#last prologue part tomorrow woo!!!

[superfruitland]

based on real life events

|| masterpost || previous || next ||

[fizzyhosh]

Binding

Chapter Six

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five

Summary: Remus likes things predictable, orderly, and punctual. His comfort-zone is compromised when he meets (Y/N), a girl who is indifferent, spontaneous, and not outwardly friendly. Despite their obvious differences, he can’t seem to stay away from her, even when they aren’t working side-by-side at the most boring job on the planet.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: OMG WHAT A WILD RIDE! I’m so happy y’all have stuck with this story until the end! It’s been a slow af burn but the final part is finally here! I hope you all love it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it! Shout out to @swellwriting and @fortisfiliae for being my betas for this last part, go give them a follow!!

•••••

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•••••

bind·ingˈbīndiNG

noun

1. a strong covering holding the pages of a book together.

adjective

1. (of an agreement or promise) involving an obligation that cannot be broken.

•••••

As expected, Remus went straight to his room when he got home and locked himself in to avoid James and Sirius. Well, more specifically, he abruptly walked inside the apartment, taking in short, shallow breaths that James recognized as 'panic', ignored the guys as they asked a million questions, locked his bedroom door behind him, pushed his small dresser in front of the door like a barricade, and fell on his bed to cry.

He felt like a five-year-old but didn't care. He royally messed up. He switched back-and-forth between crying silently, his shoulders shaking from the massive sobs, and letting the exhaustion take over and falling asleep.

When he woke up after a few hours of this routine, a soft knock sounded on his door, followed by a concerned, "Rem?"

Remus ignored the voice, his back to the door, until he realized who it was. He rolled off the bed and dragged his feet to the wood separating him and Lily. Shaking his head at how dramatic he had been, he nudged his dresser out of the way and cracked open the door slightly, looking down at the girl.

"Hey," she said with sweetness laced in her voice. No wonder James was in love with her. Two words had been spoken and he already felt a little calmer. Her eyes flickered down to the dresser and she frowned. “Did... you barricade the door?”

"What are you doing here?" Remus mumbled.

"James told me you've been in your room since you got home a few hours ago. Can I come in?"

"I'm not particularly fond of the idea of guests right now."

"Let me rephrase that, then. I'm coming into your room so we can talk."

With a deep sigh, Remus stepped slightly to the right, allowing just enough space for her to walk into the room. Lily pushed past him, unbothered that he was dramatically pouting and sighing as a way to tell her he was annoyed by company. She knew. She didn't care. Lily sat on his bed, crossed her legs, and waited until he joined her—which took a few moments because he was dragging his feet still—before clearing her throat. "Spill it, Remus."

Remus shook his head. "It's nothing-"

"I don't appreciate it when you lie to me. I'm trying to help you because clearly you're spiraling and when you spiral, it's never good. I can't help you if you don't let me."

So he did. He told her about the girl at the bookstore and how he visited the library because of her and how that day, she found out and was repulsed by him.

After Remus finished, now having more tears on his face than before, Lily sighed and pulled him into a hug. "Even though she has a boyfriend, I felt like we were getting somewhere. Maybe not romantically, but I felt comfortable around her. She was starting to become one of my best friends."

"Have you talked to her?"

"No," he said as he pulled away from her. "And I'm not going to. I don't want to scare her more than I already have. She's probably already blocked my number."

"I highly doubt that. She was probably just caught off-guard because she didn't know you liked her, but I don't think she's going to call the police on you anytime soon."

Remus didn't say anything.

"You don't have to come to my party tomorrow. I'm sure you didn't want to anyway, but just saying, I won't be offended. I know you like to watch movies when you're like this."

"James is still trying to get me to go."

"In that case, you are officially uninvited to my party. Now he can't make you go because I won't let you in at the door."

Remus smiled lightly. "Thanks, Lily. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

The redhead smiled brightly and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Rem. Don't think too hard about Y/N or you'll overthink it again. Just talk to her at work on Monday." She stood up after squeezing his shoulder and left without another word.

___

Thanks to Lily's kind words and even kinder act of uninviting him to her party, Remus was able to stay in his room and wallow from dawn to dusk the following day.

He did, however, bravely decide to send a text to Y/N, just to see if he was still blocked. If she responded, maybe he could see how she was feeling about everything and panic accordingly.

To Y/N

Sorry about yesterday. Hope you can give me a chance to explain myself better.

*Message Delivered*

He sighed and set his phone down, close enough to feel the vibration if he got a text back, but far enough away that he wasn't obsessing over it.

He glanced at the book on his nightstand and frowned. It was the most recent recommendation and he actually was interested in it when Y/N described it to him. He leaned over and picked it up, resuming from where he read last, which wasn't far from the title page.

It was a book he heard a lot about, being a classic novel and all, but had never felt the need to read. It was pretty good. Being a period piece, it forced him to focus on what the words were trying to say instead of worrying about Y/N and what she was doing. She had mentioned that today was her anniversary, so he really didn't want to think about her and her boyfriend.

"Moony?" James tapped on the door and Remus grunted in response. The door cracked open and James' head popped in. "We're leaving soon. Get ready."

"'M not going," he mumbled, pulling on his bottom lip as his eyes scanned the words on the page.

"Yes you are. Put your book down."

"Are you my dad now? I'm not going. Lily uninvited me anyway."

"What? Why?"

"So you couldn't force me to go."

"Oh, come on, she told us about what happened. Sirius and I agree that a party will help you get your mind off Y/N."

"Honestly, James, my mind was off her until you said her name. Besides, parties don't do that for me."

"Because you don't get drunk enough. Here's the thing. If you come, you can get hammered and forget everything and I'll look after you to make sure you're safe. I won't touch a drop of alcohol."

"Yeah, until you ditch me to woo Lily."

"I can multitask," he said with a smile.

"I'd much rather wallow in my room until the manager of the library fires me for not showing up to work. Unless Y/N recommends she fire me sooner."

"No. I'm not going to let you just sit here feeling sorry for yourself. You liked a girl and she rejected you? Suck it up. You weren't and aren't a stalker. All you did was visit a public place often while you built up the courage to talk to someone. You've done nothing wrong and if she thinks you have, she has to deal with the fact that she turned down a brilliant bloke like you."

Remus stayed silent as James stared at him. After a few moments, he groaned and closed the door, leaving Remus alone. James was never very patient, and he didn't want to yell at his friend, so he figured it best to leave before he could.

It was nice being home alone. He was able to wander into the kitchen and get food for the first time since he got home, without the chance to getting interrogated by his well-intentioned but stubbornly nosy mates. He kept his book in his left hand, worried that if he took his eyes of the difficult-to-understand dialogue for even a second, he'd start thinking about all his problems again. He navigated the pantry with his right hand until he found a water bottle and a row of crackers.

After plopping on the couch with his new snack on his lap, Remus was able to settle back into a faster reading pace, his brain no longer fighting to multitask.

His eyes flicked over the edge of the book to read the name that popped up on his phone screen. He had an incoming call from James. When the notification went away, his phone told him he had already tried calling twice and Sirius had called once. It wasn't until Lily's contact picture popped up that he answered the phone, knowing it had to be serious if she wanted to call as well.

"What is it, Lily?"

"It's James. You gotta come."

"I already told you I'm not going to that bloody party—"

"Mate. You have to come."

Remus heard shuffling before Lily's voice replaced James'. "Remus. You are invited to my party. Now come. I mean it, you'll be sorry if you don't."

"How's that?"

"There's someone here you're going to want to talk to."

"Are you lot trying to set me up?"

"No, Remus. It's her. She's here."

"...What?"

"Get over here."

She hung up and Remus slowly lowered the phone from his ear. It suddenly felt like he wasn't in control of his body as he stood up and changed his clothes, making sure he looked presentable. He ran around the house looking for his shoes, his favorite jean jacket, and his wallet and keys. A million questions raced through his head as he drove to Lily's house.

Why hadn't she texted him back? That meant she didn't want to see him, right?

In that case, why was he driving to see her? Maybe she did want to see him? Why would she go to Remus' friends' party if she had no intention of ever seeing him again? Probably because she thought he wouldn't be there because he ranted about how much he hated parties.

Also, why wasn't she on a date with her boyfriend on their anniversary? Or maybe this is their date? That's a pretty lousy date.

Remus' hands shook as he pulled up to the house, parking on the curb and taking a moment to catch his breath.

In all of Remus' life, mostly in the last five years of being friends with James and Sirius, he had only been to four parties that had no real occasion. These were the kind of parties that would get out of hand quickly and therefore were the kind that Remus despised. Unfortunately, Lily's party had no attached occasion -- no birthday, Bar Mitzvah, wedding, baby shower or anything remotely party-worthy was happening.

It had been an hour since the party started which meant it was definitely going to be crowded inside. How would he ever find Y/N in that mess of people?

As he walked across the lawn to the front door, he made a plan. Or, attempted to. Maybe he should act like he'd been there the whole time so if he happened to bump into her, he wouldn't seem like he'd been stressing for the last 32 hours. Or he should say screw it and search every corner of the house for her?

As soon as he opened the front door, Lily and James were by his side and all logic and planning had left his brain.

"Where?" he asked simply, not waiting for pleasantries.  

Lily gestured to the back porch with her head and James pat his back. "You got this, mate. I think she might have been looking for you."

Lily smacked his arm. "Don't tell him that! You might get his hopes up, you absolute buffoon."

James cleared his throat. "Right, sorry."

"I'll see you guys later," Remus said as he brushed past them and pushed his way to the back door. What was he going to say? What if her boyfriend was there? Remus would have to just ditch right? Either that or get his face pounded in by some bloke he'd never met.

He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. As soon as he stepped outside, it was quieter, although there was still a fair amount of people outside. He instantly spotted her, sitting alone—bless the heavens—with her back to him.

He slowly walked up and stopped when he was a few feet away from the outdoor furniture she sat on. He cleared his throat and she turned slightly.

Whatever reaction he expected from her when she saw him—anger, horror, grief, sadness—was replaced with a look of nonchalance.

"Took you long enough to get here. What sort of friend is an hour and a half late to their best friends' party?"

Remus was taken aback but took advantage of the fact that she didn't seem pissed at him. "The sort that despised parties?"

"Then why are you here?"

He took a seat next to her, leaving enough space so she wouldn't feel uncomfortable. "I could ask you the same thing. I was told that you were here. And I wanted to see for myself, I suppose."

