#imagine being me. studying abroad over the summer. having a really nice day in a foreign city with the guys on your trip | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justsome-di · 4 years

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This was posted on the second tier of my patreon last week! At the moment, I post a bit of Good Omens fics, but I also post original stories. By becoming a patron, you can access all of my writing content. Some works are posted here and on my AO3 a week after they’re up on Patreon, but there are still a good chunk that are exclusive to patrons!

It was a dreary day that made a person hide away in her room with her best friend, pressing a puff to her cheeks lackadaisically as she sat at her vanity.

I was that person. It was my vanity, my best friend, and it was my puff I was pressing to my own cheeks in the aforementioned lackadaisical fashion.

It was a day that was dreary not because of the weather—I find no weather dreary because the weather is only doing its best and can’t always be expected to be sunny and warm. Sometimes the weather needs breaks—like people. We can’t always wear smiles. Sometimes we have to sit in our rooms and mope for a bit as I was doing. A little rain never hurt anyone. Except for maybe that Noah fellow in the Bible. Or, I suppose, all of the people who weren’t Noah. But I’m neither Noah nor the people who weren’t Noah at that specific point in time, and the rain had never wronged me. What had wronged me was my parent’s insistence that I marry.

I’d been very fed up with hearing my father say You’re not going to stay young forever. Pretty women need a good man, and women like you especially need a good man. But I’d always put on a brave face for my parents and nodded along as they listed men that they thought could work for me. I had met a few. I didn’t like any of them. They were too serious for my tastes, and they didn’t understand me. I needed someone who could listen to my gossip and read the same fashion magazines that I studied night and day. But many men don’t read fashion magazines, and that’s all fine and dandy in the end. They would just have to be able to listen to me talk about my studies and carry my bags as I shopped for what the magazines had told me to buy. A good woman, in my opinion, is always in need of a good man who will carry her bags. It’s symbolic or what have you. A smarter person would be able to explain it, but I still carry my firm belief that a man should be supportive in his wife’s shopping.

“I really don’t want to meet this gentleman today,” I said. I didn’t want to meet him any day. “I’m not feeling adventurous enough. I wish I could just be his pen pal for a little bit before we rush into dinner and marriage.”

“No matter what, Mr. Kingsley can’t be the worst,” Stella said, though she said it with a grimace. “Just remember that egg Agatha was briefly engaged to in May. He was a nightmare. I don’t think a man worse than that could exist. Remember how he told her uncle how often he had been sent to bed without supper while away at school? What was it that he would do? Put thumbtacks on the teachers’ chairs and pour milk into inkwells so the rooms would smell sour without anyone being able to tell where it was coming from? He was awful. She deserved so much better, the poor thing. I’ve told her over and over, though, that she needs to take a break from relationships and fill her time with education or something of the sort. Just to build her independence. Women have a lot to learn.”

Stella sat on my armchair. Occasionally, she caught a glance of herself in my mirror and maybe pressed a hand to a flyaway hair sticking up from her bob cut or ran the tip of her finger along her lipstick. She wasn’t always so vain (as I had sometimes been called every time I looked at myself passing by a mirror or particularly reflective window). She usually had her nose shoved in books or had her hands in paint. But she had taken a special interest in her makeup and hair ever since returning to America a few months ago. I had taught her everything I had learned over the years. I passed down old pencils and paints and helped trim up her hair. She was still the woman I had grown up with. Just prettier. Not that she wasn’t pretty before. She was just able to draw attention to the features I had begged her to draw attention to forever—her dainty nose and lips, her almond-shaped eyes. I was glad she had gotten over her silly idea that makeup didn’t do anything to make a woman feel better.

Stella and I were as similar as two peas in different pods.

She was as smart and cultured as anyone could ever get. Over the summer, she had gone to Paris to study art. In her letters, she told me how she spent her mornings in museums, her afternoons in cafés chatting with people of similar intelligence, and her evenings painting under the instruction of a young, French bohemian man. It sounded fairly boring to me, but she wrote such beautiful letters and occasionally included little sketches on cardstock. She told me about the people she met—all fancy writers that she insisted I read as soon as possible. I bought all of the books she told me about, but they only served to fill my bookshelf that had remained empty since my childhood. They looked beautiful, and I encouraged Stella to recommend me more while she was abroad.

Meanwhile, I had accompanied my father to work every day over the summer, going to his office and watching him write down numbers and tell people Yes, I think we can make that work or No, there’s no room in our budget. We cut that department by 40% last quarter, don’t you remember? I ought to fire you for nearly doing so stupid. The executives and I will discuss it in our board meeting with the president and CEO or something businessy of that sort. To be honest, I never really listened all that closely. I mostly stared at his pencil sharpener, dreaming about eating the lunch my mother and I would have made that morning that always sat next to my father’s desk. I would wonder if the bread was getting too hard or if I would enjoy the fruit after it had set outside the icebox for so long. My father could have been saying anything. I didn’t even know his position. He had told me that I should watch him at the family business so that one day I would be prepared to watch my future husband take over. He said that whenever I asked my husband for money—as I did with my father and as my mother did with him, too—I should know where that money comes from. I would write Stella pages and pages of rambling letters before dinner every day. At night, I would have to find any party to go to just shake off the grimy feeling the business had left on me.

My mother would occasionally listen to my retellings of the drama of the workplace, and she nodded with the utmost sympathy and petted my hair. She would say something in her high, mousey voice that would do little to comfort me. Her talk was always about how we had to do what’s best for our men. Even if that meant watching them do boring work. Stella was really the one who would do well to make me feel better in her letters. She was grounded, and she always knew what to say. She would recommend me even more books to empower my female spirit. They weren’t as attractive as the prettier ones she talked about. The titles themselves put me to sleep and the authors were usually dead, but I took her word that they were very good. I just couldn’t have old books in my possession.

Before I go any further with this story, I don’t want you thinking that Stella is any sort of drag. I’ll have you know that she knows a good time when she sees one. While in Paris—the city of art and love and such romantic stuff—she took good advantage of the alcohol. The Good Samaritans such as myself hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in America since the prohibition. Stella missed it sorely and drank the finest wine she could get her hands on while abroad. I had imagined that her Bohemian lover had whisked her away to his little apartment every night after a bottle and shown her what men from the city had to offer. She didn’t really say it to me, but I understood the twinkle in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks when she talked about him. She was going to go back to Paris and take me with her to meet her artist. I was thrilled to meet him and see what kind of influence he had on my Stella.

Stella had her whole life planned ahead of her. She would marry an intelligent artist, they would have little artist children, and she could spend all her time reading the novels she loved so much and painting because her children would be little, wonderfully well-behaved creatures that would obey every word their fair parents would tell them. When she got tired of painting, she would turn to writing essays about—what does she call it? Feminism? She could write essay upon essay about that. She would have a lovely cook in her home and a delightful maid that never snatched an earring or couple of coins when no one was around. I once had a maid who took one of my favorite bracelets, and I had the hardest time asking for it back. I eventually told my father, and she was fired the next day.

I hadn’t the foggiest clue what my future would be like.

“What do you think he’s like?” I asked.

“Mr. Kingsley?”

“Of course.”

“I think he’ll be nice,” Stella said.

She shrugged. A sign of indifference. She looked away as well, and I wondered if she was hiding something that was ruffling her feathers.

“Nice?” I asked

“Nice enough. I can imagine the man your parents would find for you. He’s probably the same type of egg as your father.”

She was doing her best to avoid my eyes, and she frowned so heavily. I pushed on with the conversation anyways.

“That’s what I’m worried about. Maybe I don’t want to marry a paternal-imitating egg. Maybe I’d like to be with a poet.”

“A poet?”

“Or someone like that. Someone not involved in business. Maybe a film actor would suit me better?”

Stella almost laughed. “How are you going to meet a film actor? Your family isn’t that important.”

“I could become an actress.”

“You?”

“I think I could make a career in the movies. Be a sweetheart. You know, like Mary Pickford.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s not as though they talk much. I wouldn’t have any lines to learn.”

Stella hummed. She was amused by my plan, I could tell, but she didn’t realize that I was being absolutely serious. I had dabbled in theatre in school—as she very well knew—and had gotten the role of one of the maids in Hamlet. And theatre, I’ve heard, is much more challenging than films. If I was an astounding maid, then I would be phenomenal in films. As I had just said to Stella, film actors have no lines. No one would ever know what my voice sounded like.

“Think of how little we know about how good these actors are at delivering lines. I have it on good authority that that Chaplin fellow has an English accent,” I said. “Can you believe that? An English accent!”

“Most people from England, I believe, have English accents. And I’m not sure if an accent dictates how well someone is at acting.”

Stella wasn’t keeping up. Of course, the accent didn’t mean anything to his acting. It was the fact that we didn’t know he had an accent. If we couldn’t even place something so big as his country of origin then how would we know if he was any good at monologues? It was as if she didn’t want to have this conversation.

“As I was saying,” I said, putting my nose in the air. “I think I would make a fine film actress. All I would have to do is make those poses and move my mouth a bit. Mary Pickford is so glamorous, wouldn’t you say? And Douglas Fairbanks.”

“Of course.”

“I could be glamorous. I could go to those parties and premieres. I’m just as pretty as the rest of them.”

“You really want to be known as just pretty? Darling, you wouldn’t have a voice. You’d just be a face. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“It’s more than just being a pretty face on screen. I’d have to be in the public. I’d have to play tennis!”

“Tennis?”

“Yes! Haven’t you seen those pictures of Charles Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks playing tennis? All movie stars must do it.”

“I’m not sure where your mind goes sometimes.”

“Stella keep up! This is important. This is my future.”

I felt bad for the dear. She had such a one-track mind. It made conversations with her so hard at times.

“Do you think Mr. Kingsley plays tennis?” I asked. “It would be delightful if he did.”

Stella didn’t answer. Her face had taken on a somber look—the same look my mother had when she had told me that my pet fish had to go to the country to soothe his nerves. I never saw him again. My mother told me that he had found a better life, and he would be healthier with his new family. I always suspected that he had really died.

I worried about Stella’s face. She pressed her lips together in a thin line and drew her eyebrows together. She looked nervous to speak. The conversation wasn’t about tennis or movies anymore.

“Can I be frank?” Stella asked.

“You can be anything you want to be.”

I was ashamed that my voice wasn’t stronger, but, you see, I’m not a fan of serious conversations. My parents always avoided them, and I never learned how to cope when presented with one.

“It doesn’t matter if he plays tennis or not,” Stella began. “I don’t think you want to meet any man for dinner that your father chooses for you. It doesn’t matter if Mr. Kingsley is exactly like you, your relationship isn’t going to work because it’s forced. And furthermore, I don’t think it’s right for your father to do this. You should be able to find a man on your own. I have no doubt that your father has your best interest in heart, but for God’s sake, it’s 1927. We’re free.”

I smiled as well as I could. For Stella’s sake. I think she relied on my happy demeanor a lot.

“This is how things are,” I said, trying to sound casual. “My parents are depending on this.”

“I’m being serious,” she snapped. “It’s not right for you to marry whoever they want while other girls are going out, voting, getting jobs, and driving! You still haven’t learned to drive even though you promised me you would!”

“That’s different!” My voice was rising, and I suppose it sounded a bit like my mother’s. “Driving is scary! I’m not sure how you do it. I can’t sit behind a hunk of metal and not hit anyone—”

“Because your parents have told you that you shouldn’t drive. I told you I would teach you.”

“I don’t have to drive to embrace these womanly rights you’re always on about.”

“Maybe not, but it’s more than driving. You freeze in any situation. Driving would teach you how to take control. To take yourself to where you need—want—to go with no one else able to stop you. To feel yourself leave behind your home for just a little bit.” Stella looked at her lap for a moment and took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was calm again. “You at least need to stand up to your parents. You need to tell them that you’re going to find someone for yourself.”

I didn’t want to fight. I hated fights. I believed I was allergic to them and had been meaning to talk to a doctor about it.

I crossed the room to sit on the ottoman in front of her chair. My mother had picked out all the furniture in the room. I sat forward a little bit. I could feel my dress riding up my thigh as it caught on the ottoman. The first time I had come out of my room in a short dress, my parents had thrown a fit. They said that showing knees didn’t get a woman respect. My mother even called me a harlot, and I was offended when I looked it up in the dictionary later that evening. I was also surprised (and a little impressed) that my mother knew such a big word. Stella would have been proud of me if she had seen me lifting my chin and telling them It’s fashionable, and I’m not going to caught dead in something that looks like it’s from the War. She would have clapped and told me that the suffragettes had a similar attitude over lunch. Instead, she embraced me when she saw me that same day and said We’re liberated—knees and all. While she wasn’t the most up-to-date on fashion, her bare knees were the first I saw. I never told her what my parents thought about it.

“It’s not that easy,” I said to Stella. I couldn’t be angry. It wasn’t an emotion I was very keen on. “I have a responsibility. You can meet French artists and paint sunsets. You have a brother who’s taking care of the family. I’m all my parents have, and I have to do this for them.”

“You don’t owe anyone anything.”

“I do. I owe my parents a son-in-law and an heir, and I owe Mr. Kingsley dinner in an hour.”

My chest felt tight. I grabbed my necklace that hung so low that it almost rested in my lap. I would have to change into jewelry more conservative before I left. But before then, I would roll the pearls closest to my chest between my fingers. My mother would have told me that ladies didn’t fidget like she always did when I played with jewelry. Ladies are statues, she would tell me. I always asked her about our relationship with pigeons when I saw them gather on grey stone in the city, and she would only answer Just do your best to be polite to them.

“Think about who are you,” Stella said. “Because I don’t think you know who that is.”

“I know who I am.”

“Yeah? Then who are you?”

It wasn’t a fair question. No one would know how to answer that. I knew who I was as well as anyone else. Stella wouldn’t go up to a random person on the streets and ask them as sternly as she asked me without getting an odd look or a business card.

“You used to tell me that doing whatever your parents wanted infuriated you. What happened to that girl?”

She grew up.

I wasn’t a little girl anymore, kicking rocks because my parents made me go to a stuffy dinner while Stella was never forced to meet her parents’ drab friends. I was an adult, and I was realizing that a lot more compromises had to be made. The more I learned about the world, the more I realized how much I was missing out on.

“If you want to be Mrs. Kingsley or Mrs. Whoever-Your-Parents-Find, then I won’t hold you back. You know I’d support you in whatever you choose to do. But I’m scared for you. Don’t convince yourself that you want this. I know you have a brain in there somewhere.” She smiled a little. “You can use it to think for yourself.”

“I don’t use it for much else, I suppose.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m not sure about this. I don’t want to disappoint my parents. Or Mr. Kingsley. He’s done nothing wrong.”

“Would you rather disappoint yourself? Make a life with a man you hardly know and have his children and spend your days with a stranger? You can go to dinner with him tonight, or I can take you out. It’ll be just the two of us. We haven’t had dinner together in a while, have we? I still haven’t told you about my last letter from Victor.”

Victor was her Bohemian artist. She was crazy for him, and they had found each other on their own.

“Let me think about this. It’s making my head ache.”

I looked to my vanity only to avoid Stella’s eyes. I had my makeup sitting out, ready to touch up what was already on my face. My hairbrush was next to the powders and lipsticks for when I had to pull out tangles before I left. I even had my outfit hanging on my wardrobe door. It was the only outfit my mother had approved of. It was the longest skirt I owned, and the blouse with the highest neck. It was such a bland color. Light blue. Close to grey like an old woman’s hair. I was fond of black dresses and bright blouses. I should have thrown it out a year ago. My mother was making me wear my lowest heels, as well, and I had wanted to vomit over how old I looked. I looked as old as the women that gave me dirty looks when I went into town. I looked as old as my mother. I could have been going to church in that outfit, for Christ’s sake! No respectable girl of my age should have been forced into that.

I took great care to read about the newest fashions and trends from everywhere—England, France, Japan, etc. I had cut off my hair at 17 when I realized (way too late I confess) that long hair in up-dos had been out of fashion for quite some time. I transformed overnight. I looked like Edna Purviance. I had thought about getting on a train to Hollywood to show a movie director or modeling agency that I had the look. I had the short waves even if they were a bit crooked. My jaw and neck were exposed, and I felt scandalous and exposed. My mother almost fainted.

I discovered makeup the same year. I learned how to hold my hand steady to apply eyelashes and how to draw a cupid’s bow on my lips that Clara Bow herself would be jealous of. I propped up magazines next to my mirror and yanked at my eyebrows with tweezers until they looked similar to what I was seeing. I found a shade of blush that didn’t make me look like I had an odd infection but instead had spent a decent amount of time laughing and being happy. I painted thin lines around my eyes and dabbed a modest amount of eyeshadow on my lids. Stella and I had helped each other find powders that would make us look paler but not like corpses. I practiced my pout in the mirror and experimented with holding my head at different angles.

Later, after I was away from the judgment of school teachers, I had begged my father for money for a new wardrobe. I gave a whole speech about he should want a trendy daughter. I’ve already told you their reaction to seeing me in my first short dress.

Stella looked at her wristwatch in resignation.

“I should be leaving.”

She stood. I grabbed her hand.

“Give me a little time,” I told her. “I’d like to write Mr. Kingsley a letter for when he comes. I can’t turn a man down to his face. I also need to touch up my face and hair. I can’t be seen like this in public. Let’s go to that little café around the corner, and then, I think, there’s a movie playing this evening. We can make it if we hurry.”

I tried not to think about how furious my parents would be, and I tried not paying attention to the tightening of my stomach that killed my appetite and interest in films. I put my faith in Stella and prayed that Victor had a brother.

#Original Work #original writing

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mysticthot · 6 years

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RFA x Jumins Sister!MC

idk why i have such a thirst for jumin as a big brother but here we are

also this is hella long my b

Yoosung Kim

knows who you are thru magazines and what not, but he’s never met you in person

that is until the first rfa party that Rika holds

he sees you from across the room, standing next to Jumin looking like a model and he’s shook

wow shes even prettier in person, i didnt know she was gonna be here tonight i should go talk to her, wait no she’ll think i’m a loser- OH GOD SHES LOOKING SHE PROBABLY THINKS IM A CREEP DOES MY HAIR LOOK GOOD oh shes smiling at me

thoughts running wild he doesn't know what to do so he straight up turns around and walks away

it isn't until later in the night that he actually gets to talk to you

“Hi, I’m MC. Your Yoosung right? Part of the RFA?”

he’s shook when u said hi first

you have a good conversations and he’s surprised at how easy you are to talk to and how different you are from your brother

at the end of the night you catch him before he leaves and give him your number

definitely spends the rest of the night trying to think of something cool to txt you

definitely asks Zen for help

manages to start talking to you, and suddenly your messaging each other constantly

its Yoosung were talking about, his crush on you is immediately all he can think about

but he goes out of his way to not say anything in the chatrooms cause Jumin hasn't mentioned anything so he’s not sure if Jumin knows

lowkey terrified of Jumin finding out and sending a hitman after him

he’s too shy to ask you on a date

literally everything about you screams out of his league

so imagine his surprise when you ask him to a movie

boi straight up falls out of his chair in the middle of class

ya’ll go see a movie and his soul nearly leaves his body when you lean in and give his a short peck on his lips afterwards

“I really like you Yoosung, I’ve never had a guy treat me so well.”

“I-I like you too MC.”

his soul does leave his body when Jumin enters the chatroom the next day saying nothing but his full name in all caps

poor boi is immediately apologizing and ranting about how much he likes you and how he promises to be good to you

After everything Jumin simply responds with, “I’ll hold you to that.”

Now with Jumins approval, he officially asks you to be his girlfriend which you happily say yes to

This boi loves you so much, and he is in awe everyday that you chose him

Likes to show you off, especially to his friends

Loves when you pick him up from school lookin all cute and pulling him into a tight hug

gets very jealous and protective knowing all these rich dudes are competing for your attention, but he as Jumins support and your love, so he’s happy

Zen

Vaguely aware that you exist

Has heard Jumin or Jaehee mention you a few times, but he doesn't think much of it, and he actively goes out of his way to not watch or read anything with the name ‘Han’ in it

He’s in the lobby of the C&R building waiting for Jaehee so they could go get coffee, when he sees a cute girl struggling by the closed elevator doors with arms full of papers and folders

ever the gentleman, he goes over and offers to hold some of it for you

“Excuse me miss, would you like some help with that?”

You look up at him and his breath is all but knocked out of him when he gets a full glance at your beauty

“Oh, wow thank you.”

You smile breathlessly up at him, both of you seem to be in the same trance

He snaps out of it to grab the papers from your arms, and introduces himself

Your both looking at each other with that same wide eyed look when the elevator doors open

There stands Jaehee in the middle of the love fest.

“Uh...Zen, I see you’ve met MC. Jumins sister.”

SHHOOOK

He’s so dramatic like he full on backs up hand over the heart gasping

You almost laugh at the look on his face

“Oh, so your that Zen? I’ve heard all about you.

Jaehee takes your papers from Zen and gets into the elevator with you mumbling about how she’ll be right back.

Zen almost dies when you wink and blow him a kiss as the doors close

Jaehee is interrogated by Zen through out their whole lunch

You were so cute and nice looking?? How were you related to the trust fund kid???

Gasps when he realizes that makes you a trust fund kid as well

Yet, he cant stop thinking about you and the moment you shared in the lobby

He’s such a romantic, he becomes convinced this is a Romeo and Juliet love at first sight thing

Hung around in the lobby for a bit one day hoping to meet you again, but he starting looking suspicious so he had to leave

Ends up pestering Jaehee for hours until she gives in and gives him your phone number

Very quick to send you a selfie asking if you remember him

You reply even faster

“Of course I remember you, how could I forget such a beautiful face? Oh and also Jaehee has kept me updated on how much u ask about me ;)”

He’s never been out charmed by someone before, but you have him so flustered

Quick to ask you on a date

Basically does turn into Romeo and Juliet ft. Jeahee as the Nurse (omg just realized how thats a pretty good fic idea i might right that lol)

She helps cover your tracks while your sneaking around with Zen

But Jumin is getting ever more suspicious and after many useless reports from him sending Jaehee to follow you, he sends one of his guards instead

This is all very inconvenient for him, he doesn’t like the thought of you not being able to tell him something, you’ve told each other everything always

not to mention zen has been getting on his nerves lately being strange and sappy in the chat rooms

He could never imagine the shock that filled his entire being when his guard told him he had seen you going into Zens house

Boi’s over there in an instant banging on the door

A shirtless zen opens the door, his hair messed up and a hickey growing redder by the second on his neck

Jumins pushing him up against a wall before he can even react

The slam startles you out of the bed in nothing but a sheet, only to freeze when you see the scene before you

guess you’ll die ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It takes a long time to get them off each others necks

“Guys, why dont we all calm down and talk about this rationally?’

“MC, the only thing keeping me from knocking this trust fund kid out is the fact that he is your brother.”

“Zen not helping!”

Jumin all but drags you back to the car and you’re lectured the whole ride home

Then lectured some more in the pent house

Then some more before you announced you were going to bed

He was angrily pouring himself some wine when he heard your phone go off

It was Zen

He justifies his actions by saying you had betrayed his trust, and opens the message

“I’m sorry MC, I hope you’re ok. I know he wont approve, but I hope you can find away to stay with me. I will never find someone like you and even if he doesn’t understand or believe it, I love you. Call me when you can.”

