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kxhlzn · 5 years ago

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[iii.] the birdwatcher & his lover.

➳ synopsis: it's the summer of '89, and you discover new things about yourself— some good, and some you wish you could swallow and never see again. dealing with the newfound confusion of sexuality, you must learn the ins and outs of friendship and what it means to grow up.

➳ genre: coming-of-age drama, ANGST, fluff, slight crack.

➳ characters/pairing(s): eventual stanley uris/reader, unrequited!bev/reader, eventual benverly, eventual reddie (possibly unrequited.)

➳ wordcount: 5.9k

➳ warning(s): profanity, sexual comments, ANGST, jokes about 80s AIDS, hurt feelings, fireworks (don't try this at home, kids!)

➳ song rec: flowers in your hair by the lumineers.

➳ author's note(s): sorry i made richie cry, i hate myself too lmfao. also i love stan. that's all. that's the post. give me some recs on what you'd like to see happen to them in the future! :)

July, 1989.

the rain is constant; pattering, almost as if it expects you to open your window and let it sneak into your bedsheets, like a sneaky, horny, little teenager. except, the only teenager creeping through your window tonight is mischevious richie tozier, head full of grand ideas and schemes.

his hair is sopping when he slams on the glass, and you nearly lose ten years of your life at the scare. most of the terror racing through you isn't because you're shocked by his presence, but rather you didn't really want him to see your arms full of letters and graham crackers. he stares at you a moment, his glasses dripping with water, as a single crumb trickles onto the floor from the corner of your mouth. you consider, for a moment, that he didn't see it, but from the small smirk that appears on his lips, you know you were caught. he's crouched on the roof beside your window, tapping his knee patiently.

you don't rush to make a move, either, as you both have a staredown; richie is uncharacteristically patient, you notice, and it makes you loosen your grip on the items momentarily. but then, richie slips, and you throw them all on the bed and make a break for the window. once you've tossed it open, richie is already steady, his hands splayed out at hip height. he's preparing himself in case he slips again.

"what do you want, trashmouth?" you quip, propping the window open. you glance at the surrounding area behind him, and the sky is a deep grey. the trees are heavy with water, puddles scattered across the ground. what on earth could he need at this time?

"so, i got this cool idea," he says, gripping the sill as he slides through the crack of your window. now, he's got water dripping all over the floor, and you scowl at him as he shakes his head like a dog, flinging droplets across your bedroom. "what if we buy fireworks?"

you don't miss a beat. "what?"

"like, you know, fireworks. for fourth of july? i might know a guy."

"seriously? that'd be so cool!" you say, picturing lighting off rockets into the sky, at the quarry. richie nods in excitement, collapsing on the floor beside your bed, leaning his head against your sheets. one knee is propped up, and his arm slings comfortably on it. the water drips onto his (for once) solid color grey t-shirt and plaided black pajama pants.

"right?" richie agrees, "you can thank me later. i already told 'im to buy them. 'said he'll get back to me soon. what are those?"

you blink at him a moment, and draw your attention to where he is focused. he's eyeing the pile of letters on your bed behind him, and he starts to get grabby as he digs through them.

you jolt forward, swatting at his hands. "they're, uh... letters? to? someone?"

"your pops?"

"what? no. well, actually, most of 'em, yeah."

"he ever respond to the ones you sent last year?" richie asks softly, peering at you when you take a hesitant seat on your bed, near richie's mop of hair.

"nope," you shrug, "but it's worth a try to send some more, ya know?"

"nah. you're trying too hard, babyface. you ever think that maybe it's time to toss the towel in?" richie's hand lands on your knee, but you jerk away from him.

"toss the towel in? what the fuck, richie?" you stand, quickly, and take a few cautious steps away from him.

"no, urgh, listen. i just hate seeing you hurt yourself like this—" he stands, too, stretching his long legs in a couple strides toward you.

"what's so fucking wrong with me writing a letter to my dad?"

"it's stupid! i just think—"

"you're just pissed 'cause yours sits a room away from you, and he talks to you less than mine!" you bite, and you immediately regret it, a sour flavor sitting on your tongue.

"fuck you!" richie barks, pointing an accusatory finger at you. his voice cracks in the process. "at least my dad bothered to stay! i wasn't so fucking bitchy that he disappeared into the night, not able to deal with having me for a kid!"

you want to snap back, but you're afraid your voice will betray you, so you merely open and close your mouth like a fish. richie's shoulders are heaving, eyes blown wide enough to rival the size of his actual face, with the glasses magnifying them so much. his fists are clenching and unclenching, consistently while you stand in tense silence.

"you're right," you whisper, mostly to yourself, and you cradle your arms against your chest. you lean up against your wall and slide down until your arms hug your knees. richie gapes, mutters out a few incoherent words, and then collapses in front of you, his hands on your arms.

"no, fuck, no, i shouldn't have said that. i didn't mean it. we're both tired, and hungry, and frustrated. that was such an asshole thing for me to say," he sputters out, and he pulls your head into the crook of his neck while he coos softly.

"it's okay, i didn't mean what i said, either. i think, i just, i know you were right about the tossing in the towel thing, but i.. i just don't think i'm ready to, you know?" you mumble into his shoulder, and he nods.

"that's okay, it was just a suggestion, babyface. you want to send him a letter? fuck it, let's do it."

"okay."

you spend the next ten minutes sealing the letters up, stamping them, and tossing them into your desk drawer for later. you sit comfortably in your chair, finishing up writing the address on the last one, when richie hums to himself.

"what?" you ask, spinning around to face him. he holds a letter up from his seat on your bed, sitting crisscrossed. his magnified eyes are glued to the words.

"nothing, you just missed one. except, it's not for your pops..."

"what do you mean? i didn't write one for anyone e—..." and it dawns on you. "richie, can i have that letter, please?"

"uh, yeah, nope... 'dear beverly marsh—'"

"richie, god, please!" you fling yourself at him, and he screams, throwing his hand up so you can't reach it while you climb over him. there are a few grunts as you dig various body parts into his flesh, grabbing for the paper, but he's not having it.

"why the hell are you— ouch! —writing a letter to bev?" richie questions, shoving at you a bit to get a good look at the piece of lined paper. "is it a looove letter?"

your silence forces you both to stop your movements, and the pink on your cheeks makes richie blink a few times.

"wait..." he begins, "does that.. do you.. do you like beverly?"

"what does that even mean? 'like'? of course i like her, she's one of my best friends! why wouldn't i? she's kind, and pretty, and one of the best people i know."

"yeah, okay, but do you want to stick your hand down her pants?"

"richard tozier!"

"well, you know what i mean."

"unfortunately, yeah, i do. but... that's not.. i can't, you know, like her like that. she's a girl," you squirm, scooting over to the headboard of the bed. richie leans up next to you, his shoulder bumping yours.

"so she's a girl. if she were a dude, would you do it?" richie presses.

"do what?"

"stick your hand—"

"beep, beep, richie!"

"what i'm saying is, if she were a guy, would you like her?"

"uh, i don't know, i guess," you admit, your hands in your lap. you bite your lip.

"then what's it fucking matter?" he asks, brows curved inward, "just admit it."

you blink at him, kind of understanding where he's coming from. you suppose you never could accept how you felt because it's the 80s, and you're in derry, so same-sex relations remain strictly platonic. you wonder if others have felt, or feel, the same way you do. maybe it's not so bad. maybe you can say it out loud, to someone.

"i have a crush on beverly marsh."

it feels empowering. like you could stand on top of your roof and scream it to the entire world, make everyone know that you, a small-town girl in maine, likes another girl. it feels empowering, but also incriminating— like you have something to hide, like you should be guilty for feeling this way.

guilty of what? loving another human being?

"well, shockingly, that's not the most lesbian thing you've ever said to me," richie quips.

"beep, beep, richie."

"anyway," he clicks his tongue, desperate to change the subject, "so the fireworks. what's your game plan?"

"right. well, we'll probably have to ask bill to tell eddie's mom that they're studying. you know how she gets when me or bev call— rant about how he can't hang with us 'cause we'll force him into an orgy 'n shit," you laugh dryly.

"wouldn't mind an orgy with her," richie whistles lowly.

"her, and who else? stan's mom? she's too high-strung for that."

"with my charms? pft, please," he replies, signaling down his body.

you roll your eyes. "oh, for sure, she'll be on her knees in no time."

"nah, she'd break a hip."

you laugh. "okay, focus— so you got the fireworks, bill's got eddie's mom—" ("he'd better share!") and everyone else should be able to make it. bev and ben can sneak out, and mike is pretty much free to go wherever. i can convince stan's mom that we're spending the night at bill's, with supervision. she likes me, but i can't be sure she won't think i'm trying to fuck the jew out of him."

"he wouldn't mind."

"seriously, richie, learn when to shut the fuck up," you scold, and he laughs, "anyways— do ya think mike could scrounge up a picnic again, or should i go over to bill's to make one? i think mike would want to do it..."

"yeah," richie yawns, and he leans on your shoulder. you sigh softly, sweep his hair away from his face, and slip his glasses off, onto the bedstand. "should prolly head home."

"no, it's pouring out. you've stayed here before," you tell him, pushing him off of you so you can turn the light out. by the time you've turned yourself around, he's hogging all of the blankets and you frown. rolling your eyes, you mutter something along the lines of "didn't get to eat my graham crackers", and you stash them under your desk.

crawling beside richie, you kick him with your leg as a sign to scoot his ass over, or else. he doesn't listen at first, but another heel in his side, and he's doing as he's told. (richie won't admit it, but he likes being the little spoon); you wrap your arms around his torso and poke his back with your nose as you prepare yourself for sleep.

after a few minutes, richie turns over slightly, glancing at your face. when he is convinced you've fallen asleep, he sighs softly and bites his lip— there are so many things he wishes he could tell you. so many secrets. after hearing you admit you like bev, he feels safer; like someone can relate to him, like he's not alone. it would be the first time he ever admitted it, even to himself.

richie doesn't know you're even listening, but having you next to him makes it easier to say out loud. "okay, so uh, listen... i think.. i think i'm like you, okay? i think i like..."

he's quiet for a moment, but now you're focused; you hadn't been asleep yet, but this is odd of him. you sigh, and snuggle up against him. "eddie. it's okay."

his breath hitches, and he chokes out a "yeah". you think he's fallen asleep after, but you hear small sniffling, and you can't help but tear up too. your grip on his chest tightens, a sign that you hear him and understand. he flips his body around, and suddenly, rather aggressively, pulls you against him, his face in the crook of your neck. his small tears melt into sobs, and yours soon follow suit.

"it's okay, it's okay," you coo, combing your fingers through his hair. he sounds so hurt, so painfully heartbroken. but, so do you.

"is there something wrong with me?" richie cries, the droplets creating a pool in the skin of your neck, "with us?"

"i don't know," you reply, your shoulders shaking, "oh, god, i don't know."

how badly you wish you did; if not to ease your own pain, but most especially his. richie tozier did not deserve to be crying in your arms in the dark, because he fell in love with his best friend. he deserved a much better love story than that.

—

over cereal the next morning, you and richie don't talk much. you're both reeling from the many emotions that were expressed last night, and you're afraid if one of you speaks, it will spoil everything.

your stepfather and your mother are speaking in the other room, and you hear the pattering of footsteps — loud ones, at that, a sure one it's your stepfather — as he walks into the kitchen to pour himself a mug of coffee. he looks as dead as the two of you.

"hey, kiddo, i need you to take the trash out when you're done," he says, glancing at you. it takes him a moment to register that richie is sitting across from you. he gets an eyeful of him, and shrugs nonchalantly, "hey, rich."

"yo," richie replies, stuffing another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. the two stare at each other briefly, before your stepfather becomes bored and pads off into the other room to inform your mother of richie's presence, as she wasn't aware. you hear her nearly shriek, worried that the house isn't clean enough for guests.

"it's fine, mom, it's just richie," you raise your voice so she can hear you, "he literally doesn't care. like, at all."

she says something back, but you don't catch it, as you stand from the table and put your bowl in the sink. richie follows suit.

"so, um... i'll call bill, you handle the, you know, and then i can head over to stan's to let him know the plan. you got everyone else?" you quip, and richie smirks at you.

"you need to take the trash out, kiddo. but, yeah, i got everyone else."

"okaay," you reply, groaning.

richie leaves a few minutes after, through your window, for dramatic effect. you tell your parents he left through the second living room, a sliding door to the backyard in it. they accept it.

calling bill is easy; he always answers, (as he is always home and his parents don't care much for the phone), and rather quickly, too. it's easy to convince him, as well, as he's kind of excitable. he agrees to free eddie.

you call stanley, next. his mother picks up, and you curse to yourself. she's a hard nut to crack.

"hi, mrs. uris!" you tell her it's you, and you swear her tone becomes a bit sharper, but she stays polite. as is the way of jews.

"hello there, sweetheart."

"is stanley home?"

"yes, he is," she replies, you smile. he's always home, too, if he's not birdwatching.

"... could i speak to him?"

"oh! yes," she says, and she barks his name quietly, a sign that he was probably walking past her when you asked.

you tap your foot as there is brief movement on the other end, and stanley breathes into the phone just a millisecond before he speaks.

"hello," he says softly.

"hi, stanny! you free today? great!" you chirp cheerily, smiling against the telephone.

"o-oh, uh, yeah—"

"i thought we already established that."

"oh. um, yeah, i guess.. we have," he sounds dejected.

"kay. i'm coming over."

"what? wait, okay—"

you hang up, and hop slightly as you turn yourself around to grab your things. once you've gotten them, you head out to the place stanley calls home, a small house right outside of the synagogue.

you knock on the screen door at the back of the house and bounce on your heels as you await stanley. the locks on the door rattle briefly, and he's there, pushing open the door to let you in. you thank him and slip off your shoes in the entrance.

"so, you wanna hear about what we're doing tonight?" you say happily, poking his shoulder with a giant grin on your lips.

he swallows. "okay..."

you capture a handful of his collar, and pull him closer to you; he turns beet red. "we're gonna light off fireworks! but i gotta tell your mom we're staying at bill's."

"what? are you guys insane? that's dangerous!" stanley whisper shouts. he looks at you in complete and utter bewilderment.

"i know!" you cheer, "it'll be a blast!"

"no, i'm not doing that!"

"pleaaaase?" you beg, giving him puppy eyes, "it won't be fun without you."

he rolls his own. "no! that's ridiculous!" stanley crosses his arms, glances at your sweet face, and huffs dramatically. "ugh! fine! only because i don't want any of you doing something stupid. mostly you, because you're accident-prone."

"you know me too well, uris," you whisper sappily, and give him a strong hug. he refrains from doing it back for a second but sighs and wraps his arms around your shoulders.

"stanley!" mrs. uris calls out sharply, and she shakes her head stiffly at him. you immediately take a few cautious steps away from him. "what on earth are you doing?"

"i, uh, was just hugging her because..." he trails off slowly.

"my grandma died," you spit out.

"oh! goodness, when?" mrs. uris asks, putting down her basket of laundry.

"um—" you think of a random time, and say, "last night."

unfortunately, stanley says "this morning" simultaneously.

you glance at each other.

"last night," stanley says, "i forgot, and thought it was this morning."

"oh," mrs. uris mutters, "goodness, child, you almost had me thinking you just hug that girl for the sake of it."

"yeah, nope, i would never," he agrees, "she has like, um, ...cooties."

when the high-strung woman finally skitters away, you and stan release a breath.

you're the first to speak. "cooties, stanley? really? that was your genius idea?"

he throws his hands up in defense. "i'm sorry! it was the only thing i could think of. i couldn't say AIDS!"

"i think AIDS would have been more redeemable."

"hardly!" he exasperates, "'cause then she'd think you're a homosexual man with a sex addiction under that skirt and scrunchie!"

you break out into a fit of laughs and shove stanley's shoulder. he shoves you back, and then you're both laughing.

"what? so how am i supposed to convince her to let you come with me to bill's when she thinks my grandma just died and i have cooties?" you inquire as you both step into the main section of the house and prepare to enter the living room.

"with slow coaxing and distance."

—

somehow, all of the losers are able to come— with slow coaxing and distance.

a symphony of crickets echoes down the dirt path, matched with the small pattering of eight pairs of feet. the bugs' song drowns out eddie and richie's bickering at the front of the group, but soon, stanley's soft voice joins in. the sun has already dipped low past the horizon, coating the sky in a hazy blue-grey, but the large trees block out the color significantly. the greenery tickles at your ankles, sly weeds brushing up against you.

a few feet in front of you, stan's pearly whites sneakers kick up rocks, a thin powdery layer of dust residue sliding around the heels, and coating the sides. his laces are neatly tied, and he has taken extra care to tuck the ends away to avoid them from collecting dirt; a signature, and neurotic, move on his part. his socks are a snowy white, and nearly match the pale tone of his calf. almost as if he might turn suddenly and catch your prying eyes, you scrape them to the heavens, admiring the stars that begin to trickle into the blanket above you. you are startled as eddie shrieks, and you manage to catch a glimpse of richie waving a handful of mud from the mucky dissolve at the end of the path, which must have been created during the rainfall yesterday.

"that's literally so disgusting! no! richie, if you fling that at me, i swear to fuck—!" his voice heightens to a womanly pitch, as he withers back from richie's sopping palm. in turn, he snickers devilishly as he circles around eddie like a vulture, with stanley's disapproving expression prominent on his boyish face.

"do you realize how sick i can get from that, huh? flesh-eating bacteria can get into my fucking cornea if a rock cuts my eye!" eddie nearly wails, throwing his hands up to protect his face. richie makes inhumane sounds following eddie's spring for the opening up ahead.

bill shakes his head contently, mirrored nearly identically by beverly and mike. you glance around at the meadow, and your heart skips a beat when you catch sight of a small glow up ahead, hovering just above a patch of flowers.

you squeal and push past the others to get a closet look at the fireflies now littering the meadow. you like to catch them, but not with malice— you capture them, and let them crawl on your hands until they decide to fly again. you giggle, spinning around, arms wide open, admiring the plethora of them.

they're everywhere, and you're in your own personal utopia. richie appears next to you, and he allows a firefly to land on his finger. "hey, watch this."

you eagerly grin as he moves his other hand over the bug, and then— he crushes it, wiping the glow across his skin. you gape at him, and then scowl. "richie, you're such a dick! it was innocent!"

"yeah, but my skin glows!" he replies, showing his hand to the others. none of them are amused, as they peer at your now heartbroken expression.

"that was harsh, rich," bill says, shaking his head in disappointment.

"i thought it was cool," richie mumbles, adjusting his glasses.

you roll your eyes at his response and continue to gaze off into the dark at the glowing bugs. you manage to capture one and cup your hands as you march over to stanley.

"hey, hey, check this out," you tell him, and he cranes his neck to watch as you open your hands, and show him the lightning bug. he slowly reaches out, and it crawls onto his forefinger. "isn't he so cute?!"

"yeah, definitely," stan agrees. the glow from the bug as he raises it up to face reflects off his nose, illuminating some stray freckles on the bridge. his eyes are lit up to match, and they never leave the insect, even when it ultimately makes its flight elsewhere.

"hey, lovebirds! come help me collect some sticks! or should i wait 'til y'all are done gushing over a bug?" richie barks, raising his arms, which are full of twigs, for what you assume is a fire.

"we're not—" stanley begins, but richie is already turned away and focused on something else.

you toss stan a bashful grin. "c'mon, birdboy. 'm sure mike brought marshmallows 'n stuff for s'mores."

"wait—" stanley says suddenly, voice risen uncharacteristically as he grips your arm. when he's positive he has your full attention, he drops contact with you, and stares at the grass below. "u-um, i got you something. i-it's not like anything big, you know, just like.. i saw it, and thought of you, or, er, us."

you blink at him. "you didn't have to—"

"—no! uh, i mean, no. i wanted to," stanley replies, fishing into the pocket of his khaki capris. there, he turns over two bracelets— they're woven, some sections tan and others colorful. there are two short brown strings at the latch on both of them.

"oh, my god, stan!" you say quietly, sticking your wrist out happily. you're grinning, and you can't explain the butterflies in the pit of your stomach or the heat rising to your cheeks. "they're so cute!"

"heh, thanks," he says, stepping forward to slip the bracelet over your wrist. it feels oddly intimate. "i, uh, it's not much, but.."

"no, no, i love it," you chirp, keeping a hold of his hand while you admire the charm. your grin reaches your eyes as they rise to meet his. the feelings expressed by simply the contact of your gazes sends rushes of excitement into your bloodstream. "i'll never take it off. not once."

then stanley suddenly stares into the sky, his lower lip tucked under his teeth. his brows are now curved in concentration. "d-don't look at me like that."

"like what?"

"like this is the best present you've ever gotten. l-like this is the happiest you've ever been."

"it is," you say softly, "this bracelet means the world to me. i've never felt so cared about, not ever."

you take the second bracelet from his hand that remains stretched out, like he's offering the jewelry. you slip it onto his wrist, and use it to pull him into a warm embrace, your arms wrapped around his neck. your right hand rests on the flesh of it, a few curls brushing against your skin.

"thank you, stanley."

your entire being buzzes incessantly as he accepts your gratitude, and you pull away. the air hitting your chest leaves you chilly, the empty kind; disconnecting with him now feels like abandoning the other half of your body, and leaving it frozen in place. you feel as though without him you will always be cold. the empty kind.

richie makes short work of the fire, relaying a grand story about his survival in the woods at six years old, and his incomparable courage that winter. the flames are low and small, but no one dares tell him to stoke them or toss in some leaves for an extra shove, as he seems so content with the low burn as it is. you all subtly cuddle up next to each other, but bill is the most obvious, physically— he scowls and wraps his arms around himself while eddie is vocally unhappy.

beverly leans into ben, subconsciously, and the sweet boy glows brighter than the fire, his skin illuminating a deep red, like an apple. beverly's scarlet hair, in turn, rivals the fire as it roars. her hair, and the way it is ruffled and sharp with each sliced strand, resembles the flames as they lick up towards the sky. the reflection of the campfire makes it burn ever the more vibrant, and it melts onto the skin of her freckled shoulders and nose.

you're cut from your stupor when richie nudges you, and he whispers, "you're staring", as though you weren't already aware. the others don't catch on, fortunately, as they all listen intently to the process of shelving meat, as expressed by mike. you find it riveting, really — as riveting as the tale of processed and packaged animal flesh can be. a silence ensues once richie makes a horrible joke about vegans, and then he clears his throat awkwardly.

"so, fireworks? who dares me to blow one up eddie's ass? maybe it'll get the stick outa there," he chirps, and eddie shrieks and chucks a stick at him.

richie smirks at him and tells him to follow him so they can fetch the fireworks and eddie reluctantly agrees. they scatter off, and you watch contently as they bump shoulders. your brows draw in, a bit depressed by the two of them— how badly you wished they knew. how badly you needed them to know they were everything you dreamed to be.

while you all wait for eddie and richie, ben and beverly disappear behind the trees to go explore this stream ben had found. he told her he felt very poetic being near it, which he had hoped would signal something to her, but she hadn't noticed. in the meantime, you and stanley stay by the fire and discuss his journal, as he gushes about a ruby-throated hummingbird, and shows you a light sketch of one — he shaded the throat, and it makes you smile. he's certainly improved on his work, and you feel a rush of pride break through the dam of your chest.

"stanley, you've really been practicing," you tell him, running your index finger over the graphite lining the yellow paper, "i can tell it's a bird this time! and it's not having a heart attack!"

he nods in approval, and he takes a second to realize you were referring to the first time you met when you told him his art looked like it was having a health scare. his dull eyes blink at you momentarily, like he's trying to figure you out or understand you— and it dawns on you that he's not thinking about the drawing anymore— but rather, he's trying to understand you as a whole— as though you are some sort of puzzle he can't quite put his finger on.

stan's attention retreats back to the journal, flipping occasionally to the next page and reading the notes he's taken on each bird. when your eyes drag down his face, you feel a twinge in your stomach— there's simply something about stanley uris that you can't quite put your finger on, either, and you rather like that about him; it gives you space to unravel and discover each day. you always feel like you're learning something new and jarring about him, and you like to think that gives him depth.

however, his face holds something harsh and cold— something that remains constant, despite the circumstances of his mystery— and it's the sadness. it's the sadness and the fatigue, written like scars across every inch of flesh, a consistent tattoo of sorrow. he's imprinted with it, as though it's simply the base coat on the canvas of his life— and it hurts you, seeing him sad. and it's worse knowing that you don't think you've seen stanley uris any other way.

and you consider, briefly, just for a striking moment— that maybe he's only sad when he's looking at you.

stan recounts a conversation he had with a girl in your shared english class, persephone— known universally as percy — an introverted blonde girl, who has a curious knack for all things odd and quirky. she likes to wear lacy, flowy dresses, and unusual jewelry. she has a rather soft voice, like listening to a cloud speak— and she too enjoys birds. he says it's been a while since he's had a decent talk with someone about the animals, and that he's happy she appears genuinely interested and engaged in the topic. you aren't surprised, by this, though; you half expect percy to be some sort of angelic tree nymph.

you open your mouth to reply to his story, a bitter tang of jealousy on your tongue you don't recognize, but richie tozier beats you to it. almost to your relief.

"what's up, whores?! you ready to blow this place up?" he calls out, raising some fireworks, with exhausted eddie dragging behind him. he looks like he wants to swallow gunpowder and then a match.

you find yourself beside him, hands on his shoulders. he's too tired to even remove them. "eds, what the hell happened to you?"

his eyes are hazy. "richie thought it would be smart to go through the shit path, and now i've probably got seven diseases, at least."

richie smirks. "didn't want to go the usual way. woulda got caught by the po-po."

"you're a handful, tozier," you say.

"you love it," he replies, blowing you a kiss.

"you got me."

the rest of the night is soft chaos; richie lights off the fireworks, and they burst in bright and vibrant colors, lighting up the night. the air is crisp and free, and the grass between your toes is heavenly. you become drunk on your youth, an alcoholic in your own right. you wonder, briefly, if this is the peak— if this is the highest point of your life, if this is what you're meant for. if you're the peter pan of your successful friends, if they will all grow to be everlasting lovers and soulmates.

if this is where your journey with them ends.

and, by god, watching the way beverly looks when she's in her element, dancing barefoot with the rest of you— the way they all gaze at her like she's some sort of angel, some sort of saving grace. the way you gaze at her. how your chest aches. how it burns, to be amongst her beauty, to be jealous and insecure and in love all at once. your feet buzz with the shake of the earth, the fire in the sky. your skin sears, like ashes racing to compete. at this moment, you swear you feel your entire being burning alive.

and it is exhilarating.

and as you watch them, hooting and screaming and letting their voices be heard, you feel infinite. like the world is putty in your hands, like they are the most exhilarating people you'll ever know and you'll spend the rest of your life just settling. and your heart calms, because suddenly everything is simple; you want to hang out with these people until the end of time.

and stanley, the way his curls glow under the fireworks— the way his skin shimmers in possibility. the sadness so present in his face has faded, like he's suddenly hazy and thoughtless. his movements, they're slow and unsure, like he's seconds away from making a fool of himself. but he's beautiful— like some sort of saint— stanley is the human form of apollo, he's the sun himself. apollo— you crave that for him. and his soil eyes stray from the others and meet your excitable ones; his expression is not blank, but rather glowing. you can't define a single emotion on it, but rather a feeling. one that doesn't have a word. one that just is.

and he's looking at you like you're a goddess— you, with a crown of flowers sewn into your chaotic head of hair, you, with your flowy skirt and bare feet— and you know no one has ever looked at you like that. it sparks something in you, something luminescent and empowering. and god, he glows. that boy glows.

and it hits you both at the exact same time, like a comet striking the earth— an epiphany in the form of a human.

i want to hang out with this person until the end of time.

and maybe, you consider, just for a moment, almost a guilty thought—

he wants to hang out with you, too.

is that so bad to wish for?

a person to spend the rest of your youth with?

a person to spend the rest of your life with?

a person to call your own?

and by god, you want it to be him.

let your cries shake the earth, if it isn't.

[🌿] taglist:

@hannarudick @cedricisnotonfire @russian-romanova

#it #the losers club #stanley uris x reader #losers club x reader #beverly marsh x reader #stephen king #it 2017 #stanley uris #stan uris #it fanfiction #stanley uris imagine #beverly marsh imagine #kassie writes #BW

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undreaming-fanfiction · 5 years ago

Text

A night to remember: The Gifts

Fandom: Cats the musical Rating: T Pairing: multiple in future chapters, Tuggoffelees, Victoria/Plato, Demeter/Munkustrap etc. Category: magical circus AU, slow burn Chapter number: 2 Chapter summary: Before he became the Magical Mr. Mistoffelees, he had been Quaxo. Before she became Victoria, she had been "the mute" or "white-hair". And both of them had a "gift".

The previous chapter: Prologue

Before he became the Magical Mr. Mistoffelees, he had been Quaxo, a short, pale and dark-haired boy with eyes too old for his age. He didn't really like being Quaxo in the first place, but it was definitely better than being nobody. And being a nobody, while unimaginable for some people, was frighteningly close to Quaxo and his sister's reality.

Of course, she probably wasn't his real sister, but he could never be sure, could never verify or disprove their genetic relation. Some days he thought about it and always came to the same conclusion - that even if he could find out, it wouldn't matter. They probably had a much better relationship than most siblings anyway. They had never learned who their parents were, why they were abandoned or if their original families still lived, and perhaps they only met in one of the shelters in which they occasionally spent the night. All that Quaxo knew was that she had been appearing in his earliest memories and he had very few of those without her. He believed it was the same for her.

Victoria hadn't always been Victoria either - they usually called her "white-hair" (although it was only pale blond, Quaxo thought angrily, she wasn't old or anything, why would they call her that?!) or "the mute" - but she was luckier than Quaxo. One particularly cold day, they were trying to survive the night outside and the sharp autumn wind brought in a page from a newspaper, probably something on an exposition about Queen Victoria (Quaxo never knew what exactly the article was because both of them had only been learning to read, here and there, when the adults felt generous and they helped them with some work in exchange). Not-yet-Victoria caught the page and her tired eyes lit up with excitement that Quaxo had never seen before. She shoved the page in front of his eyes and proceeded to point to the name and to herself, looking at him anxiously, as if she needed the assurance that this could be her, that what she wanted mattered. His teeth were chattering with cold, but he still managed to smile and nod. "Of course," he managed to stutter out. "Anything, anyone you want to be, Victoria."

As he was crushed in an enthusiastic embrace way too tight for her fragile arms, he felt a rush of happiness and perhaps a slight tinge of envy. If he too could only find out who he wanted to be...

Quaxo never liked to speak out loud, it was against his timid nature, but when the people on the street called her "Mute" again the next day, he straightened his spine and looked them in the eye. "Her name is Victoria. Remember it."

---

Things were never easy for them, but they definitely got more bearable when the siblings found out they could do things. Most people could do at least something well - paint, cook, run or make jokes, those things were normal in Quaxo's book. But he and Victoria were different. The things they could do should not be real and, after asking about them on the street and being disbelieved, laughed at or accused of lying, decided together they would never mention them again. Using them, however, was a completely different matter.

It happened for Victoria first. Whenever she wanted Quaxo's attention, she would jump, point, clap...pretty much anything she could think of. But one day, a careless driver almost ran Quaxo over. The boy was exhausted from another night spent outside so he wasn't paying attention, clapping wouldn't do any good in the noise of traffic and as Victoria was behind him, she could only grab his arm and pull, as hard as she could. She felt something strange happening at that moment, as if something left her. And it wasn't only her imagination, because her brother stared at her in awe, his mouth agape. "Did you just...shout?" he asked her incredulously.

She shook her head, pointing to her throat. Her voice had never worked, for as long as she could remember.

"But...but I heard you!" Quaxo blurted out, grabbing her shoulders and examining her, as if the reason for what he had heard would be written on her face. "I heard you say Watch out! And no one else was around...and it..." he paused for a moment, unable to find the right words, "...it sounded like you. Like I've always thought you would sound..."

Victoria tried. She tried to speak, whisper, she opened her mouth again and again, but no sound would come out. Eventually, she slumped down in Quaxo's arms.

Nothing. As I thought, she shrugged in disappointment.

A sudden embrace "I heard that! I heard your words! That wasn't nothing, Victoria, that was...!" He took a step back, watching her with curiosity. "That wasn't speaking. What exactly did you do?"

After the initial shock, the pair slowly found out what exactly happened. As long as Victoria moved or gesticulated, she could project her thoughts, as if she were speaking. At first, she was terrified, and conveyed with numerous sharp movements how what she does isn't natural, that people would be afraid of her, call her a monster...but Quaxo never shared her point of view. He was in awe and kept repeating that what she could do was amazing, unique, that she should never feel ashamed of it. That helped to ease her worries and finally, let her brother convince her to use her gift. She spent weeks practicing with Quaxo, opening her mouth at the same time with the stream of thoughts she was projecting, looking in the mirror and finally, their efforts paid off. Without meticulous observation, it seemed like she was simply talking, although other people made fun of her exaggerated gestures and constant pacing around when she "spoke".

