#the song which lyrics i scribble on pieces of paper in class | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

en-hale-archives · 3 years

Text

Me with You ~~

pairing ⑅ bestfriend!Jake x fem!reader

genre ⑅ friends to lovers, fluff, slow dancing, suggestive/smut

words/read time ⑅ 3.9k/12-19 mins

warnings ⑅ 18+ content, light cussing

synopsis ⑅ Jake is back in his hometown to spend time with his closest friend. During some fun and frivolous dancing, things start to heat up...

author's note ⑅ I’m really proud of how this story turned out. I'm not a huge fan of second person, so I wrote in first, but if anyone asks, I can copy and post again in second person. It's more fluff than anything, but it does get a bit steamier towards the end, so I’m just going to go ahead and put a warning.

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When the back door finally slammed shut and the cacophony of barks faded down the street, I could finally let out my sigh of relief that I had been holding in since this morning. I tapped on my phone. How many days had we been watching Mrs. Chen’s pets? And just how was I able to put up with hours of barking, the smell of fresh turd lying across the lawn, and dog walks till dark? Including their rigorous feeding times and bathroom breaks -- I’m surprised I haven’t exploded yet.

I had so much planned the minute they left my house, but instead, the sudden silence felt all too relaxing and I laid my head against the cold countertop. I could finally stop stressing, stop thinking, and stop worrying about reprimanding for chewing on my shoes or peeing in the house or the continued barking that never ended. I was free. I felt like I could’ve stayed laid on the countertop forever, drowning in the evening sun. Who knew watching five dogs would take such a burden out of a person. Jake and I had taken on the job of dog sitting for Mrs. Chen while she visited some family in Tokyo. We both switched off every other day; some of the dogs at my house and the others at his; until we realized it would be easier if he just spent the few days at my house as we co-doggy sat. He got up bright and early to take them on their walks while I prepared their highly detailed and specific meals. Then from there, we spent the rest of the day making sure they didn’t run off somewhere or cause too much destruction in the house. But alas, Mrs. Chen came back early from her getaway and picked up Toby, Caleb, Khao, Sofia, and Pickle on her way home. Although I was exhausted from watching 3-foot dogs all day, the pay was amazing for me, and it would help tremendously for all the online classes I was going to be taking next semester.

The warmth of the sun cast a comforting trance over my heavy eyelids, and soon enough I was fast asleep, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the soft sound of nothing surrounding me.

By the time I had fluttered my eyes open, I had realized I was now seated in my dining chair and a large black jacket was placed over my shoulders. I sat up and let out a yawn, wincing at the bright light coming from the tv and shaking my now numb arm awake. I must have been sleeping for a while because the evening sun had turned to pitch of black. The moonlight beamed through the window and danced along with the sways of the large oak tree out front. I stood up and walked over to the refrigerator in which I grabbed two water bottles and some leftover pasta.

I was sure that Jake hadn’t eaten since lunch, seeing as he only ate if someone sat food in front of his face. I dragged my feet up the stairs until I heard the slamming of a book and the fast typing of a keyboard come from the living room. I turned and looked behind me. Jake had settled his things on the coffee table and floor, large books, folders, and several amounts of crumpled up pieces of paper found their way around Jake, himself slouched up against the edge of the couch. He had changed clothes since the last time I had seen him, he now wore a plain blue shirt with grey sweats, his eyebrows furrowed as he worked hard on whatever he was getting at.

“Oh yes, I was starving!” Propping himself up on the couch, he took the plate of pasta. I placed the waters on the coffee table and settled comfortably on the couch beside him.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anybody sleep standing up before. Look,” Jake took his phone off the charger. “I got a picture.” He pushed the screen in my face, and of course, there was my unconscious body laying on the counter, mouth open and all. I playfully pushed it back his way as his face lit up with a smile I was all too familiar with.

“What are you doing down here so late, it’s almost 12 in the morning,” I asked. Jake’s smile disappeared when he was reminded of the work he had been doing seconds before.

He let out a large huff of air. “Trying to get some words on paper but instead it turned into a paper massacre,” he jokingly replied, “sorry for the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, taking a swig of water. I was going to ask if he wanted to watch a late-night movie, or pull an all-nighter and talk endlessly until the sun rose, but I could tell by each passing second that Jake was worried about this, and he wanted the time he had now over the summer to work on his music. I wished I was motivated to work on my own music, but unlike Jake, I wasn’t in a globally popular boy band. My complicated best friend for over 10 years had been working his butt off since middle school. It was his annual time to sit back and relax while he had the time to, but instead, he chose to use that time to help watch a bunch of dogs with his hometown bestie. God, I loved him.

Jake pulled himself off the couch and right back onto the floor, leaving the rest of the pasta to me. He picked up his pen again and started scribbling down words as quickly as he could, trying hard not to forget the lyrics that had floated into his head. Until he stopped, closing his eyes for just a split second, and let out a powerful sigh. Crumpling up the sheet, he stacks it on top of the others in frustration and started frantically tapping his pencil against the table.

“Maybe it’s best to just try again in the morning,” I advised, taking a small bite of the pasta that was left by my side.

“How come I’m having such a hard time with this?” He gazed up at me frantically for a clue, as if I had the answer to fix a problem as big and as important as his was. I looked at his doleful eyes and the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. I couldn’t help but think, because I made you sit up and watch a bunch of dogs with me.

“Do you want me to see if I could come up with something?”

“If you want. But, hold on, I think my thoughts are coming back up.” He quickly grabbed another piece of paper, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I tried my best to keep occupied by watching videos on my phone, but I found myself suddenly bored out of my mind. I laid out on my back and picked up one of Jake’s folders. Briefly looking through it, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the amount of fan art and letters, praising him and the other members. Followed with that were just more and more engene stuff, full of nothing but kind words and heartfelt messages. Part of me wished that I was able to travel with Jake and see the world like he was. How fun would it be to meet people that praised you? And how cool would it be to see that you had fans? I couldn’t help but plaster on a huge smile as I skimmed through some of the notes until I finally came to one with familiar handwriting.

Remember Me were the words written on the top of the paper in bold and bright colors. But the message written underneath is what caught my attention:

To the person that makes me the luckiest guy in the world, this song is for you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but please just remember me -- it was Jake’s handwriting.

I didn’t feel like I was breaking any crime reading his stuff until this moment, but curiosity killed the cat, and right now I didn’t mind being a feline. I checked to make sure Jake was still busy, and he was, almost like he had teleported into his own world. I quietly turned back to the sheet and started reading. It was about a girl, presumably his crush I’m sure. She was someone important to him, someone who made him love so much that it hurt. But this was far from a happy song, in fact, it was terribly heartbreaking. She didn’t understand his love, she wasn’t able to interpret it like he wanted her to. But he confesses that he was scared of what telling her would do, worried that she wouldn’t feel the same. So instead, it was like he was apologizing, and asking that she forgive him for not being brave enough to tell her, and if he did ever get the courage to, for her to remember him even if she wasn’t able to love him like he wanted her to.

The song ends like how the title began, and I find myself flabbergasted at the beautiful mixes of rhymes and metaphors that read like a poem. This was the first of Jake’s songs that made me feel this way, like I had just finished watching a tragedy movie with Ryan Renolds starring. I blink back the tears that I didn’t realize were forming. How come he never told me this? We never kept secrets from each other, like ever. It never mattered the subject or the severity, we had always promised that we would be open and honest with each other. I wish I would’ve known this sooner, maybe I could’ve saved him from feeling this way. And what girl could it possibly be? I knew for sure I was the only girl he was presumably close to; but was there someone else?

I glanced down at Jake, who was still in a focused state of mind with the pencil in his mouth and mumbling lyrics softly under his breath. I tried picturing my bubbly Jake writing these agonizing words and miserably failed.

Jake looked up at me as if he could feel my gaze on the back of his head. “I think I’ve found the chorus, but it’s the rest of the song I’m not able to get, and how come it’s so hard to find another word that rhymes with severe? Beer? Sphere? Revere? Appear? Gosh, rhyming sucks some serious ass!”

“This song is beautiful.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh?”

“This song I found in your folder.” I glanced back at it in my hand. “Remember Me.”

Jake’s gaze leaped from my eyes to the sheet, and I felt his body tense. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I was just going through one of your folders. Did you accidentally get it mixed up in your fan folder? Cause this is -”

“Did you read it?” He interrupted.

“Yeah, and it’s perfect.”

Jake glanced at me for a split second before turning back around, obviously uncomfortable. “I was watching one of those Kdramas you love so much and it inspired me. Could you help me rhyme with severe now?”

I knew Jake like the back of my hand, so I knew continuing on with this conversation would get him upset if he’s clearly avoiding it. But, I wasn’t going to just let him off that quickly. “Jake, come on, you can tell me anything. Who is this about?”

Jake looked back at me with a hint of something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and something I wasn't able to decipher. “Nobody, I was just feeling really inspired, that's it.” His tone had switched from calm to agitated.

I give him my I’m-not-stupid look and he comes back with his own you’re-being-delusional stare. “It’s seriously nobody, truthfully and honestly.”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off.” I could tell he was starting to get defensive, and when he got like that, it took him at least a few hours before returning to normal. I watched Jake's Adam's apple move up and down, a way in which I could tell he knew I was not convinced in the slightest. “Well, sometimes we go through things that can remind us of situations like that, but not necessarily in that same exact context, you know? It has to be amplified for that audience appeal.”

“Okay...but have you ever felt this way before? Not exactly like how it’s written, but maybe somewhere along these lines?”

I thought I was going to get another vague answer, or worse, an aggravated one. But instead Jake looked down at his pencil as he tapped it along his wrist. “...maybe, but I think everyone can connect to the words in some way. I mean, everyone feels some kind of heartbreak in their life, right?” Jake's answer was still pretty vague, but at least I was able to get something out of him.

“Okay, but you know you can tell me anything, like, anything ever because you know that you’ll never actually have to feel this way, right?” I said, maybe too much in a hurry.

“Of course I know that.” He replied, giving one of his awkward grins.

“And if anyone has made you feel this way, then you know you can tell me that too cause there a sucker to lose out on a perfect person like you.” I teased in a sing-song way, poking his shoulder hard. Jake chuckled and poked me back.

A weird silence grew in the room, and Jake went back to trying to find rhyming words. I tried getting back on my phone, but I knew I needed to say something to let go of the tenseness in the air.

“Hey, crystal clear rhymes!”

He leaned his head back and looked up at me. “Nevermind, I give up for tonight.”

I could see the stress that played on his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, but by the time I do, it’ll be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Jake pulled his knees up to his chest and spoke. “This was going to go on our album comeback that needs to be finished in the next four months. By the time I think of something, it'll be too late and I’ll have to wait until the next four months. But by then, I'll have forgotten. This always happens and I have no idea how the hell to fix it.” I couldn’t tell if he wanted my help or just a bit of comfort.

“Did you try asking the other guys to see if they had any ideas?”

“Yeah, but they’re working on their own parts, I can’t ask them to do this too.”

“I’m sure they’d be willing to help if you asked,” I assured him.

“I know they would, but I just don’t want to. I always ask them for help, I thought being away from the studio and being back home would help my brainstorming abilities.” He gave a weary chuckle that almost sounded like a groan.

“Well, maybe tomorrow will come with better results.” I did my best to give him some motivation, but I could tell I was failing miserably at that too.

Jake watched as a car zoomed past the window, a low bass sounding off as it zoomed away. “I bet it’s easier to just listen to music than to try and come up with it. I remember when I would just blare NCT all day long and jam out in my room. It seemed so much easier back then to come up with stuff than it does now. I miss it.” He took a slight pause before continuing. “ Did you know that song you read was the easiest thing I have written in my life? I remember writing too. I just had this super weird feeling in my chest one day so I basically locked myself in my room and took maybe two hours and just wrote a bunch of words down and connected them to sound like a song. For once my mind had just gone blank and I couldn’t stop thinking and feeling that song, like I knew what it was supposed to sound like, I knew what the lyrics were supposed to mean. I just knew everything. And I miss that feeling, that feeling of like- '' He broke off his sentence when he looked back up to my eyes. It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to me. He swallowed hard and looked back at the pencil still in hand.

“Well, I'm sorry you don’t feel free anymore. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel like that again-”

“No, please don’t feel like that. It’s just something that had just recently started happening, something I really just can’t fix…” His voice gets softer and softer the more he spoke.

“Have you spoken to your manager about it?” I asked. “He’s super nice from what I understand. And he’ll probably have better answers than your friend who can barely play the piano, let alone produce an entire song.”

Jake laughed before I had the chance to. “ See, now you're underestimating yourself. Remember that song from freshman year? The one about-- what was his name, Josh?” Jake teased. I grabbed a pillow and slammed it into the back of his head. “Oh my gosh, I thought we promised we’d never bring it up again!”

Jake chuckled and laid his arm on the couch completely turning towards me. “How about we sneak out and go get ice cream and try to not wake up your mom in the process?”

I suddenly jumped to my feet when I have the perfect idea on how to cheer up the gloomy Mr. Shim. “Or, we could do something even better!”

“Urgh!” Jake groaned.

I grabbed my phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I was going to turn on his hit song Drunk-Dazed as a joke, but Jake needed this break from his career, so instead, I crunk up Beyonce as loud as it could go without disturbing my mom who slept upstairs. I turn back to Jake and reach out for his hands, already moving my hips to the music.

He shook his head and threw it back onto the couch as if throwing a temper tantrum. “I literally dance for a living.”

“Okay but this will be different, I promise.” I grabbed the piles of papers on the ground and threw them in the trash, I then pushed the coffee table near the wall and piled his folders and books neatly on top.

“Come on, cowboy!” I grabbed his hands and helped him up. He was reluctant to get up, but he threw one last groan before standing on his feet.

“This will get the brain juices flowing again!” I told him. I go back to my phone and switch it to one of my favorite Beyonce songs that she covered, At Last.

I sang dramatically to get Jake to smile, and luckily, it worked. I placed both my hands over his shoulders and swayed us back and forth, still miming the song as overly exaggerated as I could. Jake still couldn’t help but smile, and it didn’t take him long to join me in the rhythm and sway naturally with me. I learned at our middle school dance that Jake had perfect rhythm. He was able to impress the rest of the crowd when he busted out moves from BTS. Everyone was impressed, including me.

Now we were on a steady roll. I accidentally stepped on his feet a few times, but it was fine seeing as I was wearing foam flip-flops and he was barefooted. After a while, the song switched and played another of my favorites that didn’t match our style of dance, but we still moved slowly to the beat. Jake tried twirling me, but since I have two left feet, I almost ended up hitting the wall each time and Jake laughed loud at my clumsiness. The moonlight from the kitchen had now switched to the window in the living room. It gleamed through and glistened on Jake like a spotlight, just like the ones on the stage did for him. In a split second, I was reminded that he wouldn’t be here forever, just like he wasn’t here for the past year. I tried to not let it settle on my face that I was scared to see him go again, so I played up on the fun we were having now. Jake looked like he was at ease; finally, since he’d been here, he looked genuinely happy and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

After another handful of songs full of laughs and giggles, we were soon sweating and taking deeper breaths than normal. Each song was different from the one before, but it didn’t stop us from sticking to our style of dance. Even with the simplicity of the moves and the slowness of the steps, I had to take a minute to relax. I hooked my arms around his neck and rested my entire body on his. I could feel Jake’s own sweat seeping through his shirt, But I didn’t mind the wetness that was now attached to my cheek. I thought he would act awkward and ask for me to pull away, but instead, he gripped tighter on my hips and started slowly moving me side to side. I let out a long overdue sigh, trying my best to match the steady breathing of Jake’s with my own. It was actually therapeutic: hearing his heartbeat in one ear and the softness of the music in the other.

I tried to continue our steady breathing together, but his had picked up a bit, almost out of nowhere. I felt the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck, and it made my entire body tingle in a way it never had before. After this sudden feeling, I realized just how close we really were. His leg hair tickled my legs, I could feel the bone of his foot connecting to mine, I could feel his thin waist against mine as well. I felt like I needed to back up, but instead, I couldn’t and continued to sway softly against him. A few seconds later, Jake’s hands rose a little higher, planting themselves on my waist and tightening their grip as if they were trying to pull me closer than we already were.

The sensation hadn’t stopped though, it clung to my body like my damp shorts did on my thighs. Sooner or later I felt pressure on the lower part of my stomach and thought for sure that Jake was messing around and wasn’t feeling what I was, which indicated that I needed to pull back before this feeling became too much.

This is so embarrassing. I thought. How could I let myself feel like this? How was this in any way okay? I finally pulled back, the sensation becoming too unbearable, and glanced up at his face. His pupils were large in a way I hadn’t seen before. His mouth was slightly open and a drop of sweat slowly traced down his forehead, onto his nose. That pressure I was feeling on my stomach had now doubled in force, and Jake's face had switched from calm and subtle, to alarmed and panicked...

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(part 2 possibly...?)

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave any constructive criticism you have on helping improve my writing!

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None of the images are mine, They all belong to their rightful owners :)

558 notes · View notes

bluefirewrites · 3 years

Note

i gotta Juke AU story

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this is inspired by this one filipino movie i watched “para sa hopeless romantic” but julie and luke go to the same uni and julie writes a random line of lyrics on a schools desk and luke writes the next lines when he’s in his class. the next day julie sees someone finished her lyrics and they end up having a finished song throughout the week. they obviously end up falling in love with each other’s words but one day the desks in that classroom were thrown out so julie and luke try and find the desk and run into each other only for Luke to find out it’s Julie, his crush since the beginning of school, and Julie finds out it’s Luke, they boy who she’s been eyeing ever since she’s first seen him. honestly this is all over the place. this is just another random college au. tehe

I DID NOT KNOW THIS WAS FROM A FILIPINO MOVIE!

I have much more pride in my culture now you have no idea haha! But no really, Filipino movies can be the cheesiest, silliest, most cliche things I’ve ever seen. And I mean that endearingly.

So it makes total sense that this super cute trope that I see popping up in different fandoms came from a Filipino movie.

I think I’ve seen an iteration of this on AO3 and it was super cute! (But I think it was more like leaving a piece of paper on a desk).

But yes, yes , YES.

Juke is the perfect ship for this.

Hmm... I think it would be an interesting take, because my mind went to Luke first, if it was Julie who would start it- yes I agree with you.

It is canon that Luke helped Julie finish the song that she had been working on with her mom (’Stand Tall’), so might as well run with it.

Maybe during her quiet year, where she didn’t sing or play piano, she often found herself doodling a lot. She kinda threw herself into drawing. It was her creative outlet that brought her comfort during these rough times.

She’d have trouble paying attention in class sometimes, and so she would end up doodling.

Now, I used to have a history class that frowned upon doodling in notebooks. The notebooks would be graded, and if there is a non-history, non-relevant doodle in the margins or anything- you get points docked off.

So Julie, like me, tried remedying this by doodling on post it notes to avoid getting in trouble.

But one day, Julie forgets or runs out of post it notes, and she’s only got her history notebook and textbook with her. And since she has no qualms marking up her jeans and shoes, she thought she’d be discrete and doodle on the desks.

Not like anyone would have a problem with that anyway. These desks are old af and scratched up and had doodles on them already.

She would start drawing her usual stuff- funky creatures, bubble letter-ed profanities, etc.

But then she starts thinking about her mom, she starts doodling dahlias and even a rose in one corner. Memories start flooding back and she starts absentmindedly writing down a lyric of a song they never finished, just bits of pieces figured out:

‘Don’t blink...no, I don’t want to miss it’

She didn’t think to erase it. Just grabbed her stuff and went to her next class.

The following day however, she pulls out her post-notes (after getting more) and is about to doodle when she sees a new scribble on the corner of the desk where she wrote her lyrics.

Squinting, she realizes those are words (geez, the penmanship sucks). But she was able to make it out:

‘One thing, and it's back to the beginning’

It’s written right under her line. And she reads them together-

Wow. This sounds... pretty good.

She quickly jots this mysterious new addition to the song in her post-notes, but not before giving writing another shot and provide another line. Curious, if she would get another response.

She does.

And it’s perfect.

It’s been a year, a year since she felt the urge to write, to think about music- but, when all the lyrics fall into place, Julie is suddenly inspired to continue.

She spends the entire class thinking about how to reply, how to keep the momentum of this song going.

When she gets it, she writes it down underneath the new line. And waits.

And like clockwork, next day she sits down and there’s a new addition.

First verse done- Julie couldn’t believe it.

Smiling, she records it all and had to erase everything from before to make more room.

‘Thanks’ she writes ‘Keep going?’

The reply the next day has her grinning from ear to ear:

‘I’m game :)’

And that’s how it goes: Another day, Another killer line.

Julie would rush from her next class, confusing Flynn who did not think she would be so excited going to history, smile on her face, anticipating another message from this mystery writing partner.

Sometimes, she gets too caught up in her head, eagerly thinking up new lines that she often doesn’t watch where she’s going. One time, she pretty much embarrassed herself while bumping into the cute Luke Patterson in her rush to History.

(She practically fell on him and he tried to talk to her after, but she jumped out of his arms before whatever awkward conversation that was bound to happen if she stayed).

Julie and her pen pal would keep working on the song, even came up with a system to let each other know if they’ve finished a verse.

And sometimes it’s not just lyrics. Julie draws her normal doodles next to her lines, and she’s delighted to find even more ridiculous ones waiting for her when she gets back.

There was one time when she’s had to stifle a laugh because a crude caricature of their History teacher in their corner, yelling out the next lyric:

‘I'm goin’ out of my mind!’

(Glad to know someone else shares the same sentiments about their strict history teacher.)

They finish her mom’s song and Julie’s glad... grateful even. But she couldn’t help but feel disappointed... assuming it’s over.

But come Monday the following weekend, her pen pal decided to leave another line-

‘Running from the past... Tripping on the now’

and a new comment:

‘My turn now?’

A new song, and Julie grins, already coming up with ideas...

She loves writing again, especially music. Sparked by this exchange, she eases herself back into listening to music again, looking for inspiration to use for the song she and her mysterious partner are working on.

And writing with this person... is really something else.

But Julie’s favorite part of the whole experience really is the comments written on the upper corner. Stuff like:

‘This part is killer!’

‘Mindreader, much? :P’

‘Wrecking ball at it again. So talented :)’

and her favorite:

‘You make me a better writer...’

She ducks down so no one can see her blush as she writes back:

‘I think we make each other better...’

Flynn one day tells her straight up she’s got a crush on her pen pal, to which Julie denies because how could she have a crush on someone she doesn’t even know.

But as she thinks about it.. she feels like she does. Or at least know enough to establish this sort of connection that feels like they’re in each other’s heads, know how the other person thinks, inspiring the other.

It was... special.

Flynn suggests that she needs to figure out who is leaving these notes. But it’s hard seeing as though Julie has the class in an earlier period, a bunch of other classes are held in the same room after she leaves.

(Flynn tries a sting operation, but ends up getting caught ditching class before she could solve the mystery).

Julie’s worried though. As much as she wants to figure out who this great pen pal is, she wonders if they would be disappointed to find out they’ve been writing her. And not someone as cool and as pretty as Carrie Wilson or her friend Kayla. It’s hard to live up to those expectations.

In the end, she wants to know. At least so she could maybe thank them in person, for helping bring music back into her life and for making history class the highlight of her day.

She decides this right before they break for Thanksgiving. She writes down:

‘I wanna meet you. Can we talk?’

And she’s on pins and needles the entire break, just wondering what her pen pal would say back. ‘Yes’, ‘no?’.

But what she finds when she comes back from break is so much worse than the fear of rejection.

They got new desks.

Their school finally got their shit together and replaced their old, worn down desks.

‘No, no, no, no, no’.

That means she’ll never know what her penpal end up replying...

She runs out of class and finds Flynn, panicked, she tells her what happened. And Flynn does some digging, and she’s able to find out where the janitors dumped the old desks.

Julie totally underestimates just how desperate she is in finding out the identity of her pen pal because she finds herself sneaking back to school at night with Flynn, seeking out the lot behind school where the dumpsters were piled high with the old desks.

Flynn, the ride or die she is, armed with a flashlight, starts taking out the desks along with Julie, and there are... a lot of desks.

They go at it for an hour, and the situation starts to look hopeless, especially when Flynn discovers a whole new set of dumpsters with desks that they haven’t even checked yet.

They’re about to throw in the towel-

But then they hear voices.

Quickly, they hide behind a dumpster right when three guys, with flashlights, come onto the scene.

“Dude, I can’t believe we’re here at this hour-”

“Oh my god. There’s like a boatload of stuff here-”

“Guys. Can you not? And please help me? It’s gotta be here somewhere”.

They sound... familiar. They were definitely not the custodians.

Risking it, Julie leaves her hiding spot-

“Luke?”

Luke Patterson jumps and whips around to face her, “Julie?”

Behind him are his bandmates, Alex and Reggie. Everyone looks at each other confused.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I...uh, I’m-” Julie stammers, “Well-”

Flynn cuts in, “She’s looking for something,”

Luke nods, “Really? So are we.”

Alex scoffs, “Nope. Just you, dude. But we’re helping.”

“Maybe we can help you too?” Reggie offers, “What are you looking for?”

Julie sighs, “... a desk?”

“Well... you came to the right place...” Luke laughs, shining his flashlight on the dumpsters, “Funny enough that’s what we’re looking for too.”

“One in particular?”

Then the guy gets all clammed up, “Uh... yeah. I think... I might have... left something... in it. Something important.”

“How about we all look together?” suggests Flynn, “Help each other out?”

And so they exchange the descriptions on the desk, with Julie leaving out the glaring obvious detail of the note.

They’re surprised to find out that they’re looking for the same kind of desk. The ones they used in a particular building at school, the same one her history class is in.

So they break off and search. And she ends up in the same dumpster as Luke.

“So what’s in your desk?” he ends up asking.

“Huh?”

“You know... that’s so important that you’re here on a Friday night, digging through a dumpster,”

“Right... uh,” Julie scrambles for an answer, “There’s something on- I mean, in the desk... that really helped me. I was going through a hard time. Lost my mom last year-”

Luke stops his search, “Oh, I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay. I just...” she sighs, finding another desk that looks like hers but not quite, “I just want to find it...”

“I get it. Hopefully we can find your desk.”

“Hopefully we’ll find yours too,”

After another 20 minutes searching, Julie finds it. At the very bottom of the dumpster. Luke’s face lights up once she brings it out.

“Oh my god, you found it!” He exclaims, hands gripping the edge to take it off her hands.

She tugs it back, “Yeah... I found it... my desk,”

“Your desk? But this is my-” he breaks off, eyes widening, “Wait. Are you...?”

“Am I what?”

Luke drops the desk, clears his throat, and starts reciting:

‘I believe... I believe that we're just one dream...’

Julie gasps, then continues:

“Away from who we're meant to be...”

Then together: “That we're standing on the edge of...”

“...great.” Luke finishes, in awe, “You! You’re ‘Lyric Girl’!”

“You’re my pen pal?” Julie says in disbelief.

Luke Patterson has been her pen pal this entire time? The cutie with the cutoffs? It makes total sense. He’s in a rock band and the songs she’s heard from them have amazing lyrics.

Wait... she has been lowkey crushing on Luke Patterson through his words...

“Wow, it’s you! Luke... wow...” she honestly has no words. They used to come easy to her when she talks to him via the desk, but now, after finding out that the local heartthrob is her writing partner, she’s super nervous.

“Look... if you’re disappointed that it’s me... I get it. I’ll give you an out, and you won’t ever have to talk to me again-”

“Julie-”

“-like this is weird- this is weird right? But I mean what we had was nice and all-”

“Julie, can you-?”

“-we don’t ever have to talk about this if you don’t-”

“Julie!” He reaches for her hands and intertwines their fingers, shutting her up.

“Yeah...?”

He takes a deep breath before saying: “Why would I ever be disappointed that it’s you? I’ve... got like a mad crush on you since freshman year...”

Julie choked, “Wait, what?”

“Voice of an angel and wicked beauty to boot? How could I not?” he smiles, “And... finding out that you’re my mystery muse is just... you don’t know how happy that makes me.”

His smile drops and he’s all the sudden bashful, “Wait... are you disappointed that it’s me?”

She shakes her head, “No, no! That’s not why! It’s just... you’re this rockstar in the making! I didn’t think- I didn’t think you’d ever pay attention to me.”

