#last two days were miserable fever body ache type stuff

[epiphytedyke]

covid finally got me 😔

[pine-lark]

Ooh trap him somewhere either very hot or very cold?? :D

Oh.

Oh.

This is a perfect excuse to write an old daydream from my childhood. Well, there's two-- Arion on a grill and Arion in a box. I chose the box for this one but I may be tempted to write the grill at some point. I haven't written The Box before now because it doesn't exactly... fit with the plot of the actual story, but I mean...

Alternate Rescue AU, coming right up, Anon. (Also sorry I'm like, infinitely late haha. School threw me into a hell pit and I've been recovering. I'm back now ((though I'm not sure for how long, things might change in a week or two... we'll see.)) For now, I'm working on a lot of Arion stuff that will hopefully pop up within a few days! Cheers!)

CW: Tiny whumpee, some blood, cold/hypothermia symptoms (duh), cages/referenced captivity, briefly implied forced nudity from said captivity, brief reference to a past fever and resulting vomiting, referenced/implied physical abuse, water/rain/storms/being submerged in/splashed with water, thoughts of dying (of the "I might die" and "Am I dead?" and wishing to be put out of misery type), crying, (thinking about) needles, short (kind of) graphic description of a bird being run over, brief religion references

-

His legs still ache from running.

Arion sits in the cardboard box he found on the side of the road, huddled in the corner, shivering in the dark. Although he tries to clamp his jaw shut and stop it, his teeth chatter and his shoulders quiver. It feels like the frozen autumn air has grasped him entirely in icy claws that shake him violently in an inescapable grip. It reminds him of being trapped in Heston’s hand, shaken, body tossed in every direction until his head pounded and his eyes watered.

It’s colder outside than it used to be in the garage. But it’s better out here. No one can hurt him here.

As long as they don’t find him.

He rubs his hands over the goosebumps on his arms, hoping to warm them up and calm down the wild pain buried deep in his skin. As he does so, blood smears along the path he touches. It’s still gently creeping out of the series of cuts etched into his forearms. With it, the image of Heston’s glinting eyes surfaces in Arion’s memory. He buries his head in his shaking knees with a wet sniff. But he’s done it, he reminds himself. He’s escaped. Finally. Chewed through rope, slipped through an unlocked door. Heston's gone. For now.

Please, please don’t come looking for me.

A dog barks somewhere in the distance. He jumps. It sets off an echo of shivers all the way down his spine as his hair stands on end.

A raindrop falls on the cardboard roof. Then another, and another. Thunder claps harshly overhead.

Arion shuts his eyes tight, bites back the frustrated tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. He curls up tighter, hugging himself, doing all he can to keep any scrap of heat he has close to his body. A storm might just do it. Might just kill him. A storm means wind. Freezing wind. And freezing rain. The last thing he needs right now is rain. It can’t rain. He presses his body closer to the cardboard wall, knowing it might not be standing there much longer if it rains.

And it does. It pours.

He sees the rain splash into the road before him. The storm swiftly grows. It’s ferocious and feral and cruel. The temperature around Arion drops. His tiny body shakes uncontrollably, as if it weren’t his own. It reminds him of the terrifying fever he had, long ago, in the confines of his red cage just weeks after being taken from his home. He’d been throwing up and twitching and having the most horrible, vivid dreams (on the occasions that both Heston and the illness let him sleep). The fits of shivering drove him mad, the endless teeth-chattering and flashes of uncomfortable warmth and sticky sweat made him feel even worse. It's like that, he thinks. Except, now, as he shivers, he’s unbearably cold.

An involuntary whine fights its way out of him. When he swallows, his throat feels stiff and achy. Snot runs profusely down his lips and no amount of wiping it away with his bleeding arms is helping it slow. Water has thoroughly and entirely drenched the cardboard, at this point. Has crept through the floor and the walls, and, gradually and persistently, has started to drip through the sagging ceiling. For a moment, Arion remembers he has toes, and that they’ve been numb for awhile now. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, his feet haven’t felt like anything either, and when he tries to move his fingers, they only twitch. They feel heavy and prickly. He feels prickly all over. Like Heston had shoved a thousand frozen needles into a thousand different places all over his body. It hurts to breathe. There’s no way to get warmer. Nothing to hide under, not even something as decent as clothing. No way to escape, nowhere to run to, even if he had the energy left to try. He lets out a miserable sob.

And then the ceiling falls through, in a blur of collapsing cardboard and splashing waves of water that crash over his head and the rest of his body.

Arion tumbles out of the box, drenched. He coughs up water through jittery movements. For a second, he chokes on a mouthful, and he briefly he thinks he'll never breathe again, before his chest jerks and with another cough, the water falls out of his mouth. He tries to get his arms and legs under him, to stand or even crawl, but his limbs fail him and he crumbles face-first back to the harsh surface below him. The rocks mixed in the road’s tar are sharp. They cut deeply through his nose and cheek and the shoulder that followed his face in the fall. Arion winces against the fresh, sharp pain and the beads of blood that begin to form where he’s been hurt. His breaths come in ragged heaves.

He sniffs. Tears drip from his eyes. He lays helpless in the middle of the little road, in his mind begging to no one that a car doesn’t come along and crush him. Under any other circumstance, he’d love to be put out of his misery. But he’s seen a bird been run over before. Under a truck’s tire. And the memory makes his stomach churn. Flattened face, open stomach, popped like a bubble in a stream.

Briefly, Arion thinks of himself in place of the bird. He thinks of the smear of red underneath his empty, open eyes. He thinks of the way the headlights might look as they would suddenly appear right in front of him. The horrid, mind-numbing honk of a horn. The image he creates in his mind of those headlights, his last moments, is vivid. It’s so vivid that he thinks it might be real, or maybe hypothermia is setting in and beginning to ruin his mind.

It’s just his imagination, he thinks.

And then he smells exhaust from a car.

And the screech of brakes.

And for a second, whilst his body is numb and bright white light is all he can see, he thinks he might be dead.

“I swear, if I keep stopping my car for every mouse that sits in front of it, I’m never going to get anywhere.”

That voice drifts from the car stopped in front of him.

Not dead, then.

Almost, he thinks.

“Can’t help it though. What else am I supposed to do, run them over? Just vet instincts, I guess. Huh, Jasper.” There’s a meow in response. Arion’s breath hitches. The voice says, “Me-ow. I know, I know. I’ll be right back.” A car door shuts. Then there’s heavy wet footsteps. Boots clopping over puddles and asphalt. Panic floods Arion’s chest as a shadow cuts through the blinding white light from the vehicle. The outline of a human lowers, kneels in front of him. His breath stops. His mind goes blank.

“What…”

A moment passes. Something touches him. He flinches hard, but trying to run isn’t an option. His body is completely, entirely, wholly exhausted and far too numb to move more than flailing back a couple inches.

“Oh, geez, that’s-- not a mouse. Okay.” Her head turns in a way that Arion can see her face. A young woman with red hair, watching him with a warm but frantic gaze. “Okay. Okay okay. Oh, God, you’re injured pretty bad, little buddy. Your arms are all… cut up. That’s not good. Um.”

Arion stares blankly ahead. Suddenly, freezing to death isn’t something he feels like putting too much effort into avoiding.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” the girl continues. “I’m gonna bring you into my car where I can see you better, alright? Then I can help you. It’s gonna be okay. Here. I’m picking you up now, ‘kay?”

The feeling of a warm hand washes over his body. It’s both terrifying and incredibly welcome. The sting of cold seems to seep out of his skin, albeit very slowly. Quickly, though, burning prickles replace whatever comfort the touch brought him.

“Oh, you’re freezing, little guy. You must have been out here for a long time. That can be really dangerous… I’m glad I found you. I’ll get you all warmed up in the car.”

Arion whimpers against the hands that carry him to somewhere warmer, where he hears the faint, deep sound of a large beating heart. For a second, he wonders if this is God. And then the car door opens and creaks, and the girl curses under her breath, and Arion remembers he’s an atheist.

Still, as the stinging in his warming skin subsides, the warmth of her hands starts to feel… nice. If his mind were still intact (instead of shattered into vague, useless fragments as it is now), Arion would have done anything and everything to get away from any human or other predatory beast in sight. But with his head swimming, he leans into her touch, and compliantly accepts the soft feeling of some kind of cloth being wrapped all around him.

Words are spoken to him, but he can’t listen. To him they sound broken up and blurry as the insistence of sleep becomes more desperate in the back of his mind. As he gets warmer, his muscles relax, and his eyes get droopy. His vision darkens, and the girl’s voice hushes.

Just before he drifts off into a far overdue, deep and restful sleep, he thinks to himself, vaguely, that he hopes this human is different. He hopes that when he wakes back up, it won’t be in another cage.

-

Tag list because this ended up being a full drabble:

(Also, let me know if you'd like to be removed from the tag list. No hurt feelings! I know it's been a long time and if you've lost interest that is A-Okay, friend)

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@whumping-every-day, @deluxewhump, @sola-whumping, @haro-whumps, @inaridriscoll, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @kiretto-laorentze, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @ahorriblebimess, @whump-me-all-night-long

[bbhyeoliskooks]

…〔𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬〕…

FINAL, PT. TWO.

Having an unrequited crush on Soobin was difficult, but you manage to make them hidden so he’s oblivious. It’s getting harder though, since each time you see him, you fall deeper into his mesmerizing eyes. You want to get rid of your feelings for him, so you grow closer to a boy named Beomgyu. However, when your one of your best friends, Sunhye asks you to back away so she can have a chance with Soobin, everything inevitably comes crashing down on you.

intro / one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / finale, pt. 1 / finale, pt. 2

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Pairing: Beomgyu x Reader (female) x Soobin

Genre: 3 cups of angst and 50 cups of fluff !!

Warnings: self-harm, blood, being sick, fluffy fluff fluff cheesy stuff, and some cringy angst ofc

(If curious, read my thoughts as the end of this part.)

Playlist: Can’t Take My Eyes Off You, Something, Still Into You, Confession, Crazy For You

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You saw him.

You actually saw him.

“Y/N, hey! Come back, you’re sick!”

You didn’t listen.

“It’s raining outside, don’t go!”

But how could you not?

You finally saw him for the first time in weeks.

Seeing his squishy cheeks form a tiny dimple as you ran up to him with all of the strength you had left in your body- the ones you love to pinch so much whenever he felt down... seeing his doe eyes widen upon laying eyes on you- the ones that sparkled whenever you mentioned ice cream or bread... seeing his bright beam reflect off yours when you told him about an accomplishment of something you’ve worked hard for- the one that you grew to adore along the way of being his best friend... it was so easy to run up to him like it was nothing despite what happened.

He was right there in front of you, you couldn’t lose this chance you’ve anticipated for so long.

For the first few seconds, you were actually... okay? Okay- the type where you believed you were happy. You were fine, you felt like you were doing well! You were fine because you saw him and his smile that was as radiant as him. You were doing well because he was happy, really. He was happy... right? That smile on his face said everything. As if you didn’t discover you had a fever earlier, you thought everything was going to be okay until you saw the regret color his bright cheeks.

Dark flowers bloomed at the front of his face as he hid his eyes with long bangs, gazing down immediately once you arrived. His smile faltered for a few seconds before turning into a deep frown. Of course seeing him made you happy, didn’t it? It obviously should have; you expected that the euphoria on cloud nine which came from this situation would last for a while.

His voice trembled when he finally spoke up, not being able to look you straight in the eyes as he murmured:

“Y/N, my heart isn’t ready to see you yet.”

But that... it didn’t bring you true happiness after a few seconds. It didn’t bring you a big smile to grow on your face while his gradually broke off. It was what you feared the most, but one you knew deep down was the truth. Soobin still must’ve been mad at you, right? And most definitely, happiness was just a simple emotion to use right now, wasn’t it? Instead of what you had expected, it brought tugging at your heart strings, pulling back and forth just to try and pull it out of your chest and into the puddles below. You would let it wither and break even just to bask in the sight of him happy again.

What you needed to realize most in that moment was that ‘what’s done is done and nothing can change that,’ an epiphany that hadn’t clicked from before. You’ve hurt him, and there’s nothing you can do about it even if you gave up your entire self. You could’ve had this relationship with Soobin, but eventually you would become unhappy seeing Beomgyu with another person. Just- all you wanted, all you wanted right now was to go back in time and forgive everyone because that was the best thing to do in lieu of taking revenge. Everything could’ve been so different, and maybe it would be the better option compared to all this. Was that too much to ask for?

And just like that the boy disappeared from your sight, running into the storm brewing outside.

He was gone.

“Soobin, no wait! Come back, please!” You dashed out as soon as you heard the footsteps that were once close to you click farther, splashing out in the puddles outside in little pit pats. Many of the students were pushed out of his way in a instant, with you squeezing in between the sandwiched bodies of students. You knew you were being completely selfish to want to see him, but all of this pent up frustration and feverish functions combining into one made your actions bold. He didn’t have to know that you were there, you just wanted to see his bunny smile and how happy he was without you either way.

Before you knew it, the slippery puddles made your heels plant into the floor the wrong way and you dropped to the ground, elbows digging into the wet dirt. You groaned at the flashing pain over your body, flooding through the torso and into your aching feet. The barren willow tree you always met up with Soobin after school seemed to be mocking you now, waving its dead arms at you while you tried to endure the pain. All of your strength had evaporated into dust now, and you couldn’t help but tear up because of your mistakes, your faults, your timing, and most importantly because of you, yourself.

Strong structures you built because of your experiences fell apart on the ground, knees planted on tiny, jagged rocks where the rough edges cut through your skin. It made you gnarl your teeth at the feeling, but what stung more was that you made a fool of yourself in front of the friend you promised most to respect. You covered your face with tingling fingers, embarrassed of yourself to run out in this weather without even finding him in the end like you wished. Something was incredibly wrong with you that you resorted to being such a pathetic loser. You shouldn’t have done this; it’s all your fault and now everything is back to the cycle of blaming what happened on you.

It was pitiful you were calling out his name like this, wishing with all your might that someone would save you.

“I’m sorry for being selfish enough to see you, Soobin...” You hoped he would hear you, but he was gone.

“I’m sorry for hurting you...” You hoped he would be sincerely happy in front of you, but he was gone.

“I’m sorry for being the worst friend ever...” You hoped he would see how much of a mess you are without him, but he was gone.

“I’m sorry for realizing too late what I’ve been doing wrong this whole time.” There was nothing you could do to help either of you anymore. You gave up. And he was gone.

Crying wouldn’t help with the situation at all, but could you just think of yourself for once? After weeks and weeks and weeks of putting on a smile despite hearing the shatter of Soobin’s heart in your ears 24/7, you had enough of all this crap. You were pushed to the limit, and this is what occurred. You were done with everything.

Pit!

Pat!

Although the drops of rain had echoed off into the distance, you could no longer feel anymore drops of water fall on the crown of your head. Had it stopped raining in this area? That wasn’t possible... a shadow loomed over your figure that you believed it was just another dreary cloud from above, guarding over you so you wouldn’t look so pathetic in front of the whole school population.