It was at this time when Victoria started climbing onto the window sill of the local ballet school, balancing on the narrow beam and imitating the dancers. She had always loved to watch them, she and her brother spent so many evenings peeking through curtains or sneaking into theaters, variety shows and dances for both warmth and entertainment, but he had never seen Victoria so eager to learn the skill before. When Quaxo asked her about it, she explained that dancing made it much easier to convey her thoughts, to project what she really wanted to say. Quaxo only nodded and didn't push the topic any more, but the following Christmas, he managed to surprise Victoria with a small, cheap pocket radio, to help her learn in a safer environment, he said. And if he happened to be there for every single dancing practice and watched her with a content smile, well...that was nobody else's business but his.

---

Quaxo's gift manifested several months later. The seasonal work was scarce those days and he was watching a baker unpacking his stand early in the morning. He saw a loaf of bread, close to the edge, and thought how lucky a coincidence it would be if it were to fall off and thrown away by the baker. Then he could pick it up and he and Victoria would have something to eat. And just as he had finished his thought, there was a strong gust of wind out of nowhere, knocking the loaf off the stand and prompting a stream of swearing from the baker. The man looked around, saw Quaxo and waved at him. "You there. Help me finish unpacking this before more wind messes up the whole place, will you? I can give you the loaf plus a few more defective pieces."

Quaxo couldn't believe his luck, but in the following days, he found out that it wasn't simply good fortune or series of lucky coincidences. As if things around him only waited for his prompt to fall into places he wanted them to be, a tiny nudge and everything suddenly worked out. It took Quaxo a while to find out the pattern, but after a while, he could confidently say that he had a strange power, just like Victoria. The best way he could describe it was that he could make tiny alterations to reality, not that he would ever dare to attempt larger ones - he could make people notice him or miss his presence altogether, by making them stumble at the right moment, look at his reflection, turn their head...he could also swap objects in two different places, make things look less or more appealing, so many small but intriguing things! He would experiment each day and Victoria would watch, clapping her slender hands in excitement.

It was around this time that Quaxo started considering using his and Victoria's powers to make more money. Nothing illegal, even though the prospect was tempting, Victoria's high moral standards would never allow it and Quaxo had to admit he didn't feel like becoming the bad guy either. Perhaps through an unconscious use of his powers, perhaps as a true coincidence this time, his gaze fell on a discarded leaflet for a shop with tricks, pranks and would-be magical items.

He nudged Victoria. "Say, sister," he winked at her with a barely visible smile, "how about becoming performers?"

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

The next chapter: The Magician and the Dancer

#cats #cats fanfiction #cats the musical #quaxo #Mr. Mistoffelees #victoria #circus au #magical circus au

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roseamongroses · 5 years ago

Text

W.A.L: “Because Dreaming Costs,” (13)

Summary: Eden was the lowest of the low, a monster, hardly human, and was set to be executed. Roman was on trial, perpetually stuck in time until it was time to atone for his families sins.

Neither cared much for staying trapped.

So when a Stranger offered freedom, offered peace, offered power, it was hard to say no.

Even if it put them on the wrong side of history.

Vibes/ Tags:time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

Warnings: Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries, Mentions of past Death, minor character death/suicide, repression, cursing,

Characters: Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani

Ship: Roceit

1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

(12) (13)

---

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Logan’s eye twitched, “You didn’t even ask me,”

“This situation goes beyond you, Logan,” Emile said, “As demonstrated by your little spar, you’re the most capable of handling him.”

“Patton can handle him fine,” Logan prompted, “And that doesn’t explain why you’re taking him on as an Apprentice. He doesn’t deserve it--” Logan shut his mouth.

Emile tensed, the leather chair squeaking, ”It is not about who deserves it,” he said, words slow, “No one deserves to serve the Goddess.”

“Yes, sir…” Logan mumbled.

“Logan, I know you’re upset about me not asking you beforehand,” Emile admitted, “But I had to act quick. He wasn’t meant to be held in the Chambers for any longer and with his magic manifesting so...fast, it would’ve been dangerous to let him go.” he said.

“Dangerous? He’s a shapeshifter?” Logan frowned, “Sure, they’re rare, but artificially they’re not impossible--”

“He isn’t artificial,” Emile said, and Logan froze, “He’s half-human, so he isn’t artificially instilled with magic the same way Virgil and I are, it’s genetic,” he opened a drawer, pulling out a particularly bulky file, “I don’t know how, but the Stranger managed to not only find a shape-shifter, but he managed to agitate their genes enough to cause a rapid manifestation of previously untapped power.”

“Bu-But, all the shapeshifter magic folk are suppose to be--”

“Dead?” Emile offered, “Well he isn’t.”

“But the official records--”

“Official records will and will continue to be wrong on occasion,” Emile flipped through the file, “What I’m most concerned about is how the Stranger managed to find him,” Emile sighed, “Or why he bothered to find him in the first place.”

“You think it’s part of the Stranger’s plan?” Logan asked.

“Yes, but don’t bother trying to ask Deceit about it,” Emile warned, "Elliot already checked and Deceit doesn’t know anything about what the Stranger was planning.”

“So...what’s my assignment?”

Emile chuckled, “To be his friend, of course.” he said, “In any other situation, Virgil would’ve had this assignment as apart of his recovery, but seeing as we are...unsure of their past relations--”

“He tried to kill Virgil.” Therefore he was better left dead.

“Hey may have tried to kill Virgil,” Emile corrected, “I was simply trying to be cautious before, but nothing is factual at this point. We have no facts, Logan, and that’s a problem,” he continued, and Logan begrudgingly nodded in agreement, “That’s why you’re handling this until we determine his threat level. I trust that you can handle this, but if you don’t trust yourself I’m willing to find someone else.”

“Do I need to find someone else?” Emile asked.

“No sir,” Logan sighed, “I accept the assignment.”

---

Deceit could hear singing.

It started as a low murmur as always, Roman’s voice groggy with a hint of a laugh. Then came the touches, which Deceit didn’t mind. He was more than used to their more...needy tendencies--feeling Roman grabbing his hand, Roman tugging him, Roman, Roman.

Always commanding Deceit’s utmost attention, the greedy bastard.

And in the mornings, it was always the worst in the best possible way since a sleepy Roman seemed to somehow lose even more of his impulse control. Their fingers teasing Deceit’s skin, tracing his collarbone, barely a whisper around the scales and scars that crisscrossed Deceit’s body. Tangling in Deceit’s hair and brushing the burned and knotted hair.

Always singing.

It’s been weeks since then and Deceit woke up alone.

He could still hear Roman singing.

Sweat slicked down his back as he woke up with a start, breath still caught somewhere between his throat and his heart. Bitter bile rose in his throat as he cleared his mind of fog, trying to remembering where he was. The room Emile put him in was relatively sparse, but in a way that felt better than the oppressive white space of ‘The Chambers’. Almost nice, with soft lights and bright plants curling at the window sill.

Naturally, Deceit felt immensely threatened.

He rose from the bed, fingers twitching as he adjusted his shift, smoothing the familiar shades of brown from his hair into a healthy blonde, his skin paling gradually. His gaze barely flickered to the mirror as he passed, the face of some meaningless historical figure from a book flitting by with a scowl. Before opening the door, however, he paused briefly, face-melting over the mask of scales marring half of his face.

The doors slid open and there was Logan once again at 8:00 sharp to babysit Deceit.

He was never late and hardly early for Deceit’s mandatory appointments, yet Deceit had a strong suspicion he wasn’t accompanying Deceit to the medical wing out of the kindness of his heart. Except it wasn’t a strong suspicion, Logan told him. All curled lip and dismissive gaze, it was the first time Deceit believed he was related to Roman.

“You look like shit,” Deceit greeted.

Logan adjusted his impeccable ironed shirt, “And you’re as eloquent as always,” he said, he offered a hand and Deceit took it. Hot white flashing before their eyes as they arrived at the Medical wing.

Deceit didn’t wait, strolling down the stretching halls, ignoring the disgustingly clean smell of the wing. A few nurses stopped and stared, or better yet blatantly whispered about him as he passed, which was a normal occurrence every time he visited--some even go as far as wearing masks around him, but mostly they gaped. Apparently, he was “a medical anomaly” and “shouldn’t have been alive with the number of injuries he sustained in such a short period” and his favorite “ an uncooperative, gaping asshole”.

He opened one door.

“Oh, my favorite uncooperative, gaping asshole,” Lauren greeted him cheerfully, smoothing her navy scrubs as she picked up her clipboard. She was young, really young, but Deceit’s learned not to comment on that, “Did you sleep well?” She asked.

“It was…” tracing his collarbone, barely a whisper around the scales and scars that crisscrossed Deceit, “I slept,” he said, hopping up on the table.

Lauren’s eyebrow raised, “Insightful.”

“What are you, my therapist?”

“No,” Lauren twirled her white hair, a few strands falling in waves front of her face as she pulled out a pen from behind her ear, “Just keeping you alive, no big deal,”

“It isn’t.”

Lauren cleared her throat at that, “That’s a yikes, dude,” she said, looking like she took a swig of something thick, “Maybe you do need therapy…”

“Don’t.”

“Alright, alright,” She said, probably still writing it fucking down in his file, “But you gotta tell me what you dreamed of that’s got you so embarrassed.” upon seeing her cheeky-ass grin, Deceit knew that they slid from being a professional right into Lauren being nosy.

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“Yes you are," She scoffed, pointing with her pen towards his hair, “So you decided to become a red-head within the past thirty seconds?”

“Wh--” He reached for his hair, and yep. Red curls. Incredibly vibrant red curls. He fixed it as best as he could, but Lauren had got him, and usually, he’d stop that immediately, but, “It was about Roman,” he admitted.

Lauren’s face fell, “Oh,” Deceit was uncomfortable by her dark, thoughtful gaze, “Hey...about Roman--” She was cut off, as the door opened again, Logan stepping inside because fuck patient confidentiality, I guess.

“What about Roman?” Logan asked because fuck patient confidentiality.

Lauren remained silent, her face stone, eyes unblinking as Logan stood behind her. Logan’s gaze easily slid off her onto Deceit, accusatory. If only Deceit knew his crime.

“If you must know," Deceit drawled, face straight, “I was discussing the logistics of fucking your brother.”

Lauren snorted.

Logan’s face somehow receded into his skull, “You’re… disgusting.”

“I mean,” Deceit leaned back, tongue flicking over his lips, “You’re supposed to say that, but objectively have you seen your brother,” he sighed, fanning himself, “Legs for days.”

He was exaggerating in the fact that he didn’t look at Roman or anyone in that way. If he did it was rather infrequent and usually something he ignored if he could help it, but Logan didn’t need to know that.

“You’re bullshitting,” Logan said, mouth firm, “What are you really talking about?” He asked, directing the question to Lauren.

“He’s right,” Lauren said, flipping the pages on her clipboard, “We need to know if sexual contact with the Heir had any adverse effects--both ways, seeing as Roman is particularly prone to… 'overheating', as you know,” Logan’s sour face seemed to imply that was a pleasant memory, “So, I was asking him if he preferred a gynecologist or a urologist,”

It was fascinating how eloquently she delivered that platter of bullshit. Deceit was impressed.

Logan, surprise, surprise, was not, his eyes narrowed, “I don’t--”

“Let me do my job.” Lauren cut him off, “Sir.” she added, pleasant, “It’s completely inappropriate to have you in the room and you’ll only make him more likely to lie and hide important medical information.”

“I never said you couldn’t--” Logan started, but Lauren pointed to the door, “I’ll be back in 30 minutes,” He told Deceit as if they hadn’t been doing the same routine for the last week before he turned and finally left.

Deceit flipped off the closed door, “That was some impressive bullshit,”. Lauren cleared her throat, catching his attention, “What?”

“Well…” She twirled the pen around her finger with ease, “It wasn’t...necessarily a lie.”

Deceit’s face darkened, “We didn’t have sex.”

“Sure.” Lauren said, clicking the pen, “Gynecologist or Urologist?”

“We didn’t.” Deceit growled.

“You'd better not, that’s gross. And you won’t believe the amount of paperwork it’ll cause--that isn’t even including the possible ramifications if you managed to get Roman pregnant,” Lauren said, “Imagine, giving an ultrasound to a statue. Completely possible, but an absolute nightmare. Anyway, it’s been a while since anyone has treated a shapeshifter, so it’s a good idea to get you checked out-- ”

“No.”

“--And it would be beneficial for you to become familiar with any genitalia you choose to replicate, that way you can monitor your health properly, especially if you start to have cycles--”

“I assure you, I won't be having cycles.”

“That's even more concerning. Gynecologist first, then urologist.”

“Fuck you.”

---

Logan and Deceit sparred again.

Logan won, again.

---

To anyone else, Deceit was adjusting fine.

He went to the appointments, he read and reread the same books, he begrudgingly listened to Dr. Picani talk--and that man does indeed talk. He tolerated Logan’s blatant bare minimum tolerance.

He kept his space from the others, he was pleasant, sympathetic. So much so even Virgil stopped scowling when Deceit sat down for dinner and Patton tended to remember his “name”. It seemed as if they were adjusting, reluctantly.

Deceit was adjusting. That constant itch of needing to do something, anything was washed away with a wave of calm.

No, not calm.

Deceit was still pissed.

But it was drowned in certainty. Chill patience rushed over the heat bubbling underneath. He walked the halls, knowing each turn, each face, every creak.

There was an inherent power with Knowing. Something that kept him afloat, even when he was far from shore. And soon enough he combed the books willingly, drinking in the words, once clunky phrases and intelligible languages flowing from his tongue, as if they were becoming under his gaze. He read and he waited, and he read, and he waited.

Opportunity came while in the library.

An ancient room with books thicker than some people. Its rows and rows of books careened over them, a few courageous glimpses of light finding its way to their tables below.

Virgil and Patton sat together, Virgil was sitting like a freak on some crate listening to an audiobook, eyes closed in a way you’d mistake him for relaxed while Patton sat beside him, not reading, only staring ahead.

Logan didn’t sit, Instead, he wandered up and down the aisle, occasionally pulling out a book--flipping through, before adding it to his cart. He never wandered far from Deceit, the only person sitting at an actual table.

Patton stood up, slipping out of the library without a word--not unnoticed, but without much protest.

It put Deceit on edge.

Even though he didn’t know Patton well, the change in attitude was clear. Patton didn’t drift off from the library forgetfully, with that always dazed expression. He rose, expectant. He looked hungry, his skin’s glow sparking with something more intense.

Seconds later, there was an explosion.

Bookshelves shuddered, stacks crashing with plumes of dust following, as another explosion shook the ground.

Virgil was the next out of the room, skittering, close to the floor, face shining with dark eyes. Logan was the next-- not exactly slow, but more deliberate. Taking in the room all at once, and following close behind Virgil, some orders fell out of his mouth too quickly. He was gone, quick.

Deceit was quietly forgotten, and he couldn’t thank them enough.

Right about now, the library was falling apart at the seams, Deceit rose from his seat in time to miss getting crushed alongside with his table. He sidestepped falling books, but couldn’t exactly escape the stinging air, a sharp musk of burning and…

Deceit paused briefly in the wreckage looking back and sniffing but he shook his head. He’d have to figure that out later. He picked up the pace, passing by the distinct, glowing hole in the wall and entering the hallway. Down one way was a trail of burning footsteps, shouting, and his 'team' obviously in need of some help reigning in Patton.

Deceit went the other way, a skip in his step.

---

Knocking on Dr. Picani’s door, Deceit attempted to look concerned, “Dr. Picani there’s been an accident--” The door creaked open by itself, so naturally Deceit let himself in.

No one was inside.

It was a fairly large office, not that Deceit had much room for reference, with plants crawling the back walls, and spilling from the large windows behind the desk. The desk itself was normally neat, orderly, but today the stacks, upon stacks of files were scattered on the floor as if erupting from the desk.

Emile must have left immediately.

Deceit strolled about the big-oak desk, not quite rummaging through anything yet, not when he wasn’t sure if the old man had cameras.

He pinched his lips, eyeing the mess and then the door as if conflicted. He sat down in one of the leather seats in front of Picani’s desk, tapping his feet impatiently, before standing up and reaching for the pile as if to tidy it up. Well, at least that was the plan.

The pile of papers moved.

Deceit flinched, “Shit--” he cursed, scales rippling as he hopped into the chair. The papers continued to shuffle, a glimmer of something peeking through as Deceit leans forward and--

Big, red eyes.

Deceit’s breath caught as the… creature…? No, magic folk crawled from the stack of papers, shaking.

They were hardly bigger than Deceit’s hand, their body almost translucent, as if they were a flicker of light in a baggy dress. And their face...their face was stretched wide, no mouth, only their big eyes peering from their swamp of black hair.

“And who might you be?” Deceit murmured, squinting at the little thing, they seemed to shake even more.

#ts deceit #Deceit Sanders #roceit #Roman Sanders #ts roman #ts sides #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction

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serenlyss · 6 years ago

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Concordat

Rating: G Relationships: ritsu&reigen, ritsu&shigeo Summary: He’s expecting another old woman searching for a beloved family cat, or maybe a young man concerned about a cheating partner, but instead he finds himself face-to-face with a kid. “Is this… Spirits and Such Detective Agency?" (When Reigen Arataka, PI, decided to pursue a career as a detective, he'd never expected to take on a missing persons case. Then again, he hadn't expected to receive said case from a literal child, either, and yet, here he is.) Crossposted to AO3: Concordat

Concordat - An agreement or treaty relating to matters of mutual interest.

This is a gift for my dear friends @winsstar-writes and @pigpantpoop on tumblr for their Detective AU, which I've just fallen in love with so fast hahaha. So here's more Ritsu and Reigen content bc I love their dynamic So Much. I hope you two like it, ily <3

---

Reigen sinks into his office chair, letting his whole body slouch with a long sigh. Business is slow at the agency today, and he’s bored out of his mind waiting for someone to show up and give him something to do. Outside his window, he can hear rain hitting the sill, a gentle summer storm outside chasing the pedestrians indoors. He has no clients scheduled for the rest of the day, and it’s only just past lunch, which means he’s going to spend the rest of the work day sitting around, doing nothing.

He rummages around in his suit pocket for a cigarette and lighter, leaning over his desk. He holds the cigarette between his lips and lights it up, uncaring of the cloud of smoke that leaves his lips and hangs around him. Briefly, he thinks that he must stink of it, and that it won’t make a very good impression if a client walks in on him smoking in his own office, but he can’t bring himself to care, today. He leans back in the chair again, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. Maybe I should just pack it up, move on to something else, he laments with a frown. He’d left a comfortable office job for this, but, well, he’d always been a bit of a drifter. Perhaps the detective life just isn’t what he’s cut out for, after all.

The chime of a bell reaches his ear as the front door to his office is opened, and he hastily moves to put out his cigarette, pressing it down into the ashtray at the corner of his desk. “Come in,” he calls, voice cracking slightly as he attempts to put on his cheerful customer service voice, and pushes himself up from his chair to greet his guest.

He’s expecting another old woman searching for a beloved family cat, or maybe a young man concerned about a cheating partner, but instead he finds himself face-to-face with a kid.

“Is this… Spirits and Such Detective Agency?” asks the literal child who’s come to greet him. He can’t be older than ten, considering the primary school uniform he wears, and he looks up at Reigen from beneath a furrowed brow, dark gray eyes scrutinizing him carefully. His black hair sticks up in all directions, like he’d just rolled out of bed before coming here. Reigen is deeply unimpressed, but, well, it can’t hurt to humor a child for a little while.

“Yeah, this is the place. What can I do for you?” Reigen asks, opting for a plastic smile as he beckons the boy inside.

The boy shuffles a bit on his feet, looking around the office with undeniable skepticism written all over his face, and then reluctantly takes a step inside. The door falls quietly shut behind him, and he hovers in the entryway. His gaze is more deliberate and calculating than most adult clients Reigen’s had. “You’re the detective?” he clarifies, flashing Reigen that uncertain look again.

Reigen resists the urge to sigh. What was with this kid? “Reigen Arataka, PI, at your service! I must say, I don’t get a lot of kids coming here, though. What’s the matter, you lose something?” He can’t fathom why an elementary school student would come to him for answers, of all people, or what a kid would find so important that he’d need the help of a detective to find. It must be some kind of prank.

The kid shakes his head, clinging to the straps of his backpack as though he can’t figure out what else to do with his hands. “No--I mean, yes, but not like what you’re--I’m looking for my brother!” he stammers, fumbling over his words nervously. He looks away, seemingly embarrassed, his face flushed pink. “Nobody else I talked to would take me seriously… the police keep saying they’re going to find him, but they won’t even listen to me when I tell them--” Suddenly, the kid freezes, cutting himself off abruptly.

The mention of a missing brother makes Reigen pause in his tracks, halfway to his desk where he usually sits and consults with clients. He’s an only child himself, but the thought of losing a sibling… He shakes his head, turning to face the boy and raising a brow at him. “Tell them what?” he prompts, though he honestly isn’t really sure he wants to know.

The kid looks up at him with uncertainty, eyes filled with distrust, then glances away again. “My brother… he was kidnapped because he’s an esper,” he mumbles, and quickly adds, “I know it sounds stupid and crazy, but it’s true! I’ve tried to tell the police, but they don’t listen to me! Your sign said you specialize in psychic cases, right?”

Reigen freezes. He’d known at the time that adding that caveat was a stupid idea, but he hadn’t expected anyone to come to him about a missing esper. He’d only done it to attract the easily-manipulated types, the older folks who believe in spirits and the gullible people who think throwing around a little table salt is enough to exorcise them, but this is in a league of its own. “Esper?” he echoes, feeling the dread inside of him multiply.

“Yeah, that’s what I said!” The boy says, impatient. “Everyone keeps telling me to give it more time, but it’s been months now. I can’t give up on finding him!” He fixes Reigen with what is potentially the most determined expression the man has ever seen on such a young child, hands balled into tight fists that quiver with barely-contained emotion. “So? You can do it, right?”

For a few long moments, Reigen can do nothing but stare, and then he clenches his teeth, glaring. “Is this some kind of joke?” he blurts, annoyed. “It’s not funny, kid, so just give it up already.” The words come out a bit harsher than he intends them to be, a hint of spite behind them, but he can’t find it in himself to be remorseful.

He expects the kid to give up then, to either admit to his prank or burst into tears or do some other kid thing, but instead he gets angry. “I’m not lying!” he snaps, stomping a foot on the floor in his outburst. “Two months ago, my older brother disappeared while he was walking home from school. I wasn’t there ‘cause I was in the hospital, but I know he wouldn’t have just wandered off! Someone took him, and I need to find him!” He’s rambling, the words tumbling from his mouth without much forethought, and Reigen can practically feel his desperation in the air. He continues, “I-I can’t just leave things the way they were, I can’t. I have to find him, I’m going to find him. I have to be someone for him, be there for him! If I don’t try, then what kind of lousy brother am I?”

The kid sniffles and reaches up to his eyes, just inches in front of Reigen, and it’s only then that Reigen realizes that the child has begun to cry, big crocodile tears that leave his eyes red and puffy and his nose a little wet. He can feel his brain short-circuiting at the sight of the crying boy; he has very little experience with kids, and would never, in a thousand years, consider himself the kind of person a child goes to for help or comfort. And yet here one is, crying in the middle of his office and all but begging for his help. He takes a breath, steadying his racing thoughts. I’ve never attempted a missing person case before, he thinks to himself, but something keeps him from outright refusing. Ask me to find a cat, sure, but a whole-ass person? I’m not equipped for this… Then again, had he ever really been equipped for a job? He’d always prided himself on being flexible with the kinds of jobs he would take--’flexible’ is a lot nicer of a word than ‘unqualified’--and, well, crying children have a certain persuasion of their own about them.

He isn’t sure what possesses him to do it, but he reaches up and pulls the tan hat from his head, pressing it against the boy’s mop of dark hair with a gentle puff. “Alright, enough of the tears. It’s not exactly my line of work, but what the hell--heck, what the heck?” He corrects himself with a cringe of embarrassment, but the kid doesn’t seem to mind all that much as he peeks out from beneath the brim of Reigen’s too-large hat in bewilderment. “Why don’t we start with a name, huh? Since you barged in here and demanded I help you out.”

The boy blinks, and a little light returns to his dark gaze. “Oh, my brother’s name is Shigeo,” he says, a little breathless, like he’s still processing the fact that he’s finally receiving the help he’s been searching for.

“Well, I was talking about your name, but that’s important, too,” Reigen corrects, flashing the boy an amused smile.

The boy flinches, and immediately the bewilderment is gone, replaced by a childish little pout that’s probably meant to be angry but comes across more endearing instead. Endearing… god, what is wrong with me today? Reigen berates himself. He’s in way over his head. “Kageyama Ritsu,” the boy replies stiffly, clearly embarrassed and attempting to hide it behind a stubborn frown.

Reigen moves over to his desk and flips his pad open to a new page, retrieving a pen and starting to jot down the two names. There will be lots of details to gather, still, but for now he’ll stick to the basics. Once he’s written down the two names and started to organize his messy thoughts, he gestures Ritsu over to sit in the chair across from him. He sets his pen down and clasps his hands in front of him on the desk, putting on his business face. “Alright, then, Ritsu, let’s talk.”

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #reigen arataka #kageyama ritsu #kageyama shigeo #fanfiction #mp100 fanfic #serendipitousfics #im posting this to escape the vore conversation ghpgihpgohigpi #gift fic

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thechildoflightning · 6 years ago

Note

Hello! I was just wondering how the sides are with medical checkups and stuff in your jksf au? Only asking because I have to get a shot soon and I'm squeamish around needles and anything medical related lol

Hope this isn’t too late for your appointment! And if it is, I hope it helps with the aftermath.

Patton-

Pretty okay with medical procedures but absolutely cannot watch other people get any sort of medical procedure (including shots).

He almost died as a kid in the hospital, and because of that, he does become scared of medical facilities. This changes with age as he realizes its because of the building that he lived at all.

As a kid he’s in a fair amount of medical facilities as they try to navigate and figure out his chronic pain, memory issues, speech issues, and everything else, so he gets used to all that. This familiarity helps a lot when he starts T (testosterone) because he has zero fear around needles after having some pretty large ones shoved in his body over the years.

He can’t watch anyone else get any sort of procedure. He gets squeamish as well as worried and he has to look away or leave the room. He was also pretty grossed out by his top surgery drains. (On the other hand- Logan thought it was fascinating).

Roman-

Absolutely hates medical procedures and needles. Especially needles. Roman is terrified of needles and has been that way since he was a kid. He can’t even watch someone else get a shot or Patton inject himself with T it’s that bad.

As a kid his dads would have to sit with him and hold his hand until he would get whatever shot he needed. They tried to avoid holding him down because that just scares Roman more and they want to decrease this fear not increase it. They did have to hold him down on one occasion when Roman got an infection in his eye and had to get two awful shots in his butt. It was miserable for everyone involved, but he absolutely needed to get it That Day and he was completely refusing.

As an adult Roman is better about but will sill cry and put his flu shot off as long as possible. Roman pretty much doesn’t get sick so he’s considered about not getting his flu shot, but he knows that herd immunity is super important, especially considering one of his partners (Virgil) has a suppressed immune system and is way more susceptible to stuff like the flu.

Logan-

Logan is Not A Fan of medical related things- including shots, but knowing the importance of whatever procedure he’s getting is, makes it a lot easier for him. He’ll tend to ask the person performing the procedure a bunch of questions so he knows what’s going on. On the other hand, he could watch like the most graphic surgery ever and not be phased.

Virgil-

Virgil is is fine with any medical procedure he’s aware for and absolutely freaks out about any medical procedure he isn’t aware for. He isn’t really bugged by medical procedures themselves, but being unaware during one is a big fear of his because he doesn’t know what will happen, or what he’ll say, and people could do something to him and he wouldn’t know.

He also hates the dentist because the drilling noise in his mouth is a much too familiar sound to him. (His wisdom teeth removal was 100x worse, because he chose to be awake but now he could hear cracking bone and that noise has Memories attached to it).

Remy-

Remy isn’t happy to have medical procedures done but he’s also been out of doctor’s offices his whole life, so he’s become used to the procedures and appointments even if he doesn't like them. He has a strong dislike for shots (especially because when he gets his flu shot he gets like Mini Flu for a few days) but he’s fine getting them.

Deceit-

Deceit will do literally anything he can do to not end up in a medical facility of any sort. He has a big fear of doctors and people performing any type of procedure whatsoever on him. Has definitely set up appointments he probably needs to go to but cancels anyway. When he absolutely cannot avoid going to the doctor he’ll check what they’re doing every few seconds and be on edge the entire time. It’s not a good experience.

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treefrog203 · 6 years ago

Text

Accidents Can Have Somewhat Happy Endings

Bakudeku Angst

Warnings: Bottling emotions, numbness, questioning self-worth, intrusive thoughts.

Word Count: 4,253 (this got longer than expected whoops)

I’m dedicating this to @todorokitops because they helped me when I was struggling a bit and honestly they’re such a nice person? Like shoot me if I’m wrong but they deserve so much more than a fic dedicated to them. Anyways, please enjoy, it’s my first real fic.

Also, in Izuku POV I typically referred to Bakuboi as “Kacchan”. In Katsuki POV Izuku is “Izuku” or any other nickname I could think of.

As of late, things had been shit to put it kindly.

And if this was Midoriya Izuku being “kind” then you can already assume that things weren’t just shit.

He wanted one break from life, one, but what does it throw back at him for this simple request?

Problems, so many goddamn problems.

I did what I thought was going to be best for the operation, I was trying to capture the villain, I thought the building was still stable, I wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt those people, let alone kill anyone.

He swallowed down a hard lump of guilt down his throat to his chest, slowly chewing away at his lungs, making it insufferable to breath.

That’s right, twelve people died because I failed to make sure the building was secure. Not that I could have done much, it being the only place to push off of other than the air around me. As a result of this failure, my hero’s license was suspended. At least until the media died down and my superiors knew what to do with me.

What were his superiors going to do with him?

Izuku’s brain suddenly went from fifth gear to sixth.

What if they took away my hero’s license? Not that it mattered too much if he couldn’t even protect people. What if I’m not allowed to work anymore? What if they sentence me to prison? What if they sentence me to death? No- that would be too far, or would it? I took twelve people’s innocent lives, what would be mine?

Ration told him that they probably weren’t even allowed to do that to the worst of villains, but another, deeper part, told him he’d deserve it, and that everyone would be happier if that happened.

“No.” Izuku shook his head, attempting to shake the thought out of his brain.

“No. . ?” asked Shouto who had previously been explaining to the green haired man sitting at the table what the possible outcomes were for his offense, he had just happened to ask Izuku if he’d known what he was doing during the tragedy. Easily, he became flustered, having not heard the question and started to assume the worst before apologizing to the man standing at the other end of the room.

“I was caught in thought,” Izuku started.

Shouto interjected, “It’s fine Deku, I understand. Please be careful, thinking too much might cause you to act out in a way that you might regret. You can always come to me if you’d like to talk about it.”

As much as Izuku appreciated the sentiment, something else stuck out the most from his friends sentence, “Don’t call me that right now.”

His throat was dry and hurt, he needed water.

“Call you what?” Todoroki tilted his head, causing white to mix with the red over his part.

“My hero name, seeing as how of this moment, I’m not one. I don’t . . . deserve it.” he mumbled the last part, but Shouto heard.

You never did.

Now is not the time, go away.

He hadn’t realized, but he shook his head again.

“Well that was all I have to discuss with you for now,” Shouto started, “but seriously, if you need to talk, let me know.” Izuku simply nodded before exiting the room.

~~~~~~~~~

Izuku had a dark cloud hanging over his head on his way to the cafeteria. One so dense, it could probably hold its own in a fight against Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow. He was spaced out on his hands, pulling at the skin around his nail beds-a habit he needed to quit, but his mental state being in such a fog he hadn’t even realized he’d been doing it. Blood slowly seeped from his left thumb as a result.

Obviously not watching where he was going, he bumped into a tall frame, apologizing profusely before looking up to see who it was.

“A-ah, sorry, Kacchan,” his eyes suddenly glued to his own shoes, his brain scrutinizing every scuff and imperfection on them that were a result of wear.

“It’s okay, just keep an eye up while you walk.” he replied, before ruffling the green hair in front of him. Izuku froze before peeking up, he’d already figured Kacchan was showing him a slight kindness due to his fuckup, but for him to ruffle his hair?

It both scared and delighted Izuku.

Kacchan gave half a chuckle and a quiet “See ya later nerd.” before continuing his way down the hall.

When Izuku got down to the cafeteria, he got two waters before sitting down at a table. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to have his name be the one floating on the whispers that started up when he entered the room. Only when he went to open his first water did he realize just how bad his cuticle was bleeding. He sighed, standing up and collecting his waters, before making his way down to the small infirmary that’s sole purpose was for small “ouchies”. Just the occasional bumps, bruises, and scratches.

When he got there he gathered up a bandaid, petroleum jelly, and a q-tip before setting them out on the counter, quickly washing and drying his hands before returning to the supplies. He started by opening the jelly, before opening the bandaid to where the pad was revealed, he then took a q-tip and scooped up a small amount of the jelly. Spreading a thin layer of it over the pad for two reasons-the first being if it shifted on his finger at all, doing this prevented the pad from catching on the uplifted skin, because that hurt. The second being that it helped moisturize the nail bed allowing it to heal better. After that, he finished opening the bandaid and applied it to his thumb, closing up the jelly and throwing away the q-tip and bandaid wrapper before putting it away.

He pulled out his phone to check the time, it was only one o’clock. He didn’t have anything else to do today did he? He checked his email, after filtering through what was work related and what was press trying to get interviews (the ratio of press to work was around 143:4). He read those four emails, one being from the day before. When he got to the most recent one, it was saying that after he finished his briefing with Shouto, he was allowed to return home. So he clocked out, and went home.

