#like it is morally wrong of my boss to say no overtime when there is more work to do than can be done in a 40 hour week

[lesbegays]

working for a very small company with a boss and job i like has in some ways made me a worse socialist and in other ways made me even more firm in my socialist beliefs

[droidrights]

Hello~~

So. I was thinking about cal instead of studying (again) and got curious about his morals. Like we know its fucked up but is it fucked up or nonexistent? Its obvious that he doesnt get things anymore like you said, for example when they were at the bar where mc lost her leg, and he killed the guys who laughed at him because he was ginger and the mc was mad but he didnt understand why. So i suppose he will memorise instances where the mc got mad or disapproved something.

Anyway. My question is if we put two men in front of him or their picture and what they had done, like they both killed and saved people but for different reason like. How we can differentiate between killing and killing or when someone steals but only because they had no choice cus theyre poor and when someone just goes and robs a bank for fun. Im not sure im making sense 😅

So. Can cal tell the difference without the mc telling him, only by himself or would he think along the lines of what would Mc think of this? What HER answer would be? Like can he recognise good or bad or he simply deems someone bad by what his "bosses" say is bad?

I hope my question is understandable :"D

Have a nice day ❤️❤️

I DID have a nice day and it’s because of the awesome asks you sent me!

This is a great question! And I think the answer is … complicated?

I think Cal does know what is widely accepted by others as right and wrong. I just don’t think the difference matters to him?

Like he definitely started out as the sweet lovely little padawan we saw in the game and he had a pretty defined moral compass then it just got lost along the way to becoming an inquisitor. So I guess it’s an active decision on his part to be indifferent and overtime his idea for what passes as someone who deserves it and someone who doesn’t are just really different than the average person’s.

I also think that for a long time his own opinion on who “deserves” to live or die wasnt really up to him and that colors a lot of his moral stances now. He got sent on missions and he completed them and that was that.

Bottom line I guess is that he just doesn’t care? Now he cares more about doing better according to MC’s standards of who gets the sword and who doesnt. And she definitely knows the difference between stealing bread to feed your family and being an evil scumbag.

I hope this made sense and answered your question at least a little! 😅

Thank you for the thought provoking ask!

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 34

A/N: Soooo this is the penultimate chapter.  This feels very bittersweet to post because we all know how the series turned out.  Anyway, other stuff happens to, but the series...🥺

August 8th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was thinking about last night.  Again.

And she shouldn’t be.  She was having breakfast with the team for God’s sake.  Everyone was eating pancakes or waffles or avocado toast and she was fantasizing about William fucking her raw from behind and watching him through the mirror.  She could swear she still felt his slick and hard cock inside of her.  She could swear she still felt him pounding her from behind and grabbing on to her mouth to silence her and—

“Aberdeen.”

—her whimpering and trying to be quiet and the same time—

“Aberdeen.”

—and his low, guttural grunts as he fucked her and made her be quiet and—

“Aberdeen!”

She snapped out of it.  She looked to her right to see Jason looking at her like she was crazy.  “Your phone is ringing,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world – because it was.  The thing was blaring out for God knows how long and she was just sitting there.

She grabbed it, not bothering to look at the number, and brought it to her ear.  “Hello?”

“So what did the boys get up to last night?”  Alec Young’s voice asked from the other end.  

That brought her back down to earth.  She got up out of her seat and made her way towards the doorway, where it would be much quieter.  “What did they get up to?” she feigned ignorance.

“You can’t tell me that after a win like that all they did was go to bed,” he said in a tone of voice that made Aberdeen want to punch him through the phone.  She couldn’t believe he was the one responsible for editing her piece, that it was him who was a deciding factor on whether or not she got a job with the magazine.  “Did they sneak girls into the hotel?  Prostitutes?  Did they get one for Matthews for scoring the overtime winner?”

Aberdeen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  William Nylander fucked the president’s assistant.  They’ve been carrying on a secret affair for the better part of a year now and nobody has a fucking clue.  They were so desperate for each other that they broke every bubble guideline so he could fuck her raw in her bathroom as she bent over the marble vanity.  How’s that for a scoop?  “With all due respect, Alec…”

“Aberdeen, come on.”

“I’m trying to take the more balanced approach, the more human side, the—”

“There’s gotta be something!”

She sighed again.  She knew he was more or less her editor and all, and her job depended on him, but she was on her last nerve.  “You want something?  Okay, here’s something.  Two days ago Courtney Muzzin and her daughter Luna stood outside of the Royal York Hotel with a giant sign on Bristol board that said ‘We love you, Dada’ and aimed it directly at Jake’s window,” she said, the edge very evident in her voice.  “I can’t lie, Alec.  I can’t just make up stories about drugs and prostitutes and whatever else you think is going on here.  They can fucking sue me.”

“Aberdeen, we need a story.  If you don’t give us the story, you’re not working at Toronto Life.  That’s it,” he said, hanging up.  

Aberdeen felt her chest tighten.  She couldn’t do it.  She couldn’t go back on her morals.  She couldn’t just…betray her friends.  Her family.  Her work family, but her family nonetheless.  She had to stay resolute.  She was going to get this job, and she was going to get it whether Alec approved of her story or not.  She was going to get it whether Alec wanted her there or not.  She was going to get it whether he liked her writing or not.  She was going to prove him wrong.  She was going to do it on her own terms, with her own talent.  She was going to bank on herself.

When she got back to her seat, Jason was still eating his breakfast.  She picked up her fork and ate a piece of watermelon before moving on to her yogurt parfait.  “Who was that?” he asked.

She shook her head slightly, signaling that she didn’t want to talk about it.  But when Jason continued looking at her, she knew he wasn’t going to let it pass.  “The guy that’s responsible for editing that article I’m submitting to Toronto Life,” she said.

“What did he want?” Jason asked.

She sighed.  “He wants a story filled with booze and drugs and women, because he’s convinced so many of you are still like that,” she began.  “He thought we would have ordered a stripper or something for Auston last night for scoring his overtime goal.  He doesn’t think Courtney and Luna Muzzin standing outside with a sign about loving daddy is going to sell magazines.”

Jason nodded his head in understanding.  He’d been around hockey for such a long time – he understood completely where Alec got his mentality from.  “And you refuse to write that.”

“It’s not just that I refuse to write it.  I can’t write it.  None of it would be true.  Imagine me writing about you guys with hookers and blow?  I’d get sued!”

Jason chuckled.  “And he doesn’t get that?  How’s this guy an editor for a prominent city magazine?”

“Beats the shit out of me,” Aberdeen shrugged, fiddling around with her spoon.  “But…that’s my issue.  I’ll figure it out.  I’ll write something that will blow his mind and make him wonder why he ever thought he wanted me to write about hookers and blow in the first place.”

Jason smiled.  “Atta girl.”

Jason continued to eat as Aberdeen continued to fiddle with her spoon.  She looked across the room briefly to see William chowing down on some avocado and a piece of toast.  He was scrolling through his phone and, periodically, would look at something Pierre would show him one-third of space away at the table.  Less than ten hours ago his body was pressed up against hers.  Now they were separated by a sea of tables and hockey players.  

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked Jason suddenly.

“Anything,” he didn’t even look at her when he answered.

She hesitated for a second.  “If…I mean…if things don’t go the way we want them to go tomorrow…” she began.

“You mean if we lose,” he interrupted, finally staring her dead in the eye.  “You can say the words Aberdeen.  It’s okay.”

“If we lose tomorrow…I…what should I do?  Like, how should I act?  What should I say?  I don’t want to make you guys even more upset by saying the wrong thing.”

“I doubt you can make anyone on this team upset—”

“Jason.”

He sighed.  He set down his flatware and brought his hands together.  “I think being there physically is good,” he began.  “Like, just being a presence.  Telling the guys you’re there if they want to talk.  Don’t bring it up unless we do.  Some guys are more open.  Others bottle it inside and never want to talk about it.  You have to figure out who’s who in that sense.”

“I just want to be a good…support.  I don’t want to be that person that seems apathetic because I don’t care about hockey as much as you guys.  I know how important this is for all of you.  I know how hard you guys are working to get it done.  I just want to make sure everybody, like…knows that, you know?”

“They know, Aberdeen,” Jason said confidently.  “And I’m not just saying that.  Trust me.  They know.”

***

“How many words do you have now?” William asked through the FaceTime call.  They were lying in bed together.  Virtually.  As always, he was less than 50 feet away in his own bed.  Aberdeen felt cold without his touch, now that she had felt it in the bubble.  It took every ounce of strength and willpower within her not to sneak into his room and beg him to fuck her again.

“I’m at five thousand right now,” she answered.  “I got a call from Alec today.  He’s such a dick.”

“It sucks that you’ll have to work under him.  I mean, if he’s even your editor at the magazine.  He might work in a different department or whatever.”

Aberdeen shuddered at the thought.  Him becoming her boss would be a nightmare.  Beth Zadakis – who Aberdeen originally met with – would be the much better choice in her eyes.  “Here’s hoping he is in another department,” she bit her lip.  “But enough about me, Willy.  How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

“I don’t know…” he said, giving his own shrug.  “I’m not nervous or anything.  I just…I know what I need to do.  I know what we need to do.  We just gotta do it.”

“D’you remember what I told you before we got in here?  That I’ll love you whatever happens?” she asked.  William nodded his head.  “That still stands.  Whatever happens tomorrow, I love you.”

William nodded his head gingerly.  “If we lose…” he began softly, “it’s gotta be, like, a media blackout for at least a week.  Until they make us do those exit interviews or whatever.”

“Deal,” Aberdeen nodded.

“It’s gonna be bad if we lose, Aberdeen,” he warned her.  “You’ve never experienced it before because you don’t watch or whatever, but they’ll be saying a whole bunch of shit—”

“—I won’t listen to any of it—”

“—No, Aberdeen, listen,” he cautioned, his tone of voice more serious.  “They’ll be saying a whole bunch of shit about me.  I didn’t produce, I didn’t perform, I should get traded, blah blah blah.  Same shit, different day.  I’m always the scapegoat.  I just…I know how emotional you got when you read up on everything near my birthday.  I just don’t want you getting upset.  I’ll never forgive them anyways, like in general, but I’ll really never forgive them if they make you cry again.”

“I won’t, Willy.  I don’t – you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I just want to protect you, minskatt.”

“I know you do,” she smiled softly.  “But none of that matters.  All that matters is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

August 9th, 2020

In the end, it wasn’t shitty play.  It wasn’t a patented Leafs Meltdown™.  It wasn’t that they weren’t trying.  It wasn’t even anything bad.

It was just a hot goalie.

That was the most Aberdeen could have asked for, she guessed.  She didn’t really know, because at this point, she was devoid of emotion.  Everything in her was just…empty.  She couldn’t feel a thing.  That was, until, the camera showed a close up of the bench, and she saw Jason hunched over, his head down.  

That was when the tears started.  She couldn’t care less about Kasperi beside him.  It was Jason that she cared about.  Here he was, near the end of his career, signed with his hometown team for league minimum trying to chase his dream of winning a Stanley Cup with the team he grew up watching.  And now, in this wonky season of benched home openers and valued leadership to a stopped and re-started season due to a global pandemic, everything around him came crashing down.  Having to leave his family, his wife, his four daughters, all to chase the dream, all for it to disappear.

“Stop crying,” Brendan said from beside her.  She couldn’t discern his voice.  He wasn’t giving a command.  He wasn’t mad.  He wasn’t angry.  But it was obvious that he wasn’t happy.  He barely blinked as he looked down at the ice, hands shoved in his pockets.

Aberdeen wiped her tears quickly with the back of her hand.  “Sorry,” she said meekly, knowing she was offering absolutely nothing.  

When the buzzer rang and the teams lined up to shake hands, she made her way out of the box, waiting for Brendan and Kyle to follow.  But they didn’t.  She waited and waited and waited but they weren’t coming.  She peeked back into the room and watched as they stood still, looking down at the ice until the last of the team made their way through the tunnel.  Aberdeen realized then that they were staying because the camera was on them.  Of course it was.  The media was going to squeeze every emotion out of the boys until they were shells of themselves.  She bet two of them were being forced into media interviews right now, barely out of their hockey gear.

When they finally made their way down to the locker room, it was eerily quiet.  That’s the first thing Aberdeen noticed – the lack of noise.  It was so different from just two nights ago when they were all screaming and hugging her.  When she walked in behind Brendan and Kyle, and finally saw their faces, she immediately looked for William’s.  He looked so defeated.  So broken.  For a guy who was very apathetic in front of the camera, making it looked like nothing phased him, he was definitely showing his emotion now.  Her breath hitched in her throat as more tears threatened to spill.  After William, she looked for Jason – then she really had to stop the sob.  

She didn’t know if Sheldon had already given his post-game speech.  She was almost sure he did, because Kyle and Brendan took so long, and because she absolutely knew he wouldn’t end the night with what he ended up saying, the only thing she heard him say.  “Pack your bags tonight.  We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

They’d been through a hell of a season.  A wonky start.  A shitty coach.  A coaching change.  A loss to their own Zamboni driver.  A fucking worldwide pandemic.  A bubble.  The media was never on their side.  And—

“Go to the media room, see how the conversations are going,” Brendan said, his voice low.  “Send Morgan and John out as soon as possible, then make sure the media know about their future availability.  We have to speak to the team.”

She furrowed her brows at him.  Why would he banish her from the locker room so he could talk to the team?  “What are you gonna say?”

“What’s it to you?”

He heart froze.  So he was angry.  And he was taking it out on her.  “Fine,” she huffed.  “I thought we were a team, but I guess not.”

***

Nobody ate when they got back to the hotel.  There was no point.  Everybody just disappeared back into their rooms, probably to pack, probably to wallow in their own self-pity for the night until they had to leave tomorrow and face the world, probably to just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours.  Aberdeen knew that’s what she would be doing.

Well, after she got to the bottom of one thing.

“What did Brendan and Kyle say to you guys?” she asked William on the phone.

“I can’t tell you.”

She furrowed her brows – not like he could see her.  “What?  You can’t tell me?”

“I can’t tell you,” he repeated.  “It stays between us.  In the locker room.”

“I…you’re being serious.”

“Of course I am.  It’s…I can’t tell you.”

Aberdeen knew she wasn’t going to get it out of him.  She’d have to give up.  Not that she wanted to.  “Well, I love you.  I’ll always love you,” she said instead, changing the subject.  “I’m sorry things didn’t go the way we all wanted them to.”

“I am too.  This fucking sucks.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door.  She rose up immediately from her bed.  “Please tell me that’s not you,” she said.  “We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“What’s not me?” William asked, confused.

Aberdeen stopped.  She took her phone off her ear.  “Who is it?” she asked out loud.

“It’s me,” she heard Brendan’s voice from the hallway.

She threw her phone dramatically across the room and onto her bed.  She threw it so violently it almost hit the wall.  “Let me get my mask!” she called out, grabbing one from the dresser before hooking it onto her ears.  She took a deep breath before she opened the door.  When she did, Brendan walked straight into her room.  She was shocked.  “You’re coming into my hotel room?”

“Oh fuck it, we’re leaving tomorrow morning,” he mumbled, waving off her concern.  The door shut behind her as she walked into her own room gingerly, watching Brendan pace back and forth.  He stopped when he noticed her.  “I want to apologize for what I said to you today after the game,” he said.  “It was out of line.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“There are just some things that need to be said to the team only Aberdeen.  Meaning the players.  You’re part of the team but it’s—it’s—”

“Don’t worry.  I get it.”

Brendan stopped, taking a deep breath to steady himself.  “For my entire life I’ve wanted this team to be successful.  My entire life.  I was born two years after their last Stanley Cup win.  And growing up, I adored this team.  And when I was a player – it didn’t matter that I was a Red Wing.  I love them, too, but in a different way.  Not the way I love the Toronto Maple Leafs.  And when I was given the opportunity to be the president, I made sure I would never take it for granted.  And I made sure – I made a promise to myself – that I would be the one to see this team to victory.  And every time that we don’t get to that victory, I break that promise,” he said.  Aberdeen understood completely.  “None of…this is about you, of course.  This is about the team.  This is about promises that we make to each other.  Promises that we make to ourselves.  Promises we make to get better, to succeed, to climb that mountain and get to the promised land.  This is about the integrity of our character.  The pride we have in this hockey club, to put on that Maple Leaf every night.”

Aberdeen stayed silent.  Brendan was bearing his soul to her.  Every word he was saying was impassioned and coming directly from his heart.  She didn’t want to speak, because there was nothing she could say.  She watched as he took a few steps forward and put his hands on her shoulders.  “You’re part of this team, Aberdeen.  I think you always will be to these boys.  You were the soul of this team this year.”

She shook her head.  “I don’t believe that.”

“I do,” he said confidently.  “I know so.”

“How do you know?”

“Because their soul is hurt right now, but it hasn’t died,” he said.  “It’s still there.  They still have it in them.  Just like you have it in you.”

***

August 10th, 2020

Aberdeen stood absent-mindedly off to the side, the bus being loaded with the team’s bags.  Some of the boys had already gotten on the bus.  She should have gotten on too, but her feet were planted firmly in place for some reason.  

Fifteen days in the bubble.  And now it was all over.

“Hey Aberdeen?” she heard Auston’s voice from behind her.  She spun around to face him.  “I’m sorry we couldn’t do it for you.  Like, for your story.”

***

Kasha came to pick up Aberdeen.  She brought Minerva in her carrier, who kept meowing at the sight of Aberdeen.  Aberdeen took her out and cuddled her against her chest, giving her tons of kisses.  

She watched Tyson do the same to Ralph, wondering if he’d still be on the team next year.

***

When she and Kasha got back into her apartment, Aberdeen went straight to her bed.  She plopped down dramatically and only moved when she felt Kasha standing in the doorway.  “D’you want to go out?  You finally have some freedom,” Kasha suggested.  “We can go for tacos, for brunch…”

Aberdeen perched herself up on her elbows.  “Do you think I’m the soul of someone?  Or something?”

Kasha looked at her strangely, but answered the question nonetheless.  “I definitely think you have the capacity to be for someone.  You know I believe in the concept of soulmates.  Why do you ask?”

“For who?”

Kasha shrugged, but a small smile appeared on her face.  “For William.”

“Why William?”

“Because from the few times I’ve seen you to interact together – like last year, and then at the Halloween party – he looks at you like you already are his soul.”

***

“You should come over for lunch one of these days,” Jason said to her on the phone.  “Jen would love to have you over.  I’m sure the girls would love to see you too.”

Aberdeen smiled into the phone.  Jason Spezza was deflecting.  This was not part of their original conversation.  “When you’re okay, maybe I will.”

“I’m always okay,” he defended.

“You’re not right now,” she said definitively.  There was no beating around the bush.  “But you will be.  At your own pace.  And when you’re good to go, I’ll come over.  And you better cook and let me and Jen sip margaritas in the backyard.”

Jason laughed his infamous laugh.  “Deal.”

***

August 11th, 2020

“Media blackout?” Aberdeen asked William on the phone.

William nodded his head on the FaceTime call.  “Media blackout.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow when Kasha’s back at the office,” she said.  “We can cuddle.”

“That’s all I want to do right now, to be honest.”

***

August 12th, 2020

With Kasha going into the office, Aberdeen was able to sneak away to William’s.  He let her in easily, without much fanfare, and he enveloped her in a hug and brought her down with him on the couch as they lay their together, every limb wrapped around the other.  Aberdeen was running her fingers through William’s hair soothingly as his head lay on her chest.  Hockey was still on in the background.  Alex was still playing, and William wanted to support him.  Aberdeen already knew he’d be calling his brother after the game.  

“I love you so much,” she whispered out of nowhere.  She just felt the need to say it.

William looked up at her.  “I love you too.”

“That last night at the hotel, Brendan told me I was the soul of the team this year,” she said.  His comments were still on her mind.  “Do you think that’s true?”

William nodded his head.  “I do.  I think you’re my soul, too.”

***

The kisses were slow at first.  Needy.  William needed her.  He needed to be comforted.  His brother wasn’t around to talk to, and it was the middle of the night in Sweden so he couldn’t call his parents, although Aberdeen was sure they would have picked up the phone if they saw it was William calling in the middle of the night.  So until he could speak to his brother and his parents, Aberdeen would be there for him, kissing him as they lay facing each other side-by-side on his couch.  There to console him.  There to comfort him.

They kissed for a long time.  Such a long time.  It told Aberdeen that William needed that intimate physical contact, not just flat-out sex, and that he was savouring his time with her as much as she was with him.  But who was she kidding?  He always did.  He always savoured his time with her.  It didn’t matter where, or when, or how, or how much they’d lied to the people around them to get some alone time.  By the end of it she was sure her lips here swollen and red, and when she opened her eyes to look at his, his were too.  So puffy.  So soft.  In their glory.

She felt his hand dip beneath the hem of her pants and grab the flesh of her ass to squeeze it.  She hooked a leg over his torso and could feel his growing erection graze her thigh.  She shivered at the feeling, digging her nails into his bicep.  

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry we couldn’t do it for you and your story.  I won’t forgive myself if you don’t get that job,” he revealed.

“Shhhhh…” she cooed, cupping his face and kissing him.  “What did I tell you before we got into the bubble, hmm?  I love you no matter what happens in there.  I love you Willy.  I always have and always will.”

“I love you too, minskatt.  I need you.  Do you need me?”

Aberdeen’s heart fluttered at his question.  She nodded her head automatically and gave him a quick kiss.  “I need you.  I’ll always need you.”

With their pants and underwear pushed down their legs, William slipped himself into her slowly, watching the look on her face change and hearing the long sigh escape her mouth.  This is what he loved most about their physical relationship.  They could do anything and it would feel like the best time every time.  They could have regular sex.  They could explore a new position.  They could have rough, passionate sex like that night in the bubble.  They could have close, intimate sex like right now.  Each time was incredible.  Each time he loved more than the last.

Each time, William realized how much he needed Aberdeen, and how much Aberdeen needed him.  They needed each other.

“You feel so good, Willy,” Aberdeen’s voice brought him back down to earth.  The pure euphoria in her voice was music to his ears.  “I need you, Willy.  I need you.”