Instead you glanced up to see a red umbrella with spots decorated all over, protecting you from the rain that had already soaked you wet.

Looking to who was underneath the ladybug umbrella glistened with the sparkling tears of rain, you found your eyes to be set on Beomgyu whose nose was sniffling from the effects of fret each second. His expression was nothing short of worried, his usual cheery face falling apart at how weak you were kneeling on the ground. Tears were welling up in your eyes as he crouched down to get closer to you- to give you words of comfort, to hug you, even to hold your hand as a sign that he was there for you more than anyone else you could’ve thought of.

He failed to notice that he was soaking wet, but honestly he couldn’t give one damn. It didn’t matter that he ruined his uniform in order to progress through the day without feeling uncomfortable. Seeing how you ran out even with a raging fever, it made his heart clench in his chest. You felt so guilty that you were willing to do anything in order to make it hurt less, and the help he gave wasn’t enough even if he tried with the best of his abilities. The voice he had saved up practicing in order to make you feel better failed miserably, becoming stagnant in his throat where he wasn’t able to speak the words of his heart.

How could he make you feel better if all he knew was to cause more pain unintentionally?

“Beomgyu, I’m sorry...” You fell into his chest, undoing your agony with heart wrenching cries that he felt rain of his own gather in a puddle dripping down his cheek. With no complaints he swooped you in his arms and wrapped them around your waist, dropping the ladybug umbrella which bounced off the pavement and into the gateway.

“I know, princess. I know. Just let it all out,” he whispered into the top of your head before pulling you closer. His warmth had to be enough for now, right? He hoped it would work.

The intimidating rain seemed to grow weaker now, and you found yourself making a friend of an enemy once Beomgyu was finally by your side again.

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“The nurse said you had a fever the other day- and yet, you ran out into the pouring rain just like that? I’m upset,” he pouted his lips, staring at the bowl of chicken noodle soup he prepared himself a few minutes earlier. Your nose twitched at the delectable smell but instead of eating like he asked, you snuggled into the cozy blankets which were overflowing with the familiar scent of his cologne. It never failed to always bring you a peaceful feeling even if you felt like you were going to break.

Speaking of which, his hugs noticeably gave you a lot of strength. Was it too much to ask to let him…? No, that isn’t right!

You snuggled into his blankets once more upon hearing his soothing voice, taking in the familiar scent of your safe place. All his words went through one ear and out the other when he came into the room, pondering about how he managed to help you in ways that even he didn’t acknowledge. With that being said, he didn’t have to do this for you. To make you soup when you were battling a case of a fever or to make you feel better since you were sure he had many bigger problems than you. It was burdensome that you were bothering him enough already with the exception of being sick, and you felt terrible in the end for being such a burden. He’d most likely get sick after, and you’d be the one to blame. Beomgyu shouldn’t be doing this for you no matter how kind he is.

“Gyu, don’t do this for me.”

Beomgyu plopped down beside you, laying the tray onto the messy bed stand. At first, he was scared his room wouldn’t be a good place to let you stay in for the meanwhile since it was a bit untidy, but the rising heat on your forehead begged him differently. When you spoke, he noticed that your voice was all stuffy because of your nose, and all the more he just couldn’t stop adoring you. You were quite the adorable scene when you were sick, but he was hoping that you’d get better so you’d go back to school healthy and happy with him.

In one way, this did mean one thing! He could take care of you without your objections since you’re considerably weaker and prove to you that he can help you whenever you need someone to lean on! All this time, his heart has only desired that- to help you feel comfortable in yourself because you’ve grown as a person.

Patting your head which was still covered by the fluffy sheets, he drew closer to you while cooing only a few words you were able to make sense of in your state. “You cute idiot… you’re lucky I like you so much that I can forgive you easily.”

You only responded in a sneeze causing Beomgyu to break out in a fit of giggles. It’d been so long that he got to care for you when you were like this, how about we give it a year? He missed all of this, quite honestly! Not to mention the little things you did were making his heart waver, he had to admit. There really was no lie in that if somebody asked him. Even when you were sick, you could still do this to him. And yes although he isn’t saying it out loud, it was the truth! If he couldn’t get more whipped than this, then what was the point?

The sight of scratches and a bit of blood on your knees made him gasp and he made a move to get to the medical kit over at the other room until you tugged at his arm.

Apprehensively he stared down at you, his hand cupping your cheeks so that you’d let go. Though he doesn’t mind if you do this whenever you pleased, this isn’t the right time since you’re simultaneously sick and hurt.

“Come on,” Beomgyu’s smile that shot towards you made you go weak in the knees, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You swore he got so tiring like this sometimes!

“How about we fix the cuts on your knees? Oh wait, no! Let’s eat first? But your kneels’ll hurt if you sit up! Ah, what should I do?!”

That needless, wary expression set on his face once you peeked out from the blanket made the smile on your face grow even wider before laughter got a hold of you and you snickered at how sweet he was. His eyes widened when he saw you burst out in laughter before joining you with his own hearty yet comforting chuckles. He’d always been like this that you never had an opportunity to stop being so worried, so right now was the perfect time to reassure him.

Snuggling up to him with the blanket making you look like a caterpillar, you closed your eyes in pure relief while rubbing your head against his arm. It felt so warm when you finally huddled up against him like this after a while.

Feeling him turn towards you, giggling when you moved even closer to his embrace only encouraged your boldness more. “Let’s just stay like this, okay my Gyugyubear?”

You expected an answer, only to find that he was cooing at you with duck pouted lips and a red, blushing nose.

Like he said, the things you did to him any time of the day...

Now how could he possibly say no to those adorable, shining eyes?

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School was in fact, the same when you came back.

It had been almost two weeks since you hadn’t gone to school, and you knew it was your fault for the overflowing amount of lessons and assignments that piled up on your plate. You knew that one of the boys- whom you knew Beomgyu would volunteer the most- would try to help you, but this was your doing in the first place! The sight was enough for your stomach to start churning, and this was one of the reasons why you absolutely despised school when the time called for it. Hopefully you’d be able to finish all of it once the week was over in order to study for finals that were coming up.

Snapping out of your thoughts once you heard soothing Beomgyu’s voice melt into your ear, you glanced down to see both of your hands connected without even noticing in the first place. He playfully grinned at you when you teasingly tried to pull away, only bringing you closer so that the two of you could walk side by side.

He guided you smoothly along the hallways, creating enough space for you to walk comfortably although you (both) knew you didn’t ask for it. It was just the way Beomgyu was.

“If it makes you feel better, just know that I’m right by your side whenever you need me, okay? I know I’ve said it a lot of times, but I feel like you haven’t taken me seriously until now. I want you to know that I’m here as someone you can cry on if you ever need a shoulder to cry on,” he murmured softly as he squeezed your hand.

You nodded your head at his words, reaching up your other free hand to ruffle his curly, black hair. “You’re so cheesy for bringing this up all of a sudden, Gyu! But yeah, I’m sorry for not realizing it sooner when you’ve tried to prove it hundreds of times. Maybe if I just understood you more, we would probably be even closer, don’t you think? Ai, I can’t even see why you’ve stayed here for so long anyway, but thank you so much,” you couldn’t help the soft grin that permeated your lips when you spoke to him, realizing how much he’d done for you unconditionally.

Suddenly he halted in his tracks upon hearing that, causing you to look back with confusion. Did you say something wrong? You swore you almost fell if not for the strong grip he had on your hand. That’d be so embarrassing considering you almost did! If he was going to stop, then at least he could tell you before you could accidentally stretch your arm out too much!

When you turned back to see him however, you could feel your cheeks burn up with warm fuzzies spreading everywhere. That same soft grin which reciprocated yours from before had every part of your body becoming like jelly in front of him and you weren’t able to stop yourself from becoming entranced with him all the more. You forgot to mention that his messy yet somehow looking stylish hair really suited him now, and you had to admit that it made your heart do skips whenever you saw him. Since when had he looked so soft all of a sudden?... But this wasn’t the perfect time to fawn needlessly over such details about the boy!

“Y/N, I’m really happy that you’re grateful for that, but that’s my job. If I’m going to be your proud boyfriend one day, then I have to work hard for it unconditionally! Why wouldn’t I take care of the girl whom I love with all my heart?”

Beomgyu was being way too corny now (but you could say that you secretly loved it)! At the same time, what the hell was wrong with you? Why did everything inside unexpectedly become too warm once you comprehended what he said? Hearing that made all of your confidence just disappear into thin air, and you opted to look somewhere else beside his sweet, honeyed eyes.

“Let me take care of you, okay? You’re so precious that I’m willing to do anything for you, and you should know that the best.”

You’re melting. Oh my goodness, you were absolutely melting as you watched him inch closer to you with that same charming, boyish grin on his face.

Gently, he then proceeded to press a sweet kiss upon your forehead, one that you burning up even more from the inside. As much as the amount of times he did that, you still weren’t able to get used to them. Doing those cheesy things had an effect on you- he had to know how much they were killing you softly even if you tried your best not to show it.

What caught your eye was the way he winked at you straight after which was pretty much impossible to ignore, waving a goodbye while hopping on his toes to his first class.

“I’ll see you later, yeah? Call or text me whenever you want, and I swear I’ll be right there beside you as promised!”

You pressed a hand against your pounding chest, knowing you were going to think about that forehead kiss all day. There was no doubt anybody could hear it from a mile away.

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Arriving to lunch a bit early without Beomgyu accompanying you due to “personal reasons” as he called it, you were nonetheless surprised to see that neither Taehyun or Kai was there. It was silent considering the fact that many people hadn’t sat down, monkeying out in the hallways as if that was any better to do. You searched around a little, sighing in relief that you weren’t alone in the quite empty, gigantic room. The only person sitting there over at your usual table was Yeonjun, although he looked a bit bitter towards you when you took a seat.

“Oh hi Jun,” you shot him a shy smile, losing all confidence you had once his eyebrows furrowed. He must’ve been mad at you or something which you hoped not since he was such a marvelous person to be friends with, plus you’d never seen that grim expression on him before. Hopefully it wasn’t anything too personal, right?

“Hi, Y-N,” shooting you a dirty look, he enunciated every syllable of your name while you giggled nervously. He glowered at you behind those wondrous eyelashes, yet at the same time you couldn’t help but feel a great pressure being lifted from your shoulders. So he wasn’t mad! From the tone of his voice, you were glad to know that he was being playful and not actually mad at you like you’d originally thought.

Going along with his game, you curled your lips into a frown, “why are you mad at me?”

He didn’t respond, gazing down at his oh so interesting food instead. It was difficult with you prodding around with multiple questions and staring at him like your life depended on it, but that only got him more determined. With all his effort, he did his best not to break out into a smile until he heard you say something along the lines of him looking like an adorable duckling whenever he got mad.

“Fine, fine! I’m not actually angry, I just wanted to get back at you!”

You both burst into laughter once he started to smile again, and you raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Get back at me? But for what? If I remember correctly, I hadn’t done anything bad intentionally towards you!”

The boy shook his head jokingly as he snickered, “I’m just mad at you for taking a break without me knowing! I could’ve helped you a little since we’re friends.”

Although it was 100% true as you didn’t give him a notice before, you rolled your eyes at his harsh, yet caring accusation. “Sorry, dude! But I just don’t want to bother you with all these assignments we’ve been getting...?”

A mellow hush settled between you as soon as you both finished laughing, and he cleared his throat. “In all seriousness though,” he inquired, “you must be wondering about Soobin, right?”

It was like he read the back of your mind. Your eyes immediately widened, his words taking you by surprise. You weren’t expecting Yeonjun to say anything about him in all honesty. It’d been a while since you thought of him but once doing so, the flame of guilt in you ignited, burning your throat while your mind was cowering with what to say.

He seemed to know that you were practically speechless in front of him, his lips quickly tightening into a slightly disappointed yet hopeless line.

“Soobin told me all about what happened a few weeks ago. He told me not to confront you since he wouldn’t want anyone to bother you, but I just can’t sit still because I’m really confused. If it’s not too much to ask, could you tell me what changed your mind on dating Soobin? You two are so whipped for each other!”

Sighing, you knew deep down that he was right. But what could you say when that was before?

“Jun, I was whipped for him until Beomgyu came along. I’m not sure how it happened, but slowly I think I got tired of my love not being returned and instead looked to Beomgyu who was caring for me. Eventually he did hurt me and I hated him for the time being, but everything else- to his actions, to his words told me that he really loved me instead.” You hoped that would do the trick to appease his worries, but he only pouted his lips even more.

“But Y/NNN,” he whined, “don’t you still like Soobin? You two are meant to be... as much as Beomgyu’s my friend, it’s always been you and Soobin!”

Clunk!

The loud clatter of the lunch tray being set on the table reminded you that you weren’t the only ones in the room. It was Taehyun and Kai, grinning from ear to ear in your direction to which you smiled back, but most importantly Yeonjun also had to realize your side of the story as well. You were going to reply a few seconds later until a familiar, dreamy scent caught your nose- the one that always instantly made you feel safe. Beomgyu.

Once he smiled at you, that same exact one he had put on when the two of you kissed that prom night, you could feel all the blood in your heart vividly start to thump. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting lost in his eyes, those beautiful eyes that made you feel things whenever you looked at them. To his lips then which were almost like fragrant roses, you noticed as weird thoughts rumbled in your head over and over again. Since when had he become completely alluring? This spell on you, everything in sight was so gorgeous but the only thing that made you feel sweet, strong butterflies was simply him.

Maybe later you could tell the necessary information to who was waiting in curiosity... your eyes just wouldn’t allow you to look away at the boy who took all your breath away.

Yeonjun scoffed at the interaction, shoving spoonfuls of his food into his mouth instead of commenting at how this was a bit too selfish. Sheepishly you snapped out from your trance, awkwardly waving a hello back to Beomgyu after a few moments of staring at him.

Was this what people meant when they mentioned about the expression ‘La Vie En Rose?’ In short, everything was so beautiful.

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“Gyu! Have you talked to Soobin today? I heard from Yeonjun a while ago that he isn’t doing well after um, what happened.” You skipped towards the barren willow tree of the school, doing your best to put on one the most genuine smiles you could muster for the boy who had been waiting its arrival for the longest time. Actually, you noticed you’d been happier once Beomgyu was around but you weren’t going to say it. If you took whatever this feeling was- whether romantic or platonic, you couldn’t tell Beomgyu because Soobin would absolutely be crushed to see you together. It’d be best in your opinion to keep your mouth shut.

Instead of what you expected, his eyes shot daggers at the ground, rocking back and forth on the heels of his platform shoes.

“This again? Y/N, he’s doing fine, trust me.” Beomgyu didn’t spare even one glance at you, and you sighed at his lack of empathy. He’d always been like this whenever you asked about Soobin and even if you tried to prod in, he wouldn’t say anything much. This was going to be even harder than you thought if you were going to get some factual information through him. That didn’t mean you gave up though.