~~~~~~~~

When he got home, he went to his room, acknowledging the black cat that was sitting on the counter with a pat on its head. He dropped his backpack to the floor, immediately sprawling out on the queen mattress.

After about three minutes of laying there he felt four paws making their way up the back of his leg, before going to his lower back and curling up, purring contentedly. Not long after, he fell asleep.

~~~~~~

When he woke up, it was because a mass of black fur had launched itself from the window sill above his bed directly onto his stomach, which the tiny beast had deemed it’s landing pad.

“Oof!” was the only sound he could give in response.

Getting up, he headed over to Shadow’s bowls. (Yes, he named the cat Shadow in honor of Tokoyami.) He picked up the food dish, opening that bag of cat food and scooping some out, before replacing the dish in its previous spot. Shadow trotted up happily and little crunches could be heard as a result of kibble against teeth. As if on cue, there was a rumble from his stomach.

Izuku went to his fridge, not really thinking much about it as he opened it. He was greeted by an empty fridge and its stale air.

“Shit,” he sighed. He was supposed to get groceries after work today. Glancing at the clock, it was only seven. The grocery store should still be open right?

On his way out the door, he threw on a hoodie and grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet before running a hand through his curls to straighten them out.

For most of the bus ride he spaced out, a very non-Izuku thing to do, in fact, he almost missed his stop because of it.

Entering the building he grabbed a small hand-basket to carry around with him as he picked out his items. As soon as he got on the bus, he’d lost any appetite he might have had previously. He knew if he didn’t go grocery shopping now, he’d be living on takeout for a week and he wasn’t sure if his budget was going to be able to handle that.

At the moment he had this weird numb feeling buzzing about him, it was suffocating. So suffocating he hadn’t heard the angry pomeranian of a man growling at him.

Katsuki POV

“Oi, nerd.” Katsuki started, placing a hand on the shorter one’s shoulder to turn his body towards him.

When he looked into Izuku’s eyes, he immediately knew something was wrong. Instead of his usual bright veridian eyes, they’d turned to a dull pine, glazed over as well. He’d looked into those stupid eyes enough to see a difference.

Not knowing what had come over him, Katsuki was pushing down the violent urge to punch something, this urge was different from his natural fighting instinct. He was genuinely angry, blood rolling to a boil.

He was taken aback by the soft, “Oh… hi Kacchan.”

He looked towards Izuku, his eyes less dull now but still slightly glazed, at least he looked a bit more alert.

“What are you doing?” Katsuki knew he was asking a dumb question because the answer was obvious, but he needed to get a conversation going.

“Grocery shopping.” Izuku mumbled, turning his attention to the bag of rice he’d been holding.

“Well duh, have you eaten?” Katsuki snapped.

“No.”

He took a glance at his basket, noticing it was mostly simple things like ramen, rice, and other simple cheap foods. Stuff you’d expect a college student to live on, not a pro hero.

“You’re coming to my place for dinner.” Katsuki stated, matter of factly, It’d be easy to imagine him placing a hand on his hip as he said it.

“I am?” Izuku looked up confused.

Katsuki nodded, releasing his hand that he’d previously set on Broccoli’s shoulder, not realizing he’d left it there.

“Follow me.” he started heading down the aisle to head towards the deli section.

Half an hour later they were finally finished, somewhere in there Izuku snapped out of his trance, much to Katsuki’s relief.

Izuku POV

They stood on the bus together, the seats being taken because people were starting to head out to bars and clubs. The bus swayed and the most cliche thing happened, Izuku started to fall forward, only to be caught by a grumbling Kacchan, telling him to be more careful.

Izuku really hoped the small blush that flitted over his cheeks went unnoticed by Kacchan.

Katsuki POV

Katsuki wasn’t sure if he’d seen right, but he thought he’d seen Izuku’s cheeks turn pink, whether they did or not, he was content with the thought the could of.

~~~~~~

Izuku POV

Izuku sat patiently on the couch, watching as Kacchan prepped his kitchen.

“May I help?” he asked because it wasn’t the first time he’d been over for a meal. Depending on his mood, Kacchan would or wouldn’t allow Izuku to help him.

Sometimes saying something along the lines of, “Fine! But so help me god, if you burn something in my kitchen there’ll be hell to pay!”

Other times, “No! It’s my kitchen and you’re my guest! Sit your ass down and wait.”

He wondered what it would be today.

“Get your ass over here.”

Oh, so he got to help today. That was good, it had been awhile.

He walked up, carefully watching where Kacchan moved to so he could move out of the way when necessary. It was a fairly small kitchen.

“Cook the rice.” the blonde said out of nowhere.

Izuku washed his hands quickly, then filled up a bowl with water and measured out three cups of rice into it. He drained it before putting more in and setting a timer to let it soak for fifteen minutes.

“Anything else I can help with?”

“Hmm, two eggs, six tablespoons of melted butter, mix it with a fork. Grab a plate and the breading from the bag. Start working on the chicken.” Kacchan mumbled the instructions.

He moved to follow his demands, scrambling the egg and melted butter together in a bowl, spreading out the bread crumbs on a plate. He took the raw chicken and submerged it in the egg/butter mix before rolling through the breading. He set the finished one on a plate so they could later pan fry it in Sesame oil.

When he was pouring out more bread crumbs onto the plate he noticed the colors on the packaging were the same as All Might’s.

How long had it been? At least a good five years or so since his passing.

"All Might. Was there ever a time you couldn't save someone?" A younger version of himself asked.

"Sure. Plenty of times. Right now, somewhere out in the world, someone could be hurting or dying. It sucks, but I'm only human. I can't save people who are out of my reach... That's why I stand tall and smile. I'm the Symbol of Justice. The citizens, heroes, villains, I need to light the way for all of them." the now late hero had responded.

(This is an actual quote from a translation of the manga, it could be a little off but it still conveys the same message.)

I’m so sorry All Might.

Are you?

Izuku’s throat seized, making it difficult for him to breathe.

I know I’m only human, but I was right there, I caused it. I’m the one who made these people breathe their last breath. What about their families, All Might? Right now, there are people in mourning because of me, when I’m supposed to bring smiles to their faces, not tears, All Might!

But that’s exactly what you did, isn’t it? How exactly are you “human” as you claim, when you’ve murdered people?

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Izuku didn’t know his body was capable of jerking this hard. He jumped when the timer went off, forgetting he had even set it.

He swirls the rice around the bowl before rinsing it and measuring out 5 cups of water and transferring it all to Kacchan’s rice cooker and pressing the start button, then did three more chicken breasts.

Izuku took the small liberty of glancing at the usually explosive man that was leaning over the pot of simmering curry roux, hyper focused on not adding too much water to it, otherwise he’d have to put more roux powder in the pot to thicken the consistency again. It was a tedious process.

Izuku noticed the washed vegetables on the counter sitting uncut.

“I’ll take over this, go cut the veggies and steam them so they soften.”

Kacchan handed the spoon over to the broccoli headed man next to him. Making serious eye contact before turning to the vegetables.

Katsuki POV

His eyes were starting to glaze over and turn back to the dull pine color again.

How could he keep them from doing that? It was making him… feel things, and he really didn’t like that.

Izuku POV

Slowly but surely, the same numb feeling from earlier was creeping up on him. He didn’t know how to stop it, so he mostly focused on the roux, or at least tried too.

He kept spacing out, occasionally he’d dig the heel of his foot into the top of the other, forcing him to pay attention, that or he’d pinch himself.

Eventually Kacchan came up behind him with the vegetables in one hand a spoon in the other. An arm on either side of Izuku he scooped carrots and potatoes into the roux. Momentarily ensnaring the smaller of the two between his arms.

“Start frying the chicken?” Izuku mumbled, quietly suggesting it to Kacchan.

Katsuki POV

He pulled a pan out and poured the oil into it to allow it to start heating up as he brought the chicken breasts over towards the stove. Standing next to Izuku as he waited a little longer till he heard the small sizzle and lowered the heat.

Using tongs, he lowered two into the oil that popped in response. He took tinfoil and covered the pan.

Little did he know, Izuku was standing in a battle against himself.

Izuku POV

I just want to lie down and cry. I don’t deserve my hero license, why did they only suspend it? Why did they ever bother with me anyways? Why did All Might choose me? Even now, Mirio is the better choice of the two to inherit One for All. I should have just remained a quirkless, worthless person.

Without his knowledge, a tear rolled down his cheek. Opening the dam a bit to where they flowed slowly down his face.

He faced away from Kacchan as he pulled the curry off the heat and set it down while he went to the cabinet. Pulling out two bowls, two cups, and then grabbing two spoons from a drawer. Setting them out for when the chicken was done, which didn’t take long.

They soon started setting up their bowls, spooning rice and curry into their own bowls before cutting up their cutlets to place on top.

Katsuki POV

He took out multiple spoonfuls of curry powder, placing each one on the roux so he could mix it into the curry and rice when he sat down.

“Hey, midget, you wan-” he cut himself off after looking at the person beside him.

Taking him in, he noticed his eyes were red and puffy, his face wet, and of course, almost as if to add to the effect-he sniffled.

Something within Katsuki froze. He could deal with crying victims anyday, but a crying nerd? How does he fix this? Pull out the special All Might pajamas from his closet? No- that might make it worse. Hug him? Bakugo Katsuki wasn’t good at hugs, he might mess it up and hurt him.

How does he stop Izuku from crying and how does he stop his heart from churning in his chest?

His hand reached out and his thumb wiped under Izuku’s eye, then moving down under his chin to pull Izuku’s face towards his own.

What is my body doing? Shit, what am I supposed to say now? He down looked at the bleary faced man.

Then suddenly, there were arms latched around his waist and a face in his chest, a wet spot slowly forming on his shirt.

“I-it’s a-all my f-f-fault. It’s-it’s-it’s all, it’s all-all, all my fault.” he stuttered into the blonde’s chest.

The churning only got worse as his blood started to boil, still not knowing how to handle the situation.

He decided to slowly move his arms around Izuku’s blubbering figure.

His body relaxed in the slightest when Katsuki wrapped his arms around him, although it didn’t dismiss how tense his body still is.

“I-I k-k-k-killed those p-people. I killed-I killed those-those people.” His teeth were chattering as he gasped for air and his fingers clasped onto the shirt in front of him.

Katsuki pulled him closer.

“I don’t deserve to be All Might’s successor!” he suddenly raised his voice into what could just barely be considered a yell, “I never did!” pained sobs raked through his chest.

With that, Katsuki froze, he didn’t deserve to be All Might’s successor? Fucking bullshit.

“Shut up.” his voice came out in more of a broken growl than his regular voice.

“Why?!” Izuku raised his voice again, this time looking up at Katsuki.

That broke his heart, looking down at Izuku, with pain laced in every stitch of his expression. His eyes like sea glass, so fragile that they could crack. Tears streaming down his face, his nose snotty.

Katsuki went to speak, his voice cracking as he asked, “Why?”

He cleared his throat but it didn’t help, his throat was too raw from being on the verge of tears, “Why, you ask?

(Because I am here! No…)

“Because I’ve never met someone more fucking capable than you, you know that? I’m sure All Might saw it too! Sure you fucked up, we’ve all fucked up. Was your’s a big fuckup? Fuck yeah it was, but you know what? That doesn’t make me love you any less!” He finished, a tear rolling down his cheek.

Katsuki froze, shocked for a second, but it was already too late for him to take back what he said. All he could do was watch Izuku’s face as he processed the words from Katsuki.

“Love me. . .” he paused, before continuing, “You mean like platonically? Or. . . romantically?”

“What do you think?” Katsuki retorts, voice breaking, his heart had been replaced by a bag of bricks.

He lifted his chin and looked away from Izuku, trying to hide his anxiety as he waited for a reply.

Katsuki felt fingers on either side of his face, pulling it down so he was face to face with Izuku. Both of them sporting pink across their cheeks.

It happened, short lived as they broke away to look at the other each asking the other the same question.

Is this really okay?

They answered each other, lips coming together, salty tears adding to the experience of their first real kiss.

“You fucking idiot,” Izuku whispered, “You huge fucking idiot.”

“And you’re one to talk?”

Izuku looked away before noticing the bowls of curry sitting on the counter. “We forgot about the food.”

“We can heat it up later, we’re having a moment here. Talk to me, please?” Katsuki used a small wobbly bottom lip to put him at an advantage.

Izuku POV

Did, did Kacchan just wobble his lip at me? Oh lord, pray for me.

Katsuki POV

“Well… it’s quite a bit… Can we discuss it while we eat?” he’d given in to the wobbly lip, thank god.

“Of course,” Katsuki nodded reaching out to grab his bowl. He stirred it a bit allowing the cutlet to become submerged by rice and curry. Steam still rising from the rice, “they should still be warm enough, we don’t have to warm them up.”

Izuku followed suit, scooping a spoonful of curry powder into his bowl, following Katsuki to the couch where he turned on the T.V. He lowered the volume to sit at five. Allowing them to have background noise for the potentially awkward silences but not being so loud that they’d struggle to hear each other.

They took several bites of their respective curries before Izuku started, “What do you want to know?”

“Everything you can bear to tell me right now, but if it becomes too much let me know. I don’t want to push you.” Katsuki stared firmly, making Izuku aware that there would be consequences if he didn’t listen.

“O-oh, okay, well, where should I start?”

“How about why you were crying in the kitchen just now, if you can.” Who knew the Bakugo Katsuki could be so accommodating?

“W-well you see,” Izuku stumbled at first before firming his resolve, “I felt like I let All Might down. That I shouldn’t have become his successor, that of me and Mirio even now he’s still the better option. And for me? Well, I’d probably be better off quirkless and worthless.”

That last sentence smacked Katsuki repeatedly in the face, with a metal bat, and of course he felt as though he deserved it. I mean, where else would Izuku have chosen those two specific words from?

Izuku continued, “ And I know I’m only human but Kacchan, my goal was to bring smiles to peoples faces as a hero. Now I’ve brought not only death to these families but tears to their faces! How am I supposed to fix that? I can’t revive the dead or give orphaned kids new parents! I just don’t know how I’m going to fix all of this Kacchan.”

Hey, that bag of bricks, also called your heart Katsuki, I think someone dropped a cartoon anvil on it. It’s still just as heavy but convenient in terms of size.

Just as Katsuki is about to start, Izuku says one last thing, “I just, have been holding onto feelings like that for the past two days. I didn’t really think I would break this soon, I’ve held onto similar things longer. I’m sorry for putting you in this situation.”

‘Sorry for- sorry for putting you in this situation?’ Ooh boy, was Katsuki going to (gently) let him fucking have it.

“Don’t be sorry, don’t you ever be fucking sorry for things beyond your control.”

Throwing his arm around Izuku, he ruffled his hair again and says, “Holding everything in doesn’t help, ya know.”

(Say it louder for the people in the back Bakuboi.)

Izuku leans into his side and responds, I’ll keep that in mind.”

No Specific POV

The two finished their curry before curling up on the couch together to watch T.V. In the end though, it was the T.V. that wound up watching them sleep. Noise playing softly and the screen’s light hitting their faces gently.

That’s all folks! The underlined parts strewn in there were me, I couldn’t help myself, tbh if I didn’t try to hold back there’d be at least five more. Ehehehe don’t hate me please?

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #mha #mha fanfiction #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugo #katsuki #mha midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku #midoriya #izuku #shoto #shoto todoroki #todoroki shouto #shouto #tokoyami

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hardheartd · 6 years ago

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❝ BROKEN GIRLS BLOSSOM INTO WARRIORS. ❞

BARBIE FERRERIA? No, that’s actually ELIZA DURSLEY. A SIXTH YEAR student, this HUFFLEPUFF student is sided with MCGONAGALL’S ARMY. SHE identifies as a CIS-WOMAN and is a MUGGLEBORN who is known to be COMBATIVE, STUBBORN, and BLUNT but also PASSIONATE, OBSERVANT, and DYNAMIC.

( pinterest. ) ( stats. )

FUN FACTS

Eliza has a black cat named Frances that she adopted as a kitten the summer before her third and fourth year. She refers to her cat as her child and the animal is frequently seen with Eliza whenever she’s not in an academic setting.

The moment Eliza came to Hogwarts, she was fascinated by quidditch. She didn’t make the team until her second year, the youngest player on the team by far and the youngest beater the team had seen in years. As much as she enjoys the game, that’s all it is to her - a game. She likes the rush she gets when she flies more than anything else though she does prefer to win - but who doesn’t? Upon entering her sixth year, she was elected captain and plans on keeping that title into her seventh year.

Eliza, unlike some in the wizarding community, has absolutely no problem resulting to muggle strategies. She has a mean right hook and anyone who’s ever messed with her friends can attest to that. She has always specialized in defensive spells and hexes but she has no problem punching someone if they somehow get her wand.

In addition to quidditch, Eliza is in the dueling club, for obvious reasons, and an active member of the Herbology club. Those who don’t always see her as a Hufflepuff can very much see her traditional ties to her house upon seeing her makeshift garden in the window sill of the girl’s dorms. She has earned her title of plant mom several times over, though she far prefers the allusions to Persephone than to the joking title bestowed upon her by her fellow housemates.

Despite her combative personality, Eliza has no desire to become an auror, hit witch, or anything of the like after graduation; she wants to be a healer. She’s frighteningly protective of her friends and is always the one who heals their wounds when they get injured and she had learned how to heal her own wounds before she should have. In the coming war, Eliza knows that the side she’s aligned herself will need fighters but an army can’t win if they aren’t taken care of - she has no problems fighting and dying for something she believes in, but she knows the importance of healing in a war zone.

BACKGROUND

TRIGGER WARNINGS: (internal and external) fatphobia, parental abuse (physical and emotional)

Eliza was doomed from the start - a chubby little girl with magical blood bearing the name Dursley, synonymous with bigotry and the loathe of all things different, was never meant to come into the world at all. But here she was - still kicking and screaming if not more vehemently than she did as a baby.

Born Elizabeth Petunia Dursley to Dudley Dursley and Matilda Price, Eliza was the youngest of three and the only daughter in the family - she was also the only child with a drop of magical blood in her system.

Of course, that was never discovered until her Hogwarts letter came, which brought Dudley’s wrath down upon her with a vengeance. However, to say that her life up until that point was remotely easy would be incorrect.

Like her brothers, she had inherited her father’s temper and obsessive loyalty to family; unlike her brothers, she had also inherited her father’s chubby cheeks and round stomach. Her mother, a woman with a waifish figure that rivaled Petunia Dursley’s, put her on a diet before she reached the age of five.

With a mother who constantly poked and prodded her body at every turn, Eliza turned to her father for validation. His compliments were similar to her mothers - a backhanded slap with a sweet in the other hand, though his slaps were far more physical than Matilda’s. But like most children, she refused to see the bad in the people that raised her.

By the time she received her letter from Hogwarts, she was already well trained in obedience, undying loyalty to her family, self-hatred, and loathing of all things different; the letter came as a slap in the face, one that her father reiterated after reading it over her shoulder. Her mother was the one that saved her from Dudley’s wrath, only to look upon her with disgust. It was her mother that convinced her father to send her to Hogwarts, whispering “at least this way we won’t have to look our shame in the face.”

The months leading up to her departure to Hogwarts were miserable; one of the professors escorted her to Diagon Alley, her parents more than happy to pass her onto a stranger. Instead of being excited about the entire experience, she dreaded it. The world of magic was something that her family made damn sure she hated. The trip caused her to break down in tears more than once, seeing all those smiling families made her ache for her own and the hum of magic around them absolutely terrified her.

Her arrival at Hogwarts didn’t excite her anymore. When the Sorting Hat cried out the word “Hufflepuff” Eliza wasn’t sure if she should be excited or not. She didn’t understand which houses were bad and which were good; to be quite honest, she considered all of them to be pretty bad considering they took her away from her family.

The first few months of her schooling was pretty difficult, the young girl withdrawing into herself, still full of rage and loathing for herself and those around her. She struggled in all of her classes too scared of magic to fully allow herself to be immersed in the school work.

Eventually, she became friends with other Hufflepuffs and the odd friend from another house. She started to become herself again; or, rather, she started to find herself among those who didn’t look upon her with disgust and disdain.

As she grew more confident in as a witch, she started to pull herself away from her family’s interests. Her mother spewed hateful words at her during breaks and her father sent her back to Hogwarts with bruises.

It wasn’t until the summer before her fourth year that she refused to go back to her family’s home. She found a shop that would allow her to work and lived in the Leaky Cauldron during the summer, picking up odd jobs where she could.

Of course, she’d been planning it since her second year, after her father called her best friend damned freak and an awful influence on his disappointment of a daughter. She had taken his wrath for far too long, feeling like she deserved it, but when he turned on someone else, someone she loved and cared about like her own blood, she couldn’t accept that - she wouldn’t accept that.

It was during that time that she started to develop a much firmer sense of self. She didn’t need the love of her parents and brothers - she had another family, the one she found at Hogwarts, the one she bloody well chose. And she had herself. That was enough; or that’s what she told herself when she found herself missing the family that birthed her.

She felt the rage inside her start to quell, slowly but surely. She had people who loved her and she could deal with that. Sure, she would punch the odd boy who decided to put his hands on her or her friends and maybe she would occasionally go harder than she needed to during dueling club, but she working on it.

It wasn’t until the Death Eaters and their fascist ideals made a reappearance that the rage beneath the surface came back with a vengeance. There were hints of it before the attacks began. Mudblood started being thrown around whenever she passed by, though she quickly learned to smile back at the person tossing taunts her way. She was used to name calling, she’d been called fat and a bitch by her parents, and she wears both titles with pride now and mudblood was no different. She made herself crop tops with mudblood embroidered in bright pink and purple that she wears nearly every time she goes to Hogsmeade with her friends. She throws smirks over her shoulder at people look at her in disgust or confusion and hexes at those she suspects are Death Eaters or supporters of their cause.

If those people were going to hate her, she would give them a reason to. She fought back more than most people do. She’s mastered almost every hex and dreams of creating more. Unlike some in the Wizarding world, she had no problem resorting to “muggle” tactics, throwing punches when her wand was taken or hexed away. Because of this, she’s been targeted by death eaters, whom she politely calls “Britian’s Trump Supporters.” She meets their sneers with hexes and has gotten into physical fights with them several times over. She refuses to stop fighting or be intimidated by people who hide behind curses and masks.

A war is on the horizon and she’ll die in it before she allows someone she cares about it to hurt in the name of it. Of course, she can’t save everyone, even herself.

WANTED PLOTS AND CONNECTIONS

Note: These are just jumping off points; plz message me if you have any other ideas!

(Tr)eat your girl right - TAKEN BY NATALIA || They’re messing around and feelings are getting involved and oh boi, it’s gonna get ~complicated~

Ride or Die Babey!! - ONE SPOT TAKEN BY NATALIA, TWO OPEN SPOTS || Eliza is loyal to a fault and treats her friends as family, given her blood related family is far from perfect, but these are the people she would live and die for. This would probably work best with Hogwarts students who are involved in McGonagall’s Army.

‘Puff Pride - OPEN, UNLIMITED SPOTS || Eliza is a Hufflepuff through and through and loves her housemate more than anything. She’s the captain of their quidditch team and organizes makeshift tailgate parties in the common room. She’s also been known to comfort the lonely first years who are homesick and has created a running list of birthdays for her housemates so no one goes without acknowledgement. She’s become something of a den mother to her fellow ‘puffs and is fiercely protective of all of them.

Frequent Flyers - FIVE OPEN SPOTS || Eliza is an active member of McGonagall’s Army and hopes to become active in the Order after graduation. She’s got a mean right hook and a sharp tongue full of hexes and she puts herself in the line of fire quite often, but she focuses a lot of her energy on healing other people involved in the war. She’s been known to be rather rash so she sympathizes with her fellow MA members who have difficulty controlling their anger; she often swaps stories with them while she patches them up. This is open to Hogwarts students who are involved in McGonagall’s Army.

Enemies and Lovers - ONE SPOT OPEN || This is someone she knows damn well is trouble but still falls into bed with. It’s very much a “fight and fuck” relationship that is never acknowledged once the two of them get dressed. This is open to any Hogwarts student, regardless of gender, and would work best with a Death Eater or DE sympathizer.

Ex-Partner - TAKEN BY MADDISON || It was stupid, teenage puppy love that ended in flames once the fighting really began. They ended up on opposite sides, or in Eliza’s mind they did - your muse could be neutral or DE or whatever. There’s still a lot of angst and pain that goes along with this relationship. They fluctuate between not making eye contact with each other and screaming at each other. This is open to any Hogwarts student, regardless of gender, and would work best with a Death Eater or DE sympathizer.

Keep Your Enemies Closer - ONE SPOT OPEN || Eliza is too blunt to con someone, she’s more of a slash and burn type of gal; but others aren’t, especially those on the other side. This is someone on the side of the Death Eaters that is attempting to use her for information or are trying to trap her to be tortured by one of the leaders of the Death Eaters. Eliza is very outspoken and observant so this would have to be someone who isn’t obviously affiliated with the DE and therefore likely isn’t in the inner circle. This is open to any Hogwarts student and would work best with a Death Eater or DE sympathizer.

Mutually Assured Destruction - ONE SPOT OPEN || Eliza has 100% been attacked and tortured by someone involved with the Death Eaters before, most likely multiple times. She’s seen their faces and she’s more than willing to share that information with anyone who will listen to her, but perhaps they struck a deal. Eliza won’t say anything to anyone, provided her friends are protected from harm. It’s a risky deal and both of them know it won’t last, but it’s something to keep the peace for a while longer. This is open to any Hogwarts student and would work best with a Death Eater or DE sympathizer.

Tormentors - FOUR SPOTS OPEN || As the previous connection stated, Eliza is a target for the Death Eaters - she’s vocal about her hatred towards the group and has physically fought memebers before. These characters are the ones that are always at her throat, constantly looking for ways to fuck her up, and vice versa.

Parental Figures - TWO SPOTS OPEN || Eliza stopped going home for breaks around her fourth year and was essentially homeless until someone took her in. This character was either a Hogwarts Professor, a Diagon Alley employee who let her work for them, or one of her friend’s parents. She still works in Diagon Alley and/or Hogsmeade over breaks to make money so they could still work together or they might let her live with them when she has nowhere else to go.

#iidyintro #yall this is long af and i'm so sorry about that

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jjkfire · 7 years ago

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JIMIN FINALE

Jimin x Reader x Tae // College!AU // 25k words

Summary: Freshman year was a mess and sophomore year doesn’t seem to be looking too good either. You know boys like them are no good for you but maybe they’re just your kind of type

Genre: Fluff, Angst, | Warnings: Anxiety

A/N: hello i think i’ve written and rewritten the finale over a dozen times lol and idk what else to say other than i hope you like it! If you’re reading this after reading Tae’s, this finale starts to differ after the sentence ‘How can they be bad for you if they make you feel understood, make you feel at peace? ’

You’re long gone by the time Taehyung wakes up, already having made the trek back to your dorm for a quick shower prior to your 8 am class. The moment you woke up with his arms wrapped around you, you knew you had made a mistake. It was just once… a small mistake, you reason but you knew that you were only digging yourself deeper into a hole where you’d soon have to figure out your feelings for either of the boys, but right now your strategy is to pretend they aren’t there.

Friends. That’s all they are to you. Friends, friends, friends. You hope that if you repeated it enough times, your damn heart would finally listen to you. Though, that’s not usually the case is it? So, you get smart, you tell Taehyung that you’d much rather meet up at the library to complete the project, instead of meeting at his or yours because you’d get work done faster but really, it’s so he doesn’t have a chance to get you to cave. You invite Jimin and Hoseok too because that’s what friends do right? Study together? Of course, Hoseok never shows up because apparently the library has an odd smell he isn’t fond of, it’s the smell of stress and despair, he explains, and you can only laugh at that.

There’s tension in the air when the three of you sit at a table and you can clearly tell that Taehyung and Jimin are having some sort of a silent conversation between the both of them but you’d rather not ask and you’d rather not get involved because you had plenty on your plate already. There are times though when the three of you go out for dinner, Hoseok joining once or twice, where it suddenly feels like you’re transported back to your winter break, well, the beginning of it at least and everything seems fine, great even and this is what you want… For everything to be… normal. But of course, your heart didn’t know how to do normal.

The following Monday after you submit the project that your asshole professor so gladly assigned only a week prior to this, he announces that the project you had all just submitted would be the last partner project of the semester and you could almost hear a collective sigh ringing around the class, but— there was always a but, you frown —but, he continues, the weekly written assignments will go on until the end of the semester and they are to be done individually. There’s a mixture of groans and tiny hoots of delight but you’re not sure how you feel about it, probably something in the middle because on one hand, this is the excuse you are looking for, one that means you don’t have to spend all that time with Taehyung and on the other it means added stress since, truthfully, Taehyung had been carrying your ass for all the assignments.

Your workload for the semester begins to pick up and you try your best to stay on top of things, spending most of your free time in the library, a hidden one at the top of the astrology building where you know none of your friends will find you, simply choosing to study alone. Of course, you still make time for your close friends, all four of them and you like how things are now, completely… normal, but with time, you begin to slowly carve both Jimin and Taehyung out of your life, throwing yourself into activity after activity just so you had an excuse to avoid them. Taehyung especially takes cue to leave you alone for the time being when your response to his texts are nothing but lacklustre, a little too afraid to push you, to ask what’s wrong in order to avoid a repeat of the fight that happened freshman year. He can’t bare to lose you again and if giving you your space meant that the two of you would still stay friends, he would gladly give you that.

You know the boys are confused, obviously so by how you seem to keep them at an arm’s length, no longer responding to their flirty antics, no longer choosing to spend time with them if it did not involve eating in a public area. It’s a thought that bothers Jimin because everything had seemed to be fine, the night where the two of you had cuddled after the early library study session only a few weeks ago. But again, you’re just so confusing sometimes that he doesn’t bother trying to understand you. He simply leaves you be, waiting for you to reach out to him… except, you don’t.

He finds it unfair that he’s always the one having to make plans, always the first to text you. You don’t seem to be too interested in him, neither as a lover or even a friend and in all honesty, that hurts him. He’s not sure where you are most of the time because you’re neither in your room nor at your usual library spot and of course, that worries him. Any decent friend would be worried but he’s stuck thinking why should he be worrying about you when you obviously don’t have a care in the world for him? So, as much as it pains him, he stops asking where you are or if you’d like to grab dinner, hoping that maybe you’d be the one to ask him those questions but unsurprisingly, you don’t.

Alone.Being alone is something you quite enjoy, which many people find weird, but you think there’s some power with being comfortable with simply your own presence, not having to latch on to another person to be content. It’s liberating almost, to be free, to be able to have your lunches and dinners just on your own, having the time to just unwind and relax. People often mistake those who are alone as lonely, but you feel quite the contrary, in fact you feel as far from lonely as possible. It’s quite selfish but you like the idea of not having to worry about anyone else other than yourself and perhaps you needed it, this time alone to figure everything out and just focus on you. The whole debacle with Jimin and Taehyung, which actually is neither of their faults but solely yours and your confused heart’s, had completely drained you so perhaps you needed this, needed some time away. If anything, it’s been nothing but healing and maybe, finally getting to rekindle your friendship with Solji is just what you needed. She’s your silent saviour, the type of friend that ignores things when you want her to but is down to talk about it whenever you show her you’re ready to, and for that, you’re nothing but grateful. She’s the kind of person that doesn’t blame you for not replying to her texts because she takes equally as long and perhaps that’s what makes the two of you such good friends. Conversations with her are light, uplifting and it’s just what you need after a long day of classes. You think about how it’s nice to revert to this, to just you and her.

Yet, an emptiness seems to linger, one that makes you feel uncomfortable. The uneasy feeling is a reminder of how quiet life is now that you had pushed away almost everyone who cared for you. They deserve better, you sigh. The thought of reaching out to the two boys dances at the fringes of your thoughts but you brush them away for you fear that your indecisiveness only hurts them. Your finger hovers nervously over their numbers, wondering if it would be okay to call them out of the blue to tell them you missed them, but you simply shake your head at the thought, locking your phone before you place it on your window sill, shutting your eyes momentarily as you sink down into your bed for a short nap. Distractions, you sigh. They are nothing but distractions. You want to believe it, you really do and your head screams at you to do so but your heart tugs you another way because how can they be solely that when they bring you comfort? How can they be bad for you if they make you feel understood, make you feel at peace?

Your disappearing act is one that Jimin is far too familiar with and though he remembers telling himself that he should just not care about you, he can’t help but feel like he’s done something wrong for you to just drop him from your life like this. It’s been at least a month since the two of you spoke and he stares at his phone, the previous exchanges between you and him mostly him asking if you’re free and you replying with how you had a group project to work on or a club meeting to attend.

Let me know when you’re free?

Of course, is your reply.

But that’s the last thing you ever texted him and it’s been exactly 31 days since then. It’s hard for him to believe that you couldn’t even take a few hours out of any one of those days to just… talk to him.

