#like my boy's eyes are dead cause of the heartbreak but still

[blakbonnet]

it's his lil excited nose scrunch from the lighthouse fuckery 🥹

[whiskeyskin]

Easy

Premise: During their first night together, Astarion muses how disgustingly easy this seduction will be.. right? Right..? 👀😬

• Astarion x f!Tav • M rating •

Astarion!POV, dissociation, mutual handjobs, bloodplay, improper use of tadpoles, confused erections, guilt, loathing.

I'm unable to find the person responsible for this heartbreaking picture of our boy, please tag if you recognise it as yours 💜 Gatta credit the Artists!

•°•°•

This is almost too easy, Astarion thought to himself as he leaned in to kiss her.

His mind had automatically retreated into himself the moment he scented her presence, reversed into the well practised charade he'd played for tens of decades.

She was the perfect prey.

She was a bleeding heart. A filthy do-gooder. Thank the gods she couldn't see him rolling his eyes every time she stopped for a stranger.

Well, apart from when she'd stopped for him..

He picked her up and felt himself press her against the tree, continuing to kiss her. She wrapped her arms and thighs around him and squeezed him tightly, running her hands along his shoulders and the sides of his neck. He flinched when she grazed the marks from Cazador's bite but passed it off as a gasp from his desire.

He had to admit; she wasn't all bad but he couldn't be sure of her dedication to him and his cause. Not without devotion beyond a shadow of a doubt. He had to woo her, far beyond what he'd ever done before.

He had to be clever about this. Seduction was a sprint, whatever this was would be a marathon.

Tav smiled and traced her teeth over her bottom lip. She was very beautiful. It was less of a chore when they were attractive.

Her eyes were flitting over his face, Astarion kept his flirtatious smile ever present.

"Would you like to feed on me when we have sex? I assume you've never done that before?" She offered with a suggestive tilt of her head, exposing just enough of the taut flesh of her neck.

A jolt of something he didn't quite recognise zapped through his body like a Witch bolt and Astarion's flawless smile faultered. His flaccid cock twitched and began to ache, rapidly growing.

His body tensed at the reaction. This never happened. He could count on one hand how many times he'd naturally gotten hard - as natural as it was for a dead man to get hard, of course.

The surprise on his face must have been abundantly apparent, as Tav smiled brightly with a cheeky glint.

"I assume that's a yes, then?" She chuckled, her eyes dipping down between them to his rigid member, beginning to roll her hips against him, her wet folds lightly teased his swollen member as she undulated.

Astarion chest felt tight and his eyes rolled back unexpectedly at the delicious feeling.

Suddenly, he found himself falling backwards, as Tav pushed herself off the tree.

Now in ordinary circumstances, he would have been able to save himself and them and soften the blow. However, seeing as 1, he wasn't expecting to be falling and 2, was suddenly filled with a need he'd not experiened in quite some time; they both fell unceremoniously to the floor, reeling from the impact.

"Ahh, my fucking knees!" She cried, laughing and hissing in pain.

"Your knees? What about my back? You just threw us on the floor, you idiot!" He spat at them, a dull throb radiating.

Tav started to laugh, "I'm sorry! I thought it would be sexy. Ow, myfuckingknees." She covered her mouth, still chuckling and sat straight upwards, her warmth settling on top of his confused erection.

"Are you okay?" She giggled, placing her fingertips gently on where his heart was.. where it used to beat.

If he had breath to hitch, it would have.

"I'm alright." He shrugged off, "it's lucky the ground's soft around here." He swallowed, "Are you alright?" He asked, realising he should show concern.

"I'm fine. Just wasn't expecting smashed knees and tree branches up my arse is all." She smirked in faux pain.

Astarion let out a loud and unexpected "Ha!" at the comment and gave her a genuine smile.

"Just to preface, I wasn't expecting anything up my arse tonight. You don't get those goods out the gate, Mr. Vampire. No matter how pretty you are." She said plainly, with a hint of amusement.

"Spawn. Get it right, or don't get it at all." He countered.

"Ooh, I do apologise, Mister Vampire Spawn Saer. I prostrate before thee, how could seek thy forgiveness?" She flourished her hand in a mock bow.

He gripped her quickly, and flipped her with new found vigor. She gasped and giggled as they rolled.

Now encased below, he crawled up the length of her body, "Well, I can think of one way." He lilted playfully, as he braced his hands by her head.

She smiled again, relaxing into the position, before offering her neck to him.

For the second time that night a jolt of something he didn't quite understand coarsed through him, it settled low and hungry in his belly. His cock swelling back to size, laying like a snake wait on her soft stomach.

He couldn't figure it out. Figure her out. This wasn't how it normally went.

His usual feelings of disgust and loathing would sit in his throat, like bile. Would grip his haunches and made him recoil, make him feel like he was the lowest creature on the face of Faerûn.

Despicable. Foul. Vile.

But this new feeling, this desire, this.. need? Was completely foreign to him.

Tav pulled him from his thoughts with her gentle touch, which he flinched from unconsciously.

"Hey, you alright?" Concerned furrowed her brow as she gazed up at him, moon and starlight reflected in her gaze.

His veneer slide back into place, "Of course darling, just thinking of all the ways I can make you cum." He reached between them to pinch a nipple, she gasped, to which he silenced with a deep kiss.

It wasn't his fault. This is what he had to do. What he was good at. What he'd spent so many years doing. Perfecting. But this would be beyond that.

He needed to her to fall so deeply in love with him that she'd never betray him. That she'd die for him, sacrifice herself for him, so that he might survive Cazador's impending attempt to drag him back.

To do that he had to: seduce her, sleep with her numerous time, make her orgasm so hard she wouldn't be able to move. He'd have to use his most advanced moves to assure this mission's success.

He would manipulate her so convincingly, that she would willingly fight a Vampire Lord to protect him. That was a tall order. Depending on how long he had to work on her.

He made people fall in love with him in an evening. This shouldn't be that much harder. He'd have to-

"Bite me, Astarion." Tav breathed against his mouth, and his mind stilled.

It was like he'd walked into a solid brick wall. Something hot and eager flushed him.

He came back to his body with two fingers stuffed inside her tight cunt, her warm juices spilling on to his hand and his cock limply hanging between his legs.

Clearly he'd been busy while he'd stepped away from the reigns.

Her words echoed through him like a gong reverberated through a temple.

He pulled his lips back and bared his fangs to her, tightened every muscle in his body.

He knew how delicious she was, how rich and delectable she was. And now he knew how emotions flavoured the blood; her anticipation and nervousness the first time, the relaxation of the following times, the fear of the bandits he'd drained to death on the battlefield. All of them tasted different.

Gods, what would arousal taste like.. desire.. orgasm..

"You're a shit Vampire, Astarion, honestly. Oh, Vampire Spawn. Let's not forget semantics." She teased, biting her lip.

"Well, you're a-" He had nothing. He had blood on the brain, and his cock apparently wanted cunt.

Her muscles clenched down on his digits as she laughed, "Good one, Star."

"Oh, shut up." He snarked with a grin, that she replied with, as he finally pierced her skin and tasted her decatent blood.

She hissed and clenched around his fingers again, as he removed his teeth from the puncture points to release her blood.

It filled his mouth, rushing out of her in spurts. He drank deeply, tasting her excitement. It tasted citrusy, bright and sharp on the tongue, then it changed to deep berries, rich and warm. Her delicious blood coated his throat and nourished his body, as he swallowed her down.

He began pumping his dexterous fingers inside her again, his thumb flitting over her clit. She gasped again and brought her hands to grasp his neck and shoulder.

She moaned and twitched under him, "Ah, ah-starion. That feels.. ngh.. don't stop."

He hummed and shook his head in agreement against her neck. There wasn't a chance he was stopping. There wasn't a chance he could.

This felt fucking amazing. Tasted like pure heaven.

He was painfully hard. The blood he was draining from her filling his cock with sensations.. divine, eye-rolling sensations.

Limitless freedom, hedonistic pleasure. A heady high that had him groaning against her skin.

She writhed her hand between them, towards his thick member. It would be awkward but gods he needed her to touch him.

He'd never needed anyone's touch more than hers at this precise moment.

He pushed his hips up higher wantonly, to allow her more room. She grasped his cock within her grip and immediately started pumping.

He broke the seal of his lips against her flesh, gasping and panting. The cool air of the night a stark contrast to the warmth of her blood dripping down his chin.

"Oh gods, Astarion." She keened beneath him, digging her nails into the muscle of his bicep with the other hand.

He gasped against the overwhelming bombardment of sensation assailing him; the taste of her blood, the smell of arousal, the burn of desire, the delicious friction of her hand.

It was wrong, wasn't it? Feeling good during sex? It wasn't supposed to feel this way. It wasn't meant to be enjoyable. It never had been before..

But gods it was now. It was almost too much.

His hand moved of it's own accord, practised for years in the art of autopilot; finessing between curling his digits stuffed inside her tight pussy and his thumb fluttering over her clit. And thank that gods, because he was not present. For an entirely different reason this time.

He whimpered, mouth agape, thinking blood coating his tongue. He was in a state of total and unexpected euphoria. Nothing mattered except remaining forever, in this moment, in this clearing.

Feather light touches brushed against his mind, seeking connection.

Astarion flinched at the intrusion, "What are you.. doing?" His mind's voice irritated and desperate.

"Going to cum.. soon. Collective ecstasy.. remember?" She replied, her's tense and full of revelry.

Astarion swallowed, latent blood flavouring his tongue. His face tensed, unsure.

He looked down at her face. Gods, she was close. The throes of pleasure evident on her beautiful face, bathed in the moonlight. It hit low in his belly, tightening his testicles.

It would be fun to use these parasites for something as debauched as this.

Those tentacled freaks wouldn't expect that, would they?

He allowed her to enter his mind, just a little. Only to be blown backwards by the rush of orgasmic energy that blazed towards him like a Thunderwave.

The storm that was roiling inside her, the building crescendo, the sheer desperation to cum. It paralysed him. It tangled within him. It wrapped itself around his cock, his hips and thighs. It painfully pinched at his nipples. It delectably nibbled at his ears.

"Gods above!" He spluttered, knocked completely off his guard.

His own orgasm rushed to meet her at the precipice, his body straining at the surge of endorphins.

"I can.. hold on.." she muttered, weakly. He clasped his hand to hers, above her head, on the forest floor.

He could almost see her, stood at the edge of a great ravine that dropped into nothingness. She reached her hand for him. His fingertips touched hers.

Their hands entwined on the edge of the swirling void. She let out a deep exhale and willingly fell backwards into the abyss, and he was unable to - refused to - fight it.

"No.. cum.. cum.. with me.." No later than he'd uttered the last word, he felt her walls clench around him.

Free fall..

Silence..

Peace..

And for the first time in over 200 years, he actually looked into the eyes of the person with him. Her reverent gaze pierced through his sorry façade, his pain and his suffering.

It was like time had slowed.

He saw her in two realities. This one; where he loomed over her, fingers in her cunt and her hand wrapped round his cock. And the other; the leap of faith, the never-ending galaxy around them, their hands grasped so tightly.

Her pupils flashed and dilated, her face flushed and strained, as she came on his fingers.

Hers hit a moment before his. The bow string released, a spell's magic unleashed.. the storm overcame them both.

"Astarion." She whispered, smiling in absolute, unbridled euphoria.

She looked deep into his eyes, and never strayed her gaze, as her orgasm lashed through her.

Looking into her eyes, with a roar that died in his throat, hot, thick ropes of cum spurted from his pale, undead cock. It shot up her gorgeous, soft body and coated her fingers.

He felt her cunt flood with her juices, staining his palm, as she called out his name like a song.

She bucked and writhed, face contorted in ecstasy. His own pleasure causing him to thrust and jerk, veins in his neck tense and popping from the sheer force.

He collapsed on top of her, utterly spent.

There they lay in stunned, post-orgasmic bliss for what seemed effortless hours, when it fact only moments had passed. The muscles in his legs twitched, as he came down from the high. His hearing returned to him, after the thumping of her rushing blood slowed inside him. Her hard breathing softened to laboured exhales. His eyes growing heavier as Reverie beckoned.

Still collapsed on top of her, she stroked her thumb across his shoulder.

"I would call that collective ecstasy." She whispered with smile against the sweat sodden hair stuck to his temple.

He huffed out an exhausted laugh, and she pressed a kiss, to which he reciprocated in his delirium.

"I would call that a miracle." He mused, lifting himself up and peeling his chest from theirs.

He cast his eyes down on the sacrilege between them. His cum glistened in splotched patches up their stomachs and chests, where he'd collapsed after orgasm.

"Oops." He said, without a morsel of regret.

"Eh, comes with the territory." She shrugged, waving their hand and muttering the somantics for Prestidigitation.

Astarion let out a groan and rolled off her, to the ground. He was utterly spent. It had been a very long time since sex had tired him this way. Well, it hadn't even been sex.

Tav rolled onto his chest, laying her head down and letting out a big sigh.

"That was interesting, huh? Using the tadpole's connection?" There was a tease of intrigue in her voice.

"I can imagine that's not what the Illithids had in mind when they implanted us with them." He said, flippantly amused, bringing his arms to hold them.

There was a pause.

"Were you there with me? On the edge of that terrifying expanse?" Their tone was cautious but curious.

Astarion's brows shot up his face, "You saw it too?"

"I thought it was my imagination but I felt you, felt your hand holding mine," she moved her fingers to finesse his hand into the correct position to hold hands like before, "I had to know if it was real."

A twang of guilt ricocheted through his chest.

There it was. That old familiar feeling.

"Of course it was, darling." His voice was thankfully more convincing than his expression.

She smiled against his skin, pressed a kiss and let out another contented sigh, as she settled back into his embrace.

Despicable. Foul. Vile. The lowest creature on the face of Faerûn.

He sighed through his nose, his body tense with undeniable self-hatred.

Yes, this would be easy.

•°•°•

D'ya like reading smut and sweetness? I've got a Masterlist 👀🤫

[littleroaes]

To any lovers left alive ( 恋人たち ‘The Lovers’ ), l.jy

inspired by weathering with you ( 2019 )

a failed love goddess saves herself by fleeing to earth and an ordinary hopeless romantic boy ( with his self claimed younger brother ), together they start a fail-proof service that can make the love of your life fall for you too. as he teaches her human relationships, they eventually come to adore each other too. though, as the universe's not in their favor, only left is to hope.

PAIRING lee juyeon x fem!reader, high schooler!eric

GENRE FLUFF, pretty angsty, slight fantasy, little smut ( MDI 18+ ), greek mythology!au ( eros & psyche ), hanahaki disease!au ( no one dies <;3 ), teaching love!au, forbidden rules aren’t in their favor love , little crime!au, amnesia!au, they run a love service, it rains a lot, human!juyeon, eros!reader, strangers to friends to ( nearly ) lovers, mutual pining ( but juyeon does it harder ), cute flirty needy juyeon, hopeless romantic and lovesick!juyeon, y/n likes to tease juyeon, adopted little brother!eric, high schooler!eric, makoto shinkai type of love like your name ( 2015 ), weathering with you ( 2019 )

WARNINGS call reader angel once, say fuck about 5 times, knife used as a metaphor of anger ( once ), juyeon finds and fires a gun, petty crime, ANGST — > bittersweet ending, fictional disease ( not conventionally used! ), amnesia, descriptions of coughing and breathlessness, mentions of violence ( physical ), SMUT — > kissing, making out, oral ( f receiving ), palming, dry humping, soft begging, p in v, unprotected ( don’t try at home ), juyeon’s touched starved af, both are kind of switch, very fluffy smut

WORD COUNT 33.6 k

PLAYLIST

a/n : this is one of my favorite pieces ive written so I hope you like it! don’t try to translate the japanese on the banner😭, it’s literally just bs to make the banner look like the movie posters😭 I don’t usually write smut, but I thought it added to the story. but don’t worry! it’s very soft and not hardcore at all ( very fluffy ). it’s a bit angstier than my other works, not by much, it’s predominantly fluff. it’s very melancholic!

like and reblog are highly encouraged!

"A RECENT SPIKE IN NEW USERS FOR DATING APPS HAS CAUSED DEVELOPERS TO BE ASTOUNDED.

At the same time, hashtags like love is dead are trending number one on social media platforms like Twitter. Young people all over the internet are sharing their recent heartbreak, leaving us to question the mega romance struggle of the youth generation.”

When the glass door to the inner room falls close behind her, the voice from the TV in the left upper corner becomes merely a vague presence in the night. It ceases between the synthetic material of her raincoat in the harsh weather as she stands on the deck, a meter from the center. A wind from far away collides with the fragment of her face beneath the hood. How the rain, cold, impacts her skin before they descend down the curvature. 

But between the loose strands in nonexistent patterns before her eyes, shines the city in total divine. Each lightsource, limited in a single square, stacked on top of the other, reflects in the water as they approach port. 

The boat collides with the stone lining surrounding the city port. It echoes over the raging sea and Y/n forces her hands deeper down the fabric of her pockets. While the people in neon green vests let the metal reach over to land, the dock, she for a single second stood alone on, is slowly filling over with people from indoors. 

The vague heat across the passengers clothes as they pass her by. She stands still to let them cross the arch above water without reflection. Y/n walks out the metal bridge with the last five passengers. When her body reaches fast land, she hears resonant voices from the workers behind, together with the metal being thrown up against the dock. 

At the very edge of the city, she looks up towards the highest lights, where the towering buildings fade into the rain clouds. To then look down, where the crowd of passengers enters between litten up corners. The backpack on her shoulders feels immensely light as she looks at the nearest street where signs emit neon blue and starlight yellow. 

But as the celestial behind the clouded sphere continues to move when she stands underneath it, Y/n forces the straps higher and walks between the entrance of neon delight. 

The storm from the first day she laid her eyes on the city, still lingers over the high buildings. Though, the heavy rain that plummets against the architectural dimensions, can’t reach her in between all these walls. In a hostel room, cramped between six–five enclosures, until the very outer edge of the building meets weather, she sits cramped up against the computer desk. 

Teared tour guides of the metropolitan city, stacked on top of each other, and the white screen in complete view of her vision, showcases link after link of potential jobs. Every blue sentence turns purple as she passes down the page. But each leads to a paragraph with a solid brick wall. From the first word down to the next five, Y/n doesn’t have to read more to realize she isn’t qualified. 

At last, at the tail end of the first page, she finds an application for a job at a hostess bar. Three clicks among the main streets on google maps, she finds the neon sign in an alley. Half of its radiance, covered by alternate indorses. The street view won’t let her in to see the entrance, compressed between shadows. 

Y/n falls back into the chair. The rectangular screen ventures from sight field as her mind receives the blue illuminated walls and brown wood of the desk. One can barely see the floor in this precarious space, therefore, she leans further back, embraces her legs and watches the ceiling. The walls impend on her figure, but somehow she feels guarded. Between all layers, she stays hidden from the eyes of the storm or silhouettes remote from street lights. 

The complete silence of this space, bane in a second, being her stomach. A kind of sound that only comes by hunger, and a sort that pains at the very inside of the body. Y/n looks down from the walls, lets one arm off her legs and gently wraps it around her stomach. 

Her eyes wander the table. Between the small titles of books, keyboard and paper scribbles, lies three bills in vertical order. A single shadow beneath the gaping parts where paper bends, causes of the light from the screen. Y/n stares at it as if it will change. But the only thing in motion is the light from the computer, when she hasn’t moved the cursor and the white fades to a darker shade. 

Her shift will be tomorrow night, and the money beside the computer will be needed for the morning, in the badly lit register, where a man sits behind a scratched plastic veil. The same sound from before lingers between the room and Y/n gently stands up. The chair creaks as she pushes it under the table and turns against the artificial light, to get the plastic raincoat, dripping of water from the weather thundering outside. 

“I apologize, I’m-” 

“Out! You’re fired!” 

The last words leaving her mouth echoes over the blue-red litten street. As his face is only a centimeters from the back door, she takes the handle and forces it close. The sharp edge of the black metal tears the space in between them. His eyelids fall shut, chin down towards his chest as his right foot trips over the elevation in asphalt. In the limited back door space, where he stands secluded from rain, are two plastic bins. His feet touch the ground where water has endured along concrete and created a static puddle. The opposite loses grip and his shoulder lands on the brown bin, at the edge of the cubicle.

How in an instant, the fall of rain against concrete existed only auditorily, but to now soak his white shirt. The brown bin, together with his own silhouette, falls down the asphalt, creating waves in the thin build up of water. All its insides are dispersed across the alley, beside his knee, to the cigarette ashtray down the other wall. 

He lets hands coat himself in midnight rain as he forces to stand. Assemble the pieces in neon light as he desperately wonders where to take himself next. Wherever his thoughts seem to take him, his mind always runs back to his brother. 

When the bin stands upright, at the place it first belonged, he sees a brown paper bag below it. Sealed in tape across the opening. To reach down and see dark spots form, where his fingers touch the paper. His eyes curiously brightened by the red neon sign above. The paper bag, tightly shut, seamlessly goes into his pocket. Even as he comes out the back alley of restaurants and out the high end street where people without faces covered in raincoats brush against him, he thinks about the slight weight change in his right pocket. 

-

At the glass door into a fast food chain where a doorstep separates the water and white clear floor, he steps in. When it locks to the frame, the weather becomes simply a vague background shatter against the windows. Instead, static rhythms come from the TV in the higher corner. 

He finally takes a seat. Black tray decorated in a thin piece of paper with his order placed on top. The grease of the burger seeps through the wrapping. As he sits on the extended piece of table up against the window, he sees fragments of a color spectrum in the dark as people pass him by. He takes off his marine blue raincoat, water courses through the folds and down the hem, before it assembles and falls to the floor. To let it continue pour beneath the chair as he places it on the back rest. He sits down again, sees his reflection in the window. Though supposed to be a transparent barrier to another scene, in the dark, even windows become mirrors. He sees a vague outline of his metal plate on his uniform. “Juyeon”, outlined in two languages fully black. Before opening his meal, he unclips the brooch and lays it beside the tray. 

While half way through his burger, the paper bag in the right pocket off his raincoat crosses his mind. Still with the burger in one of his hands, the other reaches to the end of his raincoat, where the hem line dances upon the floor. It whispers of paper and he has it only a centimeter or two below the table. Juyeon’s chin leans forward and the strands of his fringe fall with it. 

He turns it upside down and inspect the crinkled sides. Finally lets his food down the tray to use both hands to gently loosen the tape from the fibers. The fold at the very top of the brown bag opens and Juyeon cautiously reaches his finger in between. 

He can’t completely ascertain why he took it. Maybe because there’s no firm reasoning to argue, since it was only pure curiosity. One doesn’t throw a sealed package in the bin, he thinks. 

Strands of his fringe seem to fall faster when his eyes reach for the black complexion hiding beneath the paper. The skin of his fingers feels cold hard material, and when his hand returns, revealing half of the object in matt black, his eyes go from curious to wide of racing heart. 

He only sees the object for a second, but nonetheless, Juyeon brings it to his stomach and leans over the table. The bag is in full shadow beneath his body and eyes coated in a thin layer of horrid adrenaline, watching the surrounding tables. When the weighting pressure against his chest has started to loosen and the avid line of light in his eyes has run out, Juyeon leans up a little. Let the radiance from the spotlight ceiling find its way in and make sense of the object again. 

As he sat and wished it was a dream, beneath him, in his own lap, lies a gun. Sharp lines of its corners contrast violently against the color palette of the restaurant. Juyeon takes his hand down towards it, feels the weight. Sounds of dark pitch when tapping his nail against it. There is no frame in his mind whether the object in his lap is a real gun. Closest being a toy gun from the local kids shop in younger days. It could not be real, he thinks, as it turns to the other hand. 

Either way, when Juyeon once again looks up, the scenery is as serene as the first time. At the highest corner above the toilets is a screen. TV that, instead of music distracts from the overbearing silence of a strange place, plays the news. The woman in the suit talks about the spike in dating apps. With the first mention of romance, Juyeon looks away. Cage the voice, to simply return to background noise, without a purpose of being understood. 

For the last time his eyes recoil to the gun. Juyeon takes up the paper bag again, folding it gently around the gun before reaching to his jean pocket. If it’s real, he needs to keep it hidden and preferably leave it inside another dark alley along the city streets. And if it is just simply plastic, it bears no consequences. 

Where paint starts to fade, cloth seen behind the window and electric cables rather than leaves. Y/n stands on her toes to inspect the details of glass into private lives. An apartment complex compressed between five others, stairs where the rain varies in flow, down each step to the closest drain and three windows in lack of light. 

In contrast to the constant pedestrian crossings further away, places like these may hold people with forgetful minds about their doors, or just the framework itself that is supposed to protect them, won’t. 

At the third floor of the complex in gray shade, is a dark window with broken lining placed a meter from the stairway. Y/n has gone into the alleyways where lush plants of the forever rain covers any spots where street lamps would shine between the high buildings. It's cramped, shoulders brush between edges of green plantation and feet nearly trip over pots. There are metal fences in blue pigment that creak every time she opens or closes them. But at last, she stands at the end of the stairs, beside a plant, suffocated in water. 

To reach out the window with red hands as an effect of cold, onto the ice metal lining. It hurts in those fingers but nonetheless, Y/n continues to pull on loose pieces and hit the frame. As another wind rises, a star dies and one room in the neighborhood darkens. The square design loosens from the complex and creaks amidst the rain shatter. 

It’s simple to take one step onto the sill and force one’s body up the elevation, to then fall to the opposite floor. Though, as Y/n then stands up to observe the secret world of someone else’s, she feels just a little guilty as eyes return to the floor. How her shoes holding rain frees it, and causes thin puddles to collect beneath. Y/n turn her head, two beds beside her, and way in, a kitchen. She walks up to the counter where a few plates are stacked and the window above the sink opens for light over the otherwise shadowed details.

Immediately, there’s a neatly organized box of ramen packages close to the sink. Placed in color order, Y/n’s hand, just a little hesitant to actually reach out and ruin it. Three red’s that she gently puts in her raincoat, because it was most of that color. Now her eyes adverts from the counter up to the shelves. Hidden furthest where the sharp lines and walls cut off any highlights, she sees a plastic bag. Y/n stands on her toes to force her hand in, it echoes of plastic throughout the apartment. When reading the label, it’s melon bread. 

A sudden sound goes through the walls, a click from the hallway behind her. Y/n looks over her shoulder to see a streak of yellow light, painting the floor before it disappears when the door closes once again. Fabrics and keys, chaotic in that part of the complexion and Y/n stares at the wall before the new presence. All thoughts that race through her mind, become none when they all collide into each other. A fragment of an idea does make itself out of the blur. But there is no use in hiding beneath the sink or running towards the window, because when her eyes drift for an escape, the person reveals himself and stares eye to eye with her. 

As if body, absent like two curtains drifting apart, her soul left before him. She hasn’t realized the anonymity in the real world until the eyes of someone else, truly authenticate her existence. How much of humanity is just to fill up old space and pass each other in it. 

As neither of them say anything, a second silhouette appears from the hall. 

“What’s wrong-” He, a distance in height from the former and in navy school uniform with a backpack, halts his words when closing in on the taller, and then follows the line of stare to her figure. The taller’s eyes turn sharp in casted light from outside. He takes a step back to the one in school uniform, so his body hides from her sight, aside from the glimpse of hair and eyes above the shoulder. 

“Who are you?” 

Y/n lift her hands up to head length, the plastic of red vibrant packages crinkles with it, “I’m not here to hurt anyone.” She purses her lips in, tears her eyes away from theirs as she watches the city framed in the window. To let her hands down again, Y/n stacks the three red packages on top of each other and the bread neatly beside. 

“I’ll leave.” Her shoes stain the floor and cold air forge divides them as she passes down the hallway. The one protected by a taller shoulder, watches her take the door handle and turns when he feels the presence of the one before him alter. 

“You didn’t take anything else?” The taller one asks while looking at her. The line of his shoulders aren’t as tense, the shine in his eyes from the awake city at night, reflects like a single star rather than the red light at the tops of soaring buildings. Y/n holds her hand still on the metal, shakes her head. Soon after, he frees his back from the shorter, continuing up the counter. Eyes of the one in uniform follows him and lingers in the direction plastic can be heard. Then, in a slightly faster haste than daily walk, he comes up to her with the three ramen and bread. 

Her eyes remain in wonder over his two hands with mere distance to her own. And as another second passes, she sees a fruit bar of sorts on top of the ramen. Y/n takes her eyes off the food in an uncertain manner, towards the window. The student who still glances in her direction, stays at that line of floor. 

The plastic sounds again as he motions it towards her. His fringe follows that action, “You needed the food.” He says gently and this time, fully extends his arms to let the vibrant material fold gently against her stomach. 

Y/n finally lets her hands around it, rain on her coat, now spreading across the synthetic. The shoes on her, find themselves in an awkward position and vision wanders between two points. Therefore, the boy gently nods and purses his lips in. 

Her hand finally weighs down on the handle and a light, much stronger than the moon, opens from that point. It casts itself over him and the one further into the apartment. She for the first time realizes the complexity in human features as the highlights contrast with its shadows.

“Thank you…I’m sorry.” Y/n says quietly before closing the door. 

There’s an empty seat to his right at the back of the bus. Sunshine behind the cloud layers has passed, and during evening, the rain remains, and shatters against the windows with an ever changing view. Juyeon watches each droplet race across the glass before it implodes against the edge. The sequence as if taken out of a memory, he stares for a bit longer. 

A monotone voice lingers along the bus as it comes to a stop. The rain enhances when the doors separate. A woman in the middle of the bus walks out and at the front steps a boy in. By only a faint glimpse of his profile, even in between the masses of crowds, Juyeon would make out the features and smile as he does now. Eric waves goodbye to two girls standing beneath the door before turning his head, locking eyes with Juyeon at the very back. 

Eric takes the right seat next to the older. Let the backpack off his shoulders and lie it in his lap. Juyeon observes each action and synthetic fold of the material til the door closes and the cityscape moves forward. The younger one suddenly looks up at Juyeon who still smiles, so much that his eyes start to crease. 

“Player.” Juyeon pats his shoulder against Eric’s. Meanwhile the one in sudden accusation takes up the umbrella, where it has compiled a small puddle. It spills rain on their pants as he waves it towards Juyeon, and he lets out a laugh and covers his face behind his hands. Before Eric has gotten the entire backseat rain covered, Juyeon takes his wrists and forces it down. 

“I’m not.” Eric switches to a more comfortable position, “You’re just hopeless.” 

Juyeon scoffs, “I’m not.” 

Eric does the same, leaning his body over Juyeon’s, and hand, reaching for his pocket. Eric is back in his own seat before Juyeon’s expression converts. While Juyeon furrows his eyebrows and asks him what he’s doing, Eric has his lockscreen on perfect display, HD in all dimensions, perfectly framed in the rectangular screen. The younger one turns the phone up against his nose. 

Juyeon would scold him, but his lips fall shut as the smile from dreams enters his sight once again. The picture is from a day in which the weather was warmer and the sun stood in complete limelight, cloud curtains out of view. A month has gone by, but somehow it feels as if glimpsing into a past life as he makes eye contact with the captured past. 

Juyeon takes the phone back, holds it in two hands. Eric sits quietly to observe Juyeon, and quickly sighs when the older doesn’t turn off the screen. Juyeon looks up, visible pout on his lips and fallen eyes, he consciously holds the phone while Eric falls back in his seat. 

“You still have her as your lockscreen?” 

He doesn’t answer. 

Eric sighs again, “Hopeless.” He widens his eyes, “Hopeless!”

Juyeon too leans back, letting the younger’s words drown him like the downpour. The screen close to his face again. Somehow, the longer he stares at it, he feels as if she will stand there again before him, like the spring they first met. But each night he longingly waits, but rain season never ends. 

-

At the last stop, where there’s only vague lights and dark roads. They walk under their own umbrellas. The shatter over the bus seems to haunt them wherever they go. From where cars and buses flashes beside each scenery, building walls close in on them. Each meter reaches beyond the next alley, how it feels as if the edge of the umbrella will make marks in the walls. 

It is quiet between them, Juyeon looks at Eric and observes the delicate details over his face. He smiles where the umbrella covers it. Some days, on the same street, Eric’s voice can echo past the last wall and reach further out to the sides where the signs extend. And other days, his imaginative world stays where it was born. Juyeon guesses it must have been a tiring day. 

An abrupt sound from a left alley draws a crack in the ambiance evening. Eyes of the two turn towards that vague litten path. Their sneakers cease to form circular patterns in puddles as their vision tries to reach in between the signs. At last, they finally see the figure of a girl moving backwards, away from someone on the other side as her hands extend against the wall. A shout echoes again and a man comes from the opposite side, charges against her and she pulls herself even higher up the wall. 

The two of them stand like nature in mid winter, frozen and left to watch the world. Eric’s eyes become wider when the man pulls off her raincoat hood, tauntingly gestures his hand to her face and takes a grip on her hair. The frown on Juyeon’s face reads. Though, none of them steps another foot into the alley. 

“Juy-” Eric whispers but his voice disappears when Juyeon walks forward. Each step on the stones becomes slower as he falls in line with the center. 

There’s a second presence underneath nightlife entrance. He catches sight of Juyeon first, shine of fine metal as he sharpens his eyes. Juyeon’s dispute in cautious surveillance as the man and girl shift towards him. As they lock eyes, Juyeon recognizes her features. It’s of manmade light, though, familiar as ever. 

“What do you want?” The one with turned back asks. 

Juyeon deliberately closes his hands around the umbrella, “Please, let go of her.”

The man scoffs, “It’s none of your business, Boy.” 

“I’m telling you to take a step away from her.” 

“As I said,” The man takes his hands off the wall, reiterating those words as he comes closer.

“It’s none of your business!”

The man forces his heavy arms on Juyeon’s shoulders. Lean his weight onto his palm until Juyeon falls backwards. His left foot comes behind the other, and his hand nearly loses the umbrella. Before he comes upon the asphalt, a hand on his collar obliges the rain to violently graze his face. 