“I do... I do pay attention,” he looks down at their desk, “Well... maybe not enough attention, otherwise we would have met sooner.”

She laughs, “Totally,”

They stand there for a while, grinning at each other like idiots.

“So...” Julie decides to jump the gun, “Do you... maybe wanna grab something to eat?”

Luke raises an eyebrow, “Are you asking me out, Julie?”

She blushes, “Maybe,”

“Interesting,”

“So what’s your answer?”

He leans in, “Might wanna look down,” he whispers.

She does, right on their desk and finally reads the reply she’s spent weeks thinking about.

‘Tell me where and when...

I’ll be there...’

Needless to say, but that from that day on- they don’t need to use their desk to talk anymore...

#this... has been sitting in my inbox #and finally I have answered!#I LOVE THIS CONCEPT #giving me the same vibes as my imaginary friends penpal juke idea #i guess this means i just... love Dash & Lily #julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie and the himbos #juke #palina #juke-box #julie x luke #luke x julie #julie molina #luke patterson #how many times am i gonna sneak in 'wicked beauty' in whatever I write?

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hatsukeii · 3 years

Text

【２３：１４】

The heavy bass line rings through your headphones as you scribble furiously onto the thin piece of loose leaf paper on your desk, a skinny desk lamp illuminating your workspace. Your strokes are slow and steady, cautious not to mess up your page of perfectly organised notes. When it ends up looking worse than before after your fifteen minutes of pure concentration and effort, you throw your pen down, letting it roll away sadly as you bury your face into your palms. It’s been a tough day, truly. School’s been rough on you lately, with the realisation that both your science teachers are absolute trash, as well as the pileup of assignments and assessments due in a week or two. Maybe if they were able to teach for once in their measly little teaching journey, you wouldn’t be up at eleven on a school night desperately trying to understand the overload of information that was the entire immune system and all its mechanisms shoved onto your plate during class, of which they made no effort to explain or talk about. No, you can’t put all the blame on them, considering there’s a bigger contributor to your insomnia.

Writing notes is just an escape, an excuse to avoid having to think of anything else, to shut the outside world out and live in your little comfort bubble. When the dumb hormones and intrusive thoughts and fantasies manage to get into your head even while you’re at peak concentration, there has to be a bigger problem within. There are three categories of “bigger problems.” Number one would be your period, the time of joy for every single woman isn’t it? Everything is amplified when you’re on your period. Emotions, feelings, pain, everything. That combined with the agonizingly painful cramps are enough to make you feel like burning everything to the ground in frustration. Number two would be an earworm, bonus points if it lasts for more than two months. Stupid earworms, forcing you to play the same two songs on repeat for hours on end while you study. You can’t hold yourself back and sing along to verses and in no time you’re dancing along and having a full on concert at your desk and suddenly the thought of studying for that test you have in two weeks or doing that project that’s due tomorrow but you procrastinated on and left to do today slips out of your mind. Number three, also the most troublesome and irritating, is a person. Someone that you just cannot for the life of you get out of your mind. Someone so interesting and intriguing that you can’t help but desire to learn more about them. What their interests are, what their favourite music is, how they let out rage, their mannerisms, anything, everything. Today, you’ve got a mix of everything amped up to the max.

You let this one particular Heat Waves remix play again for what happens to be about the thirteenth time within the past two hours, slamming your head onto the table once the lyrics start. “Sometimes all I think about is you.” You say along the singular line, letting your eyes flutter shut. Man if only that line doesn’t apply to your current situation, that would be greatly appreciated. It’s so stupid. This is so stupid. Everything is crumbling down again like skyscrapers during an earthquake, shattering into pieces when it hits the concrete ground beneath them, all because you were too weak to not fall for someone. It’s dumb, ridiculous, and you hate it. You let your eyes open again, adjusting to the warm light of your desk. Scrolling through the comments, there’s a common pattern. “It’s always we need to talk, but never yntbkshycryn” You shouldn’t have gotten curious and tried to find out what it meant, because now you can’t stop fantasising about how euphoric it’ll be with Tsukishima’s hands around your neck and you on your tiptoes as your lips meet and he kisses you so hard that you can’t remember your name.

Edit 1: bet you didn’t see this coming did you

Ps. Hey you found me! :D Now never return please<3 (heart is for added effect)

#tsukishima kei #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabble #anime #haikyuu scenarios #tsukishima imagines #drabble #I legit posted this so my friend could attempt to find my blog and HE FUCKING FOUND IT I’m gonna cry

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stxrrywildflower · 4 years

Text

carolina (2)

pairing - emily prentiss x reader

summary - you meet emily in a bar, she doesn’t realize who you are until she hears a song about her on the radio

warnings - none

series masterlist

emily felt like she couldn’t breath.

the profiler tried to go on with her life, she really did. except, your song was already extremely popular. it was topping the charts, people were constantly talking about it, and it was played on most radio stations. it was incredibly difficult to avoid the song, nonetheless you.

an entire week went by of emily trying to escape the song. the details of your hookup were never released, emily was starting to regret not admitting it to j.j. and garcia. the tech analyst loved the song, always gushing about the lyrics. all emily wanted to do was yell that it was about her.

but she couldn’t for multiple reasons; your privacy and the reaction from others. sure the team knew of her partner preference but how would they react if they knew emily had hooked up with one of the most famous singers at the moment.

news articles were another issue too. drama outlets were pestering you with questions about who the song was about. each time, you would remain stubern and not open up. it made her want to scream.

emily decided to just move on, work becoming her main priority for the next few days. j.j. and penelope didn’t let up on their questions, though they did learn to be more subtle about it.

no new cases were presented which was more than suprising. the team was fairly thankful for it, paperwork and 9 to 5’s were usually uncommon. being able to actually work and be home in time for dinner was one of their simple pleasures.

walking into work, emily was focused on one thing; coffee.

she couldn’t have been in the main floor for more than a few seconds before penelope was rushing over to the elevators.

“hey em,” penelope greeted. “there was a package dropped off for you this morning. i told the delivery guy to just leave it at your desk.”

though emily nodded, her mind was already formulating theories as she hasn’t ordered anything recently. being a profiler will make you that paranoid.

just like penelope had said, a smile white box with a small gold ribbon sat on her desk. emily narrowed her eyes slightly, having even less of a clue on what it could be.

“well, are you going to open it?”

emily ignored the remarks from the team, taking a seat and placing her bag at the base of her desk.

with only slightly shaky hands, she reached out to untie the ribbon. the sides of the box fell away as the strings were released, leaving the top on. after pulling the final piece off, she froze.

inside was an envelope, another piece of paper under it. the note was in your handwriting, edges crisp and extremely neat. in cursive letters was ‘emily prentiss.’ all thoughts of it being a mix up went right out of the door.

she refrained from opening it yet, wanting to see the other contents in the box before reading. emily next put the note on her desk, now focused on what was under it.

of all things, it was a plane ticket. ‘washington dulles international airport (IAD) to los angeles international airport (LAX). 9:30 am.’ it was set for the following morning, first class and already paid.

emily opened the note, seeing a five letter offer scribbled down.

‘meet me in los angeles?’ -y/n

emily’s never taken time off quicker.

____

touching down in the warm city of los angeles, emily was a bundle of nerves. she was already begining to regret wearing joggers and a t-shirt.

she had no clue how to feel about dropping everything or just the situation as a whole

it was only when emily grabbed her luggage that she realized just how much of an idiot she was. she had just flow across the country with no clue where to go, who to talk to, or where you were. she was acting on pure adrenaline and impulse. her luggage finally came around, emily picking it up and extending the handle to grab.

a tap on emily’s shoulder caused her to jump. she turned around, now in front of a man in a clean black suit. he was holding a name card and a small index card.

“emily prentiss?” he asked.

“yeah?” emily replied, not quite sure what else to say. “this is for you,” he added, handing over the small piece of paper.

‘if you’re reading this, i assume you arrived with no issue. i sent leo to pick you up at the airport, hope he didn’t freak you out. he’ll take you back to mine. xx - y/n’

emily picked up her luggage once more, ready to follow leo out. “just letting you know, it’s a bit of a drive,” leo offered, getting in the drivers side while emily took the back. she nodded, letting out a sigh with it. at least she could think for awhile.

pulling up to your house, scratch that, it was pretty much a mansion, emily didn’t know if she had guessed completely correct on what it would look like or was just flat out wrong.

the house was in hollywood on one of the steep hills. after passing through the gates, a heavy security measure, she finally got view of the home. the outside was pretty modern, made up of mostly white and grey colors as well as many windows. a garden with a fountain in the center greeted her as they pulled into the circular driveway.

“well this is where i let you out. just head up the stairs and ring the doorbell. y/n should be down to greet you soon,” leo spoke. “i really hope everything works out. i’ve never seen y/n happier then when she came back from washington d.c.”

emily thanked him quietly, still processing the final piece of information he had spoke.

dragging her bags behind her, emily headed up the series of steps and to the door. just like leo had instructed, she pushed the doorbell button and stood back.

you didn’t greet her at the door, the lock on the door clicking signaling emily that it was now unlocked. she twisted the knob, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

the foyer may have been more impressive than the outside. a grand chandelier hug from the ceiling, a curved staircase leading up to the top floor. her heels clicked around the floor as she twirled around, looking up at the decor.

you heard the front door of your house open, the alarm alerting you just moments before. you were currently making lunch, just a simple sandwich and then fruit on the side

after putting your lunch on hold, abandoning your knife you were using as well as your now finished meal, you left the kitchen to meet your guest.

emily stood only slightly awkwardly in your open foyer. her bags were by her side, eyes darting around the room. half the stuff in there was probably worth more than she could think.

footsteps broke the profiler out of her observation.

you were finally in her eyesight a moment later, a small smile on your face as you walked down the hallway. what captivated emily once again was just your overall appearance. a sharp breath escaped her lips before she would realize that.

a loose oversized tan cardigan hung of your body, a white tank top underneath that with leggings as your pants. your hair was down, relaxed in its natural style. no makeup was on either, not even lipstick like you had on when she first met you.

“hey em,” god just the way you said her name made her blush.

“hi,” emily greeted, thankful her voice didn’t crack.

“i can take your bags upstairs,” you offered. “i’ll put them in my favorite guest room, it has the best views. you can go into the kitchen if you want, it’s just down the hall. the rooms open, there’s no way you can miss it.”

the two of you went your separate ways, you upstairs and her to the kitchen.

out of pure habit, emily ran her hand across the marble countertops, looking around at the details you had strewn about.

“sorry about the mess, i was just making,” emily jumped at your voice. she wasn’t expecting you back so soon. “it’s totally okay, honestly.”

another wave of awkward silence fell over you two, neither quite sure what to say. “look emily-” you started. “we do need to talk about what happened.”

“do we?” emily spoke. you laughed, “yes we do.”

while you took a seat at one of the counter seats, emily stood up. she was obviously holding back, reluctant how to go with the situation.

“come on emily. you’ve been all i’ve thought about for the past two weeks. hell, i even wrote a song about you. and we do need to talk about the elephant in the room,” you pleaded. “have you even heard it?”

emily nodded, “yes i have. my friend penelope sent me the link. listed it it then and didn’t really know how to react. it was kinda difficult to avoid, it’s playing everywhere. your doing amazing by the way. figured i could throw in a complement there.”

a blush passed across your cheeks. “thank you,” you whispered.

emily then looked down, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. you figured you might ask well just dive into the heavy stuff.

“all i’m saying is that you came here for a reason. there has to be some part of you that’s been thinking about me too. i would like to think you aren’t the person to just drop everything and meet in a whole different state for just anyone,” you commented.

you did get her there. emily did really just leave work without explanation to come see you.

emily didn’t respond, choosing to step forward to connect your lips. you hooked your legs around her, holding her cheek and arm in your hand.

the kiss was incredibly different than the one at the bar, that one being sloppy and rushed. you two were in a hurry, wanting to feel as much of the other as you could.

this one, you could actually take your time. very little could interrupt the two of you. you could actually savor the feeling of her body against yours.

“let’s give us a try,” you mumbled against her lips.

emily nodded, holding your waist a little tighter. “let’s give us a try.”

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @zoseph @kissessfordraco @ogmilkis @cm-is-kinda-cool @matthewgublerswife @guessthatswhyiliveinhell @spencerslatte @babyangellee @agentshortstacc

#criminal #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia #luke alvez #matt simmons #tara lewis

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aestheticseungmean · 4 years

Note

Can I request 16, 17, and 18 from your prompt list? with Bang Chan? Suggestive please 🥰 love your blog, sweetheart!!!!

Meet My Family-Bang Chan

Chan told his family that he had a girlfriend. Truth was, he didn’t. Who better to play the part than you?

Suggestive, Fluff, Angst if you squint

4K words

Warnings: Suggestive, cursing

Unedited- (For me it says the images are sensitive. They aren’t. It’s just a Chan gif and fake message I made so don’t worry.)

This is a mess...

——————————————————————————

“And in both stories, there is an eternal God who creates the world. And then, there are waters out of which the god rises…” Your mythology teacher droned on about creation stories. The board was littered with written words that were rushed and sloppy. Soft sounds of pens and pencils scratching against paper filled the room. It was 8:45 am and you were already done with life. You furiously scribbled down notes on your poor worn out composition book. “I would like for you to write about the creation story you grew up learning. See you on Monday!” It seemed like you couldn’t get out of there fast enough as you got swallowed up by a sea of students rushing to their next class. As soon as you could, you freed yourself and leaned up against the wall. “I seriously should start waiting before heading out.” Finally, the halls cleared out a little and you safely headed to your advanced photography and editing class.

The classroom itself wasn’t like normal. It was dainty with a black room for the older students who have been taking the class for years. Computer desks were randomly placed across the room with supplies in the back corner for projects. There was even a video booth with a green screen for the film majors and music producers to work on their projects together. Today, it looks like Felix was untangling the wires for his short movie. You opened the door and stepped inside, the air smelling like cinnamon vanilla courtesy of the boy. “Hey, Felix!” “Oh thank god! Can you help me?” His eyes were pleading and you couldn’t say no to his cute freckled face. “Yeah.” You took a seat next to him and began to untangle an orange wire. “I’ve been in here since seven untangling these stupid things and I’ve only got two done.” “Have no fear! Your hero is here.” You two busted out in laughter, the sound echoing through the empty space. Thankfully, your teacher did a reminder of the project that was due at the end of the month and let the class do whatever.

You shut the door and turned on some music to jam out to. The quiet beat brought three music majors who had to find a place to practice their work to the room. “Oh hey guys!” You knew them well despite them being in a higher class than you. “Felix, this is Chan, Changbin, and Jisung.” Countless times, your roommate’s friend has held a party in your party and countless times, you’ve offered up your bed to one of those three to sleep. Most often, they’d wake up with a headache to find medicine next to them with a glass of water. In fact, it happens so often, they have come over to the dorm subconsciously and stayed to write lyrics. They even have clothes in a dresser you bought specifically for them. “Guys, this is my friend, Felix. He’s a film major.” The trio recited their heys and sat down to join the untangling party. Felix laughed as Chan and Jisung jumped at the sudden genre change in music. The soft pop song turned into a hard rock song that contrasted the sad lovesick melody with death. You and Changbin were jamming out and surprisingly, throughout the time, he kept up with the different music.

The professor came in to tell you guys that class was over but if there wasn’t a next class, you could continue the party. Only Jisung left, forced to catch up in his chemistry class or he’ll fail. “I’m impressed that you know all of these songs, Changbin.” Changbin smiled, basking in your praise. “I may or may not listen to your Spotify playlist on repeat.” Chan and Felix laughed while nudging him, giving him “the” look. “It’s not my fault they have good music taste.” The boys were relentless. “I don’t like them like that.” “Ah yeah, sure.” Felix retorted, not believing it. You couldn’t help but giggle knowing that Changbin had no interest in you. Many nights, Changbin would drunkenly go on and on about his crushes. Your stomach grumbled because you skipped breakfast. “I promise I’ll pay for lunch as a thank you.” You looked at Felix and smiled. “That sounds wonderful.” He smiled back, his freckles scrunched up underneath his chocolate brown eyes that made you melt.

Thankfully, the cafeteria wasn’t jam-packed so it was quite easy to find a seat. Jisung had caught up with the four of you. He sat at the table surrounded by textbooks and papers. “Jisung, are you going to eat?” The boy nodded but didn’t move so you took matters into your own hands. Picking up a piece of chicken, you held it to his mouth. He looked at you confused but still took it. “If you aren’t going to feed yourself, I’ll do it for you.” Before he could protest, you already had another piece of chicken held to his mouth. Jisung shrugged and found this way more convenient than study, break, study, break. “Jisung, if you didn’t party all the time, you wouldn’t be in this situation.” He looked up at the voice to see Chan eying him. “Sorry, Chan.” “If you need help, I can tutor you sometime this weekend.” You chimed in wanting to help Jisung because his passion for music was like your passion for photography, limitless. “In fact, I need some help in Anatomy too.” Felix chimed in. “Study group at my apartment this weekend. Everyone is coming and staying the night. Chan and I can help you guys and Changbin can work on his lyrics due Wednesday.” They all agreed happily.

A knock sounded through the door. It was a patterned knock which means Changbin had arrived first. The two of you were chilling while waiting for the others when Chan barged in and shut the door out of breath. “Are you okay?” You asked, rushing from your spot to check on the male. His shirt was tattered exposing his well built chest. Water dripped on his shirt signalling he just got done with swim practice and Changbin knew this. He brought a towel out for the older man and sighed. “They are getting worse each week.” “Who is?” Two others rushed into the apartment quickly closing and locking the door. It was Felix and Jisung. “Your fan club is out there. I’m too scared to get my books they stole.” Annoyed, you rolled up your sleeves and grabbed the air horn before stepping out into the sea of teen girls with their phones out. They clamoured after you, upset that you were with Chan. The air horn shut them up and you were able to talk. “Listen, I know you guys love Chan-“ They all cheered and nodded. “But Chan and his friends need to study and do their homework or they will fail. You don’t want to be the cause right?”

A loud resounding no echoed through the halls. “That’s right. So can you guys do me a favor and hand me the books and supplies you stole from the boys.” A few girls passed Jisung’s stuff to you and you collected it. “And, can you guys please leave Chan alone for the rest of the year so he can graduate and do what he loves?” The girls groaned and you shushed them. “You can still support him. He has a swim meet next friday at 5. I would like to see you guys there to show your support.” Surprisingly the girls left and you headed back in with an empty air horn and textbooks. “Solved.” The boys stared at you in amazement as they rushed to the door to see if the girls were still there. As you had said, they weren’t. “Now that you know I’m not lying, let’s get to work.” With Changbin’s fresh beats playing in the background, the group got work done very fast. It was almost ten when you settled down for a movie and dinner. Your roommate, Johnny, had gotten home and brought some takeout knowing that you were busy and didn’t get anything to eat.

Changbin settled down in front of you and you set to work playing with his hair. Since it was close to Halloween, you put on the first part of It. The empty food containers lay on the table as each one of you gradually fell asleep leaving Johnny to clean up the mess. He gingerly picked you up to carry you to your room; Something he’s always done when you spent countless hours studying. You woke up to see Johnny tucking you into your bed. “Johnny is the best roommate.” Your voice trailed off towards the end as you drifted back to sleep. Johnny chuckled to himself and moved to deal with the others. Amazingly, the others were easy so he did the dishes and went to bed before eleven. He had work tomorrow so he’d leave early in the morning allowing you to work on what you need to work on. Unfortunately, one thing he didn’t account for was Felix’s sleepwalking. Felix walked into your room and laid down on your bed immediately cuddling you.

You woke up to a body next to you and you freaked out for a minute until you saw it was Felix. Quietly, you slipped out of bed and towards the living room where Chan resided. “Morning!” “It’s too early to be that chipper.” You complained while rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. The rest of the weekend went the same way and you guys got your homework done. Felix offered to cook and Johnny screamed when he saw the mess in the kitchen. Chan and Changbin helped do the dishes while Johnny and you cleaned the walls free of the spaghetti sauce. Felix was forced to go out and buy more cleaning supplies. The weekend ended too fast for your liking and before you knew it, the boys were leaving. School was gruesome as usual but you got to eat with the boys again. This time Jisung didn’t have to focus on schooling. “I got a 98 on my test.” He raised his water and cleared his throat dramatically. “I’d like to thank _____ for helping me attain this amazing feat. So thank you.” Laughter erupted at the table as Jisung continued.

——————————-

Chan had texted you asking you to go with him to see his family for the short break. It took you by surprise when he told you why he asked you.

———————————

Day 1 of the break rolled around and Chan made his way to your apartment early to pick you up. He stood in your doorway for a solid minute watching you dance to the music while finishing up packing. “Cute.” You screamed and dropped your brush that you were using as a microphone. Out of embarrassment, you punched Chan and he winced at your strength. “That hurt.” “Don’t s-sneak up on me.” He smiled. “You stuttered.” “I do that when I’m embarrassed.” Chan helped you get your bags into the car and sighed. “Ready?” “Yes.” It was about ten minutes into the drive when you got annoyed with the music playing. “Can I play music?” “Only if you do your cute little dance.” You glared at him and he laughed. “I’m teasing you. Yeah, go ahead. The aux cord is right here.” You picked up the cord and plugged in your phone, immediately playing a song. The scenery rushed by the window and you watched it calmly hoping that it was beautiful the entire time.

“We are almost there.” Chan’s voice broke you out of your trance. “We should make sure that we know everything so we seem believable.” He nodded and went on to tell you some facts about him while you did the same. You two made sure that you had a believable meeting story as well. Chan turned onto a bumpy road that needed maintenance badly. You watched as the small houses passed by, taking in everything that meant so much to your friend. The car slowed down for another turn, this time down a short driveway. “Well, we’re here. My family can come on a little...strong.” “It’s okay.” You were greeted by a dog as soon as you stepped out of the car. It’s brown eyes stared up at you cutely and you couldn’t help but pet it on the head. “That’s Brost.” At the name, the dog perked up its pristine brown ears and charged at Chan knocking him down in the grass. “Berry, off!” Both Chan and Frost turned their head towards the doorway where Chan’s mother stood. Two younger kids ran by his mom and fell on top of Chan. “Chris is home!”

It was almost as if Chan’s mom was an eagle. Her eyes darted towards you and she smiled. You cowered when she neared you to hug you. “You must be my baby’s girlfriend!” “Yes, ma’am.” She tutted before pulling back. “No need to be so formal. Call me mom.” “Mom, let her breathe.” Chan made his way next to his mom, the resemblance uncanny. “My little Chris.” You watched happily as Chan’s mother smothered him with kisses and hugs. “You’ve grown taller.” While he was greeting his mom, you met his siblings. “I’m Lucas!” “I’m Hannah.” You smiled towards the duo and introduced yourself as well. “I’m-“ “______! Chris has told us all about you.” He has, has he? “Kids, don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt someone introducing themselves?” “Sorry, mom.” Mrs.Bang and the kids went inside to clean and finish dinner while you and Chan got your suitcases. “My mom has turned the guest room into a trophy room so we’ll be sleeping in my old room.” You nodded knowing that this was your fate for agreeing.

The room was small. Then again, Chan didn’t want or need too much space. He wasn’t the type to have a bunch of stuff, just minimalistic. What made you cringe wasn’t the cheesy glow in the dark stars plastered on the walls and ceiling nor the dinosaur bed sheets; it was the twin size bed that was barely big enough to fit Chan alone. “This thing has shrunk since that last time I saw it.” “Shrunk? You’ve gotten taller. Besides, we’re going to be sore trying to stay in one place.” Chan chuckled and sat his suitcase in the corner. “Chris? Someone is here to see you.” Both you and Chan walked out to the living room to find Chan’s grandparents. His grandmother walked up to you first to assess you. “So have you guys gotten down and dirty?” “GRANDMA!” You looked past the elderly lady towards Chan whose ears were red. “Chris, it’s a part of life. So I take that as a no?” Giggling at how straightforward Chan’s grandma is, you shook your head. “Kissed?” This time you nodded. You had to make it believable. “Is he at least a good kisser?” “The best!”

Dinner was awkward. Actually, awkward isn’t the right word to describe it. It was utter chaos and embarrassment. Questions came at you from left and right. Chan answered some of them and you answered the rest. At one point, everyone thought it was a great idea to start telling you embarrassing stories about your “boyfriend”. “Oh, I remember when he was about four-“ “Mom, please don’t.” Chan pleaded and begged but she went along with the story. “He loved to sing this one song. I don’t remember it but it was so cute. We went into the grocery store and I lost him. His dad and I looked for about ten minutes until we heard him over the speakers singing his song.” At this point, he gave up and chewed his food, embarrassed and red. “Channie is so cute!” You teased, poking his sides. When you didn’t think he couldn’t get any more red, his mom wet a napkin and clean his face like one would to a child.

After dinner, you stood in the hallway with Chan looking at the pictures. Footsteps sounded close by and his mom called out for him. “They’re coming. Kiss me!” You pulled him close, kissing him deeply. His hands found their way to your waist pulling you flush against him. “Look at them!” “Get the camera.” “I got the camera, mom. I’m recording.” “What’s happening- Ew Chris is kissing his girlfriend.” “My son is a man now.” “Now that’s how you kiss a woman right there. Lucas take some notes.” Is his family always like this? You were the first to pull away not being able to control your laughter. “Seriously guys?” Chan’s family shamelessly watched you two kiss. “Are you sure you haven’t gotten funky yet?” “Grandma! Why?” Chan reminded her that you guys haven’t done anything. A little while later, his grandparents left and the others were settling down to sleep since they had school. You and Chan laid in the twin bed —which was more spacious than it looks— and turned on the newest It. Somehow, you ended you with your back against the wall and Chan’s head in your lap while you played with his hair.

You had your fingers in his hair when a jumpscare appeared on the screen. Of course you jumped but you also pulled Chan’s hair who bit his lip to stay quiet. He had finally calmed down when you tugged at it again, this time braiding it. Chan tried but he couldn’t hold back the soft moan. “Chan, are you alright?” Immediately he pulled down his shirt to hide his growing bulge. “Yeah.” Curious, you tugged at his hair watching as he squirmed. Then you saw it. What he was trying to hide but failing to do so. You leaned down close to his ear and whispered. “You are really bad at hiding how turned on you are.” Your breath tickled his ear and he moaned again, this time louder. “Stop.” Chan looked up at you, eyes blown out. “You should take a cold shower.” Thankfully, he did so quietly. “You are mean.” You looked at the male who walked into the room with just a towel on. Your eyes watched as a drop of water fell from his hair onto his chest and cascaded down his abs and even further beyond the towel. What you didn’t realize was Chan watching you eye the water.

“Are you just going to stare at me while I change?” The tone in his voice was teasing. “So what if I do?” Chan’s smile dropped as you spoke. “Don’t say things like that.” “It’s not my fault you are hormonal.” Your attention turned towards your phone as you pulled up the latest game you’ve been playing. Defeated, Chan made his way back to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. When the boy came back, you were already curled up, staring at the glowing stars wondering if he made any wishes. From the end of the bed, he crawled up towards the top not wanting you to move. Chan was the first one to fall asleep, being embarrassed took a toll on his energy. You on the other hand, stayed awake, your thoughts were filled with Chan. Was it possible that you actually liked Chan? He was a nice guy, kind, smart, talented, hot, friendly. Chan had always caught your attention every single time you were in the same area. He always stole the spotlight even when it was as simple as studying.

Sometime last night, you fell asleep. You woke up to Chan singing along to a song and putting on a shirt. “You have pretty singing.” Chan jumped and turned towards you smiling. At this point, you were already stretching. “You’re awake.” “I think I am at least.” You realised now that you’ve noticed your small crush on Chan, he seems more handsome than normal. “I want to take you to some of my favorite places since everyone is busy today.” Ultimately, you decided to get dressed in a semi-nice outfit and met him out front. “You look nice.” You were wearing a pair of jeans and a loose shirt that was tucked in the front. “Thanks, I have to dress nice so I don’t look like a potato next to you.” The two of you laughed and made your way to the car. Chan decided to start off the tour by taking you to see the park he used to go to. You ran towards the playground roundabout and jumped on. “Chan, will you spin me?” He grabbed one of the bars and pushed as hard as he could. The roundabout spun around fast and you laughed in joy.

