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dropsofletters · 4 years

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break-up season

title: break-up season pairing: ten/reader genre: pizza shop worker!au/strangers to lovers!au summary: break-up season, the time in which a love-hater like ten finally proves to himself that love is a mere stigma of society, rather than a concept. his favorite pastime is to look out of the window of the pizza shop he works at, watching as couples gather for dinner simply to leave as two separate individuals that couldn’t even look each other in the eye. that is changed when he actually sees someone trying to get together with a woman, a love confession so cringe-worthy that he just had to intervene. the only thing he wants is to save this woman from the horrid taste of love, but maybe his views change by the time he gets to know her. type: fluff/romance/humor word count: 14,406 ⚠️ disclaimer: this is part of the love diaries, my valentine’s day project with wayv, if you want to read the rest of the members’ stories, you can click here and find the masterlist for it.

The corner of the pizza shop is his favorite spot out of the entire room. Not too breezy, not too coated with the smell of mozzarella cheese and thick sauces, definitely close enough to the laptop his job asked him to use for costumers so he can do his job as a waiter, but far from the sets of people seated by the tables, most of the time consisting of couples. Under his red cap, Ten brushes the bangs that cloud his vision to study the clients he has—watch as they socialize, fall in love and fall out of it, as well. One would think that Ten likes that corner so much because he seeks for warmth, or he loves the view he gets through the glassed windows, getting to see the jewelry store that is right in front of his vision, as well as the beauty of the mini garden in between the two spots, but there are whole other reasons as to why he is obsessed with it.

In reality, Ten just enjoys the gossip and it became part of him the more he worked at the pizza place. From his peripheral, he can see bad dates and couples breaking up, he can see coworkers that can’t stand each other and friends that are too entranced on their phones to even look at each other. He can connect the dots, create stories and figure out the reason why deep feelings are normally followed by disappointment. If people fear being alone or it is the human mechanism of life to look for the worst matches, he doesn’t know, but he has grown to love storytelling for the past year and so.

Synchronized with the beat in the background, Ten’s fingertips tapped on the counter, diverting his gaze from the window to look around the pizza place. In the background, an upbeat pop song has him humming to himself, studying the couple that sits only a few tables away, and annoying Ten with all the reasons in the world, considering he is supposed to close the pizza place in twenty minutes and they haven’t even gotten halfway through their pizza, their drinks or their laughter. One of them is a guy he actually knows; wearing long black hair and one of those stupid smiles from people who think their jokes are the funniest ever told in the world. He’ll give it to Kunhang, he’s pretty funny when he tries to be.

Pushing his cap off his head to run his fingers through his hair, he takes another look out of the window, staring at the faint reflection of the lights outside of his workplace, a few people walking around hand in hand. Some people call the beginning of February the love season, but he prefers to call it ‘The Break-Up’ season instead. The amount of relationships broken to get into another one grow exponentially each year, like feelings become vainer with the pass of time…and that is a reality people never really accept. In his mind, he can already read the posts in social media about how unnecessary love is, braggers who say it because the person they like never paid attention to them. The people who are truly closed to the idea of love are realists, though not a lot existed in the world. Either way, Ten is one of them. He knows how fleeting a relationship can be and embarks more in flirtatious gathers instead of getting in the directionless ship that is love.

Past his reflection, showing the sweat that presses on his forehead and the tiredness in his gaze, Ten catches the sight of a couple that don’t seem to be having such a great time, even when the atmosphere is love is practically being pushed to everyone’s faces in that time of the year. The subtle frown on her face is indicator of her discomfort as the guy cradles his head in between his fingers, spewing out whatever cages him inside his brain, the typical ending to a pair of lovers, but by the look on her face…there was more than discomposure in her brain, confusion, too, like an outburst that came unexpected. Ten leans forward slightly, trying to read their lips to the best of his capabilities.

He comes up with nothingness, really, it is not one of his talents to read someone’s lips to perfection, much less when the words are not being repeated to him like a mantra. The weight of the situation falls far from a tale to talk about when he wants to prove love is not real when Ten’s eyes make out the figure of the man’s jaw clenching, mouth spitting words quickly, his neck turning a deep shade of red, the veins around the skin marking down uncomfortably. His mind runs a few miles per minute, weighting the possibilities of actually getting in the middle of a relationship and earning a few shouts from the man for him to keep, but he couldn’t care less.

Today, Ten curses the name of romance again, opting to believe in something stronger—helpfulness.

Today, Ten takes his sketchbook out of his backpack, one that he doesn’t even use that often anymore with how packed work has been for him, and he scribbles down a few words with his thickest black marker, pressing the sketchbook to the window and knocking on the surface loud enough for the couple in front of him to listen to him. His knuckles touch the window repeatedly, taking a few tries to have the woman’s date to shut his mouth when her gaze turned to the pizza shop, squinting at the letters written in the piece of paper. Call it being nosy, or perhaps something deep within him tells him that he has to get that woman out of that situation before anything goes out of hand, but his fingers point at the piece of paper like his life depends on it.

Her otherwise angered expression turned to confusion again, her eyes scanning the words like her life depended on understanding the message. Your pizza is ready, it read, and damn him and his excuses…because she had not even entered the place, let alone asked for anything over the phone—there was no way he would know in this case, either—, but it was the best he had managed to think about in such a quickened moment of pressure. The stranger in question nods her head, pushing her purse higher up her shoulders, the golden chain dipping on her skin thanks to her short sleeved shirt, but the worst bruise would harm her ego, watching from afar as the woman’s date wrapped his hand around her wrist, trying to bring him back to him, like the devil asking an angel to be dragged down to the pits of hell. Instead, she elbowed his side, getting away from his grasp just in time for Ten to read the most important words of the conversation the two lovers had.

“Don’t call me again.”

When he was a mere child, he had wanted to be a superhero and maybe, this was his superpower. To battle the wronged, toxic, twisted romance that the world was selling nowadays, sold to softened and easily loving individuals like fresh bread straight out of the oven.

The sound of the bell atop the door ringing is what he hears first, catching a glance of the man outside who simply rolls his eyes before turning on the heels of his extremely shiny boots before going away. To hell, really, that was exactly what he deserved. By the door, he sees how she inspected the world, a firm frown resting upon her features, home of all the despair, the entirety of her anger, the tail of the snake that lived inside her head, wanting to scream at the world for giving her such a bad date. Then, she lifts her face, chin tipped high when she stops leaning against the door to look at the waiter and Ten can only manage to give a faint smile, closing the sketchbook with his fingers before pressing the surface to his chest.

“I didn’t order anything.” She breathes the words out and maybe, it is too soon for Ten to figure out that the sound of her voice is calming. Something about the way she speaks is admirable, like all the clouds in the world had filled her vocal chords, giving it that sense of softness. A weighted blanket would be the best way to describe it, warm and tranquil, perfect to complete a night.

“I know.” Ten says, reaching for his cap and putting it over his head again, trying to cover up his messy hair. Now that he notices, the guy outside does not deserve someone like her—far too pretty with her mascara-coated eyelashes, her eyes that glisten under the most miniscule of lights, holders of speckles of sugar in their sweetened glare. “I just…I thought that guy was bothering you.”

Leaning forward on the counter, she bites down on her bottom lip, playing with her own nails as she speaks. “Was it that obvious?”

Nodding his head, he pushes his body back on the wall behind him, crossing one leg over the other as he spends the last few minutes at the pizza shop talking to a complete stranger. “It was.” He breathes out, the warm air of the shop kissing his skin. “I am just a stranger and you probably will think I am getting into your business…but was that your boyfriend?”

Sliding her purse off her shoulder, the chain clinking against the counter obnoxiously as she looks for something inside, he receives an answer soon after, mixed with a chuckle of her own. “God, no, no. I thought—That was our first date.”

As he watches her fingers take out some money, her eyes staring at the chalkboard behind him with the prices and the specialties, all the color is drained from his face. Now, he has heard of bad first dates, but with the argument that guy had just created…he would have thought they had known each other a bit more. Some people are just crazy, and that is the first reason why serious dating sounds so atrocious to him. “What do you mean first date?”

“It was supposed to be in here, you know.” She starts, pushing the money forward before pointing at the chalkboard. “Can I have some Sicilian Pizza, please? For takeout.”

“Sure.” Even though they are supposed to be closing soon, Ten doesn’t mind giving this poor soul what she is paying for. Taking the money and writing down the order on a piece of paper, he touches the bell that calls out for the chef, watching Randy’s tired expression when he pushes the piece of a paper towards him. Sooner than later, the chef is cussing inside the kitchen, too far away from him to even listen. “So,” Resting the weight of his head on his hand, he watches her expression as she talks to him. “Your date hadn’t even started and he was already making a scene.”

Shrugging her shoulders, she pushes out a gush of breath from her parted lips. “He was saying some bullshit about how I am a woman of respect and how I should cover up more skin, because if I plan to date him…I just had to look decent.”

Looking at her outfit, Ten simply scoffs at the mindset of such a close-minded man. The pink tank top barely shows a glimpse of her chest and if it did show more, it would be entirely her issue. High waisted pants wrapped around her body snugly, pairing it up with her small handbag and her sneakers. “You’re probably not asking for my opinion, but you look great. Don’t pay attention to guys like that.”

Smiling, he watches as she presses her pink lipstick coated lips together. The magic of her comes from how enchanting she seems to be; not like a princess of sorts, but definitely like someone who holds conversations nicely, being sweet from the moment someone approaches her. “Thank you for saving me, by the way.”

“It’s what I had to do.” The black haired man says.

“No, most people wouldn’t have done anything.” She pushes, her argument becoming valid with the ignorance of the actual world. People are so obsessed with love they confuse it with absolute insanity. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“What you’re saying is enough,” Ten indicates, turning his back to look at the fridge nearby. He asks for her name as he scans the sodas there, watching the different sizes and looking for the coldest one. “Cool. My name is Ten.” Introductions come easily to him. Coming to terms with himself, he really does think that he is the type of person that makes friends everywhere, but holding feelings towards someone comes uneasily for him. Never has he ever been in love, much less does he consider it important. A mere title to cover up hook-ups and heartbreak, that is all love is. “Do you want a Coca Cola? It’s on me.”

“No, no—”

“You don’t like it? I could offer you another brand, let me see…”

“No. I like it, but you don’t have to give me one.” At the sound of those words, Ten takes out the small bottle of soda and puts it in front of her, taking a straw out and placing it just beside the drink. An amused huff leaves her lips, because she has barely known the man for a few minutes, and yet he has acted far nicer than her date had done. “Okay, thank you.”

Rolling his eyes, he continues. “Don’t thank me so much.”

“You’re a godsend.” She replies, twisting the lid off before pushing the straw inside, taking a long sip to bring one of those delightful hums that cold drinks bring after a tiresome day. The muscles in her arms relax, the color returning to her lips after the second sip and in the matter of seconds, she is speaking to him once again. “Ten, I need to ask you a question. I hope you don’t mind.” She starts, looking up for a few seconds before shaking her head. “Are all guys like this? Such assholes, like, I can’t seem to find a good one. Not even my friends can. That guy was a blind date, and it didn’t even start!”

Taking a cloth to wipe the counter with, Ten takes a few moments to think about it. “I mean…love and romance and all those things…they have always been a headache.” He tries to make her feel better, but in reality, Ten doesn’t have much knowledge about what could bring a person to want to date so seriously. Most of his relationships included people he was already friends with, simply taking common attraction and casualties as their starting point and basing it in mutual feeling rather than in love. “Don’t look and you’ll find something. You shouldn’t rush.”

“…I know that, but I had to hear it again.”

“Yeah, just don’t pick any more idiots.”

“Easier said than done.”

The conversation holds for longer, work tangling in their words, talking about the frustrations of life and the longevity of the heat during the week, an anomaly to what the weatherman had indicated on Monday. Talking to her comes in the form of sweet smiles, thankfulness for something that she considers brave, but he claims it is normal. Someone like her speaks about friendships and love so highly that her feelings are out in the world, heart ready to be destroyed if it came to end in the wrong hands, and Ten is the absolute opposite of that. A man that is naturally charming, but rarely thinks of the depth of his connections with people. While she wants an ocean of feelings and to dive in them, Ten is fine with surfing across them, feeling like the king of the world for never being kicked by any of those waves.

Even then, he thinks the simplicity of their conversation will only fall as one encounter and by the time he is closing the pizza shop, his heart feels full. Heavy with pride for doing something great today…saving someone from the asphyxiating grip of hate dressed as love, or what people claim to call ‘romance’ nowadays. Toxicity at its finest.

To Ten, love is an impossibility in this era and nothing could change his mind.

🍕

In the confines of the highly illuminated room, Ten goes from one side to the other, repeatedly bowing to the clients in front of him, taking his notebook and writing down their orders, taking as many as he can in his hands—while also keeping them in order—before giving them to Randy, filling him with more work to do at the kitchen. It is tiresome, if February was difficult, March just exudes that draining energy that leaves Ten in a grumpy mood, more often than not tugging at the uncomfortably tight cap that he has to use with his uniform and swearing the damned red chemise that bruises his eyes with its bright color, warrior of all fashion that existed in the world. If anything, such a busy atmosphere would have filled his body with life if he was the one eating or enjoying the presence of background chatter, but being a waiter in such a situation—and the only one working, too—is quite the displeasure.

Seriously, the pizza place has been doing excellently nowadays and still, his boss acts as if it would be too expensive to hire another worker, either for the kitchen or to attend the costumers. Those who are the wealthiest are the most obsessed with their money.

Pressing the phone to his ear, he is trying to talk to one of the customers that wants to order through the device, but it is far too loud in the pizza place for him to listen. His vocal chords hurt from how loudly he is speaking, cursing the day he decided that working as a waiter in a pizza shop was going to be easy, but that is far from the reality. The sound of a pair of long fingers tapping on the bell makes him look up from his position, staring at the tall man with the chef hat on. Randy was a little bit over his thirties, in love with cooking and the smell of the fresh sauce he made for every pizza, spending time all around the world to prepare the majesties that they serve in Ten’s workplace. “Hey, dude, there are a group of girls that have been waiting there for a while.” Pointing at one of the tables in the pizza place, Ten hangs up on the call—thankful that it ended, really—placing the neat piece of paper on Randy’s hand. “And the Greek one is ready. Table seven.”

“Table seven, okay.” Ten repeats, fixing the hat over his head before huffing. “I am an absolute mess. How difficult is it for the boss to get another person to help us out here?”

The smell of the pizza makes him gag slightly when he picks it up; tired of the cheese, of the thick sauce and the toppings, everything seems to be too much for him. “I don’t know. I could help you out if you need it—”

“No, take care of the pizzas. Thank you, though.” Ten comments in a rushed manner, moving away from the counter and going towards the seventh table, seeing the happy smiles the family give him before he is off to the table Randy had talked about. The third table, if he is not mistaken, closer to the door and with more seats than most. Once in front of his new clients, he opens his small notepad to write their orders down, starting his introduction without really looking at who he is talking to. “Good night, welcome to The Tower of Pizza, is there anything I can serve for you tonight?”

“Ten!” The excitement in a woman’s tone makes him stare away from his notepad, instead settling his gaze on the person that is calling out for him. The same woman that had been there a little bit over a month ago, the one that he had given a free Coca Cola to and the same one whose tastes in men were not equal to her tastes in the delicious Italian treat. This time, she looks even more radiant, hanging around with a group of women—all looking at him by now, interested in why their friend even knows this person in the first place, portraying an easygoing smile and a beautiful floral shirt. “I didn’t expect you to be working today.”

Ten chuckles, taking the time to smile for the first time in the entirety of the day, and it all comes thanks to the slice of sweetness that comes with her greeting. “I work here every day. I’m the only waiter that works here.”

“For real?”

“Yes.” Ten looks up and down her face, realizing that she is far more radiant around her friends, who are stealing glances from Ten to their friend, back again and repeatedly. “I would love to talk for longer, but I have to attend more clients. What do you guys want?”

“Two of your lasagna special and one extra-large pizza. Which one do you recommend today?” After writing down their orders, Ten notices that his tongue is sticking out in concentration, something he does specifically when he is writing and focused in something. Looking over his shoulder, he sees what is written in the chalkboard before humming.

“I think Chicago could work well with you tonight.” Ten comments, deciding to bite back a smile but it is far too impossible for him to do so. It would be a lie of him to say that the sight of her hasn’t brightened his day up, for some reason that still remains unknown for him, but maybe it is the visual of her, the beauty of her smile that lets him know he just has a piece of art to look at while he works.

“Give me one of those. Thank you.” Their fingertips barely touch together when she pushes the menu towards him, skin coming in contact with a brief electrocution state before it fades to blackness. With a bow, Ten is gone, not without sparing one last glance at her to see that she is already looking at him, giving him a tight lipped smile that reads ‘I feel sorry for you, but you can do this’.

Other than that, the night goes in a blur for him, from talking to yet another customer to remembering which pizza went to certain table, to giving out the takeout boxes before anyone complains about his slowness. By the time it is about to close, he realizes there is one person seated in table number three, her purse resting over the surface, hand holding her chin up while she watches the rerun of some old show that plays on the big TV screen of the pizza shop. Ten pushes his cap off, looking at the serenity of her face and feeling a bit more relaxed, even when his chest is rising and falling with each breath and he feels like once he gets home the shower is going to have to welcome him for more than an hour.

Fixing his hair with the tips of his fingers, the man can’t help but walk over to his client, the one that should have left three hours ago just like her friends, but that decided to stay back for some reason. His hands hook around the edge of the seat beside her, dragging it across the floor obnoxiously before sitting down. The look she gives him is peaceful and he simply doesn’t get it. That type of patience and interest can only speak wonders about her and even if she just wants to talk to him or it was something else that kept her there, he thinks it’s enviable. And today, out of all days, Ten is feeling the slightest bit touched that someone would give him both a nice tip and also, stay for him a few minutes after the closing time.

“I thought you would have left with your friends.”

“I wanted to make sure you were fine after all that work you did.” She comments, watching as the apples of Ten’s cheeks lift up in a smile. In all sincerity, Ten has gotten a million gifts, surely a lot of effective nice touches of sympathy that would have warmed his heart back then, but for a complete stranger to do something as kind as that for him is truly unexpected. “I hope it doesn’t seem creepy.”

“A little bit. It matches with my nosiness in that date of yours.” The laughter that leaves her lips is joyful, pushing a few strands away from her face to get a good look at him. His eyes trail over her features, as sweet as her, with this air of innocence that has him thrilled, but instead, he opts to look at the screen that had taken her attention for most of the time she spent at that table alone. “You’re watching How I Met Your Mother?”

While leaning back on her seat, she answers. “I never really got to know how he met the mother. I actually thought the mother was Robin all along.”

“I don’t know who the mother was, either.” The realization downs him, watching the episode running but he is not actually paying much attention to it. “I stopped watching when I realized Barney and Robin wouldn’t end up together.”

“They don’t?!”

“Sorry, did I just spoil it?” Though he smiles, because the honesty in her face is a complete gush of fresh air. “They get a divorce I think, I don’t know. I read it online and stopped watching after that.”

Pushing her lips forward in realization, she lifts her eyebrows in surprise. “Real love doesn’t exist now.”

This is the matter in which Ten specializes the most, a love-hater from the moment he recognized what the meaning of such thing was. Funnily enough, it didn’t take a heartbreak for Ten or falling in love tremendously with someone for him to realize what it means to fall in love. It is a responsibility, to start with, so heavy that it connects two people and falls upon different parts of their lives. Secondly, love is only a conceptualization that a person can individually get to know and someone may never know if the feeling is as strong for the other, or as weak in certain occasions. Sometimes, routine and romance sound exactly the same and damn him for hating it so much. “It doesn’t take a show to realize that.” Bringing his beliefs forward, she turns to look at him.

“You don’t believe in love, do you?” She asks, the conversation becoming seemingly interesting to her.

His fingers play with the cap in between them, touching the fabric as he speaks. “Not really, no.” The smell of her cologne becomes more prominent for him when he folds his body forward to get closer to her, his hands sprawling across the table. “What about you?”

“I believe it exists.”

“Why?”

“Just…look at the amount of people who are married or live together or survive long distance relationships. That takes love.”

Tilting his head to the side, Ten gives his own train of thoughts a chance. “I think of that as compromise, not exactly love.” The tone of his voice is soft, mainly because he knows love is such a subjective feeling for most people and he doesn’t want to ruin it for someone who may just feel it, but in reality, love has died down with the passage of time and now, people have started to love more things rather than other individuals. Passion became the new version of love and he feels far more attached to that part of himself. “Like sure, I can love dancing or going out to the karaoke with my friends, but I am not married to any of those activities. That doesn’t mean I love them less.”

“That’s true—” Her voice is cut off when her phone vibrates and his eyes immediately look down, catching a glimpse of the name of the contact. “It’s this asshole again.” She cusses, pressing the red button on her phone only to sigh. “You know, after this guy…I may think you are right,” She shakes her head, lost in her thoughts of anger and frustration. “He keeps calling me and I don’t know what his issue is. I don’t even know why I want to fall in love when all I get are these half-assed guys that don’t even deserve the title of romance.”

“Sure, love doesn’t exist in my eyes…but that doesn’t mean you don’t get the chance to find a nice guy.” Ten comments, shrugging his shoulders soon after. “I think you just have a radar for finding the wrong ones.”

“How do I know if it’s a good one?”

“…I don’t know. I don’t date to find ‘the one’.” Doing quotations in the air, she smiles at his antics before her phone vibrates once again. The noise is insupportable to her ears, as if the earth is shaking beneath her fingertips in the reminder of the mistakes she made, and Ten is not so fond of the idea of a creep going around and ruining her night after spending such a great time with her friends. His hand reaches forward, asking permission with his gaze to pick it up before she hums, watching as he brings the phone up his ear.

“Why the fuck aren’t you answering?! You didn’t come back to the parking lot after our date and I was waiting for you. Do you think—?”

“Sorry man, wrong number.” Ten announces, the man on the other end being cut off immediately before he huffs out a breath.

“This bitch didn’t even give me her number properly?”

“I guess…” Though, he doesn’t like the tone this guy is speaking in and surely, all he wants to do is hang up right at that moment. Which he gets to do with all the pleasure in the world, anger emanating from his words the moment he mumbles out a quick goodbye and pushes his thumb own on the red button on the screen. Her eyes are wide, gleaming even though the lights in the pizza shop may be the main cause of it all and soon after, she breathes out at the appearance of her grin. “Block that number and never look back. You don’t owe him anything.”

“Thank you.” She stands up from her spot, pushing her purse up her shoulder while holding her phone on the other hand. “I suppose you’re going to have to close down soon.”

“Yeah, I’m going out to eat with Randy, that guy in the kitchen.” Ten chuckles, pressing his hands down on the pockets of his jeans before looking up at her. “But thank you for waiting for me to check up on me. It means a lot.”

“I’d do it again.” She nods her head, almost turning around on her heels but her movements halter to a stop, instead opting to take a good glance of the man in front of her, giving him his phone as embarrassment takes over her features. “I was actually going to ask for your number. You were so nice to me and you still are…so if I ever need someone to talk to, I would like to have you in my contacts.”

“Is that so?” Ten’s voice lowers a bit, fixing his cap over his head before writing down his number, saving his name as ‘Ten’ along with a pizza emoticon by its side, taking the time to take his phone out and jotting her number down as well. There is something about her, past her enchantment and the dulcet personality that he always talks about, but the facility he feels when talking to her, like there is nothing beneath her that could ever be used to judge someone. Her caring nature is the most outstanding, a person of energetic happiness out of all the somberness of the world. “Just text me anytime.”

“I will.” She smiles, waving her hand in the air before getting out of the pizza shop, leaving with the dangle of the bell on the ceiling above the door. Something about that night leaves him with a smile on his face and putting How I Met Your Mother in his list of ‘to watch’ shows. Something twists, changes and perhaps, he should pull away—attraction is what he feels, but for someone who adores love and the thought launches his brain away from her, thinking that their goals are far too different for him to even try flirting. Perhaps, he should really ignore it all and let the start of a simple friendship blossom without any second thoughts partaking on that decision.

🍕

What are you doing now?

The vibration of his phone shouldn’t startle him as he is washing the dishes, soapy hands coming up from the plate in between his hands to hover in the air, eyes staring at the blinking notification on his phone. But it does. The past few weeks have been a reminder that there are so much more than the tedious hours of working in a food place, that there is more to the world than waking up, going to the dance studio to practice a bit, going to the pizza place he works at and returning home so tired he can’t even keep his eyes open. His phone finds solace in the company, texts of questioning coming from his friends and family as they ask how his life is doing and when the next adventure is going to surface for them to share new moments together, but now he has something else to look forward to. A conversation that is far more interesting in the twists and turns that come from it, the initiation a mere greeting and then, it was an endless chat in the hopes of getting to know each other.

He promises himself that he’ll finish washing that one last plate before going over to his phone, but the smile is already settling on his face at the reminder of his new friend on the other end, taking time away from her tedious hours of studying to respond to his texts. The last one they shared was during his lunchbreak, and she only got to answer now, following her dream with so much strength that one would think she’d break her head in the process. However, considering that she is probably taking a break from studying for her tests and that he is actually not doing anything too important, then he might as well answer…

Patting his hands dry in a cloth, he goes over to the counter to grip the device in between his fingers, sliding his fingers across the screen to write down his password before he is met by the sight of the opened conversation with his new friend. He calls it endless, mainly because from the moment it started with a brief ‘hello’, it never got a goodbye. Talking to her comes naturally, coming together thanks to art and connecting with each other in the name of passion, for they equally thrive for a dream.

The simple text stares back at him and in no time, he is answering.

Washing the dishes, but I am too lazy to continue…My roommate is not there for me to boss him around, either.

For a moment, he thinks of what he should write next.

How is studying going?

What he learns from her is that her dramatics are palpable, the hyperbole ever present in anything she says. It brings excitement to them, considering Ten has always enjoyed to live life with interesting people at hand. Like a show or a meal, two things that he has gotten to know well with his dream in one hand and his job in another, they all need to be outstanding to be exciting and enjoyed by other individuals.

The three dots move repeatedly, until a message arrives at his sight. The amount of emoticons in the verge of crying that she adds is exponential, definitely enough to bring a smile to his face. The pressure a university student must feel at this time of the year is not quite the highest, for April is just another month in meaningless existence, but for her…every day is a final test type of day and the fear of failure clings to her. It’s difficult to learn some of the passages from those books and even though she studies her hardest, there are times where she doesn’t get the grade she wanted—or deserved, for the matter—and Ten has self-taught himself the ability of making her feel better.

I can’t understand shit. I want to cry.

Ten’s eyes widen at that, brown hues becoming soft at the reminder of how difficult it is to have someone’s hard work not paying off for them. That was how he felt at the start of the previous year, the reason why he started working at a pizza shop in the first place.

Take a small break and then, go back to studying. You can do this. Learn the most important stuff. You don’t have to pressure yourself.

Easier said than done, he knows, but when he doesn’t get an answer for the next five minutes, he knows he either lost her to the need of sleep or she went back to studying. It is actually a push for him to continue doing errands, finally cleaning up his place after a draining week, making sure that the sheets on his bed are changed, the cushions on his couch are fluffed out, the bathroom is clean…and in the matter of seconds, he is trying to relax with a shower and a nice, hot meal. Not that he can fully relax, not when he is watching an episode of that damned show that pulled them together the last time they had physically seen each other and he is constantly reminded of her. His mind comes up with the most absurd of questions: Has she eaten? He wonders, and it is the type of question he rarely wonders about someone, and yet…there she is, in the back of his brain like a warning sign, shining bright and leaving him in utter distress.

His sheets are well wrapped around his body by the time eleven hits in the clock, his drowsiness getting the best of him and dragging him to the bed before he can even watch another episode. The fabrics are comfortable around his legs, the restriction from his jeans long gone and replaced with the sweet touch of relief. His black hair is made a mess, his skin still glistening with whatever skincare product he managed to put on his face with such sleepiness and still, he opens his eyes when he hears his charging phone vibrating on the bedside table. He should let it be, keep it as a nice touch for his early morning tomorrow, but his fingers move far too quickly, worry overtaking him when his eyes squint to look at the bright source of light.

Giving importance to someone in a few weeks of talking is stupid, but Ten knows the name of all of this—attraction, but the thought is often pushed to the back of his brain. Though his flirty remarks are there, he knows it is not a good idea to go out with someone like her, for she has never shown interest in that way and she is a huge believer of real love and fairytales.

Hence, the text.

Ugh, sorry, I was studying again. All I want to do is sleep and have someone cuddle me because my head is hurting so bad.

Their views about love are absolute different and Ten doesn’t understand the importance of intimacy past relief quite well. He doesn’t want to get the connection of two people through skin and soul, merely because it seems too unprotected, like all the walls a person could have holding up being torn for the mere action of feeling accompanied. That, he doesn’t understand, and most of their nights—and days—talking don’t consist of her imminent love for…well, love, but he knows that it is always in the back of her head. A love like one in the movies, like one in TV shows, a forever and always disguised as reality.

Haha, you should go rest now. Also, what’s your deal with cuddling and all those soft things? Too many rom-coms or what?

The joking manner is there, only highlighted by his emoticons and he gets the response equally as fast, probably because she is opting to go to bed, laying down against her sheets just like how he is doing in his own room.

I just want to experience it. Everyone talks about dating and being in love, it must be a good thing. Let me have my fun. Don’t be such a hater.

A scoff leaves his lips, the corner of them lifting up in a smile.

Love is overrated.

You have not fallen in love either, hush. Don’t judge it until you try! What makes you think it’s overrated?

He doesn’t remember falling asleep but once he opens his eyes in the peak of the morning when the Sun is barely peeking on the sky, his alarm ringing in his ears obnoxiously, his body frightens in fear of not charging his phone, only to be met by a fully charged battery—thankfully, and he sighs in glee at that, turning his alarm off in a hassle—and a text that has him laughing.

Never. And it’s just a gut feeling.

Maybe, his gut feeling is right…but there is always an exception to the rule.

🍕

“You’re telling me your favorite cinnamon rolls come from a food truck?”

After an entire month of talking is when Ten finally has the time—and the energy—to go out with his pizza-place-found friend. Not that she is any less tired, sporting a pair of sunglasses that now rests on top of her head, a perfect mask for the bags under her eyes after such tedious times in school and work. Radiant and beautiful, still, she is, though visibly stiff by the way her shoulders remain tight under the fabric of her patterned blouse. The streets of such a welcoming city are what surrounds them, the sidewalks filled with people in that side of town—as it turns out, there is a universe of street food that he has yet to know and she has a PhD in junk food knowledge. The conversation had started nicely, meeting at the nearest park before diverting their attention from formalities to asking about their lives whilst walking and finally, the most important, filling their stomachs in this meeting.

Meeting, since it’s not a date. She brought it up first…and never really called it a date, either.

His attire is different from the one she had seen him in at his workplace, though she has liked one or two of his Instagram posts. His pierced ears are shown by his hairstyle, moved back slightly by a bit of gel, though not too much. His usual red and bright uniform is changed for something simpler, a white graphic t-shirt tucked into his jeans, something that was complimented by his friend earlier on the night. His fingers hook on the strap of his backpack, dangling off one shoulder when she gives him a nod.

“So, you saw my group of friends the other day. Ash? She’s like the worst cook ever, and when we were roommates she would always bring me something from what she had for dinner. Sweet, really.” Though, Ten remembers hearing that Ash is also the same person that she said was the worst roommate she ever had. Too much of a mess and too clingy with her boyfriend, for someone who loves romance so much, she couldn’t stand the tiniest bit of public displays of affection. “She showed me this place once and it’s a pastry food truck. It’s so delicious. The old lady that owns it knows me and all.”

Ten raises his eyebrows at that, smirking at her words. “Wow, impressive. The lady from the food truck knows you.” The sarcasm in his voice, mixed with sassiness, has her groaning before pushing his side slightly, making him tumble a bit before regaining his balance. “Hey, I was joking!”

“Once you taste her cinnamon rolls you’re going to regret ever talking like that.” She tells him, already looking in the depths of her purse to find some money, leading the way in their little trip through the seas of people in such street. “It’s either eating that or we go buy some fruits to eat.”