At the same time, the girl walks off the wall. Contempt she takes her hand out to grip the man’s blazer. Though, before her fingers touch the black fabric, the second man comes behind her. The weight of his arm comes over her shoulders, coercing her knees to fall.

Juyeon, through the cruel grip in high angle, sees her struggle. He verges on violence, taking the loose end of his blazer and pulls him closer. But when the man loses balance, both his hands come over his shoulder. Weighed down on opposite sides, causing Juyeon to groan. Over him, he constraints Juyeon, forcing ground to pierce his back.

How the cold rain seeps through the clothing, soaks his skin until red and itches. As he tries to force his legs up, the man pushes his weight onto him harder, hands against his throat. Barely breathing, it’s enough to convert rain to stars, being buried six feet under. Each tear from the sky falls in his eyes and Juyeon irregularly closes them so as to make eye contact with the one above. 

“What will you do about it, Boy?” He taunts. 

Shirt scratches against the ground once more, a raindrop falls onto a middle point of his eyes. Juyeon trails his right hand onto the asphalt. Each sharp edge of the black stone seizes his skin and draws white patterns. He reaches for his pocket, desperately lifts on his body to make room for just a centimeter as water leaks into his clothing. Before his thighs weighs down his own, Juyeon gets the gun out. Takes his opposite from the ground, has the two of them on the trigger. With fully extended arms, he directs it towards his face, the hole as a third eye beneath him. 

He scoffs from above, “Like you will kill me either way?” 

Raincoats folding against each other to the left, as the other man holds Y/n down. His strong complexion covers Eric down the alley and Juyeon secures his eyes on the man. Pressure sores from the grinding teeth as his point finger shakes over the extinguisher. The rain falls down the matt material of the gun and down his skin. He curses the damn gun for being plastic as the man’s aggravation fuels constraint. A last taunt leaves his lips, rage when sunken to hell, crosses his chest as if by a knife, Juyeon pulls the trigger. 

Juyeon closes his eyes the moment the trigger transcend the boundary, and an ear piercing sound shocks between the high walls. Loss of vision, it feels as if the entire platform adheres to that wave. Once he opens his eyes, the shockwave has consumed all provoke. To trail the dust, it ascended and broke a street lamp, devastating the lucent. 

He distances himself, wide eyed, etched in terror, Juyeon lies still, seeing his pretense have grown ugly from the sudden shatter as the man takes two steps back. Juyeon finally sits up, rests his hand against the asphalt while still in condemnation. He tears it in a second to turn left. The girl holds the same posture as the two others, he realizes there’s no hands on her shoulders. Juyeon forces himself up, grabs her arm and collides shoulders with the man. He sees Eric standing at the same position as he left him and breathes til it hurts.  

“Run!” Juyeon shouts. 

-

He sees those windows he walks by everyday, and Eric accelerates his feet to fall in line with Juyeon. The younger takes him by the upper arm jacket and forces him to stop. 

“Where the fuck you get the gun?” Eric spits. 

Juyeon tears his arm away and looks at the streetlights in row. No stranger is present under the yellow light, so Juyeon looks back towards Eric and forces the gun lower in his pocket. 

“I found it in a paper bag, I didn’t know it was real.” He sighs, “I’ll get rid of it tomorrow, okay?”

Eric doesn’t argue further, instead takes a step back from the circle of light surrounding them. Eric stands with his back against him, head advancing in parallel to the ground as his wet shoes touch the dead grass in between the wall and asphalt. 

“Why did you do that?” 

Juyeon turns around, a thin layer of startle lies over the pupil and his chest still falls heavily from lack of air. He blinks a few times as the girl’s shoulders fall with her chin. Only a finite part of her features is visible in streetlight and the two boys wait for her in silence as she turns in her place and watches the obscure details of the wall. 

“I needed that job.” She says finally and looks up. The rain at her scalp runs down each strand until it forms a droplet at the edge. Until it lands on the skin beneath her eye.

Juyeon watches her cold written figure in fabricated light with mouth slightly agape, as if wanting to say something but no words are to use. The older feels a sudden push against his upper arm. To slip one dimension out of trance, he looks down where the wall becomes background and Eric waits impatiently. Eric’s left side leans continually towards her direction in haste, as his eyes widens. Juyeon stares at the action for a second, until returning, with the same expression as before but with a burden from the shorter. 

“I’m sorry…” Juyeon starts. She too face him, chin still a centimeter down and pupils drained of rain, or maybe worry. 

“...I thought you were in danger.” He focuses on the point where the worn down wall meets the asphalt and green complexion grows amidst. How his cold hand runs up to his neck where even his hair hasn’t been saved from downpour. There’s a sort of diversion in the way he looks down, seeming to stare at a point far away. As if it were a clear night sky with four constellations, he speaks again. 

“I shouldn't have assumed, I’m sorry.” 

Eric gives no part in sound, but still, nods his head gently. The girl at the other side of the faint circle, illuminated by the lamp, presses a faint smile. 

“You’re forgiven.” 

Juyeon looks up fully and as if another star convulsed, their expression shifts and her features are now in full view. How the moon in her veil has finally revealed the hidden side and the girl smiles fully. She shakes her head to make room for the skin concealed in strands. A filter in blue green light, enchanted by city night, conceal the space they stand in and she feels two leaves opening up its sides to reveal itself. 

“I’m Y/n.” she takes out her hand, cold as the other two’s. 

“I’m Juyeon.” He shakes her hand, “This is Eric.” And motions it to the younger. 

“Hello.” Eric says with a pressed smile. 

Y/n tilts her head, a visible change in angle as she looks at Juyeon then Eric. 

“Are you brothers or?” 

“Yes.” Eric says. Juyeon laughs awkwardly. 

“Not biologically, Eric’s my adopted brother and my mother passed away recently.” 

“Oh, sorry for your mother.” 

Juyeon shakes his head gently, “She had been sick for sometime, we take care of each other well, right Eric?” He touches his shoulder with his elbow which causes Eric to look up. 

“Mm!” He nods. 

Eric is eventually the one to ask Y/n to come in with them as the rain starts once again. Her raincoat is as wet as theirs and during the interval of their conversation, even puddles form beneath their coats. Y/n is the last one left in the bathroom. She stands with her hair above the tub, draining remaining water from her hair. Juyeon edges on the doorframe to the bathroom, looks at her with vast eyes before walking to his bed. He lends her a muted green set of clothing that he can’t remember from where. 

“You’re not from here, are you?” 

Y/n shakes her head in the bedroom. 

“I took the boat here.” 

“Where do you come from?” Juyeon asks, seated at the edge of the bed. His hands gathered at the front of his lap. Y/n looks down her own, takes the hem between two fingers before speaking. 

Her tone is gentle, birds sing in the arch of her, “I don’t think you’ll believe me.” 

"Why?" You can tell us.” He tilts his head. 

She wonder over the ceiling. Underneath this roof, it feels as if none can hurt her, “I’m not human.” 

Juyeon’s quiet, smiles cautiously to mirror her, “I-” 

His first thought is to reach out his hand and tell her she’s obviously wrong, but, there’s a certain rudeness in telling a mere stranger they have an incorrect idea about themselves. 

Y/n laughs, “Do you believe in gods, Juyeon and Eric?” She looks at the two beds. 

“No.” Eric answers immediately. 

“Then, I have to break it to you.” She looks at Eric, “I am the love Goddess.” 

“Yeah, and I’m a Unicorn.” Eric laughs. 

“Eric?!” Juyeon panics, in which Y/n laughs again. 

“Don’t worry about it, you don’t have to believe it.” 

Surrounded in conversations for a bit longer as her coat drips of rain still. The two of them come in on work, when Juyeon asks her. Y/n scratches her head as she tells him it was her only chance at a job. That nearly everything is gone after the city journey. Juyeon bites his lip and shifts weight in the bed as that hidden guilt echoes within.

“Can’t you start a service?” His sudden voice lingers over the hard floor. Y/n has her head in his direction, with eyes casted by the little lamp beside the mattress. Juyeon takes his hand on the edge of the bed and Eric watches from the opposite side how he settles onto his knees, further than a meter distance, but close enough for her to feel the wooden floor trail his motions in the contrasting sereness of Earth

“I mean,” Juyeon takes one hand on the floor and leans onto it.

“Say, you promise to people to put in their name and someone they like, that they’ll fall in love, in exchange you get money?” 

To deflect from the thin bridge created between them, Y/n returns to the hemline. Where the washed out fabric turns sparse, and because of the warm light from, the outline of her legs filters through the fabrication. The spot beside him becomes desolate as he takes his hand back to his own warmth, to rest with the other in the curve of his lap. 

“Maybe…” She answers without looking. 

Juyeon shifts his legs, he falls into a criss-cross position, “I mean, magic is profitable, people seem to like it.” He looks behind himself to point at Eric on the other bed, but stutters as his silhouette has fallen between the blue patterns, only his feet visible at the edge. 

“I-I see high school students with magic stones all the time.” 

Y/n smiles again. To bring her legs up from the floor and embrace them with her arms as she leans into the gap created by colliding knees. 

“It is one of the first rules as a god to not interfere with human life for personal gain.” She pauses, “I probably shouldn’t.” 

It turns silent once again, or, silence aside from the snoring coming from the bed in the corner. Then of course, a city is never fully asleep. He scratches his nape and diverts his vision to the dishwasher in the kitchen, “I’m sorry, I just feel really bad for the job thing.” His back falls towards the floor gently, but despite delicate, he hits it. As it lingers amid the inner four walls and trails to her end, she smiles and laughs. 

“It’s okay,” Y/n nods, “I’ll think about it.” 

“Is it true?” One of the girls, in high ponytail, wrapped in red silk band asks. 

Y/n nods, pushes the pink box one step closer over the table. She takes up the black marker, holds it out to them. With an encouraging motion of her hand and the calm line of her lips. Before the girl at the center touches hands with Cupid, Eric comes forward.

“You can get a free trial.” 

The peaceful features on her face, reminiscent of a spring morning, disappears like it has  run one season back. Her head shifts towards him in a second, eyes wide and begs him as to why he just uttered those words. Eric sees them, but looks away, just as calmly as he said that sentence. 

“Try for free and if it works, tell the others around the school.” He holds out his hand, “Deal?” 

The girl in center alternates intent with the two beside her. The gaze bridging between them must have sent some obsolete signals, Y/n think, cause after, she who has the pen reaches out her hand. Y/n, desperate, tells herself not to tremble when the girl takes a pink note. How the synthetic tip scratches against the dry paper surface, and after a few seconds, the girl lets the note fall into the liminal space seeping light into the box. 

Y/n watches in silence as they disappear out the door and follow their back silhouette as far as the windows down the hall let her. Y/n looks at him once again. Eric lifts his eyebrows as her eyes are intensely edged and while her left cheek seems to pout out a bit further than the right. 

“It’s business.” He says, “After you actually make them fall in love, the whole school will come rushing in here.” 

Y/n tilts her head back. Impatience bound through her veins when she feels as if the sun hasn’t risen another centimeter. Her arms across her chest as she thinks about dirty hostels and forbidden rules.  

Eric sighs and one of the backpack straps falls down his shoulder, “Trust me, rumors spread fast in here.” 

She nods, accepting the fact that the human beside her knows more than she does. 

- 

Only one more student came by that morning. They had allegedly built curiosity when a pink flier at the bottom of the stairs, written in bold letters with about four thousand hearts, crinkled when they opened the main entrance. Y/n was rather skeptical of the poster Eric gifted her. The A4 was the cleanest shade of white she had ever laid her eyes on, either way, when he asked why, she didn’t want to admit it was the rough edges of his lettering. Also, that her own wasn’t worth a duck feather pen in fine ink either. 

Eric said he needed to go to his next class. Y/n had taken a seat down one of the chairs beside a desk. She shifted her head where the sun struck his face, the warm filter over his complexion, reminded her of gold. He told her to lay low, even go to the cafe two buildings away if teachers control the flier pointing at room 233   . 

When she watched his silhouette fade from yellow tones and into shadows of the cold litten building. His back draped in navy fabric disappears behind the same wall as all four other people. As only the ventilation lingers between the dust and even the clock over the door stands frozen in time at 14:17, Y/n sighs and turns her head to the window. Staring worriedly at a point beyond the sky only she can see.

-

How the end of each shoe shatters against the floor as students pass by the windows of each classroom down the corridor. As the teacher neither sits on her own desk or stands before the chalkboard, all fabrics, bags and voices come in clusters, lined up against each corner and wall. 

A voice from the right side of the classroom, beside the window, draws his vision to them. At that corner of the room stands a group of four other boys. Eric waves before walking between the desks down the spot underneath the sunlight. 

“You’re late.” One indicates. 

“I’m always.” Eric laughs and lets the backpack fall off his shoulder. 

“But I saw you on the way here, you were with some girl?” The other in the group starts making noises and hitting his shoulder. Eric instead rolls his eyes. 

“She needed help, she’s my brother’s age either way.” 

The book in his bag comes up in height with Eric’s head, before he swings it against the one beside him. It lands on his chest and the other boys laugh loudly. Though, fades in a second when inpatient footsteps run down the hall and crash though the classroom frame. The entirety of the classroom has turned their heads to the one at the center of the chalkboard. It’s the football captain of the team. His hair stands shiverled, the one collar of his blazer is folded inside. At the same time, while all eyes are on him, he scans the panorama and stops when he sees the group furthest down to the left. 

His eyes light up in a way only described in fairytales. The curve of his lips and the breath of relief that go through them as he runs up to the group. The people surrounding that desk make room for him as he comes closer. On one of the chairs sits the girl who put her name in the pink box. Eric can only see the boy’s back but clearly each and every change in her facial features. It feels as if she hasn’t closed her eyes since he came before the desk. They sparkle reflection of his own and he finally speaks. 

“I walked past a flower shop yesterday, and I saw this, it reminded me of you so I ran and bought it.” He takes up a silk wrapped bouquet that takes up the entirety of his backpack. A gasp goes through the room, and the girl too, lacks air in her lungs as she hesitantly takes the flowers. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. 

“I love you, Lynn.” 

Whispers of excitement fill the four walls and dares to break through the window. Faintly beside him, Eric makes out that the four behind him start whispering too and laughs.He thinks of the paper down the stairwell and Y/n on the floor above. How he has maybe found God, placed in his mundane daily life. 

-

In the tear of afternoon Eric lets his bag levitate over the floor as he waits for the teacher to set the ending breath of her sentence. And the moment she does, Eric takes full step across the sharp edges of each desk and nearly falls over one. Out in the hallway, Eric runs, his figure covers the orange shade seeping through each window as he comes up the stairs, making the poster almost lose touch with frail plastic tape. 

At the second floor, he searches each frame that lets him glimpse through the transparency and into the room behind walls. And at the very end, where he left her before the class, her back stands against the bygone rectangle in sun bleached composition. Y/n turns from the school scenery and looks back at him. It could be the novel perspective he has gained that makes him biased, but he wonders if she knew his presence up the stairs before even this dimension let her hear it. 

Her features are peacefully drawn against her skin, not a single rule of tension as she questions his presence with vast eyes. 

“How did you do it?” Eric walks up closer to her. Y/n smiles and leans further against the window to watch the vague silhouettes and their shadow drawn across the concrete. 

“I told you, I’m not human.” She looks at him.

As voices from the entangled hallways underneath their feet reach their ears, Eric wonders if a change in perception will happen, if he lets the minute visor move one step further. Even Y/n’s expression alters. The younger one leans in a bit closer, his pupils seem to search for a fragment of something else, to make sense of her place in home he thought he knew. Y/n herself tense and with immense eyes, takes up her hands. 

Like a child taking its first step to explore the vast Earth, Eric reaches his finger out to touch her nose, then her cheek. Later the eyelid, force to close and open it which eventually makes Y/n take a step back and blink about three times in span of one. Y/n laughs slightly as Eric still observes her essence without blinking. 

A sharp sound, contrasting to the muted creaks of desks and old walls veiled in delicate old linen. Behind her back, an arrow that balances between the points of two fingers. She looks towards his face, not a single filter thrown over a feature of his astonished expression. Sun reflects onto it as it weighs in her hand, and she closes the space in between them as the arrow comes underneath his chin.

“So you believe me now?” Y/n asks, still smiling. 

How his eyes, comparable with the sun as they delights in curiosity. His fingers reach for the arrow, but hesitantly closes in on his chest before he looks up towards her again. Y/n nods gently and takes her hand closer and his fingers finally feel the thin line of the arrow. He takes it gently in two hands. Doesn’t quite force his fingers around it, as if a touch, merely a frequent stronger would tear it. 

“Yeah!” He breathes out, “Yeah, I do!” 

Y/n opens her mouth to speak once again, but a knock against the frame from the opposite side takes their attention away. Where the sunshine cast itself the clearest, stands another girl and a friend slightly behind. The girl’s hand on the lining, she looks behind her shoulder before back at Y/n. 

“I saw your poster, I heard you can make people fall in love.” The girl takes her shoulder bag to her font and reaches for the pocket. Between folding of materials and crinkles of keys, the girl extends her arm with a bill. 

“We want to try.” 

As the limited day hours come on its last ones in winter, Eric and Y/n look at each other. The younger enthusiastically nods when her eyebrows fall into a state of trouble. Hesitantly, Y/n nods towards him and takes the place behind the desk and slides two pink notes across the surface. 

“Of course!” 

Winter reeks off the flooring and spreads up her skin. She holds her legs tighter against her body as each bill and silver coin touches the cold floor. With the last gray metal circle in place, she extends her back and scans the paper in thousand folds. Y/n bites her lip with her face down towards her lap, and her back still as a first impression when someone comes through the door. 

Thin plastic bindings whisper in the hall. Juyeon takes off his shoes at the door frame, chin directed against Y/n’s back underneath the counter. His fingers don’t find the laces and he takes his eyes off for a second. Eric lies in bed, with his phone and Juyeon sighs quietly before letting the plastic bag up on the square table. 

“Eric, you need to do your homework.” Juyeon tilts his head to get even a vague coloration. 

“I’ll do it soon.” Eric answers. 

To fold down the white synthetic filter, Juyeon looks down at Y/n again. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks. 

Y/n looks up with vast eyes that fall in usual size once again. She presses a smile between her lips and trails the line between the wood. 

“I’m a little worried.” She says, though she quickly breathes again as his hands come off the bag. 

“It’s not a lot though, the hostel is just getting more expensive. The money isn’t quite enough yet.” Y/n turns back to the three bills and two coins. 

“You can stay here.” Eric’s voice comes from the other end. The two of them look at him, now fully extended over the covers. The sheets drape over his shoulders and legs while the blue light from the screen illuminates his face. She returns in direction and sees Juyeon looking at her with the identical vast eyes as her own. Y/n looks away, she realizes Eric’s complexion isn’t as daunting. 

“Can’t she?”

“It’s okay I don’t-” Y/n answers, but Juyeon intervenes.

“No, you can stay.” 

Y/n turns to him fully without words, stares at him as he looks away and scratches his neck. It’s still quiet when he remembers the plastic bag left on the table and starts to empty it. 

“Are you sure?” Y/n hesitates. At first thought, she doesn’t want to intrude on the line she already feels like bordering. Contrary, she thinks going around the streets would be ruthless. Juyeon nods and she looks over towards Eric. 

“You too?” 

“Of course, Juyeon’s starting to get on my nerves either way.” He sighs and falls back onto the pillow. The tone itself was nearly bounding on a desire to become three in the house rather than specifically having her settle in. 

“Hey?” Juyeon’s hands tangle themselves in the thin synthetic while he tries to get them out. His head leans dramatically to one side while Eric has let the pillows impose around him again.

“I understand that.” Y/n crosses her legs and leans back on her arms, “Don’t worry, Eric, I’ll keep you entertained.” 

Juyeon holds a sort of offended expression as she laughs and Eric comes up the fabrics again. 

“You’re a high schooler, you just hangout with friends either way.” Juyeon sulks. 

“Doesn’t matter, Y/n’s cooler than you.” 

“How?” He walks over to Eric’s bed, letting his arms hang low as he stands above the younger and his fringe fall upon. 

“She’s literally a god, and you don’t even have a girlfriend.” He moves his hand. 

Eric sees from beneath his figure how it forms a gap between Juyeon’s lip, but quickly disappears. As the older has learnt there is no pride left in fighting with the teenager, Juyeon shifts in direction and with the help of his socks, slide defeated against the floor, back to the plastic bag. 

-

All three of them folded out two lonesome blankets scattered in the apartment. It lay on the carpet in the center of the two bed’s. Y/n sat down on the blankets to touch the pillow, but Juyeon insisted on her sleeping in his bed. It took some persuasion, but he smiles so sincerely and talks tenderly that no God could replicate. She accepted and sat on the bed edge. Eric gave her a worn down pajama set from years ago. 

Juyeon’s eyes follow her figure, walking away as he stands with his hands awkwardly to the sides. 

“The shirt is buttoned wrong.” Her vision from the bedroom, back to the kitchen. He stands still, takes one hand to his neck, scratches it gently before letting it fall down to his own shirt. His fingers draw outlines of details of her own and she looks down to see the overlap in fabric, each button forcing the other side higher. 

“Oh.” Y/n frees the first button from the fabric, but it stays in between her fingertips as there is no place to secure it. Juyeon takes a cautious step forward. Where his feet land it makes no creaks and the fall off a button is the loudest thing in the room. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Y/n instantly comes to the floor and takes up the missing piece from Eric’s shirt. She looks up to him apologetically with the plastic piece hidden in her palm as she reaches her arm towards him. 

“It’s okay.” He takes the button, then walks over to the kitchen counter. Y/n watches how he opens one of the pantries and takes out a transparent pouch with orange highlights. 

“I’ll help you.” He smiles, identical as the sunset shine in winter. It casts cold over skin where there’s no button to cohere fabric. Y/n nods and they walk to his bed, sit by the edge. Y/n’s closest to the pillow end and watches how he opens the zipper to take up a thin needle and a roll of white thread. Juyeon sees her attentive eyes on his hands between the motions. The white thread comes through the metal end and he cuts it off with scissors. Juyeon holds his hands in between them, hesitantly reaching for the open fabric. He locks eyes with her again. 

“Is it okay that I?” With no more than a timid hand motion, he asks. But Y/n understands. She smiles and straightens her posture, separating the front and hair with her hands. Juyeon smiles awkwardly with his lips pressed against each other and the opposite ends curl upwards. He takes the folded edge of the fabric delicately between two fingers and leans closer to her chest. When the sharp end filters the backside, his hand brushes against her skin. Juyeon holds his eyes on that spot on the shirt, but really, her warm breath drapes his head in summer mist. 

After the button falls in a vertical line with the others, Juyeon lies the needle down. He looks at the two sides of the shirt, shriveled and folded in different heights. Y/n herself, once again looks down her front and follows the line, how the fabric separates from the other side. Halfway through, she buttons again, but Juyeon sees instantly how she’s one level too high. 

“I…” His body still in the same place, to attentively listen to the folds in the sheets as to remind himself not to come closer. Juyeon takes his hands onto the end fabric. He coerces together to seal the shadows casted by moonlight onto her skin, their hands brush against each other. The distance between them is incredibly insignificant, in a way that lets her scent intertwine with his own and he hides his face by looking at the hemline. 

His head right underneath her chin, his hair smells delicate, of morning in blooming spring. The top of his head reflects the moon and his faint breath damp on her skin. 

“And it’s done-” 

A sound in greater volume than anything else in the apartment erupts from the other side. Y/n stands up as Eric comes out from the bathroom, his silhouette darker from the warm light coming behind him. Juyeon’s hand diverts back to his own sides. His head slightly tilted up to continue to watch her face and make out the expression above. 

Eric walks through the frame, it creaks slightly as he falls down the covers. Y/n looks again where Juyeon observes her with eyes, reminiscent of the cityscape playing outside. It shines across and paints the brown pupil in a cold color. She smiles slightly and takes another step. 

“Thank you.” She says gently. 

-

When shoes scratch against the hallmat and two voices he has recorded in a secluded part of his brain intertwines, Juyeon leans forward on toes to let a glimpse of their figures reach from the thin wall. He takes a step before the dividing part of the rooms and stares in silence over the rain consumed. Their hair lies slick against their heads and the thin surface of a droplet holds itself like tears underneath their eyes. Soon gathers a darker blemish by the hemline. 

Juyeon immediately runs up to them and feels the water spread from the floor up to his socks. To let his hands immerse in cold rain across the coat arms as he forces them to the bathroom. Though, Y/n insists to wait until Eric’s done as the four walls impend onto them as they stand all three before the bathtub with the sink piercing against their backs. 

Eric sees his reflection in the bathroom mirror, starts violently shake his hair to let off the residing water running down his head. The two others shouts, arms covering their faces to ensure any warmth left on their skins in the bathroom. Y/n let her vision through the passage created by the coat arms when Eric’s laugh parallel between the high ceiling. She feels his arms collide onto her own as he points at Juyeon. The water divided into pairs runs down his forehead, to after his lips. Fringe has fallen flat onto his eyes as the water weighs heavy and all collects at the neck of his shirt as a dark stain. Y/n too, starts to smile before falling into laughter together with Eric. Juyeon stands as if anchored to the bathroom mat pressing his lips in. 

As some minutes in the room pass, they stand three in row with the last person out the hall. Y/n on the floor at the borderline where the bathroom goes to hall, she sits crisscrossed while Eric stands on knees behind her. The coarse fabric of the towel onto her head as Eric treats it like laundry. And at the top of the three stories stands Juyeon, still drenched, more than the others maybe, drying off the excess in Eric’s hair. 

All has dried and the used towels together with the raincoats decorate the bathtub wall. Eric walks to the kitchen as Juyeon tells him there’s soup and Y/n even out the flooded ends of the clothing. Turn around to face the mirror and walk out the door, she stands with her feet in touch with Juyeon’s and the separation between their faces, so trivial that one might condense in another's arm. 

At once, when her essence affects his own, he takes a step back and lifts his arms. There is no distance left and in an instant the cold sink hits his back and Juyeon lets out an ache. Y/n laughs silently and Juyeon turns from the floor up to her face that reeks of lucent perfection. 

“You look like a wet cat.” She laughs gently before reaching down the tub wall. Beside her calf rests an additional towel which she takes and casts over Juyeon’s head. 

Like the fringe of his, it ends just above his eyes and the pupils, infinite golden, look through the opening onto her. Juyeon slightly bends his head down and takes his shoulder closer to his own essence. He tries to hold his eyes open, onto her face that is so close for the first time in his life, but as she follows the wet trails, he closes his eyelids and convulses when she touches his skin down the neck. His head falls back and he whines slightly in which Y/n laughs. 

“Stop being sensitive, Juyeon.” She teases and her arms come above his shoulder and around his head to reach the hair furthest down. Her upper body closes in on his and where the cold water has fallen and fabrics cling onto his skin, he feels warmth. 

“Sorry…” Juyeon says weakly. The spotlights in the ceiling highlight the fragments of rose red around his cheeks. Her existence is so close to his own that he thinks they might merge. Somehow, he curiously opens his eyes to see her still damp hair, reminiscent of early spring. But has to close his eyes over and over. 

Three days outside the window have been in constant motion and the three of them are still in that apartment. Though, for each day Y/n has walked with Eric to school, more students turn attention in the early morning as she walks up the stairs to the second floor. As the pink notes come down to the table surface faster and faster, she has this sensation in her stomach. It grows during silence and when Eric’s at class. It turns into vague whispers and overpowers the ventilation in the right upper corner. It has her out the window and searching for the sun, but at the same time, there’s something so fascinating in watching how the students hold onto their friends as they disappear down the stairs. 

How lovely it is to come in so close contact with love, she thinks. Each sight has her desperately wishing for another and when she hits the arrows bow in two hearts, she runs to the other side to stand at the window front and watch how the world stops for only a second as they make eye contact for the first time. 

Though, as Eric told her. Whispers between the hallways and notes passed between seats. A single motion that sets the butterfly wings in action, spreads winds around the school and she thinks there is only a lone push before someone other than a student comes up the stairs and sees her. 

Y/n sits on the carpet in their apartment during friday afternoon. The warm lamp spreads its familiar light. She counts her bills and coins, and surely has started to build a small tower that goes beyond two centimeters over the flooring. Her palms lean to each side and impend above the paper and silver.  She coerces it all to a pile where the bended edges are in opposite directions. As all the flat slides lie together in her hand and she takes the paper bag, she feels a weight on her own shoulder. A warmth only created by another existence in this season. 

Y/n takes her sight up, onto the only enhanced in the lingering exhaustion of another turn around the world’s axis. At first impression of the scene beside her, she can only see his legs, like delicate lace in the orange light, but as chin touches his silk hair and the scent touches her face. Y/n sees the facial features from upon, the bridge of his nose in between the hair strands. 

Juyeon suddenly perk up. To meet eyes from different directions and see the faint shine in the inner corner from opposite perspectives. Y/n doesn’t speak, but her eyes search his own deeply and when nothing in them seems to gift her question, they follow the shadowed lines down his face to his lips. 

“I feel cold, Y/n.” The weight of his head becomes heavier. 

“I’m not that warm either.” She says gently, still with her hands on the pile. 

Whispers of the apartment and breathing from the alive city, details around them become louder. He finally sighs.

“I don’t know what to do…” His voice mirrors the weak body across her side. Juyeon’s eyes follow the dim corners where lamps can’t reach. Behind the table, against the paper thin wall to divide the bedroom, there is no outline of floor patterns or discolorations. The world sort of fades into that corner. Like the rest of the universe on a certain crossing, falls out of our sight.

Onto his empty chest where he thought nothing could ever reach again, a light pressure of palms to fingers, graze by the shirt before the whole palm encapsulates his sole heart. Juyeon slowly lets his eyes off the horizon at the end of the room and leans his head where her shoulder and neck ends. He watches how she scours his chest from above and feels her hand blur into the chest. 

“Heartbreak.” She hums softly and lets her hand cease over his heart. 

Juyeon still looks up, “You can feel it?” 

Y/n nods and turns to his eyes. The paper between her left hand, she lets them down onto the floor and pushes the rest of them to the side. Her free hand takes his head delicately and his weight off her shoulder. Juyeon complies with her tenderness until his head settle between her lap. His heart, moon touched, and slowly her fingers come in between his hair and in gentle motions brushes. 

To carefully not let his entire body weight on her physical bindings. Though, with that thought he still closes his eyes and feels the hemline of her midnight shirt brush against his cheek. The lids over his eyes open once again and he, in a careful state of trance, watches the slight knit between her eyebrows. His eyes, immense and illuminated, picks apart the features and tilts his head slightly, making the shirt come up her thigh. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks suddenly. Y/n locks eyes with him. Strands fall like rosen vines beside his head. 

Y/n turns back to his chest and stares in wonder over that spot underneath her hand. 

“It’s still very painful…it’s recent?” 

Juyeon lets the night echo along for a moment longer. Her hand in touch with the temperate fabric of his shirt, reaching for the deepest part of his own existence. It stays to be the most audible thing in the room. But somehow, there’s imminent, much greater weight bound between the ceiling and floor. He takes his eyes off her hand and falls back into the crater which her legs create. 

“It was a month ago.” He speaks in a same volume as the detailed city spreading from all directions and encompasses them. 

“She broke up with me, we had a lot of arguments. But we finally stood outside this apartment, and she told me that I don’t make her happy anymore.” Juyeon breathes in, “That there's no love left to give, its run dried.” His head falls to its side and her calf brushes against his cheek. 

How even the pictures from June, where the stone plates hidden in shadow wished to feel like winter as they ran past the piercing sunlight between the green leaves, aches his heart. All the Earth layers pass through him until he ends up at the very last. 

“Your heart hurts a lot, Juyeon.” She watches with knitted eyebrows, the invincible piercing feeling beneath her hand, spreads across her palm. She turns her eyes to him. The tension binding her features disappears slowly, cause; of his delicate expression, painted in care. Another passage of silence.

She whispers and tilts her head, “But you’ll be fine.” 

“I will?” He says with a low voice and immense eyes. 

Y/n closes her eyelids and opens them up again to take apart the faint layer of shine before the pupil. To lean in closer as to see the reflection grow clearer in the curvature.

“I can’t see why?” She tilts her head again before falling back into place, “But in the near future, your heart will heal.” 

He’s quiet for a second, “Are you sure?” 

Y/n nods and suddenly smiles. How the cold sensation of his sick heart falls into fragments when her fingers run through his strands. 

“I’m the love Goddess afterall.” 

The past days, the sun has done a heavy weather rotation around Earth in a perfect instant. Though, somewhere between night and day, the three of them realize it's time to evolve their business. Each dust accumulated over years in waiting has permanently varnished her clothes. The constant sequence of students that runs up the stairwell makes whispers in the hallways, rumors about the ‘woman in the abandoned classroom’ makes it out on student social media.

 Any moment, a post on one of the internet cafes will rise to the top, Eric told her one evening. Y/n uncomfortably took the sheets higher up her shoulders then, but he told her one could fear the inevitable curiosity towards her, or profit off it. His idea was to force the service out of the dusty school and that all three stand on a meeting point beside the city river. Eric sat beside her in the bed and threw off the covers to stand up. She watched how he took the loose pieces of his nightshirt and elongated them like what she assumed was wings. 

“And we’ll have costumes like real sellers do.” He said. 

“Will that really work?” She asked him with a skeptical expression, in which Eric jumped back into the bed. 

“Promise, back in first year of high school, we needed to sell cookies. My friend had a cookie monster costume on for two weeks straight while we told people to buy outside the mall.” 

Y/n’s quiet. 

“We sold the most of any in our class.” 

That night, Y/n didn’t really tell Eric that as long as the moon shines on Earth, there will be a constant light upon her, trailing her steps along the asphalt. That she has during this time, become a traitor of the heaven’s and time.

But because that night passed too, the three of them stand in the metropolitan mall. A city where everyone lives or wishes to. In the vertical path down to the opposite end of the white structure, they are. Glass windows with electric doors down every path and five floors that hound above them. Despite an seemingly endless amount of space, the marble floor is nearly invincible when shoes run like tidal waves above it. 

