#when my coworker asked if someone lost their sole we thought he meant soul and we all looked up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

catboymingi · 4 years

Text

there’s no caution signs for life

and even if there were, who’d follow those?

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 9k i am so sorry

warnings: mentions of rape, sex (nothing leading up to it, nor a description of the act) - these are mentioned as past happenings; depictions of unhealthy coping (the unhealthy coping part of sleeping around is focused on more than the sex part), self hate, medication use (prescription, for mental health issues); language

a/n: my thought process: so we want hurt... then comfort... then hurt again... then comfort... and then we are in love with mingi - also heavily inspired by this song (pihtiote by apulanta) which is written as “PIHTIOTE WE HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO STAN“ in my inspo doc

you made a mistake, but maybe it’s the mistake that finally gets you back on track

jos tuntisit mun mieleni / mun ajatukset ja sieluni / jos kuulisit sydämen / sen rytmin merkityksen... / muutos roikkuu ilmassa - if you knew my mind / my thoughts and soul / if you listened to my heart / the meaning of its rhythm... / change hangs in the air

you would’ve expected that four years after the incident you’d be over it, you held yourself to this standard, thinking that you were weak for still being affected. being incredibly affected, today, on the anniversary of the worst thing that had ever happened to you. of course you were in a bar again, as always, looking for the next poor soul to take home, and you quickly found someone. maybe you should have kept looking for someone else, because this guy was sweet and attentive, and experience had taught you that the sweet ones were hoping to stay in the mornings. but because today wasn’t just a regular day your regular concerns were not as much of a consideration as they usually were and you didn’t keep looking, you went with him. he wasn’t drunk, he was fine with it, so you took him home.

but you knew, the next morning, that you should have kept looking, when he was still next to you when you woke up.

“good morning”, and he still sounded so incredibly sweet that you felt a surge of guilt wash through your body, because you’d have to let him down.

“i don’t usually do this”, he then told you, smiling awkwardly with one arm wrapped around you.

“i don’t do relationships.” and though you didn’t want to hurt him you felt it’d only be more unfair to him if you kept him here when he was very obviously hoping he’d get to take you out.

“o-oh. sorry.” arm removed from around your waist as if he’d gotten burnt. he looked a little lost, leaving your bed and hurriedly putting his clothes back on. he sent you a last glance, a mixture of hopeful and apologetic, as he left your apartment. you hadn’t even kissed him. poor boy.

but it wasn’t something you could do. not after what happened. it was bad enough that this very specific first had been taken from you, the biggest first for most people; you weren’t going to give up any other firsts. dates, relationships, kissing, all that was out of the question. you went home with people and left the next morning, that was how this worked, trying desperately to make that one horrible first matter less if the next ones didn’t matter either. if you pretended sex wasn’t a matter of emotions, maybe one day you’d finally get over what happened. one day.

you honestly didn’t expect to see the sweet boy ever again, because you never saw any boys ever again, but found yourself surprised when he was in the kitchen of the apartment you’d woken up in without remembering this night’s boy’s name or where exactly you even were. you were just trying to get some water before leaving when you found him standing there, looking at you with a somewhat sad smile on his face as he recognised you, obvious what you’d been doing here.

“you really don’t do relationships, huh?” he knew his flatmate was notorious for quick flicks, so seeing you come out of his room at least told him that you hadn’t lied to him that morning just to get him to leave. still, it was a weird feeling.

you just looked at him, unsure of what to say, because there wasn’t really anything good to say to him. ‘yes, i’m a whore’? ‘i fuck to forget, it’s nothing personal’? that wouldn’t work.

“you know each other?” last night’s company had apparently woken up as well now, before you’d been able to sneak out, and he looked between you and his flatmate with a curious expression. that was quickly replaced by one of understanding as he managed to read the expression on the other boy’s face, and he told you, almost proud: “oh! you’re the one that made a man out of mingi!”

you’d been his first? oh fuck. you usually made sure to ask about that, because you refused to steal people’s firsts the way yours had been stolen, didn’t want to be a bad memory, but the emotional turmoil of the night you’d met mingi had apparently made you neglect this most important part in choosing your company.

“you just had to embarrass me”, the sweet, tall boy groaned out, and you looked at him wide-eyed. it felt like the room was spinning around you as the guilt hit you like a truck, the disgust with yourself, because this poor boy would never be able to get this experience back and it was your fault, your fault alone because you’d used him to get over what had happened to you.

you barely even paid attention to what happened next, to your panicked exit, because you had to get out. you needed air and you needed to be away from the living reminder of how badly you’d fucked up. you stormed out of the apartment, not even bothering to put your shoes on before you were outside, all your belongings clutched to your chest until you were on the street outside of the building. you’d taken the stairs, run down and almost fallen because you were barely paying attention to where you were stepping, earning you more than one concerned glance by neighbours that were doing whatever one does in a stairwell on a sunday morning.

once outside you dropped on the grass in front of the surprisingly nice building, trying to catch your breath and putting on your shoes. your heart was beating rapidly, blood rushing through your veins loudly, and you could feel the dreaded panic attack incoming. it was because of your sorry state that you didn’t notice that mingi had come after you, keys in hand that had to be yours since they were neither his nor his flatmate’s.

when he saw you heaving on the ground struggling with your shoelaces, though, his concern was more making sure that you were okay. “is everything alright?”

your head jolted up, and you were looking at him - through him - wide-eyed and shocked, only half able to recognise him for who he was.

“leave!” you surprised yourself with how scared you sounded, how loudly you yelled at him, and he seemed at least as surprised. had he done something wrong?

“you forgot your keys, i just-”

but you didn’t even really register what he was saying, just shouting at him again.

