#literally from belgium we never got another wink

[blueskingdom]

charles ft. his never ending saga of winking at max

[fangirlshrewt97]

Epiphanies and a Roof Over Their Heads

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Pairing: Nile Freeman & Nicolo di Genova

Read on AO3

                                                           ///

Nicky hummed as he sipped his hot chocolate, the warmth seeping into his bones, making him melt further into the armchair. A crash of thunder startled him upright, eyes blinking at the subsequent flash of lightning. Sighing, Nicky shifted until he was once again comfortably reclining in the arm chair, one foot on the broad window sill. Closing his eyes again, Nicky allowed his other senses to take over. The taste of warm chocolate still stinging his tongue, the faint strums of music from the spare bedroom Nile had converted into a temporary studio, the plushness of the armchair molding to his body. The nearly overwhelming scent of petrichor and wet trees wafting in from the open window.

They had arrived at the safehouse in Indonesia a few days before, and were waiting for the rest of the team to join them. Andy and Quynh had said they would stop by Vietnam, so it would likely be a week before they showed up. Joe and Booker had said they were en route and would try to be there in a couple days. Given that it was monsoon season, and a cyclone had been spotted, Nicky thought they would probably arrive with Andy and Quynh.

Lifting his other leg to cross his ankles on the window sill, Nicky sipped away at the drink in his hand, just enjoying the rain pouring outside their house, enveloping them in this phantom bubble of isolation from the rest of the world. He had always found peace in the rain, felt like the water washed away all the troubles of the world, at least temporarily. If, of course, they were not forced to trek through treacherous jungles or muddy hills during the downpour.

After some time he heard the faint music cut off, a door opening softly. He took another sip of drink. He tilted his head in Nile’s direction when she finally peaked over the head of the large chair, smiling softly at her sheepish expression.

“Sorry,” she said, “I wasn’t sure if you had fallen asleep.”

“It’s ok sorellina. I was not sleeping.”

Nile came around the armchair, an eyebrow raised as she saw him sprawled comfortably in his perch. “So, what are you doing?”

“Watching the rain.” Nicky replied, one corner of his lips raising in a faint smirk, as Nile let out annoyed groan.

“I thought we said no more dad jokes Nicky!” Nile said petulantly.

Nicky chuckled. “Si, Si, sorry. Would you like some hot chocolate?”

At that Nile brightened. “Yes!”

“There is some in the kitchen, pour yourself some and come join me.” Nicky said, gesturing in the direction of the other armchair.

Nile nodded before disappearing from sight.

Nicky took another sip of the hot chocolate, letting it rest on his tongue for a moment, until the sweetness became too much, and swallowed. Nile was humming happily as she made her way over to him, one hand clutching a mug, the other maneuvering the armchair beside Nicky’s. Nicky placed his mug on the windowsill before helping Nile with the chair. Once she was comfortably settled, he retook his position. Nile opted to curl up in her chair, letting out a small groan of satisfaction as she first tasted the chocolate.

“Swear to god Nicky, I have no idea how you do it, but you make the best stuff.” Nile said, voice slightly fair away.

Nicky beamed at her, a different warmth blossoming in his chest as his dear friend enjoyed one of his creations. “Grazie Nile, we got lucky I still had some of the chocolate I had bought in Belgium. I was planning on making hot chocolate for all of us, but then the call came in.”

“And it’s difficult to make hot chocolate when you are sneaking around the warehouse district of Nice?” Nile asked wryly.

Nicky winked at her, making her snort. Nile leaned her head against the side of the armchair. “You know, I think out of all the different weathers, rain is the strangest to me?”

Nicky tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“We have all kinds of weather in Chicago, but we don’t get that much rain. And then Afghanistan, I mean. It’s Afghanistan, I got used to the heat. But rain like this?” Nile gestured at the window, where the rain was still falling in such strength they could barely see their compound’s wall. “I’ve never really seen it before.”

Nicky made a noise of agreement. “Genoa got a lot of rain. I always liked the rainy days best.”

“Yeah?” Nile asked, that curious wonder still in her voice. She still relished any opportunity to hear about their early years. None of the team had a problem indulging her.

“Si. I always found it very peaceful.”

As if to contradict him, a flash of lightning whited out the world before a rumble of thunder roared overhead.

“Yes, very peaceful.” Nile mumbled into her cup.

“Of course that rain was not quite like this. We had our bad storms, I remember the fishermen were always tense when they expected bad weather.  But for me rain offered me a kind of escape.”

“Escape how?”

Nicky shrugged, taking another sip as he sorted out the words in his head. “Escape like freedom. Like there was no one else except me when it was raining. Rain meant mud and extra chores, laundry that took twice as long to dry. But it also left the earth smelling of life, the flowers seemed to blossom brighter in the aftermath.”

“I can see that.” Nile said after a minute. “So. Did you ever have a epic romantic kiss in the rain?”

Nicky choked slightly on his drink as Nile giggled next to him. “Epic kiss?”

“Yeah, you know how in the movies, one of the romantic scenes is if the two people find each other after having had a fight or something, and then share this huge  kiss while like the music swells around them?”

Nicky chuckled as he shook his head. “I can’t recall anything quite like that.”

Nile pouted at him, making him snort.

“There was one instance though…” he trailed, enjoying how Nile scooted forward in her chair. Nicky closed his eyes, trying to bring the memory to the forefront.

“I must have been around 100, 110? Joe and I had only recently met up with Andy and Quynh, and had been travelling through Europe when Quynh said she wanted to introduce us to her homeland. So, we headed towards Vietnam. It was my first time so far East, and the sights felt like a different world. I had read and heard the stories from the three of them, but nothing quite compares to seeing the lands in person. We got stuck near Bangladesh? Or maybe Assam?

Anyways, we had to stop because the monsoon season hit, and both Andy and Quynh insisted the trip would be more enjoyable when we weren’t soaked to the bone. We found an abandoned house to camp out in for the season, and went about getting it ready. But still, nothing could have prepared me for the ways the skies opened, the way all the water in heaven seemed to fall out at once.”

“Must have been quite the sight.” Nile said softly.

Nicky nodded. “I don’t have the words to describe it. I used to stand by the door for a long time, just watching how the rain seemed to literally fall to the earth, crashing against the soft ground. Finally, maybe three or four days later? I decided I wanted to feel the rain.”

“Feel? Like walk in the rain?”

Nicky nodded once. “I had done it sometimes in Genoa, when I was a little boy. Stood alone in the rain, felt the water wash over me. It left me clean, like it didn’t just wash over my body, but my soul itself. I hadn’t done it in years, but the urge was so strong. When I saw the clouds darken, I stepped out of the house, walking just a few feet away.”

Nicky opened his eyes, training them on Nile, who was staring at him with an intense focus. She made a noise, encouraging him to continue.

“Standing under that monsoon rain. If the Genoan rain seemed to wash my soul, this one seemed to remake me. Each drop hurt as it fell on me, but it felt…like a benediction. I had caused so much death I could still see the blood on my hands. I had finally accepted I loved Joe, and was beginning to accept he mattered more to me than my faith’s claim that loving him was signing my soul for an eternity of damnation. But standing in that rain. None of that mattered. The world didn’t matter. I didn’t matter. And it was ok.

I’m not sure how long I was there, I had fallen to me knees at some point. I was brought back to myself when Joe touched me though. He was shouting something, I couldn’t hear what, but I remember the look in his eyes. I think he thought I had finally lost my mind. I just started laughing, harder than I ever had. It didn’t help ease his concern, but the rain, it had washed me of all the guilt I had been carrying. I pulled him down with me and kissed him. It felt like I was doing it in front of God. It felt like He was telling me it was ok. That I was allowed to live, allowed to love this perfect man I did not feel I deserved but would fight the world to keep by my side.”

The only noise in the room for some minutes after Nicky finished his story was the drumming of the rain.

“Wow.” Nile said finally.

Nicky huffed. “Does that qualify?”

Nile nodded, laughing brightly. “Definitely. Although, for most of the characters the epiphany comes before or after the kiss, not during.”

Nicky shrugged. “Maybe that’s because you can’t see the character’s thoughts as they are kissing.”

Nile nodded her head. “Fair enough.”

Nicky tilted his empty mug towards her. “Care for a refill?”

Nile nodded, getting up and taking his mug. “I’ll fill yours, you look far to cozy to disturb.”

Nicky grinned. “Thank you Nile.”

Nile returned with two full mugs. Nicky grabbed his own, only to pause when Nile held out her own. “To epiphanies in the rain.”

Nicky laughed. “And what epiphany have you had?”

“That I do not want to be a poor sap who has to walk in these conditions. Ever.” Nile said firmly, bobbing her head.

Nicky laughed harder, his mug shaking slightly. “To epiphanies and a roof over our head.”

Nile beamed. “To epiphanies and a roof over our head.”

After they toasted their mugs, they each took a long drink, letting out identical sighs of satisfaction. Giggling, Nile waved her mug. “Thanks for the story Nicky, between that, my art, and this wonderful hot chocolate, I am ready for a nap, and Mother Nature has a great soundtrack on. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Sogno di oro, habibti.” Nicky told her as Nile walked away.

Once she was out of sight, Nicky lifted both his feet onto the windowsill, and leaned back on the armchair. Setting the empty mug on the floor, he carefully spread the blanket he had curled beneath his back over his legs. A nap sounded quite nice indeed. And if he could not fall asleep next to Joe, at least he would fall asleep to the sound of rain.

[liebegott]

Ya know a lil post war Lieb where you’re married but he’s flirting with you would really water my crops... bonus if he says the word titties hehe ~ twin

Bell Peppers & Balconies. | Joseph Liebgott

(click here to read on wattpad)

REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN!

pairing: liebgott x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: none except he mentions titties so idk oops!

a/n: ahh i’m so sorry, for some reason, when i wrote this, my eyes completely focused on the titties line instead of the married line! so i accidentally wrote them not married. i’m so sorry 🥺 huge thanks to @vintagelavenderskies who reminded me that stargazing existed!

this is probably my favourite oneshot i’ve ever written, so i hope you enjoy it! thank you all for reading. 💓

tagging: @floydtab @alienoresimagines @order-of-river-phoenix @julianneday1701 @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @wexhappyxfew @rarmiitage @mavysnavy @punkgeekchic @vintagelavenderskies @georgeluzwarmhugs @ray--person @wecomrades @jussipogideonlaufeyson @happyveday @snafus-peckuh @little-babydolly @kathikon

feel free to message me if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

***

Water splashed against your foot, the contents of your watering can spilling onto the balcony under yours. You quietly cursed, stepping aside and rushing to turn off the faucet. It was like any other day, summer just around the corner, and as usual, you tended to your small garden, a couple of planter boxes fastened to the railing of your balcony. 

It was 1945. The war had just ended, and though everything was normal for a while now, the difference soldiers coming home made was striking. You had moved to San Francisco right after most of the men shipped out, so their return made a difference to everyone but you.

With summer rolling in, you worried about your bell peppers that had started sprouting. It was rarely bright and sunny where you lived, but your small apartment faced south, allowing your tiny, makeshift backyard to receive as much sunlight as possible for your vegetables.

You lived in a corner apartment, and the apartment beside yours was empty, so your floor was quiet, noise coming only from the bustle of the streets below. Today was no different. 

Or so you thought.

“You water them any more and they’ll drown,” a voice said to you, and for a moment, you thought you had hallucinated. On the balcony beside yours stood a skinny man, still in his military uniform, leaning on the railing. “I’m serious, that’s way too much water.”

Tilting your watering can, you placed it on a wooden stool, surveying the damage. It was one of your bad habits- getting so lost in thought, staring off into the distance. It was a surprise any of your vegetables had grown at all. 

“Oops,” you said sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck, “They’ll be fine.. I hope.” The man chuckled, the sound of his laugh so clear despite the honking of the traffic on the streets under you. 

He leaned down on the railing on his elbows, taking out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it in such swift movements. You never liked smoking, hated the smell of cigarettes, but briefly, as you watched him exhale, you loved it. The man saw you eye him from his peripherals and turned to you, throwing you a wink.

“I hope so too,” he mumbled, flicking spent ashes to the ground below, “Can’t have spaghetti without tomatoes can we? Those are tomatoes aren’t they?” 

You shook your head gently. “No, bell peppers. My tomatoes didn’t grow,” a frown appeared on your face and the man clucked his tongue. He moved in his place, resting on his back on the warm metal to face you. “Did you just get back?” You cursed yourself in your head for such a stupid question, as he was in fact, still in his hat.

The man nodded absentmindedly, taking another drag from his cigarette and exhaling before speaking. “Yep, just moved in as well,” he smiled kindly, the smile-lines around his mouth deepening, “Glad my ‘ma chose this apartment.”

