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takeyourcyanide · 4 months

Text

Woeful

AO3

I would just like to say that I think this may or may not have gone completely off the rails. But that’s fine. Because so does Soul Eater. I have also never written smut before in my life, so I hope it’s not a complete dumpster fire! I think it started out fine, and then just plummeted and diverged haha. We’ll see. This is a very experimental fic for me. This might’ve ended up out of character. Whoopsies.

CWs: Porn, implied emotional manipulation and neglect, jealousy issues on both Stein and Kami’s end, internalized misogyny (a little) on Kami’s end, mentions of Stein’s experimenting on Spirit, infidelity, underage alcoholism, teen pregnancy, consensual underage sex, slight physical abuse (?) near the end, toxic relationships

Fandom: Soul Eater

Character(s): Spirit Albarn, Kami (Maka’s mother), Franken Stein, brief mentions of Marie Mjolnir and Joe Buttataki

Word count: 10 192

Tags: hurt/comfort, underage drinking, porn with plot, men crying, verbal humiliation, teen romance, teen angst, teen pregnancy, drinking to cope, angst and porn, praise kink, sadism, masochism, emotional manipulation, resolved sexual tension, infidelity, slapping (Kami slaps Spirit), sexual content, not beta read, etc.

Summary: Kami tells Spirit that she’s pregnant. There’s another thing that she’s also been keeping from him, however, that sends him spiraling into drinking and infidelity with his ex-partner.

Notes: I began with the idea that I’d explore teen pregnancy and its effects on teenagers, Spirit and Kami in this case, as well as how their immaturity, irresponsibility, and vices might effect them during such a trying time. This may or may not have became something entirely different. Oops. It’s a bit of everything, from toxic relationships to alcoholism. So, here, hope you like over 10k words of pure angst. And smut. I made Spirit extremely pathetic in this one. I simultaneously hate this and love it. It’s horrible. LMAOOO. I can never stick to one goddamn thing because I’m tangential. It’s everything. I really need to learn how to. But I’ve written over ten thousand words and I’m not putting that to waste.

Spirit gripped the edges of Kami’s marble countertop with a fervor he was not aware that he possessed; his knuckles just as white as the petals of a daisy, his fingertips vermillion. As he stared down into the sink, not daring to face himself in the bathroom mirror, he forced the bile rising in his throat back down, a stirring cocktail of trepidation, consternation, excitement, joy, shame, and grief falling upon him all at once.

“Spirit… I’m pregnant,” the words screamed repeatedly within the confines of his shaken skull, the perturbation in his lover’s voice still just as apparent as it had been mere moments ago.

He had given his whole life away for the sake of one night of pleasure and passion. Or multiple nights. There was no telling when and where the growing fetus was conceived if he was being entirely honest with himself.

Albarn threw his head back and forth, a repetitive motion, as his nose scrunched, his eyebrows furrowing in terror. His mouth opened and closed, searching for anything at all to respond with.

“Ar… Are you sure?” He began, lifting his slouched figure from the cool and comforting, sturdy rigidity of the counter, looking Kami up and down, his eyes scanning each and every atom surrounding him, panicking. “I mean - how many tests did you take?!”

“Four! I took four, Spirit! Four different pregnancy tests!” She shook her own head in mild disbelief, as though it was completely inconceivable that the results flashed before her eyes on the stick could ever be potentially false. “And they all said ‘positive’!” Kami slapped her hands together, her eyes bugging out of her head, her lips pursed.

“Fuck,” Spirit ran a stressed hand through his crimson hair, deeply swallowing whatever so much as desired to escape from his mouth.

“So, what? You’re not gonna run away and become a deadbeat, are you?” Her voice trembled, her lips quivering, as she forced down the welling and unwelcome tears.

“Death, no! No, no, no, Kami… I know I’m an asshole, but come on,” the scythe rushed over to her, gripping her shoulders, a more sympathetic expression on his countenance than before. “I’d never do that, I promise you. I will love you and this baby, it’s just… Shit…”

“I know, we’re both young..”

“Young and fucking stupid, clearly! We’re seventeen, Kami!” He released a troubled and disquieted chuckle. “I thought you were on birth control?!”

“I lied…”

Her flushed, timorous face left him reeling, as the revelation of the very fact that yet another person he put all of his trust into demonstrably lied to him smacked him upside his gullible, naive head.

“Kami…” Spirit stood, stiff and still, as he simply stared at the meister with wide, alert, and betrayed eyes.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to do anything if I made you wear a condom, or something,” she rushed out in a frenzy, her tone bashful and ashamed, as one stray tear finally spilled.

“Are you kidding me?” His voice was hoarse, hushed. It was evident to anyone purely based upon his expression and shock-induced stupor how thrown for a loop he’d been. He could no longer raise his mortified and stunned voice, resorting to just staring continuously down at the bright tiles underneath him.

“I’m sorry… I know it was dumb, okay?” More and more tears bolted down her cheeks, her hands coming up to her swelling eyes, rubbing them in a harsh and disorganized manner.

Albarn raised his gaze to meet his lover’s, a sudden surge of guilt and empathy swirling inside of him, mixing with the rage and resentment he thought he’d never be able to feel towards Kami.

“Please don’t cry, I hate it when you cry… I want to be fucking mad at you, shit,” he suppressed the tears he felt creeping up on him, emerging from his eyes.

Spirit outstretched his arms, wrapping them around her shuddering form, Kami burying her sodden face into his chest, the thumping of his heart audible.

Listening to his heartbeat was typically something she found rather soothing, but with how rapidly it was banging against his sternum, it only served as a reminder of how monstrously she’d screwed up.

“It’s okay.. It’ll all be okay, baby,” he murmured, lips against her hair as he sappily kissed her. “We can do this..”

“You sure? Our lives just started, Spirit, are they already over?” Albarn placed the palm of his hand on her scalp, his lithe fingers gently scratching, as he mulled everything over, unable to process the newfound information.

“They’re not over.. And even if they are, it’s because a new one’s begun, right? Yeah?” Whether Spirit wanted to admit it or not, he was attempting to convince himself more so than Kami.

🥃

They had long since exited the incandescent bathroom, now both perched upon their leather sofa, entirely silent, all that was left unspoken speaking cacophonous volumes.

Spirit held a book in his hands, of which had been sitting on the side table for weeks, Kami’s tired head resting upon his shoulder, as he merely stared blankly at the words, poorly feigning focus, each and every letter blurring together and forming into one large amalgamation of ink, not even putting in the effort to turn a page once in a while.

Kami simply fiddled with her phone - too, pretending to be impressively engrossed by whatever social media she was scrolling endlessly through.

Neither of them spared so much as a curious glance at the other.

That is, until Kami tossed her cellphone to the side, the device delicately plopping on the cushion beside her.

“Spirit?” Her voice possessed a solemn and chilling timbre, as she spoke under her breath.

“What is it?” He shut his book, returning it to its former place on the side table, his full and undivided attention on his meister upon hearing the tone she quietly used, his own voice gravelly in a way that reflected his seething acrimony.

The sheer tension in the room could be cut with a knife… Or perhaps one of his former meister’s scalpels.

Speaking of which…

Should he tell him that they were having a baby?

“Should we get an abortion?” The scythe peered over at her, utterly taken aback despite the question not truly being unexpected, visage sincerely concerned and almost sorrowfully pained at the notion, his eyes large and hurt.

Kami shifted as to face her boyfriend, tilting her head off to the side in commiseration.

“I know… It’s not that I don’t want it, it’s more so that we’re not ready for a baby at all right now….”

Spirit released a melodramatically elongated and pensive exhale, his abdomen and his chest stuttering up and down.

“I get that.. You’re right, we’re not exactly ‘ready.’ This came way too soon. But I really wanna try, Kami. I think we’d be great parents, even despite… this,” he placed his palm on the top of her hand, languidly intertwining her fingers with his, as he gazed deep within her eyes, practically reading and analyzing every cavernous depth of her soul despite only being a weapon. “Don’t you want to try at the very least? Just try? And not to mention… Is anyone really ‘ready’ to raise another human being? Is there a right time? Don’t you want to-“

“Spirit, a child isn’t something you can just ‘try’ on-“

“A child is the least you can give me after what you did!” His fingers lost their grip on hers, as he shouted, his eyes narrow in pure, unbridled indignation. “You.. You dangle this shit in front of me as if you didn’t already know I wanted a baby one day!”

“Well, fuck, man, for one, you acted like you were ready to run off and join the circus earlier, and second of all, it’s my goddamn body, Spirit! I don’t owe you jack-shit! I’m not ‘dangling’ anything, stop being so dramatic! That’s just flat-out lying!”

The two of them rose from their seats, just as their mutual anger was; it was all clenching jaws and the grinding of aggravated teeth, as they butted heads with each other.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure you’d know a thing or two about that, now, wouldn’t you?” He quipped, cheeks beet-red.

Spirit trudged off, stomping his wrathful feet, yanking his suit jacket from off of their coatrack, and flinging the front door completely open.

“Where are you going?!” Kami yelled out, rushing over to meet him where he agitatedly stood.

“I’m leaving before I say something I’ll really regret.”

And with that, a glacial-like gust of wind blew her hair in every direction upon the weapon’s slamming of the door in her face, as she flinched at the strident, grating sound.

She angrily walked back over to the couch, slamming herself down onto the cushion shoved between the two others, staring daggers into the door, her arms crossed tautly over her chest, lying in wait for his imminent return.

Her brows were pinched, a frown present on her countenance, as she grimaced, allowing for an outraged tear to slide downwards.

Kami never considered herself to be prone to tears, but what else can one do but weep when they aren’t allowed to simply willy-nilly bludgeon someone else to death.

And when the bastard was to make his grand return, she was more than certain that he’d come back reeking of liquor and some other whore’s cheap-ass perfume.

And she, too, was sure that she’d end up being the one to hold his hair back as he evicted every last content irritating his stomach, since god-forbid he ever put the bottle down when it’s time to stop.

🥃

The snickering crescent moon cascaded beautifully and classily down onto the dingy liquor store, a little bell chiming as he pushed the door open, alerting the staff of his morose presence.

“Mr. Albarn, it’s been a while,” a familiar face warmly spoke, beaming. Spirit gave a friendly smile and nod in return.

Kami hadn’t allowed him to purchase anything with a trace of alcohol in it in a fairly long time, as she viewed him as some sort of “alcoholic” who’d surely end up on the streets one day if he didn’t nip his vice in the bud.

But for just one night, whatever Kami wanted didn’t matter. It could all be about whatever he wanted, and he wanted to drink.

He quickly managed to find the aisle holding the strongest vodka he’d ever drank, wasting no time perusing, smirking as he held the bottle in his hand, inspecting the way in which the fluorescent lighting bounced off of the glass. He took one short step outside of the aisle, before deciding to grab his favorite whiskey, setting both bottles on the counter with a soft ‘clank.’

“Somethin’ happen, sir?” The brunette cashier curiously prodded, one eyebrow raised, as she scanned the two needed barcodes.

“You could say that,” Albarn shrugged his shoulders, his hand diving into his left pocket, fishing for his wallet.

He handed the woman the one-hundred dollar bill he found, watching as she leisurely gathered his change, having already bagged the alcohol.

“Aw, I’m sorry.. I hope whatever you’re going through gets better,” she placed a few bills in his hands, along with a couple of quarters and pennies.

“Thanks,” the cashier handed him the beverage-filled paper bag, Spirit finding his way right back out into the crisp air of the night.

‘Where am I supposed to go? I can’t just sit down on the dirty sidewalks and drink,’ he pondered to himself, suppressing an annoyed groan. ‘I could go to Chupa Cabra’s… But I don’t want to deal with the kindness they’re paid to give me.. Or Kami’s whining about it.. Not to mention, if I were to get too wasted there and said a little too much… If word were to get out about what happened, who knows what would happen to our careers? And I already bought my own alcohol.’

There was only one place he could go.. Only one place where he knew wouldn’t be judged.. Where he knew the individual was tight-lipped… And it was an apartment he didn’t think he’d ever return to.. Not after what happened and how infuriated Kami was about it.

It was his and Stein’s formerly shared apartment - now only inhabited by Stein himself.

‘I think I’d rather Kami think I went to Chupa Cabra’s and hit on some girl…’

Spirit kicked the abundance of pebbles around on the cobblestone sidewalks, begrudgingly finding that his legs seemed to move on their own, leading him right back to Stein, despite the therapy-worthy trauma he put him through.

Their souls would forever be connected.. interlinked… There didn’t seem to be any chance of their wavelengths ever truly going off-balance.

And truthfully, he’d be lying if he said something about that didn’t make him feel… almost pleased.. It was as though their relationship just felt worthwhile, or like an accomplishment - a victory. Their ability to resonate was wholly effortless, and always had been. With Kami, it had always been a struggle despite the pair working decently well with one another on the battlefield.

Sometimes Spirit could still feel deeply within his own soul the calamity and rapid teetering back and forth of Stein’s own soul. It kept him up at night with a genuine and disturbing amount of worry. He still felt responsible for him to a degree, like his little guard dog… And also as his friend. He was still his friend, at least their souls were still intertweaved as thought they were.. And he didn’t want him to just.. completely lose it. He wanted to be a rock for him, though he’d vehemently deny it..

It always made Kami so jealous - their relationship.. She was always so jealous. Could she seriously not understand the history they have together? There was no severing their ties, or getting rid of that - no matter what.

Spirit balled his hand into a fist, having entered one of the apartment buildings commonly occupied by academy students, knocking on the door he sort of felt as though he’d abandoned in some ways.

“Spirit?” Stein spoke in a voice more stunned than the weapon had ever heard come out of him, his eyes bulging out from their sockets.

The scythe held the bag of alcohol upwards, tilting his head to the side questioningly, as if to say, “Can we put everything aside just for one night?”

“You want to come inside? Seriously?” He squinted his eyes in suspicion.

“Yeah.. There’s some really fucked up shit that just happened and… There is no one else in all of Death City as uncaring and willing to keep a secret as you.”

“All right, then,” he held the door open for the redhead apprehensively, and frankly, rather confusedly.

🥃

“So.. What do you have there?” Franken pointed towards the alcohol that had been taken out from the bag and placed onto the coffee table, Spirit running to fetch a few glasses from the cabinets.

“Vodka and whiskey..”

“Straight? Not mixing either with anything?”

“God, no… Not on a night like tonight. I’ll tell you in a second.. But you can look at the bottles if you want, of course. Just don’t lace the drinks with any experimental drug, or whatever,” he paused briefly after opening the cabinet door he expected the glasses and cups to be in. “You still keep them in the same place?”

“Never had any incentive to move them.”

Albarn nostalgically chuckled to himself in response, holding both shot glasses and two plastic cups in his hands, letting them rest against his arms and chest, adoringly looking over them.

He set the cups and glasses onto the table, neatly beside the bottles, sitting almost uncomfortably close to Stein given their… past, though the meister made no moves to force him farther away, nor did the weapon. Franken merely observed soundlessly as the male to his right fiddled with the bottles and such, pouring the vodka into the little shot glasses, filling the cups halfway with whiskey.

“You ready to take a shot?” Spirit smirked smugly.

“Are you going to tell me what you came here to vent about afterwards?”

“Yeah, obviously. Shots first, questions later,” he halfheartedly scowled, raising the glass to his mouth, Stein following suit.

And with one swift swoop, both men were left suppressing grimaces as the liquid burned on its way down their throats, their noses scrunching as they giggled synchronously at their own reactions.

“How’d Kami feel about you coming here? Not great, I presume?” He put his glass back down onto the table, dissecting the whirlwind of emotions within the ginger’s soul, as he stared concurrently expectantly and blankly at him.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he filled the glasses once more. “But what I didn’t fucking know - despite being a blessing - may or may not affect my ability to become a death scythe.”

“Blessing, huh? What, did you knock her up?” Stein began to laugh, snickering just as the moon was and still is.

“Well, actually, yes,” Spirit gave a sarcastic, frustrated, and small grin, downing whatever he could from the tiny glass.

“Oh, shit,” he delivered rather plainly, clearly unbothered, as he raised his shot glass into the air, teasing with, “A toast to the fact that most know how to properly make use of contraceptives.”

Albarn pushed him by his mocking arm, slapping it, causing the vodka to fly and roll speedily down Franken’s neck as he guzzled it down, sinking into his prominent collarbones, and disappearing down his habitually grey shirt, leaving a wet stream in its wake.

His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed, leaving Spirit fuzzily scrambling to remember the earlier offense he had taken to his little comment, as well as what he wanted to say back, for some odd and unknown reason, his body slowly heating.

“Seriously, Spirit, I thought you were smarter than that. After all the women you’ve-“

“I get it, I get it,” he flung his hands up in defeat after returning to the world he had been momentarily kicked out of, having been brought back by the realization of what the meister was going to say, stopping Stein before he could embarrass him even more so than he already was. “Actually, Kami lied to me about taking birth control.”

“You know what? That doesn’t surprise me,” Stein fetched the cup of neglected and idle whiskey, taking a swig of it, noticing Spirit doing the same from his peripheral vision. “But you still should have worn a condom, dipshit.”

“I know, I know… I’m an idiot. And I know you’ve always hated her,” the scythe shook his head both playfully and retrospectively disappointedly after finishing off the cup.

The longer time went on, the longer their conversation went on, the more light and pleasurably woozy he began to feel, his problems suddenly seeming more humorous than… whatever word might be appropriate… Appalling, perhaps? Shocking? Distressing?

Stein tittered, quickly catching up with Spirit in terms of his whiskey, before saying, “Well, yeah, she took my greatest experiment from me.”

“Greatest?” He choked out, delightfully perplexed despite the obvious dehumanization.

“Why, yes, of course.. But that’s not why I said that. I could just see her trying to trap you into a relationship, or.. I don’t even know. I could, frankly, just see her being the type to lie in such a way,” he threw his arm up onto the top of the couch, his hand resting right behind Spirit’s dazed head.

The both of them filled their cups up once more, gulping every last bit of the dizzying liquid down.

A vivid blush dusted across both of their cheeks, the entirety of their faces tinted. It was only a matter of time before they began babbling nonsensically to one another.

“Why’s that?” Spirit slammed the cup back down onto the coffee table, more alcohol cascading into it, as he wiped his lips off with his sleeve.

“She’s just… To me, she’s just obnoxious and conniving and thieving.. and..”

“You really don’t like her, huh..?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little biased,” he confessed.

Spirit laid his head against the hand behind it, an unconscious decision, after they both finished yet another cup, Stein licking the remaining whiskey from off of his lips, which did not go unnoticed by Albarn.

“Y’know,” the redhead drawled almost seductively. “She was always so jealous of you.”

“I could tell,” his typical sadistic and self-congratulatory smirk appeared on his face, an expression that both unnerved and seemed to turn on Spirit over the years, though he suppressed it. “How come? Did she think you were cheating with me of all people, or something?”

“Dunno… I guess so.. Or I thought she was all jealous because of our close friendship.. Maybe it’s that? Or both?

“I don’t know what her problem is, but she forgets that I was here first. You were my experiment first,” Stein’s countenance distorted into one of minor petulance. “She’s a bitch.”

The weapon’s mouth stretched into a shit-eating grin as he listened to his former partner ramble on, practically nuzzling further into the meister’s freezing hand.

“So.. Is that your way of saying you’re the jealous type, too?” He chuckled. “I never expected you out of everyone to be so possessive..”

“Well, she stole my test subject… I wasn’t done with you yet,” he admitted, the both of them inching closer to one another.

Stein grabbed the entire bottle of vodka, leaning his head back onto the couch, his eyes closed, downing a third of the bottle. Spirit felt as even more blood rushed to his face, as he crossed his legs at the sight of Franken’s cheeks hollowing around the neck of the bottle.

He discarded the alcohol, unthinkingly plonking it onto the side table, his gaze moving down towards exactly what was sticking out like a sore thumb, what Albarn was failing to conceal.

“Now, it’s normal to actively seek and desire any kind of affection, attention, and distraction from others when going through a rough patch… There’s no shame in it,” his smirk grew impossibly larger, as he snickered at the muscles of the weapon’s thighs tightening around each other, as he averted his flustered eyes from Stein’s own.

“Don’t. fucking. tease me,” he sucked cool air in through his teeth, pouty and teary-eyed. “This is embarrassing enough as it is…”

“Aw, the baby’s so sensitive… You were always my cutest test subject, too, y’know,” he chuckled at the furrow in his brows. “But there’s no reason to be so shy about it.. I’ll give you what you want, Spirit.”

“Really?” The ginger whipped his head around, his tone a little too hopeful and giddy, even for his own ears.

Franken laughed at how antsy he was, leaning closer, muttering, “Of course. Take that jacket of yours off, lay down and I’ll make you feel better than that alcohol ever could. I’ll make you forget about everything..”

Spirit thoughtlessly obeyed, the suit jacket being deserted someplace on the floor, lying down on his back, voice already breathy as he questioned, “I didn’t think you were the type to…”

“What? Fuck?” Stein wrapped his fingers around the male’s smaller wrists after removing his glasses, pinning him down to the sofa, both of their gazes half-lidded, Spirit nodding in agreement. “I’m not usually. But you know how I like to experiment. Especially with the most fascinating ones..”

He leaned down, breath fanning against Albarn’s neck, as he chastely pecked the skin, searching for any signs of objection from the reactive man. When he noticed none, he latched onto the flesh, directly above his carotid artery, with his teeth, biting and gently sucking at the skin, feeling pleased with himself as purple and red marks began to blossom.

Stein moved one hand away from his wrist, bringing it slowly down to the buttons of his collared dress shirt, meddling with them until he could feel the warmth and smoothness of skin underneath his fingertips, the weapon’s body becoming his to toy with.

A mortifyingly loud and dramatically long whine escaped Spirit’s mouth, as he felt Franken rub and twist his nipples with his free-hand, hissing when the meister bit down particularly hard into his neck, Stein basking in his noises.

“I’m gonna show this bitch exactly whose scythe you really are,” he growled, rutting his hips desperately into Spirit’s.

“You,” Albarn began in between not-so-hushed moans. “You said you think I’m cute? And fascinating?”

“Mhm,” he hummed in response, shifting to straddle his weapon, still grinding down against the other male’s throbbing erection, whilst shuffling out of his shirt after Spirit’s constant and irritated fussing with its hem, snickering, “You’re so needy.”

“You really think so? Uhm- the cute thing, I mean,” he panted out, biting down onto his lip in a mixture of nervousness and delightful overstimulation.

Stein ceased his movements entirely, squinting his eyes as to analyze Spirit, grinning in the most simultaneously grandiose, doting, and cruel way imaginable.

“Aww… You like that, don’t you? You want me to call you cute? You want me to praise you, huh?” Spirit whimpered, covering his face with his newly freed hand, demurely and sheepishly nodding.

Stein moved to sit further down on the weapon’s thighs, reaching down to unbuckle his belt. He lifted his hips up, helping the scientist to take his pants off.

“Does Kami not compliment you, lovely? Is she neglecting you? I don’t think she realizes how delicate you are,” he cooed, already having drug down the scythe’s ruined boxers, dragging a hand up and down his length, lightly squeezing the shaft, running his thumb over the sopping tip, and using Spirit’s pitifully abundant slick as a lubricant. “You need to be taken care of.”

