#to rain their kindness down upon me and point out my stupid sleep deprived snorting chilaois mistakes that i almost assuredly made

[chewchuck]

can’t believe i truly went into like a state of insanity and feverishly wrote 11k super self indulgent freak porn while staying awake for 36 hours straight. and also continued to just go about my life. who am i.

[ethertae]

When it rains, it pours | 01 (myg)

When it rains, it pours | 01 - Min Yoongi

beautiful moodboard by @cafelunes (thanks so much, Lina)

⇢ pairing: reader x yoongi (ft. Hoseok)

⇢ word count: 5.2 k

⇢ summary: “Hoseok is iridescent, and Yoongi is shimmering – two stars, with you at their orbit”. or you are miserably in love with your brother’s best friend.

⇢ genre: angst (lots and lots of it), series of five or six parts (was supposed to be a oneshot but eh). Even though the premise of this fic revolves around the reader being in love with Yoongi, it is not the main focus of the story. Hoseok is just as important to the plot than the other characters.

⇢ warnings: Y/N is depressed, and a lot of the themes in this are heavy, this fic might weigh you down a lot after a while.

Realization had fallen while you sat on a hospital bench, sleep-deprived and irritated to the brim. With worried parents at your side, and Hoseok in a hospital bed, the only thing you could think of was ways to further break your brother’s leg.

It hadn’t been the first time, that in a silly brawl, Hoseok had managed an injury. You rushed to the hospital, all scared out of your minds, till the reason for his admission was revealed. If they had just arrested his ass, maybe he would have finally learned his lesson, but in a small town like yours, understandings were quickly met.

Reverie now broken, a voice, like an angel, reverent and jovial spoke amidst the deafening silence, “Hey!”

No sooner was the word out, that you waved to greet Yoongi with a cheesy smile. It had been raining, and as he shook the wetness from his grey hair, he shot your parents an apologetic grin.

“Sorry for all the trouble, Hoseok didn’t mean to start any of it.”

At that, you snorted, rubbing your hands down your thighs out of boredom. Yoongi settled next to you and took something out from his jacket pocket, “here, I got your text, I think it’s a little soggy now, but –“

Enveloped in a small plastic bag was the hot dog you had asked for, “thank you!”

“So, how does being 16 feel? Sorry, I didn’t get to come to your birthday party - Hoseok told me you were flirting with boys.”

Yoongi’s teasing tone made you slow your chewing, “I was not!”

Humming absentmindedly, he leaned against the tiled wall and sighed, “your brother is really dumb.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure, you were there right along side of him, whispering encouragements in his ear.”

“Where did you get that mouth from?”

“From you.”

“Ah, learned from the best, I see.”

“Definitely.”

Your parents spoke in hushed whispers, and while you tried to hone in on their conversation, Yoongi patted your leg.

“Hm?”

“When did you grow so much?” The words were void of emotion, a mirror to his expression.

“What do you mean?”

“Just yesterday, you were four, and Hoseok and I were nine,” he paused, “we teased you till you cried and you ended up throwing a sand bucket in his face.”

“Yeah?”

“My point is, where did time go? Twelve years have flown by, and well, I don’t know – I’m just speaking, nonsense.”

“You sound like a grandpa.”

“I’m older than I look.”

Yoongi was a strange individual, and while you pondered if he had changed in the years you knew him, interestingly enough, he hadn’t at all. He was always found with a sense of longing in his eye, a sentiment of loss even he couldn’t explain.

But, as you stared at him that day, in the buzzing hospital, a feeling warmed your chest. To you, Yoongi was beautiful, and at the time, you tried convincing yourself it was a result of the hormonal splurge you were experiencing. No, it hadn’t been that. It started from there, the simple stutter of a heart, which grew to your misery.

Four years later and not much has changed, other than the fact that you are spending your twentieth birthday alone. While your friends tried to push you into going out with them, you were adamant on staying home for the occasion. It would be to self reflect you convinced yourself, however you have come to regret your decision. Sitting down in front of a stupid reality show, whilst eating cake, is a lot sadder than you thought it would be.

Lately, things haven’t been going well. Life has become a cycle that, somedays, you wish to get out of. The burden that is to breathe has finally weighed you down, and perhaps, you haven’t been the only one to notice. Your appearance at social events become a rare sight, and the excuses that you tell are all but the same.

You sigh and take a fork full of cake, “happy birthday to me.”

The time when birthdays were something you looked forward to, is long passed. Now, you consider them to be yet another year of suffering, or to stay positive, a year closer to fulfillment.

At least the cake is good.  

You lick the frosting from the corner of your lips, before turning off the TV. The bird clock Hoseok got for your 18th birthday can be heard again, and you stare as it slowly ticks passed 8. Speaking of your brother, he usually sent a text by now. You guess he simply forgot – he’s been so busy.

Half way through the patisserie, you put down your fork and close the box. Fulness is a feeling you don’t appreciate at night, and since you’re tired, sleeping seems like the right thing to do. You drag your feet to the cold kitchen tiles and place the patisserie in the fridge. As you retire to your bedroom, the doorbell rings.

You stand still, hoping for the person to go away, and it’s quiet, until – “shit face, open up! I know you’re there!”

Upon hearing your brother’s voice, you sigh and walk towards the door.

“What do you want, Hoseok?”

The smile on his face is almost alarming, and you huff when he tackles you with a hug. Indeed, he is a very affectionate person, and normally, you would be the first to receive his excessive need for skinship, however tonight –

“What do you mean ‘what do I want’? It’s my baby sister’s birthday, and she’s here spending it alone like a sad little old lady.” He pats your cheek, and you smack his hand away with a groan.

It takes you several seconds to notice the shadowed figure behind your brother, and you stand on your toes to get a better look.

“Yoongi?”

The man in question steps closer and places a hand on his friend’s shoulder. His lips hold a lilt, and your heart stutters just like it has for the last 5 years. “Your brother said he was going to visit, then I remembered it was your birthday, so I tagged along.”

You smile and look at your brother again, “why are you guys still standing in the doorway, come in.”

Hoseok shrugs off his coat and throws it over a chair, “geez, you have to clean this place.”

He picks a pizza box off of the floor and winces, closing it quickly. “You really have to…”

The last time you saw them was a little over a month ago, when you weren’t so overwhelmed with exams. Hoseok and your parents had wanted to get dinner, a kind of family reunion. Youremember it being a nice evening, well until Hoseok insisted on hitting the bars. He called up Yoongi, the tweedle dee to his tweedle dum – of course, you all got kicked out. While you didn’t find it funny at all, both of them spent the rest of the night in hysterics.

