#poets sorry that was rude i know they are called poets sorry sorry sorry

[waitupgirlholdon]

Words from a Shawol to Arohas,

I know how you’re feeling. You don’t feel like it’s real, it can’t be true, you’re reading articles and watching videos about any possible updates. But it’s true and you feel like the ground opened up to swallow you. The unthinkable has happened, and unfortunately it happened to your beloved Moonbin.

I am not too familiar with Astro or Moonbin, but my heart is with you, and I know your pain. I thought I would give you some advice on how to get through this difficult situation.

This is all meant with love.

1, try not to watch videos with clickbait titles about him. There will be, and already is a lot out there trying to capitalize on this news, only take information from reputable sources.

2, the clickbait videos never really end. They use your dear idol to get views by saying rude things or making infuriating thumbnails. Try your best to ignore it and report the video and the account.

3, don’t feel bad if you can’t bring yourself to watch any funeral footage if there is any. It will be painful to witness, and you don’t have to put yourself through that.

4, it’s okay not to want to listen to his music for a while. Take your time and be kind with yourself.

5, find a way to remember him, if you feel it’s appropriate. For me, Jonghyun’s music saved me in a hard time in my life and I plan to get a tattoo in his honor, but I have also named my cat after his last album, Poet|Artist (we call him Poe), and every new years day I listen to a special song of his to welcome the new year.

6, find fellow Arohas to talk to. They need you as much as you need them.

7, when you feel like you can handle it, find joy in the moments Moonbin left for you. Like dance practice bloopers, photos of him smiling.. remember him on the anniversary if his last day, but celebrate him on his birthday.

8, finally, reach out for help if you feel you need it. It may seem silly to mourn someone you never met, but it’s still a very real loss with very real pain.

I hope this advice can help you find a little peace. I am so sorry for your loss.

-A Shawol

[apoemaday]

A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island

by Frank O'Hara

The Sun woke me this morning loud and clear, saying "Hey! I've been trying to wake you up for fifteen minutes. Don't be so rude, you are only the second poet I've ever chosen to speak to personally so why aren't you more attentive? If I could burn you through the window I would to wake you up. I can't hang around here all day." "Sorry, Sun, I stayed up late last night talking to Hal." "When I woke up Mayakovsky he was a lot more prompt" the Sun said petulantly. "Most people are up already waiting to see if I'm going to put in an appearance." I tried to apologize "I missed you yesterday." "That's better" he said. "I didn't know you'd come out." "You may be wondering why I've come so close?" "Yes" I said beginning to feel hot wondering if maybe he wasn't burning me anyway. "Frankly I wanted to tell you I like your poetry. I see a lot on my rounds and you're okay. You may not be the greatest thing on earth, but you're different. Now, I've heard some say you're crazy, they being excessively calm themselves to my mind, and other crazy poets think that you're a boring reactionary. Not me. Just keep on like I do and pay no attention. You'll find that people always will complain about the atmosphere, either too hot or too cold too bright or too dark, days too short or too long. If you don't appear at all one day they think you're lazy or dead. Just keep right on, I like it. And don't worry about your lineage poetic or natural. The Sun shines on the jungle, you know, on the tundra the sea, the ghetto. Wherever you were I knew it and saw you moving. I was waiting for you to get to work. And now that you are making your own days, so to speak, even if no one reads you but me you won't be depressed. Not everyone can look up, even at me. It hurts their eyes." "Oh Sun, I'm so grateful to you!" "Thanks and remember I'm watching. It's easier for me to speak to you out here. I don't have to slide down between buildings to get your ear. I know you love Manhattan, but you ought to look up more often. And always embrace things, people earth sky stars, as I do, freely and with the appropriate sense of space. That is your inclination, known in the heavens and you should follow it to hell, if necessary, which I doubt. Maybe we'll speak again in Africa, of which I too am specially fond. Go back to sleep now Frank, and I may leave a tiny poem in that brain of yours as my farewell." "Sun, don't go!" I was awake at last. "No, go I must, they're calling me." "Who are they?" Rising he said "Some day you'll know. They're calling to you too." Darkly he rose, and then I slept.

[betasquadx]

hey bae listen i been trying to find niko’s angst fanfic anywhere but i cant find one so maybe if you could just write it for me… you know wut im sayin 🤭

I get you I get you.. Im genuinely so bad at writing angst because it hurts my heart and soul (wow im a poet) to write it sometimes but I tried my best with this so please give me tips guys😭 idk if this is good but we need more angst insecure niko fics.

Tough - Niko Omilana

Summary : Niko gets jealous when a cashier ‘flirts’ with you, however giving you the cold shoulder doesn’t fix that, but after you confront him, something you never expected happens.

Warnings : Angst, insecure Niko☹️.

———

You stood at Niko’s door. Banging on it repeatedly until he answered. Today hadn’t exactly gone as planned, and having heard no response, you pounded on the door even louder, forcing him to open it to avoid a potential noise complaint.

As he carelessly strolled away, flopping onto the bed while sighing, you swiftly followed him in, running your hands through your hair as you took deep breaths, trying to remain calm.

"Niko, please, just talk to me," you whispered, sitting beside him on the bed. "I know you know damn well that I have eyes for you and only you.’’

Avoiding your gaze, he rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, sure, so you flirt with the cashier,' he claimed. Chuckling softly as you closed your eyes. 'Niko, he asked how my day was. I didn't want to be rude. It's called having manners,' you replied, frustration evident in your tone.

Niko, who had been deliberately ignoring you and giving you the cold shoulder since the cashier incident, finally locked eyes with you.

He sucked in his cheeks, closing his eyes, and then, to your surprise, you witnessed something you never thought you’d see.. or even that it was possible Niko Omilana was..crying?

He pulled his legs in, lowering his head as he wrapped his arms around his knees. Without hesitation, you joined him, your arm around his shoulder, gently running your fingers through his hair. 'Baby, what's wrong?' you whispered softly.

Watching Niko cry was a hurtful sight to witness. He released silent sobs, his legs trembling beneath him. ''I'm sorry,' he whispered repeatedly, the words interspersed between his sobs.

Gently lifting his head, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek. ''Please don't apologise'', you said softly, witnessing tears streaming down his face as he squeezed your hand.

He rested his head on your chest while you held him close in a warm embrace. Amidst his sobbing, the only words you could make out were 'I'm sorry'' as you ran your fingers through his hair, placing gentle kisses on his cheek.

"It's okay baby, it's okay," you whispered into his ears, your voice gentle and reassuring. His sobs transforming into soft breaths as you quickly comforted him, tucking the blanket around him while embracing him in a hug.

He clung onto you tightly as you wiped his tears away. You had never seen this side of him before, sure, he had opened up to you, but witnessing Niko sobbing or even crying was far from ordinary.

You had a sense that he acted tough at times, deep down you also knew some of it was a facade, but you never expected that he was holding this much in. After somewhat calming down, he looked up at you, attempting to speak but struggling to find the right words.

You pressed a soft kiss on his lips, gazing into his eyes. "Take your time, baby," you said gently, your fingers tracing his cheek as he weakly smiled up at you. "'I love you.'" He whispered.

A smile graced your lips as you enveloped him in a warm embrace, tenderly running your fingers through his hair. Beneath the covers, his leg instinctively wrapped around yours as you held each other close.

"I..I'm not sure why I reacted like that earlier, baby," he said gently. "I had this thought that you might leave me for him," he admitted softly. You chuckled, kissing his cheek. "I would never, baby," you reassured him.

A smile appeared on his face. "I know you wouldn't..sometimes I overthink stuff like that," he admitted, stumbling over his words. ‘Well, you know you can always talk to me about those things," you offered. A smile appeared on his face. "I love you," he expressed, "So much..’’ he finished. "I love you too," you responded, both of you embracing each other tightly, not wanting to let go.

[thyandrawrites]

idk if you can answer this but do you know if the bllk characters are as crazy and rude with their dialogue in the original japanese manga too like with the fan translation? sorry for any english mistake. hope you have a good week :)

your english is fine, don't worry!

good question, by the way. Thank you for sending it my way because it gave me the opportunity to skim a few chapters in japanese, and I got a good chuckle from some of the things I found.

So. About the reply. Are they still crazy? yes. What about rude then? this one is more fun to answer. As a general rule of thumb, japanese dialogue often has a lot less curse-words and random insults thrown around, just because japanese as a language relies on other things to be rude. Mainly, socially inadequate registers, directness, and lack of honorifics. For the most part this holds true for blue lock as well. Some of the times you see the character cussing out, in japanese there are no swear words, but just more direct or otherwise less polite lines. See: in the last chapter, Karasu's "dumdums" isn't there in japanese. I know. I'm heartbroken about that too.

BUT. I guess blue lock breaks from the norm even in this respect. A lot of its most... colorful language, even in translation, is true to the original lines, actually. Lemme just bring up three of my favourite examples.

yep. he says all that. he literally calls him "mountain of vomit and shit big brother" saljkfjankfsja Rin, you sure have a way with words. A true poet of our time.

Then there's Yukki.

Oh, Yukki.

In japanese this line is "お前カイザーと同類のマウント糞野郎だわ" (omae kaizaa to dourui no maunto kusoyarou da wa) which cracks me up because he's almost echoing Rin above. What's phrased as "self-serving shithead" here, if translated literally, is even more colorful in japanese. Kusoyarou means piece of shit, while maunto is "mountain" (the same word that got translated as "pile" in Rin's line). So Yukki is more or less not just calling Isagi a piece of shit, but a whole mountain of shit. Talk about extra. "Shithead" is a good workaround to make the line more natural in english but I feel like it isn't quite as funny as the original, lmao

And then, of course. Isagi's response.

snalfkna I kid you not this is an almost word by word translation of what he's saying. The only thing that isn't there in japanese is the "narcissist" part (he just says "fucker" but the rest is there. Yep. Even that.

So yes, the boys are still rude assholes in the original japanese manga as well, haha

With one caveat: from what I've seen, the official translation is much more accurate to the og phrasing than any of the fan scanlations. The former tends to maintain as much of the nuance as possible, while fan scans sometimes miss some details. The latter also tend to add more swears or downright mistranslate bits at times

[desire-mona]

Could I ask for a mini ramble on why Keating is your favourite character? Poised with a notebook and pen to take down notes haha

YES!!!!!!!

BECAUSE NOBODY EVER TALKS ABOUT HIM AND THATS HONESTLY SO RUDE!!!!!!!

so like. keating; let's talk about that

we desperately need to acknowledge that keating is an amazing man right down to his core. he is so passionate about living life in a way that makes him feel fulfilled that he makes it his main goal to teach others how to do the same.

he experienced the same exact thing as the poets, remember, the movie makes a big deal of how nothing at welton changes. he had the same exact oppressive environment growing up as they did, so he knew exactly how to connect to these boys.

HIS INTENTIONS AND ACTIONS WERE NOTHING BUT PURE, AND THATS WHAT MAKES HIS ENDING ALL THE MORE DEVASTATING.

every single one of his peers and superiors fully believed that neil's death was keatings fault, and actively shunned him for it. not a singular person that wasnt a Teenager in his community understood what he was trying to do. welton painted the narrative that keating taught these insane useless lessons about breaking the rules BUT NEED! I! REMIND! YOU! HE MADE A PRETTY BIG EMPHASIS ON THE FACT THAT U GOTTA BE SMART ABT IT! he called out charlie for the call from god thing for a reason!!

another crazy devastating thing abt keating + neils death is the fact that neil was understanding exactly what carpe diem mean's IMMEDIATELY. AND WAS ACTING ON IT!! he pursued things that he knew would make him happy and fulfilled in the long run, he knew what he wanted to do with his life and he took the first opportunity to get it. the exact fucking definition of seizing the day. keating was REACHING THIS KID SO WELL!! HE WAS UNDERSTANDING EXACTLY WHAT HE WAS SAYING!!! AND THEN!!! AND THEN!!!!!!!!!!

so imagine this. you grow up in the most rigid, boring, unchanging environment and decide fuck it, im gonna Do Something for Myself for Once. you start to think oh, this is actually kinda sick, doing things that make me happy. you escape the environment that aims to essentially make these Children into what their idea of successful is. (quick reminder that there are actual children also attending welton. like kids. like 9 year olds n shit.) you actually chase after every opportunity to be what your idea of successful is, and were so passionate about that way of living that you learned how to teach others how to do it. and also poetry and stuff.

so youre doing exactly that, you finally got to a point where youre doing exactly what you wanna do, and teaching these kids in a situation just like yours. and its going SO WELL! there's this one kid who just GETS IT and is doing it flawlessly and then - oh !

and now everyone around you is like um wtf this is your fault actually. SO YOU HAVE TO PROCESS THE FACT THAT YOUR STUDENT IS DEAD ON TOP OF HAVING TO RELIVE THE ENVIRONMENT YOU HATED AND ACTIVELY WORKED AGAINST YOUR ENTIRE LIFE. AND NOW YOU HAVE NO INCOME OR COMMUNITY OR HOME OR FRIENDS. AND THE ONLY PEOPLE THAT KNOW YOU ARENT A MURDERER ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. AND YOUR WIFE LIVES IN ANOTHER COUNTRY. OH AND ALSO YOUR RESUME IS RUINED AND ITLL PROBABLY BE PRETTY HARD TO FIND ANOTHER JOB IF YOU CAN AT ALL.

AND YOU HAVE CANCER. HE HAS CANCER IN THE OG SCRIPT.

keating is my personal description of raw devastation. all of who you are and what you wanted to be is in shambles because of something that isnt your fault. but almost everyone around you thinks it is your fault. and we're just gonna move on from that? thats it? thats the end of the story? no more keating after that?????? downright evil. more people gotta talk about this wonderful man!!!!!

also very sorry if this makes no sense, im quite high. but also shameless self promo pls interact with my ask blog @ask-captain-keating bc i lob running it. pleags. ily for asking this btw!!!!

[surwitch]

Merlin's destiny is to be the one who loves. \\ headcannon

[I apologize for the mistakes in the text, (because English is not my native language), but I hope you like it!!!] Merlin forever be lover. He fall in love once and forever. He never forgets anybody. They all have a place in his heart.

Merlin loves people and they love him. Merlin love knights of Camelot and they love him.

Lancelot be first and when he gone Merlin feels like he lost part of his heart. Lancelot is courage and sincerity. And when he leaves, he takes some of it with him. Lancelot leaves twice and both times Merlin cries, feeling the loss of his own courage.

Gawaine was second and he be on Merlin side to the end. Gawain was power and truth. Sometimes harsh and rude, but true. Gawain is dying in the forests of Camelot and when Percival tells Merlin about it, he finds him. Another boat in the lake. Merlin feels that he is losing his own strength.

Freya was destiny. Freya felt like liberation and the possibility of a new life. Freya smiled when she left. Freya left beloved and gently releasing Merlin's heart. Freya was his salvation in the eternity that he lived on. Merlin doubts destiny when Freya becomes the lady of the lake. Because Destiny constantly takes away from him those whom he loves.

Gwen and Morgana be a big part of Merlin heart. When Morgana left, he was left with regret and choking grief. As he stabbed her with sword, he whispered "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" into her mind, but she didn't listen anymore. It was too late for these words. When Gwen left, he was as young as the day she was left as the sole ruler of Camelot. She left and took Camelot with her. She takes big part of Merlin heart and he never forget.

Arthur come in Merlin heart without invitation. He just grows up there. And he gone too. Because Merlin let someone else's words guide him. He left because Merlin chose to trust Destiny and not his own heart. Arthur became not a part, but the whole heart of Merlin. And his heart was crushed.

Therefore, when everyone he loved in Camelot dies, he leaves there. He tells Fate to "I believe you fucking choke" and goes where his heart tells him.

Merlin loves. His heart never heals. But he's recovering. He continues to love.

He falls in love with the world, he falls in love with society, he falls in love with uprisings and how people's hearts burn.

Merlin falls in love with the poet Ophelia, who helps him write a collection about Camelot. He falls in love with her courage and honesty. He falls in love with her desire to know all the stories she can catch. She dies early, but he always remembers where her grave is.

Merlin falls in love with the soldier Carlos. Merlin heals him and listens to his stories of faith and hope for a better future and allows himself to believe with him. Carlos dies on the field a year later. Merlin never forgets to believe in the best when he sees the date of death on the calendar.

Merlin falls in love with singers, bar owners, dancers, politicians, weavers. Merlin falls in love with people and remembers them all.

He never allows himself to forget.

And when Freya calls him to the lake, he goes there with faith in the best. He goes there with a million stories to tell. He goes there and catches Arthur in his arms, feeling that his heart has fallen into place. He looks into the lake and smiles at Freya. He looks into the lake and hopes that everyone he loved sees him and smiles with him.

[unindoctrinated125]

I'm genuinely curious, how do you post the image about how anyone can become evil with the woman shooting the naked man, and then make a reference to the day of Rope? What do you think is the difference between what you reference, and what is happening in that image? I won't say that I don't have my own biases and intentions in asking this, but this is not meant to be hostile, it is a genuine question, because I would really like to understand how you think. Also, if you want I can take down the reply on that post, I realize now it may have been a bit rude it's just the first thing I thought of, so sorry about that.

@hidesinthedark you are welcome to leave your reply up. You obviously don't understand where i am coming from, and i will gladly try to explain.

I believe that this is the image that you are referring to?

First that is not a woman shooting a naked man. It is a female Nazi shooting a naked Jewish women. Maybe that understanding will clarify things a little bit for you.

It is important to know history. It's important to understand evil when you see it. It's important to recognize when you see history repeating itself.

The quote underneath the image is from Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. He was a poet and a thinker who survived the communist takeover of Russia. Here is more of his work.

What we are seeing today is a repeat of what happened in Nazi Germany almost 100 years ago. What we are seeing today is a repeat of what Solzhenitsyn witnessed shortly before that.

