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pradaksj · 4 years ago

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ghostin || part 2 (finale). (m.)

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ ❝Though I wish he were here instead. Don't want that living in your head, he just comes to visit me when I'm dreaming every now and then. ❞

❧ pairing⟶ seokjin/reader

❧ genre⟶ angst, angst, and angst … did i say angst? + a bit of fluff? friends to lovers.

❧ word count ⟶ 18,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ major character death! sad ending. descriptions of grieving process.

❧ part of the ⟶ thank u, next series

part 1 || part 2 (final)

“H-He did the right thing,” Jimin stutters, and you were sure he hardly even believed what was coming out of his own mouth,“What he did was selfless,”he declares.

“No he broke my grandma’s heart!” Jia scowls at Jimin, “What a jerk…” she huffs, having been fully engrossed in your story.

“No he’s right,” you say, shocking Jia, “It was an act of complete selflessness and in a sense, I applaud him for being able to do it because God knows I wouldn’t have been able to,” you sigh, “But ask yourself Jimin, in a week from now would you regret it?”

He looks as if he’s about to nod his no, until you add to your question, “How about a year? Maybe two? What about three? Just how sure are you about it?”

He remains silent.

“Tell you what Jimin,” you pause, “Only if you’re one hundred percent sure that you’d have absolutely no and I mean zero regrets about your decision then go ahead and leave,” you say, and he looks at you in a confusing manner, “You heard me, you can get up and leave right now, but,” you add emphasis to the word, “if you have even the slightest bit of a doubt, then all I ask of you is to hear this story till its end.”

Jimin, who by now had grabbed his jacket from the table in preparation to leave, now hesitated. Before you went up to him, he was so sure he wouldn’t regret it… but now after hearing a part of this story of yours… that confidence was long gone. Because if history truly was repeating itself, then he wanted to know the ending to this tale.

And so remaining in his seat, a look of determination covered his face.

“Okay then,” you mutter, ready to continue.

“That night I had cried in that diner for what felt like hours. It wasn’t until the waitress had to tell me that they’d be closing soon that I remembered I was far from Seoul, and so instead I went to my parents’ house and spent the night crying in my mom’s arms. I didn’t tell her right away, but I knew that she had known. Because honestly why else would I cry that hard.

Still though, I kept my mouth shut about it for the week that I slept over there, thinking deep down in my heart that he’d come back and tell me it was all a big mistake. Because if he did, I would’ve forgiven him. Maybe give him the silent treatment for a bit, hell even make him beg a bit, but I would’ve still forgiven him nonetheless.

When I went back to Seoul, I stayed in the same apartment. I paid the same expensive rent despite there only being one person living in there now. I stayed there because every afternoon I’d come back from work with a tiny feeling of hope that when I’d walk in, I’d find him in the kitchen like I always did after work, eating God knows what.

Sadly it never happened....

In the beginning I’d have no problem visiting my parents in their home, that continuous hopeful side in me thinking I’d be able to magically see Jin at his parent’s house.

In reality the only person I’d occasionally see was his mother, who greeted me the same way she always did, acting as if nothing happened. I’m sure Seokjin must’ve told her through a phone call, but yet like the amazing person she was, she never asked me any questions about it. Never uttered his name around me, instead asking about trivial things like my career and such.

With no update on where Seokjin was, or what he was doing, it was only a matter of time in which I’d realize that things just weren't going to play out like how I imagined them to. The charming prince in my story had truly left.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and soon months turned into years. I stopped visiting my parents house as much, and ultimately began to ask them if they could come out to Seoul to visit me rather than the other way around. As going home only served as a reminder for me of what I had lost. No… of what had left me.

And so after about two years of being single, I finally began to date people for the first time in my life, until soon enough I met someone by the name of Seojun. Though it wasn’t exactly love at first sight, it was definitely my first serious relationship since my break up with Seokjin, and slowly I really did fall in love.

I had successfully forgotten about Seokjin.

At least I thought I did ….

I guess this brings us to where our story begins to end….

1999.

“My loneliness is killing me,” you whisk the batter of the cake you were making, “and iiiii,” the shiny ring placed on your left ring finger shines even under the kitchen light, “I must confess I still believe,” you pause for a moment, “I still believe,” you horribly sing the ad-lib to Britney Spears’ chart topper of a song, “...Baby One More Time”.

Out of nowhere, the music on the radio is turned down, “I think that’s enough whisking y/n,” your mom chuckles, “any more and you’ll over mix it.”

Sighing, you follow your mom’s orders.

Today was Christmas, and like every other year, you were spending it at home with your parents. Your fiancé, Seojun, who was out of town to celebrate the holiday with his family as well, would arrive in two days. It was the best compromise the two of you could make, with the agreement that the roles would be reversed for the following year.

Taking out the baked bread she had put in an hour earlier, she immediately sets it down on the cooling rack placed on the table, “You’re going to have to take these to Mrs. Kim right now,” she mentions, while cutting the bread into slices.

Silently, you nod, ignoring the drop in your stomach that you’d feel whenever you had to interact with anything that forced you to remember him.

Despite you successfully managing to forget about him in terms of your daily life, Kim Seokjin just wasn’t someone you could ever completely forget. No matter how much you wanted to.

Wrapping parchment paper around the pieces, you help your mom tie the cute little pieces of red string around it, her belief of presentation adding to the flavor still ringing true to this day.

She inspects them one more time before placing them into the woven basket decorated with many other Christmas like things, along with the two gifts she bought for the twins, “Make sure you remind her about coming over tomorrow with the kids.”

Nodding, you place your coat on and begin to make your way out, “And tell her I said Merry Christmas!”

Making a motion with your hand that you heard her well, you close the door before she can add anything else.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Ah y/n,” Mrs. Kim greets, pulling you in for a hug, “Merry Christmas,” she says.

“Merry Christmas Mrs. Kim,” you smile at her, handing her the basket.

“Come in, come in,” she insists, and reluctantly you do, “I swear everytime I see you it feels like I’m only getting older,” she chuckles, “You don’t want something to drink? Maybe some wine—”

Laughing at her enthusiasm, you say “It’s fine Mrs. Kim,” while looking around the place. She had done an amazing job at decorating this year, not like she never did, “Where’s Mr. Kim?” you ask in curiosity.

“Ah he’s not coming till later, had some paperwork he wanted to finish up at work,” she explains, and you nod in understanding.

“Merry Christmas!” two voices simultaneously yell, and immediately you're met with a giant hug from the two twins.

Eyes widening at how big they had gotten, a smile covers your face, “Now I’m the one who feels like I’m getting old,” you comment, resulting in Mrs. Kim to laugh.

The two, who had to be at least 13 years old by now, were definitely going through the phases of puberty by now.

Ruffling their hair, you recall how baby-faced they once were, only imagining how different they’d look in a couple years time.

Minjun, who now sported braces, was the first to speak, “Woah, it feels like we haven’t seen you in forever!”

Yeonha adds on, “Yeah! You’ve gotten so….” she stops herself from continuing, but you know what she wants to say.

“Old,” you finish for her, pretending to be angry by placing your hands on your hips.

She awkwardly laughs, scratching her neck, a habit she must’ve picked up from her older brother, “Of course not!” she tries to play it off.

“I’m only 25, turning 26 in a couple of weeks if you really wanna be specific, but that doesn’t make me old little lady!” you scold.

She raises her hands to her defense, while Minjun comes to her rescue, “I think the word she was looking for was mature,” he says, “I mean you’re dressed like those office ladies we see on TV,” and you’re unsure if the comparison was supposed to be a good or bad thing, but nevertheless you change the topic, not wanting to fluster them any more than they already were.

“So any gifts you two are wanting this year?” and immediately Yeonha’s face lights up at the question.

Eagerly she nods her head, “I think Santa,” she sends her mom a mischievous look, “is getting me a new beeper this Christmas,”

Mrs. Kim playfully rolls her eyes.

“Santa heard from a little birdy that your old beeper wasn’t stolen, but got dropped in water,” Mrs. Kim comments, and immediately Yeonha’s face pales.

She turns to her twin brother and smacks him in shoulder, “Hey!” he yelps, “it wasn’t me!” he scowls, “It was probably Jin,” and even by a single utter of his name, you feel your heart begin to race, “I swear, it’s like you purposely forget what you tell him on the phone sometimes,” Minjun continues to ramble on, clearly upset by the accusation of being the snitch.

“I think I should get going,” you suddenly interrupt.

“Oh but you just got here,” Mrs. Kim says, failing to notice why you were suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

“Yeah!” Yeonha adds for support, “Jin’s supposed to get here any second now,” she wiggles her brows, even after all these years, still clearly unaware of the circumstances for your breakup.

Mrs. Kim looks surprised at Yeonha’s sudden announcement, “He was supposed to get here at 8,” she mumbles, a wave of guilt washing over her.

You send her a sympathetic look, knowing that it wasn’t her intention to put you in an uncomfortable position, “I’ll see you all soon, I promise,” you say, and Mrs. Kim now barely notices the ring on your finger. A subtle gasp escaping from her lips.

With your hand on the handle, you begin to open the door, “And Merry Christm—”

Stomach dropping at the sight in front of you, you feel as if a semi-truck had hit you, rendering you at a loss for words, “Y-Y/N?”

The first thing you notice about him is the length of his hair. It seemed as if he had grown it back into the mullet he first had when you met him, only this time it suited the mature aura he seemed to have.

Dressed in a black turtleneck, matched with black pants and dress shoes, you weren’t sure if you were in shock because he was right in front of you for the first time in nearly 3 years or because of how easy it was for him to get your heart racing.

It was weird really, despite his change in appearance, for some reason even now you were sure that he was still the same old Seokjin you’d always known.

Noting that you’d been staring at him in silence for quite a while, you finally manage to spew something out, “S-Seokjin,” is all you manage to stutter under your breath.

The twins share a troublesome look to one another, “Come on you two, Mom made Pajeon,” Yeonha says, pulling the two of you by your respective hands and forcing you both inside, “We can all eat and catch up,” she smiles wide and big, “I’m sure you two would love that,” she winks.

“I d-don’t,” you attempt to say something, but too flustered for your own good, you remain in shock.

Glancing at Mrs. Kim, you notice the contemplative look on her face, as if she was debating with herself in terms of what to do.

Making up her mind, she announces, “I’ll get the plates ready,” much to your dread.

Awkwardly, the two of you are seated across from another, the tension in the room only building as you wait for the food.

“Soooo……” Yeonha breaks the silence that fills the room, “What have you two been up to?” she glances at the two of you, waiting for a response.

Feeling a knot in your stomach, you continue to remain silent.

It also didn’t help that Seokjin’s gaze had remained on you this whole time. It was as if he was studying you, analyzing you the same way you had done to him. He wanted to see if you had changed.

Feigning a cough, he ultimately speaks. “Shouldn’t you already know Yeonha,” he questions her, “unless you haven’t been listening whenever we talk on the phone…”

Her face reddens, “Of course I have! You just went to Taiwan recently to consult for some business company and do those boring analyses you always do.”

He shakes his head, “Then there’s your answer,” he simply states.

“Business? So he really did end up giving up on his dream ….” you think to yourself, a bit saddened at the fact. A part of you always assumed that Jin had left you to be well on his way to stardom, that when he left you that night, he truly was being the selfish person he claimed he wanted to be.

“Y/N? …” the sound of your name being repeated brings you back to reality.

For a moment you look confused, “I said what about you?” and for the first time since your breakup, both you and Jin make eye contact, easily taking your breath away.

Face reddening, you take a while to respond, “I um—” flustering with your words , you continue, “I’m um— the head writer at the same company I worked at years ago,” you force an awkward smile on your face.

“Oh…” Jin says, “Do you like it over there?” and the question brings you back to that first car ride to the diner when you had just moved to town. His delivery of the question still as blunt as before.

“Um yeah …” you reply, fidgeting with your fingers.

He genuinely smiles, “I’m glad,” he says, “really I am,” he adds for extra comfort.

And before you could say thank you, his mother enters the dining room, the plate of Pajeon in her hand, along with other side dishes, “Here you kids go,” she places the things on the table, “Make sure you eat it while it’s hot,” she warns before making her way back into the kitchen.

It’s only until you grab the piece of Pajeon with your chopsticks that he finally notices it.

He finally notices the shiny diamond ring you sport on your left index finger.

“You’re engaged,” he suddenly announces says , face unreadable.

As if the room wasn’t awkward enough….

Gulping, you nod, “Yeah,” you exhale, “it happened a couple of months ago,” you add.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, “I’m happy for you,” he gives you a small smile. Silently patting his mouth with a napkin, he gets up from his seat, “Well I just came back from a pretty long flight so I’m pretty tired, so I think I’m gonna head upstairs,” he avoids eye contact for a moment, a sign that he was lying, “Jet lag you know?” he awkwardly laughs, “But it was nice seeing you y/n…”

Getting up as well, you decide that it was best you left as well.

“Merry Christmas y/n,” he says one final time before heading up stairs.

“Merry Christmas to you too Seokjin,” you whisper under your breath.

“Since our breakup three years before, Seokjin had never once gone back home for Christmas, which was why I felt so sure that he wouldn’t that year, but of course I was wrong. So when I told my mom she immediately began to panic for me, remembering that she invited Mrs. Kim to come over the next day, and well of course she didn’t want to be rude and rescind her invitation.

And so I told my mom that it was fine. Whether Seokjin decided he wanted to come over or not, I’d be just fine. At least that’s what I tried convincing myself of…”

“Seokjin, we’re going to be headed our way now,” Mrs. Kim yells over the blasting music. God, did Jin feel like a teenager again. “If you change your mind well … we’ll be right next door!”

He hears her footsteps going down the stairs, signalling that she was gone.

Engaged …. You were really engaged ….

The image of the ring on your finger was the only thing that remained in his mind the night before, and it was what was haunting him even now.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, you were happy, you had found love in someone else just like he’d hoped for years ago.

He should’ve been ecstatic for you … but he wasn’t.

Several questions pondered in his mind once he saw it. Who was the guy? How did you meet? When were you sure you loved him? Was he treating you better than he ever did? Could he give you the future you always wanted? Just how happy were you?

Sighing, he gets up from bed, not wanting to sulk for any longer.

He had to do something, anything, for the meanwhile that he was back home to get his mind off of this. And so grabbing his jacket, he prepares to leave, unsure of just how long he could be in the same proximity as you without doing something he’d regret.

The sounds of crickets chirping fills the air, a wine glass in your hand as you look at the stars above in the sky from the comfort of your front porch.

Inside, your parents were talking about the most mundane of things with Jin’s parents, while the kids were busy preoccupying themselves playing with their newly gifted Nintendo 64. And after getting tired of constantly losing to them, here you were, taking a break from the chaos going on inside.

Seojun was arriving tomorrow, from there you’d only be here for the remainder of the weekend and then back home to your apartment in Seoul, as if nothing ever happened. Ever since yesterday, something was eating at you. You just weren’t sure what. And the only thing you could look at to ease your anxiousness was the ring on your finger, a solid reminder that you had a future to look forward to and that the past was buried six feet under.

Taking a gulp of the drink in your hand, you mentally curse Jin. Why did he have to return? Out of all years, this had to be the one he chose to magically come back in? “Damn you Seok—”

“Y/N?” you look up to see the person you were just damning, car keys in hand. It looked as if he was originally planning on going somewhere, but must’ve walked over here once he saw you sitting here by yourself.

“Seokjin,” you say, a mixture of both shock and displeasure evident in your voice.

Relief washes over him when hearing your response because unbeknownst to you, from afar you looked as if you were completely knocked out, a result of the position you were in while you were deeply thinking. Immediately he eyes the wine glass in front of you, everything beginning to make sense.

“You looked um—” shaking his head, he disregards what he was going to say, “Sorry I’ll just get going.”

And maybe it was the wine talking, but rather than keep quiet and watch him leave, you call out to him, “You can—” you hesitate to continue, “You can sit here if you want,” you say, “that’s only if you want to of course, I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to because I’m not exactly physically capable of doing that and—”

Jin interrupts your tipsy rambling by sitting at an appropriate distance from you, a soft chuckle escaping from his lips, “You always did like getting drunk off wine,” he whispers under his breath, a small smile on his lips.

For a while, the two of you remain in silence, simply staring at the view above. That was of course until you asked him a simple question, “Where were you going?” you mumble.

Bringing his attention towards you, his eyes soften, “Just wanted some fresh air,” he simply answers, being completely truthful.

Silently you nod, “Mm that’s good,” you say, your cheeks a soft tinge of red because of the wine.

“So…”

“So…” you mimic him, causing him to playfully roll his eyes.

“How have you been?” he attempts to break the ice, “I realized I didn’t really ask you that yesterday…”

It was funny really, the two of you truly had become strangers in a sense, just like how he said you two would be that night. But in a way, it also made things more interesting, it was as if he was getting the chance to know you for the second time in his life.

“I’ve been..” you hesitate to find the right word, ultimately deciding on the simplest one you knew, “I’ve been good,” you say, “I’m doing something I love, have an apartment I completely adore, and I found someone—” you stop yourself from continuing.

“You found someone you love?” he says for you, and silently you nod, remaining silent for a moment.

“Why did you—” you pause before continuing, “Why did you become a businessman?” you ask, the question having been on your mind since the day before.

Casually, he shrugs, “There was no future in the world of entertainment for me y/n,” he states, “so I went back to college, worked my ass off, and got a degree in financial accounting. From there the job offers came pretty easily and now I’m a traveling business analyst.”

“Did you do it because of your da—”

He’s quick to nod his head no, “I did it for—,” and at the last second he changes what he was originally going to say, “I did it for myself,” and you feel yourself getting angry.

“But it wasn’t what you dreamed of, it wasn’t something you loved!” you unintentionally shout.

“Hey hey hey,” he places a hand on your shoulder, “any louder and the whole neighborhood will hear you,” he attempts to joke around, and you feel your face get redder than it already was.

Letting go of your shoulder, he looks back up to the stars, his voice becoming soft, “The night I told you about wanting to seriously pursue becoming a director, you told me that if I failed, the real question would be if I’d be able to accept it…” your gaze falls on him while he continues to look up into the sky, “At first I wasn’t able to… I was too ashamed to admit to failure, but—” he smiles, “when I finally did, it almost felt liberating. And so I realized sometimes you have to give up the things you love, for a better shot at a future.”

Bullshit.

Complete bullshit.

That’s what you want to say to him.

And so you do.

“That’s complete utter bullshit Seokjin,” you mutter, taking a sip of your drink, “because if it isn’t then that makes you a selfish person, and you’re the farthest thing from selfish. So that’s just bullshit and you know it.”

He laughs, “It is, isn't it?”

Not expecting him to agree, you look at him in shock before grouchily looking away, focusing your gaze on anything but him.

Failing to hear the brief sharp hissing sound of his zipper being pulled down, you suddenly feel the placement of his sweater over your shoulders. You furrow your brows in confusion, “You’re shivering like a chihuahua,” he explains, scratching his neck like he always did whenever he was nervous.

Crossing your arms, you attempt to hide your face which you were sure by now was as red as a tomato. What the hell were you doing? Sitting here talking to your ex boyfriend of 6 years while your fianceé was probably well on his way here… it was wrong, it was inappropriate. So then if you knew that then why did it feel so … you brush the thought off before you could complete it.

“Because he was your friend first and as much as you hate to admit it, he'll always mean something to you…” you tell yourself, feeling guilty at the thought.

“Y/N?” he says your name, bringing you back to reality.

You look at him, wondering why he said your name out of the blue.

“Do you—” it was now his turn to hesitate, “Do you hate me?” he finally asks, and immediately your mind says no. You could never hate him, even if you wanted to.

He stares at you, anxiously waiting for a response.

“No I don’t.” you simply say, not bothering to elaborate any further, but for Jin that was enough. It was enough to tell him that you still …

“Seojun…” you whisper under your breath, a car pulling into the driveway of your house, a look of surprise on your face. Immediately you push off the jacket from your shoulders, catching Seokjin by surprise.

“So this is who he is…” Jin thinks to himself, watching the handsome man come out of the car, a grin on his face as he locks eyes with you.

Walking towards him, Jin watches as you lovingly greet the man with a kiss to the cheek, the two of you then walking towards him. “Seojun this is Seokjin, his parents are the neighbors,” Seojun offers his hand out, a polite smile on his face, “Seokjin this is Seojun, my fianceé,” the two shake hands. Your past and present finally meeting.

“Seokjin which means to be a great treasure,” Seojun attempts to make small conversation.

“He’s a linguist,” you explain, awkwardly chuckling, noting the fake smile on Seokjin’s face.

“Mm I see,” he mumbles, bitterness in his voice.

“I thought you weren’t coming till tomorrow?” you ask your fianceé, still surprised by his sudden appearance.

He shrugs, “What can I say, I got bored,” he laughs, “So I said my goodbyes early, and decided why not come here to surprise you,” he kisses your forehead, and Jin feels the green eyed monster making its way out.

“Well I should get going,” Jin states.