Y/n stands in trance with her head up to watch the banners come down on them from the highest floor. The golden light doesn’t cast itself like sunset as the artificial studio light leaves no corner hidden. But by a certain tilt of one's head, the heart of the light bulb, a shimmer closer to a star during night, reaches the pupil. 

“I know a good store.” Eric says and takes one step forward, “It’s not expensive there either-” 

Though Juyeon forces him to reverse as he reaches out his hand. Juyeon turns to see Y/n beside him, gaping at the high ceiling and he gently intertwines his other hand with hers. 

“You have your phone on, Eric?”

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“My ringtone gives me panic attacks, should we go or not?” 

“I-” 

“We don’t have all day!” Eric takes the lead by stepping into the crowd. Juyeon comes quickly after and naturally forces Y/n to stop staring at mall decorations. Two different entrances later and a desire to desperately rip off every last layer of clothing, the three of them stand in the store cluster which Eric pointed at. The youngest insists deeply on a store with massive red signs across the windows, indicating an illegally low price, meanwhile Juyeon argues back that it’s smarter to get actual costumes from the party-hell-store next door. 

Democracy isn’t on Eric’s side since Y/n stands with wide eyes, still with Juyeon’s hand in hers. Clearly she didn’t have much of an opinion as her answer when Eric tried to get her on his side was what the hell is a costume supposed to be? As Eric’s store windows had white tees and colored jeans, Juyeon pointed at a mannequin in hot dog costume. 

“They just have stupid stuff there.” Eric complains as they walk into the party store.

“You don’t have to choose the hot dog costume.” Juyeon answers. 

They reiterate the plan and pass the paper plates and party hats down the clothing aisle. Immediately, Juyeon walks to the corner and Y/n watches as Eric stops before her. 

“I want to be a devil.” Eric takes up the rectangular plastic bag. Y/n leans over and sees the model in an awkwardly cut suit, pants with way too tight seams that ends above the ankles, and, the cherry on top, a dejecting pair of plastic vibrant red devil horns.

“No one goes to the devil for love advice.” Y/n complains and continues down the aisle. At the furthest end of the costume section, Juyeon stands between the plastic bags. He holds two different ones, the right one he lifts up so that the spotlight in the ceiling shines atrociously on it. 

For every step she expects to see the awareness in his face as he looks to her side. But instead, he stands with a slight pout while still holding the plastic bag in front of his face. Y/n smiles as she’s a little less than a meter away. To lean on her toes to reach over, catch a glimpse of the front model. 

“Is this how I’m supposed to look?” Y/n tilts her head as she looks at the woman on the front wrapping of the fabrics. Synthetic wings falling off the back with an even cheaper shine over the arrow and bow. The little white dress is dull, though short as the hem ends mid thigh. 

“No, you’re prettier." His answer comes close at the end of her own sentence. His eyes aren’t on hers when he says it, he too looks at the model picture of the packaging. Y/n turns to look at him when his face is still in usual saturation and pout visible.

“Really?” Y/n tilts her head and can’t help but break into a smile. Juyeon looks up and views intertwine. That rose blush stains his skin once again and he scratches the back of his hair profusely. He takes a step back, laying his hands on her shoulders from behind. To turn her head to still watch him, he disappears from her sight and instead, feels a warm weight on her back. The waves of his voice perceive that spot beneath her hair when he speaks. 

“Go and try it on.” His voice is in faint volume as he starts pushing her shoulders gently. 

Y/n laughs, “Okay.” 

At the left direction he prod her, reside three high rectangles in row. Y/n opens the one closest to her and walks in. After she forces the curtain to divide, she hears Juyeon’s voice outside, ensued by a familiar whine. Y/n smiles for herself when the metal rings at the edge hit against the railing as Juyeon tries to force Eric in. 

At last, the velvet closes, and soon, the adjacent walls uncover. Juyeon stands a meter away, watches how Y/n lifts the fabric over her head and the hem takes some of her hair with it. Her feet stay serene, looking down her front while her fingers compress the chemical fibers. 

“I think it’s too big.” She looks up at him. Arms fall to its sides together with the flat line dress. Juyeon’s lips form to speak, but precisely, it intersects with Eric who extracts the curtain and walks out. The shirt reaches down his wrists and radiates an agonizing white shade, the pants, in same shade, drape over his legs. Lastly, the tiny wings and plastic bow in his hand. The halo in his hair sits tilted, folded at the center, beaming in the store light over his displeasure. 

Juyeon and Y/n are silent at the closing seconds of his entrance. But the visor alternate another minute and the two burst out laughing at the same time. Their silhouettes bend to the floor and cover their laughter with right hands. And if the knit between Eric’s eyebrows couldn’t get tighter, even his lips press harder. 

“But you look really cute, Eric.” Y/n coos and walks to him. The side of her palm perceives the veil over his shoulder. He looks down towards her, causes the halo to shake and Y/n laughs again. 

“I’m serious!” She takes the other hand, where she too has a bow, on his opposite shoulder. Eric lets the thin line on his lips loosen a little as Y/n assures him. Though he hears a giggle a meter away, shift to see Juyeon’s phone in their direction. 

“Hey!” The younger runs over to Juyeon who lifts the phone to the ceiling. The little plastic halo above his head flutters as he stands on tip toes while reaching for the screen. 

“No, it’s so good!” Juyeon still laughs and takes the phone behind his back. Eric is left with that same complexion of oddenment on his features as the two laughs. 

“I think it looks good.” Juyeon says after. He points at the ill fitting dress on Y/n but acknowledges Eric got the right size. He says they should go to Eric’s store and get a better white dress. 

“Aren’t you gonna dress up?” Eric throws at Juyeon. 

“You should too.” Y/n complains and points at him with the bow, “We look like idiots, you need to look like one too.” 

Juyeon glance the room and takes a step back, “But I didn't find any in my size.” He affirms with high arms.

“Bullshit, just be an ancient myth man.” Eric, deadpans. 

“There’s no myth man costume.” Juyeon says confused. 

“Then we make one.” 

-

“Isn’t this one lovely?” 

Juyeon looks up and sees Y/n between two racks of aisles. In her hands, a white baby blue dress that she puts against her front as if wearing it. The lace excess attached to the skirt and half length sleeves imitate her own twirls. 

The coloration with his hands falls to the sides as she looks up towards him. Her eyes fixated on him after her question. Juyeon opens his mouth, but takes a breath and his free hands come up the back of his neck. Scratching lightly as he looks towards another aisle with transparent bags. Groups of young girls run past them and he shakes his head, therefore, the fringe comes before his eyes, making his pupils hide in between shadows of his strands. 

“It’s really pretty.” He says shyly and smiles, takes a step closer and forces his chin up a bit higher, “You’re really pretty in it.” 

Y/n takes her palm towards the stomach of the dress and looks down, “You’re honest?” She laughs. 

The hand quickly falls off his skin and top the side of his thigh. The pink coloration saturated into his cheeks are still in full view, but his lips turn pressed and downward. Just as his eyes grow wider and he eagerly nods his head. The strands of his hair follow those precisions and he continues to speak while it falls further. 

“You are.” He repeats in a clear tone which makes her laugh again. 

“Okay, then, I believe you.” 

-

Once the afternoon stood on its last hours, all three had found their costumes. Y/n in a white dress that accumulates at the writs where it tights into a ribbon before the remaining fabric folds out like a flower. It sat under the paper poster for the early spring collection. Juyeon got a shirt in a similar edition. The details on both sort of seamlessly intertwine. When taking a quick look in the passing window stores, the two seem to share sensibility. And then of course, Eric as a baby cupid. 

Juyeon’s hair was in need of a change since the shirt alone couldn’t disclose the intentions behind. He suggested a lovely braid to form around his head, though, neither of the three knew how to braid. Because of that, they sat forty five additional minutes at the mall beside different baby strollers. Juyeon had searched up a braid tutorial, held it before his face, Beside him sat Y/n on her knees and constantly switched from looking at his hair and screen. The result was of partial essence from the original, and with a yellow bouquet they bought before walking, Juyeon looks rather like a flower boy at a wedding than fantastical character. 

At the center of a meeting platform before the river, they stand in line. The yellow flowers together with the synthetic wings on their backs are taken by the wind. Youth in close knitted groups and couples walking hand in hand pass by the metal railing and the bridge connecting to the opposite side. All three have a box of their own and with a breath or two, they separate from the mit and walk over the frozen concrete paving in late afternoon. 

As the unknown always has people afraid, not many notes land in the bottom of their boxes. But as the sun comes down the sky and closes in on the rooftops, people their age become intrigued by the enchantment and put their name together with a bill. As such, pictures of plastic wings spread around corners of the internet with rumors about the magic. 

- 

As the person before her walks to the left, Y/n waves gently as their figure becomes another someone in the crowd. With no close frame in sight, the sun that edges on the horizon, spreads its pink coloration above her vision. Her hand holds the box as a wind comes from the right direction of the city and intertwines itself into her hair. The white fabric of the sheer skirt touches against her skin and the plastic wings lean towards the bridge. And as if the wind became gifted, to affect the significance, a clear pathway towards the edge of the river opens up. 

How both the start and end of a bridge captures in a total frame. The dividing sides of the city in opposite parts of her rectangular vision. Y/n takes a breath and lets the setting sun in final clear sky complete the hues on her face.

When her eyes arrange the disposition and total focus settles onto a silhouette. Y/n’s grip around the box falters and the incoming wind might take the rest of her essence with it this time. The cheap chiffon fabrics wrapped around his body shines of white, just as his close orbit. Though the pigment, only parts of his features stand in highlight as the rest in shadow from the rosy hue above. 

Y/n moves her head suddenly, forcing the loose strands before her eyes to fall towards the side profile. Slowly she takes a step down the clear path, follows the lines in between frozen cracks to where he leans over the railing. Juyeon has his eyes set on a vague point on the horizon. When she, too, stands beside him, she follows the imaginative line of his pupil and fails to make out the disoriented city lines. 

Y/n turns to him, “I haven’t asked you yet.” 

Juyeon turns to her with vast eyes. 

“If you want to write a name.” She holds the pink cardboard box out for him. Her hand shortens distance, but there is still a void to be completed. He stands silent. Let each passing conversation fill that space up until it becomes vague from another direction. The motions in the river, it comes up against the stone they stand on before changing tide. Juyeon looks at Y/n and smiles like he always does as he shakes his head gently. 

She tilts her head. Curiously wander to the pupil of his eye and search for entrance into his mind, but there’s nothing to open. With his aching heart underneath his throat, Y/n expected a certain answer from him, an answer most humans would give. She smiles as wonder entrances her mind when thinking about his own. 

“Okay.” Y/n answers in her usual tone. Take the box back to her own side and like Juyeon, let a part of her weight lean against the metal railing. 

A couple walks them by, hand in hand towards the other bridge in far sight. Juyeon follows them until the color of their shirts fades in between the others. His eyes fall back on Y/n’s frame. Her profile towards the reflection in the water and he contemplates in silence before asking. 

“What happens to all the names people write down?”

Y/n faces him as the question spreads into all directions over the river surface, and when it maybe reaches the opposite end, Y/n stops to tilt her head. 

“They fall in love…or what do you mean?” She knits her eyebrows. 

Juyeon shakes his head and smiles. Watch the scenery behind him where the buildings soar above the open platform and lovers walk hand in hand. Eric sits on a bench, further away, with a stranger probably his own age by the parallel complexion. 

“Do they just fall in love forever or…” to attentively consider details of expressions and body language, his own skin brushes against the cold railing.

“No, they don’t” Y/n shakes her head. 

“Most will probably fall out of love in a week or so…” The curves of her lips have become amicable, he remarks, when Y/n looks at him.

“Maybe one or two couples go on for some months.” 

Juyeon tilts his head, arm over the railing and the weight of his body advances onto it. The flicker between the colors of his eyes reaches for another one, just like it. But at the edge of finding it, she turns her chin down where waves return from the stone, and another wind pulls fabrication before their sight. 

“Why?” He asks curiously. 

Y/n purses her lips in. Her essence stands on physical space but the fragments of thoughts, collecting her being, solely wanders somewhere else. 

“I don’t know why.” The tone is disheartening, “I wish I knew too.” 

“You don’t?” he says surprised, “You’re the love God.” 

“Yeah,” She smiles, “but I’m not good at being one.” 

“Is that’s why you’re here?” He asks gently after silence. 

Y/n’s quiet and completely still for a moment before nodding without giving him a glance. 

“People are getting heartbroken all the time and aren’t finding love, and I can’t figure out why.” She pauses, “Mother’s angry at me.” Y/n lets her chin fall onto the railing and she leans over the cold metal and watches the sun go behind the horizon. 

“I don’t want to live like that, especially since I can’t even do the only thing I was created for.” 

Another silent passage in time, she speaks again. 

“And your breakup last month was probably also because of me.” She looks at him with a smile but eyes of starshine, on the edge of its own death, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“It is.” 

“There’s eight billion people, that’s a lot to put on one person.” 

She looks at him, still leaning on the railing.

“I mean, one being.” He corrects. 

Y/n smiles again in which he too does. 

“You know, for humans you’re never perfect at first try.” He looks out over the river, “For all the professionals, more than talent, they train over and over again.” She looks at him and he stutters while scratching his neck. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” He squints, “Practice makes perfect, you’ve never experienced human life until now, of course it’s confusing.” He pauses and takes a step closer. The view of him comes higher up.

“If you want, I can help you.” Another wind passes, while the same rose color against the sky transmits over to his cheeks.

“Teach you what human love is like,” When she still isn’t speaking he takes a irregular breath, “I’ve had two girlfriends before, a lot of dates, I’m very experienced so you don’t have to-” 

“Okay, I want you to teach me.” Y/n laughs. He closes his mouth once he realizes the diffuse pace of wording. Though, smiles as her clothes strive free with the next breeze. Juyeon’s relieved as Y/n has visibly fallen interested in a shape at the other end. Only in need of his voice to affirm the color, not his red stained warm cheeks.

To a change of a digit by the “Sunday '' written on the phone. Y/n opens her eyes to see morning filtrate through the curtains. Her hands come behind her posture to force herself off the layers of cloth. At Eric’s bed at the other end of the same corner, he lies spread out in total absence. His face is buried within the pillow and his right leg has fallen off the bed and touches the floor. 

Without any sort of considerable intentions, Y/n looks down beside the bed. The thin mattress is still out with an imprint among the creases of the sheet. Despite being devoid of any life, a trail of essence aviates above it. The disarray of plates stacking comes from the open kitchen. Y/n looks towards the window and sees Juyeon roaming through the shelves. 

She herself lets the covers come off her body and accumulate beneath the pillows. With each one of her steps, a creak course through the flooring. With the ceasing distance in intervention, Juyeon feels the faint change on the spot he stands on when her presence comes closer. He looks away from the shelf and sees Y/n, her right hand is up before her eye and he smiles like he always does to her. 

“Good morning, Y/n.” 

“Good morning,” She answers in a quiet tone. 

“Did you sleep well, Angel?” He asks while he lets his head fall down to the counter as he groups in spoons and chopsticks. Y/n blinks a few times and stares at his side profile as he opens the cabinet beneath. 

“Angel?” She tilts her head and Juyeon looks back at her. 

“Yeah, Angel?”“I always used Love, but I think you fit Angel better.” 

“Oh, okay.” She tilts her head still and squints her eyes at his frame. He seems to detail that there’s something still left to be said, so he looks back at her again. 

“Am I supposed to call you something too or?”

She asks him with genuine perplexity and he remembers again, that she’s not human. He smiles. How magical, he thinks, that someone that bears on enchantment and bliss to change his state of life in seconds, stands before him. Juyeon has never really believed in gods, even now he isn’t particularly drawn to religion, but Y/n in her otherworldly enchantment but relatable demeanor seems to come beyond any sort of devotion. 

“Only if you want. It’s called pet names, it's common between couples.” 

Her eyes widen, “People see each other as pets? Like those dogs they’re out walking?” Y/n gestures with her hand onto the floor. The new information is rather unsettling, how much of the human love she didn’t understand, she thinks. 

Juyeon laughs and comes closer to her, “No.” He takes his hands onto her shoulders while her eyes are still appalled. 

“Or some couple out there probably. "But not most.” 

“Why pet names?” 

He thinks, “I don’t know, it’s cute? Pets are cute, so you’re cute.” 

“Okay.” Y/n seem to only half accept his explanation. 

“Can I still just call you Juyeon?” She asks. 

“You can,” He pouts, “Though, no one has ever given me a pet name.” 

She smiles, “No one?” 

“I always ask them to give me one, but they don’t.” He sulks. 

“I like your name, it’s pretty. I think it fits you.” 

The picture before her, as she’s still in his hands. The sprout from which his hair blossoms, faces her, but in the ending sequence of her sentence, his face comes up in height with hers. The sulk, seized by the floor. He smiles again in which she tilts her head. 

“You’re really simple, Juyeon.” She laughs and takes a step back. By the nature of the motion, his hands fall off her shoulders. Juyeon stands in vertical posture once again and concentrates on the ends of his lips, so as to not pout again. 

“I’m not.” He says quietly. Before he turns his head back to the counter, though, Y/n catches the remote sulk formed underneath his nose. 

Sometimes through the hits against the counter surface and pans, they hear Eric turn sideways and wrap his body in another round of fabrics. She looks from the cutting board to the beds and Juyeon notices. He tells her that there is no use in low volume, that the entire building could start shaking and his consciousness would not move an inch closer to its physical state. 

As he stands beside her and goes between the stove and cutting board to show her how to cut the vegetables. The broth in the pot simmers, damp heat comes up in his face and spreads onto the metal spoon as he brings it down. Juyeon tastes the broth first before taking it down a second time. He holds his free hand underneath the spoon and turns to Y/n’s. Her hair has fallen before that side of her face. Only when those strands come to the back of her ear, she looks away from the white plastic and towards Juyeon. 

Being conditioned to fall back, Y/n leans away from his close hands. Sees a single steam grow like rosen stems during spring, Juyeon comes closer to the spoon and blows on it. Y/n’s eyes are small when they intertwine with his own. 

“Try it.” He says in his sweet voice. 

“Can’t I just…” The free hand on her other side hesitantly reaches for the spoon. 

“I’ll feed you.” 

Her face turns to the left as if to gesture him a no, but when he looks at her with those pearl glance eyes. Y/n sighs and leans forward. His hand comes under her chin and he helps her by tilting the spoon a little. Y/n’s own hand comes up to Juyeon’s who holds it before she returns to her own place. 

“It’s good.” 

-

Eric left the cramped apartment soon after eating. The sun’s out the entirety of the weekend and his friends had sent messages all night to meet on Sunday. Y/n went to bed again after eating, lying on the outer side and with the sheets at the very end of the bed. She stares up at the ceiling, watches hidden shadows in patterns. Though, steps on the floor cross onto the carpet and soon after, she feels the weight on the mattress shift. Y/n turns to look at the change, and when her cheek falls into the pillow, Juyeon’s eyes are there to meet. 

Y/n sits up and takes one of her legs off the height, but Juyeon takes her arm. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I thought you wanted to lie here?” 

“No, I wanted to be here because you were.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s comfortable.” He smiles, “Couples do it all the time.” 

“Are you serious, or are you just using that as an excuse because I let you teach me about human romance?” She squints his eyes at him, in which Juyeon forces his head from the mattress and reaches his hand out for her upper arm. He shakes his head while laughing quietly, reiterating that he speaks truth. Y/n can’t keep the stale expression when he smiles so deeply and the pillow pushes his hair closer to his face. Eventually she lets his arm pull her down fully again. 

“Do people just lie like this?” Her hands rests over her stomach where the ruffles of the shirt accumulate. A tilt of her head in a direction closer to his existence, but nowhere in full sight does she get a glimpse of even a hair strand, just the ceiling in sunlight from the curtains. 

“Sometimes.” Juyeon answers. He turns his head fully and so does Y/n. Their chin rests on the light blue stripes, folded where the weight are. 

“Sometimes it’s very comforting doing nothing with the one you love.” 

“Why?” 

Juyeon takes his hands in between the pillow and his chin, “Love needs no words.” His voice is gentle, passing her ears like the faint brush of the new washed sheets against her upper calf. A vague nod comes from her side as they still look at each other.

Juyeon suddenly breathes a little stronger, “But other times we do this.” 

Y/n doesn’t get to high her eyebrows or part her lips. The hands underneath his chin forces his weight off the pillow and Y/n feels him lean towards her side. He sits up fully and in the same duration from her eyelid closing and opening, Juyeon has taken his hands down her arms and neck, fervently tickling her. 

The expression of confusion painted by her features turns to a desperate smile as she tries to escape his attack. To kick her leg onto the sheets beneath her and shout Juyeon’s name as his laugh becomes louder for every centimeter the fabric falls down the bed. To not let her escape, Juyeon unconsciously sets his knee on the other side of her body. Her figure stays in between his own frame as she falls deeper down the pillow. 

“Juyeon, stop, I’m serious!” Y/n laughs in panic. 

Eventually his hands come to rest beside her upper arms and the laughter turns to heavy breathing. Juyeon faces from above, still smiling, as Y/n lies with the side of her face against the pillow. That until she stares at him, while fully hidden between his own complexion. Each of her breaths comes to him like the green leaves during spring. Just as the incident, the rose color of flowers in small sprouts bloom on the side of his face. Y/n looks down from his eyes, just one centimeter in distance to see the saturation. She smiles again. 

“You’re always so red, Juyeon.” 

Juyeon takes his head further against his chest to hide it, but there is no use. She laughs lightly as his hair falls before his eyes and he is forced to shake his head when he comes back up. They look in silence at each other's features. Mere sunlight comes in between the thin curtains and cats itself over the shadows. Dust from the sheets cease between the space and Juyeon leans in a bit closer. The shine in her pupil comes all the higher in her coloration as his lips are above hers. 

“I’m sorry.” He speaks gently. 

Y/n laughs again and shakes her head. Seconds cruelly pass them where they lay enchanted in white-blue sheets. The sounds of folding fabric beside her ears, without visual frame she imagines a butterfly at the breaking of dusk, to spread its wings before full sun. But truly, it’s purely, without decorations, Juyeon’s hands beside her body that flutter at the closing distance between them. 

He who always leaves a space in between, Juyeon lets his head fall closer to hers. The pace is incredibly cruel, but so sympathetical, as he stops where they can see each other’s flaws and their breath dampens the other's lips. Time stands so pianfully still when he waits for Y/n to say or do anything. He looks into her eyes, searches for something, but she tries to use the parted distance between her lips but nothing comes out. 

There’s a sort of apprehension somewhere between all of her physical essence. But it dies with every second. In the dilemma playing faintly before her eyes, in the background she sees Juyeon’s eyes come further away from hers. The sensation of guilt and fear were on the verge of death, and fall flat line in an instant. As to desperately not make him disappear, Y/n takes her hands up from her sides. Juyeon gasps quietly when gently holding his face. 

And at last, when she takes him back to her, Juyeon lets his weight on his hands shift to his right knee as their lips collide. Y/n falls a centimeter further into the stripes of the pillow case. It creases at the edges. The pattern changes in structure when Juyeon brings his knee up a bit further. In a boundless room devoid of sounds, the kiss lingers between the four walls. 

As Juyeon gently takes his tongue out for hers, Y/n trace the lines of his features up to his hair. Their mouths are just a little open when she intertwines her hand through his strands. The tips of his fingers scratch against the surface. Through the slight space in between their lips, Juyeon whines. It trails through her clothing and hearten her hand to force the strands tighter around her skin to hear him again. 

And as they encourage the other to fall in closer, the room that had been detached from space and time comes back. The door echoes through the apartment and folds of clothing come after. Before any footsteps close into the kitchen, Y/n’s hands fall back to the mattress and Juyeon throws himself off his arms and lands on his previous place. When Eric comes into the kitchen and lets his eyes span over the details he sees everyday, he stops at their bed. Arms completely down their sides and face up against the ceiling. Eric knits his eyebrows. 

“Are you trying to teach Y/n magic tricks?” Eric asks. 

Juyeon lifts his head from the pillow to look at him. 

“Don’t even try, she’s literally immortal.” Eric goes to the sink and takes a cup. 

“I didn’t even-” Juyeon defends. 

“I’m not immortal?” Y/n cuts Juyeon off by lifting up her head in the same manner to look at Eric. He’s already on his second glass of water. 

“You know what I mean, mythical creature and the unfunniest person alive.” Eric smiles. 

“I think I’m funny.” Juyeon defends and turns his head to look at Y/n. 

“I’m funny?” 

Y/n laughs a little as he looks at her with vast eyes, “When you try not to; yes.” 

He pouts and turns the other way, in which Y/n laughs fully. To turn her own silhouette and let her free hand reach out for his shoulder. 

- 

Y/n takes her legs off the mattress. It creaks when she stands fully on the carpet and it faintly lingers when she walks out the kitchen and further down the hallway. Juyeon, who lies beside her, compels to feet and without any obligatory commands, starts walking after. Y/n looks behind her once to see him trail the invincible steps along her. She takes the bathroom handle and looks at him again. He stands close to the opposite wall, right eye wearied. And the scene, in static vision for another passage, until Y/n tilts her head and asks him;

“Are you coming with me in or?” 

Even with a question fully spoken in between the takes, Juyeon looks at her with the expression he always has. But like February into March in reversion, his eyes widen and he takes a step back. Juyeon says something Y/n can’t decide if it were comprehensible words. When in no trance, he disappears from the hall, out the kitchen and back onto the bed. She knits her eyebrows while staring at the serene flooring before she closes the bathroom door. 

Eric sits in his bed with his phone, but tears his eyes off the screen when Juyeon comes back after only a minute. The older pays no intention of looking to the side and Eric sees him shaking his head before falling onto the mattress. The short video clip on his phone rewinds again as he smiles for himself. 

“I never knew you would be such an attention seeker when your girlfriend left.” Eric looks towards Juyeon. He has his arms crossed over his chest while in his own corner of the world. 

“I’m not.” Juyeon protests. 

Eric snorts which makes Juyeon look at him, “Yeah, and I’m Jacob Elordi.” 

The younger scrolls to the next short clip before talking again, “Come on, you can’t even be two meters away from her. I see how your arm twitches of starvation from her just being in the bathroom.” 

Juyeon takes his hands from his chest, letting them spread out before the background, “They’re not at all.” 

He takes the phone in his other hand, rises so that the sheets fall off his upper body. Eric lifts the pillow higher before he falls down to feathers again and watches the blue light radiate off his screen. 

“Either way, I support your future marriage with Y/n, I could even be the flower boy.” 

“We’re-I-” He stutters and looks at Eric who snickers at the screen, “I just think she’s nice.” 

Eric refrains from throwing more comments across the room. Instead continues to mindlessly consume the massive subtitles on screen. Soon after when the bathroom door opens, the audio from Eric’s phone has rewinded across twenty times and Juyeon walks up to his edge. Eric lies with eyes closed and lips slightly apart while his hand with the device hangs off the bed. Juyeon pushes the turn off button and it becomes quiet in the apartment. 

As Y/n walks across the kitchen area, Juyeon straightens his posture. A sudden burn comes between his throat as he looks down. The fingers of his right hand touch the spot that grows with itch. The sensation makes him want to further reach his hand through the skin and scratch what bothers. He coughs when Y/n comes to the line crossing the kitchen and bedroom. 

“You’re okay, Juyeon?” 

Juyeon turns from the corner where Eric lies and sees Y/n with her head tilted. He coughs again before facing her fully. 

“Yeah, I must catched a cold or something.” He reassures. 

That afternoon, evening boundary, pink encloses orange in softly curved patterns. How the sunset at the very peak of its livelihood, soon will bleach from the celestial and leave nothing but those stars holding hands in constellations to remind us that it was there. And as it shines over the edge of the river, hangs lowly over the open square, Y/n walks over to Eric sitting alone on one of the seats at the center of the open space. A passing wind intertwines like ribbons through their hair, braid them in irregular patterns before letting go. Eric feels the essence of another identity under the collapsing sun enter his field. 

He looks beside his left shoulder and sees Y/n smiling, though, it might just be the sunset, but there’s a whimsical bearing to her expression in plastic wings. 

“I realized you haven’t written a name.” He turns focus from her eyes down to the pink box as she holds it close to him. 

“You don’t have anyone you like?” She asks. 

Eric’s quiet for a second, but ultimately shakes his head. Her silhouette stands in contrast to the setting sun. Each shine streak runs into the river and reflects like a horizontal mirror. The outline of her shoulders divides the flicker, causing him to squint. Y/n herself let the box fall onto her thighs. When another wind comes, a short lived reflection on his hair passes by. Cupid tilts her head and observes his features. A visible lack of emotion and eyes on a dead tree. Another group of people walk down the river and Y/n smiles again. 

“Seems like it.” She says. 

Eric suddenly asks, “Can you write down someone else’s name? Two people you want to be together?”

She looks at the box then back at him, “Usually no, but I’ve already interfered in enough lives.” Y/n takes up the pen and pink paper, “Try.” 

Eric takes the pastel note and presses the synthetic end on his palm. When he gifts it to her, he sees her smile grow wider as she reads it. Eric’s lips too, like a wildflower during the incoming flourish season, grow as she laughs a little. On the piece of paper stands two names, Y/n and Lee Juyeon. She let it descend down the thin opening of the box. While still looking down at the space created by cardboard, she speaks. 

“That won’t work, though.” Y/n speaks gently. 

Eric tilts his head suddenly, keeping his hands at the edge of the bench. 

“Why?” 

“I’m not human, right?” She still smiles, but Eric’s has withered. 

“I don’t understand, gods and humans can’t be together?” 

Y/n shakes her head, “No” She shifts in her place, “It’s just, the rules don't work as they normally do, it might end up bad.” 

“Like what?” 

“Just bad, not fun…it’s not important.” Y/n takes her hand before her face, standing up and locks eyes. 

“Juyeon will be fine.” 

For days closest to present, that itch at the very bottom of his throat has become stronger. Each night he touches the spot where it hurts the most, and his fingers trails higher for every night. The other day Juyeon surrendered and went to the pharmacy. He took coughing medicine, but at last he stands before the hand sink, throwing lilac flower petals. The first time, he stood perplexed and backed away until his calf hit the tub. 

At the same time, he thinks about what Eric said to him, that day of the kiss. While the hours pass them by he always finds himself having music on or cleaning dishes, searching for job applications. Cause, when neither of them are with him, and there is little to no sound to surround him, those scenes play before him. 

It was night and he turned to the other side of the floor. He searched coughing flower petals. In immediate blue links, informative paragraphs describe the cases of physical effects of a yearning heart. The pictures showed strangers with flowers in shades scattered over white sinks. His heart picked up pace before he shut off his phone and forced his eyes closed. He has the love goddess beside him to lead him, but it only aches to think that he stands alone at the edge of the bridge, longing for the other end when it doesn’t reciprocate. At midnight, he’s forced to accept his heart's admiration for Y/n. He refuses to let the knife remove the love out of his body, instead, begs in moonlight for fate to spare them. 

- 

There’s a gentle touch over his head. It reverses before it comes back. A sharp point between his hair strands and further down where his neck starts. As his eyes are still closed and mind in a different dimension, he doesn’t register how he slowly starts to lean towards the touch every time it disappears. Eventually, the moonlight cast at the other wall becomes apparent and he sees Eric’s silhouette beneath it. It shines of city lights in the furthest window above the kitchen. 

Behind him, he hears soft creases of fabric lines. It comes from the material in his own bed, but his arms are at the front side. There’s a faint opening between his eyelids and he feels the touch linger down his cheek until it trails to his chin. It tickles when it gently outlines his nose. Once Juyeon opens his eyes fully, he tries to look up. On that side of him, a startled motion comes between the soft folds and the warmth on his face stills. 

All shadows leisurely adjust and he makes out the room. But in that space, left of his mattress and frame of carpet sits Y/n. He recognizes her features in turned axis shimmer and traces her upper arm down to her hand on his face. She still caresses his cheek when they look at each other. When Juyeon takes his hands to either side and forces himself up, the fabric sounds violent as a shadow covers the cast on the wall. He watches how she quickly makes her way out the kitchen. 

He can’t describe why, when his mind is half asleep and his body cold of the thin fabrics. Though, he does fully take off from the mattress and follows her. He sees her figure disappear through the bathroom door and when she stands to see her reflection in the mirror, Juyeon leans his hand on the edge of the door. Y/n looks at him when he walks in. There’s a meter in between them, and she tries to keep the same distance as he closes the door gently and walks forward. 

At some point, her back hits the cold wall and Juyeon, with some space still separating them, reaches for her left hand off her side. Y/n’s quiet when he brings it to the blossom of his head. He leans down so that she subtly makes out the shadows beneath his fringe. Juyeon gently ushers her hand to mirror those motions from a minute ago. Where the whole cityscape stands in silence, the clearest thing spoken through the barrier is the sigh of relief Juyeon does when her hand reaches his neck. 

He lets his knee rest where the divide forms between her own. How his soft breaths affect her own person. Cause eventually Juyeon separates his hand from hers as she on her own starts to touch his hair. For each caress along the silk, her palm continues deeper onto his neck. At last, her fingers reach where the collar of his shirt starts. To be touched even faintly in a place unaffected for so long, he whines. His head that faces the floor lands underneath her chin. The cheap shampoo reaches her nose and his breath dampens the spot above her collar. 

The ends of his hair scratches against her skin and, by consequence, her other hand comes to the center where his shoulder and neck meet. 

With the door closed, there’s no light source from any of the quiet corners. But for each breath they both take, he becomes all clearer. His face is buried underneath her while his body leans as close. The contrast of the painfully cold wall and the heat spreading from his essence. It’s so deeply attractive in her eyes, how he folds when she reaches her fingers a step further down his shirt. The quiet whimpers get muted in her neck. She desperately wants to hear it again, the hand from his shoulder and outlines his neck up to his chin where she lets her thumb caress the skin before coming back down to the shoulder. 

“Y/n, fuck.” He moans cruelly onto her skin. It creates some free room between her hand and his shoulder when he falls down to his knees. The warmth that has accumulated above her chest, turns instant cold when there is no barrier before the grading temperature. 