Given the way in which Franken was speaking, it was clear as day to even Spirit’s fogged mind that he was deriving pleasure from affectionately mocking him and his fragility, from the idea of his weapon being vulnerable - a needy guinea pig for him to play with. He was always a sadist, after all. But Spirit didn’t mind - not when, underneath the clear sardonic tone, he was being praised for the same emotionality his actual lover often shamed and chided him for.

The redhead whined, whimpering as the moistness in his eyes spilled over, bucking his hips up to meet Stein’s quickening hand.

“You’re so adorable when you cry.. So pretty… I’ve always loved how much of a crybaby you are. It’s fucking beautiful,” he said, leaning his head down to kiss the head of his cock, licking an unhurried stripe from the base, upward. “Does she not let you cry either, baby? Because I would. And I have. I think you belong in a museum with the rest of the world’s best and most magnificent art.”

Shocks of pleasure ran up and down the weapon’s spine, his mouth hanging lustfully wide open, his eyes rolling repetitiously back into his skull.

“Please… More, Stein.. Please,” He pleaded in between moans, Franken grunting almost noiselessly at the sight, his own disregarded dick straining against the prison-like confines of his pants. “‘M getting close..”

“God, you should really beg more often,” Stein said in a low, raspy voice, pumping gradually faster, clasping a hand over his own crotch, leisurely palming himself. “You’re truly gorgeous inside and out, and believe me.. I’d know.”

Something about his latter statement, strangely enough, wasn’t a turn-off. He had seen not only the deepest recesses of his soul, but his body - his innards. And he liked what he saw. If only he could tell whether or not Kami did, too.

“You have the prettiest insides I’ve ever seen. I still remember them vividly.. You’re even prettier when you’re stitched up, scarred, and bleeding than when you’re not,” Stein reminisced in the most horny way Spirit had ever seen. “I wan to cut you up again. I want to steal you back. You’d be so much better off with me. I can be gentle. I can take better care of you, sweetheart.”

The combination of the dark glint in Stein’s eyes, the uncharacteristic amount of kind praise and pet names, his hand which seemed to expertly pick up the pace, and how perfectly in tune he was with his needs had him arching his back in no time, his head tilting backwards, a prolonged whine of “fuck” leaving his lips, his muscles contracting rapidly.

Franken grabbed the throw blanket lying over the arm of the couch behind him, cleaning both his hand and Spirit off with whatever he could find.

“Still want me to fuck your brains out?” He asked slightly jokingly.

Spirit’s chest bumped up and down as he caught his breath, his overheated skin perspiring, his hair disheveled, tear tracks staining his bright cheeks.

“Uh-huh,” was all he managed to produce, the back of his hand resting on top of his sweat-slicked forehead.

“Are you sure? You look recked and all I did was give you a handjob. Is Kami that horrible in bed?” Franken laughed, his pants dropping to his ankles, as he gave his weapon the once-over.

“I always do all the work,” he huffed. “Haven’t had anything really done specifically to me in a long time.”

“Oh, so, she IS neglectful?” He tossed his boxer shorts onto the floor, positioning himself above Spirit once more. “As I’ve said, I can take good care of you… better care of you,” Stein held his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, tilting his head back down to face him properly.

“Yeah, but that’s just so you’ll get to dissect me and shit,” he placed his hands onto Stein’s shoulders, of which possessed the same sturdiness that Kami’s stupid marble countertop had, as well.

“You know me so well,” he maliciously smiled.

Spirit wrapped his arms around the meister’s neck, pulling him abruptly down, passionately locking lips with the startled male.

After recovering from the initial shock, Stein kissed him back, taking the lead, as he bit softly down onto Albarn’s bottom lip, earning a soft groan from him. He seized the opportunity, prodding his tongue into the other’s mouth while he was too distracted to continue chasing after the tender eroticism of the kiss as a whole.

He moved an already wandering hand down, his pointer and middle finger flush with his hole, as he gradually and diligently pushed them past the first ring of muscle.

Spirit gasped, his previously closed eyes shooting open at the discomfort. Stein was quick to shush him, continuing to kiss him, moving his other hand to, once again, toy with his nipples as some sort of distraction.

“The pain will subside in a moment, I promise,” he soothed as he took a breath, leaning away from Albarn’s lips.

“If you say so,” Spirit grimaced. “….Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, slowly beginning to thrust his lengthy fingers inwards and outwards according to his weapon’s expressions and body language.

“I’ve been fantasizing about this for a while now,” he ashamedly divulged.

“Oh, really?” The redhead nodded. “Can I tell *you* something?”

“What is it?”

“I already knew that.”

He rammed his two fingers experimentally into him, all the way in, curling them and dragging them against his walls. Spirit dug his fingers into Stein’s arms, jumping a little out of his skin at the odd sensation.

“This feels weird,” he whined in a childish manner. It wasn’t exactly a complaint, but it wasn’t exactly not a complaint either.

Stein laughed, continuing his search for Albarn’s prostate. The least he could do was make the experience as a whole even remotely pleasurable.

“I know it’s not the best feeling, but it’s necessary if you’d like to lessen the pain later. And just give me a second, I think I can make it better for you.”

Spirit shoved his head into the crook of Stein’s neck, having tugged on his shoulders as to tell him to move closer, wrapping both his arms and legs around him tightly.

“Is she not physically affectionate enough for you either?”

“Is it that obvious?” He pursed his bitten lips.

Embracing another warm body seemed to give him a rush.. One of which he was unable to truly describe, other than it made him want to latch onto Stein and never let go - which was only exacerbated by the fact that he even decided to take the time to prep him at all. He was really going the extra mile trying to convince him to return to being his little lab rat.

“Go-god!” He had the wind absolutely and utterly knocked out of him the moment Franken found his g-spot, his fingernails stabbing into the poor man’s back as he groaned out in minor pain.

“Feeling good now?” Stein spoke in a strained voice, his face tensing as he felt the weapon’s nails dig and drag further into and over his spine.

“Thi-this is much better than before,” The scientist added another finger, much to the satisfaction of Spirit.

“Good.. Tell me when you think you’re ready to-“

“Now,” he interrupted restlessly, already achingly hard again. “Now, please.”

“Someone’s impatient,” he smirked, removing his fingers from the other, wiping them off on the soiled blanket.

“Of course, I am! You’ve already said it yourself, sort of!”

“What? That she doesn’t fuck you as much as you fuck her, if at all, and that’s not something you’re exactly handling well?”

“Yeah…”

Stein grabbed ahold of his dick, pumping it a few times before lining it up with Spirit’s hole, pushing into him little by little.

“You okay?” He asked, observing his face attentively. He had removed his hands begrudgingly from Stein, nearly tearing holes into the couch cushion with his nails.

“Yeah,” he took a few deep breaths. “Just stings.”

“Patience is a virtue. Remember that next time,” Spirit shot the meister a glare, watching him sink and disappear into him with rapture. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to move.”

He brought his hands back up to Stein, petting the red markings he’d left up and down his back as an apology, feeling the sigh the man released reverberating within him.

“Why’re you bein’ so nice?” Albarn stared into Franken’s curious and intrigued eyes, a certain glimmer in them he couldn’t quite place, one of which he’d never seen in him before.

“Is this not how you’re supposed to treat someone during sex? Am I doing something wrong? I didn’t know whether or not you were into being treated roughly, but you responded so well to being treated gently-“

“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry. You’re doing perfectly, I was just wondering. I was halfway expecting you to hack me open,” he chuckled, beginning to wiggle around hastily.

“Well, this was an impulsive decision and I didn’t grab a scalpel.”

“True,” he continued to writhe. “Can you move now, please?”

“Of course,” he concurred, thrusting in deeper, hips flush with Spirit’s, beginning to move in and out. “You wanna start out slow, right?”

“Actually.. No.. I give you free reigns to treat me like a fucking slut now,” he giggled, cringing internally at his own embarrassing words and shrugged his shoulders the best he could in his current position.

“Ah.. Is that so?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Stein pulled nearly entirely out, slamming himself back into Spirit, the scythe’s head coming dangerously close to hitting against the arm of the sofa, as he grinded repeatedly inside of him, causing Albarn’s jaw to go completely slack, his eyes about to burst out of his skull, loud moans and grunts pouring out of him.

He grasped one large hand around the weapon’s neck, his fingers curling around its thickness and squeezing, the redhead wheezing and whining in response.

“Stein,” he panted. “You’re so… quiet. I wanna hear you.”

He leaned much farther down, mouth right beside Spirit’s ear, increasing the speed and impact of his thrusts, as he released low whimpers and groans where he knew he’d be able to hear him best.

Spirit turned his head to the side, fully intending to watch each and every twitch of Stein’s facial muscles. And he was met with a sight more grand than anything else he’d ever seen before.

His eyes had rolled stunningly for a second, his lips wide apart, as pleasant noises and pants escaped him. His cheeks were as vermillion as Spirit’s fingers had been hours ago, his bangs mussed down, sticking to his forehead.

His grip on his neck began to falter, only to tighten once again as he succumbed more and more to the pleasure, murmuring, “I could fuck you like this everyday if you’d just stay mine and obey me like a good mutt should.”

Spirit himself whimpered and moaned, more pangs of pleasure shooting all throughout him like electric shocks, forming an enjoyable pressure and tingling in his lower body.

“Oh, yeah? You like that? You want to be my good mutt? My good dog?” Stein moved his head away from the male’s ear, staring dead at him, his hand leaving his throat and making its way to squeeze his cock, the brilliantly pinkish, reddish tip dripping with pre-cum.

Spirit’s back arched, lifting from off of the cushions below him, as he nodded fervently up and down.

“Then be MY weapon, MY scythe. Not hers. Mine,” he pumped his hand rigorously up and down, grinding as hard as he possibly could into him.

“I am yours, Stein, I swear. You can do whatever you want to me, I don’t care anymore,” he couldn’t remember how to breathe. He could only remember how to meet each and every one of his meister’s desperately libidinous movements.

“Good boy,” he quickened his hand, his hips. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours..”

“Again,” he ordered once more, rubbing at his sensitive tip.

“I’m.. I’m your weapon, I’ve never been hers!” He exclaimed, as streams of white spurted out from him, landing on both his and Stein’s abdomens, his legs quivering.

“Good. Fucking. Boy,” his hips stuttered violently forward, one hand by Spirit’s head, the other lying on his thigh, as he came inside of him, collapsing onto the male.

“That was wonderful,” Albarn sucked in whatever oxygen he could, feeling utterly doused in an unfortunate pool of sweat.

Stein rose from Spirit, his body having been against his, his face having laid momentarily in his blood-red hair.

“Where’re you going?” He whined out in complaint as the scientist stood, walking away from him, leaving him.

“I’m just getting a rag, so we don’t have to use that blanket, Spirit. You can come if you’d like,” he offered, picking his glasses up from off of the side table.

“I’m not sure if I can walk.. I’m tipsy and my legs feel wobbly,” he turned, watching as Stein picked their clothing up off of the floor, throwing it onto the side of the couch opposite to the sulky and clingy scythe. “You should carry me.”

“It’d be quicker for me to just run and get a rag,” the weapon’s expression sank the moment he processed his words.

With a sigh, Stein conceded, “How about this, I’ll put my entire self aside and cuddle you to sleep?”

“Deal,” he yelled gleefully out, the other exhaustedly moving towards the bathroom.

“Oh, and if it provides you any sort of solace or anything, I don’t usually want to fuck my test subjects, Spirit. Remember that. You’re the exception. You’re my favorite.”

🥃

The sun’s morning rays bled through the covered window of the living room, shaking Spirit awake as it flooded into his vision.

It felt as though pins and needles had been dug into his eyes, his temples ready to explode, disorientated and muzzy, as he attempted to lift himself from off of an oddly warm and fleshy mattress.

He looked sleepily to his side, the sight of a pile of clothes scattered across one side of the.. sofa? And a bottle of vodka over beside the clothes on a small table.. And those aforementioned clothes happened to be his and what looked to be.. Stein’s…

Wait a minute… Where was he?

“Look who’s awake,” a sonorous and groggy voice startled him, as he immediately whipped his head downwards in the direction of the sound, only to be met with a nude Stein.

A nude Stein? What?

His eyes tripled in size as he scanned the room, scanned his own apparently mostly naked body, being only covered by his unbuttoned shirt, and scanned what precisely he was perched upon, causing sudden bursts of the previous night to come back to him.

“Oh, God.. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,” he rushed out in a panic, scrambling to clothe himself as he stood up and away from Stein, of whom had his arms crossed behind his head, his eyes half-lidded and dull, as nonchalant as ever, all of him out on display.

“Remembering everything now?” He grinned, sitting up and leaning over towards where his pants had been left astray, digging into the pockets and retrieving a cigarette.

“What are we going to do, Stein?” Spirit held his face in his hands, running up and down each side of his head, and through his unkempt hair.

“Laugh,” he said in between self-satisfied chuckles, lighting the end of his cigarette, taking a long drag of it. “That was an impressively interesting way to come out to me, there, Spirit.”

“Oh, Shut up, Stein,” he snarled. “And.. God… she’s pregnant! And what if she finds out?! What if she leaves me?! I.. What have I done? No, no, no, no…”

“Probably shouldn’t have thought with the wrong head, huh?” He blew smoke in the direction opposite of Albarn.

“You’re such an asshole,” he sniveled, wiping away quickly falling tears in humiliation and shame, his shirt still unbuttoned, his pants not zipped up.

Franken sighed, standing and trudging over to the blubbering scythe, placing his cigarette in between his lips and allowing it to hang, zipping his pants up, buckling his belt, and buttoning his dress shirt for him.

This is how he’s always been when hungover. Those of whom viewed him as being overly emotional or even downright theatrical before seeing him the morning after too many drinks had no clue what they were talking about. He’d become a different version of himself when hungover. He’d cry at the slightest change in tone when hungover.

And to be frank, Stein didn’t really blame him. His own head was pounding, every little photon made him want to gouge his eyes out, and his stomach was beginning to churn with nausea, so it’s not as though he himself wasn’t ready to break down sobbing along with him.

Franken took one last inhale of the cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray he’d left on the far end of the coffee table, setting it down inside of it before placing a placid and serene hand on the back of Albarn’s head, pulling him in and comforting him the way he’d learned how to over the years.

He wasn’t typically the type to soothe anyone, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t gain a certain level of sadistic enjoyment from the fact that Spirit was moldeable putty in his hands.. It wasn’t something he was exactly proud of, though he was not ashamed of it either. And, of course, observing the male’s reactions towards his affectionate gestures was truly fascinating.

“It’s going to be okay, Spirit. There’s no use in crying over it. What’s done is done. I can help you cover the hickeys up,” he brushed sweetly up and down his scalp, and up and down his spine.

“You can?” Spirit peered up at the scientist, chin resting on his chest.

“Yeah, all I need to do is put a little makeup on you,” he brushed his cheek with his thumb, tenderly sliding it back and forth against the skin.

“You have makeup?” He gawked at him, Stein being the person he’d expected the least to own any sort of makeup.

“Oh, only a little. I like to do SFX when I get bored, sometimes,” Franken gave the touchy-feely man a touchy-feely kiss on the forehead, analyzing the way in which he fought melting into him. “I’ll just use some concealer and foundation and shit, and it should go all right, unless you turn out to have a drastically different skin tone than me. You’re a bit tanner. But we’ll paint up your face and such, too. I’m sure it’ll be believable given your current predicament.”

“Thank you,” he gratefully smiled. “But what if she notices the foundation? She knows what foundation looks like when applied, Stein..”

“Well, it’s worth a shot, is it not?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he sullenly pouted.

“The makeup’s in the bathroom.. I’ll have to turn the light on, though,” they both groaned in unison.

“Whatever it takes.. Plus, we’re both probably gonna end up throwing up anyway, might as well already be in there,” they separated from one another, walking side by side to the godforsaken bathroom with its godforsaken lights.

🥃

“Were you being serious last night?” Stein asked, padding against Spirit’s neck with a foundation-covered beauty blender, his eyes remaining solely on the overt markings he’d left behind.

“About what?” The weapon was sat on top of the countertop, a black bag filled with makeup, face-paint, and fake blood sitting on the other side of the sink, Franken standing in between his spread legs.

“…About being my weapon and not hers.”

Spirit narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment, both out of genuine consideration and an attempt to remember at what precise point in time he uttered such words, blushing furiously when it came back to him.

“I… Uhm..”

“It’s okay if not. I only want an honest answer,” thought he spoke in his usual monotone, the scythe couldn’t help but feel the heavy weight of disappointment radiating from Stein.

“No, no.. It’s not that.. I was being honest, but..”

“I know you love her. It’s fine if you prefer her, or would prefer to stay with her. That’s what I expected,” he finished with applying the foundation, fetching some sort of powder and brush to dab onto the area.

Spirit felt more guilty than he ever had before at how ‘used to it’ the meister sounded, being reminded of how he had effectively abandoned the former life he had.

“At the end of the day, I am aware of what I did and what I may or may not continue to do,” he placed the brush down onto the counter, looking closely over the redhead’s skin as to compare and contrast how differently the foundation appeared against his true skin color. “I think I might need to apply it all over your neck and face.. Perhaps even your hands, too..”

“Stein… It’s not that I don’t want to stay with you.. I’m conflicted,” he twiddled his culpability-ridden thumbs.

“You don’t have to force yourself to like me, Spirit. Don’t feel obligated to be nice. You know I prefer bluntness,” he spread the concealer and foundation and such over the rest of his counterpart’s neck, smoothing it into the skin underneath his chin.

“No, I *do* like you! It’s just that I like Kami, too, and she said she’d leave me if I didn’t become and stay her weapon.. She said that’s how she’d know that I love her, and that was, like, the perfect turnout for any couple, and it was romantic, or some shit like that,” he began elucidating, honestly a little frantic to assure Stein he wasn’t just going to give up on him like everyone else seemed to, and that he did, in fact, like him and his… eccentric personality.

Franken paused, ceasing his movements entirely, the blender and brush sitting beside each other as he placed his hands on the counter, both next to Spirit’s thighs.

“Don’t you think it’d be better to leave someone who consistently threatens you, and makes you feel as though you need to measure up? I’m no expert when it comes to any relationships, obviously, but is that not textbook emotional manipulation?” The scientist pointed out precisely what Albarn did not want to accept. “You’re clearly not good for each other. You just cheated on her with me, and she’s.. She’s Kami. Based purely upon the evidence, emotional manipulation and cheating doesn’t tend to have a great effect on the human psyche - unless mental deterioration is your goal, of course.”

The world around him, including the male standing patiently in front of him, blurred and swirled as tears brimmed in his eyes again, spilling out and falling down despite his best efforts.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Stein… I don’t want to leave her.. And I’m not so great to her either,” he wiped his running nose with the back of his hand, Franken handing him a roll of toilet paper as he did as such.

“What do you mean? The getting fucked by your ex-partner?” He suppressed an amused chuckle.

“Well, yeah… But it’s not just that,” little droplets beaded on Spirit’s long eyelashes, becoming steadily more apparent the harder he wept and the more he tilted his head downwards in yet another burst of shame. “I said something to her.. and I’m mad at myself for it.”

“What’d you say?” Stein moved the makeup utensils farther away from the crybaby, temporarily shuffling them back into the bag.

“I.. All she did was bring up a valid point - that we’re not ready, and she brought up abortion.. And I snapped at her and told her she owed me the baby after lying, and it pissed her off,” he sniffled, blowing his nose cartoonishly into one of the multitude of fuzzy, paper squares.

“That was the best way you could’ve put it,” he sarcastically grinned, Spirit frowning in response, annoyed and fed up with Stein’s teasing. “Hey, I’m just trying to lighten the mood a little.. Here,” he brought the weapon’s head back to his chest, patting him gently on the back as he whimpered sadly.

“‘M sorry I cry so much,” he choked on a pitiful sob.

“Oh, this is pretty interesting to me, so there’s no need to apologize. And you cry a lot less when you’re not hungover and just generally not feeling like complete and total shit,” he reassured in a quiet voice, one of which seemed to soothe Spirit like a lullaby. “I’m not your obnoxious girlfriend. There’s no reason to be insecure about it.”

“Clearly,” he snuffled out in agreement, finding that his extremities were gradually becoming more and more jello-like under the touch of the same man who repeatedly and non-consensually ripped him open. It was as though Stein was two similar, yet distinctive people at times.

“I know it will be difficult for someone such as yourself, especially given her sudden and unprecedented pregnancy, but it’d be best for the both of you to leave one another. You should break up with her. And remember; if you two do end up going through with having the baby, you can always visit the child if it doesn’t happen to live with you,” he brushed the ginger’s hair from out of his eyes and he stared up at him, running guiding and grounding fingers across his forehead, as he tucked the strands behind his ear.

“I know, but I love her…”

“….Truly, it’s your decision to make, Spirit. That’s just my personal opinion,” Franken thumbed away the continuously rolling tears, one hands smoothing over the wrinkles in the back of his shirt.

“Thank you,” he hiccuped.

“Mhm… Now, the foundation isn’t too bad of a match.. But I do still think it could use some work.. Would you like me to use it on your face, as well?”

“Sure… But let me throw up first..”

🥃

Spirit stepped into his shoes, of which had been sat right beside Stein’s, just like old times. It was sickeningly domestic in a sense, as well as wistful.

And with a whisper of “goodbye,” a profound bidding of adieu holding much more than what meets the eye, he trudged out of the apartment, and out of the complex itself, dreading the conversation that was to come, and ignoring the unpleasantly cake-y texture lathered on his face.

He tried to distract himself with the beauty of the nature surrounding him as he walked, only to be hit with constant reminders of his problems, as he lowered his gaze away from the young children skipping along, hand-in-hand with their parents, giggling and acting overly jovial.

He was beginning to think that the universe had it out for him.

He anxiously strolled under a few weeping willows, something of which he found rather ironic given how much he himself had been weeping, and gave that thought a small chuckle.

Unfortunately, however, any and all humor was sucked straight out of him by the soul-crushing black hole that was the coming discussion, as he retrieved the key to his and Kami’s apartment door, slowly turning it within the knob, terrified of being too loud and alerting his girlfriend. Though she’d most likely be waiting for him the moment he pushed the door open.

And that she was.

She was sat down on the very center of the couch, staring at him with what he could only describe as being something mixed between bloodlust and sorrow.

“Look, I’m sor-“

“Spirit,” she abruptly interrupted, evidently not willing to hear any apology he had to give. “Why were you out all night? Where were you? And why do you smell like both liquor and cigarette smoke? Don’t tell me you’re drinking and smoking again.”

Shit. Cigarette smoke. The one thing neither of them thought to account for.

“So, what if I am? I can make my own decisions. And please, just let me-“

“Why can’t you just be more responsible? We’re having a baby, are we not? Given that you won’t even consider abortion.”

Spirit moved closer to Kami, sighing and shoving his keys back into his pocket, and standing in front of her, their round coffee table in between them.

“I think you forget that we’re both seventeen, Kami. I think you forget that we are BOTH pretty irresponsible. Need I remind you of the lie that lead us to this moment?” He crossed his arms over his sternum, looking directly into her self-serving eyes, as he bit into his tongue.