He moved his hips to thrust into her, and so did she.  Their bodies moved together as they always did, and the pleasure they experienced together was paramount to absolutely anything and everything.  

After they both came together, William squeezed his arms around Aberdeen and pressed her against his body even closer than they were before.  He nestled his face into the crook of her neck, dragging his lips along her skin until he got to her ear.  “I need you more than anything,” he whispered.  “You’re my entire life.  You’re my entire soul.”

She believed him.

***

August 25th, 2020

Aberdeen was with Camden when the news broke.  She was spending the day at her parent’s house because Camden had admitted he missed her, so Aberdeen decided to spend the day.  They played video games.  They watched Brooklyn 9-9.  They went on a bike ride around the neighbourhood with masks on and stopped at a local shop to grab some smoothies.  It was perfect sibling bonding time while Siena slaved away in their bedroom studying God knows what for God knows which course come September.  

“Did you see the news?!” Camden asked as he emerged from the smoothie shop with both their smoothies.

“See what?” Aberdeen asked, thinking the worst.  

“Kasperi was traded!” he announced as he handed her the mango smoothie she requested.  

“What?!” she shrieked, grabbing her phone out of her back pocket.  She hadn’t looked at it since they went on the bike ride about an hour ago, because she wanted to spend actual quality time with her brother.  Now, she saw that she missed the alert from the Leafs app on her phone, and a slew of texts from Willy.

“Yeah.  He got traded to Pittsburgh—”

kappy just called me he got traded to pittsburgh just got told r u around? can i come see u? ok so ur not at ur place… ur not at Scotiabank r u?

“—for a first-round pick.”

“A first?!” she shrieked again.  She was shocked.  Shocked.  She didn’t know how Kyle was able to finesse a first-round pick for Kasperi fucking Kapanen.  Her mind was in three places at once as she thought about the trade, her brother standing in front of her, and William’s texts.  For all his faults and questionable judgement in girlfriends, Kasperi was one of William’s best friends.  She knew it would hurt William to see him leave.  That’s probably why he was trying to find her.

I’m at my parents hanging with Cam today.  He missed me.

i know

You know?????

“Cam, I think we should head home,” she said, hopping back onto her bike.

Camden’s eyes lit up.  “Why?  Do you think Brendan Shanahan will want to call you?”

He was so cute.  To think she was important enough that Brendan Shanahan would call her about a trade.  She let him think so.  “He might…” she said, opening the Leafs app on her phone.  “Let’s just go.  You lead the way.”

It wasn’t the smartest choice, but as they biked through their neighbourhood back to their house, Aberdeen read the statement on her phone.  PRESS RELEASE -- -- -- The Toronto Maple Leafs announced today that the hockey club has completed a trade with the Pittsburgh Penguins, acquiring the Penguins' first round selection in the 2020 NHL Draft (15th overall), forward Evan Rodrigues, forward Filip Hallander and defenceman David Warsofsky in exchange for forward Kasperi Kapanen, forward Pontus Aberg and defenceman Jesper Lindgren.

So Pontus was leaving too.  Another Swede.  Aberdeen wondered if William had a strong opinion on him leaving as well, but she doubted it.  She thought about what was going through William’s head as she and Cam continued their bike ride home, but as they turned on their street and they got closer to their house, she noticed a car parked on the street.  A very familiar looking car.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ…” she mumbled to herself.  

“Whose car is that?” Camden asked, speeding up.  “Don’t people know they’re not allowed over houses anymore?!”

Aberdeen mentally prepared herself as she and Camden walked through their front door.  And that’s when Aberdeen saw him: William sitting on her couch with her mom, mask dangling from his wrist as he held a mug of tea.  “There you two are,” her mom smiled.  

“WILLIAM!” Camden screamed as he kicked off his shoes.

“Hey buddy,” William smiled as he watched Camden’s face light up.  He watched as Camden readied himself to run over to him for a hug but then stopped himself.  It made William sad, knowing Camden couldn’t do what he wanted to do.  “How are you?”

“I’m good!  I’m – do I have to get my mask? – are you staying for dinner – are you going back to Sweden? – are you—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down young man,” Orla smiled at her son.  “I don’t think you’ll be needing your mask.  And yes William will be staying for dinner—”

“—YES!—”

“And no, I’m not going back to Sweden.  I don’t want to have to quarantine again.  I’m done with quarantining,” William added.

“Me too!” Camden said, exasperated, as he plopped himself down on the couch next to him, sipping dramatically on his smoothie.  “I haven’t seen anybody besides these guys since March!”

***

Aberdeen was sure William was a near-perfect human being when it came to interacting with Cam.  That afternoon saw them playing street hockey and video games, with Aberdeen even leaving them alone together while she helped her mom make dinner.  When Mirza came home from work and saw William, his face lit up.  Even Siena was happy to see him, despite her stress from studying. 

Maybe this would make it easier for when she had to tell everyone that they were dating…eventually.

William promised to drive Aberdeen home, which meant Orla and Mirza could escape into their room to sleep and not worry.  They gave Cam special permission to stay up well over an hour passed his bed time.  It was only when Aberdeen told Cam that he needed to get ready for bed that she and William had their first moments of alone time the entire day he spent at the house.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t talk about the trade.  I know you’re probably feeling like shit right now seeing your best friends being shipped off.  Are you okay?” she asked as they lay on opposite ends of the couch.  

“Much better now,” he said, his voice soft.  “I love your family.  They make everything better.”

She smiled.  “I think Cam just has so much energy and asks so many questions that it takes your mind off of it,” she giggled slightly.

“That’s part of it, but it’s more than that,” he said.  “It’s your mom’s cooking and your dad’s smile and Siena’s, like, stares.  It’s Cam being so cute.  It’s this house and the vibe, like at Christmas.  It’s everything.”

Aberdeen couldn’t keep the smile off her face.  “For what it’s worth, they love you too.”

“Do you think we’ll have a family like this?”

Aberdeen would have frozen if she was uncomfortable with the line of questioning and what William was insinuating.  But she didn’t, because she wasn’t.  She nodded her head before reaching between their bodies to tickle his fingers with her own in a small, unnoticeable sign of intimacy.  “I do,” she said softly.

“I love you, Aberdeen.”

“I love you too, Willy.”

“Aberdeen?” Cam’s voice suddenly rang out as he walked back into the living room with his pajamas on.

Their hands separated quickly.  “What is it, Cam?” she asked.

“I saw your name all over hockey Twitter.”

Both Aberdeen and William shot up.  “What do you mean?” William asked.

“What the hell are you doing on hockey Twitter, Camden?” Aberdeen asked sternly.  “You’re twelve.”

“Joey at school has an account and he shares it with me!” he said, as if that would make Aberdeen calm.  It just fuelled her anger and made her want to punch a twelve year old boy named Joey.  “It was because Saylor Greene talked about you.  Who’s Saylor Greene?  Does she work with you?” Camden asked.

Aberdeen’s heart fell into the pit of her stomach.  William jolted off the couch and typed something into his phone as he walked outside.  “Give me your phone,” she held her hand out at her brother.

“But Aberdeen—” he watched William leave to go outside.

“I said give me your phone now,” she repeated.  

Camden handed it over.  She began to scroll through the screen to see the tweets he saw, and read what he’d just read.

@leafsbabe34: saylor greene is having a meltdown on her twitter about the leafs. she’s a psycho

@coolcoolcool: good luck to kasperi Kapanen and his psycho girlfriend in pittsburgh.  Pens PR never ever puts up with this type of bullshit so it will be interesting to see what happens to her.  Good riddance.

@amandaaalove44: she brought so much drama to Toronto…bye bye saylor!

Okay…innocent enough.  Aberdeen still didn’t like Camden reading all of this but she didn’t see any mention of her name.  How the hell was she being dragged into this?  She scrolled some more, reading much of the same tweets, and then she saw it.

Aberdeen’s stomach was in knots as she read all the tweets, all the insinuations, and all the outright accusations.  Saylor was naming her without naming her.  Any hardcore fan would probably know who she was talking about.  Hockey twitter would definitely know thanks to the Blueprint birthday video.  She felt sick.  She felt sick as she saw Saylor’s replies to everyone’s tweets, calling them out and being downright rude to people she didn’t even know.  She was sick as she saw fans commenting on the situation and bringing her name up because they knew it was her.  

“Aberdeen?” Camden’s voice was soft, confused, as he watched his sister furrowing her brows at his phone screen.  She looked at him.  “I’m sorry I was on hockey Twitter.”

“You have to promise me to never go on there again,” she said.  “I mean it Cam.”

He nodded his head.  “I was just trying to see what they were saying about William.”

She inhaled.  “Now you really can’t go on there again.  Not until you’re thirty.”

“Sixteen.”

“Deal.  Now come here,” she extended her arms.  

Camden went in for a hug.  “Where’d William go?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said.  “Let me hug you in silence because you’re gonna become a teenager one day and you won’t let me do this anymore.”

Her phone buzzed from beside her.  Brendan’s name flashed atop of a text message.  I’m taking care of it.  And as she continued to hug Cam, she could hear William’s voice vaguely from outside on the deck.  “This is twice now with a girl you’ve dated.  TWICE!!!!!”

***

August 26th, 2020

“How many words do you have left?” William asked as he massaged Aberdeen’s shoulders.

“I’m just editing,” she said, reaching her hand over and placing it on one of his.  “I’ll be done within the hour.  I promise.”

William bent down to give her a quick kiss.  “You got this.”

***

To: Alec Young [young@torontolife.com] Cc: Beth Zadakis [zadakis@torontolife.com] Bcc: From: Aberdeen Bloom [aberdeenbloom@gmail.com] 23:15     08/25/2020

Hello Alec and Beth,

As requested, here is my 10,000-word report on the NHL Bubble experience.  Please note that I have also included photos to accompany the text.  I have received express approval from those in the photos that they can be used for this article.  If you would like me to send proof of permission, please let me know.

I hope you enjoy my work and choose it for publication in Toronto Life.  I understand that the article may, perhaps, be a departure from what was expected.  However, I believe the work speaks for itself.

Best, Aberdeen Bloom

***

August 27th, 2020

“So what happens now?” William asked.

“We wait,” Aberdeen said, her breath shaky.

[miyomiikonran]

Burn the Witch Personal Review

I know how this sounds, especially I never did smth like that, so just pls treat it more like bunch of thoughts and opinions on this new title from long-term fan of Bleach rather than some professionally done review. I watched all three episodes and for now I didn't have much time to read the manga (I have a lot of stuff to read for my studies so ;;") so I just went through stuff written on fan wiki. So beware! Spoilers ahead!

So anyway, new title from Tite Kubo. I could not know who's the author and I still would've guessed who it is. It has such a familiar vibe for me, it's a lot like Bleach for me in terms of humor, dialogues, character interactions and so on. Backgrounds also have this kind of similar vibe but I can't tell what's exactly causing it cus I'm no artist. Kubo in his glory days always had great backgrounds so that's all I'm able to say. I think he catched some breath after Bleach's ending and came back with new energy, so his skills are back too.

About characters. I'm glad he did two main female characters this time, even though both Noel and Ninny annoyed me through most of these ~60 minutes. I'm gonna say that's how it usually is before you get to know these characters better. Balgo annoyed me the most because he's typical perverted guy (which I'm really tired of) but with sweet dumny appearance (I'm here for it) so we'll see where will this character go further. Ninny's idol type, so I wasn't really excited at first, but I really liked her interactions with Macy, so I see chances for future development. Kinda the same with Noel and Balgo, they have some chances to get better through their influence on each other. Noel is kinda boring on her own most of the time, but her drive for money is sooo relatable for me right now.

My absolute favourite for now is Osushi, which kinda amused me, cus it's complete opposite compared with how I reacted to Kon at first, who also was sort of mascot in Bleach. I think Kubo has a thing for "seems cute but can kill you" type of mascot...

Let's adress the elefant in the room now. It's the same damn universe as Bleach. It blew my mind completely since I read about this series. It's the same universe (12 years after the war) and it has witches and dragons! Don't get me wrong, tbh I think it could work, it makes sense in it's own twisted kind of way. I just wish we were given any clues about existence of other "reverse worlds"/Soul Societies before this title came out. Cus it makes sense when you think about it. For me it looks like each country/culture (cus idk if each country wouldn't be too much) could have it's own kind of reverse world coexisting with human world, with it's magic, creatures and rules rooted in it's history, culture and beliefs. That's why suddenly we have these european-looking dragons and completely different approach to them- rather than kill them, humans are using them for their own gain, which for me makes sense for country that started industrial age and was first capitalistic-kind of system in the world. Obviously they would be like "ey, it's kinda a waste to kill them, maybe we could use them to make our life easier?". In Bleach it was all more about restoring and keeping balance between worlds, moral duty, honor and strict rules which makes sense (at least for me) in japanese society. Same with Shinigami and their powers. Other stuff like Quincy and Arrancars kinda throw off this kind of logic but well, I'm just trying to find some sense in this madness.

How's the plot then going, in such weird curricumstances? For me it could easily defend itself as independent idea and separate universe. If someone didn't knew Bleach and watched this I'm pretty sure it would be viewed almost the same for now. Will it have more connections to stuff we know from Bleach? Idk, I hope so, cus if not then it's just kinda using the nostalgia left by previous series. This world is surely builded the same, we have two coexisting worlds, one with common humans and the other with people being able to see and fight supernatural beings that endanger both of these worlds. We have the same kind of structure of power as well, at least for me. Wind Bind is new Gotei 13, this time with symbolism based on zodiak signs. Cool, it would probably suggest 12 divisions, but for now we know about only 8 but once again, we'll see.

Each division has it's own field of work, responsibilities and leader. They all look just as weird and eccentric as Gotei 13 when we first met them, so hello darkness my old friend, especially one lady looks like nazi-wannabe again (Quincy I'm looking at you!). For now we only saw Bruno in action who's division is a fighting type, tasked with extermination of dangerous dragons. He's got very cool design and I adore style of magic he uses because I never saw anyone use spray paint for drawing magical symbols before. Very modern-looking guy and I'm here for it, especially he looks like Grimmjow's younger bro. In general this universe is on our typical technology level with smartphones and stuff everywhere, which is suprising to see having in mind whole traditionally japanese looking enviroment from original Soul Society. About the rest we barely know anything so well. We'll see, once again.

Do I see any clear villain in sight? Nah, not for now. For now we only know about 8 dangerous legendary dragons based on common fairy tales. Interesting concept, but I would like to see some classic villian too. However, we already got the same kind of lesson that Bleach served us- authorities cannot be easily trusted either, as their judgement also can be too strict, cruel and subcjetive without many possibilities to oppose them by avarage person. I smell more future drama in this topic. Especially we once again got elderly boss who looks similar to Yamamoto from Bleach.

One thing that kinda dissapointed me was music. Bleach made me used to very climatic, often dramatic soundtracks, kinda dark-sounding most of the time. Openings were mostly very good too, while here I barely noticed any music at all. Animation didn't really leave me in awe either, only fights seemed interesting and magic was nicely animated. But it's kinda boring compared to very dynamic animation in Bleach. First two episodes made me think of first two arcs of Bleach but it's been over 15 years! ;-;"

In the end, will I watch more? Yeah, for sure. I got very excited to see something new from Kubo, I'm rooting for him and his new series to be less damaging for his health and mental state so this time he'll have means to develop and finish it properly, ideally without more conflicts with Shounen Jump. If he'll play it right with connections to Bleach it might get every good and bring back old fanbase, maybe even make people forgive him completely for Bleach's rushed ending. I see he already got some lessons from that experience, as now he decided to publish chapters in small batches rather than weekly. For me it's good solution that may help him keep his sanity intact. I'm willing to wait if it means he'll get back to his fomer skills and glory because I loved Bleach with my whole heart. If only anime production will be okay with such work dynamic then sure, great. I hope music and animation will get better overtime, maybe with more people getting interested they'll be able to spend more time and effort on it. I'm waiting for more characters to appear for more screentime as well, despite what I said about weird looking leaders of Wind Bind. Kubo proved he can make interesting and unique looking characters before, as well as create engaging villians and fights that fans are waiting for for months or years even. Maybe he even learnt a thing or two from plot holes that happend before. We'll see, I'm hopefull and willing to see where this series will be going c:

[laruna]

— interloper.

characters. lim yuri, min yoongi, kim namjoon.

word count. 21.1k

genre. angst, fluff, friendship, romance, slow burn

warnings. underage drinking, hospitals, car accidents, mentions of family issues

summary. when yoongi feels like an interloper, yuri reminds him that he belongs.

November 7, 2011. Big Hit Entertainment Building, Seoul.

While Namjoon signed his contract until earlier that year, he still had to wait until the dorms were built to move in. Yuri gave Hitman Bang an earful when she found out he had signed him as a trainee when the company didn’t even have fucking dorms yet, but Namjoon fully assured her that it was okay and quelled her rage long enough to stop her from biting the poor old man’s head off.

But it all worked out eventually. Namjoon moved in when the dorms were built back in August, and without the awkwardness that parental presence at his house entailed, Yuri invited herself over as often as possible, practically making the dorms her second home. 

It’s almost a kind of domestic bliss, the way her and Namjoon lived before, cooking for each other and cleaning up the shitty company building until they get so tired they fall asleep on the floor. Sometimes, if she’s really lucky, he’ll offer to let her share his bed. You know, since all the empty beds are going to be occupied by other trainees eventually, and it’d be rude to give someone a used bed, right? Of course.

It’s a Monday when they go to the dorm and actually find the bed across from Namjoon’s occupied.

“...hi.”

The new trainee’s name is Min Yoongi. He’s only a year Namjoon’s senior, but despite the closeness in age, he doesn’t seem willing to bond with them at all. If anything, he barely talks to either of them. According to Hitman Bang, Yoongi is from Daegu, and the only speaks so little because he’s still trying to get used to Seoul’s dialect and is embarrassed that his satoori keeps slipping out.

Yoongi only talks when necessary, like a coworker. They spend the first week or so not talking about anything but work—music, in their case—but even that they can’t be friendly about. Despite their similar interest in hip-hop, Yoongi and Namjoon have very different approaches to rap music. To music in general, really.

Yuri can’t help but feel as if Yoongi has kind of an edge over them. On top of being a year older, he’s also both a producer and a rapper. Yuri is only the former and Namjoon is only the latter, so it’s like he’s got the force of them both combined. She can’t help but feel a little bit small, next to him. 

When they argue about something in the studio, he tends to use this as leverage, telling them to just listen to him because he knows better about this kind of thing. That escalates into arguing, which usually consists of Namjoon and Yoongi yelling at each other while Yuri desperately tries to mediate the situation. The current tally she’s been keeping in her journal shows that Namjoon having won two arguments, Yoongi having won six, and Yuri having successfully distracted them from finishing eleven. She likes to believe that means she’s winning.

Hitman Bang begs to disagree.

He finds out about it one day when he comes to visit her when she’s alone in the studio. The old man never knocks before entering, Yuri notes the invasion of privacy with annoyance. Even so, he kicks it up a notch by glancing over at the journal she’s left open on the corner of her desk. He laughs when he sees the page headed argument wins, pointing to the to the tallies by her name.

“I’m not surprised you’re in the lead,” he laughs. “You’re a menace.” She cringes when she remembers his first impression of her. She wasn’t exactly… tactful about it, but it got the point across well enough. Now that he’s her boss, though, she worries it’ll give him more reason to check up on her, and she would rather selfishly indulge in having some alone time with Namjoon.

“I’m not!” she defends herself, flustered. “I just know better than to waste my time arguing with boys. My points are for when I stop them from arguing, okay? Not having to hear them try to bite each other’s heads off is a win for me.”

“Hm.” He purses his lips at that, regarding her with a look she can’t quite read. She hates how unreadable he is. Her instincts have rarely failed her, but the old man is one of the few people whose energy has yet to come to her.

“Don’t be afraid of fighting,” he tells her after a bout of silence. “They should be able to fight if they’re angry. You should let them fight, let them yell if they’re angry. Even fist fights are fine. It’s okay to fight. Fearing fights only makes conflicts grow bigger.” Yuri shifts uneasily in her seat.

“I don’t like fighting. I don’t like yelling. I don’t like fists,” she says. “I get enough of that at home.” She doesn’t mean for it to slip out, doesn’t even realize that it does until the old man makes that face.

“Oh, Yuri.” He says it more sincerely than she’s ever heard from anyone at the dad age.

“Oh my God, no,” her voice cracks as she speaks. “We’re not doing that. We’re not having, like, a moment. I’m not emotionally prepared for that. I’ll cry and I’ll hate you.” He just nods at that, before awkwardly clapping a hand down onto her shoulder.

“Just remember that you can’t solve everything between them,” he says. “Let them resolve some of that on their own. You won’t be around to resolve things forever.” It feels like a jinx, the way he says it, but she still nods along.

“Okay,” she says. Sounds like simple enough advice to follow.

“And try to befriend Yoongi, okay?” he adds. She wrinkles her nose. That one seems a little harder.

“Okay,” she says anyways. She’ll definitely try.

Namjoon wrinkles his nose when Yuri proposes inviting Yoongi to the Lim household.

“He doesn’t really know anyone else,” Namjoon rationalizes. “Wouldn’t it be a bit awkward for him?”

“That’s the point, dummy,” she says, “I think it’d help him learn to get along with everyone, is all. Including us, hopefully. I don’t know.” Namjoon sighs, if only because she’s been getting harder and harder to say no to these days. He’s not sure why.

“Alright,” he agrees.

Unexpectedly, it’s significantly harder to get Yoongi to agree.

“I barely know you guys,” he deadpans, and Yuri winces. The I told you so look that Namjoon shoots her doesn’t help, and only reminds her of how much she’s always struggled with making friends. 

Hoping to spare her pride, she persists. This is the only opportunity she has to have everybody over in a while—she doesn’t know the next time her father’s going to be working overtime and they’ll have the house to themselves. Knowing him, the old man would probably bite her and Kyunghee’s head off if he came home from work and saw everybody over on a daily basis.

