#there are more thoughts here but I have to be up for work tmrrw | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nejiraez · 4 years

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one day, you all will know true peace when i stop making bakugou the default character to the maladaptive daydreamz i write. but until then...

get well soon! | bakugou katsuki

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader // 2.9k words

genre: fluff — contains spoilers from mha chap 298; includes kissing, thats it!

summary: free bakugou until it’s backwards!!! but until then, he appreciates having your presence around as he takes the time to properly heal.

the way i haven’t written a full fic since oct </3... but i needed to post this b4 aquarius season ends tmrrw...

He’s never had to stay this long in a hospital before.

Sure, there were minor check-ins that he had to tend to at the clinics every so often from the injuries he’s received, but he never had to stay more than a few days at hand.

“Only a couple more days until you’re discharged…”

The sound of your voice prompts Bakugou to shift his gaze away from the TV screen stationed at the corner of his hospital room to focus his sights on you. Deep shades of scarlet watch as your hands absent-mindedly pick at the white petals from the bouquet that his mother had gifted him.

Carnations, a ‘get well soon’ present that would prompt him back to wellness. They were becoming quite the eyesore. The stems were beginning to droop and dull in colour with how poorly maintained they had been kept for the past week.

“That must be exciting for you, yeah?”

Bakugou shrugs, but he’s quick to regret his slight movement due to the small wince that follows shortly after. Despite being placed in the hospital for a little over a week now, a great mass of Bakugou’s body still aches. “It’s whatever,” he mutters, dismissing the subject matter altogether, “I’ll be back to doing the same crap over again anyway, so it’s nothing special.”

Closing your eyes, you sink yourself further down into your seat near his bedside and sigh. The windows a few steps away from Bakugou’s left allow for the sun’s late afternoon glow to beam into his room. You’ve sat here with him for the past two hours and a half from when you first came.

“You’re so pessimistic, you know that?” You announce, resting your arms against the bed’s side rails, which promote access to you, propping your cheek onto your hands with your face turned towards Bakugou. “Always thinking so negatively.”

Choosing not to respond to your comment, Bakugou soaks in the brief silence shared within the confines of his room.

For the past few days, other than his immediate family, who was relentless about visiting him as much as they could- save for the days where work would pull them away- your regular visits were something that became apart of Bakugou’s daily schedule.

Wake up. Eat whatever shitty food the kitchen staff has to offer for the day. Wait through numerous check-ups and appointments, while the nurses examine the vital state of his internal organs. And then, he has a bit of free time to himself before either you or any visitor arrives at Hosu General hospital.

“I’m just telling it as it is.”

Bakugou would be lying if he said that he didn’t look forward to your visits.

Like Pavlov’s law, he’s grown conditioned upon awaiting your arrival every day, always finding himself sitting a bit straighter in his bed whenever 15:00 rolled around on the clock.

Growing bored with not much to do, Bakugou allows his eyes to wander the room, skimming each object with little to no thought before his eyes would drop down on your form once again. With your eyes still closed, Bakugou takes this chance to absorb your presence before him fully. Watching the tiny twitches that would happen every now and then on your face out of curiosity.

The amount of fear and dread that washed over you the moment you caught news of how Bakugou jumped in front of his childhood friend, Midoriya, to spare his life, in turn, putting his own on the line had you aching to the bone.

You were scared and couldn’t bring yourself to the thought that you would lose him, and there wasn’t much that you could do about it since you and a few others were far from where the main fight had gone down.

Regardless of whether Bakugou had a chance of waking up or not, you were still adamant about swinging by his hospital room as often as you could until the second day where he miraculously woke up. And caused an uproar as he did. He had to be restrained as he tried to check up on the others’ wellbeing as he did so.

To be placed inside of a room alone, with no one around to tell him what the fuck exactly went on, Bakugou was on edge. Hands down, that day would take the cake as being the most overwhelming experience he has had at his time here. Where were was Deku, for starters? And where did you disappear off to?

He really didn’t deserve you.

Pulling himself out from his thoughts, Bakugou breaks the silence to pester you with something. “Pass me that, will you?” He asks, nodding his head over to the sole snack that sat on his bedside table. Something that one of the nurses left behind for him after his physical exam.

You blink, snapping yourself back to reality. You crane your next behind you, following his line of sight to the bright Tarami packaging. “Sure,” you grab and toss it for him to take.

Bakugou grunts out his gratitude. “Getting to eat normal food again will be the pinnacle of my life,” he states, rolling the Tarami around in his hands. “They feed us nothing but literal dog water and bland shit. “

“I’m sure the staff is trying their best. You aren’t the only mouth they feed in here after all,” you say, referencing the fact that your other peers, such as Todoroki and Midoriya to name a few, found themselves in the same situation as he did.

“I fuckin’ guess,” he mutters in response, his focus shifted onto trying to rip open his snack but to no avail.

“Want me to - ”

“Don’t need it,” he says, cutting your sentence short. His bandaged thumbs are still fumbling to get a good grip on the plastic seal that stood in the way between him and his fruit cup. “This stupid gauze is just - ” The cup tumbles out from his hold and rolls out onto his lap. ��Dammit!”

You smile at the display in front of you. Bakugou glaring at the container as if it had crossed him wrong was quite the sight to see. The fact that he has shown no signs of making another attempt at opening the seal gave you an indication that it was your turn to step in.

What a dork.

“Jesus, Katsuki,” you say, shaking your head at his stubborn nature. You take the fruit cup off his lap and, without issue tear the seal off before passing it back to him. He was too headstrong for his own good sometimes. “Nobody’s gonna bite you if you ask for help once in a while.”

Bakugou scoffs - losing steam now, he tips the rim of the cup against his lips, knocking back as many diced peaches he could fit inside of his mouth.

A mix of wonder and admiration suddenly crosses you as you study how quick he is to swallow down his food. Not even bothering to make use of the silver spoon left astray on the stand.

Bakugou silently chews. His cheeks have bulked up in size for the time being until all traces of food have been gone. Cute. “You’re so - ” You start but cut yourself short, wanting to enjoy the serene atmosphere rather than spurring him to the edge towards nagging at you.

You reach your hand out towards Bakugou, thumb grazing the corner of his mouth to clean the small mess he has made, to which he gently swats your hand away. His mannerisms were still the same as ever, never changing.

“I’m so what?” He asks, flicking his attention onto you as he watches the way your eyes linger on his face.

“You’re so amazing, was what I was going to say.”

“Damn straight.”

You half-heartedly roll your eyes at his narcissistic response and reach for your phone, checking the time. “Wow, it’s now getting to 18:00?” You exclaim, swiftly entering the passcode to your iPhone and so that your fingers could scroll to the Tokyo Train Navigation app to check the times of when you should catch the next ride home.

Bakugou brows bump together in confusion at your surprise. “What about it? That means you’re ditching me already?”

“Only for today though, the next train is coming in 30 minutes, and I gotta catch it before it gets dark out.”

As much as Bakugou isn’t a big fan of having your time spent together but abruptly short, he understands where you’re coming from, mentally putting himself in your shoes.

At hours like these, when the begins to sun hide behind the city’s tall, towering buildings, it isn’t an ideal situation to have you walking out alone in the middle of dimly lit streets where villains may lurk at any corner. Especially after the shit show that went down this past week with the jailbreak.

He’d have no problem walking you home at times like this, but he can’t. Not when he’s on a “house arrest” list with the staff of the hospital.

“Fine,” he replies, dropping his head into his hands, which then finds purchase through his hair. Pissed with the cards he’s been dealt with. Feeling like he should clarify about your safety, Bakugou pipes up, “Make sure you ask the front desk to have one of their idiot guards walk you to the station. I hear that they do that.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, collecting your belongings from the ground. “Not trying to be edited in with the clouds.” A remark that was supposed to prompt a lighthearted, humorous feel to the conversation, but Bakugou remains tight-lipped as ever. A fitting expression for your grouch of a boyfriend.

“I’m serious. Text me when you get home too.”

“And so am I! I love my life.”

And he loves you-- was something that Bakugou refrains himself from saying. It was something that he still had trouble saying verbally but had no difficulty expressing.

You walk towards the door, ready to bid your counterpart a farewell, but he beats you to the punch.

“The hell are you doing?” Bakugou’s voice halts you from making your grand exit.

He stares at you sharply from his bed. Glowering with jaw taut as he eyes your hand placed onto the sliding door. “Cut that shit out, come back.”

