#moreover people being able to jump from one universe to another

[estellaestella]

Waymond Wang being a decent human being in every universe. Ke Huy Quan in EVERYTHING, EVERYWHERE, ALL THE TIME, 2022.(quotes abridged because... you have to see it to understand it).

[theanimeview]

My Nitpick Issue with Sherlock in Moriarty the Patriot

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @pswediting​

It may surprise some of you to know that I have degrees in book reading and writing. While earning those degrees I studied one specific time period more than the others--that being British Literature from late-17th/18th century through the early 20th century. This is to say that it is a time period I know a little more about than you might think. And early 1900s is probably my favorite period out of that timeline, particularly England under Victoria’s rule. 

And, perhaps, because of this strange obsession I have with the period, I presently have a small bone to pick over Moriarty the Patriot. 

It’s not the minor inaccuracies of the clothes, nor the adaptation of character designs. It’s not even the adjustment to social tendencies depicted that are more Japanese than British-English of any period thus far either--because those kinds of things happen frequently in adaptations. And it's not Moriarty or his backstory too! Because, again, this is an adaptation, and liberties will be taken to fit the new story (besides, even in the original works by Doyle the man’s backstory was inconsistent). 

My issue is with the character of Sherlock and his supposed “deductions.” Well, maybe more accurately it's with the writing of Sherlock. 

You see, Sherlock is almost always introduced the same way in an adaptation. He makes a judgment about someone (usually about Watson or the Watson stand-in) and then proves it using his observational skills. This introduction is important because it clarifies that the world of the characters is one based on where common sense and science not only work but make sense. His deductions are logical and based on some semblance of rationality. Here is an excerpt from the original novel: 

“I knew you came from Afghanistan. From long habit the train of thoughts ran so swiftly through my mind, that I arrived at the conclusion without being conscious of intermediate steps. There were such steps, however. The train of reasoning ran, `Here is a gentleman of a medical type, but with the air of a military man. Clearly an army doctor, then. He has just come from the tropics, for his face is dark, and that is not the natural tint of his skin, for his wrists are fair. He has undergone hardship and sickness, as his haggard face says clearly. His left arm has been injured. He holds it in a stiff and unnatural manner. Where in the tropics could an English army doctor have seen much hardship and got his arm wounded? Clearly in Afghanistan.' 

How does this prove we are in a world where common sense and logic works? Well, because he didn’t pull any of these deductions from thin air. He just used his eyes and common knowledge to make a quick judgment. 

In the example above, everything that Sherlock assumes is true and based on reasonable assumptions about the time period and about what he can observe of the person before him. 

The tan of Watson’s skin is something he notes because London is usually dark and wet around this season, so you’re unlikely to get a tan. The way the man walks and stands is also a thing he can observe, and fresh military men walk very differently from the average citizen or gentleman. These two observations, coupled with noticeable injury and limp could lead one to think that maybe he has just come back from the current war (the First Anglo-Afghan War). Of course, maybe he wasn’t injured in the war at all--maybe something else happened; however, you can make a pretty good guess that an abled bodied soldier would not be home and looking for a room in the middle of war-times if something hadn’t happened to him on the battlefield.

My point is that all of Sherlock’s deductions come from observing details, paying attention to the basics of the world (such as the ongoing war or understanding rigor mortis), and using your senses. Sure, there may be a few things the average person doesn’t know that Sherlock does, but that’s because Sherlock has studied different things and to a more serious degree. The level of understanding is different, but not impossible to achieve in one’s own time or effort. And, as another note, Sherlock is not perfectly observant all of the time. There are plenty of examples of him needing to take breaks, of him closing his eyes to block out distractions so he can better focus on what someone is saying, and of him smoking to zone out for a bit so that he can come back to a problem with fresh eyes at a later time. 

It’s absolutely vital to Sherlock’s character, and the original story, that all of the deductions are based on the “possible,” which is why the introduction of Sherlock in Episode 6 of this adaptation immediately irritated me. Here is the scene:

Side note:  I’m sorry it’s shown as a poorly made gif--I literally could not find a copy of the clip with English subtitles on YouTube so I could not include it as a video. If you want to look at it in the episode itself, it starts at about the 13:00 minute mark. EPISODE LINK)

Here is what bothers me so much. Why would a mathematician be checking to see if the staircase on a ship fits the golden ratio? More importantly, why would that in any way matter to Moriarty as a character? Based on what we’ve seen so far of this character, and we’ve had 6 and 1/2 episodes to define him so far, none of Sherlock’s statement makes sense here. 

Like, at all. (And I know that this also happens in the manga--doesn’t make sense there either.)

You know what would make sense though? For the time period and the character development we’ve seen of Moriarty thus far? A pause to consider-- and maybe even compare--staircases on the ship between the main steps for passengers and the steps for commoners or staff. 

Why would that make sense? Oh, thank you so much for asking. Time to get real nerdy here for a minute: 

Class issues were a serious problem in Victorian England (as they are now, though in a different way). These issues were not necessarily the same as depicted in the show but it was still consistently present throughout the society as a whole. (A good, short read on the subject can be found here for those of you interested: Social Life in Victorian England.)

One way that this issue came out was in the very architecture of homes. In Victorian England, nobleman homes and estates were built with main staircases, where the residents and guests walked, and servent staircases, where the staff and other temporary employees walked. The difference in these stairs was huge, as the servant staircases were basically death traps. 

In the late 1800s, a mathematician (and architect) named Peter Nickolson figured out the exact measurements that would generally ensure a comfortable and easy walk upstairs: 

BTW: Here is a great video on the subject and how they were death traps: Staircases in Victorian England

However, Nickolson’s math and designs were not used regularly in the design of houses for years to come. 

By the setting of the story, and given Moriarty’s interest in maths, his understanding of class issues, and beyond--this kind of knowledge would make far more sense than searching for the golden ratio in a man-made set of stairs. 

Moreover, the golden ratio is generally interesting to mathematicians (to my understanding) because it can be seen in nature frequently. It is a pattern found everywhere, from the way that petals grow on flowers, to how seashells form, to freaking hurricane formations! So why on Earth would Moriarty be interested in an architect's choice to use such a ration when planning a staircase? 

He wouldn’t, I believe. Nor would Sherlock generally be able to make that assumption based on his time gazing at the staircase, distance from said staircase, nor angle. 

So what can he deduce, if not that? Well, he may be able to deduce that Moriarty is a nobleman based on his attire. He may also be able to deduce that the man is a student based on age, as in an earlier episode we were told he’s quite young to be teaching in university and appears close in age to his students. Maybe he’s a student of architecture? But, if he’s a nobleman--as we suspect he is based on his attire--then it's unlikely he works a labor-intensive job or one close to it. So, he must be in academia for academic reasons such as mathematics. Physics during that time, as an academic subject, focused more on lighting, heat, electricity, magnetism, and such. And, Sherlock notes that Moriarty is specifically looking at the stairs, not the lights of the ship. 

So, BAM! I’ve deduced Moriarty is a young nobleman who is likely a student of mathematics. Perhaps he’s recently had a lesson on staircases or another algebraic concept that’s caused him to pause with momentary interest. 

It makes a heck of a lot more sense than finding a “golden ratio” in a man-planned and man-made staircase... don’t you think? And, maybe, we can even deduce that rather than a student he’s a professor who has just thought up an interesting lesson--though that would be a BIG jump from the data we’ve been provided here. 

Deductions that come from major leaps in logic make it seem like Sherlock is doing magic... and he is--because it is magical that people find it impressive or believable. It’s not. And I would argue that the original character would find it insulting based on his comments to Watson regarding being compared to other fictional detectives.

Pay in mind, I have this feeling about several adaptations, so my judgment on Moriarty the Patriot isn’t technically exclusive. It just hit me so hard in my first viewing that I felt I needed to share because generally, this issue of deductions becoming magic rather than stemming from logic doesn’t happen in the first two minutes of meeting Sherlock Holmes.

So... yeah. Thanks for coming to my absurd history/lit lesson through Moriarty the Patriot. I appreciate you sticking with me to the end and hope it was enjoyable.

You can watch the series on Funimation.com right now at: https://www.funimation.com/shows/moriarty-the-patriot 

Overall, it’s a pretty good series; although there was a lot more child-murder than I expected...

[gamergirl929]

Sister Showdown (Becky Lynch x Reader)

Anonymous Request: Hello you could do a one shot of Becky X F reader, where the reader helps Becky in the invasion against Raw’s women - the reader is Ronda’s sister, and was dating Becky in secret. Moreover the reader is tired of always being in the shadow of his sister. Then challenge her (Ronda) to a match in which she wins the title of Raw and announces her relationship with Becky.

T.W.: Mentions of blood.

You remain hidden with the remainder of the Smackdown Women’s Division, watching Becky Lynch, your girlfriend, on the Titantron, the Dis-Arm-Her locked in on the Raw Women’s Champion and your sister, Ronda Rousey.  

Eventually, Becky makes her way out into the arena, her music blaring as she shouts insults at the Raw Women’s Roster from the ramp, it’s then you and your teammates strike.  

You’re in the ring in seconds, attacking anyone within arm’s length, Nia Jax, Tamina, Mickie James, Liv Morgan, Sarah Logan, Ruby Riott, whoever comes within distance gets a hit courtesy of yours truly.  

You let out a feral snarl when you see that Becky’s been busted open, blood pouring down her face at an alarming rate.  

The remainder of the Raw Women’s locker room pours out into the ring, Alicia Foxx, Dana Brooke and Bayley from what you can see, though the melee around you makes it hard to focus on everything going on.  

Ronda’s music hits and your eyes widen as you turn towards the ramp, body rigid as your sister runs down to the ring and slips inside, stopping when she comes face to face with you.  

“What the hell are you doing!?” She yells, though you remain silent, only staring back into her eyes, the same gray eyes you share.  

You’re moved out of the way when Becky comes barreling though, leaping onto Ronda, fists wildly flying.  

Eventually, the Raw Women’s Division is plowed through, courtesy of the Smackdown Women’s Division.  

Becky slips into the ring, chair in hand, but instead of using it herself, she smirks, holding the chair out to you.  

The WWE Universe screams loudly as your eyes lock with your favorite pair of dark brown orbs.  

You take the chair and the crowd erupts when you smack the chair into your sister, sending her sprawling.  

She looks up at you in disbelief, her eyes wide, but all you feel coursing through your veins is rage. You slam the chair into her again, and again until Becky and the rest of the Smackdown Women’s Division makes their exit.  

You slip out of the ring and rush towards the time keeper’s area, searching and finding a microphone.  

You bring it to your lips, snarling as you stare into the ring where your sister is trying her hardest to get to her feet.  

“I’m done living in your shadow.” You growl before throwing the microphone and heading into the audience, joining Becky at the top of the stairs that overlooks the arena.  

Blood is still pouring down her face as the two of you hold your arms up, Becky grinning where as you are glaring in the ring angrily at Ronda who is wearing a similar expression on her face.  

Becky glances at you and you nod before the two of you make your exit, following the rest of your teammates.  

Immediately when you’re out of sight of the camera’s you without any hesitation begin fussing over Becky, cupping her face as you scan her injuries.  

“Shit, are you alright?” Charlotte says as she approaches the two of you.  

“Come on let’s get you checked out.” You urge with a frown as you lead Becky through the arena towards the trainer’s room.  

                                                         ***

“I know you’re back there Y/N Rousey! Come down to this ring now!” Ronda screams into the microphone and you take a deep breath as you glance at Becky who’s standing beside you.  

“Ya don’t ave ta go out der.” Becky says, her accent thick and you shake your head.  

“I don’t have to, I need to.” Your eyes lock and Becky nods.  

“I’ll be back ere if ya need me, if she does anything funny...” She starts with a snarl and you smile.  

“You aren’t cleared to compete. I can deal with Ronda.” You say as you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to Becky’s lips before you turn and march through the backstage area.  

“GET OUT HERE Y/N!” Ronda screams, seconds later your music hits and you step out of the curtain, head held high as you move down the ramp, the WWE Universe cheering loudly as you slip into the ring.  

Boldly, you walk up to your sister and jerk the microphone out of her hand.  

The crowd ooo’s loudly and cheers as Ronda stares at you with wide eyes.  

“Don’t look at me like you’re so surprised.” You snark, the crowd cheering as Ronda looks at you, her confusion turning into a scowl.  

Ronda is handed another microphone and she shales her head.  

“Why did you do this? Why would you turn on me!? With Becky Lynch of all people!?” She shouts and you scoff.  

“At least Becky didn’t shove me aside on her way to become WWE Raw Women’s Champion.” You growl out. “At least she didn’t turn her back on me, at least she didn’t make me her shadow!” You shout, your sister’s eyes widening.  

“I never meant to make you my sha-  

You shake your head, holding your hand up.  

“Save it, you won’t eclipse me anymore. Becky Lynch may not be able to compete, BUT I CAN.” You scream and the WWE Universe screams, jumping to their feet.  

You step up into Ronda’s face, the two of you nose to nose.  

“You! Me! The Raw Women’s Championship! TONIGHT.” You scream and the stadium explodes while backstage the rest of the women’s division is watching the scene unfold with wide eyes, Becky’s eyes being the widest.  

Ronda’s eyes are cold as they lock with your own.  

“I accept.” She growls, throwing the microphone down and you grin cockily, taking a step back from Ronda.  

“Keep that title warm for me.” You wink, dropping the microphone before slipping out of the ring and head up the ramp.  

When you get up to the top of the ramp you grin, doing much like Ronda did when she came down the ramp at the Royal Rumble, though instead of pointing at the Wrestlemania sign, you point at her.  

Ronda glares up the ramp, holding the Raw title above her head and you smirk, your hands moving back and forth in front of your waist, stating that the title was about to be yours.  

You slip through the curtain, only to immediately be approached by Renee Young, cameraman on her heels and microphone in hand.  

“Y/N, your sister Ronda Rousey just agreed to a match tonight for the Raw Women’s Championship, what caused this recent tension between the two of you?” Renee asks and you sigh.  

“Ronda has always done everything she could to keep me out of the spotlight, I’ve always been in her shadow, let’s see how she likes it when she’s in mine.”  

And with that you walk away, searching the backstage area to find your girlfriend.  

Suddenly, you’re pulled into a nearby room by none other than your girlfriend, Becky Lynch, who’s staring at you, brown orbs wide.  

“Yer going for da title now!?” She asks and you shrug.  

“I mean, what better way to take a shot at her ego.” You smirk and Becky shakes her head.  

“I don’t like it Y/N... I don’t want her hurting ya.” She frowns.  

You take a step towards her before gently cupping her cheeks.  

“I won’t get hurt.” You whisper as you lean in, pressing a tender kiss to her lips.  

Becky’s hands tangle in the hair at the base of your neck and you sigh, your eyes fluttering shut.  

“Promise me Y/N, if ya think things are lookin’ bad, you’ll let me know.” Becky whispers against your lips and you nod.  

“I will, I know you and Ronda will eventually meet in the ring, but this is my fight.” You whisper and Becky nods, her lips pressing against your own again.  

Becky gently guides you backwards, her lips never leaving yours.  

You let out a groan when Becky’s tongue pushes passed your lips before swiping against your own.  

“Damn...” You sigh as you pull her closer, your tongue flicking at and teasing one another.  

You let out a hum as you pull back, Becky looking at you with dilated pupils, dark irises and a seductive smirk.  

“Maybe after yer match we could...” Becky shrugs suggestively and you roll your eyes as you playfully smack her chest.  

“You need to get better first.” You smile only for Becky to roll her eyes.  

“My fingers are just fine.” She winks and you can’t help but blush.  

“Shut up.” You grumble, earning a laugh from the Smackdown Women’s Champion.  

Becky takes a deep breath, her eyes locking with your own.  

“Are ya sure ya want ta do this?” She asks and you almost immediately nod.  

“I have to. I have to show everyone I’m not just Ronda’s sister.” You frown and Becky shakes her head.  

“Yer already more than dat, you’re Y/N... And I love ya.” Becky smiles and you beam as you lean in for a kiss.  

The kisses stay feather light and sweet, conveying each and everything you feel for one another.  

The two of you eventually part before Becky nods.  

“What do ya say we get ready for yer match?”  

                                                         ***

You bounce on your heels as the cheering crowd in the stadium waits for you beyond the curtain, waits for you to make your way down the ring for your match with your sister, Ronda Rousey.  

Your music fills the stadium and the crowd goes wild, cheering as you turn to Becky, who gives you a singular nod.  

Passing through the curtain and stepping into the stadium is a surreal feeling the crowd chanting your name as you march down the ramp.  

The second you’re in the ring you begin showboating, motioning to your waist where in your mind, the title will rest after this fight.  

Ronda’s music hits and you turn, your arms crossed across your chest as you stare up the ramp.  

Ronda comes out, her red and white usual gear on as she makes her way down the ramp, angry, but you can see hesitant, which she isn’t with her other opponents.  

In the ring, she does a little showboating as well, her eyes not leaving you as she hands the title to the ref.  

Before the ref can hold the title high, Becky’s music fills the stadium and you smirk, Ronda turning around with wide eyes to stare up the ramp at your girlfriend.  

Becky makes her way down to the ring, grabbing a chair and taking a seat, her brown orbs locked on you.  

You give her a nod before turning to Ronda, your face as hard as steel, your eyes piercing through Ronda’s.  

The ref looks at the two of you before hoisting the title in the air, the fans screaming as he passes it to someone and motions for the time keeper to ring the bell.  

The ding of the bell makes your heart race, you’d had what you wanted all along you had a match with your sister, THE Ronda Rousey.  

The two of you stand stock still, your eyes locking as you stare one another down.  

You begin circling one another, anger coursing through you as you and your sister inches closer to one another.  

Becky outside of the ring is watching the match intently, watching as you two lock hands and eventually Ronda gets you in a headlock.  

Becky is on the inch of her seat as you perform a reversal, driving your sister down into the mat and raining punches down on her.  

Becky can’t help but smirk proudly as the ref has to pull you off of the downed woman.  

You do a bit of cocky showboating as your sister moves to her feet and rushes you, getting you outside of the ring.  

From then on out Ronda has the upper hand, striking your torso, your face, anywhere she can get her hands on.  

Eventually the roles are reversed and you’re the one hitting shot after shot, until you see an opening and you take it.  

Becky jumps out of her seat as you climb up to the top rope and do a cross body, rolling through and lifting your sister into the air.  

The WWE Universe is on their feet, all chanting as you suplex THE Ronda Rousey over your head, before using your remaining strength to fall onto the mat and pull her arm between your legs, holding at an angle that has to be painful.  

You let out an angry scream, pulling Ronda’s arm higher as you wrap your legs around her upper body, keeping her in place.  

The submission goes on for what feels like forever, you letting out what Becky deems as a battle cry as your sister screams in pain.  

Suddenly, the crowd is erupting in cheers, on their feet throwing their hands in the air shouting YES! YES! YES! Over and over again.  

It’s then you realize, that Ronda Rousey had tapped out.  

THE Ronda Rousey had tapped out, to her sister, to her own submission.  

Your music hits as you throw your arms in the air, the ref handing you the title.  

You look down at it, leaning your forehead against the large ‘W’ on its surface before you hold it high above your head.  

The crowd screams as Becky slips in the ring, meanwhile, Ronda rolls out of it, clutching her arm as she stares at you angrily.  

You turn to Becky, tears in your eyes as you told the title, YOUR title, high above your head.  

Becky cups your cheeks, beaming as she swipes the tears away with the pads of her thumbs.  

Suddenly, she surges forwards, her lips slamming into yours, the fans screaming their excitement, while on the outside of the ring, Ronda watches with wide, surprised yet thoughtful eyes.  

You’re kissing Becky Lynch, you’re kissing her in front of your sister, in front of the WWE Superstars, in front of the WWE Universe, and in front of the world.  

You kiss Becky just as feverishly, eventually pulling back from the woman who gives you a massive, beaming smile.  

You lean your forehead against hers, bumping your nose playfully against hers and earning a raspy chuckle from the woman.  

Becky grabs your hand and holds your arms up, pointing at you as you hold the title high above your head, and in that moment, you couldn’t be any happier.  

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I hugely appreciate how educated you are with your education in the Classics (at either Oxford or Cambridge I think) but I ask with sincere respect how does any of it inform your privileged life in this day and age? It’s easy to say how much we should value our European traditions and heritage it is quite another to live it out don’t you agree? What do you personally get from it?

This is a very relevant question and I apologise if I have stalled in answering it as I was busy with work and life to formulate a worthy reply. But your question is an important one indeed for anyone who harkens to the past as a guide for the present and the future.

I won’t waste space here and tick box all the purely academic reasons why the Classical world is still relevant for us today. I think you can find that in easy to read books and articles written by eminent Classicists who do an admirable service in making the Classical World come alive for the general public (Mary Beard, Bettany Hughes, Emily Wilson, Edith Hall, Peter Jones, Bernard Knox, Robin Lane Fox, Paul Cartledge, and Donald Kagan amongst others that come to mind). But it’s an uphill battle to be sure.

Classics - at least in United Kingdom - has been regressively marginalised with each passing generation starting from school up to university entry. It has an image problem. Few pay much attention to scholars of Latin and Greek. The impression is that Classicists are snobbish and is the education of privileged elitists who master languages that are not spoken. They learn to write them only to read them better. They slap your hands when you write a Latin word common in Sallust or Livy, rather than in Cicero. There is some truth to that sadly. To a large extent Classicists themselves have not been a good advertisement for why anyone should appreciate let alone study the classical world.

At one end those educated in the Classics can come across as encouraging elitism, snobbish pedantry and a sniffy social superiority and at the other end those not versed in Classics but through Hollywood (any sword and sandal film like Gladiator etc) and PC white washed TV series (BBC’s Troy is a good example) have formed a romantic attachment to the ‘heroic’ past by having blue pilled themselves into escapism. Both extremes makes Classics a fetish rather than a guide for life through the beauty and power of the language and culture of the singular Greeks and Romans.

The study of Classics can become the proverbial dog who can dance on two legs, but for what practical purpose? There is the rub. Classics, at its best, offers the historical, philological, and literary foundation and discipline to apply a critical method to every general aspect of learning - and living.

I was fortunate that I had Classicists - both within my family and also my teachers - who were cultured and had led such interesting lives and were able to marry their Classicist mind to their life experiences (often through the experience of war). So learning European languages was not just to get one’s head around arid esoteric articles by 19th-century Frenchmen on the Athenian banking system or Demosthenes’ use of praeteritio and apophasis, but also to appreciate the genius of Dante,Voltaire and Goethe. Classics should never just be about philology though because it can result in a life mostly missed.

Perhaps others might call it privileged but I consider my childhood blessed because I was surrounded by family members who were educated in the Classics - more rare than one might suppose. Through my great aunts and grandmother they instilled the discipline that the mastery of Latin and Greek fuelled the ability to speak and write good English -- and why the latter mattered as much or more than the former.

By the time I left both Cambridge and Oxford behind, I could cite passage numbers in Greek texts of what Thucydides and Plutarch thought of Nicias. But it was only when I went through Sandhurst to pass out as a commissioned army officer did it truly jump off the page and become alive for me.

Moreover having had long fire side conversations with both my grandfather and father - both Oxbridge educated Classicists and both served in distant different types of wars as swashbuckling officers - did I use that learning to understand why for example was Nicias such a laughably mediocre general of the Peloponnesian War. And this was essentially the practical point of reading Thucydides and Plutarch about Nicias in the first place.

I spent many hours in my down time during my service in Afghanistan between missions re-reading dog earred favourite Classicist texts. I began to see the ghosts of the Greeks in the characters of those with whom I was serving. Some began to resemble Sophoclean characters - especially the less well-known ‘losers’ like Ajax and Philoctetes - the sort of tragic heroes whom we root for but the odds are against them - think of any American Western film or the more pathological Tarantino films. Like Sophocles I saw majestic characters (some special forces operators) out of place in a modernising world who would rather perish than change - but in a context where their sacrifice schools the lesser around them about what the old breed was about and what was being lost.

A running thread from a childhood spent in many other countries - from South Asia to the Far East - to the present day is learning to appreciate our landscape as the Ancient world did. The cultivation of curiosity of cultures was seeded in childhood. Respecting and even admiring other cultures - Indian, Iranian, Chinese and Japanese primarily come to mind - led me to appreciate and treasure my own cultural heritage and traditions. The DNA of both the Roman and Greek world went far and wide and so teasing out their fingerprints was fun. In northern Pakistan, we came across ‘Alexander’s children’ - children with blonde and blue eyes who were said to be descended from Alexander the Great’s time in Afghanistan and India - and wandering around the banks of the Jhelum river imagining how Alexander beat his respected foe (later ally) King Porus at the Battle of Hydaspes in 326BC.

These days despite having a busy corporate career I help support running a French vineyard managed foremost by two exceptional cousins and their French partners. As such the Classics still resonate in how I look at the land beyond the vineyard - bridges, roads, towers, walls  - and imagine the Greeks not with ink and papyrus but as men of action, farmers and hoplites, in a rough climate on poor soils. I suddenly envision them pruning and plowing in Laureion, the Oropos, and Acharnae, more like the rugged local farmers with whom come harvest time I roll my sleeves up and get my hands dirty in the vineyards than as the professors in elbow patches who had claimed them.

Knowing and learning about the Classical roots of our Western heritage isn’t just a question of culture it’s also about what personally motivates us in life and how that determines how we make consequential choices in life.

I live in fear of one Greek word  ‘akrasia’. Ancient Greek philosophers coined the term to explain the lack of motivation in life. Most of the philosophical conundrums explored by contemporary philosophers were already explored in Ancient Greece. In fact, Ancient Greek philosophers laid the solid foundation for all philosophical approaches that appeared throughout history: theories of Kant, Hegel or Nietzsche would never exist without Socrates, Plato or Aristotle.

Among the many problems that baffled the Ancient Greeks, one of them gets quite a lot of attention today. Why don’t we always do what’s best for us? Why do we abandon good decisions in favour of bad ones? Why can’t we follow through on our plans and ideas?

Many people would say that the answer is simply laziness or decision fatigue, but Ancient Greek philosophers believed that the problem lay much deeper, in human nature itself. ‘Akrasia’ describes a state of acting against one’s better judgement or a lack of will that prevents one from doing the right thing. Plato believed that akrasia is not an issue in itself, because people always choose the solution they think is the best for them, and sometimes it accidentally happens that they choose the bad solution because of poor judgement. On the other hand, Aristotle disagreed with this explanation and argued that the fault in the human process of reasoning is not responsible for akrasia. He believed that the answer lies in the human tendency to desire, which is often far stronger than reason.

As with almost all philosophical concepts, a consensus has never been reached and akrasia remains open to interpretation. But its practical consequences are all too real in today’s world. Motivation is what makes us unpredictable and persistent, and the life circumstances of the modern world often make motivation disappear.

Today - regardless how old or young one is - many are more and more tempted to exchange a long-term goal for an immediately available pleasure in all its forms from the emotional band aid of porn from a lifeless relationship (or a lack of one) to escaping loneliness for the false intimacy of social media friendship. The lack of motivation can cause us to reduce ourselves to someone else’s standards when we know we can be or do better. 

The Greeks felt that the way you think and feel about yourself, including your beliefs and expectations about what is possible for you, determines everything that happens to you. When you change the quality of your thinking, you change the quality of your life. I’ve been deeply influenced by Aristotle’s idea that virtue is a habit, something you practice and get better at, rather than something that comes naturally. “The control of the appetites by right reason,” is how he defined it. Another way to reframe this is to say, “Virtue is knowing what you really want,” and then building the intellectual, spiritual, and moral muscle to go after it.

To be cultured - as opposed to be merely educated - is how you put what you’ve learned to work in your own life, seeing the world around you more deeply because of the historical, literary, artistic and philosophical resonances that current experiences evoke. This is the privilege of being cultured. For me Classical stories come often to my mind, and some times provide guides to action (much as Plutarch intended his histories of famous men to be guides to morality and action). The classics then are a part of my mental toolset and the context I think with some of the time. I see that as the real blessing in my life.

Thanks for your question.

[rachelannc]

Gilmore Girls (Credit: Warner Brothers).

Call me late to the game, but I have joined the world of Stars Hollow and fallen in love with the girls we know as the Gilmore Girls, twenty years after it first debuted, and I’m not even mad about it.

Mind you, I had no intention of binging or even finishing the entire show, but as I casually watched one episode on Netflix and found how easily-digestible it was, one episode turned into three, and then it turned into every other day, and then it became a nightly ritual and, well, you know how it goes.

So grew my uncanny obsession with mother-daughter Lorelai and Rory Gilmore’s witty banter, exceptionally close relationship and charming small town, that I became so invested in their world and was able to finish the show in the two months I have returned and been quarantined in my own little small town. (A surprise for me, as someone who hardly ever watches or keeps up with a show, let alone ever binged a show. Seven seasons? Where do I even start, I thought?!)

Twenty years ago, I was just a seven-year-old girl listening to Hilary Duff and the Backstreet Boys while watching teeny-bopper shows and everything on the Disney Channel. I never really got into soapy teen dramas until (obviously) later in my life when I became a proper teenager.

My first reaction to watching Gilmore Girls? Wow. This Rory girl seems a lot like me.

Rory, the shy and introverted goody two-shoes and bookworm who loves school and always hangs out with her single mother and lives and grows up in a small town where everyone knows each other and loves her; and me, a girl who grew up in a town called Pleasant Hill. And if those Chilton uniforms didn’t remind me more of my own private school uniform? Ha, well I don’t really know what to say.

But really, the resemblances are uncanny and watching the show made me think: What would have happened if I had watched this as a girl growing up? Would I have handled situations with boys differently or treasured my girl time and female friendships a whole lot more, if I had seen Rory and Lorelai grow up, interact, and handle regular growing pains alongside me, as well?

As a first-time viewer, the writing and pacing of the show immediately stuck out. It’s incredibly quick and entertaining, witty through and through. I appreciate all of Lorelai’s references to eighties pop culture and Rory finding refuge in classic literature and the strong female characters and feminists I had so long been inspired by, too.

Moreover, it was incredibly comforting to find another person I could see myself reflected in, onscreen, growing up and making mistakes and always trying to do the right thing, but still staying true to who she was all along.

Her experience was so similar to how my adolescence had felt and been: my mom, who had given me all I ever needed to grow up, and me, just wanting to do right by her, was always responsible and loved at school, receiving attention from boys but never really ever cared for it because I was just happy reading a book or playing my guitar, ha.

And if that scene between Dean and Jess getting into a fight over Rory at a party couldn’t feel even more familiar to my high school days — when I was caught in a love triangle with boys who confessed their feelings to me on the same night, pressured me to make a decision, only for me to see their friendships fall apart right in front of me at school. Wow, that was high school in a nutshell, ha! And it was funny to see moments like that played back onscreen, happening to Rory as she had wished for none of it to happen, yet couldn’t really do anything about these boys’ feelings for her at the same time. (I feel you girl.)

The fact Rory wants to travel and pursue journalism as well couldn’t hit it home for me any more. Her university days reminded me of my own writing articles and chasing stories for my school newspaper. And when her and Paris wanted to experience “all the college experiences,” embarking on a cliche spring break trip trying to do “spring break right,” I couldn’t help but giggle as I found myself in college as well, very well knowing I am not the party type, but decided to get “all the college experience” as well, embarking on a Vegas trip with friends which, I do have to say, was a hell of a time.

There are so many moments from the show that have stuck with me, but here are a few memorable thoughts and moments I’ve had:

When Rory said, “I cannot do this alone. I need my mommy and damn it, I don’t care who knows it!” (s3 e13) I think she was speaking for all of us.

“I don’t want to be that kind of girl. That kind of girl who just falls apart because she doesn’t have a boyfriend.” (s1 e17) Yup. Yup, yup Rory. That was me.

Lane and the Kims and their lifelong friendship was just charming, and I couldn’t help but feel for the Asian best friend and strict mom who means well.

Rory and Paris and their ongoing escapades. Man, you can’t help but love them. Their spring break trip was all too relatable: Rory drinking and drunk-calling Dean for the first time and them doing spring break even if they never want to do it again because they realize they just aren’t the partying type. “It’s a college memory. I intend on having as many college memories as possible.” (s4 e17) Yeah, all too relatable. Ha.

Also Paris being that one friend we all know who is a little too much, too bossy, too aggressive, can turn people off but is also one of our very best friends? It was also incredible to see how their “hatred” (and Paris seeming to pop up everywhere Rory was, lol) turned into a real friendship over the years. I loved seeing that.

Rory’s graduation speech: “My mother never gave me any idea that I couldn’t do whatever I wanted to do or be whomever I wanted to be. She filled our house with love and fun and books and music, unflagging in her efforts to give me role models from Jane Austen to Eudora Welty to Patti Smith. As she guided me through these incredible eighteen years, I don’t know if she ever realized that the person I most wanted to be was her.” (s3 e22) That was a moment that made me just cry and tear up, for being a grateful kid myself, but also feeling just how mushy Lorelai must have been feeling as a mother, raising a good kid, all on her own. Ugh. 😭

Oh, Dean and Jess. They represent the boys we all meet and fall in love with when we’re young: Dean, the dependable boyfriend who is ready to give you everything, support you, be there for you, and may always love you even when you might take him for granted; and Jess, the said “bad boy” and mysterious romantic who leaves you hanging onto every single word that makes you fall head over heels for him, even if you know it might be bad for you.

