#instead of making them rehearse something over and over without a proper understanding of it

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

From:

To:

And finally to:

I love them, okay.

[bts-weverse-trans]

210104 Weverse Magazine ‘Be’ Comeback Interview - Suga

SUGA “I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music” BTS BE comeback interview 2021.01.04

SUGA has this way of talking passionately with a deadpan look on his face. Full of passion about his life and music.

How is your shoulder? SUGA: Good. I think it’ll get even better once I take off this brace. Apparently, it takes several months for a full recovery, but I'm trying to get better as fast as possible.

How does it feel like to have resolved a problem that has distressed you for long? SUGA: First of all, I'm glad. The pain is one thing, but when my shoulders got worse, I couldn't even raise my arms. But when I heard that this might recur when getting the surgery at a young age, I waited for the right time and had decided to get it done early next year regardless of the COVID-19 situation. I had planned to get the surgery after the year-end stages, but I got it done this year (2020) because my doctors advised me to start preparing early for next year’s promotions and activities.

How does it feel like watching the other members doing promotions? SUGA: I can't say it feels great. I could see the emptiness because we've been together as a group of seven for so long. Not necessarily because I'm not there but because something that should be there is missing?

Is that what made you join the promotion as much as possible? You shot lots of video footage in advance and you even appeared in the Mnet “2020 MAMA” through VR. SUGA: Fake SUGA (Laughs). There’s this 3D studio where we shot it. I shot, scanned, and acted there, but couldn't see the actual result at the studio. I thought a sense of displacement was unavoidable, and that was exactly the case. (Laughs) I acted normal because it would have been aired anyway even if I hadn’t had the surgery, but it seems a lot because it’s aired after the surgery.

You must feel restricted not being able to go on stage. SUGA: The thing is, it's only been a month after I got surgery, but my absence on stage is so apparent. But my doctors keep telling me that I shouldn't be impatient and in fact, many athletes get a resurgery when they return to the field without proper rehabilitation. So I'm working on trying to care less. For the first two weeks after surgery, I felt so frustrated that I tried out new things. I even watched movies I didn't watch.

What movies did you watch? SUGA: I watched ‘Samjin Company English Class’ as it happened to be on IPTV, and now I have ‘Tenet’ on my list. ‘Parasite’ was the last movie I saw at a cinema. As the social distancing measures became stricter, I haven’t been going outside, except going to the hospital. I even eat at home. I'm also watching a lot of TV nowadays. Watching music shows like ‘Sing Again’, ‘Folk Us’, and ‘Show Me The Money 9’ made me think of what I should do in the upcoming days.

Could you elaborate on that? SUGA: A lot of candidates on ‘Sing Again’ are very talented but hadn't had the opportunity, and on ‘Folk Us’, I noticed that many took their own guitars on stage. I started playing the guitar lately and I'm having this urge to broaden my scope of music. And since my interest in the music industry in the U.S. grew, I'm getting prepared, studying English and all.

What fueled your interest? SUGA: In some ways it’s the most commercially developed market. You could lose the industry attention in a flash if it's not feasible. So in this system, you would try everything and that would be an efficient way. I want to do music for a long time, and to this end, I always want to learn more about the global music industry because I want to do music that’s loved not only in Korea, but also in the U.S., Japan and Europe.

Speaking of which, it seems BE was influenced from music of the past rather than today's trends. SUGA: I especially like impromptu music. I love the songs that were made in one take instead of being recorded several times. In this era of crossover genres, the desire to do better in music is growing inside me.

As the genres become more blended, the melody you use must be more important. Does starting to play the guitar affect your composing in any way? SUGA: I always liked using guitar sounds. And I have always liked the Eagles. If you play the guitar, it’s way easier to write songs because you can carry it along wherever you go, pluck on the strings to create melody lines. Keyboards are difficult to carry around. (Laughs) I usually work on my laptop but I had this thought that I definitely needed an instrument. It accelerates my work and improves my understanding of chords.

It makes me think you could intuitively make melodies. SUGA: It’s easier to write a song because you can intuitively make a progression and try many different things. During my work on ‘Eight’, IU had recorded and sent me a song from her phone. At the time I couldn’t play the guitar, so we tried to make sure we’re working on the same page when keeping track of each other's progress. That made me feel the need to learn an instrument.

This is actually before you started playing the guitar, but I found ‘Telepathy’ in BE very interesting. The varying melodic progressions between hooks for each member made me wonder if you wrote the melody intuitively for each part. SUGA: I tried writing a melody for the first time this year (2020), and as I started knowing the fun of music, it opened a lot of new doors for me. So it was kind of easy working on it. I just played a beat and wrote from the beginning until the end. Done. I wrote it in just 30 minutes. The song almost wrote itself. The trends of pop and hip-hop these days cross boundaries between vocals and rap. I like this trend.

When I listen to your singing, it feels like you’re hitting the beats rather than singing along the notes. So I thought perhaps you're singing as if you're rapping. SUGA: When you're rapping, you just think of the rhythm, so it’s like simply putting on a melody to a rhythm. To define which comes first, I think melody adds to it while writing the rap.

In ‘Life Goes On’, the lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me, nothing’s changed’ are somewhere in between. It's not rap but it’d be mundane to say it's a mere melody. SUGA: There are obviously songs where the rap needs to be highlighted. For example, in ‘Dis-ease’ or ‘Ugh!’, you have to be good at rap. But in songs that should be easy to listen to, impressive raps are not always the way to go. Sometimes, you want smooth transitions without obstacles.

In that sense, the rap flow of ‘Blue & Grey’ was impressive. Rather than a dramatic effect that emphasizes each part, you extended the rap just as much as the slowing beat. SUGA: To be honest, this beat is difficult to rap to. The beginning of the song only has a guitar line, which made it even more difficult. I participated when we wrote lyrics for ‘Blue & Grey’ and I've always wanted to work on a song like this. It was because verse 1 talks about the theme of the song.

It seems you achieved almost everything that you wanted in BE. SUGA: I think it took less than a week to make my part in the album. After having written one or two melodies for ‘Life Goes On’, I wrote a version complete with rap, and liked it that I even worked on a separate arrangement and lyrics. Rather than pondering over the ways that might work, I choose to simply play the music and write.

Many creators are unsure even after they’ve produced good work. How do you get the conviction to release your work? SUGA: Many musicians are unsure whether they should release their music or not. It was the same for me, but the thing is, you’ll never release anything if you nitpick everything. For example, if we release 10 songs, we have a chance to unveil them in concerts or fan events. And sometimes, as we listen to the song, we think, ‘Why does this part that had bothered me no longer bother me?’ Some things might feel awkward at some point, but in time, it no longer feels awkward. Even I forget about it. So it's more efficient to fine tune, looking at the big picture, rather than thinking too much about the details. On top of that, during promotions, I don’t have the time to pick tracks that others have sent for 10 hours. It would be a success for all of us if each of us play and write a melody in their own time and collaborate with others on the details. So the way of songwriting has evolved in many aspects.

What motivated such evolution? SUGA: I think it evolved naturally. I've changed in personality this year (2020), as well as in terms of my interpretation and attitude toward life to the extent that I almost thought I've been rehearsing. How would it feel like if there were no stage to go to or anyone looking out for me? This thought made me realize the value of these things.

In ‘Dis-ease’, you sing ‘I don’t know if it’s the world that's sick’. Was it this lifestyle that changed your thoughts about your work? SUGA: Yes. When I was young, I had embraced the belief that ‘It must be my fault’, but as I got older, I realized that this is not always true. Most of what I had thought was my fault was in fact, not my fault. On the other hand, there are things that I did well and times I had been lucky.

‘I NEED U’ came out during a time when you were still thinking, “It must be me”. After the members put on a stage with ‘I NEED U’ in KBS' ‘Song Festival’, you wrote on Weverse, “It’s the same as five years ago.” How would you compare with back then? (This interview was held on December 19, 2020.) SUGA: We've matured quite a bit. And our stage performances have become more natural. I still like ‘I NEED U’. Just listening to the beat makes me sentimental, and above all, the song came out nicely. So as I was watching this and that when I stumbled across old videos. Watching them made me think that we haven’t changed much.

In what aspect haven't you changed much? SUGA: Before the social distancing measures got stricter, I talked with the photographer for BE, whom I had met four years ago. The photographer was surprised that we hadn’t changed much after all the success, even though he had assumed we’d be very different.

I'm amazed personally. I’ve had the chance to meet the members before your debut, but from your way of talking with members or others, it seems you haven't changed. SUGA: I think it's because we don’t give it a big deal about success. For example, it's incredible to be ranked first on the Billboards, but there’s also this sense of, “Okay, and?”

Even the Grammys? (Laughs) SUGA: When we got nominated for the Grammy Awards, we thought, ‘Is this real?’ (Laughs) Of course we were delighted, but it didn’t make us think, ‘We're singers nominated for the Grammy.’ If you're nominated, you're nominated, and if you get the award, you get the award. You don't get shaken by that. I know it's a great award and would be so grateful if we receive it, but we know that nothing is possible without the tremendous support of our fans. What’s more important is that the fans are more flattered than us when we receive a great award. So everyone's rejoicing, but it’s like, ‘Let's do what we have to do.’ We've been training ourselves to keep finding our places, so no one remains overexcited.

In ‘Fly To My Room’, there are lyrics that say, ‘This room is too small to contain my dream’, and ‘Sometimes this room becomes an emotional trash can, but it embraces me.’ I had this feeling that the room had been such a place and that you were accepting that you have changed. Then the essence must have remained the same. SUGA: It wasn’t easy to accept that we eventually change. But I think it's a good thing that we changed. What we did back then was possible only at that time, and we could change because of the things we had accomplished.

Then, what new things are you dreaming about? SUGA: I'm eager to continue doing music. Since all performances were canceled due to COVID-19, I had a chance to talk to so many musicians in Korea. I talked with legendary singers as well as people who are my contemporaries. Talking with them once again made me realize that I love music so much. Because music is my profession, I can’t imagine myself not doing it. I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music.

What kind of music do you think you’ll be engaged in in the future? SUGA: I was greatly motivated when I saw the concert of Na Hoon-a last Chuseok . I wondered how many musicians would actually be able perform and write music for so long like he has. At that moment, it occurred to be that ‘I want to be like him’. He has passion and desire, and most of all, he is a superstar. A few years ago, I took my parents to a Na Hoon-a concert, and when they watched the performance last Chuseok, they said it was way less impressive to see him perform through the TV. (Laughs)

That must explain your interest in a broader spectrum of music from instruments to composing and musical genres. Because you want to be doing this for a long time. SUGA: My goal is to continue doing music in any shape or form. In that sense, I have this great respect toward Cho Yong-pil. He takes the best sound there is and reinterprets it into his own. I think that’s something I want to emulate and keep changing and evolving so that I can continue doing music for decades to come.

The lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me nothing’s changed’ must sound more meaningful for the fans because they will be listening to your music for a long time. SUGA: A month and a half in the current times must seem like a lifetime for the fans when we're far apart. I feel the same. But I think that's proof that we worked hard for the past seven years and that the fans have been passionately reaching out to us. I'm striving to get to them as fast as I can, and I'm eager to go on stage. I'm going through this because I want to be better on stage in a better condition, so don't be sad, and please hang in there a little longer.

Trans © Weverse

[sergiovinazzi]

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Two)

2.9k words, rated E for everyone :)

Lando’s voice, amplified by the TV speakers, echoes around the humming Red Bull garage. “I’m fine but I’ve been better. I can say that I’m not in perfect condition, I’m not gonna lie. Some work to do mentally of course. I talk about that a lot, and mental health and mental strength is very important. I’ve not been sleeping that great and so on… not ideal and I’m feeling a bit sore, but I’m not the guy in the worst position after Wembley. I’ll work on it, I’ll make sure I’m in the best shape possible, and I feel like I can still go out and focus on what I need to do, and that’s the main thing.”

Your mind races as you listen to the boy plastered across the many screens revisit his experience at Wembley. He sounds awful; something about his cadence making it even more obvious that he is really, truly shaken up. The wavering pitch, awkward pausing, fumbling for words; everything about the way he presents himself is serving as a brutal reminder that being physically unscathed is no indicator that harm was not dealt. Even as the interview moves past the topic of last week’s Euro Final, you notice the shift in demeanor and your heart aches. You worry that bringing the watch to him is a bad idea, that it could prompt unbidden memories and disquieting feelings. You understand how big of an event Silverstone is from your dad’s tangents alone, especially for an English team with an English driver, so you reevaluate whether your decision to come was selfish, one made solely to alleviate your own sentiments of guilt rather than to verily right your believed wrongdoings.

On the journey to Silverstone, your dad had made multiple attempts at lessening your stress, even opting for variations of the if he steps out of line I will put him right back in his place father speech. Unfortunately fruitless, your father’s attempts mean you remain just as anxious as when you had first discovered that you managed to obtain a stolen wristwatch.

You’re not sure whether it’s the crisp morning air or your nerves that sends chills across your flesh, but your attempt to ground yourself subtly doesn’t go unnoticed by your dad as he passes you in the garage.

“Time is ticking,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips. “No pun intended.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to downplay your apprehension, but your voice gives away any and all signs of the false confidence you hope to portray. “Can you do it for me?” you plead.

“I can’t just stroll on over to the McLaren garage without an invitation or proper reason, especially not a couple hours before free practice starts. It doesn’t look good.”

“It’s not like me walking in there instead would look any better,” you retort, gesturing to the Red Bull logo plastered across the chest of your black polo. “Your branding isn’t what I would call subtle.”

“Look, the McLaren team are a good sort. They’ll help you out if you just explain the issue and show them the watch. I’m sure Lando will understand too, he seems like a pretty nice bloke,” your dad reassures you.

Sighing, your eyes meet the floor, fingers intertwined with each other as you fidget incessantly. Before you can speak up in further defiance, however, an additional set of footsteps grow nearer and you freeze at the voice which speaks up.

“Christian, how much longer until our media slot?”

You lose your breath momentarily, locking your gaze onto your shoes as you wait for the person to pass by.

“About five minutes, Max,” your dad replies. “We were just about to head over.”

When you hear the footsteps grow fainter, you risk looking up, thankfully being met with only the observance of your father. You don’t even realize that you’ve tensed your body until your dad points it out.

“Relax,” he says. “He’s not going to say anything here, especially not on a race weekend.”

Nodding, you feel your shoulders ease up but you remain quiet.

“Anyways, like I said, our media briefing and interviews start soon and we’re after McLaren this weekend so they should already be back in their garage,” he says, realizing that you still appear troubled by the task ahead of you. “I promise you, everything will be fine. Just go over there and I’ll meet you back here when we’re done. The quicker you head over, the quicker you’re done with it and we can all move on." With that, your dad walks away and you reluctantly leave the Red Bull garage, adjusting your shirt as you straighten up.

You take a brief glance at your phone, turning it off after you try one last time to keep the picture of the boy imprinted in your mind. Eyes darting rapidly, you attempt to scan the paddock for anyone looking remotely like him while you make your way towards the bright orange and blue indicators of the McLaren garage.

The frequency of orange-clad individuals grows the further you stray from the safety of Red Bull’s garage, and you feel your heartbeat begin to increase. Worried that someone would stop you before you could approach the one person you had traveled all the way to Silverstone for in the first place, you quicken your pace.

You’re mere meters away when you spot him. Pushing past a few people while trying to keep your eyes trained on him, you watch as he turns around to talk briefly with the woman next to him.

Huffing, you muster up the little confidence you have and tap him on the shoulder.

His confusion is evident and the blonde woman next to him does not look pleased to have been interrupted. The silence is palpable as they stare at you, expecting an explanation for the abrupt ending of their conversation.

“Hi,” is all you can deliver. You’re at a loss for words while the woman next to him seems to lose what little patience she has with you. Everything you had rehearsed beforehand, gone. Your mind is foggy and your mouth feels dry as you try to compose yourself. “Um, can I talk to you for a second? It won’t be long, I promise.” Your voice breaks at the end and you wish you had never agreed to get on that stupid red-eye to Silverstone in the first place.

Lando offers a look of sympathy and then turns to the woman next to him. “Charlotte, could you just give us a second?”

Pursing her lips and turning on her heel, the woman walks away, heading towards the mouth of the McLaren garage. She’s far enough away that you’re out of earshot, but close enough that you feel her gaze linger as Lando turns back to face you.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he tells you with a smile. “We can take a picture if you want or I can sign some stuff for you.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, mentally slapping your palm against your forehead and forcing yourself to get a grip. Idiot. “Fuck, sorry, that sounded so rude! It’s just-” you rush to explain.

“Oh no, it’s okay!” he stammers. “I should’ve guessed from the Red Bull shirt anway.”

You both share an awkward laugh before you compose yourself and reach a shaky hand into your bag.

“This is going to sound so weird, but I was online shopping for a new watch the other day because I lost mine, and I’m pretty sure I bought the one that was stolen from you. I didn’t know anything about it, I swear. I just...well, here,” you say, offering the watch and its temporary box to Lando.

He looks at you, taking the box only to go wide-eyed at the contents inside.

“I have all the information that I was able to get, but the ad was taken off of eBay and I really wanted to do the right thing and give it back to you. Please don’t be mad.”

“What the hell?!” he exclaims, earning a few looks from people passing by and catching Charlotte’s attention once more. “Sorry, sorry. How did you get this?”

Amused, you laugh quietly while he studies the watch intently. “That was my dad’s reaction too. Basically there was a listing for it on eBay and it was sort of an impulse buy,” you explain. “I didn’t see the news coverage of what happened until afterwards and I felt awful. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, I genuinely had no idea.”

Shrugging, he plays it off. “Nothing I can’t handle.” It’s hard to miss his sudden change in attitude from the interview you watched moments ago and you can’t help but wonder whether he has your or the watch’s presence to thank.

There is a brief moment of silence between you both before he continues. “How much did you pay for it?”

“It was so cheap, honestly,” you say. “Nothing compared to the original price, I’m sure.”

Charlotte, alerted by Lando’s attention-grabbing reaction to being reunited by his watch, returns to where the two of you are standing. “Oh wow, did you find a replacement watch for him?” she asks you, clearly impressed by the apparent likeness.

“No, Charlotte”, he corrects her. “It’s my one. Look.” He hands the watch to his PR manager, who receives it so gently you think she’s afraid it might shatter in her hands. Flipping the watch between her fingers, she studies the small engraving on the underside of the face.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

Lando nods. “It’s the exact date it was given to me, there’s no way anyone else could know that and make a copy of it.”

You feel the need to justify yourself to her. “It was listed online and I bought it before I knew anything about the situation. I didn’t even really know who Lando was until I saw what happened on the news, I swear.” You anticipate her anger or disapproval, preparing yourself to withstand the lecture you’re about to receive and mentally promising that, as soon as it’s over, you can run back to your dad and tell him you just want to go home.

But it doesn’t come.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaims. “We all thought we’d never see it again and you found it on accident.” The smile she gives you sets your mind at ease. “Technically, this is a police matter now, so I’ll have to hand it over to the right people, but this helps us tremendously. Did you get any information about the seller?”

You explain the situation to her, about how the listing was taken offline but you have a printout of the messages and address the seller gave you, which you hand her from your bag. She lets you know that someone may get in touch soon to ask questions but not to worry, that it’s only a formality. Eventually, she asks if you’d like to watch free practice from a spot in the mobile hospitality unit, but you politely decline, explaining that you needed to get back to your dad in the Red Bull garage instead.

Charlotte smiles fondly at Lando and presses the brim of his cap down over his eyes. “Come on, you, we have to go and get ready now anyway.”

He takes off his hat, cheeks flushing as he makes an effort to quickly brush the curls lining his forehead, placing it back on and dismissing Charlotte with a wave of his hand. “Okay, just give me a minute.”

Once the two of you are alone, he pulls out his phone. “Do you have Venmo? I’ll pay you back, it’s not fair that you had to waste your money.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

Lando seems unconvinced. “It’s really not a problem.”

“Seriously, it’s all good.”

“Well,” he continues awkwardly. “I have to go, but are you here for the whole weekend or...?”

You shake your head. “Just today. I’m not into Formula 1, I find it a little bit boring.”

“Seriously?! The fastest cars in the world and you’re calling it boring? Why even come to something like Silverstone if it’s so boring?” he feigns offense, doing air quotes as he imitates your apparent disdain for the sport.

Laughing quietly, you shrug. “I have family at Red Bull, so it was basically just luck and convenience that you were in the U.K. this weekend,” you clarify. “I don’t really understand Formula 1, that’s all.”

“Fair enough, it’s not for everyone I suppose,” Lando replies. “So who in your family works at Red–” The end of his question is drowned out by the sound of his name called by an evidently disgruntled, impatient engineer.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve really gotta go, but, um,” he exhales with a nervous laugh. “I still feel like I need to repay you in some way. Do you want to go get a drink after the race on Sunday? I’m busy for the next few days but Sunday night I’ll be free. Only if you want to, of course, I don’t want to, like, pressure you or anything.”

You laugh, appreciative that the nervousness was shared. “That– Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll give you my number.”

He types your details into his phone before apologizing once more, thanking you again, and rushing off into the garage.

——

On Sunday, you let your dad believe he’s the one who convinced you to stay for the entire race weekend, but it’s the promise of Lando’s company later that night and the endearing text messages on your phone that prompts the desire to see this weekend through. You had spent the previous nights on your phone, going through driver and team Instagram accounts, as well as the F1 website, to get an idea of what to expect. Typically, it would pain you to look through motorsport news pages, especially with so many of the reports centering around Max and his vie for the championship as of late, but you manage.

You notice almost immediately while settling into your spot at the back of the garage that the energy does not match your own. You are enthusiastic and eager, while the rest of the team is stressed and rushes around you. Presumably, it’s because race day impacts their livelihoods and paycheks whereas it only dictates your family’s dinner topics, but, nevertheless, your excitement refuses to simmer.

Unfortunately, if it was weird for you to be seen at the McLaren garage before the first free practice, it would be infinitely more suspicious for you to be lingering around on race day, so you were not able to catch Lando at all since your initial meeting on Friday. However, you made sure to message him good luck beforehand, to which he thanked you and expressed excitement for your upcoming night.

“If you need anything, just ask. I’ll be on the pitwall,” your dad says, snapping you out of your whirring mind. He notices your obscure behavior, quick to comment on it. “Is it weird? Being here after so long?”

You nod, shrugging. “Unusual, for sure. So much has changed since the last time I came and watched, but I’m excited, though.”

“Well, it’s always good to have you here.”

Reciprocating your dad’s grin, you silently send him on his way. He exits quickly and leaves you to your own devices. Though, your own devices look to consist of impatiently waiting for the race to start and scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Ironically, your boredom with pre-race antics appears to create quite the dichotomy against the chaos exuding from the garage you find yourself encompassed in.

Regardless, your attention is regained when frequent cuts are made to the drivers in their cars, and you recognise that the race will be starting soon. You are temporarily startled when the cars begin moving without hearing an official announcement, but quickly realisee that it is merely a formation lap and no one else around you seems to be paying all too much mind to it.

When the cars return to their positions on the grid, you watch eagerly as the lights flash and the announcers begin yelling. You keep your eyes trained on the orange car towards the front of the grid, watching Lando so intently that you almost miss what happens to the cars in front of him.

Your eyes go wide as you watch the events unfold: the Red Bull car out front collides with what you identify as a Mercedes, spinning and slamming into the barrier. Gasps chorus across the garage as the screens replay slowed clips of the crash as an announcement states that the safety car has been deployed. They replay it from every conceivable angle, your astonishment at the severity is present upon your first viewing, but it’s only after the sixth clip that it clicks in your head that the person in the car is Max.

“For the second time this season, Hamilton and Verstappen clash and tangle on the opening lap, but, this time, it is ending in dramatic consequences for the championship leader.”

If you had perceived the pre-race behavior in the garage as chaotic, this was a whole new level of absurdity.

People rush around you while orders are shouted and frustrations are verbalised.

Your dad is angry.

The last time you recall him behaving like this was when your younger sister had broken the wine glasses he had bought for your mother on their honeymoon. You, however, ignore his yelling and remain encapsulated by the TV, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the events unfolding finally, finally register in your brain.

Car number 33 is in the wall and out of the race, and your ex-boyfriend is inside, silent and unmoving.

____________

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love

[sugadaily]

SUGA has this way of talking passionately with a deadpan look on his face. Full of passion about his life and music. How is your shoulder? SUGA: Good. I think it’ll get even better once I take off this brace. Apparently, it takes several months for a full recovery, but I'm trying to get better as fast as possible. How does it feel like to have resolved a problem that has distressed you for long? SUGA: First of all, I'm glad. The pain is one thing, but when my shoulders got worse, I couldn't even raise my arms. But when I heard that this might recur when getting the surgery at a young age, I waited for the right time and had decided to get it done early next year regardless of the COVID-19 situation. I had planned to get the surgery after the year-end stages, but I got it done this year (2020) because my doctors advised me to start preparing early for next year’s promotions and activities. How does it feel like watching the other members doing promotions? SUGA: I can't say it feels great. I could see the emptiness because we've been together as a group of seven for so long. Not necessarily because I'm not there but because something that should be there is missing? Is that what made you join the promotion as much as possible? You shot lots of video footage in advance and you even appeared in the Mnet “2020 MAMA” through VR. SUGA: Fake SUGA (Laughs). There’s this 3D studio where we shot it. I shot, scanned, and acted there, but couldn't see the actual result at the studio. I thought a sense of displacement was unavoidable, and that was exactly the case. (Laughs) I acted normal because it would have been aired anyway even if I hadn’t had the surgery, but it seems a lot because it’s aired after the surgery. You must feel restricted not being able to go on stage. SUGA: The thing is, it's only been a month after I got surgery, but my absence on stage is so apparent. But my doctors keep telling me that I shouldn't be impatient and in fact, many athletes get a resurgery when they return to the field without proper rehabilitation. So I'm working on trying to care less. For the first two weeks after surgery, I felt so frustrated that I tried out new things. I even watched movies I didn't watch.

What movies did you watch? SUGA: I watched ‘Samjin Company English Class’ as it happened to be on IPTV, and now I have ‘Tenet’ on my list. ‘Parasite’ was the last movie I saw at a cinema. As the social distancing measures became stricter, I haven’t been going outside, except going to the hospital. I even eat at home. I'm also watching a lot of TV nowadays. Watching music shows like ‘Sing Again’, ‘Folk Us’, and ‘Show Me The Money 9’ made me think of what I should do in the upcoming days. Could you elaborate on that? SUGA: A lot of candidates on ‘Sing Again’ are very talented but hadn't had the opportunity, and on ‘Folk Us’, I noticed that many took their own guitars on stage. I started playing the guitar lately and I'm having this urge to broaden my scope of music. And since my interest in the music industry in the U.S. grew, I'm getting prepared, studying English and all. What fueled your interest? SUGA: In some ways it’s the most commercially developed market. You could lose the industry attention in a flash if it's not feasible. So in this system, you would try everything and that would be an efficient way. I want to do music for a long time, and to this end, I always want to learn more about the global music industry because I want to do music that’s loved not only in Korea, but also in the U.S., Japan and Europe. Speaking of which, it seems BE was influenced from music of the past rather than today's trends. SUGA: I especially like impromptu music. I love the songs that were made in one take instead of being recorded several times. In this era of crossover genres, the desire to do better in music is growing inside me. As the genres become more blended, the melody you use must be more important. Does starting to play the guitar affect your composing in any way? SUGA: I always liked using guitar sounds. And I have always liked the Eagles. If you play the guitar, it’s way easier to write songs because you can carry it along wherever you go, pluck on the strings to create melody lines. Keyboards are difficult to carry around. (Laughs) I usually work on my laptop but I had this thought that I definitely needed an instrument. It accelerates my work and improves my understanding of chords. It makes me think you could intuitively make melodies. SUGA: It’s easier to write a song because you can intuitively make a progression and try many different things. During my work on ‘Eight’, IU had recorded and sent me a song from her phone. At the time I couldn’t play the guitar, so we tried to make sure we’re working on the same page when keeping track of each other's progress. That made me feel the need to learn an instrument.