"Well whoever told you that was telling the truth."

"So, why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be celebrating your anniversary with your boyfriend? Who, by the way, still doesn't have a name."

Y/N paused before shaking her head. "And he'll never get one. Because we broke up."

"What?" Remus stuttered but tried covering up his shock. He looked at her, as she continued to look out at something in front of her.

"Yup. About five hours ago, I think. I remembered your friend Lily was having a party so I wandered around until I found it. I knew around where you lived and figured she couldn't be far."

"Why didn't you just... ask me?"

"Oh, my phone broke. Well, it got smashed by a less-than-thrilled ex-lover of mine. He doesn't take break-ups too well apparently."

Remus frowned. "That explains why you didn't answer my text. Unless you're mad at me and wouldn't have responded anyway...?"

"Why would I be mad at you, Remus?" Y/N sighed, similar to a disappointed mother.

His eyebrows knitted together as he played with his hands. "Well... you know... I was a creep?"

"No you weren't," she said sternly as she finally looked at him. He had forgotten how her gaze made him feel, as this was the first time she looked directly at him since he had walked outside. His insides became jelly and he didn't know where to put his hands. Why did one person have such a powerful stare?

"I wasn't?"

"No. All I've heard tonight is how terrible of a person you are and I'm sick of it."

Remus frowned again, more in confusion. He hadn't said terrible things about himself to her, so who had?

"From my ex-boyfriend, by the way," she mumbled, like she could read his mind.

"Oh. You... talked about me?"

"You're why we broke up." She looked back down at her hands and his eyebrows rose.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"No you're not. I know you hated him."

"I never met him."

"That doesn't matter, does it? You still hated him."

"You're right. I hated him a lot. And I don't hate people, like, ever. Just strongly dislike usually."

Y/N smiled at her hands and Remus cleared his throat.

"So, how did I cause a break-up?"

"Well... it was what you said. About how you wouldn't have gone to the bookstore so much if you had known I had a boyfriend."

"How so?"

She took a deep breath. "Your rant about how you pretty much came in as often as you could just to see me did weird me out at first, but then I thought about it. It really was sweet that you were so nervous to talk to me. So I broke up with that guy, he yelled at me about how you were being a stalker. I hated how he talked about you. You’re the cause because no one, not any of my ex-boyfriends, had ever done something as romantic as what you had done for me."

"Uh, that was romantic to you?"

She smiled and looked at him. "Hear me out, okay? The speech alone was romantic, but the actual acts were far more heart warming. I mean, come on, Remus. You didn't know a single thing about me but you wanted to get to know me. You said you couldn't even focus on your movies, which I know is a big deal."

Remus' cheeks flushed and he opened his mouth to speak, or more likely stutter, but she wasn't done.

"My last boyfriend never even held the door for me. I had to plan our own anniversary, for crying out loud. He only asked me out in the first place because he knew I hadn't dated anyone in a while. He knew I was completely available and alone. But you? You still wanted to be my friend after learning about my boyfriend. All the guys I've dated in the past haven't cared about getting to know me. They've just wanted to date me and if I was taken, they'd ditch. You knew when to ask me if I was okay and you didn’t pry into my life, though I could tell you wanted to, because you respected me. You gave me advice that no one else has dared to give me because you knew I needed it. You're a genuinely kind guy, and I don't care what people say, but that beats a bad boy any day."

Remus cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. "Who said I'm not a bad boy?"

Y/N scoffed and smacked his chest. "Shut up."  

He went back to his normal slouch and smiled at Y/N shyly. "I'm glad you didn't interpret my intentions wrong. Would've been nice to know how understanding you were before my 33 hour breakdown, but I'll take what I can get."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"It's alright. So we're cool?"

"We're cool," Y/N said with a bright smile.

"Friends?"

She scoffed. "Friends? After we both have given long speeches about how we fancy each other?"

"That was your idea of an 'I like you speech'?" he teased. He liked it perfectly.

Y/N laughed. "Okay how about this? Remus Lupin, I like you a whole lot. You're kind and incredibly cute and the moment I first met you, I thought you were the biggest dork I'd ever seen. Thank you for helping me realize how big of a dick my boyfriend was because I feel like you and I clicked instantly and I've been able to tell you anything. I like you a lot."

"You said that twice. Ow, sorry! No need to hit me! Y/N L/N, I like you a whole lot too. I'm glad you finally realized how stupid your boyfriend was and I promise that if you'll have me, I'll treat you better than you can imagine. You're insanely adorable and hot at the same time, it's a bit annoying, really, and I've been my happiest when I get to be around you."

Y/N smiled widely and her cheeks warmed intensely. Remus leaned down, placing his hands against her cheeks. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before leaning down and kissing her sweetly. He'd been waiting for this moment for a long time, and he was ecstatic to finally be kissing the girl he pinned after for so long. Their lips moved together in sync, trying to forget the rollercoaster of emotions they had each felt that day.

When they finally pulled away, neither of them could stop smiling. "Will you be my girlfriend, Y/N?"

She bit her lip. "Only if you promise to continue showing me good movies and reading my books."

"Of course. That's a binding agreement we have."

••••••••••••••••••••

ALL: @coolepowersthings @elfenbensord @flowercrownchic @portkeys-and-prose @rochelle-the-ravenclaw @siriuslyimmoony @bluemadcnna @the-apple-princess @vulpecula-minor @chlorineaddiction @puppycat714 @alyenaaa@marauderskeeper @oceanaged @knreidy1 @sirus-hufflepuff-padfoot @heartbeats-wildly @sarcasm-slytherin-sass101 @sly-vixen-up2nogood

REMUS: @harrypotterimmaginaa @finnofamerica@stateofloveandvedder @gryffindorprincess379 @onthebroadway@serenefreakgeek @wolverinesbeer @ceruleanrainblues@knowledgeisthebomb @havecourage-darling @sleep-i-ness @j-brielmalfoy@asktheanimagus @itshelaodinsdottirbitch @blubmachine@aheadfullofsherlock @quicksilver21 @unsureem02 @lallanas

Binding Tags: @wolverinesbeer@ceruleanrainblues @the-apple-princess @acutelittlehufflepuff @oceanaged@coolepowersthings @elfenbensord @blubmachine @fortisfiliae @wolfenbeck @stylespowus @mamapuritysan @golddustcoven @rochelle-the-ravenclaw@marauderskeeper @marauderwolfstarjily

[inyournightmares97]

My Youth (Chapter 1)

Broken and miserable, Park Jinyoung returns to his hometown to learn that no matter how hard he falls, there are still people who think he’s a hero.

Warnings: Angst, slow build, maybe some language. (Please don’t ask when I’ll update. Wait until the series is finished to read if you’re impatient.)

Word Count: 3k+

(Please check my Masterlist for the Prologue and read that first! (I can’t put in links because tumblr)

You sat at your desk and slowly flipped open the newspaper. GOT Tech set to acquire its major competitors, the paper read. High growth rates predicted for the rising tech giant! The lady at the newspaper stall had handed it to you earlier that morning with a big smile. Part of you wanted to tell her to stop caring so much about Jinyoung’s successes and that he probably didn’t even remember the ahjumma he used to buy comics from. But you’d never been very good at saying what you felt. You had simply smiled and taken the newspaper from her.

She would learn her lesson eventually.

“Miss? Miss, I’ve finished these sums,” a soft voice informed you from behind your newspaper.  

You lowered the newspaper and smiled at the young boy who stood in front of your desk, holding out his notebook to you. Kim Ki-woo was six years old and the smartest boy in your first grade class. It had barely been ten minutes since you’d sent the kids off to their desks to complete the sums, but he had finished them already. You smiled at him.

“Are you sure you’ve done all of them, Ki-woo?”

The boy nodded eagerly, his dark hair bouncing up and down in the mushroom cut that his mother insisted on making him wear. You folded up the newspaper and then gestured for Ki-woo to sit on the small chair next to your desk. “All right, let’s see how you’ve done then. What color pen shall I correct Ki-woo’s work with today? Blue? Purple?”

Ki-woo pointed shyly at the colored pens on your desk. “Green, Miss.”

“Green it is,” you agreed with a smile, before you began to look at the little addition sums that he’d done neatly in his book. Only one sum was wrong, simply because he’d forgotten to carry over a number. You pointed it out to him and his face fell. “You forgot to carry over the one here, Ki-woo.”

“Oh,” he mumbled. “So I don’t get a star?”

“How about I give you a small star?” you offered, reaching for the box on your desk where you kept your sticker packets. You pulled out a little packet of small silver stars while another girl came bounding over to your desk. She watched you put the little star in Ki-woo’s notebook and beamed.

“I bet I can get a big star, Ki-woo!” she teased.

You frowned at her as you handed Ki-woo his notebook back. “Let’s be nice, Jangmi. Ki-woo worked hard and did well.”

“Sorry, Miss.”

The bell rang loudly before you could say anything else and the students all rushed to their feet happily. You grinned as you watched them hurry to pack their bags and run out of the classroom. “All right, everyone! Those of you who couldn’t finish the sums today can work on them tomorrow! Everyone go home safely, now! Look both ways when you cross the street! Bye-bye!”

The children ignored you completely and ran out of the classroom in a rush. You sighed and waited for them all to leave before you began to pack up your own belongings. Sometimes you stayed late at school to plan your lessons and correct homework but today you were exhausted. There was a huge PTA fundraiser coming up next week and you were expected to help plan the event in addition to making posters for the whole thing. You had just tucked the newspaper into your bag when your phone rang.

Mrs. Park, the caller ID read. You smiled and answered the phone.

“Mrs. Park! I was just about to call you. How did you read my mind?” you asked the older woman pleasantly. Mrs. Park called you often these days, and you’d been planning to ask for her help with the fundraiser. Her delicious cookies always sold out in seconds and made the most money. You heard her laugh; a sudden, delighted little laugh that the woman rarely ever shared.

“Is that so, dear? Oh, I have something wonderful to tell you!” she chirped.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Did you finally find that lemon pie recipe you were looking for? Because I have an excellent use for it-”

“No, no, no, it’s much better than that! Isn’t school over for the day? Can you come by my house right now?” Mrs. Park asked you eagerly. You blinked in surprise and then glanced at the clock. She wanted you to come over? It was just a little past three. You had to make some calls and posters for the fundraiser but you supposed a brief chat with the older woman couldn’t hurt.