“i said leave!” and because he didn’t really have the right to ask what was up (you’d just had sex, obviously not a big deal, not to you) he just dropped your keys next to you without saying a word and left.

it had taken you a few days, a call to the acute unit of the hospital you’d spent several weeks in back when you hadn’t yet tried to self-medicate with one night stands, and their prescription renewal for benzodiazepines (which you were now taking near religiously) before you were even somewhat back to normal and able to go back to work or university. maybe you would have stayed home longer, though, if you’d known that mingi had been visiting your work daily, hoping to see you there and at least be able to make sure that you were okay. you’d had a work key on your keychain, and even though he did feel a little stalker-ish he’d shown up every day. you hadn’t looked okay at all, and while you obviously didn’t care about him, probably thought he was somewhat embarrassing, even, he couldn’t help but worry about you.

and when you came in four days after you’d stormed out of his apartment like that he felt somewhat relieved, because going to work meant that you couldn’t be doing all too bad. he didn’t come up to you, though, feeling like that would definitely cross the line between somewhat creepy behaviour and really creepy behaviour.

your coworker had noticed him, though, the new regular, and because she knew about your tendency to take every adult being that didn’t mind it home with you she leaned in close, whispering and pointing at him, informing you that he’d been coming for a few days now and that he seemed like a good catch. and it was first then that you noticed mingi.

it was solely thanks to the benzo that you’d taken right before leaving that you didn’t have the next panic attack right there. you couldn’t do anything about it right now, anyway, couldn’t afford to break down at your workplace. so you tried your best to pretend you didn’t see him, to pretend he wasn’t there.

he very much was there, though, barely having moved by the point your break started, which left you feeling conflicted. you didn’t want to talk to him, but at the same time you just really wanted to apologise, hoping it would alleviate even some of the guilt still eating away at you.

“mingi?”

he looked up surprised when you were calling out for him, because he in all honesty hadn’t expected that at all. he’d hoped you’d talk to him, of course, but he hadn’t expected that you actually would.

“how are you?”

he should be the one asking. he should be apologising for the awkward situation you’d found yourself in that was at least partly his fault. but instead he just stammered, somewhat embarrassed, somewhat flustered: “i’m, i’m good, i think. you?”

he seemed so sweet and you felt so bad for what you’d done. you wished you could take him out, to make up for it, wished you could go on an actual date because he deserved his first to be someone that would go out with him and that would cherish him and someone that actually cared about the experience. not a fucking slut.

“not much worse than usual.” and before he could ask about it you continued: “i’m so sorry about that night. i didn’t know you hadn’t… you know. i shouldn’t have done that.”

this situation was so weird. you seemed a lot more sorry than expected, more upset with yourself than appropriate, you seemed so different from the girl that had told him that she didn’t do relationships right after waking up. it seemed like you genuinely cared about an experience that wasn’t even yours, like you felt worse about him having spent it this way than he did himself.

“it’s fine, really. i shouldn’t have expected i’d get to take you out or anything, it was my own decision.” though he did sound somewhat sad about it still, and you wanted to hug him because this wasn’t fucking fair, your stupid way of coping was never supposed to hurt anyone else.

“i’m sorry. i wish you could. just, it’s not you, okay? you’re sweet and nice and deserve something better.” whether you meant better than a one night stand or better than you not even you knew.

mingi didn’t know what to make of this, didn’t know what to make of your behaviour, so he just nodded. but when your coworker called for you to tell you your break was over he spoke up, hit by a sudden wave of… not confidence, but bravery caused by wanting to see you again, even if you didn’t like him.

“can i come again tomorrow?”

even though you knew you wouldn’t be able to give him what he deserved you didn’t have it in you to turn him down, so you just nodded before going back to work.

and he did come again, waving at you shortly before ordering a drink and sitting down somewhere, waiting for your break, hoping you’d come to talk to him again. he was patient, looking at you every now and then but mainly scribbling into a small notebook he’d brought to kill time. when you did come over he smiled at you, a smile brighter than you deserved from him.

“how long is your break today?”

“thirty.” though you didn’t have it in you to look him in the eyes.

“can i get you a drink?”

when your head shot up in surprise he quickly added: “as a friend, don’t worry. you don’t do relationships.”

this boy was way too good for you, you knew that. but if it’d make him happy to get you a drink then you’d let him, of course you would.

“what do you want?”

“surprise me.”

surprise you he did when he came back with a berry frapino, explaining his choice with “it matches your vibe” and looking away in embarrassment at your incredulous expression. you hadn’t at all expected your vibe to be sweet and pastel, considering how you were the definition of an alt girl, facial piercings and studded belt and all, hair constantly dyed a bright, unnatural colour. you wanted to look intimidating, not like an easy target, never again, and so far you had succeeded. yet the sweet boy had decided that a pastel coloured berry frapino matched your vibe.

“it fits your vibe better”, you said finally, but took it anyway, smiling at him.

the two of you just sipped your drinks, sitting in somewhat awkward silence, but how could it not be awkward? you didn’t actually know each other, the only connection being that you happened to have spent a night together. that wasn’t really a great conversation starter.

“do you study?”, mingi spoke up after a few awfully quiet minutes, and you nodded.

“teaching. foreign language kindergarten teacher. you?”

“oh me too! teaching, i mean. maths and history for high school.”

you were surprised, though it fit him. he looked like the kind to be a good teacher, and if you left out that one night you’d met at a bar he did have somewhat of a nerdy vibe. still, it was nice to have something in common to talk about, and you quickly found that talking to him was fun, that it was really easy to just ramble on.

“y/n! break’s over!”

apparently the thirty minutes were already over - you hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed while talking to mingi, it felt more like ten, maybe.

“i have to go.” though you didn’t really want to. you knew you shouldn’t, most definitely shouldn’t because you’d just be getting his hopes up, but you thought he was nice, maybe even liked him a little bit, in the friend way.

“see you tomorrow?” fuck. his expression was so hopeful, you just couldn’t turn him down, even though the hopeful expression was all the more reason why you should turn him down. but you didn’t want to see him sad, not again, not after you’d fucked up so badly the first time you met him already.

“see you tomorrow.”

and though you quickly turned around to go back to work you didn’t miss the smile spreading on his face.

the sweet brunette soon became a regular, coming in whenever you were working (he’d still ask “see you tomorrow?” in that hopeful voice whenever your break was over, and that way he knew whether or not you’d be working the next day) and patiently waited for your break, leaving anywhen from ten minutes to an hour after you had to go back to work. he hadn’t yet gathered the courage to ask you if you’d like to really hang out with him sometime, outside of work where you couldn’t really escape, but today was the day, he decided.

