#((ill try to update again as soon as I can!! also dont mind the slightly diff style i was just trying out a diff brush ashfjk)) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reeesea · 4 years ago

Text

Something Sweet: Part Seven

~sweet home~

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

pairing: minsung, han jisung/lee minho

warning: mild language

words: 4.7k

summary: Home is where your bros at right? right.

a/n: I actually like this chapter, shocker. i hope you enjoy

ao3

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

Minho stared at the video file sitting on his computer, on the familiar application site that had been haunting his mind for the past couple years. The debate he found himself in with himself on whether or not to submit another application, had become his default subject of thought for much of the past few weeks. All building up to right now. Something had tipped the scale though. Something that reminded him if he didn't submit an entry this year, that he might as well have given up on his one dream. His one goal. The only thing that had been keeping him motivated through university. So once again he found himself rationalizing, and knew that if anything he had to try, at least just one last time.

Upload complete, Thank you for your entry!

Minho sighed loudly. He had sent it in. The first part of the application. It was just a basic dance routine supplied by the academy. He had practice and recorded it all within one sitting. Having been a part of a dance crew for much of the past year had allowed him to quickly pick up choreography and perfect it. The other reason being that he wanted more than anything to get the overbearing presence of the audition tape out of his head space as soon as possible. A heavy sigh left his lips as he laid back down on the studio floor, not too long after a ping of his phone revived just enough for him to check his messages.

[Rich Boy Han Jisung]

2:50 pm

Minho-hyung!

I hope your day has been going well~

Sadly, no updates on when ill be free :/

They’re working us hard for the debut

It’s alright Ji, work hard!

You better be taking care of yourself tho...

4:03 pm (new)

Have you heard this song? Made me think of you :)

{link attached}

I hope you like it!!!!

Oh, no i havent

I’ll give it a listen ^-^

As of late it wasn’t uncommon for Jisung to send the older songs he thought he would like. Always saying some cheesy line that was so blatantly sweet it made Minho flustered everytime. This time of course was no exception.

Ping.

HYUNG THAT EMOJI

Asjdnjsfma

I knew I was rubbin goffon you

Kkkkk

Dont get too ahead of yourself

atleast I can still type coherent sentences

~goffon~

Boo :p

Why Jisung was so persistent about sending him songs was lost on the older, but it was a sweet reminder that someone was thinking about him. It had been a while since Minho had even imagined that someone took a few minutes of their day to actually consider how he was doing. It didn't quite make sense to him that suddenly out of nowhere, there was his boy, man, person, who purposefully took the time to dedicate brain cells to his existence. Wild.

Minho hurriedly clicked the link to the song that Jisung had sent. It was an upbeat song, with a strong but subtle strumming of a guitar to keep the song’s pace just quick enough to be comfortable. “There's no one else that could ever hold me like you do.” The lyrics were in the realm of positive longing and companionship, but the dips into minor chords and tone of the singer created a mood of desperation. More than anything, the song brought forth a story to Minho. One that he could see with his eyes close and feel his body wanting to move to.

A smile stretched across his face, as he rose from his spot on the floor, dusting off the dull ache and pressure in his shoulders from having just finished a routine not even 10 minutes ago.

“But I know that I'd be crazy, Not to wanna be the one to keep you up all night”

Woah there Jisung, at least take me out to dinner first. He made a mental note to tease the younger later about his “Made me think of you :)” line later. Already stretching and drawing a plan in his head, Minho took his phone and saved the song, pressing the repeat button twice, to allow the guitar chords and chorus harmonies to carry on endlessly. A smirk stretched into an excited smile. Not wanting to jinx himself, a shy “finally” was whispered in the back of Minho’s mind at the surge of inspiration, but not spoken aloud just yet.

---

Flashing lights, heavy makeup, hot clothing, and too much fog from the smoke machine is all Jisung had thought about for the last couple hours. 3RAHCHA was in their last photo shoot for their debut. The concept photos would be released later through the week, slowly revealing the three members and their group as officially signed with JJP ent.

The multicolor lights had been running through his vision for so long that as soon as he walked into their Green Room, he had almost forgotten what color everything actually was. Looking in the mirror he saw the blonde highlighted streaks in his hair had settled nicely, slightly slicked back. The stylist had surely done their jobs well. Painting the three rappers up to look less like the nightcrawlers they were, and into something that leather and fishnet clad superstars might look like was definitely a challenge. Jisung had his makeup done just enough to give his eyes a smoky look to them, and grey contacts to emphasize his gaze. The ensemble he had on looked like something that had come straight from a catwalk. Fishnets crawling up his arms from his gloved hands and an asymmetrical shit he for sure would not have been able to put on without the help of his stylist-noona. All that plus some leather pants and combat boots, he definitely looked more like his persona J.One than the notorious hoodie clad couch potato named Jisung he usually found himself as.

Having just finished his own solo shoot, he signaled Changbin to head on to the set as he returned. The older nodded from his chair in front of the makeup station, as the artist finished the final touches to his eyeliner. Jisung watched as the shorter rapper walked out to the set in a white puffer jacket that he somehow pulled off, even with the bright red pants he wore. A part of Jisung was thankful his stylist hadn’t taken that many liberties with his outfit, but the makeup and outfit Changbin wore really only emphasized his intimidating stare and the wideness of his shoulders. It was undeniable that their concept photos would come out well.

Chan, who was seated on a couch, eating some of the provided sandwiches, was already hunched over his computer and mixing equipment again, airpods in. Probably working on tracks for their third comeback knowing him. Not wanting to jump right back into work Jisung snagged a few snacks from the buffet and found a chair he could lay on. Listening to music that wasn't work had become a rarity for Jisung in the years he had been with 3RACHA. Of course he always tried to stay on top of the recent pop and hip hop trends, but straying any farther than his trusty morning and workout playlists was more than unlikely.

Lately though, Jisung found himself looking through a lot of random indie, alternative, “western” pop, and especially dance music. The versatility of the genres was comforting to Jisung in the rather turbulent state his emotions and mental state have been in, as the debut approached. Also Minho. Meeting Minho definitely had introduced a whole new set of feelings Jisung was still working on navigating. As he listened to the different songs that populated this radio, he told himself he was just looking for some inspiration for his lyrics and 3RACHA’s new music, but even he knew that was mostly a lie.

Ever since that night at the bar with Minho he found himself always considering the older and what he would think of a song or how he would dance to it, or if he would even like it. After pointing out that he liked a particularly upbeat pop song with melancholic lyrics, during their impromptu karaoke session, Jisung had been delvinging into all related categories to find songs he thought the older might enjoy. He wanted more than anything to inspire his older companion? Partner? (that was a later Jisung question.) but he wanted to repay the man who had allowed him to get out of his creative slump. That night, as soon as the youngest rapper had returned to the 3RACHA “house” he felt the start of at least 5 separate tracks and choruses appear in his brain. His two hyungs jumped into action along with him as Jisung desperately tried to write and record everything that was jumping out of his brain at once.

Jisung remembered Chan’s smile and encouraging words as he fitted a few of his new verses to songs they had previously put on the shelf. After finding a particularly emotional but upbeat song he immediately wanted to send it to Minho. He always got hung up on what to say with the link. Other than the thought vomit that occurred every time he chooses to send him a potentially good song: “Found this song? U Like???” No Jisung, what are you five?? “I think you will enjoy this song. Please give it a listen? :0” No that just sounds desperate.

“You doing alright there Ji, I can hear you sighing through my earbuds?” Chan peeked out from under his styled bangs with a raised eyebrow, sending Jisung into a red embarrassed mess that he had been caught. He hoped his layers of foundation would cover it up.

“Yeah fine fine, don't worry. I’m FINE.” Attempting to hide Jisung curled up tighter into his arm chair. Just be casual Jisung it's a song not a marriage proposal dear god. “Have you heard this song? Made me think of you :)” Good, yes fine. Send.