“All right, Mrs. Park. I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

“Lovely, dear. Do hurry!”

You smiled and hung up, wondering what had made the woman so excited. Perhaps Mr. Park had gotten his test results back from the hospital. The older man’s health hadn’t been doing too well lately, and the doctors were concerned that he might have developed some heart problems. You had gone with him to the hospital last week. Mrs. Park had been extremely worried. You smiled as you quickly exited the school building and hurried towards the Parks’ home. They were the closest thing you had to parents, you supposed. It was natural that they relied on you sometimes.

The light at the crossing was red so you waited for it patiently. You had crossed this road every day during your childhood. After your Father died in a car accident you had been terrified of traffic and crossing roads.

“Who even holds hands while they cross the road?” Jinyoung teased as he reached for your hand and grasped it tightly. Some of the other kids made fun of you both for holding hands. Jinyoung turned pink whenever someone commented on it, but still kept a firm grip on your hand. “We’re too old for things like that. I won’t do this forever. Come on, the light turned green. Let’s go.”

You blushed and followed him, grateful that no matter what anyone else said or even what he himself said, Jinyoung never let go of your hand.

Seven-year old Jinyoung had been much more mature than you’d given him credit for. He would often say one thing and do another, but he always knew where to draw the line with his teasing. You smiled to yourself as you watched the light turn green.

It was absurd how something as foolish as a pedestrian light still carried memories of Jinyoung in this town.

You crossed the road quickly and found yourself in the Parks’ driveway. The wonderful smell of freshly baked cookies wafted out from the kitchen window and you smiled. It must be a special occasion if Mrs. Park was baking cookies. You rang the doorbell briefly and waited.

“That was quick!” Mrs. Park beamed at you as she opened the door. Her face was flushed pink and she was glowing, almost like a bride on her wedding day. You wondered what could have made the older, wrinkled woman suddenly look ten years younger. “Come in dear, come in! I have the most wonderful surprise for you! You’ll never believe who just dropped in!”

You smiled and stepped inside, pausing to take off your shoes in the doorway. There was another pair of shoes there and you paused. Expensive and leather, most probably male. Old Mr. Park rarely used any footwear other than his worn-out sandals since his retirement. But these shoes looked like they belonged to a young man. A stylish, rich young man. Who could Mrs. Park have possibly-

No. It can’t be.

Your stomach turned over as the realization hit you like a truck. The delighted glow on Mrs. Park’s face. The shoes. The expensive leather bag that was lying in the entrance to the living room as though thrown there haphazardly.

Park Jinyoung had finally come home.

--

You had thought that you would have more time.

Perhaps if you’d received some warning that you were about to come face-to-face with your long-lost childhood best friend then you would have prepared yourself. You would have thought of a few things to say, maybe a few questions to ask him. At the very least, you would have gathered your thoughts and reminded yourself to be on your best behaviour for old Mrs. Park’s sake. Your tendency to replay different possible scenarios over and over in your head had always served you well, since it meant that you were rarely caught off-guard.

Except for now. Now, when you were met with the sight of Park Jinyoung sitting on the couch.

You hadn’t played this scenario out yet. You were completely unprepared.

“Jinyoung-ie! Look who I invited over! Do you remember how much you both cried when Jinyoung left for Seoul?” Mrs. Park cooed fondly. “Oh it was such a beautiful friendship! I’m sure you both must have missed each other so much!”

Her words sounded distant. You couldn’t think of anything, you simply froze in the doorway. The sight of Jinyoung was too much to drink in. He was wearing a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and revealing his toned forearms. Jinyoung’s dark hair brushed his forehead softly and his back was straight in a perfect posture; one that conveyed confidence and pride. His dark, familiar eyes met yours and you froze.

What should you say? Should you simply say hi? Should you reach out and hug the friend you hadn’t seen in years? Should you smile at him? Should you ask him where he had been all this time and clap him on the back, or should you simply shake his hand and let the awkwardness continue?

A million possibilities flickered through your mind. A million different ways that the impending encounter before you could go.

But in the end, Jinyoung made the decision for you.

“Mom,” Jinyoung said, his voice deeper than you remembered but still somehow soft. There was a sharp tone to it. The hint of acidity told you even before he spoke that he was about to break your heart. “Mom, I told you not to tell anyone that I was here. How could you go announcing it to the townspeople within seconds?” Jinyoung demanded.

Mrs. Park looked shocked. “Well… yes dear, I know you said that. But I thought… I mean, she’s your friend so I thought you would want me to tell her, at least! She’s been comforting me while you were gone for so long, Jinyoung-ie, we’ve both been worried about you…”

You swallowed hard.

Was that how it was? You were just one of the townspeople now? Whatever small hope you had clung onto that Park Jinyoung was still your friend had vanished. What had you been thinking? If he had cared even the slightest bit for you then he would have called, or sent at least an email or a text. But Park Jinyoung had done none of those things.

To Jinyoung, you were just a vague memory from his past.

One that he evidently didn’t care much for.

“I can leave if you’d like,” you managed to say calmly. If there was one thing you’d learnt in the decade that Jinyoung had been gone, it was to maintain your dignity. You never overstayed your welcome. You had spent enough of your life feeling unwanted.  

Mrs. Park gasped at your suggestion. “Of course not! Jinyoung’s only tired from the long journey! He had to take a train all the way here and you know how exhausting those things are. I’ll just bring out some tea and you’ll feel much more relaxed, Jinyoung. Why don’t you both sit down and catch up?”

Mrs. Park gently pushed you towards the couch and gave you an encouraging smile before disappearing into the kitchen. Your legs felt like jelly but you slowly walked over to sit down across from Jinyoung. His eyebrows were furrowed and he blinked in mild irritation. The expression made his handsome face detestable.

“I don’t want rumors spreading about me being here,” he told you bluntly. “So kindly keep it quiet. I only came home to see my mother.”

You felt dizzy. Even if you had had the chance to go over this scenario in your mind, you doubted that you could have predicted these words to be the first words Jinyoung said to you. You narrowed your eyes at him. The man who sat in front of you was not your childhood friend Jinyoung-ie. He was Park Jinyoung, a perfect stranger.

You intended to treat him as one.

“Rumours spreading about you making a visit to your hometown?” you asked coolly. You sat back against the couch while trying to hide your trembling hands. “Hardly sounds like the scandal of the year. What sort of paper would want to print that?”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Because I’m not a celebrity?” you wondered.  

Jinyoung didn’t respond. He simply turned his face away from you and looked towards the window as though he was bored. The silence was rude and uncomfortable. You couldn’t help but take the opportunity to let your eyes feast on the man before you. Jinyoung had only become more handsome in the last decade. His sharp jawline was covered in a light stubble and his plump lips were pressed together tightly. The magazines had done nothing for him; he looked like a model in real life as well.

But his hands were trembling.

You had to do a double take to make sure that you’d seen correctly. Jinyoung’s eyes were casually staring out of the window and his shoulders were relaxed. His entire posture screamed arrogance and distinterest. But his hands, placed casually in his lap, were trembling.

Trembling hands. Weakness. Fear.

But… but Park Jinyoung feared nothing.

Except failure, you reminded yourself. For as long as you’d known him, Jinyoung’s biggest fear had always been failure. His thirst for success and victory had always been accompanied by a crippling terror of being anything less than the best. Park Jinyoung had to come out on top. He avoided failure like a wild deer sprinting from a lion. Gracefully, yes. Successfully, almost always.

Yet it was a sprint that was unmistakably motivated by fear.

“I hope you like the lemon tea!” Mrs. Park gushed as she entered the living room with a tray and three steaming cups of her delicious lemon tea. The rich, tangy fragrance filled the room instantly. She set the tray on the table and you spotted a plate of freshly baked cookies on them as well. “Go on; help yourselves! I remember you both used to come here and beg me to make this lemon tea while you were studying in high school!”

You reached for a cup gratefully, but Jinyoung had frozen. His hands were still trembling but now he was staring at the tea and the cookies in silence. Mrs. Park placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

“Jinyoung, dear, are you okay?” she asked softly.

Jinyoung looked up and his dark eyes were suddenly misty. You stared at him in shock. Were those… tears? What was it? Was it the smell of his mother’s tea and cookies? Had they perhaps evoked some memories in him? Perhaps Jinyoung wasn’t as cold and uncaring as you first imagined.

“I, uh… I think I’ll take this tea to my room. I’d like to get some sleep,” he said hoarsely. You watched him closely as he grabbed one of the mugs of tea and took the entire tray of cookies. “Please don’t disturb me for a while.”  

Mrs. Park blinked. “All… all right, Jinyoung, dear. You do that.”

He disappeared up the stairs and you were left alone with Mrs. Park, who looked at you apologetically. “I’m so sorry. He must be more tired than I thought. Why don’t you stay and have the tea-”

“That’s all right. Mrs. Park,” you reassured her kindly. You felt a sudden urge to run from this place, to get out of this house. It had felt like home to you all these years but it wasn’t. It wasn’t really your home. This was Jinyoung’s home. Whether he wanted it or not, it would always be his home and not yours. You placed a comforting hand on the older woman’s. “I’ll be back soon, Mrs. Park. I have some work to do for the PTA meeting coming up this weekend.”

She smiled at you. “Thank you-”

“Not at all. I’m sure you want to take care of Jinyoung now that he’s finally home. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.” She gave you a wide smile and you could see the happiness and relief in her eyes. “Oh, I’m so glad that he’s finally home.”

You smiled at her and nodded. Of course she would be. A mother could wait decades for her son and still love him no matter what. But you had never been as kind-hearted as Mrs. Park. You couldn’t wait here forever and welcome Jinyoung back with open arms no matter how much he hurt you. You wouldn’t.

As you left the Parks’ house and walked towards your apartment, hot tears welled in your eyes. The pavement under your feet was blurry. Why were your hands trembling, why did you want to sit down and cry? Why was the brief appearance of a man from your childhood enough to make your entire body tremble?

Perhaps, deep down, just like Mrs. Park and old Mr. Kang and the lady from the newspaper stall, even you had carried a small hope that someday Jinyoung would come back.

You paused in the middle of the sidewalk, took a deep breath and then reached inside of you to find where that tiny little hope had been resting in your heart. That tiny little hope that your best friend still cared about you. That tiny little hope that Jinyoung would embrace you with open arms. That tiny little hope that there was a good, justified reason why Park Jinyoung had cut you off all these years. That tiny little hope that had made today’s encounter so painful.