“You sure?” you widen your eyes at Seojun’s sudden question, “I mean I love your dad y/n but it’d be nice to have someone else to talk to,” he chuckles, “and well I definitely wanna hear about what y/n was like as a teenager from someone who isn’t one of her parents.”

You and Jin both make awkward eye contact, unsure of what to say. “Maybe some other time,” Jin manages to say, “I have to um…” he flusters, “um..”

“Finish typing up that business report you were talking about,” you make an excuse for him.

He snaps his fingers, pretending that that was what he was trying to say, “Mmhmm yeah!” he scratches his neck, “My job just doesn’t want me resting, not even for the holidays, you know how it is...” he adds on, coming for the Actor of the Year award at next year's Oscars.

Seojun surprisingly believes it, “Damn, that’s too bad,” he scratches his chin, a sign that he was thinking of something, “Well are you coming to our engagement party? Maybe we can talk then,” he says, and if your eyes weren’t already wide enough, by now they were well on their way to falling onto the floor. Seojun was just too kind for his own good.

Jin practically chokes on his own spit, “I um—”

Realizing that you probably forgot to invite him, Seojun interrupts before Jin could feel any more embarrassed, “January 12, at the Lotte Hotel in Seoul, 6PM sharp.”

Feeling his face get red, Seokjin nods, “Yeah I’ll be there,” he forces a laugh.

Patting his shoulder, Seojun smiles, “I look forward to talking to you then,” he says, beginning to make his way inside, with you following closely behind, a guilt-ridden look on your face.

Now by himself, Jin silently cursed to himself. Damn him! Seojun wasn’t at all the asshole Seokjin made him out to be in his head. But damn did he want him to be one…. then it’d be much easier to hate the man, and it’d make him much less guilty for what he was planning to do….

“After that night, I’d go to sleep scared. Not because I was in danger in anything, but because I was scared about the feelings I’d repressed for so long now starting to return. I was scared of looking back…”

Patting down your black fitted cocktail dress, you look at yourself in the mirror for a final time, “Everything is going to be just fine,” you whisper to yourself, having cooped yourself in the ladies restroom for quite some time now.

You couldn’t help it, the moment you saw the twins walk in with Jin’s mother, you knew it was only a matter of time before Jin walked in.

Ever since that Christmas weekend, his sudden return into your life had been eating you alive. You had gotten over him, you were sure of it. No … you are over him. Point. Blank.

This ring you wore on your finger signified that you were over him, that there was a different future to look forward to now. That whatever was meant to be in the past was no longer an option for you now. Right?

The door suddenly opens, “Y/N, there you are!” your mom comes in with an upset look on her face, “the host of the party can’t just disappear whenever she wants to,” she scolds.

Staring at her with a doe eyed look, you want to tell her everything. Everything that you were currently feeling, every question, every doubt that was crossing your mind since Jin’s return. But instead you just look away, making your way out.

“Taiwan huh? I’ve always wanted to visit there,” you hear your future brother-in-law, Hoseok, say.

He, along with Seojun, Seokjin, and some other guests were currently discussing God knows what in a social circle.

“Y/N,” Seojun calls out to you, a grin on his face.

Immediately you make eye contact with Jin, feeling your every movement being scrutinized under his gaze.

Sucking it up, you plaster a smile onto your face, reminding yourself that in a couple of hours you’d be in bed, with the only other times you’d have to see Jin being your rehearsal dinner, which was the night before the wedding, and the wedding day itself. And even then he would just have to be another face in the crowd of guests.

Seojun places a kiss to your cheek, “Jin was just talking about his adventures in Taiwan, I’m thinking it might be a good destination for our honeymoon,” he says with genuine excitement in his tone. Oh how naive he was…

“Oh…” is all you can say, struggling to keep the smile on your face, “um yeah, I guess that would be a nice place to go, wouldn’t it?” you attempt to stay engaged with the conversation, and it seemed as if it was enough to fool Seojun because soon he was talking about something else with another guest.

But clearly it wasn’t enough to fool Jin, as he currently had his gaze fixed on you, occasionally taking a sip out of the glass of whiskey in his hand.

“I think I’m gonna go out and get a breath of fresh air,” you whisper to Seojun’s ear, and silently he nods, distracted by the conversation he was currently having.

Going out, you make sure not to be seen by your mother, knowing that she’d only scold you again for trying to leave. And so like the cowardly person you were, all you could do was hide and wait in the hotel’s little garden, sitting on the stone bench, the smell of the flowers somewhat relaxing you.

God, did you just want this night to be over already…

“You shouldn’t have come here,” you suddenly say, feeling the presence of someone behind you, but you knew exactly who it was.

“You looked sad,” you hear Jin say, genuine concern in his voice.

You remain silent.

Sighing, he sits next to you, the moonlight framing his face in such a way that he almost looks ethereal. “Originally I wasn’t going to,” he says, understanding the double meaning to your words, for you meant that he shouldn’t have came to this event at all, “But I needed to see it with my own eyes, confirm that it wasn’t just some—”

“What? Some joke?” you scoff, “Some wretched attempt at getting over you…”

Now it was his turn to remain silent.

You shake your head, “3 years Seokjin,” you say, “3 years you were gone and you just had to come back the year I get engaged,” you bitterly chuckle, wishing you had a drink in your hand, “funny how life works huh?”

Silently he nods, agreeing with you, “I guess it was just a natural sense,” he attempts to joke around, but you remain silent, “I’m sorry,” he randomly says and you look at him confused, “For coming back,” he elaborates on the apology, “if I’d known beforehand I wouldn’t have come back to town for both of our sakes,” he chuckles, being completely honest.

“Hand me that,” you motion to the drink in his hand, and without question he does. Taking a giant gulp, you then finally say something, “I’m getting married in 6 months Seokjin,” you remind him of your future fate, “it was going to happen before you came back, and it’s happening even after,” you turn to face him, wanting to make sure he understood that at this very moment you were placing a line between you two, one that you hoped was unbreakable.

He returns to stare, “I know y/n,” he simply responds.

“Do you?” your face twists into a frown, “Because I know you Seokjin and something in my gut is telling me that—”

“Y/N I know,” he repeats, “but just answer one thing for me…” he pauses, contemplating on whether to continue but does so anyway, “Do you really love him?”

And just as you’re about to respond, he interrupts, “But I mean genuinely y/n, enough where you really can picture the rest of your life with him with absolutely no regrets, no what if’s…” he adds.

Could you? You ask yourself. Could you really imagine being with Seojun with no regrets…..

To Jin, your silence was enough of an answer, but before he could get a word in, a voice suddenly interrupts, “Y/N!” Seojun calls out, “There you are,” he exhales a relieved sigh, “We’re about to cut the cake,” he glances at Jin, nodding as a way of saying hello.

“Oh right ...” you get up from the bench, a black cloud hanging over your head, “I’ll see you at the wedding Seokjin,” you look at Jin a final time, the statement ultimately acting as your answer.

“The six months went by in the blink of an eye, but each and every night when I went to bed, it ate me alive.

The lies I was telling my fianceé, the lies I was telling myself, everything was just becoming too much.

And as the date loomed closer and closer, it was only getting worse. And so the night before the rehearsal dinner I finally came clean…”

Staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, you’d become accustomed to the sleepless nights for the last six months, faint lines beginning to form under your eyes.

In less than 48 hours you’d be a married woman, welcoming a future you’d always wanted. So then why was it now, you still couldn’t get a wink of sleep.

“Wedding jitters?” you hear Seojun whisper beside you, and you find yourself shocked that he was still awake. Usually he was quick to fall asleep, a deep sleeper as well, so to find him awake was pretty unusual.

You remain silent, hoping he’d just fall asleep, but like the caring person he was, he softly nudges you despite knowing that you were ignoring him, “Seojun, go to sleep, it’s late,” you mumble in the darkness, reminding you of a memory from long ago.

“Something’s bothering you,” he says, now turning to face you, and he nudges you a second time, “You know you can tell me anything…” he adds, wanting to reassure you.

This was your chance, your chance to tell him everything before it was too late. It was speak now or forever hold your peace, and so sighing, you position yourself to sit up, turning on the bedside lamp.

“Seojun I haven’t been completely honest with you…” you announce, now avoiding eye contact. “And well you deserve to know the truth because you’re an amazing person who deserves nothing but the bes—”

“Y/N,” he interrupts you, a soft laugh emitting from his lips, “I know Seokjin is your ex, and I know he still loves you,” he drops the bombshell of news on you, and you could’ve sworn you felt your jaw hit the floor.

“W-wait w-w-what?” you manage to breathe out, and it only makes him laugh again.

He now sits up, nodding his head, “I knew the moment you introduced his parents as the neighbors rather than calling him an old friend,” he chuckles, “you were trying to make it seem a little too platonic,” your face squirms, “and well you’re not exactly the best liar,” he pauses, “Plus your mom isn’t exactly a quiet speaker so when I heard her rambling to your dad about the situation, I sorta just knew.”

“T-then why didn’t you call me out on it?” you immediately ask, but before he could respond, you continue to ramble, “God, I’m so sorry Seojun,” tears well up in your eyes, “I love you, I really do,” you say, completely truthful, “but I-I-I—” you struggle to continue.

“But you also love him,” he completes for you, a look of understanding on his face.

Immediately you nod your head no, “No I don’t it’s just—”

“Y/N it’s fine,” he says, grabbing your hand, but you still refuse to admit it.

“No Seojun, you don’t get it. I love you, I do, more than you ever know and I’m ready to start our future together but—” you look away, “as much as I hate to admit it I’m always going to feel something for him because he was my first love,” you whisper the last part, “but you’re my last,” you reaffirm.

Seojun smiles sadly before sighing, “I know, which is why I sorta just let it be that night at the engagement party because well... I figured that if you were able to make it to the aisle without turning back it meant that you truly did love me,” he pauses, “Because even now you have the choice to turn back y/n, you do understand that right? I won’t be mad, I won’t be too sad, and I won’t hate you for it because I understand,” he says and you feel a teardrop fall from your eye, “that night I overheard him ask you if you really loved me and though you didn’t immediately say yes, you also didn’t flat out say no. And so it seems you’re at a crossroad… ” he whispers.

“Seojun…”

He squeezes your hand, “When you step on that aisle then I’ll have no doubt that you’ve completely unregrettably chosen me,” he says, “and if you don’t then I’ll know you were just never meant to be mine,” he smiles softly.

A silence follows.

“Tomorrow he’s going to the rehearsal dinner, and I’m assuming it’ll act as his hail mary. His final attempt at getting you back,” he suddenly says, “and so it’ll be your time to make a decision … a future with me or a look back at the past with Seokjin,” and he kisses your cheek, his way of saying goodnight before making himself comfortable in bed again, quickly falling asleep, and leaving you in the same sleepless state you were already in before.

He was right, knowing Seokjin tomorrow he was going to do something because you were 100% sure that he would never grow the balls to object to the matrimony in front of everyone. And so as the clock kept ticking, it was only up to you to decide your future.

“The next night came quicker than expected. After all of the guest greetings and pretentious conversations I had to make, it was time for the guests to make a toast. By then I had already made a decision in my mind, I just didn’t expect everything to happen the way it did….

For over the last 50 years I’ve constantly looked back at that night and have asked myself where it went wrong, what could’ve gone differently, what if this, and what if that… as it was never meant to escalate to the point it reached...

But it did … and as much I would love to go back in time and change everything, I can’t. And that’s just something I’ve had to accept, no matter how much it hurts…”

Clink. Clink. Clink.

You eye Jin as he gets up from his seat, his glass of sparkling water in his hand.

You’d been avoiding him like the plague the whole night, just wanting to get to the wedding day as soon as possible.

You attempt to remain calm.

He wouldn’t do it, not here in front of everyone. If he really cared for you like you believed him to, then he wouldn’t.

You knew Jin, and he was the kind of person to pull you to the side or find you alone like at the night of the engagement party in order to tell you something. Never would he stoop so low to do something like this…

Feigning a cough, he speaks, “I want to make this as quick as possible, don’t want to take too much of everyone’s time,” Jin’s mother glances at yours, the two of them unsure of what was going on, “So where do I begin…” Seojun looks at you with an impassive expression, your conversation from the night before coming to fruition, “Ahh I know,” Jin snaps his fingers, “So for anyone who doesn’t know, I actually dated y/n first…”

“Seokjin,” his mother attempts to stop him by harshly whispering his name, but he relents.

“We dated for about 6 years actually, to a point where we sure that we’d spend the rest of our lives together,” he scoffs, “but then I ruined that by breaking up with her,” he reminds you and everyone else around you of the fateful night, “which I know is shitty of me to realize just now how much of a mistake it was. But I mean what are the chances that I come back the year you’re about to get engaged, I mean that has to mean something right?” he rambles, almost as if talking to himself, convincing himself that this was the right thing to do.

Everyone sits in shock of the words spewing out of his mouth, certain that this was only something that happened in movies, never imagining that it could actually happen in real life, “I’m only saying this now because I realize it’d be even more of a dick move of me to object in front of everyone,” he chuckles to himself, “And so I’m doing this now, in front of everyone y/n…” he locks eyes with you, “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “but this is our last chance, a final shot at the future you’ve always wanted... with me.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

Slowly you get up, a heavy feeling weighing down your chest as you clear your throat before speaking, “I know this is a lot to ask but if everyone can get up and momentarily leave the room, I’d really appreciate it,” you announce, “I’d like to talk to my friend privately for a moment,” you look down to Seojun who nods understandingly.

Without question, Seojun begins to lead everyone out, until ultimately it was only you and Seokjin standing by yourselves, a scene all too familiar to you.

“Y/N…” he begins, but you’re quick to cut him off, your hand placed on your temple.

“Why?” your voice breaks, any emotion you’d been withholding beginning to unravel, “Just why?” is all you’re able to ask.

“Because you don’t love him y/n,” he whispers loud enough for you to hear, and it’s at hearing that, that you feel a shift in mood.

“But I do Seokjin!” you yell, seeing nothing but red now.

Silence momentarily lingers in the air, until you scoff.

“What were you thinking, Seokjin? That you could just come back into my life and I’d welcome you back with open arms?” you ask, tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall with every word you got out.

He shakes his head, “No but—” he hesitates, walking closer to you, “what are the chances y/n? What are the chances I come back to town the year you’re getting married—”

“The only reason I’m getting married to someone else is because you left me!” you interrupt him, reminding him of the choice he made years ago.

He looks away, “You don’t get it y/n,” he mumbles under his breath, beginning to grow frustrated.

“What’s there not to get Seokjin?” you push at him, now yelling, “If I hadn’t gone looking for you that night, I would’ve been left with nothing but a goddamn note—”

“I was doing what was best for you!” he yells in return.

“For me?” your voice shakes, “Leaving me at a diner in the middle of the goddamn night with some poor excuse wasn’t the best for me! Leaving me to cry in bed, by myself, for almost 2 years straight wasn’t the best for me! Leaving me, not knowing where the hell you were for almost 3 years wasn’t the best for me!” you finally explode, years and years of anger now revealing itself.

“Everything I had felt, the sadness, the anger, the frustration, everything … was finally being released…”

“I begged for you that night Seokjin, begged!” you emphasize, the tears that had been building up, now falling hysterically.

“I was just trying to do what was best for you,” he says, completely and wholeheartedly honest, because it was true. At the time he really was doing it all for you, and you understood that now, truly you did.

“But I just couldn’t let it go… I was still hurt, and that hurt was what was holding me back. That hurt was what was preventing me from walking out the back door with him, ready to finally start that future with him I always wanted…”

“I didn’t need you to do anything for me!” you yell, “I was a grown woman Seokjin! Capable of making my own decisions, just like I am now!” your heartbeat slows down, “I gave you my heart that night Jin!” your voice cracks, not only feeling your heart break for the second time in your life, but all by the same person, “It was you who left me! Not me, you!”

“Because I didn’t want to hold you back y/n,” his voice breaks, “Because at the time I couldn’t give you the things you wanted.”

“And I told you I didn’t care!” you cry out, “Because for me all that mattered was being by your side…” a silence follows, “You were my first love Seokjin,” you breathe out, “the first boy to make me feel completely and unconditionally loved and so for that I thank you,” you say, “I really do…” you grab his hand, “but this—” you struggle to say the words.

“But this is the end,” a tear falls down from his eye, and you can only stare at him in sadness.

“I’m choosing Seojun, completely and unregrettably,” you whisper, placing a final soft kiss to his cheek, “I’m sorry,” I’m sorry for being unable to let go, is what you want to say.

“So then I should go,” he quietly says, and silently you nod, letting go of his hand in the process.

And he watches you as you walk away, “Y/N,” he says your name for a final time and you turn around, sadness still etched in your face.

There’s a brief silence before he continues.

“Live—” he hesitates, “Live a life you’ll be proud of,” he reminds you, and to that you send him a small smile. A chapter in your life coming to its end.

“And so the next day was the wedding....”

“How are you feeling y/n?” your mom comes up to you from behind, practically feeling just as nervous as you were.

You pat down your dress, sighing in the process. Ever since last night, there was a churning feeling in your stomach that had been bothering you, but you reasoned with yourself that it must’ve been due to the events of the night prior, “Nervous but I should be good to go,” you respond, and your mom gives you a smile of reassurance.

Curious to see how many guests had arrived already, you look out the window of the room you were in, which gave a perfect view of the venue. Scanning across, it seemed like everyone was here except…

“Where’s Mrs. Kim?” you ask, “and the twins?”

After last night’s events, Mrs. Kim had gone up to you frantically apologizing for her son’s behavior, rambling about understanding if you didn’t want her at the wedding anymore, but you were quick to tell her that it was fine. That just because Jin did what he did, didn’t mean you didn’t want her attending. Which was why now seeing her seat empty along with the twins’, you were not only confused but a little hurt.

“Maybe they’re stuck in traffic,” she reasons, “they did leave quite late,” she adds.

Deciding it was best not to dwell on it too much, you push it to the back of your mind, “Let’s get this show on the road,” you ultimately say, ready to get married.

“You have to remember that in the early 2000’s, not everyone had mobile phones yet because of how expensive they were. People were still used to calling a house phone by memory and crossing their fingers that you’d pick up. You couldn’t just send a text message to absolutely anyone whenever something of importance happened…” you explain, your voice beginning to shake, “you couldn’t inform someone of an emergency until God knows when,” a tear falls from your eye, “Because if you could, then—” you let out a heart wrenching sob.

“Grandma?” Jia says in concern.

“Then I would’ve never gone through with that wedding…”

Seokjin was tired, no … he was exhausted.

God, was he such an idiot. What the hell was he thinking doing that? You were right, did he really think he could just waltz back into your life and everything would just go back what it once was? And to see you cry like that only made him realize even more of what a complete selfish asshole he was.

But at least, you both found closure right? That was all that—

The sound of Seokjin’s car engine making an ugly noise breaks him away from his thoughts. Almost immediately, he pulls over to the side of the road, purposely stopping near a payphone for reference.

Grabbing the flashlight from his compartment box, he gets out of the car and lifts up the hood of the car.

“Hmm...” he hums, nothing seemed wrong. It was probably just his car’s way of saying that it needed to be replaced by a newer model soon.

He smiles, tapping the hood once he placed it back down. He’s had this thing since his first year in college, it being by his side almost as long as you had been, if not more.

Yawning, he gets back in the car, the need to fall asleep becoming a little too overwhelming. Placing the key back in the keyhole, he turns it in order to turn on the ignition, but to his surprise the car refuses to start, “Come on LadyBug,” he says, the name of the car being something you and him both made up on a drunken whim, it sticking ever since.

Deciding to be stubborn tonight, LadyBug relents.

Sighing he grabs his Nokia phone from the glove compartment, the giant words of “NO SIGNAL” only making him sigh more. He just wanted to go home and sleep already.

Getting out of the car once more, he walks towards the phone booth, inserts a quarter, and dials the number of his parent’s house phone. As much as he hated to ask for help, desperate times called for desperate measures, and his dad should be home.

“You have reached the voicemail box of 45x-7x8-87xx, please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeep,” the automated voice instructs.

Seokjin groans, maybe his dad was asleep, “Hey dad, I’m sorta stranded out here with a car that doesn’t seem to want to start and well … I think Mom is still at the rehearsal dinner with the twins,” Seokjin begins to ramble, “She’s probably on her way back home, but you know her,” he chuckles, scratching his neck, “she still refuses to get a mobile phone so there’s really no way of calling her till she gets home,” despite his father not being on the line, he still felt awkward asking him for a favor, “I’m on interstate 6, you know … the usual route to get from Gwacheon to Seoul. Well, I’m gonna try calling someone else just in case you’re asleep… bye,” he hangs up the phone, disappointed that he was going to be stuck here longer than he hoped for.

Who else could he call, hmmm.

Ah! Yoongi! Hell maybe even Taehyung or Namjoon! Though it’d been a while since he last saw them, he was sure they’d be willing to do him the favor.

Quickly dialing their numbers one after another, he’s met with the same automated message of, “We’re sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check your number and try your call again.”

“Damn, they probably changed numbers,” Seokjin mumbles to himself, unsure of what to do.