It has always amazed you, how a reserved person like Yoongi, becomes a crazed baboon whenever in the presence of Hoseok. Funny thing, you think, that Yoongi needs Hoseok to come out of his shell, and still, has tranquilizing abilities on your hyperactive brother. Complementary, yet different.

“How did you end up like this? You know how I spent my twentieth birthday?”

You scoff, “in jail.”

“Hey, it wasn’t a real jail, and that’s beside the point! At least, I was having fun. Why are you here, moping around? Do you have no friends? What about that girl Lisa, I thought you guys hung out.”

He regards you seriously, awaiting whatever type of excuse you can pull out of your ass. “I am the one who decided to spend my birthday alone,” your eyes wander to where Yoongi takes a seat beside Hoseok. His thin lips are pursed, and he remains still, albeit fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

Hoseok stays quiet for a few seconds, before smiling. Your brother is many things, including his perception, and you know that in that small moment, he had figured you out. The smile, it seems, is mostly reserved for himself, and the next thing he says, does anything but surprise you.

“I see…”

You have always been like this. When have you not been? Your sadness is a crippling rose, and now, it has bloomed. At least, that is how Hoseok sees it, ever the mind reader.

Yoongi is quick to grow bored of his activity and speaks, “should we go out and celebrate?”

The other grins, “Remember Jin?”

He ponders a moment, then nods slowly. Hoseok continues, “well, apparently he’s having the grand opening of his nightclub tonight.”

“Are we talking about Jin from highschool?”

“Yeah.”

“Hoseok – he hated us.”

Your brother suddenly laughs. He had forgotten how much that uptight kid wished their death. “Well, we’re adults now. I think we’ve all moved past highschool.”

“I think you’re forgetting what assholes we were.”

A smile breaks you from your thoughts, “you really were dickheads.”

“You would follow us everywhere though,” Yoongi comments with a grin.

“Right, she was always lurking in the shadows.”

Hoseok mimics a younger you, Yoongi laughs, and you love. Then, it’s a blur of passing cars and fading lights. Youth cheers and brings forth life, and your brother is just another part of it.

“Cheer up, Y/N! It’s your birthday!”

The city, at night, is cold and bitter. Nothing about the mass of young bodies disillusions you from the dull streets. To you, the only people to generate light are Hoseok, and Yoongi.

Over the years, hiding your love for him has become easy. As a teenager, you had mistaken it for infatuation or lust – in your mind you had been too young to know what love was. But over time, when your feelings grew, it had been so complicated to conceal them. Everything he did, from his laugh to his strange habits, made you buckle.

Now, you are so used to the kind burn that comes with his presence, that it is of second nature. You glance at the couple ahead. Hoseok is boisterous and Yoongi is attentive, all smiles.

The city, at night, is peaceful. Under artificial lights and youthful gazes, Hoseok feels at ease. A world which he can make his own. He pears at you over his shoulder and slings his arm over Yoongi’s. Distance has painted your canvas black and white.

“Pst, midget! Hurry up.”

Your step quickens, and soon, the three of you walk side by side. It is quiet for a moment, save for the wet music of Hoseok’s shoes against the pavement. You savor it.

“We’re almost there, just a block away.”

The time it takes to get there passes in a blur. Women and men alike, line up in hopes of entering the new upscale club. You close your eyes a moment and sigh. Hoseok’s bad ideas are bound to drag you into the mud one of these days.

Yoongi nudges you, “relax, it can’t be any worse than all the other times.”

“You’ve a got a point there.”

Hoseok taps his foot impatiently, and the repetitive motion interrupts your thoughts. Behind a group of smokers, you all stand at the very back of the line. A few minutes tick by, before he rudely grabs your wrist, “come on, we’re going in front.”

You pull him back, “we can’t just cut in!”

“No, silly, we’re not cutting in. We’re invited.”

Yoongi joins in with an amused smile, “I really don’t think we are, hobi…”

“We’ll tell them we know the owner.”

Not a semblance of shame can be seen on Hoseok’s sharp features, as he tugs you along to the front. Habit has made it that you no longer oppose his strange decisions, nor bother thinking of them. Life, in his eyes, is ephemeral, and time is too scarce: ‘don’t worry, be happy’. The lyric echoes soundly in your mind, a distant memory.

“Hello,” Hoseok starts, “we’re on the list.”

The bouncer sighs, “name?”

“Jung Hoseok.”

Yoongi places a hand on your shoulder.

“Your name isn’t on here.”

He stifles laughter.

Your brother feigns surprise, “that’s strange – maybe it’s under the name Jung Y/N?”

The repetitive instance in which you find yourselves quickly escalates, as the bouncer catches on to Hoseok’s game. His beady eyes narrow, and Hoseok’s smile falters. You are about to intervene, when Yoongi suddenly speaks, “Kim Seokjin!”

Hoseok mutters a quick thanks and loosens the grip he had on Yoongi’s hand. A tall man whips his head, full lips and combed hair. First, he tilts it, and a beat passes, before – epiphany. He heads your way, and Hoseok’s stiff posture visibly relaxes.Highschool is in the past; how petty could Kim Seokjin be?

“Seokjin, how have you –“

The man’s derisive snort interrupts any attempt at making small talk, “Well, well: Jung Hoseok, and Min Yoongi, together as always. Nothing much has changed for you guys, huh?”

You notice the way his lips twitch in a sneer, and it’s unsettling for such gentle traits. At your side, Hoseok shifts. On rare occasions is he ever at a loss for words, and under Kim Seokjin’s scrutiny, he curses himself for it.

“How long has it been, 7 years? Highschool was a while ago,” the man glances at Yoongi, “indeed, haven’t changed one bit.”

As the four of you stand there, facing each other, you wonder what your brother could have done to bring about such hatred. Silence stretches on, then Hoseok sighs.

“Look, Jin. We’re all adults now, as you said Highschool was 7 years ago. It’s way behind us –“

“Yeah, sure. Don’t bullshit me, Hoseok. You just want to get into my nightclub, and there’s no way that’s happening.”

“Oh, come on,” Hoseok laughs, “it’s my baby sister’s birthday!”

Seokjin shakes his head in disbelief, “you really haven’t changed, have you? Shameless as always.”

Your brother has always had thick skin, it is so easy for him to brush things off. So instead of taking Seokjin’s comment at heart, he grins: “Ya bet!”