Turning back towards the horizon, you sighed happily. “It has the best view,” you replied, “You’re really lucky.”

“I sure am,” the man grinned, but his eyes remained trained on her, “I’ve got a pretty neighbour with bell peppers as well.” You couldn’t fight the blush appearing on your cheeks. 

“Would you like to come over for dinner?” you suddenly blurted out, surprising the both of you, you a little more. He seemed pleased, flicking away his cigarette and watching it drop to the ground. 

Rubbing his hands together, he walked closer to his balcony ledge, a smirk on his face. “That’s a surprise,” he said, your cheeks heating up once more, “I was just about to ask you the same thing. Except, I don’t have any furniture.”

“Ask me then,” you said, unsure where this boldness was coming from. He was a complete stranger, and you had only been speaking for a few minutes. 

The man chuckled again, and you wish he wouldn’t stop this time, the sound sweet in your ears. “What’s your name?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

“Y/N.”

He smiled, and you curled a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, Y/N,” he began, leaning in as close as the gap between your balconies would allow, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

———

Fidgeting, you gently brought your knuckles to the door and knocked. You heard shuffling inside before he swung the door wide open, a large grin on his face. “You really came,” Joe breathed a sigh of relief, puzzling you.

“Of course I did,” you said matter-of-factly, “I’m literally four steps away.” He ushered you into his bare apartment and looked around, slightly embarrassed. Joe looked different out of his uniform, without a cigarette, and without any furniture.

He looked like a young man, not the confident one he had introduced himself as on his balcony. You weren’t sure which version of him you liked more.

“I made food,” you smiled at him, lifting a warm bowl of pasta, “No tomatoes. It's bell pepper and cream though, if that’s okay with you.” 

He whistled. “You made something too? I swear I was joking about the spaghetti,” Joe laughed, a smile growing on your face as well, “But thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Leading you through the sparse living areas, which only had his suitcase and a mattress on the floor, Joe’s face reddened. “Haven’t gotten the chance to buy furniture,” he gave you a lopsided grin, “But I promise, the next time you come over, I’ll at least have a couch you can sit on.”

Everything he said came out so easily, and yet every word made you blush. Stepping onto the small balcony, your heart skipped yet another beat. 

Joe had placed down blankets and pillows on the metal floor. You looked up at him, your eyes wide. “This is amazing, Joe,” you breathed. And it truly was, despite how simple the whole thing was. 

He settled himself down on a pillow, patting the one beside him for you to sit as well. You placed the bowl down between you, taking out plates and forks. From where you were seated, you could see the whole San Francisco skyline, the sky pink as the sun slowly hid for the evening.

“Well,” he began, a wide grin on his face, “I had a beautiful girl comin’ over. I figured I’d have to impress her even without furniture.”

There he went again, with each word, crawling his way into your heart. “Good job, Sergeant Liebgott,” you winked at him, “You can consider me impressed.”

“Oh boy,” he piped, facing heavenward, “Being called Sergeant has never sounded so good.” You no longer fought back a smile, your heart feeling warm as you scooped up some pasta for him.

The two of you sat there, and once the food was finished, your stomachs both full, you and Joe peeked through the railings to see who could spot the number of cabs that passed by first. Joe eventually got tired of losing, despite you knowing his eyes were far more observant than yours-- you realised later on he was letting you win.

Leaning back down against the glass sliding door, a pillow between the two of you, you both watched the night sky, illuminated by the bright lights of Mainstreet. Joe was easy to talk to, your conversations ranging from his family to before the war. You were apprehensive, skirting around the edges of his actual time in Europe, but learned a thing or two about the men he served with.

“It's always bright here, is it?” he mumbled after a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you. You looked at him to see him gazing towards the darkened sky, his face blank. You nodded, not saying anything. “It was never really ever completely dark in Belgium either.”

You knew of the ‘Battered Bastards of Bastogne,’ almost everyone did. But you never realised the man beside you, so young and so alive, had been one of them. “What was it like?” you asked him, your voice quiet and unsure. 

He turned to look at you and gave you a reassuring smile-- ask me, his eyes seemed to say. “Sometimes it’d be so dark, you wouldn’t be able to see your hands in front of you,” Joe said, extending his arms in front of him to glance at his hands, “And then a light will pierce through the sky. You’d see it through the trees, and hear a high-pitched whistle.” 

You tried to imagine everything he was saying, looking up at the sky and pretending you were surrounded by a canopy of trees. Joe put a hand on your shoulder and shook his head. “Then when it’d come down, you’ll force yourself to think of a reason to stay alive,” he finished, his eyes trained on you, yet looking somewhere else, somewhere far. Belgium.

Cupping his cheek gently, you whispered, “What reasons did you give yourself?”

“My family,” he sighed, shutting his eyes, leaning into your touch, “But also the idea of driving my cab around again. Meeting a girl with soft titties and a smile to die for. All the little Liebgotts we’d make.” Joe said the last sentence with a cheeky smile, no malice, and you pat his cheek gently, pulling away. You eventually learned Joe had the capability to make everything sad happy again. 

Both falling once more in a comfortable silence, the night drew nearer, and you realised you had to go. Standing at the door, your own just a few steps away, a strange feeling of sadness surrounded you. “Thank you for tonight,” you forced a smile.

Joe tapped your nose once. “Don’t frown,” he grinned, and you couldn’t help but grin as well, “We can have dinner again, this time. I’ll cook.”

“I sure hope it isn’t one of the stews you guys had in the forest you were telling me about.”

Joe feigned offence, a hand on his chest. “You’re missing out, I swear,” he scrunched his eyebrows together, “The bones give a real nice crunch.” You let out a laugh, your voice echoing through the quiet hall. You waved him goodnight, taking a few steps to your own apartment, and turning the key. 

“And Y/N,” he called, and you turned to see him, his eyes soft as he leaned on the doorway, “Finally met the girl.” 

You were wrong, sneaking a glance down at your chest. Today was definitely different.

[rosaetae]

among the evergreen

☇ “The day you will see two of me is the same day you won't need me unless you say you do”

➣  pairing: reader x jungkook

➣  genre:  christmas themed, modernfantasy!au, e2l!au, fluff

➣  word count: 12.6k

➣  disclaimer:  this is literally an exaggerated satire of Hallmark Christmas movies filled with eggnog crack for the holiday spirit. please do not take this seriously. happy holidays! 

➣  summary: the odd christmas wedding with the odd christmas runaway with the odd christmas adventure with the odd christmas stranger

"You can't be serious right now, ___."

"Hyunjung, I've never been more serious in my entire life." Grabbing a chunk of clothes from your closet that ranged from sweaters to leggings, you shove it into your duffel bag. "This version my parents made of me?— I'm not her. They seriously think they're going to discipline me by selling me off to a man I don't know?"

"Oh, don't be dramatic. They're not selling you off, they just arranged a marriage for you."

You open your mouth, gaping at her. "Even worst! Where's my consent? Where's my sense of individualism?! I'm an adult and yet, they're giving me away to a random person they arranged a marriage with just last year!"

"And may I remind you that you're getting married to that random person in two weeks, ___. Perfect for a Christmas wedding," Hyunjung optimistically exclaims over the FaceTime call, removing her towel that was wrapped around her head and combing her hair with her fingers. "I don't think you should be leaving."

You cringe at her romanticizing an arranged marriage that takes away your sense of freedom.

"No, Hyunjung," you point your lotion bottle in your hand at her. "The version that my parents fabricated of me— she. She's the one getting married in two weeks. I, however, am taking a trip to Europe."

"Europe?" She repeats, nearly gaping at the sound of that. "That's why you need me to drop you off at the airport? Europe? Are you joking me?"

You nearly snort, folding one of your t-shirts messily and tossing it into the duffel. "You thought I was joking when I took that trip to Greece by myself. Does it look like I'm joking?"

"Insane. You're absolutely insane."

"I hope you say that in a good way," you throw a wink at her.

"You cannot be serious."

"And why not? I'm my own adult! I can go to another country myself. Plus, you remember Hana, right? She offered a place for me to stay in London."  

Hyunjung raises her eyebrows. "And you're sure Hana is going to let you into her humble abode and take you in?"

"98% sure," you pause for a moment, continuing on to your last minute packing of shoving whatever you could into a duffel. "The 2% is only if I actually get there before she leaves for Amsterdam."

"Wait, what?"

"I should be getting there before Tuesday night, hopefully. If not, then I'm stuck to tend to a motel for a couple of nights until she comes back from finishing that research project in Amsterdam," you snort. "Which will be unlikely. I scheduled a plane for Italy that leaves tonight. From there, I have to take a bus to Belgium to take a ferry to London, so essentially I should be there before Monday."

"Why not take a straight plane to London?" Hyunjung inquires, evidently confused to your excessive and over-the-top plan.

"Where's the fun in that?" You chuckle, grabbing your backpack. "Do you wanna hear my plan that I originally called you for?"

Hyunjung makes a motion with her hand, urging you to proceed into such plan that you always make up to escape your drowning parents.

"A couple nights ago, I bought a plane ticket to Italy. I went to a travel advisor today and paid for a bus and a ferry with cash. This way, my parents will simply think I'm in Italy and while they'll most likely hold this whole huge crazy man hunt for me in Milan, I'll be in London, living my own life, single as a bird. Maybe drinking tea with the queen, perhaps."

The thin look Hyunjung plasters on her face is as if she was talking to someone who told her that she was having twins— maybe even triplets.

"Okay," she begins slowly, squeezing lotion into her hands. "Where do I lie in all of this?"

"What?" Narrowing your eyes at her mischievously, you smirk. "You think you have a role in my plan to be set free?"

"I have a role in any devious plan you make up in your head to get the hell away from your, and I quote, "insane, restricting puppeteers of parents"," she scoffs, making you laugh. "Now what is it? Do you want me to lie to them that you're in Italy?"

"See, you're already ahead of the game!"

She rolls her eyes.

"I just need you to lie that I did go to Italy only for a few weeks and if they press you, just tell them that that's all I told you. Easy."

"Yeah, until your parents try to blackmail me."

"They've never blackmailed you."

"Yeah," she exclaims before biting her lip. "But they could!"

"They won't do that," you roll your eyes at them. Sure your parents are strict, but they find blackmail a bit too extra. "Look, are you going to pick me up soon or not? I have a flight to catch."

"Yeah, yeah," she sighs. "I'll leave in five."

The parents that you call yours were indescribably suffocating.

Over-exaggerating, but you do try to peer at it from their perspective, but all you see is publicity and reputation in a string of lies and facades— all of which is clearly evident because you were grown up to keep such a good reputation.

Daughter of a CEO of an oil company and a broadway star, your life was bound to be molded into the flawless model of what a family should be. From the fake smiles on the news to having to be present at elite parties that nearly make you want to rip your brain out, doing one wrong thing would be an instant detrimental effect to your family.

And being tired of having to keep an ideal picture during the day, you sneak out during the night under fake names and fake personas— you are not the daughter of two important people, you are yourself.

Not getting caught was your specialty. It progressed well over time, knowing how well you can harbor in the dark for so long without being exposed, but that week-long trip to Greece was what probably ruined your streak when your mother found out you were not on that school trip upstate, but you were oceans away, relaxing in the nice beaches of Corfu.

Maybe then your mother has gone insane trying to maintain a good reputation for you, but an arranged marriage? Something they've never told you about since two weeks ago? Hell, you were going to drop everything and go off grid just for the arranged marriage to not happen.

And that's exactly what you're going to do.

The current position you're, unfortunately, in is not ideal to your original plan you have set out for yourself.

Muscles growing tired, you've become exhausted, a tad bit dehydrated, and you had an odd craving for something with chocolate. And to tie it all off, your bus driver had just announced they are scheduled to depart a little later than usual as you sat at the window seat, pondering about the extra time you could've used to get a bottle of water and maybe some fudge brownies from the store, but sacrificing this seat is not apart of your plan.

So you sit there, watching strangers trickle in slowly to find seats on the bus, and thankfully none of them took the chance to sit in the empty seat next to you. As you finally grow a comfort in your seat, ignoring your growing dehydration and aching muscles, you may have spoke too soon when you felt the bus almost shake by how the one stranger slipped into the seat next to you with heavy momentum.

Glimpsing at the panting stranger, you shift your crossed legs to point towards the window. You don't see his face well enough, but you didn't show much care when you lay back into your seat. "Woah there, cowboy, we depart in twenty. You didn't have to rush and crash into this seat beside me."

"What?" He says, breathlessly. You can tell from the corner of your eye, he's giving you a questionable look. "It's supposed to depart at 10:30."

Snorting, you fix your posture. "Yeah, well, delays happen, big guy. It's going to be 11 now. Nice entrance."