When Rory has sex for the first time (s4 e22): It was such a big, telling, and coming-of-age moment. And you could feel that. I could feel and know exactly how she was feeling: how excited she was, how dumb it was, how one’s feelings get the best of you even when you normally think every action through and make reasons to justify it. God. I was also afraid to see how the show would handle the situation, especially Lorelai. I’m glad she was never quite overbearing to Rory and trusts her and lets her grow as her own individual, but I’m glad she put her foot down and told her how it was not okay for her to sleep with Dean, who was still a married man. #greatmothermoment

When Rory drops out of Yale and takes some time for herself:

I couldn’t have felt more seen. Going back home, bored at home all over again, finding things to preoccupy myself with until I got bored of it and wanted to move on to the next thing, because I genuinely wanted to… that feels very familiar. And it was heartwarming to see her have this moment and want it for herself. I know it may have been a controversial choice for many, but Rory’s quitting school let her evaluate her own choices, have the space and time to figure herself out — who she was beyond what everyone expects her to be — only to realize that she really does want to be a journalist. Her whole life had been predetermined by her surroundings, and we see just how hard of a worker she is, that to have this “slip-up” is actually the best thing she can do for herself — she realizes she can be and is responsible for her own actions. To experience that in college, rather than many years later down the road, is admirable.

And moreover, I appreciate how Lorelai handled the situation. She never forced Rory to do anything or made her feel bad about her decision. Rather, she let Rory have the space and time to want to go back to Yale and school to be a journalist. She realizes that no one can make that decision for her, but her. And I loved that. Another #greatmothermoment.

Even more so, when Jess surprisingly came back and tells her he’s written a book and reminds her that “this isn’t you,” (s6 e8) that moment almost broke my heart. It reminded me of a time I felt so lost myself and a boy who once knew me would be tough on me, because he cared for me and knew who I was and always have been, and wanted me to do “better” because I was better… I think we’ve all had those people who know us very well who tell us hard truths about ourselves. And we don’t really want to listen, but a part of us knows that maybe they’re actually right. 💔

I actually really liked Logan and Rory’s relationship and the sense of trust and maturity they had built since that infamous “You Jump, I Jack” life-and-death brigade episode (s5 e7). Beyond that, Rory and Logan were completely smitten with each other the whole time. They came from worlds that were incredibly similar, yet wanted to be different. I appreciate how Logan knew and acknowledged his privilege and mistakes. I appreciate how Rory made herself clear that she is a “relationship kind of girl” instead of an “every girl” and gets a boy like Logan to stop his ways. (If I had to be honest, I was never that kind of girl, either.) When they said they’d “factor each other in,” they showed ultimate support for each other. And it’s clear that they were each other’s biggest fans. (When Logan took Rory, Lorelai and Luke out for a Valentine’s Day weekend getaway? Wow.) It’s clear they have a lot of chemistry and fun together. And Logan’s smile to Rory. Ugh.

On Lorelai:

I thought Lolelai and Jason were actually kind of cute. A part of me wanted it to work out, but I knew it never would.

Oh man, I had a fat crush on Max Medina too.

I loved seeing Chris and Lorelai stick by each other throughout all those years, and actually try to make it work. He’s a good guy who means well, and it’s clear how comfortable they are with each other, but timing was never on their side.

The letter Lorelai wrote to Luke’s defense to have custody over his daughter legit brought me to tears. Luke really was there for Lorelai and saw Rory grow up. You can’t ever take that back. Ever. Ugh.

What happened between Lorelai and Chris was bound to happen, and I was actually so happy for Lorelai to be with him. I’m incredibly impressed at how the show was able to show such a raw, real and complicated feeling of never really being “in love,” so well.

Emily and Richard: what a hoot of grandparents. I loved all their comic banter. All those Friday night dinners and the show they always put on. Richard’s relationship with Rory was so warm and comforting, and Emily’s incessant complaining and nitpicking was great. But when Emily actually had a moment towards the end explaining to Lorelai how Lorelai was able to be a single mother, independent and all on her own, while she herself has always been a wife, not knowing how to be independent, couldn’t be a more self-aware moment.

After all of this, it’s incredibly refreshing to see a show like Gilmore Girls let its characters be who they are: wholeheartedly immature and charming, unabashedly flawed yet real. And while these characters could be problematic — Lorelai is at times immature and inappropriate, yet means well; her relationship with Rory may be too codependent that Rory ends up dropping everything to tend to her mom; Rory is part of an elite society that comes from wealth and privilege; Emily constantly hates on the help; etc.

As much as the above is true, it’s still inspiring to see how Lorelai and Rory take on — and maybe even take down — their given worlds. They bicker and laugh, whine and moan, lust, laze around and criticize, but they are also incredibly real. Just as we humans can often be short-sighted in our lives, Rory and Lorelai are too. Too often we are given female characters who are either a saint or a sinner, a wife or a girlfriend, a prude or a prostitute, that with Rory and Lorelai, we get both. I think we all are at times a little annoying, yet incredibly fascinating the next. And that’s probably what has made the Gilmore Girls so beloved and such a cult-classic since its debut in 2000: Its heroines are flawed, yet deeply human, just like us all.

https://twitter.com/rachelannc/status/1295641850913501185?s=20

https://twitter.com/rachelannc/status/1292361621071790091

Thoughts I Had While Watching Seven Seasons of ‘Gilmore Girls’ for the First Time, Ever Call me late to the game, but I have joined the world of Stars Hollow and fallen in love with the girls we know as the 

[ill-will-editions]

A New Call of the Wild: For a Political Ecology of the Unconstructible - Fréderic Neyrat (2019)

First published on Mediapart, July 2016. Translated by Ill Will Editions. 

"What kind of future do we want? The one in which we are forever confined to a planet until the final extinction, however far in the future this event may be, or do we want to be a multi-planetary species?" This question is not asked by a science fiction writer, but by Elon Musk, Silicon Valley's rising star, in January 2016 [1]. ‘Rising star’ is certainly an appropriate metaphor to describe the man who runs SpaceX, a US-based company specializing in astronautics and space flight. Musk prophesies the colonization of Mars in 2025: on this rescue planet, we will build an "autarkic city," and the human species, saved from the end of the world, will then be able to jump star-to-star, spreading new Silicon Valleys here and there, a galactic capitalism nourished by the energy abundance of the universe.

But SpaceX's space wings, like those of its rivals, are struggling to take off; they sometimes explode, like Virgin Galactic's SpaceShipTwo in 2014. In reality, interstellar colonization is a technologically challenging project, anything but a pleasure ride. What awaits future explorers is not a Garden full of wonderful Natives to plunder and slaughter, but the nothingness of lifeless worlds. Moreover, human bodies are more suited to the conditions of life on Earth, and struggle to cross the interstellar void. Our organic makeup is not that of an underwater diver,; we are a life-form in relation to our environment. Far from being a simple external environment, the environment constitutes our interiority, we ingest it and inhale it until our last breath. It is the discourse of ecology that has helped us understand that we are interrelated, dependent, much closer to "compost" than the "posthuman", as the North American theorist Donna Haraway says. Contrary to those who fantasize about extraterrestriality, our motto seems to be obvious: “Return to Earth!" Instead of having our heads in the stars, let us have our feet on the ground, and let us recognize that we are beings who, fundamentally, belong to a territory.

Belongings [appartenances], Earth, and territories are the practical foundations of an ecological thought that pits itself against the extra-territorial imaginary of astro-capitalists who seek to deny and transcend their environmental finitude. As such, every true ecologist is on the side of the struggle at Zone à Défendre [ZAD] in Notre-Dame-des-Landes against the proposed airport project, this dart thrower of ecocidal socialism. 

Yet we all know that the extreme right also seeks to "defend" territories and their "identity" from foreigners, refugees and nomads. If we wish to avoid assuming the posture of a mere defensive shield, territorial thinking must recognize that no individual in the world can be reduced to any kind of belonging: each individual is always more than his or her assigned identity (whether national or sexual). We are always more than the sum of our ties. This excess over all identity is not only reserved for human beings, it refers to the that share of wildness [la part sauvage] that every living being carries within itself. This wildness defies geocapitalism, and the Anthropocene economy that promises to "save" us from global warming by controlling the climate through the prowess of geo-engineering - all the while inviting us, in the event of misfortune, to colonize another planet. Nothing can contain this share of wildness within us, which challenges the waves of concrete that are constantly pouring into the world, allowing us to survive - as best we can - the disasters of technoscience (Chernobyl). It will certainly prevent incoherent take-offs to Mars, but it will not allow us to simply stay stuck on Earth: if having our heads in the stars is ecologically problematic, harboring an inaccessible star deep inside our being is an indispensable condition of the policy that says no to geocapitalism.

More than a temporarily abandoned or poorly domesticated natural domain, the wild is the uncivilizable by definition, which irremediably deviates from any norm, which escapes any construction or economic appropriation, and declares itself to be ferociously unconstructible. Far from being oriented towards progress and the future, the unconstructible dimension is the affirmation in the present of what is elusive in our lives, the affirmation of an unknown distance at the very heart of our bonds. It is in the name of this unconstructibility, of this bottomless obscurity from which every free act springs, that a political ecology can refuse everything that makes our lives impossible.

***

[1] “Elon Musk: SpaceX wants to send people to Mars by 2025,″ CNN, Jan 30, 2016.

[elencelebrindal]

Saint Seiya - Legend Of Sanctuary

Ok, I need to rant a little bit about this. This movie, as amazing as it looked, could have been way better than it is. 

And the worst thing is, it started off really well!

The opening scene with the fight between Aiolos, Shura and Saga was absolutely amazing, captivating even. A perfect way to introduce the story, instead of jumping straight to the present day like the Classic Series does. 

Arles then appears, and the visuals of Athena’s colossus are stunning, but when the Bronze Saints are introduced... well, I have to say I was disappointed in how they decided to represent the Cloths.  On their own, all the Cloths are amazing. But, if you ask me about them while keeping them in the Saint Seiya universe, I can only say they were wrong. Instead of, I don’t know, sacred and whatnot, the seemed technological, much more like the Steel Saints from the 80′s series. The same goes for the Gold Cloths, with the added damage of being so damn full of stuff it’s too much for one armor. 

Looks aside, we then get to know their personalities, and to me they seemed a bit... off. I don’t know, but I had a hard time recognizing Seiya & co as the characters I loved in the original. They were weird.  Seiya, especially, was a damn dumbass, and I hated him. I already don’t like his character a whole lot, being full of bullshit and protagonist luck more than actual skill, but this made everything worse for me. 

Then, Phtolemy (listen, I don’t know how to call this excuse of a man, in Italy he has a different name so I hope I got it right) appeared out of nowhere with a friggin crossbow and shot Athena, who is fine?! I mean, yeah, we then learn it was a mean for Saga to get her cosmos (a bullshit on its own), but come on!  Thank goodness for Ikki, the only character who I genuinely loved from start to finish (ok, maybe Shiryu gets the silver medal, but whatever).

And now, everyone off to the Sanctuary, that is some floating stuff coming straight from a crossover between Marvel’s Asgard, futuristic architecture, ancient architecture and egyptian references.  What a mess. What a horrible mess.  Again, on its own, the Sanctuary is amazing. The visuals are perfect, the idea fascinating, but my goodness it’s so wrong in this context!

You don’t understand how happy that scene with Shiryu talking and no one listening made me, a little bit of good humor in this movie after Seiya acting like an idiot. 

And now, onto the 12 Temples.  Aries, the first one, met my expectations. I didn’t like how they designed Mu, but I enjoyed every second of this part. They got his character right, they got Shiryu knowing him right, and that’s enough for me.  Taurus, the second. I absolutely loved it. Aldebaran had an amazing personality, which they got right from the original series, and the fight scene was really good. I don’t like Seiya, but what’s there is there.  They straight up avoided Gemini’s Temple, so... that’s a strike for me. Cancer. My god, Cancer. I don’t even know how I felt during that. They took one of the best bastards of the Sanctuary and turned him into... a singing diva with murderous tendencies? Yeah, no. Cool, but not for him. Moreover, the Italian dub of the movie added another pearl to the string of irony, with his voice actor being the same one who voices Mr. Crab (a crab, got it?). I cringed so much during that part, I was grateful for Shiryu to the point of tears.  Aquarius, because for whatever damn reason, the order got completely ignored. But fine, this was the best of them all. The characters were perfect, the fight scene was cool, and I only felt bad for how little screen time Camus received. All in all, a good part. Leo started as a good one, but then got lost in whatever plot device they chose to have Shaka intervene instead of him being faithful to the Grand Pope’s orders like he should have been. Visuals and fight scene get a 10/10 from me, but that’s it.  We didn’t get to see two Temples after this, so straight to the Scorpio Temple. Only for Seiya and Shun to be yeeted away to the next house, because apparently Milo (who for some reason is a woman but fine, at this point I don’t care, and besides she was good for being wrong) hates people ruining her Temple. I loved her fighting style, the Scarlett Needle was the best part of this movie I swear.  But yeah, the Sagittarius Temple is perfect for Shura too, right? Another Temple we’re not going to see, since Capricorn decided to fight there. No reason explained. But, oh well, Excalibur wasn’t bad.  Ikki’s entrance best arrival of the century? Hell yeah. Too bad he gets wrecked by Shura three seconds later. 

And what happens during all this?  Athena, who’s still able to use her cosmos, saves the situation and BOOM, everyone is happy and an ally after five seconds of talking. What a miracle. 

And let me tell you, poor Aphrodite. He gets less than a minute of screentime (and how many? 16 words spoken in the Italian dub) before being sent to the Shadow Realm Another Dimension. That was the worst, for me. He deserved so much better than that crap and less than a pained word for him from Mu. So. Much. Better. He was one of the best designed Saints too! 

At this point, the story only felt rushed. There was no logic anymore, no sense of plot, nothing.  Arles revealed himself as Saga (oh what a surprise), and... what? I mean, up to him wrecking Seiya I followed, but after? What the hell was that? What the hell was everything that happened!? And, on top of that, why in the Seven Hells would the Sagittarius Cloth work like that on Seiya, but normally on Aiolos? It made no fucking sense! None!

But yeah, Seiya saves the day because why do you even need the other Saints when you’re the most bullshitted protagonist out there, and the movie ends with Athena giving a speech? And a hidden scene of her birthday party?

I was so done with this movie.  Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t hate it. Taken on its own, it’s good. The problem is, this movie cannot be taken on its own.  You need background knowledge to understand what’s happening with the plot, and that background knowledge is what ruins everything. You can’t make a movie that requires you to know about the original series, only to take the original series and warp it in every which way possible. 

Anyways, kudos to designers and animators, they’re the real heroes out there.  Maybe I’ll rant more specifically on the Cloths on another day, maybe I won’t. But I needed to get this out of my system.  Really needed to. 

[xiuhnny]

a montage of love / mark lee

genre: college!au, acquaintances to lovers!au, slow burn, fluff, a lot more angst than anticipated

pairing: mark lee/female reader

word count: 26.5k jesus christ

warning: alcohol and drug abuse, explicit language, suggestiveness, a bit of heart-wrenching angst

summary: High school was a time in your life you didn’t like to think about, especially when the present days were the best ones you had ever lived. But when Mark Lee shows up in the form of blast from the past, you’re left with emotions you never planned on experiencing.

author’s note: i’ve been working on this for almost a year. amid the mess that is my life, i poured my heart and soul into this project, which is the first official piece of writing i do for the kpop community. it has taken longer than i expected, and i apologise to everyone who had been waiting for this to be published since i posted the preview quite some time ago. however, it is here! i’ll never be the person who can put out a short story because my need to go into fully specific details about every single thing is stronger than anything else. pleathe be mindful of the fact that this is fiction and i dont think any character in this work resembles their real life counterpart besides their physical appearance. also, i’m aware that i mix british terms with american ones, mind you that i’m neither so bear with me for a sec lol

High school was a time you weren’t particularly fond of. 

It was just a clustered mess of stillness-infused events happening one after the other, never having anything really good coming out of it. It was either neutral or downright disastrous and embarrassing, so sometimes you pretended it either didn’t exist or it was a foggy, distant memory in the back of your mind. 

Everything had been just plain, normal, detached, never good enough to think of it fondly.

You supposed being the new kid was probably one of the causes that made your attempts at fitting in with the others fail miserably. The people you hung out with were the type of people you knew your friendship wouldn’t stretch further than the last day of high school: you relied on each other for convenience. That didn’t hurt you at all because it was something you did too. And it wasn’t like you were the best version of yourself back then. 

The best came when you entered college.

The college you was the person you had always dreamed to be. Liked by people who genuinely cared for you and your wellbeing, with whom you shared good and bad moments. Carefree in the sense that you were no longer afraid of sharing your opinions and being yourself yet carrying all the same struggles every other college student did. This was your peak. You were at the top of your game in every aspect possible. And even if you were still flawed, like you would always be, the life you lead was still worth it.

However, not everyone shared the same path as you. Some people just had it all since the beginning: they were consistent in the way they presented themselves to other people throughout the years, and consequently that in itself appeased the masses no matter the environment they inserted themselves into. It didn’t help at all if they were truly nice people, which was the case.

You weren’t sure why the fact that Mark Lee was as loved — if not even more — in college as he was in high school surprised you, but the truth was, it did. 

Going through a blast from the past was something you were expecting, seeing people from your old school navigating through the halls of a place you really liked became second nature. You saw Sicheng every once in a while, the Chinese guy you had to become acquainted because both of you had transferred to your high school closely after each other. You saw Dahyun who was from your Math class though you never really made an effort to be friends, neither did she. You saw a variety of faces with whom you had shared tiny speckles of basic interaction.

But Mark Lee wasn’t just any person. 

Mark Lee was the cool guy who looked like he had everything without even trying or working hard for it. He had reliable friends, good looks, good grades, recognition and respect from pretty much everyone surrounding him. You were sure there wasn’t a soul capable of hating or so much as even having hard or negative feelings towards him. And rightfully so, for while Mark looked like someone who breezed through life without a scratch, he was severely passionate and strived hard for good results on whatever he put his mind in to. To top it off, he had luck on his side.

You couldn’t hate the guy, you’d give him that. He was too much of a good person.

It was nearly the end of the first semester of your second year of college when you saw him for the first time after you had ended your senior year of high school. With Mark being younger than you by one year, you had been swept away out of that hellhole before him. But as luck would have it, you were back to sharing an education facility. Not that it bothered you that much, except you had to be shocked not only by his presence, yet also by the happenstance he was talking to one of your best friends with whom you were supposed to meet up fifteen minutes ago.

You were the one who was late, of course. So many years had gone by and you still weren’t able to be on time whatever the circumstance was. And when you tried to be responsible and leave your dorm early, the universe seemed to be against you. It remained a mystery why public transportation would fail you on only those specific times. 

At that moment, being late was the least of your worries, because there, in front of you, stood two people who represented completely different times of your life colliding with one another, while you watched in the sidelines and wondered why something like this was even happening to you.

 It truly felt weird to you seeing the out-of-reach Mark interacting with completely-approachable Jungwoo. 

Pursuing a friendship with one of the school’s most popular people did not charm you in any way back then. You thought about it sometimes, what would happen if you were to befriend Mark, or his best friends Donghyuck and Yeri, but reality brought you back before your imagination pulled you in too deeply. Besides that, you were never interested enough in that kind of people, the ones who seemed like they were known by everyone and their mothers. The difference between you and them was ghastly, bound to never work out.

“___!” A voice shook you out of your memory lane themed thoughts, your eyes blinking into focus to the image of the two boys now looking at you, one with sheer happiness to see you and the other surprised. For what reason you couldn’t decipher why. He had always been like that. Not that you had paid Mark Lee too much attention in high school. It was just inevitable once in a while to look over to where he was sitting and analyse his behaviour for a tiny bit. You had that habit.

“Hey, Zeus,” You smiled softly, “Sorry for making you wait. Traffic sucked balls.”

Jungwoo rolls his eyes, clearly sensing your politeness had a reason. You had stopped apologising for being late after the first ten times. “Don’t even bother, you talk like I’m not used to it. Oh!” He seems to remember something by the way his eyes jump a little, and then he looks to his left where Mark Lee is, for a fraction of a second before looking back at you again, “That’s right. How rude of me. Remember that guy I told you about named Lucas? The one who is Kun’s cousin?”

“Tall, loud boy?” 

“That’s the one.” He grinned, “This is his friend, Mark. We’re heading together to Lucas’s. They invited me over for a game night! How cool is that, uh?”

“Very.” You deadpanned, completely averting the fact Jungwoo was introducing Mark to you. He would have a field day if he knew you knew who Mark was. Because there was no way in hell Mark would know who you were. Moreover, you couldn’t believe he asked you to meet up just because of a measly textbook which you could have handed to him another time. You were still going to meet up with other friends, but the fact you had to take a last-minute detour when you were already late to your original plans stung just a bit. “Here’s the book, by the way.”

“Thanks, you’re a gem.” The sad thing about your best friend was that he knew you couldn’t resist how cute he acted. It worked every single time, including this one. “Why don’t you come over too? If Mark doesn’t mind, that is.”

Mark immediately becomes flustered, eyes widening as if he’d just heard wrong, but you beat him before he can even utter a word in response, which could destroy your nonchalant façade, “Thanks, but I already have plans. The girls and I are actually sleeping over at Eunwoo’s today, and we’re going to the movies in about…” You take your phone out of your pocket to check, the numbers that stared back at you zipping you back into full awareness that you should probably leave if you wanted to make it on time. “Half an hour. We’re watching Venom.” There’s a strange heaviness in your chest making it hard for you to breathe. Being the centre of Mark’s attention felt so alien to you, so unreal and wildly unimaginable. “And I’m sure Lucas and his friend wouldn’t really be comfortable with having a stranger in their home.” You laugh at the end to soften the truth behind your words. 

As fun as it is meeting new people, bringing them unannounced in the last minute was never recommended, and it could seriously deflate the comfort in those who were present. Jungwoo had good intentions, but that’s all it was.

(You’re not a stranger, Mark thinks, I’ve had a crush on you for embarrassingly too long.)

“That’s a pity, really.” Your best friend pouts adorably, and you chastise yourself inwardly before you changed your mind, “Let’s set up something as soon as possible, though. I feel like we all will get along well if we get the chance.”

His determined enthusiasm was cute, almost contagious if you willed yourself to let your guard down. You’d let him get away with it this one time.

“Of course! Just let us know when and where, and we’ll be there.”

Mark goes back to looking like he could be feeling every type of emotion possible, chewing on his lip with his eyes unreadably stoic, and the three of you part ways at the school’s garden but not without the thought of how well Mark had grown between the last time you saw him and now infiltrating and contaminating your brain. 

Turned out Jungwoo’s ASAP was earlier than you would have ever imagined. 

Actually, if things had gone according to the way you had planned, he would forget about the whole ordeal and you would go on with your merry little way without any unfortunate recollection lurking around and probing into your life. You truly didn’t feel the need to meet many new people; everything was already perfect as it was, so why would you even ask for more?

Clearly, your best friend thought otherwise, seeing how seriously he had taken those words, and in the following week, prompted everyone to hang out at his place a Thursday night after classes ended. Much to your surprise, most of your friends seemed okay with it.

Vernon and Kino were just ecstatic over the prospect of meeting and chilling with new people since their social circle was always willing to expand no matter who tried to come in. Eunseo already spent most of her time in Jungwoo’s house to load off of his Netflix subscription and free food so having three or four more people coming over didn’t bother her at all as long as she had her spot on the couch. Yeeun and Eunwoo seized every moment Eunseo wasn’t home to suck each other’s faces off and do God knows what.

And you… Well. You wouldn’t normally mind under other circumstances, really. It wasn’t like you were actively seeking other friendships per se, but you also didn’t avoid them. So you decided that you weren’t going to scheme your way out of a meeting where half of the people there were people you cared about. Mark made you feel a tad uncomfortable because he was someone you had never thought of interacting so closely with — and by interacting you meant standing within a few metres radius while you looked at Jungwoo’s totally unnecessary yet nonetheless appreciated large 4K TV. 

What were you supposed to do? Confide in someone about it?

It felt overall illogical to tell one of your best friends about the issue, especially when you knew they would say you were blowing things out of proportion. You could already imagine Eunseo saying something along the lines of ‘High school is shitty for everyone’ and Kino agreeing with a stern look that totally said ‘Just because you had a hard time it doesn’t mean you can project those feelings onto people who don’t deserve it’ because Kino was just the kind of introspective person who would lecture you about how to detach yourself from the problematic behavioural ways you possessed. And you would do nothing but stay quiet, because the truth was, whatever words they deemed fit to tell you were going to be true. Furthermore, you knew you had no reasonable explanation as to why you clamped shut every time someone from your past popped up in your line of view. It just happened. Like the invisible string you had around you tightened every single time, and stupidly, you just let it happen. It was wearing you out little by little.

So for today, you were going to suck it up a little for everyone’s sake and relax around a person whose presence felt so foreign and unreal.

The walk to Jungwoo’s was filled with a 00’s hits playlist blasting through your earpods as a way to let yourself loose and calm down your stupid nerves, your steps matching the beat of whichever song came on shuffle. This whole situation was affecting you so absurdly that for the first time in a really long time you had left the confines of your dorm room earlier than you were used to, so you could get to your destination on time, if not before what had been scheduled. Arriving late meant everyone’s attention would be on you as you awkwardly waved to everyone, and you weren’t really in the mood to be the centre of attention to people you weren’t close to. You would fling yourself from the nearest window if you had to go through what happened when you saw Mark, having his gaze burn uncomfortable holes along every single visible surface of your body. Being fashionably late was not on your plans. Not today.

“Uh,” You should’ve guessed Jungwoo was going to be confused when he saw you standing on the other side of his front door at 19:45, your backpack slung over your shoulders and your university hoodie almost covering you entirely because of how large it was, “___… You’re early.”

You snort, “Yeah, I like to keep you guys on your feet from time to time so you never underestimate me.”

He lets you in with a scratch on the nape of his neck, and when you glance around expecting to see the entire expanse of his lengthy living room littered with known and unknown faces, you’re faced with only Eunseo sitting on the sofa with her computer perched on her crossed legs, face too close to the screen as she typed away.

“Wait,” You frown, craning your neck so his kitchen was visible to you, “Why isn’t everyone here? Am I too early?”

Eunseo suddenly chokes, looking up from the screen, “___! What are you doing here?”

“Don’t tell me you guys…” Trailing off your words, you begin glaring at your friends with a hand perched on your hip indignantly, “You guys… Wow! What time did you guys plan with the others? Let me guess—”

“Before you strangle me to death,” Jungwoo raises his hands over his shoulders in surrender, “We never thought you’d be here so early!”

“I don’t even remember the last time you were on time, ___,” Eunseo is pouting exaggeratedly, pleading her case alongside the other traitor in the room, “We just didn’t want the other dudes to have that first impression of you.”

As much as it pained you to confess, they had a point. If you were planning on actually appearing somewhat likable to these other people you didn’t know, several measures had to be taken. Even if deep down you felt stingy about it — about how your mind seemed to only focus on the fact that they probably had done something like that several times — you understood it. Time was precious, and some could even interpret your lateness as valuing your time more preciously than theirs, which wasn’t really the case because you never did it maliciously. It truly felt like it was apart of your nature, being like that.

“I thought it was one fake bitch in this house, but there’s two.” You sniffle dramatically before going into the kitchen to fetch food to eat in the meantime.

Jungwoo fist-bumped the air in victory. Something was up, he was pretty sure.

Until now things had been going amazingly well, as always. Having Kino, Jungwoo, Vernon, and Eunseo together inside the same place was as familiar to you as the way you recognised yourself in the mirror, so the inside jokes and jabs you threw at everyone were comfortable, homely even.

You were peeking into Eunseo’s laptop with your head against her shoulder, your glasses perched on the bridge of your nose to top off your lazy outfit of the day as you proofread the essay she had been working on for the past three days when the doorbell rang and your attention diverted. 

It was incredible how you heard Loud Boy before you could even see him or whoever was accompanying him. A cacophonous, high-pitched symphony of unintelligible screams filled the whole vicinity, Jungwoo’s softer voice practically muffled underneath it all.

“Well,” Eunseo closed the lid of her laptop before putting it back inside her bag, shrugging, “I was expecting this.”

“I don’t even know why you brought it with you, this is supposed to be a chill night,” Vernon quipped from his spot on the floor, the deafening sound coming closer and closer until it was blaring ridiculously loud in your eyes, “Oh, there they are!”

You weren’t sure why you were expecting not to see Mark amongst the other two unknown faces, yet alas, there he was indeed. Looking like a Sim waiting for instructions, stoic with his bugged-out eyes absorbing his surroundings until they land on you. And then he just observes you like he’s trying to make a point you’re unaware of coming across, just until the messy reunion between the other guys dies down. An intense stare-down between the both of you that ends with you averting your gaze not even five seconds later because you’re a little bitch when it comes to eye contact. You swore you would rather gauge your eyeballs out rather than stare at someone for a really long time, and if that someone was Mark Lee, even five seconds was too long.

Lucas, the boy you had coined as Loud Boy, was just as handsome as he was extroverted. The way he carried himself and the atmosphere around him left you with a good impression of him, just like the other boy who was next to him. Minhyuk — “Call me Rocky,” he said, like the discrepancy between his real name and his nickname wasn’t that big — looked like he was a fun person to be around by the way he reacted pertinently to everything that happened. Mark, however, waved at both of you and Eunseo with what looked like a strained, forced smile, a stark contrast to the ease he seemed to exude when he did those weird handshake guys always did, despite the fact it was the first time he had interacted with either Kino or Vernon.

The way Eunseo gripped your hand tightly against hers when the boys fell into a never-ending conversation about the most recent PlayStation 4 games was a foreteller that tonight was going to drag through painfully slow, the emerging testosterone spreading through the air as the themes of their talk rarely strayed too far from gaming. Which wasn’t normally something you would find so boring if it was just your group of friends talking about it. Because Eunseo and you also played, avidly, as a matter of fact, so the fact your friends were getting lost in the hype of having new gaming buddies was reason enough to put a damper on your mood.

You had her there, though, and that was more than enough for you. These kinds of situations never failed to leave you unsure how to act, afraid of looking like an antisocial snob who looked down on others. Together, the both of you looked the way you felt, a bit ostracised and uncomfortable with the undesired and unintentional division between gender, but you accepted it begrudgingly like the other things that had happened so far.

Half an hour into their bickering and fooling around you decide to go somewhere else within the house, dragging Eunseo with you, and it’s the lack of shuffling behind him that alerts Mark of what’s going on in the back scene. It’s then that it clicks — you. You were still there, alongside your friend sitting on the sofa while the rest of them laughed and talked without even thinking about how you must have been feeling. His chest suddenly feels heavy with guilt, mind flashing back to the way the hem of your sweatshirt almost touches your knees and how much he wanted to roll your sleeves.

He’s reminded of past times, times where you were both just a little younger and surrounded by a completely different group of people, but he thinks the way he looked at you back then hadn’t changed at all in comparison to the way he looked at you now. Like he wants to get to know you so much it strangely makes his heartache from time to time. Like he can’t find a way inside your world when he had been given the chance to see you again after two years of desperately agonising over whether he should send you a friend request on Facebook or not. Yet there he was now, just a breath and a half away from speaking to you and just like the God damned fool he was, Fortnite, of all things, cockblocked him into getting distracted by a conversation which he couldn’t get back on the groove because of how truly shitty he felt. 

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “I think we forgot about…”

“Shit,” Vernon says, and Jungwoo flings his head back to the now empty space on his sofa, eyes widening to the point of almost looking like an exaggerated animation. 

Lucas is shrugging indifferently, “They probably went to drink some water or something like that,” And then he’s back to telling the rest of the story he had been telling before Mark interrupted the flow. That doesn’t deter Jungwoo, who gets up from his spot and goes through the same path you had gone a few minutes before. 

“They were sleeping,” He announces when he comes back, “Said we should catch up while we’re at it, and to wake them when we decide to be… inclusive.”

Kino hisses, his face contorting a little at the blow, “That’s something ___ would say.”

“That’s because it was her who said it,” Jungwoo snorts. Mark feels a pang in his chest at your choice of words: they were words said to cause an impact, to bring awareness, to hurt those who were inconsiderate. You didn’t like these type of things, and now he was not even in the mood to be roped back into a setting where he knew it left you uncomfortable.

“Let’s just play two or three rounds, and then let’s watch the movie,” Lucas suggests, still trying to revive the situation.

“It’s not cool to leave them out,” Mark frowns, and he means it. There were many instances in the past where he really wanted to find a way to bring you into his circle of friends, maybe befriend one of your friends just so he could have you around, but as good he was in some things, Mark was disgraceful in everything related to crushing on someone else. He knew he would make a fool of himself, akin to everything he had done ever since he saw you last week. The closest he had been to you before had been in the cafeteria line, and even then he was cockblocked; you looked at him briefly in the eyes and trapped him there, and when he was ready to smile at you, a sign of friendliness which he hoped was inviting, one of his friends calls him and that bubble involving you two was burst just as quickly as it was formed.

That had happened the last days of his junior year, your senior year. And that was the last time he physically saw you. Until last week, what he considered destiny brought you two together. Or Jungwoo brought you two together. He supposed Jungwoo would be absolutely elated if he knew the extent of his thoughts concerning his best friend.

“Yeah guys,” Mark hasn’t known Kino for that long, but he just knew the guy had a serious and righteous aura surrounding him like a superhero cape. “Let’s keep the game talk for another time. This is a movie night for a reason.”

No one seemed bothered about it, as if the original plans weren’t watching a movie, and Jungwoo once again took it upon himself to go call you and your friend, disappearing once again from their eyes, and then returning some minutes later with a very grumpy looking you with said friend rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“This better be good if you felt so compelled to wake us up,” You huff, pushing the bunched up sleeves of your hoodie over your fingers, and Jungwoo pouts from beside you before throwing his arms over your shoulders. He’s hugging you close to his body and you don’t seem uncomfortable by that: you’re neither recoiling in his arms nor freezing, you just roll your eyes at his antics and even go the extra mile to hold the hand that’s dangling pretty close to your chest. Rub your thumb against it. Lead him to somewhere on the sofa where he leans against your chest so freely it stings Mark’s heart for a moment.