Minho responded immediately and cutely with an emoji that made his heart jump a little. Minho would respond always with a variation of a “Thanks! I’ll go listen”, but Jisung had yet to receive any confirmation that the older actually enjoyed the links he sent, much less had found some inspiration in them. At this point the only thing he could do was hope. He wanted nothing more than Minho to be smiling because of him.

Officially exhausted, it wasn’t until late when the 3RACHA boys had finally made it back to their apartment. The day Jisung had, had been anything but short. Almost collapsing immediately on the couch. Sana notified them that she had already ordered food to be delivered for dinner and that they should go to bed as soon as they had finished eating. Chan looked like he was about to pass out on the couch before the food even arrived, which was more than likely at this point. After their shoot they were immediately sent to a few other meetings laying out their marketing and schedule plans for the upcoming weeks. Although glad they were able to part with their artistic and career decisions with their company, it did add a lot of work and responsibilities to the trio.

Jisung’s phone had died somewhere after meeting 3 of 5 and he had submitted to having to carry the lifeless brick with him anyway. Not ideal for his wandering mind and anxiety that comes with a few too many stressful meetings. Once finally arriving home he went and plugged his phone in at the charger on the kitchen counter. Lighting up with notification buzzes as it rebooted back to life.

[ 5 new messages from Lee Minho hyungie]

Immediately cursing himself internally for not bringing his charger with him, he opened his messages from Minho ignoring all others.

[Lee Minho hyungie]

5:45 pm

Hey Jisungie, just finished up practice!

Actually may or may not have danced to the song u sent…

Maybe I’ll show you some day hehehehehehehehe ;)

7:21 pm

Han Jisung, did you forget your charger again >:/

Well I’m off to my late shift, I hope you have a good night~

Jisung always found himself smiling at Minho’s before work texts. They were always so cute. Either some sort of sweet well wishing or some other Minho-esque goodbye, along the lines of “don’t die mysteriously while i'm gone ;p” or “Have a good night, try not to miss my WONDERFUL company too much <3”. (The hearts always made Jisung grin hard, even if they were sarcastic)

This night though, Jisung found him almost jumping in victory at Minho’s text.

[Lee Minho hyungie]

12:35 am

YOU DANCED TO THE SONG

Really?!?!?!

What did you like about it?

When can I see????

You better not leave me on read after work!

Jisung tried to imagine what kind of dance Minho would do to the track he sent,and suddenly found himself flush at the thought of watching the other dance. Somehow, watching Minho dance, felt more intimate than any other situation that they’ve shared. Thankfully Minho seemed to want to hold off, so at least of the time being Jisung’s heart was safe. The exhaustion and stress from the day faded ever so slightly as soon as he thought of Minho with coordinating blush to match.

Jisung you lovestruck fool.

“Jisung! Food’s here!!! If you don't hurry Chan’ll eat your portion again.”

“HEY! It was one time.” Laughter filled the apartment gently as they all respectively fought gravity to get up and make their way to collect the food from the delivery man.

---

Minho tore up the stairs and through their apartment door as quickly as he could without spilling the carry out food he had in his arms. The clock was ticking a little past midnight and fear set in that the older would miss their planned celebrations.

Bursting through the door, “Did I beat him?!” The oldest was frazzled from rushing in order to beat their third roommate home from work.

“Barely! I was afraid you wouldn’t make it, with having to bring the carry out.” Hyunjin’s sigh of relief was visible throughout the boy's now relaxed body. He had spent the last ten minutes hoping that they would still be able to pull off their surprise party for the youngest. Pacing around and failing to come up with any backup plans if Minho had been later than Felix. Thankfully for them both, Minho had a way of always being on time.

“Hey all that matters is I made it. Is everything else ready?” Looking around Minho could see that Hyunjin’s bed was transitioned back into the couch setting and that the floors had been tidied up. A couple stray balloons littered the floor as well as a home made “happy birthday felix” sign hung from their living room screen divider.

“Yep, I've just been waiting anxiously for you to get home for the past half hour.”

The door handle of their apartment began to jiggle, signaling the two boys to spring into action. Minho setting down the carry out, and Hyunjin frantically lights candles on the small cake on the coffee table. The door swung open, revealing a disheveled after-work Felix wandering through the door. As soon as the boy turned toward their living room, he was accosted with shouts and the flailing limbs of his hyungs.

“Surprise!!!” “Happy Birthday!!!”

Felix’s smile erased any of the signs of exhaustion off his face immediately as soon as he spotted his hyungs excited expressions. The cake, the streamers, the balloons, and sign all sparked some joyful tearing of his eyes as he set down his things and made his way to the small cake with a few random lit candles on top. The clock had crossed over into the next day as Felix had made his way home, that he had almost forgotten that it was now technically the early morning hours of his birthday. Coming home to joyful cheers instead of their usual exhausted silence had given him a certain happiness that he hadn’t realized he was missing.

For all of three of the roommates this was their first time having a celebration in their small home together. By now the sense of home was undeniable and without realizing it all of them had begun to consider each other and their shared 3 room apartment, home.

The disjointed singing of happy birthday followed by the laughter and conversation surrounded their coffee table as the three enjoyed their small carryout feast and cake. The warmth that their company gave each other lasted well into the night.

“Hyung! It's my birthday, stop eating all the cake!!!”

“I have no idea what youre talking about Lixie.” Minho says while actively taking another bite of their 2 person sized cake.

“Hyung!” The laughter of the oldest filled the room followed by the other two’s not too long after.

“Happy Birthday Lixie~” The smile hadn’t left the freckled boys faces since he had sat down, and remained as he pulled his two roommates into a forceful hug. It was his birthday so the boys both submitted to the clingy nature of their third roommate, as always.

---

It was late into the early morning by the time Minho had checked his phone.

[ 5 new messages from Rich Boy Han Jisung]

A soft pang of guilt hits his chest after reading the younger’s texts and realizing that he did in fact leave the other on read for the better part of the last two hours.

2:43 am

I’m so sorry Sungie!

We were celebrating Felix’s birthday, and I didnt check my phone….

Look at the cute cake we got him!

{photo attached}

Minho sent the selfie of the three of them with Felix’s cake, if anything just to lessen the guilt in his chest. Hoping that the cuteness of Felix’s smile would be enough to forgive him for low key ghosting him for a few hours. Minho knows that on the days Jisung has the most schedules are the hardest for him mentally, and he always tries his best to be there for him and send him a message or two to lessen the load on those nights. The fact that he hadn’t been there tonight filled him with some worry. A part of him hoped that the younger would’ve been asleep by now but their late night track record did not exactly support that.

---

Jisung had been lying painfully awake in his bed for an hour when he heard the buzz of his phone. Slightly upset with his body for not giving into the exhaustion he had gathered from the day, and just letting him sleep, he turned to the side table to check the messages. Awake fully ,but only mentally half conscious, he read through his messages:

Minho. Oh, yay, it's Minho.

Felix’s Birthday. Oh right he had mentioned that coming up.

Cute cake. Aw that cake is really cute… wait.

Birthday.

I have one of those, around this time to-

I missed my birthday. I forgot my birthday. Everyone forgot.

The cute picture Minho had sent was so filled with happiness that Jisung almost let the pain slide and pass the moment by. But something just didn't feel right in letting himself forget his own birthday. The fact that the others hadn’t remembered didn’t bother him too much. Chan, Changbin, they were all busy with schedules and he can't blame them. Especially since he, himself had forgotten. No birthday text from his family either. Unsurprising though since he rarely got in contact with them since moving to Korea in high school. He forgot though.