Highschool was indeed long ago, and as Seokjin stares at your luminescent brother, a feeling uglier than bitterness rises within him. Jealousy and discontent have reached him too, and it’s visible in the curl of distaste he directs at Hoseok. It’s strange, you find, to see someone act so miserably human.

“You really have no boundaries, do you? You both come here like the universe is your oyster, with no sense of past mistakes, and no consideration whatsoever. This is real life, you can’t just pull crap like this. This is not highschool. Grow the fuck up, Jung Hoseok!”

It saddens you that anger isn’t there, as it should be. A younger you would have jumped to defend him, but this stranger is right, and Hoseok, better than anyone, knows it. “Ha, I forgot how easily riled up you get, Seokjin. You haven’t changed all that much either,” he pats the man’s shoulder.

“Just leave.”

Yoongi for a second time, holds your brother’s hand in discreet affection and moral support. From the corner of your eye, you notice and smile; afterall, they have always been the best of friends.

Hoseok is iridescent, and Yoongi is shimmering – two stars, with you at their orbit. Laughter and foolery echo in the dim street, but his smile is treacherous. Thick skin can only be so thick, and at moments, hurtful words only serve to thin it. To the public, however, he is unfading light.

Wind cards itself in your hair, a soothing whisper and gentle caress. Nothing can break him, he is unyielding – it is nice to think it. Hoseok’s strands sway as he walks in time with the simple beat Yoongi produces. When they are here, smiling is so easy. Meaning, when they are here, you feel is attainable.

“Y/N, you’ve met Namjoon, right?”

You nod, “yeah, a few times actually.”

Hoseok ponders your answer, then laughs, “true, I forgot!”

Namjoon’s apartment is where you are headed, you conclude. A bright person with peculiar taste, is what you recall him to be. He never spoke to you much and if he did, it was merely formalities. However, when you did happen to converse, it was genuine and benign.

“Oh, and give Taehyung a break, it’s only friendly flirting, he does it with everyone.”

You make a face to which Hoseok laughs and roughly smacks your shoulder. With a wince, you soothe the spot your brother assaulted. It now occurs to you that Yoongi is the only friend of Hoseok’s that you truly know. At this thought, you lift your eyes to stare at him. He is looking at his friend with the tiniest of a smile and it brings you back to their many years of camaraderie.

“Do you think Jungkook will be there? Haven’t seen him in a while… Apparently he’s still hung up on that girl.”

Yoongi just shakes his head and sighs, “Jin is right, some things never change.”

This has Hoseok barking out a laugh and lunging to wrap his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders in a bid to keep himself upright. Moments like these, you grip your sides in an embrace, do they only belong to others?

Your brother snaps his fingers and grins when you startle, “Y/N, look alive!”

You offer him a small smile and avert your interest to the group of girls who laugh on the opposing sidewalk. They are beautiful, you think. Drunk on life and youth – things that escape you. Hoseok notices how you stare at them and stays silent.

His barren smile stands. For you and me, both.

Before long, you all stand in front of Namjoon’s apartment door. Yoongi huffs in annoyance and brings a hand to his chest. “All those fucking stairs, goddamn it!”

Hoseok lifts his hand and raps his knuckles against the chipped door in quick successions. Voices can be heard in the apartment, along side a heavy tread that grows in sound the closer it gets. The first thing you are greeted with as the door swings open, are Namjoon’s surprised eyes.

“Hey, what are guys doing here?”

He leans in to hug both Hoseok and Yoongi, before swaying to the side. Only then does he notice you, “oh, hey! Didn’t see you there.”

He gestures warmly inside his home where your brother and Yoongi have already thrown their coats haphazardly on an armchair. Upon entering the apartment, you note the slight changes made since you were here last. The imposing painting that hung above the couch is no longer there: you remember staring at it when you were bored once.

“Go fucking put some pants on, Taehyung. My sister is here.”

Hoseok nudges his friend, who sits on the beige couch with his legs spread and controller in hand. At your brother’s words, Taehyung lifts his head and smiles at you – “Hey, Y/N!”

“Hey.”

You make way into the living-room and sit crosslegged on the carpet. Taehyung presses play on his game, feet now on top of the coffee table where your fingers twiddle mindlessly.

Hoseok smacks the back of his younger friend’s head as a reminder, “I told you to get changed, asshole.”

“Alright, alright!”

As the boy leaves, grumbling under his breath, you give Hoseok a pointed look. “You know this is his home, right?”

“Your point?”

With a sigh, you ignore him and focus your attention instead on the potted plant near the TV – it’s ivy. You have always liked these plants, long and dark in color. As you continue to stare, lithe fingers reach for the leaves and pet them delicately. Your eyes trail up the person’s arm until they land on a face, one with a slender nose and pale, thin lips: Yoongi.

His doe eyes study the plant, mouth pressed in a tight line, and when your brother calls him, he hums. “Namjoon is calling us to the kitchen.”

“Alright,” he drops his hand from the vine and follows Hoseok to the room they are needed in. In passing, he offers you a small smile and ruffles your hair gently. At the contact, you close your eyes, breath releasing in an almost somber shudder when he leaves.

You keep them shut only a little while longer.

The sound of clunky shoes grace your ears, and you peel your lids back out of curiosity. A young man, one can guess around the age of Taehyung, removes Hoseok and Yoongi’s jackets from the armchair and throws them in a corner. Hair tousled and lip pierced with a ring, he slouches back onto the back rest. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you recall Hoseok having mentioned a friend who dresses as if he were in constant mourning.

“Jungkook, geez, were you taking a shit in there?”

Taehyung sits back on the couch, clad in sweatpants at Hoseok’s request. He awaits Jungkook’s reply, and upon realizing he is not getting one, makes himself comfortable. The glance sent your way is amused, and when he speaks, his voice titters on a laugh.

“Hey, you alright there? You’re zoning into another dimension right now.”

His smile, however, fades once he sees your detached response. So, instead of asking again, he simply hands you another controller to his game of Assassin’s Creed – “Wanna play?”

You politely decline and shift to face the window, much like Jungkook has been doing. The streets are quieter now. Only a car or two pass here and there under the dim lamp posts. It almost feels as if you were far off the city, in a deserted town. If only it could always be like this – indeed is it dreadful living in a street so dull with life.

Hoseok, on the other hand, can’t possibly fathom anything better, and the thought makes you smile just the slightest bit.

“Taehyung, could you direct me to the bathroom, please?”

The boy blinks at you, before slowly rising to his bare feet. “Sure,” he motions for you to follow him. You chance a glance at Jungkook, only to see that he has not moved one bit.