“You can,” she offers softly. “Get to know us, I mean. Please?” 

Yoongi only raises a brow, seemingly unconvinced.

“We have alcohol?” she offers, but the inflection makes it sound more like a question. Namjoon smacks her arm at that, only for her to shoot him a look that says, What? It’s true! Awkwardly, she adds, “Also, um, free food.”

And that’s enough to convince him, apparently.

Yoongi looks starstruck when he first enters the Lim household, suddenly feeling very small. Or at the very least, smaller than usual. He was easily the shortest of the company’s trainees, second-shortest of everybody in the building, towering over only the perpetually tiny Lim Yuri. He almost has a heart attack when said tiny girl takes his shoes from him to put in the garage. It’s her big-ass house, after all. Shit, just being here makes him feel like he should be the one serving her.

Yuri and Kyunghee explain that their father is out working overtime and... doesn’t really say anything about their mom, but the others know better than to bring something like that up unprompted, so they don’t.

The alcohol is present as promised, provided by none other than resident adult, Ikje. Was it illegal? Yes. Was that going to stop any of them? In the words of Donghyuk, ‘hell nah!’

What terrible, terrible influences, Yuri thinks.

She’s never had alcohol before, nor does she plan to have it anytime soon. Not for any legal or moral reasons, mind you—with the amount of alcohol so freely available in her household, she could probably sneak as much as she wanted whenever she wanted. Personally, she just thinks it smells weird and makes her dad act like a crazy person.

She’s only fifteen, but they make it seem fun. They take the thin metal tail of the soju bottle’s metal cap and tighten it into a straight, brittle line. Everyone takes turns flicking it until Kyunghee’s fingers finally break it off. He makes a face when Ikje fills the shot glass in front of him with soju as punishment.  

Yuri doesn’t miss the way he side-eyes Donghyuk before downing it, like he’s trying to make sure that he’s watching. Like he’s looking for approval. She wonders if that’s how she looks at Namjoon. She wonders if that’s how Namjoon looks at her. He’s on her brain too often, these days. Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon. 

They’ve gotten even closer since they made up, and she’s learned a lot more about him since then. He’s still the stickler that refuses to drink in public where he could get in trouble, but he still still laughs and encourages the others’ antics in private, maybe even allowing himself a shot or two. He is also more than the sexless smart dude that she stereotyped him as when they first met, as she has come to learn through his awful, nasty jokes. 

She really was right when she said that he had a whole solar system in his head. Whenever he seems like he could fit into some mold, he immediately proves her wrong. Kim Namjoon is everything.

In contrast, Min Yoongi isn’t much to her at the moment.

When she turns over to look at him, she immediately feels bad for not really paying attention to him the whole night, especially when she was the one to have invited him. The only reason she’s even paying him any mind right now is because he’s just situated himself next to her at the table, as a now drunken Ikje has thoughtlessly occupied his previously-claimed spot. 

Yuri isn’t sure if it’s because he’s not comfortable enough to drink around them yet, but she finds the way he innocently refuses to drink is a little endearing in the same way she found endearing when Namjoon refused to do so back in Hongdae. Instead, Yoongi opts to eat his entire body weight in meat, and is on what she believes is his third plate of fried chicken wings. Respect.

It’s a nice environment, and Yuri really is still adjusting to the fact that this is actually her life. She has a solid friend group that eats and drinks and laughs and plays stupid games together in her house. It’s relaxing. It’s safe. It feels like home. They feel like home.

It’s when they hear her dad’s car pull into the driveway a couple hours earlier than anticipated that makes Yuri remember, oh yeah, home kind of sucks.

In the next few minutes, their living room descends into absolute chaos. Kyunghee moves to swipe all the food and shot glasses off the table and into the sink, Yuri helps load them all into the dishwasher, Ikje is scooping all the soju bottles up into his arms, and everyone else is drunkenly scrambling out the back door. Once they’re all collected, Ikje climbs out the back window, for whatever reason. She blames it on his batshit drunkenness.

Everything is in the clear by the time their dad steps in. The entire scene is inconspicuous enough, Kyunghee passing Yuri plates from the sink to load into the dishwasher like they just ate a nice dinner. They even go so far as to force awkward smiles for their father, but he simply nods at them in acknowledgement before rubbing at his temples and makes his way upstairs, clearly still stressed from work. Kyunghee breathes a sigh of relief when he hears his father’s bedroom door click shut.

“We’re good,” he says, clasping a comforting hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Go lock the back. I’ll finish up the dishes.” Yuri nods, before making her merry way off to follow her brother’s orders. She nearly jumps out of her skin when she’s about to lock the back door and sees a male figure standing ominously in the shadows instead.

She turns on the back light, and lo and behold, there stands Min Yoongi, eating a fucking chicken wing on her back porch. And he has the audacity to look surprised, like she’s the one who shouldn’t be there on her own porch. Heaving a sigh, she steps outside, closing the door behind her as quietly as possible.

“What are you doing here?!” she whisper-yells. “Why didn’t you go with the others?!” It comes off as more aggressive than she intended, but the last thing she wants is for him to get caught and in trouble when she’s the one that invited him over in the first place.

“Namjoon went to sleep over at Donghyuk’s place,” he explains awkwardly. “Ikje went to sleep over at Hunchul’s place and, uh. I wasn’t invited to either. Ikje dropped me off here from the dorms, so… I don’t really know how to get back to the dorms from here.” 

Yuri heaves a sigh. She’s going to have to give everyone a stern talk about the importance of camaraderie and the no-man-left-behind policy. After shooting a quick text to her brother, she uses the house key hanging off of her lanyard to lock the back door.

“I know Seoul like the back of my hand,” she says. “C’mon. I’ll walk you back.” 

“I don’t know how I feel about you walking back home alone so late at night,” he says. “It doesn’t sound very safe for you.” His genuine worry makes her heart warm. Those unexpected moments of sweetness he has always throw her off. Not in a bad way, though. It’s nice.

Unfortunately, the rest of the walk is significantly less nice. They spend the first ten minutes arguing over whether or not it really is safe for her to be walking back home alone so late. He feels bad that she’s out because of him, but she insists that it’s fine as she’s done so many times before. 

“Taking the subway home and walking home are two very different things,” he admonishes her. She resists the urge to roll her eyes at his patronizing tone.

“Relaaaax. I’ve got pepper spray,” she justifies herself. “Also, I hold my keys between my fingers.” She even holds up her hands for emphasis.

“I’m sure you could give a good stabbing if you wanted to,” he snarks. He doubts the tiny girl before him is capable of causing any physical damage, even with a deadly weapon in hand.

“Are you making fun of me?” she whines, and he snorts, because it really should be obvious. “I’m just trying to make sure you get home safely, and this is the thanks I get?”

Yoongi stops in his tracks to think about it for a moment, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he does so. She obviously means well, as annoying as she may be. She’s also his junior, and when he thinks about it, he’s just being mean to her for no good reason.

“Fine. I’m sorry for being an ass,” he relents with flushed cheeks, more for his conscience than anything else. “It’s just that—I just like being alone with my thoughts when I walk, that’s all. You’re not annoying.” 

Or at least, not that annoying, he doesn’t say.

“I know I can be annoying,” she says so matter-of-factly that it makes him feel even worse. “And my brother can be the same way. He likes just thinking, too, so I can just be quiet if that’s what you want. I just want you to get home alive, that’s all.” His eyes soften.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures her. “I can defend myself if I really need to. I was on my school basketball team, you know. Boxing, too.”

“With these noodles?” she says bluntly, reaching over and taking hold of his arm. “And how did you get into the basketball team? Aren’t basketball players supposed to be tall?”

“You don’t have any right to talk about height,” he says, staring down all 150 centimeters of her frame as he snatches his arm back from her. “And my arms are not noodles just because I’m not built like The Hulk.”

“We can’t all be Kim Namjoons, I guess. He’s got biceps for days.” Yoongi gives her an amused look at that, and she flushes uncharacteristically. “Sorry. That was weird. Just don’t—nevermind. I’ll stop talking now.”

“No, by all means, keep going,” he teases. “As long as you don’t mind me telling him about it later.” She gasps at that, smacking him in the arm.

“Oh, so now you want me to talk!” she huffs, smacking his arm. “You will be telling him no such thing, Min Yoongi! You don’t even talk to him about that kinda stuff, anyway!” He laughs as he jumps ahead to get away from her playful smacking, smiling so wide that Yuri can see his gums showing. They’re cute. She decides that she likes them.

“You really like him, don’t you? Namjoon?” he chuckles, far too blunt for her liking. It’s a special kind of adorable the way that she so visibly shrinks at his words, he thinks.

“We’re not dating, I, um—” she sputters. “Is it obvious? That I like him, I mean.”

“Relax,” he says. “It’s not. Really, I don’t think he knows. I don’t think anyone knows except Kyunghee, and I only know because of him.”

“My brother knows?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck that guy.”

Yoongi laughs at her sudden vulgarity. She really got really blunt and fiery when she wasn’t thinking, even with her seniors like him. It makes things feel a little bit more comfortable.

“Relax,” he repeats. “I think he just knows you? Because he’s your brother, I mean. He was like, ‘I just have to tell someone and nobody talks to you so it’s okay.’ So I doubt he’s told anyone else.”

Yuri nods, inclined to agree. She’d never tell Namjoon about Kyunghee’s crush on Donghyuk, and she has enough trust in her brother to know that trust goes both ways. Still, she feels bad that the exclusion Yoongi goes through on the daily is so obvious, even to her socially-awkward brother. But she has her own relationships to worry about.

“Just don’t, like. I don’t know. Interfere in whatever is happening, okay?” she huffs. “You’re the only one who knows, as far as I know. I just… don’t try to plant any thoughts in his head, okay? I want whatever happens to happen naturally. Because he likes me for me, or something.”

“Spoken like a true romantic,” he says sarcastically.

“Oh, stop it,” she whines. Yoongi laughs.

“I won’t,” he assures her.

He doesn’t know when they started walking again, but it feels just a bit less awkward and stilted now. Yuri’s just a couple steps ahead of him, guiding the way. Wrinkling his brows, he stops dead in his tracks.

“This isn’t the right way,” he says. “You take a left here.”

“No?” she says. “The subway pickup is right here.”

“I’m not taking the subway, I’m walking, remember?” he says.

“What?!” she says. She didn’t mind the fifteen minute walk to the subway, but this was too much. “The whole way? The whole walk back to the dorms is like, an hour, Yoongi! Jesus, if I knew we were gonna be walking the whole way, I wouldn’t have come.”

“Well, you don’t have to walk me home if you didn’t want to,” he says. “You’re the one who offered.”

“I didn’t think you were a crazy person!” she huffs. “Why don’t you just take the subway?”

“I spent all my money on chipping in for dinner, how the hell am I gonna afford a subway ticket?” he snorts. “Look, I can walk however long it takes, but I can’t spawn food out of thin air like you guys can.” He tries to say it as casually as he can possibly manage, but the venom still leaks through. Her face visibly drops when he says it.

“Oh,” she says, her voice tiny. “I didn’t… sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Stop that. You’re being weird,” Yoongi says. 

He hates this part. He hates the pity looks he gets from rich people like the Lims who have year-long subway passes their father bought—who, by the way, probably gets to sit pretty in a big office telling other people what to do while overworked laborers like his parents carry the South Korean economy on their backs.

But he digresses. He doubts she’s the kind of person who’d want to listen to his long-winded spiels on the economy or the government or the Gwangju democratization movement, anyway. Really, he doubts she’s type to need or think about funds at all.

Much to his surprise, she does.

“Okay, but like—just to make sure—money for that kinda stuff isn’t an issue for you guys, right?” she asks. “Like, Hitman Bang is feeding you guys?” There’s a level of threat to her voice that reminds him of the story Bang PD told him when he first joined the company, of her marching into his office to make demands for her friend’s safety. Loathe as he is to admit it, the image of it is equal parts genuine and endearing of her.

And maybe that’s why he feels the urge to spill his guts to her so suddenly, then. Maybe it’s also the warm, almost disarming energy in the way she talks to him now that they’re finally speaking one-on-one, despite his previous assumptions. Maybe it’s how innocent her eyes look when they shine under the Seoul streetlights.

“You know, I… I used to make beats out of a studio in Daegu,” he confesses. “Most of the time, I’d get scammed out of them, though. The guys who went in and out of the building would rip my shit off or use them but never pay me back, so like… I didn’t make much. But I stayed there because I still wanted to make music and using the studio was cheaper than buying equipment on my own.”

“Oh,” is all she says, pressing her lips together in a thin line. It’s definitely not the kind of thing Yuri and her brother ever had to worry about, seeing as they were so well-off. Hell, they were giving away the shit that Yoongi was slaving his life away over for free.

“So I couldn’t really pay for food or transport that easy, you know?” he continues, against his better judgement. It’s the first time he’s ever talked to anyone about this, and fuck, it feels so good. He can’t stop himself. “In front of the studio, there was this Chinese restaurant that sold jajangmyeon for 2000 won, and down the street, there was this place that sold janchi guksu for 1000 won, and like… I don’t know. It sounds stupid, but I had to worry about that shit everyday. If I ate the janchi guksu, I’d be able to get the bus and if I ate the jajangmyeon, I’d have to walk 2 hours to get home. So. I don’t know. I’m just stuck thinking like that, I guess. I know it’s not like… a thing anymore, but I feel using public transport still makes me feel guilty.”

“Mm.”

“Sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”

“It doesn’t,” she reassures him. “I’ve just, um, never had to think about stuff like that. I’m sorry you had to, though. It sounds shitty.”

“Not your fault. Don’t apologize for something like that.”

“Okay,” she says, smiling up at him. “Thank you for telling me, Yoongi.”

“Uh. Yeah. No prob,” he says, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. His flush only darkens when she shoves a couple of won in his hand, and he realizes she’s been slowly guiding him in the direction of the subway station this whole time. “Wait, h-hey—”

“No, no, I don’t need it,” she says when he shoves the money back into her hands.

“But—”

“It’s fine,” she assures him, soft smile still gracing her features. “I’d rather not walk all the way back to the dorms. Just take it, you’ll be doing me a favor. You don’t have to pay me back or anything, either. It’s not that much, anyway.”

Yoongi frowns. As much as he wants to argue with her, he’s tired enough as it is, and he has no doubt she’d stay up all night just to stay here and debate this with him. 

“Okay,” he relents. She grins in what he believes to be triumph before gently taking hold of his hand in one of hers and placing the money back into his grasp with the other. She waits outside for the subway take off, like she’s afraid he won’t do as she says unless she sees it happen. When the train lurches to a start, he watches her figure retreat through the glass windows. 

There’s a stark contrast to her soft hands and the fussy way she thrust her money at him, he thinks. 

Lim Yuri is a strange, strange girl.

Namjoon jumps in his seat, startled when Yuri suddenly marches in, plops in to the studio chair next to him, and looks up at him with crossed arms and a very non-threatening scowl on her face.

“I have a bone to pick,” she says, and his brain immediately kicks it into panic mode as he rakes through his mind for anything that he could have possibly done to upset her within the past week.

Namjoon likes to consider himself a considerate person who wouldn’t want to upset anyone, but for some reason this feels different from pure consideration. At the beginning, Yuri was just Kyunghee’s kid sister who happened to help make good music. These days, though, she feels more like a peer than a junior, more like a friend than a dongsaeng. 

For whatever reason he can’t quite pinpoint, her opinion of him has become quite important to him as of late. The idea that he’s done something she disapproves of makes his hands sweat. Even so, he manages to keep his composure, nodding as calmly as he can manage.

“What’s up?” he asks, cringing at the way his voice cracks. The way she sighs as she scoots her chair closer to his amps his anxiety up to eleven.

“You guys need to be nicer to Yoongi,” she says sternly, “You all really excluded him last week. He said you guys all went to each other’s houses after bouncing out last week and he just had nowhere to go. Why didn’t you guys plan for that or something?” Namjoon droops inward, like a kicked dog.

“Sorry,” he says, face hot with embarrassment despite immediately trying to justify himself. “It’s just—it was just kind of weird because nobody is really close to him or anything. The only person he really talks to is Ikje, and they’re not really even friends. We didn’t know how to broach the subject with him, or if he already had plans or anything, you know?”

“You could’ve asked,” she huffs, “I mean, I walked him to the subway station so he could ride back to the dorms, so everything turned out okay in the end. But—”

“By yourself?” Namjoon cuts her off. “That’s dangerous. Did you walk back by yourself, too? That late at night? Something could’ve happened. Why didn’t you ask Kyunghee to do it?” Yuri shakes her head fondly at his worrywart antics, and he sighs in relief when she smiles. It’s a warm reminder that she’s really not that mad at him.

“You sound like my dad,” she giggles, gently shoving at his arm. “Stop that. I’m trying to be mad at you.” He can’t resist cracking a smile back at her.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound apologetic.

“Anyway,” she continues, her tone considerably lighter, “Yoongi and I talked a bit when we were walking to the station, and like… I don’t know. It just made me realize how excluded he really was from everyone else. So can you just talk to him more, or something? And please try to get the other guys to talk to him more, too?”

“Yeah, of course. But for future reference, you could’ve called for a group discussion for this,” he chides, playfully adding, “I thought you were just mad at me for something. I really thought I did something wrong and didn’t know about it. You gave me a heart attack for no reason.”

“Sorry.” She laughs shyly now that it’s her turn to apologize. “It’s just—you’re the only one who really listens to me, you know? I feel like the rest of the guys kinda just see me as a little kid. I mean, I get it, because Kyunghee is my brother and Donghyuk is his best friend and Ikje is old, but like. I don’t know. I don’t feel like they respect me like you do, sometimes.”

Everything she says comes out in that nervous, rambly tone that she uses when she wants to keep things light, no matter how serious it actually is to her. Namjoon frowns.

“Sorry,” he says again. She shrugs.

“Not your fault,” she says, “I think things are gonna get better with Yoongi around, anyway.” Namjoon raises a curious brow at that.

“Oh?” is all he says. Yuri nods, like that’s an answer.

“He’s cool,” she says. “He was a little rude at first, but he got really shy and apologized when I pointed it out. Can you believe it? A man! Apologizing! Men never apologize, Namjoon!”

“I resent that statement.”

“Shut up, man,” she teases. They both chuckle at that. “Anyway. I think that you should try to talk to him, if anyone. I can’t tell you everything he said ‘cause that’s his business, but I will say that you’re both really passionate about music, so I think you’d get along really well.” Namjoon wrinkles his nose at her idealism, not quite sure about that one. 

He supposes she’s sort of right, seeing as music is probably the only thing he and Yoongi can agree on. Even saying that is a stretch, because their very different methods of music-making lent cause to many studio debates. It’d probably be more accurate to say that music was the one field in which they respected each other enough to discuss things amicably. If the conversation wasn’t about music, they spent more time throwing passive-aggressive one-liners at one another than talking about anything else.

“I don’t know about that,” is all he decides to say.

“It can’t be that hard,” she says, pouting. “Yoongi is a nice person. And even if there are things you don’t agree on, you can’t deny that he works really hard. So at least try? For me?”

“That walk to the subway really changed you, huh?” he jokes. He’s expecting her to laugh or roll her eyes or smack him or something, but she nods sheepishly instead.

“He gives me good vibes,” she says like it’s an explanation.

“There you go with your vibes again,” he says. It comes out a bit more passive-aggressive than he’d have liked. 

The atmosphere is a bit too fragile for him to start another debate, but it bothered him that she could dislike people like Hunchul because of the bad vibes she got from him, yet expect everyone to drop everything and befriend Yoongi because he gave her good vibes. She says that it’s just her intuition, but he thinks it’s just an excuse. Even without him saying all this, though, she rolls her eyes when she picks up on his implications.

“Yoongi really is a good guy, okay? I can feel it,” she tries convincing him. “I actually saw him smile, Namjoon. And he never smiles! And it was all cute and gummy! I know he comes off as kinda cold, but he just seems soft underneath it all. I just think he’s a person who’s been through a lot.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on him,” he teases. For whatever, the prospect of that makes him more uneasy than it should.

“I’m being serious!” she whines, smacking his arm. “I’m not asking you to stop fighting or arguing with him or whatever if that’s what you want. Just… try to make up after you fight.”

“It’s just weird,” Namjoon admits sheepishly. “It’s not like I want to fight, so I don’t. Especially if it’s over something stupid. I just try to ignore the little things. But then all those little things pile up into one big pile of resentment until I get mad at him for something stupid and he thinks I’m crazy and I’m still mad at him and it’s weird.”

It sounds stupid when he says it out loud, but the way that Yuri purses her lips and nods in understanding as he speaks makes him feel a little less crazy about it all. She’s always been someone that people just feel comfortable around, and Namjoon himself is no exception.

“It’s not weird,” she reassures him. “Fighting isn’t bad, I don’t think. I don’t love it, obviously, but Hitman Bang said the other week that being afraid of fights is only gonna let stuff like that and make the conflict big and worse. All I’m asking is that you at least talk to Yoongi.”

She looks up at him with those doe eyes when she says it, big and hopeful and pleading, and he can’t possibly bring himself to say no.

“Alright.”

Ever since his talk with Yuri last week, Yoongi has been finding instant ramyeon cups in his desk.

At first, he thinks it’s a one-off thing, maybe Yuri’s apology for saying something she thought was insensitive because he made her feel bad and she needs to soothe her conscience. But once he’s run out, they quickly get restocked when he’s not looking, and he has to admit that it warms his heart. He didn’t expect his words to affect her nearly as much as they currently seem to. 

He appreciates that she doesn’t give him the noodles directly or even say anything about it. It lessens the guilt he already feels from receiving free food from his junior. Yuri doesn’t ask for any thanks or even any acknowledgement, not breaching the topic beyond asking if he’s eaten yet.

Lim Yuri, he’s come to find, is not as bad as he thought. A little naive, to be sure, but nothing like the selfish, spoiled little girl he’d conjured up in his head when he first met her. He feels bad for the image he’d once conjured up of her in his head, the little brat surrounded by shiny, foreign production equipment who was no doubt born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

Lim Yuri is kind and generous and even thoughtful when she wants to be. She feels too hard, so sentimental that she cries when a beat she’d been working on for the past six hours fails to save before her computer shuts off. He tells her she can just remake it, but she sniffles and shakes her head, saying that it just won’t be the same as the last one.