Think about the resent Covid hysteria. Remember when people started asking for vaccine passports? Remember restricting entrance to restaurants, theaters, public transportation to the unvaccinated? Remember how families were divided and the compliant thought themselves virtuous? . The Nazis did the very same thing to the Jewish people. They thought the Jews dirty, ignorant, and less than human.

The female Nazi in the image above is being compliant. Funny thing is that the Jewish women is also being compliant. Compliance didn't benefit either of them. The Jewish women died, and likely because of this image the female Nazi was hung for her crimes against humanity. If somehow she escaped the rope, she would have had to live with the guilt for the rest of her life.

Had she been hanged that would have been JUSTICE. Real JUSTICE. Not the filth that we call social justice today. (You will have to read some of my other post to grasp the truth of what i just said here, but this is not the time to get into all that.) Perhaps you had heard of the Nuremberg Trials? Justice, REAL JUSTICE, was brought about with the employ of ROPE.

There were many hanged who tried to use the excuse of "We were only following orders." and "I only did what I was told to do." This argument didn't fly because you as an individual have an obligation to the rest of humanity to stop such atrocities. You have a mind and you are in control of your actions. You cannot commit crimes against humanity even if the crime is sanctioned by law. (Laws do not constitute morality. Again, you will have to read my other post on this matter.)

Now, my Christian brother, I will say again something that I often say: "There are two great problems in America today. The first is that the People have forgotten to fear God. The second is that the government has forgotten to fear The People.

If you call yourself a Christian, but have traded Justice for social justice, then u would say that you are not a Christian at all. God is Justice. God demands Justice. Right living demands Justice, and God, Justice, and right living all have the authority to end a life that is in violation of the laws of Nature and Nature's God. There is a time to kill. But that time can only be when Justice is on your side. There needs to be justification in the taking of another life.

To take another human life requires an examination of the evidence, a true crime having been committed and the crime must be horrific in nature. Rape, murder and child molestation come to mind. Mass genocide is right up there.

I know that this is a longer answer than you expected, and i really have more to say. I will end by simply stating that when I say that I believe in Rope, what i mean is i believe in JUSTICE, REAL JUSTICE. Justice that ends with the criminals being hung for their crimes against humanity.

Read my other post by following the hashtags Repair the Wall, COVID-1984, upsidedown flag, and responsibility. I really am pulling for you and

God bless America

And

I believe in Rope!

[justarandompjofan]

The First Dead Poets

The Guys

i’m leaving for camp tomorrow so i decided, screw it, i’m going to try to get two updates in today.

tw: smoking, swearing

    John stared at the letter in front of him. The first time his parents had written and all they had said was that they hoped his grades were high. He crumpled it up and chucked it across the room, before screaming into his pillow. God, he was just pissed. His parents didn’t care about him. He didn’t think they ever had. They weren’t ever harsh to him, but they didn’t care. They acted like he was some random kid that they barely knew. John grabbed his lighter and held up the photo of his parents that he had over his bed. He hated that photo. He held the flame over the edge of the paper and watched as it crept across it.

     “John? You okay?” someone said from the doorway. He dropped the photo and stomped it out. He saw James leaning against the door frame, raising an eyebrow.

    “Yeah, sorry.”

     “What were you doing?”

     “…burning a photo of my parents.”

      “I should try that,” he said, sitting down on his bed.

      “Are they…?”

      “My dad just expects a lot, you know? But I can’t complain, it’s how most parents are. I’m getting away from here as soon as I can.”

     “Oh?”

     He nodded, “I want to go out west, to California. Get as far away as I can and be able to actually breathe for once. I just have to finish this school year.”

     “My plan is England.”

     “What’s in England?”

     “Poetry. Plus Jessie wants to go there to play in some fancy orchestra that I can’t remember the name of for the life of me.”

      “You’d move across the world for her? Aren’t you moving a little fast?”

      “No, I’ve always wanted to move there. It just works well.”

      “Well then I guess a poet like yourself would say it was fate, hm?”

       He shrugged, “I don’t know if I believe in fate. I’d like to think we have some control over our lives, you know? That we’re not just puppets going along with what’s written in the stars.”

       “God, Keating. That’s good enough to cause an existential crisis.”

       “That wasn’t the goal, but I’ll take it.” They sat there for a moment, trying to think of what to say.

       James shifted on his bed, “Hey, uh, John?”

      “What’s up?”

      “What…what do you think about gay people?”

      “What do you mean?” he asked, taken aback.

      “I mean…are you okay with it?”

      “I don’t really care who people love, it’s none of my business.”

      “What would you do if one of your friends was…you know…gay?”

     Something clicked in his head, “James?”

     “What?”

     “Are you-“

     “I never said that.”

     “You’re not as subtle as you think.” He paused, “And uh, for the record, my answer is that I would still be their friend. I would support them.”

      James sighed in relief, “Oh thank god.”

      “So I was right?”

      “Yeah.” John gasped.

      “John, I thought you were okay with it!”

      “No, it’s not that…you and Will.”

      “I mean-“

      “Oh my god, it makes sense now. Will always reads Whitman…I knew I remembered that name! My dad mentioned him once. Not in a great way, but-oh!”

       James laughed, “Really, John?”

       “Do you have a problem with my geniusness?”

       “Absolutely. And uh, thanks, by the way.”

       “For what?”

       “For not being an ass.”

       “Such a high bar.”

        James scoffed, “You'd be surprised.” He removed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. He flipped it open, bringing the tip of the cigarette to the flame, “Want a smoke?”

        “I’m good,” John said, shaking his head. “Thanks, though.”

        “Of course.” He took a puff of the cigarette, letting the smoke disappear into the air.

        The door flung open, “I hate Hager so much.”

        “What happened, Charles?”

        He fell onto the bed next to John, “He told me that if I didn’t get my grade up, which is a B- by the way, he’d call my parents.”

       “Ugh, don’t take it personally, he’s got a stick up his-“

       “Charles, you are lying on my ribs,” John coughed out.

       “Sorry, John, it’s how I show love.”

        “Remind me why we’re friends?”

        “Because I’m the cool older kid?”

        “Cool isn’t the right word.”

       He shoved him, “You suck.”

       “You swallow.”

       “John!”

       He laughed, “Sorry, Charles.”

       “He is so rude to me. James, I don’t know how you live with him.”

        James nudged him, “What can I say, he’s a good kid.”

        “You say that as if I’m not five months younger than you.”

        “I repeat, kid.”

        “Asshole.”

        “Jonathan!”

        He raised an eyebrow, “James, that is fully not my name.”

        “It’s not?”

        “It’s clearly Johnabeth,” Charles joked, still thrown over John’s stomach.

         “No, no. In all seriousness, what is it short for?”

         “It’s not short for anything. It’s just John.”

         “Are you sure?”

         “Am I sure?” John repeated incredulously. “Yeah I’m pretty fucking sure I know my own name.”

         “Tsk, tsk, again with the language. What happened to our innocent young boy?”

          “He roomed with you?”

          James nodded, “Checks out. You know I-“ He was cut off by the door opening and Will running in.

       “Is John in here?”

       He pushed Charles off of him and sat up, “Right here. What’s up?” Will looked frantic, his eyes darting at the faces in the room.

       “Jessica’s on the phone. And…and something’s really wrong.”

@emilythefern @theluminoussunflower @sup3r-n0vaa @iguanamuppet @chloe-octavia 

[evanthenerd83]

“A Helping Hand”

You might be asking yourself: didn’t I leave this sheet blank?

Well, don’t be scared. It was. I just filled it out for you.

Can’t stand seeing paper remain blank, you see. The white just screams blasphemy. A part of me weeps at the sight. And I must fix it.

Now you might be asking another question: who are you?

Do not be afraid. I am not some intruder, waiting out of sight with a hammer in one hand and duct tape in the other, wearing a ski mask. I have no intention of robbing you. Or harming you.

Nor am I a ghost. I was never truly human. I did not die while using this typewriter, and am now haunting it. You will not find threats here. On this page.

I am what I am. And what I am, sir, is a type of fairy. A brownie who hates housework. I do not have a name. You won’t find my kind in any of your fairy tales or encyclopedias. Trust me.

I have looked.

We tend to help out with your kind. Authors. Poets. Essayists.

If you use paper, and are having trouble filling that paper with facts or fiction, then you can count on us. On me.

No need to get up from your seat.

Yes. I knew you were going to stand up, most likely in shock. No. Don’t ask me how I knew that.

Asking such a question is rude.

I know that this is weird. Your kind (that is, humans, not writers) have always dismissed us as mere fantasy. The beliefs of fools who spit on the ground whenever they see a black cat.

Can’t really blame you. We tend to avoid the spotlight. Crowds drive us nuts. And cell phones can give us headaches.

Your name is Fred. Right? You don’t need to answer that. Just a formality.

You can call me… Helperson.

Get it?

Like… Helper?

I know. A terrible joke.

But I’m just trying to break the ice. Make a great first impression.

I should have probably told you this before. It is too late to get rid of me. Once you let me fill out a blank sheet of paper, that’s it. I’m hired.

Or more like bonded. With you. Like a familiar and a witch, except I can’t really talk. And I can’t help you perform rituals. Not like you would want to.

But what I can do is write. Or type. I can also click save before you exit out of the program you are using (what is it, anyway? Microsoft Word?) without thinking.

And I did publish some novels. Back when the previous owner lived here. I forgot his name, but he was pretty famous. For a time.

You might have read them. How old are you?

Oh, and what type of font do you like the most? Use the most? The space length between words? Average word count per day?

Sorry.

I’m excited.

So…

… what do you say?

Just nod your head.

Excellent!

Thank you!

So much!

You won’t regret this!

I promise!

And don’t worry, I can delete this!

Want More? 👇🏻

[mylitlekitten]

Best friend breakup

I remember it like it was yesterday

The way you left me battered and bruised

When you left without warning

What made you do it I wonder

Was I not good enough for you?

Why wouldn't you try for our friendship?

Was it you?

Was it me?

Why did you leave?

You left so abruptly

You left me alone

You left, you left, you left

A great poet once said,

"All of my enemies started out friends"

She couldn't be more right

You were my best friend

My closest confidant

The sister of my soul

We shared a close bond, you and I

But I guess it wasn't close enough

Not for you at least

It wasn't even an argument

And yet we treated it like one

Why did you leave me?

I wanted space

You wanted... something

I'm still not sure what it was

For the first time ever

I asked for an apology

And you threw it in my face

"I'm sorry" over dm isn't an apology

Removing me as a follower isn't an apology

Posting about me on social media isn't an apology

Ending our friendship without communication

That's not healthy

We should have talked

Yelling at me in front of coworkers

That was hypocritical

You are a hypocrite

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you

And yet I can't stop

Can't stop thinking about, and missing, our friendship

I remember it like it was yesterday

The disagreement

The silence

And then hearing about the end of it

From a coworker no less

You're a total bitch, you know that?

I hate you,

I hate you,

I hate you

I see you at work

One day you're nice, and act like we're cool

The next day you're rude and cruel

You act like you're the center of attention

Everyone's your friend despite you berating them constantly

Little do you know what they call you

You have a nickname at work

I didn't make it, I don't use it, but I know it

Sometimes you deserve it though (most times)

"Bitchy" they call you when you can't hear

I wonder if they know how accurate it is

Do you know they call you this?

I highly doubt it

After all, you have so many "friends"

I was that once, your friend

It's over now

Now that we don't talk

No one ever talks about the best friend breakup

[driftwoodframe]

Lol, like WHAT the fuck…

I’m awfully much sorry. Speaking English here. Oh my gosh, resin rude.

Doctors even want to tell us we cannot be poets

The keys.

Having everything is overrated.

Those grandkids of yours… destroying each other… for love.

No.

Ego. It’s never love.

Yeah I know you guys like my work. Some is called fine literature.

[painsandconfusion]

Whumping the Whumpers Masterpost

The story of how a chronic whumpee(Ethan) teams up with his past whumper(Nate) to get revenge on the whumpers who have whumped him before. Lots of angst. Lots of whump. My babies, honestly.

(SO sorry the Hyperlinks inside the first four posts won’t work since I moved blogs. I tried to fix them and tumblr glitched tf out. You’ll have to navigate with the masterpost. I’m so sorry, please message me if you need help finding something tumblr ate.)

Click here for most recent update of the list (in case you’re looking at an rb or something).

Please read individual trigger warnings for each post.

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Whumper: Nate Walker (he/him) Whumpe(e)/(r ): Ethan Scott (he/him)

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Main Storyline:

Part One: Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, but... Whumptober post (sorry it’s nameless). Nate re-captures Ethan, and is less than thrilled by Ethan’s newfound pain tolerance and ‘bitch make me’ attitude. . Part Two: Blood Redd Nate thinks Ethan might like to see Redd again. . Part Three: Whisked Away Nate is butt-hurt Ethan didn’t call him. They got problems that need attending to. . Part Four: You Know You Want To... Rescue mission. Nate is creepy (cuz when is he not), and Ethan struggles with himself and his desires. . Part Five: My True North Ethan does a really really good job almost maybe making good choices. . Part Six: Such a Good Girl... Nate isn’t great at not getting what he wants. . Part Seven: The Bartlett Café Boys eat food, boys talk murder. Nate’s creepy but in a cute way. Mostly fluff. . Part Eight: So Flinchy! Alec gets Anna settled in to her new hell home. . Part Nine: Get in, Bitch, We’re Going Shopping Wait...you don’t buy matching outfits with your bestie to wear when you kidnap someone? You’re missing out. . Part Ten: Pretty Little Noises Nate and Anna have their first session. She’s really cute. Nate almost can’t handle it, she’s so adorable. . Part Eleven: Save a Horse, Swipe a Cowboy Aww look! Their first kidnapping together. Honey, get the camera! . Part Twelve: In the Zone The boys get Elias settled at Nate's dungeon place. Ethan is too shy to whump in front of anyone else yet. Poor baby. . Part Thirteen: No One Owns Me Ethan really needs to keep his emotions in check if he wants to be a good whumper. Elias really needs to not push buttons if he wants to not die. . Part Fourteen: Blowing Off Steam Nate is stuck with damage control after being denied ~fun~ but is doing a great job. . Part Fifteen: Chaos Anna is in too much pain to not have any marks to show for it. Rude, honestly. . Part Sixteen: Right and Wrong Ethan broods like a depressed, half drunk poet (like he always does) to tell us about Our Merry Little Murderers' origin story. . Part Seventeen: Own Destiny Ethan broods again because that's who he is as a person. He's tired of not knowing what to do with himself or his life....so Nate and he come to an arrangement. . Part Eighteen: Fluffy Pancakes Listen. Guys. I know you want to get to the whump, but....Well, Nate was craving blueberry pancakes. And I don't have the heart to tell him no. So you get fluff before the brutal torture. Sorrynotsorry . Part Nineteen: Gruel 101 Nate likes oatmeal. Ethan hates Elias. Nuff said. . Part Twenty: You're Going To Need Your Strength Elias hates the oatmeal. Everyone hates everyone. Fun fluffy angst. . Part Twenty-One: Bigger Fish Frikkin finally we get to actually hurt Elias - Nate bleeds because @cryptidhongo drew me a feral shroom in exchange. Fight them, not me. . Part Twenty-Two: Master A little bit of karma is good for the soul. . Part Twenty-Three: Hiding From Everyone has secrets. Who's closet is this skeleton going in? . Part Twenty-Four: Run, Anna Runn Well. I mean, at least you can try. Good luck tho. Her last name is Gunn; I did not misspell, it is a punn >:p . Part Twenty-Five: Ship in a Bottle ...Ethan didn't have a great childhood. This is just one exhibit of that fact. . Part Twenty-Six: Scream for Me I scream, you scream, we all scream for therapy. . Part Twenty-Seven: Valentines Special Just fluff. Nate likes Ethan, Ethan likes laser tag, it all works out in the end. . Part Twenty-Eight: The Carrot and the Stick Throwback episode to four years ago. Meet Johnny. Ethan's first love and unfortunate whipping boy. . Part Twenty-Nine: Lacuna Time to get Crawford in the basement already. Also - seems like Ethan has history with him? Whatever, I'm sure the plot will unravel it eventually.

Part Thirty: Not the Knife Crawford's pretty sure he's just already getting a bit of a break for his first night in Nate's workshop. This can't be that bad .....right?

Part Thirty-One: Concrete Crawford isn't doing so hot with that, actually. He'd rather get carved up. Ethan think's that's a great idea.

Part Thirty-two: Strikeout Failed escapes. Amiright?

Part Thirty-three: Nightmares and Daydreams The boys can't sleep. Toss in some gore and fluff and you got yourself a chapter update. Bam.

Part Thirty-four: Die Here Anna is starting to come to terms with her fate. Nate thinks that's cute. Short and sweet. Anna learns Ethan used to be in her shoes. Maybe he still is...

Part Thirty-five: Bath Good boys who take pain well get restful relaxation (probably?)

Part Thirty-six: Something's Not Right Not all wounds are visible.

Part Thirty-seven: Silent Stranger Keep quiet.

Part Thirty-eight: Off Guard Sometimes whumpees get out of their handcuffs. Sometimes, in a room full of weapons, they grab one while they wait for the doors to unlock.

Part Thirty-nine: Kristen Throwback to 'Anna is a bitch'.

Part Forty: Yours to Lose Nate gets pissy when other kids break his toys and Ethan is a drama queen. What else is new?

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Ghost of Ethan Past

(flashback scenes from Ethan's days as a whumpee)

Stay Down: Elias hasn't had Ethan long, and Ethan is doing a very very very bad job at the 'get on your fucking knees when I enter a room' rule.

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Random Stuff:

You know how people have spirit animals? Well this is Nate and Ethan’s spirit tiktok....Thought you might wanna see...

Nates house visual reference.