Your brother’s boisterous laughter can be heard, as you pass the kitchen. Huddled near the counter, the three men exchange friendly conversation, and you barely catch a glimpse of it, before Taehyung points you to the toilet.

The walls are white, and the color makes the space seem a little wider than it really is. You pull down the seat and after close inspection, allow yourself to sit on it. It doesn’t take you longer than five minutes to finish and wash your hands.

Gently, you push the door shut and press your shoulders against it with a hushed sigh. Where the wallpaper slightly rots in a corner of the ceiling, you stare. The stain is small, and you can only trace the reason for it back to a leak. Around the peeled edges, the wall takes on a color of faded copper – it is a sight you’ve seen before. Hoseok and Yoongi would remember, they were there too.

Your brother means well, he always does, but you are tired and have been for a while now. Tonight, you only wished to sleep – and Hoseok only wished to spend time with you. It is your birthday afterall.

Once again, you sigh, and in an attempt to lean off the door, lose your balance. It takes a meager second to regain step, and you inhale steadily, in hopes that your vision will clear.

“Wait, don’t go just yet.”

The voice, accompanied by a hand that draws Hoseok back to the kitchen, is just above a whisper. Where you stand pressed to the wall, the entrance to it is visible, and if you were to walk a little further, you would be able to see inside.

You make a tentative step forward, relieved to have recoveredfrom the minor mishap your lack of sleep has caused. As you approach the kitchen, it becomes easy to distinguish their voices. In succinct, hushed tones, they speak with their backs turned to face the counters. At first, you mean to ignore them and continue on to the living-room, until:

“But, when do you mean to tell her?”

You pause, wondering whom Namjoon’s question was directed to. There is a beat of silence, then your brother answers – “Uh. Soon, I think. But, I don’t know. Yoongi and I discussed it, and I’d rather we be alone – you know, just me and her.”

A small frown ebbs your features, and deepens the more you think of what he could possibly mean to tell you. For a moment, you fear it to be something bad, and, at this thought, the thudding in your chest starts.

“Yeah, man. It has been a while now, it’s always better that she knows about it now.”

Along with this revelation, doubt churns unpleasantly in your mind. Hoseok has never been one to keep things from you, at least not for long. You wish to see his face, to reassure yourself that it cannot be as bad as you have made it to be. Instead, you stay where you are.

“Yeah, I know – it’s just…”

He sighs, and the sound jabs at your heart, because it is so uncertain.

“I’m scared.”

If only you could confront him, ask him what it is that he is so afraid of, soothe his concerns – if only, you weren’t so terrified too.

Fingers tap at your shoulder, and you nearly startle into cardiac arrest. First, it’s a warm voice: “it’s not nice to eavesdrop on people”, and second, a teasing smile.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell on you,” Taehyung’s grin widens, and all you can do is blink. “I was about to go bother them, but then I saw you lurking here.”

He stares and awaits your answer – strange, you consider, that there is so much depth in his unsuspecting gaze. All you can muster, followed by a pitiful smile, is “yeah, sorry.”

Taehyung’s eyes drift to your trembling hands, and his expression morphs into one of concern. But, before he can get too curious, you head to the living area, legs unsteady under the burden of a restless mind.

Jungkook is on his phone now. His eyes follow whatever it is he reads on the screen, and as you enter the room, he lifts them up. It is quick, however, because no more than a second later, the tired brown of his pupils are back on the device. This small action you think is of no importance, and when you sit down on the rug, your fingers press gently into the covered skin of your calves.

From the corner of your eye, you see Hoseok and Yoongi, along with the two other men, come in.

Hoseok takes a seat on the couch, and Yoongi one at your side – he presses a bear bottle firmly to his lips. “Y/N, you’re not too bored right?”

Your brother raises an eyebrow, and you inspect his face, searching for a hint of deceit, only to find there is none.

“No, I’m fine.”

Namjoon and Taehyung, a few moments ago, had settled on the sofa beside Hoseok. The oldest of the two brings his left leg to rest atop the other and sighs deeply, crumpling in the slightest his can of soda. Taehyung, on the other hand, sits stiff, eyes trained on you in confusion, though, it is subtle enough that only you notice. He had seemed worried earlier, and with your abrupt retreat, you understand it hasn’t helped clear his mind.

“So, I heard it’s your birthday today, Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice is soft, agreeable, spoken out of ample lips and a smile.

“Yeah,” your response is short, and you try to curb the bluntness of it with a kind smile. Hoseok snorts and adds to the exchange, “she’s turning 20, and she was sitting around all alone at home, moping.”

Namjoon nods in understanding, “I get that – I remember being really depressed when I turned 18.”

Yoongi joins in, “really? I don’t see the point of being sad about something you can’t control.”

You can count the amount of times you have heard him speak tonight on one hand. He has never been the most talkative, but tonight Yoongi is quiet. The conversation you overheard minutes prior peals through your thoughts. Hoseok had mentioned that his concern was one discussed with Yoongi, and you can’t help but link this to his silence.

“Are you kidding? Turning 20 is awesome, you can legally drink.”

Jungkook scoffs at Hoseok, “it’s not like that ever stopped you before.”

You are surprised to know that he has been listening, but the others don’t seem to make much of it. Your brother waves him off with a grin, “yeah.”

“Well, do you want a drink?”

Namjoon appears ready to rise from his seat, head tilted and soda abandoned on the coffee table. He awaits your answer, and when you shake your head no, he relaxes on the backrest again.

“Thank you, though.”

“No problem, you’re my guest.”

The rest of the night passes in a flow of laughter and conversation. You sit there and listen as the group of friends recount stories of past foolishness, an occasional smile resting on your lips. At some moment, you can’t seem to recall, Yoongi drapes his arm over both your shoulders. The action is affectionate, the show of a somewhat brotherly love, and you ignore with practice the intensifying ache in your chest.

It is more than you could have ever asked for, being able to love Min Yoongi.

(A/N: Pls support this, I love this story with all my heart, and if it flops I might cry. Also, we’ll see more of the nature of Yoongi and Y/N’s relationship next chapter :) This story will be very slow paced, and one of its main focuses will be Hoseok and Y/N’s family bond. I’ll try to post a part at least once a month, since this story really can’t be rushed. Thanks for understanding.)

Masterlist

[thismanateelovestowrite]

When you and Chan meet after being friends for a long time and he confesses to you

Thanks so much for the request, cutie! I’m sorry I took so long with this >< Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this! ^^

i tried T-T i hope this is okay~

Words: 4387

Fluff i guess?