As you peek at him, he don't miss the eyebrow he raises at you. Settling in nicely beside you, he holds out his hand in a polite manner. "Jungkook."

You glance at his hand and back at him, going back to leaning your head against the head support. "Hi."

"Ah," he takes his hand back after he notices you not taking it. "So you're going to make me ask you for your name?"

You arch an eyebrow at him. "I'm not making you do anything?"

"I introduced myself. It's a common courtesy to at least share a name back, but seeing that you didn't tell me your name, you're in turn ruining that common courtesy by having me ask you for your name."

"Or I'd rather keep my name to myself than reveal it to an utter stranger," you smile. "Nice try, but you haven't earned my trust enough to know my name."

He has a fixed gaze on you. "Did you want my life story in exchange?"

"That depends. How badly do you want to know my name?"

"Well," he lets out a dramatic sigh. "When I was little, my mom and dad got divorced and my mom married another man—"

"Hmm, see, " you cut him off. "I can't even trust that's a real story. Guess we're better off as strangers."

He chuckles as you close your eyes.

And that's how you shut him up from then, when the began to depart, and in the midst of just entering the freeway when you make the mistake of grabbing a small bag of pretzels from your backpack and sitting back to eat them in hopeful silence.

"Why are you heading to Brussels?" The stranger asks mid-crunch of your pretzel.

Your eyes widen slightly by the sudden question, before you're shrugging at him in response. "None of your business."

It would be easy to tell him that you're only there to catch a ferry, but along with that will follow up more questions— talking to him was draining enough.  

He lets out a light scoff. "A simple question."

"That's none of your business."

Jungkook cocks his head to the side as you're chewing on your pretzels. "Are you always this hard to crack?"

"Are you always this annoying?"

"Not really, but it's definitely getting a rise out of you."

"So I sit next to a dipshit named Jungkook who probably has daddy issues," you throw at him, referring to his previous said fact about him to exchange for your name. "Long hours ahead of us."

"And I, for one, intend to make the most out of it by trying to get to know you."

You snort, pulling out your earphones from your pocket, closing your eyes for the last time until the next stop. "Good luck."

Fortunately for you, when they flutter open, the bus had made a stop in the middle of a venue with greens and whites that catches your eye as you peer out the window. Making it quick, the bus driver announces for a 20 minute break parked in the Swiss Alps, instructing where the bathroom is and demonstrating a shop just in sight.

"Finally," you breathe in relief, feeling your dehydration grow with each second.

You ignore Jungkook and the fact that he was blocking you just slightly to take your break when you squeeze your way between him and the seat, making room for yourself between the people packing in the bus aisle to leave the bus as well.

The air was crisp and your breath was evident every time you exhaled, taking you aback by the wonders of the place around you. The skies were grey, but the massive trees and the sparkling fresh snow of the woods is what makes you wide-eyed.

And you think about how there are so many wonders in the world that your parents have not made you seen. Sure, you've visited Switzerland, but only for pure business. Never once were you told that you could explore and initiate that wanderlust that always grew inside of you when you're away from home.

Taking your boots and trudging through the snow, you follow the flock of people from the bus who are noticeably going inside one of the small wooden buildings or heading to where the restroom signs were.

Grabbing a water bottle along with a bag of chocolate-covered almonds, you're about to buy something with the cash you exchanged with Swiss Franc, when you tiredly see that the line was taking awhile. Letting out a yawn, you divert your attention out the window, only to see something interesting just nearby.

It was a cottage that looked completely different from the similar buildings like the store you're in. Squinting, your curiosity gets the best of you as you're trying to get a better look of it, noticing that there evident trails of moss on the roof, creating a rustic aura, as well as interesting charms being hung on the patio.

You wonder what's inside, completely enchanted by its appearance and its—

"What are you buying?" The voice of your familiar, annoying seat partner appears by your side, causing you to jump out of your thoughts and to scowl at his arrival.

"You don't ever know how to leave someone alone, huh?" You sarcastically grin to which he responds with a smirk, shaking his head.  

"Just you."

You give him a look before you're buying it. "Give me some space, Jungkook."

"I don't know if you're allowed to say my name when I don't know yours, gingercake."

You give him a fake smile before you were finally next in line and Jungkook seemingly follows you to the register. When you notice he's beside you empty-handed, you give him a pointed look. "You're not buying anything?"

"No," he replies. "I don't need anything."

"So, you're just here to annoy me then."

"Essentially," he laughs before he nods his head to a certain direction. "You noticed the cottage out there, too?"

"Quite creepy that you're watching me, don't you think?"

He shrugs. "Think of it what you will. But you didn't answer my question."

"I don't answer to strangers."

"But we're not," he says. "We're bus buddies."

"No," you cringe at the term he made for both of you as you grab the receipt and your snacks. "No, we're not."

Before he would say anything more, you make a hurried walk for the door, back turned to him.

"Oh, come on," he persists as he tries to walk beside you. "Is your name embarrassing, or something?"

"My name is none of your business."

"You're being so stubborn over a little thing. Are you like a wanted criminal? Is that why?"

You gasp dramatically as if he was correct. "Yes! Right on the nose!"

"Come on," he continues, knowing very well your sarcasm was not a pretty trait on you. "I'm not a snitch either way."

"No, but you do know how to get on my nerves."

"That hurts," he chuckles. "Come on, it's just a name—?"

You turn over to him in brooding irritation. "That you don't deserve to know, end of discussion. Jungkook, please, I am of little importance to you and you to me. Not knowing my name won't hurt you in the long run. So please, can I spend the rest of this bus ride without you bombarding me asking me what my name is?"

Jungkook looks at you before he puts his hands up in defeat. "Fine. But for the record, I have never met anyone so protective over something so little like their name."

"And I've never met someone so pushy, but here we are—" As you turn around, you notice that the bus was gone and your eyes widened.

"No, no, no," you mutter before you're sprinting towards the road and just there, the bus was moving further down the winding road, growing tinier within the second.

"Great! How absolutely peachy! We missed our bus!" You groan, removing your beanie from your head, exasperated. You turn over at Jungkook who just so happens to finally catch up to you, noticing the reason for your distress.

"It's fine, don't panic."

You turn over to face towards the standing dumbass with a baffled look. "We're in the middle of the fucking Swiss Alps, idiot! There is no service here. How the hell are we going to get to Brussels now?"

"Look, just calm down. Let's go inside and see if the cashier can help."

However, going into the store didn't help when the lady at the store didn't have any type of phone to help you contact anyone, nor was she interested in helping you both so she pointed you towards the cottage you happened to stare at earlier.

At first, you didn't oppose the idea, very curious as to what this cottage has to offer. And when you step onto the patio and a notice a wooden sign that says open, Jungkook is the first to turn the knob and take a step.

Remarkably, you're not walking in with fear, but you're walking in with a curious mind— and when you happen to step inside, you're not quite disappointed.

It was breathtaking— something you've never seen before. There were rows and rows of jars filled with herbs of sorts and odd colorful gems and crystals were displayed with the occasional plants that hung from the ceiling. A bucolic, yet eerie feeling was blossoming in your chest that you don't notice that you've walked farther in than Jungkook.

"Hello?" Jungkook calls aloud. You peer behind yourself, noticing his wandering eyes as you turn your head back front, focusing on the table with a crystal ball.

"Hello, is anyone here?" Jungkook tries again as you wonder where every single ancient thing came from before the sound of foot steps makes you pause, moving backwards to stand behind Jungkook.

"Visitors?" A voice of whom you'd assume belonged to a female spoke aloud in the unreal way possible.

As she makes an appearance coming out of one of the corridors, you notice that out gracefully comes a woman of red hair and piercing green eyes, lips decorated in berry and cheeks of a deep plum. Her clothing was almost a gypsy, but she wore a coat of fur over the gold jewelry she wore on her neck and hips.

"And what is this?" She brings a finger to her lips in utter astonishment and peculiarity, eyes narrowing to focus on you and Jungkook. "A wreath's bond?"

A what bond? You think.

Jungkook and you take a moment to glance at each other, exchanging odd looks before looking back at the woman who was shuffling towards the circular table with the crystal ball sitting in the center of it.

"Ah, you two don't know," she observes, laughing hysterically and taking a seat. You're confused, but there was an odd feeling in your stomach that seemed to give some sort of trust to her. "Come, you two. Sit. I have a feeling about you both."

"Actually," Jungkook begins, grabbing your wrist and preventing you from moving towards her. "We were told that you would know how to get to the nearest bus station."

Her head snaps up, and lets out a scoff. "By who?"

"Lady in the gift shop," you answer. "They had no phone, but she told us to come here."

"That damn grinch. Always tells visitors to come here when they need a phone or directions."

"Well, do you?" You ask politely.

"This is the Alps, honey-pie. There is no such thing as service here."

"Great, she sees you as food," Jungkook whispers quietly down to you. "She's going to eat us."

The joke that comes from Jungkook makes you nudge him with your elbow, releasing yourself from his grasp that you didn't realize was still there.

"Is there a bus stop nearby?" You try.

"Not nearby, but I can lead you to a village just an hour travel by walking... well, it's more of a ski resort, but surely there's people there willing to help."

"Where is it?"

She's silent before she's patting on the table, motioning you both to sit.

Jungkook and you hesitate, but you're the first to move, walking towards the lady who could easily kill you, but emanates curiosity that even you couldn't resist. Jungkook follows after you, sitting in the chair across from yours.

"Let me see your hands," she says, palms outwards, awaiting your hands. However, you were reluctant, looking up at Jungkook who was shaking his head discreetly. "Oh, I promise I won't bite. I'm Evanora, the friendly witch of the east."

"A witch?"

"That could explain the crystal ball," Jungkook nods, staring directly at the iridescent ball sitting on the table.

"What did you think I was?" She inquires, a berry-lipped smile on her face. "And the crystal ball is just for decoration. Now, hands. Give."

You, with a slight bit of reluctance, gives your hand to her, Jungkook following after you as the witch throws a smile, to which she closes her eyes and slightly squeezes.

You meet Jungkook's smile he was trying to prevent by the odd circumstance you both were in, you shrugging in uncertainty before Evanora opens her eyes.

She nods, pointing outside her window. "If you go down the trail, you will see cabins."

"Wait, that's it?" Pressing her, you were immediately concerned as to what she saw.

"What I saw," she pats your hand in an eerie manner. "Shouldn't be said."

You open your mouth, curious as to what on earth she could possibly have seen that's making her bite back a smile. Eyes peering over to Jungkook, you shake your head. "It doesn't matter anyways," you scrunch your eyebrows at her words. "Trail? What trail?"

"Packed up by snow. But if you follow the opening of those trees, you will find the village." She gives a smile before it immediately fades.

"What?" Jungkook presses, noticing her mood change.

"I must warn you, there are winter elves ahead."

"Elves," you blink.

"Like Santa's elves?"

"Winter elves," she nods. "Do not interact with them. They tend to distract you from your purpose. And they like to steal anything shiny."

"You can't be serious," you arch an eyebrow.

"You've met a witch. Is it really that hard to believe?" Evanora says as she stands. "Go, embark on your journey, but I will tell you this—"

Jungkook stands quite abruptly, seemingly ready to leave the cabin of Evanora's while you stand up slowly, awaiting for Evanora to finish. "Lose one another, you will lose the purpose."

"We won't lose each other," you promise.  

"I have a feeling that you may," she quietly says, but it was audible for you to hear. "And when you must, your wreath's bond will find you both again."

Scrunching your eyebrows together at the phrase, you're about to open your mouth to ask for explanation.

Immediately, the witch puts her finger up to silence you before she smirks. "The day you will see two of me is the same day you won't need me unless you say you do."

The two of you searched for the opening of the immense and jaw-dropping trees before you, noticing the snow, as Evanora said, being packed up on a trail, however that didn't stop the two of you from walking down the trail.

When you first begin walking, Jungkook is quiet, knowing that you're in your thoughts. And he was right. The so-called witch made you more concerned, especially after she held your hands and said she couldn't say what she saw. You think of the bad things that she must've seen, ranging from a terrible accident or a betrayal or anything that would bring you in harms way.

"Come on, you actually believe she's an actual witch?" Jungkook asks all of a sudden. He must have noticed your brain turning in the silence. "She didn't give us the best directions. She told us to find a ski resort where someone can help us."

"The day you will see two of me is the same day you won't need me unless you say you do," you say aloud, slowly. "What does she mean?"

"Just a whole lot of mumbo jumbo to me," he postulates. "She was probably just saying shit out of her ass." When he sees that you've paused, Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you. "You're not telling me you actually believe in that nonsense?"

"I'm superstitious. I believe in ghosts, aliens, mermaids. A witch doesn't sound like nonsense."