He’s unsure of what to make of this. When he saw you last week, Jungwoo didn’t really make an effort to introduce you to him at all. He didn’t say you were his girlfriend, but he also didn’t say you were just his friend. He’s pretty sure the way he’s looking at you both is obvious, because Vernon nudges his shoulder to catch his attention, and whispers, “It might look weird, but they’re friends.” And just then, your other friend — Eunseo? Eunhee? — sits down and cuddles right against Jungwoo, the three of you doing this really strange yet endearing three-way spooning Mark could never think of doing. 

The mood is somehow better now, he thinks. You are all watching Coraline — your choice, because ‘it’s only fair we choose it’ — and Mark’s friends don’t seem bothered by it, neither do yours. Maybe it’s an occasional reoccurrence of yours, watching animated movies, or maybe it was just pure coincidence, but Mark is storing all of this information inside his brain greedily like a man starving for life, because it’s information concerning you, and he’ll take whatever he can get if it means it lets him get a small glimpse of who you really are. He had always doubted you were that quiet and neutral.

When the movie ends, almost everyone is sleeping. Lucas was knocked out cold against Rocky halfway through, and little by little eyes start closing and fights are lost against tiredness. The only exception to this is, of course, you. You’re still awake, looking at the TV screen with the palm of your hand propped against your cheek, squishing it so cutely Mark has a hard time concentrating on anything else. It’s stupid, he thinks, how you’re somewhat of a badass — or at least that’s the way he sees you — yet you’re still very capable of melting his heart to a dripping mess without even meaning it. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose, to appease him or something of the sort; you’re just… Being you. Minding your business. And he likes that a lot already. He wonders how he would react if you ever directed your energy towards him to offer him a smile, or caress the back of his hand, or even hug him. He’d combust on the spot.

 But you’re not even giving him the time of your day, and for now, he’ll take that. You probably don’t know who he is, can’t remember how you two go way further back than everyone else thinks. He wonders how he can get close to you when it seems like ten million miles are separating the both of you as opposed to the fact that you’re actually sitting close to each other.

You shake him out of his reverie when you meticulously and carefully withdraw yourself from the tangly mess of limbs you had been for the past two hours. Your friends don’t wake up if anything they snuggle even more against each other like two baby otters hugging as they sleep. Mark’s heart is crawling up his throat with the desire to follow you to wherever you had gone, probably the kitchen, and for the first time ever he doesn’t let the opportunity go to waste. There’s no one to stop him from his quest, he’s a man with a mission and he will knee kick whoever tries to stop him on the throat.

As predicted, you’re in the kitchen. Your back is turned to him, the billowiness of your large sweatshirt — the colour this bright orange that immediately caught anyone’s attention — engulfing your frame, making you look so tiny and huggable it’s no wonder Mark imagines a scenario where he just approaches you and hugs you from behind, cheek poising on your shoulder before your own arms reach back and stroke his hair. It was ridiculous of him to let his mind run so wild when the reality was that you two had never spoken to each other directly. But that was about to change, even if he was on the verge of peeing his pants because of how nervous he was.

A sound startles you, seemingly someone clearing their throat from behind. Much to your dismay, it’s the person you least expected to be there.

 Mark. 

You’re stunned beyond words to see him standing with his eyes trained on you and nothing else. There was no apparent reason for any interaction between the both of you, nothing was tying you together expect the fact that you both had gone to the same high school. But you were sure he didn’t remember you. You weren’t that recognisable. Just a normal looking face amongst the crowd.

“Um,” He starts off, blinking twice as if he’s gathering his thoughts and pondering how to word them correctly, “Sorry ‘bout… What happened out there.”

Now, this was interesting. Verging on the edge of uncomfortable if you really tried to apply some logic and let your mind take over. Though the mild curiosity plaguing you felt more enticing. You really wanted to know why he was here, apologising on behalf of the others for something you had decided wasn’t that deep. Annoying, perhaps, but deep down understandable. It had already washed out.

“What do you mean?” You cross your arms against your chest and lean back with the bottom of your spine against the counter. 

“I, uh. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m sorry that we ruined your night.” He sounds strained like he’s not proud of the things he just said, but had to do it because that’s how normal conversational situations worked.

It was cute, you thought. His words. His stance. The way he was jiggling his foot up and down in what you assumed was nervousness. Him, in general. 

Mark Lee was an attractive boy, and the stiffness you felt at the absurdity of what was happening wasn’t enough to stop you from acknowledging that. He just had to be absolutely handsome, because being perfect in almost every other aspect probably was insufficient to him. No matter the circumstance, even now — looking like he would rather pop off his head like a balloon instead of standing there — he looked divine. 

If you could bet he was unaware of how heartbreakingly good-looking he was, you would. He looked like that kind of person.

“You don’t have to apologise, Mark. It’s whatever.” His name slips out of your mouth so unfamiliarly you’re taken aback. This is the first time you’re addressing him personally, hell — this is your first conversation. You almost want to discreetly pinch yourself to see if it’s true, but you don’t. Mark was apologising to you for something you no longer cared about as a way to spark a talk between you two, and if that was just a figment of your imagination then so be it.

“Really?” He’s surprised, that much you can tell by the way his irritatingly cute lips round up. “You looked pretty pissed…”

“I was,” You shrug, “It was a bit shitty of you guys, if I’m being honest, but I’m over it.” You meant those words. It wasn’t something you were saying as a means to sweeten him up. You wouldn’t do that. Not to him, not to anyone else.

“I still feel bad… But I promise we didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know.” Words cease, because you truly don’t know what to say other than that. What were you supposed to do? Instigate something that wasn’t related to the current topic? You felt weird even contemplating it.

Seconds go by, the sounds coming from the TV in the living room muffled yet audible, and voilá, there it was.

The uncomfortable silence you knew would happen if you ever were to speak to someone like Mark. It was there, and it made you inwardly wince at how obvious it was. You were looking to everywhere but him. Feigning interest in the speckles of black in the marble countertop of Jungwoo’s home was better than looking to him. Deep down you were planning your escape route. You were ready to gulp down the rest of your glass of water and flee to the living room, maybe grab your stuff, go home to your bed where you could think about whatever you wanted without fearing someone peeking into the mess your head was. 

And then,

“I’m… I’m not sure if you remember me, but we went to the same high school.” His voice is soft, so soft but still so capable of boggling you to the point of silencing your inner thoughts. 

Mark Lee knew who you were. He knew you, and not just because you were Jungwoo’s best friend, but he knew about your existence since the time you had always dreaded. The heavy feeling in your throat resembles bile, and you try to push it down for the sake of looking presentable and okay in front of Mark, despite feeling completely the other way around. Your hands are clamming up, you can sense them and the urge to fidget with something, the urge to shrink in size to the littlest you possibly could. 

But you couldn’t just disappear out of thin air. Unfortunately. So once again, you suck it up, remember who you are and where you are, and reply with a meek, gentle, “I know.”

He laughs dryly, a hand scratching the back of his neck, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

You’re somewhat befuddled by his statement, “What?” A chuckle leaves your throat, and abruptly you’re no longer feeling mortified by all of this, just bewildered, curious, intrigued. He made the leap, opened a path where you both could meet in the middle, and you weren’t going to let this one go without prodding it to its bone and core. “Mark… Everyone knew you. How could I not know you?”

“Not everyone knew me,” He sounds exasperated, and you deadpan at his reply, calling him out on his bullshit. The hue of the lights in Jungwoo’s kitchen must be completely fucked up because you swear if you squint there’s some lovely baby pink dusting Mark’s cheeks. “I was just… trying not to let the conversation die. Also, you’re the only person I have recognised so far that went there. It’s nice to see someone familiar.”

You almost choke at him calling you familiar, “Your best friends go here too, though.”

“That’s different.”

You want to roll your eyes but decide against it. “How so?”

They’re…” He trails off, “My best friends. I know them. I’m with them all of the time. And you’re…”

He must have a habit of not finishing his sentences, you realise. Either that or his brain cells are trying their hardest to formulate coherent, plausible thoughts so he can say them. If that’s the case, they’re failing miserably.

“A stranger.” You quip. It’s the truth. You racked your brain for a more appropriate word, but the scan you did for approximately two-thirds of a millisecond failed you. He bites his lip and looks away like he knows you’re right but he’s afraid of confirming it. Great, you muse privately, now I’m focusing on his god damning lips. “You know something? I think I should be the one saying that.”

“Saying what?”

“I thought you didn’t know who I am,” Dropping the tone of your voice by an octave, you mimic what you think Mark’s voice sounds like. As a response, he bursts out laughing at your silly imitation, even going to the point of lowering his upper body against the island separating the both of you, and covering his mouth a few moments later because of how loud it was in comparison to your tranquil surroundings.

His laugh starts low but then ends high-pitched, and as surprising as it is, it doesn’t overwhelm you like you thought it would. It’s kind of ridiculous how something so absurdly normal is capable of making your night, but it does. Also, his face looked kind of cute when he laughed, but you weren’t dwelling too much on that.

“Sorry… That was funny as hell.” He lifts his head, scooting his body closer so he’s closer to you, so he can see you better, so he can be more attentive. There’s still that island blocking him from being too close to you, and for that you’re thankful. Having him where he was already proved to be nerve-wracking if he was mere centimetres away from you… You’d take your previously forgotten escape plan in consideration. You note that it’s the first time you can physically recognise how he’s feeling. “But to reply to what you said, I saw you around school a lot, so it’s normal for me to know who you are, I guess?”

“It’s not, Mark. Okay, let me see if I can explain it to you the best I can.” You sigh, hopping onto the counter behind you. This boy had to be oblivious of all things. “You were popular in high school. A lot of people liked you because you were cool and funny, and good-looking, and a plethora of other annoyingly good qualities.”

It’s too late before you can fully grasp what you just said. 

Because being the normal human being you were, you had just revealed to Mark you thought he was good-looking. To his face. On the first conversation you two were having.

This was one of the reasons why you had always steered away from people like him. They were dangerous, but your idiot of a brain, which was known to be very quick when thinking, was worse, and subsequently, it left you with a variety of unfiltered, unbridled voiced opinions you should keep to yourself from time to time. 

It didn’t happen this time. And if Mark is aware of it or not, you can’t really say. The weird lighting is still playing tricks on you, making his cheeks appear flushed. But you know he’s not. His expression is as confusing as it had always been.

“You have to at least know that,” You giggle nervously, “It’s okay to acknowledge it. It’s not bad to be popular.”

“So a lot of people knew who I was. What’s the big deal about it?”

“Nothing,” You shrug, “I just find it weird how someone like you recognises someone like me, that’s all.”

He furrows his brow, “I don’t follow.”

Of course not.

“I was the most ordinary person in that school. I guess I’m just surprised you know who I am from back then since we pretty much were on opposite sides.” He sends you a look, silently asking you to explain further, and with a grumble, you add, “You ran with the cool kids. I ran with… normal kids.”

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms against his chest. You’re impressed with the range of emotions you’re pulling out of him. “We ran with different crowds. That doesn’t mean I can't know who you are. If that was the case, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Pausing for a dripping second, he eyes you intensely, the same kind of look he gave you earlier when you saw him. So he was trying to make a point come across after all. “I’m not an asshole… or a fuckboy if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s exactly what a fuckboy who’s an asshole would say.” You’re obviously joking. Mark was a wonderful person, you heard it a lot through the grapevine back in high school. How much of a selfless person he was. How caring he acted towards his friends. How serious he took things. It was simply impossible to hate the guy. You tried to hate him for being so nice, back in your sophomore year when you moved, but that just said more about you than him, really. 

He’s grinning at your choice of words, so you know he took it as a joke. You’re thankful for that. You already felt stupid enough trying to clarify your point of view in this whole You-Know-Me fiasco, it felt childish now that you thought about it, but if he wasn’t able to detect your sarcasm it’d be awkward time anew. “No, but really. I’m not that kind of person, ___.”

It’s the first time you have heard him say your name, and it floors you so inexplicably you can’t help but scratch the non-existent itch you were feeling in the back of your hand. 

Mark Lee was dangerous, you already knew that. He was that person who was able to lure you in without even wanting to, to make you feel important because you were on the receiving end of his attention.

You were dipping your foot, testing the waters. Seeing if the temperature was ideal. Like you’re standing above a swimming pool, buzzing with the rush of wanting to dive in, but holding yourself back because you don’t want to suffer a shock.

Curiosity gnawed at the frays of your being. You wondered if you would back out because you’re lazy and scared if you would submerge yourself in it, little by little as not to spook. 

Above all, you wondered if you would leap intrepidly into it and let yourself drown without a care in the world.

You smile, genuinely, “I know. You’re a good person, Mark Lee.”

Jungwoo pops up in the exact moment you finish saying Mark’s name, rubbing his fists over his closed eyes as a child does. Your heart swells at the sight. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

You grin. His timing was impeccable, as always. You were thankful the conversation ended that way.

One hour later, when you’re in the comfort of your own home, huddled underneath your warm, fluffy blanket, you put on your big girl shoes and do something for once. 

You were going to add him on Facebook.

Mark had the initiative to talk to you, which you were somehow grateful for, even if you were positively puzzled by his effort. So taking a big breath to calm down the incessant knock of your heartbeat, you click on the little Add Friend button before locking your phone quickly and shoving it under your pillow.

Turns out the prospect of never befriending Mark because you two were too different was embarrassingly ludicrous.

Your friend request on Facebook had been accepted not even five minutes after you sent it, your grubby, anxiety-ridden hands clutching your phone as soon as you heard it vibrate against your pillow. And when you woke up the next morning and checked your phone for notifications, one of them belonged to him, standing out and asking you to click on it while the others blurred in the background.

Did you get home safely? He texted, followed by a smiley emoji. In the haziness of the morning, where your senses weren’t still quite acute, your heart pounded intensely. It wasn’t like it was something out of the ordinary, but the fact it showed an inkling of worry and courtesy left your mind reeling and aware of your surroundings.

That was the beginning of a long string of texts that just never seemed to stop. From genuinely getting to know each other through questions to tagging each other on funny memes you saw on Facebook and reminded you of each other. You finally understood and were experiencing first-handed the hype about Mark Lee. And even if you didn’t hang out that much in person, the way you two had connected through messages was satisfying to you already.

Your schedules didn’t exactly match most of the times, so you could only see him in fleeting appearances when he popped up in front of your classroom, waving enthusiastically with a smile so cute it made you melt a little. Or when he went to lunch with your group of friends on Wednesdays instead of going back to his dorm room to study because he wanted to spend time with you. You supposed he was also speaking about Jungwoo, Vernon, and Kino too. He had gotten close to them as well.

On Christmas break, Mark goes back to Canada. The brief thought that floated through your mind about distance being an obstacle to your friendship is quickly washed away when he calls you through Facetime at 1:27AM, daylight clearly radiating in his surroundings while only your forehead showed on your side of the screen.

He wanted to show you the snow.

There were these instances in your conversations where your heart almost leaped out of your chest because of him. You weren’t going to make a big deal out of the first time he tagged you on Facebook until you saw the thought about you lol comment that was right after your name. 

It was annoying, the way he was making you feel.

You try to convince yourself you’re just thrilled over the prospect of being so close to him because your high school friends would be jealous of you. You tell yourself over and over it isn’t deep at all, that you have a greedy, superficial, and mean reasoning behind befriending Mark. But every time your phone dings with a notification, it feels like your heartbeat is crawling on your throat, leaving you no room to breathe at all. Like stepping on a seemingly shallow puddle yet it swallows you whole by surprise. Surprisingly enough, you don’t mind being underwater. 

Even if it means you’ll be gasping for oxygen soon.

______

It’s December 31st, and you’re sitting in the middle of Kino’s apartment deep in thought. Drunk, yet pensive nonetheless. 

If your calculations were correct, you still had two more weeks of classes left, and then the semester would be over. Normally you wouldn’t allow yourself to become so inebriated when you had finals just around the corner, but Vernon had told you Mark returned earlier than expected, subsequently confirming his attendance to the New Year’s party your friends had planned. 

Spending some days away from everyone really had put everything into perspective, and that scared you beyond words. 

The truth was, perhaps you were crushing on Mark Lee. It was insignificant, though. Everyone had a crush on him, it was as ordinary and common as liking superhero movies. As singing along to songs you like when they come on shuffle. It was as ordinary and common as breathing. So you weren’t dwelling on it too much. Except you nearly panicked at the thought of seeing him in front of you while your emotions ran high, unfiltered. It left you no choice but to chug three vodka lemonades in five minutes.

It was 11:05PM, there was a random song rumbling through the speakers you neither didn’t care about nor recognised, and you were sitting down on the floor, wondering about your academic life. Not one of your best moments, you reckoned.

But that’s how Mark finds you, anyway. 

He had shaken Lucas off of his back the moment he arrived at Kino’s, the boy clinging to him like a Koala, yelling a much-slurred m’ssed you bro against the shell of his ear, and hugged the other guys quickly. There are a lot of people he doesn’t know or run within his circle of friends. Furthermore, there seems to be a particular spot amongst the crowd that’s void of physical presence, like a black hole of sorts keeping people away from getting near. He doesn’t understand why he’s walking towards it until he gets there, sees you, siting crisscrossed and completely zoned out.

The most irrational chunk of his being wants to blast someone’s ear off for leaving you unattended and alone while you’re clearly not in a position to be so, but he’s Mark and you’re you. So he kneels beside you like he’s on autopilot mode, touches your shoulder to get your attention, and when you look up to him he just knows.

It would truly be an understatement to say he didn’t miss you.

You blink twice at him as if you’re in disbelief. He tightens his hold on you ever so slightly, just enough to make you realise he’s not a figment of your imagination. It’s obvious you’re questioning his presence. The way your eyes are glossed over so heavily plus the inconvenience of being sat on the floor rather than a normal sitting surface. They indicate your lack of sobriety. 

And when it dawns on you, amidst the fog of your thoughts, that he’s really there, you’re looping your arms around his middle, spooking him beyond words as you pull him into a hug. “Marky!” 

This is uncharted territory. Public display of affection wasn’t something you two ever did, well, except the occasional shoulder bumping or once when you grabbed onto his wrist because he was going in the wrong direction. There was no logical reason behind what you were doing, Mark was aware of that, you were drunk after all. But you have your forehead against his chest — awkwardly, if he really thought about it — and your arms are crushing his back, and yeah. In times like these, all logic flies right through the window.

“Hi.” You’re beaming and Mark feels nauseous.

“Hi, you okay?” He says in your ear, brushing away a small strand of hair. Not even the loud pounding of his heart could overtake the worry he was feeling. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m good, Marky boy! Now that you’re here, I’m even better.” 

There it was. That jolt in his chest.

It was much like a constant whenever he was with you. Whether you were with friends or not held little to no importance, it happened every time you said or did something that left his mind reeling with unrealistic possibilities. Normally, these things would be mildly dubious, like that one time where you wiped some sauce he had on his chin with your thumb — he dubbed that your motherly nature, you did similar stuff to pretty much everyone in your group. But you had hugged him, indicated his presence was a positive aspect in your life. He was about to overthink the hell out of that for the next two weeks.

“How much have you drunk?” You blink at him, pat the spot in front of you. He’s so focused on everything concerning you he doesn’t even feel the strain on his thighs from being on his knees. But he humours you anyway, sits across from you and mimics your position.

“M’drunk.” You shrug, “Not too drunk, but drunk. My feet hurt so I sat here, there’s nowhere else to sit.” 

“Kino’s room?”

“Yeah,” She snorts, throwing her head back, “That was my plan until I saw Jungwoo and Eunseo aggressively making out. I’ll pass.”

Mark’s eyes just about grow twice their size at your statement, “Jungwoo… and… Eunseo?” He pauses for some time, “Is it surprising that I’m actually not that surprised?”

“I’m not either. It’s like you’re expecting it but when it happens you’re surprised that it actually happened… It was a matter of time, I suppose.”

“I mean, she spends so much time at his place. I’m surprised, but not shocked.” He says, “It seems like everyone is getting a significant other, don’t you think?” His attempts at flirting are lame, yet he was going to try nevertheless, considering the circumstances you two were in, of course. 

“Everyone but me, m’forever alone.” You’re pouting dramatically, wringing your fingers together. He wishes he dared to say you didn’t need or were fit to be forever alone because right in front of you was someone who would die to make you his. 

But Mark was a coward. He would sooner shit his pants than say that out loud.

“Let’s cheer to that.” You take him seriously, rejoice at his suggestion, and drag him to the kitchen to get alcohol into his system. He doesn’t mind the implications of what he was about to do at all, you held his hand all the way through, only letting it go so you could grab a cup and mix a concoction you promised he wouldn’t regret drinking. And it wasn’t those palm in palm kind of hand-holding. You had your fingers laced in between his.

There’s a bitterness in the drink you hand him, yet he can still feel the sugar rush in the aftertaste. It’s something acidic, a mixture of passionfruit and lemon, and he winces at the first gulp only. It gets progressively easier when your eyes seem to make him burn a lot more than the alcohol.

One cup turns into two, two cups being enough to make him way past the tipsy stage. To make matter worse, Kino drops by the kitchen, slobbers a kiss on your cheek and offers you a blunt before skidding away. You get giddier than you already were, jumping around in your seat like a small child. It’s actually endearing.

Mark already knew Kino and some of the other guys indulged themselves with weed, and even if deep down he already knew you were one to do that too, it still shakes him a little.

It was kind of hot, the prospect of you smoking.

And he was about to witness it.

“This place is filth. Let’s go somewhere else.” You say. And by somewhere else you mean the floor. The one you two were sitting before you came here. But this time you find the rug in the living room empty and take him there, claiming you two should be comfortable.

His vision is spinning and blurry, the loud voices and music in the background muddled, and he curses himself for being such a lightweight. Mark was never much of a drinker.

You plop down on top of the fluffy red rug and he follows suit, watching you take a lighter from the back pocket of your jeans. You light the joint and take the first hit with calculated expertise only someone who did it way too frequently could pull off.

“M’conflicted.” You say after a while, blowing the smoke far from his face. Mark keeps quiet, just eyes you silently, waits for you. “I want to offer you the blunt because I don’t want to seem indelicate or selfish, but at the same time I don’t want to because I’d hate it if you felt pressured.”

There’s a twitch in his heartbeat. He hates it. “I… I have never done it before.” He gulps, pinching his hand to keep himself sane, “So I wouldn’t know how to do it.”

“I can teach you. If you want.” You quip, the joint still poised against your finger, “Only if you want, though. It’s cool if you don’t, more for me.”

It’s somewhat a dilemma to him. He wants to try it, not because you’re the person he has been crushing on for quite a while, but because he was always curious about it. Lucas was his housemate after all, and getting contact high was inevitable around him. That small buzz he felt those times was appealing to him, it made him wonder how it would be if he experienced it firsthand. He had always been curious, but never really acted upon it. Until now, with you right in front of him, offering him a chance at squashing his curiosity. 

That was his problem. You.

Mark was all for taking risks, and experiencing what life had to offer, but only if the people embarking with him were his friends. His friends friends, who knew how fucking silly and weird he was, and that definitely didn’t make his heart feel like it was about to explode inside out. 

But here you were, right in front of him, being so incredible considerate it was borderline annoying how even tipsy he could feel every nerve end. 

“Okay. Yeah, teach me.” Those are some dangerous words, he realises after he says them. His tummy feels like it’s a pot of lava, burning and waiting until it spills over.

You scoot closer to him until your knees are knocking against his, smiling brightly when he jumps a little. “It’s no big deal, really. Put the joint between your index and middle finger.” He’s frowning in concentration, and to avoid any messy situations — because of your hazy surroundings — you grab his palm to steady it and put the spliff in between his ready fingers. 

“Feels weird…” He says, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“Of course, it’s your first time holding it. It’ll become second nature to you once you do it more often.” You hum a bit, “If you keep on doing it, that is.” You hope he does. You’re nowhere near prepared to see the glorious sight of Mark smoking, and if he decides it’s just not it for him you’ll have to store that mental picture forever in the depths of your brain.

He doesn’t take his eyes away from the blunt, or if he does you miss it, so you continue instructing, “Now, you put it in between your lips, just the tip.” You’re aware of how blatantly sexually charged these instructions could sound to anyone else, and you were feeling it too. The crude images on the back of your lids were truly unnecessary when you were trying to teach the guy how to take a hit, not how to… do other things. You felt too hot in your clothes. “And you inhale. But lightly. I don’t want you to cough to death.”

Mark giggles at that, his shoulders less tense than before, “Okay,” He exhales nervously, “I’m gonna do it.”

“Lightly, Mark. Don’t forget it. After you inhale it, try to keep the smoke in for a little, and then you can push it out.” The hand he’s keeping free is wiped insistently against his jeans. Before the little rationality you have left on your brain kicks in, you put your hand on top of his and squeeze. As a way to comfort him. As a way to maybe let him magically know you had a stupid crush on him without saying it out loud. Who knows.

He inhales just like you taught him, the flame burning alive in front of you for a few seconds. The small cough he lets out is expected, and you laugh way more than you should have, considering it was his first time.

“You’re making fun of me!” He whines, the little pout adorning his lips testing your patience.

“M’sorry, Marky… It’s just cute, that’s all.” You mumble, feeling a blush take over your cheeks at your unfiltered confession. “Was it good? Did it feel nice?”

“It’s… different.” He places the joint back to his lips, takes a drag once again. His eyes widen at the intensity, and the way he exhales the smoke seems like he’s somewhat disgusted. “This shit is strong as fuck, Jesus.”

“Kino has a soft spot for me.” You shrug. 

“It seems like everyone has a soft spot for you,”

“I wouldn’t say that,” You roll your eyes at his statement, “I just feel like I have really good friends. I love them a lot. They mean so much to me I don’t think I can put it in words.”

Normally, you weren’t much of an emotionally forward person. The dullness in your life had never allowed you such novelties. 

Sometimes it truly felt like you were void of them, void of the feeling of showing someone how much you cared, outwardly. That changed when you got drunk, or high. It was as if every repressed emotion you crushed into the pit of your being just spilled out without any warning. You didn’t mind it though, neither did your friends. Jungwoo said it was a very you thing but still berated you constantly with hugs, which you didn’t mind. Eunseo always bragged about being the only person with whom you were affectionate. Kino and Vernon probably didn’t even realise it. Eunwoo and Yeeun were similar to you except when they were alone together.

“I’m glad, really. You deserve it.” He’s looking at you in a way you can’t possibly describe because he’s Mark Lee after all. And he could be looking at you in ten million different ways and you wouldn’t be able to decipher which one corresponds to how he’s really feeling. Sometimes you wished you could crack open his skull and take a peek inside his mysterious brain. 

The two of you keep chatting and passing the blunt to each other, the paper burning at the tip of your fingers as time flew by. Your eyes were droopy and your vision blurry, Mark’s body becoming one with the background. Even if you had important things to take care of, there was nowhere else you’d rather be than there with him. And so the two of you keep passing the blunt back and forth, enjoying each other’s company in silence.

Two minutes or five hours could have passed, and you wouldn’t even realise it. You’re unaware of how it happens but when you come back to your senses you have your cheek pressed against someone’s chest, their hand loosely wrapped around your back. At first, you assume it’s Jungwoo or any other of your friends. But the gentle pout of lips you see when you raise your head slightly tells you otherwise.

It was Mark.

If you were in your right state of mind, your heart would probably be catapulting out of your chest, splattering against the nearest window. Lucky for you, the weed just leaves you calm, and the slow drum of your heartbeat proves it.

There’s a sudden startling commotion in the room, voices rising in pitch as they start screaming a countdown. The countdown for New Year’s, those specific ten (and plus) seconds that held so much meaning for so many people, but to you had always been sort of a silly thing you did with your friends. When it came to the dreaded New Year’s kiss last year, Eunseo had been your partner since both of you were single and close enough to peck each other amid a drunken state.

“10! 9!”

The year was about to end and Eunseo was nowhere in sight. You figured she was finally smooching the hell out of Jungwoo, leaving you alone to kiss the back of your hand. You didn’t even have the strength in you to get up from Mark’s comfortable hold to go bother her about it.

8! 7!

Right. 

The year was about to end and you were cuddling Mark Lee in your best friend’s living room, tucked away in a corner where no one could see you both. You sit up, the arm he had around you sliding to the rug. He only opens his eyes for a second before he closes them, a smile permanently etched on his lips.

6!

These stupid traditions were not your thing. 

You were not getting swayed into kissing someone just because 2019 was six seconds away. Though it had been too long since you kissed someone. To make matters worse, you were a needy drunk.

5!

Sure, you weren’t one to fall through with silly traditions. But then again, you had a crush on Mark and he was a breath away from you, looking so peaceful it hurt you to even disrupt him. And you had liquid courage coursing through your veins.

Maybe you were going to kiss someone this year. 

To keep the tradition going.

4!

The seconds are ticking by, and there’s a foreign weight settling on top of Mark’s thighs. When he opens his eyes, he is almost sure he’s dreaming, the weed he had smoked fabricating cruel inceptions out of spite. Because the prospect of you really sitting on his lap, legs caging his, was so unrealistic he had to prop himself on his elbows, gaze wide and unblinking as if he was being deceived, scared it would vanish.

3!

You don’t have much time left. 

Processing the fact you were about to kiss Mark Lee for the sake of tradition — an excuse you would take with you to your grave, and the excuse you would give to anyone and everyone who asked you about it — was making you sober, the rush of acknowledging your decision clearing up your vision just enough so you could see how beautiful he looked.

He really was stupidly attractive. And you were going to kiss him.

“Mark,” You yell over the voices, scooting yourself closer to his waist and leaning closer to his face, “M’gonna kiss you, okay?”

2!

This was a dream, it had to be. Reality was probably playing sick tricks on his mind. Still, the weak, cowardly part of him was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

So he nodded towards you — the fabricated version of you sitting prettily on top of him.

1!

You were one second from kissing Mark Lee.

Before the last second dissipates you clasp the sides of his face gently, eyes zooming in on his lips. He swipes his tongue over them just then, and it resonates so deep within you it’s imperative to close that space distancing the both of you.

“Happy New Year!”

Calculated plans usually looked and sounded better in theory, when they were just a pencil-drawn draft with little annotations scribbled around it. The end result doesn’t always go exactly as planned. Theoretically, Mark and you were supposed to be passionately making out as others did the same around you. You had envisioned it clearly in the few seconds you had before putting your plan into action.

That’s not what happens.

You miserably miss your aim by a few centimetres and end up kissing half of his mouth instead, the force behind the puckering of your lips so strong he loses his balance, elbows giving out below him. There’s some nose bumping on his jaw, chests touching, a mess of limbs even the non-sober you feels embarrassed about. Mark knocks his head quite harshly against the rug, but his reaction ends up being a laugh. This severely high-pitched squeak like he’s truly in disbelief.

(He wasn’t dreaming, after all.)

“You okay?” He keeps on laughing loudly as you put your hand behind the nape of his neck, “Stop laughing, you idiot!”

His laugh is also stupidly contagious. As if every other quality he had wasn’t enough to make you like him. So you end up laughing with him, put your head on his chest again and listen to the sound of his heartbeat.

You’d worry about the consequences tomorrow.

You prided yourself for never getting serious hangovers in the past — usually, alcohol ran fast in your system and by the end of each night you drank plenty of water to avoid those terrible happenstances. Being the designated drunk mom of your group didn’t come with many perks after all. But the dull throb palpitating in your temples was a telltale on its own. When you opened your eyes, it only intensified. The blinds had little sits in which the light came in, and they only seemed to worsen your state.

If a pile of shit was a state of mind, it would be exactly how you were feeling.

The kitchen is completely spotless when you enter it, the bottles and snacks that used to be littering every possible surface simply gone. It’s not much of a surprise since Kino abhors having a messy house, his reasoning being one’s personal space reflects one’s inner self. Another thing that’s not a surprise is the fact that Kino is cooking, his back to you as he concocts something you are pretty sure it won’t disappoint you. Vernon is as useless as one can be in the kitchen; if it wasn’t for Kino he would be living off of frozen meals and warm tap water.

“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.” He only acknowledges your presence when you sit down in one of the kitchen chairs, resting your closed eyes against your palms due to the sunlight hurting them. You don’t even make an effort to look at him.

“Afternoon— Jesus. How much have I slept?”

“It’s almost 3PM.”

“Jesus Christ. Get me some sunglasses, will you?”

He snorts but still obeys. It takes a minute for him to come back, yet when he does he drops not only the sunglasses in front of you — which you scramble to put them on —, but an Advil alongside a water bottle as well. “Can’t believe I’m friends with a real-life vampire. Do you want to feast on me for breakfast?”

“Shut up,” You groan, pausing to unscrew the bottle and down the pill, “I’m a wreck.”

“That you are. We found you last night drooling on Mark’s chest. The boy was positively spooked for life.” You nearly give yourself whiplash with how quickly you glance up to a head-shaking Kino, yet he turns his back on you and goes back to preparing his food.

There are a lot of things you want to ask: if Mark was okay, if he had told anyone what happened, how he had left, if he really had been spooked by your whole behaviour — even the one you prayed only you and him knew about, but you compose yourself before all of those questions tumbled out of your mouth without you even wanting it.

“What did he say?” A seemingly innocent question on your behalf. You couldn’t show too much emotion.

“Not much, if I’m being honest,” He shrugs, reaching upwards to grab two bowls from the white cupboard, “Just told us to get you safe on a bed and to make sure you drank water. He was baked as hell, by the way. I didn’t peg him as a stoner.”

Your heartbeat picked up unconsciously at his display of concern, once again. “He’s not. It was his first time yesterday.”

“Look at you, you little nymph, luring the innocent boy in with your illegal ways.” He’s taunting you, you can feel it. Kino always knows more than he lets on, it’s one of his specialties besides being incredibly insightful and introspective. There’s this little smirk on the right corner of his mouth you are entirely too familiar with. He doesn’t say anything else, just puts down the bowls of rice mixed with vegetables and scrambled eggs on the table, and sits on the chair opposite of yours. 