You carefully drew that tiny little hope out and then you killed it.

And as you continued your walk, you felt that much lighter.

---

[fordarkisthesuede]

Batman the TellTale Series: The Tolls of Justice - Prologue

Welcome back to Part 2 of my Perseverance Project!

The one solid truth about the world is that it is always changing.

But things were going according to plan, for once. Tiffany was training to become Bruce’s protégé. Iman was settling in as Wayne Enterprises’ CSO. Alfred was traveling the world. John was slowly moving back into the world outside of Arkham. Bruce’s life was climbing in a steady, uphill line.

That is, until fate throws Batman a wrench. With every new death he finds, the case grows more chaotic, and the bigger it gets, the more dangerous his lifestyle becomes.

Soon Bruce’s life is more uneven than ever, and the only real constant seems to be John.

But can he even hold onto him, when their worlds are changing so much?

{Next chapter}

Continue on Ao3 or read below...

[Prologue]

Gotham Harbor always had a peculiar smell. There was the scent of the river, rotting wood, and seagulls with the odor of diesel and bunker fuel from the variety of ships in the docks.

And of course, there was the stench of dead fish that carried on the wind. It was that sickening sweet odor of death that Bruce always picked up on first, and it always made him think of his first case working with then-Lieutenant Jim Gordon. He’d never forget the sight of the dead salesman buried under a pile of yellow perch.

Bruce always hoped he’d never see another body around there. He was usually proved wrong.

“Any sign of them yet?” Tiffany’s voice asked over the communication link in the cowl.

“No, not yet,” Bruce answered, adjusting the focus on his cowl’s lenses. He sat perched near top of the nearby cell tower, watching the harbor line for the sign of the cargo ship drifting in amongst the fog. “Any movement down below?”

Tiffany snorted. “I think ‘Dice’ is going to lose his round to ‘Muddy’ at the table, but other than that the only thing going on down there is the weird tension between the two lookouts and ‘Four-Ears’. I swear he’s not actually reading that book…”

“Their delivery is late. They’re bound to be tense.”

“I dunno… What kind of name is Four-Ears for a leader of a gang, anyway? It sounds more like an insult than anything.”

“He’s not the leader, he’s a leader. Black Mask is the leader. He gives all his major subordinates nicknames to distinguish them from the rest of the group, unless there’s two of each name within the lower ranks.”

“…are you telling me ‘Muddy’ is that guy’s real name?”

“Yes.” Bruce answered, looking back out at the harbor. The fog was fairly dense, rolling over the water in slow streams, covering everything like a delicate blanket. The warm air of late May caressed the exposed skin of Bruce’s face, reminding him of the last time he’d been so close to the harbor on a case…

It had been over a year since the travesty the Riddler and the Pact brought to Gotham. Thirteen months and nine days.

Bruce heard the message tone in his ear like a small sonar beep. It wasn’t often he got a text message that late at night. He knew who it was from before he even glanced down at his gauntlet to read it.

Still on night duty?

Yes, Bruce typed back. It’d be better if you were here, he added honestly. Tiffany was still at the base, keeping lookout via camera drone, but it wasn’t the same as having a physical presence there.

The feeling’s mutual! I keep hoping I’ll wake up next to you…

Then I’d be able to make EVERYTHING better ;D

Bruce felt the corner of his mouth curve upward, despite the roll of eyes. I gave you that phone for emergencies. Sweet-talking me doesn’t count.

My heart burns for you like a match thrown on a box of oily rags!!!!

Doesn’t THAT count??

He was tempted to ask if John couldn’t even wait three days since he’d last seen him, but truthfully the time between their visits had gotten shorter and shorter as weeks passed. Bruce didn’t like keeping away for long, either.

A box of oily rags, though? That was a bit far, even for him. Almost concerning.

But he wouldn’t be John if he didn’t go a little overboard.

Bruce was halfway into typing ‘I don’t think I have enough burn gel for that’ when another text stopped him.

Come what sorrow can, it cannot countervail the exchange of joy that one short minute gives me in your sight, fair Bruce ♡ ♡ ♡

He stared down at his gauntlet. He was getting quoted Shakespeare.

No, that wasn’t quite right - he was being wooed with Shakespeare.

That was…definitely a first. It was bizarrely pleasant, leaving a warm feeling in its wake.

I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep, Romeo.

So soon?? :o

Stay safe for me, then, Brucie ♡

“Batman?”

Bruce blinked, closing the message system on his gauntlet so he could resume looking at the horizon. Sure enough, there was a shadow of a boat finally showing behind the fog.

“You got awfully quiet there for a moment. Who was the text from?”

“…how did you know I got a text?”

“I see the notifications for your gauntlet on this thing, remember?” Tiffany answered with a laugh. “Eight texts on duty, huh? Someone special you’re not telling me about?”

There was no way he was going to tell her he was texting John. “You said the heroin was coming in disguised as fan merchandise. What kind was it?”

“Don’t try to change the subject. This is the fifth time in two weeks you’ve gotten texts while I’m manning the cave. You have to tell me about them sometime.” Bruce winced, his good mood quickly disappearing. “Anyway, it’s all Sunset stuff. You know, that vampire thing from a couple years ago? I’m pretty sure they said it’s inside those weird plastic figures with the big heads. The heads are hollow, so they probably filled them with heroin and put them back in the collectible boxes.”

Bruce zoomed in on the ship in the distance. It didn’t seem to be in a hurry… It was a commercial fishing boat, not overly large, but it could certainly move faster than that. Bruce tried to watch the waves crash against the crest of the boat, but the water lapped at it as if there was no propelling force. “I think it’s stationary.”

“What, you think they’re going to take a lifeboat to the dock?”

“That’s possible.” If they did, it meant they would not be dropping off the heroin shipment right away. What would they come for? Payment first? That seemed like a poor decision…

Bruce scanned what he could see of the deck. Nothing out of the ordinary… But no sign of life. Even the dim light in the captain’s cabin showed only the silhouette of a man in the chair.

Warm wind hit his back, and Bruce heard the ends of his cape flap whip at his ankles.

Something was wrong. It was too lifeless. Too simple. There should be someone on deck when the boat was that close to the docks, keeping a look out for any signs they would be disturbed.

“I’m going out there,” Bruce said, gaging the distance between the tower and the boat. With the wind, he should get a good enough glide. Getting back would be harder – he might have to swim.

“Wait, what?”

“Something’s not right. The boat’s not running. I’m going to go check it out.”

“…normally, I’d ask if you were insane, but I already know the answer to that.” He could practically hear the light frown she was wearing; he narrowed his eyes at the light ableism. “You’d go even if I told you not to.”

Bruce frowned. “I wouldn’t go if you had a good reason for stopping me.”

Tiffany sighed over the communicator. “Do you want me to call Gordon?”

“Not yet. I’ll tell you the second I think we need backup.”

“So, what, two seconds after they start shooting you?”

Bruce ignored the comment and took a running leap off the tall warehouse, his cape outspread as the wind picked up, gliding him towards the small ship. He was almost weightless, flying freely through the foggy night.

It was simple and short, but the moment was always worth living in.

He landed on the edge of the boat, his boots hitting the metal of the front as he grabbed the railing with both hands and hoisted himself up as quietly as he could, his cape fanning out behind him.

Just as Bruce had thought, the motor wasn’t running. There were no footprints or signs of movement on deck. There wasn’t as much as a whispered conversation.

It was all quiet, and quiet on a boat like this meant something was seriously wrong.

He ran through scenarios in his mind. The motley crew of Black Mask’s lackeys back at the dock might have rigged it to explode. Or perhaps it could be an ambush job for him; they could be hiding, waiting for him to go below deck and then spray him with bullets.

It would be best to investigate the captain’s cabin – he could easily get there by hooking onto part of the roof-line and grappling up to the door. The lack of lights on deck would make it impossible for the captain to see him there now, so he should be safe…

The whir of the grappling line cut through the silent fog like a piano wire through butter. With still no noise out there, Bruce was getting that creeping feeling at the back of his neck.

The cabin creaked open in a rush as Bruce readied Batarangs in each hand, primed to throw at whoever was behind the door.

No one was there, aside from the captain, stiff in his seat, the dull yellow light of the control panel barely illuminating him.

It wasn’t the eerie stillness of the person in the chair that clued Bruce into what really happened, but it was the unpleasant smell of urine that lingered as Bruce stepped closer to examine the man.

A dark red line ran across the man’s pale neck. The crew-neck shirt was soaked with blood. Slight bruising on his forehead, suggesting he’d been held still. The man’s eyes were still blown wide in surprise. It was almost comical, with the small o-shape his mouth was set in.

His death been fairly recent. About an hour. A quick scan with his glove turned up no trace evidence.

“Oracle – the captain’s dead. His throat’s been cut.”

“Uh, there’s no chance it was mutiny, was it?”

“Doubt it. Call Gordon; I’m going to look below deck.”

“Got it.”

Bruce swept away, not seeing anything else of note in the cabin.

The lower deck was also suspiciously silent. Bruce made sure to walk slowly, wary of any trip wires or traps, and keeping his eyes and ears open for any hint of sound. It could still be an ambush.

The cargo hold had piles of cardboard boxes, all with the Sunset logo printed on top next to the word FIGS in a spiky word balloon. Bruce understood the collector’s value of such things – he still had pieces of Gray Ghost memorabilia stored in their original boxes in his media room’s display case. There must have been a few thousand dollars’ worth of figures alone, but with the price of heroin, it might have been a several hundred grand more.

A small fortune worth killing over. But the boxes seem untouched. Why?

Even simple revenge between a rival gang wouldn’t have justified leaving several grand worth of drugs behind. There were some gangs that didn’t like dealing with illegal substances - either for fear of getting their hands too dirty, or the fact that such things were so often stolen or seized that it wasn’t worth the investment. Surely a group like that would have shot up the place… And it wasn’t like those groups to go head-to-head with the likes of Black Mask. At least not alone.

Bruce heard the light patter of tiny feet on wood. Rats. The sound was coming from his left. Past the tower of boxes.

And tucked away behind a stack, another corpse, accompanied by a pair of rats trying to nibble away at his hands and face. They scampered away behind the boxes at the sight of Batman’s shadow.

This second man hadn’t died so cleanly. There were several puncture wounds, as if he’d been stabbed by someone playing five finger fillet on his torso. There was no instrument left behind, no broken blades or anything helpful. The size of the wounds and lack of torn flesh suggested something small and straight-edged, like a traditional switchblade or dagger.