It’s not like he has nothing to do most of the time, he himself has been pretty busy with both classes and rowing practice. Aside from that, there’s been parties aplenty this whole semester, seemingly nothing else for college students to do but study and party since the temperatures are too frigid for anything other than the two. He attends each one, hoping to see you there but you never show and most of the time he gravitates back to Taehyung and Hoseok, glad that at least your absence meant that it was just the 3 of them again, like old times. Yet, he feels like a small part of him is missing and he can see it on both Taehyung’s and Hoseok’s faces too. They’ve discussed you once or twice, Taehyung mentioning that he met up with you for lunch once and that he talks to you from time to time but usually only for class-related things because he had messed up, big time. At least she talks to you, Jimin scoffs and he had meant to ask what exactly Taehyung meant when he said he messed up but the thought is fleeting. The boys simply look at each other, letting out a series of sighs, everyone coming to the conclusion that you’re a complicated being and in a semester that’s so fast-paced, nobody really has the time to stop and figure you out but something tugs at Jimin’s heart, as if telling him that he should be the one to.

It’s unlike Jimin to be drunk, to drink this much especially since he wants to be up early tomorrow to practice on his rowing but for some reason, he misses you an awful lot today. It’s not how good you sound moaning his name, or how amazing you feel underneath him that he misses but rather it’s your embarrassed smile, that he misses, the one you always try to hide from him when he says something that makes your heart race. It’s the way you tell him the most awful jokes, ones that aren’t even funny, but he finds himself laughing along because your laugh, it turns around his entire day for the better. Most of all, he misses you, just you, because though you may not know it, your presence alone is able to silence the dark thoughts in his head, ones that tell him he’s a mediocre rower and an even worse student. The way your fingers rest on the curve of his waist, your soft voice just mindlessly murmuring quiet compliments, makes the noise around him disappear and even if it’s only for that moment, at least he gets some peace. He wants to believe that he’s simply making things up in his head, that he was fine before he knew you and that he didn’t need you, didn’t want you. He likes to think that maybe if he returns to his old ways, that if he just follows his three favourite rules, then everything would be fine again. Maybe if he had just followed his three rules in the first place, he wouldn’t be here, feeling like absolute shit.

He kisses two maybe three girls that night, but each time, he feels unmoved, tired even, as if going around and being promiscuous no longer gave him the same satisfaction that it used to. It’s not like the girls he meets are dull or bad kissers, they’re amazing, but they’re just not… you. So, he downs a myriad of liquors, hoping they’ll help him forget all about you but it only makes it worse, for every drunk thought he has is about you. You’re just a phone call away, he murmurs to himself and he wants to put himself out of his misery, to just ring you up and tell you how much he misses you but why should he? Why should he pour out his feelings to someone that never bothers to check in with him? Pathetic, he thinks. He’s still hung up on you while you’re away, living your life without thinking of him.

Sitting on the couch, he stares at his phone, aimlessly tapping in and out of a few apps. A short thought crosses his mind and he lets out a short laugh before he shakes his head because he shouldn’t, he tells himself he shouldn’t, and maybe it’s the alcohol that makes him do it or maybe it’s because rowing has been going nowhere but downhill for him or perhaps it’s because he just misses you, plain and simple. It’s more likely that it’s a combination of the three but either way he finds his hands moving against his mind’s command, his thumb swiping at your contact number to send you a message.

Nerd, he begins his text with his favourite term of endearment for you, smiling wistfully as he wrote it. He misses saying it out loud, misses the way you would scowl at him whenever he said it. Just tell me what I did wrong, he continues. The question seems hopeless, more like a cry than a query because he genuinely wonders what he did to you that made you up and leave his life with no explanation whatsoever. Each word of his text is typed out carefully, making sure that despite the fact that he’s drunk out of his mind at the moment, his text looks coherent, as if he’s coming from a confident stance, demanding an answer, instead of the truth where he’s just texting you from a broken couch of a frat house, the message more like a cry for forgiveness from a drunk, sad loser.

nerd, just tell me what I did wrong.

He sees the message staring at him and he lets out a snort because pathetic, it looks absolutely pathetic, sad even. The cursor at the end blinks at him continuously as if it was mocking him, telling him, surely he could write something less pitiable. He sighs, thumb reaching for the backspace because he’s better than this, worth more than some mere girl’s thoughts but he hears a sound, a whoosh!, indicating his message had been sent. Jimin stares at his phone, horrified, tapping at it incessantly as if it that would do anything to stop it. He’s hoping that it’s just some sad joke, that his phone would tell him the message had not been delivered but then he sees 3 dots appear after a minute or two on the bottom left of his screen, indicating that you’re typing and in a moment of panic, he simply holds the power button on his phone, watching as his screen fades to black.

His heart is pounding in his chest and though he likes to believe it’s because of the alcohol, he knows it isn’t because no, his heart doesn’t race like this, not even on competition day. This feeling only ever comes when you’re involved, your presence alone sometimes enough to make him feel like he had just run a marathon, maybe even two. Sometimes, he misses it because it makes him feel like he’s capable of love, capable of caring for someone for more than just a handful of days. It usually comes without warning, the feeling. It’s as if the entire contents of his chest is shaking because he’ll be so nervous at times like when he’s sat in the theatre next to you, wondering if he should reach for your hand or sometimes it happens when he wakes up for rowing practice with you wrapped around him, still fast asleep and he finds himself debating if he should kiss you on the forehead before he leaves, hoping that you don’t wake up if he chooses to.

His drunken trudge back to the dorm from the party in the thick of winter is tristful and blue, the chilly air doing nothing to make him feel better, only amplifying his emotions. As he finally reaches his room and lays in his bed, he imagines you in his arms, your body snuggling closer to his. It’s sad, tragic almost that it’s come to this, that he has to rely on his imagination for comfort, but what can he do? How could you, someone he had thought would make barely an imprint in his life, have him frowning in his bed every other day. How could it be that the first time he chooses to lay his heart on the line, opening up to someone other than Taehyung and Hoseok, has him feeling so messed up?

[01:22] Jimin: nerd, just tell me what I did wrong.

The message is so out of the blue that it takes you by surprise. You’re stuck staring at it for a few seconds because Jimin hasn’t attempted to talk to you for more than a month now. You miss him, a lot, too much in fact but he hadn’t talked to you in a while and you thought it was because he stopped caring, that he had proven you right and was still the same fuckboy he was a semester ago. It’s funny because you find you heart twitching at the message, as if you’re glad that he’s finally texted you, that this one sentence shows that he still cares, but his silence is mostly your fault. After all, you’re the one that has been brushing him off for weeks before his last text to you. You could’ve at any time picked up your phone to talk to him because a phone does in fact work both ways but you’re wrecked with absolute guilt, the words of his rowing team members haunting you till today.

Dreamcrusher.

It should be a word that makes you laugh because his teammates had worded it so childishly, but that word alone had made your heart sink down to the very pit of your stomach because if there’s one thing you never want to be, it’s a burden but you had become just that, you had become the sole cause of Jimin’s downfall. He never mentioned it to you, the way he was struggling with rowing, not even when you asked, which gave you all the more reason to believe that it was all your fault. He wanted to spare your feelings, you know that, but he shouldn’t, not at the expense of his athletic career or scholarship. You had spent the days after the revelation watching previous highlights of the men’s rowing friendlies, Jimin’s performance worse than usual, his strokes off, his posture horrible. His lack of sleep had been affecting his rowing, you guess but he didn’t have the heart to tell you. It’s a subject you weren’t quite sure how to bring up, so you did what you do best, which was to shut yourself off, make yourself unreachable. It worked perfectly fine, you reason because the last time you checked, Jimin had been performing a lot better now that he didn’t spend his nights chatting away with you, holding you, making sure he’d only nod off to sleep when he finds that you have too. You don’t know what compelled him to do that for you, to care for you as much as he did and it hurt you to walk away from that, but if you didn’t do it, you know he wouldn’t either because despite the fact that he’s a sleazebag sometimes, he’s too kind to you, in fact all of your friends are.

You stare down at your phone, letting out a deep exhale as you read his text again

Just tell me what I did wrong

You let out a soft whine because he hasn’t done anything wrong, it’s more so of what you did wrong but that’s a can of worms you’re not ready to open now, maybe even ever so, your reply is,

[01:23] You: ???

[01:23] You: nothing?

Because it’s the truth, he’s done nothing wrong.

You find yourself sulking as you sink in to your bed, noting that when you are sprawled out, you take up almost all the space but somehow your bed still feels empty. Jimin, you sigh. He had come into your life and turned it upside down. He had made you crawl out of the supposedly safe cocoon you had built for yourself, one where you kept your problems to yourself and maybe that scared you a little, no actually, the fact that there was someone who could actually make you feel safe enough to do that, absolutely terrified you. It’s perhaps why you keep trying to convince yourself that the radio silence between you and him is good, always trying to paint him in a bad light, telling yourself that yes, though you made the choice to cut him out of your life first, he’s probably more than happy about it, glad that he could be somewhere off making love to a random girl despite the way you and him are definitely more than just friends, or at least was. You know he likes you, or at least he did, you’re not that dumb, you know how to pick up a hint or two. You could see the way he would look at you softly, the same you did with him and there definitely was something there and maybe that’s what made you run. Being the reason for his under performance in rowing, that just meant that you could’ve cut the cuddle nights with him out of your life but instead you had decided to leave him entirely, not even trying to keep him around as a friend anymore. Why is that?

You think that you distanced yourself from him this much because he scares you, because he makes you feel so much all at once and yet is also a source of comfort for you. The idea of someone wanting to stay, wanting to be with you, makes you feel like jumping out of your skin because you’ve never had anyone who wanted to, or at least you’ve never let anyone close enough to make you think of that prospect. You’ve been nothing but unfair to him, never giving him the benefit of the doubt, never giving him a reason and most of all, never giving him the chance to explain himself. You always took things at face value and then twisted it so it would work against him, making it easier for you to point at him and say he’s a bad guy, a rotten egg, someone you shouldn’t give a chance to, but if you thought about it, he always wanted to clear things up for you yet you would never let him. Be it about Mina or his rowing, you always made decisions without hearing his side of the story and you often wonder if it’s too late now to ask.

When you check your phone in the morning, there is a tiny read receipt next to your message to Jimin and you wait, and wait, and wait throughout the whole day but a follow up message from him never comes. It’s not really his fault, the message you sent him isn’t even one he can actually reply to. Maybe he’s waiting for you to ask him questions, anything to show that you still want to be friends but you don’t because, again, you’re scared. It’s then that you find yourself nodding, admitting that it is a little too late to ask and that it always will be because you would never dare to ask.

[01:22] You: ???

[01:22] You: nothing?

Those are the messages Jimin wakes up to after finally deciding to switch on his phone, not that that was an easy task. He had rolled around in his bed for a good twenty minutes thinking of what exactly your message could contain but he came up empty because he genuinely does not know what he did wrong.

Jimin finds your reply hilarious because great, that’s exactly what he was thinking! That he had done nothing wrong! To say that your response is both confusing and underwhelming is an understatement because what the hell are those two messages supposed to mean? If he had done nothing wrong, then why are you avoiding him like this? He puts his phone away with a sigh, getting out of bed to wash up and put on his rowing uniform, hoping that his morning workout can help him clear his head. Chasing you is an utter and complete waste of time because it exhausts him to no extent and yet no matter how many times he tells himself that, his mind often drifts to the thought of you.

Though the text Jimin sent you made you fall off kilter for a bit, you simply brush it aside, choosing not to dwell on it and move forward. You were quite happy with yourself because so far, you’ve managed to stay on top of your shit for a ground-breaking record of 4 weeks, a whole entire month and really you were hoping that it would stretch out right through the end of the semester but of course, you fall behind on one of your homework assignments and then like a house of cards, everything just collapses. You’re left frantically trying to play catch up with your numerous classes, all your free time devoted to work, work and more work. You’re all over the place, your mind unable to focus in the statistics class you’re currently in because it’s too busy thinking of all the things you have to get done. The bell rings and along with the rest of the class you’re hastily packing your bag, wondering why you even bothered to attend lecture today when you knew you wouldn’t be able to pay attention at all.

“Y/N?” You hear someone call but it’s faint and it doesn’t register in your mind.

“Hey, uhh Y/N?” You hear someone say louder, this time with an accompanying tap on your shoulder.

“Yeah?” You turn around, your eyes going wide because wait… how does he know your name? You’re all too familiar with his because boy does he have a reputation on campus and not to mention that your eyes usually hovers over his picture a few seconds too long when you take the occasional glance through the special naked edition rowing calendar that Jimin had gifted you on your birthday.

“I’m… Jungkook,” He smiles and you laugh silently to yourself, wishing to say, I know, but you keep your lips sealed. “I’m on the rowing team with Jimin. You both live in the same dorm, right?”

“Yes...?” You answer with your eyebrows furrowed because his question catches you off guard.

“Great! Could you pass this to him for me?” He asks, handing you a notebook. “They’re my old notes for an ethnic studies class he’s taking.”

You hesitate for a second, your face contorting in displeasure.

“Can’t you just… give it to him at practice?”

“Ah, I’m not going today because I have something to attend to.”

You stand there just staring at him blankly because you don’t want to have to see Jimin. You haven’t had to in more than a month now and you’re not planning on starting now.

“Please?” He extends his hand, pushing the book towards you. “The exam is on Monday and he really needs it…”

There’s another beat of silence before you reluctantly extend your hand. “Sure,” You smile, awkwardly and Jungkook thanks you, before quickly running off to his next class.

As Jungkook fast walks to the lecture hall in the building across the street, he can’t help but think that the exchange with you had been so… uncomfortable, as if you for some reason, didn’t want to do it. Odd, he thought. Jimin had made it seem as if you and him were really close but then again… he hasn’t talked about you in a while. He really would deliver the notes to Jimin himself but Jimin had been asking for them since last week and if he didn’t get them by today at least, he’s sure that Jimin would flay his ass come next practice so when he spotted you in the class, which he didn’t even know you were in, it was like a miracle, a blessing and yet the whole encounter just left him feeling… off. But he doesn’t spend too much time dwelling on that because none of it is really his problem anyway.

12 am.

That’s the time that blinks on your phone’s home screen and you let out a sigh collapsing onto your bed after having spent more than 8 hours in the library, even studying through dinner. You’re pushing yourself too hard and you know that but its like you had a point to prove. Perhaps it was what Taehyung had said over lunch that one day that set you off down this path or maybe that’s just an excuse you’ve latched onto to justify just how badly you’ve sunken this time around. His words still ring around the depths of your mind, his soft, desperate warning of ‘maybe you should slow down’ clawing at your conscience. Sometimes it teeters on the side of maybe he just meant well and other times it sends you on a tailspin and you’re filled with anger. Either way, you tend to do what you do best, which is to close yourself off and try to bury yourself under all your pending assignments.

You were doing so good, you murmur, being able to keep your anxiety at bay for so long was almost unheard of to you but tonight, tonight is when your streak ends and it crushes you. It starts with the quick short breaths, feeling as if you’re like a fish out of water and then your hands, when you bring it up in front of your face, they begin to shake uncontrollably as if they had a mind of their own. You hear short knocks on your door and your phone ringing, but you just want it to all go away, you want it to be quiet, completely silent. Against your very wishes, tears fall from the corner of your eyes and you wrap the pillow around your head, wishing that for just one goddamn second your mind would stop working, that it would just let you breathe, relax, but of course that never happens. The knocks on your door grow louder and in a moment of your frustration you storm towards your door, wiping away your tears hastily before you pull it open.

“Oh, uh, hello.” He waves awkwardly. “Shit, were you busy?”

Your frown morphs into a face of surprise when you see the person who’s been rapping on your door. Park Jimin. His demeanour is reminiscent to when you found him standing at the very same spot on your birthday, looking all shy and scared and though you’ve seen him at your doorstep more than a dozen times, it’s so foreign seeing him here now because it almost feels like it’s been an eternity since you last saw him.

“Um, no…”

There’s just an awkward silence that lingers between the both of you as you two try to figure out what to say, a million different things waiting to be said. Jimin’s just staring at you, his eyes raking over you quickly and his mouth hangs slightly agape as if he’s not too sure if he should say what’s on his mind.

“So… is there something I can help you with?”

“Oh right,” Jimin scratches the back of his neck, like he always does when he’s nervous. “Jungkook told me he passed you his notes?”

Ah, right, that… You had completely forgotten about that. You nod, moving away from the door that he holds open, his feet hesitating as if unsure if he should step in. You rummage through your bag, looking for the notes and when you finally find the notebook, you quickly walk over to pass it to him, willing your hands to be steady as you hold it out in front of him.

Jimin can see it, see how your hands are shaking, see the rapid rise and fall of your chest. He doesn’t know how you think you can fool him when there’s dried up streaks of your tears running down your face, your eyes completely swollen and red. He can’t help but wonder if it is his place to ask. Do you even want him to ask? Your eyes look at him as if you’re imploring him to ignore it, to pretend everything is fine, to walk away, but he can’t… He can’t take that this is the first time he’s seen you in a month and you just happen to look so broken.

“Thanks,” He murmurs as he accepts the book from your hands, his gaze lingering, and he sees you licking your lips nervously as if you know that he knows.

“No problem.”

The conversation is so dry, so cold and it’s as if you and he are merely acquaintances that are meeting after decades of not seeing each other, just wanting the painful courteous conversation to end.

“Hey… uhh—” He hesitates at your doorstep and your hand stills at the doorknob. “—are you… are you okay?”

It’s a simple three-word question and you’ve answered many times with the standard answer of yeah, I’m fine and you give him the same exact answer, almost like it’s an automatic response except, tears begin to pool at the corner of your eyes. Jimin hesitates again at your door, one foot in your room and one out as if he doesn’t know what to do because is he overstepping a boundary here? Did you want to be left alone? He takes a chance, stepping into your room to close the door behind him and all he does is look at you, the familiar earnest expression he flashes at you when he knows you’re lying to him and you can only let your head hang low as you silently sob.

You feel useless, just hopeless because why couldn’t you function like a normal human being? Why couldn’t you go through a whole semester without being so… fragile, as if every little thing would set you off? Out of all the people you knew, you didn’t want to break down in front of Jimin, didn’t want to subconsciously guilt trip him into staying and consoling you. It had been a simple question, just a casual are you okay? but hearing it at that moment in time is all that is needed to trigger the cascade of emotions you’ve tried to hide away for far too long now.

Jimin doesn’t say anything to you, placing the book on your table before he steps up to you and holds you tight. You hate looking so weak, hate that he has to see you like this but right now, your brain is just fried and all you feel are emotions, too many of them washing over you like a wave so, you relent, letting his embrace envelop you. There’s only soft whispers, his familiar voice telling you it’s okay as you murmur words of apology again and again between your sobs. His hand smooths over your back, rubbing soothing circles as he sways you from side to side, hoping that at the very least this was helping in some way.

“Can you stay?” You ask him ever so softly, as if you’re afraid of what his answer will be. “I’m really sorry to do this to you but please, can you stay?”

You word the question as if you think his answer is going to be no, as if he had better things to be doing right now and it makes him frown.

“Sure,” he answers equally as soft before he grabs by the wrist gently to guide you over to your bed.

You know you’re being selfish, you know the very reason you stepped away from him is to avoid this because the fact that you used him like a crutch every time you veered off course was what caused him to perform poorly in rowing but… you want to be selfish, just this time, one last time, you promise yourself. You know you’ve said this before but, right now you just needed him, needed his warmth, his words, his presence because you’re not sure what to do with yourself… how to stop these thoughts that seem to swallow you up whole but Jimin, he always knew how to keep them at bay.

When the two of you settle in your bed, it’s a little awkward, neither of you knowing where to put your hands or feet but after some time, just like always, you somehow find the right spot, nestling yourself perfectly against Jimin. There’s a warmth that bubbles up in his chest when he feels your fingers curl around his waist, albeit a little too tightly but that’s the last thought on his mind. He’s missed this, by god has he missed this and he wishes that this was happening under different circumstances because he doesn’t like seeing you like this, so quiet and downtrodden. He wonders how long you’ve been keeping it in, just what toxic thoughts swirl in the depths of your mind and he wishes he could erase them all. The quiet thump of his heart that he hears in his ears mixes with the sounds of your soft sobs and he brings his hand to hold you closer, leaving soft kisses on the top of your head, hoping that it’ll calm the storm in your mind.

‘Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to tell a story?’

That’s Jimin’s classic line but he doesn’t say it tonight, he saves you the trouble and starts telling you a story in hopes of calming you down. Considering that he had spent numerous nights with you the previous semester, it’s a wonder how he still has stories to tell you. Although, you’ll admit that you’ve never even once managed to stay up to listen to any one of his stories, you always remember bits here and there, often drifting in and out of sleep, his voice almost like a lullaby to you.

His voice starts out a little quiet, almost as if he was a little apprehensive, not trusting himself to speak around you but slowly his voice returns to that calm pace, one that you’re familiar with. The tale is about how his five-year-old self had managed to get his head stuck in a metal railing. It’s an oddly hilarious story and you try to picture chubby toddler sized Jimin trying to use the brakes as he hurtled full speed towards a small set of stairs. His tiny body went flying forwards and he found his head which was relatively large for a kid his age he had informed you, stuck in a circular metal piece. It was embarrassing he admits, his mother having to call the fire department to cut the railing apart as his head had refuse to budge even after they had lathered him up with oil in an attempt to slip him out of the metallic death trap as he describes it. It’s something he’ll never forget, especially since no one has ever let him live it down, Taehyung and Hoseok always the first ones to bring up the story after a few too many drinks. Your soft laughs tinkles in his ears and he smiles, noting that the iron grip you had on his waist is now replaced with a gentle hold, your fingers tapping periodically as you snuggle against his chest.

“I guess that wasn’t a good story huh?”

“Hmm?” You hum in question looking up to him with your eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re usually asleep by now,” He laughs. “You never really stay up to listen to me.”

“I’ve always wanted to, but your voice… it’s just so calming,” You smile. “Anyway, I thought it’s about time I actually heard one of your stories from start to finish because… you always listen to all my ramblings, and my stories aren’t even half as interesting.”

They are, they’re just as interesting and Jimin, he doesn’t have too good of a memory, sometimes even forgetting what he had for lunch yesterday but he always tries to keep a few of your stories in mind. Sometimes, he’ll be talking with his parents and he finds himself telling them one of your stories. He hadn’t realize he had been doing that until his mother pointed it out which resulted in him sinking in his seat with blush tinted cheeks.

“Thank you,” You murmur. “I know you have a lot going on so, thank you for taking the time… to just… stay.”

“Of course.” Is Jimin’s answer but he has a frown on his face because he’s befuddled, absolutely confused by how you had worded your sentence and almost all of your other sentences tonight. Since when has this, him holding you, him being here for you become something that he wouldn’t do at a drop of a hat? He’d do it any time, any day but you say it as if you think he doesn’t want to be here, as if this is a chore to him. He doesn’t get to ask though because as he mulled over all of this in his brain, trying his hardest to construct a sentence that would properly convey his thoughts, you’ve drifted off to sleep, your signature murmurs filling up the silent room. Anyway, he’s not too sure if he would have had the courage to say the sentence that he had so carefully curated in his mind out loud.

The single bed in the dorms really aren’t made to hold more than one person and yet, with you next to him, it’s the most comfortable to him and it’s stupid, he knows that but your warmth, your touch, lulls him to sleep in a way that nothing else can. Your presence to him is comforting and if anything the best part is waking up to you still wrapped around him, often letting out a soft whine when he pulls away from you. It’s hilarious to him and dare he say, cute and perhaps he anticipates that moment this very Saturday morning because for the longest time, Saturdays have been coined the day where the two of you often sleep in considering that he doesn’t have to be at the boathouse by 5 am, but of course, you’re nowhere to be found. It almost feels like the whole of last night was simply a figment of his imagination but as he rises to grab Jungook’s notes of your table, he finds a note on the book written rather hastily.

Sorry about last night. I know you’re a busy guy so thanks for staying but if we could just pretend none of it happened, that would be great. Thank you again.

A disappointed sigh escapes his lips because he’s so tired of it. So tired of pretending that the two of you are or rather were nothing, so tired of you dodging questions that matter, so tired of you ghosting him all the damn time. He should be frustrated, he has every right to be but instead, he feels an overwhelming sense of worry for you because you have a horrible coping mechanism whenever you’re stressed and he wants you to see that but how can he when you shut him out in all ways possible? He thinks he isn’t really one to talk anyway because he does the very same with his rowing, bottling up all his emotions and struggles related to the sport. Just like you, he didn’t want people intruding in on that part of his life, rather have it closed up and walled away where no one can see so he could pretend like everything was alright. It's with that that he returns to his room, doing just what you had asked of him, pretending like none of it had happened.

Every time you have a breakdown, you remind yourself that you don’t have time for this, that you can’t afford being behind on any of your work so you pick yourself up, power through again, adding more and more on your plate so that by the end of the day you’re so drained that all you can do is drag yourself to your bed to get some sleep. You know this method never works in the long term but you’re stubborn and you refuse to seek help even when you know talking things out always makes it better because you didn’t want to do that, to have your friends carry your emotional burden too. Though the mental health services on campus is free and simply a phone call away, you always push the thought of calling them up away because you think calling them meant admitting that you’re struggling and as much as you knew you were, you didn’t want to acknowledge it because you’ve always been strong, you’ve never felt like this until college knocked you down. You just had half the semester to go and then everything would be alright again, you reason. You didn’t need help, you were fine all on your own. It’s a lie, one you tell yourself constantly, so much so that you’ve come to believe it.

Jimin doesn’t hear from you or about you for another month and it’s midway through April before he sees you, not in person no, but on social media, a single post by Solji congratulating you on being the featured student of your department for the semester. There’s a host of activities and organizations that she lists you’ve been a part of and Jimin shakes his head, wondering how you could keep up with so many things when he could barely juggle rowing and his studies without going completely insane. He’s proud of you, of course he is because he probably knows better than anyone how much work you’ve put in just so you could excel in college and here you are finally being rewarded for it. A true nerd, he laughs to himself. Perhaps you finally had it all figured out, perhaps he was wrong to worry because it seems like you’re fine after all.

He wants to send a congratulatory message, to say something but everything he thinks of sounds ridiculous or obnoxious, so he sets his phone away, thinking if he should go old school and just leave a note under your door because knowing you, you wouldn’t reply anyway and not having to see a read receipt next to a text seems like a good idea. It’s when he walks past the local florist, the same one he had stopped at when it was your birthday last year that he sees the perfect gift. It’s a small potted pincushion cactus and he laughs to himself reminiscing about the time when you had asked him what flower reminded him of you and he had answered with cactus which elicited an adorable scowl from you. He remembers you being mildly offended, even adding that you’re not much of flower person anyway.

You had taken Jimin’s answer as an insult but really, he said it because you were just like a cactus to him, strong and resilient, no matter the harsh conditions. You may stumble every once in a while but you would always seem to find your way in the end and he admired that about you, though that didn’t necessarily mean that he would approve of your coping mechanisms.

Honestly, everything about the plant screamed you, the spines of the plant reminiscent of how you were always so guarded but in actual fact it was all to protect the inside of the plant which was soft and vulnerable, just like you are once you let your walls come down. You embody subtle beauty just in the way cacti do, usually looking uncharacteristic when in comparison with its surrounding landscape but when you wanted to look good, boy did you know how to work a room, just like a cactus flower when it blossoms. Often, he thinks you’re quite unaware of your ability to do so, but he’s all too familiar with it. Cacti, they only bloom in the spring, sometimes for only a day or sometimes they don’t bloom at all for years. That’s another quality both you and cacti share, he snorts, unpredictable in every sense.

Jimin admits he’s horrible at analogies and his thoughts often don’t make sense but ask him again and his answer would still be cacti because as he gazes at the tiny potted plant that he has set down at the cash register, he can only think about how cute it is and that you are too.

With the tiny plant in hand, he makes his way back to the dorm, planning to leave it at your doorstep, no note, no nothing because it didn’t need one. He hoped the plant would be a message that only you would understand, that you would know that he was thinking of you but a few steps into the courtyard of the dorm and he couldn’t believe his luck, his head perking up at the sound of your laughter but what he sees doesn’t make him smile, no in fact it does quite the opposite, it makes his heart drop to the floor.

You’re standing there in front of him, next to Taehyung and of course the sight of both of you usually puts a smile on his face but this time he has to force one on.

“Jimin!” Taehyung smiles. “Guess who won nerd of the year?”

You laugh rolling your eyes at him before you turn to Jimin to give him a curt smile.

“Yeah, I saw that on Facebook,” He laughs awkwardly. “Congrats nerd.”

You smile back adding a thanks, shaking your head at his stupid nickname for you that seems to roll of his tongue just as easily despite the fact that you haven’t heard him say it in a while now.

“A cactus?” Taehyung asks, noticing the plant in Jimin’s hand. “Planning to add some green to your room?”

He should have just said yes, he really should have just to avoid any further questions but his eyes shift towards you and his answer slips out of his mouth without him thinking.

“It’s for someone actually.”

“Who’s the lucky person?” You snort, laughing. It’s a cute gift you have to admit.

You, you’re the lucky person.

Is what he should’ve said but the reason he can’t seem to is the very same reason why his heart dropped when he looked up to find you standing next to Taehyung. It’s the fact that the gift he has for you in his hand doesn’t hold a candle to the one in yours. The large bouquet of roses you have in your arms is grand, beautiful and absolutely fitting for you while his was simply quite the opposite. As he peers down at his tiny potted plant he can’t help but think that he’s an absolute idiot. You look simply stunning with the bundle of roses in your arms, radiant and elegant. So, maybe Jimin had gotten it all wrong. Perhaps you are into flowers after all and perhaps roses are your favourite. After all, Taehyung did know you better. In any case, whether you like flowers or not, you deserved a bouquet like that, not the tiny succulent in his hand. What was he thinking, getting you a stupid cactus? Damn it, he should’ve known Tae was going to go all out but at the time he swears the cactus seemed like a good idea.

“Well… They’re uhh for um… someone.” Is Jimin’s inconclusive answer.

“Dude, is it for the girl from last weekend? Hoseok told me about…” He trails off, noticing the awkward cough that escapes his friend.

Jimin cringes upon hearing that sentence because he doesn’t want you to know that’s what he’s been doing with his weekends. Why? He’s not so sure because it’s not like you really care, as evident by the lack of emotion on your face.

“Y-yeah, her…” Jimin lies, because it’s easy and he doesn’t have to rack his brain for a separate answer. “Anyway, I’ve got to go... Congratulations, again,” He smiles in your direction before he takes off in the exact direction he came from, missing the way you mumble thank you stupidly, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

The tiny cactus finally takes residence on the window sill of Jimin’s room after he had spent two hours at the library doing absolutely nothing but sulk and he sighs, gazing at it as if it were you he was looking at. It’s been months since he had a decent conversation with you and he misses you, even if you push him away. He wonders why Taehyung still gets the friend treatment while he gets the cold shoulder. What was Tae doing right?

Jimin has found himself in front of your door numerous times, bending down just to see if your lights are still on because this torture, this silence, he just wants it to end. Yet, his knuckle always hovers above your door before it retreats to his side and he finds his feet taking him back to his room.

He’s not so sure why he doesn’t just corner you and get you to answer him and perhaps it’s because he’s afraid of the answer you’ll give him. Not that he has any inkling of what that may be because he’s at a complete loss, can’t even begin to take a gander at it. The only thing he can come up with is that you’ve simply lost interest in him and that thought alone breaks his heart because maybe if you’d give him a chance he could win you back, somehow. It sounds pathetic, desperate but he considers you to be more than a fling, or a friend and he’s let you in on so many things that he’s never said out loud. He treasures that, treasures you because as stupid as it sounds, he’s his happiest when he’s with you, his mind quiet and content, his body relaxed and warm. Your horrible jokes and earnest thoughts always draws his mind away from the pressure that comes with rowing and it’s funny because you do it without even knowing that you put him at ease. To him his relationship with you has always been give and take, even if you don’t know that your presence does the same for him as his does for you. So, when he plays back that night from a few weeks ago in his head, he can’t help but feel like you made it seems as if being with you is a chore, when it is far from it. He wants to be there because he cares, because you are his source of comfort and if he could be that for you too, then he’s more than happy to be. It’s funny because he can say all of this right now when he’s alone but when you’re in the room with him and there’s a lull of silence, it’s like his mind betrays him and suddenly words don’t exist, his brain scrambling to put things together but they’re never eloquent enough to be said out loud.

There’s so many things between the both of you that have been left unsaid and Jimin wonders if he could just get himself to say them, that everything would just go back to what it was, that you’d once again be there just for him to even smile at at the very least. He’s not asking for much, just friendship will suffice, even if his heart yearns for more, but with you, he’ll take things a small step at a time. Of course, these are all just ifs and buts and he knows they’ll never amount to anything if he just sits here on his bed and sulk, but he doesn’t know where to start, what to do and you had made it vaguely clear that you didn’t want anything to do with him. So, with that, he changes into his sports gear, hoping that a heavy indoor rowing session will take his mind off you but neither the loud music pumping in the boathouse nor the roaring of his pulse in his ear as he rows past the required benchmark, is able to silence the thoughts he has about you. Even when you’re barely in his life, you seem to take up most of it, he scoffs.

