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satoruvt · 4 years

Text

for a moment i forget to worry

pairing → xu minghao x reader

word count → 3196

genre → fluff + angst, college au ↳ tags: strangers to friends to lovers </3, college kinda sux, ROOMMATE CHAN MAKES AN APPEARANCE OR TWO, dance major minghao, reader is completely lost but its ok who isnt, lots of cute couple stuff, pov ur entire relationship with minghao. thats it, a sad break up scene, a solid amount of crying

summary → there’s something about minghao. maybe it’s the way he dances, vibrant and youthful, or maybe it’s the way he loves you. based off of hunger by florence + the machine.

warnings → i hint at sex but its pretty vague, i also mention a breakdown type deal (revolving around school/life after school)

a/n → first of all this was NOT supposed to be 3k words i dont know how it happened. second of all i’m only kind of happy with this HAHA i feel like the story itself isnt bad but i wanted it to match the song more ... idk :/ i hope u guys like it regardless !!!

pieces of you masterlist

The first time you see him is by accident.

Really - all you’re doing is trying to find Chan. You’re passing by the practice rooms, looking into them in hope he’ll be there, stopping to gaze at decorations and medals and trophies lined up on the walls. It’s when you approach a room that music plays from that you think you’ve found Chan, but when you gaze in, it’s definitely not him.

You don’t know who it is, but he moves like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

It’s hypnotizing, almost makes you want to drop your things and dance with him. There’s a sense of youth that comes from him and it’s almost overwhelming - but it’s not in energy, necessarily, but rather from the precision of his movements, the technicalities that he seems to both follow and break at the same time. Something vibrant seeps out between the seams of his body, colors you can barely recognize as they splash against anything they can reach. It’s almost tangible.

You watch him long enough for him to finish his performance (an unknowing one) with the last notes of a song you forgot was even playing. His eyes meet with yours, slow as he completes an eloquent turn, and at the same time, a hand meets your shoulder.

A small wave of embarrassment washes over you, and you turn towards whoever touched you, effectively breaking eye contact. “What are you doing here?” Chan asks, hair still wet from what you assume was a shower.

“Looking for you,” you tell him, following as he starts to walk towards the exit. “I wanted lunch, and you owe me for that time I took your British literature quiz for you.”

Chan groans but agrees to pay, and you laugh, though the world seems a little paler than it did a few moments ago.

The second time you see him is by chance.

(Maybe.)

You’re waiting for a lecture to start, tapping your fingers against your laptop idly as you watch students trickle in last minute. It’s not a strict course, but it does start at nine in the morning, and most everyone shows up with a coffee.

You look down to brush a stray hair off of your table, and when you look up again, the dancer from before walks through the door, then looks right at you.

You feel a blush heat your face and it’s like he wants to make sure that you know that he knows, because he almost refuses to look away. You break eye contact first (like the last time, you remember for no reason) but still watch as his figure moves up the stairs, past the rows, and you hope he’ll just move past you too…

He doesn’t. He takes the empty seat right next to yours, and you don’t say anything, instead finding the peeling sticker on your laptop incredibly interesting. The professor comes in and decides that today he’ll take extra long to set everything up, apparently, and you want to scream.

“So,” the dancer says, voice quiet. It takes your breath away, the way he sounds. “Mind if I ask why you were watching me the other day?”

You cast a glance at him - not too long, you don’t think you could handle more than five seconds tops - and finally open your laptop so it makes you look busy. “I was waiting for a friend.”

“And?”

The smile in his voice is palpable. You’re already exasperated.

“You…” you start, finally deciding to look at him as some sort of subconscious power move. “You’re a beautiful dancer. It was hard not to watch.”

Beautiful doesn’t even cover half of it, but you figure he already thinks you’re weird for watching him, so you hold back the thoughts of youth and vibrancy and color. The dancer looks at you, almost blank for a moment, before a soft smile draws itself on his face. It makes your heart beat a little faster. He says “thank you” with a gentle tone, sincerely felt.

The class starts, and the two of you don’t speak throughout the next hour and a half. You type out notes on your laptop and you see him write down names of the paintings being shown on the projector, little thoughts and notes written afterwards.

By the end of class, your professor assigns an optional partnered project, and you’re more than prepared to head back to your apartment and start on it yourself. The dancer stops you before you leave, however, asks if you’d like to be his partner.

(And he says it like that, would you like to be my partner, polite and somehow sweet.)

You know your answer. “I don’t even know your name,” you stall, standing from your chair.

“Minghao,” he tells you. “I’m Minghao, and I’d like for you to be my partner.”

You say yes easily, put your number into his contacts even easier. The sky is blue when you leave the lecture hall, trees dotted with pink and purple flowers, and it is all so bright that you forget it wasn’t this way in the first place.

The third time you see him is for school.

Underneath the excitement of giving Minghao your number, there is the knowledge that it’s for the sake of an assignment. He texts you the day after to ask if you’re free to meet up to work and you tell him sure.

(Sure is what you send back, but he doesn’t have to know that you burst into Chan’s room immediately after, plunging face first into his bed just to scream into his pillows. Chan had sighed, turned around in his desk chair to look at you, then asked what happened. He gave you two minutes to rant and then kicked you out, back to your own room.)

You and Minghao agreed to meet at the library on a day that neither of you had any afternoon classes, and you get there early, spend some time working on other classes. You have somewhere around thirty minutes to freak out to yourself before you see Minghao come in, dressed like he knows what he’s doing to you (which is really just a hoodie and jeans, but you think it’s the cap that really pulls the whole boyfriend look together), smiling when he finds you at a table in the corner.