Scrunching up his nose momentarily, he shrugs his shoulders as if it is nothing. “I never said anything against the old lady. I’m just saying you get so excited over the tiniest of stuff.” Contrary to what his words may sound like, the smile on his face is full of adoration, because she feels so wildly that she may be the culprit of innocence.

She looks at him with a bit of a frown over her face, her bottom lip jutting out when she speaks: “And that’s wrong?”

Her steps begin haltering, slower until they reach a pink and white food truck with donuts and pastries all painted on the walls. Indeed, there is an old lady inside the truck, peeking her head outside to look at the customers who arrive. However, Ten has a conversation at hand and his heart palpitates softly at the mere sight of her face, like she has been told that before. Excitement is always overlooked as overreaction and to see someone’s imminent smile at life is…something that is not expected to be found in the world. Why take that happiness away when it already lives beneath her? “That’s not wrong at all,” He tells her, the background filled with music coming from one of the food trucks a few miles away. “It’s admirable. I wish I could look at life the way you do.”

She chuckles at his words, something inside her eyes gleaming with happiness. “You’re okay as you are. People like me get hurt in the long run…but you…Ten, I don’t think you’re even able to get your heart broken. Now, that is admirable.”

Wrong she is, for one of the few times in her life, mainly because Ten tries to convince himself that through joking manners, the everlasting sassiness within him and this permanent fight against love, he is going to protect himself from a lot of things. Heartbreak, for once, coming from a broken goal or a time-lapse that wasn’t met. He thinks not feeling too much is the cure of weakness, but at the same time, there is a bit of curiousness within him. What happens to those people who simply feel? Who worry so much and love so much, who give their whole lives out for people and not for a goal. The closest thing he has ever felt for that is the romance he has with his own art, but he knows his own dream is controlled by his actions, for the dancefloor is not going to suddenly step on his heart for no apparent reason.

People do that a lot, even absentmindedly.

He has done it, too. The amount of people he has had to pull away from because he doesn’t feel as strongly for them as they do is there, a reminder that he has his devilish side, as well.

“Thank you?” Ten comments, laughing at her words and earning a nod from her before their conversation is rudely—or nicely, maybe—interrupted by the lady in the food truck. Her eyes are adorned by the wrinkles at the edges, rounded glasses resting on the bridge of her nose and dyed blonde hair covering her otherwise gray locks. An apron is tied around her waist, sweet like the paintings in the food-truck, but the smile she gives to her known client is almost diabetes inducing.

“Oh, you’re back with another boy! This one is prettier than that one you brought last time.”

She is a gorgeous woman…and in desperate need to experience whatever love is, so it is not surprising that she has gone in a few dates. In her words, she never goes past the first date and it has been like that for the past two or three years. She either gets tired of her date or they are absolutely bat-shit crazy. Nonetheless, the black haired young man takes that as an opportunity to lean over where she is, speaking loud enough for the lady and his friend to listen to him. “You already brought another guy here?”

A guilty smile appears on her face when she licks the inside of her cheek, looking over her shoulder to stare at Ten. “Yes. Why? Jealous?”

“Curious. You have to show me a picture of that guy so I can know what I’m being compared to.”

“Who you’re being compared to. You used the wrong word.”

“No, I meant what. All you date is trash, after all.”

Laughing at his words or perhaps at his antics, the two friends lift their gazes to look at the old lady who has a look of adoration over her face, practically spilling the dulcet taste of her pastries on her grin. “Hello! Yes, I brought my friend with me today. Can we have two cinnamon rolls and…two glazed donuts, please?”

The woman gets to work, picking up a paper bag with the food truck’s logo imprinted on it and picking out the pastries her client had ordered. “Just a friend?” Ten exchanges a glance with her, earning a shrug before they both confirm that they are just friends. “It’s none of my business…but you’re missing out. This young man is very pretty.”

When he wraps his fingers around the bag given to them, paying the entirety of it even when she tries to give her half of the money to the woman in front of her, he laughs at the compliment. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”

“Do you have some diet coke, too?” She asks before nudging Ten’s side. “Let me invite the drinks, at least.”

“I do!” The old woman indicates, reaching over for the drinks and receiving the money according to the prizes displayed behind her. The coldness of the bottle clings to his fingertips, his bones and joints aching slightly at how cold it is, watching when his friend pays for them before standing by his side. The walk starts soon after—not without forgetting to thank the old woman by the food truck—, step after step being followed by the sound of lids being twisted and the paper bag opening once they reach a nearby small table for them to sit at.

“Nice old lady.” Ten comments, taking a napkin to place the cinnamon roll over it and give it a bite, only to hear the sound of her chuckle.

“She’s not that nosy most of the time, but you must have reminded her of her young love affair or something.” Her eyes are fixated on him when he gives the first bite, her lips pressing down together out of nervousness. “Do you like it? They are my absolute favorites. I have them more than I pride myself on.”

The taste is flavorful, the almonds in the mix making the crunch a lot more pleasurable. The pastry is not too dry, leaving the lemon cream on top to coat it with a hint of bitterness, though necessary. The pastry hits the back of his tongue like a sonata, too much but at the same time everything he needed. “These are so good.”

“I have the best tastes.”

“Speaking of,” Ten says, pressing the corner of the napkin to his lips before leaning forward on his seat. The look on his face is of interest and she is halfway through chewing on her cinnamon roll, eyes looking at him with all the innocence in the world when he continues. “Who was that guy you brought here, as well? I should feel bad…but knowing you, you just did that because you were being too nice, as per usual, so I’ll let it slide.” Once again, he is mocking her and a gush of air leaves his lips when she kicks his calf under the table, softly, of course.

Her fingers push her phone out of her pocket, unlocking it as she speaks. “I went out on a date with a guy like five months ago. He was the nicest guy I’ve gone out on a date with, which is why I decided to bring him here for dessert.”

From his spot, Ten hums at her words. “And you weren’t the dessert?”

“No, Ten, I wasn’t.” Her eyes stop looking down at her phone to glare at him before breaking into laughter. “We didn’t even kiss or anything. His name is Cho and he’s a nurse, so he barely has time to…you know, go out on dates or whatever. We are friends right now.” The screen of her phone is showcased in front of his eyes, an Instagram account being shown to him. There, he sees a somewhat short and technically buff guy, with the most serious expression he has ever seen in his life—in reality, it would surprise Ten if this man has ever laughed in his life—. He wears glasses and scrubs, typical and taken out of a Grey’s Anatomy episode, though he is the exact type of person he would never imagine with the epitome of brightness. “That’s Cho. I mean…yes, you’re technically better looking, but he is opting for a masters and he is very serious. I think he is the type of man to settle down…and if he was not so busy, I’d go out on another date with him. See how it goes.”

“Does he ever smile?” Ten questions, earning a laugh from her part before she puts her phone down. The straw of her drink slips in between her lips, fruit too forbidden for him to look at even for the smallest of seconds, but the beauty of her is always in the back of his head.

“Not really, no.” The confirmation is all she needs.

“And you wanted to go out on a second date with him, just because…he is the type to settle down?”

“Isn’t that the whole point of me looking for someone?” Though, the way her smile suddenly shifts to face downwards is an indicator of her unhappiness. As far as he knows, and from what he can realize, there is more to her than simply looking for a man—she knows her worth as an individual, spending quality time with the people that make her feel the most at ease and bettering herself with knowledge the more she grows, but there is always that prick of curiousness in the form of a voice. “To settle down and look for the closest thing to a…I don’t know, real love?”

In most occasions, Ten jokes around with the people he enjoys talking to—he thinks life is more enjoyable if he just smiles at everything and shares his happiness with people, even if it’s remotely small or big. This is not one of those moments because the least Ten wants to do is laugh at her, contrary to what anyone would believe. He may not believe in love, but what may be an invisible ghost for him may be salvation for someone else. “Listen, love is a great thing for some people…if it even exists, to start with.” For the first time, she doesn’t give her opinion on the matter, simply munching on her food. “But that’s not a reason for you to settle for anyone, much less someone whose only personality trait is being…able to settle down. The point of looking for someone is that you enjoy yourself, too.” Her eyes stare up to look at him, her eyebrows magically drawn together in what seems to be surprise to hear him speak so seriously. “If you really liked this Cho guy, the least you would think about is that he wants to settle down. You would be talking about how funny he is or something, or like…how caring he is. Maybe, how he likes certain stuff you don’t or how he’s a nurse because he wants to save lives, like…is being serious all you can seem to notice?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she bites down on her bottom lip. “What’s the point, though?” Before Ten could answer, she gives a piece of her mind. “I’m looking for the perfect guy everywhere, but I never find him. I just— He’s the best I could find, that has to mean something.”

Taking a long sip of his drink, he responds soon after. “Yes. It means you are like any human being and make mistakes when dating. That’s normal.”

“I thought you said I had bad tastes.”

“That, too.” Soon after, the atmosphere switches to something more lightweight and Ten locks her phone before giving it back, placing it atop her hand delicately. “You don’t have to date without wanting to just to get the romance experience. You’re worth of loving and someone will arrive that will love you as much as you want to be loved.”

Looking up at the stars in the sky, drenching holes in the pure black sky, she smiles at his words before shaking her head. “Don’t tell me those things if you don’t want me to cry,” The words get choked up by her chuckle and Ten reaches over to open the bag of treats, holding his glazed donuts in between sugar and cinnamon coated fingertips while he listens to her voice, the beauty of naivety shining from within her soul. “You’re one sweet guy even though you try to make yourself look like a jerk, you know that?”

“I am.” He tells her, taking a big bite of his donut. “But we’re not getting full with only these two things. We should go grab some real food. Is there any food-truck with, like, something very good?”

“And then you try to drift the attention away from you being sweet.” She points out and the apples of Ten’s cheeks burn in embarrassment as he laughs at her words, nodding his head because he can only accept it. For someone who prides himself in his lack of feelings, he does get attached to people—not necessarily showing how much he appreciates them at any given time, but telling their reality straight to their face in order to protect them is more of his way of showing his admiration. Using the paper bag to hold the donut, she looks around the street as she thinks of the possibilities. “Huh, get ready, because I’m making you have the best food you’ve tried in your life.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Oh, I’m confident.”

The way she speaks after that…with such excitement and joy to live and breathe and love is simply what has Ten so intrigued to get to know her even more. Something about her was different, though not wronged, as if she made her purpose to give and give, expecting nothing in return. Those type of people didn’t exist that much anymore, or at least, he hasn’t met plenty of them…but it is a joy to watch someone like that exist at the same time as him, uniting them in threads of interest, of friendship, maybe attraction from his part, but once again, his conscience murders the thought before it can really settle. Someone like her wants true love, and Ten is just not the material for it.

🍕

A thousand odes of hatred he had written to the day his heart beat so loudly that he felt like he couldn’t even breathe and May welcomes him with such a feeling, laughter getting confused with the roaring of small engines going from one corner to the other, the mini version of a road welcoming him with the faux white lights on the ceiling, adrenaline in its minimal form. The feeling overcomes him when he is behind the steering wheel, speeding through the lapses and smiling at the world from under his helmet, thinking of himself as a racer until someone does the absolute most to make him laugh, someone’s car bumping right in the back of his own go-kart, repeatedly as that certain person mocks him:

“Whoa, is the talented Ten scared of racing with a go-kart?”

The lively tone in her voice shouldn’t have brought a flutter to his chest but it is to be expected; most of the time, he only gets to talk to her through the phone, mainly in texts that go back and forth between the two, with big hours of differences thanks to their busy schedules, but when he does get to hear her voice, it feels like he is living the best day of his life. A bump on his car makes his chest press against the steering wheel, looking over his shoulder to catch a sight of her expression and the giggle she gives him is not visible through the helmet. When she had told him that she loved to go-kart (“One of my friends works at a go-kart place. If we go after eight, we’ll get the whole experience by ourselves and we can do whatever we want.”), he had expected her to be respectful and sweet, like she normally is, but that was proven wrong quite rapidly.

“Stop bumping my car.” Ten adds in between laughter, only to feel another small nudge to the back of his car. It is not forceful, rather a little touch that has him frowning. “Hey, I said stop!” Stepping on the pedal to move back, now it is his go-kart that collides with hers, earning a small hiss from the woman.

“Did you just hit my car?”

“Uh, yeah. Get out my way.” Though he is laughing, enjoying himself so profoundly that he feels like it may be sinful. This is not how he feels when he hangs around with the annoying guy from the jewelry store in front of his workplace, Wong Yukhei, neither is it what he feels when he speaks to his closest of friends. It is not the tingly feeling of attraction…entirely, there is something more in there, something that he doesn’t want to name in fear of knowing what it is. Nicely felt it is, though he tries to ignore it. He continues to go forward, parking in front of her friend just in time to hear the roaring of her engine beside him, getting out of her go-kart and taking off her helmet, the strands of her hair made a mess and falling over her face when she hears him speak. “Did you even learn how to drive?!”

“I did,” Her helmet rests against her hips, the skin leaning to one side of her body before nearing him and tugging the helmet away from his face. “You look so cool with this thing on.”

His fingers run through his hair, taking the time to rub at his scalp before giving her a shameful smile. “So do you.” Her hands reach for his, bringing him up until he is standing away from the go-kart and right in front of her. “But I don’t think I want to race you again. Like, do you drive like that in real life? I’m scared of even riding with you!”

He feels the gaze of her friend trailing back behind them as they start to walk away from the go-karts. The second of May shouldn’t feel this good, a Saturday shouldn’t have such meaning…but with how tired she has been lately and how draining one of her classes has been, taking all the happiness she has and turning it into anger, he can’t help but want to make her feel better. She does so, too, claiming that they would have fun if they went out to race. She wasn’t wrong, sincerely. “You’re the one that was going so slow. You reminded me of a grandpa.”

Nudging her side, Ten watches as she chuckles before he grips her arm, bringing him back to where he is standing. “You’re learning all the bad things from me.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t have said that in February, for example, but no, you take all my asshole traits and make them your own.”

“I’m a good actress.” She comments, now taking a seat on the floor near the entrance, opening her backpack to get her water bottle out, taking a sip of it before giving the source of liquid to the man by her side. Ten takes the time to look at her, more disheveled that he has ever seen her, sweat clinging to her forehead, her lips so tightly holding on to its happiness that he could dance to the sound of her laughter. This is how he likes to see her, enjoying her life. “By the way, you’re going to be proud of me.” Her hand gets lost inside his bag once again but before she could show him whatever it was that would make him proud, Ten intervened.

“I’m already proud of you.” He utters, voice a little bit rough after taking such a big gulp of water. “But sure, tell me. What would make me proud?”

Clearing her throat, she unlocks her phone. “Well, you see, I posted a picture like two days ago. That one picture you took of me when we went out to the art museum?” He nods his head, recalling the image of her in front of a painting, a muse for the lens in his hands. “Well, Cho liked it and he sent me a direct message soon after.” He doesn’t know why his jaw tightens or why his smile disappears, why he feels like he is hearing news that leave a bitter taste on his tongue, but that is exactly how it feels. Jealous, that’s what takes over him, what turns his body in nothing more than a possessed soul. “And he was asking to meet up with me again in a date, but I told him I couldn’t because I don’t feel that way for him.”

His heart may have shattered; out of happiness, in a mocking manner or simply because he hates whatever is that keeps him tangled to her, but his eyes widen at her words…because the biggest romanticist in the world had given up romance thanks to an advice he had given her. “Yes?” He asks, earning a hum from her part as she shows him the messages. “And what did he say? Was he cool?”

“You’re right,” In any other occasion, she may have pouted at those words, but instead, she is welcoming the mistakes that come in the name of love. “I do like jerks. He blocked me after that.”

“…Asshole.” Ten spits, noticing how their shoulders are touching, eyes lifting to lock gazes with her before he realizes just how there is nothing left unclear in her gaze. The communication in between the two, of peacefulness and gratitude, shows through the brightness of her eyes and her lips part slightly to give him one of those tight lipped half-smiles.

“I’m glad I got out of that mess.”

“So am I.” He claims, feeling her fingers patting his thigh before her figure stands up in front of him.

“Let’s go for another round.” Her voice opts to say, Ten’s palms digging into the floor to lift his weight up. His fingers dust his jeans just in case he got any dirt on them, just in time to hear her speak something that he had repeated a thousand times. “You’re right. Love doesn’t even exist.”

His mind melts at the sound of those words, trying to come up with an answer that is valid, but instead he continues with something that sounds like the type of person he is. “You need something to believe in. Just because I don’t believe in it doesn’t mean you can’t.”

I don’t believe in it.

I don’t believe in love.

Love doesn’t exist.

Ten tries to repeat that inside his head by the time their meeting is over, left with the tingling sensation of her arms wrapped around him and he cusses himself for ever getting attached. He doesn’t even believe what his mind is trying to tell him, hormones mixing with matters of the heart and the mind. She is the one that believes in this, not him.

Love doesn’t exist.

🍕

White. Purple. Blue. All these colors splay across the masses of people in the dance floor, the sound of the bass thumping against every corner of his body, ribs and heart becoming one with the music. Not only is the fabric of her dress capturing all these lights, coating the satin dress in endless colors even though its plain shade remains black, but his eyes are constantly checking the beauty of her. Normally, the dance club is often visited by him whenever his friends from the dance studio invite him, and if he’s not too tired, he’ll pop by to have a drink or two and enjoy the music that makes people coexist in peace, but this time around, he decides to bring his friend with him. Unlike him, who is cladded in a white t-shirt with a nice jacket over it, his most expensive shoes indicating his invite to the dance floor, she looks pristine, white cropped sweater resting on top of her satin dress that is not falling in the middle of her thighs.

A couple of people give a few steps back and that is enough to shorten the space in between the two, her back colliding against his front as they look for a place in which they can finally dance the night away. He had promised that much, at least, always having to read her texts about how she really wants to see him dance in person—not through a video on Instagram, not through those self-made videos he sends her of a new routine he came up with for a future presentation, but body to body, eyes to eyes, skin to sin. Ten is eager, too, wanting to show the most passionate side of himself to her, the one who always speak about her favorite pieces of art, her love for adrenaline, the burst of dopamine becoming thrilling for him.

“You didn’t tell me it was this crowded.” She spoke, looking over her shoulder for her words to reach him. Ten looks into her eyes, their faces nearing thanks to the action, though his hand goes up to rest on her waist, wrapping the entirety of his arm around it and caging them to the nearest wall so the group of dancing individuals could pass by without stepping on their feet.

“It’s Friday night and I guess…people may feel like dancing.” Bringing his bottle of soda up his lips, he takes a brief sip before humming softly. His touch is still lingering within her, noticing how her breathing matches his when his chest presses to her back. “Which we should do about now. I brought you here to show you how to dance properly, didn’t I?”

This time, she turns around, her hands clasped in front of her with such excitement and glee that she might burst the skin there. “I’m so excited. I’ve never been in a place like this.”

“It’s nothing different from a club, just that better dancers frequent it.” The atmosphere is enough to bring confidence to him, smiling as he tugs at her arm and brings her closer. Music is a part of him, the part that speaks the loudest and bleeds the strongest, the one that shows the reality of Ten—the sentimentalism, the spark, the bite, everything about him that makes him both rugged but also extremely soft. The eyes of people are used to settle on him thanks to his enchanting nature, his charismatic way of fixing every occasion and making it memorable, but the way she looks at him is soft, like she sees something that he never knew existed within him. “I, for one, am one of those dancers.”

She nods her head, once again being pushed by someone until her chest is pressed directly to Ten’s, her hands carefully resting on his waist to keep her from falling. Once the person goes away, she lets out a huff. “You are one of those dancers but way more polite. You didn’t tell me they were like this.”

“It happens. People are buzzed around here.” He comments, shrugging his shoulders before crooking his elbow for her to wrap her arm around it. She does without him having to tell her anything about it, too. “We have to make ourselves be respected, so we have to find a nice spot and just dance, that’s all.” His hands are a shelter, keeping her away from the people around them, roaming through the depths of drunken messes that are in the dance floor until they find a somewhat secluded spot, nearer to the center.

“I’m so glad you brought me here.” She tells him, feeling him tug at the edge of her sweater to pull her closer, her hands sneaking around his neck at that time. It’s the first time they are so close and in reality, Ten doesn’t mind the proximity, but what he does mind is the matter in which his heart seems to be freaking out about such a simplistic gesture. “I’m sorry I look a bit out of place. I didn’t know if the place was going to be cold or hot!”

“You look cute.” Ten tells her, looking at someone from the corner of his eyes when he feels like there is a person watching them and indeed, life smacks him in the face when he sees a guy looking at them, dancing slightly as he keeps his eyes on Ten’s friend. His gaze returns to the woman in front of him, clearing his throat. “There is a guy looking at you and he’s not bad looking.”

Most of the time, she is flattered by the subtlest of things, but this time around…when Ten really does think that she is going to turn back to look at the man that he is talking about, she doesn’t do anything impressive. It takes two steps forward for them to be even more together, her smile permanent on her features. “And? I came here with Ten, not with that guy.”

Now, the one who is flattered is himself and he is thankful of the dark room for hiding the blushing tips of his ears and the glistening cheeks that accompany her statement after it has been released to the world. Their world, in which only the two of them exist. “Oh, okay. I like that.” His bottom lip is stuck in between his teeth until he places his hands on the edge of her hands that are resting behind his head. “Do you want to slow dance? This is not how you normally dance in a place like this.”

Embarrassment takes over her features and she pulls away just the slightest, though her arms are placed on each side of his jaw. “It was your idea to teach me, so teach me.” For one second, he sees the mischief gleaming in her eyes and it is at that moment that he sees the power she holds over him, so capable of destroying his own world with her own sweetness. Sure, he is certain that she would never do such thing to him—not even absentmindedly—but she has invented this new part of himself that he can’t even recognize anymore. “Teach me a dance for girls.” The way she drags the world brings him a flashback of the time he sent her videos and pictures of him as a child, even though his awkwardness was eating him alive at the time, making him cringe at the reputation he was painting for himself. His fingers move her long earrings away from her face slightly before shaking his head.

“You said you would never mention it again!”

“But I’m a girl and I need to be taught a dance for girls.” Her lips pucker up slightly and Ten rolls his eyes, groaning when she laughs harder.

“It’s not funny.” He complains, though the smile on his face is his accessory whenever he is with her. This sweet, dulcet, overbearing taste in his mouth is obsessive and he hates it with his every being, knowing that if he gets too close he is going to become one of those people he used to groan at. What is more important, his pride…or whatever he feels for her, just not to say the name?

“To me, it is.”

His finger ghost over her waist, tickling her slightly before resting his hands there. “So mean.”

The worst part of it all is that he can’t get mad at her, not when she follows after his steps and does her best to become one with the thing he loves the most. At the end of the night, even when the electronic music is asking for loud stomping on the floor and loud cheering, he is simply slow dancing in the middle of a bunch of strangers, holding someone who holds the rawest, less known part of him and it’s so scary that he can simply smile through it, hoping that the devil of love never reaches him.

🍕

The beige curtains of his room move with the breeze coming from the air conditioner, to one side and the other, basically dozing Ten with an ounce of sleepiness, his eyes closing momentarily before he jolts awake once again, his fingers digging into the skin of the muscles on his legs, pained thanks to the huge amounts of practicing and the new motorcycle the boss at the pizza place had bought for the new delivery guy. Big surprise, the delivery guy got stomach sick at the end of the night and he had to run the last few errands at the shop while trying his hardest not to get into a crash.

Messily tied is his hair over his head and his phone hasn’t even vibrated with the hope of getting a ray of sunshine in his day. She said that she was busy earlier in the day, talking about a few projects from work that have only been piling up and she needs to get a signature from god-knows-who, meaning that she won’t even be a nice distraction from the night. Not even a distraction, Ten is genuinely worried about her…sometimes, she simply forgets to give herself breaks or she blames herself for a bad day, saying that anything that the world does wrongly is her fault. Some days, he wants her to stop giving so much and instead, asking something in return. Some days, Ten considers leaving his selfish ways behind simply to give her everything she deserves, which is exactly what she needs and desires. She is not perfect, perhaps too bright, too naïve, ready to take the lightning strike of the world only for the sake of settling well in people’s list of most loved people, but that is who she is…and Ten can’t say he doesn’t like it.

He really does like it, more than he prides himself on believing.

When he feels himself giving up on his stupid and useless self-massage, his ears make out the sound of his phone vibrating on his bedside table, but the call is cut short before he can even reach it. His fingers hook on the edge of the phone, unlocking it and trying to call the contact that had just called him, her name bringing worry immediately…that or the biggest feeling of longing. If they haven’t talked in a while, it has been even longer since the last time he saw her.

A text welcomes him after she hangs up the call, bright and straight in its delivery.

Sorry, I dialed the wrong number. Didn’t mean to bother you.

And of course, he replies:

You’re never a bother.

What he doesn’t expect, though, is for her to lie to him. Lie to him so innocently that it seems like the type of white lies a child would tell, something that she is not even good at doing. His alarm goes off obnoxiously, a tired breath going through his nose as he ponders when a day of relaxation is going to come by. All he has done for the past few years is dance and work, dance and work, in hopes of someday being able to do more than serving pizzas and concentrate on his dream, but as it turns out, he has not met that goal yet. His naked arms trail up until they rest over his eyes, right after snoozing the terrible sound that had filled the room, silky skin of his fingertips rubbing up and down his face, soon after patting on the surface of his bedside table, turning on his phone and being welcomed by the notification of a new voice message…and from the person who had said that had dialed the wrong number.

But he doesn’t have much time to listen to the long voicemail, so his phone rests peacefully over his bed as he starts to get ready for the day, the sound of her voice becoming background noise as he looks for a new pair of underwear, a fresh set of practice clothes for him to feel comfortable and in a minute, he must check if he packed his uniform inside his backpack—

“Uh, Ten, hi…I know you’re asleep by now…I actually didn’t want you to pick up.” The voicemail recalls, the sound of her laughter coming in nervous spurts. “Ah, I’m not brave enough to do this, but I’m doing it because I can’t actually lie and just—let me explain a few things first.” His weight leans against his closet, the fabric of the clothes he is going to wear for the day pressed to his chest. “You have taught me so much in the past few months. You taught me how to love myself past finding romance, you taught me that…guys aren’t shit.” He chuckles at her words, blinking softly at the device on his bed. “Okay, not really, I learned that myself. You taught me love isn’t real…and then, you…” A soft breath leaves her lips, shaky in its execution. “You told me one day I was worth loving, right, and from then on…I loved myself more. Sure, I wouldn’t say I’m all the way there…but…I realize my worth now and I was thinking one of these days that the only person I feel like is worth of all this mess I am, uh, it’s someone I know. That person is you, Ten.” His body moves forward when he hears those words, hands shaking as he grasps his phone in between his hands, frowning down at the name she is giving to what he thought was unwarranted. “It’s taking all in me to say this and you can ignore this, you can pretend I never said this and we can keep being friends after this, but I really wanted to ask you out on a date. Not when we first met, and I’m not doing it because I want a boyfriend. I’m doing it because I really, really, really, really like you as a person.” The sound of something shuffling in the background can only match the sound of jumping. Perhaps, she did that because she was nervous. “So yeah, that’s that. I’m here, I was going to tell it to you through the phone but I chickened out. I like you and I want to take you out on a date. Uh…you can call me, or not, that’s okay. Bye.”

That is so like anything he would have thought she would do when she likes someone. Cheesy, nervous, giggly and everything he used to hate. He can’t say he doesn’t despise love…because he does, and it will always be that way. He hates romantic comedies and love songs, but he also loves watching TV shows with her and singing to those songs as they walk around the city. In other people, it seems so utterly scary, so terrifyingly compromised that it makes him want to run away…but denying her a date is like denying her the heaven she deserves. The worst part is that his gift for ‘break-up season’, the season he enjoys the most because he can get a boost of his ego by proving he is right in his love theories, gave him a taste of his own medicine.

…The season of heartbreak proved him wrong. Or at least, everything seems far too peachy to ever end badly.

With a smile on his face and his body plopping down on the bed, he rings her phone, hoping that she picks up even if it’s too early to even be giving this call. The phone rings slightly until he hears her mumbling his name uncertainly, definitely sleepy as she does so, until he can’t even hide it anymore.

He’s not in love, but he likes her a lot…and that’s just enough for now. He is not going to spare himself the pleasure of trying it out.

“Where are you taking me, baby?”

February is break-up season, but June is the season of a new start for Ten.

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thekidultlife · 4 years

Text

I Want Your Midnights | Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Idol AU (?)

⍟ Genre: Fluff, a bit of angst on the side

⍟ Warnings: -

⍟ Word Count: 4.3k

⍟ A/N: Alright I know you guys are already sick of me just posting Jihoon fics, but it’s my birthday today, so just...humor me pls. This is almost a self-indulgent fic;;; I’ll be tagging @nrhfzh and all those jihoon stans who sent anons last time!!

(this should be posted on Friday which is Leanne’s schedule, but we decided she won’t post anything this week and I won’t post next Moday;;;)

btw, the song featured here is New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift. I recommend you listen to that song while reading this skkssk

-Hyeri

It was like an ordinary night. Like any night that you have spent before and will spend more in the future. Nothing extraordinary could be noted in particular between you and Lee Jihoon as you both sat eating in the quiet and privacy of his studio, between out of place candles and almost empty chicken buckets. It was as normal as a night can be.

Yet at the same time, in your own little way, it was also special.

Not being overly expressive with your love for each other, subtle gestures and acts of love screamed more than a thousand words could ever do. It never felt lacking or boring or empty like people thought it would be. In fact, your relationship was an adventure, even barely starting, it had been an uphill battle, and you both knew that.

As you came back from the comfort room washing your hands, you made a small scheming grin at your boyfriend who was still gobbling up the last remains of his chicken wing. Taking notice of that, he glanced at you with a smirk of his own.

"I know that look. What are you planning?" He asked as you sat across him, your arms folded confidently.

"Are you done eating?" You replied, watching him with a childish cheekiness in you.

"Well yeah," he dusted off the crumbs on his shirt with an innocent look. "What are you thinking though?"

With a coquettish smile, you stood up from your seat and went to his side. "Nothing really. Though I do want you to close your eyes and trust me."

Jihoon glanced at you with a bewildered look at first, wondering what you were scheming again this time, but when he saw that mischievous glint in your eyes, he knew it was something he shouldn't really worry about and simply chuckled at you.

"Fine, but don't do any funny business!" He finally agreed as he closed his eyes and waited for you.

He could hear you walking away and some wheels rolling. "I've never done any funny business." You denied teasingly.

He scoffed, even with his eyes closed. "Yeah right. Except that time when you drew on my face when I was drunk!"

He knew you were making an incredulous expression right now.

"C'mon! I was just trying to see what you would look like with a mustache," you laughed, walking towards him and reaching for his hands. "Don't open your eyes yet. I promise I won't draw a third eye on your forehead this time."

"Please don't. And please stop sharing meme faces of me to the other members. My reputation as vocal boss is on the line," he retorted back with a toothy grin as you chuckled, guiding him somewhere in the room.

"Can't promise that, Ji. I like my status as the official Lee Jihoon meme distributor," you replied, making him laugh out loud at how ridiculous that title was, before the both of you stopped walking. "You can sit now. I promise there's a chair to catch your butt."

For a while he feared that there really wasn't any chair for him to sit on, yet when he felt the soft foam of his swivel chair, he relaxed for a bit and sat down. Turning the chair around before you backed away, you allowed him to finally open his eyes. As soon as his sight came back, he was greeted by the image of you sitting in front of the electric keyboard with a soft smile on your lips.

"I can't promise you my voice or my playing would be up to your standards, but just…it's the thought that counts right?" You suddenly rambled, giggling.

Blinking, Jihoon was still processing what you were planning until it dawned on him the next second. "Are….are you going to sing me a song?"

You smiled at him bashfully. "Yeah, though I wish it was a song that I made myself, but I guess I'll put my feelings into somebody else's words for now. So you better listen."

Gazing into your eyes, he could sense the sincerity deep in you. You were someone who wouldn't make an effort just for the sake of being romantic. Everything you do for him meant something and was done with great consideration, he understood that, that's why right now, he could feel his heart swell with emotion.

A gentle smile on his lips, Jihoon leaned back. "I'll listen. Don't worry, I won't judge."

“You promised that, okay?” With a sheepish grin, you turned your attention back to the piano and placed your fingers on the correct chords.

With a small nervous breath, you began playing.