Glancing at the time in his watch, he realizes just how late it was. Who else could he call….

The image of you appears in his mind, but he’s quick to shake his head no. He was the last person who could call to ask for a favor, but damn was your number the only number he had left in his memory.

And it wasn’t like he could sleep in his car for the night, that was only an invitation to get robbed on the side of the road.

He needed some kind of help, and quickly at that. And the chances that you were already home were pretty high, never being much of a partier to begin with.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, promising himself that this would be the last time he ever asked you for anything. He could only hope that you still lived in the same apartment….

“We should really start heading back home,” you whisper to Seojun’s ear, the rehearsal dinner having only awkwardly resumed about an hour or two ago. Things were barely beginning to get comfortable again among the guests, not like you could really blame them, they had just witnessed something that looked like it came out of a movie.

“Y/N,” he chuckles, “Have some fun,” he says, as this was probably your 10th time saying this in the last hour, “You deserve it,” he tries to convince you, your whole mood having gone sour since the whole mishap.

Sighing, you look away shyly, “I don’t know Seojun—”

“Come onnnn,” he teases, gently pulling you into a hug, “Just one more hour.”

You roll your eyes, “Hm fine,” you say, easily convinced, “but only one,” you reaffirm.

He nods, “only one.”

“Hello, we are currently either sleeping or—Jin I’m making the message for the voicemail thingy majiggy—” the sound of a high pitched laugh in the background is heard, and Jin remembers how he had been poking fun at you for using your “I mean business” voice, “as I was saying, we are currently either sleeping or at work! Sorry we couldn’t reach your call at this time, but please please please leave a message after the beep and we’ll make sure to get back to you as soon as we can! You ready? Beeeeeep!”

Jin laughs at how silly you sounded, surprised that you hadn’t changed the message in the last 3 years. It probably meant you had no reason to, considering it was pretty rare that you didn’t pick up a phone.

Meaning maybe you weren’t picking up on purpose….

Jin shakes his head, reminding himself that he was calling on a payphone and that there was no way you could see it was him. It was just self doubt getting to him.

“Hey y/n it’s me um Seokjin,” he awkwardly laughs, “I know I don’t really deserve to be asking you for a favor right now, but um,” he exhales a deep breath, “I’m sorta stranded right now and well I tried calling everyone else I could think of at the top of my head, I swear, but no one picks up,” he wants to make sure you understand that you really were his last option, “I promise that after this it’ll be the last time you see or hear of me, but I’m just really tired and well I just wanna go home and sleep. So if you can, I’ll be on interstate 6 with LadyBug,” he chuckles, “Um …” he’s unsure of how to end the voicemail, “I’ll see you soon then… bye ….”

Sighing, he walks back to his car, deciding he was going to try one more time before officially giving up. Twisting the key, he could only cross his fingers that it’d start up.

Vrooom.

A toothy grin appears on Jin’s face as he childishly celebrates, “Oh thank God,” he whispers to himself, rubbing his eyes and preparing himself for the drive ahead.

“Y/N,” your mom calls out to you from the dance floor, a shock ridden expression on her face, “Y/N!” she yells again, this time grabbing your attention.

“What is it mom?” you ask, unaware of the severity of what she was about to tell you.

“We need to go outside, I—” she seems out of breath, “I need to tell you something,” her voice shakes, and an immediate concern covers your face.

“Right now?” you ask, confused as to what could be so important that she needed to tell you at this very moment, in the middle of your wedding reception.

Silently she nods, leading you outside, her hand intertwined with yours. Your dad, with a solemn expression on his face, follows not too far behind.

“Something’s happened y/n…” she begins, voice wavering, “It’s about Seokjin…”

Inaudible words are spoken.

And soon you fall to the ground, the shock paralyzing you in such a way that you were sure this had to be some cruel nightmare, the sound of silent muffled sobs escaping your lips and filling the air.

A tragic story coming to its end.

“He died that night driving,” you hauntingly say, “A car had swerved into the opposite lane, and he was just too tired,” your voice shakes, “He didn’t see it in time,” tears fall down your eyes, “He died that night thinking I didn’t love him when in reality I loved him more than ever before. I was just too prideful to admit it,” you wipe the tears from your cheeks.

Jimin and Jia were at a loss for words, shock running through their veins, their eyes wet with their own tears, “You-You’re lying…” Jimin’s voice breaks, unable to comprehend what you had just told them.

“His mom didn’t get the call from the police until she got home, and even then she immediately rushed to the hospital, clinging onto the tiny bit of hope that he’d be just fine,” you shake your head, lips quivering at the recollection of everything, “She told my mom the next by calling my dad’s travel phone, felt like as a close friend … I deserved to know.”

“Grandma…” Jia says weakly.

“I always ask myself what if I hadn’t agreed to stay that extra hour that night. What if I had gone home like I should’ve and heard that voicemail? Because if I had, I would’ve gone to go get him without even a second thought. But like I said, I’ve just had to accept that what happened happened, and there’s nothing I could do to change that.”

Seojun gently knocks on your bedroom door, dressed in an all black suit, “Y/N…” he softly says your name, “Today’s the funeral… you,” he pauses, “you have to get up…” his voice is gentle, but firm, “You—” he hesitates, “You have to go y/n, you have to say goodbye,” he whispers.

He hears you attempt to muffle your sobs, just like you had been for every night of the last month. But in a room full of utter silence, it was almost impossible not to hear you.

“Y/N…” he slowly enters the dark room, heart breaking at the sight of you aimlessly staring at the ceiling. Sitting beside you, he begins to gently run his hand through your hair, an effort to comfort you.

But the heartfelt action only makes you sob harder, reminding you of the person you had lost, “I—” you barely croak the words out, “I just want to sleep,” you whisper, because you knew that it was only in your dreams that this wretched reality no longer existed. It was only in your dreams that he still… existed. It was the only time you were truly happy.

But by going to that funeral, it meant coming to face with the reality that everything was indeed real. That Kim Seokjin was truly dead.

“I know you do y/n…” he frowns, “but you have to say goodbye,” he repeats his words from earlier.

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

Didn’t he understand? You didn’t want to say goodbye! You weren’t ready, and you weren’t sure if you were ever going to be.

“I don’t want to,” your voice cracks, face feeling moist because of how much you’d been crying.

“I-I know y/n but—” he’s unsure of what to say. What the hell could he say? You were mourning, you were heartbroken. The man you loved more than the world itself was dead, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

“I have to say goodbye,” you quietly mumble into space, the phrase echoing inside your mind, “I have to say goodbye,” you repeat for a final time, an empty look in your eyes.

The rain pours as you watch the casket get lowered, almost as if grieving itself.

There’s a haunting emptiness in the atmosphere, everyone still in too much shock and disbelief to believe that this was all real.

All you could do was blankly stare at what was in front of you, trying your best to tune out Mrs. Kim’s raw sobs, the sound being too much to bear.

She had lost her very first born. The child she learned how to nurture, the child whose job was for her to protect, the child who was one of her greatest joys in this world, but most importantly the child she had no doubt loved unconditionally. And so to hear her cry with such a deep hysteria…. it was just too much….

Your mom squeezes your hand tightly, knowing that no words could take away the pain that you were feeling. She had first hand witnessed the love Kim Seokjin had for you, watching it go from a faint crush when you two were teenagers to a love so strong she was once sure it was unbreakable. You were going to get through this dark period in your life, that she was sure of, but the real question was when exactly would you come to accept it.

The clergy makes the final cross motion, ending his eulogy with God knows what because right now everything was just a big blur for you. Because even now with the sight of his casket being lowered six feet under and seeing both his mother and siblings cry like never before, it just didn’t feel real.

Slowly members of his family begin to leave after bidding their final goodbyes, with the occasional number of them stopping to give you their condolences, only making your heart wrench even more. You weren’t his wife, so why were they treating you like some widow? You didn’t deserve their consolation because you didn’t choose him. Like the horrible person you were, you just watched him leave that night. If it weren’t for you—

“Y/N?” a familiar voice interrupts your thoughts.

Turning, you feel your body go cold, “Y-Yoongi?” and beside him were none other than Namjoon and Taehyung, all three of them having tear stained eyes.

With sad eyes, they give you a small smile, clearly hurting themselves at the loss of their dear friend.

Soon you’re embraced in a hug by them, your body still in disbelief at the sight of them. It had been so long since you’d last seen them, years in fact. Never did you imagine your reunion with them would be here.

“W-we would’ve gotten here sooner but we caught traffic,” Taehyung says with a weak voice, eyes on the verge of spilling more tears.

And for the first time in a month, a small smile appears on your face, “You’re—” you sniffle, “You’re such a bad liar,” and he pulls you in for another hug, this time allowing those tears to fall.

The four of you soon stand in silence, words not having to be exchanged in order to understand what you were all feeling.

Namjoon suddenly speaks, “The last time I saw him was was the day he first came back into town, Christmas,” Yoongi smiles at the memory, all three of them being there, “He stopped by our apartment before going back to his mom’s, said he wanted to say hi,” Joon continues, “even apologized for just disappearing out of nowhere.”

“Tch that idiot,” Yoongi mumbles, “he said the first place he wanted to go was the diner but that they were closed,” Yoongi’s eyes glisten, trying his best not to cry.

“He then promised that for the next time he saw us, he’d to treat us to a meal and some soju,” Taehyung feigns a laugh, “We never got to take him up on it though...” his eyes lower.

“But the thing I’ll remember the most was his horrible attempt at finding out how you were after all those years,” Namjoon shakes his head, a dimpled smile appearing on his face.

Yoongi’s face lights up, remembering just how much he teased Jin that night, “You should’ve seen him,” he chuckles, “Not only were his ears red like how they’d always get but his whole face as well,” tears fall from Yoongi’s face as he laughs, “He looked like a tomato.”

“Ah and the mullet,” Taehyung reminds them, and soon the clear image of the Jin you’d fallen in love with when you were seventeen appears in your mind.

And for the first time since their appearance, you speak, “He—” you softly chuckle, “He was always convinced he’d bring them back in style,” and the boys feel a sudden sense of happiness in seeing you talk about him.

“Yeah he was—” Namjoon suddenly stops speaking, the boys and him now staring at something behind you.

It was Mrs. Kim, who was now walking towards the four of you, a box in her hands. A solemn smile graces her face.

One by one, she hugs each one of them, turning her attention towards you last, “I was—” she pauses, “I was hoping I could talk to you, privately,” she says, the boys silently nodding and bidding a silent farewell to you, glad to have made you smile, even if it was for a temporary moment.

She leads you to a bench, not too far away from his grave.

By now the rain had stopped and the sky was now a gloomy shade of gray.

Placing the box on her lap, for a small moment both of you simply stare at the view in front of you in silence.

You hadn’t talked to her since the night of your rehearsal dinner, not because you didn’t want to, but because looking at her reminded you so much of him. It reminded you of that first day you met him, how she had forced him to show you around town, not knowing that the two of you would be head over heels for one another years down the road. She, along with your mom, had always been your guys’ number one fan, always rooting for the both of you.

“He really did love you,” she stares off into the distance, “up until his very last breath, I’m sure,” she whispers.

You lower your gaze, unable to look at her.

Oddly enough, there was a peaceful aura in the air, both quiet and serene. Just like he would’ve loved it to be. He never did like seeing people cry.

“Whenever he’d come back home to visit, you should’ve seen the way his eyes would light up when he’d talk about you,” she smiles, “always eager to talk about what you were doing with your career,” she fiddles with her wedding ring, “Sungjin would get peeved but Seokjin wouldn’t care,” she chuckles, “he just loved you that much.”

At the mention of his father, only then fo you realize that you hadn’t seen him at all the entire service, “Where’s—” you’re hesitant to ask, not wanting to push boundaries, “Where’s Mr. Kim?” you croak. Yeah, he and Jin didn’t have the best relationship, but did that really matter now? Did any of it matter at this point?

She bitterly smiles, “He’s grieving in his own way,” she says, her voice breaking and her eyes still watery, “Those two had a tough love relationship,” she feigns a laugh, “but—” her voice cracks, “I always secretly knew that Seokjin was Sungjin’s favorite,” she sniffles her tears, “he just wasn’t good at showing it.”

You try your best not to cry, too physically and emotionally exhausted to sob any more. To you, it was just better to be numb than to feel every single emotion heightened, but God was it so hard. Everything just had to be so fucking hard.

Tightly, you grip the bench with your fingers, biting your lip in effort to suppress your emotions.

Slowly, she begins to open the box, pulling out what seemed to be childhood photos of Jin.

A genuine smile appears on her face as she begins to show you them, wet tears splashing onto the squared photos, “I—” she stutters, “I wanted you to have these,” she begins to explain, handing some of the photos off to you, “I tried looking for the photos and videos he’d take when you two met but,” she frowns, “but I don’t if he threw them away or—” she begins to ramble, “so I brought you these instead. I’m sorry they’re not of the exact memory you have of him,” she feigns a chuckle, “you know Seokjin,” she scratches the back of her neck, reminding you of exactly where Jin got his mannerisms from, “he never did like taking pictures.”

She flips through more of the photos, “I’m sorry there’s not that many,” her voice shakes, “I just—”

She needed to keep her memories of him too, is what you know she wants to say.

You notice that she’s also thrown some of Jin’s favorite things in the box, his denim jacket, the original little Mario figure he had always kept on his bed stand and his favorite Mariah Carey album, Daydream.

“I understand Mrs. Kim,” you softly say, “Thank you,” you whisper to her, embracing her in a tight hug.

“I should be the one thanking you,” she says in return. Thank you for loving him, are the unspoken words that linger in the air.

“I should—” you lower your gaze, “I should get going,” you say, feeling as if the world was spinning, your breathing now becoming rapid.

With the cardboard box in your hands, she watches as you hurriedly leave, only hoping that rather than haunt you, things could one day get better for you.

Running as far as you could, you hide behind a pillar.

It was all too much.

Everything was just too much.

Finally, silent sobs escape your mouth as you squat against the cement pillar. Grabbing his jacket from the box, you sob into it.

You just couldn’t let go.

As much as you wanted this all to be some horrible nightmare, you knew deep down it wasn’t. This mind numbing pain was all too real and unbearable for it to be some dream. You weren’t going to be waking up and finding Jin by your bedside, you weren’t going to hear his high pitched laugh ever again, and you weren’t ever going to be able to tell him just how much you still loved him.

Because Kim Seokjin was never coming back.

Your Jin was never coming back.

And it was completely all your fault for it. It was all your stupid miserable fault. If only you had—

“Y/N?” Seojun crouches down to face you, genuine concern on his face. “You’re—” he stutters, “You’re gonna get sick standing out here,” he wipes your snotty nose with his suit’s handkerchief.

Seojun was trying. He was trying to be as supportive as he could, and you understood that, truly you did. But just looking at him was a reminder of your choice because at the end of the day he was the person you chose over—

“It’s going to get dark soon y/n,” he whispers, “I-I think we should get going.”

You stare at him in silence and then turn to face the direction of the grave.

He wanted you to say goodbye.

But you just … you just weren’t ready to.

Because there lied the boy you were once so certain you’d have a future with. The boy who was capable of making you laugh even on gloomy days like this. The one who loved you on your good and bad days. The one who stood in a room full of people just to tell you how much he still loved you, something you knew he was probably so nervous about.

And so you just couldn’t let go.

But knowing you’d couldn’t stay here forever, you had to do the most humane thing you could possibly do. You had to live on.

“And so I did, all for him…”

“Yeojin!” you grab your mischievous 4 year old from the waist, stopping her blatant attempt at touching the stove, “What did I say about trying to touch the stove,” you scold her, and all she does is giggle, clearly unaware of the potential consequences of her actions.

Sadly you couldn’t be too mad, she was still learning right from wrong, but when it came to things like this, it was hard to keep your patience.

Carrying her up the stairs, you continue to scold her, “Remember what I said about it being hot,” you remind her, “you don’t want to end up with your fingers all red, do you?”

She nods her head no, “Of course not mommy.”

“Then,” you sigh, placing your little girl on her bed.

“Daddy said I’m in-de-struct-ible,” she sounds out the new word she’s recently learned, “Like Spiderman!” she mimics the superhero’s web shooting ability, the movie she just saw recently still clearly still in her mind.

“Okay Spiderman, I think it’s time you take a nap,” you say, and she mumbles something inaudible in return, “Hey hey, don’t go giving attitude now little lady,” you hide your smile, “it’s too early for all of that.”

Though not wanting to sleep, she allows you to tuck her in, already planning to get up and play with her toys once you left.

Taking note of her grumpy attitude, you place a kiss on her forehead, gently combing a hand through her hair, “I love you,” you coo.

“I love you too Mommy,” and before you knew it, her eyes were closed, the little girl now “sound asleep”, or at least that’s what you thought.

Sighing, you leave the room, gently closing the door.

That girl was a handful, most definitely, but she was everything you had in this world. Your symbol to keep moving forward, despite that constant need to look back.

Going down the stairs, you hum Mariah Carey’s new song, “We Belong Together” , the famous singer’s latest comeback single having topped the charts these days.

“When you left I lost a—” the smell of something burning gathers your attention, the intense scent of cooking oil alarming you that something was wrong. Your mind goes back to when you grabbed Yeojin from reaching the stove, her arm clearly outstretched—

Boom!

The kitchen illuminates an intense shade of red, a fire now starting from the stove, “Oh my—” immediately you run up the stairs because despite your mind being in utter chaos, one thing was clear: you had to get Yeojin out of here.

Frantically turning the knob to her door, you come to realize that it’s locked, “Yejin!” you yell.

“Mommy, I’m playing!” she giggles, oblivious to the danger you both were in.

You practically begin to punch the door, “Yejin I need you to open the door!” your breathing becomes heavy, panic now flowing in your veins. Smoke was beginning to reach upstairs, signaling to you that this fire was moving fast, dangerously fast.

Taking a deep breath, you take a couple of steps back from her door, “1..2…” using all your force, you ram into the door, effectively opening it in the process.

Without a second thought you grab Yeojin, wrapping one of her blankets around her body and face, immediately running down the stairs as fast as you possibly could.

By now the whole entire living room and kitchen were in flames, and you could hear Yeojin begin to whimper, confused as to what was going on.

“Everything’s gonna be okay baby,” you soothe her, your hand regrettably grabbing the door knob.

Immediately you hiss in pain, retracting your hand, “Oh God,” your hand felt as if it was sizzling.

There was no way you could get to the window, not without risking your daughter’s safety.

Preparing yourself for what you were about to do, you mentally reassure yourself, completely grabbing the door handle and twisting it, withholding the screams you desperately wanted to let out until you were out.

Running out, you place your daughter on the neighbor's front yard, the family immediately coming to assist you.

By now the whole neighborhood was standing outside their houses, concern and worry evident on their faces, “Oh my God y/n,” your neighbor notices the burn on your hand, “Go grab the kit in the basement!” she instructs her son.

By now, your breathing was erratic, a result of all the smoke you had inhaled, “T-The f-fire de—”

“We’ve already called them, they should be on their way. I’ve called Seojun’s job as well—” she immediately reassures you, “You need to relax y/n,” she tells you, but immediately your mind goes to something inside your house that was irreplaceable.

Mrs. Kim’s box.

Getting up from the lawn, you hear Yeojin call out to you, “Mommy!” she yells as you begin to run back to the house, focused on one thing and one thing only.

Getting that box.

“Y/N!” your neighbor tries to get you to come back, but by then you were already making your way inside, using your shirt as a cover for both your mouth and nose, a measly attempt at having more time inside the house.

Running up stairs, you barge into your room, immediately looking to the spot in your closet where you always had the box, but to your shocking surprise… it wasn’t there.

“What the…” you mumble to yourself, your lungs beginning to feel heavy again.

Without a second thought, you begin to ravage the room, knowing your time in here was limited. The fire was going to reach up the stairs at any moment, and once it did, it was over for you.

“What the fuck!” you yell to the empty room, feeling as if you were on the verge of an utter mental breakdown. It had to be here! There was no way you moved it, and Seojun knew better than to touch it. Putting a halt to your search, your eyes widen when you come to realize something.

What the hell was Yeojin playing with?

The Mario figure.

And in the blink of an eye, you run out the room, only to find the hallway now engulfed in flames, making it almost impossible to get into her room, not unless you wanted to burn to death.

“No…” you say under your breath, refusing to believe the box was in there. Your vision was beginning to get hazy and your head was pounding, now unsure if it was because of the fire or if it was because of the state of shock you were in. Tears begin to fall from your eyes as you hear the sound of the firetrucks nearing the house.

“Seokjin…” your voice breaks, realizing that the final things you had to remember him by were now gone. But despite your state of grief, your body knew it had to move on its own. Because by staying here, you’d inevitably die, and he wouldn't want that, not because of something like this.

Lifting up the window in your bedroom, you begin to slowly place your body out, trying your best to work with one hand. The fire was beginning to get to your bedroom, and you simply couldn’t afford to wait for the firemen to come with a ladder.