He wasn’t quite sure why this was bothering him so much. Some people don't even celebrate their birthday, or remember how old they are, but Jisung had always prided himself on never letting his work take over entirely who he was. To exhausted-Jisung, he couldn’t help but feel like this was one step toward losing the grip on who he was, and that was in itself, terrifying.

The coldness of his bed and the dark expanse of his room seemed to only perpetuate the way Jisung felt. Floating, alone, lost. His insecurity was starting to come into focus, and no wonder it had been keeping him up. He had been spiraling for days probably, without even knowing it. The buzz of his phone lit up his face, snapping him out of his own thoughts for a moment.

[Lee Minho hyungie]

2:50 pm

You okay Jisung?

I hope I didn't wake you

Jisung noticed that the app had revealed that he had read the messages and was indeed awake. Unfortunately, exhausted-and--spirling-Jisung was the only one present enough to send a response. Hopefully Minho wouldn’t mind him too much.

You didn’t wake me, was already up :/

It looks really fun hyung

I just realized something too

My birthday was yesterday

I forgot it

Jisung found himself fighting the watering of his eyes as he sent those messages. Why was he crying? He just forgot, he was busy. It was okay. Right? The tears seemed to only cloud his vision more, blocking him from reading the messages from Minho that were buzzing and populating the screen. Not bothering to wipe his eyes, he let them blurr.

Wh- do you- mea- ???

Jis--ng ar- y-- ok--?

I-- sorry i- di-nt -----

---- wa-t --- ca-l?

--sung?

A few moments passed, without him realizing it, as his phone buzzed some more, screen changing to the incoming call screen. Sucking up his tears and drying his damp screen, it took a few tries before answering the call.

---

“Jisung!?” Jisung nearly flinched, just nearly.

“Hi hyung, How was work?” hoping to cover up his tears by changing the subject. Jisung thought it was a pretty good attempt.

“How wa- what, no. Jisung are you okay?” There it was again. The undeniable worry in Minho’s voice. Ow.

“Yeah I’m okay.” Despite Jisung’s efforts it was obvious to Minho that the other had in fact been crying. Not wanting to push the younger though, he allowed him to change the subject

“.... okay, I just want to check in on you. I worry you know, Sung!”

“About me? that's silly hyung.” The distance in his tone replaced Jisung’s usual brightness, and it hurt Minho to hear it.

“I don't think so. How am I to know what my favorite customer is up to? You may be a soon to be rap star but that doesn’t keep you from ignoring your hyung.” Even though Jisung giggled at that, the irony of the statement wasn’t lost on Minho. A wave of guilt washed over his chest as soon as he said it.

“I am sorry though. For not answering sooner and everything.”

And for reminding you of your birthday, and making you cry, and not being there to make you smile.

“No don’t be sorry! That’ll only make me feel worse for bothering you… I think the exhaustion was just making me delirious, I haven't been sleeping well these past few nights.” Minho had to fight his initial protective instincts that told him to scold the younger for not taking care of himself, because a part of him knew that the younger was certainly trying his best to do so.

“Well if you can’t sleep ever, just call me okay? I’m usually up from my shifts anyway. Plus if I'm not up surely one of my roommates is. Felix will probably never let go of you once he finds your birthday brothers." Hearing Minho's laugh lightened the tight pressure that Jisung hadn't realized had been settled in his chest.

"Okay hyung, i'd like that I think."

"You better. My time rarely comes free, and this is a limited time offer." Jisung’s laugh is a little bit more enthusiastic this time.

“Of course hyung.” A silence came over them for a moment. Not an awkward one, more of a point of realization and relief. Like the feeling after having a good cry, in Jisung’s case.

“Happy belated birthday Jisung.”

“Thanks hyung… Did you have a fun time with Felix?”

“Yeah! It was actually a lot of fun. Just some carry out and cake after work, but it was good to relax with them. We don't always have free time together, and haven’t had the chance to celebrate anything until now. Hyunnie luckily found a cake on sale at the mart today, sparking this whole thing.”

Minho remembered the frantic call from the younger as he delved into his plans for giving Felix the “perfect surprise birthday celebration” because he had “found the perfect cake to match Felix’s cuteness.” It was on sale. Also because “Come on Min-hyung Felix would absolutely do the same for us.” Explaining the situation to Jisung really did solidify the fact that Minho knew Felix, would in fact, plan some adorable birthday celebration for the older two if given the opportunity.

“What would you guys have done if he hadn't found the cake?”

“I’m not sure maybe it would’ve just been a carry-out celebration.”

“Still sounds really nice hyungie. You and your roommates seem so close.”

“I suppose shared rent does that to people.” Minho laughed it off but he had begun to cherish the brotherly bond that had grown between his roommates.

Not having ever considered it before, the fact that the roommates were only able to buy a cake because it happened to be on sale, revealed to Jisung that their financial situations may have been farther apart than he realized. Money had never been a barrier that Jisung had to face, always having family (or honestly Changbin) help pay for his living and pursuit of his dreams. Sure he’s had part time jobs in the past but he never found himself worrying about not making enough each month. Not going to university definitely was a large factor in maintaining his “affordable” lifestyle.

“It's nice you do things for each other. I can't remember the last time my hyungs and I have done something together that didn't have to do with our music.” Jisung started to feel some sort of jealousy at the closeness that Minho and his roommate had found in each other. Financial guilt and emotional jealousy are a strange combination for a half conscious Jisung to say the least.

“Are those fools not taking care of my Sung properly? Illegal, tell them to call me I have to yell at them too. They better not be working you too hard.”

‘My Sung’ Jisung almost choked. Almost.

“Nonono Hyung! They take care of me fine, we're all just exhausted with work.”

“Hmmmm okay they get a pass this time, but please relay my threat.”

“Okay okay I will.”

“You should probably get some rest soon. You're busy tomorrow right?”

Jisung yawned in response, which was enough convincing for Minho that he needed to rest.

“Okay looks like it's sleepy time for hardworking Jisung~”

“Wait hyung!” Jisung wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet, even though his body was actively fighting him.

“Yes belated birthday boy?”

“Thank you for not letting me be a sad gremlin all night. It would've been nice to have spent my birthday with you, but you still made me feel better.”

The musings of sleepy Jisung were just about enough to let the fondness burst from Minho’s chest. As much as he continues to hide it, the fondness still seeps into his voice, “Of course, Jisung we always have next year.” A promise he wasn’t sure he could keep but Jisung always made him want to try new things.

“Next year?” The sleepiness had definitely taken over, making his voice much softer than his usual bright edge.

“Yes next year... Goodnight Sungie, call me back if you can't sleep okay.”

“Mmkay, G’night hyungie.” Already half asleep by the time he hung up, Minho was glad that the younger was finally able to rest. Glancing at his roommates huddled together on the couch already drifting off, Minho accepted that it was his turn to finally rest knowing that all his younger companions were all safely sleeping. Hyung instincts he supposes.

-----

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

#skz au #skz fic #stray kids au #stray kids fic #lee minho #han jisung #minsung #leeknow #skz lee know #skz han #stray kids #lee felix #hwang hyunjin

23 notes · View notes

catboymingi · 4 years ago

Text

hurting - in this life and the next chap. 7

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst, a little bit of fluff; soulmates & reincarnation au

word count: 3.9k

warnings: dissociation resulting in some self harming behaviour (reader doesn’t realise she’s getting hurt - she’s not hurting on purpose), dealing with grief, insecurities

the realisation that someone wants your happiness more than their own can be a painful one

instead of doing anything yet, mingi decided to sleep. he wouldn’t be able to do anything right now anyway, since you were asleep, and maybe yunho had come up with a solution the next day. but it was hard, falling asleep, even though you were in his arms, because he had no idea if he should tell you about it or not. he didn’t want to make you feel like he only cared about that, about being soulmates, but he also cared about that - how could he not? it by far wasn’t his main reason for liking you, but he couldn’t deny that it did affect him. and even though he’d told you that yunho liked you, too, earlier, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt for him to think that you might choose his best friend over him, even though he deserved it. he was just anxious, overthinking, or maybe thinking just the right amount, and that made it hard to sleep.

though he did fall asleep, eventually, because he was with you right now and he was your friend and that thought calmed him down enough to enter the land of dreams.

of course you noticed that something was odd with mingi the next day, and you brought it up, but he told you that he just felt a little weird being like this with you, even when you were just friends, when he was still mourning. he also told you that he was worried about you, about how you were feeling, and spent another one or two hours with you before leaving to make sure you’d know he did care about you and your wellbeing. then he left, still seeming awkward, uncertain and anxious, and you texted yunho, who was still texting mingi and trying to come up with what to do, though you didn’t know that.

