#that piano is the first one i ever remember playing on. the first song i learned to play my grandma taught me with that piano. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

llamagoddessofficial · 4 months

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A lovely continuation commission from @valacre. You love your husband Nightmare as he is - but there's a lot more to him than what is now, isn't there?

---

The record player moved on to the next song. Your recognition of the song roused you, faintly, from your almost-sleep... a familiar, emotive, reflective piano piece. You didn’t open your eyes just yet; you could feel a small smile forming on your lips.

He’s playing Debussy? He must be in a good mood.

You were holding Nightmare’s hand up against your face tonight, tucked up to your ears under the covers, cheek pressed stubbornly to the top of his palm. You spent many nights falling asleep this way. Nightmare didn’t need to sleep, it was a luxury he could indulge in if he felt inclined, but he often chose instead to bring his books and quills to bed with him (propped against his knees) and use the precious quiet hours to read and write. You would fall asleep tucked up to his side... most often with one of his hands commandeered by your own, as your just payment for not receiving your usual embrace from him.

You didn’t mind this arrangement. In fact, you quite enjoyed it. There was something about him being awake that made your sleep so deep, so restful - you felt so safe. He could watch over you, right? It was as if knowing he was awake for you made all your anxieties melt away. He would sometimes play music to fill the silence, and the tunes would lull you into comfortable and romantic dreams.

You very minutely nuzzled his hand as the song drew to a close. After a few beats of silence, the record player skipped on. You didn’t recognise this one, but it was distinctly Debussy again... you couldn’t help but open your eyes.

...

The hand you were holding was white.

You gasped, a loud and sharp breath - you snatched your hand away and sat bolt upright in bed. The blanket tumbled off you.

Again?!

Your vision focused.

... Nightmare, despite the look of startlement and concern on his face, appeared completely normal. His bones were black, faintly iridescent and glistening as they always were; his eyelight’s cyan light was bright and comforting. Handsome as ever, too.

“what is it?” he asked, gently, putting his quill down. “bad dream?”

... You didn’t know what to say. Let alone how to say it. After searching his face for anything unfamiliar, and finding nothing but the man you loved, you gradually lowered yourself back down into bed. You tried to breathe slowly, calming from the sudden bout of panic you’d caused yourself. Your heart was beating much too hard.

“I... Yes. I’m alright.” You definitely didn’t sound alright. You bought the covers back up over your shoulders.

His face shifted. His voice was soft, as was his gaze, you could tell he was being careful to keep his tone non-confrontational.

He slowly closed his book. “no you aren’t.”

You shifted uncomfortably at the twinge in his tone. Nightmare, a man who could taste lies, obviously didn’t like being lied to. Even small ones.

“I’m sorry. I... don’t really know what’s wrong.”

You stared at some of the fine stitching around the edges of the pillow. You were struggling to get comfortable again, your whole body still tense. This wasn’t the first time your mind had supplied you with images of a skeleton you didn’t recognise.

Lately, you’d been having the most intense, vivid, immensely strange dreams. You never fully recalled them when you awoke, but certain aspects would remain in your head like the afterimage of a powerful flash. Symbols of the moon, silver, flickers of purple. The warmth that comes from drinking herbal tea. Laughter, the smell of fire, a tree stump.

... Then the skeleton himself, the subject of your confusion. Tall and elegant, clad in faded silks, with a kind smile but the aura of something that grown accustomed to unspeakable grief. Soft lilac eyelights that were deep and overflowing with power. You couldn’t remember his face; you could, however, remember that his expression was warm. A smile that made your chest ache. He would look at you as if he owed you a great debt; no matter how much you called out he wouldn’t come any closer. He would open his mouth, but there would be only silence, like he was behind a thick wall of water.

You would’ve ignored the dreams. Were they not so vivid - and so recurring. You felt as if something was quietly watching you. But what? And how could you possibly reply, if you couldn’t even remember what happened?

... You were broken out of the memory by Nightmare moving. His tentacles picked up his book, pen and ink, placing them on the bedside table; as he did, he shuffled to lay down beside you. He drew you against him. Perhaps he could tell that whatever was wrong, it needed more than words.

You gratefully accepted the embrace. Your cheek tucked against his collarbone, his arm and a tentacle looped over your middle. When his huge arms were around you, you felt so safe, you knew heads would roll before he allowed anything in the world to touch you.

“better?” he murmured.

You were choked up. You didn’t know why. “Mhm.”

“you know you can tell me anything.”

“Of course. I just need to find the words to tell you, first.”

“i’m sorry. i shouldn’t push. i’m one to talk about not telling the whole truth, hm?”

You couldn’t help but giggle. He clearly liked that... against his chest, you could hear his Soul faintly humming. Probably by instinct, a second tentacle tucked over you, this time curling around your legs.

The record player moved on to the next song. His claws were gently moving in your hair, wrapping a specific curl around his phalange and letting it go over and over again. He’d always been enamoured with how it looked when it was down; it was a sight he was only privy to in moments like these, with the covers pulled up over both of you and the dark of night filling the bedroom.

Your voice broke the comfortable silence once you recognised the song playing. You weren’t laughing at him, but you were laughing, just a little. “More Debussy? Someone’s feeling romantic.”

He sounded like he was smiling. “indulge me,”

“I think it would be nice to learn how to play this one.” It felt good to talk about something else.

“it’s not as hard as you’d expect.”

...

You did look up at him this time, surprised, fabric rustling as you tilted your head up. “You play piano?”

“mhm.” His eye was wide and fuzzy, nigh filling up his entire socket, looking down at you with an immense softness. His hand moved to cup your face, massive palm to your cheek, claws curling around the back of your head. “it’s been a while. but i’m sure i could shake off the rust.”

“I didn’t know you knew how.”

“honestly, dear?” He hummed. “until this moment, i had forgotten i could.”

“You always struck me as more of a string player. Violin, perhaps. Or cello.”

“ah... violin, i never particularly fell in love with. but i am fond of the cello.” His voice was so satin-like, if you closed your eyes you could almost feel it caressing you. “i’ve picked up a fair few instruments, in my time. do you play?”

You rested your cheek back against his collarbone. Just how many instruments did he know? He was something of royalty, wasn’t he? Perhaps his childhood had involved a prince’s education. He would’ve seen a fair few beautiful and expensive instruments. His hand traced over your shoulder and down your spine, lovingly and almost reverently, settling to the small of your back. Despite all your time together, Nightmare still touched you like he couldn’t believe his luck.

“I floundered at piano as a child. My teacher always told me I was too airheaded to be any good.”

“she sounds unpleasant.”

“Mh... she wasn’t all wrong.” You thought back to the woman that had frightened you so much as a child. “I didn’t make her life very easy; I never practised, I was always busy playing gardener. She would scold me for coming to practise with dirt under my fingernails. Maybe if I’d concentrated, I would’ve been better.”

“well, it doesn’t matter now.” He turned his face slightly, and kissed the top of your head. “i didn’t marry you for your musical talent.”

“That may be true. But you didn’t marry me for great reasons at first, either.”

“my reasoning was questionable at the time, yes. i had no idea how to process what i was feeling.” His grin was audible once again. “but it would be a bald-faced lie to say i regret it. i’ll never regret making sure you were all mine.”

You rolled your eyes. “Aren’t you the romantic?”

He chuckled. You didn’t realise how much the short conversation had soothed you. Perhaps that was his plan. You were getting sleepier and sleepier, forgetting entirely what had startled you.

“I like these songs.” Your eyelids were drooping. “You have good taste in music.”

“music was... the only thing dream and i ever agreed on.”

... You stilled. Had... had he ever volunteered information about his brother before? Outside of when the spectre of the topic was already looming over both of you?

...

“... You should play me something, tomorrow.”

“anything for you.”

///---///

Nightmare waited until you were asleep to stop petting your hair. He only relaxed once the expression completely melted from your face. Instead, he just let his claws rest beside your head, his eyelight wandering over your features. Doing its best to memorise every curve.

He could never quite draw your smile right. The rest of you, he could create from memory, his claws knew the shape of your body well - your cheek and the arch of your brow, the little dip where your neck and shoulders met, the soft skin of your stomach and back... when he indulged himself in drawing you, those were the parts he could recreate with the effortlessness of total familiarity. The locked box in his study had more than its fair share of proof.

But your smile? He just couldn’t get it. No matter how badly he wanted to. Perhaps it just wasn’t something that could be contained. Perhaps there was a lesson there, for him, in the thing he loved most being the one thing he couldn’t capture forever.

... Alas. He knew he would keep trying, anyway. He was nothing if not greedy.

He kissed your knuckles. He would apologise again in the morning. It was unkind of him to pick you up on not telling the truth - especially when you were so incredibly patient with his endless lies by omission.

He wasn’t telling you everything about his dreams, either.

He’d grown so comfortable around you that many nights, when you slept, his mind would unconsciously reach out and connect to yours - his Soul seemed to see you as an extension of himself, so it would naturally draw you closer. Usually that meant nothing more than moving far more easily into your dreams.

... But recently, something very strange had been happening.

He would feel you in his mind.

It was the first time someone had ever entered his dream. It was much more pleasant than he imagined, though that was probably because it was you. So physically close to him, and so emotionally close, for you moving into his dream would be as easy as passing through a veil. He wouldn’t even notice you were there; not until he felt your presence in places and thoughts he hadn’t let himself access for years.

Something within him was... well, he didn’t know. Moving, perhaps? Shifting. He didn't like it. Whatever it was, it made him stop to consider, for the first time in a long time, what he really... was.

He wasn’t his old self. He knew that for sure. He wasn’t Night, but he wasn’t purely Corruption either. Unlike what his brother constantly insisted, Nightmare wasn’t some poor innocent skeleton trapped by a cartoonishly evil Corruption - his lip curled at the thought. Dream’s blind belief was as insulting as it was patronising. Nightmare knew what he was doing, he was the master of his destiny. Nightmare was something new, something different. A combination that was stronger than either entity could’ve been alone. He was better.

... He touched your face again, absentmindedly.

Both parts of him liked you. There was no question about that. The Corruption adored you, but it loved in an ancient and consuming way - it wanted you with them forever, a bird in a cage. The Corruption whispered longingly about how, if only they moved with more conviction, nobody but him would ever see or touch you again. Was he allured by that? Yes. But Night knew that love like consumption would eat you alive. It was the lingering presence of his old mind, the moderation and empathy of his old self, that gave Nightmare the tools to love you in a way that would make you happy.

He sighed. Both parts of him loved you... that was the problem. The lines were blurring.

... He could feel himself changing. Something old, rising to the surface. It was troubling. When the Corruption first took over, Night all but became comatose, healing from the damage done to him. As promised, the Corruption protected him. And even once Night did recover, he had absolutely no desire to return to full control, not after what he’d been through. He was afraid... remaining deep inside, protected from a world he saw as universally cruel. Protected by a wall of viscous black darkness.

Then you came along. Walls that he had spent centuries building, crumbling down from just a glance. Were he not so hopelessly in love, he might’ve considered his own behaviour rather pathetic.

He wasn’t sure what to do about it just yet. He pressed his nasal cavity against your hair. He would think about it more in the morning. For now, he just wanted to do the thing he enjoyed most; holding you and forgetting absolutely everything.

Sometimes, when he slept with you in his arms, he felt like there was nothing in the world to be afraid of.

///---///

Nothing felt off, when you woke up. You stretched your toes, hummed... with light peeking through the curtains, you decided to roll over and see if your husband was awake.

The skeleton facing you wasn’t Nightmare.

When you saw white bones again, the first thing you did was freeze. Your breathing stopped, you stared blankly - the skeleton asleep opposite you appeared startlingly like Dream. The same cheekbones, the same jaw, the same soft expression. But there were differences both minute and glaring. Dream’s face had a brightness and sharpness to it. This skeleton looked softer.

... And when blinking a few times didn’t make him go back to normal, you leapt out of bed.

His sockets opened. Purple.

Instantly, seemingly before he’d even realised you’d jumped away, he jolted, and a look of fear appeared on his face. He sat bolt upright in the bed, lifting up his hands to his face - the sight of his own bones made that look only worsen into one of outright panic, purple eyelights shrinking down into quivering dark pinpricks, deep lines of fear cutting between his brows and around his nasal cavity. He staggered out of bed...

... And over to the mirror.

It took a split second for him to look upon his face. You could see him, reflected over his own shoulder back at you. You watched as he took only a split second to see his own terrified profile staring back at him.

You had never seen so much fear strike face before.

A flash within his sockets, like an amethyst turning in the light. He reared back and punched the mirror, shattering it, the force carrying through and visibly fracturing the wall beneath. You let out a tiny yelp as glittering shards showered the bedroom floor - you moved back mostly out of confusion, but also no small amount of fear, until your tailbone bumped Nightmare’s desk. Pieces of the mirror were still peeling off the frame and dropping to the stone tiles even as the stranger put his hands over his face, stumbling to the side until he hit the wall.

“no. no,” he slid slowly down it, surrounded by shards of mirror. “no, no, no, no...”

...

You could scarcely believe it. But you knew that voice. You knew those movements. As you stared across the room at the ‘stranger’, instincts kicked in. Despite your utter disbelief, the word left your lips anyway.

“N... Nightmare?”

He lifted his face from his hands, staring at you. You gasped, quietly; yes, there he was, it couldn’t be anyone else but him. No wonder you thought he resembled Dream, the layers of tar had vanished but everything you had kissed a hundred times before was still there.

“val,” he breathed. The way he looked at you - confused, but pleading for help - you knew it was him. It couldn’t have been anyone else.

You rushed back across the room, over to him, to his side. You didn’t care about the glass. It was so, so bizarre to see him with both sockets, your eyes darted back and forth, unsure of where to look. You knelt before him; he was back to staring with horror at his violently shaking hands.

“what’s happening to me?” His voice was different, too. It didn’t have its usual commanding weight and depth. It was still distinctly him, but it felt as if his voice had been halved somehow. Gentler, higher, closer to the surface. “why... no, no, i can’t be...”

“Shh, shh.” You didn’t know if he wanted to be touched or not, so your hands hovered around his shoulders. Now that you knew it was him, you weren’t frightened anymore. You did your best to keep your own voice calm. “You’re alright. Nightmare, you’re alright.”

The lilac of his eyelights was such a beautiful, gentle colour. Though it was soft, and clearly suited his features, you were so accustomed to comforting cyan that you were unsure of what to make of it.

He was shaking all over. His voice cracked when he talked. “i don’t know what’s going on,”

“We don’t need to know what’s going on.” The more you gently spoke, the more he appeared to ease, his hands gradually coming away from his face. His eyelights, locked onto you, weren't quite so small. “We’re both fine. Take deep breaths, okay?”

You reached out, placing a hand on his cheekbone. It felt different. Smoother. But that was the extent of the differences, your hand still fit against his face like a puzzle piece.

He sucked in a sharp breath. For a moment you feared you had hurt him - were his bones sensitive like this? - you made to pull away. But Nightmare grabbed your hand with his, pressing it tight to his cheekbone.

“i-i...” He wasn’t looking at you. He was looking into the middle distance, a lost expression on his new face. Through you.

“Night?”

“i-i never thought i’d be able to...” He sounded choked. “like this...”

... His sockets... filled up with tears. They were lilac too. Shimmering like gems as his eyelights reflected in them.

Instinctively, you placed your other hand on his other cheek. He gripped that one and held it to him just as tightly, his skull sandwiched between your palms. He took in a deep, shuddering breath...

... And then openly started to weep.

You were shocked. Completely shocked. His chest fluttered, the sound was small but deafening. How many times had Nightmare cried around you? Once, for certain, perhaps twice if you were generous and counted the time you suspected he cried but had not seen tears. And even when he did cry, he always hid his face like he was ashamed, tucking into your shoulder or turning away.

But here he was. Tears moving down his cheekbones. Shaking, right in front of you; clutching your hands and sobbing.

Well. You didn’t need to pause much longer. You leant in, using your hold on his face to press a kiss to his skull. He let go of your hands and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in, with you kneeling between his legs it was a slightly awkward posture but neither of you really had it in you to care. You just held him.

He smelled the same. Like home.

Not long passed, he had always been adept at self-control. By the time you were getting used to the sound of his soft cries, they were already fading, replaced with the deep slow breaths he took to regain himself. Though the sounds ebbed away, the tears continued to run down his face like the tide.

... You had absolutely no idea what was going on. But at least he was alright. You leaned back, using your thumb to wipe at his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch.

...

... Suddenly, he gasped. It made you jump. He looked down to the floor - “the mirror. your feet,”

Before you could do more than open your mouth, his arms moved around you, he stood; you were lifted clean off the floor. Even missing half his mass, he was still so strong. As easily as ever, he carried you to the bed, sitting you down and quickly kneeling - despite the tears still visibly staining his cheekbones he only had worry for you scrawled across his face. He took one of your feet in his hands, checking for cuts, for blood, for damage.

The care in his eyelights... you couldn’t believe it had taken you so long to recognise him.

... You had completely forgotten about the shards of glass on the floor. Now that you followed his gaze down, you could see little pinpricks of red, staining the white of the nightgown around your knees. “O-oh,” was all you managed to say.

He didn’t respond. He just obsessively checked you for injuries. His hands felt... more textured than usual? Like a once-smooth stone was now mottled and aged. He moved up to your knees, lifting the hem of the nightgown over them, looking with that telltale frown on his face. He couldn’t have looked more like his old self, with that grimace.

He exhaled, slowly. “... okay. you’re fine. by some miracle, your feet missed everything.”

“And my knees?”

“just some small cuts.” He carefully pulled the hem back down. “the nightgown must’ve stopped anything from embedding. they’ll heal fine.”

He let his hands linger on your legs, staring into empty space again the moment he seemed to slip. He still looked troubled. Troubled - but not panicking anymore.

...

“Nightmare.” You spoke eventually. “You know I don’t usually ask you personal questions.”

Despite his clearly fraught state, cheekbones stained by tears, a little laugh broke out of him when he looked back up at you. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit too.

“i-i know, i know. i think i have some explaining to do, don’t i?”

You reached out your arm - without a single word needing to be spoken, he took your hand and placed it against his cheekbone again. He sighed.

“You’re the skeleton I was dreaming about.”

“i never thought this would happen. i never thought i would be like this again.”

“Again?”

...

He (clearly somewhat reluctantly) let go of your hand, standing, slowly shuffling to sit beside you on the bed. He appeared unsteady on his feet. The light from the window was catching in the shards of mirror on the floor, casting tiny freckles of light across his face; he looked... remarkably handsome. He always did, of course, but especially so like this. You felt your chest get a little tight.

“it is how i used to look. this is how i used to be.”

You tilted your head. You took in everything, eyelights, teeth, mouth. You thought about what the Nightmare you knew looked like - the collapsed socket, the dripping smile, the tentacles. The viscous black fluid covering him from head to toe.

“That’s... quite the transformation,” you murmured.

He nodded. “indeed. i used to be a different person. more like dream. but that person... entered a contract with another entity. the two of them combined, and became the person you know.”

“Hm.”

“perhaps symbiosis is a better term. nightmare was attacked by people who didn’t understand the role he played. they saw dream and nightmare, ‘good’ and ‘evil’, and placed blame on the latter for everything wrong with their lives.” He spoke about the event as if it had all occurred to someone else entirely. As if he thought nothing of it; as if he was fine. “nightmare gave his body, and the corruption gave its power. that was the deal that created me. a place to be powerful, and in return, the power to never be hurt again.”

“Corruption?” You were immediately concerned. "Nightmare,"

... He looked at you. His face was loving, he looked amused. It was nice to see a more positive emotion on him. “that’s just its name, dear.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very trustworthy name.”

“you’re married to a man called nightmare.”

“I,” ... you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “Alright, touché.”

He chuckled. He sounded so much younger. Stars, it was strange to see him this way; like a loved one coming home after shaving off all their hair or losing a vast amount of weight. Though you logically knew it was him, and you could see him so clearly within all the mannerisms of the skeleton in front of you, there was something so jarring about expecting your Nightmare and seeing another’s face staring back at you.

“I think I understand somewhat. Are you... the ‘past’ version of you right now, then?”

“... i... no.” He shook his head. “i’m still me. i can still feel everything. but the corruption has... receded. it’s been at the front for so long. it’s never done this before. i don’t know what to do.”

“Do you think you’ll turn back again soon?”

...

His eyelights widened, ever so slightly. Faint wisps of violet coloured the high edges of his cheekbones.

“you don’t prefer this form?”

You flustered - how could you say something like that? Especially when he was clearly so upset by his transformation. He smashes a mirror in front of you, and you openly express you prefer his previous body to this one? “I-I don’t mean I don’t like you like this! Of course I do,”

“darling,” he took your hand and squeezed it, cutting off your blabbering. “i like my other body more, too.”

“Y-you do?”

Smiles suited him far more. “mhm. i’m not as strong, this way. and the absence of my tentacles is noticeable. i keep wanting to hold more of you, but i simply don’t have the dexterity.”

“I just...” You exhaled, slowly, eyes trailing over his sockets and nasal ridge and jaw. “Honestly, I really miss your normal face.”

“... normal,” he hummed. It was a pleased hum.

“Well - it’s alright. Regardless of what body you’re in, you’re very handsome.”

His smile sharpened. All of a sudden, he looked like a preened bird. It was hard work not to roll your eyes; all that crying, all that vulnerability and fear, but it was clear from that grin that this was very much the same man that you had gone to bed with hours before.

“hmm. so i’m handsome to you either way? i like this conversation very much.”

“Oh you would, wouldn’t you?”

“i think i understand now.”

The sudden softness of his voice caught you off guard. You leaned back a little, to gauge his expression. He was smiling at you so fondly now.

“the deal i made. nightmare... the corruption promised no one would ever hurt him again. i wonder if...”

“... If?”

“i wonder if, for the first time since making the deal... i fear nothing.”

... You couldn’t honestly imagine Nightmare fearing anything. You had yet to meet anyone who considered your husband an equal, let alone an inferior; even Dream, his own brother, had left at the first sign of fury. Entities who caused no small amount of strife, like Killer, begged you to assure them that Nightmare wouldn’t kill them.

Then again. How much pain would someone have to go through, to become that vicious to the world around them?

You leant toward him. He immediately reciprocated the movement, touching his forehead against yours. He sighed.

“touching you, in this form... it’s...”

He trailed off. You didn’t make him finish. “You feel so different. So similar, too. It’s a little jarring.”

“i’m glad you prefer me as i am.”

“Of course I do. I married you.”

He snickered. “despite all the flaws?”

“Not despite.” It was your turn to comfortingly brush your thumb over the top of his palm. “Not despite, at all.”

“... you truly prefer my ‘normal’ form?” he asked, “even though this one is so much... cleaner?”

“You’re the one who can taste lies. You tell me.”

He chuckled. His sockets closed.

“i want to stay like this. for a while.”

“As long as you need.” You closed your eyes, too. Now that the adrenaline of the situation had settled, you could feel your sleepiness catching up with you.

“... i love you.”

“I love you too.”

...

You felt the cyan-blue light on your eyelids long before you opened them.

#commisions #he craves the love he never got before #aka: hes such a good boy and we love him!!!!

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hellodropbear · 4 months

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like she used to (II)

alexia putellas x sister.

chapter I

~~~~~~

My fingers are dancing on the piano keys, the soft melody leaving my mouth in a quiet hum when Alba walks into my room that night. My mouth closes as the door opens, but my fingers are unstoppable, continuing to abuse the keys as I continue to play the song.

My hands rest on the last keys I pressed when I am done and I think Alba is crying, unless she suddenly has allergies. It is quiet for a few moments before she speaks.

"If you weren't so good at football I would try and convince you to do this forever."

She sighs, standing up and motioning for me to follow her as she laid on my bed. I move beside her, my head now resting on her shoulder.

"I remember when you first played the piano." She smiles, reminiscing on the fond memory. "You were three, you couldn't reach the pedals but you insisted that Papi taught you something. You made us all squish onto the sofa in his office so we could listen to you play and you gave us a very slow and broken version of La Vaca Lechera. It was terrible but Papi was so proud because you had only been playing for a month and could already play with both hands. He picked you up and claimed that you would be the greatest piano player to ever walk the planet. He would be so proud of his pequena superestrella."

"I wish I knew him." They're the only words I can bring myself to say.

"He was a very good man, I miss him a lot. He would have been so proud of Ale with all her football and so proud of you with it too. And your piano. Mami sometimes says to me that you are a mini him."

I realise she is avoiding herself, a habit she got herself into a few years ago, when I followed in Alexia's footsteps by securing my spot in La Masia. She used to be upset, it was unfair. Why had the football gene just skipped her?

"He would be proud of you as well, Alba."

She shrugs, I think she tries to blinks away tears but doesn't succeed because one lands on my head

"I hope so..." she pauses. "It is harder for me to imagine because I am not outstanding at anything like you and Alexia. I am just Alba which is ok but I just don't know what he would be proud of me for."

"There is no such thing as 'just Alba' because you are the best person I know. You don't need to play football for him to be proud of you. Do you realise you are the person we all go to when we need anything? When I am sad, Alba, when I am happy, Alba, when I want to laugh, Alba, when I want to cry, Alba. You are my answer for everything, hermana. That is better than any song on the piano or the biggest trophy there is to be won."

"You are so cute, I love you." She giggles quietly and wraps her arms around me. "Aitana called me earlier and I wanted to come over and make sure you are ok."

"What did she say?"

"Not much, she just asked if everything was ok between you and me and Ale. I didn't tell her the truth, if you were wondering."

"What did you say?"

"I just said that Alexia is struggling with her injuries and that you both are very busy. I don't think she really believed me. Either that or she knows there is something else going on."

I groaned. "She kept giving me looks as we were driving home and it was annoying."

"It's sweet, she's looking out for you." Alba smiles and ruffles my hair. "You are only a little baby to them. 15 is young, pequena!"

"Yeah, well it'd be nice if my own sister did that, wouldn't it." I snap back at her and she recoils slightly.

"You won't let me do anything about it, Elena, so don't get feisty with me! Alexia is complicated and I can't even get anything out of her." She rolls her eyes. Alba is sick of all of the tension. She has been for a while.

"I don't know what to say to her anymore. Does she even know that I was called up?"

"Mami said that she wasn't going to tell her because she wanted her to hear it from you."

"She had no problem telling me when Alexia got a new girlfriend." I'm petty about it, but sometimes I think I deserve to be.

"I cannot believe you still have not met Olga." Alba sighs, flopping back down onto my mattress. "She is very nice, I think you would like her."

"I am good at getting out of things." I shrug my shoulders and Alba rolls her eyes again. "I don't want to meet her."

"You liked Jenni so much, maybe this could be the same?"

"I still talk to Jenni, on the phone. Maybe we should start an anti- Alexia Putellas club."

Alba groans and sits up, causing me to grunt in annoyance as my head is knocked onto the mattress.

"You know I don't like all of this venom between you two, so please just leave me out of it. I've had enough of you not telling me what the problem is, I am so, so sick of it. You used to be so close that I was jealous of your relationship and now all you do is complain about each other to me." She flops back onto my mattress in frustration.

"You don't understand, Alb, you don't understand what it is like for someone you idolise to practically forget your existence. She used to come to all my games and now she doesn't even know I was called up." She rolls her eyes as I move back to the piano stall, ignoring the way my voice cracked and my eyes sting with tears.

"Mierda, Elena! How many times do I have to tell you? She has been so busy. I'm sure she has tried to get to them." Even Alba can't explain Alexia's absence.

"Si, si, you have said that before but you can't understand because she never forgot about you. You didn't used to have an older sister who used to drive you to all of your trainings and games before she decided she was too busy for you and shoved you on the Barcelona busses at the age of 11!" My fingers begin to ghost the keys. Like I said to Aitana, the piano is a good outlet for my emotions. I am glad Mami let me put Papi's old piano into my room. I don't think she is glad when I wake her up in the dark hours of the morning playing loud songs.

"I have an older sister and a younger sister who used to be close and then fell out. I have a father who is dead and a busy mother. We were indestructible, Elena, but look at us now."

My left hand finds a chord and presses down on the four keys, calming my brain down.

"I am sorry that you are hurt by what has happened between Alexia and I, but I am so upset and I don't know what to do."

Alba's eyes softened but I looked down at the keys in front of me, sighing softly as she sat next to me.

"I'm sorry I can't help you more. I don't truly know what happened, but I just want things to go back to the way they were."

"I want that too." A tear found it's way from the back of my eyes but I wiped it away before it had a chance to fall down my cheek.

My fingers picked up another tune, familiarity gracing through my fingertips, the sounds floating around the room. Alba's head rests on my shoulder again and we both tell ourselves it will be ok. Alba likes when I play the piano because if she closes her eyes she can pretend it is our father.

"He was never as good as you are, hermanita."

~~~~~~

The rest of the training week went well. Better than well, but I was mainly just relieved that I wasn't a big disappointment.

The negative of my good performance is that I will be put on the team list. Jonatan pulled me aside after training today and told me I am on it and I thanked him with a smile, hiding my emotions.

I knew my sister was going to find out sooner or later. I'm honestly surprised it has taken her this long, it is not like she has been completely absent from the training grounds. Aitana seems to be the only one who has noticed that me and Alexia have not spoken, but she still has not got anything out of me.

I tell Mami to lock the doors and windows when the team list comes out because I don't want to face Alexia when she inevitably comes over and asks about it. She tells me to stop being ridiculous.

I manage to lock myself in my room when I hear her car coming up the driveway. As soon as she is in the house I climb out the window and walk to the bus stop. I don't want to deal with her tonight. I don't want to deal with her ever, to be honest.

The bus driver smiles at me as I tap on, heading to the back of the bus, no destination in mind. I am happy to just sit there as it drives through my home. My phone is unsurprisingly buzzing of the hook, full of congratulatory messages from friends and family and strangers and fans.

Aitana: *attachment: 1 file* very very proud of you! congrats little lena.

She had screenshotted the team list and put a big heart around my name and I think that might be what started to tears.

But before I knew i could see tears tracking down my face in my reflection as I stared out the window, my mind just wishing that things were normal. Wishing that I was at home celebrating with my family, excited to finally be on the same team as my older sister. I wish I wasn't crying on a bus trying to escape confrontation with my sister who I know will be disappointed that I am on her team.

But this is how it is.

I find myself getting off the bus outside the park near the training grounds, still not sure where I am going. I was considering heading in, practicing my shooting or going to the gym, although I expect they will be closed.

What I don't expect is to hear someone calling out to me.

"Pequena Putellas!" The voice is familiar and I recognise it almost immediately. "What is my little replacement doing out so late in the middle of Barcelona?"

Mapi reached me quickly despite the crutches that she doesn't seem to be relying on too heavily.

"Congratulations, replacement! First team sheet-" she stops when she sees my face. "oh."

"Hola Mapi." I put on a smile but it is a weak effort. "I'm just heading home."

"Si, this is about you and Ale, no?" I look at her curiously and she rolls her eyes. "You don't think I wouldn't have noticed? She is my best friend!"

"And that is why I can't talk to you! I have to go home because they will be looking for me." She rolls her eyes again.

"You are coming over to my house and we are talking about this like grown-ups because you are now a professional athlete. You are not a grown up but you have grown up since I saw you last pequena!" She smiles lightly and uses one arm to pull me into a hug. It is awkward with her crutches. "I have missed you so much." Her words are mumbled quietly into my hair, her arms warming me with comfort and nostalgia.

Apparently, the new apartment Mapi has moved into with Ingrid is right across the road from the park so we walk back, Mapi getting increasingly frustrated as I become more and more reluctant.

"Maria, please just let me go home?"

She was adamant that she wanted to talk. I just think she wants to know what happened between me and Alexia but I can't tell her. She wouldn't understand. Nobody would understand because everyone would just think I'm being childish and petty. Maybe that's just what I am.

We stand in silence as the elevator takes us up the levels to the apartment.

"Ingrid is not home, she is out with Frido tonight so you do not have to talk to her."

I let out a quiet exhale in relief. Ingrid is nice enough from what I know of her in training but I don't want to have this unwanted conversation in front of anyone else.