Embarrassed wasn't the word you'd say you felt when Jungkook looks at you, flabbergasted after you decree that you believe in the supernatural. Maybe a tad bit awkward, but seeing that he lets out a chuckle, you purse your lips. "You've read Harry Potter, haven't you?"

"No. No, I haven't actually. I just believe in a little bit of magic, that's all."

"I still think the winter elves is a load of bullshit," he states. "Come on. Elves?"

"Yeah," you nod, semi-lying. "Yeah, I know."

From then on, it felt exhausting.

The continuous trudging in the snow with heavy boots felt overtiring, but determination was your factor that kept you persisting. You couldn't afford to miss a day— not when you didn't think of pulling out enough cash from the bank, so paying for a couple of nights at a motel in London will surely give your location away to your parents who are probably on a manhunt for you.

Just then, Jungkook, who was in front of you, stops.

It makes you bump into him, looking up from the white snow to give him a questioning look. Seeing that he points at something in front of him, you glance at the direction, noticing evident small houses that were seemingly built by branches scattered amongst the area.

"Is this it? Are these the winter elves we have to worry about? Oh man, I sure hope they don't eat my toes!" Jungkook howls, hands on his stomach as he pokes at one of the houses on a tree stump. "Oh no, I wonder if they're magical. Are they gonna freeze us to death?"

You stand up straight, rolling your eyes at him. "Pipe the fuck down, asshole," you scold him, punching his shoulder.

"Oh, come on, did you really believe there would be winter elves? Elves? Please, these are houses made out of branches that a hiker probably made—"

His words were muted out when your ears catching something similar to a musical pipe.

"Shh," you bring a finger to his mouth. "Do you hear that?"

Jungkook's words are mute with your finger pressed against his lips while your ears try to pick up what sounded more clearly like a faint flute folk song.

Scrunching his eyebrows, he brings a hand to your wrist, removing your hand from his lips and stares at you intently. Gazing up to him, you stand still when he comes near to you, bringing his previously muted lips to your ear.

"That's the wind," he whispers, causing you to exasperatingly sigh, lifting your hands to push him away as he cackles loudly that he was clenching his stomach once more.

Annoyed wasn't a term you'd settle with how you were feeling at the moment, but as you stand there, with arms crossed over your body, you wait for him to shut up. "For gods sake, come on."

Grabbing his arm, you continue to walk along the veiled trail, his laughter fading away after a long time, and once it did, your breath nearly stops when ahead you see a spread of lights.

"Is that it? The ski resort she was talking about?" Jungkook asks, panting as you shrug, continuing to walk as you saw people in layers walk around. You admire the colors they were wearing, some were neutrals, but some wore festive colors of red and green, gold and white.

"Come on, old man," you tell him as he was trailing further from you.

"Slow down a little bit, would you?" He calls for you as you throw a grin at him, turning back around to keep walking on the cobblestone sidewalk, mesmerized by the village.

After a few steps of being mesmerized of the things around you, you turn around, noticing that you weren't the only thing mesmerized by the things around you, but when you see Jungkook being swept away off his feet into what seems to be a pub by a strand of golden hair, you're once again, annoyed.

Pursing your lips, you let out a sigh and turn around, beginning to walk down the street, easily letting your contempt ease off your chest as you try to look for someone to help by yourself. You didn't even care if you were going to have to leave this ski resort by yourself, that was your whole purpose.

You walk further down, watching in awe as the people decorate their exteriors, putting up tinsel, lights and garlands, those carrying a fresh tree into their homes, and those carrying stacks of presents, curious at how festive the place was being.

Stopping in front of a store, you stare from the outside, admiring the exterior before your eyes narrow, attempting to peek inside the store.

First, you see a spectrum of colors of what your eyes focused to be wrapping paper of different designs and patterns galore. You think it's a gift store, but then, you observe that there are people in rows, wrapping boxes in a quick and swift motion. At first, you're marveling at how fast they're wrapping, tying it all off with a bow on top and tossing it in a pile of other finished presents before you're thinking they resemble something so familiar that—

You're distracted.

Realizing this, you tear your eyes away from the store, continuing to walk, searching for someone who was not tending to decorating or not busy in this ski resort to help you, only when you reach a revelation.

This was no ski resort— at least one without a ski left. And as if Evanora's raspy voice was echoing in your ear, you realize the mistake that you and Jungkook made; you separated.

It is with no hesitation that you're walking with a brisk pace, others on the street looking up at the foreigner walking towards the pub in such a hurry.

You pull on the door, a bell indicating that customer walked in, eyes searching for the person you were warned not to split from, implicitly ignoring that others were looking at you with a strange curiosity.

Walking inside and letting the door shut behind you, your eyes graze upon the small pub before they stop to the familiar raven-haired boy talking to the blonde in which her pernicious coquetry was evident even from afar.

You're about to grab Jungkook from his arm in attempt to drag him away, but you stop when you see that the blonde seductively takes a finger to his neck, tracing a line down his throat to hook her finger along the silver chain that was tucked under his shirt.

Nearly vomiting whatever was in your stomach at the sight in front of you, you crinkle your nose in utter remorse when Jungkook looks at her up and down, a smirk on his face.

The sight merely makes you leave the pub, until you turn around adamantly, only to remember what Evanora was saying— they tend to distract you from your purpose.

Groaning distinctly, you whip towards the idiot and the seducing winter elf, clearing your throat at the two who were sharing a laugh together.

"Oh, hey," Jungkook looks up at you briefly before looking back at the blonde. "There you are. Where were you?"

"Can I grab you for a second?" You say oddly sweetly, feigning the blonde a friendly smile lifted by your cheeks in which she returns one politely before going back to drinking from her cup. Without even hearing Jungkook try to object, you grab his arm hastily and take him outside.

Jungkook stumbles over his feet for a moment before the crisp winter air hits both of your faces on impact. "Woah there, gingercake. What's going on?" Even with a tug, it doesn't loosen your grip from his arm as you try to drag him away from the pub as fast as possible.

"We're leaving," you utter, but hearing that, Jungkook immediately stops, your turn to be the one stumbling.

Turning around with a huff, you give him a scowl, letting your hand that was digging into his arm go. He opens his mouth, his narrow eyes questioning your motive. "Why?"

"Jungkook, just listen to me."

He crosses his arms across his chest, a smug painting his features. "What if I don't want to?"

You half-heartedly scoff at him, shrugging. "Fine, then stay. I couldn't care less."

He opens his mouth to say something, but even when he could even process words to elicit, you're already turning around again, eyes focusing on the horizon that's being set as your only goal and focus. As you walk ahead with persistence, you curse in your head for even being kind enough to get him out a situation that could easily have him stripped.  

"Hey, woah," Jungkook jogs up to reach in front of you. Stopping to raise an eyebrow at him, you observe him as he gives you an uncertain look. "Is that jealousy in your voice?"

"How rich," you scoff. "Jungkook, I am anything but jealous right now, and you're really testing me." Moving around him, you continuing to walk before he stops you again, looking around to find a gap between stores, pulling you to the side from the strangers who were walking past you both.

"You are!" He exclaims once he successfully pulls you away.

"Jungkook," you exasperate, before lowering your voice. "This is not the ski resort. This is the village Evanora warned us about."

"What?"

"You were flirting with a winter elf, idiot," you whisper loudly. "This is not a ski resort, it's a village of winter elves."

Jungkook half-heartedly laughs, shaking his head. When he sees that your face was anything but amused, his face morphs into confusion. "No, there's no such thing as—"

Rolling your eyes, you shut him up by moving closer to him, eyes not tearing away from his when you bring your finger to his neck, which ultimately makes him freeze at your sudden movements. As you're tracing down his throat, you don't think of anything more as you yank down the collar of his shirt, only to reveal what you originally suspected.

"Where's your necklace, Jungkook?" You ponder, your eyes never leaving his. Jungkook hesitates before he removes his eyes from yours and looks down, your hand not leaving its current state and exposing his bare, pale chest.

He inhales sharply before you finally let your hand go, waiting for his eyes to meet yours again. You take a step back, crossing your arms with slight arrogance as you offer an amused smile.

"She was trying to seduce you, Jungkook," you state. "So she could steal. She obviously did a good job when she made you forget your purpose and stole your necklace."

"For fuck's sake," Jungkook curses, running a hand through his hair. You were close to tell him 'I told you so', but you refrain when he takes your wrist and drags you out of the opening. "Let's go."

The scenery was beautiful, with the green hues that contrasted with the white that was almost so bright it blinded you, but with the little bit of sun that peeked from the clouds, you couldn't help but get distracted with everything around you.

It almost makes you feel like you don't have a crazy dad or an insane mother that expect you to be home in perfect condition just to sell you off to someone you don't know.

You must have been mindlessly walking and trudging in the snow with your boots nearly weighing you down because just when you bump into something, you're about to curse at yourself for being stupid to walk into a tree. That is, until you realize it wasn't a tree, it was Jungkook's form, who had idiotically taken a halt that caused you to bump into him.

"Jungkook—"

"Look," he cuts you off. Peering over his shoulder, your reaction had shifted from annoyance to awe when you notice that the evergreens weren't the only wonder.

Walking down to the ski resort was just over a hill, trudging over inches of snow and having to make sure not to fall face forward. Jungkook eventually sees a bit of struggle coming from you— to which, in your defense, he has an advantage due to his elongated legs— and reaches out to your for support. However, your adamancy slaps his hand away, continuing to walk over the hill to see more of the lights that contrasted the nearing night sky.

"Hey, question," he inquires aloud once the snow had reached scarce and just ahead were the many wooden buildings with warm lights.

Nodding, you spare him a glance, breathing almost heavy as you both continue to walk. "Shoot."

"Don't you think you could've stopped her when she was stealing my necklace?"

Jungkook reaches to your side as you both reach the icy street where people were bundled in clothes. What reassured you were the group of people walking down the street across from you, carrying their snowboarding gear inside a building, their laughter echoing down the streets.

Without pondering, you shrug. "I wasn't the one flirting with her."

"I'm going to ignore your raging jealousy here and ask you one more time—"

"Jungkook, I wasn't the idiot who easily got distracted and forgot what Evanora said," you cut him off. "She said that, lose each other you lose your purpose— and while you were being whisked away by some winter elf, I was trying to find someone to help us. It's not jealousy, it's called not being stupid."

"Great," he exhales deeply. You don't miss the stress that elicited along with it, you cocking your head to the side in sudden curiosity.

"Why? Was it important?"

He waves you off. "It was just a family necklace, that's all."

"A family necklace," you repeat, before scrunching your eyebrows. "Sounds pretty important to me."

"Doesn't matter anymore," he shakes his head as you both continue to walk down the village. "It's gone now."

Feeling a tad bit sympathetic, you reach up to him, matching his pace. "This," you say as you pull out your hand from your pocket. "This was handed to me by my mother which was given by her mother and by her mother and by her mother."

He peers down at your frozen hands, eyeing the ring. "What does the leaf mean?"

You don't tell him that the leaf meant growth.

In your mother's line of successful women, the ring was always passed down so long as there would be potential demonstrated. Your grandmother, being a former model, and your mother, having to be a broadway musical star, you were seen to have potential to be an heiress of the company your father runs— but it's too bad you distasted such high expectations. Hell, you were even willing to have the elves steal this rather Jungkook's necklace when all you're doing is creating a ruination in your line of successful women.

"It's alright," Jungkook says, shaking his head after noticing your reluctance. "You won't tell me your name, I can't expect you to tell me the meaning of your family ring."

At first, you're taken aback at how easy that was for him to say that, especially after trying to have you choke out your name. You stare, flabbergasted but almost grateful he didn't try to push this time.

"The necklace was given to me by my uncle from my mother's side," Jungkook explains nonchalantly as you both unconsciously walk towards the line of cabins that most likely held travelers. "Said he'd give it to his son if it weren't for the fact that his wife can only reproduce daughters."

Snorting, you quirk a smile at him. "How many daughters does he have?"

"Five," he chuckles. "All of who are very, very annoying."

"Why's that?"

"Annoying in a way that they're disgustingly successful," he says. "Runs in the blood except for mine."

To that, you let out a snigger. "I can definitely relate to that."

"What's this?" He laughs. "We're actually having a decent conversation?"

Rolling your eyes, you give him a nudge, shaking your head.

And oddly enough, for once the silence when both of your laughter dies isn't awkward— it's not tension nor is it uncomfortable. It's almost pleasant.

Jungkook, silently, looks at you in a peculiar fond way that makes you slow down your pace a bit. Your insides twist and turn in your stomach at the way he just stares at you without so much of a word— as if he's either judging you or he's admiring you, in which you're hoping deep down it's the former.

You're exhaling a shuddering breath when you desperately decide to ruin the moment, taking one of your hands out of your pocket at pointing at one of the cabins. "Over there," you declare, cheeks beginning to redden. "Let's try over there."