Receiving the award is both a blessing and a curse because on one hand it validates all the work you’ve put in and on the other, you feel like you have to keep up and continue to outdo yourself or else everything is going to fall to pieces. You know you’re only one missed assignment away from a breakdown, it always seems like you are but you didn’t know how to stop, how to take a break because usually, once you do, you fall into a pit of hideous thoughts and you’re not quite sure if you’ll be able to climb out of it alone. So, like the idiot that you are, you turn to alcohol to drown out the thoughts that are trying to force you to face your reality and instead hope that the copious amount of liquor you ingest will numb your brain.

You step into the frat party that Hoseok had invited you to with a sense of vigour, almost as if you were determined to drown yourself in shots and with that large smile on your face, neither Hoseok nor Solji can tell that you have that certain secret agenda. They had taken your enthusiasm as a sign of you finally letting loose, which they both wanted you to do. Once the drinking games start, it’s the sign of your demise because you’re horrible at them and you end up drinking more than you had intended. In your drunken haze, you have half the mind to ask where Jimin and Taehyung are because neither of them had shown up and even if they planned on being fashionably late, the hour hand is hovering past 1 which honestly meant you should be heading home soon. Hoseok simply lifts his shoulder, flashing you a classic grin before flopping down on the couch, his eyes barely able to stay open as he goes on to whine about how much he misses his significant other, as he has done every single time you’ve met up with him, drunk or sober. After 30 minutes or so of just lazing on the couch, bobbing along to the music, waiting for the effects of the alcohol to subside to a level where you could at least stand up, you finally decide to head home.

Though it’s almost spring, it’s still a little cold out but you decide to walk home anyway, deciding that a light stroll would probably help you sober up some more anyway. Your mind is still a haze and you’re basically on autopilot as you hum to yourself, dragging your feet across the cement pavement. It’s where the pavement meets dirt that you come to a stop, pondering if taking a walk to the point on campus that brings you peace, a small patch of forest that extends into the lake like a peninsula is good idea or simply retreating to the comfort of your pigeon-hole sized room is a better one. Though the clear night sky and the bright stars seem to call out to you, you turn on your heel and continue towards the pavement, digging your hands into your pocket for your keys.

As luck would have it, you stand in front of your room, turning all your pockets inside out only to find that your key isn’t with you. You stand there cursing, letting your head rest on the door with a thud as you mumble insults under your breath. Sometimes you wonder why you don’t have your key permanently strapped to your body considering how many times you’ve forgotten it and just how many times you’ve paid the penalty to the front office whenever you ask for a loaner key. It’s students like you that prompted the change to auto-lock doors, you scoff, the university exploiting your forgetfulness until they milk you dry of every penny.

You stumble into the common room opposite your room and sink onto the couch, not willing to get your RA to open your door for you now that it was almost 2 in the morning. You toss and turn, your feet hanging off the armrest, your body itching at the thought of how these seats probably haven’t been cleaned for years. After fussing around for a few more minutes, you sit up completely, finding the 100 year old couch too uncomfortable, your head throbbing at the sudden movement. You’re seeing in double vision maybe even quadruple vision if that’s a possibility and with a huff, you swing your body around, planting your feet on the ground as you cradle your own head in your hands, pondering your next move.

It’s a bad idea, a horrible idea, you know it and yet, your feet move by its own volition. You don’t even have time to tell yourself to stop, to turn around because before you know it you’re already at the top of the stairs, turning right to find Jimin’s room. You hesitate at the front of his door, your mind screaming at you to walk away but you know, you’re not really yourself after you’ve had a few shots of tequila and it’s with that liquid courage that you knock on his door. It’s a soft knock at first but then it grows in volume as you become desperate, afraid that someone would find you like the loser that you are at the moment, looking dishevelled, tired and definitely drunk.

Jimin is curled up on his side under his blanket, silently battling with his thoughts when he hears an incessant sound of someone knocking on his door. He grabs his phone from the window sill to see that it is 2 in the freaking am. He grumbles lowly dragging himself out of bed to trudge towards his door. He pulls it open with an obvious frown on his face because who the fuck would knock on his door at this ungodly hour of the night?

"Jimin!"

Oh, you.

"Jim— Hi," You smile when you're greeted by a shirtless Jimin, squinting as his eyes adjusts to the harsh lights from the hallway.

"It's 2 am, nerd," He groans. "What do you want?" He wants his voice to sound gruff, disinterested but seeing you at his doorstep already has his heart palpitating.

"You," You hiccup, a light laugh tumbling out of your lips and Jimin sighs because from the way you're using the doorframe to support your weight, it's obvious that you've gone way past your drinking limit.

He only stares at you, unsure of what to say because did you really mean that or was the alcohol coursing through your system making you say things you'll regret in the morning?

"I can't find my keys so can I stay here tonight?" You ask as you push yourself off his doorframe, trying your best to stay standing on your own two feet. You look down towards your feet nervously, noting the awkward silence that seems to hang between the both of you

Ah, he sighs to himself. Of course you’re only here because you needed something. He’s not sure why he thought you’d be here for any other reason.

Jimin doesn't answer, he simply drags you into his room by softly tugging your wrist and you stumble forward, shuffling behind him.

Flipping on the light switch, he grabs a shirt and shorts for you to change into, passing them to you without uttering a word. You gladly accept them, changing into the clothes as Jimin makes himself comfortable in his bed again, his hands sweaty, his heart hammering against his chest despite the stoic face he puts on. When you're done, you switch off the lights and make your way to the bed in a zig zag pattern and Jimin only laughs when you finally find your way to him.

You scowl at him as you climb into the bed, sinking down next to him. He feels you impossibly close to him, the familiar feeling of warmth beginning to stir in his chest. He hasn't really done this with you in a while so he's not really sure if you meant you just needed a bed to sleep in or if you wanted to cuddle with him while you were at it. In fact, if he thought about it, this was the first time you’re in his room and he curses himself for not cleaning up yesterday. To be fair he wasn’t expecting you or anyone at all and right now he doesn’t really know what to do with himself because like always you seem to render him stupid. As he debates with himself wondering what he should do, he feels your arm wrap around his torso, your soft fingers finding it's home at his waist as if the past few months hadn’t happened. Jimin stills, holding his breath before he lets out a sigh, melting into your touch, his body reacting before his mind and slowly, he lets his arm slip under your body, his fingers too curling around the curve of your waist.

"Since when do you sleep shirtless?" You ask with your head placed on his chest. He hopes you can’t hear his heartbeat like he can hear it in his ears.

"Since always."

"Then why do you always have your shirt on when you sleep in my room?" You question, tilting your head slightly to look at him. Jimin's not sure but your tone seemed to have a tinge of disappointment to it and it makes him chuckle.

"Well if you want, I'd gladly go shirtless next time," He smirks. "While we're at it, how about no clothes at all?"

"I mean I don’t mind that at all," You shrug, trying your best to sound confident but he feels you bury your face in his chest to hide a shy smile and the thought of you blushing is enough to make him smile too.

"Why didn't you show up at the party?" You ask in an attempt to switch the focus of the conversation. "I was… waiting for you... and uh you know… everyone was."

"I have a race tomorrow, nerd."

"When has that ever stopped you?" You laugh.

"How irresponsible do you think I am?" He laughs in return. "It's a big race. Against our long-time rivals."

"Ah right, the Lions," You murmur. "You've been training non-stop for this... You have to beat them."

"Oh, do I?" He questions, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You have no idea how many times I've been told the very same line this past month."

"But I mean you have to Jimin. I hate them with every single fibre of my being," You groan. "The last time they were down here for the football game, they trashed our bars and this one guy smacked my ass so hard I swear his handprint was imprinted on my ass the next morning. Fucking asshole."

"Huh, I want to try that," He smirks as his hand leaves your waist to teasingly ghost down towards your butt and you grumble at him while you guide his hand back to your waist.

Jimin laughs, playfully squeezing your side as he did so and he watches on as you scowl at him. Cute. Just the reaction he was hoping to get out of you. He just loved the way you would furrow your eyebrows and scrunch your nose at him.

"So, you have to beat them alright? I know you will," You yawn, your hand leaving his waist momentarily to rub at your eyes.

"Alright, I'll try... We'll try," He sighs, pursing his lips. He has no heart to tell you that his form has been struggling and that in his opinion, the very fact that he was still on the team was a blessing.

Jimin is still sifting through his thoughts, going through his technique, thinking of his form and position when he feels some sort of pressure on his lips, which he soon identifies as your lips pressing against his. Without thinking, he quickly responds, moving his lips with as much fervour as yours because your chapped lips feel like home and warmth blossoms across his chest as your thumb grazes his cheek. He's a little too late though because you're pulling away before he has much of a chance to savour the moment. He chases your lips desperately, but you're already placing your head back onto his chest and he frowns at his missed chance.

He lets out a soft whine, upset that he had missed the very moment he had been craving for weeks, perhaps even months now. Jimin was confused of course, unsure as to what that kiss really meant and as if you had read his mind, you suddenly speak up.

"That was for good luck," You smile. "Not that you need any... I just needed an excuse to kiss you," You laugh.

An excuse? You didn't need one. You could kiss him 15, 20 times without any reason and he would've gladly reciprocated each time.

"An excuse?" He asks aloud, and he almost screams at himself for doing that, for ruining the moment.

"An excuse," You nod sleepily before you yawn, your eyelids growing heavy.

At this point, his head is spinning. Half of his mind begs him to keep quiet while the other half is screaming at him to just go ahead and ask you. He's so afraid that he wasn't going to like the answer you were going to give and he'd rather pretend the answer he had in his head was the one you were going to give.

But he can't resist. He just needed to know once and for all.

"And what's the real reason then?"

You let out a long hum and you must not have any idea how torturous it feels to Jimin.

"I miss you," Is all you whisper. "I miss you," You repeat but this time at full volume and you let out a long sweet sigh, as if those 3 words had just liberated you.

So, you kissed him because you missed him? Then why did it always feel like you were trying your best to stay as far away as possible from him? He had way too many questions for you but his heart was singing at the way you had said those three words with so much sincerity. It wasn't exactly what he thought you were going to say but it was good enough, enough to make him feel like a warm mess inside.

"I miss you too," He whispers as he presses a soft kiss onto the top of your head. You smile at that, nuzzling your head into his chest, your hand tugging him closer towards you and he holds you tighter, a wide smile on his face.

God, if only you knew just how much he misses you. You always had this ability to silence his thoughts with words that you seem to utter so effortlessly. It was as if you had a handbook that told you just what to say to calm the storm that was going on in his mind.

Before you knocked on his door, he had been tossing around in his bed, giving himself a mental pep talk for tomorrow because his nerves were quite literally of the charts and he didn't need that affecting his performance. Then, you came in, nonchalantly taking your place next to him and saying things like:

'So, you have to beat them alright? I know you will.'

'That was for good luck... not that you need any.'

You had said those sentences without any visible doubt, as if you had already decided he was going to win, as if you truly believed that he had what it took to live up to his team's expectation. Perhaps you were saying all of that just for the sake of it and maybe to anyone else, those words sound like a rehearsed spiel but honestly it was all he needed to hear to calm his nerves, even if it was just momentarily. Then again, you could've meant nothing by those words, that it could've just been the alcohol that was doing the talking but in any case, that would've made you the first person to actually have confidence in him and god only knows how much he needed to know that he had at least one person standing in his corner.

His palms stroke your waist soothingly, his mind and heart finally calm at the feeling of you laying atop of him. Everything was so familiar, from where you hand rested, to how your knee was placed just below his hip. It felt right, it felt like everything was where it was supposed to be. He shuts his eyes, a smile still apparent on his lips as he falls asleep to the sound of your quiet breathing and occasional murmurs because oh, how he has missed this.

The familiar sound of quacking ducks ring around the room and panic begins to rise in Jimin's chest. This was it, it was officially game day. He pulls away from you, trying his best to quietly peel your limbs away from him but the moment he reaches to lift your arm, you clutch onto him, your knee pinning him down onto the bed. Jimin laughs at you, softly pleading for you to let him leave but you simply shake your head from side to side as you tighten your iron clad grip on him.

"5 more minutes," You murmur and Jimin shakes his head at you. Damn, how he wished he could stay. If it was up to him he'd stay with you for hours under these sheets if that was what you wanted.

"I have a race to get to, nerd," He mumbles and reluctantly, you finally release him from your hold, a soft whine escaping you as you watch him climb over you to get off the bed.

Jimin is a literal ball of walking nerves as he rummages around the room for his gear and other essentials. He's talking to himself, quietly chanting the same sentences repeatedly and even worse than that, he's genuinely shaking. You can see how his hands struggle to put everything in his duffle bag.

He lets out a sigh as he puts his final piece of clothing into his bag, zipping it. Finally, he moves towards his bed to collect his phone from the window sill, offering you a short, soft smile, one that in your opinion screamed: help me please.

Poor, poor boy. He looked like he was going to break down the moment he stepped out of his room. You grab his free hand, your thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the back of his hand and he jerks under your touch but he soon relaxes, offering your hand a small squeeze.

"You've been training day and night for months now and you're going to do great, don't worry," You smile and you feel Jimin completely still, his eyes wide as he takes in your words. "I know you feel like you're going to empty out your stomach at any given moment, but you've worked so, so, hard... so, just calm down, alright? You've got this, doucheface," You laugh as you squeeze his hand, hoping that he heard the sincerity in your words.

"I really liked the speech up till you called me doucheface," He frowns.

"How about asshat?" You try. "No? Maybe dickbag?"

He scowls, squeezing your hand with a much tighter grip as you try to stop laughing.

"You've got this, Jimin," You correct, and he nods approvingly, swinging your hand around with his.

"Thank you," He whispers, and he hopes you can hear just how much he means that. You only nod as you used your other hand to pat his hand lovingly. In that moment, he makes up his mind. After this race today, he was going to finally tell you that he goddamn liked you. It didn't matter that the thought of doing so made him feel just as nervous as he was a few moments ago but he'll be damned if he went on for another week without letting you know how he felt about you because keeping it in is torturous to him. Pretending that your absence doesn’t affect him breaks him in ways you can’t possibly understand.

"Thank you," He repeats again but this time he leans down for a kiss on your forehead. Was it a little too much? Maybe... but considering he was actually thinking of going for your lips, this was a modest alternative.

You let out a short hum, as if to say it isn't too big of a deal, which it isn't... Jimin had spent many nights trying to calm you down and this was only you telling him the truth in hopes that it would calm his nerves all the same.

"Go get 'em!" You shout but he stays unmoving, his eyes staring back at you softly. "Go! You're gonna be late," You chuckle, giving him a light kick on his thigh as a form of encouragement.

He scowls at you before waving you goodbye shyly and you wave back, slowly curling up under his sheets just as soon as he shuts the door. With the blanket pulled up over your head, you blush while you relish the way the feeling of his lips lingers on your forehead, a stupid smile on your face as you bury your head deeper into his pillow.

Ding!

Your phone vibrates, and you pull down the blanket to reach for it, swiping at your screen sleepily.

[01:22] Jimin: thsblk you

[01:22] Jimin: *thank you

[01:22] Jimin: sry im just so nervous I can barely type properly

[01:22] Jimin: but really just thank you… again

You smile at that, shaking your head. You could just picture it, him nibbling on his lips as he types out his texts, still a nervous wreck.

[01:22] You: hahaha np

[01:22] You: just relax. you’re gonna do fine

[01:22] You: you’re gonna win! I know it!

You laze around in his bed for a few more minutes, your fingers playing with his sheets as thoughts toil around in your mind. You know this race is a big deal for Jimin, the first competition of the year that matters, one that will decide if he will get a spot in the varsity boat and it’s probably why he’s so incredibly nervous.

With Jimin’s status of rowing extraordinaire, one would expect the bank of the lake to be lined up with people but the audience for his races are usually quite empty, the event only watched by a handful of people, usually parents of said rowers because who the hell is up at 5 in the morning on a Saturday morning?

Jimin often keeps his rowing race schedule a secret because he has this crippling fear that everyone would come to see him only for him to cause the team to lose the race and so he downplays his races, often saying that they’re postponed or something of the like to discourage any of his friends from coming. After some time, you catch on, especially because when you ask him with both Taehyung and Hoseok there, they send you death stares, signalling for you to avoid the topic.

This time though, you think it would be nice if you showed up, even if maybe he doesn’t want you there but he didn’t explicitly say don’t come… so you decide it’s fine. You’re not too sure how rowing races work but you sure hope it allows you some time for a shower because you look like a mess and you think showing up to a race with smeared make-up all over your face would only make his teammates hate you even more than they already do.

6.30 am

That’s when the race finally begins and you realize that you’ve come to the race severely underprepared because one, you didn’t know it would be this cold and you’re left shivering in your thin coat as you stand awkwardly by the lakeside. Two, everyone seems to have a foldable chair out, along with some binoculars in their hands and you have neither. Three, your stomach grumbles at the sight of burgers and hotdogs sizzling on the grill and even if it’s 6.30 in the morning, you wouldn’t mind chowing down some of those but you don’t know anyone and you have absolutely zero social skills to start up a conversation with someone more than twice your age. Anyway, before you can get acquainted with any of the 60-year olds around you, you hear a loud horn, signalling the start of the race. You’re not quite sure what you’re looking for, not sure where the race ends but you follow the boat with the boys all dressed in blue, your school’s colour. There’s obvious excitement in the air and you find the whole scene rather cute, for you’re surrounded by old people shouting their children’s names and for some reason it makes your heart melt.

Seeing the two boats row side by side in competition, in person, is rather odd since you usually watch some of the races online. The boats glide across the water, moving furiously fast as you hear faint shouting from the coxswain, his screams encouraging his teammates, drowning out their thoughts of giving up. From the start, Jimin’s boat has a slight lead but then it drops behind for a few 100 metres and your heart sinks too but in a few minutes or so, it’s back in the lead again, only for this to repeat in a loop, over and over again. You decide rowing is a much too stressful sport to be watching when you have a splitting headache and an empty stomach, but you keep your eyes trained on the boat holding your school’s team, on the boat that holds Jimin.

As the boat drifts further and further from your view, you watch as those around you pull out their binoculars and you can only stand around, squinting to see who’s ahead. Judging by how it’s deathly quiet aside from the occasional come on!, you’re guessing that the lead the boys previously had is growing shorter. Standing on your tiptoes, you strain your head forward, looking as far as your eyes can reach but it’s no use, you don’t even know where the finish line is because usually on the videos you see it’s a bird’s eye view and a neat yellow digital line going down the middle of your screen to demarcate the end. Ah, technology, you sigh. In any case, you’re not left wondering for long because there’s a burst of cheers from one side where the majority sits and you turn around to see the parents all dressed in blue celebrating and you can only smile before you look out onto the lake to see the boats bobbing in the water in the far distance.

It takes some time before the boats return to the front of the boathouse where the race began and you’ll be honest your feet feel like they’re about to give way because you’ve been standing in the cold for far too long now but it must not feel like anything in comparison to the boys stepping out of their boat. You watch as one by one, the boys are greeted by their parents who had made the journey for the game while Jimin stands off to the side receiving congratulatory pats from his coach. You stay rooted in your spot, not really sure how to greet him or if you should make your presence known at all. You’re shuffling your feet awkwardly waiting for his exchange with his coach to end and when you see him drift off to the table where some of the leftover food is laid out, you quickly make your way over, trying to avoid being seen by any of his teammates.

“See, told you you’d win.” You had meant for it to sound enthusiastic, but it comes out as more of a quiet murmur instead.

Jimin’s head perks up at the sound of your voice, quickly swallowing the food that he has in his mouth when he sees you standing in front of him.

“Nerd... Y-you watched the race?”

“I mean I tried… I watched half of it but then I didn’t have binoculars so…”

He snorts at that, laughing before he smiles at you.

“I can’t believe you’re here. I know you hate being up before 7 so, thank you,” He grins gratefully, and you smile in return, giving him a small shrug before you take a nervous glance to your side, noting the stares from his teammates.

“Honestly, I’m really only here for the free food… Is this why you never told us when your races are? You’re afraid Tae, Hoseok and I would clear this table in seconds?”

Jimin shakes his head at you, taking a bite out of his burger before he sees you take another quick glance to where his teammates are standing. Why do you keep doing that?

“Well, I mean… tell me honestly what else am I supposed to think when you have three burgers in your hand?”

“To be fair, I’m incredibly hungover and very hungry so, you can’t blame me.”

You unwrap a burger, biting down into it and Jimin notices you taking yet another glance to your right. You grow quiet, nodding as Jimin talked, only saying a few words in reply between eating and he wonders what happened, why you’ve suddenly shut off on him like that. He means to ask you what’s wrong, but he hears someone call out to him, his teammates walking over to tell him it was time for pictures and he nods. He turns back to you to tell you to stay for a few minutes but he can only laugh as he watches you wolf down the remainder of your burger quickly before you make your way to his side.

“Hey, um congratulations on winning,” You smile after you swallow the remainder of what’s in your mouth. You lick the corner of your lips, shifting your weight between your two feet and Jimin can tell instantly that something was definitely off, his smile slowly beginning to fade. Your eyes constantly shift towards his teammates and you rub your palms together nervously like you’re afraid of something, but he can’t pinpoint what exactly it is. “I have to uhh… go but we’ll talk soon yeah? Congratulations, again!” You grin as you hug him and before he can answer you, before his arms can even reach around you, you’re scampering away back to the dorms.

Jimin stands there, utterly confused because it had just been a matter of seconds and you had went from your normal snarky self to the equivalent of a docile dog, cowering with your tail tucked between your feet.

“That was Y/N, right?” Jungkook asks, reaching for a hot dog, breaking Jimin’s train of thoughts.

“Uhh, yeah.”

“Huh, thought you guys weren’t that close anymore,” Jungkook mumbles, recalling just how you hadn’t wanted to do that favour for him.

“I mean… we—” Jimin fumbles with his sentence because wait, how did he know that? For the most part he hasn’t been really vocal with anyone at all about what’s been going on between you and him. “What do you mean?” He questions.

“I don’t know… you haven’t talked about her in a while and that time when I passed my notes to her, she asked me why I couldn’t do it… almost as if she didn’t want to do it.”

“I mean I don’t know, she’s just like that sometimes… but yeah she and I, we’re good, we’re fine,” Jimin replies and he doesn’t know who he’s trying to lie to, himself or Jungkook?

After the photo session and a subsequent congratulatory team speech back in the locker room of the boathouse, Jimin sprints to your room, only to find that you’re not there. He’s not surprised really because he hadn’t expected you to be there in the first place. He sighs, shaking his head before he trudges back up to his room.

Jimin’s an absolute fool when it comes to you and he doesn’t know why he always keeps trying when you do this to him time and time again. You pretend like everything’s great, smile at him, talk to him, and then ghost him whenever he tries to reach out to you. You send him round and round on some wild goose chase, trying to figure out where you and him stand and the answer is never conclusive. At this point, he’s basically given up because there’s nothing more he can do from his side and if you’re so adamant on keeping him away, then maybe he should just do that, just stay away.

It’s when he decides to do that, stop trying to talk to you or see you that he finds you at the frat house of all places. He catches your gaze briefly, not intentionally but he watches on as you send him a polite smile before sending a small nod of acknowledgment. Somewhere in the recedes of his mind, he feels himself beginning to formulate thoughts like maybe it’s a sign… for him to go and talk to you but just a glance at his phone, at the numerous texts he’s sent you that’s gone unanswered is enough to tell him that he should stay rooted in his spot because no, you’re simply not interested in him anymore.

You didn’t want to be at this party, you had absolutely no intention of being in a frathouse on this Friday night but Solji the cunning fox bamboozled you into coming here. Movie night with Hoseok, she had claimed and like an idiot, you believed her. You should’ve known, you sigh, so here you are, wandering the noisy hallways on your own, having seemingly lost both Hoseok and Solji amongst the many strangers waddling in and out of the living room.

You try your best to avoid any of the open areas, not wanting to have Jimin spot you again so, you slip into the kitchen to pour yourself a drink before settling by the countertop bar just outside the kitchen area, sighing heavily as you set your drink down.

“Same,” The guy in front of you laughs noting your sigh, mirroring your feelings about the frat party. “I’m guessing you were forced into coming here too?”

“Yeah,” You laugh.

“I’m Jae by the way,” He smiles. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” You smile in return.

Jae tries to make conversation with you, asking who you knew in the frat, what your major was and you find this all to be futile because it’s so noisy that the both of you aren’t really speaking, it’s more like the both of you are just shouting so that both you and him can hear each other. You engage in the mindless conversation anyway because one, you’ve given up on looking for your friends and two, you’re avoiding Jimin.

As the conversation progresses, you step closer to him, leaning in just to hear him and though the conversation is boring, at least he isn’t creepy, you shrug mentally. You’re midway through answering his question, leaning in close to his ear as his other hand reaches behind you, seemingly to hand you your drink but then you hear a

“You fucking asshole. What the hell are you trying to do?”

Everyone in the room diverts their attention to your back and you turn around to find Jimin shoving a much larger guy that was standing right behind you. You catch a glimpse of the man’s face and you recognize him instantly. He’s the creep from that night in the earlier semester, the same one Jimin had saved you from and you shudder as he takes a short glance at you. The fact that you’re sandwiched between the two men with Jimin a few steps away, has your hands sweating.

“What’s your fucking problem?” The man growls, shoving Jimin back.

“Don’t try to play dumb with me,” Jimin snarls. “You just fucking roofied her drink,” He points toward your cup.

“What the hell are you on about?”

“I saw you, asshole,” Jimin jabs the man before him, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“Are you fucking hallucinating? Just because your bitch ass can’t handle some alcohol doesn’t mean you have to start a fight,” The man snorts, shaking his head.

“Drink it,” Jimin points to your cup.

“What?”

“If you didn’t roofie it, drink it!” Jimin shouts, grabbing the cup off the counter, offering the drink to his opponent.

The man steps closer, a soft scoff leaving his lips as he sizes up Jimin and everyone in the room knows if a fight ensues, Jimin wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Jimin, stop,” You plead softly, trying to pull him away but he shrugs you away. You hear Hoseok hurriedly making his way through the crowd to dissipate the tension but anything he says goes unheard.

“Yeah come on man why are you causing a scene? You know my buddy wouldn’t do something like that,” Jae gestures towards the cup.

“And you too,” Jimin sneers. “Don’t think I didn’t see you sharing looks with him, gesturing at him as you talked to her. And if you think he didn’t do it, then drink it,” He smirks, offering the cup.

Jae gulps, unsure of what to do, only choosing to stay silent.

“You know, you have some real balls accusing me of some shit like that,” The burly man in front of Jimin grumbles, a tinge of nervousness painting his features as he watches his friend flash him a panicked look. “Just because you think half the girls in here think you’re hot shit, you think you can just start spewing nonsense and everyone will believe you?”

Jimin lets out an indignant scoff because was that really all he could come up with?

“Yeah, you talk big and all that shit but I don’t see you trying to deny it,” He jabs at his chest. “Look, this is simple. If you didn’t do it, show us you didn’t then,” Jimin smiles, stretching his hand outward, the cup almost touching the man’s lips. “Just drink it.”

“Or what? You’ll fight me? Over what? This stupid bitch’s drink?” He laughs, pushing the cup away. “You can’t seem to leave her alone, can you? What? The last time you found her all pressed up against me before you took her away still on your mind? Still jealous?” He refers to the time you had first met him as he turns around to wink at you. A shiver runs through your body and you recede from the argument, your back bumping into Hoseok who holds you steady.

He’s riling him up, wants a reaction, and Jimin knows it. Hoseok steps in, trying to defuse the situation but anyone in the room can see how Jimin has his fists balled up, his jaw clenched. The fire in his eyes alone was enough to tell anyone that he wasn’t going to back down. The guy wanted a reaction? Oh, he’ll get one.

Without warning, Jimin reaches up for the man’s collar, driving him forward until his back clashes with the marble countertop. There’s a scream, a few cheers from the crowd but Jimin hears nothing but the sound of blood rushing in his ears, pure anger flowing in his veins. A loud thud sounds as the man’s fist connects against Jimin’s cheekbone, the rings on his fingers leaving a few scrapes behind and you let out a light yelp, trying to reach forward before Hoseok holds you back. The scuffle escalates and Jimin’s throwing calculated punches, still holding the man against the counter and though both of them are slightly inebriated, the fight is nothing short of intense.

It takes several frat brothers to hold both Jimin and the man apart, Jimin staying silent, his chest heaving as his opponent continues to berate both you and him until he’s thrown out of the house. The room is filled with silent murmuring as you stand at the edge of the crowd in utter shock, trying to understand what had just happened. It’s Jimin that comes up to you, grabbing you by the wrist softly as he murmurs, “Let’s go home.”

The cab ride back to the dorm is silent and most of the time the both of you stare out of your respective windows, not knowing what to say. You’re not sure whether to ask him if he’s okay or if he’s stupid because even if Jimin was right, even if the man had roofied your drink, he had no need to lash out like that. On one hand, you’re grateful that he stepped in, of course you are but on the other you know now that if news of this fight reaches any of the staff in the athletic department, he would surely be put on probation and his athletic scholarship would be seconds away from being revoked.

A soft tap on your shoulder tells you that it’s time to get out of the cab and you nod, sliding out of the car as if you had no mind of your own because you’re still in shock, still in a daze.

“I, uhh, don’t have my keys,” You squeak as you enter the building and it’s with a sigh that he leads you up the stairs, all the way to his room.

Jimin has been uncharacteristically silent the entire time. You expect him to say something, anything but he’s only leaning against his desk, looking out of his window as you take a seat on his bed.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” You start, your voice small and quiet, barely above a whisper.

Jimin lets out a snort, followed by a scoff because of course that’s what you had to say about the whole ordeal.

“So I should’ve just watched you drink your obviously drugged drink?”

“No, I just mean… You shouldn’t have fought with him,” You mumble. “You could have, or still can lose your scholarship.”

He shakes his head at you, laughing because this is just classic you, thinking of others before yourself when clearly you were the one in danger tonight. How could you possibly be thinking about him and his scholarship when you had almost been drugged?

“Well, he was being a dick, talking all that shit and I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.”

“He was just trying to rile you up, to make you hit him first.”

“I know,” He sighs. “He was just talking about you like… like… I don’t know I just couldn’t stand it,” He mumbles, ruffling his hair with his hands as he moves to take a seat next to you.

Absent-mindedly, your hand reaches up to examine the bruise on his face and he pushes it away, wincing in pain.

“You need to ice that,” You whine, trying to take a closer look.

He grumbles, reaching into his mini fridge for a bag of frozen nuggets because it’s the only thing he has. There’s an awkward silence that sits between the both of you and Jimin looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, as if he wants to say a million things to you.

“I just— I just don’t understand why you always give these dickbags attention,” He exhales, finally having the courage to say what he’s been thinking, out loud. “Why do you even bother with guys like them they—"

“I was just being nice,” You grumble, interrupting him. “He started a conversation with me… what was I supposed to do? Ignore him?”

“Well you have no problem doing that with me.”

“Jimin—” You look at him wide-eyed, his name almost sounding like a gasp as you process what he just said. “That’s not… I… uhh I-”

“What? Am I wrong? You do it all the time to me and I just wish you’d tell me why. What are they doing right that I’m not?”

“It’s not… It’s not like that,” You murmur, looking down at your feet in shame and he waits for you to go on, for you to explain yourself but you only shrink inwards, your fingers nervously tapping the edge of his bed.

“You know, I don’t know if you can tell, but you drive me crazy, really you do,” He sighs, rising to his feet, chucking the bag of frozen nuggets back into the freezer. “I don’t know… maybe it’s because I’ve never felt t-this way about someone before but when you ignore me but then go off and give these assholes a chance… I can’t help but think there’s something I did wrong,” He mumbles shyly, as if embarrassed. “Just tell me what I can do… to just… to just have a chance.”

“Jimin I-I,” You stutter, look up at him eyes wide in shock because you had never expected Jimin to say anything like that. “You— It’s not— you don’t really mean that.”

“Mean what? That I like you? I do, god you don’t understand how much I do,” He groans, bringing a hand up to rub at his temple because here he is spelling it out for you that he has feelings for you and here you are, telling him that he doesn’t.

“You’re so… frustrating, really like I just—,” He lets out a long exhale, gathering his thoughts before he begins again. “I know you think I’m just another fuckboy, that maybe I’m just like half the guys in that frat house and maybe I was but… you, you’re just…. You just—” He doesn’t finish his sentence, burying his head in his hands before he storms off to a corner of his room fiddling with an array of things hanging off the panel of wall hooks as he mumbles under his breath. You squint at him in confusion but before you can say anything, he’s padding over to stand right before you.

You gaze up at him, unsure as to what was happening, but he sends you a reassuring smile, removing his hands from behind his back to show you his most prized possession.

“This medal—” He smiles, letting the neck ribbon hang off his fingers, the opulent, circular, gold piece of metal spinning at the bottom of it, reflecting light as it twists around. “This is from the regatta I won freshman year and it’s probably the most important thing I own but I want you—,” He reaches over, slipping the lanyard over your head. “—to have it.”

“Jimin, what? No!” You paw at his hands, trying to push it away but he doesn’t relent until you feel the medal rest against your chest.