She glowered intensely at him, pursing her lips for a brief moment, as she questioned once more, “Where were you, Spirit?”

His thoughts raced, his mind twisting and turning trying to come up with some decently elaborate, yet not too elaborate lie.

“I went to the liquor store. I went to the tobacco store. I went to Marie’s house. I got drunk, I smoked, and I talked to Marie and Joe.”

“Oh, great, you rattled off to them about me, didn’t you? I bet you tried to fuck her, too,” Kami accusingly stated, standing up, now face-to-face with Spirit, minus the table.

“For one, I believe I just mentioned Joe being there, and he was there the whole time. Secondly, I don’t fuck anyone who’s already with someone else. Thanks for showing how little you think of me.”

“Oh, but you’d fuck any other slut who happened to come onto you, right? So long as they didn’t belong to anyone?” Kami marched on over to Albarn, getting up close and personal, squinting her eyes in suspicion as she got a good look at him. “What the hell’s on your face? Is that foundation? Is that why you look so damn pale? Why are you wearing… Wait a minute..” She touched around his face, his neck, even more anger effervescently bubbling within her.

“Why would you be wearing makeup? Are you trying to hide something, like, I don’t know, a hickey, maybe?”

“Who says I can’t just like makeup?”

“Don’t play dumb, Spirit.”

“Fine. I’m hiding hickeys,” he owned up to his infidelity despite the anxiety that came with it, not desiring in any way, shape, or form to be anything like Kami; a raging liar.

Kami raised her hand, slapping him across his face, her hand leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. He held the cheek her hand collided with delicately and soothingly, fighting back even more tears, not wanting to look weak.

“Who. did. you. fuck. Spirit? It better not have been Marie.”

“You wanna know? You really want to know?” The weapon’s nose was nearly touching hers, as he bared his teeth.

“Yes, I want to fucking know!” She screamed, clenching her fists.

“It was Stein! Are you pleased to no it wasn’t Marie? It was Stein! I never went over to Marie’s place! And he fucked me better than you ever could. It was the best sex I’ve ever had. Do you want to hear exactly what he did to me? Huh?”

“You did what?” Kami took a few detesting steps backwards, beginning to shake her head back and forth in disbelief, similar, yet different to how she had in the bathroom. “I can’t believe you,” she huffed out a laugh. “I expected you to cheat but with STEIN? With HIM? With another MAN? Holy shit…”

“Welp, since it’s already out in the open, is this a good time to tell you I’m bisexual?” He threw his arms in the air, only for them to fall and smack noisily against his thighs.

“God, I just… Why? Why did you do that? And why didn’t you tell me that a long time ago?” She continued to shake her head.

“Well, I got drunk and shit happens. And Of course I didn’t tell you, I figured you’d judge me for it just like you judge me for everything else!”

“Seriously?! You’re so fucking dramatic! And you’re seriously going to try to just dismiss you fucking someone else?!”

“And there you go again! You always say that, any time I’ve ever brought anything up! And no, I’m not trying to make it seem less serious or whatever, I’m just saying, I was wasted and shit happens!” His eyes moistened, his headache surely progressing into a migraine, the tingling and burning of his cheek proving to be a bothersome disturbance.

“You’re a whiny, annoying, cheating piece of shit,” she insulted him, reaching beside him and yanking her purse from off of the coffee table, the strap swinging around her arm and resting on her shoulder. “I’m fucking done with you.“

“Wait! What about the baby?!” He worriedly shouted, watching as Kami swung the door open just as he had.

“You know what, Spirit?” She turned her head and body to the side to face him. “I’ll keep it. I’ll keep the baby. But only so I can take pleasure in the fact that you’ll live in constant agony knowing your child is somewhere, living without a father.. Or at the very least, living without you.”

The door slammed, ringing in Spirit’s shaken ears. And once again, that moistness poured out from his eyes as abundantly as the whiskey had poured from the bottle.

He wouldn’t get to see his baby grow up.

He kneeled down, sitting languidly down onto the floor, still processing what just happened.

Kami was gone. And he wouldn’t get to see his baby grow up. The baby he’d always wanted, unexpected or not.

His chest tightened, feeling as though a boa was wrapping around his heart, constricting and squeezing until the organ was to burst. He coughed out anguished sobs, gasping for air as his hand came to land against his abdomen, his stomach being wrung in and out, his skin boiling.

Should he call someone? Should he call Stein? Should he try to get in his pants again as a distraction? Would Stein even allow for that? Should he drink?

His torso fell forward, as he landed on his hands and knees briefly, his body caving in to the turmoil, soon finding himself lying on the floor and struggling to breathe.

He needed to call someone. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted comfort. He wanted the comfort Stein gave him, even if he knew the meister only gave it to him as some sort of experiment, for his own selfish reasons.

He dug into his pockets, bringing his cellphone up to his face, dialing Stein’s number from memory, as Kami forced him to both block and delete his number over a year ago.

“Hello?” The scientist’s voice boomed through the speakers.

“St.. Stein?” He called brokenly out in between pathetic sobs.

“Yeah? What happened?”

He could no longer see, could no longer breathe, could no longer properly move; a soul-sucking, alcoholism-inducing depression swaddling him like he’d never be able to do with his baby.

“Can you come over? Kami’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Gone.”

#soul eater #takeyourcyanide #franken stein #stein #stein soul eater #dr stein #spirit albarn #spirit soul eater #kami (soul eater)#kami albarn #maka’s mother #hurt/comfort #smut #soul eater fanfic #soul eater fanfiction #my fanfic #Spotify

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intotheelliwoods · 11 months

Text

Oh do please tag me! Even if I do not reblog it I would still love to see it :)

---

So the Sprout keychain would probably look something like this!

Meanwhile I got in some proofs for what Poptart would look like, here they are:

But I do want to note it may be a while till the Poptart ones are finished, looks like there may be some shipping delays and they will not be available for buying until somewhat late November. That and this is definitely going to be a big learning experience for me!

Point being, may take awhile until I can get some ones for Sprout, some things might change, and even then if/when I do a batch two I may order a mix of both leos anyways :)

@alltheyearsblog

---

Putting all the tumblr error anon asks into one little segment here, uh let me try and explain what happened!

I think tumblr implemented some, new image filter system...? Which for some reason, did not like some of my panels in comics, making it so they would not show up on dashboards, only my profile

Tumblr was no help on this, did not respond to any emails (at least not yet...?)

Since less people followed my main I posted each panel one by one to see which panels got through the filters and which ones the new filters had issues with

I also want it to be known that it was not just a my account thing, some friends of mine also attempted posting the panel with no luck on it showing up on dashes

So after finding which panels the filters didnt like, it was a matter of editing the panel until tumblr decided to allow it through the filters, you are going to laugh at these results, I had to put filters over them for tumblr to even allow these discord screenshots:

(have fun even spotting the difference with the donnie one lmaooo)

In conclusion: tumblr is being really stupidly picky over the images I post out of nowhere, and if this happens with each comic I try to post I will go mad

---

Oh the perch is such a good idea!!! @cartoonfan

And oh I didnt even think about how Raphs big form could fit into this.... hmmm I will ponder these ideas, + the ending I have in mind isnt much of an ending anyways, its still open for story!

AND AH. I HAVE NOT READ OPEN YOUR SHELL TO FIND YOUR WINGS but I have heard of it!!! They would be disaster beetles.....

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hhehhhuehuhe :) eee

#asks #HOW DO ASKS PILE UP SO QUICKLY #I JUST CLEANED MY INBOX LIKE. 2 DAYS AGO

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whoblewboobear · 2 months

Note

Hey sorry if this is weird to say n I know the tags you left on my post the other day when I was joking abt like. How all roads for Jace lead back to Porter like I know they’re old tags and I meant to reply sooner but I really liked what u had to say esp the part at the end I guess abt like. Is Jace returning to Porter even when we try to give him something new tragic or is he glad he got to experience new life with other people who also got to experience new life through essentially the act of creation. I just thought that was a beautiful sentiment. Like I joke about us being in the Zarajace trenches but I love her so much and i get she’s a minor character but it really does make me sad that she’s never seen as a character whose interiority is worth taken seriously. (I literally checked to see if i was crazy and like for example on ao3 she’s only in like 10 works and one is mine two are yours! and the others are like misc Zaraporterjace or sb content n offhand mentions.) I love her so much. Maybe this is silly but even as ‘always a duo’ can be so personal there is something to like. Imbuing a constellation of people including Zara that also get second rich life when we write abt our little blonde guy that we put in Situations :’)

Anyway keep fighting the good zarajace fight ily we’re stronger together! 💪

It's not weird at all! I got so in the weeds with my tags on your post bc Just the idea that maybe we all doomed Jace by tying him back to porter makes me sad but then there's duality to it of, hey he got agency and maybe he's happy too. They started in such a dark place because of the implications within canon but like- the power that creation holds is so special. In the show, Zara had a lot more to work with and I remember being a little scared to write her because it felt so daunting. She already had agency and personality that felt so clear. Like I look at her and I want to be truthful to the seeds that were planted with how she's portrayed. But it really is that same internal debate of did we doom her and take away some of that agency by tying her to Jace? Or is she happy?

ngl I have both you and @italicized-oh to thank for putting the ZaraJace brainworms in my head bc I- wow. Just like- I came into this a starbreaker girlie and fell ass backwards into ZaraJace best friends to QPR to Lavender Marriage pipeline and I think through that, through Jace and through creation Zara is happy. Plus I love that her paramour is still acknowledge a lot of the time. She has such a deep love for them outside of all the Jace and Porter shenanigans. Maybe when the lens isnt focused on her, she's having a full life in her own right. I like to think that she's fulfilled and she's happy. But goddamn I would love to see and maybe even write some Zara charater studies bc as a vampire loving whore, I'm in love with awe of her 😭

Thank you for such a lovely message~ and godspeed in the ZaraJace trenches bc we're gonna need it lmaooo

#its always so lovely to scream about zarajace with youuuu!#zukkacore #asks

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dirtysvthoughts · 2 years

Note

congrats on 100 followers!! next time you blink it’ll be 1000 haha! 💞

for your timestamp drabble event:

38 + 126 + woozi and idk if this is too much to ask but could he be a bit of a loser…? like 0 bitches whatsoever so he doesn’t really know how to act when someone shows interest in him lol 😭

dirtysvthoughts hits 100 followers!

a/n: thanks anon! y’all are so sweet omg 🥹 this was my first time writing a bitchless pov, so pardon if its not the best 😭😩 😈 0 bitches really sent me LMAOOO i hope y’all are ready!

tags: bitchless! jihoon, female! reader, non-romantic relationship, but you both have a mutual attraction for one another, reader is a TEASE, dirty talk, we’re lowkey back to writing filth 🥴

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

38. “you want to have sex with me?”

126. “y-you’re not.. w-wearing anything under that are you?”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“wait, what?” he says from across his studio, completely stopping his work, turning his chair to face you.

“i mean you’ve been on my mind for a while.”

“s-so what does that mean?”

“it means i like you, jihoon.. but you probably hear that a lot anyway..” he shyly smiles as he runs his fingers through his hair, blushing inside at your words.

“well, not as direct as you,” he whispers at a level that you can hear.

you smirk as you get up from your seat and walk sultry towards him. as you get up, he can’t help but notice how hot you looked in your short black skirt and tiny little crop.

“goddamn,” he thinks to himself. “how is she so fucking sexy right now?” he tries to avoid letting the growing tent in his jeans show, but it might already be too late. he blushes as you get closer, fidgeting with them hem of his shirt.

you place your legs on opposite sides of his and you slowly place your crotch on his clothed dick. you moan loudly at the feeling as you lean further into his touch, hands roaming across chest, mentally foaming at the mouth at how broad he is.

“y-you’re not… w-wearing anything under that are you?” you bite your lip as you look into his eyes, subtly grinding yourself on his lap. “these panties feel like nothing, i feel like i could leave a spot on your jeans with how wet i’m getting..” you breathlessly laugh as you leave a hickey on his neck. “god, you’re so fucking sexy, i just want you to take me down..”

jihoon has no idea where to put his hands. does he put his hands your boobs? but then your ass looks so good in this skirt, so maybe your ass? but he wants to hold you by your hips so he can guide you on him. he decides to put them on your hips, going up and down your legs as you continue to grind down on him.

you’re so lost in your own pleasure that you almost don’t realize the new feeling in your core. jihoon puts two fingers into you and you grab his shoulders as your body adjusts to the sensation.

“g-god, f-fuck, ji-jihoon! oh my god, m-more please!!” you beg for him. he continues his pace until you come undone all over his jeans, knowing for sure that a wet spot would be left.

“wow, i- don’t even know what to say,” jihoon laughs as he runs his fingers through your hair. you sit in silence for a few seconds, finally breaking the silence to fulfill your desires.

“jihoon?”

“yeah?”

“you wanna have sex? i’ve never wanted someone as bad as i do now. fuck jihoon, how are you so hot?”

“y-you want to have sex? with me?”

“i need you jihoon,” you say as you take of your top, now topless in front of him. he can’t help but groan at your half-nakedness, wanting to see more of you.

“do you want me too?”

#seventeen smut #seventeen imagine #seventeen imagines #svt smut #svt imagines #seventeen x reader #woozi smut #jihoon smut #woozi imagines #woozi imagine #dsvtt: answered asks

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greenshi · 2 months

Note

alright tell me about YOUR current favorite guy now

I AM FINALLY DOING THIS i have been. so distracted lmaooo. BUT I decided to do the guy in my icon, fifth member of weezer and best FE character, Python <3. He may not be the Number One guy in my brain right this moment, but that spot and most after it are all taken by OCs, so. We're doing him instead. Also because of this tag because I think you'd like this guy jort

ANYWAY, Python. My guy. He's a character from Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, a recruitable archer early on in Alm's route.

Now, in Echoes, the class discrepancy between nobles and commoners is a prominent theme, especially in Alm's route. This is something that comes up in a lot of FE games, unsurprisingly, seeing as princes and thieves fight together side by side. And the games (at least those I've played, which is only FEA-FE3H. I know.) tend to handwave a lot of the more unsavory points of that topic. A lot of the time, conversations or supports that delve into that topic end in "yeah, being poor and starving sucks, but you know what also sucks? Being royalty! It's really hard :[" which, like, yeah, it is, but also one party here has the means to help the other, but is choosing not to instead say how their life sucks too, actually. Idk, these conversations always rubbed me in the wrong way a bit.

ALL THAT BEING SAID, Python is a commoner. And he doesnt buy any of that "being rich is hard too guys :[" shit for a Second. In his support with Clive (a nobleman knight who's opinion on the whole situation is "well some people have to be poor so I can be rich") he straight up tells him that his ideas on how society should be run are wrong and that his view on common people are condescending at best.

youtube

Python doesn't fight for honor or any sense of duty, he fights for his paycheck and his childhood friend who does feel that duty, Forsyth. Even if he and Forsyth disagree on many things, there's a mutual respect between the two, an understanding of their station, and a small rivalry between how to best navigate said station. Forsyth encourages Python to get out there, try things, put some effort into life. But Python just, doesn't see much of a point. But it's not for any depressive reason, or even straight apathy. Python just prioritizes rest and relaxation. He doesn't live to work, he has no dream job (which Forsyth takes as having no dream at all, not that Python would disagree), he just wants to enjoy his life; sleeping in the sun, having a few drinks, spending time with friends, and sharing stories and gossip.

Speaking of friends and gossip, I'm going to drop my favorite support of his, maybe even my favorite support in the whole game (even though its locked behind a dlc map like seriously what was up with this games dlc why is a support between two base game units behind a paywall-)

youtube

Going from this support, and the fact that neither of them have romantic endings, (Lukas' even saying he 'never wanted for companionship') this is a pretty clear attempt by FE at writing two aroace (or at least just aro) characters. And, idk, I think its really special. Neither are framed as missing out or needing another to be happy, the conversation is to the point and respectful, and they are both allowed to be full characters beyond this detail of their lives.

And that's a common thread through Python's character that I admire. In any other story, the character that had no want for big dreams, constant improvement, or romance would be framed as an empty person, someone deeply unhappy without anything to strive for. But, even as the other characters try and impose that narrative onto Python, that's never actually the case. He is happy as he is, doing just enough to be as comfortable as he can, taking rests and shortcuts all along the way. He will not sell his time more than he must, he will not work harder than he has to, he will not allow those who push themselves to breaking for those above them to guilt him into doing the same. He has nothing to prove, nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, the one time he could push himself, in his bad ending after Forsyth dies, *THAT* is when he is empty and miserable, fighting like his friend once did until his early, untimely death.

Python is just such a breath of fresh air. He was the one in my brain telling me say no to my boss long before Chilchuck, he is a character that not even FE has been able to write like that again (even when writing for him specifically, like his Heroes characterization is so off and bad augh). He is one of the very few canonically aro characters I can find, and I'm proud to have him napping in my icon for the foreseeable future.

#ask #fire emblem #fire emblem echoes #shadows of valentia #python fire emblem #python fe #i love this guy a lot. if you couldnt tell wjhebckjwenj #python my friend python

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awooghan · 2 years

Text

24 to 25 ✧.* y.ji (part two)

❄ PAIRING: jeongin x fem!reader

❄ GENRE: fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, christmas

❄ WARNINGS: mild language, mentions of food, long as hell, i put the ‘slow’ in slowburn (in my defense this trope does not work without it), i’ve checked like 1922847473 times for inconsistencies but if there are any pls be nice it’s my first long fic ;w; also you can slowly see the quality of my writing decline in the end im sorry 😭

❄ WORD COUNT: 47.7k (part one: 25.9k; part two: 21.8k) i'm so sorry

❄ SUMMARY: “stay for christmas?” was a phrase jeongin first uttered to you when you were both ten years old, but you had no idea how much those three little words would mean to you as the years go by. (inspired by “24 to 25” by stray kids)

❄ NOTES: IT’S FINALLY UP!! i’m so sorry for the wait, i really really wanted to get this right and it took me wayyy longer than i thought it would. but i love how it turned out and i'm so proud of it. i hope y’all enjoy :’)

i’ll include more to the note when i'm not in such a rush to get this posted but tysm to everyone who helped me in writing it! @crispy-chan jas thank you for beta reading (i’m so sorry it was so long) your comments were really sweet and really reassured me that i was doing okay <3 thank u @pearleechai and @gloseoks for helping me out with that one part i got stuck on for like a week lmaooo. to parker specifically, ty for all ur help and encouragement in the couple chapters i asked for help on :D i’m sorry it meant u had some of the fic spoiled for u tho ;w; lastly, @svtbabies hopie u have been my lifesaver from start to finish w this fic. thank u so so much for planning w me and for the multiple times u saved me from a huge writer’s block. i wouldn’t have been able to complete this without you, so ty for everything <33 also ty for the banner lol

➳ IMPORTANT!!! this fic is so long that i have to split it into two parts. i'd use the legacy editor but i can't toggle btwn the two anymore 😭 i did not intend for it to be this lengthy but anything for childhood friends to lovers i guess. PLEASE READ PART ONE FIRST.

part one | [part two]

network tags: @straykidsland

taglist: @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @crow953 @urmomma0324 @tasmtrilogy

20.

Regardless of how desperately you wanted to enjoy Christmastime like you'd usually do, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it this year.

You had long broken up with Heeseung, and while it did hurt immensely to begin with, it still persisted as a dull ache. You’re a little bummed you couldn’t indulge in your Christmas romance fantasies this year, but you figured you’d manage. You know that wasn't everything in a relationship; it was just a bonus, especially for someone like you.

But what does feel unbearable this year had nothing to do with love or romance. All you could think about was last year and the way Jeongin had left.

It plagued your mind for weeks after that night, on whether or not you should have stayed and spent your time with Jeongin instead of bringing Heeseung to Jisung's Christmas party. Nevertheless, you had to remind yourself that you didn't know Jeongin had planned to leave that night—and no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn't go back and change the past.

You couldn't tell if you resented Jeongin for what he did, or if you blame yourself for not listening to him. All the times he wanted to speak to you last year—maybe even to tell you, you just cut him off, too caught up in your new romance with Heeseung to even notice what Jeongin wanted to say.

Perhaps this was what you deserved for trying to follow Jisung’s advice when you were sixteen. “Date and move on,” he said. There was nothing to move on from, but you still tried it anyway.

And look where that got you.

Your original plan had been to stay nestled up in the comforts of your bed, watching whatever trash Hallmark had put out this year as you drank an atrocious amount of hot chocolate to comfort yourself. You were tempted to avoid Christmas plans altogether, especially when all the neighborhood party would do was remind you of Jeongin..

However, Jisung, the persistent fool that he was, wouldn't let that happen. Not when you could be watching laughable Christmas movies with him and his, and now your, friends.

Felix and Hyunjin are squished together on the loveseat in Jisung's apartment, not that Felix seemed to mind as it gave him an excuse to cuddle someone. Seungmin is positioned on the floor, his legs crossed under the coffee table as he picks away at what little snacks remained in the bowls Jisung had laid out earlier. And you were lazily stretched out across the sofa, your head in Jisung's lap. Since Jisung was the one that dragged you out of bed, he was going to have to put up with your grumpy state.

"What do we watch next?" Felix calls out as the end credits of the Elf roll across the screen. He casually scans the room for your responses, his arms wrapped loosely around Hyunjin's waist.

"The Grinch?" Seungmin suggests before Hyunjin quickly follows up with A Charlie Brown Christmas.

You pout. All of those sound good but you’d be lying if you said you were in a particular mood for any of them. It almost crushed you to say that, as they had brought you so much joy in the past, but none of them seemed to cut it this year.

A few seconds passes by and you decide to speak up, throwing in a suggestion of your own.

"Are there any Christmas animes? Why don't we watch those instead of a movie?"

A deafening silence fills the room at your suggestion. The boys exchange confused glances with each other, and you begin to wonder if you said something wrong. If there were Christmas cartoons, surely there’d be Christmas animes, right? But your thoughts are quickly cut short when you hear Jisung gasp rather loudly.

"Oh, so NOW you want to get into anime?!"

Your frown deepens and you hit Jisung's thigh with your fist. "Shut up, it was just a suggestion."

Another silence hangs in the room and the other three boys watch you silently like hawks, as if they were ready to pounce on you at the next move you’d make. You hate how small you feel under their piercing stares, and you shuffle to the other side of the couch in hopes that they’d stop.

"This isn't because you miss a certain person, is it?” Jisung chirps in a teasing tone. He crawls over to your end of the couch, a grin pulling at his lips as he pokes at your cheek repeatedly. “Is that why you're all Scrooge McDuck?"

You jerk your head away and shove his hand back, letting out a strangled groan. "Oh my god, Jeongin has nothing to do with this! and it’s Ebenezer Scrooge!"

Jisung snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "I never said Jeongin's name."

"He got you there, just saying." Felix chimes in with a shrug.

You huffed frustratedly, spluttering, "I– this– this isn't about Jeongin, and this isn't about Heeseung either. can we just move on from this already?"

"You know it's okay to miss him, right?” Hyunjin says, his voice soft. “You’re not doing anything wrong."

"I never said that!" you groan again, raising your voice slightly. "I can’t suggest an anime because you guys assume I miss someone? Can I not do anything without you guys thinking it’s about a boy?!”

