as you roll onto your back, and you try desperately to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Sorry I fell asleep,” you say, and Wonwoo shrugs, lifting a hand to run through his hair. 
“It’s all good.”
And that’s that.
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You watch as Wonwoo games from your spot on his bed, his fingers clicking so fast it makes your head spin. You’re supposed to go out for something to eat soon, but he’d begged you to let him finish one more game. You’d pouted, but you don’t really mind waiting. 
You flop down on his bed, arms falling dramatically out to your sides. It’s been a long few weeks as you and your friends prep for your final papers and exams. The only time you’ve been able to see anyone is when you eat together, and Wonwoo is no exception. It’s been a week or so since you saw him last, and you wish the sight of him would stop making you feel the way it does. That doesn’t seem likely anytime soon, considering that when he’d opened the door tonight, his greeting smile alone had rendered you breathless. Lately, you’re more excited to see Wonwoo than a kid in a candy store, and you’re not sure what you're supposed to do about it.
Because Wonwoo doesn’t like you like that.
“Alright, GamerGirl17. I’m out. Good game.”
Your ears perk up at the username. GamerGirl17. You hear about her from Wonwoo all the time. Apparently, he’s made friends with one of the top players in his favourite game. You can’t believe you’re jealous of an online friend, but you happen to know through Wonwoo that she only lives a couple of hours away. Maybe they were dating already and Wonwoo just hadn’t told anyone? 
Wonwoo regales you with the mission the two of them had just completed as you walk to the restaurant, explaining why it had been so important to finish. You’re not a gamer yourself, but Wonwoo always listens to you talk about your niche hobbies, so you’re always willing to listen to him. 
Except today, apparently, because for some reason you’re more irritated than usual about the topic of Miss Gamer Girl. 
“Have you asked her out?” 
You interrupt Wonwoo mid-speech. You don’t look at him as you ask, but you can tell he’s surprised by the way he stumbles a bit, catching himself before he trips into a garden of freshly blooming flowers. 
“Huh? Who?”
You glance at him as you near the burger place. “GamerGirl17.”
Wonwoo’s footsteps slow, and you raise your eyebrows at him. He doesn’t say anything else for a minute as you enter the restaurant. It isn’t until you’ve sat down and ordered drinks that he answers you, and you clench your fists in an attempt to stay calm.
“I’m not going to ask her out,” Wonwoo says, and you meet his gaze. He looks embarrassed to say it.
“Why? You like her, no?”
Wonwoo’s mouth opens and closes a bit. He looks down and away from you, suddenly finding something on his empty plate far more interesting. “Um,” he tries again, “I’m not really interested in… in dating anyone right now, I guess?” 
Your heart sinks as you try to decide if that’s better or worse for you. You think worse.
Ouch.
”Oh,” you reply with a slow nod. You clear your throat. “That’s cool, then. I just wasn’t sure, that’s all.”
Your food arrives soon after, and you try to push past the awkward conversation by asking for pictures of Wonwoo’s parents’ new puppy. It works to distract him, but you don’t forget his comment. 
I’m not interested in anyone right now.
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“I’m sorry for the last minute notice,” you offer as you wait by Wonwoo’s door. “I didn’t know I left it here.”
He hums in acknowledgement as he grabs your cardigan from the back of his chair. “It’s all good.” 
You try to ignore the once over he gives you as he hands you the sweater. You’re dressed up, and you feel a bit embarrassed under his gaze, though you’re not sure why. “Thanks.”
“Where…” Wonwoo trails off, and you watch as he leans against the doorframe. He’s gathering his thoughts, and you hate that he’s got you feeling nervous for no reason, even now when you’re about to go on your first date in months. You know you look nice dressed up in your cute flower pattern outfit for spring, but you feel so shy when he looks at you. “Where are you going?” 
“Um,” you clear your throat, “Kwan set me up on a date with a friend of his.”
Wonwoo’s eyes widen, and he straightens. You wish you could disappear into the floor. “Oh.”
”Yeah.” Your cheeks are on fire. You need to leave, now. You pretend to glance at your phone as you say, “I should probably get going.” You hold up the cardigan. “Thanks for the missing piece of my outfit.” 
As you turn to leave, your eyes squeeze shut briefly. It hurts to know he doesn’t want you in the same way, but you think you’ve just officially confirmed it. You inhale a shaky breath, willing the tears to remain at bay as you descend the stairs to the lobby. 
You’ve almost reached the front door when you hear footsteps rapidly approaching behind you, and you turn in surprise. Your heart jumps into your throat when you realize it’s Wonwoo, barefoot and out of breath.
“Wonwoo, what—“
“Don’t go.”
You pause. “What?”
“Don’t go,” he repeats, and you’re confused. He can’t mean what you think he means, not after all this time. Your lip starts to tremble. 
He seems to notice, a hand lifting in your direction as he takes a step closer, and your breath catches. He doesn’t touch you, though, just looks at you for a moment, mouth opening and closing. Then he quickly glances around the room. The only other people around are the Resident Assistant at his desk and a couple of other students walking in and out of the building. After a second, Wonwoo gently takes you by the elbow and around the corner so you’re tucked away, and he’s suddenly so close that you can’t breathe. 
“When I said I didn’t want to date anyone right now, I meant anyone else. Other people.” His words are jumbled and rushed, and your eyebrows knit together.
Your back slumps to rest against the wall behind you. He’s not making sense, but you have a feeling in your stomach, and you can’t believe what you think is happening here. You can’t. “Wonwoo,” you say quietly, voice trembling, “You need to be super clear with me right now, because I can’t…”
You trail off, and Wonwoo steps even closer. The proximity causes you to straighten, every single part of you on edge. You still don’t know if it’s good or bad.
His eyes search yours. Then he speaks, voice so soft and sure that you think it surprises even him. “I meant that I don’t want to date anyone other than you.”
Your mouth falls open. You search his face, desperately trying to comprehend what he’s just said. You can tell he’s nervous, and your immediate instinct would usually be to comfort him, but right now, you can’t think. You can’t breathe. When you don’t say anything, he takes a step back. 
“I’m sorry. You can go on your date, I just… I needed you to know—“
“Wonwoo.” It comes out strangled, but you had to say something. Anything to stop him from leaving. He stops, and all you can do is shake your head in disbelief. He gives you a moment, his gaze falling to the floor, but you can’t look away from him. “If you mean that,” you say slowly, “then I’m not going anywhere.”
Wonwoo blinks back at you. It’s almost comical, how wide his eyes have gotten behind his glasses. The way you can practically see him buffering. 
“You’re not?” He finally says, and you can hear the relief in his voice. It makes your heart ache a little, because how can he not know how you feel? You shake your head. 
“Unless you have other plans.” Your voice is shy, uncertain, but he’s quick to quell your fears.
“No,” he says, firm. “I’m all yours.” 
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The second the door to his room closes, you’re in his arms. You’re feeling so unbelievably shy at all these new revelations, and you can tell he is, too. He stumbles a bit when you wrap your arms around his waist, face pressed to his chest, but he’s quick to respond. His arms pull you in tight as he laughs, and you can feel it against your cheek. 
You don’t remember the last time you felt this nervous. 
“Wonwoo?”
He hums, and you gather enough courage to pull back and look up at him. When your eyes meet, you have to resist the urge to hide your face from him again. He looks so fond. So happy.
You don’t know what you were going to say as your gaze falls to his mouth. You watch as he swallows, his fingers gently squeezing where they rest on your waist in an attempt to help you refocus, but it’s a lost cause. 
“You’d think I’ve never kissed anyone before with how nervous I am right now.”
The words are out before you can stop them, and you’re absolutely mortified. Your hands immediately lift to cover your face. A few seconds of silence pass, and then you realize that Wonwoo is laughing. 
“Oh, is that what we’re about to do? Kiss?” 
You freeze. Is he… teasing you?
“What happened to shy Wonwoo from before? Bring him back,” you whine, hands falling from your face to send him a glare. 
“He knows you like him back now, so he’s a bit more confident.” He’s grinning, and you pout. He quirks an eyebrow, one hand lifting to your jaw as he adds, “He knows now that he makes you nervous.”
You would be absolutely scandalized by his words if it weren’t for what happens next. Because suddenly he’s kissing you, and all bets are off. 
It’s not much, just a soft press of his mouth to yours, but it’s enough. 
“For the record,” Wonwoo says as he pulls away, and you vaguely register the flush of his cheeks under the dim lamplight, “you make me nervous as hell, too.”
“For the record,” you smile, “I don’t want to go on a date with anyone that’s not you, either.”
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A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on pov! Here’s the second of our Thirteen Valentines. I can only see Nana Tour Glasses!Wonwoo, all the time.
Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :)
Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars @darkypooo @christinewithluv
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heyidkyay · 21 days
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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |
Part Twenty-Four
Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.
What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?
Authors note: I’m here:) finally. It’s been a while, idk how long, not that long but long enough i guess, sorry for the wait! This one is wordy but also has a lot going on, so hope you enjoy!
Ngl, this can probably be read as a standalone if anyone’s seeing this and not started the series, it’s just a bit angsty and mostly smut? But unsure, I said probably! X
Warnings: Arguing, usual Matty and Mouse thinking (feels like it needs its own warning at this point, they’re saddos), smut, unprotected sex, EMOTIONS (because yeah)
> Last update: look back here if you'd like!
Masterlist
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There was something raw in the bitterness that was love. Like the sour skin of an apple that was first thought to be sweet. Love was deceiving in itself really, but it was never alone. It brought life and light. It wrought anger. It stirred both jealousy and pity. It gave and gave, until all you were left with was that tart tang aftertaste. 
Some people revelled in it.
Others, withered away.
Years before, perhaps maybe not even that long ago now, Matty would have belonged to the former. He had enjoyed the strings he found that could tie him to people, sex and money had given him the ability to do it, to keep them there, to pull them alongside him. And he’d indulged in it all, beyond what most would consider extortionate. 
And still, even after everything, when the fun had ended and the games had been discarded, and he’d just been tossed off somewhere to the side… Alone once more. He had continued on. On and on and on, until he ultimately had lost himself completely.
The last few months had shifted something in him though.
And now here he was, still angry and bitter and resentful. But full of actual love. The raw type. The kind that left you marvelling at the most stupid things— insipid little concepts that held no actual value or any real detail worth getting all starry-eyed over.
It had wormed its way into the hollow shell that was his heart and rebuilt some part of him that he believed he had long since destroyed.
He wanted to scoff at the very thought. The very idea that an emotion could be felt so strongly that it differed the world around you; that, singularly, it could change you. The notion was far too complex, too out there to even begin to fathom, but then again, Matty supposed that emotions were exactly that. Complex.
It sent his mind reeling. Had his entire body aching with a fever to expel the feeling completely, if only so that he could think freely again, so it wouldn’t hurt to merely breathe anymore.
You should have told me.
He knew that. He had admitted as much.
And yet, he still hadn’t told her.
He’d lied.
Why didn’t you tell me?
And that was the question, wasn’t it? Why hadn’t he just told her?
Fear, he guessed.
Yet another morbid emotion in which Matty had always been so wary of. Another lost feeling he thought he’d swallowed whole and hidden somewhere deep down. Because there was no fear in a drug induced haze. When you were off partying or chasing some other euphoric high. What the fuck was there to be fearful of? When the chilling buzz which shook you to your very core blanketed over everything else.
When there was always that silence.
That numb quiet he had chased and craved and cherished.
Though, he supposed, it was nothing compared to the fear of losing this.
Of losing her.
Still, Matty could not for the life of him find it in himself to tell her exactly that. Those words lost on him, lodged in the column of his throat and etching themselves a home there.
“Where do we go from here?”
He blinked at the sound of his own voice, looking up at her shadowed expression and at how tired she then seemed. How different she now looked compared to the moment they’d first met. 
She’d been something of a presence even then. Always effortlessly complex. With her soft smile and guarded eyes. Eyes he’d gone and fucking wondered about for hours on end.
Those eyes which were now caught on the far wall stood opposite, the one lined with coloured photo frames and that odd little doodle Teddy had gotten in trouble for only a couple of weeks prior. 
The realisation made Matty mourn the few days they’d spent apart.
After a long moment, she finally shrugged at him and he found himself swallowing tightly at the movement. Startled by her seeming lack of care. 
“I don’t want to lose you, Squeaks.” 
It was honest. As honest as he could be.
She huffed an amused breath in return though, “Not like you’re short on company, Matty.”
He felt his gaze snap up to meet hers then, head shifting with it. 
“What’s that even meant to mean?” He asked her, frowning now, at the way she had crossed her arms over her chest and how her shoulders had hunched on their own accord whilst she casually moved to glance out the window. Matty forced himself up onto his feet, hating the fact she had turned away from him.
“I saw everything, Matty.” Mouse replied tiredly, as though she was fed up, fed up with this, with them. “I saw the articles.”
Matty’s stomach bottomed out at her words, he stepped towards her. “Nothing happened.” He murmured, taking another step closer. “Nothing fucking happened, Squeaks. I swear it.”
She tensed but didn’t quite flinch at his sudden approach, so he kept a little distance between them, even as desperate as he was to hold her. To shake her enough so that she would see sense, that she’d realise how stupid he would have had to have been to have gone near anyone else. That girl was no one, she’d meant nothing. 
“You can swear that, can you?” She mocked him, one corner of her mouth toying with a merciless smile that didn’t quite suit her. “You were gone, Matty. Fucking out of it. That much was clear to see just from the photos alone.”
Matty stared at her helplessly.
She shook her head.
“I’d had a couple drinks. That isn’t a crime!” He stressed, automatically falling onto the defensive, “Didn’t mean I was stupid enough to get with the first person I fucking saw! That girl- she was off her head too. Had mates with her even! But she was just trying to help me, Mouse. That’s all it was.” 
She was shaking her head again now, tongue catching on her incisor; a dead giveaway to how stressed she was, how anxious she was getting. Matty only wished to shoulder it all, that defensiveness of his faltering slightly at the sight of her trying to hide it all. To stay strong. How fucking long had she had to do that?
“I feel like such a fool, Matty.” She finally spoke, her voice trembling with the onslaught of tears that glazed her eyes but she didn’t dare let fall. “A fucking fool. ‘Cause I’d thought that things were okay, that we were okay. That I could finally relax and let you in. But then-“ She paused, a sad huff leaving her, “Then you went and dropped this mess in my lap and somehow expected me to just deal with it. To tell you it’s all fine. That we could make it right.”
Mouse turned then, ever so slowly, looking about as defeated as Matty had ever seen her. He felt his chest burn with the last breath he hadn’t remembered taking let alone hold onto, too afraid to look away, to even move. 
“But you embarrassed me. You’ve made the whole world believe I am that fool. That I was as naive as they’d first made me out to be. As my friends thought me to be.” 
Her smile was shattered and broken, her voice wet and hoarse, but she continued on even as her hands fell limply to her sides and she took a single step closer.
“And to make things worse, you didn’t just hurt me, Matty. You hurt Teddy too.”
Hit them where it hurts.
That was the saying, wasn’t it?
But it only left me feeling all the more sour- gutless. As well as a little stupid, I supposed, wondering if Matty even cared for Teddy at all, or how he had felt the last couple days.
Though I shouldn’t have second guessed it, not when the way Matty’s face immediately paled and then fell proved me wrong. 
Deep down, I knew that he cared. In his own odd way he had always cared. But to know it and to see it were two entirely different things.
And although it was true, that Matty had in fact hurt Teddy. It still felt like a shitty thing to say to him then. But he’d hurt me as well, hadn’t he. And even though I’d been hurting most of my life, Matty being the reason for all that hurt pained me in a way I couldn’t even comprehend. 
“I didn’t-”
I scoffed at his attempted reply, but my heart wasn’t in it, breaking all over again. I wondered how long we could drag this out. If we even would.
“Mean to?” I finished for him, shaking my head stupidly. “I know you didn’t mean to, Matty. Doesn’t change the fact that you still did it.”
His eyes slipped closed just as his lips fell apart, and when he opened them again I was stuck staring into his devastated gaze. 
“If I could take it all back, I would.” He breathed, “I promise you I would.”
I swallowed back my own tears, even as they burned and pricked at my throat and eyes. “But you can’t.”
And it was as simple as that, wasn’t it? He couldn’t ever take it back. 
I don’t want to lose you.
He knew just how to get under my skin, past all that rusted armour of mine.
It was what made this all so much harder. 
“Tell me what to do, Squeaks.” Matty croaked pleadingly, hand reaching out towards me before he looked down at it, blinked, and then let it fall. “I’ll do it, just– tell me.”
What was left that he could do? When it felt like things had so suddenly and so horrifically fallen out from under us.
“I don't know.” I told him honestly, in a barely there whisper, “I just don't know, Matty.”
He stepped even closer then, hand moving to capture my jaw in a determined haste, not restraining himself like he had just moments before. I tried to pull away, titling my chin and looking off to the side as I clenched my teeth, but his thumb was there, luring me back in, forcing me to meet his eye.
“I’m not just gonna give up.” His other hand jumped to cradle my face, a cushion to those heated words. 
I was reluctant in my needless wanting, desperate to be held whilst simultaneously wanting to push him away. So I lifted my hands up to cover his own, unsure of the choice they’d make. To stay, or go.
“It’s not about that, Matty.” I heard myself say pathetically, voice wavering with each word, “You can’t just forget this.”
His dark eyes were trained on me, flickering over every square inch of my scarred face. I’d never felt insecure about them when I was around him, but this moment felt too heated, too high strung. And I’d been burning the candle at both ends the last few days, so with him being this close, this intense, every emotion I’d felt was brimming closer and closer to the surface. 
Instead of facing him, I turned away, hiding once more as I worked my jaw and felt my hands slip down to the backs of his forearms.
A shared breath and then,
“Don’t do that.” Matty whispered in the quiet, almost begging. “Don’t hide from me.”
His thumb smoothed over the skin of my cheek and I was all but putty in hands, looking back at him just as a tear escaped me and slid to meet the pad of it. 
Matty brushed the tear away without thought, before he leant in to rest his forehead against my own. The action forced me to cling tighter to his arms, eyes closing to keep from embarrassing myself any further. I wouldn’t cry. 
I wouldn’t cry.
“Look at me.” He demanded, nose so close that I could practically sense its phantom touch. And foolishly, I did as he asked. “You-” His breath stuttered as his eyes pleaded with me, sounding forced as it broke free from him, his fingers making a home for themselves in my hair. 
“You don’t know what you do to me. How much of a mess I’ve made of myself. How much I have missed you.” Matty confessed, his voice quiet in the small space shared between us, in a place where we were both sheltered and unseen. “And I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry. Enough that I’ll keep on repeating it until you fucking believe me. Enough that I’d do just about anything for you to see how much I want this.”
He sucked in a breath, and I blinked back at him, lips tingling with the sensation of his proximity. 
“I know I messed up. I know.” He repeated, eyes flickering back and forth between my own whilst his thumbs trailed the line of my hair. “But all I’m asking for is a chance to make it right. To be better. Squeaks, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if I could.”
His breath was tickling the skin of my cheek as well as the corner of my mouth, it almost made it difficult to think let alone remember how to breathe. I wanted–
Suddenly my eyes were looking down, focused on his parted mouth, on the stubble he’d let grow across the cut of his chin as well as his upper lip. His nose finally brushed past my own, touching ever so carefully as one or both of us pressed nearer, almost there, inching closer but not close enough.
“Tell me no.” 
Instantly, I was thrown back to that first night he kissed me. I hadn’t told him no then, and for some reason I couldn’t find it in me to decline him now. 
So instead I took, all but biting as my hand cradled the back of his neck and closed that short amount of distance between us. My nails dug into the exposed skin of his nape, where the collar of his shirt jumped with each move he made. My teeth nipped at his lower lip, angry in my attempt to swallow him whole, teeth clashing as we both stumbled, moving and moving until Matty’s back hit the nearest wall.
How the roles had reversed, I thought to myself as Matty’s shoulders flexed beneath his shirt and jumped under my ever roaming hands. I hated the desire that it stirred through me, knowing how easily he could take back control with his carefully contained strength. But he didn’t, instead he gave my fury something to latch onto.
My hand lifted to pin one of his wrists somewhere to the left of his head, glare not wavering even as his stubborn gaze met my own. He was as riled up as me.
“You have some nerve.” I all but spat, watching on as his chest rose and fell, questioning how quickly everything had switched.
“Yeah?” Matty bit back, those familiar brown eyes- a colour that had always brought me comfort- were blazing now as they trailed over the flush that I was sure lined my face. “Why’s that? You’re the one with me pinned, darlin’.” 
His heavy gaze traced the bow of my lip, slumping ever slightly in his stance so that his head could fall closer forward. My breath hitched.
That was all he needed apparently, to earn the upper hand here. Because in a moment, the room was spinning and then I was the one being crowded against the wall, fury be damned.
Contrary to my previous endeavour, Matty’s touch was still as careful as ever, making it that much more obvious that I could slip away if I so wanted. But the question was whether or not I did.
“Matty–”
But he just carried on, as though he hadn’t even heard me speak, voice a low breathy murmur. 
“I’ve been stuck in this endless loop. Driving myself mad.” He told me, his knee angled enough so that he could let his head dip towards the juncture of my neck, his mouth pausing by the shell of my ear whilst a finger gently trailed its way up over my hip. “Wonderin’ if I’d lost this for good.”
My heart pounded in my chest as the ghost of his words tickled my skin, tensing when his nose ever so slightly grazed my jaw. 
That finger of his continued to move, working its way up my torso, jumping across my ribs and up to the bone of my collar. My gaze was fixed on the opposing wall, on the mirror that framed my dazed face and the back of his head. My hand worked its way into his unruly curls.
“But you’re as stubborn as me, see.” Matty added, luring me in, “And I’m not the type to give up on a sure thing.” His words held enough bite that I snapped back to meet his stare, he tilted his head at me whilst I scowled.
“Excuse me?”
Matty smiled, lids heavy as his careful hand danced its way back down my front. 
“And this,” He said, almost in a whisper, ignoring my retort as he hooked my leg around his waist, “This is a sure thing.”
A soft breath escaped me even as I batted his hand away, but he simply reached up to grip at my chin, touch tender even with the way his calloused thumb dragged down my lower lip.
I was slowly beginning to imagine that this was all a dream, something my sick mind had gone and conjured up in hopes to ignore all of the hurt he had put me through. Because this couldn’t be right, things couldn’t have fallen back into place this easily. 
“Matty.” I tried again, firmer this time, but was captured by the look his eyes held, probably having understood the expression that must have just crossed my face.
“What did you do, Squeaks?” He asked me almost hurriedly, shaking my chin between his forefinger and thumb, my previous anger and doubt melting slightly as I leaned further into his touch. “Did you want me to hurt, too?”
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question, his swift change in topic. Baffled by the fact that he was now trying to pin this back on me. 
Was that really what this was? I wanted to ask.
Matty didn’t give me the opportunity to say a thing though. My surprise had stalled me briefly, but it had evidently been long enough to allow him to simply carry on.
“What did you do, eh? Tell me.” He breathed before he pressed his mouth to my jaw, once and then twice, pulling away just as I tilted my head to accommodate him, “Did you go out, baby? Find somebody else? Or did you just stay here, waiting for me?”
I reeled back, anger spiking again. “Fuck you.”
Matty’s eyes flickered back and forth between mine. 
“I’m trying to get you to.” He said, always so brazen and snarky, even in the moments where I hated him most. The hand I had previously slapped away went back to the leg he still had draped over his hip, snaking up over my knee and to my thigh. 
My glare didn’t waiver, even as my breathing picked up at the pressure his fingertips wrought on my skin. 
“Tell me no.” He finally repeated, eyes failing to meet mine. And how was I supposed to? When having him this close brought back that fire he’d put out in me, when he was kissing my neck so sweetly?
“We’ll regret it.” It was as close to a no as I could get, enough to have him pause. Matty looked to me then, his hold loosening on my body but still holding. Hoping.
“Do you care?”
I marvelled at the question, did I care?
I cared so much it pained me.
But he hadn’t meant it like that. That much I knew.
Do you care if you regret it? Because, what if you don’t? 
With Matty there was always chance– he was the type to play the odds, to push his luck.
What if.
What if, what if, what if?
Shaking my head, I was forced to question if he understood me as much as I did him. If he could see each of my thoughts just as they dawned on me, flashing across my face like a story being told. 
Then I wondered whether or not I even wanted him to understand. This, this thing we were doing would only further complicate things between us, but perhaps this could be a goodbye.
But, if this was a goodbye, why was he looking at me like that? Watching and waiting for me to truly answer.
Tell me no, he’d said.
Matty’s gaze swept over my face, as though trying to read me, maybe in hopes to find what it was he was really searching for. 
Tell me no.
“Please.”
And my resolve broke at the word.
“Okay.” I heard myself say in reply, nodding quickly, and that was seemingly all the permission he needed before Matty was wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me towards him fully.
My hands floundered momentarily before they were back on his shoulders, his teeth nipping at my neck. 
I moaned, eyes falling shut as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses down my skin, teeth scraping before his tongue swirled to soothe their angry ambush. I could smell him everywhere now, the shampoo I was so used to stealing, as well as the only aftershave he’d ever claimed to like.
His hips rolled into mine, pressing himself right against the fabric of my trousers and the underwear which had grown damp during our heated argument. 
I didn’t want to linger too long on the thought of my body’s obvious betrayal, too caught up in him to think about how wrong this should all feel.
“Shit.” Matty groaned, breath catching with it as he continued to grind against me.
I gasped back, grabbing at him harder as he bit down on the curve of my neck. I nipped at his jaw in retaliation, nails digging into the skin of his back, hoping to leave a mark.
“I knew you’d miss me.” He grunted into the base of my throat, the hands which held my waist dipping beneath the hem of my shirt to explore further. “Even when you’re angry you’ll wait. ‘Cause no one else can touch like me.”