“That beat was, like, my baby, Yoongi,” she explained to him that day. “I can’t just replace it, you know?” He doesn’t quite get what she’s getting at, but nods anyways. Over time, he comes to find those weird antics of hers he once found annoying to be kind of… cute? Even if he doesn’t get them. Even now, as she whines cutely, all he can offer is a couple of comforting pats atop her head. He wishes he had more to give.

Maybe that’s the worst part of being the poor kid, he decides. Everyone is impossibly kind here, and he’s probably making an ass of himself by meeting that kindness with a cold distrust. So he brushes off their niceties knowing that he has nothing to give back in return, and thus is seen in a doubly awful light. He tries to comfort himself with the knowledge that at the very least, that prickly demeanor means that nobody is expecting anything of him.

After all, Yoongi doesn’t do well with expectations. He’s not the son his parents expected him to be, who’d get good grades and go to university in pursuit of a business degree or something before slaving away at a desk from nine-to-five everyday for the rest of his life, nor does he want to be. 

But he has to be something.

Hence why he’s in need of a job. Not one of the office jobs that his parents suggested, mind you, but a simple part-time job to hold him over on top of being a trainee so that he doesn’t feel like a useless moocher. Thankfully, he’s already got it in the bag. As expected, they can’t just hire anyone, so they’ve just got one little test for him before they can officially put him on the employee roster.

What he doesn’t expect is to run into Lim Yuri, numerous plastic bags in hand.

“Yoongi!” she shouts when they make eye contact, running up to him excitedly. He’s never seen anybody that excited to see him, even back home in Daegu. It makes his heart feel a little funny.

“Hey,” he says, “I didn’t expect to run into you. What are you doing? Are you alone?” As annoyed as she wants to be, she can’t help but be endeared by the concern she shows her, the same kind that he showed her back when she walked him to the subway.

“Well… yes. But it’s fine. I’m not a kid, you know? Don’t worry about me so much! Really, you just sound like a grandpa when you talk like that,” she teases, “I bet one of these days I’ll come into your studio and you’ll be sprawled over the floor because your back gave out or something.”

“Hey, Hitman Bang says I’m an old soul,” he jokes, a wry grin on his face. She rolls her eyes.

“That’s just a polite way of saying he’s surprised that you’re this young and already depressed,” she snorts, but he can tell that there’s no malice to it. Still, it’s so unexpected of her that he has to do a double-take before bursting out laughing. 

He doesn’t even notice the pedestrian light flash on until she links her pinky with his and walks him across the street. Surprising even himself, he can’t bring himself to really mind that much. In due time, he’s found himself growing adjusted to her touchiness. It’s kind of nice, when he thinks about it. It makes him feel a little less like an interloper. Makes him feel like he belongs where he is.

“It’s fine!” she assures him. He doesn’t look very convinced. “We’re in broad daylight, Yoongi. I just finished grocery shopping.” She lifts her bag-lined arms up for emphasis. “It was my turn this week. Kyunghee and I take turns with groceries since our mom isn’t around.”

“Makes sense,” Yoongi says. Now that she mentions it, they’d only ever mentioned having to avoid their father whenever everyone came over to the Lim household. He’d always just assumed their mom was out or at work or upstairs—never that she wasn’t around at all. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about it, but it seems too heavy of a topic to pry about right now, especially when he already has somewhere to be.

“What about you?” she asks. “Where’d you come from? Or are you headed somewhere?”

“Work,” he explains. “Sort of. It’s just a part-time job. I haven’t technically started yet, but I’m going to. It’s a delivery thing, so I’m just going to test the delivery bike so that they can see that I actually know how to drive and won’t ride around like a crazy person.”

“Like a motorcycle?” she asks enthusiastically. “A real one? You know how to ride a motorcycle?”

“Yeah,” he says as nonchalantly as he can manage, secretly revelling in how much it impresses her. It’s cute of her, he thinks, the way she’s so wowed by the little things. It’s like every conversation with her is an ego boost.

“Can I come watch?” she asks hopefully, eyes glittering with excitement.

And how could he possibly say no to that?

It’s a little silly, how bouncing-off-the-walls excited she is when they get there. Even the old couple who own the restaurant he’s supposed to be delivering for are enamored with her, wrapped up in conversation about meat buns or something. She really is genuinely sweet with them, so much so that they barely take notice when Yoongi mounts the bike they’ve prepared for him to test-ride.

It’s an older Yamaha model, the ‘YD250’ on the scratched up by what he assumes can only be years of wear and tear. He thinks nothing of it as he revs the bike up to life, but before he can take off and begin driving, he’s cut off by Yuri’s voice.

“Hey, hey, hey!” she calls out. “You should be wearing a helmet!”

“It’s in the box,” the old man explains. 

“I’ve ridden without one before,” Yoongi mutters, resisting to roll his eyes at their safety concerns. And Yuri calls him the old person. Even so, he opens the delivery bike box mounted on the back of and reaches in to grab hold of the big black helmet so that he can put it on. “Happy?”

“Very,” Yuri says, sounding far too pleased for his liking. The old woman chuckles at their banter.

Yoongi takes off in a flash after that, quickly riding around the busiest blocks and most bustling streets a couple times, the image of Yuri’s enthusiastic eyes as he rode away on the motorcycle burned into his mind. It’s nice to be admired so deeply. It’s the only reason he’s still on board with the whole idol thing, after all. He doesn’t want to rely on his parents and their money for everything, though, so right now he just needs this job to help support his training. 

He’s officially got the job, they inform him when he gets back. They also tell him that Yuri has been vouching for him in the mere minutes that he was gone. She ducks her head to hide her blush at that, and he finds her shyness in the moment impossibly cute. It only intensifies when she pipes up.

“Can I join you? On the back, I mean?” she asks bashfully. “I’ve, um, never ridden one before. I just think it’d be neat. You can just take me home, if you want. It’s not super far from here, I think.” In any other circumstance, he’d say yes in a heartbeat, but she’s asking him this question in front of his employers. Thankfully, the two nod when he looks to them for permission.

He can’t but feel kind of mortified by the way the old couple coos at him when he takes off his helmet off and places it atop her head, taking extra care to fasten the buckle tight. 

“Cute,” she says. “But what about you?” It’s the little things like these that remind her how thoughtful and softhearted he is, even if he doesn’t really care to show it.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve ridden without one before,” he echoes his earlier sentiment. She doesn’t look convinced, but the old man speaks up before she can get a word in.

“Get your girlfriend home safe, alright?” he says, clapping his hand down onto Yoongi’s shoulder a little too forcefully. Both him and Yuri send each other an embarrassed glance at his assumption, but neither can find it in them to correct the old man.

“Yes, sir,” is all Yoongi says.

The ride back home is a lot less nerve-wracking than he had expected. Yuri’s soft from head to toe, he notes, like a little human pillow. Against his expectations, the feeling of her form pressed against his back throughout their ride in the city feels more comforting than restricting. So much so that he actually feels a little bit disappointed when they get to her house and she has to let go.

He helps her unload her groceries from the delivery bike box, watching as she takes every bag but one. He reaches in to grab it until he sees what’s inside—ramyeon. The exact kind that spawns in his desk every week. At that moment, he realizes that she left that specific bag inside on purpose.

“This is for me,” he says. It's a statement, not a question.

“Mmhm,” she replies. “It’s my favorite brand. It’s got that little egg brick in there, you know the one? These things are mostly carbs, so I think it’s a good source of protein. Good for building muscles.” He frowns, baffled as to how she can be so nonchalant about all this.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” he says. “I have a job now, so I can buy my own food if I’m ever craving anything beyond those cardboard chicken breasts Hitman Bang gives us.” Yuri giggles at that. “I’m serious. I’ve already gotta pay you back for the last couple of weeks. I’m not sure if my salary is gonna be able to keep up.”

“Hey,” she says gently, staring him down a bit more earnestly now. “You don’t have to pay me back for anything, okay? The ones I get for you are only, like, 1200 won per little cup.”

“Isn’t 1200 won kind of a lot?”

“It’s not,” she assures him. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s fine. It’s really fine. It doesn’t hurt me at all. If it did, I wouldn’t keep doing it.” Yoongi pulls a face, not entirely convinced.

“You may not feel bad, but like—I feel bad.”

“Well you shouldn’t.”

“But I do,” he says. Yuri sighs.

“Yoongi—”

“It’s not just the ramyeon, you know?” he says, staring mindlessly at some spot on the ground. Anywhere but her face. It’s a daunting task when he speaks so earnestly. “It’s just—you do so much for everyone all the time. And I’m just—I don’t even talk to anybody.”

“Hey.” Yuri speaks softly, taking one of his hands between both of hers in what he thinks is an attempt to comfort him. Her hands are just as soft as they were that night by the subway, he muses. “You can’t blame all that on yourself, you know? I know the other guys aren’t the best at being friendly and inclusive and all that, but that’s not your fault. It’s more of a time thing.”

“A time thing?” he asks.

“We’ve all known each other for, like, two or three years before you came here,” she explains. “ So I think they’re just trying to get used to you? But they don’t dislike you! If anything, I’m sure they’ll like you soon. I mean, I already like you, so it shouldn’t be too hard for them to follow suit.”

“Okay,” he says, thinking nothing of the flush that spreads up to the tips of his ears.

Namjoon supposes that now is as good a time as any when Yoongi steps into his studio.

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. After all, Yuri points out, Yoongi is the one alone in Seoul with nobody to talk to. When she puts it like that, it makes them all sound like assholes. Maybe they are. But it’s fine, because Namjoon is finally going to be nice and converse with him about something not music-related. The bar is on the floor. All he needs to do is open his mouth and say something.

“We need to talk,” Namjoon says. He immediately knows he’s said the wrong thing when Yoongi’s eyes widen like saucers, anxiously backing up until his back hits the door like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. “Oh God, no, not like that. You’re okay. You’re not in trouble.”

“Oh. Alright,” Yoongi says, visibly relaxing.

“I just, um. I wanted to talk,” he repeats. “I feel like I’ve been… mean? But I’m not trying to be. It’s just that I’m supposed to be the leader, but you’re the hyung. “And you also produce a lot of our songs—which I’m really, really grateful for, of course. I just don’t know how to talk about things as a leader without seeming disrespectful. I try to keep my mouth shut about it, but I guess that’s how things like that build up, you know?”

“My mom gave birth to me,” Yoongi says, seemingly out of the blue, and Namjoon laughs. It’s that loud, booming laugh of his that always fills up the whole room.

“What—?!” he laughs incredulously.

“Let me finish,” Yoongi says, hopelessly fighting to the smile off of his face. “My mom gave birth to me. My mom is older to me, obviously, and she’s done a lot for me, too. And of course I’m grateful for that, but that doesn’t mean I won’t fight her on some things. Doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything she says, because I haven’t. Neither have you—if we did, neither of us would be here right now. We’d be like, I don’t know, doing cram school or preparing for university shit or something like that. I think I’d resent her if that’s what I was doing right now just because I wanted to please her. That’s why it’s okay to fight. If we don’t, then all that resentment just grows.” Namjoon smiles fondly at him.

“You really are an old man,” he chuckles, prompting Yoongi to raise a brow at him. “Hitman Bang said the same thing, you know? About fighting being good, since conflicts just get bigger if you don’t fight.”

“Well… he’s right.”

“Wiser words were never spoken,” Namjoon replies.

“So no more not-fighting?” Yoongi asks. It’s so ridiculous, the way he has to phrase it—but Namjoon nods, so he supposes that it gets the point across well enough. “We’ll try to resolve problems instead of avoiding them completely.”

“No more not-fighting,” he agrees. “Resolving things. Not avoiding them.” He holds out a pinky.

It’s a ridiculously silly sight, Yoongi thinks, the way Namjoon’s large hand offers out a pinky for what he thinks must be a pinky promise. Seeing someone as big as Namjoon do something so childish is unfairly endearing. He must’ve picked up from Yuri, he muses. Yoongi can’t help but laugh.

“Did you just giggle?”

“Huh?”

“That was kind of cute, hyung.” Yoongi flushes a dusky pink.

“…shut up.”

Yuri doesn’t come in late on Sundays anymore, Yoongi muses.

She always used to come in late on Sundays, which was a stark contrast to her appearances right after school on weekdays and her early morning entrances on Saturdays. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice before, but he supposes it’s a good thing that he does now. It means that at the very least, they’re taking note of each other’s presence. 

Yoongi does think it’s weird, but for as curious as he is, he is not nosy enough to ask about it. Normally, it wouldn’t even cross his mind to do so, but with the talk he had with Hitman Bang last week about getting along better with everyone, he’s having second thoughts.

Yuri may not be a fellow trainee, but she’s still a member of their team. He only just started talking easily to Namjoon, so Yuri is easily the most comfortable person to talk to. After a rather heated internal battle, he gives in and brings it up to her.

“I’m glad you come in on Sundays, now,” he says, as nonchalantly as he can manage. “What cleared your schedule up?”

“Oh!” she says, pleasantly surprised that Yoongi is taking the first step in making conversation. “My mama worked as a vocal teacher before she divorced my dad and moved away, so my little brother Daniel and I would go over there to help her, especially with translating stuff since her Korean wasn’t very good. I used to go over to help the other lady who works there on Sundays since she’s nice and I liked singing!  But Daniel handles all that now, so I’m free to work here with you guys.”

That’s certainly a can of worms. He’s learned more about her and her home life from this single conversation than he did from the night he was over at her house, but he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable by pressing further about the deep shit, so he keeps his digging as shallow as he can.

“You sing?” he says, and she flushes.

“Yes,” she admits. “But like. Not in front of other people. That’s scary.”

“Like stage fright?”

“Sort of,” she says. “It’s different. More like, scary in the sense that you have to share your art that you’ve poured all your heart and soul into for so long. Because then when people reject it or don’t like it, you feel like they don’t like you. On top of that, people also care about visuals and dancing and aegyo, and like… how am I supposed to fulfill all those categories?”

“I get that,” he says. He always knew that music would be a big part of his life, but he never imagined he’d be performing for other people. The thought of scrutiny had always made his stomach churn, but that’s basically all that idol life was. He’s not sure how he’ll handle it. “You don’t think you’ll ever be singing on a stage one day?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. Maybe one day,” she says. “Maybe if I was more… you know.” She grimaces as she makes a vague gesture with her hand.

“Mm-hm.” Really, he doesn’t know, but it seems like a touchy subject. 

He deems it better not to pry.

Big Hit and Source Music are due to debut a girl group soon, Hitman Bang says.

Unlike the boys, they’ve even got a name—GLAM. Yoongi, however, has yet to know the group’s trainees beyond seeing them in passing. After all, Source is the one handling all the management and promotion and all that fancy stuff. 

(Hitman Bang says he’d never be able to manage a girl group because he doesn’t understand women. It takes all of Yoongi’s willpower to stifle a laugh when Yuri says she’s not surprised.)

Meanwhile, all Big Hit has to do is help make their music. 

Yoongi feels a bit of pressure when faced with the prospect of making music for somebody else. Music has always been a very personal process for him. The thought of someone else interpreting his work was both exciting and overwhelming. While the prospect of someone interpreting his work or liking his work enough to perform it piqued his interest, the idea of someone either fucking up something he made or pitching his work to someone who’d only reject it was anxiety-inducing.

To his relief, that is not what he is currently doing.

At the moment, he’s currently mixing a demo for one of GLAM’s future songs, touching up the vocals so that they stand out above the instrumental’s bouncy synths. It has a nice vibe to it, he muses. It’s in English, but he understands enough of it to make out that it’s about getting ‘too close’ to somebody who’s supposed to be a friend. Hitman Bang must’ve purchased it from some overseas songwriter. He’s not sure why. It seems like it’d be an expensive process, and even after buying it they’ll have to translate it back into Korean. What was the point of all that hassle?

At least it sounds nice, Yoongi supposes. It’s a cute, pop-based little R&B track with airy vocals. The high notes are clear and smooth, with a distinct little squeak at the end of the high notes. It’s almost familiar, he muses, but he’s listened to a lot of music in his lifetime, so—wait a minute.

Yuri. That’s Yuri’s voice.

He recognizes those little squeaks anywhere, reminiscent of the whiny tones she makes whenever she’s being stubborn about something. It’s harder to pick up on when she speaks in English, which he supposes he should’ve assumed she’d know how to speak. He recalls Namjoon offhandedly mentioning that she was his English tutor a couple of times, as well as Yuri mentioning translating for her mom. Still, he’s never actually heard it come out of her mouth. It’s kind of jarring.

Against his better judgement, he asks her about it.

“Oh! Um, yeah, that’s me,” she admits, laughing sheepishly. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“It’s good,” he assures her. “Your voice is pretty. The lyrics you wrote are catchy. I bet you could be an idol, if you wanted to.”

“Uh-uh. I don’t think so,” she says just a bit too forcefully, “I’m perfectly content just producing for you guys. Seriously.”

“That’s selfless of you,” he says. She shakes her head.

“It’s actually a little selfish, when I think about it,” she laughs nervously. “To be honest, I think a big part of my support comes from living vicariously through you guys. Saying it out loud makes it sound kind of awful, but you guys are doing things I could only ever dream of doing. I’m just here to make sure you guys are as successful as possible at all the things you’re doing, you know? Even though I’m not actually, like, putting in all the work and being on stage and all that.”

“You could, if you really wanted to,” he says encouragingly. She shakes her head.

“I mean, I don’t think I look very idol-like,” Yoongi muses. 

“You do!” she argues. Poking at his pale cheek to emphasize her next point, she says, “White as sugar, just like old man Bang said. You’ve got that glass skin, you know?” 

“That’s because I don’t go outside,” he says, self-deprecating as ever as he swats her hand away.

“Oppa,” she whines in a way he thinks is unfairly cute of her. “Just accept the compliment, okay?” He rolls his eyes, but relents to her wishes anyway.

“Thank you,” he says.

“You’re very welcome,” she says, sounding far too pleased with herself. “Don’t be like that, okay?”

“Like what?” he says, wrinkling his nose.

“Well… you know. Mean to yourself about how you look,” she explains. “Namjoon is the same, which is sad. And also just not great for an idol, you know? You have to be at least a little confident in your looks, or you’re gonna be miserable every time the stylists dress you. It takes them longer than you’d think. Or so I’ve heard.”

“There’s not much to be proud of,” he deflects, not missing the way that Yuri rolls her eyes like that. 

When she raises her hand, he thinks she’s gonna flick his forehead or prod at his face again or something, but instead she places a finger on the tip of his nose. He furrows his brows together.

“What—”

“Your nose is cute,” she says matter-of-factly. He can’t help the strangled noise of surprise that escapes him at that, face growing hot as he flusters. “And your pale skin makes it easier to see when you blush, too. That’s a strong charm point as well, I think. You’ve got lots of charms.” He turns away, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Still, it’s nice to know that somebody thinks so.

Yoongi presses the end call button on his phone just a little too forcefully.

Another phone call, another argument with his parents. It was instances like these that made him not want to call them at all. He’s always in this limbo of guilt, grateful that they paid for his trainee contract while also being angry at the way they constantly voice their disapproval. He slams his phone down onto his desk in frustration. 

Apparently, it was louder than he thought. His studio door opens up a sliver, just enough for Yuri to peek her head in.

“Hey,” she calls softly. “Everything alright in there?” Yoongi pulls a face that makes it obvious that no, he is not alright. “Can I come in, then?” 

Upon his nod of approval, she files into the room, gently closing the door shut behind her. She walks over and settles into the seat across from his, sliding it over next to his so she can lay her head on his shoulder. Her touch is comforting, he thinks.

“Talk to me,” she says. “What’s wrong?”

“Sometimes, I think I should just… I don’t know. Anything to stop shit like that from happening,” he sighs. “My parents nagging me, I guess. Just go back home. Go to college. Get a nine-to-five. Have a nice family, or something.” And Yuri frowns, because she gets it.

It’s something she’s spent many days and nights comforting Namjoon over when he’s just had another argument with his parents over the same exact thing. She wishes she could relate or understand, or anything to comfort him—but she can’t. 

She’s glad the two can talk to each other about it now, but she can’t help but feel a little jealous that she can’t be a part of the conversation and can help them. She almost scoffs at herself for envying them being able to bond over their unsupportive parents. How fucked up was that?

Heaving a sigh, she hops up and takes a seat on the edge of his desk, careful to mind his production equipment. She swings her feet up into his lap, in that very casually touchy Yuri-esque way of hers. Impulsively, he brings a hand up to gently tap at her shin. She tries not to giggle at the ticklish sensation.

“Yoongi,” she starts, as seriously as she can manage. “Not to be, like. A downer or anything. But when your parents are gone, where would that put you? Stuck in a job you hate for no reason?”

“Six feet under,” he snorts, and she gasps.

“Not funny!” she whines, kicking at his hand. Her assault on his poor palm only gets worse when he bursts out laughing. “So not funny!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, but he’s still laughing.

“I really am trying to be supportive,” she huffs, a bit less childishly, now. “But I can’t like. Get it, get it, you know? The only reason I have any idea what to say here is ‘cause I’ve had this talk before. You know, if you two tried talking to each other more about personal stuff, I think you’d see that you and Namjoon are more alike than you might think. I’m not going to spill his business, but. I’ll just say that I think if anyone were to get it, it’d be him. It took some coaxing from my dad, but both my parents are okay with me pursuing music, now. As long as I took the producer route and not the idol route, at least. But still. It’s a good start. I’m lucky. I’ve got it better than a lot of people do, I think.”

“Would you?”

“Hm?”

“Take the idol route,” he clarifies, looking down at her shoes. “If you were given the choice.”