This is actually before you started playing the guitar, but I found ‘Telepathy’ in BE very interesting. The varying melodic progressions between hooks for each member made me wonder if you wrote the melody intuitively for each part. SUGA: I tried a melody for the first time this year (2020), and as I started knowing the fun of music, it opened a lot of new doors for me. So it was kind of easy working on it. I just played a beat and wrote from the beginning until the end. Done. I wrote it in just 30 minutes. The song almost wrote itself. The trends of pop and hip-hop these days cross boundaries between vocals and rap. I like this trend. When I listen to your singing, it feels like you’re hitting the beats rather than singing along the notes. So I thought perhaps you're singing as if you're rapping. SUGA: When you're rapping, you just think of the rhythm, so it’s like simply putting on a melody to a rhythm. To define which comes first, I think melody adds to it while writing the rap. In ‘Life Goes On’, the lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me, nothing’s changed’ are somewhere in between. It's not rap but it’d be mundane to say it's a mere melody. SUGA: There are obviously songs where the rap needs to be highlighted. For example, in ‘Dis-ease’ or ‘Ugh!’, you have to be good at rap. But in songs that should be easy to listen to, impressive raps are not always the way to go. Sometimes, you want smooth transitions without obstacles. In that sense, the rap flow of ‘Blue & Grey’ was impressive. Rather than a dramatic effect that emphasizes each part, you extended the rap just as much as the slowing beat. SUGA: To be honest, this beat is difficult to rap to. The beginning of the song only has a guitar line, which made it even more difficult. I participated when we wrote lyrics for ‘Blue & Grey’ and I've always wanted to work on a song like this. It was because verse 1 talks about the theme of the song.

It seems you achieved almost everything that you wanted in BE. SUGA: I think it took less than a week to make my part in the album. After having written one or two melodies for ‘Life Goes On’, I wrote a version complete with rap, and liked it that I even worked on a separate arrangement and lyrics. Rather than pondering over the ways that might work, I choose to simply play the music and write. Many creators are unsure even after they’ve produced good work. How do you get the conviction to release your work? SUGA: Many musicians are unsure whether they should release their music or not. It was the same for me, but the thing is, you’ll never release anything if you nitpick everything. For example, if we release 10 songs, we have a chance to unveil them in concerts or fan events. And sometimes, as we listen to the song, we think, ‘Why does this part that had bothered me no longer bother me?’ Some things might feel awkward at some point, but in time, it no longer feels awkward. Even I forget about it. So it's more efficient to fine tune, looking at the big picture, rather than thinking too much about the details. On top of that, during promotions, I don’t have the time to pick tracks that others have sent for 10 hours. It would be a success for all of us if each of us play and write a melody in their own time and collaborate with others on the details. So the way of songwriting has evolved in many aspects. What motivated such evolution? SUGA: I think it evolved naturally. I've changed in personality this year (2020), as well as in terms of my interpretation and attitude toward life to the extent that I almost thought I've been rehearsing. How would it feel like if there were no stage to go to or anyone looking out for me? This thought made me realize the value of these things. In ‘Dis-ease’, you sing ‘I don’t know if it’s the world that's sick’. Was it this lifestyle that changed your thoughts about your work? SUGA: Yes. When I was young, I had embraced the belief that ‘It must be my fault’, but as I got older, I realized that this is not always true. Most of what I had thought was my fault was in fact, not my fault. On the other hand, there are things that I did well and times I had been lucky. ‘I NEED U’ came out during a time when you were still thinking, “It must be me”. After the members put on a stage with ‘I NEED U’ in KBS' ‘Song Festival’, you wrote on Weverse, “It’s the same as five years ago.” How would you compare with back then? (This interview was held on December 19, 2020.) SUGA: We've matured quite a bit. And our stage performances have become more natural. I still like ‘I NEED U’. Just listening to the beat makes me sentimental, and above all, the song came out nicely. So as I was watching this and that when I stumbled across old videos. Watching them made me think that we haven’t changed much.

In what aspect haven't you changed much? SUGA: Before the social distancing measures got stricter, I talked with the photographer for BE, whom I had met four years ago. The photographer was surprised that we hadn’t changed much after all the success, even though he had assumed we’d be very different. I'm amazed personally. I’ve had the chance to meet the members before your debut, but from your way of talking with members or others, it seems you haven't changed. SUGA: I think it's because we don’t give it a big deal about success. For example, it's incredible to be ranked first on the Billboards, but there’s also this sense of, “Okay, and?” Even the Grammys? (Laughs) SUGA: When we got nominated for the Grammy Awards, we thought, ‘Is this real?’ (Laughs) Of course we were delighted, but it didn’t make us think, ‘We're singers nominated for the Grammy.’ If you're nominated, you're nominated, and if you get the award, you get the award. You don't get shaken by that. I know it's a great award and would be so grateful if we receive it, but we know that nothing is possible without the tremendous support of our fans. What’s more important is that the fans are more flattered than us when we receive a great award. So everyone's rejoicing, but it’s like, ‘Let's do what we have to do.’ We've been training ourselves to keep finding our places, so no one remains overexcited. In ‘Fly To My Room’, there are lyrics that say, ‘This room is too small to contain my dream’, and ‘Sometimes this room becomes an emotional trash can, but it embraces me.’ I had this feeling that the room had been such a place and that you were accepting that you have changed. Then the essence must have remained the same. SUGA: It wasn’t easy to accept that we eventually change. But I think it's a good thing that we changed. What we did back then was possible only at that time, and we could change because of the things we had accomplished. Then, what new things are you dreaming about? SUGA: I'm eager to continue doing music. Since all performances were canceled due to COVID-19, I had a chance to talk to so many musicians in Korea. I talked with legendary singers as well as people who are my contemporaries. Talking with them once again made me realize that I love music so much. Because music is my profession, I can’t imagine myself not doing it. I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music.

What kind of music do you think you’ll be engaged in in the future? SUGA: I was greatly motivated when I saw the concert of Na Hoon-a last Chuseok . I wondered how many musicians would actually be able perform and write music for so long like he has. At that moment, it occurred to be that ‘I want to be like him’. He has passion and desire, and most of all, he is a superstar. A few years ago, I took my parents to a Na Hoon-a concert, and when they watched the performance last Chuseok, they said it was way less impressive to see him perform through the TV. (Laughs) That must explain your interest in a broader spectrum of music from instruments to composing and musical genres. Because you want to be doing this for a long time. SUGA: My goal is to continue doing music in any shape or form. In that sense, I have this great respect toward Cho Yong-pil. He takes the best sound there is and reinterprets it into his own. I think that’s something I want to emulate and keep changing and evolving so that I can continue doing music for decades to come. The lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me nothing’s changed’ must sound more meaningful for the fans because they will be listening to your music for a long time. SUGA: A month and a half in the current times must seem like a lifetime for the fans when we're far apart. I feel the same. But I think that's proof that we worked hard for the past seven years and that the fans have been passionately reaching out to us. I'm striving to get to them as fast as I can, and I'm eager to go on stage. I'm going through this because I want to be better on stage in a better condition, so don't be sad, and please hang in there a little longer.

[kpopimaginings]

SuJu Reaction: S/O can’t get hold of them and panics

A/N: So, this is my first reaction post, so big thanks to the anon who requested it. I may have got a little carried away, so some of these are kinda long for a reaction, but I was having fun. Hope you all enjoy.

I’m putting this all under a cut because TRIGGER WARNING: depression, suicide, anxiety and panic attacks. I promise they are actually fluffy and cute in the end.

Prologue: Super Junior were incredibly busy preparing for a comeback, and you knew your boyfriend was stressed and drained, worrying about making sure everything was perfect for the fans. The trouble was, you knew all too well how quickly that could lead to conditions like anxiety and depression, and, in the case of your best friend, suicide. You’d lost them when you were a teenager and as hard as you tried to move on the trauma of the loss was still something you caried with you. This is why you found yourself texting your boyfriend regularly, just making sure that he was ok and he and his members were looking after themselves. But when three texts in a row and a phone call went unanswered you found yourself starting to panic and desperately needed some sort of confirmation that he was ok, and most importantly alive.

Leeteuk

When you burst into the studio that evening, Leeteuk was the only one still there, but honestly you were grateful for it. When you saw him you were torn between relief that he was fine and anger over being ignored.

“Where are the others? And more importantly why weren’t you answering me?”

“Hey, babe,” said Leeteuk, looking over to you as you spoke. “I sent them home, we’ve been really busy, I thought they could do with a rest. I’ve just been finishing up, I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

“For once, can you please worry about yourself as much as you do other people? I’ve been going crazy, knowing how stressed you’ve been, knowing you probably aren’t taking proper care of yourself, and then you don’t answer me and… Teuk, anything could have happened to you.”

As you poured out your feelings you felt the tears you’d been fighting back starting to surface and Leeteuk suddenly realised what was happening. You’d opened up to him before about what had happened in your past and he was cursing himself for putting you through this.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” he said rushing to take you in his arms. “I’m here with you now, see? Everything’s ok. I’m ok.”

He ran a soothing hand through your hair as you tried to calm down. “How about I take you home and we cook a nice nutritional meal together, yeah?”

You nodded, as he cupped your face in his hands and wiped your tears away with his thumbs.

 Heechul

The moment you walked into the studio, Heechul appeared by your side, despite the fact that he was definitely meant to be helping with recording.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he greeted, giving you a quick kiss. “Are you ok?”

“I’ve sent you three texts, and tried to call you, and I haven’t heard from you at all,” you told him, stoically.

Heechul’s eyes grew wide as he realised what he’d done.

“No, I’m sorry. I’ve been recording, I should have warned you I wouldn’t be able to reply much today.”

“Heechul!” came a sudden shout from Shindong, “You live with her, you’ll see plenty of her later, we need you!”

“So does Y/n,” Heechul shouted back.

“You are so whipped,” Shindong muttered, before raising his voice again, “You were literally in the middle of something.”

Heechul grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the room, ignoring his members completely.

“What do you need?” he asked you.

You smiled softly. “I needed to know you were ok.”

“I am, I promise.”

“Ok, don’t work too hard,” you smiled, turning to leave.

Heechul caught your hand again before you could get too far away.

“I know you don’t think you’re leaving without kissing me goodbye.”

You rolled your eyes, but gave him a kiss all same.

“Shindong’s right, you are whipped,” you laughed.

“No, I just love you,” Heechul replied. “A lot. Are you sure you’ll be ok?”

“I’m sure, just come straight home when you’re done?”

“Why wouldn’t I if I know you’re there waiting for me?”

Yesung

You and Yesung had always been very open with each other, so you knew how hard he was on himself and he knew what had happened with your friend. This made the fact that you haven’t heard from him even more worrying.

You snuck into their rehearsal space, not wanting to interrupt but needing to see him and know he was ok. Eunhyuk spotted you and nudged his hyung, pointing in your direction.

Yesung ran over to you, giving you a quick peck on the cheek.

“Are you ok?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

When you told him he’s missed your texts and call, he knew exactly where your mind had gone.

“Oh no, baby, I’m so sorry,” he told you, looking even more distraught than you. “We’ve been so busy and I’m so stressed about all this and I’m just trying to make this comeback the best yet. I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted. I can’t imagine what I’ve put you through.”

Before you knew what was happening, Yesung was crying.

“I just needed to know you were ok,” you told him pulling him into a hug. “I wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard, then I wouldn’t worry as much. The fans love you no matter what.”

“I know,” he sniffled. “But they’ve supported us for so long now they deserve so much.”

“I guarantee they feel the same way about you, too,” you told him.

At that point Leeteuk came over, Yesung still in your embrace.

“I think you should take him home,” Leeteuk told you.

“I’m fine,” said Yesung, quickly straightening and trying to tidy himself up. “We haven’t finished yet.”

“Well, I’m the leader, and I’ve decided you’ve finished.”

“Thank you,” you told Leeteuk, when Yesung gave up and gathered his things.

“I think you both need it, just relax together,” he advised.

You couldn’t argue with that, as you and your boyfriend headed home for a nice quiet afternoon.

Shindong

You burst into the room where Super Junior were rehearsing to find them all healthy and staring at you.

"Y/n?" said your boyfriend, stepping forward. "What happened? Are you ok?"

"If you could actually answer my texts and calls, I would be," you snapped.

Shindong headed over to his discarded jacket and pulled his phone from the pocket.

“Three missed texts and you’re acting like the worlds going to end?” he quipped, seeing his notifications.

“Mine could!” you shouted.

You thought you'd calm down once you knew he was ok, but his blasé manner was only distressing you more.

“What?” asked Shindong, thoroughly confused.

You grabbed his hand and quickly dragged him away from the rest of group. Once out of their earshot, you began telling him what had happened in your past, and by the end you were sobbing.

“I can’t lose you too,” you cried, and Shindong wrapped you in his embrace.

“Sweetie, I had no idea,” he said, soft boyfriend mode engaged. “I’m so sorry you suffered through that. But thank you for being brave enough to tell me. I can take special care to stay in touch now, alright?”

“Thank you,” you told him sniffing as the tears started to die down. "I just worry. You get so stressed trying to make everything perfect, and I don't want it to all get too much for you."

"I promise I will never get that stressed," he assured you, still holding you tight. "Especially knowing I have you looking out for me."

Eunhyuk

When you walked into the dance studio and saw Eunhyuk alive and well, you breathed a sigh of relief. Knowing that he knew about your past, you knew he’d have a good excuse.

Once he’d finished talking to the guys, he jogged over to you.

“Hey, jagi,” he greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t replying to me,” you told him. “I had to make sure you were ok.”

His face fell, realising what your words implied. He tried not to make too big of a deal or overreact because he knew you wouldn’t want to make a scene. It was a private matter and not something the other guys needed to be privy to.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’ve been trying to help Leeteuk keep an eye on everyone and get the dance moves down. You know how much Leeteuk stresses.”

You smiled. “I know. But I know you’ve been stressed too. Don’t overdo it, please. I quite like having you for a boyfriend.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he told you with a hug. “Now why don’t you go home, and I’ll come by after practice and you can help me destress,” he winked.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s a good job I love you, Lee Hyukjae.”

“I’m a lucky man,” he replied, giving you a quick kiss, before returning to his work.

Donghae

You marched into the studio and straight up to your boyfriend.

“Have you not checked your phone?” you asked immediately, not even saying hello first.

As much as you were pleased to find him ok, you were a little annoyed to find him laughing and joking with his members, instead of actually working. You would have been more understanding if he’d not seen your call because he was busy preparing for the comeback.

“Yes, why?” he asked. Knowing full well that he had three texts and a missed call from you.

“I’ve been trying to get hold of you.”

“I know.”

You snapped at that point. “You know? What do you mean you know? If you know you should answer! Or is this your way of trying to dump me, because I swear Donghae, if you knew… What if…” you trailed off as your anger gave way to tears and Donghae quickly wrapped his arms around you to comfort you.

“It was a prank,” he told you. “I wanted to see how you’d react. I didn’t expect it to end like this.”

“I thought you’d died,” you squeaked.

“What?” he asked in surprise. “Why would you think that? What’s going on?”

You shook your head.

“Babe, I’m sorry that I’ve upset you it was never my intention. But I need you to tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it and make sure it never happens again.”

You gestured to the rest of the guys, some of whom were clearly listening in, and Donghae got your meaning, pulling you out of the room. Once free from his nosy members, he gave you an expectant look.

You quickly recounted the bare minimum of what he needed to know.

“I never meant to scare you,” he said softly.

“I know, I’m sorry I yelled.”

“No it’s fine, of course you shouted at me. I promise it won’t happen again. There may be a delay in my replying if I’m halfway through something, but I won’t knowingly ignore you.”

“Thank you for understanding,” you told him, before he pulled you in for another hug.

Siwon

When you finally tracked Siwon down you found him talking to someone on his phone. You walked over to him and weakly slapped his arm.

“I’ve got to go, thank you so much,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the phone before hanging up. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“You’re on your phone,” you pointed out in a more aggressive tone than you had intended.

“Yes, I was,” Siwon confirmed, very confused.

“So, you’ve seen my messages and you’re just choosing to ignore me?”

“No, no, I’m not ignoring you, I’m just… busy.”

“Not too busy to take other people’s calls.”

“I was busy because I was making the call,” he tried to explain. “I didn’t realise you needed an urgent reply. Is there something else going on?”

Having seen your texts, Siwon had assumed you were just checking in and couldn’t work out why it was such a big deal that he hadn’t replied straight away.

“No, you first, what are you hiding?” you asked, crossing your arms defensively.

Siwon hesitated, making it clear there was something he wasn’t telling you. “I’m actually planning a surprise for you,” he admitted with a sigh. “I realise being an idol in the middle of a comeback makes me a rather lousy boyfriend and I wanted to make up for it.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “I’m not good with surprises,” you mumbled.

Siwon just stepped closer to you, seeing that you had now calmed down. “It’s not going to be anything over the top, and it only involves the two of us. I know you aren’t a big fan of too much attention,” he explained. “Now, can you tell me why you were so upset?” he asked you, gently rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone.

You nodded and quickly explained that you had panicked and why. “Can you tell me what you are planning?” you added with a slight pout.

Siwon sighed. “Will it make you feel better?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Tomorrow evening, I’m taking you out to dinner,” he told you. “I’ve bought out the whole restaurant for the night, so it will literally be just us. It’s an excuse to get a bit dressed up, which we haven’t done for a while, and you won’t have to worry about staring.”

With a small smile, you looked up at him with tears forming in your eyes. “That’s a really lovely surprise,” you told him.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tight. “You’re really special to me, and I want you to know that. Whenever I picture a future, you’re in it, so I’m really pleased you’ve opened up to me today. Now I can make sure not to worry you again.”

Ryeowook

When you arrived at the practice room, hoping you’d find you boyfriend well and rehearsing, even though you worried you wouldn’t, your worry just took on a whole new form.

Ryeowook was sat watching the rehearsal with his leg raised and an ice pack on his ankle. Completely forgetting that you were probably interrupting you rushed over to him.

“Wook, what happened?”

“Hey,” he said in a surprised tone when he noticed you. “I just twisted my ankle while dancing. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been trying to get hold of you. You weren’t answering so I panicked,” you told him.

He knew what you meant straight away.

“Ah, my phone is over there with all my stuff,” he said pointing. “I’m not ignoring you, I always try to respond, and I’m sorry I couldn’t get to my phone.”

“I know, it’s ok, you’re injured,” you assured him. “At least my panic wasn’t totally uncalled for though.”

He smiled at you in a comforting manner before turning to his members.

“Guys, do we think y/n could stay with me while I watch the choreography?” he asked.

“That’s not a bad idea,” agreed Leeteuk. “Stops me worrying about you as much.”

You laughed slightly, before quickly pulling another chair over to where your boyfriend was sat and taking his hand in yours.

“And now you’ll worry less because you know I’m right here,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Thank you,” you said softly, pleased your boyfriend could support you through moments like this.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “And thank you for caring enough about me to worry.”

Kyuhyun

You had assumed the guys were doing dance rehearsals, so when you arrived at their usual studio only to find it empty, your panic increased. You pulled out your phone, trying Kyuhyun again. You cursed multiple time times listening to the ring before hanging up at his voicemail message.

Out of desperation you pulled up your contacts to call one of the other guys, which ended up being Donghae.

“Y/n?” he answered immediately.

“Thank god,” you sighed in relief at managing to get hold of someone. “Is Kyuhyun with you?”

Donghae laughed slightly, “Yeah, has the idiot not taken his phone off silent?”

“I can’t get hold of him.”

Donghae quickly passed his phone to Kyuhyun, sensing you weren’t in the mood for a general chat with him.

“Kyuhyun! I have been trying to get hold of you all morning. What the hell is going on?” you yelled as soon as you heard him on the other end.

“Calm down, we’ve been in meetings all morning, so my phones been on silent, and now we’re grabbing lunch before a quick practice and then schedules,” he explained. “What’s so important?”

“Nothing. I mean, it’s not- I-,” you could feel yourself suddenly struggling for breath.

“Ok, it’s clearly not nothing,” your boyfriend said, recognising the signs of your panic attack even over the phone. “Where are you?”

“Dance studio,” you just about managed to tell him.

“I’m only two roads over, I’ll be right there, just keep breathing.”

With that Kyuhyun hung up, giving Donghae his phone back and rushing out of the restaurant.

By the time  he reached you you had calmed down slightly, just telling yourself over and over that he was fine, and he was alive.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, as soon as he reached you, knowing that physical contact didn’t always help when you were in this state.

You nodded giving him permission to pull you into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get your messages. Do you want to tell me brought this on?”

“I thought,” your voice shook as you spoke. “I thought, maybe, I’d lost you.”

“Lost me?” he asked.

You did your best to recount losing your best friend and Kyuhyun just held you tighter.

“I wish you’d told me sooner,” he sighed. “We’ve all lost people, I understand.”

After a moments silence between you, he spoke again. “Are you hungry?”

You nodded.

“I didn’t finish my meal either,” he told you. “Let’s go eat together, and I’ll let Leeteuk know I’ll catch up with them at schedules.”

“No, you can’t. Your work,” you protested.

“Right now, you are more important than practice. I’ve done the important boring meetings, and I’ll be there later for the recordings, they can rehearsals do without me for a couple of hours.”

You finally smiled then, holding him a little tighter, before pulling away and letting him lead you to your favourite restaurant for lunch.

NAVIGATION  |  SUPER JUNIOR MASTERLIST

[sourbat]

Here’s a quick little ficlet where Skwisgaar and Toki discuss the proper treatment and training of yard wolves, and Skwisgaar learning that he isn’t the most reliable pack member of the group.

Rating: General

Warnings: references to “Bookklok” and implied trauma

Read it on Ao3

or just “read more” below :D

A yard wolf mother died at the hands of a stray bullet, leaving behind five young pups. Though Offdensen was a staunch believer of the old saying “survival of the fittest,” Skwisgaar took it upon himself to help raise and socialize the orphans until they were old enough for proper training. There were no complaints amongst the band, and the first few weeks of mostly nursing and playing went by smoothly. Then, during one afternoon, Skwisgaar got wise to a wily pup who was busy attacking and biting his sister’s ear into a bloody pulp.

Skwisgaar silently observed the scene, the larger male nipping and taking advantage of his submissive companion. While some might regard the aggressive behavior as a positive trait, Skwisgaar focused entirely on the female’s obvious signs of displeasure, and the male ignoring her pleas in favor of a quick power high. Carefully and swiftly, Skwisgaar swooped in and grabbed the pup by the snout. With his thumb and forefinger, he closed the tiny jaw shut, then rolled the upset thing onto his back where it tried to wriggle free. Aware of the continued defiance, Skwisgaar applied some weight and forced the pup into place.

As it whimpered and fought to be free of its new submissive position, Toki took interest and broke from the gang’s activities to check on Skwisgaar.

“You ams hurtings him,” he quietly suggested, as if ashamed for even bringing up the issue, or out of fear that the other members of Dethklok might notice their lead guitarist’s less than acceptable behavior.

“Just stoppins him from biting withouts permissions,” Skwisgaar replied while keeping his hold. “Ams more humiliatinks than anytinks else.”

“Nots very nice,” Toki remarked, sounding more offended than the pup.

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes. “Sometimes ams not abouts be-inks nice.”

Below, the young wolf’s tail began to vigorously sway, as though it were nervously considering this act by his foster a game. Perhaps he saw Toki and figured he might be saved from the awkward predicament.

Skwisgaar refused to budge. He stared the dog down, eyes chasing and locking with the pups’ whenever it so much as tried to whimper and cry in Toki’s direction. Eventually, after Toki joined the sounds of complaints, the puppy emitted another soft plea, and then went limp.

Toki’s shadow fretted above, finger pulling at the other as Skwisgaar counted down before finally breaking from his fierce glower and hold.

“He doesn’t likes it,” he heard Toki comment.

“He needs to learn to controls himself, Tokis,” Skwisgaar calmly insisted.

He watched the small wolf turn limp and submissive, and finally released his grip. As he had hoped, the pup remained fixed in place, wild amber eyes locked onto Skwisgaar and awaiting permission to crawl back and join his pack mates. Satisfied, he smiled, and backed from the puppy, letting Toki observe the small beast quickly recover and scamper off, tucked tail already lifting the moment he was out of grabbing range.

When Skwisgaar turned, he saw Toki retracting awkwardly before providing an overenthusiastic nod. His eyes, however, were very much on litter, and when Skwisgaar tried to invite Toki close with a smile, earned a slightly dismayed pout instead. He brought a hand to his dusty elbow, rubbing it consciously as Skwisgaar made yet another glance at the pups.

He couldn’t guess what irked Toki so much, so he asked, “Thinks I hurts his snouts?”

Toki’s face hardened. “Thinks you hurts his feelinks when you humiliatics him.”

Skwisgaar found the suggestion amusing, but refrained from being nasty. It would be easy to poke fun at how his rhythm guitarist applied human thoughts and feelings to that of a beast. And was Toki so hurt because he felt sorry for the pup? Did he not witness the damage the young wolf caused?

“It ams better to have his feelinks hurt now,” Skwisgaar stated firmly, “otherwise, he will gets reckless and gets his pack hurts.” He stared at Toki, then turned to watch the pup return to his sister to lick the wounds he had caused. “Sometimes we needs to be hard on the ones we cares about, Tokis. We needs them to be betters,  understands?”

Toki’s head sank. He looked doubtful. Skwisgaar didn’t hold it against him. It was so easy to focus on the present, on immediate pleasures and momentary, fanciful whims. That was all Toki knew. He lived in a world of luxury. It seemed cruel to forcibly keep a pup’s mouth shut, glare at it while teaching it to submit. But it was for a greater cause. The pup attacked a member of his pack. Maybe to Toki, it was nothing more than an accident, but in the grander scheme of things, such rebellious acts would get in the way of the pack’s wellbeing.

A light clicked. It occurred to Skwisgaar why Toki would feel bad for a disobedient pack member. Toki likely saw himself in the animal: reckless, thoughtless and desperate for control. Skwisgaar couldn’t count the times he had to put Toki in his place, remind him who was the lead guitarist, or pull him out of some ridiculous situation that he’d gotten himself into. The rhythm guitarist who wanted more creative control, but couldn’t be bothered to practice more or offer any input during recording. Toki saw himself in that male wolf and empathized with his terrible blunder, reliving those embarrassing times Skwisgaar caught him woefully unprepared.