A whine bypassed my lips almost involuntarily as he continued to rut against me, I wanted to be angry- no, in fact, I was angry. But all emotion other than want was blurring at the edges of my mind now, being pushed further and further back by each eager kiss he peppered along my jaw.
“You really–” I jerked in surprise, cutting myself off with a short gasp when his hand slipped past the hem of my trousers, fingers pressing against the damp fabric he found there. 
“What was that?” He provoked, and I could hear the smirk in his voice as he trailed over my covered clit, causing me to whimper before I was biting down on my lower lip. Matty didn’t like that much. “Come on, I wanna hear you.” He muttered, pressing a little harder, wanting a reaction. “Tell me.”
“You’re such a bastard.” I panted, head falling against his shoulder as my hips pushed further into his touch, seeking more.
Matty laughed, all breathy and lovely, mouth catching on the lobe of my ear before he hissed, “Yeah, but you like that about me.”
His hand was gone with that and I was almost tempted to ask, to even plead with him for its return, aching all the more now, enough that all I could think about was riding his fingers until I couldn’t think at all. 
But then Matty was grabbing my waist again, his grip hard, firm, and I swallowed when he whispered into my ear once more.
“Jump.”
Without thinking, I jumped. 
We collided, his mouth on mine and the two of us moving as though it was second nature. And in a way, it was. But it shouldn’t have been. I knew that. I tried to remind myself of it. 
He shouldn’t be here.
But he was. Walking his way through my flat with ease, effortlessly missing each sharp corner and the miniscule step which led back into the hallway. He was blind, my hands in his hair as he manoeuvred us into my bedroom, throwing me down onto sheets that he’d never seen, let alone slept in. 
I tugged him down with me, his hands moving to unbutton those fucking jeans he always wore as he worked his way back into my mouth. 
He hovered over me after kicking them off, my head pressed to the pillows as his eyes roamed every inch of my face. “Beautiful.” He whispered, as though he hadn’t really meant to say the word aloud.
My breath hitched anyway but Matty paid it no mind, leaning in closer to kiss me again, slower this time around, though his hands were still quick, tugging at the hem of my top enough so that I got the hint. I lifted myself up, breaking away to take it off and toss it to the side. 
Matty kissed his way down my neck again, following the trail of scars down my torso until his fingers paused to hook around the top of my trousers. I nodded at his silent ask, planting my feet a little firmer on the mattress so that they could follow my tee.
Matty stopped then, kneeling between my parted thighs, eyes caught on the panties I was wearing, and I could swear something in his gaze shifted as he stared down at me. 
“Lace?” He murmured, fingers curling around my thighs tight enough to bruise as he pushed forward, closer to my face. “Really?”
It was a loaded question. Almost felt like an accusation.
I shrugged– I hadn’t meant to end up here, but it hadn’t been subconscious when I’d picked them out of the pile this morning. He liked the way they looked, had told me so one night spent at his when he’d talked me into smoking a couple joints with him sprawled out on his living room floor. 
I opened my mouth to reply but Matty didn’t quite catch the motion, already busying himself with the task of pulling the lace down my thighs. His fingers, calloused from years of playing guitar, dragged alongside the black material rolling down my legs. I tensed at the feeling, zeroing in on the slow motion, then listened to him groan at the sight before they were gone completely.
I watched him pull away, balling the damp fabric up in a fist before leaning over the side of the bed to drop them on top of his jeans. 
“A souvenir?” I couldn’t help but question, mostly out of mirth, but humour helped deflect from the weight I felt at having him here.
Matty hummed, fingers already back on me, trailing the length of my right leg before he was stretching his way back up again, head stopping between my parted thighs and nosing at a crease sat at the very top. He didn’t answer me though, instead choosing to shut me up with another gasp by dragging his thumb across my folds.
“Matty.”
“Hm?” He hummed again, having sat back on his heels to watch me squirm as he continued on. I shot him a rather annoyed glare.
“Take off your shirt and fuck me.” 
His brows rose languidly when he flicked his eyes back up to meet mine, then tilted his head. “But I’m having so much fun.”
With a swift kick to his side, Matty’s hand fell away and he shook his head around the beginnings of a smile. “Always so demanding.” He tutted and before I could spit something back– probably about him being the biggest hypocrite I knew– he was placing his hands either side of my head and leaning forward so that his lips were right beside my ear, his breath fanning the shell of it. “You gonna beg for it?”
My breathing grew heavy as I watched him pull away, dragging a finger up the inside of my thigh before stilling ever so briefly and venturing on, up over my hip and then my ribs. He pressed a slow kiss to my chest, eyes flicking up to find mine as his tongue swirled over the skin, there and then gone.
“Come on–”
He huffed a quiet laugh, the force of it lighting goosebumps over my exposed flesh. “Come on, baby. Beg.”
I rolled my eyes, reaching up to grab at his neck but he was already dancing out of my reach. He jutted his chin. 
“Matty.” I huffed.
“Yeah?”
I really wanted to throttle him, “Fuck me. I’m not asking.”
The corner of his mouth tugged itself up into a small smirk, “Good enough.”
A disbelieving chuckle escaped me, one which was quickly cut short by his wandering hands finding purchase on my hips once more, before he dragged me down the length of the bed, his mouth finding purchase on the swell of my breast.
He pressed fast kisses along the curve of it until his tongue flicked out over the nipple, causing me to gasp. My hands flew out to tangle themselves in his hair when he lapped it into his mouth to suck and I groaned at the weight of his hands cradling the curve of my back. 
“Matty.”
He hummed and the sound sent vibrations rippling out across my skin, I fisted my hands into his curls harder.
Shifting until my hips found his whilst he lavished at my chest, I pressed up into him, both annoyed by the fact he was still clad in his boxers and pleased by the very visible wet patch I could see. I ground against him and the sensation elicited moans from the pair of us, his hands flying down to hold my hips steady.
“Patience.” He murmured, but I was having none of it, lifting a leg against his arse to spur him closer. Matty’s head jerked up at the surprise before he looked down at me and stared. “You’ll be the death of me.”
“You better hope not.” I replied, hands finding the hem of his shirt and dragging it off before he could fight me on it. “I’ll make it painful.”
“Counting on it.” Matty murmured back, hair now a mess, either from the clutch I’d had on it moments before or from the way I’d all but yanked his top over his head. “On all fours,” He said roughly, tapping my outer thigh twice. My already flushed skin heated further at the understanding of how he wanted to take me but– contrary to popular belief– I didn’t argue and rolled onto my stomach.
Palms to the sheets, I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, eyes trained on the headboard. I grinned to myself when I heard Matty groan at the sight, looking back over my shoulder only briefly to see him palming himself through his boxers.
“Don’t have all day, Healy.” I prompted after a moment passed, just before the mattress shifted beneath his weight. I heard something drop to the floor a second later before he was right up behind me.
I jolted a tad at his sudden touch, then was forced to focus on the way his hands slid over my hips with that same familiarity they’d always done, moving up to the swell of my arse to squeeze it before dropping back down to spread my legs further apart.
A moment passed and I was forced to wait in the silence he then gifted me, waiting and waiting until I finally went to say something. It was then that I felt a finger glide down my spine, dragging ever so slowly over my jumping muscles. 
“Hands,” Matty then reminded and I was forced to blink away the haze I had drifted into, reaching up to grab onto the headboard just as I felt him swipe his dick between my thighs, guiding himself up over my folds, pushing past them so he rested at my entrance. 
I let go of a rush of air, splaying my hands further against the headboard before he slammed into me without any warning at all, all the way up to the hilt whilst I cried out at the sudden fullness. “Fuck.” I hissed, head falling between my shoulders as I winced. 
I breathed through the bit of pain that came with the thrust, acknowledging that Matty didn’t move an inch and instead keeping still, hands holding my hips even as he leaned over to whisper, “You good?”
His voice was surprisingly soft in the quietness that encased the flat, reminding me of other times we’d spent here, both like this and in other odd moments. It made my chest ache.
I took another moment to adjust to him before I nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
He hummed in turn but didn’t question it, just waited, thumbs circling the skin on my hips for a moment in a manner so gentle and yet so very Matty, before finally, he moved. 
His thrusts were shallow and slow at first, his thumbs keeping the same steady tempo as they continued to soothe the tops of my hips. I moaned at the feel of him, before I managed to roll my hips back to meet his own, enjoying the sound that escaped him.
“So good.” He said, hand sliding further up my side and towards my ribs before I was titling my head back and Matty was holding a fistful of my hair. He just held it for a bit, forearm pressed against the skin of my back before his thrusts began to grow harder, tugging more and more.
The room was quickly filled with the sounds of our groans along with the bedframe rocking against the wall and I praised all the Gods above for the fact that there were currently no neighbours residing in the flat beyond it, before I was quickly swept up once more in the thick scent of sweat and sex. Matty fucking into me with a desperation I’d never quite experienced from him before.
I panted beneath him, nails digging into the wood of my headboard whilst he picked up the pace.
I couldn’t quite focus on anything but him. His breathy whispers, his fingertips which dotted my skin, the feel of him rocking in and out of me. It was almost as though nothing else existed but this moment, even if I knew it would soon end. His thrusts getting sloppier, his grip tightening, his murmured praises increasing by a tenfold. 
“Come on, baby.”
I liked when he called me that.
Made me feel special. 
But that thought soon soured. Because, was I really? 
How could I be anything special when my whole life I’d been nothing but a doormat for people to walk all over? I couldn’t help but think that Matty would be the same, like he’d gotten too close and finally seen what everybody else already had.
“Squeaks, baby. What do you need?”
I whimpered at his ask, tears collecting in the corners of my eyes. “I–”
What the fuck did I need? It wasn’t meant to feel so loaded, that question. But it felt as though the walls were now closing in. Because was this it? Was this the end?
“I–” I tried, feeling Matty’s fingers slip from the ends of my hair before a gentle palm laid itself flat on the small of my back.
“So good for me.” I heard him say and I moaned at the slight praise, breathing harder as he continued to mumble mostly to himself, “So pretty. So good.”
I was almost there, back arching under his palm as the other moved away from the right grasp it held on my hip, fingers finally finding my clit, knowing exactly what I needed.
“Yes.” I panted as the combination of his hard thrusts and steady hand sent my head into a dizzying pool of water, “God, yes. I–”
I think I screamed as I came, his fingers working deftly whilst mine clung to the headboard, body trembling as I fought to keep myself up. But Matty was there, holding me long enough so that he could reach his high and pull out with a loud grunt, coating my inner thighs. 
We stayed there for, I don’t know how long, until he finally released me, falling away whilst I slumped forward onto the pillows before us. He followed a second later, still catching his breath as he stared up at the ceiling. I watched him, eyes hidden behind my forearm and a sprawl of hair that had fallen over my face, content to soak in what I could of him. What I had left.
Then Matty shifted beside me, I half expected him to get up and leave with some half-arsed excuse on the tip of his tongue, but he paused when he caught my heavy gaze. I let my eyes trail over the side of face, on the tired circles settled beneath his lash line and the slope of his nose.
He looked back towards the ceiling.
“You got your souvenir, remember?” I found myself saying, stupidly, voice just above a croaked murmur, “Don’t let me keep you.”
Quiet. And then, “Do you want me to?”
I knew what he meant, but still I asked, “Want what?”
Matty’s head slowly turned towards me, eyes guarded and peering over at my devastated form. I wondered what he made of me right then, if he thought anything at all. 
When he offered me no words, I refused to add anything either and felt what was left of my heart crumple up into a pitiful bundle when he pushed himself to the edge of a bed with a barely there sigh.
The air in my lungs caught as I watched and waited, eyes trailing after him as he rounded the bed frame to pick up his discarded boxers. I let them slip closed again, not wanting to watch him leave. 
I listened to his feet pad across the hardwood floors and out of the room. My chest ached with every step but I didn’t dare stop him, burying my face further into my pillow. 
I laid in wait for the front door to open, for there to be a clue to his evident departure, but then the footsteps returned. I didn’t dare give myself false hope, knowing he must have forgotten something to have come back. But the padding continued, closer and closer until they were back by the bed and I held my breath as it creaked, my eyes stinging just as I felt a warm damp cloth press against my inner thighs, wiping me clean.
I choked on the sob that wanted to escape me and the cloth paused for a split second before venturing on. I waited, wondering why he was doing this, why he was dragging it out.
Just leave already.
But then the cloth was pulling away again, and the bed was creaking again, and the tears, they wouldn’t stop. 
Stay. 
Please just stay.
I gasped into the pillowcase, stomach tensing with the strength to keep quiet. To let him leave quietly. 
I wouldn’t cry.
And then there was quiet, at least for a moment or two, before the bed dipped once more and there was a hand in my hair, combing the strands from out of my face and tucking them behind my ear.
When I opened my eyes, he was still there. Dressed and ready to go, but still sitting there beside me. Whilst I laid bare, curled up into a ball to better protect myself from his knowing gaze.
Suddenly everything hurt. Suddenly I felt exhausted and was falling apart at the seams.
Matty moved carefully, stretching toward the foot of the bed before returning with the sheet to cover me up, laying it gently over my trembling shoulders. He leaned in to press a slow kiss to my forehead and then went to move away again.
My hand caught his wrist.
And then I was flat out sobbing. Hysterical even. Crying into the pillow almost soundlessly as I gasped to try and catch my breath. Because I wanted him to stay. I needed him to stay.
Not just for me. But for Teddy. And for the life he brought into my dreary flat. To the kindness he never failed to gift me.
I needed him to stay.
I needed him.
I opened my mouth to ask, to let him know. But I could hardly even bear to look at him, blurred as he was through my onslaught of tears, Matty still held the key to all but destroying what little I had left.
His hand returned to my hair, fingers tangling themselves in it, a sudden contrast to the rough grip they’d held there earlier. And then he settled further onto the bed, back pressed against the headboard whilst he continued to run his fingers through my hair.
The tears still flowed but the sobs came less and less, until I was blinking at his shadowed figure in the dark, holding out hope that somehow he’d just know and he’d stay. 
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sungbeam · 1 year
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nonidol!lee hyunjae x fem!reader
your best friend hyunjae ain't no romeo, but you're still in love... so let's hope he doesn't find out you wrote a whole play about him!
▷ genre, warnings. bffs2l, fluff, angst, comedy/humor, swearing, college au, pining, hyunyn r kinda franchise movie buffs, shirtless hyunjae......, slow burn-ish lol, if ur a theater kid i am so sorry, stress and academic pressures, mentions of a bitter ex-friendship and ex-relationship, sabotaging and low-key terrorizing by an ex-friend, kissing, insecurity, lots of jargon i looked up and hope i'm using correctly, massive leaps in time and multiple chapters that span one day 💀, denial is a river in egypt so ig hyunjae's in egypt
▷ total wc. 30.9k (i actually overshot this one r we surprised 0_0)
this is the fourth installment of the love in unity series! this can be read as a standalone, but there will be references to other fics, and all prev and future yns will be referred to as __!yn !! i do recommend reading at least one of the prior storylines ;')
a/n: mmmmmmmmmm idk what to say but have fun bye!!! AND REBLOG FOR GOD'S SAKE REBLOG PLEASE—
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EPISODE ONE (PILOT): ONE ON ONE
“HAVE you always wanted to be a playwright?”
The question caught you off guard as you glanced up from your tablet screen, the white blue-light contrasting sharply against the warm amber radiating from the small, battery-operated lamp seated on the plastic folding table. There were a couple of technical issues going on behind the curtain at the moment, so the transition to the next person auditioning would be delayed by a couple minutes. In retrospect, it was nothing, but when you were already a couple weeks late behind schedule, a couple of minutes was everything.
A young and bright second-year student sat to your right in the middle rows of the university performing arts center nosebleeds. She was peppy and eager and passionate—all the things that you sometimes saw yourself as when you were her age. Her name was Bae Sumin, and she wasn’t here to audition, nor was she here for you. She was actually here to interview a few of the dancers for the winter showcase in representation of the university’s premier newspaper called The Daily. She had asked if she could sit in for a few of the auditions and observe, maybe ask a few questions; who were you to refuse an eagle-eyed undergrad who reminded you so much of yourself?
“Oh, well,” you began, eyes flitting to the velvet curtain where you saw a man in a dark baseball cap—Lee Jihoon—give you a swift thumbs up, “kind of. Playwriting was my first love, but it eventually turned into screenwriting over time.”
“So why choose playwriting for your capstone instead of screenwriting?” Sumin followed up, as you and her attention turned to the spotlit stage where your next auditioner walked out onto.
You knew the answer to that; you really did. But the audition was beginning, and though he was introducing himself to you, you couldn’t quite get your head in the game. Why did you choose to write a play over directing a film? You quickly murmured an answer to the second-year beside you as the student onstage had gotten so nervous he dropped his copy of the script on the floor. “I guess, when it counts, you always go back to your first love.”
— ✶
It was times like these where you really valued a good, strong cup of coffee.
“—I’m gonna stop you right there.” The poor kid—you really did feel bad for cutting people off sometimes, but you swore it was wholly necessary—froze like a deer in headlights. You stood up from your chair and began making your way down the aisle and into one of the rows that were closer to the stage. “Michael, is it?”
Michael, the student on stage who had been auditioning to play the role of a Napa Valley wine salesman, bobbed his head in affirmation.
You dipped your head. “Okay, Michael. Let me ask you: what is your motivation for this scene as a wine salesman? Because, if I’m being honest, dude, I’ve counted like… four different ways you’re playing this character.” In this singular scene alone. Your head was spinning from stress, and his mannerisms felt right for the role, but his acting itself just wasn’t hitting the mark. (If that even made sense, but your initial thought when he first walked onto stage gave you the aura of a business major.)
“Um,” he stammered, scratching the back of his head, “my motivation is to… sell wine?”
“Sell wine, and? What else?” Please pick up on the lines. Please tell me you read the other lines of this character.
He rifled through his packet of stapled script papers, clammy fingers flipping through and his eyes racing over lines. He probably printed out multiple sheets to audition for multiple parts in case this one fell through. “Oh! I, uhm, I’m supposed to eventually lock Alex and Kai in the wine cellar.”
“Because…” You prompted.
“Because… my boss is the… second cousin of the bride’s uncle?” He quickly added on, and you could see the cogs in his brain turning like rent was due (your rent—your rent was due—oh shit), “Wait! Wait! And Uncle Lee overheard the ex-boyfriend plotting to get Alex alone, so he asked me to hide Alex, and I do it because I want to get promoted.”
You punched the admittedly sky-high ceiling of the performance art hall. “Bingo. Now give me desperate, ass-kissing wine salesman, Michael.”
Michael did indeed give you a desperate, ass-kissing wine salesman. He did so, very well, in fact, that you declared that you were done for the day. Because you definitely were. If you saw any more people and heard the same lines of script over and over for any longer, you were going to commit murder. At least, not without filling your stomach first. When Michael was done and scurrying off stage, you caught one of the sophomores working with Jihoon—you thought her name was SW!Yn—and asked if she could have the house lights turned on.
You trudged back up to your original seat up in the nosebleeds and found that Sumin had disappeared off somewhere. However, she left a baby pink-colored sticky note on the table for you to read: I realized that I have an actual job to do, but watching you work was so cool. Thank you for letting me sit in! x, Sumin. She’d scrawled her phone number below the message line in case you were up for a proper session to let her pick your brain, and you felt yourself smile as you tucked the note into the back of your phone case for later.
“Yn-ie!”
You settled into your seat, an eyebrow cocked in blatant amusement as you watched your best friend, Lee Hyunjae, leap down from the stage and bound up the aisle to where you were. “Where’ve you been for the past two hours?” You mused as you began packing your things away into your backpack at your feet. Hyunjae had come in with you early this morning at seven, and for the three out of five hours you’d been conducting callbacks and auditions, he had been seated beside you to keep you (relatively) sane and to give you his opinion.
He, of course, had not been allowed to sit in for Kim Younghoon’s audition, because that was favoritism. Hyunjae tried to convince you by saying he would be even more judgmental of Younghoon, but you had effectively booted him out of the auditorium. After that, he disappeared to god knew where, and Sumin replaced him.
“I’ve been around,” he said to you casually. Instead of coming into the aisle were you were, he went up one more row. “I’ll tell you about it at lunch. Hungry?”
You patted your stomach, leaning back in your chair and stretching your limbs over your head like a cat. “Yes, sir. I can go for a buffet and a half right about now.”
“Oh, a buffet and a half?” He chuckled. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms over your upper half and rested his chin on top of your head. Your heart skipped about a dozen beats then; his embrace was always very warm. “So that must mean you're resuming this train in the afternoon, too.”
“Glad to know you pay attention.”
“Hey!” He squawked indignantly, no doubt jutting his bottom lip out in a Younghoon-esque pout. “I do pay attention to you.”
You made a face that he couldn’t see, but he could feel you pat his hands. “Sure, buddy, sure.”
Cleaning up didn’t take too long, as you reassured (more so reminded) Jihoon that you would be back at around 3 o’clock sharp. If he or Chan weren’t in to turn on lights and the like, you were certain you could hold your own. You and Hyunjae agreed on heading over to one of the closer restaurants on the Ave, only a few minutes’ walk from the performing arts hall. It was a cozy sort of cafe that served really good wonton noodle soup for both winter and summer days (Hyunjae always teased you for drinking hot soup on hot days, but it was something you had done since you were a kid).
Once the two of you had settled in a booth tucked away into the corner of the establishment, you were both swift to relay your orders to the waiter. Saying you were starving would be an understatement.
“You know, there are just some people who I can’t understand how they’ve made it so far in the program,” Hyunjae said to you as you squeezed a wedge of lemon juice into his glass of water. “Thank you,” he beamed boyishly, accepting the lemony beverage to sip. “—I mean, I’m sure they got in somehow, and like—I have no right to judge, but at this point, shouldn’t you understand the basic principles of design?”
You gave a meager bob of your head, taking your own glass to repeat your actions with a new lemon wedge. “They should if they’re all graduating in one quarter, too.”
“They’re all doing capstones,” he confirmed.
You offered him an amused smile. “Well at least you know that you’re doing okay, then.”
Hyunjae sighed, leaning back against his booth seat. His gaze flickered out the window for a second, then his lip curled upward as he returned his attention to you. “I guess so. Oh!”
He straightened and leaned forward again, bracing his forearms onto the table so he inclined himself toward you. “I was gonna tell you all about my backstage adventure!”
You chuckled. “Do tell, Jae.”
“Well, we begin our adventure with collecting dance kids like Pokemon—”
You sputtered around your straw, nearly snorting water from your nose and you swiftly slapped a hand over your mouth. Hyunjae’s eyes lit up as he laughed, but he was reaching over to hand you a napkin from the dispenser on the table. “I did not expect you to say that,” you managed to croak through your miserable laughter.
Hyunjae wagged his eyebrows at you. “What can I say? I am hilarious.”
“One out of a dozen times.”
“One out of one.”
“One out of ten.”
Hyunjae simply smiled. He could do this all day. “One out of one.”
But so could you. “One out of ten.”
He leaned closer. “One out of one.”
Not one to be beaten out by your best friend, you inched closer with a slightly narrowed gaze. “One. Out. Of. Ten—”
“Order of wonton noodle soup and an order of dan dan mian?” Both you and Hyunjae shot apart, heat crawling up to your cheeks, and you wondered if it was obvious to the bored-looking waiter setting your food down on the table. You passed a glance across the table at Hyunjae, but as always, he seemed practically unfazed. In fact, he was grinning like a madman.
You sighed, rolling your eyes. When the waiter disappeared and left you and Hyunjae to your own, strange devices, Hyunjae took a pair of plastic chopsticks from the collection on the table, wiping the pair down, then handing them to you. You thanked him as you accepted the utensils from him and wiped down a soup spoon for yourself.
As the two of you began digging into your separate dishes—with Hyunjae dipping a spoon into your soup and with you reaching over to pluck a couple pieces of minced pork from his bowl—it seemed that a silent truce about the matter prior had come to settle.
Hyunjae suddenly cleared his throat, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t using his chopsticks. “So as I was saying earlier—I found Juyeonie somewhere—I can’t remember. And then we found Sunwoo. The poor kid was just wandering around like a lost sheep; he was looking for Changmin, so we all went searching for him. And then Younghoon caught up with us—how’d his callback go, by the way?”
You swallowed the bite you had in your mouth before answering. “He did great, as usual. But you’re not allowed to know more than that.”
He sent you a playfully unsatisfied deadpan. “Hmph.”
“Hmph, back at ya,” you teased. You arranged a perfect spoonful of noodles, soup and wonton, carefully blowing on the surface. “So where did you guys end up finding Changmin?”
"In a closet."
You lurched, furiously holding back your snort as you closed your mouth around your bite. Bad. Idea.
Hyunjae didn't bother hiding his giggles as he watched you struggle to chew and swallow your bite of food. "You okay over there?"
With a glare that needed no extended interpretation, you wrestled the food down your throat. "I hate you."
"Hehe, whatever you say," he sang. "He was technically in a dressing room, but same thing. He was miserable, dude. Looked so perturbed."
You scoffed. "Perturbed? What is this? The Fast and the Furious?"
"Hey! Leave my man Vin Diesel alone!"
You cocked a brow at him as you slurped noodles into your mouth. "No." And then you added, "There is literally no reason for there to be so many Fast and Furious movies."
He huffed at you. "You know, that's exactly what people say about all franchises. What would you say if somebody came after Star Wars or Marvel like that, hm?"
"I'd murder them, and you'd help me hide the bodies."
A beat passed. "Touché."
Your lip curled in mild satisfaction. "Okay, so why's the squirrel feeling so down in the dumps? Something about that ex of his?"
Hyunjae motioned vaguely with his free hand. "Ex dance partner. Apparently, it was this whole thing that happened in high school, but I didn't get all the details."
"Ah," you replied. "I'm sure a good cup of coffee can get him to perk up just fine."
"Agreed." Hyunjae's eyes went skyward as a thought occurred to him. You couldn't help but admire the definition in his jawline as he did so. "There was something weird that happened."