"Well, you never even mentioned anime once until now,” Seungmin points out, “the only reason you would is because of Jeongin—”

“It’s not about Jeongin!” you snap, burying your face in your hands in defeat. “God, I hate men.”

A chorus of offended ‘hey’s echo throughout the room which causes your eyes to roll.

"After all this time? after all these years, sugarplum?" Jisung gasps, his hand over his heart in feigned offense.

"Oh my god, you know what's not what I mean, Jisung," you huff, grabbing your phone from the coffee table as you stand up. "I'm going to get us more snacks, I hate this."

You carry yourself to the kitchen and from behind you, you hear Jisung call out, "But you haven't taken the bowls with you!”

Without turning back, you make a face to yourself. "I'll just get new ones," you respond blankly.

The kitchen was a break you so desperately needed. While you could still hear the boys chatting in the living room, it was just muffled enough to keep your mind at ease. you thought you could get away with Jisung not mentioning Jeongin, but maybe you had put too much faith in him.

You didn't mean it, really, but sometimes it got to be a lot.

You unlock your phone and staring back at you is a photo you knew you should have changed earlier, but something inside of you just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

It was an old selfie of you and Jeongin, one you had to beg him to take in the first place a few years prior. You both had your large winter coats on and his arm hung loosely around your shoulders as you both grinned into the camera. In the picture, you had a light blush on your cheeks—presumably from the cold—but deep down you knew otherwise.

You brought up his contact. This photo was one where he isn't looking at you, but he’s still holding up a peace sign. Just the look of it and the memory of that day flashes in your mind, making you chuckle.

Clicking on the text conversation, you're met with the last text you had sent him months and months ago, the small seen tick making you frown.

I miss you... you type out the words slowly. Your thumb hovered over the send key, but you can’t bring yourself to press down.

The glassy feeling in your eyes appears and you blink the tears away rapidly as you let your finger fall on the backspace key, completely erasing the message before you lock your phone once more.

What you didn't know was in his dorm room, bundled up in blankets like a burrito was Jeongin as he hopelessly scrolled through his phone. he had stumbled across a photo of Christmas lights that reminded him of you, and it took every ounce of his being to stop himself from sending it to you, finding himself scrolling through your message history instead. How could he text you so casually after what he did? Afterjust leaving like that without so much as a proper goodbye?

He watches your typing symbol come up at the bottom, only to have it disappear moments later—leaving him just as despair-ridden as you.

21.

You lost track of how long you had been cuddling against Yeonjun’s chest as Die Hard played on the tv. You had wanted a Christmas film, an actual Christmas film, however, Yeonjun was adamant that this did, in fact, count, as it happened around Christmas day.

You gaze up at Yeonjun, your eyes lingering on his own. You smile at how much focus he has on the movie, to the point where he’s hardly blinking.

You originally knew Yeonjun from your neighborhood, which kind of makes things go full circle for you in a way. Him being an older kid, though, meant that you never had a reason to know him personally or even have a chance to talk to him. He stuck with his group, and you stuck with yours.

But in a weird twist of fate, you met again when you got a part-time job at a small family restaurant just off of your university campus. After a few awkward conversations and some catching up, you both seemed to warm up to each other and Yeonjun soon asked you out on a date… you happily said yes.

Yeonjun is amazing. He's patient with you, smiles at you like you light up the whole sky, looks after you when you feel ill, he takes you on adventures at midnight for snacks just because you mentioned you were hungry.

He’s, on paper, your dream guy. Handsome, understanding, open and caring. You like him, you really do. Yet, it always feels like something's missing—but you can never put your finger on what.

The end credits of Die Hard roll across the screen, causing you to lift your weight from off of Yeonjun and stretch your arms out around you.

“I should get home,” you yawn, causing Yeonjun to pout slightly.

He reaches out to grab your hand as he whines. “Do you have to?”

You match his pout, nodding your head slowly. “Yeah, I should get back before it snows.”

“You don’t have to,” Yeonjun muses, and you watch the corners of his mouth twitch into a hopeful smile. “You could… stay over for Christmas? What do you think?”

Your breath hitches at his words, stiffening like a board as you stare at him with wide eyes.

“Stay… over for Christmas?”

He seems to notice the hesitation in your voice, and he begins to rub gentle circles with his thumb on the back of your hand.

“Think about it,” Yeonjun continues, “waking up together on Christmas day? It would be so cute!” he grins. You could practically see the tiny hearts floating about his head.

Stay over for Christmas. He doesn't know about it, but the whole sentence makes you feel uneasy. The implications and everything they bring with them—not to mention all the memories they invoke—are too much for you to handle at that moment. Not that you’d be the first to admit it

“I— I shouldn’t,” you start, your heart hurting as Yeonjun’s lips twist into a frown. “Baby, Soobin’s here and I don’t want to make things awkward for you by intruding.”

Yeonjun sits up suddenly, his fingers linking with your own. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, plus he enjoys your company. Not as much as I do, obviously,” Yeonjun cheekily grins at his words, sending a wink your way.

You huff a laugh. “Regardless,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “I... I don’t think I feel comfortable staying here yet.” Your own frown seems to match his. “So I'd rather get back before it starts snowing.” Your shoulders drop and you focus on his fingers that are busy playing with your own. “I’m sorry.”

One of Yeonjun’s hands moves from your fingers and delicately slides against your cheek, guiding your head so you’re looking up at him. Whilst you can see hints of sadness behind his eyes, his smile is one of comfort and understanding.

“Don’t be silly.” His smile grows. “I like you and we can go as slow or quick as you want.” His hand moves from your cheek as he lightly brushes your hair out of your face. “Don’t be scared to tell me, we’ll work through it together.”

Your heart swells at his words and you lean into his touch, placing a small kiss on his palm. “You’re too sweet to me,” you mumble.

He disagrees. “No, it’s just the decent thing everyone should do, They're your boundaries, I’m not going to be an idiot and push them.”

“How did I find you?” You wonder aloud. His cheeks tint red and his smile somehow grows even wider than before.

“No, no, how did I find you?”

Your foreheads lean against one another, and you can feel his breath ever-so-slightly tickle your skin.

“Can you guys stop being disgusting now?” a voice huffs from behind you two.

You and Yeonjun jump apart from each other and you turn to see his roommate, Soobin, standing with a scowl plastered on his face, an empty cereal bowl in hand.

Yeonjun grumbles to himself, muttering ‘You're just jealous,’ as he grabs your hand, guiding you past Soobin and towards his dorm room door. At the same time, you quickly call out a goodbye to Soobin and Yeonjun sighs sadly when you both stop at his door.

He pulls you close and you can feel his body heat seeping into you. It almost, almost, makes you want to stay, as you would rather be in the warm arms of your boyfriend than face the ten-minute walk home in the cold.

“Text me when you get home?” Yeonjun asks into your shoulder and you hum in response.

“I will."

Before you pull away completely, Yeonjun places a light kiss onto the side of your lips, leaving you open to steal one right back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” this time Yeonjun is the one to hum. A small smile plays at his lips. “I love you.”

You still for a moment at his words. You should say them back—you know you should—but you just can’t. They’re on the tip of your tongue and yet you fall silent instead. You settle for stealing another kiss from him and reaffirming your words from earlier, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You can tell his smile is dripping in sadness, but you're unable to bring yourself to utter the words he so desperately wants to hear back from you. You look back and wave for a final time before you exit the hallway that leads you to the elevators and out of the building.

When you finally make your way outside, you take a deep breath; it feels almost like a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders. The pressure of staying over with Yeonjun is gone. But now in its place is another burden you’re not ready to think about. It had started creeping into the back of your mind the moment he said those words—a reminder of times gone by. Of another boy with dark hair and eyes that sparkled and those same, fateful words.

As you walk home, you shake your head, trying to push back the tears already threatening to cloud your vision. You’ve spent too long shoving down and ignoring those feelings just to ruin everything now by bringing them back up. You aren’t ready to think about it now and, as you look up at the clear, cloudless sky, you’re not sure if you ever will be.

It did not snow that winter. Not a single flake fell from the sky.

22.

After years of not going to the neighborhood Christmas party, it feels weird to be back.

The party happens to be at Yeonjun’s family’s house this year, and once Yeonjun found this out, he jumped at the chance to introduce you to his family. You couldn’t help but smile at the hope swirling in his eyes that day as he gushed about how much they’ll love you.

But being the sweetheart that he is, he definitely noticed the doubt swimming in your eyes. He tried his best to reassure you, telling you how sweet his family is and how excited they are to finally meet you.

That’s what wins you over, and now you’re here. The feeling of being home, or, at least, a few houses away from it, brings a warm feeling to your chest. To be able to spend it with your lovely boyfriend only deepens the feeling.

In a weird way, though, you notice bits and bits, just minor details that others seem to gloss over, that only tug at your heartstrings. From the movie playing on the flatscreen, to the gingerbread house tha’s about to be devoured by a wide-eyed seven-year-old, it brings this feeling of nostalgia that you can’t quite shake off. The more the night goes on, the more it seems to eat at you.

If you didn’t already think this was some weird full circle moment of sorts, you definitely do now.

Everywhere you look, all you seem to get is mirages of past times. Faint traces of Jeongin linger in the crevices of your mind. Even if it had been two years since you last saw him, he stuck to your memories like glue.

You tried your best to push those memories to the side—to push the ick you felt every time something that reminded you of those moments away, even if it did send a chill down your spine.

But Yeonjun just had to utter those words. “Want to stay over for Christmas?”

It made you physically pause, the words processing in your mind. Ten years worth of memories surf through your mind at lightning speed. The slight word change gives you the worst feeling in your stomach you have ever felt—it was like a huge pit of emotions had opened up inside of you.

You take a breath and exhale it slowly. “Do you mean stay for Christmas?”

“Stay for Christmas, stay over for Christmas,” Yeonjun sighs, “same thing.”

“It’s different,” is all you can mumble in response.

Yeonjun groans, leaning his weight onto his hands that are placed on the counter sides.

“One word difference.”

You snap to face him, a stern look making an appearance on your face. Your voice dripping with irritation, you say, “But there’s still a difference.”

You can cut the sudden tension that arises with a knife and it’s like that is exactly what Yeonjun chooses to do. He stands straight, turning to you, and you can see how tense his jaw is—like he’s been holding everything in, and how it’s now about to burst open at the seams.

“We’ve been together for over a year and you still can’t even stay over. And when I offer to spend Christmas with you because I know it’s your favorite time of year, you fight me on it.” Yeonjun runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Is it because I’m the one that’s asking?”

“What?” you gasp, shaking your head. “It’s just, it’s stay for Christmas. Not stay over, not stay with, it’s stay for Christmas.”

Yeonjun squeezes his eyes shut, hand still in his hair. All you can do is stare at him, waiting for what he says next. Once he does open his eyes, you can see the fogginess as in them, and when he speaks again, you feel like you’re being torn in two.

“But I’m not Jeongin, I can’t ask in the way he would.”

You open your mouth to speak, shocked at his words, but nothing comes out.

“What does Jeongin have to do with this?” You question. “I like you because you’re you, Yeonjun, not because you’re someone else.”

You both stand there, staring at each other and you can’t help but feel like neither of your words are sinking in. Like they were falling onto deaf ears.

“Well what about the snow?” Yeonjun suddenly asks. Had he been spending too much time with Jisung?

“Yeonjun, baby, it’s just the weather,” you look at him with soft eyes, but all it seems to do is break him more.

With a hiccup, he tries to keep his tears at bay, “Then how come it never happens when we’re together?”

You have to look away from him, not because you don’t care, but because if you look at him any longer, tears would spill from your own eyes. It would only just make everything harder than it already is.

Yeonjun’s sniffles fill your ears and from the corner of your eye, you can see him wipe his tears away. Even when he takes a few steps towards you and takes one of your hands in his, you’re still unable to look at him in fear of breaking.

“I’ll walk you home,” he whispers gently.

You gaze at the floor and nod your head, squeezing the hand that held yours. He squeezes it right back in a silent understanding. It’s like you hear both of your hearts cracking like glass in the silence, but it was unlike any type of heartbreak you had ever felt before…

It can’t compare to the heartbreak you had with Heeseung, or even the heartbreak you felt when Jeongin left. This is its own brand of heartbreak, one that would last and one that would carve itself into your heart, a cruel reminder that will follow you for all time.

The walk back to your apartment is a quiet one. Your fingers stay linked with Yeonjun’s, and every now and then, you’d squeeze each other’s hands to remind yourself of the moment—of the feeling of your hands entwined with each other.

When you’re outside of your door, it’s bittersweet and it’s heartbreaking. And when Yeonjun reluctantly draws his hand away from yours, you want everything to chase after it with your own.

This is when you finally look up at him.

His eyes are red and fresh tears have prickled up in his eyes as soon as they meet yours. As soon as you see his tears, your eyes quickly well up to match his.

“We should,” he hiccups. “We should take some time apart.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, sniffling away the sob that crawls up your throat. You feel Yeonjun’s light kiss on your cheek, and that sob defies you, escaping your lips.

When Yeonjun pulls away, he speaks softly, as if speaking any louder would break him completely. “We’re on different pages and we both deserve people who aren’t.”

His lips linger on your cheek, like a silent plea begging you not to let him move away, but to pull him closer. To tell him that you both could make whatever it is you called a relationship work.

But you don’t, and he soon pulls away, the warmth of his lips is quickly replaced with a damp, cold breeze.

You regret opening your eyes when you do because you’re met with Yeonjun’s own tears rolling down his face. With no attempt to stop them, Yeonjun hiccups and looks away from you.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N,” his voice strains.

As he walks away, you open your mouth to yell out for him, but nothing comes out when you try. You just watch as he slowly disappears down the hallway, his shoulders hunched, shuddering slightly every time a quiet sob escapes him.

You can’t tell if you’re lucky or not when you enter the apartment and realize that Jisung isn’t home. On one hand, you wouldn’t have to cry in front of him—on the other, you really don’t want to cry on your own.

You trudge your way to your room, a numbness overtaking your body. You crave the warmth of your blankets and can’t wait to let them hold you in comfort as you cry for the rest of the night.

When your blankets are secured around you and long after the tears have dried out, you sit there in self pity. Your phone is staring up at you, and you somehow find your way to your camera roll. An album of photos of you and Yeonjun sits right by your recents, and you’re hesitant to click on it. But you do, and the collection of photos from the past year and a half makes your heart wrench all over again.

You wish the relationship didn’t end this way as badly as he did, if not more. Yeonjun was perfect in every way—sweet, understanding, patient—yet, somehow, it still wasn’t enough to keep you two together.

“But I’m not Jeongin.” His words echo in your mind as you swipe through all of your selfies with him. He’s right: he’s not Jeongin. But that shouldn’t have mattered… right?

“I can’t ask in the way he would.” He can’t.

Or can he?

If he had not flubbed the iconic line, not even with the slightest one-word difference… would you be where you are right now?

You let your phone drop onto the mattress as you ponder. Burrowing yourself further into your blankets, you try to imagine Yeonjun saying the line correctly this time. ‘Stay for Christmas?’ he’d chirp, hope lighting up his beautiful brown eyes. ‘Stay for Christmas?’ he’d pipe, a pure smile pulling his soft lips upward.

But it doesn’t feel right.

No matter how you try to picture it, there’s something about those words leaving Yeonjun’s mouth that makes your stomach twist. As hard of a time as you gave him about getting the phrase wrong, imagining him getting it right almost feels worse.

Maybe he can’t pull it off like Jeongin can. Maybe he was missing the awkward little beat Jeongin always carried when he uttered those three little words. Maybe he lacked the sheepish glow Jeongin always seemed to have creep up his cheeks when he said it, regardless of how coolly he tried to pull it off. Don’t forget the way he’d stupidly wiggle his eyebrows at you, and the faint little giggle that followed as he scrunched up his nose in embarrassment.

It’s a charm you truly believe only Jeongin could pull off.

But it shouldn’t have mattered that much. Jeongin wasn’t your boyfriend—Yeonjun was. And it’s not like Yeonjun didn’t have his own charm to him. His was more classic romantic, per se—always showing up at your doorstep with roses and a sweet smile, surprising you with dinner, taking you out for midnight drives while you blast both of your favorite songs. He’s a true Romeo, a type of lover that only exists in the movies.

“But I’m not Jeongin.”

You can’t stop Yeonjun’s gut-wrenching words from haunting your mind. It’s like the toll of a bell, its low tone ringing in every corner of your skull, shaking every crevice of your brain. Really, it shouldn’t bother you this much.

For starters, Jeongin is no Romeo. You’ve witnessed him try to be one firsthand—multiple times, actually. The keyword here is ‘try’.

There really were no suave, overly romantic elements to Jeongin, like there were for guys in the movies. He doesn’t need big gestures like flower bouquets bigger than your head to show that he cares. It’s all in the details, the smaller things he did, how he knew you nearly better than you did yourself. Taking you to see the lights all those years ago meant more to you than any grand movie gesture ever could have. Ultimately, he doesn’t need anything else because he is enough as it is. It’s a thought that slowly crept in over time and you never even noticed until it hit you like a brick. He’s not picture-perfect, but that’s not who you want him to be.

He’s just… Jeongin.

A part of you wants to admit it, but maybe, just maybe, he and stay for Christmas were what pushed your love for Christmas and the winter season more. But now that he isn’t here, that’s why it isn’t the same.

Because is there really a Christmas without Stay for Christmas?

The longer you stare at the folder, filled to the brim with photos of you and Yeonjun over the course of your relationship, the more unbearable it becomes. Your thumb hovers over the back button, soon letting fall against the screen.

Scrolling away as far as you could from it, another folder that instantly causes a mountain of flashbacks appears. Giggling at the joke title you named the album, you stare at it for a moment. You aren’t sure when the last time you looked at this album was.

As soon as you click on it, you’re hit with a wave of bittersweet nostalgia so hard, it almost hurts.

It’s a compilation of photos of you and Jeongin, dating back to when your parents handed you your first smartphone. You’re able to scroll so far back that you can find photos of Jeongin in that obnoxious purple sweater. Somehow, as you look at it in that moment, it doesn’t seem as obnoxious as it used to be…

Maybe it had grown on you, like stay for Christmas had grown on Jeongin.

And how pictures of Christmases before (and all-year-round photos) made your heart seem to swell in a way you hadn’t felt in a while. All the lights that grazed your presence when you were with him, all the longer-than-necessary hugs you two shared in the snow, even the thoughts, the memories of it, are like little static shocks sending metaphorical butterflies swarming around you. It plays at your chest like a flute and it makes you begin to wonder… if the thought of Yeonjun or actually being around Yeonjun, or even his touch, made you feel that way.

You’d think since Yeonjun is—was—your boyfriend, you wouldn’t have to think so hard for the answer. Yet here you are, comparing everything you felt with Jeongin to how you felt with Yeonjun over the past year.

It opens up the box of feelings you’ve tried so hard to push away. This time though, there’s no stopping it as everything bubbles up and spills over.

You continue looking through the photos of you and Jeongin, hardly noticing when the pictures start to blur slightly, fresh tears making their way down your cheeks. You missed him, you missed him so much it makes your chest hurt. There’s no denying that anymore, not that there was ever a point to it anyway. You missed everything about him, how he knew you like the back of his own hand to how effortless things had been between you two for so long.

A teary smile makes its way onto your face, unable to stop the overwhelming warmth that tore through you as you gaze at one photo of you two. Jeongin had an arm slung over your shoulders, braces-covered smile beaming up at you from the screen. You had a grin to match, happy and effortless, without a care in the world.

That’s how Jeongin had always made you feel, even during times when you had disagreements or fought over stupid things. At the end of the day, you always made your way back to him. Because ultimately, nobody else could make you feel the way he could—like you were safe, like you were home.

Eventually you ran out of photos to look through, and somehow you made your way to your messages, scrolling through and rereading old texts from Jeongin.

i miss you… you type out, take a deep breath, and hit send.

Instantly, he responds, making your heart swirl treacherously. i miss you too.

A second later, another text appears from him, making one last wave of tears pool in your eyes. stay for christmas?

The timing truly couldn’t be any worse than this, but you can’t deny the real reason behind your outburst anymore. All the seemingly-random bursts of butterflies in your stomach when you were a teenager slowly start to make sense. All the times your heart would skip a beat whenever he looked at you a certain way, the telltale sense of warmth you felt when you were even around him; heck, the entire incident at the winter formal—it all adds up.

There’s no denying who your heart yearns for anymore. And, if given the choice, there’s no denying which dark-haired boy you would live everything with all over again. No more running away, only running back to him—if only fate would let you.

wouldn’t miss it for the world.

23.

“Why so glum, chum?”

You barely move your head from where you’re curled up on the sofa to look at your roommate as he bounces into the living room. His overly energetic skips come to a halt right behind you and he looms his head above you, letting the corners of his mouth drag into an exaggerated pout.

You let out a slow breath and stare back at him with solemn eyes. The weather had dropped to the all-too-familiar December chill, rainbow lights adorned the city—heck, you’re watching A Charlie Brown Christmas for the third time in a row—but you can’t seem to will yourself into the Christmas spirit even if you tried. The reason seems pretty obvious to you.

For better or worse, the boy tapping his fingers on the back of the couch as he waits impatiently for your answer is one you’ve known for years. Over time, he’s morphed from the awkward older kid that ‘needs to take a couple babies under [his] wing’, to a sweet (when he wants to be)—dare you say, mature (again, when he wants to be)—older brother figure of sorts. If anyone knows why you’re so somber as you wallow in candy cane wrappers and your favorite ugly Christmas sweater, it should be him.

“You know why,” you grumble.

You think that’s enough of an answer, but Jisung bends down to get a better look at you and attempts to pry more.

“Hmm, do I?”

Another, more irritated huff leaves your parted lips as you turn to Lucy mercilessly grilling Charlie Brown, and you make damn sure your back is to your snoopy roommate.

Why do you even need to explain yourself to him? Jisung has literally had a front-row seat to the entire story since before he knew how to part his hair properly. He watched you slowly and hopelessly fall for your best friend before his very eyes since you were sixteen. He witnessed you delude yourself into a bottomless pit of denial for years, pushing yourself down so far that not even the most picture-perfect guy could pull you out.

Your life might as well be a sappy romance anime unfolding right in front of him, and Jisung knows every minute detail, every moment of development, every tear you shed for Jeongin like the back of his hand. He could whip up a play-by-play of your history with that boy faster than he can for the plot of Your Name—and he loves that movie.

But you guess as the older brother figure, it also means he has to annoy the living hell out of you for it. Not that he didn’t in the first place, but usually he’d, you know, comfort you when you’re upset.

Waddling around the couch to plop next to you, with overdramatized puppy eyes boring into your soul, is not that comforting.

“Come onnn, Y/N,” Jisung sing-songs, poking at your cheek. “Talk to me.”

Your frown etches further downward. You don’t do anything to move his hand, though, and opt to just turn your head back to the Peanuts characters.

“Cheer up, sugarplum.” Jisung now squishes your cheeks in one hand like a doting mother. It earns a whine from you, and you finally slap his hand away.

“Jisung.” You sigh, keeping your eyes on the TV. “I’m really, really not in the mood for celebrating Christmas this year.”