Requested by anon ♥

”I’m at the airport right now. I just ate some breakfast and now I’m just sitting here in the café, going through yesterday’s work,” you explained to your phone that you had placed on the table, balancing it against a fake plant.

“When did you go to sleep last night?” Chan - the person you were having a Skype call with - chuckled.

“Rather early,” you rubbed your eyes.

“What time, though? Knowing you, you probably went to sleep at five or something.”

“Hey, I actually went to bed at three last night. So not that late at all.”

“And you got up an hour ago, so… You slept, like, four hours? Do you have any idea how bad that is for your health, huh?”

You groaned at his nagging. “Says the one who sleeps five hours a night at most… You know, you aren’t exactly leading a healthy lifestyle either, mister. So don’t at me. Besides, I’m going to sleep on the plane anyway, so I won’t actually be sleep deprived when I arrive in Korea.”

“Fine, you win,” he sighed, earning a tired smile from you. “But don’t expect to have a sleeping schedule like that when you’re here. This trip of yours is all about our mutual interest in music and just relaxing. Got it?”

“Sounds like you have already created a schedule for the next two weeks,” you laughed at his words.

“Yes, and to summarize it to you right now, it consists of music and fun, relaxing stuff. You can do an absolute maximum of two hours of school stuff a day, only on weekdays. Got it?”

“Good thing I finished most of my assignments already, then,” you said.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “Anyway, I have to go meet a few friends. I’ll see you at the airport,” he smiled and you nodded with a small smile before the call was ended by him.

While listening to the landing announcement, you looked outside from the window next to you. Even though it was raining, your mood was nice since you were so excited. You were in a country you hadn’t visited before and you were about to meet a long-time friend for the first time. Your lips curved up at the thought of finally seeing Chan in real life, not just through a screen. Granted, you were nervous but it was mostly covered by how excited you were.

As passengers started to rise from their seats, you sat still. Your feet moved anxiously while you sat, urging you to get up already, but you calmly waited for the busier people to get out first. You weren’t in a hurry, so why should you rush out?

While sitting there, you packed your small handbag that you had had with you during the flight. You took out your phone, taking it off airplane mode. After packing your things in the bag, you slowly stood up and went to the hallway. The man who had sat next to you during the flight helped you get your luggage from the shelf and you thanked him with a smile, which he seemed to appreciate. After acquiring your luggage, you walked to the exit and got off the plane. While walking to get your bigger suitcase from baggage reclaim, you texted Chan.

Just landed~

Your steps were light as you arrived in the baggage reclaim area and spotted your suitcase on the conveyor. Before you reached it, you could feel your phone buzz in your pocket. While walking towards your suitcase, you pulled your phone out.

What does your suitcase look like?

You were focused on your phone so you didn’t look where you were going, bumping into someone in the end. You stumbled back at the impact and looked at the person with an apologetic look. Your mouth opened but you couldn’t get words out, only smiling.

“It’s that one, isn’t it?” Chan asked you with a grin, pointing at a suitcase.

You looked in the direction. “It’s not,” you chuckled and walked to your suitcase, pulling it down from the conveyor. “It’s this one, dummy.”

He looked at it with a weird look. “It doesn’t match your style at all,” he stated boldly.

“Well, excuse me for not having the money to spend two hundred dollars on a suitcase just for the aesthetics,” you said with a grin. “I like my grandpa’s good old buddy from when he traveled the world as a youngster.”

He looked at you and chuckled. “That must be ancient.” You nodded proudly. “It has seen a lot.” He just laughed and you couldn’t help but smile upon hearing the familiar sound of his laugh. You looked at him, amazed that he was finally standing there, in front of you after all those years.

“It’s really nice to finally have you here,” he said with a smile. “All the Skyping was getting tiring. Now we can just see each other’s faces for two weeks straight.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I got tired of seeing you during that time,” you joked. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, finally, like you just said.” “Was the flight tough?” he asked, grabbing the handle of your bigger suitcase and pulling it over to him. He apparently planned on helping you carry your bags to his car.

“Thanks,” you thanked him for the kind gesture. “The flight was kind of tough,” you shrugged, grabbing your smaller suitcase’s handle. “I got some sleep, though, so it wasn’t that bad. I also worked on some lyrics and did some school work.”

You two began walking towards what you assumed was the exit.

“Don’t tell me you brought all your study materials with you?” he asked and you gave him a guilty grin, causing him to sigh.

“I didn’t bring everything! I swear, I just brought a few books that I can read during the evenings if I have time.”

“What am I going to do with you?” he shook his head in disappointment, a small smile on his lips.

“I have tests coming up,” you gave him a small pout.

“I know, I know,” he said. “Just swear you won’t waste this opportunity, okay? I don’t want to hear you whine later about how stupid you were to waste your time on studying while here,” he gave you a grin.

With a nod, you assured him that you wouldn’t waste the holiday on studying. You definitely didn’t want to do so either.

“Wow, what a mansion,” you exclaimed upon entering Chan’s place.

You could hear him snort behind you. “It’s a two-room apartment, what mansion are you talking about?”

“This is a mansion compared to my dorm back home,” you looked around in fascination. “Besides, you live rather close to the city center. This place must cost a fortune!”

“The rent is actually lower than you’d think,” he placed his keys on the drawer in the hallway. “This neighborhood isn’t known to be too nice so that brings the prize down quite a bit.”

You hummed in understanding, still looking around in fascination.

“You can use these slippers,” he took a pair of slippers out of the drawer and placed them on the floor.

You hurried over to put them on and a wide smile spread across your lips. “Why do these look like you bought them for me?” you asked and looked at him.

He hung his jacket on the coat rack in the corner of the hallway, right next to the door. “Keep dreaming,” he chuckled and walked past you while pushing your luggage towards the living room.

You took your jacket off, put the slippers on and followed him. After discussing about it for a long time, you two had decided that it would be easiest for you to stay at his place during your visit. At first the idea had sounded a little wild for you both but as you thought about it further, it seemed like a reasonable solution. It wouldn’t cost you as much - you would still pay him a little for letting you stay over - and it would be more convenient considering that you two were going to spend most of the time together anyway.

He showed you around the apartment and you listened attentively. In general, the apartment seemed tidy and cozy, and you liked it a lot. He was glad to see how much you liked it, smiling widely at your excited expression. You didn’t notice it at first but when you did, you stopped and looked at him with a curious expression.

“You seem happy,” you stated.