Sometimes, Yoongi feels like he’s never been given a choice. It feels like he’s been given every setback in the world. He’s never had the support or the funds or the hunger for fame that so often accompanied those pursuing music. He can barely remember why or when or what began his relationship with music, but he so vividly remembers feeling it, feeling like music chose him rather than the other way around. He can’t help but wonder what someone who seems to have been given almost all the choice in the world has to say about the only restrictions she’s been given.

Not much, it seems.

“Oh, um, nah. I don’t think so,” she laughs nervously. “I’m just—I’m not really pretty enough?”

“You are pretty,” he says, too quickly and too naturally to be insincere. He doesn’t miss the way that she ducks her head to hide the flush flooding into her cheeks.

This must be the vague ‘you know’ thing she was always talking about, Yoongi muses. He really should’ve picked up on it from the moment she said she didn’t look very idol-like. He’s never been the type to kiss up, so he hopes she knows that he means it. 

“You’re so—stop that,” she whines, embarrassed. She half-heartedly attempts to kick at his hand again, but makes no move to try again when she misses. “You’re too much.”

“I’m serious,” he says.

“I know,” she squeaks, hands flying up to cover her flushed cheeks up in embarrassment. “That’s the embarrassing part. Get some taste or something.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Yuri,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You always tell Namjoon and I not to be insecure about appearances, but you act the same when it comes to yours.”

“That’s different,” she whines, “You and Namjoon are gonna be in front of the cameras. I’m gonna be behind them. I don’t need to muster up any kind of confidence for that. Which is good. Because I don’t have it.”

“Looks don’t matter to me,” he says flatly. “But confidence does. I’m not gonna hold your hand and tell you that you’re pretty all day, even if I think it’s true, ‘cause you’re not gonna believe it no matter how many times I say it.”

“Ouch.”

“Let me finish,” he continues, “Even if it isn’t your looks, you deserve to at least be confident in something. Your music, your grades, your music, whatever. You’re generous and thoughtful. Don’t let society make you miserable just because all they care about is appearances.”

Yuri doesn’t say anything, her face still buried in her hands. More than a little bit concerned at this point, Yoongi flicks her forehead through her bangs. 

“Hey, you good in there?” he asks. She doesn’t reply. Just sniffles. Oh, fuck. “Uh, sorry, I—” Yuri shakes her head, finally lowering her hands.

“Don’t be,” she laughs nervously, still teary-eyed. “That was one of the nicest things a boy ever said to me. You should be, like, a motivational speaker or something.” He snorts.

“I can’t give advice to like. People I don’t care about,” he says, grinning awkwardly, “I’d just tell them to get their shit together and I’d get fired.” Yuri can’t fight the smile off of her cheeks at that.

She’s sure she’d know that he cares through his Yoongi-isms alone, but it’s nice to hear it from the man himself. He wouldn’t be giving this advice if he didn’t care. 

Min Yoongi cares about her, and it makes her heart feel warm.

Lim Yuri has become an unexpected addition to Yoongi’s delivery sprees.

Yuri’s arms, small and gentle, have become a comforting presence as they wrap around his waist. The old couple doesn’t seem to mind the extra person joining him on his trips, content with her politeness and the fact that she isn’t demanding any money despite providing help. They coo about the highs and lows of young love whenever Yuri arrives to join him on his trips, and Yoongi can’t find the energy within himself to correct them.

Things go on like this for a long time, hours, days, weeks, of this halcyon. Her arms keep him warm in the winter and her cold hands keep him refreshed in the late months of spring. The old husband hands them a bag of leftover food for them to eat together, an wistful smile on his face. 

They eat in the midst of impromptu therapy sessions, which usually consist of Yuri comforting Yoongi as he complains about his problems. It’s okay, though, because she likes to give advice and she likes how deep his voice is when he talks and she doesn’t have many problems of her own to complain about, anyway. When she does talk, it’s always lighthearted, talking about a song she wrote or something dumb Kyunghee and Daniel did or how cute Namjoon’s dimples were on that particular day. 

One day, curiosity kills the cat, and Yoongi asks a question that’s been killing him from the start.

“Why do you like Namjoon so much, anyway?” It’s something Yoongi asks out of the blue, so much so that he doesn’t even realize he’s asking it until it slips out. He’s not sure what he’s expecting until she answers, and when he does, he realizes that his expectation was literally anything but what she says next.

“No reason,” she says, and he’s so thrown for a loop by the words that leave her that he practically stumbles over his feet when he hears them.

“Wait, seriously?” he says. “I’ve read your lyrics, you know. You’re good with words.”

“I am?” she says, sounding far too surprised for his liking.

“Yeah. Which is why I thought you’d have a way better answer than that,” he says. “I expected you to talk about…” He pauses as he sifts through his brain for all the things that he personally finds attractive about Namjoon. “…I don’t know, his dimples or his height or his good grades or something.” All things that he lacks, Yoongi muses with insecurity.

“Oh my God. Those are all, like, great and all, but they’re not like… why I like him,” Yuri giggles. “He’s just—I don’t know. There’s a lot of things about him that make me like him, but I can’t, like, come up with an itemized list. It’s not like one day he reached a quota in traits I liked and suddenly I liked him. I just realized I did. I just… felt it. It felt right. He felt right.”

“Oh.” Yoongi feels a pang of jealousy at that, like an itch he can’t scratch. Maybe it’s because a tender part of him can only dream of being loved so dearly.

He silently wonders what it would be like to be loved by a person like Lim Yuri.

Namjoon has been feeling himself growing fonder and fonder of Yoongi in these past months.

Finally learning to talk to him without being all weird has helped with that. Without the formalities, they’re both able to speak a lot more freely. In the time that they’ve done so, the two have been able to talk about and bond over their rocky family situations and their choice to pursue music.

What’s fueled his fondness more than anything, though, is Yoongi’s little habits—the way he runs a hand through his jet black hair as he shyly recommends jazz and art study because they seem like the type of thing you’d like, Namjoonie, the way he always wears those grey jacket and sweats because they’re warm and winter is starting to trickle in, the way he smiles with his gums just like Yuri said he would.

Those two have gotten impossibly close lately, Namjoon notes. Now, he doesn’t think he’s the most perceptive person in the world, but it’s hard to miss the tenderness in their actions. Every time he steals a glance in their direction, they’re exchanging knowing glances or whispering softly to each other or linking pinkies in the way that Yuri loves to do so much.

It’s only natural to conclude that Min Yoongi and Lim Yuri are involved.

He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. It has no reason to, right? But it does. He combs through his mind for any possible reason that it should. Maybe it’s because Yoongi, who’s agreed to be more honest with him, hasn’t told him about it. Maybe it’s because Yuri, ever perceptive, has been one of his closest friends for years and yet seems to have no intentions in telling him about it despite how painfully obvious their interactions make things.

The familiar sting of loneliness rises sharply in his chest when he sees them interact, like they’re in their own little world, with seemingly no room for him. He feels like he’s spying on their relationship when he shouldn’t be. He feels like a voyeur. He feels like an interloper.

Maybe this is how Yoongi felt when he first came to Big Hit, he muses. If this is how he feels just watching him and Yuri, he can’t imagine having to watch everyone who’s known each other for years talk and laugh together from the outside. The more he thinks about it, the more he feels selfish and ridiculous for being so bothered by it. After all, who was he to meddle in their affairs?

Maybe it’s high time he finds one of his own.

Yuri’s sheets are soft, Yoongi thinks.

They’re at her house today, Yuri not feeling very keen on having this conversation in the Big Hit building for fear that Namjoon might walk in on them while they’re talking about him. Right now, she’s half-heartedly producing something on her bedroom computer and venting to Yoongi as he lies on her bed.

She rants about how Namjoon has been talking a lot about girls lately, clearly bothered. She especially seems bothered by the fact that Namjoon won’t let her be as touchy with him as she used to be. Normally, Yoongi wouldn’t give a damn about other people’s affairs, but things are different, this time. While he’s not personally bothered by it, he doesn’t like the fact that it bothers her so much, for whatever reason he can’t quite pinpoint. 

Dear Lord, she even goes into detail, describing each and every pretty girl in a way that is far less flowery than he believes Namjoon would speak about a girl.

“And then there’s Jieun, who they all say is a good kisser. What does that even mean? Like, what the hell makes someone a good kisser? You just jam your lips together, right?”

“You’ve never been kissed,” he says, more a statement than a question.

“Yes?”

“Kinda late, don’t you think?” he says. Yuri gasps as she smacks at his arm, clearly mortified.

“No it’s not! Shut up!” she says indignantly. He’s trying to take her seriously, but her squeaky little whines make that hard.

“Sorry—” he tries apologizing through his laughter.

“You don’t sound sorry at all!” she whines. “It’s not funny, okay? It’s fine! I’m still young!”

“You’re sixteen already!”

“I’m only sixteen!” she huffs, crossing her arms and turning away from him. “I-I have time, okay? We can’t all be heartbreakers, Min Yoongi.”

“Heartbreaker?” he repeats. “I haven’t had a girlfriend since middle school.”

“I never said you were one,” she defends herself.

“You implied it.”

“I—whatever!” she huffs. “I’m saving my first kiss for someone special. And it’s gonna be somewhere magical, like under the cherry blossoms at the Goyang Flower Festival or on a picnic blanket under the stars on New Year’s or something.”

Oh my God. He’s trying so hard to stop his laughter. 

“Did you swallow a fucking romance novel?” he laughs. “My first kiss took place in the hallway after gym class, so like. Don’t be surprised if it sucks and you mess up and slobber all over them or something like that.”

When he turns to look at Yuri, she looks incredibly nervous. She’s come to a still in her spinny chair, nervously pulling her hair over her face as she ponders his words with utmost seriousness.

“Do you think that?” she asks, voice small.

“What?” he asks. Wordlessly, she sighs, wheeling her chair backwards over to where he’s lying on her bed. She cranes her neck back onto her bed, coming face-to-face with him.

“Do you think I’ll mess up my first kiss?” she says softly. Not that she needs to speak anything but—she’s so close he can feel her breath against his nose. He pulls away, face aflush.

“You’ll be fine,” he mutters, voice cracking. 

Yuri gives a huff, seemingly dissatisfied with his answer. She hops down from her chair—there’s an inherent cuteness in the fact that her feet don’t touch the ground when she sits on it, Yoongi muses—and up onto the bed, right next to him. He rolls his eyes when she settles onto her knees and urges him to sit up, too. He obliges, in spite of his annoyance.

“What was your first kiss like? Aside from the whole being in the hallway thing?” she whispers, like they’re telling secrets. There’s nobody else in the house but Daniel (who’s probably got his headphones cranked up to a hundred percent), so Yoongi can’t help but find her antics endearing.

“My first kiss was just a kiss. Nothing bad. Nothing mind-blowing,” he says with a shrug.

Even that’s a bit of a stretch. They were both gross and sweaty and their teeth clacked together. But he already feels kinda bad for making her doubt herself so much, and he doesn’t want to aggravate her worries.

“So how did… did you just…” she gestures awkwardly with her friends as she trails off, unable to articulate whatever she wants to say. He gets it, though. He always does.

“You just go for it,” he says, “It’s the kinda thing you just feel your way through. Just don’t think too hard about it. You’re good at doing things without thinking, so it should go well for you.”

“Gee, thanks,” she says, rolling her eyes at the back-handed compliment. “It’s just—I don’t wanna mess up in the future if I ever… you know.”

“Just say kiss,” he teases. “It’s not as sacred as you’re making it out to be. It’s just lips-on-lips. If humans never decided it was a thing to kiss people you liked, it wouldn’t be important at all. It’d just be an exchange of germs.”

“It’s important to me!” she bristles, so aggressively that it throws him for a loop. She takes note of her overreaction, coughing awkwardly before returning to her normal volume. She repeats, “I-It’s important to me. I just want it to be nice. I don’t wanna be disappointed. And I don’t wanna be someone else’s disappointment. That’s why I’m asking you this.”

“What are you asking?” he says, raising a brow.

“Augh!” She buries her face into her hands, miserably failing an attempt to hide her flushed cheeks. Peeking through her fingertips, she gently continues, “Just… hypothetically… purely for practice reasons… it wouldn’t count as my first kiss if you could, um. Help me. Try. Practice. I don’t know.”

The room goes impossibly quiet. She can’t say a word after that, the pair just staring at each other in awkward silence, him impossibly floored at the suggestion. Their faces go blank as Yuri processes what the hell she just did and Yoongi processes what the hell just happened.

When it all finally clicks, Min Yoongi has the audacity to fucking smirk, gums showing and all.

“Practice,” he repeats, no lilt to it, no bite. His attempts to remain straight-faced are to no avail, because her pouting up at him is all it takes for him to burst out laughing.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” she yells, pushing him back down onto the bed. “Just forget it! Forget I said anything!” She hooks a leg over his waist, pinning him down before grabbing a pillow and smacking him as hard as she can with it. The pain does little to quell his laughter.

“Get off!” he laughs in-between smacks. “You’re too much!”

“Are you calling me heavy?!” she asks, more fake-offended than anything.

“What—no! What the fuck made you think that?!” he tries to sound indignant, but he’s still laughing, and before he knows it, she’s laughing too. When the laughter subsides and the room goes quiet, they both realize what kind of situation they’re in. Yuri’s still got him pinned down, having just talked about first kisses. Kisses in general. Having just proposed that they kiss. The air goes tense.

“So,” Yoongi says, cutting through the silence.

“So.”

“I didn’t. Uh. I didn’t say no.” He has the decency to look embarrassed, now, cheeks flushed and eyes blown wide. “Unless you don’t want to.”

The two stare at each other for a moment after that, like they’re waiting for the other to back down. A Clint Eastwood-style duel of the eyes, so to speak.

“I won’t start something I can’t finish,” she says decidedly.

She leans in as promised,

presses her nose against his—

“I’m sorry!”

—and promptly places both hands over his mouth.

The motion isn’t harsh enough to hurt too bad—only a light sting—but it is very sudden. Yoongi blinks up at her a couple of times in surprise just to reassure himself that whatever that was actually just happened.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “For um—yeah. I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this? Because, um, you know. If someone asks me when my first kiss was, I’ll have to say, ‘Oh, it was on my bed at like, 11PM when I was in high school. A-And that already makes me sound terrible! And then when they ask with who, I’ll have to say, ‘Oh, just with my friend that I work with so I could practice kissing for the future since I was in love with our friend!’ And that’ll be my stupid goddamn answer! And that’s… that’s, um… that’s kind of not very romantic…”

Her voice tapers off towards the end, quieting in what Yoongi thinks is embarrassment as she takes his hands off of his mouth. It really does sound kind of ridiculous when she says it out loud. Maybe Yoongi was onto something when he laughed at her for sounding like she ‘swallowed a romance novel.’ To her relief, his next response is anything but patronizing.

“Hey,” he says, “Relax. Don’t apologize for changing your mind, that’s just—that’s just weird. Don’t force yourself to do shit you don’t want to. That’s weird.”

She’s so close. They’re still nose-to-nose, breath tickling each other’s lips every time the other speaks. He awkwardly pats the back of her thigh a couple of times, which she reads as a signal to roll off of him. She obliges. Even though she knows he doesn’t mean much by that little touch, the intimacy of it still makes her blush. Thankfully, he can’t see it with the both of them laying back down onto the bed and staring awkwardly at the ceiling above them. Yoongi pretends to find interest in the faded glow-in-the-dark stars on her bedroom ceiling.

“Okay,” she says.

“Okay,” he repeats.

“Sorry,” she says again.

“It’s fine,” he reassures her, because as mortifying as the situation is for them both, it really is fine.

She blindly reaches her hand out to find his, feeling around until their fingers meet. When he fondly links his pinky in hers, the way she always does with him, she decides that a kiss isn’t the kind of thing she should be rushing into, anyways.

Yoongi just assumes it isn’t weird.

After all, Yuri settles against him so naturally, her face buried into his neck and her studio chair sidled next to his as he sits at his desk and works on mixing what he hopes will end up being a song on their first album, whenever that comes out. Were it not for the way that her breath hit the sensitive skin of his neck, he would barely even register that she was there.

Well. Maybe not barely.

She’s so warm, the way she presses against him. She’s always warm, except in her hands, but it’s fine because his hands are always colder. Her cold fingers thread through his hair, and it reminds him of how accustomed he’s become to her touchiness. It’s just a habit of hers, he’s since learned. She has a lot of little habits he once found weird, but now only sees those habits as things that make her Yuri. 

Yuri who hides behind her hair when she’s shy or nervous. Yuri who only wears half her jacket and leaves the other half hanging off for no reason. Yuri who wordlessly leaves ramen cups on his desk. Yuri who has to link her pinky with someone else’s when she’s nervous. Yuri who awkwardly bends her hands to link both of hers together when she doesn’t want to be a bother.

But it’s come to the point where she’s never a bother anymore. If she were, he wouldn’t have situated himself in her life as the outlier, the one person who coaxes her to talk about all of her problems because she’s the one resolving everyone else’s. Yuri taking always feels like giving, because he takes in her little habits and private thoughts that she shares with him and nobody else. It makes him feel more important than it makes him feel annoyed.

She has a special bond with everyone at Big Hit, and even with the Source Music and JYP trainees they practice with—she wouldn’t be going out of her way to force them all to resolve their conflicts, otherwise, even if they see her as nosy and meddling because of it.

In everyone being special, he supposes, he has gone full circle in no longer being special. Maybe he is, but he’s not as important to her as say, Kyunghee, her own damn brother, or Namjoon, who she stares at like he holds all the world’s answers. With that, Yoongi takes his place in her heart at a solid bronze (at the very most), which stings a little more than he’d like to admit. 

He hasn’t had much opportunity to grow as close to anyone at Big Hit—hell, anyone in Seoul—yet. Maybe that’s why he’s grown so attached to her like this. As sad as it is, she is quite literally the one person in the whole city that he’s close to. Listening to all her problems like this makes him feel like he’s just as important to her, so he can feel a little bit less pathetic about holding her so close to his heart. Even if the problems that she tells him reveal anything but.

“I’m so stupid,” she whines against his neck. Her warm breath gives him goosebumps.

“Jeez, you’re not. How many times do we have to go over this?” He’s been comforting her over this for the past half-hour now.

Namjoon has a girlfriend now. A tall girl from his advanced algebra class with great math skills and pale skin and sharp eyes—everything that Yuri does not have. He knows she’s insecure about it from the way she wrinkles her nose when she sees her reflection in the mirrors of the practice rooms. It makes him want to throttle Namjoon, despite him probably not having a clue.

“Sorry,” she says, her voice small, “For dumping all this on you, you know? I don’t wanna be that friend who only ever talks to you when I have problems. I kinda feel like I’m using you.”

“Hey, hey. It’s fine. Relax,” he says, feeling her nod softly into his neck as he continues, “It doesn’t bother me.” In fact, he prefers it, is what he doesn’t tell her. Humiliating as it is, he revels in feeling like he’s giving something, when he always feels like he’s taking from her. Like everyone is taking from her.

He knows what it’s like to be a producer, always behind the scenes of it all. She says she’s perfectly content with it, but he once said the same thing back in Daegu. But even when he chose to do things and make things for other people like this, there was always that underlying feeling of feeling like something has been taken from you. Sometimes it was just wanting the same amount of recognition as the people singing the songs you made.

Being young in society meant a desire for acceptance, and what bigger acceptance was there than fame? He recognizes the stars in her eyes whenever they practice with the other trainees in JYP’s big, shiny entertainment building because his own eyes held them once, too.

He’s still a trainee, so maybe they still do.

But for now, he’s letting himself dream small, living in the studio whenever he doesn’t have to practice those stupid dances Hitman Bang has them do. For now, music comes first, especially with his current job as one of the company’s main producers.

Producing is a lot harder with one hand, he muses, noting that she has at some point monopolized his left one when he wasn’t paying attention. He interlocks their fingers in spite of it all. With his ability to perform keyboard shortcuts impaired, he delegates the task of manually clicking things to his free hand. It’s annoying, but the feeling of her hand fit so snugly in his makes the inconvenience feel worth it. They sit like that for a while, quiet as one of her hands threads through his hair and the other softly strokes at his hand with her thumb.

“I like your hands,” she says. “They’re nice to hold.” Yoongi swallows. She’s so close to him that he’s scared she’ll hear how fast his heart is beating. To his relief, she says nothing of it.

“They’re just hands,” he says as nonchalantly as he can manage. “Cold hands.”

“Usually when you hold someone’s hand they get all hot and sweaty and clammy and gross, which is why I do the pinky-linking thing,” she muses, “Yours don’t do that, so they’re nice to hold. And they’re honestly not even that cold.”

“They are,” he argues.

“I don’t think your hands are ever that cold,” she says, her voice a teasing lilt. “I think you just keep saying that so you have an excuse to have your hands held. I bet you secretly love skinship.” He rolls his eyes, tightening an arm around her tiny frame.

“Watch it. Your life is in my hands,” he says, as flatly as he can manage for maximum ominosity.

With a squeak, she flies off of him like he’s on fire. He can’t help but smile, wide and gummy, at her Yuri-esque antics. Even when she turns away, shaking her head fondly, he can feel his heart swell in his chest as he looks at her. It reminds him why she’s the first one at Big Hit he was able to really talk to. Everything feels easy and comfortable with her, the way he felt back in Daegu.

His reverie is interrupted by Namjoon’s voice booming from the studio next to his.

“Yuri!” he calls. “Can you look at this for me?”

Hearing this, she does a little happy dance with her feet. It’s a habit he usually finds endearing, but right now it just makes his stomach twist. She waves him off, dropping everything—she even forgets her water bottle on his desk—to run off and attend to whatever Namjoon needs her for.

“I’ll be back,” she says in a sing-song voice as she’s out the door. 

He knows she will. She always comes back to him whenever Namjoon isn’t available.

Yoongi runs a frustrated hand through his hair, not sure why it bothers him so much. The fact that he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much bothers him more than anything else.

Yuri is awake at the Big Hit dorms at two in the morning.

This is nothing out of the ordinary, though. Whenever their dad was out of the country on a business trip, she always took the opportunity to stay out past curfew as a chance to spend her nights at the Big Hit studio while Kyunghee played video games with Donghyuk in the dorms. She always had to hide in the studio until early dawn so as to not get caught by Hitman Bang, who made it clear that he detested the idea of someone so young being out late just to work for him.