“hey y/n!”

why did he always have to smile so sweetly whenever he saw you? it wasn’t like you’d done anything to deserve it.

“hey mingi”, and you smiled back before you could help it.

“i kind of have a question”, nervously, hands playing with the pages of the notebook he always brought.

“what is it?”

“would you like to hang out after work sometime? or when you have a day off?”

oh no… it seemed like your plan to not get his hopes up had failed miserably.

“mingi, you know i don’t-”

“i know”, the boy quickly interrupted, “it’s not a date. just hanging out where i don’t feel like you’re just talking to get me to buy more drinks. where you can run if you want to.”

he was so kind and cute, worrying that you might feel pressured, sending you an awkward, lopsided grin, that you just had to agree.

“friday? i don’t have work then.”

mingi’s entire face lit up, eyes two upward crescents as his smile almost made them disappear completely; he was such a genuine sweetheart and you wished you weren’t like this.

“friday! can i still come here until then or would you rather i don’t?”

“where else would you get latte art like this?”

he didn’t even order a latte, so this was a really weak argument, but it held up. it was more about knowing that you wouldn’t mind, which you’d shown with your reply. he seemed all happy and excited about that, and you felt the strong urge in you to protect him, even though he was quite a bit taller and most likely also stronger than you. but he still felt… pure, like life hadn’t tainted him yet, and though you knew you couldn’t prevent it from happening sooner or later you wanted to at least try to make it later rather than sooner.

the next two days were spent as the last few weeks had been, him spending your break with you and then leaving, except he shyly asked for your number on thursday, so you could agree on where and when to meet up and let the other know in case something got in the way. and he got it, of course, though it felt a little weird. you didn’t usually give your number out - it was meeting, going home, leaving, no need to share your number. but mingi wasn’t ‘usually’, something you didn’t know how to feel about.

nor did you know how to feel about the weird ping of anxiety you felt the next day as you got ready to meet the boy. he’d seen you in your party attire and in your work clothes, but what you regularly wore wasn’t exactly like either of those. “revealing” your style to him made you strangely nervous, but you tried to convince yourself that it wasn’t a big deal. it was just mingi, after all.

when you were ready you shot him a message saying that you were leaving now, asking where you were going so you’d know which subway to take.

[mingi]: its near centre

[mingi]: do you have pet allergies? food allergies?

a fairly odd combination of questions, but then again there was always the possibility that people would bring their pets to a café, which you assumed was where he was going to take you, so you told him that you didn’t before making your way to the train.

[y/n]: ill be there in 10. where do we meet?

[mingi]: im almost there, so ill wait in front of the station

and he was waiting, looking cosy and sweet as always, wearing a massive sweater and grinning at you brightly. his soft look made you feel a little weird, because it didn’t exactly match well with your all-black attire, but if he thought you looked odd he didn’t show it.

“hey!” excitement apparent in his voice, though the way he was standing looked a little awkward.

“hey, mingi.” and you smiled back at him, because you were happy to see him, actually.

“can i, uh, hug you? a hello hug? or is that weird”, he asked, the request making you understand why he looked like that - he didn’t know how to greet you, because this was a new environment and you’d never met up outside of work before.

“go ahead.”

he immediately did, pressing you against his chest shortly but tightly, the hug about as awkward as him but you didn’t mind. it felt nice, comfortable, and first now did you realise how long you hadn’t been hugged like this. you definitely had your reasons, but maybe a hug every now and then would be nice, still.

“ready to go?” his nervous enthusiasm had you thinking that if he started jumping up and down it wouldn’t even surprise you, but it was cute.

“where are you taking me?”

“surprise.” and without any further explanation he started half-jogging in the direction of his surprise, first slowing down when you complained that your legs were shorter than his and that you couldn’t keep up.

“sorry!”

but you couldn’t even pretend to be mad at him. and you definitely weren’t when you reached your destination - a cat café.

“i hope you like cats.” he was obviously anxious about your complete lack of reaction, just staring at the building while you were taking in his adorable choice of location.

“i’m more worried the cats won’t like me”, you joked, trying to calm his nerves because he really had no reason to be worried - you were glad to be there with him, even though you weren’t ready to think about why.

“but consider”, he countered as the two of you entered, “you’re the one with the treats.”

“not that convincing when you have treats, too.”

and in the short moment where you saw his face before he turned to pay the fee you saw something that looked like a flustered expression, causing a small smile to appear on your face without you noticing.

the smile hadn’t yet disappeared when your time with the cats was up, giving mingi the courage he needed in order to ask if you wanted to hang out a little longer. he suggested the movies, explaining that there was a fairly recent one he’d wanted to see, but really the main reason for his suggestion was that he hoped he’d feel a little less awkward if someone else did the talking and the entertaining.

“okay” was all you said in reply, not sure how much enthusiasm would be appropriate. not sure how exactly you felt about the situation, either; you wanted to spend more time with him, but you didn’t want to want that, so it left you conflicted.

he beamed at you, obviously not concerned in the slightest about how much enthusiasm was appropriate, near yelling “let’s go then!” - you thought that he was way too cute for your own good as he took off, stopping after a few steps as he remembered that your legs were definitely shorter than his.

“sorry, i keep forgetting”, he apologised with a sheepish smile, and you smiled back at him.

“just means i got a very prominent energy, doesn’t it?”

“probably does.”

you were still glad, though, when he did keep the difference in leg length in mind, walking at a pace that was easy for you to keep up with. the two of you joked and talked on the short walk to the cinema, and when you got there he told you briefly what the movie was about (to his knowledge, at least - he’d only seen the trailer), so that you could tell him if that wasn’t your kind of movies. he insisted on paying, with the reasoning that he’d dragged you here, and after several pouty “come on”s from him you finally agreed. he never got to the cash register, though, because you saw someone. someone you hoped you’d never have to see again, someone whose face you hoped you’d forgotten by now but actually hadn’t, probably never would.

fight, flight - freeze. you tensed up, gripping mingi’s arm suddenly, with a force that left him surprised. it hurt, admittedly, and he had no idea what on earth was wrong, but you weren’t even looking at him. you were staring somewhere in the room, him trying to follow your gaze and seeing you staring at a man that was currently queueing to get snacks.

