#like it’s almost difficult for me to shower sometimes and not because of depression but because i don’t deserve to shower

[get-more-bald]

when you're an inherently bad person🤪

[noramoons]

seasons (waiting on you).

pairing: yeonjun x reader, (eventual) taehyun x reader

genre: college au, angst, slight fluff at the end

rating: T/13+

word count: 16.5k (i am so sorry)

warnings: explicit language, one (1) mention of alcohol, descriptions of a breakup, depression and anxiety depictions, mentions of harmful behaviors and thoughts, just so many post-breakup emotions being described for way too long BUT angst with a happy ending :)

summary: when your high school sweetheart choi yeonjun is off to grad school, you aren’t too worried about how your relationship will last—but your favorite coworker, kang taehyun, is.

OR:

a study in the seasons of loving and losing choi yeonjun—and how you put yourself back together afterwards.

playlist: telepath - conan grey, let you break my heart again - laufey, back 2 u (A.M. 01:27) - nct 127, i don’t know you anymore - eric nam, drive - ashton irwin, seasons (waiting on you) - future islands

I. PROLOGUE. 

Loving Yeonjun was like watching a meteor shower cross the sky. It was beautiful, and you considered yourself blessed to have been able to see it with your own eyes—but like everything else in life, it was inevitable that it had to end. 

And it ended too soon.

You still remember the day he transferred to your high school—everyone had practically stared as he walked down the hallway, beaming politely at the people at he passed on his way to his first class. He was like a celebrity almost instantly, and not just because he was a transfer student—Choi Yeonjun was beautiful, and jaw-droppingly so, at that. 

You ended up having two classes with him, to the mostly-pretend envy of your friends. They did all say that they would be far too nervous to even try to talk to someone like Choi Yeonjun, but you didn't feel that way. He was stunningly handsome, certainly—but he was still just a high schooler like you. You didn't feel intimidated by him in the same way that your friends clearly did. 

So one day you offered to help him with Mrs. Jung's pre-calculus homework—she was a notoriously difficult math teacher, but this was the second year you'd had her. You knew what to expect with her by that point. You didn't, however, know what to expect with your offer towards Yeonjun—it was just a passing remark you made at the end of class that you would be more than happy to give him some pointers on how to pass her quizzes if he ever needed them. Nothing too serious. 

But he'd looked up at you. Blinked. And then smiled, meeting your gaze with those soft bright eyes that practically made you melt right then and there in that classroom. "Thank you," he'd said, as genuine a thank you as you'd ever heard.  "I'd love that. Could I ask you for another favor, actually?" 

You weren't entirely sure what he was going to say next, but you nodded anyway, despite your gut telling you no. 

"Can you tell me some good places to eat here? My family just moved—you know that, obviously, but I'm getting kind of tired of takeout every single night. So if you have any recommendations that, um...aren't chain restaurants, I'd appreciate it a lot." He had laughed slightly nervously after that. 

Something fluttered within your chest. Oh. Choi Yeonjun, for all his good looks and charming attitude, was kind of awkward, too. 

It just made you melt even more. 

You did end up telling him the best local places to eat in your city, surprising yourself with your own bravery when you told him you wouldn't mind showing them to him yourself sometime—and he replied with that reassuring smile once again. "I'd love that, too," he'd said. 

You'd exchanged numbers, but you didn't really think anything would come of it—it was always possible that Yeonjun had just been polite, after all. He surprised you once again, though, with a text that weekend asking to meet him at the breakfast bar you had recommended. 

Just me? you'd asked. 

Yeonjun had responded within minutes. Just you. 

On Saturday, you stressed for nearly an hour over what to wear, trying on combination after combination of outfits. Everything you had was too old (there's a difference between vintage and gross). Too new (trying too hard, much?). Too short (what will he think of you?). Not short enough (did you time-travel in from the 1800s?). But eventually, you settled on something that was just slightly above casual wear and made your way to the restaurant to be ten minutes early.

Yeonjun was there before you, giving you a small wave when you pushed open the door to the restaurant. You'd thought someone as cool in appearance like him wouldn't be the kind of person to get somewhere super early, even earlier than you—bur Choi Yeonjun seemed to be the kind of person who just kept surprising you. His outward appearance that made nearly everyone you knew practically fall at his feet clearly wasn't all there was to him. 

You learned quite a bit more about Yeonjun that day, and you'd continue to learn more when he asked you to meet him for lunch again later that week. He wanted a dog, but the apartment he was living in with his family wouldn't allow it. He listened to just about every kind of music you'd ever heard. He was a good, genuine kind of listener, hanging on your every word whenever it was your turn to speak. It was a little detail, but you would've been lying if you said it hadn't made your heart beat faster every time you noticed it. 

It wasn't until the third outing that you finally gathered up the courage to ask him what had been on your mind since that very first invitation. "Yeonjun?" you asked, almost stuttering on his name as it passed your lips. Get it together. 

He looked up from his bowl of noodles. "Mmm-hmm?"

"Is this, um...is this a date?" 

He only hesitated for an instant. "Is that okay? I mean," he had started, trying to hold your gaze, "would you want it to be?"

You nodded, maybe too quickly. "I would."

The grin that instantly tugged the corners of his lips immediately melted any insecurities you'd had away. That was always what being around Yeonjun was like—he just set you at ease. 

You felt that same way a month later, when you'd agreed to meet him at an art museum downtown that you'd mentioned wanting to go to. He'd led you through the halls, warm hand in yours, gazing at the different paintings hung on the walls together—different expressions of love and hate and sorrow and every expression that man could expel into a paintbrush. 

Well—you had been staring at the medley of colors and brush strokes on the painting directly in front of you. Yeonjun, unbeknownst to you, hadn't taken his eyes off you since you'd walked into this particular room. "I have something to tell you," he'd said. "I...I don't like beating around the bush with these kinds of things."

You turned to face him at the sudden declaration. Your heart was pounding against your chest loud enough that you wondered if Yeonjun could hear it, but you swallowed down your nervousness and nodded. 

He took your silent reply as confirmation to keep going. "I like you," he said, never looking away from your eyes for an instant. "I want to keep going out with you, if that's something you want." 

You remember thinking that Yeonjun had to have been able to hear how loud your heart was from inside your chest—you'd never felt that kind of nervous excitement before in your life. Still, you managed to nod again, smiling softly at his words. "I'd really like that too, Yeonjun. Because I like you too." 

He'd beamed at you, looking at you like you were the only thing in the room, as if you were a piece of art to be marveled at despite the awe-inspiring works surrounding both of you—and you returned that grin as much as you could. 

And now you're here, years away from that day where you and Yeonjun had both confessed. It's like everything has fallen into place just like it was meant to. 

It's the longest relationship you've ever been in, not to mention the first long-term relationship you've ever had, and you've been fascinated by the way it has evolved. Seeing Yeonjun when you walk into a room doesn't fill you with nervous excitement anymore; rather, it calms you down, simply grounding you with his presence. You don't feel nervous about bringing your concerns to him, worried about what he might think about  you when you overanalyze the conversation afterwards—instead, you take comfort in the fact that he brings his concerns to you, too. He loves you. And you love him. 

You'd spent a year apart when he had graduated high school before you, but you'd promised with teary eyes as you helped him move into his college dormitory that you'd keep this going if that was what he wanted. "Don't, um...don't forget about me while you're having fun at college," you'd quipped in the parking lot right before you left. It was a joke (mostly), but Yeonjun had heard the worry in your voice. He'd smiled at you then, just like he had all those years ago. 

"Of course," he'd said, holding you tightly to his chest in an attempt to not betray any of his own worries about the next year. "You'll have to try a little harder to get rid of me, I hope you know." 

You did know—there was never any doubt in your mind that he loved you just as much as you loved him. Yeonjun had always kept his promises, and that year apart didn't change a thing. He made sure the two of you FaceTimed at least once a week, even during his exam seasons, and both of you always sent a goodnight, i love you text every day, even if it was the only thing you said to each other that day. You'd surprise him occasionally, making a trip up to his university to visit and spoil him all weekend, taking him wherever he wanted to eat, and he'd do the same to you on weekends he could come home. 

You had been so proud of both of you for keeping that relationship alive for the year you were apart, and Yeonjun was overjoyed when you told him you'd gotten into the university he was currently attending. It wasn't long before you were side-by-side every day once again, just like you'd been in high school, and you were still just as in love as you were back then. 

Yeonjun is remarkably smart—but you knew that already, knew it even when you offered to help him with pre-calculus back in high school. That's why it doesn't surprise you when he's able to graduate college early, on top of getting multiple grad school offers for his Master's degree. He takes you with him to tour the schools he's looking at, even though he knows you won't be there for a while—you're as much a part of his decision-making-process as he is. You'd waited for him in that interval before you'd gone to college—you can wait for him here, too.

Being with Yeonjun was like a dream, all of it. 

You suppose you had to wake up eventually.

II. FALL

It surprises you when those seeds of doubt begin to sow themselves in your mind. It's been three months since Yeonjun has left for grad school across the country, but you can count the number of times he's called to check on you on both hands. You know you aren't the same lovesick teenagers you were when he had gone off for college and left you for a year in high school, but you had thought that it wouldn't be that different.

But a good relationship is nothing without communication—you and Yeonjun haven't made it work this long without reminding each other occasionally to keep in touch. So you send him a quick text. 

< everything going okay? miss u <33

You don't have time to wait around for his reply, though—your shift at the university library starts in just under thirty minutes, so you decide you'd better go ahead and head that way.

Your coworkers are all lounging against the front desk when you clock in, clipping your nametag underneath your collar. "What's so funny?" you ask, tilting your head at their sudden giggling. 

Taehyun points towards the study corrals. "Kai's drooling." 

"I am not," Kai interrupts, frowning. "I..."

He trails off as a girl walks out of one of the study corrals, pulling her headphones out of her tote bag before placing them delicately over her ears, smiling softly as her music starts before she heads for the doors. 

You share a knowing glance with Taehyun, who smirks at you. He's been a close comfort as you've started university—you feel blessed to get along with all your coworkers, but Taehyun is someone you've meshed with practically right from the start. Your majors are in the same department, so you've had quite a bit of overlap with your required classes—you and Taehyun have already spent many a day off together back in the library, comparing notes and cramming for quizzes together. He's a much better note-taker than you, which is slightly aggravating, but your memory is better than his, so you usually remember class material better than he does. It's an unusual equivalent exchange between the two of you, but you're both pleased with how well it's worked so far. Not to mention how easy he is to spend time with—you swear your study sessions with Taehyun almost always feel like minutes instead of hours. It reminds you, sometimes, of how your first few dates with Yeonjun had gone (this, of course, is a thought you squash the moment it appears). 

"Oh, my God," Kai says, practically groaning even as you and Taehyun giggle at him. "She's so cute. What am I going to do?" 

Taehyun turns to you, smirking. "What do you think? Think he's got a chance?" 

You raise both your hands in mock self-defense. "Hey, this is all between Kai and that girl. Besides, I'd never date a coworker. Just gets too messy, you know?" 

Beomgyu pokes his head out from organizing the storage closet behind you. "Aren't you literally dating Yeonjun?"

You scoff. "I'll have you know I was dating Yeonjun long before he worked here. Or before I worked here, either." Yeonjun had only worked at the university library his first year, but he'd gotten along really well with Soobin, one of the managers, and putting in a good word for you certainly didn't hurt when you had told him you were looking for a job at the start of the school year.

Beomgyu makes a face. "Well. Shady application or not—you're reshelving the architecture textbooks upstairs since you're almost late." 

You aren't late, actually—you've clocked in five minutes early, but you don't quite have the energy for getting into a mostly-pretend argument with Beomgyu today. So you offer him a wink before grabbing a handful of architecture textbooks from the desk and heading upstairs to the art section. 

You pass several couples studying together on your way up to the third floor. Only a few are really studying, though—most have notebooks and laptops spread out, sure, but just about every other couple on a study date of their own is putting much more emphasis on the date part, rather than the study part. 

Not that you blame them at all—you and Yeonjun used to do the same thing. You remember plenty of study sessions where you'd gaze up from your computer to find Yeonjun taking a silly candid photo of you before you'd scoff, playfully begging him to delete it (which he would never do—you look too cute so focused like that, he'd say). But you always saw them later when he made them the lockscreen on his phone. 

You wonder what his lockscreen is now, you think absentmindedly as you haul several books onto one shelf. It's been months since you saw him or his phone. At that thought, you glance down at your own phone tucked into your jeans pocket to see if he's sent you any kind of response to your message earlier—but your notification screen is just as empty as it was the last time you checked. 

Those seeds of worry dig themselves deeper. 

But you tell yourself again not to worry. There's no point—you and Yeonjun have been through plenty together. You know you have no idea how busy and stressful graduate school must be, but you're sure you'll hear all about it the next time you see Yeonjun. 

It's the same thing you tell yourself when you get in your car to go back to your apartment once your shift ends, checking your phone once again to see an empty screen. 

And again tomorrow morning, when your notification screen is still blank (aside from the outdated memes Soobin is spamming your work groupchat with) on your way to class. 

There's no doubt about it now. Those seeds are planted. You're worried. 

But, as it turns out, only for a few hours—because you do finally, finally receive a reply from Yeonjun halfway through your shift at the library, your heart nearly pounding out of your chest in a way it hasn't in years when you finally see his name pop up at the top of your notifications. 

> hey! 

> can you talk soon? 

You look around the library. It's a Friday night—hardly anyone on campus is studying, but Soobin has still scheduled you, Taehyun, and Kai for tonight—you're practically over-staffed, so you're sure he won't mind if you step outside for a quick moment. 

You make your way towards the chemistry section, where Soobin is currently organizing some kind of midterms display. "Hi," you say, sweetly. 

He turns his head to face you, suspicion tugging at the corners of his eyes. "Hi," he repeats, slowly. "What's up?" 

"Mind if I step outside really quick? I have to make a call." 

Soobin narrows his eyes, and you know he's onto you. But he still gestures towards the door with his head before tapping on his wristwatch. "Just make it quick, alright?"

You nod way too quickly. "You got it," you say, beaming at him before practically dashing for the doors, pulling up Yeonjun's contact information on your phone and calling him immediately. 

He picks up on the third ring. "Hey," he starts.

"Hi," you respond, trying not to sound too terribly excited to hear his voice. "How's school going?"

He hums. "It's alright, I guess. You?" God, he sounds tired—you'll have to come up with something really nice to surprise him with the next time you see him. You're not sure what his favorite restaurants are in his new city, but you can ask around with his friends—you're sure he has plenty already. He's always been that way—that charm of his had certainly worked on you too, after all.

So you make a similar hum of agreement. "It's okay so far. I really miss you, Jjun." 

There's a strange pause after those words—as if you and Yeonjun had a script for your conversations, and he had lost his. You had fully expected him to return the sentiment, just like he always had before. Instead, you hear him take a breath. "Do you have time to talk, Y/N?"

The seeds of worry are back, digging themselves deeper and insisting on growing roots within your head. "Um...sure," you manage to get out, trying to ignore the sudden panic clawing at the bottom of your stomach. 

He sighs, and there's a long space of time before he continues. "...I really wish I could see you. You deserve this in person at least, you know? But...fuck, there's no easy way to do it, I guess. I—I don't think we should do this anymore. Us, I mean—I think we need to be done." 

You aren't sure if you heard him right. There's no, no way your Yeonjun just said...that. "...What?" you say, laughing nervously. "I'm sorry—are you saying we need a break?" 

Yeonjun clears his throat. "No," he says. "Not a break. I don't think that would be fair to either of us. I think we need to be done." 

Blindsided doesn't even begin to cover how you feel. You feel like Yeonjun has just dumped a bucket of ice water over your head through the phone. "Yeonjun—you're breaking up with me?" 

He takes a moment to reply. "Yeah, Y/N. I am. And I'm so, so sorry, I—"

"Over the phone?" you sputter, indignant tears blooming at the corners of your eyes. "You're ending a four and a half year relationship...over a phone call?" 

You can't see him, but you know the wince he's making, judging by the sound of the sigh that leaves his mouth. "I told you, I would've had to fly out to come see you—and I figured you probably wouldn't have let me stay the rest of the weekend at your place afterwards," he says, laughing awkwardly. "I'm too broke as it is these days anyway." 

You just can't believe what you're hearing. This is a nightmare. It has to be. "So...what?" you choke out, brushing back tears threatening to fall from the corners of your eyes. "Did I...do something?" 

"Oh, God, no," Yeonjun says hurriedly, and the concern in his voice is genuine. You know what that sounds like, at least. "Honestly. You didn't do anything, Y/N—it's my fault. I let this relationship grow static, and I let myself fall into a routine—and I just sort of stopped feeling the way I had before. I should have done this before, but I was too much of a coward, and I'm so, so sorry—I know it's a lot to ask of you, but I hope you can forgive me. Maybe we can be friends, one day." 

A long time passes before you answer. "One day," you repeat. "But not now." 

He lets out a short laugh. "I didn't think you'd want to be friends now." 

"I...fuck, Yeonjun," you say, nervous and shocked laughter escaping your throat. "I don't want this to be over at all. There's...there's no way this just came out of nowhere." 

He hums apprehensively. "I don't know what else I can say. It's the truth—I just let myself become bored with the relationship, and that's my fault. I should have tried harder a long time ago, and for that, I...I really am sorry." 

"I—I guess I just don't see why it isn't too late to try now," you stammer. "Why?"

"...Y/N, I don't want to try now, anymore," he whispers, and it's only then that you really get what he's been trying to tell you all along. He's done with you—whatever he felt for you all those years ago when you whispered your mutual confessions in that quiet art gallery, is gone. 

Yeonjun does not love you anymore. How you feel about him doesn't matter. 

It takes several uncomfortable beats of silence before you speak again. "Okay," you say, voice shaking. "Okay. I get it. G...goodbye, Yeonjun." 

He lets out a shaky sigh of his own. "Goodbye, Y/N. I'm so—"

But you hang up before he can say anything else. You don't want to hear another word from him now. You're trembling as you end the call, sliding your phone back into your back pocket. You're going home—there's no fucking way you can make it through the rest of your shift after this. You walk back inside as calmly as you can, sliding your nametag off your collar and placing it on the desk. 

Taehyun hasn't quite turned around to see you when you do so. "Oh, Y/N, you won't believe what Kai just sent—huh?" He frowns, finally noticing your nametag on the front counter. 

"Can you, um...can you tell Soobin when he gets back that I'm going home? I'll come early on Saturday, I'll do whatever he needs me to do to make up for this time, but I really need to go home." You absolutely cannot, under any circumstance, let them see you like this—especially not Taehyun, your favorite coworker. You don't think he'd ever let you hear the end of it. 

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you say, way, way too quickly to be nothing. "I'm sick. I...I-I'll see you guys on Saturday, okay?" You turn around and walk towards the library doors as fast as you can, practically making a beeline for the doors—but you aren't fast enough to not hear the familiar sound of Taehyun unclipping his own nametag and slamming it on the desk behind you. 

"Kai, tell Soobin I'm feeling sick, too. I'll call Beomgyu to come cover for me for the rest of this shift." 

"You...what?" Kai practically splutters, leaning over the front counter to call after the both of you. "What the hell's wrong with you two?" 

You have to make it to the car. You can have the breakdown you so desperately need in there, but you are not going to sob your eyes out right outside the university library. 

Taehyun, however, apparently isn't going to let you do either. "Y/N," he says behind you once the two of you are outside, grabbing hold of your bicep. "What's going on? What's wrong? Please—just talk to me."

You shake your head. "Taehyun, please, I just need to go home. I'm going to have a fucking meltdown right on the street if you don't at least let me get to my car," you sputter, voice trembling as you try to keep the tears at bay. 

But Taehyun shakes his head too. "No. We can go in my car. You said you parked in the guest lot today because you were almost late. Remember?"

You do remember—and at this point, you don't care enough to argue with him. So you nod in agreement, following him into the lot in a walk that has to be the longest minute and a half of your life. Once you're in Taehyun's car, though, shutting the passenger door behind you, you can't fight the tears prickling at your eyes anymore. 

"Hey—hey, talk to me, Y/N. Please. What's going on?" 

You shake your head, burying your head in your hands to try to muffle your sobs. "He broke up with me, Tae," you manage to choke out, even though the verbal confirmation of what just happened just makes you cry harder. 

"He—what? The fuck? Yeonjun?" 

"Who else?" you snap back, voice shaking. "He said we've...grown apart since he moved away. That he doesn't love me anymore. But I still love him, Taehyun," you sniff, tears tracking down your face and slipping into your open mouth in what must be an absolute mess to behold. "What am I supposed to do?"

If Taehyun thinks you look a mess, though, he doesn't tell you. "Fuck...Y/N, I'm so, so sorry," he starts, gently. "I know that doesn't mean anything—but I really am."