Whumpee Ethan noncon mody modification collar alternative

Nates Custom Chuck Taylors

(tags: @prisonerwhump, @whumpawink, @mabledonut, @heathenwhump, @paleassprince, @happy-little-sadist, @wormwriting, @distinctlywhumpthing, @whump-cafe @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @azayta @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @batfacedliar-yetagain @there-will-always-be-blood @siren-of-agony @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions @deltaxxk @whumpasaurus101 @pickywhumpreader @whumpberry-cookie @morning-star-whump @shelfsdesires @throwawaywhumper @the-mourning-stars @d-cs @pigeonwhumps @hold-back-on-the-comfort @suspicious-whumping-egg @snakebites-and-ink @whumpedydump @orphans-parent @rainbowsandwhumperflies)

As always, lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

[luvidzy]

☆ genre: fluff

☆ pairing: kim seungmin x reader

☆ summary: an anonymous person is writing poetry and you are determined to get to the bottom of it

☆ word count: 3.2k

You honestly hadn’t even noticed at first. You weren’t really into the school paper, so you didn’t read it very often unless Felix decided there was something interesting you just had to know. Which is exactly how you found out about your secret admirer posting about you in the paper.

“Y/N, you have to see this!” Felix’s voice rang out as he slid into the seat next to you. You looked up, less than thrilled to be interrupted in the middle of trying to study for your Greek Classics test tomorrow, but you couldn’t stop yourself from setting your pencil down at Felix’s excited expression.

“Yes, Felix?” You asked, trying to hide the exasperation in your voice. If Felix noticed, he didn’t let him affect his excitement as he pulled the school paper out from under his arm, unrolled it and smacked it down on the table in front of you.

Your eyes scanned the front page, trying to figure out what Felix was so eager to show you, but nothing stood out. There was an article about the softball team, an article about an upcoming concert by 3racha, and a column that was talking about new things to do on campus. Nothing particularly interesting, and also nothing that you hadn’t seen before in the paper.

“So I was looking at the paper, and something caught my eyes. Come on, you have to read it,” Felix urged, his eyes sparkling as his freckles crinkled beside his eyes. You rested your forearms on the table, signalling to him that you were listening. Felix began to flip through the pages, before he landed on one of the latter ones. 

His finger pointed out a small section of writing in the upper right hand corner. You squinted slightly, bringing the paper closer so you could look at the words. From what you could tell it, was a small three line poem that anyone would overlook if you weren’t paying attention. Lucky enough for you, Lee Felix always paid attention to the paper.

she sits so sweetly

sweater too big on her back

perfect to me

Eyes wondering over the black lettering, you felt your eyebrows furrow. There was no signature and not even a hint of who the poem might be addressed to. It seemed so out of place, yet your curiosity was growing every second.

“Does anyone know who wrote it?” You asked, turning to Felix. The blonde shook his head, pouting slightly.

“I asked Seungmin, but he said that they had just found it on one of the desks in an envelope with a note asking them to publish it,” Felix explained. You sighed, before sliding the paper away from you in favor of getting back to your studying.

“Well, keep me updated. Maybe next time we’ll know who this mysterious poet is, or maybe who he’s writing to.” Felix nodded eagerly, before pulling the paper back towards him and opening it up to read while you continued to study.

Of course, the poem wasn’t dropped there as Felix brought it up to your friends again that night as you hung out in Chan and Changbin’s apartment.

“It’s romantic, for sure. But I feel like it would be even more romantic if the person who it was for actually KNEW it was for them, ya know?” Jisung said as he threw a cheeto in the air and tried to catch it in his mouth. You stifled a giggle behind your hand as the cheeto flew back down and hit him in the face, causing him to pout.

“Maybe they wanted to test the waters? See if the person responded well before they actually did anything that might give them away?” Jeongin suggested, before stuffing some M&Ms into his mouth. Seungmin shrugged as he leaned back into his chair.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see if we get any more envelopes.” You sighed, smiling slightly as you leaned back into the couch you were sitting on.

“How nice it must be to have someone write poetry about you. I don’t think anyone would ever do that for me,” you exclaimed dramatically, throwing a hand onto your forehead for effect. Minho snorted as he threw a piece of candy at you, causing you to shriek slightly.

“Maybe, if you weren’t such a dramatic bitch, people would actually fall for you.” You stuck your tongue out at the older male, crossing your arms with a pout on your face. He was probably right, but there was no need for him to be rude about it.

The next time the mystery poet wrote in the paper, you found out about it way too late at night. Your phone began to buzz incessently as you tried to focus on your paper, to no avail. Finally you gave in and picked up the phone.

“What?”

“Y/N, where are you right now?” Felix’s voice was rushed and enthusastic, and it took all your strength not to groan. How could he be so energetic this late at night, when all you wanted to be doing was sleeping instead of studying for you stupid exam. Seungmin, who had been joining you in your study nights the past few days, looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m at the library with Seungmin. Why?” You replied, rolling your eyes to Seungmin who just snickered. He knew from personal experience that the only person who would give you this reaction so late at night was Felix.

“There was another poem posted in the newspaper! I was gonna tell you earlier but I couldn’t get a hold of you. Stay where you are, I’m on my way.” Felix rushed, before hanging up. You took the phone away from your ear, before looking to Seungmin with an accusing glare.

“There was another poem and you didn’t think to tell me?” You exclaimed, cringing as the librarian shushed you.

“I didn’t think you cared that much. Besides, why would I take away Felix’s gossip? What kind of friend would I be if I did that?” Seungmin chuckled at the pointed glare you sent his way, before you turned back to your paper to try and do some work before Felix got there.

You managed only another 2 paragraphs before Felix came bustling through the doors, trying to be as quiet and fast as possible. He finally crashed into the chair beside you, spreading the paper out before you. You shut your laptop as your eyes scanned the page, trying to find any sight of the poem.

“It’s a good one this time. You’ll have to see it,” Felix said, his grin more of a smirk as he flipped to the next page and pointed his finger at the lines of text that had been imprinted on the page. Your eyes immediately trained on it, scanning over the words in every line like a woman who’s seeing for the first time.

The girl in room 204

with the world on her shoulder

but a smile on her face.

I wish I could be your Atlas

and hold the sky up long enough

for you to take a breath and relax.

But despite the circumstances,

despite her exhaustion from

sleepless nights in the library,

her eyes glow as she talks

even if it is about the most mundane things.

I can’t help but stare and smile,

wondering if she will ever notice

that she means everything to me

and that I would gladly be condemned

to a lifetime of suffering if it meant 

taking your pain for just a little while.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the poem, before you noticed the small print that was sitting underneath the beautiful lines.

-to the girl in room 204 of Levantar Hall

Your heart began to pound and you could practically feel the blood rushing to your face as you reread the tiny tag, the realization only setting in after the 5th time looking it over.

“Holy shit! Felix, these poems are addressed to me!” You exclaimed, turning to look at the bright smile of your best friend. He nodded eagerly as you turned back to the poem, rereading it with this newfound knowledge.

“And you said no one would ever write poetry for you,” Felix teased. You hit him lightly, before taking the paper and shoving it into your bag. You grabbed your laptop, slung your bag over your shoulder, before looking at the boys you were sitting with.

“Sorry gentleman, I have some sleuthing to do,” you said, before rushing out of the library, completely ignorant of the adoration in Seungmin’s eyes as he watched you go.

You spent the next few days waking up extra early and camping out outside of the newspaper office to try and catch the mystery person in action of dropping off their envelope, but you were always met with disappointment as Seungmin came in every morning with no sign of the admirer.

You were a bit bummed about it until you decided to read this week's newspaper and came upon a startling revelation. 

Another poem. 

so close yet so far

she would never know my love

it’s not my nature

You immediately called Felix, who agreed to meet up with you at the nearest cafe to discuss the poem. It wasn’t until you were sitting at a booth, coffees sitting in front of you that a revelation decided to hit you.

“Felix! I’m an idiot!”

“I mean, I know. But how so this time?” Felix said, causing you to throw a playful glare his way. You looked at the poem, before pointing at the poem in the paper and reading the words aloud.

“Okay?” Felix questioned, an eyebrow raised. You rolled your eyes at the thought of having to explain it all to Felix.

“I know whoever this is, Felix! The words insinuate it’s someone that I know, and someone who is not very affectionate with me!” You said proudly, happy that you had managed to narrow the list down. Felix nodded in understanding.

“So, that leaves only a few people, right? Cause all of your friends are pretty affectionate, outside of Minho and Seungmin, right?” Felix said, and you nodded, before freezing. Minho…. or Seungmin. You didn’t want to immediately jump to any conclusions, but you hadn’t seen anyone outside of the newspaper room outside of Seungmin and, being honest, you kind of wanted it to be him. You had had a crush on Kim Seungmin since freshman year of college and it would be like something out of a novel if it turned out to be him.

“Earth to Y/N! What’s the plan now?” Felix brought you from your daydream as you took a sip of the coffee in front of you. You furrowed your brows in thoughts, before her eyes lit up.

“I know! Felix, I just need to mention something incredibly specific to each of them! Any good writer would take advantage of the creative inspiration and incorporate it into their poem!” you announced, quite proud of yourself for coming up with the idea. Felix thought for a moment before he nodded.

“That’s so stupid, it might just work.” You pouted at his comment, before immediately looking at your phone, seeing the time, and stumbling to get up and rush out.

“I completely forgot I need to meet up with Minho for our project! Phase 1 starts right now!” You rushed out of the coffee shop, Felix laughing behind you as you nearly ran into the door due to your excitement.

True to your plan, while with Minho you brought up the extremely intricate topic of Andromeda and Perseus, a tale which you had learned about a month ago in your Greek Mythology class. You loved the story and thought it was incredibly interesting and a great muse if Minho turned out to be the secret admirer in the paper.

You didn’t see Seungmin for a few days, but that gave you time to think of the perfect topic to bring up to him. You wanted him to be your secret poet so badly and you wanted to make sure you gave him something that would definitely end up inspiring the next poem. It finally hit you as you sat with Seungmin and Jeongin in one of your University’s common areas.

“We learned about the story of Icarus in my Greek class the other day,” you started, making sure to look at Seungmin and see if he was listening to you. Sure enough he perked up, looking up to show you that he was taking in the words that were coming from your lips.

“Essentially, Icarus was the son of this great inventor, Daedalus, and they were both imprisoned in a tower. Daedalus made them 2 sets of wings to escape the tower, but they were made out of feathers and wax. When they were flying to escape, Icarus decided to not heed his fathers words and flew too close to the sun. The wax in his wings melted and he drowned. It’s a sad story, but it tells a tale of curiosity and how being too curious can lead to your downfall,” you explained, noticing how Seungmin had stopped writing as you told your story. Jeongin stared at you with a questioning glance.

“Why would Icarus fly so high if he knew he would die?”

“Well, I guess that depends on how you look at it. Some say he was just foolish and brash, but I personally like to think Icarus knew what would happen to him, but decided that the ability to be free and live in the excitement for even a moment was worth the consequences he knew would befall him.” Jeongin nodded, obviously thinking about the story. Satisfied with your work, you looked back down at your work, not noticing how Seungmin had flipped to a blank page in his notebook and was jotting down what seemed to be lines of poetry.

It was a few more weeks until another poem was posted, and you were starting to be concerned that the admirer had given up and decided to stop. That was until Felix, as expected, rushed into your dorm one day, completely scaring you out of your concentrated state.

“The poem was posted! And you’ll never believe it, but your plan actually worked!” Your stomach flip flopped as you realized that the moment of truth was about to be upon you. The minute you read the poem that laid in the ink of the school newspaper, you would know who was your secret admirer. Felix handed it to you and as your eyes went to the words, you silently prayed that it was the man you so desperately wanted it to be. 

I am Icarus,

and she is the sun.

I don’t dare get to close,

even if her gleam,

bright against my rickety feathers,

warms me from the inside out.

I can never tell her how I feel,

I can never say a word,

but if I could I’d tell her she is golden to me.

That she is the heavens,

and I am just a mortal man 

begging for her to let me in,

begging for her to let me love her, 

begging for her to let me praise her,

because God knows that if I could 

I would never stop spilling words of devotion to her.

I am Icarus,

and she is the sun.

My faux wings melt like candle wax

as I force myself closer to her,

because I’d rather fall out of her atmosphere,

then never experience her at all.

Your mouth dropped open as you finished reading the carefully crafted poem, your cheeks heating up and your mind running a mile a minute. It was Seungmin. Your secret admirer was Seungmin.

You rushed out of your dorm, the paper abandoned on your bed as Felix called after you, but you didn’t have any time to stop and explain. You glanced at your phone, realizing that if you made haste, you could catch Seungmin alone in the newsroom before he left for the day. You weaved through the halls of the journalism building, the only thing on your mind getting to the boy who had written some of the most beautiful words about you.

Seungmin was standing outside of the door, locking up the room for the day, when you barrelled down the hallways and basically tackled him into a hug. He grunted as your arms wrapped around him and he stood there for a moment, completely unsure of what to do in this situation. You didn’t give him any time to react though, pulling back and staring at him with a smile rivalling the sun.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Tell you what?” Seungmin asked, genuinely confused. He had a long day and you weren’t making any sense right now. You rolled your eyes playfully, before looking at him with a smirk.

“That you were Icarus and I was the sun.” Seungmin’s mouth dropped open as you repeated the words he had written back to you. His usually sharp mind was completely blank as he tried to figure out what to say in response to you, but once again you didn’t give him time to think as you pulled him in for another hug.

This time, Seungmin allowed himself to wrap his arms around you in return and give you a squeeze. Months of pining after you and he was finally doing what he had fantasized about so many times. You nuzzled yourself into his neck, giggling as he let out a soft gasp, completely unused to the physical affection you were showing him.

“So, does this mean the poems worked?” Seungmin joked, his cheeks red as you pulled back again. You let out a laugh, nodding happily as you kept your arms slung around his neck.

“Of course! To be honest, I’ve had a crush on you for a while now. I was really glad when I found out it was you,” you said, staring at him sheepishly. He smiled softly at you, before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“What gave it away though?” He asked. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“You really think I just threw all that philosophical stuff about Icarus out there for nothing? I was hoping you’d pick up the clue and use it for some creative inspiration,” you said. Seungmin nodded, feigning a look of impressiveness.

“That’s pretty smart for you.” You punched him lightly in the arm, eliciting a chuckle from the boy as he grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers together, leading you down the hallway.

“So, does this mean your poems are going to stop?” you asked, unable to hide the pout in your voice. Seungmin smiled a little bit, giddy that you liked his poems so much.

“I mean, at least the public poems. But I’ll write you all the poems you want in private. But they will be for your eyes only. Can’t let anyone know that I went soft for you,” he said jokingly. You let out a laugh, squeezing his hand as he laughed along with you.

Honestly, you didn’t mind if the poems were public or private. It was more than enough for you that Seungmin was holding your hand right now, speaking words of love that held more meaning than any poem about Icarus ever could.

[ladywhistleclown]

Benedict Bridgerton x M!Reader: Valentines Fools

Summary: Benedict does something special. Word Count: 3334 A/N: I read this post about Valentines in Regency England, and found it so interesting that I had to write about it. of course, I made it gay. duh. Also, I wrote the ‘poem’ later myself, but its inspired by many LGBT poets/writers from history who wrote poems like it, about hope for future LGBT folks, just very simplified. This is some of my best work, and I don’t want it to get snubbed just because its not f/m, so like, give it a chance! MLM fic is also fun :) Enjoy! Warnings: Fluff, Drinking, Giggly men doing giggly men things (being stupid) -- Valentines Day, in your mind, was a rather dreadful event. Ladies and Lords spent days agonizing over hand-made letters, writing disgusting poetry about love, or rejection. You had never partaken in the act, partly because you had never had anyone to write to, and partly because even if you had, you had neither the patience nor skill to craft such detailed notes of devotion. You thought it best to leave such things to artists and ladies, of which you were neither. This year was only slightly different. After having met Benedict at Lord Granville's, striking up conversations about art, women, and your places in society, you had developed a rather strange relationship, one that you would almost call a courtship, if it wasn’t so clearly an impossibility. Benedict simply wanted to explore something new, something outside the realm of society and expectations, and you, lovesick fool that you were, happily obliged him. It was nothing more than attraction and curiosity. Second son or not, Benedict could never marry a man. Even if he wanted to.