“what’s up?”

you didn’t reply to his question, though; you hadn’t even fully registered that he’d asked something.

“let’s go.”

“but the movie-?”

“let’s go!” desperately trying not to yell so he wouldn’t see you, wouldn’t recognise you, but it was hard because you had to get out of there, had to convince mingi to get you out of there, and he seemed to really want to watch that fucking movie. you were half dragging him outside, hoping you hadn’t made a fuss, hoping you hadn’t caught his attention, but the fear was already bubbling up in you. you had to get home, right now, and you told the boy that.

“i’m going to bring you home.” it was a statement, not a question; there was no way he was going to let you take the train and walk to your apartment all by yourself when you looked like you were barely even there right now. and you didn’t protest, honestly didn’t care. you just had to get home.

by the time you were home it hadn’t gotten better, though, quite the opposite - your breathing was regular but shallow, you felt dizzy, and you kept replaying that night over and over in your head. you needed to do something, and there was only one thing you knew to do in those situations, so instead of thinking logically you turned to mingi, who had entered with you, determined to make sure you’d be okay, whatever the problem was.

“please fuck me.” you were desperate, wanted to erase the memories, wanted to erase the dirty feeling, wanted to erase every single one of the man’s touches, and you knew having someone else touch you would do that, at least for the moment. and mingi was the only one that was there.

“no.” stern. you’d never heard him sound as serious as this, even though he did look surprised by your suggestion. plea?

“just fuck me, mingi”, you begged again, but he wouldn’t. of course he wouldn’t, because you weren’t okay and he wasn’t going to touch you at all if you weren’t in your right mind. even if you asked him to.

“i’m not going to do that, y/n.”

and while you should be grateful that he had morals like this in that moment it just made you angry, unreasonably angry, and you snapped at him even though he’d done nothing to deserve it. even though he’d brought you home and made sure you were okay, without even knowing what was wrong. even though he was so sweet and you were so grateful for his kindness you snapped at him.

“then just fucking leave.”

so he did.

he didn’t come to your work after that. he didn’t text you, made no attempt to contact you. he was gone, because you’d fucked up again. because you’d wanted to use him again. you felt disgusting, guilty, horrible, and you’d hurt him. not just once, but twice. you didn’t deserve him, hadn’t deserved him right from the start, but you wanted to apologise, at least. even though it was selfish to want to contact him you wanted to tell him that it wasn’t him who was the problem, that the only problem was and had always been you. so, during yet another night that you were spending staring at the wall and hating yourself, you decided to text him.

[y/n]: please dont have me blocked

the few minutes between ‘received’ and ‘read’ were among the most torturous of your life. and when he replied, you felt more relieved than you’d expected.

[mingi]: what do you want

[mingi]: i wont fuck you again

and even though you knew you were a slut, objectively, hearing from him that he saw you that way now, too, hurt. a lot. you hadn’t felt this dirty in years.

[y/n]: can you call me

[y/n]: please

he didn’t want to. he was hurt, of course he was, and somewhat angry at both you and himself. you because you’d only agreed to meet him so you could get in his pants, and himself because he’d genuinely thought that maybe that wasn’t the reason for you meeting him. that maybe you liked him. but even though he didn’t want to, he still called you.

you picked up immediately, but then you didn’t know where to start. you didn’t know what to tell him. the explanations you owed him weren’t something you wanted to sort by phone, definitely not. you wanted him to come over and come clean about how fucked up you were because you did like him, you wanted to spend time with him for him and not for his dick, but that was most definitely not what he’d believe if you just asked him to come over again right away.

“y/n? are you there?”

the emotion in his voice wasn’t one you could place, one you recognised, and you wanted to fucking cry. this poor sweet boy. why was he even calling you? what had you done to deserve his kindness?

“i’m so fucking sorry, mingi.” your voice was cracking, tears starting to run down your cheeks, but you didn’t care to wipe them away. he couldn’t see them, anyway. even if he could, he probably wouldn’t care.

“you made it clear what you wanted. it’s not your fault that i thought maybe you’d actually like me, like as a person. not just for that.”

“it’s not fucking that, it’s- it’s more complicated, okay? but it’s not that.”

he didn’t know how to react. if it wasn’t that, then what was it? what other way was there to interpret “just fuck me”? it wasn’t exactly something to misunderstand.

“then what is it? i’m not some toy, y/n, so if you don’t do friendships either tell me now. don’t make both of us waste our time.”

you could tell he was angry, and you could tell he was hurt. and you could understand him, you could. you hadn’t treated him right.

“fuck, mingi, i can’t explain like this. this is probably the worst thing i could ask right now, but can you please come over? or i’ll come over or we’ll meet in public, just… i can’t tell you on the phone. don’t make me tell you on the phone.”

maybe it was the way you were sobbing into the line that made him ignore his doubts and his anger and his pain, because it was obvious that you weren’t feeling good either. or maybe he was just a fucking idiot that had fallen in love with someone he shouldn’t have, and now couldn’t fall out of love again. no matter what it was, he agreed.

“right now? i can come over, but promise… promise you won’t try that again if i do.”

“i promise.” it was barely audible, disrupted by sobs, but he understood you anyway, and he told you he’d be there soon. and before you had a chance to reply he hung up.

the time spent waiting for him was horrible, part of you expecting him to never actually come. but he did, he kept his promise, texting you that he was in front of your door now. he just couldn’t get himself to ring.

his expression had been cold for only a few seconds before he realised the sorry state you were in, softening immediately as he did so. that only made you hate yourself more - you’d hurt him, horribly so, made him feel like a toy for you to use, and still he looked at you with those soft eyes.

“you don’t deserve this”, you said as you moved to let him in.

“just explain.” he didn’t know whether to be angry or worried or hurt, but he knew he definitely wasn’t feeling good right now.