"There's glitter on the floor after the party

Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby…"

Soft chords accentuate your raw and amateur voice. It didn't need to be technically perfect, the genuine emotions which surfaced on your voice reflected beauty in Jihoon's ears. It didn't need to be perfect, but it was real. He always loved that about you. Your brutal honesty, the unapologetic optimism you had. It gives him strength to look forward to another day.

He remembered as he watched your fingers dance on the keys, the first time you met. It wasn't that special. He just saw you on the internet as he monitored his own social media presence, posting stuff about Seventeen and what not. He found your comments funny, your reactions interesting, that he found himself going through your posts every day. He knew he'd love to be your friend if he could.

Yet being an idol wasn't easy. You were so close yet so far away. It wasn’t as easy as typing the words ‘hey i wanna be your friend’ to just another person. His name held weight and Jihoon knew that. With his workload and all the responsibilities he had in his hands, he just couldn’t tell you what he felt. As he listened to your voice reverberating with the acoustics of his studio, he remembered how it took him years to finally stir up the courage and to finally see the opportunity to talk to you.

He was glad he did. If he hadn’t, his heart wouldn’t feel as full as it has been since he met you.

“If you’re really Woozi of Seventeen, then post a picture of yourself in Weverse and in the captions write what’s the last anime you’ve watched.” Jihoon remembered you telling him over chat, it was nerve-wracking back then but it felt silly now. Of course, you can’t just trust a random person claiming himself to be an idol. There were a lot of those these days.

“Let’s be friends first,” you wrote to him with a heart and a smiley face emoji back then. “I want to get to know you.”

“Don't read the last page, but I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away…”

Jihoon gazed at you, even then and until now, you were still beautiful in his eyes. No matter how many songs he’d composed about you, the emotions that reside in his chest would never run dry. The way you laugh, the way you talk, the way you’d do just about anything—he only had you in his eyes. Yet things weren’t always roses and butterflies.

You were so frustrated at him at that time when he had gotten scared of his own emotions. Jihoon knew, deep inside, that he had grown to love you over chats on SNS; your witty sarcasm and wonderful conversations were like water and sunlight to the love growing, rooting deeper and deeper into his heart.

He wasn’t unfamiliar to this feeling, yet he had been betrayed by this same emotion in the past and he wished he’d never had to be again this time. He was frightened that you could easily leave him, broken and empty, like the others did. Admittingly, he had lost hope for a love that was unconditional. He didn’t believe that there would be anyone out there who could love him wholeheartedly as much as he did, even through his flaws and his mistakes.

But you suddenly popped into his life, unaware of how much power you hold over him.

“You annoy me so much!” you told him over one fateful video call. “Jihoon, I feel so confused, you know? What am I really to you? Do you want to be just friends or do you want something more? If you want to stay as friends, then fine! I won’t force you. But that doesn’t mean I’d wait for you forever when you’re ready to take this to another step.”

He didn’t enjoy fighting with you. Not at all. Yet he was scared and stuck and didn’t know what to do. Being more meant more risks of hurting you unintentionally.

“But I can’t decide, Y/N! Dating means people will talk, and I don’t want them to talk about you! But I can’t just make everything I feel about you disappear!” he replied, and you were taken aback. “But if letting you go is the price I have to pay for your peace, then I don’t mind hurting.”

Tears were already threatening to slide down your cheeks, and if only you knew how much it pained him to see you like that back then. To hear you trip on your words, to hold back small sobs as you tried to find coherent words to keep the conversation going, it felt like a thousand knives piercing through him.

“Stop that…please. Do you think I won’t feel anything when you say that?” you replied. “Jihoon, I can understand where you’re coming from but don’t ever think that you’re the only one carrying this relationship, or whatever this is. For this to work, you have to share your burdens with me, you have to trust me, to depend on me.”

“I know that all your life, you’re used to doing everything by yourself, and I’m no different. We’ve achieved so many things just by ourselves. But we can’t be like this forever. A relationship isn’t just you or just me. It’s us both. So lean on me, let me carry those heavy feelings and I’d do the same with you. I want this to work, Jihoon. I don’t want to give up.”

Even if it was only through some shitty PC screen that he could see you, it didn’t diminish the weight of those words. He could feel it back then, he could still feel it right now as you played on the piano, singing a simple song—you were the one he wanted, tomorrow and forevermore.

“You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi, I can tell that it's going to be a long road…”

Jihoon would forever be thankful for you. Everything that you did for him, even if unintentionally on your part. He couldn’t admit how much he appreciates you in his life—through early morning calls when you were still far apart, and now through your warm presence in his studio as he worked.

“I’m considering moving there in the next year or so,” you suddenly told him over a phone call as you did your work. “Now that I’m breaking through the Korean webcomic scene, I think it’s better to stay close to my audience. And I think it’s better that we can finally be together, geographically at least.”

He could still remember it as fresh as that day. His heart began beating so fast, a wide grin broke out on his lips. He was worried that it’ll be too much for you to handle, but he had learned as your relationship progressed, that you’re someone who doesn’t get pushed back by hurdles so easily. Besides, you had him.

Jihoon was glad that he can now keep you closer more than ever.

It wasn’t easy, like everything else in life. But there was nothing the both of you couldn’t handle. It took so much silence and deception to hide your relationship from the public—a decision the both of you agreed upon long before. Jihoon knew that the both of you were private people, and more than anything, you didn’t want anyone to become privy to your intimate relationships.

For the first time, in such a long time, Jihoon was able to hold you close. Gazing at you, at your real eyes, at that time, felt surreal. Jihoon always thought he knew almost everything about you, yet he had never anticipated that there were still a lot of things about you which he hadn’t discovered yet.

He never had thought how warm your touch was, how bright your grin was when you were scheming some prank, how loud your voice got when you were so passionate about something, how soft your lips were when you finally kissed for the first time. No matter how much technology brought you two together, nothing compared to actual, real life affection shared between lovers.

“I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe or if you strike out and you're crawling home...”

Jihoon remembers, as you sang, how you silently embraced him on nights when he felt the world was too heavy on his shoulders. You wouldn’t say anything to him until he would open up; patiently waiting as you tapped an irregular beat on his back. As easily as that, you’d erase all the stress that he had accumulated over time.

You didn’t need to say anything grand or moving, or make all of his problems disappear. Your simple gestures were already enough. You were already enough for him.

“I don’t deserve you, Y/N,” he whispered to you one night as he buried his face on your shoulder. “You’re everything that I want, but I’m not sure if I’m giving you everything that you want.”

You giggled, sighing as you brushed your fingers through his newly dyed hair.

“You don’t have to worry, Jihoon. You’ve given me so much that you never even realized it.”

He pouted, not liking how vague you were. “Like what?”

“Aren’t you just conveniently forgetting how many songs you’ve written for me?” you replied, a smirk on your lips as you twirled a lock of his around your finger.

“But…those are just songs! It’s not as special as the things you’ve done for me…”

“Don’t underestimate them, Ji,” you told him as you pulled back, cupping his cheeks and looking into his eyes. “I know how important music is to you, how it’s an extension of your feelings, and to be a part of it is something I’d consider meaningful.”

For a moment, Jihoon gazed at you; his eyes holding so much emotion. There it was that he knew—he was truly, deeply, madly in love with you.

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you…”

Feeling a strong urge, he leaned into you, capturing your lips into a deep and passionate kiss. Everything, everything that he felt for you at that time, he poured into that kiss, making you gasp for air. You cling to him for support, wholly surprised at his sudden intensity, yet not unwelcome at all.

As the both of you pulled away, Jihoon once again returned to your arms, allowing himself to be vulnerable before you.

“I truly don’t deserve you,” he whispered on your shoulder..

“After that incredible kiss?” you teased, “Statement denied.”

Jihoon groaned and you chuckled.

“I know you’re overthinking again, so I’ll say it clearly. You’re more than I ever wanted, Lee Jihoon.”

You paused, patting his head, tightening your arms around him.

“Whenever you call just to check up on me despite your busy schedule, whenever you share funny stories about the members, whenever you act cute and pouty when I ask you to do aegyo for me…what else…?”

He grunted disapprovingly at your comment and you giggled. “I don’t act cute.”

“You do, you know? You’re naturally and inherently cute,” you replied. “You’re cute when you make ramyeon for me even when I just eat the noodles, you’re cute when you offer to hold my bag or open the door for me, or when you insist on paying for dinner, and you’re so cute when you hold me close whenever I feel down and insecure about myself and my work.”

Jihoon was silent, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He thought you didn’t really catch on those little things he did, but he had underestimated your memory and your powers of observation.

“There’s a lot more I can say, you know? I should make a list for you and maybe stick it on your desk whenever you begin to question yourself again.”

He snorted. “No, thank you. The members would see it and I don’t want them to.”

“I’ll do it when you annoy me,” you joked, despite your words. “Now, I hope I’ve reassured your worries for tonight.”

Snuggling against your shoulder, Jihoon smiled. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere…”

As your words fell like chants into his ears, Jihoon was mesmerized by the image of you singing, his eyes wandering. A bitter memory relapsed into his mind, and a reminder that not everything was golden in your paradise.

It was a cold January night, snow had finally ceased falling at one in the morning. The both of you were inside his studio just like normal; a habit the two of you took comfort in. He was holding your hand tight, keeping it warm with his hands in his pocket, as you scrolled on your phone.

For a while, it felt normal. The sounds of the clock ticking, the gentle thrumming of your heartbeat, the soft breaths you both shared. Yet, just like that, everything gradually became colder. It wasn’t the actual temperature, but your mood as he watched your expression turn from amused to a deadpan frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, kissing your temple. For some reason, he had developed a rather intuitive connection with you over time, where he can easily sense your change of moods despite your lack of expression.

You sighed as you looked up, leaning against him. He wondered if you were pondering on telling him the truth, or just keep your thoughts hidden. Before he could actually express to you his own thoughts, you sighed and nestled yourself on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

“Jihoon, is this all a mistake?” you asked, your voice small.

He blinked, furrowing his brow at the complex question. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve read a few things online.”

It was a simple thing to say, yet Jihoon immediately knew what you were talking about. With a sigh, he adjusted his position where he could wrap his arms around you tightly.

“People always talk, Y/N. We can’t do anything about it but continue living our own lives and ignore them.”

“But what if they reveal our relationship as a scandal and you’re forced to leave Seventeen? They could do that so easily, you know!” You asked with a weak voice, clinging to him tightly. “I don’t want that to happen. I’ll never let that happen, Jihoon!”

“Then we’ll announce before they do,” he easily replied, brushing his fingers through your hair. “Have you forgotten how strong the relationship between Carats and Seventeen is? Of course, some will react negatively, but I know that they would be accepting.”

Once more, Jihoon heard you sigh. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just being selfish by being with you. A lot of people look up to you, Ji, and they all want a piece of your world. I don’t want to be possessive of you but sometimes I just question myself, like what if this is wrong? What if this was a mistake?”

Gazing into your eyes, Jihoon felt all of your concerns. It was already given that dating an idol would be hard, and moments of weakness like these could make your anxieties grow into deeper, darker shadows.

“It’s gonna be weird for me to say this but it’s ok to be selfish,” he told you, his words firm and certain. “Oh god, how do I say this…but look, Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be with me. We’re a couple, and that’s normal. There’s nothing wrong with being a couple.”

“But you’re an idol! If they knew, people would say a lot of bad things about you, and I don’t want that!”

“No matter how many times they say I’m an idol, I’m a human being, first and foremost, and just like everybody else, I have my own personal life which doesn’t revolve around my job. People will always say a lot of bad things about me no matter what I do, but what’s important to me is that I have you by my side, I have everyone by my side. So don’t ever think that this is wrong. You and I are never wrong. Who are they to judge what is wrong or right for me when they don��t know who I am?”

Jihoon realized that after his speech, you turned silent, and instead buried yourself deeper against his chest.

“You’re important to me, Y/N. What other people say doesn’t matter to me anymore. As long as you’re here with me, I’m able to do anything.”

In a quiet voice, Jihoon caught your words. “Thank you for this, Ji…”

“But I stay when it's hard or it's wrong or we’re making mistakes…”

There was always a strange quality to time whenever he was with you. Sometimes time would slow down, sometimes it would pass by in just a blink of an eye. As he began to reminisce instead of actually listening, he realized just how much time had passed between the both of you.

“I want your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day…”

On that certain night, when the both of you were wrapped between sheets, when the bright lights of Seoul reflected on the stark white ceiling, when you were tangled in each others arms, listening to your own fast paced heartbeats after a long night, he remembers you pulling him close, brushing stray locks from his face.

“Jihoon...” you whispered under your breath, your fingers tracing circles on his cheekbones then down his jaw and to his lips. “You’re very handsome, did you know that?”

He smirked at you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “What? You still haven’t gotten enough?”

In an instant your face heated up as you hit his toned chest playfully, making Jihoon laugh. “Ehh...! Don’t mention that now!”

As his devious eyes turned soft, he smiled at you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What is it then?”

You sighed, gazing at the ceiling. “I just thought that someday, I know, things wouldn’t be this way anymore.The spark wouldn’t be as strong as before, the butterflies will eventually disappear. Things would become mundane between us...”

There was a melancholic tone in your words; a detail which hadn’t escape his attention. Yet Jihoon knew that what you were talking about was reality. As the both of you would eventually be consumed by work, by responsibilities, by day to day obligations, it wasn’t a far off thought that the way you felt for each other would turn dim. He knew that, and he feared it.

“But, you know...” you continued, breaking him away from his own thoughts. “Even if that happens, I’m not scared. Even if love do fail us someday, I’m confident that we would still be together, that we can still fix it. Rather than lovers who’re friends, we’re friends who became lovers. Even if you and I will eventually drift off, we still have a strong friendship. And we can rebuild everything from there.”

Jihoon oftentimes wondered how you’re able to get these epiphanies. Your mind was deep and thoughtful, and that was one of the things he loved about you. Conversations with you were never dull as you bounced off ideas at one another. You would always say well-said ideas, often describing how he feels better than he ever will.

“I want to share exciting things with you, Jihoon. I want to be helplessly all over you. I want to feel aroused, flustered, or dying of laughter. But when things get boring or nothing is really happening, or when we have to face bills, chores, or responsibilities, I’ll stay with you.”

A hundredfold, you were better at making him feel loved. He admits that.

“You know, sometimes, I wonder what I’ve done in my past life for you to choose me,” he replied, a wide grin plastered on his face. “You’re everything that I could ever ask for, Y/N. Even if you don’t have to, you still take care of me so much. I swear I’ll make you happy even if I have to walk through fire or sleep on nails.”

“I don’t think that’ll make me very happy,” you replied, grinning. “But...wanna know what else that could make me happy?”

Jihoon arched an elegant brow at you, his lips curving into a smirk. Ah yes, he definitely knows. “I was absolutely right when I said you still haven’t had enough.”

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you…”

Thinking of how much time has passed, how much the two of you had been through, almost left him in tears. The memories the both of you shared over the years was incredible that it was hard to let them go.

As he watched you finally sing the last few seconds of the song, Jihoon was sure that this moment would become another beautiful memory he would reminisce about one day in the future. It filled his heart, thinking about a pleasant future with you. A long time ago he had sang a song—doubting what kind of future was in store for him, yet now he already knows that it was something bigger, more beautiful that he had ever expected.

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you…”

As the final chord resounded across the room, both your eyes met in soft glances. You smiled at him, the sweetest, most loving smile you could ever muster, and then finally sang:

“...And I will hold on to you.”

Allowing the note to dissipate and disappear, you then turned to Jihoon with a bashful smile on your lips. “Well? Did you like your surprise?”

Already a blushing mess, Jihoon simply burst out giggling as you looked at him in confusion.

“Ya! Why are you laughing?” you exclaimed as you sulked, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt.

Still chuckling, he stood up, pulling you towards his arms as he captured you in a tight embrace. He felt at peace with you more than anywhere.

As it was apparent to you that he was in a rather good mood, you made a bemused smile as you wrapped your arms around him, also laughing on your own.

“What’s gotten into you now?” You asked as he pulled away, now able to gaze into your eyes.

“Nothing. I just thought you’re absolutely cute,” he replied as he cupped your cheeks, squishing them much to your chagrin.

“Seriously, Jihoon! Why’re you so happy?”

“Am I not allowed to be happy now?” he replied, his eyes turning into crescents.

You raised your brows at him with a grin. “You like my song, didn’t you?”

“And what if I did? It was a really nice song, you know.”

This time, it was your turn to burst out into giggles. It was hilarious how Jihoon was being so roundabout with admitting that he liked it; it was incredibly adorable.

“You’re so cute, Hoonie~”

It was no secret that he doesn’t appreciate being cooed at, as he made a small frown upon hearing your nickname for him.

“Now I don’t think I’m so happy anymore.”

“Oh c’mon!” You hit his chest lightly with a chuckle. “Tell me what you really think about it!”

His eyes filled to the brim with endearment for you, Jihoon stared into your eyes, trying to communicate how much he was so thankful that you entered his life.

“I like it. I love it, Y/N,” he replied, caressing your cheek. “It made me remember everything we’ve been through, and how much we’ve grown together.”

“And we’ll continue to the next year and in the future. Thank you for giving me your midnights, Jihoon.”

“My midnights would always be yours, as you will always be my mornings,” he gave you another embrace, embedding the feel of your skin against his, the way your hair brushes through his hands, the sound of your voice and the your scent—he will burn them all into his head so he won’t ever forget how much he loves you.

There were so many words that he could say so he could just express how he was thankful that you became a part of his life, yet none of them seemed fitting to say at that moment. Instead, as Jihoon finally decided upon, that it was best to leave them for future songs and say the words that he really wanted to say for such a long time now.

“I love you.”

-Hyeri

#seventeen #svtcreations #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen woozi #lee jihoon

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jiwonscologne · 4 years

Text

Love is a Triangle

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - ?Part 5?

Pairing: Double B x Reader

Genre: Angst, slight fluff, smut suggestion

Warning: swearing, mentions of cheating

We decided to visit a little fair on their day off. It was a Thursday and the weather was very pleasing, not too hot and not too cold, just on point. Hanbin won two plushies for me and when Jiwon saw that he was so good at those shooting and hitting games, he got competitive and started to play too, which was extremely funny because I watched him get cocky because of our boyfriend and I won one more plushie. We stopped by a food truck on our way out of the marketplace. Hanbin ordered for all of us, and mine and his order were made first. We both got out of the line since there were a lot of people around the truck, and we waited for Jiwon. When he was about to come in our direction, a girl approached him and he widened his eyes and parted his lips, static. I couldn’t hear anything but I didn’t like the way she was smiling nor the way he was reacting to her words. I knew right away that wasn’t a fan. Hanbin saw it too and he widened his eyes just like Jiwon did when he saw her. I am right, they know her.

- Who is she? - I look at Hanbin.

- That’s...Myung-Hee. His first love. - His answer hit like a needle on my chest. Not just what he said, the way he said it concerned me the most. I’m worried since I’ve heard her name before from his mouth, when he told me how Jiwon had such a hard time on forgetting about her. We talked about brief moments on the ‘first love topic’ and everyone knows our first love is the one who stays in your heart forever, the one you can’t erase because it’s our first experience with love itself, which makes it so special. It’s normal but if the ending is bad...that stays, and stinks. Jiwon had that bad luck.

- What is she doing here? - I ask, innocently and with a firm, slightly threatening voice.

- Why don’t you ask him? - Hanbin smiles poorly at Jiwon finding our way back to us with a rushed pace.

- Hey. Here’s my food. - He smiles, raising his fish cake, and we start walking to go home.

I want to talk, even though I’m waiting for him to speak without making me ask. Hanbin and I create a suffocating silence and he finally breaks it. - I know you saw it. - He looks at us but we limit ourselves by watching our steps. - And I’m shocked like you. She’s...I don’t know why she’s here, I thought she was living in Australia. I didn’t even know what to say to her when I saw her.

- But, she did know what to say to you. - I insinuate.

- Yeah...

- What did she say? - Hanbin faces him.

- She asked how I was doing and she told me sometimes she checks on me when I’m trending on social media.

I nod. I feel so powerless. I know he’s going to think about her the rest of the week now. I know I’m going to, too. Why did she appear again? Why did she talk to him? Doesn’t she understand how much she hurt him back then? It’s unbelievable how we forget about someone and they come back to remind us.

Jiwon told us how she had to check that it was him before she approached him since “he changed so much” after six years. I mean, duh, what did she expect? Hanbin asked how he was feeling after seeing her and Jiwon answered he was nostalgic and surprised.

I had some questions myself, yet I kept quiet until we got home and had some privacy.

- Summer, you’ve been silent all the way home. Are you okay? - Jiwon anticipates.

- The reason you broke up… - I want to complete my sentence however he does it for me.

- Was because I loved her more than she loved me. I told you that.

- Yes, although...did she cheat on you with the other guy?

- The other guy she started dating after me?

- Yes.

- You know...I wasted two years of my life asking me all kinds of questions about our relationship. Like you right now, I didn’t understand what she said to me. When she was breaking up with me, she told me and I quote “...my love for you has faded. I can tell you still love me and I could always tell that you’ve always loved me more than I loved you. And I once told you that your expectations were too high to see the truth. I told you that I wasn’t who you saw but eventually you convinced me to love you, but that’s over now.” With this, you can go on various paths of thoughts. I thought she was cheating on me too, but maybe she wasn’t. She was right, I was blind on my love for her. I ignored all the times she could’ve supported me and she chose not to. I loved her with everything I had and it was clearly a mistake because she didn’t do the same for me.

- Ji… - I hug him and he chuckles.

- It’s okay, it happens. I was young, it’s water under the bridge.

- Is it? - Hanbin asks.

- Yes. I love you now, the past doesn’t matter. This made me find you guys and I’m grateful for that.

- I love you. You know that we love you equally, right? - I make sure he hears it.

- Yes, bae. I never doubted you. - That answer made me instantly in a better mood.

- Now that we’re done with this conversation, Chanwoo invited us to go bowling tonight. - Hanbin takes his phone out of the pocket. - What do I answer?

- Tell him no! - Jiwon startles me with the exclamation.

- Why? - I raise my eyebrow.

- This is our first day-off in months and he wants to hang out like we don’t see him everyday? - Jiwon rolls his eyes.

- Babe, that’s kind of harsh. Don’t you think? - Hanbin says, surprised by his comment. - Besides, it’s with Jinhwan and Junhoe, too.

- It’s not harsh, I’m just saying I’d prefer to be with my partners today.

- Okay, that’s fine. - I say. I give Hanbin a look to leave Jiwon alone for a little bit.

- Alright, I’ll tell him we can’t go. - Hanbin texts Chanwoo and goes to our bedroom.

He said he’s fine but he’s clearly affected by meeting her again. I don’t blame him, he knows that we’re here for him. I just wish she hadn’t shown up on our lives.

- I have to stop by the broadcasting station to do something. See you later.

- What? I thought we would spend the whole day together. - Jiwon turns to me.

- We still have many hours left when I get back. We can eat dinner and watch a movie after I finish it.

- Hm, okay, but give me a kiss before you go. - I lean at him on the couch to reach his lips. - Hanbin I’m gonna head out! - I scream. He comes running to the hall, now with his sweatpants instead of his jeans.

- What? You’re leaving?

- I need to do some work, I’ll be back before dinner.

- No… - He says lowly.

- Bye baby. - I kiss him and get out.

I choose to drive myself to work instead of calling our driver. It will take less time and I just want to finish it as soon as possible.

Fortunately I had to do this, because after I saw her, she’s the only thing in my mind and I have to distract myself, otherwise I’ll go crazy. The way this is affecting Jiwon is worrying me: Answering without thinking and then being clingy with us. It’s like he’s frustrated with others but trying to compensate it with giving us attention. It’s probably his manner to tell us we have nothing to worry about and that he loves us so we don’t need to be jealous. It won’t work, but at least it’s kind of cute to see how he cares about our feelings. He’s so selfless sometimes…

I finish everything in time for dinner. When I get home, Jiwon is cooking and Hanbin is setting the table.

- Welcome home! - They greet me.

- It smells good. - I direct myself to the kitchen.

- It’s done, let’s eat. - Jiwon turns the stove off and takes the two pans to the table.

- Did you do a broadcast today? We didn’t turn the radio on. - Hanbin grabs a full spoon of kimchi rice.

- You know I don’t talk in them, I just prepare the songs.

- I know, but I like to see everything that you do.

- You’re so lame sometimes. - I laugh.

- I’m in love. - He’s right. Hanbin’s first loves are me and Jiwon. He says things like these because he never said it to someone before, he never experienced this, it’s a fresh love, a new emotion to him. Sometimes that scares me.

The rest of the week passes by smoothly. iKON is preparing for their comeback and I’m working harder since a lot of people on my job are on vacation so I have to broadcast full night sessions because no one will be there to entertain the listeners with conversation.

I’m grabbing my coffee after work, which means it’s 6:45 pm. I stop by a newsstand to see if it has the monthly magazine that I read yet, since it’s the beginning of the month, but instead, I read something that catches me by surprise. I have to check it three times before I believe it. I look at the picture, yet my heart is telling me it’s not true. As soon as I notice the owner of the place is about to recognize me, I cover my face and walk away in a fast pace.

9:43 am

- Bobby, you have to be careful. I’m warning you, I don’t want something like this to happen again. Don’t make yourself frowned upon, you’re a good guy. - The YG CEO says.

- Yes, I’m sorry, sir. I won’t. - Jiwon leaves the office and goes back to the room where the iKon members are working at, which is chaotic with loud whispers and hand gestures:

“I don’t know how he thought he wouldn’t get caught.”

Jiwon sees Jinhwan doing a facepalm.

“Shut up now, he’s coming!”

As soon as he enters, the chaos turns to a tense and awkward silence.

When Jiwon looks at Hanbin, he has a death glare on his face that Jiwon only sees when Hanbin is super annoyed. That’s how he knows he messed up. However, he composes himself together. - Okay, let’s get to work. - He joins his hands together and the group prepares themselves.

Donghyuk plays the song so they can practice. The movements are slow at the beginning and there’s no trouble until the song grows and Hanbin goes in front of the mirror to watch them dance.

- Junhoe, keep going. - He says, and after that notices Jiwon isn’t doing it right. - Jiwon, slow down. - He does as told, but then he goes off beat again and his movements don’t match with the rest of the group. - Jiwon. - He calls him out once more.

He sighs and tries again.

- Jiwon, I told you to slow down, can’t you hear the rhythm? - Hanbin’s annoyed.

- I’m sorry. - He apologizes, staring at his feet.

- Do you want to play it again? - Junhoe asks.

- Yes please. - They do and Jiwon is out of focus once again. It’s understandable since he was just scolded at, but Hanbin loses his patience. - I know you’re not listening to the song. Can you try to focus? We’re having trouble because of you.

- I can’t. - Jiwon is static and frustrated.

- You can, we’ve practiced this dance a million times.

- Should I stop playing it? - The song keeps playing and Junhoe sees everyone stopped because of them two.

- No, let’s continue, Jiwon just do it again. - Hanbin seems careless.

- I told you I can’t right now. Please listen to me. - Jiwon’s sad voice is getting strict.

- Guys, maybe we should come back later. - Jinhwan realizes the fight is becoming personal and wants to step back.

- You can’t but you have to, we’re working. - Hanbin keeps his figure.

- Please let me talk to you first.

- We’re practicing, we’re group mates right now, this is not the place to talk, we’ll talk at home. - Hanbin reminds him of their situation. - You’ve been keeping this secret since last week, can’t you wait a little longer? - Hanbin starts to get worked up.

- Look Hanbin, I’m sorry! - He gets closer to him and the boys watch them quietly. - I’m sorry, alright? - He says, loud.

- We should go, come on. - Yunhyeong whispers and they discreetly leave the room.

- Why didn’t you tell us you were having lunch with her? - Hanbin shoots.

- I...didn’t want you to be worried. I knew you would be like this. I knew it!

- Of course I would react like this, she’s your ex! Worse, she’s your first love. You know what that means and I know it too, I’m feeling it right now! - Hanbin yells. - Just tell me what were you thinking when you didn’t tell us you were meeting her again. Tell me how could you make me find out this way. - Hanbin rambles. - I knew something was up yesterday! I knew it! You avoided me and looked the other way all morning and when I asked where you were when lunch time came, nobody knew where you were! They thought you were with Donghyuk but then he appeared so I thought “oh, maybe he forgot something at home”. - Hanbin looks him in the eyes waiting for a regretful answer.

- I didn’t know you were going to find out this way, I didn’t see any paparazzi. I was going to tell you…- Jiwon’s calm and failing voice is irritating Hanbin.

- You were going to tell me when? These people are everywhere so these things happen! They want society to see our flaws! Oh God, Jiwon. - Hanbin starts walking back and forth. - Do you know what I thought this morning when I heard this? I didn’t believe it, I didn’t believe someone could be that dumb, seriously, Donghyuk had to show me the picture so I could see you two were really together. You know you’re on the papers, right? Social media too. I guess you know that, considering the CEO talked to you. - Hanbin looks at him. - Jesus, you realize Summer probably saw it too? She works with the media, Jiwon. On the fucking radio. And if she didn’t see it yet, she will.

- I know...do you think she really saw it? - Jiwon’s guilt is growing and his face is sadder. - She will think I cheated on her...and on you… - Hanbin covers his face, concerned. Jiwon sighs and starts crying. - What do I do…? - Hanbin subtly looks at him.

- Babe you can still call her. Maybe she didn’t see it, I mean, it came to us first because it’s about you. It’s YG’s business.

- But it’s everywhere, like you said, if she didn’t see it, she will. Besides, I don’t want to do this over the phone. - Jiwon runs his fingers through his hair. - Oh God. - He gets up, wondering around, lost.

Someone of the staff knocks on the door to warn them to continue the schedule. Jiwon wipes his tears off.

- We’ll talk better at home. - Hanbin grabs Jiwon’s shoulder.

7:03 pm

I get home, alone, devastated by the news I kept overthinking on the car. The moment I drop my keys in the little plate, I let my body sink in the couch and I wait for them. I turn the TV on but I don’t pay attention to even what channel I’m watching. I limit on calming myself down so when they get here, I don’t seem too upset since I want to understand what Jiwon has to say. About an hour and a few minutes later, I hear the door open and the tinkling of the keys along with some whispers. They get to the living room and I welcome them, getting up off the couch.

- How was your day, baby? - They give me a kiss on a cheek.

- Good. - I answer. - How was yours?

- Wait, you don’t want to specify what you did? - Jiwon says, slightly nervous.

- No, it was a normal day. - I fake my answer. - How was your day?

Hanbin gives Jiwon a look so he can go ahead and tell me. - We...worked! - Jiwon smiles.

- Oh. - I fake a smile.

- Yeah...but Summer, I have to tell you something. - He gulps and takes my hand to sit us down. - Last week, when I saw Myung-Hee, she later on Friday asked me to have lunch with her yesterday...so I did. I just wanted to know how she was doing and maybe be in peace with her on my head. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys, I clearly paid for it this morning. Everyone is upset at me on the company and they’re right, I wasn’t careful and I didn’t think.

- “Be in peace with her” ? - Hanbin whispers in an irritated voice.

- I know. You didn’t. - They look at me, confused. - I know everything. - I nod. - I read it on a magazine after work. I didn’t know till I got my coffee. I know what you’re thinking, I don’t usually drink coffee at that time but today I did, and now I wish I didn’t. It’s funny how things work.

- Summer, I’m sorry. I feel so bad, are you upset? - His concerned face surfaces.

- I’m upset you hid this from us. How could you? You lied to us, Jiwon. Let me ask you, if it wasn’t out by the paparazzis, were you going to tell us at all?

- I was. Yesterday. - He looks away.

- Oh really? Because I don’t recall you telling me this yesterday.

- I… - He stutters. - Hanbin was tired and when we got home I couldn’t just…

- So you waited for the magazines to do it for you? - I pop a senseless question.

- I didn’t know there were magazines in the first place!

- Oh then next time, when you meet her again, make sure, yeah? - I cross my arms and I get up, looking to the other side of the room.

- Baby… - Jiwon reaches for me and tries to hug me but I push him away. - I’m not going to meet her again. - He grabs my arms and looks at me.

- Like I could believe you after you lied. - I look away.

- He’s not. - Hanbin finally breaks his silence.

- How do you know? Why are you so quiet? - I start shooting questions against him. - You knew about this, didn’t you? - Hanbin frowns by my question. - You boys always exclude me from everything. Just because I’m not with you all day like you two are.