It makes your heart ache to actually admit it out loud, but you’d be lying if you tried to say otherwise. Christmas will always be your favorite time of the year, but all the memories you carry with it hurt too much now. It’s all a gaping hole in your stomach that you can’t patch.

“I know, I know,” Jisung says simply, but a heart-shaped smile slowly forms as he speaks. You blink as you stare blankly at him—you don’t like that sparkle in his eye.

That suspicious grin only widens as he utters his next words.

“That’s why we’re hosting a Christmas party next week.”

Your heart stops for a second, and you stare at Jisung with wide eyes.

“We?!”

You’re sure Jisung senses the aggravation in your voice. You already, and very blatantly, you may add, have made it clear that all you want for Christmas this year is to wallow in your blanket burrito and watch whatever cheesy film Hallmark was putting out.

But of course, Jisung won’t let that happen. You know he means well, but you still wonder for a second why you agreed to move in with him once he graduated and came back home from college.

“You know this is my apartment, too, right?” you add.

“I know, but just trust me!” He beams, and it only makes you scowl more. “Oh, wait…”

His phone flashes on, a notification popping up on his lockscreen, and whatever it is seems to elate his already excessively cheerful mood. You peer over his shoulder with curious eyes as his thumbs fly across the keyboard, but Jisung places a palm to your forehead and pushes your head away before you can get a glimpse.

“Nuh uh, that’s private!” He tuts, and you frown at him again. As he slides his phone back in his pocket, the cheesy smile returns to his face. Once again, you’re not a fan.

“I need you to trust me, okay?” he says. “It’ll be fun! It’s just gonna be you, me, and our closest friends. Promise.”

You’re still not super on board with the idea. Even a small hangout seems too much for you right now, and you can practically feel the flashbacks from the last few years haunting your mind as you think.

“I… I don’t know, Jisung.”

“If I give you hot chocolate right now, would that influence your decision?”

You watch as Jisung turns around, whipping out two to-go cups from right next to him. A small smile makes its way to your face as he hands you one.

“I’ll think about it,” you mumble, taking a sip of the warm drink.

The gesture is surprisingly enough to make you say ‘yes’ a few harrowing (for Jisung) hours later, and that’s how you find yourself at your and Jisung’s “Christmas Eve Eve Spectacular”. Why Christmas Eve Eve? Who knows, but you did hear Jisung mumble something about being able to go to your neighborhood party in peace. Weird, especially when he seems to know that it’s on Christmas Eve this year.

Regardless, you think you did a good job of decorating the apartment for the occasion. Besides the small Christmas tree in the living room themed red and gold, you and Jisung had wrapped matching garlands above the curtains and hung wreaths on your bedroom doors. Your couch was adorned with throw pillows you had gotten on sale a week ago, and, because you didn’t have a fireplace, you opted to hang the stockings right above the TV instead. It’s very homey, yet screams young and broke at the same time.

The entertainment is even better. Something about Frosty The Snowman playing on the TV while a bunch of grown men yell at each other playing Twister just feels very college Friendsmas-esque to you. The best part? You’re in charge of the spinner. You can get your daily dose of Christmas cartoons without being trapped under a bunch of loud, sweaty guys.

“You’re cheating!” Hyunjin accuses Felix, slapping his hand from the yellow dot.

“It’s not my fault you don’t know what yellow means!” Felix yells back. He slams his hip into Hyunjin’s side and makes him topple over.

The taller boy gasps dramatically, pointing at Felix as he lies on the floor. “Now you really cheated, asshole!”

You snicker and shake your head at the boys’ shenanigans. You’ve nearly forgotten about the sour mood you were in just days ago; maybe giving in to Jisung’s incessant begging was the right decision.

Speaking of Jisung, he doesn’t seem too into the Twister game, and he’s usually one of the most competitive of the bunch. He was the first one out this round, claiming he “accidentally stumbled” on Seungmin’s hand as he “reached for the wrong dot”very early in the game. Weird.

From the corner of your eye, you can see him fervently checking his phone instead of watching the game, and sometimes, you’d catch a smug smile painting his face briefly before he quickly snaps back to a neutral facade. You’re tempted to snatch the boy’s phone from his hands and read whatever the hell is making him smirk so much.

After a moment, you focus back on the game. Seungmin and Felix are the only two left. Both are at the brink of collapsing, their entangled arms wobbling under them, and you’re placing bets with Hyunjin on who will fall first.

Felix’s arms give out first, after attempting to contort around himself and Seungmin as he stretches for a red dot. He groans out in pain, and you unceremoniously shove five dollars into Hyunjin’s hands as he revels in his victory.

“Thanks for the early present, Y/N,” he says, smiling cheesily.

You make a face akin to a grimace and roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I want a rematch!” Felix’s voice audibly cracks as he whines, lying in a starfish position on the floor.

“Why did you try to go under and not over me?!” Seungmin remarks with an incredulous stare.

Hyunjin snickers. “That’s what she said.”

You smack him on the chest as the other boys groan. “Oh shut up, Hyunjin!” You hiss, shaking your head at the very mature joke. “We can do a rematch, though, but it’s up to you two,” you add, pointing two fingers at Felix and Seungmin.

Before you bend down to fix the bunched-up Twister mat, you turn to Hyunjin one more time. “And no more dirty jokes!”

The doorbell rings through the small apartment, making a look of puzzlement cross your face. You know you aren’t expecting anyone besides the boys that are already here, so you look to Jisung to see if he is.

“Did you order takeout, Ji?”

Jisung shakes his head at you, but a small smile graces his lips. “Nope.”

You blink. “…Did you order a package?”

He chuckles lightly. “One could say that.”

The growing gleam in his eye makes you furrow your brow more. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His small smile morphs into a Cheshire-like grin.

“Why don’t you get the door and find out?”

You stare at him with a twisted face as you slowly get up. You really, really don’t like that sparkle in his eye.

Your stomach jumps with uneasiness as you make your way to the door. Part of it was due to Jisung’s odd phrasing, but regardless, you’re almost terrified to find out what lies on the other side. You just cross your fingers and hope it’s a terrible gift at best that you can pretend to like.

Your hand shakes as you slowly twist the top lock open, then the bottom. Then you pull the door open, and you feel your heart rattle in your chest at the sight.

“…Jeongin?”

You feel like you’re dreaming as you stare at the boy in front of you. Jeongin has a comfy, dark purple sweater over a white hoodie—an actually decent shade of purple that’s pleasing to the eye. He runs a hand through his messy black hair as he smiles at you, letting out a deep but nervous chuckle when he realizes he’s just fluffed his hair up more. He’s grown it out since you last saw him, and his bangs perfectly frame his face, some strands falling in front of his eyes.

You feel the breath sucked out of your lungs. Not because he looks good (but you’re not denying that), or because you pick up a hint of sandalwood and amber lingering from him that nearly makes you dizzy—but because you feel all the memories from over the years flood in all at once. First come the good memories, and there’s tons of them. The several times you played hooky with him, the night he took you to see the glittering lights… the day you first met. It all brings a warm feeling to your chest, sending your heart fluttering as a light blush coats your cheeks.

But right after the good, you’re brought back down to earth with the bad. You’re fortunate that the bad is so little compared to the good, but the night before he left for college so suddenly is one you just can’t erase, no matter how hard you try. Memories of concerned glances and the surging feelings of regret and heartbreak make themselves known once again. Every moment of longing and the mixed feelings of wanting to reconnect with him, to be by his side again, causes your insides to twist in uncomfortable ways.

You can’t tell if you want to yell at him after leaving and not telling you himself, or if you want to run into his arms and never let him go.

Say something, Y/N, your mind screams at you as you remain frozen in place. But what are you supposed to say to someone so dear to your heart, that also happens to be the reason it’s ached for all these years?

You draw in another breath, and you stammer out the first thing that comes to mind.

“H-Hi.”

You mentally slap yourself. That’s all you have to say? You have been yearning for this moment for three years, and all you can come up with is ‘hi’?

Luckily, Jeongin seems to reciprocate, mumbling a “hey” back with an awkward wave, but you still want to kick yourself for your pitiful attempt at a greeting.

You turn around to see Jisung visibly deflate at the interaction. It’s clear now that he’s had this surprise planned for a while, and all his offhand murmurs from the past week about ‘getting the band back together’ are starting to make much more sense.

He blinks, and in a moment’s notice, his frown is gone and he sweeps in to save the moment.

“Jeongin, come here, my honey sweet!”

You chuckle fondly as Jisung smothers Jeongin with bone-crushing hugs and excessive hair ruffles. It’s just like when you were all awkward tweens and teenagers in the school hallways, except Jisung wasn’t randomly popping up behind you two, and you were all considerably shorter. You forgot how much you missed that.

“We’re about to play another round of Twister,” Jisung chirps after a minute, his arms still securely around the younger. “But I think Hyunjin, Felix, and Seungmin all want to go against each other, so you can go next round.”

Hyunjin cocks a brow. “No, they just said everyone can joi—”

“No they didn’t, Hyunjin,” Jisung bites back through gritted teeth, and sends the blond a look that makes him cower back to the living room.

Once Hyunjin leaves the room, Jisung turns to a confused Jeongin. “Y/N’s spinning. You can keep her company, maybe catch up a bit while you’re at it?” he suggests.

Jeongin smiles lightly, but he’s shoved into the living room with you in tow before he can verbally respond.

You’re both unceremoniously pushed into your tacky Christmas pillows, and Jisung hands you the spinner. He even does the first spin for you, and sends you a wink as he moves to sit by the window.

You just blink, waiting for the arrow to come to a full stop. “Seungmin, left foot on blue,” you call when it does.

As Seungmin is stepping onto the end blue circle, you spin the spinner again, nibbling on your lip anxiously as you feel Jeongin’s body heat radiating onto you. It makes you want to squirm, and you try your best to keep your eyes on the spinner.

“Felix, left hand, red.”

Felix mumbles to himself, but you’re not sure what as you’re not really listening. Once he settles on a dot, you flick the spinner again.

Jeongin clears his throat and fiddles with his fingers in his lap. “How have you been?” He attempts—keyword: attempts—to ask casually.

You’re so focused on watching the spinner, all you do is hum in response. When the spinner slows and stops, you clear your own throat. “Jisung, right foot, green,” you call out, “and… alright,” you mumble afterward. “I’ve been alright, you?”

He watches you as you flick the plastic arrow again. “I’ve… I’ve been okay…”He trails off like he wants to say more, but he remains quiet.

“Hyunjin, left hand, yellow.”

You’re not sure how long you guys sit there silently for, but your insides feel like they’re trying to claw their way out of you. Maybe ten minutes of silence feels like ten hours, and you desperately pray for the game to end so you could do literally anything else.

If only your thirteen-year-old self could see you now. Maybe you were too dramatic that Christmas, because you are sure this just took the throne as The Most Awkward Conversation Of Your Life™.

Out of nowhere, a loud gasp booms over Michael Bublé’s “Have A Holly Jolly Christmas”, the boys’ shouting, and whatever cartoon autoplayed after Frosty ended. Everyone’s heads snap to Jisung, who stares with sparkly eyes at the world outside.

You lean past Jeongin to get a glance. Light gray skies, slow-floating crystals, fluffy white blanket… it makes you break out into a grin. So does Jeongin, who smiles fondly as he pats your knee. The move makes you want to do backflips.

“Oh my god, snow!” Jisung cheers, already scurrying for the door. He mutters something about it being ‘just what he needed’ as he zips past you and Jeongin, but quickly turns on his heel when he sees neither of you move a muscle.

“Um, hello?!” the older boy chastises you and Jeongin, tossing you your coats and hitting you both in the face. “It’s the first snow of winter, what are you doing?!” He claps his hands for emphasis, but not before he shoves a pair of mittens into both your hands. “You need. To see. The snow.”

You exchange a knowing look with Jeongin but follow Jisung’s hasty instructions. Neither of you seem to move as fast as he wants you to be, so he does the job for you by hurriedly, but carefully, pushing you both down the stairs and to the lobby.

Jeongin presses his lips into a thin line, stepping closer to you as Jisung dashes back up the stairs to get the rest of the group. You smile back politely, but say nothing else.

You turn back to the stairs at the sound of Jisung’s voice bouncing off the walls. Whether he knows you two could hear him or not, you don’t think he cares, considering that he’s already yelling at the top of his lungs.

“SEE!” He motions around himself widely. “I TOLD YOU IT’D SNOW WHEN THEY WERE TOGETHER!” A dopey smile covers his face as he holds his hands up to his chest, like he himself had just miraculously fallen in love. “It’s like magic!”

Judging from a quick glance behind you as you make your way toward the front doors, Hyunjin seems to fully indulge in Jisung’s antics, smiling brightly and hopping up and down as they bound down the stairs. Felix and Seungmin, who trail behind them, don’t seem nearly as amused.

“Jisung, bro,” Seungmin blinks, “It’s literally just the weather.”

Jisung’s smile drops instantly and he glares at the brunet boy, pointing a finger at him. “No! You had to be there for everything, trust me! I’M NOT CRAZY, WATCH!”

The listless look doesn’t drop from Seungmin’s face as he follows his overly chipper friend downstairs.

Jeongin snorts, lightly bumping his shoulder into your own. “He’s still on that?”

You open the front door for the both of you, rolling your eyes. “He never stopped, seriously.”

The cold air hits you instantly and you’re glad Jisung gave you your gloves to wear. You scan the area around you and the only other people in sight are a group of children across the street. The ever-growing white blanket in front of your apartment complex is all yours and Jeongin’s—anything’s free game.

Unfortunately, the delicate, white crystals fluttering down around you do nothing to help the tension looming between you both. It followed you out of your apartment like a dark storm cloud, and now it’s raining on your snowy parade. You hate it. But you don’t know how to get rid of it.

“Sooo…” you start, and just as quickly trail off. “What now?”

Jeongin just shrugs, watching a snowflake fall to the ground.

You sigh, mostly to yourself. Looks like you’re going to have to take the lead. You begin to roll up a ball of snow, making it bigger and bigger in hopes of building a snowman.

The bigger and more round your snowman base gets, the more that the little rain cloud between you and Jeongin seems to shrink away. Even though you haven’t said a word to the boy and nearly forgotten he was even there, something about playing in the snow together in silence is… healing. It’s therapeutic in its own right, the soft crystals somehow bringing a feeling of warmth to your chest as you bring out your inner child.

Just as you’re finished with the top body part and you’re lifting it up ready to place, a sudden impact of cold, wet snow hits the back of your neck and begins to slither down your back. This results in you dropping the snowman’s body and you gasp as it breaks apart into heaps on the floor.

Turning around, you pout as Jeongin looks at you with a cheeky smile playing at his lips. He looks away, whistling innocently and shoving his hands into his coat pockets. Your glare hardens and you quickly pick up the precious bit of used snow, squishing it into a ball before lobbing it in Jeongin’s direction, just barely missing his left arm.

“You need to work on your aim,” Jeongin remarks cockily, and you scrabble another snowball in your hands.

Throwing the haphazardly-made snowball in his direction, his laughter fills your ears and makes the butterflies in your stomach fly. You duck as his own snowball is about to hit you, and it just skims the back of your head.

“This is war!” You glare at your best friend. “You made me mess up my snowman!”

“Why focus on your snowman when you can focus on me?” Jeongin laughs, making your heart speed up again.

You hide behind the pitiful remains of your snowman and hold your hands to your cheeks. Sure, you were in a war, but you couldn’t let him see that his words affected you. You could have blamed it on the cold, but would Jeongin really believe it?

“You can’t hide forever,” Jeongin sings, his voice getting nearer and nearer.

Keeping a watchful eye over your shoulder, you attempt to make a bunch of snowballs as you try to will the color on your cheeks away. You try to calm your breathing, suppressing any giggles that threaten to come out as you grow your small pile of ammo.

As you scramble to prepare for whenever Jeongin plans to pelt you with snowballs, all your worries seem to melt away. Adrenaline rushes through your body as you hear Jeongin’s boots crunch in the snow, but you also feel a wave of calm wash over you. It’s just you, Jeongin, and the white blanket of snow surrounding you two. Just like when you were little.

You missed this.

A small giggle escapes your lips as you peer over your shoulder one more time. Jeongin doesn’t seem to be sneaking up on you—in fact, he’s nowhere in sight. You turn around and let out a sigh of relief. You’re safe.

Until you notice Jeongin towering over you, smirking deviously.

“Did you miss me?”

You let out a squeal, backing yourself against your crumbling snowman as you frantically chuck snowballs his way. He seems to be unfazed by it, only chuckling as the snowballs split into pieces as they hit his chest, and he steps closer to you.

Soon, you’re resorting to flinging pathetic scoops of snow at him as you try to scoot back. You’re in a fit of giggles as he inches closer, your heartbeat quickening his pace as you chuck one more blob of snow to hopefully deter him.

It strikes him square in the face.

Your jaw drops in surprise, and you can only watch as Jeongin wordlessly wipes the snow off his face. You search his face for any sign of hurt, fearing you might’ve gone too far, but you only find a mischievous glint in his eye.

Oh no.

You gulp as he drops to his knees and continues to close the gap between you, his smug smile growing wider. A nervous giggle escapes your lips as you watch for his next move, and you grab another handful of snow in your mitt to get ready to fight back—then you feel his fingers at your sides.

“Jeongin, stopppp~!”

You’re unable to control your laughter as Jeongin mercilessly tickles you. Any attempts at pushing him away are quickly proved fruitless by a shove of his hand, and you’re left thrashing around helplessly as he continues to torture you.

You’ve practically been thrown into the pillow of former-snowman behind you by the time Jeongin sits back and lets you go. Gasping for air, you let out another giggle as you watch him bend over, hands on the snow by either of your sides as he catches his breath as well.

The air around you falls silent as you stare up at him. You search his face again, your chest heaving up and down. You can’t find any more signs of incoming mischief, but you find his soft gaze staring back at you, and the rosy color pricking at his cheeks. You assume his blush is from the cold, but you know yours is from otherwise.

Another few seconds pass and Jeongin still hasn’t tormented you. A smirk slowly spreads across your face as an idea sparks on your mind.

Before you can even think it through, you spring up, arms outstretched as you pounce in his direction. He has no time to react before you tackle him, fingers going to his sides as you tickle him and get your sweet revenge.

“You asshole!” You shriek in between giggles.

It’s now Jeongin’s turn to try to shove your hands away as he scoots back, an endless stream of giggles escaping his mouth as well. Hearing his laughter ring in your ears makes you laugh more in turn as you shuffle after him. You both grapple around for a moment and eventually land on the ground, you on top of Jeongin, your legs all tangled together.

You tickle him for another second when you look up and pause. It’s then that you realize just how close your faces are to each other, and suddenly, you forget how to breathe. Everything goes still for a moment as you stare at him with wide eyes. One more movement and you’d be kissing him.

You pray that Jeongin doesn’t feel your heart hammering against your ribcage as you’re pressed up against him, but you can’t help but wonder if his heart is doing backflips in his own chest.

Unable to take the thoughts swirling inside your head anymore, you roll off of him and onto your back, looking up at the sky. Tiny snowflakes fall around you in a light, gentle flow, but a steady one—it almost feels reassuring. It’s like the universe is sending you a message, in its own special way, that everything will be alright.

You take a deep breath and look over at the boy next to you. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he blinks, wide eyes gazing up at the snow. A couple snowflakes seem to fall on his face and he scrunches up his nose as he giggles. A fond smile decorates your lips as you watch him, and you feel your heart quicken its pace once again.

Another moment passes and Jeongin turns his head to you. “What's wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

You shake your head and start moving to stand up. “It’s nothing, just…” you trail off, unsure what to say next. You hold out a hand to help him to his feet as well.

The two of you stand in silence for some time. You take a small step closer to him, and you can’t deny the way your heart swells in your chest as you take in the scene around you. The snow seems to dance around you two, swirling around gently as if the crystals are casting a gentle spotlight on you both. When your eyes land back on Jeongin, you note the snowflakes that dot his chestnut hair and perfectly complement his slightly messy curls. It’s adorably awkward, but he looks cozy, like… almost like home.

He turns his head to look at you and gives you a smile that sends warmth spreading through your whole body. There’s a gentleness to his gaze as his eyes meet yours, and the way he reaches over to move a strand of hair away from your face nearly makes you melt. A faint blush dusts his cheeks as he steps closer to you, closing the distance between you two, and you hope he doesn’t notice your already rosy cheeks glow a deeper red.

“Stay for Christmas?” he whispers.

There’s no helping the grin that grows on your face at the familiar words.

“Just come here.”

You can hear the squeals of the children across the street (and Jisung from behind you), but you feel at peace as you lean up to wrap your arms around Jeongin’s neck. A small chuckle reverberates through you as you feel him snugly hug you back, and you tuck your head in his shoulder.

You still don’t believe the snow is the seasonal deity that Jisung swears by, but something about the way it gently cascades down feels like it’s wrapping you both in a warm blanket and reassuring you that you’re okay. That you’re home. As Jeongin gently rests his head against yours and sways the two of you back and forth, you realize that this was what you were missing the whole time; not only in your old neighborhood, but during the time Jeongin was away.

Turns out the magic you always felt during this time of year wasn’t just in the snow. It wasn’t just in the whimsicality of Christmas cartoons, or your utter fascination with the holiday lights, either. It’s the feeling of comfort that comes with it, the feeling of knowing that someone who cares about you will be there to do it all with you a thousand times over. That special feeling that only Jeongin has been able to give to you all these years, even if it’s awkward at times, even if you’ve consumed one too many cups of hot chocolate for his liking… the feeling of being home.

You realize that Jeongin is more than just your best friend and your longtime crush—he’s home. And if it takes a bit of snow to realize that, that’s magic enough for you.

24...

Christmas has changed a lot since the previous year with you and Jeongin officially being back at best friend status—not that he had ever left. But just knowing he’s finally home is enough to rekindle your affinity for the holidays that you’ve been lacking for the past few years. Now it’s finally here, and the fire inside you is burning brighter than ever.

With it being a newfound tradition in the Y/Nsung household—funny enough, you actually coined the name—your apartment this year is once again the main headquarters for all things Christmas festivities. And this time, it’s on Christmas Eve. You thought it’d be fitting, considering your shared history with Jeongin over the date. Like last year, you took care to decorate the apartment to a T, pretty garlands and shades of red and green glistening all over the living area.

The party had very much been a success, with only a few disagreements (read: screaming matches) between Hyunjin and Felix about who was actually better at the chosen game, and who was, in fact, cheating. You suspected both of them cheated at some point, but decided staying silent was probably the better option.

And after a hearty meal of Chinese take-out from the 24/7 open restaurant, the three boys, minus Jeongin, called it a night and headed out for the comforts of their warm beds. You could still hear Hyunjin and Felix arguing as they left, with a sulking Seungmin behind them, grumbling something about having to listen to them all the way back to their hotel.

You close the door behind them and turn to your best friend. He’s standing rather close to you, making your heart speed up slightly. The small smile that covers his face leaves you feeling comforted, loved.

It’s crazy how much can happen in a year. The awkwardness you feared would persist after being apart for three years had melted away after Jeongin (and Jisung) surprised you with his return, after that impromptu snowball fight that set your heart alight. You two spent the following few days doing some much-need catching up, and now, you’re closer than ever. It was like he never left home. Or, rather, like you were finally home.