“Don’ts worry,” Skwisgaar said. He stood up and continued to watch the small litter return to their play. “He wills be okays. He wills…gets over it.”

It sounded far crueler than intended, but there was no going back from it. Skwisgaar didn’t see any reason to, and began readjusting his guitar strap.

“Did you “gets over it” when I humiliatics you?”

The question struck like a hard blow to the gut, mentally upper-cutting an unsuspecting Skwisgaar and leaving him hopelessly at a loss for words.

“No,” Skwisgaar finally managed once most of the memories of the event had subsided. “But dat ams–”

His first inclination was to point out the difference between the two; however, after reliving those traumatic few weeks once more, Skwisgaar withheld from concluding his thoughts.

Though a memory now, the reminder proved its weight and pushed all the air out of him in the form of a heavy, uneven sigh. His composure teetered, and although they were out in the private haven that was Mordhaus’ fields, Skwisgaar avoided Toki and the band in the far distance to hide his immediate reaction. Shaken and misty-eyed, Skwisgaar faced the small collection of wolf pups and homed in on the young male he had disciplined in front of Toki.

Skwisgaar didn’t think he resembled the older male. True, he’d been hard on Toki in the past, and made their shared rehearsals difficult, but that was only because he had high standards.

The pervasive thought lingered, festering the longer Skwisgaar had his sights on the animal. Standards or not, Skwisgaar knew there was more to him berating Toki than he let on. It was years of mediocrity, of performing well below his skill in bands that didn’t go anywhere, of going from band to band, from teacher to teacher, of being told by his last  lead guitarist that his creative input wasn’t wanted, and–

And following that, years of his insecurities and obsessive compulsive desire to stay on top quashing any hope for Toki to step outside his shadow, lest Skwisgaar repeat the cycle again. And where did that get him? A spot in the New York’s Times best sellers, and for all the wrong reasons. Things between the two had gotten better since the books were pulled, but Skwisgaar couldn’t deny that it still haunted him.

All because he couldn’t bear the thought of supporting Toki and letting him play a solo in front of an adoring crowd.

Skwisgaar faced Toki. Nervous, and still recovering from the memories, he grappled the neck of his guitar, letting the strings underneath his grip scrape into him.

“Skwisgaars?” Toki neared, taking him by the arm. “Ams sorry. Didn’t’s means to brings–”

“I learneds my lesson. And…” Skwisgaar stared hard at the ground. It didn’t stop the heat from rising out his face, the pain from constricting his throat. Toki tugged his arm. Slowly, Skwisgaar lifted his head, the hurt in his eyes uninhibited and blaring. “Tokis…I dids not like it whens you humiliatics me.”

Toki shriveled before him. “Skwisgaar, I ams so sorries.”

“Ams ok. I shoulds hab knowns better,” he said, tearing his hands from his guitar to stop Toki from shrinking any further. He fought past the stings of his wounded pride and misguided anger, and faced the bitter truth as best he could. Again, staring at the earth did little to help stave away the pain, but this time Skwisgaar had Toki by his side. Toki was still shaken, but it seemed he knew they both needed some help keeping things together.

With the other’s help, they walked to a nearby and empty table, the litter of pups and a few klokateers trailing not too far behind.

“I should habs been a better members of the packs and lets you plays a solo.” Skwisgaar sighed, eyes rifting from the wolves to his guitar. He had half the mind to play. Something to distract from the pain. With Toki waiting and calming down in front of him, he broke habit and clasped his hands together.

“I will also tries to finds a different ways to train the yard wolves,” he added, feeling the pangs of guilt and tarnished ego subside once Toki’s expression eased into acceptance.

“Okays.”

They made a glance at the pups in the distance. Skwisgaar watched the male he had punished stop and stare at him, then returned to his chase. Amongst the yips and barks, he spotted the quiet female at the edge of the pack, her bloodied ear now drying. Skwisgaar knew he’d have to make it right on her behalf, fix her ear and teach her to defend herself if she was to survive training.

Consequently, he owed Toki the same opportunity for success.  

Skwisgaar drew a finger, and let it glide along one of his strings. As it vibrated a silent note, he willed the courage to face Toki and add, “And…if you gets over freezinks ups, I will gives you solos the next time we plays.”

Toki’s eyes practically glowed. “You means it?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“Ja. What ams teams-mates for?” Skwisgaar said. He wanted to tack on more, go as far to suggest that he’d try to help Toki face a demanding crowd, but refrained. A history of bad music lessons and bullying, not to mention the remaining members of the band picking up on the fact they’d been away for so long, kept Skwisgaar going too far from his comfort zone. But that didnt mean the idea was off the table. Once he picked up a new method of training, and Toki had proof he wasn’t going to go back on his word, he’d mention the idea.

If he was worthy enough, Toki would accept him as an instructor.

“Thanks you, Skwisgaars!” The embrace arrived quicker than Skwisgaar could defend himself from. Still sitting, his guitar pressed into his chest, and Skwisgaar wheezed a slight gasp while Toki gratefully squeezed the life from him. “I promise Toki will do betters.”

“Ams fine. Just promise not to tells the others I gots… emoskinals.”

Toki broke into a little chuckle, then let go of Skwisgaar. Murderface called for Toki to return to the table and roll the die, and finish his turn. He raced ahead of Skwisgaar, leaving him to the purple glades and perpetual mist that accompanied the fields, but not before sending a final, optimistic glance at his lead. Skwisgaar watched it come and go, like so many others, but couldn’t shake the feeling that this time Toki was going to uphold this promise.

A sharp cry pulled Skwisgaar away from the table, and to two of the young yard wolves fighting and causing quite the stir amongst the litter.

Only times will tells, Skwisgaar thought, then set out into the fog to return to the wolves.

[highly-flammable]

Reacting to Legacies 3x03 (SPOILERS):

1. So ARE we FINALLY getting to some proper firstborn Mikaelson witch breakdowns?

2. Oh well, apparently no. They'll just try to wave it off as some one time thing probably.

3. So Hope and Landon are on a break. Okay. TBH watching them sass each other is interesting.

4. The guidance counselor is pretty much a compulsion monster, is that it? Well, I do like his wardrobe.

5. Alyssa's concern for MG is so fake I can't.

6. Nobody other than Jed read for Stefan? THE DISRESPECT.

7. Lizzie playing Caroline makes total sense but them asking Josie to play the lead without even an audition looks a bit bad TBH. Like, give the other interested people a chance, at least.

8. I find it a bit repetitive how there are mind-controlling monsters popping out again and again.

9. So MG is basically going through a phase similar to what Cami was going through when Klaus used to compel her at the beginning of TO. Considering Quincy's fondness for Cami, he must have liked playing that.

10. I understand that Landon is supposed to be a capable songwriter in-universe but it takes more than that to write and direct a musical and it's very weird that they didn't even find a guest star to pose as a Drama or English teacher who is guiding him or something. WHERE ARE ALL THE TEACHERS?

11. I kinda feel like some of the lead characters in this show are colour-coded. I see Hope and Landon in red and blue a lot (the two gowns we have seen Hope wearing also fall into this pattern) and Josie wears yellow in like, every other episode. If I recall correctly, Lizzie wears a lot of white, too. I wonder what the reasoning behind these choices are.

12. Well, I liked Hope and Landon's relationship in S1, I have no idea what was going on with it in S2, and I still don't know what to think about it.

13. Lizzie casts herself in Caroline's role and then chokes at rehearsal. Not totally unrealistic but still feels a bit forced to me. Would have been better if Landon cast her because she's Caroline's daughter and Lizzie was a bit apprehensive in the first place because she didn't want to mess up the role.

14. I appreciate the show taking a moment to talk about Lizzie's bipolar disorder though. It's been a while.

15. "Bonnie just disappears for long periods of time"? Dude, she's still super important and you're putting her in the play. Right? RIGHT?!

16. Landon, THANK YOU for pointing out how weird Caroline and Alaric's relationship was. The guy deadass got engaged to her and had a pissing contest over her with Stefan, that will never not gross me out.

17. So the monster is mind controlling Landon to put Klaus into the play. Saw this coming IG.

18. Hope is painting again, like her dad used to do when he felt things were going out of control. I've been rewatching TO and this is making me so emotional. I MISS KLAUS AND HIS SHENANIGANS. And not a single character on Legacies comes close to Klaus, Elijah and Hayley for me. (Sorry if this hurts anyone's feelings but Legacies really is a downgrade from TVD and TO)

19. Ugh, why would he use the contents of the letter as lyrics? Dude, is it because you're mind-controlled? No, I don't like this. Klaus loved Hope to the ends of the earth and wanted everyone to know but Hope wants to keep things private, and her wishes should have been respected.

20. So apparently Landon tries not to put Klaus' villainous antics into the show. Well, okay, it's definitely a copout but since he is Hope's boyfriend, makes sense. But I don't understand why the musical HAS TO BE about the Salvatore school. The accreditation excuse is lazy, writers! Also, Landon, my dude, Klaus was a major donor of the school. Put that in instead of the other things, stop pissing off your girlfriend FFS. Even if you're mind-controlled 🤦🏻‍♀️

21. I do find it funny how Landon is all gaga over Klaus' use of language though. The guy really did have the best lines, didn't he? (Tied with Elijah, I suppose, for me)

22. The other singers of the first song are really good so Kaylee sounds a bit rusty in comparison. Also, she reminds me too much of Dark!Josie with the hair and makeup. From a distance, she can be mistaken for Nina though.

23. I love that the backstage activities are being shown.

24. I'm digging Jed as Stefan and I really like his singing voice. And the Hero Hair wig cracked me up. Kaleb is obviously good at singing at it's nice to hear more from him. I also like how Chris Lee didn't try to exactly emulate Ian and played Damon how someone who has only heard about him might play him.

25. Is Hope painting herself before the pit or something? Or is this supposed to symbolize her despair at her parents' loss? ALSO, I WANT SOMEONE TO MENTION HAYLEY :( Why is Hayley so ignored?!

26. The same person probably wrote MG's notes and Caroline's letter IRL and therefore, in-universe, MG has Caroline's handwriting and it's funny to me.

27. Jenny sings well, I like it. I don't understand the song though, was Caroline actually ever feeling this insecure? I feel like the song became a lot more about Lizzie than her mother. (It's been forever since I watched TVD, if anyone has yet to guess, I prefer watching TO)

28. The doppelganger thing cracked me up.

29. Wait why did the monster attack Josie?! Ohhhh he's forcing Landon to improvise and put Klaus' song at the end. Well, I guess it makes it seem a bit less like Landon's fault. But would Hope know that?

30. It's hilarious how they lowkey make a call back to Nina leaving TVD and them having to put Elena in a sleep spell though.

31. Landon having a hissy fit is funny to me. Aria needs more comedic scenes.

32. Wait, where did Jade come from? Has she been in the school all these weeks?

33. While the scene seems a bit shabby to me, Klaus talking to Hope reminds me of their scene from TO 4X03. I needed more of Summer Fontana and Joseph Morgan together. Also, the donation did get mentioned, YASSSS. Man did some horrific things but he did fund the school so maybe a little less badmouthing in the presence of his daughter now that you know the story, eh, students?

34. The fact that the guidance counselor actually wore a leather jacket and a henley is cracking me up. It's really bizarre.

35. "Terrible painter" XD Klaus would have eaten you for saying that if he were alive.

36. Um, Hope, wouldn't you ask your family if you are doing enough to make your father proud, instead of this random bloke who supposedly met him once?! Maybe call Freya or Rebekah.

37. Why is this monster being nice to Hope? Doesn't it try to break people up or something? You'd think he'd try to piss her off even more and ruin her relationship with Landon.

38. Stefan was trying to be more like Damon by sacrificing himself? Um, what?

39. Well, this musical at least gave Stefan and Caroline a goodbye scene. I wonder how much the twins remember Stefan, must have been a bit emotional for Lizzie to play that. Jenny's singing was gooood, really liked it.

40. JED WAS GONNA KISS LIZZIE AND I WANTED IT TO HAPPEN. But a forehead kiss does work.

41. Hope's playing Elena now? What?

42. Ngl I want Hope and Jed to be friends. She needs more of a connection to her wolf side. Both of her parents wanted her to be surrounded by wolves and she's barely interacting with the wolves in this show, which always makes me sad.

43. So this monster can also do little spells and move physical objects eh? Whatever, this is random.

44. And this monster brings people back together? Why?

45. So when Hope is singing, is she doing it as Elena or Hope? She came on stage as Elena, but I thought the song is about Hope. So WHAT IS IT?

46. Oh Damon's on stage, so Hope is singing as Elena and it's a call back to the graveyard scene from the TVD finale.

47. Danielle sings pretty well. It's good she decided to perform this time.

48. Okay, that lifting up scene was adorable. I feel like Hope and Landon are at their cutest when they're a bit spontaneous. But she's Elena on stage and it lowkey looks like Landon crashed her romantic scene with Damon to kiss her so I'm cackling.

49. How much older is Jade supposed to be than Josie?

50. So is Josie going to leave the school for a while and that's why Ethan will be back in the picture?

51. Jade used to babysit Josie? Okay, it is hella awkward.

52. Josie why, don't do this, yikes. Kissing her once doesn't make it non-creepy.

53. The Sheriff feels kinda shoehorned to me. Also, I don't care for Matt Davis or his character.

54. So Candice did the voiceover for Caroline's letter. That's nice for the show. I still don't understand why the letter showed up in Hope's fireplace though LOL.

55. This episode should have spent more time exploring the aftermath of the loss of Rafael. The abrupt shift from the last episode wasn't nice.

56. Yeah, kids, talk out your problems, thanks.

57. I feel like Klaus is too much of a controversial figure that Hope's conflict about her father's reputation would be resolved in one day. This is feeling undercooked. Speaking of, when is one of Klaus' or Hayley's enemies coming after Hope, because she did inherit all of them. Would make for better storytelling than this monster of the week nonsense. And yeah, still no mention of Hayley, I hate this.

58. The monster's characterization was really odd to me and I am so tired of this format SMH.

59. So they toyed with MG for weeks to get a vampire for the spell? That sounds like too much effort. There are tons of vampires from Klaus and Rebekah's bloodline, they couldn't find another? Also, I wonder who is the wolf that they will use.

Well, I felt like this episode was mostly okay, but not that well-cooked or epic or whatever. What is horrific is that they didn't show Bonnie, though. They could have at least gotten a female black guest character who is one of the witch students or something. This is very offensive.

Also, I don't think it makes sense for the show to do any more musicals in the future. This ain't Riverdale.

[nonbinary-octopus]

Not Just the Two of Us  Chapter 1: Confession

Summary: Roman's boyfriend is the best. Really. So why can't he shake this crush?

Wordcount: 1.7 K

A shoutout to @magpiemorality for the title! Thanks, Magpie!

[Masterpost]

[More of my writing]

~~~

“Okay,” Roman muttered to himself, getting the coffee grounds out and measuring careful, level scoops into the coffee machine — five scoops of the regular grounds and one scoop of the hazelnut ones, exactly how Logan liked it. “Best case scenario.” He took a deep breath. “Best case scenario. Logan isn’t upset. He tells me how to fix this. We move on, and it’s like nothing ever happened. It’s a… hm. It’s a one.” Roman poured the water into the machine and turned it on. “Worst case scenario.” He winced. “Logan immediately dumps me, and then he calls our friends and tells them and they friend-dump me, and I’m alone forever.” Roman grimaced and opened the freezer. “That’s a one too, though. Or less,” he added, getting out the box of frozen waffles. “Most likely scenario,” Roman continued, putting a waffle in each slot of the toaster and pushing the lever down. “Logan is hurt. But he thanks me for being honest and— and says it was brave of me to come to him with this. Then he tells me how to fix it, or we figure it out together, and then we put it behind us and move on. Not as if it never happened, but we’re still happy together. That’s a… an eight, at least. Maybe even a nine, but that’s pushing it.” Finally, Roman filled the teakettle with water and set it on the stove. He nodded to himself. Although there was still a ball of nervous energy resting in the pit of his stomach, he felt that he could do this. He got out a pair of mugs, putting a teabag in his and leaving Logan’s empty.

Logan came in just as the kettle began to sing. “Good morning, love,” he greeted.

“Good morning!” Roman answered, taking the kettle off the stove. As Logan crossed the kitchen, Roman poured hot water in his own mug and coffee into Logan’s. He passed it over, and Logan took a moment to observe as stars appeared on what had previously been a plain black mug. Roman bobbed his teabag up and down in the hot water, watching the color seep out.

“Something is on your mind,” Logan noted.

Roman nodded. “Mm-hm.”

“Care to tell me what it is?”

“Let me give you breakfast first.” Roman turned away, pulling the warm waffles from the toaster and placing them on a plate. He spread them with butter and Logan’s favorite jam, trying to calm his heart rate. It had spiked up again at the thought of what he had to confess.

When he turned back around, he thought he had himself under control. Logan had sat down at their small breakfast-nook table and was sipping his coffee. Roman sat down across from him with his tea and set the plate of waffles between them.

“Thank you,” Logan said fondly, picking up one waffle. Roman watched him take a bite, and as Logan chewed, Roman opened his mouth to confess.

“Let me preface this by saying that I love you,” Roman said. “I’ve never been happier than when I’ve been with you.”

“I love you too,” Logan answered sincerely. He didn’t ask what was wrong, and Roman appreciated that.

“I also want to say that it was an accident,” Roman added. “I didn’t mean to, and I was trying to fix it by myself, but I can’t, so I need your help. And I understand if you get upset, but please let me say my bit before you answer.”

Logan nodded seriously. He put the waffle and his coffee down, clasping his hands around the mug and giving Roman his full attention. “Alright.”

Roman took a deep breath. He’d rehearsed in his head what he wanted to say, and though he was feeling more than a little stage fright now that it came down to it, he remembered his lines. Quickly, almost rushing through the words, he said, “I have a crush. On someone else. I didn’t do it on purpose, and I haven’t acted on it, of course, and it doesn’t lessen the love I have for you in the slightest, but it’s there and I don’t know how to get rid of it.”

Roman finished abruptly, and silence hung between them for a few seconds as Logan first waited a moment to be sure Roman had finished speaking, and then processed what he had said.

“You have a crush on someone else,” Logan repeated. He didn’t sound upset, and not in his deliberately calm, upset-but-hiding-it sort of way that most people couldn’t tell from the real thing.

Roman nodded.

“And you wish to be rid of these feelings?”

“Yes!” Roman exclaimed. “Like I said, I’m very happy with you, and I don’t want to change that! I’ve been trying to be a good, faithful boyfriend and ignore the way I felt about Virgil, but the feelings only got stronger and stronger and I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, one way to be rid of an unwanted attraction is to gain closure,” Logan said. “Attempting to wish feelings away can be unfruitful when some part of you, however small, believes that a relationship might be possible. By informing your crush of your feelings for them, and being told concretely that they do not reciprocate, you are emotionally freed to move on.”

“Does that work?”

Logan shrugged. “In theory. I tried it on you, and you immediately deviated from the conversation I had anticipated.”

Roman was stunned speechless for a few seconds. Finally, he said, “You asked me out so that I would reject you?”

“Actually, I did not ask you out at all,” Logan corrected. “I informed you of my feelings toward you, and then you asked me out.”

“Should I have not done that?” Roman asked, feeling worried all over again.

“On the contrary,” Logan assured him. “I quite prefer dating you over not dating you. I simply had not expected you to reciprocate my feelings. I was quite pleased to be proven wrong.”

“I didn’t,” Roman admitted. “I mean, I loved you, but in a friend way, not a gay way. I mean, I am gay, so everything I do is always gay, but I wasn’t in love with you yet. That started during our first date.”

“Oh,” Logan said. He tilted his head slightly to the side and raised his eyes, clearly thinking back to the beginning of their relationship.

“What should I do about my crush on Virgil?” Roman asked, pulling Logan out of his recollections. “I could try the get rejected plan, but what if he doesn’t?”

Logan returned the question. “What would happen if you told him you were in love with him, and he reciprocated?”

Roman frowned. “I am not going to cheat on you with one of our best friends,” he nearly snapped.

“I am not suggesting that you do so,” Logan answered calmly. “Roman, have you ever heard of polyamory?”

Roman thought about it, his frown lightening slightly. “No. What is it?”

“The word comes from the greek polús or poly, meaning ‘many,’ and the latin amor, meaning ‘love,’” Logan began, “and is defined as the practice of or desire for an intimate relationship with more than one partner, with the consent of all parties involved.”

Roman blinked. “You can do that?”

“Yes, so long as everyone involved is aware of and consents to the polyamorous status of the relationship. Without that, then it does become cheating, but with proper consent and communication, a polyamorous relationship can be just as healthy and happy as any other relationship.”

Roman thought he could see where Logan was going with this, but he didn’t quite want to say it out loud yet. Instead, he asked, “So like being in a couple, but there are three people instead of two? And they’re all dating each other?”

“Yes, that is one example of a polyamorous relationship,” Logan agreed, giving Roman a smile. “It’s called an equal triad. Another example involving three people is called a vee. Rather than all three partners dating each other, one is simultaneously dating the other two, who are not dating each other.”

“Wouldn’t they get jealous of each other, if they’re both dating the same person?”

“It is possible,” Logan said. “However, in a polyamorous relationship, the members make an effort to practice compersion rather than jealousy. That is, they recognize that their partner’s other partner brings them joy, and so they are glad for the happiness their metamor — that is, their partner’s partner — brings their mutual partner.”

Roman must have been making a confused face, because Logan changed tactics. “Consider it like this: I myself am neutral on most disney movies. However, I have a certain fondness for your collection, because they make you happy, and I like seeing you happy. I am not jealous of the love you bestow upon those films, but rather, I appreciate them for the joy they bring into your life. Similarly, were you to start dating Virgil — in a way that was polyamorous rather than cheating, of course — I believe that I would not be jealous of him either, or upset that I had to ‘share’ you, but pleased that you were feeling joy due to that relationship.”

“Oh.”

Logan gave Roman a very gentle smile. “Do you think that you would like to pursue a romantic relationship with Virgil?”

“I mean…” Roman hesitated. “Yeah? I think so? If… if you’re really okay with it…”

“I think you should ask him out.” Logan picked up his coffee again, taking a long sip. Roman was quiet, and Logan added, “You may want to take some time first to further sort out your feelings with this added information, and that is quite understandable. I know that this wasn’t the direction you expected this conversation to take. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

Roman nodded. “Thanks, Logan.”

“Any time, my love.”

Roman could feel himself blushing. To not have to say anything, he grabbed one of the waffles off the plate between them, taking a big bite.

~~~~~

Chapter 2: Making Plans

[magicalforcesau]

Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 21 - Year 2: May

(ao3 link)

Palpatine would never expect his morning to start with something as pathetic as tripping over a potted plant upon entering his office. He managed not to fall, and bit back a sneer as he kicked the damned thing over. Someone had been in here… He could tell even if it wasn’t explicitly obvious. Not a single thing seemed out of place, but as he studied his desk it seemed to have been moved. Now that he mentioned it, everything in the room had been moved ever so slightly to the left, just enough to cause suspicion and clearly just enough to cause him to stumble like a newborn deer.

“Maul,” He growled, waving his wand in search of any hidden surprises, but had the madman tried to set any curses, his alarms would surely have been set off. Yes, he’d known he was close and had his suspicions that he was in the building.

A few days ago, the leeches had been let out of the potion storage. The Slytherin students hadn’t been very thrilled when several of them were found in their beds. Palpatine had dealt with it, regardless of how he’d prefer his house learn to deal with such trivial matters themselves.

The Slytherins he went to school with were much braver than the cowards of today.

Such an event he could chalk up to an accident, or a student lurking where they shouldn’t be. Yet even still, he found it unlikely that the leeches found their way into the common room on their own.

Of course he was the only one with such suspicions. The braindead ministry dogs stationed outside of the school had nary a clue to where Maul was at any given time. Maul would have to do nothing short of waltzing up to them in handcuffs before they’d realize what was right in front of them. With the sloppy way Maul was presenting himself, it was even more damning.

Even more useless were the pitiful dementors that couldn’t seem to find him even if he’d announced himself front and center. Though truthfully, Palpatine had some theories on that.

Maul had gotten soft in his time away it seemed, reduced to petty pranks and trickery like the student he’d never fully been. His former apprentice had never been particularly focused, becoming the killing machine of his namesake easily and with little prompting. Now, after many years to stew in the place where most lost their minds if not their souls, he refused to move his sights off of Skywalker.

Palpatine waved his wand again, righting his office to its proper position. He would not fall prey to such a mundane task as moving furniture, not when he had much bigger fish to fry. He walked around his desk staring a hole through the daily prophet left sitting there, Maul’s wanted poster still front and center.

If his former apprentice wanted to waste his time riling him up, he could do as he so pleased. Palpatine had worked too hard and too long to bring his plans into fruition. When he finally got his hands on him, Maul would learn to regret even the slightest action against him. 

***

“Did that exam feel…” Satine paused, still in shock as they put greater distance between themselves and the courtyard.

“Short?” Obi-Wan finished for her, clearly still reeling from the same level of unease over the whole matter. They’d all passed- even Hondo- but that hadn’t exactly been hard since despite all of the drills and practices they needed to run, the exam somehow only consisted of a simple apparition across the lawn and back. Such practices were normally not possible at Hogwarts, with the sole exception being when a class was being taught.

“Yeah,” She nodded, confusion still pouring off her in waves.

“Even I thought it was a little too easy,” Cody admitted, which felt like a true testament that Obi-Wan and Satine weren’t simply disappointed that they hadn’t been challenged, “Normally, you’d never hear me say that, but…”

“And this isn’t our typical Charms or History of Magic exam,” Obi-Wan said.

“This is something akin to a driver’s license.” Satine turned to both of them, “And I promise you that while not rocket science by any measure, the driver’s test at least tries to prove that you can do the basics.”

“Hondo fell on his bum when he landed and he still passed.” Obi-Wan added, concern knitting his brow. “Makes me a bit worried what sort of people they’re allowing to apparate.”

“That’s just it, my brothers told me about the apparition exam and they always said they made you run drills like they did in class.”

“I remember Qui-Gon saying something similar,” Satine bit her lip, “Do you think they did this because of everything going on?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Obi-Wan said and they continued walking, “Think about it, we were all out in the open, with a murderer on the loose. I bet they wanted to get it over with and usher us inside as fast as they could.”

“Then delay the test,” Satine shrugged, “I don’t get what the rush was to approve all of us.”

“Maybe it’s a means of escape,” Cody said darkly. “I just hope it doesn’t result in any other consequences. I don’t know if either of you have ever been splinched, but-”

“-It’s not comfortable,” Obi-Wan filled in a bit too quickly for either of his friend’s satisfaction. Particularly Satine looked concerned at how immediate his reaction had been. She’d heard of it, of course, but as a muggle-born, it never happened to her. Most of the time, according to Windu, it was clothes or hair lost to splinching, but there were instances when flesh was wounded.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat before either could comment, “I suppose the bright side is, we passed.”

Neither were so sure how bright it was.

***

Ventress has truly anticipated expulsion or at the very least, suspension, and maybe this would have been the case under Headmaster Yoda’s rule, but whether she deemed it lucky or not, she was receiving no such punishment with Palpatine.