The last few days at Chan’s house, you two grew closer as did your feelings. When the final day came, you were sad because he’s going to go back to being just your friend. Your shared kisses will be no more and he won’t think another thought about you. “I hope to see you guys back soon!” You gave Mrs.Bang one last hug, shared one last joke with Lucas and Hannah, and gave one last pet to Berry. The bags were already in the car. You almost cried when Berry tried to get in the car to go back to the apartment. It might not seem like it but the Bang family held a special place in your heart now. They made you feel like one of them. Like family. Chan waved bye and got in the car and you did the same. “This was fun. I love your family.” “They love you too. I think they liked you more than me.” You rolled your eyes at his joke. “They love you more. Don’t lie.” Chan smiled and pulled onto the main road. Once again, you were playing music but this time, you had Chan’s phone playing his music.

Chan pulled off the highway into a rest stop to use the restroom. You stepped outside to stretch your legs and arms. It was becoming dark outside due to not being able to leave until two. “You know stretching is good for you on long road trips.” “You know you are being such a dad.” He chuckled and stretched beside you. “My turn.” You walked towards the restroom sighing. You were washing your hands when a girl came in crying with her friend. Discreetly, you listened in, not that you had much choice as they were right next to you. “I should’ve said yes but I was too scared. Now he’s moved on. I’m such an idiot.” This was not the place nor the time to interject so you excused yourself from the bathroom. You were going to do it. Confess to Chan. With determination, you got in the car. “Are you oka-“ His words were cut off by your lips pressing against his. He didn’t pull back. Instead, he pulled your closer so that you were leaning across the console. You pulled back when your rib hit the corner of the centerpiece.

“Is it weird that that was a total turn on?” Honestly, you couldn’t agree more. Chan kissed you again, this time helping you settle into his lap. Your knee was pressed against the seat belt buckle but you didn’t care. You were too busy making out with Chan. He rutted his hips against you making you moan against his lips. Your fingers tugged at his hair as his hands roamed down to guide your hips against his. “C-Chan. We need to stop.” His lips attacking your skin made you forget what you were even talking about. “You can’t leave me like this. You’ve been fucking with me all week.” “Chan, we can’t. Not the right place.” Chan sighed but kissed you one last time before allowing you to go back to your seat. The sexual tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. For the rest of the drive Chan was pushing the speed limit trying to get home fast. He quickly turned into the driveway to his small house that he was renting and threw the car in park. “I’ll get the luggage.” “Screw the luggage, I want you.”

#kpop #stray kids #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan fluff #bang chan #stray kids oneshot #bang chan oneshot #bang chan suggestive #skz fanfic #skz suggestive #Chan suggestive #stray kids suggestive #chris bang

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chaoslaura · 3 years

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Can this be for Willex please. Fluff 11 “I’m so proud of you.”

If it’s ok to ask, can Alex have a bad panic attack when he’s out with Willie.

I know Alex having a panic attack has been done a few times but I always feel like once he’s gone through it, the fic just ends and I’d like to read one where Alex is really embarrassed and Willie is just so caring afterwards and really protective.

Hi hi I loved the Willex prompt you did it was so good. Can I ask for them for a prompt? Fluff 11. “I’m so proud of you” I had an idea Alex has a panic attack, it’s the first time Willie has seen it happen, Willie helps him through it and he says that to Alex

First, thanks for the kind words I’ve gotten so far.

For this prompt I have gotten two requests that were kinda similar, so I mixed them together to create one story, I hope you like it though.

Read it on AO3

Warnings: panic attack, mention of self harm (nails digging into skin)

As someone who has never experienced anxiety or panic attacks, I didn’t feel comfortable to write a full panic attack scene in case I wrote it wrong because the only things I know about it are from reading fics myself. But please feel free to talk to me if I depicted anything wrong.

In retrospect it wasn’t perfectly clear what had set it off. It wasn’t one specific event, or person, or thought, rather the whole day was just one big disaster. From the minute Alex woke up nothing was going according to plan. Which wouldn’t be catastrophic per se but on some days even a minor accident could be enough to push him over the edge, and today these accidents just kept piling on top of each other till Alex couldn’t see over the mountain.

When his phone had gone off with a beeping sound and vibrated on his bedside table and Alex peeled his eyes open, he was confused for a moment. Why wasn’t the sun shining in his face? Alex would always wake up with sunrays covering his bed and face from where he didn’t close the curtains the full way. Liking waking up with the bright sunlight. But this morning it was different.

Peeking at his phone he realized it wasn’t morning at all, that’s why. “8:30? Fuck!” Class would’ve already started by then and Alex was never late. Never. It was one of his fears. Having to come in while every student and every pair of eyes was aimed at him and the teacher was pinning him down with a reproving look and writing with red ink into the class book that he had been late. To Luke and Reggie, it would’ve just been another line next to their name, nothing unusual since they started high school, but to Alex punctuality was a sign of respect and a part of keeping his day together. He always knew when to be where, dragging his other two friends with him because as Julie once said he had their collective brain cell at all times.

With a hop Alex sprung out of bed into the bathroom. While hastily brushing his teeth, he wondered why his parents didn’t wake him up. Didn’t they notice his closed door or his shoes next to the front door? They were aware of Alex schedule; they must have been knowing he was running late so why on earth did they just left for work without waking him? Alex could’ve worried about it for hours but frankly he didn’t have time for thinking about his parent’s behaviour. Not since it changed drastically after they found out about Alex ‘habit’ to kiss guys. More precisely Willie. His boyfriend.

Not having time for dreaming about his perfect boyfriend either, Alex raced back into his room and searched through his wardrobe for his favourite sweater, the pink one, his friends nagged him to get, saying pink was really suiting him and it would piss of his parents for sure.

Coming up with nothing after searching through it for three times, he came to the daunting conclusion it must be in the laundry. It was his feel-good hoodie, it was comfy and soft and warm, and just gave him safety, he really needed it today. Resting his head on the closet door with more force than necessary, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. And one more. Come on you can survive one day without your hoodie. Alex tried to persuade himself and quickly grabbed another Shirt to put on without putting much thought into it.

He decided to skip breakfast, school lunch wasn’t that far away, and headed out of the door after making sure he had at least all the books he needed today. He always packed his bag the evening before but who knows what he could’ve missed. Standing in the front yard of the house, for the second time today, he was confused. Shouldn’t his bike be standing there? Racking his brain and shortly fearing someone stole it, it came back to him. His brother had it today since his own was in repair. Just great. Now he had to walk. Without one of his parents taking him with them in their car, without his bike, and the school bus long gone.

It wasn’t that far, but it meant he would be even later. He at least would miss the whole first period and could walk in the next classroom like everybody else and no one would give him questioning looks. Oh no Alex groaned internally; his next class was math. Right, today was Tuesday and his second period being math with Reggie. Reggie at least had an idea of what topic they covered this week, but Alex was completely lost, and he was pretty sure Mr. Smiths hated him for his lack of knowledge. He was trying, he really did, even hiring Reggie as his tutor but it just wouldn’t stick, and now he had to suffer through it while his brain was already distracted. Hopefully Mr. Smiths wouldn’t pick him today, that’s the last thing he needed.

Taking big steps to hurry up, he arrived quicker than he anticipated. Rushing in and through the hallways he stepped into the room just as the bell rang, indicating class started. Hastily taking his seat next to Reggie, he took his book out of his bag while Reggie fixated him with a questioning look, raised eyebrow and all. ‘Where have you been?’ Reggie mouthed but Alex shook his head, he would explain later. The last thing he wanted was for Mr. Smiths to catch him talking in class and getting another mark.

Even though he was physically there now, his brain decided to race in the other direction. It worked on full speed since he had woken up and concentrating on the math problem written down before him was not achievable. But to his luck Mr. Smiths left him alone and Reggie passed him notes with the right answers to which Alex threw him a grateful smile.

Finally, after two more classes he walked with Luke to the cafeteria only to discover he forgot his money at home. His wallet must be sitting on his desk. Groaning he put his head in his hands and then carded swiftly through his hair with his fingers. He was really hungry, if his grumbling stomach wasn’t indicator enough, after skipping breakfast, but without money there were no possible means to get any food.

Luke sensed Alex distress immediately. “Alex? What is it?” Oh, yeah, Alex almost forgot Luke was beside him, having zoned out completely.

“Forgot my lunch money, tis all.” He replied defeated.

“I buy you one today and you can get me something next week. Don’t worry about it.” Luke gave Alex a pat on the back and marched on towards the doors. “Are you coming or what?” He asked over his shoulder.

Alex was so grateful in that moment but quickly followed his friend.

Sitting down on the table with their plates the others were already there. Meaning Julie, Flynn, and Willie who gave him a short peck on the mouth. “Hello, hotdog.” He greeted Alex with a bright smile Alex could only compare to the sun and a warmth spread through his body, calming him down at least a little, it was a side effect that always came while being in the presence of Willie.

Reggie and Flynn were deep into a conversation about frogs to which Alex could not contribute anything, and Julie and Luke were already discussing songs they could rehearse later the day and Alex wasn’t really in the mood to interfere with them, their energy was too high for him to match right now. Leaning against Willie’s shoulder while his boyfriend scrolled through his Instagram feed on his phone Alex couldn’t help but bounce with his leg up and down. The uncomfortable feeling from this morning still settled deep in his bones and it seemed it wouldn’t leave anytime soon, and Alex knew shaking his legs wouldn’t do anything but there was no harm to try.

A ping signalled an incoming message. Fumbling for his phone in his pockets he instantly regretted pulling it out as soon as he saw the name on the screen. It was his mum and she never messaged him if it wasn’t important and recently important messages meant reminding him to behave.

Wrestling with himself for a short minute he decided to open it and skipped over the text. He must’ve zoned out for a bit because as he came back a hand was seeking out his right one and Alex realized he was biting on the skin around his nails as he did so often unconsciously. Willie took the hand in his and laced their fingers together, giving him a small smile to say he was here. Luke who was sitting on the other side of Alex laid a hand on his shaking knee. “What has gotten you today? Are you okay?” There was always worry weaved in his voice and Alex was again reminded that today isn’t a good one.

Alex didn’t like having the attention on him and he was glad that Reggie and Flynn were still deep in their conversation, knowing it wouldn’t help if they stared at him too. He knew Julie was listening, but she at least scribbled on a piece of paper what could’ve been lyrics and didn’t openly questioned him and his behaviour. Alex knew that his body always betrayed him when he was anxious, showing the tell-tale signs when he was spiralling, and he didn’t have to say anything before one of his friends gave him the opportunity to vent.

Alex sighed deeply. “Just not a good day. And my mum wrote me. My grandparents are coming by this weekend. From my fathers’ side.” Pocketing his phone again to try to get the message out of his mind, he leaned further into Willie and found a pair of arms winding around him but giving him space to breath.

“Shit.” Luke let out. He was the only one of them who had met Alex grandparents, but they all knew how much Alex despised them. Having to put on a front whenever they came around, it was just plain exhausting, and Alex wanted to push away the reminder of their visit until the day arrived.

Alex nodded to show he shared Luke’s sentiment and began to play with the rings on Willie’s finger. Today was truly one bad thing happening after the other and he couldn’t wait till he came home and could slump down on his bed and just breath for a minute before he had to start with his homework.

He asked his English teacher if he could get any extra credits since his essay only got an 80 and his parents wouldn’t be pleased with that result but what else could he do? Hide the paper till his parents found out on their own? No, he needed a plan before he would show the note to his parents and if that meant extra work, so be it.

The end of the school day didn’t come as fast as Alex had hoped, the hours dragging by and with every look to the clock, just a few minutes had passed, and it might have been the slowest time had ever gone by. The buzzing under his skin that had started not shortly after lunch when Alex couldn’t help but overthink what could happen over the weekend didn’t help his nervousness and by the time he left the school building the skin around his nails was red and bitten down and Alex knew he shouldn’t but he had done it for so long it was hard to stop the habit.

Alex decided to walk the way home, the thought of sharing his space with other students on the school bus made his skin crawl, the fresh air should help clear out his head a little bit and he could put his nervous energy into walking. The faster the better till his calves were burning. Before he turned the first corner though, he could hear someone yelling his name behind him. Spinning around in case it was one of his friends he had to discover it was not in fact one of the boys but instead John. John, a guy with the most average name and most average face, had been on his case since he came out in school and hadn’t stopped yet no matter how often Luke threatened him with a serious ‘talking’ after school or Flynn and Julie actually talked with him while letting out their frightening personas that even made Luke and Alex take a step back.

Alex wasn’t in the mood to listen to John’s comments and hastily turned around to continue his run home. Not today. It was the last thing he needed today. With all the spiralling thoughts already spinning in his head he didn’t need another person pulling all his fears to the surface.

Closing the front door behind him Alex didn’t know when or how he arrived at home, the walk was completely erased from his mind, replaced with a static in his head and he realized once he got to his room his breathing had picked up. No no no come on; you know the breathing techniques. He told himself and tried to calm himself while he sat on the ground before his bed, his bag lazily thrown into the corner.

Alex doesn’t actually know how much time had passed until he sensed someone sitting down some distance before him. The tears in his eyes made it difficult to see the room before him clearly and he could only made out the long dark hair and colourful Shirt, trying to concentrate on the pattern.

“Alex?” Willie’s tentative voice pierced through the fog in Alex mind, but he could only nod shortly to indicate he heard him. Speaking was not yet in the realm of the possible.

Some more minutes or what felt more like hours to him, but Alex knew wasn’t the case, Willie’s figure stood more clearly in front of him and the room wasn’t spinning as much. His hands were still shaking and the tear tracks on his cheek still not dried. But it was better.

Willie settled beside him now that Alex could see him. “Hey hotdog.” Alex turned his head to the voice. “Is it okay if I touch you?” Alex gave a quick jerk with the head to say yes, not quite trusting his voice yet.

Slowly and so that Alex could see it in the corner of his eye Willie took Alex hand and opened the fist it was in and turning it around to inspect the crescents indents in the palm of his hand. Deep and red against the skin, not bleeding but he had almost pierced the skin with his nails.

“I’m sorry.” Alex voice was scratchy, and he looked to where Willie was holding him, shame flooding his body as he tried to pull back his hand and hide the dents.

But Willie didn’t let him, gently holding on to the hand and closing his own around it, his attention shifting to Alex face. With his other hand he wiped the remaining tears from the splotchy cheeks and then shifted a bit to rummage through his bag that sat behind him and brought a bottle of water to light. “Here, you need something to drink.” While Alex accepted the drink with a thanks and took a few sips, Willie’s gaze never left him, but Alex realized it was filled with the same affection Willie always looked at him with and not with annoyance or nuisance as he had feared for so long, afraid of what Willie would do or say once he saw that side of him.

Alex wanted to start apologizing again when he put down the bottle, but Willie got ahead of him, “I’m proud of you.” And that put a hold on Alex thoughts because what? “Huh?” Was all that came out of Alex mouth instead from his confusion.

“I mean it. How many times did you go through this already? Even alone? I know it’s terrifying but every time you bounce back, and I think that’s noteworthy.” Willie’s thumb was brushing over the skin on his hand and Alex was almost ready to cry again because no one ever said that to him and all he could see was a bundle of mess sitting in his place in his room, in front of his bed.

“But- but now you have seen what it looks like, how can you still want to be here?” The with me was left unsaid but Alex was sure Willie got it nonetheless.

“Alex, I don’t care how messy it gets, I’m here for you, always.”

To say Alex was grateful was an understatement but then something else came to his mind and he groaned, letting his head fall back against the bed and squeezing his eyes shut, already feeling ashamed. “I forgot our date.” Willie and he were to meet at the skatepark because Willie saw some videos and wanted to recreate some stunts he found cool.

“You didn’t forget. It’s okay, really. We have enough time to catch up.”

Before he could say anything else, they could hear the front door slamming shut and Luke calling Alex name and two pair of feet were heard stamping up the stairs. Alex looked at Willie questioningly. He was perplexed as to why Willie was here but also Reggie and Luke?

Willie looked sheepishly suddenly. “I texted them when I found you here. Sorry, it was the first time seeing you like this, and I was afraid I would do something to make it worse, so I asked them to come around.”

“It’s okay.” Honestly, Alex was a bit relived. The boys knew how to handle him. Did so for years before Alex even knew what was happening with him.

Reggie stayed in the threshold to not crowd him, meanwhile Luke sat down on the other side of Alex, taking him in and examining the situation. “Hey, how are you doing? We came as soon as we got the message, but we were shopping for Julie and Reggie stopped me from ignoring the red lights.”

“Could be better, but I’m okay.” He answered honestly, he knew Luke was always the first to worry over him. But know he was worried what other stupid things besides ignoring traffic laws the boys had done to quickly come to him all the other times before today.

Luke didn’t give him time to ponder over it. “If you good to get up we can take this to the couch.” He proposed.

“Great idea. And I doubt it was ever a better time for ice cream.” Reggie said already on his way to the kitchen.

“You just want to take the opportunity to get your hands on the deluxe stuff Mrs. Mercer always buys.” Luke half yells after him and Willie snickered from where he was still sitting next to Alex, hand clasped around him. Alex meanwhile tried to gather his remaining energy to stand up with a little bit of help from Willie.

The couch was way better than the floor in his room, definitely more comfortable and providing more space for all of them. Alex was seated between Willie’s legs and leaned into his chest, a blanket over them to keep Alex warm and he really appreciated that his boyfriend didn’t left after the whole mess he had to witness. Willie who sensed Alex shift in demeanour and could feel him tensing up against him, hooked his chin over Alex shoulder and whispered in his hear so the other two couldn’t overhear them. “I love you Alex.”

Alex cheeks turned a bit red but luckily no one commented on it, Luke and Reggie were deep into an argument about the best feel-good movie, finally resting the case on Rise of the Guardians while Luke pouted in his corner of the couch that the others weren’t willing to watch Back to the Future. Again. But with a pint of ice cream in his hand, his pout quickly dissolved into a small smile and he regularly glanced beside him to make sure Alex was doing okay.

Alex was indeed content were he was, in the arms of his boyfriend, sharing the ice cream with him, breathing in the scent that relaxed him further until his eyes were almost closing on their own accord. He always got sleepy after, all energy drained from him and he slipped further into the embrace until he fell asleep after initially only wanting to rest his eyes for a bit.

Willie noticed when his boyfriend didn’t try to steel from the ice cream anymore and put it aside in favour of carding through Alex hair, making sure he was comfortable while sleeping.

Luke and Reggie were giving him a thankful smile. “Thank you for being there for him.” Reggie spoke up with much more earnest Willie was used from him.

“I didn’t do anything. I was just nervous to make it worse for him.”

Luke put a hand on his shoulder. “You couldn’t. You did great. Alex has been in a much worse state before we found him. Just stay by his side no matter what. We’re glad he has you. With his parents and these assholes from school, he needs every support he can get even though he wouldn’t admit that so outright.”

Willie smiled to himself. The boys never gave him the stern talking when Alex and him had gotten together but he had sensed the protectiveness coming from them whenever he was around the first times, only fading away after a few months, and Willie would make sure to never get on their bad sides, not that he wanted to. If it meant to stand by Alex side with his anxiety and watch animation movies (or Back to the Future five times for Luke and Star Wars seven times for Reggie) with him and the boys while eating sweets and talking nonsense to distract Alex mind for a while, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#julie and the phantoms #willex #alex mercer #willie jatp #luke patterson #reggie peters #mine #my fic

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only-here-for-jatp · 4 years

Text

Step Into My World

Your friendly neighborhood grad student is back at making the //best// choices to write late-night fanfiction when she has to get up super early.

Special shout out to @julie-and-the-phantoms-stan who came up with the idea originally and I just ran with it. This is also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26727379

What if Perfect Harmony wasn’t just Julie’s Daydream? A certain ghost also wants to dance with Julie after all.

Luke knew with one look in Julie’s eyes that everything was going to be fine. He’d known it even as she was screaming the first time they met. He knew it when he looked up at her, using his best smile trying to convince the angry teenage girl to not be too mad at them for being in her room. He knew it every time they sang, sharing a mic and the same breath, the same moment.

Most of all though, he knew it when their world was quiet. When it was him and her sitting at the piano writing music.

So even though he felt like a bundle of nerves when he showed up at Julie’s school under the guise of asking her about the song for that night, he took one look in her eyes and knew he would be able to at least try to tell her how he felt. So he smiled at her and told her a small part of the very ephemeral connection that bound his soul to hers. That she made him a better song writer.

He could swear he glowed when she dropped his qualifier. The they made each other better. She was right of course. Everything about his life was better with her in it. Every note had more clarity, every color seemed brighter, he felt more alive than he ever did when he was stranded among the living.

He wanted to stay in her calming, grounding, presence forever. He didn’t want to leave; he just wanted more time with her.

But of course she had to dance with Nick. Ugh. Nick.

He knew Nick was a nice enough guy. He played a decent guitar, supported Julie even while he was with Carrie, and like he guessed he could see why people found him adorable. Whatever. But Luke was so much cooler than the preppy lacrosse player, and so yeah being told she had to go spend time dancing with Nick stung just a little. He was human after all, which at the moment felt like the ultimate trump card to whatever advantage Luke may have or would ever have.

To be honest, it left him feeling a little grumbly.

And then of course Nick just walks up to talk with Julie as if he wasn’t standing right here. He knew Nick couldn’t see him, but still. He realizes it’s a little childish, but the dawning realization that Nick is also crushing on Julie (which he definitely didn’t recognize because he’s definitely not also crushing on Julie) gives him this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He can’t just stand here and watch this guy be so open about how much he wants to be with her. So maybe Luke mocks him just a little. He just wants to make Julie smile and remind her that he’s right here too. That if he could, he’d be dancing with her and telling her that he can’t do it without her.

In the end, she walks away to her next class, but he can’t shake off the restless feeling. He poofs back to the studio tied between wishing it wasn’t and being grateful that it was in fact empty. He felt like pacing, like twitching his fingers, as if he had to move. He had to do something.

After making three laps around the studio without any relief, he picked up his songbook with a frustrating grunt. Forcing himself to sit on the couch, he opened it to a blank page and picked up a pen. At first just scribbling on the paper, but soon everything was pouring out.

Step into my world, bittersweet love story about a girl...

It was the fastest he’d ever written a song. Like it had already been there out in the universe and he just happened to be borrowing it for the time being. For a while he just stared at it, the depths of his feelings that he hadn’t fully realized glaringly obvious. But he couldn’t. What exactly was he supposed to do with this?

He didn’t know how to feel or what to think. Was there even a chance of anything?

He knew one thing for certain though, he needed to see Julie. He needed to look in her eyes, even if she didn’t realize he was there, so that he could ground himself. So he could reassure himself that whatever he did with this song and these feelings wouldn’t break this bond that they already had.

Before he could even finish the thought, he found himself in Julie’s gym class. Apparently, he wished for her so hard, that he automatically poofed to wherever she was. He chuckled slightly to himself, wishing he could say this was the first time.

Hiding himself slightly, he sought her out. It didn’t take long, he seemed to be able to subconsciously sense her as if a tether tied them together. He smiled as he took her in, glowing a little since dance was one of her favorite classes. That black dress really looked good on her.

Looking at her joy, he wished more than anything he could share it with her. That he could steal her away for just a few moments of alone time. He wasn’t that great of a dancer, but he would give anything in that moment to be her partner and putting that smile on her face.

He snuck up behind the mirrors, doing his best to stay out of sight, but with his mind clouded with wishes and hopes he stumbled. He reached out to the mirror to steady himself and instead found himself sinking into it.

An idea raced through his brain, faster than he could think it through, of a way to steal a moment in time with Julie. He could tell her everything she meant to him and then return her right to where she’d started. He just hoped it worked.

He slipped into the mirror, gaping at the hidden world around him. Yet, he could still look out and see Julie in her class. She was smiling at Nick and for a brief moment he hesitated. Her voice reverberated through the mirror world though, and he had to smile when she heard Julie call Nick his name. His name. And with that, he stopped hesitating, wishing himself into clothes fancy enough to match her dress.

Impatiently, Luke waited for just the right moment. Then Julie turned to look in the mirror and it was like she could see him, so he stepped out and started singing…

Step into my world….

He reached out and brought her into the mirror world with him. Surprised everything was going to plan. He kept singing to her as she looked around wide eyed, adjusting to the movements. They watched their hands pass through each other once. Twice. This had to work, he’d made it this far.

Her warmth hit him first, overwhelming him, travelling up his arms and racing through his veins. It was like he could feel everything in the world all at once, and then she leaned into him. As if this moment was everything to her too. Then she started to move.

For the death of him, he couldn’t say how he knew the moves that were coming out of him. And when he heard her voice singing his song that he’d written down earlier, he could’ve sworn he gained the power to fly. This little fantasy suddenly felt like it was way more than just his, as if Julie Molina in all her wonder had stepped into his world and made it her own.

He smiled at that thought, because he knew that she had. Beyond just the mirror world, she’d come in and reshaped everything into a beautiful picture. As if she were the missing piece that not only made his world spin, but the band’s too. Sunset Curve might’ve been legends, but Julie and the Phantoms were going to take the world by storm.

The song ended much too quickly for his liking. He’d had her hands in his and for a brief moment known what it felt like to hold her in his arms. To say those few moments started an addiction was an understatement. He wanted more and again, but Nick and her dance class were waiting, and he didn’t want to push his luck with whatever magic was allowing him this stolen moment.

Luke spun her back out of the mirror and watched as she opened her eyes to Nick- returning right to the moment from where she’d left. Even though they were no longer touching, he could still feel her warmth coursing through him. He smiled and poofed back to the studio, they had a gig to prepare for after all.

----------------------------

Julie felt herself blinking up at Nick.

What just happened? Nobody seemed to have noticed her going missing or dancing with air. But she could still feel the electricity racing up and down her veins, still feel her lungs attempting to fill themselves after the breathlessness. More than that, she could still hear his voice singing softly into her ear as he held her close. As if she was the one who might break or vanish.

She shook her head, bringing herself back to the present and out of what had been the most vivid daydream she’d ever had. She needed to escape and get this song out of her head. Flynn would find her later she was sure and help her sort through whatever that was. With a deep breathe she ran, the lyrics still floating through her head.

We create a Perfect Harmony

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #jatp fanfic #perfect harmony #but what if it were real

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rendezvousrenjun · 4 years

Text

address | p.jisung

✩ Time seems to fly by when you catch feelings for a mutual friend who also so happens to be your physics partner, and potential love partner. ✩ fluff + humor | 4.29k words | friends to lovers!au | beware! some cussing :(

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry I’m late-- oh!” You are thrown off-guard by the tall boy standing next to your friend, holding a large popcorn with both of his hands.

You were running late. Your friend Chenle had invited you to watch a movie this evening, and unfortunately you had overslept from your nap; waking up in a haste to get to the theater before the trailers were over.

Chenle may have told you about the new movie you guys were seeing, but he did not inform you of meeting a new person.

“Oh! I totally forgot to introduce you two, y/n,” he pauses to point to his popcorn-holding-friend, “this is Jisung,” he points back to you, “Jisung, this is y/n.”

Jisung reaches his right hand over to you, but retracts it back to awkwardly wipe some popcorn grease on his jeans. You smile at him as you two shake hands for the first time, his hand being firm and clumsy while engulfing yours. He forms a tight smile back at you while Chenle grabs the popcorn before it spills over entirely.

That was the first time you met Jisung.

You honestly did not know why you signed up for a physics class; it was the last semester of the year and you had rushed picking out classes, which was a mistake as you soon realized none of your friends were taking it with you.

Accepting your fate, you open the door to reveal the dimly lit classroom, quickly scanning for an empty seat. The moment you saw Jisung sitting alone, hunched over his phone, cross-legged, the stool next to him open, your instinct was to go over to him and plop right down.

“Uh..Hi Jisung..” You place your backpack down on the floor cautiously, making sure not to hit his leg.

“Oh Hi y/n..” He straightens up and removes one of his earbuds to look over your direction, raising his eyebrows to acknowledge you.

You let out a sigh, your body releasing some tension, “I’m glad you’re in this class I literally do not know anyone else.”

His posture becomes more relaxed as well, leaning closer to you, “Oh my gosh! Me too I was lowkey panicking dude--”

There’s a small exchange of relieved giggles before the teacher introduces himself.

Meeting Jisung the second time was pure luck.

And because of those two encounters you couldn’t deny that you had developed a bit of a crush. Everyday you had something to look forward to, with Jisung by your side during these painstaking long physics lessons.