“I know, right? I’m such a bad influence. Someone tattoo BAD FRIEND on my forehead, please.” You roll your eyes, spoon digging into the mixture, “Speaking of bad friends. Where are Jungwoo and Eunseo?”

“They—”

“I know. I saw them eating each other’s faces off last night, unfortunately.”

He shudders, “They left together. It was painstakingly obvious, but it still threw me the fuck off. If he does so much as comment about what they did, I’ll choke him to death.”

“The fucker would probably like it.” You say in between a mouthful of food.

“That’s what worries me the most.”

The conversation dies down comfortably after that, both of you indulging in your bowls of food and throwing the expected occasional jabs that came along with befriending an idiot. Your friendship and Kino’s was just like that, there was this mutual understanding that neither of you pressured the other into spilling their hidden thoughts or emotions to the other. The glint in his eyes was loud enough, it said ‘I’ll be here whenever you need me. Take your time. Don’t rush things. They need patience to grow, to gain form’. Each one of your friendships was different, distinct in their own special and important way. Kino’s held a dear place in your heart for the eminent trust rooted in its foundation. You would always find a safe haven in his presence.

“Oh, that’s right. Yesterday, Mark also told me you should check your phone after you woke up.”

“You only tell me that now? We should skip strangling Jungwoo, I think you should be the one to go first.” You push the chair back and get up, making your way to the room while your friend only laughs.

“It’s probably on the bed!” He yells.

The blinds are still closed, so you paw around the bed aimlessly until your fingers clutch the glass screen of your phone. You don’t even grab it, you just throw yourself onto the bed and frantically tap the screen twice so it comes to life.

You could swear you had never clicked on something so fast.

[03:09] mark: I know you’d probably say to text you when I got home safe so

[03:09] mark: I got home safe

[03:11] mark: Rocky was the designated driver last night lol Lucas and I were fucking out of our minds

[03:24] mark: I already told kino but make sure to drink a shit ton of water, you’re not getting a hangover on my watch

[03:25] mark: Text me when you get up so I know you’re okay

[03:36] mark: Tonight was a dream

[03:49] mark: Goodnight

[13:33] you: hiiiiiiiiiiiiii

[13:34] you: i’m glad you got home okay!!!! you know damn well i’d freak tf out if you didn’t lmk

[13:42] you: btw i’m sorry i drooled on your shirt. and got you high as a kite. amongst other things……. lmao 

[13:45] you: woke up with a bitching headache but i’ve drunk water and taken an advil so worry not kind sir

[13:53] mark: Good morningg

[13:53] mark: Have you eaten yet?

[13:53] mark: I mean good afternoon lol

[13:54] you: gmornin!! yes kino cooked for me omg:( i love him

[13:54] mark: Also don’t apologize you dummy, I really didn’t mind any of it

Grabbing the pillow from beneath you, you put it over your head to stifle the embarrassing yet necessary scream you let out. Mark hadn’t given you any sign he didn’t remember the sad excuse of a kiss you shared last night, so you would have a little bit of faith in him, pray to the Gods he dared to make the next move since you had already taken quite the leap.

The ball was in his court now.

Or you hoped so.

For someone who had the ball in his court, Mark Lee did absolutely nothing that proved it. You were dreading for a move on the inside, every single moment you spent with him leaving you analysing in detail all his mannerisms and actions while hoping something would be a dead give away of a smidge of retaliation to your feelings. 

Nothing. Weeks went by, and nothing happened. Nothing. Nada.

The hope you once felt dissolved slowly into plain misery and heartbreak like toxic acid on untainted skin. And still, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you bend and break before him, even if you didn’t really believe he was at fault.

At the end of the day, Mark never did anything specific that could be interpreted as flirting or as a suggestion of different intentions other than a friendship. You were foolish to believe he’d look at you in any different way: you had created expectations all by yourself and now you were left to collect the shards of not only your broken heart but the hope you had built up alone as well.

He never mentioned the kiss, never even allowed himself to be presented in any other way than the way he always was, the social, happy-go-lucky boy everyone loved to be around. And you were stuck pretending you felt fine, pretending everything was okay. You should have known better than to even dream someone like him was interested in someone like you. Becoming his friend had already been a marvelous feat considering how much of a disparity existed between you two.

You delve into your studies to take your mind off of him, which works out for the best, really. Getting good grades, as a result, soothes your heart in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Before you know it, the semester ends. 

The gang meets up after the last exam at Jungwoo’s house to discuss plans for the holidays. One month was a lot of time, so some of you are expecting to visit your parents for the most part, while saving the last week for the group trip. Not any group trip, the group trip. This was going to be your second year, and you were excited to go back.

“What about you, ___?” Eunseo inquires from her spot where she has only one foot on top of Jungwoo like she was lazily claiming her property. The two had started dating on the first day of the year and since then they had been the grossest yet cutest couple to ever exist. “Jungwoo, Mark, Vernon, and I are staying for the whole month. I don’t really feel like going back to my mom’s.”

You look at Mark to find him already looking at you in the same way he always did. It used to bemuse you but now it only irritates you. He looks dead inside. Averting your sight from him with the most stoic expression you can give, you then hum, “I think I might go home. I really miss my family.”

“No,” Jungwoo moans, dragging on the vowel, “Stay with us, ___. Please.”

“And risk me into getting roped in couple activities with the lovebirds? Thanks, but I’ll pass.” You snort, and Kino joins in.

“We’re gonna miss you, though.”

“Yeah,” Mark adds, “You always make the mood better.”

Your heart still skips a beat for him, there was no denying that. Even listening to his voice was enough to make your mind reel, but now you were no longer on cloud 9. Rationality had taken control of your heart. Getting over this stupid crush was the best for everyone, especially for you.

“Sucks for you, because I can’t wait to take a break from seeing you almost every day.” You looked Mark dead in the eyes as you said it, desperate to make him understand the coldness of your speech had a reason. You were hurting on the inside, though you couldn’t let it show. Words of indifference and annoyance were your defense mechanisms, the armour you had to built to preserve and protect yourself. Before your words felt too personal and too targeted at someone in specific, you quipped, “You guys tire me.”

The laugh was collective, but Mark’s was forced. Maybe his eyes were unable to make you see his true self, but the way he squared his shoulders while he laughed couldn’t fool anyone, not even you.

It seemed like the shoe had fit. He looked uncomfortable.

Good. 

Mission accomplished.

Seeing your mom smiling at you because she missed you was almost enough to make you sob right in front of her. 

But you don’t do that.

You only allow yourself to break down when you close the door to your childhood bedroom, the secureness it transmitted being enough to break apart the dam holding you together by the seams. It wasn’t like the tears rushing down your cheeks were there only because of how stupid you felt for liking Mark. Sure, part of it was because of that too, but you had the tendency to bottle your emotions until they couldn’t be contained anymore, so everything that had caused you pain during the past few months was being let out after suffering repression for a long time.

Spending three weeks in the company of your family proved to be a better remedy than you expected. Even the inevitable arguments and misunderstandings were welcomed, for they brought a sense of nostalgia which calmed the storm inside of you. In the times you isolated yourself in your room, it gave you a safe space to freely think about everything surrounding you, especially the Mark situation. 

He didn’t want to talk about the kiss, and that was fine. You were sure he had a reason for it, namely not wanting to go through the whole I’m sorry but I don’t see you like that scenario, which once again, was understandable. Mark didn’t owe you anything. You had set up the trap and fell for it all on your own.

You still talked to Mark throughout your time away from the group, because you’d hate yourself even more if you alienated him for something that shouldn’t intervene in your friendship. It was weird at first, the chemistry and dynamic between the both of you didn’t change whatsoever, which was good. Whenever he mentioned doing Facetime you always found an excuse to avoid seeing his face. Hearing his voice in the inevitable phone calls you did was already causing so much damage to begin with, imagine if you tended to his every wish. You would never improve. But you held on and followed through with it, as you knew you would. 

Those three weeks made you rationalise your feelings, swallow them whole and cage them in the depths of your chest. The longer you kept on daydreaming about you and Mark doing mundane couple things instead of focusing on the harsh reality that he didn’t like you back, the more it was going to hurt.

So when you got back in the city you deemed yourself normal again.

Jungwoo gave one of his infamous dramatic speeches about you never leaving his side again otherwise he would commit atrocities, while Eunseo did her best as the supporting role of a sidekick. These two were the closest to you out of everyone else, and the fact that they were dating now used to scare you in the beginning. Scared they would eventually distance themselves from the group like many couples do when they start dating. But that ended up being far from the truth since they annoyed the hell out of each other so frequently they even begged to be away from each other whenever they were with other friends.

The gang only had one week left until the second semester began, and this meant it was time for your group trip.

Besides being several things, Jungwoo was also absolutely loaded. Well, his parents were rich, which technically made him rich too, though he always preferred to say he just lived a comfortable life.

When the two of you met in your first year of college, in a class both of you were starting to abhor, you would never imagine how close you would become in the span of a few months. But little by little, your group began to form — Eunseo and Vernon came next, then Kino — and when the end of the first semester neared, he had suggested for the lot of you to head down to his vacation house, the one he went to every Summer. The prospect of going to a place like that in the middle of February was ridiculous until he said he had an indoor pool. Just like any other person who lived comfortably.

This year, though, there were going to be new additions to the trip. Including, of course, Mark and Lucas.

Everything was going to end up just fine because, at the end of the day, your friends were there. And no matter what happened, they were more than enough for you.

The downfall of Kim Jungwoo was being too kind and considerate of others no matter what the situation was. He didn’t have it in his heart to say no to most requests, especially if those came from someone who he considered a great friend of his. He really disliked seeing other people unhappy or lonely.

One hour into the drive to your destination for the next week, shit had already hit the fan. Jungwoo breaks the news that some friends of Mark and Lucas’s friends were tagging along because they were going to be left all alone back in the city without anyone else to keep them company. Lucas supposedly mentioned quite aloofly that statement, and Jungwoo, ever the altruist saviour, couldn’t resist but to make a proposal.

Eunseo almost choked on her gum, Vernon was sleeping with his head resting against Kino’s shoulder, Kino made this awfully funny stank expression, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t really avoid the poker face after he drops that bomb on the four of you.

“Are you fucking serious? Again?” Eunseo sounds completely exasperated, rightfully so. You were thankful she was taking the lead, as his girlfriend, it was more acceptable if the nagging came from her, and not from you. Even if deep down you were itching to slap the side of his head.

“Listen,” He tries to reason, side-eyeing her to keep his focus on the road, “They were going to be all alone until the semester started! And it’s not like we can’t accommodate two more people. My house is enough for all of us.”

She scoffs, “It’s not about the size of your fucking house, Jungwoo. It’s about how you just said fuck it to a comfortable environment between people who know each other to bring two more people because you pity them!”

“I know, honey,” His voice is soft, a twinge of regret and desperation coming through, “They know Mark and Lucas, though! It will turn out okay, trust me.”

You doubted it, but you couldn’t possibly hold some judgment or impact over Jungwoo invited over to his house. It was his after all, and if he had deemed fit inviting people who weren’t apart of your group of friends, you just had to accept it. Much like when Mark, Lucas, and Rocky came over to Jungwoo’s place for movie night. They were strangers to the rest (except Mark, but well, no one knew about the circumstances of your prior acquaintanceship except the both of you), but your best friend really tried hard to make his both group of friends become one.

If these friends were like Rocky, who unfortunately had gone abroad with his parents for vacations and couldn’t be present, maybe the environment was going to be amicable, fun even. You were willing to keep an open mind, despite the primary discomfort of mingling with people you weren’t familiar with refusing to wear off.

Eunseo slapped Jungwoo’s hand when he tried to hold it across the console, and you closed your eyes, repeating everything will turn out fine in your head over and over like a mantra until it became true. 

Fake it ’til you make it.

Someone had to be playing some kind of sick, cruel, and twisted trick on you.

Whoever was pulling the strings up there in the sky, God, that abstract deity or deities, were definitely set on making you suffer. Or perhaps someone who was into voodoo had a little stuffed doll version of you, and they found pleasure in pinpricking you whenever they were bored. That person must have been bored to death because nothing had prepared you for what you saw when you stepped out of the car.

You knew it was over as soon as your eyes landed on the two petite, dainty, and incredibly beautiful girls in front of you.

In your stupid, dumb, sad excuse of a brain, these friends Jungwoo was talking about were boys, rowdy, stupid boys, to match the rowdy, stupid energy Mark and Lucas emanated whenever they were together. It never crossed your mind, the possibility of these friends being girls, so unaware yet so powerfully able to destroy your self-confidence and childish hope that something would blossom between Mark and you. One of them, the tallest one with long wavy dark brown hair, has her arm on Mark’s shoulder as she laughs, head thrown back like he had just told the best joke of the century.

You feel sick to your stomach, there’s something akin to bile rising to your throat and you furiously try to swallow it down alongside the feelings you thought you had buried and locked safely in the confines of your chest.

“Guys!” Lucas bellows, and everyone’s attention shifts to your group, “Now the party can officially begin!”

A forced smile breaks on your lips, the kind everyone could see how fake it was. The girl’s hand slides from his shoulder as Mark shuffles forward, eyes on you, towards where you were standing next to Kino. The anxiety makes you grab his arm for safety, to keep you from acting stupid. You can tell Mark knows something is up by the way he scrunches his nose at your small, dismissive wave in his direction, but he neither says nor does anything about it. Thankfully.

The girls — the petty, hungry and jealous monster living inside of you ached to call them intruders — introduced themselves as Yoojung and Doyeon, the latter being the one who had been cosying all up on Mark. Much to your dismay, they’re both incredibly sweet and genuine people, to the point of helping the rest of you set up everything in the house so your stay is comfortable.

On the first night, Doyeon cooks everyone dinner and nothing but high praises are sung to the food she makes. Mark repeats the dish twice, compliments leaving his mouth incessantly, and the dagger piercing through your heart is dug deeper. You were painfully aware that she wasn’t to blame, but when even your friends begin asking for more of it, you were bound to feel the metaphorical blow on your stomach. The cook of the group was you. The person whose food always had everyone raving about was you. You can’t even stomach more than three bites before you say you’re not feeling too well.

 It was starting to resemble like that fateful movie night all over again, with you feeling retracted and alienated. For the remainder of the night, you claim to be extremely tired due to the traveling and withdraw yourself to the room you shared with Eunseo, — since she still wasn’t completely over the stunt he had pulled, but you just knew she was going to trade places with Kino midweek, who was rooming with Jungwoo for the time being — covering your entire body with the duvet. You can hear the cacophony of laughter coming from the living room. It rings in your ears until you fall asleep.

On day two, you wake up earlier than usual. Scoping around the enormous place, you find that no one else is awake, just you. Not even Lucas, who was curled in a ball on the U-shaped sofa, snoring. You tiptoe your way to the kitchen, set on making something guilt-free to ease the relentless growling of your stomach. After last night’s dinner, you were positively starving.

Cooking had always been something you loved to do as a hobby. As a kid, you had watched your grandmother, and your mother too, make the most delicious food with so much gusto it was inevitable for you to follow their steps and prove how cooking ran in your blood. Acknowledging how good you were at it was far from bragging: it was barely the result of kinship. So it was safe to say your ego was bruised at the lack of request from your friends to cook last night’s meal. This particular breakfast was meant to be therapeutic, to settle the sensitive nerves you had clawing inside of you.

You were finishing pouring the first spoon of pancake batter onto the oiled frying pan when the scraping of a chair against the floor sounds behind you, announcing someone else was now with you. The sudden heaviness clutching around your heart is a foresight, it’s like your body had become so in tune to his you were now able to feel his presence without any of your five senses.

“Good morning.” You don’t turn back to look at him, afraid the sight of a sleepy Mark would devastate you beyond the point of no return. 

“Morning,” He hums. You’re floored at how sultry and comforting his voice sounds. “What are you making?”

You were silly to think sharing a vicinity for a whole week with the person you were crushing on was going to be okay. The hand holding the scoop trembled pathetically against the bowl, and you hadn’t even look at him whatsoever. Every little thing concerning him was enough to make your heart grow in size and volume until it occupied the entirety of your chest.

“Nutella pancakes.”

Mark groans, the sound rumbling deep from his chest, and it’s so effective in the way it elicits a shiver down your spine, “That sounds amazing. Care to share some with this boy who feels like crap?”

That’s enough to make you face him. As expected, it shakes you to your very core. You couldn’t even muster up beautiful and coherent thoughts about how good he looked. His hair is obviously finger brushed, yet there’s a cowlick standing cutely stiff against the rest; the urge to put it down is so immense you claw your nails in the meaty part of your palm. “Did something happen?”

“I could say the same thing to you. You barely ate yesterday, and fled so quickly I didn’t even see you.”

You roll your eyes, but inside you’re scrambling to find an excuse while you go back to your main task, “It’s called being car sick, Mark. I’m not used to really long drives.”

“Sure,” His lips twist as a visual cue to show he didn’t truly believe your words. “If you must know, I feel like crap because I didn’t check up on you.” 

You hum once again, taking a dollop of Nutella and dropping it in the middle of the pancake before covering it with another scoop of batter. He continues, “I was going to, though. Then decided against it because I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Maybe you should have.” You say, using the spatula next to you to flip the pancake, “I wouldn’t have minded the company.”

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. You don’t reply, and the pancake sizzling on the stove speaks on your behalf.

Silence wraps around you so uncomfortably your skin crawls at how awkward it feels. What were you supposed to say? ‘No, Mark, I’m the one who should be sorry for acting all stupid around you’? Or perhaps saying ‘The reason I’m acting this weird is because I have a big, fat crush on you and seeing you act all chummy with an attractive girl makes me want to bash my head against a wall’ would reflect the dangerous tides drowning you better. So you do what you always do best, and place your feelings in front of him in the form of probably the most perfect looking pancakes ever. He would never realise it, and at this point neither did you want him to. The sting of being rejected had over-imposed itself over any fake bravado you could possibly pour out. 

He digs in like he hadn’t eaten for days, the moan coming out of his moan paired with his eyes rolling back into his skull so obscene it propels you to swivel your body so you could actually make something for you to eat.

You sit across from him while you eat your breakfast, and all Mark does is stare at you in the meanwhile. It weighs burdensomely on your shoulders for the first minutes, then disappears when the familiarity settles in. After you’re done, you go back to your room with exhaustion seeping through your pores as if you hadn’t slept in years. 

He doesn’t get up after you, just stays there sitting on the chair.

On day three, you try to keep a more positive aspect about every possible outcome. Sulking around in possibly one of the best occasions had little to no sense. You mingle a lot more with everyone, including Jooyoung and Doyeon. It pained you to admit, but they were really sweet, witty girls, which made it incredibly hard for you to hate Doyeon when she was so likable and genuine.

You didn’t want to be consumed by this restricting feeling of insecurity whenever she was around, because really, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Sure, she was extremely touchy when it came to Mark, it seemed like she had to be touching him in any way, whether it was the side of their arms touching whenever they were sitting down — because they always ended up sitting next to each other, leaving you to be sandwiched between Lucas and Kino — or her hand seeking solace in the slope of his shoulder as she laughed and leaned forward, but that could be simply coincidental. Or maybe Doyeon and you were on the same boat, sharing a crush on the most oblivious guy on Earth. Yet the difference between the both of you lied in the fact that she wasn’t afraid to act upon it unlike you. Even if you had kissed him, which was probably way more than she had ever done. 

But Mark either didn’t remember, or he was pretending not to.

By the end of the afternoon of the third day, everyone seemed to be in the mood for a dip in the indoor pool. And your nightmare began to unravel from that moment onwards.

If Doyeon already looked absolutely stunning with loose-fitting, comfortable clothes and minimal makeup, it was no wonder she was five times better with a swimsuit and barefaced. The simple pink one-piece she was wearing outshined your navy striped one by a long shot. You never really stood a chance against her to begin with, but now that everyone was as less clothed as one could be in public, you were feeling insecure beyond words.

Especially because Mark and she kept on splashing water towards one another, the underlying tones of flirting barely visible to anyone else but you. The way he ruffled up his wet hair, his lips parting whenever she spoke, the crinkling in his eyes. It all made nausea boil up in your throat, so you tried to distract yourself by playing silly games with your friends. Pretending was your strong suit.

Or you liked to believe it was.

That night Doyeon huddles in a sweatshirt that is too big to be hers with her head poised delicately on Mark’s shoulder, and whatever resolve to keep being strong you thought you had withered away, the bitter poison of definite heartbreak taking over and spreading like an incurable virus.

This was it.

You had reached your limit, there was no going back. A silent sob tears through your throat, your hand reaching to clamp over your mouth to prevent any sound from coming out. This was too much, even for you. Parading his probable relationship in front of everyone while completely forgetting to acknowledge what happened in New Year’s Eve was proving to be too cruel. Never in your life did you think Mark Lee, the person who you didn’t believe had a bad bone in his body, was capable of crushing your ribcage and whatever was inside into fine dust. 

The waters had completely pulled you under, and there was an anchor strapped to your ankle continuously dragging you down until you no longer could fight back.

You had taken for granted how sweet it was to breathe.

Eunseo is sitting on her bed, back leaning against the headboard when you storm in with your face blearing red and tearful. Her eyes catch yours and your knees buckle under the metaphorical pending weight of your heartbreak, still covering your mouth to stifle the ugly sobs reverberating against your palm. 

It was funny how amid your sinkage, the main thought going through your mind was not to alert anyone but to suffer in silence and alone. But it seemed like she wasn’t going to allow that.

You hear the clicking of your bedroom door closing followed by frantic hands grabbing your shoulders. Your best friend has shock painted all over her face, like this façade you were allowing her to witness was not one she was expecting.

“What happened?” Her voice is shaky, hands shaking your frame, “___, what the hell is going on?” There’s no strength left in you, you can’t even support your own weight, let alone verbalise the tsunami inside your chest. Eunseo lets you drop your body against her, her arms wrapping around you to cradle your head against the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

She doesn’t pry any further, and for that you are thankful. You just keep on crying quietly while her fingers run through your hair, humming a tune so soft and sweet it lulls you to sleep, the now dry tears leaving stain marks in its stead.

You wake up in the middle of the night to find yourself sharing a bed with your best friend. She is latched onto you so tightly it almost glues back the broken pieces of your heart back into place, and the protective streak it possesses brings a fresh wave of tears to your waterline, but you hold it back because you already feel too bad for ruining her — it was Jungwoo’s, actually — shirt. Sleep comes back to you once again, the headache resulting from your mental breakdown dissipating in the process. When the morning comes and both of you are awake, she lets you be the one to open up instead of being the one to poke through your sensitive state.

“I…” Red burns your cheek yet for a different reason than yesterday. You felt so disgustingly embarrassed to confess to another person about your innermost feelings, disregarding the fact this was one of the people you trusted the most. “I like someone.”

“I see,” Her reaction is neutral. She’s void of facial expression as if she’s cautious with the way she should react to your words. “You like someone. And the reason you cried yesterday was because of this person.”

You gulp, “Yeah. It was.”

“This person hurt you.” Eunseo doesn’t ask any questions. She resorts to making blanket statements to help you untangle the mess going on inside of you. As if you didn’t already love her enough.

“He did, but I don’t know if it was intentional.” You laugh low on your throat, shake your head in disbelief. “He’s so fucking oblivious about everything, I highly doubt it was.”

“What happened yesterday was prompted by something you saw, then.”

She was getting closer to unveiling the grand truth. The thrum of your heartbeat picked up as if your body was giving you a sign that even if it felt like you had drowned, it was still beating for you. You were still alive. You weren’t okay, but you hadn’t died because of it. “Yeah,” Confirming it was leeway to compressing the scope of potential people. She now knew it was someone in Jungwoo’s house.

“Okay, correct me if I’m wrong. You like someone so much it made you break down, and that said someone is currently in this house. Therefore it’s a person you and I both know quite well, except if it is either Jooyoung or Doyeon. Which I highly doubt because you haven’t known them for longer than four days, and the fact you said he.”

You scoff, flicking her on the forehead, and Eunseo tries to swat your hand away but fails. “Of course it’s not them. Who do you think I am?”

“I was just crossing people from the list,” She shrugs, “This was the easiest way. I also suppose you’re not in love with Jungwoo.”

“Eunseo! What the fuck!” You shove her now, appalled. She laughs aloud at your reaction, and it only makes you even madder. 

“Oh, bite me, will you?” She huffs before shaking her head with a grin, “It’s called process of elimination. “I have to narrow my options here. Do you want me to take a guess or do you want to tell me who the person is by yourself?”

And there it was again, the stinging of incoming tears behind your eyelids. They don’t come out, however.

You knew to cry meant you had held on for too long, but you couldn’t shake the nagging perception that it somewhat weakened you. Especially since the reason behind it was related to the mechanics of your heart. But this was Eunseo, your best friend. The person who had been there for you through thick and thin, while never belittling you for your complex way of being.

She deserved honesty. 

Even if finally admitting it to someone out loud was beyond scary.

“It’s…” You take a deep breath, “It’s Mark.”

She doesn’t show any major physical reaction to your confession, zeroes in on something behind you and keeps her gaze there for a few seconds. It’s unsettling to you, the anxiety buzzing underneath your skin as you wait for her to react.

“Oh my God,” You whine. It has been too long since she has spoken, and it was slowly getting on your nerves, “Just say something.”

She exhales loudly, her shoulders sagging, “Am I allowed to freak out?” You roll your eyes at her comment but nod nonetheless. Any reaction was better than none. “This is so exciting. I’ve been holding it in since yesterday but now I can finally lose my shit.”

“This is not exciting, Eunseo.” You frown. There wasn’t anything exciting about heartbreak. “He doesn’t like me back. These feelings I have aren’t mutual.”

“And how do you know he doesn’t like you?”

“Because yesterday he was all cuddled up next to Doyeon as if we didn’t fucking kiss on New Year’s Eve!” Thinking about it again made the anger you tried to tamper down close to surface. Mark was cruel.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Kissed?! I haven’t had time to process the fact that you even like someone, and you drop the K bomb on me like this? Tell me everything. From the beginning.”

And that’s what you do. You tell Eunseo about how you two go way back, way farther than everyone else thinks you go. 

You tell her about how your high school experience hadn’t been the best, and how Mark was the person you had always aspired to be back then. How popular and versatile he was. About how meeting him two years later had been extremely uncomfortable because a person like him wasn’t supposed to mingle with your people, yet there he had been, laughing at what Jungwoo was saying. About how you had reluctantly given this friendship thing a try, since her boyfriend was so keen on him and his friends, and since deep down you had always wanted to see how he was truly like. 

You tell Eunseo about how well you two match. How every conversation was never-ending, like an infinite, sturdy string that went for miles and miles and never stopped. How caring, and genuine he had always been, even in high school. You tell her about how little by little your resolve wore off, and his company began to feel both needed and appreciated. How on New Year’s Eve you get drunk together, and you teach him how to smoke. 

You tell your best friend how you both ended up cuddling on the rug of Jungwoo’s living room. And you tell her about how compelled you had felt to kiss him when the countdown began. Not because of some lame fucking tradition like you had tried to convince yourself, but because you really wanted to. You had never wanted anything in your life so badly.

Heartbreakingly, you tell her then about how the saddening part of the story unfolds. He doesn’t acknowledge your kiss, he doesn’t make a move, he doesn’t give you so much as an inch of leeway to convince yourself he could be feeling the same thing as you were.

By the time your storytelling ends, her hand is overlapping yours in what you consider empathy. She’s rubbing the back of it with her thumb, and the way she’s looking at you makes the lump in your throat almost lurch. You want to cry, to show how sad you were, though you don’t do it. Yesterday’s shenanigans had proved themselves to be enough — you were mentally tired. There was no more room or strength to do so.

“I can’t believe all of this happened underneath our noses and we never realised it…” She’s incredibly surprised, that much you can tell. Her face scrunches like she’s trying to remember something, and you just keep looking at her in amusement. “I seriously just thought the two of you were really good friends.”

“And we are.” You pause, remember how recently things hadn’t been that okay on your side. “Or were. I don’t know, honestly. I just feel like it will be really difficult for me to pretend that nothing is affecting me, because I have the urge to punch someone every time I see them together.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I noticed that they’re close but I just assumed it’s because they’re friends.”

“That’s such flawed logic.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms against your chest. “You and Jungwoo were also close but there was nothing platonic about it.”

“That’s differen— Okay. You’re right. So what are you gonna’ do?”

“There’s really nothing I can do. I’ll have to get over him.” You shrug innocently, and Eunseo glares at you. She wants to call you unbearable, you know it. “Three more days to go, and then I can put my distance.”

You can tell she wants to lecture you, tell you to find another way other than giving up. But she doesn’t, in true Eunseo fashion. 

The rest of that day is spent holed up inside your room without contacting or interaction with anyone except Eunseo, who takes one for the team and keeps you company during the whole time. She tells you Mark asks for you when she gets back from getting snacks on the break between the second and third Harry Potter movie you were marathoning on Netflix. You shrug in response, drink big gulps of water as if it would drown your feelings to death.

Sometimes you wished that was possible.

Day five arrives, and the prospect of things looking up is nothing but a mere pathetic theory. Quite on the contrary, it’s on day five where everything gets worse than worst. 

Throughout the day, the interactions between Mark and Doyeon are so disgusting to your whole system that you actually end up dry heaving against the toilet, retches tormenting you as you try to make sense of the situation. You had reached the lowest of lows, the rock bottom. 

But this wasn’t you. This had never been you. Not even back in high school where you longed to belong somewhere.

The migraines had been the only constant on that trip, and they kept on becoming stronger and stronger as the days went by, much like your mood. You had gotten to the point where the only people you tolerated were Eunseo and Kino, everyone else just contributed to the hammering going inside your head.

Still, you had been able to avoid Mark.

That is until the fateful day six begins, and Jungwoo corners you in the kitchen, a furious scowl etched on his face.

“Would you care to tell me what the fuck is going on with you?” His tone is accusatory, hurtful. He’s not there to be nice, that much you had already gathered.

“Is this an intervention?” You cock your eyebrow at him, leaning your lower back against the counter. He keeps staring at you, stance aggressive. 

“Let’s call it an intervention, if you want. Why the fuck have you been acting so weird lately? Why have you turned your phone off? Why are you avoiding Mark?” He’s firing question after question, not even giving you room to process them. The way he’s handling his energy is so chaotic, it makes your blood boil underneath your skin. Jungwoo had no right to be mad at you when he didn’t make any effort to consult you about your wellbeing during this whole trip, and the moment he does, his only instinct is to spit venomous words instead of choosing a more careful approach.

“And why the fuck do you care?” There’s a fire building up inside of you, the flames licking up your throat. You’re now almost chest to chest with him, your eyes wide and vicious. If it was possible, laser beams would be shooting out of them.

“Are you serious right now? You’re my best friend, of course I care about you!”

You scoff, “Took you long enough to figure out something’s not okay.”

“You’re being so unfair.”

“Am I?” You laugh darkly, eyes roaming around the room. Jungwoo hated being left in the dark. It made him feel powerless like he wasn’t doing enough for those he loved. And you were deliberately doing what you knew would hurt him. Because that was the person you had become. “Or were you simply too occupied to realise it?”

“Now you’re just pushing it, ___.” He grits out, “I don’t know what is going on, but you’re acting like an asshole. Everyone is commenting about how you’re avoiding us. Mark is like a lost puppy wandering around because it’s like he’s the plague to you.”

The thought of Mark feeling miserable because of you is just so absurd you don’t refrain from laughing out loud sarcastically. “Mark looks absolutely fine to me. Doyeon seems to be a qualified substitute.”

“Okay, I get it now. Something happened between you two.” He says, plain and simple. You feel the blistering heat on your cheeks, and words can’t even slip from your lips because he carries on, “Honestly, I’m not really interested in knowing what happened exactly. I care about the fact that you’re being an asshole to everyone else because of it. Don’t take your anger out on someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Shame is staining your face in such an ugly red shade you can’t even muster up the courage to look him in the eye, and fight back. Mainly because there’s nothing you can really say to him. 

“I’m putting you on shopping duty today with Mark.” He pauses, reaches for the back of your hand, and runs his finger just once against it, “Running away from confrontation is literally the worst thing you could possibly do. It will never fix things.”

He’s right, of course, and it hurts you.

It hurts you, but not because of how bittersweet truth can taste. It hurts because of all people, it had to be Jungwoo. Jungwoo, whose words had always been like rivers of honey flowing through your ears, now felt like they had blasted your eardrums off, leaving nothing but blood trickling down in its wake. This was a side of him you were seeing for the first time. But then again, this was also a side of you nobody had ever seen.

The extremes to which you had taken the situation was destroying everything around you. This vacation was supposed to be filled to the brim with beautiful memories you would never forget. Instead, you were letting your childish emotions dictate your whole persona, and disregard everyone else around you as if they didn’t exist, only him. 

You had nothing left to lose.

Maybe the truth would set you free.

For a few seconds, Mark thought he was seeing a ghost, the apparition of something supernatural right before his eyes. He was more surprised than the moment you kissed him on New Year’s Eve if that was even possible. But it wasn’t a ghost, it was you making your way to him while he waited for the person who was supposed to help him with grocery shopping. 

Now he understood why Jungwoo was acting all secretive and straight-up refusing to say who that person was.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” You sound annoyed, and he has no clue why. Actually, Mark has been in a permanent state of confusion ever since that day.

He remembers how going home after being so intimate with you felt like he had been floating in a cloud, instead of having Lucas push him by the collar and throw him on the bed. He remembers how soft and supple your lips felt, even if they had missed the initial aim because of how much of a fucking idiot he was. Everything had felt so surreal, like a dream too sweet to come true. 

But you never said anything about it or mentioned it ever again.

And Mark didn’t have the guts to invest further, because he was a scaredy-cat who felt too weak when it came to you.