And you do not miss a second to speed up your pace, careful on the slippery street not to slip, hearing Jungkook walking behind you.

When you finally reach to a random cabin with a car parked outside, you're silently hoping that they would answer the door to two strangers.

And with each second passed and your hopes were falling, you hear the door unlatch, your ears perking at the sound when the door opens. A man, wearing a red plaid flannel and a black beanie opens it with a confused look.

"Hello?" He asks and your eyes light up.

"Hi!" You cheerily state, relieved that someone was even willing to open the door. "Sorry to be such a bother, but we're stranded and we were hoping if you knew where the nearest bus station is?"

The stranger nods with a warm smile. "It's down the hill, actually. Quite a trip on foot."

"Is it?" Jungkook asks. "Are there any taxis or maybe Ubers that you know of that's available here?"

The stranger shakes his head. "Nope, but I'd be gladly to drop you guys off there."

"Wait, really?" You ask in surprise, looking at Jungkook with excited eyes. "That'd be really great!"

"Of course," he gleams. "I'm assuming you both need to get to your families for Christmas."

Jungkook and you exchange glances. "Something like that."

"I'll let my wife know and grab the keys."

"Thank you!" You call out, the door being left a crack open as you turn over with Jungkook with excitement. You're nearly about to squeal when Jungkook gives this uncertain look that throws your whole excitement out the window. "Alright, what's in your panties that got you in a twist?"  

"You really trust this guy?"

Your expression falls, shrugging. "He's got a car— unless you want to walk another who-knows miles on foot by yourself?"

"We can't trust everyone we meet, you know."

Ironic he said that. Your expressions falls as you narrow your eyes. "Says the one who trusted a winter elf."

Sure, pettiness could be drawn from tHe opens his mouth to make a riposte, but the stranger comes back with his keys and a coat over his shoulders.

"I'm Seokjin, by the way," he introduces himself as he unlocks the car, both you and Jungkook sitting the backseat. He turns the engine on, immediately turning on the heater that felt like cold air at first.

When he backs up out of the snow without the problem of getting stuck, you feel your body at ease as you finally realize that your plan was setting back on track.

Seokjin speaks up, apparently disliking the silence that you both elicited. "How did you guys get stranded?"

"Our bus left without us," you tell him. "It was his fault."

Jungkook gapes at your accusation. "Oh, nice, we're pointing fingers now?"

Couldn't help but laugh in return, you counterfeit a smile. "Can't deny it."

"You know, for a person to look so nice," Jungkook tilts his head to the side. "You're an absolute pain."

"Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee," you send a wink his way, immediately frowning afterwards. "Piss off, Jungkook."

"Love to, gingercake, but looks like we're stuck with each other for—"

And just then, Jungkook's voice trails off by the sonorous jolly laugh that comes from the man  in the front seat. You turn your attention to him, wondering why on earth he would be laughing. "Sorry. You both remind me of my wife and I."

"What?" Jungkook and you say in unison.

"We used to banter like that a lot."

To that, you snort. "Banter is an understatement. Can't help it when he's a walking idiot."

"And she's a headache in human form," Jungkook pipes in, to which you glare in return.

"Well, my wife used to call me dick for brains," he adds, a jolly chuckle following after as he reminisces his memory lane. "But, I guess I must have warmed up to her if she somehow let dick for brains marry her."

"Yeah, well, she's much more stubborn and colder than that. I don't even know her name."

"You don't?" His eyes peer in the rearview mirror to give us a glance.

"We just met. And besides," you reason, shifting uncomfortably in the seat. "It's not important."

It really wasn't. Your name isn't really your identity when all you think about when you hear it is high expectations. If you let your name be known, everyone is bound to find out who you are and eventually— with word getting around— your mother will find out where you are running away to.

Sure, you could make up a fake name, but you'd be creating bridges even after this trip you know you're going to have to burn them.

He chuckles. "I remember my wife being that stubborn. She really wanted me to give up on her."

"I'm guessing you didn't," you observe.

"She was worth all the constant banters, I'll tell you that," he shakes his head. "Once, she didn't want to admit she was sorry for keeping us a secret from her friends and family. It took her three months of guilt to finally say sorry."

"Three months?" Jungkook ponders. Seokjin nods behind the wheel.  

"It took her time to tell her friends and family about us, but she eventually apologized."

"She must have been scared to want to hide it from them."

The idiot next to you snorts. "Or embarrassed."

"Scared," he answers. "Which is why I forgave her the day I found out about it."

"And you let her feel guilty for three months?"

"I knew she was sorry from the beginning. I just didn't think that the most adamant person in the world would even think of apologizing to me," he chuckles. "But hey, eventually she did."  

To that, Jungkook lets out a chuckle before he's making a trip around the roundabout, making a stop in front of a wide building.

"Here's your stop," he says, putting the car in park. "You two have a nice Christmas, alright?"

You smile at him. "You and your wife as well. Thank you again for helping us."

He shoots you a smile just before you close the car door. "Anytime."

When you hurry inside the bus station, you totally forget about the time until you see it on the massive clock built in the station, and you sincerely hope that the next bus ride to Brussels would be in the next 2 hours. Luckily, as you and Jungkook stood in line for awhile, you both get a ticket for the next bus to your destination which comes in the next twenty minutes.

And as you're trying to forage for remaining cash, you realize that you were short. Jungkook must have noticed this when he coolly steps up and gives his cash, paying for his and your ticket. You look at him, surprised, when they give two tickets to him.

"You didn't need to do that," you utter to him as he gives your ticket.

He shoots you a winning smile, a wink following after. "All you have to say is thank you."

The entire trip of having to hike down the woods was more exhausting than the plane ride to Milan that you couldn't help yourself when you fall asleep on the bus ride. Jungkook must have knocked out too when you wake up in the middle of a bus stop, head on his shoulder.

You think of the possible reason as to why he would be going to Brussels. After all, this whole trip was of him trying to ask questions of you, not the other way around. And it's not like you weren't interested— it wasn't your priority to get to know someone you won't end up knowing in the next week anyways.

Because like everything in the world, not everything is permanent.

You let your head fall onto his shoulder once more, basking in the comfort that will only last for so long.

Getting off the bus at your desired location, you both realize that it reached dusk, the sun had made its set and the night has become dark. It made a stop just nearby a grand area of colorful lights that intrigued you from afar.

You turn around to face Jungkook who stretches as he hops off the bus. Shooting tired smile your way, you decide to give one back.

"Do you want to go see what's over there?" You ask him, nodding your head towards the place that caught your attention.

His eyes flicker from what you were indicating to yours, a mischievous look painting over his former tired one before he angles his arm, in which you gladly take as you both make way to the bright, shining lights before you.

It doesn't take you long to realize that it's some sort of Christmas Market, as advertised by some of the posters that you saw on the way to the big area.

There were chatters and squeals and Christmas songs galore and despite the weather being cold and brisk, you felt warm.

Saying that there were colorful lights would be an understatement, when really, the Christmas Market looked like an utter theme park within itself. The tall, elongated buildings were decorated from head to toe and even the gazebos that gave shelter to those selling— it was all breathtaking.

It must have taken Jungkook's breath away too when you catch him eye goggling at the many fascinating attractions around him.

"So," you begin, ready to take your first bite from your waffle that Jungkook bought for you after he saw you eyeing it from afar. "Why did you want to come to Brussels?"

The questions surprises him, but his answer was responded with ease. "To start anew."

"Does it have to do with the whole success-running-in-family's-blood-besides-yours thing?"

"You could see it that way," he chuckles. "Or simply because life as it is now for me isn't exciting."

You give him a look, lowering your waffle. "You sound discontent."

"And you sound like you know exactly what I'm talking about."

Chuckling, you shrug. "Well, I'll just say that my trip isn't so much of a nice vacation."

"Hm, you sound tired of the life you have."

"Sounds like you know exactly what I'm talking about."

And with that, both of your words are left in the air as you both are walking down, side by side, down the streets of the brightly lit Christmas market, being thousands of miles away from home.

In your own thoughts, you think about the what if's. What if you didn't hear your parents talk about an arranged marriage for you? What if you actually were forced into it like everything you've ever done in your life? What if you're walking down the aisle to meet a man you haven't even said one word to? What if you end up not loving him?

This wasn't any type of romantic story where two strangers eventually fall in love through force, this is was an ending to your own story. Realistically, there's a chance that the person you're going to marry isn't the prince charming or the knight in shining armor that anyone would expect.

And there goes your life.

Gone and wasted, and not being able to give it a second chance.

However, you weren't letting that happen now— not at this moment in time.

"Do you think that such high expectations can be overbearing?" You ponder out loud, glancing at Jungkook who was a bit startled by your sudden question.

"A lot of the times," he responds. "Why? What type of high expectations are you being held to?"

"Doing something that I don't want to do," you state honestly. "That's why I came all the way here."

"Avoiding it?"

"You could see it that way."

"Can't avoid it forever," Jungkook says. Can't avoid it forever.

You don't think you've ever seen a light show— or at least not one against a building that brings people's jaws to the ground, so when you're watching it, you're absolutely mesmerized.

The lights were dancing and moving in a fluid motion, you were marveling each second of it.

There's a feeling in your chest. So bright and so merry, you finally understand why almost everyone loves Christmas. With your family either being busy during the holidays, you never realized that this is what you're supposed to feel like. Light and finally content.  

Gleaming up at Jungkook, you only smile wider when you realize you caught his eyes. "What is it?"

There was this ghost of a smile on his face that he hides. "Nothing."

You give him a nudge, smugly grinning at him. "It's a simple question."

When he hears you repeat his statement in target to him, he gives this smirk— and for once you're not looking away in irritation or giving him some snarky comment back because when his eyes flicker to your lips and back to your eyes, you knew what was bound to happen.

And you were inevitably going to let it.

Jungkook, with gentle hands, brings you to him, pressing his warm lips onto yours and it is as if you felt your entire body just melt. You move softly against his lips, savoring every bit, but your lips were not helping themselves when they curl into a smile.

He is warm. Like a mug filled with hot chocolate, he is a fireplace on a Christmas eve, and admittedly, you've never been this warm in the cold.

When he lets go, he's looking at you with eyes shaped as crescents. "You trust me enough to kiss you but not know your name?"

To that, you let out a joyous laugh, reaching up on your tip-toes to kiss his cheek. "I'll have you know that revealing your name is dangerous."

Jungkook scoffs, dropping his hands from your cheeks. "How dangerous could yours be?"

You bit back a smile at his subtle frustration, grabbing his falling hands and holding them in yours. "Very."

And all throughout the night, it was filled with cheer and excitement as Jungkook and you strolled around in the everlasting lights. Free samples and attractions at its finest, you both spent your time together forgetting you two had lives you're running away from.

And until your legs couldn't hold you up much longer, you had to go find a nearby motel for the night, forgetting that you had to leave early in the morning for a ferry.

Jungkook and you fought for paying for the room, but Jungkook, being charming in a revolting way, inevitably wins and chooses a room where you both end up with a fireplace and a king bed together.

Just before your eyes were closing, time spent with him was filled with giggles and laughter in the air. He tells you about this one story of how, one Christmas, he thought he saw Santa Clause, but it just his dad's friend dressed in a suit trying to climb chimney for his sake. The story makes you laugh, and though almost unbelievable, it makes you flutter your eyes close, reaching a deep sleep that you desperately needed.

That morning, you feel like a child on Christmas morning— even when Christmas isn't for the next week. You felt excitement twist in turn as curiosity has gotten the best of you that all you wanted to do was run downstairs and open the presents that Santa brought.

However, the feeling was fleeting— because even children soon realize that Santa isn't real. And that breaking feeling was because of reality that waves over you as your eyes fixate on the sun that peeked through the window.

Waking up to Jungkook next to you, lightly snoring, makes you feel all sorts of butterflies— something you haven't felt in such a long while. You feel almost giddy, knowing that there's someone there and it just happened to be him, but of course, you knew it wasn't going to last long.

Not wanting to leave without goodbye, you bring your hand to his arm, giving him a little shake as you wake him up. A smile creeping on your face as he groggily awakes, squinting at your active presence.

"Hey," you say quietly. "I have to go."

Go was what made him sit up in bed quickly. "What?" He asks, voice raspy.

"I have a ferry to catch," you say as he rubs his eyes. "I wasn't going to stay in Belgium."

"You weren't?" He frowns. "Where are you heading?"

"London," you reply and you watch as his tired face falls, sitting up straight. "It was nice. You know, meeting you and all."

He smirks at you. "The feeling's mutual."

To that, you smile. "Well," you shrug, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. It was the least you could do. "Merry Christmas, Jungkook."