“How are you?” is the first thing he says when he sits down, and you pull down your laptop screen a little to see him better.

“I’m good,” you say, feeling your heart pound. “What about you?”

Minghao sends you a kind smile. “Really good. Should we get started?”

You lose count of how many times you see him after that.

Meeting up to work on the project soon becomes just meeting up, and after the project’s done and turned in, it happens even more. You hang out and get lunch, send each other texts and stupid videos, take walks around campus together. The weeks pass, summer mellows into fall, then into the early days of winter. You develop a genuine friendship with him, finding comfort in his presence, looking for him wherever you go.

(Although the crush is still there, potent and patient, stubborn in a way you’ve never experienced before. You wonder if it’s a sign of some sort.)

You’re in one of the practice rooms with him, sitting in the corner. You had a class nearby and he’d wanted to practice a little more, so you told him you’d work on your own stuff while he finished up and then the two of you could grab something to eat.

But you made a small error on your part - the dancing. You’d forgotten the way he moves (you haven’t seen him dance since that first time) and in no time at all you’re letting your screen go dark in front of you and watching him. Honestly, it’s not your fault, you really can’t help it.

But of course he notices.

Minghao meets your eyes through the mirror and raises his eyebrows at you, and all you can do is look away, desperately try to get your laptop up and running again so at least it seems like you weren’t watching him for too long.

“You’re staring,” he says, long after you’ve looked away.

“Sorry,” you tell him anyways, immediate, quick.

Then he says, “I never said anything about stopping.”

In a second, you look up from your laptop and up at him. He moves closer, crouches in front of you. His eyes are kind - they’re never not - but you think you see something a little more in them. “Sorry, I think I missed that last part,” you respond, blinking. Minghao smiles like you’re endearing.

“I said I want you to keep looking at me.”

You think you’re barely breathing when he shuts your laptop for you, slides it off of your lap and onto the floor (gently, with care, and it’s a wonder to you how he can focus on that right now). He practically crawls over you, one of his hands eventually reaching the junction of your jaw and neck and holding there. “I’m gonna kiss you now, if that’s okay,” he says, but doesn’t move. You nod as soon as his words reach your brain, eager and quick.

And the next few hours get a little wound up in your head, a little mixed in with the feeling of his body - that moves so youthfully, with so much vibrancy that it reaches everything around you - melting into yours and the sound of him asking you to tell me what you need, honey, and the still-playing slow jam music he was practicing to.

You watch him sleep next to you, hand curled around yours against his pillows, and think that nothing bad could ever touch him.

The two of you… come together, after that.

Neither you nor Minghao use any proper labels, but you both seem to know. No labels are needed, really. You have each other and that’s all there is to it. And everything is really good.

You work together and laugh together like you’ve always known each other. He tries to teach you to dance with him when you’re in the practice room with him, pulls you up by your hands and guides you through your giggles. He was the first person you called when you realized that you had no idea what you were working towards, didn’t have a clue what you actually wanted to do with your life. He gets along well with your friends and you text his because they’re basically yours, now, too.

Winter turns back into spring, slow and easy. Vibrant and youthful. You’re not able to meet Minghao’s parents, but he meets yours (and you’re sure a quick introduction to his mom over a FaceTime call has to count for something). The two of you take advantage of the newfound warmth of the season and try to get out as much as you’re able to, with picnics and city dates and anything you can think of. A drawer in his dresser is reserved for your things, you bought an extra toothbrush for him to use when he stays over.

You watch him dance. It still feels like the first time, like color and breathlessness. You tell him he’s beautiful every time, feel yourself fall a little deeper when he still gets bashful amidst his comedown. You tell him you love him for the first time after he gets done with a performance - a proper one, for a showcase of the dance club he’s in. He says it back.

You think he put all the stars in the sky just for the two of you to gaze at them together.

Things shift the beginning of your junior year.

Minghao tells you about a program he’s applying to, a proper dance academy in New York that could really kickstart his career. Training under some of the best choreographers and performers in the world.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask him after he tells you, and he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. You’re studying at his apartment tonight.

“It’s just…” he frowns. “It’s so far away, you know?”

Oh. You hadn’t even thought about that, too caught up in the excitement of him being able to apply at all. A quick sigh leaves your lips, and then you reach for his hand, hold it between both of your own.

“That’s okay,” you tell him, though now that you’re thinking about it, you feel nervousness in the pit of your stomach. “We can work something out, though, when we get that far. We’ll figure it out.”

Minghao nods, a fond look in his eyes. He pulls one of your hands to his lips. “We’ll think about it if I even get accepted,” he says.

It’s bittersweet, but a promise nonetheless.

Fifteen minutes after you get a call from Minghao, there’s a knock on your door.

You wouldn’t necessarily say you’re worried, but, well. Everyone’s experienced the jump of anxiety when they get hit with the “I want to talk to you about something” line. Nonetheless, you stand from the couch to open the door, mentally preparing yourself for any and everything.

“Hey,” you greet when you see Minghao, opening the door to let him in. His face is unreadable. “Everything okay?”

He walks a few steps into your apartment, waits for you to close the door before turning back around to face you. Then he holds up a piece of paper, the creases from where it was folded still bending. You send him a confused look.

“I got in,” he says, a grin breaking on his face, and you blink, then feel your jaw practically hit the floor. Minghao only nods like he understands, and before you know what you’re doing, you launch yourself at him, holding him close.

“Oh my god, Hao, that’s amazing,” you say into his sweater, then step back to get a proper look at him. Youthful, vibrant. “I’m so proud of you.”