"Oh?"
He quirked his mouth to the side and a crease formed in his forehead. "Yeah… we were talking about your play, right? And I was agreeing with Changmin that the whole thing was my favorite because you wrote it—"
Oh. You nodded your head indulgently, expression set in a way that seemed like you were incredibly invested in what he was saying. In reality though, your insides were flaring and you could feel the sweat dripping down the back of your neck.
"—and they just looked at each other? Like that thing you and I do when we know exactly what the other person is thinking, but I didn't get it." Hyunjae wrinkled his nose, reaching for his water. "Wondered what that was about."
You averted your eyes to your bowl of soup, trying to get ahold of yourself. "Yeah," you laughed, and you hoped it didn't sound as nervous as you thought it did, "I have no idea what that's about."
He simply shrugged then. "It's probably just something stupid," Hyunjae mused, then chuckled. "Just my friends for you. Silly geese."
You cleared your throat. "Yeah…silly geese, for sure."
And you were going to have a talk with those silly geese.
EPISODE TWO: LET'S ROCK 'N' ROLL
THIS was not your first rodeo, and it certainly would not be your last. It was approximately two weeks later, the Saturday at the caboose of Spring Break, that you found yourself standing in one of the first few rows of nosebleeds with your hair pulled up and out of your face and a packet copy of your script in hand. The entire acting cast sat in a sort of half circle mass on the stage with their own copies of the script. Today was Script Read-Through Day—as well as an intermittent fitting day.
Thanks to the efforts of your fellow workaholic, drama nerd classmate Kim Hongjoong, a handful of costumes for the entire play had been completed over the length of Spring Break. You'd asked your cast to find time over finals week and Spring Break to get a quick fitting done by Hongjoong and his team, and luckily, all of that had gone smoothly.
Now, it was your turn to lean in.
"Let's get down to business, everyone!" You said with a clap of your hands to capture everyone's attention. Your eyes roamed over the faces of the people who were selected and your heart thundered in excitement. This—this was just one part of the rush you lived for. You didn't bother to suppress your grin. "Thanks for being on time and making it back here; I know I cut your break short, but we're on a very tight schedule. Can we start with going around and introducing ourselves with name, year, major, and role?"
The circlet of introductions began at Cha Eunwoo, the young man in your year who you selected for the role of Kai, the main male lead. Younghoon was cast as Ryan, Kai's best friend, and the guy who was marrying Choi Miyeon's character Lily. Minatozaki Sana was playing Alex, opposite Eunwoo. You had been surprised Younghoon hadn't auditioned specifically for the role of Kai, but you were content that he'd gone for Ryan instead—a simple chemistry reading with the four main leads the week prior had confirmed to you that you'd made all the right choices.
The main cast also included Jung Eunbi, Jung Yerin, Choi San, and Dong Sicheng, another close friend of yours. All in all, you had been incredibly lucky with the ending line up of cast members, and the supporting cast, too.
The read-through carried along smoothly—well, mostly.
“—why, of course, dear Prim! It mainly trickles down to a few… specific details—Yn,” said San as he abruptly broke out of character. Everyone’s heads shot up from their scripts, including yours, as you watched San’s hand air-gesture to an invisible beard on his face. “I’m getting one of those weird old man beards, right?”
There was a murmur of chuckles throughout the group, and you gave him a small smile. “Of course, you are. I asked Hongjoong for the perverted-looking ones, specifically.”
He grinned, nodding. “Nice!” He thought about it, “Wait…”
Younghoon coughed up a laugh. “Shall we continue?”
You inclined your head in affirmation. “Thanks, Hoon. Yes, let’s get back to it. We were at Uncle Lee’s line about ‘specific details’.”
San had been selected to play the character of Uncle Lee, the role quite literally taken from the original Shakespeare play yours was based upon: Much Ado About Nothing. Your thesis play, the biggest project you would ever conduct in your undergraduate years, was called Jasmine. The storyline centered around ex-somethings, Alex and Kai, who were Maid of Honor and Best Man to their best friends Lily and Ryan, respectively. Because of Alex and Kai’s troublesome past, they acted like they hated each other, and Lily schemed to make them finally see eye to eye—as a wedding gift to herself, of course. She also convinced a party of characters to get in on the plan with her. It had all been very fun for you to write, and you imagined that the actors up on this stage now would make it all the better when they brought it to life.
With the read-through completed, you began splitting up groups to begin chemistry exploration readings. While you ushered Sicheng, Eunwoo, Sana, and a couple of the key supporting cast members onto stage, everyone else hopped down and scattered into the nosebleeds so they could get to know their fellow cast members more intimately.
You stood in the second row of the audience in the smack middle, one arm crossed over your stomach and the other propping your script up for yourself. Younghoon settled on one of the seats next to you, a small smile appearing onto his face as he folded his leg over the other. "Why hello Miss Director."
You hummed good-naturedly. "Why hello Mister Groom. Not up to saying hello to your fellow cast members yet?" Usually he was good about introducing himself to everyone; he was quite the charmer.
"I told the lovebirds I would pay attention to their chemistry reading for pointers," he grinned, eyes sparkling beneath the dim lights. "Kai's nervous about it."
"Ah," you voiced, glancing back to the stage where Eunwoo and Sana began interacting with Sicheng and the others on stage. "Awful nice of you, Ryan. Where's your darling bride?"
He gave you a show of wistful glance as he turned his eyes toward the ceiling and propped his cheek against his fist. "My beloved? Well, she is working her magic for the wedding. I told her—" he leaned forward onto his knees then, gesturing with his hands, "—I told her, darling! This is your special day. Anything you want is what I want. You should have seen the smile on her face—a daisy in bloom, Miss Ln.”
An amused expression fixed upon your face, you tipped your imaginary hat to him. “I think you should go find your bride, sir, before her plans get out of hand.”
“Her plans could never get out of hand,” he dismissed with the flick of his wrist.
“So you’re a Yes Man now?” You replied, your brain racking for the one part in the script you had written with this exact dialogue.
You saw the recognition flicker in Younghoon’s eyes. “That’s what love does to you, my friend. It’s not the same as those tally marks you always draw in that notebook,” he replied swiftly, gesturing to your script like it was the notebook that Kai was supposed to keep. “Say, you’ve never told me what those were for.”
Pleased, you arched an eyebrow. “That’s not the line, Hoon.”
You saw the moment he snapped out of character. He smiled, the kind of Younghoon trademark everyone could recognize and become spellbound by. “I don’t have the entire script memorized yet, Yn-ie.”
“I bet you have at least half of it memorized.”
He opened his mouth to remark something when someone hollered, “Oy” from the stage. Both you and Younghoon turned your attention to Eunwoo, who had captured both of your attention. He threw his arms open wide with a teasing grin. “Ryan, you’re supposed to be watching my back, man!”
Sana shot him a scowl. “Hey, if you get a second in this duel, then I get one, too. Lily!”
“As much fun as dueling you and winning would be, Alex, I’m not stuck in ye old days—”
“Your savior has arrived!” Everyone’s heads whirled in the direction of the doors at the back of the auditorium. There was a good handful of people who began filing in through the doors, with a very familiar blond at the helm of all the madness. Reminiscent of that one fiery Elmo meme, your best friend had his arms raised with an ear-splitting grin on his face.
Kevin Moon, one of the people amongst the masses, rolled his eyes as he passed Hyunjae to enter the auditorium. “They’re rehearsing, man.”
Choi Chanhee was swift to follow his friend. “Yeah, Hyunjae,” he teased with a grin.
You fixed your friend with a confused look. “Uhm… Hyunjae, what’s happening?”
Hyunjae jogged down to where you were, leaving his army of… people? behind. “You said you needed volunteers to help you prepare set pieces, right? Well, I told you I’d recruit some people and—” He made a wide, sweeping gesture toward the large group of people now simply crowded at the back of the room, awaiting instructions. Kevin and Chanhee sent you boyish smiles as they waved in greeting. “—I did!”
The lightbulb went off in your head. You couldn’t believe you forgot. “Oh, my god. You actually listened.”
Hyunjae wrinkled his nose. “Hurtful.”
Younghoon laid his head against his arms over the back of his seat with a teasing gleam in his eyes. “Aw, how romantic.”
Hyunjae pointed to his lanky actor friend. “Is he in character?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Your head shot over to Younghoon just as his eyes met yours. The man shrugged with feigned innocence, standing up to greet Chanhee and Kevin as the other two began slowly leading the army of volunteers down to where you all were setting up. You wondered how on Earth that man’s partner could stand his impish antics.
Hyunjae slipped into the row with you with a wince. “Aish, I can never figure out when he’s in proper character or not.”
“He is,” you blurted. You knew for a fact that Younghoon hadn’t been in character, but Hyunjae didn’t need to know that. Ignorance was bliss, after all. “But that’s besides the point—Jaehyun—”
He flashed you a smile, bringing his hands up to make a jazz hands gesture. “Uh oh, that’s my name-name. I either did really well or screwed up big time.”
You laughed, pressing your free hand to your forehead. “You did really well—”
“Yes!” He cheered while punching the sky. He laughed, bumbling over to you with arms open wide to embrace you. You simply could not escape him. “You’re welcome.”
You lightly punched his chest. “I never said thank you. But thank you. I appreciate it a lot.”
He let you go, lightly patting your head. A warm wave of energy made your nerves feel fuzzy at their synapses. “You don’t have to thank me for doing this for you. By the way, YH!Yn is on her way over; she’s just coming back from her internship.”
Younghoon suddenly, out of nowhere, appeared in the row again. “I heard YH!Yn’s name,” he chirped with a smile that looked like a heart. He waved his phone screen around, as if you could actually read what was on his screen, “Yeah, she said she’s on her way now.”
You nearly melted. “Oh, really? She doesn’t have to if she’s uncomfortable, Hoon. I know big crowds make her anxious—”
“Ah, it’s all good,” he said. “She’s happy to do it, really. It’s not that big of a crowd here, and you’re her friend, Yn. She wants to help out.”
“Speaking of more friends helping out—” cut in Kevin with Chanhee in tow (where did all of them pop up from, goodness), “—Cobie just texted that he, Sangyeon, Juyeon, and JC!Yn are all on their way, too. What’s the plan for all the set pieces then, Yn?”
All eyes went to you, and you felt your heart swell with love, pride—quite literally every happy emotion there was. This whole project had plagued your every waking and unconscious thought for months now. The pressure for this production to be good… there were too many people watching you now. But as you led your friends and your supposed army of volunteers to the backstage area, you felt like there was no way you could fail.
Right?
— ✶
You were cleaning up for the night. Your throat ached and exhaustion wore at your bones from the very extensive day you and everyone else had. Almost the entire cast and volunteer and tech crew members had cleared out by now—your friends had all decided to get dinner together, and you would all head over once you had finished with your business here.
You hiked the strap of your bag over your shoulder with a haggard sigh as you passed beneath the ghost light hanging backstage that signaled that Jihoon was practically done for the night. You caught a glimpse of the man hustling down the corridor and you called out to him.
“Hey, Jihoon-ah! I was hoping I could catch you on your way out.”
Jihoon glanced up from his phone, his slight smile illuminated in the pale blue-light of his phone screen. “Ah, hey, Yn-ie. Good first rehearsal today?”
You fell into step with him as you both maneuvered the dark backstage corridors together. “Yeah, actually. I’m very proud of everyone’s progress so far. I was so stressed about being a couple weeks behind, but… I’m lucky I have such a good group of people here.”
He hummed, nodding. “Definitely. That one—your Hyunjae—”
Your heart stumbled. “Hyunjae? What about him?”
“It’s nothing, but I thought I should mention that I heard a couple girls gossiping earlier—”
You nearly stopped in your tracks, and you felt something crawl beneath your skin. “What’d they say?”
Jihoon glanced over at you, maybe a bit surprised at how sharp your tone was, but he continued on smoothly, “You know that I don’t like involving myself in that petty drama, right? But they were volunteering with the set pieces and stuff, and they were talking shit about him. The usual, like, cocky, arrogant bullshit. Something about wondering how you put up with him all the time.”
You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. “Jesus,” you swore. “Who were they? I’ll deal with them—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said to you, firmly but not unkindly. The two of you had stopped in the middle of the corridor now, your voices hushed yet harsh still. “Hey, Yn—I took care of it. I don’t tolerate that shit in my theater, you hear? You have a lot on your plate, so I didn’t want you to worry, but I wanted to make sure you knew.”
Breathe, Yn. Your eyes shuddered for a moment. Hyunjae wasn’t always as well-mannered around other people as he was around you and his friends. He was like that for good reason—there were some things in one’s past that shaped who you would become, and unfortunately, that was one thing that you hadn’t been able to protect him from back then. So hearing something like this? You felt awful.
You finally gave Jihoon a nod. “Right, yeah… thanks Jihoon. Really.”
He nodded back. “Of course. Does that happen often?”
You rubbed the place between your eyes where an ache had formed. “No—I mean, he’s just got a front he puts on, but it’s not often. Maybe those girls just witnessed him on one of his bad days. He—” You shook your head.
“I get it; no need to explain it to me,” Jihoon murmured. He gently guided you toward the door out into the main auditorium where Hyunjae said he’d be waiting for you. “He’s a good kid.”
“I know. He’s great.” I love him.
When the two of you emerged into the darkened auditorium, the only light present was the one from Hyunjae’s phone. Your best friend glanced up from his screen, pocketing it away as he stood up to meet you. “Hey, everything okay?”
You and Jihoon exchanged glances. You met Hyunjae’s eyes, your smile small. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”
EPISODE THREE: WE’RE ALL JUST TRYING TO KEEP THE STAGE LIGHTS ON
IT was Monday evening when you determined that you had reached the point in time where everything would only escalate from here. There was something about seeing the backstage crowded with techies that made everything seem ten times more real. Your day had begun an hour or two earlier than the actors’ as you came in to meet Jihoon and Bang Chan about set pieces and creative direction. When your actors had come in, rehearsal commenced by working through the first act of the script and creating a deeper understanding of motivations and purpose.
On Saturday, along with the chemistry explorations, there was also a moment where you had to sit everyone down and give them a better understanding of what this project even came from. (There was a real inspiration to the story, but there was no way you could expose yourself like that, especially in front of Hyunjae.) There had been yet another run through of the script, with some of your actors switching up the way they played their parts just slightly. That same experimentation would continue today.
You were in the box with Chan and a couple of his underclassmen peers as the few of you were discussing the matter of spotlights and the like. It was early in the rehearsal process, but it definitely killed to be early.
You heard a slight commotion as the doors at the back of the auditorium opened.
“You got it covered in here?” You asked Chan, already one foot out of the tech box.
Chan flashed you a dimpled smile and a thumb’s up, and you were on your way out and toward the sounds of newcomers. You could already make out the figures of your friends Park Jihyo and Wen Junhui from where you were running up to them.
“YN!” Jihyo squealed as she rushed to come bury you in a hug.
“Oh my god, thanks for coming, you guys,” you gushed, crushing yourself to her.
Jun scurried over, wrapping his limbs around the two of you, as well. The two of them had quite literally insisted on coming to this rehearsal as your sanity check, which you deeply appreciated. Well that, and the fact that Jihyo was helping you manage the finances for this project, as well as any sponsors who came through to support the play. You had never been good with that stuff, but luckily, your econ-business-major friend was. (Jun was always there for moral support; him being versed in acting also helped, too, with directing when you couldn’t.)
The three of you immediately got to work, and you were finally able to return to your own actors as the lot of you worked through the first couple of scenes of act one.
“What do you suggest we talk about?” Eunwoo asked from stage left where he and Younghoon lingered with their scripts in hand. They were standing opposite the stage from Miyeon and Sana, who were supposed to walk onto the stage from the right like walking into a restaurant. The main focus of the scene was supposed to be Miyeon and Sana, but because Younghoon and Eunwoo were still onstage, they had to act like they were actually doing something even if their microphones wouldn’t be activated.
Younghoon gave a shrug and an easygoing smile. “What do you think Kai and Ryan talk about?”
“Kai feels like the kind of pompous jerk who speaks only in Ralph Waldo Emerson and Sylvia Plath.”
“That could be an interesting dynamic,” Jun chimed in.
You lifted a shoulder in agreement. “I say ‘yes’. Let’s just see what this looks like—Eunwoo, play that; Younghoon, play the exact opposite.”
Younghoon sputtered a laugh, but he saluted, understanding your directions (somehow… it was probably because you had worked with him for a long time over the course of both of your academic careers). “Aye-aye.”
You made a waving motion toward stage right where Miyeon and Sana were poking their heads out from behind the curtains. “Ready? Action.”
It turned out that the overly smart version of Kai was not what the scene needed. After a couple of new directions to Eunwoo about this little thing, you eventually settled on a nice in-between that reminded you awfully of a certain someone…
Lo and behold, you heard the doors at the back of the auditorium open up once more. You didn’t turn your attention away from the scene playing out before you, but you had an inkling of who had entered the sphere of the dramatic.
It wasn’t until the brunch scene had finished, you pursed your lips, nodding. “I like that.”
“I like it, too,” Jihyo said, paired with a nod from Jun.
You flipped through your script, asking for the actors taking part in the next scene—the bar scene—to come to the stage. “Uhm, let’s see… I need all of the main cast, barring Kai and Alex, to the stage. I also need Bartender 1 to come out, as well.” You waved your hand around toward the middle of the stage. “Make a little cult circle or something—yes, Younghoon, you have to stand next to Miyeon, silly goose.”
It was now that you finally turned around to confirm your prediction of who had joined the crowd. Just a few rows up from where you and your friends were sat three eager faces. Presently, it was Hyunjae, Eric, and his girlfriend, the former of which greeted you by raising up what looked like an iced caramel macchiato. God bless.
You hustled up to where they were, making grabby hands at the frost drink. “Thank you,” you sighed, accepting the drink and straw from him.
“Aye! Hyunjae!” Younghoon hollered from the stage. “Where’s my drink?”
Hyunjae cupped his hands around his mouth. “The kid has it!”
“I’m not a kid,” Eric sulked as he attempted to cross his arms over his chest while also not spilling the iced americano he was in possession of.
“That’s right!” EC!Yn mused, then added, “You’re my baby.”
Hyunjae wrinkled his nose at the lovey-dovey young lovers. “Oh, now that was awful, EC!Yn,” he groaned. He nudged your elbow from where you stood next to his seat. “Wasn’t that gross?”
Your brain was filled with caramel and caffeine. “Leave them be, Jae. At least they have someone to be gross with.”
Hyunjae mocked a face of offense, and Eric and his girlfriend slipped past you two in youthful giggles to go deliver Younghoon’s drink to him down at the bottom stage. When the two of you were left alone, Hyunjae pressed his cheek against his fist as he peered up at you. “How’s today been so far?”
You finished your sip, swallowing down the sugary, caffeinated goodness. “It’s been alright so far. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Well,” he sighed, “I knew you were probably going hours without water, so I thought I’d at least bring you something pleasant.”
You sat down on the floor beside his aisle seat, silently offering him a sip of the drink he had treated you to. “You know me too well. And what do you mean? You did bring me something pleasant.”
Hyunjae took a ginger sip of the drink then pushed the cup back toward you. He grinned, flipping a lock of imaginary hair behind his shoulder. “Ah, you mean me—”
“I meant the kids,” you teased as you smiled around your straw with a look that was hardly innocent.
He deadpanned at you. “Never letting my head stay in the clouds ever, huh, Miss Ln?”
“Someone has to keep you humble.”
A soft laugh fell from his lips as he shook his head, then pressed his lips to his knuckles. “Well I guess if it's gotta be anybody, it should be you. Then again, that Chanhee keeps me on my toes, too."
"Weren't you the one who said he had no ass first?"
He let out a snort. "I only speak the truth."
"That you do," you agreed.
Hyunjae flicked his phone screen on for a second to catch the time and grunted. "Ugh, I have to go meet with my group members for a project in Public Infrastructure."
Your lips curled downward. "It's literally the first day of the quarter—you have a project already?"
He huffed sharply out of his mouth, sending one of his longer bits of bangs flying upward. "That's what I'm saying. Professor is insane this quarter, especially for putting me in this group. He said he picked our groups for us because we 'don't always get to choose in the real world'." He made a face. "Somebody has hurt that man, and we are paying for it. Pretty sure the people in my group don't even like me."
Your chest ached at that, and you leaned your chin onto his arm rest while he settled his head against the back of his chair. "I'm sorry, Jae. I know group projects are hard with strangers, but maybe they'll be cool with you? Are you just a little anxious maybe?"
"Dunno," he mumbled, picking at a stray thread on the red seat. He raked a hand through his hair, shifting. "I'm just dreading it, I guess. I just have that feeling y'know?"
"Yeah, I get that." You bumped your hand against his, mustering up an encouraging smile. "You're gonna be okay, Jae. I believe in you."
Hyunjae collected himself enough to smile back. "I can always count on you, Yn."
"Of course," you said, as easy as breathing air. You exhaled, "What are best friends for?"
— ✶
You found yourself seated in the darkness of the auditorium seats, the ghost light of the stage your only company. The ghost light was a single bulb that hung from mid stage in order to prevent any mishaps or accidents from happening when one had to stumble about in the darkness of the theater. It was a single part of theater superstition, as well as a sign that Jihoon and Chan had gone on their way for the night, leaving you to lock up. You'd been given charge of empty theaters before, and frankly, the peace and quiet was something you needed.
The time was nearing nine o'clock though, and your stomach growled at the thought of going back to your warm townhouse shelter for some pity ramen.
You finally shut the lid of your laptop, slipping it into your bag so you could stretch your aching limbs. You popped a couple joints as you did, then reached for your drained cup of iced caramel macchiato.
The rest of rehearsal had gone reasonably well. You were making progress, and that was the important part. Eric and his girlfriend had left a little before Hyunjae had in order to go get dinner together. Hyunjae had understandably been reluctant to leave, but he basically convinced you to let him call you while he made his way over to his project meet up location. You were directing as he did, but he didn't seem to mind and listened quietly with the occasional humorous comment.
You hoped he was doing okay.
Just as you slung your bag over your shoulder, typing out a fast text to Hyunjae to ask about how it went, your ears picked up the faint sound of creaking wood.
You froze, your head whipping around the very empty theater for the sound.
You heard it again—it was the slow, haunting creeeak, like someone was taking a deliberately drawn-out step. The hand around your phone tightened as you turned your gaze to the stage. The ghost light hung eerily in the now-quiet hall, its amber light creating a circle of light beneath it like a beacon for creatures of the night.
Creeeak… creeeak…
"Jihoon?" You called out. "Chan? Is that you?"
The creaking stopped; a shiver crawled down your spine.
"Is someone there?"
When you were met with silence, you pressed a hand to your forehead, speed-walking up the aisle of the theater and out into the lobby. Swiftly locking all the doors behind you as you made your exit, you figured you were probably just hearing things.
As you deposited your empty cup into the trash bin just outside the theater doors, you received a reply from Hyunjae. The performance hall door thunked closed after you twisted the lock mechanism into place.
With no more than a glance at the dark windows, you turned on your heel and made a beeline for the bus stop.
EPISODE FOUR: IT'S ALWAYS THE DARK AND STORMY NIGHTS
FRIDAY night brought an onslaught of the sky's wrath in the form of a storm. Rehearsal had progressed decently, and while you did appreciate how hard everyone was working, you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t rush the process if you wanted a phenomenal end product. You just needed to have faith in the people you were working with.
Nearly everyone had gone home by now, barring yourself, Jihoon, Chan, and a couple of undergrads they were keeping around to show them the ropes. You were in the backstage area packing up your things to head out for the night. You could hear the voices of your peers echoing slightly through the bowels of the theater, but none of them were too near to your location.
The hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stood up as you reached for a page of script cues that one of the techies had left behind on a stool.
You straightened, your eyes scanning the backstage area. All the lights were on tonight since Jihoon and Chan were still here. The ghost light was not your only companion tonight, and yet…
There had been a feeling creeping up on you this past week… something unsettling like you were being watched. Perhaps it wasn’t you specifically being watched—it was more so that you were never truly alone when you knew no one else was here with you. There was something bothering you about the shadows of the theater lately, and they had almost never been anything but comforting.
You had to visibly suppress your soul from jumping out of your skin when you heard that goddamn wooden creaking sound.
“Yn-ie?”
Your heart did about five cartwheels and a barrel leap as you whirled around to find Chan coming in from the other side of the curtain. He noticed your jumpiness and concern fell over his features. “Hey, you good?”
You usually weren’t so much of a scaredy cat, dear god. You let out a laugh, though it sounded more nervous than you liked. “Yeah—no, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little antsy, is all.” Yeah, that’s it. You slung the strap of your bag over your shoulder and walked over to Chan to bump fists with him in greeting. “You and the others wrapping up?”
Chan’s eyes swept over you and his mouth quirked into an expression that told you he didn’t believe your “I’m fine” bit at all. But he was never one to pry where he believed to be crossing a line. “Not really, actually,” he sighed, cupping the back of his neck above the headset hanging there, as the two of you moved back into the main auditorium together. “We just realized that some of the speakers have been left on for the past week. They seem to keep coming on even though we turn them off; just outdated tech, I guess. But we’re trying to see if we can fix them before considering getting new ones.”
The hammering in your heart subsided for a moment as your brows pinched together and your brain switched into work-mode. “Really? Okay, well, let me know if I can do anything to help—that is weird.”
You eventually said goodnight to everyone left in the performing arts hall as you let yourself out through the front doors. The rain seemed to have subsided from earlier, and the night was left with dark cumulus clouds looming above your head, and rain-soaked streets that smelled heavily of metal and petrichor. A cold, biting wind swept past your face and nipped at your extremities as you pulled your jacket around you tighter.
The walk to the bus stop wasn’t an awfully long one, but…
You stopped.
You swore you just heard a clattering sound from just behind you. Your attention went to a collection of trash cans sitting only a few meters behind you. When no animal revealed itself to be the source of the noise, you clutched your small canister of mace into your fist.