“i have issues.”

it was hard to start. you didn’t want to explain, you didn’t want to say it, you’d never actually admitted out loud what had happened. the hospital had known because it was obvious, because your mother had found you whimpering and hurt and bruised in your garden the next morning, not because you’d said anything. you’d never said anything. hadn’t described him, hadn’t aided in his prosecution, hadn’t done anything. had tried to pretend it never happened and that you didn’t care. the thought of saying it now made you panic, and you went to your night table where the little box of benzos was, taking one because you knew you’d need it. then you turned back to mingi, who was still looking at you with a weird expression.

“i fuck to forget. that’s why i usually try to make so sure i don’t take people home that haven’t done it before, because they deserve so much better than that for their first. you would’ve deserved so much better than that.”

taking in a deep breath. you had to say it now.

“i didn’t have that choice for my first and i… i don’t know how else to deal with things. besides fucking around and pretending that it doesn’t matter. i’m a fucking slut, mingi, i’m just a stupid fucking slut, and i-”

your sobs had taken over and you felt pathetic. you owed him an apology, not a breakdown. you owed him the option to get angry at you, to scream at you, but you knew he wouldn’t when you were crying like this - he was way too sweet for that. still, you couldn’t stand to look at him. you didn’t want to see the disgust that you knew would be clear on his face. he’d already sounded disgusted by your behaviour before, you didn’t want to imagine how much worse it would be now.

“can i hug you?”

did you hear right? had he really just offered to hug you, despite knowing what he knew?

“i don’t deserve it. i’m… you’re still clean.”

he had a feeling that trying to convince you that you weren’t dirty either would be a lost cause right now, so he didn’t.

“if i just do it anyway, will you let me?”

you didn’t have the energy to argue. part of you really wanted him to. you were selfish. so you said yes.

it only took a few seconds for him to wrap his arms around your shaking form and hold you tightly.

“i promise i wanted to meet you. i promise i just wanted to hang out, i promise, but i… i saw him and i didn’t know what to do and you were there and- and it’s not fucking fair and i’m sorry.” you were sobbing into his shirt and he finally understood. understood the change in behaviour, the way you were so different so suddenly.

“at the cinema?”

he felt you nod and only held you tighter. that did explain things, and he couldn’t even be mad at you anymore. he couldn’t imagine what that must have been like - of course it would shake you up.

“i don’t fucking want to be like this and i want to go on dates and fall in love but i can’t risk it, i can’t fucking risk it. if that turns shit too i have nothing anymore that could make up for it and who’d even want me anyway when i’m just a slut and when i’ve slept with half the campus and when i’ve never been in love and don’t even know how that works? who’d want a mess like this?”

maybe it was really bad timing to confess, maybe he really shouldn’t do it, but his mouth moved before his brain had the power to stop him.

“i would.”

“you’re angry at me. you hate me.”

“that’s not true.”

you chose to ignore it because you couldn’t think about that right now and because he’d probably only said it out of pity, anyway, instead continuing to say all the things you’d pretended you hadn’t been feeling for the past years.

“i just don’t feel like i have the right to do anything else anymore. i’ve already fucked up so bad and everything and i… who says i can just stop now and pretend it’s all good? how can i start making things matter when they’ve never fucking mattered before? i can’t just say ‘okay, the past hundreds haven’t mattered, but this one, this one’s going to matter’, that’s not how it works.”

“can you please look at me?”

in all honesty, the fact that he was listening surprised you, because you didn’t feel like it was something anyone else would care about. people didn’t care about how you felt, so why would he suddenly be the first? but it seemed like he was, because when you looked up at him he already had his eyes on you, with a softness in them that maybe calmed your broken heart just a little bit.

“i know you can’t pretend none of that happened, but it… it doesn’t have to be your first. none of that has to be. you can decide what counts, what requirements there are. you’re still young, you can start over, even if you’ve messed up before. you can just try again. it’s okay.”

his hand was running up and down your back soothingly now and you wanted to stay like that until he’d rubbed all your worries away, because you felt like if he just kept going long enough he might be able to.

“i’m just scared.” you were still crying, but now it was silent tears running down your cheeks rather than the broken, body-shaking sobs from earlier. “i want to be in love but i don’t know how it works. i don’t know if i can. i kind of gave up on that, buried that dream of a family and a picket-fence life and whatever people paint as love and just… accepted i wouldn’t have that. what if i can’t have that?”

“you’ll find someone that’s going to give you all that”, he told you before pulling your head back to his shoulder and keeping his warm hand on your hair, an action that made you feel small but incredibly safe, but that he’d mainly done so you wouldn’t see his face now. he wasn’t intending on getting you to give him a chance or anything, he just wanted to let you know that you weren’t as much of a lost cause as you thought you were, but he still didn’t exactly want you to be staring at him when he was being emotional and embarrassing.

“you just have to give it a try. if you managed to make me fall for you when you kept telling me you don’t even do relationships, i bet you won’t be able to save yourself from all the admirers once you let down your walls a little bit.”

again, you didn’t know what to say. you’d guessed he’d liked you, in the beginning, but with the way he’d been ghosting you (and mainly the way you’d treated him and all the issues you had) you’d thought whatever feelings there were had disappeared. apparently they hadn’t, though, and it was a little hard to figure out how you felt about that. you didn’t want to hurt him again, and in all honesty you didn’t feel like you were in the right headspace to think about this without making hasty decisions. you most definitely had to calm down first.

“you’re tired.”

he wasn’t, actually, but when you got out from his embrace in order to sit on the bed instead, back against the wall, he guessed it was a way to cuddle without having to say that you were cuddling, without having to ask him to cuddle, and he was happy to comply.

it surprised both of you how readily you put your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around him, but neither said anything. this wasn’t the situation to say anything. it was the situation for silence and giving you time.

“how do you know if you’re in love?” the way your voice was so soft and curious and still all quiet from crying made mingi feel a little like he was explaining love to a child, except he was explaining it to the person that made him feel all these things.