Her eyes naturally follow his own which are locked on the edge of her sleeping wear. Where the muted pattern convulse into each other and a harsh line before her own skin. Juyeon timidly takes his fingers onto that edge. All warmth in his body rushes to the inner parts, there is nothing but cold on his fingertips when they for a moment touch beneath her stomach. Juyeon looks up, the color in his eyes comes through the fringe and his hand flexes when holding onto her sleeping wear. 

“I want to-can I?” He stutters profusely while looking into her eyes. It’s not enough light for the pigment on his upper face to reflect back into Y/n’s own vision. He looks away and faces the wall of the bathtub. 

Y/n’s own chest has started to pick up pace while a limited gap between her lips forms to afford it. The lid on her eyes closes and opens profusely as he refuses to state the expression on his face. The inpatient motions with the urge to not look at her, she desperately wants him to say it when her mind runs to try to comprehend it. 

“Sorry, Juyeon, I really don’t understand.” 

Her hand still in laces with his own essence starts to gently advance across the back of his head again. He sighs when she reaches a sensitive spot down his neck and brings his head back. It affects her mind deeply so that her own physical state falls on the wall behind her and shifts her right leg. 

“Please, I want to make you feel good.” He holds his head high to maintain the contact. The fabric of her shorts comes tighter around her waist when he pulls it again. 

“I want to lick your…” He whispers to her, in a volume equal to the sounds coming from her hands in his hair. Y/n nearly reaches down to mute his words, but the desire to shift her leg again blinds those thoughts and she nods. 

“I want you too, Juyeon.” 

Her words seem to have freed the chain off him and gently lets the two layers of fabric touch her thighs down to her calves. Juyeon takes his own hand up her waist and the other around her left leg. To carefully, as if made out of velvet he forces her up onto his shoulder. Y/n tears her eyes away from him and falls head against the cold hard wall when goes in between her thighs. The soft changes in direction from his tongue and the careful advances as he watches her reactions from below. 

The hand on his hair becomes tighter when the sensation goes inside her two walls for even a second. There’s constant shame as she lets him completely mend the soar spots with a part of his existence. She can’t tell if Juyeon feels it too, but to never let her eyes be open for more than a second, because when her head falls onto the wall and her eyes stare up the ceiling. An invisible but cruel rain falls onto her from above, a circle of faces from her youth watches how one of their own crumbles before a human. 

“Juyeon.” 

She strokes his head once again and Juyeon closes his own eyes. Y/n has been forcing her lips shut of fear to hear her own sounds echo in between the walls. But at last, when he grips onto her calf a bit stronger and the end of his hair brushes up against her thighs, a cry of pure bliss comes between her lips while her hips move forward. Juyeon continues with his lips to let the sensation gently fade. 

Y/n breathes heavily while still leaning onto the wall. Juyeon comes up from the floor and lies one hand on her shoulder. With eyes closed, reminiscent of weekend morning when her own self is far from the body, lovely gathered in his worn down sheets. How Juyeon solely comes closer to make the pixels of her features clearer and discover the secret appearance, one who is only this close can make out. 

Y/n finally opens her eyes and there is barely a distance between them. Juyeon has let go of the space and has his entire front against her own. There’s a firmer impression in contrast to the rest of his body. It pushes onto her lower stomach in timid motions. Her arms embrace herself as she smiles and laughs suddenly. 

Juyeon lets out an embarrassed laugh and forces his head under her chin again. A faint ‘no’ escapes, barely audible, which causes her own eyes to look over the line in which his hair grows. And she forces him from her chest just a little. His sight is still in lock with the floor and Y/n laughs again. 

“I’ll do it now.” 

As she takes his hand, directs to the bathtub and pushes him gently down the cold material. Whatever’s left of the world becomes merely a singular. When the last lights of the cityscape passes through the visual horizon at the end of the universe, Y/n lets herself on top of him fully and takes her hands onto his face while staring in deep adoration with no sense of responsibility. 

Truly she feels her heart pick up a pace she never thought was possible when creating friction onto them both with easy advances of her hips, and the back of his head falls against the edge. With no other light visible, a single star burns off in the upper left corner when he opens his right eye to look at her. 

Juyeon feels the fabric enclose him painfully underneath her and he moans desperately. To force himself up from the edge, he holds his hands on the sides of the tub and comes precisely under her own lips. Y/n continues to fall back in motion while Juyeon tilts his head up to take her lips. Tension tears off like two desperate sides of a rubber band and Juyeon takes his hands on her hips. To take his knee up higher to force her chest closer to his own. 

Behind the door, there's nowhere to go, he wishes for them to continue being in this place, this emotion. 

Juyeon trails hands up to her waist. To get on his knees and gently make her come in contact with the white tub. Her hair spreads out the sides of the curvature and his mouth comes agape when he watches her eyes, in what he hopes is at least brief adoration. 

Once again he puts his hips into her own. Timidly pushes against her through all the layers of fabric and breathes out. Y/n lifts her own leg up to make room for the climbing friction between them. Juyeon sighs and lets his head fall down, in which Y/n takes her hands through his hair and moans. 

She can see his expression, and he looks as divine as he sounds. She soothes the side of his head and tilts her head before whispering. 

“Juyeon?” 

He moans again and pushes his hips harder into hers. 

“My name sounds lovely when you say it.” He pauses to breathe again, “Please say my name again?” 

Y/n swallows and the pupil of her eye comes in between him, the friction soon the wall behind them. So quietly but still enough so he can hear how she calls his name again. 

“Juyeon…” 

A pleasure hits him through his spine and he moans again while holding onto nothing with his other arm. The constant humping makes her not glide down the bathtub and when he carelessly starts pushing his hips against her, at a pace faster than before. Y/n takes her hand from her side and forces it into the small space between them. He throws his head back when the layers of fabric come tightly against him. In nearly instant, Juyeon fucks his hips into the cloth in her palm. 

Y/n doesn’t take her eyes off as she’s determined to see him fall down and rests on her chest. 

“Y/n…” 

She answers in melody. 

“I need to see you come, all undone for me.” 

As the shorts and underwear lie serene on the carpet beside them, her head falls to the edge. Her hand comes to his face and he takes the hem of his pants off as he misses her. Though it aches with impatience, Juyeon’s eyes shimmer in hands, cupped by Y/n. Every motion he does in pleasure, as if handcrafted. It sores from watching him wither above. Y/n nods again, whispers to please see him wilt in cause of her. 

He fills her completely when they come as close as possible. The first thrusts are painfully slow as he edges on relief but desperately wants to feel her warmth. Y/n urges him to fasten the pace as she falls down the wall. He holds his eyes on Y/n like she will save him as he thrusts harder. 

“Please, Y/n, you look so beautiful.” His legs twitch, “I need to see you…” 

His words falter as she cries out for a second time. He slows down in pace, staying amidst the warmth as the high washes over her. On precise edge, Y/n takes her hand onto the material and forces herself off him. Though the pleasure still affects her, she reaches her hand out where it hurts the most. She strokes him just merely. Juyeon’s eyes are closed and he cries from pleasure and wet stains her skin. The sight of him desperately saying her name and convulse in pure bliss might live on for an eternity. He continues with slow motions in her hand, moving the stains up the rest of her hand before the wave falters. 

Juyeon gently descends his head beside hers. The right arm out of the pushing under his weight and he lies it underneath her head. The two of them close their eyes while listening to their breath echo throughout the bathroom. 

Though, as the world comes back into place and Y/n opens her eyes to see the ceiling, she thinks about the windows outside. It goes chills through her essence when she looks at a the ventilator. Juyeon’s breathe are soft on the side of her face and she still console his hair. She desperately wants to lie beside him for as long as time lets them. Turn her face to see his blissful features look back at her own. 

But for every second, reality moves closer. How her escape from above might put him once again in pain. The scene from when Eric put their names on his note comes back to her in a form of a distant but cold wave. 

Fate doesn’t have them, she thinks before sitting up. The change in atmosphere comes suddenly to Juyeon who lifts his upper body when she climbs out the tub, takes on her cloth and goes to the door. 

“Where are you going?” She obscene herself before turning. He sits like she left him and the withered shine in his eyes that yearns for her burns the side of her heart. Y/n puts her other hand on the handle and looks down without a clear expression. 

“I’m really tired.” Her voice is low, putting a further distance. 

“Oh, okay.” Juyeon looks down.

Of course he’s so perfect, she thinks and opens the door wider. To set her feet out before she returns and see his sunken posture, watching the patterns at the bottom of the tub. Y/n bites her lips. 

“Don’t sleep in the bathtub tonight.” She says and Juyeon looks up, giving her a smile reminiscent of the one he always gives her. 

“Don’t worry about me.” 

Y/n nods and takes a step out again and shuts the door, not fully closed.

“Thank you.” She says, before at last leaving. 

When the divide amid the handle and frame becomes non-existent and each step of her bare feet recites from the floor back to her, she sees the rising moon in the corner of the window, fade from view as dark clouds pass by. There’s no liquid moonlight cast on the kitchen counter, and the metal in the sink emits no starfall reflection. 

She takes the hand that holds the only visual significance of the scene in the bathroom, and her other hand on the tap. The white stains run off her hand and weave together with the water. She watches the colors of morning gloom after rain, before it all eventually disappears down the drain. Y/n closes the tap, when her hand is left on the metal and she watches the lone drops of water that's left. It feels as if a part of her essence might have gone down with it, leaving her left at the edge of the world. 

Y/n hasn’t stayed in one place since she came down from Olympus for more than a few days. The date of the calendar has passed three days longer than planned, but why does she find this city so astonishingly more beautiful than any other place? She closes her eyes and maybe the ache in her heart will flow down the metal pipes like how she saw. But at last, her hand falls off the tap. 

Maybe hope will win, she thinks. The only thing left to believe in, the only thing that will save the three of them. If she goes to sleep in this state of heart, she hopes for their good life that Juyeon sits in the bathtub yearning for the woman he did a few days ago. She hopes no stems grow through his skin and to, as the love goddess and not Y/n, not see him fall to the floor as the power she rules consumes him from within. 

-

“You’re awake?”

To turn to the opening between two walls and see the table in the middle of it. The sun is already up. Juyeon takes his hand from his back to above his eyes, in the cause of  blinding gray light. 

“Yeah, I-” Juyeon sits up and starts walking out the kitchen. Eric and Y/n sit on either side and he stands beside them and looks down the plates. 

“You cooked?" Did you burn anything?” He asks Eric in which he shakes his head and points at Y/n while his mouth is full. 

“No, Y/n did.” 

As she sits on the opposite end from where he’s looking, Juyeon shifts his vision. The golden brown of the bread leaves trails of grease on the tips of her fingers and when she too looks up at him, scenes from last night pass through his peripheral vision like they tell you at the edge of death. Juyeon looks away before any visual traces will be sighted on his face. And as he scratches his neck, Y/n comes up from the chair and goes to the counter. When he feels the faint touch of her free hand on his back, Juyeon looks over his shoulder and sees the plate in her hand. 

“I did one for you too.” Her hand leans the plate out for him and Juyeon hesitantly takes it, “I tried to remember what you have on it, hopefully I got it right.” Y/n smiles and gets down to her seat once again. 

The vast eyes of his observes her eating before turning down to look at his own plate. How each of the green and red vegetable layers follows the same patterns as he usually does. 

Though, in truth, as he takes a bit of the sandwich, a sort of warmth trails down the sore spot. In one way he just thinks the sleepiness is coming off, but in between all the superficial, in the hidden part of his heart, he wants to fall to his knees and shout that Y/n hasn’t abandoned him. That there is hope left for them. 

“Eric?” Juyeon has hands on his knees. Eyes turn away from the speckles of color running across the concrete. And when they land on the younger sitting beside him, Eric has his towel in his hands, throws it above his shoulder. 

Eric hums and looks at Juyeon. 

He plays football in a building further away when school’s over. Sometimes memories return from that unchanged landscape. The sun wore bleachers and the synthetic grass field that spares its color no matter season. At some point, Juyeon didn’t need to follow him and wait on the bleachers. 

Juyeon came here as the clock reached noon. He took one stop earlier off the bus and walked to the entrance of the building in light blue paint. And Eric sat like he always has done, on the same place four rows above the grass. 

“What’s a good gift to a girl?.” He asks finally. The inner corner of Eric’s eyebrows closes in together as he doesn’t say anything. Simply stares at the one, a row under before his lips curl at its sides and Juyeon throws his face in his palms. 

“Ohhhhh!” 

Eric’s shoulder veiled in damp shirt material comes closer to his own before the younger takes the towel. He turns it in the air so that cold wind comes down on Juyeon. The one with a towel over his head starts swinging it closer and Juyeon doesn’t get to protest before the damp fabric runs across his face. 

“When did you become like this?!” Eric’s eyes, immense as his back falls into a curve to reach down where Juyeon hides. 

“Why am I proud?" Eric asks himself as he puts an arm around the older and lets his head high to once again see the bleachers in the lower end become steeper and the artificially green grass spread from one end to the other. 

“You didn’t answer.” Juyeon scratches the back of his hair, still with his own features a little nearer empty space down the bleachers. 

“What should I give her…a girl?” Juyeon corrects himself. At the end line where the side of the field ends and two planes of the bleachers start, he sees Eric’s feet come into frame and turns towards that direction. The shoelaces have blemishes of black hues and the neon color itself has run with rain water down the drains. Four depressing shades of fabrics in the same motion of how he kicks his feet back and forth, reminiscent of the end leaves of a dying plant. 

“I know it’s Y/n so we can start from there.” Eric answers and leans forward, “So what should you give Y/n?” 

Juyeon sighs again and lets his face in between his hands while falling forward. 

“I don’t know, that’s why I came here.” 

Eric continues to look down on his shoelaces, “I mean, you know her well, you can’t figure out at least one thing?” 

Juyeon shakes his head. 

“No wonder she broke up with you.” He says to himself and the older takes his face up from his hands and stares at him with deadpan. 

“Okay, too soon.” Eric takes up his hands above his head. 

“I don’t know, chocolate, that’s classic. A movie ticket to a romance movie? She’s the god of love – or new clothing, she doesn’t have much clothes.” Eric starts to look up at the high ceiling but jumps one step away on the bleachers as Juyeon stands up and gasps. 

“I know, I– thank you, see you!” 

Eric holds his arm closer to his own body, all while Juyeon jumps down the four rows and disappears along the white edge of the green field. The heavy metal door at the side of the building echoes throughout the empty walls. 

His eyes linger on the cold metal doors. There’s butterflies in his stomach, and not for himself, but for his brother. The slight change in atmosphere in their limited apartment, and the expressions of Juyeon’s face seemed to have cleared with the sky. Truly, Eric thinks, Y/n being a goddess or not, she cast a spell on their life and made him look at the sunset in an angle never perceived before. If she could stay with them, with Juyeon, a little longer, he might actually believe he gets to see flowers bloom in spring. 

Though, ever since he wrote their names on the note and she told him it’s not possible. He looks at his brother, when he melts to his knees and reaches out to touch her. The severe words she uttered that evening. In her otherworldly complexion, there’s a shadow she desperately tried to hide from him that day. Eric knows more than anyone, even more than Juyeon himself, that their  love is inevitable. But a part of him hopes still, that the thing she fears so deeply, is merely a projection, and that if he doesn’t tell Juyeon, the three of them might get what is closest to “forever”. 

As Y/n came to them in the last weeks of December, she noticed the decorations of warm light scattered across every avenue. Eric told her on the bus once that they celebrate the passage of a new turn around the sun. That whole ride until the final glass cubicle, she told questions in which Eric eagerly answered. Juyeon and Eric, promised Y/n to take her to the center city when the sky’s shimmer. 

They’ve walked all three down the street alleys. There’s a light from every restaurant and in the few open balconies and windows, music blasts through the street. She’d never seen so many shoes on the same platform. How it causes ripples in puddles, forces the mall entrance doors to stand open eternally and the constant, city conversations integrate. 

None of them took much down to the festival, Juyeon told her to dress up but there’s not much in her limited closet that would pass as festive attire. While she herself went with the shirt she always wears, it itched in Juyeon’s fingers to give her paper blue bag beside the bed. When down the street she pointed towards it, asked him why he’s carrying a bag. Juyeon took the excuse of wanting an extra scarf and umbrellas with him if it starts raining. 

To chase warmth while running through the open streets. And when the entrance door to the mall directs like curtains, people have gathered for the final scene of the night., Juyeon touches them both lightly. 

“I’ll get us something to eat, we haven’t eaten since lunch.” Juyeon points at a nearby van down one of the streets. It reeks of steam from the window while the person in front fervently switches conversations with the new person next in line. The two nod and Juyeon looks at Y/n while turning half away. 

“Look after Eric, okay!?” 

In the midst of all the burning colors, Y/n takes her eyes off the sky to see the reflection of each spark in people’s eyes. As passionate red fills the sky and scatters a wither of faint glow, Y/n think truly, that she has never felt as alive as now. The upper quarter of the crowd starts to move, she looks in that direction where a concise distance opens up between two jackets. 

That divide of the mass has loosened and the wall of the closest building works as a background to the people passing by that glimpse. Another firework goes off, echoes over the crowded platform. Eric looks up when her hand on his own becomes tighter and the direction of her head is not the sky but the front wall of the mall. He too leans forward to see between the arms of the ones before them, but as he opens his mouth to ask her what’s wrong, Y/n takes an even stronger grasp around his hand. Her own skin forces white spots to appear onto Eric’s and he nearly falls in a man’s chest as she turns. 

“What?!-” Eric shouts as people pull their shoulders closer to their warmth when they run past them. Y/n doesn’t look back, but exchanges attention from the barely patterns of the platforms and Eric’s hand secured in her own. 

“Run Eric!” Y/n tries to overpower the next color that fires off above them.

To escape the borderline of tight bound space and now free view over the imminent skyscrapers and alleys from the center. Y/n’s chest falls desperately, an impending sensation that hurts at the mit of her heart and seeps through the back. As each breath might cut her throat inside and a dye of red stronger than the one above, she takes another step and starts running. 

“What are we running from?!” Eric asks again, but Y/n doesn’t answer. The younger sometimes, when he looks at her face, sees a glimpse of her features when her hair comes behind the side profile. Vast eyes that none of the massive street lights can catch the attention of, and once or twice closes her eyes like it hurts. The strange fright running after them has him desperately coil his fingers with hers, run towards wherever she takes him. As the city flashes them by like a sped up film, they pass a familiar face without even noticing. He calls their names but only Eric looks back. 

“Y/n! It’s Juyeon!” Eric shouts and looks at her. 

“I need to go Eric, I need to go!” She breathlessly answers him. The signs start to fade, only streetlight patterns with distance lines the alley, the rest hidden. Fireworks from the curved celestial become all fainter and she can clearly hear his voice now. 

 “Y/n! Y/n stop!” Her name bears through the street. There’s a few restaurants with closed doors and warm lighting down the high walls. The people inside might see the silhouettes disappearing in an instant before the outer window. 

Juyeon shouts again and runs. The paper bag hits his thigh. Cause of petals in his throat, each shout becomes weaker and soon no air seems to pass them. The lungs inside his chest reach for air but like a cement divide, it seems impossible. Juyeon coughs as he still runs, and hears Eric shouting her name too. At the end of the road where three others meet, Juyeon gets his hands on her shoulder and forces her back towards him. They stop in an instant, and his other hand comes to her shoulder. 

“Y/n!” All three breathe heavily as they stand in a crossing. When the sky burns of color, it might even melt. 

“What happened?” He takes another breath and Y/n takes a step back, but Juyeon forces her feet to return to that place. Her head looks the other direction  so her side profile comes into full view, but his hands go to carry her face. 

“Y/n?” 

“I need to go.” She swallows. Eric takes a step from the two of them, watches how tears edges off her eyes. 

“I need to go, Juyeon.” Her own hand comes to his upper arms as she tries to push him away, but his own only comes closer, embracing her shoulder and back. The white fabric folds against his arms. To never let his sight of hers. 

“Why? Why do you need to go?” He asks gently. 

“It’s my mother, I saw my mother.” Y/n breathe and try to look behind Juyeon’s back before returning, “I’ve stayed for too long, I shouldn't have used my powers.” 

Finally all the water that has accumulated under her eyelashes overflows and a single drop runs down the curve of her cheek. As the tears itself saturate the space beneath her eyes and drown the lashes, all thoughts that would continue to pile up on her mind, reach the high ceiling. Where the last piece of stress bends at the top and eventually the whole tower falls. Tension releases in a second and Y/n feel her body become heavy. 

“I need to go.” She says again in a voice barely above a whisper. To face the rain covered asphalt, the strands of her hair fall before her face. Juyeon holds his arms still in that place they are in. But eventually, he let them fall to her upper arms. When her body is fully in his embrace, Juyeon pulls her closer so her head lands on his shoulder and body against his own. 

“I’ll help you get away.” Juyeon says gently. Though the fragments scratching his throat tightens at the sentence, he takes another breath through the flourished broken part. Let the sharp edges of vines pierce the insides. 

“And Eric will too.” He adds, looks towards the younger. Y/n shifts, then, a meter away stands Eric in a tense position, though, it slowly loosens as she looks at him. The yellow sign behind him, shines from his head like a halo and he gives her that boyish smile like he always does. At that, she gifts one back. 

“But you have to sleep.” She looks back at Juyeon, “We’ll help you out of here in the morning, but you can’t leave tonight.” 

She’s quiet. 

“I promise, your mom won’t find you.” He says sincerely as he looks at her in the eyes. Y/n can’t say anything, instead nods. 

- 

Y/n didn’t sleep. Even when she lied in bed with vision parallel to the turned off lamps above, Juyeon with great delicacy took the spot beside her. She refused to visually trace his face, still when his arm came under her neck and voice fluttered against her ears as he drew her closer. Forced light to divide from her eyes, maybe nothingness would mend the sore. Though, for every change on the minute digit and next firework. Naivety only pushes it bitterly, to grow in the hidden parts of her essence. 

Even at 5 in the morning, when their side of Earth still longs the sun, Juyeon’s hand is placed over her like before. Though, feather-like when he sleeps. His other arm is placed across her chest and at the end of his hand, he holds her upper arm. She turns from the ceiling, down to the side where his face is closest. Only in intimate moments have he been this near, but for the first time she can admire his natural red blemishes and the patterns on lips without Juyeon withdrawing. 

Time may stop for merely a second when she sees him like this, but there's trouble deep within her heart. It consumes butterflies left in her stomach and she reaches out closer to him, kisses him at the ending scene. It’s gentle and fast, contrasting to the cruelly slow ones they shared before. Y/n loosens his arm and climbs out the bed. When she packs all the belongings that can count on two hands, she sits on the floor and looks over towards Eric. The view is incredibly familiar as his arms depend on the bed edge and feet free from the fabrics. 

Y/n smiles before the pocket in the bag closes and she walks towards that side of the room. Her head is on its tilt when she tries to look at his face from the right angle. His mouth is slightly agape when he breathes and carefully Y/n takes her hand to brush his fringe. The covers are halfway over his stomach and Y/n bring it over his chest. As the edge of the stripes ends before his neck, Y/n takes a step back. To look at the room in its grandest form, she feels like bursting into tears. 

At last, she walks out the kitchen floor like an ending scene and comes out the hallway, just like the credit scene. When she reaches down for her shoes, a piercing knock on the door comes through the walls. Y/n stumbles backwards and catches her weight with her arm. She stands completely still while looking up the impending door. Another knock echoes throughout the apartment and this time, Y/n straightens up from the floor and takes the handle. Let the backpack fall to the side. 

When the door opens and the bright light from the stairs burns the dim apartment, her eyes squint. Though, a tall figure in dark clothes creates a shadow. She follows the lines of his clothing and sees his face. An older man with barely no hair, same with his smile. 

“Is this Lee Juyeon’s apartment?” He asks in a monotone voice. 

Y/n’s quiet for a second before nodding, “Yeah, he lives here.” 

“Is he here?” 

Y/n falls quiet again. To stare at his face without words, she looks down and sees the mark on the uniform chest. The reflexes on the navy shade and all the layers underneath. Y/n swallows before looking up again. 

“No he’s not.” Y/n says without doubt. The man looks behind her, into the kitchen area for a second. 

“Where is he then?” 

She answers quickly as adrenaline starts rising, “He visited a friend last night after the fireworks, a friend from school.” 

“Do you know where this friend lives?” He asks and Y/n bites her lip. 

“Not completely, he took the bus.” 

“Do you remember the number?” 

“Maybe eight.” She lies. 

The man takes up his phone and types something quick. She still holds the door when he puts it back down in his pocket. 

“Are you aware of the investigation regarding Lee Juyeon?” 

Y/n furrows her eyebrows. 

“No.” 

“He may be in possession of illegal firearms and has used them.” He pauses, “We are also in search of Eric Sohn?””Social services have been called to take him in since he's a minor with a guardian under crime investigation.” 

Y/n stands with her mouth agape. In desperate need to answer him as he looks at her, but words refuse to come out. 

“I understand it’s confusing,” he takes up a notepad and a pen, “But we’re gonna have to ask for your name since you seem to be close with Lee Juyeon and Eric Sohn.” 

Y/n does write her name, incredibly unstable for the age she appears. She looks up at him when she has just written her name, he doesn’t say anything but reads between the glances that a second name in after space should be there too. Y/n quickly adds a surname and gives the note and pen back to the officer. 

“Thank you.” He says, “Is Eric Sohn with Lee juyeon?”

“Yeah.” Y/n nods, “They took the bus together last night.” 

After a few more questions, the officer does finally leave her at the door. She doesn’t close it until his silhouette disappears fully down the stairs. When it finally does and she has stood there long enough for the automatic lights in the ceiling to shut, she does pull the handle close and lean her forehead towards the frame. Y/n closes the lids against the bottom as if it’ll erase the world from her. But when she opens them, the world is still cruelly real and she turns to the kitchen. 

Y/n shakes Eric first, let the covers she adjusted fall down his stomach once again. He lets out a confused sound with eyes still closed. Y/n continues to bother him while speaking. 

“Eric, you need to wake up.” 

Eventually she walks over to Juyeon, grabs arm and shakes his upper body. She repeats his name in usual volume and slowly his eyes come open and his head turns to her. 

“Y/n?” 

“The police were here.” She shakes him still, “You’re under criminal investigation, Juyeon. They’ll take Eric…you’re a criminal, Juyeon.” 

Y/n herself seem to have not fully comprehended the words the officer spoke outside. And as she voices what he told her, it dawns on her chest and her breath becomes heavy. She looks at him weakly when he sits up. The tiredness that lingers after slumber has disappeared and he looks at her with vast eyes and she repeats it to him. 

“Social services will take Eric, you’re under investigation for illegal firearm use.”

Juyeon stares at her for a second before taking the phone off the desk. She takes a step back once the blue light illuminates his face. He clicks into the news sights and at first article at the very start of the site, a video recording from the alley when he fired off the gun. He hits the lamp above them and it ends shortly after the man stands up. He reads the title of the article, “Young man wanted after shooting”. 

She sees the video rewind on his phone as his face turns to Eric on the other side who shifts position. Despite the weight coming down on them in one moment, none of them even stands up or walks out. From today's news, their tomorrow plays out in front of their visions. Like a gloomy movie Juyeon watches how they take Eric, ship him off to somewhere, long outside this city while he himself is stuck in between the same four walls for months on end. 

Y/n herself knows she must take herself out of the city. Sky’s been watching, nothing’s here will save her. But she can’t take her feet to the hallway, bend her arms down to her bag and leave them behind.

“I’m so sorry, Juyeon.” She doesn’t know why she apologizes. After all, it’s not her in a layered uniform who will come between the closed door at dawn and separate the two. But the way his eyes lingers on Eric’s silhouette while the grip on the phone tightens. 

Juyeon suddenly looks up towards Y/n, he stands up and takes her shoulder, “Don’t apologize, Y/n.” 

He walks away to the kitchen, opens the shelves and takes out red packages. Snacks in vibrant colors and then down to the refrigerator where he grabs the plastic bottle of juice. She stays in one place, unable to relocate her essence when the world progresses at a fast pace. Juyeon places the food on the table before he goes to the hallway to take out a backpack. Y/n takes her first step closer to follow his silhouette where she once stood to leave. 

“What are you doing?” She asks when he comes back to the table and lies the cheap plastic in the backpack. 

“We’ll have to move too.” 

She’s quiet for a second, stands with hands against her sides when he goes to the shelfs. 

“Where?” She looks at him. 

“I don’t know, probably where you’re going.” 

His answer causes a wind to force the side edge of the mirror to reflect back onto herself. Her double vision becomes unclear when the thing she focuses on is rather a gloom layer at the far end of the world. Probably Y/n will disappear in the masses of people down the main road complexions before even that fades as she comes all the further from the center metropolitan. When buildings start to lose color and texts graze the sides of parks, she’ll take the bus and let the vehicle take her as far as it can. Where she’ll stand in the vast world when the sun falls down the horizon once again, is like always, a mystery. 

“I’m not leaving Eric.” Juyeon comes back to the table before turning to her. 

“And not you either.”  

-

Before the sun breaks up on the horizon, they were out of the apartment. The sky’s collapsing above them as it rains, reminiscent of melancholy in hearts. Y/n walks beside Juyeon in between high end stores and dares to look up the gray coloration in thick layers. It all reminds her of the first day she saw this city for the first time.

They come to a meeting point where the city's buses pass in rush hour. The weather has worsened, wind from the shoreline comes through the building divides and forces the rain to stand on diagonal. They force their heads down and in need of perception, they peek through the strands. With all the other lights and reflections, they see neon green stripes of guards around the platform. The central station has just a few white stripes on the asphalt before them. 

To let one of the glass structures hold the rain above, Eric and Y/n take their hoods off and let the water that has accumulated run down their backs. Y/n looks to the left to see a woman in the inner corner of the booth. She shifts her feet as it reeks and scatters of cigarettes. 

“You didn’t have another jacket?” Eric looks at Juyeon who hesitantly takes his hand up the edge of his hood. 

“It’s the only one that is waterproof.” 

Eric sighs, “If they come up to us, it’s your fault.” He points at the officers the other booth away. 

“I’m sure those two, specifically, don't look for us.”  Juyeon emphasis. 

Y/n lean over to hold her finger before her lips. They look at her with immense eyes and eyebrows knitted together. In response, she tilts her head in constant pattern, back towards the woman behind, she’s on her own phone, but both Juyeon and Eric get the hint. Eric turns to the open rectangle staring out into the rain that has started to take on forms of snow. 

As another bus pass them and it’s only seven minutes until theirs come, the officers has come out the booth and started patrolling this line. Their uniforms in neon details shines clearly through the snow. And as they come closer, each of them become stale in their soaked clothing, feeling each water drop plummet against the ground. 

“Just be natural.” Juyeon says in low volume while hitting them gently with his elbow. 

The two officers come before the transparency. The three of them hold their heads in other directions, only daring a look in between time through side eyeing. The two have stopped talking, topics seem to have run dry and they come closer to the death of afternoon. The officer closest to them passes his eyes over the glass. Juyeon holds his breath tightly and looks up at the screen in orange outlines showing another minute. At last, none of them cease dividing puddles as they continue down the platform. 

The three of them fall with their backs onto the glass. Y/n turns to see the silhouette linger. But as she prepares to look away, Y/n tears her eyes off immediately, as they glimpse through the thick rain and stained glass. When a half minute has gone by, she dares to seek that side again, the two officers are static on that spot. 

Y/n budge Juyeon with her elbow, but he only faces the back side of her head. He follows where he thinks her sight lines and sees the two officers turn to look at their booth. The two of them look away and Juyeon brings Eric closer to his side. 

Eventually the two officers walked back to them, letting the glass divide two sides. The woman beside them looks towards the opening to see the police seek inside, but she quickly turns back to her screen. 

“Waiting for the bus?” The one to the right asks. 

“Yeah.” Juyeon nods.

“Did it work paying for tickets? We’ve been getting complaints all day that the machine is struggling.” 

“Yeah, we used the app.” He answers quickly. 

There’s silence. 

The police breathe in, “We’ve gotten a report of suspicion against you three.”“There’s a case of a young man potentially on the run, he has a younger brother of sorts and a female friend.” He pauses, “It’s a serious errand, I would want to ask for your names.” 

Eric looks up at Juyeon, then down into the ground, Y/n herself side eyes him too. 

“Kim Joonwoo.” Juyeon says after a passage of silence. 

They look down at Eric. 

“Max Sohn.” 

Y/n too lies. 

The two officers look skeptical at the three of them. Then their eyes lock with each other and one of them tilts their head further out the rain before disappearing. 

“We want you guys to wait for a minute, we’ll just have to check in.” 

The other stands in the rain with their back against them. His hand comes out the pocket as he holds a phone to his ear. 

Juyeon bites his lip. The one standing against the booth frame has taken out his phone and stares at the screen. Juyeon looks towards Y/n and budges her arm with his own. Y/n dares to look at him and they lock eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but points his head towards teh space where the last officer stood. She knits her eyebrows at first, leans harder against the glass pane when he eagerly opens his eyes and points with his head in that direction. Finally he looks over the two officers and sees none of them at concentration, he takes his lips closer to her hair. 

“When I take your hand, we’ll run, okay?” Juyeon falls back. The little space created heats of whispers in cold rain. Y/n nods as Juyeon turns to Eric and whispers the same words. 

Her heart races behind the synthetic fibers of the coat. Out in the rain, the officer guides his hand away and let the phone come before his face. At that moment, before he hangs up on the caller, a cold grip on her own soaked fingers runs through her. She already had her heel on the glass divide and push from it in a second. Eric accidentally falls against the other police when he runs out their back silhouettes dim out the rain, directed towards the street up the city. 

One officer shouts at them which takes the attention of the other and in a span of less than seven seconds all five are aiming at that street. Juyeon holds their hand desperately in his own as the asphalt end seem to decline in streetlights, in compassion to the escape.