Bruce ran his glove’s scanner over them, hoping to find any trace elements. Paint chips, hairs, fibers – anything.

“Another body, huh?” It wasn’t really a question. Just subtle disgust from Tiffany. “Randolf Barron, age 44, did time for smuggling, possession, and assault. Pretty sure the cotton-poly blend fibers sticking in the wounds are from his shirt.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nada. Where’d you find him?”

“Cargo hold. He’s been here about an hour.”

“God… I hope you find someone alive tonight.”

Bruce doubted it. “So do I,” he muttered, hoping he was wrong in thinking it would be a very long night.

He treaded carefully, hearing only a few squeaks and scampers of rodents. The kitchenette had two people, sitting in plastic chairs with very bloody eye sockets on the sides exposed to the door. If the blade was long enough, death would have been instantaneous

Bruce unclipped the miniature-drone from his belt and let it fly into the air to take an aerial shot. He didn’t want to risk contaminating the scene too much, and if there was someone hiding behind the counter…

There wasn’t. He frowned, zooming in on the wounds to the eyes – the blades were long, shoved or thrown in at an angle so they hit the brain. Near-instant death.

“Jack Whendleham and Kirby Noltz,” Tiffany repeated with a slight strain in her voice. “Both 39, Gothamites, tried for breaking-and-entering, assault, assault with a deadly weapon, cocaine possession… Ugh. What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know, but there’s probably more. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine… Just… I have this thing about eyes getting poked.”

No knives were left behind...but there were partial bloody shoe-prints moving from the doorway to the table. He’d need a closer look, but at least it was something. He might be able to piece together a full size, analyze the wear on the treads…

The killer could still be on board.

Bruce swept away, letting the drone fly in front of him as he kept a vigilant watch. There was no other sound aside from his muffled steps and the low hum of the drone.

There was a storage room, packed with more boxes…

And four more bodies, laid out in the middle of the floor with their heads all pushed together.

“Oracle, send your drone out here to check-”

There was a slight noise coming in over the ear-piece, like a firework had gone off in the distance.

“I can’t, Black Mask’s gang is on the move!”

“What?”

“Their van exploded, they’re leaving the warehouse! I can follow them but-FUCK!” Tiffany shouted, and Bruce heard the tell-tale sound of her fist hitting the desktop. “My feed cut out! It’s...UGH! Fuck them! They took it out! I’m not getting a power signal!”

“Oracle, send Unit Three out to try and track them. I need to finish searching the ship; the killer could still be on board.”

“I can’t, Three’s too far away, it’ll be too late,” Tiffany explained frantically, “What do we do?”

Bruce cast a look at the bodies. “The shipment will be in custody shortly. We’ll get other chances at the Black Masks; this takes priority.” He took a breath, trying to clear his head. “Alert the G.C.P.D. about the warehouse. Get Three out here and try to scan the area.”

“...I need bring it in for repair; the bio-scanner is malfunctioning.” There was a split-second pause. “I could throw on my gear and be -”

“No. Surveillance photos will do. We’ll look over the C.S.I. findings later,” Bruce emphasized, his voice-modifier grumbling over the line.

He let the drone fly up and get an aerial shot of the four dead men, hearing the whir of the machine and the light ‘click’ of the camera, and sighed to himself as he looked at the image on his gauntlet.

“It’s going to be a long night.”

Edits:  added Ao3 link; re-formatted John’s texts to blockquotes (tumblr undid that formatting before I guess)

Notes:  Welcome back, my friends, to the middle of a new series I call “The Perseverance Project” - as At the Brink of Midnight was my Season 3, consider The Tolls of Justice my Season 4; and an unnamed Season 5 will be released sometime after 4 wraps up. I have such sights to show you… A new “game mechanic” that will be introduced next time, old characters returning that I won’t spoil yet, new relationships to grow, fresh villains to introduce - we’re going to have so. much. fun! (ʃƪ¬‿¬)

If you’re ever in doubt of my new bi-monthly update progress, please visit my profile page on Ao3, or check my “bttts s4” or “ttoj” tag here on tumblr. Please keep in mind that I have much less time to write now that I’m fully employed - but the drive I have to finish what TellTale could not is currently shifted into the steady high speed of fifth gear. But I can’t stay at that leisurely cruise forever, so it’s bound to shift now and then to slower gears, and I know there will be days where it’s stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. So I hope you’ll bear with me, and give me some encouragement on the way. 

And since the next chapter is already written, and I love you guys so much that I don’t want to keep you in suspense for too long, it will come out early - so I’ll see you same time next week! (๑˘̤ ॢᵌ ू˘̤)*౨˚ൗ

*PS - Please reblog/like, or give kudos/comment/subscribe on Ao3! Your feedback feeds me!!

[lilyvandersteen]

Puppy Eyes Chapter 18

Nope, no smut yet, sorry, only more schmoop and fluff...

Thank you so much to everyone who sends me feedback - you’re wonderful and you spur me on to keep writing :-)

This story is also on AO3 and on Fanfiction.net.

The other parts can be found here: Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17

Chapter 18: A Lot of Firsts

When Kurt had to leave for a dog walking assignment later that evening, Blaine felt a prickle of dread. Blaine had declared himself now, and handed Kurt his heart for safe-keeping. Did Kurt believe him? Did he want to be with Blaine? Kurt wasn’t going to slip out of his life again, was he?

Blaine didn’t want to seem clingy, but he also didn’t want to let Kurt walk away without any reassurances on this matter, so he offered to come with Kurt and help him walk the dogs.

It wasn’t until Kurt pointed it out that Blaine realised he was still naked from the transformation. It cracked the both of them up, and that bout of merriment instantly made Blaine feel better. He dressed quickly, and held Kurt’s hand all the way to the dogs’ homes and then to the park. It felt amazing. He sneaked a few glances at their joined hands, grinning happily, and that grin only widened when he caught Kurt doing the same.

“I love you,” he said, the words tumbling out of their own accord for the millionth time that day, yet Kurt’s eyes lit up as beautifully as if it were the very first.

When Blaine gave Kurt the unicorn brooch and the accompanying letter, he got the reassurance he’d been craving. The letter made Kurt tear up and reel Blaine in close, murmuring that Blaine was the one for him too.

Blaine didn’t check if anyone was around before taking Kurt’s face in his hands and kissing him like his life depended on it.

Kurt drew away a few times to gulp in fresh air, and each time Blaine chased his lips as if Kurt provided the only oxygen he needed.

Blaine didn’t know how much time had passed when they finally remembered the dogs and took them back home, but he did know it wasn’t long enough by far.

Kurt was dog-sitting, so Blaine knew he couldn’t come back to Blaine’s apartment. But maybe Blaine could come with him? He needed to be close to Kurt. Preferably till death did them part, but he’d settle for right here right now.

Kurt seemed hesitant about letting him stay over, so Blaine gave him his most beseeching look. The one that even Pam had never been able to say no to.

“You don’t play fair,” Kurt grumbled as they walked towards the apartment where Kurt was staying.

Blaine, happy as a lark now, beamed at him. “All’s fair in love and war, beautiful.”

Kurt shot him a quick look, and a corner of his mouth ticked up. “Is that going to be my pet name from now on? What happened to ‘honey’ and ‘sweetie’?”

Blaine shrugged. “Those are generic, and I use them for everyone. You deserve a special name just for you. And ‘beautiful’ suits you.”

That made Kurt blush, and Blaine just had to kiss him again because he was so adorable.

It wasn’t until they were lying in bed that Blaine initiated phase two of his wooing plan, and asked Kurt out on a date. He fist-pumped when Kurt said yes, and nodded off contentedly.

Then Kurt’s voice jolted him awake again. “Just so you know, we have an appointment at The Sweetest Thing Bakery tomorrow at four p.m. Make sure you include that in your date plans.”

“You rescheduled? Mrs Peters wasn’t angry that we missed our appointment?”

Kurt chuckled. “I pretended that you’d written the date down wrong.”

“Clever!” Blaine praised him. “I’m glad. She has the best reviews. And the best designs.”

“And hopefully scrumptious caaaaaake,” Kurt yawned.

“Sleep, beautiful.”

“Sweet dreams,” Kurt slurred, and then laughed, “because of the cake, geddit?”

He turned on his side, his head on Blaine’s chest, and was out like a light.

Blaine kissed the crown of his head. For a few minutes, he basked in the feeling of having Kurt with him again. Then, he started going over his date options. Their first date had to be perfect.

K&B

Of course, mandating that the date had to be perfect jinxed it. From the moment Blaine woke, he knew he’d have to adjust his plans. He’d counted on cold but dry weather, not the rain and cold wind that assaulted him as soon as he opened the window in the kitchen. That meant the walk through Central Park was out. Bummer.

Blaine busied himself making Kurt a delicious breakfast, making sure it would be ready by the time Kurt’s alarm clock went off, but Kurt didn’t even spare the breakfast tray a passing glance when he rushed past Blaine mumbling, “Dogs to walk. Back in half an hour!”

Blaine looked down at the tray he was holding and sighed. By the time Kurt got back, the eggs would be a congealed mess, the toast would be unappetizing, the fruit salad would no longer look fresh but brown at the edges, and the mocha would be ice-cold.

Oh, all right then.

Blaine sat down at the kitchen table and ate the breakfast intended for Kurt, grimacing when he drank the mocha, which was much too sweet for his taste. After that, he showered and dressed, and then made a new breakfast tray, timing it so that it was ready just when Kurt was due back.

Kurt and the poodles returned in the best of spirits, despite the weather, and now Kurt did notice the tray. “You made me breakfast? Oh, you’re the BEST! I’m starving! I forgot to make myself sandwiches yesterday.”

Kurt kissed Blaine square on the mouth before sitting down and wolfing the whole meal down in five minutes flat.

Then, he looked up at Blaine expectantly. “So what are your plans for today?”

“Still raining?” Blaine asked, and Kurt nodded.

“I guess a romantic walk in the park is out, then,” Blaine mused, and Kurt laughed as if Blaine had made an excellent joke.

Blaine praised himself lucky that he’d asked Ashton if there were any good exhibitions in the NYC museums. At least he had that to fall back on.

He looked up, meaning to tell Kurt they were going to the Met, but Kurt had disappeared. His bowl and plate stood in the sink, already rinsed, and his voice floated out of the utility room, singing a French song.