He seems to soften at your words, pulls you back into him again with a gentle kiss to your head. “Thank you for believing in me,” he tells you, tenderness palpable in his voice. All you can do is squeeze him tighter.

Minghao spends a lot of time away from you after that.

You’re not really hurt in any way - even though he got into the academy in New York, he still has to practice. You get it, this is important. He doesn’t text you as often, isn’t able to stop by as much, and you miss him, but you know how much this means for him. But it gets… weird, almost, after a while. Strange, even for him. It feels weird that he’s set to leave at the end of January and it’s December and he’s distant.

Both of you are laying in your bed, looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, when you decide to bring it up. “You’ve been… kinda far away lately,” you start, nudging him with your shoulder gently. “Everything okay?”

His eyes stay on your ceiling, but you feel the way he sighs. “It’s about the program,” he says.

“Okay.”

“And about… you and me.”

Oh. That doesn’t… sound the best. “About, like… what we’re gonna do?”

Minghao nods.

You say, “I wouldn’t mind visiting every so often. It’d be hard, but I’m sure we could find something to work.”

Minghao shakes his head, says, “no.”

You pause, and when you look at him he’s already looking at you. What does he mean by no? Does he want you to move with him? Or does he -

He reaches for your hand and you think oh.

His eyes are a little glassy. You feel the tears come, too.

“Oh,” you say out loud. Minghao squeezes your hand. “So this is… this is it?”

Your room is suddenly cold, and you want to crawl under the covers and stay there. The person in front of you is blurred into something unrecognizable, but you can’t be bothered to blink away your tears.

“I think so, love,” he whispers back to you. “I think it has to be.”

The two of you cry like that for a while. In your bed, loosely intertwined and broken. Even the way Minghao cries carries a kind of vibrancy that’s overwhelming, makes you think of the first time you saw him so long ago, and now -

When you manage to get a better grip on yourself, you ask him if you can still see him off at the airport. He says, “I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.”

Then you ask if you can kiss him again. He responds by kissing you first.

And it’s sad, it tastes like salt and sorrow and you feel like the promises you never got the chance to make are broken. It feels like the most beautiful blue you’ve ever seen, and you know it’s only a branch of Minghao’s color.

He leaves soon after that, pulls on his shoes and his coat and turns around at the door to give you a tired smile. After he’s gone, you drag yourself to Chan’s bedroom, and once he sees the state you’re in, he offers up one side of his bed. Neither of you say anything, but the friendly reassurance of his hand in yours says enough.

You don’t fail to notice that everything seems to be washed out, a blandness you’re not used to.

The last time you see him is at the airport.

It’s a cold day, despite being sunny. The airport offers little warmth, but you figure it doesn’t matter. You won’t be here for long.

It doesn’t take you very long to find Minghao - you still look for him wherever you go, even if you’re not looking for him. Even then, it’s still so easy for you to find him, to pinpoint that vibrancy, that youth. He’s talking to a few others, you think you met them. Soonyoung and Jun.

Minghao meets your eyes and you freeze, but then he waves you over with a gentle smile. You follow like you think you always will.

You greet Soonyoung and Jun and the four of you talk, albeit a little awkwardly, even when Soonyoung tries his hardest to lighten the mood. Eventually he has to leave, and Jun follows with a shy goodbye. They both hug Minghao before they go.

You’re not sure what to say, but after a minute, you find words. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” you tell him, a little selfishly.

Minghao says, “you’ll do good. I know you will. I’m not worried about you.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time, and you think he’ll give you a stiff and sad goodbye, but he steps a little closer to you. Looks at you the way he used to.

“Maybe…” he starts, then pauses. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

Maybe, you think. Maybe.

“I hope so,” you tell him, then watch as he leaves.

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the-quiet-winds · 5 years

Text

Between Angels and Demons (part two)

[Part two of this AU by me and @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts. TW for mentions / discussions of abuse and panic attacks]

[part one]

[Part 2: Till the Stars Lost the War]

The next morning starts similarly, with first hour entering in slow herds as the first bell threatened to ring, with Katherine Howard sprinting in with seconds to spare, landing in her chair, panting and red from running.

Jane doesn’t say anything about Katherine’s sudden appearance, not wanting to draw any more attention to the girl. Instead she just starts the lesson.

“We’ll be working on some context for our first book project this week,” she announces. “Remember, on Monday we’ll be starting reading it in class, so please bring in your copies of the text.”

Even through her heated state, Katherine pales quite a bit. Jane notices this, how could she not, and slips a post-it note on the back of Katherine’s handout.

“If there’s anything we need to discuss,” it says in neat, scripted writing that, it Katherine was being honest, she could read all day, “you’re welcome to join me at lunch again.”

Katherine doesn’t show much sign that she’s read the note, but sure enough, at lunchtime Katherine hovers in the doorway of the classroom, again with an apple clasped in her hands. Jane sends her a kind smile.

“Ah, hello, Katherine. come in.”

Katherine takes a few hesitant steps forwards and Jane indicates the chair opposite her desk.

“Feel free to take a seat.”

Katherine does so after a brief pause. Jane gives her another gentle smile.

“Is there something you wanted to talk about, Katherine?”

The girl shifts somewhat uncomfortably. “It’s...it’s about the books, that’s all.”

Jane gives a tight smile - she knew the conversation from the first day wasn’t over. “What about them?”

“I don’t know if I'll be able to get them,” Katherine says quietly, not making eye contact with Jane. “Do you know where I could get a second-hand copy?”