“For why?”

You hear Bakugou breathe out a hushed hiss, becoming peeved at how evasive you were when he knew for a fact that you were aware of what he wanted you to do for him. “Come and do the thing.”

At his sudden inquiry, you finally turn around to face him. “What thing?” You prod, wanting to hear him say what he wanted out loud. To be straightforward with you for once rather than dancing around the topic like he always does.

Sidestepping the multiple wires and the IV tube that he was hooked up to, at last, you close the distance between you both. Finding yourself back beside Bakugou’s bed, and now settle yourself down onto the small space that he has created for you on his mattress.

You feel giddy. A hazy warmth exudes from your chest that spreads down to your toes as you watch the slow change of pigmentation in Bakugou’s face. Blotches of a soft, rosy pink littered his exposed neck, indicating the effect that had over him.

Caving in, Bakugou swallows down his pride and utters, “Kiss me…” His tone is wavering in the slightest.

There it was.

Propping your hand near Bakugou’s face to steady yourself, you nod. You’re gentle in the process as you move much closer to Bakugou, attentive as not to brush up against any of his wounds. “Okay,” you murmur.

You think to yourself about how pretty looks from your point of view. Admiring how Bakugou's plush and soft skin was despite the light bruises and scratches he’s gained from the fight, he looked very well-maintained for a hospital patient.

The more time that you take, you become aware of the fact that Bakugou isn’t above taking a fistful of your shirt and tugging you down so that you could meet his lips. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise you if he were to do so right now.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he waits. Patiently, for you to make your move and just fucking kiss him already. Though there’s only so much he can take before he breaks.

Feeling the bed dip beside him, Bakugou could damn near feel his heart hammering against his chest. “Hurry up and get on with it will you,” he chides, his striking features already beginning to twist into an unreadable expression.

You laugh, unable to bite back your giggles as the male fixed you with his signature scowl. “Look at you, being a bully to the person you want a kiss from...” You say, leaning in close, now only hovering a few mere centimetres from his lips, both of you desperate for what would come next.

“You’re so mean, I swear.”

And that’s when you decide to close the distance, pressing your lips together.

It was quite sweet, literally, for his lips tasted of citrus.

Bakugou does a poor job at suppressing down his groan the moment your fingers wind themselves into his hair. The pads of your fingertips adoringly dance across his scalp.

The kiss starts off relatively chaste, both of you relishing in each other’s warmth as you pepper several small kisses against him—your stomach ties into knots as you experience how gentle he was being with you.

Despite the dull aching pains that Bakugou could still perceive whenever he made broad movements with his arm, his hand steadily finds its way to reach up towards your neck, pressing you further against him to deepen the kiss, swiping his tongue upon your lower lip.

When your tongue comes into contact with his, it’s tentative and quick. And then it happens a few more times before fully feel comfortable enough to full-on kiss Bakugou.

Your thought process was growing muddled. Not a clear premise came to mind as his bandaged hand trails to the small of your back and back up again.

With every sound or hum of approval that you made way past your lips, it fed Bakugou’s desire to satisfy both you and his needs even. His thumb smooths over the curve of your jaw, easing your nerves each time you shyly pull away attributable to the great intimacy that swirled between you both.

He chases your lips, fervent on returning your energy that you were relaying to him, back tenfold. He loves you. So fucking much, and he only hopes that his appreciation and devotion may reach you.

You choke on a tiny gasp. “Katsuki - ” And that’s when he feels it, right in his chest. It’s as if he has been jump-started back to life, his heart quite literally skipping a beat at the sound of his name tumbling past your lips. It was adorable, and he wanted to hear you like that again. Say his name like that again, on loop without end.

Fuck.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, your breathing was starting to grow laboured now, and you decide to break the kiss before things can escalate and before you miss your train.

Pulling away from Bakugou, the traces of confidence that you once had prior to the kiss have all but flung itself out the window, completely gone now. “I’ll, uhm -” You stammer over your words, brain trying to compose a proper sentence in spite of your current dazed state. “I’ll be back to see you again, with the others.”

With how flustered and scatterbrained you were acting, it stroked Bakugou’s ego beyond belief. A wicked smile threatens to split upon his face, but he bites it down along with his greed to ask for one more kiss before you go. “Tomorrow,” he affirms, flicking his eyes back towards the TV—an entirely new show publicized on its screen.

You hoist yourself up from the bed and stand to your feet, ignoring how your knees almost buckle. “Right,” you say. No fucking way were you this beat up over making out with your own boyfriend, for crying out loud- you thought as you wander towards the door, almost taking out one of the monitors in your trail.

Sliding the door open you step out, but you poke your head back in, stalling a bit so that you could look at the blonde for the last time that day. “But until then, get well soon, okay?”

Bakugou’s eyes stay glued to the screen, trying to distract himself from how damn sweaty his palms were, that or how he could feel the beat of his heart pick up in tempo. Its incessant pounding was all too much for him.

It’s so stupid how whipped he found himself to be nowadays. “I know,” he dismisses, a bit all too quickly. He wants your ass out before you have a chance to glance at the heart monitor he was wired up to.

Fortunately enough for him, you don’t. You wave and close the door behind you, your smile being the last thing he sees.

With the coast clear, Bakugou throws himself back onto his mountain of pillows. “Shit,” he curses, panting out a sigh of relief seconds after you were gone.

That was amazing, you were amazing, he thought, recounting the kiss. He swipes his palms against his sheets, being sure to get rid of any nitroglycerin that may linger to activate his quirk successfully.

Bakugou can’t stress how much he’s aching for nightfall to come, knowing that he would be one sleep from getting to see you again, and again, and again, until he would finally be let free.

But until then, as you had said, he had to heal.

And with the knowledge of you being around whenever he needed you the most, Bakugou was most definitely on the bright path to a speedy recovery.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha imagine #bnha imagine #bnha scenario #original #cress to charlize for snagging this screencap from a twt thread mwah

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safehven · 2 years

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...i had a thought train going while in the shower abt my feelings towards genshin, but i can't fully remember it nfjjcjfkjc so i'll piece together what i rmbr

there are times when genshin is my bread and butter. the good stuff. the 'ice cold tea on a summers day'. the fcukin' 'stretch that makes ya bones crunch and ya toes curl'. it (for a while) satisfies my need for fantasy worlds and cool-looking characters with big weapons and elemental superpowers beating up huge fcukin monsters.

it makes me happy. and i'm glad it still does, even when i'm not in the mood to play it.

but there are times where i just want to go back in time and tell myself "for the love of GOD PLEASE pick another game!!!" bcuz it could be so much better. in many, many aspects. so many that i'd probably be here all night (and i have work tmrrw so im not gonna do that-)

one of those things being character design, if i were to pick one. and i get it, they're already spending hours and hours trying to make sure the game models don't crazily glitch when doing the most basic attacks. but if the game models are already supposed to be 'Very Distinct' from the npc models, why not go further? give the characters more details that emphasize who they are and were as a character!

fxukin' make zhongli Look Old! give him wrinkles, give him crow's feet, add silvers of grey in his hair! make him look like the old man that he is!

give diluc burn scars on his arms! he was nowhere near close to controlling his vision when he was young, so show it! show that he's grown, but still bears scars (both physically and emotionally) also make him short. it would be funny

fcukin give child characters like klee, xingqiu, hu tao, qiqi even, snaggle teeth or just missing teeth! give them the wonky yet adorable smiles children are always bound to have! (hell, even the adults too!)

make characters fuckin dark. Black, even, bcuz the dusty lookin' tones the already dark characters have are BARELY cutting it. give characters that you know have been hanging out in the sun a different skin tone other than Vanilla Ice Cream White™.

make ganyu fat. just make her fat, what were you so afraid of to not make her fat? cowards.

just. give more character™ to the characters youve already made.