Now he feels kinda bad

Then he remembers Zen’s hickey and he’s mad again

It takes him a while but he eventually allows for you and Zen to see each other freely

Feels betrayed by Jaehee

Jaehee (Speaking of betrayal lol)

She knows of you, but has never met you, as you are studying abroad

When Jumin first mentions the fact that he is going to pick you up from the airport, shes initially worried that she will have to deal with a second Jumin

And in her experience, the high class women aren’t the easiest to get along with

So imagine her surprise the next day when she is going to the penthouse to introduce herself and finds...what looks like a completely normal girl lounging in her pajamas

You smile kindly at her as Jumin, dressed in his normal suit, comes to stand beside you and she cant believe the differences

Shes pretty sure you’re showing more emotion on you face in this exact moment than Jumin has in his entire life rip lol

She introduces herself, and it shocked when you immediately pull her into a hug

“Its so nice to meet you, I’m MC.”

The way you say your name and the way your holding her hands in yours while you smile at her she just-

gay panic

Your spending the summer with Jumin, so she sees you around a lot and every time you are just as sweet to her

As time passes she begins to feel strange when she sees you

Heart racing, cheeks blushing, you know the drill

But its been so long since Jaehee has had a crush on someone, and she wasn't even sure if this was a crush

poor babe is confused af

Cause your so nice to her

And you make Jumin be nice to her

And you get her off work to hang out

But she doesn’t know if your being friendly...

One day she is going over last minute talking points with Jumin as he prepares for a gala event when you come walking out

Your dress makes you look like an angel, your hair is flowing and framing your beautiful face and- oh, there was that smile again

She nearly chocked when she saw you

gay panic intensifies

you make her feel the way zens videos do

Suddenly she’s not so confused anymore

She walked you and Jumin down to the car waiting outside and you turn to her before following your brother in

“You’re not coming with us are you?” you asked with a slight frown.

“No, it would be inappropriate for an assistant to attend such an event.” she sighed, smoothing out her work skirt, suddenly realizing how different you two really were.

You paused, looking like you might say something, but stopped yourself, telling her to have a good night before getting into the car

She watched you drive away, and wasn’t expecting to hear from you any more that night

Then her phones ringing and its you and she’s answering in a flash

You voice is shaky, asking her if she could pick you up if it wouldn't be too much trouble cause you didn't want to inconvenience her

She was in the car before you had finished the call

When she pulled around the back of the event, where you had asked to meet, she saw you standing in the dark, a look so sad it made her heart hurt

You climbed into the passenger seat, but the ride back to the penthouse was silent

It wasn't until she pulled up to the curb that you invited her upstairs

As soon as you passed the door way to the house, it was like your fake composure, one that she knew you had been raised to perfect, melted away

You sighed before dropping face first onto a couch cushion and screaming into it

Jaehee didn't know exactly what to do, so she gave your back a somewhat comforting pat until you sat up ready to tell her what was wrong

Turns out you had met a man at the gala

(her heart dropped when you said that)

But the man was an absolute dick

(So your sayin she has a chance?)

The man had been grabbing you and touching you all night, asking for dances and pressuring you to drink

The final straw was while he had dragged you into a dance, his hand lowed down before he full on groped your ass in front of everyone

You had slapped him

The gotten promptly lectured from your father

“He was acting like I was in the wrong for standing up for myself. Saying I was making a fool of the family reacting in such a way! Why aren’t the men held in such a standard that so I don’t have to act like that in the first place?!”

“I’m so sorry MC, that is truly disgusting that you had to go through that.” She pulled you into a hug, and side by side you sat on the couch, enjoying each others comfort

“Next time...I think I’d like to take you as my date...” You mumbled into her shoulder.

She froze

Didn’t know was to say

Were you friends? Were you something more???

Her questions were answered as you pulled back from the hug and placed a timid kiss on her lips

It was short, almost testing the waters for both of you

But when your eyes met, the kiss that followed was anything but timid or short

Jumin was not pleased with that he saw when he got home

His assistant and sister making out in his living room

what was his life coming to??

Not nearly as mad as you thought he would be however

He had heard what your father had said to you and rushed home to make sure you were ok

Claims he knew this whole time you weren't into guys, or at least not straight, but you think hes just trying to redeem himself from the fact that his assistant seduced his sister right under his nose

Jaehee and you go as a couple to the next gala and rock that shit

707/ Saeyoung

Obvi, this boi knows everything

As soon as he was introduced to Jumin, he did a background check, and thats how he was led to you

From then on, he is not subtle or quiet with his ‘celebrity’ crush

Basically acts towards you the way he does towards Elizabeth the 3rd

Uses you as a way to tease Jumin and get him all riled up

“omg Jumin, I saw MC’s photo in a magazine today and I swear I fell in love all over again.

“If you come near her, I will get a restraining order.”

Jumin is in no way amused

The rest of the RFA is tho

Like Yoosung, you meet Seven at the first party.

He is quick to spot you, and Jumin is even quicker to separate you from him

You, however, have no idea why your brother is being even more over protective than usual, and take the first opportunity to sneak off to the bar

Seven sees you alone for the first time and quickly turns to Yoosung, asking him how he looks before running off to you

You’re shook when in the middle of taking a drink a random redhead all bed falls into the chair next to you

“HIMYNAMESSEVENITSAPLEASURETOMEETYOU!”

“...What?”

He takes a comically large breath, lets it out, then holds his hand out for you to shake

You laugh when he bows and kissed your knuckles before introducing himself slower this time

“Sorry, I just felt like I needed to rush, your brothers gonna kill me when he sees me talking to you.”

You laugh and roll your eyes and he thinks you have the best sounding laugh he has ever heard

Good thing his only talent is getting people to laugh at him

You proceed to spend the next five minutes laughing so hard your stomach hurts and your eyes water before a large group of not only your brother, but several body guards come to interrupt

“Oh no, my sweet MC, it seems our time has been cut short, I’ll never forget the moments we spent together, no matter how brief!” he calls to you while being escorted to the other side of the room by two large men

Jumin lectures you on the dangers of talking to strange men and you remind him that the whole point of this party was to talk to people you don’t know

He forbids you from talking to Seven

“MC, he’s a sadist!”

“That just makes me want him more...”

Later that night you get a strange text, or dare I say, a mysterious message, saying your phone was being hacked

Your shook and don’t know what to do watching as the so called hacker typed before the second message popped up

Is your name wifi? Cause I really felt a connection~

Ok now your more shook

Then a third message pops up and its the cute guy from the party, and you laugh before responding

You spend the rest of the night picking up where you left off at the party

And Seven it once again, not quiet about his crush

Jumin wakes up the next morning to chatroom after chatroom all about you

Half of them are him talking mindlessly about your wedding, the other half is the rest of the members telling him to shut up

Jumin is t r i g g e r e d

His first instinct is to take your phone, since you obviously cant make good choices for yourself

But then he remembers you are an adult, and he cant take away your phone

So he goes to plan B which is threaten Seven with a restraining order, once again

Halfway through typing out a long, angry message, you skip out into the kitchen, and suddenly his anger it focused on you

“MC WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT TALKING TO SEVEN HES NOT GOOD FOR YOU YOU NEED TO BLOCK HIM AND GET A RESTRAINING ORDER HES CRAZY WHAT ARE YOU THINKING”

“He’s so cute and sweet tho.” you pout

“Awe, thanks MC.”

Both of you look up to find Seven standing in the doorway with a bouquet of flowers

Seven is forcefully removed from the building

Jumin gives you the whole, “he’s a hacker he’s dangerous” speech, but you are stubborn

You tell him you are an adult who can make her own choices

He does the things parents do where they think they can guilt you into making the right choice

Thinks he’s won when he doesn't hear anything about you from Seven for a while

Imagine his shock when he logs into the chatroom to see a picture from the cctv of you and Seven kissing, clearly in the middle of a date along with a picture of a plastic cat ring on your ring finger

“She said yes!”

“I am going to physically hurt you.”

On the more serious side, Seven would be a little harder because of his job, so everything you guys did would have to be in secret

He would get in his moods where he thought you deserved a boyfriend who could treat you better and be seen in public with you

Don’t even get him started on how dangerous he was

But you could use your connections to help him get his life on track, and eventually get him a job at C&R

Jumin isn't happy with it, but when he accepts that Seven actually cares for you and this isn’t just some joke, he will come to terms with it

V/ JIhyun

V has known you since you were born, as him and Jumin were already friends then

Infact, he has a picture somewhere of him as a child holding you the day you got home from the hospital

Growing up with V and Jumin, was almost like having two brother

Both very protective over you

Being kids, you went through the normal phases

“Boys have cooties dont touch me!”

‘C-cooties...but MC...”

There were times when you would tease each other simply because that’s what kids do when they have crushes

His little cheeks would get all red when you and him would play games together

He liked to be the knight that saved you from the evil dragon (Jumin) and one time you very lightly pecked a kiss onto his cheek before running off and his face was red for the rest of the day

In fact you were each others first kiss

It was during a sleep over he was having with Jumin

Jumin had fallen asleep during a movie leaving you and V alone, sitting together in a blanket fort

You were playing truth or dare, but they were mostly truths to keep the game quiet and not wake anyone

“Truth or dare MC.”

“Truth.”

“...Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Your whole face went red, as did his, he had barely even worked up the courage to ask the question

“...No.” You whispered, “Have you?

“No.”

The game stopped for a moment, V was looking at while you did you best to look anywhere but at him

“Truth or dare MC?”

“...Truth.”

“Can I kiss you?”

The kiss was short and stiff and a little awkward, but it was something you both would remember for ever

And a secret you would keep from Jumin until way into your adult years

Jumin was annoyed by the whole thing

He loved his sister and all, but he didn't exactly like his best friend and sister always flirting

As you got older, the childhood crushes died down into fond memories and the occasional flirt or butterfly in the stomach

You dated a few people, he dated a few people

But there was always those times when it was just you and him alone where it seemed like something was so close to happening

But he graduated with Jumin before you did, and left to start his own life

That when he met Rika

You were happy for him truly, you were dating someone at the time as well and you wanted to see you friend be happy, he deserved it

But tragedy struck, and he was never really the same after that

You remembered her funeral, and the way he cried into your shoulder that night

You had to go through the pain of watching your dear friend loose himself, along with his eyesight

Supporting him in his time of need became your number one priority, but somewhere along the way, old feelings began to resurface

You pushed them down, deep down so you wouldn't make a fool of yourself or ruin your friendship

It took years until V would begin to see again what was right in front of him, he had been blinded by Rika for so long that he couldn’t see you

(im sorry those puns were just too good not to put in lol get it cause hes blind)

He felt guilty for his feelings, like he was betraying Rika, yet he couldn't stop himself from feeling like he did when he was a kid

Jumin, once again, was stuck between his best friend and his sister being love sick idiots, too stupid and scared to see the other one felt the same way

He’s so over it like just get married already

He decides to invite V over, fully determined to give him a talk and tell him to ask you out

Then he will invite you over so you’ll be in the same place as V

Then, Jumin will politely excuse himself for a ‘phone call’ and give them some time alone

He begins his plan in the morning, making sure you would both be coming over for dinner, then he leaves for work

Unfortunately, a meeting he had at the end of the day ended up running super late, leaving you and V alone

Plan was ruined he’s triggered

But, what he didn’t know, was that things were going along just fine between the two

You guys were sipping some wine and catching up and laughing and smiling like old times

V wanted to take a picture to capture the moment

You looked truly beautiful, framed by the night sky, cheeks flushed from the laughing and the alcohol, a smile on your face and a look in your eyes he hadn't seen, or at least hadn't recognized, since you were kids

He acted before he had the chance to stop himself, leaning forward and pressing a kiss that held in it the passion of years and years of love

You melted into it, wrapping your arms around him and he felt like he couldn’t have brought you close enough

He wanted all of you, everything he had missed out on in his lifetime of not making you his

Pulling apart, leaving you both breathless, forehead to forehead, he smiled down at you

“I’m sorry, I should have asked truth or dare first.”

jumins triggered lol

sorry if theres any mistakes im hella tired so i may have missed some in the proof read

hope u liked it

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welldamnsatoru · 5 years

Text

Updated Masterlist

Last Updated: 20/6/19

Series

Camp of the God’s series

Shawn is son of Hephaestus and Y/n is daughter of Athena and multiple times Shawn saves y/n’s ass until eventually they form feelings for each other.

Soulmate Series

Shawn and Y/n are soulmates but Shawn is fully against having his future dictated and is against having Y/n as his soulmate despite the pull he feels to her.

Falling series

Shawn is a fallen angel and after crash landing on earth rocks up at nurse Y/n’s office bruised and battered where she helps him.

Imagines

Prince Eric au

Shawn nearly drowns but luckily he has mermaid Y/n around to save his life, repeatedly.

Do you even know what time it is right now?

Y/n can’t sleep so Shawn sings her sleep, very short and fluffy.

I’m not going to apologise for this. Not anymore

Y/n and Shawn are best friends, Shawn wants to be more but Y/n doesn’t want to risk their friendship despite feeling the same way until Shawn has had enough and shows her how he feels.

I dedicate this song to you

Y/n attends one of Shawn’s concerts where he dedicates a song to her.

Why do I always call you when I’m wasted?

Y/n and Shawn break up when she gets offered to study abroad for a year and a month after they break up Shawn rings her when he’s wasted.

#shawnsgettingsometonight

Shawn gets caught buying condoms at the chemist by fans and a certain hashtag begins trending.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am no good for you

Shawn turns up at y/n’s house at 2am bruised after defying his gang leader’s commands of using Y/n for a mission and Shawn begins to doubt if he is good enough for her.

How long have you been standing there?

Y/n gets caught singing one of Shawn’s songs by Shawn himself.

His ego is so visible; I can almost watch it grow Part 2

A random guy starts to chat Y/n up at her best friends engagement party and Shawn gets jealous.

Just once Part 2 Part 3

Just once Y/n wants Shawn to be there for her, especially when he misses her graduation.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me

Furniture shopping with Shawn and Y/n.

You’re so cute when you pout like that

Shawn tries to take a photo of Y/n but she keeps trying to doge it.

When you love someone, you don’t just stop

Y/n is sent a picture online of Shawn kissing another girl and she gets upset about it, resulting in a fight when Shawn gets home.

My eyes are up here

Y/n is a YouTuber and since her camera stand is broken she gets Shawn to help her film a video.

I thought I lost you

Y/n is in a car accident and Shawn leaves one of his concerts to be with her.

I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention

Y/n’s studying and Shawn wants attention

Just pretend to be my date

Y/n has a family dinner where her family always bug her about never bringing a date so she asks Shawn to accompany her.

What else do you love about me?

Y/n and Shawn list everything they love about each other.

I was actually hoping that you would ask me

Y/n asks Shawn to their school dance

You can kiss me whenever you want

You’ve been dating Shawn for a while and you haven’t kissed and you really want to but you’re really nervous about it

And you woke me up for this?

Y/n has a really weird dream and she just has to tell Shawn about it

I’m so in love with you

Shawn accidentally tells Y/N he loves her

Just tell me you love me

Y/n and Shawn are drifting apart so Shawn decides to break it off, much to Y/n’s efforts not to

The fight (part 1) The fight (part 2) The fight (part 3)

Shawn an Y/n have a massive fight resulting in Shawn leaving when he’s about to go on tour the next day.

Do you think I want to be away from you?

Shawn is going on tour which results in him maybe missing the birth of his child which doesn’t settle well with Y/n

I meant what do we do after the ceremony but I see you’re thinking ahead

Shawn and Y/n tie the knot.

My plan was to follow your plan

Shawn and Y/n are looking after Shawn’s cousin, its really fluffy

I can’t wait to see you part 2

Shawn has a side chick and Y/n calls him out over it and the truth is uncovered ;)

Never

Someone in y/n’s family passes away and Shawn is on tour and she doesn’t tell him and he finds out through someone else and he gets angry that she didn’t tell him but also cries with her.

One Night Part 2

You’re in a relationship but you’re in love with Shawn- the only reason you’re not with him is because you’re scared of being hurt. One night things get heated between you and Shawn and feelings are confessed.

One for me, one for baby

Y/n is pregnant and asks Shawn to bring her weird combos.

Are you filming me?

Y/n is driving and Shawn is in the car too and another driver did something and y/n was just angry and swearing and Shawn laughs and records her.

I don’t know how to forget you

Shawn said some not so nice things about Y/n so she’s been avoiding him and he ends up coming over to her house when he says whats on his mind

Like that Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Based off like that by Bea Miller

You can’t protect me from everything

Y/n is three years younger than Shawn which causes her to get a bit of hate thus Shawn breaks up with her in hopes of lessening the amount of hate she gets.

Did you wish that was you?

Y/n has been in love with her best friend Shawn, she finally gets the courage to tell him but instead she finds him kissing another girl. He tracks her down and their feelings are revealed.

I’m doing this for you

Shawn is older by 3 years than Y/n and this causes a fight between them.

You deserve better than me

Y/n is curvier than the average girl but you and Shawn are dating and his friends question why he’s with y/n when he can be with anyone he wants and y/n overhears and gets really sad and insecure?

Like you used to

Y/n is feeling insecure for whatever reason and Shawn like reassures her and kisses her all over to make her feel good.

I didn’t come here to get teased

y/n and Shawn are a new couple and y/n got stuck in the rain on her way to see Shawn and he lets her wear his clothes because she is soaked

I’m sorry that I’m busy

Y/n goes on tour with Shawn, but she feels them getting distant from each other? She stays on the bus and continues to support him & after awhile (lots of talks between them) they make up?

I’m the real deal

100% bad boy Shawn

Notice anything different about me?

Y/n gets her braces off and waits for Shawn to notice.

Summer camp Part 2

Shawn and y/n hate each other from school but they are forced to share a room on a summer camp where there’s a change of heart.

Falling apart

Shawn seems to have time for everyone except fro Y/n so she decides to confront him about it.

All mine (Werewolf au)

Y/n comes home smelling like another male much to Shawn’s immediate displeasure which makes him go a little crazy to get her to smell like him again.

#welldamnshawn #welldamnshawnmasterlist #masterlist #my writing

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roywangtoday · 4 years

Text

王源：成为那道光

Wang Yuan: Be the Light

2018年岁末，王源经历了刚成年后的第一个冬天，在新发表的专栏文章里，他开启了对人生命题的总结和思索，记录了自己身处喧嚣时被诗人费尔南多·佩索阿的作品集《我的心略大于整个宇宙》击中心灵的瞬间。然后，他在文中写道：“满天繁星，有我想成为的那道光。”

At the end of 2018, Wang Yuan experienced the first winter of his adult life. In the newly published column, he had a summary and reflection on questions of life, and described the moment when he was hit by “A Littler Larger Than the Entire Universe”, poems written by Fernando Pessoa, in the hustle and bustle. He wrote: “The sky is full of stars, and there is a light I want to be.”

人的一生是悬于两道永恒黑暗间的一隙微光，唯当人内生的自我开始觉醒时，这道光芒才会璀璨闪现，在即逝的瞬间穿透黑夜，为更多双眼所看到。王源找到了那道应属于自己的光，而接下来，他要成为那道光。

A person's life is a gleam of light between two eternal darkness. Only when his inner self begins an awakening will this light flash brightly, penetrate the night at an ephemeral moment, and be seen by more eyes. Wang Yuan has found the light that belongs to him, and then he wants to be the light.

坐在采访桌前，王源轻轻呼了口气，已经是晚上11点，杂志封面的拍摄刚刚结束，他还需要完成专访。白天是他的个人纪录短片《没有哪个夏天像今年一样》的线下分享会，算起来，他已经连续工作了十几个小时。

Sitting in front of the interviewer, Wang Yuan exhaled softly. It was already 11:00 pm. The shooting for the magazine cover had just finished and he still needed to do an interview. He had a press conference for his personal documentary short film “No Summer Is Like This One” during the day. In total, he had been continuously working for more than fourteen hours.

“我得想想怎么说。”垂下眼，盯着自己交握在桌上的双手，王源停顿了下来。采访者提出的问题在过去大半年里，已经不止一次出现在他面前，记者们总是反复问他：是否意识到去异国学习音乐这一决定背后潜藏的风险和损失？他们总像是不能轻易接受他面上表现出来的坦然。

"I have to think about how to say it." Wang Yuan paused, staring down at his hands on the table. The questions raised by the interviewer have appeared in front of him more than once in the past six months, and journalists repeatedly asked him: are you aware of the risks and losses behind the decision to study music abroad? They always seemed unable to accept the calmness shown on his face easily.

这次得换种说法，王源抽出手比划起来：“打个比方，今天在您面前摆了一个最新款的包，买吗？”

This time, he had to put it another way, Wang Yuan took out his hand: "For example, today there’s a latest designer handbag in front of you, will you buy it?"

对方愣住了。

The interviewer froze.

“买不买？”王源继续追问道。

“Will you buy it or not?” Wang Yuan continued to ask.

“买吧。”

“Yes, I will."

“好，买！它有啥用？有性价比吗？没有，喜欢就完事了。”

"Okay, you will! What's it for? Is it cost-effective? No, just because you like it."

“前提还得要有钱……”回过神的采访者逗起他来。

“First of all, if I had a lot of money..." The interviewer collected herself and started to tease him.

“不是，那您都说买了。”王源有点着��，身体前倾抢过话头，但言语依旧礼貌。他拊掌强调着：“喜欢就完事了，喜欢就完事了，对不对？”

“But you said you would buy it." Wang Yuan got a little bit nervous. He leant forward and interrupted her, still in a polite way. He clapped his hands and emphasized: “It’s because you like it and that matters, right?”

话音刚落，身边的工作人员都为这孩子气的举动笑了起来，王源面上透出些不好意思，抓抓后脑勺补充道：“有些决定就是脑子一热，喜欢，而且我现在年纪其实也小，还有机会去试错，但如果现在错过了喜欢的事情，其实是会后悔的，我挺��自己后悔。”

As soon as he finished his words, the staff around him all laughed at the boyish behavior. Wang Yuan seemed a little embarrassed, he scratched his head and added: “I made some decisions impulsively, just because I like it, and I’m still young, so there is a chance of trial and error. But if I miss the thing I like now, I will regret. I don’t want to have any regrets.”

双手叠放回桌面，王源又恢复了乖巧标准的坐姿，他套着件白色的粗棒针毛衣，肩头瘦削，还带着少年人的脆弱美感，但微抬的脸上，轮廓线条已经立体起来，下颌转折处也有了凛冽的角度——这是19岁的王源，一个能与自己对话，并始终坚持自我选择的成年人。

Putting his hands back on the table, Wang Yuan returned to a proper and standard sitting position. He wore a white thick needle sweater, and the top of his shoulder looked slim, fragilely beautiful. However, he has a defined facial profile and a sharp jawline — this is 19-year-old Wang Yuan, an adult who knows himself and sticks to his decisions.

大一新生王源

Freshman Wang Yuan

“大家好，我叫王源，来自中国，见到你们很高兴。”

——王源／2019年9月／美国波士顿伯克利音乐学院"

Hello everyone, my name is Wang Yuan and I’m from China. Nice to meet you."