“I hope you understand where you belong, Ventress and see that I have afforded you mercy because of your family.” Palpatine said in that smooth, light voice. His eyes spoke of a different story. Something haunted him or perhaps he was the one who'd done the haunting. He was lauded as the kindly old potions’ professor, but she knew from experience that one didn’t climb so high up the social ladder without breaking backs on one’s way.

Dooku was that way and she’d been one of the backs he’d broken. She wasn’t even a high peg on a ladder to him, just a meager foot stool. 

“Did you write them?” She asked, because it was always good to know when she’d be expecting a howler in the mail.

“Not yet,” He tsked, walking around his desk, “Though I suspect I won’t need to. Word travels fast enough.”

Yes, this cursed world did appreciate a show more than anything else. She had never expected hers to be deemed a pitiful tragedy- a failed villainous uprising. She’d hoped that when her story broke that she’d have the support and care of her sisters at either side. Instead, as always, Ventress was alone.

“What are you going to do with me, Headmaster?” She asked, looking up into his eyes. She didn’t feel remorse for her actions, per say, just that they were evidently in vain. Like any true Slytherin, she was willing to do whatever it took to achieve the means to an end. 

Part of her wanted expulsion or to be thrown away without the key. Anything, at the moment, seemed better than going back home and groveling and pretending that she was an abused victim. She wanted, with everything in her heavy bones, for this to be her narrative rather than the reality that she was nothing more than a bookend to Dooku’s and his master’s. She loathed the concept of being used, of being the victim, even if she knew her survival would depend on playing that role.

Palpatine watched her with almost serene calmness, like he could sense the way her thoughts bled. Nobody knew Palpatine’s story, because he kept that close to the chest. Ventress wondered if they ever would, even after death. 

Everyone had their secrets. 

And Ventress missed hers. 

“Well, I’m stripping you of all authority, for starters,” He said, walking around his desk to sit behind it again, “Seeing as you are still a minor, I’ve managed to convince the Ministry to not toss you into Azkaban. If and only if-”

If there was one thing Ventress hated more than pretending, it was negotiating, which was a large facet of the pureblood world. People negotiated the terms of courting rituals, business deals, even social events and how they would proceed. It was all one big set of terms and conditions. 

Even if she quite possibly still stood solely for her pure hatred for Dooku, she still couldn’t help but agree with some of those ideals. Would she abandon them in an effort to sabotage him? Yes, without hesitance. It was but another means to an end. She’d abandoned so much of what she knew already. It was only icing on the cake. 

“What?” She asked, keeping her hands cross in her lap to prevent herself from clawing at the desk between them.

“You must tell the aurors everything you know about Dooku,” He said sagely, but it was clearly rehearsed, quite possibly just before she came in, “And my dear, they will know if you’re lying.”

***

Despite the waning student population and the heightened anxieties surrounding Maul sightings in the area, they were still allowing the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. It seemed like a desperate grasping for normalcy from the staff members still trying to keep up morale. It didn’t feel very normal, however, when all four houses fit neatly within the bounds of the Gryffindor section of the field. The professors didn’t want everyone spread out and those with friends in other houses welcomed the opportunity to chat outside of class. Satine had positioned herself between Obi-Wan and Cody, they were sitting closest to the exit. She felt almost like she was being watched and kept glancing behind her, but there was no one there. Paranoia certainly.

“I hope Hufflepuff beats Slytherin,” Cody grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest, “It’s the only way to get Gryffindor back in the running.”

“I think that’s fairly unlikely,” Ben nodded towards the field, a soft glare on his face, “Ventress looks angry.”

“When doesn’t she,” Satine muttered, ignoring Ben as he turned his concerned eyes onto her.

She was willing to put the experience behind her. Though she doubted she’d ever forget what it felt like to be slowly turned to stone. The girl in question had lost her title as Quidditch captain, but had remained on the team. It seemed though, they hadn’t gotten around to choosing a new captain because Ventress still approached Breha to shake hands. So it was simply the matter of losing a title and not really a position. If in fact Headmaster Palpatine didn’t bother to enforce such things.

Then again, she always knew he favored purebloods.

“Shouldn’t even be allowed to play,” Cody crossed his arms, “She shouldn’t even be allowed to be here at all.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t haul her off to Azkaban.”

“Do you really think a child belongs on that foul island?” Because that’s what they were, children. Satine didn’t think that such a horrible punishment would be worth it for someone who likely only recently turned 17. For something so horrible to be done on her account as well? She couldn’t stand for it. She wanted Ventress to find peace and she certainly wouldn’t be able to move past being a pawn for Dooku behind bars.

“It’s starting!” Cody grinned and leaned forward. At least this time since they were stuck in the back she wouldn’t have to worry about keeping him from falling over the ledge.

***

“Hey, Professor! You coming to see the match?” Anakin asked.

Kit Fisto flashed them a bright smile, which came easily for him even with the rumors that it would be cancelled due to Maul’s lingering presence. Anakin found that he was having a more difficult time offering legitimate smiles these days. Never did he ever consider that Maul was capable of drawing so close to the school. 

“Just making sure there aren’t any stragglers, Anakin.” He said, “We’ve all got to stick together, after all.”

“Yeah, okay, but make sure you come watch! Gryffindor might not win the cup this year, but it would be pretty cool to see Ventress get beat by Hufflepuff. 

“There’s got to be some punishment for what she did to us,” Rex growled with a clenched fist.

“And what’s better than getting demolished by the worst team in Quidditch?” Anakin said cheerily, although Rex didn’t seem so sure that was appropriate. Neither did the few Hufflepuffs that shot him dirty looks as they passed.

In spite of this, Kit Fisto laughed, his long green tentacles wiggling as he did, “Yes, well, I’m sure Headmaster Palpatine won’t let her off completely scot free.”

“I think he just let her play because she’s a good player,” Anakin grumbled.

“Now, now, there’s a lot more that goes on behind the scenes than either you or I are privy to,” Fisto said placatingly, “We’re all doing what we can to keep you guys safe.”

“I know.” Both Anakin and Rex said in unison.

“Even if I do feel like this might be testing fate a bit,” He gestured to the large crowd of people, “I suppose it is nice to see everyone so happy for a change.”

It was, but even Anakin, who had made some bold and sometimes foolish decisions in the name of fun, thought it was a little soon. He’d heard rumors that Palpatine was being pushed by the Ministry to hold the Quidditch matches anyway. Apparently, there was a decent gambling pool that relied on which team would come out on top. 

“It would make me happier if Slytherin loses.” Rex said.

He leaned down to their level and winked, “Between you and me? Same.”

“We’ll see you in there?” Anakin laughed.

“I’m right behind you,” Fisto nodded.

***

Breha was never one to underestimate her opponents. Slytherin team may have been without a captain, but she still knew they would be looking to Ventress for plays. They’d been working with her all year after all. It was, however, still something they could take advantage of. A few of the Slytherin players would certainly be willing to try and usurp the queen in order to gain the position next year and that would make their play style much more chaotic than it would otherwise be.

That was excellent for a team like Hufflepuff, who thrived in their teamwork. None of them had the same level of ambition as many of the Slytherin’s she knew. Ambition wasn’t always a bad thing, Breha would be hard pressed to say she didn’t possess some level of it herself, but in a situation like this, she knew her team would flow like a stream whereas their opposition would butt heads like a rockslide.

She knocked away the Quaffle from the golden hoops as she kept a careful eye on the bludgers that were being knocked her way. Her chasers were quick to grab it out from the competitive hands of two Slytherin chasers. Hufflepuff was steadily racking up points and although they were nowhere near to beating them without the snitch, it certainly was quite an embarrassment for the house of green and silver. Normally Hufflepuff would be hard pressed to get the ball through a ring at all.

“Get it together, you useless swine,” Ventress hollered at her team as she skirted dangerously close to their heads. If she likely wasn’t in the mood to get into more trouble, Breha wondered if she might hit them with her bat.

“Good job!” Breha cheered with a smile as her own team scored a point. The cheers erupting from the audience were quieter than they usually were, but loud enough to hear over the wind. Breha frowned, taking her eyes off the game for only a moment to search her surroundings. She almost thought she’d heard a scream.

She turned, around and narrowly managed to catch the Quaffle with her hands rather than her face before tossing it down field. The audience cheered again, but something didn’t feel right. Breha’s hands twitched on the handle of her broom. She could call a timeout, but she would hate to waste something over a feeling.

She glanced around again. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

She raised her hands to make the call when a loud whistle jolted the game to a halt. Breha dodged a bludger as they both went sailing for their holding crate. Professor Tiin was holding up his hands in a desperate T. She descended quickly on her broom and the rest of the students in the sky followed.

“What’s going on?”

***

“They’ve stopped,” Satine was surprised. She’d watched a lot of Quidditch despite her distaste for it and she certainly hadn’t seen anything like this happen before, “A time out?”

“Somethings up,” Cody was the one to respond. He was watching the field with interest, but there was a layer of worry that he normally didn’t have when watching even the most dangerous of crashes, “Ref called for their grounding; there wasn’t anything wrong with the game.”

“No penalties,” Ben nodded. He too looked concerned, eyes flicking around the stadium. Satine found herself looking behind her again. She no longer felt eyes on her, but she certainly felt like the hairs on the back of her neck were beginning to raise. Before either of them could comment further though, Headmaster Palpatine’s voice, amplified, filled the stadium. His tone was less than pleased.

“Students and Faculty,” He started solemnly, “We must immediately return to the castle.”

Chatter filled the stands at once, not just the children either, but Satine caught Professor Plo turning to whisper to Professor Windu. Neither of them looked like they knew anything.

“What about the game?” A fourth year Gryffindor yelled, “It’s against the rules to stop!”

“What’s going on?” A Ravenclaw third year added from a few seats in front of her. Satine felt like her limbs were full of lead as she reached out to clutch the sleeve of Ben’s robe. She had a bad feeling.

“The game is not important,” There was a soft sigh that was barely audible past a few outcries from the student body, “It brings me a terrible sadness to inform you of the passing of Professor Kit Fisto-”

Cries of outrage and of sadness expelled themselves from the student body. The Professors, while schooled better on their emotions, looked just as surprised as they stood, immediately gathering students and shuffling them towards the exits. On the field, Professor Tiin was doing the same with the Quidditch teams.

“It has to be Maul,” Ben hissed at them, “He’s getting bolder.”

Neither she nor Cody could make much of a response though, being swept amongst other panicked students out of the stands and onto the sprawling grounds. Satine only realized she still had a grip on Ben’s sleeve when he tripped and fell, and she narrowly avoided the same fate by letting go.

“Ben-” She started reaching out a hand for him when she noticed he’d tripped over a first year who looked rather shell shocked, wide horrified eyes filling up with tears. He must have fallen first and narrowly avoided being trampled on.

“Oh, hey there, it’s alright,” Ben had noticed too, taking the time to help the boy up off the ground, despite the shouts of professors for them to get back in line, “Come on, we just have to get into the castle, alright? We’ll be safe there.” Satine felt like she was intruding, but refused to leave them there alone. Luckily, the boy took Ben’s hand quickly and the three of them shuffled back into the crowd quickly.

As soon as the last student was through the doors to the castle they slammed shut, latching forcefully behind them. The doors to the Great Hall did similarly.

“Bloody hell, I thought you two had disappeared,” Cody ran up to them, looking relieved. His own brothers fell at ease the second he turned away from them, clearly he’d rounded them up first thing.

“Is Anakin-?” Ben whipped his head around to look and Cody pointed towards where Anakin and Rex were looking pale and shaken, but alive.

All were accounted for it seemed, all but Professor Kit Fisto, who had died at the hands of a mad man while guarding the far side of the pitch, alone.

***

A funeral for Kit Fisto had been held off grounds- somewhere in the middle of the ocean for all of his aquatic friends and family members to properly mourn him in accordance with their traditions. His ashes were sprinkled over the Mariana Trench, where he’d done some of his biggest work. 

His absence left the school caught in a limbo of uncertainty. Professors were in a mode of practicality only and it was hardly blameable. Maul had not only gotten within their barrier, but had committed a gruesome act of violence that some students had the horrors of bearing witness to the aftermath of. 

Kit Fisto had been treated not like a person, but a sign to be waved on a stick, to show just what Maul intended to do to each of them if they didn’t give him Anakin Skywalker. Classes were taught within the confines of the common rooms to keep students from traveling elsewhere. With the blocked off tunnels, it seemed like the only safe space to keep Maul out. 

No longer were even prefects allowed to walk the halls. Patrols were cancelled, and professors and aurors walked every space and brought food to students as well as taught their classes. It was a mess, really, and students were definitely affected by the change. Less and less faces were present, many removed from the castle altogether at the insistence of their parents. 

However, those who remained were downcast and gray just like the sky outside their windows. A greedy part of Obi-Wan was thankful that his friends were still here, even if the current circumstances didn’t allow him to see Cody or Anakin. He was surprised Satine’s mother didn’t bring her home, though he had his suspicions of the extent at which she knew. It was hard to tell with the muggle families. They didn’t get the same news as wizards did, but it seemed awfully callous for there to be no warning from the school. 

Then again, professors were quite busy working alongside the aurors to track Maul down. Part of him wondered where he could possibly be hiding, but really, there were endless corridors at Hogwarts that he’d never known of- not until the existence of the map, anyway. Even then, the fabled Room of Requirement was still out there untouched. Pure intentions were supposed to unlock it and he had severe doubts that Maul’s qualified.

This castle that they’d once been free to roam had shrunk significantly for all of them. He couldn’t even imagine being in Slytherin house and segmented only to the lightless space near the dungeons.

The news of Kit Fisto’s tragic demise took a while to reach outside outlets, for it wasn’t until an entire week later, shortly after his reported funeral, that they’d received a very dramatic and incoherent Floo call from Aayla. Even in the charcoal embers taking form into her face, he could tell she was blubbering like a baby. 

“HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?” She wailed and the other students in the common room, who were a bit piled on top of one another, turned their bodies to try and allow privacy to the fireplace. It wasn’t like Aayla seemed to mind much.

“Er, I know this must be difficult for you,” Obi-Wan tried awkwardly as he searched his eyes through the room. Where was Satine when he needed her? There weren’t too many places to go, after all.

“DIFFICULT? TRY IRREVOCABLY HEARTBROKEN TO THE LARGEST DEGREE? HE WAS SO YOUNG SO KIND SO BEAUTIFUL.” She shook with tears, “Too good for this world, honestly. I don’t… I don’t know how I’ll go on.”

Obi-Wan didn’t think himself a callous person, but he sure as hell didn’t know how to navigate this conversation without further setting her off, “He will be dearly missed as he was a favorite teacher for most.”

“He’s more than that!” She bellowed, but it wasn’t intimidating due to the hiccups she’d recently caught, “He was the kindest soul placed on this earth like an orb of light- and I but a moth drawn to him…”

“Yes, of course!” Obi-Wan panicked, “I didn’t mean to reduce your care for him, I only meant-”

“Aayla?” Satine was suddenly knelt beside him, looking over his shoulder and into the fire. 

“Yes, Satine, Aayla heard the unfortunate news regarding Professor Fisto-”

“DON’T SAY HIS NAME IT’S TOO SOON!” She sobbed.

Satine flashed him a scathing look and he shrugged helplessly. Aayla did have a point about there being many extremely crestfallen students over the professor’s death. Beyond simply grieving a good professor and person too. Many of the remaining members of Fisto’s fan club were inconsolably upset, like they’d just lost the love of their young lives.  It seemed he’d made a big impression in his short time as a professor, even if not necessarily the way he’d intended to. 

Even on that scale, he’d be missed. Although reserved by bureaucratic restrictions, Fisto tried to teach them to fight, to protect themselves. In many ways, Obi-Wan preferred him as a professor to Dooku (even removing the sinister Sith stuff), because of how approachable and charismatic he’d been. Obi-Wan was in a bit of disbelief even still that he was gone.

“Did you see him?” She sniffled.

Satine tensed, but shook her head, “No, and I don’t envy those who did.”

“No, I suppose not.” Aayla said, “You know what my last words were to him?”

“What’s that?” Obi-Wan asked.

She breathed deeply to stabilize herself, “That I’d perfect resistance to the Imperius curse while at home. What kind of goodbye is that?”

“Well, you couldn’t have possibly known, Aayla.” Satine said soothingly and Obi-Wan wondered how she maintained the careful line of logic and empathetic. It would be beautiful to bear witness to under different circumstances that weren’t this depressing.

“Maybe not, but I haven’t even been able to do him justice by practicing my resistance!”

“Everyone’s having a hard time studying in this climate,” Satine said and looked around, “We’re all on top of one another in here.”

“Plus, rumor has it, someone’s fixed up a shrine for Professor Fisto in the girl’s bathroom,” Obi-Wan said.

“I should be there to pay tribute,” She said. “If it weren’t for my parents, I would be.”

“It’s better that you’re not,” Satine assured, “You can properly mourn him when you come back, when everything is safe again.”

If it was safe again. She hadn’t said it that way, but he could tell by her demeanor that she was thinking of it. It had only been a week since they were confined to their common room, but it was starting to feel very much like they were trapped. His only means of asking how Anakin was aside from the fireplace was through Qui-Gon and his daily visits. 

“I’LL NEVER LOVE AGAIN!” She cried. 

“Erm,” he bit his lip, “There there, he wouldn’t want you to be-”

“-He would never know what I want, because I, like many others, kept my feelings locked within my heart instead of on display. It’s the stupid logical side of me.”

“Well, he was your professor.” This was not the correct thing to say. “You couldn’t possibly pursue a relationship-”

“-Ben, why don’t you referee the first and second year’s game of gobstones, since you like it so,” The edge to her voice queued him into realizing that thankfully, it was not a suggestion.

“You still play that?” Aayla wrinkled her nose, briefly distracted from her woe, “That’s for children!”

“It’s a very tactical game, thank you!” Obi-Wan huffed.

“Kit liked darts.” Aayla remembered that she was supposed to be heartbroken.

Obi-Wan took his opportunity to exit before it was lost on him, feeling a bit guilty for leaving Satine with that mess to clean. As it were, sticking around was only making it worse. He just hoped that the other houses were faring better than they were locked up.

***

If it weren’t for the blanket of loss that stained everything, Anakin probably would have called their mandatory lockdown some sort of break from school. The concept of a “staycation” was lost on Rex and his brothers, but it was even less pleasant given the circumstances. The first day hadn’t been bad, since they all basically hung out and tried to distract themselves with snacks and jokes. Seven days in, however, it was getting tedious and it was even worse by the professors attempting to teach the entire common room at once, which meant that half of it was far too confusing and ahead of the game for even Anakin to grasp.

Plus, he didn’t have Obi-Wan to edit his stuff, which made a big difference. Qui-Gon did offer to deliver any parcels or letters back and forth, but that felt silly when he could always theoretically use the fireplace. Acknowledging that they might be in here for a while was starting to get to him.

“I’d give anything for a game of Quidditch,” Cody sighed as he flipped through a magazine on the very subject, wistfully running a hand on the glossy pictures that depicted summer fun in the most recent digest. 

“Quidditch? I’d give anything to do a lap running around the castle,” Rex added with a stretch of his leg, “I’m going stir crazy.”

“Need I remind you all that you lot rejected our suggestion for indoor Aingingein.” Fives piped up from his spot on the floor beside his twin.

“Yeah, and I’ll never be desperate enough to try that inside!” Cody said, “We haven’t even got any barrels to light on fire anyway.”

“We could improvise!” Echo complained. “It doesn’t have to be on fire.”

“With you lot, it’s always on fire.” He said pointedly, “Even if it’s not supposed to be.”

“I have always excelled with pyrotechnic spells,” Echo said smugly, “Definitely a strong suit of mine.”

“Of ours, thank you,” Fives corrected.

“Never thought I’d hear the day where you’re the voice of reason,” Anakin said to Cody, who turned his head lazily with a crooked smile.

“Process of elimination, kid.” He said, though Anakin viewed Cody as more responsible than he gave himself credit for. 

He felt guilty for allowing himself to feel monotony. Someone had died, after all, and the only reason they were all stuck here was because Maul wanted to eliminate the Chosen One- a title he couldn’t believe he’d once been proud of. They were all lucky to be safe within their common room and that Maul hadn’t incited anymore violence the day he got Fisto. Even that small consolation felt immediately hollow as Anakin thought of it. 

It didn’t stop the darkest crevices of his mind from generating possibilities of Maul picking off each standing professor and auror, leaving them trapped and with no real way of knowing what was happening. It was horrifying. Judging by The Daily Prophet, reports weren’t being as authentic as they could be about the sheer amount of danger they were in. 

“What’s the first thing you’re doing when we get out of here?” Rex asked him.

“Oh,” Anakin hadn’t really thought of it, “Probably never complain about having to wake up early for class ever again.”

“I hear that.” Fives said, “Getting up and moving to a different room sounds like a dream. Anything has to be better than sitting here wasting time.”

Anakin glanced over towards the other end of the room, where Padmé was perched near the window, allowing the natural light of the sun to provide an angelic glow on her face as she read the book in her lap. Even though they didn’t have to, she still dressed in Gryffindor robes and had her hair pulled back in two buns that were fanned out at the base of her neck and shimmering with a silver glitter.

In the pocket of his robes was the necklace he’d decorated for her. There were so many moments where he wanted to give it to her, to tell her that he painted it with his hands and that he knew life was short and that meant seizing it while you had it, not isolating him. 

He considered standing and approaching her, sitting opposite and inquiring about what she was reading, telling her she looked lovely, and making this anything but wasted time for him. 

The thought washed away faster than it appeared and an announcement chimed through the entire room, silencing everyone from the idle chatter that kept them sane thus far.

Anakin didn’t need to hear it before to know who it belonged to. 

“Professors and students of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry,” Maul addressed them all like a king addressing his loyal subjects, “Despite how the Daily Prophet might paint me, I am capable of being reasonable. You see I am not as young as I used to be, so I see no issue in leaving the castle and its occupants unscathed. There is but one thing that I desire.”

Anakin’s heart was pounding in his chest and he felt Rex’s hand on his shoulder immediately. It should have been stabilizing and comforting, but all it really did was serve as a reminder as to why Maul was even here. 

“Give me your precious Chosen One, and I will see to it that there is no more bloodshed,” Maul continued, “For it was not long ago that I was in your midst and though I was treated like a feral animal not worthy of teaching, I do have some sentimental nostalgia to this place. After all, every hero requires an origin story.”

“We do not bargain with murderers, Maul.” This time, Anakin truly did know the voice to be Mace Windu’s firm tone.

“A pity, Professor Windu, a pity indeed,” Maul remained completely calm and neutral, which Anakin hadn’t expected. They all watched the ceiling as though they waited with bated breath for him to sink through it. “Because until you submit to my conditions, I will cut through every single person in this school until I get what I want.”

“You will not succeed, Maul.” Palpatine, this time, echoed through the room, even if not physically present. 

A long pause, and then, “I’ll be the judge of that, Headmaster.”

And then, a laugh so sinister and cold that Anakin swore his blood was frozen solid. Everyone was watching him as the voices faded and they were only left to the crackling of the fire. He stared straight ahead, burning with an anger and fear so bright that he felt he might physically glow.

“We aren’t going to let him get you, mate.” Rex insisted severely, “You hear me?”

He didn’t doubt that they would do everything in their power to save him, but Anakin already had the guilt of his mother’s disappearance weighing on his conscience. He wasn’t sure he could bear another.

At the thought of his mother, he practically saw stars. This monster had been the reason his family, his home, his protector was gone. He took her and did who knows what with her. And while he knew from deep within him, from the small little voice that told him so in his most horrible dreams, he wasn’t ready for such a threat. 

But he also wasn’t ready to lose his mother and he certainly wasn’t ready to allow his friends to take any heroic falls for him. Maul was here for a reason and perhaps, that’s what he needed, to have it handed straight over to him.

“Anakin.” Rex said again and shook his shoulder, “I don’t like that look you’ve got on your face.”

He stared at his friend, memorizing the kindness on his face. He didn’t deserve him. “I’m sorry, Rex.”

“It’s not your fault!” He insisted, scoffing at the idea of it. “He’s a lunatic! He’s gone and murdered a professor because of a stupid poem that was written centuries ago! So what if you’re the Chosen One according to that! Isn’t Qui-Gon always saying the future is always changing?”

He was, but right now was the present, which Anakin could only control his own actions in.

“I am sorry for that… And for this,” He nodded, but then blasted his friend backwards with a swift stupefy spell, and raced out of the room before anyone could grab him. One of the Fett’s nearly succeeded and ripped a piece of his robe, but the door slammed behind him before he could be fully pulled back.

He was going to face Maul.

***

Satine, like every other student in the school, was horrified at the conversation they’d all heard booming in their ears. It felt like an immense invasion of privacy and had intended to have that effect, considering the initial source. They were lucky enough to have Qui-Gon present when it occurred for class, but any comfort that his presence might have offered was swept away when he immediately made for the exit with his wand ready.

“Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan was paler than she’d ever seen him and watching his mentor with a fear they never should have known, “Don’t.”

“I will do what I must, Obi-Wan,” He nodded, “As will you, I’m sure.”

There was a passing secret language between them of which Satine did not understand and was not intended to. Whatever it meant, it caused Obi-Wan to look ready to snap in two right before her eyes. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, not knowing what to say at all under such circumstances. They were under siege by one man, who couldn’t be stopped by aurors or Dementors or even their notable DADA professor. She felt her heart plunge into the pit of her stomach as the severity of this dawned on all of them. For a moment, it felt like there was no one else in the room but the three of them.

“Yes, Professor.” He said instead of what he’d meant to and just like that, Qui-Gon Jinn was gone and the door behind him locked.

Obi-Wan stared at where he’d left for a long moment, fists balled and whether it was the angle of the sun or otherwise, his eyes looked glassy. His lip didn’t tremble and his breathing didn’t change. Instead, he looked rigid beyond repair.

“I’m sure he’s just going to Gryffindor’s common room to check on Anakin.” Satine said as she cautiously approached him to rest a hand on his shoulder blade. He didn’t flinch or jump at her touch, but it did feel like he had transported off to another plane of existence. 

“That’s exactly what he’s doing.” He said heavily and finally turned to meet her eyes, “Maul went to this school. Surely, he knows it well enough to know where the Gryffindors sleep.”

That had also occurred to her, but right now, standing in front of him, where they were both so desperately trying to grasp onto some semblance of hope, she didn’t want to voice it. She feared their time for seeking solace was well passed. 

“Maul doesn’t know the codes to get in.” She said firmly, “He won’t be able to get in and get Anakin. The Fat Lady wouldn’t allow for it.

He did nod at that, “Yes, it was a security measure from-”

“-The war, I presume.” She raised an eyebrow, “As everything is?”

“Actually from the amount of teen pregnancies occurring from inter-house relations.” He said frankly and it nearly made her laugh if it didn’t sound like such a believably ludicrous solution only thought of by wizards. 

Any light quip she was thinking of making disappeared into nothing as the fireplace burst into a hasty shout of, “Kenobi? Are you there? Satine? Anyone?”

They rushed to the fire again, recognizing their best friend’s voice in mind-numbing alarm. Any younger students dove out of the way immediately on instinct to avoid being knocked into the flames.