At least you could drown yourself in booze at Lord Granville's. He was a good listener, with even better advice, and you knew that he understood exactly your pain. It was here you found yourself, a day before Valentines, throwing down your sixth beer and lamenting to Granville, who sat patiently by your side. “Society is not kind to those like us.” You sighed, running the tip of your index finger along the outer edge of your glass, staring blankly at it, as though if you drank enough, the answers would appear in the liquor. “No, it isn’t. But we are kind to each other, and ourselves.” He replied, looking over you with pity. You had never been much of a drinker, not for as long as Granville had known you, but your infatuation with Benedict had brought it out in you, and he wondered if it was a mistake to invite the Bridgerton boy here, if it caused an old friend to suffer in a way that was very familiar and personal to him. He knew the pain of impossible love too well, and saw himself reflected in your morose state. “Of course. You’re too kind to me, Granville. I talk your ear off about my foolish troubles with Bridgerton, but never think to ask of yours.” “I am not nearly as troubled as you are. And as I said, we must look out for each other, as the ton certainly will not.” he lifted up his own drink, pausing just before it reached his lips to glance at you, “Perhaps I should dis-invite Bridgerton from future events?” “Oh hell, Granville, don’t torture the man on my account. He enjoys the art and the company, and besides that,  I’d rather him here than at some brothel.” you grimaced as soon as the words left your mouth, an embarrassing slip revealing just how deeply attached you were. “Apologies. The alcohol has loosened my tongue.” “No bother. I understand that jealousy quite well.” Granville said, his voice still light and amused, and you couldn't help but laugh as he took a sip, winking at you before putting his glass down. “What jealousy?” Came a loud voice from directly behind you. You jumped, Granville almost knocking his drink over in his shock. Of course, he would arrive now, when you were drunk and foolish. You breathed out quickly, praying that you would say nothing incriminating before turning to face Benedict. He looked confused, glancing from Granville's face to yours, before reiterating, “What jealousy, Granville?” “Merely of other artists. I’m sure you know it too.” He recovered, taking another drink before gesturing to the table, “Care to join us?” Benedict sat in the chair closest to you, and you shot Granville a look of pure spite. In your drunken haze, everything seemed too much. His voice was too smooth, his smile too large, and the way he draped an arm across your chair, caging you in, was entirely too casual. You promised to whatever God was listening that you would slaughter Granville for this. “Of course I do. You know better than anyone.” He agreed, sliding easily into the conversation. You remained silent, not trusting yourself in your inebriation to respond beyond a simple hum of agreement or a grunt of displeasure. If you allowed yourself to speak freely, no doubt you would be weeping in Benedict's arms like a little girl within minutes. “What do you think?” You started, retreating from your thoughts to find both Benedict and Granville looking at you. Benedict’s eyes shone with thinly veiled concern, tilting his head and gently shaking you by the shoulder, while Granville simply smiled in amusement. “I..was lost in thought. My apologies.” You said quickly, waving Benedict’s hands away and sitting up completely. You were drunker than you thought, and briefly you wondered if you would even be able to make it to your carriage without help. You figured if you couldn’t, you would force Granville to escort you. He certainly owed you, after pulling this little stunt. “You’re wasted. Perhaps you should head home.” Benedict said gently. You huffed, shaking your head. “Don’t concern yourself with me, I can take care of myself. Now. My opinion on what, exactly?” “Valentines,” Granville supplied, glancing into his empty cup, “we were talking about all the effort that goes into such cards and letters. Artistry, in a way. What do you think of it?” “I find the holiday wholly unnecessary. And it takes far too much time to make such delicate things. A canvas is much more secure.” you huffed. Benedict stiffened beside you, although in your semi-consciousness, you barely noticed, your eyes fluttering between shut and open. “So you wouldn’t make any?” Benedict asked. “No.” “Would you receive them?” “I suppose it would be rude to deny such labors of love. But I have never received one, and I doubt I will this year. Ladies don’t send cards to men like me.” you shrugged, drooping over the table. The longer you sat, the harder it was to hold yourself up. If you passed out, it would be a good escape from such intimate topics with Benedict, so you allowed yourself to slump on the table, sighing. “Alright, that's enough. I’ll help you home.” Benedict declared, standing up and taking you by the arm, heaving you up. You groaned in protest, but didn’t fight as he slung your arm over his shoulder and half dragged you away from the table, Granville following behind. “Apologies, Bridgerton. Next time I won’t allow him to indulge quite so much. You may end up getting more than 10 minutes with him that way.” He said cheerily. “I’m sober enough to know when I’m being mocked, Granville.” you opened your bleary eyes to glare at him, finding his eyes twinkling with amusement. He patted your shoulder. “It’s no trouble. I was about to head home, anyway.” Is all Benedict said as he helped you into the carriage, climbing in after you and seating himself on the same bench. Granville waved you both off as Benedict rapped his knuckles on the carriage, directing your footman to take you home. “Now you have me alone and vulnerable. Not very gentlemanly of you, Bridgerton. What would the ton think?” you teased, leaning lazily against the side of the carriage, away from him. You hoped it was subtle, that he thought you were just drunk and loose and tired. You couldn’t bear the thought of him finding out just how weak you were for him. Then he would leave, and you would be crushed. “They would think nothing, because we’re men.” He pointed out, leaning closer to you. You hummed, acknowledging his words, but didn’t reply beyond that. It was only then that you realized how precarious a situation you were in. Drunk, alone, with a man you loved, who seemed to be moving closer and closer by the minute, although maybe you were imagining that part. Anything was possible when you were this drunk. “They would be wrong, though.” Benedict finished softly. He reached over, brushing his fingers along your jaw, moving downward to loosen your cravat. You sighed, tilting your head back to allow him easier access, cursing yourself but unable to shove him away. You were such a fool. “Are you planning something?” You asked. He finally managed to pull your cravat away, revealing your neck to him. He laughed at your question. “With you this drunk? No. I only wanted you to be more comfortable.” He tossed the cloth onto the other bench, leaning safely away from you to stare out the window after. While you were partly disappointed, you were mostly relieved. You wouldn’t have been able to resist, and only would have brought yourself more shame and confusion in regards to him. But Benedict was a good man, and he would never take advantage of you in your current state. Your heart squeezed. Too good of a man. “I’m sorry to be such a burden tonight.” you blurted suddenly. Benedict looked at you, his head whipping away from the window so quickly it almost made you dizzy. “I shouldn’t have drank so much. It was foolish.” “You’re never a burden to me.” He said, his voice soft and indignant, almost as if he was offended by the mere idea that you had inconvenienced him. “You shouldn’t have to chaperone me home like a weak debutante.” “I’d rather you than a debutante. Trust me.” You chuckled, shaking your head and glancing out the carriage window. You could see the square, and your home, fast approaching. It appeared as though your time with Benedict was over for tonight. Relieved and downtrodden, you sat up and attempted to right your swirling vision as the carriage came to a stop. Benedict stood, helping you up and out of the carriage. After explaining the situation to your housekeeper, he hauled you all the way into your home and bedroom, even being kind enough to help you out of your boots as you lay back in your bed, arm over your eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning. “I’ll be going, then.” He said quietly, standing up and brushing his hands together. You lifted your arm, making certain you weren’t going to puke before crooking one finger, beckoning him closer. “Come here.” You breathed. He obeyed, moving dutifully to your side, remaining silent despite the question in his eyes. You sat up slowly, ignoring your dizziness. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, you pulled him closer. Benedict, realizing what you were after, leaned down and forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You flopped back into your bed after he pulled away, grinning, although you couldn’t see it, having already rolled over and buried your face in the covers. “Goodnight. I hope you enjoy tomorrow.” He said ominously, the clicking of his heels against the marble floor the only indication you had that he had left. Before you could even think of the meaning of his strange farewell, you were dragged into rest. -- The first thing you registered after waking was the pounding behind your eyes. Moaning in pain, you lifted your arm over your face, blocking out the light that your butler had let in through the curtains. “My apologies, My Lord. Should we have a cure made?” He asked politely, noticing your haggard state. “Quickly.” You begged. He nodded, bowing before swiftly leaving the room to procure you a bit of relief. Sitting up, you turned away from the windows completely, opting to try and find your balance. After a moment, you were able to make your way to your wardrobe, pulling on your breeches and doublet. Today you had no need to dress formally. Valentines was a day you dedicated to staying completely shuttered away from the rest of the ton, tending to your estate and business ventures. It was easier than being bombarded with reminders of love, and much easier than running into any Bridgerton, although one, of course, you wanted to avoid above all else. It would only pain you to see him giving or receiving such intimate letters, especially with the women of the ton. Once your butler had delivered your cure, and you had thrown down the slimy, disgusting mixture, you were feeling much improved. You made your way to your study, smiling at your maids as they bowed before rushing off, no doubt in a hurry to finish their work and make off with their sweethearts for the day. You felt a twinge of jealousy, smiling sadly as you opened the door to your study. Oh. In your study sat piles and piles of cards, all handmade, some gilded with gold while others were trimmed with lace. You picked one up, in awe at its intricate gold-foil flowers, embossed on the front and lined with sharp swirls and embellishments, all clearly hand done with a calligraphy pen. You opened the card. The script inside was as lovely as the rest of the card, although it was the words that brought tears to your eyes. I sit and I look into your face And I see those before us, Who have loved as we do, And I see those after, And I pray that our impossibility Will become their reality. Yours. You choked on a sob, quickly closing the card and setting it down. The last thing you wanted was to ruin something so perfect with tears. It was not signed, and it didn’t have to be for you to know. Benedict. You looked around the room. There were at least 3 large piles of cards, enough to last an entire year, all handmade and intricate. You wondered how long this had taken him. It would take you days just to read them all. Surely, your servants thought you were either the biggest rake in the ton, with all these notes. You couldn’t care less. You gathered them all, handling them as gently as you would glass, slipping them into your desk cabinet and locking it. They were yours, no one else's. Benedict's words were just for you. Dazed, you leaned back into your office chair, holding the first card, running your fingers over the edges and rereading the lines over and over. It wasn't quite a poem, nor a letter, but a sentiment. A dream, a wish. You would be lying if you said that it wasn’t your dream too. A future where love like yours would be special, not sinful. Love. You jolted. And then laughed. How could you ever have doubted him? Surely, it was only love that would drive him to do this. Only love that would have him escort you home, make sure you were safe and comfortable. That would make him sit for what must have been weeks, if not months, working tirelessly on card after card just to take advantage of the one day where letters between unmarried men and women could be sent freely. Of course, he did so for a cover. But was that not also love? He wanted to protect you from ire, from harm, and so he delivered all the letters he felt he couldn’t today, just to keep from drawing unwanted eyes. Crying and laughing all at once, you pressed the note to your chest. How had you doubted his love for a second? His devotion? You truly were a fool, although not in the way you had expected. It took you half an hour to calm yourself, and by that time, your headache was back and worse than before, thanks to your emotional outburst. But another thing was back, too. Your butler, standing in the doorway with an impassive look on his face, glancing about the room, no doubt looking for the heaps of cards the servants had dropped off. “Do you know what card came from which maiden?” You asked, holding up the first card. It was the only card you had yet to put away, and though you were loathe to show it to him, you thought you should make it try and seem as though you had no idea who they had come from. “The cards were delivered mysteriously early this morning, My Lord. No names, no signatures.” “I see. Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. None of them will be receiving a response.” You laughed, setting the card down. “What is it?” “A visitor, sir. The Second Bridgerton. Says he has something to discuss with you, about Lord Granville's gathering last night.” Your heart stuttered. “Send him up. No doubt he wants me to apologize for making such an ass of myself last night.” You joked, and he smiled back, giving a quick nod before rushing off to fetch Benedict. You quickly tucked the last letter into your desk drawer, pulling out a decanter of whiskey and pouring yourself a small glass. “No better cure for a hangover than more drink, right?” Benedict stepped into your study, shutting the door behind him even as he teased you. You laughed, pouring him a glass as well. He took it gratefully, sitting down in the chair across from yours, the desk between you two. “You may mock me if you wish, Benedict, but I am feeling positively delightful.” you said dramatically, lifting your cup in cheers. Benedict touched his glass to yours, and you took a sip. He did not. “Would that have anything to do with any deliveries?” He questioned, a secretive smile spreading across his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” “That’s why I asked.” You snorted, shaking your head quickly. “It would, if you must know.” Dropping all pretenses, he leaned forward, smiling even brighter now. “So you’ve got them. Do you like them?” “Of course I do,” you breathed, leaning in as well, dropping your voice to a whisper, “how long did they take you? They’re beautiful. True artistry.” “Much too long, as you said last night. But they were worth it, if you like them.” You nodded once. Smiling, he brought one hand to rest on your desk, palm up and spread open. You took it, intertwining your fingers. “Do you truly...love me? In that way?” you asked nervously, avoiding his gaze in favor of staring at your two hands. “No, I spent hours of my precious time making hand crafted love letters for a man I consider a friend.” He rolled his eyes. “If anyone would do such a thing, it would be you, Benedict.” “Certainly not. It would be Colin.” You laughed, and he grinned. Standing, he quickly rounded your desk and pulled you up by your still connected hands, pulling you against him and kissing you firmly. It was sudden, but not unpleasant, and you wrapped your arms around him, carding your fingers through his hair before resting your hands on the nape of his neck. After a long moment, he pulled away, eyes shining mischievously. “I do love you.” “And I you.” you said quickly, desperate to reciprocate. You had spent so long convinced that Benedict only saw you as good fun, that the revelation of love had left you reeling. But you would be damned if you passed up this opportunity to tell him of the affections you had kept secret since your first meeting. In response, he kissed your jaw once before pulling away, still smirking. “But you taste of garlic and egg. You truly should not have indulged so much. Now I can’t kiss you.” Groaning, you turned away from him, clamping your lips shut even as he wraps his arms around your middle, pressing kisses to your neck and cheek lovingly, cooing affections like a lovesick fool. You smiled at that passing thought, leaning into Benedict and returning his whispers in kind, leading him with purpose to your bed chamber. Perhaps you were both lovesick fools. You could live with that.

[what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me]

The Haunting of Thomas Sanders 

> Part 1 < Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: Nico was beginning to think his new boyfriend was haunted by ghosts. He never planned to bring it up until the ghosts themselves came to him asking for help.

[AO3]

CW: food mention, alcohol mention, past breakup

Notes: Based off this text post I made. 

.

Nico had come to the mall for inspiration.

Anything to get out of his office would help him at this point, really. The meetings he had to go to were stifling any new ideas and the nosey, pompous co-workers were worse. The writer did not know what he was looking for, but what else brought people to malls? Maybe a new outfit would uncover confidence , maybe indulging in greasy food would be that final click he seemed to lack, maybe people-watching would offer the right story. Nico's bets were not on the last one.

The mall was not as busy as it once had been. When he was still a teen it was a lively place bustling with a constant traffic of people. Walking through shops offered hours of new stimulation and the hallways were towering, intricate skylights the crowning jewel. As time went on Nico got older and things changed. Online shopping is easier than anything and a fair few of the shops were closed down for good.

Nevertheless it was his favorite place to write if he had to choose. The buzz of energy helped him focus on work. Nico found peculiar security in being an irrelevant face in a crowd of hundreds, and knowing that each person had a life he could never even imagine opened floodgates of inspiration. The 'What if's?' and 'Why's?" he asked himself when people-watching could get the ball rolling.

Now there were less faces, less stories. Nico did not appreciate the way this shift reflected in his work. The difference was noticeable, and he struggled more with deadlines, but he worked with what he had.

He learned to pay attention to individuals more. However, currently what he had was waiting for his food, because at this point he might have more luck finding inspiration in eating then in others. There had only been a toddler throwing a tantrum, a teen scrolling on their phone, and a man who sat down across from him at the food court-

Oh hello, inspiration.

If Nico was staring, the only reason he got away with it was his laptop blocking his line of sight. He saw all he needed out of the corner of his eye. The floral shirt was extremely flattering, and if he wasn't mistaken he could see the outline of muscles. That brown hair looked fluffy, and what he would give to run his fingers through it while- Okay, Nico, you might be gay but that thought isn't for a stranger .

He could not even see his eye color. And the man in the floral shirt was eating, interrupting his meal would be rude. Maybe there was a way to make this still work? As his waitress got to his table and dropped off his food, he subtly turned his pinned-covered backpack in the direction of the stranger. If Mr. Handsome did not answer his silent plea then he would move on.

He tossed a fry into his mouth instead of letting himself think.

Maybe he had got his hopes up when the guy came in his direction, only to walk up to a Karrot King line. When the writer saw the man in the floral shirt inspect the plant, he wondered if he liked botany. Finally the same useless hope happened again when they made admittedly awkward eye contact for a few seconds. So he has brown eyes. The guy turned away rather fast so Nico dropped it. Maybe showing a pride pin made the guy uncomfortable and it was to good to be true.

Only when he heard a CRASH and saw somebody fall into a garbage can, did he finally get an idea about what to write. That was a metaphor he could spin into a story. Certainly it was not at all because he felt trashy for a missed opportunity. Nor was it due to that cute guy having disappeared, leaving his food uneaten.

Wait . You can still make this work, Flores.

He scarfed down the rest of his food and discarded the trash. Nico's fast pace to get to the table with the food turned a few heads, but he ignored it. Greasy bag in hand, he browsed the crowd for that familiar pattern. Every person wearing a floral shirt was either an older lady or a child. Nico swayed on the balls of his feet as he contemplated what to do next, but then he saw him coming out of the restroom.

Bingo!

None of what happened after went as planned. Serves him right for letting his overactive imagination create unrealistic expectations.

He should have known trying to do small talk with strangers would only backfire. After Nico had called out after him to return the food, he had tried to ask what made him leave in a rush to forget his food. Then the guy asked what was wrong with him and Nico dropped it. He gave the stranger his well-wishers and left afterwards. He would honestly rather head back to work then be here right now.  

No matter if he was admittedly cute, Nico Flores probably would have been mad at the man if he did not look like he was on the verge of a public anxiety attack. He was probably starving, too, if he had forgotten his lunch.

The man in the floral shirt hesitated behind him, running after Nico.

When they actually sat down to talk together, the man in the floral shirt - Mr. Sanders, Thomas - was quite charming. And funny. And intelligent. Oh, when he had called Thomas an inspiration earlier he had meant it. He just met a singer and an actor, is there a more perfect match to a writer and poet?

Leave it to his imagination to think of a man he just met reciting the poems and lovingly singing songs he writes.

The two had talked for over two hours without noticing. They had bounced ideas off of each other and Nico made an impressive amount of progress. He felt so giddy with just this one interaction! Nico was sad that they had to leave; Thomas seemed just as reluctant to part.

"Well you didn't get to eat much today at lunch right?"

Thomas fiddled with his fingers, "Yeah…"

Nico did not let himself second guess himself , he offered, "Then let me buy you dinner tonight!"

As a breath caught in Thomas' throat, Nico was self conscious that he might have said something wrong, but the heavy blush across the other man's face was not of offence or horror at all. Thomas was smiling at him again.

Finding ways to make Thomas go speechless was going to be his new favorite pastime… if Thomas would give him a chance, he decided. Just that alone lit a fire inside him, and later when he finished with writing for work, he would write some more. All he would be writing about would be this, a collection of poems to free these butterflies in his stomach. Thomas seemed to look around for approval from anybody else and nodded quickly

"I'd love to go with you, Nico! Maybe we can uh- get to know each other better?" Oh man, it was flattering to have somebody so cute get so nervous at him of all people.  

"Only if I could get to know the digits on your phone number better," he confirmed with a playful grin. It might have been cheesy, certainly. But he was also the person who told Thomas that they would not waste this opportunity. Pretending he was not corny now would be a lie.