- Summer, you know that’s not true! And I didn’t know! I found out when the staff asked how I was doing after “the Bobby thing”. I was clueless. I felt exactly like you did but it was this morning! You have to understand I had all day to think about this.

I feel my eyes get watery and it’s not long until tears start running down my cheeks. He’s right, my feelings are more fresh, my anger is building up and I’m being jealous for every little thing I can find.

- Baby. - Jiwon calls me, worried and regretful.

- I’m sorry, Bin. - I wipe my tears. - It was probably harder for you. - I recognize my mistake to judge him. - Could you work today at all? Everyone was probably asking you all sorts of questions or giving you looks. - I get concerned.

- Yes, they were. - Jiwon watches us talk. - But I had to pretend everything was okay so we could keep the schedule going. I admit in the morning we fought, but we’re talking better here with you at home.

- Babes, listen to me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.

- Jiwon you have to understand you didn’t put just you at risk. You put you, me, Summer and iKON. - He enumerates the amount of people with his fingers. - You saw how difficult it was to practice today. I know I said this already but you were so dumb.

- I know. I apologized to the CEO.

- Irresponsible. - He continues. - Just because of her. What did you get from this lunch, besides problems, anyway?

- Yes, what was that “be in peace with her in my head”? - I come back to this. - You assured to us last week that the past didn’t matter, so why did you say this earlier?

- I just wanted to know if I could see her as a friend and not someone who broke my heart for the first time. I know I said the past doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t, but sometimes she comes to my mind and I feel insecure. I feel like the 16 year-old boy that met a pretty girl and fell in love with her, even though she didn’t fell for him.

Hanbin and I stay quiet for moment to take in what we heard.

- Ji, you know you grew up. And you know we love you.

- You’re not a boy. - Hanbin follows my sentences. - You are a wonderful man. I know this because we grew a lot together, I saw you become this confident and handsome person. Don’t make yourself think you’re the same as you were when you met her. You changed, for the best. Forget her. Forget the 16 year-old boy. Trust yourself now, and trust us. Trust that we love you and that you love us, that’s all that matters, nothing else.

Jiwon smiles by Hanbin’s beautiful words. - I’m sorry. I will say it until you both forgive me. I promise I won’t lie to you ever again even if I have the tendency to do it, I won’t hide things from you. I fucked up but I learned my lesson. I hate to see you mad at me.

I pout. - Alright, I forgive you.

Jiwon opens his arms for a hug, hoping we can accept it.

- Me too. - Hanbin hugs him and I join in.

- I hate it when you don’t tell me stuff. - I say, with one of my cheeks buried on Hanbin’s back, making my voice sound more innocent and cute.

- I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you feel left out. Ever. I love you so much. - Jiwon gives me a kiss on the cheek. - I won’t embarrass you like that again either, Bin. I’m going to apologize to the members tomorrow for delaying our practice. - He sighs. - I feel like a weight just lifted off my shoulders, thank you for forgiving me.

- Okay Jiwon, it’s forgotten, let’s just move on and relax and go to bed.

- You’re already sleepy? - Jiwon asks, suspicious.

- No. - I give him a smile.

Hanbin looks at Jiwon, takes off his shirt and goes after me, walking to our bedroom and I can hear Jiwon rushing himself to catch us before we start.

#kpop poly #ikon polyamory #ikon scenarios #ikon double b #jiwon fluff au #hanbin fluff au #hanbin au #bobby fluff #bobby fluff au #double b #ikon fic #ikon imagine #Bobby au #kpop au #kpop scenarios #ikon au #ikon fluff au #ikon angst

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somebridgesburn · 5 years

Text

see you around

3,808 words

See, it`s always been Indy and Shawn.

They`ve had that friendship.

That ride-or-die, never-heard-of-personal-space, attached-to-the-hip friendship. That getting-drunk- together-for-the-first-time and holding-back-your-hair-when-you-throw-up friendship. That sneaking-out-together and you`re-basically-family and it`s-2am-but-I`m-lonely-can-I-come-over? Friendship.

That friendship everyone knew would turn out to be far more than that.

And it did.

After years of teasing and denying and silently pining, Shawn kissed her.

It was New year`s Eve and it was already four hours past midnight and everyone was passed out on the floor and her hair was a mess but he grabbed her by the waist and it was fucking perfect.

They were friends and then they were lovers.

Their relationship was something precious. It was snorting laughter and random trips to the grocery store and sarcasm and staying in bed `til noon. It was getting drunk on red wine and sloppy sex and giggles and forhead kisses.

It was everything Shawn needed when there were so many papparazzi in front of his appartement that he couldn`t go out and it was everything Shawn wanted when he spend his nights surrounded by girls, clad in fancy dresses, with fake eyelashes and even more fake personalities.

It was everything he wanted for the rest of his life.

That`s what he knew when he came home to her, fast asleep on the couch, with no makeup on, netflix show stil playing in the backround or when he watched her sitting at the kitchen table back in Pickering, gushing with Aaliyah over god-knows-what.

They were in love.

They were so in love, until they weren`t.

It wasn`t an ugly break-up. There was no screaming or insults or slamming doors. Of course there wasn`t.

They were Indy and Shawn and no matter what happened, they still loved each other. They still respected each other and they were still stuck with each other.

Looking back, it almost happened too silently.

Her whole world didn`t crash down on her; it slipped away silently. With a last tight-lipped, longing smile and a “I`ll see you around” and the ever so faint sound of their, no her, front door closing.

She knew she`d “see him around” because their parents` houses were only a couple foot away from each other and they had far too many mutual friends.

Also, it wasn`t long until Karen was going to host her annual dinner party and Indy knew there was no way she could get away with skipping it.

She also knew that Shawn was most likely to have someone new adorning his side. She wasn`t dumb. Shawn was handsome and charming and endearing and he could be as heartbroken as he wanted to be right now, but she knew exactly that he was going to find someone new in the blink of an eye.

Her heartbreak over their breakup wasn`t equivalent to that kind of heart-wrenching, sobbing heartbreak that was portrayed in movies or songs or on social media.

It just kind of... felt wrong.

Like, she had expected to end up with Shawn`s last name (and maybe a few of his kids in a nice suburban neighbourhood), everyone had.

And now, someone else was going to. She was never going to walk down the aisle, starring in his eyes nor grow old with him.

Her whole future didn`t look anything like it did a few hours ago. Heck, her whole life didn`t.

And she did feel her heart sting a little at these thoughts but mostly she just went through the motions. Waking up, getting dressed, going to work, coming back home, tucking herself in.

A little bit mindlessly, a little bit apathetic, but at least without a breakdown.

She has become good at it, those past weeks.

Pretending not to notice the absence of his guitar strumming when she got home or how the condo was far more tidy without his stuff sprawled all over the place.

She`s become good at it, trying to live without him.

But then all of the sudden, it`s a Tuesday morning and she is making coffee and she can`t stop her hands from shaking. And then there are sobs escaping her throat and tears streaming down her face and she sits on the kitchen floor until she can catch her breath again. And then she starts crying again.

When she is finished, she calls Shawn. She doesn`t call him as a lover or ex-lover, but as a friend.

It feels oddly good to hear his voice, comforting even.

She can tell he`s surprised she called him when he picks up. She can`t blame him. Heck, she`s surprised herself she called him.

They don`t really talk though. He`s on his way to the studio and she still doesn`t like him driving when he`s on the phone, even though he assures her it`s fine.

“But, like, promise we`re gonna talk later, right? I know this is bad timing and all, but I really wanna talk to you. We could like, talk tonight when I get home”

She can imagine him; driving down the 39, looking over his shoulder, gripping at the steering wheel. She almost misses the little “I miss talking to you” he quietly adds and she thinks her heart skips a beat. She knows it shouldn`t.

So she replies, “Yeah, sure”, and lets out a breath she doesn`t realise she had been holding.

They don`t talk to each other for two months.

Indy is squeezed into her seat next to fairly familiar, middle-aged ladies in the Mendes` living room. They have been questioning her about her career path and college major and lord knows what else in that annoying nasally voice the entire night and when they got an answer out of her they proceeded to critic it in any way, shape or form possible.

It is safe to say, Indy`s nerves are running dry.

She remembers she used to love Karen`s dinner parties. She doesn`t really remember why though.

Another hour in, Indy manages to sneak off to the bathroom. Or at least she thinks she did, until she runs into Karen.

“Well, hello honey. Trying to escape my party?”, the older lady greets her with a smug smile.

Indy only smiles sheepishly in response. Somehow her words get stuck in her throat and for the first time ever since she was four, she feels slightly nervous talking to Karen. She doesn`t know exactly if Shawn told his parents they broke up, nor how they reacted to the news.

But according to the warm smile Karen gives her while she takes Indy by the hand and leads her back into the kitchen, she figures he either didn`t tell them or they didn`t care.

Indy watches Karen preparing another dish, as she sits on the kitchen counter and it gives her some kind of solace for the first time this evening.

Being in the Mendes` house after the break-up is unexpectedly hard. It`s probably all of the memories coming back or whatever but Indy would be lying if she says the break-up itself didn`t turn out to be harder than she expected.

“So”, Karen broke the silence, “you haven`t been around in some time.”

Indy swallowes. She doesn`t want to have this conversation. Again.

“Shawn and I broke up.”

She remembers telling her parents.

It was the first time she said it out loud and they were distraught. She couldn`t really blame them. They probably had expected Shawn to be their future son-in-law but they weren`t helping the situation either; bombarding Indy with questions she didn`t have answers to and urging her to tell them what exactly happened, when she didn`t even really know herself.

“I know, sweetie. I`m sorry.”, Shawn`s mother answeres without looking up from the pudding she is making, “It doesn`t matter though, you know.”

“What?”, Indy`s head perks up.

“That the two of you broke up. “, Karen stops stirring and turns to look at Indy, “It shouldn`t stop you from coming over. Or being friends in general. You know, I love having you around.”

Indy is kind of baffled at that. She knows the Mendes family are the most kind-hearted people she has ever met but inviting your son`s ex-girlfriend to your home, even after they broke up, seems kind of next level, even for the Mendes.

But Indy knows she`s always been more family than anything else, even when Shawn and her were still just friends.

Karens gives her another warm smile before she turns back to stirring the pudding and, almost to herself, mutters, “a hundred times more than that other girl.”

That catches Indy`s attention. And she knows she shouldn`t ask and she knows she will not want to know the answer to that question she is about to ask but she still does.

“What girl?”

She can tell by Karen`s sigh, whoever that girl is, she is definitely not Mama Mendes favorite and Indy feels weirdly pleased by that.

“Oh, you know, Shawn`s been seeing that girl.”

Bam. There it is. The punch in the gut Indy basically asked for. She sucks in a breath before edging Karen to continue.

“It`s... hm I don`t know. I guess...”, Indy wonders what the deal with that new girl is, when even Karen struggles to find nice words for her, “but as long as she makes him happy, who am I to judge?”, Karen concludes.

So she makes him happy. Great.

“He`s actually bringing her tonight.”

“I thought he wasn`t coming?”

Indy is alarmed now. Meeting her ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend.

Hell, no.

“He is. He didn`t make it in time but he said they`d be here for dessert. Which should be... about now.”

Karen is finishing filling the pudding into fancy little bowls that are going to be served to the guests outside. And when they are going to be served, Shawn is going to be here.

Indy feels sick now. She excuses herself to the toilet and walks down the hall in a daze.

She feels kind of stupid, really. Here she was, wondering if Shawn even told his mum about their break-up when he was already happily moved on.

She locks herself in the bathroom and lets her back slide down the door, until her bum meets the cold tiles.

And then the realization finally hits her.

Shawn is with someone new.

He has kissed someone else, he has probably slept with someone else, he is falling in love with someone else.

Someone that isn`t her.

And it hurts. It aches in her chest and if Indy hasn`t felt heartbroken before, she sure does now.

She shouldn`t be so fazed by it though. She should have seen this coming. And she did, she thought she did but somehow that didn`t prepare her for the ache in her chest and the sobs wailing in her throat now.

She would have thought, he`d let himself more time though.

It`s been like, what, three months? And she was still picking up the pieces.

It´s been three months, Shawn is already moved on and she was still cleaning up their mess; sitting on his parents` bathroom floor and crying like a baby.

It is kind of embarrassing to admit how hung up Indy still is on the break-up. Sure, the first week had been hard but she somehow got through it. It had been the weeks after that, that took their toll on her. Hours of crying and breaking down and looking at old pictures left Indy feeling completely drained.

And now, knowing that while she was crying her heart out, Shawn was hooking up with some new girl left her feeling like utter crap.

She feels like crying. She feels like screaming. She feels like doing anything but sitting on the Mendes` bathroom floor, trying to keep her sobs in.

But life doesn`t always get you what you want and Indy is interrupted by a knock on the door.

So she gets up and unlocks the door, when she remembers she didn`t even pretend to wash her hands and now the person outside probably thinks she`s really gross and -

It`s Shawn.

The person standing outside is Shawn (of course it is) and Indy thinks she might forget how to breath for a little moment.

He was looking her straight in the eyes, choking out a little “Hey”.

Indy on the other hand, has never been the smooth one of the two of them.

So she just stands and stares.

And stares.

With her mouth opening and closing, frantically searching for something, anything to say, but her mind just went blank.

Usually it would have been funny.

Shawn would have made a sarcastic comment, would have made fun of her and they would have laughed it of and Shawn would probably have still teased her with it after months. But they aren`t in love anymore nor friends and Indy thinks that this might be the most awkward situation she has ever been in.

So she slips past him and rushes back to the living room (and she touches his arm and she can`t breathe for a moment but it doesn`t matter).

But seemingly, Karma really wants to mess with her tonight because the sight she is greeted by upon entering the room, is even worse than facing her ex-boyfriend.

In the middle of the room there is a blonde woman, presumably the girls Karen had been talking about.

In addition to that she is currently hugging Nana Mendes, which makes the whole situation ten times worse.

Indy had always been Nana Mendes favourite. Aaliyah and Shawn used to joke about her loving Indy more than her own grandchildren and admittedly, Indy loved every second of it.

Not having a grandmother anymore herself since she was nine, she had taken comfort in having a shaky hand to hold once in a while or someone to spoil her with baked goods or to talk shit to about Shawn.

She hasn`t even seen Shawn`s new girl`s face and all of her resolutions on being a fair sport and nice ex-girlfriend are out the window.

And then, she hears the toilet flush and a lock turning and Indy knows it is time to get out of here. If she didn`t want to meet Shawn before, she sure as hell doesn`t now, after their awkward bathroom encounter. And maybe she also doesn`t want to see him with this new girl.

In hopes of being able to sneak out later, she flees to the kitchen; only to be met with Aaliyah.

“She`s awful, isn`t she?” Turning her head, Indy sees that Aaliyah isn`t even looking at her; her eyes are fixed on the blonde girl in the living room.

That is something that she loves about Aaliyah; she doesn`t talk to Indy as the poor ex-girlfriend but as a friend who she is gossiping to about her brother`s newest fling.

She`s family to Aaliyah. Still.

She takes comfort in knowing Aaliyah doesn`t like the new girl either.

Indy huffs in response and turns her head back to Shawn`s new girlfriend, while leaning against the door frame of the kitchen.

For the first time, Indy can actually really look at her.

She is rather tall. And pretty. Like, extremely pretty.

With her shiny blonde hair and long legs and pointy nose, she is that kind of Instagram-beautiful that Indy had been sure only exists in photo-shopped pictures on social media. That girl probably is some Instagram model.

And she fits perfectly next to Shawn. Indy knows it the moment she laid eyes on her and her theory is confirmed when he wrapps an arm around her and greets his aunt with an endearing smile.

They fit so well together. Both of them tall, gorgeous; they look like a million dollar couple.

“What`s her name”, Indy asks Aaliyah, who is still standing next to her, watching the girl just as intently as Indy is.

“Maise. Don`t remember her last name.”

She watches the girl as she interactes with different family members, plain jealousy flooding through her veins.

She has that red carpet smile, perfect for being Shawn`s arm candy; something Indy never liked to be.

She shakes her head and turns away.

It`s late. It`s late and the dinner is over and all of the guests are probably gone already.

Indy doesn`t care though. She doesn`t care that she shouldn`t be here anymore because she lost that privilege together with the status of being family three months ago or that she missed the rest of the dinner because she and Aaliyah snug out with two bottles of red and got tipsy (or a little more than that) or that Shawn`s already moved on.

Sitting on the front steps of the Mendes` home and breathing in the chilly summer air, she doesn`t care. For now at least.

She looks up at the night sky.

It reminds her of her seventeenth summer when Shawn and her were still just friends. Friends that snug away from yet another dinner party to look at the stars. She remembers how everything felt so infinite. So everlasting and yet so exciting. Full of chances and opportunities. It hadn`t even been a question if they would always have each other.

When she feels someone sitting down beside her, she tries to convince her mind that it could be Aaliyah, who just left five minutes ago to get a bottle of water, in order to sober both of them up.

But she knows that`s not true. She knows because her heart skips a beat when she feels them sitting down and she knows because she could tell the sound of their breath apart from any other.

She doesn`t need to look over at him. She knows it`s Shawn.

“I saw you made my little sister get drunk.” By the smile in his voice Indy could tell Shawn wasn`t really bothered but rather amused by the situation. He was just messing with her. Just like he used to.

“She did that to herself”, Indy answered with a shrug.

“And you to yourself, eh?”

“Yup” She pops the `p` as she leans back and kicks of her heels, disregarding them in the Mendes` front porch.

She`s positive she isn`t that drunk that anyone would be able to notice it, but it`s Shawn. Shawn who has witnessed her first time getting drunk and her first hangover and the second and the third and many more. He knows her and he knows when she`s drunk.

It were those little hings that used to make her believe that they really were something. Something special. Something that could last.

And now, they don`t matter anymore.

Now he just knows she got drunk on his front steps and it`s embarrassing.

“Indy, look” She knows by the way the tone of his voice changes that he wants to talk about the serious stuff now.

“I just... I don`t know. I know tonight, bringing Maisie, hasn`t been ideal and..., and god, I don`t even know what I want to say. It`s- it`s just, we haven`t talked in such a long time and it feels so weird, you know?”

Indy doesn`t look at him. She doesn`t respond. She just lets him sit there; rambling, helplessly searching for words, running his fingers through his hair.

He knows she`s trying to ignore him, just block him out by proceeding to look up at the stars and not sparring him a single glance.

He doesn`t know she`s looking up because she tries to fight the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes.

“Indy.”

He finally grabs her attention. She turns her head to look at him, stoic expression on her face.

“You`re my best friend”, he sounds desperated, with a hint of exasperation in his voice.

“And I`ll always love you and I`lll always care for you, you know and I`ll-”

“Babe”

Indy doesn`t have to look to know who the voice belongs to. She still does though.

And there she is, Maisie. Standing in the door, hands stemmed into her hips, eying Indy with furrowed brows.

She has never felt so stupid as right now. Half-sitting, half-lying on the front steps, barefoot, drunk and with probably smudged make-up and messy hair. She could basically feel Maise`s judgemetal gaze burning a whole through her dress.

“Are you coming?” the blonde asks Shawn, now completely ignoring Indy`s presence.

“Yeah, just give me a minute”, he half-heatedly answers, before turning back to his ex-girlfriend.

She can hear Maisie huff and close the door again, as Shawn continues.

“I just want everything to be normal again, I just want us to be us again, you know? I miss how we used to be.”

“And I know that I might be asking too much or that it`s too soon or whatever but fuck, I have no idea what I`m doing and I just, I just need you in my life, Indy. I need my best friend.”

He runs his hands through his hair like he always does when he gets frustrated. And Indy wishes, god she wishes that he wouldn`t be with someone right now because all she wants to do is hold him, kiss him, tell him it`s going be alright, they`re going to be alright and-

“Shawn!”, Maisie calls from inside.

And she keeps her mouth shut.

“Yeah, I`m coming.” He stands up, his 6`3 tall frame towering over Indy, before leaning back down to pull her into a hug.

She ignores that she can practically feel her heart jumping out of her chest when he nuzzles into her neck and whispers, “I just want to talk to you again”

And before she can think twice, she murmurs back a faint “Okay”.

But still, Shawn hears it (of course he does). He squeezes her tightly once more before he pulles away with the biggest grin.

“Okay.”, he repeats

“Okay.” Indy can`t help but smile as she looks into his eyes, that are sparkling with joy.

“Shawn! I`m waiting!”, Maisie basically rips the door open, again, destroying the moment.

Shawn gives Indy a last warm smile before turning to his girlfriend, that is standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, and following her. As Maisie sees that Shawn actually is coming this time, she turns on her heel and struts inside again.

Indy stands up, as well. She brushes over her dress with her hands and picks up her heels, before making her way out of the Mendes` front porch and back home, until-

“Indy!” She turns back around to see Shawn already standing inside the house, “Call me, please?”

“I will.”, she respondes with a faint smile, as she feels her stomach twist, at the sight of the former love of her life grinning at her one last time, before going back inside. Going back to a girl that isn`t her.

She never calls him again.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fanfic

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 5 years

Text

Part XV - The Untimely Downfall of Strangers

I knew that the media and the fans and everyone would have questions. But for now, the only sound I could hear was her breathing and the hum of the central air in her house. And that was enough for me.

AN: Y’ALLLLL. Okay. So we’re nearing the end (for now) of this story. I’m thinking one more chapter, so for all of you out there who have been following along the whole time, just a fair warning! Also, if you like this story or like my work--please reblog. So many people have reached out telling me that they love my work but are confused as to why it’s not more popular. I don’t know why--I’m just happy to share it with you all. BUT. If you like my work and think more people should read it, please reblog. I’ll love you forever!!!

wc: 4.8k of moving forward

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THEN - Day 629

“Slow the fuck down, Margot!” Niall shouted from behind me, his words broken up by laughter as I took a sharp left turn, nearly clipping the wall and their crew members who seemed quite annoyed by our level of energy.

I could hear his footsteps behind me, closing in as I looked over my shoulder to gauge the distance between us. I shot past Harry--who was stood in the doorway of the green room, a confused look on his face as he bit into a banana.

“Your girlfriend’s a cheeky little shit,” Niall laughed as I slowed to stop, tossing the cellphone back in Harry’s direction--who barely caught it as he fumbled with the banana.

“What’d she do?” He asked as he stood between us, his mouth full of the fruit he snacked on.

I smiled over at Niall, offering for him to explain the running and yelling and laughing as Harry stepped aside to let us back into the green room. I bent over to gather my hair over my head, twisting a hair tie around it as Niall let out a loud laugh.

“She claims she’s tryna set me up with her friend but she’d sending an embarrassing photo to people I don’t even know,” he pretended to be more upset than he was, the smile visible on his face as he stared at Harry--as if he would do something.

“You’re being a big baby,” I told him, my eyes wide. “You’d like Cara, she’s great. We could all go on a double date and ride off into the sunset and buy houses right next door to each other.”

Niall rolled his eyes at this, grabbing his phone back from Harry as he walked to sit on the couch. He muttered a few things under his breath as he pulled up the text messages I’d sent. It was too late.

“Oh Jesus,” he said--mostly to himself--as Harry slipped an arm around my shoulders.

“I was gonna go workout for a bit--want to come?”

“Eh,” I shrugged my shoulders--weighing the options in my head. Visiting the boys on the road was the closest I got to a vacation in the summers. Instead of running around on stage and being exceedingly busy, I got to screw around during the days and watch the shows at night. “I’ll pass.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Love you, don’t kill each other,” he brought his eyes from me over to Niall, waiting for some sort of reply.

“Go fuck yerselves,” Niall said absently, not even looking up from his phone as I let out a laugh.

NOW - Day 1810

I climbed out of the car behind Harry--thankful for the fact that there were only a few photographers who’d been clued into his location. He waited for me, his arm lurching forward to find mine as I reached for the door to shut it, a swift diversion to the fact that he was trying to hold my hand.

People were saying all sorts of things about us--which wasn’t necessarily new--but I also knew that me and Harry being back together was causing much more anger than ever before. There were plenty of photos of me coming in and out of his London home--a place that had once felt cozy and safe--but now my social media accounts were filled with messages from people who accused me of breaking his heart on purpose.

So I deleted the messages and pretended that being in London didn’t feel strange and scary, especially because my return to LA was slowly approaching.

“Morning,” Harry shook the hand of a woman who waited by the door with a headset. She smiled at both of us, muttering something into the microphone that sat near her cheek as the door was shut behind us with an echoing thud.

His tour was set to start in a few weeks and rehearsals were amping up, just like the nerves in my stomach. Tour was such a symbolic thing for us: it meant distance, press, lots of fans and questions and attention. Harry’s promo tour was difficult enough, but knowing he’d now be playing show after show to crowds of 20,000 people felt like our relationship--in its entirety--was being put on stage for people to judge and question.

Was I allowed to visit? What would people think if I did--or worse, if I didn’t?

Harry’s hand was now around mine, leading me back into the rehearsal space as he greeted the people that stood by. He’d been waiting for quite some time to introduce me to the band that’d be traveling with him--people he’d grown to love and respect over the process of making and releasing the album.

He seemed to lead me around the room, letting me shake hands with people I’d never met and some I’d known for years. I couldn’t help but wonder what they thought--were they as curious as the people with cameras outside the building? Were they as hesitant as I was to believe that things were back to normal?

It felt more confirmed now. Neither of us had addressed it in public--aside from the vague comments that we were enjoying spending time together. Claire reassured me that I didn’t have to say anything I didn’t want to--but Harry seemed more eager to just be honest.

Which felt strange, in some ways. He wasn’t ever much of a public person--he valued his privacy and respected that of others, but when it came to this, he had a strong desire to label it for the media and the fans.

He said it created a better boundary. He said, in a meeting made up of me and Claire and Nick and Jeffrey and his head of PR, Janie, that labeling me as his girlfriend allowed for more control over the things that people said. If everyone just knew we were together, he insisted, we could ask for their respect and make it clear that we weren’t interested in any hateful messages.

Sounded good in theory--but I didn’t know if it’d work.

We’d been so careful--minimal touching in public, spending time with additional friends was a bonus to make it seem like maybe we were just friends.

I knew he was getting sick of it. We’d managed the media and the public for three years--we could do it again.

Which is why, later than night in his London living room with a blanket over my lap and a movie on TV, I scrolled through my instagram feed and slowed when I saw a photo that I knew was us.

Earlier today, at his rehearsal--his arms were around my shoulders as he pressed a kiss to my lips. I was laughing and smiling up at him. I’d given him shit about one of the lyrics during a break. Mitch and Sarah had heard and apparently appreciated my bluntness. It was a fine moment, a quick one in reality.

But now, seeing it captured in a grainy cell phone photo with terrible lighting, it felt like it could have spanned three hours.

Harry--who’d been attentive to the movie until I became engulfed in my phone--used his foot to nudge my leg. “What’re you looking at?” He popped a handful of popcorn into his mouth. I reached forward to steal the bowl back from him, replacing it on his lap with my cellphone, the photo open on the screen.

He looked offended at first when he no longer had immediate access to the popcorn--but his face shifted when he saw the photo and picked up my phone to get a better look.

Now it was my turn to munch on a handful of the snack, my eyes patiently on his face as I tried to read his emotions.

This was the first real proof.

“Are you upset?” His voice was quiet as he returned my curious stare.

I shrugged my shoulders and let out a breath of air. “I mean--it’s not like they didn’t know already, I guess. It’s gonna lead to a lot of nasty messages on my end.”

“Still?”

“Yes, still,” I snapped a bit, licking at my lips as I tried to regain composure. “They haven’t stopped. There are plenty that are nice but of course those don’t stick out in my mind as much.”

He seemed to deflate a bit--I knew he always hated it. He hated the way people would treat me and he hated the fact that some people still refused to respect our relationship. “I’m sorry they’re like that.”

I shrugged. I appreciated his words but they didn’t change anything. I’d tried to ignore it. I had tried back then to ignore it and pretend it wasn’t there and I tried to not worry about when we were apart for weeks and weeks on end.

I pushed the worries out of my mind when I felt like I couldn’t sleep at night because I wondered what he was doing. And now he was here. He was sat across from me on the couch and he offered a small smile as he closed the distance between us, putting the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table as he pulled me into his side.

“I love you,” he said, his voice somewhat muffled as he spoke into my hair. “Nothing’s going to change that and they’re not going to change it and I don’t care what people know or think. I’m just glad to have you back.”

THEN - Day 853

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but the silence wasn’t it. The kitchen was quiet except for the beeping of my parents’ alarm system that seemed to threaten my mere existence. The house was dark and cool and I wondered what everyone else was doing.

But I knew the answer. My mom and Pete were still at the award show. Ben was probably at Sara’s and Maya was at a friend’s for a sleepover. Sinead was in the car that was now backing out of my driveway, ready to drop her off at home so she could take off her shoes and her dress and go back to normal.

Harry was somewhere on the other side of the world for rehearsals. He was likely fast asleep due to the time difference between wherever he was and LA. My ears had the ringing noise inside them that came in quiet moments like these. I think it was all the screaming and loud music I’d heard for so long.

For four hours I’d been in this heavy dress--my hair pulled back from my face with hidden bobby pins. I could feel the makeup caked onto my cheeks that hid the circles under my eyes and the breakout on my chin. It was the makeup that reflected the flashing of the cameras on the red carpet.

I didn’t even know why I’d went. It wasn’t my field. My mom and Pete were excited for a night out and Nick had assured me that it’d be good for me to make an appearance after the holidays.

The refrigerator seemed to hum beside me--my mom’s handwriting on the white board read a note to Maya.

May-text me when you leave and let me know when to pick you up in the morning. I love you. Mom.

I wondered--for the millionth time in my life--what it would be like if I wasn’t me. Would my mom leave me a note like that on our families’ tiny white board that clung to the fridge? Would I be at college or at a sleepover instead of in the middle of the dark kitchen with a buzzing in my ears from all of the silence?

I felt tears well in my eyes--my legs felt tired and before I knew it, I was slumped against the cabinets as my dress crumpled on the ground beneath me. Bonnie would be pissed.

I think people thought I liked alone time. I mean, sometimes I did--but only if there was someone on the other side of the door or if Sinead was just running out to grab me a coffee.

But quiet like this--home alone, with everyone else living their lives and enjoying the things that my job brought to us--only seemed to bring an aching to my chest that seemed to grow with the passing days.

It was 2015 now. The holidays came and went and I was gearing up for a busier year than before. Harry was talking about the future and I was still stuck on trying to control the present.

If I thought he’d answer the phone, I would have called him. Instead--I went over to the liquor cabinet where Pete kept a full bottle of gin.

And that’s the last thing I remember.

NOW - Day 1718

I was sat across from Nick, Sinead and Claire--a long conference table made of oak in the building on Selma Ave where Nick’s office was. Kayley--a head from my label--was sat beside from me. Her long blonde hair seemed to cascade down her shoulders, and I wondered, for a second, if she thought I was crazy.

Nick wasn’t thrilled about it--but it felt like Nick was rarely thrilled with anything I did. He wanted me to be successful and be happy and he also wanted me to fulfill my contractual obligations and he wanted me to stay sane. I think sometimes, especially in moments like this, he felt in the middle.

“So it would just drop? Just an immediate release with no promo?”

I nodded and watched as Kayley leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh--she definitely thought I was crazy.

“I know that’s pretty out there and not how we’ve ever done things, but--doing a big promo tour doesn’t feel right,” I said honestly. “This is about the music I made and the story I’m telling and it’s not about the build up.”

I didn’t realize how nervous I was until I rubbed my hands on my high-wasited jeans--the fabric dark in spots from the sweat on my palms.

“No, I--I hear what you’re saying. I just think it’s risky. I mean--you have a fanbase. No question about that,” Kayley looked from me to Nick and then back to me.

Nick shifted uncomfortably and I could tell he was getting antsy. I’d dropped the idea on him only a day and a half before this meeting. I’d been working with Nathan on finalizing a few songs. Masters were sent off and returned, Nathan and I were dreaming up a tracklist. Within a few days we were left with a final product and I had no idea what our plan was.

So I drove to Nick’s house and brought take out for him and his wife. I figured the least I could do was butter him up before dropping the big news: the album would be released on all streaming platforms with a limited number of CDs in a week and a half.

No promo. No press. Minimal interviews.