Mapi and I used to be close. She was never my favourite but that is mainly because I saw her so often that the novelty of her had worn off quickly and I found myself gravitating away from her at trainings because, like Alexia, she was just always around.

But Mapi loved me like I was her little sister because she never had any of her own. She did a lot for me as a child and tried to pretend that she wasn't offended by my blatant favouritism of other players.

She sat down on the sofa in her living room as soon as she opened the door and I grabbed her crutches that she had thrown on the floor and stood them up against the wall.

"Thankyou, now sit here." She patted the seat beside her and I sat down, my arms crossed. "Do you want to tell me why you were crying alone in the middle of Barcelona, 45 minutes away from home?"

I shook my head.

"Will Mami be mad?" I hate the wobble in my voice.

"No, I texted her and told her you were with me and she said it is ok. She is not mad at you, pequena."

"I don't like being called that anymore." I slumped down in my seat.

"What do you want to be called?" I am surprised that she didn't ask why. I suppose it might be obvious.

"I usually just get called my name." I pause. "Elena."

She smiles lightly, though I can see the water in her eyes.

"I know your name. I know you very well, Lena, I have for a long time but I also know your sister very well and I know that there have been problems for a while now and I know that she is trying her very best to not make it obvious that it is ripping her up and you are doing a very bad job of hiding your sadness. Why did you not tell her you had been called up into the first team?"

I roll my eyes but choose not to respond.

"No, don't roll your eyes at me, peque- Elena. I understand something must have happened but it is big news that you neglected to tell her!"

"What is bigger news? Breaking up with your girlfriend or being called up as a replacement in a football team?"

She hesitated and I continued.

"Getting a new girlfriend or being called up as a replacement? Buying a dog or being called up as a replacement? Being told you are about to win the Ballon d'Or or being called up as a replacement? She told me nothing for so long so don't you dare try and tell me that I should tell her about my life when she does not care to tell me about hers!"

Mapi recoiled and I immediately felt guilty.

"Sorry."

"No, don't be sorry. What else has she done to make you upset?"

"No, Mapi, we're not doing this because you don't need to know about what my sister has done to me. I don't need a psychologist, I just need to grow out of being the pathetic and weak baby Putellas. The younger sister of La Reina who has not had to work hard because her pathway has already been paved and everything has been handed to her on a silver platter." My voice is bored, like I am in front of a class, presenting a boring speech that I have practiced in my bedroom for weeks.

"Why do you say that? Where is this all coming from?" Her voice raises slightly and her arms wave about as she speaks.

"Because it is true, Maria, why else would things be the way they are? I don't deserve this, it's only been given to me because of my surname." My voice is clearly becoming more urgent and I try to calm myself down. It doesn't work.

"Where are you getting this from? You need to stop making this stuff up in your head and telling it to yourself because it could not be further from the tr-" Mapi's voice was raised, only slightly, but I could hear the wobble in her voice.

"I am not telling myself this stuff, Alexia did! And Alexia is right, she always has been and she always will be. She is a football geek she knows everything."

Mapi pauses, her mouth opening like a goldfish and her eyes staring straight into mine for any hint of exaggeration or lies. She found none. I have never been a liar.

"She... she said that? To you?" Mapi was surprised. How could her best friend have said something like that to the little girl that meant the world to her? "Alexia said that to you?"

I regret my small outburst immediately; I didn't want to tell Mapi. My fingers begin to get restless, my heart racing, my gum held firmly between my teeth. It is in these moments that I would move to the piano and prepare myself to play a song. My fingers ghost imaginary keys by my side as I take a deep breath, preparing myself to beg and plead; to do whatever I need for Mapi to forget everything I just said.

"No, you cannot say anything, Maria, this is all a lie, I am dramatic, I am making it all up. Please, just forget I said anything. Please." Tears began to slip out of my eyelids and the expression on my face can only be described as desperation.

"calma, calma. vale. I will forget everything and I will not tell anybody, as long as you don't want me to. But pequenita, it is not true, not true at all and you don't deserve for anybody at all to speak to you like that. You are talented, so talented that I am jealous of you, not your natural talents but your work ethic, Elena, your work ethic is admirable. You are so strong and you have worked for every single opportunity you have been offered and do not ever-" I look away from her.

"Look at me, Elena, look." I look towards her again and notice the water in her eyes.

"Do not ever let anybody tell you otherwise and if you do you call me up immediately and they will get a piece of my mind, si?"

I slump into Mapi's familiar arms and let out a small cry and she just squeezes me harder. I haven't ever told anyone that much of the conversation I had with Alexia - not even Alba - and to hear her best friend attempt to squash any of the worries I had about myself was refreshing. My fingers begin to ghost imaginary piano keys, preparing to begin playing a piece.

"Was this before or after you transferred to La Masia? That is around when she stopped going to your games, no?" Her voice was soft and I felt the need to answer.

"It was during the party that Mami held, when my spot at the academy was accepted. That was the reason why I started crying when I was talking to you. You probably don't even remember that, it was so long ago." I let out a dry chuckle and she rubbed her hand down my back.

"I remember. I remember thinking you were not telling me the truth but I had no idea what was wrong. You have been suffering in silence ever since?"

I don't want to nod my head because it feels dramatic to say that.

"I told Alba only a little bit of it but nobody else knows. Please, please, please don't tell anybody. Not Mami, not Alexia, not anyone. Please." I looked up at her and she stared at me wordlessly for a few moments before exhaling softly.

"Elena..." She pauses again. "As much as I want to go and give your stupid sister a piece of my mind I will not but on the condition that you talk to Alba or your Mami or me or anyone about it, si? Even Alexia. Maybe she has forgotten. But she misses you, that much I can tell."

I nod, wordlessly making a promise that I know I can not keep. She seems to be satisfied though and changes the topic.

"vale, buena. It is too late to drive you home so you will stay here tonight and Ingrid and I will drive you to Johan tomorrow, si?"

I nod, I do not have a choice.