You shake your head. "No. It does mean something." 

He gestures towards his backseat. "If you want to beat up my backseats, go for it. I've done that after a few shitty shifts before—it can be pretty cathartic." 

But you just shake your head again, sniffling. "I just want to go home, Taehyun. Please." 

He just nods, turning the keys in the ignition before reaching into the center console in his car to grab an envelope of tissues, taking several and handing them to you. "In case you need these." 

You sniff again. "Thank you," you say, even though you know you're nowhere near done crying about this. 

You don't live too far from the university, so Taehyun's pulling into the parking lot of your apartment building before you know it. Your apartment is only on the second floor, and there's a set of stairs outside, so Taehyun is able to park almost right below your apartment. He turns to face you again. "This is you, right?" 

You nod. "Yes. Thank you, Tae." 

He glances for a moment at your door before looking back at you, worry etched on his features. "You want some time to yourself? I can come back tomorrow if you want me to check on you." 

Normally, you think, you'd say yes. You'd want to go finish crying by yourself and getting it all out of your system right before you force yourself to fall asleep—but you think about your apartment. You think about the hoodies in your closet, the pictures adorning your shelves, the stuffed animals on your bed—Yeonjun is everywhere in your apartment. You can't face these remainders of him alone.

So you shake your head. "No, I...um, can you come inside, please? You don't have to stay, I just don't know if I can—"

But Taehyun doesn't let you finish, turning off the car's ignition and opening his door, immediately walking around to open yours. Normally, you'd make some quip here about chivalry not being dead, but you can't find the energy within yourself to make anything of the sort. 

You make your way up the stairs before unlocking your door and making your way to your bedroom, trying to avoid the onslaught of photos of you and Yeonjun in the living room before collapsing onto your bed, covering your face in your pillows and sobbing the way you wanted to earlier. You hardly even notice Taehyun beside you, rubbing small circles on your back while you soak the pillowcase below you, chest heaving with hiccups in between sobs. 

You don't turn around to face him until you feel like you've emptied every tear in your eyes, now red and puffy as you catch your breath. 

Taehyun frowns at the state of you, finally moving his hand away from the small of your back. "Where are your washcloths?" he asks. 

What? "Um...o-on the rack beside the shower," you say, gesturing towards the bathroom in the hallway. 

You're perplexed when he leaves, even more so when you hear the sound of the sink running, but he's back in an instant with a wet cloth, sitting back down beside you on your bed. He hesitates for an instant. "For your cheeks," he says, tapping his own. "It'll feel better." 

Oh. "Thanks," you say, somewhat lamely, before taking the washcloth from his hands. It's warm, you realize, and he's right—it does feel nice on your tear-stained cheeks, especially under your now-puffy eyes—a gentle contrast to the sobs that had racked your entire body minutes ago. 

You set the washcloth down, looking back up at Taehyun, who offers you a reassuring smile—one you've seen plenty of times at the library, when one of you has messed up on organizing a section and had to endure a lecture from Soobin. It's not a bad expression to be on the receiving end of. "Come here," he says, opening his arms, and you let him pull you into his chest without a second thought. It's the first time you've hugged Taehyun, you think absentmindedly—but you suppose that doesn't matter. You're grateful to have him here with you now—you can't imagine how much worse you'd feel alone in your room now. 

He lets you hold onto him for as long as you need, only pulling away when you do. "Did you eat before work?" he asks softly. 

You shake your head. You'd planned on making something from your pantry after your shift, but the thought of getting up and being productive right now feels like a Herculean task. 

Taehyun must be able to see the exhaustion on your face, because he just nods. "That's okay," he says. "I'll order in." 

And he does. You spend the rest of the evening eating takeout from the Thai place down the street on your bed with Taehyun, who stays beside you and makes sure you have a nearly-full glass on your nightstand at all times, to make up for how you'd practically dehydrated yourself sobbing. And you do cry again in the middle of eating dinner, but Taehyun doesn't flinch—he just nestles you in his sturdy arms again until you don't have any tears left to cry. 

He does make a comment about leaving if you'd prefer sometime past midnight, but one look from you causes the rest of the sentence to die on his tongue, and he doesn't say another word about it. 

You wake up in the morning just before noon, and you feel only a single instant pang of panic before you see Taehyun's outstretched limbs on the couch in the living room, chest rising and falling evenly in sleep. You aren't sure when he got up to let you sleep on your own—you hardly even remember falling asleep, but the sight of him causes your heartbeat to even back out for a moment. 

That doesn't last long, though—it's only an instant before your barely-awake mind remembers what had caused him to spend the night in the first place, and you immediately feel that now-familiar twinge of sorrow in your chest. 

And it doesn't go away—no, that feeling hangs heavy in your chest. You know, then and there, that it's going to be a weight you'll carry around for a long time. 

III. WINTER.

You're right on all accounts. 

You never flat out tell the rest of your coworkers what happened between you and Yeonjun, but they must be able to read between the lines—all of them tiptoe around you for weeks. Even Soobin never teases you at work anymore, which you almost miss. You aren't a piece of glass, after all—but with the way that everyone treats you at work, you'd think you were. 

But maybe there's some truth to their treatment. Not a day goes by that you don't think about Yeonjun's words—that he'd basically just gotten bored with you. You know he'd said you hadn't done anything, but you had to have done something for that to occur, right? It didn't make any sense otherwise. 

You are proud of yourself when your track record for "crying over Yeonjun" goes from every day to once a week, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't still hurt. Just like the love you'd known from him had been something beautiful like you'd never experienced, you've never known anything as painful as this.

So much of your identity before had been being Yeonjun's partner. For Christ's sake, he was the whole reason you'd been able to get this job at the library in the first place—and now you have to distance yourself from that. You have to. You don't have another choice.

At one point, Beomgyu does suggest going out for drinks after work with Soobin. "Everyone's going," he adds gently, as if that will somehow be the thing to convince you to pull yourself out of your mental wallowing. "Won't be as fun without you, though." 

You force a smile across your lips. You do still remember how to do that, right? Smile? "I, um...I'll have to catch you guys next time. I'm busy that night." 

Beomgyu's eyes narrow. "I haven't told you what day we're going out yet, Y/N." 

You wince. "Beomgyu, I—I'm sorry. I really appreciate you trying, but I just don't think I'm there yet. I'm sorry."

He rolls his eyes a little at that. "I think this is exactly what you need right now, personally. We'll make sure you have fun, I promise. So much fun that you won't even think about old what's-his-name the entire night." 

You know good and well that Beomgyu remembers Yeonjun's name, and that he's practically putting on a show to convince you to go get drunk with him and Soobin and God knows who else—but you can't. Not yet. So you turn him down again, and this time he finally relents, taking the hint and leaving to sort through the returned books bin. Going out and getting drunk enough to forget Yeonjun probably is what you need right now—but you know you aren't there yet (Even admitting the 'yet'—the knowledge that you eventually will be at that point, whether you like it or not—is painful). Wanting to forget Yeonjun is accepting that what the two of you had is over, and truth be told, you aren't ready to do that. You're fully in denial—and you know it. 

But that doesn't mean you're in the right state of mind to do anything about it. For God's sake, you haven't even been able to go through the photo album of you and Yeonjun on your phone yet and delete a single photo. The scraps of sanity that still call out to you occasionally within your mind tell you that you need to delete those photos of the two of you, that seeing them later will just make you feel worse—but you can't. Any act of cementing the end of the relationship is still just nothing short of unthinkable to you. 

You're very much a prisoner of your own mind for the rest of the semester, whether or not you're willing to admit it, as you continue replaying Yeonjun's last words to you in your head, over and over. And over. And over. And over again. It's unhealthy—you know that. But you don't stop. You can't stop thinking about what you should have done differently to prevent this. Sure, he'd said you hadn't done anything, but that must have been a polite lie. Something must have happened. Had you been overbearing? Annoying? Had you changed, somehow? Had he? 

Your friends and coworkers all tread lightly around you for the first month or so after the breakup, checking on you occasionally and reminding you that everything will be alright eventually (a lie, you know). Beomgyu gives you the notes from your morning class whenever you skip. Kai covers for you when you call out of work. Soobin looks the other way when you take fifteen minute bathroom breaks (which usually end up with you crying in the stall) and doesn't say a word when you come back, eyes puffier than before. 

But that's exhausting to keep up with—you know that. Everyone becomes less forgiving around the middle of the semester—you still haven't gotten over that guy? What's wrong with you? You're still missing class and falling behind on assignments? Why can't you get a grip? No one says this out loud to you, of course, but you can pick up on the subtext—the implications between a shared glance between Beomgyu and Kai at work when you're almost late, between your friends when you tell them you have to finish an essay that was due yesterday—looks that pierce like a dagger to your stomach. Everyone is sick and tired of you.

Well—almost everyone. Kang Taehyun is a different story altogether. 

You fully expected him to behave like everyone else—why wouldn't he? The two of you were friends, and good friends, at that, before your life as you'd known it had imploded in on itself, but you wouldn't have considered him to be a best friend by any means. Maybe you had missed some kind of memo, though—because if the way he's treated you since Yeonjun broke up with you is any indicator, his feelings towards your friendship are not at all what you'd thought they were. 

Not a day goes by that you don't eat at least two meals a day, and that's because Taehyun is checking on you daily to make sure you've eaten. More than once, he's driven over to your house with food from his pantry to ensure there is something in your apartment to eat. He helps you stay on top of your schoolwork, too—hell, the only reason you even remember to do that essay at all is because Taehyun reminds you. And yet, these reminders never feel like a scolding, or like he's judging or chastising you—rather, it just feels like he's looking out for you. He's the only person looking out for you, you think—maybe even more so than yourself. 

Which is why it surprises you, one cold, melancholy November evening as the two of you walk home from class, when Taehyun suggests talking to Yeonjun again. 

Your eyes widen. "What?" 

Taehyun nods, shifting his shoulders as he adjusts his backpack. "Sure. I...I think it would be good for you to get more closure from the whole thing. That's what's keeping you so upset, isn't it? That you don't really get why he did it?" 

You suppose there's an element of truth to that. You certainly don't understand Yeonjun's actions—but the truth of the matter is that you aren't ready to let him go. You weren't three months ago when he called you, and you still aren't now. The ache in your chest that you've felt for so long hasn't subsided in the least—like a knife that only digs deeper every time you remember it's there. 

But you nod anyway. "Yeah, I...I guess that's part of it. But—I can't just text him, Taehyun. What the hell am I supposed to say? 'Hi Yeonjun! Miss you, hope you haven't been feeling the same soul-crushing loneliness that I have for the past three months?'"

Taehyun winces at that before turning to face forward again, gazing at the sidewalk ahead of you with a sigh. "Maybe not quite like that. But...I don't know. He said he wanted to be friends, right? I don't see why you couldn't at least try."

But you don't want to be friends with Yeonjun—that's been the problem. Not just friends. You want to let yourself love him again, to feel that kind of tenderness and contentment and perfect warmth like you've never felt from another person before. 

But that clearly is no longer an option on the table for you. What Taehyun is suggesting, however, might be. Maybe he's right. Something would be better than nothing with Yeonjun. Wouldn't it? 

This conversation is how you find yourself later that night with your phone on your bed in front of you, fingers shaking slightly over the keypad from the nervous weight you feel at the bottom of your stomach. You've already typed out the entire message. You should just send it. 

< hey, did you mean what you said about being friends? 

God, why are you so nervous? It's not like you don't know the man—for Christ's sake, you spent over four years of your life convinced that you knew just about everything there was to know about Yeonjun. You knew about his favorite flowers, the piercings he wanted to get, how comically tremendous his appetite could sometimes be and how he'd always compliment your cooking, regardless of how you felt about it—but maybe none of that had mattered. You hadn't known that he'd felt bored with the relationship. You'd let that knowledge slip past you, somehow. 

You press send on the message before you can talk yourself out of it, turning your phone over and stepping into the bathroom to take a shower, hoping you can think about something, anything else to hide the bubbles of anxiety floating upwards into your chest at the thought that Yeonjun may have responded already. 

You practically leap out of the shower when you're finished, hair still dripping beads of water down your back as you wrap a towel around yourself, making your way back into your bedroom and grabbing for your phone. 

Your eyes widen. 

> yeah, i did. 

> would you be okay with that? 

The anxiety within your chest dissipates like hot water under the sun, if only for a moment. Your Yeonjun, and the effect he still has on you. 

< yeah, i would. 

His reply comes only a few minutes later. 

> okay. cool :) 

> i actually thought about sending this to you the other day. reminded me of you

[link]

Attached is a link to a YouTube video—a piano rendition of a song you'd listened to all the time (and probably forced Yeonjun to listen to in the process) when you'd first begun dating. It sounds beautiful on piano, the melody a bright cascade of hopeful and energetic sounding chords, and you feel your chest tighten with warmth as the video keeps playing. 

It had made him think of you. 

The warmth you'd felt in your chest before suddenly shifts to a suffocating cold. This is probably a bad idea. Yeonjun saying he wants to be friends probably means just that—that he wants to be friends. Nothing else. You, of course, don't feel that way at all, if the way your heart had soared when you saw his message is any indicator. You're just going to get attached again to someone you know doesn't feel the same way about you. You're only setting yourself up for more heartbreak—part of you knows that. 

But you don't stop yourself from playing the video again, butterflies rushing through your stomach. 

~~~

The weeks leading up to winter break are infinitely better than the beginning of the semester. You're comfortably caught up and staying on top of all your assignments. When Soobin assigns you more hours at the library, you don't utter a word of protest. One of your professors even comments on how much better you've done on this last essay than your first of the semester. 

Taehyun seems pleased to see you in better spirits too. He still checks on you just about every day, but there seems to be less urgency in his messages. He's not as concerned as he was a few weeks ago, and you almost feel a twinge of...something at that thought, not quite regret but not quite disappointment, either—but you brush it away just as quickly. 

Thoughts like those are easy to push away now that you're speaking to Yeonjun again. 

If it was one of your other friends in your situation, you think, you'd probably be concerned with how fast they turned around on their ex-boyfriend, going from being completely, utterly heartbroken to gushing over a cute TikTok he'd sent—but you ignore those thoughts when they come, too. Maybe you are making a bad decision by trying to be friends with Yeonjun, but you can't find it in yourself to care enough to stop. This momentary happiness is worlds away from the unbearable heartbreak you'd felt before, even if it is likely temporary. Besides, there haven't been any repercussions of this choice yet, anyway. 

Yet being the key word. 

A few days before fall break, Soobin approaches you, Taehyun, and Kai in the middle of your shared shift, the three of you definitely doing the work he'd assigned to you and definitely not talking behind the counter about a movie you're making plans to go see after your shifts end. 

Soobin clears his throat, and the three of you jump, turning to face him. He lets out a sigh. "Are all three of you going home for break?" 

You all shake your heads no. 

He perks up a bit at that. "Oh. Okay. Good! The library isn't going to be open all week, but we're still doing limited hours. Would any of you be open to working over the break? It'll be time-and-a-half pay."

Kai suddenly grabs for his phone in his back pocket, even though you don't think you heard it buzz. "Huh—look at that. My mom just texted and said she actually does want me to come home for the break now. Sorry!" 

Soobin makes an exasperated frown, but he doesn't say anything else to Kai, turning to you instead. "Y/N?"

You shrug. "Sure, I can work. I'll be here anyway." 

Taehyun suddenly shifts, standing up a little taller beside you. "Me too. I don't mind." 

Soobin nods. "Okay, great. Thanks, you guys. I'll be here the first day, but the other four days it'll be just you two here. So..." he takes in a slow breath. "Don't do anything stupid. Okay?" 

You can practically feel Taehyun fighting back a grin beside you out of the corner of your eye, and you have to bite your tongue to keep a laugh of your own from escaping you at Soobin's remark. "Okay, boss," you say, bringing a hand to your forehead in an overly enthusiastic salute. "We won't." 

Taehyun and Kai both snort at your words, but Soobin just crosses his arms. "I mean it. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, okay? Or...anything I wouldn't let either of you do. You know what I mean." He narrows his eyes. 

But you just laugh. "I promise, Soobin. We'll be fine. It's just limited hours, like you said, right? And it'll be over the break. We'll probably be the only ones in the library the whole week. What could go wrong?" 

His frown only deepens at that. "...I don't even think I want to imagine that," he says before walking away, and the three of you only let out giggles once he's out of earshot. Truthfully, as much as you enjoy teasing Soobin with your other coworkers, you really don't think working over the break will be bad at all. 

And in truth, it isn't the working part that ends up being the problem. It's what happens when you're at work. 

To absolutely no one's surprise, the library is completely, utterly dead over the break. You can count on both hands the number of people that walk in for the first three days as you and Taehyun stand behind the counter, chatting quietly until you run out of things to talk about. By noon on Thursday, the two of you are the only people in the library, scrolling on your phones aimlessly with your shoes propped up against the help desk as the soft scratch of classical music plays over the speakers above you. 

You smile when you see you've gotten a message from Yeonjun, opening your messages to see what he's sent now. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Taehyun giving you a knowing smirk in response to the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth—but you can't hide it. You wouldn't dare, you think. 

It's a video of Yeonjun talking, telling you about a baby that kept waving to him on the plane back from his university. His fall break is the same week as yours, so he's going home today to spend the rest of the weekend with his family. 

You take a quick response video, teasing him about his and the baby's apparent shared brain cells before going back to your mindless scrolling. 

Or—you try to, at least. The moment your Instagram feed refreshes, you find yourself staring, unblinking at the first post on your page. 

It's from Yeonjun's account. It's a picture of him at the airport. And he isn't alone. Standing beside him, arms wrapped around his middle with his around their neck, eyes closed and lips turned upward in a practically radiant smile, is a girl. She looks like she's been caught off guard by Yeonjun, but she's not disappointed about it by any means, if the candid joy radiating from her expression is anything to go by. You glance down at his caption. 

thankful for you. 

There's only one comment so far, which you're assuming is from her. 

SO happy to spend this week with u <3

He might as well have put up a neon sign, you think. You know you can't know for sure, but you almost feel like this was directed at you—the caption, at the very least. Yeonjun has a girlfriend. He's moved on from you, in every sense of the phrase. 

Taehyun must have noticed your suddenly expressionless face, because you see him frown across from you out of the corner of your eye. "Everything alright over there?" 

You extend your arm towards him, showing him your phone screen wordlessly. His eyes widen. "Is that...no fucking way. He has a girlfriend?" 

You nod, that all-too-familiar lump in your throat making its presence known once again. "Yeah," you reply, avoiding his stunned gaze. "I guess so." 

Taehyun doesn't look away from you, even after you draw your arm back into your lap. "Y/N," he starts, quietly. Speaking to you the way you'd speak to a wounded animal—gently, but as if you could practically explode at any moment. It almost makes you feel worse. "Are you..." he stops, trailing off before he can even finish the thought before shaking his head. "Do you want to take a break for a minute?" He gestures with his head towards the punch clock on the wall behind the two of you. 

But you shake your head. "No, I...I don't think so," you say. As strange as it seems, you don't feel nearly as upset as you did when Yeonjun had called to break up with you. Seeing that he's already moved on feels like ripping a metaphorical band-aid off. In a way, you sort of needed to see that he's moved on—that your hopes that the two of you could get back together, somehow, were foolish. Maybe this neon sign of an Instagram post is exactly what you needed. 

Taehyun, however, doesn't seem entirely convinced, frown only deepening at your words. "Are you sure? We can get out of here, you know. It's just us in here right now." 

You shake your head again. "No. We've still got nearly another hour—I don't think Soobin would be very happy if he found out we closed the library early just because I flipped out over Yeonjun again," you say, laughing weakly. 

He snaps his fingers at you. "So you admit it! You are flipping out!" 

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms across your chest. "That is not what I—"

But Taehyun is already taking off his nametag, placing it under the counter and grabbing the keys for the front door. He turns around once he's within a few feet of the front door, gazing at you expectantly. "Well? Come on." 

You gesture with your arm at the library before you. "Taehyun, you've got to be joking. We cannot just get up and leave. What if someone needs to come study?" 

He raises an eyebrow at you. "You think someone's going to need to come study? Over fall break? The day of the holiday? Not a chance."

"How are we going to punch out then, smart guy?" you ask indignantly. 

But Taehyun just shrugs. "I'll just tell Soobin tomorrow that we both forgot, and he'll have to enter our punch-out times manually. Shouldn't be a big deal." 

But you narrow your eyes at him. "'Shouldn't be a big deal?' You seriously think Soobin won't find it a bit suspicious that we both just happened to forget to punch out as we were leaving?" 

"Not really. Look..." he says, starting softer this time. "If something happens, I'll take the fall for it. Alright? You need to get out of here." 

You take another glance at the empty, quiet library. It's only an hour early. Maybe Soobin won't find out, somehow, by some miraculous stroke of luck that you know you don't exactly tend to have—but that lump in your throat hasn't gone away since you saw the picture of Yeonjun. So you nod. "Okay," you say, pulling your nametag off and sliding it under the desk beside Taehyun's, an action that wins you a growing smile on the man's face. "Let's get out of here, then." 

You follow him out of the library, watching him lock the door and swallowing the momentary twinge of guilt at his actions. 

Taehyun seems to read your mind, though. He looks up at you once the doors are locked. "Don't chicken out on me now. Okay? I promise. We'll be okay." 

You nod wordlessly. "Let's just get out of here, then." 

He smiles at you—that big ear-to-ear grin that causes nearly all of your worries to dissipate at just the sight. "That's the spirit. Come on. Are you up for going for a drive?" 

"Sure," you say, nodding. Anywhere is better than being here, slowly falling into the trap of your own thoughts that you thought you'd narrowly escaped a month ago. 

So you get in Taehyun's car once again, gazing out the window at the sun slowly lowering against the horizon, oranges and pinks spreading across the sky as if they were deliberate brush strokes from some invisible hands—just as beautiful as those paintings you and Yeonjun had gazed at that day you both whispered your mutual confessions to each other. 

You shove that thought away just as Taehyun parks the car, and you look out the windshield to see where you are. You're at the top of a tall hill, trees around you on all sides as you gaze down at the college town before you. It looks so small from this distance, you think. 

"I've never been here before," you say, turning to look at Taehyun. "I didn't even know this place existed." 

He nods, still looking at the city below the two of you. "Beomgyu took me here once after a really bad shift. Got yelled at by some grad student for not having an extra copy of a textbook for them to loan when they had an exam tomorrow—you know the drill. It's a good spot to clear your head, I think."

You find that you'd have to agree the longer you stare down at the city, thinking about the perspective it affords you. 

"We don't live in a huge college town, compared to some others, but there's still so, so many people down there. You know?" Taehyun says, as if he's reading your thoughts. Again. How is he so good at that? "I don't want you to ever think one person is the only person you could ever be with. That he's the only chance you'll ever get at love—that just can't be possible." 

You know what he means. You even think it's true—you know it is, logically. But that doesn't mean this lingering heartbreak aching in your chest, in your lungs, in your veins, hurts any less. "Damn you, Kang Taehyun," you say quietly. "You make too much sense." 

He laughs at that, finally tearing his gaze away from the city before him and turning to face you. 

But you aren't finished, taking a deep breath before you continue. "I should've never let myself care about someone this much. This—this whole thing," you say, waving your arm in front of you in a vague gesture, "is just so stupid."

He frowns at that. "No," Taehyun says, shaking his head. "This isn't stupid. You're not stupid." 

You shake your head right back. "I let being Yeonjun's partner be my most important trait. It was all I cared about—he was all I cared about. I shouldn't have done that, shouldn't have put him on such a pedestal like that." 

Taehyun mulls your words over for a moment. "Maybe," he says. "But I don't think you should be mad at yourself for loving him. There's nothing wrong with that. And I think you've learned and grown through the relationship—you'll probably be a better partner in the next one you're in, too." 

That thought still stings—of another relationship, of giving up completely on Yeonjun. Even though he's obviously given up on you. "I just don't know what I did wrong. I have to have done something—a relationship doesn't just end like that. Does it?" Yeonjun had been so many of your firsts—and now, he was the first person to ever break up with you. You'd always been the one in charge of that in the brief relationships you'd had before him, the ones that hadn't left nearly the kind of impact Yeonjun had had on you. 

Taehyun shrugs lightly. "I don't have that much experience, but I can tell you that sometimes that is exactly what happens. People really can fall out of love—of course, that's because of their own feelings. Not usually anything to do with the other person," he adds quickly. "If anything, it says how much more equipped you are to handle a long-term, long-distance relationship than he is. You're the mature one. He's not." 

"Clearly not," you scoff. "I'm still the one crying over him, and he's already moved on. Sounds like he's more mature than I am." 

"That I disagree with," Taehyun counters immediately. "The fact that it's still upsetting you means that the relationship meant something different to you than it did to him—he must not have taken it as seriously as you. And that's his fault." 

You're quiet for a moment after that. The sun has almost completely set now, dusk enveloping the college town before you as the city lights begin to twinkle in the dark. But you still find yourself ruminating. The hollowness you feel now is almost scarier than the heartbreak—you aren't even that sad anymore. Just empty. And you tell Taehyun this. "It still scares me—feeling like I don't know who I am now. I feel like I built up an entire imaginary future with him—and now I don't know what to expect of anything anymore." 

Taehyun takes a breath as he nods. "I know," he says gently. "But the future is always like that. You know? Nothing's ever guaranteed, no matter how much we cling to the things we care about. Still—I want you to know that you're so, so much more than being someone's partner. I think you're incredibly clever, and funny, and smart, and beautiful—don't you dare look at me like that, Y/N," he says, only somewhat teasingly as you raise your eyebrows at that last addition. "I'm serious. It's okay to care about someone, but I want you to know that you are still worth so, so much as your own person. Regardless of whether you're with someone or not."

You wish you had better words to say to Taehyun—poetic, soft words to thank him in the same way that he's comforting you. Instead, you let the silence speak for you, losing yourself to the soft hum of Taehyun's radio and the glittering stars that have finally come out in the sky. It's a comfortable silence, though—and you feel those knots of worry and heartbreak at the pit of your stomach slowly start to untangle themselves. Just a little—but they do nonetheless. 

It's long past nightfall when Taehyun finally drives you home, telling you goodnight and looking like there's more that he wants to say, even as he drives away—but you find yourself content in the moment anyway, even when you get ready for bed and slip under your covers.

But that doesn't mean the pain has gone away entirely. 

Taehyun had told you to call him if you started feeling down about the whole situation, but when you wake up in the morning and feel that familiar heavy sorrow in your chest, you don't tell Taehyun a thing. Instead, you let yourself lie on your side and bring your knees up to your chest and weep, burying your face in the pillowcase until it's practically soaked through from your tears. You let yourself cry for yourself—for the version of you who has died, for the Yeonjun you had loved for so long and with such intensity, and for you now who will never again be the person you were before. 

It would be different if the two of you had ended things dramatically, you think—if Yeonjun had cheated on you, or if you had been an unsupportive partner—but none of those things happened. It just ended. And he has already moved on, the way you imagine a normal person does. 

Somehow, you think, that still makes it worse. 

But you think back on what Taehyun had said to you last night, even as you brush away the tears staining your cheeks. Choi Yeonjun is not the only person in the world—it doesn't make sense to think of him as the only person who could ever love you. Yes, your relationship coming to an end still hurts like nothing you've ever experienced before—but already you can feel that ache subsiding, even if those moments are few and far between. Yeonjun had fully severed what was left of the two of you, but it now feels to you like it was necessary. Like it was something you needed—the beginning of a new path for you. 