“That’s because I am. It’s nice to have you here.”

“Is it really?” you asked, surprised to see him so genuinely glad.

He nodded, still smiling. “I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. We finally get to share our music face-to-face, we get to hang out for real and there are no time zones between us. Don’t you think it’s great?”

“I must admit,” you sat down on the small couch he had in the living room. “I like it too.”

Chan’s POV

The time I spent with _____ filled me with so much joy that all my stress disappeared during the first few days of her visit. My friends liked her too, to the point that I felt a little like an outsider when we hung out one day. We had so much fun that I felt like I had never been happier. The two of us spent the evenings listening to music and just lounging in the living room, chatting about everything from toes to space - I’m not even kidding. We felt comfortable around each other, despite just having met for the first time a few days earlier.

Be it toes or space, anything and everything _____ talked about sounded incredibly interesting to me. I loved her company more than I ever would have imagined I would. Before meeting her, I had thought that I would only be that excited at first - that the over-excitement would die down rather quickly - but towards the end of her first week in Korea, I still faced her with the same excitement in the morning.

We had somewhat agreed - she had opposed a little - on her sleeping in my bedroom while I slept in the living room, on the couch I slept on quite often anyway. I had, of course, changed all the bedding for her just like I had hurriedly tidied up the apartment the evening before her arrival.

On the Saturday evening of her first week, we went out to town to hang out with some mutual friends of ours and ended up staying out longer than expected. We all had fun but when the two of us returned to my apartment at midnight, we were exhausted. We had been up since seven in the morning since we had wanted to go out early, so it wasn’t a surprise that we were so burned out.

After washing up, I headed straight to bed - or couch. She had washed up before me and I assumed she had gone to sleep, too. Apparently, she hadn’t; when I went to wake her up the next morning, I found her sleeping in my bed, a book under her head. I sighed at the sight.

“Did you attempt to study last night?” I asked while gently taking the book away from her. “I’m guessing you didn’t get much done,” I chuckled and closed the book.

I crouched down next to the bed to be on her eye-level. She was sleeping peacefully, her mouth slightly open. The blanket was only covering her feet. Despite being a complete mess, she seemed adorable in my eyes.

After smiling adoringly at her for a few seconds, I got up and left the room quietly.

I let the door close behind me as I kicked my shoes off and put on my slippers. I carried the two bags filled with groceries to the kitchen. There I was greeted by a sleepy _____.

“Morning,” I said, opened the refrigerator and started emptying the plastic bags one item at a time.

_____ just stood there quietly for a bit before coming over to me. “What did you buy?”

I glanced at her. “Food. Well, ingredients, to be exact.”

She seemed a little confused.

“I thought it would be nice to hang out here today,” I stated with a smile and closed the refrigerator’s door. “It’s not the prettiest weather and you said it would be fun to cook something together one day. Besides, yesterday was pretty exhausting.”

“Sounds nice,” she said with a smile, causing me to smile too. “I’ll go take a shower before that, though.”

I nodded and she went to take a shower. I checked the clock on the kitchen wall - 11:00 am - and went to change in to something a little more comfortable.

Half an hour later, the two of us sat on the couch in the living room, browsing through out music selection. We were trying to pick out some music to play while we were cooking.

“Upbeat songs would be fun,” she suggested and I agreed, searching for a nice upbeat playlist.

After a bit, I found one that we both agreed on and hit play. The music caused us to get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen with light steps.

We decided to do multiple dishes since I had bought a wide variety of ingredients. Even though we divided the tasks and focused mainly on our own stuff, I turned around every few minutes to glance at her. She moved along to the music while cutting vegetables and I smiled, glad to see her enjoying herself.

Every time a favorite song of ours came out, we would turn to each other and just enjoy the song to the fullest while attempting to still do our tasks. To be honest, it did feel like we were in a corny drama or movie when we did that but we decided to ignore that. We were having fun so what’s the point in overthinking.

Thanks to the excitement, I forgot that I was cooking and dealing with a hot stove. Of course, I accidentally had to hurt myself while jamming out to a song with _____. I cursed out loud when my hand hit the hot surface, pulling it back immediately.

“Oh, my, are you okay?” her eyes widened.

I just hissed and opened the faucet to give some first-aid to the burn. She came to stand next to me and we looked at my hand together (as if it was a sight to see). While I cringed at the pain, the cheerful music kept playing in the background.

“You should have been careful,” she scolded me.

I turned to look at her and was slightly taken aback by how close her face was to mine. “Sorry,” I apologized almost subconsciously, just staring at her.

“Oh, well. You’re a big boy already, you’ll live,” she threw a joke and patted my head like I was a kid.

I snorted in amusement and she returned to where she had been cooking, a wide smile on her lips. She moved a little along the music and I watched her while keeping my hand under the running water. The smile remained on her lips and I was almost mesmerized by it.

“For how long are you planning on just standing there?” she chuckled after a while, waking me up from the daze.

“Oh, right,” I closed the faucet and hurried back to what I had been doing before the small mishap.

Your POV

Your eyelids were starting to grow heavy and you kept yawning. Chan was so focused on the movie that he didn’t notice how tired you were, which you thought was a good thing. Subconsciously, you kept glancing at him. You found yourself staring at him a few times. To the sleepy you, he seemed a whole lot more interesting than the movie you two were watching.

“Are you getting tired?” he suddenly asked and turned his head to look at you.

Surprised, you sat up straight and shook your head. “I’m wide-awake.”

You purposefully looked at him with wide eyes, making him let out a chuckle. “I didn’t know that you tend to snore when you’re awake.”

“What?” you asked, bewildered. “Snore? Me? When did I ever?!”

He just laughed and you grabbed a pillow, smacking him with it. “It’s kind of cute.” “Shut up!” you felt somewhat embarrassed and felt your cheeks heat up.

“I’m serious! It’s adorable, really,” he just found your reaction amusing.

It could have been the fact that you were super tired, but you felt upset about his behavior, giving him a glare and getting up. “I’m going to bed. I hope you choke in your sleep.”

“What? Wait a second,” he still sounded amused and you decided to just ignore him, slamming the door shut once you were in his room. “_____,” you heard from the other side of the door.

Ignoring him, you went to bed, covered yourself with the thick blanket and closed your eyes. You felt childish but figured it was best to just sleep it off.

The next morning you stood in front of the door for a good ten minutes before going out. You were embarrassed for how you had acted and you were more than ready to blame it all on how tired you had been. Still, it felt weird to face Chan.