Tapping his right shoulder, you finally managed to grab his attention when he looked up directly at you with a blank face. You flinched at his disinterested expression, feeling the chills crawl up your spine. Looks like annoying him physically was the best way to do it, for he stared at you with empty, soulless eyes. Sheepish because of this “stranger” in front of you, you stepped closer to him albeit a bit hesitantly. “Beomgyu, I’m just worried for him! Of all people, you should know that!”

“Know that? Know that?” He loudly scoffed at your words immediately, throwing his head up at the grey sky while tsking several times. His tongue touched the insides of his mouth, roaming around to flatten against his inner cheek. “I know, Y/N! I know! You’ve told me so many times that you’re worried for Soobin, but can’t you see?! He’s doing just fine, and you’re worrying about him nonstop when all you have to do is let go and trust him!”

In a way to protect yourself, you got defensive.

“How can I do that? You don’t know anything at all!”

He ran his fingers through his hair, rational actions broken as he didn’t know how to express his endless frustration. His fists clenched from what you saw in the corner of your eye, struggling to keep in his anger from what you said. You, on the other hand, kept going, not acknowledging the fact that you were ruining him by the second.

“I literally broke his heart!”

The boy with raven hair became tense in every second that passed, his posture stiffening once that phrase passed your lips. “By doing what?! You haven’t told me the reason why you two have been like this for weeks,” Beomgyu exasperatedly gasped, “What did you talk about back there when he asked you to come with him? What’s so wrong about me knowing about what you said?”

“He likes me! But I said I didn’t feel the same way because I think I like someone else that definitely... definitely isn’t you!” Your brain was making up its own lies just to save itself from the embarrassment at that point. Words you never thought of spitting out came out harshly and in a way which not only damaged Beomgyu, but you as well. “You- you, I’ve never liked you at all! Just give up on me already if you think I’m not worth it!

“I hate you, Beomgyu! You’re just going to hurt me again!”

The world became silent for a while, and time seemed to stop.

Opening your strained eyes for a moment, you looked back to see a pair that looked similar to Soobin’s when you told him you didn’t like him back anymore. He looked broken, lost in time as his mind replayed over and over what you said to him. Especially that one phrase he never imagined you to say.  

“S-so all of those moments meant nothing to you? That kiss back at prom, the way you became jealous when I talked to Sunhye during the time we were apart, when you asked- no, said wanted me to be right beside you forever...?” His voice broke at the last part, trying to contain the torture that you put him through just by your words.

“Beomgyu, wait, please let me explain,” you tried, reaching out a hopeless hand to calm him down. Trembling, he shook his head back and forth rapidly, water gathering up in his eyes as his drowning sobs tore both your worlds apart.

“That can’t be the truth. You said you forgave me, you said I had a chance of loving you, you said you wanted to be lovers too! Were those all lies? Because I’m not sure, your eyes tell me all and it’s telling me that I’m the only one crazy for you,” he pulled both of your hands together desperately, quivering hopelessly as he held on to them as best he could.

He was trying so hard to love you... couldn’t you see that?

The boy gazed dejectedly into your face, searching for any emotion. It was the same sadness he saw in your face that prom night, but he wasn’t able to tell if it was guilt or because he snapped back into the harsh reality. And slowly, he realized that all of his tries, all of his love, the heart he pained to give just wasn’t good enough.

“Come on, princess... You know how I feel. Just like him, I can’t keep waiting and waiting for you to make up your mind. I know we haven’t known each other for so long, but I’ve tried so hard to make you happy. I hurt myself to make you smile. I tried to act like I was okay after every single time you said something about Soobin, but it just wasn’t enough. I’ve tried so hard to love someone who obviously still loves someone else, but what you’ve said proves everything,” a tear slid down his cheek but he made no effort to try and wipe it away.

It pained you to see him become weak in front of you, the boy no longer hiding his hurt that was caused all because of you.

You didn’t answer, words completely burning up in your throat as he went on, voice teetering with every word he softly spoke.

“I know I’m being selfish here, Y/N, but it’s so hard. I think I’m getting tired of all this arguing and lying... What good will it do if you can’t even say you love me back?” With every sniffle and tear he let out, you felt your heart crumble and crash onto the hard ground. Guilt was threatening to swallow you up as you stood there, holding his broken heart in your hands while he tried to smile as strong as he could in front of you.

Every ounce of hope in him disintegrated as minutes passed, your cowardly eyes gradually moving from him to the ground. Why was he even surprised at this point? All along this was the answer- you still loved Soobin with all you had to offer; he should’ve realized it before breaking himself in the first place. Anybody could’ve told him that he was a fool in love, but maybe... just maybe he could hear you say that you loved him at least once. Was that too much to ask? And still he stood in front of you, waiting and waiting and waiting to hear that it wasn’t true- that you really did love him.

There was no point in trying to fight for this anymore if you weren’t going to be truthful to both yourself and him. He seemed to grasp this fact now. It is you and it was always you, but perhaps you just weren’t right for each other. Wasn’t this doomed in the first place though? Knowing how he felt those butterflies when you like Soobin... perhaps all of this wasn’t meant to be.

Beomgyu chuckled in a sense of sorrow, shaking his head as the impending, grey clouds above gathered around in a band of dread.

“I’ll get going now. I don’t think I’ll be able to take you home today, so I hope you understand.”

He started on his feet, walking towards the entrance that loomed over you who was finally alone. Every part of you was shouting at your brain to hurry up and tell him. Your heart was telling you to just go, not stand there like a fool as you watched him walk away from you again. Wanting so desperately to hold him as you apologized over and over again, wanting so desperately to kiss his forehead and ask him to forgive you even if it took a million of times, wanting so desperately to feel his lips melt you when he accepted it... the air in your lungs evaporated, reminding you that you needed to go out there because he was the only one who could make you breathe normally. Choi Beomgyu is still the one you love after all this time, and you need to start sprinting with everything you have in order to have your happy ending. But what right did you have when you broke two hearts anyway?

The rain started again, yet this time you didn’t have your most favorite boy in the world to save you.

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You paced through the hallways, completely drenched in your school uniform. All of the words he said kept repeating through your head. What was wrong with you? For you to feel so hopeless in this situation when it was all your doing? Are you that much of a terrible person? He promised you so many things, to make you happy, to make you genuinely smile like the first time he asked to be your friend, to give you all the love left in his heart even if it ran out. And yet, you were still hesitating on your own faults, crunching those promises as if they meant nothing to you- at least that’s what the boy you loved most assumed.

For certain you had nothing to do with Beomgyu and he had nothing to do with you anymore. As long as you two would be alright apart- though it was the complete opposite for you- then it’d be okay because at least he was happy. But why? Why did it have to sting you so bad like this?

“Y/n?! Literally, what is wrong with you?” Straightaway the voice made you grunt, unconsciously rolling your eyes as soon as you heard it. What did she want this time?

“Are you that pathetic to go through the school like that?!” Well, who else could it be other than that desperate Sunhye? She laughed at your expense while you controlled yourself not to snap at her. Her neck looked so deliciously bendable, it was a shame that you couldn’t mold it or else you’d be expelled from school at the very least. As always, she knew how to press your buttons and not to mention, become completely frustrated with yourself because it was quite certainly the truth.

“Just move along. I can’t deal with your shit today, and I want to go home before anything else, “you quietly muttered so much so that it could be impossible to hear you. That offended snarl on her face meant otherwise.

“I was actually searching the whole school to find you, Y/N. I hate you and all, but I’m just really confused when you like Soobin and still rejected him after he confessed.”

Compared to earlier, you could see her face morph into a concerned expression, voice getting softer with every word she spoke. You found it funny that now she gets involved, instead of needing to act concerned for her own sake. You sighed, shaking your head at her.

So she heard about it, huh...

“That isn’t your business, so I’m sorry. We aren’t friends anymore, you have no right to enter my private life again after what you did to me.” A fool could only assume a girl like her would leave them alone, however that wasn’t the case. You knew you weren’t one to be talking since you got the hand of revenge, although she could just piss off and that would definitely help you. You guessed that only made her angrier, for her stature became stiff with reluctance as she visibly gritted her teeth in frustration.

“And you even saw he kissed me! Didn’t that make you jealous? Didn’t my plan work?” The word plan caught your ear, and you cocked your head to the side. What was she talking about? She had a plan- which you assumed to break you and Soobin apart when you were friends- this whole time? You should’ve known she’d be up one night concocting the plan of your demise.

She nodded her head at your confusion, acting as if she was all high and mighty for doing so, “yes I did have a plan if that’s what you’re thinking. But you know me, I’m not going to make this easy especially for you. Just tell me why you aren’t together and maybe I’ll tell you about it.”

There was exactly nothing else to say between the two of you. If she had a plan, so be it. What was the point if your world already crashed upon your shoulders?

“I don’t care about your plan,” you spat out. “Leave me alone, Sunhye. I’m so tired.”

Instead she kept prodding into your head like the annoying, droning mosquito she is.

“Could it possibly be about Beomgyu? Poor little dirty mutt, you know he’s only going to leave you in the end like before and you’re still going back to him. Haven’t you been taught that already?”

“Don’t say things like that! You don’t know him, how could you possibly think that?!”

She shook her head, a smug glint in her eyes as she drew closer to you in tiny steps. “Are you kidding? This plan that I’m talking about, you do know that Beomgyu was part of it right? Matter of fact, he was one of the key subjects that I used in order to perfect everything.”

“What do you mean?” Discombobulation rushed through your system as you followed her eyes to your shaking hands once the realization hit you. Of course there was a possibility she could be lying, but you knew better than that. You easily couldn’t forget how you and Beomgyu literally hated each other before, but now...  it wasn’t so long since you reconciled. But he wouldn’t do that, right?

“He wouldn’t do that to me, he said he loved me,” you gasped out, the breath in your lungs turning into dust the moment she said that.

“Well hate to break it to you, but once you proved you were a terrible person by giving away his hoodie to me that one day, he said he hated you a lot. To this day, I’m sure he was lying to me- the look in his eyes said it all. We made up a plan to make your life miserable by crushing your love with Bin, the only boy you ever loved your whole entire life. Most of it was finished, with almost all of the school population hating you. Plus, your friendship or your soon to be relationship with Soobin was basically crumbling since the time for you to confess could’ve been pretty soon. That isn’t the point, although I must say that I made sure I kissed him so you’d be jealous and come out clean. I just wasn’t expecting him to say he liked you back first before Beomgyu ruined everything with his damn feelings.”

“Yes, and that was in the past,” you countered.

She laughed at how naive you were, shrugging her shoulders like she knew something you didn’t. “Yes, it was. And it’s hard to believe that you hurt him even if he told you he loved you so many times. Tell me, Y/N, you never really did love Beomgyu, right?”

If your morals weren’t holding you back, you’d for sure already charged at her already. Gosh, how many toxic traits must she have and why didn’t you realize them earlier?!

“No, you’re wrong! I loved him! I still do! Stop making assumptions when you don’t know anything about us!” It was so hard to contain yourself in slapping her silly, but you had to remain calm. This isn’t what Beomgyu would like you to do even if a serious argument was in the way of both of you.

“I don’t know anything? You two danced while I kissed Soobin. How do you think I’ll ever forget that? You’re such a whore, you really can’t go a day without playing with other peoples’ feelings.

“What? You can’t speak anymore?! So I was right!

“You don’t deserve Soobin either. And since you’ve just declared you don’t love Beomgyu at all, I think I’ve just found a new target.”

That’s it. You’ve had enough.

“Will you shut your mouth, you desperate slut?! You can’t expect any of them to love you at all when you act like this! If you really wanted to love Beomgyu in the first place, then you would have to get through me first!”

“Why, you-” she threw her hands towards you, hoping to land a hit first until something dark red like dried up blood caught your eye. What in the world could that be? You gripped her arm before she could pull away, the wonder holding you captive in your spot as you took a good look at what she was hiding under that fabric. Her sleeve slipped, unveiling multiple gashes of bruised, unhealed skin as if someone forcefully clawed its way through the layers with a sharp object.

Lee Sunhye... the one you hated so much for hurting you, the one you thought was perfectly happy in damaging her relationships with others, the one you despised to the ends of this earth- was secretly hurting herself?

She retracted her arm the second you noticed it, wrapping her wrist with a trembling hand.

And without you realizing...

“You didn’t see that... please, tell me you didn’t see what needed to be hidden!”

Without you thinking that the sensitive girl trapped inside of her was actually hurt all this time...

“Sunhye? You’re cutting?”

Without you ever asking about her day when things got tough on her...

“Wait, no I’m not! Your eyes were playing tricks on you, there-” you grabbed her wrist, flinging her towards you as you checked the fresh scars on her wrist. Scanning profusely at what she did to herself, you slowly let go to watch her hide her face in her hands with embarrassment. Was this the reason why she had worn long sleeved shirts most of the time even if she hated them?

You were hurting her yourself without even realizing it, failing to open your eyes to see what you’ve done. This must’ve been one of the ways she coped through her suffering, inflicting terrible cuts in order to make the pain go away.

“Sunhye, I’m so sorry... I had no clue you were going through this, I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t help the tears that welled around her tired eyes, falling down one by one as she stared at the sympathetic expression that belonged to her best friend from before. You reached out to her, and she stepped away hesitantly, afraid that she would be hurt again. The girl did her best to appear strong in front of you, but those vulnerable eyes and teetering voice gave it all away.

“Don’t be silly, Y/N! Don’t think like that, it’s just marker that my friend used to draw on me during class,” she frantically scrambled, backing away as you inched closer to her by the second.

“Sunhye, you’re cutting, why didn’t you tell someone?”

Her voice wobbled, running back and forth from the lie and the truth. “Me? I’m not cutting, I just told you! I’m happy, only someone pathetic enough would cut!”

Even the look on her face told you enough and that she knew deep inside you weren’t able to believe that.

Instead of what she expected- like for you to make fun of her, you pulled her into your arms, holding her tightly despite her wandering hands that slammed against your back in a weak manner to scare you away.

“You’re going to spread rumors about me, aren’t you? You’re going to tell everyone that I’m not perfect.

“You’re going to make sure everyone hates me after this. You’re going to show everyone I’m the worst like you always unintentionally have when we used to be friends.

“You’re going to make sure I end up all alone like you did to me with Soobin.”

Gradually the hits became weaker, and you knew right then and there that she never had the heart to hurt you in the first place if the both of you never experienced this brawl. Yes, you should’ve looked at her side before taking revenge, but perhaps this is a sign to look towards the present and future at the very least.

Her agonizing accusations stung, letting you sigh as you felt her fall into your embrace. It’s been so long since you’ve been closer to her like this that it felt strange, almost alien-like.

“I promise I’ll fix everything. We don’t have to be friends, but I’ll make sure to be here for you whenever you need it,” you reassured, holding her in your arms while she sobbed as hard as she could. It felt so nice to finally let someone know about her attempts to hurt herself where she succeeded, but she was so afraid you weren’t going to keep your promise. After all, how could she trust herself too when she was the one that ruined your friendship?