“for me, i want to spend time with the person. all the time. i get sad if i don’t see them. even if we’re just sitting in the same room doing our own thing, or eating together, doesn’t matter. i always want to see them. and when i do, it makes me happy. they don’t even need to do anything, i’m smiling. and i want them to smile, too, want them to be happy. so if i know something that makes them happy, i try to do that. and i pay attention to the small details, like how you really seem to like that berry frapino. and then i daydream about that all the time, even though it’s silly. but i think for me a big sign is that when they notice something about me, when they say something about me that i hadn’t noticed, or when they associate something with me, then i get really happy whenever that thing comes up. even if i didn’t care about it earlier, now it just feels really special. they could say they like how red compliments my eyes and i’d be wearing red nonstop, just because they like it and i like them so i like it, too. it’s all really cheesy, though.”

the sweet boy seemed embarrassed, but you were somewhat deep in thought as you let his description run through your mind. you’d been happy whenever he was at the café, and almost hoped you’d get more shifts so you wouldn’t have to tell him you wouldn’t be working the next day. even though he was mainly just watching you work, ordering a drink every now and then, it had been nice to know he was sitting there. always scribbling in that little notebook he had, tapping his pencil against the top edge of it when he seemed stuck, twice per second (had you counted? you didn’t remember that), a regular speed, and you’d imagined that little tap tap when you were home working on your assignments, having noticed that you’d picked the twice a second-tapping habit up as well. and the berry frapino he’d mentioned - of course it tasted good, you’d tried it before, but it tasted better ever since he told you it matched your vibe, so you’d found yourself getting it even when he wasn’t around. looking back at all this, it meant…

“oh.”

not exactly the reaction he’d expected. he looked at you quizzically, urging you to elaborate.

“i guess i’m in love? but i’m not really a good fit for you.”

“how do you mean?” if you were going to tell him that he deserved better than someone with your past again even though he just told you that it didn’t matter to him…

“you’re cute. like, really cute. and i’m pretty much the opposite.”

not at all what he’d expected, and it almost made him laugh. you were worried about aesthetics?

“remember the frapino? the one i keep getting for you.”

“of course.” how could you not when it filled you with a weird warmth even though it was a cold drink?

“i meant it when i said it matches your vibe. you’re cute, too. i know you’re trying not to be, and you don’t look the part, but you’re cute.”

“hm.” you were trying to figure out your thoughts and what you wanted to do, how you wanted to proceed, because the thought of being with him wasn’t as scary as the thought of being with anyone else, but you didn’t want to accidentally lead him on and let him down again.

“what if i wanted to do relationships? or, one relationship. with you?”

he lifted his head in surprise, you could feel it because his cheek was no longer pressed against your hair, but there was no way you were going to remove your head from his shoulder.

“you do?”

you couldn’t tell what he was feeling, his voice coloured by an emotion you didn’t recognise, didn’t know how to place. so, naturally, you got scared he’d been all talk and no action, didn’t like you enough to want to actually be with you. still, you hummed in confirmation, though once more refusing to look at him as you did so.

“you’re not rushing yourself because you’re scared you won’t get another chance, are you? because you’ll get plenty, you don’t have to settle for the next-best thing, you-”

he never got to finish whatever irrational thoughts he was having, because you finally looked up, looked at him sternly, and told him: “you’re not the next-best thing. don’t even think that.” then, your head went straight back to his shoulder, because this was both scary and embarrassing.

“if you want to do relationships...”, mingi started, “if you really want to-”

you nodded against him to show that you did really want to, and he continued.

“if you really want to, we can do that. but i’ll take you out on dates, no objections.”

now you tensed up a little, because the prospect of real dates complete with feelings and everything was kind of making you anxious, still.

“objections?” of course he’d felt your body tense, you were stupid to think he wouldn’t, and that it wouldn’t make him doubt.

“no objections. just… slow?”

it felt kind of ridiculous that you were nervous about going on dates when you’d not been nervous about doing what usually came after dates at all. but there’d never been feelings involved, so there’d never been feelings that could have been hurt. maybe that was why this was so much scarier.

“as slow as you want. but can i see you on campus?”

“mhm.” his neck was just way too warm and soft to lift your head and give a decent reply, it wasn’t your fault.

“i’ll bring you lunch. and little notes. it’s a little late for high school romance, but you’re not gonna miss out on all the embarrassing cutesy things.”

maybe looking at him would be worth lifting your head. maybe. you wouldn’t know until you tried.

“you can cook?”

“well, no”, and his awkward smile was so cute that for the first time, you wouldn’t mind if someone kissed you, because you felt it in you that he wouldn’t ever hurt you - he looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, “but i’m very good at buying food. one of my redeeming qualities.”

the look you gave him was one of absolute adoration and his heart beat so hard that he could physically feel it bang against his chest. he wanted you to be his, and he wanted to be yours. maybe that was the case already, but he wanted one hundred percent certainty.

“are you doing a relationship? are we doing a relationship?”

you wanted to get rid of his uncertainty immediately, but there was also something else on your mind, and you knew this would be the easiest way to bring it up without chickening out, which you very likely would later.

“if i say yes, does that mean you’re going to kiss me?”

mingi didn’t know whether you wanted him to or whether it would be a dealbreaker, but either way his reply would have been the same.

“only if you want me to.”

“yes.”

“yes you want me to or yes we’re doing a relationship?”

he was embarrassed, you were embarrassed, the situation was incredibly awkward, and instead of “both”, as you’d intended to answer, you just told him “yes” again.

“you can always tell me to go slower, or stop”, he told you, trying to stop the happy grin at least until he was sure that you’d understood. when you nodded, there was no holding it back, though, and he quickly leaned in to give your cheek a sweet peck.

“that wasn’t what i meant”, you almost whined out when he was looking at you again, although he was avoiding your eyes.

“i know. but your piercings kind of scare me”, he admitted, obviously at least slightly embarrassed.

“scare you?”

“yeah, like… what if i get stuck and hurt you or something?”

how was he so sweet?

“you’re an angel.”

“my mum says that too.” why on earth had he said that? that was a one hundred percent fool-proof way to embarrass himself. but maybe it was worth it, because a small chuckle escaped your mouth, something neither he nor you had expected.