~~~

The rest of the semester goes by in a blur after fall break. You're so caught up in the mess of finals and work that you barely have time to think about anything else, let alone what's left of your feelings towards Yeonjun. 

If Soobin knows about you and Taehyun closing early and conveniently forgetting to punch out, he never says a word—but you do work considerably more hours than usual in the weeks leading up to your final exams. Soobin says it's the busiest time of the year for the library, so he needs all hands on deck to help all the students coming in and out. Which you do believe—but you still have a sneaky feeling that you and Taehyun are working more than Beomgyu and Kai. 

You wonder if your professors are all in some kind of secret conspiracy to make their students suffer as much as possible, since all five of your exams are stacked over the course of three days. You survive, even after pulling an all-nighter to prepare, which does mean that you should be able to relax at the end of the week while your other coworkers are still cramming. On Friday, though Beomgyu and Kai still have one last final, which is why you and Taehyun both find yourselves working a double to cover for them while they take their exams. It's a long shift, full of snappy students and an exhausted Soobin—by the time 10 p.m. finally rolls around, you feel yourself on the verge of collapsing as you clock out with Taehyun. 

Your favorite coworker raises an eyebrow at your exhausted state. "You alright?" he asks, tapping at his shirt collar before extending a hand to you. 

Your nametag. Christ, you'd almost forgotten. You sigh, nodding as you slip your nametag off of your shirt before placing it in Taehyun's waiting palm, who then moves to slide it under the front counter with his and your other coworkers' tags. "You mean you don't feel like you're about to pass out after that? I thought today would never end."

He laughs a little as the two of you walk towards the front door. "Sure I do. But you saw what Kai sent in the work chat, right? He and Beomgyu are going out later tonight now that they're done with finals. Of course, I'm not sure if that means they feel like they did good or bad, to be honest—but I guess we'll know when we get there. I told them I'd meet them once we were done with work."

You laugh too, pulling your car keys out of your pocket now that you're only a few feet from your respective vehicles. "Yeah, I saw it. But you guys can go ahead—I think I need to turn in early tonight. I'll see you all after the break, okay?" 

The look on Taehyun's face fades a little, and he stops walking right in front of your cars. "Are you sure? It might be fun—you know how funny Beomgyu gets." 

You stop walking too, standing beside him. The thought of tipsy Beomgyu does bring back fond memories of work parties past—the occasion where he tried to convince everyone to jump into a pool, fully clothed, at the house party where you all barely knew the owner was a particularly fun one—but you don't feel up for it tonight. So you shake your head. "No—I'm too tired, Taehyun. But you all have fun, seriously. Just be safe, alright?" You wink at him teasingly. 

But he doesn't return the gesture. Rather, an unusual look washes over his face—an expression of determination that you aren't sure you've ever seen from him before. "You're going home tomorrow, right?" he asks suddenly. 

You nod. "Yeah, I'm spending the break with my parents. Why?" 

Taehyun visibly swallows before he opens his mouth again to speak. You feel a sudden uneasiness develop in the pit of your stomach just before you hear him say "I'm telling you now, then. I like you, Y/N." Suddenly. Just the way Yeonjun had in that art museum all those years ago. 

The two of you are outside, but you suddenly feel like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the parking lot you're standing in. You blink. "What?" 

He nods, gaze unwavering from yours. "I like you." 

He's joking. He has to be. Either that, or you really did pass out in the library earlier, and this is all some kind of dream. "...You like me," you repeat, slowly. A short laugh escapes you before you can stop yourself. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said," he says. "I know this is a pretty terrible time to tell you this, but—"

"Yes," you say, practically unable to believe what you're hearing. "Yes, Taehyun, this is a terrible time to tell me—God, why would you tell me this?" 

"Because it's true," he replies almost instantly. "And I'm not telling you because I want you to say the same thing. You don't have to say anything, actually, I...I just wanted you to know." 

Your heart sinks to your chest at that. "So, you...you'd confess to someone who you know won't reciprocate? Why?" 

Taehyun shakes his head. "I'm not telling you because I want anything to happen. Not right now, anyway—I'm not that stupid. I think." He tries to laugh, but the sound doesn't quite come out right. "I just want you to know, in case you ever feel the same way." 

In case you ever feel the same way. He doesn't think you like him back. Hell—do you? The thought of romance has been so banned from your mind for the last several months that you haven't even entertained the notion, whether it was Taehyun or anyone else in the world—but you think about that. You think about the way those feelings of tight anxiety in your chest loosen when you see that you're scheduled to work with him, how your heart beats faster when you get a notification on your phone from him—not to mention that evening you'd spent in his car on the hilltop overlooking the city. Those feelings of warmth that ignite within you every time you'd looked over at him that night probably were feelings of attraction. You just haven't been able to even entertain this thought, of liking someone else, in ages. You almost can't ever remember when—and that frightens you. "I...I think I do feel that way, though," you say. "I care about you, Taehyun. So, so much. You've been the only person I could depend on for the last three months, but...but I think you deserve better than this. God, you should know better than anyone that I'm nowhere near being over Yeonjun. That I'm in no state to even think about dating someone right now." You laugh, tone dripping with self-deprecation. "I'm a mess. I barely even remember what those feelings are even like. You have to know that anything I do in this mental state now would just be a rebound, even if I didn't want it to be, and I...I don't want to do that to you." 

Taehyun nods quickly, taking a step closer. "You're not a mess. But I do know how you feel—which is why I wanted to tell you. You don't have to do anything about it now if you don't want to," he says again. "I just wanted you to know." 

You shake your head, surprised to feel sudden tears of frustration brimming at the corners of your eyes. "God...Taehyun, please don't do this to me," you whisper, holding back a sniff. He's close enough to you that he can hear, even at this volume. "I don't want to lose you too." Things will never be the same between the two of you—you know this as well as you know your own name. No matter how much the two of you try to awkwardly dance around each other from now on, you'll never forget that you had this conversation. You can never go back to just being friends. 

But Taehyun shakes his head fervently. "You won't lose me," he says, voice unwavering before he makes a slight move to reach for your hand out of instinct before stopping himself. "Not if you don't want to. I'll stick around for as long as you want me to." 

You grab his hand anyway, even as he looks up at you in shock. "So...what? You'd wait for me?" you say, laughing quietly. "I can't ask that of you. That isn't fair to you." 

He just shakes his head again. "If you want me to, I will. I'll wait as long as you need me to—I'm telling you, I don't mind."

You scoff a little at that before you can stop yourself. "You say that now, but I...I have no idea when I'll feel ready to think about being with anyone again. I'm sorry, Taehyun—but I don't know how long this could take. You know? I mean, I'd hope it wouldn't be years," you say, laughing hollowly, "but I just have no idea. And I just don't understand why you would do this—wait for me. I mean...look at you," you say, laughing nervously as you gesture vaguely towards his figure. You haven't thought about him in that way before—or maybe you haven't let yourself think of him in that way, you realize now—but you can't ignore the sharp lines of his jaw, the clearly defined strength beneath his sweater—Taehyun is beautiful. There could never be any denying it. "You're perfect, Taehyun. You could have anyone you wanted—certainly someone less fucked up than me. Someone you wouldn't have to wait to be with, I—"

But he just shakes his head. "I most certainly am not perfect—but I just want to see you happy," he replies, voice as calm and steady as ever. You wonder if this is how he imagined this conversation going. "Whether that's with me, or someone else, or on your own—that's okay. And I...you know now. I'd like for it to be with me, if that's possible," he adds, laughing a little, "but if it's not, that's okay too. You just deserve to be happy, and I want to see that happen for you." 

You let his words hang in the air between the two of you for a long, long time. The only sound in the entire parking lot is the occasional soft jangling of your keys when a gust of wind passes by. 

He'd wait for you. 

"...I really don't know how long it will be until I can think about this," you say again, breaking the momentary silence. 

But Taehyun just nods, gently squeezing your hand. You'd almost forgotten your fingers were still interlaced with his. "I'm telling you, that's okay. I'll wait as long as you want until you want to talk about this again—and if you don't want it to go any further, it doesn't have to. I just...just wanted you to know how I felt, regardless." 

You nod. Before you can say anything else, though, Taehyun's phone rings from his back pocket, loudly interrupting the two of you in the otherwise empty parking lot. 

He turns slightly to glance down at it, and makes a face when he sees who it's from. "It’s Kai," he says softly. "They must be wondering where I am."

"Go ahead," you say just as quietly, gesturing with your free hand towards his car. "It's okay. I...I need to think, anyway." 

Taehyun keeps his gaze on you for a moment, mind clearly racing through a thousand different responses as he sets his mouth in a worried line—but eventually he nods. "Okay," he says, finally letting go of your hand. "I...I'll see you after break, then."

You nod wordlessly. 

His words still echo in your mind, even as he gets in his car and offers a small wave your way. 

He'd wait for you. It's more than you could ever ask for. At the same time, however, you realize that it's an admission to yourself—admitting that getting over Yeonjun is still going to be a long, difficult path to walk. 