Today is different, though. Today, she’s in the dorms, taking a well-deserved break from work as she lays on her stomach next to Yoongi and watches a movie with him. She brought the DVD over from her house, thinking nothing of the way her father’s old American movies lined the TV stand until the day Yoongi bashfully mentioned wanting to watch it.

So here they are, watching a Korean-subbed version of Scarface on the tiny screen of his laptop. Yuri can’t enjoy the movie very much, finding it a bit too bleak and violent for her liking. And it just never gets better. It’s just hit after hit, one bad thing happening after another. She’s sure that if she squinted hard enough, she would be able to appreciate the cinematography and whatever deeper meaning the film holds, but that sounds like too much brainpower to be using at two in the morning.

Yoongi seems to find it interesting, though. He’s enraptured by every word that leaves the main character’s mouth, so much so that Yuri would be surprised if he forgot she was there. It really seems like he’s in his own little world. Instead, she finds her entertainment in his little gasps of delight, the innocent widening of his eyes, the way his grins of anticipation look as they’re illuminated by the dim light of his laptop screen.

It’s unfair, she thinks, how pretty Yoongi is. Perfect skin and catlike eyes and gummy smiles and he’s not even trying—hell, he doesn’t even have a skincare routine! God really does pick favorites. Yuri absentmindedly brushes a strand of hair out of his eyes, one he’s probably too entranced by the movie to notice. She hums softly at the way he leans into her touch without thinking.

She wonders if anyone is ever going to look at her this way.

There’s no time for her musings to continue when she hears what sounds like someone throwing their guts up in the bathroom. It stops for a moment before continuing, and Jesus, that sounds pretty brutal. She nudges Yoongi with her arm.

“Sounds like someone’s dying in there,” she says. He furrows his brows together in concern.

“Huh?”

“Someone’s not having a good time in the bathroom,” she says. “Did Namjoon undercook the chicken breasts again or what?” As if on cue, the poor guy is retching again, and Yoongi shakes his head.

“Jihoon,” he says, pausing the movie before he stands up and dusts himself off. “He hasn’t been feeling well for a while, now.” Yuri gets up and follows Yoongi when he makes his way towards said bathroom, cringing at the distinct sound of dry heaving as they draw closer. Yoongi knocks on the door before entering, his frown deep-set when he sees Jihoon hunched over the toilet.

“Hey,” Yuri says softly, stepping forward and placing a comforting hand on the small of his back. “Are you okay, buddy?” Yuri and Jihoon aren’t exactly the closest—of all the Big Hit trainees, Namjoon and Yoongi nabbed that spot—but he’s still nice to talk to, always offering to walk her home when it got too late like a good oppa. Seeing him like this breaks her heart.

“‘M fine,” he rasps, despite the pain in his voice telling them all that he is anything but. “Probably just food poisoning. No big deal.”

“Food poisoning for three days?” Yoongi says, obviously in disbelief. “It could be a stomach bug. Or God forbid, appendicitis. You really need to get yourself checked out.”

“It’s fine, hyung. I—” he begins, but the need to heave again cuts him off. Yuri rubs comforting circles into his back some more, unsure of what else to do. She sends a questioning glance Yoongi’s way, who looks just as concerned as she does.

“We’re taking you to the hospital,” he says. Jihoon groans, but doesn’t have the energy to resist.

The drive to the hospital is tense, Yuri filing in the back before Jihoon so he can lay his head against her shoulder and she can make sure he doesn’t throw up anymore. Meanwhile, Yoongi pushing is the edge of the speed limit, eyes darting back and forth between the road and the rear view mirror to make sure that they’re holding up okay in the back. Yuri sends him a reluctant thumbs up.

Yoongi insists that they take Jihoon to the emergency room, where they take Jihoon to the back. As soon as he’s out of eyeshot, Yuri watches with wide eyes as Yoongi takes out his wallet and puts down a hefty payment for the walk-in fee.

“I can pay for it,” she says, shaking her head as she fishes for her wallet in her own jacket pocket. Yoongi smiles, a bittersweet thing, at the unspoken words—she knows how much he’s struggled with money in the past. Even so, he shakes his head, reaching out to tenderly fit his hand into hers.

“There are worse things to spend my money on,” he says. “You can’t really put a price on anyone.”

Something in the way that she sees Yoongi snaps, then, but she has no clue as to what it is. She’s not sure if it’s the lack of sleep or the lateness of the night that makes her think this, but something about him reminds her of the moon, at that moment.

They stay like that the rest of the night, side-by-side in the seats of the hospital waiting room. Yoongi’s lashes flutter dreamily at the way a sleep-deprived Yuri noses against him, softly muttering sweet things against the sensitive skin of his neck and meaning every word.

“Your heart is warm, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi can’t help but notice the way that Yuri’s wrap around him a little bit tighter during their deliveries, these days. More than that, he can’t help but notice how much he likes it.

He’s slowly accepting the fact that this might be a thing that he will have to address in both himself and with the rest of the Big Hit team later. Yuri being her normal touchy self was one thing, but him finding himself enjoying her touch rather than just allowing it was… new. It’s scary and exciting all at once, but mostly the former. For now, while it isn’t a problem, he chooses to ignore it.

He still puts the helmet on her head himself, pulling the buckles tight and making sure it’s fully secure before anything else. He takes extra care with it these days, tender in the way he always does it for her like it’s the first time. He feels like a little kid all over again, the way he cares like this.

It’s easy for him to psyche himself out of things, convincing himself that she’s just being all touchy because that’s how she is, but then she does little things that make him think it isn’t all in his head. Just last month, she gifted him with a black Yamaha helmet, covered with stickers of Kumamon and logos of brands he likes and Scarface, even though he remembers her having a pointed disinterest in the film while they watched it on his bedroom floor.

He never anticipated that he’d actually need it one day.

He doesn’t know how it happens, who went too fast or too slow or turned when they weren’t supposed to. All he remembers is tightening his arms around Yuri as they tumbled off the bike and onto the ground, hoping that she’d be okay. 

She always kicked in his protective instinct, being so small and so delicate. The thought of her getting hurt because she wanted to help him out makes him feel impossibly guilty.

Yoongi’s fading in and out of consciousness, vaguely registering Yuri’s voice sobbing into her phone on what seems to be a 1339 call.

“He’s—he’s unconscious,” he hears her sniffle, “Oh my God, he—um, no, no, he has a helmet on. His head is under the car. His body’s sticking out from under it. I just—I don’t wanna move him, ‘cause, oh my God, what if I hurt him? Oh God, what do I do? I don’t know what to—no, ma’am, the street is—um...”

When he wakes up, he’s lying in a hospital bed, groggy and miserable and aching to the joints. He’s in the emergency room, he realizes, the same one he drove Jihoon to only weeks ago. His heart sinks when the doctor informs him that he’s got an incredibly bad shoulder injury—no more boxing, no more basketball, he tells him. It was nearly dislocated, he says, so don’t move too much. Don’t put too much pressure on it. Just relax for a month or so.

This sends him into a full-blown panic. He doesn’t have a month. He’s never been much of a dancer—of everyone, she should probably be practicing the most. This sets him back far behind the others. How is he gonna catch up? How is he gonna make up for that?

As soon as the doctor leaves, the weight of the whole world hits him all at once. He can even feel himself hyperventilating, but is halted by the shock of a gentle hand reaching out to grasp his. When he turns, he sees Yuri sitting on the hospital chair next to him. Lord, he was so out of it he didn’t even realize she was there. She’s got bandages on her legs, but other than that, no major injuries. He breathes a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” she says softly.

“Hey,” he says, slowly blinking up at her.

“Why did you do that?” she says, voice cracking.

“Huh?”

“You, um, kind of,” she begins, “…broke my fall? You held me. I don’t know. I crushed your shoulder. That’s why it’s all fucked up. Why would you do that?”

“I—I don’t know,” he admits. “I wasn’t thinking. I just felt like it was the thing to do at that moment.” She whines pitifully at his answer, squeezing his hand as tight as she can.

“I just feel like I owe you one,” she says. “Something. Anything. I don’t know.”

The tender part of him tells him to assure her that she has no need to do any such thing. After all, nothing was more important than other people—especially Lim Yuri—but the scared part of him takes over.

“Make me a promise,” he says softly. She leans in to hear him better, nodding as she does so.

“Anything,” she says.

“Promise me you won’t tell the others about this injury. Please.” Yuri furrows her brows and widens her eyes upon hearing this, obviously not expecting that answer. She practically rips her hand from his at that, pulling back from him as if appalled.

“What?!” she says. “Yoongi, no! They have to know about this!”

“They’ll worry. They’ll bench me. They’ll pull me out,” he says. “I promise you, it’s better if they don’t know.”

“What, so they can make you dance and exercise and all that shit with your injured shoulder? If it was sprained, that’d be one thing, but this is a serious problem! You’re only gonna hurt yourself further by not telling them.”

“I don’t care. It’s fine.” Yuri shakes her head.

“I just don’t get it,” she says, sniffling. “How you can care so little about yourself when I—when everyone—cares about you so much.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assures her. “It’ll heal. Everything will, alright? I just need you not to tell anyone about it.”

“Of course,” she says, as flatly as she can manage. “I owe you one, after all.” Yoongi knows her well enough to sense the bite in her tone. He rolls his eyes.

“C’mon,” he clicks his tongue. “Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like that, then,” she says, pressing her back to the opposite wall of his little hospital room. “It’s just—it’s just so stupid, Yoongi.” She slides down against the wall and onto the floor, looking impossibly small and hopeless in a way that only makes him feel guiltier. “You don’t have to pay anyone back for any of the nice things we do. You think we do all that just to kiss ass, or what?”

“What—no! Of course not.”

“Then why am I keeping this a secret, huh? Tell me that,” she says. 

Yoongi pauses for a moment, deep in thought. Every single thought falls upon him, all at once. He thinks of the evaluations next weekend and he thinks about his family back home. He thinks about the money they spent on his trainee contract and he thinks about the amount they’ll have to pay off, regardless of whether or not he debuts. His heart beats wildly in his chest. His head pounds away.  His lips press together into a thin line.

“There’s so much at stake,” is all he can offer as an explanation. What else can he say?

“All the more reason to trust us, then, isn’t it?” she says desperately. “Come on. No way anyone would let the company drop you. I’d fight for you, you know that! We’d fight for you. No one else can rap and produce like you. Don’t you remember what Namjoon said? You can debut before him, or he can debut before you, but it’s important that everyone supports each other, always. He’d be here for you, if he knew. He wants to be there for you. We all want to be there for you. You’re so loved. You just have to trust us. You just have to let us in.”

“Sorry I don’t remember every little thing Namjoon says,” he scoffs. “I’m not you.”

“Are you really talking about that right now?!” she bristles. “This is serious, Yoongi!”

“I’m being serious,” he says firmly. “You’re the one bringing up Namjoon while I’m lying in a hospital bed. He’s the leader. He’s the one I’m worried most about. The whole group is built around him. I don’t know if I can trust him not to tell any of the staff about this. If he does—, if anyone does—they have a reason to drop me as a trainee. I can’t let that happen, Yuri.”

He doesn’t know why he’s saying these things. He’s talking out of his ass right now. After all, he trusts Namjoon. He likes Namjoon. But the pain in his shoulder and the claustrophobia of the tight little hospital room makes him feel anxious, restless, paranoid. He wants to get up and move and run or do something. But he can’t, so all he can do is project every negative feeling bogging down on him onto other people.

“If you can’t trust Namjoon,” she says softly. “Can’t you at least trust me?”

A beat of silence is her only answer, Yoongi’s lips pressed together into a thin line as he looks away.

“I can’t believe you,” she says, voice cracking. When he hears her begin to sniffle and sob, he has to force himself not to look back at her, guilt and shame bubbling up in his stomach.

He doesn’t even get to see her as she storms out, slamming the door shut behind her.

Yoongi feels incredibly alone.

He really shouldn’t, though—after all, his family comes all the way down from Daegu just to visit him while he’s in the hospital. They bring him all sorts of different foods, agreeing with his complaints that hospital food really, really sucks. After repeated assurances that he’ll heal just fine, they ask him about trainee life, about his food, about his friends. On the third day, they ask why nobody else has visited him. He lies and says that they’re all too busy training, when in reality they don’t even know that he’s here. 

The insecure, self-loathing part of himself wonders if they’re even worried.

Rationally, he knows they are, because he misses them, too. They’ve been in such close proximity that it’d be impossible for them not to grow as close as they have in these past months. He chuckles softly whenever he thinks about the way they were so rarely separated, bonding and laughing over situations where Hoseok was using the shower while Donghyuk used the toilet and Namjoon brushed his teeth, all at the same time.

It only makes Yoongi feel worse about the last conversation he had with Yuri, making an ass out of himself over Namjoon of all people. Namjoon who he’s lived with the longest. Namjoon who he gives his shirts to when they come in two sizes too big. Namjoon who he holds so dearly. 

He wishes he didn’t have to be apart from everyone for so long to realize what an ass he was being.

It hits him the worst on the sixth day his family visits him and they bring him a cup of a very familiar brand of ₩1200 ramyeon. He saves the little egg brick for last. It tastes bitter in his mouth. 

As he reluctantly finishes his water, listening to his brother, Geumjae, and his parents chatter about their dog and their work and the weather in Daegu. Usually, catching up with them felt like a much-needed break, but right now he just feels restless. 

He’s been lying in this hospital bed for too long. Listening to nothing but their idle chat for too long. He’s been drifting in and out of sleep so much that he probably wouldn’t even know how many days he’d been in the hospital if his phone didn’t tell him. The repetition of it all ends one day when the nurse informs him that somebody’s coming up to visit, even though his family is already there in the room with him.

After a set of gentle knocks, Lim Yuri appears from behind the hospital door like an angel.

She introduces herself to his family a bit too formally, bowing more than she needs to, like she’s trying to impress them. It’s cute of her. What’s even cuter is the way she blushes and flusters in surprise when they ask if she’s a Big Hit trainee and she waves her arms around as she explains that she’s a producer. She looks nothing like an idol, she says. Geumjae jokes that Yoongi doesn’t look anything like one either. He glares at his brother from the hospital bed.

Yuri looks shy as she tells them something too softly for him to hear, but they nod in understanding and send Yoongi a knowing look as they file out of the door with promises to visit tomorrow. His cheeks flush in embarrassment as he realizes he’s going to have a lot to clarify for them then.

His flush deepens when she sets the plastic bag in her hands on his side table, clambering up the bedside to take a seat beside him. He moves to make space for her, revelling in the way the warm skin of her thigh presses against his arm. 

“Did you eat?” she says softly. “I brought you food.”

“Yeah, I ate,” he says. “Thanks, though.”

A beat of silence. She reaches down to grasp his hand, which fits so perfectly into hers. When he squeezes it, she squeezes back. Everything feels like it’s falling back into place where it belongs.

“I didn’t tell anyone, like you said. I told them all that you went back to see your family in Daegu. Said it was a family emergency that you didn’t really wanna talk about,” she says softly. “Told Hitman Bang, too. I think you should be okay if you want to stay here for the next week or so.” He shakes his head.

“It’s okay. I’ll be discharged soon,” he assures her. “Next two days, maybe. It won’t be completely healed, but I’ll just tell them that I fell down the stairs back home or something. I don’t know. Gonna try to play it off as nothing major.” 

She hums in reply, squeezing his hand again. He can tell she still disapproves of his secrets, but is willing to keep them if that’s what makes him comfortable. She slides down so she’s laying next to him, legs slotted nicely next to his. He feels a wave of comfort wash over him as she gets touchy with him, like nothing has changed.

Seeing as Yoongi has never been the touchy-feely type, one would think that this would annoy him. To his own surprise, it doesn’t. If anything, he finds himself reveling in her affections. It’s weird even to him, the way he likes her touch so much.

Wordlessly, she starts playing with his hair. She’s always liked his hair, she’s said before, all sleek and smooth—she doesn’t like her own hair and the way they curl at the ends. And he’d frown every time she talked about herself like that because he thinks she’s one of the cutest people he knows.

Not that he could ever tell her that without shrivelling up and dying of embarrassment.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by her wandering fingers, which have moved on from playing with his hair to prod at his ears. The sensitivity makes him cringe, but it isn’t an entirely unpleasant thing. He gasps sharply when her fingernails nip at the shell of his ear in a way that feels like the sensitive skin is being bitten. Mortifying as it is to admit, the goosebumps that rise on his skin stem from a sensation more pleasurable than it is uncomfortable. It feels good. Suddenly, the touches that he once found curious and innocent—childish, even—make his face go hot.

“You have something you’re not saying,” she chides. “You can tell me, you know, if it’ll make you feel better.” He turns in closer to her, close enough that her breath tickles him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For saying stupid shit that I didn’t mean. I was jealous and stupid and angry.”

“Apology accepted,” she says immediately, trailing her finger back down from his ear to prod at his bready cheeks. “I’d forgive you even if you didn’t apologize, you know. I missed you too much.”

“I missed you, too.” 

She freezes, then. They both do. Yoongi doesn’t even realize what he says until it’s slipped out—it’s probably the most intimate thing he’s said out loud. The closest thing he’s ever said to I love you.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks suddenly. “I just—I know it’s not super romantic to ask, but I don’t just wanna do it without your permission, so—” Yoongi’s face burns a dark crimson as he cuts her off.

“Yeah,” he chokes out. “Go ahead. Please.” He can’t trust his voice to say much else. His hands are shaking.

When she presses her lips against his, everything feels different. 

It’s like every shitty romance movie he’s ever watched has come to life in his bones. Every cheesy metaphor—the sparks flying, the angels singing, the flowers blooming. It’s the way he finally understands why wars have been waged and empires have fallen for a single heart. It’s the way Yuri smells like cherry blossoms and whatever else is in her girly lotions. It’s the way he’s never felt like this before.

It’s different from his first kiss. It feels exactly like Yuri said it should feel. Maybe because it’s her. 

And Min Yoongi finally understands why Lim Yuri put so much importance into a single kiss.

Yoongi doesn’t know how long he’s been avoiding her.

It’s not like he immediately iced her out after the kiss. It was a gradual thing, each interaction slowly becoming more and more unbearable. The first time he can recall feeling things start to fall apart was when he made some rude joke that he can’t even remember now. All he can remember is the way she laughed afterwards, so naturally and so easily that he couldn’t help but to think about how everything with her was just easy. Easy to tease, easy to joke with, easy to share secrets with.

That’s how things should be, right?

And then it spirals. Makes him think about his girlfriend from middle school, a smart girl with pretty hair that sat in front of him in class, who began going out with him when he shyly asked her out via letter. He could talk to her normally before, could ask her for pencils and for homework help, but once they began dating he couldn’t even do that much.

It’s weird, the way he acted so differently once romantic expectations were set up. There’d always been this tense aura of awkwardness around them, and he could vaguely tell that it annoyed her, but he was too chicken to do anything about it. He never thought it could happen with Yuri, who he always felt so comfortable, but here he was now.

He feels pathetic, agonizing over this when she’s probably thinking about Namjoon. Even if she does like him back, there’s a clawning fear in his gut that tells him that he’s never going to compare. He wonders how long she’d do that, seesaw herself over to him whenever Namjoon was unavailable. Moreover, he wonders how long he’d let her.

Everytime her little hands found themselves laced in his, the rate at which his thoughts dissipated and his heart melted became laughable. If she asked, he’d probably let her do whatever she wanted with him forever.

The tiny, selfish little devil on his shoulder whispers to Yoongi that he would possibly-maybe-kind-of be more compatible with her than Namjoon. Even without thinking too hard about it, he knows it’s a terrible thought just from the way it makes his stomach churn with guilt.

Namjoon and Yuri have known each other for several years longer than he’s known either of them. He’s nothing more than an interloper in this relationship, and it’s conceited of him to even think he has any kind of chance when he probably isn’t even in the running. The possibility of being in the running scares him more than it excites him, at this point.

So he ices her out.

With how frigid he’s gotten, it should come as no surprise that she wants to hang out more with the trainees at JYP and Source. These days, she’s been over in their dorms more often than she’s been in theirs. He only ever sees her in the studio. Even then, he only speaks to her indifferently, replying to her when it has to do with music and brushing off her attempts at small talk. It reminds him of his interactions with Namjoon back when they first met, tense and awkward and professional.

And speak of the devil.

“Hey,” he hears Namjoon say, his voice deep and distant at his studio door. “May I come in?”

“Sure,” he says thoughtlessly, not even bothering to look up from the song he’s producing on his computer. That changes when Namjoon seats himself on the seat next to his and he can practically feel the air go tense, forcing him to turn and give Namjoon his full attention. The way that his leader, who was a year younger than he was, could command so much authority with his presence alone was both admirable and terrifying.

“You’ve been avoiding Yuri,” Namjoon says. He immediately knows there’s no beating around the bush with this one. Regardless, he pushes his luck.

“I haven’t,” he lies through his teeth. Yoongi has never liked lying about matters of the heart. If it were anybody but Namjoon, he wouldn’t have, but he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Namjoon sighs, obviously in disbelief of the lie. Yoongi doesn’t blame him.

“Look,” he says. “I’m not asking you to tell me what’s wrong, or what happened between you two or whatever. If it was between two members of this group, then I would have to. It’s my job as leader to be responsible for you guys. But whatever is going on between you and Yuri? That’s your business. It’s not my job to keep up with our producers, no matter how much I might want to.”

“But you do want to,” Yoongi clarifies.

“Of course,” he says. “I mean, she’s not just a producer to me. She’s my friend. And so are you. So I’m asking you this as a friend, and not a leader.” Yoongi raises a brow.

“What are you asking?” he says.

“I don’t know. Just don’t be mad at each other anymore. Please.” Namjoon sounds impossibly desperate, hopeless in a way that feels incredibly out of character for him. “I don’t like seeing you guys mad at each other. Remember what Hitman Bang said? It’s okay if you wanna fight or yell or whatever. Just sort it out. I don’t know what she did, or what happened between you, but everyone seems pretty miserable without her around, including you. So please make up soon. Please don’t be mad at her anymore.”