- 

“I’m hungry.” Eric sits on the edge of the bed. How the perfect surface of the silk white sheets forms lines in which he sits. There’s only one bed, or two thinner, long sides against each other. Y/n lets her bag onto the floor two meters after the hotel door. There is no scent in the room, if she concentrates and lifts her chin higher, maybe there’s a hint of chlorine. 

“We all ate before going.” Juyeon throws himself onto the other side. 

“Yeah, but I’m still growing.” Eric complains and falls in parallel to Juyeon. 

“You don’t.” Juyeon smiles while looking at the ceiling before his head falls to the side in which the both of them share. Eric too lets his eyes wither from the spotlight shine and turn to the subject in which he falls onto. 

“Ha, really funny.” Eric deadpans, takes the pillow that’s half a meter from his head. When he holds the pillow in the air, gravity takes it down to the mattress in which Eric aims towards Juyeon. The older one takes his own elbow as a protective hold before his eyes. Sounds of laughter erupt from that side of the room as Eric goes onto knees to hit Juyeon fervently. 

Y/n stands in parallel to the mirror before the bathroom. For the first time she smiles in what feels like years. The sheet edges loosens from the mattress when Juyeon only vaguely tries to protect his body from the hits. Even then, his elbow comes back down to its side. Only closes his eyelids when the pillow comes close and the smile, only Eric gifts to see, never falters. 

A surreal wind goes through the walls, fills the hotel room. It struck her again, in her heart. Human time slows down and despite having a window right before her, that world disappears at the edge of the observable horizon. As the pillow in Eric’s hand falter and comes to lie in his lap, Y/n goes to Juyeon’s bag, opens the zipper and takes out a plastic packaging of a white cream bread. To come up to the bed herself and cross her legs at the end of Juyeon’s feet and diagonally towards Eric, she gives him the bread. 

“Oh, thank you, Y/n.” Eric takes it and opens the sealed edge. 

“You’re seriously giving him?” Juyeon takes only his head up from the mattress which forces his voice to come out strained. 

“Yeah?” Y/n smiles and looks at him. 

“He should only get a reward if he has done something good.” Juyeon falls back. 

“He has.” She insists. 

“Like what?” 

“Shut you up.” 

Eric laughs and hits the surface of the bed with his free hand. Y/n too smiles at her own comment and the two of them bring their hands to a high five. While the laughs lingers in between the divide of the bed Juyeon shifts onto his stomach and falls flat with his head against the fabric.

When they arrived with the bus at the outer corner of the city, it was already dark. They ran until street signs were rare and seeked for their conservation behind a karaoke bar down the crowded street. At the backside of the building with all bins of alcohol cans and empty plastic bags, they sat between the black synthetics. It rained still, they balanced on their feet even when they had sat there for 20 minutes. At last, Juyeon spoke for the first time since the shout to run behind the corner. After, they took the bus on a lonely waiting platform with no screen on the bus times, just a worn down time table underneath the name. 

No one else beside them and a man, two seats before, sat on the bus. And even the man walked off two stops before them as they sat on those demishined seats for as long as the ride let them. When the last stop got called through the speakers, they walked off back into the rain and the sun had fallen. Only those usual lights on row down the street were there to guide. At last when their feet were sore from escaping and minds had become numb from all the oversaturation they came to a hotel in gloom. 

They couldn’t tell if it was because of the dark or the hotel building simply hadn’t been renovated since it first came to fruition on this street. Either way, three of the eight letters before the entrance didn’t work. 

After barely an hour after closing the door to their small room in which Juyeon used his extra money for, they took on other clothes and went to lie in bed. Eric’s closest to the window, Y/n in the divide where the two beds leave a limited gap and Juyeon thereafter. She feels slightly stale when in between the two of them, but it loosens off quickly when Eric starts talking about stories from when he was younger and what he and his friends did the month ago. The two older listens as his words become incomprehensible in sleep.

Suddenly it's just the two of them again. Y/n’s quiet when Juyeon starts coughing a little, he takes his arm up to his mouth and she turns their shared side to see him caress the underside of his throat. When they were running from the officers and jumped behind the back alley, Juyeon too reached deeply for air and desperately seemed to mute his coughs while waiting. She blinks a few times while still staring at him, before speaking. 

“You’re okay, Juyeon?” Only a mere part of all the worries and guilt in her heart.

“Yeah.” He coughs once more before guiding his arm underneath his head, “Just a little sick I think.” He smiles and scratches his hair, “The rain was really cold.” 

His voice only reaches the span of the closest two pillows when he takes his hands underneath his chin and turns to the side, “I think I need a hug.” 

Y/n squints her eyes and looks at his smile before whispering, “Really? "Right now?” 

Juyeon’s request when in a strange bed while his face circulates rounds on the internet, it feels rather inappropriate in her book. Though, she laughs as the fringe falls diagonally over his vast eyes. There’s a point in pearl essence when he looks at her in which she has no choice but to reach for his face. The same echoing words in the back of her mind as the night they spent together in each other's arms comes back. It taunts her to divide space in between them. But even when not only this Earth, but the universe, chases them, she still finds her soul melting of tenderness when he looks at her. 

“You are a bit cold.” She smiles and caresses his head. 

Juyeon hums and closes his eyes, shifts his head on the pillow before bringing himself closer. His head comes underneath her chin as her arms closer around him and his breath comes against her chest. 

For every touch of her hand against his essence, and each time her warmth pulsates out of her veins and spreads across his own, he can feel the ways in his throat become choked. Ribbons with sharp edges tightens around his heart. He closes his eyes painfully, forces his head closer to her chest, as if to merge with her, the pain will cease. All the world’s seems to desperately stand in his way, he thinks in this rain drowned night. He can’t look forward to the morning. When any road can take him there, he closes his eyes and wishes to remember this moment, her arms, her presence, even in death. The green plantations in between the frozen cracks might grow from this weather, and so do the lilac petals in his heart. 

- 

There’s a sharp edge of yellow light. It cuts through the dark room in a single divide and traces up the floor to her face where it climbs up the wall. Y/n opens her eyes just so that a liminal shade of the outer world can be conceived. The light comes from the open bathroom door diagonally from her. As hands spread across the pillow behind her to let the weight off the mattress, Y/n hears violent dry coughing coming from the gap. 

She looks to the left where the side of the window stands, Eric still sleeps. Juyeon’s pillow has creases left of him and the sheet is folded from where he left. Another severe cough occurs from that room and Y/n folds the fabric once more as the warmth accumulated underneath, lowers in degrees while free. Gently while rubbing her eyes with her left hand, Y/n takes the other on the frame while adjusting her eyes to the light. 

“Juyeon?” 

He depends on the sink with his hands. Upper body leaned forward over the crater while his back replicates the harsh sounds coming from his throat. Y/n tilts her head to see his face, but neither standard vision or mirror angle contravene her fear. The cough brutally tears on the insides of his throat, it too causes delusive discomfort in her own body. 

His back straightens suddenly and Juyeon turns his head over. She stays in continued silence as he looks at her with eyes of liquid layers and redness underneath. He takes his arm up to his mouth to cough again before he takes a step closer and directs his body to come in between the bounded space of frame and body. 

“I’m okay.” He says hastily without making eye contact. 

Y/n follows the sight of his back silhouette returning into the hotel room. She lets go of the door frame, takes a single step to the sink. A dead garden with only traces left, deep lilac petals. It decorates the sink by erratic trails from the mit where water comes down. The air in her own chest twined amidst two ways. In contrast to the exhausted motions from the bathroom, she forces the door up even wider until it hits the other wall. Juyeon with arms against the mirror at the bed end, and she rushes towards him. 

“Juyeon!” With her hands on his shoulders, she pulls him closer to turn him in a direction to let his front face hers. But he stubbornly leans heavier against the mirror and only his left shoulder comes two centimeters closer before returning back. 

“Juyeon!” Her voice is loud in a room compressed beside ten others at the end of the city. She refuses to close her eyes when he coughs again and eventually, they plummet to the ground when he can’t bear the flowers rotting his body. Juyeon's face hides before the carpet. 

Y/n sinks to her knees, takes one hand under his chin and the other at the back of his head. To force his face up from the floor and see lilac vibrancy in gloom consume his features. A single petal falls from the end of his lips down to her thigh. Now when it traces her essence, she feels so cruel for being optimistic. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The hand on his hair comes to his cheek where she touches the red coloration with her thumb. Let the gentle pressure create white patterns before it returns to that color. 

“I- '' Juyeon coughs again and Y/n takes her other arm on his shoulder when he comes down to her lap. His hair scattered across her legs and the ceiling above him withers in view. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Y/n repeats in which he looks remorsefully up at her from her embrace. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” 

Tears threaten at the borderline under her eyes. Y/n shakes her head and reaches for the backpack behind her. This entire life, she wished to still be holy, but she realizes she might never be, when one grip the arrow. She holds it in her right hand, above his fragile heart. Juyeon’s eyes widen as the sharp knife aims at his vulnerable. He takes her wrist from below and speaks through the petals. 

“What are you doing?” He coughs. 

“I need to save you, Juyeon!” Y/n holds against him with her own strength. 

Her voice becomes softer, “It won’t hurt, Juyeon, I would never hurt you.” The single tear comes off her eye and falls onto his cheek. He pity her so deeply. But he wishes to be destroyed, eradicated by fate, if only he follows her for an eternity. 

“I-I don’t want to.” His voice is sore when he speaks and she shakes her head. 

“You’re gonna die, Juyeon.” She weighs down the arrow even harder, “I can’t let you die.” 

Shift of fabrics comes from the bed above them. Juyeon closes his eyes. Even in no visual presence he feels her raging strength extraordinarily work against him. A single glimpse into the future and his heart aches, maybe even more than the tearing in his throat. He doesn’t know where the second arrow will land after she strikes him, but he might as well be buried six feet under if it’s because of her. 

“I love you, Y/n.” He breathes heavily while his eyes lie underneath their lids. Y/n takes his shoulder with her other hand, shakes him fervently, 

“Juyeon!” 

“I just want to hear you…” He whispers and Y/n forces her eyes close when the tears run down her skin. The grip on the arrow becomes weak from both directions as she leans her face on his chest. Y/n shakes her head because fate betrayed her, gruesome and vengefully again. 

There’s faintly rain shatter. The dark gray clouds can be seen from this angle but one can only insinuate the existence of a cityscape at the end of the frame. Each of the droplets running down against the glass becomes further precise. He traces the outline of one of them, like his youth, following its tail to the very end where it shatters into pieces. 

“He’s awake!” 

A voice that echoes in the strange room, it shares the same stardust as his. He turns from the window and the yellow shine from spotlight sources blinds him. Juyeon squints his eyes as his head comes flat against the hard pillow and a silhouette covers the light in the ceiling. 

“Juyeon?” His voice is delicate, softer than in his memories. He knits his eyebrows and answers the one above him. 

“Yeah?” 

It’s only a word, pronounced sore and lost, but either way, it creates a smile on the boy above. As if too fragile to touch, he reaches his hand down to his shoulder and shakes him gently. 

“It’s Eric!” He smiles still. 

Juyeon still squints his eyes, “Yeah, I know.” 

“Juyeon?” 

The door from the other end of the room opens. There’s a wall before, in which two hands hold it while someone peaks through. A doctor comes before her, stands a meter behind Eric while the girl who spoke his name closes in. 

Another second passes before he speaks her name. His hand comes down to his chest and he rises from the bed just a little. The girl walks from the spot at the very end of his feet to the opposite side of Eric. She holds both her hands before her front and leans down to him. He feels cold off her body as if been in the rain he just chased. She holds his shoulders while her head rests beside his. Juyeon closes his eyes and embraces her too. 

“I was so worried.” She speaks quietly, so that each breath reaches his ear. 

“I’m okay, don’t worry anymore.” He answers whilst hugging her tighter. 

-

On the day Juyeon woke up at the hospital, she had ran to the bus platform in harsh rain after she got the hurried call from Eric that he was in sleep. Y/n only gave him a few hours to accept how she had altered fate, stand beside them in the yellow room whilst the past became forgotten. Juyeon, after waking up, went to the police station, he was on probation for a month, because of illegal firearm use but they did acknowledge self defense and past of no criminal records. Eric lived with Juyeon’s girlfriend at that time. 

When visiting him while on probation nearly everyday after school, Eric told him the weeks leading up to the blackout. All while his brother returned to true state, Eric felt inexpressibly alone after walking home. How he lives in the ruins where no one goes. 

Since that day, at the hotel where he nearly saw Juyeon die, Eric apologizes a lot for not being present. He wants to tell them that he lives in dreams, and put himself there because her name will never be forgotten. Instead he’s forced to tell the people that there was no Y/n, no love service, no magic, just an accident as Juyeon had gotten a gun curiously, used it to defend himself when a stranger was attacked in an alley. The rest of the story after new years stays, but without Y/n. He doesn’t know how she did it, but even the name of the friend the police got that morning after new years is not hers, but a friend of Juyeon’s. 

Now when it’s the end of spring and the edge of summer, he lives with Juyeon again. They meet up with his girlfriend often after Juyeon’s work. In two days, he’ll pass the school entrance for the last time, and think back, on a summer day in the near future. But as he lies in bed at night, he can’t help mourn the loss of that endless winter. Y/n told him that those moments will wither, not feel as intensely as they once did. But he’s still there. 

Eric comes home the next day after being out with his friends after school. Juyeon should be home, he thinks, as he’s nowhere to be seen when in the hallway. To see the sofa in the living room but sounds of struggle comes from a half open door opposite the balcony. There’s no sounds from Eric when walks with only his socks into his bedroom. Eric tilts head to see Juyeon’s back in his closet. 

“Why are you in my room?” Eric asks and Juyeon looks up from the floor. 

“Your closet door is a bit loose.” He pushes the black slide, “It’s soon done.” Juyeon smiles. 

Eric nods but doesn’t take away his vision from that corner as a black box sits beside Juyeon. The lid’s off the edge by a centimeter. Eric comes in and lays the bag at the frame before weighing down on the bed edge. Juyeon has laid down the working material and looks at the black box. Eric straightens his posture when he takes it in his hands. 

“I’m just curious, I didn’t mean to be nosy, but why do you have this dress?” Juyeon takes off the lid and angles the rectangular frame to showcase its inside. The dress in light blue color, detailed with white lace, is delicately folded so that the square neckline lies in center of the box. Eric bites his lip, hands on his thighs and touches them up and down the cotton fabric. There’s silence for a moment and Juyeon observes the younger’s expression when no words come out. 

“Eric?” He let the box down to his lap. 

“It’s yours.” He says and finally looks at him. 

Juyeon tilts his head.

“Mine?” 

Eric nods, “You bought it as a gift, you were supposed to give it to her on New Years.” 

Juyeon asks if he means his girlfriend and Eric shakes his head, looks down again. The fingers of his right hand start scratching against the left. A thin layer of skin loosens from the nail binding. He bites his lip again and thinks of all the lone mind echoes. 

Eric hasn’t seen Y/n since the day at the hospital. When Juyeon and his girlfriend started talking down in the room, Eric silently escaped and walked around the different floors with stairs in between. There was a door on the highest floor to an outside platform. Eric stood there, feeling a great sense of compassion for the Earth-like-tears. When it felt like everything might have been a dream, Y/n called his name. 

To come into her embrace and affirm she’s real. Though, Y/n told him before leaving that her existence is now not a valid part of Juyeon’s world. That there’s just the two. That she promises he’ll not be left at the threshold of two worlds, that this moment in each other's arms isn’t the last. But winter will soon end, and he must accept how the flowers will forget about snow once it is replaced. 

Eric breathes, “It’s Y/n.” He finally admits, still looking down. 

Juyeon knit his eyebrows, “Y/n?” 

Eric nods and a faint smile comes on his lips, “The one you saved, with the gun was Y/n. She lived with us at the end of December and you told me you loved her. You wanted to ask her out at New Years but you never got the time, because then the police searched for you.” 

Juyeon listens quietly, opens his mouth but none come to flourish. Instead he shakes his head. 

“I wasn’t told that.” He says hurt. 

“She told me not to tell you.” 

“But the police, the doctors…” He names the people who have affirmed fiction. 

Eric starts swinging his feet and smiles again, “It sounds stupid, but Y/n’s not a human.” 

Juyeon raises one eyebrow. 

“She’s a goddess, you fell in love with the love goddess, and she, in you.” 

-

Juyeon didn’t believe Eric. The younger stubbornly chased after him when Juyeon simply told him, “That’s ridiculous”. To run around every corner of the apartment, even into Juyeon’s room where Eric lied down beside him and reiterated. When Juyeon still persisted, Eric sighed and went up from the bed and out of Juyeon’s room. Went to his own, before coming back with his phone.

“Look, here she is.” 

Juyeon turns to Eric’s screen and sees a selfie, presumably he himself has taken of Eric, himself and a girl at the very end. Juyeon’s own phone falls to his stomach and he leans closer to see the picture. 

“When’s this?” He asks. 

“This winter, in our old apartment.” 

Eric scrolls to the next photo which is taken at the store, when they tried out angel outfits. The photo is clearly centered on Eric in his small wings, but Y/n can be seen to the right laughing in her own costume. 

“This one’s good.” Eric laughs and scrolls to the next photo in which Y/n holds the pink box on the platform with Juyeon beside her. He throws an awkward peace sign up with half his hair in his face. 

“I don’t remember this.” Juyeon tilts with a half smile and takes the phone from Eric’s hand. The younger one comes down fully on the shared pillow as they go through the pictures from that winter. 

“She’s the one you wanted to give the dress to.” Eric says eventually. 

“Have you met her since?” Juyeon asks at the last picture of them at new year’s. 

Eric shakes his head, “No,” He sighs, “She told me that her mother had found her and that she was only allowed a quick visit to meet me.” 

Juyeon nods. As if looking at another life when reversing the pictures. But her face, always in the captured stills from the past, insists a dime of all his sensibilities to tell him he cares. Even as the day passes, her face lives like cathedral windows before him. 

-

The moon, lifeless, in shine hanging above the sleeping Earth. It’s been dark for a couple of hours. The sun stays above the city line a second longer for each day that passes. 

When no one’s there to verify one's existence, the glass door to the balcony opens. No heavy wind passes through the city streets during this weather, but nonetheless she closes the door back to its frame before taking silent steps against the floor. The shoe material at the tip of her toes makes a pitched sound. Those steps come closer to the left door of two at one wall. 

To bring her hand out to the handle without any weight. She lets the shine melt into her own essence before gently forcing it down. Between that space is his room, she stands there for a second to finally see it in all three dimensions. At last, when her eyes trail down the wall details and reach him beneath the soft fabrics. His mere existence is extremely poetic. 

He reminds her of the present fragile complexity. How human he makes her feel, she thinks. She brings her hand up to her chest, above the spot of her clothing where underneath all the layers, one can sense the quick pulses. Eventually, she takes a step over the borderline, his features in pale moonlight become all clearer. When he’s so close to her, she hesitantly takes out her hand. 

His delicate skin is underneath her fingertips, slowly she pulls them back to her own side. Instead, sits down on the left space beside his hip. The bed sheets crinkles when her weight changes the patterns of the creases. She tilts her head. As if there’s a field drawing them towards each other, she leans over his chest and her face comes as close as it can. 

At this mere distance, each of his breath lingers. She had been dying to hear his voice and see his face, but truly her heart aches in bliss when his scent touches her face. It forces her to open closed off memories, may be sun bleached and dust, but it warms her human heart, as a part of him she had forgotten, returns to her. Her hand comes to the side of his pillow as she leans forward. He shifts his head and the beautiful hair scatters in new patterns. That peaceful sensation lasts, until the motions of his head spreads to his eyes and they slowly open. 

She immediately backs away, the hand returns to her lap and the sudden motion causes an effect on the rest of the bed. There’s a new emotion in her heart as he forces himself off the mattress and rubs his eye. She is still there, at the edge of his bed, when he looks at her with tired eyes. She wishes for him to fall right back onto the pillow, but he doesn’t, instead he continues to stare at her while the exhaustion from sleep disappears. 

She finally stands up from the bed. He looks up at her and trails after when she rushes out of the room. Juyeon is left with his hands on the mattress, blinking a few times, agape his lips. 

The person on the bed was a visit from a past life. He nearly wonders if the pictures on Eric’s phone he's been thinking about, might have started haunting him. But there’s a pattern left on the spot where she sat, a real world consequence of her existence. 

Juyeon takes the sheets off his body and walks up to the door. The silhouette stands at the outer edge. The glass is against the other wall and her lower body is covered by patterns of metal as she stands with her back against the free fall. A night wind from the moon comes through the open door and touches his warm body. It filtrates the thin fabric of his sleepwear and he takes another step forward. As her right feet disappear beneath the balcony floor, Juyeon speaks. 

“Wait!” 

The moonlight shines behind her when she turns her eyes from beneath. 

He opens mouth and walks closer, “You’re Y/n, right?” 

Juyeon takes his right leg higher to pass the doorstep elevation before the cold hard floor of the balcony. She’s leaning with both her hands on the railing which causes her to come in greater height than Juyeon. With still a meter between them, Juyeon looks up to her and asks again. 

“You’re Y/n?” 

The scene is rather overwhelming for her. Only in imagination has she continued seeing those moon made eyes and voice that causes spring to reach the very isolated, cold corners of her heart. None of the human vocabularies she has learned feels acceptable to answer him with, none withstand the level of adoration her heart feels. So at last, to open up to conversation with him one more time, Y/n nods her head. 

As she blinks, the nods become faster, “Yeah, it’s me.” 

For the first time, after a season, she sees him smile again, “Hi, Y/n.”

She breathes out and smiles too, “Hi, Juyeon.” Though, she tilts her head and observes the highlights caused from the moon on his face. 

“How do you know my name?”

A wind passes them, “Eric told me.” He breathes, “He told me you were a goddess, that you saved my life that day when the police came.” 

Y/n looks down for a second, still smiling, “Eric couldn’t keep it in, right?” 

“He’s pretty indiscreet. Though I guess you already know that?” 

Y/n nods.

There’s a passage of silence while a car drives down the street below them. Juyeon hasn’t taken his eyes off her for even a second, trying to place where in his heart she occupied space and if, when they stand together again, the doors will open again for her. 

“Where were you?” He asks which makes Y/n look at him again, “All of spring?” 

“With my mother.” She nods slowly, “I’m receiving my punishment…” Y/n looks down before smiling. Yet, she looks as if forced to improvise, he thinks“...I’m allowed to visit Earth more often though, I have an apartment here now.” She pauses, “So I’m at least free from that place.” 

Juyeon tilts his head, “Punishment?” 

“I escaped Olympus, I interfered a lot with human relationships…” She nods with ocean-heavy-eyes, “My mother was pretty angry.” 

Juyeon listens attentively when Y/n trails her eyes away and picks at her fingers. 

“You don’t remember, but I did fall in love with you back then. Changed your fate from the disease which I shouldn't have.” She looks down, the smile has slowly vanished with the wind, “So I am forever destined to love you unrequited.” She says as if turning home. 

The last sentence falling from her lips, causes a permanent block in whatever way was left in his heart. Like winter comes back in a second, deep frost structures his cathedral heart. 

“Unrequited?” He repeats. 

Y/n nods, “I will never be able to love anyone else. And you, will never love me.” 

Juyeon blinks, “Don’t you have powers?”

Y/n smiles again, laughs a little as she takes an arrow from behind her back. For the first time since he saw her eyes, something else falls in center. The sharp edge shines off the left side from the silver light. He realizes as he looks at it, that it is the same edge that must have struck him. 

“I’ll die if I use it and the same on you.” Y/n takes the sharp end against his arm. Juyeon brings it closer to his chest as the edge makes a white mark on his skin before it springs back in color. Y/n lowers her head and the arrow disappears behind her back, as mysteriously as it came. 

Juyeon looks at his arm. There’s nothing equivalent in words to describe the slow paced swan song that runs through his veins. But somehow he sees the dejection at the tips of her lips and it shares like grief in his heart. He doesn’t know why, but at last he speaks those words that die to come out in the silence. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Y/n tilts her head, laughs softly before speaking, “Why are you apologizing?” 

“I don’t know.” Juyeon scratches the back of his head, “I wish I didn’t have to leave you to love alone.” 

Y/n shakes her head, “Even if you didn’t forget me and everything else, my love would have outlived you by a hundred years.” She pauses and looks at him, like described out of a mythology, “Our love was never destined to be forever.” 

Despite standing before each other once again, there’s an undeniable distance. Y/n ‘s heart that desperately longs for Juyeon’s, but there is no lost place. There’s no use in trying. The universe has created an eternal absence, pulling them miles apart even when they’re here, at the same time in the same place. How tragically, he thinks. 

“But…I wasn’t punished?” Juyeon knits his eyebrows. 

“I mean, kind of.” Y/n says gently, “Though, not in the way I am.” 

“But I don’t understand, what was my punishment?” 

“Guilt.”

Juyeon tilts his head, “Guilt?” 

She smiles weakly, “Cause you’re a good person, Juyeon.” And it slowly fades, “Only good people die with guilt.” 

He looks down onto the cold floor of the balcony. There’s tragedy in marrow, cruelly hurts  when she thinks of the eternity waiting for her. How the adoration for him will simply not mature. How her heart will search for him, far and wide, even when he’s no longer here. 

Y/n swallows, “Anyways,” She shakes her head to let a strand fall beside her face. Her voice tears Juyeon’s eyes up from the floor, “You told me before I saved you…” She pauses to let another wind pass them by. 

“...that you loved me. But I never said it back.” 

Y/n looks down from the railing, locks eyes again. She reaches deep within, to find maybe even a fragment of him that will remember those words. 

“So I want to tell you that I love you too, Juyeon. Not because I’m punished to, but because you loved in a way no one else has done.” She breathes out, “I didn’t quite understand love back then, I couldn’t understand humans,” She smiles weakly, “even when I wanted to save you and you said no, I couldn’t grip my head around why you didn’t want to be saved.” He looks at the goddess with vast eyes when the moonlight is at its brightest behind her. 

“But now, when I’m forever punished loving you, I still think that I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She says, “I want to love sincerely even when you don’t love me.” 

The lips of his mouth form a faint gape. The reflection of the moon in the left center pupil fades and returns like it's pulsing. He waits for a spark, a falling star or even a firework, but the night stands as still as it always does. Though, with the sincere words she gives him, he wishes there’s a part in his heart that receives it, that can fully comprehend the words she so gently tells him. 

Another car passes by and Y/n looks down the detailed street in lights. Her hand comes up before making a sound on the metal railing. 

“Well, I think that was all.” The smile she gives him comes as if perfectly out of the photo on Eric’s phone, “Thank you, Juyeon. I’ll protect you and Eric from the bad things, you've been through enough.” She once again takes a foot down the balcony.

“Wait-” 

Y/n looks up as he pushes the glass door open again and disappears into the room. Still halfway down, Y/n tries to perceive his shadow behind the frame. Only struggles of doors and paper can be heard from her distance, but at last, Juyeon comes out again. He holds a black paper box with his two hands. 

“I don’t remember, but Eric told me I wanted to give this to you on New Year’s, but I never got the chance to.” 

Y/n comes up again, reaches her hands out but hesitantly takes them back a centimeter. Juyeon smiles delicately and pushes the box closer to her. To open the lid, he sees her  expression fade into brilliance. As if sunrise has come above the horizon, he tilts his head and smiles too. The distance destined between them refuses to let him fully comprehend the gift, but truthfully when she lifts it up, a pure bliss rushes through him. 

“You brought it?” Y/n holds the top part of the dress as those burnt memories return.

“Apparently,” He smiles. 

As she pulls the fabric a bit higher, a piece of paper reveals itself underneath. Y/n takes her other hand and folds open the letter. 

Happy New Year’s, Y/n! 

You looked really pretty in that dress so I wanted to give it to you. If I ask you out now, I hope you will wear it. 

Love, Juyeon

She reads it over and over until it means visually nothing and ocean edges on her eyes. The choir of lovers that sing in her lone marrow, how each word tears at her strings deeply, “Thank you, Juyeon, thank you.” They shine as she looks back up. 

She puts the letter into the box again and closes the lid. 

“I’ll treasure it forever, I promise. “ 

He smiles because she now knows it wasn’t always unrequited. That the mourn and loss wasn’t all for nothing. Though, still in melancholy cause he can’t help her like she saved him. Amidst everything in silence, Juyeon’s eyes widen. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot. Eric’s graduation is tomorrow,""do you want to come?” 

“Are you sure?” Y/n hesitates. 

“Of course.” He smiles, “I think he missed you.” 

At those words, she finally nods, embraces the box a bit closer, “Then, I’ll come!” 

“Great, meet me on this street at ten tomorrow morning, okay?” 

Y/n nods and takes a step down. 

“I think you should use the stairs.” Juyeon leans over the railing. 

“Oh, right.” 

“Eric!” 

He turns when his name, pronounced deja vu inducing extreme, trails the high ceiling. The friends in circle stops talking and almost instantly, he recognizes her silhouette, that can overthrow the world, in the crowd. 

“Y/n!” The paper in his hands withers off when he meets her halfway there. She closes her eyes when he’s under her arms again. The black suit he has on scratches against her arms. Y/n tells him he’s the most handsome she has ever seen him. She ruffles his head when they let go. Eric would have sulked but couldn't when he had missed her so deeply. 

Juyeon came up too and soon after his girlfriend walked through the entrance. Y/n, though, struck her heart that night after Juyeon, didn’t have a chance to see her. As she stood real before her, she smiled fondly and introduced herself. Her tender heart, molten because of the lovers. Though as the two turn to walk down the entrance, and their traces leave Eric Y/n, her cursed soul starts to mourn. 

She thinks; if I told you my world stopped when I saw you. You wouldn’t have believed me. You should have known by then that the heaven’s lies in my palms and when you said my name, angels heard it echo. 

They say nothing truly disappears, that it just changes. Then, she hopes that if she shouts his name into the black void, it’ll come back to him as an echo. That if she believes in love, help people over the street, pet cats and water her plants, that all that love will reach him someday, in some form. 

She hopes, if she lives on, worshiped in history, that if her name gets spoken in the far future, his will too. When we believe there’s nothing left to be made holy, she sincerely begs to tell this tale, to any lovers, that’s left alive. 

© littleroaes, written and all

a/n : that self conscious part of me thinks no one will make it down here, but if you did, thank you!

tagging : @from-izzy

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - It's 2024 & I'm talking about TayNew... really?

(They pretty much told us all to sit down and shut tf up, 'cause they got this. AND THEY DO.)

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Feb 2024 Wk 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube grey) ep 9 of 12 - I broke. In my defense, it was Monday, I needed comfort, and TayNew were right tf there. Ya know what? They are great in this show. It's a great adaptation. I might like it more than the JBL live action. You know why? Really, honestly WHY...?

That was a PHENOMENAL KISS. Those boys did Thailand fucking proud. They did fandom a solid. Thank you OGs for reminding us how it's done. I was getting used to SloppyHot. And SloppyHot has its place, but that TayNew rooftop kiss was a top tear class act. It was tender and sweet and respectful and joyful. It was eye work and breath work and years of practice. How very far BL has come while still staying so much the same. TayNew - I salute you!

(Read all about distribution issues here.)

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 12fin - we waiting, I guess? Bah.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 11 of 12 - The recipe book thing was so damn cute and I love a claiming. YOU KNOW I LOVE A CLAIMING!

In fact, I love OffGun.

I love food based BL.

I adored seeing a reboot of "the infamous dragging". 

But I don’t love anything else about this show. Sigh.

1000 Years Old ep 1 of 12 - Finally we get our gay vampire BL from Feel Good Bangkok. Stars Shane (My Engineer) and fresh face Opal, directed by Champ (2gether). It’s kind of odd but enjoyable. A group of teen UFO seekers find a vampire instead. Opal looks a bit like a mix between Newnu + Leo (VIXX) - so cute + edge. Also, nice to see Shane again on our screens after so long. 

Finally, I like the subtle (and sometimes not subtle) presence of ghosts permeating this show. Do the friends know she's there? Do they know she's dead? Is the existence of paranormal accepted but not that of aliens? Or are the two combined? Is this lazy writing or just fun world building? Who cares! It's enjoyable.

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 12fin - the nail painting bit was very cutie queers and I've not seen it done in BL before, so that was nice. For some reason captions never dropped for me on this last episode, but it didn’t really matter. Not much happened and I understood everything anyway.

Quick pitch?

From the people who brought us Unforgotten Night based on a y-novel, about a young man nursing a heartbreak who has a one-night stand, but the other boy didn't want it to end. This turned out to be a pulp that wasn’t half as good as it should have been and even less memorable, but not terrible. 5/10 DON'T BOTHER unless you're v bored

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 3 of 12 - Oh it is such a pulp: the acting is not good and the script is terrible. Of course, I’m mildly enjoying it. Very good dream kissing. There's something appealing about these main characters - I think it's the moot crushes. We rarely get to see that. These days everything feels very one sided, this... isn't.

A Secretly Love (Thai WeTV) - Khonprot, a third-year hazer of the engineering faculty, has a secret crush on Pluem, a tsundere fourth-year head hazer. Over the years, he's seen Pluem cycle through girlfriends. Recently, after a public breakup, however, Khonprot thinks maybe a boy has a chance.

I tried but I can't get into my WeTV account anymore and I'm way too lazy to figure it out. I'll catch it grey if I can, since I've rebooted the bootlegging side of my BL life for Cherry Magic anyway.

So this show may stay in this section, or I may bump it down to "it's airing but..."

If anyone is watching it, let me know if it's good?

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Love For Love's Sake (Korea Weds iQIYI) 7-8fin - Ugh it was GREAT, despite some pretty telling flaws. I ended up feeling like some of the filming was amateurish (very overworked low angles - director's first feature, I assume), and the narrative is a little disjoined and on the nose, AND the subs are clumsy (which I don't expect from KBL) BUT I still loved it. (FYI - I wouldn't be so harsh on a BL for this kinda thing except one from Korea.)