“Cody, I-” Obi-Wan hadn’t even gotten a word in edgewise before he was promptly cut off by Cody’s furious shout, which was no doubt trying to compete with the noisy background surrounding him.

“ANAKIN’S ESCAPED!”

“What?” It was Obi-Wan who interrupted this time. “What do you mean he escaped?”

“He’s going for Maul!” Rex cried, shoving his brother out of the way, “I tried to stop him, but-”

Anything else Rex said faded to the background, though she suspected it was mostly nonsense judging by how upset he clearly was.

No, that couldn’t be. Her heart was thundering in her ears at the implication. Anakin was giving himself up for slaughter, but she knew in her heart that despite his claims, Maul would not stop there. Violence only begets more violence, especially when from the hand of a bloodthirsty animal.

“Stay put,” Obi-Wan’s voice was almost unrecognizable. It was deeper, commanding, and completely unlike the gentle witticism she’d grown used to (and fond of) over the years. Had she not watched him speak, she might not have believed it at all. 

“Kenobi, don’t you even think-” Cody shoved back in.

Obi-Wan didn’t allow him to finish the sentiment, ending the connection and shoving himself off the ground with nearly as much speed as he’d gotten to it, aggressively shoving through a surrounding crowd, knocking Fenn Rau onto his arse when he tried to block him from the exit with tremendous ease. Satine followed through the space he’d left in his wake, desperately trying to reach him with a pounding dread that washed her into a blinding panic.

She caught his hand just before he could leave, in a vice grip that under different circumstances she would not use, but it drew his attention back to her, his eyes blazing with purpose and certainty. 

“Let go of me.” He said with strange calm.

“No.” She said, “I won’t let you do this.”

“That’s not up to you!”

“Like hell it isn’t!” She argued, “I won’t have you knocking on death’s door yet again out of some infuriating sense of nobility.”

“Satine,” His eyes softened as he focused on her and looked a little more like the boy who effortlessly stole her breath away, “It’s Anakin.”

She knew that. Her stomach curled and coiled at the vile revelation and what it meant for Obi-Wan, who despite not being the main character of this prophetic narrative, was a true hero despite his own self-doubts. And really, she wouldn’t care for him the way she did if he weren’t the type to run into the fire against his better logic for a boy who had always been chosen to him- prophecy be damned. 

There was no one else in the room as she contemplated just how dire this moment was and how pitiful it was.

“Please be careful.” She found herself saying in a voice only he could hear.

“I always try to be.” It wasn’t a promise and she noticed that. He would never make a promise he couldn’t keep. Not to her.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity and her mind raced with a flush of memories and regrets- that in this moment the cold reality was drenching them with how little time they likely had left. It seemed he was processing a similar line of thinking, because his eyes scanned her face as though memorizing every detail. Thousands of unsaid words passed between them, though even then she yearned to hear the real thing. 

It was now or never, it seemed.

“At Christmas, I-” His breath hitched, “I- Well, I’ve never…”

He seemed quite infuriated with himself. A crash in the distance caused them both to break their spell and Obi-Wan turned back to her, regret swimming in his eyes as well as a fondness that could no longer be debated. 

They didn’t have time.

“I’m sorry,” He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a single firm kiss to her knuckles, “Another time, I hope.”

And she watched him go, memorizing with painstaking clarity the feeling of his hand slipping from hers and out of reach as his perfect silhouette danced down the stairs hurriedly, never looking back. Perhaps, because doing so would make him run back to her. That’s what she told herself again. 

Her hand burned as she clutched it tightly. She had a duty to uphold too. 

***

Anakin ran, assuming logically that the grand staircases would be where Maul awaited. He seemed to be somewhat interested in being dramatic and Anakin could think of no better place to stage an assault. He’d expected to hear someone following behind him, a professor trying to catch him before he did something so stupid or a friend come to his aid, but neither seemed as crazy as he was to face a threat so great.

The closer to the staircase he grew, the more aurors were laid about, Anakin felt his steps falter as he purposely turned his eyes away. They were fine, they had to be, they were just… taking a nap.

Although even his own heart didn’t take the gentle suggestion at face value.

He saw green light reflecting off the wall up ahead. It gave off an eerie strobe effect that made Anakin hesitate. His wand was still gripped in his hand and he did know a fair few spells he was quite good at, but what did he know about going against someone so powerful? Countless aurors were lying about, clearly not able to take him themselves and it certainly didn’t seem like Maul was in the mood to play with his victims.

The thoughts of his own home kept his feet moving forward. His mother’s bedroom, covered with feathers and his mother, missing, possibly worse and it had to be at the hands of Maul. Who else would be trying to draw him out, but the man who was very clear at wanting him dead this entire year? He repeated over and over and over again the stunning spell in his head as he stepped out into the open area of the staircases.

An auror had just caught the end of a green beam and was falling down. Maul looked almost bored as he watched and didn’t flinch as Anakin did as they hit the ground with a thud. Maul had put forth no effort in his spree, but the thought didn’t deter Anakin from hurtling his own spell while he had the element of surprise.

“Stupify,” He tried to be quiet about it, but his spell still missed the man by a few centimeters. Maul had noticed him much sooner, by the way he just stood there, watching him like a predator would its prey.

“So you have the dignity to fight your own battles,” He flicked his wand and Anakin dodged, jumping onto a staircase as it pivoted past him. Maul stepped casually onto his own and they both spun around each other before their stairs clicked into place. Anakin held his ground, aiming to stay as far away as he could from the man. There were things he wanted answered and he surely didn’t come here to lay down and die.

“I want to know what you did to my mum!” Anakin yelled before sending out another stunning spell and missing narrowly. Maul was still unperturbed by this and stepped onto another staircase.

“What would I care about your mother?” Maul asked with a sneer.

Anakin’s heart leapt, he must be lying, “Y-you took her! I know you did!” He shouted, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand. He sent off a quick chain-cast, aiming to disarm Maul, at least then there wasn’t much damage he could do. Maul reflected it like it was a particularly pesky fly and Anakin’s spell slammed into the wall, showering debris all around them.

“I didn’t take your mother, boy,” Maul sent a spell knocking Anakin’s wand out of his hand and causing it to tumble down the steps. He shrunk back as Maul took each step down to him incredibly slowly, “But once you’ve been erased from this earth,” He grinned, sharp teeth grinding together in a hideous display, “I’ll send her to find you.”

Maul’s wand was moving and in a last-ditch attempt at living, Anakin rushed forward, jumping at Maul and trying to rip his wand out of his hand. Maul growled, a low dangerous sound before shoving Anakin off. Anakin stumbled, but managed not to fall just in time for Maul’s foot to come crashing into his chest, sending him tumbling down the stairs.

He landed hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs, but in the dust kicked up he managed to locate his wand before Maul could aim again and he sent out another desperate spell.

His heart sank as Maul simply stepped aside to dodge such a thing. This wasn’t how he wanted his life to end. He’d thought he’d be avenging his mother, locating her, being a hero. He was the Chosen One, he thought he could live through anything.

Maul raised his wand.

Anakin thought of his friends who he’d come to love like family. He thought of magic and all he had yet to learn. He thought of his mother, out there somewhere waiting for him.

***

There were bodies upon bodies lining the walls, all aurors, and all dead by Maul, presumably. Obi-Wan didn’t look as he went, not needing the horrifying distraction at the moment. These men and women gave themselves over to protect them and were treated like dominos to be knocked over in a chain reaction, all leading to-

-He came to an abrupt halt from his sprint, brain whirring as it tried to catch up to what his eyes saw to the left on the grand staircase. It was a body, and not just any body, but Anakin, small and limp at the bottom, completely unmoving. And just three flights up, completely shrouded in black save for his fiery face, was Maul.

“Stay away from him!” Obi-Wan shouted, drawing his attention immediately. Time only continued when he noticed Anakin’s chest moving up and down where he lay. All hope was not lost yet.

That was not to say that they were anywhere near out of the woods. The dementors had entered the space, but even this offered Obi-Wan no false hope. In fact, by the way they hovered beside him with a slight green glow surrounding their usual complete blackness, it was like they obeyed Maul somehow, serving the very opposite purpose than what was programmed of them. 

Maul’s wand was sleek and smooth and undoubtedly did not belong to him originally. Obi-Wan knew enough about the clearances distributed by the Ministry that it belonged to an officer of some kind. He didn’t want to picture what happened to its original owner. Obi-Wan always struggled with conjuring patronuses, but if there was ever a time to learn, there was nothing like the present. He had to force his hand not to shake as he outstretched it, hoping he didn’t look as young as he felt.

He tried to channel happiness and positivity in a moment like this, in order to create the bright light needed to banish these dementors away, but every time a spark felt as though it might kindle, the gravity of their situation snuffed it out.  

Maul said nothing, just as he hadn’t in Hogsmeade, but he did bear a full mouthful of yellow-stained teeth that matched the glowing eyes that appeared hollowed out in his skull. There was only hate and suffering behind those eyes, never a day of love or care. If Anakin’s life weren’t on the line, Obi-Wan might have felt sorry for him.

He knew the moment he made a move for the boy, Maul would only charge, but they couldn’t remain in this uneven standoff forever. Literally, they could not, because the stairs would not hold still for anyone, not even for the theatrics of a bloody lunatic. So, while it felt like a longshot, it also seemed like his only shot.

Obi-Wan took the leap, dashing to the end of the stairs, tumbling and grabbing Anakin on the way, just as the stairs moved and swiftly knocked them at an alarming velocity towards another shifting staircase. As predicted, when he moved, Maul moved, but not fast enough and stumbled as the stairs shifted, toppling over a railing in the process. 

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin sat up and rubbed his head. 

He quickly inspected the boy, satisfied that there was no blood, but there would definitely be a large bump on his head from whatever fall he’d taken. They didn’t have time to dilly dally. They had to go. He grabbed Anakin by the hand and pulled him the rest of the way down the stairs to the ground level, flickering his eyes up to notice the dementors closing in on them like nightfall. 

For a brief moment, as the dementor positioned itself ready, Obi-Wan saw the future of Hogwarts as it was to be should Maul truly claim the school. He saw destruction, fire, betrayal, hate. He saw so much hate in the form of enraged yellow eyes. He couldn’t seem to feel his hands or his feet as the tunnel of darkness closed in on him. There was no life, there was no hope, there was no purpose. 

All he wanted was for it to be over… Just put him out of his misery. 

Why hadn’t Maul claimed them yet?

He saw his friends suffering at his failure. He saw the school itself burning to the ground. Cody was on the ground of the castle, a fiery hole in his chest that hadn’t cooled, unmoving and unblinking. Satine was surely next as she sobbed alongside him. Everything was painted in gray. 

In the reflection of the green aura that tainted the dementors’ ragged cloaks, he met Anakin’s equally disillusioned gaze. That spark that refused to ignite earlier dragged like flint on steel and rubbed rapidly, starting to warm him up and remind him not of the bright spots of life, but of what he’d come here to do.

Positioning himself in front of Anakin, Obi-Wan yelled, “Expecto Patronum!” 

Only an azure burst of light did not come from the tip of his wand, but somewhere above the dementors, taking the form of a beautiful blue and florid owl before circling and encompassing the dark phantoms with a blinding light. In the process, it knocked Maul backwards up a staircase and bolting forwards towards the person responsible. 

He knew that patronus. 

“Qui-Gon!” Anakin pointed up even further, where Obi-Wan’s mentor had thoroughly derailed Maul’s plans of following them by engaging in a violent trade of green and red bouts of magic back and forth, dancing along the stairs rhythmically, away from them, as though they were partners in an arranged production. Glass windows shattered and more dementors joined the game, never once standing a chance for Qui-Gon Jinn, though Maul proved himself quite the martial artist. 

“We’ve got to help him!” Anakin began to move, which stalled Obi-Wan from his shocked reverie and he grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back.

“No, you’ve got to get to safety!” Obi-Wan said and held him close to his face, “You are in no shape to be fighting a Sith lord.”

“Neither is he!” Anakin pointed out the obvious, which was that Maul’s aggressively acrobatic fighting style was only going to wear Qui-Gon out should they continue to edge towards a dead end. Qui-Gon would have very little room to maneuver and parry should they corner themselves in a tower or a narrow walkway. “And neither are you.”

“I have to help him.” Obi-Wan said, “It’s the only way.”

He couldn’t explain it too, because it just felt like he needed to push forward. The logical thing to do would be to run back to Ravenclaw tower with Anakin in tow and reunite with his friends in safety, but he was drawn to the fight and not for any sense of bloodlust, but refined purpose. 

“I won’t let you!” Anakin cried, “It’s my fault!”

“Like hell it is!” Obi-Wan chastised and shoved him forward, “You are in control of your own actions, not Maul’s. The only action you should be doing is getting the hell out of here.”

“But-”

“No but’s, Anakin! If you never listen to me again, listen to me now: run. Hide. Get help, whatever, but you stay as far away as your little legs can carry you, alright? You are the future of tomorrow. This is only today.”

It wasn’t what he promised Qui-Gon, but if Anakin was away from Maul, he was safe, so if Obi-Wan could help delay that, he would. 

“Where?”

“Exactly where you need to be,” He said.

“I can never get those stupid riddles!”

“Trust me, you will.” Obi-Wan said. “Just run.”

“And what about you?” 

“I’m right behind you,” Though as they stared at each other, they both knew it was a lie. With tears staining his cheeks, Anakin nodded and ran in the opposite direction. Obi-Wan watched him until he was far enough away before turning and racing back up the steps again. Just as he did, they began moving, knocking Obi-Wan around rather roughly and almost backwards again, but he kept running and even dove forward to catch the next staircase by the hand.

For a moment, he was suspended above by only one hand, forcing himself to use all the strength in his body to lift himself and keep climbing.

Qui-Gon and Maul kept moving, the sound of glass shattering in their wake. 

***

Against every fiber of his being that told him to stay and fight, Anakin ran. He aggressively swiped tears from his eyes with his arm as he did so, trying to keep his vision as clear as possible. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. Gryffindor’s common room was the other way and he would never understand the Ravenclaw riddle to get in.

Obi-Wan had only told him to go, but not where, though he’d looked at him with conviction as though he had given him a clue. Anakin was far too distressed to think of any clues. Fear swelled in him, as he considered what his two mentors were sacrificing in order to protect him, to protect the future. They believed in him, but he didn’t quite believe in himself at the moment. Maul was going to tear through this entire school and if there was one thing that was proven, it was just how inescapable that was. 

He was supposed to be a hero, but he was trying to escape. It had always been the plan, but he’d never expected to have to do so alone. He was supposed to save them all, but he’d learned the hard way that he was no match for Maul.

His feet rapidly hit the ground, never once breaking stride as he tred onward. There was only so far he could go before he ended up right back where they were. He needed a place where no one would find him. He needed a safe haven. 

But between the Zillo Beast, Dooku, and now Maul, he’d learned that there was no real sense of security in this wizarding world. It was fantastic in both the best and worst ways possible, with no room for the mundane quiet of peace. Anakin never typically cared when it didn’t involve a sadist breaking in and trying to murder him. 

As he rounded a particularly sharp corner and briefly considered hiding in an empty classroom under a desk or in a chest, his eyes went round as he noticed not one, not two, but three dementors lingering near the dungeons. Slytherin’s common room was nearby, but they’d never let him in.

“Skywalker, what the hell are you doing?” Windu dropped in from seemingly nowhere, banishing the now mob of dementors that were swirling around them like a tornado. 

“They’re everywhere!” He yelled.

“How did this happen?” Windu asked.

“Maul turned them against everyone! I don’t know how!”

Windu grimaced as they closed in on them and kept Anakin close as he flipped his cape to the side and valiantly pointed his wand with the lethal confidence of someone who had done it many times before. From Windu’s wand, a glowing blue ram burst through the wall of spinning black to create a pocket just big enough for Anakin.

“Run!” He shouted and once again, Anakin obeyed. 

He needed to make sure he paid attention if he got to live to see the day patronuses were taught in school. Clearly, it was going to be an important lesson and one that Obi-Wan didn’t quite grasp yet.

Other professors were on the front lines of this massive fight against dementors whether inside or outside. Anakin leapt around one that was trying to suck the face off of Professor Ki-Adi Mundi, but was immediately banished by the vigilant Professor Shaak Ti. He never received more encouragement to keep pushing forward and away than he did in that moment.

Who would help Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan? Who would save them if all of the other professors were trying to handle the immediate threat of the dementors turning on them? His heart started to rattle as he kept going, approaching a dead end and slinking against the wall. The dementors came quicker than he anticipated even possible. Their long and bony fingers reached for him, ready to pull him into his own worst nightmares imaginable and to make them living realities. He’d snuck many horror movies in his time, but he’d never seen anything worse than them. 

Where was it written that the Chosen One would need a soul to save the universe? Nowhere, it would seem, because this didn’t qualify as death, but a fate worse than. He pointed his wand out, hoping he could also learn the patronus charm on the fly, but felt the immediate disconnect between his words and his wand. They were just words in the end.

He pressed himself against the door, never wishing more than to be anywhere but here. He wished he could have found where Obi-Wan was referring. He needed it. He needed that refuge if he was going to be brave and if he was going to fight back one day.

He needed- To open his eyes?

Because once he did so, he realized that he was in a completely different room that he’d never seen before. It wasn’t empty, exactly. There were old books stacked on some rickety tables. Cobwebs lined the portraits on the walls that chatted amongst themselves. They stopped dead in the middle of conversation when they spotted Anakin.

“Er- Sorry for interrupting.” He said with a wave.

“Who the blazes are you?” The dusty portrait of a man with dark hair and light brown skin frowned deeply at Anakin. 

“Don’t be rude, Master Ketu.” The hooded man in the portrait opposite to him nodded at Anakin, “Congratulations.”

“Do you even know what’s going on out there? There’s nothing to be congratulated for,” He said.

“Boy, have you no concept of what you have uncovered?” The man called Ketu pressed, his arms crossed over the numerous medals of honor that hung from his neck. 

Anakin looked around him, “Uh… A dirty old classroom?”

He pinched his nose, “I swear, these children grow more ungrateful by the years.” 

“To be fair, we haven’t seen a new child in over a century.” The other man said placatingly, “And there’s no way he can be worse than him. I am Ters Sendon, archivist and historian and this is Master Ketu, former leader of the old Je’daii order.”

“Je’Daii?”

“He hasn’t even heard of us.” Scoffed Ketu.

“An old group of warrior wizards who used to combat the ancient Sith during the old wars.” Ters said and Anakin gasped when he lifted off his hood to reveal horns protruding from his head just as Maul’s did. “What is it?”

“You’re… You’re like him!” Anakin backed away, nearly stumbling over a stray chair as he did, “You’re like the Sith lord that’s currently taking over our school!”

“I’m no Sith!” He protested.

“You look like him?”

“So? Sith is not a race, it’s a religion.” Ters said, “There are good people that look like me and plenty of bad people that look like you.”

Anakin considered that and realized as he looked at Ters Sendon that he didn’t bear any of the malicious traits that Maul had. There was no hate radiating off of his gaze, no yellow or orange to his eyes, no hostility in his voice. He didn’t even really look like Maul aside from the horns. As opposed to a stark red and black patterned face, Ters was more the color of leather, with beige swirls around his eyes and nose.

Ketu, not nearly as bored as he was before, stroked his black goatee, “You mean, the Sith have returned?”

“I’m supposed to defeat them someday.” Anakin said, “I’m the Chosen One. Or at least… I’m supposed to be, but I’m hiding…”

“Well, you’re much too young to fight a Sith, my boy.” Ketu said.

“Everyone’s been saying that and I know that, but how can I let other people take the fall for me?”

“Take it from someone who has seen plenty of golden haired heroes that were supposed to be chosen for greatness, you must accept that they are not fighting for you.”

“Ketu! How is that helpful?” Ters asked.

“Because it removes the pressure that comes with the position. Everyone has their place in this war, but you… You must survive. You must survive so that many others can live.” He fixed Anakin with a stern look, “That is why the Room summoned you.”

“The room?” Anakin looked around, “This place is special?”

“The Room of Requirement manifests itself only to students who truly need it.” Ters explained, “In your case, it’s to hide from this dastardly foe that breached your school.”

“If only I were alive… I’d bring this Sith to his knees.” Ketu sighed wistfully. 

“I can’t just sit in here and wait!” Anakin yelped, his voice echoing around the room. 

“Clearly, whatever you were running from had outnumbered you. You were whiter than a ghost.” Ters said, “And I’ve seen many ghosts.”

“Ghosts can come in here?”

“Not here, no.” Ketu shook his head, “We are the only portraits in the school that cannot move, but in our time, there were ghosts too.”

“Why can’t you move?”

“We must protect the integrity of the room,” Ters explained, “And a good thing too, because the last boy would have destroyed the place to prevent anyone else from finding it.”

“The magical enchantments were too powerful for him then, thankfully,” Ketu whistled, “I wonder where he got off to…”

“We need to get more people in here, to protect them!” Anakin said. “How can I let others follow me?”

“I think they may be safer where they are.”

Anakin wasn’t so sure. 

***

Qui-Gon had but one clear goal when parrying and deflecting the onslaught of fast green bolts that erupted from Maul’s wand: get him out of the castle. Hopefully, from there, other professors stronger than he could prevent him from entering again. Qui-Gon was no fighter by nature. It took a great deal of strength and focus and connectivity with his inner peace to remain in line with Maul’s attacks. He was definitely no one’s first choice in fighting off a man who murdered countless aurors in his wake.

However, the moment he saw Maul and his possessed dementors hovering over Obi-Wan and Anakin, he knew that this would be his fight after all. 

He’d never faced anything like this in his life- growing up in a time of peace was like the beautiful summer and late fall that preambled a harsh winter. Well, the ruthless attempts at his head led by the tenacious Sith was more of enough proof that winter had arrived with the full impact of a blizzard at their heels. 

Qui-Gon tried to analyze and predict the Zabrak’s next attack, hoping that his strategic capabilities would balance him against the superior fighting style that was the combination of martial artistry and power. There was much hate that spewed from every fiber of Maul’s being, so personal that Qui-Gon almost took it as such. It was like every person who stood in his way somehow became Maul’s target enemy and it was obvious he wasn’t used to anyone lasting this long.

Well, Qui-Gon did have the high ground when he snuck up on Maul and took him off guard, effectively clipping the wings that the dementors brought him. He wouldn’t even begin to question how he’d did it, save for that it was obviously an ancient magic known to the Sith. As they crossed the archway to the empty Great Hall, veering away from the direction of the student dormitories to Qui-Gon’s relief, and Maul was allotted true space to spew knives and broken shards of glassware towards him at once, Qui-Gon realized why this man hid all year.

He did not hide to feel out their positioning or to even tease them. Any of that had only been a cherry on top for the malignant evil before him. No, Maul waited it out to grow, to improve his strengths, to ready himself for this fight, because regardless of the ease at which he slipped through their clenched fists, he still expected a grave one.

“Protego!” Qui-Gon shouted numerous times in numerous directions, shielding himself from every blow Maul flung at him, but dodging an incoming killing curse as well. 

That was going to leave a mark on the walls. 

The candles came crashing down, bathing the entire room in a gray hollowness that he wasn’t used to, but didn’t ponder. It was only fitting that a Sith was trying to take everything good about this place with him. Well, he wouldn’t have it, not on his watch, anyway.

Their beams collided, his disarming and Maul’s for the kill, creating the collaboration of blinding green and red at the middle. It resembled a golden snitch at the heart of the contact, but despite having dueled Dooku just last year, Qui-Gon felt his arm, and eventually his whole body by extension, growing weak. Dooku had been going easy on him and he knew it. Maul would do no such thing.

Maul tapped further into his heat, bearing a tight grin as he pushed harder, showing just what the dark side could do, but Qui-Gon did not and would not envy his pain or his suffering that led him to such darkness.

“You were just a child, did you even get to choose?” Qui-Gon asked, trying to possibly tap into any shred of humanity left within the empty cavern that took place of Maul’s soul. That included, bringing up a history Maul did not want to remember. 

“You don’t know me.” It only emboldened his opponent’s attack, making the push and pull of their tug of war look a great deal more green than red. 

“Perhaps, I do. We were students here once, right? At the same time even.”

Maul remained silent and focused. He would not monologue for Qui-Gon. It seemed he was the sort of foe not worth quarreling with. 

“Give me the boy.” Was all he said.

“I cannot do that.” Qui-Gon shook his head.

“Then you will die.” He smiled. 

Sweat gathered at his temples as he pushed harder, channeling the peace that existed in harmony at his core, willing the spark to burn brighter than it ever had. If not ever again, now would be the moment.

It was not looking good. 

Until, an unprecedented blast of blue sent Maul skidding across the table, sliding into every stray glass and plate that had been left in shambles on the way. He was up and charging within a matter of seconds, which was remarkable on its own right, but this also meant that Qui-Gon didn’t have much of a second to breathe or consider that the wizard that entered the room was not a colleague or auror, but Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Obi-Wan!” He shouted and moved to jump in front of him to be a last standing shield from Maul, as if that would do anything, but the boy was quick and immediately took to pursuing Maul with his own attacks.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said.

“But I am, and we can talk about this later, no?” Obi-Wan gritted as Maul whipped out a second wand from his utility belt and let his robe drift to the ground. It seemed he came prepared for this very situation. It was a very unfortunate way to learn Maul was ambidextrous as he was just as proficient with his left hand as he was his right and was able to perform the same spell from two wands.

“We definitely will.” Qui-Gon fired back, but had to concede that the very last thing they needed to be doing to get out of here was arguing with each other. Not to mention, a very small part of him couldn’t help but be proud of Obi-Wan’s prowess for being so young. 

He’d never seen him like this before- so sure of himself and so determined, as well as so underdressed. His robe and jumper were completely discarded somewhere along his way here and the sleeves of his collared shirt had been pushed up. While still wearing the tie that symbolized his house with pride, he suddenly looked much older than the boy he knew. 

Even more than that, he successfully and quickly reflected Maul’s own curse back on him, sending the Sith dizzily stumbling around, though never once losing speed. 

With Obi-Wan at his side, he was able to take Maul on at a more even level, even with the two wands. He and his mentee practiced in sync together. They’d never formally fought alongside each other, but where Qui-Gon moved, Obi-Wan moved, and the two took to dejecting each and every distant move displayed by Maul.

That was not to say it was easy, of course. Between the physicality and ferocity of Maul’s magical and non-magical aggression, it was still throwing the both of them through the ringer. Obi-Wan’s face was red, but laser focused and never relieved with pride if he managed to land some sort of attack. 

They left out the doorway they came and through the third floor corridor, only further exhausting themselves the smaller the quarters became. Maul began to literally bounce off the walls, running up them and doing backflips to dodge and alternatively, to gain traction. As his history showed, he wasn’t purely invested in the magical portion of a fight, but the physical combat as well. 

Up the stairs they went to the very top, a difficult task when Maul decided to turn the steps into slippery goo in his wake and fire on the railings. Qui-Gon had learned the latter of that sequence on his own the hard way. Obi-Wan charged ahead, more athletic than he gave himself credit for, and twice as brave. It was a lethal combination, though not one Qui-Gon would fool himself into believing would be enough to seizing Maul completely. They needed to distract him until Windu found them.

They needed help.

Maul was quite pressed when Obi-Wan managed a leg-locker spell on him, though it was only one leg by his aim. It wasn’t his fault, since Qui-Gon had to shove him aside to avoid wand arrows that came straight for his head. 