“I’m sorry I let you down,” he said immediately when you went in to the kitchen where he was making breakfast.

“What?” you asked, confused.

He turned to look at you. “I didn’t choke in my sleep. I’m sorry.”

You were dumbfounded for a second, not sure how to react to his joke. “I was just joking, you know,” you said and walked over to him. “I didn’t mean it. I was just tired. And you pissed me off. And-“

You were cut off when he stuffed the sandwich he had made in to your mouth. “Eat,” he said, smiling out of amusement at your surprised expression. “It’s my apology for being stupid.”

“You weren’t stupid,” you said after swallowing the bite.

He gave you a look.

“Okay, well, maybe just a little.”

Your comment made him grin and he returned to making a sandwich for himself. “So, what do you want to do today?”

You ate some more and hummed. “Well, you said there’s a studio nearby.”

“The one Changbin owns? Yeah, it’s nearby. You want to go there?” You nodded. “You could show me some of your new compositions. I know you have some.”

He looked reluctant. “I don’t know. Those are pretty bad, to be honest.” ���Maybe I can help you with them?” you suggested.

“Only if you promise you will help me record a little,” he demanded and even though you felt slightly nervous about the idea, you agreed in the end.

“Want to go straight away?” he took a bite out of his sandwich.

“Can we?”

“Changbin lets me use the studio freely, so I can go pretty much any time I want to,” he explained.

“Well, I don’t mind,” you said. “I’ll go get changed and we can leave?”

He nodded and you downed the last bits of your sandwich before heading to his room to change. It didn’t take long and soon you two were outside, walking to the studio. You both enjoyed the fresh air in your lungs, mentioning it to each other briefly. You thought it was refreshing to be outside after having spent the day before at the apartment.

“It still amazes me how Changbin got this place,” you stated when you two arrived in front of the building where the studio was located.

Changbin was a mutual friend of yours. He was a mystery to both of you and you were baffled about where and how he had gotten enough money to buy a place for the studio. During your stay, you and Chan had come up with a few conspiracies as to how it had happened.

The studio was neat; there was a lot of equipment for producing music varying from actual instruments to a mic and a desktop. It was also tidy - unlike you had expected - and you were pleasantly surprised by that.

Chan headed straight to the desktop, turning it on and sitting down on the chair in front of it.

“How often do you come here?” you asked.

“I usually spend most of the nights here,” he confessed with a grin. “He works here during the day and I don’t want to bother him.”

“How thoughtful,” you said teasingly and he snorted. “Haven’t you two produced a few songs together before?”

“Yeah, with one friend of ours,” he said while you dragged a chair over and sat down next to him. “What would you like to hear first?” he turned to look at you.

“The one you dislike the most,” you suggested. “I want, for once, to see a genius fail.”

“Stop saying things like that,” he nudged you with his elbow, though he was smiling a little. “Anyway. If you want to see me fail, I’m sure you’ll love everything I have to offer you right now.”

You gave him a look but he ignored it, clicking play on one of the demos he had saved on the desktop. You listened to it, wondering why he disliked it so much; to you, it sounded okay.

“Next,” you said when it ended. “That one was good. You don’t need my magical skills with that.”

He rolled his eyes in amusement and let you listen to the next one. “For this one I want you to record a bit. I think your voice would fit it perfectly.”

“Fine by me,” you shrugged and listened to the music carefully.

He showed you the lyrics he had wrote and soon after you were attempting to record a few lines with the mic there. It wasn’t professional in any way but he wasn’t trying to make a finished track out of that recording anyway, so it wasn’t a problem. After a few tries, you stopped.

“Should we try together?” you asked. “I feel like the chorus needs more than just one voice.”

He agreed and you tried together a few times. You liked how your voices blended together and a smile curved your lips up as you recorded the chorus over and over again, both leaning close to the mic. You didn’t realize how close your faces were before you turned to look at each other and your noses almost touched. Surprised, you both leaned away, just staring at each other.

After a brief awkward silence, you let out an even more awkward laugh and looked away. He kept looking at you and it bothered you a little. The music kept playing and you returned to your original position to attempt recording a little more. Before you could say anything, he leaned closer and pressed a kiss on your lips out of nowhere.

“Sorry definitely not sorry about that,” he said when you looked at him with a shocked expression. “I’ve been meaning to do that for a few days now.”

“What was that?” you asked.

“Me expressing that I wouldn’t mind being more than friends with you,” he explained rather calmly.

“Why?” you blurted out.

“Why not?” he asked. “I like you.”

“You do?” you blurted out once again.

A small chuckle left his lips. “You think I would have kissed you if I didn’t?”

“I don’t know. I can’t read your mind.” “Are you flustered?” he seemed amused.

“Yeah, a little,” you admitted. “That was sudden. I wasn’t expecting it. Like, at all.”

He was silent for a few seconds, just looking at you with a smile. “Can I do that again?” he asked, making you wonder what kind of black magic he was practicing to remain so calm and collected - you on the other hand were having some sort of a breakdown. “Would you mind?”

“No,” you answered.

“What does that mean?”

“That I wouldn’t mind…?” you hesitated.

He leaned in for another kiss almost immediately, catching you off-guard once again. Your heart raced and your cheeks felt hot as the kiss lasted longer than the first one. Just as when you were starting to enjoy the moment, you two were interrupted by the sound of something dropping.

You two pulled away from each other and turned to look towards the door of the studio where you discovered Changbin. He was standing there, a bag on the ground next to his feet.

“Oh, you’re here,” Chan seemed to remain his calm while you were, once again, freaking out a little inside your head.

“Pretend I never saw that,” Changbin said with a frown on his face. “Don’t get me wrong, my lovely friends, I’m all for love and happy endings but please don’t use this sacred place of mine to do your dirty stuff.”

“You hang out here with your girlfriend all the time, though,” Chan pointed out as Changbin closed the door and picked up his bag.

“That’s different,” Changbin claimed, earning a snort from Chan.

“Yeah, whatever,” he said and turned to look at you. “Should we go “do our dirty stuff” elsewhere?”

“Ew,” Changbin exclaimed from across the room. “Don’t word it like that.”

“Let’s go,” Chan ignored him and grabbed your hand before leading you out rather quickly.

Your cheeks were still hot when you got outside, and you were in sort of a daze from what was going on.

“Now,” he turned to look at you. “We don’t have many days before you leave so I want to use all the time as effectively as possible.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“We have to do all the cheesy, lovey-dovey stuff couples do,” he grinned. “What do you want to begin with?”