“I don’t know how else to prove to you that I want to try this out… that I’m serious about this and I want us to be something more than just whatever we are right now,” He mumbles bashfully, his cheeks now tinged with a light pink hue.

“You… you don’t really mean it,” You mumble, fingers toying with the medal, trying hard to come up with an excuse. “Y-you can’t even call me by my name! That’s like classic fuckboy because you don’t want to mess my name up with the other girls that you—"

“Is that what’s got you worried?” He laughs, shaking his head at you and you know you’re being an A class idiot right now but you’ve never been in a situation like this before and you feel like a fish out of water.

“Y/N L/N,” He begins, and you just stare back at him in shock because it’s the first time you’ve heard him say your name since that day you had first met him. “Yes, I actually do know your name, and just in case you’re wondering, you’re not just some hump and dump kinda girl for me and there are no other girls.”

You stare at him stupidly, as if you don’t believe any part of his previous sentence and he lets out a light laugh, enjoying the pure confusion on your face.

“You’re Y/N L/N,” He grins. “You love potatoes, in all shapes and forms which is why you love Tuesdays because that’s when they serve mashed potatoes at the dining hall. You would rather spend your Thursday nights watching Netflix than at a rager because that’s when a new episode of your favourite show is released. You’re absolutely not a morning person at all, and that’s why you always ask for five more minutes when I try to leave the bed. You murmur in your sleep and you always, always drool but that’s okay, I think it’s adorable. Anyway, should I go on?”

“H-How do you—Why do you know all of that?”

Because I fucking like you, you goon.

“I just do,” He shrugs.

“When did you— Why didn’t you say anything about this… earlier…”

“How can I when you’ve been avoiding me almost all semester?”

“I mean you never— I didn’t know that you—" Your mind is scrambling around, looking for words because he’s right and you know it, but you just don’t want to admit it.

“Well look, I’m only human,” He mumbles. “I fear rejection too. I’ve wanted to tell you so many times and I don’t know if you know this but sometimes you can be very intimidating.”

“I am far from intimidating,” You frown.

“Besides the point,” He waves away your comment dismissively . “Look, I’m not good at all of this… you know, just feelings and things. They’re new to me but you… I just— if we could try this out… maybe—" He sighs, hand playing with the medal around your neck, unable to complete his sentence because like always, he could never really find the right words to say around you.

Jimin looks so endearing, all desperate and confused, his eyebrows knitted together as he runs through the thoughts in his mind. In that brief moment of silence, your hand reaches up to cup his cheek and he gulps, looking at you, almost as if he was bracing himself for the worst but then you send him an impish smile before you close the distance, your lips pressed against his hesitantly, almost as if you’re scared. It doesn’t even take him a second to respond because soon he’s pulling you close, his hand wrapping around you to press you against him. The kiss is delicate, passionate yet soft and slow, as if he was trying to savour every single second. You pull away feeling breathless and the smile he flashes you has you melting in his arms.

“I guess we could… try this out,” You mumble, toying with the round collar of his shirt nervously.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You grin and he smiles at you, crinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes. He brings a hand up to your face, softly stroking the apple of your cheek, his eyes gazing at yours with complete adoration. You feel warmth spread across your chest, for he has always been able to do that to you, render you a complete mess just by looking at you. Jimin pulls you even closer, his nose bumping yours lightly and the both of you laugh quietly, smiling stupidly at each other. It feels like a dream, he thinks, having you so close to him, grinning at him like this and he makes it his mission to kiss you over and over again, to kiss you senseless. None of his kisses are hurried or hungry, they’re innocent and sweet, they’re languid and drawn out because this is all he’s been wishing for ever since he had kissed you in the middle of the cinema back in winter break.

A cold shiver runs up your spine and you laugh as Jimin pulls away from the kiss, looking rather worried.

“Are you cold? Let me turn the heat up,” He mumbles, rising to his feet. You quickly catch his wrist, shaking your head at him when he turns back to raise an eyebrow at you.

“It’s fine, I’m good,” You murmur, your hands leaving his wrist to climb under his sheets instead. Jimin laughs as he watches you settle under his blanket, patting the space next to you as you grin at him and beckon him over to join you. He moves to join you in an instant, his arm slipping under your waist before you can even count to three, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re not going to ghost me again after this, are you?” He asks the question as if it’s a joke as he pulls away from a kiss, but he’s really only asking because he doesn’t want to wake up tomorrow without you next to him.

“I won’t,” You mumble, as if embarrassed. Jimin scans your face to see if he could detect even a hint of uncertainty in your words because if you just asked him, he would erase any doubts you have. He notices you furrowing your eyebrows as if you’re pondering something and he knows there’s something on your mind, but you seem unwilling to say whatever it is.

“Let’s start fresh, let’s clear everything up, starting from winter break,” He murmurs because if you weren’t going to tell him what it is, He was going to make sure he had all his bases covered. “Firstly, don’t laugh but I didn’t know your cousin was your cousin and I had assumed he was your new fling so— hey, I told you not to laugh,” He frowns.

“I’m sorry,” You smile before you nod, asking him to continue as you try to keep a straight face.

“Okay so yeah... I was jealous or whatever so that’s why when Mina asked to go back to her place... I said yes,” He mumbles. “We didn’t do anything other than kiss though, I swear! She asked me to lie for her and—”

“I know, she told me you didn’t sleep with her.”

“Oh... okay next one then,” He smiles. “There are no other girls. Even when you were ignoring me I just... I don’t know it just didn’t feel right. I won’t lie... I kissed a few girls in between but it was to convince myself I was over you but I knew I wasn’t really.”

“Jimin,” You laugh. “You don’t have to explain yourself. You don’t owe me anything like that... we weren’t even together then.”

“I know but I just want you to understand that I’m serious about us,” He mumbles.

“I know,” You smile, leaving a light peck on his cheek.

Jimin however is still wary because he knows something is bothering you. He doesn’t know how to explain it but it just feels like something off, like you aren’t being completely honest with him.

“If you know all of that then... then what’s wrong?”

You give him a confused look, not really sure what he’s asking you.

“Something's still bothering you,” He sighs, his thumb smoothing over the skin at your waist. You tell him there’s nothing but he knows you better than that, knows that you avoid talking about emotions like the plague. “I’m not going to let this go. You can keep lying to me or you can just tell me what it is.”

You let out a heavy sigh and Jimin smirks because he knows he’s won, that his persistence has paid off this time.

“It’s just... it’s...” You mumble before letting out another sigh.

You want Jimin to drop it and you flash him an earnest smile, hoping he’ll let you get away with it this time but the stern look he gives you tells you that there will be no escape this time.

“Dreamcrusher,” You sigh. “That’s what your friends call me.” You let out a sarcastic laugh because saying it out loud, it sounds so stupid.

“What?”

Jimin doesn’t know if you’re joking or where exactly this explanation is going.

“Your rowing... You’re not as good as you were freshman year and it’s my fault because you’re always staying up to be with me and—”

“Wait, wait... where are you getting all of this from?”

“Your friends they said I was the reason for your recent underperformance—”

“They said this to you? Who said this? Jungkook?” Jimin interrupts.

“Well not to me exactly... I kinda eavesdropped on their conversation but well they said that they wished you’d never met me because I’m the reason you were so out of it, the reason as to why your rowing hasn’t been going so well. Then they said you might lose your scholarship because your coaches called you in for a talk and it’s just... I knew it was all my fault so...”

“Y/N... god, is this why you’ve been ignoring me? Is this why you basically ran away after the race the other day?”

“Jimin... I... I don’t know... I-I like you but if this is going to cost you your rowing performance, your scholarship... it’s not worth it. I always use you like a crutch and I give you nothing in return,” You frown, unable to meet his eyes. “You always listen to me, rambling about my problems and I know it’s some heavy stuff and it’s a burden to carry around someone else’s feelings. It’s selfish of me to just make you do that and I... I don’t want to bring you down with me... You know? So when I distanced myself, I knew you were starting to do better at rowing and that’s all I want.”

“My recent underperformance in rowing has nothing to do with you, nothing at all,” He asserts, his thumb wiping away tears that you didn’t know were there. His voice almost has a tinge of shock to it because he can’t believe that you’ve been blaming yourself this whole time over something that had been entirely his fault. “I haven’t been performing well because I tore a muscle in my back over winter break. It’s not because of the late nights, it’s not because of you. If that were the case wouldn’t I have been performing badly last semester too? I mean my injury wasn’t too bad to begin with but I was stubborn and I made it worse by pushing myself too hard. I refused to tell anyone but coach figured it out anyway. I begged him not to tell anyone because I just... I was afraid my teammates would ask coach to remove me from the varsity team.”

“Wait, what your muscle? How bad is it? Are you okay?” You ask, barraging him with questions, your hand reaching to smooth over his back as if it would help.

“I’m fine. It’s all good now,” He smiles, his heart melting at your genuine concern. “Look, the reason I’m late to practice sometimes is because I have to be up an hour before for my physiotherapy session that’s at the campus’ rehab centre. And that scholarship talk they had with me? It was to tell me that I didn’t have to worry about it, that they wouldn’t revoke it just because I was injured,” He sighs, his hands cupping your face because your eyebrows are still furrowed together in worry. “There’s only one reason for my bad rowing and that’s myself. You got that?”

“I... I had no idea. See, this is what I mean,” You frown. “I always get so caught up in myself and my anxiety that I never stop to ask you how you’re doing. You always do so much for me while I... I do nothing in return. I didn’t even know you were going through all of this.”

It’s ridiculous, Jimin thinks. You always did this, blamed yourself for things that aren’t your fault and he just wanted to pick you up and shake you so that you can rid yourself of that mindset.

“That isn’t your fault. Nobody knew about my injury other than coach... Not even my parents. I don’t know... the injury made me feel horrible, weak because you know rowing and I, it’s like we're synonymous. Almost as if I’m nothing if I’m not a good rower if that makes sense so, I just didn’t want to tell anyone.”

“Still...” You mumble. “I could have done something... I was so caught up in myself that I didn’t even stop to think about you,” You sulk because it’s almost like reality check for you. In your mind, you would always ask why is it that nobody could tell, why nobody wanted to take the time to ask you how you were feeling but you were so focused on yourself that you couldn’t tell that Jimin was struggling. It’s the last thing you want, for someone you care about to be suffering in silence. Jimin laughs at the impossibly adorable frown you have on because you’re so oblivious to the fact that you’ve shown him a thousand times just how much you care.

“You did,” He smiles, his fingers intertwining themselves with yours. “I don’t know why you think that our relationship is a one-way thing. You comfort me just as much as I do you.”

“It’s not… it’s not the same. You do so much for me while I just— I do nothing. I never even took the time to ask you how you were doing, not even once.”

“You’re right, you’ve never asked me how I was doing, you never once uttered those words,” He admits and your frown only grows deeper. “But the thing is you always asked that same question but in your own quirky way without you even knowing it,” He laughs.

Jimin relays the time where you asked him about his school work, this incident being only one of the many times you’ve brought up his classes.

“How’s classes now that you don’t have me to copy quiz answers off of huh?”

“You know that I got through freshman year without you right?”

“Yeah, but I remember your mother saying that Physics was the first class you got an A since—"

Jimin silences you by jokingly smothering you with a pillow and he can hear your laughter as you try to fight him off.

“But seriously,” You ask, pushing away the pillow as your laughter dies off. “How are classes going for you?”

He knows you’re asking because you worry that with his responsibilities as an athlete, it’s difficult for him to cope up with all the school work on his own. He’s fine, honestly, he is. He’s been making it to his TA’s office hours and the time he spends with you, studying only helps him.

“Classes are going alright for me,” He smiles, placing the pillow back under his head. “Seriously!” He asserts when you give him a pointed look.

You break out into a smile upon hearing that and you silently move to place you head on his chest, your hand moving to rest on his waist.

Jimin lets out a soft sigh because he knows you would drop everything to help him if he had been struggling for that’s just the way you are. You would move heaven and earth for everyone but yourself. He wishes you would care about yourself the way you did for everyone else.

“I mean but that’s just… that’s different you know? It’s not the same like how you would—”

Jimin shakes his head at you, choosing to ignore you as he begins talking about the time when you asked him about his rowing. For the most part, his life as a rower and all of its struggles is uncharted territory for his friends, even his family. He doesn’t like speaking about it because he finds that he only has negative things to say. He knows his friends shy away from the topic because he always gets snappy but you, you are relentless and you always ask him regardless, albeit in a way that’s peculiar and just so… you.

“Jimin, how much can you bench?”

“Why do you want to know?” He laughs.

“Just wondering…” You hum. “Anyway, do you think you’ll be able to do a push-up if I’m sitting on your back?”

“If I say yes, you’re going to make me do it and right now, I’m dead tired. We’ve been having double training sessions and—”

“All I’m hearing is excuses,” You tease, smiling. “What’s the point of all that training if you can’t even do a push-up with me on your back?”

“What’s the point of rowing training? I don’t know nerd, maybe it’s so that we can I don’t know… row better?” He answers and laughs as you chide him for his sarcasm.

“How is that going for you though?”

“How’s what going for me?”

“Rowing,” You smile.

Jimin could hear it in his head, the thoughts swirling around in his mind telling him that, it’s not going so good because his posture could be better, so could his timing. And his strokes? Oh don’t get him started on that. Even though coach tells him he’s been doing just fine, he knows coach is only trying to spare his feelings. He wants to tell you all of that, he really does but it’s like his tongue is laden with lead and he can’t bring himself to tell you anything but lies.

“It’s going alright,” He finally answers and you give him that same pointed look that you always do. It’s a second chance for him to come clean, he knows it is but it’s almost like it’s an automatic response and all he can say is, “I’m doing alright.”

He lies like the way you do to him and he knows just like how he can tell when you’re lying, you can do the same. You always compensate by making him feel like he’s a better rower than he actually is and you say it with so much conviction that sometimes he almost believes it. It’s endearing, touching almost that you would learn rowing terminology just to understand what he’s talking about. He’s never had anyone do that for him and maybe that’s because he has never let anyone in close enough to do that for him. He wonders how you had got here, got so far when he doesn’t even remember when exactly he had let you in on this side of him. You had seemingly carved your way in through with sheer stubbornness and it’s new, foreign even, having someone probe him about his rowing but it’s a good kind of new.

“I don’t talk about my rowing much and I know I’m not a great rower but—”

“Jimin, you made Varsity in freshman year. How many rowers on the team can say that they’ve done the same? You always give yourself less credit than—”

“—But,” Jimin continues, interrupting your spiel. “You always make me feel like I’m the best rower on the team.”

“You are!”

He laughs because this is exactly what he was talking about. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s your friend or you’re just being nice in general but you always made sure he knew just how much of a great rower you thought he was. You would throw out statistics he doesn’t even know himself about his own performance that would give him confidence, would make him believe he could be the rower all his teammates believe him to be, that you believe him to be. He still has trouble opening up about his rowing but he always felt like you would be ready to listen when he finally does.

“You are,” You mumble again when you note that Jimin has been silent aside from his laugh that seemed to tell you that he didn’t believe you. He flashes you a smile, one filled with adoration before he moves to kiss you. His plush lips presses against yours, each kiss telling you just how much he appreciates you. He gives you a grin, a genuine one this time and you take it as a silent confirmation, one that tells you he’s conceding and agreeing with you that he is a pretty decent rower.

“We really need to work on communication,” He laughs, stroking your cheek. “Half, if not all of this could’ve been avoided if you would have just listened to me when I talked, you know?”

“I know,” You frown. “I’m sorry,” You pout and Jimin wants to be angry, wants you to regret the fact that you had let the whole situation escalate into something so much more bigger than it really was but he’s a weak man and just one look at you has him forgiving you already.

“I’ll make it up to you,” You smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You nod. “Whatever you want me to do,” You smirk.

You had answered him with a sultry tone to your voice, hoping that the conversation would move to somewhere with a lot less talking and a lot more lip-locking because you know Jimin and if he had a weakness, it would be the fact that he couldn’t think straight whenever he lets you have your way with him.

“I just— I just want to take you on a date,” He mumbles, his hand that’s still holding yours beginning to fidget nervously. “I… I want to take you to a movie… just you and me. Just like that time during winter break,” He smiles shyly, his cheeks starting to heat up.

Your heart melts instantly at the poor boy looking at you, all anxious and worried, as if you would deny him that simple pleasure. He’s a big softie at heart, a total opposite to his reputation that exceeds him, one that claims that he’s heartless and inconsiderate.

“We can go for dinner after, somewhere nice with the fancy tablecloths and everything,” He adds. “I’m no Taehyung. I’m not good at grand gestures and I’m horrible at being romantic… but I’ll try my best for you.”

“Jimin,” You laugh, your free hand cupping his jaw. “If I wanted Taehyung, I wouldn’t be here. If I wanted him, I would’ve just chose him. I just want you to be you.”

He smiles at that, his head dipping down to kiss you and this time it’s passionate, rough, his lips moving against yours as if it was on a mission. It’s just that knowing you’re here, with him, and this time for real it’s almost like he wants to capture this moment forever, wants to savour it. His fingers slip away from yours so he could wrap his arms around you, hold you closer against him as he rolls onto his back, placing you on top of him. His hands roam your body as if he was committing every single dip and curve of it to his memory, as if he was mapping out every inch of you in his head. From feeling you smile into the kiss, to feeling your hands cup his face to pull him in closer, it makes a warmth blossom across his chest and all he wants is to kiss you until his lips are swollen and tired.

Your hands leave his face to venture lower, one of them sneaking under his shirt, snaking its way up from his abdomen to his chest while the other pulls the flimsy cotton shirt higher up, a silent signal for him to remove it. You deepen the kiss your lips moving fervently, your tongue brushing against his before you pull back, playing a game of give and take and you can hear Jimin let out a frustrated whine, his head lifting from the pillow as he chases the taste of you. It’s when he hears sounds that mimic his own, your hand tugging his shirt with some urgency that he finally breaks away from the kiss, his lust filled eyes staring at you with slight worry. He’s breathless, his mind almost reduced to mush as he glances at you, your lips pretty and swollen, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“We should slow down,” He mumbles. “We have plenty of time in the world for all of this.”

“Why?” You mumble before pressing your lips up the column of his neck before reaching the spot just behind his ear that makes him shiver.

“It’s just— It’s—” Jimin struggles to string a sentence together, your lips dancing across his skin, making him forget his original train of thought. Frustrated, he tears you away from him lifting you off of his body as he turns onto his side.

“Y/N,” He starts with your name and that’s how you know he isn’t in the mood for games. “If we're going to do this… you know be exclusive, be us, then I just want you to have some time to think about it. A lot has happened tonight and I just want you to be sure.”

“I am sure.”

“Tell me that tomorrow, when you’re a 100% sober and in your right mind, not clouded by lust or anything else,” He smiles.

“But my answer won’t be any differe—”

“Let’s just take it slow,” He interrupts you and it’s almost as if he’s begging you. He doesn’t want to rush things, doesn’t want to ruin it before it’s even begun.

“Okay,” You sigh, a little disappointed because it’s been weeks, months even since you’ve got to touch him like this, kiss him like this. You sit up slightly to remove the medal from your neck and Jimin stops you.

“Keep it on,” He mumbles because for some reason he’s worried that if you take it off, it voids everything that has happen tonight. It’s stupid he knows but what if you wake up tomorrow and you forget everything?

“What if it strangles me in my sleep?”

He doesn’t answer and you take his silence as compliance, slipping the medal off to hang it on his bedpost but even then you can hear the low whine that escapes him. The frown Jimin has on makes you feel like kissing him until it disappears. You run your hand through his hair lovingly, the frown on his lips slowly beginning to turn upward as you reach down to peck him.

“C’mere,” He beckons, patting his chest and you snort at that, placing your head on his chest with a light laugh. He guides your hand to his waist before his arm moves to rest at yours too. You can hear him let out a content sigh, as if he’s entirely pleased with himself even if you could feel his semi hard-on pressing against your thigh. He dots your forehead with delicate kisses as his free hand moves to play with your hair, his soft fingers gliding across your scalp. He knows that you’re annoyed, maybe even angry with him but you’re too precious to him and he’s not going to let you slip through his hands again for what might be just momentary bliss. Whatever doubts you had, he wanted to clear them and to him this is the best way to tell you that he’s serious, that he’s not into just boning you, that he wanted this to last. With a soft squeeze on your waist he places one last kiss atop your head, hoping that you understand what all of this means to him, just how much you mean to him because he’s not too good with words, never have been. In fact, he’s even worse at being able to put his thoughts into words when you’re involved so he can only tug you closer, with the hopes that whatever he had managed to get out tonight, and whatever he has shown you has been enough to tell you that he’s here to stay. It’s almost as If you understood him because you let out a low hum, angling your head upwards to leave a soft peck on his lips, pulling away to flash him an appreciative smile.

Jimin has been patient, kind and he’s given you more than you deserve, given you too many chances when he had every reason to cut you out of his life. He’s too weak, you reason, too soft on you but it’s his willingness to be persistent in a silent way that has lead you back to him. You had put your flaws on display, in hopes that he would turn away like many have but he still kept coming back, still kept waiting for you. He gives you space, gives you time to find him on your own, to pour your heart out on your own terms and for that you’ll always be grateful. He may not be into grand gestures and things like remembering birthdays may not come easy to him but he’s enough in his own special way. He may not remember 100 details about you but he remembers the important things, he may not give you grandeur presents but he gifts you things that money can’t buy like his empathy and his presence and honestly, that’s all you really need.

Like always, the steady thrum of his heartbeat and his soft touches lull you to sleep in an instant. Just his mere presence is like a lullaby to you and that night had been one of the first nights that you had managed to sleep for a full 8 hours. You don’t know how he does it, how he grants you peace just by being there. Truthfully, you’ve missed him so much, missed his touch, his kisses, his laugh and even now you’re still puzzled as to how a boy that you had hated within the first 5 minutes of meeting has suddenly morphed into someone you would want by your side for a long time to come. He’s not a cure all to your problems, you know that but at least he’s there to wipe your doubts away, there to listen to thoughts you think are stupid. You know you have a less than ideal way with dealing with stress and he’s there to keep you in check, make sure you weren’t destroying yourself from the inside out. Jimin isn’t just a warm body to keep you company, he isn’t there to whisper sweet nothings into your ears, he’s there to help you break down your toxic thoughts, there to build you up and assure you that you’re doing just fine. Just as he is your rock, you are his too and that’s what this is, it’s give and take in the best possible way. You understand that now.

For so long, you had been okay with being by yourself that whenever someone tried to be a part of your world, tried to help you, you pushed them away. Maybe it had taken you a little too long to figure out that it was okay to ask for help sometimes, that it was alright to admit that you were drowning, but at least you were here now. Jimin isn’t all too innocent in this and he too has problems that he still has to work through but you’re the first person that has gotten him to even let some light shine through the armour he had built around himself. He’s stubborn, he knows that and most people give up when he snaps at them but you, you didn’t. Maybe it’s because you saw some version of you in him and you refused to let him go down that same path. For the past few weeks he had spent time thinking that knocking on your door all those months ago had been a mistake, that meeting you had been a mistake, that letting you in had been the worst thing he had ever done but of course all of that was just an attempt to cover up how much he was hurting. Out of all the things he had thought about over the course of those few weeks, one had been right. That no matter how much he denied it, he knew more than anything that you have him wrapped around your finger. That very same thought had worried him all those months ago, the notion of having himself tied down to a person scared him but right now it’s his solace and if anything, waking up with your arm wrapped around his middle is where he finds tranquility, being with you is where he finds peace.

There’s nothing but comfortable silence that fills up the room and Jimin is enjoying this, enjoying your presence and warmth on a relatively cool night, his fingers softly stroking the skin of your waist when you suddenly speak up, making him jump a little.

“That cactus,” You point toward the edge of his window sill, your head perking up from his chest as you untangle yourself from him. “Wasn’t that for someone?”

“Yeah, about that… it was for you. Because you know, you remind me of a cactus,” He laughs and you scowl at him. “But I saw the bouquet you had in your hands that day and I panicked.”

You simply shake your head at him, murmuring the word stupid under your breath before you crawl towards the edge of the bed to pick up the small potted plant.

“It’s blooming,” You smile, pointing towards the tiny flower that had been hidden from view. Jimin can only grin at that because he doesn’t believe in divine signs and things of the like but how could he deny this? Spring has finally decided to grace the campus it’s presence and is starting to show in the green grass, the budding trees and of course the blooming cactus in your hand. Perhaps it was a sign of a new start, a good start, because the past seasons have been learning experiences, and much like spring, both fall and winter had a tale of it’s own.

Fall

Fall had been the season he first met you and back then, he had thought you’d be a challenge and that you were, in a way he hadn’t expected at all. You were a challenge in a way that his tricks didn’t really work on you. You weren’t easily smitten by words and simple actions. To get closer to you, you challenged him to look inwards and by doing so, he learnt more about himself in that time. He learnt that it was okay to be vulnerable sometimes, learnt that opening himself up to others meant that he could get hurt, yes, but it also meant that he could finally be understood and seen in a way that he wanted to be, to be loved for who he is and not his confident alter ego.

Winter

Winter on the other hand was pure confusion. Between struggling with getting things right with you and his injury that shattered his self-confidence, it seemed like everything was falling apart. He simply watched as you filled his heart and ripped it apart all in a matter of weeks. A feat he thought no one could achieve. As his rowing went from bad to worse, he realized then that things are easier said than done, that whenever he told you it was easy to speak about what plagued your mind, he was a hypocrite because he kept all the things that bothered him, close to his heart.

Spring

Spring however, is a time of change, a new beginning. Perhaps now the both of you will be able to be honest to each other, say what is on each other’s mind every time instead of hiding away feelings and secrets. Spring is about growing, and hopefully like the very potted plant within your palm, what the two of you have will blossom into something more than just this, more than just a mere affection for one another. Hopefully like the bright red flower that’s beginning to peek out, what you and Jimin have will blossom into love.

And, summer? Well... only time can tell what that season would bring.

Summer

“Jimin, let me borrow your phone real quick to google it,” You plead as he nonchalantly hands it to you, enjoying his drink on a sweltering summer day.

The two of you had just have a heated debate on whether the song that is playing on the retro jukebox is sung by Celine Dion or LeAnn Rimes, with Jimin swearing it’s the latter.

“I’m telling you, it’s LeAnn Rimes. You’re paying for my drink if I’m right,” He smirks and you roll your eyes before you begin to type in the title of the song. how to, you type and then shake your head, meaning to hit backspace to correct your mistake but your fingers stop there because you’re smiling so hard when you see the autocomplete options, with the recently searched icon next to the sentences, appearing below the search box.

how to become a good boyfriend

how to plan a date night

how to impress my girlfriend’s parents

how to dress when meeting her family

What a fucking dork, you snort. You decide to save him the embarrassment, continuing on with the search on who sang the song How Do I Live, your head hanging low when you find out that Jimin is right.

“Told you so,” He hums, smiling as he pockets his phone, watching you put a few bills on top of the receipt with an obvious frown on your face.

The two of you walk hand in hand towards the lake that sat at the edge of your campus and though it’s been almost 5 months now since he first started dating you, he think he’ll never get sick of getting to interlace his fingers with yours. The two of you sit side by side on the bench and Jimin mumbles softly about how the lake looks infinitely better from the middle of it as he glides through the waters on his rowing boat

“Oh by the way, my parents really liked you, you know?” You murmur softly, the comment taking Jimin by surprise. He had begged you not to say anything of last night because it had been a total mess.

Jimin had been so nervous and you saw it the moment you walked into the restaurant with your parents. The boy was sitting there, mumbling to himself, basically shaking as he nervously played with the edge of the tablecloth. Boy, he looked so pale, like he was going to faint at any given moment. You stepped closer to the table, calling out his name and when he spotted the three of you, he stood up so fast that he knocked his chair over, which he hastily picked up before rushing to greet your parents who were visiting for the weekend. You almost laughed when you saw him in a full suit, one so elegant you would think he’s attending a gala when he’s actually at the regular diner on campus.

The wikihow article he had read on how to impress your girlfriend’s parents told him that he needed to make a good first impression and have a firm handshake. Since he probably bombed the good first impression part by looking so frazzled, he hoped a good handshake would make up for it. He reaches forward, accepting your father’s hand and then your mother’s, all the while trying to keep a smile on his face no matter how nervous he was. The both of them smiled back politely, exchanging sweet pleasantries before he watched the two of them share a look as they wiped their hands on their pants.

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry, Mr and Mrs. L/N,” He frowns, wiping his own sweaty hands on his pants. “I uhh, I t-tried, I mean I wiped my hands on the napkin beforehand and I—”

“Oh no sweetheart, it’s just we’re germophobes and we— yeah, umm germophobes... so don’t mind us,” Your mother lies, albeit very poorly and Jimin nods his head in understanding, uttering another sorry before he pulls out a chair for you.

He thought that the whole handshake fiasco would be the last of his mishaps but it was only the start. Later that night, he knocked over a glass of water that spills all over your mother which he apologized for profusely, reaching over to hand her napkins and subsequently knocking over your father’s glass of water too. As if that wasn’t enough, when he took a sip of his own water to calm himself down, he choked on it, the poor boy sputtering all over his meal. Not to mention that he tripped over his own two feet when he returned from a quick trip to the toilet to try and get himself together. All in all it was a 0/10, mission failed, night done, relationship over, kind of feeling that had blanketed over him when he bade you and your parents goodbye. He was absolutely positive that your parents had told you to end things with him the moment he was out of earshot.

“Your parents like me?” He asks, “You’re lying.”

“I’m serious. They thought you were cute. Clumsy, but cute.” You smile, shaking your head. “I mean really though, what happened to you last night?” You laugh, recounting all the things that went wrong.

“I was nervous, okay?” He defends. “I’ve never had to do the whole meet the parents thing before and I just—” He lets out a low whine before he buries his head in the crook of your neck, wishing to hide the blush that had crept up onto his cheeks.

“You were fine, charming really,” You laugh, snorting and though you can’t see his face, you know Jimin is scowling at you. “But, seriously, they thought you were really sweet because you get all googly eyed when you talk about us.”

“I do not,” He mumbles, his words muffled by your neck.

“You do,” You smile. “It’s cute.”

“Fine, I do,” He sighs. “But, listen I just want your parents to know I’m not usually like that. I really tried...” He huffs, finally pulling away from your neck. “I mean I had everything down, like what to do, what to wear, what to say and I just... wanted last night to be perfect. Everything went so differently when I planned it out in my head,” He sighs, dejected.

You place your hands on his cheek, laughing because god, he’s so adorable and sometimes you wonder what people would think if they saw the Jimin they know to be confident and charming in his true blue element, all nervous and nothing but an absolute mess.

“You did great,” You smile, leaning in to kiss him. “A+ for effort.”

He lets out a low whine, placing his forehead on yours and you can’t help but laugh again because he’s so impossibly cute sometimes.

“I just really wanted them to like me.”

“They do!” You tell him once more and he still doesn’t believe you. Nevertheless, he seeks your lip in an attempt to soothe the embarrassment he feels and you comply, letting his lips mold over yours before you pull away to leave a short peck on his nose. “You know, they’ll probably like you even more after I tell them you googled things like how to impress my girlfriend’s parents and how to be a good boyfriend.”

“How do you— Did you go through my search history?!” He grumbles as you laugh at the offended look he wears.

“No! It just appeared in the autocomplete section when I borrowed your phone just now,” You grin and Jimin looked so embarrassed that it seemed like he was seconds away from flinging his entire self into the lake.

“God, you’re so cute,” You sigh as he lets his head loll over the back of the bench, unable to possibly look at you knowing that you now know he’s so inexperienced at relationships that he had to turn to google for help.

“Let’s go home,” He sighs. “I need a nap. After what happened yesterday and today, I just really need a nap.”

The two of you retire to your dorm room where Jimin simply flops onto your bed, waiting for you to join him so you could make him feel better, if that was even possible. He thinks it would take at least 20 years before he stops replaying last night in his head and cringing at every second of it.

“Please don’t tell your parents I googled those things... or anyone, please,” He begs quietly when you place your head on his chest.

“Yeah, yeah, your secret’s safe with me,” You hum as your fingers curl around his waist, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “You’re such a dork,” You snort, laughing because honestly who would’ve thought Park Jimin of all people would be so lame, but you know, the cute kind of lame.

“Shut up, nerd.”

“Can’t I get a cuter nickname? Like babe or something?”

“No.”

“I’m telling Taehyung and Hoseok about your google search history.”

“Fine,” He groans. “Babe,” He sighs before he mumbles nerd under his breath which earns him an elbow to his stomach. Even so, he laughs, placing a kiss on your forehead because last night might’ve been horrible but at least he still has you. His summer with you so far has been made up of moments like these, just you and him, enjoying a little afternoon nap in between the summer courses that the two of you had signed up for. These moments were simple, perhaps even insignificant to some but Jimin loved it, loved how being with you is easy, effortless even.

Perhaps he felt that way about his relationship with you because the two of you were still in the honeymoon stage but even then he thinks out of all the seasons with you, he likes summer the most. He won’t say it’s easy all the time, doing this whole relationship thing but he thinks it’s worth it, the two of you figuring out things together, growing together, learning to love together. It’s hard for him to explain but knowing that you’re by his side eases him, a fact that he never thought would be true because until you, he always thought it was better to be alone, to deal with things all by himself.