And when you're finally left in the parking lot by yourself, you find that you feel more alone than you have in a long, long time. 

~~~

The winter holidays go by at a snail's pace. All you want to do is sleep off the fresh heartache your conversation with Taehyun has caused and do practically nothing all break—but you find yourself hilariously bored on your fourth day of doing "nothing." 

Your parents are uncharacteristically lenient of your behavior—they used to never let you sleep in this late, especially if you were home from school after not seeing you for so long—but you know they know about you and Yeonjun breaking up. Your mother had been particularly fond of him, too. Maybe that's why she doesn't say a word when you go to bed early every night. 

It's ridiculously hard to keep your mind off of Yeonjun over the holidays—couples are everywhere. Nearly every holiday movie seems to revolve around a romance, not to mention all the ones in real life that you can't stop seeing. Your friends post about spending the week with their partner's families, about seeing the other's hometown for the first time, of a surprise and sudden engagement from one of your cousins and their long-time girlfriend—it's enough to make you sick. You know that's a horrible thing to think at such happy occasions for the people you know, but the thought forms itself anyway. 

Every time you feel like you've taken a step forward towards healing, towards finally, finally getting over him—you see something that sends you reeling back into that heartache and sorrow, sending you ten steps back from where you'd been. It's a vicious cycle, and as much as you beg for it to end—it doesn't. Not yet. 

Because Yeonjun haunts you in your home, too. It's hard to set up decorations with your parents without thinking about how you did this last year with him—how he had held onto your waist as he reached around you into the box of tinsel, how your mother had beamed at him as he'd helped her cook, how angelic he had looked as the two of you walked around your neighborhood looking at the different lights each house had set up. They were such beautiful memories, at the time—had only made you feel more confident and cemented in your relationship with Yeonjun as each one passed. You'd hadn't ever imagined a future without him. And now you can't help but wonder if he had already felt dissatisfied with you in each of those moments. 

But as unrelenting as those memories are, so is the passing of time—because you survive the winter holiday season, somehow, even with your shattered heart. Your plan is to move back into school right after the new year, which is how you end up at home on New Year's Eve. Your parents have already gone to their rooms to sleep by the time eleven o'clock strikes on the clock, and as hard as you try, you can't help but think about the fact that this is your first New Year's Eve in years that you'll be alone for. 

Or so you think, anyway. The instant you see your phone screen display 12:01 A.M., it buzzes. It's a message from Taehyun. 

> happy new year, y/n

The new year. 

Everything has hurt so badly for months—like a wound that refuses to form a scab, because you won't let it. You're the one who won't put the bandage over the cut, who keeps digging the blade into the metaphorical wound that was you and Yeonjun every time you think about him. 

But what's the alternative? Moving on? Accepting that your relationship with Yeonjun is over? That what had been the happiest years of your life up until now are through? It's unthinkable. It's unfair to that version of you who had loved him with all of your heart to just throw them away—to just lock the door and never look back. 

But it's what you have to do, you realize. You won't ever feel any better until you can accept that you and Yeonjun are done, for good—and Taehyun is offering you a way out. This is the ending of what you've known up until now—but a chance to finally, finally start anew. To put the past behind you and try again. 

< happy new year, taehyun.

IV. SPRING.

The spring semester hardly gives you a moment to breathe. 

You vaguely remember signing up for classes right before fall break—but those weeks were such a blur that you neglected to realize this spring would be your first semester in upper division courses. In other words—you're drowning in schoolwork with scarcely an instant to yourself, let alone to sort out your lingering feelings. 

And in the moments that you do have time to breathe, Yeonjun always seems to find a way to sneak to the forefront of your mind. But these recollections aren't always as painful as they were before. In one instance, you feel a wave of relief wash over you—but only for the single instant that it provides you comfort—when you remember turning down Yeonjun's offer to buy each other promise rings before he'd first left for college. 

He'd pointed at them in a jewelry store the two of you had wandered into while walking downtown together. "What do you think?" he'd asked, winking. 

You'd laughed. "Yeah, right. I hear getting engaged right after high school never ends up going badly for anyone." 

But he'd shaken his head immediately. "Not engaged," he'd corrected gently. "They're promise rings. It's a promise to you, from me. And from you to me—that we'll wait for each other, and only each other, until we're both ready. No matter what happens." 

Your heart had fluttered at the sudden declaration, cheeks flushing pink before you could stop them—but you had thought even then that it seemed like an awfully rash thing to commit to for a relationship of barely over a year. "That's...unbelievably romantic, Jjun," you'd admitted. "Even for you. Have you done something?" you'd teased, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He'd gasped, putting his hands above his head in mock surrender. "I most certainly have not. Can't I just be a hopeless romantic every once in a while?" 

You'd pretended to mull it over. "Hmm. Maybe on special occasions. We'll have to see if we can work out a schedule for your hopeless romantic tendencies in the future." 

Yeonjun had then made a show of wiping pretend sweat from his brow. "Thank goodness." 

You'd giggled, despite yourself. "I'm serious, though. It's a beautiful thought, but...do you think it's something we could come back to? At a later time?" 

Ever the gentleman, your Yeonjun had nodded sweetly at you. "Of course," he'd said, taking your hand in his before leading the two of you back out of the store. "We can talk about the future whenever you're ready. I'm just as happy in our present right now, anyway." 

That had certainly changed somewhere along the way, you think bitterly to yourself. But pushing past this memory still feels like a small victory, in a way. You hadn't wasted money on committing to a promise that Yeonjun had broken.

There are countless more memories that resurface in this way—but by the time they pass, you no longer taste that metaphorical blood in your mouth anymore at their recollection, no longer feel your heart yearning for them to stay the way you would have a few months ago. They just pass, and you don't think about them again after they go.

Yeonjun only texts you once. You haven't sent him a single message since his Instagram post before fall break—and of course, you imagine he knows why. You may not have expected him to break up with you when he did, but you did know him ridiculously well at one point, seemingly both inside and out—you know that he knows you well enough, too, to understand why you've suddenly gone radio silent. But he does text you once, right as the first week of your semester finishes.

> hey. is everything okay? do you want to talk? 

Months ago, you think, you would have leapt at the opportunity—jumped through the screen and across space and time, practically, to have a chance to talk to him for an extended period of time, for a possible chance to win him back. Now you just feel embarrassment towards yourself for ever having felt that way. 

You never respond.

Taehyun's presence in your life is different now, too. You still work together, of course, but you have several shared classes again—so you find yourself studying and comparing essays at either his apartment or yours nearly three or four times each week. It's challenging, all of it, but in between, it does make you remember why you became friends with Taehyun in the first place—because he's not like anyone else you've ever known before. Every time you want to throw in the towel on a particularly lengthy assignment, he has some witty comment that gives you just enough energy to keep going. Every time you come by his apartment, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles upon seeing you sends a surge of warmth through you. If you have felt trapped in frigid ice since this breakup, Taehyun has been your sun, ever so gradually melting that ice away whenever you let him. 

And you do let him. One night, you're leaving his apartment after exchanging study guides for one of your midterms. You walk by his side, car keys swinging softly in between your fingers. 

"How are you feeling?" Taehyun asks right before you open your car door. He doesn't elaborate, but you know what he's talking about. 

So you turn to him. "I, um...I don't know if this will get better," you admit quietly. It's a fear you've harbored from the start—that you'll never get over Yeonjun, your first and last—that he will have created your perception of love, molded and shaped it to his design and his alone before shattering it, leaving you to pick up the pieces for the rest of your life. 

But Taehyun lets out a scoff at that. "It will. I promise, Y/N. It does get better." 

You narrow your eyes at him. "How do you know that? Hmm? Are you some secret fortune teller that I don't know about? Is that how you've been able to afford such a nice apartment here?"

He laughs at you. "No. I'm not a fortune teller. But I know this much—it'll get better. I can't tell you when, because I don't know that. It's something you'll have to figure out, I think. But one day, soon, you'll wake up one morning, and it'll hurt less. And then, a little later, it won't hurt at all. It'll feel like it was a bad dream. You'll get involved in other things, other interests, other people, and then you won't think of this when you wake up in the morning at all." 

You nod, slowly. "I want to believe you, Taehyun. I do. I just don't know how long that will take." 

But he just shrugs again. Damn him for being so easygoing. "That's okay. You know where I'll be, regardless."

You do know where he'll be—right by your side, just like he's been for the last six months. In truth, you had expected him to fall back on his promise to wait—you would have been sad, sure, but you wouldn't have blamed him. Putting up with you moving on from a relationship over the course of half a year, now, can't have been an easy task. But you've never heard a word of complaint from him. He isn't that kind of person—you know this now. He really will stick by you for as long as you'll allow him to—a kind of affection you haven't felt from anyone in a long, long time. 

But right beside you isn't the only place Taehyun seems to be. Your subconscious seems to have taken a liking to him, too—because that night, you see him in your dreams. You'd tossed and turned earlier, unable to fall asleep, throwing the sheets off the bed before you curl up into a ball and squeeze your eyes shut. When you finally find yourself lured back into sleep, you find Taehyun—strong and sweet and caring and beautiful Taehyun. He wraps his arms around you in the dream, hands grabbing hold of your waist before he presses his lips to yours in a heated kiss—as if he never wants to let you go. As if there isn't anyone else in the world that matters except for the two of you. 

You wake up in the morning and weep. 

Later in the day, you find tears brimming at the corners of your eyes again when you finally find the courage to delete the photo album on your phone of you and Yeonjun—but they never fall past your lashes, even when you hit the red delete button. 

Perhaps you've run out of tears for him, because none fall when you package away everything else of his in your apartment—every framed photo of the two of you, every stuffed animal he'd bought, every hoodie of his you'd once promised to give back all fit neatly in a single cardboard box, sealed and never to be seen again. 

Without the remnants of Yeonjun scattered throughout your apartment, you find yourself thinking of him less with each day that passes. The ghost who had once haunted every fiber of your being now seems like little more than a bad dream you've suddenly woken up from. This realization hurts you, just like the ones before it—but the hurt doesn't linger. It, too, grows faint before long, dissipated and fading away just like the rest of your relationship. 

The end of the semester doesn't sneak up on you this spring. You have a lengthy presentation for your hardest class, an argumentative speech that you've practically spent all semester preparing for. You and Taehyun practice for each other for weeks beforehand, critiquing and encouraging and teasing each other the whole way through—but it's still over before you know it. 

The morning after your final presentation, you don't wake up until the sun has risen high in the sky, peeking through the blinds over your window and finally raising you from sleep. You stretch as you walk over to the window, opening the blinds and peering out into the street below you. There's a couple walking on the sidewalk—and you recognize the girl as a regular from the library, the one with strawberry-colored hair whom Kai had been practically obsessed with back in the fall. 

She tugs at the sleeve of the man walking beside her, pulling him into a sudden kiss, and you instantly turn away from the window, giving them a moment of privacy despite their actions being in public anyway. 

Well—she obviously hadn't known about Kai's existence, but she'd still clearly been able to find some kind of happiness. The thought soothes you, in a way, and you think about how the scene below you would have made you feel six months ago. You would've been jealous, probably, and upset that you'd never experience anything like that again—but now the only thing it fills you with is longing. It makes you happy to see others experience something that you know feels like a gift. You want to experience that again too, you realize. 

The instant that thought forms in your head, another memory materializes. 

That's okay. You know where I'll be, regardless. 

You feel your heart soar at the recollection. 

Yes, Taehyun. I do.

V. SUMMER. 

Taehyun texts you the very first day summer break begins. 

> how'd your last final go? 

> omg i meant to tell you after work yesterday but kai's parents said he could stay in the beach house this weekend 

> like a very early birthday thing i think lol. it'll be a few ppl but you're more than welcome to come tomorrow if you haven't gone back home yet 

The invite sends a flurry of both excitement and nervousness through you. You haven't gone back home yet—your parents aren't coming until early next week to help you move out for the summer, not to mention the fact that you haven't see Taehyun or any of your other coworkers since the end of finals week. Excited doesn't even begin to cover it, you think. 

< i'll be there! 

Kai, thankfully, is a relatively easy person to shop for—you have no trouble at all picking up a wristwatch you remember him talking about a few times at work. And in truth, his birthday isn't for another two months, but you imagine he needed some excuse to convince his parents to let him throw an end-of-the-school-year party—so you don't mind the expense at all.

Kai is overjoyed to see you when you arrive at the beach house, thanks to Taehyun sending you the address, and even more so when he sees the gift bag in your hands. 

"You did not have to get me anything!" he exclaims, pouting, but you still see that glint of anticipation in his eyes despite his words. 

You beam at him, throwing your arms around him in a quick hug. You've missed this—being with your friends and not feeling like you were putting them through hell with you. Seeing them happy with you feels right in a way that nothing else has in months. "Happy birthday, Kai," you say, pulling back so he can tear into his present (which he does almost immediately). 

Taehyun is waving at you from the shallow end of the pool. "Did you bring a swimsuit?" you hear him call over Kai's shouts of excitement. 

You nod, biting back a grin as you pull your shirt over your head and tug your shorts off as quickly as possible, revealing the bathing suit that you'd worn on your way over underneath. You immediately run to jump in the deep end, splashing both Taehyun and Beomgyu, if the yells and laughs you hear when you resurface are any indicator. 

Beomgyu makes some excuse about needing to find the birthday cake, hauling himself up and out from the side of the pool when you start to swim over towards Taehyun.  

He doesn't budge, grinning at you as you make your way towards the shallow end. "Nice of you to make an appearance," he says, winking. 

"Well, I had to let you know I was here somehow, you know," you reply instantly, grinning right back. 

Taehyun's smirk widens. "Of course. And I'm glad you're here, Y/N. How'd you end up doing for your finals?" 

You shrug. "A’s and B’s. I'm still pretty satisfied with how that presentation for Dr. Lee went, though—how about you?" 

He pushes your shoulder playfully. "Look at you! I told you you'd kill that speech. I knew you could do it." 

You feel the ghost of his hand on your skin even after it's gone, shivers rippling down your spine at the thought—and that does it. You can't keep up the small talk any longer. "I have something for you," you announce, as stone-faced as you can manage. "Close your eyes." 

Something flickers in his eyes—surprise? delight, even?—but it's gone just as soon as you notice it. "For me?" He laughs. "But it's Kai's birthday party." 

You nod. "I know," you say. "I already gave him his present. You get one too." 

Taehyun's eyes narrow. "Am I getting the same thing as Kai?" 

You can't bite back the grin that tugs at your lips. "Not even close." 

He seems satisfied with that, finally, so he closes his eyes. You know you'll only get one chance to do this, to do it right with the element of surprise—so you lean in as quickly as you can, before the logical side of your brain can catch up with the rest of you, and press your lips to the side of his cheek. 

Taehyun looks at you, eyes wide open with surprise, until—"You missed." 

You frown. "I what?" 

He nods, as if that should have been obvious. "Mmm-hmm. You missed." There's only a split second for you to realize what he means before he's taken hold of your chin with two of his fingers and brought your lips to his. He's kissing you. 

Taehyun is kissing you. 

There are no fireworks or cannons shooting above your head, no angel floating down from the heavens to confirm that this moment has been the peak of your entire life—but kissing Taehyun is soft. Gentle. It's all the comfort he always makes you feel, has always made you feel—nothing feels more right than being pressed up against him here, with one hand cradling your chin and one settled securely on your hip as his lips move against yours.  

There still aren't fireworks or cannons shooting off behind you—but what you do hear are loud whoops and cheers from your coworkers (and maybe a few fake retching noises). Taehyun pulls back a little once he hears those, dark eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort—but there are none. Instead, you laugh, and Taehyun does too, breath skating across your jaw as you feel more right than you have in an achingly long time. When he presses his lips to yours again, still smiling against the kiss, you feel that sensation of right, of warmth, of comfort practically coursing through your veins as you slide your arms around his neck. This, right here, is where you're supposed to be. 

“You waited,” you manage to breathe out in between kisses, holding tighter to Taehyun’s shoulders above the water to steady yourself.

He smiles at you, beaming brighter and warmer than the summer sun above the two of you. “Yes, Y/N,” he whispers softly, moving his hand to cup your cheek in his palm. “And I’d do it again if it meant we would still end up right here.”

It's not the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another—life is hardly ever that smooth. It just is. 

You don't know the kind of partner Taehyun is yet. You don't know that he'll almost always keep a hand on your thigh when you sit together, that he'll write a list in the notes app of his phone of your orders at each of your favorite restaurants, that he'll love to take candid photos of you to show you later, that one day the two of you will be in a very similar position to the way you are now while a small black box holds a hefty weight in his back pocket—but you don't have to know any of that yet. 

You're here with Taehyun, now, your arms around him as his wrap around you, and that's what matters. The rest you can figure out together.

taglist: @petrichor-han @kangroo-chan @ot7lonelylover @lilacdreams-00 @mainexiii @awkwardnesshabitat @lotus-dly @elizabeth11moreno @nerdysl-t @seung-scrittore

©️ noramoons 2021-2022. do not translate or reupload my writing.

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: Suicide (this is a serious topic, please be careful), depression, alcoholism, toxic relationship, intolerance, shy reader (this will pass someday), extremely cute Jungkook 😊 and Gureum (JK's former dog) 😫🙏

A/N: Hi again! I came back earlier than expected, but since I already have a good part of the story written, it wasn't too much work (this won't happen all the time). The themes of this chapter are difficult, so please be careful while reading. It's a short chapter because it’s still an introduction to the story. Things will start happening quickly from now on. Just know that in advance 👀

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Chapter 2

I read the words from my favorite book, The Notebook, and even though every time I open its pages, I’m transported to another dimension, this time it doesn’t happen. I shift uncomfortably in my bed, feeling anxious. My mind is filled with thoughts yet simultaneously empty.

After dinner tonight, I couldn’t accomplish much. I took a shower and tried to watch a documentary I was excited to start, but it failed to capture my attention and did nothing to ease my worries about my neighbor, Misuk. Like her, my father also suffered from depression. I was just a child of 11 when I remember the first time he attempted to take his own life. I was young, but the weight of caring for him, even in terms of his mental health, felt heavy. My father would lie in bed all day, and not knowing what to do, I tried to bring him some comfort: getting good grades, making him proud, being affectionate and smart, asking for nothing from him except for what was essential for my survival.

My mother was incredibly strong; she worked at a marketing company almost all day, and when she came home, she would cook and help me with my math homework. I would sometimes catch her crying while cooking or cleaning up the daily mess, but she always said she was fine and put on a smile. I also remember that my father would occasionally have bursts of happiness. For at least a day, the man he used to be would return—energetic, funny, playful. It was only after some time that I, in my innocence, realized that this was worse. It gave us hope that the hard times would pass, that it was just a difficult moment, and that we didn’t need to worry because the turbulence would eventually subside.

But it didn’t pass. It got worse. With depression, came dependency. My father refused to take his prescribed medication and drank heavily every day. He would start in the morning and continue until nightfall. I felt fortunate if he collapsed on the couch and lost consciousness. Sometimes he would become aggressive, and I would retreat to my room, practically staying there all day. That’s how I began to find solace in reading. Books transported me to another world, more colorful and beautiful. My father, inebriated, didn’t exist in any other universe but my own, and that was comforting.

My parents started to argue; my mother was exhausted from holding everything together for months. One night, she pleaded with him to return to who he used to be, or else she would kick him out. He became so furious that he destroyed my grandmother's old wardrobe, and the only reason he didn’t hurt my mother was that he was too drunk to even reach her. I remember her grabbing my arms and dragging me upstairs, as we heard the car start and speed away from the garage. We only learned hours later that my father had died because he had my mother’s emergency contact saved on his phone. He had suffered a severe accident, crashing his car into a tall concrete wall.

A week after the funeral, my mother went to church for the first time. It became her balm, her ark in the midst of that flood, and I accompanied her without questioning or hesitating. I was so young and didn’t understand much; it felt like a relief. I wasn’t sad; I was happy. Happy that my father, the one I loved so much, was finally gone. The weight of worry, of caring for him, no longer existed. Confessing this to myself, much later, was difficult, but it was the truth. I was happy he had died because, for the first time in a long while, I didn’t have to sacrifice my childhood to look after him. I only had to take care of myself, and no one else.

I think of Misuk once more and find her depression reminiscent of my father's. Aside from that, she is completely different from him. I visited her house last month, and I would never have known what had happened if it weren’t for Jungkook. A tear rolls down my face uncontrollably. My throat tightens as I taste bitterness in my mouth. I feel relief that she hasn’t been able to follow through with her plan, relief because now I understand what she’s going through, and I can finally help her. I was a child when my father died and didn’t comprehend much, but now I can do things differently. I can help her, support her, and be there for her during tough times.

I rise from my bed with newfound energy as an idea flashes in my mind. I sneak into the kitchen in the early hours, trying not to make much noise and wake my mother. I walk through the dark hallway of my house to the kitchen, searching the cupboard for an old recipe book my grandmother left for my mother and me.

My mother never liked cooking, but I do. I’ve always enjoyed making desserts, and knowing I can brighten my neighbor’s day, I decide to prepare a treat. Patbingsu, a frozen dessert with sweet red bean, takes a few hours to make, but it’s easy to follow. I begin gathering the ingredients and organizing everything, only realizing how much time has passed when a deep sleepiness overtakes me and the sun begins to rise through the window.