“If it’s a financial issue,” Jane states softly, “then the school can help you out.” Katherine looks up and smiles a bit. “I'll just call your house later-“

“No!” Katherine immediately protests. she coughs and lowers her voice. “I mean no thank you, I'll...I'll figure it out, Miss Seymour.”

Jane isn’t convinced, and a plan is already forming in her head; she’s sure she could find a spare copy before Monday, and she could bring it in just in case Katherine hadn’t been able to get one. She doesn’t push the issue, though, and instead she changed the subject.

“I take it you like apples, Katherine?”

“What?” Katherine says, confused, then suddenly nods. “Oh, yeah. apples.” She flushes slightly pink.

Jane smiles at the faint blush that rises in Katherine’s cheeks. She then leans over to her own lunch bag and pulls out another apple, offering it to Katherine. “Would you like it?”

“Oh no, Miss Seymour,” Katherine immediately protests, “I don’t want to take anything from you.”

Jane gives another soft smile. “I accidentally grabbed two this morning,” Jane lies, but she sees that the apples seem to be the only thing Katherine eats, “if you’d like it…,” she trails off and sets it equidistant between them on her desk.

Katherine glances between Jane and the apple, a clear struggle going on in her mind. Jane isn’t sure what makes the girl choose this decision, but finally Katherine reaches out and picks up the apple.

“Thank you, Miss Seymour,” she says quietly, fidgeting slightly. Jane smiles.

“It’s no trouble, Katherine. You’re welcome to stay to eat, but if you wanted to go and spend some time with your friends instead then you’re more than welcome to do that too. It’s up to you.”

Katherine blushes again, deeply and darker than Jane had seen yet. “I don’t have a lot of friends,” Katherine admits quietly. She hides herself behind another bite of apple, thoroughly embarrassed at admitting that to a teacher. “I hang out by myself a lot,” she continues, wondering why she was still talking.

“Well, if you’re ever bored at lunch time, I've been meaning to put up some new displays in this room,” Jane smiles gently. “I'd appreciate any help.” Jane hadn’t really been planning on redecorating the classroom, but something about the girl’s skittish demeanor and the way she talked about not having many friends had Jane concerned. Was there a bully, perhaps? It would explain why Katherine wasn’t buying any lunch; if there was a financial issue she would be entitled to free lunches, so that wouldn’t stop her. No, it was likely another person who was.

Katherine looks down at her desk, but Jane can see that increasingly familiar blush rising in her cheeks and the way her lips twitch into a half-smile, just for a flicker of a second. But then it changes, her features pull into a neutral mask, a perfectly placed facade so similar to the one she remembers the narrator describing in 'The Glass Castle'...

Jane's eyes narrow of their own accord - something was definitely amiss in this equation.

Jane keeps up her subtle observation of the girl as the conversation turns to the weekend, trying to figure out if there was something wrong - as her teacher, Jane had a responsibility to make sure she was alright, after all.

“I'm really grateful for the weekend,” she shares, “it gives me the perfect time to catch up on all the marking I have to do.” She offers a friendly smile. “What do kids do on the weekend these days?”

“Homework, mostly,” Katherine shrugs, suddenly very interested in her apple. “Or studying for tests. That kind of thing.”

Jane gives a slight frown at this - the girl seemed to already work so hard, and she doesn’t even take a break on the weekends. Even Jane herself can’t hold that standard, and didn’t when she was a student.

“Katherine?” Jane asks gently, trying to get the girl’s attention without startling her. When the girl lets out a noncommittal hum, Jane continues, “I do hope you take some time this weekend to unwind. I know how stressful the first week is. Perhaps a trip to the library? Or a bit of time watching some TV?”

Katherine flushes pink again. “Oh, I don’t have a TV,” she says, although it doesn’t quite seem like the full truth. “Besides, I've got to study hard if I want to get into a good university, right?” She gives an uncomfortable little shrug, and Jane’s frown doesn’t ease.

“Even so, it’s best to take some time to rest. I wouldn’t want my star student to overwork herself.” The comment comes out without Jane really realising, but Katherine seems to sit up slightly straighter with pride at it.

Jane sees the warmth blossom in Katherine’s face - a genuine, albeit shy, smile and a hopeful, youthful light behind her eyes.

“Do you really mean that?” Katherine asks, and her voice sounds so young and small and Jane feels a rush of... well she didn’t quite know what, but she smiles softly regardless.

“Yes, Kat,” Jane says, the nickname forming unconsciously, and Jane doesn’t even notice, “your writing, your attentive attitude… plus who would forego a lunch period with friends just to sit with their old teacher? I love having kids like you in my class, especially you.”

Katherine takes a moment to process the information, then she smiles again, that same small yet genuine smile.

“Thank you, Miss Seymour,” she says.

It was usual for people to be happy about being praised, but the way Katherine had reacted was as if nobody had ever said anything positive about her before, and despite Jane’s endearment at Katherine’s joy, she finds a sense of worry running through her regardless.

Jane tries to push her worry aside and give Katherine a smile, as gentle and soft as she can make it, and the girl seems to respond with a small one in turn.

---

Monday morning that worry returns. Katherine flies into the classroom, as usual, mere seconds before the bell, panting and red from running, but Jane notices something particularly worrying.

As much as Katherine tries to hide it, Jane can fairly clearly see a purple bruise in the space above her ear, covered by hair as it was.