Quick pitch:

This isekai-based KBL is about a man who must win a game by convincing a reserved teen outcast to fall in love with him. Of course, that teen represents himself and his own unhappiness. Like many queer narratives, this show is actually about self worth, trust, and found family, and it is VERY on the nose. But I don’t expect subtlety from my BL and I enjoyed it's truly lovely redemption arc and earnest performances. While I found the narrative a touch disjointed with overworked filming angles and poorer than average captions, this is certainly much better than early KBL in terms of consistency of tone, script, and immersion. Highly rewatchable and charming, which counts for a lot. 9/10

Trigger warning for suicide depicted.

Perfect Propose (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 4 of 6 - Gosh, it’s so lovely. But I do just constantly want to give them both hugs. 

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - Oh look, Taiwan has created yet another BL where I spend most of the time watching it grinning like an idiot. Surprise surprise. The pet name thing was fucking adorable. Also Taiwan once more proving they come by their "kings of kissing" title honestly. I mean to say. In a week of good kisses this one was just... WOW.

On the other hand, some of the underpinning themes are starting to v worry me (ownership, consent, age), and we only just got started, and I don't trust this production company so... I have concerns.

But also... YAY KISSES!

(I'm made of weak moral fiber.)

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 6 of 10 - Like many other shows on this list. I just enjoy it the most when the two leads are on screen together. So this episode was kind of lacking because they were apart for most of it. I also am starting to agree with the tone of the plot, that maybe they ARE better off as friends not lovers. (And I'm sure I'm not supposed to want that.) Oh Japan, must you?

My Strawberry Film (Japan Gaga) ep 1 of 8 - Oh it’s good. In the arthouse lane so don’t expect sweetness & light or an HEA. If there’s no cartoon aspect to a JBL, there’s usually no joy. But it is certainly good. Teens uncover some old film and a mystery around a pretty girl. The background music is wildly annoying (and rarely in the background). 

It's Done

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have any spare time. 2024 is crazy busy for me so far.

The Servant and the Young Master - from Vietnam, it's on YouTube. I will give it a try when I have a window of time.

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) - A Burmese BL? @heretherebedork vouched for it, so I will give it a watch.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) - Gave me Luminous Solution vibes have decided not to watch.

It's Airing But...

Dead Friend Forever (Thai iQIYI) - rumors are it's interesting. I'm waiting to know how it ends.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… probubly not. I won't be watching this. I disliked Season one and actively hated the follow ups. No thank you.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. I DNFed this at ep 5. Frankly I'm impressed with myself for getting that far.

Time the series (Tue Gaga/YT) 10 eps - dropped it at ep 4.

Next Week Looks Like This:

2/24 Unknown (Taiwan Youku) 12 eps - Older brother tough guy breadwinner looks after his sister and defacto adopted little brother. Little bother falls in love with him and is sent away after a stolen kiss. But when he comes back…

Sam Lin has a cameo so even if I wasn't already excited, I'm in. We should be on our guard though, Taiwan will occasionally go edgy, dark, and sad... this could go there.

One assumes GMMTV is filling in the BL time slot with something queer on their YT Channel after Cooking Crush ends, they gonna lose subs if they don't. But I've not been paying attention to the chatter so I don't know which of their line-up it will be. I think G4 are filming/off radar now, and Earth is in that het noona thing? Plus they gotta sort out the IP for MIx-Up and Ossen. So it won't be one of the announced adaptations. They'll hold My Golden Blood for the high season, so I think it'll be one of the lesser known lead-outs. Wandee or Only Boo maybe? But they only just started filming those. Are we getting our long awaited GL? Anything else left from 2023 that I forgot about?

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Two crawling kisses from Thailand this week. Now this is a fetish I didn't know I had. Turns out, we love this one! (*waves hand in air* I speak for all of us now.)

Cooking Crush

City of Stars

Possibly the best tsundere to cinnamon roll pivot we've had in a long time.

Also the best asshole to KING pivot. Could we have a whole drama staring this character now? Please?

And finally our sunshine learning to love himself.

SIGH. what a lovely show.

And a good SMILEY kiss from a KBL.

And then some cute cuddles? Korea is spoiling me these days. I'm catching expectations now. What's next? Japan learns to kiss in their light BLs? Ha! I kill me.

(All Love for Love's Sake).

(Last week)

[multi-fandom-simp]

Forever and always.. or maybe never. Part 2

[Part 1] [Alternate Ending]

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Hanahakis Disease!AU

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: You're dead, and now Aemond must suffer the consequences of loving someone he can never have. How long until he can no longer handle it?

❗️TW❗️: Harsh language, mentions of blood and throwing up, character death, mentions of sexual situations, mentions of infidelity, slight violence, arguments, mentions of childbirth

(A/N: Part 2 is here! It took me a minute to put this together because I had so many ideas on how to do it, so I hope it is to your liking. I would love to hear thoughts, opinions, and ideas on it as well, I'm always open for criticism/suggestion! My asks/inbox are always open as well, I love nothing more than to talk about my fics, or just to you guys in general! I'm always up for having more mutuals on here! Also, if you are interested in the alternate ending for part 1, I posted a poll on what you would like to read in it, so feel free to vote. Anyways, enjoy!)

Word Count: 2,329

Taglist:  @libdarkheart @bibli0thecary @earthangels-things @iiamthehybrid @bellameshipper @introverbatim (I believe that is everyone who asked to be tagged?? I apologize if I missed anyone)

It was hours before anyone was allowed to take your body. Aemond had sat there, clutching you as you turned cold and stiff, staring off into the distance as the young boy inside his head wailed endlessly. It had been Helaena who convinced Aemond to let you go, and Daeron who supported him while he carried you to the maesters. Alicent was the first to cry out as you were pronounced officially dead, a piece of the queen's heart seeping through her lips as she wept against your hand. The small smart-mouthed girl that arrived nearly a decade and a half ago now lay unspeaking before her very eyes. 

“Tell me you were there” Alicent croaked out. 

“ Mother?” Daeron was the only one to question the queen. Helaena knew the question was not for her and Aemond still stood unmoving. 

“ Tell me you were by her side, Aemond! That she did not die alone!” Alicent stared directly at Aemond now, even if he did not look back. 

“ You think so low of me, that I would let her die unheld?” Aemond whispered.

“ I did not think you would cause her such heartbreak and yet here we are!” Alicent cried out. The fire in her eyes might even make you believe she was a Targaryen in more than just marriage. 

“ I did not know” Aemond argued softly. 

“ Then you will not know the time of her rest as well” All air sucked itself from the room and Aemond’s cardinal-rimmed eyes shot to his mother. 

“ You can not keep me from it” Where an authoritative edge was expected, vulnerability came instead. 

“ I am your mother and the queen dowager, I will do as I please” Alicent spoke harshly, “ I will take Aemys to the ceremony. I expect you to get rid of that bastard wet nurse in the meantime.” 

“ Mother-”

“ I will hear no more, Aemond! If I see you there, you will be thrown in a cell until it’s over” Alicent warned one last time while brushing hair from your face. She bent down to place a motherly kiss on your crown before turning away swiftly. Shortly after her departure, Daeron said his peace as well, followed by Helaena. Finally, Aemond stood alone with you once more. It didn’t take long for his legs to weaken and buckle, taking him down to his knees. The memory of the last time he had been on his knees for you tore a sob from his throat. 

“What are you doing?” You giggled in astonishment as Aemond removed his tunic and knelt at your feet. His hands dipped in the warm lilac water that your swollen feet soaked in. 

“ I’m going to massage the knots from your feet” Aemond explained, watching as your face contorted in bliss when his fingers dug into the right spot. 

“ That is what the maids are for, my love.” You proclaimed before laughing again, ”Most husbands would scoff at the thought of massaging their lady wife.”

“ I am not most husbands, am I?” Aemond countered, smirking up at you. He took one of his hands from the water to caress your swollen stomach. Though he had soaked your night shift with water, you could care less.

“ I suppose not” You sighed contently, “Avy jorrāelan.” I love you.

“ Avy jorrāelan, Ñuha prūmia. Besides, it is the least I can do when I am the reason why you ache in the first place” Aemond continued to soothe the bump, hoping to feel movement. Kicks were his favorite, they usually occurred whenever you laughed. As if on cue, a flutter of movement blossomed underneath his touch as you chuckled at his statement. 

“ If I recall correctly, I was a part of that same reason” You took a towel from beside you as spoke and let it flutter to the floor. Carefully, and with assistance, you removed your feet from the water onto the dry cotton. 

“ Mhm, that is true, you even had me on my back at one point” Aemond snorted.

“ As I remember, you seemed to enjoy it quite a bit” You teased. 

“ Did I? Perhaps you’ll have to remind me” Aemond surged at you before you could even comprehend what was happening. His lips moved deeply against yours as he shifted you to lay back. 

“ Aem!” You gasped in delight, holding onto his shoulders.

“ Yes, Ñuha prūmia?” He cooed mischievously, gleaming down at you like the Cheshire cat.

“ This is nowhere near the position we were talking of, ñuha zaldrīzes!” Dragon. Your dragon, always. Aemond nipped at your neck upon hearing the endearment that always caused his heart to stutter. 

“ Mhm, ‘tis not, but I quite like this position” He murmured hotly against your neck. 

“ You won’t like it when it’s the position I give birth in” You whispered. It’s not that you were scared of your first child’s birth or of death itself, you just worried about never meeting your child if you did perish. 

“ Stop that” Aemond scolded. 

“ Stop what, I’m-”

“ Overthinking. I can feel it” He rose slightly to press his forehead to yours, "Both of you will make it out just fine, though I imagine the babe might still scream well afterward” 

Aemond was right, Aemys did cry well into the night after his birth until you were awake and well to hold him that is. It’s ironic, Aemond thinks, how similar that was to now. You were unconscious after a taxing birth, now you lay unconscious on a pyre. Aemys screamed for you then, and he screams for you now, despite Aemond being there both times. 

“ Muña! Muñaaaaa!” Aemond silently braided a piece of the thrashing toddler's hair as he kicked and screamed. Even at three years of age, he was clever enough to know something was wrong. 

“ Muñaaa-”

“ Aemys, please..” Aemond sighed tiredly, turning the child to face him. 

“ Jaelagon. Muña.” Want. Mother. By the seven Aemond wanted you too, but he couldn’t have you. The realization caused a tightness in his chest, a breathless one, but he refused to cough. 

“ I know, byka zaldrīzes, I’m sorry.” Little Dragon. Aemys truly was still little and it broke Aemond’s heart that you would never get to see him grow big and strong. He brought the distressed toddler to his chest and held him tight, tears soaking onto the small amethyst tunic he had been wrangled into. 

“ Aemond” Alicent called out from the doorway, poised in an onyx dress with a belt of deep purple jewels to match her grandson and a hand full of lilacs. Your faithful hyena, Lark appeared as well, striding into the room slowly. 

“ Be good for your grandmother” Aemond spoke quietly but firmly, before standing to full height. He watched as Aemys toddled over to Alicent, giggling as Lark lapped the tears off his cherubic cheeks. 

“ Muña?” Aemys whispered, your eyes shining up at Alicent through his.

“Mama?” the young girl croaked, peering up at a young Alicent Hightower.

“ Your mother isn’t here-” Her voice faltered at the heartbreak in your innocent eyes, “but surely we can see her later, alright? Now, what else would you like, little one?” 

“Flowers?” Alicent chuckled, before taking your small hand in hers. 

“ I suppose I can show you the lilacs..they’re my favorite” The queen whispered down to you, smiling when your face lit up. You may not have been hers, and despite Viserys being the one to invite you, it was the queen who took you under her wing. 

“Mother.” Alicent’s head snapped up to look at Aemond, breaking from her memories. She blinked rapidly to dispel the water weight from her eyes. 

“ Your mother isn’t here, but we’ll see her…someday” Alicent reassured, taking Aemys little hand in her own. Aemond watched as they went before leaving the room himself. He trudged up to a small room at the top of the tallest viewpoint in the castle. Dreamfyre was circling the skies, waiting for Helaena to say Dracarys. 

“ Aemond!” The sound of his name on your tongue lapped at his ear and your footsteps echoed past him. Dreamfyre now flew towards the grassy knoll. 

“You’re handsome to me” The ghost of your fingers prickled goosebumps near his scar. Dreamfyre landed upon the ground. 

“Avy jorrāelan”

 “Avy jorrāelan.” Your proclamation of love faded away with a hot wind as Aemond’s rang through the air. Dreamfyre hurled fire as Aemond hurled petals. 

Whereas your suffering lasted two months, Aemond’s lasted a year. He never tried to conceal, nor cure it. Aemond once said he would die without you and he meant it. Over the course of his downfall, several had tried to convince him to remarry.

“She’s gone, Aemond-”

“ Do not speak my name. I am a prince, refer to me as such.” Aemond snapped coldly at Alys, who stood in front of him and his family in the hall. Unfortunately with a slightly swollen belly accompanying her. The very sight of it made Alicent and even Helaena nauseous. You had only been gone a few months.

“ Apologies, my prince-” 

“ I did not say your prince, I am nothing of yours.” Aemond corrected once more. 

“ You were once” Alys spoke, gazing wickedly at the man before her. 

“ You tricked me, bewitched me” Aemond sneered.

“ I merely used your lady wife’s blood to make you think I was her. You, Aemond Targaryen are the one who chose to believe it. You began to love m-” 

“ I loved her, not you! It will always be her-” Aemond turned swiftly as he felt the familiar dryness creep up his throat and out onto his hand, bringing rivers of scarlet in its wake. 

“ I was going to offer myself up to you for marriage, but it seems that your wife still calls to you even from the ground.” Alys tuts, “Such a pity that I couldn’t have either of you in the end.” 

Pity. It was a thing that Aemond found himself receiving often. Lords would offer their pity on losing such a gorgeous young wife. Ladies of the court pitied him for losing the only woman who could ever love a monster like him. Even Aegon pitied him, but not for the right reasons. 

“It’s a pity that you lost your wife brother, because now I have to find you another one through alliance. Which mother loathes me for because she believes it’s too soon” Aegon grumbled the last part into his chalice as to avoid his mother's glare. 

“ I will not take another wife” Aemond didn’t bother to eat nor look at anyone, he was only sitting at the table for duty’s sake anyway. In his head, he was in a whole other world where you were alive and happy. 

“ You will remarry, to a Baratheon girl. You will remarry, forget about your old wife, which will get rid of those damned petals you leave everywhere, and then sire more children” Aegon chuckled darkly. 

“ No.” Aemond refuted. 

“ Yes-”

“No! I will not take another wife as long as I lo-” Aemond wasn’t able to say the word much these days without it being an instant reaction. The blonde looked down at his hands and saw not only flowers but thorns. He was nearing his end. 

Aemond’s end wouldn’t come for many more months. Leaving him time to try and end his life quicker. Many morrows would pass and for each one Aemond sat on his knees in front of Vhagar, but nothing ever came of it. Either the dragon refused to kill another rider, or she agreed with Alicent on the fact that Aemond deserved to suffer as you did. Aemond also lived to see Aemys reach another birthday. He spent as much time with the boy as he could in between his duties. It was the only time he could ever get a glimpse of you outside of his mind. The four-year-old’s eyes had become windows to your soul. Not only did Aemys have your eyes, but he had begun to display your mannerisms as well. Mimicking the way you used to carry yourself, the way you talked, and ate as well. The only thing he held of Aemond was hair and emotional range. Though the latter did not develop until after your death. 

“ Aemys, father must go now.” Aemond stood in full armor at the child’s bedchamber door. 

“ Okay.” Aemys spoke with a soft smile before figuring out how to say his next words, “Tell Muña I say hi”

Aemond’s expression fell before it was quickly replaced. He memorized the look of his son once more before taking off down the hall towards Vhagar. Aemys’s words repeated through his head as he flew toward God's Eye. Blood trailed from the corner of his lips and nose, but he ignored and braved on. He would die a dragon rider's death, a brave death, so that he may meet you again in the afterlife. The universe, however, like before, had crueler plans. Air began to solidify into silk beneath the tissue of Aemond’s lungs. His bronchioles turned to thorns, and trachea to roots, all while his body remained the soil. 

“ I-I lov-” For the first time since your death, Aemond sobbed. He needed to say it, needed to say he loved you before he died. The sky, the clouds, the stars, the universe, all of it needed to know how he truly loved you. Aemond could not see caraxes flying towards him with a rider confused on why his nephew was kneeled over before the battle had even begun. Daemon would not attack an injured rider, it would bring him no pride or glory. Instead, he watched as Aemond slid sideways from Vhagar and plummeted towards the river. 

“ Avy jorrāelan” “ Avy jorrāelan” This time it was your proclamation of love that engulfed Aemond’s just as the river of sea and blood consumed him. Aemond Targaryen could not feel the crisp coldness of the water, only the soft warmth of your hands pulling him in.

[chaibewriting]

PART SIX — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄

prince! enji todoroki x black-coded! (poc friendly) fem! reader x platonic! todoroki kids

content warnings: brief depiction of violence, domestic violence mentioned, suicide mentioned, child neglect mentioned.

notes: this is long overdue, my bad y'all I was dead— hope ya enjoy today's chapter 🕵️

word count: 5.2k

summary: enji gets a taste of his own medicine and an old enemy is coming to the light.

taglist: @easilyobsessedbutflighty @rogueofbullshit @2chickenwangs @mimi-sanisanidiot @megumitodoroki @sexyashbish @nctseventeensworld @flamey-comet @theroosterswife24 @randomjuju @hecate-kitty @bluebreadenthusiast @flvr4ane @theitchbbbb @bunniotomia

prev. chapter six. masterpost. next.

IT’S hand continued to squeeze the throat of the King, unwilling to let go of the man who’d struck you. Surely, you would be leaving a bruise on him.

Whilst the entity continued to grip Enji’s throat in a vice grip, glaring at his face. His lightly tanned skin was slowly turning blue, your terrified son soon broke from his fear-struck state upon seeing you. This new figure seems to make his fear disappear and he isn’t afraid anymore. Afraid of what? Perhaps his father, or more so, what your father could do to you in his blinded rage. As he looks between you, or the creature holding you, and his father, he realizes that there would be dire consequences if you were to accidentally kill the man.

Silently, the little boy lurches forward, sprinting towards the shadowy creature and jumps onto one of its inky black, tree stump legs, wrapping his little arms around it and hugging it. From what he was able to see, you were covered in the blackest flames he'd ever seen, and he had willingly thrown himself into danger at the prospect of being potentially burned as long as it meant you would stop. To his surprise, there was no burning sensation. In fact, he had squeezed his eyes shut, tears pricking at the corners, preparing for the searing pain of being set ablaze. However, instead of such an unfortunate fate, he was met with an overwhelming warmth that soothed him immensely; he felt protected, safe, comfortable, and… happy. All of the feelings you had introduced to him ever since you’d made your way into his life was what he felt in that moment, except it was tenfold. He never wanted to be brought out of this fire, his entire body relaxing as he continued to hold onto the creature’s leg. However, the sound of gurgles and grunts reminded him of his current goal, his father’s life was still being threatened. And as much as he deserved to be hurt like he hurt others, he shouldn’t be killed.

In his moment of clarity, he opened his eyes and looked up at the creature’s face and didn’t know what to do. However, he acted before he could think much more. “Mama!! Mama, come back please!! Y-you have to let go!!” He called out, hoping to reach you from wherever you were currently. “Mama, please!!”

The sound of his pleading causes the creature to pause momentarily before looking down, finally noticing the small child who was currently clinging to its leg, fresh tears running down his chubby cheeks. Pain. Hurt. Need. Heartbreak. A child so young shouldn’t be feeling these things.

Everything that comes after happens in just mere seconds, though it feels like it occured in slow motion. Enji was dropped to the ground, gasping for air, catching up on some much needed oxygen, and the creature reached down to scoop Dabi up into one of its hands, pushing him into its chest where you currently were. As soon as he was safe within the confines of the creatures body you were quick to bring the small child to you. The shadowy figure made space and held the two of you inside of it as you cradled him in your arms as best as you could with your belly still in-tow. Shakingly, you cupped Dabi’s face in your hands and began to wipe away his tears with your thumbs. “I’m so sorry, Dabi. You shouldn’t have had to do that. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” The sound of your voice and the concern in your eyes causes Dabi to sob, fresh tears beginning to fall as he wailed. “Mama!! I-I thought you were g-gonna kill… kill dad an’— an’ get e-e-executed..!!”

“What? Oh no, no, baby. It’s okay, you don’t have to worry. Mama’s here, okay? We’re okay, everything’s gonna be alright.” You were quick to reassure him, holding onto him for dear life. Nothing else seemed to matter to you in the moment, not even your husband’s gaze that was staring at what you had become. You were more focused on making sure that Dabi was okay and safe.

Inside of the creature was where the two of them currently resided, the creature remaining as it was as it discreetly observed its surroundings. Surprisingly, the ‘room’ you were in was completely black but you were still able to see things clearly around you, including what was going on outside of the creature’s body, almost like you were in a protective glass box despite the outside of the creature’s body being jet black and opaque.

Enji had managed to catch his breath again, a hand on his throat as he measured the level of damage you’d done. The crumpled man stared at the creature that swallowed you and Dabi up with an unreadable expression, his mind swarming with thoughts that even he couldn’t fully comprehend. The most prominent thought that seemed to prevail above all was the fact that he was proud.

Proud of the fact that his wife, his Queen was strong enough to defend herself when her safety was threatened, this new form, whatever it was, reminded him of his own technique where he would engulf the entirety of his body in flame, the fire going as far to even engulf his skeletal system with flames- the sight of it was simply his skeleton on fire.

Slowly, he stood on his feet and the creature seemed to watch him closely, taking note of every move he made, no-doubt ready to strike defensively if it called for that line of action even while still remaining in its squatting position it was still towering over the King.

The two of them, the creature and Enji, appeared to be in a silent staring contest of sorts, almost daring each other to do something even remotely hamrful to the other. As one would expect, the Hellflame user had many questions he wished to ask, but he wouldn’t get the time to ask said questions as the creature began to speak despite its lack of mouth.

“If you bring harm to my user again, I will have no other choice than to consider you as a threat and will eliminate you if such action is called for. I will strike you back with the same force, and perhaps more.”

It’s voice was androgynous, his eyes squinting with each tonal transition of words as they pointed a smokey finger at your husband who appeared to be taken aback by the sentient creature. You had been stunned as well, still holding Dabi in your arms as the creature proceeded to sink down towards the ground, its lower body pouring into a river of smoke that steadily fell until you were back on your feet, currently propping Dabi on one of your hips as you held him. Terrifyingly enough, as the smoke cleared, fanning itself around your now standing form, you scowled at the man in front of you, piggybacking off of your protector’s words. “I don’t wish to see your face now, later, or even after that. You disgust me. You need to leave right now." You stated, leaving no room for argument as you glared at Enji, your resolve and irritation was as clear as day.

He stood still. Staring at you, scrutizining your facial expression and whatever may be going on behind those fierce eyes that had gotten you married to him in the first place. And then, without a word, he turned on his heels and walked away from you, soon passing through the doors that led out to where you were. As soon as he was gone, you relaxed, letting out a breath as you carefully put Dabi onto his feet and then sunk to your knees, digging your nails into the dirt as you attempted to wrap your head around what had just happened and why it had happened. You’d never done such a thing before, and no one had ever told you you could even do something as remotely as possible this. Your awakened power had a sentient being attached to it? Did it lie dormant inside of you at all times? You had to speak to your parents as soon as you possible could to try and get those answers.

…

From Enji’s perspective, this power appeared to have been awoken by your maternal instincts and the need to protect yourself and the life within you. As he walked down the castle halls, he rubbed at his neck, taking note of the tender, irritated skin, this had been the last thing he'd expected to happen. On one hand, he was glad she’d managed to strike back at him, but on the other hand, he grew excited wondering what their child would have once she was born, would she have a combination of their powers or would she inherit only one in its entirety? Under his pride and excitement was also bewilderment.

Passing by a few servants on his short journey to his office, he paid no attention to the others who seemed to be tripping over themselves to try and move out of his way, though a great majority had taken note of the bruising on his neck as they looked towards his back. Where had he gotten that from?

Once he was in the privacy of his office, he shut the door behind him and approached his desk, taking a seat as he began to further ponder their situation. He had reacted like his mother. He struck Y/N just like how his mother would often strike his father when he didn’t do something correctly to her. He never struck back, no matter how many times Enji would question the late King, wondering why he never stuck up for himself and just took the abuse with a smile. Distinctly, he remembered asking the older man one day when he had just turned around ten why he allowed his mother to hit him without consequence.

"She means well, I know it’s difficult for her to express her emotions verbally so physically expressing it allows me to understand her better.” The man had explained with a smiling bruised face, groaning when he’d stretched his split lip a little too far to offer a reassuring smile.

You had done something his father failed to do, you had struck Enji in retaliation and didn’t just sit back and take what he’d given you. It filled him with a sense of uncertainty, as well as… exuberance.

…

Back outside, you had slowly regained your strength, sitting back slowly on your legs as you noticed Dabi staring at you with a hairy look in his eyes, making you fully remember what you were doing and who you were currently with. “Ah sh- shoot. I’m sorry you had to see… whatever that was, Dabi– Ah, fuck, where’s Keigo? Keigo!” “‘m right here, Your Majesty!” You felt a slight gust of wind to your right and took note of Keigo who had flown down from a tree nearby once the King had disappeared, making his way over to where the two of you were currently. Sharply inhaling, you were quick to apologize again. “I’m sorry for scaring you both. I didn’t mean to turn into a monster-” “No! You weren’t a monster! You were… were-” Dabi had cut you off in an attempt to make you feel better but couldn’t seem to figure out what word he wanted to use, thankfully, he wasn’t alone. “-cool!!” Keigo yelled, striking a quirky pose after he’d finished Dabi’s sentence for him. “You went like- ‘pow pow’! And then ya turned into fire ‘n were so freakin’ tall!!! I thought ya were gonna set the trees on FIRE!” The tiny blond rambled, attempting to reenact the ‘fighting moves’ you had done, swinging wildly at the air as he continued to babble about how cool you were. You and Dabi watched as he continued his little reenactment, no-doubt dramatizing what had really happened, you couldn’t help but laugh quietly, the mood rising thanks to the little boy’s excitement. Moving to sit beside you on the grass, Dabi gently grabbed your hand and held it, even with your hand easily dwarfing his tiny one, hoping that the gesture would make you feel better as Keigo continued his story. You were glad you weren’t alone at the moment, but you were a bit apprehensive about the fact that the two of them had witnessed such a traumatizing scene. You were unsure of what to say, you could think of a million and one things but none of them seemed right.

A few minutes had passed before Keigo had finished his excited retelling of what had occurred, the little birdie boy seemed to have tuckered himself out from shadowboxing whatever invisible entity he’d created with his mind. Soon after, an idea came to mind as you looked to your side and down at Dabi with a small smile, deciding to use this difficult situation to your advantage.

“How do you feel about us going to visit grandma and grandpa? I’m sure they’d be plenty happy to see you.”

The sudden question caused the boy to instantly spark up with joy, eagerly nodding his head with a bit of a twinkle in his eyes. Even before your marriage to Enji, your parents have treated Dabi like their first grandchild, smothering him with all sorts of affection and material things— something he had yet to receive from his blood grandmother. Though you were saddened briefly by such news, you didn’t exactly like Enji’s mother, she wasn’t someone you’d sit down to have tea with willingly, but you tolerated her for the sake of everything else.

After hearing Dabi’s answer you were quick to nod and stand up, eager to clean up and leave, however, to your surprise, Minji had appeared out of thin air, almost as if she had a sixth sense, picking up the bottom of her dress to hurriedly approach you, you had nearly missed her entrance but thankfully Keigo was quick to call out to her and ran to hug her middle. As soon as she was in front of you, she began to speak, moving her hands around wildly which was something you had learned the woman had a tendency to do when she was feeling overwhelmed with emotion and also had a tendency to ramble.

“Y/N! What in the world?! The other servants told me you were out here and about the King coming to confront you… Are you alright? Shall I fetch some coolant gel or bandages or gauze or perhaps some ice or should I get the castle doc-“

You were quick to grab a hold of her hands, cutting her off as you encased them both between your hands and gave them a gentle squeeze in an attempt to put her mind at rest, and fortunately, it seemed to work when she stopped fumbling over her words and simply looked at you expectantly. Sharply inhaling, your jaw clenched for a split second before relaxing again, a small smile appearing instead. “I’m fine, Minji. I promise. I just plan on spending a few days in Tenebris with Dabi and my parents, perhaps my brother if he’s not busy with his suitors.”

Minji was quick to nod, taking a quick glance around at the surrounding area before taking note of the remnants of your impromptu picnic that had been all but demolished by the two growing boys nearby, as well as yourself. “Kei Kei and I will clean up here. You two can run along, please tell your mother I said ‘hello’.”

“But-“

“Nope. Nada. I am not going to let you clean, baby bird and I can handle it. Can’t we, baby?” She asked, looking down at her son with fondness, he chirped in agreement and she reached down to ruffle his fluffy locks of blond, nodding with determination immediately afterwards. “See? We can handle it. You two run away now or I’ll chase ya off with a broom.” She threatened, although her words had a playful edge to them, you knew she was serious, earning a light chuckle from you as you squeezed her hands one last time and then let go of them, allowing her to immediately roll up her sleeves. Despite having such a rebellious set of traits, you had gone quite close to Minji in the last several months, mostly because her words of your souls being connected had interested you, however, you had come to the conclusion that getting to know her had to be one of the best decisions you’d ever made, now considering her a dear friend. And although you were friendly with all the staff, treating them as actual human beings, she had managed to crawl her way into a special part of your heart and you were forever grateful for her in a variety of ways- from helping with morning sickness, to rubbing your back when you were randomly crying because of hormonal imbalances, and also prepared your nasty little cravings whenever you wanted them, even if you’d tell her you didn’t want her to bother doing such trivial matters.

“Goodness, I’m starting to think you’re even more stubborn than a bull… fine. I don’t want a broom on the back of my kneecaps…” You murmured, feeling a tiny hand slip into yours after you had let go of Minji‘s. Looking briefly to the side you smiled at Dabi. “Ready to go, hun?” He nodded and then exchanged goodbyes with Keigo and Minji, then the two of you were on your way, heading back into the castle and ready to pack for a few days out.

…

Through the grace of some kind of universal power, you had managed to avoid the servants all-together, stealthily packing yourself a bag of necessities with Dabi’s help, and then went onto pack a bag for Dabi, making sure to bring an extra because you just knew your parents had some kind of gifts waiting for him when the two of you would arrive.

And with some luck, as well as a few breaks here and there for you to catch your breath, you’d manage to get yourself a carriage with a driver, thanks to Keiko, aka Minji’s husband and Keigo’s father, who also happened to be the head of the castle’s farm. Before you know it, your bags are packed into the carriage, and you and Dabi are comfortably sitting inside of it, watching as the forest passes you by, the sound of the carriage wheels rolling and the rhythmic click of horse shoes. It’s enough to soothe you to sleep somehow, even the rock of the carriage had abided in lulling you to sleep. Following your lead, Dabi slumps over into a deep sleep as well, carefully leaning against your side with his head against your arm. It was probably for the better that the two of you would remain asleep, seeing how the trip to Tenebris would take quite a bit of time, you’d be lucky if you reached the castle before the sun fully set. Not that you minded, it would distract you from yourself and the road that had led you to this point. Would you tell your parents about what Enji had done? Or would you keep it to yourself, you had yet to decide, your tired brain emptying itself as you further fell into a dreamless sleep.

The amount of time you’d gotten to shut your eyes seemed to be cut short at the sudden gentle call of your title, along with a light rasp on the carriage door that you sat closest to. Stirring in your sleep, your eyes slowly fluttered open, blurriness soon morphing into shapes that you could now comprehend. With a slow blink, you managed to register the sight of the Driver’s face who looks a bit nervous, though he does relax a bit upon seeing your gaze shift to him, immediately, he looks down and away from your eyes, the tips of his ears red as he repeats himself.

“We’ve arrived at your desired destination, Your Majesty.”

Taking heed to his words, you carely sat up straight in your seat and covered your mouth to hide a bit of an abrasive yawn, your eyes watering just the slightest in retaliaton, you then nodded thankfully to the Driver as he disappeared, only to be replaced by the Coach who came to open the door for you, ready to help you down once you were ready to step out. Noticing the sleeping preschooler who was just on the brink of drooling on your dress sleeve, you reached up and lightly ruffled Dabi’s hair, chuckling at how adorable he looked passed out on your shoulder with his mouth ajar. “Time to wake up, kiddo. Your grandparents are gonna be so happy to see you, unless you want me to call someone to come and carry you to be-” “Mm mm… ‘m awake!” He drowsily shouted and sat up as quickly as he possibly could, only to go veering off the side and nearly toppling off of the seat. You were quick to use your awakened power, creating a hand of shadows to cradle his sleeping form that sprouted from your back like a tree branch. This had become a bit of a common thing, Dabi was a bit clumsy, but then again, what four year old wasn’t? You would have been more surprised if he had the balance of a flamingo. With a soft laugh to yourself, the Coach opened the carriage door a bit wider and you slowly stood up, a hand under your belly as you furrowed your brows together, focusing on keeping your own balance as you descended the carriage steps with the help of the Coach, the shadowed hand cradling your son soon following after you. The Coach then shut the door behind you, bowing as you thanked him, making sure to tip him and the Coach handsomely with a few gold pieces, which they joyously accepted with bright smiles.

Soon following, your personal guard, assigned from the Ignitis Kingdom dropped from his white steed that was following behind the carriage and exhaled, handing the lead to a servant from your kingdom that had come running down the front steps of the castle to greet the unexpected guests. Ah, that’s right, you had no time to tell your parents that you would be dropping by, you could only hope they were actually here and not somewhere else, no-doubt doing diplomatic duties.

Takeo, your guard, came to stand silently by your side, the dark haired man had a tall, rugged stature, with unblinking, deep set carmine eyes, a prim and properly trimmed beard and mustache covering half of his face, nursing a scar that went from one side of his face to the other, directly across his nose. To match such a burly man was a pristine outfit made for a modern techoknight of his ranking, the red signifying one's loyalty to the Kingdom of flames.. He rarely spoke, only to answer any questions that he was asked, even then he barely said a few words at a time. You had appreciated his hardwork but it was almost like he was a shadow of sorts, often frightening you when he made himself known to you randomly.