——Wang Yuan / September 2019 / Berklee College of Music, Boston, USA

2020农历新年过后，王源恢复到了“学校——公寓”两点一线的异国求学生活。他曾突发奇想把自己的生活划分成旧磁带的两面，A面是规律的学校生活，B面则代表着忙碌的工作。回到学校，身体就按下了跳转A面的播放键，开始了“吹不出褶”的平静日子。

After the Chinese New Year 2020, Wang Yuan got back into his life as an international student commuting between his apartment and school everyday. He once had an imagination to depict his life as two sides of an old tape, side A is regular school life, and side B represents busy work. Back at school, the body pressed the play button to jump to the A side, and peaceful days “without waves” began.

娱乐圈的喧嚣消失了，没有跑不见头的通告，也没了簇拥在左右的鲜花掌声和火热的眼神。在这里，王源能把头发简单地推成板寸，不需要每天出门前花费许久收拾造型，也不用时时戴着口罩。他能够自由地去逛超市，甚至大大方方地扛着一袋大米游荡街头。

The hustle and bustle of the entertainment industry disappeared. There were no endless schedules, no applause and flowers around, and no one was watching. Here, Wang Yuan can simply have a crew cut, instead of spending time on styling before going out every day, and he doesn’t have to wear a mask all the time. He is free to go to the supermarket and even walk in the street with a bag of rice on his shoulder.

“除了华人之外，国外的人其实不知道我是谁，我也不会告诉他们。”大一新生王源褪去了自己身上环绕许久的明星光环，快速融入了简单的求学生活。他和那些来自世界各地的同届学生一样，为了完成老师布置的作业头疼，还得提前很多天为排练作业订排练室，要不“就抢不到了”。新结识的外国朋友们也不曾发觉这个中国少年有何特别之处，除了一开始总会好奇地问他为什么总穿名牌。

"Except the Chinese, foreigners don't really know who I am, and I won't tell them." Freshman Wang Yuan took off his halo as a celebrity and quickly adapted to college life. Like other students from all over the world, he had to handle the coursework assigned by teachers and reserved the resemble room in advance for his rehearsal, or “they will be fully occupied”. New foreign friends have never noticed anything special about this Chinese boy, except that they asked him curiously in the beginning why he always wore expensive designer brands.

“他们老说我。”聊到这个，王源又有些不好意思：“我这几年没怎么买过衣服，带去美国的大部分都是品牌送的，上面都有logo。”

"They kept talking about that." Wang Yuan was a little embarrassed about it: "I haven't bought much clothes in the past few years. Most of those I brought to the United States were gifts from brands, with logos on them.”

被身边同学反复问过几次后，王源趁着波士顿大降温的机会，私下买了些寻常服装，替换掉了那些扎眼的名牌，不过他最后还是没将脚上的品牌球鞋换下来。“我从初中就开始收集这个牌子的鞋了，因为我喜欢，我还是照穿。”

After being asked several times by classmates, Wang Yuan bought some ordinary clothes in private to replace those fancy designer brands while the temperature dropped significantly in Boston. But he eventually kept his branded shoes. “I’ve been collecting shoes of this brand since junior high school, because I like them, I still wear them.”

“喜欢”，能为王源的很多决定作出最准确的注解，也是他选择在国内星途事业亟待更进一步的关键时刻，转而来到伯克利求学的源动力之一。但他新选择的道路又注定是不平坦的，一个曾替多位华语乐坛代表人物制作专辑的音乐制作人坦诚表示：“现在音乐是整个娱乐行业里最低的一个领域，艺人赚钱最少的就是做音乐。”

“I like it" can make the most accurate explanation for his many decisions. This is also one of the driving forces for him to study at Berklee at such a critical moment in his career. However, the path he chooses is destined to be uneven. A music producer who has made albums for many top Chinese musicians candidly admitted: "Now music is the underclass in the entire entertainment industry, and artists earn the least money by making music.”

高王源几级的伯克利音乐学院毕业生曲扬也同意这样的观点：“在国内，大家默认的华语音乐比较好的时段已经过去了。”曲扬先后就读于上海音乐学院和伯克利音乐学院，在他进入上音的第一堂课，老师就在讲台上向学生提问——“有多少人是想通过音乐赚大钱的？如果有人是这样想的，建议赶快改行。”

Qu Yang, a graduate from the Berklee College of Music, who is senior to Wang Yuan, agrees with that view: "We believe that the best era of Chinese music has gone.” Qu Yang once studied at the Shanghai Conservatory of Music and the Berklee College of Music. During his first lecture at the SCM, the teacher asked students: “How many of you want to make a lot of money from music? If anyone thinks so, I suggest you change your career as soon as possible.”

早在王源还未出生时，世界音乐唱片行业就已经被盗版和流媒体播放器的浪潮冲毁，而他还未长成的童年时期，属于华语音乐的黄金时代也飞速落幕。那条通过音乐抵达人生更高舞台的道路，已经变得格外狭窄，王源清醒地知道自己的选择中存在足够多的不确定性，采访中他用三个“不知道”回答了关于未来更高成就的设想，但他同样清楚，选择一条更为艰难的道路，于他而言具有更多的必然性。

Long before Wang Yuan was born, the world's music record industry was already destroyed by a tidal wave of piracy and streaming media players. And in his childhood, the golden age of Chinese music came to an end. The road to the higher stage of life through music has become extremely narrow. Wang Yuan clearly knew that his choice came with uncertainty. In the interview, he said “I don’t know” three times to answer the question about his vision for future achievements. And he’s also aware that choosing a difficult path means more inevitabilities for him.

2019年9月3日，在飞往美国波士顿的航班起飞前，王源在微博上发布了新的消息：“去一个陌生的地方学习音乐，就是为了在未来能够把自己变得很好，带回更好的我。”少年成名的偶像早就明白，自己不仅代表作为单一个体的王源，时至今日，被太多人关注和推崇的他，身后亦有不少年轻一代紧紧追随。前行的力量得源于此，他需要变得更强大完美，才能更好地回馈身后的千万支持者。

On September 3, 2019, before the flight to Boston took off, Wang Yuan posted a Weibo: "Going to an unfamiliar place to learn music is to make myself good enough in the future and to bring back a better me.” He became famous while young and had long understood that he not only represents Wang Yuan as a single individual. Today he’s been followed and admired by so many people, including the younger generation. The strength to move forward comes from this, and he needs to be stronger and more perfect to give back to the millions of supporters behind him.

偶像王源

Idol Wang Yuan

“大家看舞台上亮吗？但我看你们很黑。”

——王源／2019年4月／《我是唱作人》对战赛

“Do you think it’s bright on the stage? But when I look at you, it’s actually very dark."

— Wang Yuan / April 2019 / The competition show “I Am A Singer-Songwriter”

作为千禧年代最具代表性的青少年偶像之一，王源身上有着诸多奇迹，他现在在微博上拥有7883万粉丝，单条微博创下过转发超4.7亿的记录。这群数量庞大的粉丝，还有着惊人的购买力：2016年5月，王源登上一线时尚杂志封面，杂志48秒售出71319册，打破了彼时圈内记录。这个记录在一年后又被他自己打破：2017年王源拍摄封面的杂志当期线上预售8秒16万册售罄，付款金额高达480万元。

As one of the most iconic millennial teen idols, many miracles happened to Wang Yuan. Now he has 78.83 million followers on Weibo, and a post from him has set record for more than 470 million reposts. This large number of fans also has amazing purchasing power: In May 2016, Wang Yuan made an appearance on a top fashion magazine. In 48 seconds, the magazine sold 71,319 copies, breaking the best selling record of that time. One year later, this record was broken again: in 2017, a magazine with cover of Wang Yuan was pre-sold online, 160,000 copies were sold out in 8 seconds and total sales amounted to 4.8 million yuan.

王源的影响力更在持续向多元圈层辐射。2017年，他被《时代》周刊评选为2017年30位全球最具影响力青少年之一；2018年11月，刚满18岁的王源又出任联合国儿童基金会大使，并于次年11月在联合国大会上发表中文演讲，呼吁关注儿童受教育权利。

Wang Yuan continues to radiate influence on multiple circles. In 2017, he was named one of TIME’s 30 most influential teens of 2017; in January 2018, Wang Yuan, who had just turned 18, became the UNICEF ambassador, and spoke at a high-level meeting held by UN General Assembly in November 2019, calling for children’s right to education.

与王源合作制作英文单曲《The Wrong Things》的北美音乐人Justin Gray曾在微博上发布了自己与王源合作的视频，播放量很快就超过了100万。“It's crazy.”看到数据的Justin Gray感叹道。

Justin Gray, a Canadian musician who worked with Wang Yuan on his English single "The Wrong Things", once posted a video about their collaboration on Weibo, which soon surpassed 1 million views. "It's crazy." Justin Gray was surprised when he saw it.

去美国念书后，国内的通告大量减少，但王源依旧被动地活跃在公众视野中心——近期他曾心血来潮在波士顿的公寓里下了两次厨，煎了一回牛排，还用火锅底料煮了“不一样的面”。他把这些发在了社交平台上，话题“王源煎牛排”“王源用火锅底料煮泡面”很快登上了微博热搜。而他在出国读书后参加的首档综艺里，因为小秀了一把厨艺，为其余嘉宾做了重庆小面，节目播出当晚，“王源温柔”的话题就成了粉丝热议的焦点。

After he went to US for study, the domestic schedules were significantly reduced, but Wang Yuan is still in the public eye passively — he recently cooked twice in his apartment in Boston, once for steak and once for noodles with hot pot broth. He posted these on social media, instantly the topics “Wang Yuan Cooked Steak” and “Wang Yuan Boiled Noodles With Hot Pot Broth” started trending on Weibo. In the first variety show he joined after studying abroad, he made Chongqing noodles for other guests, and “Wang Yuan Kind” became a hot topic for his fans on the night the show aired.

这种细致又过度的关注从七年前王源出道时，就如影随形。13岁的少年一路走来，为万人追捧的光环下，埋藏着各种各样的争论和质疑。这种分裂的现实持续打磨着这个少年偶像，让他飞速成熟，也让他变得足够细腻敏感。

People has been paying meticulous and excessive attention to him since seven years ago Wang Yuan debuted. The 13-year-old boy walked all the way to here, behind his popularity there are all kinds of arguments and doubts. The divisive reality constantly polishes this young idol, which makes him become mature faster than others, and be considerate and sensitive enough.

“害怕有一丁点不完美的事发生，害怕内心的成年跟不上身体的成年，害怕无法实现昨天预设下的明天。”在被视为内心“自留地”的《王源说》专栏里，王源这样描述成长给予他的焦虑，他把自我审视列为每日任务清单上的常见栏目，时时冷眼回视着这个跌跌撞撞向前走的自己。

“I was worried that things couldn’t go perfectly and my mental couldn’t keep up with my body. Also I was afraid of failing to achieve goals I set for tomorrow.” In the magazine column “Roy Says”, which is seen as a secret base for him, Wang Yuan described the anxiety of growing up. He puts self-examination on his daily to do list, and frequently looks back at himself, one stumbles forward.

2019年，参加华语唱作人挑战类节目《我是唱作人》时，王源在舞台上落了泪，当时他正在演唱自己作词作曲的歌曲《世界上没有真正的感同身受》。他的歌词写道：“面对其实只有一个人，一个人在夜里哭着，哭到头疼直到睡着，没有人能真的理解你啊，觉得虚伪你逢场作戏，我一直都会记得一句话，强大到无往不利……”唱到高潮处，站立在聚光灯最盛的舞台中心，抱着电吉他的王源红了眼眶。

In 2019, during a Chinese competition show “I AM A SINGER-SONGWRITER”, Wang Yuan shed tears on the stage when he was singing “Impossible Empathy”, a song written by himself. He said in the lyrics: “I face situations all alone. I cried alone at night with a headache till I fell asleep. No one can really understand you, people think you’re a hypocrite. There’s one word I always remember, be strong to conquer it all…” Wang Yuan teared up when he hold an electric guitar and stood in the center of the stage, singing the chorus.

开唱之前，他曾��台下的观众：“大家看舞台上亮吗？”

Before singing, he asked the audience: “Do you think it’s bright on the stage?”

“亮！”观众高喊着回答。

"Yes!" The audience answered in a loud voice.

“但我看你们，其实很黑。”攥紧话筒，这个穿着白衬衣的少年人慢慢说道。

"But I look at you, it's actually very dark." Holding the microphone, the young man in a white shirt said slowly.

同年，在一档访谈节目中，王源坦然把自己的成功归结为“十四亿分之三”的运气，他没有表现出“顶流”的骄傲，也不曾抱怨这难得的运气背后隐藏的其他一些东西，而是平静地一道接受了它们。

In a talk show of the same year, Wang Yuan frankly attributed his success to luck, “three out of 1.4 billion”. He didn’t behave arrogantly as a “top artist”, nor complained about anything behind his good luck, but accepted reality calmly.

“你不可能永远幸运，有一次幸运你就得把握好它”。镜头前，王源穿着深色西装，领带系得标准，眼神愈发沉静硬朗。

“You can’t be lucky forever. Once you have the opportunity, you have to seize it.” In front of the camera, Wang Yuan wore a black suit with a proper tie, and his eyes showed firmness.

成人王源

Wang Yuan as an adult

“长大也必然伴随着焦虑与敏感，唯一的解决之道，就是站起来、走出去，去做自己该做的、喜欢的、能做的事。”

——王源／2019年1月／专栏《王源说》之《长大这件小事》

“Growing up is always accompanied by anxiety and sensitivity, and the only solution is to stand up, to walk out, to do what you need to do, what you like to do, and what you can do.”

— Wang Yuan / January 2019 / Magazine Column “Roy Says”: The Little Thing Called Growing Up

曾有评论者将王源比作流量文化下为粉丝所“驯养”的那朵玫瑰——是大众虚拟希望和现实客体的结合，是玻璃橱窗里包装精美的脆弱花朵。

Some people once described Wang Yuan as a rose “domesticated” by fans in the context of current celebrity culture — he is a combination of people’s virtual hope and the realistic object, a delicate and attractive flower in the display window.

但七年的时间过去，王源的选择和行动正持续打破着这个定义的边界，他证明了自己确有为人叹服的美丽，但美丽的“玫瑰”却韧不可摧，也积蓄了独自抵御风雪的力量。这种独立生长的意愿在更早的时候就显现了出来。

However, after seven years since his debut, Wang Yuan's choices and actions repeatedly broke the boundaries of this definition. He has proved his charm, a beautiful but indestructible “rose” with strength to withstand the storm alone. And his desire to grow independently emerged even earlier.

2019年上映的王小帅导演作品《地久天长》里，王源饰演一个顶着死去孩子“刘星”的名字生活、最终选择拿回自己的名字去流浪的少年。片中，王源提供了最为本色的演出，他觉得这个角色就根植在自己的身体里。“我们是自我意识很强的一代人。”电影在柏林电影节上展映后，他这样评价道。

In a 2019 film “So Long, My Son” directed by Wang Xiaoshuai, Wang Yuan played a teenager who lived with the name of a dead child “Liu Xing” and eventually chose to take back his real name and leave home. Wang Yuan gave the most authentic performance in this film and he felt that this character took root in his body. “We are a generation with a strong sense of self awareness” He commented after the film premiered at the Berlin International Film Festival.

进入19岁的这一年，强烈的自我感知在王源身上更加鲜明地袒露出来。入学伯克利之前，王源发行了第一张真正意义上的个人专辑《源》，并在南京举办了首次个人演唱会。在那档他不顾团队建议、执意要参加的音乐节目中，他表现得格外具有“进攻性”。最开始的试听DEMO环节，当其他选手还在迟疑，他就第一个冲进了试音间。

The year he turned 19, the self-awareness of Wang Yuan was revealed more clearly. Before he went to Berklee, Wang Yuan released his first official album “YUAN” and held his first solo concert in Nanjing. He was surprising “aggressive” in the competition show which he insisted to attend despite objections from his team. At the demo session, he was the first to go into the audition studio when others hesitated.

一个多月里，被质疑没有作品的王源，接连拿出了《随想》《吆不到台》《世界上没有真正的感同身受》等五首原创曲目，而每次挑战赛他对战的选手，都是比他资深许多的乐坛老将。

During the six weeks, facing disapproval of his previous work, Wang Yuan continuously wrote five original song, including “Random Thoughts”, “Yao Bu Dao Tai” and “Impossible Empathy”. Every opponent he chose was much more experienced in the music industry.

“成年猛虎！”哪怕充满了紧张和不安，这个满脸胶原蛋白的年轻人也只是张开双臂，对着镜头晃晃拳头给自己短暂鼓劲儿后，就转身跑进了赛场。

“Adult tiger!” Although he felt stressed, this young man opened his arms and shook his fists in front of the camera to cheer himself up, then ran onto the stage.

“这一年，我觉得是成长最快的一年。几件大事情都是自己在做决定，自己在承担。”采访桌那头，王源的语气沉稳有力，和大家梳理着过去大半年的生活。

“I grew up the fattest this year. I made decisions and took responsibilities for several big things in my life.” From the other side of the table, his voice sounded deep and powerful. He shared his life in the past six months.

这个曾急切地想以“刚哥”的绰号摆脱固有标签的男孩，成年后更趋向于以“柔”作为新的进攻方式，也逐渐学会与自己的焦虑和解，找到了内心世界攻防相守的平衡。面对曾让他最头疼的写歌“难产”期，王源现在也淡定了很多：“以前抓耳挠腮，现在就不管了，等灵感来了再写。着急也没用，不如放轻松。”

In the past, he was eager to get rid of stereotypes and wanted to be called “Steel Brother”. After turning 18, Wang Yuan tended to attack in a moderate way. He gradually learnt to reconcile with his anxiety and found balance in his inner world. Even in face of challenges in songwriting that troubled him most, Wang Yuan is calmer: “I used to be stressed out but now I’ll leave it there until I get inspirations. Anxiety is not helpful, it’s better to take it easy.”

当然，某些时候你还是能看到他身上藏着的柔软和不安，去异国求学半年，除了工作需要，他基本都待在波士顿及周边。

Certainly you can still see the softness and worry hidden by him sometimes. During the past six months, he stayed in Boston and neighborhoods except for work.

“（长途旅行）挺危险也挺麻烦，虽然自由，但人生地不熟，一个人跑到一座新的城市，也没啥好玩的。”没课时，王源宁愿待在公寓看书写歌，或者和国内的小伙伴组队玩玩游戏。

“(A long-distance travel) can be dangerous and troubling. Although it’s free in an unfamiliar city but not much fun when you visit it alone.” In spare time, Wang Yuan would rather stay in his apartment, reading books, writing songs or playing games with friends in China.

当被追问是否从小就不习惯一个人去陌生的环境时，他淡淡答道：“不知道，我从小就出来工作了，没有一个人去过。”

When asked if he was not used to facing a new environment alone since he was a kid, he answered: “I don’t know. I started working young so I've never visited places alone.”

那些独属一个少年偶像的痕迹显露了出来。他过早地被这个时代选中，巨大的流量将他飞速推向成功，但接下来却又要花费十数年，跋涉过五光十色的山水，走出那片最初的福泽。对王源来说，成长的契机来得那样早，而长成的路也那样长。幸运的是，在赞歌和荣光的包围中，他牢牢防守住了自己的初心。

The unique features of a young idol gradually appear. He was chosen by the era too early, enormous popularity drove him to success overnight, and it may take years for him to walk through mountains and pay for the gift bestowed in life. For Wang Yuan, the opportunity came so early but it would be a long way to go. Luckily, even when surrounded by praise and glory, he firmly remembers why he started.

采访结束时，王源意外说起自己最近迷上了单板滑雪。“最大感受就是摔。摔得比较狠，是真疼。”他还是初学者，不久前才刚会换刃。早两年学习双板滑雪时，他从没摔过，但现在却只能在一次接一次摔跤的挫败中，慢慢爬起来，站回板上。

At the end of the interview, Wang Yuan mentioned that he got hooked on snowboarding recently. “The most impressive thing is falling. I fell badly and that really hurt.” He lately learnt how to turn on a snowboard and was still a beginner. Two years ago when he learnt to ski, he never fell. But now he has to overcome the frustration after falling over and over again, stand up and get back on the skateboard.

“是真的很挫败、很挫败，但从刚开始完全不会，后来能站上去慢慢往下滑，能一点点找到新的成就感。”说到这里，一直表情严肃的年轻偶像不知想到了什么，终于笑了起来。兴许把每一次尝试都当做fresh start，也挺好。

“It was really frustrating. In the beginning, I didn’t know how to do it at all, but now I can stand on the skateboard and go downhill slowly. It gives me a sense of accomplishment little by little.” When he talked about it, this young idol who looked serious during the interview seemed to think of something and finally smiled. Maybe it’s great to take every attempt as a fresh start.

translated by Mian, Sheep

proofread by Moni, Nancy

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itsalliepg · 5 years

Text

While She Was Away (Zig’s POV) - Zig x Scarlett (MC)

SUMMARY: Zig's point of view after breaking up with Scarlett (MC) and her trip to London in The Senior.

PAIRING: Zig x Scarlett (MC)

WORDS: 4635

RATING: Teen

SONG: Waiting For a Girl Like You - Foregner

NOTE: Hey guys! Here’s Zig’s POV about The Senior events (I mean, their break up and how he decided to go to London to see her). It’s the first time I write in first person and I enjoying a lot getting into Zig’s mind LOL I must warn you there’s angst but if you know me, you can wait for a happy ending ;) English isn’t my native language. I write to practice and learn, so please sorry any mistakes. I hope you like it, and if you do, I’d appreciate if you like/comment/reblog!

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Then Scarlett closed the door and I threw myself on the couch. The last thing we shared was a dirty look. Not even goodbye. She was mad at me, and I was mad at her. Why did our relationship become that? Couldn’t she understand my side? Couldn’t she be happy for me, as she always did? She was always so supportive of me, when I decided to go to Hartfeld, when I joined the football team, the dance team, when my grades were tampered with…and this was the most important step I would take, I would leave my family, my friends for the biggest adventure of my life, and I wanted her to come with me! I was thinking about her too when I signed up for the teaching program, wouldn’t it be a life-changing experience for her too? I thought about how much inspiration she would have if she traveled to a totally different country, with a totally different culture, and she’s so intelligent, she could get a job there in no time…I got up and walked around the living room. I kept repeating her words in my mind, trying to find out what happened, why we ended up like this.

Did you even stop to think that I might have my own plans? Or were you too busy thinking about yourself?

How would you feel if I’d just taken it? Without talking to you? Without giving you a say?

So you’re saying I shouldn’t even try?

Is that all you think I do? I just laze around typing on my laptop all day? What about my career?

Funny, I seem to be the only person sacrificing anything in this arrangement.

Is that what our relationship’s come to? Either you give up your dream or I do? Zig, I can’t do this. If that’s how you really feel we’re done!

“If I really loved you”? Really? I’ve been nothing but supportive since we started dating. Because I’m the supportive one! The helpful one! The one everyone calls in a crisis! Need a study buddy? Want to throw a party? How about a cheerleader for your dance audition? Just call Scarlett! She’ll drop everything!

Well after three freaking years it’s my turn to be selfish, damn it! And if you can’t find room in “our plan” for my dreams, then I’ll make my own plan. Without you!

I mean we’re over.

That was rough. I was wondering if I should go after her and say that we could talk and work things out, maybe we could try long-distance like we did during the summer when she was in San Francisco, but I think I was too shaken after those words.

We’re over.

The tears I was holding came easily. I was mad at everything. At the world. At Scarlett. But especially at me. I couldn’t help but feel it was all my fault. I was in a trance when I suddenly felt Oliver hopping on my legs. Nala was following behind. I could see how sad they were. They knew something bad had happened.