And so, you two spent the rest of your visit going on dates and being lovey-dovey. It made leaving harder for you, sure, but you couldn’t have enjoyed the time you spent with him

[annethehero]

It feels symbolic in some way that I should find myself here.

I don’t want to say that I’m touching broken glass, but... Yeah. I’m touching broken glass right now.

I fancy myself a poet, which means a few things: Namely that I get to sound like the biggest asshat when I say stuff like, “I’m a poet! lolollo” But it also means that I write often, and that I allow myself to write down all the thoughts that I’m having, even if they don’t have the best ring to them at the moment. 

TL;DR, I take a lot of notes.

My phone’s memo app saves to a file type that no other existing app I have found is even able to read. So I’ve taken it upon myself, one by one, to sort through the pile of notes waxing sentimental over my previous love interest - after the current one’s car backed over said phone, in the rain.

Some of them I’m saving. Some of them I’m not.

A significant theme of my last relationship was on what it means to have a healthy connection to the past. To me, the past is a story explaining everything there is to know about the present. It’s a way of understanding where we are, and where we might go, and if studied well enough, can be used to grow in a better direction. Back then, I might have even conceded that it’s all we’re even made of. His view was that bringing up the past in any fashion was universally negative and exclusive from being able to move forward in the present. Moreover, it was an unforgivable flaw in character for which others deserved his judgment.

Without the past, all we have is now, and not now in the sense of the current era or circumstances that are relevant to now, but the literal, more abstract now - this one neverending moment that just keeps passing and starting again. Without any memory of the past, you might read this part of the sentence and have no context for where it began, or you wouldn’t be able to read at all - or play those same three Odesza songs on loop while you snort coke and talk about how Rick from Rick and Morty is, like, totally you. Without the past, there’d be no you. Your parents would never have fucked, because there were no humans, because there is no matter anywhere in the universe. Somewhere we have to draw the line between what seems reasonable or not.

A slippery slope on my part, to be sure. But see, this is what happens... Without boundaries, you start to lose your grip on reality. 

You can’t seem to remember if someone is really acting the same as they were yesterday. You could tell someone what they’re doing isn’t normal or okay, and why, and recommend sources of information for that claim, and they could simply let themselves off the hook with a response as terse as, “I don’t care what’s ‘normal’; I’m not trying to be like other people.”

You might find yourself thinking, “Well he does share philosophy with my rapist and throw tantrums about having to stay within the bounds of my consent, wants a 24/7 BDSM relationship without safe words or aftercare, and fully stopped me from breathing without any sort of warning that one time, but besides that he hasn’t done anything I didn’t want...”

You might find yourself actually having conversations where you should hear yourself say the words, “I don’t think I’m being abused...” out loud.

Or you might find yourself speaking at length with a dude’s ex-before-you, just for a more definitive answer to the question, “Did this really happen?”

Without remembering the past, you’re isolated. It’s easy for anyone to tell you that what you are experiencing is not valid. 

But like any romance with a self-proclaimed sociopath, there were positive aspects too. Because no one person is all-the-way bad, or wrong about everything. And even when I talk shit it’s only to better quell the feeling of what good was lost...

In the combined process of introspection and introduction, I talked a lot about who I used to be, as though it would help to explain all that I am currently, because there’s a fair degree to which it does. At first it was just past relationships I couldn’t bring up. Then it was any past negative experience. Then it was just anything - positive, negative, high school, childhood, class last week, breakfast this morning - Whatever it was, it was killing his vibe.

However, attempting to progressively cut all story telling out of my speech to meet the strange compulsive needs of my ex lover taught me something kind of important: The past explains the present, but the present is all that really exists. It’s made me who I am, but being anchored to it is a continuous choice on my part. There’s something freeing about being able to ask yourself, who you would choose to be if you could, going only from this moment forward.

There was this underlying feeling of being stuck as a creation of those events, of never being able to escape the nightmares, or panic attacks, or sense of guilt that causes me to feel like I deserve all the bad things that happen to me (or to be attracted to self-proclaimed sociopaths because the dysfunction of it feels familiar). These feelings were only intensified by the presence of someone who told me these qualities represented weakness in my character, and that to be up to his standard, I would have to prove I can be a different person now.

My relationship to the past had become as tense as possible, as my simultaneous avoidance of it and feeling of being trapped within it threatened to tear my whole headspace apart. I pushed against myself trying to disown past-me as a separate person, trying to become someone else, because everything was going to be better, just as soon as I could manage to persuade the object of my obsession that I have some value as a human being.

But as I found myself back in that familiar feeling low point, debating another go at rockstar death, I realized that I was already totally bored with the idea. If you’ve had one existential crisis over some nobody who doesn’t appreciate you, you’ve sort of had them all. I caught a glimpse of my reflection, eyes hollow with sleep deprivation, imploring me for what this all means. 

Bro, your life is fine. You just need to quit filling it with people who suck.

I saw that separate, past-self of mine and I didn’t want to disown her, or tell her that she was weak or unattractive. I wanted to embrace her and tell her I loved her, even if no one else did. I wanted to promise her I’d fix all of this. I wanted to tell her that her experiences are valid - that I’m her and she’s me, that we don’t have to live in this strange version of reality where one of us tries to forget the past and the other is resigned to exist in the flashbacks only becoming more frequent as we pulled that much harder against one another. We could live as one unified person, in the here and now, who remembers and accepts, and keeps moving forward... And that anyone who claims to love either of us without the other is probably kind of a dick anyway.

When I heard my negative self-narrative coming out of another person’s mouth at me, I had to face how completely ridiculous it sounded, and the romance of it was sort of ruined for me. I realized how many other stupid, terrible things I say to myself all day long and how equally not-true they are. When I saw a piece of myself as a separate person, I couldn’t neglect her anymore. I wanted to do and say the same things I would for a friend in the same position... so I did.

As I navigate through my busted phone, excavating bits of poetry from the last several months and trying to protect my fingers, I have to ask myself which things I’m going to actually use and which are okay to let go of. The more I’m willing to accept myself and all of the thoughts that I have, the easier it is to process and let go...

Maybe I would have arrived to this more emotionally stable state without letting someone destroy my psyche, just as maybe I would have performed a proper backup on my files had I not carelessly smashed the fuck out of my phone, but, like... probably not.

Sometimes you need to hit bottom before you can start to climb out. Or at least get close enough to the bottom to kinda look at it and go “Ehh...”

Also if this picture of my angsty song lyrics on a fucked up phone screen isn’t Tumblrworthy I seriously don’t even know what is.