#speaking #tbd #(i like how i used 'you' as if mihoyo is gonna fucking read Any of this dsikdsf)#.....idk just a lotta thoughts abt it. i'll delete this later. i just wanted to get it outta my system #a little influenced by twt ngl. a little influenced by having not played for...a month i think #and somewhat influenced by the fact that im saving for a switch rn #and looking at the money ive spent (not in one sitting Thank God) overall on genshin. makes me realize.#that i Very Much couldve bought one rn #)-)o it kills me. it really does #and thats Another thing abt genshin that needs fixing. but arguably cant. bcuz theyve never lied abt it being a gacha game #it always has been from day one #but the fact that gacha is a thing in the first place. accented w/ the near bank-breaking and often empty promise of pretty anime charas #makes it just Real Bad jim

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dread-and-despair-dyke · 3 years

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Are you able to go for a walk? Preferably in a park or in nature? I know walking for 30 minutes to an hour while looking at nature or observing animals (or even just listening to music) tends to calm me down and put me in a slightly better mood when I'm in a bad headspace. Taking a bath, washing/doing my hair, using one of those face masks, etc. Anything where you're taking care of your body might help. And trying to be as present as you can and focusing on the sensation. I'm not the best at doing that but sometimes it helps when I get a little too stuck in my head.

I hope you feel better soon 💕

this is very sweet of u anon ily so much

it's like 11pm here rn, and i get anxious walking out in the dark so i cant do that rn unfortunately but i think ill try and go out tomorrow, it wld be good for me i think

as per recommendation of my therapist and other people here, I try to think abt mindfulness techniques and being present in the moment, but i think maybe i just need more practice on that kind of thing! since i can't currently get it to work lol ;w; i will try to get an early night maybe, and do some of these things tmrrw <3 <3 <3

going to ramble-vent aimlessly under the cut, nothing coherent

nobody needs to read this but its only in this post bc i thought abt it in relation to the things mentioned above

but i think somth i struggle with is having issues with depressive or anxious thoughts/emotions coming in if I'm not intensely preoccupied - e.g. if im showering or taking a bath (don't worry, i do these things anyway lol), taking a walk (dont do this one as often, whoops), other things where the activity doesn't require much 'thinking', I start to spiral into anxiety particularly in those moments where I don't have something to think about

And my levels of how preoccupied i have to be to avoid the anxious thoughts coming in have only gotten higher over time- now i can be trying to play a game or listen to music and bring myself back to focusing on it every 30 seconds or so, but I still manage to get anxious about whatever it is in my mind at that time. It is the same whether I am doing nothing, or am occupied with one thing, or occupied with three things; I can't let the thoughts pass through, they just stay in my brain stubbornly and don't leave until they've reached their conclusion half an hour later, at which point I am mentally exhausted from overthinking so rapidly for so long, emotionally exhausted from all the anxiety, and physically just kind of achy from standing up in a shower for half an hour. At which point, I get out and then lie in bed for the rest of the day because being alive feel so goddamn bad.

i think it's because, my mind not being preoccupied means I have to think about things in real life! ah, i get to think about such joyous things as: how absolutely incapable of feeling connection with others I am, how subsequently lonely i am, my actions and mistakes, the way that even my best efforts aren't enough for people, every hypothetical situation in which a problem might arise, how i should prepare for each of those hypothetical and unlikely problems, how i would fix any and every problem, how people perceive me, how i'm a burden to the people around me, the way that my best judgement will always still be 'bigoted' to somebody, my responsibilities that i have long abandoned, the people i used to know whose lives continue while i stay stagnant, the way that i can't keep putting off these issues forever, general existential dread...

...and other fun things to think about for half an hour while I stand in the shower forgetting that i was meant to be actually showering!

I have spoken with my therapist about these things before, I think. We talk through the logic of it, and of course there are always CBT sheets talking about how it isn't accurate to real life to think in such a way, and sometimes i agree. but even when I do agree, it doesn't stop the thoughts from happening. they happen whether i agree with the logic behind them or not, the logic is always biased in favour of assuming the worst outcome of everything, because that's just how I'm used to thinking. Because that's how life goes anyway, It's always bad, even if an outcome initially assumed to be 'good' happens, it turns out to be bad anyway, or at best it turns out to be just neutral.

There is no good, there is just hope sometimes, and love. But I don't have those things either! oh well. time to sleep.

#deepthoughtsTM #this one got uhh pretty fuckin long bois #haha what if i screencapped this and sent it to my therapist who i havent spoken to in months #im sure she would #uh #probably suggest i schedule another appointment with her #but i find talking so hard #i cant stay mentally present in the conversation bc im too busy worrying about how hard it is to stay mentally present in the conversation

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outerspaceisbetterthannothing · 6 years

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Blame [Surgeon!Calum AU] Ch.3

Summary: What do you do if the only person you feel the connection to is the person you blamed for your sibling’s death?

A/N: This thing came up from my headass asks to wonderful Summer about neonatal surgeon!Calum au, which you can see here and here and here to understand the concept. I didn’t plan to do it at all, but the idea stuck in my mind and with support and encouragement from Summer, I came up with that. This is my first time publishing anything on Tumblr, so the feedback is extremely appreciated. Enjoy

Warnings: much less angst (I promised it’ll get better very soon), couple curse words, lack of proofreading

Chapter 3

The morning was gloomy just like Anna’s mood. She yawned again and switched off the stove, her fried eggs almost ready. She grimaced, moving them to the plate and sitting at the table. She didn’t like fried eggs, but that was basically the last piece of food in her fridge.

She remembered yesterday’s wish to cook something for dinner. Like there was anything to actually cook.

She added grocery shopping to the to-do list she was currently making up in her head and winced at too bitter taste of coffee. She ran out of milk… when exactly? Last week?

Anna wasn’t typically so bad at housekeeping. But last week’s events really messed with her routine. If things had gone differently, she wouldn’t have sat here having breakfast out of the last two eggs from her fridge. She would have been staying at Staten Island with her parents, helping around the house. She’d planned to be back to her flat the very morning of her first classes and purposefully emptied her fridge not really wishing to deal with spoilt leftovers. Now she had to adapt to new circumstances.

She finished her eggs and gave it another thought. It was Thursday morning. She was about to leave to her parents’ the next afternoon and stay at their house for as long as possible. Was it reasonable to go grocery shopping now? Or better fall back into the sinful habit of takeaways?

The very moment she was tossing between those two options, her phone vibrated shortly.

Anna took a deep breath and checked her messages. It was Ally. Anna felt her heart slowing down. Of course it was just Allie and not him.

“Jo’s cooking lasagna tonight, so I thought about grabbing some Thai food. What do u say? Noodles and wine?”

Anna couldn’t help smirking to that. Jo had an Italian Grandma, who she’d never seen in her life. Grandma Falsetti died pretty young, couple years before Jo’s Mom and Dad even met. Nevertheless Jo felt some deep connection to her late Grandma Falsetti. This connection came out in a peculiar idea that Jo had a secret talent to cook true Italian lasagna. How and when that idea settled in Jo’s eccentric mind girls had no idea. But every now and then Jo tried to prove her secret and probably yet sleeping cooking talent. She bought everything the little Italian grocery shop nearby could offer and started another crusade towards her dream dish. It would have been probably an easier task if she’d ever looked up any lasagna recipes. But Jo didn’t believe in online cookbooks and instead had an absolute faith in her spiritual connection to Grandma Falsetti. Allie and Anna never questioned that connection. They learned after the first lasagna dinner that Jo was her own fiercest critic, and every result of her desperate attempts to wake up her Italian roots was eventually thrown away. And every lasagna dinner was easily turned into a pizza dinner. Or Chinese dinner. Today it was Thai. Anna particularly adored lasagna dinners for their optimistic spirit. Jo, being a crazy passionate optimist, was never taken down by her failures in the kitchen and kept repeating that every experience was an experience. At least now she knew several wrong ways to cook lasagna, which only brought her closer to the right one.

Today’s invitation, being welcoming and well-timed on its own, also solved her grocery shopping dilemma.

Annabelle typed back “Sure! Will be there by 8. Wine’s on me” and wanted to switch off the phone but halted, her gaze settled at the contact name of the next dialogue. Her heartbeat picked up its pace again. She opened the tab, scrolled up to the very beginning and started rereading their messages. As if she hadn’t already learned them by heart.

She remember last night’s hesitation and sudden urge to text him. Still hadn’t quite understood what made her do it. And of course the first ever idea of what to type was exactly as silly as all her words said or sent to him so far.

23.46 “What would’ve happened if I’d taken a coffee?”

Even several hours later she still blushed rereading that. Why couldn’t she have started with simple “Hi” or “It’s Anna, sorry to bother”? Why her subconscious was making her look ridiculous?

23.47 “There would’ve been one coffee less on the table in the on-call room”

The speed and simplicity of his answer was calming and exciting at the same time. He stated that just like they were continuing a conversation they’d paused a minute ago and not fifteen hours. It made her almost dizzy. To the point of completely losing her mind judging by her next questions.