"Wait!" He pulls your arm back when you pull away. Raising an eyebrow at him, he looks at you with hopeful eyes. "Not even a name?"

You think you'd owe him a name, but you shake your head. "Maybe the next time I see you," you bit back a smile. "But, no worries, I won't forget yours."

When you get to Hana's place in London, you're glad that you made it just in time before she left for Amsterdam. You were also glad that your duffel bag and backpack that were stranded in the bus that left without you was brought to Hana's after you filed a claim for your missing belongings at the bus station.

Hana welcomed you with an embrace, bombarding you with questions that you didn't have time to answer because she had to leave that night, but she made sure she had enough time to catch up with you. You don't tell her about the colossal, mad adventure you had with Jungkook and how he lingers in your thoughts, but instead you tell her about the good things you expect to happen in your time in London.

And before she left to the airport, she gives you a hug, wishing you all the best luck for the holiday season in exploring a city you haven't been to. While you had the house to yourself for less than 24 hours, you realized that all good things come to end.

Especially when you answer the door and your mother is on the other side, hands on her hips.

You completely froze seeing upon her arrival. "Mom, what are you... what are you doing here?"

Without a word, she barges in, sitting on the orange sofa that Hana owns, crossing a leg over her other as she looks at you with darting eyes. "You think I don't remember Hana moving to London? I knew after you took that trip to Greece that you would make a spontaneous trip to London knowing that Hana lives here, but I didn't expect it this soon— oh." Your mother points at you. "—You are something else."

Being yelled at by your own mother felt like a chore, so you calmly close the front door she walked through, walking over to her. "Mom, I don't want to get married."

Her eyebrows furrow together. "___."

"Look, I'm an adult. Most moms want you to focus on finishing college and being able to make a living for yourself, but no, my mom wants me to focus on being presentable— not to mention that she wants to give me away so quickly! And it's not even with a person I love."

"___—"

You shake your head, cutting her off. "You are not making me go back there and marry someone I don't know."

"Sweetheart," she begins before she stands up, searching for your eyes. "You ran all the way here just because you didn't want to get married?"

"I ran all the way here to live, Mom. I wanted to live and experience life without having to worry about what the media has to think about me. Or having to put on a fake smile knowing that I'm a CEO's daughter and the heiress and that if I mess up, that's on me."

Your mother frowns, but you can only shrug in response. "For once, I just wanted to live. Is that so bad?"  

Finally, you give her her turn. You hear her sigh, almost disappointingly, but if a little disappointment is what will give you what you need, then you can live with it. "Darling, I think then this is a good time to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

She lets out another sigh. "You're not really getting married."

You blink. "What?"

"You must have overheard your father and I when he were talking with Mr. Jeon, but we didn't want to tell you when we first arranged it."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not actually getting married," she enunciates. "You're having a wedding to look like you're married, but you don't have to go through with it."

You open your mouth in confusion, but immediately close it when your mother continues.

"In order for your father to establish this business proposal with Arua&Co., the CEO's grandfather needs the approval. By doing that, he needs a traditional reason as to have two major companies combine rather than a very good proposal, and that solution is a wedding."

"But, how—"

"Our loophole is that he specifically said he wanted a wedding, not a marriage— not to have both of our kids actually marry each other. So, if you're dressing up and looking as if you're getting married, you don't have to go through saying 'I do' if you don't want to."

"So you're not really giving my life to someone I don't know."

"That's sick," she full-heartedly scoffs. "I may expect a lot from you, ___, but this is just the one thing we really need you to do. After that day, you're still single as you want to be."  

"Really?"

"Yes, and..." Her voice trails off as you cock your head to the side. "I wanted to tell you this, but because you ran away so soon..." She pauses before she looks at you with a motherly gaze, one that you haven't seen in a long time. "I know that your father and I have a lot of expectations from you, but I know you're an adult. And you need to live your life." You felt your stomach clench. "If you want your freedom, I'll give it to you."

Your jaw nearly falls but she puts her finger up quickly. "With certain restrictions!"

"That's fine— anything!" Nearly squealing, your eyes widen with happiness. "You really mean that?"

"Yes, I'm tired of having to be dreaded by you— my own flesh and blood," your mother laughs. "So, you don't have to come to any of the events we go on. But you will go to the ones we need you to be there for. And you can leave without being monitored, just— shoot me a text from now on. I'm going to get a heart attack the next time you decide to go halfway across the country without letting me know," she says begrudgingly that you couldn't help but give her hug.  

A hug that was genuine. A hug that you haven't given her in a long time.

"Really?" You ask, voice muffled in the hug.

"Really. Merry Christmas, honey," she promises, basking into the hug. "Now, can we go home? After you shower? You smell the bus."

To that, you lightly chuckle, nodding. "Right, but— can I do one more thing?" You ask, pulling away to give her a sheepish look. "Can we go to Switzerland real fast?"

It was a long story of how he managed to be back here, but long story short, Jungkook is one day in Brussels having beer, and now his two best friends are helping him put on a suit.

"I told you running away from your problems is never a good idea," Namjoon says as tends to the cuffs of Jungkook's scarlet velvet suit. Namjoon, the always practical one, was not helping his dread at all on this day.

Jungkook, groaning, looks at himself in the mirror, never thinking that this is how he would be spending his Christmas eve. "I don't want to be here."

"Well, you are and you're going to marry the girl, whether you like it or not," Hoseok asserts, flipping carelessly through his magazine of interior design.

"Thanks," Jungkook says with a hint of sarcasm.

Namjoon chuckles. "You're gonna wanna say I do anyways. I just met her and she's actually really cool."

"It's just... weird. I've never met her in my life and now I'll be spending the rest of it with her," Jungkook states and immediately he thinks of you— the stubborn girl he doesn't know the name and now he's probably never going to find her and actually know her name. Not when he's going to be all over the media platforms after this wedding and you to find out that he's actually an heir to Arua&Co. and married to some girl who probably isn't as adamant, or pretty, or curious as you.

Namjoon shrugs. "Yeah, well. You'll form a bond somehow."

Jungkook looks up from his suit after hearing a bond. Mind immediately tracing back to what the witch— if she even is one— Evanora said: a wreath's bond.

It doesn't take long before Jungkook raises an eyebrow, recalling the moment of when he sat down at the table across from the stranger and next to the witch, stating some sort of phrase— a riddle.

"The day you will see two of me is the same day you won't need me unless you say you do— it's today," Jungkook speaks.

"Aw, shit. Great," Namjoon announces, letting go of Jungkook's cuff and tending to his own collar. "Jungkook's been in Europe too long he's saying some whack ass shit."

Hoseok chuckles, continuing to flip through his magazine. "I'm telling you, bro, Switzerland is fucking crazy."

"No, you guys. Two of me— she meant the rings— the wedding rings. You do— she meant saying I do. It's a wedding day. She must be here."  

"What," the man who finally looks up at his magazine cocks his head to the side. "Now you solve random riddles? What did they feed you in Brussels?"

Jungkook, without so little of a hesitation, gets out of the groom's room of the venue, running down the hallway to the grand venue of the warehouse of where the lights are all around, there are mistletoe hung, and all sorts of greens bringing color to the room. But what he was searching for was the most vibrant of it all— only to realize that he sees anyone but you.

And to himself, he scoffs, thinking of how foolish he could have been to actually believe a witch who possibly could not have been one in the first place.

The dress you wear is lace, from your sleeves to your shoulders. Usually, you'd complain about wearing sleeves on a wedding dress— hell, you'd complain about every little thing that isn't much an inconvenience just to piss your parents off for having a bratty daughter. From the wedding dress, to wedding makeup, to the bouquet, to the food— everything will seem just wrong to you— but having that certainty and approval to say no doesn't make you peep one dreadful word.

Admittedly, you liked the idea of having this wedding. It was like a trial run— and you didn't have to oblige to any commitment.

Your mother walks in on you as you had just put on a dress, hair curled, and light makeup— your mother looks at you so lovingly.

"You picked this dress out, huh?" You ask her and she scoffs.

"Only the best for my daughter," she smirks as she walks over to give you a hug. She wore a deep green dress paired with a fur shawl. "You look beautiful. Even if you're not actually getting married today."

To that, you laugh, shaking your head. "If I have to be a runaway bride, might as well look good doing it."

"That's the spirit," your mother smiles, taking one more look at you. "Are you alright?"

"Just preparing how to dramatically say I don't," you joke, earning a mood lightener in the air. "Is the wedding starting?"

Your mother nods. "Your father is waiting for you outside. Whenever you're ready."

It feels odd, truthfully. About to go marry someone you haven't even properly been introduced to yet, but you try not to think about it— because after all, you don't have to go through with it.  

As your arm is interlocked with your father's and you were holding red roses and ferns, you couldn't help but think that this was some sort of fairytale, only for one that you were going to run away from anyways. You think of this just as your father would— solely just business.

As you hear the wedding song play in the audible warehouse, you take a deep breath, your father, giving you a reassuring smile before he starts to take his steps.

Do brides normally feel queasy? No, what were you thinking— you're not actually a bride, and you're not actually going to be married.

Your reassurance in your head makes you feel calm until you're stopping at a spot from across the aisle, where everyone had stood from their seats, countless pairs of eyes staring at you, and only you. Time had froze, but that's not what's making you freeze altogether.

Because standing on the other aisle is Jungkook, the boy from the bus, the boy who went to Brussels who wanted to start anew, the boy who was so curious as to what your name was, the boy—

He was the boy he made you warm in the coldest of nights.

"You alright?" Your father whispers to you, snapping you out of your trance you realized you were in.

"Yes," you answer, eyes not tearing away from Jungkook's.

The person in the velvet suit, waiting for you is just as much in a shock as you are, eyes almost wide, and a look that almost seems like he's relieved to see you. As if he had found oxygen again.

From finally standing in front of him, to staring at him with surprised looks on your faces while the ceremony was taking place, to the very end, you had so many questions and had so many things to say, but couldn't. Instead, you stare at him, thinking what you could possibly say to him to be in this crazy coincidence.

"Do you, Jeon Jungkook, take ___ as your loving wife?"

"I do," he says, his eyebrows scrunching as that was his first time hearing your name. You almost want to snort out loud at how peculiar it is to first hear someone you've been dying to know's name at an alter— standing in front of you. And just immediately, it shakes you because just before, you were thinking of the many ways of how to say you don't, you're actually thinking of saying I do.

"Do you, ___, take Jeon Jungkook as your loving husband?"

The question, that you were so prepared to either say I don't or to runaway dramatically, was left in the air, as you pause. In that moment, you couldn't help but look at the crowd, expecting an answer that was almost obvious— but when looking at your mother for reassurance, she gives you this look and a shrug.

Only if you want to.

Eyes meeting back to Jungkook's chocolate ones, you take a deep breath.

"I do."

"Then Jungkook, you may now kiss the bride."

And there's this big grin you couldn't hide when you notice his little smug look before he's leaning in, recreating the night of when the lights were shining so bright and when just a single kiss could warm you up.

"___," he breathes your name out as if it were fresh air once he releases you from the kiss. "Not as dangerous as I thought."

You scoff, a smile growing. "Just you wait."

He gives you one more look before he kisses you once more, lifting you up from the ground. This time you kiss him harder, confused, yet grateful that this is how you two would meet again— right under your noses.

When he sets you down gently as a feather, he gives you one more look before you slowly both turn over to the crowd who were muted by the moment you had with Jungkook. There was clapping and there was screaming— and you don't even realize that Hyunjung crashes into you with the biggest hug.

"I'm sorry! I tried my best to divert your mom when she asked me if you were in London!" She says, nearly taking your life away as she squeezes you.

"It's fine, Hyunjung— just let me go," you beg, attempting to push her away. As she finally lets go, she gives you look from your eyes to the bottom of your dress.

"I didn't think you'd go through with it," she says, eyes almost tearing up. Rolling your eyes at her, you notice that your mother is walking up beside the nearly crying Hyunjung, an eyebrow raised.

"Neither did I," your mother intervenes. "Is it because he's good looking that you decided to say yes?"

Turning your head to look over at Jungkook who was being hugged and patted down by his groomsmen, you look back to your mother, a big smile painting your features.

"No, actually," you begin. "We know each other."

Your mother is surprised by your answer. "You do?"

"Yes," you smile, looking over at Jungkook. You don't tell her that he was the person who you were stuck with the whole day— the person who made you believe that you could actually live.

"I guess it all works out in the end, doesn't it?" Hearing your mother say that to Hyunjung, you smile to yourself before you're approaching Jungkook who had been waiting for you, and probably has been for awhile.

"I knew you'd be here."

"Really now?" You challenge.

"The day you see two of me is the day same day you say you do," he fluidly states causing you to open your moth amusedly. "A wedding day."