“Oh. Sorry.” He makes his way to the driver’s seat, spares a quick glance in your direction only to find you staring stoically ahead. You’re wearing a navy blue cap, it sits so low on your head he can barely see your eyes, just the end of your nose and the lips he had been fantasising about for the past month.

The lips which had touched his — kind of — and since then Mark only grew defeated at the lack of response coming from you.

There was such a tense atmosphere between both of you, in comparison to how comfortable you had been around each other at the party. Everything had been going so well, Mark had never been so happy in his entire life, and in hindsight, the end of the night was just perfect. But the truth was, the kiss had been the catalyst to how distant you had become. 

No more facetime calls, no more feeling at ease whenever you both were together. And in Mark’s perspective, this trip was supposed to make the spark from the New Year’s Eve party ignite between you both again.

His expectations paled in comparison to the reality. The person he saw was avoiding him, glaring at him across the dinner table, refusing to interact with other people. Something was going on, and it was killing him not knowing why. Or worse, if he was the reason behind it all.

The eery silence ceases when you’re inside the supermarket, standing awkwardly still in front of the small magazine stall near the registers. 

“Do you have the list?” Your voice lacks any emotion, yet it still startles him. He misses talking to you freely, hearing you laugh through the speaker on his phone as he buries his face against the pillow because he’s smiling so big his cheeks hurt.

“Yeah,” He takes the folded slip of paper from his back pocket. It’s crumpled and frayed at the edges — he had been fiddling with it before he saw you. 

You clear your throat, avert your head to look at the tabloid newspapers, “We should split up, it’s quicker that way.”

“No,” He takes pride in the way his answer makes you look at him, the sternness in his voice showing. Mark wanted to be selfish for once. “I don’t want to lose you.” The pregnant pause is meant to make you think about his words, but he continues before things got too awkward, “This place is huge.”

You say nothing, but still rip the paper from his clammy hand, and storm ahead of him to find whatever was written on it.

Jungwoo’s scrawny chicken handwriting is barely legible, Mark notices once he peaks over your shoulder. You’re deliberating between two brands of rice as if it’s the hardest choice you had ever encountered in your entire life. It’s adorable, to say the least. But he doesn’t say anything, like always, because that’s what people like Mark do: they wallow in self-pity until feelings dissipate within the particles of the wind. They cower behind the false pretense of unrequited affection. They never chase their dreams to the fullest. They let them wither and fall between the cracks in the pavement.

Change scared him. Still, the thought of losing your friendship was enough to sear his heart.

So that’s why Mark was going to tread a very fine line, in hopes of at least getting back what was slipping through his fingers.

“Can we talk?”

You look over at him, a light frown adorning your face in spite of the poor attempt at hiding your face with your hat, grabbing a bottle of Coke at the same time. “We’re already talking.”

“We’re talking about groceries.”

“Are you saying groceries aren’t important enough to be considered a conversational topic?” You muse, laughing dryly right after. This indifference was starting to get on Mark’s nerves.

He strides so he’s standing right on the other side of the cart, hands holding it so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Cut the crap, ___. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Now move.” Scoffing, you try to push the cart in your direction, but Mark tightens his hold even further so you’re unable to take it with you. “Mark. Let go. Don’t make me cause a scene right here in the middle of a fucking supermarket.”

He falters with the intensity of your voice and takes his hand off, sighing loudly, “We’re not done. I’m tired of this.”

Your head flings back violently to stare at him with the widest eyes he had ever seen. Mark finally takes note of the incredibly purple under-eye circles, the tired, dull-looking skin. The deep, heart-wrenching feeling in his gut was slowly confirming what he had been fearing: he probably was one of the reasons why you were like this, if not the only one.

“Oh, you’re tired? How sad, Mark. Maybe take your head out of your ass for once and take a hint. So many things are happening around you and you either choose to ignore it or you’re just fucking dumb enough to not realise it.”

“What do you mean?” Mark feels like he’s being stabbed all over again with every poisonous word falling from your lips. It’s not the words themselves that are hurting him, it’s the fact that he was the person who caused you to become this way and not knowing exactly what he had done.

You let out a low shriek of frustration, “Unbelievable. You wouldn’t see it even if it hit you in the head.”

“Let’s talk in the car.” He sighs. You don’t say anything back, but Mark takes the eye roll you throw in his direction as a small victory for now. The rest of the grocery shopping happens in complete silence sans the squeaky wheels of the cart and the Ed Sheeran song humming throughout the store.

Mark is dreading getting in the car with you, afraid of getting another earful of rejecting comments or worse, not being able to find out what exactly he had done for you to completely shut him out. Was it because he allowed you to kiss him while you were both not in your right state of mind? Should he had been more firm in his morals instead of giving in to what he had been wanting for the past three years?

More silence carries both of you back to Jungwoo’s house, Mark’s hand gripping the steering wheel on the way back so tightly his knuckles are ghostly white against the dark leather. The air felt stuffy, full of resentment and opportunities for new beginnings. You reckon the time to pour your heart out has come: there, inside that parked car, you were going to tell him everything without holding back. This crush had grown to lengths you had never expected, it had turned you into the shell of the girl you used to be. 

Your inferiority complex had never gone away.

“Can I ask you something?” You start off, taking the baseball cap off of your head before running a hand through your slightly greasy hair. Mark’s eyes immediately lock on yours, nods in your direction. “Did it even mean something to you? The kiss?”

“I- I thought you didn’t remember that.” He gulps, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You thought or you didn’t want me to remember?” You hate how feeble your voice sounds, how crystal clear the pain echoes with every word you say. “You know, Mark, it’s okay if you don’t like me back, the thing is that I can’t really go on any longer pretending everything’s okay when it’s not.”

Mark’s body coils like a springboard at your implied confession, his muscles tense, and the way he looks at you resembles a madman. You allow him some seconds to formulate some type of reply, yet all he does is open and close his mouth as if there is nothing he could say.

“Yeah, newsflash… I like you, Mark. I thought the kiss made it pretty obvious but then again we were drunk and high so I understand if you didn’t think too much of it.” There’s a lump sitting at the top of your throat and tears brimming in your lash line. The urge to cry is so strong now, you had never imagined that confessing your feelings to the person’s face would be so emotionally and mentally straining. “I guess I’m the one to blame because I expected you to make the next move, to show that this crush wasn’t one-sided but… Yeah… We all know how that one went, uh?”

“Anyway… This is why I’ve been distant.” You chuckle, wiping the stray tear that decided to go rogue against your will, “And as you can imagine, seeing the guy I like acting so close to another girl was bound to make me feel all types of sad. I don’t know if you’re dating or not and if you are I am sorry for telling you this. I guess I just needed to let this all out before I began moving on.”

He’s completely still, zoned out as if his body was there but his soul was absent. You’re unsure of what to make of this since you were expecting him to say something back. But maybe this was for the best, him not saying a word. It would spare you an even bigger heartbreak.

“I’ll ask the guys to come get the groceries.” You smile sadly before opening the door, leaving him confined in that tiny car alongside his thoughts.

You don’t see Mark for the rest of the day, fortunately. While in the previous days you had been the one acting all weird and evasive, now Mark had taken it upon himself to fulfill that role. It gives you time to reflect upon yourself and your situation.

Dinner that night is made by you and everyone loves it. The conversation flows beautifully between everyone, even with Doyeon: you find out the two of you have a lot more in common than you imagined. Surprisingly, the heavy burden sunk in the depths of your chest is no longer there, only a dull ache which throbbed only whenever your brain conjured any thought about Mark. You’d take that as progress. Except you can’t help yourself but think about what prompted him into isolating himself. Maybe he was too embarrassed to face you now that he knew you liked him. Or maybe he didn’t have the courage to be your friend anymore. All in all, your pride was hurt. Not having your feelings reciprocated sucked.

Later on, you watch Bird Box sandwiched between your best friends, let yourself shed a few stray tears over the sentimentality of the movie. You can hear sniffles and stifled sobs coming from Doyeon and Kino while Jungwoo holds Eunseo’s hand and brings it to his lips to gently peck it from time to time. It’s enough to make you reminisce about New Year’s Eve, about how right it felt to be with Mark in that kind of intimate setting. You want to do it again and again and again until you can’t even remember how many times you have been like that until it becomes second nature to you. But that won’t happen. So you force yourself to eradicate that painful thought from your mind and train your eyes steadily on the screen until it all blurs.

People start going back to their rooms little by little, eventually. The clock is ticking near one in the morning and contrary to what you were expecting, there’s not one ounce of exhaustion in your body. You are awake, you feel awake like there’s a buzz in your bloodstream that’s preventing you from getting sleepy. It’s as if not even your own brain wants you to stop thinking.

Lucky for your brain, you can’t stop thinking. So while everyone else is sleeping soundly in their beds, the cogs in your brain twist and turn desperately trying to formulate any reasonable explanation for everything that had happened recently. And in spite of the sting caused by rejection, your heart still called to him, pathetically so, and during this whole fiasco, you were worried about his wellbeing. You were worrying if he was hungry, thirsty, tired, either if he was crying or in need of a hug. Above your state of passion for him stood a friendship you valued tremendously; you were losing both at the same time.

The blood boiling beneath your skin makes the air around you feel too stifling like you’re in the middle of a heatwave on a July afternoon instead of a February late night where the temperature doesn’t even waver beyond 20ºC. You trudge outside to where the pool is, the moon illuminating and reflecting upon the tiny ripples of water ever so gently, just enough to showcase how beautiful stillness and darkness can be. There’s this urge within you to just dive in, even if the water is not as warm as you want it to be, and you do just that, damned be everything and everyone. 

You’re swimming in Jungwoo’s summer house backyard all by yourself in your underwear and somehow, despite the trials and tribulations of your pathetic life, you wouldn’t change anything about that moment. They are the ones that make you grow as a person, that help you shape yourself into a more mature, better version.

But moments like these are also meant to be changed. Like the way the pitch-black sky is coated with hues of pink, yellow, and orange just as dawn becomes daylight. Those seemingly slow and everlasting shifts in nature you can’t help but acknowledge: they’re meant to happen.

That’s why you don’t even flinch when you hear a small splash behind you, yet that restlessness comes to life, the one where you can feel in every fibre of your being whenever he was around. But you don’t turn around, don’t act surprised. You’re ready to embrace whatever it is that is about to come your way.

“Hi.” Mark’s voice is so soft and faint you can barely hear him. If it wasn’t for the stupid fact you like him so much to the point your chest felt like it was about to split open violently in any second, things like his uneven breathing pattern would go amiss. 

You flip around, see how sunken his face looks. It breaks your heart even further than it already was to begin with. Resisting the impulse you were having of swimming across the pool so you could hold him in your warms was proving to be the most difficult thing you had ever done. 

“Hi, Mark.”

In any other occasion, seeing Mark shirtless would be more than enough to make you go through hot flashes for the following hour, especially when you were only wearing your bra and panties, yet there was absolutely nothing sexual about this moment. You were both near-naked, stripped of barriers, of façades you put on in order to protect yourselves. At that very moment, there was only vulnerability oozing from your pores and his.

This was it. The grand finale was finally about to happen.

“How are you feeling?” You start off, lowering your shoulders inside the water to keep them warm from the breeze. “You look like shit.”

That elicits a snort from Mark’s lips followed by a gleaming smile which you can see from your spot on the other end of the pool. It’s sweet and it sticks to your memory like golden honey, reminds you of how much you have missed him in general. He was your friend before he was the one who could either make you or break you, so you yearn for his friendship way more than any other thing in the world. No one could understand you with the same intricacy and intimacy as Mark did; you would rather not be able to feel the suppleness of his lips than to lose him altogether, lose the gift of his friendship.

“Honestly?” He asks, mimicking your position and lowering his shoulders as well, “I don’t think there’s any way I can convey how I feel right now without it sounding like complete nonsense.”

This statement intrigues you. It sparks something deep within that you know it shouldn’t, but falling in love with someone brings out the person’s most vulnerable state to the forefront. A person in love will go back on their word if that means one step closer to the heart they want. “Try me,” You shrug, “I’m all ears.”

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“If this is all because of what I told you… because I like you, then I’m sorry.” You cast your eyes downwards and flick mindlessly the water around you. “I know that it’s a lot to take in and maybe it was selfish of me to let it all build up and then lay it all on you like that.”

“No,” He interjects quickly, treading the pool waters in slow but steady strides until he’s more than an arm’s reach from you. “I was surprised, yes, and it was overwhelming because that was the last thing I was expecting you to say.”

You laugh, “You were malfunctioning back there. I get it though.”

“You don’t,” He deadpans, voice solemn, “You don’t understand at all… What it’s like waiting for years to hear something and then your brain completely shuts down when it does finally happen.”

Your heartbeat is thrumming so loud you can feel it reverberating all over your body, it courses through you like a rush of blood, intensely so, that you refrain from pinching yourself. The nuances in his speech are making you feel like you’re dreaming the sweetest dream and if it was indeed a figment of your imagination, you didn’t want to wake up any time soon.

“I’ve had a thing for you since high school, ___.” He confesses, angling his body to the side as if ashamed or embarrassed or afraid. Deep down you want to laugh because there’s no reason for him to feel like that at all. You’re desperately in love with him in every intricate and complex way possible in the world. Like a galaxy and constellations, and the moons, the planets, and the stars within orbiting in sync yet light-years away from each other.

But the heavy rise and fall of your chest and the tears welling up in your eyes tell a different story.

Mark liked you back.

He continues, “And I know you used to think I was too popular to even become your friend, but that sure as hell didn’t stop me from liking you. Hell, it made me like you even more… I knew it back then and I know it now too… I really, really like you. A lot. Like, you make my heart do these funky, weird flips every time we hang out.”

You’re crying by the end of his little confession, sniffling quietly so he doesn’t notice, yet when he finally dares to lift his eyes towards yours, he sees you wiping the back of your palm against your cheek. As if it was an instinct, he crosses the space left dividing the both of you, pausing right before his hand could touch you. Like you were a dainty marble statue that could break even with the tiniest of touches.

“Shit, I’m sorry— Don’t cry, please.”

“No,” You protest, “I’m crying because I’m happy. I’m crying because I never imagined this moment would actually happen. It’s just surreal.”

His hand stutters when it finally grazes your skin, yet his thumb still spans the surface of your cheek ever so gently, ever so softly. You refuse to believe it isn’t real, these last interactions you two were sharing were so dream-like your own hand reaches up to press against his, to feel the texture of his skin, your eyes closing in the process because of how full your heart was feeling.

Mark liked you. The person you liked, liked you back. You had been torturing yourself for the past week with thoughts of not being reciprocated to the point that you felt the very core of your being dim. And it had been all for nothing because he had a thing for you way before you even considered him a friend. 

Miscommunication was such a fickle thing. This whole situation could have been avoided if the two of you had been more open about your feelings instead of repressing them in fear of the reaction of the other.

“Mark,” You say, his hand still cradling your face, “Can we hug? Is that okay?”

Mark is unable to properly reply with words to your question, only a smile breaking through his lips at the pure disbelief of how happy such words could make him feel. He doesn’t need to say anything at all, he reckons, as he lowers your hand, and his too, before snaking his arms around yours, tumbling you softly into his chest in the process.

There’s a newfound comfort in the way your face is squished against his shoulder, like every single worry that had been weighing him down had completely vanished the moment you stepped into his arms. The pounding of his heart is no longer rooted in venom, it has tiny flowers blooming along each branch and stem, a small, lovely glimpse into paradise on earth. 

A wave of nostalgia hits Mark in the gut and he can’t help but to think about New Year’s Eve, think about how similar this moment feels to the one almost two months ago yet the contrast is so very stark. Back then you were both tiptoeing around your emotions, scared of taking a leap and finding out that there’s nothing but concrete down there. Now you’re worn down, you and him, by the cluster of emotions and the lack of experience on how to handle them. Yet you’re together in whatever this is, may that be navigating through the corridors of young love or finding out what’s on the other side of the door doesn’t quite correspond to what you’ve been idealising. 

“I’m sorry,” You’ve been in an embrace for probably more than ten minutes and Mark’s voice breaks a little, right hand spanning the middle of your back, “For not being so forward… I’m not very good at this— I’ve never been. I tried, back in high school, you know? I tried but it always felt like the universe was against me. Every time I mustered the courage to do something, another person cockblocked the shit out of me.”

You bring your head back to look him in the eyes, “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not very good at this either. I had this crazy way of thinking that you were like… unreachable to someone like me. So I never expected us to become friends, let along like you or have you like me back.”

“Please,” He scoffs playfully, tightening his arms around you, “I liked you first.”

You roll your eyes, stepping out of his embrace and flicking some water in his direction, “Anyways… I’m also sorry. For being too pushy and demanding too much from you. And for ruining this whole trip for everyone.”

“I wouldn’t say you ruined the trip, just… confused the shit out of everyone, maybe?” He tries to reason, voice a little doubtful. You’re aware of how your little jealous stints made the mood a little sour for everyone, and you feel remorseful for letting such negativity consume you. Love really made you do the unthinkable.

“Jealousy is a bitch, I’ll say that.”

“Jealousy? Were you jealous?” Mark asks, curiosity splattered on his face, “Jealous of wha— Oh. No way…”

Mark has a stupid little grin on his face like he already has you all figured out, and you stubbornly, yet playfully, turn your back to him as you begin to tread back to the other end of the pool to try and get him to follow you. Maybe hug you from behind. Kiss your neck or whatever. You’d leave that for him to decide.

A giggle leaves your mouth as you hear the water swishing from behind you. You keep going until you reach the border and when you twist your body to rest your back against it, Mark is hot on your tail, immediately caging you in between his arms.

“Jealous, uh?” He’s coming across as cocky, and given the circumstances you were now, it was far from making you annoyed or turned off.

“Yeah,” You breathe out, focusing on the droplets of water gliding from his neck to his collarbones. This game was getting dangerous. “What about it?”

“What were you jealous of?” He begins, taking another step towards you until you were chest to chest. “Or let me rephrase that. Who were you jealous of?”

You’re beginning to like seeing this new side of Mark. The Mark who unveiled what he was thinking and feeling free instead of masking it behind a façade of confusion. It was making you unravel a lot more from within yourself as well, the way you were reacting to his advances and stance just proved even further the extent of your emotional and romantic involvement. 

“You were all cosy with Doyeon during the whole trip. It was so annoying.”

“Okay, first of all, Doyeon and I grew up together.”

“That’s even worse,” You roll your eyes and Mark is feeling so inexplicably elated over seeing you express something as ordinary as jealousy that he decides to be ballsy and grab you by the waist. He ought to compensate you somehow. 

The blush dusting your cheeks makes it worth it.

“I only like one person, and that’s you,” He rasps, heart skipping a beat when you put your hands on his shoulders, feel the sturdiness of his muscles.

“I know now,” You say, caressing the nape of his neck as you look up to him, a fond smile on your lips. Mark feels so overwhelmed with the urge to kiss you. Kissing you had always plagued him, but now when it was just a breath’s away he felt dizzy with the anticipation of it really happening.

“Can I—”

You don’t even give him the chance to finish his prompt, for you take the initiative and kiss him yourself, too thirsty for something you were sure you were never going to get tired of.

Mark’s lips are exactly what you had always dreamed about being, yet more at the same time. They’re soft and supple and timid, and you don’t really mind taking the lead, spanning your hand across his jaw and tilting it to the side so you can deepen the kiss. You’ve been waiting for the opportunity of properly kissing him since what feels like forever, it shows in how you press yourself against him desperately, turn him around so he’s the one being pinned against the wall.

That seems to shake him out of his shy reverie: he poises his hand against your throat to keep you in place as the rush finally kicks in and he begins to take over, tearing a gasp from you at the sudden change in dynamics. He hums low in his throat then, using it as an opportunity to add his tongue to the mix, bravado fuelled by the desperate nature of the moment.

When the heat of finally being able to kiss each other dies down, the kisses become slow and languid, the touches delicate and sweet rather than frantic and wild, until you both stop completely to catch your breath. 

“Shit,” Mark is heaving as he starts laughing crazily, “If this is a dream I’m going to be so fucking pissed.”

You begin to pepper pecks all over his face to prove a point, “This isn’t a dream, Mark Lee. We like each other.”

“And had one hell of a kiss in the middle of the night at a pool. This is going to be a cool story to tell. After I tell the New Year’s Eve one.”

“First off, this was our first kiss.” You retort, grabbing his cheeks in between your fingers to shut him up when he starts protesting, “That will not account as a first kiss, it was a sad, sad attempt at demonstrating how much I liked you.”

“I can’t believe it didn’t dawn on me back then that you liked me back.” Mark snorts in disbelief, “What can be more clear than a kiss? Jesus Christ.”

“I was honestly disappointed but not surprised, coming from you. Such a dense, dumb ass person.”

“Take it back!” He starts tickling you in retaliation, the giggles coming out of your mouth so loudly you were sure you were going to wake someone up. But that didn’t matter at the moment, the unavoidable sweetness of the occasion is all you could think about.

You and Mark eventually get out of the pool when you notice your fingers get pruney, which in hindsight should have happened way before it did. He goes inside to fetch two towels while you sit on the little deck with your legs crossed, looking at the sky before you and wondering how a little over an hour ago you were looking at the same exact spot plagued with the opposite mindset of the one you had now.

He drapes the fluffy towel over your shoulders and sits right to your left, knees knocking against yours as he gets comfortable. His hair is sticking up in every possible direction and when he turns his head to look at you you notice how dull his skin looks and the tired under-eye circles, an exact match to yours. If this was another time before now, you would feel the itch to smoothen your thumb against them yet refrain yourself from doing so, but this isn’t the then, it’s the now and you no longer feel anxious about acting upon your desires. So you do as you wish and when Mark grabs your wrist to kiss it absentmindedly, you feel like nothing in the world could ever bring you down from the state of mind you were going through.

You and Mark stay together outside just until your underwear stops sticking obscenely to your body, not even saying anything to each other. The comfort in being around someone in complete silence, namely the person you love, warms you to your very core like there’s a fire gradually burning in the pit of your stomach, not strong enough to hurt you but not soft enough to go unnoticed.

“Mark?” You say when Mark slides the patio door open to go inside. He turns back to look at you with that facial expression you had grown to love instead of hate, the one where it truly looked like he was unreadable. 

“Lord knows if I wait for you to do this I’ll be fifty before it happens.” You laugh dryly, gaining momentum and courage, “Do you— Will you be my boyfriend?” 

His eyes widen in response and he stays frozen in place, much like what happened in the car. This was not happening again, not on your watch. “Are you having another mental breakdown? What I meant was— Do you… Do you like me enough to maybe like, want to date me?”

The cogs in Mark’s brain kick back to life the moment your voice becomes small as if you’re beginning to feel uneasy and uncertain about the situation. He really needs to work on how he reacts to positive events.

“Shit, yeah— I, yeah. I do.” He says hurriedly, fumbling for the right words, “Let’s do this thing. Let’s date.”

You duck your head to hide your smile inside the towel, but Mark notices it either way. It makes him all fuzzy inside, cotton-candy hearted. 

“Okay,” You tiptoe quietly until you’re right in front of him, reach for the back of his neck so you can press a quick peck right on the lips. “Goodnight.”

Mark blushing at you kissing him is a wonderful sight you want to see repeatedly. 

Contrary to what you think, you don’t dream about anything at all. It’s like you’re now catching up to all of the sleep that you had lost in the past, blacking out the second your head hits the pillow.

You were now going back to reality, back to civilisation. Back to having a routine and a schedule and abiding by it. For the first time in a long time, you were actually looking forward to it. 

Since Mark was on your side.

Literally and figuratively. 

To the others, the fact that Mark and you are sitting next to each other in Jungwoo’s car on the way back home was just pure coincidence, but Jungwoo knows what’s up. In fact, he didn’t even need to do much digging. He was such a light sleeper he had woken up in the middle of the night due to some strange sounds coming from his backyard. At first, he was afraid someone had broken in, even going the extra mile to grab the baseball bat from the kitchen.

But when he peeked through the glass door leading to the outside, what he saw left him in a state of disarray for only a few seconds before it settled in and he saw you smiling, giggling, and Mark beaming at you. Deep down he always knew something was bound to happen between you two, and he didn’t know the extent of your circumstances, but he was glad whatever happened before now was a done deal. 

You deserved to be happy.

“No funny business back in there, ___.” Jungwoo says loudly, bumping his arm against Eunseo’s.

“What?!” You gasp, quietly sneaking away the hand you had inside of Mark’s hoodie pocket, “What are you even talking about…”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll talk later, missy.” He replies, amusement in his tone, “You better not complain ever again about Eunie and I being all up in each other’s business. I’ll revoke your best friend privileges right away. And you,” He glares at Mark, “No breaking my best friend’s heart unless you want to end up like a headless chicken.”

“I…” Mark gulps, his trademark bug eyes widened to the max, “Yes, sir.”

Everyone except Mark (and Vernon, who had fallen asleep the second his head hit the window) start laughing at his response and a few moments later he ends up joining in. He looks at you then, holds his hand in front of you expectingly, and when you interlock your fingers right in the middle of his, he ends up putting both your hands inside the hoodie pocket once again, a big, goofy smile plastered on his face as he drops his head against your shoulder, shuts his eyes close, and snuggles closer.

You peck his temple affectionally, because well, you loved him. A lot. You weren’t afraid of acknowledging it any longer, even if you hadn’t told Mark how deep your feelings ran for him, even if there was a possibility he took a little longer to come to that conclusion as well. You just really, really loved him and everything that entailed being in love with him. Your mind goes back to that time where you tried so desperately to root obstacles between the both of you, for you belittled yourself so much and put him in such a high pedestal, avoiding constantly the slightest chance of interacting with him. Mark wasn’t stuck up or anything of the sort, he had never been that kind of person. It wasn’t his fault your high school experience hadn’t been like his. It wasn’t his fault that he had what he had. And maybe it wasn’t your fault either, but you shouldn’t have assumed he’d be iffy about getting to know you. About becoming your friend. Because those were your insecurities coming afloat and projecting onto Mark what you wanted him to be, so it would be easier for you to detach yourself from him, to not sympathise or like him.

Well, you had failed miserably at that. Gladly so.

You could only be a dumb ass for so long.

“You’re late.” 

“The bus—”

Mark sighs, “The bus arrived earlier than you expected. I know.” 

“Yeah,” You beam at him, kissing him softly. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.” He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, “Let’s go, the guys are waiting for us.”

You grab his hand as both of you start walking from the bus stop to Jungwoo’s apartment. “We’re still leaving after the movie ends, right?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” He bumps his shoulder lightly into yours teasingly, “You’ve been so frisky lately, Jesus Christ. Can’t wait until you have me all to yourself, uh?”

“Mark!” You gasp, stopping in your tracks to hit him in the chest. He giggles at your feeble attempt at hurting him, “Okay, let’s not go to my house later, then.”

“Noooooo,” He whines, enveloping you in his arms and tightening them so you can’t leave, “I was only joking. You know I, uh… I like it when we’re alone.”

“You seem to like it too much if I remember correctly.”

Three months had flown by in the blink of an eye, so quickly you didn’t even realise it until Mark texted you one day with a screenshot of Lovedays, an app that showed how many days you had been dating with your significant other, and the number 100 was staring right back at you. A lot had happened in the span of that time since it was the first relationship for the both of you a lot of trial and error had taken place during the first weeks. That pent up flame you felt had been completely let out that time at the pool, which was followed up by a bit (read: a lot) of the awkwardness of navigating through intimacy and sentimentality for the first time.

Especially when Mark’s so clumsy and his brain runs one hundred miles an hour. But you had gotten used to it. Just like he had gotten used to your incessant rants about what you’re learning in your most interesting class, even if they leave him confused 99% of the times. Mark said you confused him in general.

You called it compromising.

“Shh…” He puts his hand across your mouth, “You’re being too loud.”

You strike back by putting your tongue out and licking his palm and he yelps in surprise, pulling it back, “Oh, now you don’t want to talk about it.”

He goes back to holding your hand“, You know I’m not very vocal about… that stuff.”

“Oh, you’re vocal alright, Mark Lee.”

“La, la, la!” He screams childishly, and you roll your eyes playfully at his antics, “I can’t hear you!”

When you arrive at Jungwoo’s, only Eunseo is there, as per usual. While getting a boyfriend had changed some of the dynamics in your life, some things would never change, like your friends scheming into making you arrive on time. Or three-way hugging Jungwoo and Eunseo in a way Mark never understood how it was done, yet respected. 

Or how college was proving itself to be the best timeframe of your life. 

Sure, things weren’t perfect, though we can’t expect them to be something that isn’t by all means achievable. You still had a long way to go, growing up and maturing was a never-ending process and every day that went by you learned something new either about the world or yourself.

Yet the very imperfectness of it all was what made it all worth it. In spite of every trial and tribulation that life had thrown or was going to throw at you, you’d face it with vigour and strength.

Because you were happy. 

[jrmkuzuri]

Jonathan Joestar (hero) ANALYSIS

ALL RANKINGS WILL HAVE A 5 POINT SYSTEM  ( THERE MAY BE SOME SPOILERS, SO SPOILER WARNING!) I WILL LINK ALL OF MY REFERENCES/ SOURCES . ALL RANKINGS (1) BACKSTORY (2) PERSONALITY (3) ABILITIES (4)  APPEARANCE (5)  MOTIVATION (6)  CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT 

(1) BACKSTORY: 

   The son of George Joestar I, Jonathan is an honest, kind and positive man whose life is fraught with tragedy after meeting his adopted older brother, Dio Brando. In his battle against Dio, Jonathan becomes a Ripple user under the tutelage of the master Will Anthonio Zeppeli.  4/5 

(2)PERSONALITY 

  “ He's not just looks and clothes, but a real honest-to-god gentleman... I like it! “  —Speedwagon  (Jonathan was proud and mischievous, yet gentle. Despite already aspiring to be a "true gentleman", Jonathan lacked manners and mostly behaved like a normal child. His mother having died before he could remember her, and his fellow boys ostracizing him because of his status left Jonathan somewhat lonely. While at first, Jonathan didn't have his future strength of will, Dio unwittingly became the catalyst of his growth by pushing him to the edge and humiliating his then girlfriend Erina Pendleton. However, he did have the kindness and courage to immediately jump to Erina's rescue against two bullies bigger than him despite not knowing her. JoJo is determined to rid the world of Dio's evil First and foremost, Jonathan strives to become his definition of a "true gentleman" as he carries his Joestar name with pride, never betraying the code of conduct he has set for himself and will treat any fellow human with respect unless they prove evil.  Jonathan also possesses a fierce inner strength and the drive to face and overcome conflict, which Dio calls an "explosive power". That drive, fueled by his affection to his friends and loved ones, enabled him to overcome the direst situations, notably managing to save his wife Erina when their boat was overcome with zombies and he was fatally hit in the throat. Jonathan fights for what he believes in, and once he is committed to something, he won't back down until the deed is done. During his journey to find a cure for his father's illness, he was ambushed by a band of misfit hoodlums. He did not so much as flinch as he grasped an assailant's knife within his hand, saying he had much more riding on the fight than merely four fingers.  As a gentleman, Jonathan is also kind and positive. Jonathan has a mindset where he tries to imagine the consequences his actions would have on other people, even if they appear to be enemies. He is gentle and sympathetic, feeling pain even as he vanquishes a zombified copper. Despite his skill in fighting, he will never seriously harm a person without a valid reason. Even after everything Dio has done, Jonathan still considers him his brother, and sheds tears for him. His courteous nature as well as his mental fortitude and ability to withstand fear and pain, is the main reason Speedwagon decides to aid him on his journey. During his life, Jonathan has always had an impulse to save others, beginning with Erina, and ending with his thought of a nearby baby just as he was agonizing from Dio's attack. Yet Jonathan can feel righteous fury at the evilness of his foes, and will conduct justice by vanquishing them. He admitted that his reason for fighting Dio wasn't out of duty for saving the world, but to avenge his loved ones that Dio had killed. Moreover, he has no pity for truly despicable individuals he is not familiar with such as Doobie. With his courage and spirit, Jonathan sets a legacy as the first JoJo of the series.Fascinated with the Stone Mask, Jonathan tried to study it and even took on the path of archaeology. However, not having thought of putting in on anyone, Jonathan didn't discover its true purpose himself. 5/5 

(3) ABILITIES:  

 Athleticism - Jonathan had lived a rough past as the son of an aristocrat, and was known in his childhood to have been at least a competent boxer. In his college life, he played Rugby alongside Dio Brando, and was revered as one of the two stars of Hugh Hudson Academy.Even prior to learning the Ripple, Jonathan was able to hold his own against three thugs, Speedwagon among them, with sheer might and willpower. He was capable of wielding various weaponry held by the suits of armor in the Joestar Mansion. He had also performed incredible feats of strength, such as jumping from the hilt of a sword and hoisting himself up to the second floor while doing a flip over the guardrails, despite his arm being inhibited by a spear pierced into his pectorals. Perhaps his greatest display of strength was after being revitalized and empowered by Zeppeli's Ultimate Deep Pass Overdrive, where he ripped through 3 steel bars clutching his neck, a feat that even the mighty zombie Tarkus outright admitted he was incapable of.  

 Intelligence - Jonathan is shown to be an intelligent person and a very competent thinker during battles, constantly coming up with new strategies mid-combat to defeat foes such as Bruford and Dio. Academically, Jonathan graduated from university after having written a celebrated thesis in archaeology. He has meticulously studied the Stone Mask, going as far as identifying the spots in the brain it would pierce,but didn't discover its true purpose himself.In a fight, Jonathan is adept at thinking of moves on the spot and using the environment to his advantage. On several occasions, Jonathan was quick to formulate plans even in a moment of crisis. Still recovering from the loss of his father, Jonathan had to fight a vampirized Dio, and quickly thought about burning down the Joestar Mansion in order to bring Dio down. Likewise, agonizing from a wound in the throat (which also led to a loss of oxygen going to his brain), Jonathan managed to use his last Ripple on Wang Chan to dispose of a horde of zombies and Dio at the same time by controlling Wang Chan's body to make the boat explode. Jonathan even notably used his belt as a supplementary whip before ever acquiring the Ripple, as well exploited the fact that Windknight's Lot was a coal mining town to deduce that a lake would have air pockets at its bottom to surprise Bruford with an unexpected production of Ripple. 