[y/n]: ask mingi to come over, i dont think hes okay rn

and yunho knew, of course he knew that mingi was far from okay, so of course he would do that.

[yunho]: will do. ill update you once i know more, okay?

he didn’t want to snitch on his friend, he didn’t want to do anything hasty, he wanted to find a solution with mingi before any decisions were made. but he also didn’t want you to worry too much, so this seemed like a good compromise. he just hoped they’d actually find a solution, because this situation wasn’t exactly an easy one.

but because you had no idea what was going on you just waited, though it lasted for exactly ten minutes before you got tired of it and too anxious to sit still and you went to the shelter, hoping to calm down a little. there you stayed for several hours, until mingi messaged you, asking where you were and if he could come over, saying he was feeling better now and apologising for his odd behaviour that morning.

and because you were too soft for him you immediately agreed, waiting at the shelter until he came over to spend time with you.

yunho had asked him to come over, and of course he would. he really wanted to know what to do, he wanted to know how to handle things, he wanted to not fuck up. he wanted to do things right this time, he didn’t want to lose you again.

“hey”, the blond said as he opened the door for mingi, who moved into the flat wordlessly, throwing himself on the sofa with a loud groan.

“i take you still haven’t told her?”, which made the groan louder and had his friend cover his face with his hands.

“i just don’t know if i should”, he almost whined out, so incredibly unsure about everything right now. he wanted to be with you, but he was scared that if he’d tell you about this latest development you’d think he only cared about you for this soulmate business, something that wasn’t the case. while he hadn’t entirely forgotten about it it wasn’t his main motivation, his motivation was wanting to get to know you and getting to be with you and, in part, showing you that you weren’t just a poor copy of whoever you used to be, showing you that you were worth being cherished the way you were now. and because he knew that you wouldn’t let him, these next words left his mouth, something he’d thought more than he’d like to admit.

“i think you should tell her how you feel. it wouldn’t surprise me if she likes you, too, with the way the two of you are always talking. she trusts you, and i know you wouldn’t hurt her. maybe that’s better.”

“are you… trying to set us up?”, yunho asked, confused by the brunette’s words because this was the last thing he’d expected.

“that sounds horrible. i just want her to be happy, you know? and i know you wouldn’t let anyone make her sad, not even me.”

while that was true yunho wouldn’t do this to mingi, even if he did like you - something he’d noticed, but that he’d just accepted as unrequited feelings, because it was so obvious that his friend still meant so much to you.

“i mean, yeah, but you like her, don’t you? you could make her happy, too, just get your shit together first.”

mingi sighed loudly, a long, pained, resigned sigh.

“that’s the thing. she deserves better, don’t you think? better than someone that keeps fucking up because of his own baggage. i can’t promise i won’t hurt her again, and i don’t want to risk that.”

this was so thoughtful of mingi and it showed his friend that he really was trying his best, that he really did care about you, and that he’d even put his own happiness back if it would make you happier. and because he cared so much yunho couldn’t do it, wouldn’t even consider it; maybe if mingi had ignored your feelings and his concerns and just thrown himself in head first yunho wouldn’t have had these hesitations, but because the slightly shorter man cared so much he couldn’t do that. and he told mingi that.

“she doesn’t even like me that way. trust me, she doesn’t”, when mingi was about to protest, “she cares about you. she just wants you to care about her, too. why else would she still give you a chance, hm? if she didn’t care you’d long be blocked, because, in all honesty, you’d deserve it.”

“i guess”, another loud sigh. “but i won’t tell her, not yet, at least. i don’t want to hurt her”, laying down on his stomach on the (too short) couch, almost slamming his head into a pillow in frustration because he had absolutely zero idea what to do. because he wanted to be with you but didn’t know how to go about that. because life kept making things hard for you when they’d just gotten even a little easier.

“maybe you should still text her, though. she worries.”

“mh. i think i’ll go home, i need some time to think. see you, yunho. and thank you.”

and then he left, went home and showered and realised he didn’t want you to worry at all even if he still felt unsure about things, so he texted you, asking to meet up again now to show things were still okay.

mingi looked like he’d cried and tried to hide it when he arrived, hair slightly wet from a shower you assumed he’d taken before he got there, eyes no longer red but still slightly puffy. you had no idea what had happened, but all you could imagine was that he felt guilty because he’d told you he liked you even when it hadn’t been that long since his love had died, something you could understand. or maybe he was overwhelmed with his emotions, something you could most definitely understand, as well. still, he tried to smile at you, coming over to where you were feeding the bunnies once he’d spotted you.

“hey”, obviously still not doing all too well, something you weren’t about to question him about, especially when he was trying to smile at you anyway.

“hey”, smiling back at him, moving your attention back to the bunnies soon after so he wouldn't feel like you were staring.

“again, sorry for acting weird, i was just… feeling weird”, an awkward laugh at his lack of eloquence, but you didn’t mind at all.

“don’t worry about it.”

you knew telling someone not to worry didn’t exactly make them worry less, but it was all you could do right now, telling him that it wasn’t a big deal and trying to act as you always did around him. or, always since you started talking again.

you’d spent about an hour with mingi and he had finally relaxed when your phone buzzed with messages from yunho, several at once, something that worried you a little because the brunette was here with you right now, so you didn’t at all know what yunho could possibly be double texting about. after checking that you had the time to read and reply right now, that there were no animals running around, you unlocked your phone, clicking on the notification in order to find out what was going on.

you hadn’t expected the messages you got, though. when you read them it quickly became very obvious that yunho had no idea that mingi was with you right now, and it seemed pretty obvious that mingi had no idea about what his friend was revealing, either.

[yunho]: i know mingi hasnt told you, but your soulmate mark is gone

[yunho]: dont freak out, its fine, he isnt planning anything

[yunho]: thats why im texting, actually

[yunho]: he told me to get with you, told me that he knows i like you and that you might like me and that even if it means hes not w you at least youre happy

[yunho]: i think hes really changed from when he fucked up, hes learned, and he wants you to be happy more than anything

[yunho]: so while i do like you, i think hes good for you. i think hed make you happy. i know you still like him, and he obviously likes you, enough to try to set you up w me

[yunho]: just thought id let you know

you looked at the phone in shock, unsure what to make of this, unsure what to make of not one but two confessions in the same message, unsure what to make of all the information you’d just gotten, and you almost dropped the little device, completely out of it.

“y/n?”

the man that apparently was really, actually your soulmate seemed worried by your reaction to the messages, and when you showed him the screen he understood what had happened. he didn’t know what to say either, though, but he knew you’d have to tell yunho something, at least, shouldn’t leave him on read.

“please message him back, okay? or i can do it. and then we’ll talk, but he’ll worry if you don’t say anything.”

you nodded, still only half there, and typed up a small message.