23.48 “That easy?”

23.49 “That easy”

23.49 “And nothing more?”

23.50 “And nothing more”

Anna dropped her phone on the table and hid her face in her hands, groaning quietly. Such a dumbass…

She recalled staring at his short unimaginative responses last night for couple minutes. After which she’d remembered about good manners.

23.54 “Sorry for the late night messages”

“Especially so stupid ones,” she thought now.

23.55 “I’ve at least 8 more hours on a shift so not so late night for me”

23.55 “Oh, ok”

The sounds, that were Anna’s reaction to that fine piece of epistolary genre, were hardly human.

23.56 “Working tmrrw too?”

23.57 “No, days off till Sat. Y?”

Anna’s hands started shaking again, almost like last night when she was typing her next message, praying at the same time for an alien invasion which would instantly block all the mobile connection and stop her from finishing her question. Whatever impediment this insane world could offer would actually do, she’d thought, cause she wasn’t able to stop her fingers from typing and feared to death to actually ask him what she was about to ask.

23.59 “Could we maybe meet up? For a coffee or sth? I really need to talk to you”

She still couldn’t believe she wrote about coffee. But as usual realisation came after she pressed send. She’d sat on her bed after that biting her fingers nervously and looking at three little dots showing on his side of the screen.

00.00 “Sure. Fri noon ok?”

Annabelle hadn’t noticed she’d hold her breath till she got that text. She’d gasped for air and almost jumped on her bed.

00.01 “Yeah, totaly”

00.02 “Let’s hold on to that, but i’ll confirm tomorrow evening in case they call me in overnight”

00.02 “Yeah, cool”

00.03 “Goodnight then”

Anna exhaled loudly rereading that last message from him for a thousandth time at least.

Why that simple sign of politeness was raising such sensation in her? Why did she see something more than just politeness behind those two words? And why everything about that man was so damn intense?

***

“It’s all about the right mood,” Jo repeated for the third time, putting her future masterpiece in the oven.

“Whose mood exactly?” mocked her Allie. Jo continued staring into the oven through the thick glass and didn't pay much attention to her friend’s words.

“Yeah, Jo, whose mood?” joined Anna, “A cook’s?”

“Or maybe guest’s?”

“No, no, no, I know! It’s all about the lasagna’s mood!” Anna started giggling, mostly because of her fair share of wine, consumed while Jo was cooking.

Jo smirked, standing up. “You are absolute bitches today, ladies! Congratulations!”

Anna and Allie raised glasses in a joky toast from the opposite side of a kitchen island.

“So, how are your parents?” Allie asked in much more serious tone.

Anna put her glass down and shrugged silently. Jo sent Allie disapproval look.

“You’ve seen my Mom in the hospital. She tries to act normal. But of course it’s hard. It’s hard for everyone,” finally said Anna. “I don’t even know what is worse, the way she acts now, or if she spent all her time alone and crying and mourning.”

“Of course second option is worse, darling,” said Jo softly.

“But shouldn’t you like… go through it. You know, anger, depression, all that stuff. I feel like she’s stuck in her denial phase. What if she’s actually harming herself that way?”

Jo was obviously lost for words. Allie sighed deeply and noted, “Everybody copes their own way. Knowing Jennifer, it’s quite understandable that she doesn’t want other people to see her grief. She’s exactly that type of woman who’d cry for three days and then stand up and go on with her life. She was never the one to dwell.”

Anna nodded, took another sip of her wine. “I get it. And you right. It’s just. I don’t know, I feel like I miss on something. The way they react… We did have time to prepare to any outcome, knowing about Grayson’s heart condition for some time. But… I sometimes feel like they overcame it in like couple hours. I know they actually didn’t, they do grieve. But the fact that they don’t really show it leaves me confused. Because I don’t understand anything. What should I do? Should I cry? Should I be angry? Should I let go and act it like there were no baby at all? I cried with my Mom the very first day, I had my gush of anger. But now…” she shook her head. “I’m literally at a loss. And my emotions are at a verge. One moment I’m completely alright, the next I’m sobbing in the middle of a parking lot. I mean, what is wrong with me?”

“Hey, nothing is wrong with you,” reassured her Jo, while Allie simply hugged Anna and stayed like that. “There is no instruction that will tell you how you should feel. Because there’s no should, Belle. You just feel, the way you do. And if it means crying in the middle of the fucking parking lot, then fine!”

Anna snorted to that, feeling tears in her eyes. “I just feel like a freak.”

“You’re not. You are hurting. It’ll take time. Just give it some time,” almost whispered Allie.

“Guess, you’re right.”

Anna took another sip of her wine and went faster, like she just remembered it. “About Saturday, there’ll be no funeral. Mom wanted cremation. So it’ll be just a little memorial-ish stuff at our house, nothing official at all. Only family and closest friends. Will you come anyway?’

“Of course, darling,” confirmed Allie. “Noon?”

“Yeah.”

They kept silence for some time, drinking and not looking at each other. Then Jo, visibly hesitating, decided to ask. “Belle, is Bryan going to come?”

Allie rolled her eyes to that question and Anna snorted.

“Yes, Jo, I’m sorry to upset you, but Bryan is going to be there. We messaged yesterday and he confirmed, that he won’t leave for school till Monday.”

“Messaged?” Jo asked in slight confusion. “You didn't talk to him?”

Anna shrugged nonchalantly, than added. “Wasn't feeling like talking.” And set her gaze at the wine glass she was twisting in her fingers.

Jo looked at Allie, who shook her head asking Jo to drop the topic. Jo widened her eyes in fake innocence when Anna sighed and gave in. “Say it,” she stated firmly.

“What?” Jo decided to continue acting innocent.

“Whatever you wanted to say. Just say it.”

“I just-” Jo hesitated for a moment, which made Anna look up at her friend in mild surprise. If there was one thing Jo could never be accused of it was hesitation. “Don't you think it's rather odd, Belle? He’s your boyfriend of more than three years and you wasn't feeling like talking to him in the probably darkest moment of you life.”

Anna frowned and looked at Allie. “Do you think it's odd too?”

Allie shook her head finishing her wine. “Can you please keep me out of this conversation?” she said, when realised that her friends’ gazes didn't move from her.

“No?” Anna raised her eyebrows.

Allie rolled her eyes at Jo and looked at her empty glass. “Well, I guess, it is a little odd. I guess if I was in the relationship I would want the guy to take care of me in such moment,” she shrugged. “But everybody's different. And if you feel like being alone, it seems totally fine to me,” she concluded, stressing her last words and looking at Jo again.

“Well, I'm sorry for being so hard-heartedly honest, but it doesn't really seems fine to me,” stated Jo.

A loud sound struck in the settled silence. Anna looked back at the couch where she left her phone. “To tell the truth, Jo, Bryan is definitely the last of my problems right now.”

She stood up and stepped to the couch to check the message. She was intended to keep her face emotionless not to give much away (mostly because there was literally nothing to give away), but she couldn't help her smile when she saw the contact name.

“Still up for that coffee?”

Her fingers started typing before she even thought about her reply. She waited a moment till he sent her an address of a little coffee shop next to the NY public library, switched her screen off, went back to the kitchen island and realised that girls’ gazes were on her all that time.

“What?” she played dumb under Jo’s questioning look.

“Who was that?” Jo obviously had a hard time trying to suppress her curiosity. Anna looked at her, then at Allie, who as usual wasn't giving much away, but was definitely interested too.

“That was…” Anna stumbled. How would she explain all of it?

“Don't say that was nobody!” exclaimed Jo. “I swear, Belle, if you say it was nobody, I'll steal you phone and look.”

Anna was taken aback. “Hey, chill, would you? Why does it even matter?”

“Because you smiled,” quietly said Allie and Anna felt almost betrayed.

“And not just smiled! You smiled your special little smile,” continued Jo as she started to slightly bounce on her tiptoes impatiently.

“Special smile? I don't have any special smiles, what are you even talking about?”

“You do,” noted Allie matter of factly.

“See? Thank you, Allie! Now spill the beans!”

“There's nothing to spill. It was Dr. Hood.” She took a bottle and poured herself more wine, but mostly just to occupy herself with something cause she suddenly felt awkward.

“Dr. Hood?” Jo repeated in disbelief and Allie almost choked on her wine. “Is it that hot doctor we saw staring at you at the hospital?”