_I’m sorry you had to hear all this, babies – I took Nala in my arms and scratched Oliver’s head – but mommy’s gone, and… - that was too much. My next words were punctuated by sobs – I don’t know when she’ll be back…for a while, it’ll just be daddy with you – I walked towards the room and saw Aylmer in his tank. He was also sad – oh, Aylmer, I’m sorry – I put some food for him in the water while I stared at her side of the closet, empty. It broke my heart even more. That apartment was so hollow when she was in California, but I talked to her every day, so it helped me to deal with her absence. Now she no longer lived here. But the sight of a whole wardrobe with only my clothes on wasn’t as hurtful as what I saw on her desk. The star necklace I gave her two years ago on her birthday, the first one we spent together. She never left home without it, and now…she did it. That was a sign that she wanted nothing more about me in her life.

I still thought Scarlett was being selfish. But she was right. She’s a caretaker, as I said a few days ago, she always put other people’s necessities over hers, and I always had to remember her she was important too. And she finally took my advice. She understood that her career was important. I was thinking about her when I decided that but…I didn’t consider what she wanted. It was really all my fault.

I lay on the bed and stared at the necklace in my hands while cursing myself a million times. All the fears I had when I met Scarlett came back to haunt me. When I saw her in the coffee shop for the first time, I remember exactly how I was dazzled by her beauty. All I wanted was a chance to talk to her, and then she helped me after I punched Sebastian, and fate continued to put our paths together. But even so, I was afraid. Afraid that she would get tired of me. Or that she would see that we were from different worlds. She was smart, had a lot of friends who loved her, a solid family structure, she had everything to conquer the world. And I had a damn criminal record that only gave me low-paying jobs and judgments wherever I went. I couldn’t give her a good life, the life she deserved. She wouldn’t be eager to introduce me to her family as her boyfriend. I wasn’t good enough for her. But she believed in me. In a way that I never believed myself. Of course, my mom and sisters believed in me, but having this support from someone who wasn’t my family, and I was so interested, meant the world to me. I almost couldn’t believe she said yes when I asked her to be my girlfriend. And we lived so many things together, and then rented this apartment together…I’ve never felt so happy in my life. I could have a college degree as I always dreamed of and had an amazing woman by my side to face the world with me. And during our trip we made so many plans, where would we live, children…I love her more than I ever loved someone. And now I screwed everything. That feeling that I would do some bullshit and throw it all away. And I did. Congrats, Zig.

My phone started buzzing and I saw my mom was calling me. I texted her earlier saying that I had good news. It didn’t look so good now. I let my phone ring. I was in no mood to talk. I just wanted to cry all the pain I was feeling in my heart.

Almost a month has passed since Scarlett and I broke up. I had no guts to unfriend her on FaceSpace, but I also didn’t want to see her. I mean, I wanted, but I didn’t know how I would react if I saw her triumphs she didn’t want to share with me. Sometimes I wondered if she thought about me, if she missed me as much as I did. She only texted me to ask about our pets, and as much as I tried, I couldn’t answer more than “They’re fine”. I asked the gang if they had news about her, but she barely spoke to them either. Zack only knew she was living with her parents and driving all the way to Hartfeld every day, and would get that study abroad program in London. Maybe she would do that interview in person. She really wanted to focus on her now. And I had no space in it. I wanted to be angry, but then I remembered I did the same. And I should also focus on the trip to Japan about to happen, I would stay a week in Tokyo to know the school that was assigned to me and visit the city. I should be excited, that was all I wanted, right? But I wasn’t. I wish she was with me. I only knew she was going to London because Abbie told me Scarlett was saying goodbye to her. I thought…it would be nice if I texted her wishing a good trip…I took my phone and started writing…but then I deleted it. I must have done this a thousand times. So I finally sent something.

Good luck in London. Be safe.

I started cursing myself again. Just that, Zig? How about “I miss you” or “I love you” or “I’m sorry”? I didn’t know why I couldn’t write more than that. I stared at my phone and Oliver jumped on my lap and licked my face, trying to cheer me up. But I knew he was sad.

_I know, buddy. I miss her too.

I was sitting in a park under a cherry tree in Tokyo and texting my mom. She was very happy for me, never imagined a kid of hers could go this far. And at the same time, she tried to cheer me up. That’s what I wanted, and I was doing my best to make the most of Tokyo, but each new place I visited, each new food I tried, each new Japanese word I learned, I couldn’t help thinking about Scarlett and how much she would love that. The smiles in the pictures I posted online where almost fake. This trip would be the beginning of everything, and I wasn’t as happy as I should have been. That trip was the reason for the worst mistake I made in my life. Was she thinking of me in London as much I thought of her in Tokyo?

I was in the library working on my thesis and thank God, I was inspired and everything was going well. Then I felt a hand in my shoulder.

_Hey, Zig. Sorry, are you busy?

_Hey, Abbie. I was just working on my thesis, but I should take a break now – she sat next to me – what’s up?

_So, I’m going to London tomorrow to spend a weekend with Scarlett – I felt a chill down my spine.

_Oh, that’s nice…

_Do you…do you want me to say something to her? – she stared at me until I finally said something.

_I just want you to let me know how’s she’s doing. If she’s okay, you know – Abbie nodded, she knew I wanted to say more. But I simply couldn’t, I don’t know why I became so coward. I could ask Abbie to tell Scarlett that I missed her, and still loved her after all, but the words never left my mouth.

_Okay, I’ll tell her – she gave me a reassuring squeeze in my shoulder before leaving the library. It was difficult but within minutes I was back in my thesis.

Abbie came back, and she suggested the gang a night in a bar to be able to tell us about her trip to London. Scarlett was fine, and that relieved me. She was having fun in London and the job offer was incredible, Scarlett would have a great salary, enough to live well there. I was happy for her, really. But it hurt to know she was going her own way without me. I quietly left the table and sat down on a bench outside the bar. All the tears I’ve been holding for almost two months have left my eyes.

_Zig, are you okay? – Chris sat next to me and I wiped away my tears.

_She’s fine without me, isn’t she? – I asked still sobbing – she loves being in London and received a job offer that she couldn’t refuse. Why would she turn it down? – Chris wrapped an arm around my shoulders – she’ll stay in London and I’ll go to Tokyo. I’ll never see her again and it’s all my fault!

_Zig, she didn’t say she would take that job, and if you sit and talk when she comes back, I’m sure you can work things out �� I shook my head.

_I don’t think she wants to see me. After everything I’ve done, I deserve that. God, I miss her so much!

_She also misses you, Zig – Abbie also left the bar and crouched in front of me – she asked me about you, but I knew she wanted to talk to you, but she couldn’t. Just like you – she smiled at me, and I outlined a smile.

_You think she misses me?

_I didn’t go to London, but I’m sure she does – Chris messed with my hair like he used to do when I did well in our football practices – a strong relationship like yours can’t end like this.

_You were always so supportive of each other, and mellowed, unlike me and Tyler…I know you can work things out if you talk – I felt more excited.

_Maybe I could…no, this is crazy…

_What? – Chris asked.

_Go to London to see her, and apologize, and say everything I’m holding on to my chest. It can’t be over the phone. I need to look her in the eye.

_It’s a great idea, Zig! You should surprise her, I will send you her address.

_But I have no money to afford a ticket to London. I spent almost everything I had in Japan… - I could see Abbie and Chris exchanging a look.

_What if…we chip in and buy you a ticket? – I looked at Chris, startled.

_What? I…no, I couldn’t accept.

_Zig, we love Scarlett and you, you’re our dear friends and we want the best for you. If this makes you and her feel better, I’m sure the others would love to help – that was awesome. I started to cry again, but now with joy.

_I…wow, I don’t even know what to say. You’re the best friends a guy could ask for – I stood up and wrapped the two of them in tight hugs.

_So, how about you go Friday night?

_I could go now, Abbie! But Friday night looks great.

All the way to London, I kept thinking about everything I wanted to say to Scarlett. I repeated the words in my head over and over again. At the same time I had a pitch of hope in my heart that we could be together again, I was afraid she wouldn’t want to. After everything I did, she had a right not to want to forgive me. I took a taxi to the address Abbie texted me and knocked on the door louder than I wanted. I finally heard the sound of a key opening it.

_Hey…what are you doing here? – there she was. As beautiful as I remembered. It was almost four years since I first saw her, but she was still able to take my breath away. Scarlett. The woman I loved more than anything. The woman who changed my life forever.

_I’m here for you, Scarlett. I can’t do this anymore – I was so nervous I was trembled – Can I…come in? – she hesitated for a few seconds. Oh, great. She will slam the door in my face, I deserve it. But no, she moved aside so I could get into her flat. I sighed and looked into her beautiful brown eyes – I love you, Scarlett, and I made a huge mistake. The way we left things, I half expected you to slam the door in my face. And I would have deserved it. But…Scarlett, I can’t stand being without you – I ran my hand through my hair and sighed again – I keep thinking about our last fight. I was such an idiot. I was so excited about Japan, I didn’t think about what it would mean for you. You were right to call me on it. I took you for granted, and just assumed your support was a given. I’m so, so sorry Scarlett. I love you, Scarlett. I love you and miss you. Please take me back – the words came easily, better than I expected. She looked at me sweetly.

_Oh, Zig…I missed you too. I’d be lying if I said I never thought about you – she smiled shyly – it doesn’t help that my flat looks out onto a dance studio. Every Thursday they teach ballroom dance, and I think of our vacation – I smiled too.

_We certainly taught the folks at Golden Oaks a thing or two, didn’t we? – I approached her slowly, and took her hand. That was the first time I touched her after those two months apart. I wanted her to know how much I cared about her with just that gesture – I know I screwed up. We should have talked about our plans for graduation months before now. In hindsight, I realize you tried to bring it up, but I assumed things would just “work out” because we loved each other.

_What are you saying?

_Why don’t we have that talk now? And this time, I’ll listen. Please give me another chance – I looked at her and she just looked me in the eye. For the first time, I couldn’t realize what she was thinking. I didn’t know if she would fight me again, or let go of my hand, until she finally spoke.

_Yes, yes, yes! – she squeezed my hand and smiled, that smile I loved so much, lightening up her face.

_Y-you mean it? – I asked, stammering, eyes wide. That was too good to be true. Still smiling, she nodded, and before I knew, she launched herself in my arms and kissed me. That was our first kiss in two months and, wow, how I missed feeling her lips on mine. I held her as tightly as I could, but nothing seemed enough.

_It’s been too long since I’ve been kissed senseless, Zig – she smirked. Was she daring me like we used to do? I laughed, I was so happy to got her back. I just bit her lower lip and whispered.

_Guess I’ve got some catching up to do – I took her in my arms again and guided her against the wall while I kissed her as if it were the last thing I would do in my life. I was remembering everything, her taste, her scent, her warmth, the feeling of tangling my fingers in her hair, not that I had forgotten, but the reality was better than any fantasy. I lost track of time and stopped when we were both gasping for air.

_Zig, one. Senses, zero – she joked, but I could tell she was a little dizzy. I laughed at her joke, at the effect I had on her and all the happiness I was feeling. But we needed to talk.

_I’m serious, though. What do we want our future to look like? Honestly, as long as we’re together, I’m good with anything.

_I want…to go to Japan with you – what? Did she really say that?

_Are you sure? I don’t want you to give up your dream for me.

_I’m sure. Like you said, we should have talked about your placement beforehand. If we had, I would have told you to go for it. I knew it was coming after all. I was just hurt that you decided for both of us, and I needed to choose something for myself – I looked down, embarrassed. She noticed, then smiled and took my hands – so I chose Quills and gave it a shot. But now…I’m choosing you. I want to travel with you to Japan. I want to learn a new language. I want to explore the unknown with you – that was too good to be true. But after all, I didn’t want her to feel she had to go to Japan with me just because I wanted to.

_Scarlett, that’s amazing, but your writing’s important. Will you feel fulfilled in Japan? Quills sounded like a dream job.

_It’s definitely someone’s dream job. Just not mine. I’ve read Quills Magazine. They’re really influential in the European journalism scene, but I don’t think that’s my scene. I won’t stop writing in Japan. I’ll keep hustling. I’ll send in applications. But as long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy – she took my face in her hands and caressed my cheek before kissing me again. I rested my forehead on hers. That was everything I wanted. Japan wouldn’t be the same without her – I never dreamed you would follow me all the way to London – I pulled back and smiled at her.

_You should thank our friends – I told her about Chris’ idea. She grinned that way I loved – and they were so sure we would make up that they buy me a ticket back to US just for tomorrow night! I don’t know where I would sleep if you didn’t want to come back to me.

_Well, I wouldn’t let you sleep on the street, or at the airport – she smiled and hugged me – and does that mean you will be here for the weekend? That’s great! I’m not ready to let you go yet! – we giggled – and we should have some fun! I’ll show you my favorite spots in London, pubs, restaurants, parks, shops…

_By the way, is this dress new? – I pointed to the beautiful velvet dress she was wearing. I must not know much about women’s fashion, but I did know when an outfit looked good on her – I don’t think I ever saw you wear it. Did you buy here?

_Well, it was bought here, but by my mother. Did you know she also lived here when she was my age? – she told me about her mother living here, and we had an incredible afternoon together (she was happy when I returned the necklace), she took me to the Tower of London, then we had dinner and some drinks in a pub before I took her to my surprise in Big Ben (thanks, Aaron!) where we could satisfy our desires and show how much we missed each other. I have to say, I would never have imagined one day I would have sex inside Big Ben! But I’m glad it was with Scarlett. And I was madly missing having her body against mine. Sunday night came and I traveled back to Hartfeld, but I didn’t get on the plane before Scarlett covered me with kisses, and I, of course, did the same. The travel back was much better that the outward one. I couldn’t wait for her to come home.

The following Saturday, I was driving to Scarlett’s parents’ house. She was staying in England for two more weeks and asked me to bring back to Hartfeld some of her clothes that were in the Thomas. But I also something else to talk to them about. Very important. I told my mom about it and she gave me all the support I needed. Therese and Louis opened the door when I arrived. Both of them smiling widely at me.

_Zig! It’s so good to see you again!

_It’s good to see you too, Louis – I hugged them both.

_Scarlett’s clothes are already in her bag, but I hope you stay a little longer – I noticed that, although they were separated, they seemed to get along very well. I couldn’t say they were facing a crisis if I didn’t know. This was good. Maybe they were reconciling and Scarlett would be happy – do you want to have lunch with us?

_I don’t want to be an inconvenience to you.

_Nonsense, Zig. You’re very welcome here. And we’re so happy you and Scarlett are back together! – Louis said. I smiled bashfully.

_Yeah, I’m very happy too. And I must apologize to you, for everything I said and did to your daughter. It was the worst mistake of my life – Therese smiled sweetly at me.

_You don’t have to apologize. You two are young, are still learning to deal with relationship issues. If even older people have problems… - she glanced at Louis. But I felt more relieved. After what I did, I was afraid they would…well, it doesn’t matter anymore.

_Well, I’m glad you are not mad at me. Because I want to talk to you about something very important.

_Oh, what it would be? – Louis said and sat on the couch. Therese and I did the same. I was sat in an armchair in front of them. I was just as nervous as the first time I met them. I sighed and could feel my heart calming. Okay, Zig. You can do it.

_First of all, I want to say that all this time apart only made me see how much I love Scarlett and how lucky I am for having her in my life. When I first met her, I was unhappy with my life and all my dreams of having a college degree and working with something I like were kind of dead inside of me. But then I met her and she made me see how much I was worth and that I could do anything I want. My life changed because of her, not only because she inspired me to it, but also because I could see a future with her. I love her with all my heart and soul and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to introduce her to people as my wife – I looked at Louis – you said that day that you gave me permission to propose to Scarlett. But after everything that had happened, I don’t know if I still have it. So I want to ask: do I still have permission to marry Scarlett? – they had an unreadable expression in their faces, which made me even more nervous.

_Zig, of course you have permission! You make Scarlett so happy that it also makes us happy.

_Louis is right, Zig. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my daughter so happy since you started dating. You supported her through all the difficulties she had over these three years you’re together and it’s good to know there’s someone is looking after her – they grinned at me and I smiled back. Kindness was definitely a family thing.

_Thank you so much. It means a lot to me.

_And…Scarlett told us you’re going to Japan after graduation? – Therese asked and I told them all about the teaching abroad program while we eat. I had a wonderful time with my girlfriend’s parents and never felt so welcome somewhere before. What happened was water under the bridge and I got a new chance to make things right. I drove the way back to Hartfeld, thinking about how I would propose to Scarlett. The night before the graduation could be a good one. Louis mentioned he was thinking of making a reservation at a nice restaurant to celebrate our graduation and all our friends would be invited. I was already saving money to buy a ring, and it had to be a gorgeous ring, just like Scarlett. I couldn’t wait to propose to her. I was more than ready to take the next step with her.

While she was away, I thought that I had lost her forever. The days without her were the worst of my life. Since I met her, since I laid eyes on her for the first time, she never left my thoughts. But now I’ve got her back. And I would cherish that to the fullest. Because I knew what it feels when she’s not around. I would dedicate my life to making her happy. Even more than I ever did before.

#zig ortega #zig x mc #zig x scarlett #the senior #fanfic #choices fanfic #choices #playchoices

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amaranthinerose42 · 4 years

Text

As Pertaining to Twin Flames

Blah blah blah, letting go, blah blah, I get it. I also recently heard an important lesson about work. Sometimes we find ourselves fighting and fighting for the same thing even if it’s hard Because it was so hard. Giving up would mean all that time and effort would amount to nothing, right? Nah, all that work was also inner work. You’ve done “Work” “Effort” and that energy spent is not lost, it’s been used to strengthen yourself. So that relationship you’ve had to work So hard on that just isn’t working out, is not lost time. It was necessary.

I’m letting go of this guy because I essentially don’t have a choice. It’s the obvious choice to let him go. I could say it was because I projected an idea of who he was onto him, because tarot lead me to believe he’s the one so that I could stand up for myself and say, that’s cool but I don’t really need it, physically 3-D speaking. Because we’re not ready, because he isn’t the one, blah blah blah.

Doesn’t matter why. Can’t read the future. Not like that. Time doesn’t work like that. Whatever. Anyway, with all this back and forth of me being obsessed, not obsessed, annoyed, in love, not in love, This walk away will be significant. I wanted to make a few posts about it because he played a big part in my spiritual awakening.

The summer of 2018, I was paying attention to signs as I had been all my life. I was working out at the gym listening to music when I got a message. A song came on called Love is Blue. The melody reminded me of another song called Instrumental Incident. I re-listen to both of them and find that neither have similar melodies. I don’t know why my brain connected them. When something feels important to me, I hold onto that in my memory. Love is Blue, so I kept my eyes peeled for blue.

I was also under the impression I was going to come to face to face with something soon. I was going to study abroad and I just had this image I was going to come face to face with a giant snake. Metaphorically. Don’t know, just had a vision about it. Also had a dream a few days before leaving about being on a train with a bunch of friends and entering a land that had giant snake statues. Like the ones in Harry Potter 2. In the basilisk chamber.

Sep 2018- June 2019

I studied abroad in England. Lived in a flat with 13 other people. 14 people, two showers, two fridges. We miraculously made it work and there was little to no drama between us all. Whenever there was it was drunken stupidity and misunderstandings. As a person with little friends and lots of social anxiety, being able to get totally wasted and bond with so many people who get along was basically like dying and going to heaven. And on day three one of the guys I lived with I found made me extremely nervous to talk to and couldn’t shake the way he looked at me. Striking blue eyes. He also mentioned snakes on that first night. Anyway, I couldn’t shake the way he talked to me, to others, just talked. The way he’d be so kind and go out of his way to do a small favor. The way he’d offer to let me borrow a pair of his earrings because I forgot mine. The way he offered the shirt off his back so I could finish a look. The way he went all out and dressed up for a funeral we had for a caterpillar and read my poem I made for it. The way he made witty comments. Would laugh at my comments.

I had dreams. Strange dreams. Not really romantic ones. There would be moments. Feelings. Things I hadn’t had with other people before. The kind of feelings where a split moment I felt like he was so close, like I could just be comfortable with being physically close to him. Then other times he’d just feel distant. Not emotionally, not physically, just far away. That feeling or vibe of closeness would feel far away. Writing about this is difficult, I just had never felt that way before and it hurts to write about. I’m not sure why this loss hurts. I never had him. Physically. Emotionally.

Honestly if he had been paying attention he’d see by how I acted how I felt. The gifts, the stuttering, the awkwardness. Few months pass and finally when I stood in front of him and confessed my feelings he told me he never knew. Maybe he was lying. Of course, he was on his way to a date that very moment. Timing was hilariously off. I do remembering him saying “That’s hilarious” when he realized how I finally confess my feelings as he’s on his way to a date. Perhaps an asshole-ish thing to say, but I agreed. It was hilarious. It was like this all the time. Just missing each other in the halls, I’d come back as he’s leaving, visa versa. All. The. Time.

The universe would not let it happen. But I was so alive that year. I set up events and group activities hoping he’d finally have time to join or if things would align to let him join us. Either by his own will or busy schedule, he would never. I’d give up. Then try again. Poems, confession letters, romantic ideas consumed me. Kept me alive. I made him a music playlist before winter break, for valentines day I gave him a rose and a poem, on his birthday a regrettably risky message in his birthday card, drunk text. All of them as real, friendly, honest, and respectful to his boundaries as possible. I was always very careful, acted chill around him Too chill to avoid embarrassment.

These emotions felt So strong to me that I was terrified of scaring him. He’s bigger and stronger than me, but I was so afraid of him thinking I’m a creep. I admitted this to him in that drunk text. All of his responses were similar to all of my offerings. “Thank you so much, this is so amazing and I’m flattered, but I am sort of with someone/dont feel the same way. This isn’t creepy at all so don’t worry.”

Then when we see each other in person he acts as though nothing happened. I should’ve given up but it’s hard to get over someone you hear every day in the hallway outside your door. My friends eventually hated him for not hanging out with us and for being the reason I hurt so much. (Really it was my self worth issues)

So much happened that year. So much crazy shit. I want to write a book about it. Going to. Eventually. I sent him, and everyone, off by writing everyone a letter. His was the longest. Said thank you for essentially existing, apologizing for myself again, talked about missed opportunities, threw in some nice compliments. He actually replied to it with a “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said” followed by a “Missed opportunities maybe, who knows, good luck with life” kind of message. The end of his message gave a possible nod to one of my dreams. Maybe I imagined it.

And that was it.

#Twin Flame Journey #Spiritual Awakening

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diningpageantry · 5 years

Text

First Days

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672919/chapters/44630452

Chapter 2/12 of Proximity (The Collision of Lonely Men)

Word Count: 2451

Chapter Summary: Simon makes a friend, and maybe an enemy at the same time.

First days send me back to being a teen.

The anxious new faces and tired, sagging ones of upperclassmen trying to get around them. The pushing, the shoving. The new class schedules, and the confused kids who don't even know who they are, much less what they're doing.

Thankfully, now, I get to watch it from afar. Although I feel like I'm locked up in a tower.

This is the shittiest fairy tale I could imagine.

Brushing my hands over the stack of papers laid out on my desk, I let the day's weight ease onto me. I only have five appointments today, but that doesn't mean I won't get bombarded by students trying to change their classes last minute. I know how it is, I shadowed a public school counselor for a year.