“I’m so sorry, Y/N... I’m so sorry for what I did.”

“It’s okay,” you cooed. “It’s going to be okay.”

She didn’t know that you were right. You were going to do everything you could to fix everything.

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“Hey, Y/N are you okay? You don’t look too good.” Snapping out of your trance, you looked to see Taehyun and Kai stroll down from the science room towards your direction and in front of you to which they gazed worriedly.

Were you okay? No of course not, you possibly couldn’t be.

But should you lie? Or should you tell the truth?

Either of them wouldn’t work out. You couldn’t say what you wanted to say. Your throat felt too tight- you really couldn’t say anything about how you were feeling because all this guilt built up from inside of you was threatening to explode.

When you didn’t respond, both of the boys glanced at each other, content expressions turning into puzzled ones. When had the atmosphere become so thick with awkwardness? Taehyun was about to speak up when another voice interrupted him. “Are you looking for Beomgyu? I saw him leave the school without you, so I was confused,” Kai chirped in, a sheepish smile on his face.

There was no point in hiding it anymore.

You sniffled wantonly, shutting your eyes shut from the burning in your chest. It made you want to throw up from how much it hurt. You laid a hand over it, clenching your fists when it only became stronger in response. “No, actually. I-I’m not fine. I just made a terrible mistake that hurt Beomgyu and I... I don’t know what to do.”

It’s as if they knew about this, and Taehyun groaned at the miscommunication without surprise. He ran his hands over his face in disappointment while Kai mirrored the same action. “Y/N, that means he’s hesitating as well! You need to hurry up and do something in order for both of you to be happy!”

“There was nothing I could do about it. I hurt him and that’s the worst thing I could do to someone who’s only been so caring about me this whole time,” you muttered under your breath as you hid your face in between your fingers. Pathetic enough, you did your best not to break out in tears in front of the younger ones despite feeling the tense air in your lungs become less and less.

Taehyun sighed at this, shaking his head in distaste. “You know, you shouldn’t look at things in the past anymore. Although it’s hard, you need to start looking towards the present and future in order for things to become better.”

“But you don’t understand! After what I’ve done to Beomgyu, he would hate me too like Soobin...”

The two of them exchanged weird looks, taking turns to look down at the floor as if it was much more interesting than what they had to say. So it was all about Beomgyu again, huh? To be honest, they weren’t surprised.

Evidently, Taehyun had enough of this and the anger bottled up inside from this situation of only watching had burst. He charged towards you, shaking your shoulders as his knuckles turned white from gripping too hard. “Why are you so hesitant, Y/N? Whoever you like, you know you can’t give up! If you don’t want to lose Beomgyu the same way you’ve done with Soobin, then tell him before it’s too late!”

You stiffened in your spot, shoes planted on the floor- what was he talking about?

“Too late...? I haven’t...” You were at a loss for words, eyes finally opening after all this time. They subtly grinned at you, taking in the fact that their advice was doing well for the first time. Taehyun and Kai were right, you shouldn’t keep him waiting when in the future, you could lose him eventually because of your hesitation!

“I- I love-” Kai cut off your words, pushing you towards the entrance of the school with a strong shove, “it doesn’t matter! Just go!”

You then saw the same figure who you’d been hoping for this whole entire time before he darted from your sight, sprinting away as you screamed for him to come back.

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“Beomgyu, wait! Come back, please!”

The door loudly shut behind you as you frantically ran, holding your breath as your eyes darted back and forth between his retreating figure and your shoes which could slip at any moment. The creak of the gate echoed behind you in crooked violin whines, sending chills up your back to finally realize you were the one chasing him after all this time. In a dazzling moment, all your chances were taken forcefully from your head and you stared cautiously at the sidewalk whose cracks filled up with pouring water.

Knowing how difficult it was to perform the action of sprinting on the wet ground, it was no doubt that you would most likely fall onto the rough concrete which would probably scratch your legs out til they bled. But honestly, did you really care? No, not enough, obviously.

Luminous lights from the cars blinded your eyes as you sprinted on the sidewalk for him, making you retract slightly at how much brighter they were than the golden sun from last summer. That cheery, joyous summer when you had your first set up date with... him. Had it really been that long since you were happy together? Just when you were starting to have smiles with him again, and everything was ripped away. But whose fault is that? Your hands swiftly covered your stinging eyes, but this was such a disadvantage that prohibited you from achieving your favorite dream.

The person who mattered most was Beomgyu. And he was right in front of you, running from someone who hurt him. You knew right then and there that it wasn’t right to keep chasing him after what you’ve said, but at least you were trying as hard as you could! It didn’t matter if you accidentally fell or hurt yourself as you ran trying to get to him because you’d do anything just to explain to him that you were wrong! This was your doing- you had a chance to make everything right, and you weren’t going to take that chance for granted ever again.

“Ahhh!”

Speaking too soon has its effects, and you slipped to the ground while groaning in pain. It was too much for you to handle this time. The rough concrete scathed your legs, creating a terrible, ripped hole in your knee high white socks you weren’t sure you could wear again. Pain rushed over you in seconds, white flashing running through your clawed skin to the rest of your nerves. The street pavement scraped long stripes of red against your thighs and every second of slipping on top of it was pure torture to you. It blazed so much that it felt like sharp claws dug into you with every scratch that came. Your legs jolted with an overwhelming, flashing agony and you let out a moan of misery, quickly glancing at the dripping, crimson blood that ensued with them.

“Ow...”

However the ache in your chest caused more pain than anything else you could’ve ever imagined, burning horribly as it heaved up and down with several, shallow breaths. Your mind was in reels trying to make up a solution for your slip up. You wanted to keep going; you really wanted to, but your body just wouldn’t listen! This was the last thing you could resort to, to at least explain that you were in the wrong. Otherwise he’d never talk to you again and going through that for the nth time would cause irreparable damage to your being.

This was all because of you, you had to keep reminding yourself. He left you because of what you said to him, and he never did anything like that before. It hurt more than anything to see the boy you loved whose heart that used to be filled with joy, broken. You couldn’t be surprised anymore at your words, but the taste of torture lingered on the tip of your tongue.

All of your actions, all of it building up in terms to say I love you to him - the only words you’ve truly needed to say to him from the beginning- were left on the street, practically being run over by busy vehicles while you lied there pathetically on the sidewalk.

You desperately reached your hand out to where you had last seen him running, your vision failing you as you looked left and right for any sign on him. He would never leave you like this, would he? And you knew you were simply deluding yourself in this situation that all occurred because of you, but maybe... just maybe he would show up like he always did.

But he wasn’t there and you were left alone just like in the beginning.

You felt glistening tears well up in your eyes as the rain boomed heavily all around you. The lights of the cars soon carried away, leaving you all in the darkness where you slowly felt the hope building in your heart to crash and deteriorate every second. In a moment your reached out hand was abandoned by you too, falling to the ground where the noir shadows of the dreary clouds covered your ashamed face.

“It’s too late now. I can’t tell you what I wanted to say.

“And I’m sorry for not being better, but I just didn’t know how to say it.

“Beomgyu, I... I love you.”

You failed.

Pit!

Pat!

“You idiot, you’re bleeding now.”

Suddenly you felt the cover of an umbrella envelope overhead, protecting you from all the heavy rain that poured in every direction. You dare didn’t look up from your spot, too scared to think he was really there. That one and only soothing voice belonged to Beomgyu, however at the same time you didn’t want to believe it. Your brain must be playing tricks on you after an event as such.

“Come on, let’s get up now. You know that you really do look like a fool after falling like that.”

The only things you could hear was his chuckles, an exact replica of how he would laugh at you whenever you did something stupid. Great, now this just signaled off the bat that you were starting to miss him even more.

“Princess, I promise you that it’s me,” the voice kept encouraging you. You covered your ears with trembling hands, afraid that all of this wasn’t real. “And I’m not mad at you, so please just look at me.”

The shuffling of his clothes from beside you made you steal a quick glance towards the drenched boy, only to gasp with shock that he was really there. He’d been kneeling for a while now, the evidence clear as day when you looked at the wet marks on his pants. You frowned, wanting to hide yourself from him again. How long had it been since he arrived? You didn’t like it at all when he saw you like this, but some part of you believed that this would only prove for the better.

He then pulled you up, letting you cling onto him since your legs were shaking with fragility. You did your best to stand up yourself by pushing him away, too embarrassed to let him hold you for the meantime. Although you were successful for a second or two, the intent gaze in his eyes made you fall on top of him again- this time on his chest where you shied away.

You opted to glance up at him as much as he staring at you, tears welling up in your eyes while you tried to tell him everything simultaneously.

“How can you not be mad at me? Beomgyu, I know it must be too late to say I’m sorry but...

“You mean the world to me and I need you more than anyone I’ve ever wanted. I feel incomplete without you and not having you beside me makes me want to disappear. I don’t know why I haven’t realized these feelings long ago and I’m a terrible person for not doing so, but please... You have no clue how much you mean to me and losing you, the only boy who’s made me feel like this would mean inevitable loss.

“Hey, look... there’s no need to-”

“I’m too young to really grasp what love is, but I know you’ve made me so happy. You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been. I don’t think words will be enough to say how thankful I am to you, really. It’s not fair to you that I haven’t been doing the same thing, but now I’m going to tell you what’s straight from my heart.”

“Y/N, give me a sec-”

“and that’s everything. From your smile that’s been making me crazy, to your voice which calms me down whenever I hear it and especially you who makes me feel so comfortable being myself. I know it sounds incredibly cheesy but I’m absolutely crazy for you and after all this time with no doubt, you’re still the one that I think of when I lie awake in bed every night. I think about you way too much for my own good but I find it endearing how much I’m completely enamored by you. See? Look how I can’t do anything or be myself without you!”

The expression in his face told you he wasn’t having it and you crumbled under his intimidating stare with hooded eyes. He furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms when you clearly had much more to say. The flame burning in you vanished little by little with every second he maintained eye contact as you tightly clenched your sweating fists.

“I didn’t want to say it now when the world is currently against me, but I just need to tell you that I-” he easily shut you up a moment later, pressing his index finger against your mouth while you blubbered with several words neither of you could understand. He grinned a little bit at this somewhat innocence, but you weren’t satisfied with his reaction at all. Did he not believe you this time? Was it not enough? You were aching to prove more but didn’t know how!

“Can you calm down for a second, princess?! I kno-”

“Then will this be enough?”

You pressed your lips against him in an instant, arms wrapping around and over his neck as you pulled him down to meet you. Your eyes automatically closed, drowned in endearment while Beomgyu’s opened wide, too stunned to focus on what was happening.

The boy immediately dropped the black umbrella against the flooding ground, letting the breezing wind carry it away when he finally realized his dreams were at last happening. The sound made an almost discreet plop, but it was suffice to say that you didn’t give one crap about it. You just melted into the kiss all the more when he responded back, falling against his chest while his fingers danced over your waist as if he was going to lose you any moment. You swore you could feel your heart swell with love the moment he smiled against your lips, somehow managing to pull you closer while you sighed in relief.

Did this mean that he was yours and you were his now?

Beomgyu stared at you with hooded eyes when he backed away, breathless and too stunned to regain focus of what was happening. When you reluctantly pulled away too, you noticed you were were panting and trying to restore breath through shallow intakes of air. The looks you sent each other were completely endearing and you buried your face in his chest all the more while he couldn’t help but contain the laughter from inside. Judging by how much serotonin his adorable giggles were giving you, you could tell that he still felt the same way in and out, seeing pink all over which only signified a one true love.

He then broke the silence, swiping his thumb a few times over your lips. "You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he admitted, cupping your cheek while you softened into his warm touch. Whenever you were with him, your heart bloomed into a pretty flower.

Relishing in the red roses that bloomed all around you two, you gently interlocked his fingers with his to which he instantly held back. This wasn’t a Wattpad fanfic or a drama but you felt as if you were the happiest girl in the world. Having him right beside you, being able to tell him how much you loved him because you finally realized you weren’t being true to yourself this whole time was something you never expected, but one thing you deserved. In order to have a happy ending, you had to keep going and not give up in the end even when things got tough because the inevitable promises of living would reward you in the end. You guessed that you had gotten it now because the love of your life was right before you, and you could finally look at him with love in your eyes.

“I just chased after you to say I love you,” you breathlessly giggled, pulling him closer to your body which was shaking with euphoria.

The erupting cheers from beside the gate made you turn and you looked at each and every single one of your friends cheering for the both of you. Yeonjun was excitingly screaming with joy while Taehyun and Kai jumped up and down together, tightly linking hands since their plan of getting you together had at last worked. The sudden support overwhelmed your senses when you glanced to see who was there as well. Right beside them was Soobin who was shooting you a genuine smile as tears filled up his chocolate, brown eyes. You grinned at him back, just in time to see Sunhye who was also clapping for the two of you.

Beomgyu quickly turned your attention back to him, kissing your cheek delicately as he whispered for only you to hear:

“I love you too.”

٩๑۶⁎⁍̴̆⁎ ๑)｡ﾟ´`ﾟ٩๑۶⁎⁍̴̆⁎ ๑)｡ﾟ´`ﾟ٩๑۶⁎⁍̴̆⁎ ๑)｡ﾟ

Posted: 3/7/21- 12:24am

(Y’all. Omg. I’m literally shaking as I write this. Like... I can’t believe it. Right off the bat, I feel as if I’m going to miss this series so much. I know it was all over the place since I started writing a year ago and I want to apologize sincerely for every mistake I’ve forgotten or clearly remember or for the cringy moments along the way too. I can’t say much, for I’m speechless right now. It was so much fun to write a series and to be completely honest with you, I never expected it to turn out this way. At first I really wanted to an ending with Soobin and another part with Beomgyu, but I guess this is how things turned out(?) I wanted to see who my readers were cheering for and I wanted to crush or lift their hearts through the ending. My poor soobinnie bby though :cc i promise i love you so so so much and i’ll make it up to you one day~~ And beomgyu bby how dare you steal my heart like this. ANYWAY NOT THE POINT !! thanks to everyone who read this mess and enjoyed it ! I’m so flattered to even get a note for this and finishing this was one of the most satisfying things I’d ever done in this lifetime. Like... finally. I don’t have to stress about writing another part to this when I know some people are waiting. And those people are really the best !! (especially teddy bear anon hehe >3<) I just... I don’t really know what else to say other than i’m so happy yet so sad at how i finally completed this. it’s a long list of words but whoever read this.. i love you so much !! ++ again, here’s just a special thanks to everyone who read. i love you so much and i hope that if i ever write a series ever again, you’ll be the first ones to read it <33 thank you for showing my series some love. i’ll never be able to repay you for such kindness my pink rats 🥺🥺🥺💗💖 goodbye, inevitable promises. )

Tags:

[blush-and-books]

Juke 48 fluff please...