Some days when the teacher wasn’t looking, Jisung would pass you notes despite the fact you two were literally shoulders apart.

↬ i have a good joke lol: what is your house wearing >.<???

You look at the small crumpled note slid over to you before looking back up at Jisung who was pretending to pay attention on what was on the board, his eyebrows crinkled and his pencil jotting down scribbles into the notebook he had ripped the small piece of paper from. When you whisper a harsh “what?” at him, he ignores you and shoots the piece of paper a glance with an expectant smile. You roll your eyes jokingly and click your pen to scribble down:

↬ what (ง •̀_•́)ง

↬ ADDRESS haHAHAHA get it

You watch him try to fight the laughter that was bubbling up inside him by looking down at his notebook, making you blush at his corny reaction.

Your teacher clears his throat, making both of your heads snap back up. He was currently going over the agenda for next week-- including a huge project that was worth a good portion of your grade. Again, you were thankful to have Jisung in this class, because much to your dismay, it was a group project.

“Jisung” you whisper, gesturing for him to come closer to hear you better, “wanna be my partner?”

He takes a moment to look at you, blinking and expressionless. You tilt your head a little, silently asking for his response. He comes even closer to you, making you scoot your body back a bit to make sure he couldn’t see the red that was creeping up your neck from his gaze.

“y/n.”

“Mm?”

“If I’m not your partner who else would want to be?”

“Oh my fucking--”

Your teacher looks over at you and clears his throat again while you straighten up. Under the table, Jisung squirms at the feeling of you pinching his thigh.

The next week passes too fast. You and Jisung have done absolutely nothing regarding the project.

“Yo yo JISUNG pwwwwwwak!” you say throwing down your bag in a hurry-- grabbing your stool to place it in an even closer distance.

“Hmmm?” Jisung doesn’t even look up at you, totally engrossed with the game on his phone.

“Can we please work on the project tomorrow?”

A couple of taps later, he dies and places his phone on the desk in a disappointed manner.

“Tomorrow…” Jisung trails off and squints at a random space between you two, “what’s the date today?”

“February fourth-- why? Are you busy? It’s okay if you can’t… I just thought we should get it done fast since it’s time consuming and the deadline is literally in three days…”

“Well, um, I’m not really busy-- where are we working on it?”

“Is my house okay..?? Kind of early in the morning so we can finish before sun down..?”

“That’s cool with me just text me your address--ADDRESS AHAHA”

“Not this again--” You facepalm, but deep down you must admit it was adorable of him to laugh at his own joke.

Jisung ended up arriving an hour or so later than the time you had originally scheduled.

When you opened the door he gave you an apologetic smile, the one where his cheekbones and gums show on his face. You resist the need to poke his tiny dimple.

“Hi” he raises a hand and wiggles his fingers halfheartedly.

“Hey” you mirror him, laughing off the fond feeling that started to grow in your stomach.

He squeezes past your front door and removes his shoes before entering. You follow behind him, a bit anxious at the thought of having a boy alone in your house. He shuffles awkwardly near your dining room table where you had set up all the materials in order to not waste any time. You look away for one second, about to go into the kitchen to offer him apple juice, but he grabs the exacto knife, activating your fight or flight instinct-- so you proceed to swiftly take it from his hand. He scrunches his nose at you, sitting down afterwards.

“We should play some music dude.” Jisung puts down his pencil and paper after sketching out the structure of your wooden tower. It has been a solid hour of working in silence, you two sitting side by side like how you always do in class. To your surprise, Jisung had concentrated really well on doing his part of the project while you started using sandpaper to get rid of the rough edges of the wood.

“Sure, play whatever song you want.”

“Mmmkay” He hits shuffle on his playlist, “And You?” by Dean starts playing at full blast, making the atmosphere less professional. You start zoning out while working again, but snap out of it when Jisung starts humming and singing along to the song. You feel his shoulder start grazing yours as he moves his upper body to the beat, making you smile to yourself.

As time goes by you and Jisung end up straight up vibing to the music, getting up to scream lyrics at the top of your lungs, or even shimmy-ing along to whatever was playing. But eventually you two stopped the music in order to focus, laughter and messing around getting out of hand.

Cutting up balsa wood in tiny increments was also very stressful and the amount of patience you two needed to muster was almost impossible. But the best thing about having a partner for this project is that you don’t have to deal with the stress alone. Hearing Jisung get frustrated, or randomly just throw his exacto knife on the table dramatically to get up and rub his temples made you ease up and get less tense. It was comforting not to be alone.

What did start to bother you was Jisung continuously touching his bangs to remove them from his line of vision. Every couple minutes he would place whatever was in his hand down just to brush them up.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back just wait.” You skip to your room to grab a flower hair-clip, hiding it behind your back to present it with a little “ta-da” to Jisung.

“This hair clip is for you~”

“Oh wow thank you!” He tries clipping it to his head, but can’t seem to get it to stick, his long fingers unable to snap it down.

“Let me do it” you offer your hand out for him to place the clip back into your palm. He watches every move you do, his fingers playing in his lap as you look down at him sitting. The feeling of his hair is soft, as you gently take his bangs in a clump, putting them up. His eyes meet yours and you have to look back at the clip before your heart thumps any louder.

You clear your throat to fight off the feeling, “wow Jisung your head is kinda big.” The snap of the clip following after your random statement.

“Hey it’s embarrassing--” he grabs a hold of your wrist to make you look at him pouting about his big head.

“But big heads are nice--”

It takes a second or two for you both to realize what you just said, Jisung hysterically laughing, releasing your wrist and leaving it feeling warm.

“I’d honestly rather have a small head!”

“OH WHATEVER JISUNG”

Around five o’clock pm Jisung cuts his finger. In fact, he’s cut and broken a lot of things today due to his clumsiness, causing you to have to buy more wood. But at this point you weren’t even thinking due to the amount of brain numbing that gluing thin pieces of wood has been. So out of concern you instinctively reach out and start blowing on Jisung’s index finger. He tries to retract it at first, a bit surprised by the skinship, but relaxes when you look back up at him.

“Let’s wash it follow me.”

“Do you still have those minion bandaids you bring to school?”

“Yes.”

“Can you put one of them on me?”

“Of course.”

After wrapping Jisung’s little boo-boo you two decide you needed a well deserved break. Jisung simply places himself along your living room couch, taking up the entire space, acting as if this was his own home.

“Ya! Move over, I wanna lay down too.”

“No! Just lay on the ground here” Jisung pats the ground with his dangling arm while his eyes remain closed, dream-land already a couple minutes away.

“I’m just going to lay on top of you then.”

Jisung immediately snaps his eyes open and lays so that his chest touches the couch’s interior and his back is turned to you in order to make space. You jump onto the couch, making the weight shift, but he doesn’t even budge. The space is tight, but you two are too tired to care.

You may have accidentally fallen asleep because the next thing you knew was Jisung shaking you awake. When your eyes flutter open your hazy vision rests on Jisung who can’t look at you straight in the eye because, as Jisung says

“we practically napped together y/n…..”

You just laugh at him as he tries to climb over your body so he can go back to the wood gluing, embarrassed because he maybe, just maybe may have hugged you in his sleep.

At eight o’ six pm you find out that Jisung’s parents aren’t able to pick him up right away after school.

“So you’re telling me you have to wait a whole hour just to go home?”

“Yea and it’s really boring to wait at the back of the school because I kind of-- I guess,,, just stand there until I see my car roll up??”

It was an impulsive decision to suggest that he walk with you to your house everyday and get picked up here instead of waiting at school for an hour. But words ended up leaving your mouth faster than your brain could stop you, emotions getting the best out of the situation. At first Jisung did not like the idea.

“I don’t want to bother you or your family though--”

“Jisung you don’t bother me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yea! Just meet me at my last class everyday so we can start walking together.”

“But like… are you SURE SURE?”

“Yes!! Honestly it’s better this way, I didn’t like walking home alone everyday either. It’s a win-win situation.”

“Mmmkayyyyyyyyy if you say-so….” he gives you that gummy smile again.

It was already nine o’ nine pm and Jisung’s parents still weren’t here to pick him up. You two ended up cleaning up after the “walking-home-together” discussion, sitting on the couch to relax and discuss whatever came to mind.

“What’s my name on your phone?” You ask him while he responds to the text message from his parents telling him they’re on their way.

“y/n”

“Wow Jisung”

“Well what do you want it to be?”

“Mmm… how bout ‘the angel who saved me from being extremely bored for a solid hour for five days a week’?”

“No.”

“Fine.”

“I’m getting a text hold up.”

“You got a lot of texts today, I didn’t know you were this popular.”

“Nah I got most of the texts this morning when I woke up.”

“Wait what? Why this morning?”

“Oh… well..it’s because it’s my birthday.”

“IT’S YOUR WHAT NOW???!!???”

“My… birthday??”

“JISUNG….what??? YOUR WHAT??? Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t “busy”??? The fuck Jisung?? WAIT WHAT??? Let me GIVE YOU SOMETHING OH MY GOD!!!! Happy birthday oh my--”

“It’s okay y/n…oH and now you’re running to the kitchen okay nevermind”

You ended up grabbing an oreo and a candle, then shoving them in front of Jisung in a haste to sing a very terrible rendition of the happy birthday song as Jisung simply looks at you and chuckles, placing his hands to cover his face because in this moment you were so endearing and unbelievably cute. He would never admit that though.

“Thank you, thank you,” he claps his hands in a way so that they don’t make a lot of noise.

“I’m sorry you had to spend your birthday with me doing a stupid physics project.”

“No no it’s okay I’m glad I spent my day like this,” he pauses to contemplate what he was going to say next, “with you.”

“Really?”

“Yea it was fun!”

You could’ve sworn you could hear your heart thumping loud enough for Jisung to hear, but maybe that was just his phone ringing.

“I gotta go now, see you soon--- and uh thank you for the cookie,,, and today.”

The moment your front door is shut, you dial up Chenle’s number and proceed to ask him why he didn’t bother to mention that it was in fact, Park Jisung’s birthday. In which he responds with a crisp, “aHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA.”

The results for the project were handed out the following week, you and Jisung scoring a solid 92 out of 100. Jisung had impulsively hugged you out of excitement, realizing only after he had you in his arms. You can smell his laundry detergent from his sweater, and feel his body warmth, all of it feeling so welcoming. He lets go of you fast, awkwardly putting both his hands up for a double-high five instead.

Walking home with Jisung became a routine. Him scaring you outside your sixth period everyday also became a routine. Him being in your life was simply what became both of your normals, and it would be difficult to go back to how it was before you two met up for that project.

Chenle had suggested watching another movie together since this time it wouldn’t be as awkward, in which all of you unanimously agreed to go.

You and Jisung show up together, as it was a Friday after school. Jisung excuses himself to the bathroom before you guys enter the theater while you wait for Chenle outside. Your phone buzzes with a message from Chenle himself.

↬ y/nnn i’m sorryyyyy ↬ why what happened?? ↬ something came up i cant make it i hope you two arent still waiting for me :((( ↬ awww it’s okay… ↬ but u should thank me ↬ why ↬ now u and jisung are able to go on a date MWAHAHAH ↬ shUT up

Jisung comes out of the bathroom and you explain the situation to him, fumbling to lock your phone before he could see any of the messages. You two make your way inside, getting your tickets and debating on different snacks.

You look over to see Jisung holding a large popcorn and your heart swells in your chest, remembering the very first time you had laid eyes on him. Remembering how far you two have come. He smiles at you before you grab the popcorn out of his hands.

During the movie, you can’t seem to focus; Chenle’s texts swarming your mind as you nervously glance over at Jisung from time to time. His eyes are fixated on the screen, a glow brushing over his cheeks. You admire how his face easily expresses how he feels on certain parts: eyebrows furrowing occasionally, his mouth agape in surprise, it all shows. He feels you staring and glances back at you before you look down at the popcorn in his hands and take a fistful to stuff in your mouth. He almost chokes at your reaction, covering his mouth before he starts laughing and people give him weird looks.

Jisung had failed his math exam on the following Monday as thoughts of you from the movies occupied his mind instead. It was bad. You were too cute for his own good.

Upon finding this out -- excluding what he thought about you -- you had suggested a spa day for the two of you in order to de-stress.

“For the hour at my house today can you actually stay for a bit longer so that we can have a skincare day?”

“Why???”

“I think you gotta pamper yourself more Jisung! Take care of yourself better!”

When you two arrived, the first thing you did was bring Jisung into your bathroom to wash your faces together. He fiddles with the cleanser before smearing it all over his face, making you laugh uncontrollably at how funny he looked.

“Okay after cleansing we gotta do toner!”

“What’s toner? Isn’t that the thing people use for printers?”

“Well it’s-- never-mind let me just put it on your face.”

You apply it onto a cotton pad before wiping it gently across Jisung’s skin. His skin was already so glowy, it made you somewhat envious. A strand of your hair keeps falling down while you lean over Jisung’s face as he sits on your closed toilet. Jisung continues to watch your hand move across his temples and the slope of his nose bridge before allowing his eyes to wander down to your wrist, then your arm, then your face. He naturally reaches out to your face with his pointer finger and gingerly tucks away the strand of hair. He allows his finger to linger there for a second, before placing it back down. The thumping of your heart makes you believe it could break out of your ribcage and onto his lap any second now. He clears his throat, not able to look at you in the eye again, before you finish applying the toner.

The previous incident is soon forgotten as the two of you ended up taking an excessive amount of selfies and embarrassing photos in face masks. Since Jisung had asked his parents to pick him up later you guys decided to take a nap while waiting for the masks to completely soak in. By now, Jisung and you have grown so comfortable with each other that napping together was an unspoken normality. This was okay between friends right?

When you open your eyes, Jisung is looking down at you fondly half-asleep. You think that you could fall asleep to the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat every time, an ASMR only you could hear. He starts playing with your fingers absent-mindedly while you adjust to the situation.

“You smell good today.” Your voice is still a bit harsh from waking up. “So I don’t smell good everyday?” “Whatever Jisung.”

He softly chuckles and continues to play with your pinkie for a bit.

“You smell good too.”

Time ticked quicker than you were able to grasp it. The school year was suddenly already over before you knew it. On the last day of school Jisung had asked if you wanted to go to the amusement park with him, which you obviously agreed to.

There was still some unexpressed feelings between you and Jisung. Although you mutually somehow knew there was something there.

You guys ended up running around the park like a bunch of chickens without heads, having the time of your lives now that summer was upon you. Jisung had bought you guys iced tea while you were in the restroom, but since he only had enough change for one you guys ended up drinking from the same bottle. As you two went along, excited exchanges between you two also flew by.

“Let’s win that huge mouse plushie!!!”

“I’ll win it for you Jisung just sit back and watch.”

And you did. You won him that mouse plushie.

“Actually--shoot-- we should’ve ridden all the rides first before playing the games so we don’t have to carry around the prizes until we go home.”

“That’s actually smart… too bad you didn’t think of it earlier.”

“Can we ride the moominator first though???”

“I can’t ride roller coasters, they’re so scary!!”

“Well sucks to suck Jisung seeya I’m going to ride it…. BUY ME A CHUrrO in the meantime!”

“I DON’T HAVE ANY MORE MONEY!”

The sun began to set, and so did the energy you two had left. Jisung had suggested you guys ride a sky glider to watch the amazing view, and although you reject the idea due to your fear of heights you end up in the cart anyways.

“So you’re telling me you’re scared of rollercoasters but not sky gliders?”

“So you’re telling me you’re scared of sky gliders and not rollercoasters?” Jisung retorts back cheekily.

“Ya! You could literally die if this cord snaps okay? One little shake and we’re DEAD JISUNG. D-E-A-D!”

“Oh really?” you should’ve never have given Jisung the idea to shake the cart that contained the two of you, because now he was vigorously swinging his body.

You don’t say anything because your body is frozen still--the pit of your stomach creating a nest of nerves; your body filling itself with chills as the only thing stopping you from plummeting to your doom is the one thin horizontal railing.

Jisung misplaces his hand on the railing, slipping it over to your side of the cart, his body weight tilting it ever-so-slightly, causing you both to simultaneously freak out. You tightly grip Jisung’s arm, turning your head to look at him in full panic-mode, only then do you realize how close you two are.

Jisung becomes aware of the small space between you two as well, his grip on the railing that’s enclosing you getting even tighter than your grip on his arm. You see the sweat that begins to form at the corner of his forehead and the way he gulps when looking at you directly in the eyes.

“Ar-ar-aree y-you- o-ka-kay..??” he manages to stutter out, body never leaving the proximity of yours.

You two are trapped in this position. In the sky. The end far down.

You look at his eyes, and his slightly scrunched nose, and the way his mouth starts to form a thin line by pressing his lips together-- then your eyes revert themselves to the entirety of his face.

You would hate to admit it, but in that moment you thought maybe Jisung was hiding stars in his eyes.

You’re watching him, and it almost seems like he’s sliding even closer to you-- as if physically possible. Then, with the blink of an eye, in the heat of the moment, Jisung practically headbutts you in the face with his lips on your lips; giving himself whiplash as he breaks away from you surprised as if he didn’t just do that.

You both gasp and cover your mouths like little school children who had just learned about a silly secret.

“Oh my gosh” you mumble into your hands, and Jisung simply covers his entire face with his big ass hands.

You reach over and take his hands into yours before you peck him again. This time when you observe his face, the blush had crept up all the way to the tips of his ears to the point they were burning red.

He’s so embarrassed he squeals and covers his face again. This time he’s the one who squeaks into his palms, “again!”

He grabs your hot cheeks into his equally sweaty palms and presses his lips against yours, this time not as harshly and without the whiplash.

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alias-b · 4 years

Text

sins of my youth. 001

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hey!!! I'm definitely not giving up on LFTM, I've had this story whirling around my brain and it's been pulling at me for a while. Hoping I can slow down, care for myself, and juggle both fics at my own pace. Thank you guys for reading and for being so supportive. I hope everyone who enjoyed WTL also enjoys this fic, it's a totally different direction. I'm excited to share it! I'll tag warning in each chp like I always too. TW: Light bullying, hints at an inappropriate relationship between a teacher/student, and teenage jerks.

Chapter 1: Fast Times

A blaring bell trilled. Lunch time. So close and yet so far. Scrambling high schoolers like zoo animals clamored into the cafeteria. Knocking shoulders and bouncing around. No one really cared about knowledge today, the last day of school before winter break began.

1984. Coming to a close.

“Evie!” A hand rose to wave. One pink scrunchie around the elegant wrist. Heather Holloway. Cute as a button smiling there. Hands pulled headphones down to acknowledge her. Evangeline Fenny. Best friends since the sandbox and now seniors. “This stupid day is dragging.”

“It’s killing me.” Evie whined to herself, settling her beat up lunchbox on the table. Red and blue pattern, scribbled all over with song lyrics in black marker. “Mrs. Stockard fell asleep at her desk, I wanted to die.”

“She snores so loudly.” Heather sparkled when she laughed, sweeping her hair back into a high ponytail with her scrunchie. Evie held a mirror up for her to see out of habit. “Thanks.” It was particularly louder than usual. Teens pregaming the parties to come over the two week vacation.

“Going skiing with the folks this year?”

“No, they’re going up to the cabin and I’m staying home after Christmas.” Heather unpacked her lunch, carefully organizing it. Evie pulled a regular PB and J out, amused.

“Sushi?”

“My mom’s going through a phase.” Heather poured herself a bit of soy sauce and plucked up chopsticks.

“Your rich is showing, Heath.” Evie giggled when a foot kicked at her under the table.

“Trade you a piece for half the pear.”

“Deal.” They switched. Evie tucked some unruly dark curls aside, sitting back.

“So...there is a party tonight. Loch Nora. Bunch of schools.”

“Which ones?” Evie’s brow rose.

“Ridgemont will probably crash, but who cares. It’s winter break, we’ll go and have some fun then crash at my place. Eat chips, make fun of them, and pass out like we always do.” Heather bounced a little. “C’mon, Evie. I’ll pick you up and we can walk from my house.”

“I’ll think about it.” That meant yes to Heather. She grinned, reaching across to pat her friend’s arm playfully.

“It’ll be fun.”

Evie just whined and crunched on her pear, brows scrunching. Parties weren’t the same since the incident. But, she picked the popular, social butterfly for her closest friend.

The two couldn’t have been any more different.

Heather Holloway. Rich girl from Loch Nora befriending Evangeline Fenny, a Cherry Lane girl, in preschool. They switched beaded hair ties and the rest was history. Bonded over music and fashion. Heather was classically stunning as if she jumped off a magazine.

Students used to make snide comments. That Heather kept Evie around because she made her look prettier. Sweet Heather shut that down. Loudly. Whenever the subject came up. Evie Fenny was a bigger girl. Plush. Fat. It wasn’t a dirty word. She was a strange and pretty teen who carried herself too high to be bothered with comments.

Water off a duck’s back was the saying.

Used to be she hid herself under big sweaters, tunics, and flared jeans. But, that was before the incident. Afterward, she came to school with a new haircut. Louder makeup. Even louder, fitted clothing. Flaunted the hourglass and caught eyes on her hips swaying. Sat next to Heather at lunch as if nothing had changed. Red glossed lips only smiled and the student body took to her. Those who stayed angry burned alone.

Thick skin, no pun intended.

“If that asshole Tannen shows up, I’m dipping.” Evie decided with one breath.

“I’d say that I’ll protect you, but you made your point last year.”

Ah, the incident.

“I’m never going to live that down.”

“It was legendary.” Heather beamed, crushing her fist into her opposite palm. “Bam. Prick went down. My friend is Wonder Woman. Super Bitch.”

Evie broke to laugh, eyes rolling.

“Truthfully, I don’t recall it all.”

That was a lie, she remembered every second of it. Sometimes her knuckles warmed at the thought.

“I just...didn’t think you had moves like that. Your mom is basically Dolly Parton. You don’t even like violence. You squirm during horror flicks. You love your cat, your guitar, and all plant life...and you beat the hell out of Ridgemont’s golden boy asshole quarterback.”

It did earn Evie some Hawkins’ fame. Ridgemont was their main rival. The Bulldogs. Football players found a soft spot for the teen.

“Don’t tell my mom she’s Dolly Parton, that’ll go straight to her head.” Evie joked, popping her water bottle open to drink. Heather’s big eyes lifted behind her.

A flood of cologne wafted before two fingers tugged a curl. Little harder than they should have. Water choked to spill onto Evie’s chest.

“Whoops, you got all wet, Fenny.” A tongue clicked. Billy Hargrove slid around the table. All his glory. Heather plucked up a napkin to offer it.

“Watch it, Hargrove.” She huffed down at herself. The yellow tee tucked into her jeans was soaked through.

“Girls can’t help it around me, I guess.” He had one hand in his pockets and another cradling his silver lighter. Flicking it open and closed. Eyes narrowed. “Polka dots, huh. I had you figured for florals.”

“You’re an asshole.” She covered her damp shirt and bra with her striped cardigan. Thick fall colors warmed her skin. Noted the fact that he'd thought about it.

“Whatever you say, Ivy.”

Billy knew her name. They were neighbors. Unfortunately. Right down to sharing the same space between their bedroom windows. She’d had dinner at their house. Susan Hargrove was new and eager to make some friends and Ms. Fenny was eager to be friends with everyone. Perfect match.

Evie glared up at him. Fucking Adonis.

“Heather, you going tonight?” He ignored his neighbor and leaned over with one palm on the table, back to Evie as he sat down to flash that darling smile.

“Maybe.” Heather gestured with her chopsticks.

“I can work with maybe.” He acted like the girl behind him wasn’t there. Frankly, Evie was used to being invisible. It was better than being bullied. Most days. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Maybe you apologize to my friend and say her name right.” Heather winked at him.

“Who?” Billy stood and turned, mocked some surprise. “Oh. Evangeline. So quiet, I forgot you, chica.”

She wasn’t sure if that was a jab at her mixed heritage or him just being a smartass. Billy rolled her name off his tongue like it was a joke. Like it wasn’t a real word. Blue eyes alight at her stony expression. Sly and alert.

The California transfer vibrated after leaving the basketball team before the season ended. Word was that he was persuaded to leave after some fight with Steve Harrington. Billy was a strange one too.

Often, he seemed lax when he was alone like the world didn’t matter. Other days, he was rocking and quick on his feet. Hungry and itching for something. Anything. It was a scary look on such a pretty boy. You could never gauge where his mind was. Where it would go next.

“Evangeline.” He sounded out again even slower. “Your mom lose a bet?”

“It’s a poem.” She replied flatly, sitting back to cock her head at him. Billy snapped his fingers to point.

“Sounds like the name of some chick whose man died in her arms.”

She huffed at him, leaning in.

“...That would be what the poem is about.”

“Fucking depressing.” Billy tapped his chin. “I got it. I’m going to call you, Angel. I won’t forget that.”

“You are not calling me-”

“Trying to compromise with you, Fenny. You cast the first stone.” Billy flicked his eyes to Heather. “Bring your friend with you to the party, Heather. Some guys like angel cake.” He winked and slunk off to his band of merry assholes. This school worshiped him. Kissed the ground he walked on since he started in fall.

“What a fucking slimeball.” Evie grumbled to herself, stuffing trash aside to ball it up. Thought about tossing it at Billy's big head. Heather gave this conflicted look as if to say, but he’s cute, right?

“Ignore him.”

“Bad enough his family moved in next to me.” They packed up their lunches. “God, I want a smoke so bad.”

She didn’t keep the habit up just to save her singing voice. Her mom picked up cigarettes only after the divorce last year. Smoked out her window and hid it, but Evie knew. No judgment there. Better than other habits moms pick up after divorces.

“I’ll pick you up at seven tonight?” Heather walked out with her after the bell rang.

“Yeah, I’ll see you in fifth.” Evie turned to go to her locker and stuffed the lunchbox away. Grabbed a book to hurry to class. History. Three more periods left. Students fidgeted around her.

“Hey, Evie.” Steve Harrington batted his eyes at her. Friendly enough these days after he left the popular cliche and broke up with Nancy Wheeler. Sometimes having your heart stopped on made you nicer. Not always. “You, ah, do the paper?”

“All six pages.” Evie set it on her desk. “You?”

“I made an attempt.” It was strange because Steve never gave her the time of day before this year. Maybe the guy was lonely. He tapped his pencil and the chatter quieted when their teacher walked in. Late as always.

“Class, pass your papers to the front.”

“Hopefully they don’t come back with red wine stains.” Robin mumbled behind her, one leg crossed up so she could draw on the rubber side of her sneakers. Evie caught a snort, taking the papers to pass them along. “I like the jacket.”

“Thanks. New haircut?”

“My own dad didn’t notice.” Robin beamed.

“Psst, Evie.” A note flicked on her desk. Tammy Thompson. Pretty girl, kind of shy. “To Steve.”

Evie considered herself a professional middle man for lovesick note passing. Discreetly, she gave it to Steve, head cocking. He furrowed his brow upon seeing it, but wrote back.

Whatever the reply, it made Tammy’s shoulders fall.

AP Biology was next. Teacher treated it like his kingdom and didn’t pose much of a challenge because he was disorganized as hell. Evie was relieved to share the class with Heather.

Billy, Tommy, and Carol also had it too. Hargrove bitched for a week about how the other science classes had no openings. Strange because he wasn’t an idiot. Still got his work in and maintained a B average. Probably due to his dad. Neil Hargrove seemed like a real hardass. And all of Cherry Lane had heard him and Billy arguing at some point.

Evie might have also witnessed some more physical spats through the windows.

She figured it was why Billy hated her. She knew something about him. Something he hid because it made him feel smaller. He caught her eyes once and barked nastily before taking off in his Camaro. A gust of smoke.

She never brought it up.

Dads could be real assholes.

“Watch the movie. Fill out the worksheet.” Their teacher was as ready for this day to be over as the students were. Lights went down. Yawns followed. Evie propped her elbow up on the high lab table she shared with Heather, doodling new lyrics between answering questions.

A crumpled paper hit her hair. Stuck into brown curls. Heather turned back to glare at Tommy shrugging with a sleazy grin.

He was no artist. Evie smoothed it for a wide, big lipped and breasted caricature of herself. She drew on it and scribbled a note back. Smiling sweeter when she flicked it at his chest. Carol and Billy leaned in on either side to see Tommy’s expression sour because Evie gave him nothing.

“You got my hair all wrong.” She’d written. Fixing it for him.

Billy snorted and turned back to defacing his textbook.