The pile of work out in front of me is a bit dense, but easy. New students, all second or third year transfers. And… lunch is in four hours. That's, at least, something to look forward to.

Well, except for being thrown further into that teenaged “Who do I sit with” bullshit. I haven't left my room much in the past week, and I highly doubt Mr. Stick In The Arse will let me sit beside him (though, I wouldn't be shocked to find that he sits alone). That, of course, leaves me with no other option that the fact that I'll be standing alone, waiting to find the furthest spot from everyone else.

Brilliant.

I get halfway through my morning before the Dean stops in, standing at my doorway as I'm rearranging a student's schedule. He knocks once, sending me jumping before I straighten up. “Oh, hello. Good morning sir--David.”

His nose turns up unimpressively. “You'll be introduced before lunch so that the faculty knows you beyond a welcome email.”

Well, there's no yes or no to that. Guess it's an order. “Okay. I'll be there.”

After nodding briefly and flicking his wrist watch out for a look, he turns on his heel and leaves me without another word.

I know I've never had a father, but he's the closest thing to a disappointed, high standards parent I think I've ever gotten, and it's only been a week.

Checking the time doesn't prove to be much of a spirit lifter. 10:48. Lovely.

I stare out the window, pen clicking impulsively in my hand as I follow a few leaves fluttering across a sidewalk. Empty. It's all empty. Locked away classrooms and borderline solitary confinement for me.

I introduced myself to the other counselor. She's in her late 60s and seems very cold. I doubt I'll talk to her much except for good mornings. That, of course, leaves me knowing three people so far. The Dean, Professor Pitch, and her.

I might as well count the pigeons I fed last night as friends too. They've paid more attention to me than anyone else around here.

Exhale. Slow, steady exhale, blowing out through my mouth.

It feels like a century before lunch finally hits. It takes me a bit of navigating, but I finally find the building after roaming the grounds for a good 10 minutes. Once inside, I steer myself towards the lunch line, avoiding the watchful eyes of students and faculty alike, starting to fill up the rooms.

I'm guilty of stuffing as much food as possible onto my tray, swiping my ID, and scuffling back to the staff dining room. It's empty, all but for the Dean, who's pacing towards the back. Such an odd man. “David?” I manage out, weight shifting nervously from foot to foot.

His head perks up, fingers resting upon his chin. “Ah yes, Mr. Snow. Thank you for being early. Come, sit.”

Following orders is easy to do. Take a seat and stare at my hands as others filter through. I worry that I'm sat in someone else's “spot” as a short, unamused woman takes a seat a few chairs around away from me. She gives me a familiar once over, looking through the top of her glasses before she shoves down a mouthful of salad.

A hand clasps over my shoulder, snapping my from my trance and jolting me standing. It feels as though the entire room is staring (they probably are). Scurrying quickly, I find myself standing feet away from the Dean, nervously picking at the pills of my jumper. Everyone falls silent at the wave of his hand--it's like magic.

“I'd like to take this opportunity, as we're all already gathered, to allow our new guidance counselor, Mr. Snow, to introduce himself.” Introduce myself?

“Uh, yes. Yeah. Thank you.” I stumble over my words, eyes scanning the crowd as I pull at my sleeve. I'm absolutely shit at public speaking, on top of barely being able to form a solid sentence in the first place. Brilliant. “I--uh--hi. Hello. I'm Simon. 26, just moved from London. I-I was a social worker for kids in the system, helping them get proper care and whatnot. I took this job to save up a bit, though. Social work isn't really lucrative, and I have bills.” I try laughing, but it comes out more as a nervous chuckle. “Besides that, I-I'm always up for a chat. I quite like football, I suppose. So yeah. That's… that's pretty much it.”

My hands rest on my thighs, back hunching in the slightest as the Dean looks over, nodding and finally letting me go back to eat without all the eyes in the room on me. Except, when I do sit, the woman with cat-eye glasses is staring at me again.

Slowly, I open my mouth, trying to formulate a response. She cuts in before I can.

“You don't have to move, you're fine here.” Oh well, that's lovely information.

“Thanks,” I exhale, squinting at her ID. “Penelope, is it?”

“Call me Penny,” she shrugs off, picking up her napkin and wiping her face. The rings on the fingers shine slightly in the dull light, catching my eye as I count them off.

“Are you engaged?” I ask rather bluntly, eyes following her right hand. There's a rather nice ring on her finger--I can see it closer now, as she extends her hand and offers a look.

“Mmhm,” she begins. “He lives in America, though. He was studying abroad in uni. He flies out every summer to see me. This year, I flew out to surprise him in more than one way.” She admires the glint, and I can't help but study her. She's interesting. Smart. Large personality, larger hair.

“What's his name?”

“Micah.” Her hand settles back on the table. “Anyway. Enough about me. Who the hell are you, really?”

I hold back a careless snort, poking at my food. “I'm… nobody important, really.”

“That's bullshit if I've ever heard it. Where are you from? Your accent doesn't sound like London.”

Good question. “Here and there,” I shrug. It isn't exactly a lie. “I settled for secondary in London, though, and that's where I stayed through uni.”

She side eyes me, taking a few bites as I shovel in my own food. I'd be more embarrassed if it wasn't for the fact that my back is to most of the room. Still, she's looking at me the same way Agatha would at fancy dinners--like I have no table manners (because I barely do).

She lets me finish before she starts up conversation again. Given it's me, it doesn't take long for that to happen. “So, who'd they put you up with?”

“As in, my roommate?”

She nods, peering around.

“Well, uh… Mr. Pitch. I don't really know how to say his first name, but--”

“Basilton?!” She whispers hushly, eyes raising before she laughs. “Oh you poor bastard, they put you with Mr. Prick.”

“Mr. Prick…?”

She waves a hand dismissively, sipping her coffee as she holds back a grin. “That's what the students call him. Rightfully so, I'd say. He's quite the wound up loon, if you ask me.”

I can't help myself from looking around, trying to find him to get a good look. I catch him, eventually, sitting in the near back, alone at a table with earbuds in and a book in hand. He's got the signature scowl on his face. “What's… he do? What's the deal with him?”

She's rolling her eyes when I look back. “Tenured in. Did they not tell you what he does?” I shake my head. “Brilliant. Well, he's head of the English and Literature department--I teach 10th and 11th year Lit and Creative Writing--and everyone who has him says he's an absolute nightmare. It's a shock that anyone takes his Queer Lit course.”

“Queer Lit?”

She nods dramatically. “See, fun as all hell course. Wilde, Shakespeare, Nin! I'd campaigned to teach it, but he got first call on it, being the teacher for the Gender Sexuality Alliance.”

I stop, cogs turning as I stare down at the grease streaking my plate. It processes slowly, then all at once. “Is he… you know…”

She laughs again--this time, it's a big, snorty laugh. Once she calms down, she gives a final chuckle. “Are you asking if Mr. Pitch is gay?”

I give her a shrug, blinking back to reality. “I-I mean, there's nothing wrong with it! Nothing at all, I'm just… I didn't know, and--”

Her hand settles over mine. “Don't get your knickers twisted. He is. Just thought it was evident, given literally everything about him.”

I glance back again, and I swear on my year's salary that he was looking at me. “I don't like to assume,” I add back into the conversation.

“There's a difference between assumption and context clues, dear.” The bell rings, cutting her short as she sighs. “Well, fuck. I've got a group of clueless 15 year olds to yell at. I'll save you a spot at dinner.”

And with that, I think I've made my first friend (well, besides the pigeons).

It's a pain to drag through the rest of the day. Even though the classes usually wrap in the mid afternoon, my office hours are locked into staying until half an hour before dinner. Basis of this? Fuck everything, and I need to buy snacks to hide in my desk.

I spend roughly half of it staring out the window or playing solitaire on my computer, and the other half was spent reworking schedules to the stuck up kids whimsy. I wonder if part of my job description is “doormat”, and I just hadn't read it clearly enough.

When I'm finally able to lock up and go to eat, I'm feeling half starved and completely exhausted. Thank God Penny seems to like talking, because she spends the entirety of our meal wholeheartedly ranting about how much young boys are the absolute worst group to teach.

“I should've taken the job at the all girls prep,” she huffs, practically throwing down her soup spoon. “Imagine how much happier I would have been not having to ask a boy to not replace ‘rump’ with ‘asscheeks’.”

“Why didn't you take the job?”

“Same reason as everyone else--money.”

I nod solemnly, taking another mouthful of baked chicken.

She keeps going. Long enough for me to get the occasional word in, but not so little that I have to talk often. By the time everyone's starting to file out, she's finally wrapping up her story about her least favorite student so far.

Thankfully, there aren't many students out and about once we're done. They're all scuffling off to the library or any other hang out on campus.

Penny and I part ways by the dorms. As per usual, Mr. Pitch has me locked out (or is it Basilton? Is what what people actually call him?) When I step in after scraping my keys around to find the right one and actually get in, I find him sitting right by the door on the sofa, doing work. That bastard.

He looks up, lips curving distastefully as I carefully close the door behind me. And thus, I'd assume, begins our nightly routine of avoidance. I lock myself in my room, and only step out for maybe a glass of water.

Tonight, though, I suppose I have something to attempt a conversation. “So…” I begin, fiddling with my glass as I stand in the kitchen. The light's off, but the soft yellow of the living room lamp washes over us, making the room feel all toned down. “You teach English, yeah?”

He doesn't turn, still seeming to stare ahead. “Yes, Snow. Astounding conclusion.”

“I… I'd meant that Penelope told me--”

“So you're all pals with Bunce then. Good. She's been sat alone for some time now.”

It hurts a bit, coming from him. As if he's assuming we're both too much of outcasts to be friends with anyone but each other. I worry that, maybe, he's right.

I inhale slowly before continuing. “She said you teach Queer Lit, and that you run the GSA. That's…” I think for a second--a long pause--trying to find the right word.

It's a second too long in his eyes, because he whips around quickly and stares me down. “Don't bother finishing that sentence, Snow. I don't need to hear semi coherent blubbering about how brave I am. Yes, I'm gay. So kindly fuck off.”

I freeze momentarily, glass squeezed tighter in my hand as I stand bolt-still. He stares back, sighing exaggeratedly after a minute before going back to his work.

Taking the glass back, I try not to slam my bedroom door.

Does he have to be an absolute dick about everything? Jesus Christ, this is why they call him Mr. Fucking Prick. Maybe he deserves it. Maybe I'm not actually mad, and he's just ridiculously mean.

I scratch my arm absentmindedly, settling down my glass before falling face first onto my bed. My mind runs over things to do, body working up into a red flashing anger. Who's it for? I don't even know.

It's just… unfair.

Everything's unfair. I thought it'd be livable--I thought I could be optimistic.

I push myself up, then kick down onto my mattress, hitting my fists against my pillows.

Rat bloody bastard wants to be a little dick and yell at me. Fine. Fine. I'll just avoid the shit out of him. Let him be fucking alone, for all I care. He seems to do that to himself anyway.

I manage to sit myself up, chest struggling to heave a full breath in and a full breath out. In the corner of my eye, I see myself in the mirror. Hunched, reddened. Sad. I'm so fucking sad.

Fucking hell. What am I doing?

#carry on #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #snowbaz #mine #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #baz pitch #simon #baz #proximity (the collision of lonely men)#p(tcolm)#chapter update

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thepencilnerd · 6 years

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 || 𝐦.𝐲.𝐠.

coup de fou·dre- noun; derived from the French word for a strike of lightning, it describes a sudden unforeseen event, often in reference to love at first sight

➳ Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

➳ Summary: Love at first sight didn’t exist. To you, this was a fact. Living in the city of love and lights, therefore, couldn’t have been more ironic. Paris wasn’t just the destination for hopeless romantics and tourists alike, but it was also home to hundreds of hidden treasures that were nestled around ecah street corner. Fate and destiny weren’t exactly concepts that you ever believed in, but how many times does it take for a chance encounter to turn into something even the universe couldn’t explain?

➳ Genre: AU! Fluff, star-crossed encounters, barely a soulmate AU

➳ Word Count: 9.5k

a/n: a few phrases in French but they will be translated in italics, and my French is very extremely rusty so please forgive me

Waking up to the Parisian sun was one of the many things you cherished about living in the city. The open balcony window allowed an ambient breeze to blow into your studio apartment as sunlight streaked through the untied curtains.

Reluctant to part from your disheveled bed sheets and scattered comforters, you took a glimpse at your alarm clock that read 8h47. Forcing yourself to come to terms with the fact that you had to get out of bed sooner or later, you threw your legs over the edge of the bed and hauled yourself up.

It was a lazy Saturday in your quiet apartment, but the impending doom of going back to work on Monday motivated you to enjoy as much of your weekend as possible. When you applied for your university’s Study Abroad for a Summer program, you never imagined that you’d end up transferring to and graduating from Sorbonne, let alone living in Paris to this day. California never really had anything for you to begin with, and you’d lost contact with your parents after you moved out at 18.

From infancy into adolescence, your family began falling apart at the seams. Your mom was barely home, and instead found more pleasure in placing bets and melting the plastic off of her credit card at casino resorts, while your dad couldn’t deal with the stress he got from watching her ruin their entire bank account. He didn’t care much about her livelihood, but when money was thrown into the equation, he went manic.

Being on the dean’s list actually paid off in helping you form close relationships with your counselors and teachers; ones that your parents could never give you. As they had grown well aware of your situation at home, they made sure to take your work ethic and mediocre grades into account when you handed them your transfer application forms. Putting in a good word for you, they helped you realize that family wasn’t confined to blood relations, but rather the extensive bonds that you formed with those around you.

When the opportunity to move out presented itself on a silver platter, you took it without a single ounce of hesitation. Life was hell with or without your family, so why not just get away from it all together?

It was no secret that France was a timeless country. While cities around the world began to construct office buildings and fall into the trend of modern sky-high architecture, France itself was a living and breathing historical artifact. Most buildings had been left untouched and undemolished since the Renaissance era, and they were constantly being maintained and restored like fine artwork.

Passing through each and every street, there wasn’t a single spot exempt from being anything but breathtaking. Even the street art was a sight to see. One of your favorite “touristy” spots was the Parc du Champ de Mars. The first few weeks into spring was when the flora in the park was at its peak. Nestled just behind the Eiffel Tower, the long field was a hotspot for tourists, families, friends, and couples all the like. Throughout the entire week, the park was full of vibrant and lively energy as people gathered to celebrate in the lush green grass.

The Eiffel Tower was unquestionably your favorite place. Nestled in the 7th arrondissement, or sector of Paris, the Tour Eiffel was an icon in and of itself. Known as a culturally recognizable historic monument around the world, it wasn’t just all talk. Although the climb up the tower was grueling and enough to meet your monthly exercise requirements, the view from the highest observation deck was unrivaled.

From the top, you could feel the clean air coursing through your lungs as you took in the view. The Arc de Triomphe was at the heart of the city, with the arch being the center median for twelve streets that ran through it. On the rare occasion in that you’d take the lift up to the deck at night, the whole city came to life as lights that beamed from lampposts, streetlights, and cars illuminated the entire heart of Paris. To describe the sight in words was impossible, and it made you feel like a tourist in your own city.

Every morning before you left the house, especially on days that you didn’t feel like doing anything, you prayed silently and reminded yourself to be grateful for the opportunity to live in a country that some would sell their left kidney just to visit. Thankful for waking up to breathe another day in this reverie of a city, you trudged to the bathroom and washed up.

Once you had settled into the city and stabilized living like a somewhat put-together adult, you had made it your goal to explore as much of the city as possible through any means possible. Most of the time, however, it involved stopping by at the most tourist clustered destinations. Although there were hundreds, if not thousands, of hidden treasures like restaurants and rustic flea markets, you found much more joy in hopping on the metro and letting it fate decide where it took you.

Wrapping a scarf around your neck, a necessity when the spring air was still in its early beginnings, you gathered your remaining things into your bag and hurried out the door into the awaiting city outside.

Weekends typically started off late, as you had formed a habit of sleeping in on Saturdays and crashing early to wake up early on Sunday, but your morning routine always consisted of some kind of coffee to jump-start the day. Your cozy apartment building nestled in the 7th arrondissement of Paris was not only home to the Tour Eiffel but was also a hotspot for trendy cafés and restaurants all-the-like. On almost every street corner and turn of the road, a bistro or eatery occupied the lot, and outdoor seating made them all the more inviting. With a warm and homey atmosphere, even admiring the happy customers was a delightful experience.

About a block or two from your flat building was one such café– Maison de Raphaël. You had heard stories of the original owner, Raphaël Beaumont, had fallen in love and met his wife at a café and was inspired to start his own business with her; a sign of their new journey as lovers and partners until their passing. The business was then inherited by his children and his children’s children to carry on, a constant reminder of how cooperation, understanding, patience, and hard work had the ability to build something magical.

The familiar ring of the chimes on the door was like music to your ears as the scent of freshly ground coffee and steaming hot baked goods rushed to flood your senses. Not to mention the bustling customers, golden colored hanging lights, and rustic feel that made the place feel like a second home.

Distracted by the hectic atmosphere, you tripped on your footing as you bumped into a random person. “Sorry!” Ducking your head and murmuring a quick apology, you immediately that your English slipped out accidentally. Before you could get a chance to rephrase your sentence, you found yourself at the front of the counter in the presence of your best friend.

“Y/N!” Amélie shouted, reaching over the counter to envelop you a bear hug. “Quoi de neuf? / What’s up?”

You couldn’t help but smile in return at her constantly vibrant and bright personality. “Rien de nouveau / Nothing new,” you shrugged.

“Mademoiselle?” another voice rung from the kitchen. A nickname you had earned your first visit to the café as the “lost American,” you craned your neck to the buzzing kitchen, quickly waving to Amélie’s uncle, Pierre, as he gave you a toothy grin before resuming his cooking.

“Still learning English?” you asked intuitively.

Clearing her throat meekly, she stood with her chest puffed out and chin held high as she began speaking in English with a faint accent. “The weather is quite nice today, wouldn’t you say?”

“Very nice,” you complimented her choice of sentence topic. “Je parle pas francais, désolé / I don’t speak French, sorry.” Holding your hands up jokingly, she giggled kindly at your submission to the French language.

In the years that you had lived in France, you were still in middle school level and more than uneasy with verb conjugations. You were also eternally grateful that your job didn’t require that much face-to-face conversation, as everything in this age was done digitally, therefore, virtually.

“Come on,” she scoffed. “You’re fluent enough.” Scrunching your nose at her unbearably kind nature, her French accent still laced her words as she spoke English, but it was one of those things that non-French speakers swooned over.

“Whoever invented verb conjugation is the devil,” you groaned. “Can I have—”

“One café au lait coming right up,” she hummed, knowing your order by heart. Zipping around the tiny back bar like a dancing fairy, her quick hands crafted an award-worthy latte within minutes. Signaling you to find a spot on the swivel stools that lined the window, you maneuvered through the crowded groups of people waiting in line and met her halfway. “L'heure du déjeuner! / Lunch hour/break!” she shouted, her voice ringing through the back kitchen.

Sitting comfortably on the vintage seats, the sunlight hit your skin softly as light from outside peeked through the glass. A tray with two large cups was placed on the table as the scent of fresh coffee and steamed milk immediately found its way to your waiting nose and eager mouth. However, you always took the time to admire the steamed foam artwork that Amélie meticulously painted. Every day was a different masterpiece; some days were tulips and vines, while other days were cats and feathers. Today, it was a perfectly swirled and classic rosetta.

Plopping herself down on the stool and raising it to meet your taller stature, you giggled lightly as you lowered yours, helping her in her efforts. Patting her frizzy curls down, she swept the bangs from her eyes and gave you a sheepish grin.

You had met Amélie almost as soon as you had moved to France all those years ago. A quiet and bashful girl, your coffee addiction was fed by none other than the great-granddaughter of Raphaël Beaumont himself. In a flurry of terrible French and broken English, the two of you quickly bonded after your first turmoil of an encounter, sharing common interests in the world of fashion and cultures from your respective birthplaces. While she helped you pick up French, you began to teach her English and fuel her dream to move to New York to start her own clothing line; a dream she had apparently had since preschool.

“Don’t tell me,” you hummed, quirking your lips into a smirk and knitting your eyebrows as you gestured to her vibrant red top. “New fabrics from the flea market?”

Nodding proudly, she smoothed out the lace overlay that decorated the bodice and patted it appreciatively. “I couldn’t help myself. As soon as I saw them laid out, I had to make a new blouse.”

“Prototypes are supposed to be a rough outline, not perfect products. If your mother were working a shift today, she might snatch it right off of you.” Tracing your fingers over the delicate blossoms and her impeccable handiwork with stitches, her talent never ceased to amaze you. “What am I going to do without your coffee when you leave?”

“You’ll have your boyfriend to keep you company of course,” she retorted, flipping her hair back in an exaggerated manner. “But I won’t be going for a while, so don’t get your—how do you say it again? Panties in a twist?”

“Oh my god, please never say that ever again,” you gawked, trying not to blush out of embarrassment. “Where did you even learn that?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, she raised her cup and took an indulgent sip. You also couldn’t wait any longer and snapped a picture before reluctantly ruining the beautiful artwork. Sighing in relief at the bitter taste that coated your tongue, nothing at that moment felt better than this.

“Anything on la carte / the menu for you today, mademoiselle?” she asked thoughtfully, the nickname that her mother gave on your first visit to the café sticking like tree sap and rosin.

Swirling the already half empty cup, you furrowed your eyebrows. “I might take the metro to the Notre-Dame. Maybe make a wish at Point Zéro and pray for a good workload this month?”

She facepalmed and rolled her eyes at your dull response. “Mon dieu / oh my god, live your life a little. If I had today off, I’d go with you to wish for your boyfriend to come along already.”

The legends of Point Zéro had been spread few and far between standing there with a loved one or paying pilgrimage to the journey in the city, but mostly revolved around the tale that if you stood on the brass plate in front of the cathedral and made a wish, it would come true.

“Come on,” you snorted. “You know I don’t believe in any of that ‘coup de foudre’ stuff.”

The term which literally meant “lightning strike” was an expression often used to describe a fated or unexpected occurrence such as love at first sight. Both of which you didn’t exactly believe in.

“It’s not ‘stuff,’” she mocked your tone. “C’est vrai! / It’s true! You live in the city of love, for goodness sake. Stop killing yourself with your job and enjoy life.”

Swallowing the last of your cold coffee, you propped up your elbow and rested your chin on your hand, studying the small potted plant that was placed on the wood table. “Love is stupid,” you huffed under your breath. “Everyone’s just desperate for a partner who’ll give them everything and not ask for anything in return. What kind of love is that?”

“The stupid kind,” she jeered, flicking your forehead with her index finger to snap you out of your negative thoughts. “There’s someone out there for you. It’s just a matter of having to wait for the right time to roll around.”

After chatting about the upcoming spring fashion walks in New York and getting scolded by her uncle, you agreed to visit her after her shift so you could hang out at your place for the weekend. Bidding Amélie and her family goodbye, you returned to the bustling streets that awaited you.

Despite the sometimes overhyped atmosphere of Paris, it was a sin to deny the fact that the city was a glimmering gem. Aboard the ferry that passed across the River Seine, you were currently en route to the Cathédral Notre-Dame. Resting your elbow on the metal rail, the cool breeze glided across your face, making your sigh in contempt. Weekends were truly the best.