“I thought you would have gone with them,” you mention, your own smile playing at your lips.

Jeongin shrugs, opening his arms out wide, indicating his need for a hug. “Just wanted to spend more time with you.” You giggle, shuffling into his arms. “Without all of the yelling,” he finishes his sentence as a mumble.

“Yeah,” you sigh into his chest. “This is much nicer.”

Maybe it’s weird to say that you feel something in the air shift. Or maybe it was the way Jeongin subtly changed his grip on you, but something seems different all of a sudden.

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out softer than you expected, but when Jeongin holds you tighter and just sighs, your suspicions become elevated.

He lets his arms fall from you and he slips one hand into your own, leading you back into your living room. An uncomfortable silence sifts between you two.

“Jeonginnie?” you finally say after another moment.

“I need to talk to you about something.” He frowns, pulling you down so you’re sitting next to him. “It’s serious.”

A frown of your own instantly takes its place on your face. Jeongin sits there, his gaze on your one hand in his lap, and he plays with your fingers in hopes of calming himself down.

“And I need to tell you because I don’t want what happened before to repeat itself.” Jeongin explains. “I don’t want to go however many years to go by again because I didn’t tell you myself.” He continues, now looking at you.

Eyebrows furrowed, you gaze at him. “Jeongin, what’s going on?”

“I… I got a job offer…”

You’re about to open your mouth and congratulate him, then he finishes his sentence, finally looking you in the eye.

“…but it’s two cities away.”

If Jeongin listened carefully enough, he could’ve heard your heart crack in your chest.

“Oh…”

He nods his head solemnly. “My parents are flying out with me tomorrow night to go check out apartments.” His gaze falls back to your hand that’s on his lap, and his voice grows softer as he continues to explain. “We’ll be back by New Year’s, but… once we settle on a place and sign the lease…”

“…You’ll be leaving again,” you quietly finish his sentence, your voice wavering at the end. He nods once more.

It’s like you were nineteen all over again, but this time, you had Jeongin in front of you—almost softening the blow. All the emotions you felt after he had left the first rush back to the surface all at once, and you nearly feel like you’re drowning.

But you stuff it all down. You shove it back in the crackling dam that is your heart, at least for the moment. You can let out your frustration with the world when Jeongin goes home. Not now.

Be strong, Y/N.

“We can still text,” you begin, your voice filled with hope—at least, you pray that’s what comes across. “And call and FaceTime.”

The sides of Jeongin’s lips turn up into a small smile. Slowly, he moves his hand so it’s wrapped in yours, entwining your fingers together and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“We will.” He looks up at you again. “I just wanted to be the one to tell you this time.”

You squeeze his hand back. Your heart races. “I appreciate that.”

A thick, heavy silence spreads across the room. You’re too focused on gazing into Jeongin’s eyes to care about the world outside of your little bubble with him. But your heart cries out, not wanting the moment to end. Not when this could be the last night you see Jeongin for a while.

You want to hold his hand and hold him in your arms and never let him go. But you know you can’t do that. Not when this job could be a big deal for him, not when it could change his whole life.

So you let the warmth from his hand seep into yours. You let your head fall onto his shoulder. You let the butterflies fly in all directions at the sight, and feeling, of his sweet gaze on you. The one you’ll miss so dearly when he’s gone.

The one you’ll cherish for as long as you can.

“YAHOOOO!!”

A loud yell echoes throughout the apartment, causing your stares to break and Jeongin to drop your hand. With the yell coming from the only other known person in the apartment, you silently think of the ways you’d hurt Jisung in his sleep tonight for ruining the moment.

Soon, a trail of slamming doors and footsteps are heard, growing in frequency and volume as they get closer and closer to the living room. Then the living room door swings open and slams against the wall, Jisung’s hand stopping it from bouncing back and hitting him in the face whilst he prances into the room with the largest gummy smile you've ever seen. His cheeks are all pink and he looks like he could burst into happy tears at any moment.

“Guess what, my babies!” he sings, maybe a little too lively, “Looks like your guardian angel came to the rescue, Jeongin’s not leaving tomorrow!”

Blinking, you sit there, your lips twisting into a confused grimace as he dramatically wipes the corners of his eyes with his sleeve. You want to wholeheartedly believe your fanatical roommate. You wish so desperately for this to just be some bad dream you’re about to wake up from. But the way your heart continues to squeeze in your chest, even as Jisung skipped into the room so cheerfully, tells you all of this is real. The idea that a last-minute Christmas miracle is about to turn things around sounds too good to be true.

You’re about to interject and beg Jisung to explain, but he beats you to it, sensing the skepticism on your and Jeongin’s faces. “Look outside!” He feverishly points to the window. “You’ll see what I mean!”

Lifting your head off Jeongin’s shoulder, you exchange confused looks with the younger boy as you both get on your feet. He leads the way to the window by your front door, blindly reaching behind him for your hand and connecting your fingers when he finds it. You notice Jisung wiggling his eyebrows at you and almost let go to make him stop, but Jeongin lightly squeezes your hand before your fingers can slip away.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you push the blinds to the side, and you hope Jeongin doesn’t glance your way and notice. Luckily, he’s too occupied with gaping at the scene outside. And so are you.

It is, in fact, snowing—and it’s snowing hard. Wind howls against your thin apartment walls as the icy flakes come pouring down, a thick, white fog blurring your view of the street below you.

“Wow…” you mumble to yourself. In the fifteen or so years since you’ve moved, you’ve never witnessed a snowfall this hard. Let alone on the first snow of winter.

“It’s snowing like this all over the country,” Jisung remarks, showing the two of you the weather report on his phone. Jeongin scrolls through the list with one finger and, to his horror, the city where his new job is located is there.

“You know what that means?” Jisung continues, a small smirk on his face. “No leaving, at least for a few days.”

You keep your gaze out the window, your spirits brightening at the news. As selfish as it was, you could barely control the surge of happiness bursting inside you at the thought of having Jeongin around for a little while longer.

Maybe a Christmas miracle is possible.

You completely miss Jeongin’s loved-up stare as you look back at him, a concerned frown on your face. “What about your flight tomorrow?”

He shrugs, rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of your hand. “I’ll figure something out,” he mumbles.

He steps closer to you, and you swear you see sparkles in his eyes as he gazes into your own. You forget Jisung is there as the taller boy leans down until your noses are nearly touching. A small smile grazes his features as he whispers, a gentle but playful timbre to his voice:

“Stay for Christmas?”

“I– um– uh–” you sputter at the sudden close contact, your eyes widening in surprise. You take a second to breathe and recompose yourself before you try again, sheepishly gesturing to the window, “I don’t think you have a choice.”

You carefully watch Jeongin for his reaction. He seems to lean forward, inching his face even closer to yours, and you feel your breath get caught in your throat.

The boy squeezes your hand and leans his forehead against yours, a shameless grin on his face as he flashes you a wink.

“Fine by me.”

You pray that he can’t hear your heart pounding in your chest, or that he doesn’t mention how red your cheeks are. You note the pink tint dusting his cheeks as he steps back, in case he decides to tease you for the latter. Despite your embarrassment, the shy giggle that slips out his mouth still makes you smile.

Jisung suddenly breaks the moment with a dreamy sigh, a hand flying over his heart. “And it’s all thanks to snow!”

You roll your eyes dismissively. “How much longer are you going to keep on about this magic snow?” you ask, causing Jisung to snort.

“As long as I want, Miss Tuxedo Effect.”

You can practically hear the shit-eating grin on Jisung's face. You drop Jeongin’s hand as you snap your head to the older boy, throwing a scowl his way.

“‘Miss Tuxedo Effect?’” Jeongin questions, an eyebrow raised as he looks between the two of you.

If your cheeks weren’t already as red as a tomato, they surely are now. “Don’t ask,” you grumble, swiftly heading to the kitchen to try and evade his prying. To your disdain, he follows you like a lost puppy.

“What’s he talking about?” he asks again. When Jisung, who’s treading behind you two in amusement, goes to open his mouth, you glare him into silence.

“It’s nothing.”

That seems to shut your overly curious best friend up long enough for you to pour yourself a glass of milk. The less Jeongin knew about the tuxedo effect incident, the better. You don’t need two boys torturing you about it, especially when the first one still refuses to let it go after eight years.

You watch him in silence as your drink heats up in the microwave, his eyebrows knitted together as he tries to search your and Jisung’s faces for answers. You maintain a poker face, but of course Jisung revels in Jeongin’s nosiness.

“Jeongin, think about it,” he hums, casually taking a bite of one of Felix’s cookies. You resist the urge to slap it out of his hand.

“Don’t,” you glower at him.

“How many times has she seen guys in tuxedos?” Jisung continues, his cheeks casually puffed up with food.

“Depends,” Jeongin looks to his friend and shuffles closer to you, “are we counting movies?”

Jisung snorts, nearly spitting out a chunk of chewed-up cookie. “Don’t include movies!” He covers his mouth with one hand as he gulps the bite down. “You’ll never narrow it down if you do!”

Your jaw drops in offense as the boys fill the kitchen with giggles. “Hey!”

An embarrassed flush creeps onto your cheeks again and you turn to pull your mug out of the microwave. You take a sip of the warm milk as you stew quietly, waiting for their laughs to die down.

“Okay, okay, seriously,” Jisung pipes up after a moment, stifling another giggle. “If you just look at high school…” he glances at you, his mouth quivering into a teasing grin, “she’s only seen guys in tuxedos, like, three times.”

“It was more than three!” You exclaim defensively, placing your mug down before you list off… every single time you’ve seen a boy in a suit.

You can’t believe you’re having this conversation.

“There was junior prom,” you hold up a finger, “senior prom,” you hold up another finger. You hesitate, then add, “the one time I went to homecoming—”

“Hey, that homecoming one doesn’t count!” Jisung protests. “You volunteered for extra credit!”

You groan and throw your hands up in defeat. Okay, maybe it was only three times, but you’d rather do anything else than admit it..

“Then what else is there?!”

Jisung shoots you a challenging look, eyebrows raised as one corner of his mouth threatens to twitch into a smirk. Your exasperated look immediately drops. You know, Jisung knows… and a quick glance at Jeongin tells you he just figured it out.

“Don’t tell me it was the formal?” The taller boy watches you with wide eyes.

“Jeongin!” you whine.

He gasps, a hand slapping over his mouth as he leaps over to smother you.

“It was!”

His name escapes you once again as you use his shoulder as a way to try and shield yourself from the embarrassment—and him seeing the bright red tint currently burning your cheeks.

“You thought I was cute when I wore that oversized suit?” he chuckles, letting his arms go around you.

“Shit up,” you continue to whine.

Jeongin’s deep chuckle basically vibrates through you, it makes the butterflies in your stomach scatter. Your ear tingles when you feel his hot breath brush against it.

“If it's any consolation, you looked really good, too.”

You smack his chest and turn your head away from him in hopes of him not seeing your blush. It fails miserably.

“Oh my god, you’re blushing so hard,” Jeongin coos, using his free hand to try and get you to face him again. “Look how cute,” he hums.

With his fingers on your chin, you shut your eyes tightly. There was no way you could look him in the eye and have a rational thought. Not now, not when he was being so open and—dare you say it—flirty with you.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumble, your eyes still closed.

On the contrary, you don’t know how much more your heart can take. You don’t even have to open your eyes to know Jeongin is still smirking his ass off.

“You don’t mean that, right, Miss Tuxedo Effect?”

Your eyes snap open, your jaw tightening in an attempt to glare at him. He did not just go there. But at this point, with this new cocky attitude, why did it even surprise you he’d stoop so low?

“You—” Your mind lapses and you’re unable to finish your sentence.

Jeongin tilts his head slightly, his smile still crooked. “You?”

Maybe it’s by sheer luck on your part or utter stupidity on Jisung’s, but a small noise makes you both turn and look at the older boy, who has his phone held up at the two of you.

click.

He backs away slowly, retreating to the living room door. “You'll thank me for these later.”

Rolling your eyes, you stare at him. “Why? Because the magic snow told you so?”

Jisung gasps, pointing at you with a glare.

“It’s not magic snow, it’s fate and I’ve already proved it enough times!” He yaps on. Huffing, he crosses his arms over his chest and his eyes narrow at you. “By the way, Jeongin will have to sleep in your room.”

You freeze at his statement and feel all the color drain your face.

“Uh…” you gulp. “Why?”

“Well you see,” Jisung starts. His eyes flutter around the room, unable to stay on you. “The… the pull-out is broken!” He snaps his fingers before pointing at you. “Yeah, yeah, last time Hyunjin was here, he totally ripped it to shreds, sugarplum.”

You blink slowly. The last time Hyunjin was here was last month, and Jisung was using the pull-out last week just fine.

“It’s just so broken now,” the older boy continues on his tangent, making a tsk noise and shaking his head. “He said he’d replace it, but he hasn’t yet, so it looks like Jeongin is going to have to bunk with you.” Jisung tries to laugh as he shrugs his shoulders.

“Uh…” you repeat.

It’s not that you didn’t want to share your room, let alone your bed, with Jeongin. He’s been your best friend for fifteen years—if there’s any guy on the planet you are comfortable doing that with, it’s him. Not even Heeseung or Yeonjun reached that level with you.

But even though you and Jeongin are attached to the hip, you two were never this close. Especially not when your parents shut down every attempt to stay for Christmas growing up. Why didn’t they just let you two do it? Surely, if they did, this wouldn’t be making your palms sweat as much as they are right now.

That wasn’t the only issue now, though. Not when he could be moving away any day now, if it weren’t for the blizzard outside. Not when it took you this long to realize what you would give for him to stay.

Not stay for Christmas. Just stay.

“I can sleep on the normal couch,” Jeongin suggests, breaking your train of thought. Jisung feverishly shakes his head.

“No!” He yells, his eyes wide. “I mean, you can’t, it’s so uncomfortable, you’ll have a bad back. It’s better to share with Y/N!”

Jeongin’s cocky attitude seems to dissolve in seconds. His smirk melts into a small sheepish smile, the tips of his ears turn pink, and he can barely look you in the eye.

“Is that okay?” he asks in the smallest voice ever.

It’s now or never, Y/N.

“Sure,” you smile. “It’s fine.”

Jeongin shuffles out of the room, leaving you to glare daggers at the boy who’s gone back to nonchalantly snacking on Felix’s leftover desserts.

“You are so full of shit,” you grumble, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks again.

Jisung just gives you a tilted smile mid-munch.

“Would it help if I said the snow told me to do it?”

You slam your hand on the kitchen island, throwing your head back in despair and frustration. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“I didn’t, the snow did!” Jisung yells after you as you stomp out of the kitchen.

As Jeongin hogs the bathroom and gets ready for bed, you replay your words over and over in your head as you pace back and forth in your room, creating a small draft. ‘It’s fine’?! Are you crazy?! It’s not fine. It’s not fine at all.

Why did you agree to let Jeongin sleep just centimeters away from you? Is it too late to back out and hide in Jisung’s room for the night? If anything, Jisung deserved it for a multitude of reasons, the primary one being his ongoing snow escapades. You don’t know why you didn’t try fighting back on that earlier.

Running a hand through your hair, you heave out a sigh and flick the lights off. You pull your duvet up and shuffle under the covers, bunching the blanket around your chest and letting your arms rest on top of it. A strange feeling swirls in your stomach as you stare up the ceiling, and you truly think about what you just signed up for.

After fourteen years, you’re finally getting that Christmas sleepover you and Jeongin have been joking about since you were ten. Well… the one you’ve been joking about since you were ten. Jeongin started it, then attempted to forget it existed for a while, then he started joking along with you. However, at some point… it didn’t feel like you were joking anymore.

You don’t remember when, specifically—if there even was a specific moment. You just remember that at some point, despite years and years of endless teasing on your part, you genuinely wanted this sleepover. With all the roadblocks you two had endured during your childhood and teen years, though, you thought it’d never happen.

And now, here you are.

The soft click of the door opening causes you to look up. Light from the hallway floods into the room and Jeongin smiles warmly at you. His hair is fluffy and he still has a few drops of water on his forehead from washing his face. He smooths out his oversized black t-shirt a little as his eyes meet yours, then he looks down and dusts off his gray sweatpants. You can’t help but smile fondly at the sight.

His smile fades into something more timid as he closes the door behind him and shuffles over to the bed. Before climbing into the covers, he looks at you, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Is this…” he hesitates, “Are you sure this is oka—”

You chuckle, gently cutting him off. “Just get in the bed, Jeongin.”

A bittersweet feeling cascades over you as he tucks himself under the covers. It’s really happening. Your first Christmas sleepover has finally officially begun, after fourteen years of waiting. Somewhere in the back of your mind, though, you’re plagued with a brutal reminder that this could also be your last Christmas together. Ever.

You feel Jeongin move around a bit, soon settling and facing you. You shift onto your side after a moment, smiling tightly at him before letting your gaze drift out your window. Snow continues to surge down, and the wind rattles against the glass. If it weren’t for the dim glow of the streetlight outside, you wouldn’t be able to see a thing.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Jeongin mumbles after a beat. You don’t need more light to know he has a cocky grin on his face.

“I’m not even looking at you, dummy,” you scoff, pointing past his ear and out the window.

He turns his head around, following your finger. Once he lands his eyes on the window, his jaw drops slightly and nods in understanding. “I didn’t think it would snow this hard.”

His voice is soft but gentle, and it makes your heart skip a beat. You force out a chuckle in an attempt to ground yourself. “Should’ve known Jisung would’ve gone mad.”

Jeongin snorts, “He’s long gone, you know this.” He turns around again, the corners of his lips lifting up slightly. “But… at least I get to stay for Christmas.”

You can't help but smile back. “After all these years,” you muse.

“Yeah…”

A beat of silence. “Is this what you imagined it would be?” You ask, your voice quieter.

Jeongin purses his lips together, looking down for a second. “When I was ten? No.”

You both chuckle.

“I thought we’d be knocked out on the couch after eating too many cookies,” Jeongin continues before adding as an afterthought, “Well, after you ate too many cookies.”

You gasp in fake offense, lightly swatting at his chest. “Hey, you were just as bad!”

He scoffs, and another chuckle slips out. It’s like music to your ears.

Then another beat of silence.

“Was this what you imagined it would be?” He repeats your question back to you.

Your eyes meet his as you shake your head. ”No.”

It wasn’t… at least, not until you got older, but he didn’t need to know that.

Feeling some of the tension melt away, you and Jeongin continue to lie down next to each other in a comfortable silence. You aren’t sure how quickly you became accustomed to feeling his body heat seeping into you. In so little time, this image of Jeongin lying next to you, you want it burned inside your mind. The image of his hair so fluffy, you want to reach out and run your hands through it. The silhouette of him under the covers so cozy, you want to throw yourself into his arms.

How it had been a measly fifteen minutes, but this scenario with him… of you two being together… you want it forever.

“Are you okay?” Jeongin’s voice breaks the silence, as well as your train of thought.

You let out a sigh. “I… I guess.”

You can’t help but feel like this is some cruel twist of fate. That maybe the snow isn’t magical or special, but rather cruel and cunning—teasing you by giving you what you’ve always wanted, your stay for Christmas, only to rip it away from you so ruthlessly in a few days.

All of the words you want to say, that you wish you could say, becomes a bitter pill in your mouth. It leads you to wonder if it was worth spitting it all out, or if you should swallow and shove it down instead. If anything you say in this moment, if you tore your chest open and bore your heart out for Jeongin to see… would it really change anything?

You already know the answer, but it doesn’t mean you can’t try.

“I…” you start. “I don’t want you to leave.”

While you were lost in thought, Jeongin had shifted himself so he was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He exhales and you can practically see his breath in the air.

“Honestly?” he sighs. “I don’t either.”

“Then…” you hesitate. “Then can’t you just stay…” your voice shakes. “…with me?”

It feels weird not asking that he stay for Christmas, but you have that covered right now. You know it won’t last forever if you’re not careful, though, so it’s pointless to try.

So it’s not stay for Christmas, for once in your life. Just stay.

He rolls over onto his side so he’s facing you and he places his hand ever so near yours. “I wish I could. but hey, we’ll work it out.” He smiles reassuringly. “Just like you said, we can text, we can FaceTime, we can visit…”

Pushing your lips into a thin line, you nod. “R-Right. Yeah.”

Gently, he grabs your hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. “We'll make it work. We’re…” He pauses. You can’t pinpoint what in his eyes changes in the dark. “We’re best friends for a reason, remember?”

You sigh. “I… I guess.”

But was there a reason? Sure, you may have asked him if he wanted to be your friend when you first moved to the neighborhood, but you didn’t plan any of this. Nine-year-old you just needed a friend to ease your mother’s worries—you had no way to know what fate had in store for you two when you did get that friend.

Now Jeongin is way more than a friend to you. More than the awkward boy in an obnoxious purple sweater you met all those years ago. He's, to keep it short, home. And you don’t know if you can handle losing your way home a third time.

Maybe the reason was simply fate, because all of this—it just kind of happened. And now you’re stuck, unsure what to do next… or maybe you do.

You hesitate for one moment, then take a deep breath.

“But it— it’s more than that.”

You stare at your entwined hands, watching how Jeongin continues to caress the back of your hand with his thumb. Swallowing your nerves, you look up to catch his eyes.

Here goes nothing.

“Jeongin, I really don’t want this to mess up what we have, but I…” you pause. “I fell for you.”

You attempt to gauge his reaction. You can’t read the look in his eyes, but somehow, it urges you to keep going.

“I’m sorry this is so sudden,” you start again, your voice shaky, “it’s just— you’re such an important part of my life, you always have been.” You feel your eyes prick with tears. “And even when you were gone, I always found myself wanting to run back to you.”

You pause again, softly biting down on your lip as you struggle to swallow down your pounding heart. You take one more deep breath.

“It’s… it’s always been you, Jeongin.” Your voice cracks, a small whimper escapes your lips. Your eyes continue to well as the floodgates open in your heart, and you look down before you completely break. “I-I can’t lose you again.”

You attempt to blink your tears away, but a few manage to slide down your cheek, seeping into your pillow. Shaking your head, your lower lip quivers, and you choke out a sob.

“Y/N…”

Jeongin slips his hand out of yours and you try your best to calm your breathing. He slowly moves his hand up, gently brushing away a few stray hairs that stick to your face, and you look up at him through glassy eyes. Your vision blurs, but you sense a feeling of longing, an almost-bittersweet swirl of warmth and affection radiating from Jeongin as he gazes down at you.

As he moves to cup your cheek, wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb, the sound of your pounding heart rings in your ears. The sensation seems to fade into the background when he begins to speak.

“I fell for you, too. I… I have been for years, actually.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at his words. He smiles tenderly at you as you sniffle, wiping away another tear.

“It’s always been you, too, Y/N, and I hate that it took so long to realize it,” he breathes out after another moment. "If anyone should be apologizing here, it’s me.”

“Jeongin…” you mumble, but he shakes his head firmly.

“I never should’ve left the first time without saying goodbye.” The boy sighs, remorse pooling in his eyes as they meet yours. “It— it hurt so much to think about, but leaving you like that hurt even more.” His gaze drifts down for a moment and he slips his free hand into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. Smiling lightly, he looks back up at you, his regrets replaced with a newfound conviction. “I’m not letting that happen again.”