I glance at my phone’s clock, my eyes widening. It’s now 6 a.m. I look at the dessert, adorned with fruits in a pot I set aside, and panic when I realize that the ice, if not consumed promptly, would become terrible. I smack my forehead in disbelief at my own foolishness. Biting my lower lip, I’m at a loss for what to do. It’s very early, and my neighbors might still be asleep. On the other hand, if I don’t deliver the dessert to them, I’ll likely lose both my recipe and the hours of sleep I sacrificed to make it.

I curse myself, weighing the pros and cons of each option. I decide to peek out the window into the neighboring house, searching for any lights on or signs of movement that might indicate my neighbors are awake. Nothing happens. I huff in disappointment. I decide not to deliver my dessert to Misuk; the mistake was mine for being impulsive and not thinking things through before acting. I step away from the window, feeling disheartened and sad, when suddenly the front door of the neighboring house swings open. Jungkook appears out of nowhere, barefoot and wearing a sweatshirt that nearly covers his hands.

I smile as I watch his sleep-laden face while he stretches and rubs his eyes, still groggy from sleep. He seems to be waking up a bit, opening the door to the house again. That’s when my trance breaks. This is the perfect moment to deliver the pot of sweets to his mother. I dash forward like a madwoman, not bothering to take off my apron or put on my slippers, grabbing everything in a hurry. I nearly trip over the flowers in front of my door, but I don’t stop.

“Jungkook! Jungkook!” I shout desperately. A few seconds later, I realize it’s still morning, and I might wake everyone up, so I run even faster to his door. I use all my body and agility to get there before the door closes, thinking he didn’t hear me and that, like an idiot, I wouldn’t make it in time. But the door opens again, and he only sticks his head out, one eye closed as if the sunlight is too much for him at this hour.

A happy, proud smile spreads across my face. I refrain from jumping with joy, knowing that would be excessive and he might think I’m crazy.

“Y/N?” he asks, his voice hoarse as if he’s seeing a mirage. “Good morning, how are you?”

“Good morning,” I reply with a smile. Then I realize I must be interrupting him with all this shouting, and finally, the embarrassment washes over me. “I’m sorry, it’s morning.”

“Yes, it is,” he says, looking me up and down; my apron is crooked, and my hair is a mess. I don’t blame him; he looks awake but not entirely ready. It’s almost as if he just crawled out of bed to greet the morning sun. I must be ruining his peace.

“I’m really sorry again, it’s just that…” I trail off, glancing at the pot in my hands. “I made a little something to sweeten your mother’s day. I hope she likes it.”

“You cooked?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “What time?”

“Almost now,” I reply softly, my voice short and hesitant. “I can deliver it to her later, if you want.”

“It’s 6:30 now,” he says, as if still trying to wrap his head around things. He doesn’t seem like a morning person, judging by his demeanor. “Come in, please.”

“No!” I respond quickly, my voice rising. My eyes widen in embarrassment. “You don’t have to; I just came to drop this off for her.”

“Just come in. I just need to wash my face and brush my teeth.” He smiles for the first time, a dimple forming on his cheek, and his doe dark eyes squint. “Come on, I insist.”

“Alright,” I whisper, feeling shy. I take small steps toward the door. I realize I have to pass by him to enter the house, and before I know it, I’m inside. The house is silent, and a small white puppy scurries around my feet, recognizing my presence. I smile, bending down to his level.

“This is Gureum,” Jungkook says from behind me. I nod.

“Your mom told me she adopted him.” I pet his ear, finding it amusing how his fluffy tail wags back and forth. “He wasn’t here last night.”

“Actually, he was, but in my room. My dad is allergic, so until we can get the medication, we keep him mostly to my room.” He explains. I turn to him, nodding in agreement. “I’ll wash my face and be right back.”

“You don’t have to bother; I just want to deliver this.” I repeat, feeling awkward.

“It’s no bother. You can sit on the couch; I’ll be right back.” Before I can respond, he hurries up the stairs, as if afraid I might vanish if he takes too long.

I sit on the couch, hearing the sound of tiny paws behind me. Gureum is so adorable and affectionate, and being small, he has to lift both front paws to reach my hands for pets. I laugh when he licks my hand, tilting his head as if expecting more affection. Minutes pass until Jungkook appears again, this time wearing a tight black t-shirt and a headband that keeps his dark hair pushed back. I forget about Gureum, mesmerized. He is incredibly handsome—almost like a literary character come to life right in front of me. My cheeks flush, and my heart races. For some reason, I like him very much. Since the first time I saw him, I have this feeling.

“Now we can talk,” he smiles, pulling up his gray sweatpants. “I really needed to brush my teeth… you know.”

“Yeah,” I agree, unsure of what to say. He sits on the couch, just a few inches away from me, and that alone makes me nervous. “I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to give this to your mom, but at the same time, I didn’t want to wake her. When I saw you, I just…”

“Wanted to hand it over,” he finishes, smiling. I nod in agreement. “It’s alright. It’s really kind of you to do this. My mom has been waking up later because of her medication, so it was a good idea to talk to me.”

“Thank you,” I say sincerely. He laughs suddenly at my answer, throwing his head back. His white teeth show, and curiously, his two front ones are slightly larger than the others, giving him a cute smile. It's very funny. I want to laugh with him, even though I’m still confused about why he’s laughing.

“Why are you thanking me? You made the sweets!” He justifies his laughter, still chuckling. I grin in embarrassment, hiding my face with my hands.

“I don’t know. I guess I feel guilty for coming to talk to you at this hour.” I shrug.

“Is that the kind of person you are?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, not understanding.

“A nice person,” Jungkook clarifies, smiling at me. His eyes meet mine for a few seconds, and the nervousness I felt earlier comes back stronger. I try to smile, fiddling with my nails, feeling awkward. “Thank you for bringing this dessert. What is it?”

“Patbingsu,” I say, feeling a bit more at ease. Talking about food calms me down. “It’s made with sweet beans and fruits; it’s very healthy.”

“Can I try some? I love patbingsu,” he asks, tilting his head to the side. I nod, opening the glass pot’s lid. He reaches for a fruit, and I can’t help but notice the tattoos adorning his pale arm. I swallow hard, feeling a shiver run down my spine.

His right arm is covered in various designs that stretch down to his fingertips. A flower, a tiger and a phrase that reads “Winners Never Quit” are the only things I can distinguish quickly. I try to focus on something else, but it’s nearly impossible. He is incredibly handsome, much taller than me, exuding confidence and assurance. His scent is the same as yesterday, so good that I wish I could close my eyes to concentrate and feel more; his breath is even fresher from the toothpaste he just used. His hair pushed back draws even more attention to his smooth neck, speckled with beauty marks that, if it weren’t for genetics, I’d say were strategically placed to drive me wild. One specific mole, just below his lower lip, takes my breath away. He moans as he chews on a blueberry, and my already shallow breath nearly escapes me completely. He opens his eyes, frowning as if the fruit were the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

“It’s delicious. Really sweet,” he says, licking his lips. “You should try some.” He picks up a strawberry, dipping it in the sweet milk and sugar ice and brings it close to my mouth. I can’t refuse, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I bite into the red fruit, trying not to graze the tips of his fingers, but Jungkook seems unbothered by it and offers the whole thing without hesitation. I can almost taste his skin along with the food, the way he hands it to me without much care. I try not to choke, overwhelmed by what he’s doing to me, unable to say a word.

I swallow everything without uttering a peep. He leans back on the couch, spreading his legs, pausing for a moment to observe me. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, incapable to meet his gaze. He draws me in like some sort of supernatural force, and I can’t fathom how I’ll manage to be near him every time I see him.

“You’re so kind,” he suddenly whispers to himself. I turn to look into his eyes, trying to understand him. “Thank you so much for caring for my mom in this way. I’m at a loss for words.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” he insists without hesitation. “My mom needs more people like you around her. I’m glad to have you here with her.”

“Jungkook... I... Your mom is very important to me. You really don’t have to thank me. I couldn’t sleep thinking about her, and I decided to bring this because I know she’s feeling deep pain right now.” I say, feeling brave and determined. I need to tell him this. “I appreciate you confiding in me about what you told me last night. I promise I’ll do everything I can to take care of her and be there for her. Her secret is completely safe with me.”

“I know that,” he assures, smiling slightly. He bends down to give Gureum a gentle pat, who is now lying near his feet. He looks back at me, nodding. “I’ll make it up to you somehow. You can count on that.”

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

@ttipa @ane102

[meowzfordayz]

when you’re going through an episode — mitsuri, shinobu, kyojuro, sanemi, giyuu

Author’s Note: it’s difficult to accurately capture the scope of bipolar disorder in a comfort fanfic, so just know that these preferences barely graze the surface of what it means to have bipolar, and that it’s more complicated and nuanced than fixing a bad day w/ a hug. 🖤 Update: was just informed that BPD stands for Borderline Personality Disorder. 😅 Apologies for my misunderstanding/mistake, but hope this still provides comfort! 🫶🏽

when you’re going through an episode — mitsuri, shinobu, kyojuro, sanemi, giyuu

Kanroji Mitsuri x Reader, Kocho Shinobu x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~1,000

CW: bipolar disorder

Emergency Request Fulfilled: I’ve been so depressed, stuck in the bpd episode for like a week. I can barely will myself to leave my bed

Could you maybe do some female demon slayer characters (Mitsuri, shinobu, lady tamayo, female muzan, etc) taking care of a reader also going through a bad depressive episode?

Emergency Request Fulfilled: hello, i am requesting for an emergency request of maybe the hashiras (esp rengoku) comforting their bpd lover while theyre currently going thru a bpd episode

my bpd has been really bad as of late and my episodes r exhausting me, i just want to be comforted. feel free to write whenever, i adore your writing sm!! thank you

~faqs~

When you’re going through an episode…

… Mitsuri’s talked with you previously to ensure she’s as educated and prepared for your episodes as she can be, but having an outline of how to support you is never quite the same as actually executing it. It’s difficult for her to not take your disorder personally, because she prides herself on being joyful, enthusiastic, and positive; she can only handle gentle rejection so many times before she needs space. That being said, she feels safe enough to communicate her own fears and disappointments, so ~space generally entails you shooing her out of the house for ~an hour to treat herself to bubble tea and sunshine before rejoining you back in the pillow fort (which she always makes because she knows it helps you feel just a little lighter; if it means guests can’t use the living room for an extended period, then oh well). Sometimes she’s successful in coaxing you along with her, fingers interlaced loosely with yours, her smile wide as ever; other times she’s sure to return with your go-to order, plus a few photos of pretty flowers that reminded her of you.

… Shinobu does her best to listen. Whether you’re waking her up at 2am Shinobu, I had a nightmare, calling her on her lunch break I haven’t gotten out of bed yet, or showering while she sits on the toilet lid I’m so tired, thank you for waiting for me; it’s a simple gesture that goes a long way. She knows she doesn’t have to have profound replies, just as she knows how important and special it is that you feel safe enough to let her into your head, especially when she knows how low you’re feeling. It also helps her—gently—interrupt you when you start catastrophizing or spiraling, counter your self-directed negative perceptions, and gauge your overall mood. She rarely offers advice—she knows she’s your partner, not your therapist—but she’s grateful she gets to bring a calm, logical presence to your weighted, preoccupied thoughts. When you smile faintly, eyes almost shining, couch cushion sinking as you scoot yourself closer to her warmth; that’s when she knows she’s on the right track. “I appreciate you,” you murmur, words sweet and apologetic on her skin. “And I appreciate you,” she chuckles quietly, body shifting to accommodate you curling into her, “You make me happy too.”

… Kyojuro does everything with an extra hint of softness. He understands maintaining a sense of normalcy can be helpful, but his chest aches at the exhaustion in your eyes, the halfhearted grip of your hand in his, how you laugh for his sake when he tries to make you smile — not because he actually succeeded. From washing your hair to feeding you bites of lunch, he goes out of his way to ease the process of simply being; to spark joy in the state of living. He knows satisfying basic needs are vital to getting through your episodes, just as he knows eating, bathing, going for a walk can be some of the hardest to do. Tough love isn’t his preferred method, so he opts for: making airplanes sounds while directing a spoonful of dinner toward your mouth, insisting he can’t reach his back to wash it, so, “Please join me in the shower! I need you!”, and claiming his hand feels lonely, “Could you hold it during my walk? I fear holding my own hand does not nearly suffice.” He doesn’t mean to belittle or baby you, but he’ll try anything to see you smile or even roll your eyes — to get to say I love you too.

… Sanemi doubts his ability to care for you. Make no mistake: he loves you, and doesn’t resent you in the slightest. He does, however, feel completely out of his depth. He understands in theory that loving someone isn’t all ease and sunshine, but in practice? He’d do anything to feel your smile on his lips, to have you snuggle further into his chest as he holds you, to hear you chat about your day, your favorite color, how you almost got caught in a downpour — anything, to know you’re ~okay. It takes a while for him to accept that ~okay comes in waves, and that silence on your end is not inherently rejection of his affection and effort. Telling him, “Even if I can’t express it in the moment, knowing you’re here beside me always makes me happy,” definitely helps reassure him that he can do something for you—by simply being him—and caressing his cheek when you think he’s asleep, murmuring, “Thank you for being patient with me, I love you,” reminds him all over again that I love you.

… it’s difficult for Giyuu to support you without feeling low himself. He feels so strongly for you, and is almost too close to provide the steady, neutral responses that seem to help you most. He can always hold you, can always kiss your forehead, touch your knuckles to his cheek, but he can’t always listen — he can’t always bend without breaking completely and utterly for you. Which isn’t to say you’re over reliant on or demanding of him; it’s just hard for him to know how much you’re hurting without taking that hurt into his heart and making it his own. He wants to be there for you, but navigating his boundaries and your needs definitely takes time, practice, tears, and forgiveness. “I want you to be yourself around me,” he murmurs, body spooning protective and cool behind you, “But I’m not the best when it comes to certain parts of you.” Nodding slightly, you clutch his hand to your chest, eyes closed as you reply, “And that’s okay. You can’t be good with all of me, and I’m not great with all of you either. But we both try, don’t we?” “Of course.” “That’s enough for me.” It’s enough for me too he thinks as he kisses the back of your head, grateful for the feeling of your smile grazing his fingertips.

[fandangotales]

Captor Xiao: Introduction

…

GN! Reader

Warnings: Unhealthy attachment, obsessive tendencies, descriptions of depression, dark content.

Please do not read if you think this will have a negative affect on your mental health. If you are experiencing any of these behaviors/habits yourself, please seek out support.

There’s a loud crash, as Xiao’s keyboard slams into his desk. He had just got sniped… again. He hissed in annoyance, closing out of the game. He just wasn’t able to focus as usual, and instead his mind was running rampant with thoughts and images of you.

He groans, laying down on his bed, staring at the darkness of the ceiling. The only light came shown from his computer monitor, as it flickered randomly.

Earlier, he had watched another one of your streams, and some of your random content on YouTube. Gods, he loved you so much. Just seeing those videos, or even just hearing your voice was enough to drag him out of the worst of moods… which was quite the feat these days.

You usually streamed once a week, and he honestly didn’t know what he would do without those regular updates. It was almost like a set schedule… every Friday night, you’d stream for a minimum of 2 hours. Such an event had repeated for the last 2 months, much to his delight. At this point, Xiao couldn’t imagine going without those weekly updates. Sure, he could watch some contemplations, or rewatch one of your recorded streams. But it really wasn’t the same the second time… not when he had memorized every single word that came out of your pretty lips.

Maybe his… interest in you was getting a little overboard. Although, he couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when you had done so much for him and his current self. You could be compared to a sweet dream… utterly perfect and uplifting in every form. And for Xiao, whose life had been filled with so many struggles, he found it incredibly difficult to break away from that sweet dream. He never wanted to let you go… because if he did, he would simply return to that… terrible sense of misery that seemed to accompany him even in the happiest of moments.

With you… he didn’t feel the overwhelming pressure that usually accompanies his mind. And sometimes, he would pretend you were there with him, if only to help him do the simplest of tasks. Getting out of bed at a reasonable hour, or taking care of himself was instantly made much easier, if he would take the time to imagine you there with him, with one of your typical comments.

“Wake up, silly goose. It’s literally 11am!” You’d say, with your ever-present smile.

Or sometimes,

“Come on, you can do it. Take a shower… it’ll only take 20 minutes, max. It’s not so bad. If you do that… you can eat some of the almond tofu left over in the fridge!”

Maybe it wasn’t the most normal thing to imagine, but if it helped? He wasn’t complaining.

Xiao buried his face in the single pillow on his bed, letting out a sigh. Just seeing you was enough to make him smile… the soft tone of your voice and the way you’d always dress up for your streams… it was truly a sight to see. You were divine… gracing him with your time and company, if only through the screen of his computer monitor. This way, he was allowed to bask in your presence, even if he was a nobody. Even if he didn’t deserve the smallest bit of attention from you.

His computer made a soft sound, indicating that he had an unread notification. He instantly clicked on it, after he saw the typical greeting from your twitch channel.

“Hi everyone!

I’m so sorry to announce this, but I’ll be taking a 3 week break due to some personal reasons. Please don’t worry about me, as everything is completely fine. I just need some time to take a break from my usual routine, as I’ve been feeling tired and worn out as of late. Thank you for your understanding, and I’ll be seeing you all after three weeks.

Love you all, and stay safe…”

.

.

.

.

N

.

.

.

No….

.

.

It’s as if his mood had completely dropped to rock bottom. Forget his previous excitement; forget his previous happiness at seeing one of your announcements. It all was crushed the moment he read those words.

3 weeks.

You couldn’t be serious. 3 weeks? Three whole weeks. It was already hard enough… waiting for 6 days between your regular weekly streams.

The day after the stream would be the easiest, as he would be thinking back to everything that you said throughout the day. It was fresh in his memory… your comforting presence fresh in his mind.

The day after that, the initial happiness began to fizzle away. Still there… but it was much less potent than the day before.

Halfway through the week, it’s almost as if he hadn’t even seen you. Those were always the hardest days… the days were he was thrust back into the familiar feeling of loneliness. It was a heavy feeling, weighing down on him as he tried to sleep. He struggled to even relax… as the negative feelings would always overwhelm him to the point where he didn’t even have the energy to get out of bed. At that point, it seemed like there was no point of anything. No point of taking care of himself. No point in eating. No point… of simply existing. There was no point, if he was without you.

The two days before the stream, his mood switched to one of anxious anticipation. He knew you’d be online… in 2 days. If he could just hold out until then, he’d be able to see you again!

The very day before the stream, Xiao didn’t even sleep. He couldn’t forgive himself if he missed even one second of your content, or one second of your intro screen. It was like a religious ritual… one that he followed perfectly as if he was your devoted worshipper.

2 hours before the stream, he was biting his nails. The anticipation was killing him.

1 hour… he was grabbing another cup of coffee. He was exhausted, but it was worth it if he was able to see you.

30 minutes… he tapped his leg, as he shifted in his gaming chair. Usually your intro screen was on by now… what was happening? Was something wrong? Did you…

Can…

Cancel?

This couldn’t be… not after he put so much effort into staying awake just for you. His breathing got heavier, as he started going into a full blown panic attack. You… you were avoiding him? What did he do…? He’s sorry… he must’ve disappointed you… he’s so worthless… sorry…

he’s sorry…

15 minutes later, the familiar waiting screen appeared on, with a little note apologizing for the late start. He breathed a sigh of relief, as his previous mood completely evaporated at the sight.

You were just late… everything was ok. What a benevolent streamer you were, offering a little apology just for him. He sighed, smiling slightly. You always were the sweetest…

When the stream started, his expression changed to one of pure elation. Seeing you… seeing this new content, hearing about your day… it was the best thing that has happened to him since your last stream. He eagerly watched the stream, replying to your little comments as if you were talking to him and him alone.

You think the “Crimson Witch of Flames” domain is terrible? Xiao agrees, because the Lavawalker set is useless. (He doesn’t even know what artifacts are… he just heard you complain about that set in particular)

You pulled Nahida in a recent banner? Xiao doesn’t even play Genshin Impact, but he’s already looking into this character so that he can better understand your favorite game. He really doesn’t need to understand the whole story line of the game… but if it helps him connect with you in that way, then he’ll gladly look into it. Even if it means watching hours of videos, and spending hours on the Genshin Impact Wiki.

He’s just that devoted… willing to do that… willing to do… anything for you.

.

.

.

.

One week was doable. A struggle, but he could always power through.

But…

Three weeks?

His apartment was silent, except for an occasional sob, as he curled into a small ball on the floor of his room.

The teal LED lights shown down on his pale body, as it was shook on the floor.

The only other sounds in that apartment was the quiet hum of his PC fans, and the occasional startup sound of the air conditioner.

He was alone.

Again.

Again.

Again, he’s alone.

…he needed you.

[dantesunbreaker]

NSFW: That Thing

Dewdrop x AFAB!Reader

Summary: When Dewdrop notices his partner hasn't left their room in days, he goes to see if he can help lift their mood and get them cleaned up. Who doesn't love a warm bubble bath?

Author's Note:This is inspired by a friend of mine! They will often share that when they are having difficult times with their depression and overall hygiene from it, their partner will help them shower and wash their hair. Sometimes they say it ends in more tears, sometimes it ends feeling better overall, and sometimes it ends in something more intimate. That last one is what I went with for this story because I am thirsty for Dewdrop.

“I know you don’t want to do anything,” Dewdrop rests half perched beside you on the bed, one hand carding through your rather unkempt oily hair. “But let’s at least get you bathed.” Nothing is harsh about his tone, zero judgment for your current lack of hygiene. 

Your eyes close, heaving a heavy sigh as you sink further into the mattress for a moment, all your focus channeling into the soft touch of Dew’s fingers on your skin. It takes almost every bit of energy in you as you sluggishly slide off the side of the bed. Dewdrop’s arms are immediately supporting you, a wide, toothy grin on his face as he helps you to the adjoining bathroom. Sitting on the edge, you watch as Dew begins to fill the tub, adding various oils that have you inhaling deeply. Normally, he would present each one to you to smell, letting you pick out your own scents. But he knows right now time is of the essence. The sooner he can get you into the water the better. While the water rises, with Dewdrop’s assistance, you pull off your clothes piece by piece for perhaps the first time in days. 