"Is there a piano in this apartment?"

~~~~~~

Mapi saying she had a piano is an overstatement, it is a keyboard with Norwegian inscriptions that was shoved into the corner of the unused study. Apparently Ingrid does not play the piano but has always wanted to learn.

But, I take the equipment for what it is and sit on the stall, flicking through the different sounds for a while before I find something I like. The office chair behind me squeaks as Mapi sits down but I ignore her presence as I place my fingers on the keyboard.

She would have noticed the release of tension in my shoulders when I sat down. She would have noticed the sigh of relief that I released as my fingers placed themselves on the keyboard.

The song starts out slow. Ludovico Einaudi is one of my favourite composers. His notes sing out from the keyboard speakers and soon they become faster and more intense. Nuvole Bianche is a pretty song, in my opinion, and I like to make up stories as I play it whenever I do. Sometimes I relate to the stories and other times I do not.

But the song builds and builds until a brief pause in the middle in which I hear Mapi sniffling and there is shuffling downstairs. Ingrid must have arrived home. The song picks back up quickly and before I know it the last few chords are ringing out through the room and Mapi has come to stand behind me and is rubbing her hand down my back.

"The last song you played me was un elefante se balanceaba and now you are playing this. You made us sing along and you went all the way to 50, we were in there for a long time. But now you have grown up. You are still so young but you have grown up now I am so proud of you."

I can hear the tears in her eyes so I stand up and pull her into a hug. I feel guilty, she is Alexia's best friend and I accidentally slipped what Alexia said which could potentially drive them apart. But I can't help but feel relieved, I feel comfort which is something I have been looking for for such a long time. Mapi used to be like a sister to me. I don't think I even realised how much I have missed her.

"That song was so hard!"

She chuckles into the hug and I do too.

Maybe I deserve to feel like this every once in a while.

~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed x

chapter III

#woso fanfics #woso #woso imagine #woso one shot #alexia putellas #alexia x reader #barcelona femeni #fcb femení #putellas!reader

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gucciwins · 5 months

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A Family of Three Grows

A/N: Thank you to the lovely Nonnie who brought back inspiration for this story I wrote in 2020 and last gave an update in 2022. Who knew 2024 would be the year I brought it back. This was fun to write and go back to this family's dynamics. Hope you enjoy, my sweet friends 💜

Word count: 3234

Adore You / Three Time / Leather and Lace / Family / Ask

Harry loved his family.

Y/N and Atticus were everything to him and when Y/N broke the news their family was going to be growing, he was over the moon. It’s something they talked about but never rushed because they had Atticus, their sweet angel who would not stop growing.

Atticus was the smartest boy. He was the top of his class and loved to read chapter books with Y/N. Each night, they would read a chapter and discuss their thoughts over breakfast in the morning. Harry’s input was asking questions so he could stay in the loop. Harry still remembered a summer day where he went to run errands, leaving them at home reading in bed and came to find them cuddled with ten books laid on their bed. He knew his son valued this time with the woman he called Mum.

Life had treated them well. Y/N was writing, going to the studio when Atticus was at school. Harry adhered to the schedule and was open to working extra hours. Y/N and Harry were the perfect team. She helped create the entirety of Harry’s house. It was an album he felt captured their life in their own way. The grammy’s that year were a pleasant bonus to round out the amazing year they had.

Y/N and Harry were in the studio today while Atticus was at school. Harry was in no rush to push out a fourth album. He enjoyed being in the studio with Y/N. It made him fall in love with her all over again. The ideas she brought were something he didn’t take for granted.

Y/N was sitting at the piano wearing her favorite oversized Ferrari sweater. The girl clung to her worn-out shirt, despite its tears. Not that he would ever make her. He had his fair share of tattered shirts in his closet.

She was beautiful. How lucky he was to have her as his partner for the past five years. Their family is everything he dreamed of when he was a young boy. Without looking, she called for him to sit beside her on the bench. He did so without a second thought.

“I wrote a song–well, it’s unfinished,” she tells him as she plays the soothing lullaby she wrote for Atticus when he was six years old and was having a hard time sleeping through the night. It’s something she played repeatedly until Atty would fall asleep.

“Can I hear it?”

Y/N shifts. She seemed reluctant to reveal it to him.

“Well, it might not be any good,” she defends, and she pulls her notebook.

Harry frowns. Y/N being insecure in the studio is unheard of unless it’s something she’s been holding in her chest for a long time and is finally letting it out. She passes him the notebook. There’s a picture holding the place she wants him to read. One look at her is all the encouragement he needs to open up the book and read the first words: For Atty.

He reads line by line and by the time he reaches the last words, there are tears fighting to fall from his eyes. Y/N wrote a song for their song. It’s a rough draft, and he knows she wants him to help her finish it.

“Atticus knows how much we love him–how much I love him. But I want him to hear this song and know that my love isn’t something that will ever go away. If anything, it’ll only get stronger.” She tells Harry.

It takes everything in him to not break down because he never expected to be loved this much in life. He expected to be content, but this was beyond anything he could ever dream of. “It’s fucking perfect.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, it’s not even–”

Harry stops her, reaching for her hand. He brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her hand. “It’s amazing. You wrote a song for our boy. Sure it’s not finished, but you wrote those lyrics calling our sun the light of our life. The reason the world turns. I have never been able to put into words how much he means to me, but you did it.”

“I love you,” Y/N reminds him.

“Love you, too. So fucking much.”

“Will you sing it?” Y/N asks. Those beautiful eyes are staring at him and there is no way he can tell her no.

After so many years together, Harry understands how Y/N writes songs. He can see the melody written out. It’s something that frustrates Tyler because he doesn’t pick up on her cues. Harry tells him not to sweat it, it’s something only they have. Something they have as the perfect pair.

Y/N plays the melody on the piano as Harry sings the lyrics. The longer he sings, the more he feels his throat close up and by the final lyrics, he’s got tears streaming down his face. “I don’t think I can sing it without crying.”

She laughs. “You’ll have to try. I want us to record it for Atty. Maybe get it on a record for him.”

Harry gives her a long kiss. “That sounds like the best idea.”

Y/N and Harry spent the rest of the day in the studio, knowing Atticus was with Anne for the day allowed them the extra time to be in the studio. By the time dinner rolled around, Harry had ordered them food from her favorite Chinese food restaurant. Y/N reminded him three times not to forget her spring rolls. Over dinner, they discussed the song and how they might want to surprise Atticus. Y/N made him promise not to tell him until they could have it produced by their good friend, Tyler. It would take some time, but it would be worth it.

Y/N had a last surprise for Harry. They were back to sitting side by side on the piano bench when she passed him her notebook again. “There is one last surprise,” Y/N tells him. She flips the notebook a few more pages. There is a paper. He thinks nothing of it until Y/N turns it around for him.

A sonogram.

It’s a black photo with a small gray blob in the center. Harry isn’t sure what to think. It can’t be true. Can it?

He squints, picking up the paper, and in the corner has Y/N’s hyphenated name.

“Baby, is this?” He gets out.

“What is it?”

“Are we–are you?” Harry lifts his head to meet her eyes that are brimming with tears. “Are you pregnant?”

Y/N lets out a joyous laugh, one that finds a place deep in his heart. “Yeah,” she confirms. “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”

“Oh, my goodness.” Harry looks back down at the sonogram. He wants to know everything, but all he can do is cry. Y/N stands up from the bench to move closer to him. Harry turns his body, resting his head on her stomach, Y/N settles her hands on his shoulder. She lets one run through his hair as he takes in the news that they are going to be giving Atticus a sibling. Something he would ask for constantly. They were making a dream come true.

“Hi, little pea. I’m your Daddy.”

Harry pulls away from Y/N when he hears a loud sob. “I’m sorry,” Y/N apologies for startling him. “That was–I don’t even know how to explain it, but fuck, you’re so amazing.”

He drags Y/N to sit in his lap. Harry holds her close, rocking her back and forth, kissing her neck, whispering, I love you. This is something they talked about endlessly. Atticus was their boy. They had always said their family was perfect. Whether they added to their family or not, they are happy, but getting this addition into their life felt right.

Y/N isn’t sure how much time passes, but she is ready to go home and be with Atticus. As they’re packing up, Y/N steps towards Harry, knowing he might be upset with the only downside to the news of her pregnancy. “H, we can’t tell anyone. Not Atticus. Not even Anne.”

“But love, how do you expect me to resist?”

Y/N’s smile is sincere. She knows he wants to scream it from the rooftops. “It’s early,” she stresses. “I want us to make sure everything is okay. That we make it past this first trimester. I know that’s asking a lot for you.”

Harry shakes his head. “Not at all, Lovie. I understand. Your health and the babies are important. I respect that.”

She gives him a kiss. “Thank you.”

“Let’s get home to our sweet boy.”

They leave the studio with their hearts full.

It’s been three months and Y/N’s doctor gave them the all clear. Their sweet bub is growing at a good rate and Y/N is doing spectacular. No morning sickness, no weird food cravings (yet) and is glowing. Harry was excited because that meant it was time for them to share the news with their family, but most importantly, to Atticus.

Harry spent the day getting the surprise ready. The vinyl was in a special box ready to be opened and then played. They’d be doing that first, then give Atticus the news. While Harry ran around getting everything perfect, Y/N laid in the hammock in their backyard with Atticus. They each had a book in hand. Atticus at 9 was reading the Percy Jackson series, something Y/N was excited about because they were some of her favorite books when she was growing up. Now she got to see her son experience everything she did at his age. It helped that she could answer questions he had, without spoilers, of course.

Y/N set her book down, running her hand through Atticus’ brown locks similar to Harry’s. She knew he’d made a great older brother. She also feared he’d think she’d loved him less with a baby around, which was far from the truth. Atticus was hers, he was her baby boy and nothing or no one could take that from her. Harry likes to joke and say Atticus is her twin instead of his because he takes after her. Atticus has all of Harry’s looks but is everything her child for he has her love of reading. He loves the ocean and could spend hours in there with them. Atty was charismatic and had everyone’s attention as soon as he walked into a room. He exuded confidence and skillfully commanded attention with his voice. Y/N liked to say he picked up on both of their traits, but Harry assured her Atticus was a piece of her. It never failed to make her cry.

“I love you Atticus.” Y/N told him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Atticus bookmarked the page he was on. “I love you too, Mum.”

Y/N wanted to blurt out the news to Atticus, but knew Harry would be upset she did it without him, so she held it in.

“Forever going to be my sweet boy?” Y/N asks.

“Course. Going to take care of you all my life,” Atticus promises.

Y/N smiles. A very Harry answer. “Much appreciated. I think your dad has got you covered.”

Atticus shrugs, “two of us looking out for you isn’t bad.”

“Glad I’m in safe hands.”

Atticus goes back to reading but Y/N stays lost in thought, waiting for Harry to announce his arrival. It isn’t much longer when Harry rushes through the backyard, box in hand. Y/N sits up, eager to give it to her son, but Atticus doesn’t seem concerned about his reading.

“Hi bud, got you something?” Harry shakes the box softly.

“Two pages left,” Atticus mumbles.

Harry frowns. “This is your fault.” He points at Y/N.

Y/N gasps. “Please, who bought him an entire library?”

“Again you,” he defends.

“Technically, your money.”

“Our money,” Harry corrects.

Atticus is entranced in his reading and Harry uses the time to steal a kiss from Y/N. They refrain from anything too much for Atticus’ sake, but he never minds seeing them give a bit of affection.

“Chapter done,” Atticus shouts. “Gimme. Gimmie.” He makes grabby hands, but Harry shakes his head, telling him they had to head inside.

Y/N holds onto Harry’s arm as Atticus rushes inside to the piano room. It’s his favorite room in their Malibu home. The view is perfect. You can see the tides rolling in, one landing on top of another. The sounds perfect to lull someone to sleep.

Harry sits next to Atticus while Y/N kneels in front of him, her hands pressed together under her chin as she watches him tear the paper. Y/N remembers doing that as a child and knows her mother was a saint for the patience she had. Y/N is close to ripping it herself, but when she sees the brown box, she settles down for a single moment.

Atticus pulls out the record. It’s in a sleeve with a beautiful print of Y/N, Harry and Atticus running through the sand a few months back. Anne had taken it and it became their favorite picture as a family. Harry

thought it would be the perfect fit, and it was. On the top of the cover it read “Atticus’ Song”. His small hands ran over the words as he sounded it out.

“Is this us?”

Y/N stroked his cheek. “Yeah, bubs. It’s for you.”

“Can you play it?” Atticus asks Y/N.

Harry knew Y/N was nervous. Hell, he was too. There was no worse critic than an honest nine-year-old. As Y/N placed the record on the player, Atticus fiddled with the string of the bracelet he made the other day with Harry. They all had a similar one on their wrist, Atticus having made Y/N’s matching them. Y/N walked back, squeezing next to Harry. Atticus closed his eyes to focus on the opening notes of the song. He was just like Harry, a true critic and admirer of all music. This time was no different.

The song was slow and had the melody of a lullaby. Harry’s voice welcomed them into the song, with Y/N’s joining him in the chorus. Y/N saw Atticus’ lip twitch during her solo and she couldn’t help but squeeze Harry’s arm. The song ran its course, and they waited patiently for his thoughts.

“Nice. It was really nice.”

Y/N let out a deep breath she was holding. Atticus cries, and Y/N panics as she swoops him into her lap before Harry can even move. She holds him tight to her chest as she meets Harry’s worried stare.

“Darling, my darling boy. I got you. I always have you.” Y/N whispers, brushing his hair back, trying her best to soothe him. Y/N rocks him back and forth, letting him get out all his emotions.

Atticus pulls back, his sniffles the only sound in the room. “Promise I like it.”

Harry laughs. “Tears would say otherwise, bud.”

“It–I–I” Atticus isn’t sure how to explain what he felt. “Can we play it every day?”

Y/N presses a kiss to his temple. “Anything for you.”

“You wrote it Mumma?”

Harry scoffs in defense. “What if I did? Huh?”

Atticus giggles. “Okay, Dad.”

Harry pouts. Y/N is the stronger song writer, there is no fighting it. “Fine, she wrote most of it.”

“We did it together,” Y/N answers.

“It’s my new favorite.” Atticus declares proudly.

“Good. That’s good. We do have one last surprise.” Harry is eager to share the news.

He stands up and goes for the frame they put the sonogram in for Atticus to keep in his room. While Harry steps out, Y/N settles Atticus in the middle of the sofa for Harry to sit next to him. Honestly, she wants to record this moment but decides it’s better to keep it private between them. Harry comes back with his dimples on display and Atticus is quick to be suspicious.

“Now close your eyes,” Harry orders.

Atticus looks weary but does as he’s told. Harry places the frame in his hands and when Atticus opens his eyes, he is looking at their most recent sonogram. It’s clear there is a baby in the middle with its head and body. Atticus would be quick to put it together, but even if he didn’t, the frame reading “Best Brother” would be a dead giveaway. Atticus’ jaw drops at the news. His eyes were not leaving Y/N’s as if he was waiting for them to say “just kidding” because he had waited a long time for this moment. There was a baby in his mum’s stomach. He was going to be an older brother.

“Is that why you’re always snacking?” Is the first thing Atticus says.

“Atticus,” Harry shouts playfully. Harry spares a glance at Y/N, unsure how she will react. She’s been a weeping mess, even if she denies it’s the pregnancy hormones. Instead, she surprises him by laughing. It’s a full belly laugh that makes her tear up.

It is true Y/N had been snacking recently, always something in her hand from a mandarin to banana chips. Harry had stocked up on different snacks on his weekly run to Tesco. He was sure Y/N had almost finished them, but he didn’t mind making all the extra runs out. Anything for his wife.

“How long do I have to wait to meet them?” Atticus asks when Y/N’s laughter has died down.

Y/N places her hand over her stomach. She hasn’t popped yet, but her doctor told her it would happen soon. Harry had taken photos every day, so she had seen the difference. “About six months to go, Atty.”

His eyes widened. “Too long.”

Harry laughs, pushing back Atticus’ growing curls. “Trust me, I know. But we’ve got an important job during this time.”

Y/N smacks Harry’s shoulder. “You don’t have a job, baby. We want you to keep being you. You can talk to us about the baby, about anything.”

“Can they hear me?” Is his follow up question.

“Mmm, you can talk to them all you like. Your Daddy certainly likes to do so.”

“Hey,” Harry pouts. “Thought you liked it.”

Y/N gives Harry a kiss. “I love it. One of my favorite parts of the day.”

“Okay. Can I do it now?” Atticus asks.

Harry nods and gestures for him to settle on the couch with Y/N. He sits on Y/N’s lap while Harry is quick to try to move him, wanting him to be careful with her. Y/N simply pulls him closer, and it reminds him of how perfect of a mother Y/N already is.

He joins his family on the couch, all snuggled close, while they listen to Atticus talk to his sibling. It’s one of the best days of Harry’s life and he can’t wait to make more memories in a few months’ time. For now, he will enjoy these special moments.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles dad #harry styles and Atticus #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles story #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles fic

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ham-st4r · 1 year

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𝐍𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐞 (𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨) - 𝐋. 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

❥ pairing: heeseung + female reader!

♪ warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral male receiving, rough make-up sex, lover's to ex's, verbal abuse, break up, cursing, crying, arguments, angst, alcohol

♪genre: smut, fluff, angst, drama, lover's to ex's

♪summary: here!

♪number of words: 13,316k

Find your way around!

Hi, hi, this is my most recent work. Nobody gets me. It’s partially based on the song by sza. I was just listening to the song, and I got inspired to write this anyways. I hope you all enjoy it. I worked hard on it, and I’m happy with the way it came out. It’s long, but I hope you’ll be patient and make your way to the end. With that being said, please leave feedback and reblog it always makes my day to see someone complimenting me on my work.

You couldn’t believe it. After all the hard work you put in, it was finally starting to pay off all the sleepless nights, the days you didn’t feel like getting up and recording or writing, all the times you’d spend cuddled up in your boyfriend’s arms crying to him cause no matter what you did, you never felt like it was good enough.

It was all finally over, and with the help of your loving boyfriend being with you every step of the way and cheering you on from the sideline, you had finally been signed by a label, and you recorded your very first single.

You and your boyfriend, heeseung of seven years, held hands as you listened to your song play on the radio for the first time since your official debut. You both sang along softly to the lyrics, and he turned to glance at you with a fond smile cherishing this beautiful moment with his most favorite person in the whole wide world.

He wiped the few tears that trickled down your face with his thumb while the last few seconds of your song played. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you’d make a hit. I never doubted you for even a second” His soft voice comes out in almost a whisper as the song comes to an end, and the soft piano fades out.

You grabbed his hand that was placed on your cheek and brought it to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” you tell him sincerely. You can’t even remember how many times you had just thought about quitting, but he never let you cause he believed in you when Nobody else did, and he reminded you of that every single day.

He pressed the button, turning off the radio in his beater that had been getting him to point A to B for the last four years, and pulled out a green velvet box from his jacket. “And I could have never done this thing called life if it wasn’t for you” He smiled with tears gathering in his eyes. You were literally his everything since the day you met at the restaurant he worked at. He remembered the day clearly. It had been unusually busy, and order tickets were stacked. Unknowingly, he accidentally cooked your steak rare instead of medium rare once the waiter brought the food back and told him it was wrong. He felt terrible for messing it up. He took his job very seriously, so he prepared what was probably the best steak he’s ever made and specially hand delivered it to your table, apologizing over and over again before scurrying off back to the kitchen about twenty minutes later, his heart sank when the waiter called his name, he thought he had messed up another order. But he breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the words the waiter spoke. “Table number 7 said that your steak was the best she’s ever had and wanted to thank you for your hard work with a one hundred dollar tip” For the rest of the hectic night, heeseung worked hard with a smile on his face, and when he saw you come into the restaurant a week later, he knew then, and there you were the one, it was like you somehow knew he was having the worst day of his whole career and like magic, you came by and made it the best by giving him the tip of a lifetime and he just knew from that day on he needed you in his life and even though he was on the clock he made sure to get your number while sneaking you a special dessert (one that wasn’t on the menu)

You teared up once again when you saw him open the box as he held your hand from across the beat-up dash in his car. “Heeseung,” you said in absolute awe.

“Y/n, you’re my whole world, and I’m so lucky to have you in my life and to be able to call you mine. Words just aren’t enough to express how I feel about you,” he said with a shaky breath, the first tear finally rolling down his cheek. “And even though I tell you every day, I just want you to know that I love you, and I’ll never stop loving you. It’s been a really tough past couple of years for us, but I wouldn’t want to spend those years with anyone else 'cause Nobody gets me like you” His lips upturned into a small smile when he saw the surprised look on your face. "I know I'm not perfect, but I promise I'll love and take care of you until the end of time" He turned the small box showing you the ring. It wasn’t big, it wasn’t fancy, and the diamond wasn’t the size of a rock, but it was enough for you cause you knew he was proposing to you from his heart, and no ring could ever compare to the amount of love his heart held for you. “I’m so proud of you, and I’m so happy that I have someone as special as you in my life” He smiled as more tears cascaded down his pretty face. “So,” he looked at you with nothing but pure love and adoration in his eyes, and with one last shaky breath, he popped the question. “Will you marry me?”

You sat there in silence, unable to understand how you were so blessed to have your debut song played on the radio and the love of your life proposing to you all on the same day. Without a doubt, this was definitely the best day of your whole entire life, and you’d never forget it, not in a million years.

He felt his heart drop the more seconds that passed, and you didn’t say anything after a while. He took your silence as apprehension, so he tried to reassure you that he was the one for you. “I-I know your parents aren’t fond of me, and I need a new car, and I need to buy a house, bu-“You cut off his rambling and kissed him. He kissed you back immediately without any hesitation.

“Yes, yes, heeseung a million times yes!” he chuckled breathily and grabbed your shoulder across the cup holders bringing you closer as he locked lips with yours.

You pulled away, leaving just the tiniest gap between the two of you. “I want to marry you. I don’t want anybody else but you, and I don’t care what anyone thinks about you cause you’re all I’ll ever need” He leaned his forehead against yours, his warm breath tickled your nose as he distanced himself from you, and took the silver diamond embedded ring out of its little box.

His hands were shaking with nerves and excitement, and so were yours as he slipped it onto your ring finger. “I love you so much” He held your hand in his, tracing the ring with his thumb as he smiled at you.

“I love you too” You squeezed his hand and squealed in excitement.

He rolled down the window, and you looked at him in confusion cause it was literally cold and raining outside. “She wants to marry me!” He screamed proudly out the window catching the attention of the people passing by, some smiling and others giving him weird stares, but he didn’t care. He just wanted the world to know that you were his now and forever.

“Oh my god!” You giggled and cupped your hand over his mouth.

He grabbed your wrist and guided your hand to cup his cheek as he smiled widely. “My fiancée,” he leaned in to kiss you some more, and neither of you bothered rolling up the window, too lost in the moment and the softness of each other's lips to care about anything else.

Everything was going great since the release of your hit single you and heeseung finally got some free time and were now cuddled up on a small couch in your studio apartment, currently talking about your wedding and everything you should get and who to invite.

“I’m going to make sure our wedding is perfect. I promise” He kissed the crown of your head, holding you just a little bit tighter.

“We should get little mini me’s, and you’s on our cake” His chuckle filled the otherwise silent apartment, and it made your heart melt. You loved the sound of his laughter. No matter how bad of a day you had, his laugh could always make it all better.

“That would be cute,” he said as he envisioned it. He could see everything slowly coming together the more and more you both planned and talked about it.

You looked up at him and pecked his lips sweetly. “I was thinking about planning it for this summer,” he said a little reluctantly. He knew it was soon, and he didn’t want you to feel pressured, but the timing to him seemed perfect.

“Really?! I always wanted to get married in the summer since I was a little girl,” you said as you felt the excitement rising.

“Then I guess that’s settled,” he says with a smile as he plays with the ring on your finger.

You both sigh in contentment, enjoying each other’s company until the loud ringing of your phone breaks the peaceful moment.

“I’m not answering that,” you say, snuggling up closer to your fiancé and hugging him tighter, not wanting to leave his warm, comforting embrace for one second.

“But baby, that might be Steve. You’ve been waiting on him to call for a while now,” he says, knowing how badly you’ve been wanting to get an opening gig, and this phone call might just be you finally getting that chance.

It’s a good thing you had heeseung cause he was always the logical one out of the both of you.

He moved his hands off of you, allowing you to take the call. “I’ll be waiting” He smiles at you softly.

You finally get up to answer it, and he was right. It was your manager, Steve, and as exciting as the news was, you couldn’t have gotten it at a worse time.

You hang up and trudge back over to heeseung, who was patting his lap with a tired smile on his face. “Was it him?” He asks excitedly as he wraps you back in his arms again.

“Yes,” you mumble into his chest.

“I take it the news wasn’t any good…” he muttered with a sad tone.

“The news was great” He leaned back and looked at you, confused.

“Then why the sad face?” He asks while stroking your cheek.

“I got invited on tour to open up for a well-known group, and they said I’d gain a lot of experience and a bigger audience.” You explained.

“What?! Baby, that’s great news! I’m so happy for you!” you knew he’d be excited for only a moment before you broke the terrible news to him.

“It’s a summer tour, and it’s this year, and we were going to have our wedding in the summer this year….” You said sadly, and you watched his smile lessen until it was nothing but a frown.

“Oh….not great” It was silent for a few minutes before he was being the heeseung you knew, always trying to turn a bad situation into a good one no matter how terrible the circumstances were. “Look at me, love. I’m not going anywhere, okay? We can have the wedding next year” He cupped your cheeks and made you look at him, smiling at the little pout on your lips. “And besides, this is your career we’re talking about. Sure, I would love to call you my wife and be your husband, but you know what, I would love just as much?” He asked with a smile.

“What?” He squished your cheeks and kissed your pout away, replacing it with a smile.

“To see my fiancée living her dream and performing in front of millions of people after knowing what it took to get here, seeing you perform for the first time on stage, will be the happiest day of my life.”

Tears had welled in your eyes, and not a day went by where you weren’t grateful for him. He always knew just what to say to make you feel better.

He was literally perfect.

He wiped your tears before they got halfway down your cheeks. “No more crying in the studio,” he said as his voice cracked slightly. “We’ve done enough of that already” He released a heavy breath while hugging you tightly in his arms.

“Yeah, okay,” you whispered and smiled past your tears. “I love you so much I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

“I love you too, and don’t even think about it cause you’ll never be without me.”

You held each other in silence, enjoying the rest of the time you had left until the tour started.

You had been preparing everything for your upcoming shows rehearsing over and over again to make sure everything was perfect. After all, this was your first time performing on stage, and it had to be nothing but the best, no less.

“Baby, you’re going to do so good,” Heeseung startled you. He had been watching you from afar after quietly entering the studio with the spare key that you had made for him on your one-year anniversary. He had just got off of work and came to the studio after cooking you both dinner before he left the restaurant.

“Hee!” You squeal, taking off your headphones and running over to him, peppering his face with kisses.

“Hello to you too, baby,” he chuckled and set his bags down before picking you up and kissing you as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. “You miss me?” He said on your lips, teasingly swiping his tongue along them.

“I always miss you,” you whined into the kiss, and his hands moved down to your butt, squeezing it as he groaned from the feeling of your plump lips pressing against his.

After a hard day of work, feeling your lips on his was nothing short of heaven.

“Me too,” he released a breath and opened his mouth, letting your tongue explore every inch of him, but before you two got too carried away, he broke the kiss and set you back down after pecking your lips one last time. “I made us dinner,” he smiles, and you can see the exhaustion all over his features even though he tried his best to hide it, but nothing could get past you. You’ve known him for 8 years. “It’s been a while since you left the studio, and we had a date, so…” he let go of your waist and picked up the bags he brought, pulling out a bottle of your favorite wine.

“I took it upon myself to bring the date to you” He wiggled his eyebrows with a goofy smile.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You hugged him by his waist.

He set the bottle down and copied your action. “Oh, I don’t know,” he pretended to think. “But if I had to say, it’s probably because you’re the best person to ever walk this planet, and you deserve nothing but the best.”

You couldn’t believe it even after years. He could still make you feel butterflies with his effortless compliments.

“I love you so much. Did you know that?” You ask, playing with his little cravat.

“I do, but If I didn’t, I know you’d just remind me every day anyway” He pecked your forehead. “I hope you’re in the mood for steak,” he says.

“I’m always in the mood for steak,” you smile brightly. That was the first meal you both shared on your first date together. Of course, you’d always be in the mood for steak cause it always took you back to that wonderful day.

“That’s my girl. Now go sit your pretty butt down while I get your dinner.”

“No, I’ll do it.” You insist. “You just go sit and rest, okay?” You could see he was hesitant at first, but he quickly gave in cause his feet were killing him, and he was more than exhausted from picking up extra hours.

“Fine, but just this one time” He took his chef jacket off and hung it up at the door.

“That’s my boy,” you say, mimicking his words from earlier with a smile. As soon as he turned around, you took the opportunity to pat him on his butt.

“Y/n!” He squeaked and spun around, looking at you in shock. You’d never done that before. “What was that?” He asked, and you could see him blushing.

You just shrugged with a smile, and you would definitely be doing that a lot more from now on to see his cute little reaction.

During dinner, you both chatted about your jobs and how he’d been working late shifts and taking extra days.

No wonder he looked so tired, you thought.

You guys weren’t together as often as before with all the preparations you were doing for your tour. You didn’t get to keep up with the happenings, so when you did get together, the last thing you wanted was to talk about work, but luckily tonight, you both had the night to yourselves to talk about any and everything. “You should take a break, babe” He shakes his head slightly, dismissing your comment drinking the last bit of wine from his glass.

“I can’t. With the wedding coming, I need as much as I can get, you know that baby, plus I still need to save for a new car,” you just sighed.

“Hee, I make enough money for the both of us now we can live comfortably, so why do you insist on working?”

“Cause it shouldn’t be that way!” He raised his voice in frustration, not with you but with himself. “I’m supposed to take care of you, and I can barely take care of myself. Your parents even said it I’m a deadbeat that's no good for you, so to change that, I have to show them that I can provide for you that I can provide for us.”

As soon as he said that, you knew this was about way more than just making money, and he was dealing with more than he was letting on.

You pushed the empty plates aside and sat next to him on the couch, looking at his apologetic face. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to yell, okay baby? I’m just a little stressed. Lately, that’s all” He put his hand on your knee, squeezing it softly. “I won’t do it again,” he promised.

“I know, it’s okay, hee” You rubbed his back soothingly, and he closed his eyes, exhaling a deep breath. “Lay back” He looked at you confused, but when he saw you weren’t saying anything else, he laid back slowly with his head on the armrest of the sofa. “Feet up” He did as you said and placed his feet on your lap, but he was still skeptical of your motive. “Just close your eyes and relax,” and he did, too tired to question your intentions anymore.

A low hum settled in his chest as you slowly massaged his feet, rubbing the balls of each calloused foot.

You gently pinched his heel and rubbed it up and down, adding slight pressure to soothe away any aches and pains. “That feels….” He trailed off, not being able to find the right word to describe how good it felt. You chuckled lightly and continued massaging him.

Your hands trailed up to his long legs, rubbing the taut muscles of his calves.

He felt shivers all over his body from your gentle, loving touch.

You moved to his thighs as you felt them tensing under your palms. “That feels good,” he breathes out, and you smile as a warm feeling spreads across your chest as you watch him start to relax the more you caress his tired aching body.

“Turn over for me” He quickly flipped over and rested his cheek on the backs of his hands, waiting on your next move.

You put your hands under his shirt, gliding your fingers all over his back. “I know that you’re stressed, and I know you’re dealing with more than you’re telling me” He tensed up when you said that, and you sighed. “I just want you to know no matter what, I’m here for you, so don’t stress yourself out too much, okay?” you could instantly feel him loosening up again from your reassuring words, and it warmed your heart that you could be of assistance to him when he was feeling low.

“Okay, thank you, love,” he whispered, and that’s all you needed to hear from him right now. You were going to let him open up to you when he was ready.

“You have so many knots” He chuckled loudly at that but winced when you pressed down a little too roughly to massage them out. “Sorry,” you said in a tiny voice.

“I think since you hurt me, you should make it better” You rolled your eyes playfully even though he couldn’t see you. You lifted up his shirt and leaned down, placing a few kisses there as his breath hitched in his throat.

“Better?” You asked.

“Much better” He squeezed onto the cushion under him, eyes rolling back in his head, and he might have been enjoying this a little too much as he felt himself getting more and more turned on by the second.

After successfully working out the knots in his back, you told him to roll over on his back once more. “Ooh, what’s next?” He said giddily.

“I’m glad you asked,” you smirked. “Take off all your clothes now,” you said sternly, and the look on his face was completely priceless as he was trying to register what you had just said.

“What? W-why?” He laughed awkwardly and avoided eye contact with you. “I mean, a-are you sure? I haven’t even had the chance to showe-“

“Less questions, more doing” He stood up and quickly got rid of his shirt and pulled down his zip before dropping his pants.

“Those too,” you said after looking at his cute, questioning face.

“Okay,” he whispered and took a deep breath feeling overwhelmed by your sudden boldness as he freed himself from the tightness of his boxers, his dick standing up right away from how hard he had already gotten.

You bit your lip at the sight of him. Even after eight years, he still managed to amaze you in every single way.

He laid back down on the sofa as you sat between his legs, gulping loudly while watching you run your fingers over his tense abs.

He put his hands behind his head, biting on his lip softly when you kissed his thighs, and somehow, just that little bit was enough to make him impatient.

“Baby… I’m really sorry, but I don’t think I can wait” His dick twitched at the same time the words left his mouth. As much as he wanted to see what else you had in store for him, he’d have to find out another time cause, right now. He couldn’t wait to feel your mouth around him.

“Don’t apologize, baby, just relax tonight is all about you” You kissed his tip, a string of clear precum creating a connection between your lips and his pinkish tip.

You licked his warm shaft running your tongue along the protruding veins. “Shit baby, you always know how to make me feel so good” His stomach was tensing with every wet lick and swirl of your warm tongue.

Wordlessly you locked eyes with him and took half of him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down slowly.

“Oh fuck” he whined, eyes rolling back in his head immediately. It had been a while since you and him both got to spend intimate time together and just being like this with you after so long was like a dream come true.

He really missed this. He missed the feeling of your loving touch, and he missed being able to hold you and kiss you and tell you how much you mean to him in the privacy of your bedroom.

You used your other hand to stroke what couldn’t fit down your throat, and his moans increased in volume as he impatiently bucked his hips up, gagging you when he did so. “Sorry, it just feels so g-good,” he moaned, chest heaving up and down as he opened his eyes and stared down at you sucking him nearly all the way in while your hand made its way to his balls, cupping them gently just the way you knew he liked. “That’s it, love, just like that.”

You hummed around his shaft as he slid further down your throat till your lips were stretched around his thick base.

He moved his hand from behind his head, stroking your cheek lightly, before placing it on the back of your head, not to guide you but just so he could feel closer to you. “I’m so close,” he whispers shakily while feeling his tip hitting the back of your throat as you hallowed your cheeks.

Seconds later, you could feel his warm liquid invading your mouth and trickling down your throat. You kept your head still as he bucked his hips up and unknowingly gagged you again, causing you to tighten up around him. “Fuck baby,” he releases a low growl as you feel the rhythmic pulsating of his cock on your tongue.

You sucked him through his high, careful not to hurt him, knowing how sensitive he always was after cumming.

He watched you pull off of him as he caught his breath. He cupped your cheek with his palm and wiped the remaining cum off the corner of your lips with his thumb. “That was wonderful,” he chuckled breathlessly.

You smiled at him and leaned down again, kissing his abdomen to his stomach and all the way to his sweaty chest, stopping and swirling your tongue around his perky nipple while your free hand flicked the other hardened nub.

His little whimpers turned you on like crazy, but you ignored your pleasure cause right now, everything was about him and him only, and besides, his pleasure was your pleasure anyways.

He clutched onto your shirt tightly as you switched to his other nipple pulling it between your lips gently.