A new sensation overwhelms you: one of relief, of euphoria. It fills the empty gaps in your chest, and causes the butterflies in your stomach to take flight. It’s as if you had been stranded at sea for years and finally found land, as if you had one puzzle piece left before everything seamlessly clicked into place. For the first time in years, everything feels right. Jeongin’s gaze, so sugary sweet like honey, makes you crave more.

His smile widens, causing yours to do the same. “I guess we have one more reason we have to make this work, then, right?”

A small giggle escapes you so quickly that you can’t even catch it. Jeongin catches the few tears—tears of happiness this time–that slip from your eyes, before pulling you into his embrace, fully immersing you in his warmth. You hug him back tightly, tucking your head into his shoulder and never wanting to let go.

“I love you, Jeongin,” you whisper.

You feel Jeongin press a light kiss to the top of your head. When he pulls away, he reaches a hand up, gently cradling the back of your head as he brushes his nose against your hair.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

This image of you and Jeongin… all snuggled up, warm and safe in each other’s arms throughout the night... this feels right. This feels like home.

You’re home.

...to 25. (epilogue)

The bitter air churns around you as you step out of Jisung’s car, and you immediately regret not wearing a larger coat instead of just your cardigan. However, before you can pull it closer to you, you feel Jeongin slide his hand into yours, entwining your fingers together. Sighing contentedly, you lean into his shoulder and gaze up at him.

“You okay, there?” He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “I know I look dashing, but still.”

You scoff lightly. “‘M just cold, Jeongin.”

Smiling, he turns his head to face you, his breath warm against your ear.

“Okay, but try not to fall too hard for me, Miss Tuxedo Effect.”

Rolling your eyes, you use your free hand to hit his chest. “Shut up.”

His chuckles are like heaven in your ears. You want to hear more of it, even if it’s at your own expense. And you knew he was never going to let you live “tuxedo effect” down. Just like Jisung and his “sugarplum” ordeal, this was just another nickname you’d have to put under your belt—not that you minded much, not when you got to hear Jeongin laugh in the way he does.

Your attention gets brought back to him once you feel him squeeze your hand lightly. Your eyes linger on him and shift to the subtle light shining from your front porch. You notice how stiff he’s gotten, wide eyes staring blankly at your house like a deer in headlights.

“You okay?” you ask quietly, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb.

He sighs and hesitantly nods. “Just… nervous.”

You smile. Following the events from last Christmas Eve, Jeongin moved into his new apartment close to his job at the end of January. By the beginning of summer, he and Jisung helped get you a job closer to him so you could move in with your now-boyfriend.

Despite having an extra month together after Christmas, neither of you exactly… broke it to your parents that you two got together. You don’t remember if it just slipped your minds or if you two wanted to surprise them, but either way, they’ll find out in just a few moments. Given your history with the Christmas party and Christmas as a whole, you both agreed there’s no better place to break the news.

Getting up onto your tippy-toes, you place the lightest kiss onto his cheek, but pull away far too quickly in Jeongin’s opinion. “It’ll be okay.” You squeeze his hand. “I’m right next to you.”

He glances at you, a smile playing at his lips. “Always?”

You hum, nodding. “Always.” Then you give him a quick once-over and huff, a grimace twisting your mouth. “But do you really need to wear that?”

Jeongin looks down at his outfit, and his smile slowly grows more bashful as he fixes the tie of his tuxedo. Meanwhile, you’re left to painstakingly replay the events from five minutes ago in your mind.

The scene itself mirrored the one from when you were sixteen: Jisung in the driver’s seat, you in the passenger seat, and Jeongin trying desperately hard to get changed in the backseat, Mariah Carey taunting him from the speakers. Every now and then, Jisung tried to push his luck by jolting the car forward.

It was all way too similar, except this time, there was no sneaking Jeongin out of the house. Also, there was really no need for an emergency tux this time around. Yet, somehow, Jisung still convinced him to put it on.

“I just want to make a good impression,” you hear Jeongin squeak out a moment later. You look back at him and he’s frantically smoothing out his suit jacket, and a light pink blush dusts his cheeks and the tips of his ears. You have to restrain yourself from smothering the boy with kisses at the sight.

“Babe, you already have a good impression,” you chuckle adoringly, “you grew up here, remember?”

Your boyfriend gazes at you with wide eyes, uncertainty glazing his features. You step closer to him, taking his hand in yours again.

“It’ll be okay,” you repeat, allowing Jeongin to lace your fingers together. “And Jisung did not need to bring the suit with us.”

“But it’s an emergency tux, Y/N,” Jeongin says. “You have to keep it around you in case you need it, it’s in the name!”

“This isn’t even a fancy emergency!”

“But Jisung said it’s a romantic one! That counts!”

You let out a deep sigh, but you can’t be too mad at Jisung for trying to help. “Fine, fine.” You wait a moment then wonder aloud, “Speaking of, when do you think Jisung will get back?”

Since Jisung still lives in town, he welcomed you both back to his apartment with open arms and, in true Jisung fashion, an excessive amount of babying. He had taken the liberty of not only driving two cities away to pick you two up (he claims he came for a job interview anyway—you don’t not believe him, but you think he also just missed you two), but also dropping you both off at your house before driving off to get coffee.

Jeongin shrugs. “Who knows? He does love his coffee.”

You chuckle fondly. “He’ll catch up later.”

Pulling Jeongin by the hand, you lead the way up the pavement and to the confines of your house.

Even though it hadn’t been long since you were last here, you missed it dearly. You also missed the way your house was now adorned with Christmas lights. Every year, your dad always seemed to outdo himself with putting up better and better lights. You are sure he had been planning it since last year, that maybe he had already started on next year’s lights, too.

When you walk through your front door, you’re met with the smell of cinnamon and sugar cookies. There’s light Christmas music in the air and everyone is scattered around, laughing, drinking, and having a merry time. Your mom and dad are nowhere to be seen—you assume they’re in the kitchen somewhere, checking on guests or snacks. You figure you’ll bump into them eventually.

You find countless familiar faces in the sea of people. You see old families that have lived in the neighborhood since before you moved here, families that you have come to view as part of your own. You spot the kids you grew up with; some who are freshly-turned teenagers, and others who have since grown up and started their own lives. You even see Yeonjun, sharing a drink with his girlfriend.

While it was awkward between you at first, you both came to terms with what you had and what you were. You two loved each other, but not in the way that the other wanted or needed. He was a memory, carved into you like stone, but a cherished one that you will hold deep in your heart.

Your eyes meet and you both smile instantly at the sight of each other. His eyes glance back at the boy beside you and you can see how he laughs, his smile growing wider. His eyes meet yours again, he nods his head and you nod yours.

There’s no need for spoken words. You’re both happy, and you’re both happy the other is happy. Everything you two went through, from your journeys together to your journeys apart, has led you to this moment.

Ultimate happiness.

Jeongin pulls your attention back to him, leading you through small groups of people, and you turn back one final time to send Yeonjun a smile. When you look back around to see where Jeongin is guiding you, you see his mom sitting at the dining table, munching away on some snacks on a paper plate.

She looks up with a bright smile; you’re sure it’s where Jeongin got his from. However, her smile soon melts into confusion at Jeongin’s peculiar outfit. Rising from her seat, she pulls her son into a hug.

“Hey, sweeties,” she hums, pulling away from Jeongin after a second, keeping her hands on his shoulders as she looks down at his ‘emergency tux’. “Why are you wearing a tux? It’s just the Christmas party.”

“I told you,” you mumble from beside him.

He huffs, pulling and lossing the tie around his neck. “I just… it’s dumb.”

“No, no,” you pout. “You look great, don’t worry about it.”

Chuckling, Jeongin runs a hand through his hair, his eyes landing on you as he smiles.

“Of course you’d say that, Miss Tuxedo Effect.”

Rolling your eyes, you mutter to yourself as Mrs. Yang giggles.

“Well, for whatever reason you’re wearing it,” Mrs. Yang pinches Jeongin’s cheek causing him to attempt to pull away. “You look very handsome, honey sweet.”

“T-Thanks, Mom.”

Pulling on Jeongin’s hand, you fish into your bag, pulling out a pair of black jeans and an almost-obnoxious shade of purple sweatshirt. Dubbing them an ‘emergency change of clothes’, you now know you were right to pack them.

“You packed spare clothes?” Jeongin asks as you shove them in his hands.

Humming, you nod your head. “Of course, I knew Jisung would try and fill your head with some foolish idea.”

“It wasn’t…” You cut him off with a look. He doesn't finish his sentence.

He puts the jeans over his arm, pulling the sweatshirt out to see. You almost fail to notice the way the tips of his ears, once again, turn pink as he smiles.

“I thought you hated this color,” he laughs.

Pushing him forward and in the direction of the stairs, you concede. “Eh, it grew on me. Now please change.”

Jeongin continues to laugh as he struggles against you. “I’m going, I’m going!”

When he comes down a mere five minutes later, the now-discarded tux in his hands, you can tell he’s far more comfortable than before. He leaves it on the couch and takes his place beside you once again, slipping his hand into yours. This time, you take the initiative to thread your fingers together.

A gasp leaves Mrs. Yang’s parted lips when she notes the way her son beams down at you. A warm glow seems to encircle him, and you can almost count the specks in his sparkly eyes when you look up. There’s nothing but affection swimming in his loved-up smile—just pure endearment for you.

“Did you two?” She watches you two with wide eyes.

You and Jeongin suddenly look away from each other. Bashfully, you let your gaze fall to the floor, and you feel a tinge of red tickle your ears, but you don’t bother to let his hand go.

He doesn’t, either. He just squeezes your hand lightly as he nods, letting out a shy giggle.

Mrs. Yang gasps again, her hands flying over her mouth. Like mother, like son.

“You did!”

Without warning, she springs up from her chair. “Oh, I have to go find your father, now!” she gushes, pulling Jeongin into a bone-crushing hug. When she lets go of your startled boyfriend, she turns to you, squeezing you tight. “And your parents, too!”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle as you hug her back. When you both part, Mrs. Yang turns on her heel and scurries to the kitchen.

Jeongin snaps his head towards you as his mother’s figure disappears into the crowd. His lips twitch up to an amused grin—it only grows wider when you match his expression.

You shake your head to yourself, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. You feel Jeongin’s hand snake around your back, and you let out an exasperated sigh as he pulls you into his own hug.

“Parents, am I right?” he comments. His other arm hooks snugly around your waist, bringing you in closer. You shake your head into the crook of his neck as your own arms go around the boy.

“If that’s how your mom reacts, imagine what mine’s gonna do,” you mumble into his skin.

For better or worse, you’re quickly proven right.

“Ohhh, look how cute!”

You know exactly what happens next without even moving your head. Your mother, amidst her endless gushing about how she’s been “waiting for this day for years!”, scrambles to pull her phone out of her pocket, making a beeline straight for the camera app. Her mouth is probably gaping up and down like a fish, and she’s most definitely shuffling around the crowded space for the best angle. If your and Jeongin’s fathers were dragged along, they do nothing to stop her (not that they could to begin with, but still).

You don’t need to look up to know, and you don’t want to. You’d much rather her not see how red your face is, anyway.

“Okay, don’t move!” your mother orders. “One, two…”

“Mom!” you whine, burrowing yourself further into Jeongin’s sweater.

As your mother fulfills her need for pictures, Jeongin’s giggles ring in your ears. You try to focus on that to will your embarrassment away.

“Are you done yet, Mom?” you speak after a moment. A pout forms on your lips when she tuts.

“Uh uh, I need more!”

“You don’t have enough yet?!”

“There’s never enough photos!” A hearty, teasing laugh leaves her throat, chiming over the music for a second. “You know this, sugarplum.”

“Wait, so that’s why Jisung calls you ‘sugarplum’?!” Jeongin questions. He almost pulls back to get a better look at you, but you grip onto him tighter before he has the chance.

“Yes, and that’s my sugarplum!” Another familiar voice cries out.

Stepping back from Jeongin, you turn to see Jisung standing there with a childish frown on his face. He holds a take-out cup in one hand, and lets go of a girl’s hand to point at Jeongin with the other.

Wait… who’s the girl? You’ll have to get back to that.

“You’re her boyfriend, call her ‘baby’ or ‘boo-boo’ or something,” he adds, exaggerating his pout. “I claimed ‘sugarplum’ years ago!”

You roll your eyes. Technically, your mother claimed it first, but you know she’ll let Jisung go.

“Please don’t call me ‘boo-boo’,” you say, blankly staring up at Jeongin. Instead of responding, he reaches a hand up to pinch your cheek.

“Aww, is someone blushing?” he coos.

You push his hand away with a whine, earning a giggle from him and both of your moms. “Not you, too!”

The girl next to Jisung leans over to him and whispers something in his ear. You aren’t sure what, but the boy responds to her with an “I told youuu,” a whimsical ring to his voice.

Jeongin glances at the girl, then at you, his face twisted in bewilderment. All you can respond with is a shrug.

“Ah,” Jisung pipes up, sensing your confusion, and he gestures to the brunette next to him. “This is Lia.”

She gives you all a small wave, quickly looking down and smoothing her maroon sweater with one hand. You all exchange greetings back, and Jisung continues, a sheepish smile on his face.

“We met during college, and, uh, I ran into her at the cafe just now.” The older boy scratches at the back of his neck, and a rosy glow rises to his cheeks. “She told me she just moved here, actually, and I figured I’d show her around… make her feel at home, you know?”

A warm smile paints your lips. You think of when you first moved here, how the community welcomed you and your family with open arms. Even if your grumpy nine-year-old self didn’t appreciate it, your twenty-five-year-old self couldn’t be more grateful. “You’re gonna love it here,” you say to Lia.

Lia smiles back, and she seems to relax at your words. “Thank you.”

“Oh, aaaand,” Jisung cuts in again after a moment. He tenderly takes Lia’s hand in his, sending her a bubbly, heart-eyed grin as he swings their hands between them.

“Do you really have to open with this?” Lia says softly.

“Yes, I do!” Jisung squeaks, his voice jumping higher than normal. “They’ll get it, trust me!”

He glances hopefully at you and Jeongin, his eyes wide and bright. The two of you exchange confused looks with each other. What could he be talking about?

A second later, it clicks. Why else would Jisung be hopping up and down so eagerly, about ready to jump out of his hoodie any minute now?

“Don’t tell me you met during—” you begin.

“During the first snow!” Jisung finishes your sentence in a singsong. He tapers off with a dreamy sigh, and his eyes seem to sparkle more when they land back on an embarrassed Lia.

“He just means the second time around,” she clarifies with an awkward cough. “The first time was during spring.”

Your first instinct is to roll your eyes at your friend’s ongoing infatuation with the snow, but a fond chuckle takes its place. You had stayed up many nights talking with Jisung when you lived with him, the two of you sprawled out like starfish on your kitchen floor as you shared thoughts about the future, the simultaneous excitement and uncertainty of it all. If there was one thing Jisung was firm on, it was his hope that he’d meet The One during the first snow of winter, that the twinkling little snowflakes would be his guiding star to his person.

“Love at first snow,” was what he called it, “…you know, like you and Jeongin.” As much as you found the phrase irritating at the time, you never bothered to correct him.

But of course, it’s one thing to have hopeless romantic fantasies, and another to have them come to life. It’s kind of endearing, maybe heartwarming in a weird little-sister-figure way, to observe Jisung’s increasingly lovestruck daze as he relives the recent memory—you can practically see the hearts dancing around his head. But that’s not the point right now.

So this is the girl Jisung always texted you about during college.

You recall countless conversations about how pretty and smart and sweet she was, and even more of him blowing up your phone at three in the morning for date ideas (“the more aesthetic, the better! :D”). Even though he successfully asked her out, he still never let it go that they never saw the first snow together before they broke up.

Despite her embarrassment, Lia seems to mirror Jisung’s loved-up smile. From what he told you, they parted ways on good terms—something about both of them graduating soon and having different mindsets, he said, but they both agreed to stay friends. But something tells you that, even after all this time, they’re still on the same page about the first snow… and maybe some other matters, too.

You can see it in their eyes: the feverish look that makes their irises shimmer as they gaze at each other, the almost-overwhelming amount of affection that swims in their pupils and makes the corners of their lips twist up. You recognize it all too well—it’s the exact same way you used to look at Jeongin. Every once in a while, you still catch yourself doing it.

It’s nothing but fate, at this point, when you notice faint white pellets of snow are still hitting the window in your peripheral. An overjoyed smile of your own quickly overtakes your features, and when you look up at Jeongin, it seems like he’s thinking the same thing as you.

With an infectious giggle, Jeongin grabs your hand, but you sharply turn to Jisung and Lia before he can pull you away. Your boyfriend's small whines fall on deaf ears, and he childishly tugs at your hand as you try to get the lovebirds’ attention.

“Hey, do you wanna go see the magic snow or not?” you call out, half-teasingly and half-genuinely.

In a snap, Jisung’s lovesick daze flips into a triumphant smile as he turns to you. “So you admit it’s magic?!”

You roll your eyes, giving Jeongin’s hand a quick squeeze to calm his impatience. “I needed to get your attention somehow,” you say, “but just this once, I’ll admit it.”

The way your friend seems to light up like a Christmas tree is enough to make you give in. You do owe him for his stunt last year, after all—you’re more than happy to let him have this one.

“Now, do you want to go see the snow or not?” you ask after another moment, a small smile etched on your lips.

“Of course I want to see the snow!” Jisung chirps.

As he looks to Lia for her response, his puppy-love daze making a return, you allow yourself to take in your surroundings. The warmth teeming around you from the Christmas party is one that never gets old, no matter how many times you come, and no matter how long you’re gone. It brings a wave of peace to your heart, even as a couple of screaming children run a lap around you and your friends.

Your chipper boyfriend begins to pull you to the front door with him, making you lose your step for a second, and you find yourself meeting Yeonjun’s eyes from across the house one more time. Before you lose sight of him, you nod to the window several feet away from him, sending him a wink to him before you turn around. Even if you weren’t meant to be his love at first snow, the least you can do is make sure he got his.

By the time you look away, Jeongin has already pulled you both to the front door, Jisung and Lia already dressed and waiting for you two. Hastily, he throws on his coat before he scrambles through the pile of shoes by the doormat to find his own pair.

You’re about to do the same, then you realize…

“Right, I forgot my—”

“Your jacket?” Jisung calls out. Without another word, he digs into his backpack and tosses you the coat you left behind at his apartment earlier. You slip it on with a relieved smile, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before getting your shoes on and swinging the door open for all four of you.

Soft, puffy snowflakes dot the ground around you as you begin your stroll down the sidewalk. You hear Jisung and Lia’s musings behind you, but they fade into a quiet buzz as all the memories from your childhood flash before your eyes. The houses you pass by are ones you used to see everyday on the way home from school, and the sidewalks are ones you used to run around on during the weekends. You never would’ve thought you’d be back now, reliving it all with the people you love most.

It gets even better, though, when Jeongin nudges your shoulder, and points to a grassy area coming up ahead. You follow his finger and gasp, immediately recognizing the spot.

Reaching for his hand, you break into a sprint and pull the boy with you to the neighborhood park, the two of you almost tripping due to the slippery snow. The park is almost the exact same as it was when you first moved. Some parts had been upgraded over time, whereas others still seemed heavily used and loved by the younger children around the neighborhood.

Your eyes glaze around the small park and you could almost see a vision of nine-year-old you, standing near your mother as she pushes you to speak to the other children—to make some new friends. You could practically see nine-year-old Jeongin hanging upside-down from the monkey bars, adorned in that now less-obnoxious purple sweater.

You wonder what nine-year-old you would think if she saw where you are now, with Jeongin’s hand wrapped tightly around your own. You wonder what she’d have to say about the way your cheeks tickled pink, not only from the cold, but also from the way Jeongin’s gaze lingered on you for a moment too long, and the way his lips tugged into a soft smile whenever you looked back at him.

Tugging lightly on Jeongin’s hand, you lead the both of you over towards the monkey bars, his whines falling on deaf ears as you drop his hand from your grasp to climb up the metal bars. Once you’re sat down in the most comfortable position you can, the cold metal sending shivers down your spine, you beckon Jeongin to join you.

“Sit with me.” You smile down at him, one hand keeping you steady as the other makes grabby hands in Jeongin’s direction.

Jeongin huffs. “But it’s so cold.”

However, his words fall short when he still begrudgingly makes the small climb up. He lets his legs dangle through the holes, his knees knocking against your own lightly.

A gust of cold air causes you to shiver and as a response, you pull your coat closer to you. This seems to make Jeongin chuckle fondly, and you feel his eyes linger on you for a second before he looks out at the horizon. The falling snowflakes glisten under the remnants of the sunlight, and the holiday lights emit a breathtaking glow. You’re both still not tall enough to see much above the houses in front of you, but that’s okay—you know what lies beyond it.

“You know, I never thought we’d be back here,” you mumble. A giggle escapes you as you watch the stars slowly make their appearance above you.

Jeongin has a giggle of his own as something on the monkey bars catches his eye. “I can’t believe it’s still here,” he continues to laugh, causing you to redirect your gaze.

“What do you mean?”

He runs his fingers lightly over the faded black ink scrawled across the top of the monkey bars.

Y/N and Jeongin, 2010.

“No way,” you gasp, trying your best to lean over to see it better without falling. “I thought they replaced the park equipment years ago.”

Looking up at you, Jeongin smiles. “Obviously not all of it.”

He fishes around in his pocket for a second and before you can question anything, he pulls out a black marker pen and unclips the lid.

“What are you–”

Your sentence goes unfinished, however, when he leans over and adds a small section under his own nine-year-old handwriting.

And forevermore.

Your heartstrings are played like a violin as you watch Jeongin cap the pen back up, a pleased smile etched on his lips. When he finally comes back to reality, noticing your gaze, he shrugs.

“What?” he says. “Had to add it and make it official.”

“We’ve been official for a year, I don’t think the monkey bars would mind.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes, a chuckle escaping him. “What if some kids read it? Surely, they’ll love to know the story has a happy ending?”

If you weren’t afraid of falling, you would have jumped on him, showering his face in the most kisses possible. However, for both his and your safety, you opt for words instead.

“I love you,” you breathe, beaming at him. You’ve never said anything more true in your life.

His smile mirrors your own. “I love you too.”

You look back at the sky as Jeongin shoves his pen and hands back in his pockets, the dopey grin on your face growing wider, if that was even possible. Another giggle escapes you when you feel a drop of snow hit your nose. This is everything to you—it’s ultimate happiness.

But there’s one thing missing.

“I can’t believe I forgot,” you say, your gaze falling back down.

Raising an eyebrow, he looks at you in curiosity. “Yeah?” he responds, and you stare back with a cheeky smile.

“Stay for Christmas?”

Jeongin shakes his head, but his giggles still fill your ears, sending your heart into shockwaves of emotions, like the ripples after a stone hitting the water. The tips of his ears as well as his cheeks glow pink under the streetlight that has just flicked on. You can’t tell if it’s from the cold or from you, but you wish for it to be the latter.

“You know you don’t have to say that anymore, right?” Jeongin asks, gazing at you with a look that makes it hard to catch a breath.