Even still, there was no doubt that they were fighting better together. 

The ceiling of the pointed tower crumbled, specs of dust and later actual pieces of infrastructure raining down on them and hurrying their pace. When reaching the small bridge that connected the two towers, Maul blasted the center as he ran ahead.

“Where’s he going?”

“The classrooms, it seems.” Qui-Gon answered as he tried to catch his breath. “Anakin-”

“-Is safe.” He said with resounding certainty, his blue eyes sharper than glass as he regarded him with shoulders back and his jaw squared. He was still shorter than Qui-Gon, but it was evident now more than ever that he was a child no longer. Yes, Obi-Wan was ready. Or was it that he had no choice but to be ready?

It pained Qui-Gon’s very soul, because children fighting the battles of adults never soothed him. They leapt over the chasm and through the already crumbling tower that dwindled all the way down, catching Maul at his heels after a few flights of rapidly following suit. He was either leading them to the belly of his trap or he was trying to shake them. Qui-Gon didn’t know how that spoke for their success as his opponents, but was willing to take any wins offered to them.

They were far from finished in their pursuit, as the tower began to physically shake back and forth. Taking this battle to heart, or whatever stood in place of it, Maul turned, charging up the stairs with a sword at hand pointed straight at them.

On instinct rather than through thought, Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan hard against the side of the wall, narrowly preventing him from meeting the tip of the blade. 

“Stupefy!” He yelled, but missed and Maul went for the younger man again, a tight smile on his lips as he flipped forwards against the current of gravity and spun the sword straight towards them. Obi-Wan, who was stronger than he looked, caught Maul’s wrist before the finality of the attack could be completed. Using his entire body weight, he flung them down, doing his own half-assed little stunt to avoid being stabbed. 

Qui-Gon seized his moment to attack, turning the coat of arms by the doorway onto Maul, giving them three fighters on their side. This didn’t stop Maul, who only seemed delighted by the challenge and swung at the ground to encourage it.

Obi-Wan scrambled off the ground in time and trotted alongside Qui-Gon as the knight moved forward and Maul backed himself up to the wall of the rounded tower, clashing his sword with the knight’s, meeting every swing with one of his own caliber. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, meanwhile, tried to use this brief moment of distraction to their advantage and fired whatever spells could come to their mind. 

Obi-Wan had gotten even more creative and used a tongue fattening spell, likely trying to limit his airway.

It didn’t seem he even minded the limited mobility, though it only seemed to anger him that he was wasting his time. Maul had the advantage, being alive, but the knight had nothing to lose. Sometimes, that wasn’t a strength. 

In a fit of unbridled rage, which was the only way either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan could describe what transpired next, lightning rang through the sword and Maul leapt into the air, bringing the blade straight through the empty head of the knight and using the momentum of this force to fling the still sparking helmet towards them, hitting Obi-Wan directly in the stomach and sending him flipping over the railing with the added help of Maul diving forward to punch him square in the face. 

“Immobulus!” Qui-Gon hollered, pointing his wand at Obi-Wan’s collapsing body just before he could hit the bottom stone at full-force. He was knocked out, nothing more, or maybe that’s what Qui-Gon needed to convince himself to continue edging through this battle.

The sword came down, achieving not a speck of flesh, but slicing Qui-Gon’s wand clean in two against the marble railing to their right. It was the closest he’d ever been to Maul and he understood why few wanted to approach him. He could feel the turmoil within this shell of a man, who was only driven by his own hate. He was like a walking timebomb who was expected to walk the earth like a person.  

“When I’m done with you, I’ll kill the kid too,” Only he wasn’t referring to Anakin, but Obi-Wan.

“You won’t have the chance,” Qui-Gon said and kicked up his foot to toss the former knight’s sword into own hand. He was taught to wield by Count Dooku long ago, adopting many different tactics. It had always been in a gentlemanly fashion before, but Maul knew no such artistry or decency in this field. He was a predator and while he may have been playing with his food, he would still want nothing more than to collect the prize.

They backed out of the exit, Qui-Gon pursuing Maul as their blades clinked and clanked at rapid speed, each performing offensively without any pauses or breaks. Qui-Gon took his first success as they approached the classrooms and he managed to knock one of Maul’s wands free and clattering onto the ground. The Sith swordsman paid no mind, flipping backwards and inviting Qui-Gon to chase him into yet another trapped space.

He knew he was better where he could be afforded more breathing room, but at the moment, this was not a battle where Qui-Gon dictated the rules. Rarely, did the heroes get to do much of that in history. It was all about adaptivity and believing in oneself and the magic that lay within them. 

“I am one with magic and the magic is within me.” He chanted on a harmonic loop inside his head, ignoring every fiber of his being that broke apart as they crashed through Professor Palpatine’s office of all places.

Perhaps, he was trying to pay a visit to his favorite professor. He looked disappointed even through the mask of focused disdain that he wasn’t present. He would never have known that Anakin might have been hiding here, after all. He lingered around the castle for a little while, but not long enough to see the students interact. 

Thinking a bit like his enemy, Qui-Gon seized the weakness, going in for an elongated stalemate of the inner strengths, bringing them up close and personal.

“Who do you work for?” He asked calmly.

He knew that nothing splintered more than serenity or moreover, when their dastardly deeds took no effect on their desired target. Predictably, Maul clenched his yellow teeth to bare.

“I work for no one.” He scowled and shoved them apart, spinning and beginning a new onslaught of attacks that Qui-Gon met and dodged. The dodged shots ended up as holes that would need to be patched later and each designated attack seemed to chip away at him more and more.

Maul might have possessed an eternal source of energy from the cruelty at his very core, but he did not envy him for it.

They shuffled onto the external viaduct, which stretched back to the courtyard outside the Great Hall again, back towards the common rooms. He couldn’t let that happen. Qui-Gon knew that this was it. This long stretch of smooth stone that expanded over the chasm beneath them, was where this needed to end.

As if reading his mind, Maul closed in on him, making Qui-Gon overshoot a swing and nearly set himself off balance. Maul’s sword came down hard on the stone balustrade to their side, cracking it with the power and magical tenacity it contained, before retracting and kicking Qui-Gon in the sternum.

He rolled, backwards, and landed on his feet just in time to collide blades harshly, feeling like the swords might break if they strike again. This didn’t stop either of them and Qui-Gon desperately tried to seek out a window to take the advantage. And then, he found it. Maul’s gloved finger twitched just as he was reaching for his other wand- a dirty trick in a match of the blades, but Dooku might have done the same in his modern state. 

Luckily, Qui-Gon didn’t necessarily need a wand. 

He snatched the wand from midair by the sheer willpower of doing so.

“Petrificus Totalus!” And while Maul leapt to the ground, his frame stilled in the air as he caught the end of the charm, hitting the ground hard with his sword stuck frozen in hand.

He let out a heavy breath of relief. He pointed the wand at Maul and tossed the blade to the side and knelt over him. Only the man’s face could move, so he didn’t grow too close at risk of literally being bitten, but Qui-Gon looked at him sternly.

“What business do you have with the boy?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Maul chuckled lightly, “To destroy him.”

“But for what? Because he’s a threat to you?”

“No,” He would have shaken his head if he could, “Because he’s a threat to all of us.”

Qui-Gon frowned, “That- No, he will bring about an end to monsters like yourself and whatever master you refuse to name.”

“Don’t you see?” Maul said, “He is the monster.”

The words trickled through Qui-Gon’s ears like rain hitting the hard sidewalk. That couldn’t be true. He was to bring balance. Though, it was never exactly said how. It couldn’t be. The prophecy spoke of a united world and for the hero, which was Anakin, to prevail at great sacrifice.

Or at least, that’s how he interpreted it after much studying. 

“That cannot be.”

“It has been written in fate. I have seen it,” And by the legitimate fear that plagued Maul’s gaze, he could tell the Sith was not lying about having been exposed to a plethora of horror, “He is but the pawn in a greater plan. Just like you and just like me.”

“He’s so much more than either of us,” Qui-Gon shook his head, keeping the wand steady at his throat, poking the skin ever so slightly. “Especially you.”

“I am merely trying to save us all,” Maul begged, “Just as you think you are. We are not that different. Skywalker isn’t either.”

“Anakin is the hero of this story, not you.” Qui-Gon said, determined now, “I will see to that.”

“No,” And just as quick as he fell, he moved too fast for Qui-Gon to even blink and the sword that had seemed frozen in time was thrust right into the pit of Qui-Gon’s stomach. Immeasurable pain soaked through him as he felt blood from all over rush through him and a varying list of parables cross his mind.

Maul brought him so close that their noses touched, “You won’t.” 

He unsheathed the sword from the pit of Qui-Gon’s stomach and let him fall backwards, hitting the stone unceremoniously as sound seemed to fall behind in slow, deep motions. The blood rushed from his body and breathing suddenly became labored beyond measure. He was faced with warm sunlight, though he found himself only growing colder by the second. Slowly, the bright blue around the high sun was becoming a tunnel and getting fuzzier. The pain in his stomach was less aching as it was dull and detached from him. He saw stars and galaxies and far more than the human eyes could see.

He saw blackness that occluded the stars and realized strangely that it was a man in a dark cape. This was Vader, he knew somehow, but he couldn’t quite explain why. But there was more and as he looked into the stars that gathered in the eyes of his helmet, he saw the fates for what they were. There was so much loss in this montage of multiple realities that spawned in front of him. There was agony, hate, betrayal, death. So so much death beyond his own.

It was strange, to realize that he was dying and to not really care about the logistics of that. Instead, he cared for what he saw next: happiness, love, family, weddings, babies, revolution against an unjust cause, rebirth. 

He saw the back of a man with white hair and a beard to match and while his heart initially spoke to him of his mentor, he found that the eyes that turned to meet him matched another that would grow to be wiser than them all.

He saw the good in the blond boy that everyone else feared. He saw the duality of the young brunette who was capable of far more than her small stature dictated. He saw friends he did and didn’t know. He saw them all come together and he saw them win. It was an imperfect future, full of not one, but many heroes. 

Some that were chosen ones merely by their own volition. That fact settled hard and heavy. There was still much obscurity to meet the hope. Nothing, even at these far reaches of the universe, was written in stone. If there was one thing that was clear: Anakin was the key. 

And in a flash he was back for a moment, given one last breath of life and to meet the tear stained eyes of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He failed. But there was still hope. 

***

“NO!” His cry was anguished and angry, his vision red like the blood dripping off the blade. He had already been running, hurrying to catch up with his mentor, not willing to leave him alone with that monster for more than a second longer than necessary.

He clearly hadn’t been fast enough.

He sprinted, faster still, wand automatically raised and flourished. A crack was heard as red light burst from his own wand and slammed into Maul, knocking him back a few feet and causing his sword to fly from his hand and over the bridge. He hadn’t even uttered the words, but his wand seemed to read his mind, connect with him and in this brief moment of connection, he hurtled as many spells as he could think of.

It was a dance of light. Maul had managed to pull his own wand out and was doing a fair job at blocking each colorful strike, but had yet to get an opening to counter. Obi-Wan tossed another stupify at Maul and it hit his protective spell so hard sparks flew.

“You’re too late,” Maul kicked a loose stone towards him, managing to distract him long enough that Maul could send a killing curse his way. He just managed to block it, the green spell falling apart just inches from his face. He staggered backwards nearly falling over the edge before launching another volley of attacks.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” Obi-Wan growled, although the pang in his chest reminded him of what he’d seen, what he hadn’t been fast enough to stop. He cast a smoke spell causing them both to be hidden within a dark cloud. Obi-Wan crept silently to the side, the only real chance he had was to catch Maul off guard. Just a few more steps-

A gust of wind kicked up from the center of the cloud blowing away the smoke screen and revealing an almost smug looking Maul. He grinned wildly, his yellow eyes gleaming like a tiger going for the kill.

Obi-Wan just managed to dodge as the spell Maul hurled blew a hole through the already crumbling parapet. He returned the favor with another stunning charm that did little more than knock Maul off balance.

Obi-Wan, however, took the opportunity rushing forwards a curse on the tip of his tongue before Maul fell backwards slamming a foot into Obi-Wan and kicking him back.

He stumbled to regain balance, but his foot slipped and time slowed as he desperately clawed for the edge of the bridge with his free hand. He swung there precariously, heart beating a mile a minute as he tried to think of something, anything. Maul grunted, he could only assume he was standing up again, making his way slowly towards what was surely Obi-Wan’s doom.

He looked to his wand, he couldn’t risk a spell, if he missed and hit the viaduct, he would surely be falling to his death. If he didn’t… Well he didn’t want to think of the terrible fate that would bring him. He swung his arm up, hand still gripping his wand, but allowing for him to pull himself up just high enough to see. Maul was approaching, wand twitching as he surely thought through every nasty spell he had at his disposal.

The dying sun came out from behind the clouds, reflecting its light off of something silver on the edge. A sudden burst of hope filled him as he whispered a series of spells that he hoped Maul took as nothing more than him praying for salvation.

Maul didn’t pause.

Obi-Wan dropped hold of the ledge flicking his wand upwards in order to soar up through the air landing behind Maul, just steady enough he was able to catch the silver sword, sapphires glittered across the bottom, a sight to behold if he weren’t busy lunging with it.

Maul had turned just in time to watch as Obi-Wan used every bit of strength, every bit of magic left in his body to bring the sword clear through his middle. The sadist had the decency to look surprised, shocked that he could be foiled by a scrawny 17 year old when so many had tried and failed before. Obi-Wan brought up his foot and kicked, returning the favor of pushing the Zabrak off the viaduct, he didn’t bother watching him fall.

The clatter of the sword falling out of Obi-Wan’s hand and onto the stone brought him out of his adrenaline induced daze and he turned his head almost robotically to where Qui-Gon still lay. He was breathing, but barely, each breath looked laborious even from afar.

“Qui-Gon!” One moment he was standing over where he committed a high wizarding crime and another he was on his knees next to his mentor. He ripped off his top layer and pressed over the wound desperately trying to stop the bleeding even though he could feel that his trousers were already being soaked through.

“No, no,” Qui-Gon batted his hands away, but it only gave Obi-Wan the determination to press harder.

“It’ll be alright, you’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan repeated to himself as he focused on the task at hand. A shaky hand caught his wrist and he tore his eyes away from the gore and met Qui-Gon’s deep blue eyes. Eyes normally filled with mystery and whimsy were focused just enough to quelm his fast-racing thoughts.

“Obi-Wan,” He pleaded, “Anakin-”

“Anakin’s fine!” Obi-Wan shook his head angrily, “I already told you he’s-”

“I need you to see that Anakin gets his training,” Qui-Gon grasped for his attention again and he gave it though he struggled too, “Anakin must become a wizard, he is the chosen one,” Qui-Gon spoke the words with a strong conviction as if he had been born with this knowledge and hadn’t found out along with the rest of them last year.

“Yes, sure, but Qui-Gon-” Obi-Wan tried, but froze when Qui-Gon struggled for a breath.

“Promise me Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon managed to pant, “Promise me you’ll see to it.”

“I promise,” He answered, they looked into each other’s eyes for a beat more before Obi-Wan returned to his task, wishing quite desperately that he’d gone with Satine to those first aid classes instead of the dueling club, “But don’t worry about that now, I-”

Qui-Gon’s breathing ceased.

There were no other sounds. He couldn’t hear the birds in the sky or the breeze through the trees; it was only silence. He felt his mouth form words, but couldn’t hear them. He moved his hands from Qui-Gon’s middle towards his shoulders shaking him once, twice, three times. He felt tears trailing down his face and he tried to wipe them away, likely just smearing his own face with the blood of both that murderer and of Qui-Gon. Merging the two of their beings together like they were twisted up into some horrifying cycle of fate. He pressed his head, body trembling, to Qui-Gon’s chest, praying to hear even an unsteady heartbeat.

All he could hear was silence.

He stayed there, unable to move and hardly unable to breathe at Qui-Gon’s side, sitting vigil for his mentor, his most trusted ally, the wisest man he knew. Eventually the bubble was bound to break and if it wasn’t Qui-Gon growing cold under him it was the hand that fell on his shoulder.

He flinched, whipping to the side prepared to fight another enemy, but his hands fell at the guarded look of Windu’s eyes. The professor tried to pull him away, but he broke out of his grasp with more strength than he’d thought he had left.

“Where’s Maul?” Windu crouched beside him, gently pressing Qui-Gon’s eyes shut. Obi-Wan couldn’t find it in himself to speak and he shook his head to try and convey that, but Windu just grabbed his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye, “I need to know if he’s still around.”

“I ki-” He tried, voice croaky and ruined in his silence, “He’s gone. Dead.”

Professor Windu said nothing, just placed a hand on his back for a moment more before standing. He swished his wand, brilliant red and gold sparks bursting out and filling the night sky, announcing to all that they were finally safe. However, after the display of colors he did not lower his wand and instead kept it raised, the tip glowing softly in the night’s sky.

Professor Plo Koon was the next to join them, his eyes sad and mournful under the light of their two wands. Then one by one the professors arrived, each taking in the scene and lighting their wands in silence. Obi-Wan felt much too numb sitting there on his own, magic exhausted from the fight, to locate his own wand much less light it in honor. Qui-Gon had never been much for ceremonies anyways, but the thought brought him no comfort. 

The unspoken vigil ended as Headmaster Palpatine lowered his own wand, followed by Professor Windu. Obi-Wan was stood up by the latter, this time he found no fight left in him, and escorted towards the castle. He kept an eye on Qui-Gon’s body for as long as he could, but surrounded by the Headmaster and various professors it was impossible to see long before he crossed the threshold into the school.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 8 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter eight

~|Charlie Gillespie|~

Emily called me Charlie and now I can’t stop thinking about it. “Hey dude! How you doing?” Jeremy asks when I walk into the garage for a band practice when I come back from the Music Store. I can’t hide the smile that’s tugging at my lips. “She called me Charlie.” Both Owen and Jeremy look at me, a little stumped. “I mean, that’s your name?” Owen fairly points out. “Yeah! But she always called me Charles, you know with that scowl on her face and the corners of her mouth curling up slightly because she doesn’t want to smile. But tonight she actually called me Charlie!” I can’t contain my excitement. I feel like bouncing off the walls, running a marathon, climbing the Kilimanjaro. All in one night. “Happy for you, bro, but can we rehearse now?” Owen asks, seemingly stressed out, “My parents are annoyed at me and need me home asap.” He rolls his eyes at the thought alone. I pat his shoulder and grab my electric guitar, so we can start rehearsing. “Let’s do Crooked Teeth?” I suggest, and both Jeremy and Owen agree. I can’t stop thinking about Emily though. She called me Charlie.

“Practice tonight?” Jeremy asks when we meet at school the following day. “Yeah, but after seven. I’m hanging out with Emily tonight.” Owen and Jeremy’s eyebrows raise simultaneously. “Like a date?” Jeremy wants to know. “No,” I reply faster than I wanted to. “No, I’m just going to hang out at the store, play my guitar while she cleans up.” My two best friends nod their heads in understanding. “You’re bringing your own guitar to the Music Store?” Owen questions. “No, uhm… There’s this one guitar I always play when I’m there and she called it mine last night, so…” Once again, I can’t withhold myself from smiling at the thought alone. “Is it that Fender CD-60 in black?” Owen asks. “Yeah, that one,” I reply. “That’s the one she was tuning when I went in the store to ask her about the Open Mic Night.” I raise an eyebrow at him. So it was her that tuned the instrument differently from how I did it last time I was there. “Might’ve been a coincidence though.” “Might be,” I say, nodding, not believing one thing. That was no coincidence. Either she did that to mess with me, or she wanted to play the guitar I always used because she missed hearing the sound while working. I’m kind of hoping for the latter, which also means she missed me. Kind of.

Emily hasn’t arrived at the Music Store yet. Only Ash is present, along with a dude I’ve never seen before. I wonder if he’s the other employee whenever Emily’s at school.

“Oh, hey! Charlie, right?” Ash approaches me when I’m about to grab my guitar.

“Yeah. Yeah, hi, Ash!” The woman is taller than me, her bright red hair cut into a pixie cut, and her eyeliner dark and defining. She looks really cool. “Emily not here yet?”

“I’m afraid not. She might’ve been just held up at school or something. She’ll be here soon.”

“Okay, good. I wanted to ask her something.”

“Like on a date?” Ash wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“What? No!” My answer sounds way too defensively. “I wanted to ask her something about music.” Now she has this face that just tells me she doesn’t believe one thing I’m saying. I wasn’t planning on asking Emily on a date. Not that I don’t want to. I just think it’s too soon. She’s just warming up to me, I’m not going to jeopardize that by asking her on a date.

“Ah, too bad. I think you’d be a great couple.” I manage to offer her a smile while my insides are heating up. “I actually wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“To ask Emily out?” I ask, totally confused and too focused on my body heating up.

“No, no!” she scoffs, “No, I wanted to ask if you would help me out and polish some of the guitars? Most of those are just there for display since we have the actual for sale ones in the back in stock, but they’re in dire need of a good polish and my new assistant is shit.” I widen my eyes, knowing he’s walking around here and heard that. “It’s my brother, I’m allowed to say that,” she whispers to me and winks, comforting me a little bit. “I don’t mind paying you for it?” The offer sounds compelling, but I’ve been playing their guitars for weeks without ever paying for anything except when I actually purchased something.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I’ll do it for free. I’m here every day anyway.” Ash offers me a smile.

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I’m asking.” I open my mouth to say something else, but Ash has already turned back to her ‘shit assistant’. So, I close it and turn around to get to the guitars. I grab the one next to the black Fender, a mahogany Fender, when Ash brings me the polish to get to work. Which is also when the bell over the door rings, signaling a new client in the store. I look up to see if I’d recognize them from the neighborhood, and when I do, I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. It’s Emily. And with the low sun shining through the large windows behind her, she almost looks like an angel. She already has the voice for it.

“Hey, Charlie,” she greets with a wave.

“H-Hi, E-Emily.” I’m not sure why my mouth can’t form the proper words, but I’m struggling.

“Is Ash exploiting you now?” She points at the polish and the guitar in my hands.

“I mean, I’m here all the time anyway, so…” Emily raises an eyebrow before making her way to the cash register where Ash and her brother are fighting. Now I’m curious what she’s going to do since she didn’t really react to what I said.

“Are you exploiting kids for free now, Ashlynn?” She always uses full names when annoyed. Noted. Ash turns to face Emily, mid-conversation with her brother, her eyes wide.

“I didn’t pay you on Monday either because you told me you would do it for free, just as he said he’d do it for free. I’m just calling it a win-win situation,” she shrugs.

“He doesn’t work here though, I do. If I take non-paid hours, that’s my problem. He doesn’t work here. He has no contract. You know that brings both of you in trouble, right?” Ash’s eyes widen as if she’d forgotten about all of that since she’s been too busy with her brother. Deciding to hop into savior-mode, I hop off the bench I’m sitting on and rushing towards the girls. “I really don’t mind, Emily. If this means I get to spend time with you, I’d do anything.” Emily’s mouth curls up into a shy smile as her cheeks turn pink.

“Anything?” Ash asks with eyebrows raised.

“Don’t,” Emily says quickly, the tint in her cheeks not leaving, but the smile does, “even think about it. He’ll do the polishing while I clean up, but that’s it.” Ash wants to add something, but Emily gives her a sharp look that makes her shut up. “Now get your brother home.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” she salutes her employee before grabbing her brother by the sleeve and tugging him along through the store until they’re at the door. “Be good, you two!” she yells before shutting the door and leaving me and Emily alone.

“You really didn’t have to stand up for me to your manager like that,” I tell her while she gets behind the counter to sort things through. “Are you going to get in trouble?”

“No, I’m not going to get in trouble. Ash and I know each other very well and we talk shit to each other all the time. She told me I could always call her out on things I didn’t like,” she explains to me whilst sorting through some papers.

“Oh… okay!” I reply, not entirely sure what to say to that, “You still didn’t have to do that though. I don’t mind polishing guitars, especially if it means I get to spend time with you.” Emily’s face lights up again and I can see her looking at me through her lashes.

“That’s sweet, Charlie, but she still doesn’t get to just pick someone who comes here a lot and tell them to do something. Especially without a contract. You can get into a lot of trouble.” All I heard was “You’re sweet, Charlie”. I don’t really care what else she’d said. I’m sweet.

“Won’t you get into trouble for letting customers in after hours?” I ask instead.

“Do you

want

me to kick you out?” I shake my head vigorously, raising my hands in defense, lifting the guitar in the meantime.  

“I’m just gonna…” I nod to the bench I’d come from.

“Yeah,” she replies, that mischievous smile cracking through her tough façade again.

While she handles a few last customers, I admire her from afar while polishing up the guitars. I can’t help but notice how her smile comes and fades with every customer. It’s her customer-service-smile, I can tell. A smile far from the ones she gives me. I also notice how she strains herself, trying to keep from rolling her eyes too much at annoying customers. Or how her lashes flutter whenever she laughs at something someone has said, which I’m sure is a fake laugh too because it wasn’t that funny. Or how she rubs her nose when she’s concentrating.

“UGH!” she groans when turning the little board to tell customers the store has closed for tonight. “People are so dumb!”

“How have you not punched anyone yet?” I ask her, trying to lighten the mood, but it only lands me a sharp glare. The glare only lasts for a second though, as if it was a reaction to what I said but then she realized who said it and softened.

“I have almost punched someone,” she says with a smirk, “On several occasions. Mostly when they’re middle-aged women, thinking they know what they’re doing.” I can’t help but laugh. I would also nearly punch middle-aged know-it-all women if I punched women.

“I admire your willpower to withhold yourself,” I compliment, which earns me a smile. A real smile. None of her customer-service smiles.

“You can stop polishing now,” she tells me. I open my mouth to tell her I don’t mind, but she stops me. “Please, stop polishing the guitars and play one for me. My work gets done faster with your music in the background.” I can feel my lips curling up at that. Maybe she did miss me the other day when she tuned my guitar.

“I’m actually working on a song,” I say while placing the last polished guitar in its place and taking the black Fender instead. “Maybe you could help me on the parts I think suck?” She opens her mouth, and I know what she’s going to say, so I quickly add, “I know you can’t write with me, but I just want your honest opinion, okay?” Her mouth closes and changes into a smile instead, which then changes into a lip-bite. It nearly sends me.

I strum the guitar and begin playing the chords I’ve been working on for a while now, then I start singing the pre-chorus and the chorus I have so far.

“I wanna fly Come alive Watch me shine”

I watch Emily, who’s smiling while grabbing a broom to start sweeping up the place. I quicken the pace of the song a little.

“I got a spark in me Hands up if you can see And you're a part of me Hands up if you're with me”

Before I can continue with what I had, Emily chimes in with something better.

“Now 'til eternity Hands up if you believe Been so long and now we're finally free”

I stop playing to reach for my notebook in my backpack.

“That’s way better than what I had,” I tell her, causing her smile to grow.

“What else you got?” she asks, not taking her eyes off the floor as she sweeps, but I know she’s really interested. Otherwise she wouldn’t ask. Emily is the sort of person, I noticed, who would only ask further if interested. If it doesn’t interest her, the conversation is over.

I play the same chords again and sing the next verse, hoping she’d complete it.