The usually crowded boat was relatively empty today, especially considering it was a weekend. Although there were a few families and tourist groups here and there, the entirety of the boat was overall calm. Drifting off into the vast scenery of antique architecture and busy streets, you noticed that you were just coming up to Pont Alexandre III, a monument bridge that connected the Les Invalides buildings with the Champs-Élysées. Adorned with bronze statues of nymphs and gilded phemes, they stood to represent the arts, agriculture, commerce, and war; the concrete foundation and rich values on which the country was built on. It never failed to make you feel honored to live here.

Pulling your phone out to snap a picture (as per your routine ritual whenever you passed by the bridge), you noticed a white beanie stand out in the photo and in the crowd. Although the weather could be considered chilly enough for extra outerwear, you noticed that out of the people that you had walked past in the last hour or two, this person was the first to don a fuzzy knit cap. Grinning to yourself, you ignored the silly thought as the ferry came to its stop.

The cathedral was busy as always. With the line of entry starting from the inside trailing all the way to the middle of the sidewalk, you were lucky if you could waddle through the crowds. Trying to navigate through the swarm of people, you found yourself a relatively empty spot around the brass plate that officially marked the exact center of the city. Throughout the years, the words and engraved patterns on the plate had worn off, but the central 8-pointed star was still mildly visible.

Standing beside the plate that was centered perfectly with the front of the cathedral, you admired every little detail that your eyes could drink in; the rose windows that were arranged in concentric circles, the stone statues of biblical figures, and the timeless gothic architecture that formed the entirety of the epochal construction.

You didn’t plan on lighting a candle inside today, and the number of people that were pouring outside proved your point. Maybe next week? Staring down at the timeworn brass plate, you shoved your hands inside your pockets and closed your eyes to make a wish.

“Live your life a little. There’s someone out there for you. It’s just a matter of having to wait for the right time to roll around,” Amélie’s words echoed loud and clear in your head.

Huffing out in slight frustration, you pressed your eyes shut and wished for the one thing you had worked so hard for all your life.

I just want to be happy.

Silently praying and repeating the mantra to yourself for a few seconds, you were snapped out of your daze by a kid running headfirst into your thigh and toppling over like a Jenga tower. Gasping in shock, you immediately crouched down to help the little boy up and brush off the dirt from his plaid sweater.

“Désolé! / Sorry!” you cringed, tensing your face into an expression that screamed guilt. “Est-ce que ça va? / Are you okay?”

The seemingly unaffected boy simply nodded, making you find it odd that he wasn’t crying or wailing. Instead, he chortled as if nothing were wrong in the world. “Est-ce que ça va, mademoiselle? / Are you alright, miss?”

Smiling endearingly at his mannerism with a hint of worry knit in your brows, you gently brushed over his wavy tresses and double-checked to make sure he hadn’t scraped anything.

Pressing up onto his tippy toes to raise himself to your height, the boy whispered in your ear. “On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux. / It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eyes.” Before you got a chance to reply, he skipped off and disappeared into the crowd.

You stood frozen as you tried to think about the words a random child had just re-iterated to you. You had no problem recognizing the quote from your favorite book of all time; Le Petit Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. Trying to think of all the possible reasons why a stranger, let alone a child, would reference that particular quote out of nowhere, you ignored it and settled on the fact that maybe he had been reading too many fantasy books for his own good. Even though the boy had run off somewhere, worry overcame you as you realized you hadn’t even asked him if he was lost.

Squinting your eyes as you scanned the herd of people to see if you could spot him, you were able to make out his tiny plaid sweater amongst the generally darkly clothed adults. He was standing in the entrance line with an older woman you assumed was his mother. The boy turned to the man behind him and tugged on the edge of his beige coat, pointing his finger to somewhere in the crowd. Your eyes began trailing up the tall figure whose back was turned towards you, but you recognized the white beanie from earlier like a red wine stain on linen.

He must have gotten off at the same stop as me.

Unable to see his face from your angle, the man crouched down and ruffled the boy’s hair as a toothy grin appeared on the child’s face. Lightly chuckling to yourself, you quickly snapped a picture, reminding yourself to tell Amélie all about it when you went to visit her later. Checking your watch, the hands read 12:57 and meant that lunch was just around the corner. Glancing at the eroded star once more, you turned to the spot that the boy was standing, only to find that he and his mother were already walking inside, and the man from earlier was now nowhere to be seen.

As with most major city, restaurants in urban districts could be found scattered around every block like street signs. After walking across the Pont Notre-Dame to find the nearest bistro, you stumbled upon a crêperie just short of the Tour Saint-Jacques; another landmark that was the only remaining structure of a 16th-century church that was destroyed during the revolution.

Entering the small and cozy eatery, you were greeted by the friendly hostess behind the bar, currently occupied with wiping down the glasses and silverware. Sitting down by the window booth, she brought you a menu and a glass of water to start. Ordering their special, strawberry creme crêpes with a café au lait, you sat patiently as your stomach began to growl from the long walk. Years in the city and you still hadn’t gotten used to the daily on-foot commute.

Gazing outside the window, you always found yourself magnetized by the most insignificant details about this city. Sometimes, you even found yourself staring at the cracks of old brick walls until a person tapped you on the shoulder asking you if you were alright. If that wasn’t embarrassing enough, you were the type of person who found joy in strolling around flea markets for hours without boredom.

After a few minutes, a plate of freshly flipped crêpes made its way to your table, the thinly sliced strawberries and fluffy whipped cream seeping at the edges practically begging to be devoured. Bordering the edge of drooling, you cut a bite-sized portion but couldn’t bring yourself to eat at a normal pace for the fear that it would all be gone too soon. This might be your new favorite place, which didn’t bode well for your old faithful crêperie two blocks down from your apartment.

Taking time to savor the light and airy texture of the filling, you paced yourself in between bites and sips, reminding yourself to eat as slow as you could to make the experience all the more worthwhile. Once you downed your last mouthful and a final sip of coffee, you handed the waitress the check as she returned to go get your receipt.

Drawn to the light outside the once more, you saw that the sun was still shining bright, remembering that it was still early spring and the sunset didn’t come until around dinnertime. Shifting your gaze to the crowded patio seats, you couldn’t help but draw your attention to a couple sat in a pair beside the rose bushes that lined the seating area.

They appeared to be in their late thirties and were bantering back and forth while eating, letting a few giggles slip here and there. It’s not that dating or commitment scared you, but it was the idea of giving yourself completely into a relationship and not knowing if the other person might leave you at any moment that seemed—vulnerable. You despised nothing more than being blinded by love, and half of the time, the romance that books and movies talked about wasn’t even real love; it was just lust. Libido-driven physical one-sided lust. Still, you couldn’t help the wishful gaze that began to form.

Would you ever find a love that was even half as passionate as what they had?

Receiving the receipt from the waitress, you quickly thanked her and slung your bag over your shoulder as you got ready to leave. However, before you stood up, a familiar figure was sat two booths down from you. The same back-turned position, white beanie, beige coat, and this time, you could make out the edge of an ivory-colored scarf that was wrapped around his neck. Blinking to make sure that your contacts weren’t just drying up, you shrugged it off as the first coincidence of the day.

You paced yourself out the door and convinced yourself that it was just that; a coincidence.

Venturing down to the 1st arrondissement in a spontaneous act of curiosity, you were drawn to the petite floral shop that was a few blocks from the bus stop. Marveling at the newly made arrangements and bundles of in-season vines that lined the floors and shelves, the kind elderly lady of the store instantly sparked a friendly conversation with you about the meanings of different flowers.

As the conversation carried on with her effortless French and you struggling to decipher her quick tempo, you understood the gist of her speech but still blanked on a couple verbs and idioms here and there. Roses were tokens of love and devotion, calla lilies symbolized beauty and purity, and lilacs represented innocence and confidence. Nodding your head to make sure that you didn’t show how clueless you were in between her complicated sentences, she gave you a heartwarming smile before clasping her hands over her mouth with a gasp, scrambling to reach for something under her workspace.

Ducking down her counter and shuffling through floral wires, foam, and a few cardholders, she found a small cylindrical glass vial necklace and handed it to you tenderly. Looking at it up close, you saw that it was a burgundy rosebud encapsulated in a clear resin of some sort.

"Pour votre aimé / For your loved one." Clasping her hands around yours, she gave you a firm look of sincerity, bordering on the verge of urgency

"Non, s'il te plaît, / No, please," you urged, trying to hand it back to her but receiving a pouted lip and a wagging finger in return. Shaking your hands embarrassingly, you denied her conclusion as quickly as the words had left her mouth. “Je n'ai pas d'amant. / I don’t have a lover.”

“Pas encore, mais bientôt, / Not yet, but soon,” she emphasized her words, laughing at your blank and confused face before waving her hands and telling you to get home early.

When you tried to hand her a few euros in exchange, she nearly bit your head off and ushered you to take off and come back again. Sighing in defeat and surrendering to her persistent nature, you thanked her once more before leaving the shop with a jingle of the windchimes sounding behind you.

Pausing to open your clutched hand and inspected the perfectly preserved bud, completely in awe at how intact and still life-like it was. Frowning slightly, you wondered why she had suddenly been struck with the idea of giving a rather pricey looking necklace to a random customer; mind you, you hadn’t paid for it either.

Feeling guilty for not at least buying a small bouquet or desk succulent, you bit your lip and debated whether you had time to go back inside and buy something before the next bus came. Scanning over the buckets that bordered the outside of the shop, you tried to see if there were any small buds you could bundle together yourself or a small cactus you could quickly buy, but it was a fruitless effort, as most of the displays and pre-made potted plants were too large for you to carry home.

Exhaling in slight annoyance you decided that it was better to come back tomorrow and catch the bus, but not before taking a quick snapshot of the colorful row of blooming petals. Examining the picture you had just taken on your phone, your eyes widened at an all too recognizable figure at the edge of the picture. Wearing that same white beanie, ivory scarf, beige coat, black jeans, and with his back still turned to you, the same man from earlier today was currently standing over the array of flowers.

Looking up, he was still facing away from you in a way that you couldn’t make out his appearance, but you could clearly hear the shutter of a camera going off as he gazed at the freshly blossomed roses. Pondering over the possibility that this was just another coincidence, you reminded yourself that you would just come back tomorrow and buy a full-size arrangement instead.

Returning back to the direction of the bus stop, you almost screamed when you read the time. Nearing dinner time, you dashed down the street as if your life depended on it and tried to catch the last bus home.

The good news was that you ran faster than you had in your entire life and could probably skip cardio for the next few months. The bad news was that you missed your bus and were out of breath, freezing, and hungry.

Your watch read 4:40, making you groan as reality struck. Internally facepalming yourself and saying a prayer to your bank account, you swallowed your pride and told yourself that this was a foreboding from the high heavens as motivation to work harder. A white lie never every once in a while never hurt anyone, right?

Stumbling across a somewhat affordable diner combined brasserie, the enticing smell of roast beef and freshly baked dinner rolls wafted you inside. Since it was a peak hour for early diners, you were lucky to find yourself a spot in the back patio seating. Eyeing the rather empty area oddly, it clicked when you pieced together how full the front and indoor seating area was. Following the waiter to your table, you sighed in relief when your legs came in contact with the leather cushions. With tired legs finally being able to leisure and be limp on the ground, your tired out-of-shape muscles bid you a wordless thank you.

Gulping down the jug of water the kind server had brought you, he chuckled before giving you a break to catch your breath, clearly noticing your exhaustion as you struggled to form proper sentences. If your day to day French was awful, imagine what it sounded like when you were fatigued beyond words.

Deciding on a bowl of bœuf bourguignon with pommes frites / beef stew with fried potatoes, the waiter jotted down your order and excused himself. Closing your eyes and trying to control your growing hunger, you almost fainted when you rolled your head back and turned to two seats down to your right.

“Beanie boy?!” you shrieked, widening your eyes and cupping your hand over your mouth when you realized how loud you had just shouted. The same boy from earlier jolted from his seat, dropping his pasta entwined fork and yelping as well. Coughing to clear his throat from his near-choking experience, you couldn’t believe your eyes. How did he get here?

“Pardon?” he choked, grabbing his napkin to wipe his mouth. Noticing his choice of English, you raised your finger shakily and pointed to him as if he were a zombie that had risen from the dead. “You speak English?” you asked with your jaw agape. He simply blinked and nodded.

Right before you could continue, the waiter walked into the seating area and looked at both of you with bulging eyes before hastily setting your food down on your table and scurrying off.

“Have you—do you—have you been following me?” you mumbled. Your mouth was still agape in shock, periodically opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Cocking his head and furrowing his eyebrow softly, his lower lip jutted in a pout and he shook his head. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Jaw dropping entirely, you blinked harshly and checked once more if your contacts were dried out, but gulped anxiously when he was still in front of you. “No. No, I’m not, I just—how?”

“May I sit?” he peeped politely, his extroverted statement contrasting with his outwardly introverted appearance. Nodding unconsciously for the fear that you’d be an awful person if you denied someone eating dinner alone a companion, he got up and shuffled through the chairs and sat down in front of you.

The dim light now illuminated his features, making his face thoroughly visible. Under his knit cap was coarse dark brown hair that framed his round yet angular face. His soft eyebrows drew attention to his brown eyes, while his lips seemed to be formed a perpetual pout.

“I guess this is all just one big coincidence, right?” you forced out an awkward laugh in order to diffuse some of the tension and pry your staring eyes off of him. Maybe it was all in your own head.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, it looked as if he were holding back a laugh. Barely narrowing your eyes to try and analyze his micro expressions, he resumed speaking.

“If you want to call it that,” he chuckled lightly, his voice now emphasized crystal clear. “I’ve had a pretty weird day today.”

Feeling yourself relax at his ability to make casual talk with a stranger like yourself, you felt a grin tug at the edges of your mouth. “I’ll raise you on that bet.”

Eyebrow lifting at your challenge, you raised your eyebrows at him tauntingly, a sudden surge of confidence rushing over you that you had never felt before. He eyed you wearily before raising his fork to his mouth and poking his chin with it, his aim inadvertently ruined by your locked stare. You coughed to hide a snort.

“So what brings you to the 1st arrondissement on this fine Saturday night?” he asked speculatively, deep-set eyes never leaving yours as you replied.

Chewing slowly to think of an answer, you shrugged shyly and gave him your honest answer. “Just another boring Saturday, I guess...” He nodded understandingly, seeming to accept your plain response. “What about you?”

It was his turn to shrug. “I didn’t feel like sitting around in my living room again was the most productive way to spend the weekend, so I thought it’d be a good idea to work on my portfolio.”

Holding your spoon as it came halfway to your mouth, you set it back down and grew interested in his occupation. “Photography major?”

“Photographer, actually,” he smirked playfully, emphasizing the last syllable ever so slightly. “But I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who got mistaken as a student.”

“You thought I was a post-grad?” you scoffed, amazed and flattered that you could still pass off as a woman in her very early twenties.

He grinned widely at your surprise, showing off a gummy smile that made your stomach feel weird. Did they cook the meat all the way through? you thought.

“I guess we have more than one thing in common,” he remarked, winding another mouthful of pasta around his fork neatly before engulfing it like a child.

“You mean ferry rides and flower shops?” you joked.

“Don’t forget cathedrals and cafés,” he reminded, shooting you a cheeky wink.

Shaking your head at his bold nature, the two of you broke into giggles, unable to hold back the recollection of strange concurrences that had occurred in the single day alone. The waiter stopped by the table to refill the water jug, making you both shift in your seats and try to tone your laughter down. Whispering something in the waiter’s ear, he shuffled his hand under the tablecloth, but you assumed your eyes were just deceiving you again.

“So you’re a photographer, are you?”

Quirking the edge of his lip and a brow into a pondering expression, he couldn’t give you a definitive answer. “It depends—am I still a professional if I don’t think my work is particularly that good?”

“Touché,” you hummed. “May I be the judge of that?”

His eyes ducked down timidly, indicating that he was genuinely unconfident in his work. “How about we make a deal of some sort?” he offered.

Jutting your chin down and pressing him to continue, he smiled coyly. “Let me spend the evening with you as reimbursement for dinner, and I’ll show you my portfolio.”

“Is that a euphemism for something I don’t want to know?” your mind urged you to ask apprehensively, noting the kind tone that laced his voice.

“No, I promise,” he raised his hands in defense.

“What do you mean ‘reimbursement for dinner?’” you air-quoted, still not sure of what his intention was.

“Considering I already slipped the waiter my card,” he whipped out a piece of paper from his back pocket. “—and I’ve already signed the receipt, I’d say that this boring Saturday just turned into a spur of the moment hang out between new acquaintances.”

Suppressing a scoff at his daring personality that emitted sheer confidence and shamelessness, you caved in and agreed. This was considered a “blind date,” right?

Continuing our discussion and jumping randomly from topic to topic, the flow of the conversation never stopped, continuing along effortlessly as hours seemed to pass by like seconds. The playful banter was exchanged with teasing comments and jokes, making the rumbling of passing streetcars become drowned out by the combination of your hearty laughter; a sound that you had unintentionally begun to memorize note by note in your mind.

Before you knew it, the sun had already begun to set and was falling fast. A mutual look of understanding crossed your faces when you checked your watch again, the dreaded hands that you had grown to dislike throughout the day clearly reading 8:05.

“I live in the 7th arrondissement. Is it alright I walk you home?” he asked softly, a tone of reluctance lacing his quiet voice.

Blinking your eyes rapidly and coming back to your senses, you nodded, wondering for a split second how he knew which district you lived in, but remembered that he boarded the same ferry as you this morning. Telling yourself that nothing lasted forever and that the night had to come to an end eventually, the two of you rose from your seats and slowly dragged your feet to the exit.

The view from the Pont Alexander III bridge was beautiful during the daytime, but the lampposts that illuminated the pathway at night was an entirely different experience. The ornate and extravagant bridge that you had seen glimmering during the daytime was now toned down, making the statues appear to be asleep.

Considered the golden hour by many, you understood why the lavish name had been given to the spot at this time. The line of the sunset followed the arch of the bridge, skimming it lightly as the sun itself disappeared beneath the skyline. The pastel blue, warm orange, and vibrant red-yellow gradient skies were accentuated by the very golden street lamps, making it the perfect destination to stop by before the end the evening.

“Do I get to see those pictures yet or was this all just a grand scheme to spend the evening with me?” you remarked coyly, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back a grin when you saw a light blush fan across his cheeks. Darting his tongue out to wet his lower lip, he still seemed a bit nervous.

“I promise you that my pictures are worse,” you assured. “You looked pretty professional around the roses though, so I wouldn’t really worry.”

Face surrendering into his grin, he pulled out his camera from his satchel and stood beside you, both of you resting your elbows behind you on the rail of the bridge. Handing him your phone and exchanging it with his camera, you each began scrolling through the gallery pictures. You were absolutely spellbound.

He had managed to capture each setting of the landmarks in Paris perfectly. From the Louvre to the Museé d’Orsay and the Arc de Triomphe all the way up to the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower, his shots were somehow able to encapture the pure essence and splendor of the city.

“These are—” you gaped. “I don’t—”

“They’re pretty mediocre,” he admitted guiltily as his hand began rubbing the back of his neck instinctively.

“No!” you defended. “They’re just—wow. They’re amazing...”

“Thanks,” he blushed at your compliment. “Your pictures are pretty good, too.”

Rolling your eyes at his makeshift compliment, you accepted it nonetheless. “They’re mediocre,” you mimicked.

He ruffled your hair jocularly, taking your mind back to when you saw him at the cathedral. “Did I mention that I make a great model?”

Your head tilted in confusion at his query but your eyes widened when it dawned on you; he had seen the pictures you’d taken of him. Showing you your phone, he began swiping across the screen, exposing the few pictures that you had snapped of him covertly.

“Oh—” you stuttered. “Those were just—I thought it—I thought it would be a funny story to tell my friend. My best friend. She loves movie-plot stuff like this. Coincidental situations, accidental encounters, you know. Stuff like that?”

Hoping he would understand and look past your rambling mess of words, he burst into a fit of laughter as he showed off his gummy smile again; one you had already begun to grow fond of a little too quickly for your liking.

“Keep scrolling,” he giggled, pointing to his camera in your hand. Following his directions, your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as they caught images of the places you had visited earlier today—with you as the central subject of the pictures.

The first was of the ferry ride; you were holding your chin up from your elbow on the rail and gazing across the river with a serene and tranquil expression. The second was of you standing on point zero; your eyes were shut tight and concentrated firmly on the brass plate, making you remember your wish that you had prayed for. The third was of you at the crêperie; your mind flashed back to the moment when you were staring out the window at the lovely couple. In the captured photo, your wistful gaze conveyed the definition loneliness.

The fourth one at the flower shop was the one that stood out from the rest.

In the other ones, you seemed like you were lost in the haze of your mind and constantly living out of the moment; whether it was thinking about your past or the future, this one was one of pure joy as you were gazing at the beautiful colors and delicate scents of the flora. A repressed grin slipped past your lips, turning into a full-blown expression of awe.

“Do you mind if I take another one?” he asked delicately, rubbing the back of his neck again, a habit you deciphered as one that stemmed from nervousness. Nodding your head as warmth flushed your cheeks, you handed him the camera and panicked, unable to think of a pose.

“Just relax and smile,” he encouraged, giving you a heartfelt grin as he adjusted the lens.

Narrowing your eyes at the ground for a brief second, you retreated to your accustomed position of propping your elbow up and resting your chin on your hand. You looked out across the rippling river and now dark sky as the once bright colors had grown dusky and dim. The shutter clicked once, making you turn to him and click again.

“Aimer, ce n'est pas se regarder l'un l'autre, c'est regarder ensemble dans la même direction. / Love doesn’t consist of gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction.” He spoke in a near whisper to himself as he repeated another quote from Saint-Exupéry, making it the second one today.

Taken aback by his words, you struggled to find words yourself. “Did a boy—a little boy tell you that, by any chance?”

He looked up from his camera display and at you with widened eyes. “I told you today was a weird day,” he stared at you in disbelief. Feeling at ease around his amusing reaction, you shook your head and let out a nasal snort, staring thoughtfully at the river.

"I’m guessing you’re an Exupéry fan too?” you added. Fiddling with his hands, he simply nodded, the edges of his lips curling into a carefree grin.

“Le Petit Prince is a classic tragedy,” he sighed. “I cried for days when my mom explained the ending to me.”

Patting his back and comforting his pouty face, you accidentally let out a giggle. “I thought I was the only one.”

Standing beside each other and glancing at the rippling waves below, you found your eyes drift to a couple on the street that bordered the bridge. Oddly enough, they seemed to mirror the pair of you with their similar taste of clothing and friendly bond.

“Do you think the rose was selfish?” you wondered aloud, not expecting a response from him. It had been an odd question that plagued your very existence ever since you had read the book as a child.

“No,” he replied without an ounce of hesitation. “They were so blinded by love, they didn’t understand what it even meant. Would you still call that love?” he pondered, his voice coming out just shy of a whisper.

Your head shifted to him, studying his features as he continued to look across the water. Changing his position to mirror you, his lips relaxed before forming a sympathetic smile.

“Love is easy to find if you look hard enough, especially in a big city like this— but it’s the good kind; the wholehearted, selfless, and genuine devotion that makes everything worthwhile. That’s the one that’s almost impossible to find.”