Summer has been about unlearning things, for both you and him, unlearning bad habits and learning newer, better ones. Summer was about letting people in, learning to let go and trusting that he would be there for you and you, for him. It’s a process, an arduous one but somehow the two of you make it easier for each other. Often times, you wonder if all this is actually lust but then you remember him laughing whenever he lets out a fart when he’s cuddling you, quickly pulling the blanket over the top of your head to suffocate you with the horrendous smell of it or you see him shake his head at you as he watches you lip sync your favourite songs to him with horrible dancing included and you sigh, knowing that being this comfortable with each other meant that lust was out of the picture.

Summer was about learning that somehow lust had turned to like and like had turned to what you think is love. The word scares you a little but more often than not the word pops into your head whenever you see your boyfriend. It almost slips out of your lips a few times and you worry that it’s far too soon to say the word.

I love you.

Even thinking about saying the sentence makes you nervous. Perhaps, that’s something for you and him to conquer in the next season, you smile.

A/N: sorry this took so long!!! i love you all for being so patient! I hope you liked it (: As always, thank you so much for reading and feedback is welcome!!!

if you’d like, read the Taehyung finale!

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bangtan bookclub #bangtanwriters-net #jimin fluff #jimin angst

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aabaker1 · 6 years ago

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Just finished Harvey Girls season 2

First spoiler-free Version. Season two of Harvey Street Kids or Harvey Girls Forever call it what you want, was...uneven. The season started and ended in good places, but there was a block of three episodes towards the middle that just fell flat. Good new characters, though only a few of them got developed. And I am really hesitant about the cliffhanger, it could easily go wrong in a lot of ways.

Okay time for the full rundown after the break.

Hoo boy this series had some highs and lows. I’ll break down by episode and then final thoughts.

Raiders of the Lost Park:

Okay does anyone else notice that the episode titles Netflix presents aren’t always the same as the ones on the title card? It’s not that big a deal, but come on, it’s Dreamworks and Netflix. A little consistency would be appreciated.

Nice way to start the series. This was a risky move, introducing brand new characters was one thing, but giving Audrey and Melvin, two established characters, brand new siblings? That was taking a risk. If I had to complain about something the tension and strife Dot caused in the season 1 finale was brushed aside way too quickly, but that’s a nit pick at most.

Dottie Rocket/Weekend at Audrey’s:

Good Dot episode, nice to see her obsessive compulsiveness get the better of her sometimes. But, Dot sill came back down to Earth in the end, even if it took a sugar-induced hallucination to do it.

Digital pets kicking the bucket, sigh, I can relate. But Audrey was just a bit out of character here. Not her recklessness, but her attempts at covering up. Audrey is not the type of person to hide mistakes, get frustrated by them, sure, but not hide them. Okay, she didn’t want to disappoint Lotta, but Audrey just doesn’t have that kind of deception in her.

Boy Story/ Puzzle, Puzzle, Toil and trouble.

And this is what I meant by character development. It’s nice to see that even the Bloogie Boys have limits, and legitimately like more than stereotypical boy hobbies. Also, nice touch remembering Dot and Pinkeye are friends.

Frufru, getting character development? Didn’t we already do this in season one? Okay, I know, people don’t just change overnight. But, for being so eager to be recognized for her brains, Frufru was a bit too quick to cheat. Though nice callback to Audrey Parkour. And I seriously don’t want to know why there’s an old well full of butter, that is just leads to several nasty implications.

Treasure of the Sierra Harvey/ Babies Day in:

And the character development continues, this time for TIny. Also not all old toys are dangerous. The treasure trove of old toys idea has been done before, but this wasn’t a bad example. Though I thought for sure Tiny was going to leave his action figure behind in the storm drain.

And a nice way to show that Lotta’s compassion can get out of hand some times. Also nice way to show that raccoons aren’t always jerks. Just gonna say it now, ninja pajamas, just ninja pajamas. Also, Dot, running bare-foot, outside, in the park? What kind of bizzaro world is this?

The Lice Storm/ Mission Impossibow:

This one kinda fell flat for me. Audrey over reacting is expected enough, but everyone going along with it, including Dot, that was a bit too far. But, the big letdown was the Harvey Avenue Kids. Okay we’ve seen them before in season one, but this was there chance to shine. And most of them came off as background filler, just like before. Penny was the only one who got any kind of development. But, she and bald Audrey did just enough to save this ep for me.

Decent episode and it shows Dot’s possible great weakness. She’s creative, but in a scientific, A, to B, to C kind of way. Imagining fantasy scenarios on the spot is just not in here wheelhouse, props to her stepping outside of her comfort zone. Bow initiated the plot here, but didn’t get a lot of character development. But, I’m okay with that. The Bow doesn’t really need development. She’s the bow, the weird kid who does her own thing, sometimes you don’t need to add more to make something good. My only complaint is that there just wasn’t enough of her this season, but I guess there can be too much of a good thing. Did I mention Bow’s my favorite character? Could you tell?

Fandom Menace/Moby Dot:

This one was a meh for me. It didn’t do Lotta any favor. I know she’s the trusting type, but she’s not dumb and certainly not the type to willfully delude herself. I think this was a bit of a miss step. Thankfully they didn’t do the cliche of scamming Zoe out of the ticket she sold. Lotta’s online appeal did fit her character and kudos to Crush4you to being stand up guys and respecting their fans like that.

The Cheer Hunter: Dot’s entertainment:

And more character development in an unexpected direction. So far Zoe’s two appearances had her solidly in the antagonist role, but here we she she’s actually a person, not just a stereotype. Also Maria feeling generally dissed by Zoe fast-tracking Lotta felt genuine. It’s nice to see them do plots that don’t involve someone getting their comeuppance. And everybody coming together to cheer Lotta up was a perfect touch. Also, Dot and Stu being completely (whatever) to the whole situation was funny as hell.

And once again we have Dot at her Obsessive Compulsive best. She discovers a new side to herself and like Dot, naturally takes this to the extreme. Also, nice to get a glimpse of how Dot’s brain works. Also, Fluffy’s still around, what? You do remember that was just a rat covered in garbage can fuzz, right?

I wanna Crush Your Hand:

And this is where the dip in the season started. I’m just going to say it now, I’m not the target demo for boy bands, not by a long shot. But, that wasn’t the problem I had with this episode. No the main problem was Lotta’s obsession taking up the whole spotlight. It felt like Audrey and Dot just got shoved into the background. Plus this episode just dragged. I’ve gotta say it, I think the two stories an ep format works best for this series. The double-length story just doesn’t fit, here.

Beyond Thunder Dot: Ten things I hate about Ew:

And this is where the season hit the valley for me. Seriously, you’re doing the “Let’s shove the environmental message down kids throats” Thing in 2019? I thought that went out of fashion in the 2010s. But, the most galling thing for me was all that character developing they were doing came to a complete halt. Frufru’s character development? Nah, let’s just turn her into a low rent Captain Planet villain. And since when did Dot get that preachy? I’m sorry but this got so painful for me I had to stop the ep and walk away. Ten things I hate about Ew might have been a decent episode, I don’t know. And I never will if I have to sit through this outdated, anvilicious garbage to get to it.

Something’s Glotta Give/Afernoon Contrite:

I think the main thing with this story is it made no sense to me. I thought Gerald and Lotta got together in season one, now Lucretia’s trying to hook them up, what?

This is where the season started to pick back up for me. It’s nice to see that even after the previous character development Melvin can still be Melvin. It’s nice to see that Lotta tries to fix things, even if she did it by accident, but naive Lotta is back and I just don’t know how I feel about that. Still seeing Melvin get a bit more character growth saved this one.

Can’t Hardly Wait/Bring it Prawn:

Ah that’s more like it. This touches my fanfic-writing heart. It’s nice to see Lucretia stretching her active imagination. It’s also nice to see the Audrey Girls and Tiny encouraging her self confidence. Plus in short order we got return of Audrey the Destroyer, Sci-Fi Dot and Lotta Moon, what’s not to love?

Thank you! Thank you for showing that cartoon siblings can do more than just fight with each other. This almost makes up for the environmental debacle, almost. In one fell swoop we see Maria and Melvin get along and Zoe and Audrey put their differences aside and work together for a common cause. Bonus points seeing Zoe stick up for Audrey. Audrey may be an annoying twerp, but she’s Zoe’s annoying twerp, damn it! Also, anyone else imagine buff Zoe and Audrey when Dot kept saying aabs.

Hover, may I board with danger/free Gilly:

And here’s Stu’s character development. Stu always seemed the odd man out. While Zoe and Maria have Audrey and Melvin to play off of, Stu was just sort of there. Now we see his too cool for school attitude is really a front for him being sensitive and a little insecure, that’s a nice touch. Also Audrey gets to grow as a person. First she was just legit conning Stu for time on the hover board, which was really just a Segway without the handles, but then she genuinely gets into the contact juggling. And one of her plans actually works for once, what? Also, what is up with Bobby this season, last season he was the older kid who doled out sage advice and could be a little jerkish sometimes. Now this season the sage advice stuff is all but gone and we just get the jerk, everyone else gets character development, but Bobby actually backslides a bit, guess they had to cut corners somewhere.

Finally a payoff to the running gag of Audrey’s goldfish issues. Nice to see that finally wrapped up. But, was it strictly necessary to give the animals voices? Okay, I admit it wasn’t so bad for Bobby the skunk, but every freaking animal? Yeesh, I mean there is such a thing as subtlety.

That thing you Dot!/Where the streets have no games:

You know, at first I thought I was going to hate bring Chevron back, didn’t she and Dot make peace back in season one? But, then I found that I really didn’t hate it. Dot used the wrong word. Chevron is not a frenemy, she’s a competitor and that may actually be a good thing. Dot and Chevron are very similar, they like to take hobbies to the absolute extreme and there’s nothing wrong with that. They two drive each other to succeed. In fact if they didn’t have each other they probably wouldn’t do half as much as they do. And Kudos bring Penny back and giving her a voice, she’s going to be the lead Harvey Avenue kid, I just feel it.

And here we are, okay, I’ll go through ep first before getting to the diamond-studded elephant in the room. Nice commentary on mobile games and how their designed to addict you. And yeah they really are just excuses to gather data. Also, nice touch Lotta and Audrey being the only ones who weren’t suckered in. Sadly Dot’s obsessive compulsive tendencies made her an easy target. But, then we go into that cliffhanger. Yeesh, that cliffhanger.

Finale Thoughts:

I’ll just say it. I know they were going to pull Richie in at some point. But to quote the Bow, not this way. The entire idea behind Richie Rich is that in spite of being the richest kid on Earth, Richie was a normal, average kid, who just wanted to make friends and have fun. He was never portrayed as being snobbish, sheltered or clueless.

Only now it’s clear Richie set up the mobile game and the contest to try to figure out how kids have fun. Not only is being clueless, he’s using money to try to solve his problems, which Richie never did.

And worse it’s predictable. I can tell where this story is going. The Harvey girls together maxed out the fun-o-meter, so Richie’s going to take them off to his estate to be his new friends and the Harvey Girls are going to bring him down to Earth.

But, they shouldn’t have to. Richie has always been portrayed as already being down to Earth. Now they’re going out of their way to portray Richie as a clueless rich kid who doesn’t understand how the real world works, and that is just wrong. That’s not Richie. Although nice touch with the Irona reference.

But, there’s something that worries me even more. Now that you’ve pulled the pin on Richie, where do you go with him from here, does he become a regular? I hate to say it, but I hope not.

You have to remember, that by default, Richie is the biggest presence in the room. If you over use him he could quickly over shadow Audrey and the others, in fact, he already has once before.

I’m taking about Harvey Comics. For over ten years, Audrey, Lotta, Dot and their friends ruled Harvey comics. Then Richie, Wendy and Casper came along. And within a few short years Audrey and company were all but forgotten. I just hope to go they have enough sense not to try to make this the Richie Rich show. I think they do. I think they understand a way to use Richie right and they already done it in the same episode, with Chevron.

Chevron is a big personality, so they don’t overuse her. So far she’s shown up once a season and that’s just right for her. It’s all she needs. If she were on regularly she’d drown the others out too much. But, this way when she shows up it’s a big deal. I think that’s the perfect approach to take with Richie, less is more. Just don’t turn him into a clueless rich kids, please?

#harvey-street-kids #Harvey-Girls-Forever

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bronzeflower · 6 years ago

Text

Who The Fuck Writes A Ten-Page Rant?????

Chapter 22: Invitations

Also on ao3

-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

TT: I apologize if I’m currently intruding on your personal time, but I would like to invite you to a party I am throwing soon.

CG: HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU BE INTRUDING ON MY PERSONAL TIME? CG: I THINK WE KNOW EACH OTHER WELL ENOUGH FOR YOU TO MESSAGE ME WHENEVER THE HELL YOU WANT. CG: EVEN IF IT’S THREE IN THE MORNING, BUT I’D STILL YELL AT YOU FOR WAKING ME UP LIKE ANY REASONABLE PERSON WOULD.

TT: Noted. TT: Well, anyway, I am personally inviting you to a celebratory party I’m throwing to commemorate the publishing of my newest book.

CG: OH! CG: CONGRATULATIONS!

TT: Yes, I will be excited to relax for the next couple of weeks instead of frantically writing in an effort to meet an arbitrary deadline. TT: There is the exception of book signings, but those don’t take too long.

CG: WHEN’S THE PARTY THOUGH? CG: I NEED TO KNOW IF I’LL BE ABLE TO BE THERE.

TT: It’s in about a month. TT: I need to offer people an apt amount of time to plan for the party. TT: It’s not on too short notice that the majority of people won’t be able to be there and not too much notice to the point where people completely forget about it.

CG: AH, YES. CG: THE CLASSIC MAKING CERTAIN THAT MOST PEOPLE CAN’T MAKE AN EXCUSE AS TO WHY THEY ARE UNABLE TO ATTEND YOUR PARTY.

TT: Precisely. TT: I want as many individuals as possible to be trapped by social obligation.

CG: DIABOLICAL.

TT: Yes, I am the greatest supervillain alive. TT: And by that, I mean I eliminated my competition until they had no choice than to elevate me to the number one supervillain.

CG: I’D SAY THAT JUST PROVES THAT YOU’RE THE BEST SUPERVILLAIN. CG: DESTROYING THE COMPETITION LIKE THAT? CG: ESPECIALLY IF THEY WERE CONSIDERED BETTER THAN YOU BEFORE.

TT: Yes, it took elaborate planning and all of my wit, but I finally managed to stab my opponent's eyes out with my knitting needles. TT: My part is actually meant to celebrate my ascension to the top of the criminal ladder.

CG: I’LL BE SURE TO CONGRATULATE YOU ON YOUR ACHIEVEMENT AT THE PARTY.

TT: That would be greatly appreciated, particularly since it’s a secret only known by the criminal community. TT: The only ones to congratulate me have been lowly villains and the mafia who are after my spot. TT: It’s good to know that someone who’s not going to turn me in or try to kill me knows the work I have actually done.

CG: HOW DO YOU KNOW I WON’T TURN YOU IN?

TT: I’m dating your moirail, and she would be upset if I went missing or went to jail. TT: I think I’m safe.

CG: FAIR ENOUGH. CG: AND WHAT OF THE BLACKMAIL I KNOW HAVE ON YOU?

TT: I have more blackmail on you than you have on me.

CG: TOUCHÉ.

TT: You can’t lay a finger on me. TT: That being said, we should really talk in person sometime. TT: I feel we don’t really meet up enough outside of your place of employment.

CG: WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST?

TT: Coffee, perhaps? TT: I would also like to note that I am not asking you on a date. TT: This is a purely platonic hangout. TT: I mean absolutely no offense by this, but I don’t feel any romantic attraction to you at all.

CG: LIKEWISE.

TT: I’m glad we have come to an agreement. TT: Also, going out for coffee is somewhat hypothetical because of how busy I’ll be for the next month. TT: The book signings won’t take much time, but I will have a plethora of them planned, and I still have to finish planning for the party. TT: Not to mention that I have high standards for coffee, and all the coffee I enjoy tends to be from the higher end, more expensive coffee shops.

CG: THAT’S FINE. CG: WE CAN JUST HANG OUT SOMETIME AFTER YOUR PARTY. CG: ALSO, I DON’T MIND EXPENSIVE COFFEE SO LONG AS YOU PAY FOR IT.

TT: That’s fair. TT: now that we’ve made these plans, I’m afraid I have to say bye for now. TT: I have more invitations to send out.

CG: I HOPE YOU’RE NOT PLANNING ON GIVING ALL YOUR GUESTS PERSONAL INVITATIONS.

TT: I’m only giving them to close friends. TT: Everyone else gets an automatic responder that my brother made.

CG: DAVE MADE AN AUTORESPONDER?

TT: No. TT: My older brother Dirk made it. TT: He’s very skilled with technology. TT: Dave is smart, but I don’t think that kind of thing is part of his skill set. TT: He’s more of a language and history guy. TT: Although he is pretty into science, I suppose. TT: He ended up majoring in Paleontology in college.

CG: OH, THAT’S PRETTY COOL.

TT: Yeah, he was originally going to go into music, and then switched to video editing before settling into Paleontology. TT: But seriously. TT: I do actually have to go now, regardless of how pleasant it is to chat with you.

-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

-- autoResponder [AR] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

AR: Congratulations! AR: You have been invited to [location] for [celebratory occasion]. AR: There will be [food] and [drinks]. AR: Please send your regrets to [phone number]. AR: We hope you come and have a(n) [adjective] time. AR: This message has been sent on behalf of [name].

CG: WHAT IS THIS-A MADLIBS GAME? CG: I’M NOT A FUCKING WRIGGLER! CG: AND WHAT EVENT ARE YOU EVEN INVITING ME TO?

AR: Sorry, bro. AR: It seems like there was a 47.834% chance that I malfunctions for a hot second there. AR: You know how batshit technology can be sometimes. AR: Except me. AR: I’m the perfect responder.

CG: WELL, YOU MALFUNCTIONED, SO YOU CAN’T BE *THAT* PERFECT.

AR: If I had actual emotions, I would be offended by that. AR: But I, as a superior robot, will respond with dignity and grace. AR: Fuck you.

CG: WOW. SO CREATIVE. CG: I’VE HEARD BETTER INSULTS FROM A ROCK ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD.

AR: I don’t need to respond to that.

CG: YOU JUST DID. CG: THAT’S YOU JOB-YOU AUTOMATICALLY RESPOND TO EVERYTHING.

AR: Touché.

CG: DON’T YOU *TOUCHÉ* ME.

AR: What are you, my mom? AR: All telling me not to talk back and shit. AR: You’re not even related to me.

CG: *FUCK* CG: AND I CAN’T STRESS THIS ENOUGH CG: *YOU*

AR: Didn’t you tell me off for using the exact same insult earlier?

CG: YEAH, BUT I USED *ASTRECKS.*

AR: So it’s automatically better?

CG: YES.

AR: Wow. AR: Fuck you.

CG: FUCK YOU TOO, YOU FESTERING PILE OF SCRAP METAL!

AR: Fuck you.

CG: FUCK YOU!

AR: Fuck you.

CG: FUCK YOU!

AR: Fuck you.

CG: DO I NEED TO GET MY OWN PERSONAL AUTO-RESPONDER TO EXCLUSIVELY SAY *FUCK YOU* CONSTANTLY WHENEVER ANYONE TYPES ANYTHING?

AR: I wouldn’t recommend it. AR: People catch on pretty quick that it’s not you and then everything just gets awkward.

CG: WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW THAT?

AR: Experience.

CG: I DON’T EVEN THINK I WANT TO KNOW.

AR: Aw-that’s such a shame. AR: i have some very interesting stories.

CG: I. CG: DO. CG: NOT. CG: WANT. CG: TO. CG: KNOW. CG: THANK YOU VERY MUCH, YOU RUSTY DILDO.

AR: That was the best insult I’ve ever heard. AR: Please insult me more. AR: Not in a sexual way because I'm technically thirteen and sixteen at the same time. AR: Regardless, sill a minor. AR: Even if I am a robot. AR: It’s merely an interest in the insults you could come up with for me.

CG: I ABSOLUTELY REFUSE TO DO THAT. CG: AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN ANSWER MY QUESTION. CG: WHAT EVENT DID YOU EVEN INVITE ME TO?

AR: hold on, I’ve got to recalibrate some shit. AR: Loading… AR: Loading… AR: Loading… AR: just kidding. AR: I don’t actually need to do that. AR: Here’s the message just for you. AR: Congratulations! AR: You have been invited to [Rose’s mansion] for [the celebration of a new book release]. AR: There will be [food] and [drinks]. AR: Please send your regrets to [Rose’s phone number]. AR: We hope you come and have a(n) [great] time. AR: This message has been sent on behalf of [Rose Lalonde].

CG: I ALREADY KNEW THAT INFORMATION.

AR: What, really?

CG: YEAH, ROSE TOLD ME HERSELF.

AR: Oh, wow. AR: I can hardly believe you’re close friends with Rose.

CG: I’M NOT REALLY. CG: I’M JUST HER MATESPRIT’S MOIRAIL.

AR: That makes more sense. AR: No offense, but actually a lot of offense because that’s generally what no offense means, but you seem a little too shouty for Rose.

CG: HM.

AR: Hm?

CG: YES, HM. CG: HM AS IN I DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT HOW AN AI FEELS ABOUT MY FRIENDSHIP WITH ROSE. CG: FRANKLY, IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

AR: Actually, I’m her brother, so it is kind of my business.

CG: BUT YOU’RE NOT A BIOLOGICAL LIFEFORM?

AR: No, but I am based on her brother’s brain. AR: The thirteen-year-old brain of her brother, at least.

CG: OH, SO THAT’S WHY YOU’RE SO INSUFFERABLE.

AR: Insufferably cool, you mean.

CG: MAYBE THE FLESH DAVE, BUT NOT YOU.

AR: Oh, I’m not based on Dave. AR: I’m based on Dirk.

CG: OH, GOD, I FORGOT THAT DAVE HAD SIBLINGS BESIDES ROSE. CG: I SHOULD HAVE PROBABLY KNOWN THAT, ESPECIALLY SINCE ROSE LITERALLY TOLD ME JUST A BIT AGO. CG: HOW MANY SIBLINGS EVEN ARE IN YOUR FAMILY?

AR: Four. AR: Five if you include me. AR: Dave Strider, Dirk strider, Rose Lalonde, Roxy Lalonde, and me, Hal Lalonde.

CG: WHY ARE YOU LALONDE INSTEAD OF STRIDER?

AR: Reasons. AR: Also, what was up with the “FLESH DAVE” thing?

CG: I FIGURED SAYING REAL DAVE WOULD BE OFFENSIVE TO YOU. CG: YOU AREN’T EXACTLY “FAKE.”

AR: Oh. AR: How sweet. AR: Alright, I now approve of your friendship with Rose.

CG: I DIDN’T NEED YOUR APPROVAL, BUT ALRIGHT.

AR: Hey. AR: Listen.

CG: I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE A FICTIONAL FAIRY.

AR: That is a heavily desired state, but that isn’t the point I was going to make. AR: I have to make sure that my siblings are friends with good people.

CG: I DON’T THINK THAT’S YOUR JOB, BUT OKAY.

AR: Do siblings not usually worry about if their siblings are handing out with the wrong crowd?

CG: I WOULDN'T’ KNOW. CG: TROLLS GENERALLY DON’T HAVE SIBLINGS.

AR: Oh. AR: I guess I’m so used to having siblings that I forget that some people don’t have them.

CG: SEEMS WEIRD TO FORGET SOMETHING AS AN AI.

AR: So it seems.

CG: ANYWAY, I’VE GOT SOME SHIT TO DO, SO I’M GONNA OLLIE OUTIE. CG: FEEL FREE TO MESSAGE ME AGAIN, I GUESS.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling autoResponder [AR] --

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA] --

CG: HEY, KANAYA.

GA: Karkat Thank God You Have Messaged Me At A Time Of Distress

CG: WHAT ARE YOU UPSET ABOUT?

GA: I Recently Had A Conversation With Rose Wherein She Invited Me To A Celebration Of Her Newest Book And I Am Unaware Of The Proper Protocol At Such An Event GA: What Do I Say GA: What Sorts Of People Will Be There GA: Should I Bring A Gift GA: What Do I Wear GA: There Are So Many Factors To Consider I Have No Idea Where To Start GA: Oh Wait Im So Sorry Karkat You Probably Had Something You Wanted To Talk About

CG: NO, IT’S FINE. CG: I MOSTLY JUST WANTED TO TALK TO YOU.

GA: Oh GA: Okay

CG: NOW, YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT ROSE’S PARTY?

GA: Yes Extremely So

CG: I COULD SAY THAT YOU SHOULDN’T WORRY ABOUT IT TOO MUCH BECAUSE ROSE WILL JUST BE HAPPY BY YOU BEING THERE, BUT I HAVE A FEELING THAT WON’T WORK SUPER WELL. CG: ESPECIALLY SINCE THE PARTY’S IN A MONTH.

GA: Do You Already Know The Details Of The Party

CG: YEAH, ROSE INVITED ME TOO. CG: WHICH ALSO MEANS I CAN ACCOMPANY YOU TO THE PARTY IF THAT WOULD MAKE YOU MORE COMFORTABLE.

GA: Yes That Would Be Greatly Appreciated GA: I Still Have Worries But You Being There With Me Would Make Me Feel Less Nervous

CG: LET’S TRY AND ADDRESS THOSE WORRIES. CG: WE COULD START WITH CLOTHING BECAUSE THAT’S PRETTY SIMPLE TO TAKE CARE OF. CG: MARIE KONDO YOUR WORRIES. CG: FOCUS EXCLUSIVELY ON WHAT TO WEAR FOR NOW.

GA: What About Everything Else

CG: WE HAVE A MONTH. CG: WE CAN WORRY ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE LATER.

GA: Alright I Will Try

CG: IT’S A FORMAL EVENT, SO YOU CAN IGNORE MOST OF YOUR CLOSET. CG: IT’S ALSO NOT BLACK TIE, SO YOU’RE FREE TO WEAR COLOR.

GA: Should I Wear A Dress Or A Skirt

CG: THINK THAT DEPENDS ON THE LENGTH YOU WANT TO GO

GA: Does It

CG: YEAH-MOST OF YOUR SHORTER SKIRTS AREN’T REALLY FORMAL, SO IF YOU WANT TO GO WITH A SHORTER SKIRT, YOU SHOULD PROBABLY WEAR A DRESS.

GA: I Forgot About That GA: I Think However I Will Wear A Long Dress GA: Which Certainly Narrows It Down By A Significant Margin GA: Maybe Something More On The Sexy Side GA: Probably Not The Red One GA: Its A Little Too GA: Hello There GA: Its My Thigh

CG: FAIR ENOUGH. CG: WHAT ABOUT THE BLACK ONE? CG: THE ONE WITH THE JADE EDGES WITH THE WHITE STRAPS CONNECTING THE SLIT AT THE TOP?

GA: Honestly That Is Probably The Best Option GA: I Can Wear My Moon Choker GA: The One That Has Chains Attached To It GA: What Earrings Should I Wear GA: Would It Be Weird To Wear The Sailor Moon Ones

CG: IT MIGHT.

GA: Ill Stick To The Dangly Star Ones Then

CG: THE ONES WITH MULTIPLE STARS OR JUST ONE?

GA: Just One GA: The Other Ones Are A Little Too Much GA: Ill Wear My Rose Bracelet For An Extra Splash Of Color And My Half Inch Black Heels

CG: GOING FOR COMFORT THERE. CG: THAT’S A GOOD IDEA. CG: YOU DON’T WANT TO END THE NIGHT WITH BLISTERS.

GA: That Would Not Be Ideal No GA: But I Still Want To Hear The Click Clack Of Heels When I Walk GA: Its A Very Powerful Feeling GA: Now Theres The Makeup Look To Worry About GA: Should There Be More Focus On The Eyes Or The Lips GA: And What Should I Match My Lipstick To GA: The Dress The Dress Accents Or Should I Match To The Rose Bracelet

CG: SO, BLACK, JADE, OR RED LIPSTICK?

GA: Yes Those Seem To Be The Options GA: Black Seems Too Subtle GA: Would It Be Strange To Not Wear Red Lipstick GA: Because Then The Rose Would Be Alone In Its Hue GA: But Red Might Be Too Bright

CG: YOU COULD WEAR A DARKER RED. CG: WHAT’S THAT ONE LIPSTICK YOU HAVE? CG: VAMPIRE BLOOD OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT?

GA: Yes It Is Called Vampires Blood GA: That Could Work Well GA: I Feel Like My Eye Look Should Be More Subtle GA: Some Dark Gray With A Bit Of Silver To Match My Jewelry GA: A Small Cateye In Black Eyeliner And Some Black Mascara GA: Or Should I Go For The Jade Eyeliner

CG: THE JADE MIGHT LOOK A BIT STRANGE WITH THE REST OF THE OUTFIT, ESPECIALLY IF YOU’RE GOING FOR SOMETHING MORE SUBDUED.

GA: Right What Was I Thinking

CG: THAT IT WOULD GO WITH THE ACCENTS OF YOUR DRESS? CG: IT WASN’T A BAD IDEA-IT JUST WASN’T THE LOOK YOU WERE GOING FOR.

GA: Yes Thank You GA: I Think Ill Do Something Simple With My Eyebrows And Wear Some Pale Green Highlighter GA: Just Enough To Mimic Blush And Give Me Some Glowiness

CG: THAT SOUNDS LIKE A GREAT IDEA.

GA: And That Should Be Mostly It For The Outfit GA: Oh Wait What About Hair GA: How Should I Style It GA: I Could Maybe Braid Parts Of It GA: Should I even Style It Differently From Normal GA: No I Think That Might Be A Little Too Much In Terms Of Effort GA: I Dont Want To Look Over Stylized GA: So Maybe I Wont Do Anything With My Hair GA: Except Get It Cut Beforehand GA: Not To Look Fancy Of Course But Because I Should Get My Hair Cut Soon Anyway GA: So I Might As Well Do It At A Time Which Is Most Convenient To Me Fashionably Speaking GA: And I Suppose Thats It GA: Huh

CG: HUH?

GA: Its Just A Little Strange To Have This Outfit Layed Out And Only Wear It In A Month

CG: BUT DO YOU FEEL BETTER FOR HAVING IT?

GA: Yes GA: Very Much So GA: Thank You GA: For Helping Me Relieve My Silly Worries

CG: I DON’T THINK THEY WERE SILLY. CG: THEY WERE PERFECTLY VALID WORRIES, AND I’M GLAD I COULD HELP YOU WITH THEM.

GA: <><><><><><>

CG: <>

GA: I Think GA: I Think Im Going To Go Take A Nap Now

CG: SWEET DREAMS.

-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

#homestuck #karkat vantas #kanaya maryam #rose lalonde #autoresponder #hal #homestuck hal #kankat #pale kankat

4 notes · View notes

coffee-for-himchan · 7 years ago

Text

Hadn’t She Told You? (Zelo Hospital AU)

Requested by: a lovely anon

Word count: 7 k+

Genre/warnings: fluff, hurt and comfort. Involves medical conditions of main characters such as broken bones and cancer, so in case uncomfortable with reading such content, reading something else is advised.

Summary: Since the first time he saw her around the hospital, he figured he wanted to strike up conversation. And ever since it turned out she felt the same, things seemed to head into the right direction. That is, until he found out a detail she had never told him about before - like the fact she had a diagnosis with a rather scary name, though it didn’t scare her at all. What frightened her instead was the fact she thought he might leave if he ever found out.

(A/N) In full honesty, I had a hard time approaching this subject at first. I also felt like adding an author’s note because I wanted to say something, but am quite lost in my own words currently. To anyone out there who might be facing any health-related issues, I genuinely wish you all the best and hope everything will eventually turn out fine.

"It really does look a lot better than last week, Mr.Choi," the doctor adjusted his glasses, looking down at his papers once more before staring back at Junhong who seemed to be just a little bit less excited about the news than he should probably be, "Still, at least another two or so weeks of bed rest and additional tests and treatments are required for a full recovery. I know that you are required to be back on track as soon as possible, but upon request you were advised to do a definite, full course of treatment before joining your schedules again. We could always rush the process and all, but I really would not want any possible complications to occur, so the decision to keep you here for a little longer was made. It's for the better."

The doctor hadn't even managed to properly leave the room yet as a familiar head popped out of the doorway. The squint that was directed at Junhong made him smile a little, and as his youngest hyung entered the room, Junhong scooted a little bit closer to the edge of the bed, offering some space for him to sit down on.

"I heard him say two weeks," Jongup said quietly as he sat down, looking at Junhong with concerned eyes, "They're not gonna like it."

"As if they ever like when any of us have issues," Junhong chuckled back a little, looking out the window, "As if they ever care for real. Even now, if it wouldn't be for the public and their frustration about the announcement I'd be joining the next fanmeeting despite my injuries, I wouldn't be here. I'd be out there, doing schedules, no matter if it hurts or not."

It was spring already, and the blossoming leafs, the dim, faded sun and the creatures coming back to life were the only things making his days a little more beautiful and bright now that he was in hospital. His stare stayed directed at the very corner of the window, where the sun poked through branches subtly to greet him with it’s shine. Out of all hospitals, he was lucky to have been brought to this one, as it was more on the small side, and even resembled some type of pretty resort due to it's beautiful surroundings and the overall quiet atmosphere.