“We're all bright now What a sight now Coming out like we're fireworks”

Her voice is a little soft and hesitant, but I still hear it perfectly.

“Marching on proud Turn it up loud Cause now we know what we're worth”

I nod my head excitedly whilst grabbing my notebook again and writing down her lyrics.

“You’re really talented, Emily,” I tell her honestly, then go back to softly stroking the strings of my guitar. “I can’t wait until you let your creative juices out in the world and, you know, write with me. Properly.”

“This is all because of you, Charlie. Your words… I don’t know… They just perfectly flow with what I create in my own mind.” I’m stumped by that response. That’s exactly how I feel too. We fit so well together, songwriting-wise. It’s a pity we can’t do this more often.

“How can I convince you to join our band?” I blurt out without thinking, and it startles her too. At first, I think she’s going to shut me out again, call me Charles again, give me that scowl. Instead, she halts her sweeping and slowly looks up at me.

“I’m not sure… I guess it wouldn’t hurt to think about it.” I don’t think I was this happy when finding out we got a gig, but I jump up from the bench, leave the guitar on it, and run up to her, picking her up into a tight hug.

“I didn’t say yes, Charlie,” she says, laughing loudly. I slowly put her back on the floor. Our faces are inches away from each other. “I didn’t say yes…” she repeats but this time in a whisper. I’ve never seen her from up close like this. Her eyes glimmer and I finally notice the faint freckles decorating her nose and cheeks. My heart thumps in my chest, but all I can do is hope she doesn’t hear or feel.

“I know,” I finally reply, “But thinking about it is a start.” She stares at me for a while like I’m the only person on this planet for her. I’ve never felt anything like this. This feeling of feeling wanted, of feeling seen.

My lips part a little, my lungs not getting enough oxygen through my nose, and as I glance from her eyes to her lips and back, I swear she’s leaning in too. My eyes flutter shut when I see her eyelashes fluttering too. Her breath tickles my lips. It’s almost—

Our lips brush slightly when the bell of the store rings through the entire shop. Emily and I both jump apart, startled, like deer caught in headlights. The redheaded Ash gives us a sheepish smile when she realizes what she’s interrupted.

“I’ve interrupted a special moment, haven’t I?” she hisses, “I’m so sorry!”

“No!” Emily says defensively, which makes me turn my head towards her to see what she has to be all defensive about. “No, you’re fine. Nothing was happening.” Oof, ouch. That hurts.

“Okay…” says Ash, clearly not believing a word Emily says. “I forgot my backpack in the back.” She points to the door behind the counter before actually moving to go and get it.

“You can go home, Charlie. I’ll lock up with Ash,” Emily orders sweetly, suddenly very absent and withdrawn. As if nothing just happened. Like she said.

“Don’t you want me to walk you home?” I suggest, hoping she’ll say yes.

“Uhm, no, that’s fine. I’ll ask Ash for a ride. Thanks though,” she gives me a smile that’s supposed to be comforting, but really isn’t.

“Okay…” I mumble and turn to grab my backpack and place the guitar in its place. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Please, say yes, please, say yes.

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely,” she replies, “I mean, you do have a lot of guitars left to polish.” She points at the wall of guitars, offering me a teasing smile this time. At least she’s not sick of me or doesn’t find it too awkward what just happened a couple seconds ago.

“Right, yeah!” I chuckle, “Yeah, see you tomorrow, Emily.” I raise my hand in a wave and leave the store, hearing her shout a “see you tomorrow, Charlie!” back.

I’ve got no clue what happened just then. But I wanted it to last longer. I wanted it to last forever.

Taglist: @parkeret​​ @lukeys-giggle​ @hannahhistorian92​ @gingerxarmy​  Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this story/any of my other works!

[fyeah-bangtan7]

SUGA “I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music”

SUGA has this way of talking passionately with a deadpan look on his face. Full of passion about his life and music.

How is your shoulder? SUGA: Good. I think it’ll get even better once I take off this brace. Apparently, it takes several months for a full recovery, but I'm trying to get better as fast as possible.

How does it feel like to have resolved a problem that has distressed you for long? SUGA: First of all, I'm glad. The pain is one thing, but when my shoulders got worse, I couldn't even raise my arms. But when I heard that this might recur when getting the surgery at a young age, I waited for the right time and had decided to get it done early next year regardless of the COVID-19 situation. I had planned to get the surgery after the year-end stages, but I got it done this year (2020) because my doctors advised me to start preparing early for next year’s promotions and activities.

How does it feel like watching the other members doing promotions? SUGA: I can't say it feels great. I could see the emptiness because we've been together as a group of seven for so long. Not necessarily because I'm not there but because something that should be there is missing? Is that what made you join the promotion as much as possible? You shot lots of video footage in advance and you even appeared in the Mnet “2020 MAMA” through VR. SUGA: Fake SUGA (Laughs). There’s this 3D studio where we shot it. I shot, scanned, and acted there, but couldn't see the actual result at the studio. I thought a sense of displacement was unavoidable, and that was exactly the case. (Laughs) I acted normal because it would have been aired anyway even if I hadn’t had the surgery, but it seems a lot because it’s aired after the surgery.

You must feel restricted not being able to go on stage. SUGA: The thing is, it's only been a month after I got surgery, but my absence on stage is so apparent. But my doctors keep telling me that I shouldn't be impatient and in fact, many athletes get a resurgery when they return to the field without proper rehabilitation. So I'm working on trying to care less. For the first two weeks after surgery, I felt so frustrated that I tried out new things. I even watched movies I didn't watch.

What movies did you watch? SUGA: I watched ‘Samjin Company English Class’ as it happened to be on IPTV, and now I have ‘Tenet’ on my list. ‘Parasite’ was the last movie I saw at a cinema. As the social distancing measures became stricter, I haven’t been going outside, except going to the hospital. I even eat at home. I'm also watching a lot of TV nowadays. Watching music shows like ‘Sing Again’, ‘Folk Us’, and ‘Show Me The Money 9’ made me think of what I should do in the upcoming days. Could you elaborate on that? SUGA: A lot of candidates on ‘Sing Again’ are very talented but hadn't had the opportunity, and on ‘Folk Us’, I noticed that many took their own guitars on stage. I started playing the guitar lately and I'm having this urge to broaden my scope of music. And since my interest in the music industry in the U.S. grew, I'm getting prepared, studying English and all. What fueled your interest? SUGA: In some ways it’s the most commercially developed market. You could lose the industry attention in a flash if it's not feasible. So in this system, you would try everything and that would be an efficient way. I want to do music for a long time, and to this end, I always want to learn more about the global music industry because I want to do music that’s loved not only in Korea, but also in the U.S., Japan and Europe. Speaking of which, it seems BE was influenced from music of the past rather than today's trends. SUGA: I especially like impromptu music. I love the songs that were made in one take instead of being recorded several times. In this era of crossover genres, the desire to do better in music is growing inside me. As the genres become more blended, the melody you use must be more important. Does starting to play the guitar affect your composing in any way? SUGA: I always liked using guitar sounds. And I have always liked the Eagles. If you play the guitar, it’s way easier to write songs because you can carry it along wherever you go, pluck on the strings to create melody lines. Keyboards are difficult to carry around. (Laughs) I usually work on my laptop but I had this thought that I definitely needed an instrument. It accelerates my work and improves my understanding of chords. It makes me think you could intuitively make melodies. SUGA: It’s easier to write a song because you can intuitively make a progression and try many different things. During my work on ‘Eight’, IU had recorded and sent me a song from her phone. At the time I couldn’t play the guitar, so we tried to make sure we’re working on the same page when keeping track of each other's progress. That made me feel the need to learn an instrument.

This is actually before you started playing the guitar, but I found ‘Telepathy’ in BE very interesting. The varying melodic progressions between hooks for each member made me wonder if you wrote the melody intuitively for each part. SUGA: I tried a melody for the first time this year (2020), and as I started knowing the fun of music, it opened a lot of new doors for me. So it was kind of easy working on it. I just played a beat and wrote from the beginning until the end. Done. I wrote it in just 30 minutes. The song almost wrote itself. The trends of pop and hip-hop these days cross boundaries between vocals and rap. I like this trend. When I listen to your singing, it feels like you’re hitting the beats rather than singing along the notes. So I thought perhaps you're singing as if you're rapping. SUGA: When you're rapping, you just think of the rhythm, so it’s like simply putting on a melody to a rhythm. To define which comes first, I think melody adds to it while writing the rap. In ‘Life Goes On’, the lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me, nothing’s changed’ are somewhere in between. It's not rap but it’d be mundane to say it's a mere melody. SUGA: There are obviously songs where the rap needs to be highlighted. For example, in ‘Dis-ease’ or ‘Ugh!’, you have to be good at rap. But in songs that should be easy to listen to, impressive raps are not always the way to go. Sometimes, you want smooth transitions without obstacles. In that sense, the rap flow of ‘Blue & Grey’ was impressive. Rather than a dramatic effect that emphasizes each part, you extended the rap just as much as the slowing beat. SUGA: To be honest, this beat is difficult to rap to. The beginning of the song only has a guitar line, which made it even more difficult. I participated when we wrote lyrics for ‘Blue & Grey’ and I've always wanted to work on a song like this. It was because verse 1 talks about the theme of the song.

It seems you achieved almost everything that you wanted in BE. SUGA: I think it took less than a week to make my part in the album. After having written one or two melodies for ‘Life Goes On’, I wrote a version complete with rap, and liked it that I even worked on a separate arrangement and lyrics. Rather than pondering over the ways that might work, I choose to simply play the music and write. Many creators are unsure even after they’ve produced good work. How do you get the conviction to release your work? SUGA: Many musicians are unsure whether they should release their music or not. It was the same for me, but the thing is, you’ll never release anything if you nitpick everything. For example, if we release 10 songs, we have a chance to unveil them in concerts or fan events. And sometimes, as we listen to the song, we think, ‘Why does this part that had bothered me no longer bother me?’ Some things might feel awkward at some point, but in time, it no longer feels awkward. Even I forget about it. So it's more efficient to fine tune, looking at the big picture, rather than thinking too much about the details. On top of that, during promotions, I don’t have the time to pick tracks that others have sent for 10 hours. It would be a success for all of us if each of us play and write a melody in their own time and collaborate with others on the details. So the way of songwriting has evolved in many aspects. What motivated such evolution? SUGA: I think it evolved naturally. I've changed in personality this year (2020), as well as in terms of my interpretation and attitude toward life to the extent that I almost thought I've been rehearsing. How would it feel like if there were no stage to go to or anyone looking out for me? This thought made me realize the value of these things. In ‘Dis-ease’, you sing ‘I don’t know if it’s the world that's sick’. Was it this lifestyle that changed your thoughts about your work? SUGA: Yes. When I was young, I had embraced the belief that ‘It must be my fault’, but as I got older, I realized that this is not always true. Most of what I had thought was my fault was in fact, not my fault. On the other hand, there are things that I did well and times I had been lucky. ‘I NEED U’ came out during a time when you were still thinking, “It must be me”. After the members put on a stage with ‘I NEED U’ in KBS' ‘Song Festival’, you wrote on Weverse, “It’s the same as five years ago.” How would you compare with back then? (This interview was held on December 19, 2020.) SUGA: We've matured quite a bit. And our stage performances have become more natural. I still like ‘I NEED U’. Just listening to the beat makes me sentimental, and above all, the song came out nicely. So as I was watching this and that when I stumbled across old videos. Watching them made me think that we haven’t changed much.

In what aspect haven't you changed much? SUGA: Before the social distancing measures got stricter, I talked with the photographer for BE, whom I had met four years ago. The photographer was surprised that we hadn’t changed much after all the success, even though he had assumed we’d be very different. I'm amazed personally. I’ve had the chance to meet the members before your debut, but from your way of talking with members or others, it seems you haven't changed. SUGA: I think it's because we don’t give it a big deal about success. For example, it's incredible to be ranked first on the Billboards, but there’s also this sense of, “Okay, and?” Even the Grammys? (Laughs) SUGA: When we got nominated for the Grammy Awards, we thought, ‘Is this real?’ (Laughs) Of course we were delighted, but it didn’t make us think, ‘We're singers nominated for the Grammy.’ If you're nominated, you're nominated, and if you get the award, you get the award. You don't get shaken by that. I know it's a great award and would be so grateful if we receive it, but we know that nothing is possible without the tremendous support of our fans. What’s more important is that the fans are more flattered than us when we receive a great award. So everyone's rejoicing, but it’s like, ‘Let's do what we have to do.’ We've been training ourselves to keep finding our places, so no one remains overexcited. In ‘Fly To My Room’, there are lyrics that say, ‘This room is too small to contain my dream’, and ‘Sometimes this room becomes an emotional trash can, but it embraces me.’ I had this feeling that the room had been such a place and that you were accepting that you have changed. Then the essence must have remained the same. SUGA: It wasn’t easy to accept that we eventually change. But I think it's a good thing that we changed. What we did back then was possible only at that time, and we could change because of the things we had accomplished. Then, what new things are you dreaming about? SUGA: I'm eager to continue doing music. Since all performances were canceled due to COVID-19, I had a chance to talk to so many musicians in Korea. I talked with legendary singers as well as people who are my contemporaries. Talking with them once again made me realize that I love music so much. Because music is my profession, I can’t imagine myself not doing it. I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music.

What kind of music do you think you’ll be engaged in in the future? SUGA: I was greatly motivated when I saw the concert of Na Hoon-a last Chuseok . I wondered how many musicians would actually be able perform and write music for so long like he has. At that moment, it occurred to be that ‘I want to be like him’. He has passion and desire, and most of all, he is a superstar. A few years ago, I took my parents to a Na Hoon-a concert, and when they watched the performance last Chuseok, they said it was way less impressive to see him perform through the TV. (Laughs) That must explain your interest in a broader spectrum of music from instruments to composing and musical genres. Because you want to be doing this for a long time. SUGA: My goal is to continue doing music in any shape or form. In that sense, I have this great respect toward Cho Yong-pil. He takes the best sound there is and reinterprets it into his own. I think that’s something I want to emulate and keep changing and evolving so that I can continue doing music for decades to come. The lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me nothing’s changed’ must sound more meaningful for the fans because they will be listening to your music for a long time. SUGA: A month and a half in the current times must seem like a lifetime for the fans when we're far apart. I feel the same. But I think that's proof that we worked hard for the past seven years and that the fans have been passionately reaching out to us. I'm striving to get to them as fast as I can, and I'm eager to go on stage. I'm going through this because I want to be better on stage in a better condition, so don't be sad, and please hang in there a little longer.

[nastasyafilippovnas]

santhony + “No one will ever compare to you.”

better late than never, right? lol 

santhony + no one will ever compare to you, pre-canon, 1.5k (ao3)

It was two in the morning and the couple on the apartment upstairs was arguing again. From his place in bed, seating with his back against the headboard, Anthony could hear their shouts loud and clear through the thin material of the ceiling. Next to him, Siena slept soundly, unbothered by the confusion. Since they had started seeing each other three months ago, it had always been like this. She had told him she learnt early on to get her rest whenever she could, because you never knew when a rehearsal would run late. Before her, Anthony had never thought how much work went into becoming an opera singer, now it seemed like every moment she wasn’t with him, Siena was either rehearsing or performing. Her hair was sprawled on next to him and he played mindless with it, his father’s watch on his other hand. Soon he would have to leave her. He wanted nothing more than lay down and curl next to her, enjoying the few hours they had left together.

Unlike her, though, he had always had trouble falling asleep. There was always so much going on, problems with the state, Daphne’s dowry to secure for her season next year, it felt like his brain could hardly shut down. And when he did manage to close his eyes, even then the smallest of noises would wake him up. Needless to say, he never got much sleep whenever he spent the night at her place.

The apartment itself wasn’t that bad. Anthony had seen the awful conditions in which the lower classes lived, among the filth, sewage and rats infesting their houses. Her place, despite being terribly small, was at least clean and in a decent neighborhood. Unfortunately, in order to pay the rent, she had to share it with four other singers and there were only two bedrooms. That meant that, whenever one of them was entertaining a male companion, at least one of them had to sleep on the threadbare couch on the living room. Tonight was Lisa’s turn, if he was not mistaken. And then tomorrow or the day after it would be Siena’s turn to spend the night on the couch as Lisa had her gentleman over. Anthony frowned at that thought. Her bed was already uncomfortable, the mattress too hard and thin. He didn’t like imagining her on that couch, on the cold living room, sleeping without any of the comforts he was so used to having every night.

A loud bang echoed through the room, indicating that one of the members of the couple upstairs had finally had enough and had decided to leave, taking his frustrations on the door. Instead of just leaving, however, the man continued the discussion outside and woke up the entire floor above them.

Anthony sighed in frustration. That was the last straw. They couldn’t continue like this.

“Siena…” He shook her shoulder lightly to get her to wake up.

“Anth…” She woke up fully before finishing his name, leaving Anthony disappointed. He had already told her she could call him by his first time and yet she insisted on keeping the formalities between them. “My lord, is everything okay? Are you leaving already?” Siena asked, glancing at the open window for a moment, to confirm that it was still dark outside. She wasn’t a clingy person, but she still felt like her time with Anthony was always cut short. It worried her sometimes she was getting too attached to something that would end, sooner rather than later. 

It wasn’t hard to figure out what was going through her mind, Anthony thought. He had promised he would stay the night. And he had wanted to. Nothing gave him more pleasure than the smile on her face when she woke up and realized he was still there, wrapped around her. He had thought they could even have breakfast together. Staying with her wasn’t the problem. 

Her annoyingly loud neighbors who were the problem. That and the threadbare couch. And the shared bedrooms. And the twin-sized bed with the thin mattress. And the one communal bathroom down the hall, now that he thought about it. This whole place was the problem. Siena couldn’t continue to live like this. 

“You need to move.” He said, instead of answering her questions.

She laughed at him, seating up next to him. It was cute how he thought she could just up and leave because her neighbors kept him awake at night. The rich were really something else.

“Do you know how hard it was to get this place with this price? Lisa had to seduce the landlord. I know you hate all the noise but it’s not that bad really.”

Just to contradict her, another loud sound came from upstairs and Anthony could swear he heard the ceiling cracking under the weight of whatever they had thrown around.

He raised his eyebrows at her and she could feel herself flushing under his stare. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t understand how this was an improvement.

“So they get loud, who doesn’t sometimes? We certainly did too last night, my lord.” He was about to protest, but she continued, “Maybe once I start getting cast as lead, I can get my own place. Mr. Piazzi told me he would pay me more once that happens.”

“Siena…” Anthony turned around, caressing her face and trying to get her to relax. He hadn’t wanted to make her upset. “You don’t have to worry about the money. I can get you a better place. A nice house in a good neighborhood, some servants…I could give you some money for expenses too. You don’t have to live like this.”

Siena had had an arrangement with an older gentleman before Anthony, just as she had started at the opera. She wasn’t ashamed of it, she would’ve never survived in London otherwise. But her and Anthony had never discussed payment before. Oh, he had given her stuff, a new dress, some pretty expensive earrings, a necklace once. It was standard practice. Siena wasn’t stupid to not know what it all meant. He had been showing his appreciation for her services. And yet, for a moment, she had forgotten who they were. She had let herself pretend they were just two people who liked each other. 

“And what am I supposed to do in exchange of that, my lord? Sit around and wait for you the whole day? Open my legs whenever you want?” She couldn’t hide the anger in her voice. She hated Anthony at that moment for reminding her what she was and what she would always be for a man like him. Just another convenient whore.

“No, of course not! You…you can do whatever you want. You are still going to be who you are.” Anthony paused, his hands going through his hair in frustration. “This is not coming out like I wanted it to.”  

“Try again, my lord. How did you want it to come out?” The words were still biting, but less so. 

Anthony looked down, and Siena noticed he was turning around the watch in his hand. 

“I don’t know how to do this right. I’ve never been in a relationship before.” He had been with other women, of course, but none had lasted as long as what he and Siena had. And none that he wanted to last for a lot longer. “I just…I thought about you spending the night in that sorry excuse for a couch in the cold living room and I wanted to do something about. There’s no reason for you to live in these conditions when I can give you something better.”

Siena bit her lip. He was still staring down at the watch and she moved closer, until she was seating in his lap. She took the watch from his hands and carefully placed it on the bedside table.

Anthony finally looked her in the eye.

“I want to take care of you.” He said simply.

She could hear the honesty in his words and see it in his eyes. Her left hand went up to his hair, caressing it softly, while the right one settled on his bare chest, above his heart.

“What happens when you grow tire of me?” Anthony opened his mouth, but she quickly put a finger on top of it to stop him. “Or when you finally marry someone?”

He kissed the finger still on top of his mouth. “If I may speak now…” Siena removed her hand from his mouth. “I think you’re forgetting a couple of things.” He said, his hand going around her waist and bringing her closer to him.

“What?”

“I have three brothers, two of them already old enough to have children, so I don’t have to get married. And…” He caressed her chin and brought her closer for a slow kiss. Before Siena could deepen it, he pulled apart. “Why would I marry? No one will ever compare to you.” 

He saw her smile for a moment before kissing him hard in the mouth and he knew it meant she had accepted his proposal.

“I can’t wait until I have you on a proper bed.” He said between the kisses.

“Shut up before I change my mind.” 

[aleksandermorozovaa]

Over cookies?

Charlie Barber x Reader

Summary: Charlie comes home after a long day of work and is greeted by his two favourite people. But a nice night is apparently the last thing the universe has in store for him. 

Warnings: Angst? over the top drama? 

A/N - My first time writing for Charlie, and I love this man more than anything. I’m posting this since I’ve been sitting on it for a while now and I’m hoping ya’ll can encourage me to continue? We shall see.

AO3 link: XX

Part 2: XX

Tags: @commanderbensolo​

The sound of laughter echoed throughout the house, bringing a smile to Charlie’s face as he closed the door behind him and hung his keys on the little hook on the wall. A hook that you’d insisted on putting there after he’d forgotten his key three times last month, causing you to leave work early to let him into the house. At the time he’d argued that it was a one-time mistake, a lapse of memory as he rushed out of the house to get to rehearsal or a meeting. But he’d not forgotten them since the hook had been installed, a fact he could tell you’d been dying to point out. 

Charlie shrugged off his coat and hung it between yours and Henry’s new favourite bright green coat that he’d insisted on getting because it reminded him of some cartoon character that he couldn’t name. Nicole would know, you probably would too, not that it mattered in the grand scheme of things, but he felt guilty that the name kept escaping him.

“Dad!” Henry called running towards him with a look of glee on his face. Henry paused to quickly hug him but before Charlie could move his hand to ruffle his hair as he usually did Henry pulled away and bounded towards the kitchen. “No time! Gotta move!” He called.

“You’re home early.” You said as you came down the stairs, folding your cardigan over body. It was getting colder out, not terribly so but enough that you couldn’t leave the house without a coat.

Call it his director’s brain, but he couldn’t help but think you looked angelic standing there, as if you were descending from the heavens to bless humanity. If he was in the theatre, if this was one of his plays, he’d make sure to have the lights dimed and have one singular spotlight on you, lighting you up so that everyone’s attention was forced to be on you, so they couldn’t look away. It was what someone as amazing as you deserved, not that you’d like that. You shied away from the spotlight. Something he failed to understand.

“Finished rehearsal early. Everyone’s in a foul mood, no point continuing so I called it.” Charlie explained as he toed off his shoes and pushed them against the wall. It wasn’t their proper place, and he’d rectify that later but right now he wanted you in his arms.

“Everyone seemed in a fine enough mood at lunch when we visited.” You said with a small frown as you made your way down the last few steps, pausing on the bottom one, leaving you almost eye level with him. A habit you had, stepping on anything you could to make the height difference between the two of you smaller. “I just think you missed me.” You said reaching out to him, your fingers hooking around his belt loops, tugging forward. Not forcefully, but enough for him to get the picture, enough for him to get excited.

He let out a hum as he moved towards her wrapping his arms around her pulling her tight, breathing her in. She smelt of coffee and something sweet that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“There might be some truth to that.” Charlie said pressing a kiss onto the top of her hair. In reality, he had been the one in a foul mood, after the two of them left at lunch to go to the park he’d been disappointed he had to stay behind. She of course had to keep sending him photos of Henry having a great time causing him to be completely unfocused and instead constantly checking his phone for more. One photo of him climbing a tree which at first had his parental instincts going wild but then he saw how close he was to the ground and he calmed down. There had been one with Henry holding a rabbit at some pop-up petting zoo and finally a selfie of the two of them, Henry covered in cream from the hot chocolate in his hands. He’d saved that one as his lock screen.

In the end Wallace had suggested they call it a day, which Charlie didn’t try to argue against. Instead he’d nodded and packed his things up in record time to get home to his favourite people.

“Y/N!” Henry called running back towards them, he held something in his hands, an egg timer Charlie noticed. Y/N turned her head which had been buried in Charlie’s shirt. “Stop being gross and come help me! They’re going to burn!” Henry’s bouncing up and down trying to express the urgency of the situation.

Charlie raised an eyebrow at the pair as he allowed Y/N to disentangle herself from him. Henry promptly took her hand in his as he dragged her towards the kitchen.  He followed of course; his curiosity peeked.

Charlie settled against the kitchen counter folding his arms. He watched the pair of them crowding around the oven. Y/n gestured to Henry to move back so she could open the oven. Charlie took the chance to grab him by the shoulders and pull him back against him. “What have you two been up to.” He asked his son, ruffling his hair as he had attempted to do just minutes before.

“We made cookies.” Henry said looking up at his father with a grin. “I wanted to add gummy bears but Y/N said that it might be a disaster and you’d be upset that we wasted your secret stash.”

It was true he always made sure to have a packet of Haribo’s in the house and in his desk at the theatre, it was a guilty pleasure for him. When he was writing or planning or working on something practically tricky. The chewy texture and sugar rush did wonders to help his creative juices flow. He wasn’t sure why he hid them, other than Nicole had always given him hell for having them. Claiming it was encouraging Henry to have unhealthy habits, and he suppose it had stuck.

“You know about-“

“We know about your stash, honestly honey just because you’re built like a fridge and the only one able to see the top of it but that doesn’t mean you should hide things there.” Y/n said as she placed the tray filled with possibly the worst cookies he’d ever seen. They looked slightly over cooked and had melted into wonky uneven shapes, but he knew he’d still eat as many as he could get away with stealing.

“They’re burnt!” Henry whines looking at the cookies disappointed.

“Only a little!” Y/n said quickly in response. “Besides we have the other half of the dough ready to go in, and we know not to put them in for as long.” She added taking her oven gloves off and draping them over her shoulder.

“Maybe if you and dad didn’t spend so much time being gross we’d have two batches of good cookies!” Henry pouted and stepped out of Charlies arms. Clearly in a huff. Charlie looked up catching Y/N’s eye, she seemed hurt by Henry’s outburst.

“Hey now kid, don’t be like that.” Charlie said pulling Henry back into his reach, he gripped his waist and lifted him so he was sitting on the counter. Charlie’s arms on either side to stop him wriggling out as he predicted he would try to do.

“It’s the truth!” Henry protests, but it sounded more like tooth than truth, he’d lost his front teeth a week ago and his new ones were still growing in.