Prompt #48: “I told you to take care of yourself.”

Ksjahdsf High School AU inspired by the fact that my generation has been so crushed by the pressures of our education system that we would always show up to school with colds and strep and literally anything because we refused to miss school. Double inspired by the morning I threw up at 3AM and had a cold but literally went downstairs and monologued to my mom that I had to go to school bc I had two quizzes that would have been hell to make up and I would have had major anxiety if I missed anything. And she let me go. Triple inspired by the fact that pre-COVID I would get sick routinely 4 times across Oct, Nov and Dec because my peers would also show up sick. So, yeah. Here’s to the american education system 

Luke knows that something is off with his best friend when she finally approaches her locker that Wednesday morning, where he had been anxiously bouncing on the balls of his feet waiting for her.

Where she is usually like sunshine to him, glowing brighter than the California sunrise -- a lyric in the song he was planning to show her, but would never admit was inspired by her as well -- she arrives with the pale glow of the moon instead. Julie’s eyes are half-open, and her usually bouncy curls have been pulled back and up unto a messy bun. 

He hasn’t seen her like this since-

“Jules,” he mumbles, half to himself and half to her when she finally looks up and notices him. Instantaneously, he takes an energetic step towards her, letting his hands rest on her upper arms. “Are you sick? Again?”

As if she doesn’t want to hear it, not again, her bottom lip juts out in a pout that is only seen on a miserable Julie Molina before she brushes past him to her locker. Deeply concerned, Luke trails after her. 

“Julie, hey,” he attempts, but she won’t look up at him. There’s a shame in her face while she gets her calculus textbook from her locker, and it’s then that Luke notices the thermos she’s clutching in her left hand. “Let me take this stuff. Drink your tea. Don’t try and talk, I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

She shakes her head, it’s not his fault, she’s the idiot showing up to school sick, but she couldn’t miss today. She just couldn’t. 

Without putting up a fight, she lets him take her backpack and textbook from her possession while she unscrews the lid of her thermos and chugs two big gulps of tea. Temporary relief is brought to her throat, but it doesn’t last long. 

“I-” She attempts, but Luke shoots her a glare and wags a finger at her. Ignoring him, she powers on. “I have a calc test and a history quiz and an English debate.”

“You can make those up.” “But do I want to? Do I want to miss a whole day of notes and work and assignments because I have a runny nose?”

(And a sore throat, obviously. And a headache. She also woke up right before her alarm to throw up, but she hasn’t felt the urge to do that again since. You get the picture though.)

“Jules, I mean this in the best way possible, but you look like there’s a lot more than a runny nose happening here. A runny nose was two weeks ago. This looks like your whole body aches.”

(Fair assessment. It does.)

She lifts her thermos to her lips once again to soothe the throbbing that resulted from her excuses, feeling her stomach twirl in a way that she can’t tell is another bout of nausea or just Luke making her painfully fall more in love with him. 

He, on the other hand, is one step away from hauling her over his shoulder and driving her home himself. He doesn’t know what to do. Julie’s stressed, and the stress has made her vulnerable to colds for the past couple of months, and this is the third time he’s seen her sick. No matter what, she shows up to school -- freshman year, she stayed home sick with the stomach flu, and had a panic attack in the bathroom on the day that she came back. 

He knows because he was in her music class that year. Her best friend, Flynn, had rushed into the music room to explain to their teacher, and he’ll never forget it. 

Coincidentally, it was two months ago, with Julie’s first ceremonious cold of the year, that Luke officially realized that he was in love with her. It was the feeling of seeing her uncomfortable, powering through because she felt like she had to -- he was so proud, yet so worried, and wanted to bring her home so they could watch Tangled and he could make her the matzo ball soup recipe that Alex taught him when they were kids. 

“I know,” she croaks at him, face crumbling. “It does. I feel like shit. But I just have to get through today, and I’ll be fine.”

(After spending six hours at school, another two on homework, pedaling through five bottles of Gatorade and getting four hours of sleep because her throat and sinuses prevent her from any adequate rest. Yeah. She’ll be fine.) ((She’ll still come to school tomorrow.))

Luke knows all of this. In his head, he’s drafting the text to his parents that he’ll type out in his lap during first period to tell them that he’s going to be at the Molina’s for the next couple of days, taking care of Julie. They do have a band to worry about, after all, and their lead singer needs to be in top shape. 

Just looking at her tired face makes his chest hurt. She looks like she hasn’t smiled in a long time. Wanting to comfort her, somehow, he reaches his hands up to cradle her cheeks -- but she swats him away. 

“Luke, no. I’m not getting you sick.”

Fighting her flailing hands, he manages to slip his own to her cheeks, making sure that the fingers that are wandering into her hair rub her scalp. That’s always a calming, relieving feeling. 

“Impossible, mariposa. My immune system is Herculean.”

She looks up at him, fully, for the first time that morning. He can’t help but grin at getting to see her face, no matter how tired she thinks she looks, and even though she thinks he is full of shit she can’t help but mirror his expression. 

“There’s my girl,” he whispers unconsciously. Her skin warms underneath his hands. “Are you alright? Do you have a fever? You’re getting a little toasty.”

Her skin temperature rises from her blush even higher as his hands slip from her hair and to her forehead, pathetically testing for a fever. 

“I’m good,” she shakes her head, trying to brush it off. His eyes refocus on her, and he sighs; the air staying silent between them as she tries to decipher what he’s thinking. 

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he insists. “I told you to take care of yourself. Can’t have my frontwoman blowing her nose in between each song at a gig.”

“I’m your frontwoman now? Fuck Julie and the Phantoms, I guess.”

Luke smirks, and for a heavenly moment forgets that the precious girl in front of him isn’t in pain, but she stiffles a cough after her joke. Frowning, he drops his hands to grab hers so that he can hold them up between their chests. 

“You’re my everything, silly. Frontwoman, best friend, study partner, favorite person-”

“-Walking petri dish.”

“Yes. My walking petri dish.”

The joke lightens Julie up. Maybe today, if her and Luke can keep making jokes, she will get through. She can’t think of anything else to say as his lips press against her forehead in a gesture so caring that she would grab his face and move those lips down a few inches if she weren’t, you know, a walking petri dish. 

Before either of them can say anything else, the school bell rings. It’s time for her miserable day to start. Just the idea of sitting still in her math class makes her shiver, and she wraps her arms around herself. 

“Are you cold?” Luke jumps to ask, moving closer to her as the halls start moving with crowds of other students. 

“Luke, I’m fine-”

“My locker is right by your math class. I have a flannel in there. You’re wearing it today.”

“Luke-”

“No arguments. I was walking you to class anyways. I’m walking you to every class, actually. Your backpack weighs more than you do and that’s the last thing you need to feel right now.”

(Not to be creepy, but Julie Molina would marry Luke right now if he asked. Sometimes she wonders if her other best friend, Flynn, is right when she makes jokes about her and Luke being a married couple. If this is marriage, sign her up.)

“Thank you,” she says lightly, trying not to strain her throat. Luke responds with tugging on her left hand, beginning to pull her towards the staircase at the end of the hall. 

“We’ll get you better, Molina. Mark my words.”

Tagging @willexx because you got all impatient on me. love you babe and love you too anon!!

[readingwritingcrying]

I looooove reading your Klaus whump fics; thank you so for writing them!! If you feel like writing more sickfics, I’d love to see Klaus with asthma and a bad cold/flu that turns into pneumonia and a trip to the hospital/infirmary with fluffy sibling caretaking :)

ALRIGHT ANON!! It’s been way too long since I started writing for this prompt but here we are! I hope this is alright, I did a bit of research for some of the medical stuff, but I’ve never had asthma, so if some things are a little iffy, I hope you can forgive me. 

There was one thing that Klaus knew for sure: asthma was an absolute bitch. Sure, his years of smoking never helped - an awful idea in retrospect, but Klaus had cared more about quieting the ghosts then the flare-up in his system… and then he got into the harder stuff, and none of it mattered anymore.

But he was sober, and he still felt like shit. His chest was weighed down and it felt like he had to fight for each breath to be scraped through his lungs. He woke up around 3 am last night (this morning?…whatever) coughing until his eyes were watering, and he hadn’t been able to get a bit of rest since.

Every time he tried, he started coughing again, and Klaus could firmly say that he was miserable. Fuck, was he miserable. He just wanted to sleep, to breath, to not hurt. But unfortunately, that wasn’t his power, he was stuck seeing ghosts. And now that Ben was here, alive, not even fun was. Klaus was pretty sure he’d stick his tongue out if he didn’t feel like such shit, but he did, so he settled for thinking rude thoughts at the stupid little girl on a bike.

“Klaus?” There was a knock on his door. “Vanya made cinnamon rolls, you want some?” Ben’s voice was familiar, soothing almost. It was weird, getting adjusted to not being connected at all times. When he had first come back, he practically still followed Klaus everywhere. Now, there was some privacy, but they’d always be close.

Klaus tried to respond that no, probably not, his throat was raw and he couldn’t imagine actually eating anything and having it go down without coming back up, but all that left his mouth was a crack of voice followed by a fit of harsh coughs.

Ben opened the door immediately, looking concerned. “Inhaler?” He asked, immediately looking for it. Klaus gestured vaguely to his dresser but shook his head.

“Think ‘m just sick, Benny,” he rasped, still trying for a carefree smile. Ben’s concerned expression didn’t leave. He walked towards Klaus, hesitating for only a brief moment before he pressed his hand to Klaus’ forehead.

“Shit Klaus,” Ben cursed. “You’re burning up! Why didn’t you tell someone?” Klaus received Ben’s very best my-brother-is-a-dumbass glare, but it was softened with the obvious concern laced through his words.

Klaus shrugged, teeth clenching as his aching muscles protested. “Flu’s been going around… don’t like shots anymore…” Klaus was so tired. His voice was quiet, flat, so unlike him; but he just didn’t have the energy to feel anything other than shitty gross and sick.

Ben rolled his eyes. “You know you can just get the spray, Klaus? Seriously…”Klaus avoided his eyes.

“Well, come on, you’re seeing Mom.” Ben had taken on a no-arguments tone, but Klaus didn’t pay it much attention.

“What? No, I’m just dandy, no need to bother her-“

Ben gripped his arm. Klaus groaned, but it turned into a set of wet hacking coughs. He held on to Ben’s arms as he coughed, tears forcing the way from the squeezed corners of his eyes. The eyeliner he put on the day before was going to be a mess (not that it wasn’t in the first place). Finally, when he could breathe a bit better he nodded. He was too sick to fight it, and Ben being, well, not a ghost, it wasn’t like he was going to have much of a choice. 

Ben pulled Klaus up, and he wavered, unsteady on his feet. His head was spinning, throbbing. His voice betrayed him, letting out a hoarse whimper. He felt Ben’s hand move to his back to steady him after he shoved the inhaler in his back pocket. Slowly, the two of them made their way from his room down the stairs, Klaus leaning dizzily on his brother for support. Klaus was grateful at least that Ben was letting him walk. He wasn’t that sick, he could do this much, but he knew that Ben was strong enough to easily scoop his slight body up and drag him along either way. The thought made his stomach flip with nausea. “Klaus?” Vanya’s voice drew his attention, and he looked up at her, unfocused as his gaze might be. “Is he okay?” Her eyes were wide with concern, directing her question to Ben. He nodded. “Just a bad flu. Of course he didn’t get his shot this year,” Ben sighed, and Klaus’ heart squeezed with guilt for just a second. “He’s got a pretty decent fever, I’m taking him to Mom.” Vanya nodded, before taking his other arm. “I’ll help,” she decided quietly. Klaus didn’t need it, but he didn’t protest. Vanya helped whenever she could, almost like she thought she still had to prove something. She didn’t. But after so long not being cared for (physically, sorry ghost Ben) it made him feel warm in a way he was sure wasn’t from the fever to have two siblings by his side when he felt so absolutely horrible. When the three of them walked into their Mom’s room - converted from the old gallery so that she could actually have a place of her own - she was instantly taking his temperature and guiding him to a chair to sit down. “Oh my, 102.4, let’s try and get that down…” Quickly he was being handed cool water and two pills. Klaus’ mind was hazy. He tried to give them back, he couldn’t take anything. He was sober. They slipped onto the floor with a clatter, causing Grace to tut in concern. Ben was by his side. “Klaus, it’s okay, you can take it. It’s just for your fever.” Klaus shook his head. His face was flushed red, but he was cold, not processing the words all of the way. “Please, Klaus,” Ben urged. He felt the cool press of the pills against his mouth and allowed himself to swallow, trusting Ben. “Have some water,” Vanya encouraged gently. He took a few sips. It soothed his raw throat but did nothing for the pain in his chest. He sat back against the plush chair, eyes closed and sore. He felt so dizzy. He was breathing a bit to fast, too shallow, but nothing would alleviate it. He was wheezing now, he could hear it. “Mom? Mom, is this normal? What’s going on with him?” Klaus clutched his chest. He hurt. This wasn’t like the asthma attacks he had, his throat, while swollen didn’t feel like it was closing up on him, but he just wasn’t getting enough air somehow. “Get Diego, we’ll need his car. We need to get him to a hospital.” Ben was the first to react, quickly shooting out the door. They had gotten rid of a lot of their equipment at the house - they still had things for emergencies and general first aid after missions, but after they had settled into their new life after the averted apocolypse, it quickly became clear fully stocked hospital drugs, as well as a bar, wasn’t helpful for their recovering brother.

Vanya stayed, worried. “Mom? What is it?” Her voice shook slightly when she spoke, the light’s flickering along with it.Grace smiled at her, somehow still managing to look just as sad and nervous all the same. “It looks like his flu turned into pneumonia, and he appears to be suffering from hypoxia, although a test would be needed to confirm it.” It was factual. But then, more comforting: “We know about it earlier than usual for him. He’s not in danger.”  Klaus listened to this in his dazed state. It was almost like he could feel his fever starting to climb as awareness grew foggier - not even the type he had liked. He must have fallen asleep or passed out or was otherwise too out of it to remember because the next thing he knew he was waking up in a hospital bed. His first thought? Fuck, what did he take? Klaus opened his eyes with a groan, reaching up to find an oxygen mask over his nose.

“Hey, there, Klaus. Scared the shit out of us,” said Diego, who was sitting next to him, brought his hand away from his face.

Ben was leaning against the wall near him and gave Klaus a tired smile. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all.

Klaus gave a bit of a groan, trying to tug off the oxygen mask. It was itchy, and he didn’t want it on anymore.

A strong hand caught his own, and Klaus met Luther’s eyes. “Leave that be, Klaus,” he ordered, “You’re sick, you need it right now.”

Klaus relaxed. It was still annoying, but even though he just woke up, he just didn’t have the energy to argue. Or, he considering how raw his throat felt, the voice to do so either.

“Sleep, Klaus. Everything’s going to be fine,” Allison soothed. There was no specific phrase used, but it was just as comforting as if she had rumored him. Klaus sunk back into sleep.