A tingling sensation crawled down your spine, and you turned on your heel to start walking faster toward the bus stop.
There weren’t many street lights posted in this area of campus, but if you could just get—
“YN!”
You nearly screamed when someone grabbed you by the shoulder, and you lifted the can of mace up in between you and the person.
“Shit, Yn. It’s just me!” Hyunjae slapped his palm over yours and shoved the nozzle of the mace can down and out of his vision. He wrestled your body to a stop, anchoring you to reality. “Holy shit, honey. Shhh, calm down. It’s just me.”
You furiously inhaled and exhaled, your chest rising and falling as you pressed a hand to your sternum. “Lee Hyunjae, what is wrong with you?” You growled. Had it been him this whole time?
Hyunjae dared a cheeky smile. “Well, I just saw you from down the street and I thought you saw me, but you kept walking. I guessed you were just in your head tonight, so I thought it’d be fun to surprise you.”
“You don’t grab a girl in the middle of a darkened, abandoned street and yell in her ear to surprise her.” Your eyes were hard as you reprimanded him; he was your best friend, yes, but you nearly had a heart attack right then. Your nerves were so on-edge that you just couldn’t joke with him at this moment.
He winced then. “Ah, when you put it like that…” He pressed his lips together, eyes taking in your tense form. There was something else in your face other than annoyance at his stupidity—something that troubled him. His voice grew soft, his touch even softer, as his hand cupped the back of your shoulder in a warm hold. “Hey, everything okay? I’m really sorry for doing that; it was stupid of me.”
You huffed a sigh and avoided his eyes. “This isn’t the first time I thought someone was watching me,” you confessed lowly, so not even the wind could hear you.
Hyunjae’s eyes widened when you said that, and he was swift to wrap an arm around your shoulders and gather you against him. His gaze surveyed your surroundings and the shadows seemed to dance in his view; his breath hitched. “Let’s get you home,” he murmured then, “I’m parked nearby.”
EPISODE FIVE: THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM
THE next day, Jihyo, Jun, Jacob, and Kevin were seated deep into the nosebleeds within the dim areas of the theater. Straight ahead, you and Hyunjae stood in the first few rows of seats as the actors were doing a run-through of the first act of the play. Hyunjae simply sat in the seat next to you, but you were doing your director thing. It wasn’t out of the ordinary at all to see you two so close, but something had shifted overnight from the last time all of them had seen you and he interact.
“Remind me again why you guys are here so early?” Jihyo’s question was directed toward Jacob and Kevin as she sipped on her morning cup of coffee. Everyone in the row was armed with their own cup of caffeinated brew, too; that was simply what being awake at nine on a Saturday morning called for.
Kevin peered at the other two from around Jacob. “His girlfriend and Chanhee are grocery shopping.”
Jun snorted. “Are they roommates? Why’s Chanhee grocery shopping with JC!Yn? Sounds a bit random.”
“They’re with her roommate and Changmin, too,” Jacob replied with a joking roll of his eyes. “Kevin’s just petty that they’ve never thought to extend the invitation to us.”
“Hey! You always hint at wanting to join them, too. It’s not just me, good sir.”
“I asked once, and when she said no, I never asked again—”
“—he’d only say that because he’s been scorned by love,” Younghoon lamented from the stage, his arm braced along the back of Miyeon’s folding chair. Props were still being finalized between a couple options, but Jun had found a bunch of folding chairs in a closet that you could use for the bar scene. Everyone’s attention moved away from invitation-less friends to friends playing pretend. He made a dramatic gesture, clutching his heart, then straightening with a laugh as he teased his friend who wasn’t in the scene. “I still think it’s stupid that he and Alex never worked out.”
Eunbi’s eyebrows flew up to her hairline as her hand, holding a water bottle that would later be replaced with a drink glass, froze in mid-air. “I’m sorry? This is news to me. Since when did Kai and Alex even have a chance at ‘working out’?”
Miyeon let out a delighted gasp. “Oh, where to begin?”
Yerin piped in with a lazier gesture with her water bottle. “They weren’t always sworn enemies, y'know. Once upon a time, the ‘lovebirds’ were actually lovebirds,” she chuckled at her own joke—or, her character’s joke.
Younghoon explained, "Their parents pretty much pitted them against each other since the end of middle school. They used to be friends, actually, and they were top of their class in practically everything. Except…"
"Academic League?" Eunbi guessed with her brows twisted. "I remember hearing about something like that."
"Yeah, I mean," Miyeon added, "something happened in junior year and it's been like that since."
"What happened in junior year?—"
Jihyo watched the performance with narrowed eyes, her body leaned forward onto her knees. "This sounds awfully familiar."
The three boys turned their heads her way. "What do you mean?"
She shook her head, eyes fluttering. She made a face and cocked her head to the side in thought. "Okay, maybe it's not exactly like what I'm… Jun, you remember when Yn told us about—you know?"
"That she almost confessed to Hyunjae? Ow! I'm sorry!" Jun yelped as Jihyo slapped his shoulder, hard.
Jacob and Kevin exchanged wide-eyed glances. "She almost confessed to Hyunjae? When?"
Jihyo sent Jun another hard glare, to which he sheepishly raised his hands in surrender, before replying, "Yn said offhandedly once that in junior year of high school, she was almost going to confess her feelings to Hyunjae, but then suddenly decided not to."
Kevin leaned his chin onto his fist. "Huh…"
"I don't know how I didn't even notice this before when I read through the script," Jihyo thought aloud. "Alex and Kai are Yn and Hyunjae—just…with a different ending."
All four heads turned to face forward once more, except, their attention zeroed in on you and Hyunjae. YH!Yn had appeared beside you, most likely updating you on the progress of the massive prop project she was working on for the play. You listened to her report intently as Hyunjae sat next to you, his head leaned onto your shoulder as he played some game on his phone. It was far too soft, far too—there was no way you based this all off of your own experience with Hyunjae, right?
In fact, it was possible.
As YH!Yn let you know that she would have to buy a few more PVC pipes from the hardware store, you assured her that she would be reimbursed for those expenses.
“—I know how busy you are—”
YH!Yn smiled sweetly as she cut you off, “Oh, no worries at all! I’m happy to help, as Hoon said before. Plus, this is a lot more fun than my internship; feels like a little creative project I get to nerd out on.”
You grinned at that sentiment. “Ah, I totally get that. Well, I won’t keep you from it any longer. Thanks again.”
YH!Yn gave a brief goodbye, then stood up to head back out to the backstage area where she was putting together the portable fountain she was building (you had given her a list of possible “show-stopping” prop ideas you had and she had picked the fountain). As she left, you watched as she passed by the bottom stage to catch Younghoon’s hand. Something like yearning ached in your chest. One day…
The mass weighing on your opposite shoulder stirred as he let out a noise of surprise. “Huh?”
You glanced over at him as best you could, then flashed Younghoon a thumb’s up to signal him that you were paying attention now. “Huh what?”
Hyunjae sat up straight, his nose scrunched, eyes pinned to his phone screen. “Didn’t you have a friend named Ellie in like, high school?”
Your lips curled into a slight frown at the name; it definitely rang a bell. “I did, what about her?” You asked. The sounds of the dialogue happening on stage faded to glorified background noise as you leaned over to peer at Hyunjae’s phone screen. There, he had a new text thread pulled up with an unknown number introducing herself as Ellie, a “classmate of his from high school”. Not only were you frowning, but your forehead creased, too. It had been ages since you had last been in contact with her. The two of you had been the best of friends before you drifted apart.
To be honest, you had no idea how the two of you drifted apart so easily when you’d been so close to her, but you ended up getting closer to Hyunjae anyway. You chalked it up to differences in interests, but maybe now you could get some answers. Well, that was depending on why she was texting Hyunjae.
“She texted me,” he said, holding the screen between you two. “Recognize the number?”
You could barely remember your own number. Shaking your head, you lifted your gaze back up to the stage where your actors had already moved through most of the scene. “Nope. Might be a new one since it’s been so long. Wonder how she got your phone number.”
Hyunjae blew out a puff of air as he laughed—you saw him begin to type out a response from the corner of your eye. “How do people not get my number at this point,” he grumbled under his breath.
— ✶
It wasn’t until you were seated in the booth of Junhui’s favorite Chinese restaurant on the Ave that he and Jihyo ambushed you with The Question™.
“So when were you going to tell us that the play was about you and Hyunjae?”
Your movements paused, then resumed so you could properly settle into your seat. "At least let me order first."
To their credit, your friends withheld from further questioning until the waiter had come by to take the table's order. When she had gone and was out of earshot, Jihyo pounced, whipping her head over to you and placing a hand on the table between you. You realized suddenly that you were trapped between her and the wall.
"Spill."
Your eyes widened a smidge, intimidated. "How did you guys figure it out? I mean, it's not that obvious, is it?"
Jun shook his head. "Nah, not really. Ji was just on five shots of espresso this morning apparently."
Jihyo sent him a pointed look. "I was not on five shots of espresso…" She murmured, "It was two."
"Okay, five shots, two shots—" Jihyo flapped her hands around as she angled her body toward you. "It was the bar scene and they were all talking about Alex and Kai. And I thought that the bit about junior year sounded really familiar."
"I can't believe you didn't confess to him back then," Jun feigned a disproving shake of his head while clicking his tongue.
You leaned your face against the palm of your hand with an unpretty fwump. "Guys, the play is basically centered around the idea: what if I had confessed to Hyunjae and it went wrong?"
"Just ten times more dramatic," Jun pointed out.
"And," Jihyo added, "their roles are switched. Kai's the one who confesses to Alex in the play, and it's Alex's ex who makes a grand showing at the wedding festivities to cause trouble. Yn doesn't have an ex."
"Uncalled for," you grunted.
Jihyo gave a charmingly beautiful smile that could make all the world fall at her feet. "You love me."
"You're lucky you're cute."
Jun sipped on his water. "I'm right here."
You and Jihyo bursted into giggles, the sound like twinkling bells. Jun sighed softly, but you saw the corners of his lips lift up into a small smile. For a moment, you had forgotten what the topic of this conversation was.
You sobered slightly, your hands reaching for your water glass to take a gulp, then nurse it between your palms. "Have you ever heard the saying that we always try to recreate our first heartbreak in order to rewrite how it ends?"
Jihyo and Jun quieted. They peered at you with eyes that could peer straight into your soul if you let them. That was why you couldn't exactly meet their eyes as you tried to articulate your thoughts behind writing this whole mess. "I mean," you pursed your lips, "it wasn't a heartbreak; it was never a heartbreak. My heart hadn't been broken because how could it be broken if I never even let it. You know?"
"That's not how a lot of hearts are broken, Yn," Jun murmured with a sincere depth to his dark brown eyes. There was something so soulful about them. "Most are broken in silence."
You huffed slightly. "That was a great line."
"I know—"
"Ahem," Jihyo said, reigning the both of you drama geeks back into the realm of real talk. She leaned over to wrap her arms around you, her head resting on top of your own. "So you wrote this… to conquer your fears? To comprehend your feelings?"
"To imagine, to wish, to dream," you added. It was quite sad, really. You couldn't quite think of writing anything else when the time had come to start drafting your thesis. "We write what we know best."
"I thought Hyunjae was basically there throughout this whole process," Jun said, his elbows resting on top of the table as he gestured vaguely. "How has he not figured out that Alex is him?"
You gave a shrug. You couldn't imagine how he hadn't yet figured it out, but it wasn't exactly the most obvious thing. You would soon rather go missing than Hyunjae ever figuring out the truth behind the play's inspiration. Whenever he asked you, it was always "I was so inspired by Kenneth Branuagh and Emma Thompson's rendition of the play" and "I wanted to spice up an old, timeless play and give it a kick of Today". He believed that you were writing a play based solely upon the themes of childhood manipulation, academic pressure, and miscommunication. And you were—just not only those things.
Your thesis would have never been accepted if you'd only presented a skeleton of a play about your nonexistent love life. All of the additions and embellishments to the story had come easy as you pieced together the plotline. But the two main characters had never changed.
With that now settled, the food arrived at your table. (What a brilliantly timed, cosmic coincidence!) You and your friends thought it best to move onto other topics of conversation. Somehow, you had reached the topic of your recent week of weird feelings. Not just about Hyunjae, but about the strange feeling of constantly not being alone. You'd even explained the entire debacle from last night, with Hyunjae scaring you then rushing you home.
Jihyo and Jun both replied appropriately: "Girl, what the fuck?"
You brushed it off with a nonchalance that was not convincing. (Then again, you were never an actress yourself.)
The rest of dinner progressed relatively smoothly, and when the check had come and gone, you wanted to offer a mint to your friends.
"—shit," you swore as you dug around in your bag. When your hand came up empty-handed, you brushed that same hand through your hair. "I left my Altoids in the theater."
Jihyo finished signing her bill, tucking her card away. "Oh? Well, let's go get them."
Jun bobbed his head as he shouldered his coat on. "Yeah, it's no problem, Yn-ie."
"Really? You guys don't have to; they're just min—"
"Nonsense!" Jihyo chirped. She stood up and out of the booth, giving you the space to slip out after her. She then linked your arm with hers, then hooked her other with Jun's. "Power in numbers, my love."
You could do nothing but agree—wholeheartedly. The way your heart rate slowed when she insisted that she and Jun would accompany you showed just how grateful you were. You probably wouldn't have even gone to retrieve them tonight, but waited until Monday instead. They were just mints, after all, but you were appreciative nonetheless. Even for a small item, they would be by your side.
The journey back to the theater was a brief one as Jun drove the three of you back to the performing arts center and pulled into the space right by the stairs up to the hall. You recalled leaving them on one of the dressing room tables in the back corridors, so you used your student ID to buzz into the back hallway of the performing arts building.
You and your friends' voices hushed as you all crept into the dark, abandoned building. When the door closed behind you all, you turned your phone flashlight on to guide your way toward the dressing rooms.
"It should be in one of these rooms," you told your friends as you entered the hallway of doors. You located a familiar number and pushed into the room, swiftly retrieving the teal-colored metal box of minty sweets on the vanity table.
The door closed softly when you slipped out.
"Hey, how's YH!Yn's fountain project coming along?" Jun asked as the three of you began to make your way back toward the back door.
"Oh yeah!" Jihyo perked up. "How's that going? She's so badass for that."
"Isn't she?" You gushed. "Do you guys wanna see her progress?"
There was an obvious answer to that, and the three of you made a hard one hundred eighty degree turn, swerving back down the corridor from which you had just come from. Your conspiratorial giggles echoed within the rafters and bowels of the theater, as if you were pixies from A Midsummer Night's Dream, frolicking through the forest in which they dwelled.
When you reached the vicinity of the backstage area, your footsteps faltered.
It was still dark.
You frowned, slowly stepping into the backstage area.
"Yn? What's wrong?"
Jun said it before you could, "Huh. The ghost light's not on."
Indeed, the bulb that was supposed to be on when no light was, was pitch black. A cool breeze drifted down your spine, making the hairs on the back of your neck and your arms stand up.
"Could Jihoon or Chan have forgotten on their way out?"
"You know Jihoon's not one to forget."
You drifted away from your friends as you slowly stepped into the backstage area. Your flashlight shone toward the walls first as you aimed to make your way toward the lights panel. It would be an easy fix—
Your heart dropped clean into the pit of your stomach.
The light of your flashlight illuminated the absolute chaos.
Setting and backdrop pieces that had been painted by volunteers, articles of clothing collected for people's costumes, scripts left behind torn out of their staples—all of it was flung about and scattered over the backstage floor. It was like a tornado had swept through the area, and you knew your friends were seeing what you were seeing now.
You held your breath for so long you were pretty sure you were imagining the hands shaking you.
Somebody had come in and took their rage out on your play. But who, and more importantly, why?
EPISODE SIX: PHANTOM OF THE PERFORMING ARTS HALL
"WHAT'S up with the ghost light anyway?"
There was a group of you gathered by the stage of the performing arts hall, the house lights having been turned on after you'd made a call to Jihoon and campus security. Along with Jihoon and campus security, however, Hyunjae, Juyeon, Eric, and Younghoon had also appeared. You had shot Hyunjae a text about what had happened and he'd rushed over with his friends—you felt awful about pulling them away from whatever they were doing, but Hyunjae didn't say anything about it.
You sat on the edge of the stage next to Jihyo with Jun and Hyunjae standing by you both on the floor of the auditorium. Well, Hyunjae stood in front of you and you leaned your chin on top of his beanie-covered head while the lot of you waited for whatever security pulled up from the limited amount of cameras. Jihoon had disappeared somewhere to make a call—you would hear from him, too, soon.
The question had been posed by Juyeon, who sat next to Eric and Younghoon in the first row of nosebleeds.
Jun dragged a hand down the side of his face, then rubbed his mouth. "Ah, it's uhm, old theater superstition," he replied. "Usually, backstage crew leaves the ghost light on so anybody coming in doesn't trip on anything or accidentally get hurt or, y'know—break anything."
"It couldn't have just gone out because of the power then?" Hyunjae asked.
Younghoon shook his head. "Usually it runs on the same electricity that every other light runs on. I've never been in a theater where the ghost light just randomly goes out, and there weren't any power outages today either."
"The problem isn't even about the ghost light," you said. Everyone's eyes flickered over to you and Hyunjae. Hyunjae patted one of the legs you had on either side of his upper body as a means of consolation or comfort. "It's about the props and costumes. We're just lucky that they were just scattered and not properly damaged. We would've been set back another week at least."
Eric perked up. "Maybe it's the ghost of Shakespeare haunting the hall!"
A snort fell from your lips as you mused, "Shakespeare in the park?"
Hyunjae cleared his throat as he prepared his best rendition of the Iron Man line: "Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?"
As the two of you shared a giggle and fistbump, the other remaining members of your party sent you strange, confused looks.
Younghoon gave an eye roll. "Oh dear god, you two really are meant for each other."
You caught Jun and Jihyo whip their heads toward you, but before anything else could be said, Jihoon was hustling back into the auditorium from the lobby doors in the back. He brushed the hair out of his eyes as he jogged over to where all of you were gathered, those signature bags under his eyes prominently featured. Oh, you definitely felt terrible.
"What'd they say, Jihoon?" Jihyo asked first.
Jihoon tucked his hands into his pockets as he joined the loose cult circle. "Security found that the locks on the front of the hall were picked open, so they wouldn't have gotten a record of somebody's card being used. Cams picked up someone dressed in black, but they knew where the camera would have gotten a clear shot of them. But because there wasn't anything officially damaged, there isn't much legal action we can take."
Juyeon offered quietly, "Breaking and entering."
Jihoon gestured to him. "Right. Breaking and entering, but that's about it." He pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes. "It wasn't just a prank or whatever. At least, I don't think so. What do you think, Yn?"
You swallowed, straightening slightly. "I don't think so either. I mean, I don't think any drunk pranksters would go through the trouble of picking open a lock. Even a sober one."
"Maybe a spiteful classmate," Jun suggested with a meager shrug. "Some people are ruthless."
"If there isn't much we can do, or much security is willing to do," you muttered, "then we should call it a night. We just have to take pains to lock everything up every rehearsal now."
Jihoon nodded sharply. "Right. Pains, but necessary ones."
"I'm sorry this happened to you," Eric frowned. A murmur of agreement echoed from everyone else in the group.
You pursed your lips. "It's okay, I—it's not okay, obviously, but I'm glad no one's hard work was properly destroyed. That's all that matters." Even if your nerves were a little shaken. Who could have done this?
The remainder of your time spent in the theater was picking everything up and putting them in their rightful places. By the time the group of you had finished locking everything up, the night had slipped away into its proper depths. Everyone was ready to get the hell out of here and go home to their beds, and Jihoon was certain to show you the ghost light being turned and sustaining for at least a couple minutes before the two of you were the last out.
Juyeon, Eric, Younghoon, and Jihoon said their goodnights and goodbyes, already departing their separate ways to go home. You lifted your head up to find where Jihyo and Jun were waiting for you when you saw Hyunjae standing closer to the entryway of the hall. He gave you a sleepy smile, opening up his arms for you to walk right into.
"Tired?" He chuckled, the sound creating a soft vibration in his chest as you shoved your face into his pretty-smelling sweater.
"Mm," you grunted. "You didn't go home with Younghoon?"
"Nah. I wanna go home with you."
In any other context, in any other situation, that would have meant something completely different. You swallowed, wrapping your arms around his frame. With a nod, you screwed your eyes shut and swept away those wistful thoughts. "Okay, fine."
You didn't know why you kept doing this to yourself. But he was your best friend, and tonight was… a lot. A friendly sleepover was something you needed—at least, that was what you were telling yourself.
— ✶
Being the oh-so courteous guest he was (especially since he practically invited himself over), Hyunjae let you take the shower first. You shared a townhouse a bus ride away from the university campus with two others whom you knew from rooming with them your first year of college. You had lucked out with the random roommate assignments that year, and the three of you weren't the closest nor best of friends, but you found great housemates in each other, which was just as valuable.
You had your own room and ensuite up on the topmost floor, so you and Hyunjae had a bit of privacy and wouldn't bother your friends below. You had finished with your shower a bit ago, so you were settled on your bed, flipping through emails and ensuring no important ones had ended up in the spam folder.
When you heard the door open from the bathroom, you glanced up, but returned your gaze back to this one email about a sponsorship that needed to be added to the playbill later.
"I accidentally grabbed the wrong shirt."
You hummed in question as you quickly forwarded the email to Jihyo, then looked up. A laugh sputtered out of your mouth as you took in Hyunjae taking up the space of your doorway. He was in a pair of his own sweatpants that he often left here, but instead of one of his t-shirts, he must have accidentally grabbed one of your tops. It was a Hello Kitty one you'd found in the back of your closet awhile ago, and fit you pretty nicely, so it looked strained on Hyunjae.
You flopped onto the bed, rolling around in your own laughter. "Jae!—your tits don't fit in that, honey."
Hyunjae's mouth stretched into a grin, his tongue darting out for a second. His dirty blond hair, damp and curly, hung slightly in his eyes over his forehead. "Oh, shut up."
To your detriment (you deserved this, you really did), he then smiled (more like, smirked) as he casually lifted the top over his head.
Your eyes widened just as your entire body lit up on fire. "Hey, woah there! Dude!" You jokingly covered your eyes—your whole face—with your hands as he flicked the shirt off, straightened it out, then stalked over to your closet to swap tops.
Hyunjae rolled his eyes as he ripped another shirt from a hanger and came to take a seat on the edge of the bed. "You've seen me shirtless before, Yn. Calm down."
No. How could you just calm down—? It was nearly impossible when you saw the way the muscles in his back rippled as he yanked the new, white T-shirt over his head. With muted sadness, you watched as the toned muscle on his stomach disappeared beneath the fabric.
Damn.
"You're drooling."
Your eyes darted up to where he was grinning down at his phone screen now, only looking at you from his periphery where you were still lying on the bed.
You huffed, rising onto your knees and hoping your embarrassment wasn't plain as day. But you subtly swiped your thumb across your lower lip to make sure you weren't actually drooling. This is your best friend, Yn; control yourself. "Loser."
"Child."
"Chicken."
"Weirdo."
"Nerd!" You shot back, making him laugh as you draped yourself over his back and tucked his head under your chin. His wet, cold hair tickled your skin, but it was a welcome sensation.
You peered down at his phone with him from your perch. "Who's that?" You asked as he opened up a new text notification from a new number.
You were scanning the message the sender had texted while Hyunjae huffed. "Another of your suitors, milady," he drawled sarcastically.
The message said something like "would she be interested?", the "she" referring to you.
Hyunjae typed out: In you? Probably not.
You let out a gasp, hitting him playfully on the (muscle of his) shoulder. "Hyunjae!"
He snickered, exiting out of the text chain, then deleting the number. "What? I'm just being honest. I feel like every dude who's interested in you goes through me to ask and it's so lame."
You absentmindedly watched as he opened up Instagram and started brainlessly doom-scrolling. "Maybe it's 'cause you've so clearly friendzoned me," you muttered incoherently under your breath.
"Huh? What was that?"
"Maybe it's 'cause they see you as the gatekeeper," you amended, leaving him to climb off your bed and step into the bathroom to prepare your toothbrush for use.
You could hear the incredulity in his voice. "Gatekeeper? Pfft, no way. They're all just cowards; they don't deserve you if they can't ask you out to your face." After a second, he added, "Hey, I don't gatekeep you!"
You made a face at yourself in the mirror as you brushed your teeth. "Uh-huh."
"That's not reassuring, Yn-ie."
You poked your head out of the bathroom and made eye contact with where he had rearranged his position so he sat up against the headboard. "I was just agreeing with you," you teased, then retreated back into the bathroom to finish up your night routine.
"No, you weren't, you menace."
You flicked the lights in the bathroom and bedroom off and rolled onto the bed next to him. The two of you laid facing each other in the dark, your bodies kept to your own sides of the bed and blanket. You both were propped onto your sides, one arm tucked beneath your head.
"I don't gatekeep you," he said into the silence, his voice lowering to match the volume of darkness. He poked your cheek with a finger, as if he could stamp the declaration there.
You gave a small smile. "Okay, Jae." A thought suddenly occurred to you as you broke your stare-down to twist around and grab your phone from the nightstand to see if Jihyo and Jun had said something to the group chat. "Oh, by the way, did you ever figure out what Ellie wanted?"
Hyunjae shifted so he was on his back now, one hand still braced behind his head and the other resting on his stomach—but his eyes still watched you. "Something about a random high school project from senior year. She couldn't find the file for it and wanted to draw inspiration from it or something."
"I didn't know you had a project with her in senior year," you said offhandedly, shutting your phone off and replacing it onto the nightstand. You sighed, slipping further beneath the covers and closer to Hyunjae.
He drew you close, tucking you beneath his chin this time. "Yeah, it wasn't really important. Nothing to worry about."
"I wasn't worrying."