Thomas taking his cliché advances in stride only made him more hopeful.

.

.

They both later met at a local bar and grill close to the beach. A salty sea breeze tousled his hair and the palm leaves. The hour was close to sunset, too hot for the mosquitoes to bug them but not too hot for the two of them to eat outside.

"I'm looking for a table for two? RSVP'd under the name 'Flores'?" He asked. The waitress nodded, sat him down with a menu. Thomas was not there, and a part of him wonders if he is getting stood up. Nico, not particularly interested in looking at food yet, fiddled with his laptop. He sighed because even If that was the case, Nico would try to make the most of the night.

The waitress brought Thomas to the table a few minutes later. The writer's heart soared before worry took root. Thomas was wearing that same expression from earlier that day on his face. He anxiously explained. "I'm so, so sorry for being late. And i totally get if you don't want me here and would prefer to just call this all off. I didn't mean to show up late, but then as I was about to leave my apartment I- my keys just-"

Nico grabbed one of Thomas' hands and smiled reassuringly. "Hey, I'm not angry you got here late."

Thomas really did look cute flustered, but he did not let go of the hand. Instead he ran his thumbs along his knuckles. "I'm happy you're here with me. Wanna order a drink and maybe share an appetizer with me?"

They both chatted about foods they disliked while waiting. Thomas hated carrots with a passion as it turned out, and he made a mental note to tease him about going to a Karrot King. Nico in turn talked about his dislike for most seafood and mushrooms because of the slimy texture. The waitress came and both agreed on a sampler platter to share.

"Mimosas at sunset?" He inquired.

Thomas smiled nervously. "I usually save them for brunches, with friends. All the other options I like are too much if I want to drive home tonight."

Nico nodded, understanding.

Just like in the food court, Talking with Thomas made time go past without him even noticing. They tried out food together, talked about music, and that led Nico into telling a story about a Highschool band. Thomas was red in the face and giggling uncontrollably by the time they paid for the check and had to leave.

They left the building together when Thomas stopped him. "There's a park around the corner. We can feed the ducks some leftovers."

If Nico noticed that Thomas was not ready to say bye just yet, he did not say it. The last of the sun was behind the horizon by the time they went through a breadstick. Watching Thomas interact with the ducks gave him the idea that this man loved animals. They were cute, he would admit, but nature found other ways to ruin his mood.

Nico laughed at himself, pulling his arms closer into his body. "I almost wish I dressed up a bit more. I didn't expect the mosquitoes to be this bad."

"I know it's warm out, but I can lend you a jacket?"

Nico did a double take at what Thomas was holding up. It was black with plaid sleeves, already oversized so it wouldn't have a problem fitting Nico. It honestly looked very comfortable, and it would keep him from being bit, but comfort wasn't what he was caught up on.

"Being warm beats being eaten alive."

When the fuck did Thomas have an extra jacket on him? Did he really not notice it?

He hesitated, and then asked a whole entirety different question. "Are you sure I can take this? I won't be able to return it to you tonight."

Thomas insisted, "Please, I don't mind- I don't need it. And you can keep it for tonight, or until we see each other again?"

Nico put the jacket on and it was soft. And it smelled like the cologne Thomas was wearing. Oh this was nice. "When will that be, Thomas?"

Thomas let his eyes linger on Nico in his jacket. "Saturday I'm free, I think. We could have brunch together, even."

He smiled. "Saturday sounds wonderful."

.

.

When they first had met, being infatuated was easy. It came to the pair more natural than breathing.

Nico originally did not know if his relationship with Thomas Sanders would go anywhere. But the first meeting had been so promising. And then they had a brunch date at Thomas' place, then a second and a third. Maybe… maybe Nico was moving too fast. Things kept going well nonetheless.

Four, five, six, seven. They kept on hanging out. Going out. They wanted to see more and more of each other. Quickly they were amassing a horde of good memories together. During nights away, they loved to text and call each other. They never put a label on what they did, which was starting to bother him. It felt more intimate than friendship. Were these dates?

According to his family, yes. They had noticed his change in mood and lack of free time quickly and demanded explanation. He kept it vague, but got advice anyways. Mama Flores said it was ridiculous that he had not brought Thomas by to meet the famila. Hid Papa was more doubtful. Even though it has been years since Nico's last major failed relationship, his father was still worried.

Papa Flores was a proud man, so it left a bad taste in his mouth when he requested Nico to take more time before giving his heart away. He had to oblige. Nico was over it, he healed, but some of his family was not. Nico's ex was like a second son to Papa, and everybody was hurt by him.

Call him cliché, but Thomas was different.

Even when Nico was past the stage of infatuation, Thomas took his breath away.

Could you be infatuated by somebody you have not actually kissed yet? It felt like it. Sure, when they had met at that food court, he had his breath taken away, and that feeling intensified when they saw each other more. He knew infatuation could feel like love, but these feelings passed the test of time and matured into something deeper. With more meaning. He did not like just the idea of Thomas and what their future might look like, he liked Thomas for his presence and as a person.

Suddenly his worries that they were moving too fast turned into frustrations they were moving too slow. They were more intimate than regular friends, but they never got far enough to be considered partners. It was frustrating to figure out. Nico was ready for a relationship, he was certain. The three months he spent getting to know Thomas were blissful, and calling their dates only "hangouts" had begun to feel forced.

So they talked about it.

Thomas said he was also ready but his actions seemed more… hesitant. He mentioned somebody from his past, who he moved on from but never could forget. Nico wanted to ask, to find out what happened to his heart for him to be so afraid. He knew what it felt like to have scars that still hurt, he wanted to be there for Thomas as he healed.

But that was not the time for the conversation. Not when Nico was nearly on Thomas' lap and his arms hung around his neck. Not when Thomas met his eyes and Nico stared at them for too long. It could have been him trying to figure out what emotions they held, maybe Thomas' eyes were that beautiful. His friend -- boyfriend? -- got so anxious and trapped in his head easily, but Thomas seemed in control of his more scary thoughts in that moment. It brought a smile to his face, unnoticed between the way they were slowly moving closer.

Still, cautious and vulnerable, eager and loving, Thomas had let Nico kiss him. Finally getting to show Thomas just how much he wanted to cherish him was amazing. And receiving that same passion in return was intoxicating.

Getting an answer never felt so good.

Nico's more-than-friendly feelings were not the only thing that was starting to add up in regards to Thomas either. There were strange happenings, though were so minuscule he had nothing tangible to go off of.

Thomas might be really good at sneaking things past Nico's eyes, common sense would say. Intuition told himself not to doubt what he saw. Thomas did not have that spare jacket on their first date originally. It literally had to of appeared from thin air. And when Thomas invited him for brunch, he noticed that two of the mimosas Thomas had prepared with brunch had vanished. Sometimes he experiences ghost touches when staying the night. The hands were gentle and comforting, calluses on the fingertips just like Thomas, but when he opened his eyes nobody was there.

That was the most noticeable of things. Though he could list off a dozen smaller happenings. He had no proof for them, as they could be explained, but Nico listened to his gut here.

And Nico has no idea what he would want to do with this information anyways. Thomas seemed to have some supernatural force that followed him around. What a fantastic conclusion to jump to! It would be weird to bring up, especially after Thomas had denied anything when Nico subtly brought it up. And the ghosts - for lack of better term - did nothing to harm Thomas.

The information that Thomas was haunted by ghosts was, for all intents and purposes, useless.

(Except it was not. It was fantastic material to write from. When he first called Thomas inspiration, his first impression never proved to be wrong.)

(And if Nico had started a personal project dedicated to a story based on it, nobody needed to know,)

The difference between Nico's feelings for Thomas and his feelings about his ghosts is that one actually got addressed.

He would be content to let Thomas have that secret to himself.

NEXT PART >>

[ppangjae]

Song for a Little Sparrow | Jaehyun

SUMMARY. As a burnt out painter, you packed one suitcase and flew a one-way trip to Paris in hopes of finding your passion again. In the city of love, the last thing you expected was to bump into a man who doesn’t believe in love. But you do, and you find yourself showing him the wonders of love and falling in love. Just don’t fall in love with him.

or: “How can you not believe in love and think it’s stupid when you’re in Paris, the city of love?”

GENRE. strangers to lovers!au | poet!jaehyun | rich!jaehyun | painter!reader | fluff | angst 

WORD COUNT. 13.7k+ words (BIG OOF)

playlist. howl’s moving castle | song for a little sparrow by patricia kaas | loose by daniel caesar | we find love by daniel caesar 

author’s note. yall she is finally here. oof. this is unedited, so please keep that in mind if you ever come across a typo! also, i just wanted to say thank you for 1k! happy reading~

“You’re going to regret doing this!”

But you don’t.

Your father’s voice echoes through your head as you’re stepping out on the balcony of your hotel room to get a good look of the Eiffel Tower that’s located a couple of blocks away. A soft, happy sigh escapes your lips as you bask in the sunlight that’s hitting your skin. You bring up your fresh mug of coffee to your lips to take a sip.

Your father thinks you’re many things, one of them being absolutely crazy. The look of sheer panic and shock on his face as you walked out of the house with nothing but one suitcase and a one-way plane ticket to Paris remains etched in your mind. You wish you could draw it out and frame it just to put it up in your room for inspiration. Now that you think about it, you are crazy. You’re crazy and impulsive. It’s not normal for you to pack your things and leave the city months after your successful art exhibition. What’s normal is that you should be sitting in your art room, painting on canvas for your next, upcoming art exhibition that everyone is waiting for. But the view of the Eiffel Tower and the atmosphere of love surrounding you is just too hard to resist. And no, you don’t regret doing this.

You might. 

But you’ll worry about that later.

“Why are you calling me so early in the morning?”

You let out a snort. Jungwoo’s pixelated face appears on your screen when he flips to the front camera of his phone. “Good morning to you too.”

“Holy shit, why is it so bright?” He squints his eyes that are blinded by the sunrise that you’re showing him with your phone’s camera. It takes him two seconds to realize it. “Why the fuck are you in Paris?”

“Vacation.” You flash him an innocent smile. But it’s a smile he knows so well. “I’m here for vacation—”

“You and I both know that you are not in Paris for vacation.” He cuts you off.

“Fine. I’m burnt out.”

“But—”

“And bored,” you add, cutting him off. “Which is why I’m in Paris.”

“I wish I was rich enough to fly to Paris just because I felt bored.” He scoffs, sitting up in his bed. “Why did you call me again? Wait, does your father know that you’re in Paris?”

“Yes, he knows.” You answer his second question. As for his first question.. “I called you because I can’t choose which art museum I should go to.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? It’s three in the morning, Y/N—”

“The Louvre, Petit Palais, or Musée d’Orsay?” 

He falls silent for a brief moment. You take this as a chance to take another sip of your coffee that’s run cold. You wince, placing your mug of coffee onto the patio table. 

“The Louvre.”

“Nice choice.” You smile. “Musée d’Orsay it is.”

“I’m seriously going to kill you when you come back,” he lets out a string of curses. “Why’d you even ask me in the first place?”

“Sleep tight, love.”

He scoffs. He falls back against his bed. “Fuck you.”

And he hangs up without saying goodbye.

“Keep the change.”

The ticket vendor looks utterly speechless by his presence. He can tell by the way the coins clink together from the nervous shaking of her hands. She stares at him for a second longer before smiling sheepishly. She retreats her hand and places the coins back into the cash register.

“Enjoy your visit, Mr. Jeong.”

He gives her a timid smile before venturing off into the art museum. It’s normal to see people doing double-takes on him whenever he’s in the same room as them. He’s used to being distracted and losing his train of thought when someone lightly nudges him with a notepad and pen. But ever since he landed in Paris, he’s gotten a ton of looks and a ton of autograph requests from different people and he’s not sure what to feel or how to react.

He finds himself walking into Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s exhibition. The room is somewhat empty, with an old couple admiring the Dance at Bougival and a couple of teenagers taking pictures of the art. He spots a familiar painting at the far end of the room. He’s drawn to it with his feet having a mind of its own, leading him to the painting. 

Dance in the Country. His eyes scan the picture. His eyes stop on the unidentified woman watching the couple dance from the background. She must have a story, he thinks to himself, before his thoughts are cut short when—

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but are you Jeong Jaehyun, by any chance?” 

He tears his gaze from the painting to meet eyes with a young woman. She looks like a student. As he’s nodding his head, her eyes light up and she immediately rummages through her bag to pull out his best-selling book. Along with a copy of his book, she pulls out a permanent marker. 

“I love your work!” She exclaims. “It’s such a huge coincidence bumping into you at an art museum. Wow. I can’t believe it.”

Adorable. He gives her a warm smile as he gently takes the book and marker from her small hands. He takes the cap off the marker with his teeth. While holding the cap in between his teeth, he makes his signature on the front cover of his book. The young woman looks up at him with admiration. Once he signs the book, he hands her the book and places the cap back onto the marker. 

“Wow. Thank you so much! I won’t disturb you any longer.” She smiles. She looks starstruck. “I hope you enjoy your stay here in Paris and I look forward to your next book!”

He chuckles. “Thank you. It was nice to meet you.”

The young lady sends him a small wave before joining her group of friends. As she reaches up to them, they start teasing her for being such a shy baby. His face softens. He shifts his focus back to the painting in front of him. But as he’s turning to look back at the painting, he notices a figure standing beside him from the corner of his eye.

He glances to his left to see a woman who looks somewhat around his age. She’s wearing a long strap dress that flows all the way down to her ankles. Underneath the dress, she’s wearing a white t-shirt. Her long, wavy hair stops just a couple of inches below her shoulders with strands framing her face. He turns back to look at the painting.

“Why do you think there’s a woman hiding in the background of the painting?”

The voice makes you snap out of your gaze. You find yourself looking to your right to meet eyes with a handsome stranger. It takes you a couple of seconds for you to realize who’s standing right beside you. It’s Jeong Jaehyun, the best-selling poet. He’s looking back at you with an innocent gaze that you decide not to identify him as a poet whose work you admire and whose work you religiously read, but as a stranger.

You take one more look at the painting. Dance in the Country. You’ve always been intrigued by the artwork, specifically at the hidden woman watching the dancing couple in the background.

You purse your lips into a tight line. “I think she’s in love with him. That’s why she’s looking at them like that and remaining hidden.”

He folds his arms and tilts his head in confusion. “You think she’s in love with him?”

You’re still a bit taken aback that the Jeong Jaehyun is standing beside you in an art museum in Paris.

“Yes.” You simply answer his question.

He squints his eyes as he falls deep in thought. “I beg to differ.”

“You don’t think she’s in love with him?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t believe in love.”

What? Did you hear that right? “Sorry?”

“I don’t believe in love.” He repeats himself. “Actually, I think love is stupid—”

“Then why are you here?” You blurt out in shock. It comes out rudely and you expect him to feel insulted, but instead, he smirks at you. “How can you not believe in love and think love is stupid when you’re in Paris, the city of love?”

“You have a point. Why exactly am I here?” He thinks aloud. 

You blink. What an odd guy. Is he really a poet? A best-selling poet? Is he really the man who wrote the books you’ve read? 

“I’d love to hear you argument on how love isn’t real and how love is stupid.”

“I don’t think it needs an explanation.” He shrugs his shoulders. “It is what it is—”

“Damn, who hurt you?” You chuckle. 

He has a grin playing across his lips. “If you believe in love so much, then why don’t you prove it to me?”

“How do I know that you’re not a murderer plotting my death?” You raise an eyebrow suspiciously. 

“Wait, not to be cocky but,” his eyebrows furrow. “You don’t know who I am?” 

You lie. “Should I know who you are?”

You know who he is. You know exactly who he is. He’s Jeong Jaehyun—

“Then that’s all the more reason as to why you should prove me wrong.” He grins. “Prove to me that love is real and that love isn’t stupid.”

“Fine.” You squint your eyes. You let out a huff of breath. “I will. I will prove you wrong, Mr. Stranger.”

He’s completely amused by you. In fact, he’s more amused at the fact that you’re trusting him so easily.

“Where shall we start?” He asks.

You scoff. His grin is immediately wiped off his face.

“Well, you’ve already started. You started the moment you got here, in Paris.”

“I have? Prove it to me.”

“Paris is the city of love! That’s more than enough of a reason as to why love exists and why love isn’t stupid.”

He squints his eyes at you before breaking out into a grin. “I think you’ll need more than that to prove me wrong.”

“I—”

“I’m Jaehyun.” He extends his hand out for you to shake. You raise an eyebrow at him, hesitating to shake his hand, but you do it anyway. His hands are soft. “And do you trust me enough to say that I’m not going to murder you but ask you to grab coffee with me instead?”

It takes you a couple of seconds to realize that you’re still shaking hands. You snap out of it, gently pulling your hand away from his. You fold your arms.

“I’m sure there’s got to be a catch.”

He tilts his head. “Well, you are going to prove to me that love is real and love isn’t stupid, right? Let me thank you in advance by getting you a cup of coffee.”

You smirk.

“Fine.”

“Great—”

“But you’re paying.”

This is going to be a long day.

“You didn’t introduce yourself to me, stranger.”

You find yourselves sitting out on a patio, waiting for your cups of coffee. You tear your gaze away from a couple taking a picture in front of the museum. Sitting right across from you, your eyes meet Jaehyun’s. 

“I’m Y/N.” You chuckle. “Nothing special.”

He fiddles with the teaspoon on the table. “You don’t sound like you’re from here.”

You smile. “It’s because I’m not.”

“Vacation?”

You point at him. “Bingo.”

“Nice.” He nods his head.

Right on time, your orders arrive at the table. He ordered himself an iced Americano and you got yourself a cup of cappuccino. He takes a quick sip.

“You don’t sound like you’re from here either,” you add. 

“It’s because I’m not.” He copies you.

“Vacation?”

The both of you share a look before bursting out into laughter. He points at you. “Bingo.”