"So, you believe in witches now?"

"Not witches. But maybe just a little bit of magic," he laughs, before he grabs at your waist smoothly, guiding you down the aisle in which you both walk down it, the many people clapping for the newlyweds.

Once he reaches the end where the photographer was snapping pictures, he lets one hand rest at your waist and the other to cup your cheek. He's close, so tremendously close, that his lips only graze yours.

"___," he breathes out with a smirk. "I'm never going to stop saying your name."

And when he kisses you, you feel warm all over again.

[angelaiswriting]

Family Problems | Michael Gray

[Photo by Dominika Roseclay from Pexels]

✏️ Pairing: Michael Gray x wife!reader

✏️ Summary: She doesn’t want children: to Polly and the family, this is a problem. (Requested by anonymous)

✏️ A/N: this was so hard to write because I want plenty of kids, but hopefully, I did it justice! Also, hopefully this can be considered fluff.

✏️ Warnings: none I can think of

✏️ Word-count: 2,547

Consider supporting my work by sharing it 💛

The thought had been scary at first―what would Michael’s mother say? It was almost as though Y/N owed her a team of grandkids. Polly had been robbed of her own children, after all, and she had never seen them grow and mature―let alone die, when Michael’s sister left this world. It was almost a non-said knowledge: Mrs Elizabeth Gray wanted grandchildren, and Y/N had to comply.

The truth was, though, she didn’t want any―or, at least, she didn’t want kids of her own. Motherhood simply didn’t appeal to her―the hormones, the changes her body would have to go through, the mood swings, the cravings, the delivery… She had assisted Lizzie throughout her pregnancy; she had been by her side day in and day out―out of sheer friendship, that is―and her conviction had only become stronger the more the months passed.

She didn’t want kids of her own.

It had almost been a nightmare at first, to tell her husband―what will he think? What will he say? Will he leave me behind like I never meant anything to him? She knew he would love to become a father one day, to try and not be like the one he never got to know, and to not want something he so clearly desired almost felt selfish.

But he had understood. Adoption is always an option, he had said, hope clear in the tone of his voice and even in his eyes. She had nodded that day, coffee in one hand and cigarette in the other. She had nodded and she had smiled. Yes, she had told herself, adoption is an option.

It probably still was, but she never thought of it―it simply never came up. Between one thing and another, with what she did for the Shelby Company Ltd. and her own father’s shipping company down in London, there was never enough time to conjure up some thoughts and half-projects about a possible future parenthood. Whenever she turned around, she had her father’s numbers to revise, a Shelby meeting she had to attend to, Ada to help with the preparations of some mundane occasion to showcase the Shelbys’ benevolence. And above, below and around anything business-related, she had her own marriage and family to nurture and love and care about; a husband that never came home like he left it; acquired cousins that would come visit literally whenever; a mother-in-law always way too willing to help around the house with things that were clearly not her business.

That day was different, though.

Halloween had just passed. November had finally begun and was now more ready than ever to bring on new financial and economical agreements between her father’s company and some manufacturers on the other side of the channel. She had a trip to Paris scheduled for the second half of the month and another in Belgium at the beginning of December. Then, as Christmas rolled around, she could bid her wishes for the festivities and the new year to her father and colleagues, and retire in some hotel room Michael would take her to as a way to escape his family for a couple of days.

But it had been too good a month to be true―with his father’s business running smoothly and the Shelbys keeping to themselves and not bothering her―that something just had to go wrong. And south it went when that night Y/N came back home after work just to find Polly Gray sitting in her living room.

She didn’t boast a history of being a psychic, but she had felt the tense, almost irony air heaving down the atmosphere of the living room. And when her husband came over to kiss her on the lips like he usually did and offered her an unexpected glass of Shelby gin―not her favourite, but her father was helping his in-laws selling their alcohol so that had to do it until it was all gone―, she knew things were about to downhill―and then down a little more.

She should have known better than to hope, she told herself as she plastered a fake smile on her lips and sipped on her gin as she would poison. Her eyes were glaring at Michael, almost wishing they could be able to pry the truth out of him―his mother never came to visit unannounced, after all, she just couldn’t bring herself to like who her son had married―and all he could muster was an apologetic look before he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Sweet, soft lips against her cooling skin―it was something she usually loved. But right now, as her mother-in-law glanced up from her cup of tea and stared at her, she couldn’t help but wish Michael would just kick her out of their house so that they could discuss whatever matter in private.

“It’s quite late, isn’t it?”

Y/N knew what direction Polly was trying to take as soon as the words left her lips. She had already been accused of being an adulterer by her, after all, and despite the fact that the only opinion that mattered was her husband’s―who knew she only had eyes for him―, she couldn’t help but grit her teeth and down half of the content of her tumbler in the vain attempt to keep her mouth shut and her tongue behind gritted teeth.

“A woman quite like you shouldn’t work until this hour of the night.

“It’s okay, I was on my second job,” she grinned, eyes as cold as stone as Michael sighed against the side of her face, his lips still pressed to her left temple. “Sucking cocks,” she added with a wink, “I thought you knew. I had the feeling like you had walked down that lane back when you could have been considered young.”

There was a moment of silence, then, and the tension was so thick that even the blind could have cut through it with a sewing thread. And as the two women stared at each other, with Michael still hugging her wife’s waist with an arm and looking at the wall behind her hoping the torture would soon end, time seemed to dilate endlessly.

The logwood cracked and moaned in the fireplace and if one listened closely enough, one would hear the soft sounds coming from the kitchen and fighting for attention against the ticking of the huge pendulum clock at the end of the hall.

Then, before anyone had the time to say anything, Michael cleared his throat and turned around to face his mother.

It was clear on his face that he had spent the last two and a half hours conjuring up the courage to do this move―he should have probably followed through much earlier, shouldn’t have let his wife go through this.

“It’s time for you to leave, mum.”

Each and every word stung, pierced the air like arrows as Polly’s face fell and Y/N heaved a silent sigh, closing her eyes for a moment before allowing herself to finish her gin.

Polly didn’t stand and with all the calm in the world, Y/N spoke: “You heard my husband.”

‘Husband’ was a powerful word, or at least it had always been in the Grays’ house. While Polly had barely followed her husband’s orders while he had been alive, she knew Michael was different. Was it because of his more bourgeois upbringing or because of the time he had spent in America, nobody knew and probably nobody would ever be sure. The only certainty was, you had to obey when he gave an order. And while veiled under the pretence of courtesy, that was still the meaning behind his words.

“I thought we could have a chat before I left.”

Michael had changed―America had changed him and above that, Tommy had done the majority of the dirty work, moulding the young Mr Gray into a man you don’t want to mess with. If Polly could have got away with it in the past, she wasn’t this lucky anymore. “It’s time for you to leave,” he repeated, voice calm and words slow, calculated.

His mother was slow at standing from the burgundy couch imported from Italy, and Y/N stared with her breath caught in her lungs as the woman did what Michael had to order twice.

There could have been a billion and one things her mother-in-law could have wanted to talk about, but somehow she knew the topic would have been that. Children, motherhood, pregnancy, an army of tiny Grays swarming the streets of Birmingham―little did Polly know Michael had been planning to move to London as soon as this deal with New York City Tommy was working on was done and over.

We’ll be closer to your father, was the excuse he always adduced when Y/N asked him if he was sure. But the truth was, he wanted to leave his family behind his back―to forget anything and everything about them once and for all―or as much as he could while still keep on working for them from afar.

“I trust you know what to tell her.” When Polly spoke, standing almost toe-to-toe with her son, it was almost as though Y/N wasn’t truly there, but was a mere ghost, the reflection of something the older woman was forced to stand for the sake of everything she loved. “We have a place in this world and we should keep it.”

Her eyes set on him, Y/N saw her husband refrain himself from rolling his eyes as his right hand slipped into the front pocket of his trousers. She wondered whether she’d see him explode, yell in his mother’s face as he did back in June, over something she had already forgotten all about. It wasn’t like she cared about Polly, not if the kind of love her mother-in-law felt for her could be an indication of how she reciprocated―she was an annoying fly she would stand for the love of her husband, but nothing more, nothing less.

“I won’t settle for anything less, remember that, Michael,” she went on. “You’re a Gray, and half a Shelby. We are your family.”

*

It was only that night, lying in bed awake and avoiding the topic, that Y/N mustered up the guts to ask Michael what all that fuss had been about. Her initial plan had been to steer away from what she thought could be the matter and wait for her husband to prove her wrong, but hoping for a lie was worse than the sting the slap of the truth would leave behind.

“How did she find out?” She turned on her side under silky sheets and in the warmth of the room, she found herself shivering as chills crawled up her legs, pulling at her skin.

Michael was reading―he had recently got his eyes checked up and had been given a pair of glasses to wear any time he had to read. The polished surface of their tortoiseshell frames seemed to glint in the light of his bedside-table lamp as she looked up at him, breathed in the smoke of his cigarette.

When Tommy had started to fall sick with that persistent cough of his, she had stopped smoking. The cousin of a cousin had doomed his lungs with all the cigars he had smoked, back in Australia, and Y/N still remembered seeing his dead body while she had been there on holiday: she had turned eight just a few days later and the image had forever been impressed in her mind. She had never cared, never consciously thought about what could happen if you smoked too much, but Michael’s cousin had brought the memory back.

“One of the maids snitched,” he muttered, turning the page. He read a couple of lines, dragged another puff from his cig and extended his arm out to his right to let the ash fall into the ashtray. “Polly didn’t like it, came here to say she expects us to have at least three. To keep the business going, you know.” He smirked at her, handed her his cigarette but took it back when she shook her head no. “I fired the maid.”

“Why didn’t you send her away sooner?”

He shrugged. “I thought she’d change her mind when you talked to her, or that she could see it from our perspective.”

Y/N snorted, moving up on the bed and taking her husband’s book from his hands. A glance at the cover and she knew it was the thriller he had bought in Detroit two years ago. It almost made her chuckle, the fact that he still had to finish it when she had devoured it in a couple of days. It was one of the little things about him that she loved the most. “It’s your mother we’re talking about. Polly Gray never changes her mind.”

She stared as he chuckled, his head thrown back against the pillows as smoke left his lips and went up towards the ceiling. He was beautiful―and she found herself thinking about it for the thousandth time that week. His freckled, the line of his jaw, the tip of his nose and those lips of his stretched into a smile. And then, when he turned to look at her, the twinkle in his eyes, behind the lenses of his glasses.

If there was one thing she wanted to do right at that moment, it was to kiss him. Softly, almost worried she’d break him―or that she’d break herself.

“I don’t give a fuck about children.” And he was serious. He wanted them, that was for sure, but the way he’d come to have them held no importance to him. “Fuck my mother, fuck her family. I was treated like shit and what’s worse is that they’ve treated you like shit, too. To hell with their fucking name!”

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” She thought back to her life in America, when she had first met him. He had been displeased by how his family had sent him away, but they still held some kind of importance in his eyes; it was almost scary to see that feeling gone, now. “Not for me.”

“I love you,” he said, taking his glasses off his nose and put them down on his bedside table. “I’m married to you, not to them. They don’t get to dictate my life, nor yours. If you ever want a child of our own one day, I’ll be happy to give you one, but if you never will, I won’t force it upon you.”

There was silence―sweet, comfortable silence as he pulled her into him and she breathed him in―cigarette and smoke and the faint but still pleasant smell of his soap and eau de cologne. It meant more to her than anything else ever could and she found herself basking in her husband’s warmth, soaking in it until it was all that existed.

“I can’t wait to move to London, start anew,” she whispered against his neck after a while.

“London is just the first step.” He was drowsy, sleep was winning him over. “I plan on taking us as far away from my venomous family as I can.”

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[tongueincheekywrites-blog]

maybe one day the sun will shine again

Niall Horan fell in love with a girl named Annabelle. He got to call her Annie. Only very special people get to call her Annie. But now, as he sits on his bed alone in the dark, he reminisces in his past adventures with her. And remembers that now, he has to call her Annabelle again. 

Her name was Annabelle.

Niall remembers everything about her like he remembers warm ups on the piano.

She was blonde, radiant, bold, and beautiful.

Oh god was she beautiful.

Niall remembers the day his eyes first bestowed on her beauty.

---

Hyde Park. London. 12:33pm.

There she was, her white puffy skirt flowing as she twirled around in the grass, a smile of pure glee present on her face. No one around her, no one who could have caused that smile.

She was simply alone. And simply happy just from the sun shining, the birds chirping, and feeling the earth move under her feet.

And to Niall, that was infectious.

It was as if she was the sun.

With her radiant blonde hair, the shiny glow of her arms, and that smile...

It’s her smile, Niall thinks, that captivated him most of all.