You could already feel yourself drifting off into dreamland, the exhaustion in your eyes making your eyelids close like valance curtains at the very front, lowering to mask the backstage magic from the audience. Except, the magic were your thoughts rocketing into the realm of the fictional. For a split second, you thought about somebody being in your position with your best friend one day. Would it hurt to think about then as much as it did now?
You couldn't exactly think about that future right now. Hyunjae, you liked to think, was far from letting anyone new into his carefully-maintained walls. He had been hurt by people before, and you'd be damned if you didn't protect him from that ever happening again.
You thought Hyunjae had fallen asleep until you felt his thumb brush against the back of your shoulder. "When have I ever friend-zoned you?"
Your heart stuttered in your chest for a moment, but it wasn't enough to wake you up completely. As you drifted off fully, you convinced yourself that you had imagined him saying that. You were both awfully tired, anyway.
EPISODE SEVEN: OH SHIT, WAS MY MIC ON?
TWO whirlwind weeks had flown by. You could hardly even soak in the moments of this last undergraduate project before it all began to blur together. The only ways you were able to properly tell time were crossing out calendar dates and—
“Oh my god, oh my god! Get it out, get it out!”
You, along with everyone present in the main auditorium of the performing arts hall, came to a screeching halt as a flurry of squeals erupted from somewhere deep backstage. You and the conductor of the pit orchestra exchanged concerned expressions before you were making a beeline for the fastest access point backstage. Younghoon and Eunwoo were swift to accompany you, and though you had a sinking feeling you knew what this was, you held your grimace for when you confirmed your suspicions.
Over the past couple of weeks, the feeling of being watched had not faded from the back of your mind. You tried to adjust rehearsal schedules so that they were a little earlier in the evening, but people had lives and you simply could not inconvenience them based on someone trying to scare you. Plus, with the spring season flying in swiftly, the sun retired a lot later, which gave you some peace of mind, at least.
But over that same time, the person meddling with your show had ceased to cease. One day it was sky blue fabric strewn all over the main stage; another day it was peacock feathers left in the projection box; there were cables missing from tech, headsets changed to radio channels. Somebody was clearly pulling out all the stops to ensure that this theater and production was full of old theater superstitions and bad luck, either to scare you or the people you were working with (or both), and frankly—it was working. To an extent.
You stormed into the back corridor of the performing arts hall, the supporting cast and tech crew all sprinkled about the hallway, anxiously watching you and your friends pass by them toward one of the larger dressing rooms.
“What is going on?” You demanded as you entered the dressing room. There was a small gathering of people gawking at something—the dressing room vanity mirror. The breath left your lungs at the sight.
The surface of the mirror was vandalized, the infamous word “Macbeth” scrawled all over its reflective plane in red lipstick. Some of the product had begun to melt from the heat of the lightbulbs around the mirror and dripped down the mirror like blood. It would have been a comical prank if this wasn’t a theater. You felt a stiff, cool breeze run across your skin.
Somebody was really trying to fuck you over, huh.
You shoved down a swallow. “Somebody get me some Windex,” you croaked. When nobody moved, you repeated yourself, forcing a bit more strength into your voice.
Chan appeared in the room, his own eyes pinned to the subject matter upon the mirror, as he handed you a bottle of Windex and an old rag.
You snatched it out of his hands with a “thank you”, then marched up to the mirror. With shaky hands, you began scrubbing away at the word written over and over on the mirror. You heard Chan corral everyone out of the dressing room and back to their original activities. All your senses had dulled by now, and you felt Younghoon gently pry the rag from your hands so he could reach the spaces that you couldn’t.
“Who is doing this?” You voiced to the now sparsely populated dressing room. You sat in one of the dressing room chairs with your hand pressed to your forehead with Younghoon, Chan, and Jihoon present. Eunwoo had gone out to calm people down, but you knew that this was going to draw a line for some people. It was a known superstition not to utter the name of the notorious Scottish Play in a theater, and it had just been named about a couple dozen times on the mirror behind you.
Your friends could offer no suggestions.
Your pride took an even bigger hit when you decided to cut the remainder of rehearsal for the day; you were certain there were at least a handful of people who were scandalized by what just happened.
“Are you okay, though?” Younghoon asked you for the third time as the two of you watched people leave the performing arts hall from the base of the nosebleeds. “I know that you’re not usually so… swayed by superstition.”
You could only give a stiff shrug. “I’m not,” you agreed, “but this is going to be the biggest project and production of my undergrad career. I don’t—I can’t take any chances.” You smoothed a hand over one half of your face. “God, I’m just tired, Hoon. I’m so stressed, and cutting rehearsal short today—we’re gonna be set back another day—”
“Hey,” he soothed, grasping you by the shoulders so you would look him in the eye. He offered a kind smile, “You’re doing great, Yn. I can’t imagine the pressure you’re under right now for this to go perfectly, but I think you have to have a little faith in all of us, including yourself. One rehearsal is not going to make a difference in the long run. We’ve got a lot of talented, hard-working people who will sleep this mishap off and come right back to make up for lost time.”
He squeezed your shoulder. “And whoever’s been doing this? They’ll get their due karma.”
You let his words soak into your brain. You needed this; you needed those words said to you. With a nod, you and Younghoon deigned to head out with everyone else. Jihoon and Chan were swift to shut the theater down for the evening, as well.
As you and Younghoon stepped out into the early evening, the sky still glowed a buttery yellow swirled in purpley-blue. There was another breeze wafting by, but instead of the chills you got before, it was slightly warmer and made you inhale deeply. The air out here made your lungs less constricted, you realized, and maybe you’d been stuck in that theater for too long lately. This would be good for you, as well as everyone else.
“I think me and some of the cast are gonna get together to go over some scenes at the grove,” said Younghoon as he peered down at his phone screen. “Wanna come with?”
You brushed a strand of hair from your face, a decision coming to surface. “Nah, I think I’m gonna take a walk. Get some fresh air.”
Younghoon passed you a brilliant-sort of smile that gleamed in the golden hour light. “Alrighty, director. Sounds good. Have a good night then, Yn-ie.”
“Yeah, you too. Thanks for today, Hoon.”
You and Younghoon parted ways there, and while he traveled down the stairs toward east campus, you traveled northward toward the quad. The quad, a place most known for the cherry blossom trees that bloomed in the early spring, was no doubt full of people taking late afternoon strolls in the temperate spring climate. It was the perfect environment for you to relax and let some of the stress and pressure fade from your pulsing temples.
There were no longer cherry blossom flowers blooming upon the dark branches, but healthy, dark green leaves. Even if they were shades of pink, they were still beautiful nonetheless.
After making a full loop around the quad lawn’s perimeter, you made a detour down one of the side pathways that were lined in trees that yawned toward its partner on the other side of the pathway. It was noticeably quieter and less populated here, and for once, you actually didn’t feel like you were being watched.
You were walking for only a few minutes in the serenity when you saw a pair of people standing in a clearing of trees just to your two o'clock. You stopped, a familiar blond haired best friend catching your eyes.
"What the fuck is your problem?" Was what you heard from Hyunjae, and you almost marched right up to them to defend him.
That was, until you saw the girl's face.
You hadn't recognized her at first because she had her back facing you and she had changed her hair. But it wasn't difficult to recognize your old friend, Ellie, the one who Hyunjae said had contacted her. Your eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. Why were they together right now? You thought Hyunjae had said weeks ago that she was just trying to get ahold of an old project they'd done together in high school.
Ellie placed her hands on her hips, her facial expression stony and unreadable. "Can you think rationally for a second and listen to me all the way through? That's what you agreed to when you said you'd meet me."
Huh?
You pressed your side against the nearest tree trunk, your heart thundering your eardrums.
When Hyunjae said nothing, Ellie continued, exhaling sharply, "Okay. As I was saying earlier, do you even know what the play's about? …No. Look at you; can't you see? You don't even know what it's really about."
"Of course, I know what it's about," Hyunjae sneered. "It's about how academic pressure and miscommunication can ruin relationships—"
Ellie laughed, the sound mirthful, and yet carried an air of malice that made your skin crawl. This wasn't the Ellie you remembered… "That's funny, oh my god! You really don't know what it's about."
"What are you going on about?"
"I think you should ask her," she said with a smile. You peered around the tree, feeling utterly stupid like one of those characters from a teen drama eavesdropping on their lover and their nemesis. "Ask her, Hyunjae. I'm sure she'll tell you what it's really about when you mention that I told you she st—"
"Yn?"
Oh, for fuck's sake. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Jihyo's voice from behind you. You quickly grabbed her and dragged her down behind the tree trunk next to you. When she sent you a look that told you she thought you were completely deranged, you pressed a finger to your lips.
She indulged you, thank god, and followed your lead as you crept around the tree trunk again.
"It's cute that you have so much trust in her," was what you heard Ellie say next.
Jihyo squinted as she tried to identify the girl. "Who the fuck…?"
You kept your eyes glued to the pair before you, but muttered to Jihyo quickly, "That's Ellie. Old friend of mine from high school, but we drifted apart. Haven't talked to her since."
"She and Hyunjae are friends?"
"No, I have no clue what's going on." Yet, your stomach twisted and churned and you felt bile crawl up the length of your throat.
A muscle feathered in Hyunjae's jaw, but he couldn't seem to get himself to say something.
Ellie looked upon him pitifully. "One day, she'll drop you, too—when she finds someone better. That's what she did to me, y'know? I don't know why she went to you, though. You are awful. I've heard all the stories."
You saw red.
This time, Jihyo had to grab a fist full of your shirt and yank you down next to her to prevent you from clawing Ellie's vocal chords clean out of her throat. Because you would have.
Anything—you would've done anything to never see the flash of shame, hurt, and anger across Hyunjae's face when she said that. It was like she'd slapped him, clean and hard. Your chest ached as you watched his hand tighten into a fist at his side.
"You don't know anything about me," he said icily.
And it was over all too soon. Ellie said something to Hyunjae, but it was too quiet to hear. When Ellie left her own way, Hyunjae stalked off in a different direction, leaving you and Jihyo where the two of you remained hunched behind the tree.
You made to get up, but Jihyo pulled you back down again. "Ji, I have to go make sure he's okay—"
"I know you do," she told you firmly while keeping you seated down next to her. "But you're not in the right headspace, and neither is he. You need to breathe, especially after today and whatever the hell that was."
When you sent her a questionable look, she explained, "I bumped into Sana on my way to the performing arts center and she told me what happened. Then Younghoon told me you went on a walk and I just tracked your phone to here."
Your jaw dropped. "You tracked my—"
"Shhh," she shushed you, pressing a finger against your lips. "That's besides the point! Are you okay, Yn? For real."
You leaned back onto your palms, a frown coming up to your lips. "Everyone keeps asking me that lately."
"It's a valid question."
That was fair, you supposed. You released a sigh. "I mean… not really? I'm just stressed, and I don't even know what to think or how to comprehend what we just witnessed." Your brain was buzzing with every one of Ellie's biting words. What had she meant by all of that? She sounded so bitter, so malicious… What had happened?
Jihyo pressed her lips together, sitting down properly onto the grass. "What was that? Did you and Ellie end on bad terms?"
Your brows creased together and you absentmindedly scratched your jaw. "No," you murmured. "Not that I remember. It was just like we drifted apart over time. At least, that's how I remember it. I dunno."
You blew out another breath of air. Ellie and you had both been really good at what you did—theater, writing, all of the works. You two were a dynamic duo; if people now claimed you were a prodigy, then Ellie was your twin. In a way, you could probably say that your characters from the play you wrote almost mimicked yours and Ellie's creative abilities and technical prowess, but just in different spheres. While the love story was based upon you and Hyunjae, the foundation had been from you and Ellie.
But it eventually faded, that friendship. You figured that was just how things worked, as unfortunate as it was. You both moved on, and you found Hyunjae.
You relayed all of this to Jihyo, your friend listening to your words intently.
"—but I've never carried any ill will toward her," you reiterated at the end of your spiel. "I truly haven't heard from her since and she hasn't reached out either. I don't know what could have caused her to tell Hyunjae all of that."
Jihyo pressed her mouth to her knuckles as a thoughtful frown graced her porcelain features. "Hm, yeah. It's curious, for sure. What were they saying before I got here?"
You gnawed on your top lip. "She kept insisting that he didn't know what the play was really about and that he should ask me."
"Huh."
"I know right." You carded a hand through your hair. "I'm screwed."
"Only if he actually works up the guts to ask," she countered. "Though, I think you should beat him to it."
You cocked your head to the side in question. "What do you mean?"
She lifted her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. "Y'know—like you have to confront him about meeting with Ellie. You can't keep this from him; I know you."
Yeah, she was right. It would eat at you if you let that guilt swirl in your stomach. Plus, all of those things Ellie had said to him… you hoped he was okay. Dear god, you hoped he was okay.
(But the question now, you supposed, was who would bring it up first?)
EPISODE EIGHT: EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT SHE'S THE BO-BO-BO-BOSS
FUNNY story: it took a week before you and Hyunjae could even have a proper conversation, in person.
With the quarter well underway, there was little to no time to stop and smell the flowers anymore. This had now become a race toward graduation, meaning that everyone was focused on their own problems. The “pranks” had dulled down, but they were, by no means, completely gone. There were always the occasional cord missing, or that dreaded creaking noise in the wings on late nights.
You’d grown used to it by this point, and so had your peers, luckily. The conversation between Ellie and Hyunjae sat in the back of your mind at all times. You always knew it was there, but you had so many things to worry about. Act two was just about wrapping up though, and so, play progress was chugging along well on schedule.
You really did have nothing to worry about—maybe it had all been jitters. Maybe it would all just finally go smoothly.
Friday night rehearsal was a little slower tonight since everyone had been here since noon. You’d all practically spent the entire day together, having lunch first, then diving into proper rehearsal. It had been a rehearsal full of laughs and a good time, and by the time Hyunjae stepped foot into the performing arts hall, you felt that you could take on anything. Even the conversation that needed to take place.
“Hey, you said you wanted to talk to me about something?” He said as the two of you stepped into the privacy of the sound booth, the tails of laughter still lingering in the air from the scene he had come into. You were currently rehearsing the directions of the first scene of act three, where Younghoon’s character was going through a full-on “groom-zilla” mode while Eunwoo’s character couldn’t stop talking about Sana’s character. It had been a full one-eighty character swap between the two friends.
You licked your lips, trying to press your smile down a little. “Oh, yeah. I was taking a walk, like, a week ago—and I saw you and Ellie talking.” You figured it would be better to just air it out right away; there was no need to beat around the bush. You lowered yourself onto the edge of one of the tables inside the booth, the air turning stuffy from the insulation inside the box. Crossing your arms loosely over your front, you watched as Hyunjae’s mood shifted, his body shuffling as he sought a comfortable position against the wall by the door.
Hyunjae cleared his throat, head ducking as his hand cupped the back of his neck. “Oh, really? You saw that?”
“I heard what she said to you—”
His head whipped up at that.
“—and I can’t believe she said that,” you said, those dagger-sharp words echoing in your mind from what Ellie had said to him about his own character. “Are you… are you okay?”
Hyunjae’s eyes widened a millimeter. “Am—am I okay?” He stammered.
“Yeah, I mean, she said that you were awful and it was…” You shook your head with a haggard sigh. “I’m sorry she said all that to you.”
“Thanks,” he exhaled, peering over at you through his eyelashes. He looked so small for once. “I—” He huffed air out from his nostrils, leaning his head back against the wall as he struggled to find the words he wanted to say. “Is that all you heard though?”
No, I also heard her insist you ask me what the play is about. You blinked, your own voice seemingly trapped in your throat. Why couldn’t you just own up to it?
But he must have taken your silence as you saying that you hadn’t heard anything else, so he gathered his wits to ask you, “Yn, what’s the play really about?”
The breath left your lungs. “You know what it’s about, Jae. You were there while I wrote it.” Please don’t make me say it. Please don’t make me say it. Because a part of you knew that if he pushed, you would give. You would tell him because… how could you not? If he wanted you to be honest with him, then… oh god, would you really? Would you risk this little secret of yours and ruin a friendship? Either way—it could go either way.
His tongue darted out for a moment as he carded a hand through his hair; he took a couple steps toward you. “I know, Yn. But—Ellie kept on insisting that I ask you what the real idea behind the play is. And she—and she,” he laughed, the sound disbelieving, “she said that you stole the idea from her, which is crazy! I know it’s crazy, because I watched you labor over this thing for months.”
She what? All thoughts except for one left your brain at that moment: why in the world would Ellie tell Hyunjae that you stole the idea for Jasmine from her? You didn’t remember ever seeing this kind of work from her before. “I didn’t steal anything from her.”
“I know,” he replied again, placating you. He now stood right in front of you, but your eyes raced back and forth about a mile a minute as you mentally went through the things you remember ever writing with her. You couldn’t remember; you couldn’t think. Why would she say that? “So I just wanted to ask,” he said slowly, his words drawn out as he leaned down slightly so you would look him in the eyes, “what is the play really about? The real meaning.”
There were pros and cons to telling him. On the one hand, you could spew the same surface-level bullshit that you usually did, but you had a feeling that one wouldn’t work this time. On the other hand, you could tell him—the truth. That was the worst pill to swallow. It could end in utter catastrophe or it could end in your wildest dreams. But what if, when he didn’t feel the same about you, had to let you down easy and your friendship would never be the same ever again? You couldn’t bear losing him, you just couldn’t. You loved Hyunjae…
“Yn, you’re scaring me,” he said with an anxious laugh.
You met his eyes then. “You don’t trust me?” You blurted before you could stop yourself. Those words, that tone… it sounded to you like he really was starting to believe what Ellie told him.
Something flashed across his face, and he was racing to defend himself. “What? No, of course I trust you. I just—I just want to know what the real meaning behind the play was about; that’s all!” And if you can’t tell me, then what else am I supposed to believe? “Yn, come on, honey—please—”
“It’s about you.”
All breath left him. You saw the way one hundred and one emotions flickered through his eyes; all of thoughts racing about at once as he tried to comprehend. “What? I don’t—I don’t understand.”
You balled your hands into fists in front of you as the frustration suddenly bubbled to the surface. “I wrote it about us, Hyunjae,” you told him. “Alex is based on you, Kai is based on me. I’ve been in love with you since junior year of high school, and that is what the true premise of the play is about.” Your hands were shaking now, gesturing between the two of you in stiff, constrained motions like the feeling of your chest’s range of movements at this time.
You watched it dawn on him, watched him swallow—hard. “Yn, I’m sorry—”
“Jaehyun.”
He shut up immediately.
You pressed your fingers to the space between your eyes. For a second, you swore you could feel tears tickle the insides of your eyes, and you blinked them away, inhaling deeply to get your body to calm the fuck down. Why were you crying? There was no reason to be crying right now. “Can you—” you stumbled over your words for once, “—can you give me some space. I can’t… I can’t think.”
He obliged you, backing up a few steps, and you said fuck it. “Hyunjae, I need space. Please.”
You thought you saw hurt flash across his face, but you just wanted to be out of his eyesight. You couldn’t bear to feel those soft, sympathetic eyes on you. You couldn’t bear the weight of his “I’m sorry I don’t feel the same” right now.
“Okay,” he said, though barely audible.
It took a minute, but he left and you were finally able to suck in a large gulp of air. You strode out of the sound box and realized that everyone on stage was either looking your way, or had quickly turned their heads to pretend they hadn’t just seen that silent argument take place through the sound box window.
Your face and neck were on fire, but you swallowed your pride and returned to your rightful place in the middle aisles of the floor seats. You picked up your script from where you’d abandoned it by your bag. “Right,” you said, your voice shaky until you cleared your throat. (Your hands were definitely still a bit wobbly, but that wasn’t your greatest concern right now.) “Where were we? Scene one, right?”
Everyone slowly began making their way back to their original positions, but Younghoon walked up to the bottom stage and lowered his voice to say, “Yn, we can take a break if you need one. Take five, then reconvene.”
He probably knew what just went down in the sound box. Yet, you found yourself shaking your head. “No, it’s fine,” you assured him, un-reassuringly. “I can do this, Hoon.”
He frowned at you then—those damn, soulful eyes—but nodded, respecting your decision. Like everyone else, he returned to the original position his character was in at the top of the scene.
I’m sorry, his voice seemed to echo in your ears. A part of you ached at the thought of that stark hurt on his face, but you were hurting, too. Why would you send him away like that?
You blinked, your head clearing. “Okay, everyone. Let’s see it.”
— ✶
A few hours later, you finally had everyone wrap up for the night.
“Thanks for all your hard work today!” You exclaimed as the actors and techies began swarming the stage to put props away. You climbed up to the stage, too, jumping onto one of the backdrops that Younghoon was wheeling backstage to help him direct it through the heavy folds of the backdrop curtain.
Younghoon shot you a smile from the other side of the prop. “Well, Miss Director, nice work today.”
You returned the expression wholeheartedly. “Thanks, man. The same goes to you; I appreciate all your hard work today. And that idea for the wedding sequence was absolutely brilliant.”
He chuckled at that, and the two of you worked together to slot the prop onto the cart with the rest of the ones that were just like it. A couple of stagehands then moved the assembly line along and rolled the cart down the hall to lock up in one of the dressing rooms. “I like to think I’ve been to enough weddings at this point to know how to spice them up.”
“Ah, that’s right,” you mused along with him as the two of you began walking down the backstage corridor to where you knew his partner was hard at work with that miraculous fountain. “I remember something about yours and YH!Yn’s first proper outing being to your cousin’s wedding?”
Younghoon threw his head back with a hearty chuckle at that. “Your memory serves you correctly then,” he confirmed. “Well, it wasn’t our first proper outing together. Technically, we met at an outing—”
“What do you think they were arguing about? It looked like they broke up or something.”
The line caught you off guard, and your footsteps faltered. Younghoon gave you a confused look, eyebrow arched. Your ears strained to eavesdrop on the conversation happening in one of the open dressing rooms you just passed by.
“No way that they were dating! … okay, I guess that would make sense why she put up with him all the time,” a second voice scoffed. “Maybe she finally got tired of his bullshit and cut him off.”
“That would make sense as to why he got out of the theater so fast. I went to their high school, and even after Hyunjae left, the year above me still talked about him—”
Your hand slammed against the doorframe of the dressing room, effectively making the two stagehands inside jump in surprise. They gaped at you with wide eyes, lips parted in shock as you addressed them with a carefully-made blank expression. “Let’s not go sticking our noses where they aren’t appreciated, yeah? Worry about yourselves, thanks.”
The two bowed their heads, apologies crawling from their mouths, and you turned back into the hallway where Younghoon was waiting for you.
You resumed your walk down the hall, and your friend casted you a side-long glance. “Thanks for standing up for him like you do,” he said to you. “I don’t know what happened today, but…”
“It doesn’t matter what happened today,” you said to Younghoon with a small exhale. You gave him a smile, even though you knew it wasn’t convincing. “I’ll always stand up for him.”
“Even when he doesn’t deserve it?” Younghoon joked with a laugh.
Your smile curled a little wider. “Even when he doesn’t deserve it.” In reality, you knew that he deserved to have someone stand up for him. Whether that be you, or Younghoon, or even Jihoon—you knew that everyone deserved to have someone watch their back when they weren’t around. You might have pushed him away earlier this evening, but that would never stop you from continuing to protect him. It was simple, really; you loved him.
EPISODE NINE: ARE DRAMA MAJORS ALWAYS SO DRAMATIC? WAIT, DON’T ANSWER THAT.
“I don’t understand why we couldn’t have done this in the grocery store like you guys always do,” Hyunjae grumbled as sounds of livelihood raged all around him: pots and pans clanged to the sizzle of food on the stove, the TV played some random American murder mystery show on low volume, and Hyunjae was sandwiched in between two others on his and Younghoon’s apartment couch.
Chanhee, who sat on the other side of Juyeon (who was on one side of Hyunjae), snorted. His nose was in his phone as he scrolled through Instagram, but didn’t look up as he replied, “As if we’d let you into Grocery Aisle Therapy. That’s exclusive admission.”
“That’s true,” Jacob chimed in from Hyunjae’s other side, as the man spooned a generous helping of Frosted Flakes into his mouth, “I tried.”
“And if even Jacob was denied entry,” Sangyeon mused from the kitchen as he turned off the stove and hood range, carrying over a bowl of the fried rice he had made for himself. Haknyeon skipped behind him with his own bowl and his cheeks were already full of the delicious food. Eric and Sunwoo were swift to follow their friend’s lead and raced into the kitchen to get a helping for themselves.
Changmin made a face from where he sat on the floor below Chanhee and Younghoon. “Not for lack of trying. You should’ve seen JC!Yn try to resist his goo-goo eyes. Bleh,” he gagged.
“I admire her tenacity then,” Hyunjae sniffed. “Not everyone can resist Jacob.”
Jacob beamed.
Kevin narrowed his eyes at Changmin. He sat just a few spaces away from the glasses-wearing menace, but carefully cross-legged and cradling a bowl of popcorn in his hands. “You say that when you literally pined after your girlfriend like an angsty teenager for three years.” He feigned a face of contemplation, then added, “Oh wait, you actually are an angsty teen—aye! Dad, Changmin hit me!”
“I am so sick of this family,” Sangyeon mumbled under his breath as he collapsed into the armchair adjacent to the sofa-sectional everyone else flocked upon. “Enough, both of you. Why were we all called here, again?”
Eric slid back into the living room on the polished wood floors in his socks, then perched atop the arm of Sangyeon’s armchair as he feasted upon his bowl of fried rice. He carefully lowered each spoonful of rice into his mouth so he wouldn’t dirty the fluffy cardigan he now wore. "Hyung's in trouble with his lady lover."
“Lady lover?” Sunwoo echoed with his face scrunched up like he just ate something sour. He had taken the spot between Kevin and Changmin to hopefully stop one from kicking the other again (hopefully).
"You're so judgmental."
"And you're—"
Sangyeon massaged the migraine pulsing in his temples away furiously with a clear grimace. "Shush, children. What did you do this time, Hyunjae?"