Jane is instantly on high alert. A bruise like that would be worrying enough, but a bruise combined with the skittish behaviour, the fact she barely eats and the lateness to class make Jane’s mind instantly jump to the worst. she had to be careful, though; the school had very strict policies with dealing with a potential abuse situation, and she had to stick to the safeguarding guidelines. One of the first things she had to do (and Jane hopes she was already on her way to doing it) was to create a safe environment for Katherine, somewhere where she might be comfortable confiding in Jane if there was a problem.

Katherine doesn’t look up the entire time Jane introduces the lesson, even when Jane crosses her desk to ask if she had the book.

She simply shakes her head.

Jane has tucked a note in the cover of the copy of ‘Macbeth’ she had picked up second-hand for Katherine, which she needs to subtly give her.

“Well what’s this?” Jane asks quietly, bending down as if picking the book off the floor.

Katherine doesn’t really react, and Jane gives her the credit for having the book.

Katherine sees the note peeking out and decides to read it - it can’t hurt worse than what happened this weekend, she decides.

“I hope you are alright,” the note says, in Jane’s neat print. “You can talk to me about anything, Kat.” After the last word there’s a tiny ink blot, looking like an extra few scratches of pen on paper, but her imagination sees a heart, just for a moment.

Katherine stares down at the note, not really listening to her classmate reading out the first part of the book as her mind whirs with thought. Part of her wants nothing more than to tell Jane, but there was no promise that she wouldn’t react like any other adult she’d tried to tell. Her hands shake slightly as she clutches the note, so much so that she accidentally tears part of it.

Jane’s heart aches as she watches Katherine shake and tremble through the class period. By the time class is over, the kind note Jane had written is in shreds and Katherine is a sickly whitish-green.

As soon as the bell rings, she runs out as calmly as possible, and it hurts Jane. Why, she wasn’t quite sure. It was as if Katherine had found a tiny space and and welcomed herself into Jane’s heart.

When lunch comes, Jane holds out a shriveled hope that Katherine will return and see her. But ten minutes in, there’s no Katherine.

Fifteen minutes in, however, she hears soft footsteps and looks up.

Katherine is standing in the doorway, trembling, cheeks tear-stained and red.

She stands and doesn’t say anything, the only movement being rapid breathing and shaking shoulders.

“Katherine...” Jane says softly, trying not to scare her away. “Katherine, are you okay?”

Katherine stays stock-still for several more moments before she gives the tiniest head shake and a fresh wave of tears pour down her face. Jane reaches out and almost wraps the girl in a hug before she remembers that Katherine might not like a near-stranger hugging her. Instead she puts her hands on Katherine’s shoulders and steers her gently into the classroom, leading her over to a chair and sitting her down. She takes a box of tissues from the drawer in her desk and hands a few to Katherine who clutches them tightly in her hands.

Katherine hates herself for sitting there, for accepting the tissues, for letting herself be so vulnerable in front of a teacher who probably wouldn’t react any differently than other adult in her life.

But something in her longs for someone like Jane, a kind woman who may, just maybe, help.

Jane crouches down next to her chair, laying a very gentle hand on Katherine’s forearm and looking up at her tear-stained face.

“What’s going on, Katherine?” she asks quietly. “If you want to tell me, love, I promise I'll help the best I can.”

Katherine sniffles, trying to keep herself together long enough to get her words out.

“I, um...” She wipes her face with the back of her hand before remembering she was holding a tissue. “I just... didn’t have a very good weekend.”

She doesn’t know how to start to explain everything that happened, doesn’t know if Jane will listen for long enough, but Jane doesn’t dismiss her straight away. Instead she speaks, very softly.

“Would you like to talk about it, Katherine?”

Katherine shakes her head - talking about it makes it real. Talking about it makes it her fault. Talking about it means it’s going to continue to happen.

Jane sees the fear gathering in Katherine’s eyes, heavy and cold. “I won’t push you,” she says reassuringly, “But if you want to talk, I'll always be right here.”

Jane looks over to one of the shelves on the side of the room, where a stack of notebook paper and a cup of pens sat. Jane stands up and slowly crosses the room, making sure Katherine can see she isn’t abandoning her.

She sets a sheet of paper and a pen gently down in front of her. “Or you can write about it,” she offers in that same gentle tone. “I won’t share it with anyone, Katherine. Or you can simply put it in the shredder if you’d rather.” Jane dips her head to catch Katherine’s teary eyes. “Anything that would help you feel better, I'll help you with, love.”

Katherine doesn’t say anything, but she suddenly picks up the pen. Jane watches as she slowly brings the pen to the paper and starts to write. Her writing is shaky and messy, a far cry from the normally neat writing Jane had seen in the book review and worksheets Katherine had handed in.

Her writing gets faster and faster and the tears start dripping down her face again, leaving tear stains on the paper. Jane doesn’t dare speak, not when Katherine seems to finally be letting everything out.

Jane watches, nearly hypnotized, as Katherine flies through the paper. She doesn’t hesitate to give her another few sheets, and Katherine doesn’t even look up before starting a second page.

Jane sits behind her desk and watches.

Finally, with a few minutes left in the lunch period, Katherine sets the pen down, a broken sob cracking out of her throat and taking Jane by surprise. She hesitantly approaches her student.

“I'm proud of you, Katherine,” she says softly, kneeling down beside her. Her words are warm, Katherine finds, a gentle and nearly maternal cadence that makes some part of her feel safe. “I can imagine that was hard.”

Katherine stands up on shaky legs to follow Jane. She looks her teacher in the eyes for several long moments before lunging forward, craving the warmth she hoped would come from a hug, burying her face in Jane’s shoulder as tears begin to fall again.

Jane is startled at the sudden movement, but when she realises what’s happening she hugs Katherine back, letting Katherine sob into her cardigan shoulder.