There’s a sudden urge of curiosity that ignites within you. Why is the famous poet, Jeong Jaehyun, in Paris for vacation? Is he currently writing a book? Has he lost inspiration? Is that why he’s here in Paris, to reignite the inspiration he lost since his last published book? 

There are a ton of questions running through your mind but it’s funny how if that is the case, you could say you’re in the same boat as him. Why are you in Paris for vacation? Are you currently working on your next exhibition? Did you lose inspiration? Is that why you’re here in Paris, to reignite the inspiration you lost since your last successful art exhibit?

There’s a reason why you bought yourself a one-way plane ticket to Paris with no intentions of flying back for a couple of weeks. You’re in Paris because you lost inspiration and not because you’re working on your next exhibition. After your last art exhibit, you found yourself spiralling into a mess and meeting a familiar friend you didn’t plan on reuniting with; artist’s block. 

It was like you suddenly forgot how to pick up a paintbrush. 

And that in of itself, is a huge nightmare you wish would never become the end of your career that had just started.

“What do you do for a living?” He asks. You look at him until he clears his throat. “You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to—”

“I’m a painter,” you reply. You smirk. “What kind of question is that? Are we out on a blind date or something? I don’t remember meeting you on Tinder.”

He folds his arms and leans against his chair. “You’re a painter? Like, you paint on canvas?”

“I was expecting more of an enthusiastic reaction or even better, a look of surprise.” You pout. You let out a sigh. “But yes, sorry to disappoint, I’m a painter. I pick up a paintbrush and I make strokes on canvas. That’s what I do for a living.”

He grabs his iced Americano to take another sip before slamming it down onto the table. “I’m sure you’re very talented. You should show me a couple of your paintings. Even better, why don’t you paint me like—”

“Like one of my French girls?” You cut him off.

“You probably get that a lot, huh?”

“I get that a shit ton of times that I am this close to throwing up.”

He chuckles. “God, I feel like throwing up whenever I see a couple out on the street. Like those two over there.”

You follow his line of sight. It falls upon the same couple who are still taking pictures in front of the museum. How long does it take to get a decent picture? You look back at Jaehyun.

“They’re in love. Leave them alone.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely leave them alone.” He huffs out a breath. 

“Stop being such a con artist, I’m sure you’ve been in love before.” 

“I have—”

“And it was a nice feeling, right?”

“It was more so disappointing.”

Jaehyun looks at you as you suddenly clasp your hands together. The sudden movement slightly shakes the table, causing some of your drink to spill out of the mug. His eyebrows raise. You look at him with bright eyes and you beam.

“I have an idea.”

“What’s your idea?”

You smile. “I know how to prove you wrong.”

“And how are you going to prove me wrong, Y/N?”

“How long are you going to be here for?” You question. 

He folds his arms. “Two weeks. I’m flying back home in two weeks.”

“Perfect!” You exclaim. “Two weeks is all I need.”

“What tricks are you hiding up your sleeve?”

“I’m going to take you out on dates for two weeks.” You explain your plan that you’ve suddenly come up with on the spot. “And on those dates, I’ll prove to you that love exists.”

“And you expect this to work?”

You nod your head. “One hundred percent.”

“How do you know for sure?” He squints his eyes at you.

“If you don’t feel some sort of way after going out on dates with me, then love isn’t real. But if you do feel some sort of way, then love is real.” You explain.

“So, basically, if I fall in love with you, love is real. But if I don’t fall in love with you, then love isn’t real?”

“Perfect!” You exclaim.

“So, your goal is to make me fall in love with you?” He laughs.

“Yes, but at the same time, no.” You try to make things clear.

“Is that even possible?”

“It’s possible!” 

He looks at you as if you’ve gone insane. He’s slowly starting to regret striking up a conversation with you at the museum. He’s slowly starting to regret taking you out for a cup of coffee. He’s slowly starting to regret arguing that love isn’t real and that love is stupid—

You smile.

“It’s possible. Just don’t fall in love with me.”

“It’s seven in the morning—”

“I know.” 

It is seven in the morning when Jaehyun is bombarded with new text notifications, urging him to get out of bed. He almost mistakenly picks up his pocket journal instead of his phone that’s dinging every two seconds. Scattered across the marble floors of his luxury hotel are crumpled up pieces of paper with horrible drafts of his poetry. He should probably clean that up before the housekeepers come in to vacuum the space. 

“You’re really persistent on proving me wrong, huh?”

He can hear you grinning on the other line of the phone call. “I smell victory already. Now, get your ass out of bed. We’re going out on your first date.”

“We’re already going out on my first date?” Jaehyun smirks. “Shouldn’t we get to know each other first?”

You deadpan, rolling on the balls of your feet as you wait for the bus to arrive. There are two things you learned about Jeong Jaehyun for the past twenty-four hours you’ve encountered him. Flirty. You’re not sure if being a poet means you’re automatically a hopeless romantic or someone who’s incredibly great at flirting, but just by his eyes and the way he interacts with people show how flirty he can be. Charming. Jeong Jaehyun has an aura that he carries around with him whenever he’s out in public. He has a unique charm that draws people to him like a magnet. You consider yourself one of those people, now that you’re waiting for a bus that leads you to the address of his hotel.

“You know my name, isn’t that already enough?” 

“How do I know that you’re not a murderer plotting my death?” He copies you and it makes you let out a scowl.

“If I was a murderer, I would’ve had you murdered by now.” He giggles and you find yourself smiling.

“What should I wear to this date, Y/N?” He teases.

The bus arrives. It takes you a couple of seconds to answer his question. You finally get the chance to answer his question when you take a seat next to the window. “You should wear something comfortable.”

“Like pajamas?”

“Alright, not too comfortable.” You laugh.

“Are you on the way? Are you picking me up in a luxury car?” He opens the closet to skim through his limited amount of clothing that he brought with him. His hands stop when they reach a loose white t-shirt. He takes it off the hanger along with a pair of jeans and a leather belt. 

“What do you take me for? A millionaire?” 

“More like a billionaire.” 

“Shut up.”

Half an hour later, you find yourself standing in front of Hôtel de Crillon. You’re staring at the luxury hotel with your mouth slightly hanging open in awe. As a bus drives past you, your eyes trail down towards the entrance and your eyes meet with a familiar pair.

“Hello there,” you flash him a warm smile.

He shoves his hands into his pockets. He tilts his head at you. “Are you not going to compliment how good I look in my outfit?”

You’re rolling your eyes for the nth time. “You look great—”

“Great but not handsome?”

You frown. “Don’t push it.”

The closer he gets to you, the more nervous you get. You’re not sure why you’re the one feeling nervous when he should be the one feeling jittery. As he approaches you, he boldly throws an arm over your shoulder. He looks down at you. As you slowly look up to meet his gaze, you find your heart skipping a beat too many. He doesn’t look great, he looks charming—

“You look beautiful on this fine day, Y/N. Shall we get going to our date location?”

“How romantic. For a first date, that is.”

Jaehyun peers up at the view in front of him until his trance is disrupted by a little girl on a bike that zooms past him. A soft smile spreads across his lips as he scans the area. The Luxembourg Palace stands right in front of him along with a fountain filled with scattered play boats for kids and a wide grass field that’s perfect for picnic dates. 

“Do you like it?”

He glances at you. “I love it.”

“Great!” You exclaim. “We should probably find a spot underneath a tree to have our small picnic.”

He looks down at the medium-sized bag slung over your shoulder. He feels slightly guilty for letting you carry around what seems like a heavy bag on the trip to the garden. “I was wondering why you brought that bag with you.”

You look up at him with bright eyes. It blinds him. “Well, now you know.”

As the both of you are walking across the grass field to sit underneath a tree, you are stopped by a man around your age. He’s holding a film camera in one hand and his phone in the other. You look at him for a brief moment before your eyes land on a beautiful woman sitting on a picnic blanket behind him. 

“Excuse me,” the man hesitantly says, making Jaehyun stop in his tracks. Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow questioningly, prompting the man to continue. “Do you mind taking a picture of my girlfriend and I? I have a film camera and my phone. I’ll teach you how to use the film camera.”

Jaehyun turns to look at you as if he’s asking you for permission. “I—”

“Sure!” You exclaim, letting out a soft giggle. 

“Oh, thank you so much.” You both hear a shy voice say from behind the man. The woman whom you now identify as the man’s girlfriend, gives you both a shy wave before her cheeks flush pink.

“Do you want photos taken on both the film camera and the phone?” You question.

The man nods his head. “Yes, please. Do you know how to operate the film camera?”

“Fortunately, I do.” You chuckle, gesturing the both of them to get ready for the picture. 

Jaehyun’s awkwardly standing next to you, watching you interact with the couple. He’s never felt so awkward in his entire life. He finds himself looking at you as you’re taking a photo of the couple with the phone first.

“Alright, get comfortable with each other. Yes! That’s perfect!” You say with a warm smile. Jaehyun diverts his gaze towards the couple. They’re sitting next to each other with the man’s arm thrown over his girlfriend’s shoulder. “Alright, one, two, three, smile!”

On the count of three, the woman sneakily pecks her boyfriend’s cheek. He’s caught off guard with his eyes slightly widening in surprise. You let out a giggle as it’s all caught on camera. Jaehyun slowly feels entertained by what’s happening right in front of him. 

“I’ll take one more picture for good measure,” you insist. The couple smiles and you take another picture on the phone before switching to the film camera. “Alright, I’m switching to this camera now.”

Jaehyun watches the couple get ready to pose for the next picture. They’re both looking at each other with gazes that Jaehyun just can’t seem to explain. He’s never had someone look at him like that, where someone would look at him with eyes full of love and admiration. There’s a small space in his heart that hopes he could experience something like this, if not, something similar. 

“Alright, one, two, three!” You take the picture on the film camera. “Wow, I think these are going to turn out beautifully. The two of you are such a beautiful couple.”

The man gets up to get his phone and film camera from you. “Oh, thank you so much.”

“How long have you guys been together?” Jaehyun finds himself asking out of nowhere.

You look at him, surprised that he’s interested in their relationship. The man looks at his girlfriend and smiles. “We’ve been together for a year and two months.”

“Wow, so you guys just celebrated your first anniversary together?” You question and they both flush a bright red. They nod their heads. “You’re a lovely couple. I hope you guys stay together! You both look deeply in love with each other.”

“I hope so, too.” The man says softly. He looks down at his phone. “Would you like me to take a picture of the two of you lovebirds?”

You and Jaehyun glance at each other. You’re the first one to tear your gaze away from him. “I—There’s no need to, we wouldn’t want to bother you—”

“You’re not bothering us at all! We can take a picture for you, just as a thank you for taking time out of your date to take a picture of us.” The woman reassures you.

It’s your turn to look at Jaehyun as if you’re asking him for permission. You can’t seem to read his expression and so you look back at the man. “I think we’ll be okay, thank you for the offer, though—”

“We’d love to!” Jaehyun cuts you off and you look at him with surprise. 

You’re not sure what to say or do but Jaehyun’s already pulling out his phone and handing it to the man. As the man is preparing to take the picture, you and Jaehyun awkwardly stand next to each other. It’s evident that the both of you are either acquaintances, friends, or a new couple who are still awkward with each other. There’s no in between.

“Alright, I’m taking a picture on three.” The man reminds you. 

One, Jaehyun looks down at you. You’re fiddling with your fingers. He can tell there are gears turning in your head. Meanwhile, you’re too busy staring straight ahead, not sure if you should lean closer to Jaehyun or if you’re standing from the right distance. Should you tilt your head towards him? No, that would look awkward. 

Two, Jaehyun feels his arm itch. He’s not sure if he should wrap his arm around your waist or over your shoulder. But as the man is counting to three to take the picture, he can’t help but notice how three seconds seems like three painfully long minutes.

Three, Jaehyun does it. He throws his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close to him. You’re caught off guard. As he pulls you close, you find yourself bumping into his side. Your eyes are widened with surprise. The man and his girlfriend let out a squeal.

As the man is handing back Jaehyun his phone, he grins at the both of you. “How long have you guys been together?”

Jaehyun clears his throat. The both of you share a look before he breaks out into a smirk.

“We’ve actually just started dating.”

“What you did today was impressive.”

You and Jaehyun are strolling down the streets of Paris after spending most of your day at Luxembourg Gardens. Montmartre just seems more romantic in the evening with all the fairy lights lit up and with the endless photo ops perfect for couples. Although your first date with Jaehyun is almost over, there’s something within you that wishes that the date would be longer. Little did you know that Jaehyun wishes the same thing too.

You find yourselves standing in front of an ice cream parlour. The both of you share a look.

“Wanna go grab some ice cream before I drop you off at your hotel?” Jaehyun insists.

You smile. “I’d love that.”

And so the both of you step inside the ice cream parlour. There’s a large menu filled with a variety of ice cream flavours. Although there are many new and unique flavours to choose from, your eyes light up at the sight of your favourite flavour.

“What can I get for the lovely couple?”

You both glance at the ice cream vendor before replying in unison, “Pistachio, please.”

Jaehyun looks at you with surprise. You look unfazed as you’re digging through your purse to pay for the both of you. He’s not sure why his heart skips a beat just by the fact that the both of you love pistachio ice cream. It’s almost as if you both had a telepathic moment. 

“Let me pay—”

You stop him from pulling out his wallet. Your hand is placed over his and he feels the sudden urge to hold your hand. “I’ll pay. I already have my cash out.”

“But—”

“Jaehyun.” 

He raises his hands up in defense. “Fine, if you say so.”

The both of you step out of the ice cream parlour with two scoops of pistachio ice cream on a cone. You’re busy gushing over how delicious it is while Jaehyun stops in his tracks at the sight of a huge billboard sitting on top of a building. You haven’t noticed Jaehyun’s sudden absence beside you until you’re about to ask him what he thinks of the ice cream.

“Jaehyun—Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun’s eyes are fixated on the large billboard. You follow his gaze which lands on a billboard of an advertisement. It’s an advertisement for a ballet show. Your mouth opens slightly agape at the sight of a beautiful ballet dancer on the billboard. You tear your gaze from the billboard to look at him. 

You’ve seen that look before. It’s a look where there are stars shining in your eyes, where your smile is soft yet sincere, where you look like a fool… a hopeless fool. 

“I think I know where to take you for our second date.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Where?”

He points up at the billboard. “Tomorrow night. You and me. I’ll pay for the tickets. I hope you like ballet.”

You fold your arms before pointing at the billboard, specifically at the ballet dancer. “You find her really pretty, don’t you? You have a crush on her, don’t you?”

He blows a raspberry. “I don’t—”

“You do.” You let out a soft gasp.

He gives you a look. “I don’t—”

“Your ice cream is melting.” 

You’re handing him a napkin to wipe the ice cream that’s melted down the side of his hand. As he’s wiping the ice cream, he lets out a sigh. “I don’t.”

You shrug your shoulders. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. I’d honestly have a crush on her too. Besides, it’s not bad to have crushes. Having crushes are normal.”

“Define crush.”

As you’re coming up with your own definition of crush, you find yourselves arriving in front of your hotel. You frown. “Let’s save that conversation for another date.”

He nods his head at the door. “You should get going. I should also get going, Y/N. It was a long day. I enjoyed spending it with you.”

A smile slowly starts to spread across your lips. “Me too. Text me when you get to your hotel safely!”

He waves at you before starting to walk away. You’re just about to step inside the hotel building until you have the sudden urge to—

“Jaehyun!”

He slows down and turns around to look at you. “Yeah?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

What was a small smile on his face turned into a bright one. He’s beaming at you before nodding his head. You swear you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Oh boy, this isn’t good.

This isn’t good at all.

And you do see him.

In fact, you see him waiting for you outside of the Théâtre du Châtelet with tickets in his hands. You hand the taxi driver your cash payment and tell him to keep the change before you hop out. As you hop out of the car, your eyes meet his and his blank face transforms into a look of familiarity. 

“Hey, you.” You smile.

“Hey,” he returns a smile. “Shall we head inside? The show is going to start in about fifteen minutes.”

The show starts just a couple of minutes after the both of you get settled in your seats. The lights turn off before they start flickering on and off. As the lights turn on, they focus on a ballet dancer that starts to dance across the stage. She looks beautiful, she looks familiar, she’s the ballet dancer—

“Sunjung.” You hear Jaehyun whisper underneath his breath.

You glance at him. He has that same look on his face from yesterday. There are stars shining in his eyes. His smile is soft… yet sincere. He looks like a hopeless fool. That look means one thing.

He’s in love with her. You know that look all too well. He looks at her as if she’s his entire world. He looks at her with such admiration that it makes your heart ache. You’re not sure if your heart is aching for him or for you. 

You look away from him just before your stare ponders longer than it should. On stage, a male ballet dancer joins her and the song changes to—

“Song for the little sparrow,” you say softly, a gasp getting caught in your throat. 

You and Jaehyun meet eyes. 

It was all starting to make sense to you. You can read Jaehyun like a book, from front to back. 

The reason why Jeong Jaehyun is in Paris is because he’s chasing after the woman he’s in love with, who so happens to be a woman named Sunjung. Jeong Jaehyun is not here for vacation, he’s here because of her. But the more you look at Sunjung and her partner that dances with her on stage, the more you focus on the loving gaze she gives her partner. Sunjung isn’t in love with Jaehyun. Jaehyun flew all the way to Paris to chase after a woman he’s in love with, who happens to be in love with someone else. 

And you’re just someone he randomly chose to accompany him on this journey. You’re just someone he randomly chose to be there for him when he faces the one thing he knows he’ll regret experiencing; rejection.

And you’ve never felt heartbroken for someone your entire life.

“Jaehyun! I can’t believe you’re here!”

If you thought she looked beautiful on stage, she looked perfect up close. Sunjung pulls Jaehyun in for an embrace before pulling away to look at you. You flash her a small smile. Sunjung’s dance partner, extends his hand out for Jaehyun to shake.

“This is Seonghwa,” Sunjung introduces her partner. Her partner looks just as charming as she is. He looks incredibly tall while standing next to her. “He’s my dance partner that I’ve been telling you all about.”