You could feel him arching up into you as he hugged you tightly to his body. “Y/n fuck, I need to feel you now,” he cried out, and you knew when he said it like that, he meant right this instant.

“I’m all yours,” that’s all he needed to hear, and then he was leaning up and taking you in his arms to the shower as you sucked and kissed all over his beautiful neck.

After your intimate time in the shower, he ran a bath for you both.

He was lying in the tub with hazy eyes, slowly stroking your shoulders and drawing random shapes on your skin, occasionally covering you with the suds from the bubbles he added.

“I’m serious, you know?” You brought up the conversation from earlier, and you heard him sighing behind you as you clasped your hand with his. “Just think about it for me, please?” You scooted closer to him, and he held your waist with his other hand.

“What exactly are you asking me to do, baby?” he kissed your neck sensually, and you tilted your head to the side, giving him access to nibble and gently bite your skin.

“I’m asking you to quit,” you put it simply as you reached your hand behind you and pulled him closer by his neck as he sucked even more hickeys on your skin.

“You know I can’t do that,” he mumbled, too occupied with kissing you to respond with a longer explanation.

“You can and you will. I can’t stand seeing you so tired, hee, you know that”

“I know, I know” He moved his head next to yours and spoke lowly into your ear. “Okay,” he caved in, but he knew you were right. He could work for ten years straight for seven days a week, but if he stayed at that dead-end restaurant, it still wouldn’t be enough to give you the life he wants you and him to have.

“Don’t worry about a thing. I have us, okay?” You reassured him, and it would be hard for him to accept that for a while but with you, he knew everything would be okay.

“Okay,” he nibbled on your ear lobe, using the tip of his tongue to lick the shell of your ear. “Well, since I’m now jobless, I think I have an idea of what to do with all this free time.”

“Yeah? Tell me all about it.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you everything when we get to the bedroom.”

You chuckled, blushing at his little insinuation. You knew neither of you would be getting any sleep tonight.

“Morning, my love,” heeseung whispered in the quietness of your bedroom.

“Morning,” you greeted him back groggily with your morning voice.

“Last night was great” His smile reached the corner of his eyes, creating those little wrinkles on his face that you loved so much.

“It really was” You brushed some hair out of his eyes and stroked his cheek.

“What are your plans for today, Hmm?”

“Recording, recording, and more recording,” you sighed.

“Right,” he frowned. He wasn’t taking this time apart well at all, you were literally his everything, and without you, he couldn’t help but feel like a piece of him was missing. “Don’t worry too much, alright?” he kissed the hand that was resting on his cheek still. “I heard you last night. It was beautiful” He kissed your forehead sweetly.

“Really?” You asked with puppy eyes.

“Really” He smiled but frowned when you got out of bed.

Your eyes had landed on the clock, and you were almost late for your studio session today. “On no, I’m gonna be late” You rushed out of bed and messily grabbed some clothes.

“I can drive you,” heeseung offered, about to stand up, but you pushed his chest so he could lie back down.

“I’m gonna be gone till midnight. My schedule is completely packed. You just rest till I get back, okay?” you kissed him when he tried to protest, and he just flopped back down on the pillows.

You quickly did your hair and freshened up in the bathroom. “Bye, babe,” you said before bolting out of the door, not even giving him a chance to say it back.

“Bye, I love you,” he mutters to himself. “What am I gonna do now?”

Heeseung did absolutely nothing all day but sleep until he felt the bed dip down as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

The clock read 2:17 am, and his heart ached for you as he hugged your tired body closer to his chest. “Goodnight, love,” he whispered to you.

“Night, hee,” that’s all you could say before you both fell fast asleep.

Things went like this for the next couple of months, you coming home late, and heeseung was left at the apartment alone, and lately, the tension between you and heeseung grew over just the littlest things. You both had been exhausted him emotionally while you physically, and when he took it upon himself to clean your desk in the studio cause he was bored, that just opened the door for an argument to ensue. Although that was far from his intention, he just figured instead of being lazy while you were out winning the bread, he could at least surprise you with a tidied up workspace.

But apparently, that wasn’t as good of an idea as he originally thought.

“I don’t understand why you would even touch it,” you say, annoyed you had come back early from rehearsals, and nothing was the way you had left it, and now you couldn’t find your lyric sheets. “Can you do anything right?” You said irritatedly.

“Love, I’m sorry I just wanted to do something nice for you, that’s all,” he mumbled, feeling guilty that he messed up your things. “I put it in the top drawer with the rest” He could have sworn he did.

“If you want to do something nice for me, you can get out of my sight. I leave soon, and now I won’t have time to pack or practice cause you had to do something stupid,” you snapped.

“I can pack for you,” heeseung offered.

“Don’t bother. You’ll probably just mess up something else.” You angrily leafed through all the scattered papers. “Useless,” you mumbled, but he heard it loud and clear.

That was it. He wasn’t going to stand for your behavior anymore. It’s fine if you’re irritated. He understood that, but he wasn’t going to allow you to disrespect him.

“Stop!” He raised his voice at you, and you flinched. He took long strides over to your desk and pinned you against it with his large frame pressing your back into the knobs on the drawers that dug into your flesh as he stared down at you, and his heavy breath fanned across your face. “Don’t talk to me like that ever again.”

You stood still, heart beating rapidly in your chest. “I-I’m sor,” you muttered with fear in your eyes, and his expression softened a bit, but he still remained stern.

“I put those fucking sheets together. It was you that moved them” He pressed his lips onto yours, roughly taking your breath away from his hard tone yet soft touch.

He separated from you momentarily and stripped your shirt off, leaving your top half fully exposed from your lack of a bra. He squeezed your breasts roughly, and you moaned into his mouth as his tongue swirled with yours.

You moved your hands from the desk pulling his shirt up, and he smirked into the kiss, moving back so you could pull his shirt off, leaving his dark hair messy atop his head. “Hee,” you whimper.

“Be quiet” He pushed you roughly into the desk, rutting his hardened bulge against you. “I’m gonna get rid of this bitchy attitude of yours” Never ever has he talked to you like that before, and for some reason, you kind of like this new side of him. The thought of him putting you in your place excited you.

He stuck his hand in your shorts, palming over your mound and grazing your clit with his palm.

You threw your head back and moaned loudly as he zeroed in on your neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses behind your ear, decorating your neck in red marks that would be a deep purple by tomorrow.

He took his hand outside of your shorts and pulled them down around your ankles. He kissed you as best as he could while he pulled his pants and underwear down, the jean material pooling at his feet. “Turn around,” he ordered and shoved your face against your stupid work desk. “If you’re gonna apologize, you better do it right,” he smacked your ass harshly. “Say it!” another loud smack bounced off the walls in the small studio. “Why so quiet now, hmm? Just a moment ago, you weren’t shy to call me useless” He stuck his fingers in your wet cunt without warning, pumping them in you roughly.

“Fuck!” Your legs were already shaking as you tried to hold yourself up by placing your hands flat on your desk. The brutal pace of his fingers was mind-numbing as you helplessly clamped down around his digits.

“Cause you know I didn’t fuck up your stupid little lyric sheets, is that it?” He slapped your ass again, completely unforgiving with the strength of his harsh smacks.

Now that he mentioned it, you did remember seeing them earlier, but you don’t know where you put them, and you were too full of yourself to admit it. “I don’t k-know,” you lied.

“Sure? Cause I think you do” He slowed the pace of his fingers gradually until he came to a sudden pause. “If not, then I guess I was wrong” He smirked behind you, pulling out his fingers that were sticky with your essence and sucking on them greedily.

You were still bent over, clenching around nothing and trying to back your ass up to feel him and have him touch you in any way, but he didn’t.

“Guess I don’t need to fuck the attitude out of you after all,” you heard his belt rustling behind you, indicating that he was going to pull his pants back up and leave you bent over, unsatisfied and still aching for his cock.

“No! Please, I’m sorry it was me I-I moved them,” you admitted embarrassingly. “I’m sorry.” You whimpered.

He turned you over and lifted you on top of your desk, messing up everything he had just cleaned and organized. “Say it like you mean it” He stared down at you smirking at how needy and desperate you looked as you spread your legs wide open just for him.

He rubbed his leaking tip between your legs, coating himself in your wetness as you held onto his waist for support.

You kept your lips sealed, but after a minute of his heavy cock gliding across your pussy and teasing your clit with his wet tip, you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to feel him.

You were going to apologize again, but thankfully he had mercy on you and pushed it inside, stretching you out with his big tip.

However, he didn’t have mercy on you like you once thought cause he stayed still after that, not moving even an inch.

“Please, hee, I’m so sorry. I’ll never say anything like that again,” you begged with tears almost in your eyes.

“I know you won’t” He pushed in all the way without warning, splitting your pussy open on his dick as he nestled deep inside you. “I’m gonna make sure of that” He put his hand on your throat, choking you lightly as he slammed into you, his hips colliding with your thighs as fast clapping noises filled up your studio. “The only thing you’re gonna be saying when I’m done with you is my name,” he grunted loudly while plowing into you ruthlessly, not bothering to even let you adjust properly.

“Heeseung,” you choked, barely able to speak from his grip on your throat and the brutal pace of his hips as your walls squeezed around his dick. “Fuck” you moan.

“Not so useless now, am I? I feel your little pussy sucking me right in.” His hips stuttered a bit, feeling you clench on him even tighter from the filthy words he spoke to you. “Open up that dirty little mouth” You did as he said, opening your mouth wide for him.

He spat in your mouth while fucking into you faster. Your fucked out state was making him go completely animalistic the longer you stared at him, and you were unable to speak cause how good he was doing you. Finally, after months, you were finally paying attention to him and only him in this shitty little studio of yours.

His swollen balls smacked against your ass. You spread your legs wider trying to feel every inch of him even though he was already buried to the hilt inside you and kissing your cervix repeatedly with his tip. “Nothing to say now, huh?” He teased, loving how you looked at him with your watery eyes, mouth full of his spit as you let him take you raw on your precious work desk.

He moved his hand from your neck, and his saliva trickled down your throat. You swallowed every last drop of it, eyes rolling back when his hips snapped into you, roughly jerking you back and forth on the desk.

You choked out his name as best as you could but stopped halfway when he rubbed your sensitive bud that was pulsating and desperately in need of his attention.

“Gonna cum already?” He chuckled and bit his lip, eyebrows clashing together as he slid in and out of you. “So much for me not being able to do anything right” His eyes flickered down to your breasts that were sloshing from his vigorous pace, and just the sight and the sound of your squelching pussy each time he rammed into was enough to have him mere seconds away from coming.

“Yes, hee,” you dug your nails into his waist while biting your lip. “I’m so close.”

He winced from the slight pain, but that only brought him more pleasure. “Cum on my cock, baby,” he circled your clit with his thumb, sending you to your breaking point as you came around his cock with silent cries of his name. “oh fuck!” He moaned loudly as he came from the tightness of your pussy clenching around him so deliciously, filling your insides with his warm cum.

He leaned down, locking his lips with yours, tiredly thrusting inside you as he finished at the same time with you.

He touched his sweaty forehead with yours breathing heavily as his legs began to feel numb.

You cupped his cheek and brought him in for a short but passion-filled kiss. “I’m sorry, hee,” you apologized again for lashing out at him. You truly felt bad. “It was all my faul-“

“Shhh, don’t worry, love. I understand. Let’s just forget about it and get you cleaned up. You had a long day” He pulled out and picked you up off your desk, as multiple sheets fell off of it. It was the ones you were searching so frantically for. “I’ll pretend I didn’t just see that,” he chuckled, and you hid in his chest.

“Thank you,” you muttered shyly as he walked you to the bathroom.

“Are you okay?” He asked once you got in the shower and cleaned you gently with his hands. “I didn’t hurt you anywhere, did I?” He looked at you with worry in his eyes. He knew he had gone rougher than usual due to his own frustrations at the time.

“No baby, you could never hurt me,” you assure him.

“Okay,” he whispers and kisses you slowly as he trails his hands up your sides, and you wrap your arms around his neck.”

“I love you, hee” You rested your head on his chest, listening to his calming heartbeat as the warm water from the shower cascaded down your bodies.

“Of course you love me,” he giggled, and you smiled. “I’m still going to pack for you, too” You tried to protest, but he just pushed his index finger to your lips. “And I love you too” He hugged you close and cherished what time was left before you had to go on the road.

Unfortunately, as easy as it was to make up after your first couple of fights with mind-blowing sex, now it just wasn’t that simple.

Especially after your schedule kept getting packed as the tour date was approaching, and now you had no time to talk things out cause you were too busy either working or sleeping.

And luck wasn’t on your side today either, as you and heeseung were in your tenth fight this week.

“All I’m saying is that I miss spending time with you. I don’t even get to see you anymore. You’re gone when I wake up. You don’t call or reply to my messages” He rubbed his temple in frustration. “I mean, I wake up at three in the morning to an empty bed, and you can’t even at least answer my calls. I’m just worried about you, baby, that’s all” He tried to hold you, but you didn’t have time for that. There were only a few hours left before you had to go, and here he was, trying to patch things up before you went away for a whole three months, and you just didn’t have the time for him right now.

“I work late, and you know that. I don’t see why you can’t just leave me alone. I have to put my phone on mute 'cause you just won’t stop texting me” You were haphazardly throwing some extra stuff into a suitcase.

“Well, If you’d just answer, I wouldn’t have to keep texting,” he scoffed. “Didn’t know it was a crime to fucking miss my fiancée.”

“How can you miss me when I see you every day?” you argued.

“Yeah! And that’s it, you just see me, you don’t pay attention to me. We haven’t talked in weeks. I only see you running out in the morning. It’s been months since we’ve touched and made love, and I miss you so fucking much. You don’t understand. It’s always so quiet and lonely when you’re not here” He lowers his head and picks at his nails nervously. He hated having these arguments, and he hated that he was having them with you the most.

“You knew this was what you were signing up for” You didn’t know what came over you to treat him so roughly, but he was just wearing you out lately. You had more important things to focus on, and him whining like a baby wasn’t on that list. “I can’t babysit you all the time. Maybe if you did something other than sit home all day and wait for me, you might not feel so lonely,” you spat without even looking at him, completely missing the hurt look that took over his features.

“You’re the one who told me to quit my job, and as soon as I did, you just disappeared from life and acted like you don’t even know me,” he answers with anger laced in his voice. He couldn’t believe the audacity of your words. Him quitting his job was literally your idea.

You sighed. You didn’t have any more time for his nonsense right now. “Well, I don’t care anymore. Go get a job, fly a kite for all I care” You had no idea that you were crushing him to pieces right now, too busy wrapped up in your own world that you forgot he was the reason why you were even here in the first place. “My parents were right about you. You are a deadbeat” You laughed pathetically, letting the stress of the situation go straight to your head and saying any rude thing that came to mind.

You somehow felt like it was justified for you to say such things cause right now, he was the one being hard-headed, not you. He knew you had more things to worry about right now, and he just wasn’t one of them. “I know what it is. You’re just trying to hold me back. I’m this close to my dream, and you just don’t want to see me happy.”

“What the fuck are you even on about?” He did his best to stop his voice from cracking. “I was with you every step of the way. I was there for you when no one else was. I gave you my all 'cause that’s what you deserved, I wanted you to succeed more than anyone else, and you know that” He paused for a moment to compose himself. “But now I’m not so sure anymore” The first tear rolled down his cheek, and he hated it. He hated the fact that, for the first time, he was crying alone. You were no longer sharing pain together now. You were the ones causing it for each other. “I literally fucking proposed to you 'cause I love you. I never would do anything to hurt you or our future.”

“Ha! Love? I’m sure you just were trying to tie yourself to me and use me for my fame.” Little did you know it was you who let the fame get to you. You allowed yourself to feel higher and more important than anyone else, including your own fiancé.

He let out a shocked gasp at your words. For the first time in his life, he was left speechless.

For the first time, he didn’t recognize you as the girl who gave him his first and only hundred-dollar tip.

He saw you as someone who lost their way along the road and forgot where they came from.

This wasn’t the y/n he fell in love with.

As devastating as it was for him, he just couldn’t see you two getting over this. It had been months since you started treating him this way, and It was just too high of a mountain to climb, no matter how much he wanted to be there for you. You just weren’t letting him, nor were you there for him. The last months have been nearly insufferable. He had no idea how much your career would impact the relationship, but the last week has shown him that your job was more important than him, and if he wasn’t your number one anymore, what was the point of all this fighting and suffering just to call you his fiancée?

It wasn’t worth it. Not anymore. It wasn’t.

He couldn’t do this anymore for the first time in the eight years he’s known you. He put himself first. “Since work is more important than us, you can have fun with your new relationship,” he mumbled as his voice finally broke while slipping the ring you got him off his ring finger and setting it in front of you on your desk. “Hopefully, your career can give you more than I ever could,” he turned away, leaving you speechless.

Why couldn’t he just see that you had a life to live? Why couldn’t he just understand your point of view? You thought.

He went to your bedroom and gathered up his stuff quickly. You watched him walk out the front door without looking back, and it was only after he shut the door did you regret everything that had just happened.

The silence crept up on you slowly but surely, and you were still in shock that he was actually gone eight years down the drain in the blink of an eye.

But it was too late now.

You said things that couldn’t be taken back, and even if you apologized, you’re not even sure that would erase all the horrible things you’ve said and done to him in these past months.

You wanted to forget everything and run after him so he could take you back into his arms, but you were scared to, so you foolishly let him go.

Cause If you were him, you wouldn’t take yourself back.

It had already been a year since your tour, and your career had skyrocketed beyond what anyone could have ever expected.

Except for one person.

Heeseung.

He always believed you could do anything. “I was there for you when no one else was” Those words rang in your ears over and over again as tears rolled down your cheeks. You looked down at the city view from your penthouse. “Fuck!” You screamed into the night sky, slamming your empty wine glass on the cold cement.

You tried to forget him, but every time you did anything, he took up every little crevice of your brain, and no matter what, you couldn’t escape him.

Even when you went on dates to try to get over him all you could think of was him, and the late nights he came to the studio bringing the date night to you (as he called it) with his very own cooked steak and your favorite wine.

The one relationship you were in after him (if you could even call it that) was a complete total disaster, and you were stuck dealing with a deadbeat. All he did was complain and tear you down. Criticizing your every move, He never gave you any support, and he was only interested in how much money your next show would net so he could bum off you.

He wasn’t even half the man heeseung was when he was with you.

You stayed with him for months cause you felt like that’s all you deserved, but after you found out that he cheated on you, you quickly broke things off with him.

Not cause you actually were hurt, or you cared about him, but you refused to associate yourself with a person like that.

You sighed at the memory.

Since that train wreck, you looked countless men in the face and turned them down every single last one cause no matter what, you could never get over him. Every time you looked at a man, you could still only ever see heeseung’s face.

All you could think of was heeseung 24/7, and no matter what, he always treated you with the utmost respect. You didn’t always agree with things, and you both had your fights here and there, but he was the first one to apologize and talk things over, always willing to understand your side no matter what.

You missed him so bad you cried yourself to sleep countless nights thinking of what you could have been if you hadn’t been so careless with your words and so dismissive of his feelings. If you could go back in time, you would reverse everything. You wouldn’t even think twice about it.

You couldn’t help but daydream about him coming to your concerts and being your number-one fan, and celebrating your first show together with you. You just know that he would have been so happy for you, and those would have been the best moments of your career, without a doubt.

But if you were being real, you deserved less. He should’ve never been the first one to apologize for all the times you fought. He should have never been made to feel like less cause you put your career over him cause he definitely wasn’t. He was worth more than any career in the whole entire world.

But now, all you could do was hang on to the little bit that was left of him.

You took his engagement band with you everywhere, and you never took yours off except for during interviews, so you wouldn’t raise any questions. You know you should have, but you just wanted to keep everything that made you hold onto the memories of when you two were together and happy.

Some nights, you just wanted to call him and tell him you wanted him back and you didn’t want to see him with anyone else but you, that no one else made you feel the way he did, as selfish as it was, you just wanted to tell him you wanted him to be yours again.

Cause no matter how hard you try. You just couldn’t let him go.

As you stared at the empty bottle of your favorite wine on your nightstand, even that reminded you of him, and like every night since your break up, you cried yourself to sleep.

Heeseung was back at his old restaurant job. Luckily for him, he left on good terms with everyone, and they were happy to have him back cause he was by far the best cook and worker there.

He was currently cooking and serving up dishes, frantically rereading order tickets to make sure he got all the orders correct.

It was only when he hit the bell and yelled, “Order for table fifteen,” that he heard an oh-so-familiar voice. He looked up at one of the TVs in the top left corner of the restaurant, and he was captivated by who he saw.

After a year, he remembers all the lyrics to that song, and he remembers reciting them to you a few weeks before your tour. That was one of his favorites from you.

Heck, all your songs were his favorite.

It was one of the first songs you had ever written. It was about how you two first met.

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched you live your dream. As much as you hurt him, he still just couldn’t forget about you. He tried to go out a little and find someone new, not to replace you but to move on, but that quickly came to an end when every time he even looked at a girl, all he saw was your pretty face.

Yeah, you said some really terrible things, but he knew deep down you didn’t mean that it was just a hard time for you both, but he knew things wouldn’t have worked. That’s why he didn’t go running back to you after all this time apart. He had done some thinking, and though he couldn’t see it right away, he knew your guy's breakup was inevitable.

Apart of him wishes, he didn’t walk out on you that day, but what would have changed? You were too busy for him. There was no longer a slot for him in your busy schedule anymore. He chalked it up to the right people wrong time.

Call him whipped. He didn’t care cause no matter what, you’d always be his girl, and he’d always be your number-one fanboy.

He sang along as he watched you fondly on the TV. He knew you had what it took to get where you are today. A doubt never crossed his mind when he first saw you perform. He knew you were made for it.

As you held the last note of the song, he held his breath, not blinking even once so he could capture this beautiful moment and store it in his heart forever. What could he say? He was a very sentimental guy.

Unknowingly he clapped for you while all his other co-workers were bumping into him and shouting his name so he could get back to work.

“That’s my girl” He smiled proudly as the camera panned back and showed thousands of people in the crowd supporting you.

“In your dreams, kid, now stop daydreaming about a girl that doesn’t even know you exist. I need five more steaks, medium rare” His boss patted his shoulder lightly.

“Yes, chef!” Heeseung answered while wiping his hands on his towel before preparing fresh steaks for all the waiting customers. “If only he knew,” heeseung whispered and smiled to himself.

And if only he had of looked up for just a second, he would have noticed the camera do a close-up of your face and give him a clear view of his engagement band hanging off the dainty chain that you wore around your neck every performance.

As much as heeseung wanted to ignore it, he couldn’t. The billboards were literally everywhere, and he’s not sure if he was zeroed in on them just because it was you or if it was that you were really just that popular that your world tour was marketed on literally everything.

Though it didn’t much matter anyways cause he still saw it, and he had already purchased a front-row ticket to see you live in his city, one that he may have bought on resell, and he also may have spent his months' savings to get it.

He wasn’t stalking you, but he knew you had moved out some time ago after randomly hearing people chatting about you, and he might have watched a couple of your interviews from time to time just to see how you were doing.

Sadly, you never mentioned him in any of them, but why would you? You both literally broke things off a year ago. You probably didn’t even think about him anymore, or maybe you did, but he couldn’t really say.

Of course, he thought of calling though he wasn’t sure why exactly but whenever he did he reached the dial tone it didn’t come as a shock he knew when you moved you changed your number too, but it didn’t stop him from ringing a few times maybe it was just out of habit.

The idea of seeing you after all this time made him extremely nervous, but he just needed to see you one last time in person just to get the last little bit of closure his heart yearned for after missing you for a whole year.

Your nerves were going absolutely crazy. You were about to take the stage in five, and no matter how many shows you had done, this one definitely meant the most to you cause it was in your hometown. It was where everything began.

More importantly, it was where you and your favorite person met and got engaged.

You grabbed his ring, bringing it to your lips and kissing the silver band softly.

You thought back to everything that happened, and you knew no matter how things ended, heeseung was somewhere, and he was proud of you.

That’s just the type of guy he was, never one to harbor any malice in his heart. He was the true definition of an angel.

“On in two,” You heard in the background of your thoughts, and with that, you wiped your tears before straightening out your clothing and taking a deep breath.

“You’re gonna do great,” you muttered to yourself.

That’s what heeseung would have said if he was here right now and if you didn’t have that knowledge, you’re sure you wouldn’t have been able to take the stage.

You looked at the crowd from behind the curtain, and your heart sank even further. As shallow as it sounds and as dramatic as you were being, you couldn’t help but think this is what you traded heeseung for. This is what you gave up the love of your life for.

As you were lost in the thought, the final minutes passed, and before you knew it, you were going up on stage as the crowd roared for you.

Heeseung had been pacing back and forth on his lunch break. Today was the day of your concert, and he was chickening out. He got called into work today on his day off and deemed that to be more important than seeing you.

That’s what he tried to convince himself of, but he knew it was just him being a scaredy cat.

Your concert must have been on for at least an hour, and he had to drive at least half an hour to get to the venue.

Without thinking or notifying any of his co-workers, he got in his same little beater and sped off to the venue as fast as possible.

He may have been honked at, and he may have honked back, but after running at least two red lights and changing lanes without his signal, he was parked in front of the venue, hearing the music blasting throughout the arena.

He dashed out of his car and thanked whatever higher being that was out there cause, luckily for him. They haven’t shut the doors yet.

He got a couple of weird looks as he made his way through the crowd, still in his work uniform, but he didn’t care as he nearly tripped while trying to find his seat, row 1, seat 7. What coincidence, he thought you sat at table number 7 the night he first saw you, and now he was sitting in seat 7 the first time he saw you perform. “Lucky number 7,” he said and smiled.

Once he found his seat, he looked up from his ticket, and his heart nearly stopped as he heard the last bit of your latest song.

His mouth parted in awe, and in the moment, he wasn’t sad and thinking about your breakup. He wasn’t going to see you to try and win you back.

He just wanted to watch his baby perform in front of thousands in your guy’s hometown, just like you and him always talked about always dreamed about.

Once your song ended, the lights dimmed, and you went backstage to change your outfit, getting ready to sing your unreleased song.

It was something special you had prepared just for this stop in your hometown.

You knew it would only break your heart even more to do this, but you had to. It felt right.

You changed into the same outfit the day heeseung proposed to you, looking at yourself with a forced smile in the mirror. You prepared yourself for your final song.

The loud cheers were drowned out by your seemingly never-ending thoughts today. The concert was everything you dreamed of and more it’s just too bad that Heeseung wasn’t here to see how far you’ve come.

You just wished you hadn’t said what you said and did what you did. It was selfish and hurtful, and you can’t imagine what he must have felt like. He literally sacrificed so much for you. But you were too stuck up to put yourself in his shoes for one day. You think maybe if you had of just listened to him one of the countless times he tried to express how he was feeling, maybe that dreadful day would have never come, and maybe he’d be in the front row watching and cheering you on right now as you sang your 15th and final song of the night.

Your feet moved on their own as you walked onto the dark stage. You stood in the middle, a spotlight shining above you that slowly panned back to the crowd, now giving the room a warm feel.

Everyone cheered loudly once you came back out on the stage, and you thanked them with a warm smile once they had quieted down a bit. “I have something special planned, but before I perform my last song, I’d just like to thank each and every one of you for coming out tonight.”

You were overwhelmed by the crowd noise, but you were so grateful for how loved you were by so many. “As a lot of you know, this is my hometown, and I made my first hit single in a little studio just about fifteen minutes from here” The crowd went silent and held on to every word as you gave your final speech. You were even more grateful for how respectful your fans were. “Performing here has always been my dream, and now that it has become a reality, this moment now holds a special place in my heart, and I’ll never forget this for years to come” You fought back the tears and tried to finish. What you prepared without getting too emotional.

“You can do it,” Heeseung muttered as he watched you wiping a few stray tears and holding the mic up to your mouth once more as the crowd encouraged you by cheering and whistling. “That’s my strong girl” He smiled proudly as you started to speak again.

“One thing a lot of you don’t know is that I used to share that studio with my boyfriend, well actually fiancé and now ex” You could hear the crowd gasping at the news that you’ve never told anyone, not even your parents cause you knew no matter what you told them they’d blame it all on heeseung and he didn’t deserve that especially cause it was all your fault.

Heeseung immediately froze up. Were you talking about him?

No.

You must be talking about someone you met after him, he quickly concluded.

“I wrote this song for him because he’s the reason I’m standing on this stage tonight in front of you all right now when no one else believed in me. He did. When I couldn’t afford the rent for the studio, he worked extra shifts just to make my dream come true.”

This sounded a lot like the experiences you both went through, but heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up. It’s been a year. You could have had multiple ex’s by now, for all he knows.

“I never forgot the day he proposed to me. It was the best day of my life. My first single had just finished playing on the radio, and out of nowhere, he popped the question, and of course, I said yes” You smiled softly.

Now he was positive you were talking about him, and he teared up immediately. He remembers that day like yesterday. No wonder you were wearing that outfit. It all made sense to him now, and he was more than grateful that you mentioned him at your live show.

“Everything seemed to be perfect. My career was taking off. We were going to get married in the summer of last year, but my tour came up, and we spent less time together and more time fighting until one day, I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean, and that led us to break up” you said heartbroken you knew you were sharing a little bit too much, but you hoped after performing here and getting all this weight off your chest it would help you heal even just a little bit.

More loud gasps and murmurs were heard, but you didn’t let it get to you too much cause people always had something to say, rather it was good or bad.

Heeseung couldn’t stand to watch you so vulnerable up there and all alone. He wanted to jump on stage and pull you in his arms and tell you that everything was okay.

“As bad as this might sound if I could, I’d trade my career to have him back” You took a deep breath. “I’d give up all this just to call him mine again.”

“Stop saying nonsense,” heeseung’s voice cracked as he smiled sadly, a tear escaping his eye and trickling down his cheek.

“If he were here, I would tell him I’m sorry for everything and that he was right and tell him just how much I still love him” No matter how hard you tried to fight it, you couldn’t hide the pain in your voice as you spoke those words straight from your heart.

“I love you too, baby. I promised I’d never stop loving you” He’s a thousand percent sure he was getting weird stares, but once again, he didn’t care. Nothing else mattered but you, him, and this once in a lifetime moment.

You tried to lighten the mood a bit before your last song. “Oh, and one more thing, I’m in the mood for steak,” you laughed, and so did the crowd. Even though they had no idea what you meant by that, you knew heeseung would, though, but you were still thankful that they played along.

“Always in the mood for steak,” He laughed quietly and blinked his tears away, dabbing his nose.

You gave the crew a thumbs up, and your final song played. “Thank you all for coming tonight. It has been an honor to perform here. This is my unreleased song dedicated to my wonderful ex-fiancé. It’s called “Nobody gets me,” you spoke softly into the mic. “Thank you for everything, and thank you to everyone who traveled to come see me. Please have a safe trip home. I love you all.” You blew a kiss to the audience.

Heeseung was taking in the moment glancing at the crowd as they all watched you with phones in their hands and the flashlight on. This is what you both always dreamed of big lights, thousands of people, and him proudly cheering for you in the crowd.

Halfway through the song, his ears perked up at the familiar words you sang.

♪ Nobody gets me like you.

How am I supposed to let you go? Only like myself when I'm with you.

Nobody gets me. You do♪

He remembered telling you those words the day he proposed, and his heart nearly leaped from his chest.

You remembered.

♪If I'm real, I deserve less If I was you, I wouldn't take me back. I pretend when I'm with a man, it's you, And I know that it's too late.♪

The next few lines made his heartache. He didn’t feel that way at all. He would have taken you back in a heartbeat if you had of just called and apologized.

♪I don't wanna lose what's left of you.♪

You subtly pointed to the engagement band around your neck, and he didn’t miss it. If his eyes were correct, that was his ring.

After seeing that there was no way he was going to leave without seeing you again, he had so many questions to ask.

Your eyes searched the faces in the crowd, something you did from time to time to connect with your audience. You saw one face that stood out from the rest, and you could have sworn you were dreaming or someone was playing tricks on you cause there’s no way lee heeseung, your ex-fiancé slash love of your life, was watching you perform with the brightest smile on his face.

But even when you blinked and looked again, he was still there, giving you a shy wave with a sheepish smile as you teared up. The song was coming to a close, and you only looked at him the whole time.

♪You do Nobody gets me, you do (do) You do Nobody gets me, you do (do, ooh) You do, Nobody gets me, you do (do, ooh)♪

You looked directly into his eyes, not blinking for even a second as you closed out the song with tears in your eyes.

♪Nobody gets me. You do.♪

The lights dimmed, and all you heard were cheers as you made your way to the dressing room, clutching your chest while everyone congratulated you on your amazing performance backstage.

What is he doing here?

How was he here?

Why was he here?

Did a friend drag him here, or did he actually come to see you so? Many questions were swirling in your head, and it gave you a headache.

You were nearly hyperventilating as you took a drink from your cold water bottle.

You had been sitting there thinking about the last performance thinking about the way he looked at you with that beautiful smile of his.

He looked just the same.

“There you are,” you heard the voice of one of your managers. “Look who came to see you,” Steve smiled. He had known you and heeseung since way back, all the way back before you made your first single. He was the one that set up your tour last summer. He didn’t know why he started seeing less and less of heeseung as time passed or how you two ended, but when he asked. You just told him you were taking a break, and he never brought it up again since you seemed sensitive about the topic.

You turned in your seat, having a feeling you already knew who it was, and when your eyes met, you could have sworn you stopped breathing.

There he was in all of his beauty, and you smiled slightly when you saw him still wearing his chef jacket.

He smiled back at you shyly, and wow, were you absolutely gorgeous, just the way he remembered you. He knew it’s only been a year, but still. “Thank you, Steve. I owe you one,” heeseung shook your manager's hand.

“Hey, how about one of your infamous steaks? Since we’re in town,” Steve patted heeseung on the back with a light chuckle.

“You got it,” heeseung agreed, and Steve waved at you both before leaving you two alone.

Now that heeseung was alone with you for the first time in a year, the nerves had built up all over again. Still, he took confident strides toward you before he could even make it to you. You were already sprinting over to him with tears in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him tightly.

You knew you had no right to, but you couldn’t help yourself.

He automatically welcomed you into his embrace, and it felt like you were never apart for even a second. That’s just how familiar you felt to him.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t cry, it’s okay,” he shushed you and patted your head softly.

“I’m so sorry,” you said over and over again. Finally, after a year, you could say the words that you should have said the day he left, even before the day he left.

His heart broke at the sound of your weak sobs, and he couldn’t help but tear up as well. He always cried when you cried cause no matter what, he never wanted you to be alone in anything that you did. If you were happy, he was happy with you. If you were sad, he was sad. He was never in between. “It’s all okay now, baby. I forgive you.”

When he said baby, you literally froze in your tracks and pulled away from him. “Baby?” You asked with a confused tone fighting back a smile after hearing him call you that after so long.