Blaine distractedly petted one of the poodles while letting Kurt’s singing wash over him, and then started on the dishes.

An hour later, Kurt and Blaine were on their way to the museum. Blaine had first stopped by his own apartment for Kurt’s present of the day. He’d had an umbrella made with the same puppy pattern as the book bag, and Kurt could really use that in this weather.

Kurt exclaimed over the umbrella, calling it über-cute. Outside, he opened it and offered Blaine his arm.

Blaine had never shared an umbrella with anyone before, and found it cosy and intimate. The wind still howled, and the rain still beat down on them, but the umbrella was sturdy enough to provide shelter, and the heat from Kurt’s body was a welcome solace against the biting cold.

When they reached the Met, the queue at the entrance made Blaine’s heart sink. He knew that Monet always drew a crowd, but this was simply ridiculous. They’d be queuing for hours, and in this inclement weather, standing still for so long wasn’t an appealing prospect.

He ran through Ashton’s other suggestions, and flagged down a cab to take them to the Museum of Natural History instead. The exhibit there was about newly discovered deep sea creatures, and when a class of third-graders came by with a guide, Kurt’s eyes shone and he followed them, soaking up every bit of information the guide doled out.

Kurt was keen to discover the rest of the museum too, and in the end, he only let himself be led out of the museum when his stomach started growling.

“We can always come back another day,” Blaine promised him.

Blaine looked at the overcast sky and chose a nearby sushi restaurant for lunch. It still wasn’t close enough for them to escape a sudden rain squall that drenched them in seconds, and they ran the last few yards, Kurt squealing and trying to protect his hair when the wind blew his hood off.

They stumbled into Gari of Columbus with dripping coats and squeaking shoes, laughing and shivering a little. In the restaurant, it was toasty warm, though, and Kurt slipped into the restroom to try and fix his hair.

“Ugh,” Kurt said when he came back. “I can’t get it into a decent coif. You’ll have to make do with the hairstyle I had when I was a sophomore in high school. Floppy bangs and all.”

Blaine smiled at him and cupped his cheek to give him a kiss. “You do look younger this way. But just as beautiful.”

After lunch, Kurt had to head back to the place he was staying to pick up the poodles for their midday walk, and then a few other dogs as well. Blaine grinned when Snowball and Summer greeted him enthusiastically. It was still raining, but Blaine hardly felt it as he ran with the dogs. Kurt flashed him a happy grin and upped his pace a notch.

After their run, Kurt was shivering again. Blaine hunted for a blanket in the apartment and wrapped Kurt in it, installing him on the sofa and hurrying to the kitchen to make them both tea. When he came back into the living room, Kurt was watching Casablanca, and stretched his arms out towards Blaine. Blaine offered him a cup of tea, and chuckled when that made Kurt pout. “So impatient, beautiful.”

Blaine kissed Kurt’s pout away and sat down next to him, encircling Kurt’s waist and sipping his own tea.

“So where is The Sweetest Thing bakery?” Kurt asked. “We have to make sure we’re on time today.”

Blaine beamed at him. “It’s not far, beautiful. Four blocks or so. So you can drink your tea and watch Humphrey and cuddle me and get warm again. Plenty of time for that.”

Kurt’s answering smile was wide and toothy, and he wiggled a bit closer still. “That sounds perfect.”

They arrived at The Sweetest Thing bakery twenty minutes early, and Kurt used the extra time to inspect the shop window. “I see what you meant about the best designs. These cakes are gorgeous. If they’re yummy, too, I’m sold.”

A gust of wind made them both head inside the shop, and they told the sales assistant that they had an appointment with Mrs Peters.

“Anderson-Hummel?” she asked.

“That’s us,” Blaine confirmed, and he felt Kurt squeeze his hand.

“What is it, beautiful?” he whispered, and Kurt blushed and whispered back, “I like that there’s an ‘us’ now.”

The girl behind the counter cooed. “Aww, you’re too adorable. Have you been together long?”

“Nearly a year and a half,” Kurt lied glibly.

“And you’re already engaged? Wow, I’ve been seeing my man for five years and not a peep about marriage!”

Blaine gave her his most disarming smile. “When you know, you just know.”

A voice behind him made a retching noise, and then hissed, “You disgusting fags, why don’t you get out of here before I break your neck!”

Blaine whipped his head around and saw a burly middle-aged guy, red-faced and looking furious.

Before he could say or do anything, Kurt retorted, “Why don’t you back to the Middle Ages, where you belong? Last I checked, gay marriage was legal. We have as much right to buy our wedding cake here as you do.”

The guy came closer, his hands reaching for Kurt’s neck. Blaine quickly got in front of Kurt and took on a fighting stance.

“Cut this out RIGHT NOW,” a woman commanded.

Blaine recognised Mrs Peters’ voice, but didn’t take his eyes off the angry guy.

“Mr Miller, if you have a problem with my clientele, I suggest you go elsewhere. I’m not having this kind of scene in my shop.”

Mr Miller looked at Mrs Peters, affronted. He’d clearly expected her to side with him. “Oh, fine. Your cakes suck anyway.”

He strode out of the shop and banged the door with all his might.

“Good riddance,” said Mrs Peters. “Now if you two would follow me, please. Anderson-Hummel, right?”

“That’s us, ma’am,” Blaine said. He grabbed Kurt’s hand, and together, they followed Mrs Peters.

Soon after, Kurt was deep in discussion with Mrs Peters about the design he wanted on the wedding cake. He drew several versions on a napkin, and promised to send the baker a digital version of the design by the next day at the latest.

Then, it was time to taste-test the different cake flavours. Kurt took small nibbles and closed his eyes every time a new taste hit him, his brow furrowed in concentration. It made Blaine smile.

Kurt pronounced the chocolate delicious but too heavy, shook his head after tasting the red velvet and vanilla options, made a so-so gesture about the carrot cake, wrinkled his nose at the pink champagne cake, but lit up when he tasted the coconut and lime combo.

“This is it,” he whispered, “This is the perfect cake.”

Blaine nodded. “Okay.”

Kurt took another small bite and moaned. “No, seriously, it doesn’t get any better than this. So good.”

Mrs Peters laughed. “That’s settled, then. So I’ll write down coconut and lime for the cake, and your own design for the decoration. Do you have my e-mail address to send the file?”

Blaine assured her they had the address.

“And what’s the wedding date?” she wanted to know next.

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other.

“We haven’t decided on the venue yet,” said Blaine. “It depends which one we’ll go with. If we pick the Bowery Ballroom, it will be the 7th of June. If it’s at the NY Public Library, it will be on the 14th of July. And the date for the Loeb boathouse is 9 September.”

Kurt cocked his head to the side. “I thought we’d decided against the Loeb boathouse? It’s going to be either Bowery or the Library, Mrs Peters. We’ll let you know as soon as possible. We’re visiting both places again next week, and then we’ll decide.”

Mrs Peters made Blaine repeat both dates and jotted them down with a question mark behind them.

As they filed out of the back room, Mrs Peters put a hand on Blaine’s arm.

“Hey…” she said. “Don’t mind that guy, please. Don’t you worry your pretty head about him. Your fiancé is right. Love is love, and it doesn’t matter to me that you’re two men. It shouldn’t matter to anyone. It’s nobody’s business but your own.”

Blaine swallowed and tried to smile, but it probably came out more like a grimace. “I’ll go pay the deposit at the counter, then.”

Nothing like striking while the iron was hot, so Blaine called both wedding venues to ask if he could come by again, this time with his fiancé. For the Bowery Ballroom, he made an appointment for Monday evening. There was no appointment needed for the New York Public Library. “We’re open until 5.45 today, sir.”

That gave them a little over an hour to go discover the place, so they took a cab there. As soon as Kurt entered the building, he seemed to be vibrating with excitement, and that enthusiasm increased with every detail he pointed out to Blaine, in reverent whispers. They stayed until the library closed, and as they went down the steps, Kurt told Blaine, “This is the right place for us. I can feel it in my bones. We can go check out the Bowery, too, but I don’t think I’ll change my mind. I see us getting married here.”

They picked up Thai take-away on their way back to the place where Kurt was staying. After eating, they took out the dogs for their evening walk, and then curled up on the sofa again until it was time for bed.

When Kurt laid his head on Blaine’s chest, Blaine blurted out, “I’m sorry our first date was such a mess. I wanted it to be perfect, but it all went wrong.”

Kurt raised his head. “Blaine, what are you talking about? There’s nothing about today that I would have changed. To me, it was perfect. A wonderful first date. I couldn’t dream up a better one if I tried.”

“B-but the weather…”

“I loved that it rained. That meant I got to share an umbrella with you. That was so romantic. I’d never done that before.”

“Me neither,” Blaine confessed.

Kurt beamed. “I like sharing firsts with you. I want us to share a lot of firsts. I couldn’t give you my first kiss ‘cause that one got stolen, but the rest of my firsts are all yours.”

Blaine smiled tremulously and pecked Kurt lightly on the lips, but then went back to his grievances about the day. “And I meant for us to go to the Met, but the queue was too long.”

“Aww, Blaine. The Natural History Museum was a much better choice. I loved it there!”

“And your hair got wet!”

“Yep. Yours too, and you looked so sexy with wet curls. I wanted to grab you right there and then and make out with you.”

“And then at the bakery, that guy nearly throttled you!”

“And you defended me, you brave knight in shining Armani.”

Kurt batted his eyelashes at Blaine and pouted his lips.

Blaine laughed and kissed Kurt.

When Kurt came up for air, he breathed, “Perfect. I’m telling you, perfect.”

[iwillwakeherinthemorning]

All the hidden love beneath

Pairing: Leonard McCoy/Reader

Description: Unrequited love, grumpy Len, angst Part 2

A/N: 1. I posted a few days ago that I really liked the song “All the Pretty Girls” by Kaleo. This is my response to it. I don’t know I just felt a really strong connection between the song and Len. 2. I like the idea that no one but Jim calls our grumpy doctor, Bones so he will be called Len, Leonard, or Dr. McCoy for this unless Jim is in the scene. 3. This is only part one so I’ll probably have part two up this weekend. Thank you! :) Also! Please be kind… this is the first time I’ve tried to write anything that isn’t poetry.