Ripple

Jonathan has an arsenal of ancient martial art techniques, most inherited from Will A. Zeppeli and involving Ripple, at his disposal. Some are his original creation, each ending with "Overdrive". 

Zoom Punch (ズームパンチ Zūmu Panchi): Jonathan launches his fist forward and strikes his opponent. First used by Zeppeli, the attack involves a Ripple breathing technique that dislocates and stretches the joints to extend the arm and give it greater reach while also using the same Ripple to dull the pain caused by the move. Due to the increased length, the strike immediately reaches the opponent's face first, which from that perspective seems "zoomed in."

Sendo Ripple Overdrive (仙道波紋疾走オーバードライブ Sendō Hamon ShissouŌbādoraibu): Jonathan charges a Ripple wave through his arm and releases it into a solid object, such as a wall or partition. The Ripple can travel through and reach anything on the other side, and anything hit by the Ripple is sent flying in a spiral. If the enemy is an Undead, the Ripple will enter their bloodstream and destroy them from the inside. 

Scarlet Overdrive (緋色の波紋疾走スカーレットオーバードライブ Hiiro no Hamon ShissouSukāretto Ōbādoraibu): Charging the Ripple into one hand, Jonathan can create a Ripple of flame. He is able to transfer over this flame to another part of his body, and anything that touches that body part has a chance of catching fire.

Underwater Turquoise Blue Overdrive (水中のための青縁波紋疾走ターコイズブルーオーバードライブ Suichū no Tame no Aomidori Hamon ShissouT��koizu Burū Ōbādoraibu): Appropriately the strongest place to use the Ripple, Jonathan can release high powered tempests while underwater with enough force to blast enemies away. In most cases, a good portion of the water is propelled outward as well, draining something like a lake to waist-high depth.

Overdrive Barrage (波紋疾走オーバードライブ連打 Hamon ShissouŌbādoraibu Renda): When Jonathan jabs fast enough consecutively, he can release multiple Overdrives at once. 

Metal Silver Overdrive (銀色の波紋疾走メタルシルバーオーバードライブ Giniro no Hamon ShissouMetaru Shirubā Ōbādoraibu): Essentially the same as a Sendo Ripple Overdrive, but with the ability of transferring through metal.

Life Magnetism Overdrive (生命磁気への波紋疾走オーバードライブ Seimei jiki e no Hamon ShissouŌbādoraibu): With the aid of Zeppeli, Jonathan can draw all the leaves in the immediate area and magnetize them together to form one giant leaf, which was used as an impromptu-hang glider. This move can be applied to most plants, and has the ability to revive them passively as well - as when Jonathan touched a dead tree branch with his newly Ripple-healed arm and restored its wilted flowers.

Sunlight Yellow Overdrive (山吹き色の波紋疾走サンライトイエローオーバードライブ！！ Yamabukiiro no Hamon ShissouSanraito Ierō Ōbādoraibu, Lit. "Bright Yellow Ripple Sprint"): His final and most memorable attack, first marked by Jonathan's words: "My heart resonates! The heat's enough to burn! The beat of my blood is razor-sharp!!" (ふるえるぞハート！燃えつきるほどヒート！！刻むぞ血液のビート！ Furueru zo hāto! Moetsukiru hodo hīto!! Kizamu zo, ketsueki no bīto!). It is a devastating and extremely rapid flurry of Ripple-infused punches with power comparable to the sun itself and has the ability to completely obliterate the Undead. 

Alongside the attacks, the Ripple has various other uses in combat. A skilled Ripple user such as Jonathan has the ability to walk on water, strengthen objects and increase their potency, increase jumping height, and much more.  Healing One of the main conveniences of the Ripple is the ability to heal the body to an extent. During his battle with Doobie, Jonathan was able to eject poison out of his bloodstream via Ripple transfusion. During his battle with Tarkus, he was also able to heal his broken neck after receiving the Supreme Pass Overdrive from Zeppeli. 

Luck and Pluck (幸運ラックと勇気プラック kōunRakku to YūkiPurakku): After his defeat, Brufordgave Jonathan his sword, which played a major role in the final battle against Dio, where Jonathan was able to counter Dio's freezing ability by infusing the sword with Ripple, in order to avoid direct contact with Dio's body. 

Hermit Purple-like Stand were due to a Stand power that awoke in Jonathan's body, Similar to Hermit Purple, it can produce a psychic photograph by smashing a camera, which Dio used to track the Joestars and their friends's current location to send Stand Users after them.

4/5 

(4) APPEARANCE 

 As an adult, Jonathan is a tall (195 cm/6'5"), extremely muscular individual with a gentlemen's poise. His typical attire tends to reflect his noble background, characterized by stylized tunics over long sleeve shirts. Reoccurring articles of clothing include a cravat, bow tie, thick boots and a vest. At home, Jonathan wears semi-formal attire consisting of a collared shirt, tie, and jacket with rolled up sleeves. During University Rugby matches, he wears a standard striped rugby shirt and pants with long socks. When he sets out to Ogre Street to find a cure for his father's illness, Jonathan dons an entirely new outfit made up of a padded jacket and pants, complete with a deerstalker cap and a long cloak. During his training with Zeppeli, he strips down to a stylized tank top with wristbands, and at some point a circlet.On his quest to Windknight's Lot, Jonathan dons a double layered tunic with a bowtie and Deerstalker cap. After his fight with Tarkus, he wears a close-fitted tank top with capped sleeves for the rest of the journey. In the anime, these sleeves are converted into shoulder pads. During his honeymoon and final encounter with Dio, he wears an ornate suit with a long tail over a collared shirt with straps on the shoulders, and a cravat. 4/5 

5)  MOTIVATION

Jojo’s motivation is avenging his father, his honor and defeating Dio. (Thanks Hanawriting) 5/5 

6)  CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

After finally defeating Dio, Jonathan watches as he falls from the tower into the unknown disintegrating piece by piece. Shedding a tear for his corrupt brother... Even though Dio had hurt Jonathan in the worst way possible, he would always have a special place in his heart. This action would prove that Jonathan was too pure for this world.  5/5 

Total  27/30 

Source: https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Jonathan_Joestar#:~:text=Adult%20Years,thick%20boots%20and%20a%20vest. 

[bxcksdoll]

Jet Lagged

Pairings: Thor x reader

Summary: Y/N has stayed at the Avengers Tower for while whist Thor has been staying in New Asguard. They haven’t seen each other in weeks and desperately miss each other.

Warnings: swearing

A/N: I had this idea because I’m still a little jet lagged haha and @xmarveled said I should write this (thank you so much for the support bby!!) so hope you guys enjoy :)

Three weeks. That was the amount of time you’d been away from him. Your boyfriend. Your love. Thor.

After the universe was saved from Thanos, you had some unfinished business to attend to back at the Avengers Tower; you hadn’t planned on it taking weeks - only one at most. Sadly, it had taken much longer than expected and you hadn’t been able to see Thor, in that time.

Thor had been in New Asguard helping Valkyrie in her new role as Queen. He had been supporting her this whole time whist he helped the people of New Asguard. You had exchanged messages back and forth, in the time you were separated. Mostly, Thor would be begging you to join him back in New Asguard and you would tell him, time after time, that you still had some work to do.

During the five years after the snap, you constantly moved back and forth from New York to New Asguard; you stayed with Thor but also had to help Natasha protect what was left of the world. The two of you, and also other Avengers scattered around the globe, managed the crime and justice on Earth. It was an extremely tiring job but it had to be done. Thor had tried to convince you that it wasn’t your responsibility but you couldn’t accept that; after losing most of your family, you felt it was your duty to continue to protect what was left.

After Thanos was defeated, you would have thought your work would die down a bit, however some mob gangs seemed to never tire. You promised Thor that you would take a break once you’d tracked down a gang, located in Colombia, with Natasha.

Thor, day after day, waited for you to finally give up working and come home to him. Dispite being among friends, in New Asguard, he always felt lonely when you left - as if a piece of him had left with you. He would never have told you, of course, because he didn’t want to be a burden on you.

Secretly, you and Natasha had finally confronted and arrested the gang but you hadn’t told Thor. You were on your way across the Atlantic Ocean to him, planning on surprising him. You felt rather guilty every time you left but told yourself that this time you wouldn’t leave his side - if you had to go back to New York you’d convince him to come with you. Both of you were sick of the long distance.

One of the main problems with the long distance was time zones; there was always 6 hours between the two of you and so you caught each other at different times. You’d wake up while he was asleep and he would wake up when you were busy working. Then, after you finished working he was usually doing his duties in New Asguard. Finally, you’d get to have a short convocation before you would end it by needing to sleep. That didn’t happen most days but more often than the two of you wished. But now you wouldn’t be stuck in different time zones - you’d be together and wouldn’t have to worry about it again.

Stepping off the plane, you winced at the sunlight burning painfully through your eye lids. In Norway it was 10am but, to you, it was 4am and you weren’t able to get any sleep on the plane.

When it came to flying, you could never sleep which had always been extremely inconvenient since you were always travelling between Norway and America. Jet lag was always a darkness looming above you - your sleep pattern was already fucked up and travelling fucked it up even more.

Moreover, after flying your head felt pressurised and dizzy while your stomach filled with painful knots. You dreaded the day when you would step on another plane.

As you arrived in Norway, your heart filled with utter content and enthusiasm to see Thor. At the airport, you jumped in a taxi and set off for New Asguard.

One of your favourite features of your home was the scenery - you never grew tired of it. The Scandinavian sights were breathtakingly idilic and, somewhat, Edenic. The atmosphere that surrounded the landscape was serene and yet overwhelmed your senses with passion and excitement.

Thor had placed New Asguard far away from any other villages or cities - he only wished for peace and calamity in his new found Haven. Therefore, it was quite a trek from the airport which wasn’t helpful to you as your eyelids kept dragging down during the car journey. However, the sun kept you awake, mercilessly

Most of the drive was a fight against your eyelids but, finally, you had arrived at New Asguard. Stepping out of the taxi, after paying, you were met with the smiling faces of Asguardians passing you by. Many greeted you, welcoming your unexpected return home.

You made your way through the villiage to the house you and Thor shared. Before you reached it, you spotted Valkyrie loading some crates into a truck.

“Hey, Val!” you shouted, waving as she turned at the sound of her name.

“...Y/N?” she replied, hesitantly. The two of you glided closer, sealing your greeting with a tight hug. “What are you doing here? Thor said you wouldn’t return for another week.”

“I wanted to surprise him,” you smiled at her.

“He’ll be thrilled,” she grinned back.

“I hope so,” you giggled while rubbing your, still droopy, eye lids. “Do you know where he is?”

“He’s playing video games with Korg and Meek again,” she rolled her eyes but then focused on you, seriousness apparent on her features. “Are you alright?”

“Me? Yeah I’m fine,” you yawned. “Just a little jet lagged I guess - it feels like 4am for me.”

“Oh, of course,” Valkyrie nodded. “Maybe you should get some sleep before seeing Thor - he can be very loud and irritating,” she joked.

“That’s a good idea,” you laughed as she accompanied you over to the little hut Thor always hung out with Korg and Meek in.

You and Valkyrie stopped at the door and she knocked loudly. Soon after, a familiar voice was heard from inside.

“I told you to leave me alone this morning, Valkyrie, I’m busy here!” The shout came. You and Valkyrie exchanged a smug look and she gestured for you to go inside.

Slowly and cautiously, you opened the door as Valkyrie followed behind you.

“I have someone here to see you, Thor. Someone I know you’d very much like to see,” she called from behind you as the two of you, quietly walked over the heaps of trash on the floor.

“There’s no one I wish to see! Send them away!” Thor commanded, in a frustrated voice.

Finally, stepping into the room you took notice of Thor, Korg and Meek playing together on some video game with mountains of junk food around them. Thor was sat in a pair of sweatpants and socks; he was shirtless as his protruding stomach - which he was usually so self-conscious about - exposed itself. None of the three even bothered to glance up at you or Valkyrie.

“You wouldn’t send me all the way back to New York, now would you?” you smirked, leaning against the door frame.

Thor’s head shot up at your voice. He dropped his game controller with a thud and lunged himself out of his chair, towards you. He captured you in his arms, picking you off the floor and peppering kisses all over your face.

“I’ve missed you with all my heart, Y/N! I can’t believe you’re here!” he yelled, causing your head to ache due to the loud, unexpected noise. Valkyrie was right, maybe you should have slept before seeing Thor.

“I’ve missed you too, sweetie,” you giggled.

As he placed you back down, you held his handsome face in your hands and brought his lips to yours in a hungry, passionate kiss that you had both longed for for weeks. He moaned against your mouth, his tongue savouring every inch of yours he could get.

As you broke apart for breath, you heard Korg mumble, “maybe we should leave these two love birds alone, eh, Meek?”

Thor turned to them, thanking the two and Valkyrie as well. After they left, he turned back to you, placing his large hand on your delicate cheek. You were so precious to him - his whole world.

For a moment, all his attention was on you until he realised he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “Oh,” he mumbled and brought his arms around his stomach to cover himself slightly. Even after all these years together, he was still insecure when you saw him like this.

“Thor, what are you doing?” you squinted, trying to remove his arms from his stomach.

“Nothing,” he smiled. “I’m just a little underdressed for you, that’s all.”

“Sweetie, please don’t be embarrassed. I love you for who you are and I don’t mind how you look! We’ve been over this, Thor,” you assured him, placing your arms around the back of his neck.

This made Thor perk up slightly, grinning down at you. “Thank you, Y/N. You always know exactly what to say, my love.”

You smiled up at him as he brought his face down to yours and rested his forehead upon yours. Your noses touched and your heart soared from this loving, physical connection.

The two of you closed your eyes in content and comfort, finally reunited. However, you closed your eyes in more than content - you were so relaxed that your eyelids had finally lost the determined fight to stay awake. As you drifted off, your body moved closer to Thor’s as your legs went limp. Luckily, Thor caught you just in time as your body pressed flat against his. He held you in his arms and supported you while shaking your shoulders.

“Uh, Y/N?” he asked, in confusion.

“What?” you snapped awake, eyes wide.

“You fell asleep,” Thor laughed, quirking an eyebrow.

“What are you talking about? No I didn’t,” you lied, your eyes starting to feel droopy again.

“Yes you did, you just fell onto me,” Thor chuckled as you almost fell again. “You’re jet lagged, aren’t you?”

You hesitated, scoffing at his words. Then, you looked silently at him as your features lost their smile. “Maybe just a little bit,” you croaked.

Thor chuckled, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Come, let’s get you onto the sofa.” He guided you towards it but you refused to move, shaking your head ferociously.

“No, this place stinks! I don’t wanna sleep on that filthy thing!” you argued and Thor laughed.

“Then can you walk from here to the house?” he questioned.

“Of course I can. It’s not that far away from here,” you replied, waving a hand in the air.

“Alright, then,” Thor chuckled, once again, and let go of you. For a moment, you felt as though you could crumble to the floor but then repositioned your posture and began walking out the door - more like stumbling.

Thor followed behind you, shaking his head in laughter. “I can’t watch this.” Just then, he moved in front of you, ducking down and picking you up by your legs proceeding to throw you over his shoulder.

“Thor!” you laughed. “I’m fine, honestly,” you defended.

“No you’re not. I’m not going to let you fall over. Instead, I’m going to take you home and make sure you’re alright.” His words made your stomach flood with butterflies.

“I’ve missed this,” you mumbled as he carried you down the cobbled paths of New Asguard.

Tag list: @xmarveled

[multifandom-panda]

HOW CHIBNALL PISSED ME OFF

I have been away from Tumblr for years, but here I am now. The reason for my return is simple: Chibnall pissed me off and Facebook is not the right place for a a rant like the one you are going to read. Posting it on twitter would make more sense, you say? Probably. But I have no time to count words. I will start with why I had high expectantions on Chibanl and then I will explain how he shuttered every single one of them. 

1. When I heard Chibnall was coming after Moffat I was happy. I have always had that twisted relationship with Doctor Who where I loved the adventures, the adrenaline, the jokes, the discoveries, the aliens, but I also loved the feels and angst that came with the Companions and the Master. I had seen Broadchurch, so I “knew” Chibnall, I was sure enough he would not mess around. I was so wrong

2. Female!Doctor. Not a fan. Nu-uh. I have never felt the need for a female Doctor. There were plenty of great female characters in Doctor Who, both in the Classic era and the New era. Every single one of them had their own personality, their own skills and flaws. It was great, because they were actually people. Doctor Who was the first show that I watched where I didn’t get annoyed by female characters. They were strong in their own ways, and that didn’t mean being a super killing machine without special fighting skills. They were real and they were fundamental. Without them the Doctor lost his moral compass and we saw that more than once. So no, I didn’t need a female Doctor, I was alreay represented by amazing women in the show who were not less important than him. Moreover, I have no problem feeling represented by a man, I mean... men are still people, they have feelings and I am capable of understanding that. It’s called empathy. I am not so stupid that I cannot relate to a character only because they don’t have my genitalia. 

3. Lack of imagination. Another problem I have with a female Doctor is the same I have when authors remake characters, when they change gender or ethnicity to a character to give people representation. It’s insulting. You are basically saying that you are not capable of creating a new character for that minority (being women, an ethnic group or disabled people) without using a pre-existing character. It means that in your head, to detach yourself from the negative stereotypes, you need a white male model because you are not able to imagine a minority character without those flaws on your own.

4. Companions: Graham was fun compared to Ryan and Yaz, but if we compare the Companions to the older ones, the new ones lose. And lose real bad. They left me nothing. They characterization is non-existent, they follow the Doctor and that’s it. Ryan should have disability but it appears only when the screenwriter remembers. Meh. I don’t have much to say about them, they really didn’t left any impression on me. I was not fond of Martha and I can list reasons why, I couldn’t stand Clara and I can go on 30 minutes saying why. These new ones are just... meh.

5. The Doctor. I didn’t see him... her... them. Let’s start with a note: I saw Jodie in Broadchurch and I didn’t like her there, so when I found out she was going to be the new Doctor, I was not amazed. If it had to be a woman, I would have preferred someone else, but anyway. This Doctor didn’t have any special features, it just looked like an hyped 10 or 11, but without their depth. Kind is an adjective, not a character trait. I feel that her character was not studied enough, she didn’t have enough depth. It got better with the beginning of this new season but honestly? You can’t be able to write a character properly only when they face their nemesis. 

6. The episodes. Oh. My. God. The first season of this new Doctor was a series of episodes that looked like they jumped out of the 60s. Teaching people through an entertainment show doesn’t mean you have to take the show, make an episode on whatever the problem you want to discuss is and make some sort of documentary about it. It means you try to explain to people through fun, adventures, analogies... those who watch DW now are not 6 years old. They know that if you show them a genocide on another planet with segregation, spaceships etc, you are telling them not to be racist assholes. They do not need Rosa Parks to give them a lecture. Episode in which appears a villain with an unkown objective and we don’t see ever again, but ok. 

7. The cherry on top. The timeless children. What. The. Actual. Fuck. So Chibnall just decided to take 60 years of TV show and toss it into the garbage can, right? That was the purpose, right? Because otherwise I don’t see it. So the Doctor is a creature from another planet, not Gallifrey, who can regenerate. The Gallifreyan see them, think “oh nice” and go all Frankenstein on them. Noice. I have just a teeny tiny itsy bitsy problem with that. And for one I mean so many that they are more than the leaves on the trees in the Amazon forest. You are nullifying “End of time”, “This is Gallifrey”, the 50th anniversary... moreover Clara saw their past, she would have seen that something was off. They can’t remember? Fine. But it’s still there, it’s not like they transplanted their brain. 

8. The name of the Doctor. The big secret. The name that must never be spoken. The name that was keeping the universe together... and they revealed it like that. Brendan? Really? The name of the Doctor was a legend, you were not supposed to name them for real! Brendan? SERIOUSLY?

9. Doctor and Master. They were friends since they were kids. They grew up together. They studied together. They went on adventures together. They lost friends together. They grew apart and they kept fighting each other... but they were best enemies. Ok, a couple of times one really killed/let the other die, but go back to the beginning and count those times. They were two faces of the same coin, getting on each other nerves and saving each other over and over again. For the Doctor, the Master was the only other Time Lord in the universe for so long he was willing to pardon a genocide to save him (more than once). Their relationship was based on the fact that in a way they were complementary: the Master has no restraints, while the Doctor tries to be good when they both have done so many terrible things (including genocide, eh Doctor? You are not so innocent, honey). Their relationship was beautiful and painful. And it went down the drain. You are telling me that the Doctor is a superior being, they are not equals anymore, they are not two faces of the same coin, they are not even the same species so what are we talking about? And the coldness of the Doctor while she lets him die? Who the hell are you?

TL;DR Chibnall took a character I loved from a show I loved and torn it apart. The season and the characters were not written as I expected, I mean that they were 2D version of themselves, no depth there. Nothing interesting. I think he tried too much all at once: female Doctor, 3 companions, one shot episodes. Man, pick one thing you want to change and stick with it. You already have to run a show you have never run before, so you have to understand how to make it work. 4 characters are difficult to handle all at once and at the same time give them all the right space, depth and characterization in seasons that have less than 15 episodes each.

I am so pissed. I didn’t appreciate Jodie, but in a little corner of my mind I had always tought I would come back to Doctor Who once she was gone, but that’s not possible anymore. Funny thing is, this show made me meet the majority of my friends, the people with whom I started hanging our 6 years ago. We would have never met without DW probably. I kind of feel robbed now.

[impracticaldemon]

The Other Man’s Princess

Ikesen fanfiction by impracticaldemon ~ for acrispyapple, with thanks and best wishes, and for Vespe, Yuuki, and all my other Kenshin-fan friends!

Words:  5800 [Note:  about Kenshin, based on an incident in Masamune’s route]

Coming soon to AO3 and FFnet [but tumblr isn’t kind to links]

Summary:  Kenshin chooses not to kill Date Masamune when the enemy warlord is saved from imminent disaster by the unexpected arrival of the rumoured Oda princess.  The princess’ willingness to protect Date at all costs--and the fact that his enemy is obviously fighting injured--ruins the whole thing.  But what if somebody else wants to save Kenshin?

~~~~~

The Other Man’s Princess

Anna had known it would be a difficult battle.  She might not have the years of experience of the men and women around her, but she was observant, and it hadn’t taken her long to learn to read the signs.  At first, she’d only been able to gauge a situation by looking at the local inhabitants as a whole:  were the men cocky, serious, or grim? were the women resigned, tight-lipped, or overtly anxious?  After almost a year in the Sengoku—and a hard, dangerous year it had been, until recently—she was much better at understanding the nuances of war, and she noticed more subtle tells, such as increases in the price of food, and fewer merchants in the marketplace.

Sasuke arrived back at the castle first, as he usually did, to bring news to the reserve commander, Kurata, and to her.  She’d noticed he was troubled almost immediately, even though his first message was that Kenshin was safe, and that the troops were withdrawing in good order.  Apparently, the Oda had been able to bring up their reinforcements faster than expected, which meant abandoning the conflict for another day, when the Uesugi-Takeda forces had grown stronger.

“It was pretty bad out there,” Sasuke told her confidentially, once he’d given his formal report. “I’m glad Yukimura decided to retreat.  Lord Kenshin was—well, he was as unstoppable as ever—but the joint Date-Tokugawa cavalry had already targeted him once, and they would have gone after him again once the rest of the Oda forces arrived.”  His gaze became unfocussed for a moment, and he sighed.  “I would never say this to my employer—or to Yukimura—but it was pretty amazing seeing Tokugawa Ieyasu and Toyotomi Hideyoshi on the battlefield together, near the height of their powers.”

Normally, Anna would have smiled knowingly at his absurd-but-genuine adoration of the Sengoku superstars, but she could tell that he was worried about Kenshin, and that made her impatient.  She waved a hand in front of Sasuke’s face.

“Hey—ninja boy!”  She raised both eyebrows, and gave him a very direct, ‘stop-stalling’ look.  “I know you have to get back there—you always do—so you might as well tell me what you didn’t tell Lord Kurata.”

His eyes slid sideways for a moment, as they usually did when he was thinking, or embarrassed, or both, but they returned shortly to meet hers.  Sasuke’s expression rarely changed much, but she’d learned to tell the difference between excited-stoic and worried-stoic. This was definitely the latter.

“At some point during the battle, Lord Kenshin took off on his own, as he does, and he and Date Masamune ended up in a one-on-one duel—which is actually very rare, despite what you see in movies and stage plays.”  He paused, caught Anna’s expression, and hurried on.  “Anyway, I missed what led up to it, but I was in time to see the conclusion.”

“You were hurrying to Kenshin’s side to protect him, of course.  I’m sure it wasn’t just an opportunity to see two of the great swordsmen of the era in personal combat.”  Mentally, she face-palmed—hadn’t she just told Sasuke to skip the fanboy stuff?  It had to be nerves.

“…There may have been an element of extreme personal excitement—after all, Uesugi Kenshin and Date Masamune never met like that in our timeline.”

“Sure—go on.” 

“Just as I was approaching, Lord Kenshin disarmed Lord Masamune, who appeared to be injured. It looked like Lord Kenshin was going to kill Lord Masamune, but then an Oda soldier suddenly jumped out of the grass waving a rifle, and distracted Lord Kenshin by yelling at him to stop.  As you probably know, Lord Kenshin isn’t easy to distract when he’s fighting—or not for very long. But this time he stopped cold, because the voice was clearly a woman’s.”

“A woman?  Nobody ever lets me go off to Kenshin’s battles—not that I want to be in them.”

They exchanged a look.  Sasuke shrugged semi-apologetically; Anna shrugged in acceptance.  Kenshin would never want her anywhere near such a battle, and she knew enough, after two months of getting closer to him, not to push him too far when it came to her safety.  He was a wonderful, caring, fascinating—devastatingly beautiful—man, but he had wounds that she was still figuring out how to heal.  Patience and steadfastness were what he needed, and once she’d decided he was worth it—very early on, in fact—she’d thrown herself into the joy and the trials of being there for him.  

~~~

She’d originally met Kenshin in a town about a day’s ride from Kasugayama.  He’d rescued her from two brutish ronin who were intent on dragging her off as punishment for standing up to them on behalf of an elderly shopkeeper.  Kenshin had refused her thanks, but although he’d seemed cold—even rude—there’d been a quality about him, beyond his obvious beauty, that had drawn her in.  When he’d saved her from the same two men just a few days later, he’d criticized her survival skills, but he’d calmly walked her home, and he’d slowed his pace to hers.  More than that, he’d told her to be herself with the people around her, something she’d somehow forgotten how to do since being dumped into the Sengoku three months before.  It had been exactly the advice she’d needed, and she’d been grateful.

Not long after, she’d met Sasuke, who’d been shocked to discover another “future person” so close by.  He’d offered to bring her to Kasugayama, where it was safer and more comfortable, and she’d had little reason to refuse, and at least one good reason to accept.  In fact, she hadn’t been altogether surprised to discover that Kenshin had arranged for Sasuke to check up on her in the first place. Moreover, Kenshin hadn’t seemed to mind Sasuke’s seemingly abrupt decision to bring her to the castle, despite his reputation as a woman-hater.  She and Kenshin had spoken often since then, although Kenshin always came up with specific reasons for seeking her out, much to the amusement of his ally Takeda Shingen.

~~~

“…Yes, it was definitely a woman, based on the voice and hair.  She was pretty well disguised by her armour, but”—Sasuke stopped and held out a hand, as if to say, I’m so sorry, please don’t kill me—“she was awfully short for a samurai.”

He looked at her hopefully.  It took her a long moment to catch the reference, but then she groaned.

“Star Wars, Sasuke?  Really?  And that’s a really obscure reference.  You’re lucky my undergrad was science, honestly.”

“The original Star Wars movies are a key part of geek culture, sorry.  I guess she kind of reminded me of Princess Leia.  Though I suppose a Lord of the Rings reference would be more appropriate—you know, ‘I am no man!’ and all that.”

“Sasuke—”

“Lord Kenshin just stared at the woman, totally ignoring Date Masamune.  But she—well, she tried to shoot him.”

“But—you said he was fine!  Or did she miss?  I’m impressed she could shoot one of those old matchlocks, actually.”  And I am not feeling competitive.  At all.

“Lord Masamune rushed in and somehow managed to deflect the shot—actually knocked the barrel of the rifle up. He’s fast.”

“I don’t understand.  Why would he protect his enemy?  Was it some kind of dumb chauvinist thing?  You know—'can’t let a woman kill my enemy for me’?”

Sasuke gave her an odd look.  “Well…” he said slowly, as though feeling out his words, “you know how I said there’s a person like us living in Azuchi?”

“Yes… You mean it was her?!  And she tried to protect Date Masamune by shooting Kenshin?!”

Sasuke looked as unemotional as usual, but she was pretty sure it was a façade.

“It was an interesting event from a time-travel, or alternate universe, perspective.  A person who shouldn’t be there tries to kill a man who should already be dead—er, sorry if that was tactless.”  Sasuke blinked apologetically, but added, “And she does it for the sake of a man who died five hundred years before she was born.  You can imagine how I felt.”

“No.  No, I really don’t think I can.  What happened next?”

“I think Lord Kenshin was… very disturbed… by the fact that there was a woman there in front of him, clearly prepared to kill, and also, well…”

“Prepared to die?”

“Yes.”

All at once, Anna could imagine how the strange scenario must have affected Kenshin, and it suddenly became far more important to see him—to reassure him—than to hear all the details.  Especially with Sasuke’s unique editorial commentary. No matter how bizarre it was that another time-traveller had tried to kill the man Anna loved, during a battle that had never taken place in Anna’s—or the other woman’s—own history, the important thing was that Kenshin was probably hurting.

“Okay, just give me the gist of the rest, Sasuke.”

“Lord Masamune said he was ready to keep fighting, but Lord Kenshin put his sword away and walked off.  He said the fight wasn’t fun anymore, so he was letting them go.  I didn’t want to make things more tense, so I didn’t intrude.  Not that I left him alone, of course.  I made sure somebody brought him a horse.  But… he had that smile.”

“So Kenshin’s on his way home right now?”

“Yes.  This all happened yesterday.  I left mid-afternoon to report back here.  I thought… I thought you might want to know about it ahead of time.”

“Yes, good—thank you, Sasuke.” It came out sounding abrupt, so she tried again.  “I mean it: thank you.  You’re a good friend, and an amazing ninja.”

“Yeah, that’s me.  Your friendly neighbourhood spider-ninja.”  

The words sounded oddly lonely, instead of cheerful, but she let it go. She had reviewed her options, and made her decision.  “I’m going with you, Sasuke.  Don’t bother to argue.”

“…He’s not hurt, Anna.  I promise, if he needed medical help, I’d have told you.”  Anna had medical training, and had been working hard to learn Sengoku-era medicine—although it consisted mostly of inefficient herb-lore, last-ditch surgery, and opium, from what she could see.  At least Japanese doctors believed in cleanliness, unlike their European counterparts of the same century. And to be fair, a good doctor could diagnose and treat wounds, and set bones, and alleviate the effects of certain illnesses.  

“I think he is hurt, and I think you know it.”  She fixed him with what she hoped was a compelling stare. “Now wait for me right here—or better yet, find me a good horse.  It will take me less than ten minutes to change and grab my bag.  Got it?”

~~~

“You shouldn’t be here.”  Kenshin’s voice was flat, and Anna winced a little at his tone.

She’d known—based on Sasuke’s story—that he’d probably be struggling, emotionally, but it was hard not to react when it felt as though he’d suddenly decided to ignore how close they’d become over many weeks of conversations, quiet evenings out on the engawa, and even occasional disagreements. He refused to admit it, but he was extremely protective, and they’d had to sort out some framework they could both live with, where he knew she was safe, and she didn’t feel stifled. That was a work in progress, obviously.

“I was worried about you,” she told him, letting her sincerity speak for itself.  “I wanted to be beside you, so that I could see for myself that you weren’t hurt.”

“Why didn’t you stay where you were safe?  I’ve told you how dangerous it is to travel right now.  You should have listened to me.”

She could tell he couldn’t hear her—not properly—and instead of frustrating her, that settled her resolve to be patient and gentle.  Once she’d set aside her hurt at her chilly reception, she’d seen the expression—the fractured look—that hovered behind Kenshin’s cool stare and irritated, dismissive words.

“As I told you, Sasuke was with me the whole time, Kenshin-sama.  And I am always safest with you, wherever that is.”

Kenshin’s beautiful, mismatched eyes narrowed slightly, but they stopped moving restlessly around the room, and focussed on her face.  That was better.

“I—that’s not the point.  You should have waited for me.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t wait.  I wanted to see you.  You’re important to me.”  Anna stretched out a hand to him, and Kenshin automatically took it, then looked almost comically surprised by his action.

They were kneeling facing each other in Kenshin’s tent.  Anna had dissuaded Sasuke from going in with her when they’d arrived, regardless of military protocol, and in spite of Sasuke’s evident determination to bear the brunt of Kenshin’s wrath.  After a certain amount of argument, Sasuke had admitted that it would be pleasant not to face a sword at his throat the moment Kenshin took in Anna’s presence.  Consequently, she and Kenshin were alone, which was for the best.  Alone in the immediate sense, at least—there were thousands of soldiers in the camp around them.

Kenshin cleared his throat.  She knew that he wanted to keep making his points about her safety, and about following orders, but he felt constrained by their joined hands, and by the comfort he took from her touch—something that he’d told her once, after enough sake to poison the ordinary man.

