#the temporary phone ws a hand me down

[virgilantejustice]

On the edge of the end of the world

I wrote this when i was supposed to be doing composition coursework while listening to a ton of cello music because cellos are the best instrument. So, enjoy!

Word count: ~2100

T/Ws: mentions of death, apocalypse scenario (tell me if i missed any)

Ships: none

Notes: Honestly, ask me any questions you need to, i don't know if this is confusing or not for people who don't play the cello....

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When it was announced that the world was at an end, Logan’s first thought had been “finally, what took you so long”.

You see, Logan wasn’t a huge fan of ‘the world’.

But, Logan’s second thought had been something more along the lines of, “everyone's leaving”.

And his third thought was, “everyone’s gone”.

Logan usually had a lot of thoughts, far more than just three, all moving around and mixing together on his head like a swarm. But when he watched his parents leave the house with suitcases in tow, when he went to his friends' houses to find them shuttered and empty, when he saw Roman and realized that it was just the two of them now, the two of them against the end of the world, his thoughts had become as sparse and meaningless as the dust on the deserted road.

Deserted, all but for a boy and his cello.

He gripped the cool, wooden neck tightly as he walked. /Everyone had fled, where to Logan simply could not fathom, there was to be no running from the end of the world. But, not to be left out, Logan’s friends had fled with the rest, jumping overboard to escape the sinking ship. But Roman had stayed, as he knew as well as Logan did that they weren't sinking, it was a head on collision that would kill them before they had the chance to drown, no matter how hard they tried.

Perhaps they had gone underground, Logan had heard that many people intended to. But he didn’t understand it. Soon enough there would be no ground to hide beneath. The earth had protected them this long, but now could do no more than a blanket.

After the rest of his family had left so hide in their earthy blanket fort, Logan and Roman went down the road to the local theater. A small-ish building, but plenty big enough for the end of the world to seek out in time.

He had tried to reason with them, tell them that there was no point in running, but they wouldn't listen, and so he had stayed behind. Now it was just him and his cello verses the end of the world, and the theatre seemed an appropriate arena for the final showdown.

The wind blew down the road, whistling and roaring as it was funneled between the rows of houses, picking up dust and blowing Logan’s hair onto his face. He didn’t brush it back into place as he would have liked to, for he held Roman tightly in one hand and his bow in the other. And, besides, he had walked this same path in his head so often that he knew the way.

Logan had promised a long time ago, as soon as he had found out that the world would come to an end, sworn not only to god but to himself, that he would perform before he died. And there wasn’t all that much time left before that was going to happen. He was glad that he had also sworn to himself, as his already tenuous belief in god was dwindling with every brick that fell.

The sky was red with fire and dust and the end of the world, burning like hell had finally risen, like the sun had focused a deadly flare.

Or maybe it was just sunrise.

The last sunrise? The last on earth, certainly, but just because you die and your world ends, the sun will keep on shining, and the other planets certainly won't shed a tear.

There were sirens in the red sky. Blaring sirens, screaming and sighing as they completed their cycle of loud and quiet, high and low, a dog chasing its tail. Logan hoped, as, yes, he had resorted to hope, that he could create better music than their symphony of metal droning.

Logan stood, a lone wolf in a world of dogs, with only a cello to fend off the pack.

He would take those odds, he decided, almost as if he had a choice.

If anyone else had seen the look that was on Logan’s face, they would have called it grim and set, determined and driven. They would have seen the tears in his eyes and the tightness of his lips.

But there was no one left to see the look on Logan’s face.

Although they would have been right.

-

Logan looked out over the seats from the stage. He estimated that there were about two hundred. He doubted that there were enough people left in the county to fill them all. That’s what happens when you're right next to the end of the world.

And so they remained empty.

Logan placed Roman gently on the ground, carefully, as if the end of world would spare a cello, and slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

He didn’t need a phone anymore. Who was there to call? Who was there to call him? Patton had been ‘evacuated’ days ago. Logan really wanted wherever he ended up to be at least marginally safer than a crumbling concert hall on the edge of the end of the word, but he knew that no matter how far you ran, you'd still be on earth.