“Yes, you never stopped being my baby” You pulled him even closer to you, pressing a kiss on his lips, both of you getting a taste of the salty tears that stained both your cheeks.

“Hee,” you mumbled breathlessly and looked him in the eyes. You were so nervous about doing this, but you had to. You pulled away from the hug and unclasped your necklace, taking off his ring. “I-“He had already outstretched his hand, waiting for you to slip his ring back on his finger where it belonged. “I love you so much, hee” He pulled you into another tight hug, rocking you back and forth gently.

“I love you too, I love you, I love you, I love you” He playfully kissed every inch of your face, and though few words were shared since seeing him again, your performance and his silver ring shining on his finger said more than a million words.

You giggle, and it was music to his ears to hear after so long. You played with his little cravat on his chef jacket just like before, and he smiled brightly. “So, are you still in the mood for steak?” He chuckled with a raise of his brow.

“I’m always in the mood for steak” He hooked his arm around your waist, leading you two out of the back of the venue. You’d get Steve to cover for you for your sudden disappearance.

“That’s my girl” He leaned down and kissed your lips sweetly as you clutched onto him tighter. “Just wait till chef sees this,” he smiles proudly at you.

You just looked at him quizzically, and he just gave you a smile. “Did you enjoy the concert?” You ask him excitedly.

“Well……” he chuckles nervously. “How about we talk about it over dinner, Hmm?”

“Sure” The smile never left either of your faces as you drove to the restaurant in his beater, hand in hand.

As you look at him, he stares back at you with that one-in-a-billion smile of his, you made a promise to yourself to never hurt him again, and you swore you’d do whatever it took to keep him and that beautiful smile on his precious face.

Cause you’d never find anyone else that gets you like him.

FIN.

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback! - 🐹

#enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen smut #enhypen lee heeseung smut #Spotify #heeseung #enhypen #lee heeseung #enhypen hard hours #heeseung x reader #smut #heeseung angst #enhypen heeseung fluff #enhypen angst #kpop #fanfic

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sebscore · 1 year

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hey lovely! i love how u write and i’ve just had this idea for a request for a while and it’s with charles and u know how he plays the piano 😁 so the reader loves to sing and has a really nice voice so he loves to play like an adele song and let her just singgg. I think it’s so sweeet, have nice day/night ily!!🫶

PIANO PRINCE | CHARLES LECLERC

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

warnings: this is heavily inspired by taylor swift and joe alwyn's relationship!

author's note: this is probably the first and only time I'll ever complete a request the day it was requested lol- I'm proud of myself. I know it is not exactly like how you suggested it, but I still hope you enjoy it! thanks for the support and I hope you have a nice day!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''There is this one name that comes up a few times in the song credits,'' Jimmy puts the cover art of her new album down, ''Jules Perceval.'' He reads out loud, a humorous grin on his face.

Y/N nods her head, already knowing where this was going. ''Yes, Jules Perceval.'' She confirms.

''Your fans are quite confused on who this person is, because it's the first time they've shown up in your album credits and they have a lot of theories so can you confirm who Jules Perceval is?'' Her publicist had already confirmed with Jimmy's team that they had permission to ask about the mystery person that had producing credits on her new body of work.

The singer laughs as the audience reacts enthusiastically. ''Yes, I can,'' she mischievously smiles at Jimmy who claps his hands, ''Jules Perceval is a pseudonym for my boyfriend.'' As soon as the words left her mouth, the crowd started applauding and making 'ooh'- noises.

''Your boyfriend? Is he a composer or?'' The host grows more curious at the revelation that it's her significant other.

She shakes her head. ''No, he's actually a, uh, race car driver.'' Y/N chuckles, Jimmy's surprised face amusing her greatly.

''A race car driver? Wow, that's quite a contrast,'' he laughs, the audience giggling along with him, ''how did you guys end up working together? Because your jobs are vastly different.'' He asks, putting his cards down.

''It wasn't planned, but Charles- my boyfriend- he loves playing the piano and he's been doing that for years, and one day he was just playing around on it and not taking it very seriously, but he played this certain melody that caught my attention,'' she explained, ''I asked him to play it again, recorded it on my phone and I send it to my producer that I usually work with.''

''He sent a more worked out version of the melody back and that's how it came about.'' She finished her explanation.

Jimmy and the audience looked impressed. ''That's amazing! And why did he decide to use a pseudonym and not his real name?''

''We wanted people to listen to the song without having any higher expectations simply because he was in the credits.'' Y/N answers, diplomatically.

''Jules Perceval sounds very fancy,'' Jimmy smiled, gathering some laughs from the crowd, ''did you come up with that or did your boyfriend?''

''That was all him,'' she grinned, ''his godfather is named Jules and one of his middle names is Perceval so that's how the name came about.'' Y/N remembers clearly how proud Charles looked as he told her and her team which name he wanted to be credited under.

''I love that! Well, if the racing doesn't work out, he has another profession he can get right into.'' Jimmy teased, leaning his arms on the desk.

Y/N giggled, hiding her face in her hands. ''I'll tell him that.''

''So… I can quit racing, huh?'' Charles' tired voice sounded over the phone, the mischief still present.

Y/N snorted at his greeting. ''You watched the interview then, I thought you might be too busy to watch it.''

''Of course I saw it, it was your first time on the show- I couldn't miss it.'' His words melted her heart, touched by the fact that he still took the time to watch her interview despite being busy in Italy with simulator work.

''I really appreciate it, honey- I hope you're doing well, you sound very tired.'' His voice was a bit deeper than usual, indicating just how exhausted he was.

She could hear him chuckle on the other side. ''I'm fine, chérie,'' he assured her, ''it was just a long day, that's all.''

Y/N was about to reply, but her manager waved her hands in front of her face. ''I'm sorry, we have to go now.'' She whispered, pointing at the door of the dressing room.

''You have to go, huh?'' Charles sighed.

''Yeah,'' the singer pouted, disappointed the couple didn't get to call for at least a few more minutes, ''I'll call you later, though.''

''It's okay, mon amour,'' despite not seeing him, she was sure he was smiling, ''I'm always proud of you, okay? I'm thinking of you.'' The driver let her know the words in his heart.

''I'm thinking of you too- I love you.'' Y/N bid him goodbye.

''Je t'aime.''

#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic

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juyeonszn · 1 year

Text

WHAT IS LOVE?

PAIRING ₊˚⊹ lee juyeon x f!reader

GENRES ₊˚⊹ fluff﹒crack﹒angst﹒slice of life

WARNINGS ₊˚⊹ mature language bc even on a different blog i won’t ever change, uni!au, reader is a matchmaker, juyeon plays baseball, lots of kys and kms jokes, sunwoo is an incel, a bunch of lesbian jokes, um one sided pining for a while, like i am absolutely ruthless to reader for a Hot Minute i am so sorry, but it’s okay!!! bc then i’m also ruthless to juyeon, the unrequited love in this series goes crazy, it wouldn’t be a fawn smau without a second lead — so there is a small second lead moment, most of the written parts are full of sheer Angst and i’m not sorry about it, there’s like idol shipping in here ? but it’s for the sake of the plot i swear i don’t condone idol shipping 😭 it’s literally in my carrd, the bullying in this smau goes even crazier, ummm for some reason there are a lot of barbie references towards the end

FEATURING ₊˚⊹ the rest of tbz, soyeon + yuqi from (g)-idle, seonghwa from ateez, lee know from skz, sakura from le sserafim, dahyun + tzuyu from twice, jaehyun from nct and mingyu from seventeen

SUMMARY ₊˚⊹ all is well in the business of matchmaking. except it’s actually not, because lee juyeon, the school’s star baseball player, has just come to you for help in obtaining the girl of his dreams. oh yeah! and he happens to be the guy you’ve had a crush on since your first year of university.

STATUS ₊˚⊹ complete!

BEGINNING ₊˚⊹ august 1st, 2023

ENDING ₊˚⊹ october 19th, 2023

MORE ₊˚⊹ HIIIII hello!!! my first smau on another blog this is crazy ?!!2!!22!!2 fun fact; in case the plot seems familiar, it was an old wip for yeonjunszn that i had for jake from enhypen and decided to scrap for reasons that i do not remember LOL but then it came back to me and i decided to redo it for juyo bc it was so juyo-coded and now we’re here 🤗 send an ask to join the taglist (bc note and dm notifs get swallowed up with the ones from my other blog)!!

PROFILES ₊˚⊹ realize real eyes real lies | ball hitters + the token lesbian | ouran high school host club (+ tzuyu)

ONE ₊˚⊹ i’m the ceo president and chair mama

TWO ₊˚⊹ the hwang yeji incident

THREE ₊˚⊹ i hide and u seek therapy!

FOUR ₊˚⊹ /s or /j

FIVE ₊˚⊹ setting virgins up with other virgins

SIX ₊˚⊹ POSER FAKE FAN

SEVEN ₊˚⊹ #mancrushfriday #mrstealyogirl

EIGHT ₊˚⊹ I HATE WHEN WOMEN ARE RIGHT

NINE ₊˚⊹ the start of a W matchmaking season

TEN ₊˚⊹ ur on THIN ICE JAMAL

ELEVEN ₊˚⊹ Just Like A Doughnut (2.04k)

TWELVE ₊˚⊹ need a comically large piano to fall on top of me

THIRTEEN ₊˚⊹ hit tweet follow me 🙌🙏

FOURTEEN ₊˚⊹ what the bell are u talking about

FIFTEEN ₊˚⊹ THAT WAS A CRY FOR HELP

SIXTEEN ₊˚⊹ chest heavy eyes misty

SEVENTEEN ₊˚⊹ they laugh at me cause i’m emo

EIGHTEEN ₊˚⊹ sangyeon boyfriend material era

NINETEEN ₊˚⊹ Blocked and Reported for threatening language

TWENTY ₊˚⊹ A Hole In The Shape Of You (2.17k)

TWENTY ONE ₊˚⊹ men against song yuqi

TWENTY TWO ₊˚⊹ i thought we were friends.

TWENTY THREE ₊˚⊹ u think i’m pretty??? 🥰

TWENTY FOUR ₊˚⊹ for research purposes

TWENTY FIVE ₊˚⊹ The Middle Of My Heart (1.60k)

TWENTY SIX ₊˚⊹ AND THE CROWD GOES WILD

TWENTY SEVEN ₊˚⊹ to me it was

TWENTY EIGHT ₊˚⊹ clown to clown communication

TWENTY NINE ₊˚⊹ A Space Just For You (2.05k)

THIRTY ₊˚⊹ THE JUYEON THERAPY FUND

THIRTY ONE ₊˚⊹ is this pic AI generated

THIRTY TWO ₊˚⊹ i’m gay…

THIRTY THREE ₊˚⊹ 11:11 make a wish

THIRTY FOUR ₊˚⊹ Our Love Loop (2.62k)

THIRTY FIVE ₊˚⊹ graduated from bitchless university

#the boyz #tbz #the boyz smau #the boyz social media au #tbz smau #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon smau #lee juyeon social media au #juyeon x reader #juyeon smau #juyeon social media au #juyeonszn #what.is.love.juyeon🩷

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cinnaminsvga · 8 months

Text

🥀 | yoongi

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ vampire!yoongi ft. lots of miscommunication (all because newly-turned yoongi doesn't know how to talk to women lol) | 2.6K words → a/n: SURPRISE i am miraculously alive and well (?) back at it again with some weird monsterfucker propaganda... it's been months since i've written a fic so pardon the lacking quality but i Am Trying... also i added ghost!maknaeline bc i think they'd be cute... umm this might become a series if anyone is interested but i think it works as a standalone... enjoy!!!

When Yoongi first agreed to being turned, he never imagined being so tired all the time. Even as a mortal, Yoongi had never been the most energetic soul. He preferred loafing around at home or reading a nice book by the fire. He rarely left his drafty villa, always isolated despite the nearby town. The most cardio he would ever do was when he’d take the few steps needed to get to his piano and play a few soft songs for the ghosts wandering down his halls.

He knew the neighbors liked to whisper about him, liked to refer to him as a local boogeyman to scare naughty children. “Beware the man who sold his soul to the devil,” they warned, though Yoongi supposes their silly rumors weren’t so far from the truth. Although, it was only a month ago that he did “sell his soul,” just not for the reasons that people might have expected.

Still, being a vampire was still very strange and new to Yoongi. He’d known about spirits and ghosts for as long as he can remember, but even he thought that creatures of the night were nothing more than an urban legend. All it took was one high-stakes game of cards and an empty promise to pay back a debt for Yoongi to realize that it probably isn’t smart to make deals with ghoulish-looking men in strange clothing in the first place.

It wasn’t all bad, save for the never-ending fatigue and deathly pallor to his skin. He was still Yoongi, just… worse, if you will.

For safety’s sake, he hadn’t told anyone about it. He was a bit embarrassed, to be honest. If his brother found out, he’d surely get an earful (or a stake through his heart, though Yoongi hopes his Seokjin hyung would remember all the good times they had together). Most importantly, he could absolutely NEVER tell you about his turning. That would be absolutely humiliating.

You were a witch doctor he had met just a few weeks prior to his turning. You had just moved into his sleepy town as a “pharmacist” who could “magically” make any ailment disappear. You had decided to move there on a whim after being exhausted from the high-paced nature of the big city.

You had spotted a small line of ghosts trailing after him on the night you had moved in. He had been on the way to the convenience store for a caffeine fix, and you had been on the way there to grab a couple of toiletries you had forgotten to pack.

You were so sweet, shyly approaching him under the guise of asking him if he could reach for a snack on a high shelf. But he could see your worried gaze fixed on the three spectral children climbing on his back, though he did nothing to shoo them away. After all, they had no mass, so as long as they didn’t lick his neck or something weird, he was fine with letting them be menaces.

When he had his back turned away from you to grab your snack, he could hear you quietly telling the ghosts to get off of him. They only laughed in response, their giggles always sounding a little muffled and distorted.

Yoongi plucked the bag of chips from the shelf and turned back to you, catching a glimpse of your annoyed expression before you could school it back into something more neutral.

“Is something the matter?” Yoongi asked smoothly, handing you the bag. He amusedly watched as your brows furrowed, not even hiding that you were glaring pointedly at the little gremlins making faces at you from his shoulder.

Jungkook, the youngest of the three ghosts, climbed on Yoongi’s head before proceeding to pull down his pants, mooning you with his spectral ass.

“Uh, nothing,” you eventually said, huffing indignantly as you stomped away. Yoongi caught you discreetly poking your tongue out in annoyance before you turned to another aisle.

Thus began your cautious attempts at exorcising him without trying to “alert” him to it. It was amusing to watch you try to “save” him from the three little ghosts that decided to cling onto him, and it was even more amusing to watch you fail repeatedly every time.

Yoongi made no comment when you were suddenly bumping into him everywhere he went. There was always a terse grin on your face as you performed as many anti-ghost spells as you could, but none of them ever seemed to work. The truth was, ghosts could only be exorcised if the haunted person in question wanted them to leave, but Yoongi had found himself a little fond of these stupid little kids. They might be slowly sucking the life force out of him, but Yoongi didn’t really care. They were just kids, and he’s always been too soft for his own good.

Your many encounters with him created a subtle friendship of sorts, one that Yoongi found himself enjoying. He was never been one to foster friendships with living beings, but perhaps your sweet attempts to save his soul might have defrosted his little grinch heart. But he wouldn’t ever tell you that, of course.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that you were very pretty, for that matter. He certainly would NEVER tell you that as well.

Was he feeling guilty for not telling you about his ability to see ghosts? Slightly. But was it cute watching you trying to outsmart three little ghost babies to no avail? Very much so.

So, Yoongi stayed quiet and enjoyed your company, even if you had no idea who he was or what type of things he was capable of.

That was until he got into that damn bet with the stupid bloodsucker.

Probably shouldn’t call him that, given that I’ve become one myself, Yoongi groaned internally. He’d been hiding in his house for a month now, and your “random” visits were surely on the horizon. He wasn’t sure if you’d immediately clock that he’d turned into a vampire, but he wasn’t going to risk it. If you found out, then you’d find out about everything, and that wouldn’t be a good impression.

Yoongi knew he wasn’t great at interacting with people, let alone people he had a crush on. But at least he knew that lying to someone for extended periods of time was probably not in his favor.

Little Jungkook fluttered close to him, his smoky form twinkling from the moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “When is the pretty witch coming to visit?” he asked, a little forlorn. Among the three ghosts, Jungkook was the one who’d grown attached to you the most. “I miss playing with her…”

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his face. “Hopefully never,” he responded, voice muffled by his hands. He peered through his fingers and saw the two other kids floating by his doorway.

Jimin, the older twin, nudged Taehyung forward to speak. “Y-Yoongi… I think she’s coming soon,” Taehyung whispered, a tinge of excitement evident in his tone.

“You can’t keep hiding from her forever… She's sure to find out anyway,” Jimin warned, uncharacteristically stern.

Yoongi stretched his tired limbs, his aching back cracking as he pushed himself off his sofa. Time moved weirdly ever since he turned into a vampire. This month had felt like a day, so it was hard to tell how long he'd been sitting so still. His creaking bones gave him an idea though, that's for sure. “I know… how much do I have to bribe you three to scare her away?”

Jungkook giggled, floating over to sit on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Nothing. We do that all the time for free,” he snickered.

Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’s true… but she never seems to go away even when we do.”

“In fact, I know she thinks we’re cute,” Jimin said, and Yoongi couldn’t help but agree. Your cat and mouse game with the three idiots was probably past the point of annoyance and more towards the territory of playfulness. You likely noticed how they weren’t exactly the malicious ghosts that people feared, so you humored their antics.

(Yoongi hoped that you stuck around for him, too.)

“How much longer ’til she gets here?” Yoongi asked, walking to his bedroom. The air was stale inside the room, not having to use the bed as much as he once did. He opened his closet, trying to find some better-looking clothes than the threadbare robe he had decided to live in. He plucked a nice button-up shirt, before thinking better of it.

Am I really going to look like a stereotypical vampire when I meet her? What’s next, a cape?

“She’s a few blocks away,” Taehyung responded. The ghost paused, looking at the shirt Yoongi had put back. “No, wear that. She likes it when you wear that shirt.”

“She thinks you look regal in it,” Jimin agreed, grabbing his only pair of slacks. “These, too. She likes your butt in them.”

If Yoongi were still human, he’d probably blush. “I told you boys it’s rude to eavesdrop on her thoughts,” he scolded.

“You like the reassurance, though…” Jungkook muttered, but Yoongi ignored him.

“Two minutes away…!” Taehyung reminded him before disappearing. The two others followed suit, likely going to meet you before you arrived. Yoongi sighed, a headache slowly forming by his temple.

As promised, after two minutes, there was a knock from his front door. As Yoongi reluctantly approached and reached for the doorknob, he could hear you arguing playfully with his little friends.

“Taehyung, no pulling! I just got my hair fixed,” you whined. Despite your words, Yoongi could hear the affection in your voice, plain as day.

“You look really pretty today, noona…” Jungkook giggled, and Yoongi could imagine Jungkook placing a chaste kiss on your cheek in greeting. “Are you finally gonna tell hyung about your crush on him?”

“What are you talking about?!” you yelped. Yoongi heard something fall, then a string of curses from you. “Oh gosh, the food! I hope nothing spilled…”

“Don’t worry, noona. I doubt Yoongi hyung is hungry,” Jimin giggled slyly. “Unless you count how he’s hungry for you…”

Before you could reply to Jimin’s out-of-pocket comment, Yoongi swung open the door, an alarmed expression on his face. “H-hey, Y/N,” he began, a little awkwardly. He cleared his throat, trying to appear as if he hadn’t heard anything at all. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

You froze when Yoongi suddenly appeared. You were in the midst of rearranging the plastic bags of take-out food with your jaw agape, likely about to chastise Jimin for his rudeness. You floundered for a second before straightening up quickly. Your cheeks were a cute shade of red.

(Yeah, maybe he was a little hungry…)

“Yoongi! Oh god, sorry, I was just…” you stumbled for a moment, trying to figure out a way to explain yourself. Behind you, the three stooges grinned evilly, full of satisfaction.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asked instead, bending down to gather your bags. The smell of take-out Chinese wafted into his nose, and he had to hide his growing smile. His favorite food, you had remembered. If he could eat, he’d be salivating.

“Yoongi hyung is salivating for a different reason…” Taehyung muttered, reading his thoughts. Yoongi and your eyes widened in alarm, causing the three kids to guffaw in response.

“Sorry, I was on the phone with somebody and the bags slipped,” you coughed, quickly grabbing the rest of the bags. In your haste, your hands accidentally touched, making you gasp in surprise.

“Gosh, Yoongi! Your hands are terribly cold! Are you alright…?” you asked, trailing off. When you tore your gaze away from his pale hand, you slowly turned to face him fully. Due to the uproar caused by the kids earlier, you hadn't been able to look at Yoongi properly since you arrived.

Yoongi braced himself, a terse smile on his lips.

You observed him silently, a mysterious emotion flitting through your face. Yoongi saw the way your gaze shifted to the injury on his neck, which he had recklessly forgotten to at least try to cover up. The dots were connecting, and Yoongi waited for you to make the first move.

To his surprise, you started by staring inquisitively at the kids. “Did you guys…?” you asked, suspicious. This was the first time you had openly addressed them in front of him, and Yoongi was shocked. Not only for that, but for also potentially thinking that they were to blame, somehow. Didn’t you trust them by now?

Jimin looked affronted, scoffing at your train of thought. “Us? Of course not! Why on earth would we do that to hyung?”

Jungkook huffed, wrapping an arm around your waist with a sad pout. “Yeah! Why would we hurt hyung on purpose? You don’t think we’d do that, right?” he asked, eyes watering with hurt tears.

Immediately, your expression softened. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” you trailed off, sighing. As if remembering where you were, you snapped back to reality, staring incredulously at Yoongi as if he’d grown three heads. Well, or turned into a vampire, he supposed.

“Yoongi! What on earth happened?” you asked, terrified for him. Or perhaps, terrified of him? Yoongi knew he should be feeling guilty, or embarrassed, or maybe a little ashamed, but all he could see was your worry for him, and his dead little heart would have skipped a beat if it still could. God, he was pathetic.

Instead of answering you truthfully, Yoongi chose to run away from his problems, like he always did. “It’s just a mosquito bite,” he explained lamely. He rubbed the very conspicuous marks in question, wincing slightly. It might have been a month since he turned, but it still felt as tender as it did the day it happened.

You stared at him, unimpressed. “In the middle of winter? When you rarely step out of your house?” you asked sarcastically. You gave him a steely glare. “Be serious with me for a second, Yoongi.”

But Yoongi couldn’t. He couldn’t tell you, or else he’d literally die a second death, from embarrassment or heartbreak, he couldn’t tell.

“I… I don’t actually know,” Yoongi lied. It was sort of true. He didn’t know that the stupid bet would actually mean he’d give up his soul to pay for an impossible debt. He had been swindled, that was it. He still didn’t understand how he could’ve been so stupid.

“He didn’t know he was stupid… what a joke,” Jimin murmured, causing the others to giggle in turn. You and Yoongi ignored them.

When he didn’t explain further, your shoulders slumped, defeated. You likely didn’t believe him one bit, but you were never the type to push. You were probably as shy as he was, which had caused its fair share of misunderstandings in the past. Most of the time, those misunderstandings helped Yoongi, though he often wished that he didn’t need them. One day, he’d be honest with you, but for now…

“May I come in, Yoongi? There’s something I have to tell you…” you started, eyes shifting behind you. The kids hovered closer, watching you with curiosity.

Yoongi felt the air turn colder, though he wasn’t sure if it was just him, the wind, or the ghosts doing it. Or maybe it was you.

Yoongi opened the door wider, gesturing for you to come in. “Please, make yourself at home…” he whispered before closing the door gently.

Outside, the three boys didn’t make a move to come in.

“Now… we wait,” Jimin whispered. The other two nodded, faces determined. They floated to the second floor of Yoongi’s villa, still keeping their ears to the floor. As much as they wanted to interrupt, they knew this was an important development for the two of you. They wanted to give you a false sense of privacy, but they could never stop themselves from hearing the gossip. God knows that these rascals would be bored without their daily dose of real telenovela romance.

In the living room, Yoongi took a seat as far away from you on the couch as possible. He laced his hands with an iron grip, forcing himself to stop any fidgeting.

Breaking the silence, you sighed tiredly. “So… where do I begin?”

#yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagines #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts x reader #min yoongi #the sleep deprived series #this has been IN MY DRAFTS for months now....#god i am so stuck in my monster phase #i want to write more... MORE...#is this what it feels like to be inspired #idk who i think i am but man... love this guy #kinda obsessed with this au tee bee aych

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krispdreemurr · 8 months

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At first, she's not sure she's even hearing the notes.

They're distant and quiet. Even with her earbuds out, she has to strain to hear anything at all. The notes keep faltering before she can be sure what she's listening to.

She sets aside her notebook and moves out into the hall.

As she starts the walk to the dining room, she can hear them more clearly. It's definitely the piano in the side room, she's sure on that now. But the song...

The song is just the first few notes and chords, again and again, played clumsily and haltingly. There's jarring dissonant edges, and the rhythm is unsteady.

If the tune weren't so familiar, she'd have no idea at all.

(In front of her, or with family, they'd play things she knew - classical music, adaptations of songs from video games or Asriel's anime, more than a few Rickrolls.)

(It was only when they were alone that they'd play the same few songs, simpler melodies that she never heard anywhere else before or after.)

She reaches the doorway, gazing in through the open door.

The room is dimly lit, the moonlight through the windows providing most of the illumination. They're framed against an open window, a silhouette bent over the piano. She watches, silent, as they drag their hand down the keys, press down too hard and get a jarring burst of sound.

She remembers how they used to play. Fluid, graceful. It was the only time she ever really saw them comfortable in their own skin.

That's gone, now.

"Kris...?" she asks softly, stepping through the door.

The next part, at least, is familiar. They stare at her, wide-eyed, looking half-panicked. Hands frozen.

Despite herself, she tries to smile, glancing at the open window. "You know, I'm pretty sure dad gave you a spare key."

They stare a moment more, then laugh, hoarse and tired. Some of the tension bleeds. "Yeah, but breaking in through the window is cooler."

"You're just lucky I forgot how to set up the alarm system..." She steps closer, hooves clicking on hardwood. "It's one AM, Kris. Why are you here? Not that, um, you can't visit, just--"

There's a long silence, where they just stare at their hands on the keys. They're shaking, she realizes.

"Sorry," they say finally. "It was a stupid idea. I just--miss it. And the hospital is closed to visitors. I just wanted to, to at least try... Even if I know I can't any more, not like this." Another ragged laugh. This one has less humor. "Sorry. I'll go."

She looks at them a few moments more.

Maybe she should push more. Ask them what they mean by "like this", demand explanations for why they've been so weird lately, reprimand them for breaking in. She remembers them nine years old and coughing without end, begging her not to tell their mom and dad. She remembers how they drew away in the days after the accident, and how quiet they've been ever since. She knows they shut down, hide, conceal themself. She knows.

But she's tired too, and if she pushes they'll run, and she's lost so much already.

"Can I listen?" she says instead.

They blink, once, then shrug. "Sure, yeah... You wanna sit outside like old times? Think I can handle an audience for the world's worst concert, but..."

"No, I'd rather stay." She goes to settle down in the corner, folding her legs. "I never got to see you play much back then."

"Well, you're not going to see much today," they say dryly.

Their fingers linger a moment more, shuffling uncertainly and stiffly, trying to find purchase--

And then they play.

It's still halting and awkward, marred by misplaced notes and stilted pauses. It's nothing like it was, back when they were something not quite like friends and not quite like family.

But still, still--

Still she closes her eyes, and she listens once again.

#krisp fic #deltarune #thinking abt trying to play piano when your body is stuck on manual

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torchflies · 2 months

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Hi TG Fandom!

(I’m currently trapped in the hellscape of trying to finish a year of personal development hours in a week, while studying for four cert tests).

But!!! Do we remember this quote?

“I've never lost a wingman.”

“You're lucky. Fly long enough, it'll happen. There will be others.”

What if we got to have a Rooster who did? One who has lost a wingman? What if we got a Rooster who became a Maverick to another wingman and another little boy?

Picture this, okay?

Rooster, young, angry and defiant, is at Top Gun and avoiding the piano at the Hard Deck like it has cooties — until one day, the day before he's meant to be assigned a new WSO, he decides to go for it, to play again after everything.

Instead, he finds a random guy at the piano, one with light blond hair and a rolling laugh, who is messing around with the keys and singing an odd kind of song without any words. The song comes from his chest and throat like a howl, but with more bones than he's ever heard from anything else. So, Bradley asks about it. The guy tells him it’s not a song per se: he's joiking.

He presents a joik of the sky, of the green grass or snow in the winter. It isn't about something, it is something. It’s like creating a watercolor likeness of a person or thing through sound, using his voice.

“I'm Máhtte Kvitfjell.” He says and at the look on Bradley’s face, he laughs and adds, “They call me Iceland — my callsign?”

“You’re from Iceland?”

“Nope, Boston — but Norway before that.”

It isn't a surprise to either of them that Iceland is his new WSO. They become inseparable, Landy (because he could never call him Ice) learns everything there is to know about Bradley Bradshaw and he doesn't go running for the hills. He listens and loves and slowly, Bradley begins to heal. He gets to experience bits of Norwegian culture through Landy, but mainly Sami culture. Landy is South Sami, and so are his wife and little boy Loekte. They raise reindeer back home, just like Landy did when he was a little boy. But, dreams of flight led him to joining his grandparents in America when he got older, and eventually becoming Bradley’s wizzo.

They fly together for years and in the same mission where a hotshot pilot named Hangman, Bradley’s ex, gets his first air-to-air kill — he throws them into an unrecoverable flat spin and Landy doesn't survive his ejection.

“Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.” Much?

So, Bradley is left to mourn his best-friend, his brother, and when Loekte’s mother dies — he's left to raise a ten-year-old alone.

By the time the uranium plant mission rolls around, Bradley is a grown man with a metric ton of baggage and Hangman gets a brand new wizzo by the name of Loetke “Songbird” Kvitfjell.

Give me an AU where Maverick gets to meet a Bradley who has felt the same pain as him, and get an adopted grandson too.

One where Loekte is wondering what the hell happened to his calm and level-headed dad — he's having a tantrum, what is up with that? He's forty?

Just, a patchwork family brought together from loss.

I need Bradley and Maverick to realize how similar they are and how they both fucked up so terribly. I need no one to be innocent in this situation (except a very normal and well-adjusted Loekte who is trying his hardest to figure out everything his dad won’t say and Iceman Kazansky, who always lives babeyyy).

🤣

#top gun #top gun maverick #icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun 1986 #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #i love this so much #Sami culture #Norwegian culture #hangster #sereshaw #tw death mention

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cityofmeliora · 2 months

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kinda late but here is the Terzo childhood headcanons AKA new yorker Terzo post. for @plaquerat <3

ok so. i don't really have a solid interpretation of the lore, and my headcanons aren't very detailed. i'm open to floating a lot of different ideas. here are some that i like:

i've liked the idea that Terzo was primarily raised by his mother ever since i first saw the interview where TF (as nameless ghoul) suggests Terzo may be nicer than Secondo because "he seems to have, i dont know, a kinder mother?" and then i found the official instagram post mentioning Terzo's mother attending his concert in New York, and i was like 'oh! maybe she lives there. maybe Terzo used to live there with her.' it got me thinking...

Terzo was born in california and then moved to new york with his mom after she and Nihil split.

seeing the skyscrapers in new york for the first time was a really formative experience for him. that sense of awe he felt eventually inspired his interest in art deco and futurist art. new york became the base for his imaginary city of Meliora. (this is partly inspired by my own experience as a native californian because we don't really have tall buildings in california and i FREAKED OUT when i visited new york and chicago and saw REAL tall buildings.)

Terzo's mother was an artist and he spent a lot of time in the studio with her and her artist friends. their apartment walls were covered with Terzo's own art.

art and music and culture have always been at the center of Terzo's life. he and his mom would always be listening to music or viewing art galleries or watching movies together. i think Terzo's dynamic with his mother was very much like this anecdote from Carly Rae Jepsen:

My mom and I would sit and meticulously go through Leonard Cohen and Joni Mitchell lyrics together. Even from a young age I remember her being like, “I’m playing this Leonard Cohen song called ‘Famous Blue Raincoat,’ and when it’s done I want you to tell me what’s going on in it.” She would give me like a fake glass of wine when I was 8, and I would listen and be like, “I think there was an affair.” Pitchfork - Carly Rae Jepsen on the Music That Made Her (2019)

Terzo turned out to be a gifted child. super smart and naturally talented at a lot of things, but he particularly loved to build with lego / blocks and play piano.

Terzo had a great relationship with his mom. she always supported him and encouraged him to pursue his interests and to do his best.

Terzo missed his dad though. his parents had been together long enough for Terzo to remember him. he was just a kid. he didn't know any better.

when Ghost debuted and Nihil became an internationally famous one-hit wonder, Terzo developed this idealized image of Nihil as a cool rock star cultural icon in his head. idolized him a bit.

after this, Terzo decided he wanted to get serious about becoming an entertainer / musician. started doing piano recitals and competitions. youth theater. film club. all the things.

if anyone asked Terzo why he wanted to become an entertainer, he'd tell them it's because it's what he's good at. and he's always wanted to be famous. which was true, but...

what he wouldn't tell them is that a part of him was trying to emulate [his idea of] his dad and secretly hoping that if he shared that interest / became famous his dad would want come back into his life.

he knew his mom was always there supporting him, but every time he went onstage he would look out into the audience hoping his dad might be there to surprise him. (he never was.)

Nihil was the first of many many disappointments in Terzo's life.

oops! i made it sad.

anyway here's a doodle of kid Terzo getting a postcard from his dad... he didn't hear from his dad again for a very. very long time after that.

there are a lot of details i haven't square hammered out, but it's okay because these headcanons are mostly for me to like, frame Terzo's character development over time. might post more later :)

#hahaha idk why but i actually feel so nervous sharing lol #i said i would post this today and it is 11:55pm so #terzo #radley post #headcanon #fan art #radley art

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vyl3tpwny · 3 months

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wauitb what the fuck i have 5000 followers

this is insane hi guys

to celebrate 5000 followers on tublr here are some facts about myself: - my favourite food is fried chicken

- my favourite food is spicy fried chicken

most of my hyperfixations fluctuate in and out, but some that don't ever seem to let me go are my little pony, half life, skrillex, undertale/deltarune

recently i have developed an unfathomable obsession with bees i have a huge bee hyperfixation i play bee swarm simulator on roblox every day and i watch bee videos and i also just designed a beesona on pony town its name is beetrice the dragon bee:

my favourite movie is probably wolf children or mr. bean's holiday or elf

im basically lucario for girls

i am like a dragon and i collect things that i like.. you can see some here:

i play a lot of instruments, mostly piano, drums, singing, and guitar/bass/ukulele. my first instrument was the drums tho which i started playing when i was 2 or something. i no longer play drums because our house is too small for a drum set right now and i dont like electronic drum kits. one day!!!!

i have had zero music lessons which is why you should also make music bc you dont need to spend life savings on music education to make chunes

non-musicians who have influenced me the most are @sterfler and @astroeden who have changed my brain chemistry forever artistically (this is not an exaggeration)

i am not allergic to anything at all somehow

im the motherfucker who will drink an entire gallon of whole milk with nothing else yeah im just kind of awesome like that

i do not drink alcohol (anymore) or smoke or do drugs or anything like that just a personal pref

i am filipino but i am also chinese and scottish and italian and polish and maybe other things

i have been openly queer since 2011

i have been a furry since 2007 or something?

i have been making music since 2007 or something....?

my first true love as a musician was queen, which (because of their older albums) was my rabbit hole into the world of progressive rock. my passion for creating music was nurtured entirely by my discovery of genesis and the album 'the lamb lies down on broadway'. the next thing that shaped me as an artist? skrillex - 'scary monsters and nice sprites'

i have really bad verbal processing issues so you can probably speak directly to me and i will have no idea what youre saying sometimes

my feelings on art change a lot but i update my topster lists every now and again

i am mostly right [hoofed] but i'm technically ambidextrous

my first concert was bruce springsteen i think it was in 2009. i still love the the boss to this day.

i'm a kitty cat

i am also a dragon

i am also a possum

i am a formless void

my first song i wrote when i was 8 was titled after a jimmy neutron reference

the second song i wrote was a fan song about the flying dutchman

i played the original dota warcraft 3 mods long before dota 2 and league of legends existed because i've been a blizzard fangirl since like 2005 and now i hate blizzard so fuck you blizzard you're evil as shit but anyway i used to try and do map development for warcraft iii games but really my favourite thing to do was build maps where i could build the biggest possible army to fight npcs for fun. one of the first videos on my thecobalion channel is a warcraft iii map someone else made. i've just now turned it off private so you can see it if you want.

my favourite kind of humour is recursive

ok thanks what i can remember about myself right now. thanks for following me!!!!

#vyop

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svt-rosalie · 10 months

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. . . ♡ MAMA ! ? 🐚 2023 ★ ﾟ๑

ׁ ׅ ୨ ❪ moments! ❫ ୧ ⊹ ࣪

warnings! mentions of anxiety, mentions of a passed family member, woozi and rosie being the cutest couple korea knows, speeches, sucky writing

MAMA 2023 was the award show to see if you are a Rosalie stan! She was nominated in four categories and stole the night, as she should! Rosalie won in all four categories she was nominated in, including; Worldwide Fan Choice, Best Female Artist, Song Of The Year, and Best Music Video.

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ROSIE’S BEST MOMENTS !

— rosie is the biggest extrovert and loves talking to the other idols! It causes a big of mayhem for her members but who cares? not rosalie.

— you can see rosalie at some points sneaking over to le sserafim’s seating spot and talking to all of the girls and laughing loudly that you almost hear it in the background

— on the first day when they were late, rosalie kept trying not to laugh at the realization and got caught on the screen and got very embarrassed