“…I suppose you’re here now.  And at least you came straight to me, and are unharmed.”  His gaze softened a little, but Anna didn’t relax her guard.  He was no longer cold, or frowning, but his smile remained disquieting.  “You know… If I can’t be sure that you’ll stay in the castle while I’m away, I may need to take better precautions to keep you safe.”

“I already feel safe,” Anna said immediately, working hard to keep her tone light, but firm.

“You aren’t always careful enough, Anna.”  Kenshin suddenly extended his free hand to caress her cheek and jaw, catching her off-guard.  Although he had once rested his head on her lap, and they often held hands lately—by strictly unspoken accord—this touch was new, and more deliberately intimate. It was also undeniably possessive.

“I appreciate your concern, Kenshin-sama,” Anna responded, as calmly as she could.  She did her best to focus on the tricky situation with Kenshin’s emotions, rather than the rush of warmth that flowed outward from his hand.  “However—”

“I sometimes wonder if I should lock you in your quarters, for your own protection.  You can be reckless.”  Both tone and expression were bright and brittle.

Anna managed not to react to the threatening words; she’d known that it was a risk to come out to meet him.  Instead of pulling away, she resolutely set aside her fear of being locked up in favour of conveying how much she appreciated his touch.  She covered Kenshin’s hand on her cheek with her own, and turned her face further into his palm.

“I know that it’s important for me to be careful,” she told him, “most of all when I’m not with you.”

Kenshin’s eyes narrowed, but after a moment of surprise—it obviously wasn’t the reaction he’d expected—sharpness gave way to interest, and a hint of amusement. His fingers on her face gentled and then stilled.

“Are you trying to persuade me that your journey here was undertaken with safety in mind? Because you are safer with me?” He stroked her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, and she wished she could just relax and enjoy being—somehow—important to this very special man.

“I wouldn’t go that far…”

“No?”  Kenshin leaned forward, so that their faces were almost touching.  The humour had vanished from his two-coloured gaze. “That’s good… But you won’t promise to stay put.  And a woman doesn’t belong on the battlefield.”  His grip on her hand and face tightened again.  “How can I make you understand?”

“I understand, Kenshin-sama.”  She might not appreciate—or agree with—his declaration, but she also knew better than to take it at face value.  Kenshin was trying to use a simple, obvious (to him) statement to express a complex fear. “I know you don’t want me to go onto a battlefield, and I agree that it would be too risky.”  For now, anyway, she added silently to herself.  Sometimes it was hard to wait patiently, not knowing how things were going, wondering if she could be helpful.

“You say you understand, but—”

Anna could almost see the struggle going on behind his ice-sculpture features.  He knew, rationally, that she hadn’t been the woman on the battlefield when he was fighting Lord Masamune.  But the sight of a woman in mortal danger had clearly opened old wounds.  It made her sad to see him so obviously afraid, even when he expressed it as concern for her safety.  He was fearless by nature, and immensely strong, but that just made it worse for him.

“I have never ventured onto a battlefield,” she assured him. More slowly, she added: “And—I won’t.  Not unless you agree to it first.”  She’d given it a lot of thought during the ride to the camp.  It had been a struggle from the beginning to balance her modern views on freedom with the realities of life in feudal Japan.  But she’d decided this was a choice she could give up, for Kenshin’s sake.

“Well, I don’t agree to it.  And I won’t.”  Kenshin’s words were forceful. She would have been irritated, if she didn’t understand him as well as she did now.  “It would be foolish and pointless.  I won’t allow you to put yourself in such danger.”

“I will accept your decision.”

“You have to.”  He was torn between asserting his authority—the man was akin to a divine prince to his clan, after all—and seeking reassurance.  Not that he was one to invoke his rank, or power, explicitly.  It was just part of who he was.  Anna sometimes challenged that assumption of authority, as it applied to her, but she understood it.

“I mean it, Kenshin-sama.  I will not follow you onto a battlefield without your knowledge and agreement.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say permission.  “You don’t have to force me to obey you. This is important to you, so I’ll let you decide.”

“Anna…”

“Yes?”

He remained silent, unable, or unwilling, to voice his thoughts.  After a time, he seemed to reach a decision that satisfied him, and he smiled.

“I will take you home.”

“You’ll take me back to Kasugayama?  I mean—now?”  It was getting late; the sun had disappeared over an hour ago.

“It will be fine.  I know the road well, and I can be back here well before dawn.”

“But…”  This time it was Anna who was at a loss for words.

Kenshin withdrew his hands, although he paused to stroke her hair in a reassuring manner.  Anna felt her heart thump almost painfully in her chest, and for just a moment she forgot how to breathe.  Which was ridiculous!  He affected her like this, more and more as time went on, but she could never decide what part of the attraction was his physical beauty, and what part was everything else—his integrity, his (constantly denied) kindness, his strange combination of strength and fragility.  Or maybe she’d been truly lost when she’d come to believe that he needed her?

“We’ll just take one horse, to avoid being separated, or attacked.”  The brisk, almost enthusiastic, statement brought her sharply back to earth.

“But, why do we have to go at all?  You must be tired…”  Not that he ever seemed tired after even the most gruelling battles.  This time, though, she saw traces of strain.

“We’re not far from the castle, by horse.  It’s much slower for the infantry, of course.”  Kenshin regarded her intently, frowning a little.  “Or are you tired after riding here?  You can rest, and have tea, while I hear Sasuke’s report.”  His expression changed when he mentioned Sasuke, and Anna suspected there would be swords involved. ‘To be expected,’ Sasuke had told her.

“Kenshin-sama.  Isn’t there room for me in the camp?  I thought it would be pleasant for you—for us—to see each other, even if you didn’t have much time to spare.”  

Of course, she didn’t say that she had needed to make sure for herself that he was coping all right with his strange encounter with The Other Woman—the other time-traveller—who isn’t The Other Woman in any way, why did I even think that? Ugh!  It was annoying to realize that there had been a twinge of jealousy in her sentiments toward a woman who might even be a friend, if they could ever meet.  Or maybe I’m just worried that it isn’t me who’s special, and any woman from the future would be new and interesting?

“It’s better to return to the castle.”  Now his tone was flat, and that caught her immediate attention. “I”—uncharacteristically, he seemed to change what he was going to say—“appreciate your effort in coming here.” Even though they weren’t touching, she could sense tension return to his body as fairness warred with instinct. “It wasn’t wise of you, but you were anxious.  Women are emotional.”

As if you aren’t!  Amazingly, she managed to keep that to herself.  It was worth being patient if she could help.  Kenshin had come to terms with her arrival relatively quickly, had even seemed reassured to have her near—for a short while.  But now he wanted her back in the castle, and it might be more sensible to give in.  Hopefully, he wasn’t serious about locking her up.

“If we’re going to go back, then I’d rather leave sooner than later.” Certain parts of her body wanted to protest the whole idea of getting back into the saddle, but she was starting to catch Kenshin’s restlessness.  Or maybe they both wanted to be away from others for a while?

Kenshin nodded, relaxing, but he scrutinized her closely before rising to leave the tent.  When Anna moved to follow him, he waved her back.

“You might as well rest a little.  I have to talk to Sasuke either way, and it may take me some time to get away.”

“But I thought—”

“I won’t go far”—Anna was quite sure he wouldn’t—“so don’t worry.  Get some rest.”

He spoke brusquely, and left the tent without looking back, but Anna was only briefly discomposed.  She guessed that Kenshin had noticed her fatigue from the earlier ride, and was giving her an excuse to recover before starting back.  Of course, he’d made it impossible to refuse.

~

They left an hour later.  Sasuke saw them off, his face even more unreadable than usual in the gloom.  He appeared to be uninjured. The moon was still low in the late summer sky, but approaching full; its light dimly illuminated the path they’d be taking through a rippling series of hills and valleys.  There wasn’t much flat land in Japan, once you were away from the sea.

Kenshin had insisted that Anna ride with him for safety’s sake, but she hadn’t needed convincing.  The rest had helped, but while Kenshin knew every part of this route, and rode as easily as he walked, she had no such knowledge, or skill.  Privately, she thought that the danger of falling off her horse, or guiding it into a hole, far exceeded the chance of being attacked. She couldn’t imagine any bandits stupid enough to prey on the roads this close to Kasugayama.  Besides, she’d come to be with Kenshin, so why wouldn’t she ride with him?

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, thank you, Kenshin-sama.”  

It wasn’t quite true, since she’d become unexpectedly self-conscious from the moment he’d lifted her into the saddle and seated himself behind her. His arms were warm around hers, and it was impossible not to be fully aware of his—taut, lean, muscled—body against her back.  They both wore thin summer clothing, and despite Anna’s light haori, worn in deference to the damp night air, she felt as though they were practically skin-to-skin. She was glad she was facing mostly away from Kenshin.

“Do you always ride so stiffly?  No wonder you were tired.  Didn’t Sasuke teach you to ride?”

“Oh! No… I mean, yes, maybe that was it.”

Kenshin shifted, transferring the reins to one hand, and tightening his other arm around her.  She tensed, and then gave up and settled back against his chest.  How could she resist?  She wondered if her heart-beat was as loud to Kenshin as it seemed to her. Probably not.  Right?

“Are you sure you’re all right?  You seem alarmed.  There’s nothing to fear while you’re with me, and we have no need for haste, so I won’t push the horse.”

Or maybe he had super-human powers of observation, when he wasn’t focussed on other things.  Looking down, she realized that his hand was wrapped carefully around hers, and his thumb was pressed to her racing pulse.  Of course.  So he had noticed her pounding heart-rate.  While riding a battle-trained horse through the near-dark on a winding, hilly trail.

“I’m not alarmed.  I’m not afraid of being attacked, I’m not afraid of falling off, and I’m not afraid that you’ll go too fast.  You pretend it’s not true, but you are very considerate of me.”

He was loosening up as he rode, she could tell.  She, on the other hand, was struggling to keep her cool. Kenshin’s voice carried warm breath past her ear as they rode, and it was yet another distraction to add to all the other pleasant-but-possibly-inappropriate distractions happening right now.  She wondered, again, what he really thought of her.

“Is it considerate to make you ride through the night with me after you have just endured the same ride in the opposite direction?”

“Mm, okay, I’m not sure on that one, but if you’ll tell me why, then I can answer your question.”

“You can be very stubborn.”

“So can you.”

“…I’ve heard that before.  I wish you wouldn’t quote Shingen at me.  It’s annoying.”

He was ‘annoyed’ enough to tighten his grip on her, but it felt a lot more like a hug than anything bad.  Anna realized that she’d be very okay with hugging him back, if they weren’t on horseback, on a difficult trail, in the middle of the night. Inadvertently, she sighed.

“What is it, Anna?”

“Nothing.”

“Ah.”  His breath tickled her ear again, and then—and then—he softly kissed her temple.

“Kenshin!”  Did she really squeak like a fangirl just there?  Yes, yes, she did.  Damn.

“Sasuke told you about the woman—Date’s woman—didn’t he?”

“Um—yes?”  Context? Hello?  Did you just move from kissing me to asking whether I knew about the other woman—no, the other time-traveller who just happened to be a woman?  She was curious, irritated, and a little ‘glowy’ all at once.

“And that’s why you came to see me?”

“Yes… I suppose that’s true.  I was worried.”

“There was no need to worry about me.  Sasuke sometimes—frequently—oversteps his bounds.”

“I worry about you, Kenshin-sama.  I care about what happens to you, and I think about what you’re doing. I wonder if you are all right.”

“I didn’t want you anywhere near the battlefield.  Or in an armed camp full of men.  Sasuke shouldn’t have brought you here.”

Okay, now what?  

“Is that the answer to why we’re riding through the night like this when you should be back at camp overseeing your army?”

“There were a lot of wounded.  Oda Nobunaga—and in this case, Date Masamune and Tokugawa Ieyasu—is a worthy opponent.”

She wanted to point out that he’d just changed the subject again, but over their time together she’d become adept at following his thoughts.  It took an agile mind, and a certain intuition, but she could do it.  Sometimes, she made him spell it out anyway, but it was so comfortable being with him like this that her inclination to push back was waning rapidly.

“You didn’t want me to insist on tending the wounded?”

“I didn’t want you wandering camp—it would be dangerous and inappropriate.”

Inappropriate?  She wasn’t sure whether he meant that she might see, or hear, inappropriate things, or whether he was just being weirdly jealous.  Come to think of it, he could mean both.

“I don’t think I would be in any danger in your camp, with you nearby,” she said, seriously.  “But I travelled to the camp for the sole purpose of seeing you, and even if I didn’t like it, I would follow your instructions while at the camp.”

“She saved Date’s life, you know.  I probably would have killed him before Tokugawa could get to him.  Though he showed surprising stamina for a man who I suspect was badly wounded.”  Kenshin’s assessment was ungrudging—he admired courage and strength in friend and foe alike. “I look forward to a proper fight in the future.”

“Setting aside your quest for a suitable opponent…”  Anna leaned her head back more securely against Kenshin’s chest, and suppressed a sigh of contentment.  “You know that I’d do a lot to save your life, right?”

Kenshin immediately tensed.  “You promised—”

“But you have my word that I won’t chase you onto a battlefield.”

“Good.  I don’t need you to.  You’re a very strange woman—I shouldn’t have to make you promise not to subject yourself to… all that.”

“In exchange—”

“You’re trying to bargain with me?”

“I’m hoping you’ll hear me out.”  She took the silence that followed as assent, if not happy assent.  “I want you to promise you’ll live.”

“You what? That’s—”  He stopped abruptly.

“I’m very sorry if I’ve upset you, Kenshin-sama.”  She hadn’t wanted to.  She’d much rather have ridden on without conflict.  “But I care about what happens to you.  It will make it easier for me to stay away from battles, or war camps, or whatever, if I know that you are doing your utmost to come back safe and sound.”

“You don’t need to worry.  Nothing ever touches me.”

“Kenshin-sama… I trust you.  So if you tell me that you will do your utmost to live, then I will believe it.” She’d try, anyway.  But it would help a lot if she knew he cared enough to come back.  She’d heard the whispers that he couldn’t be touched, couldn’t be killed, because he was the so-called God of War.  It just made her more worried, since she’d already noticed a certain sad fatalism in Kenshin.

They rode in silence for several long minutes after that.  Kenshin’s grip on her slowly relaxed, but remained strong enough to be reassuring.  She found she had to keep pressing her lips together not to add to what she’d said—whether to cajole, or entreat, or just argue.  Eventually, she heard Kenshin sigh, but gently, like a release of pent-up breath.  He drew the horse to a careful stop, allowed the reins to loop over the pommel of the saddle, and wrapped both arms around Anna.

“I told Date Masamune that dying for love was the worst kind of foolishness.  And it was both of them!  She risked everything to be there—she’d already interposed herself between us once, earlier in the fight, although neither of us knew it.  But Date was worse.  He was losing, he’d just dropped his sword, and he still had the nerve to knock away his woman’s killing shot.”

“Bravado?”  She’d suggested that before, but Kenshin hadn’t answered her.  Right now she cared more about Kenshin talking to her, and holding her, than anything else, but she was still a little curious.

“No, worse.  He didn’t want her to have to kill.  He didn’t want it to change her.  I didn’t hear all of it, but that was the gist.”

“I think that’s—” Anna stopped on the edge of saying that she thought it was very sweet.  More than just sweet, it showed true caring and protectiveness.

“It was ridiculous.  He endangered both of them by not letting her shoot.  I had to let them go after that.”

“Of course you did.”  Because he was a good man, and had too much integrity to pursue a fight under such circumstances.  And probably because seeing the woman there shocked him.  But either way, it was just like him to refrain from mindless killing, despite leaving an enemy commander alive.

“I wasn’t being kind.  They took all the enjoyment out of the fight—both of them.  …And I’d heard Date was a ruthless adversary, the kind of man who didn’t let sentiment come in the way of his duty!”

He sounded peeved, Anna thought.  She had to smile.  She hid her face so that he couldn’t accuse her to laughing at him.  Then she felt a kiss on her hair—the first of several. Her body temperature seemed to rise with each kiss, and the way his hands were stroking her back.  She didn’t protest when Kenshin finally lifted her face up to his and pressed his lips to hers.  A hand slid into her hair, and their kiss deepened, becoming more passionate.

When it finally ended, they were both short of breath.  Anna wondered if she looked as startled and—happy?—as Kenshin.  Probably worse, she decided.

“You’ll stay safe?”  He spoke almost too softly to hear.

“I’ll do everything I can to stay safe.  How about you?”  The moonlight turned his hair and eyes to silver; he looked almost otherworldly.

“I’ll—You know I’ll need to go on fighting?”

“Yes.”  She wouldn’t debate the need, or whether it was personal, or duty.

“Yet you still want me to stay safe?”

“I want you to promise to keep yourself alive.”

“I can do that.”

“Then I will promise to stay as safe as possible, and to stay alive, for you.”

“Anna, you are—”

“Very strange?”

To her surprise, he laughed—she wasn’t sure she’d heard him laugh before.

“I was going to say stubborn.  And hard to resist.”  He stopped laughing, and bent to kiss her just below the ear, in a way that made her gasp.  “Also, right now, I want you all for myself.”  He kissed her jaw, and the corner of her mouth.

Anna hummed her agreement.  That wasn’t a problem:  she wanted Kenshin all to herself, as well.  Really, this moonlight ride made perfect sense, now that she thought about it.  She’d just have to count on Kenshin to keep her from falling off the horse.

[END]

A/Note:  I hope you enjoyed this foray into the “okay, but what about Kenshin?” or “and in the background...” or “off-stage...”  If you get a chance, let me know what you think!

Note 2:  I didn’t tag anybody, because tumblr search isn’t good about *any* links anymore, including links to people on tumblr (eyeroll).  I’m still trying to figure out a work-around for this! 

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Do you think Ogata is a sociopath?

Sorry for the late reply. Sadly this is an extremely busy working period for me.

Anyway…

is Ogata fitting sociopath trope?

It’s a really interesting question and also, if I’m not wrong, a hot topic for the fandom so I’ll try to answer it the best I can.

I’ll use as reference for the Sociopath trope tvtropes because it’s good enough to analyze a character of a litterary work.

So, for this trope, we’re given 5 defining qualities (I’ll copy the words of tvtrope below so people don’t have to go back and forth to check it).

1) Lack of Empathy and Devoid of Conscience: Their defining feature. Utterly ruthless doesn't begin to describe them: except for when trying to appear normal, they will disregard any social norms and semblance of morality in pursuit of their own selfish desires. The Sociopath will do whatever it takes: lie, cheat, steal, extort, manipulate, or use outright violence without the slightest hesitation, disgust or remorse, and for as little as Pleasure or The Evulz. Murder and violence have no more emotional weight than eating Chinese takeout or some other mundane activity, and they have no concern for the direct or collateral damage they do to other people, being unable to understand why anyone should. Likewise, they never truly understand the feelings of others on anything more than an intellectual level, and may even believe that everybody else is faking it too. As many Real Life criminal psychologists put it: "They know the words but not the music." Techniques for learning moral behaviour, such as reason, therapy, rehabilitation and behavioral reward/punishment, will not work on them or tend to only make their behavior even worse by making it easier for them to fake it. This is why the only thing resembling consistently successful treatment involves teaching them to avoid behaviors that have predictable consequences; they may still believe that consequences are bullshit, but if they have been made sufficiently aware of the fact that their behavior will always end up with them in jail, getting sued, or simply just getting jumped or killed when they fuck with the wrong people, and that they can't lie and fake their way out of it because people are wise to their game, they will usually shape up.

Noda actually debunk this in Ogata’s second apparition and it’s THE DEFINING FEATURE of the trope.

Not only he has Ogata decide they won’t kill Tanigaki in Huci’s house because Huci reminds him of his grandmother, whom he loved and therefore he doesn’t want to kill her (chap 43),

but he also have him to save Nikaido (Chap 45)

eventhough Ogata is sure it’s a trap (Chap 45).

In case people hadn’t gotten the message well Noda remarks his meetingwith Huci left an impression by having him remember her when Tanigaki mentionedher (chap 110)

making him consequently offer to help Tanigaki (yeah the way hewent at it was horrible) and in other small instances (like how although hedoesn’t believe in dreams he tells Asirpa he should write her instead than justsaying he should ignore her for being senile and naïve (chap 113)).

He also remarks that Ogata knew a wounded Nikaido would be a liability byshowing how one of the war techniques Ogata learnt in war was to woundopponents instead than killing them (chap 46)…

and underlines this again in thefight with Vasily, where not only it’s explained again how wounding opponentsis a technique used to damage enemies (Chap 162)...

but Ogata also comments on how Vasilywon’t expose himself for his companions as he evidently would be comfortablehearing their screams of pain through all the night (chap 162)...

which was what Ogata should have done instead than saving Nikaido.

We’ve other instances in which Ogata showed he’s not utterly ruthless,like when he saves Shinpei instead than letting his father kill him and onlyafterward killing the man (chap 59).

We’ve him claiming he doesn’t feel guilt for the people he kills and yethe hallucinates and is clearly haunted by the memory of his brother, whom hekilled (chap 164/165).

More recently instead we’ve the scene in which he comfort Koito (chap199)

...or the fact once he was left alone with Koito he didn’t harm him in retaliation for slamming his head against his nose but just tied him (Chap 200).

Noda likely created those settings exactly to debunk the defining feature of thetrope, so we won’t get the wrong impression about Ogata.

2) Consummate Liar and Manipulator: In the event they are ever targets of suspicion in crime dramas and thrillers, sociopaths are able to fool any Living Lie Detectors in the cast, pass polygraphs effortlessly, and fool even you, the audience, into believing they are genuinely kind and caring people who are victims of a "big misunderstanding" (assuming they are not so smugly confident of their own invincibility that they feel no need to hide their unsavory personality). Moreover, despite their lack of empathy, sociopaths are capable of using their knowledge of others' desires, emotions and insecurities to manipulate them for their own personal gain. Because of this, many of them are Faux Affably Evil. This is related to their lack of empathy and shame - they don't feel the slightest discomfort about lying or exploiting others, so they do so with the same ease in which normal people perform mundane activities. This is why you should always assume that any apparent epiphany from a sociopath is bullshit; as far as they're concerned, it's just another tool to get what they want, and they don't actually believe that they have done anything wrong. Don't let them know that they are full of shit, because it will just force them to become more slick, but do act with the knowledge that they will go right back to their old ways the minute that they think it is safe to do so.

Yeah, Ogata lies in Golden Kamuy. All the cast does, even Asirpa.

But the idea here is he has to be a consummate one, a GOOD one, a masterful one, not just a guy who here and there lies. He has to be so good at lying he can manipulate others though his lies.

And Ogata fails at lying. Noda debunks this as well in Ogata’s second apparition when he tells Tanigaki that he was joking when he said Tanigaki might have killed Tamai and Co and Tanigaki is free to remain in Huci’s house because Ogata will act as if he had never seen Tanigaki (Chap 43).

Tanigaki is so sure Ogata is being sincere he thinks he has to leave AS SOON AS POSSIBLE (Chap 43).

And I’ve spent lot of time discussing how his lie about Sugimoto’s final moments was a complete and utter mess, the clear sign the most Ogata can do are extremely simple lies because as soon as he tries to make up a story that’s as unbelievable as possible.

Ogata can be a good strategist during a battle.

We see it in the Barato arc, also in the sniper duel and, if we want, also in his recent escape. However he’s clearly not good at manipulating people in interactions.

He can’t win over their trust, which is a big requisite to manipulate people as he’s almost universally distrusted, we see it not only with Tanigaki, who simply didn’t buy his lie nor spilled the truth about Sugimoto’s involvement but also with Sugimoto himself, who’ll be more prone to trust Kiro or Hijikata, who’ll both betray him to try to get Asirpa, and even Tsurumi than Ogata even when it’ll be really obvious Ogata is actually right (remember the fake Ainu arc?), with Yuusaku, who won’t spend time with whose women nor kill a man, with Asirpa, who won’t give him the code and honestly, I’m not even sure his attempt at hinting Tsurumi’s involvement in Koito’s kidnapping will be something Koito will understand.

In order to be a manipulator is not enough to attempt to manipulate, you’ve to do so successfully. And Ogata fails at this.

3) Pathological Need for Stimulation: The Sociopath's raison d'etre (i.e.: an overriding goal which serves as one's "reason for existence"). Due to their inability to empathize or even care for those around them, sociopaths largely view their existence as boring or meaningless and therefore feel compelled to engage in "thrill-seeking" activities to alleviate their restlessness. How this manifests depends largely on the sociopath's personality. It can be as relatively benign as binging on video games, compulsively gambling, or leading highly promiscuous lifestyles. Far more dangerous examples are prone to satiate their lust for thrills by partaking in criminal enterprises, becoming serial rapists and/or killers, or (if they are unusually high-functioning) accumulating vast wealth and/or influence for the sole purpose of dominating as many people as they can for their own amusement. Due to their obsession with indulging their insatiable appetites however they want whenever they want, sociopaths have a very low tolerance for inconvenience or irritation which in turn leads them to have a pronounced lack of impulse control. Because of this, many of them are Ax-Crazy, have a Hair-Trigger Temper, and/or are Mood Swingers.

That’s hard to say.

So far Ogata never stated to find existence boring without action. Sure, he’s engaged in a very risky hunt and he’s rather reckless but does he has a pathological need for this or, like the rest of the cast, he’s just thinking this is the price to pay to reach his goal? He’s in this for the fun of it or he has a different purpose? Until we don’t know Ogata’s goal we can speculate as much as we want but we can hardly say for sure.

What we know is Ogata has a very good impulse control, that he’s usually very cold and even in the few circumstances we’ve seen him angry or in a tight spot he hardly lost it.

4) Shallow Affect and Complete Lack of Emotional Reciprocity: A Sociopath is physiologically incapable of experiencing a deep emotional attachment towards others but - being a Consummate Liar - learns early in life how to fake them. This shallow emotional life means that the Sociopath is unable to form sincere long-term relationships with anything or anyone, but will feign feelings of love and affection if they feel it serves their purposes. Most of the true feelings a sociopath harbors towards others, positive or negative, are rooted in an insatiable desire to dominate or control them. While narcissists desire to be loved or at least respected, sociopaths don't care whether others view them positively as long as they don't stand in the way of their own self-centered gratification. In the rare event that a Sociopath actually does form an "attachment" to another person, it rises no further than that between an owner and a possession and/or a valuable resource for advancing their goals. Thus, once such "friends" cease to be useful or entertaining, they will abandon them or, in some cases, even kill them without any hesitation or regret. Any emotional reaction to having committed a heinous act is met indifference at best and glee at worst.

Technically debunked again in Ogata’s second apparition.

As said before not only Ogata declared he had feelings for his grandmother but even went out of his way to spare Huci because it reminded him of her.

But I know this is viewed in a rather controversial manner.

In fact so far we hadn’t seen him developing a deep emotional attachment toward others as he remained a loner.

The fandom though was very impressed by two things.

One is his relationship with Yuusaku. It’s worth to note that Noda made very clear that Ogata wanted to avoid Yuusaku and not have a relationship with him at all (chap 164),

...and it was on Tsurumi’s request he ended up on having to try to deceive him and get them what they wanted. It’s also meaningful how Ogata never played the whole thing on the affection side. The most he did was to point out he and Yuusaku were brothers so they should get to mischief together, but he never tried to use feelings into the play, he insisted in calling Yuusaku ‘Yuusaku-dono’ and he never asked Yuusaku to do something because Ogata loved him or out of the love Yuusaku should feel for him.

Ogata is clearly not faking any affection for Yuusaku, he’s at most giving him some of his time. Yuusaku, who has already decided Ogata has to be delighted to have a little brother even when Ogata clearly hinted the contrary, might not see it but this speaks more of Yuusaku’s obsession to get Ogata to be his big brother than about Ogata’s attempt at faking feelings he didn’t felt.

The other thing the fandom likes to talk about is Ogata’s relationship with Asirpa.

That one is a rather controversial topic.

Asirpa is friendly with Ogata. Nothing over the top, she just deal with him with the same kindness she would deal with everyone else (actually she’s kinder with Tanigaki considering the guy threatened her and tried to use her as human shield and she completely forgave him that and saved his life. Twice).

Ogata’s interactions with her, for most of the story, are not responding to it at all.

He’s not faking affection, he’s just mostly not interacting and keeping on his own.

It takes him months to say ‘citatap’ as she repeatedly asked him and call Asirpa by name. It’ll take him even more to say ‘hinna’.

Asirpa decides to remain friendly with him. That’s Asirpa’s decision, it’s not Ogata’s actions, or more exactly his lack of actions that cause Asirpa to remain friend with him.

And Asirpa is clearly not the type who needs to be rejected to latch to someone as we see she’s just fine with being friend with Sugimoto, Shiraishi, Kiroranke, Tanigaki and others, who aren’t keeping distant, nor she’s so starved for affection just a word would win her over.

Even when he will try to get her to give him the code he won’t try to play it on the ‘if you care for me/trust me give me the code’ or on the ‘I care for you so I’m telling you what would be best for you’.

Really, to assume Ogata was faking affection with her would require accepting he can’t fake it to save his life.

5) Grandiose Sense of Self-Worth: The trait that ties it all together - the one that changes it from moustache-twirling evil into a mental disorder. Sociopaths will go so far as to convince themselves that they have succeeded in their plan, even as failure stares them in the face and snaps on the handcuffs. They genuinely believe it. They don't really care what others truly think on the matter, but they do care about what they say, and like to fill their social circle with people who say what they want to hear. Any others - even former 'friends' - will be dismissed from the sociopath's social circle simply for doubting them. They consider themselves better than anybody else and that they are entitled to special treatment - and they can't stand anybody being considered better than them. However, while the Narcissist is self-conscious of how they measure up to others' standards (and therefore will experience shame or guilt for failing them), a sociopath's grandiosity is all-encompassing to the point they have no concern how their actions reflect upon them UNLESS it threatens their ability to indulge their appetite for further stimulation. They are incapable of acknowledging personal responsibility for failure, and will always blame others, no matter how irrational it is. In fact, it's considerably difficult convincing them that the activity they have partaken in has even failed. This is all part of why a sociopath can't change - since they consider themselves to already be perfect, and refuse to acknowledge failure on their part, and consider the true opinions and feelings of others insignificant, they never try to improve themselves.

Honestly I wouldn’t say Ogata has a grandiose sense of self worth.

Sure, he knows he’s an amazing sniper and he occasionally brags about it.

Everyone does know Ogata is amazing at sniping. This is, after all, a fact that’s accepted by the whole cast and that’s actually proved more than once, after all Ogata fits the trope of improbable aiming skills with his impressive feats of shooting two deer at once or managing to catch three woodcocks with a less suitable rifle, exterminating a reindeer herd on his own or hitting targets with an impossible precision from an amazing distance.

Ushiyama too comments on how he’s Ushiyama, the Undefeated, even if he lost to Gansoku here and there when they only used fists (Chap 143).

Just bragging a little on a real skill isn’t a sign of grandiose sense of self-worth, just of rightful pride for it. Yeah, modesty is an important virtue but you don’t turn into a sociopath if you’re proud of what you can do.

What’s more noteworthy though is he knows he’s a rejected kid, anunwanted one, who wasn’t loved and that feels he lacked something fundamental. He’s aware of how, being an illegitimate, his existence was a source of shame for his father. He comments on how he knew he wouldn’t be able to persuade Asirpa, admitting his failure. He admits his responsibility in his actions.

Therefore I can’t really see him as a guy with a grandiose sense of self worth.

And so with this, we’ve finished with the defining traits for this trope.

Tvtropes also says:

Many of these traits are shared with other disorders, but it's the combination of them all that creates the trueSociopath.

In short you need them all to have a character that fits this TROPE (please, remember, this is a TROPE, the real personality disorder that goes with the same name is not something an ordinary person can find out in real people with this checklist, no, not even if, like me, they studied psychology in high school, this is a list for a TROPE as this is a fictional work).

As a result honestly I can’t see Ogata fitting into them because, for the first 2, Noda actually did his best to remark howthey don’t fit to Ogata from his second apparition, for the 3rd we can’t really say as we lack material, I’ll let the 4th up to debate and honestly, I don’t see him matching with the 5th.

As a trope Ogata fits the cold sniper with improbable aiming skills and an ambiguous disorder (at least for now... who knows, in the future Noda might tell us).

The one of the sociopath isn’t really cut on him.

It doesn’t mean Ogata is a good person, or that he only does good things, it’s clear he does a BIG DEAL OF TERRIBLY WRONG THINGS and we know sociopaths can do this sort of wrong things.

However Noda apparently wasn’t interested in making Ogata a sociopath or otherwise he wouldn’t have written scenes debunking a sociopath’s main characteristics and, believe it or not, in real life you don’t need to be a sociopath to do the sort of wrong things Ogata does so it’s not like Noda is being unrealistic.

Sorry to whoever wanted him to be one, I know each fandom loves to have its own memetic psychopath but as they’re not my cup of tea I fear I won’t partake into the ‘fun’ of turning Ogata into one.

Thank you for your ask!

[florbexter]

The F in Fake stands for Love

Part 7

“Are those macarons?”

Can looked down and saw that he still had the bag with the last croissant in one hand and the box with the macarons in the other. Amth, a fellow football teammate, stood in front of him and Can had no idea how he had made it to the lecture and what it had been about.

“Yeah, macarons… you want one?”, he asked but pulled his hand back the moment Amth wanted to take one. “But not the strawberry ones.” Tin had said they were his favourite and he bought the box so it would be unfair to not give him the remaining one. Which, again, made him think about the scene in the car and he was torn between a shiver and goosebumps. When he moved his head he had the feeling to catch a whiff of Tin’s smell as if he had imprinted himself on him in the car.

It messed with his head and he had the urge to turn around and see if Tin stood in the door to the classroom and looked at him. What exactly had happened back in the car? Had Tin flirted with him? That couldn’t be right… nobody had been around to see them being fake-boyfriends so why would he...