“Bitch.” Tommy muttered to himself, tossing it away. Evie finished her sheet, dug for her compact to reapply a lip color. Caught Billy behind her. Intent on whatever vulgar drawing his mind was concocting. Blue eyes flicked like he’d been aware of her this entire time.

The mirror snapped shut.

** ** **

Study hall. Last period of the day. Most kids who had it were skipping out early during the hour. Slipping away one by one through the library. Evie was one of those kids.

“Leaving so soon, Miss Fenny?” The smooth as silk voice lowered, startled her enough to drop her notebooks and folders.

“Fr...Mr. Bowers.” Evie dropped before her English teacher standing so close to her. Second period. Been in Hawkins three years teaching the junior and senior classes. Fredrick Bowers. Dream of a man to all the teen girls. “Sorry.” She bit her bottom lip, eyes lifting to see him and his shadow blocking the light from touching her.

“No, I’m sorry, Evie. I figured you’d heard me coming.” Sky blue eyes centered on Evie there before he came to one knee. Helped her gather lose papers strewn about.

Mr. Bowers had a name and face all the teen girls drew little hearts around in pink gel pen.

Evie thought she saw those same cartoon hearts bubbling up behind his back. Popping like gum. Styled toffee blond locks, trimmed mustache, and groomed side burns. A simple patterned shirt tucked into fitted slacks with the sleeves rolled up. Never a tie. Something groovy about him that stuck from the seventies. Mid thirties and hell of a smile.

Evie tucked hair aside, displayed her blush in full view obscenely when he flashed those sparkly whites at her. Eyes crinkling.

“I’ll warn you next time.”

Her heart plucked like a song when their fingers brushed. Dashing and broad. A Jane Austen character come to life. Enough to make any young girl melt. And how quickly she did.

“Next time.” Evie gave this scoff. Pulling her notes close as they both came to their feet with hard intent eyes.

"I wanted to give you something. A book to read over the break." He pulled it from his leather messenger bag and peered around.

"An assignment?" Evie sparkled at him so he was lighter.

"No, it's just because I believe you're so clever and mature. I think you'll read it with an open mind and we can talk about it like we talked about all the others. It's complicated material. I, ah, really shouldn't be giving you this book." He offered it. "But, there were quite a few I wasn't allowed to give you. After that chat we had over The Crucible. I'm just so fascinated by what you think."

"Lolita. I know what happens in this one." Evie peered at the battered title. Rough paper between her fingers, it was clearly an old copy. She peered at his chest instead of his eyes. "We-"

"Don't you miss talking? You know. Last year. Someone who knows what you're going through. I want all my students to be comfortable around me."

"I am comfortable, we..." Evie glanced as someone passed far down the hallway.

Bowers helped her after her dad left. A shoulder. A confidant. A crush that... She felt her heart close in on itself.

"I thought you said we couldn't anymore."

"I miss you." He whispered that. Lush and blunt. She barely heard it. Eyes snapped up.

Someone missed her. Someone wanted to listen. Someone who saw her depth.

His wife left him before he came to Hawkins. Evie learned a great deal about her too.

"I won't tell, I never do." She hid it away into her bag, matched his tone. "We can...talk. Not here."

"Good." He swallowed. "I just think you blossom under guidance and support. I always knew you were one of those girls."

Evie blushed again. Eyes on her shoes.

“I wanted to say I was impressed with your paper as well. As always.” Fredrick gave her arm a pat and left his hand there. Fingers pressed into the knit fabric of her cardigan. His lip twitched.

“Good. That’s…I’m glad.” Evie’s eyes flickered over stormy blue ones, swaying. Lashes gave a dreamy bat. “I was thinking, ah, about you when I wrote it.”

“Really, you should speak up in class more.” Fredrick gave her one subtle squeeze and dropped his hand. “All those funny poems you shared last year.”

“My songs.” Evie corrected softer and he only smiled to nod.

“Right.” An idle step backwards before he leaned over her. A great deal taller. The shadow crept over her eyes this time. “You have a Merry Christmas, dear. And speak up again in class, Evie. You know I love to hear from you.”

A sensation like a fizzling sparkler glowed in her belly. Out her spine. Spread over skin.

“I know.” She giggled at him, peering around. “Merry Christmas, Mr. B. We'll talk.”

“Small town, I’m sure I’ll see you out and about.” A wink and he was gliding off. Shoulders back and chest perched high.

“You might.” Evie swooned against her locker. Watched him go. Gasped a breath into her lungs. Swept all the clouds aside to fill her backpack with work. He made her feel so special, like no one ever could.

“Anyone...” She sang to herself, “who knows what love is...” Fingers plucked up a final book. Evie hummed and thought of small cartoon blue birds spinning around her head as she went into the restroom. Washed her hands and lingered to see her reflection.

Evie was in a strange place. In and out of her skin. Torn between love and hate for her body.

Usually, it just took a brave face. Her dad always used to tilt her chin and tell her to put on her bravest face before leaving home.

She hoped the one she chose was convincing.

Her mom would always spin her favorite Bible or Dolly Parton quotes. Which helped on occasion even if she wasn’t sure which source the words came from half the time.

A sigh. This was her flesh. She’d live in it as best she could. Dreamed herself into something better.

Footsteps hurried down the hallway until the door shoved open. Humming cut.

“Hargrove!” She gasped, dropping her messenger bag. “Billy, you can’t be in here!”

“God damn it, Fenny. You again?” Billy skidded to hush her. Pressed them back into the wall. The heat of his body engulfed her frame, standing a good few inches taller. “Do me a fucking solid. Hide this for me.”

Billy had no sense of boundaries because he was stuffing a baggie into her front jean pocket.

“What are you doing?” She seethed at him, smacking his arms off her to put some distance. “Get off me!”

“Don’t say a word. Got it?” Billy lifted a finger with an intent look. Smelled of leather and his heavy cologne. Hairspray too. It all overshadowed the cigarette scent. He smoothed his tee out and turned to see the door. Scrambling like a spider, Billy jumped up on the toilet, threw his messenger bag outside, and pulled himself up. Wiggled his way out.

Evie heard a thud and groan.

“What the fuck?” She whispered, more so to herself as he disappeared. Hands pulled what was clearly concealed weed bundled up several times and bagged from her pocket. “Shit.” More footsteps before the door burst as she shoved it away.

“You see that Hard-grove kid?” A thick accent asked. Security guy. Useless.

“Uh!” Evie pulled her bag up. “Who?...This is the ladies room! Can’t a girl have a moment here?”

“Sorry!” He cringed away before she jumped into mushy period talk. It always worked.

Evie rolled her eyes and marched out to find Billy. Casual as can be, he tossed his bag into the trunk of his car and stilled to light a cigarette. Grumbling, steps hurried up the hill.

“Asshole!” She tossed the weed at his chest, made him catch it awkwardly and stuff it into the trunk with a hiss.

“Keep a lid on it, will you?” He slammed it shut. No one was around to see them.

“Don’t do that shit again.” She pushed into him to go, Billy’s big hand wrapped around her wrist. Tugged her square into his chest. An unkind grin swept.

“I had you figured, didn’t I? You didn’t say anything.” Billy blew smoke into the air, plucked the cigarette out to flick it with his free hand.

“Let go.” Evie huffed. “I would have been in deep shit too for that.” She wiggled and pushed at his chest.

Billy flicked his bright eyes over hers. So brown they looked black in winter. He never noticed that she had a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks like he did. Pale for a girl with darker features. Indiana falls and winters must have taken the color right out of her. Looked like a lot of the mixed gals he knew back home.

Big curls. Soft and curvy.

Angry at him over something he did.

There's no place like home, he figured.

“You’re so weak.” Billy laughed at her. Took another drag. “They told me you freaked out on a guy last year.”

“You want to be next?” She twisted away from him and turned. It wasn’t a real threat. He’s seen her tend to plants like they were humans. Feed neighborhood cats and nurse her own. Old black cat with not long left. Little fucker was always creeping him out from her bedroom window. Constantly staring with huge green eyes like it knew something Billy didn’t.

“Babysit your own weed.”

“You walking home?” Billy was relentless, voice lifting.

Evie huffed and turned.

“What, are you going to say I probably need the exercise? My bike chain broke.”

“Christ, I was gonna offer a ride. Figured I owed you for saving my damn weed and my break. Not like it's out of the way.” Billy turned to open the passenger door. “Quit being a drag and get in. I don’t bite hard...unless asked.”

“You’re such a creep.” She eyed him there. Wondered how he stayed warm in a tee, jeans, and leather jacket. “Not waiting for Max?” He gave this annoyed look.

“She’s going out with her stupid friends, not my problem today.” Billy got in, gesturing. “At least close the door if you’re not coming. I went through the effort to open it for you.”

“What a gentleman.” Sarcasm.

Evie came back toward his car and debated it. Smelled like it might rain with the sky turning grey. And she really didn’t want to walk in these shoes. Rationalizing it, she slipped inside and shut the door. Settled her bag in her lap. Even buckled up. Billy revved the engine and skidded to speed out without a second glance.

“You going to the party with Heather?”

Evie peered at him watching the road with this hard look on his face. Ghosted a smile. Bingo.

“You’re being nice to me to get to Heather, huh. You know you’re not the first guy to pull this. Could have just asked me about her.”

Crystalline eyes flared up at her face.

“What? Dorky chicks like you turn me on, too.” He replied rougher, not bothering to watch the road.

“Wow. Spread it on thick, Hargrove.” She turned from him.

“I always do.” He hit a hard corner. Christ, he drives fast. “I got a shot?”

“She thinks you’re cute.” Evie shrugged. Far too used to this. Eyes slid to his profile. Wild curls still golden on grey days. The boy glowed. It was absolutely insufferable. Leaves whirled by, brown and dead. A smile crossed her face. “Listen. Since you’re saving me a walk. I’ll help you.”

“Help me? I don’t need your help, I just wondered if she was gonna show.” He scoffed, turning on Cherry Lane.

“You want to know what Heather likes. It’ll help you.” She crossed her arms, nearly flying forward when he screeched to a stop in front of his house. Billy shot her a look, filled with pride. “You got a pen and paper, bud?”

He snatched her bag, tore a page from her notebook and dug into his glove box for a pen.

Ass. She hugged it back to her chest.

"Talk."

“Okay.” A breath. “The thing about Heather is she’s a romantic. Jane Austin girl. Pride and Prejudice. If you can quote that just once like Mr. Darcy, she’s yours... Well? Are you writing?”

Billy did a double take and huffed, grumbling. He actually marked it down.

“Mr. Who?”

“Your life amazes me.” She chuckled. “Darcy.”

“Got it. Darcy. I’ll ask Susan about that shit, she’s a reader.” He muttered, tongue sweeping out before he scribbled.

“And she loves museums. First date ideas. Milkshakes. Cheese fries with jalapenos. Cheeseburger gal. Chinese from that corner joint. Always spicy. Easy picks.”

“A girl after my own burning heart.” Billy felt her peer at him again. Lips lifting with this expression he couldn’t read. Blinked her big eyes and went on.

“Definitely loves to snuggle in with something scary even though they freak her out. Must be a curiosity thing.”

“Any excuse to get close to someone, I like it. This is gold, Angel, go on.”

“You know, I think that’s all I got for you.” Evie turned to get out, sighing. That was just a little evil. “Billy.”

“What?” He shut his door and turned from her.

“Thanks for the ride.” She moved to go toward her house. “Knock ‘em dead.”

Billy didn’t reply. Just watched her go into her house before he dug for another smoke.

“Mom?” Evie called. “I’m home.”

“I’m in my room, sweetheart!”

Ramona Fenny was a spirited woman, went by Mona to the neighborhood. A girl of the 60s. Built like Dolly Parton with a pumped hairstyle to match in sleek dark brown, almost black. She worshiped the woman. Looked like she could have modeled atop a cake.

A church going girl who used prayer to get her through the divorce. Never pushed it on others, not even Evie. Too busy pushing other things. Like the free days she lost having her daughter young. She liked what worked in life and this worked for her. Liked the pretty side to things.

Mona was a sunny side up sort of mother.

Best friends with Claudia Henderson as they both went through divorces which was not in God’s plan. Evie liked Dustin, she babysat him on occasion and he was a good kid. Bullied like her.

Mona owned the favored hair salon in town. Worked long hours with a team of women and ran a tight ship. Did hair for all the social elites so she knew everyone and all the hot gossip. And did she love that detail the most. Evie helped out with reception during vacation time. Liked the extra cash.

“I was going to go to Heather’s later, there’s a party.”

“Oh, have fun, baby.” She pushed her kid to go out. To live. To be smart. Never asked her to call. Not out of trust for Evie, she couldn’t be bothered. Never imagined her daughter would be up to mischief.

If only she knew.

Sometimes, Mona keyed in when it suited her. Understood when Evie’s likes and dislikes changed. When she asked to not go to church anymore because it didn’t help her after her dad walked out. Ramona was understanding as long as you didn’t bring up things like depression and anger. There always had to be a way out. Turn the other cheek.

Evie knew her mother always thought the best.

“Great.” Evie crossed to steal the hair brush, helped her mother out with the teasing. Dyed rich and dark locks that used to be a mousy brown. Dark eyes like her daughter. Evie didn’t look like her father with his brighter features. Her lush hair and russet eyes. Thick brows. “You going out? All dressed up...”

“Just into town, couple of errands.”

That was something that changed a week after her dad moved out. Mona’s style revamp. She was a woman of the sixties and seventies and that came back full force. Styled and pumped up like she was walking out of a Nancy Sinatra music video. Men around town noticed it and the woman certainly speculated.

But, her daughter had a style change too after the incident so it must have run in the family.

“Better?” Evie eyed the glittery rings sitting in a ceramic dish. They looked like gumballs there.

“Touch of hairspray and I’ll be right as rain.” Pink manicured nails came up with the can. “Take cover, baby.”

“Got it.” Evie disappeared in a waft of spray. Stole an ice cube from the freezer to crunch it out of this habit she picked up when dad was gone. Cool and melty between her fingers before she swallowed it down. Felt the bulge tense all down her throat. Another followed. Teeth straining to crack it like glass. The chunks went down a little less smooth as she looked for real food and shut the fridge instead.

Evie went into the bedroom to see her old cat on the pillow. His head lifted. Skinny and balding. Blind in one eye.

“How’re we doing, my handsome boy?” Evie dropped her bag and crossed to pet him. Purrs erupted, whiskers twitching. “Bourbon, my darling.”

A scratch of a meow rasped.

“Yes, I love you too. I’d kiss you if my lips weren’t done up.” She smacked her lips and stood. “Outfit.” Clothing pushed around. Her room was a small, intimate space. Few pictures and purple curtains. Desks covered in song lyrics, trinkets, and needle felting projects.

Evie held up garments to the cat, but he was no help. Just purred there like a motor boat. Settled on a black top with some sparkle and a magenta wash denim jacket. Jewelry was a must, she preferred earrings that were huge acrylic hearts. Bourbon had gotten into the window to watch the window across the way.

Billy wandering shirtless and damp. Muscles red and bulging like he’d done a quick work out

“Yeah, not today, my sweet.” Evie plucked the cat from the window and reached to close the blinds. Billy caught her. Winked and licked his lips slower. She made a face at him. Utterly loathing and not impressed at his peacock way of navigation. “Ew."

The blinds snapped down, leaving Billy to laugh there. Evie carried her purring cat out, chiding.