“she’s right. now kiss me. if ramen don’t get stuck you won’t either.” you didn’t have to tell him that ramen did get stuck - that would be your little secret. at least until experience had proven that he wouldn’t get stuck, because he was very much not ramen-shaped.

he still seemed a little hesitant, and you were about to laugh when you finally felt his lips on yours. you didn’t know how to describe the feeling you got when he did so, but it was a good one. he was warm and soft and though your noses had bumped for just a moment because you had absolutely zero idea what you were doing it felt… perfect. maybe the nose-bumping had played a part in that, too, because it felt so normal and human and authentic, not like something from a movie. it felt genuine, and that was the best thing about it. the way your hands were nervously moving from somehow awkwardly squished in between the two of you to his upper arms to his neck to his face, the way you kind of just let him do the moving and only parted your lips slightly so he could do whatever one did while kissing, the way his breath kind of tasted like pizza - which you assumed had been his dinner -, it all felt so perfectly normal and flawed in all the best ways that you couldn’t have been happier.

“regret it already?”, the sweet boy - your sweet boy? - asked you when he pulled away, half joking and half scared that you did regret it, but there was no way you ever would.

“only if you don’t do it again”, you informed him, and the smile that spread on his face at your reply was able to outshine the sun, if you were the one to judge.

“so i’m a good kisser?”

sillyhead.

“it’s not like i can judge, i don’t have any standard to compare it to”, you teased, because he’d teased you first and because you were happy and the happiness made you do things you normally wouldn’t.

“you don’t need to have tried a good kimchi to know when someone’s made a bad kimchi!”, he protested, and now you laughed, really laughed, not just a small chuckle.

“you’re saying you’re good kimchi?”

“i’m not saying, i’m implying.”

the way he was so cute and so silly and so sweet only made you fall in love more. in love. you were in love with him, almost hopelessly so.

“but i don’t really like meat, what do we do then?”

what he said next made you reconsider if he maybe wasn’t just a bit too silly, though.

“i bet there’s plenty people that would beg to differ.”

“mingi!”

he hadn’t thought a lot before saying it, just seeing it as a normal tease, but when you called out his name like that he got worried that he’d accidentally crossed a line. he was relieved to see you grinning, although you did look like you were about to playfully hit his arm.

“sorry, love”, hoping that the pet name would make up for it. and it did, because your expression changed into one of happy surprise.

“love?” as if you couldn’t believe it.

“love. or darling, baby, angel, sweetheart, i can probably think of more.” though this was him teasing you he most definitely would try to think of more, because you were his love and he wanted you to know even when you were just casually talking.

he didn’t get a reply, instead he got you dropping yourself over his lap in an attempt to have your head reach your pillow. now you were genuinely tired, and you wanted to sleep; though the day had ended well it had been among the most exhausting you’d had in quite a while.

“want to sleep, love?”

if he kept calling you love you’d probably have to get a pacemaker, because there was no way your heart skipping a beat or speeding up every single time he said it was healthy in the long run.

“yes, so come lay down.”

“you want me to stay the night?”

his surprise left you a little uncertain. was that not something you did with your partner? you were incredibly, awkwardly unaware of the rules, so you had no idea whether or not you’d just implied something that hadn’t been your intention to imply.

“if you want?” your face was hidden in your pillow, refusing to look at whatever negative expression might maybe be on his face, but you had no reason to worry, because he just pushed you a little closer to the edge of the bed so he’d fit in next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you tight.

“i move a lot in my sleep, just a warning”, he mumbled into your hair, “and no funny business.” he knew the reasons for your funny business and was fairly certain you weren’t exactly a fan of funny business anymore, or that was the impression he’d gotten, but there was still a little part of him that was anxious. he had no reason to be anymore, though.

“no funny business until marriage”, you assured as you tried to move your face as close as possible to his chest because you wanted to feel his heartbeat, and though neither of you could see the other’s face you both wore the same expression of complete content and love.

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tanyawrites · 5 years

Text

Supernatural Nightclub *title subject to change*

Triggers: murder, alcohol, maybe some social anxiety

As my cab pulled to a stop at the curb, I could hear the loud, bouncy music. I tried to ignore the flutters that were in my chest as I stepped out in front of the infamous supernatural nightclub. I’d never been inside, but I’d been hearing things for the last few weeks. My coworkers, neighbors, and coffee baristas, even, have been talking non-stop about the beings that occupied the space inside. It’s not like the knowledge of their existence is a new thing. We’ve known for years that there were those who weren’t altogether human walking around and interacting with us. No, it was the fact that only just two weeks ago, these same beings were letting humans inside their sacred place, the one place where no one would ask questions about their unique individual lifestyles. That’s what was big news. That we could see how the other half of the population lived and let loose.

I stared at the giant ostentatious neon sign that sat above the entryway where a formidable looking bouncer stood, watching the walkers on the street pass by. I adjusted my dress so that my appearance would match the confidence that I only pretended to have. I don’t know why I’d been talked into this. I didn’t even like going out to clubs, especially by myself. When I’d said as much to my friends, they told me that I had to step out once in a while, making me feel a little ashamed at myself for letting my fears get the better of me. Which was why they set something up with someone on the inside. I shook my head to clear it of my anxieties and walked up towards the bouncer. He immediately stepped in front of me.

“Do you have an invitation?” He asked, leering down at me. He was over six feet tall compared to my five foot six. I opened my mouth but closed it again. I hadn’t actually gotten anything for this. My friends had told me to meet the person they’d set this up with outside the club.

“Well, not exactly.” I replied, hoping he might be able to help. “You see, I’m looking for – “

“No invitation, no entrance.” He stated simply. He stared at me for a brief moment before he went back to looking over my head, as if I hadn’t spoken.

“No! You don’t understand. I’m looking for someone.” I tried to explain.

“Who?”

I stopped. They’d just said he’d meet me outside. “Well, I don’t exactly know – “

“Not my problem.” He said. I resisted the urge to groan in frustration. This was a bad idea. I knew something was going to go wrong, I just expected it to go wrong when I was inside, not before I had even stepped foot on the threshold. “Please, if you could – “

“Ease off, Logan. I believe she’s with me.” The voice came from a man stepping outside the door from behind the giant bouncer.