[y/n]: mingi is here rn. well talk about it now. thank you

then you locked your phone, staring at the now black screen, completely in shock. you hadn’t even thought about it. you hadn’t even thought about the whole soulmate thing when mingi had held you, or when he’d kissed your head. all you’d thought about was how you wished someone would care about you, really, deeply care, and now you’d gotten that in one of the worst ways you could imagine, because your best friend whom you’d not see as more than a best friend had apparently confessed just like this, and the man you did like seemed to want to set you up with said best friend because he cared about you so much. everything seemed to be going wrong and you had no idea what to do and you felt yourself slowly slip away, something you’d noticed you did when you were stressed, leaving reality so you would first have to deal with things when they’d settled in logically, removing the stress of having to deal with them logically and emotionally simultaneously.

“y/n?”, mingi asked again, looking at you with worry apparent in his eyes but that you missed anyway because you were staring into nothing.

“i’ll bring you home, okay?”, he told you when you didn’t react, and then: “can you tell me your address again? or i’ll take you to my place if you can’t.”

you couldn’t, so he brought you to his place as he’d said, trying carefully to prevent you from getting hurt on the way because it still seemed like you weren’t fully present. he had his arm around your waist the entire time, guiding you, and then you entered that place again, the place that had been your home and refuge for a few weeks and that now looked so different but still the same. it looked… inhabited, maybe, and you tried to focus on all the small details that had changed as he took off his jacket and shoes and you mechanically did the same. then he led you to his room, their room, carefully sitting you down on the bed to figure out what would be best to do right now, whether he should talk or wait until you were more present. he decided to wait, you could tell from how he was looking at you, wait for your next action or reaction.

your next action was looking around; this was the first time you’d ever seen his bedroom, and you’d immediately noticed the picture on the bedside table when mingi had sat you down on his bed, focusing on him and her, taking in all the details to bring you back to reality at least somewhat.

“she’s pretty”, you said once you were kind of there again, and “she was” the man replied, looking at the picture with a mixture of fondness and pain on his face. it kind of hurt, knowing you’d never be as pretty, feeling guilty for worrying about having to compete with a dead person, but she looked ethereal, she looked at mingi with such happiness and he looked at her with an expression you knew he’d never have on his face when looking at you. you were nothing compared to her, you were a mess, you were ugly with your piercings and your hair and your messy, weak body that was still dealing with the effects of apparently having been bed-bound for ages, even if you couldn’t remember, and you didn’t fit with him. you didn’t fit with anyone like him.

“i want to sleep”, even though it was maybe five or six in the afternoon, but you didn’t want to have to deal with your emotions right now and sleeping helped. maybe you were his soulmate, but you were a second choice, not just for him but for fate, too, you weren’t enough and you’d never be the one he wanted. and if you didn’t sleep soon you’d be sobbing in his arms again, something you most definitely didn’t want.

“i want to shower”, you then changed your mind, wanting to cry and knowing that if you stayed quiet you could do so in the shower and he’d never know.

he just nodded, getting out a towel for you and some of his clothes - neither you nor he would want you to wear her clothes -, then brought you to the bathroom, asking you to please not lock because he was still somewhat worried. that was fine with you because you didn’t expect him to come in, anyway, because what was there to see? you weren’t pretty, you weren’t attractive, you weren’t hot. you were a stick and you were a mess and you looked sickly even though you were starting to build up muscle, and nothing of that would ever be something he’d want to see naked. so you closed the door and undressed, the light turned off as soon as mingi was gone, unable to stand looking at yourself naked, too. you hadn’t even known that you had these insecurities until you saw how beautiful she was and how horrendous you looked in comparison, and the first sob escaped your lips as soon as the water was turned on enough to swallow it.

you’d been in the shower for thirty minutes now, and at this point he worried. you’d reacted when he knocked at the twenty minutes mark, so he knew you were still alive, but you hadn’t been doing well when you went in, and when he knocked again and he just heard you whimper he went in.

as soon as he opened the door he was greeted by hot steam coming out, and he could barely see because it was so steamy in there, the air hot and humid. it cleared a little now fresh, colder air was coming in, and he made his way to the shower after turning on the light - why was it turned off in the first place? -, pulling back the curtain because he heard you sob and because the water had to be really hot for the room to be in this state and he worried, he did.

and there you were, skin bright red, the water burning you and you just sitting on the floor and crying.

“y/n”, he almost yelled, shocked and scared, and turned off the water, getting slightly burnt on the tap and from the few drops falling onto his skin even as he tried to avoid the water. then he kneeled down, pulling you to his arms carefully because he didn’t want to hurt you but he worried so much about your sorry state, and you just kept sobbing.

“why’d you do that, why’d you do that, why’s the water so hot”, he repeated, completely overwhelmed, you still sobbing in his arms, but trying to answer.

“i just wanted to feel something”, you told him, “it was so hot but i still didn’t feel anything. it’s not hot enough”, arm moving to turn the water back on, but he stopped you.

“no, no, we won’t do that, we won’t do that, angel”, stroking your head and his heart hurting at how red your skin was. he could only hope you didn’t actually get any burns.

“i want to feel something”, you repeated, and mingi was so overwhelmed, he didn’t know what to do, but he wanted to help.

“can i turn on the water, but cold? maybe that’ll help, maybe it will, but i can’t let you burn yourself.”

he was pleading, hoping you wouldn’t hurt yourself any more, hoping you’d let him take care of you, and when you nodded he felt relieved, making sure the water was at an acceptable temperature before turning it on, gently washing you with the cold water, hoping to prevent it from getting too bad, rubbing your naked body but not caring about the fact that you were naked, caring only about taking care of you even when his clothes were getting soaked.

“is this okay? how does it feel?”, gently rubbing your scalp with the cold water, then your neck and your back and your sides, carefully, trying not to hurt you any more than you’d inevitably be when your senses registered your surroundings again.

“it hurts”, and it seemed like you were starting to come back, the sobs getting more violent again now that you were able to feel your skin be so tight and aching and red from your stupid attempt at feeling something.

“i’m almost done, let me just make sure everything is a little soothed, let me take care of you, i’m almost done”, he tried to calm you down as he rubbed your legs with the cold water again, finally turning the water off and getting up, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around you before he told you to turn around, stripping himself of his wet clothes quickly, drying himself just enough to not soak his new clothes as he put on the pants he’d picked out for you before he told you that he’d put his shirt on you now, asking you to lift your arms if you could so he could do that.

you looked so small and hurt in his massive clothes, you made him want to protect you, and at least for the night he would.

“do you want to go to bed? let’s go to bed, angel”, he told you like he was talking to a child, but it kind of felt like he was. he could tell moving hurt and it made his heart hurt all the more, wanting nothing more than to take at least some of your pain, just enough for you to not be crying out like this because you didn’t want to do anything anymore.

laying down hurt, too, he could tell from how you flinched, and he tried very carefully to not make the bed move too much as he laid down next to you. you were laying on his side, he was laying on what used to be hers, and for a moment he felt a pang in his chest, but now his focus was on you, on trying to make sure that you’d be okay.

“it’s time to sleep. i’m here and if it gets too bad, wake me up. i promise i’ll be here.”

if being alive hadn’t hurt so much you would’ve thanked him, but now you just closed your eyes, and mingi watched your form almost vanish underneath the blankets he’d put on you, hoping that the next morning you’d be okay.

you woke up around one am, as the little clock on the night table told you, with your body hurting and your heart hurting even more. you wanted to be held, to be protected, you wanted to be taken care of.

“mingi”, you whimpered, hoping he’d wake up, “mingi, mingi.”

he shuffled, though you couldn’t tell if he was awake or not, so you continued whimpering, until you felt him sit up, and shortly after you heard his panicked voice.

“what’s wrong? what’s wrong, what’s wrong, are you okay?”

he sounded so scared that you felt bad, whimpering even more because everything was horrible and everything hurt.