It just screamed the pure essence of being happy without a care.

Maybe Niall could help bring that smile out in her more.

So he tried.

“Excuse me?”

Or he was going to. Before she got his attention first.

He turned. “Yes, miss?”

She giggled. And he tried to soothe the butterflies in his stomach, biting his lip.

“Why were you staring at me?”

Oh boy, he’s caught now. What’s he suppose to say? He barely knows the girl, how’s he supposed to not sound like a total creep, when all he’s thinking is oh you see, I was staring at you because well... I literally think you were born from the angels, with actually rays of sunshine in your soul. That’s why I was staring.

It is a better line than what a fuckboy might say on Tinder, but still! He can’t say that!

So he settled on something basic.

“Oh. Just thought you were pretty. Sorry.”

She huffed a laugh. “That’s boring.”

“Boring?”

He’s boring, for calling her pretty? Was it too typical? Should he have really gone with his poetic statement of her being equivalent to sunshine.

“How so?”

“Anyone can call me pretty. So that’s boring.”

She’s strong with her words, and just flat out speaks her mind. And he loved that. Loved that she had no filter. Didn’t feel like she needed one. Had that total ‘take me or leave me’ attitude. It was admirable.

“Well... I was going to compare you to being like the sun. But that’s kinda lame,” he laughed nervously.

“Comparing me to the sun because of my blonde hair is pretty basic.”

“That’s not why,” he immediately butts in.

“Oh?”

She’s curious now.

“It’s your smile. It glows. You smile just for yourself, just because you’re happy, and content just living. And to me, that’s beautiful.”

Hearing his words, she smiles so big. Like a thousand angels just came soaring in.

And Niall feels like he just won the fucking lottery.

She extends a hand for a shake. “That’s cheesy, but I like cheesy. I’m Annabelle. If you get lucky enough, maybe I’ll let you call me Annie.”

He laughs, not being able to get enough of her adorably confident attitude. “Alright, Miss Annabelle. I’m Niall.”

Shaking hands, he immediately notices how soft and velvety her skin is. Pretty sunshine smile, soft skin, boy Niall isn’t sure how much more he could take. His heart was practically beating out of his chest, and he could hear everything thump of it in his ears.

“You’re not from here are you?”

Niall blinked at her question, but then her realized something. Something odd, but oddly made him so, so happy.

She doesn’t know who he is.

There’s no expectations of him. He can just be him. He can finally try to be as free as she appears to be.

“Nope, I’m from Ireland.”

“Huh...” she trails on. What made you come to London?”

“For work.”

“Work?”

He’s nervous now. Maybe finding out what he does will suddenly spark a connection. But he can’t lie to her. Starting even a friendship, let alone a potential relationship, off with lying always ends in flames.

“I’m a singer.”

“Neat! You’ll have to sing for me sometime!” She winks.

And that was that. Maybe she did know who he was, and was just ignoring it or didn’t care. Or maybe she flat out just didn’t know.

Either way, he was excited.

Excited to finally see what it was like to be free like her.

And see what gets that smile across her face to really shine.

---

Four months later... Niall doesn’t want to say he’s in love.

But he’s pretty sure he is.

Niall doesn’t think he’s ever felt so goddamn happy in his life. Annabelle, well, now he gets to call her Annie.

So, Annie...

Oh Annie was something else.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn she was actually sent from heaven, and is here to bless the earth with just her smile alone.

Annie is a ballet dancer. Wanted to be ever since she saw The Nutcracker at age 3, so her paps--what she calls her dad--enrolled her right away, as a single father wanting to do whatever possible to make his little girl's dreams come true. Annie doesn’t have a mother. She was adopted from Belgium. She has a dual citizenship, and Niall thinks that’s pretty neat. Her favorite music is classical and jazz, so Niall ends up figuring out that’s probably why she had no idea who he was when they first met. But on their second date, she did end up admitting to googling him, which terrified him, until she said I like “Fool’s Gold” a lot! Very soft and sweet. And oh man, that made him so happy. Not just the fact she liked his favorite One Direction song, but the fact that she couldn’t give a damn if she was dating A-List celebrity Niall Horan, she liked the person, not the identity.

She was pretty damn perfect.

It was 6pm, and a knock was heard at Niall’s apartment door. He knew it would be Annie, knowing her rehearsals on Wednesday usually end at 6pm, but he couldn’t help but play with her a little bit.

“I’m not looking for any groupies, but thank you for stopping by. I appreciate you being a fan!” he says through the door, laughing a bit as she plays along too.

“Oh heavens! Niall James Horan just rejected me! How am I supposed to go on?! All I wanted to was tour with him in lingerie, and feed him chocolate covered strawberries. Just wait until TMZ hears about this!”

With that, he opens the door, looking down at her (she was a bit on the shorter side height wise) and plants a little, sweet kiss onto her forehead.

“Don’t need groupies when I got my little ray of sunshine right here.”

And there’s that smile once again, the smile Niall thinks he’ll never get sick off.

She steps inside, immediately throwing off her shoes and throwing herself onto the couch with a huff.

“Long day, love?” he sits on the cushion by her feet, lifting her legs and placing them over his lap as he sits.

“The longest. So. Many. Twirls. I think I’ll need to just cut off my toes for all the pain and blisters to go away.”

“Can’t be that bad. Here, let me see.”

He takes off her socks, revealing swollen, bruised, and blistered feet.

And okay...

It was that bad.

“Oh Annie...” he begins to rub her feet lovingly. Just the way she likes. “Maybe we should see a doctor, yeah?”

“No, no, no.” She immediately shakes her head. “They’re going to look at my feet and say ‘no more ballet’, which isn’t ever going to happen. I will dance until I’m old and grey, I promise you that.”

“Alright, alright,” he laughs, admiring how much love she has for what she does. But if it gets unbearable, you have to tell me, so we can go to the doctor, promise?”

She extends her pinky for him to take. “Pinky swear!”

He locks their pinkies, neither pulling away even after the official shake was made.

“What’s for dinner?” she asks.

“A very fine cuisine tonight. I call it ramen,” he replies, smiling as she giggles at his humor. He begins standing up to get everything for the meal together, before he is pulled by his pinky to the pained feet girl, who’s now pouting at him.

“What is it, Petal?”

He’s smirking. He knows what. But just loves seeing her get all flustered.

“You know what, Horan.”

“Not sure I do, Petal.”

The red in her cheeks gets even deeper. Not only because she’s flustered, but because he’s using that petname. Petal.

He remembers the first time he called her ‘Petal’, and how she swooned over it, stuttering a bit,  and unable to stand completely still.

So using it constantly, especially when teasing her, was pretty fun, he’ll admit.

“Niiiaaaalllll.... Stoooooop,” she urges, hiding her face in her hands, embarrassed. He laughs, putting his fingers through her hair comfortingly.

“Oh come on, Petal, don’t hide that pretty face from me. You gotta tell me what you want, otherwise how am I supposed to know?”

She puts her hands down and in her lap with a huff. “Kisses Niall! I want kisses!” she practically screams jokingly at him.

And with that, he ends the teasing and connects their lips together. She quickly puts her hands on the sides of his face, pulling him in even closer if possible. After a few long moments of their lips meshing together, he pulls away, the both smiling at one another.

“All you have to do is ask,” he says sweetly, before peppering her forehead, cheeks, and face in tiny little kisses.

She giggles loudly. “Okay! Okay! Go make food, I’m hungry.”

He stands straight up, bowing in front of her.

“Yes, your majesty.”

---

Five months later. 3:15am. Niall’s apartment.

Niall couldn’t sleep. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to sleep again.

Because she’s gone.

Annie... well, he can’t call her that anymore.

Annabelle...

Annabelle was gone.

---

It was a week ago.

She came home around midnight. Storming into Niall’s apartment, angry and teary eyed.

There was a recital. For Swan Lake. The production Annabelle’s wanted to be in since she was six. And she got the role, and he remembers her three months before, coming home and running into his arms, screaming how she got it and she was going to be Odette/Odile. And he was so proud, so proud of her glowing self and how thrilled she was at her own accomplishment.

And he promised to go.

It was on his calendar.

She reminded him everyday.

But he didn’t show up.

The one recital. The one show she had, of her proudest showcase yet, and he didn’t even bother to come see it.

So here she was, standing before him, angered and on the verge of tears.

He couldn’t blame her. He really couldn’t.

“You didn’t show up...” she says, the sparkly swan queen makeup being smeared as tears began to fall down her cheeks.

“I know, Petal, I know. But please let me explain and-”

“There was a seat all set front row for you. I had security out front waiting, in case things with fans got hectic. I kept waiting and waiting, kept making excuses in my head, like maybe you were running late because you ran into people who wanted a chat and a picture, or maybe traffic just sucked, but... you never came. At all.”

She was full on crying now, sitting on the couch, the same couch where he’d pepper her with kisses and make pinky promises with her.

She was now sitting on it.

Crying.

Because he broke a pinky promise.

A big pinky promise.

He slowly sits next to her, wanting to give her every right to be upset and let it out. He hesitates, before putting a hand on her back, rubbing it in slow, soothing circles. She may really not like him right now, but he knows it’s touch that soothed her when she’s upset.

After a few moments, he speaks up.

“I was on my way to show up. But before I could even leave to go, management was at my door.”

“W-What?”

She looks over to him, her face puffy and tear-stained.

“Yeah... even got you flowers,” he gestures to the pink roses on the table, all wrapped up in a gold bow. “Was going to give them to you after the show, and say my petal really bloomed today.

He lightly chuckles at his own remark, and she can’t help but chuckle too as tears continued to fall.

“But then...” he continues. “There was a knock on my door, and before I knew it management is telling me to stay home. I tried to argue and fight with them over it, but they weren’t bugging. Even blocked your number from my cell service so I wouldn’t call you, and try to secretly get there.”

“What the hell?” she’s stunned to say the least. How did they even find out about her? They’ve kept it very lowkey. Occasionally, there would be press about it, but very minimal. Why was it such a big deal anyway? Why couldn’t he go to one recital to support his girl?

“I don’t even know. But it gets worse.”

“It gets worse?”

He sighs. “They told me, publicly, I can’t keep dating you. But only publically. Privately I can do whatever I want, but publically, they’re making me date Lily Collins now.”

“I-I don’t... understand. Why can’t you publically date me? Why are they blocking us from each other? What’s wrong with me?” She’s crying again, and god does he really hate this.

“Petal, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. Never was, and never will be. They’re idiots. Always making us boys do the stupidest shit to try and boost our image. Don’t let Harry and Louis come out, wouldn’t let Zayn dye his hair when he was still in the band, and now they’re making me date Lily in the public. Wanting to try and keep us relevant.”

She rubs her hands over her face, smearing her makeup even more in the process.

There’s silence for a while as Annabelle processed this, taking it all in, and then, what she says next is the last thing Niall wanted to hear.

“I think we need to be over then.”

“What?” his eyes widen, because no, no, no. That’s not what he wanted. No, not at all.

“That’s too mentally exhausting for me, Niall. And talk about painful. I can’t watch you date a girl out on the streets, and then come home to me, while I stay in hiding as your secret girlfriend. It’d be too painful for me. I don’t want to go through that,” she looks at him with sadness, it’s not something she wants either.

Neither want it, but as it all processes, it’s decided it’s probably for the best.

“Okay. If that’s what you want.”

And that was that.

---

And now he can’t sleep.

Because his mind won’t turn off.

Won’t turn off all the thoughts and memories of her.

How she scrunches her nose when she shakes her head, how she loves writing poetry in art galleries, how she somehow manages to read dozens of books while dancing at rehearsals, how her brown eyes glimmered at him with the deepest kind of love the first time she saw him perform, how she just loves kisses, and being called Petal, and making pinky promises, and how her laugh fills a room with joy more than the best song in the world can.

And her smile.

Her sunshine smile.

How every time she showed that smile around him, he swore he could feel warmth actually radiating off of it and onto him. How no matter how shitty the day was, that smile would bring him back to a place of calm and simplicity.

How her smile was just quite literally sunshine.

How she, quite literally, was sunshine.

So he stands from his bed, rubbing his eyes, and walking over to get his guitar and sitting back down again.

He’s gotta get this out.

Just so he can sleep.

So, he began singing.

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping

I dreamed I held you in my arms

But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken

So I hung my head and I cried

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away

In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me

When I awake my poor heart pains

So when you come back and make me happy

I'll forgive you dear, I'll take all the blame

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away

And as he finishes the final note, tears streaming down his face, he thinks to himself.

Maybe...

Just maybe...

My sunshine will come back.

And love me again.

---

AN: sorry if the past tense/present tense changed too many times! I wrote this at 5AM and was very tired, but had to get this story out while the ideas were flowing! So yeah.... okay see ya! xx