— rosalie was dancing to almost every single song preformed especially bouncy by ateez, that’s her ass shaking song come on guys

— she started crying when woozi gave his speech for album of year and had to be consoled by seungcheol. and then cried even harder at wonwoo and seungkwan’s speech wishing only the best for the boys.

— there was multiple times woozi and rosie were caught on screen talking and holding hands during random parts of the award show

— the screams that came afterwards were oscar worthy! yunjin of le sserafim was definitely not one of those screams

— rosalie was able to perform breathe with woozi playing the piano.

— she preformed in a beautiful light blue gown, her sister’s favorite color

— every time rosie won an award the boys were hyping her up so hard and embarrassing her so hard, it was so cute though to see her laugh and playfully scold them

— when rosalie won song of the year, she had jihoon come up as well to give a speech with her

— WOOZI’S SPEECH: “Breathe is a song of comfort. It’s a song that’s suppose to let you know that it’s okay, and that someone cares. This song is for Rosalie, a girl who continues to put on a smile no matter the circumstances! Ever since we met, she never went a day without laughing and trying to make other people feel happy, regardless of how she was feeling. She deserved to know that it was okay to be upset and to need a second to breathe.

I hope people will continue to find comfort in this song and support Rosalie till the end.”

— she definitely didn’t cry when she got home that night remembering his words

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ROSIE WINS SONG OF THE YEAR!

Rosalie was in her own world at this point, the award show had been going on for what felt like hours which in her case you can’t blame her. It was just one of those days where she would rather be cuddled up to her animals reading a good romance book rather than sit here, waiting for a event to decide if she or her group we’re good enough for the title of “Album of the Year”. But she was grateful, 2022 and 2023 had been a tough year and she was happy she was even nominated for a category.

Always her worst critic.

Though it was finally time for the ‘Song of the Year’ category, one that she had been anticipating for a while . . . more like the whole award show. Rosalie was nervous and couldn’t help but clutch the person’s hand that was nexts to her, Jihoon.

Rosalie lets out a sigh of relief and her worries subside, for the mean time.

Then the (dreaded) words came from the announcers lips “Samsung Galaxy Song of the Year goes to….”

Rosalie didn’t know what she was stressing about. It was as if her brain couldn’t decide which thing to worry about the most; what if I don’t win, what if I do win and so forget my speech, what if I trip going up the stage, what if?

All of that seemed to fade away when the words “Breathe, Rosalie!”

Rosalie’s eyes widen comically and was captured on the big screen for all the other idols and fans to see (which they found adorable) she covered her mouth in surprise and walked up the stage never letting go of Woozi’s hand. This was just as much his award as it was hers. He wrote the song, he produced it, all Rosalie did was sing it.

Rosie made it center stage, right there for all eyes.

“Ahh, I don’t know what to say! I had a speech for incase I won but I didn’t think I would so i forgot it.” Rosie said pouting. Anyone could tell she was nervous, you didn’t need to be close to her to notice the shakiness in her hands as one held the golden MAMA award and the other holding onto Woozi like a lifeline.

Rosie took a deep breath in and out before continuing, “I never expected to get an award like this and I am so so thankful to CARATs and to everyone who stood by me and supported me and this song. This song is everything to me and I’m so glad it’s getting recognized for what it’s worth.”

Woozi stepped a bit closer to Rosie at this point and held her hand a bit tighter.

“There is one person I would like to thank from the bottom of my heart. . . my little sister who wished for this day with me. We would watch the award shows together when I had first debuted and she dreamed I would win an award like this for her one day.” Rosie looked up trying to avoid letting the tears roll down, and took another deep breath in . . . and out.

“She would say ‘Unnie! Please win a big award so I can brag to all my friends that I have the most popular older sister in the world!’ and at that time, I didn’t think it would be a reality. But here I am!”

The crowd screamed for her as she held up the award, Woozi letting out a chuckle beside her as she did.

“My little Sarang, My forever Valentine — I did it! Aren’t you proud of your most popular awesome sister?” She asked rhetorically looking up the roof of the building. Breathe, in . . . and out. “I’ll be sure to remember this day forever and make more music people can find comfort in it as I did. Thank you!”

taglist — @angie-x3 @alixnsuperstxr @allthings-fandoms

click here to join the taglist!

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tonicandjins · 1 year

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find your way back home | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck | haechan x female reader

word count: 22.5k

genre: fluff, some mentions of sex, ANGST and nostalgia lots of it, haechan-centric, slow burn

warnings: mentions of sex, excessive drinking, will talk about insomnia and depression

summary: nct’s haechan gets into a scandal after a night of drinking his ass off in hongdae, which prompts the management to put him in an indefinite hiatus. and it’s not like it’s the first time, because over the past months, haechan’s drinking problem had gone worse. hence, his parents send him back to jeju island for some healing time because his parents and managers think that maybe some time home would help. haechan laughs at the thought. if medication can’t, what can jeju island do? besides, he hasn’t been there in literal years.

author's note: this is my favorite work so far, which is why it took this long. i put my heart in here. please let me know which one is your favorite line/scene. this is also very heachan-centric, so please don't expect a lot of the reader's POV. also, may i recommend you to listen to Moon, Be There For You, Never Goodbye by NCT DREAM, Good Person by Haechan himself, and Black Clouds by NCT 127 as you read this! :) TIP ME HERE.

taglist: @mosviqu @matchahyuck @sirens-dreams @sundamariis @lovingvoidgoatee @anjaenha @thiccfullsun @665321-more @hyuckiesoftie @aliceinwhateverland @tddyhyck @anniebyanto @novawona @gimmehyuck @blxshqueen @blitz-fall @byungbyungbaek @calssunflower @funkygoose @carelessshootanonymous-blog @jungwooforever @budibbly @positionslab @beomyomom @jexizia @4everhyucks

disclaimer: names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. i do not claim to own or to have invented any copyrighted characters or concepts that i write about.

Y/N = your name, Y/C/N = your childhood nickname

Haechan’s dream has always been the spotlight.

His Mother would tell her friends stories of how he would always tell her he’d be a star someday, a grin flashing across his small face on pictures and clips of him taking a stage as small as the podium in his first grade classroom, and would proudly brag that his first-born son made it to the world stage. She was so proud that she’d have his portfolio picture as her display image in her social media accounts. As a musician herself, she’d play NCT’s music out loud and would even go an extra mile by using their b-side songs when teaching their students at their small but proud music academy in the big city of Seoul. Haechan’s pictures are all over the small place they’d rented for their small business, two floors—the vocal lessons facilitated on the second floor and piano and guitar on the ground floor—and the humble husband and wife would proudly say the most successful student they’d ever had was Lee Donghyuck, now better known as Haechan.

Haechan allows her to take credit of it all, his success, because after all, she’d been the one to encourage her to take a chance at SM Entertainment’s infamous Saturday auditions. People tell Haechan he works hard, but nobody really works harder than his Mother. With sheer determination and a passionate heart, his mother would take little Donghyuck to every stage—no matter how small. Young and bright, he remembers being dragged from one contest to another, even when their family still lived in Jeju, and he’d win all of them for her. He’d take the spotlight just to see her happy and proud.

At times, Haechan wonders how much effort his mother had really put into his career. If he thinks about it now, it started with their entire family moving out of Jeju Island, completely uprooting their entire lives from the simple life in the island to give her dream a chance. People say that Haechan was born a star, that SM got lucky to have a child prodigy offer himself—bare and whole and real—who was willing to give up his childhood and education for a shot in the dark. His father had been reluctant about it, saying that they’d have to give up their entire life savings to merely move to Seoul—considering plane tickets and security deposits need to be sent prior to moving—and that taking a loan wouldn’t be ideal when they could barely make ends meet with four children growing up too fast. A shot in the dark, a flip of a coin, the luck of a draw. They say he was meant for this, was meant for the stage and the lights and the applause, but to Haechan, it’s not really fate. It’s just his mother doing all the work, and he’d take the spotlight for her.

Because Haechan likes the attention. He likes the good and the bad. The cheers and the applause. The painful arm slaps from Mark when he’s annoyed him enough. The head pats and hugs Taeil gives him when he’s being cute and when he lives up to his maknae image. The viral videos of him all over the internet for simply walking down the stage.

And his mother couldn’t be prouder to have a reliable son like him. She had always dreamed of the spotlight herself, but the timing was never right for her—hence Haechan living her dream, her spotlight, had been one of, if not the biggest accomplishments of her life.

The night is cold. Haechan feels dizzy when flashes of the lights coming from the small window of the bar’s building hit his face. He hates the lights, he hates being seen, and it makes him throw up when, as soon as he closes his eyes, it’s his mother that he sees.

Would his mother still be so proud when she learns that, after a long weekend of a back to back concert with NCT 127, his son would be getting a blowjob from a stranger at the back of some sleazy bar he had found online?

“Please tell me this isn’t real.”

Mark Lee is only twenty-three, but with how his forehead’s skin is wrinkling, he might as well invest in several sessions of botox shots. He’s holding his phone up to Haechan’s face, as if bringing the device closer to the younger’s eyes would deny the article that Dispatch uploaded at five in the fucking morning.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Haechan denies, voice bored, tired. “We might have done other things, but I didn’t sleep with her.”

Mark lets out a groan of frustration, throwing his phone behind Haechan, the device landing on the carpeted floor. Haechan doesn’t even flinch even though it almost hit him.

“Haechan, what the fuck is going on, man?” Mark asks, demands to know what really is going on with his best friend, or whoever he’s speaking with now. “You know SM is going to kill you, right?”

Haechan shrugs. “What are they gonna do? Fire me?”

“You know they can!” Mark shouts, walking back and forth while Haechan remains seated on the couch, unbothered. “You’ve seen them do it! To our seniors! To the people you trained with. You think you’re big time, huh? That just because you’re essential in both units, they wouldn’t send you to some dungeon?”

Haechan laughs bitterly. He reckons being placed in a dungeon would be much better than the hell he’s living in now. “Now that,” he mocks. “Would be the ultimate dream.”

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” Mark says, pointing a finger to Haechan, enunciating each syllable so it goes through his skull.

But nothing can really make Lee Haechan budge anymore—not an expensive, hard device laterally thrown to his face, and not even his best friend (if he could still call him that) blatantly showing how disgusted he is with him—and he can’t really blame anyone. It used to he frightening to see Mark angry at something he did. Used to.

Haechan doesn’t really know what to say, so he chuckles bitterly and leans his head back so that it’s against the backrest, pondering whether it’s a good time to drink the bottle of vodka he’s been keeping under his bed.

“It’s funny because I don’t even know what having a nightmare feels like.”

Mark huffs, seemingly had given up on Haechan, then leaves the room alongside the small piece of sanity that the younger had left. Haechan bolts, sitting up real quick, but too slow because Mark is already out of the door. Haechan likes attention, and even though Mark Lee makes his head hurt, he likes the attention. Haechan likes that Mark is angry at him.

His manager calls him next, (as expected) voice angry as if he’s about to explode, and tells him his publicist is doing her very best to answer every god damn call from every magazine and news outlet. But none of those magazine and news outlets who have called had posted something to clear the situation; none of them were buying it. Haechan thinks it’s fucking ridiculous anyway. There were pictures and videos of him sneaking out with Hana or Hari, whatever her name was, and a clip of him zipping his pants up as they try to hide from the flashes of lights. Who the fuck would believe he was just out exploring with his 35-year old, happily-married-with-kids personal assistant?

And it’s too late, anyway, because what was the point of it all when his most loyal and long-time fan sites have all shut down overnight, his Instagram followers reducing down to five million in a matter of hours since Dispatch posted that article, and his best friends blatantly ignoring him with the exception of Mark confronting him, but of course, Haechan had to screw that up, too.

“They’re calling you in for a meeting,” his manager concludes with a sigh after elaborating what had been done to patch up the entire mess. “Be ready for whatever they have to say. Don’t expect me to have your back because I’m over it, Haechan. Whatever they decide to do with you, you fucking deserve it.”

The call ends. Haechan didn’t even get to talk.

He looks at the screen of his phone. There were a million of calls and text messages from his agency, half of it were from his mother, and the last thing he really wants now is to hear her voice. He scrolls through it all, chest tightening when he realizes nobody from Jaemin, Renjun and Jeno had tried to call him. Haechan knows he’s an asshole, deserving to be the receiving end of all the shouting and cussing, and he’s probably made the dumbest mistake of his entire life, but he’d live the stardom’s life long enough, he’d be okay. But a call from his best friends would have been a breather.

Haechan understands, what his manager said, that he shouldn’t really expect anyone to have his back after all that’s transpired in the last few of months.

You see, Haechan developed insomnia. He’d look the symptoms up in the internet, and it’s described as a common sleeping disorder that can make it hard for people to fall asleep, or if one’s attempt to drift off is successful, to stay asleep. Taeyong had said it’s a common disorder for idols, that their seniors from groups like EXO and SHINEE had all gone to psychologists for help, but Haechan didn’t really want to make a big deal out of it. He relied on what Naver offered him one morning when the sun’s already out and his eyes are still wide open.

Stress and anxiety were the major causes. Some resources say it could be from a poor sleeping environment such as an uncomfortable bed or bad lighting or temperature. One claims that it could also be from one’s lifestyle, like jetlag from traveling frequently, or drinking one too many caffeine-infused doses of fluids. It all could be factors why Haechan’s been getting 8-10 hours of sleep a week, and he acknowledges that he doesn’t really have the best lifestyle—and it’s not like he’s ever had the choice since NCT blew up.

So, he’d consulted Taeyong again, through a text, and all he’d gotten was a link to a study that insomnia can be caused by mental health conditions such as depression, followed by his therapist’s phone number.

Among all the causes he’d gathered, Haechan could confidently rule out depression because there’s no fucking way he’s sad. There’s barely any reason to be sad. Sure, he’d miss his siblings most of the time and he hates the feeling of seeing any of them cry whenever he had to leave, but nothing is more gratifying than the relief of seeing them happy whenever he comes home with luxurious gifts or plane tickets to Tokyo for a vacation. Haechan likes making people happy, and Mark tells him he’s always been a people pleaser. At times, he’d think his happiness depends on the happiness of the people he loves and values, and people around him are happy.

Hence, Haechan is happy.

Or at least, was happy.

Because the insomnia got worse—not that Haechan’s dealt with it enough to know whether it’s getting better or worse—but it was bad. He would come home exhausted as fuck after an entire day of dancing and singing, and he knows he’s tired because his body tells him so. Haechan would lie on bed, body drained from all energy, but his eyes would be wide open for an entire night. He’d only fall asleep when the sun’s started to seep through his curtains, a good hour before his manager would wake him for the next schedule. It was manageable, and the tour was a good excuse for the insomnia, but it followed him even on his days off, even in the beginning of the pandemic when there little to zero schedules that would have caused him anxiety or stress.

Therefore, reluctantly, he’d visited a doctor to get a prescription for some meds he could take to help him sleep. He’d lied, though, that it wasn’t that bad and that he would need it only on nights after shows, because he knew they’d only refer him to a therapist. Haechan doesn’t need a therapist. He could just talk to his mother about it, and she’d know what to say to make him feel better. To make him keep going.

It was fine until the melatonin supplements stopped working. Sometime last year, if he remembers right, when he thought he’d gone crazy because everything stopped working for him. There was a bottle of soju, half empty, from the fridge he had in the corner of the room he shared with Johnny, and he reckoned it could help. As soon as the bottle was empty, Haechan felt drowsy; he was out like the light half an hour later.

But just like the prescription from the doctor he can’t even remember the name of, drinking half a bottle worked. Johnny would give him suspicious looks when he would see Haechan stocking up soju inside their room, but he doesn’t ever say anything. Because alcohol made him sleep, until it didn’t. Until half a bottle stopped working. Until an entire bottle is no longer enough. Until Taeyong’s decided that there should be no alcohol inside anyone’s fridge, both fifth and tenth floors.

Hence, the drinking problem.

Haechan wonders what’s next. The sleeping problem, then the drinking problem. It looks like here is it, the next one: the scandal.

When Haechan was a trainee, his greatest fear was getting removed from the agency.

There was an assessment every quarter, and the CEO himself would sit down in a panel alongside other producers and choreographers to identify which of the trainees would move on to another level and which ones would have to go home. Each time they had to go through the assessment, Haechan, alongside other existing members of NCT, would spend long days inside the training room. He would fear that the CEO would ask him to rap all of a sudden because Haechan can’t rap to save his god damn life at that time. He would fear that his mother would receive a call and find out his beloved son, whom she spent so much money on just to get ballet classes, failed and would need to go home.

Today, Haechan fears none of those.

The decision to put him in an indefinite hiatus was quick to make, not that Haechan expected anything less.

The news was out the second they threw him out of the meeting room (but not before the CEO slapping him right across the face, his left cheek throbbing in pain he’s oddly happy he could feel) and his bags were packed before he could even tell his members. The dorms were empty when he arrived, and there was no time to visit Dream’s place; Haechan knew he could just call, or visit. His family lives twenty minutes away, a short ride from downtown. He’d figure it out, like he always would.

What fazes him is what he comes home to.

His father offers him a one-way ticket, says his mother is still too upset to look even at Haechan in the face, that she’s spending the night in her friend’s house. The domestic flight ticket is bound to Jeju Island, and it boards tomorrow morning.

“Your grandmother will be waiting for you,” his father says, eyes everywhere but Haechan’s. “Your mother thinks it would be the best for now. Your agency knows, of course, and they’re helping us ensure you get your privacy in Jeju-do. We just need you to stay there for a bit, Donghyuck. Might help.”

“Dad,” Haechan pleads, Dad sounding foreign to him now. He’s stopped calling him Dad years ago, right before he debuted in NCT, and had been calling him Father. He’s not sure why he’a suddenly calling him that now, perhaps it’s the sinking feeling in his stomach, but Haechan is desperate for another solution. “You can’t send me back in the island. I haven’t lived in grandmother’s house since I was twelve.”

“Don’t act like the place isn’t civilized, Donghyuck,” his father sighs. “You’ll be okay. You can take your expensive gaming laptop with you so you can entertain yourself while you’re on vacation. It’s only going to be a few months.”

“A few months?” Haechan cries. “I can’t live there anymore!”

“The agency decided not to terminate their contract with you,” his father reveals. “Apparently, you’re too talented to let go of. Your mother and I are very grateful they didn’t. All they want in return is for you to go back in six months—sober and full of life again. Your therapist suggests you go to a vacation.”

“I don’t have a therapist?”

“The doctor who prescribed you sleeping pills? You didn’t tell us you had insomnia.”

“Fuck you,” Haechan spits before he could even think about it. “Neither you nor mother thought of asking me what’s been going on. Dad, I wanted you to scold me. To punch me in the fucking gut and tell me I’ve ruined everything. I wanted mother to yell at me until my ear bleeds, so I can find the motivation to work hard and make her happy again.”

“Donghyuck, we–”

“Don’t call me that!” He yells. “The first thing that came to your mind was how grateful you are that I’m not fired from my job? I’m not some retirement plan! I’m your son!”

“Keep it down. Your siblings are–”

”Donghyuck-hyung?” Haechan turns. Gyeom stands at the end of the hallway, seemingly woken up from his slumber, and Dongmin hides behind the younger one to see what’s going on. Haechan doesn’t even see Seungyeon come out of her room. He just hears her door shut loudly, the lock clicking, and realize he fucked up big time.

He takes a look at the ticket from his father’s hand.

It’s ridiculous. If the melatonin pills he’s taking are not helping with his stupid insomnia, and drinking a bottle of soju works as equally as useless, what the fuck could work? They think a recreational vacation to fucking Jeju Island would do shit?

Fuck his parents, honestly.

Fuck his siblings for not even giving him a hug as soon as he entered their home.

Fuck his members for not checking up on him.

Fuck the entire god damn world.

He rips the ticket from his father’s hand and turns to leave, taking the same bags he’d brought in a few minutes ago. The flight is tomorrow morning, but Haechan calls a taxi to take him to the airport.

Sleeping (or at least, trying to) in the uncomfortable airport seats is a fucking pain in the ass, literally. But nothing more hurts than the look on his family’s face: the blankness in his father’s and the fright from his siblings.

Jeju fucking Island. Way to end the day.

When Haechan was younger, his grandmother would take him to the Camellia Hills on the weekends. While kids his age would be taken in Aqua Planet to see thousands of animals and plant species to ease their shoulders from studies, Haechan would be running around fields of camellia and hydrangea flowers. They would spend hours just walking around trees of over five hundred different kinds of wildflowers. His grandmother would take pictures of him and let him eat whatever he wanted at a nearby restaurant, and his siblings would always cry and complain why Nana only wanted to bring Haechan. There wasn’t a particular reason, of course, it was only because the younger ones were too difficult for their grandmother to look after on a trip to Camellia Hill. Little Donghyuckie was well-behaved albeit his bold and obnoxious nature. He would do whatever his Nana would ask him.

Haechan’s always claimed that he’s the favorite despite his grandmother repeatedly saying she doesn’t do favorites, and he knows deep in his heart that he is. He is, after all, the first grandchild, and he spent a lot of time with his Nana alone for many years while they were in Jeju.

His grandmother used to sing him to sleep at night. When his younger sister was born, Nana stayed with them in Seoul for a while to help his parents adjust to having two kids, considering Haechan’s age gap with Seungyeon is only a year. Nana made sure Haechan slept well every night, in a separate room from his parents because newborn Seungyeon who wouldn’t let anyone sleep past one in the morning. She’d sing him songs from The Beatles in broken English, and Haechan likes to think that even though both his parents were musicians, the reason why he could sing well was his Nana.

She eventually had to move back to Jeju Island as soon as the family had settled, but years later, at the age of seven, his grandfather died and Nana was left all alone to tend to their land and business, hence the Lee family packed their bags to stay at Nana’s supposedly for the summer, but ended up with the decision of staying for her.

Nana had problems sleeping when his grandfather died. Haechan used to find her awake when he’d need a glass of water or to go to the toilet at two in the morning. She’d be watching television, a nighttime talk show she used to like, or reading a book from his grandfather’s shelf. The lights in her home were always on.

So, Haechan started singing her to sleep just like how she did when he was a child.

She’d tell him, “Oh, my Donghyuckie, you have such a nice voice. Why don’t you sing more?”

Then she’d fall asleep while Haechan wondered why lovers die at different times, why one has to go first and the other is left on Earth trying to sleep well every night.

Upon his arrival in Jeju-do, his grandmother doesn’t pick him up from the airport like he’d expected, so he takes a taxi from the airport to her house. Haechan knows what their home looks like despite not visiting since his training days. They own a small hectare of land filled with tangerine trees, and his grandmother had been the sole operator of it all for many years until she had to start hiring people here and there to manage things for her when her age caught up with her. His father used to travel back and forth to see how things are here and there, but eventually stopped when Nana had found people she can rely on—which Haechan is very glad about.

He must be an asshole, or a prick, or a hypocrite to even say this but he’s been thinking about her more often than he calls. If he recalls right, the last time he’d called was three months ago, on her birthday, but it was two-minute exchange of generic how are yous and please stay healthys. She would call, of course, but Haechan would always have something as an excuse: a dance practice, a trip to Japan for a show, a photoshoot, something. Something to cover up the fact that he hasn’t been the best grandson to her in a long time.

He arrives and the first thing he notices is a hammock hanging in between the posts of her patio. A kick of nostalgia hits him because grandfather put up a hammock at the back of their home once, when Haechan was around five years old and they were visiting the couple for the summer. Her grandmother used to tell Haechan that the hammock is the best place to take his afternoon naps, hence little Donghyuck would spend most of his afternoons lying on a hammock made of strong nylon.

Shaking off the nostalgia, Haechan clears his throat. “Nana! I’m home!”

“Donghyuckie, is that you?” she calls from somewhere. Haechan walks over to the patio and drops his bags.

Nana comes out from the side of the house, her favorite pink apron on, grey hair hidden by a hair cap. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Haechan sees her age simply by the way she stands. Her back is hunched more than it was the last time he saw her during Chuseok last year. The wrinkles in the edges of her eyes and around her mouth are much more evident. The skin on her neck is loose, and so is the skin on her arms and everywhere.

For a second, Haechan feels like he’s seven again, seeing her for the first time since summer, her eyes not as happy as they were from the last time they’d been in Jeju-do, when grandfather was still alive. Haechan suddenly is taken back to when she’d hug him so, so tightly, crying to his shoulder, telling him harabeoji had left her while she was asleep. He remembers his heart dropping down to the ground when he saw her breaking down, his loving grandmother—who was always bright and happy, whom people would say he got his personality from—at her lowest. It’s the same wave of sadness Haechan feels looking at her now—looking at the years painted in her skin. Her memories blurring out the color of her eyes. Decades of hard work and labor tainted on the callouses on her fingers. Glints of loneliness spread throughout the wrinkles on her face.

Haechan has been all over the world for years now. Years of training and sleepless nights perfecting a performance had led him to where he is now. People who speak different languages love him and cheer for him even with countries and continents in between. He’s made millions happy by simply singing songs or saying hi in a fan call. And while he’s done of all of these, what had he done for his grandmother? People have been watching him grow up, who was watching Nana all this time?

Haechan chokes on his own tears. His grandmother, his Nana, opens her arms like Haechan is not the person the world hates right now. She hugs him like Haechan is not the person who had potentially ruined the group his best friend Mark had worked hard on. She holds him in her arms like Haechan is not the person who scared his siblings and cursed his own father. Nana takes him inside her home like he’s her Donghyuck again.

Haechan feels like he’s her Donghyuckie again.

Contrary to popular belief, Donghyuck doesn’t like affection as much as Haechan does.

He believes that being offered tenderness is the very proof that you’ve been ruined, and Haechan likes to think that with the life he has now, he’s not really in the position to talk about his life’s struggles. Because there are more people in the world who deserves to talk about their pain. Donghyuck doesn’t deserve as much.

Hence, the nostalgia goes away as quickly as it arrives. Haechan spends the rest of the day trying to sleep in his grandmother’s spare room and doesn’t even bother answering when his grandmother knocked on his door to invite him for lunch despite him being wide awake.

Haechan gets up at five in the afternoon, just when the sun is about to set, eyes heavy. The sky looks a lot like the color of his own skin, he notices, and he thinks about how beautiful the sky would be in Han River and recalls how him and Mark (and sometimes Doyoung) would lie on the ground, letting their skin soak in the sun slowly sinking down to its rest.

But none of that is close to happening because he’s here. In Jeju-do. Stuck like some twelve-year old sent to camp for an entire summer because his parents can’t stand him.

Haechan’s train of (bitter) thoughts is interrupted with a loud plonk from the wooden patio, which is right outside his window. He pulls his curtains slightly to peek, and he finds you on the floor on your side, groaning like a kid and massaging your back. It looks like you’d just fallen out of the hammock.

Curious, Haechan gets up and quickly slips out of his room to see you on their front porch.

“And Nana says it’s the most comfortable place to sleep on,” he hears you mumble as you get up, eyes meeting his as soon as you see him. Your eyes widen in shock, probably recognizing him, but you quickly catch yourself and look down.

“You are?” Haechan asks, towering over you.

You clear your throat. “Y/N.”

“I don’t mean your name, pumpkin,” he replies. “What do you do here?”

Haechan smirks at the way one of your eyebrows raised, clearly already infuriated at his attitude. You’re wearing a white shirt that’s too big for you underneath your denim overalls. The pair of boots sitting under the hammock is a clear sign that you’re a farmer tending to the tangerine trees on the land right beside the house, separated by a fence and his grandmother’s home garden.

“I manage your grandmother’s land,” you answer, stance defensive. “And it looks like you’re the delinquent grandson they sent away for the summer?”

Haechan chuckles, liking how you’re bark and bite, wondering how far he can push you, because the last thing he really wants is someone staying at his grandmother’s house. Too close. Too easy to see everything. You’d make millions selling him to the tabloids. He’d honestly rather hear people saying how much of an asshole he is, than have people invading his grandmother’s privacy while he’s here.

“You mean the world star, right?” he brags, licking his upper lip. “And you manage the land we own? Sounds a lot like a farmer to me.”

You stifle a laugh. You’re not at all intimidated. “Oh, pumpkin, I think the last thing you’d want to do in Jeju-do is insult a farmer for their job. The agricultural structure of Jeju Island has done more than you thrusting your hips up on the air for young, easily-manipulated teenage girls, Donghyuck.”

“So, you know my name?”

You click your tongue and turn around, proceeding to slip your boots back on. “How could I not know?”

“Because I’m a world star, right. How could you not know?”

Haechan watches you tie the laces up of your boots. You don’t give him another glance and leave, stomping your feet down the stairs to the ground until you’re out of his sight.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Nana says from inside. The door is wide open. “Where’s Y/N?”

She walks towards where Haechan stands, looking around for you. “That girl. I told her to stay for dinner. What’d you do, Donghyuck-ah?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles, annoyed at how Nana is more concerned about you leaving than ensuring his privacy. He’s a star, for god’s sake. “Why’d you let her sleep here, anyway? And have her stay for dinner? Aren’t you scared she might sell me off to some magazine for, I don’t know, one million won?”

“Why would Y/N sell you—“ his grandmother sighs. “Not everyone is out to get you, Donghyuck-ah.”

“Why does she even know my birth name?” he questions. “That’s like, too much, Nana. Don’t share things like that.”

His grandmother slaps his arm. “Ow! What’d you do that for?”

“You’re a moron!” she screeches. “That was Y/N! She waited for you to wake up all day!”

“That’s creepy!”

“Y/C/N,” Nana enunciates. Haechan remembers. “Her childhood nickname. Does it ring a bell?”

“Y/N—” he breathes out. Frozen. “—is Y/C/N?”

Haechan has always had an affinity with flowers, long before he named his fans sunflowers.

His grandparents had a larger flower garden as compared to how it is now. They’d planted tangerine trees in place of the fields of beautiful red azalea and rhododendron blossoms. On spring days, the cherry blossoms were infinite, and little Donghyuck used to spend a lot of time looking at the flowers and making necklaces out of them.

You used to (still do, perhaps) live down the street, and your parents used to help out in the farm when your grandparents needed another pair of hands to harvest the tangerines. Little Donghyuck met you when he was six.

If he recalls it right, it was the second day of summer, a hundred something days before they had to return back to Seoul. He found you lying under a cherry blossom tree, eyes closed, allowing hundreds of pink petals to drown you in their beauty. Little Donghyuck lied down beside you, upside-down but his head is right beside yours. He’s always been a curious kid, so he wanted to know why you were letting the pink petals rain on you. There was nothing special about it. Just petals falling when the wind blows a certain direction.

When he opened his eyes, you turn to look at him, your eyebrows were furrowed the way they were when Haechan found you on the floor of his patio earlier, right after you’d fallen from the hammock.

“Hey,” you had said. “You’re the kid from Nana’s house, right?”

“She’s my Nana,” he corrected, closing his eyes once again. “And yes, I’m the kid from Nana’s house. You are?”

“My mom calls me Y/C/N,” you answered. “Are you staying for the summer?”

He nodded. “Only for the summer. We’re leaving before school starts.”

“Do you like flowers?” you asked.

“We don’t have a lot of flowers in Seoul,” Little Donghyuck mumbled. “But I love flowers. Last summer, Nana took me to Camellia Hills to see the flowers bloom in May.”

“Then you should stay,” you trailed off. “If you love flowers and Seoul doesn’t offer much, then you should stay.”

“What about school?” Donghyuck had asked, opening his eyes to look at you. You’re looking at him, upside-down and all. Donghyuck’s never seen someone more beautiful. “You’re pretty.”

Your eyes widened. You immediately hide your face from him using your hands. “We’re only five. I can’t have a boyfriend at five years old.”

“Maybe when we’re older.”

Haechan doesn’t remember much from the day you met, but he got close to you during that summer in 2006, even more when his family moved back to Jeju-do in 2007. Your friendship blossomed from walking together in first grade throughout primary school until he’d graduated and eventually moved back to Seoul.

He can’t believe that he’d forgotten your name, and a part of him knows it’s because he’s always called you by your childhood nickname, but a larger part of him likes to think that it’s because he’s almost twenty-three now—it’s been almost ten years. He’s met probably thousands of people at this point, and with the lifestyle he has, he really can’t afford to remember each person he spends time with. Not even the girl he spent his entire childhood in Jeju-do with.

So, Haechan forgives himself before he could ask for yours. He reckons you’d understand. You know him, somehow. You kept in touch until Haechan got into SM in 2013 and high school and training got the best of him. He changed his number and lost contact with almost everyone in Jeju-do, even his closest friends, and you were one them.

Life as a singer means Haechan had to sacrifice a lot of things.

Most people know an idol sacrifices having a normal life—playing in the streets, trying out to be a part of the basketball team, dating at fifteen years old, prom, staying at one classmate’s house for a group project—and it includes forgetting the people you used to be close with.

One of the rules in SM when he was a trainee was to not get in touch with the people from their past. One of their managers used to tell them that their lives are divided into two parts: before training and after training; and to be successful in the industry means to forget who you were before training. They’d deleted all of his social media, which means he disconnected from the people he knew before he was Haechan. They’d deleted who he was before Haechan.

Many sacrifices, indeed. The list goes on, and at the end of it was your name.

“She never left Jeju-do?” Haechan asks, curious, as he ate the dinner Nana made for him. “Like not even for college?”

“She didn’t go to college at all,” Nana answers. “And she likes it here. Why do you make staying in Jeju-do sound like a living hell?”

Haechan shrugs. “It’s not like that, Nana. I mean, God knows what I’d do to get a normal life and go to college in Seoul and do what normal people in their early twenties do.”

Nana smiles at him. “This is probably what normal is for her. Not everyone has big dreams like you.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Haechan asks. “Dreams are free. It doesn’t cost anything to dream. Why wouldn’t people want to have big dreams?”

“Aren’t you the lucky one to have a dream and to be able to live your dream?” Nana says. She finishes up her meal and watches Haechan eat. “How are you, Donghyuck-ah?”

Haechan stops chewing and braces himself. Nobody’s asked him how he is. He continues chewing like it’s not a question that’s been weighing him under.

“I’m okay,” he answers, mouth full of food. “They didn’t fire me. So, I guess I should be grateful. I’m okay.”

“You know that you don’t have to lie to Nana, right?” She asks, smile kind and warm.

And Haechan wants to say it all. Out loud. Maybe even cry.

But he is not about to let his grandmother carry his burdens with her. Burdens that shouldn’t even matter because he’s so lucky to have the life he has now. Burdens that are nothing compared to other people’s.

“Come on, Donghyuck-ah,” she urges. “Talk to Nana. Tell me what’s wrong, my dear.”

“Halmeoni,” he firmly says. “I said I’m okay. I’m tired. Thank you for the meal.” He bows and stands to leave.

Life has a singer means Haechan had to sacrifice a lot, indeed.

Nana leaves a box of things Haechan would need while he’s in Jeju-do before her trusted chauffeur takes her to the town’s market for some business.

Haechan finds himself wearing the same fit as you the day before: a pair of overalls, an old, non-branded shirt that looks like it’s been worn and washed 300 times. Nana left a list of chores to do, and there’s no way Haechan is doing all of those. He’s taking a walk around the fields, supervise like how the owner’s grandson should, bask on the sunlight for a bit, then go back to his room and play some games with strangers online.

You’re waiting by the patio, sitting and looking at the opposite direction so he only sees your back, when Haechan comes out, dressed up for the role but not ready for whatever today brings him.

“Took you long enough,” you grumble as he steps out of the house. You stand and turn to look at him. “Lock the door and let’s get going. You’re late on your first day.”

“Chill out, sweet cheeks,” he scoffs, reaching behind the door and locking it before slamming it shut. “You’re not the boss of me.”

You nod, chuckling. “I’m not. But your grandmother is. And she added your list to the name of workers joining us to harvest today. You will be paid by the hour.”

Haechan gasps lightly in disbelief. “I don’t need to work. We own this place.”

“Hmm,” you hum, feigning curiosity as you tap your index finger to your chin as if you’re thinking hard. “You know I manage this whole place, right? Which means I also manage its taxes and permits annually. I’ve never seen your name in any of the papers I play with every day.”

“Same fucking thing,” he mumbles, walking past you to reach the gate. Haechan finds two horses waiting for him outside. He turns, ready to ask you what kind of joke you’re pulling on him, but he finds you going around the house, perhaps to make sure everything’s locked and all. You catch up on him, eyebrows raised when he points to the horses.

“Don’t tell me you can’t ride a horse,” you ask, seemingly in disbelief that someone like him isn’t capable of riding a horse. “You can’t work in the fields just walking. You’ll tire yourself out and will waste most of your working hours just walking.”