“y/n, are you okay? do we need to go to the hospital?”, and although you couldn’t see him he was scanning your body - or, as much of it as he could see - for burns or any other clear signs of you needing immediate medical attention.

“no, i just… hug me, please”, you pleaded, him immediately complying even though he hadn’t expected this to be what you needed right now, especially not when you flinched in his embrace, but when he loosened his embrace and was about to move back you grabbed his hand, whimpering again, not wanting him to let go even if it hurt.

“is it okay? i don’t want to hurt you”, he told you with a soft voice, but he moved back closer towards you, trying hard to not move you as he came to lay as close as possible to you, one arm around you and the other above his head so that that one wouldn’t hurt you.

“don’t go”, you cried, his hold around you tightening slightly in reaction.

“i won’t go. i’ll take care of you, angel, i’ll take care of you”, he repeated against you, over and over, and you fell asleep to his promise.

18 notes · View notes

prettymuchdolansbitch · 5 years ago

Text

Left Behind | Nick Mara

you and nick had a special bond. you guys grew up together because your families were close, but you guys never really socialized with each other at school or anything.

that was until senior year of high school when your boyfriend was caught cheating and Nick handled the situation for you. By handled you meant that he smashed your ex’s nose, bad.

after that incident, you and nick became really close. you went with him to all his auditions and whatnot and he was by your side almost all the time.

It was the summer after you graduated when you guys began your little tradition. Before nick had to leave to LA to move in with 4 other random boys, you asked Nick to take your virginity.

The only reason you did so was because you assumed once he moved to LA, that was it for you two. You thought he’d drop you and that was it. Well, you were half right.

After Nick had moved to LA, he cut a lot of people off from back here at home. Of course you still saw his family from time to time, but even they said that Nick probably won’t be back for a little while.

The first time Nick had visited home from LA, you both somehow ended up at the same local bar. He was with his cousins and you were with some college friends. This night ended up in Nick taking you to his car outside and fucking you roughly in the backseat.

Each time you didn’t expect much. You knew his new home was still the other side of the country. This special little relationship / toxic pattern has been going on for almost 2 years now.

Nick hasn’t visited in a year. Never once has he hit you up in the past year. You were kind of upset at him but also yourself. You had yet to have a boyfriend within the past 3 years because you felt like you were betraying nick by being with someone else. Meanwhile, you were always updated with who Nick was doing or dating.

Eventually, you decided to cut ties with Nick and distance yourself from his family. You started going on dates with different guys that have been trying for you. One night, as you’re getting ready to go out to the club, you see that Nick had posted on his close friends list on instagram.

you open it as you let your makeup set and see that he’s home. “holy shit” you thought to yourself. you took some deep breaths and exited out. you hoped that he would just remember not to text you or anything, but the other half of you wanted him to beg for you.

Nick on the other hand was sitting in the back of his mom’s car with his dog just scrolling through stories when he landed on yours. He saw that you were out and wondered if you were mad he hasn’t come back in a year.

“Aye ma. Do you guys still talk to the (your last name)‘s?” He asked as he watched the video of you dancing with your friends. “Oh yeah. Of course. Y/N hasn’t really been around as often though. She probably got busy with her new job and everything.”

Nick nodded. “new job?” He questioned realizing that he never really ever asked Y/N about her.

“She got a gig with that modeling company? I always forget it. But you can ask her at dinner tomorrow. i invited everyone over.” Nick’s breath got caught in his throat. “tomorrow?” “yeah just a little welcome back dinner for you.”

It was Sunday morning when you woke up to multiple calls from your mother. “Yes mother?” You finally answer her call. “We have dinner tonight at the Mara’s if you’d like to join.” She said straight out.

“Um i don’t think that’s the best idea. With my whole situation.” You said laying down again. You were lucky enough that your mom was your best friend. She knew that you needed to move on from Nick and she did her best to help and understand you. “I know honey. You don’t have to go, me and your father can go and just say you’re feeling ill and that you have a shoot tomorrow morning” You laughed as your mom made the best excuse for you in seconds.

“alright thanks mom. i’ll talk to you later, i gotta walk Moosh.” You hung up and got up. Your french bulldog was laying on the bed just staring at you.

Later on that night, Nick was the first to be ready when the doorbell rang. “Nick can you get that? I’m just changing!” He heard his mom yell. “Yeah!” He yelled back. He added his final touch to his outfit which was his gold chain and gold chain bracelet. The chain was from his mom and the bracelet was from you. He hoped you would notice it and get all sentimental with him.

Nick ran down the steps with his dog following close behind. He unlocked the door and opened the door to your parents. “My second pair of parents! How are you guys?” He asked as he hugged your mom and gave your dad a handshake.

He saw no sign of you though. “ We’re good honey! Let’s go inside before we freeze to death” Your mom laughed as she stepped inside.

“Uhh. i gotta go do something real quick. My mom should be down in a second. Make yourselves at home.” He directed at the kitchen table. Nick immediately ran to the bathroom and pulled out his phone.

He went to find your contact and texted you. “Hey wya”

You were folding your laundry as you heard your phone buzz from behind you. You looked and saw it was Nick. You shook your head and left it alone.

Then it started buzzing more. He started just spamming your phone. You put your phone on do not disturb and continued cleaned your house.

Nick gave up trying to get your attention and went downstairs to have dinner with everyone. During the whole dinner, nick barely participated as his mind was on you and why you weren’t answering as you usually would.

Allie had to slap nick to make sure he was still there. He was zoned out until he heard your name in the conversation. His mom had asked where she was. He made a mental note to thank his mom later.

“Oh she wasn’t feeling good, and she has a photoshoot in the morning. So she’s resting right now” As soon as nick got his answer, he shot up to go to her.

“Do you mind if i just stop over there? Wanna see how she’s doing and everything..” Nick was about to run off when your mom stopped him. “Honey, i dont think that’s the best idea right now” That’s when Nick realized that she lied about you being sick.

Your mom would always let him over even when you didn’t want him. Something had to be going on. “Nick sit and eat” His mom said and continued talking to y/n’s parents.

the rest of the night his mind was on you and you only. whenever someone would ask him about the band or anything in general he would just brush it off or answer dryly.

when the dinner was over, your parents left and nick went to his room. he kept texting you asking where you were and why didn’t you come over.

it was midnight now when you heard a light knock on your window. “what the hell?” you saw nick standing on your balcony looking around.

you open your window slightly. “what the hell are you doing nick?” you ask as he lays his eyes on you for the first time in a year.

“you didn’t come.” he said looking upset. “i know. and i’m sure my mom told you that i have to be resting right now.”

“yeah.. congratulations on landing that gig by the way. i should’ve texted-“ you cut him off before he could finish. “what do you want nick?” you sighed. you were completely over whatever game he was playing.

“uh i. i just wanted to check up and see you.. you weren’t answering my texts and i missed you.”

“nick you should go-“ “wait. please. i’m sorry for ghosting you. i was going through some shit and i -“

“you don’t think i was? you had all your little hoes out in la and i was here, being loyal for what? i’m done nick. we both gotta move on. you live across the country. and-“

“i’ll move back if that’s what it takes” he said staring at you. you shook your head. “you know i would never ask for you to put me above your career. and it’s not the distance. i just don’t trust you nick. I’m sorry. Please go home”

That was the last thing nick expected to hear come out of your mouth. He thought you guys would confess your undying love for each other and live happily ever after.

He knew that dream was over after you shut your window and locked it. Nick had never felt so much guilt and regret. He didn’t want to leave you behind, but things got so crazy in LA, and he could barely keep up.

Leaving you behind would probably be the number one thing he regrets for a while.