“I'm so proud of you,” she says again, voice as soft as she can make it. “You’re such a brave girl.”

Katherine keeps sobbing, past the point of caring that her teacher is witnessing her break down like this.

“Such a brave girl,” she murmurs again. Katherine doesn’t feel brave, not at all, she feels weak. Needy. A burden. All the things her father always tell her she is...before he starts to-

Jane gasps as Katherine starts to tremble, dropping to the floor. Her eyes are blown wide, yet unseeing, and Jane knows immediately that she’s having some sort of panic attack.

Jane crouches down next to Katherine, directly in her eye line.

“Katherine?” She asks, voice quiet but clear. “Katherine, can you hear me?”

There’s no response, Katherine’s brain too overwhelmed by the situation to focus on anything. She does vaguely have the sense of a kind voice talking to her.

Both of Katherine’s hands are flat on the floor in front of her as she tries to calm down, but she just can’t.

Jane, in a move braver than she thought possible, reaches out and brushes her fingertips across Katherine’s wrist, then down to cover her hand very lightly.

The soothing, almost maternal touch filters it’s way into Katherine’s mind, and she takes a shuddering breath, a painful sounding wheeze caught in her chest.

“Katherine,” Jane tries again. “can you focus on my voice?”

The words reach Katherine this time and she desperately tries to cling to them, tries to put all her energy into listening to her teacher instead of falling into panic.

Jane sees something shift in Katherine’s posture as her head quirks to the side slightly to listen. “it’s just me, Katherine. it’s Miss Seymour.” Jane can tell Katherine is listening, searching for words to hold onto, so she keeps talking. “It’s Miss Seymour, your English teacher. yeah? we’re reading Macbeth, and you said you liked Shakespeare.” She takes Katherine’s hand properly. “if you can hear me, love, squeeze my hand.”

There’s a moment of still, then Katherine gives Jane’s hand the tiniest squeeze. Jane almost lets out a sigh of relief, but instead she pushes on.

“That’s so good, Katherine, well done. I'm going to help you, so you just focus on me, okay?”

Katherine squeezes her hand again, slightly firmer this time.

“You’re doing so well, Katherine,” Jane praises again. “Now, I'm gonna need you to take a deep breath for me, is that okay?”

Katherine reaches into her mind, looking for any hint of calm and unafraid she can find. she clings to Jane’s hand for dear life, then somehow, as if her teacher’s words directly hit her brain and triggered her muscles of their own accord, she took a deep, shuddering breath, eyes flying open and darting around before falling on her teacher, sitting on the floor in front of her.

“M-Miss Seymour?” she croaks out, voice raspy and heavy. She did know who she had been with, but it almost seemed too hazy to be real, that someone actually stayed with her during an attack.

“Yes, Katherine,” Jane says, rubbing gentle circles on the back of Katherine’s hand with her thumb. “I'm here.”

Katherine coughs, chest still tight with anxiety, and Jane keeps her face and voice gentle.

“Another breath, Katherine, you’re doing so well.”

Katherine follows the instructions, taking another inhale and slow exhale, eyes focused on the soft, kind smile Jane was giving her.

“Thank you,” Katherine chokes out. “For staying with me.”

Jane holds her soft smile and squeezes her hand. “Of course, love,” she murmurs. “I wouldn’t abandon a student,” she sees Katherine’s face fall slightly, so she smiles just a little brighter. “Especially my star student.”

Katherine gives a shaky smile and wipes at her eyes with her free hand. “No one has ever stayed with me,” she mumbles.

“Has this happened before, Katherine?” Jane asks softly. Katherine stiffens, so Jane rubs a few more soft circles and looks at her sympathetically. “You can talk to me about it, Katherine, because I deal with it too, sometimes.”

Katherine looks up at her, surprise in her expression. “Really?”

“Really,” Jane nods. “So there’s not going to be any judgement from me.”

Katherine looks back down at her hands, seemingly thinking everything through.

“This happens sometimes,” Katherine says quietly. “but this is the first time it’s happened in front of a teacher.” Her cheeks tinge pink as she speaks and her offers an awkward half-smile, although no humour reaches her eyes.

“Well,” Jane offers, trying to catch Katherine’s eyes, “I'm glad I was able to help you through it.” she lowers her voice a hair, giving Katherine’s hand another gentle squeeze. “And I'm so proud of you for being so open, I know this couldn’t have been easy for you to do.”

She can tell Katherine doesn’t believe her words, doesn’t know how proud Jane really is. So she changes the subject. “What do you have next period?”

“Gym,” Katherine says with a slightly shuddering laugh.

Jane smiles back at her. “Would you like me to write your teacher a note, so you can stay in this classroom next period?”

“Would that be okay?” Katherine asks, voice suddenly shy, and Jane gives her a reassuring smile.

“Of course. I always think it’s better to take some time after something like this.”

“You won’t say why, will you?” Katherine asks suddenly, eyes wide with panic.

“Of course not,” Jane reassures. “I'll tell your teacher- who do you have for gym?”

“Miss Lyons,” Katherine says, and Jane takes a piece of paper from her desk.

“I'll tell Miss Lyons that you aren’t feeling well.”

Jane can see the fear begin to melt out of Katherine’s eyes, and it warms her heart.

“Thank you, Miss Seymour,” Katherine whispers as she makes her way to her feet, knees trembling and heart incredibly conflicted. She’s thankful, she is, for having Miss Seymour to help her through, and God would it be so easy to tell her everything, the whole story, let her help.