I felt relief wash through me, but it was short lived. I had no idea who this guy was or even if he was who he said he was. I didn’t want to end up back in the world of Fae forever indebted because one of them had saved me. But when I looked at him more closely, he didn’t seem to have the ethereal beauty that defined the Fae as unique. He wasn’t deathly pale like a vampire. He looked human, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. He was tall, but not as tall as the bouncer. He was probably in his mid-twenties. He smiled at me. “Violet?” He asked, holding his hand out as if to shake mine.

I slowly nodded and grabbed his hand. He must be a shifter, I thought as he let go of my hand. This must have been the man that Tasha had talked to. “Your friend, Natasha called.” I felt another wave of relief wash over me. This was the man that I was supposed to be meeting. “She said you were interested in seeing the place?” I nodded again, not really sure what to say. He knew my name, even knew the name of my best friend, but I didn’t know his name. He chuckled to himself for a moment before he introduced himself. “Drake Evers.”

“Nice to meet you.” I finally managed to get out. Could he read minds?

“Ah! You do speak!” He said with a grin. “Come. I’ll bring you inside. Stay close so no one thinks you are free game.” His grin slipped off as he said this last part. I didn’t ask what he meant, nor did I want to know what he meant. I simply nodded and tried to stay close as he led me inside. The music got even louder, almost too loud. There were people dancing and drinking all over the place. Drake led me over to a bar, inviting me to stand next to him. “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, please.”

He called to the bartender. “A beer, please.” He glanced at me. “Pick your poison.” He grinned cheekily.

“Just a rum and coke.” The bartender glanced at me a little longer than necessary, as if sensing that I wasn’t one of them, then went to make the drinks.

“Why did you want to see this old place?” He inquired as he sipped his beer.

“Oh, ya know.” I replied flippantly. What was I supposed to say? I was too chicken to ever want to see it myself, so my best friend had to set up a time for me to be a functioning member of society with a social life?

He laughed. “No, that would be why I asked. I know why others were curious. But why you? You don’t seem like someone who’s in it to gawk at us nonhuman citizens.”

I sipped my drink while I tried to find a way to respond. “You’re right. That’s not why I’m here.” I took another swig, hoping to have something better to say. “My friend, Tasha, she thought I’d be interested, is all.” I played with the napkin that the bartender had set down in front of me. “No reason, really.” I was hoping he wouldn’t think I was just another fan girl. “Besides, how do you know Natasha, anyway?”

He swigged some more of his beer. “I frequent the diner she waitresses at. Owed her a favor.”

I nodded. “That was nice of you.” I thought for a moment about what I wanted to ask next. I blurted it out before I lost my nerve. “So, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing you’re a shifter. What do you shift into, if you don’t mind my asking?”

He began to answer me, but then glanced over my shoulder. I turned around and found a man and a woman walking towards us. They were definitely Fae. Even in the darkly lit club, they seemed to glow with an unnatural shimmer. The woman had very long, very straight blonde hair and her skin had a blueish tint to it. Her violet eyes passed over me to Drake and she smiled. The man had short spiky hair, also a platinum blonde, his skin though had a blue-green tint to it, very subtle, almost as if his skin were reflecting the sea. He sneered at me briefly through eyes of ice blue and then he, too, passed over me.

“Drake!” The woman said, kissing him on both cheeks. “It’s been too long!” Drake reciprocated then went to shake the male Fae’s hand.

“Drake.” Said the man, shaking his hand.

Drake smiled politely. “Ivy, Crighton, always a pleasure.” He sat back down. “This is Violet.” He swept a hand towards me. I smiled and nodded my head.

Crighton looked me up and down, as if judging whether or not I was worthy enough to talk to. That was typical with the Fae. They didn’t think humans were worthy enough to kiss the soles of their boots. “So, consorting with humans, are we, Drake?” He looked away from me. “I thought you were better than that.” That was the other thing about Fae. They didn’t care who knew of their disdain.

I smiled awkwardly, and Drake cleared his throat. “Violet is a mutual friend.”

Ivy smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I can see.” She stared at me coldly and then went back to Drake. “So, on to business. Any headway?”

Drake glanced at me for a second then back to Ivy. “Uh, no. Not yet. We’re still looking.”

Crighton’s expression turned dark. “People are dying, Evers! Our people! It’s not a game! If you can’t do this, I’ll find someone else who can.”

Drake looked tense. “I understand that. I’m working on it.” He took a long drink of his beer again. “This is not the time to discuss this.”

I felt awkward. I shouldn’t be here. This should obviously be a private conversation. I wondered if this was Ivy and Crighton’s way of telling me that I was an outsider, that I didn’t belong here. Well, luckily for them, I wouldn’t be here after tonight. I had decided that I wasn’t coming back. I took a drink of my coke. I was hoping that they would go away soon. I had planned to ask a few questions before heading out for the night.

The faces of the two Fae were dark and angry. “Be prepared for a lengthy inquisition.” Crighton threatened. He and Ivy turned around and stormed off.

Drake laughed awkwardly. “Sorry about them. They’re Fae and they’re…Ya know….” He looked to be searching for the right word.

“Snooty?” I suggested with a smile. “Pretentious?” I could supply more, but I didn’t think I should push his hospitality.

“Yeah. That.” He said with an amused grin. “But Ivy and Crighton have been acquaintances of mine for many years. I can’t just turn them away at will. It was a great insult to them that I put your company ahead of business.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I finally settled on “I’m sorry.”

He waved it off. “Don’t be sorry. They knew better. That was a power trip.”

I hummed in response. “I thought that might be the case. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to freshen up a bit.”

He nodded his head and pointed and then I made my way to the restroom. The hallway was quiet, not a soul was seen. Yet, it still felt like there were eyes everywhere. It was an uncomfortable feeling. I chalked it up to the location, being in a place where just about every person could kill you at the drop of a pin. When I passed a fourth door, I started to second guess my memory and ended walking into the wrong door. I would regret it for the rest of my life.

I’d opened what must have been a closet. But it not only had cleaning supplies in it, but a dead body in it as well.

Crighton’s dead body.

#writeblr #supernatural #shifters #faerie #vampires #fantasy #murder #tanya writes

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