“There we go,” Dewdrop sighs in unison with you as he helps lower you into the water, sinking down until the bubbles reach all the way up to your collarbone, your head resting back against the edge. “You sit there and relax a bit, I’m going to go change the sheets. When I’m back, I’ll wash your hair. Is that okay?”

Dewdrop waits for your response, half sitting on the edge of the tub as he leans over to gently cup your cheek. It is always such a touching experience to see this softer side of the fire ghoul, a side that not many people at the ministry got to witness. Not yet ready to use your voice, you manage a meek smile as you answer with a nod. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” your eyes close with content as Dewdrop presses a kiss to your temple. “Love you.” And then he is out the door, leaving you alone to soak in the bubbles alone.

Though you hate admitting it to even yourself, you know that this is something that you desperately need. You can’t recall the last time you took a shower. Even you were beginning to take note of the smell wafting off you. However, the heavy and dull ache of your joints hinders your ability to do much more than simply wait for Dew to return. But you are entirely content to just enjoy reclining in the soothing comfort of being submerged in warmth. So content that when you hear the door softly open and close you actually let out a short huff of breath, disrupted from drifting to sleep.

A teasing glimpse and matching smile is shot your way as you roll your head so you are facing Dewdrop, but he says nothing as he closes the distance between you. Rather than join you in the bathtub as you expect, the fire ghoul kneels beside it, upper half leaning over the edge so that his arms may reach. One arm stretches across you, grabbing both shampoo and conditioner with one hand. You are keenly aware as he forgoes your own care products for his own. Dew knows you well enough that it is no secret you steal his soaps and shampoos when you are having a bad day. 

“Think you can lean back to dip your hair for me, babe?” Dewdrop slides a hand around your back for support as you shuffle forward to do as requested. “That’s good, I’m so proud of you,” his praise washes over you like a soothing balm as you swiftly submerge your hair.

Just as quickly, you sit back up and throw your arms out to rest on the edges of the tub. Eyes closed, you hum with delight at the soft scratch of Dewdrop’s claws along your scalp as he begins to work shampoo through your hair. You can practically feel the heavy shroud of darkness rolling off you in waves as Dewdrop takes such diligent care working out the dirt and tangles of your hair. It’s as if Dewdrop was washing away the black haze filtering your emotions along with your hair. 

There is a gentle nudge at your shoulder you take as a request for you to lean back to dip your hair, though not fully submerging. One clawed hand continues to scrub into your hair wherever his other hand pours water that he has cupped. You follow a similar set of motions as Dewdrop conditions your hair before lathering up a washcloth with one of your favorite scents of soap. When you shuffle to rest against the back of the tub you feel a familiar tingle run down your spine. Arousal. Dewdrop presses the towel to your skin and all you can think to yourself is that you don’t remember the last time you were intimate with your ghoul.

When Dewdrop’s hand travels lower, brushing against your inner thigh as he works soap into your skin, you can not keep a small moan from slipping past your lips. That seems to catch the fire ghoul’s attention. With a newfound glimmer in his eyes, Dew turns to watch your face as he gives a teasing stroke along your thigh. This time you release a moan without restraint.

“What’s that? Does someone need help taking care of something else?” Dew traces lazy patterns into your abdomen, giving you a coy wink. Though he is a tease, Dewdrop is more than happy to give you that release should you so desire. 

Even after all this time you still feel nervous and shy at the topic of intimacy with Dewdrop, squirming slightly under his fiery yet tender gaze. But you don’t let that stop you. Never in a million years would your ghoul do anything to hurt you or that you did not want.

“Yes,” you bite your bottom lip as you look up at Dewdrop through your lashes. Watching the spark of excitement flicker through his eyes gives you a quick rush of adrenaline. “Please take care of me, Dew.” 

Instead of moving his soft touches further south, Dewdrop instead slides his hands up to lather your collarbone with soap. For a moment you are left befuddled. Maybe you misinterpreted the situation? But then you see that look on Dewdrop’s face, the one that means he is up to no good. You furrow your brow and prepare your retort. That’s when you feel it. A soft tickle at your ankle that slowly shifts towards the juncture of your thighs.

“Wha-?” The question isn’t even fully out of your mouth before you cut yourself off as you glance down your body. Slithering up the length of your thigh is none other than a particular ghoul’s tail, the spade hovering just above your mons. “Oh.”

Dewdrop gives a mischievous chuckle as he leans in, the tip of his nose grazing along the length of your neck. As the tip of his tail slides through your folds, a gasp leaves you, making you arch up while Dew presses a hungry kiss against your skin. Soft mewls leave you as he settles for caressing small circles against your clit, white knuckling the edges of the tub, nearly pulling yourself out of the water.

“Relax,” you feel Dewdrop’s hot breath as he purrs into your ear, sending a tingle down your spine and straight to your sex. Until that moment you were unaware of the visible tension in your body. While his tail pleases you, his hands keep busy with lathering soap along your upper body. The primary goal is to get you bathed after all. “I’ve got you, baby. Let me take care of everything.”

All the tension in your body dissipates, arms dropping to your sides as your body, seemingly boneless sags back into the surrounding water. You roll your head to the side so you can watch Dewdrop’s face with a lazy smile. Dew gives a wink, taking in the soft noises you make as he prods lightly at your entrance. A gasp leaves you as you feel the blunt tip push into you only to pull back just as quick. When you whine, begging without words for him not to tease you, Dewdrop laughs at your impatience. 

It does not take long before the ghoul takes mercy, popping the spade of his tail inside you in time with your inhale of breath. While it sends a jolt through you, it is impossible not to marvel at how remarkable yet foreign the feeling is. Though nowhere near as thick as Dewdrop’s dick, the sides press deliciously against your walls as he begins to work further into your hole. But perhaps the most jarring is the flexibility that allows Dew to curl the tip of his tail up to press against that spot that has you throbbing. 

Your eyes close, head tilted back as Dewdrop begins to properly fuck you with his tail, driving it in and out of your heat at a speed that disrupts the surface of bubbly water. But the fire ghoul seems unphased by the intimate actions of his tail, focusing on washing each of your arms. Which somehow makes it all the more arousing. When Dew reaches your legs, you can already feel the tight coil of your climax forming. You clench around his tail with a heavy moan as you feel a jarring jab at that point of pleasure inside your drenched pussy.

When Dewdrop gets to your other leg, you simply can’t hold back any longer. “Dew, please!” Your moan is on the whining side as you clutch at his hand, trying to drag him closer. “Fuck- ah, please I need you!”

Need and desperation has you rising halfway out of the water to wrap an arm around Dew’s shoulders as he shuffles closer, pulling until you bury your face into his neck. The other hand travels down the length of your body, sliding your palm to cup your sex in an attempt to press his tail deeper. You moan straight into Dew’s ear as he pulls you close to his chest and presses his tail impossibly deeper until it can go no further. 

“That’s it,” Dew’s voice is breathy and low, just as excited as you from watching you nearly come undone at his touch. “Just let go. You are doing so well, baby.”

Hot tears sting your eyes, your sense of reality shattering as you are consumed by pleasure under Dewdrop’s gentle praise. A scream rips through your throat, but the sound is quickly swallowed as your ghoul seals his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. You rise fully out of the water, pressing yourself as close to Dewdrop as possible, feeling sinfully aglow as your hips continue to rock with the motion of the tail still stroking your inner walls as they continually spasm. It’s near torturous when you feel Dew’s hand slide between your bodies, nudging your hand aside as he circles your clit in time with the motion of your hips. 

Slowly as you begin to come down, Dewdrop pulls his lips from yours in favor of grazing the points of his fangs down the length of your neck. As the tension in your body ebbs away, your body trembling in the aftershocks, you drop like a boneless puddle into the water. Some splashes over the sides and hits the floor, but neither of you pay it any mind. Dewdrop is too focused on the near drunken smile plastered on your face. 

“Feel better?” Dew asks with a gentle smile, sweeping back the hair that has fallen across your forehead before placing a kiss there.

“Yes,”you hum pleasantly before your smile drops ever so slightly. “But uh..the water is cold now.”

There is a moment of shared laughter between the two of you before Dewdrop stands to help you out of the tub. Once you are seated on the outer lip, he grabs a towel and personally takes it upon himself to pat you dry, massaging the tight muscles in your calves as he works his way up. When he makes his way back up to your face, he pauses when he sees the fresh tears that threaten to fall. But you flash a bright smile.

“Thank you, Dewdrop,” your voice wobbles a bit, but your smile stays steady and genuine. “I really needed this.”

In turn, Dew gives you an equally big smile that is full of warmth. “Of course, baby. I love you, and I will always be here to pick you up when you need it.”

[may-bee-its-just-me]

personal life update

Hey yall, i figured i'd take some time to give a personal life update as well as allow myself to vent for a second. I'll start with the positives for those not interested in the emotional bits :]

I've been making more substantial steps towards buying a car! I've been looking into this one Saturn, and while it's got a few minor issues, it's still my best option so far. Hoping to buy it for 2000, or 2500-3000 if the seller is willing to continue fixing the current known issues.

I've also been growing a bit closer to God, and I've been finding peace among the chaos. I'm learning to lean on Him for support - which has been an uphill battle against myself and the feeling I need to cling onto what i can control, but when i have been able to let go it's been very freeing. I'm still working on myself and growing in Christ, but progress is progress.

I recently got promoted to Crew trainer (about a month or two ago). I'm now making 75 cents more an hour than I did this time last year, after two biannual performance reviews and a promotion. I heard rumors that I'd been in consideration for a management position but I havent been talked to about it specifically, and I'm not sure if I'd accept if offered it. Still flattering to know though :]

Apparently more than once, customers have spoken to my managers and possibly even some higher ups praising my work ethic. I think its specifically when working on front counter/in lobby, as I'm most actively engaging with customers then and they can see me compulsively scanning over lobby for trash when im otherwise not busy. Regardless, it's nice to know I'm making a genuine positive impact on customers' experiences and potentially the rest of their days. Today, one such pair of customers is an older couple known for being very particular, occasionally rude/difficult to serve. They had already called our regional manager that day to complain before I was moved up front, saw them, and said hi. Later on one of my managers came up to me and had mentioned they liked me, and I assume said something to them about it. :]

On the flip side, i've been in a depressive funk for several months now. I'm actually questioning if it's a depressive funk, or if I'm always depressed and sometimes it's just...not as bad. But the last few weeks have been worse. I'm struggling to take care of myself, and while it's not as bad as it has gotten before - I went three days without showering this week and lately i've been routinely skipping showers after maintaining showering almost daily for a year.

For the last few weeks I keep going back and forth between losing my appetite, and eating myself into feeling sick. I'm pretty sure this is from grief and will pass though.

My boyfriend broke up with me 3 weeks/almost a month ago. For reasons, although there wasn't any real conflict between us during the relationship, it was more internal conflict and convictions. We'd been getting distracted with each other, putting off other things to spend time with each other. He needed to focus on his health and figuring his life out. Part of me still wants to cling onto hope he'll come back around, wants to go back and fight back against his reasons for leaving, because I damn know he still cares about me more than friends. But I'm trying to just trust that if we're meant to be, God will bring us together again naturally when we're ready for it. Trying to focus on getting my shit together on my end, and let Him figure the rest out. We're still friends, and through the relationship we were always friends above all else, so I'm thankful to still just have him in my life. I'll be okay, but the grief does eat away at me sometimes. I thought I had been recovering from it pretty well, but that was suppression (oops). I keep going back and forth from feeling okay about it, and feeling like a piece of me is missing. I even get mad at him from time to time, blaming him for my hurt feelings. "You promised forever" "you actively encouraged me to open up and lean on you, encouraged me to share my burdens with you, and now im supposed to just be okay with that ripped away" and then i see him, and i remember its not his fault, and he's always had my best interest in mind. Even in breaking up with me, he was doing out of the place of wanting what was best for both of us, and thought I deserved someone who already had everything together and wasnt a mess in himself. I know he genuinely meant every word he said in the moment, because i saw him. I saw it in his eyes. I saw it in his actions. I found the card he gave me for my birthday, and it made me cry, because it hurts my heart to think he's breaking both of our hearts needlessly. But everything happens for a reason, and so I'm trying to just...go with the flow of wherever this season of my life takes me. It hurts to think of either of us moving on with someone else, but whatever happens happens. I have so much love to give, and it's a challenge to find somewhere in the tangible physical realm to put it.

Silver lining, he said I can keep the shirt and hoodie he had let me borrow before. I've been wearing his hoodie everywhere...The only thing stopping me from still carrying my promise ring around is the sensory issues that caused me to stop wearing it to work in the first place.

The few coworkers I've told are convinced we're going to get back together soon, but again, trying to trust God and not my own hopes and dreams lol At the very least, no one can gossip about the break up because they can still see us laughing and getting along fine at work. A different couple had briefly broken up, and the amount of gossip that was floating around was awful - everyone talking trash about either person involved because there was a lot of friction between them. I'm just glad that wont be the case for us, and if we don't reunite anytime soon, at least we can still function at work more or less normally.

thats all tonight folks. Thanks for reading, God bless.

-Mod Bee🐝

[lion-of-liberation]

I need to expose my thoughts. I talk and express a lot and yet there’s endlessly more under the surface always. It’s never-ending. I doubt there’s a single person that can handle the endlessness of it all. Some of its mundane, some is significant, some is deeply emotional, but they’re all intertwined and I can’t tell if that’s just what is or if I created it myself. I’m not sure if that even matters either because at this point it’s all real enough that I feel the need to purge it from my brain. I’ll start with some straight forward stuff: what I have self-diagnosed myself with and done nothing about.

It’s honestly embarrassing to think about self-diagnosing myself but… I know me best and I see how different I act in front of any human. It’s almost like I’m never there. Sometimes I am and I love it. But I don’t know why it’s hard to be there. And afterward I regret it and begin thinking about non existence. I’ve challenged myself to type out every natural thought as it comes. I’m not a fan but I need this out. I feel pretty qualified to self-diagnose as I work in the mental health field but do to the nature of what I believe I got going on, I haven’t done anything about this to go find out from an outside source.

This also embarrassing because I feel it’s common. But I hear others using stereotypes and basic examples as justification for their self-diagnosis. I’ve spent years on this. It was 5 years before I said anything to a friend out loud. Anyways… I believe I have ADHD. Stemming from that I’ve developed a propensity for anxiety, depression and imposter syndrome.

Currently, imposter syndrome and depression seem to be taking over. Anxiety used to be a bugger issue, leading to panic attacks and very literally running away. I’m in massage therapy school right now so I feel I’ve learned how to manage anxiety better naturally through this experience.

Depression - my motivation to do anything, including eat or shower has been dwindling for months. It gets better and then gets worse. I know that’s the nature of things but I just want be able to eat at least. I don’t know why something so simple is so difficult for me. Everyone seems to see me as an intelligent and thoughtful person and it just feels like they don’t know me at all. That’s the imposter syndrome right there.

I feel like my brain is full of all these things I want to be and do and I do none of it and my self appreciation just goes down every day. The thoughts of falling into a coma or disappearing have been more and more frequent and starting earlier and earlier in the day.

I feel stuck in some void, but it’s surrounded by mirrors so only I can see me and everyone else sees…something else.

I felt called to type all this out today because something significant yet insignificant happed as soon as I woke up. Someone had deleted me as a friend on Snapchat. I’d never known them in real life. We’d been in each others social media for a few years now. I thought of them as strange and cool, and potentially someone who’d be a friend. It seemed like we were on the same wavelength for a lot of things. He’s even said that once as well. I think people say things heartwarming often thoughtlessly and I’m always the person who takes it seriously and cherishes it. It’s why I hate hearing “I love you.” Anyways I was filled with thoughts that this man could be part of my soul family - a friend I’m meant to have in this life because so many of our interests and ways of being overlapped. I responded to his story yesterday… I guess he hated my response. Maybe something about it revealed to him an aspect of myself he found annoying enough to delete me after 3 years.

I didn’t think I’d be so hurt. But I cried really hard and I’m still crying now. Partly I had a small crush as I often do strictly with males very far from me, but honestly I was holding out hope I’d meet him and gain a new kind of friend. Now that fantasy is demolished and I’m devastated. There’s something good out of this I know. The universe might be pushing distractions out of my way. I’m too good at finding them. Maybe he felt how hard I was hoping he’d be my friend in real life. It all sounds pathetic. I feel starved for deep human connection yet when I make friends I’m so….awkward and feel I have to hide how much I like them. I don’t even like people often. I just don’t know what to do with myself. I’d rather disappear.

I think I’ll procrastinate on talking about what I feel is ADHD in behavior. Specifically the imposter syndrome is what I feel the most. I feel like a joke and disappointment and I’m not sure how I’ll ever change or how to fulfill myself.

[valerieismss]

Thinking about Domini…Domini, whose main character struggle is her obsession with moral pureness. She sees it as unattainable because of her scrupulosity ocd—she believes that by definition, any acts of goodness are just attempts at self preservation. She is blind to any sort of altruistic characteristic she may possess because she believes in her condition qualifies it, and thus ruins its integrity.

As such, Domini is on a lot of medication. Like, A Lot. She’s on a dose of zoloft that surpasses the legal maximum. She’s on antipsychotics, because her ocd borders on delusion—it’s severe, and diagnostically she’s documented as having poor insight. She is an unwavering believer of her mediocrity, and has lost faith in her ability to improve without medical aid. To be fair, from her perspective, it would make sense. Her health continues to decline even as she does what she believes is the purest moral act that she can do, which is anonymous and traumatizing volunteering at citrus.

Why doesn’t it work? She wonders often if there is an inherent filth to her character. Her life is a desperate attempt at a shower during a drought. Her motifs have a lot to do with Catholic imagery, since she’s basically martyring herself (specifically, her sanity) on a daily by volunteering. But literally. Unbeknownst to her, she is literally destroying her neural health by taking the medication that all volunteers are required to take in order to enter mindscapes. She is decaying.

I’m not quite sure what the effects of this medication are just yet. I’m thinking they speed up the process of myelin sheath decay—as in, they cause VERY early onset dementia. Or maybe somehow episodes of it.

Essentially, Domini’s brain is currently as medicated as it gets. She’s unwashable and unrinseable. Her motifs, up until now, have consistently just been…Catholicism. Angel wings but no halo. Crosses everywhere. Bleeding heart dove. Harsh judgement, staunch criticism, and an unforgiving mind.

But I think it would be really fun to give her a decay motif. Specifically, I think that her corruption should not only be mental but physical.

Domini is based on me but worse, and my worst fears involve corruption. Moreover, they involve a strong fear of filth. This is probably because I grew up in a hoarder house. It’s not a severe hoard by any means, but it is…diagnosable. I’m not germaphobic, my ocd is mostly pure obsessional—those are the grounds of my diagnosis. But Domini isn’t a one to one replica of me…she could be a little different.

Emery also has ocd, theirs is moral scrupulosity while Domini’s is kind of a mix between moral and religious scrupulosity. Emery, however, also has mental contamination ocd. This is when obessions of impurity are followed by compulsions of physical cleanliness. I incorporated this into their design—Emery’s office is usually extremely—and almost hauntingly—clean. Their hands are scarred from excessive hand washing, which is their main compulsion. They probably also have chemical burns on them from excessive use of chemical cleaning materials.

Domini isn’t really like that. Her exhaustion comes through in her appearance. She tries to look put together, yes, but she’s got heavy eyebags and VERY grown out roots. (Emery also has heavy eyebags, but they’re 43). While her clothes aren’t dirty, it should be noted that she has very oily skin and hair. She hides it well enough, but upon close inspection, she has poor hygiene habits.

There’s a point where we get to see Domini’s inner landscape and her corrupted form. Filth may be a good motif here. It would be interesting, and not difficult to pair with her already existing motifs—rusty rosaries, expired wine, moldy bread…and also. I find this motif extremely underused…but what about her menstrual cycle?

We know she has poor hygiene, a product of self neglect due to depression due to a feeling of incurable inadequacy. She is a perfectionist, and with perfectionists, sometimes you simply don’t give something a solid attempt because you believe failure is certain. Blood is a strong motif within Christianity. Periods are a source of shame for many afab people. Again, Domini is somewhat put together—she brushes her teeth, she wears deodorant, she tries to not appear disagreeable which includes making sure that she doesn’t bleed through her clothing. However, poor period hygiene is relatively easy to hide aside from making sure you don’t bleed through your clothing.

I don’t think periods are an inherently dirty thing. I don’t want my writing to portray them as such. But Domini? Domini DOES think this—she’s been raised by image obsessed people who shamed her on the daily, who were never satisfied no matter how clean she tried to be (eventually, she mostly gave up on these pursuits, hence her poor hygiene). I want players to understand that Domini subconsciously believes periods are filthy, but I don’t. That said, something about dirty pads and tampons left for days on end is absolutely horrific, I think those things are for most people. It’s not something I see utilized in horror often, but it’s the reality of a lot of depressed afab people. I just think this motif is so poignant. It’s the most jarring visual representation of Domini’s shame that I can think of.

Domini believes she is filthy. Her mental landscape is littered with expired Catholic food and used period products to represent her deep sense of shame. I think grease would also add to that.

Grease scares me a lot. I hate the feeling of it, and to me, it’s one of the most dirty things imaginable—a product of gluttony. For Domini, a character who deprives herself of any indulgences, grease is symbolically diametrically opposed to who she desperately tries to be. But how would I incorporate that…? I’m not sure. Where exactly would I put it…greasy pads don’t exist. That would really suck if they did. I guess I could make them greasy. Ugh. That’s so gross. Oh! I guess I could do that. But it doesn’t feel like enough, and I’m not sure the symbolism would come through.