“I’m not mad at her,” he says, and it’s the truth. If anything, he’s mad at himself—but not at her. Never at her. “It’s just… weird. I don’t know. But I’m not mad at her.”

“You think she knows that?” he says, and Yoongi’s heart immediately sinks.

“Probably not,” he admits, suddenly feeling a large wave of guilt wash over him. Now that he thinks about it, she’s probably been blaming herself this whole time. Yoongi’s face burns hot with shame.

“Then you should let her know.”

“Hey, can we talk?”

Yuri practically jumps in her seat, eyes widening like saucers as she whips around upon hearing the voice of Yoongi of all people at the studio door. She hesitates for a moment, but it’s not long before she gets up to let him in. Over the months, he’d gotten harder and harder for her to refuse.

“Okay,” she says as she unlocks the door, letting him into the studio. They’re face to face now, so much so that his incredible closeness reminds her just how much he towers over her. He always said that he was short, but he’s pretty tall to her. It only makes her all the more nervous.

She hasn’t had the opportunity to talk to Yoongi alone like this about something non-music related in months. She can’t beat around the bush with this one—she doesn’t know the next chance she’s going to get to say what she wants, so she has no choice but to say it outright.

“Let’s not fight anymore,” she says, gently dropping her head against his chest. It comes out soft and sad and a thousand times more pathetic-sounding than she’d originally intended. “I won’t kiss you anymore. We can pretend it never happened. Just talk to me again. I miss you.” The way her voice cracks breaks his heart into little pieces.

“We’re not—we’re not fighting, Yuri,” he assures her, stern and gentle all at once. Hesitantly, he brings an arm up around her to rub gentle circles into the small of her back. “We’re… disagreeing.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he says. “And even if I was, it wouldn’t be because you kissed me. Why would I be avoiding you because of that? I said that you could, didn’t I?”

“But you are mad,” she says.

“At me,” he clarifies. “Not at you.”

“Why?” she asks. “Yoongi, tell me.” He flushes, feeling incredibly trapped by the way her doe eyes look up at him. Refusing her wishes feels impossible, these days, so he supposes that honesty is the best policy in this case.

“Because I wanted you to kiss me again,” he admits, cheeks burning hot with shame. “Even though everything was fine as it already was.” Yuri blinks slowly at him upon his admission.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I think I get it,” she says, and despite being forgiven, he can’t help but frown at how understanding she’s being—it’s more than he deserves at this point, if he’s being honest.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s scary.” Words are hard right now.

“I think it’s why I could never say anything,” she continues. “It’s so easy to love someone without them knowing, because you get to live off these happy little fantasies of being together and everything being perfect in your head. I think that’s why being loved back is scary. Because then anything is a possibility. It’s kind of like—it’s kind of like finishing a really good webtoon.” He chuckles softly at the comparison, fondly bumping his nose against hers. “It is! Because then you have nothing left and you’re hit with that post-webtoon depression, because the fun and the fantasies and the excitement are over and then you’re left to deal with the real world. And sometimes the real world means that everything changes, or that even if the person you want loves you back right now, they might change their mind later on. And that’s scary.”

“I still want to be able to talk to you like we used to,” he says. “But I also still want to kiss you. I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“Kiss me, then,” she says. “We don’t—we don’t have to think about it or talk about it or decide anything. Just kiss me. Please.”

And so he does.

It makes him shiver, the way she seems to shrink when her back presses against the wall, the way she feels so small when he cages her between his arms, the way her tiny hands find purchase against his chest before travelling up to wind behind his neck.

Yoongi can’t find it in himself to be afraid at that moment. He’d kiss Lim Yuri forever, if she let him.

[luobingmeis]

DAO really was the best game, the lore the ability to absolutely wreck shit, the fact that they didnt do that bullshit ‘all sides are grey’ and clearly showed oppression. I think of my warden, an elven mage, and wonder how she’ll be rewritten more than anything.

right like!!!! i love each dragon age game with my whole heart and they all have super special places in said heart, but origins handles a lot of the social problems really well, or at least from the perspective that i play it as (also an elven mage!)

the rest i’m putting under the cut bc holy shit i can talk abt dragon age a lot. also nothing is proofred. i’m so sorry this got so long i hear “bioware” and “grey morality” and i go wild

(pls talk to me abt dragon age.....)

(also please don’t reblog this!!)

like i understand da2 having a type of grey-morality thing bc the final battle was choosing between the mages and the templars (tho imo they could’ve done better than “the mages hate us bc we keep them locked in a tower and there are multiple accounts of us abusing them and therefore some of them turn to blood magic so therefore we should kill all of them” but still, in a setting like that where the Main End Game Choice was mages vs. templars, then that is understandable)

(but also i haven’t played da2 in a couple years so maybe it’s more nuanced than that)

but inquisition! it’s weird bc inq has a super special place in my heart. i’ve played it 6 or 7 times to completion, not counting the other times i got 20/30 hours into it before external forces distracted me. inq is overall the game i think abt the most, most of my playthroughs average over 100 hours, it’s the only game that i have all the dlcs for, for me it’s the easiest to replay, and yet there’s so much that frustrates me abt it! like, i’m gonna avoid talking abt the actual parts of the writing that bother me, bc that can be it’s own standalone thing, but imo it felt like they never actually solidified what actually caused the mage/templar war? there are those that say anders started it (seems likely), then there are those who talk abt fiona leading the rebel mages in the war? and there, of course, is the “the templars have done wrong but so have they mages and therefore you’re shamed either way for what you do” like i Get what they’re trying to do, trying to encourage players to explore their options and really delve into their own moral values of the game and not just adhere to what the game says, but idk the way they always went abt it always rubbed me some type of wrong

i think part of it is bc, when people mention circle mages turning to blood mages and demons and such like that, it was always framed as “ah these evil mages!” and not “[if these are circle mages] most likely their want for freedom pushed them to that”

does that make it right? no, not necessarily! look at uldred from dao! imo, he was wrong! i don’t like the circle and my warden herself has a complicated relationship with it, but i like that you can say “hey! this is wrong!” without legitimate plot-based “but what if it isn’t?”

of course there will always be companions who push for the more chaotic/harsh choices (morrigan is the one i have the most experience with giving me disapproval for being what i think is nice) (still love her tho), but i think dao handled “okay, look at the big picture, and really think abt what hill u want to die on” stance well

and then there’s the way the mage/templar thing is handled in inquisition vis a vis companions. specifically cullen. and, listen, i as a player have a very complicated relationship with cullen and my heros do too lmao. and i really don’t want to get into the nuances of that bc that can 1) turn into a fight i don’t feel like having and 2) can be it’s own discussion, but basically, from my own perspective, he’s a well-written character who makes for a good antag to a mage-siding hawke in da2 bc of how pro-templar/anti-mage he is. again, don’t agree with any of it (honestly da2 alone puts me on the “okay fuck this” level w/ his character), but it does offer an extreme that is interesting to see. origins is more complicated bc in a game not directly stepped in mage/templar and also a game that stems from 6 different origin stories, it’s very easy to be a non-mage and be like “why do i care abt this guy” (if you get what i’m saying? like i got immediately invested in saving the mages bc my first warden was a circle mage so i was very put off by being told to kill all of them, as compared to if i played a non-mage origin and didn’t really have that background knowledge). but overall, origins and da2 puts cullen on the “pro-templars, mages are more dangerous than they are good side.” and then inquisition is where things get interesting!!

and, for a quick ref, i’m very into getting invested in my characters and really figuring out their morals and what they would actually do, or at least think, so dai becomes interesting bc i play as another elven mage who has never stepped foot in a circle and never will. so, bc of that, i play him as naturally more inclined to not initially Think abt cullen’s past like as a templar bc, as a dalish mage, i hc that he does not know what actually goes on in circles (as compared to my warden, a circle mage, and my hawke, an apostate) (but i hc that, overtime, as he has more and more experiences with templars, he becomes more cognizant of that) (but bioware doesn’t give me the option to just dictate everything my camris lavellan is thinking akjsjkdjk)

and dai-cullen, imo, is actually very interesting! and, tbh, i do have to give it to bioware. i feel like i’m abt to say an unironic controversial opinion, and i feel like i’ve already talked abt the nuances of all of this, but i do think dai did well at reworking cullen’s character. however, i feel like that was also done to feed into the grey-ness of the mage/templars. and, imo, i think they almost did well at actually making cullen show regret for how he treated mages. almost. again, i think there’s a lot of nuance! bc we do see him show some type of regret for how he treated a mage!warden (if he said all that shit like “all these people’s blood are on your hands” if u talk abt not wanting to kill innocent mages) and we do see him step away from templar life (that is, if you tell him to stop taking lyrium)

but!!!! there’s One Thing that puts a thorn in this, and it’s that cullen says something along the lines of, “meredith wasn’t all wrong, she had reason” like bitch!!! no matter what side you choose in da2, you fucking fight meredith!!! she’s wanted to kill innocent mages/make them tranquil even before anders blew up the chantry!!! meredith was all wrong!! she was evil!!!!! she was objectively a harmful person!!!!!!!!! bioware really makes this bitch the final boss of da2 and then has the audacity to say “but maybe she wasn’t all bad” in dai like WHERE IS THIS FOR ORSINO??? ORSINO ISN’T ALL BAD, IS HE???????? OH BUT HE IS BC HE RESORTED TO SUDDEN BLOOD MAGIC IN THE LAST TEN MINUTES OF THE GAME, AS COMPARED TO MEREDITH WHO WAS A DANGER FOR THE ENTIRE FINAL ACT and i digress but the fact that bioware is trying to redeem cullen but also showing that he still sympathizes with a woman who 1) turned against the templars and 2) Literally Everything She Did To The Mages always makes me “hmmmm are u really trying tho :/”

also tho one thing i’m actually not the biggest fan of is that cullen is like “oh i knew hawke in passing........ knew varric in passing.............” meanwhile let’s just cut to everything that happened at kirkwall. this is my own opinion bc i see varric as hawke’s #1 but i personally think that at least half of the comraderie varric and cullen sorta-kinda-had in inq was varric testing the waters of “okay what is cullen going to be like if and when hawke shows up”

also tho i will say a hot-take of mine is that if cullen gets to be redeemed by bioware, then i want something for anders, too, but i doubt bioware would do something so clearly pro-mage. but it could be two sides of the extreme! extremist templar gets redemption, extremist mage does, too! come on, bioware, show your grey morality

(again, i think it’s interesting what they did with cullen in dai and does give some sympathetic light but i also do think the reworking of his character was working towards bioware’s moral-greyness agenda with dragon age. not that that’s necessarily a terrible thing, i understand them wanting some nuance, but it’s the way they do it. like, you can show bad templars and bad mages and still not have “but who is really the bad guy? the oppressors or the oppressed? who is it really?”)

(and also just bc i feel like i need to put my own player claim in this, my opinion on cullen is complicated and also i’m gonna be completely forth-right with u, dear anon, i appreciate cullen in inquisition but, as a whole, he can be terrible to ur warden in dao (that’s not me being shifty it literally just depends on the choice you make in broken circle) and in da2 he’s a nightmare, so bioware had to do a lot of legwork in dai) (tbh tho in my personal-player opinion, if i was to ever romance cullen in inq, it’s not gonna be with a mage)

god this got so out of hand anon i’m so sorry you probably didn’t want this messy essay but i just love talking abt dragon age!!! i think abt it a lot and i have five years worth of headcanons and i have a family tree set up for my surana/lavellan bc of some bullshit i pulled and also!!!! bioware’s writing can get so frustrating but i also think it’s so interesting to pull apart and discuss bc i think the bioware has actually shifted from pro-mage (origins) to neutral-mage (da2 kinda) to anti-mage (dai) and i feel like So Many Choices with characters and their plots reveal that!!! so it’s a frustrating agenda but i also just love dragon age so much that i can’t help but get excited and talk abt it!!!

like, as all things, i do believe there are times when grey morality does work, but, at least from a mage-siding perspective, it hasn’t really landed well for dragon age. bc, and i don’t want to drag in real-life scenarios bc i feel like it would be incredibly inappropriate of me to use any oppressed minority as a comparison for a fantasy world, but it’s the age-old thing of people saying the shitty “but the oppressed fight back and therefore they’re just as bad as the oppressors!” and that’s like....... not how it works.

but also you’ve caught me in a wonderful mood so i feel like, if i was in a bad mood, this would be a lot more “and fucking bioware can’t make a goddamn decision on what side they actually support so instead most of the companions are gonna made rude remarks abt you supporting mages and the ones that support you are seen as distrustful and fuck this and fuck that” but i think that is the joy of loving something with you’re whole heart and also saying “there are so many things abt this that piss me off and so many things that i would change”

and also!!!! ik bioware probably killed my warden so like rip electra surana but i would love for the warden to make an appearance in da4 as a temporary companion/advisor. but! but!!!!!! i also don’t know how much i trust bioware with my “elven mage who is alistair’s mistress and preferred the mages and wanted to free the circles and etc etc etc” bc... idk how to explain it? like, i don’t want them taking my warden and putting words in her mouth that go against choices i meticulously made in dao

[pnwswiftie]

I felt owned by an employer once. He was sexist and baited me into working for him only to turn the tables and gaslight me. And to be honest I’ve never pin pointed the feeling that has sat in my gut about him until recently; until watching my idol go through the same thing on a large scale in front of the world, until what has happened, what has been happening to Taylor Swift in her industry.

Mine was a veterinary surgeon whom I worked with in the past. I left the veterinary field and started a new career. The Vet (we will call him) moved away and when he came back he contacted me with a new idea to start his own practice.

He painted me a beautiful picture of what this clinic would be like. He said he couldn’t do it without me and promised me the world. I still remember the phone call where he said the words- “you will be my practice manager, my right hand, you could run the show and have a handsome career, I’ll make sure you are set for life, you will have an opportunity to buy into the company as well, to profit share.

He offered to pay me whatever my current job paid me. I didn’t jump at saying yes. I worked so hard to be where I was and this was a big risk. My now husband was hesitant and didn’t trust him 🚩 but supportive of whatever I chose (love him). Well, im the only one of me so a month later I took the jump and put in my notice. I trusted him.

I was hired on with one other person. A male, roughly my same age, overall a nice dude. We will call him Sam. I was in charge of all operations of the front desk and all aspects of the business side of things. I started every excel sheet for income tracking, taxes, inventory. I created every document, I created the scheduling program, I set up every vendor accounts. I scanned every piece of paper that came into the clinic doors, I set up our benefits. I answered phones I handled every single client. I visited clinics and preached to people our vision, so they would refer to us (we were a referral based clinic) on my days off. I did it ALL. I also scrubbed into surgery with the Vet and Sam, as there were only 3 of us running the entire show. If the phone rang, I would answer on a headset under my face mask and handle a client or clinic call right there, scrubbed in. I didn’t mind, I felt proud to show off my multitasking skills. He would give a little wink and a joke and the validation felt nice, like I earned his approval 🚩 when I did something above and beyond.

About a year went by and I was rolling in hard earned money, that’s for sure. I was working 7 am to 10 pm some days so I always had overtime. Sam was responsible for 1 thing- patient care, and I was responsible for LITERALLY everything else you could possibly think of. 🚩Needless to say I was getting worked to the BONE 🚩 . I was cool with it tho, this is what I signed up for right? We were growing and successful and getting BUSY!

One day I accidentally found out the pay gap 🚩between myself and Sam. I had been completely naive to the fact that we were not equals, nor was I getting paid “management” but that he made SUBSTANTIALLY more than me. I gave it some energy for a couple days and vented to my husband, then I let it go. Sam was nice, it’s not his fault. 🚩Maybe he’s just worth more than I am to the company, I told myself. 🚩Maybe he has a past history I didn’t know about that made him more valuable. It definitely should have been my red flag 🚩

My relationship with the Vet was kind of like a daughter and father but 🚩 only on his terms. Fun and playful and lots of “your our boss lady!”. It would also take very odd turns, 🚩 having to do small tasks outside my morals. In the office he would call me “the office manager, the boss, it’s all up to you, hospital administrator!” yet on the phone would call me 🚩 “the front desk person” 🚩“my receptionist” to other veterinarians. It bothered me, a lot, but I pushed it away. 🚩Who am I to be that nit picky over a title? 🚩He probably didn’t mean it or misspoke, I thought.

The tricky part is that I only have little under the radar examples of his abuse. 🚩 The ones you can’t QUITE put your finger on, that you can’t QUITE justify quitting on the spot but make you feel 🚩 worthless. They continued every day. He was incredibly sweet and funny, and then 🚩condescending and cruel. It was a roller coaster to try to please him constantly. It wore on me. I came to work and to deal with it I would make lists on scratch paper. Lists of why I was starting to hate my job. Lists that I would read in the car and cry. If I wasn’t cheerful he’d come in with 🚩“PMSING TODAY?” .... I’d laugh n bite my tongue. 🚩 That’s just being friendly playful right, he knows me well enough to say that to me, we’re like family, right? But every day I felt awful. And I needed my job now, more than ever. 🚩 He knew I needed this job, too. We had just put an offer on a house and surprise! we’re now expecting a baby.

Being pregnant changed things. I couldn’t assist in surgery and xrays like I used to. 🚩He would scoff when I would have to leave for prenatal appointments. 🚩 He would be caring and kind one minute, giving me hand me down baby clothes and gifts, and then cold and dry the next. 🚩Sam could and often would sleep in and no call/no show. He would roll in at noon and jump into surgery, acting like nothing happened, they’d joke together about women in front of me and being hung over. I was 5 min late once because of a traffic jam and had to have a “sit down meeting” about attendance. 🚩 I felt so ASHAMED and EMBARRASSED. 🚩 I had never once, NOT EVER, had work problems, attendance problems, behavioral problems, in my entire history of working. This job was my LIFE. 🚩 Was something seriously wrong with me???

The last straw came when I was 6 months pregnant. He claimed that everyone was having a private “check in meeting”. He told me at mine that 🚩him and Sam talked 🚩 and agreed that I’m not the happy bubbly girl I used to be. I sat with him in the shade of a big oak tree in the grass that has since fallen in a wind storm (ironically. He said I would be getting a $1 raise and that he wanted me to take on MORE responsibility since I could no longer assist in surgery and listed basically anything he could possibly think of to tack on to my job to make up for that $1. 🚩 all I could think was... how???? I was already drowning. I finally got courage this time and said NO. My lip quivered and tears ran down my face with 🚩 stress. I brought up valid arguments but looking back I wish my voice wasnt so timid. Or that I had the courage to call out just one, ONE instance of his inappropriate behavior. But lastly, 🚩 I asked why is my title “FRONT DESK PERSON” when Sam is now “Lead Surgery Operations Director (Who Does No Wrong)??

His response sticks with me to this day. It was painful and degrading and I will never forget it. After working my ass off and building this place from the bottom, the long nights and everything I gave them... I also will never forget his 🚩 smirk . “Well you see, giving you a title like that would be like rewarding a BAD DOG with a BONE” 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

🚩I was devastated. 🚩And confused. 🚩I’m a BAD DOG???

I stuck it out for the remainder of my pregnancy, working the 12 hour days up until I went into labor at work. I trained a new girl on every process, excel spread, schedule I had developed and created. I put on a fake smile and wrote my scratch lists and re-read my lists on the way home and cried. I couldn’t just quit. I couldn’t let my family down.

We had our baby and stared at his tiny toes and fingers and cried every single day that I may have to go back to my hell job. I interviewed for different clinics while on leave. I was desperate. The vet was on a sweet streak- 🚩 sending us gifts, having his wife cook us meals and checking in on us all the time. He frequently asked what date I was coming back. He informed me that when I came back I would need to take the later shift and give the new girl my current shift. 🚩She needed it, he said. He said we could discuss the title of “lead receptionist” now and could 🚩 continue to work towards my goal of hospital manager. 🚩 I accepted but I felt sick. 🚩 I felt like I had to go back to work for someone who I couldn’t trust. I felt like he owned me in the worst possible way. (At one time he even tried to tell me I had half of the PTO that I actually had saved up for maternity leave, another 🚩🚩🚩 but I saved my paystubs as PROOF)

Today I work for the clinic that we shared the building with. When they heard I left they immediately offered me a position. The Vet left to purchase his own facility. He acted shocked and surprised and in disbelief that I wasn’t returning. At first it was tough, not gonna lie. We literally ate noodles for a year because I went down to part time. But the bravest thing I ever did was RUN ♥️ I now LOVE my job and they treat their employees wonderfully and equally and have real life morals.

I actually didn’t intend for this to be a novel LOL but even if not a single soul reads this, it’s therapeutic for me to actually get my thoughts down after almost 6 years now. My advice is to ALWAYS trust your gut. TRUST THE 🚩 RED 🚩 FLAGS. Don’t let anyone make you question your character. Never EVER ACCEPT being controlled and manipulated against your morals. Choose the future over time spent in the past (thanks T @taylorswift) and work somewhere that respects you. That pays you FAIRLY. Don’t be afraid to TELL your story too because this has to STOP (I’ve almost deleted this whole thing 13x) If it happened to me I can’t imagine how many other women it happens to. Anyway if you read this then holy shit here’s a hug and CHIN UP YOU ARE WORTHY, YOU ARE NOT A BAD DOG. ♥️

[teddy-feathers]

my bare minimum is more than other people's bare minimum. i know that and i dare you to prove otherwise. however. i am vocal about. things. "not in a mean way it youre addiment about not starting before you can get paid"

like duh? im also pretty serious that

you need to take the thirty because theyre taking it out of your paycheck regardless. legally they have to. legally you have to. screwing yourself to keep going MIGHT help us get done faster buuut in reality? you damage your body and make it harder to keep going the next day.