He’d stared at me in his living room like I’d truly lost my shit--ironic, seeing as I was more stable than ever before. Now, Kayley did the same.

“It is risky,” Nick said, a shrug of his shoulders as he turned to face me in his chair. “I think it’s a bold move but I think--” he let out a sigh and laughed a little. “You’re breaking all of the rules lately, so I say fuck it. If this is what you want, let’s do it. Let’s do it big and we’ll see what happens.”

I turned to Kayley, a small smile on my face as she bit at her lip. I first met Kayley when I was 15. She was new to the record label and had shorter hair than she did now. She worked with a man named Keith--someone who’d been integral to my signing and the release of my debut album.

Kayley believed in me and wanted me to be myself. In a strange world of contracts and copyrights, Kayley seemed to be on my side.

She tried to fight the smile on her face as I looked at her expectantly, a pleading grin as I rubbed my hands together. “It fits the theme, Kayley!” I reminded her. “I disappeared in the middle of the night and no one knew where to--and here I am, back in the middle of the night and no one knew it was coming.”

Sinead let out a laugh, leaning forward on the conference table as she spoke. “I wouldn’t necessarily say all of that to Harry.” Nick rolled his eyes, Claire stifled a laugh and Kayley let out an amused sigh.

“I agree with Nick that it’s risky--I don’t know if anyone’s ever just done that before,” she looked around the table of us, silently asking for a correction if she was wrong. When no one spoke, she cleared her throat. “It’ll be a big deal because of what’s been going on. You going away, coming back, One Direction breaking up, Harry’s album. It’s sure to draw attention because of you, but also because of your history.”

Kayley was right. She was thinking logically and like a businesswoman and I understood that. But I wished--momentarily--that telling my story wasn’t a business move. I wished it was a right of passage or a heartfelt move--not a strategic plan in the game of chess that seemed to be my life.

“But it’s 2017 and things are changing if there’s anyone who can handle that, it’s you.”

THEN - Day 1052

The shouting of my name was now muffled by the car door as soon as I pulled it shut. They weren’t banging on it this time--I’d take that as a win. The cameras still flashed outside as I pulled the seat belt around my waist, his words echoing in my mind as the engine started.

He didn’t want to leave--I get that. His friends were inside, the music was good, the drinks were free. But my chest ached for the quiet of his bedroom and the feeling of his hand on my back, drawing small circles like he used to when there weren’t oceans between us.

“Can you turn the radio on?” I asked the driver--my voice fragile and weak as he made eye contact with me in the rearview mirror. He nodded simply, pressing a few buttons as tears welled in my eyes.

That was a trick I’d learned early on. The more famous I got, the less privacy I had--in cars, dressing rooms, bathrooms, or even just in the hallway of venues. Tonight, it was the top forty that would drown out my sadness.

I looked out the window and blinked a few times, water wetting my cheeks as the men with their cameras faded in the distance.

I felt like no one knew my secret. And if Harry did--he didn’t really care.

Niall and Louis were inside as well--both offering concerned looks when I left and remarking that they’d see me in the next few days. Harry, who offered nothing but a cold shoulder as I walked out, didn’t seem to care that I was falling apart in front of his eyes.

I mean--what would happen if I told him the truth? What would he say if I told him I wasn’t okay? What would anyone say? The sad truth was that my life and the lives of those around me depended on me being fine.

How are you, Margot? I’m fine. I’m great. My album went platinum, my tour is sold out, and my family is healthy and my boyfriend’s also extremely successful? How was I supposed to tell them that on top of that, I cried every day, I didn’t even enjoy performing anymore, and writing songs felt like I was pulling teeth?

And the worst part of all was that I couldn’t tell him. I’m sure if he heard me say that he’d say it wasn’t true. He’d say I could tell him anything and that I could trust him and that he loved me. But I didn’t know if he could handle it.

How could the innocent boy with a heart of pure gold accept the fact that I was miserable? What if this was just how I was now? What if this is what this life shaped me into?

What I’d come to realize over the last few weeks was something simple. I had two choices: keep secrets just to keep him around, or be honest and lose it all.

NOW - Day 1820

Margot stood at the stove, her hair was up in a bun on top of her head as I reached for silverware in the drawer. I’d been gone for a few days, but three days off meant a quick stop in LA to pick up where we left off. That’s what Hilary was calling it in therapy.

She’d called me the other day to let me know that the album was finished. And rather than saving it for the Winter or Spring and give it a fair amount of promo--she wanted to put it out, now.

Margot had always been impatient--that was no surprise. But as the stir fry she cooked on the stove seemed to sizzle, she turned around to look at me.

“How are you feeling about it?”

“About your album?” I asked hesitantly, setting the forks on the light blue placements she kept on the island.

A nod as she kept her eyes on mine.

I let out a sigh--fighting the urge to appease her and trying to balance my honesty. “I’m excited for you to release it because you’ve worked hard and it’s going to be an amazing album.”

She nodded again, somehow knowing that I wasn’t finished.

“But I’m scared of what people will think and say and how it will affect us.”

She sighed at this--it wasn’t news to her. I may not have said it so bluntly before, but she knew just as well as I did that her album would get people talking and stir things up and whether or not we liked it, it put us in a fishbowl--again.

She turned back to the stove and I couldn’t tell how she felt. I wondered, for a second, if the anxiety in my chest was anything like how she felt when my album came out. I figured it was, to an extent. The only difference was that I knew she was making it and I knew how she felt and I had her in my life again.

When she heard mine, she had no clue it was coming, no idea where we stood, and no idea how I felt. So, in that department, I guess I had it pretty good.

“It comes out Friday at midnight. We haven’t announced it anywhere. There’ve been some photos of me leaving Nathan’s studio so I think people suspect something but they have no clue.”

She didn’t like my silence. She turned around with knotted brows and a look on her fact that told me she was annoyed. “What?” I said quickly.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what you want from me. I feel like every time I bring it up you get all weird and nervous.”

“I am nervous,” I told her, my voice more exasperated than before. She pushed at the food in the frying pan and then turned it off, placing it on a back burner.

“I’m nervous too! This is huge, Harry. I haven’t put out music in years and people don’t exactly love me right now.”

I couldn’t help but make a face at that. It felt like people always loved her. She was Margot Jones. She was a household name at age 15 and the world watched her grow up. How could people not love her?

“I know this whole thing has been hard for you, but it’s been hard for me, too.”

For whatever reason, that set me off. The way she likened her experience to mine felt invalidating and wrong and so off-base. “You left me, if you’ve forgotten. You left and walked out as if it didn’t mean anything to you.”

She let her hands slap against her thighs in distress. “I can’t keep fucking defending myself, Harry! I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up. But I need you to believe me when I say I won’t do that again.”

I shook my head--her words weren’t enough and they didn’t stop the sadness from bubbling inside of me. Things felt good and more normal than before. I felt more connected to her and more aware of how she felt--but how was I supposed to trust anyone? How was I supposed to believe people when they said they’d never leave?

“I tried that. I believed the band when we all promised to ride the wave until it crashed. But Zayn left. Zayn up and walked out and quit like he had no strings attached.”

Silence as she leaned against the counter. I watched her chest deflate as she waited for me to say more.

“And then you did the same. So forgive me. Forgive me for questioning people’s promises and wondering if they meant anything they said.”

Another California sunset outside the window as she let out a sigh. “You’ve made mistakes too, Harry. I’ve said from the start that I’m not going to sugar coat things. I wrote these songs in the over the last few years and they were where I was at. If you don’t like being painted as the bad guy then you should have thought about that before you did it to me.”

“I don’t know what to say to that. I didn’t mean to make you look bad. I was just telling my truth.”

“And you get your truth Harry. I hurt you and I left and I fucked up. But you didn’t call and you didn’t ask enough questions and there are a thousand things we could both do differently if we could go back. But we can’t.”

I softened at her words--she had a point. My truth was my truth. But she had hers, and it wasn’t any less valuable or important. As the thought crossed my mind, I understood what Hilary wanted for us.

She always said this thing about fighting being better than nothing. At least we were communicating.

So sure--I was nervous about her album because it basically put mine on trial. It told her story and in some places that matched mine and in others it didn’t. But I guess that’s the beautiful thing about love, right? It looks different depending on the light you put it in.

They were older songs, meaning the words weren’t a description of her current feelings. I had figured that--I mean, she said most of the songs were old and about our downfall. But that didn’t stop the thoughts in my head of how embarrassing it would be to have people hear it.

“I just don’t want people to think that this is still how you feel.”

She shook her head, emotion on her face as she shifted on her feet. “It’s not how I feel. It’s how I felt. Past tense.”

NOW - Day 1826

Margot wore a blue dress. Her hair was curled and her lips were painted a bright shade of red. It was the good lipstick--the one that didn’t get on mine when we kissed. I had Bonnie to thank for that.

Her whole family was there and people from the label were there and Niall came into town for it. There was food and drinks and Pete shook my hand as if he knew that his step-daughter put me through the ringer.

She made a speech and she thanked everyone for standing by her. She thanked Nick for letting her break the rules and she thanked Sinead for always reminding her of what the rules were in the first place. She didn’t address me in front of everyone--Claire had warned that it might not be the smartest.

So when we sat in the car at the end of the night, Margot checked her phone to see just how unexpected it was. She’d removed her shoes and she had her feet in my lap. “It’s trending--my social is too busy to even really look at.” She clicked it shut and closed her eyes for a second. “Nick will tell me all the numbers in the morning.”

I smiled a bit at her--that was a change of tune. Old Margot would have demanded the numbers immediately. She would stay up and wait for them to come in. She’d pace the living room at the end of the week to find out how the release would be qualified.

We climbed up the stairs in her quiet house and climbed into bed. She thanked me for loving her and standing by her and I thanked her for giving us a second chance. She fell asleep quickly, and I knew that the morning wouldn’t be as quiet and peaceful as it was right now.

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lokis-lady-death · 5 years

Text

Bake-tastic One

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Lady Death: I tagged anyone I thought might be interested! Just a simple two part story about a girl meeting a man and baking some cupcakes. I did this by request for a super awesome mutual’s birthday! @kcd15 I hope you enjoy it, I’m so sorry it’s late but you get two parts for being so patient <3 Hope you enjoy!

Bake-tastic

Step One: Introductions

“Don't Stop Believin’ by Journey,” you recognized immediately. “Good choice.” There was no hiding the delight on your face as you laid back in your chair, slipped on your sunglasses, and sang along to the tune.

You couldn't help but think this is how everyone should spend a day off, lounging on a balcony in California, dazing in and out of a mid-day nap to the sound of soulful tunes on the perfect playlist.

It was such a cliche spring morning, really. The sky was that bright shade of blue with sparse clouds, the breeze blew just enough that it kept the air at the right temperature. The city was even more peaceful than usual, with birds chirping, kids playing and hardly any cars passing by your condominium. The only real sound you heard was the music emanating from your neighbor's place above your head.

The main reason you enjoyed these days? Frankly, you needed the distraction. You were a full time barista at a local big bakery that catered to the cupcake-addicted southern L.A. day walkers and all you wanted was to unwind. Bake-tastic, despite its horrifically punny name, was actually an up and coming hangout spot that was making a name for itself among the baked goods industry.

The only problem?

You weren't baking.

Growing up in the south, you had loved everything about baking since you were a little girl in your grandmother’s kitchen, playing in her aprons and sneaking off with her cookbooks, but it wasn't until when you sister asked you to move to move to Cali that you decided to act on your passion.

But, as it turned out, if you want to bake here, you needed experience. Experience no one was willing to give you. All you had managed to do was make coffee and take orders for cakes and other treats you weren’t allowed to actually create.

That honor was left to the owner of the bakery, a man whom, in your months of working there, had never once come in during the day shift. You never met the mysterious baker, but couldn’t deny his talents the first time you tried his mixed berry tarte. Everything he created was a miniature masterpiece all their own. You wanted desperately tk meet him, or even more, bake with him, but that was a quickly squashed dream. He kept to himself, prefering to come after closing to bake everything throughout the night. The next morning, when you and your coworkers would arrive, all you would need to do was set out the new baked goods and make coffee. The others were fine with the remedial tasks, but you were not.

It wasn’t necessarily living the dream, but the music had a nice way of dulling out the disappointment.

If your sister had been out there she would be complaining about it, but truthfully you enjoyed your little free concerts. It required no work on your part and in today's world, you could use some mindless way to unwind. It wasn't long before you recognized a pattern in when the music played: usually in the afternoons of week days, stopping promptly at seven, Saturday morning and most of Sunday. Not particularly meaning to, you began to plan breaks outside around when the neighbor would have their music on. It had become a sort of ritual: weekdays when you got off work you would shower, throw on your bathrobe, and come lounge until seven. On weekends, you spent your mornings sipping coffee in your pajamas.

This Saturday was no different. Right at six in the morning, the neighbor's sliding door opened, releasing a symphony of classic rock music out into the world. Here you were, ready to soak it up as you sang out the stress of your week through lyrics of musical geniuses with a cup of coffee in one hand and a freshly made strawberry Danish in the other.

It was around thirty minutes later, as you were going along to Matchbox Twenty’s 3am that your tone began to carry. By the second verse you had gotten a bit carried away, singing along and dancing in your chair as the words you had known by heart for nearly two decades came pouring out. You had become some enamored by the words that you didn't even notice the music had been turned down.

When the next song began, you took in one last deep breath of spring air, stretching your arms up above your head until you heard that satisfying pop of your shoulders. You had been rejuvenated and were ready for whatever the rest of your Saturday brought.

But just when you turned to walk back into the apartment, you heard someone ask, “Oh, are you going in already?”

There was no stopping the loud curse word from escaping your lips as you tried to pull yourself back into your skin. Whipping around, you expected to see a man to go along with that sharp comment.

Yet you were alone, left only with the sound of a haughty laugh.

“I'm terribly sorry, I certainly didn't mean to frighten you.” You distinctly noticed the smart British accent as he went on, “It's just that I had been listening to you sing so I thought I ought to say something….”

Your face felt it had caught fire by embarrassment of someone, a stranger- a possibly handsome British stranger- had heard you singing. A hand slapped over your mouth to stifle a gasp.

You were so mortified you could scream, but there was also a part of you curious how much he had heard.

When you still didn't respond, the englishman went on, “She's gone and I'm here talking to myself, aren't I?”

“No,” you couldn't help but laugh nervously, “I'm still here.”

“Good. I'd look rather mad out here going on to an invisible woman, wouldn't I?”

The two of you shared a laugh, followed by an unfortunate silence before he added, “It seems we have a similar taste in music. You know just about every song I ever play.”

Again your cheeks went ablaze.

“I mean, it's not like I just come out here and listen to you, that would be absurd. It's just, you come out here nearly every time I turn on my ipod, surely you noticed?”

You realized it was the same neighbor who played the music every day. Biting down on your lip, you stopped from admitting you planned your free time at home around when he turned his tunes on. The two of you were starting to sound like either a cheap romance movie from Hallmark channel or a murder documentary off Investigative Discovery .

When you still hadn't spoken up, he rambled on. “That possibly came across a bit awkward, I didn't mean it as though I'm just out here listening to you…” he corrected. “I only meant I enjoyed what I've heard.”

At that you had to smile. His tone was sincere enough, even a tad cute as he tripped over himself, but with that accent alone he sent a flutter through your stomach.

‘Is that what I'm reduced to?’ you wondered, ‘Pining after men because of accents?’

“I haven't heard you leave, does that mean I didn't completely ruin this first impression?”

At that, you couldn't keep quiet. “Your first impression was actually Bruno Mars That's What I Like,” you teased, almost annoyed with how airy your voice came out.

Maybe it was because he wasn't in front of you or maybe it was because his voice just oosed with charm, but there was something else that just pulled at you.

“Well, was it a good impression?”

Your smile widened. “It's improved.”

He let out a roar of a laugh, even clapping his hands at the retort. “That's good," he paused," I don't suppose you'll be back out today?"

The question struck you, making you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

“We'll see,” you said finally. “It'll depend on what you play.”

“I suppose I'll have to make the playlist extra special then, won't I?” he returned, a touch of smugness etching into his tone.

You smiled again, opening the door to step back into your apartment as you tried to answer as nonchalantly as possible, “I suppose you will.”

As soon as you closed the door, you bolted to your sister's room to wake her up.

You threw her door open as you called out, “Steph? Hey, Steph, do you know the guy that lives in the upstairs apartment? Steph, wake up!”

She rubbed her eyes, letting out a deep yawn just before stretching out her back like a cat. “What guy? The loud one?”

Your eyes rolled back while you grunted, “Yes! Do you know what his name is?”

Her shoulders shrugged, her eyes lulled in a half sleep, half hungover state. “He is simply known as Loud British Jerk.”

Your brow creased, “How do you not know his name but you know he's British?”

“Because he talks, like, super loud and always has his doors open.”

Reasonable answer, but your sister was also one of the single most nosey women you had ever known. You leaned in, pressing on, “What else do you know about him?”

“Nothing? Jeeze, y/n, I don't eavesdrop on people anymore. What's gotten into you, did he play a song that got your panties all ruffled? You wanna go bake him granny's old apple turnover and tell him you like his butt? ”

“First off that's not even the phrase you think it is, second I think a simple yes or no would suffice.”

Going to stand up, sure that it was a waste of time to expect her help, Steph took your hand.

“Geeze, sorry, didn't realize you were so worked up. Come on, sit.” You sat down on the side of her bed while she scooted up on her pillow to better reach her cellphone. “Look, I'll text Lexi, she works down at the pool, she knows all the hot guys who live here.”

You couldn't help but scoff, “Thanks, I guess?”

“So you know what that means? If she doesn't know his name, he's not hot.”

She offered you her cheesiest, exaggerated wink she could muster, earning a short snort out of you before you shook your head. “I need to go take a shower, I guess let me know if she says anything.”

“Alright, and I'll see if I can pull him up on social media.”

You walked out to the pleasant sound of Steph texting her friend, knowing soon you might have a name to go with that voice you couldn't get out of your head.

*****

Tom had been outside listening to you for over thirty minutes before he had mustered up enough courage to actually say something to you.

It wasn't something he had particularly planned, though he had meant to speak to you sooner. The thing was, he wasn't from around there and there were certain normalities he didn't quite understand.

Certain ones were less socially involved, such as driving on the wrong side of the road, the use of American made cars verses the German models he bad grown up with.

But it was earlier that week when Chris, his Australian work friend, came by to go over a project they were collaborating on that he noticed his social cues might need some help.

They had just been discussing an upcoming book deal they were working on together when Tom suddenly quieted his friend before reaching for his Ipod to turn the music down.

“What are you-”

“Shhh,” Tom instructed with a finger pressed to his confused friend's lips. “Listen.” He held a hand to his ear, cut his eyes towards the open balcony doors and smiled. “Don't you hear it?”

Chris furrowed his brow but did what he was told, just a bit less enthusiastically. After a minute he finally answered, “Singing?”

“Yes, but more than that. What else?”

“Well she clearly doesn't know the words to Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

“No!” Tom corrected sharply. “Can't you hear it? You can practically feel her soul coming out in these words. It's just so real, so… Refreshing.” His back turned and he began filling his mother's old kettle with water, going on, “She does it every day, just goes outside and sings along to my music. It's the most peculiar thing.”

“I sing along to the radio all the time, you never say nice things to me about it?”

“Yes, but this is different. She's coming outside to sing to MY music.”

“And?”

“And? And?!” Tom three his hands into the air, going on, “And, he says.” There was a silence between the two of them as the song cut off and the singing stopped. Tom set the kettle on the stove and turned back to face the still creased-browsed Chris. “I don't know, it's just nice to me, I suppose.”

It was now time for Chris to speak and he really just didn't know where to begin. “So you interrupted me telling you how much money we are about to make on this cookbook deal because you were listening to your neighbor sing to herself?”

“When you say it like that it sounds ridiculous.”

“That's exactly what it is!”

“Oh no, it's not like that. She does it all the time, it's kind of like our thing.”

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and Inhaled sharply. “Your thing, eh? And who is this lucky young lady that you eavesdrop on a daily basis?”

“Eavesdrop?” he laughed but wasn't smiling. “I'm, no, I'm not eavesdropping, I'm just simply appreciating someone else's ability to let go. It's no different than listening at a karaoke bar. ” His confidence lessened when he quietly remarked, “Also, I don't know her name.”

“Have you even spoken to her?”

“No, we haven't the chance…”

“You know she's outside every single day, what do you mean there wasn't a chance?”

Tom's mouth opened to oppose but no words ever materialized. Slowly he closed his mouth and swallowed a lump in his throat. “I should talk to her then?”

“In the very least introduce yourself, what harm would it do? You never talk to the hot girls I hire for you at the bakery, the least you can do is talk to one that for whatever reason you started stalking her. Talk about music.”

Fast forward to the day he actually managed to speak to you. Now, after making a complete arse of himself, he didn't know if you would ever come outside again and what was worse he didn't even remember to tell you his name.

"Perhaps that's for the best," he reasoned, "I could still mend this first impression."

After he knew you had left, he bolted inside to find his phone. He texted Chris what happened and waited impatiently for him to respond with:

~Actually, about that neighbor girl, I got a REALLY interesting call from Lexi you may wanna know about~

Tom’s brow furrowed at the comment, curiously asking what he heard.

He called him and nearly fell out of his chair at the news.

*****

The steam of your shower had filled up your room by the time you came sashaying out. With a towel around your waist, you planted yourself down at your desk and opened up your laptop. Just as you opened the web browser, Steph can barging in.

“Y/N!”

Your hands went up instinctively to cover your chest, cursing out, “What the hell!”

“I got it!” she exclaimed, “And you are just gonna DIE!”

“His name, you got his name?” Your grin stretched from ear to ear as you pressed further, “Well? What is it?!”

“I can do one better,” she teased, holding her Tiffany blue phone out for you to see. “I found him on Facebook, and Look!”

You had to lean back for the up close image to fully resonate with your retinas, but when you got a good glimpse, you took the phone from her hand and stared.

It was his profile picture, a face to go along with that voice. The image only showed him from the waist up, dressed in jeans and a white button up, but to you it showed enough. His eyes stood out immediately, a striking seafoam blue that sparkled along with the toothy grin he offered the camera. His hair was a strawberry blonde that was neatly trimmed but still long enough to curl. High cheekbones, sun-kissed skin, along with the more than sunny backdrop of his photo painted a portrait of an outdoorsy, fun loving sort of guy. Looking at him while imaging that velvety English accent sent a shiver down your toes that you couldn't hide.

“A total babe, right?” your sister beamed. “And judging by his profile, he's single!”

You swallowed hard. “That, yeah, that's awesome.” It felt like he was staring back at you through the photo, and finally you made yourself scroll over to see his name. “Tom,” you said out loud with a smile.

Steph reached over and took her phone from you, offering you, “I haven't even told you the best BEST part. My friend is dating his friend and guess what?”

You stared at her, blank faced. “What?”

“He’s the guy who owns Bake-tastic! This is the guy you’ve been pining over since you moved here!”

You looked over at your laptop, thinking about how many times you wondered what the mysterious baker must look like, googling and yet failing to ever find any remnants of him. Judging by his way with sweets, you honestly expected a thicker, maybe older gentleman, not someone worthy of being a model.

But that’s not what you saw.

Looking him over, taking it all in, realizing it was his playlist you had been listening to all this time, his pastries you had been idolizing, you wondered if maybe this was a sign.

“You know what you gotta do right?” your sister asked with a playful grin.

“What?”

She scoffed as if the answer was obvious. “You gotta go bake with him!”

At that, you made a sour face, shaking your head at the very notion. “No, he doesn’t like teaching and he certainly wouldn’t want a novice messing up a days’ worth of work. No, I’m not doing that-”

“Oooo, that’s too bad,” Steph ached, her face not reflecting the sympathy her voice tried to persuade. “Because I definitely told my friend to ask about you helping out in the bakery.”

“You WHAT?”

As it turned out, Steph’s friend Lexi was dating Chris Hemsworth, a well known heir of the Hemsworth Lodging hotels. His image was the only one you could ever come across in your searches for Bake-tastic's ownership. He made donations to various organizations and raised money for charities, but what wasn't oublically as well known was his investments he made in his friends.

Tom just happened to be one of those friends, a baker in need of a bakery. So, Chris forked up the money and Tom got straight to work, building a name for himself in L.A. while Chris managed the business side of it. The only issue for Tom was he felt very out of place in such a large city, even as diverse at it was. Nothing about it ever quite felt like home, so rather than branch out into the world, he worked late hours and insisted on solitude.

It felt bizzare hearing the story from Steph, but it made you feel better when she assured you Chris and Tom didn’t know all the details about you.

“I just said my friend’s sister is an aspiring baker and would love to, like, shadow Mr. Hiddleston or whatever. I gave them your name, but only because you work at the bakery,” Lexi assured when you called to ask exactly what happened. “Chris was more than happy to ask Tom if he was willing to show you around his kitchen and he said for you to come tonight.”

“Tonight?” you exploded, realizing you hadn’t the mental preparation needed to meet the British bombshell of a baker after that awkward balcony encounter. “What if he knows it’s me?”

“He’s never met you, just listened to you sing a few lame songs. How would he know it’s you?”

*****

“Oh, it’s definitely her,” Chris repeated over the speaker phone to Tom. “See, here, I’ll forward you her info.”

Tom stared blankly at the Facebook page, gazing into your eyes as he matched it with the voice he had heard earlier that day. His phone dinged as he received a forwarded email from Chris containing your original job application to Bake-tastic as well as a copy of your driver's license.

“That is just too much of a coincidence, surely you’re pulling my leg?” Tom snipped, shaking his head. But looking down at your image, he hoped it wasn’t foolish to want it to be true. “And she wants to bake with me?”

“Lexi made it clear, she came to California to be a baker and she loves everything you make in the shop. And the best news? She already has a serious crush on you! I’m telling you, if you want to make a better first impression on this woman, you need to let her work with you tonight.” When he didn't immediately agree, Chris added, "I already told her to be there at six, all you have to do is show up and be charming."

Tom inhaled sharply, staring at the image a bit longer before finally conceding.

*****

You had gone through numerous outfits while you tried to figure out what you were going to wear. Jeans, skirts and leggings were all thrown around your room, shirts crumbled up on the floor, shoes spilled out of your closet as you tossed pair after pair aside.

Your sister had finally come and picked out something for you: a loose fitting blue t-shirt dress with gray closed toe wedges. "Not too dressed up to work in a kitchen, but nice enough to hopefully get a callback from your impromptu date," Stroh said, stepping back to admire her creation. "AND IT HAS POCKETS!"

"It's not a date, it's a baking lesson if anything," you corrected, though after you put your hands in the pockets and did a twirl, you had to admit your heart was fluttering at the idea of an all night cooking session with Tom.

However, when it was finally time for you to leave, you started choking up. "I can't," you started spatting off over and over." I can't, this is a bad idea, what if I mess up one of his recipes? What if I embarrass myself? What if I use salt instead of sugar?" your eyes widened, "What if he doesn't like me?"

"You'll be fine, just do what you always do!" When you still looked unsure, she went on, "You're great, y/n, and he'd be an idiot not to see it. A beautiful, British idiot. " Steph offered you a sincere smile, enough to spur you on. "And for the love of everything decent, please flirt!"

You swallowed hard, did one last look over in the mirror, then grabbed your purse and made the fifteen minute walk down the block to the bakery.

When you arrived, the main store front had the lights off, but from the kitchen door you could see a faint illumination.

Tom was just beyond that light.

Repeating, "I can do this," to yourself, you walked through the front door, setting off the gentle ding of the bell that alerted staff of a customer arriving.

“Hello?” you called out, unsure if you had the right time. Looking down at your phone, you were only a couple of minutes early so rather than wait in the doorway, you went on in. Your mind began urging, begging, pleading for you to turn back. It’s not too late, it said, go ahead, high tail it out of here.

‘No. I have to do this,’ you pushed on. ‘I have to know what’s beyond that door.’

Mustering up the courage, feeling something in the pit of your soul tell you this was right, you called out again, “Hello? Mr. Hiddleston? I'm here to, uh, help for tomorrow's set up?"

A loud, disembodied voice came from the kitchen, “Yes, come into the back! And lock that door, won’t you? Don’t need anyone walking in off the street.”

You swallowed, feeling your heart begin to pound as you set the lock. Slipping your phone in the pocket of your dress, you tucked your purse under the cash register before walking back towards the kitchen.

Like my garbage? Read more of it! Master List

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#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x reader #thomas hiddleston #Lady Death Writes

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lailaliquorice · 5 years

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be the sunshine you cannot see

AO3 link

alternative title: let! cleves! be! soft!!! halfway through and here’s anna’s edition of the six hurt/comfort series. Took me a while to think of an idea for this so maybe it’s an obvious choice but I enjoyed writing it, plus the bonus of anne and cathy being the most supportive friends brings me endless joy. I’ll never tire of soft boleyn and motherly parr

One thing Anna had always been good at was complimenting people. She’d always been able to just focus on what was good in people, be it in their appearance or their personality. She’d been good at it in her old life too, a true charmer in the ballroom and someone who everyone wanted to be around. Nowadays it meant that she could never fail to make her fellow Queens smile through either a quick kind word or a soul-searching pep talk.

One thing Anna had never been good at was dealing with negativity. She hardly listened when it was directed at her; she was used to that, as in shamed-for-her-looks-500-years-ago-reminded-of-it-every-night used to that. What she couldn’t deal with was negativity towards her friends. That was when she would fight back, protecting her friends like a mother bear when they were broken down and building them back up again afterwards. When the other Queens enquired about her after a harsh review she’d always shrug her shoulders, shrug off those comments like water from a duck’s back, and tell them it took more than that to bring her down.

But sometimes, she was wrong about that part. Sometimes, painful words snuck through the charismatic shell she liked to hide behind and stung her hard.

It was early enough that the rest of the Queens wouldn’t get to the theatre for a little while, and Anna was sat at her desk in the dressing room with her eyes fixed to her phone screen. The voice of logic in her head was screaming at her to stop scrolling, to stop falling further down that rabbit hole when they had a show to do that evening and she would only put herself in the wrong mindset if she kept looking. But her thumb was on autopilot as it kept on scrolling, the kind comments blurring to leave only sharp words of hate behind. If it weren’t for the miracle of waterproof mascara then there would be thick black trails carved into her cheeks from the silent tears that fell without her even noticing them.

She could have been sat there minutes or days for all she knew. The sound of the dressing door opening jolted her back to life, practically throwing her phone onto the desk and pretending to be hunting through her makeup box for something as Anne walked in, shouting a loud greeting that Anna returned in what she hoped was a normal voice.

The sound of Anne cluttering around her desk on the opposite side of the room made Anna want to shrink even further within herself, her usual excitement when the other Queens came in dulled by panic that someone could see her upset. “Hey babe, you got any spare hair grips? Managed to leave mine at home and don’t want to wait for Jane to bring them,” Anne said, explaining why she’d been tearing the dressing room apart.

“Yeah, I’ve got some,” she replied without looking over her shoulder, attempting to sound casual in the hope that Anne wouldn’t notice anything was wrong.

“Ugh you’re a beaut,” Anne groaned. Anna flinched at her word choice, the mention of her appearance immediately bringing her mind back to what she’d been reading on her phone screen even though it was said with kindness. She put her box of hair grips on her desk as Anne walked over, wary to hand them to her directly in case she caught sight of her ruined makeup.

Anne grabbed the box but paused without going back to her side of the dressing room, making Anna freeze in case she’d noticed anything. Her heart was hammering at the close call as Anne turned to fiddle with the costume rail in the middle of the room, asking “D’you know what time it is?”

Unwilling to pick up her phone again, Anna made the mistake of looking up towards the clock and directly into Anne’s eyes.

“Oh hun,” she sighed, expression softening as she pulled Aragon’s chair up to sit down next to her. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Hastily wiping a hand underneath her eye, Anna shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said with a sniffle, averting her gaze from Anne’s intent look to stare at the desk in front of her. She was careful to avoid glancing straight in front of her; even looking at Anne was preferable to looking in the mirror. “Nothing’s happened. I’m fine.”

Anne was still for a moment, before she got out of her chair without a word and marched out of the dressing room. The knot of worry in Anna’s stomach only tightened when she heard two sets of footsteps echoing down the corridor and Anne’s shout of “I’ve brought the cavalry!” as she flung the door open again.