[iamnotbrianmay]

The A Experience

Summary: The three times Roger's bandmates said 'I Love You' to him, and the three times he said it back.

Notes: I fucking loved this chapter, writing it, planning it, and reading it over and over. I don't know why but I feel like it's the best thing I have ever writen for this story, even if it's just a time skip chapter. Now, I know what you might all be thinking, you are missing stuff, Maria. What about the Moving in? Or the healing on the part of Roger? But I feel like those things deserve their own fanfic, you know? So what I'm going to do is that once I finish this story I'm going to write their stories. I have planned them out completely already, don't you worry.For all of you who want to know their lenghts:

- Moving In - Three chapters (about 10k - 15k) - Aftermath - Five Chapters (18k - 20k)

So yeah, I hope y'all are as excited as I am for these stories.

the taglist goes as follows: @seven-seas-of-why, @twotitsjohndeacon, @dancindeaky, @gee-uloser, @mozzarellamazzello, @mozzie-s, @deracine-dogma-deux, @shutupanddontjudge, @warping-reality, @demianhill , @zodiacal-dust-and-curls  

Three Months After the Incident;

Surprisingly, Deaky is the first one to say ‘I Love You’ to Roger.

It’s Friday night, and instead of being out with his friends he’s stuck at the flat with a fever. He’s lying in his bed sick and miserable, trying not to feel like the world is ending when he gets the text message that sets the night off.

—Bri: rogieeeeeeeeeee

Roger groaned as he heard the annoying ping! of his phone. He recognized the text-tone he had set for Brian— it was that alone that motivated him to turn over and grab his phone. As he quickly unlocked it his fever-addled brain reminded him that he would have to text back while looking at the painfully bright screen; something that would not help his current pounding headache.

—Bri: why didnt you coem?

Roger frowned as he read the uncharacteristically bad spelling and grammar in Brian’s texts. It was also missing the ever present addition of ‘—Bri.’ a gag that the older man was adamandant on using ever since Roger had complained about his texting style. Then he remembered that Freddie had taken Brian to the newest bar in town, an over the top place called Verona which Freddie seemed to adore, and left him and John to fend for themselves.

As far as he knew Brian never got drunk, or at least had never had gotten drunk until Roger came into his life, which was something he was not happy about. Not that Roger didn’t like when Brian had fun or went out to clubs with Freddie and John, but he couldn’t help but worry that he was a bad influence; that his actions were mirroring Tim’s.

He blinked a few times, trying to will away the drunken typing, but when he looked back the evidence was still there— as clear as day, and a painful as poison. Roger typed out a quick reply, not wanting Brian to think that he was ignoring him.

Taylor: r u drunk?

Roger started biting his lip nervously, thinking about what would follow next in the line of things that he was going to infect Brian with. His feverish brain was all too happy to provide him with answers; everything ranging from his horrible clothing and love for k-pop (of all things!) to things like smoking, sometimes even the occasional joint or other, somewhat more than harmful, substances.

Brian’s answer wasn’t comforting at all.

—Bri: ts nice!

—Bri: would be nicre if u were heer

Roger shut his phone off without answering. Unable to get comfortable, he threw the covers off and wobbled into the kitchen. So what if he was sick? He was in desperate need of a drink— maybe two—something that had been strictly forbidden by the other boys in the house now that his body was shivering with fever and he was taking medicine for his rattling cough and  sore throat.

They had been performing in an outdoor stage a week ago when Roger started to feel this way, light headed and extremely hot. As the night went on he felt progressively worse and by the time they had finished playing he was feeling like death warmed over. After their final song the small restaurant crowd had cheered and while the others had felt high with the adrenaline rush, Roger just wanted a hot drink and a place to rest, like a coffin.

The next morning he had woken up with an aching throat, runny nose and a fever. He felt as if someone was sitting on his chest and was unable to get out of bed without feeling like he was going to pass out. Sleeping alone didn’t make him feel any better; since he had moved in he and Brian didn’t need to share a bed anymore, quite possibly the only negative of his new living situation. Living with them all also meant he had a front row seat to what he had done to the older man and he wasn’t sure he deserved to share his bed anyways.

Roger unscrewed the lid from the bottle of cheap Vodka he had stuffed deep into the back of the pantry and poured himself a glass. He knew his bandmates would give him a hard time if they found out about it, but at this point he didn’t really care all that much. He only stopped when the glass was half full, clear liquid twinkling in the kitchen light, promising some relief. Roger put the cap back on and stuffed the bottle back where it belonged.

His plan to get shitfaced was regretfully cut short when he turned around to find John standing in the doorway, his head tilted to the side and his arms crossed over his chest. His stare wasn’t angry or annoyed, but a mix of curiosity and concern. “I could have sworn we told you not to drink while sick.”

Roger’s fingers twitched as his grip tightened on the glass, a little afraid that John was going to take it away from him.

“I needed a drink,” he explained.

John sighed, nodding for Roger to follow him into the living room, and for some strange reason he followed. They sat on the couch together, legs crossed, then John said something that surprised him, “If you can give me a valid reason as to why you need a drink I will let you finish that glass. I might even join you.”

Roger’s eyes widened, and he was about to ask what had come over John before the younger man interrupted him.

“We will talk about that, or about something else if you want to, until Freddie and Brian come stumbling through the door, after which we become four drunks instead of two. I promise I will do this, but you have to give me a valid reason.”

Ever since Roger had moved in John, though quiet and often introverted, had been extremely supportive, keeping him standing on his own two feet when he started to feel like the room seemed was spinning out of his control. In moments exactly like the one they were having right now. He was staring at Roger with a patient smile, one hand resting lightly on his knee and the other extended so that Roger could put the glass on his palm. It seemed like a fair trade, a reason for a drink. So nodded in agreement and handed John his vodka.

The younger man smiled, placing the alcohol on the table before turning back to Roger and started idly tracing circles on his knee. Roger sniffed twice (damn his runny nose) and thought about what to say. Fuck it he thought, before letting the words pour out of him. It was as if someone else was talking, telling John about his worries and his guilt, but he was still very much present as he watched his friend react to all he was saying. He could the various emotions in his eyes, his expression changing from neutral to angry, then flickering again to sadness. Roger heard his own voice, the tone in which he spoke, soft and sad and urgent— even if he wasn’t quite in control of the words he was saying. What he noticed most of all was how tenderly John reached out with a tissue to dry the tears (when had he started crying?) that were sliding down his cheeks as he spoke.

When Roger returned from his— well he didn’t quite know what to call it apart from an “out of body experience” but that didn’t seem quite right— he looked away from John. Suddenly he was aware and ashamed of the fact that, one, he didn’t quite know what he had said, and two, probably had over-shared to someone who didn’t want to hear his personal battles. It had been different than when he had told Brian, he had been hyper-aware of every word he was saying and how Brian would hear it; making sure that he didn’t make a fool of himself. With John however it was almost as if his mind had switched to autopilot, and he remained unable to act on anything beyond registering John’s emotions and thinking ‘Oh god, what am I doing?’

One moment he was trying to justify his reason for a damn drink, the next he was ripping open his chest, everything bared before John’s eyes. He prepared himself for anger, or disgust, or maybe even John telling him what he most feared; that he was right. He would tell him that he needed to back off; keep as far away from Brian as possible. Instead John, the least touchy-feely member of their group, leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Roger’s shoulders. Putting one hand between his shoulder blades and one on the back of his head, then resting his head on the side of Roger’s neck.

He didn’t know if it was the fever or if he’d always been that soft, but the gesture was enough to break Roger. He gripped the back of John’s shirt and was unable to stop the hot tears that escaped. John simply held him, didn’t pull away or complain about the puddle of tears and snot he was probably making on his shirt; he just let him cry for as long as he needed to.

When he finally untangled himself from John, the younger man pressed their foreheads together, and smiled at Roger, “Y’know, I love you, Rog.” he gave Roger’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

That made Roger chuckle, the last few tears that had been left in his eyes streamed down his face, and neither of them bothered to dry them, “I love you too John, don’t know how we’ll break this to Freddie and Bri though.” John smiled, glad to see even a glimmer of his friend’s regular self.

They stay like that for a few minutes, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together before John pulled back. Roger wanted to whine at the loss of contact, but John took his hand in his instead; it wasn’t quite the same, but it was still comforting.

John took a deep breath, “You aren’t like Tim, you do know that, right Rog?”

Rogers eyes flew open and he looked at John, his grey eyes watching him, his expression serious and sincere. Suddenly Roger feels a flush of anger.

“How can you say that?”

John seemed unfazed by his anger, “I find it quite easy to tell the truth.”

“John—”

“Roger,” His tone is not angry, but he cuts off Roger’s rebuttal. Roger resentfully closes his mouth, his body trembling slightly as John continues. “You are not him. You will never be him. And just because you showed Brian how to enjoy more than one drink does not mean that you are following in his footsteps.”

“But John—”

“Did Brian ever refuse a drink?”

Roger hesitates, “No, but–”

“Did you force him to drink?”

Roger frowned, “Kind of—?”

“Oh bullshit!” John snapped, “You didn’t force him to do anything, Roger. Brian is soft, yes, but he can also be a stubborn son of a bitch. If he wanted to stay sober he would have, be it by telling you to fuck off or by sipping on a coke or something.”

“If I’m not a bad influence then why is he keep drinking more now?”

John shrugged, “Simple, he likes it.”

“That’s why,” Roger insisted, “I did that! Brian liking alcohol is my fault! Just like it was Tim’s fault that I began smoking.”

The silence that followed was deafening and John’s hard stare softened, “Look, Roger I know this will be hard to believe, but Brian had actually tasted alcohol before you came around. I will not sit by and let you torture yourself for something that is not your fault! This isn’t something that anyone can be blamed for alright? Brian is just going out and doing things normal twenty-one-year-olds do. If anything, you helped him loosen up, brought him out of his shell a little. It’s a good thing! ”

“Deaky…”

“No, I’m serious. As long as it doesn’t become a destructive habit, I don’t see any harm.”

Roger thought about that for a moment, “As long as you help him quit if it gets out of hand…”

John scoffed, “Of course we will! That’s what family is for.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, Roger yearned for that kind of belonging.  Warmth filled his chest at the thought of someday being part of their family, someday being called Deaky’s brother, or Freddie’s “constant annoyance”. Maybe even Brian’s significant other. But for the time being he would happily settle for friend, roommate, and bandmate. “Now, about that drink...”

John groaned, “I was kind of hoping that you had forgotten about that,” he reached for the glass, taking a swig before handing it to Roger, “but a promise is a promise.”

Roger brought the glass to his lips but hesitated, “Wait, do you think anything bad will happen if I drink while on this medication?”

John shook his head, “Naw, it’s over-the-counter stuff. Not strong enough to kill you, but it’s strong enough to get you hammered faster than usual.”

The grin that spread across Roger’s face was mischievous, to say the least, “Perfect.”

The funny thing was that when Brian and Freddie finally stumbled in an hour later, they were the ones who had to get John and Roger to bed, not the other way around.

Five Months After the Incident:

The next one to say I love you to Roger is Freddie.

The flat was silent when Roger woke up, except for the quiet snores coming from Brian’s side of the room. He rolled over and frowned once he saw the ungodly hour at which he woke up. Still, he was feeling much better after recovering from that god-awful flu and couldn’t help but smile at Brian’s strangely adorable snoring.

Deciding he might as well get up and make some coffee, he peeled back the covers and moved around the room as silently as he could to avoid waking the other man.

As he slowly shut the door behind him and turned towards the kitchen he realised that he wasn’t the only one awake. Usually the most likely to sleep in ‘till noon, Freddie, was deep in concentration; scribbling on a piece of paper, shoulders hunched and hair tied back into a low ponytail. There was soft murmuring every few seconds and Roger decided to clear his throat to avoid scaring him when he walked into the kitchen.

Freddie man turned around, and Roger was quick to notice his watery eyes his slightly red nose. He rushed forward then, placing a hand on Freddie’s back, “Fred are you okay? You haven’t caught my cold have you?”

Freddie made a gesture with his hand, “No, no I’m fine Roger. I don’t know what came over me.”

Okay now Roger was really worried about him. “You don’t cry easily.”

“I know.”

“And when you do, you do it in private.”

“How is it you know so much about me already and we haven’t even recorded our first album?”

“I notice things” Roger shrugged. “And we’ll get there soon. But don’t change the topic, Freddie. What’s wrong?”

The older man bit his lip, looking at Roger with misty eyes before he seemed to accept that Roger wasn’t going to back off until he got an answer. His brown eyes flickered back to the paper on the table and Roger followed his gaze.

It was quite messy, doodles and lyrics seemed twined together in a cacophony of colours and notes, but the song was there. And in between the doodles of flowers, hand-holding, and the disturbing picture of someone with their eyes, mouth and ears covered, were some of the rawest lyrics Roger had ever read.

He could hear the sad notes of a ballad, the sweet puring of John’s Bass and Brian’s Red Special, he could sense the sadness behind the piece, and for some reason dreaded getting to the end.

Then he read the last line and it all made sense. ‘... ‘cause regardless of the words I’ve said, I’ve never had the courage to say I’m sorry.’

He could see how the hands which were intertwined resembled his and Brian’s hands. One had the tell-tale scar that Roger bared on his thumb and the other hand had its nails painted white. The flowers on the sides seemed random enough, but Roger had been around Freddie enough to know anything Freddie drew was seldom random. And only after close inspection did Roger realise that the man looked like him, long blond hair, feminine features, and suffering in silence. He’d known Freddie had a knack for drawing but this was...

They were both quiet for a long time, and Roger wondered if Brian or John would wake up before they managed to say what was on their minds. The words seemed to be stuck inside of him and he found himself unable to drag his eyes away from the paper. Roger wasn’t sure he could speak to Freddie even if he wanted to.

In the end Roger he didn’t have to.

“You know, I never said sorry for what I did to you.” Freddie said quietly.

When Roger finally turned towards the older man he couldn’t help but feel pained, because his friend genuinely believed that it had been his fault, somehow. That somehow Freddie was expected to know that one of his oldest friends was an asshole behind closed doors; and that the world was small enough for Brian’s old crush to be his ex.

“You didn’t need to,” his voice came out as a pathetic croak, and Roger cursed himself internally.

“Of course I did, darling,” he whispered back, “of course I did. If it wasn’t for me you would have asked Brian on that date of yours. If it wasn’t for me, you would have had a nice night, if it wasn’t for me he wouldn’t have—”

Freddie looked away, hastily brushing away a tear that had broken free.

“It was my fault that night went so horribly wrong and the worst part is that I never had the balls to say I’m sorry.”

For the first time in his life Roger Taylor was happy that he woke up at six in the morning and that he had decided to stay up instead of rolling over and going back to sleep. God knows if they would be having this conversation otherwise.

Roger was glad for the quiet of the apartment, for the fact that right now they were the only ones awake. It was only because it was so quiet that Freddie was able to hear the words Roger whispered next.