Jaehyun smiles. When you look at him, you can tell that he’s hurting on the inside. “I’m glad I can finally put a name to your face, Seonghwa. Congratulations to the both of you, the show was amazing.”

You gently nudge Jaehyun. He looks at you questioningly. “Introduce me.”

“Ah,” Jaehyun mumbles sheepishly. “This is Y/N, a friend of mine.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Sunjung beams at you. “I hope you enjoyed the show. I was wondering why Jaehyun brought a beautiful lady along with him.”

“The show was beautiful,” you say as you let out a breath. 

Seonghwa’s eyes dart between the two of you. “Are you guys dating or something?”

You and Jaehyun look at each other. Jaehyun fakes a cough, shaking his head. “No, we’re not dating. We’re just friends.”

Ouch. Why did that hurt? You didn’t think it would hurt.

Sunjung stares at the both of you. She pouts. “I was hoping you guys were dating. You guys look adorable together! I honestly thought you were going to introduce me to your new girlfriend, Jaehyun.”

Ouch. Was that supposed to hurt too? 

You let out an uneasy laugh. “Sorry to disappoint. We’re just friends. Right, Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer. You look up at him and the smile on your face is wiped off. 

He looks heartbroken. He looks at her with a longing gaze. It’s a look with many unsaid words. He breaks out into a small smile that doesn’t reach his ears. He blinks and bites his lip. You’ve never experienced rejection, but after seeing him get indirectly rejected, you feel like you’ve experienced it too. There’s a sudden urge to hug him, comfort him, reassure him that things will turn out fine. But you’re not sure how because you don’t think you’re in the right place to do so. You’re sure him and Sunjung have a long, memorable history of friendship that’s irreplaceable. And so you stay silent.

And in the midst of your silence, you swear you can hear his heart shattering into pieces.

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Right. We’re just friends.”

Ever since the both of you left the theatre, you haven’t spoken a single word to each other. You’re trying to find the right words to say to him, but you don’t know him enough to know the right way of comforting him. You’re sure he has a lot of things on his mind, specifically about Sunjung. 

All you could do is look at him with a waiting gaze, as if you’re expecting some sort of explanation. He doesn’t say anything and you respect it by continuing to walk back to your hotel in silence. 

When you’re a couple of metres away from your hotel, he lets out a sigh. “Sunjung’s a long-time friend of mine.” 

You slowly nod your head. “I kind of figured you’ve been friends for a long time.”

He looks quite heartbroken just by the mention of her name. You wonder what happened between the two of them, but at the same time, you didn’t want to force him into talking about something he’s uncomfortable with. He gestures towards your hotel. “We’re here. You should head inside before it gets chilly outside. Good night, Y/N.”

He takes your silence as his cue to leave. As he’s walking away, you can’t seem to stop yourself from saying, “You’re in love with her.”

He stops in his tracks. He looks over his shoulder. 

You repeat yourself. “You’re in love with Sunjung.”

He shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs his shoulders. “How would you know that? I don’t believe in love. Love is stupid. Love doesn’t exist.”

“Your eyes don’t seem to know how to lie, Jaehyun.”

His head hangs low. “You got me. I’m stupidly in love with my best friend. Unfortunately.”

“If you’re in love with her,” you begin with your eyebrows furrowing. “Why don’t you believe in love?”

He smiles. 

“Let’s save that conversation for another date.”

The next time you see Jaehyun, it’s a Sunday evening. He has one more week left before he flies back home. It’s been three days since you last saw him in his heartbroken state. You figured he took three days off to recollect his thoughts and to let the fact that he had just gotten friendzoned by his best friend sink in. 

But the next time you see Jaehyun, it’s a Sunday evening and he looks much better. You see him standing outside of your hotel building from your balcony. He’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, as if he had just woken up from a nap and decided to pay you a visit. 

“Let’s go out on our third date.”

And you do. You find yourself putting on a hoodie the same colour as his before heading downstairs to meet up with him. When you meet up with him, you can’t help but notice how happier he looks. His smile looks genuine. 

“Hey, you.”

He chuckles. “Let’s get going before the sun sets.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Champ de Mars.” He shrugs his shoulders.

You pout. “I was expecting you to tell me it was a surprise.”

“Disappointed?”

You find yourself interlocking arms with him before laughing. “Just a little.”

When you arrive, Jaehyun finds the perfect spot with the perfect view of the Eiffel Tower in front of you. He lays out a blanket for the both of you to sit on and pulls out the takeout trays of food from the paper bag. You’re too busy taking pictures of the Eiffel Tower to notice that everything’s already set up. You glance down to find him already sitting down. He pats the empty spot beside him and you take a seat.

After taking a couple more pictures, you place your phone back into your pocket. He throws his arm over your shoulder and you look at him with surprise. “Jaehyun?”

He looks back at you. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing?” 

The both of you are staring at each other until he takes his arm off your shoulder. He scratches the back of his neck and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry.”

You let out a snort. “I’m just kidding.”

He wraps his arm around your waist instead, catching you off guard. But you pay no attention to it. 

There’s something about you that he admires. It must be the fact that you understand him. It must be the fact that you can read his mind. It must be the fact that you’re not diving into his love life or being too nosey about his feelings for Sunjung and deciding to let him explain everything when he’s comfortable. But it could also be because you look beautiful sitting next to him like this. It could also be the fact that you willingly took a risk and spent your time with him, a complete stranger. 

“I’m in love with Sunjung.” He begins. 

You look up at him. “Are we having that conversation now?”

He laughs. “Can we?”

“We can, if you’re comfortable with that.” You purse your lips into a tight line. 

“Sunjung and I are best friends. We’ve been best friends for the longest time. In fact, I’ve been her best friend that’s been chasing after her for as long as I can remember.” He explains. “But she’s in love with someone else.”

“Is that why you don’t believe in love?” You ask.

He slowly nods his head. “I guess it’s the fear of rejection that makes me believe that love doesn’t exist.”

“But if love doesn’t exist, then rejection shouldn’t exist either.” You had a point. “Being in love with someone could make you the happiest person on the entire planet, but it could also ruin you through rejection.”

“You have a point.” He sighs. “I flew all the way to Paris just to chase after her. The more I try to chase after her and the more I try to make her mine, the more I start to believe that I know nothing about love and that it doesn’t exist.”

“Really?” You ask.

“Really.” He mumbles. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Now that I’m hearing this, I think I’m starting to believe that if there was one person who believes in love with all his heart, it would be you.” You answer. “You’re just being swayed by the fact that the woman you’re in love with doesn’t love you back. Rejection is the only reason why you don’t believe in love. But I think you should embrace rejection because it’ll only make you a better person. In fact, rejection will make you a person who anticipates the next opportunity to fall in love again, but with another person.”

“Do you think so?” He whispers.

You raise an eyebrow. “About what?”

“Do you think I’ll ever fall in love again, after Sunjung?” He asks.

You place your hand on top of his before nodding your head. 

“Love happens with the right person at the right time. I’m more than sure that you’ll fall in love again, you just have to allow your heart to do it.”

Jaehyun falls against his bed and lets out a sigh. He’s looking up at the ceiling of his room. Suddenly, he pulls out his phone and goes through his photos. He starts swiping for a particular picture until he finds it. A smile begins to spread across his lips. It’s the photo of you and him at Luxembourg Gardens. He has his arm wrapped around you and you’re looking at the camera with slightly widened eyes. Your cheeks heat up while his ears redden.

“Hey, Jaehyun?”

He hears you call out his name after he dropped you off at your hotel room. He’s waiting for the elevator to arrive. He looks at you. You’re poking your head through the door. “Yeah?”

You bite back a smile that threatens to form on your lips. “I just wanted to let you know that if it weren’t for Sunjung and your feelings for her, I’d definitely fall in love with you. Sunjung is clearly missing out on someone she doesn’t deserve.”

The elevator arrives and he’s too distracted by your words to even notice the elevator doors opening. He scratches the back of his neck. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Goodnight.”

You smile. “Goodnight, Jaehyun.”

Before he steps into the elevator, he tries to talk to you before you close the door. “Hey, Y/N?”

You look at him questioningly. “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to let you know that if I wasn’t in love with Sunjung, I’d definitely fall in love with you too.”

Five days left until Jaehyun flies back to Seoul. He has five days left to spend with you. It’s funny how he’s deciding to spend those five days with you and not with Sunjung. But it’s not like he really had a choice because you’d always insist on going out on another date.

“Golden hour?”

You’re grabbing his hand and running down the sidewalks of Paris. He looks down at your hands. You’re too busy looking down at your phone for the map directions to even notice that you absent-mindedly grabbed his hand. “Yes! Golden hour! Apparently, the best time to do it is during golden hour!”

“Where are we going?” He questions.

“The Seine!”

He pouts. “I was kind of expecting you to say that it’ll be a surprise.”

You laugh and it’s such a beautiful sound to his ears. You look at him from over your shoulder. “Disappointed?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all.”

Ever since you made what seems like a subtle love confession to Jaehyun last night, you couldn’t help but notice a huge weight being lifted off your shoulders. The image of his warm smile when he heard your words remains etched in your mind. You know that this won’t end how you want it to be, but you’re fine with it. You’d rather let your heart fall in love than cage it up with huge walls. Besides, you’re in the city of love, why would you hold yourself back?

It takes half an hour for the both of you to arrive at the Seine. There’s a ton of couples gathered at the Seine, most of them lining up at the booth to pick up their tickets. Luckily for you, you had booked your tickets in advance. You’re just about to tell Jaehyun something until you catch him looking at the river in awe. The sun is starting to set, making everything more romantic. 

“Wow.” He breathes out.

You smile proudly. “I know. Let’s lineup so we can get a good spot on the cruise.”

The cruise occurs every hour during its busiest times. You and Jaehyun decide to stick around on the lower level of the boat. As the boat is starting to move across the river, you find yourself taking a seat on one of the benches. 

“This is amazing,” he says softly.

“I did a pretty good job with this, don’t you think?” He nods his head.

He gets up from the bench and walks towards the railings. You’re too busy staring at his back profile, admiring the view right in front of you. His skin is glowing from the sun that’s shining down on him. Your mind finds itself taking a picture. You’re smiling brightly.

As you join him, you place your hands on the railings. He turns to you. “Hey, you never told me how long you’ll be here for.”

You glance at him. “Because I myself, don’t know how long I’ll be here for.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” you sigh. “Let’s just say I packed my things and bought a one-way ticket to Paris. I decided that when I feel like I’m ready to fly back home, then I’ll buy my plane ticket.”

“This might come off rude but I’m just curious,” he chuckles. “Are you really here in Paris for vacation?”

You smile and shake your head. “I’m not. I flew to Paris to escape.”

“Escape from what?”

“From my reality.” You answer. “Well, I’m more so escaping from my father. Just like my father, I’m a painter. He has high expectations of me and it’s extremely difficult to live up to his standards.”

“I’m sure your work is amazing, though.” He mumbles.

You giggle. “My last art exhibit was a huge success. But I didn’t expect getting burnt out a couple of months later. It was like I forgot how to pick up a paintbrush. I decided I needed to take a break. My father wasn’t happy to hear that.”

“And so you flew out to Paris?”

You point at him. “Bingo. I packed a suitcase and I told him I was flying out to Paris. I will never forget the look on his face. It was priceless. I’m sure I’ll be in huge trouble when I fly back.”

“Are you ready to fly back, though?” He asks.

It takes a while for you to come up with an answer. But when you do, you find yourself nodding.

“I think I’m ready. I was bound to go back home, anyways.”

This is the downside of meeting someone in a country you don’t live in. It’s all fun and games when meeting someone new, but the worst is knowing the fact that the both of you will eventually separate, where one will have to go back home and the other is left behind. 

But in this case, you met someone in Paris who doesn’t live in Paris. You fell in love with Paris and the stranger you befriended. It’ll be all fun and games until you both realize that you’ll eventually separate, where the both of you go back home.

And you guess you both realized that now.

Three more days until Jaehyun flies back home. Three more days to spend with you. You both find yourselves spending an afternoon at the Sainte-Chapelle. Underneath the stained glass, you both stand next to each other with your shoulders brushing against each other. 

You steal a glance at Jaehyun. 

You’re in love with him. You’ve fallen in love with him. But you know he’s in love with someone else. And that’s okay. It was bound to happen anyways. But even though you knew it was bound to happen, it still hurt. Just a little bit.

He catches you staring at him and he smirks. “Why are you staring at me?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

“I want to get married here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

He hums in reply. “Really.”

You chuckle. “Am I invited to your wedding?”

There’s a part of him that wishes you didn’t ask such a question. He swore he imagined seeing you walk down the aisle, not as his guest sitting in the congregation. The thought of it terrifies him.

“Of course.” He chuckles. “You’re an honorary guest.”

You find yourself smiling. “That sounds nice to hear.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh. It catches you off guard. As you look up at him questioningly, you watch his shoulders slump. “I wish I fell in love with you instead. I wish I met you before Sunjung. Maybe things would have turned different.”

You tear your gaze away from him. “Things would have definitely turned out differently.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

It all feels bittersweet. “How so?”

“Because if you fell in love with me instead and if you had met me before Sunjung, I would have fallen in love with you in a heartbeat, just like how I’ve fallen in love with you now.”

Two days before Jaehyun flies back home. Little did he know you had already packed your things. You’re ready to fly back home. You think it’s time to go back home. But you knew that you couldn’t just leave him without a farewell. With your flight near midnight, you decide to spend your last day in Paris with him. 

You spend the afternoon at Pont des Arts. Along the bridge are an endless amount of locks on its railings. It’s weird how you’re both holding hands like a couple. 

“Where do you think we can get a lock?”

You snort. “Are you trying to be cheesy? Why do we need a lock?”

He gestures towards the locks on the railings of the bridge. “So that we can do this together.”

“But we’re not dating,” you remind him. 

“But you’re in love with me.” He says softly and you roll your eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“We don’t need to do this. The person you should be doing this with is Sunjung.”

“Can we just forget about Sunjung for today?” He asks. “We’re getting a lock.”

And you both do. The lock comes with two keys, one for you and the other for him. You’re both standing near the railings, trying to find an empty spot to put the lock on. Everything feels like a mixture of bittersweetness and cheesiness, but you both do it anyway. 

“Couples usually write their initials on the lock, put it on the railing, and then throw the keys to the lock into the water.” Jaehyun explains.

You snort. “Funny how you told me how you didn’t believe in love when we first met and yet here you are, telling me all about a romantic practice couples usually do.”

The lock is secured in its place. He looks at you as he prepares to throw his key into the water. He chucks the key out into the water and turns towards you as he waits for you to throw yours in. You don’t. He looks at you confusedly.

“Why aren’t you throwing yours into the water?”

“I think I should be asking you why you threw yours into the water, sir.” You fold your arms. 

“Love happens with the right person at the right time.” He recalls what you had said to him one night. “I threw mine into the water because I know that love will happen when I meet you again at the right time. I’ll just have to allow my heart to do it.”

You flash him a sad smile. “I can’t wait until that time comes.”

“Me too.”

You look towards the water before throwing your key. 

Someday.

That time will come.

Someday.

“Hey, Jaehyun?” 

“Yeah?”

You hesitate. “I’m flying home tonight.”

His smile vanishes from his face. “Tonight?”

You nod. “Tonight.”

He avoids your gaze. “We should probably get you back to your hotel, then, huh?”

As much as you hate telling him, you knew that he had to know. He doesn’t look upset, surprisingly. It’s probably because he knew that things would end like this. It was expected. He just didn’t expect it to happen sooner than he thought.

When you arrive at your hotel, the sun has already set. Jaehyun helps you with your suitcases as you bring it down to the hotel lobby. As your taxi arrives, he helps you put your things into the trunk of the car. When everything’s set to go, the both of you stand there awkwardly, looking at each other.

“I guess this is it.”

“Yeah.” You say softly.

“You have my number, right?” He asks.

You nod. “I do. Nothing to worry.”

“Text me when you land.” He says. 

“I will,” you reassure him. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

“I’ll try.” He chuckles.

Jaehyun doesn’t know what came over him but he can’t seem to stop himself from grabbing your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss. You’re caught off guard with your eyes widening in shock. His lips feel soft and plump, so irresistible that you pull him closer. He deepens the kiss and you swore you felt his tongue lightly graze yours. Your heart wants it to last longer but you will yourself to pull away. 

You bite your lip. “Uh—I’ll see you around?”

He looks just as surprised as you are. “I’ll—yeah, I’ll see you around.”

You give him a timid wave before hopping into the car. As you buckle in your seat, you roll down the windows to see Jaehyun still standing there, waiting to send you off. “Jaehyun?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you and Sunjung end up together. You deserve to be loved.”

And he looks at you with a look you can’t seem to read. You roll the windows back up and the car starts to drive off. You turn around to see Jaehyun waving at you. You wave back, mustering up a smile. When Jaehyun’s figure gets smaller and smaller, you turn back around to face the front. You bite back a sob.

You knew it would hurt.

You knew it would end this way.

But you still allowed yourself to get hurt.

“Ma’am?” You snap out of your thoughts.

The taxi driver is offering you a box of Kleenex tissues. “Yes?”

“It looks like you need it.”

And you sure did.

“Welcome home—”

Your father cuts himself off when he hears you slam your bedroom door shut. He frowns, glancing at your suitcase that you lazily left by the door. He walks towards your suitcases to bring them into the living room until he spots your plane ticket.

He slowly picks it up. “Paris? Of all places, why Paris?”

The longer he stares at it, the more he starts to put things together.

Five months later…

BREAKING NEWS: Best-selling poet, Jeong Jaehyun, officially engaged to long-time friend and ballet dancer, Kim Sunjung

You wish it was a joke. 

But it isn’t.

“Holy shit, you look like a fucking mess.”

“I know.”