Sucking the pain up for one final time, you place your injured hand onto the ledge as well, now dangling outside the window, a scream of pain coming out of your mouth.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” you hear Seojun call out to you, “I’m gonna get you help, just hang on!” he yells, immediately running back to the front yard to presumably tell a fireman.

But the pain on your hand was just too much.

You needed to let go.

Even if it meant getting hurt in the process.

And soon you feel the impact of the floor, your arm taking mosting of the hit, most definitely dislocating. The last thing you see being the paramedics.

“Mommy! Mommy! Look what I made for you with all the other kids who were visiting their mommies and daddies!” Yeojin eagerly shows you the scribbling piece of art she created from her car seat, a toothy grin on her face.

“It looks amazing Yeojin,” you feign a smile, trying your best to act normal. Today you had been discharged from the hospital after about 2 weeks of getting your hand and arm treated along with having multiple tests ran because of the amount of smoke you inhaled.

Now, with bandages wrapped around your hand and a heavy cast, which the doctor said would take about two to three months to completely heal, you were on your way to your new (temporary) home. The fire had ravaged absolutely everything, sparing not a single thing in its sight.

It was your fault really, you shouldn't have had the cooking oil so close to the stove, especially without its cap on.

You turned your attention to Seojun, his quietness during the whole car ride not going unnoticed by you. It seemed as if whenever he did talk or laugh, it was unmistakingly fake.

Deciding you weren’t going to press him on it in front of Yeojin, you tell Yeojin to go upstairs to her room once you arrive.

Sighing, you place your things on the dining table, your free arm now feeling sore from its now constant use.

You attempt to make small conversation with your husband, “The insurance company called me at the hospital, said almost everything was covered…” you bring up, but he remains stoic.

You try again, “Yeojin seems to have made a lot of friends, with the way she was rambl—”

He finally breaks his silence by interrupting you, “Why did you do it...” he mumbles, causing your eyebrows to perk up, “Why did you run back into that fire?” he asks, trying to contain his anger.

You feel your body freeze for a moment before answering, “I told you already, I wanted to get the papers in the sa—”

He’s quick to cut you off, venom in his voice, “Stop lying,” he grits his teeth, “There was—” he shakes his head, “There was only one thing in that house that I’m sure you’d risk your life for Y/N, so let’s stop acting dense here…”

You lower your gaze, silence filling the room.

“You could’ve died y/n,” he whispers, and your silence only peeves him, “Died!” he repeats, wanting you to understand the possible severity of your actions.

Narrowing your gaze, you scoff, “You think I don’t know that,” you spit back, not exactly fond of how he was treating you, as if you weren’t a grown woman capable of understanding the consequences of your actions.

“No I don’t think you do,” he retorts back, “Because if you did then you wouldn’t have ever gone back inside that house to begin with!” his voice becomes louder.

“You’re going to wake her up,” you refer to Yeojin, who was probably taking a nap in her room.

It was now his turn to scoff, “Like you care.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you growl in return.

“You almost left her without a mother!” he finally yells, “All for that goddamn—” he stops himself midway, unable to finish the sentence.

You glare at him, knowing exactly what he wanted to say, your eyes already getting watery at the thought of it, “Say it,” you challenge him, “Say what you’ve been wanting to say for all these years,” you mutter.

“He’s gone y/n…” he tiredly whispers under his breath, maintaining your gaze, “He’s been gone for 4 years now!” he cries out, and you feel your face twist in anguish.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“It’s time to accept it y/n, you can’t keep letting him haunting you, you can’t keep being in deni—”

“Just shut up!” you yell but he relents.

“Life has moved on y/n,” his voice breaks, “it’s time that you do too!”

“But I have! Can’t you see?” tears are uncontrollably falling down your face by now, “I stayed with you despite it all!” you scream, now heaving in anger, “I had a kid with you, we bought that big old house you always wanted—”

“And why is that y/n? Why did you stay with me after his death, huh? Why?” he asks you, his questions ringing in your head, making you feel as if you were going insane.

“Because I made a choice that day!” you yell loud enough for your voice to echo across the room, everything coming to a haunting silence, “Because I chose you that night, when I could’ve chosen him,” you cry, “And I can’t bring myself to regret that choice, not anymore at least, because regretting you would mean regretting her!” you glance at the stairs, signalling that you were talking about Yejin, “And I just can’t bring myself to do that. I chose you, and I have to deal with that decision for the rest of my life. I got up from that bed years ago and went on with my life all for you—”

He shakes his head, “No you didn’t…” he frowns, “You didn’t…”

You did it for him.

“Y/N he’s dead…” Seojun repeats, his heart still wrenching for you even years later, “it’s time you let go and begin to live for yourself. Not for him, not for me, not for her, but for you,” he grabs your hand, squeezing it in the process, “It’s time you let go.”

You pull your hand back, refusing to accept it, “I just—” you muster up your tears, “I just wanted to save what was left of him. Because without it he just existed in my memory and—” your voice shakes, “and now he really only does. Because now he’s really gone,” you sob,“ Can-Can you really blame me?” you weakly say.

“I can’t,” he says, “but I also can’t keep doing this anymore,” he murmurs, “I’ve tried y/n, I really have. But I can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, and I have to prioritize Yeojin first and so I think—” he struggles to continue, “I think we should get a—”

“Divorce,” you scoff, tears still flowing down your face.

He gulps, “I’ve been talking with a lawyer for about a year now, we’d get joint custody, with no need for court because I don’t see us having to make this a longer process than it needs to be.”

“You’re not taking my daughter away from me,” you clench your teeth.

“I know I’m not and I wasn’t planning on it because damn it y/n, you’re an amazing mother. Truly, you are. But—” he pauses, “But until you find closure and acceptance then I think—I think she should stay with me for the meanwhile, until you’re ready that is.”

Until you’re ready to let go.

By now you were fully sobbing again because not only were you unable to control your emotions, but because you knew he was right. Ever since Seokjin’s death, he was the one who had to hear you silently cry at night, the one who had to accept that no matter what Seokjin would always be the one dearest to you, and who secretly hoped that with time it’d be something you’d get past.

Had it been anyone else, and you were sure they would’ve left you the day Seokjin passed. But Seojun was different, Seojun understood. But he couldn’t prioritize you anymore, not with Yeojin now in the picture.

You feel his arms wrap themselves around your frame, comforting you for a final time, “I’m sorry, for everything,” he whispers.

“Me too Seojun,” you hum in return, “Me too.”

The smell of the fresh rain hitting the concrete headstones fills your nose as you make your way to the resting place of the person you once loved the most. You hadn’t been here since the funeral, too in denial to ever really visit.

It had been three months since your separation with Seojun, your arm now fully healed. Currently, you were staying at a small apartment near your parent’s house, still unable to bring yourself to stay at their place. Not with the amount of memories it brought on.

The last you’d heard, Mrs. Kim had also moved, and you assumed it was for the same reason you couldn’t bring yourself to go back home. It was just too much.

Placing the red roses on top of the headstone, you make yourself comfortable by sitting on the grass, not caring if it was moist from the rain.

You just wanted to talk to him.

“I’m getting divorced, you know?” you begin, deciding to catch him up on recent events, “Things didn’t seem to work out between me and Seojun,” you chuckle, staring at your now naked ring finger ,“Not that you hadn’t predicted it already.”

Silence.

“We had a daughter together,” you mention the hyper little girl, “Her name is Yeojin, I think you would’ve loved the name,” you say, “She—”already you feel tears beginning to well up in your eyes, “She sorta laughs like you, that same kind of laugh that unintentionally makes everyone around her laugh,” you begin to ramble, “she seems to like Mariah Carey as much as you too, she’s the only artist we’ve noticed that can get Yeojin up and dancing. I’m sure she would’ve loved to dance with you,” tears begin to fall from your eyes.

The soft sprinkles of the rain surprisingly soothe you.

“God, I’m such a crybaby,” you mumble, remembering how Jin would tease you for your sensitivity to things, “It’s just so hard, you know? Sometimes it still feels like you’ll walk through the door with a VHS movie you just rented in your hand, talking about how excited you are to see it after hearing reviews,” you laugh, “or that you’ll come in the room to tell me to fix your hair after cutting it crookedly.”

You place your hand on his headstone, softly grazing your palm against its rough surface, “You know scientist theorize that there’s possibly billions to an infinite number of parallel universes out there,” you chuckle, “I learned about it in my introductory course to Physics my first year in college, I don’t know if you remember me babbling about it,” you continue, “But it means that there are cosmic patches which are exactly like ours where everything has happened exactly like this one, meaning somewhere out there there’s someone exactly like us, except they have the possibility to do things different. And so... I wonder in which universe did we get our happy ending?” you solemnly ask, “I—”

“Y-Y/N?” a familiar voice says your name from behind, and immediately you turn to face the person.

“Mr-Mr.Kim?” you say in disbelief, as you hadn’t seen the man in years. Not since the final year you were still with Jin.

You scan his appearance, wrinkles and gray hairs now more prevalent on him, but yet he still looked like the spitting image of his son. He just looked more … tired.

He places the flowers in his hands next to yours, silently taking a seat next to you. You were still staring at him in shock as he was the last person you would’ve expected to see today.

“It’s—It’s been a while,” he says, and originally you were unsure if he was saying it to you or his son, that was until he turned his attention towards you.

Silently, you nod, unsure of what to say, “Yeah,” you mumble.

“Do you often come here?” he asks.

Ashamed, you nod your head no, “This is actually my first time since the funeral,” you confess.

He hums a response, not in a place to judge, “Nothing to be ashamed about little girl, we all have our own ways of grieving and coping with a loss,” and you’re surprised to hear such comforting words from him. In the years you’d known him, you couldn’t recall a time where you had an actual genuine conversation with him. It was depressing that it had to be now.

“Do—” you hesitate, “Do you?” you gulp, “Do you often come here?” you repeat his question.

Coughing first, he then responds, “Every Friday since his funeral,” his fingers tremble, and you were unsure if was because of his age or because of the topic he was currently talking about, “I do it to catch up with my boy, keep him up to date with the things you young people are doing,” he explains, eyes now glistening, “it’s the least I could do for him,” he mumbles.

A silence follows after.

Feeling bold, you ask him something you’d been curious about for a long time, “Why didn’t you come to the funeral?”

He stares at the headstone, “I—” he sighs, “He was my first born, my first son, my—” he hardens his jaw to prevent himself from crying, “The night it happened he called the house, asking me to go pick him up. I had been tired from work that night, so I went to sleep early,” you feel your heart twist, “If I hadn’t overworked myself that day, I could have picked up that phone call and told him to stay where he was, that I’d be there in no time because at the end of the day he was my son who I loved like no other, even if we had a rocky relationship. He still called his dad for help, and I—” he takes a deep breath in, feeling himself lose control, “I let him down,” he ultimately says, “And so I let the guilt eat me alive, to the point where I felt like I didn’t deserve to go to my son’s funeral.”

You stare at him in silence, understanding exactly what he felt. For you had felt that same guilt all these years.

“I quit my job following his death, and fell into a deep depression like no other. Yerin and I were even close to getting a divorce, the loss of our son adding a strain to our marriage,” he explains, “She had managed to accept and let go of her pain, but for me it was just too much. I couldn’t accept that he was gone,” he pauses, “I just couldn’t let go.”

A single tear falls from his eye.

“I was breathing , but no longer was I living,” he continues, “And so I needed to learn how to live for myself. I needed to accept that he was gone. I needed to say goodbye, even if it hurt to do so,” he smiles solemnly to himself, “because once I finally did, it was liberating.”

“And it was in that moment while talking with Mr. Kim that I’d come to realize that in order to start living for myself, that it was time to let go, that it was time to say goodbye.”

Getting up from the grass, you stare at Seokjin’s grave for one final time, for it was time to accept the cruel fate that had been given in this awful tale. One day you’d be back, that you were sure, but for now all that was left for you to say was....

“Goodbye Seokjin,” you whisper, ready to begin again.

Jimin and Jia stare at you in silence, both having dried tears and disbelief written on their faces. This couldn’t be how the story ended, right?

But it was.

“So you really have nothing to remember him by?” Jia asks, and you point to your forehead.

“Sadly all ll I have is this,” you say, “but for me that’s more than enough.”

You turn your attention towards Jimin, “And so here I am, having told you this story in order to teach you that you shouldn’t let your fears get in the way of allowing yourself to be happy, ” you say, “Because then you’ll live a life of nothing but regret,” and immediately he gets up from his seat.

“Where the hell are you—” Jia’s about to ask him something until you raise a finger, signaling to her to let him be.

“I’m-” he stutters, “I’m going to get my girlfriend back,” he breathes out, squeezing past Jia, “T-Thank you Ms. y/l/n. I mean it,” he says, and you only smile in return.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you whisper to yourself, watching as he hurriedly leaves the diner.

Placing money on the table, Jia smiles at you, “Come on Grandma, let’s go home,” she hugs you once you get up, making a new vow to herself to appreciate those around her and never take anything for granted. Just like Jimin had learned, she had to live for herself.

“Finally! I know I told you that you could stay out as long as you wanted but I didn’t think—” Yeojin is interrupted by the embrace of her daughter arm’s. Confused by the sudden act of affection, she narrows her eyes, “If this is some trick into getting your phone little—”

“Shhh,” Jia complains, “I can’t hug my mom?”

Allowing her skepticism to pass, Yeojin returns the hug, “Movie night?” she asks her daughter and immediately she nods.

You smile at the sight, making your way up the stairs and into your room.

Slowly, you crouch under the bed, pulling out a worn out box from under your bed, grabbing a small flash drive out of it in the process. Placing the now vintage item into the plug-in of your TV, your mind flashes back to that last conversation you had with Mr. Kim.

“Wait,” Mr. Kim stops you from leaving, pulling something out of his suit’s breast pocket, in what seemed to be a flash drive?

Handing you the small item, you look at him confused, “I found it in his room when we moved, not too long after his passing, I’m guessing he must’ve converted it before breaking that old camera of his and well I always carried it around just in case—” he pauses, “Just in case I ever bumped into you.”

You furrow your brows, why was he telling you this now? Why didn’t he look for you instead?

As if reading your mind he says, “Because you’ve finally said your goodbye,” he smiles, “watch this when you’re finally allowed to look back. "

Pressing play, you stare at the screen in front of you.

“Seokjin!” the person behind the camera sighs, “Seokjin!” Mrs. Kim yells again, and the camera begins to shake, presumably because the person was now going down the stairs.

The camera soon pans to the twins, both of them giggling at the cameraman's antics, “Say hiiii,” he cooes. And soon the door he’s recording opens and the camera pans to a 17 year old you, an awkward expression being worn on your face.

“Woah,” he whispers, zooming in on your face.

Your eyes begin to water as you watch the recorded memory.

“Seokjin, but you can call me Jin for short,” he introduces himself, the camera now recording the wall beside him, probably because of how he was carrying it in that moment.

The scene then changes.

“Come on, you know you wanna smileeee,” Jin sings, he closes the camera to your face, ultimately making you smile.

“Well cheers to a new friendship,” Taehyung announces and Jin records you all lifting your hands in the air.

The scene changes again.

“This is her first time eating kongguksu everyone,” Jin announces.

“Who are you even talking to?” you roll your eyes, grabbing the noodles with your chopsticks.

“To the people of the future!”

And you recall how Jin had winked at you that time, causing your crush on him to begin to grow more intense.

Your face gets red as he continues to record you. Taking a slurp of the noodles, you try to cover your face.

“Well what do you think?” he asks.

Your face twists, “Mmmm I don’t know,” you mumble, the taste not exactly being your favorite.

“Boooo!”

You flash him the middle finger.

The scene changes.

“Y/N” the camera begins to move around, and your giggles begin to get louder, “Hand that back to me!” the camera begins to move in an up and down motion, probably because whoever was holding it was running.

Soon the person gets tackled, but not before panning the camera onto Seokjin’s face.

“And the recorder finally gets recorded,” you laugh, and Jin attempts to cover his face, but you’re quick to remove his hands. He awkwardly avoids eye contact, allowing you to record his face.

You feel your breath hitch. It was Jin… the Jin you knew, the Jin you fell in love with. Right there in front of you.

Looking at the camera he quickly makes a kissy face, making you shriek in excitement. “There you have it folks,” you tease him, “Kim Seokjin being the model he is…”

He rolls his eyes, now attempting to reach for the camera.

“Okay okay, that’s enough,” he groans as you relent.

“Smileeee!”

The scene changes for a final time, and you see Jin sitting in his room, facing the camera you presumed he had set up.

“Hello!” he awkwardly waves to the camera, “If you’re watching this it means one, you’ve been snooping around in this room or two, you’re Y/N.”

You feel your heart skip a beat, and your body going numb.

“Ah I don’t know how to start this,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “When I first met you, I thought you were really pretty,” he begins, “and I knew I wanted to be your friend! What I didn’t think was going to happen was that I’d end up really really realllyyyy liking you,” he laughs, “I’ve been trying to tell you for some time now,” his voice cracks, and immediately he begins to cough, trying to make himself sound as manly as possible, “So I thought why not tell you the best way I knew how … through film! That way I’ll let this video do all the work for me,” he smiles.

You laugh at how endearing he was.

“Hopefully you like me too because if not then I feel really bad for the future Jin who’s probably attentively watching your reaction and crossing his fingers. I made this collage of memories using the shitty editing programs we have at the school library so sorry if it’s not exactly the best, but …. I hope this is something you can look back on in the future and be glad I recorded, even if you complained all the time.”

Look at him, predicting the future.

“So… I’ll leave it to the future Jin to handle the rest,” he laughs, “Byeeee!” he waves to the camera. His final goodbye.

5 years later.

“Mom, slow down!” Yeojin instructs, worried about how fast you were trying to walk.

“If you can’t keep up with me, an 80 year old lady, then that should be a concern for you, not for me!” you continue with your daily walk, enjoying the spring weather.

“If you’re not careful you cou—” Yeojin suddenly stops speaking, now having caught up to you. “Mom?” Yeojin asks, concerned as to what you two were staring at with such a shocked expression on your face. Following your gaze, she notices a man staring at you a little girl tugging at his shirt.

“Daddy! I wanna play on the swings!” she pouts at the lack of attention her father was giving her. Immediately you recognize the woman sitting on the bench behind them, remembering her once crying face which was now replaced with a grin as she carried a second (younger) child in her arms.

Slowly the man raises his hand, waving at you with a warm smile on his face.

A single tear falls from your eye as you wave back, your heart swelling at the sight.

And as quick as the moment was, it ended just as fast. As slowly, you began to walk away, while he went on to play with this young daughter. Two strangers crossing paths for a final time.

“Do you know that man?” Yeojin cluelessly asks, confused about the exchange that just happened in front of her.

You nod your head, a smile still on your face, “No,” you chuckle, “No I don’t,” you ultimately say, continuing with your walk.

a/n: whew ! & that’s the end ! if you’ve made it this far then i want to personally thank you! i don’t really expect this story to get many notes well because it’s sad and well ik i personally don’t normally click on major character death fics haha. if you enjoyed this fic then (if you can) please please please leave a comment/review/like/reblog (whichever works best for you) and you can always hop in my ask box for any questions or comments :) im thinking of making an alternative ending for this one day, maybe after i finish the whole tun series, but we’ll see haha. ill see yall next time ! <3

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id-never-letyoudown · 4 years ago

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Uhhhh part two of the rare pair part 1

"Sleep well, Dove?"

"It's too early for your nonsense." Henry complained, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He had not. Slept well, that is. It was the damn nightmares again. They always came this time of year.

Henry had already visited the field. That usually helped things, but not this time.

"Tell me about them."

"Them what?"

"The nightmares." Even though he already knew well enough what they were about. "The men." Wilbur already knew. He's been in Henry's head more times than he could count. He had to make sure he was the right one for the job, after all. He didn't dig through everything in that mess Henry called a mind. His thoughts were constantly all over the place. And why were there so many musicals and chemical compositions in that thing?

Besides, he needed Henry to trust him if this thing was going to work. Something told him digging around that brain of his wouldn't end well.

Henry paused, looking down at his steaming mug of coffee. "They were dear friends of mine. Lovers." He takes a sip, it's more bitter than usual. "I was the cause of their deaths. Though... you already knew that." His eyes flick up to meet Wilbur's over the rim of his mug. "Didn't you?"

"..."

"I knew I could feel something rooting around. You were scoping me out before we even formally met, weren't you?" Henry grins in victory, setting his coffee down with a satisfying 'clack' against the marble counter.

"Aren't you supposed to be pissed?"

"If anything I'm intrigued! Can you read everyone's minds?" He leaned against the counter, head propped in his hand. "Ooo-what else do you know about me? I want the details."

Wilbur snorted, "Course I can. And for the record I don't know everything about you. I stopped looking around after a bit."

"Oh? So I still got some secrets then?" Henry would have thought he'd have long since taken advantage of his abilities. Know him inside and out. "Huh, seems I've pegged you wrong."

"You couldn't peg me at all." He grins.

Henry only shrugged. And something told Wilbur that he didn't get the joke.