“Freddie, look at me.”

The singer hesitated before turning his head around, and Roger kneeled beside his chair so that they were at the same level.

“What happened that night was my fault as much as it was yours.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but Roger brought a finger up and placed it across Freddie’s lips.

“By which I’m saying that it’s not your fault at all.”

A loose floorboard creaked in one of the bedrooms but Roger ignored it for the time being, knowing he needed to get this off his chest.

“It’s taken me months to realise it, but what happened that night wasn’t anyone’s fault but Tim’s.” Roger finally lifted his finger off Freddie’s lip, “It took me months ‘till I realised that, and it may take you months to realise that too, but that’s okay. I’ll be here to remind you if you ever doubt it.”

There was a short silence before Freddie smiled, “I should be the one comforting you.”

“Nah,” Roger said, for the first time in months not feeling like a fragile mess.

“I’ve had more than my fair share of comforting words. Now it’s time for me to comfort you. This friendship goes both ways right?”

Freddie blinked owlishly, which was a very rare expression for him. “What did we do before you came into our lives, dear?”

“Crash, burn, and tease poor Brian mercilessly?” Roger shrugged.

They both started laughing at that, Roger leaning forward to put his head on Freddie’s lap and Freddie running his fingers through Roger’s blond locks, “Seriously Freddie, you don’t have to sorry.”

“But what if I want too?”

Roger considered that for a moment, “Then I guess I’ll take it. But only if it’s the last time you say that to me, deal?”

“The last time ever?”

“No dufus, about this particular topic! I’ve known you for a while now, give me some credit. You’re bound to fuckup something sooner or later.”

There was a short breathy laugh that filled Roger’s heart with love, and then Freddie bent down to press a quick kiss on his head. “I’m sorry, darling. For everything.”

“I know, Freddie.” Roger answered, “And it’s okay, I forgive you.” It was odd how much lighter things felt between the two of them.

For a second Roger wondered how he had gotten so lucky, how he had managed to find this small home away from home, this group of people which he understood so well. His boys, who he could fight with and insult, only to make up a few hours later as if nothing had happened. Roger also wondered how he had survived before this, before them.

“You know, I’m starting to have these really cheesy thoughts about how much I love you,” Freddie whispered as he resumed running his hands through Roger’s hair, and Roger’s feelings seemed to be amplified by three hundred.

“Oh good god,” he said teasingly, his words slightly muffled, “ you and John!? Now we’re really going to have some explaining to do to poor Brian!”

Freddie smacked his head playfully and Roger chuckled. “I love you too, Fred. Very much.”

There was another long moment of silence in which Roger considered closing his eyes and drifting off. He wasn’t comfortable, or particularly sleepy, but Freddie’s hands worked like magic on him, and the only way he managed to snap out of his haze was when Freddie spoke again.

“Okay, I know Brian said pestering you was completely off limits, but honestly darling I’m dying to know.”

Roger regretfully lifted his head to look at him, “What’s up?”

“Are you in love with him?” Freddie asked, “Or do you at least like him a little bit after all this time?”

Roger realized he didn’t feel uncomfortable talking about this with Freddie. Maybe it was the honest curiosity in the man’s voice, or the way that they seemed to be baring their souls for each other to see this morning, but Roger let out a dreamy sigh.

Then wrinkled his nose at his reaction.

“Freddie you have no idea,” he groaned, getting up and sitting up on the other chair so that he could look at the older man. His voice was no longer dreamy, it was rather like he was annoyed at himself, for betraying his feelings so easily, “I think he’s making me stupid! I really can’t find another explanation for what I feel. It’s like he walks into a room and it becomes brighter, he plays guitar and it sounds perfect, and he smiles— oh god, don’t get me started on his smile.” His head hit the table with a soft thunk.

Freddie chuckled, “You really are fucked, aren’t you?”

“Beyond belief,” he answered, matter of factly. He looked back up, “Honestly, Fred, it’s gotten ridiculous! That man could ask me to roll around on the floor like a dog and I wouldn’t even bother to ask what for.”

At that Freddie laughed loudly, throwing his head back and bringing a hand to his chest, while Roger sat across from him feeling pathetic, “It’s absurd, it really is.”

Freddie looked at him slyly, “Then tell him.”

Roger could feel his heart start to race, could hear the heavy beat. The thought of being Brian’s something terrified him beyond belief, made him feel like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, one step from plummeting to the ground. His palms actually started to sweat. Roger often thought of relationships being somewhat similar to base jumping. You put your life on the line to jump into the great unknown, all the while your actions or a faulty parachute could mean the difference between life and death. How could you do that when you don’t know how it’s going to end? Roger felt like he couldn’t rely on himself not to mess things up epically. For one, he didn’t really know how to be in a relationship. For another matter, did they ever really go well? Looking back at his past experiences, Roger just wasn’t sure.

He couldn’t do that to Brian, could he?

He couldn’t risk starting a relationship, all the while lugging his emotional baggage, his uncertainties, and his broken way of handling romantic feelings. Hell, Brian himself had admitted didn’t know what he was doing! It was terrifying and tempting at the same time because while he wasn’t sure he could give Brian what he deserved, god how he wanted to try.

“You’ll never know until you do,” Freddie said. Oh god, Roger didn’t realize he’d said that last part out loud.  “I may be a hopeless romantic but I care about my friends. You and Brian have something darling, don’t you think that’s worth the risk?”

“You think?”

“I know,” Freddie stated, “and I also know that whole ‘If you really love them, let them go’ thing is absolute bullshit, and I will murder you if you try to do that to Brian.”

“You wouldn’t murder me,” Roger said confidently.

“And why not?”

“Simple,” he replied, getting up to make them both some coffee, “who is going to help you choose your outfits? Deaky? Brian?”

Freddie made a face, “Goodness, you’re right, I can’t murder you. I’ll find another way to get you Taylor!”

Six Months After the Incident:

Unsurprisingly, the last one to say I love you is Brian.

They’d just finished recording the first song for their album after hours and hours of recordings and lyric tinkering. But by the end of the night Seven Seas of Rhye was finally ready. Which meant they only had nine more songs to record before their first album would be complete.

Brian and Roger  were under direct orders not to go inside the flat that evening unless they wanted to hear things that might scar them for life, so after recording they took off to find a nice place to eat. Somewhere they could celebrate this (significant!) small victory, their one step closer to fame and notoriety.

They walked around downtown, searching for somewhere that looked decent but cheap enough for them to properly celebrate, and in the end they settled for an 80’s themed restaurant. The bright lights and colours drew them in, and they stayed because of the smell wafting from the kitchen.

The place looked promising, with reasonable prices, great music and greasy food that seemed perfect for the occasion. Rogers stomach started growling at the prospect of a burger and fries. They slid into a booth, and he started tapping a rhythm on the rubik's cube themed table.

“D’you think we would have fit in more in the eighties?” Brian asked randomly.

The question took Roger by surprise, but he didn’t have to think twice about the answer, “Are you kidding me? Of course not! Are you crazy? What would people in the eighties think about four gays in a glam rock band? The press would have eaten us alive!”

Brian laughed, then shrugged, “I guess you have a point, but our music fits the era quite well, don’t you think?”

“Oh, perfectly,” Roger agreed, “And so do our stage costumes. But then again, I’d rather not be closeted and miserable, thank you very much.”

“What concert would you have liked to play in?”

Roger raised his eyebrows, “Is that even a question? Live Aid, of course.”

“‘Cause of Led Zeppelin?”

“‘Cause of Led Zeppelin.” Roger could imagine himself on that stage, playing for millions of people, and breathing the same air Led Zeppelin had done a few hours before, “I could kill a man to be there.”

“So could I.” Brian agreed.

The waiter arrived with the menus, interrupting their conversation, and started talking to them about the daily specials. They ended up ordering the chef recommended hamburger with cheese fries and a milkshake to share. He smiled and left them alone to discuss whatever they had been before he had arrived, walking away with a suggestive swing to his hips, and a wink towards Brian.

Roger could see the man’s appeal, his sandy blond hair, large brown eyes and long limbs. If his heart hadn’t been completely enamoured with Brian he might have even thought about asking for his number. But how could he? The guitarist was right there, looking like an 80’s god in his loose white shirt, chocolate-brown curls framing his face. Brian, however, seemed very affected by the waiter’s attention, Roger could see a blush blooming across his cheeks.

The younger man could hear his heart, and Freddie for that matter, screaming in protest as he placed his hands over Brian’s, “You could ask for his number, you know? I don’t want to stand in your way.”

Brian frowned and tilted his head in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

Roger nodded his head towards the counter where the waiter was leaning, talking to the chef, presumably about their orders.  “About blondie over there. He looked like he was interested in getting more than just your order.”

“Yeah well, he should know better than to hit on someone who’s clearly taken.” He said indignantly.

They both fell silent, the implication of Brian’s words finally hit him, and the night rapidly turned into a game of who could blush the deepest shade of red.

“ Oh god, that’s embarrassing. I’m sorry Roger. And rude, definitely more rude than embarrassing. I know we’re not, you’re not not my anything yet but I sort of— I don’t know what came over me, Rog, I’m sorry.”

The thought came unbidden Brian’s so cute when he’s jealous and Roger couldn’t contain the giggle that bubbled up in his throat. It was a nervous little thing, and it escaped him without his consent. But once he started he couldn’t stop, even though he knew how embarrassing he must sound; because of all the things he could have done, his body decided to start giggling like a twelve-year-old school girl.

And as much as he loved the way Brian was looking at him amusedly, like he had hung the moon and stars, it was very much not funny. He looked like an idiot, he sounded like an idiot, and he couldn’t stop the bloody thing from escaping his lips. He tried covering his mouth with his hand, but to his dismay Brian just seemed to think that was cuter judging by his expression.

“Oh Lord,” He said between giggles, “I hate myself.”

That seemed to be enough to make Brian join in. He started to giggle quietly, trying to cover his face with both hands, and failing miserably to contain the sound of laughter. Maybe it was how tired they both felt, maybe the lack of sleep from trying to work, study, and record an album was finally catching up to them, or maybe it was the emotional exhaustion from trying so hard to repress their feelings for each other’s sake. But by the time the waiter came back with their food they had barely said another word, yet their stomachs hurt and their eyes were wet with tears caused by laughing for so long.

They managed to contain themselves long enough to thank the waiter, but once he had left Brian looked at him with twinkling eyes, and a mischievous expression. Roger wiped his eyes, “Brian, no. Please stop. It hurts.”

The older man put his hands up, “I’m not doing anything! I was just trying to apologize seconds before you had your hysteria attack.”

“Yeah well,” He tried to defend himself, “you started laughing with me!.”

“Couldn’t help it,” Brian said, “You’re just way too cute.”

Suddenly Roger didn’t feel like laughing anymore. He blushed madly, looking down to his greasy burger and french fries. Brian seemed to sense his change in mood, and instantly tried to make it better, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. It seems I can’t help but put my foot in my mouth!”

“It’s fine, really Bri” Roger said as he stuffed a fry into his mouth, “I’m just not used to being the one blushing.”

“Oh,” Brian raised his eyebrows, “How so?”

Roger rolled his shoulders “Well, I’m usually the one doing the flirting, and not being a mumbling, blushing, mess. I guess you’ve changed me, Brian Harold May.”

“Have I?”

“Greatly,” Roger looked up at Brian through his lashes, the older boy was looking at him with curiosity, “I didn’t think I’d ever want to have a relationship with anyone after— well, you know.”

He stuffed another fry into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it before continuing.

“Ever since I came out of that shithole I’ve been a shag and run kind of guy. Never thought I would like someone as much as I like you.”

“And that’s why you’re trying to set me up with the waiter?”

Roger shrugged, “I don’t think I deserve someone like you. I don’t deserve you waiting for me, taking me out, indulging my tantrums and moods. I’m not worth all of this, Brian.”

Brian May never cursed openly in public, so when he felt the guitarist grab his hand and say “that’s bullshit”, he knew he was in for a rant. Roger braced himself for an angry explanation of what the guitarist thought about what Roger had just said. Maybe with a few ‘Deaky warned me about this’ thrown in there, but what he received was much better than he had expected.

“I love you, Roger Taylor,” he started, and Roger snapped his head up so fast he nearly got whiplash, “I love you for everything you are, and everything you aren’t. I love the way you play drums, the way you care for people, the way you smile, the way you giggle at the most inappropriate times. I just so happen to find you the most interesting person on the face of earth. And if that’s not worth waiting for, I don’t know what is.”

“Brian, I—”

“No, let me finish,” Brian interrupted him, “I know this might seem silly, or straight up delusional, coming from someone you only just met seven months ago, when you pretended to be my boyfriend, but I think I think I’m falling love with you. No, I know I am. So stupidly ass-backwards in love that I am willing to wait for you. And if I have to wait fifty years for my first proper kiss, or my first proper shag, then so be it.

I waited three years for someone that wasn’t worth it, I can wait a hell of a lot longer for someone who is worth everything.”

That was the first time in Roger’s life that he was left truly speechless. Sitting in the middle of the night, eating the best french fries he had ever had, looking at Brian May as the other boy stared at him like he was the most precious being in the universe. He felt as if he had forgotten how to speak, forgotten how to move, how to breathe, how to think.

His brain was short circuiting as he tried to find an answer to what Brian had just said, and then when his brain seemed to fail completely he opened his mouth and let the words that first came to mind spill, “I...I love you, too.”

“Good,” Brian leaned back and popped a fry into his mouth, “that’s all I could hope for.” He grinned.

“But I’m not ready yet.” Roger cautioned.

“And that’s okay.”

Roger blinked once, “Are you kidding me?”

Brian raised an eyebrow, “Does it look like I’m kidding?”

“No.”

Brian took another sip of the milkshake, “That’s because I’m not. I was serious about waiting for you to come around. I’ll wait for as long as you need me to wait, as long as you love me too.”

Roger mulled over the idea of Brian’s love; his unorthodox, patient, unselfish way of loving. He’d wait for Roger until he was ready. That was...wow...he felt like he was floating, like the ground and all of his troubles were thousands of miles away as Brian smiled encouragingly back at him. He felt his heart flutter with something that felt suspiciously like hope.

“You really don’t mind?” He asked again

Brian shrugged, “I’ve survived twenty-one years being single. I think I can manage a few more as long as I get my daily dose of cuddling.”

He could tell Brian was joking about the last part by the glint in his eyes, but Roger smiled nonetheless, and nodded, “ I may, on occasion, need to hop in with you and take you up on that.”

“Good.” Brian grinned.

They ate the rest of their meal with an easy banter between them, chatting about everything and anything. Roger felt his shoulders relax, and his mind completely invest itself in the conversation. Brian animatedly talked about stars, and guitar chords, then about songs about stars, and Roger couldn’t help but feel that even with all the drama that had resulted, he had made the right choice by swiping right.

In the end, when the restaurant was closing and it was late enough for them to deem it safe to go back home, Roger was exhausted. They walked hand in hand, talking and laughing. And then when they got to their building Roger pulled Brian aside.