“Well, yes,” Anna confirmed, still not risking to look at her friends.

Jo shrieked and spinned throwing her arms up in the air. “I knew it!” she yelled looking at Anna with excitement. “I knew there was something between the two of you!”

“There’s literally nothing between us, I swear,” Anna said holding her hands up in calming gesture.

“Wait, first things first! How did it even happen that you text?” bursted Allie being as excited as Jo, to Anna’s utter bewilderment.

“Well, he gave us his card, you know, just in case, when Mom only got to the hospital,” Anna explained.

Jo gave a whistle. “So it was you who texted first? I can say that I've never been so proud of you, my little Belle!”

Anna sighed and hid her head in her hands. “It’s absolutely not like that, Jo!” she groaned. “Can you not, please?”

“Then just tell us!” begged Jo.

“I shouted at him, okay?” Anna confessed, still hiding her face. Then she took a deep breath, took her hand off of her face and met two shocked stares. “The gush of anger I had,” she started explaining. “It was the very night Grayson died. I'd been hiding in the hospital corridors for some time, needed some privacy to bail my eyes out, you know. And then I decided to come back to my Mom's room and I saw him in a hall. And… it was really awful. I blamed him for everything, said he hadn't saved my brother, that it was his fault. Then started crying again. An absolute mess.”

Anna shook her head on the unwanted memory.

“What did he do?” Allie asked softly.

“Nothing much. He held me the whole time I was crying, ‘s all.”

The room was silent for some time.

“So why did you text him?” finally asked Jo.

Anna looked up at her. “I asked him to meet me. I need to apologize properly for what a horrible person I was to him.”

“Anna,” Allie gasped putting her hand on Anna’s back and stroking her soothingly. “You aren't a horrible person. You were devastated by your loss. What you did is more than understandable.”

Anna chuckled bitterly. “It wasn't actually the only shit thing I did.”

“What?”

“The day you came to visit my Mom, I was sitting on the bench in front of the hospital that morning. I was sitting there every morning before entering, actually. Needed a moment to myself, you know. So he sat next to me and offered coffee he’d bought for me. And I just shoved him off like a total bitch. And he just tried to be friendly.”

“Belle, I'm sure he understands,” tried to reassure her Jo.

“Of course, he does,” Annabelle agreed. “But that's not the point at all. The way I acted, that's not me. I'm not that person and I need him to know it. I can't explain, but I just can't leave it like that. I owe him an apology no matter what reasons I had.”

“When are you meeting?” Jo asked a moment later.

“Tomorrow noon,” she answered as Jo’s oven alarm went off.

Jo bounced again in anticipation and picked potholders. “Finally!” she breathed out, opening the oven.

They understood something was wrong as soon as Jo started cutting it in portions. The dish was basically breaking under her knife with loud crunching. Allie and Anna looked at each other too scared to say a word. Jo groaned, mumbled something about “the fucking fuck” and threw another result of her cooking into her trash bin. Then she looked up at girls and asked, looking tired and pissed, “So, what did you bring today?”

“Thai,” confessed Allie with shy smile. “But we need to heat it up.”

“Well, you know how to use my microwave,” Jo shrugged waving to Anna. “Belle, give me that damn bottle, will you? I need to drink up that disaster.”

Annabelle giggled, handing Jo wine and smiling at the visibly lightening mood. She couldn't help but thought that no matter what was happening in her life, lasagna dinners would always be there to save her from all the troubles. And at that moment she couldn't be more grateful for that.

***

“Are you sure you wanna go today?” her dad asked for at least fourth time. “Traffic’s gonna be awful.”

Anna smiled. “Dad, it's New York, traffic’s gonna be awful no matter when I decide to come.”

He chuckled lightly. “Okay, sweetheart. You gonna stay for the whole weekend?”

“No, actually I was about to stay till Tuesday. I've got first class in the afternoon so I could leave in the morning.”

“You sure?”

“Well, yeah. As long as you okay with me bothering you for so long,” she joked.

“Don't be silly.” Annabelle could see her Dad’s frown right now and smiled wider. “I just thought as it’s your last weekend before school starts you’d want…”

Anna didn't let him finish. “There’s no other place I’d rather be right now, Dad.”

“Sure thing, Anna.”

“I'll text you when I set off, ‘kay? Don't start dinner without me!”

“Can't promise you anything, sweetheart. Your Mom’s cooking curry tonight so…”

“I won't speak to you ever again if you start without me!” she threatened, giggling.

“I'm just saying I wouldn't waste much time for packing if I were you,” Mark teased again.

“I’m leaving right now,” Anna heard her father chuckle again and the sound made her heart shrink. Or maybe it was the sight of a tall man in black shirt and black jeans waiting for her outside of a quite busy coffee shop. Anna felt her hands starting to shake. “Dad, I have to go, but I'll text you later.”

“Okay, darling. I love you.”

“Love you too. See you tonight,” Anna mumbled and finished her call.

That very moment he saw her and put his phone he was scrolling through while waiting in the pocket of his jeans.

Anna felt her heart setting off in a running pace. Say Hi or Hello? Smile or better not? What was more appropriate in conversation with a man she’d accused of the most horrible things?

“I thought of buying us coffee, but realised you’ve never actually told me,” he said with a ghost of a smile on his lips, saving her from struggling with her first words.

“Never told you what?” Anna felt lost at this.

“What coffee you prefer,” he explained and let smile touch his face finally.

Anna widened her eyes half because of the fact that she didn't understand that herself, half because he wanted to buy her coffee even after she shoved him off the last time he did. “Er, cappuccino would be fine, but you don't have to buy me coffee,” she shook her head frowning a little.

He shrugged and stepped into the coffee shop without sparing her another word. Anna followed him just to see the barista noticing him and raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“I was right,” told him Dr. Hood leaving Anna even more at a loss.

The barista guy smirked and handed him two coffee cups, giving Anna an examining look.

Dr. Hood turned back to Anna and gestured her to go back to the street.

“There are tables in the park across the street,” he showed her. “We can sit there and talk. And here's your cappuccino,” he handed her a cup and stepped towards the said park.

“So you did buy me coffee,” she concluded looking at his back and following him suit.

He shrugged and Anna thought she heard him snort. “It was a lucky shot. You just seemed like a cappuccino type,” he said and looked at her as they entered the park.

“A cappuccino type,” Anna murmured to herself having close to no clue what he was actually talking about. What was a cappuccino type after all?

“Well thanks for the coffee,” she said as they settled at a table next to a big tree and as far away from the walking paths as possible. She noted his lips twitch a little. “And thank you for not commenting on it further,” she sighed, looking away from him.

“Any time,” he answered, took a sip of his coffee and asked, “How have you been?”

Anna shrugged. What could she answer to that? Was she alright? She wasn’t even sure what alright was anymore. She looked back at him, taking slightly aback by the unexpected seriousness in his eyes. She shrugged again and saw his nod of understanding. He wasn’t looking at her with sympathy or pity, wasn’t judgemental or embarrassed by the pain behind that shrug. He just understood. And surprisingly it was exactly what she needed right now.

“So why did you wanna see me?” he asked after another minute of sitting there in silence.

Anna felt tears coming up to her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to cry in front of him, not again. She gathered all the courage she had left in her and breathed out, “Dr. Hood, I-”

“It’s Calum,” he interrupted her with a shy smile.

Anna looked up at him again. “Um, what?”

“My name is Calum,” he repeated, his smile widening. “We’re no longer in doctor-patient relationship. Truth to be told we’ve never actually were. But anyway, call me Calum, please. Dr. Hood still has me a little uncomfortable,” he admitted.

“Oh, okay,” Annabelle mumbled, cursing herself again for the stupid childish answers. “Well, Calum, I just wanted to apologize,” she stated, looking at her hands, started picking on her nail polish out of nervousness. “For the night it all happened and for the Wednesday morning too. I had no right to blame you for what happened, I know you’ve done everything that was possible. And I’m sorry I was a total bitch to you when you just tried to be friendly. And-”

“Hey, don’t,” he stopped her again and suddenly Anna felt his right hand gripping on hers. His hand was hot and soft and so big, with three letters tattooed between his thumb and index finger. He waited till she looked back at him and said softly, “You don’t have to apologize. I totally understand.”