Feeling his eyes pierce through you, you shyly averted your gaze away and returned to the view of the sky, which was now completely enveloped in darkness as the day was finally at its end.

“That kind of love isn’t something you find; it’s something that comes to you,” he iterated softly, his captivated eyes never leaving you. “But I couldn’t agree more.”

“On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur, / It is only with the heart that one can see rightly,” you started, curious to see if he were as passionate and borderline obsessed with the children’s fable as you were.

“L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux, / What is essential is invisible to the eyes,” he continued, completing the second half of the quote.

Diverting your attention back to the streets below, you swore you felt your heart hiccup.

Within the few hours that you had spent together, you felt as if you’d known each other all your life. There was some kind of connection, a bond, that neither of you could explain. Whether it was your mutual inarticulate French speaking skills or the fact that you had delved deep into the past circumstances that resulted in moving to Paris, time didn’t seem to exist when he spoke to you. To say that you felt comfortable around him was an understatement; you felt like you were home.

Thankfully, Maison de Raphaël was just around the corner from the bridge. You didn’t notice how much time had passed until you checked the time again; it was already 9:30, meaning Amélie would be off work soon.

“I guess this is my stop,” you exhaled, trying not to show your discomfort from all the walking you had done today. Even though the sky was now a deep navy blue, flecks of light constellations began to peek through the dim clouds.

“Time flew by too quickly,” he noted, his hands instinctively returning to stroke the nape of his neck.

Puffing your cheeks to stifle a cheesy grin, you could only nod curtly in agreement. “Way too quickly.”

A few awkward seconds passed before each of you found the courage to speak.

“I—” he started.

“Do you—” you tried to ask.

Cutting off each other’s words, he gestured kindly for you to start first. “You should get home,” you insisted, feeling the guilt grow inside you the longer you kept him here.

He blinked a couple times, opening then closing his mouth as he tried to form a response.

Why oh why of all the things to say did you have to say that stupid sentence, you groaned silently, mentally scolding yourself for being so brusque.

“Oh—yeah. Of course,” he replied while forcing out a cough. “Thanks for tonight.”

Laughing warmly, he couldn’t help but look at you with that same gummy smile you had already known by heart. “Will I get to see you again?” you asked, worried for a second that you might’ve sounded too hopeful.

He considered the realistic possibilities. “It’s a pretty big neighborhood, but judging from the day we’ve spent and the places we both like to visit, I would say the odds are in our favor.”

Holding his hand out, you shook it tenderly, afraid that if you let go too quickly, the universe would find a way to make sure that you’d never see him again. It’s not like you ever believed in fictional concepts like the power of the universe or romantic deities, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The air around you grew cold with melancholy, the two of you more than clearly able to feel the tension as you were forced to accept the reality of parting ways.

Not even a few seconds after walking in the opposite direction, you turned around and bid him one more but hopefully not last farewell.

“Get home safely!” you shouted through cupped hands. He hadn’t moved far from the previous spot he was standing in. Only when you were at the entrance of the café and saw his still unmoved distant figure did you understand that he waited there to make sure that you arrived at your destination safely. Peering through the glass pane, you saw him give you a final wave before his shadow faded into the night.

“So you just left?!” Amélie’s jaw dropped to the ground. “And you didn’t even get his phone number?”

“Yes!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands and slamming them down onto the counter by the cash register. “Don’t rub it in.” Somehow, you had managed to compress in your entire day’s worth of events into a five-minute rant. Breathless at the end of your makeshift speech and in a fugue state, she brought you a glass of water, still gawking at you as you chugged it in four gulps.

“Punaise... / Damn...” she whispered. “Are you alright?” Sniffling slightly, you didn’t realize that tears had begun to flood your eyes until her hands rubbed your back soothingly.

Why were you crying?

“You two must have really had something special going on,” she sighed, still stroking your shoulders tenderly.

“Don’t start with that fate and destiny crap—” you whined but were cut off by her abrupt hush.

“Do you know how starstruck both of you would have been to not even ask for each other’s names?” she dragged out the last word, craning her neck and raising her eyebrows so high they looked animated.

Tears pricked your eyes again as the lump in your throat returned. You broke into full sobs now. “I didn’t even get his name!” Tangling your hands into your hair, you wondered if all those years studying for school actually grew your practical intelligence or just made you dumber.

“Amélie!” Pierre hollered from the empty kitchen. “Un café au lait!”

“On est fermé! / We’re closed!” she groaned, rubbing her temple as she tried to think of a solution to your predicament.

“Vingt minutes! / Twenty minutes!” he barked back.

“Who in their right mind orders coffee at night...” she grumbled a few profanities. You shot her a quick smile and shooed her off to quickly finish her shift so that the two of you could go back to your place. Sleepovers were more fun as adults, especially when champagne was added to the equation.

With your head buried underneath your scarf and crossed arms, you could barely hear the muffled exclamation of Amélie’s cheer as she greeted the last customer of the night, judging by the tone of her voice to come to the conclusion that they were also a regular.

You didn’t even know his name. You didn’t even get his stupid freaking name and you were beating yourself up over how absurd the entire situation was. It’s not like you really knew each other, right? You were appalled at your own desperation. You couldn’t believe actually crying over some random guy.

It was just a fun day with some random stranger. A random stranger who you just happened to click with. A stranger who you coincidentally ran into multiple times, just as luck would have it. An unknown guy who shared the same interests as you and admired the beauty in little things.

A person who you were wholeheartedly and completely mesmerized by right down to the last bit of fluff that was stuck on his beanie.

“Love at first sight my ass—” your obscenity was interrupted by a forceful cough that belonged to none other than your best friend.

“Last time I checked, you were the ‘innocent’ one of us two?” she hummed, raising her brow in a comical manner. Rolling your eyes and wiping the edges of your eyes, your tears finally started to come to a slow. All that remained was a pink flush on your cheeks and a red nose Rudolph would be jealous of.

Noticing the plate of coffee in her hand, you eyed her skeptically and asked her what she was doing watching you cry like an infant instead of serving the last customer so you could go home to your emergency ice cream stash.

Clicking her tongue mischievously, she set the porcelain cup down in front of you. “Pour vous, / For you,” she bowed dramatically.

“What?” you hiccuped.

“Special occasion?” her lips formed into a quirky grin. Nudging her head to the design she had etched into the cup, it was a new pattern. The base was a classic rosetta, but rather than have the buds of the leaves extend and thin out at the tip, she had drawn a plump heart. It was unusual. Out of all the different designs she had drawn on hundreds of cups, you’d never seen her draw a real heart, counting the number of times she had remarked how “cheesy” and “cliché” it was.

“I didn’t order a—” you stammered.

“I guess we have more than a few things in common...” a soft-spoken voice trailed from behind you.

Feeling your breath hitch in your throat, you felt your entire body tense up in shock, too anxious to turn around. Slowly turning your chair to the source of the voice, you were met with a pair of deep brown eyes and a beaming smile.

“I forgot to ask you if you wanted to get a cup of coffee with me,” he grinned.

In a heartbeat, you found yourself throwing yourself into in his arms as they enveloped you in a tight embrace. Fitting like two pieces of a puzzle, you nestled your head into his chest as he held you close. It was the first heart fluttering hug you’d felt in years.

“I could’ve sworn I recognized the person I bumped into this morning,” he chuckled deeply.

Your eyes widened to the size of flying saucers.

“You didn’t tell me you knew Y/N, Yoongi” Amélie peeped from the counter, ogling the both of you while waggling her eyebrows impishly.

“Y/N,” he repeated slowly, your name rolling off of his tongue like honey.

“Yoongi,” you greeted with a giggle. His name felt like words you had been waiting an eternity to say.

Amélie read your facial expressions, making hers contort into one that resembled Munch’s painting of The Scream. “You have got to be kidding me,” she drawled out with her hand cupped over her mouth.

Yoongi’s hands wrapped around your waist and pressed you closer into him, sighing in content at the feeling of fulfillment that washed over both of you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he looked down at you, introducing himself formally and taking the opportunity to accentuate your name once more.

“The pleasure is all mine,” you beamed, never feeling more at home than in the arms of Yoongi in this exact present moment.

Maybe this whole coup de foudre thing wasn’t a total fairy tale after all.

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whenyouthinktaylorthinkofus · 6 years

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Hiiii, we are Luisa and Andy. We live in California, we have been friends since 2007 and this is the story about how we became friends because of @taylorswift.

We’ve lived in the same city for our whole lives, and we met in another city and another state back when we were 12 and 13 and we went to summer camp, at the beginning we weren’t friends, we didn’t talked that much and Luisa thought that I hated her hahaha. The story of us began one night during dinner; our counselors let us play music to make dinner more fun so when it was Luisa’s time to choose she picked none other than TIM MCGRAW. I got so excited cause none of my friends either back home or in camp liked Taylor so I only listened to it at home and I made my sisters listen to her until she grew on them and became fans hahaha, after that we instantly became friends and talked Taylor nonstop! Once we came back home we kept messaging each other through MSN chat, don’t know if you remember it? Luisa was going into 7th grade and I was going to 8th grade and we were going to be attending the same school and we were so excited! Luisa pretended to be Taylor Swift and Andy pretended to be Selena Gomez (EVEN BEFORE they were besties, I had an obsession with Selena and I gotta be honest that I still have hahaha). Back then not many of our friends were using Facebook, it was around 2008 probably, so we used our accounts to upload pictures of Taylor and Abigail and Selena and tag ourselves, and Luisa was the master at photoshopping her face to Taylor’s body hahahaha (we still have those pictures but are private thank god)

We followed Taylor via MySpace, oh how obsessed where we with MySpace, we could spend the whole afternoon designing it and putting a theme and looking for pictures on Photobucket, wow now I feel really old, selecting Teardrops On My Guitar as my song to be played in my profile (and being sneaky and hiding it so people could never pause it hahaha). We were there during the 27 second call drama, oh boy, our 14 year old selves lived for that drama (sorry Taylor, sorry Joe) and it was intense … we cried with Taylor and at the same time we were also obsessed with The Jonas Brothers (Luisa loved Joe and I couldn’t resist Nick’s curls hahahaha) so you could’ve imagine how torn up we were. Forever and Always broke our hearts and even at 14 years understood each lyric perfectly and made perfect sense for us.

So Fearless came out during Andy’s freshman year and Luisa was in 8th grade, we were obsessed and I remember begging my parents to buy me the CD and one day after babysitting my brother my dad took me to Best Buy and told me I had earned it and I think he regretted that idea because the whole way home and every time we were in the car I was playing this CD. We turned 15 on 2009 and OF COURSE we played and sang to each other Fifteen, we were so corny hahaha but at the moment it was our anthem, we couldn’t believe we were 15! Just like Taylor’s song, for us it was like a sign.

I still have it fresh on my memory when she announced the Fearless Tour and oh god, we were soooo excited! We were going to buy tickets and see Taylor for the first time ever! We organized it and two other friends were also coming. The tickets sold out in like 1 minute and we didn’t have the chance to buy them … that’s our sad story haha we missed Taylor that year. There was a time in our lives when we went to high school, Luisa being 1 grade below Andy they started talking less to each other but still were present in each other lives. But we met more people who liked Taylor and we kind of drifted apart for a bit, but it’s all good now hahaha don’t worry!

Then came the Speak Now era and … as you may know we were STILL CRAZY ABOUT TAYLOR. Andy had the opportunity to go to the concert because a friend of hers got tickets, Luisa had tickets to but she had to sell them a week before because her parents couldn’t take her. (We talked about this the other day like WTF why didn’t you asked for a ride with us, but at that moment we didn’t think about it, and well … now that’s in the past). She cried so much because that would’ve been Luisas’ first time seeing her live, and now as I’m writing this I feel like such a bad friend hahaha, thank you Luisa. But then the Speak Now concert DVD came out and of course we bought it and we cried happy tears because that DVD just gives you chills and sad tears because she had missed the concert. Until this day we still watch the DVD, last time we tried to play it, it was almost mission impossible because we couldn’t find a DVD player in the house hahaha.

For the rest of the eras, we still followed Taylor really close. We bought merch, tickets, CDS, magazines, anything that had Taylor’s name or face you name it and we bought it (we’re sorry mom and dad for spending all that money hahaha, it was worth it!) Red and 1989 were EPIC, still are, many heartbreaks and many adventures made us relate so so much to Taylor’s songs. Andy was in her first year of university when Red came out, and oh wow … if I could tell you about all the stories and how I related to those songs. And Luisa was a senior in high school, and well … that first love, you feel like that pain is gonna be there forever, but thank you Taylor for making it bearable, and also making us feel like we can be in love again. During Red we had the chance to buy PIT tickets! I remember getting an email of Taylor Nation or Taylor Connect about fans getting the chance to buy those tickets and I begged my parents for the tickets, and oh wow … seeing Taylor from the PIT, life changing experience. She grabbed Andy’s hand during Love Story and I swear it was like super long! (I’ve seen the video and its like 2 seconds) but I’m sure we had a connection hahaha

During the 1989 era, it was like Taylor knew how to blow our minds over and over again each CD she recorded it was even better and exceeded our expectations! Blank Space wow! Even my non swiftie friends were OBSESSED with the song! I was super proud of that cause I felt like I was taking them to the fandom side. We went to her concert in San Diego and Luisa went with a friend of hers and Andy went ... alone hahaha. Andy was studying abroad that year so when I came back my friends had plans and well I ended up going alone BUT let me tell you it was an EXPERIENCE, I’ve never been to a concert alone and wow I did feel like it was more special. I remember the surprise song was Fearless and I cried but those happy tears because I remember not being able to see her during that tour and how special that song is, and I may or may not have shed a tear writing this paragraph. We ended up seeing each other during this concert and being together during Shawn Mendes and Vance Joy’s set.

Now let’s talk about Reputation! We went to opening night in Glendale; we drove 4 hours to be there! At the beginning when we bought the tickets I wasn’t aware what opening night meant until I got there and realized I was seeing all of this BEFORE anyone else, well besides the other 59,157 people who attended (yes, I searched on Wikipedia for the exact number). She BLEW our minds like … it was BEAUTIFUL, like nothing we’ve ever experienced before! Honestly most parts of the concert are blurry because of so much excitement. We drove back next day and it was over … after months of waiting it was over so quick. But things changed next week when we decided to buy tickets to night 2 in Pasadena and again sorry mom and dad but I still think IT WAS THE BEST DECISION EVER. We enjoyed this concert SO MUCH we didn’t even had our phones out for most of the concert, we decided we were gonna enjoy it and dance like crazy! And I think the people besides us thought we were on something cause the girl switched places with her dad so she wouldn’t be next to us hahahaha, but we didn’t care because we danced and sang like it was the last night ever! We honestly don’t understand how people can be so calm and serious at concerts!

Months passed after our concerts and that’s when we decided to start our own Taylor inspired Instagram and Tumblr, we’ve followed so many and we thought it would be cool to have our own. We have met so many lovely Swifties, everyone with a different and unique story about how Taylor changed their lives and how they have met people through her (just like us!). Taylor brought to our lives a really special friendship that after 11 years we are still going strong! Right now we’re 24 and we really hope one day we can thank Taylor personally what she has done for us.

Thank you so much if you stayed and read all of this, I’m sorry we just got a bit inspired hahaha. It would be so nice and we will appreciate it if you could tag @taylorswift or @taylornation so they can see how much she has impacted our lives.

#taylor swift #taylor nation #reputation #reputation tour

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n0resistance · 4 years

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Wall St

I remember the summer of 2010 being fun and productive. We were on a hunt for an apartment , I was living at home for the summer working at a pizza place, watching sex and the city (everyday), and missing New York. We wanted specific things about the apartment. Close to school, an affordable price, and something for all of us.

We looked in Bed-stuy but it was too far from school, we couldn’t imagine commuting on a train for 30 mins. The landlord also didn’t feel good about us being so young.

Landlords give college students, especially ones who never lived on their own before, a difficult time. We looked around union square and saw our dream loft. The girl who showed us the apartment had a red Moped and heals on. She was very Manhattan and the place was very expensive.

It was fun to imagine our lives in many different places. One day after apartment hunting in the city, my new roommate and I went out to celebrate finding something we liked! We decided to go sake bombing and sushi. I had the car that I drove into the city. We were in the east village and I had work in New Jersey at the pizza place in the morning. I got so drunk off the sake and got sick. Could never handle my alcohol at 19 and my friend drove me to Long Island because that’s where she lived (and thankfully would not let me drive ).

I woke up on Long Island and was so hung over, had to drive to New Jersey at 8 AM to make my 10 AM shift. It was horrible and I was young and dumb. We got approved for the apartment the next day!

We found an apartment on Wall Street walking distance from Pace and it was out of our budget but we took it! It was a one bed room we were able to convert to 2 bedroom, with a make shift wall. Which is a fake wall because you can hear everything in the kitchen. Since I shared a room we paid less than our roommate who had her own room. To share a room on Wall Street in a luxury building is $950 per person per month. It’s not cheap. It’s kind of a dream come true to have your first apartment in Manhattan. It became an identity.

The girl I shared a room with and I had shared the dorm together the year before. So we already knew what it was like to live with each other in the same room. We all shared a huge walk in closet where we had to go in our third roommate’s room to get our stuff. So nobody had privacy; but we had a gym, a doorman, rooftop access, and the roof was beautiful. You could “rent out the space for parties”, and the best part of this apartment was we got to have my dog Scrappy, who was left at home during freshmen year.

The semester started and I was broker than ever. I walked through the back of the apartment building and discovered this old Dutch looking street with cobble stones. It was empty but I noticed that each spot had a restaurant. I had pizza place experience on my resume. However, nowhere in New York wants to hire you unless you have New York experience. I was on a hunt. I applied everywhere and wasn’t getting anything, mainly because of the no New York experience. My resume had High school, Hollister, and Stefanos Pizzeria on it. I wasn’t that desirable. While I was walking my dog Scrappy on Stone Street I was looking at the restaurants and a guy started talking to me about Scrappy. We had a small conversation and when he was going inside I asked if he was hiring. He said, for what? I said anything. He said sure, you can have a job, come by this evening and we’ll start training. I was so excited! Even though I had no idea what my job would be.

2010 was surreal! My first apartment on Wall Street and first job as a New York hostess at a Mexican Cantina. It was owned by three white men who lived in New Jersey. They all were married with kids, and were not Mexican what so ever. The third floor was their office. Second floor had a bunch of seats and a Guacamole Bar. The main floor had high top chairs, a bar, and then there was outdoor seating (benches, picnic tables, on cobblestone). Which was the part of stone street that reminds everyone of October fest. We had a manager who was really cool, most of the servers were actresses, and the hostesses handled things like seating people and any take out orders. It was a lot of people, and we were booked everyday. The basement was where the kitchen was. We had amazing guacamole and margaritas that cost $12 each.

If I had to do it over, I would lie and say I was server and hopefully get a serving job. I just settled for the hostess job that paid $12 per hour because I was desperate without experience. I worked a lot for a student. This job lasted me 3 years while I was in school, on and off. On holidays like Cinco de Mayo or October fest, some people would wait for an hour for a table. Sometimes celebrities would be spotted there like Finch from American Pie or Michael Keaton, they loved the Burritos and probably had a luxury apartment there.

I remember my first week the owner found out I was 19, going to school at Pace, having my first apartment with roommates. He said, “so your life must be so fun, am I right?” I mean everything was new and exciting, I felt like I was a mini adult living in the financial district. I was broke all the time, my dog barked and peed in the house (my neighbors got upset), oh and I still did not know what I wanted to do with my life!

I joined a sorority that semester. Made a lot of mistakes during my pledging process but it was so fun. One time I spent the money I was supposed to use for rent at a bar called Gaslight in the Meatpacking district. I bought everyone tequila shots and it was definitely $250 and I used my rent money partially. That night I lost my phone, my keys, my wallet, and my dignity. I don’t know how I got home but I needed to get bailed out from my mistake. I would make a lot of resolutions when this would happen. Get good grades, save money, be a good human, volunteer, and go home more often. In school I never missed a class because of these resolutions. My passion was hanging out with people from school and finding a new place that would take our fake IDs. I always used real people’s IDs. It really just needed to go through the ID machine. However, the club got caught with under age drinking and got stricter. They would get taken away by security guards and then I’d be on the hunt again for a new one.

My pledge name was L0ko like Fourl0ko because I got caught 4x drinking when we were a dry process. I would get caught in neighborhood hangouts like the McDonalds near McGuire’s from an older sorority sister or worse my pledge mom. We got in trouble for getting our nose pierced during purity week on St. Marks. I had to write a paper on alcoholism. Luckily my roommate was in the sorority and I made friends through her fast. I was invested in Greek life. The partying was at apartments, bars, rooftops, venues, you name it. The city was our oyster and we met so many people to drink with and socialize with.

They all mainly studied business and it was nice to feel like we were actually in college. We even went to West Chester to see the Homecoming game. New York took away from the college experience.

One time we had a party and at first not many people showed up. I think it was a holiday party or something. Before you knew it, everyone was there. People we didn’t even know. This one girl was interning on Wall St brought her boss. He must’ve been in the age group 35-40 and hit on our friend who was 19 years old. She said no and he hit her or choked her. A bunch of Staten Island guys who were friends with us at the time dragged him out of the apartment and beat him up in the elevator. The creepy man was getting married and had a broken nose. Another guy got angry with my friend for not liking him and I think she ignored him. He came to our party with an orange spray tan, and bragged about his money, and because everyone ignored him, he threw a Grey Goose bottle at the chandelier in our hallway to the elevator. It shattered everywhere. How crazy is that? It was just an out of control in our one bedroom converted two bedroom, apartment. I can’t believe how out of hand kids can get. It was actually scary because the liability was on us if anybody gets hurt.

The party turned into a shit show and I never want to have anything like that again. After stuff like getting in the sorority, starting my first job, my third obstacle was my dog and his bad behavior. Our neighbor was a doctor and complained about us constantly. Scrappy barked. I even got a barking collar that sprayed citrus in his face. He liked the citrus so much that he would taste the orange spray and would continue barking. To control the barking I found that leaving music on helped his anxiety. Taking a Jersey dog to the city really freaks them out. The noise and the city walking. The city also helped him because he had skin allergies and was allergic to grass, so the concrete was nice.

We had some set backs and then we had the summer and Junior year was approaching. I got into a study abroad program the next year in Italy. So that summer to prepare for it as well as my hostess job I also worked at a bar called Thunder Jackson's and there would be no hourly pay nor benefits. I was still only 19 turning 20 and never worked at a bar. Sometimes I made $500 on a Friday or Saturday night and sometimes on an afternoon, I would make nothing. So I saved what I could. I spent the summer hanging out with sorority girls and guys from the Fraternity. One I was dating.

He just got out of a relationship and knew I was leaving for Rome so we just took it slow. We would go out, eat, drink and sleep til 4 every day. Before I left, he tried to take me to Jersey Dives to experience Sky diving. There were too many clouds that day that we couldn’t go. We spent the whole day waiting because I was leaving for Italy that Monday. I’m glad that happened because he wasn’t the person I was supposed to do that with. I’m terribly afraid of heights. Italy was approaching and it was time to say goodbye to Wall Street.