“Henry, sweetie it’s okay, we can make some more.” You say taking a step closer.

“Mom wouldn’t have burnt them. I wish mom was here.” Henry snaps and Charlie’s breath hitches. Giving Henry a chance to break from Charlie’s body prison and run. He didn’t even try to catch his son as he bounded away and up the stairs to his room. “I hate you!” Henry shouts before slamming his bedroom door.

Instead he turns his attention to you. You’d never experienced one of Henry’s outbursts, or at least not one aimed at you. You’d been there for him whenever Henry had screamed at him, it had hurt at the time fresh after the divorce. It had taken Henry a good year to get over his “mommy phase” as Nicole called it. Meaning he seemed to hate every second he spent with Charlie, and had no problem being vocal about it.

You’d held as he wept one night in bed after a particularly bad day. He’d clutched your waist and pressed his head into your chest, your shirt was soaked with his tears but you didn’t care. You’d ran you’d fingers through his hair and told him Henry didn’t mean it, that he was still processing the separation.

He wanted to do that for you now. To be that solid rock. 

“Sweetheart.” He starts seeing the hurt on your face. He wanted to reach out to you. 

“No, it’s okay Charlie.” You force a smile and move to go past him and he stops you, instead taking you into his arms.

“you know he didn’t mean it, don’t you?” he presses a kiss to your hairline, his lips hovering just above your skin.

“I do. You should go check on him. I’m going to go for a walk.” You pull away pausing to cup his cheek allowing him to press a soft kiss to your palm.

“Stay. Please.” He all but begs, it was getting late and he didn’t want you walking the streets when you were clearly upset.

“I just need a break, honey. I won’t be long. I promise.”

“Okay.” He knew better than to try and stop you when your mind was set on something.Instead he watched as you slipped on your shoes and coat before leaving. You didn’t let the door slam behind you like he normally did, everything you did seemed gentle like that. 

He waited until you’d made it to the bottom of the garden before turning away. Then he turned to the stairs and took them two at a time. 

“Henry.” he called as he stopped outside his door, he raised his hand to knock twice. 

“Go away.” Henry shouts back, Charlie knows by the wave in his voice that he’s crying. He’s torn between wanting to let Henry have his tantrum and wanting to deal with it now. He tried the door handle but Henry had clearly locked the door. Nicole’s voice plagued him then, berating him for letting Henry be able to lock his door. 

What if there was a fire? What if he hurt himself and was trapped. You’re so irresponsible. 

Fuck Nicole for being right, even if it was his made up version that did nothing but critisise his parenting. He took a step back, his back hitting against the wall with a thump. How had it all gone wrong so quickly? 

He’d been looking forward to coming home all day, to your smiling face and Henry’s excited chatter about dinosaurs or space or whatever else took his fancy that day. He’d spent all day recounting the ingredients in the fridge thinking about what him and Henry could make for dinner while you folded laundry or hoovered or just sat and relaxed. But here he was, you’d left and Henry was seemingly distraught. 

All this, over cookies.

[bumbershots]

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER TWO: MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY

Author’s note: Hello! Thanks a lot to everyone for reading this, I’m over the moon with the messages you sent after posting the first chapter. Keep them coming, and enjoy! ~ Alex

Story Masterlist ** Word count 2.3K ** 

If she was prettier and a bit smarter. If she were special, like the Instagram models that Teen Vogue features in their cover nowadays. She would have the guts to take three steps towards him and ask if he is who she thinks he is.

Harry is standing once again across from her, and she doesn't even know that he is wearing his beloved woolly jumper that has a picture of the planet Saturn on it, just for her. The girl wonders if they've heard of Styles on that planet, too. Of course they have, she scolds herself looking away from him at last, not believing her luck. For the third time on a Thursday, at half past three, he's jumping in the train right after her. The first time could've been luck, second one was a lovely coincidence but a third time? It's a charm. That's what her grandma would say.

But she isn't brave enough to walk up to him, not because of who he is, but the pressure and build up around the entire situation. What if he's a dickhead? She frowns at the thought, knowing it can't be true, not when his eyes, the so-called windows of the soul, are that nice.

They're both in a corner of the train this time, conversations start to sputter around as people try to keep their own talk ticking along on autopilot. He seems to be busy, reading Keith Richards' autobiography, she wants to talk to him about it, it's been a while since she read it though she still remembers it clear as day. The next one is his stop, she sighs in defeat at her own cowardly nature and takes out her mobile only to look busy.

Harry wants to talk to her, this is the third Thursday in a row, he's afraid there won't be a fourth one. He's back from his last meeting with Jack and Fernando, everything is set to start the renovation. He won't be taking this route anymore, it's now or never. But it's harder than he thought, to approach her and that's it, he doesn't know what he's supposed to do once he stands before her.

The speaker announces his stop, but instead of leaning away from the wall and walking out of the train, he flips the page of his book, letting the doors close and stays on the carriage for the next station. He is so nervous, a bit scared of his bold choice to stay on the line without a well defined plan. He's never been this nervous about talking to someone, the butterflies on his tummy at the mere sight of her are restless. Maybe if he scoots closer, little by little, he can nudge her side and mouth her a polite "hello," a warm smile afterwards so she doesn't think it's a come on. Except it is.

Harry closes his book, deciding that it's stupid and honesty is the best way to anything. He will just greet her and ask if he can buy her a cup of coffee someday, easy, breezy like Jack says. His green eyes follow her out of the train, they just reach Colindale station, before he can process what is going on or even move, the doors close and the vehicle is moving back to the tunnel. Away from her and his last chance. His mouth is dry and it's like he stuffed it to the brim with cotton.

He got off on Burnt Oak and switched direction, he was so mad at himself, the deep frown on his face said it all. This was supposed to be his chick flick moment and he ruined it by not doing anything at all. He keeps his face glued to the door closest to him, waiting for her to come up and smile at him in that knowing way. Perhaps then he would stand tall, mention that cup of coffee after introductions are made and she will agree. But she doesn't come back on the next station, or the three following ones. Harry gets off the train with a cloud looming above him, the wind is blowing in that nasty way that announces a storm following suit. The singer hurries to his home, trying to beat it.

The rain comes out of nowhere in full force just as Harry walks through his front gate, dashing to the inside of his house. He decides to fix himself a light lunch to keep his mind from wondering if she made it to her destination before the rain caught up with her. A text message from Jack does the trick, he sent him the address for Freddie's birthday. Harry can't believe that's tonight.

"Hello stranger," Gemma's voice greets the musician after the second ring. "All right?"

"All right, just forgot about plans I had for the evening," he hated to cancel dinner with his sister, "come with me?" Harry's tone is hopeful, she can almost picture his adorable cherub face, eyes sparkling.

"Is it with your teenage friends?" He hums trying to come up with a lie, "Harry we can have our dinner tomorrow night instead, I don't mind." As much as she loves her brother, that doesn't extend to that certain group of acquaintances.

"They're not that bad!"

"Baby brother, have fun with the lads, I'll see you tomorrow, pick me up at eight o'clock." She states before ending the call. Harry huffs before finishing his veggie wrap and jumps in the shower.

Perhaps he should've told Gemma that his mood tonight wasn't the best, that although he wanted to go out and about, he didn't want to do it alone. But her reasons to avoid his less mature group of mates are valid so he grabs his parka and his phone and, a little stooped, heads for the flat where the party is held.

A few years ago, he set himself three tasks: prioritise friends, learn how to be an adult, achieve a proper balance between the big and the small. Harry genuinely loves the fittings of his outfits before tour, playing his music for thousands. But he realised, as well, that the coolest things are not always the cool things. Tonight he's hearing anecdotes of how his friends sold almost everything they owned, to be able to afford a trip to the World Cup in Russia the year before. He knows that England almost made it to the final, but to see the agony and pain reflected on Freddie's eyes as he tells the story is truly humbling and heartbreaking.

"They had to escort me out, an hour after the match ended." The birthday lad finishes with glossy eyes. "I've never felt so powerless in my life, the world just seemed so unfair from then on, you know?" Harry doesn't, but he nods and finishes his drink. "But enough about good old me, what about you?"

"Same old, touring for a while, back in British soil before I take off again." He doesn't like giving rehearsed answers to his friends, but they're surrounded by at least a dozen people carrying out their own conversations while straining to hear what Styles says.

"Thinking about the next album already?" His friend's amazement is genuine, "can't believe what you'll hit me with next!" Freddie was his rocker friend. The one with an expensive vinyl collection, the one to never miss a Rolling Stones show, the one that religiously attended Glastonbury every year. Remembering this, Harry relaxed and decided to share with him a topic that left him vulnerable.

"You can expect a lot of break up songs that's for sure," he tries to joke but Freddie's smile falters a bit.

"How long has it been?"

"It'll be a year next month." He can't believe it still feels so recent and not at the same time. "I'm getting used to it." Freddie sighs and nods in understanding.

"I'm sorry you have to go through a shit thing like that, you're one of the good ones H," the green eyed musician is blushing, waving his hand at his companion in an attempt to dismiss his words. "It's the truth I mean... look around us, Jack has been on and off with Alexis for years," the two men observe the couple they're discussing, nothing seems wrong with them but Freddie's words are true, Jack has a habit of calling it quits with the redhead once she brings up marriage. "Kiera and Mosas cheat on each other all the time, we're not even sure if they're still together at this point... last but not least you have Alf, Christophe, Ruben and myself, four emotionally unavailable men who can't commit because they can't get their shit together." Silence takes over the two friends, it's deafening even though the background music can be heard loud and clear.

"I made some shitty decisions too, that's what drove her away," Harry wants to continue, the tequila shots seemed to have loosened his tongue.

"No, no, no you listen to me," Freddie's hands hold his younger friend's face carefully. "I know you're not a dishonest scummy man, you're allowed to make mistakes in a relationship and learn from them... don't be like Alf," he lets Harry's face go and nods towards the tallest guy in the room, "he had a brief relationship with a Portuguese girl, charmed her socks off and when she planned to move here guess what he did?"

"What?" Harry knew the answer, but he wanted to give his friend the benefit of the doubt.

"He cuts her off! Ghosting is what they call it nowadays. Just like that... and you think he learned, except that he doesn't!" His friend is now sounding too frustrated. "I saw him do the same thing to Al, perhaps it was a bit different she already lived here but she wanted more and just—" he can't finish his thought and Harry feels for his friend. "We all do that, it's a trend."

"Must be something in the water." The curly one tries to joke and he earns a soft smile from the birthday guy, along with a heartwarming hug. "You can always ring me Freddie, to chat and if I'm home see each other." Harry knows this is something new in their friendship, but he feels it necessary, after so many years of knowing each other. He can tell that Freddie is trying to find his way into adulthood, something that Harry had to experience at a much younger age due to his career.

"Thanks mate, I would really like that." Harry is about to ask Freddie about his family's well-being when a figure entering the room caught his eye, she was wearing the burgundy coat like that first Thursday he was lucky enough to lay eyes on her, high-waisted trousers. The newsboy cap was missing though, but he was glad because it gave her curly hair the freedom it lacked before.

Of all the places where he thought they might meet again, his friend's birthday party was certainly not on the list. She was here, greeting Jack and the others, pulling her sleeve to show how uncomfortable she was at making small talk with Alexis and Keira. She has to crane her neck up a bit when talking to, well pretty much anyone in the room.

This is the miracle he's been waiting for, he thinks just as the song changes to The Beach Boys' and a small smirk threatens to expand on Harry's lips, he does want to ask her if she wants to dance like the sixties tune suggested.

"Harry it's nice to see you again!" Fernando stands in the way blocking the view between the musician and the tube girl. He cringes a bit at the nickname and makes a mental note to learn her name, the sooner the better.

"Fer, I have missed you since we last saw each other earlier today," the architect laughs and so does Freddie. "Would you like a beer?" Forever polite Harry asks.

"No, I'm driving tonight but I'll fetch one for my sister," he says stepping around the bar where Harry and Freddie have been leaning against for the past hour, "I'm starving though, do you mind if I order something Fred?"

"I have some pizza in the fridge man, help yourself." Fernando thanks him before nodding to the person standing behind Harry.

"This beer alright?" Harry turns around just in time to meet a pair of chocolate eyes staring at the guy behind the bar and nod in acceptance. "You already know Freddie and this is Harry," the curly guy is speechless, now up close she seems prettier than before and real. "Harry this is my sister Alma." She smiles in a sweet way that makes the pop star wonder if he's about to go into cardiac arrest.

"I saw you in the tube, Hampstead station guy!" Her voice was nothing like he had imagined, it was raspy and a hint of an accent he couldn't quite put his finger on was swimming through her words.

"That's me..." he admitted, the pink blush from his cheekbones migrating to his ears. Alma thought he looked adorable.

"Do you wanna dance?" She asked after a big gulp of her beer. All star by Smash Mouth just started playing, that was definitely not what Harry wanted to dance with her. Not that he had a secret plan to woo her with his moves, he wasn't the best dancer.

But he took her hand and let her lead the way to the unofficial dance floor, that on a regular day was the dining room. Oblivious to all the eyes focusing on them, Harry allowed himself to enjoy the unexpected turn of events, he had already wasted precious time not talking to this marvellous woman. Like Freddie said, he had to learn from his mistakes, instead of repeating them.

///

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Next chapter

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 2x5 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

Look, I’m glad the girls were having fun, but I hate that this is yet another way for Anne to undermine her own looks. Why can’t she just accept and love herself for who she is? I feel like this cold open is important. 

Gosh, with the way Anne talks about Diana’s lips, I can totally see why people ship them. I for one don’t, at least not romantically, but the signs are definitely there, and in a more modern setting, they might have been written ending up together. 

You know, I love how confident Ruby is in her preferences. Yes, she thinks of nothing but beaus. Yes, that’s ok. Well, maybe not perfectly ok, but no one can make he change what she thinks about, and I’m really glad she knows it. I love that girl and that’s that. 

Come on, Diana, there’s no should and must when it comes to kissing! That’s what I’ve heard anyway. I’ve never been  kissed and with how touch-averse I am, I’d much like it to stay that way. But speaking of Diana and kissing, fast-forward to season 3, I believe Jerry was the one who forgot what he should or shouldn’t do when being kissed. And Diana... she had forgotten it long before the kiss happened. 

I said already I don’t ship DiAnne romantically, but I like how whenever they role-play, Anne always wants Diana to play the love interest, and Diana always steps right into character. 

“Why must the girl wait for the boy?” Well, once again, season 3. I like to think Diana remembered this moment then and just decided it was not quite necessary to wait. 

I love how Marilla isn’t bothered by the noise coming from Anne’s room where the girls are chatting, but instead smiles knowingly at it. She’s becoming a true mother, that one, as if she was a couple of years younger and Anne was her own child. Well, I guess she is now.

That was a long cold open. And a beautiful one, as they often are. A gold open, one might say. 

Bash seems just as excited about seeing Canada as Gilbert was to explore Trinidad. Their brotherhood is beautiful.

Boys being boys? No, Diana, allowing them to do that can only lead to... what Billy did to Josie in season 3. They should be told this is wrong, and I see Anne is going to do just that. “A skirt is not an invitation.” How iconic that line is.

Ooh, the grapes are sour, aren’t they, Josie? Mentioning her a minute ago, I couldn’t help noticing she wasn’t there when the girls were at Green Gables. 

And I see Billy and Josie’s fatal courting has begun. And Prissy and Phillips’ is just growing bigger. 

I see Josie is willing to “educate” her classmates in a proper “mature” game of spin the bottle. And of course, Billy has to be an even bigger... uh, no swearing on main... you know what I mean - about it than she is. If I didn’t think nobody deserves Billy, I’d have said they deserve each other. But even Josie doesn’t deserve that dirt-bag. “Where does that leave Cole?”, seriously? With the real men, of course. Where does that leave you?

I can’t help but root for Josie here, telling Cole she’s glad he’s there. She redeemed herself with that one. 

Sorry, Charlie, but who are you to speak for Diana? She can do that perfectly well on her own, thank you.

Diana and Moody? I see where their - if that can even be called courtship - in 3x1 came from. But I like him better with Ruby. 

Ok, that kiss was even more awkward than “Your dress is very... blue.” Poor dear Moody. He’ll get better.

Poor Anne... her trauma seems to never let her go. And what is Josie suggesting with “you’re of unfortunate circumstances, this can’t be your first kiss”. That was awful.

And speaking of everyone wanting to kiss Diana, as Anne was, there’s Jerry greeting her for the first time by name (because I count the “Hello, ladies” to her and Ruby in season 1 as a greeting to Diana). “I understand you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” Oh, Jerry!... Well, as I’ve said about the movie Titanic, how blissful it is to smile at the beginning as if you don’t know how it’s going to end... that definitely goes for these two. 

“You’e very bold.” Come season 3, we’ll see who the bold one really is. Also, I love that Jerry’s smile is back. 

“I’d rather be smart.” Yes, Diana, that’s the way to go. And judging by the end of season 3, you’re definitely both smart and beautiful. The two aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.

Anne talking about kissing to Matthew and Marilla, neither of whom ever married or had anything more than an utterly tragical romance is... well, awkward. I mean, well, it renders Matthew unable to sentence, if I may put this in a more modern way of speaking than my usual style.

“If you had red hair, you’d want to cover it too.” Well, is this the one where Anne dyes her hair? It has to be. It’s mid-season. 

Oh, I don’t know about dyeing, but this is the one where Cole braids Anne’s hair, and it’s moments like this that make me feel extra bad that she had to lose all of her beautiful hair to vanity. No doubt she came to appreciate it when it had to come off. 

I love how different and yet similar Anne and Cole are. I just love everything about their friendship. The world needs more of those. 

“feminine proclivities”? What on Earth? Also, I remember reading the Adventures of Tom Sawyer and learning for the first time how great of a humiliation it used to be for a boy to sit with the girls. I mean, I believe Cole would much rather sit with the girls in a world where that didn’t have any bad connotations - not because he’s effeminate or something, but just because they, for one, treat him nicely.

I mean, I get Marilla. One minute she is a new mother, the other her child is asking about kissing. Adopting a teenager is like that sometimes, but I bet she sees it for how rewarding it is in the end. 

“Rachel does have the effect of making you want to do the complete opposite of what she suggests.” Well, yes, but that still leads to good advice somehow, doesn’t it? i mean, it doesn’t make her any less annoying to me right now, but it is what it is. 

“I’d rather be ordinary.” Well, sometimes I think like that, too, but no, Cole, you don’t. Anyone could force themselves to be ordinary, but not everyone can be extraordinary. You’re given this unique chance. Don’t let it go because of some stupid dirt-bag teacher drowning in his own internalised homophobia. 

Gilbert “it’s not a love letter” Blythe and Anne “there’s nothing romantical about this letter” Shirley-Cuthbert. What a match made in heaven. 

“Maybe he wants to be pen-pals” Well, yes he does. Why else would he suggest it in season 3? 

Cole said about recitations that they make him feel too tall. Well, sometimes it’s nice to be tall, isn’t it? Not that I would know, in all of my 5′ glory. 

Gosh, I don’t know what’s worse about Prissy and Phillips’ kiss. That he can barely bring himself to do it, or that their entire teacher-student romance is sickening to me. And then he takes it out on Cole. Internalised homophobia is a drag. 

There’s the fox again... maybe its beauty can teach Anne how wonderful her red hair really is. See, she perceives that the fox is beautiful, but doesn’t see the connection. 

See? Marilla recalled things said earlier by both Cole (”Too tall, too weird”; ”without calling too much attention to yourself”) and Diana (”I’d rather be smart.”; “if you’re beautiful, you get stuck on one path”). Too bad it’s just further confirmation to Anne that she is, indeed, plain - which she is not.

That was beautiful in a sort of blunt, savage way. “I don’t like you.” I mean, sure she was nice to him once, but asking him like that if he doesn’t like girls... too personal. Too rude.

I don’t really know what to say here, but this kiss was beautiful. It was a way to show their friendship to each other and the world, and to stand up for each other while being called freaks. Beautiful.

So this is when Anne gets the hair dye. But why do I think that with raven-black hair, she’d look a lot like Wednesday Addams? 

And... Gilbert is back. What a nice surprise that will be thanks to letters arriving quite a bit later than they’re written.

Marilla is so caught up in rehearsing her speech on kissing  that she doesn’t even notice the remains of Anne’s hair-dyeing. Not until she sees her actual hair, now a horrible greyish green. Poor Anne. 

I love the parallel with Josie’s own hair troubles, though. And I love how this same scene evolves into something more in season 3. A statement on beauty and feminism. But now let’s just focus on 2x5 and not think so far ahead. 

I said focus, but I don’t even know what to say about Anne’s hair being cut. Hair cutting is traumatic for me, but never like this. Let’s be over with it now. 

Let’s sum up this episode: girl talk in Anne’s room; reflections on beauty and courtship; a skirt is not an invitation; different and weird is not bad; spin the bottle and all the awkwardness bound to surround it; Jerry is very bold with Diana; internalised homophobia is a drag; Anne and Cole’s friendship is pretty much the most beautiful thing in this episode focused on beauty; the Shirbert correspondence continues; Gilbert and Bash arrive in Avonlea; hair dye shenanigans and the painful consequences thereof.

[jubans]

title: like the sun [1/4] pairing: sumeragi tenma/fem!reader rating: g (general) premise: glooge search: what flowers can you give to the person you like when they work at a damn flower shop?!

The bells attached to the door of the shop chimed softly with Tenma's swift entrance. He spared a quick, "Good morning," to whoever might be listening, and he vaguely heard someone say it back but he couldn't give them so much as a single glance. It was rare for Tsumugi to frantically tell him to run to their usual store for pest repellent, so his urgency was a bit warranted.

The blooms that Tsumugi had grown out for the summer attracted a couple of sunflower beetles in the courtyard, and the two of them had discovered the critters nibbling on the leaves after breakfast earlier this morning. All that took to wipe the composure off the Winter Troupe leader's face was a few measly, little bugs, and Tenma would be lying if he said he didn't find it the least bit comical. 

But, as he surveyed the metal shelves for the brand that Tsumugi had told him to get, Tenma's gaze drifted briefly towards the bonsai section of the shop. A couple of juniper trees sat idly in their clay pots, waiting for a new owner to take them home. In the back of his head, however, he could hear a voice (that vaguely sounded like Yuki's) reminding him that he just had Igawa buy him a bald cypress tree last week. He literally had no reason to take care of another one when—

"Sir, do you need any help?"

Tenma startled at the voice that resounded from behind him, jerking his body away out of instinct. From where you stood, the cheery smile you'd put on faltered; a mix of concern and embarrassment lacing your gaze instead. You donned a pink apron with the shop's name embroidered on the front pocket—the same one he'd seen Himari, the elderly woman that owned the store, wear all the time. But from all the times he'd dropped by the only flower shop in Veludo Way, this was the first instance he'd ever seen you, in particular.

"Oh, S-Sumeragi-san?" you addressed him shyly, cheeks tainted with a rosy hue. "I didn't notice it was you."

The actor craned his neck a little, wondering how you even knew him. But the same, Yuki-esque voice in his head reminded him (a little bit harshly) that he was a celebrity. It was perfectly normal for people to recognize him especially when he'd forgotten to bring his sunglasses. Tenma knew that at least, but there was something familiar about you that he couldn't quite put his finger on. However, you already gave him an answer before he could even ask anything.

"W-We're in the same class at Ouka High," you babbled hastily, avoiding his gaze for reasons that eluded him. "I doubt you'd remember who I am though..."

He snapped his fingers when it finally clicked to him. Contrary to your assumption, he did remember you. "You're the one that always takes the reins in class activities! (Surname), right?"

It was strange, seeing the loud, slightly obnoxious girl he'd often see leading rehearsals for class productions in this quaint flower shop—barely able to hold his gaze without stuttering. But Tenma supposed that there were multiple sides to every person that they wouldn't want others to see. Muku often called him a tsundere in disguise, and while Tenma never openly admitted to it, his troupe mate's observations weren't completely baseless.

"Anyway, are you looking for something?" You cleared your throat, assuming your mask of cheeriness once more. "Himari-obasan told me she had a regular that was fond of bonsai despite being a teenager."

Now, it was his turn to look away, stuttering.

"T-That definitely couldn't be me," Tenma said dryly. "I'm...looking for a repellent of sorts. One for sunflower beetles? My friend wanted this brand specifically." 

He showed you the picture that Tsumugi had sent him on LIME and you hummed in understanding. Managing a kind smile, you gestured for him to follow you. 

Tenma had come to and from this shop ever since he first moved into the dorms, so the interior was calmingly familiar. Sometimes, even when he didn't have anything to purchase, he would still drop by after school to talk to Himari about alternative binding practices for bonsai roots. Those little conversations shared over tea improved his ability to grow proper trees so much that he'd managed to rope Tsumugi into his shop visits sometimes. 

"So, are you working regularly here?" Tenma wondered, more to break the ice than out of curiosity, really.

You glanced back at him as you ducked underneath the growing leaves of a dracaena house plant. "Nope. I'm just part-timing for the summer. Gotta earn some cash while school's out, you know?"

Once the two of you reached a massive wooden cabinet with glass doors, Tenma observed that various gardening tools and products were being kept inside. Huh. Himari must have invested in better displays for the shop. Speaking of which...

"Is Himari-san not feeling well?" he asked as you crouched down to retrieve what he was looking for from one of the lower shelves. 

"Ah, no. Her daughter was in town for a few days so she's spending some time with her." You plucked a single canister labelled with the pest repellent Tsumugi had wanted before sliding the door closed. Rising to your feet with a huff, you handed it to Tenma with the same, warm grin you'd shown him earlier. 

But the words of thanks already resting on his tongue promptly melted when his fingers brushed against yours. 

Tenma was more than accustomed to skinship, given that he'd been handed countless roles where he had to cozy up to his co-actors one way or another. But touching someone beyond the requirements of a script, someone who wasn't a paid actor as well—

"Sumeragi-san?" you called out, a crease forming on your brow. "You're a little red... Are you okay?"

He reflexively jerked his hand away from yours, making you flinch in surprise at his sudden actions. Tenma breathed heavily, directing himself towards the counter without another word. Though he felt a bit bad for acting so rashly, he would rather have Homare force feed him carrots than let you see him in such a flustered state. 

The actor glanced at the price tag stuck to the container and fished out a sum of money from his wallet that had three zeroes too many compared to its actual value. Tenma then plopped the payment on the wooden surface before turning on his heel to exit the shop, trying his best to block out your concerned calls. 

When the door to the shop slammed closed with the excessive force that had had put into shutting it behind him, your shoulders sagged with disappointment. Had... Had you done something to offend him, somehow?

Unbeknownst to the kind girl working at the flower shop, however, Tenma rounded the corner street with a noticeable spike in his heart rate. In the corner of his eye, he briefly caught a glimpse of his reflection on the tinted store window of a music shop Masumi told him about once. You weren't being very honest with him. He wasn't a little red—he looked like a freaking tomato!

Is the hack terrible at talking to girls, too? He could almost hear his subconscious (CV: Rurikawa Yuki) speak tauntingly in his head. Even if his first instinct was to shoot it down with a TTT (typical, tsundere Tenma) remark, he couldn't. 

Contrary to popular belief, Sumeragi Tenma was, indeed, terrible at talking to girls. 

And he would take this secret to the grave if he had to.