Wilbur clears his throat, "Anyway, uh, wanna hear about which of the Monroe brats isn't Gerald's? The answer may shock you." Like a damn click bait article.

Henry's eyes light up, a loud gasp escaping him. "I knew it!" He was always down for gossip. And a scandal like that? It was right up his alley.

Wilbur enjoyed watching the man lose his shit with every little Hatchetfield secret he told him. And there were a lot. He could tell Henry was plenty skeptical of him, but he was getting there. Little by little.

Henry walked into the kitchen to fetch some refreshments for his monthly 'date night' with John and Xander. Used to be bi-monthly. And before that it'd been weekly. Nowadays he found the pair trying to gently nudge him away. And normally it wouldn't have bothered him. But they hadn't started doing this until after he was let go from P.E.I.P. Which made him think.

And think.

And overthink.

He had no problem with leaving the relationship. If they were to simply ask him. But all these hints? He could do without. Xander kept trying to set him up on blind dates. And John was cold. Even when the three of them were intimate. Especially when the three of them were intimate.

It really got him thinking....

His hand barely touches his turtleneck. Was it... no, it couldn't possibly be the scars. John had plenty of his own. Although, baring witness to how Henry got them probably made that very, very different. And there was the nerve damage. And the pain. Which always got worse when there was a storm approaching.

John was his friend. He didn't want him thinking he was responsible for any of that. He should call him-

His phone began ringing, as if on cue. He fetches it from his pocket. Of all the coincidences-

He answers it immediately. "I was just thinking about you, say we really ought to have a chat when you two get here-" his stomach sinks at the reply. "Oh... so, you can't make it then?... No, no. I understand. I hope you two have fun." And he hung up.

He looks at the bottle in his hand. At the neatly set dinner table. At the flowers he picked himself. Apparently the date the three of them made their 'throuple', as the kids called it, official wasn't all that important to them.

Such a shame he had to spend the day alone.

Or... not.

"... Wilbur, how do you like your steak?"

Wilbur was always there, even when he thought he wasn't. He didn't know why he felt comfort in that.

"Who was that?" Xander commented, fixing his tie in the mirror.

"Henry. I was telling him about how we couldn't make... it...." He trailed off when he walked into their bedroom and saw his husband getting dressed. "Where are you going?'

Xander paused, standing up straight. "Couldn't make it next month, right?... You told him next month, right?"

John pressed his lips into a fine line. "Iiiii thought you said-"

"John!" Xander dropped his tie. "Why would I tell you to tell him that we wouldn't be able to make it on the three of us' anniversary?"

"It was a mistake-I'll just call him back real quick." John did not want to face his husband's wrath, he could already feel his eyes melting the back of his skull as he dialed Henry's number. "It's just going straight to voicemail-"

"Get dressed, we're going anyways. And y o u can explain the mix-up."

"Where'd you learn to cook?" Wilbur asked him. Not that he needed to eat. Or had a great sense of taste nowadays. But it was nice to have something to chew on now and again. And it smelled amazing.

"Oh, my aunt. This is all from her recipe book." He seemed rather proud of that fact.

"Well, safe to say those two are missing out."

Henry hums. He's been quiet all through dinner. Still down about being cancelled on with such short notice. "You know what? They are." He stabs his fork a little too forcefully, and sends his mashed potatoes straight in the air. And right smack in his face.

They both pause.

And then Wilbur starts laughing. Which sets Henry into his own fit of giggling.

"Do you hear that?" Xander paused on Henry's doorstep, hearing the laughter coming from inside.

"Doesn't sound like he's alone." John muses, trying to see if he could sneak a peek through one of the windows. He can see Henry fine. But whoever it is he's with is just out of sight.

"John!" Xander whisper shouts, tugging on his husband's sleeve. "You can't just spy on our friend like that!"

"Aren't you curious?" John looks back at Xander.

"I-well-yes! But not enough to spy on him!"

The two continue to bicker quietly, or, they thought they were being quiet.

Wilbur looks over his glass, humming. "You've got guests." The curtains then shut themselves. It was a good thing neither of them could see him. He doubted seeing the former colonel would sit well with either of them. Especially John.

"What-" Henry looks towards the door, face now free of the mess from before. He can hear exactly who it is too. And it both confuses and ticks him off.

"And they know you're not alone. They won't buy it if you say you are." Wilbur stands up, "Gotta make them leave somehow."

Henry wracks his brain for an idea. And seeing as he's well into that bottle of wine, they're not really thought out. "... You can change your appearance, right?"

Wilbur locks eyes with Henry, a grin splitting across his face.

"Just knock."

"You knock-"

Henry opens the door a crack, taking a peek at the two of them. "... I thought you two couldn't make it." He responds plainly, not even greeting them.

"There was a mix-up." Xander explained, elbowing his husband to elaborate.

"I meant to tell you that we wouldn't be able to make it next time." John tells him.

"Well, that's unfortunate." Henry wraps his fingers around the door, glancing back into the house. "Because I ended up taking your advice, Xander. And I think it'd be terribly awkward of me to explain to my date."

Xander is equal parts thrilled and... well, confused. Thrilled because he wanted Henry to have someone to lean on when they weren't around. And confused because Henry had always outright refused whenever Xander brought up mixers or blind dates. "That's wonderful, Hen! Do we know who it is?"

"I ah-well-" Henry blinked, shit. He didn't even know who Wilbur was going to come around that corner looking like-

"Gary Goldstein, attorney at law!" Henry nearly jumped when the man announced himself. His face flushed. He let the door open fully, and there he was. The supposed Gary Goldstein. A faithful rendition, he'd say.

It was an... awkward conversation to say the least. When Henry finally managed to turn the two away he locked the door behind them.

"Whatthefuckwasthat?"

"You didn't tell me w h o to look like! I just chose a rando guy!"

"I... goddamnit." Henry stood there, trying not to laugh at the thoughts that had to be bouncing around in John and Xander's head right about now. "At least you chose someone at least somewhat attractive."

"Yeah, cuz talking non-stop about audits is so attractive." Wilbur runs a hand through his hair, the illusion dropping almost instantly.

Henry smiles, wine getting to his head. "That's much better."

"What?"

"... Hm? Oh, nothing. This was fun. Should do it again sometime."

"You're really going to make an entire plotline-"

"Is that what we're calling our 'reality scheming'?"

"-be quiet, are you really creating an entire plot based off of one thing this Matthews guy said to you?"

".... Yes, of course. Naturally. I'm calling it 'The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals'... hm, sure is a mouthful. What do you think?" Henry slides over his tablet to show Wilbur, who doesn't know if he should be impressed or not.

He rolls his eyes, leaning over to get a good look at it. "... You know, I think the big man might actually get a kick out of this."

"Speaking of, am I ever going to meet this 'Wiggley' character?" Henry slides his tablet back, tapping on the screen before resuming his scribbling.

"Depends on how well you perform, Dove-"

"Why do you call me that?" Henry looked up, reading glasses askew. He pulls them off to clean them up, fetching a cloth from his coat pocket.

"What, you don't like it?" Like that'd stop him. Wilbur watches Henry. He can't decide if he likes him better with or without the glasses-

"I just find it odd, is all. I don't mind it." He slides them back on, looking back up at him once again. "You called me that the first time we met-"

"That wasn't the first time we met."

"Excuse me?"

Wilbur is no longer sitting on the table. Henry thinks he's up and left until he finds him sitting in the living room, just barely visible from the kitchen. He gets up and follows him with a huff.

"I watched you for a while, before that day. I saw a lot of things." He chuckles, "Lotta embarrassing things too. But that's not the point." He pops his feet up on the coffee table. "I saw you with that bird a while back. You were talking to it. Thought it was kinda kooky, kinda sweet."

Henry has to think for a while, and then his face softens. "The bird you saw was one I nursed back to health." He sighs, walking up to him and kicking his legs so he's forced to move them. "Get your damn feet off my mahogany." He then walks past him, just to sit on the other end of the couch.

Wilbur scowls. He could kill Henry so easily, doesn't he know that? "How kind."

"It was either that or put it out of its misery." Henry makes himself comfortable, leaning back on the couch.

"I doubt you'd have the guts to do that."

"You don't think I'm capable of mercy killing? That's laughable." Henry eyes him, "Look in my mind and find out. Go on. You have my permission."

Wilbur did. And it hit him all at once. It wasn't that the scene shocked him. He just hadn't been prepared for the rush of emotion.

He saw Henry's hands. Injecting something into an IV drip. Shaking as they did so. And a man. So pale and sickly. Just lying on the bed. But he was smiling. And that's all he could see before Henry pushed him out.

"Promise me something, Wilbur."

He looked at him. So he actually was going to use that damn condition then? "... What?"

"Don't ever underestimate me or think me incapable." He curled up on the couch, looking ready to settle in for some sleep. "Promise me, Wilbur." His eyes weren't leaving him anytime soon.

"... I promise."

Henry seemed satisfied, now closing his eyes. "Alexa, play my Sleep playlist."

As soft music filled the room, Wilbur realized that maybe he bit off more than he could chew. Henry was chosen for a reason. He had to remember that.

He also realized it really didn't take long for Henry to fall asleep. At all. Out like a light.

Wilbur gets up, not even thinking when he takes the professor's glasses off for him. "Dumbass."

#tgwdlm #cridgens #henry hidgens #wilbur cross #professor hidgens #black friday musical

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jordanr770-blog · 4 years ago

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America Needs Some Talent

I just needed someplace to write down my thoughts so here we are!

I have been watching America’s Got Talent since season 11 when the ukulele girl won. I personally didn’t vote for her but can understand why she won. Same goes for season 12. I was rooting super hard for Diavolo but can understand why puppet girl won. Season 13 had some of the best acts ever (Shin Lim-winner) and I know a lot of people disliked her, but Courtney Hadwin should have at least gotten 5th place over sob story “I’m such a good person and I hit my wife” Michael Ketterer. Kodi Lee was the obvious winner of season 14 and I personally thought he deserved it over the other acts. Other people did not think it was well deserved, and that’s ok too.

Last season we got a spoken word poet in the form of Brandon Leake. I did not enjoy the act AT ALL and was kind of mad that he won, but I will say that even though I did not enjoy him, spoken word poetry is indeed a talent.

Now, you may be thinking that season 16 would be a smidgeon of an improvement over season 15. Talent and reality shows should probably strive to become better every season. But if you thought this show isn’t capable of getting any worse, you haven’t been paying attention because this show will always find ways to disappoint. Last night we were told everyone voted for an INSPIRATIONAL speech giver as the winner. Or I’m sorry, apparently he does magic. His name is Dustin Tavella. But the thing is, he was HORRIBLE at both storytelling AND magic and nowhere near deserved the win. “It was well deserved.” How? How is a kindergarten level “magician” worth a million dollars and a Vegas show? I believe the show in Vegas is about an hour and a half and I am curious as to what is he going to do in that timeframe? Talk about how the folks living in Vegas are living in sin while simultaneously throwing paper in the air MAGICALLY? I’m sure the audience will go wild over that. Or maybe during all of his shows he will adopt a kid a day from different countries and then spend about an hour talking about Little ZimZam’s harsh life and while he’s babbling he’ll be semi incorporating his poor magic skills into the act in the last minute so the poster stating he’s a magician didn’t TECHNICALLY lie so nobody is getting their money back. I really don’t know. I have a lot of thoughts.

Plus, his sob story just did nothing for me whatsoever. Good for you for adapting 11 children, unless it has to do with whatever your act is, shut the hell up and do the trick! Not once did this guy impress or give even the best of a performance of the night. It was always 8+ minutes of “inspiration” and tirades about how we as a society need to be good to one another whilst doing crappy magic. Let me tell you, I know next to nothing about magic but even I could tell he was a less than stellar magician. Even calling him a magician is somewhat laughable. In reality he's a motivational speaker who does terrible magic tricks and who always somehow manages to suck at said terrible magic but America apparently doesn’t notice him screwing up his terrible magic because he’s too busy telling them to look at a crumpled up piece of paper or a ladder or the new photograph of his adopted son who has an extra eyeball or whatever. It’s stupid.

Last night for his final performance Dustin’s act was, and I kid you not, telling us all to be nice. FOR SEVEN UNNECESSARY MINUTES. And I do believe he started to fake cry. Dude, you’re acting is about as good as Heidi Klum’s. You can't act and you can barely do magic. Why are you here? What is your talent? Did he really join a talent show to become some type of inspirational God of obvious wisdom? If that’s the case, he should have gone and done a Ted Talk, many less victims of mediocrity that way. America somehow put him in the top 5 with actually talented people? I think not. The act itself was not impressive and he did the same thing every time, just told a different sob story. If you have to rely on a sad story to win, you don’t deserve to win a show where talent is the main objective.

In case my last few paragraphs were not made abundantly clear, I am not a fan of this dude. At all. I read a comment which stated that a message is not a talent and whoever said that is 100% correct and summed up my feelings pretty accurately. I'm not a fan or boring and basic tricks combined with even worse stories. He's the living embodiment of a motivational meme and anyone who voted for this guy is gullible and can fight me. Maybe people “voted” for him because he attempted to pull on the heartstrings? But because I sold my heart long ago his act didn’t effect me as much. /s But I swear every year they make it more clear that the entire show is rigged.

Well, maybe the voting ISN’T rigged entirely and all the boomers (first time I’ve ever used that term) and antivaxxers and easily swayed by sob story people on Twitter and Facebook voted for him. Doubtful, but you never know. HE WAS SO FREAKING BAD!!!

We are all allowed to have opinions and just because you don’t agree with me that doesn’t mean I am an awful person who deserves DEATH. I keep getting responses and messages on Twitter from angry folk who are calling me heartless because I questioned WHY they voted for him. “Well, IIIII gave Dustin all 10 of my votes!” That’s nice Karen. That is also not an answer and I cannot stress enough how much I do not care that you voted for the phony used cars salesman. Go tell your Prince from Nigeria all about it. Another guy got mad and reported me for “yelling at strangers.” Which is kind of a typical thing people do on Twitter. And I wasn’t even yelling! Lol.

And another point I’d like to make (about this and in general) is people really need to stop using the terms “all of us” and the word “we.” I am my own person and you do not get to speak for me.

“We were all crying when we saw him perform!” - No WE most certainly weren’t. I was seething with anger, yes. Crying? Not even close.

“His magic touched all of our hearts!” WHAT MAGIC? WHERE WAS THE MAGIC IN THIS MANS ENTIRE ACT? I MUST HAVE MISSED IT AFTER I PASSED OUT FROM HIS 7 MINUTE LONG STORY ABOUT HIS BORING LIFE.

His win was a complete insult.

* I personally voted for Aidan Bryant, but I really wanted Unicircle Flow to win before they got kicked off due to the judges having a tendency to suck at picking during judges choice. *

Edit: I apologize if this wasn’t articulated very well or if it seems I basically said the same thing over and over. To be fair it was 3 am when I wrote this and I was still irritated and questioning everything. Still doesn’t excuse the fact that this guy was lame and doesn’t deserve a Vegas show. My mom told me earlier today that people on the Internet are mad about his win and that it’s not fair to take it out on the guy, which I suppose is kind of true. Not exactly his fault the general public has failed and shown their stupidity yet again. If anyone is to blame it is the people who actually voted for this doofus. And AGT. And yeah, I guess I will blame him as well. But I’m not saying go to his Twitter or Instagram or whatever and call him out for being a con artist and bully him.

I think the MESSAGE =P I’m trying to display here is that someone has no business being on a talent show unless they have talent; self explanatory. A message isn’t talent. Being a narcissist isn’t talent. Exploiting your kids and wife isn’t talent. Speaking can be a talent (comedy, that poetry guy, acting, improv, probably a lot of other stuff I’m forgetting about) but one shouldn’t call themselves a magician if one is really a way less cool garage sale version of Talky Tina. Magic IS talent but if you want a million dollars you better have skills that are on par or better than the professionals.

#agt #rant #INSPIRATIONAL #Magic #Adoptakid

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platypanthewriter · 4 years ago

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Unless...? (Ch. 8)

Previous | Fic Masterlist

Steve Harrington wants to be best friends with Billy Hargrove. He wants to marry him–as friends–so they’ll always be together, and he’s going crazy, trying not to be weird about it, and scare Billy off. Also he’s in a band, and they run a bar.Billy’s buckling under an onslaught of friendly Harrington flirtation. Also he’s just been hired as the new bartender. For Day 2 of Febuwhump, “I can’t take this anymore.”

In this chapter: Billy's pretty drunk when he comes back to Steve's hotel room, and he wants to see Steve wear the thongs.

Billy eventually hauled Steve back out of the bathroom—Steve was content to stand there forever, with Billy’s earnest, alcohol-redolent breath in his face, listening to him proclaim his undying affection—but Billy yanked his arm. “Come on,” he slurred. “Max’s gonna...give up on us.” Steve splashed some water on his hot face, and then trotted after his fiance.

“Did you just bone my brother on the bathroom counter,” Max asked crisply, not looking up from her menu as they approached the table.

“You know it,” Billy said, laughing, and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Fuck no, that counter’s covered in like ten layers of old hand soap,” Steve said, making a face. “Billy deserves better than old hand soap.”

“Like the alley out back,” Billy muttered, dropping into the booth, and Steve sat too close, elbowing him.

“Like a honeymoon suite,” he countered, and got to hear Max and her brother groan, and watch Billy’s ears turn even redder.

“So I hear Steve has been proposing for like. Months,” she told Billy, who glared at Steve. “You never said a word.”

“He was letting me pine,” Steve said, grabbing the soju away as Billy poured more, and tossing it back.

“Yeah, no more for you,” Max said, grabbing the bottle, and filling her cup. “How come you were still dating that shithead, then?”

“Not enough brain cells,” Billy sighed, and Steve slid an arm around him, then pressed his luck, and a kiss to Billy’s temple, feeling it heat.

“We’re hoping our combined six brain cells are a little smarter,” Steve told Max, and she snorted a laugh—and then smiled a little softer, he thought, watching Billy as he leaned into Steve’s shoulder with a grumbly noise like a drunken bear.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, silently, and Steve flushed. “Be good to him or I’ll kill you,” she added, in a creepily sibilant whisper, and Billy mumbled inquiringly. Steve hugged his head, nodding back at her.

Steve had to half-heft Billy into his hotel room that night, full of barbequed meat and more liquor than was good for either of them, and then help him undress, sliding his hands down Billy’s ass and thighs to get his too-tight jeans off, and crouching between Billy’s knees to pull at his boots. Billy dropped back onto the mattress with a long sigh, and then Steve had to haul him back upright to tug at the buttons on his sleeves, and run his hands over the muscles of Billy’s shoulders to push the shirt off them. He kept pausing to look at Billy’s tattoos, or a couple times because the feel of Billy’s skin was distracting, warm, muscled, a little hairy on his arms and legs, and softer over his stomach and ass. Billy curled away from Steve’s hands on his abs.

“Quit it,” he mumbled. “You don’t care if I do my crunches, right, if I’m not...cut,” and Steve shook his head, running his knuckles over the soft curls that crept out of Billy’s pajama pants toward his bellybutton.

“Nah, you’re perfect,” he said honestly. “You’d be perfect if you turned into that blueberry from the Willy Wonka movie, y’know.”

“...s’weird you don’t give a shit,” Billy sighed, his whole body flushed with alcohol as he watched Steve’s knuckles stroke his side softly.

“If you’re too pretty, people are gonna keep following you home,” Steve told him. “And what if I just like, see you when I’m onstage, and I drop my guitar?”

Billy burst into cackling laughter, his eyes wide. “You think I’m pretty?” he asked breathlessly, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“I have eyes, man,” he told him, and Billy’s smile widened, lazy and delighted.

“You think I’m pretty,” he mumbled, still giggling.

“Of course I do,” Steve told him, reaching up to tuck Billy’s hair behind his ear, and cupping his warm, stubbly cheek to feel him smile. “You’d probably look way better in those thongs,” he sighed. “I look like a moron who forgot to wash his own underwear. Or like, those bastards at the laundromat, you know, that just steal whatever, and you’re like ‘what the hell did you want with one of every sock’.”

“Y-you put them on,” Billy choked out, pushing himself back upright to stare at Steve’s face, and Steve scrambled back, licking his lips. “You wore them?!”

“Uh,” Steve said, his cheeks heating. “I mean, just—just in case you were serious, I wanted it to fit.”

“...I wanna see,” Billy said, drunk and sincere, and Steve couldn’t believe those wide, hazy eyes were lying to him.

He grimaced. “Whatever you’re imagining, it’s probably gonna look more stupid than that.”

“It’s gonna be a religious experience,” Billy said, patting around the bed for his phone, and Steve groaned, rubbing his face.

“Why don’t you wear ‘em,” he tried, “—if you like the damn things so much.”

“You said,” Billy huffed, still slapping the bed for his phone, and pouting, so Steve sighed, grabbed Billy’s phone, slapped it into his outstretched hand, and dropped his pants. Billy made a noise like he’d swallowed a leaking helium balloon, and Steve heard the camera shutter noise.