I wasn’t going to really have a say in the new apartment, they found it when I was on my way to London. It was in the Upper East Side and I was going to live with the same girls. I took the money I saved for the summer and gave it to my dad to give to me incrementally over the semester so I could use it abroad. I got someone to sublet my spot and was ready to go. Everything felt good except that situation-ship, he was slowly but surely ghosting me. He meant something to me because at that time he was the third person I dated, in my whole life. Everything was perfect but leaving him was not going smooth. I didn’t know when to call it quits, so I decided to write him about every experience I was having abroad and then just like that from Wall Street to Rome. Well, at that point it was Wall street, to London, to Florence to Rome.

At the end of that semester my counselor said I needed to decide on a major. She asked me “ What do you want to get out of college?” I said, “A JOB”. She said “Go into hotels, you’ll always have a job.” My junior year I was a business major with a concentration in Hotel Management. 1 out of 30 students in the hotel management department. It felt right.

#alltheplaces howtolove myfirstapartment

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becausethornbushes-haverose-blog · 7 years

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Since I’ve missed a few days, I’ll just make a post about everything. It’s super long, so if you don’t read it, that’s ok.

Fuzzy stuff

Shameless plug: Red Canary Tattoo in Thurmont, MD is doing a fundraiser for Cuddles Cat Rescue where you pay either $20 or $60 for a tattoo (it depends on what you pick) and they’ll donate the money to the car rescue. My mom and I are totally going and I think other people should go to. You can get more than one tattoo. I plan on getting two!

For the girls

This week, I’m thankful for Mariah and Emily.

Mariah and I have been friends since our freshmen year of college. We lived on the same floor in freshmen housing and had the same FYS. We became friends because us and like two other people were actually the only theatre people in a theatre FYS so of course we bonded. Then, we lived together over that summer to help Ira and Robert (RIP) build the set for Pygmalion which required a 40ft turntable. Building that was a lot of fun, plus the adventures we had in our house were weird and insane as well. There was one time when I was home alone, Mariah had gone to work at FiveBelow, and I was in our room with the door closed and I kept hearing weird noises from downstairs. I was NOT about to walk down there, but I just stayed completely still in my bed and turned off my music so that I could listen. Here’s the really scary part, after about 5 minutes of complete silence, I decided that I heard nothing so I turned my music back on and went back to doing what I was doing. WELL, as I calmed down I heard a noise again and noticed that it sounded like a doorknob being jingled, like someone was trying to open the front door or break in or something. I thought that it was coming from downstairs so I get up and went to open my door. It was my doorknob that was twisting. Someone was trying come into MY room. I backed up and looked under the door and no one was there, but that doorknob was CLEARLY shaking. I told whatever the thing was to go away because I wasn’t going to let it in because it seemed angry. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had something following me around. I used to feed it candy when I was little and my mom would be creeped out by it. Usually it’s super nice, so I knew it wasn’t my little friend. The doorknob continuously moved for 30 minutes. I called Mariah in a panic and told her to come home because I was terrified. Luckily she was coming home anyway and we walked around the house to see if anything was weird and nothing was. THAT NIGHT, both of us woke up at that same time not knowing and saw a huge black figure standing in the middle of our room. Mariah thought she dreamed it. I couldn’t stop staring at it and couldn’t go back to sleep so I knew it was real. It’s still something that I can’t explain. I have no idea what it was or why it wanted to come into my room so badly. Anyway, after that she went away for a year to study in Germany (like how cool is that?!) and she bought me a mug from pretty much every place she visited. I collect mugs so I was completely excited and grateful for them. Then, we actually lived together our senior year and continued to have adventures. The thing about Mariah that I admire is that she’s incredibly dedicated to whatever she sets her mind to. Her friends, her career, everything. It’s crazy. I don’t even know how she does it. Well, I kind of do because I did live with her twice, but still. She told me that wherever she goes, she will buy me mug and she’s kept that promise so far. I actually just got a mug from her from Ramallah, Palestine and it’s beautiful. Our friendship is something that I’ll always value and cherish.

And then there’s Emily. Emily is my sister in Alpha Psi. We were taken by our big at different times, which makes us sisters, not twins. I met her my freshmen year, she was a sophomore. She was the stage manager for Hairspray, I was the light board op, so we had to share the booth together. I am SO glad for that because we bonded so quickly. We both ended up getting sick during the show, so we a bucket of cough drops between us that we shared. We also totally danced during that whole show and swooned over Daniel playing Link because that boy can sing. Emily really wanted to take me as her little, but she planned to study abroad in the spring that year so she couldn’t take me. Steve got me, Emily’s big, and just solidified our bond. We spent our next two years together just gross sisters and hanging out and growing together as people together. We took a drama therapy class together and it sent us down a dark hole of feelings. After the class we did our self revs in, which we decided to do on the same day so we could be in crappy moods together, we went to Taco Bell and ate our feelings in the greenroom. We had so many girls’ dressing room talks where we talked the things that were bothering us. She asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding (which I didn’t end up actually being because of life), but I remember that on spring fling my junior year, we skipped all of the festivities and went to pick up her wedding dress. A bee flew in the window of her truck and landed on her leg. Emily is allergic to bees everyone… She was on the verge of a panic attack with this thing on her leg, so she pulled off into a gas station and handed me a lid to a Pringles can and told me to scoop the bee off of her leg. She jumped out of the truck and was yelling at me to get it off of her. People were staring at us while this was happening. I did scoop it off and it flew away, and we both just started laughing hysterically. We got her wedding dress and then went back to McDaniel. We spent the rest of the day laying outside on a blanket drinking peach iced tea and eating chicken Caesar salads because it was beautiful out and we wanted to enjoy it. When it was time for little picking that year, we each brought blankets and pillows and cuddled on the floor. When we each got our littles, we screamed because it was an exciting time, and then immediately planned out our clues and how we were going to confuse our new littles. I love this woman. Emily is one of the strongest women I know. She’s been through so much and I love how much of a fighter she is. She inspires me to kept fighting. I wish we were able to hang out more, but sadly, she lived in Ohio with her amazing husband and little boy. I’ll make it there one day.

I love these women with all of me. I can’t help it. They’re both so strong and inspiring. I wish I had their drive and courage. They influence me to be better. I can’t imagine my college life without them. So much would be different. I’m glad that I’ve been able to get to know them and share a huge part of my life with them. They will forever hold a special place in my heart.

#thankful

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goodforthemind · 5 years

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*untitled*

Mini-Series! Not sure how many parts there will be, nor do I have a name for it yet, but here’s part one! I’m new at writing so I would love some feedback! enjoy! :))

Salem Harper leaves her home in the US to study abroad in London when she meets Jude Porter.

UNTITLED -- Part I -- 4.1k

The guy in the seat next to me is snoring. I had gotten assigned a middle seat on the plane, which is really making me despise this airline at the moment. I popped in my headphones in an attempt to drown him out, but no such luck. It was so loud. Why couldn’t I be rich enough to fly first class? Or really anywhere where there wasn’t only a mere 4 inches of space between me and other people. Especially ones that snore.

We were 6 hours into an 8 hour flight to London. I decided to study abroad there for the semester; I need to sort my life out. My mom supported my decision, as always, but she was confused as to why I needed to leave home to do it. It’s not that I couldn’t do it at home, but I needed the opportunity to get out of the country and get a little perspective. I heard that studying abroad can be quite good for that, and at this point, I was willing to take anything I could get.

I reached into my bookbag and pulled out my journal. I had taken up journaling about a year ago and it’s been quite helpful. Something about writing down my problems makes me feel lighter, happier. I opened up my journal to the next blank page and began writing:

Turns out that the airport isn’t as bad as I had imagined. Sure, there were too many people for my liking, but I got through by remembering that I was starting a new chapter in my life: Me in London: Being Independent. Figuring Life Out. Deciding what I want out of life. I’m hoping these next 5 months will help to give me some insight, but we’ll see if I get to that point. I can’t imagine that me in the UK could be much different from me in the US, but there is no harm in trying. Or maybe there will be and I just haven’t encountered it yet. But, I’m determined to remain optimistic. It’s going to be good. It has to be.

My pen broke contact with the page. My brain rerouted, thinking about my mental to-do list I had made when I got to the airport. Last week, I received an email from my program director who was helping me figure out exactly what I needed to do when I get to London. The program from my university in America that is sending me abroad turned out to be pretty fancy; they hooked me up with a pretty cool (from what I can tell from the pictures I was sent) apartment in Manchester to share with a roommate. If I’m being completely honest, I was a little nervous about the whole roommate thing, seeing as I’ve never met her before. She’s a student at the university I’m with while in London, and is supposed to act as my travel guide of sorts. I was informed that this acted as a “job” for her; she gets paid to live with me. Basically she would be there to help show me around and answer any questions I had. I was hopeful that we could become friends instead of just roommates.

I had the option of taking classes at the university or doing an internship while I’m in Manchester. I opted to take classes, thinking that it would be easier to meet people my age if I actually went to classes with them. I had to leave in the middle of summer, since this university starts extremely early. August 3rd is my first day, so here I am flying out on July 31st. I’m only taking 3 classes, but being in an unfamiliar country would be challenging enough without the classes.

I looked back down at my journal and kept writing:

I’m doing a pretty good job at that during this whole transition. Between packing for the move and saying goodbye to my family, I’d say I’ve been pretty calm, cool and collected during the whole thing. Mom, on the other hand, was a mess. Of course she knew that I’d be okay, like I always am, but I think she was just sad that I was leaving. I try not to think about the fact that I won’t see Mom or Nora or Grae for the next 5 months, because if I did I would start crying. I haven’t cried yet, and I plan to keep it that way, because once I do I won’t be able to stop. It will be like a constant stream of tears. Not pretty.

My hand was starting to cramp uncomfortably, so I closed my journal and placed it back in my bag. I made a mental note to finish the entry once I had made it to my apartment later. I had managed to kill about 15 minutes just pondering my new life season, so I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window next to my seat. I was grateful to have the window seat in my row, it made me feel like I had more space to myself than I actually did. I watched as the world passed by, allowing it to send me to sleep with dreams of London.

“Attention all passengers: We will be landing at Heathrow Airport in 10 minutes. Please standby for more information.”

The blaring sound of the intercom throughout the cabin woke me from my sleep, which now had me feeling groggy and in need of at least 4 more hours of sleep. I pulled out my headphones (which were starting to hurt my ears since they had been in use for so long), and packed them into my bag. While waiting for the next announcement over the intercom, I glanced around the plane, observing the other passengers. Most all, including Snoring Man, were awake after the sleep-interrupting announcement. I turned my head in the opposite direction then, looking out the window. The plane had begun its descent from the sky, making the towns below come into focus. I could make out cars passing on the street, people walking on the sidewalks, people lounging in the nearby park. Weather must be nice, I thought to myself, taking in the seemingly large amount of people on the grass. I had the stereotype stuck in my head that the weather in the UK was always cold and rainy, but the current sunshine proved that wrong.

I was landing in London, but I’m going to be living in Manchester, meaning that there was still a bit of travelling before I reached my destination. I googled the drive time at the airport before boarding, remembering that it was 45 minutes. Not ideal, but could be worse.

Then, the intercom came on yet again: “Attention all passengers: We will be landing at Heathrow Airport in 5 minutes. Please begin to gather all belongings and wait for landing.”

Finally, I thought, feels like I’ve been on this damn plane for 3 days. I picked up my bookbag and set it on my lap, doing just what Intercom Lady had instructed.

A taxi was waiting for me at the airport after I retrieve my luggage. I came with one much-too-big suitcase, one regular sized suitcase and my bookbag. I tried to pack light, but I was also going to be living here for the next 4 months, so I had to pack accordingly. The taxi driver helped me to load my luggage into the trunk of the car and then opened the rear passenger door for me. I made sure not to go to the wrong side of the car, then he would definitely see me as a dumb American. I already felt a little out of place as is, just standing on the sidewalk outside of the airport, so I didn’t need his judgement as well. Giving Taxi Man the address to the apartment I’ve been given, we started on our way. He informed me the drive would be about 45 minutes (as I found out earlier) so I should make myself comfortable.

I took the opportunity to check my phone for the first time since getting off the plane. I had one text message from my mom and one from my best friend, Cove.

Mom

Hi honey! Just checking to see that you’ve landed and everything went well. Love you! :)

I smiled at her message, I miss her already. I typed out a reply, feeling my throat growing tighter as my fingers moved across the screen.

Salem hi mom, just landed and got into my taxi. flight was good, just long. heading to apartment now! i’ll call you once i get settled. love you more :))

After hitting send, I looked out the window to try and compose myself a bit. The tears haven’t gathered, but I could feel them coming. Taking a few deep breaths, I looked back at my phone and tapped on the unread message I had from Cove.

Cove

bestie girl!! i’m starting to get worried that your plane went down!!! text me!!! i miss you already :(

I shook my head with a grin creeping onto my mouth. She can be so dramatic sometimes.

Salem

i told you it was an 8 hour flight!! i just got in my taxi, i’ll call you in a little. hope you’re having fun on your vacay, miss you :)

After sending my messages, I put in one headphone, making sure that I could hear Taxi Man if he needed to speak to me. I watched out the window, taking in the new scenery around me. It was midday, about 1 o’clock in the afternoon, and there were many people on the streets. I was surprised at how many people were walking along the sidewalks. Back home, I hardly ever saw people walking, everyone there had a car or took the bus (probably why there was so much traffic… more people should take up walking if you ask me).

About 45 minutes later, the taxi pulled up in front of a slightly old-looking brick building. It was tall, standing about 6 stories high. A small park bench sat to the side the front door with a flower pot housing white daisies on either side. It was cute and I was in love with it already.

Taxi Man kindly got out to help me unload my bags from the trunk, wished me well as I tipped him and drove off. I wheeled my bags over to the front door of the building, where there was a small box attached to the wall to the left of the door. There were 2 buttons on the left side of the box labeled “OFFICE” and “TALK” with a speaker located next to it. I turned my head to look over to the door where a small black box with a red light sat just above the handle. I pulled my bookbag from my shoulder to retrieve the piece of paper I’d printed from an email to look at the instructions for when I got to my apartment building.

Once you reach your building, press the “OFFICE” button on the call box. This will connect you to the inside office attendant who will be able to help you find your apartment.

Following the instructions, I reached up to hit the “OFFICE” button. It made a loud buzzing sound as I pressed it, startling me. I waited a couple seconds, but there was no answer. I buzzed again, and this time a woman answered.

“Hello! So sorry, I spilled my coffee all over my blouse and went to fetch some napkins! How can I help, love?” The woman said.

“Um, hi, I’m Salem Harper. I’m supposed to meet with someone about my apartment?” I replied.

There was no response for a few seconds. “Hello? You have to press the ‘TALK’ button when you speak, dear.”

Duh, you idiot. I pressed the “TALK” button and repeated the same information, feeling embarrassed. I added, “Sorry, should have thought to press the button first,” at the end of my line.

“No worries, dear. I’ll buzz you in,” The woman told me. A second later I heard a small click come from the lock on the door along with the red light now turned green. I struggled to get all of my bags through the front door, which was noticed by the woman in the office space. She hurried over to hold the door open for me in order to push all my bags through the door.

Once we were both standing inside the lobby of the building, she greeted me warmly. “Welcome! I’m Liz, it’s a pleasure. It’s Salem, right? We’ve been expecting you, the student from the States!” She asked.

“Yes, Salem. It’s nice to meet you. Thank you, for helping with my bags.” I told her, smiling and trying to make a good first impression. She put her hand in the air to wave off the thank you, as if to say it was no big deal. She was about my height, blonde and on the slim side. Her bright blue eyes stared warmly. She couldn’t have been much older than me, maybe twenty-five or so. Physically, we couldn’t have been more opposite.

“Well, let’s get you up to your flat, shall we? I’ll just run and grab your keys and some other paperwork for you to sign.” Liz scurried back into the office, and I took a second to look around. The floors were a dark stained hardwood while the walls were a light eggshell color. It looked very clean, posh almost. The office had glass for a door and walls, making the room seem much bigger. Directly across from the front door was a double door elevator, with buttons signaling up and down. Must be the parking deck.

“Alright, it seems your room is on the 5rd floor, Flat 5C. Your flatmate is already moved in, but I do believe that I saw her leave just a bit ago. I’ll show you up,” Liz said as she walked out from the office to the elevator, signaling for me to follow her. She had 2 small silver keys in her hand, along with a black key fob and a small stack of papers. Liz pressed the “UP” button on the wall and the elevator doors opened immediately. We stepped inside, and I noticed that the floor was carpeted. I don’t see many elevators with carpeted floors, but I liked it. Elevators always made me a little apprehensive, but somehow the carpet makes it less scary.

Liz pressed the button for Floor 5, causing the doors to slide shut. The elevator hummed lightly as it ascended to the 5th floor and stopped almost seamlessly. Smooth ride.

We exited right from the elevator into a small hallway space with 5 doors. 2 on each side and one directly ahead where the hall stops. Liz walked over to the door at the end of the hall that had a square plaque with “5C” engraved on the middle. She inserted one of the silver keys into the lock on the handle, pausing for a second to speak. “You actually got fairly lucky with your flat, the ones on the end of the hall are always the biggest. And, since you live on the top floor, you get a second floor! The lofts for the 5th floor flats take up what would be the 6th floor,” She smiled brightly, clearly trying to get me excited about the “flat”, as they apparently called apartments here.

Liz turned the key in the lock opening the door, stepping inside to hold it open for me as I wheeled my bags inside. As I looked around the space, I was very surprised. I had seen pictures, but they certainly did not do it justice. The doorway opened into a fairly large open concept apartment, with a living space off to the left with a good-sized kitchen connected to it on the back side. Across from the front door was a small hallway, which Liz informed me held a bathroom and the laundry room. In the middle of the room next to the hallway was a set of stairs that I assumed led up to the second floor. Both bedrooms must be up there, I don’t see any other doors in the main area, I pondered. The left wall of the living room was composed of brick and 3 floor-to-ceiling windows, which I quite liked. They allowed much sunlight in the room, brightening it up. The place came furnished already, and to my relief it was pretty stylish. Whoever picked the furniture in here deserved a handshake.

Liz walked over to the kitchen area and set her stack of papers and keys down onto the small island counter. She pulled out one of the barstools and sat down, motioning for me to join her. I sat, folding my hands on the counter. “Now, I’ll leave you to get settled in just a minute, but first I need to go over some things with you and have you sign some forms,” Liz informed me, sliding her stack of papers in my direction so that I could see them while she spoke. It was mainly basic information; stuff about the building, escape routes, pet policies, etcetera. She explained to me that the second key she held was for my room, and that I was to use the black key fob to enter the building, and if I was to have guests over I would need to buzz them in. They key fob had a tiny button on the front side of it, which is what I could use to allow people into the building. I had never seen that feature on a key fob before, so I was pretty impressed.

“What if I accidentally press it while I’m not here?” I questioned, suddenly nervous that I could possibly let a stranger into the building.

Liz laughed at my nervousness. “Not to worry about that, love. The button doesn’t work unless you are in the building. It’s one of the safety features. Pretty cool, right?” I nodded in response, feeling much less nervous now that I knew I couldn’t mess it up.

She pointed to a couple places on the various pieces of paper where I needed to sign my name. Once everything had been gone through, Liz gathered the forms and left. I stood and locked the door behind her and decided to go explore the place a little more. I grabbed my room key off the counter and headed for the stairs. I secretly hoped that the rooms weren’t too small, seeing that the apartment was already bigger than I expected. How much room could there be here? You hardly ever see apartments with second floors in the States, so I figured that I couldn’t complain that much.

I climbed the stairs and was met with a small open space with 3 doors, all on the adjacent wall from each other. The one on the far wall was cracked open, and stepping forward to push it farther open, it revealed that it was a bathroom. A small bathroom, but plenty big enough. Both doors on the opposite walls were closed, leaving me to guess which was mine. I tried the door on the left first, inserting the key into the lock and attempting to twist it. No dice. I turned and tried the last door, the lock making a satisfying click as the deadbolt on the door slid back. I turned the handle and pushed the door open.

The room was decently sized, with a bare full-size bed pushed onto the back wall across from the door. To the right was a small desk placed in front of the windows. Located to the right of the desk was a closet, just big enough for all my clothes and some other storage bins. The entire wall to the left of the door was empty, already making my imagination run wild with all the things I could possibly decorate it with. I sighed contently, excited to begin making this room my own. I turned out the door and headed back down the stairs to retrieve my bags to start unpacking.

As I was descending the stairs, I heard a key enter the lock on the front door. Suddenly hyper aware of the danger I may be in, I grabbed the nearest thing to me that could potentially be a weapon: the vase on the kitchen island. Arm raised in attack position, I cautiously watched the front door, ready to launch the vase at the intruder. The door opened, my nerves spiked, and in walked a girl about my age. Your roommate, idiot. The girl looked up at me, and seeing the glass vase in my raised arm, alarm crossed over her face.

“Woah, woah! No need for that!” She said, putting her hands up in front of her chest. “Are you okay?” The girl asked me, and I immediately lowered the vase.

“Sorry, you just scared me, wasn’t sure who it was coming in the door.” Some first impression, Salem. She probably thinks you’re crazy.

The girl eyed the vase that was still in my hand. “Was that your weapon of choice? I mean, if you’re going to knock someone out, might as well use something you won’t have to clean up afterward,” She smiled and giggled. The girl then stuck her hand out to me. “I’m Poppy, I’m your flatmate for this semester.”

I took her hand and shook it, still holding the vase in my other hand. “I’m Salem, it’s nice to meet you,” I replied, setting the vase on the island promptly afterward. I’d been holding it for long enough for no reason at this point. “Sorry... about the vase. I promise I’m not usually like that... you know, paranoid.”

Poppy shook her head and told me not to worry about it. She’s nice, and also very pretty. She’s about my height, with short blonde hair that fell just below her shoulders. She’s on the curvy side which is very flattering for her. She wore a bright yellow blouse with a black skirt, tights and black Chuck Taylors. Something about her screamed fun, which was a good thing because everything about me just screamed boring.

Poppy and I made small talk; she asked me how my trip over was and what I thought about Manchester so far. “It’s nice, not that I’ve seen much of it yet. I’m hoping to go exploring a little bit after I get settled in. I probably also need a few things from the store, I’d imagine,” I should probably make a list while I’m thinking about it.

“Well, I happen to know the area very well, so I’d be happy to show you around. I can take you by all my favorite places! Oh! There’s this lovely little bakery a few blocks away from here that a friend of mine works at, you just have to try it…” She trailed off as a buzzing sound came from her pocket. She reached back to grab her phone, reading whatever notification had come up. “Speaking of, I’m actually running a little late to meet him. I do have to run now, but I’ll be back in an hour or so and we can go to the shops from there. Will you be alright here?” Poppy questioned, turning to head for the front door. I nodded, said goodbye and she left. I picked up where I left off, going to grab my bags and haul them up the stairs. They were filled to the absolute brim, making them pretty heavy. It was a bit of a struggle to get them up the stairs by myself. I was a little winded after the ordeal, but no one needed to know that.

I wheeled my bags into my room, setting them down at the foot of my bed. I pondered where I should start, opting to begin putting my clothes away first. I didn’t bring a lot of stuff with me, not wanting to check too many bags. I really only brought clothes, personally necessities and some decorations from home. I already began a mental list of what I needed from the store, most importantly: food. I’m starving. I’m sure Poppy had at least something down in the kitchen, but I wasn’t about to eat her food.

Knowing I had a long journey ahead of me with getting my room in order, I unzipped my first suitcase and began unpacking.

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