"Don’t make his head any bigger than it already is.”

~~~~

TAGLIST OPEN! Hope you enjoyed! Thanks!

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fanfiction #Billy hargrove fanfic #Billy Hargrove imagine #SOMY #Angel Fenny #writing #mine #Billy x oc #billy x angel

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glassbangtan · 5 years

Text

love lyrics {yoongi x reader}

Words: 11.8k

Summary: Min Yoongi is a Modern Arts student. You are kind of a Modern Arts student. Min Yoongi lives and breathes his music, would die for a good grade. You are hopping from course to course, still trying to figure out what you want. Two seemingly opposite people somehow form a connection in the mess of trying to complete a relatively difficult homework assignment that focuses on the topic of love - something Yoongi is completely oblivious to.

Genre: angst - fluff - high school au

Notes: masterlist - support my writing or ask me about commissions!

----

Min Yoongi is fairly certain this is the stupidest thing he's ever been told to do.

Ever.

He's a Modern Arts student – he's learning to produce music, for crying out loud. So, why is he being forced to sit down and write some stupid love poem for a person he doesn't even know?

The assignment came from his music teacher, Miss Seymour. Miss Seymour, a pleasant elderly lady who prides herself on the fact that she's married to the music, is someone Yoongi usually respects a great deal. In truth, she's taught him almost everything he knows, has paved the way for the future he wants to pursue once he leaves the hell hole that is Daegu High School.

However, this morning she'd walked into class, chipper as anything with her usual flask of coffee in her hands, and she'd told each and every student in that room to sit down and write about love.

Yoongi could have honestly slammed his head into the desk.

Yoongi isn't a hopeless romantic by any stretch of the imagination. He's read romance books (mostly because of Namjoon) and he's watched romance movies (mostly because of Jimin) but never before has he taken that side of media and applied it to his own hobby – writing music. Never before has he even wanted to, because the minute you start mixing complicated feelings into a piece of music, it can start deteriorating very, very fast. The song can quickly become something you don't even want to look at, let alone properly record and release to the world.

Nonetheless, Yoongi needs this grade. He needs to keep Miss Seymour's respect, and so he ducks his head down and starts scribbling on the piece of paper he's pulled from his backpack.

Nothing happens.

He's moving his pen. He's pretty sure there should be words on his page, but instead, all that appears is a tiny doodle of a hedgehog in the top left corner. Beside it, a smiley face. Soon, an entire little family of bizarre doodles have taken up the space of his lined page, and there is not a single word or flowery lyric intermingling amongst them.

Miss Seymour makes her usual rounds of the classroom. Yoongi tries to shield his page from view, folding his arms over the top of it, ducking his head into the tiny box he's made. However, Miss Seymour is actually a decent teacher, and she really does worry about the work of all of her students – Yoongi isn't getting away with this one.

She taps his shoulder. He doesn't move. Maybe if he pretends he's asleep, she'll realise just how exhausting it is to be a student, will take pity on him and leave.

“Yoongi.”

He squeezes his eyes closed. “Hm?”

“Can I see what you've got done so far?”

Yoongi knows he has no choice. Haltingly, he slides away from the desk and shows off his doodles. Part of him is quite proud of the little hedgehog – maybe Miss Seymour likes hedgehogs.

She tilts her head, grey eyes narrowed behind her wire-framed glasses. Yoongi sees her purse her lips, and he knows then and there that he's done for – he's nearly wasted an entire lesson, nearly an entire fifty minutes scribbling stupid doodles rather than doing this stupid assignment, and now he's going to fail, and-

“Not quite what I asked for, Mr Min,” she says.

Yoongi nods slowly. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Are you struggling?”

“I just. . . don't know what to write.” He looks up. “You know I'm more of a hip hop writer.” And she does know, because she's praised Yoongi so many times on the different pieces he's shown to her. She knows this isn't the kind of thing that comes easy to him.

She hums, settling herself down on the only other seat at the desk – it's been empty since the start of the year, considering most people would rather sit with their friends and chat then get any actual work done. Yoongi made the sacrificial decision to sit by himself this year, leaving Hoseok and Namjoon to their gossip at the back of the classroom.

“I've taught a lot of boys just like you, Yoongi,” Miss Seymour says. “They have a specific idea in mind of what they want to do, and they think that's it. They think music falls into one of multiple categories, and they choose which one they like best and that's them sorted for the rest of their life – well, I don't want you to fall under the same assumptions, because it really isn't true.”

Yoongi frowns.

“As musicians, we have to learn to love all genres of music. We might not enjoy writing them, and some will be stronger than others, but the respect at least has to be there. You have to fall in love with the art, not the genre.”

Yoongi continues to frown. Maybe he's too young to understand what she's saying. Maybe she really is bat shit crazy.

“Today we're writing about love,” she points out, tapping his page as if that will prove anything. “So, I want you to think of someone you deeply, deeply love and I want you to write about them. I know how good you are with words, Yoongi – I think you can make something beautiful out of this.”

Yoongi looks down. He might be hiding a smile; he isn't really sure yet. Part of him is amused by Miss Seymour's outlook on life, but the other half of him can kind of see where she's coming from – yes, it's important that he forms some kind of respect for all genre's of music if he wants to work with a broad range of artists in the future, but god, does he really have to suffer through the additional task of thinking about his own emotions?

Miss Seymour leaves. Yoongi never responds to her, but she doesn't really need him to. She's made her point, and now she's gone, and Yoongi is left with his pen and his sheet of paper.

He really just has to think of someone he loves.

He loves his mother, yes. His father, yes. His brother, yes, and sometimes he'll even feel a flicker of fondness for his small group of friends, as rowdy as they are. He loves music – but he can't write about that, can he? That's even worse than writing about how much he loves his family. It's just. . . not what people want to hear, and it certainly isn't what he wants to write about.

There's so much emotion in the word love. There's so much it can be, so many forms it can take, so Yoongi doesn't fully understand why he's struggling to come up with something to write about. None of it has to be truthful – he can bullshit his way through an English essay, so why can't he do the same in music?

He sighs and slumps back in his chair. His hood is already pulled on over his head, but he exaggerates his need for privacy by popping an AirPod in his ear, covering it with the hood of his jacket. He leans his head back, inhales deeply and-

The door to the classroom swings open. All attention is sucked directly towards the source.

“Sorry! Sorry, ah!” You awkwardly laugh. “I hope I'm in the right room. Miss Seymour's class, right?”

Miss Seymour pauses, chalk still in her hand as she scribbles some random motivational quote on the blackboard. It's been a long time since Yoongi's seen a startled Miss Seymour; the sight is oddly refreshing.

“Uh...,” the elderly woman drawls. “Yes. I'm Miss Seymour.”

“Sorry for being late.” You're talking so fast. Yoongi wants you to slow down. “I only signed up for Modern Arts a few days ago, and today's my first actual class. I'm still trying to find where everything is.”

Miss Seymour nods, dazed. “You've got the right place. T-take a seat wherever you want, love.”

And Yoongi knows. He just knows, because it happens in every single movie, and every single book, and you look over at him as soon as the words have left Miss Seymour's mouth. He can hope, but it's useless. You immediately make a B-Line for the one free chair in the entire classroom – which just so happens to be right beside Min Yoongi.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, even though he isn't entirely sure why he's so put-out by this. He doesn't even know you, but he knows you're loud and you talk too fast and the way you stumble over to his desk makes him think that maybe you're a little bit clumsy, too.

Bits and pieces of your personality are showing to the surface, and Yoongi hasn't even said two words to you. Clearly you don't like to keep yourself subtle.

Yoongi shuffles to the side when you slam your bag on the table and start rummaging around for your books. You're smiling the entire time – Yoongi doesn't know why, isn't entirely sure if he wants to know why.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “I take up a lot of room sometimes.”

“You're fine,” Yoongi grumbles. He tucks his AirPod back in his ear and turns back to his work; he needs to get this done. You can't be a distraction.

You sit down beside him, chair screeching with the force of which you plonk down. Yoongi tries to curl up against the wall. You don't get the hint.

“Well, hello,” you say. “I'm Y/N.”

“Hello.”

You pause. Yoongi should probably say something, maybe tell you his name.

He bites the top of his pen.

“What's your name?”

You sound like a six year old in a park.

“Yoongi,” he replies.

“Min Yoongi.”

He glances at you. “How do you know?”

You smile sheepishly, glancing down at your hands. To the untrained eye, you might look a little embarrassed, but Yoongi is struggling to believe someone with a personality like yours is capable of felling embarrassed. “I heard a bit about you when I was signing up for my extra classes. Apparently you're really good at Modern Arts.”

“Yep.”

“Well, it's an honour to sit beside you, Min Yoongi.”

“Just Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You don't have to say my last name. It's just Yoongi.”

You grin. “Well, okay, Just Yoongi.”

“We're not doing that, either.”

Your grin fades. Yoongi almost feels bad.

He shuffles a little closer to the wall and goes back to chewing on his pen. There's only ten minutes of class left. He honestly doesn't see a point in trying to force his creativity at this point.

“I don't know what you're doing,” you say. “Miss Seymour didn't explain the work.”

“Did she not?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Are you working on anything interesting?” You lean forward. “Can I hear some of your work?”

“No.”

You flinch back. “Oh. Okay.” It's silent for a moment. “Can you explain what the work is?”

Yoongi glances at you. The word “No,” is playing on his tongue again, but even he can admit that's a little bit too mean. He sighs and sits forward, nudging the instructions page towards you. He taps it lightly and says, “That explains everything.”

You read over it, furrowing your brows. “You're writing about love.”

“Apparently so.”

“But that's so broad.” You push the sheet away. “There's so much you can do with that. Like, forbidden love, platonic love, familial love, material love. What about love when it comes to hobbies, or passions? How can she just tell us to write about love?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Dunno.”

“What have you got so far?” Before Yoongi can protest, you snatch the page hidden beneath his folded arms.

He winces; fuck. You've literally just told him that people claim he's some genius when it comes to Modern Arts. He's meant to impress you, but there's absolutely nothing impressive about what you're looking at.

“Aw! That's a nice little hedgehog.”

Yoongi blinks. He thinks of saying “Thank you,” but that seems kind of stupid. He snatches the page out of your hand and mumbles something along the lines of, “Please don't do that again.”

You giggle. “So I'm guessing you're just as stumped as I am. Tell me, Yoongi – is it because there's so much to write about, or because there's so little to write about?”

Yoongi raises a brow. He spares you a glance, just over his shoulder, just something small, but it's enough for him to see the tiny smile twitching on your lips. You lean back in your chair, sighing dreamily, and the two of you wait till the bell rings, because that's all you can do – a hopeless romantic and someone who doesn't even want to ponder over the idea of love.

----

“So the new girl was pretty weird today, don't you think?”

As soon as Yoongi hears the words coming from Namjoon, he wants to turn and walk away.

He doesn't, though, because god forbid he get caught eating alone in a high school cafeteria. It would take months to recover from the torment.

So, he sets his tray down next to Hoseok and tries to change the subject immediately. “Does anyone have good sociology notes I can steal?”

Namjoon perks up. “Ay, there you are! Just the man we were waiting on.”

Hoseok leans in, nudging Yoongi's arm. “So, how was the new girl today?”

“Uh. . . On her best behaviour.” He isn't sure how else to respond.

Hoseok frowns. “No, dude. I mean, like, was she cool? Was she annoying? She seemed really overbearing when she walked in this morning.”

Yoongi shrugs, messing with the top of the salt pot. “We didn't really talk that much.” It wasn't necessarily a lie, but the way he says it makes it seem like one. Maybe you two did talk quite a lot – maybe Yoongi's shyness has reached a point where he doesn't even know what counts as talking a lot.

“Did you get her name?” Jimin asks.

“Y/N.”

Taehyung slaps the table and holds his palm out to Jungkook. “See, I told you that was it! You owe me a fiver!”

Jungkook slaps his hand away. “Fuck off. I can't afford that.” He turns back to Yoongi. “You didn't talk to her at all?”

“This is Yoongi,” says Seokjin through a mouthful of steak bites. “It wouldn't even surprise me that much if they didn't talk.”

Yoongi shrugs. He doesn't know how to respond to that, either.

Namjoon sighs. “Shame. I kind of want to know a bit more about her.”

“Why?” asks Taehyung.

“Why not? She stumbles into our Modern Arts class, yelling about how sorry she is for being late. I've never even seen her walking round the Modern Arts block before – so what made her decide to transfer so suddenly?”

These are all very good questions. So good, in fact, that Yoongi even finds himself listening to the discussion.

“I guess so,” says Jimin. “Do you know what classes she took before?”

“Maths,” Jungkook says. He pauses when he realises that the whole table is staring at him in confusion. He shrugs. “What? I worked on the student council for three weeks – the files I had access to in there, man. Crazy.” He points his chopsticks at Seokjin. “You, sir, are in Mr Brown's bad books, by the way.”

Seokjin curses.

Namjoon waves a dismissive hand, dragging back the conversation. “Isn't that so weird, though? She's moved from maths to Modern Arts – who does that? What maths student do you know that all of a sudden decides their passion is in the Arts?”

Yoongi can understand Namjoon's confusion, but he's also known the younger man long enough to know that he has a habit of looking a little bit too deeply into things that don't really matter. Maybe Yoongi is just a bit of a debby-downer, or maybe he really does just have a bad habit of taking life as it comes, but he doesn't see a reason in stressing himself out over something as simple as another persons academic interests.

But in the same breath, it is confusing.

“I'm happy for her,” says Taehyung, popping a strawberry in his mouth. His lips are already bright red. Yoongi is used to this by now. “You know, I used to think I'd join my dad on the strawberry farm when I was younger. That used to be, like, my goal. And now look at me.” He spreads his arms out, encompassing the whole table. “I'm sat with you assholes, taking a photography course.”

“What a glow-up,” Jimin deadpans, to which Taehyung merely grins.

Yoongi looks down at his own meal. The only reason he avoids these conversations is because they often get him thinking, and that's dangerous territory. He thinks enough when he's in class. He thinks enough when his parents are yelling at him for not doing a business degree. He thinks enough without the added stress of thinking about someone he doesn't even know.

But Namjoon really takes no prisoners. He leaves Yoongi pondering over the strange individual who had sat beside him that morning, the conversation he'd had with you, the way you'd seemed genuinely flustered over the array of possibilities that the word 'Love' brought to the table.

Yoongi wouldn't be surprised if you didn't show up to class next week. You honestly didn't seem too passionate.

---

Okay, so maybe Yoongi was a little quick to judge.

He should have given you more credit, because here you are, and here he is, and the both of you are fifteen minutes early to the first class on a Monday morning.

Yoongi pauses in the doorway, his folder pressed to his chest in the same way all them pretentious, quirky girls always hold them in the movies. He feels a little bit ridiculous, but there was no room in his backpack, so he made do with what he had.

Your head is down. You don't see him yet. He gets the urge to run, just come back in fifteen minutes like a normal kid, but then he's frozen and he's staring at you, silently wondering why on earth you're still here when he's already put two and two together and deduced the fact that you were, by no means, meant to be a Modern Arts student.

Before he can swivel round and flee, your head pops up from beneath the desk. How your eyes immediately train on Yoongi is a mystery, but what he knows for sure is that there is absolutely no chance of him making a swift get-away now.

“Oh! Yoongi!” You grab your bag from his chair, slipping it beneath the desk. Clearly you've already assumed Yoongi is going to sit beside you again.

He hates that you're right.

“Good morning,” you say when he slumps down next to you. “I didn't take you as the early type.”

“I'm not. Not really.”

“Well, I'm sure Mrs Seymour really appreciates your effort.”

Yoongi's eyebrow twitches. “It's Miss.”

You glance over at him. “What?”

“It's Miss Seymour,” he repeats, even though he isn't sure why he's doing this at all. “She's not married.”

You pause. For a second, Yoongi is positive he's somehow offended you – it wouldn't be the first time. He really does try and make decent conversation, but who even knows how to start a conversation these days? Who has the time to figure all of that out?

He starts pulling his hood over his head. Your hand snaps out and tugs it back down.

“Oh,” you say. “Thanks for telling me. That would have been embarrassing if I'd gotten her name wrong.”

“Yeah.”

“So, do you know what we're doing today?” You shuffle down in your seat, getting comfortable, as if Yoongi going through the lesson plan is equivalent to a camp-fire story.

“Probably just carrying on with what we were doing last lesson,” he replies. “Writing about love or whatever.”

“Oh, yes. I remember that.” You shake your head. “You know, I had all weekend to think about that stupid prompt, and I'm still none the wiser.”

“That sucks.”

“Did you come up with anything?”

“Nothing good. Nothing I can work with.”

You nod as if you understand. “That's just it, isn't it? Love has so many different pieces to it, so many different elements, but it really just comes down to our skill. Like, if we can't write about it, then we might as well not even waste our energy thinking about it.”

Yoongi nods. You aren't wrong. He wonders whether or not he should say that to you. Is that a decent response?

“You're not wrong.”

You grin. Yoongi gives himself one point.

“Have you always been a Modern Arts student?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Yoongi pauses. “Yeah. Most of the time.” He gestures round the classroom. “This whole love thing isn't really my cup of tea, though.” Cup of tea? What does that even mean?

“I gathered that.” Your voice comes out as more of a giggle. Yoongi hates that he notices this, hates the warm feeling that immediately sprouts in the pit of his stomach – it's not very often someone giggles in his vicinity, especially when no one else is around. He's usually either got his AirPods in and his hood up, or he's saying some self-deprecating joke that just makes the other person uncomfortable.

He glances over at you. You don't look uncomfortable at all. In fact, you're slouched, as if being in Yoongi's presence is the most natural thing in the world.

He decides to slouch, too.

“I used to be a maths student,” you say. “It was difficult.”

“I can imagine.” He pauses. He has a right to ask a question, doesn't he? Asking questions is a human right, isn't it? “Why did you transfer?”

“It was just. . . . difficult,” you repeat, shrugging at your lack of a better term. “I mean, clearly I enjoyed it at some point, or else I wouldn't have chosen it in the first place, but it's a lot of work and it just wasn't. . . . I don't know, like, fulfilling enough. You know what I mean?”

Yoongi doesn't. He nods anyway.

“So I decided to give Modern Arts a try.”

“Is that not bad for your grades?” Yoongi spits out before his confidence wavers and he crawls back into his tiny hole of isolation. “Like, hopping from course to course? What happens if it turns out you don't even like Modern Arts?”

You shrug. Your pout says you don't entirely care. “Then I'll find something else.”

“Must be exhausting.”

“Not really. What is exhausting is dragging yourself out of bed every morning to go to a class you don't even like. I'd much rather be a little bit behind and happy than ahead and hating every minute of it.”

Again, Yoongi doesn't really understand. Maybe it's because he's been settled in his major his entire life – from the moment his fingers touched the keys of that piano, he's never wanted to leave it. He took Modern Arts for the same reason most other students take Modern Arts – because they want to study Modern Arts.

You, however, don't seem to care too much about structure, or the future at all, for that matter. You hop from course to course like it's no big deal, like the end of year exams aren't the things that are going to determine your overall worth as a human being.

At least, that's what Yoongi thinks. His grades mean an awful lot to him, but he's heard differing opinions.

“I'll figure myself out,” you say. Yoongi didn't realise he hadn't replied. “We all get there in the end.”

Yoongi hums. It's the only response he can think of, but you seem perfectly content with it.

The two of you sit like that until the first bell rings and the class gradually begins to fill up. Miss Seymour walks in wearing a slightly oversized body-suit with parrots on it, along with a pair of dangly earrings that look about three seconds away from snapping her earlobes off completely.

Yoongi gives her a small smile. He isn't sure why. He must be feeling nice this morning.

Hoseok and Namjoon walk past his table. Hoseok claps him on the back, offers a greeting before his brown eyes flick to you; you're busy scavenging in your bag again, and Yoongi watches as you pull a piece of gum out, frown and then quickly toss it back into your bag.

“Hello!” Hoseok almost-yells.

Your head snaps up and round, a grin immediately taking shape. Yoongi thinks it's been practised, because there's no way in hell someone can smile so well in such a short amount of time. Without warning, too.

“Hi!” you almost-yell right back.

You two give each other a high five, and Hoseok walks away.

Yoongi frowns, turning to you. “Do you and Hoseok know each other?”

“Hm?” You've gone back to studying the contents of your backpack.

“You and Hoseok. Have you met before?”

“Oh. No. I've never seen that guy in my life.” You look at him over your shoulder. Yoongi has the sudden urge to brush your hair away from your mouth. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Behind him, Hoseok and Namjoon howl with laughter.

---

Yoongi is starting to get angry.

The blank page, the half-chewed pen, the fact that he's going to have to buy another Refill Pad because he's ripped almost all the pages out of his other one. Call him dramatic, but he's ninety percent sure absolutely nothing in his life is going to work in his favour ever again.

The library isn't even half full, which is weird, because it's exam season and it should be. Nonetheless, the quiet murmuring distracts him. He knows he's just looking for an excuse to get away from his music homework, which makes his anger even worse. Who can you trust if your own brain is going against you?

He squeezes his eyes closed, placing his head against the table. He doesn't want to make a scene, but if this final nerve gets plucked in the next ten seconds, he's fully prepared to flip his chair and scream at the top of his lungs.

So maybe it's a good thing that you seem to be having an even worse day than he is.

He hears you opening the library door. Everyone does. As per usual, your foot gets caught on the door frame and your casual walk turns into a stumble. The apologies fall from your lips, your folder crashes to the floor, and the entire library goes silent.

Yoongi looks up. You're on your knees, gathering up a pile of papers. Nobody is helping you.

“Sorry,” you mutter on repeat. It breaks Yoongi's heart a little bit.

He stands up and goes over to help you; it's not a heroic move. To be quite honest, he's only doing it because he wants to get out of that god damn seat, and the distraction of your misfortunes is a welcome one. He drops to the ground beside you and starts bundling up the pages, rapidly thinking up a conversation starter that might make you feel a little more comfortable.

Your eyes snap up. “Yoongi! Hey!”

Apparently you have the conversation starter covered.

He tries for a smile. It probably looks too forced. He quickly looks back down. “Hey.”

“God, I'm such an idiot,” you continue. “I probably just distracted you from some, like, really important homework, didn't I? You're probably so far behind now. You really didn't have to help me if you're busy – this is me just – you know – being me!” You laugh awkwardly. You flick your gaze around at the staring students before looking away. “Fuck.”

“You're fine,” Yoongi grumbles, keeping his head down. “They'll forget about this in about ten minutes.”

“I hope so. This is the fourth time I've fallen in the past week. Fourth!”

“Maybe you should remember that the door frame is-”

“It's elevated. Yes. I – uh – I understand that.” You pluck the pile of papers from Yoongi's arms. He sits back on his heels, watching you be awkward for the first time since he met you – it's weird. He isn't sure if he likes it or not. Then again, he wasn't sure if he liked your overly-bubbly personality, either, and he's beginning to think that maybe he's being a little selfish trying to grab for the best of both worlds.

You shuffle the papers a little bit, give Yoongi an awkward smile before the two of you finally realise you're still kneeled on the floor. You start to rise, stumbling only once. You manage to catch yourself this time.

“Thank you,” you say. “Uh. . . What are you doing here, then?”

You want to start conversation. Yoongi feels oddly flattered.

Instead of giving you a direct answer, Yoongi nods in the direction of his study area, beckoning for you to follow him. He offers you the empty chair beside him, and you sit down with your legs crossed. Yoongi makes an effort to stay as far to the left as possible, just in case he takes up your space. He doesn't want to take up your space.

You peak over at his blank sheet of paper and frown. Then, your eyes trail towards the array of information sheets, and realisation dawns on your expression.

“Oooooh. You're doing the music homework.”

“I'm trying to do the music homework,” Yoongi corrects. “It's a lot easier said than done.”

“You know, I'd nearly forgotten all about that.”

“Well, it's due in a few days. You should probably get started on it.”

“Probably.” You place your pages on the desk, setting up camp, per se. Yoongi finds that he doesn't even mind your plans to stay. “So have you got any idea what you're gonna write about?”

“Nope.”

“That's not a good start.”

Yoongi shrugs.

You hum, sitting back. You tap your chin thoughtfully, and Yoongi wants to tease you about it but he doesn't really think you two are close enough for that kind of thing yet, so he doesn't.

“Have you ever been in love, Yoongi?”

His head snaps up. “What?”

“You know.” You roll your hands. “Have you ever been in love with anyone? Like, romantically in love.” Yoongi stares at you. You sigh. “Okay then. We'll make it less heavy – have you ever thought you were romantically in love with someone?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

You tap the information sheet – specifically, the word LOVE written in big capital letters at the top.

He swallows. “Oh.”

You lean forward. “Judging by that reaction, I would say you have.”

“Well you're wrong, because I haven't.”

Your eyebrows fly up. “Never? Not even when you were in primary school? Did you never have one of them relationships where the guy – or girl – would give you a flower on the playground and then you'd think you were in love for, like, a week?”

Yoongi raises a brow. That's all the answer you need, apparently.

You guffaw, shaking your head. “Min Yoongi, you have missed out. I was going to suggest writing something about that, but your inexperience has once again trumped my plans.”

“Sorry.”

“Maybe you can write about discovering love, then.” You're talking almost to yourself, even though your suggestions are aimed at him. “Being your age and not knowing what romantic love feels like – you could write about it from the perspective of someone who doesn't really know what all the fuss is about.”

Yoongi nearly winces. “It's not that I don't know what all the fuss is about. I've just never . . . cared about it.”

“Ever read Romeo and Juliet?”

“Of course.”

“Did you think it was romantic?”

“More stupid than anything else.”

You blink. “Yeah. Yeah, you definitely don't know what all the fuss is about.” Yoongi opens his mouth to retort, but you leap up and cut him off. “But that's a good thing! It means you have something to write about!”

“That's going to be so depressing.”

“So? It's art. It's allowed to be depressing – as long as it means something.” You point at his blank page. “Or, in this case, as long as it completes your homework assignment.”

Yoongi looks down at the table. It's a start, he'll admit, but the idea hasn't piqued his interest. He knows when he's excited for a project, because he feels it in his bones and his blood, and his fingers itch to grab the pen and start writing – at this moment in time, he feels none of that.

Nonetheless, he humours you. “I'll think about it.”

“Please do,” you reply, before you grab his hand and start scribbling numbers on the back of it. “And please keep me updated on your progress, because I'm just as lost as you are.”

Yoongi tugs his hand back. “Is that your number?”

“Yep! Please text me. Just text. Phone calls make me uncomfortable.” You pause. “Although I might like phone calls with you. I don't know. It depends.”

Yoongi blushes, looking away as you stand up and say your goodbye's. He doesn't know where you're going, and he isn't sure if that's an appropriate question to ask, so he simply smiles and waves you off before slumping back in his seat.

As soon as you leave, his anger returns ten-fold. He didn't even realise it had disappeared as soon as you fell into the room.

----

Yoongi likes rivers. He always has, and he's quite certain he always will.

Ever since he was a little boy, rivers have been a source of inspiration for him. He thinks it might be the noise, the faint trickle that could be water, or the footsteps of someone coming up behind him. He can lose himself within that sound for hours on end, and those hours will still feel like nothing more than a few minutes.

His favourite river is the one just behind his uncle's house. It's big. Benches line the side of it, so he always has a place to sit. Ducks walk around in the grass, and they jump into the water and they make little noises that only add to the peaceful ambience.

Yoongi stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks along the riverbank, trailing his fingertips along the top of the weeds. His music homework burns a hole in his backpack, but he's trying hard to ignore that. For now, he just wants to settle in.

It's night time, but that doesn't bother him. He can work in all conditions – in fact, he wrote one of his favourite songs sitting under a canopy when it was pouring it down. He remembers that day well, how his uncle had basically screamed at him for risking his own health all for the sake of a sheet of paper. Yoongi had no regrets.

He finally settles down on an empty bench and takes the sheet of paper from his bag. He presses it against one of his sociology textbooks, but at this point, he doesn't even care about presentation; he just wants something on the page. He wants to get it finished, because in the next two days, he's going to have to hand it in and he'll be damned if he lets one stupid project jeopardize his final grade.

So, he sits down and he gets to work.

He hates it all. It's like pulling teeth, each and every one of his thoughts being forced through sludge in his brain. Nothing sounds right, and he can't get anything to rhyme, and honestly, nothing he's written is even coherent.

He bites his bottom lip. He has to keep his anger in check, of course, because he's in public and god forbid he show any amount of emotion outside the house. He really does just want to hurl the piece of paper into the river, though, and maybe yell some curse words, even though that's unnecessary and will do nothing for him in the end.

Instead, he moves the textbook from his lap and stays seated. He stares out at the river, silently cursing the water for not bringing the usual bout of inspiration when he needs it most. He can already hear Namjoon and Hoseok in the back of his mind, telling him this project doesn't even matter and it's just a simple homework assignment – neither of them care as much as he does, and maybe that's normal. Maybe Yoongi's the weird one, obsessing over his final grade as if it matters.

“Oh! Look who we have here!”

Yoongi's head snaps up. His lips part. He's going to say something, but the words get absorbed by the confusion over the fact that you're currently standing behind him.

“What?” It's all he can manage.

You grin, skipping to his side. You're wearing a thin jacket today, along with a plain white shirt and a pair of jeans that are marked with grass stains. Your shoes are the same, and there's tiny strands of grass in your hair that Yoongi has to fight to ignore.

“It's me!” you exclaim, as if Yoongi would forget. “I didn't know you came down here.”

“I – uh – my uncle. . . He lives. . .” Yoongi awkwardly gestures to the top of the hill, where his uncle's house is.

You nod, not even following the direction of his gesture. Yoongi wonders why he bothers. “I've just never seen you around before. I come here almost every weekend.” You swing your leg over the back of the bench and perch on top of it. Yoongi shuffles over, silently offering you the place beside him, but you're quite content sitting right there.

You nudge his backpack with your shoe. “The music homework?”

“Yup.”

“You know, I finished mine the other day. After our little chat in the library.”

Yoongi looks up, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Really? How long did it take?”

“About ten minutes.”

He frowns. “Lucky you.”

“Hey, that's not to say it's any good.” You nudge him with your foot. “I'll admit I rushed it. I bet yours is gonna be ten times better than mine.”

Yoongi scoffs. “I actually have to have something to hand in to be better than you.”

You fall silent, and Yoongi wonders if he said something wrong again. He doesn't even care at this point, though, because the sheet beside him is still blank, and he has absolutely no idea what to do about it.

Love. Such a stupid, dumb concept. Did Miss Seymour even take into consideration that maybe some people don't believe in love? She may find this to be a bit of a surprise, but not every teenager in the world is a hopeless romantic – some of them just want to curl up and watch Netflix. Some of them are perfectly content being on their own. Some of them don't even want to think about love and it's complexities, because life is difficult enough without it.

God, he's being such an idiot. He knows this. It's a homework assignment – so what if he doesn't get the expected grade? So what if Miss Seymour looks at it and laughs? So what if his emotional capabilities are sitting at zero?

It doesn't matter. Nothing fucking matters.

“Yoongi?”

He doesn't look up.

You reach forward and place your hand over his own, and it's only then does he realise he's been gripping the strap of his backpack a little too tightly. The blood has drained from his knuckles, rushing to his fingertips until his fingers look like candles.

He quickly releases and pulls his hand into his chest. “Sorry.”

“You don't need to apologise.” You tilt your head. He can feel you staring at him, but he doesn't meet your gaze. “Are you okay? This isn't bothering you too much, is it?”

He closes his eyes. “I just . . . really don't want to fail.”

He isn't sure why he's telling you this, why you would even care, why he even cares. But the words are out, and suddenly you're sliding from the back of the bench to sit beside him, and then your head is on his shoulder and your humming something Yoongi isn't familiar with, but he wants to be familiar with it because it sounds so beautiful coming out of your mouth.

“You're a very tense man, Yoongi.”

He snorts. “Oh?”

“Mm. That was one of the first things I noticed about you when we met.”

“How tense I am?”

“Yeah. That, and the fact that you don't seem to care about it at all.”

“About what?”

“How tense you are.” You squeeze his upper arm, as if all the tension you're describing is in that single muscle. “You've just kind of accepted that that's how you are. Haven't you?”

“I've never been any other way.”

“That's sad.” You sit up. “Why don't we go in the river?”

Yoongi's head snaps up, eyes suddenly frantic. “What?”

But you're grinning, and Yoongi knows you well enough to know that isn't a good thing. You rise from the bench, and you're already tugging your shirt off before he has a chance to tell you to stop. There is no shame to your movements, no worry whatsoever.

Yoongi wants to know what that's like.

“Come on!” you exclaim. “The waters cold!”

“Exactly!” Yoongi stumbles up, reaches for your hand but suddenly it's at the button of your jeans and Yoongi flinches away. “Y/N, stop. The dark won't stop us getting caught.”

“So what if we get caught? I'll keep my bra on.”

And then you're tugging your jeans off and leaping into the river.

Your scream echoes through the trees. A tiny splash of water lands on Yoongi's arm and he grits his teeth – you were telling the truth. The water is ice cold.