I should mention that another one of Domini’s motifs is candles. I can’t think of anything interesting to do with them. With everything else I’ve thought up, I’d probably also include some fleas. Duh. I think Domini and Emery are very similar people, but I like being able to delineate this difference between them. Emery’s feelings of inadequacy manifest into a fixation on cleanliness, Domini’s manifest into self neglect. I quite enjoy this foil.

I’ll be thinking on this more. Thank you for reading if you did. I lastly want to mention that I am much normaler than these two and thankfully due to my years of therapy and medication I do take care of myself.

[batz-surveys]

6.

What are some things that you consider a waste of time? Why? Doom scrolling for sure. I had such a problem with it when I first got TikTok because my thinking was, "oh these videos are short, how long could it have been?" Then I look at the clock and like, two hours flew by. I have it better under control because sometimes when I go home, I'll put my phone on the charger in the other room and make myself do other hobbies or chores.

What feeling do you have the most difficult in expressing? Anger. I do not have a cool head at all when it comes to certain things and I tend to explode over little things, especially during the week of and before my period. Like, don't even look at me wrong those weeks.

How do you think you would handle yourself in a crisis situation? I guess it would depend on the crisis. I thought that I was okay in a crisis, but my dad had to have surgery yesterday and I was holding my breath until I could see him after work. The amount of stress I put myself through when he was completely fine during and after the surgery was so unnecessary. But I've always been obsessed with the idea of my parents dying. As a kid, I was convinced if they left me home, and they went out or something, that they would die. It's something I know I have to work on with a therapist, and it's gotten better the older I get, but sheesh. But as far as other things that aren't family related? I think I'd be okay.

How would someone be able to tell if you were happy? I'd probably be smiling. I have a very expressive face.

Are you usually an organized person? Why/why not? Yes, I'm very organized for the most part. In my apartment, it's literally the physical example of the phrase: "A place for everything and everything in it's place." Now as far as my thoughts go…well, I'm organized to make lists to stay on track, haha.

Do you make your bed everyday? Why/why not? I guess I do. Like even if I don't make it in the morning, I'll make it before my nightly shower so I can get into a made bed. I know, it may be a waste of time to some people since I'm literally getting in it later that night, but I just like the feeling of pulling back neatly placed sheets and climbing into a made bed.

If you had the power to shapeshift, what would you turn into first? Why? Probably another human, honestly. Like, I'd totally walk into a billionaire's bank, as that billionaire, and act like I was them and take out a significant amount of money. I'd pay off the debts of everyone I know, help out some homeless people, donate to a bunch of no-kill animal shelters, and buy a home for my husband and myself.

Does any particular season make you happier than others? Why/why not? Fall and Winter! Why? Well, some people get depression in those seasons, but I get seasonal depression in the summer because I'm stuck inside. It's too hot to do anything so I stay inside a lot. I'm a homebody but I still love taking walks with my husband and/or my dog, going on picnics, etc. But I don't do it in the summer because it's just too hot here and the not being outside does something to my mood. Plus Fall = Halloween and that's my all time favorite holiday, not to mention it's also my wedding anniversary!

Do you like to exaggerate things for effect? No, I don't like attention like that.

How often do you cry? What can bring you to tears? Too often and literally almost anything. I think it comes from always being stifled emotionally as a child. Thanks, Mom!

Would you describe yourself as a peace-keeper or a trouble-maker? Peace-Keeper.

Do you give money to homeless people/beggars? Why/why not? I never really have cash on me, so no, but if I did and someone came up to me, I probably would. It's rare that I even have the chance to get asked because I usually just go to work and come straight home.

In what circumstances do you feel most at peace? When it's a nice, breezy, cool Fall day, and the sky is grey, and I can open my windows and listen to the wind and just relax. Maybe I'm reading, or maybe I'm playing video games, or maybe I'm watching a movie. But man, I love that kind of weather and I can't wait for the first cool day of Fall because right now, it's still like 83F+ here.

Do you enjoy hugging people? Do you enjoy receiving hugs? Sure, and yes, I've always been a hugger.

Do you think that luck has much to play in your life? I'm not sure about that. A lot of what I have, I've worked hard for whether it's my nice apartment or my relationships with the people I love. Now, if I won the lottery…then I'd think more about luck playing a part in my life.

Do you think you are interesting or a bore? I'm probably pretty boring to a lot of people, but I think I'm pretty interesting because I know everything that's happened in my life. I share about thirty percent of myself with others willingly. But if someone were to ask the right questions, I'm an open book. The only person who really knows just how interesting I am, is my husband. And my journals, of course, but they're not people.

How would you rate your maturity among your peers? Scale of 1-10? Oh, I think I'm probably a five. I know a lot of things that people in their 30s should know and all that, but I also laugh at farts and say the word "boobies."

What do you feel is your number one flaw? Are you doing anything about it? I'm shy. I am in my thirties and I'm still shy. It's hard for me to talk to people outside of work. I wish it weren't that way.

Do you see yourself as worthy of love? Why/why not? Sure, I've been through the fucking ringer, and I deserve it.

What is your greatest disappointment? Probably something I did. I'm good at being disappointed at myself.

Do you think you are competitive? Do you really dislike losing? Haha, yes, but only when it comes to video games and board games.

On which topics do you feel qualified at giving advice? Love. I've had a lot of different kinds of relationships with a lot of different kinds of people and I ended up with someone incredible.

What is a talent you wish you possessed? I wish I could read music so I can play all kinds of instruments.

What would you be famous for? I'd love to be a published author that was semi-successful. I'm not sure if I wanted to be like, super famous, but to know people were reading my books and enjoying them or talking about them at least, would be pretty cool.

How long does it take until you can’t be alone anymore? Hmm, I'm actually not sure. I love being by myself.

Are you anything like any members of your family? Sure.

Do you tend to be punctual or are you usually late? I'm definitely punctual and I hate waiting on people.

[beautifult999]

I woke up I guess. I’m just laying in bed tired. If I’m through withdrawal, why am I feeling like this? I’m almost two years clean and sober. And being on my antipsychotics and mood stabilizers are so sedating and cause such depression in me that it’s not only emotionally painful, but also physically painful. I don’t know how I don’t kill myself sometimes. Like, I go weeks without showering and it’s very very difficult just to get out of bed. I’m in bed most of my existence. But hey, I can’t self medicate any more or my family will disown me because they judge me. I know what I could do to solve this, but I know it’s not an option any more.

[timeoverload]

Today was the worst day at work that I've had in years. I was there almost 12 hours. I got a 10 minute break for breakfast and 20 minutes for lunch. There were 5 add-on eye cases on top of an already busy schedule. I busted my ass all day. The surgeries weren't even done when I left. They weren't scheduled to be done until at least 8pm. Luckily my co-worker offered to finish out the day for me because she had to stay late anyway so I'm grateful for that. The cut off time for add-ons is supposed to be 5pm but I guess that doesn't matter anymore.

The eye coordinator was in a really bad mood. I understand why because I was also in a bad mood but she didn't have to take out her frustration on me. She yelled at me because I left 2 clamps out of a pan. I try to check things thoroughly but I'm only human and I fuck up sometimes. I'm so embarrassed. I process hundreds of pans a month and I rarely make mistakes. I was already upset about it but she made me feel a million times worse. I feel terrible because the doctor needed them and there weren't any peel packed so she had to find something else to use. She gave me the nastiest look when she saw me leaving. We had been getting along better but I'm assuming she's going to start acting really petty towards me again because of that. It's so fucking stupid and no one else gets that mad at me about that stuff. I am going to apologize to her again tomorrow and tell her I will try harder to slow down to check my pans to make sure everything is there. I'm not trying to make anyone's day more difficult. I always try my best to help out the surgical techs to make their days easier but it's never good enough. I want to give up and I don't know why I bother trying anymore.

My back is killing me even though I wore my brace all day but that doesn't surprise me anymore. My ankles are so swollen and I have bruises from my socks. I'm so dizzy and my head hurts. I know I should probably take a shower and eat but I don't want to do either of those things. I'm not even hungry so at least I ate earlier. Maybe I will eat a snack later or something. I'm too tired and I don't care right now.

I don't want to go back tomorrow at all but I don't have a choice. I have to keep doing it even if it's killing me. I don't have eye cases in the morning so I will be in decontam for 2 hours so I'm not excited for that. I have some cases in the afternoon so I really hope I don't have to stay as late and I'm going to be pissed if I do.

I really don't want to go to that party this weekend now. I know I'm not going to feel good at all. Also, that creepy guy in my department is going and he was asking me if I was going to be there and I said that I didn't know. He was asking me what kind of alcohol I like because he was planning on bringing some. He was talking about how he wanted to make his "special" lemonade. That sounds sketchy to me. I wouldn't want to drink anything that he makes and I don't trust him as it is. I don't think I would have much fun anyway so I'm probably just going to stay home. I don't want to put myself in an uncomfortable situation. I'm not going to say anything to anyone about it right now so I don't disappoint anyone.

I also went out to the back hallway to get a drink and noticed my co-worker had some tarot card stickers on her water bottle. One of them is almost identical to that photo of that tattoo you posted on Sunday. I thought that was kind of eerie.

Also, the 3 of swords tarot card is relevant to my situation. I have been feeling very sad and disappointed about our relationship for a long time. I just want us all to be a family and I don't want to be separated anymore. It has been very traumatic and confusing for me because I don't understand what the problem is. It's truly breaking my heart and I am very depressed.

I have driven so many miles and have probably spent at least a couple thousand dollars to try to prove how much I care about you. I have been so loyal and I can't see myself wanting to be with anyone else but you. I never want to be with anyone else.

I have done my best to be open and honest with you about everything. You have encouraged me to be better. I have grown a lot as a person and I'm trying to be the best person that I can be. I have worked so hard and I will continue working on myself.

I love your art so much and I'm so proud that I get to carry it with me wherever I go for the rest of my life. You are so talented. It's not about the tattoos though... I just really enjoy spending time with you and you make me so happy. It sucks that we can't spend time together when I'm not getting tattooed. No one else has ever made me as happy as you make me. I always look forward to seeing you. You are my perfect match. I am literally obsessed with you. I think you are so handsome and you always look good to me. You will always be my favorite person. I am so grateful for our special connection and it is such a blessing.

I wish you could come see me somehow because I miss you every day. I'm constantly reminded of you everywhere I go. Although I don't mention it, I see you in my dreams often. I have had dreams about you for years, even before we met.

I'm not doing very well at all and I'm so tired and sick. I'm trying so hard to keep moving and stay strong but I'm scared I am going to die. I feel like I'm not going to make it. I'm afraid that one of these days my body is going to give out on me and I'm just not going to wake up in the morning. I don't want that to happen and I'm terrified. This is serious and I don't want to die alone without you. I need you to be here now. I want to hug you.

I don't know what I'm doing wrong and it's killing me. What do I need to do? How many times do I have to try to come see you before you believe me? How long do I have to wait for us to finally be together? What is getting in the way? I have so many questions and I just want to understand. I'm so discouraged but I'm trying not to let it get to me.

I'm so tired and it's very difficult for me to articulate my feelings right now. I just want you to know how important you are to me. You have made such a positive impact on my life. I'm so thankful that I know you.

Maxwell, I would do anything for you and I'm not giving up. I really hope that we can overcome whatever obstacle is in the way so that we can finally be together. I will love you forever no matter what.

💖💖💖💖💖💖

I can't think straight anymore so I need to get ready for bed soon. I stayed up way too late last night. I am so exhausted and I'm struggling to keep my eyes open right now. I'm not sure how much time I will be able to spend on the internet this week. I don't want anyone to think that I am ignoring them. I'm going through a lot right now but I will do my best to stay positive and continue to work hard. I'm glad that I get to vent on here because it makes me feel a lot better. Thank you again to everyone that checks on me and listens to me. I appreciate you all. I hope you all have a good night and enjoy the rest of your week.

[mahaliaaa]

Since the pandemic began, I have been constantly on my phone. I've developed the habit of checking my phone as soon as I wake up every morning. My hand will touch it the first thing when I wake up and the last thing before I go to sleep. It is the only thing that matters to me. I need it to survive in the pandemic; otherwise, I'll pass away from boredom and loneliness.

Although that might sound exaggerated, it is accurate. In a pandemic, our phone becomes our only source of communication. I'll pick up my phone when I'm feeling lonely, message my pals, and talk about anything that comes to mind, sometimes even going off on a rant about how Covid 19 affects so many of our lives. I usually blame Covid 19 when there are minor inconveniences, claiming that it is to blame for what happened. I'll get my phone and open TikTok or play games when I'm bored. I scrolled for almost the entire day, laughed at weird things I found online, and played games.

I tried engaging in indoor activities like painting, cooking, crocheting, and drawing to divert my attention away from technology, but I find it hard to resist checking my phone constantly. So I spend all of my time on my couch playing games, watching korean dramas, movies, and browsing through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Tiktok. I'll eventually just leave my room to grab some food and perhaps take a shower. When my mother needs to ask me a question, she just texts me, and my siblings do the same. Since we are constantly occupied with our gadgets because we are unable to leave the house for work, we rarely have face-to-face conversations even within our own home.

No one is allowed to leave during a pandemic. We are completely under lockdown due to the virus's propagation. We are unable to socialize with our friends outside or visit them. It's a good thing we have phones and other technologies since it allows us to contact people without having to go out. It is currently the most practical approach to interact with people and disseminate the information we require for daily life.

Being stuck at home is often challenging and, for some, sad. We all need to socialize in order to live. We usually find being alone depressing. Personally, I enjoy spending time with my friends since it makes me feel happy. I find that having company greatly improves my mood. Additionally, talking to someone helps me feel lighter and reduces a lot of tension. There is a day in my life when we are still in quarantine and I am feeling particularly sluggish for no apparent reason. Knowing that you are alone worsens the unexplained emotion I'm experiencing. I can't help it; I find myself thinking a lot of negative thoughts. Fortunately, when I called one of my friends, she picked up. Even though I know she won't be able to comprehend what I'm saying, simply having her there to listen to me makes me feel a lot better.

Especially during a pandemic, technology saved my life. I use technology to stay away from difficult or unpleasant feelings, which were in abundance during the COVID-19 pandemic. I used screens to communicate safely with my loved ones and friends. Even communicating digitally with them lifts my spirits. In these circumstances, having someone to chat to can truly help a person feel less alone. 

Studies have indicated that being in touch with loved ones via technology, particularly social media and other messaging services, enhances mental and emotional health, particularly during tough situations. Teenagers' ability to handle a challenging crisis, particularly how they used technology to fortify their resistance, is impressive. However, equity also plays a role in resilience since teens who receive a lot of support from their families and other sources are better able to deal with the pandemic. Children may spend less time with their families the more time they spend in front of screens. While staying connected is helpful, in-person contact with people can help young people build valuable interpersonal skills.

Young and older children alike may become socially isolated as a result of increased technology use, which could have a negative effect on how well they learn to interact with others.Teenagers, including myself, are constantly using their phones for texting, sharing, trolling, scrolling, and other activities. We frequently talked on the phone rather than in person. Teenagers today are being taught, among other things, to communicate primarily through screens rather than with actual people.

The pandemic has a massive effect on how we communicate with one another. We learned a lot of new, simpler, and more open ways to communicate. Like how we can now contact friends and family who live far away using social media, instant messaging, or video chat. Despite the fact that it improves communication, it has an impact on our social or communication abilities. Many of us will grow up to be individuals who are afraid of talking, our society's fundamental form of communication, since we don't receive enough practice relating to people and meeting their needs in person and in real time.

We have to exercise social distance because of the pandemic, so when we have to resume normal activities and have face-to-face interactions, it feels unusual. I am so accustomed to speaking to a screen that I find it impossible to make eye contact when speaking to someone. Additionally, because it has been a while since I spoke to someone face-to-face, I occasionally stutter when I speak. Speaking with someone face-to-face is significantly different from doing so via a screen.

By seeing the other person's expressions, I can determine their response to or level of interest in what I am saying and adjust what I say. Because I frequently employ sarcasm in casual conversation, I have offended a number of individuals online. I am usually unaware that I have offended someone until they block me. On the other side, speaking online gives you the opportunity to carefully construct your arguments and omit any that come out as boring.

Since we are still getting used to this new normal, it is acceptable to have a difficult conversation when using traditional ways of communicating. Many people encounter this type of difficulty. You should put yourself in the best position to overcome the difficulties and practice a one-on-one conversation by becoming knowledgeable of them.

We are starting to replace actual human interaction in communication with online chatting and texting. Calls, emails, instant messages, and social media are all used. Even while some people don't mind and even prefer not to see the other person when speaking, they frequently lose the ability to have face-to-face conversations. We are now more likely to interact directly in person since things are slowly getting back to normal and everyone is now able to go out. It could be difficult for us to get used to it once more, but things will always  get better.

[stonesandswords]

may my moving out posts not be forever annoying but omg

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, don’t kill me because of the ending, sebastian and reader are the definition of right person wrong time, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, also this part has some funny moments but overall it’s a big SOB

part: 6/6 (there will also be an epilogue)

(other parts)   (masterlist)

This is how it ends: broken hearts from crashed dreams.

Sebastian holds you until his muscles ache and your lungs burn from the feeling of too little oxygen. It is cold and dark, almost midnight, too dark, a starless night.

No more stars for you and I.

“Here,” Voice hoarse, eyes heavy-lid and itching from almost crying. He gives you one of the rings he wore in the movie. “I want you to keep this.”

Keep it close to your heart. Forget me not.

He takes a breath and a step back, tries to regain all the strength he still has, steady feet and shoulders fixed. He digs his nails into his palms, red marks in his skin, air catching in his throat, he’s on the verge of falling but he stays standing.

He remembers tears glistening down his cheeks, maybe they were yours not his, and the cold autumn wind hitting his face and he remembers feeling like he’s dying.

And then he closes the door of Argyris’ car and looks at you.

And his heart stretches and stretches and stretches and then somehow splits in half.

/

It goes like this:

There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment from now on. In the living room. Sitting on the couch. And it has steel blue eyes and a familiar heart. And it whispers a love story, half-finished, and you cannot make it stop.

The ghost touches your collarbone and he’s gone but there’s a ring in a golden chain around your neck and a white shirt forgotten in your laundry. And it smells like him. The clinging scent of his aftershave sticking to your pores. Eucalyptus. And no matter how hard you try to wash it off, it still lingers.

How could I ever forget someone like you?

The ghost lives here, but the place is empty, so empty. And it’s hard not to cry.

/

Sebastian calls and texts a lot.

He tells you he’s tired but excited because he started filming a new movie. It’s very indie and experimental, I can’t wait for you to see it. He tells you he’s missing his days in Greece like hell and that one night he dreamt of you. Didn’t want to wake up. What he doesn’t tell you is that he’s coming back in a month, Argyris needs him for some extra scenes. It’s nearly killing him but he doesn’t tell you. He wants to surprise you, see the pure light in your eyes when they’ll meet his.

/

You try sexting. It doesn’t go very well.

23:50, sebastian: if you were here in my bed right now what would you be doing

06:51, you: probably falling asleep hahaha

06:51, you: oh fuck was i supposed to sext back

06:51, you: sorry seb i just woke up and i have a class in an hour, love you <3

23:52, sebastian: fuck timezones

/

(three weeks and 10 seconds later)

“I can’t believe she doesn’t know you’re here,” Argyris shakes his head as he’s driving home from the airport, “If I were her, I’d kill you.”

“Good thing I didn’t fall in love with you.”

Sebastian laughs and looks out of the car window. The stars. There are so many stars tonight. He holds his breath; he’s finally feeling whole again. His heart isn’t split in two anymore.

/

You don’t know how long you stand there at your door, staring at him, but it feels like a century before he grins, almost laughs, takes your hands in his and you start considering that perhaps this isn’t a hallucination. Perhaps it’s real.

“Surprise?”

Something inside of you bursts, your organs twitch. You can’t think, you can’t speak, but you can move. You don’t lose any more time, you take a step forward, attach your bodies, your face buried in his neck, your fingers clutching into the rough fabric of his jacket. You breathe him in like an antidote.

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

You kiss him and it’s like poetry, like art, like honey and you can’t separate yourself from him, not even hours later.

/

(looking back, these were the golden days)

You pretending to be mad at him for not telling you he was coming back and him pressing his lips on your skin, drawing patterns on your naked shoulder. A feathery touch.

Sebastian always touches you like you’re something made of gold and porcelain, something cherished that constantly needs to be treasured. And nobody has done that before. And you love him for it.

You try to decorate your Christmas tree together. He messes with the lights for a while, eventually gives up and goes on to eat too many reindeer shaped cookies.

He massages your muscles when you write a boring essay for college.

You go with him when he has to shoot a “driving a motorcycle naked in the centre of Athens” scene and you bite the inside of your cheeks to stop smiling like an idiot.

He gives you a dress he bought for you in New York.  

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

He calls you sweetheart in the mornings, still half asleep and later joins you in the shower.

“Why are you so hot?”