“You send anybody that picture and I’ll—” break your face, was Steve’s first thought, but then he remembered Billy’s bruises. “—I’ll order pineapple and anchovies on every pizza for the next year.”

“...hurting yourself to hurt me,” Billy huffed.

“I can gag it down,” Steve told him triumphantly, and yanked his briefs off, to another strangled sound from Billy, and more shutter noises. “...I mean it, though, don’t send blackmail pictures to Robin.”

“...blackmail pictures,” Billy said weakly, as Steve set his jaw, closed his eyes, and pulled on the blue thong. His t-shirt partly covered it, thank god, he thought, because his dick was aware there was somebody on his bed even if Billy was a dude, and the friction of the satin was weird, so he had kind of the beginning of a hard-on. He sighed. Billy swallowed, his throat clicking like he needed something to drink. “...take the t-shirt off,” he whispered, and Steve stared back at him.

“Seriously?! You can see how it fits!”

“Come on,” Billy whispered, and Steve groaned, but yanked his t-shirt over his head to more shutter noises. He tried to ignore his stupid cock thinking fancy underwear meant anything on him, and stared past Billy at the ugly 80’s pink and grey motel art. “...you look like somebody’s pulling your teeth,” Billy said.

“...the hell you want,” Steve gritted out. “I look like an idiot.”

“Well, they got me to fucking...agree to marry you, right, you could look like it wasn’t the shittiest day of your life,” Billy said, glowering at his phone, and Steve sighed.

“Okay, what then? Should I like. Pose,” he asked, flexing half-heartedly, and Billy took a weird jerky breath.

“...you really...think you look bad in those,” he rasped out, and Steve snorted a laugh, frowning down.

“I’ve got elastic up my ass,” he said, squirming. “I’m not even sure how I thought they were sexy on women anymore, jesus.”

“You look like a centerfold,” Billy said hoarsely, and Steve—who’d spent nearly a year wondering whether he wanted to be around Billy or just be Billy—felt better instantly.

“...really?!” Steve asked, staring down at his untanned (compared to Billy’s) stomach, and his uninked arms. “...yeah, I’m hot, right?” he asked, laughing with relief. “I know I’m hot, huh, not everybody can look like you.” He twisted his body into a tits-and-ass superheroine pose, pursing his lips at Billy, who made a noise in his throat like he was dying. Steve snickered, and stuck his arm out and up to the side like he was Superman. “Truth, justice, and the American way,” he said, and Billy snorted a high-pitched laugh.

He’d half-covered his face, but he was still snapping pictures, and Steve couldn’t help wanting him to laugh harder, because Billy was cute, pink-cheeked with drink, giggling. Steve spread his arms, hearkening back to a long-ago role in the school production of My Fair Lady. “I have often slept/in this room before,” he began, throwing his arms wide, “—but the carpet always stayed beneath my feet before. All at once am IIIII/several stories hiiiiiigh/knowing I’m in the room where you aaaaare—” he sang, and Billy burst out laughing, letting himself fall backwards on the bed cackling, his hands over his face.

Steve climbed up on the bed again, sitting on Billy’s legs like they were five, and kept going. “AND OHHHHHH, THE TOWERING FEELING,” he belted out, “—JUST TO KNOOOOW/SOMEHOW YOU ARE NEAR—”

Billy shoved at him, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, and turning a little to bury his face in the pillows.

Steve beamed, taking a quick breath. “THE OHHHHVERPOWERING FEELING/THAT ANY SECOND YOU MAY SUDDENLY APPEAR—” he paused, because the neighbors were banging on the walls again, and put his hands on his hips.

“Oh my god,” Billy wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Stop, stop, before they throw us out, jesus christ you fucking loon.”

“Maybe they prefer Elton John,” Steve said thoughtfully, opening his mouth to try some of Your Song, and Billy tackled him to the bed, both hands over Steve’s mouth, which was suddenly kind of awkward, as Steve remembered he was wearing only a thong. He tried to sort of hum that he was disarmed and un-dangerous, but Billy glowered suspiciously, leaning harder to hold his hands over Steve’s mouth, his mouth still quirked as he shook a little with suppressed snickering.

Steve tried not to squirm. Billy’s pajama pants were soft and thin, and Steve could feel thigh muscles through them. Billy’s butt hovered right over his dick, barely bound by the scrap of satin and lace, and it was hard to think of anything but that couple of inches of space between Billy feeling safe as friends, and finding out Steve got idiotically turned on by people thinking he was funny and hot.

Billy was panting, still out of breath from laughing, his chest and abs flexing right before Steve’s eyes, so he closed them, feeling the heat spread over his face. “You gonna behave?” he hissed, and Steve considered shaking his head, so Billy would just...stay on top of him, maybe, maybe fell asleep there, while Steve spent an agonizing night trying not to squirm and Billy breathed contentedly into his neck.

He nodded, instead, and Billy pushed himself up to stretch.

“You’re insane,” he commented.

“Everybody serenades fiances,” Steve said indignantly. “I could read you poetry instead.”

“Holy fuck, no,” Billy hissed, reaching to slap a hand over Steve’s face again, and Steve kissed his hand. He snatched it back like Steve had burned him, swinging his leg off Steve to curl his whole body into the pillows, groaning. “Why are you like this,” he sighed, still laughing.

“You love me,” Steve pointed out, biting his lip uncertainly, and Billy sighed again.

“Yeah.”

Steve dropped down next to him, his shoulder against Billy’s back, and imagined he and Billy in their suits. “We got a fitting tomorrow,” he said softly. “For the suits.”

“...yeah, I know,” Billy said, leaning back against him. “You gonna wear the blue thong? Something borrowed and everything?”

Steve laughed. “Oh. I was thinking white lace. Weddings. Y’know.”

“You...thought about it,” Billy mumbled.

“Dude, I’ve done nothing but think about it,” Steve told him, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I keep thinking you’re gonna say it was all a joke. Thongs, seriously? I’ll wear ‘em every damn day if it keeps you around, man.”

“...bro,” Billy said, laughing into his pillow with kind of a whine.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, grimacing. He swung his legs off the bed, and grabbed his jeans off the floor. “I’m gonna shower,” he told Billy, who was sounding sleepy, and saw what was probably a nod.

In the bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror again, and felt less shitty about being a man in satin and lace, because really, people could just...wear things, he figured, it wasn’t like the fabric cared. Billy’d looked happy as he laughed, and Steve smiled at the thought, and flexed again in the mirror. He was half-tempted to get a little apron or something and make Billy laugh his ass off again.

His dick still hadn’t gotten the message that it wouldn’t be getting any action, and he tried to ignore it fully peeking over the top of the elastic, and the damp spot from his reaction to getting thrown down on a bed. It’d be actually and metaphorically hard to sleep next to Billy without taking care of it, though, and he let himself thumb over the tip, biting back a groan, and trying not to think anything weird about Billy’s weight on him, or the muscles of his forearms as he held Steve down by the face.

He reminded himself of Tommy shoving his hand away, and stalking out of his life, and tried to think about tits as he climbed in the shower, his shoulders hunched.

The feeling wasn’t really the same, he told himself—he knew what he was feeling, watching a woman squeeze into a dress, and thinking about peeling her out of it, but it’d never been clear, as he tried to dress up like Han Solo, what exactly he wanted—to kiss him, or be him, or just be...as cool as him, or maybe just to have a janky spaceship to share with his very best friend.

He peeled out of the thong, his cheeks burning, and stepped into the shower, soaping his hand up. It only took a few yanks before he came over his fingers, thinking annoyingly neither of Billy nor an anonymous woman’s mouth, but ofTommy, how he’d shoved Steve against the doorjamb, and said “Yeah, why shouldn’t I go over to Carol’s again? What you got that’s better than her, huh?”

Steve had been bewildered when Tommy started yanking at his pants, but also drunk, and horny from the porn. The woman onscreen was still panting and begging, her tits jiggling, and it was hot with the heat of an Indiana summer, but their beers were cold. The sound of distant frogs nearly drowned out the grunting on the screen. Tommy’s hands were hot and tight, and at nineteen it didn’t take much. Steve’d woken deep under the surface of a hangover, looking around at his limp, sticky cock half out of his pants, and taken a shower before he even remembered what had happened the night before.

Tommy’d never picked up his calls again.

It hadn’t even been his idea, Steve didn’t think, scrubbing at his hair as his brain went over the familiar ground—Tommy’d yanked at his jeans, while Steve stared like a drunk idiot. He tried to remember—again—whether he’d leaned in too far, or seemed too willing, and growled, sticking his head under the showerhead.

After he towelled off, he slid into bed behind Billy, and slid an arm around him. Billy snorted powerfully, smacking his lips, and rolled over to grapple Steve in closer, smacking a kiss to Steve’s jaw. “...love...babe,” he mumbled, nuzzling his head into Steve’s neck, and tossing a thigh over his legs.

Steve lay motionless, his heart pounding, staring at the ceiling.

In the morning, Billy insisted they couldn’t be fitted together, and see each other before the wedding. Then he drove home.

After the gig the next night, Steve drove home after him. He slowed as he passed Billy’s apartment, but it was four-fifteen in the morning, and he was pretty sure that was grounds for divorce.

He couldn’t stop grinning, and typing text drafts to Billy he didn’t send, and checking the time, so finally he just cleaned—he scrubbed the whole fridge, and pulled all the popsicles and discount steak out to defrost the freezer. If he’d been female, he thought, with kind of a shivery feeling in his stomach, he’d have eaten the popsicles when Billy was over—just sucked them down until he gave himself brain freeze, leaning his head back so Billy could see the muscles working in his cheeks and throat. Steve bit his lips together, sighing, and gripped the counter, wishing the stupid, useless image wasn’t stuck in his head.

The sheets smelled kinda stale, so he washed them, and put another load of laundry in, before checking the time again, seeing it was too early to take Billy any breakfast, and flopping face-first on the couch with a groan.

He awoke to his phone ringing, and answered in a grunted slur of syllables even he couldn’t identify. It was Joyce Byers’ voice, he registered, his brain feeling like its tires were spinning in mud.

“Billy’s sick,” she told him. “He sounds awful. He’s by himself.”

“Enh,” Steve said. “Grungh.”

“...I thought you might be on the road,” she said. “Weren’t you coming back today?”

“M’I’m,” Steve mumbled, and rolled half on his side to prop himself up. “M’here. Drove...las’night.”

“Sorry to wake you, sweetie,” she said, sounding suspiciously like she was laughing. “He’s just as impatient to see you, hon. That’s why I called. He was smiling all night. I had to pinch his pink cheeks.”

“...my pink cheeks,” Steve muttered indignantly, and she laughed again.

“Go take him some cold medicine, okay? Maybe something hot to eat?”

Steve slapped his face a few times to try and get his brain back online, blinked, and frowned worriedly. “Is—is he okay?”

“Sounds like a question for the man himself. We’ve got this, if you don’t want to come in tonight,” she said. “Tell him not to worry about anything, and feel better!”

“O-okay,” Steve said, nodding.

“Make him take a nap too, sweetie,” she said, and hung up. Steve blinked at his phone, and then called Billy.

He didn’t answer.

Steve grimaced, sat down to work on the chords for his nearly-finished song, couldn’t focus, and cleaned the garage. He tried again an hour later, and got no response, so he waited a couple more hours, did all the dishes, and scrubbed the stove.

He kept thinking about being sick, and he started to want soup, so he rummaged through his cupboards, and then pulled out the cookbook Joyce had helped him pick out when he first started living on his own. It had chicken soup in it, and Steve studied the ingredients carefully, jotting them down.

When he got to the part of the recipe that said ‘if using noodles, add them now,’ he stalled out, staring helplessly. He side-eyed the phone, and didn’t call again—Billy was probably asleep, he reminded himself, and there Steve was, waking him up every god damn hour.

He went out and bought sick-person groceries—the soup ingredients, obviously. Kleenex, benadryl, cough syrup, cough drops—and popsicles in case Billy had a sore throat. He got two whole boxes, resolutely not thinking about either of them actually eating them. He got a loaf of bread to slice for thick crunchy toast, and a carton of eggs to soft-boil. He threw some fluffy slippers by the register in, and then circled around again when he remembered tea.

When he knocked on Billy’s door, he kept it fairly quiet, and busied himself setting up a bag with all the things Billy might want—there was no point in giving a sick person the raw carrots for the chicken soup. Just as he was trying to remember whether Billy had a toaster oven, the door opened, and Billy stared down at him, wrapped in a blanket. His nose and lips were red, chapped and peeling.

“Sorry I woke you up, I’ll go away,” Steve told him, standing up, and grabbing both bags of groceries. “But I just need to ask, rice or noodles?”

“Why are you going away,” Billy croaked.

“I, um,” Steve stumbled, uncertain. “But uh, I’m—I’m making chicken soup, so: rice, or noodles?”

“...you’re making me soup?” Billy sighed, leaning against the door jamb. “...what are you doing out here?”

“I brought you stuff,” Steve told him, wincing. “Uh, is it—can I come in?” Billy backed away, tottering over to blow his nose, and Steve came in and kicked the door shut with his feet.

It was both humid and cold, and Steve grimaced into the dim light, watching Billy curl up on the corner of the couch in his jeans and the sweatshirt from their work. He was surrounded by used kleenex. “...I brought…” Steve trailed off, as Billy tried to tuck the blanket over his toes, and not pull it off his head. “...why’s it so cold in here?” he asked, and Billy’s head jerked up.

“It’s fucking cold, right?! I knew the fucking thermostat wasn’t working—” he stopped, sighing.

“Okay, no,” Steve announced. “You’re coming to my place. I promise not to make you sign any, like, prenuptials, come on.”

“...I’m sick,” Billy told him, petulantly, as Steve found his shoes.

“That would be why,” Steve told him, battling to get one arm out of the blanket at a time, and push Billy’s arms into his coat. “You can figure out the thermostat later—I’ll call and fight with them, if you want—but I can see my breath in here.”

Billy submitted to being bundled down the stairs in untied shoes, his coat on, and his blanket wrapped around it, and Steve loaded the groceries back in, handing Billy the box of tissues.

“So,” Steve asked, as he shifted into reverse. “Noodles or rice? I bought both. We could try both, I guess,” he said, considering, and then realized Billy was trying to cover a laugh, which turned into a racking cough. He sounded like the seals at the zoo.

“I don’t give a shit,” he said, finally, when he could talk.

All my Harringrove fic!

#Harringrove #Unless #Steve's bi and confused about it #Billy's gay and dying of pining #They'll figure it out in the last chapter #RIP them

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a-non-ymouswriter · 4 years ago

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iiiii genuinely cannot stop thinking about that rewind au, so sorry to dump all my headcanons on you. onto the ramble!!! theo seeing tommy healing or trying to heal from everything that has happened to him really makes my brain collapse actually. god just theo and toby seeing these younger versions of themselves who more or less went through the same shit they went through and is STILL going through that shit, but theyre trying so hard to heal and grow. theo probably will ignore it for his duties for dream or something but itll be in the back of his mind like “why cant i be like that why cant i be okay” but the static in his mind is saying like “youre with dream you are okay stay loyal or youre nothing”. toby would just be staring wistfully, happy that the younger versions of himself and his best friend are doing okay, broken but healing, wondering if he could be the same someday as well. i want the benchtrio to be kids around toby, i want them to force toby into doing stupid shit like kids do. because somehow, these kids are finally getting the peace they wanted even if the world is collapsing around them. even if they know things will go to shit eventually. and toby and theo are left wondering how.

no haha what are you talking about this is definitely not me projecting my feelings onto the benchtrio whatttt haha. ANYWAY hope u enjoyed that infodump

definitely enjoyed the infodump because it’s very accurate.

it’s literally what toby and theo would actually do, you’ve got them spot on :0

i’m really glad that some people like you enjoy the rewind au so much, i should definitely write more if i get the chance. which i will since my break day is practically over and i’ll be back to writing! first though i’ll see if i can write the next chapter of Rewind. if not, then it’s to the shelves!

you and the others have given me plenty of ideas to work on alongside the ideas that i’ve already got shelved and are wips. i need to actually work on them heh

#asks #my shelves are well stocked #i need to finish my wips #but there's so many #and i have to focus on Rewind #so many good ideas and hcs #ah this is great

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ao3gingerswag · 4 years ago

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Dean’s freakouts get worse for a while and he keeps trying to hide “mistakes” (real or not) that Sam makes extremely frantically trying to protect him. He gets into these like extremely paranoid fits and starts trying to “fix” everything and hide what he thinks are mistakes, with the goal of appeasing Cas’s imaginary anger and disappointment and with the direct goal or stopping him from hurting Sam. Like. It gets to the point that he starts confessing to shit he hadn’t done, and didn’t happen, because he’s trying to “distract” from Sam’s theoretical mistakes. (Like, he’ll be like I DIDN’T FEED LUNA ON PURPOSE when he very obviously did feed her. And he does this with the goal of like distracting from the fact that Sam left a dishrag in the sink.) Sam is like constantly trying to argue with him and reassure him that Cas isn’t gonna hurt them (not that he totally trusts Cas but this is post Cas and Sam emotional cat breakthrough, and post realization that Dean is like. Not stable/rational. And the talk with Cas about that. So he doesn’t trust Cas totally but like he trusts him enough to be like. Dean. Cas isn’t going to literally throw us out to die because I left a dishrag out. He’s not gonna beat you or me because I rolled my eyes at him this morning.)

Sam tells Cas about how this is happening but neither of them really know what to do about it. Sam is exhausted and frustrated, sick of seeing Dean freak out and feeling helpless, sick of trying to argue with him when he’s in a total panic mode and just have his words go completely unprocessed despite being totally true. Finally he just. Smashes a plate or something in front of both Cas and Dean, with the goal of proving once and for all that Cas isn’t gonna hurt him over nothing and Dean can stop panicking. Like he doesn’t plan this ahead of time or anything, he’s just 10/11 and impulsive, so he does it.

Dean FREAKS OUT though, throws himself in front of Sam, crying, arms out jesus style, is like begging Cas not to hurt Sam, waiting to be hit instead. Cas, very sad, comes over and is like :( Dean no. Its ok. i wont hurt you. He gently tugs Dean by his torso into a hug and Dean just collapses, just flings himself into Cas’s arms.

He sits with dean sobbing on his lap for a while, calming him down. While Dean cries into his shoulder he’s like. Sam. Why did you do that. Sam’s like. Well he wouldn’t listen to me about how he doesn’t need to be scared that you’re gonna hurt me. So now I’ve proved it. And Cas is like (insert meme) I guess! He’s like :/ I mean I guess but Sam that was not the most delicate way to go about that now Dean is in hysterics.

At first Sam is like no I’m right. See Dean everything is fine it’s all fine Cas isn’t mad at you or me (lowkey Cas is like uh Sam I’m a little mad at you you kinda set Dean into a panic attack. But that’s not the time to mention it so he doesn’t). But then Dean just keeps crying and shaking and Sam is like Dean. Dean. You don’t have to be scared. Dean it’s ok. Dean stop crying look. It’s fine. I proved it’s fine. Didn’t I prove it’s fine? But Dean doesn’t answer, still hysterical. And slowly Sam is like oh shit. IIIII don’t this worked the way I thought it would. So he starts to be like. :/ Dean I’m sorry. But Dean doesn’t look at him he’s so overwhelmed and like maybe close to mad at Sam for the first time ever. Maybe Sam gets kinda insistent cause he’s freaked out and is like I SAID I’m SORRY did you hear Dean. Dean Dean did you hear me. :( ;~; and Cas is just like *sigh* Sam leave your brother alone. I’m gonna take Dean to bed he’s had a long day. So he helps Dean up the stairs and puts him to bed.

And Sam is alone and all shaken bc he was just trying to help but like obviously he’s realized he fucked up pretty bad. And he’s just sort of hanging out alone and freaked and then Cas comes back down like. K he’s asleep. And Sam is like :o cause he didn’t expect Cas to come back, he thought he would just stay up there with Dean and ignore Sam. But ofc Cas comes back, bc Sam needs to talk as well.

Sams like :/ is Dean mad at me. And Cas is like. :/ maybe. I’m not good with people. But I think he might be. He has the right to be, that wasn’t great Sam. and Sam’s like ;~; I wasn’t trying to hurt him i was just trying to help. And Cas is like I know. And i think Dean knows too. But like. You cant do that shit. It’s not fair to him. You cant trigger him on purpose to prove a point.

And Sam is like! But I wasn’t just being a jerk, the point I was trying to prove is that he doesn’t have to be scared!!!! And Cas is like Sam. I know. But Dean doesn’t get scared and freak out because of rational reasons. Dean freaks out because he’s traumatized. He can’t help it. It’s like an instinct. And you can’t explain it away or prove it wrong dramatically in one night. It’s going to take time for him to heal. A very long time. And it never will totally. Like we talked about. (aka the conversation comparing Dean’s mind to a scar that aches sometimes.) I know you want to help him. But you ARE helping him, every day, by being his brother and being continuously kind and his friend. You can’t help him heal more or faster by pulling stunts like that bc you’re frustrated and want him to get better quicker. The only thing you can do to help him more is be patient and understanding about his irrational fears, and not get angry with him for not being able to think the way people who haven’t been through what he has do.