“You're gonna get hypothermia in there!” he calls out.

“Don't be silly! Just get in! It warms up eventually!”

Yoongi closes his eyes; you're going to drive him mad.

Apparently, you're also going to persuade him to jump in an ice cold river.

He's peeling off his shirt before his sensible brain can kick in. And then it's his trousers, and then his socks and then he's lowering himself into the river, using the river bank as a grip.

You wade over to him. His eyes widen, and he tries to bat you away, but you're laughing as you tug his hand and pull him into the water. He grits his teeth, trying to bite back the scream threatening to rise to the surface.

It's replaced by a laugh, instead.

He's more surprised than anyone. You stare at him for a second as he tosses his head back and wipes his hand over his face, trailing the ice cold water drops down his skin. He can feel your eyes burning holes into the side of his head, but he doesn't even care, because this is the most daring thing he's ever done and he feels so free. He feels like an actual teenager.

It's weird.

Finally, he drops his hand. His fists splat against the surface, splashing you. You squeal, snapping from your trance long enough to splash him back.

“We're not having a water fight,” he says, walking backwards. “That's just cheesy.”

“Awk, come on,” you scoff, splashing him again. “Why can't we just let ourselves be cheesy once in a while? It's freeing.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, but splashes you anyway. It's the start of a fight, a battle where Yoongi ends up dunked under the water three times, and you end up curled around the trunk of a tree on the river bank, kicking your foot at Yoongi any time he tries to grab for you. The two of you are laughing so hard, no pauses, no care in the world, and Yoongi is sure he's going to wake his uncle up and get a scolding for this, but he doesn't even care.

God, it feels good to just not give a fuck.

Finally, though, the night closes. Not even the moon can illuminate the grass, and the two of you finally decide it's time to pack up and head home.

Yoongi falls on his back on the river bank. You follow close behind him, and it's not even a big deal that you're only in a bra and underwear and he's only in a pair of soaked black boxers. You stare up at the stars, his hand on his stomach, your hand trailing through your tangled hair, and everything seems so right.

Yoongi didn't realise just how tense he was until he was calm again.

“My mum's going to kill me, you know,” you say.

Yoongi snatches at a dragonfly. “Oh.”

“But I had fun, so it doesn't matter.”

“Yeah.”

You spare him a glance. “You don't talk much, do you?”

“Not really.” Yoongi looks over at you. “But I had fun today. More fun than I've had in . . . in a very, very long time.”

You grin, and suddenly Yoongi isn't even worried about what could be lurking in the darkness. “I'm happy to hear that.”

You look back up at the stars, even though you have a curfew that you're clearly breaching, even though you're both soaked and will probably get some sort of cold from sitting out in the grass all night. Yoongi joins you, biting his lower lip to hide the smile wanting to force it's way to the surface.

Suddenly, he knows exactly what he wants to write about.

----

Yoongi really shouldn't be this nervous. This is his best friend. Namjoon, who has read his work on countless occasions, who has given him nothing but complete honesty from the very beginning.

And yet somehow, this feels different.

The two of them are sat in Yoongi's room this evening, an uncommon affair considering Yoongi has indulged himself fully in his studies these past few months; despite his mother finally letting him bring friends over whenever he wants, Yoongi keeps the front door locked and his curtains drawn, just to keep distractions at an all time low.

Today he makes an exception.

Namjoon sits on the spinning chair. Yoongi is cross-legged on his bed, eyeing the taller man because that's all he can think to do, besides tossing himself out the window. He doesn't even know where the nerves have come from, but they only double in size when he looks up to see Namjoon raising an eyebrow at the sheet of paper that has been giving Yoongi grief for days.

Yoongi leans forward. “So....”

“Bro...”

Yoongi flinches back. “Is it bad?”

“It's a bit. . .” Namjoon tilts his head as he searches for the correct word. Finally, he gives up and looks at Yoongi with a raised brow. “You really feel like this?”

Yoongi snatches the paper back. “It doesn't mean anything.”

“And you think I'm stupid. Great. Great. That's fantastic.”

“What are you on about?”

Namjoon gestures towards the page. “Yoongi, you were obviously writing about Y/N. I've barely even spoken to the girl and I can see that.”

Yoongi has the sudden urge to laugh.

But he doesn't laugh. He should be laughing. He wants to laugh, because maybe a laugh will make his denial a little more believable.

Instead he just stares. He feels his fingers curling round the page a little tighter. He really isn't doing a very good job of being subtle.

His voice is a little too high when he says, “You're crazy.” He coughs, standing up and marching to the other side of the room, just because he needs to move before Namjoon's eyes burn a hole in his face. He focuses his attention on the mirror nailed to the back of his wardrobe door and starts fixing his already styled hair. “I don't even know Y/N that well, anyway. How would I even be able to write an entire song about her?”

“You know her well enough,” says Namjoon. “You two are always talking in class.”

“We don't talk.”

“Are you forgetting that I literally sit right behind you?”

Yoongi hollows out his cheeks, dragging a strand of hair down his nose; it's getting long. He wonders if you like it long, or if you'll perhaps prefer him with a shorter style. “There's nothing in there that indicates it's about Y/N. It's just some bullshit I made up to get something on paper.”

Namjoon hums. Yoongi closes his eyes – that's the noise Namjoon does when he's about to prove somebody wrong, and Yoongi doesn't really want to be left embarrassed in his own god damn home.

“What about the line where you talk about how cute it is when this random person stumbles?”

Yoongi fluffs up his hair some more.

“Or the line where you go on about how you admire their personality, even though it's literally the complete opposite of your own?”

Yoongi pulls on his lower lip, inspects his teeth.

��Oh! How about the line where you describe this person making you feel alive for the first time in years?” Namjoon hums. “You didn't tell me you two went out together.”

Something snaps. Yoongi spins round and jumps onto the bed, snatching the page off the desk on his way past. He shoves it towards Namjoon.

“Fuck, is it really that obvious? What line gave it away?” He groans, trailing his hands through his hair. “I can't read this out in front of everyone if she's gonna know it's about her, Namjoon.”

Namjoon takes the sheet and gently places it on the bedside table. “It was a good song.”

“I don't care-”

“What are you so worried about anyway? It's obvious she likes you back.”

Yoongi blinks. “Fuck off.”

Namjoon's eyes widen. “I'm serious!”

But he isn't. He can't be serious. Kim Namjoon, the most serious, honest man Yoongi has ever met, is lying right to his face.

“Right,” Yoongi exclaims, “so I'll just have to write something different then.”

Namjoon grabs his wrist. “Don't you dare.”

“I'm not handing that in. There's no way.”

“But it's good! You'll get the highest grade in the fucking class with that, bro!”

Yoongi scoffs. “Yeah, I'll pass on a good grade if it means sparing my dignity.”

Namjoon gasps, flinching away as if Yoongi's skin has burned him. “I never thought I'd hear you say something like that. This is gonna go down in history.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, and then he's making his way towards the bedside table, and then he's picking up the sheet of paper.

Namjoon cries out, tries to grab his wrist but Yoongi is quicker, and Yoongi is determined, and Yoongi is embarrassed that he ever let himself get so wrapped up in his own emotions that he actually wrote something like that.

He spent two hours trying to put his feelings into words. In two seconds, the candle flame has demolished everything.

----

Yoongi has never been so tired in his entire life.

Now, Yoongi has lived a very productive life. A fairly long life, too, considering he's very nearly reaching his nineteenth year. Throughout that long existence, he has been properly energized perhaps a total number of four times. He's used to exhaustion.

But today's exhaustion is really just taking the piss.

He is genuinely willing to fall asleep on the desk, which is dangerous both because of the risk of getting caught, and the fact that two of his best friends sit directly behind him and will not hesitate to write inappropriate things on his forehead, or the back of his neck, or whatever lick of skin they can find peeking out of Yoongi's black hoodie.

So he stays upright, even though it costs him a great deal of energy that his coffee is not currently refilling.

He takes another sip and hopes for the best.

“Gooooooood morning!”

Yoongi ignores the immediate flutter in his stomach.

“Morning.”

You place your bag on the table and start laying your books out. “How are you this morning?”

“Good.”

“You don't sound good.” You slap a hand to Yoongi's forehead. A bit of his coffee sloshes over the side of his cup. “You haven't got a temperature.” You lean down and meet his eyes. “Just tired?”

“Exhausted,” Yoongi grunts, nudging you away.

You giggle, finally taking a seat. “Well, at least you don't have to worry about your music homework any more – that's one less thing to stress about.”

“I wasn't stressing.”

“You've been stressed out for the past two weeks.”

Yoongi shrugs.

You roll your eyes, leaning your head on your hand. You're staring right at him. Yoongi wants to look away, but his eyes find yours and they struggle to leave, which is becoming an embarrassingly common occurrence recently.

“What?” he asks.

You nod towards his bag. “Can I read it?”

“Read what?”

“Your homework!”

“Uh, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because you might copy it.”

You stare at him. Yoongi hides his smile behind the rim of his cup.

You slap his arm. “I'm serious. I want to see what you finally came up with.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, but it's with a fondness he can't really disguise at this point – to be honest, he doesn't see a point in trying to hide it any more. You've cracked his shell. Those walls he's been building since first year are crumbling down, and no amount of denial is going to hide it.

So, he reaches into his open bag and pulls out the sheet of paper that is the reasoning behind his deterioration this morning; the words scribbled on that page kept him up until three am, and even now he's not pleased with how they turned out.

He just needed something. After scrapping his original idea, he was put right back to square one – he needed an idea, he needed inspiration, he needed to find a muse, but that muse never came. Any time he thought of the word love, the only image that popped into his head was you in that river a few nights ago, the water glistening against flesh he shouldn't have seen because you two were just friends, only friends, and friends aren't meant to see those body parts.

You take the page from him and start reading. Yoongi notices the way you absently chew on the sleeve of your hoodie as your eyes trace the page. He might have thought that was gross on anyone else, but he smiles when he sees you doing it.

Fuck. He's whipped.

He's watching you read, and he's waiting for your reaction, but he regrets this immediately when your face slowly starts to fall. Your eyes go first, moving from side to side a little faster, as if you can't wait to reach the end of the page. Then your grip tightens. Then your sleeve drops from your mouth and you're holding it with two hands.

Then, you inhale and hand it back to him.

He slowly takes it back, not once taking his eyes off you. You've gone from saying good morning and teasing him, to suddenly not even wanting to look in his direction. You instead keep your eyes on the desk, where your thumbs are fighting one another beneath the sleeves of your hoodie.

Yoongi risks leaning forward. “Did you like it?”

You nod. It's a little too quick to be believable. “I can see why everyone thinks you're amazing at Modern Arts.” You laugh, but it's forced. “Miss Seymour's gonna love it, Yoongi. Good job.”

He tries to smile. He tries to believe you. He tries to ignore your sudden silence, which is so strange to him because usually he's the one wanting you to be quiet. He's the one who deduces his responses to nothing more than one word answers or grunts, or even a nod of the head if he's feeling particularly tired that day.

But now you've gone quiet and Yoongi doesn't really like that.

He leans back in his seat. He can't really say anything, can he? What can he say, besides asking you what was wrong with his homework. Did you not like it? Sure, it's the worst thing he's ever written, but it means something completely different when a person he wants to impress thinks the same.

Miss Seymour walks in shortly after that, and the lesson begins.

She gathers up the homework, picking a few people at random to come up to the front and read theirs out. Yoongi gets slightly annoyed when his name isn't called – usually he hates being called to read, but for the love of god, if he'd have known he was just going to hand in some lyrics without needing to spit them out to the whole class, he might have kept his original draft.

Oh well. Too late now.

However, amongst those people reading, Miss Seymour chooses you.

You grab your page and stride up to the front with a confidence Yoongi isn't sure he will ever see you without. From the very first day he laid eyes on you, you've had that aura – that atmosphere that just says I don't really give a fuck what you say. Yoongi craves it, but he likes it much better on you.

You stand at the front. People start reading. Yoongi keeps his eyes on you.

And then it's your turn.

You don't inhale, don't awkwardly laugh, don't even look at the crowd as you start reading from the page, and despite the confidence that is so present in the way you stand, Yoongi can't help but take notice of the grip you have on the sheet of paper, the way your voice trembles just that little bit at the beginning.

The beginning, where you describe stumbling into class.

The beginning, where you describe sitting beside this mystery person.

The middle, where you talk about useless conversations consisting of one word answers, grunts, the occasional nod of the head.

The middle, where you say you thought it was all for nothing until one night under the stars. There was a river, and so few clothes, and laughter that you'd never heard before because it was coming from this special individual and you'd realised with a start that you hadn't heard them really laugh before.

And then the end, where you talk about how weird it is that you've fallen for someone like that.

Like that.

You don't specify. You don't really need to.

Yoongi feels like he's going to be ill. His stomach twists, and his fingers grip the edge of the table, and if he pays really, really close attention he can hear Hoseok and Namjoon squealing in the row behind him. But also, if he listens close, he can hear his heartbeat thundering in his chest as he remembers the way the page shrivelled up in his hand last night, the words he'd written about you no longer meaning anything because they no longer exist.

After you've finished your reading, you ask Miss Seymour if you can be excused. It's in such a quiet voice. Yoongi has to lean forward to hear it, but Miss Seymour nods and tells you how fantastic you've done before you smile and leave the room.

Namjoon taps Yoongi on the shoulder. “Bet you feel like a dick now, huh?” Yoongi closes his eyes, his heart erratic.

----

He finds you in the garden after class.

He has another class he has to get to, but he doesn't care. He walks right past the door of the sociology room and straight into the garden, where he can see your bright yellow hoodie hidden amongst the bushes.

He knows this is stupid. He should leave you alone. He's messed up enough for one day, and the fact that he's willing to risk fucking it up even more makes him want to punch himself in the face – but the idea of leaving you like this makes him want to punch himself even more.

Yoongi sits down beside you. The old wooden bench creaks beneath his weight, and he has the sudden urge to get up and just stand, but that would look awkward, so he doesn't.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks up at the sky.

“Looks like it might start raining soon.”

You look up at the greying clouds. Your shoulder brushes against his when you lean back, and neither of you move. It's pleasant, almost, but there's a tension between you that no amount of physical contact will be able to conquer. Yoongi just has to suck it up and realise – sooner rather than later – that words and apologies are the only thing that can make this right again.

“I think you got the highest grade in the class, you know,” Yoongi continues. “Miss Seymour really liked your lyrics.”

“Good. That's. . . . really good, yeah.”

Yoongi glances at you. “What inspired you to write that?” God, why is he even asking? It was so obvious. You meant for him to catch on, meant for him to understand what you were trying to say, and yet he sits beside you now and acts oblivious.

You close your eyes. “Nothing.”

“Really?”

“I just wrote about love. Like I was told to do.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi turns his body towards you. “But you were going on at me about needing some inspiration. So, what inspired you?”

“Again, nothing.”

“You're lying.”

“You've gotten awfully chatty in the last fifteen minutes, haven't you?”

Yoongi bites his lip. “You know, the lyrics I showed you in class weren't the first ones I wrote. I had. . . I had another draft that was a lot better than that one.”

“So why didn't you hand it in?”

“Because I thought it would be too obvious.” He gestures between you. “If I'd have known we were doing this, I would have kept it the way it was.”

You stiffen. Yoongi can see the confusion in your face. You open your mouth to say something, to perhaps ask a question, but you close it and instead choose to just look over at him.

Yoongi shrugs as if you'd spoken. “It was a lot more honest. It was. . . a bit more meaningful than what I handed in.”

“Can I read it?”

“No.” He closes his eyes. “No, you can't. I burnt it.”

You pause. “Oh.”

“It was about you.”

“Oh.”

“Was. . . Was yours about me?” He sounds like a five year old. He sounds like a bloody five year old!

You look down at your hands, bundled up in the material of your sleeves, fingers just peeking out over the top. “Yes,” you mumble.

Yoongi's heart skips a beat, even though it really shouldn't, because he knew. He'd sat in class and listened to your retelling of that night under the stars; he wasn't an idiot. He'd written about the exact same thing, for crying out loud.

Nonetheless, his heart thunders because you've just confirmed it. There is no doubt any more. There is no but what if...

Yoongi nods. “Oh.”

You giggle. The noise startles him, and he glances over to see you awkwardly shielding your mouth from view. Yoongi raises a brow, and before he can think better of it, he's reaching forward and plucking your hand back to your side.

It lays in between you both. Yoongi places his hand on the top of it, twists your fingers together. You both just stare at the point of contact, and Yoongi doesn't know if you want anything more, or if this is finally making you realise that Yoongi really isn't the guy for you.

Because he isn't.

“This is so fucked up, you know,” he whispers.

You tilt your head. “What?”

“You shouldn't like me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm . . . like this.” He gestures to himself. “And you're like that. Us being together . . . . Life doesn't work that way for people like us.”

You go quiet. Yoongi doesn't look at you.

Not until you lay your head on his shoulder.

His breath leaves him in a single moment. His fingers tighten round your own. As if the blood from his brain has been completely drained, he lets his head drop on top of yours, and it is there, sitting with you in the garden, that he takes a deep breath, and he starts to realise that maybe not everything is so bad.

Maybe there's a bit more to life than what the future holds.

Maybe Yoongi should spend a little bit more time focusing on who he is now, rather than wasting away with the idea of being something bigger.

----

“So, I don't actually like Modern Arts all that much.”

Yoongi scoffs. It's too early for words right now.

You're laying on his chest this morning, playing mindlessly with the buttons on his cookie pyjama top. He rubs your shoulder with one hand, the other plays with your hair.

“You don't sound surprised,” you continue, but you don't sound surprised that he doesn't sound surprised.

“I'm not,” he replies. “You're not exactly a very stationary individual, love.”

“But I tried this time.” You look up, resting your chin on his sternum. “I quite liked sitting beside you. That was honestly the only reason I was dragging myself out of bed every morning.”

Yoongi presses a kiss to your nose. “I appreciate the company.”

You grunt and go back to playing with his shirt buttons. Yoongi goes back to messing with your hair.

“So what made you come to this painful decision?” he asks.

“I just. . . tried it, and I didn't like it.” You shrug. “Miss Seymour will understand, right? I think she only likes me because I'm going out with her star pupil.”

“I thought you were going out with me.”

“Ha ha.” You look up at him again. “When did you start getting so sarcastic?”

Yoongi simply grins. You poke his gums, just like you always do. He pretends to bite your finger, just like he always does.

You both laugh, and it's the most beautiful noise Yoongi has ever heard in his life. He's created music that has left grown adults in tears. He's listened to orchestras play live. He's listened to the tunes of a piano his entire life, and yet none of that can beat the sound of your laughter ringing in his ear at seven am on a Monday morning.

He should probably be getting ready for school. He really can't be bothered, though.

“What course are you gonna try out next?” Yoongi asks once the laughter has settled.

“Might give English a go. Fall in love with whoever I sit with in that class. Move on. Repeat.”

Yoongi pinches your hips. “Don't even joke.”

You kiss his chin. “Sorry. I had to.”

“Did you, though?”

Your kisses trail up to his lips, and Yoongi hums at the contact. You pull away, grin and say, “Yes,” before you sit up and start getting ready for the day.

Yoongi sighs, watching you pull your spare pair of jeans on – you always leave a set of clothes in Yoongi's wardrobe, just in case you accidentally end up staying the night. This is happening more and more often recently, but neither of you are addressing the issue, because neither of you mind.

“I'll go to one more Modern Arts class today,” you say, struggling to keep upright with only one foot on the ground. “Then I'll talk to Miss Seymour about transferring.”

“Sounds good,” says Yoongi. “Do you want me to stay with you after class?”

You raise a brow. “Do you not want to go to lunch with your friends? It'll only take a few minutes, Yoongi.”

“Exactly. But then you won't be in my class any more. I need to spend as much time with you as possible.”

“I live down the street.”

Yoongi raises a hand. “No arguments.”

You roll your eyes. The sun glares down on your skin. It makes your hair look a little shinier. It makes your smile look a little brighter. It makes Yoongi want to grab you and pull you back under the covers with him.

But he doesn't. He rolls out of bed and joins you in the task of getting dressed. The two of you talk about school and your days plans, and then you decide you're going to come back to his place afterwards, and Yoongi has to stop himself from giggling because you don't even have to ask any more – you just decide you're coming over, and that's it.

He loves it. He loves you.

He thinks back to a few months prior when he was sitting in his room, fretting over a piece of paper that seemed to be the bane of his existence at the time. He remembers wondering what Miss Seymour even saw in the topic of love – back then, it was so stupid to him. It was unfair. He's young, and he's still learning how to control his feelings, and he's still learning how to understand them – and even now, months into this relationship, he still struggles to understand it sometimes.

But now, as he gets dressed beside you, he wonders what took him so long to get those lyrics out. Right now, his feelings seem so obvious. Right now, he can't quite pinpoint why he ever thought love was a bad thing.

221 notes · View notes

brianmight · 5 years

Text

SAIL ACROSS THE SEA. // Maylor Titanic!AU (part 2/?)

- where to, mr? - to the stars.

[ also posted on AO3! ]

( @eternallystarlight )

10 april, 1912. Southampton. The ship of dreams is about to commence on its long-awaited journey — the voyage of a lifetime, if the papers are not mistaken. The grandiose sight of the vessel in the harbour is plenty to instil awe in all who parade around the harbour, either as future passengers or people who are about to bid their loved ones farewell. Two separate worlds mingle upon the crowded docks — the one of automobiles and the one of wooden carts; the one of many suitcases and the one of few; the one of riches and the one of rags. One belongs to an affluent heir, the other to a wandering street musician. Their backgrounds couldn’t clash more, but that won’t refrain fate from unifying them on the unsinkable RMS Titanic.

Crossing the gangway towards the first class entrance, Roger could already foretell that the irritated tension between him and his fiancée would only evolve into a more hostile form during the journey. If they weren't able to spend one week together on a ship without disagreement, then how on Earth were they supposed to establish a loving marriage? She promenaded alongside him, a baby blue parasol resting on her shoulder next to a luxurious hat, and emotionlessly peeked over the railing at the waves beneath her feet as if challenging the very ocean to a duel.

When he had offered his hand to help her exit the car, Margaret had stared at it like the gesture was the most offensive movement he could possibly have made, knowing he was only being polite because his father had urged him to. God, how he abhorred her! Flawless on the outside, with pearly skin, chocolate hair and gentle facial features, yet so rotten on the inside with vanity. The memory of meeting her for the first time was unfortunately imprinted on the back of his mind: an angelic appearance that'd almost made him reconsider his opinion on arranged marriage, but all was ruined when she parted her lips to give a smug remark on the length of his hair. Roger deliberately hadn't cut it since, purely to get more under her skin as that was the only way he could get at least a little bit of amusement from his engagement.

He cast a quick nod at the steward by the door, who welcomed the passengers onto the Titanic with a proud smile. Certainly, the vessel was something to be proud of, but Roger, having grown up amongst riches and lavish mansions, was not overly impressed. It was a ship, nothing more: a ferry to a new life that awaited him in America. Married life. A shudder ran across his spine at the mere thought of it.

The interior of the ship was majestic enough to match its grandiose exterior. White walls and tiles radiated the illusion that the entrance hall was even more spacious, and the extravagant patterns of art nouveau added a contemporary flair. Through modern lifts, they were guided to their quarters. Roger had one suite with his father and his younger sister Clare, while the neighbouring one was occupied by Margaret and her parents— unfortunately, their two quarters were directly connected through a shared living area. Smacking the door wide open with more force than necessary, Roger entered the suite along with his relatives, only to realize that its appearance completely mirrored that of the hallway, albeit a bit more old-fashioned: panels of the finest cherry wood, scarlet-draped curtains around the beds, their luggage already placed neatly on the carpet floor. Servants were rushing around, installing several paintings of the Taylors’ personal collection and adding some final ornaments in the shape of vibrant flowers.

The young man took the sight in with a hint of suspicion. They shouldn't be able to afford such luxury. Not according to his father's many sermons on their debts. The fact that he was now standing in a fully furnished suite could only mean that their final coins had been smashed into the assurance that their voyage would be just another facade to conceal the family's financial downfall. It wasn’t the lavishness that he loathed— it was the pretentious nature of his loving father, who first tumbled flat on his face and now sought to ascend again through his son, too self-satisfied to do as little as admitting his own fatal blunders. A glare was fired right into the patriarch's back, and Roger was about to deliver a snarky remark when the door opened brusquely.

The person he least wished to have around walked in as if she owned the entire place, followed by two maids and the same crew member that'd fulfilled the role of welcoming committee by his lone self. Margaret cast a quick glance around the suite, arriving at the conclusion that it looked precisely the same as hers apart from the personal decorations, and voiced her thoughts to no one in particular. “Did you see those poor beggars of third class enter? I do hope we won't get bothered by any of them.” None seemed to respond physically to the remark, but Roger noticed that one of the maids, who was carefully unpacking an oval mirror, slightly tensed up — if she hadn’t been here in service, third class would have been her only option to travel across the Atlantic. Certainly, the remark had been a harsh kick to her shins, which would leave an aching bruise at best.

He knew it would be best for all their sakes to leave Margaret’s comment for what it was, but the steward lacked the experience and immediately came to reassure her. “Oh, no miss. The upper decks cannot be accessed from below.” Something in his voice revealed that he wasn't referring to “below” in the spatial sense, but the social one. No way to work oneself up; no way to break the barriers. Margaret exhaled with relief, her attention suddenly engaged by an adorned vase full of amber chrysanthemums, which matched the golden piece of jewellery around her elegant neck. “Thank God— I would hate to have to walk among those folk all day long. Imagine the lice!” Her shrill voice rose with each syllable to the point where Roger was tempted to shush her with a finger to the lips. “Lice can jump rather far, can't they?” he muttered nonchalantly, completely unaware if the reply was factually correct in any way, and added the following upon seeing his fiancée’s wide eyes: “probably as far as two entire decks.” In the silence that followed, a dropped needle would have been more deafening than a gunshot. Clare intervened before a full quarrel was able to burst loose, noticing the obviously upset tinge upon Margaret's facial features. “Oh Rog, will you accompany me outside? I’d love to be there when the ship departs,” she admitted with a beam gracing her youthful face, eagerly clutching to her brother's arm while awaiting his reply in anticipation. Roger suppressed a roll of the eyes for the sake of his sister, whom he hated to disappoint, and gave her an affirmative nod. “Sure, Clare. I could use some fresh air.” Before anyone else grasped the opportunity to tag along, he buttoned his woollen overcoat and opened the door, the freedom of the hallway being a more than welcome shift in atmosphere.

—

Two bunk beds. Four suitcases. Four strangers who'd been fortunate enough to scrape enough money together to afford four individual boarding passes. The cabin was compact, unadorned and barely wide enough for two people to pass each other without backs touching. Brian wouldn't complain— not as long he had basic facilities such as a mattress and running water. It was preferable to sleeping on the streets of London during cold winter nights, which he had endured with great difficulty. Snow would stab his shivering limbs without a grain of mercy as the wind would rob what little warmth he could amass. Fingers would be too frozen for strumming, vocal folds too weak for singing. It was during those moments that Brian was fully convinced that hell was not built upon fire, but ice. The only consolation to his wretched condition would arrive when he glanced upwards and noticed celestial smiles of solace. Those immortal stars, their perpetual presence in combination with the light they omitted, brought hope like no mortal ever could. Miserable circumstances made one appreciate little, and right there, on the renowned RMS, Brian felt like a pampered duke.

The guitarist sat on his bed in relative peace as the three roommates had each left the cabin earlier, presumably to explore the enormous vessel or to get their hands on some fresh ocean air. On his lap lay a leather-bound notebook wide-open. Its old pages had turned a pale shade of yellow, its spine was cracked, and various loose sheets had been added as if they embodied several afterthoughts on the penned down words. The book was an extension of his mind; a fountain of lyrics, ideas, and experiences which value-wise could only be outranked by the wooden instrument that slept next to him on the sheets, still in its casket. A sigh escaped through his chapped lips as he casually browsed through the journal, allowing his eyes to relive all the memories that clung to the paper. Some words were concealed underneath dirt stains or had turned simply unreadable due to their pencil streaks being smudged. Among the randomly scribbled thoughts were several entries brimming with facts of mathematics and physics, which he'd overheard on the streets or read in some crumpled newspaper. A fascination for those sciences had emerged at the moment he'd learnt to read, and they'd never let him go since. There was the urge to explore and explain the inexplicable, to find any reasoning behind the unknown, to alleviate his own ignorance. Fingertips traced the syllables of songs that no one would hear, no one but the composer himself. Here the ship sailed out into the blue and sunny morn. The sweetest sight ever seen.

A long-haired head emerged from behind the cabin door — it belonged to a fellow named John who'd claimed the bed above his. “Heard we're about to leave any second now. You don't want to miss this,” was assumed with a promising twinkle in his eyes as he nodded upwards, indicating the outside decks and the unique view it would provide. Indeed, one final honk announced the vessel's long-awaited departure. After safely storing his guitar case underneath the bed, Brian followed his roommate through the narrow halls.

When they arrived on the Shelter Deck, many passengers had already gathered around the ship's railings to bid their loved ones farewell, who were situated on the docks below. Brian had no one to say goodbye to, yet joined in waving at the horde of people, suddenly so full of elation that he couldn't help but bare his teeth into a wide grin. This was truly happening. He was at the gates of a brand new tale of which the famous voyage was only the prologue. The heads among the crowd below, with their handkerchiefs and shouts of adieu, were but ants gazing at a gigantic ark that would redeem past lives and deliver its passengers to a continent of unlimited opportunities. Brian felt the vessel beneath his feet stir, and then slowly come to life. Cheers became louder, resembling a tidal wave of noise that appeared to push the ship further into the ocean. A free seagull hovered by.

That was when his attention was completely absorbed by one particular figure on the upper promenade deck. A young man, staring almost melancholically at the shrinking harbour. Even with the vast distance between them, Brian could notice the air of frustration around the stranger. He thought nothing of it, assuming the guy might simply suffer from early seasickness, and was about to turn away when the other shifted his head slightly, causing their gazes to interlock for the briefest of moments. Brian couldn't blink. Neither could the other man. They were left in a clandestine staring dance, trying to figure out why either of them was unable to look away. Had he been standing any closer, the guitarist would have perceived the vanishing of the deep frown on the stranger's forehead the instant their eyes were introduced to each other. In reality, the moment could only have survived for mere seconds, but amidst the mass of cheering passengers that were solely focused on their ever-shortening connection with the mainland, the brief interval seemed to last an eternity.

“Do you think they're nobles?” John interrupted after following his roommate’s stare at the first class passengers, perceptive enough to see that Brian was glancing at one in particular yet not well enough acquainted with him to provide a teasing remark. “They look posh enough,” he further commented, warming his hands inside the pockets of his tweed jacket. Brian answered absently, now forced to blink and break eye contact with the faraway guy. “I haven't the faintest idea. Not exactly my sort of people.” “Because if they were you'd be up there too?” A shrug. “Perhaps, yeah.” The ends of John's lips turned upwards into an amused smile, not requiring words to convey a clear message: dream on. Fair enough, dreams were the only place where such a reality could ever exist. Maybe the moment Brian had shared with the first class stranger had indeed been mere imagination — a mirage of the most treacherous kind — but it certainly had been more than a king looking down upon a peasant.

#queen fanfic #sailacross #my fics

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wildflowerrambles · 6 years

Text

Ghost of You

Author’s Note: The entire fandom is head over heels for this song & I am no exception. I actually don’t have much to say. I’m just excited to put this out. Feedback is always welcome & I would love to hear what you have to say! Overall, I’m pleased with this & I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! <3

Song Inspiration: Ghost of You - 5SOS Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Reader Word Count: 3,671 Warnings: tears..and alcohol

Luke stirred upon hearing his alarm going off. He laid there, refusing to open his eyes just yet. He heard Petunia let out a sigh at his feet. She hated the sound just as much as he did.

Once the familiar sound went off for the second time, he tapped blindly at his phone screen until the noise ceased. He rolled onto his back and rubbed hard at his eyes. If he could lay here long enough, maybe he could conjure something up. Something - anything - just to help him forget for a few moments.

But he didn’t.