A flash of blue appeared in Anna’s peripheral vision before she heard the gentle voice of Cathy Parr. “Hey Anna,” she said, sitting down in Aragon’s chair while Anne stood behind her. “Please tell us what’s happened. We want to help and we can’t do that if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Anna barked out a laugh. “You can’t fix this,” she said, gesturing roughly to her face.

“There’s nothing there that needs fixing,” Cathy said, a note of surprise in her voice that only made Anna feel like laughing again. “You don’t really believe that.”

“Well there’s plenty of people who do,” Anna huffed, unlocking her phone and shoving it towards Cathy and Anne. She knew she wasn’t being fair by taking her frustration out on them, but in the moment she was too wrapped up in self-loathing to care about anyone else.

There was silence for a moment as Anne scrolled down Anna’s phone screen, before Cathy shut the screen off and placed it face down on the desk. “Those people don’t know the you that we know,” Cathy said, “I doubt many of them have even seen the show. They take any opportunity to send hate to someone who they loathe for doing better than them. They feel safe hiding behind their computer screens and are too cowardly to do anything about it in real life.” A note of bitterness crept into her voice as she finished; while Cathy could spend days lost in the internet researching seven subjects at once, she could spend just as long ranting quietly about the lack of manners that social media made commonplace.

But as much as Anna knew Cathy’s comments were true, they weren’t hitting the nail on the head though. “I know I’m beautiful on the inside. But it’s the outside that people care about, isn’t it? When you’re Queen and when you’re an actress, everyone’s always dissecting what your face and body look like,” she said, voice hitching a little as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Anna didn’t you hear her? You’re gorgeous, babe. Honestly you are,” Anne interrupted. Anna was puzzled by the look of confusion on her face as if she was stating the obvious to her.

“What they think about doesn’t matter. What matters is what you think,” Cathy pushed on, glancing at Anne before looking at Anna carefully. “Do you like what you look like?”

Anna paused at the question, slowly finding the courage to look up and face her reflection. At first all she saw was the ruined makeup, patchy foundation and smudged foundation from where she’d cried, but after a few moments she managed to look closer. The shade of her skin, the shape of her cheekbones, the colour of her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said eventually, the word sounding almost like a shameful confession.

“And that’s enough,” said Cathy, she and Anne both smiling as they looked at her. Glancing at her watch she added “Will you let me do your makeup tonight?”

The offer was surprising, but the voice in the back of her head asking why Cathy would want to stare at her naked face was hushed by gratitude at her offer. She’d only had her makeup done a handful of times since they were reincarnated and it never failed to make her feel beautiful.

Cathy took her smile as a yes, fetching a few products from her own makeup bag before wiping off the remnants of Anna’s makeup to start over fresh. Anne hung her jacket over the mirror so that Anna couldn’t accidentally catch sight of herself before Cathy was done, though she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at having no makeup on at all in front of the other two girls for the first time ever. But Anne’s never-ending stream of uplifting comments from her position hanging over Cathy’s shoulder was enough to break down that fear a little.

Once Cathy had blended her foundation she picked up the concealer stick, but only looked at it for a moment before putting it down again and rummaging around for her setting powder. “Don’t you need that?” she couldn’t help but ask, internally rattling off the list of things that she usually covered over with it.

“Nope,” Cathy said, meeting Anna’s gaze for a split second before making a start with the powder. “The only person who needs copious amounts of concealer in this building is me so that I actually look half awake.” Anna smirked at that; Cathy’s raccoon eyes were a common sight first thing in the morning when she would trail down to the kitchen for her necessary coffee.

“What colour eyeshadow are you thinking?” Anne asked Cathy as she picked up the palette, scrutinising the colours carefully before pointing to one without a word. Cathy hummed in apparent agreement, and Anna trusted them both enough to close her eyes and let them carry on without her knowing.

She was midway through having her eyeliner applied when the dressing room door opened, but she didn’t have to guess who had entered as Anne’s shout of “Alright Aragon?” made it clear within seconds.

“Evening everybody,” Aragon said, and when Anna was allowed to open her eyes she was relieved to see her looking amused rather than annoyed at Cathy and Anne having stolen her chair. “Are we all doing each other’s makeup tonight?”

“Nah, it’s just taking three people to make me look presentable right now,” Anna joked.

Her poking fun at herself only earned her a disapproving frown from Cathy and a flick on the hand from Anne. “Oi you, or I’ll keep telling you you’re a beaut ‘til our dying days," Anne retorted.

Privately Anna thought that she probably wouldn’t believe her even if she did, but she didn’t voice that one aloud since she knew they’d all jump in to disprove her. Becoming desensitised to negative comments had the unfortunate side effect that positive comments on her looks had almost lost their impact too, meaning she was left in an even worse place when the hate did end up getting on top of her.

After pausing for a minute while Cathy shifted into Anne’s chair to let Aragon sit down, she finished off Anna’s makeup and leaned back with a satisfied smile. “What do you think?” she asked Anne first, who was still leaning over the back of the chair with her arms around Cathy’s neck.

“Looks gorgeous,” Anne said, grinning at Cathy before turning her infectious smile towards Anna. “You ready to see it?”

Anna nodded apprehensively, looking towards the mirror as Anne pulled her jacket down with a flourish. Immediately her eyebrows raised in surprise at what she saw. Cathy had done her eye makeup slightly different than usual, more like a mix between her own and Anne’s than what Anna usually wore. Cathy's dusky pink eyeshadow glimmered like stardust against her skin and the hints of red matched her costume just like Anne’s green glitter did, and completed by her usual dark red lipstick it just looked like a new take on her own make up rather than a copy of anyone else’s.

“She’s smiling!” Anne squealed, and Anna laughed upon realising she had started beaming without even realising it. “Go on, what do you think!”

Tearing her gaze away from the mirror, there was no doubt in Anna’s voice as she said “I think I look banging!”

Anne and Cathy both cheered, Aragon’s laughter in the background completing the happy scene. “Now will you believe me when I say you look amazing?” Anne asked, looking at her through intense wide eyes.

“And that’s with or without the makeup,” added Cathy quietly.

Anna fell quiet for a moment then, glancing back towards the mirror again. “I believe it a little more,” she said. She could have lied and pretended that her self-confidence had returned in full force, but after what they’d both done for her she didn’t think they deserved the disservice of being lied to. She could let herself be truthful with them for a change.

Anne grinned, skirting around Cathy’s chair to squeeze Anna into a tight hug instead. “And that, ladies and gents, is what we call a good start.”

She laughed as she returned the warm embrace. Maybe self-confidence would always feel like walking a tightrope to her, but at least in this life she had friends to give her a helping hand whenever she needed one.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #anna of cleves #anne boleyn #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #laila's writing

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kmelanin · 5 years

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Permanent Ink /4\\ kth

a/n: enjoy

Main Masterlist~

( Permanent Ink ) masterlist~

WARNING- umm idk really.

word count: 5k+

___________________________

“Come on, I'll take you home” Taehyung holds his hand out. You almost wanted to laugh in his face, but you just scoff.

“No, I'm good” Your words slurred more that you expected. “I came here with Yoongi, so I’ll leave with him.” You give off so much attitude you left him stunned, until you turned to walk away. He frowned and he grabs your arm and pulls you back.

“I sent him to give you weed, not to bring you to a party.” He almost growls in your face. You were stunned for a moment, not used to the man handling.

“Why do you care, huh?” You pull your arm from his grip. “You seem unavailable and you're here with Sinsi, so Ill see you on Monday.” You once again turned around to go back inside and find Yoongi. This time both of his hands come and grab both of your shoulders and your back meets his chest.

“Stop walking away from me.” He breath hits your ear sending tingles down your neck. “You are drunk, and it's not safe. You have no choice, i'm taking you home.” You felt his hands squeeze a little, and you could feel the tension coming between you both. You knew he was serious. But alcohol loves to bring the little out in you. Without actually wanting to, you body give out enough to send you falling to the ground.

“Carry me then.”

“Fine.” He says with no hesitation and he bends down. His hands go under your legs and under your arms, easily lifting you up in a bridal style. You gasped out in surprisement when he does, you didn't think he could even lift you, let alone bend down and pick you all the way up. He starts to walk down the street, about five cars later one beeps and unlocks. He then sets you on your feet and opens the door. You pout and get in, and he waits until you were buckled to shut the door. You watch as he walks around and gets into the driver's seat.

“Aren't you drunk?” You ask.

“Nope.” His words bland and dull. He starts the car up.

“What about Sinsi?” You ask.

“She has a boyfriend and knows how to use a phone.” He looks over at you for a second and looks back and pulls off, following your directions to your home.

He helps you out, once you got there. Since you lived in a condo sized apartment, he had to help you with the security and with the elevator. You kept quiet, feeling quite embarrassed for how drunk you were.

When you reached your door, you unlocked and went inside. You turned to him and smiled.

“Thank you, see you-”

“Can I spend the night, I feel dizzy. Ill leave in the morning.” He looks at you, you suddenly got a bit nervous, but you nod anyways. You let him in and watch him as he looks around, most likely judging.

“I have a guest bedroom, Rowan usually sleep there but you can take it tonight.” You say pointing to the door, he looks at you and nods, not even looking to where you were pointing. But you don't say anything and you turn towards your bedroom. You go into the bathroom and take off your makeup and wash your face. You then take your hair down and you but on some pajama shorts and a tank top with no bra. Which you instantly regret when you enter your bedroom again and see Taehyung laying shirtless on your bed.

“Um, what are you doing?” You ask, casually crossing your arms incase your nipples were poking through.

“Going to bed. What else.” he says as if he was irritated, which had you confused.

“Whats wrong with the bed in the other room?”

“You won't be in it.” He tilts his head back against the headboard and he closes his eyes. You actually laugh.

“Now it will, good night Taehyung.” You say shaking you head, your head starting to hurt from all of the light and the fact that you were sobering up. You go to the kitchen and you grab a cup, getting some cold water from the dispenser in your fridge door. You take a couple of big drinks from it and set it down. As soon as you do, hands come out from behind you and cage you in on either side of your island. Your heart starting beating extremely fast, as you felt Taehyung behind you. With your hair up and neck exposed, he easily slide in and speaks against your jaw, looking up at you.

“I said, stop walking away from me.” His voice was low and warm against you. One of his hands come up and around your neck pulling your back into him and his other hand pushes down below your belly button. Pushing your ass right into his groin. His hand exposes your neck even more. His leaves gentle kisses on your neck.

“Taehyung…”

“Shh.” His hands turn you around. And your widened eyes meet his dark and low ones. “You're so annoying, you know that.” His hand comes up and caresses your face. You were confused to what was happening. His touch was so soft, but his words...

“And you're annoying.” You roll your eyes and push him away. Your head was banging right now and all you wanted was sleep. You went to your room and shut the door, leaving him out in the kitchen.

The next day you texted Rowan to send out reminders to your models for Monday’s meeting and photoshoot. When you left your room, you checked around and noticed that Taehyung had left. You wondered when he did though.

You pulled out your weed and some White Owl, white russian. You've started to roll up, taking you a lot longer than you thought since you don't do it as often. You wanted to get into it though.

You rolled two blunts and then started to get ready for the day. You smoked one blunt in the shower as you blast music. You heard that smoking in the shower would get you higher. Once you got out and you right. You felt a bit lightheaded so you went to sit down and decide what to wear.

You were meeting up with two of your friends, and models who were modeling for you. Teresa and Valerie.

Slowly you dropped clothing pieces, not wanting to overwhelm a lot of people and also to make sure that everything was perfect.

You smoked the other blunt as you did your makeup and hair. You put on some ripped skinny jeans that went over your belly button a little and a white tube top. You wore a lace wig, it was pin straight and it was styled as a longer bob. You love real hair wigs.

You took some pictures in a mirror and you post one to instagram. You also quickly check your stats and like some pictures. You were pushing 5 millions followers and you were excited. You couldn't help but to check Taehyung's instagram and you smiled when you seen that he was pushing 200k. He put a couple more pictures up and the most recent was showing off his lightened hair. You clicked on the picture and you could feel your heart beating faster. His eyes were closed and head was tilted. His hair was a bit messy and it looked like…

Oh fuck. It looks just like your guest bedroom. You scrolled just a tad to see the caption.

‘My mind is going haywire.’ You were a little clueless wondering what was going on. Why did he leave without saying anything.

The dinging of your phone pulls you out of your little high daze in your phone. You look and see that Valerie texted you saying that they were waiting outside. You quickly pull on some Gucci sneakers, with the rhyton logo on them. You grabbed your purse with everything you need, from lipgloss to wallet to phone and charger.

Once you got outside, you quickly find Val’s army green Jeep. Valerie was in the front and Teresa was in the back.

It was almost noon so the parking lot was pretty busy. Once you got into the front passenger seat and get buckled, she takes off.

“So Min Yoongi posted about this new Korean place. I think we should go try it.” Teresa pipes up when Valerie asks where we should eat. Your eyes widen a little when she mentioned his name. But thankfully they didn't say anything. They would scream at you if they knew you left him at a party.

“Sure sure.” You seemed a little out of it. Teresa noticed and pulled herself to the front and looked at you.

“Bitch are you high?” She started laughing as Val did.

“Damn, no wonder why it smelled like loud in here. Since when did you smoke weed?” she wonders and your high ass went off. You went on and told them about Taehyung and how he did her tattoo and how you feel about him. You even went off and also mentioned Yoongi and how he gave you weed.

“So you're telling me that Taehyung is now modeling for you? And you're scared to make a move on him?” Teresa hops out of the car when we park.

“I think he still has feeling for his ex Sinsi.”

“And she's dating Park Bogum?” Valerie asks. You nod. “So what the fuck are you doing? You should make a move. I see no reason why not to.” You three start walking towards the restaurant.

Then you stopped in your tracks confusing the girls in front of you.

You see his car parked in front. You recognize it by the Gucci tiger necklace hanging on the mirror.

“That's his car. Meaning he’s here.” You quickly say, you start backing up a bit wanting to leave. But they quickly grab you.

“No, this is good.” Val starts.

“Yea, from what you've told us he’s lowkey playing with you. Like testing you out, so let’s go in here and act like you don't know who he is. See what he does, play with him a bit.” They pull you inside. You didn't know why he made you so nervous. Was it his eyes, how they always looked at you so fiercely. Or his hands, how they could probably grab your ass so good. Or just how he presented himself, so dark and intense. Or was it how he didn't give into you so easily.

You put on your confident face and follow the waiter to a table in the back. You all sat down, you made sure that your back was to the restaurant in case you did see him. You didn't want to see him, until tomorrow.

Eventually you all finished eating and wanted to go shopping a bit. You go to your town most popular strip mall and you look around a bit. You were recognized a bit from social media and you take some pictures. You don't get much, just some new shoes that dropped and some new shirts.

They drop you off back home, saying how we all needed beauty sleep for tomorrow. As soon as you got home, you stripped everything off and put on some sweats and a tube top. You were heading to the couch to put on a movie, when you got a knock on your door. You frowned wondering who in the hell was at your door.

You look through the peephole and see a hooded figure. You almost freak out, and you couldn't stop your big mouth from moving.

“Um, who the hell are you?” You yell out, not wanting to let a stranger in.

“Taehyung, who else.” You frown at those words and you slowly opened the door. He hurries and enters before you could change your mind.

“What a-”

“You said blonde!” His voice startles you since you werent expecting it to be so loud.

“And you should be.” You were confused, wondering what was wrong.

“Then what is this?!” He yells and yanks his hood off, your eyes widen at the bright blue hair on his head.

“Why in the fuck is your haiR BLUE?” You wanted to pull your hair out.

“The hair person said that she messed up your and another designers hair colors, and she didn't realize until she did mine first and-”

“How the fuck can she mess up blonde and blue.” You quickly grab your phone and text Rowan to find out what the hell happened. Blue can't just come out, not without ruining his hair even more.

“Ugh, I'm so sorry Tae. Ill take the blame. You can either keep it or go back to black hair.” You shake your head and you go to open the door again. “We will have to do it in the morning. Good night.” You say, and with your body finally agreeing, it lets out a yawn.

“Mhmm lets smoke and talk.” He turns around and he plops on your couch.

“Aren't you mad about your hair?” You were sure he was pissed, and that's why you opened the door, not wanting to deal with it right now.

“Not really. Unless you want me to dye it black for tomorrow.” He started to pull off his jacket. You walked over to your kitchen, you couldn't stop looking at the back of his head. The way his hair was so bright, you couldn't stop thinking about how much more his facial features stood out. You went to one of your cookie jars. It was a matte black and a shape of a cube. It had shiny words on the front saying ‘cookie jar’. But really it's where you put all of your weed. You grabbed one of the bags and you opened a drawer and pulled out a couple rellos and a lighter. You take a deep breath and walk back out to the living room. You noticed that he turned it on a music channel. It was some type of classical music. It was quietly playing giving the room a chill vibe. You had a soft earth toned ‘L’ shaped couch. He was laid out in the corner. One foot laying on the shorter part. His arms stretched out. And his head tilted back and his eyes were closed. His head was nodding to the music a bit.

You sat down at the end of the couch, away from him and near your glass coffee table. It had your rolling tray and grinder. You pulled it a bit closer. And you started to grind down some weed. You were sure how much so you grind about 4 nugs.

“You roll.” You take the tray and you pass it to him. His eyes open and he just grabs the tray and open the rello packs and start to roll. You were looking at the music on your tv screen when you felt his eyes on you. You didn't want to look back at him so you just grab your phone so you could distract yourself.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see him sit up and sit more on the little part, he was facing you. You looked over and seen that he rolled two perfect, fat, blunts.

“Are we sharing, or having a blunt to ourselves.” He voice cuts through the music. You set your phone down and grabbed a lighter. You then walked over and sat partly in the corner. You patted the seat next to you and smile.

“Share.” Your smile shown your confidence, and Taehyung couldn't keep him smile off his face so he looks down, hiding it from you. He stands up and he turns toward you. His face was was settled into his usual hard face. His brows frowning a little, and jaw clenched. His bites down on his lower lip when climbs up. He sits against the pillows. You had to move a little so he could sit comfortably. But he startles you when he grabs you and pulls you toward him. Your back ended up against the other side and your legs laid over his. Once he sees that you're comfortable he grabs the lighter and one of the blunts and starts to light it. You look away back to the tv and start to listen to the now jazz music, hoping your heart beat would slow down.

“So, um when did you start tattooing?” You ask, wanting to talk about something other than work.

“I was 16 when I did my first tattoo.” He passes the blunt to you and you take it. You bring it up to your lips and take a hit. You look back at him, catching him staring. He looks down and pulls his sleeve up. He shows you his wrist, and points to a small ‘v’ right below his thumb.

“People called he V, I was ‘very trouble and very troubled’ as a child, and out of nowhere, people were calling me V. I don't remember when it happened or who started it. But…” He shrugs and sits back. You hit it a couple more times and give it back. You nodded again understanding. You felt weird, not used to his vibes. They felt so compelling, and dangerous. He made your heart beat so fast, and you couldn't just ignore that.

You both slowly smoke the blunts, enjoying the music and each others presence.

By the time you were done with both blunts were gone, your body was buzzing and your mind was only on one thing. Taehyung. You tried to think about everything that is stopping you from getting what you want, but you couldn’t. Tonight felt different. There was a reason why he came here.

“So, did you just come here to show me your hair and smoke? Because I have a busy day tomorrow.” You say slowly, making sure you get everything out right.

“No, there's something else.” He mumbles. His eyes were redder than the Devils balls. You almost wanted to laugh at how crazy he looked with bright blue hair and blazing red eyes.

“Well there’s something I want to do real quick.” You say and before he could say anything, you got up and straddled his lap. His eyebrows raised, questioning your motive.

You sat comfortably on his lap, and his arm rested around your waist.

“I don't care what you think of me, or how much I annoy you, at least right now I don't. But i'm high as hell and I really want to kiss you, can I?” You felt yourself almost pout a bit. You looked down at your legs sitting over his. His tatted arms laying on top of your legs, his fingers grasping yours clothes.

“Kiss me Yn.”His voice gave off as more of a need than a command. His voice pulled you closer to him and his hands met your face and your hands met his. Your lips connected and as soon as they did, your body felt like giving in a bit. You sunk into his hold, sinking into his grasp. One of his hands brought you closer by pulling you in by your waist.

Your eyes were closed matching his, you pulled away a little, not opening. You tilted your head to the other side and kissed him again. This one a little more intense, coming from both sides. Taehyung felt his stomach starting to turn and tumble, making him kiss you faster.

He suddenly pushed you over onto your back and climbed onto you. His lips finding yours again. Nothing was said between you two, only the sound of each others lips were heard. There was a big ball fire getting bigger and bigger between you both. You both felt it.

You knew that this may be in the heat of the moment, and that the strong attraction was only one sided. You knew you both were crazy stoned, and that can make things feel crazy. But his lips felt so good against your skin. His hands grabbing at you wanting to feel your skin against his, he felt so addicting.

You pulled away from him a bit, needing to breath. But he clearly doesn't, because he starts to trail down your neck. His large hands moving anything clothing that was in his way. His body was begging himself to mark you, he wants to see how long it took bruise your skin.

“Taehyung…”Your hand comes to his chest, more near his neck, wanting him to stop. “Don't do anything you’ll regret.” He pushes against your hand, not wanting to be stopped. But you pushed back, wanting him to snap out of it.

“I asked to kiss you, not for you to go all macho man.” You joke, but he doesn't laugh.

“What did you expect when you ask me to kiss you?” His voice was low and rough. His eyes were hidden behind his hair a bit so you couldn't see them.

“Mhm, maybe a few pecks and then you wither away in disgust.” You shrug a bit, you smiled a little, to take some of the tension away. But instead of smiling along, Taehyung frowns and huffs a bit.

Did you not see how fucking beautiful you were? You must have, it's practically your job.

“Hmm, well Ill see you tomorrow.” He leans down and pecks your cheek, then gets up. You watch as he grabs his things and he looks back down at you. He winks and leaves.

What the fuck just happened?

The next morning, you were so thankful that everything was going fine. Everyone was a little shocked that Taehyung walked in with crazy blue hair, and you could tell he hated everyone’s eyes on him. What did he expect with all of those tattoos on him. Right now you weren’t feeling any types of bad for him, especially since you had to tell you makeup artist not to tell anyone about the hickies she had to cover up this morning.

You had the other makeup stylist add a pop of color in their makeup. It would add something to the neutral color pallet of the soon to be dropped clothes. You picked out the clothing for Taehyung yourself, while some of the stylist picked the other clothes.

You gave him some high waisted loose black pants, with a tucked in turtleneck and some jewellery. Another outfit was a grey ripped up crop top with some black pants. You let him pick out whatever accessories.

Throughout the whole photoshoot, you stood there making sure everyone looked good.

You made Taehyung mess his hair up a bit, making it look a bit more edgy then put together. He didn't help you any by staring at you the whole time.

After the shoot, you rented out one of your favorite bars, so that everyone can enjoy some drinks after and enjoy the rest of the night.

You changed into a black slip dress and something chunky black sneakers. Something more casual so you could hopefully relax some.

When you entered the bar, it was already filled with the models and some of their friends. You also see Rowan and Soobin standing with some of your other friends. You go right to the bar wanting a drink.

You get a couple of shots in and start to mingle with everyone. People thanked you for inviting them out for some drinks and congratulated you on your up and coming success. You made sure to get some good pictures with some of the models, so that you could post them to instagram later. You wanted to hint to the world about what was soon to come, and you was going to show it off.

“Can I get a picture too?” A familiar voice comes from behind you. You turn around and freeze and who was standing in front of you.

You first true boyfriend, now ex. He broke your heart a couple of years ago. You met him before you really became anything. He was there through it all, the hate, the great. It was when you were around 600k on instagram, you were going around the internet pretty fast. Until you got a little too full of yourself. He didn't like it and said that you left him in the shadow. You tried to show him off, but he explained that he didn't want to be shown, but just shown some attention. You've realized what you did wrong and you tried to fix it. But he just left, left you behind like you left him.

“You want a picture?” Your voice was quiet, and the music was loud, but he was close enough to hear you. You felt stuck before. You werent sure what to do or what to say, you just kept the same face you give everyone. A happy, pretty girl, who had money and family issues. He nods a little, not taking his eyes off of you. He was giving you a expression that you remember, the old times passing through you head like a movie. It gave you chills that you didn't want to remember.

“Okay.” You watch him pull his phone out from his back pocket and he gives it to a guard that was also in charge of taking decent pictures. He knows how you like them done. You take off to the side, the people behind you happily moving to let you get your picture. You stood and posed, once the guard noticed that you both were posed, he takes a couple, some with flash some with out.

You walked back over and Jimin grabbed his phone. He smiled a little and scrolls through the pictures.

“They're all the same, but a but different. This one is the best.” He shows you and your eyes widen a bit. You were posing, the lighting was great showing off your makeup perfectly. Jimin also looked great. His pink hair showing brightly off of his all black outfit. His face looking down to you with this deep look into his eyes. “Is it okay to post?” He asks softly, his eyes boring into yours. You just nod and turn to walk away, to forget you even seen him. But he grabs your wrist pulling you back.

“Can I talk to you?” He asks nicely. You sigh, knowing that you really had no choice. You took some shots and you needed to get this done and over with. You both leave and go into the bar owner office. He wasn't there, but you needed a room you could lock, incase some yelling happens.

“What Jimin? Why are you here?” You ask crossing your arms across your chest.

“It's my first time back.” He mumbles frowning a little bit, making you confused.

“Back? Back from where?” You wanted to know where he went after he left that day.

“I-i…” He hesitates. His hard exterior slowly cracking. I had to leave, leave the country because my parents were relocated for their jobs. I was only 16 at the time, and you were gaining fame on social media. I was afraid to tell you because you were so happy with your following, that caused myself to put distance between us. But then you also did, like we already explained all those years ago.” He says trying his best to explain himself. You could tell he wasn't trying to mess anything up because he had that slight frown between his browns and his eyes looked sad. His voice was strong and slow.

“So you were going to break up with me no matter what?” You try to understand his words. But what you say throws him off a little. “I understand that we were young at the time, but anyone would rather break up because of distance issues then because one person blames the other for something. Especially when you're saying that we both caused this?!” You voice was starting to get louder and louder. He kind of panics, not wanting you to get upset.

“I know and this is why i'm trying to tell you this. To let you know that I know I was wrong. This is my first time back and I was too much of a little bitch to tell you until now. I've seen you grow so much, and i'm so proud of you. I'm back now, I want to try again.” He voice turns soft.

“You're here because you see that I gaining more succ-” “No! I've never cared about your fame and following! You know that!” He almost feels insulted that you would even think that. “I know that you are mad at me,”

“I'm not mad at you, what happened, happened years ago. I've accepted the fact that you didn't want me, let alone make things work.”

“I only stopped your advances, because I know I was moving no matter what.”

“Whatever Jimin.” You sighed.

“Lets try and see if we still have that spark between us. Please? I've never stopped thinking about you.” His voice whispers, as he pulls you close. His touch felt so calming like before. One hand going to the back and the other trailing itself up from your stomach to your neck to your face. His body was like a magnet. Falling to his charms like before. Your lips moments away.

“I don't think that's a good idea. We were so young before.”

“Which is why I said we should try. Who knows what will happen.” His mouth starts to form a bit of a smile, until you tease him a bit by leaning forward going to kiss him. His face suddenly gets serious and his eyes turn deeper, ready.

A large knock on the door interrupts you both. You felt his body tense up and you push him away.

“YN? Sorry to interrupt but Taehyung is here. I thought you would want to-” You stopped Rowan by swinging the door open, exposing Jimin to her. Her eyes widen when she seen who was behind you. It was practically her job knowing you. So when she seen you sigh and irritation in your eyes. But then Jimins hands were grasping your waist and he seemed upset as well. Maybe she should've just said your name and then told you face to face.

“Sorry! I think i've had too many drinks and I-” “It's fine Rowan…” You stop her from going any further.

“Who is Taehyung?” His voice was comes from behind you. You felt his hands pull you back a bit.

“Chill, he’s a model. I just signed him. Stay here.” You push him back with your hand on his chest. When you knew he wouldn't follow, you turn to find Taehyung with Rowan following behind. She tells you that she's at the bar, and that she's most likely going home in a few. You turn back and give her a hug and tell her goodnight.

You walk towards the bar, looking for the blue haired man. You see him standing there, on the side already looking at you. His eyes were low, his head tilted down some, making his gaze that much more intense. You felt a little nervous walking up to him, his felt upset about something.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when you reach him, you stood two feet away. He doesn't say anything at first.

“Why would you invite Bogum and Sinsi, when you knew that i'd come?” His voice was low, and after he said it he looked like he regretted it. You looked behind you and see them standing right in his line of vision.

“Bogum is a A celebrity. I'm surprised he's here myself. He's dating Sinsi isn't he? Why wouldn't she be at his side?” Then you look up into his eyes. “Plus I always do this after shoots as a little celebration for getting a intense job done. It's not a requirement. Leave or ignore them Taehyung.” You were pretty blunt but you didn't feel like dealing with his drama tonight. He just scoffs.

“Yn?” A girls voice comes from behind you, you turn around and see Sinsi and Bogum walking up. You were suddenly stuck in a thick tension.

“Sinsi told me a lot about you. I wanted to come by and ask for a partnership.” Bogum looks down at you and smile. You were confused to why he was asking you here, and now. Why didn't his team connect to your team?

Taehyung wasn't having it. He remembers the day he started to hate Bogum. When he asked Sinsi for a partnership, more like be in a drama together and ‘fall in love’. Taehyung couldn't help but to scoff at Bogum.

“Oh, I'm guessing good things. Ill give you the number of my PA and she will contact your team.” She smile giving him her number. He smiles down at you and enters it into his phone.

“Hi Taehyung.” Sinsi looks at him with her soft looking eyes. He just looks away from her, not wanting her to be near him. He didn't know why, or when the sudden change in feelings happened. But he looks down at your body, as you talk to Bogum, then he looks over to Sinsi. He instantly knew that you were so much better than her. He can't believe that he kept going after her, after she left him for someone else. Everytime she pops into his head, he eternally cringes.

“Well I hope to see you soon.” Park Bogum takes Sinsi away, leaving you and Taehyung alone.

Within the next month, you've kept busy in your work. You didn't want to slow down, at least not at the moment. Even with staying busy, Taehyung was on one side of your brain, in one ear. Since he was there with you every step of the way in your work towards your clothing. He wanted to know everything. It was kind of annoying that he asked so many questions and asked to watch you, or come with you. But at the end of the day he was interested in what you did and that somehow made it to your heart. It made you like him even more. You were annoyed with yourself, you didn't want to get attached so fast, but yet you couldn't help it.

But on the other side, in your other ear, Jimin. He was texting you, wanting to see you, sweet talking you. You would be completely lying if you said that you never wanted to see Jimin again. He’s grown so much since you seen him last. You don't know how he gotten prettier, in fact you would like to know his secret.

He seems so much more mature than before, darker. Like you said before, he’s grown and you were interested in what he had to offer.

But the thing is, you were overwhelmed. You didn't know what to do, you didn't want to do anything wrong. So you used your work as an excuse when you didn't want to answer something, or when a moment was to intense to handle at the moment.

Taehyung's hair faded into a mint green, it made him look softer at times, even with all of the tattoos. He always complained about it, and you always fought back saying that it was a pretty color on him. It always shut him up. You started to think that he was complaining more and more just to hear you call him pretty. But you doubt it.

#Taehyung #kim taehyung #kth #v #bts #yoongi #min yoongi #jimin #park jimin #angst #smut #fluff #tattoo au #tattoo #social media #social media au #ambw #kpop #kpop ambw

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talentsvn-blog · 5 years

Text

My day

Genre: angst, fluff maybe?

Words: 2k

A tingling sound on her bedside table woke her up. The quietness of her room was now interrupted by the buzzing of her phone. Lazily, she opened her eyes, the dim light of the sunrise hitting her face through the thin curtains. Her eyes quickly narrowed, taking their time to adjust to the upcoming sunlight. She left out a big sigh, not moving a muscle but getting annoyed at the bothersome noise. She knew she had to get up and go to work, but she just didn't feel like leaving the comfort of her bed just yet.