Hyunjae's jaw dropped, an image akin to one particular Pikachu meme. "Why am I immediately assumed to be the one at fault?"
"You summoned us all here," Haknyeon said with a shrug. "And Younghoon hyung said that it looked like you and Yn-ie suffered a break up in front of the entire main cast of Jasmine."
Hyunjae threw a displeased glance Younghoon's way; the tall man grinned sheepishly as if saying "what was I supposed to do—lie?" Hyunjae stared down at his lap, fidgeting with his fingers and the watch on his wrist. "It wasn't a break up…"
Kevin made a disapproving noise. "Oh, we know."
Hyunjae glared down at the top of Kevin's head. "Rude."
"Okay, so explain what happened," Juyeon prompted.
The man in question sucked in a breath. Where to begin? Someone muted the TV, so Hyunjae and Younghoon's apartment descended into a coat of silence. Everyone waited for Hyunjae's response.
Hyunjae decided that there was only one logical way to start. He began when he first received a text message from the elusive 'Ellie', your supposed best friend before him. He couldn't believe you had a soulmate other than him, but it only mattered that you two had found each other—not that that mattered—
He went through the entire spiel: Ellie had texted him about some project they worked on together in senior year of high school. He hadn't known why she would even care about something dumb they'd done in high school especially when she was a fourth year in college like the rest of you. But she had asked politely and he wasn't one to just dismiss someone when it was a simple, innocent request. However, when he had finished with this little task, he should have stopped there.
Their conversations eventually escalated from innocent "oh, you remember when…" to "if we meet, you have to agree to hear my side of the argument." He remembered her exact words: "You'll be very shocked to hear the truth" regarding your business with the play. He wanted to look out for you like you always did for him (and screw it, he was curious), so he obliged Ellie and met with her.
That had been one of many mistakes he made. The biggest mistake was what went down at the theater a couple of days ago. And now? He had just made you confess to him, he had broken your trust, and he didn't know how he was going to make it up to you.
(He had to admit though, that once he finally got space to think about what you said to him, there was something about the prospect of you being in love with him that gave his heart a lively kick-start—)
Chanhee reached over Juyeon's head and swatted Hyunjae's neck like there was a very large mosquito there. "You dumbass!"
Hyunjae yelped, his hand reaching up to rub the aching place furiously. "Ow!"
"Deserved," Kevin sang as he tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "That was super not cool, man."
"You don't think I know that?" He rolled his eyes.
"Yes," everyone chorused together.
Cue his next set of eye rolls.
"Hyung," said Sunwoo as he shifted so he faced Hyunjae. His eyes squinted up at him, his curly bangs falling into his pupils as they usually did. "How could you not see that she was in love with you? You have to be blinder than a bat."
"You've been hanging out with SW!Yn too much," Changmin teased.
"Hey, don't bring her into this and taint her good name! Even she saw how perfectly enraptured Yn-ie is."
Changmin opened his mouth to make another unnecessary comment, but Sunwoo slapped a palm over his friend's mouth.
"I guess that leaves one question," said Juyeon, finally, after a long stretch of his silence.
"And what's that, Juyeonie?" Sangyeon asked.
Juyeon pursed his lips together in a slight pout. "What else? Are you in love with Yn, too, Hyunjae?"
Oh—
Hyunjae's thoughts careened to a stop when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He maneuvered around on the couch cushion to retrieve the device, his heart pounding in anticipation—but that emotion was immediately swapped out with utter disdain.
His friends observed this flip with great interest. "Who—"
An indignant spark lit Hyunjae's dark irises as he furiously typed something to the sender and promptly blocked the number.
Jacob and Juyeon, who were able to peer over at Hyunjae's phone screen, both widened their eyes in scandal. Jacob grinned, lifting his hand to delicately hide his snickers. "Well that answers our question."
Hyunjae sulked, swiping through his contacts, then blocking Ellie's number, too. He should have done that so damn long ago.
"It was some guy asking if he knew if Yn was free in two weeks—"
"And she's not," Hyunjae grunted, shoving his phone back into his pocket, then standing up to go get Sangyeon's fried rice in the kitchen. "These fucking guys, man. Like, what the fuck am I gonna do? Hype you up to her? No way in hell—" He scoffed, slapping a spatula of rice into his bowl with a strength that the bowl, rice, and utensil didn't deserve.
He couldn't believe that one stupid, little thing the two of you had done in freshman year of college had led to this spam of dudes flooding his inbox for you. If he had half a mind, he would declare that you weren't on the market anymore and that you weren't even interested in seeing any… body…
The thought marinated in his head for a moment as he slowly chewed the fried rice. Why did he want you "off the market"? You were his best friend, but you weren't his to covet or shield or speak for. You weren't his.
You weren't… his.
"Oh my god, you can actually see the neurons firing in his brain for once."
Hyunjae plopped himself back into his original place on the couch. "I hate you guys."
"So you've realized that you're in love with her?" Younghoon asked exasperatedly, his hands splayed out on his legs like he was begging to the cosmos.
Hyunjae made a face and pretended that his heart wasn't palpitating and that a drop of sweat wasn't dripping down the back of his neck right now. "What? Of course not," he said through a mouthful of fried rice.
One could hear the collective exhale of disappointment all the way to your townhouse.
— ✶
It was Thursday evening when you found yourself walking out of the performing arts hall after yet another rehearsal, and coming face to face with the person who had become one of your greatest problems over the past month.
Your hand stopped in midair from which you were brushing the hair out of your face when you and a young woman made eye contact. She was seated on one of the benches facing the entryway of the performing arts hall, her attention lifting away from her phone and to you. The sky remained alight and streaked in its dazzling sunset colors, and yet, the sight of her made everything feel grayed.
She smiled at you. "Ah, you're done."
Something crawled beneath the surface of your skin. For a second, you thought it was disgust, but upon further thought, it was really something bittersweet. You swallowed, adjusting your hold on your bag strap. "Can I help you?"
"Do you remember me, Yn?"
"Of course, I do, Ellie." How could I forget you?
Ellie's smile shuddered and you suddenly couldn't read her face. It was strange seeing her four years into the future. You remembered catching glimpses of her in the hallways, her sweet smile and button nose, the freckles sprinkled across her cheekbones like kisses from the sun. "I guess that's one thing out of the way."
Her biting words to Hyunjae appeared in the forefront of your mind. "What you said to Hyunjae—"
"Was true," she cut in. "And based on the fact that he blocked me a few days ago, I'm guessing that something happened between you two." Her lips curled upward, "How does it feel to know he actually doubted you? If I'm being honest, it makes me fucking sing, Yn!" There was a shiver-inducing giddiness to her voice and you wondered if this was all a joke. It would be a cruel joke, but anything would be better than this.
Could she see the horror on your face? "Ellie, we were friends," you managed to say.
She pressed her lips together. "We were friends until you decided that we weren't."
"What are you talking about?" You threw back at her. "We drifted apart—"
"You abandoned me," she quipped. The smile was gone now, her mouth set into a taut line. "You left me to rot."
Your heart dropped into your stomach. About a million things flashed through your mind, but most of all, you came to a very fast epiphany: you'd always thought she was happy. "Ellie," you said, slowly, softly, "I'm sorry that you felt that way. Really, I am so sorry."
"I've made sure you feel that way."
"But you should have left Hyunjae out of this."
Ellie laughed and the sound was harsh. "This isn't about your stupid best friend, or whatever. This is about you and me. I can't believe you thought—how could you prefer him over me? Why did you stop talking to me, Yn?"
You were so confused. All this time, you had thought that yours and Ellie's friendship ended on a mutually neutral ground. You thought that you had just drifted away from one another from the eventuality of time. Was that not how she saw it this entire time?
The end of Ellie's question took on a raspy undertone, the gleam in her eyes less so that of anger, but the melancholy underneath. You wanted to make things right, but you didn't know what that was.
When you had yet to say anything except for letting the breeze waft past your face, she let out a scoff. It was a somewhat embarrassed sound, her eyes skittish. "You know that my parents always compared me to you. Constantly. You remember what you said to me?"
You swallowed. "'They can compare all they want, but you'll always be enough for me.'"
"I didn't want to bother you when we 'drifted apart', as you say," she continued on with a huff. "And then I saw you and Hyunjae, and the way you looked at him—god, I knew right away, Yn. And I was so bitter. Just so, so bitter." She shook her head. "I've been thinking about this for a long time."
Dear god, you hadn't known this whole time. You'd wished you had known. You didn't know what you might have done differently—maybe not have been so blind—but… what if you couldn't have saved that friendship? Was this always meant to happen in the grand scheme of the universe's stage?
You made your way toward her and she simply watched as you stopped a handful of paces away from her. “I didn’t mean to drift away from you or to make you feel like I was replacing you in any way.” For a moment, you were quiet, and you inhaled a deep breath to query, "What made you suddenly want to confront me after so long then?"
She peered up at you, a mixture of sadness and something sharper in the reflection of her irises. "You didn't have to keep getting better and showing off. I just got sick of living in your shadow when you weren't even there."
You bristled at that. “What else could I have done? I’m sorry you felt that way, really, but I had a lot of pressure on my shoulders, too. I wanted them to stop expecting more from me, but each time I did something right, they kept pushing for more. And I—”
“I just wanted my friend back!” She exclaimed.
The words died on your tongue, dissipating in the tense air between you two. The fight left you then, seeing the hard break in her expression, a sliver of the girl you remembered from so long ago. What happened to her? She’d been poisoned by whatever feelings were locked inside her, and you supposed that it was only inevitable that those same feelings would one day be unleashed. You wished she didn’t have to confront you this way. "So you thought lying to Hyunjae would have done the trick?" You finally murmured.
"You didn't figure out who's been messing around with your production all quarter?"
The question caught you off guard, but you were quick to catch on nonetheless. Your breath hitched as you stood there, stunned. "That was you?"
A nod.
"All of it?" Disbelief struck you clean across the face and you felt like you'd just been slapped. A new level of anger boiled in your blood; all of those nights you spent creeped out of your mind, the extra stress from all the superstitious bullshit—
"This is our last act," she said, her tongue darting out for a moment. "I don't want anything else from you after this."
You couldn’t believe she would go through all of this trouble—all for what? All to prove what? It was utterly childish, preposterous, dramatic. “Good,” you asserted, as firmly as you could muster, “I don’t want anything from you either.”
And there was a split-second where you saw a crack in her expression, truly. Before, when you’d seen that bit of melancholy seep through, it must have been purposeful. Perhaps it was to draw some kind of sympathy or guilt from you, but after she admitted to doing all of that crap to you and your peers, you weren’t about to lean into that, old friend be damned. Of course you felt bad that she had felt like that for so long. You pitied her. But it didn’t mean you had to forgive her; not for this.
Maybe this was it though: all she wanted from you was for you to feel as helpless as she had, but you simply couldn’t feel that way. All that you could feel was cold fury.
“Fine,” she cleared her throat, straightening. “I hope you learned your lesson.”
You let out a scoff, the sound making her eyelids shudder. Your teeth grated against each other as you closed yours and her “final act”: “And I hope you’ve learned yours. I hope I never see you again.”
You turned brusquely on your heel to walk away before you did anything rash. But a sudden thought appeared on the tip of your tongue, and you found yourself stopping. When you glanced back at her, she was watching you leave with an emotion you couldn’t quite detect. The two of you had been such good friends, and… you really wished you could understand her position better. “I just don’t understand why you went through all this trouble. If you had just—texted me, called me—” You made a gesture with your hand then let the limb fall limply to your side, “You could’ve just said hi.”
You left her behind after that, purposefully this time. Did people like Ellie deserve their chance at redemption? Maybe when the dust had settled, but for now, you hoped she received her due karma.
EPISODE TEN: GOOGLE, DEFINE DRAMATIC IRONY.
THEY said that a terrible dress rehearsal marked a production for a brilliant opening night. As Michael, the wine salesman dude, forgot his fifth line of the rehearsal; as the tech staff in the box forgot their second lighting cue of the night; and as Hongjoong continued to have to fuss over San’s Uncle™ beard for the third time, you were trying very hard to keep that saying in mind.
Weeks had passed—you didn’t know how many, maybe five, maybe two, maybe an entire year—but that entire time, you didn’t feel Ellie’s presence haunting you anymore, nor had you heard from Hyunjae yet. He was busy with his architectural capstone project, anyway, and you felt that you both needed to take this time to yourselves to focus on more important things. (You thought this as if your friendship with him didn’t mean the absolute fucking world, but you were pretty sure you were seconds away from setting this building on fire so—)
The dreaded Tech Week had descended upon the cast and crew of Jasmine. Not only that, but it was also Finals Week, meaning everyone in this room was just as stressed out as they usually were, except, five times more. It made for a great rehearsal, clearly.
“—remember that as soon as she says ‘fine!’, you have to be out here to pull the rug out from beneath her feet,” you instructed the stagehand, who looked a millisecond away from passing out right there on the stage.
When they nodded their understanding, you turned away with a migraine pounding away at your temples. You just had to get through one more act, and you could call it a night. Opening night was literally in four days, and you were trying not to yearn after your best friend and feel guilty about pushing him away—and then there was the guilt that had slowly bubbled up over the past few weeks from what happened with Ellie. Maybe it had been all your fault—
“Yn, your eye is twitching.”
“Huh?” You perked up from where you were seemingly glaring a hole in the ground of the nosebleeds. Younghoon shot you an amused, yet mildly concerned look from within the winds of the stage. “Oh, sorry. Can we take it from the top of act three, please? One more act, people; let’s hang in there.”
That latter bit was more for you.
By the end of rehearsal, everyone was just as happy as you were to head home. Today was Monday, the beginning of the week, and yet you wished it was Saturday already—graduation. Now that was the light at the end of the tunnel.
Younghoon held the door open for you as the two of you exited out the front doors of the performing arts hall. When you murmured a thank you to him, he fell into step with you easily. The walk to the bus station seemed impossibly long with the ache in your legs.
Younghoon released a low-sounding whistle. “So…”
“Hm?”
“Are you coming to Cobie’s surprise birthday party tomorrow? I know it’s finals week and tech week, but it’d be nice to have that little break beforehand.”
Oh, right. Hyunjae’s friend Jacob was having his birthday party—well, it wasn’t him who was hosting, but his girlfriend. She had organized all of it, and had even had the good will to extend an invitation to you. At the time, you couldn’t find it in you to say no, despite the knowledge of your busy month at the forefront of your mind. But even now, you found it hard to really formulate a concrete response. The uneasiness was creeping up on you again.
“I dunno, Hoon…” you said lowly with a wince. “Maybe I should just catch up on sleep, y’know? And plus, I don’t want my feelings for Hyunjae to ruin the mood or anything. I’m kind of a Debby Downer right now,” you laughed pitifully.
Younghoon’s mouth curved into a frown. “Yn, you’re not a downer. You’re stressed and you have a lot of burden on your shoulders, but… I think something carefree will be good for you, no? Maybe you should at least stop by and say hello to people—take advantage of Hyunjae having to be in charge of providing free booze for everyone.”
You glanced up at him, meeting his kind eyes. “I’ll think about it,” you promised. You were probably too tired to think logically about going anywhere else but your bed at this moment.
Younghoon nodded. “Okay.”
As the two of you carried on down the stairs now, the bus stop in sight, you gathered your wits about you. “How is… how is he, by the way?” You asked.
Younghoon peered at you with something akin to gentleness and sympathy. “He’s… I think he’s okay.” He squinted one eye as he looked up toward the night sky, the thoughts meandering about his head. “You just have to give him some time. You know how stubborn he is,” he joked.
You could only give a shallow nod at that.
Not one to let a friend leave him so upset, he nudged you with the back of his hand. “Hey, don’t worry too much about him, okay? You have a lot on your plate right now, and you deserve to have your head in the game, okay? It’s all gonna be okay.”
“You always have such a way with words,” you laughed lightly as you wiped a tear from your eye—whether it was from emotions or just being plain exhausted, you couldn’t tell.
He smiled again then. “If I wrote down these words, I’d be stealing your job, Miss Director.”
Your laugh was a little brighter at that note. “Okay, Actor Extraordinaire. We’ll see about that.”
The two of you shared a laugh, and when you reached the bus stop, Younghoon waited until the bus came by to pick you up. It wasn’t yet deep night, but he was a gentleman all the same. You climbed up into the bus, scanning your transportation card as you went, then sat by a window to wave to Younghoon.
When the bus pulled away from the curb and away into the night, Younghoon pulled out his phone to the text chain with his partner. He’d come to a decision then, and as hungry as he was, he figured he could channel this annoyance into confronting one certain man by the name of Lee Jaehyun.
younghoon’s phone: love, i think i’m going to be late for dinner
beloved mastermind: i’ll save u a seat <;3
— ✶
The lights beneath the swimming pool glowed an ethereal shade of fluorescent blue. It reminded Younghoon of a mermaid's cove with the way the light waves reflected off the ceilings of the building to create scales on the rafters. The emptiness of the indoor swimming pool was offset by the thrashing of flesh against water as a lone swimmer stole lap after lap across the great blue.
Younghoon lowered himself onto a steel bleacher and watched Hyunjae bolt from one end of the pool to the next, hardly taking the time to breathe air, like he breathed chlorine and water instead. The familiarity of the smell—warm stone, pungent chemicals—sent flashes of Younghoon's own days on the high school swim team to his mind.
At last, Hyunjae took his final lap, his breathing coming out labored as he swept a hand up his face and through his hair. His locks slicked all the way back, and his chest rose and fell harshly as adrenaline pumped through his veins and his lungs fought to consume oxygen without asphyxiating on it.
Hyunjae clambered his elbows onto the deck. "How'd you—know I was here?" He managed to say, nodding his thanks as Younghoon handed him the water bottle at the other end of the bench from him where Hyunjae's duffle bag sat.
Younghoon gave a meager shoulder shrug. "I know you too well not to," he said. The two were both swimmers, and where else would swimmers go to put their head somewhere else and to escape the world?
Hyunjae couldn't argue with that.
The two friends were quiet for a minute as Younghoon let Hyunjae catch his breath. There was something troubling about seeing him so tense, even after pumping out so many laps. The exhaustion didn't seem to outweigh the conflict warring in his mind.
Finally— "Hyunjae-ah, what are you doing?"
Hyunjae blinked up at him, perplexed. "Huh?"
Younghoon leaned his cheek against his palm, elbow resting on top of his knee. He fixed him with a stare. "What are you doing?" He repeated.
This time, the message seemed to have been delivered successfully. Hyunjae licked his lips, his gaze averting away from Younghoon. "Did you come here just to scold me?"
"No, I came here to tell you you're being an angsty teen."
Hyunjae scowled, his lips pressed into a pout. "No, I'm not."
Younghoon rolled his eyes just as his stomach grumbled in protest at him not going straight to meet his partner for dinner. Instead, here he was, trying to talk sense to a wall. "You're so childish sometimes."
He quieted. Hyunjae leaned his head against the meat of his forearm, eyes fluttering closed against the warmth of the heated pool deck. "How is she?"
"She's not good, but she's also not bad," Younghoon replied. He sighed, leaning forward onto his forearms for a more comfortable confrontation position. His lips pulled into a line. "Stressed, of course, but I think that was a given."
Hyunjae rubbed his eyes. "I fucked up, Younghoon."
A solemn nod. "I'm glad you see it now."
"This isn't a joke."
"I'm not saying it's a joke."
Hyunjae squinted at him. "Sometimes I don't believe you."
Younghoon smiled cheekily. "Well, sometimes you have to pick who and what to believe."
That hit a nerve, even if Younghoon didn't mean it to. Hyunjae immediately thought of yours and his last conversation. He couldn't get the image out of his head of the look of betrayal on your face when you asked him if he didn't trust you. He'd been stupid to be so curious, but of course he trusted you. He'd always trusted you. Who else could he trust but the very person who always protected him and was by his side? So why did he have to go and be so stupid?
He backed away from the wall for a minute and simply stood in the middle of the shallow lane as if the water could give him wisdom. "I," he began, then sighed, "I miss her a lot. I've wanted to text her, to call her so many times." He smiled, but it wasn't a happy one. "I think I just don't know what I would say."
"An apology would be a good start," suggested Younghoon.
"Right…" That was obvious, and yet, it was always the most difficult step. Would you let him come back into your life after a reveal like that? Feelings were such fragile, fickle things.
His heart sank at the idea of losing you forever though.
One day, she'll drop you, too, those damned words replayed over and over in his head like a broken record. —When she finds someone better… I don't know why she went to you, though. You are awful. I've heard all the stories.
Once upon a time, Hyunjae hadn't always been "awful" or dogged down by other people's negative testimonials about his attitude. So what if he had been "scorned by love" as you so lovingly put it one time? That experience had been enough for him to shut down all access points, keeping you sheltered in with him. It was hard for him to think of wanting to be with anyone else… but you.
He didn't mean to latch onto you so tight, but perhaps he had grown so dependent on you all this time. You had never given him reason to doubt how much you cared—god, why had he been so stupid?
Younghoon watched Hyunjae's inner conflict through the windows to his soul, glowing with the cerulean blue of the chemically altered pool water. "Hyunjae, do you love her?"
Of course he loved you. That was out of the question. But this was a different type of love that Younghoon was referring to, and it called for something much larger in the grand scheme of things.
That kind of love—what a frightening prospect, he thought. But didn't you make everything so much less frightening?
EPISODE ELEVEN: PLACES, EVERYONE!
"YOU stole my boyfriend, by the way." Hyunjae huffed as he set down the last two grocery bags he had helped bring up to the apartment from Juyeon's car.
JC!Yn barely batted an eyelash at him as she swept past to organize the utensils and cups set out on the breakfast table. “You snooze, you lose, Lee,” she teased with a sing-song tone.
From the front door, Sangyeon bumbled in with a clean, crisp white box, as he whistled a happy tune under his breath. JC!Yn greeted him at the entryway, thanking him profusely for picking up the cake, then taking the box from him so she could transfer it to the fridge for safe keeping.
“Chanhee says that he’s bringing his best friend, so he wants everyone to—I quote—‘not be embarrassing’,” Changmin snorted and giggled loudly from the couch where he relayed the information from his texts with Chanhee.
“That’ll be difficult for you,” CM!Yn quipped back so fast that Hyunjae couldn’t even suppress the high-pitched laugh he let out. Not that he wanted to suppress it; he had to admit that Changmin’s girlfriend was just as much a menace as her boyfriend was.
As Changmin’s jaw dropped and he pounced on top of her to tickle her into submission, Hyunjae averted his gaze elsewhere. He pulled his phone out, leaning against the granite kitchen countertop while he read Younghoon’s latest text notifications.
bread face: we’ll be there soon
bread face: i think i saw kevin and jacob a few cars behind us at the intersection, so i’m making haknyeon step on it
hyunjae’s phone: lol i was gonna chastise u about texting and driving hoon
bread face: tch pls, i’m better than that 🙄
bread face: i would at least make yh!yn do my texts for me 🤪
Hyunjae glanced up just in time to see JC!Yn’s front door open to reveal Chanhee and Eric, along with their plus ones. He tongued the inside of his cheek, thinking offhandedly at the fact that so many of his friends had found people to be with. It felt like they were all growing up far too fast; even as a fourth-year in university, it was unimaginable. Where would they all be in ten years? Where would he be?
He hoped, at the very least, that he might see you in his future—one way or another. As long as he could pull his shit together and finally talk to you.
hyunjae’s phone: almost everyone’s here btw r u guys close??
bread face: yeah, pulling up one block over so they don’t see hak’s car
bread face: hey, do yk if yn’s coming today?
Hyunjae’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard, then he typed in the clear answer: no, not a clue. I have a feeling she won’t be here though.
He tucked his phone away, looking over to see that JC!Yn’s roommate, Kei, had just stepped out of her room with a finished “Happy Birthday, Jacob” banner. “Hey, you need help with that?”
— ✶
The party was well under way, and suffice to say, the surprise party had been an entire success. Because Jacob was definitely not a fan of being jumpscared, it was good foresight that everyone was just in sight when he and Kevin opened the door. He had no clue that his partner had organized this for everyone and that everyone else was in on it. (Even Eric was able to keep the secret in the wraps, no doubt with the help of his significant other.) Almost all of his friends had brought along a plus-one, minus the singletons (himself, Juyeon, Kevin, and Sangyeon—though, that was still debatable) and Haknyeon and Sunwoo who’s significant others weren’t too close with the group just yet. It was a marvel that Younghoon’s girlfriend decided to come, too, but she said she would probably leave early anyway.
“You’re so sad-looking,” said Juyeon as he hopped onto the island counter next to Hyunjae. The two of them could scope out the whole apartment from this vantage point; the mood seemed to be at an all-time high, despite it being an incredibly stressful week for everyone.
Hyunjae made an indignant noise and he lifted his plastic cup of soda to his lips. “Pfft. I’m not sad-looking.”
Juyeon gave a meager shrug. “Every time you see someone and their partner, you look like your puppy just got taken.”
“That’s—” he stammered in protest, “—that’s not true. I—I just keep thinking about my arch capstone, that’s all! School is ruining my life.” The lie was so stark that even Hyunje winced to himself.
“Ah, well, I can relate to that,” his friend sighed. The two gazed out at the party, their ears perking up when they heard Sangyeon say something about him and Jacob needing to step outside for Jacob’s birthday gift—whatever that meant. Hyunjae and Juyeon exchanged strange looks with one another, before bursting into laughter.
Not even a few minutes had passed before Jacob and Sangyeon walked back into the apartment with everyone’s curiosity piqued. Jacob had on the best poker face that he could muster, his lips pressed together but a muscle in the corner of his mouth twitching upward like he was either trying not to laugh or smile.
“Well?” Kevin was the first to voice. He, along with everyone else over at the couch, leaned over the back of the furniture, their eyes wide like dogs waiting for a treat. Hyunjae and Juyeon probably looked similar from their perches.
“He asked for proof of my girlfriend,” Sangyeon said as he closed the front door behind him.