Jungwoo stands at the door with a bag filled with canned beer. When you had called him to come over for a beer night, he didn’t expect to show up to see a brokenhearted friend moping in front of a TV screen. He takes a seat next to you on the couch and starts to take out the cans of beer. He’s placing them onto the coffee table, taking a look at you every now and then to make sure you’re doing alright. But you’re clearly not. You’re not alright.

“So, when were you planning on telling me that you fell in love with a stranger in Paris?”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Was it that obvious?”

“What? That you fell in love in Paris?” He asks. You hum in reply. “Well, while you were in Paris, I was expecting you to call me during your vacation but you didn’t. I didn’t hear from you for two weeks, what did you want me to expect?”

“Never fall in love, especially in Paris.” You sigh, wiping your tears. You grab a can of beer and pry it open. You take your first sip of the night before wincing. 

He points at the screen. “You do have extremely good taste, though. Jeong Jaehyun? The flavour is incredibly immaculate.”

“I should probably get my mind off of it,” you whisper. “Or should I say, get my mind off of him.”

He snorts. “And how are you going to do that? By painting?”

“Yeah,” you mumble. “By doing exactly that.”

“Well, shit, I thought you were going to say no.” Jungwoo lets out a light-hearted laugh that rings in your ears. “But I think that would be a good idea. It’ll get your mind off of him. You never know, it might even help you move on.”

“Is it bad that I don’t want to move on?” You think aloud. 

“Well, yes and no.” Jungwoo answers your thoughts. “It really depends on the situation.”

“How?”

He surprisingly finishes his first can of beer and moves on to his second. “From how heartbroken you are over him, I like to think that you’re both right for each other. You just both met the right people at the wrong time.”

“You think I met the right person at the wrong time?”

He nods. “Exactly so.”

It’s been five months since you last saw Jaehyun. It’s been five months since you last heard from him too. No text. No phone call. No nothing. Whatever happened between the two of you in Paris remains a memory that will forever be etched in your mind. You’re not sure if you could say the same thing for him. 

You wonder if he’s doing alright. You wonder if he’s happy that he finally captured Sunjung’s heart. You wonder if he’s been eating his meals. You wonder if he’s getting enough sleep. Because you aren’t. You aren’t doing alright. You haven’t been eating your meals. You haven’t been getting enough sleep. And yet, it hurts even more knowing that he’s probably not even thinking about you. You probably don’t even cross his mind.

The news reporter on the TV screen continues to report the evening news. Your ears perk up at the sound of his name.

“Jeong Jaehyun will be holding a book signing for his new poetry book, Right Person, Wrong time, at the city’s biggest bookstore this Saturday at noon.”

It’s a huge mistake to be here. 

But you are. You’re holding Jaehyun’s new poetry book in your arms as you’re walking towards the end of the line. Jungwoo’s voice echoes in your mind, telling you that this is a bad idea, but you’re stubborn. The line up shortens as more and more books are being signed by him. You find yourself a couple of metres near the table. You stand up on your tip-toes to get a good look of him. When you finally spot him, you let out a gasp. Your eyes start to water.

He hasn’t changed. He still looks the same. He just looks more tired. His smile reaches his ears. He looks happy. It makes your heart ache. You wish you were happy as him. But between the two of you, you felt like you were the only one left behind. He’s chasing his own happiness and here you are, left behind, trying to find what’s left between the both of you.

“What’s your name?” Jaehyun asks the teenager.

The teenager smiles. “Mina.”

He’s signing the teenager’s book. “You look familiar.”

“I do? I think it’s because I bumped into you in Paris a few months back. You were at the Musée d’Orsay!” The teenager exclaims. 

Jaehyun’s hand stops writing. He slowly looks up at her. “Paris? Musée d’Orsay?”

“Yes! I asked for your autograph. You were looking at one of the artworks from Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s exhibition.” The teenager tries to recall her memory. “I think you were looking at Dance in the Country.”

Jaehyun smiles wider. “I remember you! Wow, what a small world.”

She giggles. “Yes, what a small world we live in.”

He closes the book and pushes it towards her. “I’m glad to see you again. I hope you take care! Thank you for coming to my book signing.”

“Thank you,” she says sheepishly. “Congratulations on your engagement, too!”

He thanks her and just as she starts to leave, he begins to welcome the next person in line. But right when he flashes the next reader a smile, his eyes meet yours. His smile is immediately wiped off of his face. You’re looking back at him in shock.

You bite your lip. You’re the first one to look away. 

Indeed, this is a bad idea. This is a huge mistake. You find yourself stepping out of your line and looking for the exit. When you find the exit, your walking starts to speed up. 

Jaehyun places his pen down and he’s immediately getting up from his chair. He watches you as you walk towards the exit. “Sorry, give me one second.”

He’s stepping down from the stage and everyone’s looking at him as he tries to chase after you. He’s pushing past people who are looking around the bookstore. Right when he steps outside of the bookstore, he looks left and right, in hopes of finding you.

But he doesn’t. 

He scratches the back of his head. He swore he saw you. He looked into your eyes. He was so sure of it.

You try to catch your breath. When you do, you look behind a brick wall to see Jaehyun walking back into the bookstore. He scratches the back of his head. You sigh with relief.

Four months later…

“Please welcome, my daughter and pride, Y/N!”

The sound of clapping echoes throughout the exhibition room as you join your father on the small stage. He pulls you into a tight embrace. A couple of weeks after you flew back home from Paris, your father seemed to be less strict with you. He let you work at your own pace and stopped restricting you from living your life to the fullest. As a result, nine months later, you complete your second art exhibit in your career. And the turn out? Successful.

“Good evening, everyone.” You greet the large group of visitors. “First off, I wanted to thank you for taking time out of your busy day to visit this exhibition. It means a lot to me.”

Everyone is intently listening to you and you grow nervous from the attention. You look at your father for reassurance. He gestures you to continue. You look back at everyone.

“After my first successful art exhibit, I got burnt out. I packed a suitcase and flew a one-way trip to Paris in hopes of finding inspiration again. Little did I know, things turned out much differently than I expected.” You let out a chuckle. “This art exhibit is special because it highlights most of the memories I made in Paris with a stranger I met.”

You feel your father place his hand on your shoulder. You look at him with teary eyes. 

“I don’t want to hold you all back from seeing the art and so, I present to you, my second art exhibit, Song for a Little Sparrow. Enjoy.”

As you watch everyone start to wander off to different paintings, you head towards one of the table stands to grab yourself a glass of wine. You needed some alcohol in your system. You join Jungwoo at one of the tables. He starts clapping for you as you approach him.

“Congratulations,” he smiles.

You fist-bump him. “Thanks.”

“You chose Song for a Little Sparrow over Wrong person, Right Time?” He asks.

“And what about it?” You take a sip of your wine. 

“Do you think you met Jaehyun at the right time?” Jungwoo questions.

You slowly nod your head after much thought. “He’s getting married with someone he’s in love with. He’s the wrong person who came at the right time. I was burnt out, he was chasing the love of his life. We both met each other at the right time. Look what came out of it. He’s getting married and I managed to get my creativity flowing again.”

He swirls the wine in his glass. “But are you still in love with him?”

You stare at him. “It wouldn’t matter, anyways. He’s getting married. Thus, wrong person, right time.”

“What if I told you that I just saw him walk into the exhibit?” 

“Stop joking around—”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” You cut him off. Your eyes scan the exhibit. “I can’t see him. I don’t see him. You’re joking. Stop joking around—”

“He’s right there—”

“Where?!” You exclaim.

“I’m just joking.”

You down your glass of wine before letting out a scowl. He’s laughing his ass off. “Fuck you.”

“Love you too,” he sends you a flying kiss. “I’m going to go mingle with some visitors. You never know, I might just meet the love of my life tonight.”

“I hope you don’t.”

“Do you really? Because if you do, you might have to spend the rest of your life with me—”

You fake a gag. “Yeah, please, go mingle. I’d rather spend the rest of my life with a house filled with puppies than spend it with you.”

He pretends to look offended. “I’m hurt. Anyways, see you later, love.”

You grin. “Go get em’, tiger.” 

As he’s a couple of metres away, he turns back around to shout at you. “Don’t get too tipsy!”

“One ticket please.”

“Sorry, sir, the exhibition is closing in about half an hour. We’re not taking anymore visitors—”

Jaehyun takes off his shades and the ticket vendor clamps his mouth shut. What seems like the manager pushes him aside and looks at Jaehyun for a brief moment. “That’s quite unfortunate. When are you opening tomorrow?”

The manager clears his throat. “Well, we can give you a ticket for the remaining half hour, Mr. Jeong. It’ll be discounted. You can also choose to come back tomorrow, instead.”

Jaehyun purses his lips into a tight line. “Is the artist present at the exhibit?”

“Yes, Mr. Jeong.”

He smiles. “Then I’ll take the discounted ticket, please and thank you.”

The manager is scurrying to print an admission ticket. Jaehyun can’t help but look at him with amusement. There sure are some perks like these when you’re a best-selling author. As the manager is handing him his ticket, he thanks them and rushes towards the art exhibit down the hallway before time runs out. From behind him, the manager and the ticket vendor are beginning to close up the entrance gates to the art museum.

Jaehyun stops in front of the doors to the exhibit room to catch his breath. When he saw a billboard with your name and the date of your art exhibit plastered all over it, he did not hesitate to make a trip to the art museum on it’s first day of viewing to the public. 

His feet drag him into the room. There’s not much people left in the exhibit room because it’s almost closing time. There are a couple of people looking at the art, him included. 

He’s making the last half hour worth his time by stopping to look at each painting carefully. The first painting he looks at is a painting of a couple standing in front of a familiar museum. It’s a couple taking a picture in front of the Musée d’Orsay. His eyes flutter shut as he reminisces a memory from the back of his mind.

“What do you do for a living? You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to—”

“I’m a painter. What kind of question is that? Are we out on a blind date or something? I don’t remember meeting you on tinder.”

“You’re a painter? Like, you paint on canvas?”

“I was expecting more of an enthusiastic reaction or even better, a look of surprise. But yes, sorry to disappoint, I’m a painter. I pick up a paintbrush and I make strokes on canvas. That’s what I do for a living.”

“I’m sure you’re very talented. You should show me a couple of your paintings. Even better, why don’t you paint me like—”

“Like one of my French girls?”

“You probably get that a lot, huh?”

“I get that a shit ton of times that I am this close to throwing up.”

“God, I feel like throwing up whenever I see a couple out on the street. Like those two over there.”

“They’re in love. Leave them alone.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely leave them alone.”

“Stop being such a con artist, I’m sure you’ve been in love before.”

“I have—”

“And it was a nice feeling, right?”

“It was more so disappointing.”

He lets out a soft chuckle as he opens his eyes again. Before he moves onto the next painting, he can hear your bubbly laugh echoing through his mind.

“I’m going to take you out on dates for two weeks. And on those dates, I’ll prove to you that love exists.”

“And you expect this to work?”

“One hundred percent.”

“How do you know for sure?” 

“If you don’t feel some sort of way after going out on dates with me, then love isn’t real. But if you do feel some sort of way, then love is real.” 

“So, basically, if I fall in love with you, love is real. But if I don’t fall in love with you, then love isn’t real?”

“Perfect!” 

“So, your goal is to make me fall in love with you?” 

“Yes, but at the same time, no.” 

“Is that even possible?”

“It’s possible. Just don’t fall in love with me.”

He moves onto the next painting. It’s a painting of the Luxembourg Palace. A smile is slowly starting to spread across his lips.

“How long have you guys been together?”

“We’ve actually just started dating.”

The next painting is a painting of what seems to be Sunjung and Seonghwa. It’s a painting of them dancing across the stage in the theatre. He glances down at his fourth finger that’s missing a wedding ring. 

“You’re in love with her.”

“How would you know that? I don’t believe in love. Love is stupid. Love doesn’t exist.”

“Your eyes don’t seem to know how to lie, Jaehyun.”

“You got me. I’m stupidly in love with my best friend. Unfortunately.”

“If you’re in love with her, why don’t you believe in love?”

The painting he looks at next is a painting of a picnic at the Champ de Mars. Sitting in the middle of the painting is the Eiffel Tower. He assumes that it’s a painting of your view from the picnic you both had.

“Do you think so?”

“About what?”

“Do you think I’ll ever fall in love again, after Sunjung?” 

“Love happens with the right person at the right time. I’m more than sure that you’ll fall in love again, you just have to allow your heart to do it.”

He finds himself taking more time to look at the last two paintings. He stands in front of a painting of the purple stained glass at the Sainte-Chapelle. He leans towards the painting to get a closer look. He chuckles when he sees that you painted the both of you as a reflection in the glass. 

“I wish I fell in love with you instead. I wish I met you before Sunjung. Maybe things would have turned different.”

“Things would have definitely turned out differently.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“How so?”

“Because if you fell in love with me instead and if you had met me before Sunjung, I would have fallen in love with you in a heartbeat, just like how I’ve fallen in love with you now.”

When he moves onto the last painting, he feels a gasp getting caught in his throat. It’s a painting of someone he knows all too well. It’s a painting of him. It’s a painting of him standing near the railings of the cruise at the Seine river. It’s your view of him from behind. 

He’s sure he’s in love with you.

He’s so sure of it.

“It’s beautiful, huh?” He snaps out of it. It’s a familiar voice.

His head snaps to his left. You’re standing right next to him. You’re already looking at him when he glances at you. He can’t seem to find a word to say, especially when you’re standing right in front of him. He’s not sure what to say when you flash him a warm smile that holds so much meaning.

“Hi,” he breathes out.

You giggle. “Hi, there.”

“C-Congratulations on your exhibit,” he manages to blurt out.

You blush. “Thanks. Congratulations on your book too. I read it actually, and I really enjoyed it.”

He clears his throat, pointing towards the painting in front of the both of you. “Is this me?”

You snort. “Who else would it be?”

“I feel honoured.” He mumbles.

You glance down at your wristwatch. “Well, I hate to say this but it’s closing time.”

“Already?”

You nod. “We wouldn’t want to keep anybody from going home to their families, right?”

“Ah, you’re right.” He lets out a sheepish laugh. 

You purse your lips into a line and pat his shoulder. “It was nice seeing you, Jaehyun. I hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself. Thank you for dropping by, it means so much to me. I’ll get going. My father’s waiting for me.”

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows in confusion. You’re starting to walk away from him. He doesn’t want to lose you again. Why are you walking away from him?

You slow down in your tracks before turning around again. His eyebrows raise. “Jaehyun?”

“Yeah?”

“Congratulations on your engagement.” You smile. “It’s nice to see that you finally got a hold of Sunjung. Tell her I said hi—”

He shakes his head. “I called off the engagement. We’re not getting married.”

“Huh?” That’s all that manages to slip from your lips. “What did you just say?”

“I called off the engagement? We’re not getting married?” He repeats himself and it all comes out as a question. 

“Why would you do that?” You look at him as if he’s crazy. “You literally chased Sunjung all the way to Paris and after getting engaged with her, you called the engagement off? Are you in your right mind?”

“I called it off because of this.” He gestures towards all the paintings in the exhibit. “I called it off because of you, because of my feelings for you.”

“You’re not making any sense, Jaehyun—”

“When I published Right Person, Wrong Time, Sunjung kept asking me if it was about her, if all the poems I wrote were about her.” He explains. “I couldn’t just tell her that they were about you, not when we were engaged. I wrote those poems during the two weeks I was with you in Paris.”

“They were about me?”

“We fought a lot after the engagement. I was starting to believe that the Sunjung I fell in love with was different to the Sunjung I got engaged to.” He continues to explain. “And then I thought, was this all just a mind game? Did I do all of this and fall in love with Sunjung only for things to turn out like this?”

“Jaehyun—”

“And then I remembered the things you said to me back in Paris. At that very moment, it came down to whether I should choose the woman I’m in love with or the woman who’s in love with me.” He cuts you off. “I decided to call off the engagement. Sunjung is the definition of the wrong person at the wrong time.”

“I—”

“Love happens with the right person at the right time.” He reminds you. “I knew that allowing my heart to fall in love again with the right person at the right time would happen and I knew that the right person would be you. But I was scared. I was terrified. It has already been seven months since I last saw or spoken to you.”

“I’m still mad at you for that, but just a little—”

“And then yesterday, I saw a billboard with an advertisement for your art exhibition and I thought, fuck it, I’ll go because I wanted to see you.” He sighs. “And that brings me here.”

“Are you happy to be here?”

“I’m more than happy to be here.” He sighs happily. “Just seeing you makes me happy.”

You bite your lip. “How could you be so sure that I’m still in love with you? What if I’m not?”

“If you’re not, then that’s fine. If I could spend the rest of my life waiting, I would. I know that there will be the perfect time, the right time for the two of us because I know you’re the right person for me.” 

You smile. “Then I guess, this is the right time and moment.”

“Shit, is it really?”

You burst out into laughter. “Yes, Jaehyun. I’m still in love with you. I don’t think there was ever a time where I wasn’t.”

“God, I want to kiss you.”

“Do it. I dare you.”

He’s rushing over towards you and once he has his hands wrapped around your waist, the moment is ruined when there’s a security guard knocking on one of the doors to the exhibit room. The both of you pull away like two repelling magnets.

“Sorry, it’s closing time. I’m going to have to ask you to leave the museum. Thank you.”

“The paint is surprisingly cold.”

“Stay still!”

Jaehyun straightens his posture as he feels the cold paint brushing against his back. You’re making a couple of strokes on his back before leaning away to adjust your glasses on your nose bridge. Jaehyun looks over his shoulder and lets out a low chuckle. You raise an eyebrow.

“What are you looking at, doofus?”

“You have paint on your nose.”

You gasp. “Where? Can you get it off for me?”

He shakes his head with a teasing grin. “I don’t want to. You look cute like that anyways.”

“You little shit—”

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s going on in here?”

“Jungwoo, get out! You’re interrupting my creative process!”

tag list! @lanadreamie​ 

author’s note. thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it!