And Virgil. Virgil seemed to have run away with the rest. He had always said that they would stick it out together, go down together, but you simply cannot deny the call of safety when it is so loud. At least, Virgil couldn’t, nor could he be expected to.

And so there was no one to call. And no one to call him.

His phone landed on the floor of the stage and he ground the heel of his shoe into it. The glass cracked, then it crunched, then it gave completely and turned to dust. Glittering dust and the metal organs and innards that was all that really composed a phone. Logan smiled a grim smile, on the inside at least.

Turning away from the end of that little bit of his world, the bit that he had ended himself, Logan fetched a stool. It had to be a stool. Not a chair. A stool, that was what he had always been told. He found it in the wings, it had a simple wooden circle on three slightly spindly wooden legs. Probably for the backstage crew, but now it was center stage as Logan picked up his cello and his bow and put them together.

Roman's voice sounded thin and reedy as it echoed around the cavernous ceiling of the theatre. Logan scowled at his shaking hands, as he knew that his fear would only get in the way.

But, on the other quivering hand, extra vibrato.

He began to play again, and Roman sang bold and proud with the shaking of his hands adding an ironic warmth into the sound.

Harness the fear and make it work for you, Logan thought. If you can't beat them, control them.

As Logan played, it would have been easy to assume that he was improvising, spewing out one note after the other with little to no plan. But improvisation wasn’t exactly Logan’s strong suit.

In actuality, he could simply play from memory. Muscle memory to be precise. He wasn’t quite sure what the next note would be, but he knew that his hands would find it if he just didn’t think too much.

That also wasn’t his strong suit. But, his unwieldy fingers found a way, and Roman sang.

Logan felt himself sway slightly from side to side. He had never been one to obey the marking of espressivo that found itself on his music far too often, but he supposed that now was as good a time as any to explore the romantic era.

He raised his elbows, as he had always been told to do, and pushed even harder still, distilling gold from the aluminum of the four strings, as Roman began to sing more beautifully than Logan had ever managed to coax from him.

The bracelet that hung from his wrist clattered against Roman’s body with each sweep down his neck into fourth position. His teacher had always told him to take it off before he began to play. But his teacher wasn’t here. And so each high note, each harmonic, each glissando was accompanied by a small clicking sound as the metal beads flittered against Roman's shoulder.

He willed his hands to work faster still, his fingers to push harder until they turned white and ached like he had frozen them in ice. But they worked and pushed and played more beautifully than anyone had ever heard him play, more beautifully than anyone ever would.

A part of him was bitter for that, but he had no time to dwell on it, no time at all. All that mattered was that they played. Boy and cello, playing as one.

A scuttling came from somewhere behind him but he didn’t turn around to see. Earth was a sinking ship, and the rats were still aboard.

Something fell on Logan’s right. Not close enough to hit him, but close enough to startle him into dropping his bow. He picked it up again without so much as a word and looked it over. There was a scratch on one side. Logan didn’t much care, so he began to play once again. Nothing as common as a collapsing building was going to stop them playing.

The end of the world was going to have to face them itself if it wanted them dead.

And so he played and played, closing his eyes so that he didn’t stop playing as the ceiling collapsed around him.

When his eyes were open, he was facing death. But when they were closed, he had some extra percussion from the crashing down of his little, temporary world. So he kept them closed and led his orchestra in their cello concerto.

When it seemed the world could hold no more of his music, crumbling as it was, Logan stopped, drawing out the final note on a perfect cadence and letting the sting continue to vibrate, unwilling to stop Roman from singing so soon.

There were so many gaps in the surviving walls that they looked like lace, and Logan could see the red sky, bleeding onto the reddened earth.

“The world is dead, Roman,” he said, licking his dry lips and shaking his sore hands. “Am I to die with it?”

You see, Logan didn’t much want to die yet, but of course: “Only a for considers oneself above death,” he swallowed, “perhaps I'm more foolish than I like to believe.”