“Climate change”

“Oh, shut up”

It’s tender and it’s soft and it’s human.

And that’s the saddest part.

/

Soon you realize that him leaving two months ago was merely a rehearsal and you still haven’t said your actual goodbyes. Your chest starts to feel as if it’s full of crushed glass.

And it’s ridiculous because you fell in love with Sebastian sometime between the first ten days you spent together.

Who falls in love in ten days?  

Ridiculous or not, you know you are in love with him just as you know that sooner or later, whatever he is feeling will fade and wither. Maybe it’ll be in a week, maybe it’ll be in a month, maybe in a year if you’re lucky. But there will definitely come a day when he will step out of a gala or a party or a fancy gym in New York with a beautiful model in his arms and two paparazzi’s following him around.

What will you be then?

A past small cameo in his life. A side character. Will he remember your name?

He is your whole world.

(a bottle of cheap prosecco helps you decide that)

He is your whole world.

And yet, there will come a day when he won’t even remember your name.

/

It was difficult. No, it was the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. Telling him how you think it’d be better if you didn’t talk after he leaves.

“I don’t agree with this.”

“Seb, it’s for the best.”

Your body doesn’t feel strong enough to carry your heart. And you’re certain it will only get worse once he’s away. The world around you will melt. You’ll obsess over a phone screen and his messages. You’ll start chasing ghosts again. You can’t handle that.

“Why?” He says urgently and his fingers dance over the flesh of your palms.

“Because this”, you motion your hand between the two of you, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had in my life and I don’t want it to become ugly.”

He nods, he understands.

“I love you, you know,” he says smiling and tugs you closer to him, “And I may not be here to show you but I think I’ll love you for a long time.”

Your hand grips his waist right to the bones and something flares in your eyes, something wild that wrenches you around.

“I know, I’ll love you the same.”

“Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“Only if I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.”

He laughs and you look at him, fully aware he’ll be ripped out of your life like a page from a cheap leather notebook. And when you kiss for the last time, there’s a hole forming in your soul.

And just because endings don’t leave visible scars to one’s body and soul, that doesn’t mean the scars don’t exist. You know they do, because you feel the aching pain of every single one of them.

/

(every night when you close your eyes you see him)

(every night you look at the stars and think of him)

/

A month passes and Argyris asks you if you miss him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“He said the exact same thing.”

You tell him not to mention Sebastian again.

Two months pass and you need to stop stalking his instagram profile.

Three months pass and you almost text him.

Four months pass and you go to watch Endgame with some friends and you cry. You cry when Black Widow sacrifices herself and when Iron Man smiles at his wife while dying, and when Bucky Barnes appears on screen.

The others don’t understand and you don’t blame them.

Five months pass and Argyris’ girlfriend wants you to meet someone. A charming boy your age with blonde hair and a lip piercing.

And he's cute but you compare him to Sebastian even before he has the chance to say his name. His eyes are not the right shade of blue and he doesn’t look at you like you’re made of the world’s finest jewel.

And he doesn’t know any constellation names.

And then more than a year passes in a second and you learn to not look for him. Not anymore.

/

It’s early March 2020 and despite the rising fear of the upcoming pandemic, you’re doing well. Scars are starting to fade. And after spending two weeks in Prague, your best friend being there with an exchange program, Sebastian Stan is the farthest thing from your mind.

Until he literally comes crashing into you. At the airport.

No, it can’t be him.

You have your suitcase on one hand and a bottle of antiseptic gel on the other. He has two bodyguards on his sides and a black hoodie on.  And while half of his face is hidden behind a mask, you can see his eyes perfectly. A frozen lake in December. You would know those eyes in your deathbed, at the end of the world.

Your vision gets blurry and suddenly you feel cold.

He won’t recognize me, he can’t.

But then he looks at you and every memory you had buried inside of you resurfaces.

He motions to his guards to wait for him and he starts walking towards you. You breathe slowly, one breath at a time. He takes his mask off and you hesitate to take yours, not sure if you truly want him to see you.

You exchange the typical and very awkward hi, how are you, i’m glad you’re doing okay and then he smiles and it feels comfortable. Familiar.

It’s the whiff of another time that you always kept around. A reminder that you were once loved by a god.

“What are you doing here?”

“Filming Falcon and the Winter Soldier”

If you hadn’t unfollowed him on instagram, you’d known.

“Ah yes I heard about that, congrats.”

He nods a thank you.

“And you? In Prague?”

“I was at a friend.”

He looks conflicted, hurt, turns his gaze to his shoes on the grey cement. You want to say something, but you feel like throwing up.

And then he laughs.

“I was right.”

You’re confused, he notices.

“Back in Greece,” he swallows, “I told you this would happen.”

“It would have been an airport, different gates for each of us, but same waiting hall. Or a Greek island, where we’d both be for the summer.”

“I would have found you.”

You remember and you cannot help but smile. He was right. He found you.

“I didn’t believe you then.”

I barely believe you now.

He touches your hair. And his touch is like a knife. And you want to cry. Magnolias under your tongue. A love long lost is whispering in your ears until it hurts to listen. He’s like a magnetic field and you feel yourself drowning in him.

“I bet they’ll ask me a hundred questions about you later.” He says and looks at the two men waiting for him.

“And what will you tell them?”

“That you’re most probably the love of my life.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“There’s no way we’d meet here if you’re not.”

“Sebastian,” His name sounds like a prayer coming out of your lips and you're ready to tell him you love him and you can swear he looks like he’s ready to faint, “I-”

The guards yell his name. And it's the same feeling people have just before a car crash.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

One last look.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

You repeat it over and over again. But you fail.

“No, don't cry” He smiles, one last smile, “Just look at the stars and wait for us to meet again, because we will.”

He caresses the back of your palm for a second and you think your ribcage is shattering but it’s only your heart drumming frantically. Pushing your fragile bones to break. 

You want to stop him, wrap your arms around his torso, never let him go. Not again. But you don’t.

You just watch him leave, one more time, your knees weak, your head heavy and dizzy. For the split of a moment he turns and glances at you but then he’s nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps it was all in your imagination. Perhaps it was nothing but a wonder.

You get into your plane and you silently sob.

/

And then it’s summer.

And you overhear he was seen with a girl, the day before your vacation starts and you find a picture of them together a week later, a pretty blonde girl clinging to his side with a colorful bikini somewhere in Spain. And he’s smiling. And you feel so ashamed. And so stupid.

They say time heals all wounds but they must be wrong because you can’t forget how he used to smile at you or how he used to call you the love of his life.

Was he joking when he said you'll meet again? You bet if you asked him now, he wouldn't even remember saying it.

I’ll love you for a long time.

So long for nothing.

/

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :) also i’m really sorry if you asked me to tag you and i didn’t  but i lost a lot of asks and the urls of the people that sent them :( 

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree @sara-1705 @dorothea-hwldr @freshfreakoaftrash @drinkfantasy @christinamcdonnell ​@partypoison00 ​ @90ssantiago

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Learn to Fly

CW: Self-loathing, some internalized victim-blaming, references to parental death and grief, VERY vague reference to past noncon once or twice

Note: I made a decision to switch a little of the timeline around, so Laken and Chris’s breakup at this point happens after the original conversations about the Speak Out Arc start happening but before the Olympics themselves. I’m folding this bit into the larger Speak Out Arc.

Follows Time Apart and It Doesn’t Work As Well As You’d Hoped

-

He curls up on the couch in the coffeeshop, sipping something warm he barely tastes. It might have coffee in it - he feels a little drowsy, and that usually happens when there’s just a little caffeine.

Maybe that’s just because he hasn’t slept since Jake was hurt, not really. And he’s slept even less since... since he and Laken broke up.

Outside, there's unseasonable heavy rain. The clouds are low and heavy, a deep gunmetal gray that blocks out the light and has the streetlights on at 9:30 in the morning. The raindrops seem less to fall than to slam into the ground with terrible violence. 

The baristas talk in low voices about how grateful they are for the rain, burying the wildfires outside the city in a deluge the heat can’t overcome. Chris likes the rain, too, if only because it reflects the inside of him, suggests that the world can tell he is a storm within himself and reflects it to him.

He takes another sip.

He hasn’t showered in three days. His hair is dulled with it, like a penny left too long in the dirt.  He’s dressed himself like he used to, back before when he was still learning he was a person and not a pet - in one of Jake’s hooded sweatshirts over his compression shirt, so oversized on him it’s nearly a tunic, and a pair of mesh basketball shorts. His knees still look knobby, he thinks.

He can see the ghosts of the bruises there that used to never quite heal before his Sir sent him to his knees and made new ones to lay over them. He can see a couple of scars, some from training when the baton would crack into the backs of his legs and send him dropping like a stone, some from gymnastics, some from just being a kid.

Chris’s eyes lower, to look at his own hands holding his coffee cup. He put star stickers on his nails last night, and a few of them have already peeled off. Those that remain glitter, just a little. 

Something about the sight of it - the memory of when he put star stickers on Laken’s cheekbones at a concert until they sparkled under the starlight, laughing, a blur of bright eyes and dark hair - makes his throat nearly close, sends a new rush of tears to burn hot behind his eyes.

He has to close them to hold them back.

“You’ve had a hard time of late, have you, then?”

The voice is a rumble, cracked with decades of cigarettes and too much liquor, but Chris remembers it, anyway. At least, he remembers it now.

He turns to look up at the old man, in his shirt and slacks, a bit bent with age. There’s a merry twinkle in his slightly rheumy eyes, though, that shows that a young man is still there, under an old man’s experiences. There’s a slight smile on his face, warm and welcoming. 

Chris swallows, struggling to find the words. They flit away from him, he has to chase them down, but eventually he manages to clear his throat and says, “I, I, um. I know you. You, you, you knew my dad.”

“I did, at that. Worked with him for years.” The old man settles onto the other end of the couch, giving Chris plenty of space, a nice wide berth for safety. “What’s got you looking like a television commercial for depression, hm, Tristan?”

No one calls him that. 

Chris feels his heart twist, a little. 

By the time they saw the meteor, Tris, it was already too late for anything but a blink or two. When it touched down into land, it was so big the end of it was still in space. Can you imagine anything so big? Can you?

No, Dad.

 The earthquakes alone would have been immense thousands of miles away. Imagine, you’re eating leaves, living your life, and you see a shadow - and then in an instant, the world is shaking and you’re breathing glass. How does life go on after that?

I, I, I don’t know, um, um... how how does it?

It just does. That’s what’s amazing, Tris. It just goes on.

“Nothing. I, I, I broke up with my, my partner is all.”

“Hm, that nice young person who comes with you to the shops?” The old man nods, slowly. He’s got his own cup of coffee, plain black, steaming gently into the air-conditioning. Outside, the rain creates a curtain that walls them off from everything else. Chris can’t even see all the way across the street. He can barely see a woman with an umbrella racing from her car into the nail salon place off to the side. 

“Yeah, them. I’m, um. It wasn’t anything they they they did.”

It’s something I did.

It’s something I am.

It’s something I’ll never stop being.

“Well, breakups do happen now and again. Usually the one who does the leaving isn’t the one who does the moping about and staring at rain, though.”

“I didn’t want to.” Chris sits back, keeping his coffee cup in one hand. The other drops to his stomach, to tap, soothing his nerves at being so close to a man he knows and doesn’t-know. His memories are there, fuzzy and hazy from being overwritten by fear and pain, but they’re there. He knows this man, Mr. Malley, who would watch him sometimes when his parents went out, or when his father needed to stop by work.

The memories are there, but they still hurt. 

His head starts to throb, a pulsing pain behind his temples. 

“I didn’t-... I, I love them, I d-didn’t want to.”

“Well, now, that’s a conundrum, isn’t it? Are you moving, then, Tristan?”

It hurts to hear his name, but it hurts in a way that feels good. He was that person, too, before he was Chris. He hums, low under his breath. “No. I, I, I just… you know, um, I’m just. I’m… hard. Difficult. To, to, to, to be with, to, um, to-... there’s a bunch wrong with-... with me.”

“You sound like your dad.” Mr. Malley laughs, a deep chuckle that rumbles more in his chest than out of his throat. “You know that? You sound just like him.”

Chris ignores the pain in his head and he turns, now, to look fully at Mr. Malley, blinking rapidly. “My, my, my dad?”

“Yep. Paul was a good man, and a good dad, but before he was that he was a scared boy with a baby on the way and a plan that might not work.” Mr. Malley sighs. “A scared boy who’d always had it a little rough, trying to make the world work for him when it did nothing but work against him. You were always his spitting image. He’d probably be tickled to see you still are.”

There is a sense, in Chris’s mind, of a blurry man with short red hair, sitting near him but not quite touching him, speaking with animation about how there are dinosaurs that lived closer to human beings than they did to other dinosaurs.

He remembers a man whose eyes sparkled with animated focus when he talked about the world millions of years ago, who loved him by sharing the information he held within his own mind.

He and his dad had understood each other, in ways that no one else did but his mother, and Chris was beginning to see that it had been her determination to know him that had fueled his mother’s actions, her endless support. The same way Jake and Nat were determined, and stubborn, and kept trying even when they got it wrong. 

Everyone gets it wrong sometimes, but that doesn’t… that doesn’t mean they aren’t trying. 

Maybe he got it wrong.

“He never broke up with your mom, but oh, he thought about it. You know, when he came to work with us, he had a plan. But plans… they have a way of going off the road and into a ditch. He worried he couldn’t make it work, he worried that it would be too hard for Ronnie to be with him and have a child, too.”

Ronnie.

Chris’s throat closes up, and he closes his eyes. 

All right, Tris, I got you these so the noise won’t bother you so much. We’re going to have a good day at the parade, okay?

“Her family never liked him, for one. That’s a rough spot to be in, I think.” Mr. Malley is quiet for a moment, sipping his coffee and watching the rain fall. “Ronnie didn’t see it that way, of course. That woman was a freight train and God help anyone who got in the way. My late wife, God rest her soul, helped Ronnie with some things when her own family wouldn’t. She’d come over big as a house, eyes sparkling. You were a kicker, she used to say, kept her up all hours of the night. Just a girl, still, your mom, but she had a steel spine and she wasn’t going to live any life but the one she wanted. But your dad… he worried, that it would be too hard on her.”

“Having, um, having me would?”

“No. Having him. Paul was a smart man, you know. He knew his job would be trouble. He gave her chance after chance to go, if she wanted. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? She didn’t.”

Chris looks at his phone, lying on the little table in front of the couch. There’s some text messages he hasn’t looked at. Couple of voicemails he hasn’t listened to. 

“Maybe he, he, he didn’t want to keep hurting her,” Chris whispers. 

“Hurt’s a part of living, lad, take it from someone who’s given out his fair share of it and more.” Mr. Malley hums. Outside, a car pulls up, almost bumping the curb. “Perhaps you’re meant to separate from your young partner, Tristan, perhaps not. It’s like I told your dad, way back in the Stone Age. You choose if you love someone, to be sure, but they choose if they love you back. You can’t decide that for them.”

“But, but I’m-... but, but I’ve been… what I am, it’s-”

“I know what you’ve been made to do,” Mr. Malley says gently. “You don’t have to explain, lad. We knew.”

Chris’s lips tremble. He doesn’t want his coffee any longer. He sets it down next to his phone, on the little table. The baristas talk quietly about a date that one went on the night before, there’s a low sound of machinery. It all filters into Chris’s mind, a cacophony of sound he picks apart or doesn’t. Right now it’s hard for him to think around all the sound, but he tries. “Then, then, then why… if you knew, um, why… didn’t you-”

He can’t finish the question. 

Why didn’t you save me from it?

“We couldn’t. It’s shite, is what it is, but we couldn’t. And by the time we could, you were with that nice young man who you live with now. I’m sorry for the time you lost, Tristan, and sorrier still I can’t give it back to you somehow. You’re your dad’s child through and through, but you’ve got your mother in you, too. You know what Ronnie did when there was something she couldn’t get through?”

Chris turns to look at this man, who knew his mother and father in ways he never could have. He swallows. “What?”

“She went over it. Or around it. Or blew it to smithereens and went through the wreckage. Whatever it took. They tried to kick you out of school when you were a wean, she fought them ‘til they realized they’d never win against her. They tried to tell her you wouldn’t read, she told them to go, well, to go sit on a thing or two and not to tell her what her boy could or couldn’t do.”

Chris thinks of Nat sitting next to him on the floor, patiently encouraging him to keep trying to turn the letters into words, despite his headaches, his tears, his certainty he’d never get reading back.

You will, Chris. I know you will. Just keep fighting for it. They won’t take anything from you forever, I won’t let them and you won’t let them either.

Don’t let them keep you from yourself.

“They told her she’d never have a happy life, having a wee one so young, but she built that happy life anyway with her own two hands and dared anyone to try and knock it down.”

“Someone… some, someone did, though.” The gunshots, his mother’s eyes going dull and blank, her whispered I love you so much, Tris…

“Sure. Yes.” Mr. Malley’s expression goes serious, and sad. “But it took breaking into her house at midnight and bullets to stop her. You’ve got plenty of your mom in you, lad. Plenty of your dad, too, he was always a stubborn git himself. Do you love this person you’ve broken up with? Hm?”

“Yes.” The answer comes without hesitation, even though his voice shakes and his heart races. “I, I, I do. That’s, that’s why I don’t want to-to keep hurting them by, by, by by being messed up from what, um, from what happened to me, I don’t… I don’t want to keep h-hurting them-”

“Let them decide how they feel about that,” Mr. Malley says, voice gentle and low. “Plenty of people are hurt and find their way forward together after.”

Jake and Kauri, laughing in the kitchen as Jake spins Kauri around in a circle, dips him backwards, presses a kiss to his nose that has him giggling. 

Antoni at the stove, sighing but with a smile on his face, watching them. Being pulled into the hug not quite against his will, all three of them laughing then. Kauri bright and sparkling, Jake a deeper harmony, Antoni soft and genuine. 

“Maybe it won’t last, maybe it will - but don’t let a hard past keep you from the people who love you. I’ve seen many ruined by believing you may only be loved if you’ve no pain inside you. We’ve all got pain, lad. Carrying it together’s a sight easier than trying to go it alone.”

From the car parked right outside, an elderly man unfolds himself, opening an umbrella to shield from the driving rain. Mr. Malley looks up and smiles. “Ah, right on time, must be ten sharp. That’ll be Cilly. D’you remember Cilly, lad?”

Chris looks as the man shuffles his way inside, pushing open the door. The little bell over the top jingles and the baristas cut off their conversation, standing up straight to call out a familiar greeting to a regular customer. 

He squints.

“Not… not very well,” He confesses, a little ashamed.

“Ah, well, that’s not a problem. He and I’ve known each other a long time. I was an angry man for a while after my wife died, you know. Seemed a crime that I should outlive her, when Christa deserved to live to a hundred and six if she so wished. Cilly helped me carry that anger when I needed to be angry, and he helped me put it down later on.” 

He gives a wave to the man - to Cilly - who looks at Chris and then back to Mr. Malley with clear surprise, then heads towards the counter to make his own order. 

“Be angry, Tristan,” Mr. Malley says, a little heavily, leaning over to him on the leg as he pushes himself, with a grunt of effort to his feet. “You may need your anger, in the days ahead. But if you’ve a love to help you carry it, who wants to help you carry it and who will be angry right there with you, and you love them back… well… don’t let the wickedness of others keep you from the happiness you could have. You’ll be a poorer person for it.”

Mr. Malley walks away without another word, leaving Chris by himself again on the couch, tapping at his stomach, thinking. He keeps looking at his phone, thinking about all the texts he hasn’t read, the way he’s refused to call them back when Laken kept trying to reach him.

He leans over to reach out.

He stops, hand hovering just above the plastic with its colorful case, the sensory sticker on the back of it that Laken had bought him. 

What happened after all the dinosaurs died, Tristan?

I, I, I don’t know, Dad.

Trick question, buddy. They didn’t. Paul’s eyes, bright and vibrant, gesturing to a bird in a tree nearby. Nothing stays the same and lives forever except alligators and sharks.

Right because, because they’re perfect.

Exactly. Dinosaurs died, sure, but they didn’t die, too. They just changed to suit the world after the one they knew how to live in was gone. Imagine, Tris. 

Imagine what?

Imagine the world destroyed and in darkness, buried in ash. Everything you know is gone, ruined, wrecked beyond repair. And imagine… imagine that you learn to eat seeds and little mice instead of big animals and leaves. Imagine you become smaller and smaller. Imagine that your arms turn to wings, that your bones hollow out to carry you higher above the piles of ash that turn to grass and to life again.

What? I, I, I don’t, um, I don’t understand-... Dad, um, I don’t, I don’t... know what you mean.

Right, sorry. Just... imagine you’re a dinosaur.

He’d laughed. Okay.

Now imagine your dinosaur family is gone, and you have to become something else. What do you become? Being a dinosaur means dying, right?

Um. Right.

So imagine that you look at death and say, no thanks. No, you’re not going to be over. This isn’t it for you. Even a meteor the size of the entire sky can’t end you. Instead of dying out, no, you look at history, at geological time, and you say…

Paul had trailed off.

Say what? What, what do I say?

Don’t tell your mom but-... you look at the end of the world and you say... fuck this, I’m going to learn to fly.

Chris picks up his phone, finds Laken’s name and photo in his contacts. It’s a photo of the two of them together, Chris and Laken smiling and laughing as he smears whipped cream on their nose and they smear a cross of fluffy white into his forehead. 

He dials.

They pick up on the third ring.

“Chris? Oh my God, Chris, are you okay? Are you-... are you okay, baby?” Their voice shakes, and he closes his eyes. 

This time, he lets the tears slip out and run down his face. “H-Hey, Laken, um, I, I, I-... I’m… I wondered if you, um, if you could, uh… are you busy?”

“Am I-... Chris, where are you?”

“The, um, the coffeeshop-”

“I’m on my way. Don’t you dare fucking move.”

At their usual table, at their usual time, Cilly and Sean Malley start to talk amicably about the week ahead. But he keeps an eye on Paul’s boy, where he speaks a few sentences and then hangs up the phone, looking out the window at the rain.

It’s twenty minutes before a new car pulls up outside, and umbrella-less, the partner Sean has seen with Tristan before comes racing inside, a blur of black clothes and black hair and brown skin. Paul’s boy stands, and his partner throws themself at him so hard the two of them fall backwards onto the couch.

They start laughing, and shortly after to cry. 

Their hands come up to either side of Tristan’s face, and they lean forward to kiss the scar on his forehead. He can’t hear what they say to each other, but he doesn’t need to. 

Ronnie, he thinks, would like this spitfire person that Paul’s boy is so in love with. 

That’s one wrong put right, at least for the moment.

One more to go.

Sean smiles and sips his cooling coffee.

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

Just Go On from Kimmy Schmidt