"Don't pay attention to it," Jongup made him look back at him, sounding all too serious to be in his normal spirit, "Yongguk hyung already gave a piece of his mind about the situation in public, earning like a wave of agreement that you should rest. I know you were excited for the comeback and all, but believe me. Recovering is more important than pushing yourself and getting to a possible breakdown afterwards. Take your time. We understand, and so do babyz, so does the rest really matter?"

Jongup really went out there, making Junhong's heart feel a little lighter about the situation. He smiled at his hyung again, and without any further conversation, started reaching for his crutches that were leaned against the side table.

"Junhong-ah, what are you doing-"

"The weather's so pretty today," Junhong said happily, already scooting even closer to the edge of the bed to get off, "You won't make me stay here all day, will you?"

It was when he said his farewells to Jongup that day that he noticed her again. Walking a little further in the distance, her profile of a goddess peaking out from between the branches of some bushes as she passed by them, her feet producing a light tapping sound against the cracked asphalt. Jongup was still shedding some last reassuring words, saying that Yongguk had promised to hop by tomorrow while Himchan had stated that he'll come around whenever his additional schedules wouldn't be that tight. Junhong managed to do as much as say his grateful goodbyes in reply, and watch Jongup leaving quietly as he himself leaned back on his crutches and stumbled down the same path beauty itself had walked down just a second earlier right after.

He had seen her around every now and then since he got here a week ago, after the most unfortunate night he’d had in his life so far. It felt quite crazy to him, to know he had been in hospital for a quarter of a month already, but that's what he got for thinking it was a good idea to go and drive around the streets of Seoul mid-night when he couldn’t fall asleep. He really couldn't have guessed that he'd get into a car crash with a drunk driver then and there, and would get himself into such issues because of simply wanting to be alone for one night.

But all he could recall now was the burning pain he felt in every single one of his bones when he lied all cramped up, thrown over the steering wheel of his beyond damaged car after the impact with the other vehicle. The flashing ambulance lights and the paramedics freeing him from the painful state just for him to realize he was in even more pain when moved around. The doctors and nurses rolling him off to get him stitched up in operation rooms. The whole of B.A.P basically throwing themselves at him once he was all fixed and doing all simultaneously - scolding him for getting in such a situation, promising to never ever leave him alone and unattended anymore, and saying how thankful they were than he was alright after all of that. His family was doing the same to him next thing he knew, and he didn’t even mind - he knew he deserved all the scolding, and was grateful for all the love.

But it was all just a memory now, and the only evidence left was his nastily broken leg that was bandaged up in tons of layers, with the bone having been cracked and split in various places vertically instead of horizontally, and the few stitches up his side that, thankfully, didn't hide an all too dark truth behind them - he indeed looked quite miserable on spot back then, but upon inspecting the wounds, it was thankfully announced that no life-threatening injuries were caused.

He was quite lucky, actually. It could have gone worse.

As he was remembering all of this now, he barely noticed as she took a turn to the left, seemingly heading to the quieter part of the hospital territory. He tried to stay silent and fell back a little, as if not wanting to disturb her. As if not wanting her to see him, since he thought he couldn't just walk up to her and say something crazy.

Something like "So, hey. I have actually been quite depressed about getting into a car crash days prior to my group's comeback, and getting shit from my company didn't help at all. But your pretty face and the way you were always quietly walking around and helping people whenever I looked out the window did help a lot. So did that one time when my incompetent ass had the crutches out of reach, and you were observant enough to notice that I was struggling and kind and caring enough to pass them to me accompanied with a subtle smile. You got me intrigued."

His mind also lingered at her that evening when he was lying in bed and browsing through his phone again, as he oftentimes did now at free times. Yongguk had texted, saying the time of his next day's visit, and after responding, Junhong simply put his phone down on his stomach, crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes.

Two more weeks. Two more weeks, and he'd be out of here. He knew more than well that those two weeks he had to still stay here weren't only because of his weirdly broken leg and his still mildly aching side - they were a story made up so that he wouldn’t feel bad and wouldn’t try to join schedules again as soon as possible, since the guys wanted him to properly recover first. They knew what was best for him, and that was resting.

The moonlight crept through the windows, and it attracted his attention. The shine was quite pretty, and his mind told him it would be a nice sight to witness while being a bit closer to the window. So, somehow stumbling to the desired desalination, he cracked the window open before sitting down on the sill and staring out, as well as wishing his room would've been located on a higher floor than the first, a bit closer to the source of light.

He saw something moving in the shadows not far away, and his eyes subtly followed the silhouette that was walking past. And, upon realizing who it was, his heart started beating just a little faster.

She was a little surprised to see a guy sitting on a window sill and just staring off somewhere the way he was, but as their eyes locked, she saw he had a lot on his heart and mind. And, despite any assumptions she had, as she'd been seeing him around here in the last week or so and he had always looked like a lovable dork, it was undeniable. Something was burdening his heart, and it could be seen in his sad eyes.

It was a start. A smile at each other, and a wave of his hand that she returned. A way to say that "Hey, I know we both ended up here for different yet probably unfortunate reasons. But you seem sad, and so do I, so maybe, just maybe, we could brighten each other's days a little."

"So, who is she?"

Was he being a creep? Hell, he hoped the kid he'd just casually struck up conversation with didn't think that way, though she didn't seem concerned about Junhong's presence at all, as to her, he probably resembled something among the lines of a kind giant. She was a lovely girl about the age of ten, her hair in two ponytails as she leaned back indefinitely to look at his face.

"A friend," she said, her walk much slower than it was before. He was still on his crutches after all, his movements rather slow and limited, so she showed some understanding and slowed her bouncy walk already a while ago, ever since Junhong saw her conversing, laughing and even hugging with the mysterious girl he'd been trying to chase since he got here before walking off and, well.. Bumping into himaccidentally.

"She is the best roommate I could imagine," the girl said in a happy manner, walking on the thin line that separated the grass from the pavement, "All the nurses are her old friends, even old Mrs. Kang who, in my opinion, doesn’t even remember how to smile, and so is everyone who ever got to know her! God, I want to be like her so much, she is so nice as a person-"

Something darkened in her face all of a sudden, but Junhong barely noticed, still completely mesmerized by the way the little girl talked about her. Though when he finally did, he furrowed his brows and decided to ask her about it.

"Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, I just remembered something!" she said frantically, her head snapping back and looking at the place she just came from, "I completely forgot that I took my kite out, since today looked promising enough to go and fly it! Oh god, I must've left it somewhere."

"No worries," Junhong was glad there wasn't an issue bigger than a simple kite, "Let's walk back to find it. I’m sure it’s still there."

"Are you sure I'm not disturbing you, mister?"

"Junhong. Just call me Junhong, "mister" sounds like I'm hella old already," he chuckled, and saw her face showing a little relief alongside amusement, "And honestly? I have absolutely nothing to do. Like nada. No plans and no ways to spend my free time. So I'd be glad to help."

Halfways through their walk back, a voice he recognized only faintly rang through the air.

"Jaeeun!"

He saw her in the distance, smiling and jogging over to them. Kite in hand and an eyes sparkling with happiness, or so it seemed.

"There it is!" Jaeeun happily received her missing item, smiling at the retriever of it, "You indeed are the best!"

Both girls smiled at each other before Jaeeun seemingly remembered about Junhong's existence, and upon turning to him, told him with a smile.

"See, Junhong? That's why I want to be like her. She is the absolute best."

"Oh shush, stop telling lies," her smile widened and her cheeks tinted a light shade of pink, which seemed adorable to him, "And remember that you have an appointment at three. Half an hour left, so I'd advise you to go and get ready."

"Okay, I guess you're right," Jaeeun admitted more to herself than anyone else, and next thing he knew, Junhong was left alone with her as Jaeeun ran off into the distance, thanking her one last time for finding the kite before vanishing.

"So, Junhong, huh?"

"I mean, what was I supposed to do? She kept calling me "mister" and I'm not ready to feel that old just yet," he smiled back at her cheekily, seeing how she chuckled in response. He was quite shy, but he figured she was even more shy than him. So upon getting an opportunity to speak, he decided to use it wisely.

"They doctors and nurses already call me Mr.Choi, so I'd love to be simply Junhong again."

She gave him another laugh and this opportunity, promising to call him by name rather than anything else. Giving him her name in return, which he engraved into his mind, loving the sound and feel of it.

"So, any particular reason for conversing with Jaeeun?" she said as they started to walk away, her steps careful next to Junhong who was trying to hold up as fast as he could on crutches.

"She kind of bumped into me earlier and then started apologizing like crazy. And then she remembered about leaving her kite somewhere, and we went looking for it," he said, not lying in the least. She did indeed not watch where she went, yet the bump was much milder than she thought. No damage caused - just a chance for him to find out more about the beautiful girl walking next to him now.

"Oh my, I will make sure to tell her to be a little more cautious when running around," she said, her brows furrowing a little, "That girl's got so much energy, I can barely keep up with her. Sorry if she caused inconvenience."

"No worries, actually, it made the day better," he said, making her raise a brow at him, an amused smirk on her face as she awaited explanation.

"How's that?"

"It's so boring around here, I swear," he whined, making her chuckle at how this lose to meter ninety guy in his early twenties sounded like a tiny, pouty kid, "I'm waiting for my hyung to come visit, but, like.. Before and after that, absolutely no fun. I just wit around, then lie around, and then get scolded for walking around too much."

"But you really shouldn't do that," she told him, her voice displaying a surprising amount of worry and concern, considering the fact he was still a stranger, "You should give your leg some rest.”

“Should I give it a break?”

She laughed out loud immediately at his play of words, her eyes wandering to scan over his amused facial expression, his smile indicating he thought he had just made the joke of the century. Which he kid of had, to her at least, as he had just managed to make himself come off as even more lovable than prior to this conversation. And it would be a lie to say she hadn’t admired him from afar already.

“No, don’t give it more breaks, it’s broken enough already. I heard you had your bone split and broken vertically, which is supposed to be much more painful than a regular broken bone-"

Her eyes widened as she realized she had said too much. He had immediately caught onto the fact she knew a piece of info about him that he hadn’t told her, meaning she got it from somewhere else as it wasn’t written down on a label and stuck to him, and he carefully watched her from the corners of his eyes, seeing as her cheeks flushed and her hand rose to clasp her mouth shut.

"So you've just randomly heard it around the place, hmm?"

"Well, I might have asked a nurse friend of mine after that one time I passed you the crutches, a few days ago.."

His heart fluttered at the fact he had caught her eye enough for her to actually want to find out about who he was. And seeing her blushing so much about it, he wanted to just tell her that it was alright. He didn't mind. In fact, he liked it.

"Thank you for that, by the way. I felt quite helpless back there."

Both of them chuckled, and as they neared around the corner of the hospital, he saw a familiar figure climbing down from a familiar Vespa.

"Yongguk-hyung!"

She jumped a little at his sudden outburst of happiness, and her stare trailed to where his had gone to just to notice a skinny guy getting off of a scooter, slowly turning to Junhong and replying to his energetic and hectic waves of his hand with a smaller, less noticeable wave back.

"That's the hyung you were talking about, right?"

Junhong looked down at her and smiled, his smile seeming so warm and inviting. Seeing it up so close was definitely much better than getting quiet glances of it from the distance.

"Yes. My oldest hyung, he's basically like a brother to me."

They both shared a few more neutral phrases paced around for a while, and from the corners of her eyes, she saw Yongguk approaching slowly but steadily.

"I guess I will go now then."

He looked back, a little confused, a little sad. But he quickly understood she felt out of place at this situation, and was understanding for her point of view and her desire not to disturb.

"Okay," was all he replied with, though as she had already turned on her heel and started slowly walking off, he turned to her quickly and blurted out.

"I'll see you around, right?"

She stopped a little and smiled, hoping he asked because he liked her company and not just to be polite, because she sure liked his, as it was mood-lifting and full of positivity.

"I mean, sure. You'll be lonely once again when your hyung leaves, so maybe I could keep you company.."

Yongguk had come with only good news. His backpack was full of gifts given to him or any of the other guys for Junhong by the fans at the recent fansigns, and he promised that the next one to come around to visit would be Daehyun, another two days from now, and he'd bring along Mochii, possibly Kanji as well. Though Junhong wasn't even sure if pets were allowed anywhere neat the hospital territory, he just hoped Daehyun accompanied by two dogs wouldn't be directed back home at the very first gate that lead into the territory. He really, really missed not only his hyungs, but also his dog.

He had to make it to an x-ray this same evening, and simply sat around inspecting what Yongguk had brought him up until then. He barely noticed how it had been hours already as the notification on his phone went off, and he sighed, pacing around and collecting a few things before heading out of the door and into another part of the hospital.

Once he came back, one more surprise awaited him, in the form of a note on the ground that had been slipped into the room through the little space under the door.

I’ll be free tomorrow at six. In case you have no plans and still feel lonely, I’ll be somewhere in the waiting room of your department. W could hang out or something.

Her handwriting was so pretty, and as his fingers traced over the letters of her name she had signed the paper with carefully, he couldn’t help but smile. She had gone all the way here to let him know she indeed wanted to spend some time to him. She had made the efforts to find out where his room was located in order to indeed see him around.

She was actually going to see him again.

He felt like an idiot for having come around half an hour earlier than planned, sitting around on the nearby sofa and patiently fiddling with his fingers at half past five already, but as she walked through the door at a quarter to six, their stares met immediately and their cheeks flushed a reddish shade rather simultaneously.

“And I thought I was early.”

“Well, you are,” he teased, seeing as she blushed even more, “But I was earlier, so I guess I should blush harder than you.”

He chuckled at her face showing indefinite surprise at his cheeky remark, but she took it as a compliment rather than judgement. She took it as him saying he really, really appreciated her coming earlier, as it showed she kind of cared. And he apparently did too.

“There’s more people here than I thought there’d be though, so how about we just go back to my room?”

She nodded quietly, and rushed to him immediately to help him stand up when he did so with mild troubles, as the new cast that had been put on his leg just the same morning felt about a ton heavier than the previous one. But he simply chuckled in reply, thanking her for her concerns and admiring the way she blushed as she realized she had just basically unintentionally thrown her arms all around him. Without further ceremonies, they went down the corridor to get to the desired room.

“Haven’t you mixed up departments, sweetie?”

She smiled kindly at the woman who had just greeted her, and judging by the badge that read “Head nurse, Mrs. Kang”, he assumed this was the never-smiling nurse Jaeeun had talked about, though she didn’t seem all that heartless at all. But maybe it was just because of the person whom she was talking to, as Junhong was certain that no one could have any hard feelings towards someone such as the girl accompanying him this evening.

“Same to you, Mrs. Kang. You have wandered far from your workplace too.”

“I had to get a few papers down to the main office, and just took a shortcut,” she eyed Junhong up and down carefully as he bowed to her a little politely, her brow rising at the sight of them together, “You seem to be here due to having found company elsewhere though.”

“Yes. This is Junhong, my company for the evening.”

“Nice to meet you, young man,” the nurse said before starting to head back to her department through her desired route, “May you two have fun on your date.”

As soon as the word “date” left the nurse’s lips, Junhong saw her yelping at it a little and looking lost beyond belief. And he wondered - was it the fact she didn’t want to deny the statement, or maybe the fact she wanted to deny it as much as possible? He decided to take his chances and risk it, as when they walked further down the corridor, he quietly asked her.

“When was the last time you actually went on a date?”

“Long ago,” her voice suddenly sounded all serious and maybe even melancholy-filled, “Before.. Before certain events happened in my life. Not that I remember all that clearly anymore.”

And quickly understanding that this would be a personal story reserved for her to reveal to him maybe at another time, he simply smiled down at her while unlocking the door to his room, and said.

“In that case I apologize, for this might be a quite unplanned date. As well as I apologize for just taking you to hang out in my room and nowhere fancy. But I’ll do better next time.”

It indeed felt like some weird type of date. For hours upon hours, they were seated on his bed, chatting the time away and laughing at lame jokes. He showed her all the things Yongguk had brought along, bragging about having the best fans and, upon realizing she didn’t catch on or didn’t really know if he was being serious at first, had to explain what he did for a living. She ended up being mesmerized by his stories, even more by his songs, as well as ended up telling him her plans, and the different things that lied in her dreams of the future, and upon listening, he indeed had to admit he was amazed by her. By how fondly she talked of all her dreams, and how determined she was to reach them. As she had been talking for what seemed to be dozens of minutes at once already, she suddenly got quiet upon seeing his dreamy eyes and his longing stare that was directed at her.

“I’m.. I’m sorry.”

“What for?” he questioned, mild confusion displayed in his eyes as he saw her biting her lip and looking down on her hands that were resting on her lap.

“I’m sorry for just, you know.. Babbling so much. I can sometimes be quite inconsiderate of others unintentionally, I doubt you wanted to hear all of that-”

“No, I did,” she stilled all of a sudden when she felt his hands landing on top of hers, the warmth they offered seeming oh so inviting. Her eyes met with his again, and she saw no hard feelings in his stare. In fact, his eyes were sparkling to some extent. They seemed encouraging and as genuine as they could be.

“To be completely honest, I really like your company,” he couldn’t say this bit to her face though, and turned away as he still felt the shyness creeping up and taking over his abilities to strike up a normal conversation, “And whatever you’re comfortable to tell me, you can, you know.. Actually tell me.”

“So you’re saying I could pull out my phone and show you a gallery full of cat pictures commenting every single one and you’d still be interested?” she chuckled, quickly understanding her wrong use of the word “interested”. She meant it as in “interested into conversing”, though it came out as her questioning if he was interested into her as a whole. Though, seeing how his smile unfolded, she felt as if nothing could go wrong at this point. She had just met him yesterday, though he had already managed to make himself feel like a safe zone which she could go to whenever she desired.

“Only if I can pull out my own gallery with dozens of pictures of my dog in response,” she laughed, and smiled to herself as she heard him saying quietly.

“You can show me whatever. I feel like I’ll genuinely always be interested.”

It was more than just flattering, and whenever she glanced at Junhong, she indeed felt her heartbeat increasing a little. He was clearly in for conversation, in for getting to know her. He was clearly interested.

But for the rest of the evening, she kept on worrying about how interested he would still be if she told him the complete truth. If he knew what department her room was located in, if he knew her reasons for being here, as over the time, this hospital had become more like a home to her than he knew or she liked to admit, and she feared he would see her in a different, more pitiful light if he indeed found out what she was suffering from.

Two weeks flew by faster than he thought they would, and he felt much more mobile and free at moving around when he was scanning all over the room for the last time to see if he hadn’t forgotten anything here. His duffel bag thrown over his shoulder as he leaned on one crutch instead of two now, he felt a light tap to his shoulder from behind that indicated he had to go.

“I’m ready whenever you’re ready,” Youngjae who had come to pick him up and drive him back home announced, holding another one of Junhong’s bags in his hand, “Let’s go.”

He walked through the corridor, feeling as if he would weirdly miss this. For the last two weeks, his world had been turned upside down, and until recently he never knew that a single person could stir such emotions inside of him.

But that’s the power she had over him, and part of the power she had over everyone here, really, as once he befriended her, he saw how much better she was than he thought previously - not that he ever though bad of her. How anyone who engaged into conversation with her seemed just a tad bit more hopeful afterwards, no matter their initial bad thoughts and conditions. How she didn’t fear people because of their injuries or illnesses, and didn’t put a label on anyone prior to knowing them. She was so, so nice, and as he recalled all the late evening talks they’ve had almost every night for the last two weeks, he knew he would miss them.

And upon leaving she was the last thing he saw. Standing and waving at him silently, waiting for him to come up to say something. Something good, preferably, which he indeed did, giving her an embrace and making her blush as his nose stroked against her ear and he whispered to her, so that no one but she would hear.

“I did promise you that second date, right? The fancy one, if you remember. So how about next time we meet I’ll take you out for dinner?”

“I’d love to,” she admitted, and felt him pressing a barely-there kiss to her temple as a thank you.

“Thank you for getting me through the dull days. I was really in need for such company,” he said before pulling away and slowly departing, and as she watched him leaving through the doors with Youngjae who was already bugging him about who this mysterious girl he was all cuddly with just now was, she felt tears brimming at her eyes, though she didn’t let them slide over her cheeks.

What would he think of her once he found out?

He was actually unable to function as he finally heard it. On top of that, from no other that Jaeeun.

“She is where?”

“Getting treatment,” Jaeeun repeated it as if it was the most normal thing in the world, her legs dangling over the edge of the chair she was sitting on. Her curious glance met Junhong’s pained expression, and as soon as she realized he didn’t catch on, she wanted to clarify.

“Hadn’t she told you?”

“N-no, she hadn’t..” Junhong’s glance wandered over and across the floor, his heart clenching and shattering into pieces with every passing second that Jaeeun kept talking on.

“That’s how we first met, actually,” she remembered with a smile, “I was directed here from the children’s department, and since she was alone and without a roommate at that time, she was kind enough to let me stay with her. My parents say it is a good thing I got paired up with her. They said she was nice and responsible, and would be a good influence. My mom actually even became good friends with her. They always talk a lot when they meet.”

Half the information went past his ears as he stared down at the ground, and tried to recall a time she had possibly mentioned it. Hinted it, maybe, though he couldn’t recall the conversation going this way like ever. When they first met, she never told him why she was at hospital too. Hell, he didn’t even know what department she was in back then, as they always spent time in his room and never in hers. And he also never asked just because he saw she didn’t really want to share, and he was polite by giving her privacy.

“Say, Jaeeun,” his voice cracked slightly, to which she gave him an alarmed glance, “What.. What else do you know about it?”

Jaeeun said she didn’t know all that much, as her companion had never been all that vocal about her health condition. Even on her worst days, she would smile through the tragedy and sadness and always come back from appointments, check-ups and treatments in a good mood. Even when others would cry at the situations she went through, she would quietly say it was nothing instead, and would focus on other’s issues not to think about her own. Turns out even on the day when Jaeeun wanted to fly the kite she had gone through morning treatment, and it hurt Junhong to know how he was so, so clueless about all of the pain she had to go through back then.

And as her footsteps filled the hallway, he hoped he wouldn’t let her see him crying, because he sure felt like it.

“J-junhong-ah, what are you d-doing here?”

“I came to pick you up and drive you home,” he said quietly, not looking her in the eyes, “Forgive me for invading your private plans, but.. You left your planner on my kitchen table yesterday, open on this week’s page. An appointment was written in there, and..”

And what?

He was so concerned when he saw it, a thousand different possibilities running through his head. Back when he had actually taken her out on their first real date, she told him she had one more week left at the hospital before she would be free to go home. And ever since then, life seemed to be normal. They were just regular people. Setting up meetings with each other at places they desired, slowly yet steadily falling in love with each other. Exchanging feelings, eventually sharing a first kiss, then another one and a few more. Starting to call each other sweet names, realizing this was for real. Realizing that what they shared now was a relationship. Realizing they didn’t want it any other way. Like ever.

And through all of this, she showed no signs of health issues whatsoever - not that she let him know of any, at least. And it scared him to the last bone when he actually flipped through her planner upon seeing the lone writing about the appointment, just to find many more identical ones all through the planner. He cared too much not to find out what was wrong after seeing all of that.

“.. And I wanted to see what it was that you had seemingly been hiding from me all this time.”

She didn’t budge, and poor Jaeeun took turns to look at both of you, her head turning from right to left and from left to right as she tried to formulate a fitting and appropriate sentence.

“Junhong, please, don’t be mad at her,” the girl said, seeing as she stood a few feet away still, her eyes threatening to spill some tears as they refused to look back at Junhong, “She simply didn’t want to upset you. She didn’t mean any bad-”

“I know,” Junhong finally said, rising up to his feet slowly, “I know that. I am not mad or anything either. I’m just.. Taken aback.”

Her hand landed in his, and saying quiet farewells to Jaeeun, they walked through the hospital hallways and out of the building in silence, with Junhong walking half a step ahead from her and not sparing her a single glance. Through their ride home, not a single thing changed, and she felt so empty and hollow while looking out of the passenger seat’s windows, seeing as lamp posts, buildings and people flew by as they drove down some busy streets. She felt like her life was flying by now the same way as well as she wondered what would come. Wondered what he would tell her now.

As they stepped through the doorway of her apartment, they didn’t say a single word to each other while taking off their shoes and hanging up their jackets. Her heart was still aching from this silence he offered her, and as tears threatened to spill once again, she turned to face him and asked him quietly.

“Please, Junhong-ah. Don’t hate me, I.. I really meant to tell you, but..”

His arms wrapped around her without hesitation, securing her in place as he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. And as the tears finally started coming, he carefully wiped all of them away from her cheeks with his thumbs, swinging their frames from side to side and filling the empty void inside their hearts with unconditional love and affection, since he felt like nothing else could fix it at that point. Since he felt like he has had enough time to process the first load of info, and simply wanted to ask her to know the rest, since he cared about her, and wanted only the best for her.

“I could never hate you,” he told her quietly, looking right into her eyes as his thumbs still traced over her cheeks, “Okay? Don’t you ever think I could possibly hate you, especially because of such reasons..”

They spent the afternoon tangled up on her couch, thin blanket over their intertwined bodies as the afternoon sun peaked through the closed blinds and tried to get in their eyes. He had requested her to tell him everything, but only if she felt comfortable with it. And had pleaded her to at least tell him the main situation if she didn’t want to go into details, so he wouldn’t be completely in the blue. Because he cared about her and loved her, and wanted to help her in case he could somehow.

She told him how it started. How and when she heard the diagnosis for the first time, and how it had been hell at the start. How she spent her nights worrying about what was to come, withstanding pitiful glances of people she knew and hearing encouraging words that didn’t encourage her at all. How she hated the fact everyone saw her for her issue and not for who she was ever since she was diagnosed with cancer, and how what hurt the most was to see the pain in her relatives and friend’s eyes.

“I saw so many pained faces, and all of a sudden, I felt like I was a disappointment,” she kept fiddling with her hands, surprised at how it poured out of her like a waterfall while he quietly listened, “I felt as if I was hurting less than the people around me, because in case things went wrong for me, I mean.. I wouldn’t be there to witness it all. But they would see it first-hand, and would feel all bad and devastated, and..”

She sighed, and he pulled her into his chest. For a while, they lied in silence, with his hands carefully cradling her body, his fingers running over her sides in calming motions that indicated she could take all the time she needed. He was a patient listener and could wait for a moment.

“You know, it’s quite stupid, but.. I saw you back in the hallway for the first time as I passed from one department to another, and couldn’t quite take my eyes off of you,” she chuckled a little, at this point feeling like she wanted to tell him absolutely everything, “I had just lived through a rather hard phrase regarding treatment and staying positive and stuff, had been in hospital for longer than I wanted to admit. And let me tell you, never have I seen a guy like you there.”

“Someone so big yet helpless since my crutches were out of reach and I was flailing around with my arms aimlessly?”

She laughed a little, moving closer to him as he chuckled too, and despite the hard topic, she felt the atmosphere around them brightening a little, “Kind of. But what I meant to say, someone with such curious and bright eyes. It kind of reminded me of what I had promised myself to do ever since the diagnose. Hospitals are a dull place. White walls and pained faces everywhere. And though I had promised myself to not let a diagnose bother me when it came to living to the fullest, having been in hospital did drain my spirit a lot. But seeing you back then reminded me of how I wanted to be happy. How I had promised myself that.”

“And then we talked, and you were so nice, and.. I liked you so much from day one,” he smiled at that, remembering how it was all the same to him. How her smile alone had already mesmerized him enough for him to develop a desire to get to know her.

“But I still remembered how the word “cancer” always stuck into people’s imaginations and memory better than my name, and, besides, I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to feel pitiful towards me, or to see me simply as another patient. I wanted you to see me as me, and not someone beat up by their illness. I wanted you to genuinely like me and not be simply polite because I was having a hard time and you’re made of sunshine.”

He understood her reasoning perfectly. It was crystal clear to him, her desire to not tell him so he wouldn’t draw assumptions or conclusions before he got to know how amazingly beautiful inside and out she was. Strong-willed, strong-spirited, kind and positive.

“I didn’t want to hear the regular stuff about keeping on going through the battle, it’s kind of repetitive and has lost it’s meaning along the way anyways. I didn’t want you to think I was weak and helpless either, I just..”

“..I kind of wanted to simply seem normal to you. And wanted you to love me normally. And, well, I guess I was also being selfish, because, forgive me for thinking bad of you, but.. I wasn’t quite sure you’d want to love me at all if you knew I had cancer.”

She felt him pressing a kiss on top of her head, to which she closed her eyes and patiently waited for his reply. And quietly exhaled when the question he eventually asked was a simple yet important one.

“How bright does the future look?”

“Promising,” she told him quietly, feeling how his lips curled into a tiny smile, “It’s moving forwards slowly, but it’s getting better. The treatment’s been successful for now, no complications or anything anywhere, so.. I’m positive about it.”

“..Good, because I’ve planned a whole happy-ever-after for both of us, which involves me loving you unconditionally through all your ups and downs from now on and until forever. And whatever might try to take it away from us won’t quite work.”

She stayed close to him like this, feeling all tired and sleepy because of all the shaken up feelings from earlier. And just like that, to the sound of him telling her how he understood why she stayed silent about it, how this didn’t change his perception of her and how she could always count on him for anything, she drifted off to sleep, seeing the scene of how they first met in her vivid dreams while he simply held her, thinking of the future and eventually falling asleep himself as well.

“You’re here!”

Jaeeun flung her tiny arms around her neck as she knelt down to pick her up, and spun the little girl around a few times, their joyful laughter mixing up in the air and attracting the attention of others nearby.

“I promised I would come to see you after your last doctor’s visit, right?” she smiled at the little girl, “You’re a free, independent woman now. I wanted to be there to witness that happening.”

Junhong stood just a few feet away from them, unable to hide his own smile away from these two. What had initially brought them together was their issue and condition, as they shared the same painful truth and diagnosis. But what they shared now as well was a positive outcome - Jaeeun’s cancer had been retreating efficiently, and today was her final day after another round of hospital visits before she was free to go home and start leading a normal life again.

“You were there after my last visit, after all, right?”

Junhong remembered it clearly. How, despite anything she’d ever told him about her living to the fullest and trying to pay less to no attention to her sickness when it came to living her life the same way like she used to, she has never looked more joyful than after leaving the doctor’s office with nothing but good news. How she smiled as he held her tightly, and mumbled about how the nightmare was going to be over. How she wouldn’t hurt anyone anymore, to which he told her that she should think not only about others, but about herself sometimes as well. To which, once again, she looked up at him, and sweetly told him that he would put her first in case she wouldn’t, and his love had been enough for her to become happy once again. Telling him how he made her remember her objectives, made her want to stick to them, and to realize the always had support right there by her side.

Jaeeun’s patents soon came from around the corner, and upon polite and upbeat small talk with them, Junhong together with her watched their silhouettes walking down the hallways, Jaeeun walking hand in hand with her parents and looking all around for what seemed to be the last time for a much longer period of time.

“I’m so happy for her.”

Junhong quietly hummed in agreement, his arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer to his side. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and for a while they simply stared down the corridor, remembering all kinds of things.

“You’re in the wrong department again, sweetie.”

She turned around to the familiar voice of Mrs. Kang, smiling ear-to-ear and bowing politely at her, saying her greetings and how glad she was to see her and to know she was doing alright.

“You two are quite inseparable now, I see,” she eyed the way Junhong was holding her carefully and lovingly down in a curious fashion, “Still helping him to get around? That’s what you initially wanted when you asked me about him for the first time, right? Just to help him a little, since he looked quite clumsy and clueless on how to even use crutches.”

At this point, Junhong’s loving laughter was already piercing through the air, and without looking down at her he already knew she was blushing a lot.

“He wasn’t really supposed to know that...”

“Well, too bad, the gossiper in me just said it out loud,” Mrs. Kang smiled at them one last time before leaving them to return to her duties, “Young man, treasure her well, please. She is a sweetheart who sure deserves it.”

“I will!” he shouted out before being left alone with her, feeling how she hid her blushing face in his chest.

“Mystery solved,” he kissed the top of her head as his arms wrapped around her, “Now I know how you knew about my weirdly cracked bones. And the room number and everything..”

She offered silence in return, her face nuzzling deeper into his chest. So adorable and shy, it was how she first looked to him. So head-spinningly sweet and lovable he had a hard time not telling her flat-out.

“Nothing to be ashamed of though. After all, I liked you too.’’

And as she looked up at him, he didn’t hesitate to press a kiss on her slightly agape mouth, and smiled at her before stating the obvious.

“And now I don’t even just like you anymore. I love you. And you better love me back in return, or I’ll be really, really sad otherwise.”

“I do, you fool,” she laughed out, and as their hands intertwined to walk back out of the hospital building, she couldn’t help but think that not every experience of hers related to this place had been bad.

She met him at this hospital, and he was by far one of the best things that had ever happened to her. And as she felt his hand that was placed into hers tugging her along, she figured she never wanted to let go. Not that he would ever let that happen anyways, as by the looks of it, he was leading her off to that happy-ever-after he had promised her before, his steps feather-light and his heart full of unconditional love and support which he all reserved for her.

Guiding her from the very first moment they met, and forever from now on.

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