Logan blinked and squinted a little (absolutely not holding back tears, and offended at the suggestion) as he placed his hands back on his cello’s body to rest.

“I sound like you,” Logan continued, gazing down at Roman. “All these unnecessary decorations.”

He sounded a little like these words should have been spoken with a laugh, even just a small, dry one. But he didn’t laugh. Not even at the fact that he was speaking to his own cello while drowning in the apocalypse. Instead, Logan ran a hand softly over Roman’s head, letting his fingers fall into the gentle rises and falls and cervices of the carved curl.

‘Unnecessary’ was such a subjective word. The curls and cutouts that covered Roman’s head and bridge and sound holes may not change the sound, but all of this talk of necessity called into question the necessity of music itself, and therefore the integrity of the artform.

“Perhaps,” Logan told Roman, “if the purpose of music is to beautiful, the tools with which one makes it should be beautiful also.”

As another section of the ceiling feinted and collapsed in on the building, a new ray of sunlight shone onto the stage, and Roman preened in it, glowing and reaching out to his audience.

Logan smiled, just a little, just the tiniest little bit, and he placed his hand back on the strings.

This time he played something different. His hands glided up and down and his fingers moved with far more grace than ferocity.

Logan smiled at the end of the world as his gentle melody reached out, as Roman reached out, to where the other walls of the theatre once stood, long fallen with no heed from either of them. Roman reached out a hand, or was it Logan, and together they welcomed the end with suppressed tears and smile alike, and a song in their outstretched fingers.

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[elbutter]

I Give Up ( A BTS V/Taehyung Imagine) - Part 1

Summary: high school!AU where you and V are neighbhors your whole life and you grew very strong feelings for him and then you saw him with another girl and it breaks your heart.

Characters: AU! V/Taehyung x Reader

Warning(s): none

Word Count: 1350

Author’s Note: This is a sample for an imagine. But, you can request any scenarios you want except for smuts.

ctto of the pic⬇⬇

Part 2 ***

You and Taehyung were neighbors your whole life. And as the both of you were growing up you grew very strong feelings for him. You couldn’t even go a day without talking or being close to him. Not even seeing him could make you cry.

Yes. You were madly in love with him. But, not so madly in love that you would only keep him to yourself.

Well anyways, it was a very normal and usual day. You were getting ready for school and you were going to be very late if you don’t hurry up eating. Not late for school, though. Late to see Taehyung going out of the doors of his house and walking with him to school.

This became your habit ever since 5th Grade. Going out at the same time of your houses, walking to school together, and then parting ways for your classes. You finished your breakfast, collected all your things and went out the door just in time for Taehyung to get out of his. You smiled at one another and started walking.

“Good Morning!!” You greeted him brightly.

“Good Morning!!” He greeted back brightly.

There it was again. The very smile that you fell for. Then, again, he doesn’t smile this bright normally in the morning. You hoped that it was because of you. You hoped.

Your walk to school was full of randim and silly conversations. Unicorns, the cat falling down the table, the fog with the derp face. And you, resisting the urge to ask him the reason why he’s smiling so brightly in the morning knowing that the reason might hurt you. Either way, you loved having these random and fun conversations with him. You were bestfriends afterall, and neighbors at that.

When you arrived at school, both of you were walking together to your lockers. Which, were beside each others ’ lockers. Unfortunately. Yes, Taehyung was a fun guy and all but he is a playboy. And everyday he would push some girl between him and his locker and have a full on make out session. It was okay with you, though. You thought that he doesn’t love them and they were just temporary flings.

Anyways, your first period was English. And you being a half-(Y/Nationality), you had pretty high grades. While getting your notebooks, you heard that familiar smash again.

“God! Taehyung! Get a room!!” You remarked and shut your locker before turning around and stopping your tears. You’ve gotten pretty good at it and it got really handy. Because, there were some days where you’d go full on Crybaby.

Halfway to your classroom, you heard someone call your name and immediately practices putting on a fake smile.