“I know,” you exhale, “but it’s basically tradition now, it’s a must.”

“Well, tradition or not…” Jeongin begins. He slips his hand from out of his pocket to grab and entwine your fingers with his own. His heat seeps into you as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. “…I’m here to stay.”

He uses his other hand to tap lightly on the recently-added handwriting, his words echoing around in your ears. “Forevermore.”

Your eyes are all soft and sparkly as you smile at him, giving his hand a squeeze before letting the air around you fall silent. A contented sigh escapes your parted lips, forming a faint puff in the cold air as you watch the fluffy, white crystals above you flutter down.

Jeongin started off as a mere stranger, nothing but the awkward boy in an ugly sweater. Sixteen years later, he’s sitting with you atop the same monkey bars upon which you two met as so much more. He’s your best friend, your childhood playmate, your built-in Mario Kart partner. He’s your teenage crush, your love at first snow, your stay for Christmas—and all that only you two know it entails.

Perhaps, most important of all, Jeongin is home. And as long as you have Jeongin, you’ll always know your way back.

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the-cult-of-russo · 1 year

Text

Such a Softer Sin (Part 15)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: I’m not specifically tagging this one, if you’ve seen the show, nothing will shock you. Smut will happen eventually so minors DNI, thanks.

A/N: I really enjoyed watching the meltdowns that happened after the last chapter lmaooo

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Your eyes fluttered open and your body felt heavy as you lay curled on your side. You felt content and happy and you had no idea why. You felt like you’d actually had a good night's sleep for once. You yawned as you shifted and there was an ache between your legs that made you frown. Suddenly, a barrage of memories burst behind your eyes and your eyes widened as you sat up quickly. You’d had sex with Billy. Your head whipped to the side but he wasn't there and you blinked at the empty spot in the bed for a moment. You couldn't remember it all, just bits and pieces like a puzzle you couldn't quite complete but you knew you'd definitely slept with him. He’d been in his rut and you hadn't left. You couldn't work out if you regretted it or not. From the snippets you remembered, you knew it had been amazing and you'd enjoyed it, but at the same time, you found a pang of guilt in your chest for your future mate. You’d always planned on saving yourself, even if they never turned up and now that hadn't happened. You knew it was your own fault though because you hadn't left. You should have as soon as you realized he was in his rut, that’s what you would have done if it was Kos. You knew you only stayed because of the pull you felt towards him, how you often found yourself thinking of him. Part of you already wanted this, this had just been the push over the edge. You felt a little disappointed that he wasn’t here when you woke up. It had been your first time and while you knew you would have been embarrassed, you were pretty sure he would have made you feel better about it. It was a little disconcerting waking up alone in here and you hoped he hadn’t regretted it. Maybe he felt bad now, maybe he felt like he’d taken advantage of you or something. You knew he hadn't though, you’d had plenty of chances to walk away and you chose not to. You knew you’d need to speak to him, to make sure he was okay with what happened and if he wasn’t, to try and salvage the friendship because you really didn't want to lose it. This was exactly why you had avoided this in the first place.

You heaved a sigh before you stood up, wincing slightly at the uncomfortable feeling between your legs as you walked into the adjoining bathroom to relieve yourself. You weren’t quite sure how to approach him about this now, not knowing how he felt about it all. It made you feel a little vulnerable if you were honest and you hoped he just wasn't here because he was King and he had more important things to be doing than lounging around in bed. When you were done, you moved to wash your hands and as you finished, you glanced up in the mirror. You blinked at your reflection in shock because your face wasn't the thing that attracted your attention, but the very obvious bite mark on your neck was. Your brain couldn't quite comprehend what it was looking at for a moment and you pressed yourself closer to the sink, tilting your head to look at it better with horror all over your face. You couldn't remember him doing it and he sure as hell didn't ask, you knew you’d remember something like that because no matter how drunk you were or how dazed by his scent, you definitely wouldn't have consented to this. Your shock turned to blind rage as you glared at the offending flesh on your neck and you felt like someone was squeezing your heart in a vice. You couldn't believe he’d mark you like this, to put a claim on you he had no right to make. The betrayal you felt was scathing and your body shook with the force of it. You’d allowed him to be your first despite everything you’d told him previously and he’d marked you up like a piece of meat. You felt sick, your mate wouldn't want you now even if he did show his face. You were claimed by another, you felt tainted, ruined and disgusting. You’d really thought he was your friend but now you didn't know what to think. Was this his intention all along? Had the whole thing been a lie?

You wiped your eyes angrily, storming into the bedroom as you threw on your clothes. Fury coursed through your veins as you left the room and stalked to his office and you felt sorry for anyone that might get in your way on the way there. You didn’t think you’d ever felt so angry or betrayed in your entire life and most of all, you felt so fucking stupid for thinking he actually just wanted to be friends. That he cared. You didn’t knock when you got to his office and you didn’t quite give any fucks about him being King, not anymore more. You pushed the door open so hard it hit the wall and almost flew off its hinges and Billy was sitting behind his desk looking slightly disheveled but dressed.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” you bellowed, eyes on fire as you glared at him. He had the most contrite look on his face you’d ever seen anyone wear and it was then you noticed he wasn't alone in the room.

“Maybe we should leave,” Frank murmured to Karen who looked on with wide sympathetic eyes. Curtis and Micro looked uncomfortable as they looked from you to Billy.

“No, you should stay. Have you heard what he’s done to me? That he marked me up like a piece of cattle?!” you seethed, your hands trembling by your sides in clenched fists. Your eyes cut back to Billy then, the betrayal written all over you and you barely registered the others leaving and closing the door. Billy stood from his chair, looking at you with tearful eyes and he looked hurt. Hurt he had no right in feeling because you were the victim here.

“I can’t believe you did this to me,” you muttered, hating how your voice wobbled and made you sound more sad than angry and his face fell even more.

“I trusted you! I thought you were my friend and this is what you do?! I know what we did last night was my fault because I should have left, but I never thought you’d do this to me! Not when you know my mate is out there somewhere!” you snarled, tears streaming down your face and Billy shook his head, agony etched on his face.

“Now… Now my mate won’t want me because I’m ruined,” you lamented as you wiped your eyes.

“I’m your mate,” he whispered and it was so quiet you barely heard it. You looked at him for a moment, eyes slowly blinking as the words went around and around in your mind.

“What?” you asked slowly, almost not believing him because how could that be true? You didn’t feel the bond, didn’t feel anything like the things you’d heard mated people talk about. He sniffled, moving around the desk but keeping a distance from you and his dark eyes were wide and imploring.

“This… This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. You… you don’t feel the bond ‘cause you’re not connected to your wolf,” he explained and his voice sounded raw like sandpaper, his eyes cutting into you like glass. The news felt like a smack to the face and you swallowed thickly, your tears drying in your shock as you tried to make sense of what he was saying, what that meant.

“How long have you known?” you asked coldly, the ache in your chest getting worse and worse by the second. A new type of betrayal was settling into you. He was silent and you clenched your jaw, eyes boring into him and he looked away quickly.

“Since I first saw you,” he admitted quietly and all you could feel was blind pain.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me? You just went along with this friendship hiding the truth from me?” you asked bitingly and he rolled his shoulder as he shifted on his feet. His eyes pinned you in place, and you hated the pain you saw laying behind them.

“I wanted you to feel it, I didn’t wanna just tell you ‘cause… I didn’t want you to reject me. You have no idea how much it killed me when we met and you didn’t feel anything. After all this time wantin’ my mate, I found her, found you, and you didn’t feel a damn thing,” he lamented tearfully, eyes burning bright like fire.

“I hoped that… that when the full moon happened that you’d know then, I was waitin’ but then it all went wrong and you couldn’t shift,” he frowned and you looked away from him, unable to take the weight of his heavy gaze. You really didn’t know how to feel about it all. You thought back to all the things he’d said about his mate to you, all the while knowing it was you. You felt overwhelmed. You knew you cared about him and maybe this was why, even if you didn't fully feel the mate bond. There had always been something that pulled you to him. You couldn't shake the raw feeling that he hadn’t told you though, that he’d just mated you like this. Your hand went to the mark he’d left on you and your brows furrowed. In all the situations you thought regarding your mate, this was never it. You never thought you’d be mated without even realizing it, without even remembering it. Your eyes snapped up to Billy as he took a step towards you with a pain riddled expression.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you were supposed to love me when I mated you, it was supposed to be special. I-I never wanted it to be like this but I lost control, my wolf took over,” he admitted tearfully, shame dripping off his tone.

It was all too much and you felt like you couldn't think, couldn't breathe when you were in here with him with no time to let it all sink in.

“I need… I need space to think about everything,” you muttered with a frown, your head was throbbing and not from a hangover. You turned on your heel and started for the door, but then he was rushing in front of you, blocking your way. You were caught off guard when he dropped to his knees in front of you and a broken sob left his lips. He grabbed you, not letting you move as he pressed his face into your stomach as he cried.

“Please… please don’t go, don’t leave me. Not like this. I’m sorry,” he sobbed desperately, clutching you like a lifeline and your eyes widened a little as you blinked down at him.

“I love you, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he wept pitifully and you felt your tunic get damp from his tears. It killed you seeing him like this, like a completely broken man. The idea of having a mate felt so foreign to to you, especially since you didn't really feel the bond and the fact he was the King made your head spin. You didn't think you would reject him, didn't think you had it in you even if you didn't feel the full extent of the bond, but you did feel something.

“I’m not rejecting you, Billy,” you whispered, needing him to stop crying because it felt like someone had punched a hole right through your chest. He blinked up at you then, his face damp and eyes red. He had this awful look on his face, a mix of hopeful and also heartbroken like his mind had already told him it was pointless to have hope.

“I just need some time to think, this is a lot to process. Meet me in the gardens at 9 tonight and we can talk after I’ve got my head on right,” you muttered. The desperate need to get away and be alone was clawing at you. You couldn't really grasp everything he’d told you like this.

“Anything. I’ll do… anything,” he said quickly, his sad eyes burning holes into you. He took a deep inhale and stood on shaky feet and you had to resist the urge to help steady him. He wiped at his eyes furiously, rolling his shoulder again before he shot you a lost look. You gave him a nod before you quickly walked around him feeling heavy and weighed down, wrenching open the door before you hurried down the hall and to the stairs. You were grateful that no one intercepted you on your way to the pack house and that no one seemed to be around in the house as you ran up the stairs. The second you got in your room you started crying, everything you had bottled up coming pouring out. You didn't even make it to the bed, instead you wound up on the floor, back against the bed with your knees pulled to your chest as you cried so hard your chest ached. You had no idea how you were supposed to deal with this. On one hand, you’d found your mate which meant he wasn't dead and he was someone you thought was amazing and you’d already felt a pull to. You hadn't been ruined by being claimed because it had been your mate to do it. But you still felt that sting of betrayal. He’d known the whole time, spoken to you about his mate as if he hadn’t met her yet. You understood his reasons but you still didn't like it. It was all too much.

You weren’t sure how long you were crying on the floor but that's where Azalea found you. She frowned deeply but her lack of questions led you to believe she’d somehow heard what happened. She sat next to you carefully and you were so upset, you didn't even have it in you to be embarrassed at how weak you looked right now. She wrapped her arms around you and you leaned into her as you sobbed. She stroked your hair as she shushed you gently and you clutched hold of her.

“Would you like a bath?” she asked softly and you nodded. She helped you to your feet and the tears started to ease off but it left an empty hollowness instead that didn't feel much better. She drew you a bath, putting lavender bubble bath into it and she helped you get undressed and then into the bath. The water was almost hot and it soothed your aching and tense body but did little to relax you. Your body was trembling, exhausted and spent from the emotional turmoil you found yourself in and Azalea took a washcloth, lathering it up before she started to wash you with care. You noticed how her eyes kept drifting to your mark and you swallowed thickly.

“Did you know?” you asked with a raw voice. She looked away, an uncomfortable look passing on her face and you felt your whole body tense.

“Don’t lie to me please, I’ve had enough of that already,” you bit out and she gave you a guilty look.

“The… The King didn’t tell me but I heard some things. I heard him talking to Beta Frank and I put the pieces together,” she admitted and you hung your head, clenching your jaw so tightly that it ached.

“I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t my place and… honestly I was scared what might happen if I did. The King is kind and caring and he takes care of me, but I figured meddling in his business regarding his mate would be a good way to end up on the chopping block,” she explained with sad eyes and you nodded. You weren’t mad at her, this wasn't her fault. After she’d cleaned you up, she helped you get out of the bath and dressed into clean clothes before guiding you to sit on the bed. She was watching you with worried eyes as she hovered by the bed.

“Do you need anything else?” she asked quietly.

“Could you find Kos for me please?” you asked and she nodded, eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before she slipped out of the room. You leaned back against the headboard, your body felt ready to give out at a moment's notice and you didn't think you’d ever felt this awful before. It didn’t take too long before Kos was coming inside and you were sure Azalea hadn’t told him by the shocked look at the state of you.

“What happened?” he asked with a concerned frown, moving over to the bed.

“Billy’s my mate,” you lamented and you’d thought your tears had run out but were proven wrong when they started again. He looked like he’d been slapped for a moment, shock and confusion all over his face before he snapped out of it and moved to sit with you on the bed as he gathered you into his arms.

He held you while you told him everything. Told him about the night before and what Billy had done and told him what transpired that morning. When you were done, you were thankful your tears seemed to have stopped too because you were worried you’d dehydrate if this carried on. He was sitting by your side, his arm around you as you leaned into him and one of his hands was stroking your hair soothingly.

“I don’t think he had bad intentions with all this,” he sighed and you moved to sit up properly so you could look at him. His words were an echo of when you’d spoken to him after Billy had kissed you the first time.

“I know what he did was messed up but… I understand why he didn’t tell you. He’s waited a lifetime for his mate, a lifetime a lot longer than yours or mine. He was terrified you’d reject him. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to find your mate and they don't feel anything for you, I think I’d die if that was me. I’d rather be dead,” he frowned and you sniffled with a nod. You were sure you didn't quite get it because you didn't feel the bond, you didn't understand what it must be like. You did understand to a degree though, you knew how much Billy wanted his mate, how long he’d waited for her and he’d wound up with you instead and you hated it.

“I’m just scared what this all means. I mean… I’ll be Queen, I don’t know how to be a Queen, a good leader,” you shook your head.

“You’re wrong. You are a good leader already and I know you’ll make a perfect Queen. The Goddess obviously saw it fit to mate you to the King, her own son,” he pointed out and you thought back to meeting her and how she acted with you. You remembered how upset Billy got when she refused to help you reconnect with your wolf. It all made so much sense now and you remembered how hurt he’d been when she’d said no. He’d looked like he’d taken it personally and he no doubt had. Because he’d finally got his mate and she didn't feel anything for him. She’d given him someone that was broken.

“I don’t know what to do… He deserves a mate that can feel for him what he feels for me. I do care, I know I do, but not like that. I don’t think it’s love, not yet at least,” you admitted sadly.

“You were mated for a reason and you should remember that, but no matter what you choose to do here, you know I’ll be on your side,” Kos murmured and you gave him a small smile.

“Thank you,” you replied and he leaned over, kissing your forehead.

“Do you want me to stay a little longer?” he asked and you shook your head.

“No, it’s okay. I think I want to be alone for a bit before I speak to him,” you answered and he nodded. He gave you another hug before he climbed off the bed and when he left, you sagged back against the headboard. You stayed there until it was time to meet with Billy and you still felt lost and confused. You forced yourself to get to your feet, not bothering to check the mirror because you already knew you looked a tired mess and there wasn't much you could do about it.

When you walked through the archway to the gardens, Billy was already there waiting for you. He stood up quickly, looking anxious and like he’d been crying the whole time you’d been away from him. It made your chest ache as you walked over to him. He looked so uncertain of himself and he was a far cry to the man you’d gotten to know. You sat down on the bench and he sat too, leaving a little bit of room between you as he just watched you carefully.

“I’m sorry,” you started softly and suddenly, he burst into tears again and your eyes widened.

“I knew… I knew you’d reject me, this was why I wanted to wait until you felt it too,” he lamented and you shook your head quickly.

“I’m not rejecting you, Billy,” you assured quickly and he turned his heartbroken eyes to you then, confused and lost.

“I just… I just don’t get why your mother would give you someone broken like me. To give you someone who doesn't feel the same when you have a heart full of love. I just… I feel guilty,” you said softly and he frowned at you.

“You’re not broken… and no matter what, I love you,” he insisted imploringly. You looked away from his intense gaze, toying with your hands in your lap.

“I do feel something. I’ve always felt a pull towards you and I don't know if… maybe a tiny part of me knew you were my mate even without the bond,” you admitted and his brows rose a little, a hopeful look on his face.

“I don’t even know how to be Queen,” you added with a frown.

“I think you’d pick it up quickly, everyone here already loves and respects you,” he murmured. You were silent for a moment as the gravity really sunk in about what being his mate meant and you were still having a hard time coming to terms with it.

“I know that… that you don’t feel the bond. I just… What do you wanna do about all this?” he asked with dread coating his tone and when you looked at him, he looked terrified of what your answer might be. You knew you had the power to absolutely destroy him and it weighed heavy on you.

“I… I don’t know. Maybe we could just… see how things go with us,” you shrugged, unsure about everything. You knew you did care about him and you hoped your wolf would come at some point and maybe you’d feel it. You didn't know how it would work if you shifted before you got reconnected with your wolf. Would you feel the bond when shifted but then go back to nothing? You really had no idea and it sounded jarring. He reached out slowly, taking your hand tentatively as if he was scared you’d spook or shout at him. You felt the comfort in his touch though as you looked at him.

“There’s no rush. I’d wait for the rest of eternity for you if you wanted me to,” he confessed and his words touched you. You knew how long he’d already waited, how much it had hurt him and now he was going through this. He raised your hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it and you felt warmth bloom in your chest and it made you smile. He looked like some weight had been lifted off him as he gazed at you and you really couldn't believe that you’d never noticed how he looked at you with such adoration.

“I’ll walk you back,” he said softly. You were grateful. After everything, you felt bad just leaving again but you still needed to come to grips with it all and he was allowing you that. You both stood and you felt slightly disappointed when he let go of your hand but you knew he was giving you space.

As you walked back to the pack house, there was a contemplative silence between you both and you wondered when things would feel less tense with the pair of you, feel less stilted.

“I… I uh…” he frowned, and you stopped in front of the pack house, looking at him curiously as he struggled to get the words out.

“I know you’ve already had a lot sprung on you, but I was just wonderin’ when you uh… wanted to do the ritual to make you immortal?” he asked, looking sheepish and you blinked at him dumbly. You hadn't even thought of that and now your brain was reeling from yet another thing.

“When is it supposed to happen?” you asked him, trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’d become immortal like him. It made sense obviously, his mate shouldn't just die and leave him alone like that. You just hadn't really thought about it.

“It’s supposed to be soon. I know… I know it’s a lot and I already fucked up the matin’ ritual with you but this is… it’s important,” he frowned.

“With the war comin’ up… I can’t lose you, I won’t. I just need reassurance you’d be safe. I don't wanna pressure you or nothin’, I just… wanted to let you know,” he muttered awkwardly and you nodded as you nibbled your lower lip.

“I’ll think about it and let you know,” you murmured and he nodded at you, a small smile on his face. You knew it would happen eventually and apparently it had to happen soon, but you wanted to at least come to terms with it first. It was a big deal.

“There’d be a coronation at some point too,” he added, guilt covering his face at dropping all of this on you and you blew out a breath with another nod. You knew all of this was part of your role as his mate and Queen.

“Who else knows… about us?” you asked curiously.

“Frank, Karen, Curt and Micro. I’m pretty sure Azalea knows and Micro probably told Sarah,” he admitted.

“I won’t tell anyone else until you’re ready,” he added quickly and you gave him a smile. You didn't really like knowing those you’d gotten close to had all been in on it but you could hardly blame them if Billy had told them to keep it quiet. And you did understand it even if it hurt. Kos was right, he’d waited for so long and you knew he must have been terrified you’d reject him. You’d seen how upset he got twice now when he thought you were doing just that and you didn’t think you’d ever scrub the image of him sobbing on his knees out of your brain. You both stood at the bottom of your porch steps and you found the urge to ask if you could stay with him gnawing at you. Being alone at night was really taking its toll on you and you hated it. You knew he was your mate now, it wouldn't be inappropriate and last night had been the best sleep you’d ever had. You didn't ask him though, even if you knew he’d be more than happy about it. You felt somewhat sheepish to ask him and you still needed some alone time to really think about everything and how things would change for you with this. It wasn’t just that you’d found your mate and you didn't feel the bond, but he was King which came with a whole other set of things for you to come to terms with.

“Goodnight, Billy,” you murmured, leaning up and kissing his cheek. He blinked at you for a moment before a smile tugged at his lips that made your chest feel warm.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied softly. You gave him a smile before you went inside.

As you walked in, you saw Atti sitting on the sofa and you weren't sure if everyone else was asleep or maybe some of them were just out enjoying their night. You hadn't seen him much, the party being the first time in a while and you missed him. He didn't come to the pack house much so you were surprised to see him here.

“Congrats, Kos told me the news. I can’t believe you’re going to be Queen,” he smiled but it seemed off and it made you tense as you sat on one of the other sofas.

“Why are you being weird about it?” you asked pointedly and he looked away from you.

“I’m just worried for you. Being Queen is a big job,” he murmured with a frown as he looked back at you. You looked down at your hands, worry setting in. He wasn’t wrong, it was a big job. You’d have actual responsibilities, ones that weren't just for a small pack but the entire species and you suddenly started to doubt yourself.

“Anyway, I’m gonna head to bed. Good luck,” he muttered before he stood and made his way out of the house. You presumed to go to the warrior housing where he’d been staying. You blew out a sigh before you headed up to bed yourself and while you lay in bed, you started to worry about what the future held for you. You knew you wanted to try at this thing with Billy, that you were mates regardless of the lack of bond on your side and one day you’d feel it. You decided you’d just tell him that you’d do the ritual in a few days once you’d had more time to accept what was going on. It was best to just get it out of the way and he seemed anxious to get it done. It touched you that he wanted you to do it because he wanted you to be kept safe. It was a little scary to think of being immortal like that but the more you thought about it, the more you liked the idea. It meant you couldn't be killed in battle. It would make you more lethal and you’d be an asset in the war. It was also probably best that Billy didn’t have to worry about his mate in the midst of battle because it meant he wouldn't be fully focused on fighting. You toyed with the idea of asking Billy if he could turn your whole pack immortal too. You weren't quite sure how it all worked and you presumed there were rules to it. You didn't like the idea of your pack members all getting old and dying while you stood by and idly watch and at the very least, you wanted Kos and Atti immortal. You’d have to ask Billy first and then you’d bring your offer to the pack, give them a choice. You wouldn't force it on anyone and some of them might say no. You wondered what the rest of your pack would think about you becoming Queen, how they’d feel about it. Maybe you could do good things as Queen. Billy was already a good and fair King but maybe you could also do good and help people. Maybe you could do something meaningful and make it all count.

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@on-ya

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

@noortsshift

@rainbowgoblinfan

@mysweetlittledesire

@promnightbinbaby

@intothesoul

#billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #billy russo

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