Burrying her face into the pillow, she extended her arm to grab her phone and turn off the alarm. It took her a few seconds but she managed to do it. She considered her alternatives for this monday morning: she could call in sick and spend the day doing absolutely nothing, or she could grow up and get ready to go to work. The first option was very tempting, and she foolishly had considered it, but she couldn't risk getting fired, not when she finally had the job she's always wanted.

She stayed still for a moment, looking up at the ceiling of her room. Her eyes wandered through each one of the stickers glued to the surface: the stars, the planets, their satellites and some other celestial bodies, all of them forming a beautiful scenery above her; the sun was the last thing she saw, right in the middle of the system, giving it a purpose to exist and big enough so the delicate details around it could be seen. To be a black and white print it was truly breathtaking. She turned to the her side, the empty space on her bed was still neat and made. She touched the mattress gently with her fingerstips, a small sigh leaving her lips at the memories in her head. It has nearly been one year since the last time she saw him but she swore the lingering smell of his sweet perfume was still as vivid as it was when he still was there, at least that's what she told herself; she didn't want to recognise the fact that it was her mind playing the trick, it was better than accepting the truth. His smell faded the same time he left, and it wasn't going to come back anytime soon.

She got up, stretching a bit before starting her weekly morning routine. The empty feeling only grew bigger and bigger with every action she made and she couldn't help but wonder if he still remembered it. Did he still remember the rose colour of her cheeks in the morning? Did he still remember how it felt when he hugged her from behind while she was treating him with his favourite morning dish? Did he still remember the sweet taste of the homemade birthday cake she always left ready the night before so he could blow the candles the next morning before she had to leave to work? Did he still remember the addictive taste of her cream covered lips after he had a bite of the cake she so lovingly made for him?

She still had 15 minutes left before leaving. Giving her phone one last glance, she turned it off and placed it in the back pocket of her black dress pants. Standing in front of the full length mirror in her room, she checked herself for the last time. Her hair was loose to the side and her makeup tried its best to cover the bags underneath her eyes and give life to her tired face, a single cherry colour decorating her lips. "This is your colour" he had said, a slight blush creeping on his face, "I know you have 10 different lipsticks of this shade but I thought this one would look really pretty on you". And he was right, the item easily became her favourite ever since; it wasn't because it was just the perfect shade for her, nor because it was a new product from this brand she loved either, it was special because it was a gift from him, the only person she was deeply in love with. He had gave it to her on the first day of work after getting promoted a few months ago.

Of course she remembered today, how could she not after years of being together. Even if he was far away from her, surrounded by the people who loved him the most, she knew deep inside he remembered her too. They both broke up in good terms, with the hope of being friends again in the future, but that didn't mean the pain wouldn't knock at her door the next day at 3 in the morning, 4 hours before leaving to work. She wanted to blame someone, she wanted to explode and scream to the top her lungs at the responsible of such an agonizing and consuming feeling in her chest, but there was no one at the other end. Just her. And him. But not together.

He lived in a world way too big for her and they both knew it. She was thankful he still tried.

She grabbed her phone again, searching through her contacts his name. Everyone had told her to delete his number, to throw away everything that belonged to him, that it wasn't healthy for her to keep them because it would bring back the pain, but she just couldn't do it. It was like throwing away all the good memories she kept to herself, memories she didn't want to forget but at the same time didn't want to consume her life. So she kept them, in a box at the back of her closet where no one could see it, not even her.

She stared at his number for a minute, a shaking finger above the call button. Everything in her head was a mess, did she really want to do this? Was she being stupid for letting her emotions take her where she is now? Apparently yes.

She didn't notice when her thumb made contact with the screen until it was too late. In panic, she dropped the phone and let it fall to the floor. But the call was still going and her stupidity was growing with each impulsive decision she made. Hurriedly, she dropped to her knees and picked it up with shaky hands, only to realise that the call was already taken.

"Hello."

It was a strange feeling, one she hadn't experienced in a really long time. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, painfully aiming to escape and leave her on her own. Maybe he deleted her number, if she hung up now, there was no way he could know it was her.

"y/n?" Her name echoed through the speaker, barely a whisper in contrast to the loud voices that could be heard with his.

"Uh, yes." She said, not trusting her own voice to keep a conversation right now without tripping over her words. She stayed there, kneeled down in front of the mirror with her eyes closed, nervousness taking over her senses.

"How are you?"

She didn't know. "Uhm, yes, I mean, I'm fine, I just, I just called to wish you a happy birthday."

She could hear music on the other end of the line along with people talking. She was happy he was having a good time. "And now that I said it, I think I should hang up, right? I mean, I completely forgot about the timezone and I don't want to interrupt your celebration. So, uhm... yes, that's all. Happy birthday, and have a good d-"

"Wait!" He interrupted. She heard him moving around, maybe trying to find a quieter place to talk. The realisation made her way more nervous than she already was. It was the first time in months she heard his voice again, and he was already planning on keeping the conversation going? She wasn't ready to do that. It was enough to know he was doing fine, just like she was supposed to be.

"Don't worry about me, I should have checked the time before calling and I have to leave in a couple of minutes anyway, so it is better if I just end-"

"I missed you too". He said.

She froze, her voice getting stuck in her throat. The hand that wasn't holding her phone was placed on the carpeted floor, a few seconds ago trying to get her up from her kneeling position to now lose control over any kind of strength she had left, letting her fall onto her backside.

"I've been waiting for your morning call all day;" she heard a door being closed on the other side of the line, his voice clearer than before. "I don't know, I just knew you wouldn't forget".

He remembered. Of course he did. Even after parting ways, it had always been quite easy to follow his steps, maybe that was the hardest part at the moment of getting over someone who was constantly in the public eye. It did nothing deleting him from her social media because he always found a way to get back to her; she couldn't ignore the sad and melancholic feeling that radiated from him the first time she saw him after he left, and later on she couldn't ignore either the brightness on his face when he was seen hanging out with friends and colleagues from his unpredictable lifestyle. His life wasn't a secret to her, but unlike him, she didn't have a global reputation behind her back to keep him updated on her being, instead, she disappeared the moment she walked out of his life.

"Are you still there?" She wasn't, at least her sanity didn't.

"Yes, I... I'm sorry, I was just... thinking." She looked at her reflection in front of her, chest raising up and down along with her breathing. She didn't notice how much she had bit her bottom lip until she saw the remains of her lipstick, the colour fading away.

"I was too much, right?" She could sense the nervousness on his voice, "I just turned this even more awkward, god, what's wrong with me".

She smiled, if she closed her eyes she swore she could imagine a flustered man on the other side, pacing around the room and trying his best to calm himself. "Nothing's wrong with you, I am the one who's not ready to talk about this yet. But, to be honest, you were right... I missed you too..." She whispered, only for him to hear.

He giggled. "You still do this, huh? There's no one in here, no one will tease us if you say it out loud, and even if there were, I wouldn't mind it".

"You wouldn't mind it but you'd be red from head to toe because of the teasing". She laughed, running a hand through her hair.

"Touché." There was a short silence; she could tell he wanted to say something, but he didn't.

"I'm already late for work" she smiled, sighing against the speaker.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't know-"

"It's okay..." She got up, her legs shaking a bit because of the uncomfortable position she has been sitting.

"I would like to keep talking with you; can I... can I call you later?"

"You know... What if I call you later? Not today, and probably not tomorrow either... But I will, soon, what do you say?"

"As long as you're okay with it, I'll wait whatever it takes to have you in my life again".

She left out a shaky breath, her heart beating fast against her chest. "Then wait for me". She grabbed her purse and her keys, leaving her apartment. "I guess this is a goodnight for you, isn't?"

"Yes, it is" he chuckled.

"Goodnight, Youngjae". She said, her voice quieter than before.

"Have a good day, y/n". He whispered back.

------

I was listening to 내 하루 (My day) by Ars when I wrote this. Sorry for any mistakes or incoherence, I kinda liked the story so I felt like posting it :)

#got7 #got7 writing #got7 fiction #choi youngjae

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rcfcel · 5 years

Text

* / 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔟*𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔰 ! bet you thought you'd seen the last of me ! lol apparently i like to challenge myself and just haD to bring in my new man so yeah hi , meet raf / rj ! i'm v excited for y'all to meet him — fair warning , i'm starting from scratch with him cause i got #inspired so i apologize if the info below is a mess ! pls love us .

( tommy martinez, cis male, he/him ) i just saw RAFAEL MICHELENA walking down the streets of provincetown the other day playing CHATEAU by BLACKBEAR out loud. rumor has it that the TWENTY THREE year old is GENEROUS, but can also be AGGRESSIVE — overall they’re a MAVERICK. they remind me of LEATHER SEATS IN BLACK CADILLACS, CIGARETTES SMASHED TO ASHES IN ASHTRAYS, & MALT WHISKEY POURED OVER ICE. ( lenny the pooh, 5, antarctica, she/her )

—— * / 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔰 :

full name : rafael johan michelena

nicknames : raf , rj

age / dob : twenty3 / february 14 , 1996

gender : cis male ( he / him )

sexuality : openly bisexual

occupation : firefighter

hometown : provincetown , ma

label : the maverick ( an unorthodox or independent-minded person )

—— * / 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶 :

so dear rafael here was raised by a single father after his mother passed away shortly after he was born due to complications during labour . raf’s father never really wanted kids as he’d been wanting to focus on his paramedic career and was worried he wouldn’t be home enough to be with his family , but his beloved wife had assured him everything would work out in the end — which , of course , it didn’t really because he was left alone with a baby boy he didn’t know how to take care of .

his dad struggled for most of raf’s childhood , having to juggle both his demanding career and an even more demanding child , but with the help of close family and a very generous family who lived next door and took care of raf whenever his father worked night shifts , it all did work out in the end , just as his late mother had promised .

despite his father being away so much , raf developed a very strong relationship with his father . when he was young , his father was away a lot because he was just starting in paramedics so he got stuck with the less desirable shifts — but as rj grew older , his father moved up the ranks of his career and finally made it into a position that didn’t keep him away from home as late , allowing the two to spend some actual time together .

from a young age , raf knew he wanted to save lives like his father . fun fact : one night when he was young and staying over at the neighbour’s house , he drew a little picture of his father in uniform and then drew himself wearing a little uniform too — the neighbour showed this to his father when he picked him up and the grown man damn near cried .

raf has always been super proud of his dad for chasing his dreams and taking on each obstacle that came his way .

at first , he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a paramedic — which he did , for a short while . after his school graduation , he went to school to get his emt ( emergency medical technician ) certificate and then worked to become a paramedic , by the time he was twenty one he was working the same job in provincetown his dad had been when he was young .

after about a year and a half , raf realized he wanted more . as a paramedic he worked closely with the provincetown firefighters and had always found their bravery inspiring . he got along with the crew well and one night over drinks he confided in them about possibly following along their career path instead . of course they all jumped to say do it , while also giving raf good advice and facts about the job , but nothing they said scared raf away from it — if anything , he was even more excited .

so fast forward a few months , and a very gruelling entrance exam and training period , and he switched out his paramedic uniform for a firefighter uniform and joined his buddies in the station .

it’s been about a year now since he first put on that uniform and rj truly hasn’t looked back since . the hours are rough and the job is laborious , but it’s also super rewarding and he wouldn’t change it for the world .

currently , he lives in a cozy ass apartment in provincetown on his own , although he spends many nights at the station when he’s on duty so i have this headcanon that his apartment is like .. hotel raf lmAO like need a place to crash and get away from shit ? there’s a spare key under the mat .

—— * / 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 :

labels(s) : the maverick , the hedonist , the contingent

maverick : due to his father’s extraneous job , raf grew extremely independent at a young age . when he was finally old enough to stay home and take care of himself , he honestly thrived .

hedonist : working in such emotionally challenging jobs has taught raf to really live life to its fullest and treasure every moment . he never takes anything for granted and is almost always looking for a fun time during his days off .

contingent : while his independence is clear in how he can take care of himself and make his own decisions , raf is incredibly dependent on those around him for support and companionship . he struggles with being alone and is in constant need of company and friendship .

traits : generous , charming , aggressive , protective , passionate , diligent , indulgent , short - tempered .

aesthetics : leather seats in black cadillacs , thick ringlets curling around chiseled features , black jeans with a lighter in the back pocket , cigarettes smashed to ashes in ashtrays , malt whiskey poured over ice , callused hands stuffed in the pockets of a leather jacket .

soundtrack : honestly , i’ve been listening to blackbear during raf’s entire conception so you can literally just listen to his entire discography to get a feel for his vibe .

personality : while he inherited his father’s passion , drive , and general kind demeanour , raf definitely made a name for himself with his slightly mysterious aura at first glance — maybe it’s the mostly black wardrobe , the cigarette that usually dangles from his lips , or the way his brow creases whenever he listens to someone speak like they’re the only person in the universe , he’s a little intimidating at first — but honestly , anyone who really knows him would laugh at people who comment on his mystery : “ yeah , i thought he was gonna be a total asshole at first , could not have been more wrong though ” has definitely been said numerous times about him .

raf’s actually probably the biggest teddy bear in ptown . his heart is somehow bigger than his hair and he welcomes everyone into his life with open arms ( after a short trial run to make sure they’re not gonna fuck with him of course )

he truly loves his friends more than anything . i’m not kidding when i say his apartment is hotel raf cause legit if u need a place to crash , even if it’s 4 in the morning , you can knock on his door and he’ll likely even give up his bed for you .

wears his heart on his sleeve , probably a little too much for his own good , but thrives off of honesty and trust so he’s definitely your go to guy if you’ve got shit going on .

also your go to guy if you need someone’s ass kicked . he’s a firefighter for crying out loud , he drinks preworkout like it’s water and could probably bench the entire snack pack lbr .

he’s a big old hopeless romantic too — he was born on valentine’s day after all .

—— * / 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 :

once again , let me scream into the void that i am open to pretty much anything . lay it all on me , give me your worst and just rIP my heart out why don’t you . but ! below is a list of ideas i brainstormed up for raf

i really want someone from the family that helped take care of him when he was little !

neighbours , childhood best friends , childhood crush / first kiss

gym buddies PLS give raf a buddy he can call up to go play basketball or challenge to a weight lifting comp LOL

past / present hook ups ! raf’s an emotional guy but his job is stressful as fuck and he def needs soME sort of way to unwind .

exes ! mayhaps they dated in high school and broke up cause theY went off to college while raf stayed back in ptown .

brOS OHMYGODPLS give me joey and chandler , jake and charles , troy and chAD

a brother / sister friendship pls ! someone he can be way too protective of .

platonic soulmates ! my fav !!

an angsty flirtationship / skinny love type deal .

—— * / 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 :

his apartment is suPER masculine . like exposed brick walls , brown leather couches , stainless steel appliances , dark oak tables and shelves , probably big windows all over the place cause he loves natural sunlight . and the whole snack pack 100% knows where the spare key is in case of emergencies ( insert that one scene of friends where monica’s like “ i gave you that key for emergencies ” and phoebe’s like “ we were out of doritos ” )

he’s got a lil grey pit bull named lily that he saved a few months ago ! she’s his pride and joy .

like .. rarely uses his phone . he’s got all the social medias , but only really checks it when someone tags him in something or whatever . prefers to call over text cause texting annoys him , he’s an impatient fuck .

definitely is the pack’s lil doctor . he’ll always unwind and have a fun time , but will 100% be on alert at all times for accidents or anything bad that could happen . and if it does happen , he’s first on the scene — i mean , why wouldn’t you want a licensed paramedic that looks like tommy martinez icing your sprained ankle right ?

he’s never really travelled much , aside from the times he’s been called to neighbouring towns / cities during big emergencies and such with his crew . he’s got major wanderlust and really wants to travel to venezuela and such , but he’s also perfectly content staying in ptown for now .

he’s a celiac — idk why , i just wanted to give him some sort of weakness cause he seems too perfect rn .

#snackpackintro #—— ` . ooc !#i didn't really proofread so i apologize for mistakes

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dropsofletters · 5 years

Text

through a screen

title: through a screen pairing: na jaemin/reader genre: twitch streamer!au summary: when mark lee invites her to play videogames for his stream, she never expected to be laughing out loud at someone’s jokes. that voice without a face was one that she could not easily get out of her head. type: fluff/humor

“I promise it is a one-time thing.”

“Mark, listen, I have homework and—”

“But please! It’s been a long time since you’ve played with us and I need content for my stream tonight.”

“No. I’m shy.”

“…Please.”

Media loves to talk about long distance relationships, how hard they were and how they could easily be destroyed by the distance between the couple, but it is rare to talk about long-distance friendships. Suddenly, laughter was passed through screens and video-calls turned into tales of old memories in which they were all together. Going to college was part of fulfilling her dreams and earning the title of an adult, working in the future to build her life from the ground to the skies—hopefully—, so that meant that she had to give everything away just to study. Almost like the clouds falling on top of her with dulling rain, that was how she felt when she read her denial letter for all the universities in Seoul, particularly the ones she wanted to go to the most, and she settled for some public college that had somewhat of a good degree for her to earn, somewhere not too far away from where her friends were.

Normally, she did not even have the time to watch Mark’s Twitch streams live because she had to study in the little time she gets off from classes and her part-time job. Her own goals had taken her social life away with every ignored message that she forgot to reply to, as well as every moment she had denied her friends the pleasure of playing some stupid videogame with her.

You see, she does not quite know why she accepted on playing Fortnite out of all things, but her headphones were tightly wrapped around her head, her microphone seated in front of her lips, her legs spread under her desk and her fingers hovered over the keyboard as Mark spoke about what they were going to do before the stream started. It was quite interesting how Mark had gotten some following in the social media, for he was shy to start doing it at first and at the time, it was only something Jeno had dared him to do, but then it turned into an actual hobby of his.

Because Mark Lee must be some weird creature of sorts—he studies, he works, he has a girlfriend and he also gets to spend time with his friends and play videogames with them. She doesn’t know if she’s jealous…or jealous. You know, there is not a ‘in-between’.

Life tends to give you lemons, but they are mostly rotten—she once heard, and she truthfully thought that she had made lemonade out of the lemons life gave her, but they gave her an immense amount of aches, on the bigger part they were headaches. Either way, hearing the sound of her friend’s voice was enough to calm her down. Jeno’s sweet laughter, Renjun’s never-ending questions to annoy Mark and altogether, Mark explaining what they were doing to do. She saw her character on the screen, as well as the names of her friends when someone tried to join the group.

She does not pay attention to it, instead, she picks up her phone and checks the time, as well as gulping down some water to hydrate herself. It is only when Renjun comments about it that Mark pays attention to the person trying to join their server. “Uh…Mark, bro, sorry to ruin your rant or whatever but before you start the stream…there is this one person called Nana trying to join the game.”

Mark finally shut his mouth, thankfully, but he did not say anything important. He rambles about how it could be one of his followers, as if his two thousand followers on the social media actually meant something important. “If someone dares to make a joke about that user and the song Havana, I’ll personally stop calling you my friend.” She comments, moving around the cramped space by her desk. Technically, it was a shared computer with her two roommates and she was trying her hardest to buy a laptop, but she had a lot of things to take care of monetarily, so it had been hard. The dorm is too small, the place smells like vanilla perfume and gallingly so, for her nostrils are tired of the smell and one of her roommates always leaves her used pads everywhere. It’s disgusting and college life really should not be like this. She would much rather live alone, but that would mean paying more than she is paying already and she can’t even do that properly.

Jeno chuckles at her antics, however, not noticing just how stressed his friend was. “Come on, don’t ruin my joke.”

“I knew you would say something like that.” She prompts with a smile on her face. God, she missed Jeno—it had been well over seven months since the last time she saw him.

“But it is fitting.”

“It’s corny, dude.”

Mark whines, trying his best to make his stream as perfect as possible. Even with something as stupid and superficial as social media, Mark tried his best. “Should I let them in? They could be a follower and if I decline, then I look like an asshole—”

Renjun takes that as an opportunity to say with the most precise Mark imitation. “Followers. Oh yeah, dude, I’m Canadian and I have a lot of followers. Look, my last Instagram post got like…dude, I don’t know, like fifty likes? And my mom wasn’t liking it so…awesome.” She covers her mouth to stop the giggle that threatened to spill past them but Jeno laughed obnoxiously loud, probably throwing his head back against the headrest of his bed with the joyous feeling that burst around his chest.

“Very funny.” Mark added after a fake laugh and he clapped his hands together obnoxiously near the microphone to make the trio pay attention to him. “Tell me, quickly! I have to start this stream—”

She sighs, for Mark is always worried about everything and his voice is getting higher with anxiety. “Let them in. Besides, I think I could be leaving early because I told someone I have homework to complete.”

“Yeah, anyways. They’re in.”

What she notices first about said Nana person was that he was a guy and that his laugh was really beautiful. It was breathy and it appeared first when he continued to interrupt Mark in his introduction, falsely praising him and pretending to be enthralled by Mark’s doings. The man was annoyed, quite clearly, for the image on his stream showed his annoyed expression behind a smile that reached his high-cheekbones whenever the user Nana spoke. She continued to press down on the keyboard, trying her hardest to play without a smile on her face but she could only concentrate on what Nana said.

Sometimes, he fell silent and other times, he said the most random of things. He was funny and clearly joined just to tease whoever was the leader of the group of people playing, but Mark did not think it would turn out that way. At the beginning of the stream, Nana had asked a bunch of questions towards the group of people and then, his target immediately became Mark. Luckily for her, really, because she had not spoken a lot throughout the stream and Nana became the center of attention, as well as helping her with her non-plotted revenge against Mark for interrupting her time to do homework.

For some reason, she imagined him to be a flirt of some sort, with a huge smile and possibly a bit of a nerdy look—but she could be wrong, she is just judging by a voice and what he tells Mark, but it is impossible for her not to laugh at what he is saying.

Like when Mark saved him in the game and he cooed. “Ooh, Mark is so manly. I’d give you a kiss if you were by my side, bro.” And Mark almost screamed at the mere mocking tone on the man’s voice.

Or when he put damage traps all around the insides of the building and Mark was the first one to fall on them, leading to his group of friends laughing at him. Nana, of course, had to say something witty: “Don’t be falling for me now, Mark, alright?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re really annoying?” Mark asks as the second round they played comes to a stop and Nana released a short laugh. There was no way in hell that there was no one affected by that voice, because she quite clearly liked the boyish tone that came with it.

“You’re boring, Mark. Get over it.” Renjun says at that exact moment in between laughter and Nana doubles over in laughter as he says so. Renjun was always one to tease Mark the most.

“Am not—!”

“I am not annoying, Mark.” Nana indicates with ease and she knows he is plotting something. “It’s just…from the moment I heard your voice, I just felt like we were meant to be together.”

Jeno chuckles at that. “On God, this is the best day of my life. Oh fuck—”

Mark can’t keep his serious façade and he presses his face to his cold palms as a smile spreads across his face. He must be blushing, too, for he was quite a bit of a serious gamer if anything. “I have a girlfriend, please stop.”

Nana responds immediately. “…You just broke my heart.”

“Oh my God—”

“Dude,” Mark breathes out. “I’ll kick you out. You have to be joking around.”

“Don’t kick him out, Mark!” Renjun says in between laughter and she bites on the straw of her water bottle as she chuckles. She would love to say something, but she is too shy, instead, she agrees with Renjun with some laughter of her own.

“Mark—”

But before Nana could continue with his rambling love confession towards Mark, he was kicked out and that earned a few groans from his group of friends. After all, she understands that Mark needed to control the situation, but Nana was funny. He had made her laugh like no one else had in the time that she has spent worried about college and work, as if he was an antidote, a calming breeze that passed by her in a frenzy. She thanks him silently and decides to play a bit more with her friends, opting to relax a bit more. She needed it.

Sometimes, timing is the worst. Life just knows one thing and that one thing was that it piles everything bad together and makes it arrive into her life all at once. She had not been paid yet, her head was thumping with a headache, she did not have enough money to eat a filling meal for dinner and she had almost failed a test that she studied very hard for. Her face was pressed to her pillow, her tears spilled in the shape of her worries, the soft caress of the air conditioner in her room entering by the small gap that her striped shirt left after it had ridden up her skin.

Suddenly, life felt like it was just like how she had never imagined it. She felt lonely, lost and everything all at once and she could not do anything about it. You know, life is not like changing a tire or cutting your hair off, life is more than that—there is time involved and sometimes, waiting is the only thing she can do. She waits for one day where her pillow will be a comforting space for her to lay on instead of being a space for her think about the things that worry her late at night. Someday, sometime, things will look up…but for now, she is only looking down at the marks of mascara she had left on her pillow.

Great. Just what she needed—laundry to take care of because she had completely forgotten that mascara stains were very difficult to get off.

She sits up on her bed, pressing her hands to her eyes to feel the bloated skin, tender and reddened, definitely hot. She pushes her shirt down, opting to take a shower to refresh her body but her mind tells her that she really needs to wash the cloth that covers her pillow. She puts her hand against her head, elbow resting on her knee with her legs parted, feet crossed and covered in her favorite pair of socks with a pattern of little pandas. Her fingers hover over her phone and she decides to unlock it, seeing if she had gotten any email from her professors or classmates, then going onto her Kakao and noticing that there were a hundred texts on her group-chat with her friends in Seoul.

And she really thought about it for a good second, whether to ignore them or simply respond, for she had not been communicating with her friends that often. In her opinion, why would she have to talk to them when in reality she doesn’t even feel like talking? Sure, it sounded egotistic and they were worried, but there was not a single cell inside her body that could care about such thing. She’s becoming an adult and the worst kind of them, those who forget free time and friends are important as well.

One thing that shall be known about Renjun is that he is a little devil, but he cowards out whenever someone threatens him after his jokes. He is also easy to make fun of and normally, his jokes turned around towards him. It is because of that, that she is not surprised when she reads Renjun’s text: “Jeno, have you tried the lip-balm I got you?”

Donghyuck, another one that was too busy to respond on the group-chat, took the time to add. “You guys are going to kiss?”

“No.” Jeno answered. “Wait, two no’s. I won’t kiss Renjun and I haven’t tried the lip-balm. Why?”

She could imagine Renjun chuckling to himself, for some reason, there had to be something wrong with that lip-balm. “No reason.”

Jeno did not say anything about it, neither did he pry, but he did say something curious. “Try the one I gave to you!”

Renjun adds a puzzled emoticon. “It’s in my backpack. Too tired to look for it.”

“Do it.”

“You say as if it’s so easy to get up and look for it. My room is a mess and I just got back from class.”

Jeno continued, however. “Do it, Renjun.”

“Get married already.” Donghyuck commented and Mark added a finger pointing upwards to indicate he agreed.

To save herself the time to read over their complaints, she went to the very last part of the chat and she saw that they were screaming at one another, in all caps, for some reason that was now known to her. “Lee Jeno, do I have to go to the fucking hospital?! My lips taste like ass!”

“I don’t know. It’s your fault! I only exchanged the lip-balms!”

“But I put some fish thing in yours!”

Mark replied: “That’s what you get for being a dumbass.”

“What if I’m allergic?”

Then, she thinks it’s time to join the conversation. “You are probably not.” She types first and then she continues as she stands up from her bed with her pillow tucked in between her arm and her ribcage. “Wash your mouth and brush your teeth.”

The fluttering touch of the coldness pressed to her sock-clad feet was nothing compared to the fuzzy feeling that settled deep in her chest when she read the messages from her friends. She had various friends in her class, but they could never compare to the few friends she has kept from her times in Seoul. “The woman of the night, look!” Jeno prompts and she can’t help but smile.

Mark continues. “We thought you hated us.”

“I could never.”

Almost in cue, Jeno talks to her. The two were always close, for Mark was too busy, Donghyuck was too lively, hyper as well and Renjun was a close second but his jokes settled distastefully on her tongue sometimes. Whenever she thinks of them, she imagines a garden of flowers that bloom each on their own and she is always the tiny flower that holds onto the small hope of blooming into something beautiful. Her petals are falling, scattering across the ground while she is always inside her own thoughts. She’s running out of time to grow. “I’m surprised you didn’t text sooner, considering Nana is definitely your type.”

Nana? As in the stream guy? She had not heard much of him for the past month and a half, or maybe she had not read enough texts in the group-chat to be able to tell if he was her type of not. Surely, he was funny but that had nothing to with types. “What are you talking about? Just because he is funny doesn’t mean he has to be my type.”

Donghyuck agrees with her. “Yeah, she has never fallen for me and I am the funniest, let’s be honest.”

Renjun types soon after. “Thanks guys, you completely ignored my predicament and started to talk about something else.” She can’t help but chuckle as she reads that message after putting the cloth of her pillow inside the washing machine and looking at the pillow itself to see if it had any stains. “And yes, I thought she would like him, too. He is like one of those flower boys people draw in Webtoons.”

“Not that you read those or anything.” Mark comments and Renjun follows soon after.

“…I’m not afraid to say I do.” Renjun confesses. “Jeno, show her the picture.”

“You’re stupid if you think I’m just going to like a guy just because he looks like someone I could like.”

But then, Jeno does send a picture after giving a brief explanation of who Nana was. Apparently, he was a streamer as well, only that he was more popular for joking around with people in different games and making them annoyed. He had more followers than Mark and his name was not Nana—it was Na Jaemin. His hair was the color of cherry blossoms in the picture, two fingers up to show a peace sign in the mirror self-portrait, a red hoodie covering his frame and the background was a simple bathroom. His eyes were sweet and his smile was diabetes-inducing, like a strawberry shortcake in person.

Okay, so maybe Na Jaemin is cute.

Maybe—but then again, she has been locked in the space of her college for what seemed like ages and she had not seen a pretty boy in…months. So she does not give him much importance, but she does comment on the screenshot that was send in the group-chat.

“…Fuck, he’s cute.”

Once again, he helped her forget about the worries of a stressful day.

There were some things that she’d rather keep a secret.

Just like how the clothes she is wearing are not that clean, for she had worn it two times already and while the white crop top underneath her pink tank-top looked cute with the, also pink, skirt that wrapped around her waist nicely. Just like how she pretends she has her life together and she is always happy while working in a boutique that sells wedding dresses—no one likes a bad employee and she has to pretend she is excited for the women that go there to try on dresses for a little too long. It’s not like all the dresses there are worth more than all the salaries she has earned while working there and it’s definitely not the case when she says she just wants to go back home and pretend her life is not a nightmare, when in reality she is living under so much stress…enough to anger her when she realizes all the work and studying she has done for the past year has been for nothing.

She pays for her part of the rent and for education, she pays for food and for anything that she needs—textbooks, for example, or printing if that is the case. All she wanted was to be able to save some money to take a train to Seoul and go visit her friends for Renjun’s birthday but over three weeks ago, she had to take all her savings to pay her debts and surely, it was necessary and the boys would understand if she ever did so much as explaining that to them, but it was embarrassing.

You know, it was one of those cases in which she did not want to actually said she needed help or that she was going through a hard time. She put a masquerade of lies on, trying to smile through every ounce of power that was taken off her body. When was the last time she stayed up late to watch her favorite shows or talk to her friends? When was the last time she went out to a place she wanted to go?

A long time ago, apparently.

More inviting that spending a night out with her friends, having big plates of food filling their stomachs and then singing the birthday song to Renjun just to see a smile on his face? There were only a few things. It had been Donghyuck’s fault to send her a picture of the cake that they had prepared for Renjun’s surprise and the only thing she wanted to do was bawl her eyes out.

Her arms extended over the white counter at the entrance of the boutique, letting out a raged sigh as she hears the sound of the obnoxiously cheesy song that played in the background. Her heart was definitely not in that city that took every fiber of her real-self away. Damn the moment life created salaries and responsibilities—heck, the moment impossibilities were created, because puzzles were always present in life and it was tiring. Sometimes, she just wanted things to be simple.

But it’s going to be okay. Hard, definitely, but okay. She promised herself that much.

She took the empty Styrofoam cup of coffee she had over the counter in her hands and shook it up only to realize she had drunk every drop.

Life was going to be okay…but later.

“What are you doing?”

Psychics, mind-readers, clairvoyants—they all fell onto the title of faux beings next to Lee Jeno. There was something about him always knowing when exactly to text her, when to talk and when not to, it was just part of him and she thanked him silently for being that way. Yet, that this time was not one of those days. Her fingers hovered over her phone as she tried her hardest to erase the smile on her face, only that it was not caused by Jeno and that her headphones were wrapped around her head, covering her ears as she listened to Jaemin’s sweet laughter in his live-stream. It was like Jeno knew that she was watching Jaemin.