#prettymuch #nick mara #nick mara imagines

83 notes · View notes

k-drabblings · 5 years ago

Text

only then (pt. 5)

KIM JIWON (BOBBY) X READER Type | Genre: badboy au | fluff/angst Word Count: 1663 A/N: I thought this was much longer than 1.6k words... Guess not. Also I do update very very slow, I know. It’s mostly because I have no idea what to write next, and I don’t want to write nonsense. So thank you for your patience. I hope this doesn’t disappoint! To be honest, it feels a little weird to write about Hanbin after the huge scandal, but it felt weirder leaving him out of the story after including him in the beginning.

Also wtf happened to line breaks? Why is that not an option anymore? This sucks.

part one two three four

Jiwon looked at the well healed scar on his arm fondly, running his finger along the raised ridge. His smile couldn’t help but widen as his phone buzzed.

[23:22] y/n: i can’t sleep [23:22] jiwon: y? [23:22] jiwon: cause ur too excited to be talking to me? [23:23] y/n: ... zzz ... [23:23] y/n: o look i fell asleep

He chuckled. Within a matter of days, teasing had already become part of their regular banter. So cute.

[23:23] jiwon: ... [23:23] jiwon: do u think ur funny or something bc let me tell u rn that u r not [23:23] jiwon: boooooooo [23:24] y/n: if im so unfunny then y r u texting me hmm HMM??? [23:24] jiwon: cause i pity u [23:24] y/n: ... [23:24] y/n: GOODNIGHT

Even though he knew was joking, his fingers still quickly scrambled to reply.

[23:24] jiwon: im just kidding!! [23:24] jiwon: ur funny sometimes [23:24] jiwon: a little bit [23:24] jiwon: real little [23:25] y/n: then go talk to ur other super exciting and funny friends y dont u [23:25] jiwon: now dont be jealous [23:25] jiwon: the more time u spend with me the more exciting and fun u become [23:25] y/n: ive only seen u like 3x [23:25] jiwon: thats y ur so not funny

His finger hovered over the keyboard, wondering if he should type out the next line. He knew it was probably a bad idea, but he couldn’t help himself. Fuck it. He firmly pressed the upward arrow.

[23:26] jiwon: so i guess we’ve come to the logical conclusion that we should hang out more [23:26] y/n: i guess we have

You felt bold as you sent that last message. Was this considered flirting? You hadn’t known that your heart rate could increase so much within a mere 4 minutes. The past few nights had consisted of increasingly witty and teasing messages - messages that got your heart racing, your face flushing, and your imagination going a little crazy. Nothing even close to romantic had happened between you and him, and yet your ridiculous mind was coming up with possible scenarios that could maybe (just maaaybe) happen in the nearby future. You felt like an silly high schooler again, getting too easily excited over someone you barely knew. You didn’t even know how exactly how old he was or what he did for living.

But all those unanswered questions just made you more excited - kind of like a good mystery book you just didn’t want to put down.

[23:27]: jiwon: ok so whens ur next day off

Your breath hitched. You were off the upcoming Thursday, which was in 2 days. You hadn’t expected the next time you were going to see Jiwon to come so soon. You were used to seeing him like twice a month. You knew you could simply lie and give him your next day off, which was in a week or so, but you knew you didn’t want to wait that long.

[23:28] y/n: thursday [23:28] jiwon: ok cool so ill see u then [23:28] jiwon: and if ur busy... [23:28] jiwon: make yourself unbusy thanks

Your lips curled into a smile. How could someone this cute possibly be bad news?

“You’re distracted, Hyung.” Donghyuk mumbled quietly so Hanbin wouldn’t hear.

“Hm?” Jiwon murmured. “Nah, I’m good.”

Donghyuk’s eyes narrowed as he carefully tried to peer over Jiwon’s shoulder to see what was keeping him so preoccupied. A girl’s name. He rolled his eyes. He was more than willing to bet that this was the same girl that had so nicely bandaged Jiwon up that rainy night. “Let’s keep outsiders... outsiders, okay, Hyung?” Donghyuk warned in a hushed tone.

Jiwon immediately shut off his phone screen and gave his younger friend a long hard stare. “I’m not fucking stupid, okay?”

And of course, despite Donghyuk’s words, he still went to see her on Thursday. They met up later in the afternoon, mainly because he slept in well into the afternoon. Since he did his work mainly at night, his sleeping schedule tended to be slightly off. When he woke up, you were getting some errands done - groceries and such. That gave him some time to get dressed and ready - he wanted to look good for the first date. This is a date right? He hadn’t made it explicitly clear, but he was hoping you were on the same page as he was.

He recalled the the other day that you had said you wanted to try this restaurant that you had seen on some celebrities eating on TV. And since it was on the other side of Seoul Station, they could walk along Seoullo 7017 along the way. He supposed that would be a good, somewhat nice way to start the date.

And you were delightfully surprised at how much Jiwon had actually planned out. You wouldn’t say it aloud, but you had been expecting somewhat of a haphazard schedule of activities that randomly popped up into his mind.

“You look cute.” You jokingly scowled. “Are you saying I wasn’t cute before?” He rolled his eyes and laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He put his hands up defensively when he earned a playful punch to the arm. “Hey, you gotta appreciate my honesty, right?” He grinned. “No, but seriously. You should wear dresses more often.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled shyly, having always been slightly awkward at accepting compliments. You glanced down at your outfit. It was a pretty plain dress, but this was the most dressed up he had ever seen you.

“Where’s the scar from - if you don’t mind me asking?” He asked, pointing to the mark on your forearm. If it hadn’t been for that scar, he probably would have never recognized you. “Nothing cool,” you responded. “Got it while I was helping out at the bakery a while ago. Hot stuff can do that to you sometimes, you know.” He laughed. “See? You’re already getting funnier - thanks to me.” You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly but couldn’t help but join him in laughter.

You were sure he had a fair share of scars all over his body, and also exciting stories behind them. But you were reluctant to ask, afraid that it could ruin the lighthearted mood.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur - partially because Jiwon had convinced you to share a bottle of soju with him during dinner. ‘You can’t enjoy pork belly without soju!’ he had insisted. You had initially refused, being worried that you might end up blabbering and saying something stupid or embarrassing. But Jiwon was one convincing young man.

But luckily the only embarrassing thing that slipped out was a, “Fine, you’re kinda cute, okay?” after he had pestered you about what you thought about him. And boy, did he enjoy that answer.

You were partially disappointed when the date ended with a simple hug. You probably would have thought he were moving too fast if he had gone in for a kiss, but by no means would you have refused. In fact, as much as you hated to admit it, you'd immediately have shut your eyes and puckered your lips. But a long, warm hug was what you got tonight. And you weren’t complaining. "Thanks. Today was really fun,” you said with a warm smile. “Okay, so when can we have fun again?”

All of a sudden, you had something to look forward to every week. Every date with Jiwon was exciting. You got to experience thrilling things like ziplining, but even just sitting at a cafe and chatting got your heart pumping. You felt like your life had been recharged. You had even bravely kissed him on the cheek when he had dropped you off at your door tonight.

As Jiwon walked over to work after dropping you off, he heard a familiar voice calling his name. “Jiwon Hyung! Hyung!” Junhoe shouted from down the block. "Where’re you coming from?” He asked, frowning. Wherever Jiwon was coming from, it wasn’t from the direction of his home. Jiwon played it off vaguely. “Just was doing something. Don’t worry about it.” “Come on, tell me!” Junhoe whined. “Why’s it a secret, huh?” Jiwon pressed his fingers against his tall friend’s forehead and gave it a good shove. “Have you ever heard of a personal space? Look it up.” He couldn’t recall the last time anyone had made him so easily excited, and he wasn’t willing to part with you now.

His friends had also noticed that he was constantly in a good mood these past few weeks. Donghyuk wasn’t too happy about it, but the others seemed to enjoy having a less moody Jiwon around. He wondered if Hanbin knew what Jiwon was getting himself into outside of work. But he didn’t want to tick off Jiwon, so he kept his mouth shut. A pissed off Jiwon was one scary man.