But she can’t, she can’t tell Miss Seymour.

She looks back to her teacher, that same patient, gentle, caring smile on her face, and Katherine’s resolve feels suddenly very soft.

She lunges forward again, holding her teacher as if she might get pulled away at any time. “Thank you,” she mumbles into her shoulder.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Jane says gently. She lets Katherine cling to her for a few moments until the girl pulls back, the tiniest of genuine smiles on her face.

“Let me just run this letter to Miss Lyons,” Jane says, scribbling down a quick note. “I'll be right back.” Jane gives her one more kind smile before disappearing out of the door.

Katherine sits down on a chair next to the desk as she finally manages to think through everything that happened. Her gaze lands on the several pages of messy handwriting she’d scrawled earlier.

She stares at it for several long moments. The whole story, right there. Katherine snatches the papers off the desk and holds them tightly. Before she knows what she’s doing, she opens a drawer in Jane’s desk and shoved the papers, messily folded, into Jane’s purse.

It’s not fair, she knows, to put this on Jane. but she needs it. Jane is the only adult who’d ever stood by her. And maybe, just maybe, she’d continue to stand by Katherine.

She’s still hovering near her desk when Jane enters again, looking at her with a sympathetic expression.

Without a word, Jane crosses the room and pulls that same jar out of her drawer just as the bell rang.

“Take a sweet, love,” she murmurs, “and go make yourself comfortable at a desk in the back.”

Katherine settles herself at the back of the room as Jane’s next class, the final year English students, slowly file in. If they thought the presence of a younger student in the room was strange, nobody comments on it.

Jane teaches the lesson as normal, glancing at Katherine every so often to check in on her. The girl is engrossed in whatever she’s writing; Jane assumes it’s homework, but whatever it is Katherine’s hand is flying across the page.

When the bell rang to end class, the students filed out, eagerly ready to leave, but Jane knew Katherine still had another class.

But she hasn’t budged.

“Katherine?” she calls softly. “are you feeling better, love?”

The girl nods, though she continues writing furiously.

“I don’t want to make you have to leave, but I think you should go to your last class.”

Katherine sets her pen down and stands up, gathering the sheets and her backpack, shyly looking to Jane.

“You’re welcome to come back after your last class, if you wish to finish.” Jane’s subtle ulterior message was, ‘if you don’t want to go home,’ and she wonders if Katherine catches it.

Katherine, however, shakes her head violently. “I should go home after school,” she says quickly. Then she takes a breath, “but thank you for everything, Miss Seymour.” She tucks hair behind her ear, looking down at her shoes. a shy blush rises in her cheeks.

Jane gives her a soft smile. “It’s okay, Katherine. And know that I'd do it again in a heartbeat.”

Katherine gives her a small yet genuine smile, and when she leaves she offers Jane a tiny wave, which Jane returns.

When Jane’s final class of the day finishes she packs up the papers she was taking home to mark, then heads out to her car in the staff parking area. She reaches into her purse to grab her keys, but at the top of her bag she feels a bunch of paper that definitely hadn’t been in there earlier.

She pulls out several sheets of notebook paper, slightly crumpled, but written in a very familiar blue handwriting.

This was Katherine’s essay, the narrative she’d written just before having her breakdown.

Curiosity immediately crawls through Jane, and she begins to read.

Her eyes fill with tears quickly, the papers outlining the passing of her mother when Katherine was only five, of horrid things her father said, and even worse things her father did.

She’s unable to function for several minutes after finishing it, sympathy and heartache for Katherine swirling in her system.

Jane makes a vow, right then and there, that she would keep Katherine safe. To make sure she knows that nothing her father said was true. That she had so much worth.

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tag list: @percabeth15 @kats-seymour @qualquercoisa945 @jane-fucking-seymour @a-slightly-cracked-egg @justqueentingz @annabanana2401 @wolfies-chew-toy @broad-way-13 @tvandmusicals @lailaliquorice @aimieallenatkinson @sweet-child-why03 @gaylinda-of-the-upper-uplands @funky-lesbians @thinkaboutitmaybe @hansholbeingoesaroundzeworld @messanaa @beeskneeshuh @prick-up-ur-ears @theartoflazy @justqueentwo @brother-orion @paleshadowofadragon @lafemmestars @beautifulashes17 @jarneiarichardnxel @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @ladiez-in-waiting @mixer1323 @boleynssixthfinger @aimieallen @elphiesdance @boleynthebunny @krystalhuntress @lupin-loves-chocolate @bellacardoza16 @bluify @katherines-choker

#six the musical #six musical #jane seymour #katherine howard #julie and jess write #between angels and demons #the world was on fire and no one could save me but you

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roberttheglitcherino · 5 years

Text

ce@galacticxangel

Okay so you got me to really wanting to dump my headcanon ideas about Conductor and DJ Grooves so I’ll just speak them here under readmore