“Nothing about you is simple,” he had said. What did that mean? He was simple. That what made him Can. He wasn’t complicated, he had no secrets… oh, yeah, that was wrong wasn’t it?

He was one of the last to leave the classroom and wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He didn’t remember his timetable… what time was it anyway?

His cellphone vibrated and on the cracked screen, he saw a message from Tin. Figures, he thought. The internet just worked sporadically most of the time but Tin’s messages went through.

“Don’t forget our lunch date. xo.”

Can blinked and his eyes traced the shapes and forms of xo. That didn’t mean what he thought it meant, right?

He groaned and put the phone back in his pocket. He wasn’t… he… he wasn’t equipped for stuff like that, as if they were in one of the drama shows his mum loved so much. He stomped with one food and wanted to start a string of whining, but in the distance, he saw a familiar face and without thinking he yelled: “P`TYPE!”

His senior startled and Can saw that for a moment he contemplated to run away, but he didn’t. Can liked him for that. He jogged up to him.

“N’Can, I’m sorry but I’m not able to feed you today. Moreover, it’s not lunchtime, you can endure until then.”

“I’m not hungry P’Type!”, Can said and pouted. Which, strangely was true. He remembered the croissant and held the bag up for P’Types inspection.

“I need your advice. I have one croissant if you want.”

P’Type frowned at him and looked behind Can as if he wanted to make sure he wasn’t pranked. Can understood him. Never had Can provided food for others. Can remembered to do a wai and did another for good measure.

“Please! Please, please, please. I need your help. P’Type!”

“Fine! You don’t have to scream in my face. Come on, let us sit outside.”

P’Type had snatched the bag out of his hands so Can pouted a little bit. At least he still had the macarons.

Can had been, from the first moment he had met him, convinced that P’Type had the answers to almost every question. So it was only logical to go to him when he didn’t know what to do.

“So… what do you need my help for?” P’Type asked and took a huge bite out of the croissant as if he wanted to make a point. Can fiddled with his fingers and wasn’t sure how to begin. P’Type scrutinized him.

“Is this about your fake-boyfriend?”

Can spluttered and jumped up. “How… this is… I’m… not… lies!!!!” P’Type just rolled his eyes.

“I’m not sure how you thought people would believe you,” he stopped and frowned. “Or how you thought I would believe you? I’m not surprised about Ai No, to be honest, but deeply disappointed in Champ.”

Can sat back down. “Why didn’t you say something?”, he asked.

P’Type just shrugged and devoured the rest of the croissant. “It’s not my place I thought. You’re normally not someone who lies so I thought you maybe had a reason.”

Can wanted to say something but P’Type interrupted him: “How Champ fell for your lie is still a mystery to me, we know you, he knows you! As if it isn’t strange that we didn’t witness your whole falling in love part… how?”

“Could we focus back on me, please?”, Can asked and P’Type blinked at him as if he had to shook himself out of his disappointment over P’Champs gullibility.

“Yeah, sure, sorry. Tell me.”

And Can sighed, and took a deep breath and told him. About the pictures in Ai Pete’s phone, his lie, that Tin had the audacity to come back from England. That he was suspicious of Ae’s intentions towards Ai Pete and how he blackmailed him to be fake-boyfriends for two more weeks.

“Wow,” P’Type said at the end of Can’s ramble and methodically smoothed the crinkles out of the croissant bag. “That is quite a development.”

“What should I do?”, Can asked.

“You have to decide first if you really care about Tin telling everyone about your fake-relationship or if you’re freaking out because you want to kiss him.”

Can gaped at P’Type. No… no, he didn’t want to kiss Tin! Tin had planted those thoughts inside his head because he had pulled that stunt in the car. Can had never and would never want to kiss Tin! Maybe other people wanted to kiss Tin because - objectively - he was handsome and smelled nice and why would you kiss someone who you didn’t find attractive and smelled bad? That would be stupid and he wasn’t stupid and… wait… what?

“I don’t want to kiss Tin!”, he said out loud to make P’Type understand. Meanwhile, P’Type had folded the bag in a tiny little square.

“Believe me, you want.”

“I don’t really know him! He’s rude, he blackmails me… how could you think!” Can had to stop because he had started to breathe heavily and needed time to not hyperventilate.

P’Type patted him on the arm in a very condescending way.

“There are no rules, you know? You’re allowed to want to kiss someone after you met them, or after you knew them all your life. You’re allowed to crush on someone you met for only a minute or your whole lifetime. You can fall out of love as quickly as falling in love. There’re no rules.”

Can just stared at P’Type. “You stole his photos because you’re attracted to him. This whole blackmail thing is a huge mess and still… you’re allowed to like him despite that. And if you really think that it would be that big of a deal if Tin would tell everyone about your fake-relationship… there are more ‘scandals’ happening at the university than I’m comfortable with. I promise you no one would care. You two should go back on even ground. Ask him if he really wants to ‘investigate’ Ae’s and Pete’s relationship or if he has other motives.”

“Other motives?”

“You think you’re the only one making stupid decisions when being cornered? Or when you thought there are no other options? Get this whole blackmail thing out of the way and I would advise communicating but If you have the urge to run away for some time by all means…”

P’Type looked up and wanted to hit himself. Can had a dazed look on his face and P’Type knew he had unloaded too much on him way too soon. He should have just fed the guy. With a glance to his watch, he saw that he had to go to his next lecture. He felt a bit bad leaving Can like this, all alone and lost.

“You have some thinking to do… And, actually, I can’t really tell you how you feel or how you should feel. Or who you want to kiss. That’s your decision. Just… stop the blackmailing or whatever you two are doing, okay?”

Can nodded, but it seemed like an automatic response. P’Type patted his head because Can looked like a lost puppy.

“See you,” he said and Can waved half-heartily at him. He looked back before he turned around a corner and Can still sat on the bench and looked at his box of macarons.

++

Can had given up on his normal schedule for the day. He prayed his mum wouldn’t find out, but he wouldn’t be able to concentrate in the classes anyway, so… the library was not very occupied at this time of the day just some haggard looking grad students mumbling to themselves.

He had thought to talk to P’Type would clear everything up but his thoughts were a mess and he couldn’t concentrate. Which was why he was in the library and dumped every thought on a piece of paper.

I don’t want to kiss Tin, he wrote on the top of it. Because Tin was rude, and didn’t stay in England, and because he didn’t follow the rule of enough distance between their bodies. And the blackmailing thing. He couldn’t forget that, he thought and wrote it on the paper in capital letters.

P’Type had said he should stop the blackmailing. And when Can really, really, really thought about it then he had to admit that he didn’t care what the IC faculty would think about him. He didn’t know anybody there… expect Ai Pete, but he was an honourable Thai Program, so he didn’t count. P’Champ would roast him endlessly… but that was nothing new. If it wouldn’t be Can it would be someone else… so he took one for the team. Also, if he was brutally honest with himself… he wouldn’t have been able to last the whole two weeks. He would have screwed up, either because of embarrassment or for prattling away. He wasn’t a good actor, telling the boys that Tin was his boyfriend had been the first deliberate lie he had ever told…

A letter, a letter would be a good idea. Can wasn’t always sufficient enough verbally so he could write a letter and explain to Tin that their arrangement was null and void and he could kiss his… someone put a stack of books on the table with a loud thump.

++

The IC parking lot was deserted, nevertheless, Can had the urge to tip-toe to Tin’s car. Which would make him look like he wanted to steal the car he realized… He pinned the letter between the windscreen and the wiper with care because the car was a beauty and shouldn’t be scratched and when he stood back he was pleased with the result. It shouldn’t fly away and there was no scratch on the car and…

“Are you serious?”

Can turned around and squeaked. He may have even flailed a little bit.

Tin looked at him but there was no frown on his face. It was strangely blank and only his eyes seemed to convey an emotion. He was angry.

Can felt a huge lump in his throat and swore internally. Why was he the unlucky one in this universe? He pointed at the letter.

“I wrote you something, you should… read it… yeah! Bye!”

He didn’t get far. Can was still insistent about the fact that Tin wasn’t that much taller than him, but he had some really long legs and moved like lightning. Can groaned at the hand around his upper arm.

“You’re staying here.” Tin said and Can heard a weird vibration in his tone. He was dragged back to the car and Tin pulled the letter off with his free hand. Can felt like a wet towel hanging off Tin’s arm and he squirmed.

Tin shushed him.

Heat flushed his face while Tin read the letter and why hadn’t he memorized Tin’s timetable?

“Your grammar is appalling,” Tin said and Can tried getting off his hold again. Tin’s hand was unforgiving and why was a rich spoiled kid so strong?

“Just let me goooo,” he whined. Why was it only him who got humiliated all the time? What did he do to deserve this kind of karma?

“You break up our fake-relationship with a letter? How pathetic can you be?”

Can spluttered. “Your reading this letter wrong! I’m telling you off!! Off!! This is about me no longer bowing down to your paranoid and weird stalking of Ai Pete’s and Ae’s relationship.”

“With very bad handwriting,” Tin mumbled and didn’t he get the point?

“This is not what you should be focusing on you asshole! I’ll no longer be blackmailed by you, you hear me?”

Tin let go of him and Can stumbled backwards. The spot on his upper arm hurt a little bit and he stroked it with a frown. Tin seemed to read the letter again and folded it in half afterwards. Can wasn’t sure but he didn’t look angry anymore… disappointed? The lump in his throat grew which was weird. He shouldn’t be the one feeling guilty.

Tin looked at him as if he was surprised he was still there. He waved with the letter.

“I get it… just forget about everything.” Tin was about to get into the car and Can felt panic rise up in him. This wasn’t what he wanted, he realized. But he had no idea what he really wanted and…

He remembered P’Type words and surged forward.

“Wait,” he said and Tin turned around and flinched because Can was suddenly in his space. Can thoughts didn’t make sense to him, but that was normal so he just did what his instinct told him. He grabbed Tin’s face and kissed him. It wasn’t a very long or, he thought, a good kiss and their lips weren’t perfectly lined up, but it counted.

His heart pounded so hard it kind of hurt and he hastily stepped back after a few seconds. Tin stared at him and Can wasn’t sure what his face meant. Maybe he had hated the kiss or wanted to laugh at him so Can held his head up high and tried to look as confident as possible.

“You got my first kiss… we’re even now.” His voice sounded scratchy and rough and foreign. He ran away.

[doctorspencereid]

Because of Me Pt.1 ( Spencer Reid x Reader )

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: When a mysterious unsub decides to challenge Spencer Reid, you are dragged into this mess in the worst way possible. This is part 1 of a two - part fic.  PART 2 

Word Count: 3.4k

Setting: Somewhere in the zone of Seasons 4 - 7

Warnings: abduction

To say say that Spencer’s lecture wasn’t going well would be an understatement. The crowd looked absent, bored. They looked back up at him as though he were an alien speaking in foreign tongues. This always baffled Spencer, he had difficulties connecting with people when it came to one on one encounters … lectures were slightly more complex than the average social encounter. He, himself, had always been fascinated by a wide array of topics and found them interesting. Particularly the subject of this lecture; the micro-details that accompanied profiling, the smaller pieces of the puzzle that truly made the picture what it was. Spencer Reid had chosen to accompany David Rossi to his latest book signing, and when Rossi had asked him to do a lecture while he got ready, Spencer had been more than willing to oblige. Now though, that he was on stage speaking to people who would rather watch true crime videos than listen to him speak, well it made it easy to remember that these people weren’t here to see him. They were sitting through the ‘boring’ part of the event before the star of the show came out greet his adoring fans. This didn’t upset Spencer per say, but it wasn’t a confidence boost by any means.

Rossi came out sooner than expected and he was alerted to that by the sudden roar of the crowd that drowned out the tail end of his sentence. Spencer stood there awkwardly silent, waiting for them to quiet down. Though it took roughly two minutes before that happened. Rossi came up to Spencer, patting the boy genius on the back with a hearty laugh and subtly motioning him off the stage. He wasn’t entirely socially aware all of the time, but he could take a hint ( most of the time). The BAU agent left the stage with relief, the eyes of the crowd gliding past him as though he weren’t so much as anything. His long legs carried him out of the room and into the hallway outside of the hotel’s conference room where the signing was being held. The lanky genius sighed and propped up against a pillar, willing to wait for Rossi to wrap up. Though he knew in the back of his head that it would be awhile before Rossi finished with his fans.

The sound of gentle footsteps drew Spencer’s attention. A girl with a timid smile emerged from the conference room, clutching Rossi’s book with both hands. She was maybe three years younger than himself, and yet she regarded him with an odd look. Though it wasn’t in the same world of odd in which the audience had given him. They had peered at him as though he were from a different universe, she looked at him as though she were wondering if she recognized him or not.

“ Dr. Reid? ” She asked, lifting both brows in question, “ I’m Y/N  Y/L/N … I just wanted to tell you that I found your lecture very interesting and thought provoking. It’s honestly so incredible how much the smaller details matter in creating a profile. ” Y/N gushed, her eyes were glittering the way someone’s eyes only could when they were passionate about the topic. Spencer smiled wryly, appreciative that at least someone in that crowd heard him.

“ Well, I’m glad you think so, you might just be the only one.” Spencer thanked, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He paused, noticing a figure behind her. He peered over Y/N’s head easily, looking past her to a man lingering by the door. Then, with a calm smile, he turned and walked back into the conference room. With a shake of his head, Spencer cleared his thoughts and shifted his eyes back to the girl in front of him. Spencer licked his dry lips and looked from the doorframe and back to her. “ Is, um, is profiling something that interests you?” he asked gently, his eyebrows knitting together.  

Her eyes flashed and she nodded eagerly, her hands flipping the book over and over in her grasp. Nerves. He noted this, but didn’t think on it too much. “ Yeah, I’m about to graduate with a major in Criminology and a minor in Psychology,” Y/N explained, the true pride she took in her work evident. “ You could say I care a lot about the inner workings of the mind.”

Reid’s brows lifted minutely, well then she was someone who did take genuine interest in the topic.“ I’ve read  a few of your articles, it’s incredible the way you break down your theories and experiences.”

Without any control of his own, the edges of his mouth lifted. She knew his work and didn’t think him to be some rambling weirdo. Well, maybe she did. But even if she did, at least she didn’t treat him like it. The nerves explained themselves, if she’d read into his work then she’d already formed her own perception of it and himself. It wasn’t often that Spencer encountered excitable people around his own age that had genuine interest in the same thing. “ Er, yeah. People have a tendency to overlook the smaller points. And when they finally do take notice, it’s almost too late.” he agreed, half smiling. Her face lit up and her smile fanned out brilliantly. Spencer’s mind was prodding at him to find out more about the scholar.

“ Yeah, right. Exactly, finally someone gets it. ” Y/N mumbled, peering down at her feet. She looked up again, seemingly more resigned now,“ I, um, I have class in about an hour, so maybe we could finish this talk over coffee?. . If you don’t mind, that is.” She didn’t look away, trying to gauge his reaction. Spencer found himself nodding, without thinking about it even.

“ I wouldn’t mind at all, actually.”

“ Great. How about two days from now then, around 2? There’s a nice little shop down the block and their espresso is to die for.”

“ I’ll see you then.”

If Spencer weren’t blessed with an eidetic memory then the whole exchange might’ve just flown past him numbly. Only the nerves that rattled in his brain brought it into clear focus, one where

he was all too aware of his gangly limbs and semi - awkward idiosyncrasies. Was this a sort of date? Maybe, Spencer didn’t do those often. It was as if he were on auto-pilot. Or, he had been until he’d made his way out to the parking lot and encountered a note waiting for him on the windshield. Rossi had been so encaptured in his own recounting of the signing that  he hadn’t taken notice to the small slip of paper Spencer plucked up. It was a small, plain note which was unassuming aside from the precise handwriting sitting perfectly in it’s center.

Let’s see how smart you are.

The corner of the page had a number 6, simple and seemingly unrelated. The note looked up at him with a challenge plain in the tone, and it alarmed him. He wasn’t afraid, and part of him wanted to think it might’ve been a prank from one of the people in attendance to the lecture. Maybe they were trying to strike back at him for taking up some of their day. It would be an odd retaliation maneuver, but Spencer didn’t want to jump to conclusions straight off. Still, the note raised his guard and the grim reality of the nightmare they inhabited sank back into his bones. He tried to push it to the back of mind, and maybe it could melt away.

He remained quiet on the drive home, ignoring the crumpled note in his pocket. Spencer let Rossi dominate the conversation, not that it was hard. It seemed easier to let his mind wander than to ignore something so feverently. His thoughts shifted from his encounter with Y/N, to his failed lecture, and to the case they were working on back at the BAU. Beneath that though, his thoughts kept slipping back to the note. Spencer resolved to himself that he would think on it more once he was home, alone. This was a move, and a game had begun. He simply hoped he had enough knowledge to win.

He awoke tired the next morning, having stayed up light trying to figure out what he could based on the small sentence that had been carefully drafted. Moreover, he was trying to determine if it was something he should bother about further. He did his best to pull himself together, though his tired eyes combated against any attempts Spencer made. Then, as he was leaving a small piece of paper fluttered down from his door. He scanned the hall, trying to see if whoever had left it might still be lurking. When he decided that there was in fact no one there, he retrieved it and swallowed dryly. Whoever it was, they were encroaching into his space and that alone was more unsettling than any of the notes were. Spencer read the note slowly, rereading it over and over.

You’re going to lose, doctor.

There, in the bottom was the number 9. If the last note had been a challenge, this had been a threat. Or maybe, a taunt. A way to lure him in further into the game. Part of him was annoyed knowing that this wouldn’t make sense, not yet. It was like the horrifying understanding that you felt when you knew the only way understand an unsub’s pattern was to wait for them to dump another body. It was an unwanted but necessary component. He needed another note, another piece of the puzzle. It wasn’t an image, it was a leaf, and a pebble, it wasn’t a whole picture yet. At work, his attention was taken up by the tiny scrawls of paper. He filled out forms and files almost mindlessly. He hardly noticed the coffee JJ left on his desk, or when Morgan had dropped by to check on how he was holding up.

When he wasn’t sifting through case files, he was trying to build up a profile. It was harder when he was running on almost no information though. It was definitely someone on par intellectually, someone who was clever. He might be dealing with a narcissist, normal people don’t go challenging others to an intellectual pissing contest. The unsub didn’t stand out too much, seeing as he was able to get into the apartment complex with ease, he may have appeared normal to the average person. It did dawn on Spencer that were the team involved, things might have moved faster. But he didn’t want to involve them yet, as of yet the unsub hadn’t proved dangerous. This was a personal dilemma. As the day drew to a close, Morgan drew him aside with drawn together brows and curiosity gleaming in his dark eyes.

“ Hey, Reid, you alright? You’ve been off all day, don’t think we haven’t noticed. ” Derek questioned, crossing his arms against his chest. He seemed to watch Spencer with the concern of an older sibling. Spencer shrugged, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“ Everything’s fine, nothing I can’t handle. ” He murmured, shaking his head and standing up to collect his things. Morgan clearly had his doubts, with a raised brow he silently questioned the younger agent.

“ Are you sure, because-”

“ I’ve got it, alright? Look, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Spencer cut him off, the guilt seeping in almost immediately. He swallowed and looked down, gathering his things and walking past Derek. He’d explain when this  was over, but as of that moment he needed to focus and he didn’t have the time to be questioned and prodded. It was as he was leaving the building that a reminder drew him back from the crazy. Tomorrow he would be meeting Y/N again, this settled some of his nerves. She was enough to lift his spirits a bit, maybe he could even relay this to her and see if she could pick up on anything he might’ve missed. She had been there the day that this had all started.

The next day rolled in and Spencer had gotten a bit more sleep. So when he woke, he found himself trying a bit harder to look more like a person and less like a haphazard scientist. Still, he wasn’t pulling any showstoppers. Maybe a less wrinkled shirt, or a darker cardigan. Spencer needed to get through his work day first, that was the first obstacle. It went by quietly, he remained at his desk, working his way through a mountain of paperwork with little strain. Spencer noted that Morgan was eyeing him oddly, though he didn’t seem eager to approach Spencer any time soon. The doctor made a note to apologize later, but first he’d get through this.

Two rolled around faster than he’d anticipated, Spencer left work with a nervous sort of jitter and found himself driving down the street of the hotel. Down at the corner, a cafe drew in customers off the curb. He assumed that was the shop he was to meet Y/N at. All the notes were folded in his pocket. Spencer entered the store, greeted with the sharp scent of coffee beans, but he didn’t catch sight of Y/N. Roughly twenty minutes passed by without a notification before Spencer accepted that she wasn’t coming. Disappointment and the sting of embarrassment pulled at him, he shook his head and stood, headed for the door. Then, as he was scanning one last time, he realized something odd. In the corner, resting on a table, a single coffee had gone untouched since he’d first arrived. Which was odd, given that the place was so busy it was unlikely someone was going to leave their cup unattended. And the price point of the drinks meant someone simply wasn’t going to leave a cup discarded. Spencer approached the corner and lifted the drink. Sitting beneath it was another note, the words in the center rimmed with coffee stains.

You snooze, you lose. Find me and you can find her.

His heart rate quickened, at the bottom of the page the number 2 was scrawled. This was a reveal, the opponent unleashing his play and waiting to see the next move. This was a game with high stakes, where Spencer’s next move couldn’t be a risk, it had to be calculated excellence. He gripped the note and stormed out, fighting against traffic to get back to hq. He’d find her, he owed it to her for accidentally getting her involved.

Spencer rushed unto the bullpen, nearly colliding with Emily who had held a hand out to steady him. An expression of surprise and light concern drew together the lines of her face, she let out a breathy chuckle, “ Woah, Spencer. What’s the rush? Some exciting article about Albert Einstein and Quant-”

“ There is a woman missing, and I’m not sure how long she has, Emily.” Spencer rushed, pulling the notes from his pocket and lining them up in the order he’d received them. He pressed them into Emily’s hands, his mouth set into a firm line. Her own face had gone flat, melting into the serene mask of someone who knew personal tragedy. But in her eyes was the cold steel that signified her as an agent of the bureau.

“Who is she?”

Y/N’s face flashed through his head and he was struck with a pang of guilt. Spencer hadn’t managed to get attached yet, but he felt the remorse all the same. This was someone who ahd spoken to him with a fire and wonder about things she genuinely found fascinating. Her eyes had lit up with curiosity. She was a scholar and maybe even one day, she could have been an agent. But now she was a pawn in this crooked game. His next moves were vital.  “ Y/N Y/L/N . Her name is Y/N. She’s about average female height with Y/E/C and Y/H/C. I’m assuming she was last seen at a cafe down by Jefferson Avenue, that’s where I found the last one.”

Emily looked at him from beneath her lashes, questions presenting themselves on her features. “ Reid, how long have you been getting these? He sounds almost comfortable writing to you ... like he knows you.”

“ Two days now,” He admitted, ignoring the surprise on her face, “ It didn’t seem worth mentioning before, but now it is. He wants to challenge me, and he wants to win.”

Emily shook her head, shuffling between the notes, every now and then looking back to Reid for some answer he couldn’t provide.“ Right, but if this is about you and him ... then why take her? She doesn’t fit into his fantasy, ”

He nodded, his fist resting under his chin. “ It could be one of two things, either she’s an acting surrogate fromone in his life, maybe a daughter. Her connection to me could signify that a young man in his life threatened his role in her life. Or, he could be trying to put pressure on me, to get me thinking irrationally enough to where I’ll make a mistake.”

“ If you’re right then maybe he lost someone in his life to someone like you, and this is his way of getting her back,” She suggested, starting back towards their desks, shaking her head as she walked, “ and simultaneously getting back at who took her from him.”

Spencer swallowed dryly, crossing his arms against his chest. “ We’re looking at a challenger.” He was so immersed in their exchange that he hadn’t noticed when Rossi and Morgan had circled around them, listening and peering at each other.

“ So, someone’s got it out for Reid? What did pretty boy do?” Morgan questioned, still not quite looking at Reid, he was staring at Prentiss and the notes clasped in her grip.

The youngest of the agents cleared his throat, looking down at his hands, “ He wants to beat me, maybe to reassure himself or establish dominance. But this is a game of wits to him, so he’s trying to outsmart me. Prove he’s better, somehow. ”

“ Which probably means he feels he’s lacking in some department, normally I’d assume impotence but this guy is driven by a need for intellectual superiority. Maybe a professor, or engineer.” Rossie injected himself into the discussion, watching Spencer closely, “ It’s likely you’re a stand - in for someone in his life who’s gotten the best of him. Maybe a young kid he mentored, someone who surpassed him somehow.”

Derek turned sharply suddenly, and the team followed the familiar hallway to Penelope Garcia’s lair. The door was thrown wide open and a yelp sounded sudden;y from inside.

“ Woah! You and I both know that I love when you get all bad - cop on me, but if you’re gonna barge in, at least use the special knock.” Garcia urged, swatting at Derek. He snorted and rested his hand on her desk, peering down at her.

“ Baby girl, I’m gonna need you to run some check on any Engineers, Professors, or other high - intelligence positions in the area; I’m thinking older men, 45 - 60 even, recently passed over for a promotion or laid off.”

Penelope nodded, her fingers dashing round the keyboard and within the minute she was whistling through her teeth, reading off the results she collected, “ We’ve got one hit, Dr. James Douglass was fired from his job at a lab two weeks ago when his trainee of two years took over the position. ” The image that popped onto the screens was startling, like a splash of cold water waking him up. He’d seen that man before, at the book signing. He’d been lingering by the door, watching the two of them. Then he’d slipped away without a trace.

Spencer shook his head, ready to pipe up for a location.Then, Garcia leaned over quickly and typed something incomprehensibly fast into the keys and the image of a young girl who looked so much like Y/N blinked up at them. “ That’s Dr. Evil’s daughter right there, and it looks like she’s all set to marry her father’s student about two months from now.”

His breath caught, so they were surrogates for the two people in his life who had moved past him. That kind of pain didn’t dissolve, it grew and bubbled into rage. He wouldn’t be kind, and the thought Y/N enduring that penetrated his thoughts.“ Can you get an address?”

“ 5590 Maple Street.”

TO BE CONTINUED 

[excusemewhileiplaykh]

What This Series Means to Me: #ThankYouKingdomHearts

I used to go to a public school right next to my apartment building when I was growing up. Unfortunately, in the 3rd grade,  my mom decided to take me out of there and put me in a private school. A Catholic private school.

I was not happy.

I didn’t want to wear the dumb private school uniform. I didn’t want to go to church. I didn’t want to deal with the strict rules and the praying and all the other stuff that was “not cool” about Catholic school.

I started the 4th grade at my new school and made friends with a girl who I actually knew from elementary school. One day, she brought her KH 1 and 2 copies to school and showed me at lunch. The box art… the instruction manual… Everything was so cool and colorful. I fell in love with it. I especially remember thinking how cool Riku looked, in all his chartreuse yellow wonder.

I went home that day and looked up more stuff on the series and really got into the lore. And by that I mean I spent disgusting amounts of time every day going on kh-vids.net.

I really wanted to buy KH 1 so I can start playing the series with the first game. I wasn’t even sure how much the game was gonna cost me, but I figured it wouldn’t be more than 15 bucks (keep in mind I was in the 4th grade so that was a lot of money to me back then lol). I didn’t bother to look up the price online. Somehow I just knew that price was right. Eventually, I scraped together the money and I was so excited to finally get to buy Kingdom Hearts so I could play it for myself and not live vicariously through kh-vids.net. There was a video game store a block away from my school (my neighborhood didn’t have a Gamestop yet) and I asked my mom if we could go there after school. I asked the guy that works there if he had Kingdom Hearts, but told me he only had 2 and one copy of it at that. I asked him how much and it was exactly 15 dollars, the exact amount I had and the exact amount I had randomly guessed the game would cost.

I was kinda bummed they didn’t have KH 1, but honestly, at that age, KH 1 probably would have been too hard for me and I would have abandoned the series after that bad experience.

So it was like everything in the universe lined up just right for me to get into the series. I guessed the exact price the game would cost me. I bought 2 instead of 1, ensuring I would fall in love with the series. Hell, if I hadn’t gone to private school I never would have gotten into the series cuz I wouldn’t have befriended that girl! We were always in different classes in my public school. I guess it was meant to be.

I went home that day and rapidly did my homework so I could play it. The rest is history. I spent the entirety of that school year playing and beating and replaying that game over and over.

Unfortunately, I lost my original copy of 2 and subsequently lost my favorite game around the time I was in the 5th grade. My discovery and detachment from the series were also at the advent of extreme family issues (which I don’t want to get into).

However, 2 years later, Days came out. I was lucky enough to have a DS at that point so I could play it. My mom bought me a copy about a month after it’s release. Just like 2, I played it over and over again non-stop.  I was kinda mad at the Xion twist at first and thought it was “dumb”. So much so I stopped playing the game for a good 2 weeks. I was so shocked when I saw Sora’s face on Xion that I immediately closed my DS and went to bed in anger. I got over it though. I can still remember beating it while I was sitting on my grandma’s bed. I watched the final cutscene as we were leaving her house that night.

BBS was announced. And I was pissed.

Like most people, we expected KH3, not another “spin-off”. I swore off the series and I said I wouldn’t be buying anymore KH games. Since I wasn’t going to buy that game, I decided to spoil myself. I knew about the x-blade and how Vanitas looked way before the game released in the US. I rolled my eyes at Vanitas looking at Sora and criticized Ventus being a carbon copy of Roxas. I thought to myself, “Wow, this game is gonna be so fucking stupid.”

I was watching abc family one day and commercials were rolling out and one of them was none other than an ad for BBS.

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As soon as the commercial was over I walked into my parent’s room and told them I wanted a psp for Christmas.

Oh and by the way, Birth by Sleep is my favorite KH game now.

The family issue that began while I was still playing 2 intensified during this time. I used BBS to escape. I felt bad for Ven, Aqua, Terra, and Vanitas who were being swept up in the mistakes of others. I could relate.

It’s 2010, I found out Coded, the elusive phone game, was finally coming to the US in 2011. I was excited. I sold Dissidia and Saints Row 2 so I could buy it. Me and my mom hopped the bus to go to gamestop so I could get it because we didn’t have enough money for bus fare. Needless to say, we were in a bad place, but Kingdom Hearts was there to comfort me. I sacrificed a lot for Re:Coded so even though it was bad, I still remember it fondly.

It’s 2012. The Dream Drop Distance demo drops (no pun intended). I was absolutely in love. I was still going through intense hardship because of family issues and I was given another way to escape. Watching Riku face his demons and finally conquer the darkness that was holding him back inspired me. I thought to myself: “Maybe someday I could do the same”. I always loved Riku, but that game really made him a role model for me. I wanted to grow past the circumstances others had put me in too and start to become my own person, a person who was more confident and positive. I played through it twice back to back.

In 2012, I also started high school. Again because of family stuff, I was going through a really hard time and wasn’t immediately making friends at school. I eventually did, but those friends didn’t like video games. I still remembered Kingdom Hearts though.

In 2013, I started my blog and I immediately knew it needed a KH related name. I’ve had the same url since I started. I don’t plan to ever abandon this blog or diverge it from it’s Kingdom Hearts focus. Although my friends weren’t into Kingdom Hearts, I had all of you to talk to about it. Thanks for keeping my interest in the series alive and thanks for all the laughs throughout the years. I really mean that.

In 2013, the promise at the end of Dream Drop Distance seemed like it was about to be fulfilled. Kingdom Hearts 3 was announced to be in development. I remember being in my living room and then going to my room so I could freak out alone. I jumped and scream. I was so excited. I thought I would be playing this game by the end of high school for sure (I am now a Junior in college…)

I didn’t have ps3 at the time the remixes were coming out so I missed out on them initially. Again because of my never-ending family issues, I also lost my 3ds, psp, etc. so I couldn’t play any of my KH games. I was so starved to play one of those games again. My blog kept me connected to Kingdom Hearts during that time though and somewhat slated my desires.

I went over to one of my friend’s houses and she had a ps3 in her room. She said it used to be her brother’s but once he got his ps4, he gave it to her so she could watch Netflix. The ps3 had a Kingdom Hearts wallpaper on it and I thought it was really cool that her brother was into KH like me. I wanted to befriend him so eventually, I did. I started to talk to him in 2014 and we really got along (besides liking KH, we had the same sense of humor, views on life, politics, etc.)

It was 2015, and I had fallen in love with someone and it was all because the fates aligned on that September day in 2007 and I was able to buy the only copy of KH 2 in my local game store and because I managed to guess the exact price of the game. We’re still together today and everyday I feel more and more alive. I can actually say that Kingdom Hearts is one of the main reasons I found love.

Not only did it find me my soulmate, but it also kept me alive and hopeful when I most wanted to die. I always remembered the kind messages the series instills in its players. Small little takeaways and sayings like “There’s a light that never goes out!” or “My friends are my power! And I’m theirs!” or “Come Riku! You’ve been hanging around in the darkness too long! You gotta think positive!”

The series has always been there in some form to bring me happiness and that’s why I can never let it go.

Listen, I’m the first person to admit this series is a trash fire (my blog title is “Mickey Mouse Bullshit”). I will always view the series as a sanctuary (no pun intended), no matter what. As a beacon of hope. Sora’s incessant optimism found some way to infect me. Like Riku, I have become “Sora-esque”. I honestly believe I am the person I am today because of this series and moreover because of its characters who always fight no matter how dark it gets. I am still here because of this series.

So no matter how bad the plot gets or how dumb the time travel shit becomes or how bad the ship wars get or how elitist people are about KH2FM (which is overrated!) or all the “spin-offs” we get or the weird dialogue or all the Xehanorts and all the Soras, etc., etc.,  I will always love this series and support it.

I love Kingdom Hearts. I love Kingdom Hearts because over the years it has shown me how to love and has always loved me.

Thank you, Kingdom Hearts and thank you to this community.