She did not know how she ended there. She had a pretty rough set of hours (weeks, really) and she decided to forget the entire Seoul ordeal for a few weeks before with some YouTube videos, but when that did not do anything remotely important to switch her mood, she opted to check out what her friends were talking about when speaking about Jaemin. They had been trying so hard to get her to check him out and she never did, so it was never too late to start getting on the bandwagon that is watching Jaemin tease other people. Indeed, there was quite a big following that liked his sense of humor and now add her in that group.

There were people in this world that were made to smile, others that were made to make other people smile and then, there were those ones who you wanted to return every smile to. Jaemin seemed like the type of guy who needed to smile forever, for his cheeks turned a beautiful shade of light pink whenever he laughed too hard and altogether, he seemed like a lake personality wise, just an individual that went with the flow, almost too chill to be real. It is not easy to smile in those times of her life, and yet he does it so effortlessly, unknowingly, miraculously that she can’t help but feel…connected.

“Watching Jaemin’s stream.” She replies curtly before placing her phone over the desk, resting her elbows on the surface and sniffling before settling her gaze on Jaemin. He read almost every comment at an unhuman speed and he was enjoying himself, quite clearly, bothering people and apologizing soon after. She wondered if he had contacted Mark like he did with all the people he had joked around with in that stream.

One lesson for anyone you ever meet: Never trust your friends with a crush. Repeat it, never.

Her gut stirred when she saw the comments getting filled with users repeating her name over and over again, saying ‘she thinks you’re pretty’, ‘she’s into you’, ‘she thinks you’re cute, dude, ew.’ Over and over again. Surely, Mark had some kind of social media to use as his voice, but she had only told that to Jeno. She leaned forward, watching her friend’s users spamming the comments endlessly, looking around to see where she should click to report them.

Until it was too late and a smile appeared on Jaemin’s face as he put his headphones down. He said her name, reading that one comment written by Donghyuck that said: “Dude, she told me she thinks you’re cute.” Jaemin ran his fingers through his hair, making the hood of his shirt fall off his head and with a toothy grin, he answered. “I don’t know if you’re joking around or not…uh…isn’t she like that one friend of yours and Mark? By the way, guys, check out Mark Lee’s channel—he is like…very good.”

Should she comment? Maybe she should stop all this! The least she wanted was for anyone in the world to know she is just a ridiculous woman that can’t even tell someone that she thinks they are cute. Perhaps, she should just report her own friends. Instead, she decides to pop by the group-chat and write with a few typos. “I am going to kill all of you. I said I wasn’t going to Seoul yet, but once I go you better hide.”

“Either way,” Jaemin claps his hands together and then, he cracks his fingers by extending them. “Should we play Outlast or keep trolling people?”

She decides to close the tab, hiding her face in her hands and letting out a raged sigh. Just then, she hears the sound of her phone going off and all she can read are the equivalent of laughs—or just letters put together to feign a laugh—and a lot of laughing emoticons.

“Bro, you made me get a shout out by Jaemin! Cool!”

Donghyuck responds soon after. “Good thing I know him.”

She types before she can even think of what she was writing. “You know him?!” She writes. “That’s it. Never going to Seoul. Nope.”

Melting onto her seat, she swears that keeping secrets is always sweeter and it’s killing her that there is always a way for her to end up distressed. On the other hand, she got to hear her name being called by Jaemin and there was nothing sweeter than the laugh he let out when he read the comment made by Donghyuck. There, she learns that maybe she just needs to get out there and look for a date, because she could not be actually enchanted by a guy that did so much as calling out her name.

It sounded like a nice distraction nowadays, to have someone to go out on dates with or have a person that she could even crush on, but she doesn’t have the time to do such thing. It was a constant cycle of working, studying, going to class, doing whatever she needed to do at her apartment and just isolate herself in all she needed to do. Maybe, she should really take up on her promise and try to look around for a bit…there needed to be someone good enough in that city.

Because Jaemin is in Seoul…and he had laughed at the idea of her finding him cute. Not that it was embarrassing at all, just that it really was.

“You smell like hot Cheetos, babe.”

“R-Really?”

Getting Mark flustered was as easy as pronouncing the abecedary, his cheeks the color of peaches and his eyes going around the table to see his friends, some groaning at the sight of him being disgustingly cute with his girlfriend and others smiling at the sight of Mark being in love…and also being made fun of. It was nice that after six months of working hard, she was able to go to Seoul to visit her friends and she smiled with her lips pressed together, keeping her chopsticks inside her lips to look at the couple. It felt fitting and nostalgic, to be surrounded by the people who made her laugh the most, to be in the restaurant they frequented without a thought of being remotely stressed. It was only for a week and still, it felt naturally pleasurable.

Sweet was the night for Jeno, whom had actually brought someone with him and he was chatting away with his date, Mark was still very much in love with his girlfriend and she was, stagnantly, wishing she had someone by her side that gave her such attention. Mark’s girlfriend girlishly laughed at her joke as the man tried to explain himself and when she stares one look at Jeno, it seems like he has his date laughing at something he said. The soft breeze hitting the windows of the restaurant sounds oh-so louder and she picks up another piece of her dish, pushing it past her lips and munching on her food.

The garden was getting bigger, and she had yet to bloom.

Renjun was seated by her side and with a light push of his finished plate, he extended his arms over his head and let out a soft sigh. “Sweet and young love,” Renjun announces as if it was a story, his red bomber jacket falling off his shoulder. “All around us…and then the three of us are here, alone.”

Donghyuck scoffs from his spot. “Speak for yourself.”

“I am speaking for all of us—”

“I agree with him.” Her index finger points momentarily at Renjun and the young man nods with a smile on his face.

Donghyuck smiles, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on his seat. “I can have that sorted out.” There is one thing she has learned about Donghyuck in the past years she has known him—he is a bit out there. He knows perfectly well how to keep his life together, but he adores making people flustered with his unexpected jokes and actions. He loves a good, natural laugh caused by great fun, he says. “You’re an easy case, to be honest with you, pretty and overall nice. I can find you a man in no time.”

She rolls her eyes. “Says the one who can’t find a person for himself.”

“Anyways!” Donghyuck presses his index finger against the table to make a point. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted…your type of guys are easy to find.” She thinks so as well, only that she is not a good adventurer that goes and looks for a person to date. She is a huge believer that times gives the best fruits and the least she wanted was to rush through it and end up in a situation she did not want to be part of, so she tries to wait until someone knocks by her door—not literally, of course—. “Funny…ah…handsome? Chill, you have a lot of mood-swings and you need someone to be always chill about things. Definitely cuddly…”

Renjun snaps his fingers together. “That sounds like someone I know.”

“Really?” She asks. “Introduce me to him, then. That’s like the love of my life.”

Donghyuck smirked and that is never a good sign. “Renjun, we’ll say the name of the guy we’re thinking about on the count of three, alright?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“One…two…three…” Donghyuck counts quickly and then, he points at Renjun as the two say at the same time: “Na Jaemin.”

How long has it been since she heard that name? Let alone think of him, really. Months, to be quite honest. She thought she would never hear of him again and now that she is reminded of the existence of Na Jaemin, she feels the same embarrassment that had once taken over her when Donghyuck—and the people at the table—decided to expose her in Jaemin’s comment section. Ever since then, she opted to forget anything had ever happened and for a while it worked, but now she would love to be able to stab the two guys’ throats with her chopsticks, but once again…she loves them too much to do that.

Jaemin did sound like all those things and she can imagine a date with him, more like could, because it definitely won’t happen. She takes a deep breath, decides to forgive Donghyuck’s actions again and she takes his index finger in between her first. “Hah, yeah, definitely, good option…did you forget you made a fool out of me in his stream and now I can’t even click on his profile?”

He is a bit of a political person, Donghyuck could be the president if he wanted to because he just knows how to get people to agree to his ideas. “Just, listen…hush, hear me out.” Donghyuck puts two hands in front of her face as if to calm her down and then, a big, cheeky smile spreads across his face. “I talked to him, he asked if it was a joke or something because he was lost and I told him that, you know, you thought he was cute—”

“Oh no…”

“And he asked me to show him a picture of you and then he was talking about how he just needed your number.”

“And you gave it to him, right?”

Donghyuck’s smile falters at that moment. “I did not. Thought you’d get mad at me if I did.”

“…I would have.” She replies and then, she takes another bite of her food, looking at Donghyuck for a brief second before shrugging. “But I would not mind it now…”

“You’re for real?” Renjun asks, placing one hand over her shoulder and making her turn to look at him. “Donghyuck was right.”

The man in question shrugs his shoulders, as if it was nothing. “I am always right.”

And quite honestly, he sometimes was.

If Donghyuck gave her number to Jaemin in the form of a heart-shaped post-it note, she does not know, but he does something and that is a simple gift he gives her in the fifth day of being in Seoul.

A date.

Coffee dates were starting to get more popular by the day, as if cafés and aesthetics had something to do with love, but there were plenty of people wearing berets and drinking lattes that enjoyed having people accompany them in their little rendezvous. It was a wonder to her that Jaemin had asked to meet up with her at a café, but it was even more of a puzzlement when Donghyuck told her that Jaemin had personally asked for this. To say she was terrified would be an understatement, for she did not even know this guy to an extent in which she would feel less nervous in a date with him. Yet again, Donghyuck said that it was fine (“really, it’s just a date—grow up.”, he said) and she had decided to get ready for the café date that was awaiting her.

The ridiculously feminine coral top she wore tucked inside her jeans made her feel like the epitome of cupid in person, but she tries not to think about it as she plays with her hair and gets off the bus. All she can think about are ice-breakers and questions to ask him. When was the last time she went out on a date—high school? She doesn’t know, but her legs are shaking as if they were made out of jelly and there is something deep within her that tells her something could go terribly wrong.

She doesn’t even know this guy…and he is going out on a date with him. And she can’t even play the mysterious girl card because he already knows she is slightly into him.

Great. Now she has to check if there are emergency exits in the café if she dared to say anything awkward.

She walks inside the café, being met by neon pink lights that welcomed cheesy sayings and a lot of people bundled together in tables to chat and drink coffee. Her eyes scan the room as she bites on her bottom lip and in the matter of seconds, she is welcomed by the sight of Na Jaemin by one of the tables. His hand is waving at her so she notices him, but she had noticed him even before he did that. His dark hair was parted slightly to show his forehead, pretty smile with chapped lips send towards her, his body was cladded in an oversized hoodie and jeans—just his normal attire, really.

There is not an emergency exit, but when she walks towards Jaemin, there is something about him that tells her that she will really not need it. She stands beside the table, hands clasped in front of her body as she gives a tiny smile. “…Jaemin, right?” He nods his head, standing up to move her chair for her to sit down.

He calls out her name, again, and then she is reminded of the embarrassing moment that happened during his stream. Yikes. “Oh, hi! I’m so happy you could make it—Donghyuck told me you were going to be early, probably, so I got here earlier and I already had a cup of coffee,” He sits down once again and moves his empty mug in his hands momentarily before putting it down once again. He is not really…hyper for the amount of coffee that once was inside that mug. It was huge, to say the least. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I really don’t.” She licks her lips and then, she looks down at the menu decorated with ribbons and lace, something both delicate and stylish. “You come here often?”

“Every day before class, really. Sometimes at night.”

She looks around the menu, seeing that there is a row of drinks in one spot, then a whole part for the coffees they served and some dishes with pictures, pastries in their majority. “You drink coffee at night?” She asks, looking up to see him playing with the cap he had probably used when he got there.

“It doesn’t make me hyper and it’s tasty.”

“That’s…odd.” She replies and Jaemin chuckles softly at her words. “But if you know about coffee so much,” She clears her throat as she leans over the table slightly, pointing at the menu for him and smelling his cologne from up close. He did smell like vanilla, too sweet. A bit of cherry chap-stick, perhaps? “Tell me what I should have.”

“Iced Americano.” He doesn’t even look at the menu when he responds and then he points at one of the pictures of the cakes. “And a slice of caramel cake. It’s soft in the inside but crunchy in the outside.” She sits down once again, an astonished look on her face as she stares at the man ahead of her. “What? Is it surprising?”

“You drink coffee and eat something with caramel at the same time?” There was no doubt that the young man surprises her with every word that goes through his lips. She thinks at that moment that Jaemin is really enchanting, but his drinking and eating habits might be one’s of a child and an old man both at the same time.

“Yeah. It’s tasty.”

“I’ll take your word on that.” She replies and then she lifts her hand up to catch the attention of a waitress that goes over to them immediately. She orders what Jaemin had instructed her and soon after, he asks for another cup of coffee and a slice of cake.

Only that Jaemin’s order for coffee is horrible—well, maybe not horrifying to the point she would not even let her nose near it, but she tries her hardest not to flinch at the taste with every small sip she takes of the drink. It was bitter, so the slice of caramel cake helped her sweeten up her almost-destroyed tongue with every little sip she took. On another note, Jaemin served as a sweetener, as well, his magic with words working with her when he talks about his major and how he left his part-time job recently because he was making money out of Twitch. She doesn’t know how that feels like and he says that it is definitely not a lot, but that he manages to pay his rent with that and it is more than enough for him.

He asks about her, too, and she tells him she doesn’t live in Seoul (“what a bummer, really”, he comments and she can’t help but blush), that she is not that happy with the major she picked and that her job sucks. The atrocities she tells him have Jaemin listening but also laughing along with her, telling her that all the hard work she put into life will pay off in the future.

It surprises her that after her third sip of the terrible mug filled with coffee, Jaemin decides to take matters into his hands, taking the mug away from her and speaking on her behalf. “You don’t like it. Let me order something else for you.”

“Ah, no!” As always, shy and soft-hearted, she said that with trembling hands. The fucking caffeine in that poison stuff. “No, Jaemin, really, I enjoy it…just that I’m a slow drinker.”

“Don’t lie!” Jaemin adds with a smile and then he takes a swing from her drink. They had shared mugs by now, apparently. “I know it’s very bitter and it doesn’t physically affect me, but you’re shaking and I don’t want you to have a headache later.”

Sweet, that he was, but it did not show through his coffee choices. “Thank you. I’ll pass on the drink for now.”

“See? I knew you didn’t like it.” Jaemin points out and then, he lets out a sigh. “The cake is fine though?”

“Yeah, perfect. It’s tasty.”

“That sounds like truth.” She can’t help but smile at his words. There is something about his voice that helps her throw every worry out of the window, as if whatever is stressing her out is a tiny rock in her way that she is able to kick. “Uh…so since you’re about to finish, do you want to go somewhere else? Your pick.” That has to mean Jaemin has been enjoying their date so far. The butterflies inside her stomach—silly, cheesy, really— twist, turn, make a whole Taekwondo routine, everything and all because of him.

But she only knows Seoul so much, for she had not lived there in over a year. She juts out her bottom lip as she remembers what she saw during her bus ride. “Uh…there’s a PC room in the other street, maybe we could go play some videogames.”

“Prepare to get your ass kicked, then.”

“Okay, well, no.” She replies with sarcasm, rolling her eyes. “What a way of being humble.” But the smile on her face gives away that she really enjoys Jaemin being competitive.

Jaemin holds two hands to his heart and he closes his eyes while he winces. “My heart. Ouch. It hurts.” He opens one eye to look at her expression and she chuckles. “I’ve been burned by some cute lady telling me I am pretentious.”

She giggles. “Is that a compliment?”

“It’s a threat, really. My mom won’t be too keen of you burning her son.”

“My apologies, but it was true though.”

“You’ll talk to my lawyer.” Jaemin indicates as he gets his wallet out of his pocket and she takes hers out of her bag to put her part as well, but his hands stop her immediately. “Save the money to be able to pay for a lawyer.” He jokes around and she scrunches up her nose.

“Let me pay half—”

“Sorry,” Jaemin sings in a soft tone. “Can’t hear you.”

And the date goes by smoothly with Jaemin pressed to her side in a shared computer, playing around at the same time a stupid game that was too old to even be there. The smell of his cologne is placed on her shirt even when she walks beside him when he takes her home and it all seems to good. A part of her realizes that Jaemin was truthful about wanting to go out on a date with her and his chapped lips become a dream when he says his goodbyes by the entrance of the hotel she was staying at. One day, not that week, definitely not in a few months, perhaps never…but one day she’d get a taste of his lips.

“I am proud of all you.”

“Why’s that, Renjun?”

“For getting to be my friends. That shit’s hard. Everyone wants to be my friend.”

“Yeah, anyways…let’s just ignore Renjun.”

“Donghyuck!”

Normally, her days were highlighted by waking up to go to class, actually going to class, having lunch and going to work, only to come back at seven in the night simply to work on projects, homework and anything else that she has to do, like reading over papers to prepare for her tests. A group-chat was the least of her priorities, but nowadays she found she was checking her phone a lot more—for the last three weeks, exactly, which does not come from the fact that Mark is planning some online Cards Against Humanity game for his stream with them included in the package, but it’s the fact that there is someone else outside of the group-chat constantly texting her.

Anyone can guess who it is.

It just so happened that Jaemin did have her number saved on his phone by the time she decided to ask for his at the end of their date and he promised that once she left Seoul, there would not be a day in which they did not speak. In reality, he fulfilled his promise and whenever she wakes up, she is met with a continuation of their endless conversations. It makes her fuzzy, like her stomach filled with soda, whenever she thinks of Jaemin being on the other side of the phone. Sometimes he sends her pictures of what he is eating, his set-up for his streams and while she can’t tune in at all times, she tries to watch them whenever she has some free time.

He tells her he thinks he is the King of Caramel Popcorn. She tells him that she would love to try it someday. He says he is going to send one of his favorite hoodies through the mail sometime and she believes him. Whenever she posts a picture on any type of social media, she receives a screenshot through her chat with him with a million of compliments (“how are you so pretty?” is a perfect example of what he normally says) and she does the same for him. It’s obvious that the two are flirting, that he changes his tone of voice just the slightest when he sends her a voice note and it’s perfectly imperfect. She wishes he could be closer to her, that she could experience that while actually physically being with him, but that doesn’t happen.

Jaemin is talking about how he is working on some college things and that he doesn’t have that much time to plan his jokes on Twitch anymore. However, she is more than happy to read his rants and let him vent. She’s tired after a long day, looking at her unfinished homework and wishing she could just pull away from her phone and start completing it, but it’s something that she would rather forget she ever thought about.

Either way, Jaemin notices and he texts her almost immediately. “You told me you had homework to do. Are you doing it?” He texts, always one to remember what she said, and she added an emoticon rolling its eyes.

“Nope. Am tired.”

Jaemin responds almost immediately. “I know you’re tired, beautiful, but do your homework and rest later.”

“I can rest now and do my homework later, too.” She answers wistfully. The soft air of her air conditioner touches her skin as she sits on top of her bed, her work spread unorganized in front of her. She needs to find a pencil first if she wants to do work, really.

“Do your homework or I’ll stop texting.” Jaemin threatens and she can’t help but smile at the thought of the young man being worried about her.

“We both know that’s not true.” Only that Jaemin does read that message and she realizes then that he might just be serious about it. “Jaemin?” She types quickly and Jaemin sees the text once again, but he doesn’t respond. “Fine. I’ll text you once I finish.”

Only that nowadays, she does thing with Jaemin in the back of her brain. There is a little reminder of a man whose smile can light up the entire world…and she would like to say she hates it, but Jaemin rarely takes time away from her. He pushes her to do better, he wants her to be the type of person she wants to be and fulfill her responsibilities to the very end. She doesn’t get it sometimes, how one moment he can be a full clown and others he could be relaxed. He tells her things will look up someday and that she needs to try, just the very slightest.

It’s at that moment that she wonders if she likes Jaemin, as in more than just think of him as a pretty face and naturally think of him as a great human being, someone she would date, a person whose hand she would not mind holding for quite some time, to protect and have dates with. Only that they are far away, a few train rides away from one another and it is almost impossible. Just how many long distance flings or relationships actually work?

Yeah, right, almost all of them don’t work.

She rubs her eyes, deciding that there was only a handful of minutes in her day for her to think about some boy in Seoul and instead, she decides to continue with her homework. At least, a degree will last her forever.

Jaemin does send a hoodie and it became her all-time favorite piece of clothing.

For one, the hoodie gets to her after two months of talking to one another and the fabric is huge as she takes it out of the box. Secondly, it smells like what he smelled like—a lot of coffee, but also some detergent that meant he had washed the hoodie. She thanked him endlessly for the past weeks when he did such thing but the amount of messages she wrote to him back then did not compare to the ones she had sent him that week, when she realized that Jaemin was actually going to live in the city she was in currently for an entire semester since he was a college transfer for a semester. He says he has been opting for it for months and now she knows why he had been trying so hard.

It is one of those days where she feels her legs might give in at any given moment, her face void of any traces of makeup as she rushes from one side of college to the other. Her busy schedule had stopped her from meeting up with Jaemin even when he was in the same city as her currently, but that was far away from her head as she walks around the campus.

It’s time for her to get lunch and she is wondering if she should eat somewhere nearby or go home and try to make something. Her mind is a mess, just like the papers that are bundled up inside her backpack and the things that she has to do for the rest of the day. However, the hoodie Jaemin gave her was still tightly placed over her body, covering almost down to her thigh, though she had paired up with leggings. It is windy, enough to bring her closer to the fabric as she opts to go to the café inside the campus—she never goes there, the pastries are hard and not particularly the greatest, but she is hungry and her mind is clouded because of that.

She pulls her hood down by the time she is inside the coffee shop, looking around to see that there were not a lot of people there, only that her eyes stop on a particularly familiar facial structure. She has seen that slightly flat nose, those set of lips, those twinkling and relaxed brown eyes.

Softly now or all at once, she feels like she is getting hit by whiplash. This entire time, she had forgotten to ask Jaemin what college he was transferring to and out of all places, it had to be in her college.

She wants to run towards him and hug him tightly, but that would not be okay.

She desires to scream at the top of her lungs and ask him why he did not tell her, but that would be inappropriate.

So she settles for the easiest decision, walking towards him and tapping his shoulder to get his attention. Jaemin looks over his shoulder slowly, blinking up at her and widening his eyes when he realized that it was her. “You go to my college now? Why didn’t you tell me?”

The hug actually comes from Jaemin and she feels like the air is taken out of her lungs as he stands up and wraps his arms around her waist, hiding his face in her neck and chuckling in delight before pulling away momentarily. His warm hands still make a home of her waist as he speaks. “I did not know. I guess you never asked and I never told you where I was going to. This is incredible!”

She feels him playing with the material of his hoodie and only then, she starts to feel embarrassed. Jaemin is definitely not afraid to show affection in front of people and being a complete flirt bluntly. She jokes around, however. “Are you sure you’re not stalking me?”

“Never.” Jaemin adds with a smile and then he bites his bottom lip. “So…what are you doing right now?”

“I was going to grab something to eat and then head to work.” Jaemin pulls away, closing his laptop and smiling, not like he stopped doing it before really.

How she missed him without actually meeting him more than once in person, she does not know. It sounds stupid, sometimes she calls herself irrational—but they have talked more than she talks to a lot of people and she feels like they know each other far more than one would actually think. It’s a big world and they are just two people having fun with one another. “Let me invite you to something then. Do you have time to catch up with me?”

She lifts her sleeve to look down at her watch and she hisses. “I have thirty minutes. Is that enough for you?”

“Not really, but I’ll manage.” Jaemin indicates and then, he raises an eyebrow. “Want some coffee?”

That sounds like a nightmare of caffeine to her ears, so she shakes her head gently, pressing her palm to his chest and patting it softly. “I’d like tea today, actually.”

“I’d like tea.” Jaemin mocks her voice with his tongue slightly out, rolling his eyes and making her chuckle as she hits his arm.

“Jaemin!”

“Sorry, I just missed your voice and I needed to mock it. It was necessary.”

Just like having him by her side was not a necessity—but it surely made her feel better

A game of Cards Against Humanity with her friends was something she enjoyed. Looking at the cards that were displayed on the screen and thinking of possibilities on how to win the game were most of the things that she did, but she was far more concentrated on the young man behind her. Jaemin told her that he would spend her Saturday night with her—and Mark also called out for her participation in his stream, so she had her headphones on, Mark’s followers—and her friends, really—unaware of the fact that Jaemin was seated behind her, his legs serving as leverage as she tries to think of a perfect comeback.

It’s not exactly that they are dating, but it’s obvious that they like each other. She doesn’t like losing time, much more when she doesn’t even have enough time to spend with Jaemin, so he does his best to come up with date ideas to be together. Jaemin’s kisses were fleeting, his hands were fluttering against her skin and gently, he makes his way into her life as she expects (waits, actually) for him to finally confess. Call it a relationship. Make it more of a boyfriend and girlfriend thing rather than just ‘something’.

“Jaemin,” She calls out his name, leaning back against his chest to feel the warmth of his body. Jaemin’s hands rest on her abdomen and he hums as he realizes that she had turned off her microphone. “What do I pick?” She asks in a whisper, even when it was quite obvious that no one was going to hear them. Jaemin leans forward and he reads the card slowly.

“What makes life worth living?” He reads slowly and then he looks at her options, taking her mouse in between his fingers and clicking on the card that brought a smile to his face. She gasps as she reads what he had put as a card and then she chuckles loudly.

“I should have known you were going to pick that.”

“It’s funny, come on. If Jeno doesn’t pick that, I don’t know what’s comedy anymore.”

She looks over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow with laughter still interrupting her words. “And you know what comedy is?”

“…Shut up, I do.” Jaemin indicates with a smile and then he leans forward to press a kiss to her cheek. He squints his eyes as he reads the cards from the other players. “A big brain full of facts and sadness…that’s Mark, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh God—”

“Nothing,” Jaemin hums as he reads the answer and then he chuckles. That had actually tickled some comedy in his brain. “That has to be Renjun or Donghyuck. It’s funny.”

“Renjun. Donghyuck is bad at this game.” She replies and Jaemin bites his bottom lip. The light of the computer casting over his face made his features look beautiful and while she should concentrate on the laughter that seeps through her headphones, she trails her fingers up his lips, making the man bite on the edge slightly before pulling away.

“Then Donghyuck is the one that says ‘fragile masculinity’. Nice try, but not funny.” Jaemin points out and finally, he points at the remaining card. “Then ‘balls’ is Mark’s girlfriend’s card. That’s it. We’ve won.”

And it surprises her when Jeno picks Renjun’s card in between laughter, the card that Jaemin had picked (“concealing a boner”, which was pretty dumb) left forgotten. “…We have not. Jeno picked Renjun’s. You were right.”

Jaemin widens his eyes, slapping his hand against her thigh. “What the fuck?” She laughs at his reaction, how lowly he said the words and how he gasps soon after. “This is nonsense. Let me have a talk with Jeno—”

“This is a live stream; don’t you dare—”

“Don’t be so grumpy.”

“Hah, yes, definitely, I’m grumpy for being rational.”

“That was comedy gold!”

“Renjun’s card was pretty good, though. The best, I’d say.”

Jaemin pressed his index finger against her lips, shushing her efficiently. “We’re going to win this. I promise.”

Did anyone ever say that Jaemin does live up to every single one of his promises? Because that is absolutely true. There is not a man more transparent than Na Jaemin.

“I like holding your hand.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

Ever since Jaemin started his semester in her college, her Saturday nights were left unvisited just to spend time with him. She finished her work earlier just to have that day with him, most preferably after she got out of work and took a quick shower. The soft breeze of the night hits their bodies that keep their legs intertwined, Jaemin’s fingers resting by her waist, pulling the blanket he had brought with himself over their bodies. His other hand is holding hers, placed over his abdomen to feel every movement of his breathing. The moment feels like it was made of ice, like time had stopped around them and there was not a worry in that world that could pull them away from one another.

Jaemin knows that every passing day means a step to finish the semester and go back to Seoul, and he thinks it is so damned that he had decided to simply fall head-first onto something that he could not quite name yet. He had been too scared to ask her to be his girlfriend—what was he supposed to say? ‘hey, just so you know, I am leaving to Seoul soon and we will both be heartbroken’. Jaemin is not the type of break hearts—he is a flirt, yes, but he is not heartless.

“Uh…” Jaemin trails his voice and then he turns his body to look at her. His face was close enough that she could count his eyelashes, touch his nose with hers, feel his breath over her lips as his eyes twinkle like the stars on top of them. Jaemin said it would be romantic and sure, laying on the floor might not be the most comfortable of things, but she doesn’t mind it as long as he is with him. His hands rub her arms to keep her warm, speaking against her skin softly. “Are you cold? We could leave right now—”

“Not cold,” She adds sweetly before pressing her cheek to his chest, right in between his collarbones. Jaemin hugs her tightly, his chin resting on top of her head as he takes the hand he was holding, extending it and looking up at it to see the hand comparison. “Your hands are pretty.”

“That’s new.” Jaemin adds in between a chuckle and then he links their little fingers together. “You know, I brought you here because I was going to make a preposition to you.”

She hums, pulling away from him slightly to look into his eyes. “Should I be worried?”

Jaemin scoffs. “Do I ever make you worried?”

“No, but it’s never too early to start.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jaemin rolls his eyes and then his fingers drop down to caress her face. “I was going to tell you, or more like ask you, just—hear me out. I know you’re very busy and I don’t technically live here but…” She knows where this is going and it is adorable to see Jaemin trying to look for the perfect words. Yet again, he goes straight to the point. “I want to give this a try. As in, you and me…you know, us.”

“Am I making you nervous?”

“No. I just thought I’d have to explain.” Jaemin smiles and she shakes her head, sitting up and bringing Jaemin with her. She wraps her arms around his neck, looking into his star-gazing eyes with adoration. “What do you think?”

She nods her head. “I like the idea.” She whispers before looking down to his lips.

A kiss comes like thunder soon after. She feels like, for a moment, there is a fitting piece in a puzzle that made everything feel a bit easier. Jaemin might be a hundred miles away in a few months, two at the very least, but everything was going to be alright as long as he was there, in words, in touch, in any way that she could have him.

The back of her eyes was thumping, indicating the initiation of a headache. Her legs wobbled around the room as she put her coat on the couch, got rid of her shoes and gave a half-spoken greeting to her roommates. Once she opens the door to her room, she welcomes the sight of a place in which she can finally be herself. Every passing day gets harder, her muscles aching, her mind tired of so much work that only continues. She tosses herself over the bed, kicking the covers that had bunched up by her feet, taking her phone out of her bag to see the texts she had received from her friends and her boyfriend.

That is the sweetest part of her day, when she gets to come back home to messages and voice recordings of her boyfriend reminding her that he still loves her as much as he did seven months ago. Thankfully for her, she could spend the entire month of December in Seoul and she was more than eager to be able to say that there were only a few weeks until December arrived.

Her phone presses to her ear thank to her fingers, tilting her head to the side and letting out a yawn that is interrupted by the sound of someone responding to her call. “What’s up, beautiful?” Jaemin asks and she can’t help but feel her heart leaping at the sound of his voice. Jaemin was a butterfly of hope to her, a kiss on her lips that lasted a lifetime, more than a person she sees through a screen but someone whom she considers a dream turned reality. She stops yawning, rubbing her fingers against her temples to calm down her headache.

“I needed to hear your voice. I have the biggest headache…” She whispers and she hears the sound of Jaemin moving around. “What are you doing?”

“Cooking.”

“Cooking?”

“Caramel popcorn.”

“Be careful with the caramel.”

“Uh-huh.” He says and then, she hears the sound of the phone being placed on a hard surface. Maybe he had actually put his phone down on speaker. “Take some medicine for your headache. I am worried you’re sick.

“It’s a stress headache.” She says in between another yawn and then, she whines with watery eyes. “I have homework to complete, too, and I am so tired—”

“Take a nap.”

“As if it’s that easy.”

“Take a nap and do your homework later.”

“But let me talk to you first, alright?”

“Okay.” He adds cutely and she can’t help but smile.

There are twenty-four hours to the days of every person in this world, but hers always felt the longest until she got to talk to Jaemin. The sound of his voice was calming, his aura altogether made her feel like there was nothing wrong in the world—and maybe, one day they will be able to be with one another every single day, but for now…everything feels real through a screen.

#jaemin scenarios #jaemin #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #nct fluff #nct au #jaemin fluff #jaemin au #twitch streamer!jaemin #this is a weird au #but jaemin would definitely be a troll fite me #i hope you like it!!!#tell me what you think!!

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