Anna shook her head and leaned back on her chair, her hands are still in his grip. She noticed with her side sight a little girl in pretty pink dress running excitedly around a woman several meters behind Calum and felt tears coming up again. “It doesn’t matter if I had a reason or not. I’m thankful you understand, but I still had no right to act like I did towards you. And I’m so sorry that I did. And I really hope you could forgive me, cause honestly words cannot even start to explain how grateful I am for everything you did.”

Calum smiled again and started with, “Anna, you-” but this time he was interrupted.

Two tiny hands gripped on his left arm and a chubby cheek pressed to his tattooed biceps. Calum turned his look to the little intruder. Annabelle freed her hands from his grip and looked at a little girl in confusion. Pretty pink dress with a flowery print told her it was the same girl she noticed couple minutes ago. The girl was about three, had pretty curls the color of milk chocolate and big blue eyes, which were fixed on Calum’s still slightly surprised face.

“And who is that here?” he chuckled, big smile on his face.

“It’s just me, doctah Cawum,” she replied and giggled, not looking anywhere but at him. “I made a wish I meet you today,” she revealed shyly and giggled again.

“Seems like a real magic to me,” Calum chuckled again, standing up from his chair and bending down to the girl. “Now, I guess I deserve my hug.”

The girl laughed happily, as he lifted her up and spinned couple of times, squeezing her in his massive arms. They stopped and the girl pulled back a little, settling comfortable on his hip. That was exactly when a woman the girl was with came up to them, she looked a little embarrassed and angry.

“Aubrie, how many times do I need to tell you not to run away from me?” she nagged little girl in a rather soft voice.

“But I saw doctah Cawum!” Aubrie stated, like it was totally indulging. The woman snorted, looking at the man holding her little daughter. “Of course you did,” she sighed. “Hello, Calum! And I’m sorry we interrupted you,” she looked apologetically at Anna.

Calum hugged her with his free arm with no hesitation. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m always glad to see you. This is Anna, by the way,” he looked back at Annabelle. Anna smiled at the woman. “And these are Laura and my favourite patient Princess Aubrie,” he introduced them, bouncing Aubrie on his hip.

“I’m not a patient, I’m your friend!” exclaimed Aubrie and hid her face in his neck.

“Oh, I’m so silly! I’m sorry, princess, of course you’re my friend!” he agreed easily and moved his gaze to Laura. “You were at the hospital? How is our little girl?”

“Yeah, we were at the usual checking. Dr. Irwin said she’s absolutely okay. Even approved on dancing classes,” she smiled, stroking Aubries curls.

“Will you come to my concert when I be dancin’ pwincess?” Aubrie asked, pulling away and looking at Calum with eyes full of adoration.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he promised, hugging her again.

“Okay, angel, we have to go,” her mother sighed. “Hug doctor Calum goodbye and let’s go.”

“No, Mama,” whined Aubrie and clung on Calum’s neck with both hands, making him laugh quietly.

“Remember you wanted to buy those beautiful cups for your garden party? If we go now we’ll probably have enough time to do it today,” traded Laura with a mischievous grin.

Her trick obviously worked, as Aubrie let go off Calum’s neck with a sad expression on her face.

“Will you come to my garden party?” she asked him, before letting him put her down.

“Well, if your Mom and Dad are okay with that,” he hold back for a moment.

“Come on, Calum, you know, you are always a welcome guest in our house,” smiled Laura at him.

“I will most definitely come,” Calum promised to the little girl in his arms. “When is it going to be?”

“Next Saturday, at around three,” said Laura, as Aubrie struggled with answering, probably not very good with days and time yet.

“Then I’ll see you there, right, princess?” Calum asked Aubrie, and she nodded excitedly, glowing with happiness.

He hugged Aubrie one more time, they said their goodbyes with Laura, who shared one more smile with Anna, and with that they left.

Calum stood there for a moment more, looking after them, and then sat back down on his chair, shy smile still on his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled, looking at Anna.

“That’s okay,” she smiled back, even though her heart was aching from the sight of a happy little kid. “Did you treat her?”

Callum hummed admittedly.

“Tell me about it,” Anna asked.

Calum frowned, her request took him by surprise.

“Well, Aubrie was one of my first patients after I started operating after couple of years of residency. She was born premature and had a heart condition.”

“Like my brother?”

“Not exactly,” he shook his head, his stare not leaving Anna’s face for a moment. “There was a little problem with her cardiac valve, it’s rather easier than what your brother had. She was operated on the third day after her birth and spent almost four weeks after that in an NICU. She needs regular check ups now. Although her chances of living a healthy life without any other operations are very high.”

“You aren’t the one who checks up on her?” Anna asked, slightly confused.

“No, my job is finished after the first month of their life,” Calum explained. “Then we pass our little patients on to pediatrics. But I do like to follow their progress,” he finished quietly.

Anna nodded, not really knowing what to say to that.

“Why’d you ask?”

She looked straight at Calum and felt a lonely tear fall down her cheek.

“I don’t really know,” she said, wiping a tear with her hand and smiling apologetically. “Just needed some good story, I guess.”

“Hey,” Calum stretched his arm forward and grabbed her hand again, making her shake a little. “There’ll be plenty of them in your life. Just give them some time.”

She smiled back at him and sniffed. She squeezed his hand in silent thank you and offered, “Do you, maybe, wanna walk a little? Of course, if you’re not-”

“I’m not,” he smirked, standing and pulling her up by her hand, “whatever you wanted to say next.”

Anna let him snake his arm around her shoulders and lead up the street. She was dazed by his easiness and by the way her heart felt lighter. She couldn’t even try to explain all the things she felt, too overwhelmed by his presence. But she was absolutely positive about one thing. She wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with his arm around her shoulders.

Taglist: @dancingonanemptywallet @5saucewho

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today-we-will-survive · 6 years

Text

03. Autumn Leaves

A story based on the fictional HYYH world about six boys with unimaginable problems and their friend that can’t do anything to help.

Member: Jimin

Genre: Angst

Warning: warnings are posted in my masterlist

Word Count: 4.2K

Parts can be found on my Masterlist under “The Most Beautiful Moment In Life”

A/N: New parts every Tuesday and Friday

Apart, we were fragmented but together, we were unbreakable. And that was all we needed. Until it wasn’t.

November.

School had always been hard for Park Jimin. Luckily, the fact that Jungkook and Taehyung were almost constantly by his side made it bearable. They were his best friends and protectors against those that liked to pick on him because of how small he was. It wasn’t his fault that when the other boys hit puberty, they sprung up like weeds while he stayed closer to the ground. Though the taunting, the name calling, the abuse, made it feel to him like it was his fault. Like he should have tried harder, thought bigger, been stronger.

It’s hard to feel good enough when the world tells you that you never will be. Even the medication didn’t help much. The constant taunting throughout the years had worn him down. Chipped away at his meager self-confidence until there was nothing left to help but a razor blade and a bottle of sleeping pills. That didn’t work. And after he’d gotten out of the hospital and gone through treatment and promised his parents he’d continue going to therapy and taking his anti-depressants, he turned to the one thing he wasn’t too weak to control. Food. Everyone else already thought he was small. Maybe if he made himself small enough, he could just disappear entirely. If nothing else, the smaller the target, the harder it is to hit.

Jungkook and Taehyung were like his fortress walls. Taehyung already dealt with his alcoholic father so fighting off a few bullies at school was nothing to him, and the stress of being in foster care had driven Jungkook to the school’s weight room and onto the field so just his appearance was intimidating enough to keep others away. There were still the whispers though. They’d seep into Jimin’s head, constantly reminding him that if anyone ever found the chink in his armor, he was done for. Living in constant fear was exhausting.

Jimin’s parents had gone to the principal about it but he said nothing could be done if it wasn’t happening on school grounds. And of course, bullies are smart. They’d taunt him in the halls and then wait in the shadows to pounce. They’d only gotten to him once before, a day that Taehyung was in the hospital with a broken arm and Jungkook had to stay after for detention, and after that, his parents started picking him up. They’d talked of homeschooling him but couldn’t make it work. But Jimin assured them, as long as he had Taehyung and Jungkook, he’d be okay.

And so the three of them were a unit. You rarely saw one without the other two. They’d worked it out with the principal for at least one of them to be in every class with him. It had been that way since middle school. Now here they were their senior year. It was nearing the end of November now with no incidences so far. Only seven more months to graduation. Jimin could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Have you talked to the guidance counselor about your dad?” Jimin asked Taehyung as they sat together in the cafeteria. The taller boy had come to school that morning sporting a new blackening bruise on his cheekbone.