"ill get more rest if we get done early" dude i need a thor reaction image for real life because honestly? (x) DOUBT

in addition - no. you set a standard. "hey the team can get done by x time despite being a man, or two men down" like no? you give 110% everyday and no more. because if you squeeze out a good day of 200% effort that becomes the standared and thats not sustainable.

if were not good workers thats one thing. but if we're doing our job to the best of our ability than you cant act like im in the wrong for saying fuck giving more.

the job doesnt care for you. and no amount of caring about the job is going to make it care about you or change what is.

andd you cant self exploit for work. not legally and not morally. and that... you think its okay to do so. or necessary is bad. "boss said.we should be done by x time" cool. we werent we werent slacking so this is what we have to deal with now. we're down by 7 and when short people THATS the goal. full team yes absolutely 630nno excuse.

but this attitude of "were short we have to make up for it" ? no. if we're honestly good which i dare you to say were not go on i dare you is not okay.

if you csn do with a four man team why would.you need a five man team? like honestly? and the answer is because you expect us to be super human.

that we expect that of ourselves is one thing

but its not good management, not good practice to essentially punish people for doing their job, doing their best.

pushing their people believeing in them that they can do better or seeing that theyre having a slow day and moving them along is fine and excpected, but i can guarantee and if i wanted i could prove paul is cheating himself out of at least 15 minutes a day. and today the idiot is feeling superior because he's taken a 10 minute lunch in a job where we dont get the normal two 15 minute breaks, work overtime on a full time job on a regular basis.

[my-mystic-messenger]

Is Jumin a bad boss to Jaehee?

Why thank you! (*≧∀≦*) I actually really wanted to tackle this ask a long time ago but as you might have noticed I hit a slump and yeah...sorry I'm getting back to you so late. But without further ado, let's dig in!

I know I might be a little biased when it comes to Jumin, but in all honesty I don't feel like his request is anything abnormal per se nor would I call him a bad boss. Especially considering that Mystic Messenger is set in Korea where society does work a little differently than it does here in the West, notably when it comes to work and work morale. In Korea it's really important to look a certain part. Beauty standards are even higher than they are in the West and plastic surgery is something you get as a birthday present, I am not joking. The same obsession with perfection is often times extended to fashion. If you have a certain position, you simply have to look the part. I mean if you think about it, uniforms are extremely common in Korea and from a young age at that. There are Kindergardens who already have a dress code and uniforms for the children to wear, something that will continue on for the rest of their school career. So Jumin expecting his employee's to dress a certain way is basically the same thing, isn't? In my opinion, there isn't really anything wrong about that part of the whole deal. After all you don't see lawyers swaggering into court in sweatpants or teachers coming to school in mini-skirts with their breasts hanging out. It's just part of working in a professional environment in which such things are required. The haircut and the glasses...those are a whole different deal. Now the haircut is where I agree with you, that's not really a request you should be able to make. Hair takes ages to grow and can't just be taken off at the end of your shift like a specific outfit. It's especially important to many women and cutting it seems like a huge deal-breaker for most, let alone for a job. Here's the deal though: Jaehee agreed to it. However unreasonable the request might seem, in the end it was up to her to decide whether she would agree to his terms or not and quite frankly, I'm convinced that if she'd said no, he wouldn't have forced her. Jumin isn't evil and he most certainly isn't a bad boss. However he isn't good with social cues and if you don't show a backbone and give him a straight no, he'll mow you over. That's precisely the issue with Jaehee and one of the reasons I really don't like her. She has absolutely no backbone for all but her own route and even there she only grows one thanks to you. Jumin forced Elizbathe the 3rd on her because she allows him to. Jumin makes her do extra work, because she allows him to. She never firmly says no and then has the audacity to complain about it.

Frankly, Jumin is an amazing boss seeing how much Jaehee gets away with. Imagine being in a chat room with your boss and gossiping about him 24/7 – with all his close acquaintances and friends none the less – and him actually being fine with it. Like shit, in any other situation you'd be fired for unprofessionalism, insult and slander! Not to mention that he pays very well as well as paying her overtime hours which if you know Asia, is not a common thing. In Japan for example people work overtime, multiple hours at a time, and the first one to leave is usually looked at negatively despite already having done more than his actual work hours. They don't even dream about Jaehee's work conditions and pay. Also him actually being a good boss goes beyond the amazing pay and freedom Jaehee has. He genuinely cares for her. No boss ever takes the time to care for his employee's, especially not someone as big, busy and influential as Jumin. He also appreciates her so much and values her work, sharing as much with her. Honestly, other people would call themselves lucky to work for Jumin. Now as for his father's girlfriends, I give you that, he does get quite weird about them. Frankly, I understand where he is coming from though. His way of going about it isn't really normal, but I get what he was trying to do both consciously as well as subconsciously, I believe. Now here is were things get a little more complicated. Consciously he obviously wants to keep his father away from Jaehee for a multitude of reasons. He doesn't like his father jumping from women to women – which I've said multiple times is due to his childhood trauma with his 'mothers', his perfectionism in which such behaviour doesn't fit in as well as fear for the company's and his father's reputation – especially not his assistant. However, I think there is another subconscious level to his behaviour. For one, I think it shows just how much he value's Jaehee. I know this might sound strange, but to me it's a sign that he's so fond of her and her work, he wants to make sure that he gets to keep her which wouldn't be the case if his father seduced and swept her away. In a way, Jaehee is irreplaceable to him. I think there is more to it though and I know this will sound far-fetched but bear with me here: In an instinctual way, Jumin claimed her as his own and wants to mark his territory by making her less appealing to other males. This might sound a little crazy, but it's actually quite the typical male behaviour if you think about it. Men like to make sure that other men know, when a woman belongs to them. Both in animals as well as humans men are very protective of their women. Look no further than the Middle East where men expect their women to cover up everything just to make sure no other man looks at them. It's a primal feeling I'm convinced Jumin experienced. Now I'm not saying he has feelings for Jaehee, he absolutely doesn't. We do know, however, that Jumin is a very possessive man and I think that is what drove him to making especially sure that Jaehee would remain by his side. All her gossiping aside, she isn't after his money or influence and looks and I think he can genuinely relax around her. I think that is why he needs he so much more than he did all the assistants before her and why he takes extra precautions to make sure she remains by his side. All in all his methods aren't 100% kosher, but it just goes to show how much he actually cares in his own, slightly twisted way. He is a weird boss, but he really isn't a bad one.

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: GM 27 - TOR

2-1 OT Loss

This was 95% of a perfect Buffalo Sports holiday weekend. We got the big, National TV Josh Allen coming out party against Dallas on Thanksgiving followed by a win over the Maple Leafs in Buffalo and an OT loss up in Toronto the following night. Barring Eichel ripping home the OT winner this was almost the best we could’ve asked for. Walking out of the Calgary game in the pouring rain Wednesday I just felt lost with this team. Sure, the last five or so games have looked better than the prior ten in several metrics, but the actual W’s were still few and far between. Friday afternoon in Buffalo we got the win. Saturday evening in Toronto we got damn close to another. Three out of four points in this home-and-home series is awfully nice. I’ve been very forward saying there cannot be anymore moral victories with this team: not in year five of Eichel and year two of Dahlin. This club has underachieved for too long. But in instances like this you got to acknowledge the significance of how a two-game series can make a difference. It’s not just the eye test effects; take a look at the heat maps getting thrown around after these two game and you can see shots coming from the right places. The expected goals, the advanced stat I proclaimed was the harbinger of doom as the hot start faded, its picking up again. Corsi, yeah it’s picking up too! The thing you can take from each game from this one back to the Florida Panthers game, other than five points, is that the Sabres maybe bouncing back from an absolutely ghastly stretch. They maybe bouncing back like they never managed to last season after resurrecting the love of hockey in this City like Easter morning during the ten-game winning streak. If they can’t be consistently good right now, the next best thing is the ability to bounce back. What’s that motivational buzzword: perseverance?

Master motivator Ralph Krueger better be yelling that one in the locker room if we’re getting our bang for the buck out of him. We can ride him all we want about roster optimization but that’s what fans do good or bad and frankly; I don’t think he’s going to mess up the deployment WHEN his boss makes the trade we’ve been waiting for. They’re two points out of second in the Atlantic Division. If you want to get a GM’s attention for the necessity of a single trade, show them how it can make a difference in the standings right now. A top six forward makes a difference in the standings right now. Something about playing the Leafs makes me very long-winded on the prefaces. This game proved what a boon another top six winger would be for this club. Three players scored this game: William Nylander, Rasmus Ristolainen, and John Tavares. You might notice only one of those guys is a Sabre. The next thing you may notice is that Sabre is a guy most would consider not a part of the future of this team anymore. We can point at all the opportunities in this game that didn’t come to fruition while on the other hand also saying, yeah: another real goal scorer in the top six would be nice. Hate them or hate them (those are your only two options) the Leafs know who their guys are. They’ve committed tens of millions of dollars to four or five guys who are therefore paid to score goals or in Andersen’s case prevent them. When they don’t score or block enough the team is screwed. However you may feel about that model it’s gotten them three straight playoff appearances and that’s more than we can say about Buffalo. I’d sell an internal organ for a first-round sweep at this point. They could lose each game by six goals and most of South Buffalo would still be dangerously hammered climbing light poles. Make a trade, Jason. We get it, you find this defensive depth intoxicating but if you listen to what you Head Coach is telling you he certainly isn’t. He wants to optimize the roster and he certainly doesn’t want to get called Housley 2.0. The Bills don’t play for a week, buddy; do you think YOUR boss doesn’t have the time to notice something like that? Get the smart-ass bloggers like me off your back before that pesky fracking baron who pays you realizes how friggin close we are and forces you into another Ryan O’Reilly trade! Where was I going with this?

Oh yeah, another goal scorer taking pot shots at Fredrik Andersen and maybe you seal up the full four points out of this weekend against the Leafs. The Jack Eichel Sabres will respond to that kind of morale bump. Marcus Johansson got called for slashing Cody Ceci and before you know it William Nylander is deking an Auston Matthews assisted shot over Carter Hutton’s shoulder like he was doing a magic trick. We could have a whole separate talk about how special teams is a crapshoot on this team but I’m kinda proud of myself for getting through two Leafs games without putting on the EXPLCIT tag and I don’t want to mess it up now. About seven minutes into the third period Rasmus Ristolainen took a puck in from the boards slowly but surely and this putrid Leafs defense let him all the way to Andersen where he deked in the equalizer. We got the absolute sexiest version of Rasmus Ristolainen this game and not anyone else really. Not even two minutes into the overtime period John Tavares and his unit were just buzzing around with the puck in the Sabres zone. He was covered by Victor Olofsson when we ripped a shot that appeared to not even be on target. However, the hockey gods get the most LOLs out of things going wrong for the Sabres, so Carter Hutton reached his glove out and the puck deflected in off of that. 2-1 OT loss done deal. Okay, to be fair a lot more happened in this game than the score will tell you. Ilya Mikheyev showed us how it’s done in Mother Russia and speared Sam Reinhart right in the nuts without getting called. Jeff Skinner got pissed. Conor Sheary scored a goal that didn’t count because when it crossed the line it was in Andersen’s glove and remember those heat maps I mentioned earlier? Well the Sabres let precisely zero shots from what one might consider the “net front” area while taking a high number of shots from those spots in their own right. Say what you will about the Leafs this season, the Sabres played good offensively and pretty good defensively to get this result.

So you probably don’t want Carter Hutton letting in that OT goal. I don’t see why he wouldn’t put out his glove there though. It probably looked like it could’ve gone in from his angle. Nonetheless it’s an excuse for me to proclaim that the tide has turned: Linus Ullmark is now the starter and Hutton is the backup. We were predicting this would happen last season but here we are with King Ullmark just in time for Christmas. Each time Hutton gets called new Lehner my Ullmark jersey gets a little bit prettier. Enough piling on, I think we can all agree this home-and-home series would’ve been bulletproof had it been four points. Since its three, also more than we probably expected, we probably need a dominating performance tomorrow night against a struggling Devils team to really make it seem like we’re back on track. The very vocal pessimist party on Sabres twitter will probably second guess it until there is an x next to the team in the standings but the resurgence is on. Go beat up the Devils Monday night and fly to Western Canada with the confidence it takes to win in this league. If you have trouble finding that confidence just ask Jimmy Vesey: he went from zero to hero in one week. Confidence is one hell of a drug. Like, comment and reply to this blog to help out. Happy Holidays.

But wait, I’d be a coward to not talk about it. The scandals unfolding right now that originated with Bill Peters and Akim Alui are not a witch hunt. Don’t be a dumbass. Hockey as a sport is not growing. The way the league points to it growing is farcical at best. The sport is shrinking because it’s a rich white kid sport with an ugly culture to match. As North America gets more diverse hockey is not keeping up. Not only is it not keeping up its proving at every turn that it prefers the racist failings of a generation of boomer coaches who get recycled over and over again to any real movement toward inclusivity. Bill Peters thought it was okay to yell the N word about one of his non-white player’s music in a packed locker room. The Ontario Hockey League, twenty something clubs across the most populace province in Canada, thought it was okay to blacklist a kid in his NHL Draft Year as a troublemaker because he got in a fight AFTER one of the most notorious instigators in this sport called him a racial slur. Alui was essentially booed out of Windsor for standing up for himself. Top to bottom this sport is not for everyone and if we have any hopes of saving it for coming generations we have to listen to guys like Akim Alui without feeling like the whole sport is under attack. It’s called learning and growing. It’s something this sport has trouble with far less important issues. The Steve Dangle Podcast is one of my go-to’s on a regular basis. You should listen to it. It’s a lot of Leafs talk but the way they discussed this reckoning here was brilliant. It’s not about what kinda guy Peters or Babcock are. Peters turns out to be a real bad guy. It’s about the fact that hockey allows the culture for people to feel comfortable talking like that. This state of affairs isn’t okay and frankly painting it in your quasi-political culture wars colors is not helpful. That’s harmful. Those last two sentences were me. I felt the need to say this after what’s been going around this week. Please, don’t be a dumbass. I’m looser with the mute button on twitter these days. Don’t be a dumbass, listen. Please just listen. It’s what we need more of these days. That’s it for me. I’m just some blogger. Go listen to someone’s story who’s actually effected by it. Let’s be better people to each other. Let’s Go Buffalo.

Thanks for Reading.

P.S. I feel like close second in Greatest Game Against the Leafs in Sabres history is Punch Imlach’s return to Toronto in 1970. The newspaper clippings are great. Not only did the expansion Sabres beat their Coach’s former team, there was a Sabres fan who gave Imlach a sabre which he had with him for postgame. That’s how you fire the first shot in a rivalry.

[jinxyme]

Today ended a calm that was in my life. When you work and have a disability especially a mood disorder having regularity and stability becomes essential to your day to day. I’ve had my job 2 years and in that time I went through my store being renovated and everything changing, changing how to do our jobs, and changing bosses. All things that I could handle. Didn’t handle it well but I definitely tried my best, pushed through and stayed with it. Two years I have dedicated my time my effort and all my brain power to make sure my job ran smoothly. Now none of that would have mattered without my boss. She was great, she was dedicated, and she cared for our department and our team so much. She took the job when no one else wanted it and shaped our department into the most functional it could be. We started in the trash I’m not going to lie. I had the job a month and a half and was barely tried for it yet when she took over she asked for imput and wanted to know what she could do better for us. She took the time to learn from other stores and made the department so fucking strong. Strong enough that we could handle being on our own. Today was her last day. She had a job opportunity that she couldn’t pass up and I don’t blame for her a second. She always did what was best for us and now she finally did what was best for her. I will miss her like crazy. She helped stabilize me honestly. On shitty days I knew that I could trust her for help small or big. She was always dependable. The whole fucking store can attest to this too. She was always at work. Who need to go home when you can be at work. She’s going to fucking rock it at her new job and I know this because she never gives up. If she doesn’t know it she will learn it. She won’t back down and she will get it done. She is a force to be reckoned with and I feel bad for who gets in her way next.

This isn’t the only problem that happened though. The job opportunity came and then all the stability of my department fell to shit. We have always been separate from our store. We had our own little department in the corner that we could laugh at the cashiers suffering through rush hour because we never had to help. We were a separate contract. It was amazing it’s honestly why I took the job and why I stayed with the job because I did not want to be in the store. Large crowds of people freak me out and being up front and dealing with customers is not for me. All we had to deal with was people over the phone and that’s one at a time. Never a crowd never a problem. You have the angry customer here and there but if you spoke calmly enough it could end peacefully. Last week though we were told by the end of the month that will be no longer. We will no longer be separate, we will be conjoined and there is no way out of it. They kept trying to reassure us that we wouldn’t just be forced out into the store that we would be able to still keep most of us in our department. You know only the bottom few people might have to be on the floor but as the week went on we just kept being told different stories and different ways they were going to do it and different everything. Now this once again go back to I don’t handle change well. I don’t handle people well. I don’t handle. I have learned to deal with the mood swings. I have learned to deal with the anger that pops out a lot but I never fucking learned how to deal with change. It honestly feels like I am being tossed in a lake in the middle of January with no clothes. Stuck from the shock of the cold water, drowning so quickly with no escape. All the while I have literally everyone telling me to deal with it stick it out and that it will be fine. No one bothers to take in to account the fact that it’s already hard enough when scheduling used to switch my shifts on me but now everything can just be switched. If my hours don’t fit well in my department I will get stuck doing what the store wants me to do and there isn’t a way to stop it. Cause I can’t just call in sick. I can’t just avoid the shift and I sure as hell cant avoid the people. Maybe this would all be okay if there wasn’t as many fucking people but that’s not the case because a store in told closed down and it was the only other fucking store in the downtown core. Hmmmmmmmm I wonder why my store is all of a sudden overwhelmed with people so much that we are not constantly busy in the store from 9:30am till5:45pm. Then another beautiful rush of people from 7pm- closing time because our town runs on munchies and our convenience stores have bad hours and bad prices so it’s never worth it. We used to be busy from 11am -5:45pm but it was so much more manageable. The cashiers weren’t overwhelmed. The store staff wasn’t constantly busy showing people around. Now we are just fucked in the store and we are just told to not try to fight with customers over prices or whatever it may be and just give up because there are honestly so many more of them and definitely not enough of us. I am now getting yelled at by people in the store because I am not on tills and I am not helping them grab stuff and I am not showing them how the store works. I do understand that coming to a new store is a shitty feeling because if you’re used to going to another store for the past 5-10 years we’re their layout is the opposite of ours because shockingly enough they were a competitor. I’m sorry we don’t have pickles in the same isle as the other store. I’m sorry you didn’t see juice boxes on the sign and missed the isle you wanted to go down. I’m sorry that our coffee is split up between natural coffee and Folgers and stuff. I didn’t make the floor plan. I don’t get to pick where things go. I don’t even get to pick where I go now. Please don’t get mad at me. That might have gotten a little off topic sorry.

The problem with the merge with the store is all the people in our department chose it because we have health problems mental problems you name it we have someone who’s got it. So we honestly can’t really do the other jobs in the store. I am not going to lie when I was hired they shoved me into the department because after the orientation day they realized that If i worked in the store I wouldn’t have made it past like day 2. They were not wrong. I get why they want us in the store. We do understand till work. We know how to technically put things onto shelves. We know how to talk to customers but that doesn’t mean that we are suited for it. We have to do returns so we have to know the tills. We have to talk to customers in the store cause we are on the floor a lot. We’ve technically all helped out in other departments but I have thought about this a lot and I don’t know a single department that I could handle for more then an hour or two because they’ve all been hell. They are all run barely. Having my department separate was great because when shit went wrong in the store and we got in shit for it I would take it to the store mangers I would tell them the other departments failures (expired products,poor quality, opened packages) and they would be told in their own separate meeting they needed to be more careful with what they put on the shelf. What happens now though. Are they still to be held accountable? Or is it now my fault because I will be working in all the departments too. Why should it be my fault when I do my job correctly when I am there. I always take the expired products off the shelf. I always check the packaging. And I always make sure what ever I am grabbing is of the best quality we have. All these little things are getting my head wrapped to the point were I am so close to just quitting. What actually brings me back to my boss. The rock star. She overworked herself ever single fucking week. She did overtime she did double shifts. She would do like full 10 hour shifts without eating or sitting but just drinking more coffee. Because of this no one in my department wanted her position. They all say how exhausted she was. The store saw it also so no one from in the store wants the job either. We had 2 applicants for the job. One retracted their application after the interview and the other has no experience in managing or what our department is so why would you bother applying? I know I said she prepped us to be on our own but she only was able to prep maybe 3-4 of us. So we have so many who are going to just be lost without her direction. Who do we go to with our problems now. What are we supposed to do if someone calls asking for a supervisor. I honestly don’t know. All this is just fucking me up sideways and it’s so fucking mentally exhausting. So much so that I am pushing myself away from people because I am so worried that I am going to have a swing and just freak out. That I am going to break down and just give up. That I am going to lose all the progress I have made to be a better person. I am so scared that I am going to lose me. The person I’ve become with the routine and the schedule and the freedom that came with it. I have lows here and there and I have my highs but I have been controlling them. I’ve taken care of myself and all of this change is unraveling what I have put together.

The worst part is it’s last change because we were also told that we would be getting double the work load starting in July. That we would be busy then ever. That we would be upping our radius and serving even more people. So with the store changing us having no management and our department getting ripped apart we were then told that with the little moral we had left that now we will have to do double the work and do it faster. They expected us just be a mat to walk on. They wanted us to not question anything that’s been given and just do it. I don’t know if I will be able to handle it. I am fighting myself every day because so much of this just doesn’t seem worth it. When it was our department and our space and our work then I had no problem with any changes they threw at me but not that we aren’t separate I don’t know how to handle it. My boyfriend told me to start thinking about what I actually want to do with my life but I honestly don’t know. I was fantastic at what I have been doing. I knew it wasn’t going to be for life but I’ve never been very good at life plans. Just short term goals and that was fine but I should have started thinking about what I want to do for a living. What I want to be and who do I want to be. I honestly love working with my hands but because my hands are so damaged from the exzema it makes it hard to do something dedicated like that. I know desk jobs aren’t for me either because I’ve been there I’ve done that and it was horrible. So after that what is there really for me to do. You can’t make a living off of being a cashier part time. I’m fucking lost and I have to be up in 4 and a bit hours.