Yet another maid, began to descend down the stairs, heading directly for you, a bright smile across her face.

“Princess! Oh, no, I mean, Queen Y/N, it has been a long time! Your parents will be elated when they see you’ve come by surprise! Please come along! Ah! Shall I fetch Freya to come and carry you?” Blinking, a smile slowly spread across your face as you instantly recognized the older woman who was also the headmaid, she’d been around since before you were born, but still had the energy of an excitable child, along with a mouth to match. Abashsh, directly translating to friendly, talkative, and affable, it was almost as if her name had bestowed upon her unwavering future.

Soon enough, she had stopped in front of you, a bright and cheery smile adorning her face as she makes it a necessity to grab a hold of your cheeks, giving them the softest squish as she coos about how much you’ve grown since she’s seen you, as well as how much you appeared to be glowing thanks to the blossoming bud in your stomach. Her rambling would go on for hours if Takeo hadn’t cleared his throat, causing the older woman to look briefly from your face and then to him, blinking in surprise as he opened his mouth to speak, timber voice matching completely with his mysterious aura.

“Apologies. I don’t mean to interrupt your heartfelt reunion, however, I don’t think the Lady should be standing on her feet for too much longer…” He murmured, glancing between you and Abashsh. The older woman then gasped, realizing what she had been doing. Rather dramatically, she slapped a hand over her mouth and cursed in Arabic, quickly apologzing as well for her rambling. “You’re right! Let’s get you up these stairs and somewhere to sit, my dear! I still can’t believe you were just a baby one day ago and now my tiny royal jasmine is having an even tinier royal jasmine. Oh my goodness, I think I’m finally getting old…” The woman whined, knowing damn well that she didn’t look a day over twenty-five thanks to her awakened power that directly involved mother nature; straight bleach blonde hair fell down her back and over her front, perfectly framing her square shaped face, brown almond eyes, smooth bronze skin and hooked nose. She was quick to grab your hand afterwards and began leading you up the front stairs, Takeo following closely beside you while you continued to carry Dabi up behind you through the use of your own power.

…

Enji sat in deep thought behind his desk, his elbows propped atop his desk as he remained deep in thought, hardened gaze seeming to map out the intricate carvings on the wood door that was currently closed, his chin resting atop his interlocked fingers. There were many things running through his mind, however, his self-reflection is soon interrupted by a knock on the door, causing him to blink and wet his drying eyes. Letting out a gruff affirmative noise, he signaled that whoever was behind the door could enter. And so they did, quite shakingly I might add as they held a tangerine-colored envelope in his hand, which only meant one thing. Just the sight of it had the King of Ignitis flaring his nostrils, already catching a whiff of the disgusting smell of tangerines, his least favorite fruit, belonging to his least favorite Kingdom that his father had created a treaty with and forced Enji to be allied to for reasons that he was ashamed to admit well after his father's passing. With a quick swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip, he spoke.

“Are you just going to stand there staring at me or are you going to bring me that letter?”

Squeaking, he rushed over and presented the letter with a quick bow, holding the letter out with both hands, thumbs atop the envelope, while the rest of his fingers curled into fists, presenting rather submissively. Enji took the letter, and immediately, the servant disappeared, hurriedly shutting the door behind him, though he made sure not to actually slam it.

With clear frustration, a grim expression, Enji turned the envelope to further examine it, taking note of the sender.

The Kingdom of Solis, King Toshinori Yagi.

Enji had to resist the urge to tear the letter up and throw it like confetti, purely out of bitterness. Thankfully, there was a better alternative, causing him to slice open the top of the envelope to retrieve the letter tucked away inside of it. While holding the letter in one hand, and the actual envelope in the other, he set fire to the envelope and watched with satisfaction as it turned into dust, fluttering down onto the top of his desk. He then exhaled, hesitating to glance towards the letter and actually read it. However, his eyes betrayed him as he began to scan over the words, his face going through a variety of emotions. He was coming.

His rival, a man who’s strength he was threatened by despite being four years younger than the man who probably had no idea that Enji constantly challenged him in his mind. Why did his rival need to come to his castle to personally congratulate him on his marriage as well as his upcoming heir? He was never friendly with the man, in fact, the alliance was proposed by Enji’s father whilst he was still alive, was King Toshinori planning on waging war?

Alas, it seemed he would never be able to get a moment of peace when his office door was suddenly opened, revealing his mother and her personal servant, who opened the door, quaking in her boots at the fact that she was forced to intrude upon the King’s privacy because of the old Queen’s inability to understand boundaries.

With a huff, Eiko sauntered over towards where her son was upon spotting him with the opened letter and snatched it from his hands, diligently reading through it without asking him if she could do such a thing. The words caused her to snort, unbelieving of what she was reading.

“Hah! What are the odds? The King of Solis humbly apologizes for not attending your wedding and wants to give you a gift. I wonder what it could be. A blade to the throat? Or perhaps he’ll set my castle ablaze.”

“Mother- don’t you know how to knock? This doesn’t concern you.” He growled at the older woman, standing to snatch the letter back from her to fold it up and tuck it away into one of the drawers in his desk.

“Hah. How do you plan to rub your victories in his face? I would hate to admit it, but perhaps your bride will work nicely if you flash her around him. She is conventionally pretty, after all. And you will have another heir soon, be sure to milk that for everything you've got. How old is he again and still does not have a queen or heir? Something must be wrong with him. Perhaps he is sterile… how unfortunate would that be, if he were to produce a heir, that child would be something to reckon with—”

Enji begrudgingly listened to his mother ramble, a blank expression across his face as he stared through her, an oncoming rush of thoughts swarming through his mind. There was no telling when Toshinori would appear. How would he be able to show off his Queen if she were giving him the cold shoulder?

At first, he did plan to give her her space, but this was an urgent matter. However, he was unsure of what to do to get back on your good side. He couldn't look to his mother for her advice, she never seemed to regret what she did, no matter how many times the late King would seem to slowly break under pressure. Before he could stop himself, a burning question rose and asked itself aloud for his mother's ears.

“Do you ever regret making Dad drive himself to the breaking point of taking his own life to escape you?”

[gyubby99]

@disneyanddisneyships oh i just thought of a VERY angsty idea

What if there was another time Mal confronted Alastor in the au where he cheated? But this time, it was for him letting Theo go to a duel at nineteen??

Like what if Mal, during that, turned into her full demon form and she was almost unrecognizable because of it? Like she was a fucking wild animal because she lost control of everything? Like my characterization of Mal is that she is holding back a lot of grudge in her life. She was a murderer in life so if she gets angry, she forgets control of herself and just loses it. She has a lot of pent up anger to those men she killed that was probably sent down there.

And she loved Theo. Emma was hurt as well. (In this au i think they are dating ok im changing things in my head) and Theo was too sweet for hell. He deserved to be in heaven. But he died before he got to do that.

Not to mention aponi..

A mother's heartbreak is one thing i wouldn't even wish upon my worst enemy.

Aponi was so, SO broken. That boy was all she had after al cheated.

So mal, knowing all of this, had a lot of rage in her.

She was determined to dethrone him.

She could stand a chance, but Alastor has more experience. She knows that.

But she's still willing to try

So she transforms in this demon form, her eyes glowing. She forgot about how she used to be friends with him. She set that aside because he's nothing but a prick to her now.

And there's a fight scene in my head where Mal in her full demon form just flies towards him, pinning him against the wall as she basically drools, and then alastor pushes her off, still trying to reason with her because he still loves aponi and knows that mal is her friend.

Then yk that Ray vs. Dr. Facilier's shadows scene before he died?

Al charges his shadows at her only for her to kick them or some sort of thing like that because her legs glow and stuff (also she fights them off with her eyes)

Then she charges against Alastor again.

Alastor then pulled the whole tentacles thing but she was quick as a bug. One tentacle caught her, but she cut it off, still focusing on Alastor.

Alastor felt a little.. nervous around her for the first time. Her rage was.. interesting.

Entertaining, even.

He was done reasoning with her and decided to just turn into his demon form as well.

Now Mal would've been scared, but in her mind was aponi's face when she collapsed on the ground crying, Emma locking herself up in the room, and more importantly, Theodore.

She knew once he was serious she wouldn't stand a chance

But she felt like for those three, she could atleast try.

Then another fight sequence. Mal does the "eye trick" but it never blinded him, it just sent him tumbling back a little. So, quick as a bug she took a chance

But Alastor was quicker and summoned a holy knife in his hands, but it wasn't to kill her. It was to scare her. She can heal from HIS attacks, so she was fearless. She's a sinner. Dead alone can't kill the dead. But with a holy equipment, you can.

.....but mal was too blinded by her anger like a wild animal lost in control and still drove straight to him, and Al, holding the knife, had stabbed her. In the gut, I think. She shrieks in pain, but still wrapped her hand around his neck. But it was no use. It was holy.

But Alastor still was in his full form, grinning as he'd won.

...not until Aponi walked into the scene. Then Al realized what he'd done.

He caused her another heartbreak.

But what was he meant to do?

Like, not completely hamilton but kinda following the story but with a very angsty twist i made up in my head lmfao

Also to add: this is one of the main parts of the reason why Vox killed Alastor. Cause Vox as both burr and jefferson... would be a lil weird because alastor endorsed vox to win against.. vox! So i think Your Obedient Servant would be very more interesting if this is what drove vox to kill alastor >:)

To each their own, though but this is my own lol

[readingwiththestars]

₊˚⊹♡ NOTHING LIKE THE MOVIES

["Trust me, Lib," I said, picturing her lips. "In a crowd of million ski masks, I'd still be able to find you."]

| ✮ 3 stars |

ᝰ.ᐟ ⊹ arc review thank you to netgalley + simon and schuster for providing me with an e-arc in exchange for an honest review

THOUGHTS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . [minor spoilers]

ok. i put this review off for a couple days cause i knew this was gonna be harder to write because i love lynn painter books, really. buuttt i was horribly disappointed with this one. i'm the biggest wesliz fan but... like yeah i cant even form coherent thoughts about it. like this was unnecessary there was no point in shattering their relationship to write this.

like it was good to see wes's pov and everything but it felt so... idk yeah. (see im still struggling so bad to find words.)

one thing i would formally like to invite lynn to STOP doing though is shoving every taylor/ pop culture reference on the planet into the book. like holy shit woman. i few is okay BUT NOT THAT MANY COME ON!!!! they were in the middle of a fucking argument and wes is quoting illicit affairs or some bullshit. usually i love finding little references on page but this felt like too much.

i feel like she's whipped out her computer and gone straight to some dog fanpage or just plainly scrolled through edits seeing people saying "this song is so wesliz coded" and shoved those songs into the book. there is an on page reference to in between reference saying its their montage song.

also um this shit: ”little liz can’t come to the phone right now. why? oh. because she’s dead.” and somehow when jack antonoff was randomly brought up??? like some people are good at weaving taylor swift lyrics into books. lynn you are not.

also lynn take this a plea to never use the word "growl" or "growled" in a sentence ever again when describing your male characters. and to never write this sentence “she’s one of the guys you know? she’s just… different,” EVER AGAIN. PLEASE.

WHAT I DID LIKE THO WAS THE TINY TINY CRUMBS OF BAILEYCHARLIE AND NICKEMELIE (even tho nick was only mentioned and i dont think emelie was even there but eh)

CHARACTERS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

liz - ok so weirdly enough she was the most tolerable and still intolerable at the same time. like she was so different from the liz in bttm the sunshiney, wearing dresses of all different colours and her love of romcoms. she was described as anti-love and was practically a full on different character seriously. if you liked the first book maybe dont have high expectations for nltm. like i do understand she had her heart broken and so obviously that makes sense for some of the change but it had been two years and as liz likes to say SO FUCKING MUCH "she's moved on, she's moved past it, its in the past" well for someone who's moved on you sure like to avoid the past a lot. also idk who tf she was trying to fool with that whole "i don't like wes, im over him." shit like gurl- you were literally kissing 2.5 seconds ago whats with the switching sides. and there was SO much about her leaving "little liz" behind. like what was so wrong with liking flowers and romcoms? and being a hopeless romantic and wearing bright colours?

wes - okay so it was quiet heartbreaking to hear abt wes's side of this book (except for the whole pursuing liz part) and i did feel sorry for him. but like what happened to the sweet, caring wes in the first book. and tell me why i had to read THIS sentence “climb on me like a good girl,” LIKE MY EYES LYNN WTF????? i did not sign up for this wes, like no stop telling me how obsessed you are with liz's lips or how she's a mythological sex goddess- boy sit ur ass down. and don't even get me started on the beginning of the book. WHAT WAS THAT SHIT? why was wes acting like a 7yr old excited for school and talking (so much) abt his love for scootering? SCOOTERING. LYNN PAINTER WHAT THE EVER LOVING HELL? SCOOTERING. DO YOU HAVE SOME OBSESSION WITH THEM OR SOMETHING? WHY DID THOSE DUMB THINGS KEEP SHOWING UP?? like tell me why i needed to read this shit: "i fucking loved the scooters ..... wes + scooters = HEA" ..... lynn.

QUOTES ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

im not going to bother to find any of these, see: im too lazy

all in all i still liked some points when both of them were acting normal. which is why its a 3. but i feel like this is leaning towards a hate review but yeah idk i cant actually pin point parts that i remember liking- also the ending??? what was that? it made no sense to me.

[manawari]

| AU — in which Sung Jin-woo broke up with Cha Hae-in because she was an S-Rank while he was just an E-Rank, which got him uneasy as he thought he was no longer deserving of her. (Past Lovers!AU).

"I. . . I can't do this anymore," said Jin-woo as he moved away from his girlfriend, causing her head to lose balance on his shoulder. "We need to be go on our separate ways."

"W— what?" Hae-in's eyes widened. "Did I do something wrong? Jin-woo—"

"No. I can't let you get involved with me any further, Hae-in. Things. . . Things are different now." Jin-woo slowly tore his gaze from her.

"What do you mean 'different'? You've been like this lately!" Hae-in protested. "It's you who started acting different, Jin-woo."

Because you're an S-Rank. It's ridiculous to see you be with a weak person as me. Jin-woo's throat tightened at the unspoken words — he was not stupid to ignore the growing gap between him and Hae-in. He was an E-Rank hunter, who often got looked down by others due to his inability to fight without getting injured; people laughed at him and mocked him for being soon to be dead if he took another misstep.

"You could just be using Hunter Cha to your advantage!"

"What did you do to bribe her into staying by your side? Surely, compared to her, you are hopeless."

"Her? Your girlfriend? HAHA! Real funny."

"You can't even lift your sword without struggling. How can you say you're a better match for her?"

"I'd rather see Hunter Cha with a D-Rank rather than you, a worthless E-Rank."

Cha Hae-in, on the other hand, was an S-Rank. She had awakened several months after him. As an S-Rank, her strength was one of a kind, being more powerful than most hunters and on par with the famous guild masters in the country. Tremendous attention had diverted to her the moment the mana sphere declared her rank.

Jin-woo was outside, waiting for the result of her evaluation, but only to hear an uproar surrounding his girlfriend. He immediately ran and squeezed through the crowd to reach Hae-in, shielding her from the overwhelming chorus of voices. He squeezed her hand in reassurance and dragged her away.

He knew she didn't like too much attention.

He knew her like the back of his hand.

. . . But now, Jin-woo felt she was slipping away. Everyone was familiar with her, which made it difficult for him to be in the same place as her. Not only they'd make fun of him for "leaning" on an S-Rank, they'd try to tell Hae-in that she was way too good to be with the weakest hunter on earth.

Jin-woo ignored them. He defended Hae-in against them and would only accept their harsh words about him, letting them penetrate through his chest. But the more he absorb those words, the more they crawled to his mind, digging like sharp claws until it bleed.

It got to the point where he chose to let go.

"You promised! You promised that you'd be by my side!"

He left her in that bench. Not a last glance or word. Hae-in was left with questions and heartbreak, broken by none other than the boy who became her first love — they went to the same school, became friends, and Jin-woo had confessed his feelings to her during a school festival. All memories crumbled into ashes.

"All you had to do is not listen to them!"

"They were insulting you, Hae-in. Because of me!"

"And so what? Those people have no idea who you really are." Hae-in argued. "I understand that you are hurt on my behalf, but their words mean nothing to me — you're more than what they believe."

"They are not stopping until I am no longer involved with you."

"So, what are you supposed to do then, Jin-woo? Tell them that they are right?"

". . ."

They had fought about it before. They would spend days talking to each other until Jin-woo had given in to apologize to her. Still, he knew Hae-in was more hurt by his words rather than other people's, which pained him to see what he had been doing to her.

He became the reason of Hae-in's tears.

So, he became the person who broke her heart as well.

Jin-woo convinced himself that it was only for the best. He'd watch the news and see her beautiful face on the TV, standing confidently amidst the cameras next to her guild master, Choi Jong-in, who made his speech in front of the crowd. He was happy for her, knowing she was in a place in her life where she rightfully be. . . Though, it didn't stop his heart from aching.

"Do you still love her, big brother?" Jin-ah asked him one time.

Jin-woo closed his mouth in hesitation, the spoon in his hand halting midway. "I. . ." No, it had already been months since the last time he saw her. Things must've changed. "Jin-ah, it's been so long. My feelings for her have disappeared since that day." He answered.

He had to move on.

And he was certain that Hae-in had already did.

Lee Ju-hee, his only friend— however, had a different opinion. Being a healer who had to constantly run to him and mend whatever wounds were in his body, Jin-woo somehow managed to form a connection with her despite being scolded first before Ju-hee initiated an actual conversation with him.

"I still find it amazing how you met Cha Hae-in first before she became a hunter," she said to him as they walked together in an empty pavement in the park. "You're one lucky guy, Jin-woo."

"Why did you bring that topic up all of a sudden?" He questioned her.

"Nothing. I just remembered it." chuckled Ju-hee. Then, she let out a sigh. "You know, every time I think about it, I can't help but feel like there's still hope."

"For what?"

"For you two," she said. "I don't know Hae-in personally, or what exactly happened between the both of you, but it seems that you still have feelings for her."

Jin-woo's steps halted abruptly. "How. . . How can you say that? Ju-hee, I was the one who had chosen to broke up with her."

"You chose to break up with her because you weren't brave enough to stand up for your relationship," Ju-hee told him. "And I can tell you haven't forgotten about her — what she was once to you." The edge of her lips curved into a smile. "Listen to your heart. You deserve to be happy, you know? Make it as your promise to me."

Jin-woo sighed. I was the one who hurt her. "Fine, I'll be happy, Ju-hee."

"Also, promise me that you mustn't let go of her again. If, your paths cross."

He chuckled.

As if they'd meet again—

And for sure, he was nothing but a stranger to her. A terrible memory. The root of her own heartbreak.

She cried a lot because of him. She was the one who kept holding on when he was about to let go.

Since then, Jin-woo was all by himself. Ju-hee left her hunting job while he was stuck with getting stronger. Overtime, he was gradually peeling from the person he used to be— weak, cowardice, and useless. His life changed anew. It felt as if decades had passed when it was merely a few weeks.

His thin body, prone to injuries and always one step away from death, became built and formidable. His sister barely recognized him when he walked out of his bedroom. Jin-ah mocked and teased him while Jin-woo could only snort at her.

Life had started to become quite good to him.

. . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . .

. . . . . .

". . . Should I go for it?" His adrenaline pumped against his veins, and his fingers twitched as his dagger continued to form out thin air. Jin-woo let out a grin when—

"What are you doing over there?"

He froze.

Could it be?

"I asked you a question. What are you doing?"

He could feel her presence. And she was inching closer and closer, her steps were almost audible through the heavy silence in the cave.

"I got lost and ended up here," he answered.

"Then, get away from there. That's where the boss lives."

Jin-woo lowered his helmet over his countenance and turned away from his spot, maintaining his gaze low from the S-Rank hunter's scrutinizing gaze. He was about to walk past her when something suddenly tugged on the lace of his I.D. . . But luckily, he was quick to yank it back and grasped on the card to keep it out of her sight.

"Wha— hey! I just wanted to know who you are!" Cha Hae-in exclaimed.

Of course, she didn't recognize him. In her eyes, he was just a miner, a stranger. But to him. . . She was his past love — the chance he had wasted, the heart he had broken, and the love he had thrown away. He was no longer a guy with unruly black hair and soft features on his face, and as he stood before her, shielding his true emotions behind a blunt visage, Cha Hae-in waited for an answer with her eyes fixed sharply on him.

It was as if she had never changed.

Same beauty. Same eyes.

Yet, a different heart.

"I. . ." He swallowed. His lips curled into a forced smile. "I am Park Jin-sung, Vice-master Cha. Pleased to meet you in person."

[justathoughtfulangel]

Nothing But The Truth ~ Kai Parker One Shot

*not my gif

Pairing: siphon!Kai X witch!Saltzman!Reader

Word Count: 3,388

Requested?: Yes

This is a sequel to "I'd Rather You Lie." I've done my best to make sure this piece is readable as a one shot, but if you'd like to read the prequel, please read it here.

This IS a reader insert fic; I just don’t like writing with Y/N in the place of names. Use Rosalie/Rosie/Rose as a placeholder for Y/N :)

Description: Kai betrayed her trust, used her for his own selfish means. Now, he can't bear the pain and hurt he's caused her. Malachai understands now that he loves her, but is love enough to mend a broken heart?

Warnings: angst/heartbreak and minor mature language

The story begins after the break! I hope you enjoy reading it :)

“I’d rather you lie.” 

It was easier for Rosalie when he lied. It had been easier to believe it was real. Now, she’d heard the lies so often she couldn’t possibly know what was true anymore. Kai’s ramblings came to a halt. Rose’s smile was more akin to a grimace. There were no tears in her eyes; there was nothing in her eyes as if there was no soul behind them.

Malachai had hurt many people in his life. He’d murdered his siblings, and he’d spent years torturing himself. Somehow, this emptiness in her was worse than all the damage he’d done combined. “Rosalie…” She just shook her head, walking passed him. There was still no emotion on her face as she hugged her winter jacket around her body. Kai watched her walk away, feeling the snow settle in his hair. The cold did not compare to all the pain that consumed him. 

He tried to take a shaky breath. With a choked gasp and unbearable pain in his heart, Malachai watched her until she became a speck of dust in the distance. The worst part of it all? She didn’t turn to look back at him once.

~

Was it his fault for breaking her heart, or was it hers for allowing him to hold it in the first place? Her brain and heart grappled over this question every night, making it impossible to sleep. Thanks to Kai, she couldn’t return to the life she’d once loved. There was nothing left inside her that would allow her to love. 

It wasn’t as if Rose was a stranger to pain. She’d been abandoned by people before. The people who brought her into the world had died. The ones who adopted her into their home as a child saw her as only a paycheck. Even Alaric was dead for a few years before miraculously coming alive again. None of those heartaches had destroyed her in the same way Malachai had.

Perhaps it was because it was her first time truly being in love. She couldn’t feel anything anymore, not even anger. Though her mind and heart disagreed on whose fault it was, they both knew feeling the agony of that betrayal would consume her.

For now, all she could do was continue existing in an endless cycle – school, work, Dad, friends, eat, sleep, repeat. ~

A new semester was starting after winter break, and Rosalie considered it a fresh start. She would put herself out there again; she’d try to come back to life. Rose was sitting in a large lecture hall, waiting for the professor of her creative writing course to arrive. She twirled her stylus around her fingers, making random doodles on her iPad. Someone sat down a few seats away from her, but she paid them no mind. 

The hall continued to fill, and Professor Smith arrived ten minutes late. She was fun, and her quippy nature made up for the tardiness. Listening to a professor review a syllabus wasn’t boring for once. Rosalie was paying close attention, jotting down miscellaneous notes about due dates and assignment details. 

“Your final paper, worth 30% of your grade, will be a writing piece: eight to ten pages long with attention to all topics and techniques we’ll review throughout the semester. Students who do best on this assignment never fail to present their learnings in a unique, refreshing way. Nothing should limit your imagination. Isn’t that right, boy who can’t stop staring at the girl in his row?”  Rose was looking at the professor when she singled out the student not listening. As did the other students, she, too, looked around to see who the professor was scolding. Her grip slackened on her stylus as she heard his voice a few feet away. She would know that voice anywhere. “Y-yes, Professor. I’m sorry.” The professor nodded and continued. Malachai stole one more glance in her direction when the professor’s back was turned, and his eyes met Rosalie’s after weeks of not seeing each other.

~

Before he could talk to her, Rose rushed out of the lecture hall. Was he stalking her now? Swallowing away the bitter taste in her mouth, Rosalie instinctively made her way to her dad’s office. Glancing at the time, she knew Alaric was giving a lecture. Unlocking the door with magic and locking it behind her, Rose collapsed onto the couch. Her head fell into her hands, and her foot tapped against the ground anxiously. 

Rosalie hadn’t yet asked her dad for Kai’s true story. She didn’t want to know it anymore; she told herself she didn’t care about him and whatever was causing him pain. Whether she would admit it or not, Rosalie was lying to herself, just as Kai had lied to her for weeks. 

She stayed in the same spot for hours, finally looking up when she heard the door unlock. Alaric smiled at his daughter, unsurprised to find her here. This was a first-day-of-the-semester tradition for them – tea in his office and unpacking what happened in their new classes. Ric turned on the hot water kettle, pulling out mugs and tea for them. He only noted her troubles when she greeted him without energy, and his smile faded quickly. “Rosalie? What’s the matter?” 

Rose sighed deeply, not knowing where to start. “I need you to tell me everything about Kai, Dad. Please.” The turmoil had been suppressed long enough; she bit the bullet and watched Ric’s expression twitch. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Hot water and honey were poured into their mugs. Rose kicked her shoes off, curled her legs under her, and claimed the steaming cup of tea. The silence was broken only when Alaric sat beside her on the couch.

He was torn about how much he should involve her but hiding the truth from Rose allowed Kai to hurt her. Ric wouldn’t hide things from her anymore. “Malachai is Josette’s twin brother.” A confused expression came over Rose’s face immediately. “Jo is in her early 40s. How is that possible?” To his credit, Alaric told her everything without biased embellishments, telling her the story exactly as Jo told him. 

Of course, even he didn’t know the story from Malachai’s perspective. 

He told her about how Kai was meant to merge with Jo and become the leader of the Gemini coven, how he was never worthy of the position. When he found out the thing he lusted after for twenty-two years would never be his, Kai snapped, murdering four of his little siblings in cold blood. Kai stuck a hunting knife into Josette and took out her spleen. Ultimately, he was after Lucas and Olivia. The Coven locked him up in a prison world, and he escaped when Bonnie and Damon ended up there after the Other Side collapsed.

Rosalie listened to everything, finding it impossible to believe that the guy she knew – the guy she thought she knew – was capable of all of this. Even as she left her dad’s office, Rose repeated the story in her mind. There had to be more to this story. No one was born evil. Something must have happened to Kai - something so horrible and cruel that his only choice was to protect himself this way. 

Alaric had heard the story from Jo, but he hadn’t seen the tears Kai shed when no one was around to see them. Whatever caused him to snap tormented him even now, and no one should live that way. Despite this, Rosalie didn’t have it in her to forgive him. Maybe it was selfish, but he’d used someone who trusted him for reasons she could barely justify. 

The door to her apartment closed behind her. Trying to push the thoughts away, Rose walked over to her fridge. She pulled it open, and the wave of cool air sent her mind reeling back…

Even on the drive back to Mystic Falls, her thoughts were consumed with Kai. He’d kissed her, and then he disappeared. What kind of decent person does that? Rosalie had begun to think that maybe she didn’t know Malachai at all. Her thoughts would be proven right a few minutes later.  When Rose entered the Salvatore House, she heard the flames of the fireplace crackling and voices coming from the living room. “How do you know my daughter?” Her dad was threatening someone, holding them by their neck as he tilted the chair towards the fireplace. Damon forced him away, trying to calm Alaric down. “Easy, Papa Bear. Kai’s going to cooperate. Talk. Now.”  Kai? Her Kai? No… “Didn’t you know? I’ve been dating her for a while. Here I thought she told you everything, Alaric. Of course, she thinks it’s real, which is sweet, really. At least someone among us has a heart.”  Kai kept on talking, but she heard none of it. It was as if her senses had been disconnected from her brain. “She’s just so welcoming… it was so easy to step into her life. I could get into all of yours and take what I’ve always wanted. But you really didn’t need to torture me to get that out of me, did you? I think I’m an excellent communicator.”  Damon and her dad had already seen Rose standing there, and when Damon forced Kai’s chair around, she registered the briefest flicker of remorse in his eyes. She didn’t have it in her to care, not right now. All she did was turn around and leave. The air outside felt so much colder than she could bear. It bit her cheeks as tears filled her eyes. Rosalie refused to let them fall. She would not cry over someone who was using her.

The tears that had refused to spill all those months ago came bubbling to the surface. Her knees buckled below her, and her hands rushed to cover her mouth as a pained scream came out. All the agony at his betrayal created burning trails on her cheeks, and as she curled up on the ground, her shoulders shook with each sob. 

Rosalie finally let herself admit that she had loved Malachai: she probably still did. She’d put her heart into someone’s hands for the first time and this was what she earned in return. Nothing in her life felt fair. How many more people would hurt her before she could finally be free? 

The anguish she’d failed to acknowledge and process now took over. It subsided hours later when the chill from the open fridge had coated her spine and the door beeped in protest. Rose gave it a weak push and it creaked shut. 

She’d loved him, and now she didn’t think she could love anymore.

~

Caroline smacked a piece of paper down on the table in front of Rosalie. “The annual Whitmore Bitter Ball is on Saturday, and you’re coming.” Rose picked up the flyer, smiling without amusement at the clashing black and grey letters. “Come onnnn, you’re the one that’s most bitter in love out of any of us.” 

Elena and Bonnie gave Caroline a withering stare, while Rose just shook her head. “Sorry… insensitive.” She cleared her throat, trying to dispel the awkwardness. “You should come, Rosalie. We all deserve a night out.” Elena was gently encouraging in stark contrast to Caroline. Rose didn’t know how she felt about it. “Okay, dance or no dance, at least come dress shopping with us? We need your opinions.” Truthfully, it sounded dreadful. After a long blink, Rosalie smiled and agreed. “Fine. It’ll be just like high school.” It wouldn’t be for her; it would be for her friends.

A few hours later, Rosalie was walking between aisles upon aisles of dresses. Some were gaudy and drew way too much attention. Some were too plain for a ball. Then again, maybe plain was best – something that could help her hide in the shadows as she attended the dance for the sake of her worried friends. 

Rose ultimately chose a silken, black gown. It had an attractive sweetheart neckline and golden embellishments around the waist. The skirt didn’t puff out obnoxiously, and with a golden mask to abide by the masquerade policy, it was the perfect disguise.

~

On Saturday evening, Rosalie found herself standing in the corner of the grand ballroom. People were all over the place: some drunk, some dancing, some crying, and some doing all of the above. Rose watched people move about behind her mask, twirling the straw around in her gin and soda with extra limes. She’d promised Caroline she’d stay out for an hour, and thankfully, the hour was almost up. 

Downing her drink, Rosalie walked across the dance floor. She had managed to artfully avoid the masses until she reached the bar. The glass clinked down onto the granite counter, right beside someone also attending this ball alone. He turned around slowly, setting down his own glass. They looked at each other silently for a few heavy seconds, neither saying a word. 

Malachai’s eyes shined in the dim lighting of the ballroom, swimming with numerous feelings yet glistening with the joy of seeing her. Rosalie’s expression remained passive, unreadable. She’d cried her heart out already. What was the next step in the process of healing from heartbreak? 

“I don’t know how a ball for the brokenhearted could be such a hit,” Kai said. Rose smiled without amusement, looking around at the crowd once again. “You never know, maybe lots of people have broken hearts around here.” Malachai swallowed away the knot of emotion in his throat, his eyes darting to the dance floor. “Maybe you’re right.”

He refused to meet her eyes, and it sparked something inside her. It was some convoluted mixture of rage, pain, desperation, and, most unexpectedly, a tinge of hope. “Dance with me?” She held out her hand to him in challenge. Kai’s gaze flit between her hand, the dancing couples, and the gleam in her eyes. Whatever brought it back, he’d missed it dearly. He took her hand, leading her to join the crowds. 

Rose let out a soft laugh at the song change, wondering if Caroline had something to do with the music. War of Hearts played over the speakers as Kai’s hand came to rest on her waist. Their fingers linked together, and this time, everything else fell away. 

Come to me in the night hours. I will wait for you.

Both recalled the same memories as they stepped in unison. Their awkward first interaction in the coffee shop. The first date where Kai was trying to be charming but ended up spilling soda all over his shirt. His tears when the thoughts of his past tormented him. The devastation they both felt when Rosalie found out about Malachai’s betrayal. 

“Have you been stalking me, by the way?” Kai almost smiled, his brow rising. “Would you believe me if I said I had no idea you’d be in the same section?” He twirled her around, pulling her back to him. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m supposed to believe, Malachai.” 

She’d been the only one who could use his full first name without making him flinch. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Kai sighed, resigned with himself. “I don’t know what I can say, Rose. You have every right to not trust me. Let me just ask you one thing, and then I will leave you alone.”

I can’t help but love you, even though I try not to. I can’t help but want you. I know that I’d die without you.

“Do you honestly think I didn’t break my own heart when I broke yours?” His arms wrapped around her as Kai selfishly pulled her close. If this was the last time, he needed to hold her close. The back of his hand brushed her cheek, and he memorized the feel of her soft skin. He was close enough to see the reflection of his dark, satin mask in Rosalie’s eyes. 

Rose didn’t know how to react. Her first instinct was to say no. He had sounded so convincing when he gloated to Ric and Damon about how he used her. How could that be the voice of someone with a broken heart? That same person stood in front of her now, looking at her with deeper affection and sincerity unlike anything she’d known before. 