Taehyung shook his head and stuffed a piece of broccoli into his mouth. “You saw what the principal did about your situation. You think a teacher is going to be able to do anything about mine?”

“I could always come home with you one day,” Jungkook said as he sat down in front of his tray. “The two of us could give him a taste of his own medicine.”

“No, it’s okay,” Taehyung uttered. “It’s better not to provoke him. He doesn’t get like this very often. It’ll be fine.”

Jimin and Jungkook exchanged knowing glances. “Not very often” had turned into Taehyung sporting a new cut or bruise every week. It was getting worse and they all knew it.

“Do you want to stay at my house tonight,” Jimin asked.

Taehyung shook his head and pushed a pea around his tray with the tines of his fork. “No, Mina is going to be home tonight and it’s best if I’m there too. You know, to…”

“Right,” Jungkook cut him off.

Taehyung’s younger sister spent most nights at her friends’ houses, luckily she was popular and had a lot of friends to be able to do this with. But on those nights where she was home, Taehyung always made sure to be there, just in case their dad decided to drink. Jimin remembered Taehyung staying at his house one night back in middle school and the next day at school seeing Mina with a black eye. His friend swore to never leave her home alone again after that and he’d kept that promise.

“Better eat your vegetables so you can grow big and strong.” Jimin looked up to see Jiho and a few of his friends sitting at the table across the aisle. The guy hadn’t gone one day without tormenting him since sixth grade.

“I don’t think midgets can grow big and strong,” his friend, Kijung, retorted from beside him.

The rest of the table laughed while Jiho stared directly into Jimin’s eyes, a vicious smirk on his lips.

Jimin quickly looked away again, a shudder running down his spine. “Did either of you finish your calculus homework from last night?” he asked as he grabbed his backpack off the bench next to him and began digging into it.

Jungkook and Taehyung ripped their eyes away from the other table and locked on each other, forks hovering just outside their mouths. Of course they didn’t do it. With a roll of his own eyes, Jimin pulled out his text book and opened it to the assigned pages. He’d been using his homework as a bookmark and now laid it on the table for the two to see. He ran a hand through his newly dyed orange hair as Jungkook and Taehyung fumbled with their own backpacks and searched for their notebooks so they could copy down his work.

“Seriously, guys,” he said. “What would you do without me?”

“Probably fail math,” Jungkook uttered and pulled the smaller boy’s homework closer to him so he could hastily scribble down the answers.

“I’ve got the brains, you got the brawn.”

“What do I get?” Taehyung asked looking up with his mouth full of rice.

Jimin looked down at his barely touched tray of food, over to Jungkook’s somewhat normal sized lunch and then to Taehyung’s tray piled high with everything on the line. He smiled fondly. “The appetite,” he finally said before picking up a piece of melon and nibbling off a corner.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay over tonight?” Jungkook asked Taehyung as the three of them made their way out of the school.

Taehyung shook his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

“Can’t. I used up my minutes for this month and Fake Dad refuses to buy me more.” He always referred to his foster family as his fake family. Fake Mom, Fake Dad, Fake Brother 1, Fake Brother 2… “I’m hanging out with Yoongi-hyung though after this so just call him if you need to reach me.” Then he brought up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “Jimin-ah, isn’t your mom picking you up today?” Jungkook asked, his eyes scanning the row of cars that were idling on the curb.

Jimin’s own head moved along before his gaze settled on a dull, yellow hatchback. “No, it’s Thursday,” he said and lifted an arm to wave at the driver. “Hobi-hyung and I have group therapy.”

An arm stuck up from the opposite side, hanging out the driver’s side window and Jimin hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he said to his friends before jogging over to Hoseok’s car and slipping into the passenger seat. Then with a horrible grinding sound of metal on metal and a shudder, the car pulled away from the curb.

“How’s it going, hyung?” Jimin asked as he positioned his backpack on the floor between his feet.

“Just fine, kid,” Hoseok replied gripping the wheel with white knuckles.

It had been a few months now since Beach Day when the other six had witnessed him dump his pills into the bonfire, but even now he looked like he was feeling the lingering effects of withdrawal. Dark circles stained the skin under his eyes and his complexion looked pallid. Not at all the usual golden color. The boy who was normally a perfect depiction of sunshine, had become overcast. He looked exhausted.

“Are you sleeping at night?” Jimin asked.

Hoseok glanced at himself in his rearview mirror and immediately straightened up. As if he could hide what Jimin had already picked up on. “A bit,” he said.

“How much?”

“Enough.”

Obviously the boy didn’t want to talk about it. Jimin had told him he’d be there to help in any way that he could but how could he if Hoseok refused to let him?

The two had been friends for five years but really bonded in the hospital while Jimin was recovering from his suicide attempt and Hoseok was going through his latest bout of rehab. They’d connected immediately, both lost souls having been seeking comfort in the wrong things. Going to group therapy together and encouraging each other in their battles with their demons had brought them closer together. And then when they both had finished inpatient treatment, they stayed close. Sure, Jimin had Jungkook and Taehyung but he’d always have a special connection with Hoseok. He was the older brother Jimin had always needed. It was hard seeing his hyung struggling so much. He hated when any of his friends were hurting. None of them deserved it.

With his lip caught between his teeth, he pulled his phone out of the side pocket of his backpack, opening a text conversation with Yoongi.

Party at ur place tmrrw? Hobi needs us

Yoongi: Sounds good. Spread the word

thnks hyung

Yoongi: Np

After group therapy, Hoseok brought Jimin back to his house, pulling up to the curb and putting it in park. The two sat in silence for several seconds as the engine idled, Jimin chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Is it true, hyung?” he finally asked quietly. “Is the pain really back?”

Hoseok drummed this thumbs against the steering wheel, his eyes glued to the dash. His pale lips pressed into a thin line and he gave a sharp nod. He looked ragged. More so than Jimin had seen him in a long time. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t noticed the stress lines creasing his young face. Or the way his mouth turned down. Or how his shoulders slumped forward as if his struggles were literally crushing him under their weight. Jimin felt the guilt like a fist grab his stomach and twist hard.

When they’d first met, Hoseok was an incredible dancer. The guys had all gone to a couple of his shows and even as a high schooler, his moves had been impressive. Jimin always loved the idea of dancing but felt it would just be another thing to add to the long list of things he was bullied for. The last thing Jiho needed was more material.

And then, one night during rehearsal, Hoseok had tripped backward off the stage, falling several feet to the auditorium floor and landing on his neck. He’d suffered a pretty bad spinal injury and the doctors weren’t even sure if he’d ever be able to walk again. Luckily, he regained his ability over the course of a few weeks, but the pain lingered in his neck and spine. He began to rely on pills to help but he kept taking them even after the pain finally subsided. The guys had gotten used to him being high. In fact, if he wasn’t, he wasn’t Hoseok. He was a zombie, a shell, lifeless and hollow. But with the pills, he was full of energy, down for anything. Fun.

After throwing the pills in the fire during Beach Day, he’d gone through the initial withdrawal period. Every time Jimin saw him, he looked like death, but as time went on, he began to resemble the Hoseok they knew before all of this. The one that could be happy and hyper without the high. But maybe it had been an act. An exhausting act, but one nonetheless. And now the pain was back.

“You’re not going to go back to the pills again, are you, hyung?”

“Would you be disappointed in me?” Hoseok asked, finally looking over at him. The sadness in his eyes said it all. He’d been fighting hard, suffering in silence for several months and now he looked ready to give it all up.

Jimin lifted his hand and put it over the older boy’s where they rested on the steering wheel. His fists were clenched so tight, they felt like steel under Jimin’s own soft palm.

“I would never be disappointed in you, hyung,” he replied, keeping his voice steady and strong so Hoseok knew he meant every word. “You could completely relapse and I’d never be disappointed in you. Recovery is hard. Addiction is hard. We have bad days and we have worse days.”

“Some days are unbearable,” Hoseok whispered. “I know our therapist says to take it a day at a time but—”

“Forget what the therapist said,” Jimin interrupted. “If taking it a day at a time is too much, then take it an hour at a time. Or a minute or a second. As long as you make an effort, you’re winning, hyung. And we’re all rooting for you. I’m rooting for you.”

Hoseok’s grip on the steering wheel loosened under Jimin’s hand and the boy looked at him. A spark flashed through his tired eyes. Something like determination. A newfound desire to keep going. “Thanks, Jimin,” he uttered and gave him a weak smile before looking away and sniffing hard.