The first thing he saw was the ceiling, the blades of the fan spinning clockwise. He blinked a few more solid times before letting his gaze fall to the other side of the bed. The pillows were still neatly positioned, the sheets and comforter still tucked except for the little bit of pull from where he’d been sleeping under the covers.

It had taken Luke a while to do that - to sleep under the covers. For the longest, he would just use a blanket and sleep on top of the made bed. He finally convinced himself recently that he could actually sleep in the bed.

But he still couldn’t sleep on her side - on your side. He never moved a pillow, never touched the covers past where you would have slept. Petunia never did either. They stayed on his side.

His eyes drifted to the bedside table. Everything was still the same. The candle that smells like mandarin mint, the little aloe your mom had given you, the journal you had written in almost every night. And there, sitting on top, was your coffee cup. Your favorite one - pale pink with the Eiffel Tower barely watercolored in black on the side. You’d gotten it when you had traveled with him to France earlier in the year.

At the top was your lipstick stain. Bright red. But every morning he would notice it begin to fade a little more with each passing day. It had been sitting there since the morning you sat it there, just days before it all happened. You were notorious for leaving mugs around the house.

Luke sat on the edge of the bed, still dressed in the comfy shorts he’d slept in and a hoodie. His guitar rested in his lap as his fingers lazily plucked at the strings. Petunia lay in the open doorway to the bathroom where you were finishing up getting ready for work.

Your heels echoed through the room as you grabbed a lightweight sweater from the closest and pulled it over your sleeveless blouse.

“I’m not going to pretend to know what chords you just played, but they sounded beautiful. You should remember those,” you said, wrapping your fingers around the handle of your coffee mug. You guzzled the remaining liquid caffeine, leaving behind a bright red imprint as you placed the cup on the bedside table.

“Is it time for you to leave already?” Luke reached for your hand to pull you closer. His hands rested on the back of your thighs as you ran your fingers through his day old curls.

“I should have left five minutes ago,” you grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth. Pulling away, you rubbed your thumb across his lips to smear away the lipstick left behind.

“We’re still meeting my parents for dinner, right?” he asked as you slowly stepped away to grab your purse.

“Yes,” you reassured, “I’ll see you after work. Have a good day at the studio and tell the boys I said hello.” You pressed one last kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a signature stain. “I love you.”

He smiled, “And I love you.”

Luke grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, letting it clang against the counter. Opening the opposite cabinet, he reached for a box of cereal that was nearly empty. He opted for another box which he soon realized was almost finished as well. Sighing, he poured the remaining flakes from each box into his bowl.

Stepping to the refrigerator, he opened the door to find no milk. He stared down at the bowl of dry flakes, trying to decide if he wanted to eat them anyway or not. He settled on the latter. He was supposed to meet Ashton soon; he would just grab something on the way.

After throwing on a jacket and slipping into the closest pair of shoes, Luke shuffled into the living room. Scattered across the coffee table were sheets of paper that had been scribbled on. Lyrics, notes, chords. Any little thought that he needed to get out when he sat in the silence of this house.

Off to the side was a glass from last night still holding a sip or two of whiskey. He tasted a small amount and shrugged before downing the rest. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be after sitting out. He shoved a few of the papers from recent nights into a notebook and tucked it under his arm as he headed out the door.

Luke’s fingertips tapped impatiently at his temple. He looked up from staring blankly at his notebook in front of him to see Michael making a face at another one of Ashton’s ideas.

“It’s just not.. I don’t know,” Michael dropped his arms to the side of the chair he was sitting in, leg propped on his knee, “It’s not grabbing my attention.”

Calum hummed in agreement and, as much as he didn’t really want to admit it, Ashton did too. Luke sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

He flipped through the papers they’d already pulled out and looked through, most of them earning no approval. Tucked in the very back was a folded piece of paper. The edges were ripped and it was slightly discolored from a spill of some sort. He flipped it open.

It hit him like a ton of bricks when he realized what it was. The chords you’d liked, the ones you told him to remember. He’d jotted them down once you left that morning and tucked them away in the back of his book.

Luke grabbed a guitar from across the room and began to strum the noted sequence.

“Hey, play that again,” Calum said.

Luke did as the boys all turned their attention to him. Ashton noticed the piece of paper in front of the blonde and snatched it up.

“Where did this come from?” the drummer asked, handing the sheet back to Luke. “Why haven’t you brought it up before?”

Luke contemplated on how to answer that question. He finally shrugged a little.

“It needed to be perfect,” he paused, “Perfect timing, perfect moment.”

Calum scooted over to the piano, strategically mashing a few keys as Luke played the chords again. Ashton was quick to produce a beat with his mouth, searching around for a set of drumsticks much like Michael was doing for a pen and pad.

“Do you know how to waltz? I want to learn how.”

You’d dropped the hint a few days ago, but Luke thought you were joking. He figured it was another one of those ideas that you’d forget after a few days.

But you had taken it upon yourself to search for a few videos on the basics, suggesting that it would be less embarrassing than going to a class to learn.

After watching the video, you helped Luke position his arms the way you’d seen it done. You placed yourself next and tried to remember the tips you’d heard.

As both of you stared down at your feet, you began slowly.

“Back, side, together,” you spoke lowly, “Down, up, up. Down, up, up.”

“One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, whoop!”

You chuckled as Luke stumbled over your feet. His hand gripped your waist, pulling you to his chest. His laughter echoed in your ear.

You continued the cycle of steps for a while, slowly picking up the pace. You were just beginning to feel more confident about it.

“Can we waltz for our first dance?” you asked, a sweet smile gracing your features.

“Do people still do that?” he asked, his brows drawing together.

“Yes,” you laughed.

Luke raised his shoulders a bit as a hum settled in his throat. He grinned, “I’ll think about it.”

Luke mindlessly toyed with the chain around his neck, the ring dangling from the metal - the engagement ring.

It had sat on his dresser for the longest while he pondered what to do with it before settling on wearing it. People had noticed, but no one really said anything.

He released the pricey diamond to rest against his skin again as he reached for the tequila bottle on the counter. Filling a shot glass, he downed it with a twisted expression. Not his brightest idea to take it straight but it would do.

He’d stayed at the studio as long as he could before forcing himself to come home. Although it didn’t really feel like home anymore. Just a space filled with memories that pained him to think about.

He wanted to reach for another bottle of alcohol - something, anything to drown it all out. But he’d done that nearly every night and he knew he had to be at the studio again in the morning.

So instead, he reached for the water bottle, hearing the plastic crinkle under his grasp.

“Are you serious?” Luke’s brother, Jack, asked. His tone held a bit of disapproval that was beginning to rub Luke the wrong way. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am serious,” he said, snatching a shirt from his suitcase. He had hoped this family vacation would be a pleasant one. “It’s not like I met her six months ago. We’ve been together nearly three years. We live together,” he emphasized.

“But marriage?”

Luke turned to his brother who was slipping his feet into a pair of socks. He clenched his jaw together, trying to tune him out as he continued to speak.

“You’re in your early twenties. I mean, how much do you really know about-”

“No one said we had to get married tomorrow, Jack! I haven’t even asked her yet. I’m just thinking about it. I get it, alright. You think I’m young and dumb-”

“I never said-”

“I know that I love her. And she is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. We might spend the next two years being engaged and planning a wedding, but I’m ready. We’re ready.”

Jack rested his hands on his thighs, nodding from where he sat in a chair in the corner of the room.

“Okay,” he cleared his throat, patting Luke on the back, “Okay.”

Calum let himself into Luke’s apartment, not bothering to knock because he knew it wouldn’t be heard from the music he could hear blasting through the door. Luke let out an elongated ‘hey’ when he noticed his friend. He staggered around the boxes in the kitchen, a glass bottle in one hand as he turned the music down a few notches.

“So everything in the kitchen and bathroom has been boxed,” Luke said, pointing in the direction of the rooms, “Ashton helped with the guest room and music room yesterday, so those are good to go. And we started on the living room and our..my room, so that’s what needs to be finished today.”

Calum nodded, chuckling lightly, “You’re on top of things. I’m impressed.”

Luke shook his head as he took a sip, “Don’t be. Ash pretty much laid it out for me.”

The brunette grinned; he should have known.

“I can take your room if you want me to.”

Luke’s gaze fell to the ground before he cleared his throat and looked up again, “It’s okay. I can handle it.”

He disappeared into the bedroom with another box in hand. Calum did the same as he headed for the living room. There wasn’t a whole lot that had to be packed up thankfully. Most of it was just furniture, and he didn’t know how much of that Luke would be taking with him when he moved in with Ashton.

Calum started with the end tables on either side of the couch. They mainly held things such as books and random decorative items collected over the years. Next, he folded the blankets and put them in a box along with the pillows.

He cleared off the coffee table and moved on to the other table against the back wall. Placing some things in a box, he bumped the leg as he went to stand up straight again. A vase sitting near the edge rocked back and forth before falling to the ground and shattering.

Calum mumbled a profanity under his breath. He bent down to pick up the large pieces of ceramic, getting on his knees when he noticed a few shards under the couch. Off to the side, he noticed a dark fabric.

After discarding the broken vase pieces in the trashcan, he came back to retrieve it. It was a tshirt. Holding it open, he realized which one it was. A Led Zeppelin shirt he’d seen you and Luke share many times. One he was too familiar with.

Calum bounced up from his place on the couch when he heard the doorbell ring the first time. It was followed by frantic pounding on the door. He was shocked to find you standing on the other side. Your cheeks were tear stained and your hands were shaking; your palms and knees scraped and crimson.

“What happened?” he tried to suppress the panic in his voice.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go with Luke being gone. You were closer than Michael and-”

Calum had forgotten about Luke and Ashton being on vacation. Your voice was unsteady as he motioned for you to come inside.

“Some guys stole my purse outside my apartment. I didn’t want them to know which one was mine, so I panicked and ran-”

“Did they hurt you?”

You shook your head, “No. I tripped and fell.”

You laughed a little, but tears had started to roll down your cheeks again. Calum noticed blood from your cuts smeared across the Zeppelin logo of your tshirt. He placed his hand gently behind your shoulder, guiding you to take a seat in the kitchen.

“Let’s get some bandages for your scrapes, and then I’ll get you some clean clothes,” he said.

Calum quietly shut the door to his bedroom and tiptoed toward the living room. He grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, keeping his voice low as he spoke on the phone.

“She’s asleep now. We’ve called the police and they’re going to take care of it.” He tried to comfort Luke the best he could through the phone. He knew he wanted to jump on the next flight for home. “She’ll be okay. She can stay here until you get back. I promise I will take good care of her.”

Calum spent the majority of his time cleaning up the living room debating on whether or not he should give Luke the shirt or just pack it up so he could find it later. Now that he was finished, he had to make a decision.

Sighing, he snatched the folded tee and headed to Luke’s room. He leaned against the door frame with his hands crossed behind him.

“You done?”

Calum nodded, looking around the room. Luke had boxed up most of his belongings. He could tell the closet was still in progress, and the stray items still placed about were yours.

“I, um..” he hesitated before pulling out the shirt from behind him, “I found this under the couch.”

The crease in Luke’s forehead disappeared almost instantly; he knew exactly what shirt his friend was holding. He slowly took it from the other boy’s grasp.

Up close, Calum could see the redness that rimmed Luke’s baby blues. Bags and dark circles had settled underneath his eyes as well.

Running a hand through his curls, Luke allowed his back to collide with the nearest wall and slide down until he reached the ground. Calum joined him shortly after. They sat in silence as Luke brought the fabric to his nose. He couldn’t remember who had worn it last, but it still smelled a little like you and that make his heart flutter.

“Have you been to visit?” Calum asked lowly.

Luke nodded his head, “I took some flowers to her tombstone a few days ago. Sunflowers - they were her favorite.”

He knocked his head on the wall, blinking at the ceiling to try and stop tears that threatened to fall.

“This sucks,” he whispered, “I hate being here. I hate not being here. I hate this.”

His lip quivered as he dropped his head. Calum took a deep breath.

“I know we’ve all given you your space the past few months, but you don’t have to do this alone. We’re here for you every step of the way,” Calum said. He felt Luke drop his head to his shoulder, his body beginning to tremble from sobs.

Placing his dishes in the sink, Luke watched you from his peripherals. Your leg had already started shaking up and down as you ate breakfast, a nervous habit you’d picked up in the past few weeks since the incident.

He was supposed to go with you to your apartment this morning to get clothes and any other items you needed for the upcoming week. You’d stayed at your place a few times, but he would sleep over every time. Most nights you just ended up at Luke’s place, and he was okay with that.

Wrapping his lengthy arms around your shoulders from behind, he pressed his lips to your temple. Smiling softly, you pressed a kiss to his lips before continuing with your breakfast.

“I’ve been thinking,” he whispered in your ear. You raised a brow. “What if..you just moved in with me?”

You paused sipping your coffee to focus on him.

“I know you’re not comfortable going back to your apartment, and you’re here most of the time anyway.”

“But I still have a couple months until my lease is u-”

“Don’t worry about your lease,” Luke interrupted, unlacing his arms and taking a seat next to you. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Luke,” you waited, “You don’t have to feel obligated to offer and do something like that.”

He took your hands in his, running his thumb along your jawline. “I don’t feel obligated. I would love to have you here all the time. So if you decide it’s something you want to do, it’s really just a win win situation.”

The air grew silent as you began to really ponder Luke’s offer; you traced imaginary patterns on his hands. Your leg had stopped bouncing. You were still.

“Really?” you asked quietly.

Luke’s mouth tugged into a grin as he shook his head. You hopped up from your stool and stood between his knees, taking his face in your hands and pulling him in. He wasted no time reciprocating the kiss. He would take that as a ‘yes.’

The sound of Luke’s boots echoed through the hollow space. He placed the glass bottles he’d snagged on the ground, the clanking noise bouncing off the naked walls in the empty apartment.

It was empty.

There were no boxes littering the walkway or furniture to absorb the noises. The movers had come to get everything and now the apartment was completely empty. All that was left to do was for him to return the key to the owner of the property in the morning.

Removing the top, he took a sip from one of the bottles, feeling the tingling sensation as it ran down his throat. Luke hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights. The only illumination was coming in through the windows from the surrounding city. He dropped to the floor, crossing his legs. He rubbed hard at his eyes.

He sat in silence for a while, just drinking and letting his mind wander. He tried to convince himself that this was a dream.

Luke pulled out his phone and pressed play to a demo they’d been working on. The melody soon filled the open area as he pushed himself off the ground. He moved his feet to the tempo - the tempo of a waltz.

He closed his eyes as he continued to dance, lifting his arms as if you were there.

And for just a moment, you were.

The hand clutching onto the bottle was replaced with your delicate fingers lacing through his. He opened his eyes to see you smiling up at him. Your feet moved effortlessly with his.

As the music dulled, he reached out to stroke your cheek and you leaned into the gesture. Taking his hand, you pressed it to your mouth.

“You’re going to be just fine, Luke,” your voice was soft and the moonlight twinkled in your eyes, “I promise.”

He blinked when he felt tears swelling behind his lids, and you were gone. He was left holding a nearly empty bottle once again.

Sticking his hand in the pocket of his jacket, he fished out a shot glass. You had gotten it for him years ago. The band’s signature tally mark was printed on it.

Collapsing to the floor, he picked up another bottle and filled the glass. He had stopped fighting the tears minutes ago and now they were streaming down his cheeks at full force. He held the glass in his fingertips as audible sobs began to pass his lips, and he took the shot - a shot of truth.

You were gone.

..that my feet don’t dance like they did with you..

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x reader imagine #luke hemmings x reader fic #5sos #5sos imagine #5sos fic #5sos x reader #wildflowerrambles

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gokailyger84 · 6 years

Note

Headcanon that NB would adore nothing more in the world than to be serenaded and seduced by Danny. And is promptly secretly annoyed/depressed having to write serenades for one-night-stands.

I had Heart Boner on repeat as I was writing this

Ninja Bri/an let out a tired sigh as he sat down at his keyboard.

Turning the device on, he played a couple of scales before opening up the binder next to him on the table and pulling out some rough sheet music, placing it on the music stand.

A few minutes later, Danny entered the home studio. Greeting Ninja Bri/an with a smile, he took up his place next to his partner on the piano bench.

“Ready to start this most awesome sesh, Bri?” Danny asked excitedly.

Ninja Brian glanced at Danny out of the corner of his eye, before giving a sharp, curt nod and returning his gaze back to the sheet music.

Danny reached into his pocket and pulled out several crumpled pieces of paper. Unfolding the mess, he set them on the stand beside Ninja Brian’s sheet music.

The papers were covered in lyrics. Several words crossed out and notes in the margins, littered the surface of the pages.

Ninja Bri/an spared a half-interested look at the scribbled mess of words before he forced himself to focus back on his music.

The lyrics were a rough draft of Danny’s latest love song. He called it Heart Boner.

While on the surface, it sounded like a sweet heart felt song, looking at the lyrics it was just as crude as anything else Danny had written.

But combined with Ninja Bri/an’s choice of a soft rock-ballad tone, and Danny’s natural charm, the song came off more passionate and sensitive than anything they’ve ever created. At least not since ‘Why I Cry’ or ‘Objects of Desire’.

Just another love song to woo an unsuspecting girl for a, most likely, one night stand.

At least, that’s what Ninja Bri/an figured but he was no longer sure.

The current woman Danny was with, had been his longest relationship yet. Ninja Bri/an was used to a revolving door of women coming in and out of their home but this one, he could tell was different.

She was around so much, that even Ninja Bri/an had unintentionally come to know her. Something that he had never bothered with before.

And why should he? The women never lasted more than a few weeks at best. A couple of nights at worst.

But it’d been months since they started dating and even Danny was confiding in Ninja Bri/an that he believed she was the one.

From what he observed, Ninja Bri/an couldn’t disagree.

Which made helping Danny create the new song hurt all the more.

Ninja Bri/an knew he shouldn’t have let himself become so attached to Danny.

It had been just the two of them for so long, Ninja Bri/an couldn’t help but feel jealous.

Even with their on again off again, strictly physical relationship, Ninja Bri/an figured that could be enough for him.

He may never have Danny’s heart but he could always take comfort in the fact that Danny would never truly settle down and that he’d only want Ninja Bri/an by his side.

Looked like that was going to change.

For good.

Ninja Bri/an’s eyes slipped closed as he started to play and Danny began to sing.

When I first looked in your eyes

You were more than just a beauty to me

All my senses shot straight up

I was rock hard emotionally

Ninja Bri/an swallowed thickly, feeling tears stinging the corner of his eyes.

The fact that you and I could plow

Is something I haven’t even thought about…starting now

What he and Danny had was casual. A filler for the lulls between his dates.

I’ve got a heart boner for you

I stand before you stiff and true

How he wished that Danny felt the same towards him. How he wished he could be the one Danny serenaded to.

I wanna blast a load of feelings onto you

Expressing his love and affection through song and action.

This heart boner’s for you

How he wished.

So far gone in his own thoughts, Ninja Bri/an barely held himself back from flinching when he felt a hand rest on his upper thigh.

Opening his eyes, continuing to play the melody, he turned to see Danny staring at him. His brown eyes bright and full of emotion.

You’ve helped me grow into a man

My shallowness is a thing of the past

Ninja Bri/an’s eyes widened as Danny continued to sing. His eyes firmly on Ninja Bri/an. A small smile on his lips.

I want to slam you with my empathy

And then I’ll rail you with my class

Ninja Bri/an’s mind raced with confusion laced questions.

What was Danny doing? What was that expression?

You’ve helped me find maturity

Was he practicing? Practicing for when he’d sing the song for his girlfriend?

I’ll be your wiener king, tee hee

Why was he looking at Ninja Bri/an like that?

I’ve got a heart boner tonight

Feel my love pants growing tight

Ninja Bri/an’s hands were on auto-pilot, gliding over his keyboard. His eyes fixed on Danny, unable to look away from the clear sincerity aimed towards him.

I wanna plug you with respect all through the night

I’ll bust a nut of joy and light

Ninja Bri/an was frozen in place. In disbelief over what was happening.

H-h-h-h-heart boner

He could only watch as Danny lifted his hand, gently caressing Ninja Bri/an’s cheek, causing him to flush hotly.

H-h-h-h-heart boner

Got a h-h-h-h-heart boner

Danny’s smile widened, seeing the blush spreading over Ninja Bri/an’s face.

You are the love that I pursue

Do you feel the feels I feel for you

Lifting his other hand, he cradled Ninja Bri/an’s face and leaned forward.

There’s so much we have yet to do

Now jump me like a kangaroo

Danny stopped, his face only inches away from Ninja Bri/an’s. They were so close their breaths mingled together.

This heart boner’s for you

I stand before you thick and true

I’ll shoot a wad of gleaming romance just for you

This heart boner’s for you

It’s all for you

Tilting his head, his eyes sliding close, Danny covered Ninja Bri/an’s lips with his own.

Ninja Bri/an’s gasped, his fingers hovering in place above the keys. He was unable to move or think. His mind going into overload over the sheer shock of what was happening.

Was Danny really kissing him?

Danny pulled back a bit, one of his hands moving to the back of Ninja Bri/an’s head, combing through his short hair.

“This song isn’t just for her, Bri.” He said before kissing Ninja Bri/an once more. A small press of their lips.

“My feelings for her. For you. They’re the same.”

Ninja Bri/an could feel his body trembling.

Was this for real? Could he be dreaming?

Danny really…

He really…

“I love you, Bri/an.” Danny whispered against his lips.

“I’m sorry it took so long to realize it.”

Ninja Bri/an’s eyes closed as two trails of tears flowed down his cheeks. His hands coming up to lightly grip Danny’s wrists. A clear sign of the need to ground himself. Less he’d drown in the onslaught of emotions he was currently feeling.

Danny smiled, resting his forehead against Ninja Bri/an’s.

His body filling with warmth as he felt Ninja Bri/an’s joy, relief and love flow through their mental link.

It may have taken Danny a long time to figure it out. Figure out just what he felt for Ninja Bri/an but looking at his partner now, feeling his happiness.

His love.

It was worth it.

More than worth it.

#asks #ninja ship party #prompts #polygrumps #my fics #nsp in universe

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ryewi · 6 years

Text

When I’m with you I’m in Utopia [Chapter 4]

Summary: 9 years ago, the world split in two halves, Utopia and Dystopia. One of the laws allows citizens of both worlds to visit the other once in their lifetime, for a whole week, after which, they’re forced to return home. If by any chance, they don’t return, a death punishment is sentenced. Jeon Jungkook, a citizen of Dystopia seemed to be desperate enough to challenge that exact law.

Genre: Utopia!au, Dystopia!au, fluff, angst, drama, to be added~~~

Words: 2k

Warnings: none in this chapter!

< Previous | Part Four | Next >

If there was one thing Faith realized way too late, is that Jungkook’s an astounding singer.

His voice was quiet as he sang on the balcony, wandering off, with eyes focused somewhere far away in the distance. The piece he was singing was from a famous singer, a special song Faith once adored just because of its unique and slow melody. Yet, just as every song sang by big names in the industry, this one too, was killed to the core by radio stations that overplayed it

Jungkook on the other hand, gave a new fresh and interesting feel to it, completely shutting down the original in her ears and bringing all the attention to the new vocals.

“Have you ever had a vocal coach?” Faith asked, startling the boy who was previously lost in his own world. Jungkook looked confused, eyes still fixed on something miles away, not sure why she asked such a question. Was he good? Or was that an implication of, you don’t know how to sing please get someone to help you. Debating about the two sides in his head, Jungkook remembered that Faith wasn’t a type to shade, yet he proceeded to check.

“Why do you ask?”

“You just sound like an angel, that’s all” Faith looked down, intertwining her fingers and releasing them, feeling slightly uneasy all of the sudden. In all honesty, she wanted to ask Jungkook to sing more, his voice was unique and relaxing, but she wasn’t quite sure if he was comfortable with it. Jungkook snorted, lips pulling up in a slight smile, happy that his singing was likable.

“I could sing more if you like it that much” He turned towards her, now completely stealing his attention from the car headlights in the distance and throwing it at the way of his friend. The corners of Faith’s mouth lifted upwards as she nodded along, it was exactly what she craved for.

“Do you have a music wish, perhaps?”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with, Kook” She replied, the cute nickname throwing Jungkook out of balance for a few quick moments. It was Faith’s first time using a nickname, was he supposed to make one for her too? Fai? Fei? Fa? How do you, for the love of God, nickname someone named Faith?!

Jungkook put his music on shuffle, waiting for the lyrics to begin as he hummed along. Faith’s hand was propped on to a little hand, eyes fixed on to the breathtaking profile of his. Jungkook was prepossessing, alluring, magnetic, captivating, delightful and Faith was falling for every little aspect of this lovely person.

Song after song, melody after melody, the boy sang his heart out and after each piece, Faith’s heart tightened in fear of it being the last one. Eventually, around ten songs in, Jungkook skipped the lyrics and she pouted slightly, was it the end already? Could you say already?

“Can I ask you a question?” Jungkook asked, after which the other tensed slightly. Why did the atmosphere change this fast?

“Yeah, I mean, go on”

“Can you tell me more about yourself? Like some interesting memories?” The questions came out of nowhere, completely unexpectedly and she needed a moment to process the words, get her system going.

“I suppose it’s only fair now that I know a lot about you, right?” She began, to which Jungkook nodded, signaling for her to continue.

“Mom does that mean we’re in a good place?” Faith asked, eyes sparkling with a hopeful glow while they played between her parents and sister. They were all smiling, which must’ve meant a good thing, right? They’re all safe now, right?

“Yes honey, we’re chosen for Utopia” Her father began, moving his hands around while speaking, just like he always did. Noticing their daughter’s still confused eyes staring back, both of the adults said in unison, “the better half”.

Faith’s irises nearly disappeared under the cover of her eyelids as she smiled, they were safe. The whole experiment was unreasonable and stupid, but the suspense before the big finish (in this case, announcement) made her anxious. Surely, they didn’t deserve the struggle of experiencing the other world, right?

Her older sister, Luna, was evidently happy for a few moments, celebrating the news and unleashing all the excitement with her family. Then suddenly, she scanned a new message on her phone and the whole atmosphere changed. Luna’s eyes watered and she ran up to her room, refusing to come out for whole two days.

Only a week later, Faith received the news of Luna’s fiancé being chosen as one of the citizens of Dystopia.

“Have they seen each other since then?” Jungkook asked, completely intrigued by the ending of Faith’s little story. She pouted slightly and nodded, remembering that both of them used their one week to visit each other for the last time.

“They have, the first week of the split, Luna travelled to Dystopia, and then the other, they came over, just so both of them can properly part their ways I guess”

“That’s a plot for a novel let me tell you,” Jungkook laughed quietly, Faith following in suit, “we could use their story as a beginning of a book and then later on make a dramatic plot twist”.

Silence fell over them pretty quickly, Faith wondered should she continue her story telling and which topic to choose, while Jungkook thought about what he was the most curious about the other.

“You never told me you had a sister?” He began, eyebrow slightly raising in her direction. Faith realized that she really hasn’t told him anything about Luna, because of reasons that were unknown.

On Faith’s 15th birthday, she was taking a writing literature test. The theme was “White canvas painted black”. It was a pretty open theme, a simple group of letters that allowed students to find symbolism in whatever they thought was appropriate. Faith’s class was full of talented writers, many already competing in national championships in literature, but unfortunately for her, she wasn’t one of them. Never once has a free form theme managed to bring her a good grade, all she was ever good at describing and analyzing, were certain parts of books.

Faith chewed on the eraser as she desperately tried to think of something that would make at least a tiny bit of sense. Tension was suffocating her and she began writing down a few random words that were later on scribbled over. Thankfully, she was seated in the last row, so taking out her phone and texting her sister wasn’t as risky as she thought it would be.

Also, by some kind of outer force, Luna was already hanging around in the area, cheerfully replying to her sister that she’ll be there in a few minutes.

Seconds turned into minutes, hours, weeks, time was limitless in Faith’s mind for exactly 5 minutes as she counted the number of red patches on her plaid red shirt.

Suddenly, five knocks echoed through the quiet classroom and everyone’s attention was quickly on the other side of the room. When Mr. Oakwell gave the permission for them to enter, through the door walked one and only, Faith’s savior, Luna.

Luna was a tall woman, standing straight with a dose of authority. Dark eyes contrasted her blond hair, that was neatly styled into tiny beach waves. Toned legs moved in sync as she walked a few steps away from the entrance, holding her small hands at the front. That day, she wore a black silk shirt, light shorts and black converse.

“Excuse me for this intrusion, Mr...Oakwell, I am Luna Keith, Faith Keith’s older sister and I was told to urgently pick her up because our aunt was just taken into ER” Luna obnoxiously flapped her hands around, painting on a worried expression as her eyes danced between the professor and Faith. Although Faith knew it was a play, she couldn’t have said that the act wasn’t convincing.

“Aunt Keila? Oh my god Luna, is she okay?!” Faith said, standing up from her seat and looking back at her sister. Both of them looked thrown out of balance, providing the whole class with Oscar worth acting.

“Please excuse yourself Faith, it’s okay, please go and see your aunt, she probably needs your support more than I need your papers” Mr. Oakwell hurriedly said, standing up and walking towards her seat, picking up the empty paper and shooing both of them with his hands. The Keith sisters thanked quickly, before they walked out of the building in rushed steps. They were lucky that Mr. Oakwell had a good, but also naïve heart.

Jungkook paid attention to each and every word, smiling while imagining everything the other said. If it was to believe Faith’s words, Luna was as witty and imaginative as her sister. If his trip wasn’t coming to an end, Jungkook would’ve probably asked to meet Luna. Silence enveloped the small space once again and both of them fell victims of their own minds.

Instantaneously, Jungkook’s thoughts wrapped around a strong theme, the boy couldn’t stop thinking about his return. Only one more day that Jungkook had to live in and experience paradise before he escaped with no traces left behind. Once again, he sought comfort, but should the topic be talked about? Was it worth tearing the stiches and deepening the already existing wound?

“Two days, huh?” Faith began and Jungkook didn’t know was he glad or annoyed. What was there to be said? Yeah, I can’t wait to go back to my previous lifestyle, or, I really missed home. Unconsciously though, Jungkook ended up blurting our something extremely bold.

“Will you come and visit me, you know, in Dystopia?”

Faith was evidently left shocked, the features of her face showed disbelief and confusion. She didn’t know what to say, it most definitely hasn’t ever crossed her mind. Travelling to Dystopia? It isn’t something Faith wanted to do. How would she find him? It was an accident that both of them met five days ago. Was she going to survive in there?

“Jungkook, I... you know, this was all an accident and I don’t think we should repeat it” The words came out harsher than how Faith intended them to be. Jungkook shot her a look of incredulity, bewilderment evident on his face. Was she hiding the true thoughts about him all this time? Did he make a mistake sticking around for too long?

“Oh no, no I didn’t-” The female began to stumble with her words, obviously thrown out of balance with the words herself too. Jungkook stood up from the chair, seizing a black leather jacket from the back of his seat and began heading out. Faith ran behind, grabbing on to Jungkook’s sleeve, forcing him to turn around.

“It’s okay, I understand what you wanted to say, I’m sorry that I didn’t take the hints before and left when I should’ve” Jungkook said, eyes starting to water, but with the way he blinked obnoxiously fast, tears disappeared the moment they were formed. Faith lunged forward, enveloping the other in her hands and tightening the hold as much as she could. It shouldn’t end on a bad note, anything, but a bad note.

“No, no Jungkook, there were no hints, I enjoyed your presence, everything was great-”

Despite the truthful reassurance, Jungkook’s pessimist mind didn’t believe a word. He only stood motionless, hands resting on his sides, looking down at the smaller creature that was trying to finish a dark painting with brighter colors.

“I, I will come and visit you Jungkook, I’m just not ready yet-” She continued to ramble, no filter existing between the mind and mouth.

The boy only disconnected two tiny hands from their tight grip behind his back, leading their owner to a chair and sitting her down. Faith’s breath was without any kind of rhythm, occasional hiccups breaking out as she watched the dark-haired boy before her.

“No, you don’t have to, when you think about it, it’s a really stupid idea, don’t come” Jungkook laughed, but the sound was dried out of any emotion, which hurt Faith even more. “I’ll miss you, I’ll miss everything, but, it’s better for it to stay an accident, just like you said”.

With that, he was up and walking, out of the room and entrance door, closing them slowly behind and leaving a broken creature on the other side.

AN: I’m blaming my classmate for this being a day late smh,,,,,,,,,,,,anyway! I hope you liked it, this was a slight buildup for the next chapter that my best friend gave me idea for (thanks Tamara), so I’m moving the drama chapter 5 to 6. It’ll be worth it, believe me. Thank you for reading, and I’ll see you soon!

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