Hyunjae snorted, catching a slight glare from the eldest in the room. For however long, their friend group had an ongoing inside joke that Sangyeon pretended to have a “secret girlfriend.” It was only because Sangyeon had never once provided concrete proof, and maybe it was because he purposefully withheld it, but Hyunjae simply couldn’t understand why. Thus, the hilarious teasing of their eldest friend. Nonetheless, Hyunjae and everyone else remained curious as to the truth.
“Well then?” Juyeon pressed, “What’s the verdict, Cobie?”
The smile on his face really couldn’t be suppressed anymore, and it looked so close to a smirk. Jacob grinned, strolling over to the couch to resume his place between his best friend and girlfriend. “No comment.”
The room erupted into a loud groan from seemingly everyone. “What kind of answer—”
Even Sangyeon looked frustrated and his eyebrows furrowed together, paired with a slight parting of his lips. “Birthday Boy has so much audacity today. Dude, I literally showed you—”
At the sound of the doorbell tone, everyone paused. Hyunjae hopped off the counter, chirping, “I’ll get it!”
No one was opposed to Hyunjae opening the door as everyone else engaged in a battle of wits commenting on Jacob's refusal to confirm nor deny the existence of a future Mrs. Lee Sangyeon. Hyunjae reached the front door and peered through the peephole curiously—then stiffened.
You stood on the other side, your hands fidgety as you played around with the little gift bag in your hands, no doubt for Jacob.
He could hardly believe his eyes—you actually came.
He opened the door without much else left to do. Your gazes clashed in the front threshold of JC!Yn's apartment, your breaths leaving your lungs at the sight of the other. Hyunjae swallowed; he hated this tension, hated the way he couldn't just wind his arms around you as easily as he had done before. The palpitations of his heart were teetering on dangerous territory, and he chalked it up to the fact that he was nervous he might be making you uncomfortable.
"Hey, come in," he murmured low but soft, stepping aside to give you space. He barely registered the background noise at this point.
"Thanks," you said back, your voice barely audible. You stepped out of your shoes and nudged them toward the massive pile by the shoe rack, like an ocean of footwear wherein one must play a matching game in order to leave. You coughed, "Uhm, is there a place where I can put this?" You lifted your gift bag half-heartedly.
"Oh, I can put it—" he automatically reached out for it, and when his fingers grazed against yours, the two of you jolted, "—away," he stammered. You let go of it so he could quickly grab hold and make his very awkward escape.
He dipped into JC!Yn's room where all the presents were being stashed, allowing himself to soak in a bit of quiet, even if he could still hear the muffled party just outside the room. That had to be the worst thing ever. Why was he so jumpy around you? It couldn't be that you professed your being in love with him, right? He wished it wasn't like this.
He needed to talk to you, damn it, he needed to fix this—
But when he emerged from the room and into the main living space, he saw you chatting with YH!Yn and Kevin and Changmin. He watched you smile at them and laugh and look way less awkward than you'd been with him just a minute ago. He remembered what this week was, what Friday was.
Opening night: the culmination of months' worth of blood, sweat, and tears.
He'd been there for you since the beginning of it. He couldn't see you fail, and this was the first time he'd seen you not stressed. He didn't have the heart to ruin that for you right now.
So instead of marching up to you and requesting an audience, he made his way over to a few of his other friends to join whatever conversation they were having. He would fix things when you didn't have five thousand other things to worry about. Today wasn't about him, after all.
EPISODE TWELVE: CALL TIME, BABY!
TONIGHT was the night. You thought you were going to throw up, to be honest, and you gently sipped on an iced caramel macchiato to keep your energy up. Perhaps the caffeine was making you just a little jittery, but it was probably the nerves—
"Yn!"
"Yeah, what's up?" You exclaimed, stopping in your tracks and just barely dodging the pair of stagehands hustling a backdrop past you.
Jihoon gestured wide with his arms. "Where are you going? Preshow's in seven minutes."
Oh, right. Your eyes widened in incredulity at your absentmindedness and practically jogged over to Jihoon and the other end of the corridor that led back toward backstage, instead of wherever the fuck you were off to… "Sorry," you muttered, waving vaguely to your head, "dunno what's up with me right now. Is everyone ready? Everything in place?"
He nodded, his eyes leaving you for a second while someone said something to him in his headset. "Ugh, shit. We can't find SW!Yn—ever since she got that boyfriend of hers—"
Your hands flapped between the two of you as you nodded your head vigorously—yeah, it was definitely the caffeine. "She's probably in the sound booth with Chan and the others. She's not that boy crazy."
Jihoon made an unconvinced expression, but bid you farewell nonetheless. He probably knew more than you did, but that was expected since you weren't exactly a long-term staff member working backstage. Jihoon ran a tight ship; there was no way anyone would risk a Jihoon stare by saying hi to their significant other.
You held your head in your hand and set your drink down on one of the stools by the edge of the room so it wouldn't get knocked over. Tonight was Opening Night—the night. Tonight, there was a full house, including your friends and family, everyone at school, and about a dozen or so industry experts. The latter weren't just here for you, but for your acting peers, as well. This was a critical night for everyone. It absolutely had to go right.
You shifted the headset on top of your head and made your way back down the corridor. You were far too antsy to just stay in one spot.
"—can one of you go check Jess's hair and makeup—no, don't just rip it, hon, that's not how it works!" You recognized that anguished cry anywhere, and you peered into the dressing room Hongjoong and a swarm of other busy people were.
"What's going on?" You asked.
Hongjoong's head whipped around so fast you were surprised he didn't get whiplash. "Yn, thank God! You know how to braid?"
"Jess still needs hair and makeup?"
"Yes, one of my people had to call out sick—thanks Yn-ie!" You were already on your way to find where Jess was before he had finished his sentence. You'd hardly even processed the fact that one of the costume staff had to call out sick—that wasn't your main concern right now—you literally had less than five minutes to locate Jess and yeet yourself backstage.
The sound in your headset sparked to life. "Sound to Yn, Yn to sound. Can you hear me?" Bang Chan's voice echoed into your ears.
You narrowly got beheaded by a portion of the wedding arch coming down the hallway. "Loud and clear; fuck, it's a mess back here, Chan." God, your head hurt and the play hadn't even begun yet.
"Hey, man. Take a little breath, okay? Yeah, there you go."
You sucked in a very large breath of air. The adrenaline was pumping through your veins and your hands suddenly felt very cold. "Hyunjae usually helped me through opening nights," you exhaled, your head swerving left and right as you checked each room for Jess's presence. "Where is she?"
"I know, Yn," he said gently. "You can do this though. I know you can. You've been waiting for this for four years—hell, even longer than that."
Your head bobbed up and down as if he could see you—oh shit, was that her you just saw?
"He's probably sitting in one of those velvet seats, absolutely pumped for you."
"Even though I completely fucked up our friendship?" You choked out, flagging Jess down. The poor girl looked frantic as she was trying to finish her stage makeup while also braiding her hair. There was no way she could do both, but you admired the attempt. You began to help her out with her hair as she used her phone as a mirror.
"I don't know what happened, Yn, but he loves you too much to not be here tonight."
It was suddenly very difficult to swallow.
"Preshow in two. Are you ready for this, Director Ln?"
You finished the braid, snapping the elastic with a crisp thwip. Tapping Jess to let her know she was good to go, you made an immediate reverse maneuver to backstage. You took a deep breath in once more—held it—
Get your head in the game. Chan was right—you'd been waiting for this for far too long, worked far too hard. You needed to put faith in your abilities and your peers. "Let's do this."
When you returned to the main backstage portion, you found techies ready to go, as well as your main cast. You caught Younghoon's eyes, silently asking for him to round up Eunwoo while you got Sana and Miyeon. Quickly, the five of you met in the middle.
"Everyone feeling okay?" You asked them, making eye contact with each and every one of them.
There was a buzz about the air, both nervous and excited. You could feel it in the way your hands shook, but you reminded yourself this was what you lived for. Someone, probably Chan, gave you the one minute warning.
"We're gonna do great out there," Younghoon affirmed.
"And when in doubt," Miyeon chimed in, "just improvise."
A small chuckle rang out, and you could hear the countdown in your ear. You had to go out on stage and greet everyone.
"Okay, I got my cue," you said to them. "Break a leg, everyone. Chins up, alright?"
"You too, Yn," Younghoon said to you with a pointed look.
A smile graced your face then, and something settled within your chest—finally—something like a calm. "I will."
— ✶
The only reason why Hyunjae knew how expensive flowers were was because he was well-versed in the nature of presenting you with them after each production you'd completed, whether that be through theater or film. It was all standard practice, and he couldn't believe Sunwoo had the audacity to argue with him and his girlfriend about when to send flowers backstage.
Flowers were to be withheld from reaching the actor, staff, or director until the end of the performance. It was just one of those other superstitious things.
So here he was, sitting shoulder to shoulder between Juyeon and a stranger, with a lap full of vibrant blooms in what he thought were the best seats in the house: the lower balcony seats. They were probably his favorite place to get a proper view of the stage while also not being as high as the top balcony and seeing the top of actors' heads. Maybe it was the child in him that liked anything concerning the balcony.
The play had been going strong for the entire run time. You had come out on stage at the very beginning to welcome everyone and thank them for coming tonight. All the relevant information about the play could be found in the playbills that were handed out at the door, and he had instinctively flipped through each page until he could confirm your name and Younghoon's were there. That had definitely brought a smile to his face.
But even now, as the play was coming to an end and the main characters ended up happy together, Hyunjae still couldn't get the smile off his face.
At curtain call, all the actors lined up on stage to take their bows. When you came out to gesture to your acting peers and take your own bow, everyone in Hyunjae's row, especially himself, stood to give you the standing ovation you deserved. Hyunjae's eyes watered as he whooped and cheered and whistled as loud as he could since the flowers made it difficult to clap.
As he and everyone else sat back into their seats, he had to sneak a hand up to delicately wipe his right eye.
"That's my best friend," he said to no one in particular, his laugh watery but proud.
The woman next to him heard him, though. "She's incredible."
Hyunjae smiled at her, then turned his head toward the stage again where you were corralling the main cast in a massive hug onstage. "I know; she's amazing." I love her.
— ✶
The entire performing arts hall was in a state of utter pandemonium. Both the auditorium and the backstage areas were swarmed with people trying to get out of the building, trying to find their friends, and a butt load of other things. You and all the cast members began helping backstage crew take everything down and lock them up; after all, they would need to be preserved for the next two performances of the show that would carry on through the first couple of weeks of summer. Opening Night was only the "presentation" of your thesis.
Tomorrow was Commencement Day—there were a great handful of you graduating literally tomorrow, including yourself, and so you'd all resolved to go home and save the celebration for another night.
As you wandered through the corridors and dressing rooms, you were sure to congratulate everyone for their hard work tonight. Your cheeks ached from smiling, pride singing through your blood, as well as the lingering adrenaline. But you couldn't deny that you were relieved that the night had gone, and gone well.
Friends and family members of the cast and crew began trickling into the backstage area, so the space to roam lessened considerably.
Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjae had rushed back here faster than his friends could stop him, antsy to finally congratulate you and let you know how proud he was and how great the play was. He craned his head over the sea of people, half his bouquet no doubt squished, but he was still determined.
There—he spotted the blazer you wore on stage—but you were all the way at the end of the corridor. There was no easy way through the people, and who knew if you would leave before he could get to you.
"Yn!" He hollered over all the noise.
Like clockwork, your head whipped around from the stagehand you were speaking animatedly with in search of who had called your name. You locked gazes with him, and there was a softening in your features.
(In a crowded room, all I'd see is y—)
His heart leapt and his legs jump-started into high gear, murmuring out sorries as he maneuvered his way toward you. There were tears pricking at his vision; he never cried for anything or anyone, but you'd been the only one to draw such emotion from him. You were the only one who deserved that emotion.
"Jae, you're here," you breathed out, but then somebody tapped your shoulder and nodded in the direction from which you came.
He saw the concern on your face, the sense of responsibility, and yet the reluctance, as well. "Call me when you're done," he said. He mustered a smile, pushing the flowers into your dumbfounded hands. "Promise to call me."
You managed to nod. "Yeah," you swallowed, "thanks for coming tonight."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world."
EPISODE THIRTEEN: ALL THE WORLD'S OUR STAGE
A couple of hours later, you'd managed to express your gratitude to nearly everyone and their mother for their work and help, as well as convince Jihyo to answer any calls that came in regarding the play tonight. It was a big ask and you had been reluctant to ask that of her, but you also knew you needed to talk to Hyunjae.
You made your way out the back door of the performing arts hall and into the warm, early Summer night. There weren’t too many people still around since the only handful of people left in the performing arts center were all older staff members and faculty. You spotted Hyunjae leaning against the wall by the staircase, his gaze lifting from his phone when he sensed you coming toward him. A small smile curled onto his lips, and you realized how much you missed the sight of it.
“Hey, sorry you had to wait for a while,” you said as you approached.
He tucked his hands into his pockets. “No, don’t worry about it. The play was—it was incredible, Yn. I’m really proud of you.”
Those words struck you even harder than you imagined him saying he loved you back would have. It meant a lot coming from other people, but it meant the most coming from him. “Thanks,” you rasped, the emotion shining through your voice, and you had to consciously reign yourself in. “I’m really sorry for what happened. I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that, and I know that my confession was kind of unexpected.”
“You shouldn’t have to apologize for that, Yn,” he said gently, his teeth biting down on his lower lip slightly. “I’m the sorry one. I mean, it was so stupid that I even entertained the idea of Ellie being remotely correct. It was a breach of trust and I crossed a boundary that I shouldn’t have. For that, I’m so sorry.”
You motioned to the path leading down the stairs and toward a path even you knew not where it would lead the two of you tonight. Hyunjae heard your silent suggestion, and the two of you began descending the stairs together, side by side. “Maybe I thought I wasn’t ready at that moment,” you confessed, “but maybe it was what needed to be said, you know?”
When you glanced over at him, you found that he was already looking back at you, clinging onto every word that came out of your mouth.
Your heart rate was still rocketing into the atmosphere right now, but you knew that it wasn’t from the play. “I think that I needed to say that—no matter if I was ‘ready’ or not. I don’t think I would have ever been ready, but…” Your foot hit the bottom step of the stairs, and you turned on the ball of your feet to face him, guiding the two of you down the path and away from your normal direction toward the bus station. “Before you say anything, just hear me out, okay?”
Hyunjae gave a nod, and your heart stuttered in your chest as you forged onward. “You don’t have to affirm my feelings if you don’t feel the same way,” you said, returning to your normal position at his side, “I think that was why I’ve been so afraid of telling you all this time—that you wouldn’t feel the same. That, and the fact that I was scared that telling you would absolutely wreck our friendship like it did these past few weeks.”
From beside you, Hyunjae managed to keep quiet, but his voice was also jammed inside his throat. It was filled up with all the things he’d wanted to say to you first, all the things that he wanted to say in response to what you were telling him now.
“Ellie confronted me the week after our fallout.” Hyunjae stiffened—had she done anything to you? “She told me that she was the one behind all the ‘pranks’ or whatever throughout the play rehearsals.”
“Yn, those weren’t pranks,” Hyunjae couldn’t help but cut in, “it was plain sabotage.”
Sabotage. You’d come to fear labeling her actions with that word, simply because you didn’t want to believe that that was her true intention. You struggled to swallow, stopping in the middle of the walkway. The two of you faced each other then, his eyebrows pressed together in shock and anger and every emotion in between. “She told me she did it to get back at me.”
“For what?”
“I abandoned her,” you told him. That emotion on his face shuddered like ripples in a pool of water. “It’s neither of your faults either, but I guess what I thought was drifting away from her and becoming closer to you, she saw in a more malicious light. And she said that she’d been sick of living in my shadow despite not even being in my life, and I’ve just been thinking about that for a while.” You said you’d be there for her, that she’d always be enough for you… how ironic that you’d been the one to drift away.
Hyunjae peered at you, a mess of things going through his head. You couldn’t imagine what he was thinking about right now, but you knew he was never the best at expressing his emotions and vulnerabilities.
It was okay, though. He didn’t have to say anything. “In that moment, I cut off all ties with her,” you clarified, “when she told me it was all her doing. Now, I just feel a little sad; I wished she would’ve just said hi to me.”
Hyunjae wet his lips, grasping your shoulders to get your attention. “You know you didn’t deserve any of that, right? All that shit she gave you? I mean, she pretty much terrorized you, Yn, and I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
You wondered—no, you knew—he was probably beating himself up inside for the argument the two of you had, too. The combined force of all of those tough conversations, as well as the pressure from the play… “I’m okay, Jae,” you reassured him. This time, you even believed what you said. “I’m shaken, no doubt, but it’s something that will pass with time.”
In this lighting, he was beautiful, ethereal. The amber streetlight casted a heavenly glow upon him, and made his eyes glimmer like the moon off a still body of water. You’d written something like that description somewhere in the original script, and you realized just how intimately you’d projected your reality into the lines of that production. Perhaps one day, you’d have the strength to point them all out to him.
A thought suddenly occurred to you in the silence, and your eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Oh my god.”
“What? What’s wrong—”
“I never got to see your finalized capstone project!” You gasped, your hands flying to your mouth in scandal. “Shit, the showcase for it was yesterday, wasn’t it? Oh shit, I’m awful—” For as supportive as Hyunjae had been with your final project, you had neglected to even think about his thesis these last weeks. Guilt coursed through your body in waves and you wanted to screech—
“Hey, honey,” he chuckled good-naturedly, “it’s okay. You were busy; don’t sweat it.” He bit his lip again, but it did nothing to suppress the shit-eating grin on his face. “Wanna go see it now? I’m sure they haven’t cleaned everything up yet.”
Your heart skipped for a new reason now. “You’re gonna break into the architecture building?” You laughed.
“It’s not breaking and entering if you have access,” he said in a “duh” tone, waving around his student ID.
As the two of you made a swift reverse back up the stairs from which you’d come from, you gaped at his ID card in disbelief. “I can’t believe they gave you clearance.”
He wrinkled his nose at you. “Why wouldn’t they grant their top student clearance on his last week?” He sniffed jokingly.
The pairing of dialogue and execution made a giggle sputter out of you, the sound making Hyunjae’s chest feel warm and fuzzy. He hated the tension that had wrapped itself around the bones of his ribcage, but those vines were slowly loosening and blooming into something familiar, and yet new.
The trek to the architecture building was well-worn by both you and him. You hadn’t been by the architecture building in awhile because of your busy schedule, but you used to always pop by to either walk him to lecture or to come visit him while he was working. The building was built in a Greco-Roman style with columns and arches, and beautifully carved marble murals and statues around the perimeter of the roof. You knew that the building style in particular was never Hyunjae’s taste, but you remembered when the two of you had toured the school in your senior year of high school, he had been awestruck nonetheless.
Just as he had said it would, his ID card slid against the panel outside the front doors to the architecture building and came up green.
The two of you, feeling just like you were kids again, giggled as you crept into the darkness of the foyer. Hyunjae grabbed your hand without thinking and dragged you down the right hallway toward one of the larger conference-style classrooms on the ground floor. He didn’t bother turning on any lights in case security came by and saw, but there was a conveniently-placed streetlight right outside the window anyway.
“There’s my masterpiece,” he said quietly, a sort of jitteriness coming through his voice.
You let go of his hand so you could inspect the model he constructed. The feature piece seemed to be the massive clear dome on the top, as well as the smaller, surrounding establishments. “It’s amazing, Jae. This is so cool.”
He almost looked shy as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest and watched you. “Ah, thanks. It’s, uh, a proposed model for a new performing arts department.”
Your head turned to him then. “No way.”
“Yes way,” he smiled. “I don’t know if it’ll get taken up by the board or not, but I gave them my whole spiel yesterday.”
“You’re gonna give me the spiel, too, right?”
Hyunjae made a face, feigning reluctance, but you were already dragging one of the chairs over so you could sit for his little presentation. “I mean, I guess I remember enough to do it again.” He took up his rightful place right next to his model, in front you, and cleared his throat to give you his speech.
The speech went wonderfully; you cheered as quietly loud as you possibly could. Your face was split by a bright smile that you were sure was enough to power the lights in this building if you really wanted to. If the board didn’t take up Hyunjae’s proposed new model after that, then you were about to send a strongly worded letter to the dean.
Hyunjae took on a boyish sort of smile after the moment had come and gone. “Hey, you wanna see something cool?”
“Cooler than this?”
“Pfft,” he dismissed nonchalantly, “you flatter me. But yeah, actually. Come on—it’s on the second floor.”
You quickly shoved your chair back into place and followed Hyunjae as he practically ran out of the room and up the stairs to the second floor. He had far too much energy for it being around ten o’clock at night, but when you saw the absolute glow on his face when he took you from project to project, gushing and nerding out about all the clever designs, you didn’t have the energy to even question his energy. There was something utterly contagious about hearing him talk about his major with such passion; you were so glad he had found a home in this field.
When the two of you finally let yourselves out of the architecture building, it was probably around an hour later. Your body ached with exhaustion, but your brain was abuzz with activity. You had missed this, missed him so much. For the first time in a very long time, you had never felt this carefree before.
“Can you believe we’re actually graduating tomorrow?” You asked him as the two of you walked toward the direction of the street your town house was on.
Hyunjae snorted. “No, not at all,” he said with a shake of his head. “Well, I’m actually so glad that I’m finally getting out of here, but it’s kind of scary, too.”
You gave a nod, then tilted your head back to breathe in the comfortable, night air. There were stars up in the sky tonight. “Yeah, I get that. Like, where will we all be, y’know?”
“Right.”
“But I think that the unknown in general will always be scary,” you added. “In the end, we’ll always know that everything will turn out okay.”
“And if it’s not okay, then it isn’t the end yet,” Hyunjae replied with a pointed look.
“Exactly.” You had a few options lined up for you after graduation, but you’d told yourself beforehand that you would deal with all of that after commencement day. After months and years of working nonstop, you deserved a little rest before fully stepping into the adult world. Wow, what a scary thought, indeed. "I'm proud of you, Hyunjae."
He had to stop himself from breaking down right there. "I'm proud of you, too, Yn."
The walk home was quiet, but it was as if a layer of film had been laid over just you and Hyunjae. The white noise of the night became somewhat calming for you, and you felt yourself sinking into a state of serenity. You had confessed your love for him already—he finally knew how you felt—but funny enough, that was freeing.
That had been your biggest secret, and finally being able to lift that burden from your chest was… it was good. Everything was good now.
Hyunjae softly said, "I know that you probably have so much to do after graduation tomorrow, but we've always wanted to go on a road trip cross-country."
When you looked up over at him, he could read the excitement glittering in your irises. "You're right! Man, that conversation was so long ago. I mean… I won't be so busy after graduation, not immediately. I want time to enjoy freedom with you," you laughed, lightly punching his shoulder.
He chuckled, your words soaking into his skin like sunlight on the first warm day after a harsh winter season. "I think it'd be nice, just the two of us." He couldn't wait.
There was an earnestness in the way you looked at him then. His thoughts had been all over the place before, but now, they were beginning to clear. "I think that'd be nice, too."
Your townhouse was now in sight, and a distinct feeling of anxiety rose in his throat. It was bitter-tasting, the way he dreaded leaving you for the night even if he would most definitely see you again tomorrow. He didn't know why inviting himself in like he usually did was so difficult now, but suddenly, you were both standing in the middle of the entryway and you were getting your keys from your bag.
It was late; he shouldn't keep you up. You'd had a long day.
"—you tomorrow then. Thanks for tonight, Jae."
He wrapped his arms around you just as you hugged him, his face pressed against the crown of your head and yours pressed into his shoulder. He didn't want to let go, but it was late—
"Good night," he said, nearly inaudibly.
"'Night," you said, going into the house and closing the door.
Maybe it was the physical, literal visual of you closing the door on him, but the epiphany hit him like a bus.
EPISODE FOURTEEN: AAAND THAT'S A WRAP!
YOU were about five steps from dropping to the floor and sleeping for about five years. Of course, you could not do that because you literally had to wake up to graduate tomorrow, but right this moment, you were so excited to just face plant into your pillow.
Tap!
The first time, you hadn't even heard the tiny noise as you shuffled into your attic bedroom and set your bag on the floor at the foot of your bed.
TAP!
Actually, you hadn't even heard it the second time—
BONK!
"What the…" Your head whirled around toward the window. You could have sworn you heard something hit the window pane. Cautiously, you walked up to the glass and peered out into the darkened street. It was a little difficult to see given the contrast between the light of your bedroom, the dark of night, and the fogging acrylic pane—
You nearly screeched as a small pebbled hit the window, right where your face would have been. What the fuck—?
Immediately, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Could this have been Ellie trying to spook you again? No way, right? Plus, wasn't Hyunjae just walking by?...
Oh, wait.
With a huff of indignation, you wrestled with the latch on the window pane just as another tiny rock came flying at the glass. "Hold your horses," you muttered, finally managing to haul the dusty window up. You only ever really opened this window during the warmer months, and so you hadn't used it since probably late fall quarter.
You stuck your head out the window, and surprise surprise, Hyunjae was tossing another piece of ammo up and down in his palm, down at street level. "What is wrong with you?" You stage whispered.
His mouth curved into a frown, head tilting, eyebrows furrowing. "What?"
"What," you repeated firmer this time, "is wrong with you?"
"I needed to get your attention," he shrugged.
"You couldn't just text?"
"Isn't this what Romeo did?"
Clearly, someone hadn't been paying attention when you were studying for your classes on Shakespeare in both high school and second year of college. "No," you quipped, "and Romeo was stupid."
Hyunjae sighed, reaching up to cup the back of his neck, dropping the pebble in his hand to the ground. "Okay, so maybe I'm not some Romeo—" You weren't quite sure where he was going with this.
He started walking around, pacing the sidewalk in front of your townhouse since he couldn't stand directly below the window (your roommate would kill him if he killed her azaleas). For a moment, you were ready to go down there yourself and shake the words from him, but it seemed he was able to snap himself into focus.