And Sam is like ;~; ok. Should I say sorry. And Cas is like. Yeah, probably. And Sam is like. ;~; ok I will.

And then he does the next day he’s like I’m sorry Dean I’m sorry i hurt you. I was trying to help I wanted to prove you don’t have to be scared but instead I just scared you really bad. And it wasn’t my intention but it also wasn’t on accident, I knew you would get upset and I did it anyway bc I thought I knew better and could prove that you were wrong about being afraid. But that was really dismissive of your feelings and made it seem like I don’t think they matter. And they do matter. And I know you have real reasons that you get scared the way you do. And it doesn’t really matter whether the way you feel is “wrong” or “right,” it just matters that you’re feeling that way. I’m sorry and I will never ever scare you on purpose again. And Dean is like ;~; Sammy I love you so fucking much.

#ao3gingerswag #wander home #ideas #wander home one shots #prompts

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zuffer-weird-girl · 5 years ago

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Where kaito and kin planned ?? Did Kai have a preference like he wanted a boy or a girl?? Also you have mention in other post about the first time Kai saw Kaito in the ultrasound do you have a scenario about that or would you be willing to write about it ??:0

Here we go.

A snap of fingers broight him back to reality... only noticing shortly later that he had dozed off.

"Overhaul?" Chrono called right besides him, one hand on his front while the other had a firm grip on the quivering girl... Eri...

Chisaki stopped for a bit to look at the child, no emotions present, only staring at it... before sighing and returning to walk towards the experiment room.

"Eri don't make this even more complicated than you already do." He said monotonously before he froze on his steps, worring his childhood friend a bit.

"... cancel the experiments for now." He said suddenly before making his way to get out of the underground base he had created.

"What? Why?"

"I have something to do. I will be back before the afternoon, take her to her room and put someone to keep a eye on it." He turned to send one side cold glare.

"No escaping. Understood?" The girl teared up and looked down while trembling as he monotonously made his way out.

"Come on-!" You cursed under your breath as you tried to open a can of cookies that one precept had bdoight due to your husband's commands.

Tried.

"Just hand it over. We're going to be late." You scoffed at hearing your husband's monotomous voice as you groaned at trying again to push that tin off.

"No!" You protested and even if you weren't looking at him you knew he had arched one of his damn perfect eyebrows up "First, I need a snack so screw it, the doctor that waits for us. And second-" you groaned again, applying all of your force on that cursed thing "I'm a strong independent woman that acn still open a pot with no he-"

Chisaki snatched the pot out of your hands before opening it easily with a 'plop' sound. One eyebrow evidently arched up as he placed the pot on the counter.

"... I eased up for you." You mumbled with a pout before snatching one intere cookie on your mouth.

He hummed in sarcasm while crossing his arms, trying not to smirk at the adorable pout you had on your lips while you eated the sugary things.

"Right. Just like the heroe society is one of the best things in this world for me." He messed up with your hair even despite your whines of protest before flipping your forehead.

"We need to go now. I need to know what mutant of a demon and a angel is exactly inside of you."

"KAI!" you exclaimed but with a disbelieved smile no less as he opened the door for you to pass first.

"Is not a lie."

"Kai please don't kill the doctor." You pleaded as much silent as you could while you two walked the halls.

"Don't touch, doesn't get killed. Simple as that." He mumbled under his mask with a piercing glare at the doctor in front of you two.

"For God's sake, is a woman!" You whispered yelled "And I know her for ages now!"

"Still is sick." He snarled back "I read her profiles angel, she has a quirk that helps her on this job... disgusting."

"Kai plea-"

"Alright (Y/n)!" The older woman clapped her hands together and showed it to you another room "Go in there and put on the mantle so we can get started!" You nodded with a grateful smile, quickly rubbing your thumb on Chisaki's palm before going inside to change.

Chisaki sighed and took a seat, glaring at the smile the woman sended to him.

"Geez never took little old (Y/n) to have such a grumpy husband. Chin up daddy! You're about to meet your child in no time!" She exclaimed excitedly while she turned on the machine and prepared the machine.

He was about to get up to threaten her if it wasn't for your shy self getting out, blue mantle covering from your shoulder until thd middle of your thighs.

You layed down and sighed nervously, boucing a bit your leg in excitement and anxiousness.

"You two decided on names yet?"

Small talk... how he hated those.

"No..." both of you answered in synchrony, making the woman laughed while she placed the gloves of latex on.

He arched a eyebrow at that. He respected and at lleast she did a decent job on putting those... but the moment she had grabbed a gel for you to apply on yourself he got... confused.

The quirk of the woman consisted on a X-ray vision... some devices that connected to her glasses and the machine make it possible for her to show any fractures and even fetus to other people along with the machines.

She wasn't doing it...

"What's your deal?" He spated, placing a protective hand on your shoulder as both woman tilted their heads "You're not using your quirk, illness." He growled.

"Ah that!" She laughed before picking up the device "Ask your wife about it! Not ma fault!" She pushed a chair close to you.

He glared down at you, trying not to let his guard down at the smile you gave it to him.

"I asked for her to be the traditional way you know? No quirks, no powers... only the fashion old way." You whispered, giggling a bit at the way your husband's eyes widened a bit before returning it back to normal in a fraction of seconds with a 'I see.'

Always going out of your way to do these things for him? He was a goddamn blessed devil to have such a perfect angel on his arms...

You yelp a bit at feeling the cold material touching your skin as the woman laughed, deciding to start a small conversation with you since your husband she could sense it he didn't want it to speak much.

"Alright... is a bit difficult but I think Iiiii-" she squeezed her eyes a bit as she still moved the tool before she jerked a bit on her chair "AHA! GOT IT! SNAP!" she pressed one button on the device before pointing at the screen, laughing at both yours and Chisaki's confused as fuck face.

"Listen you two." She pointed at a small white part "This is the head of your little one!" You gasped with a open smile, turning it a bit to see Kai... with wide eyes staring at the screen.

"Following we can see the body... tiny hands... and adjusting just a bit the angleeeeee..." she moved the machine, not takung her gaze away from the screen "We can see that..." she smiled warmingly at the scene before looking at you both.

"Congrats you two, a healthy and beautiful baby boy!"

Your breath was taken away as you smiled with a bit of tears in your eyes, the woman placing the device with a 'fuck it I already took the picture GIVE ME A HUG!' as she opened her arms and hugged you close while you laughed, rubbing your tears.

While in the other hand, Chisaki was simply... astonished, out of words... breath stolen.

The realization that this was his child there had definitely hitted him like a train only on that moment, sure he knew of your pregnancy ever since you told him but...

Seing a completely new life, gerated by a fruit of love that involved you and him was... shocking.

He made that life. He made that fetus...

He created along with his angel a soon to be a boy on this world...

He hasn't said more than one world ever since you both left that place, arriving on the Shie Hassaikai house to take a shower...

He was supposed to go back to his experiments but... something felt... different at only comimg to his head the thought of...Eri.

"Angel that woman gave you the-" he stopped talking the moment he saw you holding them on your hands while sitting on the couch.

He sighed before taking a seat close to you, analyzing alongsides with you.

Your fingers traced delicately the form of the legs while your other subconsciously went to your growing belly to carress it... Without any of his control, his own gloved fingers went to touch the area where the little head was forming it.

"Kai oh my god..." you whispered with a hand on your mouth, looking up at him with teary eyes.

"What?" He growled before widening his eyes at you pointing at both his and your eyes...

Oh.. he was with one tear on both of his eyes...

He scoffed at that and immediately went to rub it away before your gently fingers beat him on it.

"Thank you..." you whispered before touching forehead with him "For giving me such a beautiful and unique gift Chisaki Kai."

"You are the one who I should be thanking for... although I have to admit..." his eyebrows furrowed, making your frow as well in concern.

"This kid. They have me as a father. I don't think I would be one of the... most suitable ones." He sighed while closing his eyes, placing his gloved hand on the plave his son was growing.

"Chisaki Kai I am a first parent too mister." He opened his eyes again, arching his eyebrow "Both of us surely wont know what the fuck is going on by the first few weeks." You giggled at the pinch in your side.

"Language brat." He smirked behind his mask at your smile.

"Back on, most people would say the same to you as a lover, and as always, you rubbed their disgusting faces on the asphalt... proving them wrong."

"Is different." He growled.

"Maybe. But is still half me and half you in here...we won't be perfect, but we will try... and that is already enough for our son, Im sure of it. He will never suffer on his life if both of us show what we already feel for him."

Our son... his son suffering. His angel's son suffering... that seentence gave him the worst of the chills.

The feeling of deja vuu hitted him completly as scenes of his experiments went through his head... he hesitantly looked down at the ultrasound and mentally wimced at only imagining his own child passing through... what he did with her.

Shit. What was happening to him?

"Although both os us know what I am capable of after what I went through." He sighed while laying his head on the back of the couch "Pops was explendid on my creation but the same can't go to those prokects of humans..." he clenched his jaw at remembering his biological parents... his father probably burning in hell while his project of a mother was still somewhere on the streets.

"You're not like them my devil." You reminded him.

"I have their disgusting parts of DNA... and imagine if him, a half pure being growing up to become something similiar of what I once was or even worse? Imagine the chaos." He said nonchalantly while you shook your head

"Pure this pure that. You know the difference here Kai? Every human is unique... I know who you are..." you sighed with a smile, laying your head besides his and broughting the photo up for both of you see "And this little one, will be the luckies little mobster to have the Chisaki's name. No wonder why I wanted it so badly when we married." You cooed the last part, turning your head to stare lovimgly at him.

"And you know what else?" You whispered, catching his attention as he turned his head to you "This boy will grow up in the yakusa, but with actual good and decent parents, whose will care and love him... will you? My devil?"

His heart did one of the worst flips in his chest as he looked into your eyes... imagine if you even discovred a bit of what he already did with a child...

Experiments after experimwnts, nursing her back to health only to put it back again for more and more...

The images of a little boy replaced the girl and that only got worse... your face of horror, the shouts of his parents... all coming like a desperate train on his mind.

"... this is my creation with you my angel. I maybe not be the bets for those things still..." he placed his gloved hand on your belly while the kthed cupped your cheek "I won't fail on my job of keeping you both safe and unharmed."

"I love you so much that it hurts..." you whispered with a smile at him, he brought you close to touch foreheads again with a sigh before lowering his mask down to connect his lips with yours and a sweet and passionate synchrony... enjoying the warmth that your body brought to his.

He...needed to find another way...

"You sure about that Kai? It's been a long time since you planned those things... aren't you going to tell Pops about it?" Chrono asked while walking not much away from Chisaki in the middle of three a.m on the base of the Shie Hassaikai.

Kai had demanded his oresence before he went to his room, widening his eyes at what the young man told him before nodding with uncertain.

Sure, the plan was fucked up, but it was a way of bringing the yakusa back from the shadows... and he knew how stubborm and straight forward Kai was with whatever he wanted.

So... why the sudden drastic change of plans?

Kai didn't said a world... only his and Hari's sound of steps on the area... before they stopped on the front of the oh so familiar door.

Chisaki sighed before opening it, not bothering if he was waking up the girl or not.

Eri widened her eyes immediately and muffled her terrified gasp at seing both men, standing on the other side of the door.

Golden yes piercing her sould before she almost sweared that the man hshe feared was shivering a bit before he averted his gaze from her.

For his son...

"You no longer will be used to my plan." He said after regaining his posture, glaring down at her.

For the family he finally could have it on his damn life...

"Your things will be packed soon, and you will be moved to a place where other people can keep a eye on you." He said darkly, Chrono geffing imprissed at seing that it was for real that Chisaki was saying this... without a hint of hesitation or regret on his voice neither eyes.

For his wife... he would do anything. Anything to not lose her...

"You are free Eri." The girl widened her ruby eyes at the man's words before he glared at her "Don't make me regret my decision, don't return. Just stay with those whose are from your own kind." He spitted the words before turning his back to her and leaving the room, allowing a bunch of man to enter to start helping on the change.

Hari, now walking besides his childhood best friend, decuded that now was better than ever.

"Mind me asking what was the miracke that made you change your mind? Or just leave it at that?" Chisaki took it from his pocket a folded black thing before handing it to Chrono with two gloved fingers, gaze still locked on his front.

Kurono took it and unfolded the image before widening his eyes a bit and smirking.

"This uh?" He asked with a smirk, not minding the scoff Chisaki gave it to him as he returned his gaze at the ultrasound "Have no idea wjere its what... but I can guess that this is my godchild or something?"

"You're NOT being the godfather of of my son Chrono." He growled back.

"Ah so its a boy, nice. Godson. And by the way; (Y/n) said it was no problem and even agreed with it."

"But I didn't. Stay away from my son block head."

He almost laughed but decided ti stay quiet...

So things were going to change a bit on the Hassaikai...

"Man just wait until Pops know about this, he will print it..."

"That's why I am not showing it."

#overhaul x reader #overhaul scenario #fanfic overhaul #overhaul #chisaki kai imagine scenario #chisaki kai x reader #kai chisaki #chisaki kai #bnha au #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha characters #bnha villains #bnha #bnha fanfiction #my writing #zuffer writings

259 notes · View notes

specialmindz · 6 years ago

Photo

”NYEH!!”

“nope! try again bro,” said Sans, smiling with his arms outstretched.

“WHAT DA’ FRIGGIN’ HELL SNAS?! WHY I CAN’T DO DIS?”

“keeeep practicing pappy, you’ll get it! hee hee hee!” He laughed as Papyrus gave him an angry look, probably thinking he was being made fun of, though that really wasn’t the case. Sans had actually been trying to help Papyrus; help him stay Determined so he’d have a better chance of learning his unique Karma attack, which even his own father gave up on quite some time ago, but unfortunately, it seemed like his taunting wouldn��t be enough, as the baby bone’s frustration was beginning to become more and more apparent with each passing failure.

His brother wasn’t a full Wingdings, but he definitely shared their impatience, which was what caused that particular member of the Dingbat family to multitask. If Papyrus didn’t pick up on something as quickly as he liked, he’d soon put it aside for later and move on to something else, and if he couldn’t master the comedian’s Karma technique with his FULL attention, then, well…

“WHY DIS HAPPENING TO ME? DIS AIN’T RIGHT! I’S THE MASTERPIECE, YOU’S THE ROUGHDRAFT! I’S SUPPOSED TO BE BETTER AT ERYTHING!!”

Gaster stood by the Nursery’s doorway observing the two, clipboard in hand, “I believe it may have something to do with his soul’s value…”

“Nyeh?”

“Sans values Integrity above all else, as represented by his soul’s blue coloring. Integrity itself is defined as doing what one believes is the right thing no matter what,” Gaster flipped through the papers attached to his clipboard.

SHIF SHIF!

“Kay’.”

SHIF SHIF SHIF!

“…”

SCRIBBLE SCRIBBLE!

“pfft! dad…”

Gaster stopped writing and looked up from his clipboard to see his son pointing down at Papyrus, who was staring at him with a smile from the floor. “What?”

“Are you’s gonna finish dat thought, or…?

“Hadn’t planned on it. I figured since you’re sooo much smarter and better than everyone else, you could do it yourself-”

“NYEH!” Papyrus tried the Karma attack on Gaster and failed.

“eeeasy lil’ bro…”

“Hatred is not the key Snas.”

CA-THUNK!

Seeing his father leave the Nursery and shut the door behind him, Papyrus’s whined and plopped down on the floor. “Nyeh-haaaa…Daddy went away…”

“that’s probably cause’ you tried to attack him pap.”

“I’s just trying to learn the Caramel…”

“karma, pappy. it’s called the ‘karma’ attack.”

“Kar-ma…?” Papyrus scratched his skull with a tiny hand, feeling as if he’d heard that word before. “Waz karma Snas? Is popcorn?”

“nope. Those are kernals. ‘karma’ is what happens when you either do good or bad things. If you’re a good person, your karma will be good, but if you’re bad…”

“…”

“it *sigh* it’ll be bad pappy. your karma will be bad.”

Could he really not figure that out on his own?

“OOOOHHH! Is soul-glow!”

“soul-glow…?” Now Sans was confused. He hadn’t expected his baby brother to understand what he meant COMPLETELY, but Papyrus had surprised him before with his impressive intellect and “unique” way of thinking. Maybe he had figured out what Gaster meant when he said his integrity played a key role in his attack; Sans certainly hadn’t.

The ability was discovered on accident actually, when he noticed Papyrus about to do something the infant KNEW he wasn’t supposed to be doing…that being climbing on top of their father’s chair and using their computer while it was still online. They were SUPPOSED to wait in the office quietly while their father completed their checkups and put the new information into the computer as the children were no longer allowed in the Medical Ward, possibly due to it being too crowded and idea of allowing his brother into a room full of sick people being the worst one ever. Unfortunately, being impatient to move on to whatever task he had waiting next in line, Gaster had seemingly forgotten to make sure the boys had left the room before him, but no doubt he’d be back once his mistake was realized to yell at his younger sibling.

Lying on the couch and caught between not giving a crap and caring for his little brother, Sans lazily raised a hand and swiped it to the left, pretending to move Papyrus via the psychokinesis he didn’t have.

He did not expect to actually send the baby flying into a cabinet.

“NYEHAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!”

CRAH-THUMP!

The sound of the cabinet doors splintering and his tiny brother’s body thudding against the wooden back from inside, made Sans wince. Any other infant would be either dead or sporting more than a few broken bones, but Papyrus’s baby formula had something in it that made him stronger and more durable than other newborns. Kicking a broken piece of door, he stomped out of the cabinet, scanning the room with his eyes for the oh-so-funny, soon-to-be dead mother FUCKER who thought they could throw him around like Scrappy Doo.

“WHO DID DAT?! WHO DA’ FEEGIN’ HELL DID DAT?!”

“holy cra-bro are you all right?”

“DAT YOU BOO BOO? WHOEVER DID DAT BETTER COME OUT RIGHT NOW OR THEY GONNA DIE!!”

“i doubt it was napstablook pappy.”

Undaunted, Papyrus ignored his older brother and waited patiently for the perpetrator to come out and admit their crime…but nobody came. He looked around the room once more, his confusion turning into concern upon seeing his lie ignored.

The Blook family were music lovers like himself, this he knew. If they weren’t listening to it, they were dancing or creating it, meaning not a single soul in their family tree was deaf. By that logic, the Verbal Font’s audio hypnosis should have worked on them…so why didn’t anyone appear? Where there more ghost monsters in the Underground? Ones Papyrus didn’t know about? Ones that liked to throw babies?

“Nyeh? NAH! NOOOOOO! DADDYYYY!”

BLOOSH!

Papyrus fired his gaster blaster below him as he felt himself began to rise into the air once more. He had HOPED to hit the legs of whoever was attempting to pick him up, but it only resulted in a small crater forming in the office tile.

“NYEHHHHHHAAAAAAHHHH!!!! DADDYYYYY, SAVE DA’ BABY!!”

“heh heh heh heh…”

“IS NOT FUNNY SNAS! GO GET THE SLEEPY WATER AND SAVE THE BABY!”

“you want me to throw a whole bottle of chloroform on you just to-”

“GET DA’ SLEEPY WATERRRRR!!” Screeched the panicked infant, swinging his fists and kicking his tiny legs wildly.

“iiiii dunno bro, that doesn’t sound safe. chloroform is metabolized into trichloro methanol, which metabolizes into phosgene, and that’s toxic-”

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT YO’ STINK SCIENCE!!”

“long term effects of inhalation involve cancer, since chloroform is a confirmed carcinogen verified through multiple epidemiological studies, and i know epidemiology is the study of diseases in animals and humans, but our species is hella close baby bro.”

“SNAS!!”

“i don’t really study epidemiology, but you know how dad gets when you get him talking about fonts and science, apparently virus fonts are super dangerous.”

“…”

“i can’t remember what kind of cancer he said you’d get if i gave you too much chloroform, but regardless, i don’t think you should be anywhere near it anyway to be honest. a human baby, possibly even a baby monster would be dead by now if they were in YOUR uh…feet…pajamas. why’re you looking at me like that?”

“…Why your hand up for so long?” asked the baby bones, eyeing his brother suspiciously.

“what? i exercise.”

“Only yo’ mouth. You do dis?”

“nope.”

Sans put his arm down and Papyrus dropped to the floor.

“NYEH!”

“hey! be careful with my little broth-”

“Shut up Snas, I know is you.”

CA-THINK!

“whaaaat? noooo, that was just coincidence baby bro,” said Sans, watching his father walk into the room. The scientist looked once at the broken cabinet and then at the crater Papyrus had made before fixing his glare on the infant.

“I know when you’s lying big Buther.”

“you don’t think it was coincidence? hmm…maybe i’m being framed. what do you think?”

“I think you’s an asshole.”

“i was asking dad.”

Not that he’ll find this impressive, but maybe the mystery will keep him from yelling about the office damage. Though what I REALLY want is to avoid another computer argument. I know he’s gonna accuse Pappy of something, even though HE’S the one who forgot to log off.