Rosalie held the hand brushing her cheek, wrapping her own around it before stepping away from Kai. “Malachai, I can’t do this again.” Kai had let her walk away once. He wouldn’t give up without a fight this time. “Please… I promise I won’t ever hurt you. I won’t lie to you. From now on, nothing but the truth.” 

I can’t help but be wrong in the dark, ‘cause I’m overcome in this war of hearts. I can’t help but want oceans to part, ‘cause I’m overcome in this war of hearts.

With those words, Rose threw her arms around Malachai and kissed him. Maybe it was wishful thinking, or maybe it was just plain stupid. It didn’t matter. Not trusting him had been so unendurably painful; even if he played her again, it would be worth it.

Kai froze in surprise for a fraction of a second, not expecting her to give him the one thing he wanted most. He took her face in his hands, suppressing a sob of relief and joy. Malachai brought her closer, hugging her flush against his body. 

People still danced around them, oblivious to the two souls who’d found each other and would never part again.

~

The end of the semester approached, faster than anticipated. Malachai and Rosalie had spent the last months together, and true to his word, he hadn’t lied to her… until tonight.

In his lonesome years in the prison world, Kai had honed his cooking and baking skills. Tonight, after a long week of finals, they were making Kai’s chocolate chip cookies – a recipe he’d refined and mastered over twelve years. Rosalie was whipping together browned butter and sugar, and Kai was chopping chunks of dark chocolate into shards with a knife. The apartment smelled like toasted sugar, and their playful banter brought them much-needed laughter. 

“Where’d you put the vanilla extract I brought over?” Rosalie was looking in Kai’s kitchen drawers, and just as she reached one near the edge of the counter, he stepped in front of her. “Not in that one! There’s nothing in that one. Let’s move on.” Why was he in such a rush to get her away from that drawer? 

“Malachai… what are you hiding from me?” He sighed and stepped aside, remembering his promise to her. Rose didn’t take her eyes off him as she opened the drawer. Looking down, she halted in shock at the only object inside: a small black jewelry box.

Kai grabbed it before she could, putting it behind her back. She gave him a look, raising her eyebrows in question. “What are you hiding from me?” She repeated her question, her voice even more pointed, now with curiosity rather than suspicion. Adorably anxious, Kai nipped at his lower lip and tugged at his hair momentarily. 

Setting the box on the kitchen counter, Kai flipped its lid. Within it, tucked into cushioned velvet, lay matching silver rings. They were similar in style to the ones Malachai often wore, the metal bands thick and fairly plain. He removed them both, showing her the inscription inside the bands: nothing but the truth.

“This isn’t a proposal. Not yet, at least.” Kai’s nervousness didn’t help him get these words out, but when he looked up, looking into her eyes, suddenly it was much easier. “I wanted us to have something that reminds us of our journey and how far we’ve come. I want us to have these.” Before he said anything more, Kai slipped his ring onto his middle finger. Rosalie accepted his gift and put on her ring. She took his hand and laced their fingers together.  “Thank you, Kai,” Rose spoke with tenderness, holding Kai’s face. “I’ll never take it off.” Their lips met in a sweet kiss, and the smooth metal of their rings clinked together quietly. They squeezed each other’s hands lovingly, now certain neither would let go.

~~~

That's all for this piece! Thank you to the anon who requested I give them a happy ending; this story would not exist without you :)

Please feel free to send any thoughts/comments/constructive criticisms my way. I always welcome them.

If you’d like to be tagged in future Kai Parker works, feel free to message me/leave a comment here. If you liked this story, feel free to check out my other stories from my Malachai Parker Masterlist (pinned to the top of my profile).

Until next time, JustAThoughtfulAngel

Master Taglist: @socio-kai-path1972, @bluelicious, @genevivetaylor, @kolsangel, @callsign-luckyshot

[gaintsnowflake]

Hey, would you do Anthony Lockwood x reader,in which the reader (is in Rotwell) is George's twin sister and from the beginning of the first meeting with Lockwood hates him for the fact that he uses her brother for dirty work and one day got into such an argument,that George and Lucy had to leave the house (threw a vase at Lockwood and it crashed next to his head), and when they return, they find them kissing on the couch. Thanks

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐓

PAIRING : Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader ( George Karim x sibling!reader )

ONESHOT : in which you do not like lockwood, at all.

TRIGGERS : fighting, throwing objects

A/N : I hope you enjoy this, if this isn't what you were hoping for, please dm me and I will do write it again or if you want an extention. I couldn't figure out how to write this well without turning it into a miniseries (which crossed my mind more than once), but it was still fun to write all the same, thank you so much for this request! Please ignore any spelling and grammar errors, I am my own editor, so I will not be able to catch everything!

WORD COUNT : 1.2k

masterlist

IT WASN'T common for you to get a letter from George. Although your twin status, your relationship sometime faltered. There would be months where you wouldn't here a word from the boy, but it didn't mean you didn't love him. You loved George more than most can imagine. 

You constantly looked after the boy when you were younger, making sure your parents were never to harsh on the little researcher. Although you were technically twins, you took on your role as an older sister, even though you were older by one minute and fifty seven seconds.

Because of your bond, it was quite heartbreaking to hear that he quit working at Fittes but you supported his decision. Until you heard he was working for a small agency, run by a teen boy. This news, was quiet aggravating, especially the more you found out about this agency. It was unsafe and George did most of the work. This caused a hatred for the owner.

George knows of this dislike, which is probably why he has yet to invite you to meet the company, his friends. Until yesterday, that was the letter you had received. A invite to dinner with him and his team. 

Although you don't know this, it wasn't George's idea to invite you, rather his coworker Lucy, who found out that you were also an agent who lived so close. Lucy wanted to meet you, saying something about how the two of you should be close. Much to George's dislike, he sent the letter inviting you. He thought you would decline, but, to his surprise, you had arrived at the door of 35 Portland Row.

You knocked three time, before you were greeted by your lovely brother. His eyes widened when he opened the door to see you. It had been only a couple of months, but so much has changed. You were dressed nicer, but still sporting a rapier and a Rotwell jacket. 

"Hi," his words were quiet, as if he was going to scare you away being any louder, but that was probably just the shock. "Here, come in."

He moved out of your way, letting you step into the homey environment. You were careful to take in every detail, of the home. You were quick to give George's shoulder a slight squeeze, knowing he wouldn't appreciate a hug. 

"George who is it?" You heard a voice call out, you assumed it was the infamous Anthony Lockwood. 

Before George could respond, a tall boy came into view, his ebony hair slightly out of place. He had on a blue tie over a white button up. You took in his appearance as he stood in front of you. You hated to say that he was relatively attractive, but if you didn't it would be a lie. Especially with the way his lips pulled into a smile as he seen you.

He reached his hand out, you just looked at him, giving him a dead stare. You took a step forward before taking his hand. You shook it with an aggressive nature, making sure to let him know with you looks that you did not like him. When you let go, you were quick to step back and turn to give George your full attention, ignoring the smell of what you could recognize as your favorite meal, most likely George's cooking. 

"How have you been, Georgie?" You asked him, ignoring Lockwood who was looking between the two of you.

You and George made small talk, catching up and what not, until Lucy came out to get the three of you, saying something about the food burning. George was quick to rush into the kitchen, attempting to save dinner.  You walked past Lockwood, shoving him a bit with your shoulder before introducing yourself to Lucy.

The dinner went well, you and Lucy bonding almost immediately.  George also enjoyed your company. Although you did ignore Lockwood, most of dinner, which is something he later questioned George about. 

This few hour interaction was soon to be turned into a tradition, where every Tuesday, you would show for dinner or breakfast. 

It had been weeks of you coming, often times you would get into fights with Lockwood, telling him all the things he does wrong. It was more or less you scolding him for putting your brother in danger. These fights never really escalated too far, George or Lucy would normally step in, or you would leave. It also didn't help that you were using this anger to completely suppress your growing liking for the boy. 

You could already tell today was going to be different. It was about eleven in the morning. You had woken up after a long shift last night, to get donuts from Arif's and head over to the now familiar house. Even though you wouldn't admit it, you got everyone's favorite donuts, even Lockwood's. 

You knocked on the door, only to be greeted by Lockwood, which was the first noticeable difference in the morning. Normally you were greeted by Lucy, as George was most likely asleep when you came in the mornings. 

The next noticeable difference, was how Lockwood rolled his eyes before letting you in. Which instantly got your blood boiling. 

For the next hour you were there, everything Lockwood did seemed to piss you off in some way. Almost as if he was trying to get under your skin. And if that was his plan, it worked. Because here you are, standing in the Library screaming at Lockwood, George and Lucy looking on with horror.

"Should we go?" Lucy whispered to George watching the other two fight.

"Wait, a few more minutes... I wanna see how bad this is."

George knew you better than anyone, he also knew that fights like this were quick and done with as long as you didn't get physically aggressive. Although you would never hurt anyone, it would never stop you from throwing and kicking objects near a target. But the second he seen you reach for the closest thing next to you, he knew he was better off leaving with Lucy, giving the two of you space, as they would not want to be next on the list. 

Your movement's were quick when you reached for the closest thing. A vase. The vase that was then sent flying across the room, shattering behind Lockwood, right next to his head as you screamed out a string of curses.

That is when George ushered Lucy out of the room, knowing that there was no stopping the fighting now. He left the two of you to fight, as they went out, of the house. A short shopping trip to go get some tea's was good.

But when they returned nearly an hour later, they were not expecting what they seen. They walked into a quiet house, which was already a red flag. But for all they know, you stormed out. But that was quickly proven not true as they seen your jacket on the kitchen chair, where you left it when you dropped off the donuts.

Quickly they searched the house, only to find the two of you kissing on Lockwood's chair in the library. You straddling his lap as he held onto your waist, leaning back in the chair slightly. The two of you continued to kiss passionately and aggressively, as the two stopped and stared with utter shock. 

The next few moments were defiantly going to be a long lived inside joke between the four. No one would have thought that leaving the two of you in a house for such a long time alone would lead you to stop fighting, making you 'KISS IT OUT'.

[winniethewife]

It's you and me, that's my whole world (Shiv x Reader)

Warning: Violence!

Words: 878

Shiv had spent a lot of time perusing her. The American Hottie that moved to Russia as a reporter for a major newspaper back in the states. She has a sweet look, but as he got to know her she had come out of her shell to reveal a badass woman with a great sense of humor. Making each other laugh late into the night when he wasn’t busy with “Business” it didn’t take much to convince her to be his girlfriend, and she was the one that offered for him and Andrei to come stay with her, she had a spare bedroom, what was the harm? As it turns out, there would be a lot of trouble.

They had been dating about a year, Shiv had left early to go to the corner shop to get her flowers. He was walking back with some nice roses for her when He got a call. He gabbed his mobile and flipped it open

“Hello?”

“It’s been a long time coming” a voice said before the line went dead.  He scoffs and closed up the phone before walking up the steps to the apartment. When he comes in he puts the roses on the table and goes looking for his girl.

“Hey, Baby?” he peaks in the bedroom to find her still asleep in the bed. He smiles and walks over to her touching her shoulder, she opens her eyes and smiles.

“Shiv…what time is it?” She asks sleepily.

“Just past 8. We’ve got an hour before we gotta go.” He kisses her forehead. It was their usual rutione. He’d wake up early to get some stuff done then He would drive her to work before hitting up the market

“I don’t go in today. They’re fumigating the building.” She smiles and touches his face gently. “How about I come with you today? Hmm? Watch you do Business” She chuckles, she knows full well what he actually does but enjoys his delusions. Shiv hesitates.

“I don't want you to go, it can get dangerous.” He looks at her with his brow furrowed. She laughs slightly.

“Shiv…My love, I’m a Jornalist, its nothing I haven’t seen before.” She sits up and starts to get ready for the day.

“Right, I nearly forgot, Big time reporter here coving all the gangs of America.” He teased. He wasn’t wrong she had done some major reporting on some big player gangs back home, she could hold her own in the face of danger.

A while later they were walking down the street the market was set up on. As he came by the stands collecting the protection money for Tusk. She stands at his side as he does this, watching him joke around with the people running their stalls, she loved how he was with people, if he had been in a better position in life…she shakes her head, thinking like that doesn’t do any good for any one. When he was done he takes her hand and walks with her down an alley to the next location, and that’s when the trouble starts. He feels her hand pulled from his and he turns quickly to see Her being held with a knife to her neck by two punks from the other gang that operates around here. Shiv pulls out his own knife

“Hey! I don't really wanna fight But I will if I have to” Shiv growls at them.

“Darling, I'm scared…” She says softly. Shiv feels tense, the look of fear in his lover’s eyes was enough to actually piss him off.

“You can try to fight us tough boy but you know you should consider not doing so, 'Cause nobody's gonna win,” One of the guys threatened

“What do you want? What does this have to do with her? She doesn’t work for Tusk I do!” Shiv starts to yell

“Our boss tells us that your girl has wronged his girl, something about her little boy calling her Mama.” The man holding the knife to her throat says.  Shiv felt his blood go cold, of course Oxsana would do something like this.

“What do they want then Huh?” Shiv glares at them but before anyone can respond the unexpected happens. The guy holding the knife lets go of it and screams out in pain as she smashed her heel into his foot and ducks and turns grabbing the knife from the ground and holding it to the man’s throat.

“You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes” She hissed as he put his hands up.

“Alright, alright…we’re leaving…” the other guy said. She backed off and the two ran off. Shiv put his knife away and rushed to hold her.

“Fuck. You okay baby?” he was petting her hair as he looked concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine Shiv.” She placed her hands on his chest as they both took a second to calm down

“I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to you.” Shiv manages to say pressing his forehead to hers.

“Hey, its okay…It's you and me. We’ve got this.” She responds softly

“Yeah…My Miss Americana.” He chuckles taking her chin in his hand looking down at her.

“My Heartbreak Prince...” She smiles, leans in, kissing him.

[islenthatur]

Red Sun Rising

Cross posted on AO3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/51078088

One word – one moment – could change the course of everything, could change fates original design into something better but also more heartbreak. Because you cannot have good without the bad, that was Life's choice and Fate was not one to go against the weaver of threads to her tapestries.

"DAD!" Luffy's scream echoed across the conquer touched blue, his eyes wide and pleading as he struggled to free himself from the bandit that took him and towards Shanks. "Dad, please! HELP!"

In between one blink and the next, Luffy felt a rippling tidal wave of power before he was thrown into the ocean. Voices screamed at him, loud and all-consuming like a storm but there was one voice that reached him above all the others.

"I'm coming son."

It was Shanks, his voice loud and clear.

The sea swirled around him, dragging him down but up, closer but further. It was as if he was being pulled in two directions. His lungs burned as he fought to hold his breath, arms aching with the struggles of trying to break the surface.

Hungryhungrybloodbloodblood…

A gasp echoed as his head broke the surface, arms pulling him close before an angry roar, a splash of warmth and then quiet. Luffy sobbed loudly as the world righted itself, eyes taking in Shanks with guilt and terror.

"It's all my fault!" He screamed as he clutched at Shanks. "You're arm! It's all my fault!"

Shanks' heart broke as Luffy sobbed in his arm, tremors of Haki trembled off them both, causing the surface of the blood-tinged ocean to ripple. "Luffy no, it's just an arm… it's not your fault Anchor, I'm just so glad you're okay."

"Dad, dad… I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Luffy cried harder, the weight of his heart heavy in his chest.

Shanks inhaled sharply, eyes snapping down to the boy in wonder. Luffy, his little Anchor kept surprising him, even now. His heart rabbited in his chest as he clutched Luffy tighter to him, eyes flickering around as the ocean began to tremble. "It's okay Son, shh, it's okay. All that matters is that you're okay."

A burst of power wrapped around them, over them, twisted and twinned like ivy and Shanks felt his breath get knocked from him as he watched Luffy's hair turn from black to a deep red, so deep that if he wasn't in the sun or someone wasn't looking it would still look the same. The power waned and with it, Shanks suddenly knew.

The Ocean had blessed him, had tied his little Anchor to him forever. Luffy was now his son, born of another but more Shanks than his original biological father. Their DNA was rewritten.

Shanks held his son tighter against him, soft words escaping his lips as he ignored the pain, ignored everything else but this moment. Everything had changed, all his plans had now changed. Shanks was a selfish man, greedy like a pirate and Anchor was his, his treasure. His son. And Shanks knew from the start he would bathe the world in blood if this kid was harmed but now? Now, Shanks would watch the world burn.

X

Garp stared blankly at the destruction of his home island. Dawn Island was gone, nothing was left but scorched earth and death. All those he knew were gone, dead and scattered across the now barren earth. He stood in the middle of what once was Foosha Village hand clenched tight around the last thing he had of his grandson, the blasted straw hat that he always wore.

Garp had found it near the ocean, on the once was cliff edge that held Sabo's grave. It was singed, coated in blood, and pinned under a boulder. His youngest brat was nowhere to be seen, no body to be found only blood and the hat he so prized.

The entirety of his self ached that he wasn't in time, that he couldn't save those he considered friends… couldn't save his family. How was he going to tell Dragon?

How was he going to tell that Red-Haired Brat?

"I am sorry Garp." Sengoku's voice was heavy with remorse but all it did was incite rage.

He tore his eyes away from the death around him to face his oldest friend, his friend who didn't deign to tell him until it was too late.

"Your sorrys mean nothing to me Senny." Garp snapped back as he turned away and made his way back towards the ship that brought him here. It wasn't his beloved Dog House, that was under repair after a battle against a crew of low-level Pirates with an annoying Devil Fruit. "Do you have any idea what has been done?"

"This was out of my control Garp, the Five Elders commanded it personally," Sengoku stated tiredly, regret heavy in his tone.

A bark of laughter escaped Garp as he turned to face his friend once more, tears pooling down his face. He laughed because it was better than screaming, he laughed because if he didn't then he would break and that was something that he couldn't do, not here and not yet. He had to deliver something and until that was done then he would hold himself together.

"I'll take that as a no." Garp barked out with a bitter laugh. "The Five think that sending a Buster Call to Dawn and ridding the world of Dargon's son and the bearer of Hito Hito no Mi would stop Nika from returning and causing chaos they're mistaken. They've just hurtled themselves further into danger."

Sengoku watched as Garp laughed harder, bending at the waist for a moment before wiping away his tears. There was something that niggled at the back of his mind, a sensation that he should listen carefully to what was being said. He waited patiently for Garp to continue, there was no need to prompt the man to continue, years at the man's side had Sengoku knowing exactly how to read the elder D.

"They just started a war that will not end, the ocean will run red with the blood of all that aided in their quest and I for one will not stand in its way," Garp replied grimly, all sense of humour gone, eyes gazing distantly out into the open. "Luffy was Ocean Blessed."

Sengoku inhaled sharply, eyes snapping to Garp instantly. An Ocean Blessed child was rare, it wasn't often that the soul of this very world even granted favours but when it did, it was to a being that would change history.

"They just killed the Ocean Blessed son of Red-Hair Shanks," Garp continued, watching as Sengoku's face paled.

Shanks was a pirate yes, but also an emperor of the seas. He was the youngest one ever to earn that title and though the man was easy to deal with, only caring about the next party he wasn't a nuisance like the rest. But he wasn't to be underestimated, the man was powerful in his own right, a Sea Blessed Child to boot and was raised on the Oro Jackson and trained by both Silvers Rayleigh and Gol D. Rogers.

Sengoku has personally seen Shanks rip apart whole islands with his Haki alone.

"Not only that he is the sworn brother of Fire Fist Ace, the second division commander of the White Beard Pirates," Garp explained further, a sick sense of satisfaction pulling a wide D smile on his face. "Both of them will stop at nothing to avenge Luffy."

With that he began his trek back to the ship once again, leaving a horrified and pale Sengoku in his wake.

I am sorry Luffy…

X

Shanks stepped onto the deck of the Red Force with a heavy feeling as his eyes took in the blood-red sky. He could hear his Captain's – his father's – voice echoing in the back of his mind from a time long ago. Red sky at night, sailors' delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. Usually, a red morning sky meant poor weather but today felt different.

There was a bad omen lingering in the air, it felt suffocating, and Shanks knew that today brought nothing but sorrows.

"Something wrong Captain?" Benn's voice asked from his left, drawing Shank's attention away from the dooming sky.

"Something feels wrong, can't pinpoint it but…" He trailed off with a frown.

Benn chuckled softly; fingers deft as he cleaned his guns. "Perhaps it's because our Anchor was supposed to call us two days ago and hasn't?"

A smile pulled at Shank's lips at the mention of his son. His life had been richer because of it, their promise kept them apart, but Shanks made sure to leave a Den Den with him and swore his son into keeping in contact with his old man.

He had never been gladder for doing so when he got to hear Luffy grow, and got to know that his Captain's son survived. Ace was an amazing child, of course, he was a feral little gremlin who hated everything Gol D. Rogers stood for but over the years he mellowed, had began to believe that he wasn't the monster everyone said he was.

Shanks had been there for every milestone with them both. Had suffered heart attacks over their accounts of their hunting trips with Sabo, Garp's visits, the Grey Terminal… every win and every loss.

"Anchor must be hunting; I'll give him another day and then I'll ring Makino to go find him." Shanks chuckled but the dread only grew. "Alright let's go see if the men are awake yet, get them to finish loading the supplies before they drink themselves into another stupor."

"More like before you drink yourself into another stupor," Benn replied with a chuckle, packing away his guns before following his captain down the plank and onto the shore of the current Spring Island.

As the day grew longer everyone noticed that their captain's eyes drew to the ocean more and more, a sense of unease flowing from him as he fiddled with the small charm that their little Anchor had sent years ago as a present when he acquired enough Berri to send something.

"MARINES!" a voice called panicked from the crow's nest, drawing everyone's attention.

Shanks frowned as he took in the vessel, eyes lingering for any sign of which Marine vessel it was. Usually, it was a Vice Admiral that sailed as a lone vessel towards him these days, and he knew their ship by sight.

"Brat." Garp's voice called as he landed on the shore of the island where they were all occupying, not even flinching as every pirate around him drew their weapon.

Shanks took him in, the Vice Admiral looked worn, and unkept, even more so than he usually was. His eyes which usually had the same glimmer as his Anchor were flat, red rimmed and hollow. The dread that he had been keeping at bay all day tripled, lodging his heart in his chest as he watched Garp swallow.

"Garp, what a pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting…" Shanks started but trailed off when the Marine held his hand up for silence. Now, Shanks wasn't one to follow orders, especially from a marine but something told him to wait and listen.

"I know it's rare that you'll get the news coo for the other papers this far deep into the Grand Line but I needed to get here before it was announced." Taking a deep breath Garp looked up into the red-haired brats' eyes. "The Five learnt that Dragon had a son, and that son was the bearer of the Hito Hito no mi: Model Nika. A Buster Call was made."

Ice slithered into Shank's veins as the words sunk in, he could feel Benn's hands on him, grounding him. "Garp, what are you saying?"

The world slowed as Shank's eyes followed Garp's hand, watched with a choked breath as he pulled free a bloody and singed straw hat, one that was oh so familiar, one that when he last saw it adorned the head of his son. A loud ringing could be heard in his ears, clashing with the thump of his heart.

A blink later he was in front of Garp, hand shakily holding the hat in his hands, confused slightly by the inability to remember when exactly he moved.

"Dawn Island is gone. Luffy is dead."

Luffy is dead. Luffy is dead. Luffy is dead.

The words repeated in his head, over and over.

Vaguely he could hear Benn order his men to move, to flee as fast as they could. He could feel hands on his person, screaming… he could hear screaming. It was loud and heartbreaking, the vibrations tremendous and it took him a long, long time to realise that it was him. That he was the one screaming with enough force that the ground cracked around him with the force. The world around him was bent out with the force of his Haki as it tore through everything in his grief.

He clutched the hat tight to his chest.

His son was gone.

Taken from him.

Rage unlike anything began to settle deep within, overshadowing the grief.

"Benn." His voice was raspy, blood coated.

"Captain."

"We set out for the New World. Set course for the Moby Dick." Shanks ordered as he struggled to his feet, shaking off the hands that went to aid him.

He cast a look around blankly, noting that only those who knew Luffy were left on the beach, fury and grief in their eyes. Everything was destroyed, half the island collapsed with the force of his cry. The Red Force was further away in the ocean, he could see the rest of his men staring at him from the deck with wide eyes and when his own finally found Garp's…

Well, it was hard to miss the dark knowing that shone in their depths.

"What do you plan to do on your way to Ace?" Garp asked with a smirk.

The laugh that escaped from Shank's lips was sharp and promised pain. "I'll bathe the ocean red; I'll watch them all burn."

"Good, make them suffer."

Shanks closed his eyes and tilted his head to the sky for a moment, bringing the straw hat to his chest. Flashes of Luffy laughing and smiling back at him flickered across his memory, Dad! DAD LOOK! He will never hear his son again.

Luffy… my little Anchor… I'm sorry that I wasn't there to protect you…

"Move out!"

Goodbye Anchor… my son.

X

Somewhere in the depths of the ocean a teen slumbered, nestled deep and safe in the belly of a Sea King.

[ruvviks]

break, heartbreak and pain for tiberius!!

tiberius asks!

BREAK: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

if someone close to tiberius would get killed, especially in front of his eyes, he would break completely. it's already happened once with his sister stella getting killed while they were in cryo and that already broke him pretty bad; but since there was a LOT to process in that entire situation he came out of it relatively okay if that makes sense?? he never really got enough time to fully process and grieve her death so he ended up picking himself up pretty quickly (though it all does hit him like a freight train later in the story, but again it wouldn't break him as much as it could have basically)

but now with stella already dead, tiberius just can't afford to go through something like that again. he's got many people he cares about now; preston, the railroad gang, my other ocs max, roxy, nikolai, and magnus, and then piper, nick, maccready; if any of them were to be killed, he would just crumble. would pick up a bottle or some chems or both at the same time and try to drown it all out until there's nothing to drown out anymore or he's pushed himself too far :/

if he were to survive the intial heartbreak, he would just go completely insane. isolate himself somewhere and just spend his days pacing around and trying to keep himself busy by obsessively cleaning his weapons, or washing his hands over and over and over until they're bleeding because clearly he's done something wrong, he couldn't save them, he's done something wrong and now they're dead and it's his fault and he has to make it right somehow but he doesn't know HOW because what else is there to do?? there is NOTHING anyone would be able to do to help him out of it and if he would ever be able to snap out of it it'd take him months if not years, and he would NEVER be the same guy ever again. maybe if he was a little bit older when someone he cared about would die in such a way, he would be able to handle it better; but especially at the age he's at now it wouldn't go well for him at all

HEARTBREAK: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?

tiberius had a girlfriend pre-war and they were together for about three years, but she cheated on him for most of the time they were together and he finds that out about a week before the bombs fall :( she holds up a mirror to him, judging him for things she never bothered to bring up before, and while he Should have done all of it better she shouldn't've reacted the way she did and betrayed him like that; but the narrative around the situation is twisted in such a way that their entire friend group ends up torn apart, and tiberius ends up being turned into the bad guy in it all

the situation is why he's staying at stella's place for fall break and why he's even able to get into vault 111 in the first place (her husband clark is out of town and tiberius manages to take his place). he was not on speaking terms with any of his friends at the time and was leaving them all on read, which means he never really got the chance to properly say goodbye before the world ended :( it's something that still bothers him a LOT nowadays and he feels awful about it

PAIN: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

tiberius has experienced a lot of really bad pain now that he's the commonwealth's favorite squeaky toy so this answer is bound to change, but for now what i can think of it would probably be getting his leg clawed open by a deathclaw on the beach :] specific location but imagine the sand and salt water of the ocean and the open wounds. his screams were heard all the way over in the castle

i will say that did happen before the children of atom gave him their special boy radiation cocktail (i really need a better name for it but also this sounds funny so i'm keeping it) because after he got that shit his pain tolerance went up Significantly. he's definitely experienced pain of similar intensity after that moment, but wouldn't say it was worse himself because he just doesn't feel it all as much as he used to anymore

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

Things I Noticed While Writing Light The Fuse: Part 4, Episode 2

Time for episode 2!

Two weeks ago according to Ethan later on, since he probably didn't waste too much time in Detroit, he's wearing the same outfit after all so he more than likely bailed that night

Ethan really is a sweet pea and I love him but god do I love writing that temper of his, I don't do it often enough yet between all the fun and smut and heartbreak and angst

I went to rewatch this bit for any details he might've filled in but nope, whole page is empty ;w; thanks Reprisal. Also laughing at Ethan literally leaving everything behind apart from this outfit and a single bar of chocolate. I love the detail that Horn makes its way into pretty much every title, it's a reoccurring bit

Again I was so not paying attention to anything when Johnson wasn't on screen that first watch that I completely missed that she gave him this front and center 🙃 what a jackass I am

I need to know what this means. It was never brought up again, not even when they met up. My guess is that it's supposed to be like 'look at this and feel reassured that I'll get you out' but the take that it could also mean 'show this to someone and they'll help you' is also interesting, but it's probably the former since everyone thinks she's dead and I doubt she has any friends left considering they think she started a war oop

He will be getting rid of this eventually and that's a promise

This is unforgiveable. It's also funny to me that both Ethan and Matty cry but Johnson, the man played by David 'He's Workin' Those Eyes' Dastmalchian, doesn't. Do you know how hard it is to write scenes where he's sad but doesn't cry cause he's Johnson? Extremely.

It's been pointed out before but Johnson is just straight up gone and Ethan is in his place lol like at least get him a stand-in if David had to be gone for the far shots

I still cannot believe that Bash made me imagine this. This line is so fuckin wild

Even Matty got worried when Bash started doing his thing he was not ready for a fight here

lmao Gary in his sunglasses trying to look intimidating, imagine Johnson trying that, it's not working for you bud

This one's a double, cause not only does this say that Doris taught Ethan how to come down from his panic attacks (which makes me cry) but it's also the super rare time that any amount of time is mentioned. It was so incredibly difficult to work out my timeline for this show that I had to grab the one single date shown (ep4) and move entirely around that based on what everyone says, when the boys go on a run since it takes 11 days (ep5), and when their outfits change

This isn't a detail or anything I just wanna say I love writing their scenes since it lets me really get into Ethan's head while he's hearing her actively push away everything he's saying. I kinda made him way more self-aware in my fic because of that, but having him be aware but still trusting her enough to rationalize her actions in real-time is a lot more fun to me than blind trust

I love this line so much lmao there's so many lines I passed over because I watched without the subs, like I just thought Bru was eating the ham pie like that because he liked it but nope he gets them 'runny' so he can 😂 I also like the detail how they had Ethan order four, so either one is for Johnson or Matty's having two lol

That's the one thing that lets me down in this show, Johnson keeps disappearing for no reason ;w; he should always be by Matty's side even without me knowing they're dating so let's just imagine he ducked inside to grab more drinks or he's using the bathroom and he'll just be right back, hence the fourth pie 👍

Can everyone please stop hitting Matty 😭

Matty just going 'mm' and then getting back to eating lmao he's so fuckin cute he doesn't even care, there's also no reason for him to be sitting on the table and hunched over his food like a gremlin he's gunna make me kiss him what who said that

Well I reached my limit trying to talk about their last scene so I guess I'll see you tomorrow to wrap up ep2, who would've thought such a short amount of scenes would need two posts? 💛💙

[bukaters]

Today I finally had the time to go sit on a bench and take some sun in while listening to TTPD. Overall, I'm not very impressed, but I think Folklore kind of ruined things for me because I'm always expecting Taylor's albums to be as good as that one and they always fall short. Still, there are some beautiful lyrics in this one. I'll just leave here some random thoughts and some of my favorite lines:

"So Long, London" truly is "London Boy" 's depressed sister. I think what makes it so sad is how well the lyrics convey the exhaustion that comes when all hope is dead and you know something is over for good no matter what you do

"My boy only breaks his favorite toys" should be an anthem to those who've been discarded after being used by someone (also love the Barbie reference)

"So High School" has got to be the most annoying song that's ever been written

"I can do it with a broken heart" is heartbreaking. Fame and stardom must be such sad and lonely places to be in - which brings me to:

"The Prophecy" = you can't have it all. I don't like this way of thinking (love the song) because it kind of looks at life as an either or thing. Taylor, girl, maybe you can have it all so stop howling at the moon (jk, pls never stop)

"But daddy, I love him" = massive eye roll. Hate it.

"Robin" is BEAUTIFUL and about protecting one's innocence from the pain of growing up.

My favorite bits under the cut

Say it once again with feeling How the death rattle breathing Silenced as the soul was leaving The deflation of our dreaming Leaving me bereft and reeling My beloved ghost and me Sitting in a tree D-Y-I-N-G (How did it end?)

If the glint in my eye traced the depths of your sigh Down that passage in time Back to the moment I crashed into you Like so many wrecks do Too impaired by my youth To know what to do (Chloe or Sam or sophia or Marcus)

I wrote a thousand songs that you find uncool I built a legacy that you can't undo But when I count the scars, there's a moment of truth That there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you (thanK you aIMee)

The coward claimed he was a lion I'm combing through the braids of lies (loml)

A greater woman stays cool But I howl like a wolf at the moon And I look unstable Gathered with a coven 'round a sorceress' table A greater woman has faith But even statues crumble if they're made to wait (the prophecy)

I stopped CPR, after all it's no use The spirit was gone, we would never come to And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free

For so long, London Stitches undone Two graves, one gun I'll find someone … And you say I abandoned the ship But I was going down with it My white knuckle dying grip Holding tight to your quiet resentment and My friends said it isn't right to be scared Every day of a love affair Every breath feels like rarest air When you're not sure if he wants to be there (So Long, London)

Put me back on my shelf But first - Pull the string And I'll tell you that he runs Because he loves me. Cause you should've seen him When he first saw me.

My boy only breaks his favorite toys I'm queen of sand castles he destroys (My boy only breaks his favorite toys)

You got the dragonflies above your bed You have a favorite spot on the swing set You have no room in your dreams for regrets You have no idea The time will arrive for the cruel and the mean You'll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline But now we'll curtail your curiosity In sweetness (Robin)