Basically, my rough idea of their personality sort of comes from little clues from interactions and background elements. We know both of them have been competing for the awards for many long years, so they have plenty of reason to be irritated at each other, starting from when they ended up buying the same building and are pretty forced to work around each other while competing against each other. Conductor’s films, despite being vanity projects and using the same rough idea, manage to beat out DJ Grooves’ films, which seem to be more like feel-good films all about flash and pomp and would appear to do well on release, but die out after a while enough to harm his odds by the time the award ceremony kicks while Conductors’ films presumably stay strong through the season. Yet when Award 42 came around, DJ Grooves ended up winning, the exact reasons are sort of vague, but judging by the newspaper clippings just outside of the weird award room, my idea is that because of Conductor taking time to mock someone missing his train, he ended up being late for the award ceremony, which resulted in his streak being lost and then physically fighting DJ Grooves. Afterword, Conductor got back to his streak, but presumably the competitive spirit only sparked further. Now, this sort of leads to the idea that DJ Grooves, after winning, got way overconfident, possibly thinking he only lost the previous awards due to Conductor doing something shady behind the scenes, which only strengthened further as he kept losing years after winning, and if you help him win, cement into a firm belief that Conductor has been cheating for years. However Conductor outwardly claims to never have broken laws in his life if you talk to him during Mustache Girl’s reboot of the planet, and in fairness, he only gets you to work with him because DJ Grooves was intending to bend the rules by getting you to help him win despite not legally being a bird, wanting you to join him to get even with DJ Grooves and make it harder for him to beat him again. This kinda leads me to believe that Conductor was telling some lengths of the truth, yes he still did cheat by getting you to work for him like DJ did, but only because otherwise it would be unfair, perhaps taking offense to the idea of having to compete with someone bending the rules and would prefer to fight on equal footing, which makes me think that DJ, after losing so much, that one win made him feel so confident in that it couldn’t be because of his films is why he lost, and puts the blame on the Conductor somehow cheating to win. He even says he can’t prove that Conductor is lying but says that he feels like he knows he’s been cheating for years, and at that point DJ was so far gone in his own ego thanks to the win that he couldn’t see that he might be getting irrational, all he thinks is that Conductor has been cheating to win every trophy except 1 and with the time pieces, fully intends to go back and reclaim what he feels like were his all along. Basically, my idea is that Award 42 changed the both of them into how they act now, Conductor took the loss very negatively and developed a perfectionist mentality, getting angry at just about anything and everything and wanting to not lose again, perhaps feeling deep-seeded regret for that one little slip up that resorted in him losing the awards and not wanting to repeat the same mistake again, while DJ’s win seeded in questions that affected him negatively in the long-run, making him believe that in some way, Conductor has been and still is cheating to win the Bird Movie Awards, and while he shows the pomp and hype, he hides how he really feels among his peers, only really showing how he feels to Hat Kid, outright telling her that his penguin crew, despite being loyal to him to a fault, claim them to be “terrible actors” and will freely hire this human-like child, one not even supposed to be in Dead Bird Studios and even get rid of her debt, just to get an edge against the Conductor, who he firmly believes has to have been cheating for years and feels like he’s justified in cheating first. It shines a comparison in their filming styles, Conductor prefering improvised and on-the-spot method acting that feel genuine over DJ’s flashy and feel-good films play more on the first-time emotions for hits. Conductor’s method plays more into long-term or consistent views, as while they’re cliche in theme, they have a certain charm in them, whether it be from the nostalgic setting or the genuine acting, which keeps the viewing consistent, while DJ’s seems to feel like how I feel some films are like: All about the first-impression film, to pump people with hype and ceremony to hide the fact there’s not much sustenance in the film that leave a lasting impression, and tend to be forgotten from much of the public memory after the season’s over, which is probably what DJ Grooves is banking on, using that first strong wind to try and coast the whole season to the end. I sort of imagine that in that regard, DJ Grooves sort of reflects his films, living in the moment and hoping for the best for him, while the Conductor seems to know what he does well and sticks with it, showing a better sign of long-term planning than Grooves does. This whole thing makes me sort of imagine how the Time Piece incident affected them afterword, as apparently no matter what, the result from both is the same regardless of who won, basically my idea is that after the fight, both of them sort of cool down from their heated and competitive spirits and choosing the settle in their own ways, Conductor deciding to book a cruise on the S.S. Literally Can’t Sink, whether it be because he felt like he needed a vacation after DJ Grooves trying to kill Hat Kid and change history or simply just feeling like he needs to step away from the studio to settle down after being beaten, while DJ Grooves stays and does some planning for next-year’s film, granted only because he knows the Conductor is taking the same ship. It gives the idea that after the fight, DJ Grooves sort of realized the flaws of his films, being all show but no sustenance and thinking how to improve for next year and win fair and square, while Conductor eases on the perfectionist mood and unwinds onto simpler plans for his films, the impression of that I got from the movie poster of his in the Nyakuza Metro, which also kinda brings the idea that Conductor’s wins were because he advertised a whole lot and words of his films perhaps has a wider reach than DJ Grooves’, which I am assuming is more focused on areas he knows he’s already very popular. I sort of see DJ Grooves overall to be the sort to basically actively avoid paying mind to his own problems, choosing to pin the reasons for his losses on other reasons, choosing to actively assume Conductor has been cheating without any proof to back his theory, while the Conductor, while vain, knows a lot of his problems but tries to fight back instead of actively hiding from them. Hints of this is sort of implied with the Arctic Cruise where he knows he’s just gonna get drunk as hell, and tries to leave his grandkids somewhere where they won’t mimic his actions. Tellingly, while drunk, he shows a much softer side to him, even calling you a friend and is more welcoming towards you, though if those are his actual feelings or the alcohol muddling his brain is vague, but I like to assume he does feel like he can trust Hat Kid as she does help him despite all the problems he’s caused for her in the studio. I feel like Conductor would be the sort of guy that while tough and strict, he would pay a genuine compliment if something is worth complimenting, basically like a stern-but-fair dad, while DJ Grooves probably just praises if it means it builds hype and makes him look good, like one of those soccer moms. I’m pretty sure there’s more info somewhere in my brain, but I kinda burned out from making this whole thing and writing it from off the top my noggin.

#shenanigans

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