…

How DID I do this?

“Sans, what happened?”

“SNAS THROWED THE BABY!”

“SHUT UP PAPYRUS!”

“I highly doubt that.”

“NO, HE DID! HE DID THROW DA’ BABY! SNAS A JEDI!”

“Sans is a what…?”

Speak clearly Papyrus!

“he thinks i threw him into the cabinet even though i didn’t.”

“You really didn’t huh? Well dat’s good big Buther, cause’ if you did, I’d throw you in court! THEN you’d has a reason to raise your hand and lie to eryone…”

“i don’t get it,” said Sans, confused.

“In court they makes you pace yo’ hand on the bib-el and then you raise your other one and-”

“*PFFT!* did you just say ‘bib-el?” He immediately burst out laughing, much to the baby’s annoyance.

“Nyeh? Why you laugh? They not do that no more?”

“It’s pronounced BYE-ble, not ‘bib-el’ Papyrus, and it’s not something you should be reading.”

“Nuh-uh! It’s got the word ‘bib’ in it, so it MUST be for babies! Is the holy book of baes!”

“No.”

“It ’twas written by Jesus and his saints-”

“that part you got right.”

“No, no he didn’t. Moses wrote the Bible Sans. Your brother speaks nonsense as per usual.”

“Nope, it was Jesus all right. Moses made condoms,” said the baby, matter-of-factly.

“Commandments.”

“Condiments.”

“moses invented ketchup?!”

“No child. Papyrus, stop filling your brother’s skull with blather! Our family already has a bad reputation and some people still talk to Sans-”

“Dat’s right big Buther! He turned a whole ocean into ketchup and then made it split apart so he and his peoples could walk across it. Today, is called da’ Red Sea.”

“Shut up Papyrus.”

“cooooool!”

“Yep, he very cool. He from Egypt too, just like da’ baby!”

“Your FONT is from Egypt, YOU are American-”

“Is too bad he not one of Jesus’s saints…least I don’t think he be. I not read the whole bib-el yet and I doesn’t know all the saints. I know there be twelve dough!” The infant tapped his chin thoughtfully as if trying to remember them all.

Not that Sans believed his brother knew a single thing about the Bible or religion in general. Their father said it was a dangerous tool humans used to harm others, including their own species, and that it slowed down scientific progress. Out of curiosity however, Sans paid a visit to the “librarby” to see for himself, having been taught early that taking his family’s word for absolutely anything was usually a poor decision. Pulling it out of the history section, he opened it to find that it was for the most part, unreadable…at least to him, though that word was often used by Sans to describe books he found boring rather than indecipherable.

He could read it all right, but there were too many names and the sentences at times made him feel as if he were having a conversation with Papyrus during one of the baby’s…odd, moments. Those uncomfortable moments where his little brother would cease his baby-talk, sometimes altogether, and suddenly age in personality, speaking to him clearly with an unmistakable air of authority. It made the comedian even more uncomfortable when he spotted the word “Egypt” several times though he was only on page seven of…Genesis 15:2…?

What kind of a name is that for a chapter?

“You don’t know anything about the Bible OR religion!” Gaster’s angry voice pulled Sans from his thoughts. “You live in a place of SCIENCE and I made sure to keep those kinds of books out of here!” exclaimed the scientist.

The Sans Serif, though curious as to what his brother thought of religion, chose not to say anything in this regard. He could understand his father’s concern. He couldn’t read a lot of the book without falling asleep, but what he did read told him that it was a collection of short stories that went either two ways; people obeyed God’s orders and turned out the better for it, or they didn’t and suffered severe consequences. With one of those orders being believe in the book, he could see how people could use the Bible to control others…how people like his brother could use it to control others. All it would take is one dedicated liar to “translate” it for people too lazy to make their own interpretations. His brother could cause a lot of damage and according to Gaster, some people already had.

Were the witch trials real or did Dad make that up?

“The librarby still gots the bib-el! I go there allll the time to get the knowledge, so I be smart when I gets big. I knows more than half the saints now,” replied the baby bones proudly. “There’s St. Nick, also known as Santa…you know him already Snas.”

Sans snickered and turned his attention to Papyrus. “i do? oh yeah! i heard santa clause was called st. nick at one point, i didn’t know he helped write the bible though…”

I don’t think he’s read it.

“bib-el. Yeah, he wrote it with Jesus and even let his widdle buther St. Stephen help too, cause’ he nice like you~”

“santa has a brother?”

“Yep! They twins like us! He born on December twenty-six dough cause’ of com-pli-cations. He liked to hide things in boxes and pay da’ tricks! He take his buther’s toys and when Santa say ‘where my toys be?’ Stephen go, ‘I don’t know big Buther, where DO your toys be?”

RA-CAKCAKCAK!

Sans turned his head to see Gaster pouring a bottle of aspirin onto the office table near the computer. “stephen doesn’t sound very nice bro, ha ha!”

“Nahhh, he just misunderstood. Like da’ baby. You gots to read between the lines Snas! He hide the toys so when Santa forget about them and open a box, he get all surprised and happy! ‘Wowie! I forgot I hads this! Imma pay wit it all day!’ Then sneak Stephen steal the old BORING toys and hide THEM so they seems new in the footure! Is the perfect plan big Buther…”

“is that where santa got the idea of sending gifts to people in boxes pappy?”

“Sure is! All the saints be amazing Snas. St. Patrick the lepperkahn invented the color gween. He wanted the cover of the bib-el to be gween, but Jesus say no cause’ people might drop it in the grass and lose it. Not a lot of roads in the B.C. era ya’ know?”

“b.c?”

“Before Concrete.”

RATTLE!

“you’re not supposed to take that much dad…”

“St. Valentine be the Saint of Sweets. He had fan trouble like Babybop.”

“she’s…she’s not babybop papyrus. i keep telling you, alphys-”

“Unfortunately, they not have pastic surgery in B.C, that came AFTER concrete, A.C.”

“i thought a.c. meant air conditioning?”

“In history it mean After Concrete. They used to use A.D. After Dinosaurs, but lossa stuff came after dinosaurs, so they changed it.”

“ohhh...gotcha.”

Sans smiled at his little brother. Despite how annoying he could be with his constant lying, the comedian did in fact admire his ability to come up with bullshit on the fly. It made him wonder how useful he’d be if Sans ever were to actually get a job as a comedian. Comedians themselves were supposed to tell stories about things that happened to them in life whilst making funny commentary along the way, but HE was stuck under a mountain and had no close friends other than Papyrus and possibly Alphys. What was Sans even supposed to talk about when NOTHING ever happened to him? Being an Insult Comic was out as he only had 1 hp and was stuck seeing the same people probably for the rest of his life, puns were a spur of the moment thing and were meant to amuse the teller rather than the audience, ventriloquism wasn’t fair and wouldn’t work unless he somehow hide his text box…was he really stuck with just talking about his little brother behind his back? It certainly seemed that way.

Unless Papyrus wants to make something up for me. I’m sure he would, he’s so cool. I hope I make enough G to share with him…

“So St. Valentine? He was REAL popular. He create chalk-wit and eryone lost their minds! Too many hunnies for the chalk-wit bunny.”

“he was a rabbit pappy?”

“Nope, he was Aztec. Had a weird name baby can’t say or spell good. Quetzycoat? Quozzy motto? Dunno, but it suck…glad he move away and change it to Valentine. Moved allll the way to Europe where he met St. Peter the soon-to-be Easter Bunny. It was St. Valentine that made it happen big Buther. All the hunnies follow him saying stuff like ‘be mine, Valentine!’ and ‘give me yo’ heart!’ Not good to say to an Aztec Snas, even dough it mean something else in Europe.”

“what does it mean in aztec bro?”

“I want to remove your heart.”

Sans sockets went dark, but he chose not to say anything.

I’ll have to work with Papyrus to make sure his stories aren’t too dark before I use them.

“St. Peter got realll jealous when he saw erybody giving Valentine attention. So what if he made chalk-wit? He not cute like Peter Rabbit! St. Peter was fluffy as hell! Where was Valentine’s fluff? NOWHERE! Where was his cotton ball tail? ABSENT! HE DIDN’T EVEN APPRECIATE!”

“ugh, damn pap chill!” cried the comedian, pressing his hand against one of his earholes, “you’re not auditioning for a movie, take it down a notch…”

“I just wanted you to understand the rabbit Snas…”

“i understand the rabbit baby bro, don’t you worry.”

“Kay’. So you know why St. Peter had to steal his secrets to making chalk-wit and build his own factory in England then.”

“no…?”

“Is cause’ he was JEALOUS Snas! Daz why. Being a rabbit wasn’t good enough anymore, he had to be a CHALK-WIT rabbit. St. Valentine took it the wrong way dough, he see the factory and think ‘ohhhh, I gets it! If people can get chalk-wit at the store, then I won’t be popular no mores and people will go way! Dis rabbit is so nice. Dis rabbit is my friend.’ He told Jesus all about St. Peter and how nice he was and cause’ of him, he got to be a saint! Peter Rabbit was grateful too, he wasn’t a bad bunny. All he wanted was some infection…”

“affection.”

“Yeah that. Defection. He thought Valentine was being forgiving and stuff, so they became best friends. They shared recipes and gotted famous erywhere!”

“aww, well that’s nice-”

“…Then St. Peter died of the Black Plague and erything started all over again.”

“y-yeah that’s pretty much how all of your stories end. i don’t know what i was expecting.”

Need to work on his endings too.

“Don’t worry big Buther, there be a happiness dis time. St. Valentine eventually moved again and changed his name to Willy Wonka and people stopped trying to marry him. No one want the last name Wonka Snas.”

“heh, well when you’re right you’re right. papyrus wonka doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue now does it?”

“…”

“what?”

“Don’t ship the baby Snas.”

“*pfft!*”

“Another saint you might know be St. Michael.”

“And what holiday is he ripped from?” asked Gaster, finishing off the water he’d taken with his aspirin. Sans had forgotten he was even in the room.

“Nyeh?” Papyrus looked confused. “Michael not have a holly-day. You cwazy Daddy, nyeh heh heh!”

“No one here is stupid enough to believe you’re going to just SUDDENLY take this conversation seriously Papyrus. St. Michael might be a real saint, but I know-”

“I’s ALWAYS serious!” exclaimed the infant, interrupting the scientist. “Snas the silly bones, not me! Dis a very serious subject and I’s born to TEACH!”

“That is literally the last thing someone with your font should be doing where religion is concerned.”

“St. Michael and St. Peter were really good friends ya’ know…”

“Don’t you ignore me.”

“They pay basketball together once and saved the world even! He still alive too, even today.”

“is…is he talking about michael jorden?”

“I guarantee you, that’s exactly who he’s talking about.”

“He flies like an eagle.”

“Yep.”

“Yeah! Daddy knows! You watched the docky-mentry right? Where the black human went to da’ center of the earth and-”

“Space Jam was NOT a documentary. It was just a video you happened to find at the Dump. You know, the place I’ve asked you countless times not to go? Admittedly, I didn’t actually watch it as I’m none too fond of guilt films, but the soundtrack alone-”

“th-that wasn’t a ‘guilt film’ dad,” said Sans hiding his face in his hands.

Goddamnit…

“It wasn’t? Are you sure?”

“positive.”

“It wasn’t about a black human attempting to join and fit in with a basketball team comprised of monsters?”

“no.”

“Is about St. Michael helping his rabbit friend ah-scape slavery.”

“So it IS a guilt film.”

“no!”

“Let me guess, the black human was their star player and he was the one to save the day?”

“Yeah!”

“Psh.”

“Erybody wanted to be like Mike, so he gave them some magic water dat made them really good at the basketball.”

“He…gave them something to enhance their performance?”

“it wasn’t drugs dad! it wasn’t even really magic. he was trying to teach them that they had the power to be just as good as him, they just needed to believe in themselves. to put it in a way you’d understand, he used the placebo effect to his advantage.”

“Gazebo?”

“Ah, deceit. Very smart…are you sure Mr. Jordan came up with this? I’m not saying all black humans are unintelligent, but he IS in the sports industry, is he not? You two have amassed quite a collection of discarded sports game videos and upon inspection, I see him playing that particular game a lot. Or at least I think I do.”

Too many shaved heads…why do they have to have shaved heads AND matching uniforms? I may as well be watching my own people…

“maybe…? i don’t actually know. pappy and i usually take the video out as soon as we see it’s another taped sports game,” replied Sans, frowning. It really was disappointing to find a video in good condition, only to realize later that it was just another boring tape of a sport they couldn’t play. Even if the boys knew the rules, the Underground didn’t have many if any big open areas where they could play “basketball” or “football.” Whatever ball they used would just go bouncing off the walls of the caverns or sail into the void/water depending on where they were.

It’s too bad, I bet Undyne would love to play one of these.

Usually when he and his brother found one of these tapes, they’d chuck it into the Boring Corner, a place filled with fitness magazines, letters they had opened that ended up containing junk mail advertising things they didn’t understand, and CDs/records/cassettes Papyrus had SOMEHOW restored and found he didn’t particularly enjoy the content of.

“heh heh heh…”

“What’s so funny big Buther?” asked the baby bones smiling.

“cupcakke.”

The infant’s smile disappeared.

“For once, I’m proud of you two. The sports industry is a money-sucking trash heap of wasted potential. So many of these individuals could have been doctors, teachers, law enforcement, scientists like myself, but they chose a career in playing games that should have been left behind in high school. Disgusting.”

“…I wish to learn how to pay the basketball now.”

“Why, because I specifically asked you not to? Why do you want to intentionally cause trouble?”

“Teach me how to dunkin doughnut.”

Sans giggled, “you wanna learn how to dunk pappy?”

He raised his hand.

“Nyeh?! NO! DADDY, DAAADY! HE DOING IT AGAIN! SNAS USING DA’ FORAAAAAHHHH!!!”

THUNK!

CRISH!

Papyrus sailed into the nearby wall and fell into the wastebin overflowing with papers.

“Excellent control Sans.”

“SCU YOU BABY-ABOOZER! YOU NOT FUNNAAHHHH!!” The enraged baby bones thrashed wildly around in the basket, kicking his legs in an attempt to get out. “IMMA SCRIBBLE IN YO’ BOOKS SNAS! SEE HOW GOOD YOU BE AT WITCHCRAFT THEN!!”

“How DID you manage to do that?”

“IT WAS THE DEVIL! THE DEVIL HELP SNAS!”

“i dunno, i just sorta, did it…i saw pap doing something bad and i accidentally flung him while i was pretending to move him…with my mind,” explained Sans, embarrassed. He knew though, that if he wanted an answer himself, he needed to give as many details as possible.

“Hmm, I see.” Gaster attempted to pull Papyrus out of the wastebin using the same method he’d seen Sans use, but failed. He then tried to use it on the comedian himself, but it also had no result. “Huh, that’s VERY interesting. Moving your brother around as you would an ordinary bone attack, in theory, would mean that almost any skeleton could do the same, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“uhh, we aren’t doing anything wrong dad.”

“You are. Your brother knows he can pull himself out with his wingdings, he’s pretending to be stuck and in turn choosing to be dramatic, attention-seeking, and disruptive. YOU are supposed to be looking after your brother, but instead of helping him out of the wastebin, you’re currently speaking to me. You’re BOTH doing something wrong.” Gaster tried one more time to move both boys. “But it seems even when you’re fully aware of your wrongdoings, this karma-induced attack can’t be done, not by my font at least, or perhaps it has something to do with the soul…PAPYRUS!”

“NYEH!” The baby bones jolted in surprise and tumbled forward, rolling out of the basket in a somersault before coming to a halt at his father’s feet. “Nn…what you want stink Daddy who doesn’t help da’ baby?” asked Papyrus smiling and holding his toes.

“You’re full attention. You are a large part of Sans, so surely you too could perform-”

“IMMA LEARN WITCHCRAFT?!”

“That was NOT your full attention.”

“IMMA LEARN WITCHCRAFT!” The baby bounced up and down excitedly, obviously not hearing his father. “Teach me da’ force big Buther and I will spare yo’ books.”

“*sigh*”

Three hours…that was three hours ago.

“three hours and we didn’t get any answers whatsoever.”

“Hey, dat sounds like me Snas!”

“huh?” Looking down, the young skeleton cringed upon realizing he had spaced out again. “sorry baby bro,” he said, giving his brother an apologetic hug. “i swear i don’t do this on purpose, i really am trying to listen, what’d i miss?”

“You asked about the soul-glow and I say is karma. Karma make your soul really bright and stuff so when you die, God go ‘Ooooh! That’s a pretty soul right there! I wants to add it to my collection’ and then he take you to Heaven and puts you on his shelf.”

“*pfft!* is that right? is that how you get into heaven pappy?”

“Yep! Daz why you gots to be good, so you can be part of the Lord’s house! He gots the coolest house ever big Buther. ERYTHING glow in the dark there! He gots souls floating in lava lamps, he gots souls floating in his waterbed, he even gots souls in his floor Snas! His floor be tiled glass and underneath the glass be a special soul that lights up each widdle square-”

“you’re talking about an LED floor.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“a disco floor.”

“Yep, and If you’re reallll good, like, da’ bestest person ever, you get to be his night light.” The little Horror said this like it was the most amazing thing in the world, then looked around the office in apparent confusion. His daddy slept here all the time, so where was HIS nightlight? Did he use the glow of his computer?

“why are you making him sound like a 70s buff?” asked Sans, interrupting the baby’s train of thought.

“Cause’ he is! I readed it in da’ bib-el.” Crawling towards the bookshelf with the still broken cabinets, Papyrus took out the book, hidden in plain view amongst old tomes Gaster had long since read and forgotten about. The baby would have to remember to hide it again somewhere else later, less his daddy see it while fixing the doors.

“i HIGHLY doubt that’s in there.”

“Nope, it is! Is all true Snas! The Lord all about peace! Hugs not guns, compassion’s in fashion, make love not war, he ALL about the 70s.”

His brother frowned, though he was more worried than annoyed. There were some sensitive people out there and some who were just plain awful when it came to THIS particular topic. He remembered after reading, going to several people to ask for more information and being met with criticism for not reading the whole thing himself, and lectures from monsters about certain passages when all he wanted was a translation. There were even a few who got angry at him for certain questions.

“…a mountain of fire and smoke’ that sounds like a volcano. maybe this really did happen-”

“It did!” said a monster enthusiastically, carrying a bag of groceries from Snowdin. “God stood atop the mountain in the ten commandments story and introduced himself, but it frightened the people down below.”

Suddenly, they jumped upon hearing loud laughter erupt from the child.

“hahahahaha!” The comedian leaned forward, almost spilling the contents of the bag he was helping to carry as the monster gave him an irritated look. “What’s so funny?”

“you probably don’t know what a wrestler is, me and my bro have only seen them on old human videos, but they use pyrotechnics to introduce themselves before a match. it sounds like god was trying to use the volcano to look cool and it backfired, hahaha!”

“GOD WASN’T USING PYROTECHNICS!” shouted the monster, completely offended. “That’s ridiculous! He doesn’t HAVE to try to look cool! HE IS COOL!”

“hey, relax, chill! i’m not saying he isn’t cool, i’m just saying he made a funny mistake. to be honest, it makes him seem more real-”

“GOD DOESN’T MAKE MISTAKES! THAT WASN’T A VOLCANO!”

“then why’d he tell everyone not to come near him? volcanos are deadly, it’d make more sense for him to wanna protect his kids right?”

“Looord, give me the STRENGTH not to smack this skeletal child…!”

Sans had stopped asking questions after that.

It just didn’t seem safe, and it wasn’t safe for Papyrus either.

I can’t let Pappy go around saying the things he’s saying near other people. They aren’t going to CARE that he’s just a baby who doesn’t know any better.

He doesn’t, right?

“you know if some people hear you saying this outside the lab, they’re gonna get upset right, bro?”

“No they won’t!”

“oh no?”

“No. They’s gonna be happy to hear me! People listen and they probly think ‘Wowie! That baby sure is informed about our Lord and savior! If he read the bib-el then he can’t be ALL bad, the bib-el teaches you how to be good! I should be this baby’s friend cause’ they probably a good person.”

“that’s…that’s not what’s going to happen pappy. you’re going to get yelled at.”

“Dat’s why I needs to learn the force big Buther!”

“n-”

“So I can defends myself.”

“…you have enough power papyrus, in fact, you’re OVERpowered, heh heh…”

“…”

“get it? overpowered with pow-”

“I doesn’t get it and I doesn’t WANT to get it. Sides’ Chara say you can never have enough power Snas.”

“isn’t your friend dead though? maybe you shouldn’t be taking life advice from the dead baby bro. just a thought.”

“…”

“…i’m sorry, that was mean-”

Papyrus pushed the Bible towards Sans with his foot. “You need Jesus big Buther.”

The book ended up back at the library.

#Fonttale #Fonttale au #Undertale #Undertale au #Papyrus #baby papyrus #sans #kid sans #gaster #baby bones #undertale fanfiction #religion #funny

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