All it took was for him to look into Brian’s hazel eyes to make a choice. He stood on the tip of his toes and kissed the corner of Brian’s mouth. It was short and chaste, but Brian looked as if he had won the lottery.

“What was that for?”

“Reassurance.”

“Of what?”

“Of what’s to come, dummy. Now open the door, I’m freezing!”

[pale-silver-comb]

Hi. I love your blog and all the little headcannons (canon?) you do. I also noticed you're amazing for writing little stories for people who are having a tough time. Would it be too much to ask if I could have one? I'm suffering from a bout of depression/insomnia and I'm running on about 4 hours sleep in about 3 days. What do you think of Derek or Stiles getting insomnia from all the stuff they've seen and the other just cuddling them through it? Trying to stay awake so they're not alone?

Hey, sweetheart. The depression/insomnia combo is horrible. I don’t know if it will work for you but earlier this year I stumbled upon ASMR videos. I know some people find them weird but they really helped me when it came to getting to sleep. In the mean time, I hope this little fic does something to help. 

Stiles thought being able to sleep after the Nogitsune had been the universe’s way of balancing out the good and bad in his life: get possessed by a psychotic Japanese fox but sleep like a baby every night after. As it turned out, being able to sleep after a spirit uses your body to murder a bunch of people came down to the fact Stiles hadn’t had a break since finding Laura Hale’s body that night in the woods.   

He believed joining the academy would be a fresh start, and in many ways it was. He just didn’t count on the fact that now he didn’t have pure evil trying to kill him at every waking moment that his brain would finally find time to process it. Stiles had always been a fan of ignoring his problems until they eventually, just, go away; watching his friends die, looking down at his own body and knowing it wasn’t really his but the cardboard cutout left behind by the Nogitsune, the memory of watching Derek almost -

He assumed - stupidly - that he had been successful in that particular endeavour. As long as he had his pillow, he was fine. You’re going to be fine. That was what the faceless people of the internet said. Stiles didn’t think “fine” was ever going to be an option for him but he guessed hope was a nice sentiment. 

“Insomnia,” Scott said, repeating the word back to him. Stiles could practically hear the concern, loud and clear, ringing through the phone. It instantly made him feel worse. Heaving a sigh, he scrubbed a tired hand down his face. Maybe he shouldn’t have called.  

“Yes, insomnia.”

Scott was quiet for several seconds.  “Do you have your pillow?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Stiles answered. He was currently clutching it to his chest, sprawled out on his bedroom floor. It was 3am, the floor was hard, and if he didn’t get some sleep soon he was going to start crying; the kind of crying he hadn’t done since he was a kid and his mom took ill. 

“What about drugs?” Scott suggested. “I could ask my mom-”

“No drugs, Scott.”

“But-”

“I said no drugs, Scott.” 

The line went quiet again and Stiles felt his eyes begin to sting. This was a mistake.

“Sorry, man, I have to go.” 

He hung up before Scott could respond, deciding he could feel guilty about it later.

~

At the academy, he was on auto-pilot. Luckily, Stiles had come up with some of his best plans during the last four years on little-to-no sleep, so it wasn’t overly obvious to his fellow agents-in-training that he needed several cups on coffee just to get through the day.

It was obvious to someone though. Someone who clearly thought it was their sworn duty to haul Stiles over their shoulder in the middle of his third run to the coffee shop that day and deposit him in the back of their car. 

Stiles wanted to protest - he should protest, call for help, maybe? - but he had had his eyes closed when the stranger grabbed him, had been drooling on a statue, leaning against it for moral support, as he had waited for his order.

Plus, the stranger’s arms felt nice. 

In the back of his mind, Stiles couldn’t decide if thinking a stranger’s arms felt nice during a potential kidnapping - fuck, please don’t let it be a supernatural kidnapping - was because of his sleep deprived state or if that was just the way he was wired now. 

It was only when a door opened and a familiar pair of eyebrows slid into the driver’s seat did Stiles begin to laugh. Hysterically. 

“Of course,” he said, shaking his head and pressing his lips against the cool leather interior. Familiar hands strapped him into the his seat. “Of course it’s you, big guy.”

Derek just gave a slight huff and muttered something Stiles couldn’t hear, but it sounded an awful lot like, yeah, I missed you, too. 

Stiles laughed again. It was crazy, what your mind came up with when it wasn’t functioning properly. 

~

Stiles didn’t sleep on the way to….wherever Derek was driving them, but he also wasn’t present enough to argue when Derek lifted him out of the car and carried him up several flights of stairs. 

“Hey, dude,” Stiles slurred, suddenly very, very comfortable. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck and nuzzled into the power of The Scruff. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he had thought about nuzzling Derek’s beard more than once. “Where have you been?” He yawned, nuzzled in further. “Also, you’re a fucking built teady bear, did you know that?” 

Derek stopped at a door - hopefully is own - and manoeuvred Stiles until he took the hint and wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist. It wasn’t as good a position but Stiles would take it, shooting finger guns behind Derek’s back as he heard the sound of keys jingling. It was definitely his apartment then. What a good sourwolf. 

“Were you getting better?” he asked, when Derek didn’t answer. He yawned again and tried to muffle the sound against Derek’s neck. “Man, I hope you were. Hope you got a bunch of nice friends and a barbecue. I always thought you’d look good with a barbecue. I’m going to be in law enforcement. How crazy is that? I’m finally going to get a gun.” 

Derek snorted but it was the kind of sort that could also be construed as fond. Stiles didn’t know why, but it made something in his stomach ache, just a little.

Man, he was tired. 

“I got better, Stiles,” Derek whispered, carrying him inside…..somewhere that was much nicer than Derek’s old loft and definitely nicer than that train depot. Stiles shuddered at the memory of it. He could only make out a couch and a rug so far, his eyes felt so heavy, but it was a bright couch and rug: blue and orange, respectively. Stiles grinned. Derek was a secret Mets fan, he knew it. 

Derek snorted again and muttered something about Stiles having poor taste in baseball. 

Stiles was about to say something, because excuse you, but Derek beat him to it.

“Shhh,” he said, entering another room. A bedroom. It was huge with a massive window. In the corner was the biggest book case Stiles had ever seen. “It’s okay. I’ve got you this time. I’ve got you.”

Stiles let the words wash over him like a balm. He didn’t even know he needed those words but apparently he did. Apparently he needed them a lot. He kind of wanted to cry and again, he didn’t know why. 

Stupid Derek Hale, making him feel things. Always making him feel things.  

“That sounds nice,” he said instead, eyes permanently glued shut now. They were never going to open again. It was decided. This was his final resting place. In Derek Hale’s bed. “Please don’t leave this time.” 

What a way to go. 

~

When he woke, it was 3am again. Stiles’ first, miserable thought was, it’s always going to be like this, but then he stared a little closer at the alarm clock.

First of all, it was an actual clock, not just his phone. Secondly, there was a picture of Cora next to it. The last time he checked, he did not have a picture of Cora on his night stand. For another scary moment, he thought he might have amnesia but he quickly ruled it out. Not that he didn’t like Cora but she was definitely not the Hale he’d choose to have a picture of next to his bed. 

“I called the academy,” Derek said, making Stiles jump. He was standing in his bedroom doorway, carrying a mug and what looked like….a historical novel. Stiles bit his lip hard, more than a little amused by the cover: two guys, locked in an embrace, wearing togas. “I told them you had a fever and were pretty out of it. Said you’d be back Monday.” 

Stiles frowned, tearing his eyes away from the book. He’d tease Derek about it later. “What day is it today?” 

“Friday.” 

Derek stepped hesitantly into the room and handed Stiles the mug. It was filled to the brim with milk. Strawberry milk. Stiles smiled, feeling a little shy, and took it, wondered if Derek Hale was the type that drank strawberry milk now or if he just spent the last hour in some supermarket debating whether or not to add it to his basket. 

Stiles kind of hoped it was the second one. Derek Hale in a supermarket; now there was an image. 

“So,” he grinned, not entirely certain if this was about to slide on down to awkward territory or not. Derek was back. He was in DC. The last Stiles heard, he was in France. “I half passed out in some coffee shop and you just happened to be passing by? I always knew you were a creeper Derek, but really?” 

Derek raised an eyebrow - ah, there we go - and Stiles dropped his grin, looked down instead. He was wearing a jumper over the t-shirt he had been wearing yesterday. It was soft and smelled strongly of coffee. Inhaling, Stiles briefly wondered if it was possible to breathe in the caffeine. He’d never been a coffee drinker - milkshakes all the way - and if he had to stare down one more cup just to stay awake, he didn’t know what he was going to do. 

“Actually, you passed out in the coffee shop where I work,” Derek said, causing Stiles to look up so fast he practically fell out of the bed. The picture of Cora went flying and what once was very delicious strawberry milk, he was sure, was now a giant pink stain on Derek’s bed. 

“Um,” he said, trying to look more sad about Derek’s sheets rather than the loss of his milk. He had no doubt he failed. “Oops?”  

Derek’s other eyebrow rose to meet his first, before he ducked his head and smiled. Stiles had the strongest, stupidest urge to say, please never stop doing that for as long as you live. 

“Is it that unlikely for me to be working in a coffee shop?” Derek asked, looking up again. Stiles couldn’t read his face but somehow he knew he wasn’t waiting for a punch line. 

“Derek Hale: barista.” Stiles tried it out on his tongue. “I like it. Do you threaten people with your teeth when they’re rude to you?” He waggled his eyebrows and winked, lying back down more fully on the bed. “Wait. Do you help bake the pastries?” Shifting to the other side of the bed, he buried his nose in what he assumed was Derek’s pillow and shamelessly breathed in. Whatever, he could blame it on his lack of sleep later.  

Derek laughed, light and lovely, and Stiles was a little more than instantly smitten. Then again, he’d always been just a little instantly smitten with Derek, hadn’t he? Even when he used to fantasise about punching him in the face. 

“No,” Derek said, “but I do spit in their drinks.”

“Classy.” Stiles nodded slowly and tried to remember the last time he saw Derek look like this: happy, like his whole life hadn’t fallen apart when he was sixteen. It was sad that the answer to that was never. Even through all the fucked up weirdness during the past four years, Stiles at least had had snatched moments of normality. 

He wondered if Derek had gotten to see the new Spiderman movie yet.  

“Hey, Sourwolf?” he asked. “What are you doing until Monday?” 

~

Stiles still didn’t sleep. 

He didn’t think it would be as easy as having someone to sleep next to, having someone to hold and be held by. But it was easier. When he felt like screaming, Derek was right there. He listened to him, listened to every thought that entered his head and poured out of his mouth - the good, the bad and the ugly. 

Derek opened up the coffee shop for him sometimes and made him hot chocolate and talked more than Stiles had ever heard him talk; he told him about his year travelling around the world and the three months he stayed with Cora. He talked about his family. He told him how Isaac was getting on and that having this job was the first time he felt good about himself. He talked for an hour, one night, about the youth group sessions his colleague ran for troubled kids and how he sometimes went along, fully shifted, and let the kids pet him. 

“I knew you secretly liked belly rubs,” Stiles accused him, spraying his buttered scone everywhere. Derek grimaced. “I had a dream about that once, the night you left.” He felt his cheeks flush and watched as Derek blinked and did the same, before reaching out and lacing his fingers through Stiles’.

It was the first time Derek had ever held his hand and Stiles had to admit, it was a pretty damn good feeling. 

“Sometimes I dream of you, too,” Derek said, biting his lip. “I dream of you a lot, actually.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re usually talking me ear off about something.” 

Stiles laughed. “Hey! How do you know that wasn’t really me? I could have been trying to reach out to you, dude!” 

The air went tense - Stiles had already told Derek about the dread doctors - and they stared at each other. 

“I suppose,” Derek said, shrugging, “but….”

“But?”

Derek took a deep breath and averted his gaze. “But in my dreams you were always….you always returned my….” He frowned and stood up, going to make himself another piece of toast. Stiles had learned that Derek was a bit of a toast fiend, especially when there was chocolate spread on the go. He no longer had that ridiculous six pack, either, Stiles had noted fondly. Not that he still didn’t look like a Greek God. 

“I always returned your what?” He was almost afraid to ask, in case it wasn’t what he thought, in case it was what he thought. “You know, Derek, we’ve always had a pretty solid relationship based on mutual exchange. You save me, I save you. I’m cool with, you know, carrying on that….tradition.”

Derek’s eyes lifted to meet his, toast half smothered in something that smelled like chocolate and hazelnut. It’s going to get cold, Stiles thought distractedly, staring at it. Getting up and walking over to him, Stiles leaned across the counter that Derek was standing behind - he looked like an adorable little kid, like he was hiding, hunched over. He took a bite of the toast. 

Derek zeroed in on the chocolate spread now sticking to Stiles’ chin and blinked, like he was realising something. 

“You know I’m not ready for something…..like that, right?” he asked, looking away. His hands were shaking a little. 

“Well, neither am I,” Stiles said, climbing on top of the counter, until he could put both hands on Derek’s shoulder. “All I’m asking is for someone to make me hot chocolate when I can’t sleep and for that person to sign a contract saying a full night of spooning is not an unreasonable demand.” He took in Derek’s tired eyes, the nervous slope of his mouth, and wondered how much better Derek had really gotten. How far away he really managed to get from it all. 

“I’d do the same for them,” he continued. “I mean, I don’t have a fancy ass coffee shop or anything, but I always keep ice cream in the freezer. Plus, I have all the Harry Potter movies on DVD and a kick ass Star Wars blanket.” 

Derek slowly looked up, smiled at him. The tips of his ears were pink. “And how do you feel about versatile spooning rights?” He coughed. “Is that in the contract?” 

Stiles pretended to think about that, even though it was a lost cause. He knew Derek would hear the way his heart was thumping treacherously away at the prospect. “Okay but I get to be the big spoon, like, at least seventy percent of the time. I like being held okay? I do but holding you -” Stiles froze, eyes widening. “Uh, I mean….holding someone. Holding someone has always appealed to me more.”

Derek narrowed his eyes and held up the toast for Stiles to take another bite. Stiles wasn’t sure if feeding him was a werewolf thing or a Derek thing, but Stiles found he liked it. It had been happening a lot lately. 

“Does that mean I’m going to have to suffer you talking in my ear seventy percent of the time? Because if you are, I’m going to have to invest in a pair of ear muffs.” 

Stiles smacked him across the shoulder and Derek grinned. 

“Just kidding,” he said. 

Sudden drowsiness swept over Stiles then - he was never going to catch up on all his lost sleep -  and he rested his forehead against Derek’s. It felt nice, really nice, and a terrifying thought came into his head. Terrifying because it didn’t even scare him that much: I could do this forever. 

“Let’s go home?” Derek asked, cautiously. 

It took them both a minute to realise what he had said. 

Stiles grinned, offering Derek the last bite of toast. “Yeah, Mr Barista Man, home sounds like a good place to start.”