“I—I’m really not—” Haechan falters for a second, but comes back as quickly as he goes. “It’s been years since the last time I rode a horse. I’m not certain if I can do that now.” You give him a questioning look. “Besides. I’m a celebrity if you haven’t noticed it already. What if I break a bone?”

“You’ll live.”

“What if I fall and break my face?”

“Seoul has the best plastic surgeons.”

“My legs! They were injured before. I can’t afford to get another injury!”

“You’ll be fine. You’re such a drama queen.”

“I’m a star!”

At that, you burst out into a fit of laughter, the kind that Haechan would normally join in, because what he just said is truly ridiculous. He can’t believe he said that himself. But, of course, he can’t just laugh with, basically, a stranger.

“Oh my God, Lee Donghyuck,” you say in between laughter.

Something ignites something in him, the way you just said his name.

Haechan is a name he loves, an alter-ego he adores, a character he lives. Full sun, because that’s what he wants to be. He wants to bring light to everyone looking up to him, and he wants to be remembered by the way his voice warms the entire planet. He loves hearing cheers and applause when he introduces himself as Haechan. Because Haechan is talented. Haechan is an ace, an all-rounder who can do anything an idol is expected to do, perhaps even more. Haechan is bright and positive, and he likes making people laugh and at the same time uncomfortable of the influx of skinship he offers. Haechan loves the lights and cameras on stage, and he adores the way his name is in every city he goes to.

Meanwhile, Lee Donghyuck, he’s heard in a million times. Mark still calls him Donghyuck like they never aged since 2013, even Doyoung and Jeno. His parents seldom call him Haechan, never for Nana. His fans also have been calling him Donghyuck since they learned his birth name is Donghyuck, sometimes Hyuck or Hyuckie, which he finds really endearing.

Yet no one’s ever called him his name like he’s nothing but just Lee Donghyuck. Not for a long time. Not from someone before Haechan.

Donghyuck suddenly feels like he’s twelve again, the year he left Jeju-do and had to say goodbye to all of his friends with a promise to keep in touch and to never forget. Donghyuck finds himself looking at the way you’re laughing, how you have your eyes closed, mouth agape and melodies of your amusement coming out like a song he thought he’d forgotten but know all the words to, and he finds himself thinking, maybe being Lee Donghyuck isn’t so bad.

His first day at the farm didn’t go as quick as expected and if Donghyuck could say so himself, it’s the longest fucking day in his entire life.

Evidently, he couldn’t ride a horse to save his life. He doesn’t even know why he’d told you it’s been a long time when the only time he ever rode a horse was when he was eleven for a field trip and only to take a god damn picture to make his mother smile. You and him were only a couple of horse steps or whatever away from Nana’s home and his horse was already squirming and more like threatening to throw him ten meters away, hence, you begrudgingly offered to have him ride with you. Donghyuck didn’t decline, of course, because it was either walk around the place under the hot sun or die at the hands of a stupid horse. You had let him sit behind you, skillfully and impressively holding the other horse by its rope, Donghyuck’s arms reluctantly wrapped around your waist because he didn’t want to fall, and if you were uncomfortable, you didn’t say anything about it.

You had taken him to a tour within his grandparents’ land, and Donghyuck is already twenty-three when he realized his grandparents are big time, like for real. The land isn’t as big as the others, ones that are owned by a big corporation, people who aren’t even from Jeju-do but like to play agricultural monopoly, but it’s bigger than most. Nana was too humbled when she’d told him the night before that he would need to help out in their “small” business.

The business is nowhere near small, with hundreds of tangerine trees scattered around, blooming in the famous Jeju-do delicacy, and she had forty to fifty employees working for her.

“Not really like full-time employees,” you had explained when Donghyuck verbalized his surprise with the number of people working for the farm. “Normally, it’s just me and Nana and a few other people who handle the delivery, quality assurance, and sales in the farmer’s market, which I’d need to take you to tomorrow, and also some folks from Seoul who handle the cargo shipping to the cities. But when it’s harvest season, we really would need more than ten pairs of hands to help out.”

“So, like, all year, there’s only around ten people are here,” Donghyuck confirmed, hands still on your waist as the horse came to a stop. “And on harvest season, Nana hires more people to help out. That’s really nice. Could be a good summer job for students and all.”

You hummed in agreement, patting the horse that Donghyuck learned you named as Daisy. “But normally, you’d find older people working here instead of the younger ones.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck’s curious. “That’s a little odd. I mean, isn’t the job physically tiring?”

You shrugged. “The elderly, well, they don’t really have a lot of opportunities to work here, you know, considering that Jeju-do has become more of like a tourist island than a self-sufficient, thriving agricultural place. You’ve probably heard of the water park they’d built nearby the airport and other big corporations taking over and building their stores here and there. And of course, they’d most likely hire younger people who can relate to the Korean Wave your group caused, right?”

“Keeping tabs?”

You scoffed at that. “As if! Now, get down before I ask Daisy to wiggle her ass and throw you off.”

After the supposed short tour that took an hour because, well, their land is enormous, you take him where some of the elderly people are harvesting.

“This is Donghyuck,” you’d introduced. “Nana’s grandson from Seoul. He’ll be helping us today. So, halmeoni, don’t even think about getting him off the hook because he’s Nana’s grandson. He will be paid for the day like everyone else. You wouldn’t want someone to get paid the same, only to work half of what you do, right?”

The older women laughed at the way you’d introduced him, and he feels his heart swell with the way you’re laughing with them and how they looked at him with so much tenderness. And normally, Donghyuck doesn’t like the look of tenderness, especially when directed to him, but today, it felt warm. Warmth like never before.

“You grew up so handsome, Donghyuck-ah,” one of the women said. “But I thought you’d be taller, you know. You had such long limbs when you were younger.”

Donghyuck feigned offense, clutching his chest. “Ahjumma, you should’ve stopped at the word handsome.”

“Tangerines ripen earlier than other citruses, so they can escape damage from freezes that will harm midseason varieties such as grapefruit and sweet oranges. Most varieties will be ready for picking during the winter and early spring, although the exact tangerine harvest time depends on the cultivar and region,” you explain, following the lead while Donghyuck and two other guys around yours and his age trail behind you. He apparently needs some training before he can start working.

“How do we know if they’re ready to be picked?” Joohyuk, one of the part-timers, ask.

You will know it’s about harvest time for tangerines when the fruit is a good shade of orange and begins to soften a bit. This is your chance to do a taste test,” you answer, stopping to show an abundant tangerine tree. You pick one out and show it to Donghyuck and the rest. “Cut the fruit from the tree at the stem with hand pruners. If after your taste test the fruit has reached its ideal juicy sweetness, proceed to snip other fruit from the tree with the hand pruners.”

You proceed to show them how it’s cut and hand them a piece each. Donghyuck likes that the fruit is sweet, not sour.

The ahjummas find your group and start handing baskets to Donghyuck and the guys, telling them they’d guide them all throughout.

He found himself spending the rest of the morning getting to know the people harvesting tangerines and making them laugh like it’s his job. He learned all their names one by one, their families briefly, and what they used to do before they retired. By the time it’s lunch, Donghyuck was about to say goodbye and perhaps ask you to take him back to his house, the group from the other side of the farm joined their area, all packed with bags of lunch.

They asked him to join, of course, but Donghyuck refused, in respect of their time to relax and take a break, and asked if you could take him home instead. You agreed, of course, mumbling that you would also need to go home to feed your dog.

“I’ll pick you up at 1:15,” you say as soon as Donghyuck lands on his feet. “Don’t sleep, please. The ahjummas will be expecting you. It’ll be a lot hotter, so drench your celebrity skin with twice the amount of sunscreen you’d normally use.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck responds, itching to say thank you, but not enough to actually say it. He rubs Daisy’s neck instead. “You—I, okay.”

“O-kay,” you nod and whistle to signal Daisy to turn and walk the other way.

Nana waits for him by the patio. “How was your first day?”

“It’s not even over yet,” he sighs, slumping his butt on one of the patio’s stairs. “Nana, I can’t believe you’re making me work while I’m on vacation.”

“Your father never said anything about a vacation,” she responds, smiling as she struggles to sit beside him. Donghyuck helps her. “You’re here for some time away from work, right?”

“Yeah, a vacation,” he emphasizes.

Nana reaches to move the fringe covering a part of his eyes. “Let’s call this your healing time. But I wouldn’t call it a vacation because a vacation for you only means playing computer games until the sun rises then sleeping all day.”

“You should stop talking to Seungyeon about me,” he mumbles, looking sideways to find his grandmother looking at him lovingly. “And I don’t only play computer games. I also listen to a lot of music.”

“Try not to think about the limelight while you’re here,” she says. “The farm needs some help now. And it’s the best time for you to learn about the family business in case you don’t make it back in Seoul.” Donghyuck groans, burying his face in his hands, and Nana laughs at him. “That’s a possibility you should be considering, Donghyuck-ah.”

“Nana, you’re making me feel worse,” he whines. “You just told me not to think about the limelight, how can I not when you just said what you said!”

“I’m only joking,” she admits. “No one is ever going to take the limelight away from you, Donghyuck-ah, even if they try. You were born for the stage, and I know it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Donghyuck looks up at her. “Is it bad that it’s all I want?”

Nana shakes her head and offers a kind smile. “Having a dream like yours is never bad, Donghyuck-ah. I know that eventually you’d have to leave and go back to where you really belong: the limelight. But all I’m saying is, stepping out of the light isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

“Right.”

“Tell me how it was in the farm.”

“The ladies love me,” he chuckles. “I’m quite popular even in the small villages of Jeju-do, aren’t I?”

“You sure are,” she agrees. “They’ve been asking about you for a long time. Looks like your Nana isn’t the only one who missed you.”

“How come they still remember me?” he asks before he can think about it. “I mean, I’m sorry, but I’ve forgotten about most people here. They still remember how I used to play around and sing for small events.”

It’s true. It caught him by surprise that the workers still remembered him—and not only because he’s a celebrity now, but they remember him by the small, insignificant happenstances when he was younger. Like for example, one of them mentioned how he was once was injured, his pinky finger to be exact, because he was running like a madman when his mother had given him permission to go play computer games with his cousin. He doesn’t remember that person being there, but he knows his grandmother talked about it like it was a news about a hurricane hitting Seoul at that time it happened.

It makes Donghyuck wonder how many people remember him, and how many people he’d forgotten and left behind for his dreams.

“Our world here in Jeju-do is small,” Nana explains. “People like you, who left, well, while ours remain humble and small, while we fade into the background and slowly become insignificant, yours become bigger. So, while we remember, you forget, slowly, one by one—and nobody blames you for forgetting, Donghyuck-ah.”

Oh, look. Another burden, another truth that Donghyuck has to carry for the rest of his life. Another reason not to fall asleep tonight.

There is a small, local store located down the road from his grandmother’s house. They don’t sell nearly half the number the ones local convenience stores in Seoul would, but Donghyuck likes to think it’ll do. Soju and beer taste the same anyway, regardless of where he buys it.

With the faint, beaten yellow paint from its exterior, the store has been around even before Donghyuck was born. It’s the village’s very own convenience store, after all. There weren’t any rival stores like how it would look like in Seoul where every corner of every street one would find a convenience store. From where Donghyuck stands, the store doesn’t like look like it’s changed much in a decade.

For some reason, Donghyuck remembers how much Renjun likes reading neuroscience studies for fun. He doesn’t know anyone else who would read neuroscience studies. For fun. But anyway, back to his point, there was a neuroscience study that Renjun has been blabbing about during their US tour. It was something about when someone recalls an old memory, a representation of the entire event is instantaneously reactivated in the brain that often includes the people, location, smells, music, and other trivia. Recalling old memories can have a cinematic quality. Memories often seem to play out in the mind's eye like an old Super 8 home movie or vintage Technicolor film. Neuroscientists discovered that when someone tries to remember a singular aspect of an event from his or her past—such as a recent birthday party—that a complete representation of the entire scene is reactivated in the brain like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together to create a vivid recollection. The new research reveals that humans remember life events using individual threads, that are coupled together into a tapestry of associations.

Donghyuck’s never really understood what Renjun meant at that time, except now.

He stands there, a good ten-meter distance from where you’re sitting. The pavement on the sidewalk isn’t the most comfortable place to sit in, but Donghyuck thinks it might just be, with how comfortable and at peace you look: legs stretched out to the street, headphones covering your ears, a book (or a journal perhaps, Donghyuck can’t see well from here) in one of your hands while the other is twirling a pen.

The scene takes him back to ten years ago, in the exact same place where you’re sitting, and if Donghyuck thinks about it now, it seems like nothing’s really change—except he’s almost twenty-three now, and despite him standing a few meters away from you, it feels like you and him are worlds away. And from what it looks like, you still love writing as much as Donghyuck loves singing.

It was a warm evening in May 2013, a couple of weeks before school ended and summer would officially start, counting down the nights when Donghyuck would have to move back to Seoul, and it was way too hot for Donghyuck’s liking. Nana didn’t have an air-conditioning system yet; his father was working hard to get her one before they leave for Seoul because summers can be crazy hot in Jeju-do. And Donghyuck needed a popsicle so bad, otherwise, he’d probably explode.

He found you the same place where you are now. Donghyuck thought your SHINEE shirt looked cute because while girls your age liked the newly debuted EXO, you still listened to SHINEE like a religion. You were sitting with your legs sprawled on the street, right under the streetlight, a pen in one hand and your old, beaten up journal on the other. Your eyebrows were furrowed, and Donghyuck caught himself before he could start thinking about how pretty you looked like that: focused and doing what you loved.

Donghyuck decided not to disrupt your focus and opted to go straight inside the small store, spending the last of his money on yours and his favorite: lime and cherry twin popsicle—the kind that’s packaged in one, two flavors in one, lime green and cherry red colors separated in the middle between popsicle sticks. Lime for you, cherry for him. You didn’t look up when he sat beside you, but took the lime-flavored popsicle from his hand when he handed it to you after peeling off the plastic cover and breaking it into two.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the ice-cold treat in your mouth. Donghyuck couldn’t help but think his cherry-flavored popsicle resembled the color of your lips.

Donghyuck nodded his thoughts away, leaning in to peak at the page you’re working on. “What are you working on?” he asked it while the popsicle rested on one side of his mouth, his left cheek protruding.

You shrugged, taking the popsicle off your mouth, showing your work to him. Donghyuck found it endearing that you write all over the pages of your journals, it was as though he could see your train of thoughts: some smudged, some erased under ink but not really because he could still read through it, some clear as day, some to never see daylight again.

“I was in Science class today,” you started.

“We’re in the same homeroom, dumbass. I was there.”

“I’m talking,” you whined. “And I doubt you were even listening. You hate Science more than anything.”

“Fair point,” he hummed. “Okay, what about Science class? Please don’t tell me you’ll start writing about Science. Because I’m so sorry. I’ll never read any of your work ever again if you decide to do that.”

You laughed, the melody of your fondness of his jokes creating its own room inside the crevices of Donghyuck’s brain. “Teacher Kim was talking about symbiosis.”

“I’m not even going to pretend I know what that means.”

“Symbiosis is a term describing any relationship or interaction between two dissimilar organisms. The specific kind of symbiosis depends on whether either or both organisms benefit from the relationship,” you continued. “Butterflies and flowers, they are the best examples of symbiosis.”

Donghyuck nodded, savoring the sweetness of his cherry-flavored treat.

“Hence I did some research and read more about butterflies and flowers, and I read something a little sad,” you trailed off. “I learned that certain flowers bloom when butterflies hatch and depends on how they match each other. Butterflies, they prefer light-colored flowers they can perch on. So, when the timing is off, the flower misses the butterfly. The butterfly, therefore, finds another flower.”

“Then what happens to the flower?” Donghyuck asked, watching as you try to catch the melting piece off your popsicle, taking it back to your mouth. Your lips looked really pretty. “If it misses all the timing?”

“Well,” you shrugged, looking up to the night sky. The stars in Jeju-do that night were much prettier than it is in Seoul. “They bloom again next year, and hope that maybe next time, the timing is better. That the butterfly arrives just in time for the flowers to bloom.

“That is a little sad,” Donghyuck acknowledged. He watched you look back down, grimacing a little as you take the popsicle off your mouth. “Wanna try mine?” he asked before he could think about it.

You looked back at him. The stars in Jeju-do turned out to be nothing compared to your eyes. “Yeah?”

Donghyuck pulled the sweet treat from his mouth just as you hand him your lime-flavored one. He took it in his mouth, and Donghyuck had never been the biggest fan of anything sour, but for some reason, the lime flavor tasted sweeter than ever. You took his cherry-flavored ones, groaning in delight as you taste the treat’s sweetness.

“Cherry has always been my favorite,” you’d confessed, and Donghyuck was surprised because you’d always gotten the lime-flavored ones. The twin pops were your thing since you met summer of 2006—it was cheap, practical for two kids, two-in-one; you’d always choose the lime ones. “God, this is good.”

“You literally always take the lime ones,” he argued. “My whole life has been a lie. I’ve always thought lime was your favorite because you always take it whenever we get this!”

You shrugged. “You never liked anything sour,” you said like it’s the easiest thing to say, like it didn’t make Donghyuck’s heart somersault. “And I can take a little bit of sourness if it means you enjoy your cherry-flavored popsicle.”

Donghyuck was only twelve. He didn’t know anything about falling in love, but that night might just be the closest thing.

“So, you drink alcohol to help you fall asleep?” you ask as if it’s the most interesting solution to insomnia. Donghyuck thinks it isn’t; he’s read somewhere online that alcohol really helps. “That’s stupid.”

Donghyuck shrugs. “It’s not really working great right now. But it helps.”

He sits beside you on the sidewalk, legs sprawled out just like yours, a can of cold beer one hand while the other holds him up, flat on the rough pavement. There’s no particular reason why Donghyuck’s talking to you now. You and him got off the wrong foot, and it’s not like you can really blame Donghyuck for seeing a (supposed) stranger sleeping at his grandmother’s patio. And you were friends. Even though it’s been years, Donghyuck reckons talking to you would do no harm. Besides, if he’s staying here for a few months, a companion would probably make it less miserable.

“And your father thinks coming to Jeju-do would help, too?” you ask.

Donghyuck chuckles. “I guess you could say that. What else have you heard about me?”

You look at him, away from the street and right into his eyes. Donghyuck wonders why he didn’t recognize you the first time he saw you. Your face looks the same from the day he bid you goodbye a decade ago—lips colored in cherry, eyes bright as the stars, cheeks soft all over.

“A lot,” you answer. “But I’ve never been one to believe in rumors anyway.”

Donghyuck licks his lips. “The rumors are true.”

“Not about the sleeping around and getting drunk, pabo,” you mutter. “That, I believe.”

“Which ones?” he asks.

“People are saying you no longer like being on stage,” you say. It’s not the first time Donghyuck’s heard it. “That you’ve been burnt out from working all these years. And that you don’t care about music anymore.”

Donghyuck snickers. “That’s true, too.” He throws his head back, chugging on the cold beer. “I’m so over it. I don’t even care what happens after this.”

“Oh, Donghyuckie,” you whisper softly, eyes still glued to his face. “What has the limelight done to you?”

Donghyuck only shrugs, finishing off the rest of the cold beer, helping himself up and taking the plastic bag full of iced cold beer from the store.

“I don’t think that’s something you should be worried about,” Donghyuck says. You keep your eyes on him, so you’re looking up from where you’re seated and Donghyuck looks down on you. “It’s getting late. Wanna go drink at Nana’s?”

“Nana would kill you if she finds alcohol inside her house,” you say.

“I’ve snuck in about twenty bottles since I arrived last week and she hasn’t noticed,” he confesses.

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” you laugh.

Donghyuck freezes for a moment, watching you stand in between giggles. Mark said the same think a couple of weeks ago, but it doesn’t sting when you say it. You say it in laughter. Like it’s okay. Like it doesn’t scare you.

“My house is down the street,” you say, helping yourself up and standing in front of him. Donghyuck remembers. “I’ll call Nana and let her know you’re with me.”

A bark startles Donghyuck for a second. You and him turn to find a golden Labrador running towards where you stand.

“Aw, my baby’s here to pick me up,” you announce with the softest voice. The lab runs, almost dashes towards you, and Donghyuck is taken aback when it tackles him—not you—knocking the plastic bag off his hands and resulting to him landing his butt back to the pavement. “Pororo!” you shriek, not in surprise but with a tone of betrayal. “I’m your mother!”

Donghyuck hears you shriek, but laughs through it because the golden lab is hogging him, licking him all over as if he’d miss him all these years. “Oh, baby, you’re so cute,” he coos, cradling the dog by its face, looking up at you as the dog licks his face. “This is yours?”

You fight back a smile, but you lose immediately because your face breaks with a grin. “What has the limelight done to you?” you ask, the same question from earlier, but a different tone—teasing, nostalgic, like years ago.

The dog sniffs him all over and you stand there watching them.

“Can’t even recognize your own dog now?” you tease, walking so you could pet the dog and have him follow you. “It’s the puppy Nana got you a month before you left Seoul. You couldn’t bring him with you, and Nana couldn’t take care of him when you left, so I adopted him, pabo.”

“Pororo?” Donghyuck finally, finally recognizes. Pororo looks like he’s nodding, like saying thank God, you remembered me! The dog goes back to tackle him. “Oh, Pororo! My baby!”

You lead the way to your house, Pororo following after you. He watches you take several steps ahead of him. He feels dizzy watching the scene in front of him. Donghyuck understands what Renjun is talking about now.

Humans remember a singular aspect of an event from his or her past that a complete representation of the entire scene is reactivated in the brain like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together to create a vivid recollection. You’re the representation of his entire life in Jeju-do, a clear image before Haechan, and he’s fucking sorry he forgot about you all these years.

But that’s an apology you’d never hear from him. Instead, he watches you, taking a small step towards you, and decides he’ll allow his unsaid apology to be added on the long list of reasons why he can’t sleep at night.

Nostalgia comes in waves, they say, but why do you bring it to him like a hurricane?

Donghyuck could say that Nana is impressed with the drastic change of character in the span of six weeks.

She’s been treating him better these days; by “better”, Donghyuck means she’s been cutting off a few hours from work so he could spend more time at her home, guarding the hens and roosters that serve at her alarm clock and watering her plants from her small vegetable garden. She’s also been paying him, giving him a small envelope with cash and a small paper that resembled a payslip showing the number of hours he’d work for the week, and Donghyuck ignores the quick jump from his heart when he sees your signature at the end of it, affirming that the hours listed are accurate. Donghyuck takes the money, of course, after Nana threatened to beat him up because she’d be breaking Korea’s labor laws if he doesn’t accept it, and he keeps it all in a small box in his room, planning to show it to his members when he goes back to Seoul and brag about working like a normal civilian at the age of 23.

There is a pinch in his heart when he remembers his members. While Donghyuck has been working on (and failing to) sober up for an entire month, his members have not called nor texted him. He’d been reaching out, of course. Some of his members have been assigned solo projects and activities in the last month, and he ensures to congratulate them. All he’s gotten so far are the receipts that his messages have been read.

Donghyuck convinces himself that it’s probably SM that advised everyone not to give him a time of their day, that they probably think being away from work means disconnecting from everyone, too, that his members love him and also believe that he needs some time off from everything.

But the convincing can only do much. The convincing distracts him while he’s at work, or while he’s watering Nana’s plants, but it doesn’t do much at night. Still, after six weeks, Donghyuck is nowhere near clean.

He wakes up with a terrible headache every day (from lack of sleep or hangover, he’s not really certain), and his Nana has been oddly making hangover soup for breakfast. Donghyuck wonders whether you’d ratted him out or his mother had called her about it. Either way, she probably knows something’s up.

His mother had called him a few times now, Seungyeon, too, and it’s been casual. His mother’s voice always sounded like she’s walking on eggshells whenever she’d call, blurting a half-assed apology for not seeing him before he left and telling him she’d forgiven him and that she’s looking forward to seeing her in a few months. Seungyeon talks to him the most, almost every day, in short text messages and 10-minute calls on the weekends when she doesn’t have to worry about waking up early the next day. And she talks to him about the most random thing, nothing ever related to his obsession with drinking or the scandal, which makes Donghyuck feel better somehow.

Six weeks didn’t make much of a difference, not that Donghyuck was expecting any. The only thing that’s changed so far is that, he’s not as exhausted as he was in Seoul despite his shitty sleeping schedule continuously fucking up his already deteriorated mental health. He hasn’t been listening to songs for quite a while, and he’s been drinking every night. And if it means anything to him, you’ve been hanging out with him while he drinks.

In six weeks, he learns that you’re not much of a drinker. You don’t have many friends that you could really invite for a drink in a nearby pub or in a samgyeopsal restaurant. You’d mentioned that most people your age have all moved on to different places, spewing names that were once familiar to Donghyuck and telling him where they are now. Donghyuck is yet to learn why you had stayed in Jeju-do, not once stepping in Seoul, when the world off this island’s shores are much, much bigger than you think.

It’s two in the morning. You’d taken him home because he could barely keep his head up with the number of soju bottles he had downed, and he appreciates that you try to stay quiet when you put him to bed and leave, keeping the blinds closed because he’d told you once that the morning sunlight seeping through spaces between the curtains hurt his eyes. You’d left when Donghyuck’s barely awake.

His phone dings a notification. Donghyuck probably won’t remember so he reaches over, checking it and recognizing his mother’s name.

She sends him an article about the upcoming debut of NCT DoJaeJung, and Donghyuck’s seen it in the groupchat for some time now. Donghyuck isn’t even halfway down the article when she sends another one: Mark’s solo song.

She doesn’t add another message, and he sees her status change from online to offline in a split second, but she doesn’t really have to say anything else for him to understand.

Donghyuck’s dream has always been the spotlight.

Or at least, as he recognizes now, his mother’s dream for him has always been the spotlight.

Donghyuck always thought he loved making people happy and singing equally.

While people called him kind and a ray of sunshine, Mark’s always called him out for being a people-pleaser, reminding him that he doesn’t have to make sure everyone is happy with the choices he’d make, telling him he doesn’t have to feel the strong urge to please everyone. And Donghyuck never understood it until now, now that he’s wide awake and looking at his mother’s messages. She’s probably expecting a solo project for him, too, and she sends these things that make her happy, and she’s already expecting him he’d do it no matter what. Donghyuck’s mother is a good person; he’d look up at her and think to himself that when he grows up, he’d want to be as supportive as his mother, and don’t get him wrong when he says she expects him to do anything that’d make her happy. Because this is all Donghyuck’s fault, anyway.

With his desire to make her the happiest, he’s done everything he could to make her happy, even at his own expense.

The infamous Saturday audition at SM was something Donghyuck never thought about—not at the age of 13 when he had just gotten back in Seoul after five years of staying in Jeju-do. His accent has changed and he reckons he could have a good relationship with boys his age who grew up in the city. And as much as he loved performing, Donghyuck doesn’t like being criticized. He doesn’t like rejection, and he can’t bare the thought of adults telling him he couldn’t sing.

Hence, his initial answer to his mother’s proposal to visit SM Entertainment and give it a try was no. The only thing that had made him go, knees shaking and palms sweaty, was his mother’s words: “It’ll truly make me happy if you give it a try.”

She’d said it in many occasions, and Donghyuck’s given everything that’d make her happy a try. She’d never said a bad thing and even told him a few times that it’s okay if he doesn’t want to, but he does it anyway.

Donghyuck was afraid that she’d love him less if he didn’t make her happy. He was only thirteen, and his twenty-three now, and his biggest fear hasn’t changed: to be loved less because he didn’t make them happy enough.

So, Haechan blurts out the most random jokes when the cameras are on and initiates skinship with the member even if they abhor him for it and style his hair a different way, because it makes the fans happy. Haechan stays up learning the tune of the new song and recording himself in his phone for hours even after an entire day of physical activities, because it makes the producers happy. Haechan takes his friends and the younger members to dinner after a 16-hour flight from the west on the night of his birthday—his eyes barely open the entire time—because it makes them happy. Haechan plays the maknae role perfectly, even when at times he’s tired of it, because it makes the older members happy. Haechan continues to be a sunny and bright character even on days when he’s exhausted, because it makes his managers happy.

But the truth is, Donghyuck doesn’t like dyeing his hair. His hair’s gotten so unhealthy from dyeing it different colors last year.

Donghyuck feels awful sometimes, when his friends do not return his affection, but he plays it off, feigning hurt even when it actually does.

Donghyuck wants to sleep after a 16-hour flight.

Donghyuck wants to drink with his hyungs, too.

Donghyuck just wants to sing and write songs when he’s learned enough.

Donghyuck doesn’t want to be like Mark, or Doyoung, or anyone else.

Donghyuck wants Haechan to be… Donghyuck.

Donghyuck wants to be happy—in his own terms, by his own choices.

But how can he be happy when he’s always depended his happiness on the people he loves?

Donghyuck feels like a dead man walking.

You and Donghyuck are tasked to bring the harvested fruits at the farmer’s market in the early hours of Sunday.

It’s barely five in the morning, and the sun’s not even out yet, but you had forced him to sleep early the night before to make sure he’d accompany you to the market. (He didn’t sleep though; he lied awake until his phone rang and you’re calling from outside.) You’d driven the farm’s truck to get here, and Donghyuck can’t help but admire the way you hold the steering wheel with one hand.

Donghyuck helps you carry the boxes out of the truck, arranging them in front of his grandmother’s store. You had walked in while he carries the rest inside and Donghyuck hears you talk to Eunseuk, his Nana’s sales person who handles and manages their place in the public market.

“That’s awful,” Donghyuck hears you say as soon as he places the last of the boxes in a corner. “Can’t the mayor do anything about it?

Eunseuk sighs, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, it looks like the donation project Nana’s driven wasn’t enough. She barely made enough profit last quarter because she’d donated most of it to the project.”

“What is awful and what project are we talking about?” Donghyuck interrupts.

Eunseuk smiles sadly at him. “The clinic that Nana’s been proposing to the mayor for years now. The town’s mayor thinks it’s not going to be built this year.” Donghyuck’s never heard of it.

“The community has a lot of elderly people who live alone in Jeju-do,” you explain when you notice his curiosity. “Especially in here in the island, even more here in our town. Most people leave Jeju-do at the age of eighteen to find a better life in Seoul, which is ridiculous because there’s no place better than Jeju-do, and Nana thought it’d be great if she built a small clinic for the elderly nearby, that way they wouldn’t have to travel fifty kilometers to visit the nearest hospital. It’d be great if the elderly can have themselves checked for free and to have, if not all, most equipment they’d need.”

“How is that possible?” Donghyuck asks.

“Well,” Eunseuk starts. “First, we need the funds to actually build the clinic itself. Nana is halfway through the amount needed. The mayor’s children are doctors, and if he wants to keep winning the next elections, I’m sure he’d be happy to have them volunteer.”

“What about maintenance?” he asks.

“Good question,” you say. “And good thinking. I like it, you’re already thinking ahead, Donghyuck-ah. Anyway, the elderly is very much willing to do community service in exchange of the maintenance of the small clinic. And don’t worry, it’s not like Nana’s going to make them work like horses.”

“Services like crocheting products for the local market,” Eunseuk adds. “Food manufacturing—the kind that would allow them to make while sitting down, local farming, jewelry-making, and the like. Things we can sell in the market. You know how tourists are so keen on buying anything hand-made.”

“So, a clinic for the elderly built and maintained by the elderly?” Donghyuck sums up.

“Exactly!”

“How much are we looking at in terms of money?” He asks.

You chuckle. “If you’re grandmother wanted to ask money from you, she would have already. She has some kind of pride, you know.”

“Well, I’ll give it you and you tell her it’s an anonymous donation.”

“As if she’d believe that bullshit,” you answer. “Anyway, Eunseuk-eonnie, what do we do now?”

The older woman shrugs. “We’ll keep selling tangerines until we reach the goal, I guess.”

Donghyuck talks before he could think about it. “I can do something.”

You and Eunseuk look at him like you’d just seen a ghost.

“I don’t know what I can offer,” he says right away. “But I’ll… I think I can do something.”

“Donghyuck,” you say. “You can sing.”

“I am aware,” he jokes.

“No, you can sing,” you repeat. Donghyuck looks back at you. “You can sing, so I’m sure you can teach people how to sing.”

“And?” He doesn’t get it.

“It’s summer,” you answer. “Most kids are bored and are probably looking for something meaningful to do while they wait for school to start again. Teach kids how to sing and have their parents pay for it!”

Donghyuck thinks it’s a good idea. “And you can write.”

You freeze. “No.”

“Teach kids how to write and have their parents pay for it.”

“Over my dead body!”

“I will do it only if you do it.”

Eunseuk laughs, “Oh, this is good.”

“No, Donghyuck. I’m not a professional writer. I didn’t even go to college. I don’t have the credentials for it.”

“You don’t have to go college to be a writer,” he snorts. “Scott Fitzgerald didn’t even finish college.”

“Where’d you even learn that?”

“You told me when we were kids!” he answers, laughing. “Come on, Y/N. I’m sure Nana can find someone to do your job in the farm while we teach kids.”

“I don’t know, Donghyuck,” you sigh.

Eunseuk lightly slaps your arm. “Come on, young lady. Do it for the elderly.”

“Yeah, Y/N, do it for the elderly.”

The sparkle in your eyes and the smile on your lips tell Donghyuck you agree.

And so, the plan goes accordingly.

Donghyuck could say that Nana is more than delighted to learn that his delinquent and embarrassing grandson, who’s spent all this time pretending he doesn’t care, had decided to help out. You’d done the most part, of course— obtaining the permit from the mayor’s office and settling all the paperwork needed. All Donghyuck had to do was to help clean up and renovate his grandfather’s old office in the farm. Everyone else who had some free time helped because apparently, that’s what this community does. Donghyuck could probably get used to receiving help without him asking for it.

So, in more or less five days, his grandfather’s old office, which is about forty square meters, had turned into the community’s summer class headquarters. You and Donghyuck decided to call it Nana’s Music and Literature Classes. And with the help of Eunseuk and some of the workers, the word spread like news from the radio. In a week’s time, you and Donghyuck have over twenty student each. Mondays and Wednesdays were his schedule; yours were Tuesdays and Thursdays. Fridays were called Hyuckie and Y/C/N’s day—which means you and him would dedicate an entire day brainstorming and talking about your class’ progress.

The summer courses would take eight weeks to complete, and at the end of it would be a competition, in which the Mayor promised he’d give a very big reward for. Those who enrolled in Donghyuck’s classes would have a recital at the end of summer where the kids will hold a small concert for the town—tickets to be sold as part of the drive, of course—and the judges will be identified to select three winners. As for your classes, it will be a short story competition, and the winners will be announced on the night of the small concert, which Donghyuck is the best ending any summer could have.

The place is cramped, and Donghyuck’s never been more excited his entire life.

He’s gone to many places and met with many prominent people in this lifetime. But he’s decided that this is the most exhilarating day of his life.

The parents leave as soon as Donghyuck assures them that the kids will be safe and will be all set for pick up by 3 in the afternoon. You’re talking to the kids while he ensures that the room is cool enough for everybody. The room is filled with excitement that Donghyuck could feel inside him. He learned from the parents he’d met just a few minutes ago that the town doesn’t really offer things like this for children and that they’d have to send their kids to summer camp in the mainland if they wanted them to experience this, and the fact that you and him are doing this for a cause makes it even better.

Donghyuck views this like it’s not as big as the drives NCT had been doing, or the charity concerts he takes part in, or the money he donates to various causes, but to the people of the town, it’s bigger than anything they had ever known.

“Aigoo,” one of the parents cooed when she’d seen Donghyuck greet everybody outside. “Your grandparents have always been kind. They’d been the pillar of this small town for quite some time now. I’m glad you’re growing up a good man.”

You’d smiled at him when you heard that, and Donghyuck wonders if you also think he’s growing up a good man, because he thinks you grew up to be such an amazing, compassionate person.

“Hello, kids!” Donghyuck greets. Everybody says it back with the same enthusiasm, and despite having been in hundreds of shows with thousands of people in the audience, he can’t remember the last time a crowd made him feel alive.

Donghyuck hates being recognized.

When his career had just started, he thought that the greatest compliment was to be recognized. He thought that he’d measure his success with the number of people from the general public who could recognize him under a hat and with a face mask covering half his face. But in the latter years of his career, he’d learned the hard way that he hated being seen and being recognized.