Prologue:

All the pretty girls like Samuel Oh he really doesn’t share Though it’s more than he can handle Life is anything but fair, life is anything but fair

The first time Leonard McCoy sees you, you’re both sixteen. The first thing that runs through his mind is “Jesus Christ! This girl is gorgeous” It only takes him seconds to commit your beauty to memory. Permanently engrained like a tattoo on his subconscious. 

The feeling of euphoria only lasts for a second or two as he moves his line of sight by one degree and feels deflated. Angry even. Because fuck you’re standing next to his best friend and the schools resident play boy, Samuel. The next thought that passes through his mind is that you’re new. You have to be. Because as much as he loves Sammy, and he really does, Len knows that he’s wooed literally every girl in the county.  “She can’t possibly know.” he says to himself. He knows already by the way you carry yourself that you wouldn’t fall for his best friends tricks were you any the wiser. His suspicions are confirmed moments later when Sammy claps him on the back. 

“Len? Dude! Earth to Leonard!” Sammy shouts knocking Leonard out of his reverie.

“What?” Leonard asks. Still slightly dazed. Looking up at his friend he suddenly realizes that their are people talking to him. “Oh hey, man! Sorry, guess ‘m still sleepin’.” Leonard drawls and you giggle causing him to snap his gaze over to you.

“Len, this here is Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, this is Leonard McCoy.” Sammy introduces and Leonard is already holding out his hand to shake yours. “Len, this is Y/N’s first day. I’ve just been showing her around.”  Samuel winks conspiratorially over at Leonard. 

Just as soon as they turn older He’ll come and sweep them off their feet It’s only making me feel smaller All the hidden love beneath

After that first day you’re caught up in Samuels game and Leonards once happy demeanor around you, turns to bitter anger. And you can’t figure out why. “He seemed so sweet this morning.” You’d thought to yourself as you process the terse encounters with the hazel eyed boy.

 He isn’t angry with you though. He’s angry with Sammy. His best friend of his full sixteen years, and Leonard can’t help the seething glare that he pins Sammy with from behind for the next two years of your lives. 

After that first encounter Leonard had already fallen in love. The way his name fell off your tongue sent shivers down his spine. Leaving him wondering for the first time in his life, what it would feel like to run his fingers through your hair through fits of passion. “But its too late.” Leonard thinks to himself. “Life is anything but fair.” 

And thats the way the next two years of Leonards life roll. Watching from a distance wistfully wondering what he had done to have fate play with his heart like this. Until graduation, Leonard is mopey and short with you. You can only coax a smile out of him when the charming boy you call your boyfriend isn’t around. 

He’s finally able to escape this hell with the promises of the big city and a scholarship to the prestigious Emory University. His plan is to forget about you. To throw himself in to his studies. To become the “best damn doctor” he can. Because damnit he’s going to be happy. To move on and maybe even fall in love with someone that will love him back. And he does. He finally finds happiness. For a little while at least. 

All alone, alone again No one lends a helping hand I have waited, I have waited Takes it’s toll, one’s foolish pride How long before I see the light I have waited, I have waited for you to lay me down

17 years later… 

35 years old and Len is broken again. His wife has left him. The she-devil otherwise known as Jocelyn “took the whole damn planet in the divorce.” And what’s worse is that she’s taken his little girl with her. “Bitch.” He thinks as he’s awaiting sure death from space. 

This is his last stitch effort. His last chance to escape his miserable life. The Star Fleet medical path is his sure fire way to distract himself and if this doesn’t work well then hell, Leonard really doesn’t know what to do. 

Sail on by, sail on by for now They play naked in the water You know it’s hard, heaven knows I’ve tried But it just keeps getting harder

3 years later…

and Leonard is about to graduate for the third time in his life. And he’s praying to a God that he doesn’t believe in because he thinks that this might just be it. By this time tomorrow he will be a certified xeno-medical doctor. It took him significantly less time because he was already a doctor in the civilian world before he joined Star Fleet so he’s graduating early. Moving on with the man that has quickly become the best friend that he’s had since the one he hasn’t talked to in almost 21 years. Jim Kirk.

The cocky bastard has stood by Leonard since meeting him on the transport shuttle 3 years to the day. And now they’re moving on together. The U.S.S. Enterprise calls their name and in less than 48 hours the duo will be venturing in to the unknown. Boldly going where no man has gone before. . . or something like that. 

Fates a bitch though because try as he might, Leonards past comes back to haunt him. And this time its harder. Because now its you. 

After the Narada incident. After Jim succeeds Captain Pike and Commander Spock for the Captaincy. After Leonard assumes the role of Chief Medical Officer aboard the Enterprise they have to re-supply. New equipment, and after the lost crew has been buried, new personnel. Which means you. 

You’ve been reassigned and are now the Head Nurse aboard the Fleets newest ship. And 21 years of pain and suffering come to smack the good doctor in the face the minute he sees you. 

“Dr. McCoy, I’m Nurse Y/L/N. I’m you’re new head of nursing.” And fuck. . . if he doesn’t still recognize that sweet as sugar voice that he hasn’t heard in years. 

“Y/N… “ he all but whispers. And your head snaps up at the use of your first name from that voice that you had long ago adored. 

Oh won’t you lay me, won’t you lay me down Won’t you lay me, oh won’t you lay me down Oh Won’t you lay me, say won’t you lay me down Won’t you lay me down

Leonard grabs your hand and pulls you in to his office, much to the bewilderment of the rest of his staff. “What are you doing here?” He asks as soon as he’s shut the door. He’s reeling. How can this be? 

“Len, I… I can’t believe its you.” you say going up to him. All of a sudden as if you’ve noticed your proximity you step back a micro-meter of a step. Knowing in your mind that if you were to hop on to one of the bio-beds it would immediately begin to scream from the sheer force with which your heart is beating inside your chest. And whats more is that you know Leonard can tell. 

He looks bewildered. Like he’s seen a ghost. And suddenly you can’t look at the man with whom you fell in love with the minute you met him. So you run. Like you did the first time.

Oh I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait for you Yeah I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait for you Oh I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait for you Oh I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait for you

And Leonard doesn’t know what to do. One second you were there. In his office. In his medbay! The next you were gone. And his mind is screaming at him. “Run! Run after her!” But he can’t. His feet are glued to the floor. 

Suddenly though it’s like his feet are thinking for him and he’s sprinting after you. He can just make out your shiny locks as they disappear through the medbay doors and he’s on auto pilot. 

“Y/N! wait! Darlin’ hold on.” and you do but not before knocking in to a door that you could have sworn was not there before. And then your on the ground. And Leonard is above you seconds later. 

“Darlin’ are you okay?” He asks but your eyes are closed and you’re not responding. “Y/N! wake up sweetheart.” and again Leonard is praying to a God he doesn’t believe in to “Please let her be okay.” and he’s yelling at people around him to “give her some space damnit!” 

Again, he’s on autopilot. Carrying you as fast as his legs will allow back to medbay and laying you on a biobed. 

And then it’s a waiting game. Because your knocked out for, to Leonard, what seems like hours. Which gives Leonard the time to process all that has taken place. 

[inyournightmares97]

My Youth (Chapter 2)

Broken and miserable, Park Jinyoung returns to his hometown to learn that no matter how hard he falls, there are still people who think he’s a hero.

Warnings: Angst, slow build, maybe some language. (Please don’t ask when I’ll update. Wait until the series is finished to read if you’re impatient.)

Word Count: 2.8k

(Check my Masterlist for the Prologue and Chapter 1, I can’t put links here!)

For a celebrity, Park Jinyoung did an excellent job of keeping a low profile.

Not a single soul had  figured out that he was back in town. You had expected that people would find out at some point. After all, Jinyoung had other friends in town that he might want to get in touch with. Jackson Wang, for example. Or at least the convenience story lady would have seen him, wouldn’t she? When he went in to buy a toothbrush or something? This town was full of people who knew who Park Jinyoung was but you heard no murmur about his return. Surely he hadn’t spent the last three days locked up inside his house?

Apparently, that was exactly what he had been doing.

“He sleeps all day,” Mrs. Park whispered, upset. She had called you up during your lunch break and she sounded miserable. “He barely gets out of bed, and he eats whatever I cook for him but he goes straight back to sleep. I thought he was just tired so I let him be, but… three days? Whenever I try to ask him what’s wrong, he goes quiet and stops answering me.”

You bit your lip and took a deep breath. You didn't want to hear about Park Jinyoung. In fact, you wanted nothing more than to never hear his name spoken again. His sleeping habits were the last thing you wanted to care about. But Mrs. Park sounded heartbroken and you couldn’t hang up on the worried mother.

“Hasn’t he left the house at all?” you asked reluctantly.

“He hasn’t. He just sits in his room,” she muttered. She suddenly lowered her voice. “And… his phone keeps ringing, almost constantly. But he never answers it. He just sits and stares at it.”

You blinked. “And he doesn’t even want to take a walk or something?”

“No. I tried to get him to go out, but he says that he’s worried people will recognize him. You know we gave away the car after Mr. Park’s health left him unable to drive…”

You sighed and nodded. The older man’s eyesight had gotten so bad that he wasn’t even allowed to drive any longer. Despite their son being one of the richest young entrepreneurs in the country, the Parks took the bus everywhere. “You should try to get Jinyoung to leave the house and get some fresh air,” you suggested vaguely. “It seems to me like he doesn’t want to interact with the townsfolk but he can’t keep up that childish behaviour if he wants to stay here for any amount of time.”

Mrs. Park sighed. “I know, I just don’t know how to convince him… Would you be willing to lend him your bike, dear?”

You paused. “My bike?”

“Yes, maybe he would feel more comfortable riding around on a bike rather than walking, so that he wouldn’t have to stop and talk to people who recognized him,” she admitted reluctantly. “But if it’s a bother, dear, never mind it-”

“No, it’s fine,” you admitted to the older woman with a sigh. Mrs. Park had done so much for you. The least you could do was lend her son your bike. “I barely use it anyway. You can tell him to come by the school around 3 o’clock and take it from me.”

“Really? Dear, that would be so lovely!”  

Yes, absolutely lovely.

---

“Hey! Miss First Grade!”

You smiled and waved as you watched Jackson Wang jog over to you with a smile. He was wearing his usual gym teacher’s outfit; comfortable grey track-pants and a t-shirt with a whistle on a string around his neck. More consistent than his outfits, though, was his smile. Jackson always had a bright smile on his face.