“Y/N!!!” Jimin enthusiastically called. You turned around with a fake smile plastered on your face. Jimin was your other bestfriend. The one who you talk about your problems to, your feelings, and sometimes just have fun. In a simple way, he could be your diary. And another thing is, he can read you better than Taehyung. You admit that that hurt a bit. Jimin reading you better than Taehyung does, but that’s what you do best. Enduring the pain. Jimin pouted his lips as soon as he recognized your smile.

“Was he and some girl at it again?” He asked his voice turning dark. You nodded slowly, giving him a sad smile.

“Tsk. Forget him for now. Let’s get to our class.” He said and grabbed your wrist dragging you to the classroom.

An hour later, you and Jimin's English class was over and the both of you went your separate ways to go to your lockers. After getting your things for your next class, you decided to stop by the cafeteria to buy some food. Your walk to the cafeteria was a long walk, you had to pass through some hallways, that creeps you out, before getting there.

While walking past a hall way, you heard the very familiar voice that you loved. Taehyung's. His words were a little jumbled but maybe it was because of the distance that you can't hear him well. You went a little closer in order to hear him clearer. And when you heard what he said, you wished you hadn't.

"I love you! Okay?!" Taehyung shouted.

This. This was the last straw. You finally let your tears out. Staying where you were for a few more seconds before turning your back and finding your way towards the girls' comfort room. You went in the nearest stall and started crying your eyes out for a few moments before picking your phone out from your pocket and texted Jimin.

 To: Mochi Jiminnie😉  Hey, Mochi. Let's cut. Fetch me at my locker.

You stood up from your sitting position and went out of the stall. You went towards the mirror and observed your face. It was a good thing that the only make-up you wore was a waterproof eyeliner and a lipstick. Or else your face would look like cake icing.

You washed your face and retouched your eyeliner hoping that it would hide the redness and swelling of your eyes from crying. A few moments of motivating yourself later, you went out of the comfort room and straight to your locker where Jimin was being his usual mochi self again.

"Jimin-ahhh!!" You shouted his name and hugged him. And all that chuckling became sobs. Jimin was patting your back trying to make you feel better.

"Min-ah, he said it. It hurts. It hurts a lot more than I expected." You managed to say through your sobs. You kept that position for a while. You hugging Jimin and him patting your head or your back. You were so thankful that you had someone like Jimin. Why couldn't you have just fallen for him? He wasn't a play boy like Taehyung. So, the chances of you having daily torture with him was lesser.

When you finally recovered, Jimin lend you his handkerchief.

"Jimin-ah, what kind of guy still brings a hanky with him?" You asked him lightly chuckling. He 'thought' of it for a while and smiled.

"An awesome one." He answered and winked. You laughed a little at his answer.

"So where'd you wanna go?" He questioned. You thought of it for a little while and suddenly remembered your last few days of strawberry craving.

"Anywhere where strawberries can be digested." You answered.

As soon as you and Jimin were ready to leave, you had already put your things to your locker, Taehyung ws staring at both you and Jimin with his bewildered face. You stared back at him questionably.

"Wut?" You announced. That seemed to snap him out of his trance.

"Where are you two going?"

Oh no, he was getting all older-brothery again. You hated it when he acts like this. And you're hating it more now. How dare he interrogate you when you were with another guy?! You never even once thought of doing something like this to him when you see him with another fling!

Your faced darkened before glaring at him.

"Why do you care?" You sassed. "Ugh, whatever. Min-ah, let's go." And you grabbed Jimin's hand before dragging him out of the school doors.

"Yah! Y/N-yah!!" You heard Taehyung shout before going out completely.

"Where's your car?" You asked Jimin.

"It's over there by the fence." He directed. "Why don't you stay here for a while and I'll just go get my car and pick you up here."

"Yeah, sure. But hurry. He might come here. He's getting all oppa-mode." You stated and he jogged to his car.

You grabbed your earphones from your sling bag and connected it to your phone. Ailee's 'I'll Show You' started playing.

Just the song I need. You thought.

And someone suddenly grabbed your wrist from the back and turned you around.

---

End of Part 1