"I just… it's taken me a long time—god, it always takes me a long time to come up with the words for this type of stuff," he stumbled over his words, and you felt yourself grow increasingly tender. He was never good at wearing his heart on his sleeve. "And my friends have been saying it this whole time—hell, I've probably been aware of it unconsciously this whole time, too! But you know how I am. I'm too damn stubborn to cave, even to myself."
You let him continue on without breaking his monologue. Though you couldn't be too sure what this was, your heart still galloped in hope.
"Yn, I'm—" he said, head tilting back to meet your eyes so you could see those beautiful irises of his, "—I'm in love with you, too."
This was really happening, huh? Your fingers curled around the window sill and you opened your mouth in an effort to say something, but then you closed it. The words and the thoughts were there, but it was so foggy in your mind that you couldn't even string the words together yourself either.
You watched the hope, the light, gradually fade from his expression, even if he wasn't actively trying to show it. "Please tell me to go home if you're not gonna say anything," he said to you next. "I know you're tired, but god, I just stood here and realized I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't tell you. I know it's selfish, but…" He lifted his hands in sort of a helpless gesture, his hands then falling limp at his sides.
Finally, you found your voice. You cleared your throat, then asked quietly, albeit a tad nervously, "This—this isn't just because you feel bad about what I said about not reciprocating, right? I mean, higher levels of excitement and arousal can be misattributed to feelings sometimes—"
Hyunjae shook his head. "Dear god, no. I've just been… I've just been really stupid, so, uhm, maybe I am like Romeo?"
You fought the smile on your face, but it seemed you lost the battle. "Silly goose," you teased, laughing as you shook your head. "You ain't no Romeo, Lee Jaehyun, but I've never wanted anyone but you anyway."
He broke into a laugh at that, the sound echoing in the streets, and it sounded like, if one could bottle up pure delight and release it to the world. "You're so much better at this than me."
"Clearly."
"Well," he bit his lip, his smile impish, "can I kiss you to make up for it?"
Oh, there went your heart—there it went, carrying you down the stairs and out the door—you would have leapt out the window if you were physically able (you weren't). Your heart carried you all the way outside again until you arrived in your best friend's arms, his face, his smile illuminated in the soft glow of the streetlight.
And he held you so tight, you couldn't tell if that beating at your chest was his heart or yours. The two of you wasted no time in pressing your mouths to the other, tasting the other's smile in one more way than you'd ever done before.
It felt, at that moment, that this might have marked act three of one part of your life—but act one of the next was just beginning.
Perhaps it was true then: when it counted, you always went back to your first love.
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a/n: heyy thank you for reading thru!! i hope u enjoyed and if u did, pls do consider commenting, reblogging, or sending an ask :] we do love a bit of humility in the end ayo :3 the original plan is to go for sunwoo's next o7
permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @mingiholic @ethereal-engene @ja4hyvn @vatterie @yogurteume @justalildumpling @hyunjaespresent-deobi @hongyangi @pxppxrminty @nerdypastacalzonespy @zhaixiaowen @wtfhyuck @jcmdoll @kflixnet
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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year
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obey me demon brothers on road trip
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is this original? not even a little bit. but your girl is Burnt Out by life rn and resisting the urge to bury herself in a hole and not emerge for a couple weeks. take this humble offering as a STILL avoid working on requests because i am a menace who deserves to be prodded w a dirty stick
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prompt: diavolo's got a fun trip planned. he's invited everyone to meet him on some obscure little beach across the devildom. only issue? it's not accessible by portal-- something or other about the wildlife, barbatos explains. guess that means everyone has to pile in for a long drive. the demon brothers in one car, the purgatory hall group accompanying diavolo and barbatos in the other... what could go wrong?
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Lucifer
lucifer drives. there is no debate here on that.
he's got the gps screen in front of him at all times because there's nothing worse for his pride than getting lost and having to... hell forbid... ask for directions.
he controls the music, no exceptions. there is a premade (and preapproved) spotify playlist playing at a decent volume for everyone's listening pleasure. inevitably someone will add something stupid to the playlist (mammon keeps adding yung gravy, asmo added deepthroat inappropriate music, belphie kept adding audiobook recordings of paradise lost) and then lucifer gets pissed off and switches to the radio.
he has a strict stopping schedule for meals and bathroom breaks to ensure they get there on time, with extra time padding for when the plan inevitably goes to shit and they get to their destination four hours later than planned.
Leviathan
levi is sitting in the passenger seat for the drive. lucifer has determined him to be the least annoying for the entirety of the trip, so he sits in the front.
honestly? smart choice. levi spends most of his time curled up with a video game or 10 in silence. he appreciates the space of the passenger seat to spread out and keep his valuables close by. it's quieter up front as well, so he doesn't get overstimulated.
officially restricted to one cupholder. give him an inch and he'll take a mile spreading all of his shit across the car.
the grandmaster of chargers for the car ride. granted, most of them are his for his various consoles, but when mammon inevitably hops in the car with his D.D.D. at 12% battery, levi's the one that gets him a charger.
Asmodeus
asmo is in the second row, seated directly behind lucifer. this spot would have gone to belphie had lucifer not thought about the youngest kicking his seat during the drive just to be a pain.
the seats in the middle are standalone seats with an open aisle. this is good because asmo has spread himself dramatically across his seat and into the aisle.
after mammon, he's the one that gets most bored on the trip. cell service is spotty the entire drive, so his connection isn't good enough to spend the whole time on social media. he's brought a couple of magazines, too, but he gets motion sick if he reads too much in the car.
he eventually falls asleep at an awkward angle. saving grace for everyone else, seeing as they don't have to hear him whine in the car, but when he wakes up with a sore neck and a bad attitude...
Belphegor
belphie's seat is behind levi in the second row. he's banished to this spot so he can't kick lucifer, but also kept close by because everyone knows he'll quietly sleep the trip away anyways.
ideally, he'd pass out right away. but car naps have always proved tricky for him. if he sleeps normally, his head will fall forward and wake him up. he'd love to spread out, but asmo's legs are taking up too much of the aisle. if he leans his seat back, he has to hear mammon bitch and run the risk of getting scolded by lucifer. what's a demon to do?
his solution is to tie his head to the headrest. no, literally.
he takes off his jacket (cardigan? idk what that shit is) and ties it like a blindfold around his eyes. this way, his head won't flop forward and wake him up. oh, reader? does that sound like sensory hell to you? well, i agree. unfortunately for us, belphie passes out right away and sleeps like a corpse in this horrid arrangement the entire ride.
Satan
satan is seated behind asmo on the far left side of the back row. lucifer ensured he stayed in the back row to ensure his own sanity, so that satan wouldn't have the chance to fuck with him as he's driving.
satan hates this arrangement. it's hard to read when you're trapped in the back with beelzebub, who's constantly eating, and mammon, who's constantly bitching. he's moments away from blowing a fuse.
he tries to convince both belphie and asmo to trade spots with him, but neither of them are willing to give up their coveted middle seats, so he gives up.
his best solution is to wear noise cancelling headphones (asmo's suggestion) and bury his head in a book. but if beel elbows him one more time....
Beelzebub
beelzebub is in the middle of the back row. his aisle spot is earned by his size (he needs more leg room) and his penchant for snacking, which is what clutters the ground around asmo and belphie's outstretched legs.
he's pretty content to spend most of the drive snacking and looking out the windows. sure, it's a little cramped, but beel's pretty agreeable when he's fed.
he might doze off a little, but he's so big that when he inevitably slumps on to one of his brothers, they wake him up yelling and complaining.
he will try to talk his way into getting more snacks at every stop. and he usually wins, too, because he's finished everything in the car by that point.
Mammon
mammon is tucked into the back right corner seat behind belphie. this is because he has a knack for pissing lucifer off and nobody wants the car to crash before they even start vacation. shoving him in the back corner is an attempt to make everyone's ride more peaceful.
he spends most of his time on his phone. he cycles through every mobile game you've ever heard off, their knockoffs, and the knockoffs of the knockoffs. mans can't keep himself entertained.
the worst about bathroom breaks. he a) always needs to stop to pee and b) doesn't mention this until he's about to piss himself. it's like having a toddler i swear. and he dilly dallys through wherever they stop. visitor center? he's trying to jiggle the vending machine for free snacks. fast food place? he's trying to convince lucifer to buy him something. gas station? come on lucifer, he needs these gummy worms--!
eventually, mammon just sort of rests his head on the window and lets the bumps in the road turn his brain to soup. can't be bored if you can't think!
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cuephrase · 9 days
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Are there any individual issues/short sections of the Tom Taylor Nightwing run you'd say are still worth checking out as little standalone/self contained things? I've read and enjoyed the 2021 annual (blood brothers) after seeing enough about it on tumblr but don't know much about the rest, and you've mention individual issues in other rec posts so it got me curious (and it's completely fine if you don't think you can recommend any).
asking me to be nice about TT?! *sighs* turns out i can be, actually, but um. only a little.
i'll preface all of this by saying, if you're interested in reading his run, you should. other people disliking a run is like...idk if this is going to make sense, but it's kind of like knowing the weather. you'll be like "hey, there's rain" and then you can either a) choose not to go outside, b) grab a coat and umbrella, or c) pull on a swimsuit and go dance. no wrong choices! maybe you get outside and it's more of alight drizzle, or maybe it's basically a tropical storm and you book it back inside and start batting down the hatches.
i could present you with people who's overall taste in comics i agree with who hate and love this run- actually, i was super hyped to read this run bc most of the people i'd talked to were like "OMG ITS SOOOO GOOD!!" and i was like "OKAY!!!" and then i was like 😗👉👈 maybe idk what good comics are?? (baby comic-reading cue felt wayyyy to new to the genre to trust their own opinions lmao. we're mostly past that now.)
but okay!! to answer your question: so post issue #91 is where my overall enjoyment of the run went like *imitates plane falling and crashing noises*. which. upon skimming from 78 to 91, i don't think i can say i was loving it that whole time, more like my tolerance threshold maxed out around there. bc uh. skimming i was like...yikes. i've also read way more Nightwing comics since, so like that could be factor.
ANYWAYS. me being nice:
#80 has some decent dick and tim!
#89 opens with a nice batman/superman/nightwing story, honestly can't remember if i liked the two-issue mini, but i'm going to guess i didn't bc even though i just looked i recall ✨nothing✨
#90-91 is a fun dick and wally adventure, if i remember correctly???? wally stans don't shoot me, i haven't read a whole lot of him idk if he's written well here i'm sorry
#111-112 is decent. it's not like. groundbreaking. but yk. maybe i just liked it more than the stupid pirate arc and maybe my standards are low and Good Dad Bruce is a weak spot, IDK
ummmm past that?
i like this page from #79
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this panel is from #83 if you want to like see it with your own eyes on page.
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the Hug is in issue #100, which is a bigger to celebrate 100 issues, and it happens later, i think it's the third story? some people love that scene, others can't stand it, i am a whore for soft batfam moments so it's very precious to me, and also nice moments make bad ones hurt more what?
if you like dickbabs you might enjoy more issues too, i was neutral about dickbabs and this run made me...not neutral. but i've heard from people that do like dickbabs that they don't like how they're written here so also, maybe you won't like it even if you like dickbabs??
but yeah!! these are my not-hated TT nightwing issues. i think there are a decent amount where i liked a line or panel here or there, but like overall most of it is just...not my fave. but you could like it!! which, i feel like it's worth saying that it's totally valid if you end up engaging with the run more and liking it. you wouldn't be the only person in the world to like it. but it's also ending in 4 issues thank god, so um don't get too attached if you end up digging it lmao
the red hood annual is also the annual i've liked for this run, i actually love that issue sm lol. the second annual is all about the Lamest Most Scariest Villain Ever, boring, and then the most recent was all about bea, dick's love interest in his ric era, which i was excited for...and hated. that one isn't even on TT, tho. travis moore your gorgeous dick is not enough to redeem you on that one. WAIT I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT-
thanks for the ask anon!! always good to practice loving your enemies i mean, i hope this helps, have fun <3
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themyscirah · 23 days
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Still can't believe they picked Earth One as the Wonder Woman story for the new $10 compact comics line. Like that's what we're going with? Firmly believe they should have just picked the Hikateia for that one and been done with it. Or if they thought it wasn't long enough, maybe find a way to double up the Hikateia + A League of One and market it as Wonder Woman vs. The Justice League somehow. With either of those they'd also be able to market off the presence of other heroes in the story/possibly on the cover if they keep the old ones while still putting forward some of their best standalone Wonder Woman stories that are like. Actually good. And also representative of ww lore and mythos in universe. And even if they couldn't find a way to do both stories I suggested in one volume and wanted to do both then just release two and make them each slightly cheaper. You'd probably even make more money that way
Also bothered a bit less by this one but All-Star Superman as their Superman pick also wasn't to my liking too much. I know it's a favorite that gets a lot of buzz so it makes sense why they picked it but I found it a bit strange and confusing when i read it, and think that something like Birthright or Superman for all Seasons would be a better choice, especially if geared more towards a general audience. Like I guess they wanted to do something different than an origin story which makes sense, but I can't help but feel in 80 years of work they could have found something less confusing but idk. I'm not a Superman expert, I've never sat down and read any of his outgoings outside of 1 or 2 recommended issues so I'm sure there are picks or factors I'm not considering here but idk
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thevividgreenmoss · 2 months
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I had a couple of friends (my only two friends really lol which two is far far above my historical average for friends, one is above the historical average if we're being Real) over last night to see the movie I made with my cats/co-directors and I made little tickets/keepsakes for both of them lol
Since the first short I randomly slapped together back in January which eventually ended up being incorporated into what this ended up being I liked the idea of keeping this as something I primarily just directly share with people in my own living room, like the only reason I initially put this shit online anywhere is to have an easy way to share it on here with you all in case it's of interest to anyone lol but idk like there's no way to make even five dollars off of this since I don't have the rights to any of the music playing in the background and huge chunks of certain songs/albums are in the shit lmao like almost half an hour of D'Angelo - Voodoo lmfao but like. it cost me literally nothing to make this, I shot the entire thing on my phone and cut it together on my laptop using open source software so there isn't even any cost to recoup so why not include the music I was already listening to ig and past that just share it with directly with anyone that's willing to sit through it
Back in May I was talking to one of my neighbors who is also one of the neighborhood plugs who also raps a little bit just for the fuck of it "I dont make money off music, I'm a trapper for real" (slightly paraphrased it was almost a year ago at this point), but I actually fuck with his music and listened to it of my own volition after he initially directly played a track for me and our other neighbor and the other day I was over to reup and was like 1) I made a movie off your product so truly thank you cause this doesnt happen otherwise and 2) if you check it out and anything jumps out at you we can work on a music video along those lines if you're down which who knows if we'll do that but personally I'd love to. Then he asked me why I haven't been fasting lmao, remembering that I also didn't fast last year. And that led to talking about god and history and america and the whites. He was telling me a bit about another Pakistani guy that buys from him, showed me a picture of the dude, standing with (presumably although I can't say for sure) his father and grandfather.
The picture he showed me, everything he said has been stuck in my head since. The three smiling desi faces, if I had to guess either fellow Kashmiris if not that maybe Pathaan, but especially the old man's face recalling of course my nana's. I wish I could've made a movie in Lahore with him. I do want to make one with my mom, I was thinking of incorporating clips of a walk around the creek at my parent's neighborhood with her into this video but I ended up going a different direction but I do think it could be worth it's own standalone piece. But I do want to do more of these and the process by which it came together is definitely something accessible to everyone like everyone can do this I feel, if anyone wants. But I personally do want to make one with my mom if she's down.
A few days before that aforementioned day in late May I read Prince's unfinished autobiography and among a million things in there that I have not been able to stop seeing or thinking of was what? The way he opened the first chapter with the image of his mother's eyes - the first thing 👁 saw.
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almightyhamslice · 6 months
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KDL3 Stage 1-1: Tulip's stage!
I'm approaching these with a similar format to my KDL2 posts, except divided by stage rather than level since each stage is very unique in KDL3. This also means this is going to take me forever LOL. In terms of standalone ability drawings, each one will contain Kirby AND Gooey, since they have the same movesets. They're only placed next to each other for comparison though since like I said they can't BOTH wear the necklace at the same time. So far I think Gooey likes Spark the best!
This level has Rick and Nago, but I never used Rick since it was too risky-- too much of a chance of him accidentally stepping on the flowers!! Nago is preferential since he has 3 jumps. I would NEVER take Gooey here unless I was playing w 2 players though. His CPU is SO bad lmao (worse than any Helper in the original Super Star if you can imagine). That's how it is for the entire game quite frankly, but I REALLY like the idea of Kirby and Gooey going on the whole adventure together, so I'm pretending I did this whole thing with 2 people LOL.
I can tell you a little more about Nago since this post is very Nago centric! He's 19 years old and is honestly a completely normal guy... other than being able to turn into a giant cat anyways LOL. He can't use copy abilities for himself, but he's very crafty. He likes to help Kirby come up with new methods and angles to use his abilities. He has some difficulties befriending the other animal friends since he feels like he can't relate to them, so for now he's only friends with Kirby and Rick. He doesn't like when Kirby chooses to hang out with other friends over him. I guess that makes him n Rick more alike than I realized LOL. He is prone to expressing his emotions in catlike ways since he's a werecat.
I don't have much to say about this level's resident character, Tulip. She's a flower nymph, and she has 4... kids? counterparts? I don't know what they are to her. None of them transform, and the little flowers don't talk or anything, they just have eyes. Though, they can move underground by tunneling I think. Only between areas without grass though! They're very particular.
Ramblings abt Nago and calico cats in general under the cut since I have a special interest in cats and genetics:
So if you were unaware, calico cats (and tortoiseshell cats) are almost always female IRL! Thsi is because 'red' (orange) and black fur colors are both linked to the x chromosome, so a cat can only have 1 of those 2 per x chromosome. If the cat has only 1 x chromosome, it can only be red or black, never both. So this means that even though he's a male character, Nago must have 2 x chromosomes for his coat color to make sense. I think one could interpret him as transmasc, intersex, or they could say he has Klinefelter syndrome or some other chromosomal condition? So I chose to depict him as transmasc in my gijinka AU since I'm transmasc and he was my favorite animal friend when I was a kid!!
Did the designers working on KDL3 intend for him to be trans? Probably not, I think it was just an oversight. They wanted a funny cat character and calico is a very cute and popular color for cats! Though idk it is possible he was intentionally transgender since Kirby's probably like, the queerest popular nintendo mascot I can think of?? If he's gender neutral is it that farfetched for Nago to be trans or intersex? I don't know, I'm not his original designer.
Anyways another funny fact abt cats that Nago's designers might've known-- cats squint/close their eyes as a sign of trust in others! So Nago's eyes are usually shut because he's showing Kirby that he can trust him! (yes that means he's VERY upset when Kirby uses the needle ability or switches to a different animal friend cuz his eyes widen. TBF, if my friend was shooting chunks out of his face and turning them into needles, I'd be pretty distressed too LOL). I really like this detail cuz it means at least one person on the design team rlly rlly loved cats lol.
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trilobi-te · 10 months
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Cider expressions without the visor (in practice he'd still be wearing it in these situations so pretend it's invisible here or something idk). Why did I decide to draw a Cider conglomeration including several accursed Dandies? I was bored I guess. I don't even know what this is lmao
Also I named the expressions plus an update on archiving the Chipspeeech twitter content (below the cut)
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I like how half the Chipspeech artists out there decided that Dandy has Phoenix Wright hair
That "Something went wrong. Try reloading." message is the bane of my existence right now. I am so close to being done with copying down everything from the chip twitters but I have to stop every few minutes due to the site continuously freaking out. Also why do Dee, Bert, and Dandy have so many tweets ffs.
On the topic of the archive thing I'm still deciding whether to make a website for it or just an extremely long PDF. For the sake of readability, navigation, etc. a site would obviously be better but all of the free hosting services seem to be either limited in size or when it's online. Maybe I can just make a bunch of little sites and link them to each other. I can use CSS but I am severely lacking in the graphic design department so a potential site would probably be.. less than beautiful. In order to avoid ugliness and save space things usually end up rather sparse. At least I could set up navigation though.
Also none of my ideas on how to make threads (and the standalone tweets that were made chronologically in the middle of them) readable are so great but I think that has more to do with the fact that they weren't readable on twitter in the first place. Twitter is a mess.
The main argument for just making a PDF is that it'd be so much faster, though the fact that it'd be several hundred pages long without any navigation other than ctrl+f is a giant drawback. All of the time I've had to spend on Twitter for this has made me very passionate about navigation. Have I mentioned how much I hate twitter navigation. I'm a n g y
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findyourrp · 5 months
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Hi hi hi! My name is Danny and I'm a 19 year old semi-lit to literate writer looking for roleplay partners for the following fandoms (full fandom names included for convenience)
💜💚
Lego Monkie Kid
Characters: I main MK but I can also play Tang and Sandy if needed.
Plot/prompts: hurt/comfort would be my go-to for this fandom especially with me as Mk and my partner as Wukong. It WILL be angst filled 100%
Romance: Spicynoodles, Shadowpeach, and Freenoodles are my favorites. I won't do any other ships. Romance is not necessary though.
NSFW??: No. Very unlikely. I can be persuaded on this but most likely no.
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Trolls
Characters: I would really only be playing my Oc but I guess I could TRY the canon characters
Plot/prompts: Honestly it'll mostly be fluff because I literally only want my oc to be friends with the canon characters. Almost any canon character will do. A little bit of angst may be included though.
Romance: Not likely. I guess it could happen but idk with who and I don't really care.
NSFW??: No. Not ever with this one. You cannot convince me.
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Rise Of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Characters: I main Donnie but I can also play the other turtles and Casey Jr.
Plot/prompts: Very very heavy angst and hurt/comfort. I also wanna do my monster AU that I will tell you about later.
Romance: No Not even a little. Unless it's Caprisun...
NSFW??: Ew no. Don't even think about it.
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Warrior Cats
Characters: All ocs. No canon characters. None.
Plot/prompts: We'll make this shit up as we go. Fuck it, we ball. Most likely angst and gore though.
Romance: Idk maybe if I'm feline like it.
NSFW??: Dear God NO. NOT EVEN A LITTLE.
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Infinity Train
Characters: I actually wanna do a crossover rp with any one of the characters from the above mentioned fandoms.
Plot/prompts: Drop a character from a random fandom onto the train and let chaos unravel.
Romance: Idk it depends
NSFW??: Most likely not but again it depends.
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OCs
Characters: Our ocs obviously. I have standalone ocs or ocs from various fandoms.
Plot/prompts: We'll discuss that later depending on what ocs we pick.
Romance: Depends
NSFW??: Debatable.
💅✨️
.
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hamartia-grander · 1 year
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okay so I keep seeing people say that Connor’s choice to either become deviant/remain machine is the biggest choice in the game but it occurred to me earlier that it’s actually completely dependent on Markus?
bc during Crossroads Connor’s conversation with Markus can boost his software instability if it’s too low to unlock the deviant option (side note: I don’t know if Connor’s conversation with North does the same? because you can’t choose her dialogue?) but ALSO in Night of the Soul if Markus shoots Connor that’s it he’s a machine again no more deviant Connor. So really Connor doesn’t have much of a choice at all
does this make sense at all?? idk (hope you’re having a good day! <3)
(I'm doing alright, thank you! <3)
And yes you're definitely right. I mean, of course, there's instances where no matter how much Markus boosts Connor's SI, he still can't deviate, but yes your point stands, and the same is with North, where everything she says raises Connor's SI. In both situations, if Connor does/says something machine like, his software instability goes down, but no matter what Markus or North say, it positively influences his SI. And yeah, if Markus shoots Connor in NotS, Connor comes back as a machine no matter what.
Connor's status as a machine or as a deviant is entirely dependent on other characters/the environment he's in. Sure, he can make choices that affect whether or not his Software Instability goes up or down, but those choices wouldn't be possible on his own. For example, he couldn't choose saving Hank over chasing Rupert if Hank wasn't there in the first place as someone who Connor could respect and regard. Connor wouldn't have been able to choose to spare the TRACIs if Echo hadn't explained to him why she'd killed the man in the first place. He wouldn't be able to spare Chloe if Kamski hadn't put the idea in his mind that she's living, if Hank hadn't called her a "nice girl", etc. etc. These things influence or trigger his empathy, and if he acts on them, it raises his instability. He wouldn't be able to do so on his own.
It's crazy to me that people actually believe his story could be standalone, or that he's somehow more important than Markus, the literal driver of the story. That anyone could think Connor's choice to remain machine or become a deviant is the "biggest choice" in the game is quite mind blowing to me. The biggest choice in the game is whether or not Markus chooses a Demonstration or a Revolution. That is the single most impactful choice in the game, the most influential choice, and the only choice that decides what kind of ending you get for every single character left. Connor's fate is irrelevant, because Markus can succeed without him. Markus can defeat him. The only thing Connor adds to the story is a different perspective to the journey to deviancy, as we see him from "birth" to "awakening".
I guess my point is, yes, you're right that Connor's choice to remain a machine or become deviant is heavily influenced by Markus - but also, it couldn't possibly be the biggest choice in the game, because his choice only affects his own fate, and at worst gives Markus an obstacle to overcome. It's silly to me that anyone would think that. Markus's decision for how they go about winning their freedom, however, is the only choice that impacts everyone, making that the biggest choice in the game.
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peonyblossom · 9 months
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i finished reading Immortal Desires and the ending felt kind of... blah? like idk it just wasn't super satisfying i guess
spoilers below the cut
I think it's because MC becoming a vampire feels like it could/should be a whole inciting incident in and of itself but it's just... the end? That feels like that start of a story, not the end of one, you know?
The story's good, it's just that the ending fell a little short in my opinion. I'm kind of surprised it was supposed to be a standalone with an ending like that, I can see why people complained lol.
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