“Hey, Mr. Gym Teacher,” you teased him in return. There was a sheen of sweat on Jackson’s brow and you couldn’t help but chuckle. Your class had Gym last period and nothing delighted you more than sitting in an empty classroom and looking down on the school-yard as Jackson miserably tried to keep your students in check. “You look tired today. Did the kids wear you out?”

Jackson looked offended. “Of course not. They’re a delight!”

“Are you sure?”

“Okay. So Jangmi had a little temper tantrum when I told her to play by the rules and she might have tried to bite me in the arm, but I had everything under control! Nobody even went to the nurse’s office today! Not even Ki-woo, and he always gets hurt,” Jackson stated proudly, folding his buff arms across his chest.  

You frowned and sighed. Ki-woo was intelligent but you worried that he could somehow never gain the respect of his classmates. “You mean he always gets targeted by the other children. How do I stop him from getting bullied?”

Jackson bit his lip. “Come on. It’s not bullying.”

“He barely has any friends.”

“Some kids are just quieter and less social than others. They need a little more time to get noticed and shine, that’s all. Trust me. I have an eye for these things and Ki-woo is fine. You’re just worried because you have a soft spot for him, that’s all,” Jackson told you with a playful grin. He nudged your shoulder and you blinked, confused.

“Hey. I do not have a soft spot for Ki-woo. All my students are equal to me!” you protested.

Jackson beamed and then winked. “Okay, but we all know he reminds you of someone, right?”

“What?”

“You know!”

“I have no idea, Jackson.”

Jackson looked exasperated, as though he couldn’t believe that you were being this dense. “Park Jinyoung! He’s just like Park Jinyoung was at that age! Extremely bright with enormous potential. Soft-spoken, yet just really waiting to be noticed. Granted, Jinyoung got a lot more confident towards the later part of elementary school but… there was a time when he was exactly like Ki-woo. You don’t agree?”

You stared at Jackson, your heartbeat thudding. Was that true? Did Ki-woo resemble a young Jinyoung? Something inside of your stomach twisted. “I don’t really see it. Ki-woo is much sweeter than Jinyoung ever was.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Jinyoung knew how to be sweet to the teachers just like how Ki-woo knows how to capture your heart. Don’t underestimate six years old kids, Miss First Grade.”

You frowned at him. “Don’t you need to go collect the stray balls lying on the field before one of the kids injures themselves?”

Jackson gasped and nodded. “Damn it, you’re right! I’ll see you tomorrow, then!”

You waved goodbye to Jackson and then hurried past him, your heartbeat thudding. Why did he have to bring up Jinyoung today of all days? It was bad enough that thoughts of Park Jinyoung had been polluting your mind ever since you saw him. Now you were going to see Jinyoung every time you looked at Ki-woo as well.

Damn Jackson Wang and his big mouth.

You walked out of the school yard and glanced around. There was a small bench by the side of the road and a lone figure sat on it. So he’s here on time.  Jinyoung was wearing a thick black hoodie that covered his head and his face was covered with a black mask; the kind celebrities usually wore to avoid being recognized. You stifled a laugh. Was this his attempt at appearing inconspicuous? He stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Jinyoung!” you called out to him.

Jinyoung’s eyes widened in panic and he whirled around to face you, placing a finger over the mouth part of his mask and signalling you to shut up. Almost nothing of his skin was visible. As you approached his bench you couldn’t help but make a biting remark.

“Why are you dressed like you’re about to rob a bank?” you asked him. Jinyoung glanced around and made sure the street was empty before reluctantly lowering his mask. His plush lips were pressed together and his stubble had grown in the last three days. You gasped. “My god, you look awful.”

Jinyoung flinched. “Excuse me?”

He did. His skin was pale and there were dark circles around his eyes. Along with his unshaven face, Park Jinyoung looked unkempt and messy. No wonder his mother was worried about him. This was a man who was not in a healthy frame of mind. Something in his dark eyes looked almost dead and for a brief moment, you felt scared. What was wrong with him?

“Jinyoung…” you began slowly. You were cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. Jinyoung fished it out of his pocket. A dark look crossed his face when he saw the caller ID and he instantly silenced it, shoving it back in his pocket firmly. You blinked. It was still vibrating in his pocket. You could hear the faint buzzing. “Don’t you need to take that?”

No. I’m on break,” he replied firmly and folded his arms across his chest. “Look, I don’t really want to be here. I’m only here because my mother kicked me out of the house.”

You blinked. “No wonder. Have you even seen sunlight in the last three days?”

“Why do you care?”

You felt a burst of irritation. Even if Jinyoung didn’t particularly want to embrace you as his old friend, did he need to be so rude all the time? You glared at him. “I don’t. Do whatever you want. Your mother asked me to lend you my bike, that’s the only reason I’m here. Come on. It’s locked up around the back of the school in the parking lot.”

Jinyoung followed you silently as you led the way. He left the mask pulled down under his chin, but pulled his hood up over his head carefully. After a brief silence of nothing but his phone buzzing, he cleared his throat.

“Uh, do you… do you work here or something?”

You glanced at him. “Huh?”

“Do you work at the school? Is that why you’re here at this time of day?” Jinyoung questioned you slowly. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment.

Of course. Jinyoung didn’t know anything about you. You hadn’t spoken to him in years, he probably never even heard about what you did in college or how you were living now. You, on the other hand, could read about his life in magazines. Jinyoung was famous and you were a nobody. You suddenly felt extremely small.

“I’m a teacher,” you told him quietly. You could feel his eyes staring at you. “First grade.”

There was a small pause and then Jinyoung chuckled.

“Figures,” he muttered.

Your stomach twisted and you stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. Jinyoung seemed startled by the sudden fire in your eyes as you pointed at him furiously.

“Why? Because I was never as smart as you are? Because you’re some fancy big-shot while I’m just an elementary school teacher in the countryside? Does it amuse you to look down on the people that you left behind, Park Jinyoung?” you snapped. You weren’t sure what had suddenly ignited this flame inside of you, but your mouth wouldn’t stop running. “Do you think that nobody except you had the potential to make it from this small town?”

Jinyoung stared at you, wide-eyed and startled. “What…? No.”

Your chest was heaving and your tone became more acidic. “Of course. Figures that I’m not smart enough to do anything except teach the first grade, right? After all, how could anyone compare to your level of genius and skill?”

“Will you stop it?” Jinyoung snapped. His eyebrows were furrowed together and he sounded annoyed. “That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t looking down on your intelligence. I only meant that it figures you would be a school-teacher because you always liked cute things, like little animals and kids. The job suits your personality, that’s all I meant.”

You felt a rush of shame and your cheeks flushed pink. “O-oh.”

Jinyoung frowned and tsked. “God, you’re worse than those journalists who try to twist my words. Where is this stupid bicycle of yours parked, anyway? We’ve pretty much walked past the entire school.”

You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath and trying to calm yourself. You idiot. Why did you have to explode and make yourself look stupid? Stay calm. Don’t let him rile you up.  You bit your lip and led Jinyoung over to the bicycle stand where your black bicycle was chained up.

“It’s over here,” you muttered, fishing in your pocket for the keys. Jinyoung’s sharp eyes were following your every movement and you felt flustered under his scrutiny. His phone was still buzzing in his pocket as you fumbled with the lock distractedly. It was a full minute before you could unlock it and the little chain came off in your hand. “It’s not in great condition, to be honest, I don’t use it very often so it might need some oiling or something if you want it to not make creaky noises…”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow. “You don’t use it? Why do you keep it at school then?”

“I only ride the bicycle when I have to. I normally take the bus to and from school, it’s much more convenient. There aren’t any proper bicycle lanes in our little town” you explained.

Jinyoung nodded.  “Right. You don’t like navigating traffic.”

You shrugged. “Well, yeah. But sometimes I have to stay late and the buses stop running at nine pm. So I keep the bicycle here so I’m not stranded at night. My apartment is a few miles away.”

“You’re sure you won’t need it for a while?”

“I can take the bus like I always do,” you replied. You raised an eyebrow at him. “Can you?”

JInyoung bit his lip and reached out for the handlebars of the bicycle. “I can, but I don’t want random people recognizing me and finding out I’m here. I know how fast word spreads in this town. Before long, they’ll be putting my face in the local paper again. I want to avoid that.”

You stared at him. “Why? Why are you so worried that people will find you?”

“It’s none of your business-”

“You’re not… running from something, are you? Or someone?” you asked nervously. It struck you that Jinyoung’s behaviour was increasingly suspicious. His phone was still buzzing from inside of his hoodie pocket. “Are you in some kind of danger? Is someone trying to track you down?”   

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow. “What kind of danger could I possibly be in?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been to Seoul. The mafia…?” you trailed off doubtfully.

Jinyoung’s mouth fell open a little bit in disbelief and he sighed. “Wow. You really need to stop spending time with my mother. She asked me the exact same thing this morning. There’s no fucking mafia, okay? I’m just taking a break from work and I came home to rest. I don’t want any bloody journalists or curious people snooping around so for heaven’s sake, if anyone weird comes asking about me then tell them you don’t know me.”

You frowned. “Fine.”

“Thanks for the bicycle. I’m leaving now,” Jinyoung told you shortly. You watched as he carefully mounted the bike and began to ride it. He wobbled a little bit for a few seconds and you giggled, but he soon regained his balance and cycled smoothly out of the parking lot.

You watched Jinyoung leave silently. It wasn’t until you turned to go back into the school that you remembered the bicycle lock and chain were still in your hands.

“Jinyoung! Wait, Jinyoung!” you called out, but he didn’t hear you. Idiot. How could he leave without taking the lock and chain? What if he leaves the bike somewhere without locking it up and it gets stolen? You hurried after him and ran onto the road, calling out. “Hey! You forgot the bicycle lock!”

Jinyoung didn’t hear you. He had already cycled halfway down the road and began crossing the bridge that went over the river. His figure became smaller in the distance but he suddenly slowed down and dismounted halfway across the bridge. Had he stopped because he heard you? You waved a hand in the air hopefully but Jinyoung wasn’t looking at you.

He was staring out at the water.

Your stomach twisted. Even from this distance, you could tell that something was wrong. Jinyoung gripped the railing of the bridge tightly and swung back and forth on the balls of his feet for a good minute, as though he were contemplating something. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the cellphone that had been constantly buzzing during your conversation with him.

With one strong, firm thrust, Jinyoung flung the cellphone into the water. It fell into the rapidly flowing river and then disappeared in seconds.

Then he got back onto the bicycle and rode away.

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