There had been many happenstances in his job in which he’d just wish he was invisible for a moment. Anytime he’s in an airport, regardless it was for an event or concert overseas, or worst of it all, a vacation with his family, all Donghyuck wants is for people not to know who he is. In afternoon runs by himself, all he needs is a time alone and not girls following him and taking pictures of him. On days when he’s out with friends and family, all he hopes is peace. This comes with the job, Johnny would tell him whenever he’d get frisky and annoyed, but Donghyuck never really understood why his privacy is anyone’s business. Never really understood why he had to go through this when all he’s ever really wanted was sing.

Donghyuck hates being seen.

More than anything. Especially when he’s trying hard to hide. And he wishes he’s only talking about his physical appearance being seen. He hates that his grandmother sees through him but doesn’t say anything about it unless he opens up first. He hates that Mark, his best friend in the entire world, sees right through his walls and that all Donghyuck’s done is push him away and make him hate him even more. He hates that his father sees his pain, but doesn’t talk about it for some reason. He hates that you see him—all of him—but you don’t look at him with disgust or pity or anything of that sort.

It’s Friday, yours and his day, the second one since summer school’s started, and he’d started calling you by your childhood nickname again. You’d grimaced the first time and told him nobody’s called you that in a long time, but allowed him nonetheless.

The clock strikes six in the afternoon and the dusk had just settled in the horizon. You and him are sitting on the floor of his room, facing each other, separated by a small table, notepads scattered, ideas running a hundred miles per second.

“This is perfect,” you comment when you and him had finished planning out next week’s daily agenda. “The kids are going to love it!”

Donghyuck stays silent, eyes on you as you finally set your pen down.

“What should we have for dinner?” you ask, eyes still on the notepad. “Nana’s probably heating up some leftover galbi, but I think we should make some kimchi stew, too.”

Donghyuck hums. You look up at him. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I just had something in mind.”

You tilt your head. “Tell me.”

“It’s a question,” he says. “And if I say it, you’d have to answer.”

You think about it for a moment. Donghyuck almost takes it back. “Sure.”

“Really?”

You nod. “As long as you answer a question from me, too.”

Donghyuck pretends to think about it. “Can we set some rules?”

“It’s literally one question,” you snort. “Come on. Ask me.”

“No, ask me first,” he insists.

“You asked first.”

“No. Ask me first,” he repeats.

You scoff. “Fine. You have to tell me the truth, yeah?” A nod. “Ready?” Another.

Donghyuck holds his breath for a moment and you don’t say anything for about a minute, probably thinking the same as him: this is the only chance both of you are honest and open, might as well ask a question one wouldn’t answer on a normal day.

“How are you?”

He exhales the breath he’s been holding and nearly breaks down in tears when he hears the question you’d decided to ask. He’s sure you’ve heard of it all. Everything’s been all over the internet for the past two months he’d been in hiding in Jeju-do: the drinking, the nights in clubs and bars, the fights with the members, the cherry on top which is the scandal. It’d all spiraled into everything he was initially afraid of. The girl he’d met at the back of the club had sold him to reporters and had made up a story of how they’ve been in a sexual relationship for quite some time. The media had dug up stories of him being out of control in the streets when he’s shitfaced from all the soju he had and had posted tales of him asking multiple women to sleep with him whenever he’s drunk.

The agency sued everyone for making shit up, of course, but Donghyuck knows half of those are the truth. He has not been the best group member in a long time: always late in practices, grumpy and hangover during fan signs, lethargic during concerts, and fucking up performances. He’s lost himself, and he’s losing everyone in the process of it.

People ask him if he’d really had sex with someone at the back of a bar. They’d ask him why he never asked for help with his drinking problem. Comments from his Instagram would tell him to back off and just leave the group. Fans from calls and fan signs would ask him why he’d stop making covers of the songs he loved and why he hasn’t been on Bubble in a long period of time.

But nobody else had really asked him how he’s been aside from Nana, who he doesn’t have the heart to open up to.

“I—” He starts but swallows, breathing in. You wait for him. “I’m—I don’t really—I’m not sure if I can.”

You nod. “Take your time, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck reminds himself to breathe.

How is he? How has been holding up after everything that’s happened?

He’s lost his spark. He’s lost his love for music, his passion for the stage, the sparkle in his eyes. He’s losing the people he loves. He’s losing his friends. And he’s losing a battle with himself.

He’s—

“I’m, ” he tries again. “Y/N, I’m not okay.”

It pours like rain, his tears. He shakes when he cries and his chest is tight and it’s hard to breathe, but he keeps crying because it’s the only time he ever will. He sobs in pain and holds himself when his entire body shakes from the ache of it all.

He’s grieving, weeping, like how one would in a funeral, because how does he ask for forgiveness? How does he ask forgiveness from his parents and siblings? From his members? From his fans? From the staff and the people who’d brought him to where he is? How does he ask forgiveness from little Donghyuck when all he’d wanted was for him to grow up a good man?

You let him cry, and only reach out to hand him a handkerchief when he’s done. You don’t say anything. Instead you kneel and reach over to hug him from the other side. Donghyuck accepts your tenderness.

“I don’t have anything else to ask,” you murmur against his hair. “But I do want to say that you’re loved in ways you probably have forgotten already. You’ve probably been used to love that’s loud—screaming and flamboyant and beautiful and everything anyone would want—but you’re also loved quietly. In a small, serene room. In a way you’ve forgotten.”

“Thank you,” he says, sniffling, a little embarrassed now. “I’m sorry. I probably ruined the moment.”

You chuckle, pulling away, and Donghyuck’s heart does flips when you kiss the top of his head like you always did when you were younger. He doesn’t know why he remembers all of a sudden.

“Stop apologizing,” you reply. “There’s nothing to apologize about.”

“There’s a lot,” he admits. “I didn’t recognize you the first time I saw you. We did everything when we were kids, and I didn’t recognize you.”

“And it’s okay,” you assure, holding the top of his hand that’s resting on the small table. “I didn’t expect you to recognize me right away. You were worlds away from me. We forget people and that’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not. I promised to keep in touch, and I never did. I’m sorry.”

You nod. “You’re forgiven.”

Donghyuck sighs in relief. “I doubt, but okay.”

“Trust me.” He does. “Anyway, you were going to ask me something. You’re not allowed to ask the same thing because I’d just answer that I’m tired and I want to sleep. Nothing big happens in my life.”

Donghyuck smiles again. “Ready?” A nod. “Why’d you never leave Jeju-do?”

It seems like you didn’t expect the question because your face tells Donghyuck you’re surprised by what he just asked. You lick your lip and exhale largely, looking everywhere but his eyes. Donghyuck allows you to take your time, and you’re not running away so he’s assuming you’re thinking of an answer for him.

“I don’t have a dream,” is your answer. “My parents think it’s not normal. Because even they had already left the town and moved to a bigger place off the island. People think it’s impossible that I don’t have a dream, that I must want something in life, I just haven’t discovered it yet. And I’m twenty-three, I’m still waiting for my awakening, for dreams to find me, but it hasn’t. I don’t want to do anything in life but just… survive.”

Donghyuck only listens. “In high school, when we were deciding what to take up in college and which college we’d go to, I had nothing in mind. I didn’t want a career—not an engineer, not a teacher, not a doctor, none of those. I couldn’t think of anything. Writing is something that I love doing, but I really can’t see myself pursuing it as a career. I don’t want to end up hating it. I’ve always been convinced that I wasn’t specifically good at anything apart from that. I’m okay with all subjects at school, average grades and all, but nothing ever stood out for me. I never stood out. And I was okay with it for a reason I still don’t know. I was okay with not having dreams. College was the only reason for me to leave Jeju-do. There’s nothing else, therefore I’m still here. At twenty-three, I haven’t accomplished much, and if you want me to be all out and honest,” you sigh. “It’s… it’s starting to scare me.”

“What scares you?”

“That I haven’t accomplished anything yet,” you admit. “I’m not one to, you know, force myself to people and make them remember me. I wasn’t scared of oblivion. Until… these days, I’ve been asking myself, how are people going to remember me?”

Donghyuck nods, urges you to continue.

“Are they going to remember me as someone who helps out in your Nana’s farm because I had nothing to do?” you voice out. “Are they going to remember me as someone who brings all the deliveries to the farmer’s market when the staff is unavailable? Are they going to remember be as Eunseuk’s co-worker? Are they going to remember me at all?”

“Can I tell you something?” he asks but doesn’t wait for you to answer. “I know I’m not in the position to say anything about remembering you when I couldn’t recognize you the first time we met after a decade, but I remember you by the way I see cherry blossoms.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Is that a good thing?”

“We met in a puddle of fallen cherry blossoms in summer of 2006,” he explains. “I remember you by the way you admired flowers that fall off from its stem, by the way you loved fallen and broken things equally when they were perfect and when they stood still. I may have awfully forgotten you all these years, but the way I see cherry blossoms is the exact same way you see them.”

Donghyuck continues, “You know how they say we’re a manifestation of all the people we met, right? That we’re a mosaic of everything we’ve ever learned from them. To me, I remember you as the clear image of who I was before… before everything that’s happened. I remember you as someone helping me find my way back home.”

“Donghyuck,” you trail off. “That’s the… best thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Donghyuck smiles. “And so, what if you don’t have big dreams? Dreams are just dreams anyway. You don’t have to have one if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t have to struggle so much in order to live.”

“Do people know you’re this kind and profound?” you chuckle. “People should see this side of Lee Donghyuck.”

“Call yourself lucky you’re the only one,” he answers.

“What’s wrong with people seeing this side?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “I don’t think they’d want the boring kind. I think they like me better when I’m funny and over the top and a sucker for attention.”

“Well,” you click your tongue. “I like you either way.”

Donghyuck is barely twenty-three. And if he knows anything about falling in love, this might just be the moment he truly learns it.

You and him end up falling asleep on his bed. Donghyuck likes to think he doesn’t really remember how it happened. You’d told him you’d sleep in the hammock at his house’s patio, but he’d insisted to sleep in his room, of course. Reason? Mosquitoes, of course. Donghyuck said he’d sleep on the floor, taking an extra pillow, but you were already half asleep, moving so your body is right by the wall, safe and sound. You’d save the extra space for him to sleep beside you. Donghyuck likes to think he’d fallen asleep because he was exhausted and not because he felt safe around you.

It’s the longest sleep he’s had in a long time.

He wakes up at eight in the morning, the room already warm despite the air-conditioning system still switched on. You are no longer beside him, but he clearly hears your voice from outside.

Donghyuck gets up, going straight outside and finds everyone from the farm gathered around for breakfast outside his grandmother’s house. He’d forgotten that his Nana invited everybody for a scrumptious breakfast today, Saturday, and he wonders why neither you nor Nana herself had woken him up to help out.

Farmers and harvesters pass a plate to one another. A long table is set up in the middle of Nana’s driveway space, various of dishes laid out, and Donghyuck finds you holding two pitchers of tangerine juice, walking around to fill up the workers’ cups.

It’s Eunseuk who sees Donghyuck standing by the patio watching everybody move around.

“There’s our Donghyuckie!” she announces.

Everyone looks at him and greets him a good morning. Nana shouts his name and asks him to come over and eat some breakfast. You squint when you look at him, the sun blinding your eyes, but you smile as soon as he waves hi.

Donghyuck can’t help but think being recognized is not so bad after all.

Donghyuck spends the rest of summer like a kid.

Except he goes to work at Nana’s Music and Literature Classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, goes to the farm on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and spends his Fridays with you. He learns many things over the summer, especially about the community and the town itself. He meets more people as Donghyuck, Nana’s grandson who teaches children how to sing and who helps out in the farm two days a week. They accept him as he is, and he feels like seven again, meeting new people every day until they all remember him by his name.

Among the things he’s learned, he likes learning how your lips taste the most.

It was sudden, unplanned, the kind where he didn’t know he was doing it until he’s done it. You and him were ending a Friday session at your place that time, the place where he used to hide his drinks, and he was so elated that he wasn’t going home drunk for the first time since he arrived in Jeju-do. And he was bidding you goodbye. He’d leaned it like it was the most natural thing to do and caught your lips in his. You shrieked in surprise, unable to say anything, but tipped on your toes and gave him a second kiss before turning and running inside your house.

You didn’t talk about it, and Donghyuck felt like it was not something to talk about. You had voiced out you liked him in many occasions, and Donghyuck’s been relentlessly flirting with you since the night you fell asleep in his room. The signs were never mixed and the lines were never blurred. Donghyuck’s grown much closer to you more than anyone else in the world, and he’s been falling asleep in the safety of your arms these days. It was safe to say the kisses weren’t meaningless.

The night of his class’ recital comes quickly.

Donghyuck spend the entire two days practicing with each of his students while you were busy reading all of your students’ works and giving them feedback before they submit it to the Mayor’s office. You find him getting ready in his room, dressed in the only button-down shirt he brought from Seoul and a pair of slacks. Meanwhile, it’s the first time he’s seeing you in a dress that somehow matches the colors of his outfit.

“Looking great, handsome,” you say.

Donghyuck pulls you for a kiss. “Could say the same to you, beautiful.”

“Why are you so touchy these days?” you whine but lean back to kiss him again anyway. “Ready? One of the parents called and said his kid is already in the venue. They’re excited.”

Donghyuck nods, grabbing a jacket just in case it gets cold later tonight, and leads the way out. Nana is dressed in a pretty dress Donghyuck gave her for Christmas last year. Donghyuck drives to the venue and finds himself nervous for the first time in a long time.

You’d managed to convince him to sing tonight despite his persistent refusal.

“Come on, Donghyuck,” you begged, pulling him by the end of his shirt as he harvests tangerines. “The audience will love you!”

“They paid their tickets to watch the kids of the community sing, not me,” he argued. “And besides, I haven’t sung in like, four months. Who knows? I may have forgotten to sing already.”

“Bullshit,” you said. “Your Nana would want to hear you sing live.”

“She’s already heard me sing live many times,” he replied. “She’s been to many concerts.”

You tilt you head, a habit he’s grown to really like. “But I haven’t.”

Donghyuck had wanted to kiss the pout off your lips at that time. “Watch it from Youtube.”

“You don’t get many lines!” you said.

“So, you do watch my performances in Youtube, huh?” he teased. “Only in NCT 127 I don’t get so much lines because there are more members. Try to listen to NCT Dream.”

“Donghyuck!” you bellowed in frustration as you follow him around the farm. “Please!”

He stopped and turned, a little too late for you to step back because you’re already pressed up against his chest. “Okay.”

“Really?” you asked, voice lower because your faces were just inches apart—one wrong move and you’d be kissing in the middle of tangerine trees.

He nodded, purposely moving his face closer. “Only if you start reviewing for the SAT again and start sending your drafted college applications from your laptop.”

“Who told you to sneak in and open my files!” you gasped.

“I was checking if you’ve ever watched porn in your life and I found something better: your college applications.”

“I hate you, you know?”

Donghyuck chuckled, moving even closer to intimidate you but he hoped you couldn’t his heart hammering against his chest. “I know. Now. Do we have a deal? I’ll sing at recital night and you start reviewing for the upcoming SAT and send out your college applications when it’s time.”

“I’m—I’m not sure.”

Donghyuck let you go, you almost falling back but he held your hand before you could. “Then I’m not singing.”

“But Donghyuck!” He turned to leave while you scream behind him, pleading.

Ten steps forward and he finally got what he wanted: “Okay! I’ll do it! I’ll start reviewing and will send all the drafted college applications! I’ll do it!”

Hence, the singing stunt for tonight.

The event goes as planned.

The night starts with Donghyuck’s entire class singing their own rendition of a famous traditional song that the crowd truly loved. One by one, the kids would sing, with intermission numbers in groups in between, and by the end of it, it was Donghyuck’s turn.

The minus one track is ready and Donghyuck takes a deep breath as he walks up the stage. It’s smaller than any of the stages he’s been on—perhaps the smallest—and the lights aren’t as bright than the ones he’s used to. Big stages mean big lights, and if he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t see a single face when he’s on stage. The illuminations to ensure the fans would see them are blinding, beyond what people think. While his mother thinks his eyesight has gotten worse due to the long hours of playing APEX on his days off, Donghyuck believes it’s because of the blinding lights from the stage and everywhere he goes.

However, this stage has the gentlest lights he’s ever seen. The crowd is small, about two hundred people including their students, and from here, he can see their faces clearly. He stands not too far away, not to high, and he smiles when the crowd cheers when he reaches the middle of the stage.

“Hello, I’m Donghyuck,” he says on the mic. “I’m the teacher of the talented kids we watched this evening, and I can’t be prouder with how they sang their hearts out tonight. To show my gratitude, I also prepared a song for you.”

The crowd cheers again, your voice standing out as you stand right beside the stage, your phone already up probably recording him.

“I sang this song some time last year,” he continues. “This is Good Person.”

The instrumental plays and the crowd claps before he even starts. Donghyuck breathes, closing his eyes, and sings: “What’s going on today? Your face looks like it’s been crying. Did he break your heart? You’re the most precious person in the world to me.”

He hasn’t sung in a long time, and he barely practiced this song yesterday. Donghyuck, for some time before everything went to crumbles, felt scared going on stage. He felt as though he wouldn’t do well enough to deserve the applause and cheers, and he spent a lot of time doubting his own capabilities.

Whoever he is now, Donghyuck truly worked hard for it. At first, he only knew how to sing and it was the only thing he ever loved. And then he learned how to dance, how to stand like an idol, how to answer like a celebrity, how to have his “candid” photos taken, how to be a proper artist—even when he only wants to sing.

Standing here, now, in a small crowd, singing a song he wished was his own, he wished he had written, Donghyuck feels safe.

In Jeju-do, he feels safe. Donghyuck feels like he’s found his way home. The people he’s spent all these months with brought him comfort he’s never known—like coming home after a whole day of being pestered in the real world—and he knows that he’ll never find ease and serenity the same way Jeju-do had given him. The town took him in with open arms, like he’s not some idol who ruined their career for fleeting pleasure, like he’s not some person who’d forgotten about all of them. His Nana embraced him like he was seven again, like making mistakes is normal and that forgiving is easy when you love the person. You accepted him and taught him what falling in love means as though he was deserving of love and comfort.

The song ends with his voice dragging out the last words, his eyes closed: “I can only comfort you.”

When Donghyuck opens his eyes, the lights don’t blind him and the people he knows and love clap, cheering for him. It comes to him like pouring rain. And he allows himself to drench in it—the tenderness, the warmth, the love.

Because he deserves it. He deserves the love, therefore he takes, takes, takes, until he’s full of it.

Like many times in Donghyuck’s life, the ease and serenity end as quickly as it arrives.

You’d spent the night in his home, Donghyuck for the first time learned how to make love in bed. He’s had sex before, of course, but never like how you and him connected in his bed—moans and music of pleasure hushed by each other’s mouth, his honey-colored skin’s warmth pressed against yours, his lips and tongue tasting every inch of you. He’d said he loves you, and you’d said it back as you and him take each other.

This morning he wakes up without a headache, and he’s been waking up without one for a few weeks now. He usually wakes up with the sound of roosters from his grandmother’s backyard, or the sound of you and his Nana talking over your morning coffee. But today, he wakes up with the sound of his grandmother knocking profusely, seemingly frightened by the sound of her voice calling his name.

“Donghyuck-ah,” she shouts. “Please wake up. I don’t know what to do.”

You and Donghyuck get up startled, scrambling to put some clothes on and hurrying to open the door—only to find Nana on the verge of tears. Nana never falters, she’d only shown strength but Donghyuck finds her shaking. Nana doesn’t get the chance to answer because Joohyuk barges in, sweaty and catching his breath.

“The mayor’s security team is here,” he announces. “Let’s get going.”

“Go where?” Donghyuck asks, but Joohyuk is already pulling him.

The door opens, and Donghyuck finally realizes what’s going on.

They’d found him. Men and women with cameras shout his name—he recognizes a few from the conferences he’d attended—and flashes of lights and the stuttering sound of shutters devour him. He looks around and he can’t see you and he hears his Nana cry, and Donghyuck doesn’t understand what the fuck is going on, but he feels his legs give out. Joohyuk practically carries him to the SUV waiting outside their home.

Inside the car, Donghyuck catches a glimpse of the crowd—a crowd that looks like twice the amount of the people from the recital last night. He hears them screaming his name and he sees glints of neon green and posters as they pass by. His Nana, who sits beside him, cries and says she doesn’t understand why they’d found him. The mayor had specifically ensured that the town’s residents do not say a word about his visit way before he’d arrived and she’d done her best to protect him from the lights. He doesn’t say anything and only hugs her tight.

On the other side of Nana is you. You’re staring off the window, the fields far more interesting than what just happened, and you’re biting off the nails of your fingers and your legs wouldn’t stop bouncing. And you’re silent, and Donghyuck wonders why all of a—

Donghyuck doesn’t have to ask you to know.

You’d sold him off.

“I’m sorry,” is all you had to say when you and him are left inside the mayor’s office’s lounge. Donghyuck asked everybody to leave.

You’re sitting on the couch, eyes on the floor, while Donghyuck walks back and forth, angry. “I didn’t mean to.”

He stops walking right in front of you. “What do you mean you didn’t mean to post me on your Instagram? How could you possibly accidentally do that?!”

You keep your head low. “I—I forgot that it wasn’t on private and I didn’t have that many of followers to even be bothered by it. And one of our old friends commented and asked me if it was you—”

“And you said yes?” he enunciated. “You consciously, deliberately said yes?”

You start crying at this point. “Yes, and I’m sorry!”

“That’s a little too late now, isn’t it?”

“I just—”

“You just what? You want to play the girlfriend role so fucking bad?”

“Donghyuck, please, listen—” You get up and hold him by his arms but he backs off and rips his body from yours. “I just—I wanted the world to know that you can be kind and warm and you’re nothing like what the tabloids say—”

“So, you admit you purposely posted it!” he shouts. “What a fucking—”

“Yes!” you admit, still crying. “Because I can’t live knowing the world sees you differently when you’re generous and loving and amazing!”

Donghyuck takes a deep breath, hands on his waist, head tilted up so he can focus on the ceiling instead of the image of you crying. “You have no idea how the world fucking works, do you?”

“You always loved singing,” you reason out. “And the world shouldn’t take that away from you because of one mistake. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I didn’t think it through, but please understand my purpose.”

“You really have no fucking idea,” he concludes, looking down at you, right in your eyes and says: “How would you have any knowledge of what goes on outside of Jeju-do, anyway? You have never left this god damn place in your entire life and you know nothing aside from stringing words beautifully to get what you want. And you think you’re fucking cool for not having a dream and staying in an island, living your small-town girl fantasy, when in fact you’ve done nothing in life and people won’t even remember you. Why would you think you can make this decision for me? You’re just some girl who didn’t even go to college!”

“That’s enough, Donghyuck!” Nana interrupts.

Donghyuck turns and finds his Nana, Joohyuk, some of the Mayor’s security staff, his manager, and his Mother standing right outside the now opened door.

He looks back at you and you’re no longer crying. Your expression is just empty, like a light bulb burnt out.

Indeed, like many times in Donghyuck’s life, the ease and serenity end as quickly as it arrives.

They take the first flight to Seoul after successfully shooing the media and fans away. Nana travels with them, his mother deciding that it’s the best for now until everything calms down.

Donghyuck finds out during the flight that yours and his old friend from middle school had reposted the video of him singing from last night and it went viral in multiple social media platforms. Overnight, people had found out his location and the media had started interviewing people in the town. Despite the mayor instructing everyone not to say a thing, some had answered questions, even submitted entries on some forums about Haechan online.

His manager talks about how their PR team sort of thinks this might just be what he needed, says something about the locals of the town had said so many good things about him. He confirms that the post originated from your Instagram account and you had deactivated at this point and that they’re in the process of contacting your old schoolmate because the agency wants to press charges for invading his grandmother’s privacy and for bothering him on an unofficial schedule.

His mother holds his hand all through, and she offers a kind smile and kisses the top of his head.

Donghyuck cries like baby, and his mother only holds him, and perhaps that’s all he truly needs.

The crowd is just as bad when his plane lands. Donghyuck can barely see and hear considering the lights and people shouting his name. They take him to a separate SUV, away from his mother and Nana to keep them off the radar, and he sits in the car beside his manager.

“Here,” his manager hands him a phone as soon as the car starts moving. Donghyuck had forgotten his phone. It’s probably still in his room back in Nana’s house. People are still screaming his name. Donghyuck stares at his manager’s phone blankly. The screen shows he’s in a call with Mark.

Donghyuck’s hand shakes when he takes it. He puts the device over his ear and doesn’t wait for Mark to say anything.

“Mark-hyung,” he cries.

And cries. And cries. And cries. Until he arrives in SM’s headquarters and the manager has to take the phone away from him. Mark tells him he’s on the way to the headquarters with Renjun and Doyoung and that the others should be on their way after their individual schedules.

They arrive and immediately their staff take care of him like a baby, and he realizes that he’s back. He’s back. Right where he’s supposed to belong.

They take him to the PR teams office, and none of them ask how he’s doing and he’s spiraling again—already starting to think how he could please the staff and make them happy, not even an entire day of landing in Seoul and he’s already thinking about other people at his own expense.

Hence, Donghyuck makes a decision he’s never considered before.

While one of the PR associates discuss how he’s ranked number one in Naver’s most searched term, Donghyuck raises his hand.

They all look at him.

And finally, Donghyuck says: “Please get me a therapist. Please get someone who can help me.”

The room is clean and if Donghyuck’s being honest, a little too perfect for a therapist’s office. A tiny part of his fucked-up brain tries to convince him that they’d probably set him up for a documentary he’s not aware of to clean his image, so he looks around and tries to check if there are any cameras setup.

“Truly a celebrity,” Dr. Yoon says, which makes Donghyuck jump a little. The doctor stands from the door way, closing it as he steps inside. “Please, feel comfortable.”

Donghyuck thinks that’s a little impossible, but he takes a seat one of the single couches.

“The first thing that celebrities do in my office is look around for cameras,” the doctor comments, sitting on a similar chair across Donghyuck. “And I assure you that no amount of money can buy my integrity as a psychologist.”

“I’m relieved,” Donghyuck mumbles. “Hello, I’m Donghyuck.”

“Hello, Donghyuck,” the doctor greets; Donghyuck bows. “I had a quick glimpse of your situation from the form you filled out online. Are you feeling better today?”

“I guess,” Donghyuck shrugs. Dr. Yoon smiles.

“How about I ask questions and if you don’t want to answer, stay silent instead of lying to me?” He asks. Donghyuck sighs but nods. “And if you want to answer, answer as truthfully as you can, yes?” Donghyuck agrees. “Let’s start with simple questions.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

Dr. Yoon asks him many close-ended questions, to which Donghyuck had given him all the answers to, then proceeds to ask him what’s on his mind. The doctor’s notepad sits on the table between them, left open and blank even after asking so many questions.

Donghyuck is not really sure whether he’d done the right thing by seeking help, but he can’t keep hurting people just because he’s fucked up in the head. And he can’t keep hurting himself just because he can’t make the entire fucking world happy. He can’t keep drinking his insomnia away because he’s scared a doctor may tell him he’s fucked up in the head, which he knows already, he just doesn’t want it written in his medical records. He can’t keep fucking up his group’s image just because the alcohol doesn’t help his insomnia anymore. He can’t keep drowning himself in his sadness and the thought of disappointing so many people in his life—the people he left behind in Jeju-do, the members, his fans, the staff, his parents and siblings, his Nana, you.

If melatonin didn’t work, if the alcohol didn’t work, and if Jeju-do didn’t work, then perhaps a therapist is his best shot at getting better.

Donghyuck takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and begins.

“I keep thinking about how I can make everyone happy without sacrificing anything.”

The doctor finally picks up the pen and starts scribbling down.

Donghyuck keeps talking.

Donghyuck goes to therapy on Tuesdays and Fridays, and SM keeps his hiatus status active until Donghyuck decides to come back himself. It’s an agreement his parents, Donghyuck, and the agency settled while things are still chaotic.

The members are supportive of this, especially Mark and Taeyong. They’d send him cheerful messages every Tuesday and Friday, when they know that his session would begin. Sometimes, Jeno, Jisung, and Jaemin would pick him up and take him to a barbecue restaurant after. Donghyuck can’t remember how many times Renjun and Chenle had driven him to therapy and had waited for a couple of hours, only to take him to his favorite Chinese restaurant that serves the best hotpot. The older members have also driven him to therapy once or twice, with Jungwoo even signing up for therapy one time, and they’ve all given him love and tenderness—which Donghyuck accepted.

Donghyuck learns many things from Dr. Yoon. He learns that people pleasing isn't a mental illness, but it can be an issue that adversely affects how many people, with or without mental illness, relate to others. Most of all, people pleasers try to nourish other people without adequately nourishing themselves. Dr. Yoon called it Sociotrophy. He described it as the tendency to place an inordinate value on relationships over personal independence in response to the loss of relationships or conflict.

Those with sociotropic tendencies, wish to make other people happy, often at the sake of their own needs or values. While being warm, kind, and helpful are positive traits, they can result in strong feelings of resentment, anxiety, stress, and emotional depletion when they come at your expense.

People-pleasing, apparently, falls at the opposite end of the scale from autonomy. Autonomy places emphasis on independence whereas people-pleasers prioritize interpersonal relationships above all else. People-pleasers are often extremely empathic and attuned to others’ needs. A people-pleaser therefore tends to pursue intimate, affectionate, and confiding relationships. These people have a strong desire for external validation and avoid, or are sensitive to, situations where conflict may arise. They will go above and beyond to avoid displeasing others out of fear of diminished social acceptance.

This behavior can have detrimental effects on a person’s self-worth and self-esteem. A never-ending pursuit of approval, a desire for acceptance, and a sense of validation that arise from others happiness often result in a negative self-image. The person is likely to feel unworthy, powerless, or resentful, which may result in a lack of self-care.

The way Dr. Yoon had described it basically sums up Donghyuck as a human being.

He also learns that Sociotropic tendencies are often associated with mental health disorders such as anxiety or depression, which finally gave them Donghyuck’s diagnosis: clinical depression, also known as major depressive disorder abbreviated as MDD.

Clinical depression is a chronic condition, but it usually occurs in episodes, which can last several weeks or months. Dr. Yoon says one would likely have more than one episode in a lifetime. Donghyuck had asked him what was the difference between MDD and depression as it is.

Dr. Yoon explained that it’s normal to feel sad when you’re faced with difficult life situations, such as losing your job or a relationship. Some people may say they feel depressed during these situations. MDD is different in that it persists practically every day for at least two weeks and involves other symptoms than just sadness alone. It can be confusing because many people call clinical depression or major depressive disorder just “depression.”

Dr. Yoon also blabbered about chemicals in his brain that, well, Donghyuck really doesn’t understand much. All he knows at this point is that the treatment involves some medication and most specially psychotherapy. Apparently, studies show that the combination of these treatments is more effective than either of them alone.

Donghyuck has been investing a lot of his time in psychotherapy. His normal sessions were every Friday, thirty minutes to a maximum of an hour each. Like how his prescription doses went up, he also requested his psychotherapy sessions to be more frequent, hence Tuesdays and Fridays, minimum of one hour a session, maximum of an hour and a half.

Donghyuck likes to think that over the course of eight weeks, he’d gotten a little better. It turns out that being honest with your doctor means you’d get prescribed the right pills to take to help you fall asleep. No wonder the melatonin pills he’d taken didn’t work in the long run; he was taking the wrong ones and the wrong dosage—just like how he’d been looking for happiness in the wrong places.

From today’s session, Dr. Yoon asked him if he could talk to his mother about how he’d felt for so many years—the pressure, the urge to do whatever pleases her, the comparisons with other members, everything. Hence, Donghyuck finds himself knocking on his parents’ room.

He’s staying at their home during his hiatus. He reckons it’s the best time to speak with her as his father and the kids are out for work and school.

“Come in, Donghyuck-ah,” she says softly from the other side. He opens the door and finds his mother writing something in her journal. “You need anything, baby? Do you want to eat?”

He shakes his head and walks towards their bed, sitting on its edge. His mother puts the pen down and sits beside him. “Something wrong?”

“Eomma,” he says in the softest voice. “Can I sleep here?”

The question brings tears to his mother’s eyes. She nods and leads him to bed, Donghyuck lying on his side and his mother cradling him from behind. He looks like he’s thirteen again, the day before the audition at SM, young and anxious about what the next day would bring, and his mother seems like she’s never aged a day, still determined and only wants the best for her children.

Donghyuck can feel her crying.

“I’m sorry, Donghyuck-ah,” is all she says.

And Donghyuck knows deep in his heart that even before she’d uttered her apology, he’s already forgiven her.

Haechan comes back right before Chuseok.

NCT Dream is invited to perform at a music festival held in the Seoul Olympic Stadium alongside many other artists. When news broke that this would be Haechan’s come back stage, the ticket sites went crazy—crashing every second because everybody wanted to get tickets to see the most-awaited comeback.

Over the course of seven months of Donghyuck’s hiatus, many things have changed. He gained more fans in the latter parts of the hiatus after the world learned his life in Jeju-do. He’d gotten a new piercing in his cartilage, which the fans love, but only Donghyuck probably understands what it means. Old videos of him going on stage went viral years later, the world seeing how talented and passionate he truly is. Clips of him randomly singing without autotune circulated for quite some time, and his fondness of children and respect for the elder have been the talk of the KPop industry for the last months or so, calling him the most well-mannered idol. The scandal had not been erased from history, of course; some people still hate him for it. Some of his old fan sites did not return to support him, and if we’re talking about old Donghyuck, he’d probably be pretty bummed about it. He’d probably start compromising his privacy to give them a glimpse of his life off the stage to get them back.

But the sessions with Dr. Yoon have been working well, because Donghyuck doesn’t really care about pleasing the entire world anymore. Donghyuck thinks that as long as there’s a good number of people supporting him and loving him for who he is—as a person and as a singer—then he’d be okay. He didn’t have to make the entire planet roar his name.

The dress rehearsals are done by the time the clock hit four in the afternoon. The members argue where to go eat. Jisung announces he’s going shopping for a new pair of wired headphones because he lost his on the way to the stadium, to which Renjun says he’d go with him. The others decide to go eat with the staff, some opt to go home and rest so they’d be ready for the next day.

Donghyuck decides to go buy the book that Johnny recommended him: The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. He’s told that the book is about a boy growing up, and that it might strike his thoughts if he’s up to reading a children’s book meant for adults.

Hence, Donghyuck finds himself going through shelves and sections of children’s book after picking up The Little Prince and wondering if Gyeom would want to read any of these.

You see, Lee Donghyuck is not much of a believer of fate. As he’d say before, his career didn’t happen by fate because it was all his mother doing all the hard work. But what are the odds of him choosing to visit this exact book store at this exact moment over elsewhere and another time?

And what are the odds of him finding you leaning against the wall in the corner of the store, hair longer than the last time, nose red and body bundled up in layers of clothes, a book in your hand as you read through it?

Donghyuck stops, stares at you, as if he’s waiting for you to look up from the book, and thinks about how much he’d missed you all this time and how much he’d regretted ending things with foul, unacceptable words. He thinks about remembering you anytime he sees tangerines and flowers around the city. He thinks about the odds of finding you again and again in this lifetime. He thinks about the flowers only blooming as soon as the butterflies have left, missing their timing, and how they bloom again next spring, hoping that this time, the timing is right.

He thinks about you in silence. He thinks about love hiding in the corners of his chest, convincing him he’ll get over it—he’ll get over you. He thinks about his dreams.

A few people pass by the space between you and him. The distance is about three meters. It’s silent for the most part.

Donghyuck is not much of a believer of fate, and you look up to prove him otherwise.

It’s only then that Donghyuck takes a really good look on you: new hairstyle, backpack slung in one arm, a student ID badge hanging right below your chest.

“Y/N!” A girl whisper-shouts from behind fDonghyuck. “Have you found the book?”

You don’t tear your glance away from him, but you nod and say, “Yeah. I’ll go check it out and I’ll meet you outside.”

The other girl doesn’t notice him and proceeds to leave. You take two, three, five, seven steps, and you’re right in front of him.

“Hi, Donghyuck-ah,” you say in the softest voice as soon as you’re close enough.

Donghyuck wonders whether this is just a dream or if he’d started hallucinating you because of the medicines he’s been taking, but then he catches a whiff of your scent, and Donghyuck believes.

Donghyuck believes in fate. In forgiveness. In healing. In love. In finding one’s way back home.

END

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