Jimin gave the older boy’s hands a quick squeeze before pulling his own back and snatching his phone up out of his lap. His fingers danced across the screen as he typed.

party tonite?

…

JK: alredy here

T: Mina’s gone. i’m down

NJ: see u then

Y: 👍

J: Leaving now.

Hoseok glanced down at his phone where it rested in the cupholder, the screen lit up with the group message. Jimin’s breath hitched when he saw the corners of the boy’s mouth twitch upward then he watched as Hoseok shifted the car back out of park and glanced over his shoulder to check for other cars.

“Yoongi’s?” he asked.

With a smile, Jimin unlocked his phone again so he could let his mom know he would be home later. She sent back a thumbs up and a heart as they turned at the end of the street and headed toward Yoongi’s place.

The second oldest of the group lived in a cluster of train cars in a yard near the river. He’d made a sort of deal with the owner a while back that he’d help maintain the place in exchange for somewhere to live. As long as he didn’t bring shady people around or do anything illegal, the owner didn’t bother him.

This was where the seven friends congregated. It was their home away from home—for some even more home than their own. A place any of the six could go and they would never be turned away.

The night descended into chaos much like it regularly did. It always started out tame enough. A few of the guys—usually the youngest three—would crowd around the small tv that sat on Yoongi’s coffee table, playing old Atari games, while a few of the others would just talk in the kitchen area, hunched over a pizza box. The older four being of legal drinking (and purchasing) age each usually supplied some type of alcohol and would experiment with mixing them. It would pretty much go downhill from there.

This night was no different. At one point, Jimin was jumping up and down on the couch with Taehyung, the two screaming the lyrics to the techno-y song filling the room when he was smashed in the chest with a pillow. Feathers exploded into the air and he sprawled off the couch and onto the plywood floor, his fuzzy head swimming even faster as he looked around dazedly for the source of the assault. At last, his eyes focused on Hoseok’s beaming face and he narrowed his own at him.

“It’s on, hyung,” he growled before grabbing a cushion off the couch and swinging it up hard.

Suddenly, the rest of the boys joined, grabbing whatever stuffed object they could find and before long, the place looked like a plushie and feather factory had exploded. Cotton and feathers covered every surface and the boys were rolling in fits of howling laughter. Jimin felt higher than a kite even as he lay among the feathers and fluff, Hoseok laying on his arm.

But once the laughter died down, a heavy silence fell over the place and within minutes, most of the guys were passed out drunk where they’d landed. Jimin, however, pulled his arm out from under Hoseok and sat up on his haunches. He swayed with sleep, fighting it hard. He needed to go home. The other boys were in situations where their absence probably wouldn’t even be noticed. Even Hoseok’s mom—out on dates most nights ever since her divorce from his father—probably wasn’t wondering where he was. But Jimin’s parents were different. With his past and his problems and the bullying, they had come to worry a lot more easily about him. They always trusted he was safe when he was with the guys but if they expected him home, he had better come home.

He could have texted. He could have called and his mom or dad would have come and picked him up, no questions asked. But instead, he decided he’d rather not bother anyone and make the short trek home.

It was a stupid idea. It was stupid. It was stupid and he knew it in his gut but his head was too numb to realize just how stupid and so he wobbled to his feet, stood there for a second to regain his balance and then slipped out the door and into the frigid night, alone.

He would have been fine had he stayed on the sidewalk. Just kept walking and not stopping until he was safe inside his house. But as he walked past the minute mart two blocks from home, his head lifted and his eyes locked on a rack of chips through the window. He had eaten barely anything all day and they sounded so good and he found himself veering off the path and pushing his way through the glass door, inside.

He may have even been fine if he’d just grabbed the chips, paid for them and left. Even if he’d tripped on the welcome mat once he was inside, or fumbled with his wallet for a few seconds, or dropped a bill while he was trying to stuff his change back into it, he would have been okay. But the fact that he did all of those things instead of just one, meant that a car was pulling up to the curb just as he was exiting the store. Just a few seconds longer and he would have been hidden again by the shadows and the occupants of the car wouldn’t have even glanced his way.

But instead, he stumbled out the door, the driver’s eyes immediately catching the movement, and his lips twisted into a malicious grin as he set his sights on Jimin.

“Where you goin, midget?”

Jimin’s blood turned cold at the familiar voice and suddenly it was as if the alcohol vanished from his system. He turned slowly, his mind no longer sluggish, but racing. And when he saw that three others were climbing out of the car along with Jiho, his stomach twisted and he felt bile rising in his throat.

“Leave me alone, Jiho,” he cracked and swallowed hard.

The bigger boy laughed and folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t see your guard dogs anywhere,” he said and made a point to look around. “Getting a little brave, are we?”

Jimin didn’t waste another second to respond. Instead, he twisted around and took off running down the sidewalk. His heart pounded in time with his sprinting footsteps and staggered when the sound of his pursuers reached his ears. His breath became ragged in his throat and his body tingled with fear. He reached the end of the block and whipped around the corner, his shoes skidding on the sidewalk and he almost lost balance but regained it quickly, using his hands to push himself back up. There was an alley just a few yards ahead and beyond that, he could see his house. He was almost there. Relief flooded his body as his eyes locked on his front porch.

And then he felt a hand grab his hood and tug hard.

Jimin flew backward, a cry ripping from his throat as his body hit the pavement. And then more hands were on him, yanking him back up and shoving him into the dark alley.

Jimin finally found the strength to pick himself up almost twenty minutes after Jiho and his friends left him there in the alley. His whole body trembled and he couldn’t catch his breath. He didn’t know if that was from the multiple kicks to the chest or if he was in the middle of a panic attack. Either way, he fought for air for what felt like an eternity before finally being able to breathe normally. After making his way slowly back to his house, he unlocked the door and nearly fell into the entryway when he twisted the knob while still leaning against it for support.

The house was quiet and dark and surely, his parents were in bed. He didn’t want to wake them. He didn’t want to spend any time assessing the damage done by Jiho and his lackeys. He just wanted to sleep. So, he crawled in pain up the stairs on his hands and knees, down the hallway and then climbed into bed with his torn clothes and shoes—shoe? When did he lose the other one?—praying he didn’t die of internal bleeding or a concussion in the night.

When he woke the next morning, he stiffly shuffled into the bathroom to finally see how he looked. Awful. That’s how. His bottom lip was swollen on one side, a deep cut slicing through it and down into his chin. There was blood crusted below his nose and several cuts and scrapes on his face. One eye was swollen practically shut, the skin around it a sickly green color. He had a big slice on one ear and bruises resembling fingerprints on his neck. His ribs ached and it hurt to breathe and when he lifted his shirt, he found his chest and stomach stained purple and black.

There was no way he could go to school like this. So he didn’t.

He texted his mom from his room, telling her he felt extremely sick and couldn’t get out of bed. She offered to stay home from work to take care of him but he insisted she leave. And his dad had left that morning for a week-long business trip. He was safe. Surely, over the weekend, most of the bruises and cuts would heal enough that they wouldn’t be too noticeable come Monday. He’d just have to avoid his mom. He texted Taehyung and Jungkook that he’d gotten sick and would see them on Monday. He could put this whole thing behind him. Hopefully. He just needed to be more careful from now on.

Jungkook’s nostrils flared, and the line of his jaw became prominent. “I’ll kill him,” he snarled, his eyes roving over the students in the hallway as he searched for Jiho.

“Jungkook, no,” Jimin said softly and he brought a hand up to rest on the trembling boy’s arm.

Even though it was now Monday, the slice on his mouth hadn’t healed as much as he’d hoped. His eye was no longer swollen but was surrounded by a fading yellowish bruise. He looked better though. Good enough that he could hide it from his mom by wearing a hat and some makeup and keeping his head down.

At his touch, Jungkook immediately loosened, his face smoothing over again and he met Jimin’s eyes. “Why did you go back home alone after the party? Why didn’t you wake me up? Or Tae? Or any of us? We would have gone with you.”

Jimin raked his teeth over his bottom lip, wincing when he felt a sharp sting. “I know,” he said. “It was stupid. I wasn’t thinking. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Jimin,” Taehyung said quickly. “Don’t ever say something like that.”

Jimin nodded. He couldn’t believe it though. He’d done an incredibly idiotic thing going out alone like that. Of course, something bad would happen if he did something so careless. He deserved it. Of that, he was positive.

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