“How long do u plan on keeping this up, Hyung? It’s going to serve as a distraction to you and a danger to her. She doesn’t even know what you really do. If you tell her, do you think she’ll stay?” Donghyuk hissed. “Yeah, right.” “I know. I know.” Jiwon mumbled. This was like the fifth time he had approached him about this issue. He was thankful that Donghyuk hadn’t blabbed to the rest of the guys, but it was a disturbing reminder every time. Why was it so wrong to enjoy it while it lasted?

#jiwon #kim jiwon #bobby kim #bobby #ikon #ikon bobby #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfics #jiwon x reader #bobby x reader #ikon scenarios #kpop imagines

61 notes · View notes

mischiefruled · 4 years ago

Text

week #1 - organizing & outlining

So, just got through with my first week at uni. Only two lectures so far, both mostly full of introductions and occasional interruptions by a healthinspection team for corona. Honestly, didn’t learn anything I hadnt already in a levels, but thats ok. Introductory classes after all. I’m just hoping my one edge lasts when I’m in a class fullll of kids from families of law firms and politicians.

Right now I have a few questions I need to answer.

What do I give priority to here at the start?

How should I divide my studies up? What types of notes should I make? How should I go about this?

What resources do I need to pick and look for?

What is the purpose of this blog?

ANSWER #1

I have a lot to improve on. But to look at each thing is so overwhelming that it leaves me in a state of paralyis. So for now, Im listing them out in order of importance to me

> Get my shit in order. Collect my books, get my new laptop, and set up a good study space

> Figure out my routine. I hate routine. But without any good transport methods it becomes necessary. Two issues with this, one that my mom is difficult and doesnt give me a lot of control on my own schedule. Second is that the library has the texts, but my home has the laptop. I suppose I’ll start taking my ext hard drive but it’ll still be a tad inconvenient

> Make friends and connections. I really need to set up a study system, I like stuydying with people. I also need people to fall back on in case I miss lectures and the like. As much as I hate interacting with people who I can’t be myself around, it will be a necessity. Tangentially related, I need to figure out how I want to appear to others + buy some new clothes for God’s sake.

> Learn TOUCH TYPING. This will be essential if our exams will be given online. Even now I’m typing with jsut two fingers. god. Need to get a speed of 80wpm by the end of this year. Please.

ANSWER #2

I’ve got 5 notebooks so far: class notes, personal notes, cases and summaries, general notebook? [not so sure about this one], and I plan on buying a binder with loose paper to organize final notes. Another thing I need to consider is using OneNote, but that’ll be easier when I finally get my own laptop.

I’ll divide by subject, subjects into chapters, then each chapter as a whole into different aspects to study with.

Primary notes [study guide] + Extra material notes + core concepts and analysis.

Furthermore, summarize each chapter in my own words in an essay form. A blog post from an old LLB UoL graduate recommedned something similar.

Finally, do the activities and tasks at the end of the module.

Now, further along the road, I should start looking up past papers and examiners reports. I should regularly consult my professors too, ask them on my methods and clear up any confusion I may have in my core concepts. Perhaps I’ll find a purpose for that general notebook after all in this regard lol

ANSWER #3

I dont quite know why I asked myself that on this blog post... I’m already looking through the study guide for stuff to refer to. Must remind myself to consult professors on what material is most necessary as well.

ANSWER #4

A few things come to mind. i want this blog to motivate me, first of all.

Collect tips, advice, and resources

Weekly summaries of what I’ve done and how uni went and general areas I need to improve upon

Perhaps I should upload chapter summary essays on here too. If I type out my notes on cases as well I will post them here.

Links and stuff I find interesting

Organize my reading list and how far I am with them. Include them in my weekly updates. Perhaps my weekly updates should also contain my goals for the week

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

WELL now that ive managed to spell all that out for myself, I think ill just talk about other stuff now.

the teachers seem nice. the criminal law prof does sound a bit intimidating but the lsm professor was very lax, and the contract law prof was very helpful in explanations and i had a talk with him about materials.

i met three people in class so far, janita, sofia, and zainab. i will try talking to them more, but theyre all rather shy in my opinion. i met an IR student called nawal, she was very sweet and likes makeup and fashion. we talked enthusiastically within moments of meeting one another, i cant even remember how many topics we bounced back and forth between. very easy to talk to, and she doesnt have an instagram so.. well not to be superficial , but that does my raise my opinion of her.

thats all for the personal section

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

WEEKS GOALS

get laptop

make fee payment to uol

pester SWQ for study guide. i know he has some copies squirelled away i know it..!!!

ask about student gym + again pester SWQ abt the current library system cause.. wtf!

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

READING

In order of importance

LSM UoL study guide [5/7]

Criminal Law UoLstudy guide [3/15]

Public Law UoL study guide [0/20]

Contract Law UoL study guide [0/17]

Learning Legal Rules [0/12]

I made it through 5 chapters with notes within a week. Assuming I can up the pace to about 6, I can manage to get halfway through the rest of these study guides within 3 or 4 weeks.

I only need to get halfway through, because I need to be slightly ahead of the class, not fully. Then I can focus on learning through textbooks, starting with LSM. It’s the most boring, so Id like it out of the way as soon as possible.

#weekly log #mine

0 notes

livi-the-werewolf · 7 years ago

Photo

*Requested*

Request: Can you do a Bellamy imagine where you're ice nation royalty like roans sister and a total badass warrior and Bellamy has a huge crush on you??

A/N: sorry this took so long, i had to rewrite it a few times to get it the way i wanted it to turn out. so i hope you dont mind but i made it so that this is set when the ice queen is still alive and the reader disagrees with her moms leading style so she stays with the skaikru and helps them. also i kinda based their relationship in this off of rosa and charles from brooklyn nine nine. anywho this is mostly fluff and bellamy being a cute lil baby. + im trying something new, and decided to play with the povs a little but because it made the fic cuter. ill see how it turns out and if i dont like it i wont do it again after this. update: ive finally finished this and i dont rlly like the pov switch thing so i wont do it anymore and i dont rlly like how this turned out but im hoping you guys will like it. bye!

Y/N

“Hey Y/n,” Bellamy greeted, interrupting me from my battle strategy talk with Clarke. “Hey,” I greeted back. He walked away and I smiled, looking down. “You like him, don’t you,” Clarke asked. “No! I could never, he’s a grounder. He just makes things a little more bearable over here, that’s all,” I explained. “If you say so.”

BELLAMY

I smiled and walked over to Raven and Abby after talking to Y/n. “Hey lover boy,” Raven said. I rolled my eyes and looked over to Y/n and saw she had began to start training other men, fighting with them and teaching them how to use Tricru weapons. “You like her, don’t you,” Abby asked him. “What? No I don’t! She’s Ice Nation I could never like her. She’s just nice to talk to,” Bellamy denied. “Whatever you say boss,” Raven teased.

I heard a sword clatter to the ground and someone gasp. I looked up and saw Y/non the ground holding her arm, with one of our men above her holding a sword. “Y/n,” I shouted while running over to her. “Leave,” I demanded the man. He nodded his head and ran off.

“Are you okay,” I rushed out, kneeling beside her. “Yeah,” she muttered. My hands hovered over her arm, afraid of hurting her. “Look, my arm is kind of gushing out blood right now so if you could be so kind as to help me up I would be grateful, and might even let you take me out on a date. But we’ll talk about that when I’m not at risk of dying of blood loss,” she told me angrily. “Yeah, of course. Sorry,” I apologized, slightly breathless and in a daze from the thought of going on a date with her. I grabbed her waist and pulled her up as gently as I could. She muttered a thank you and began walking away. I followed behind her silently.

Y/N

”What are you doing,” I asked him, watching as he followed me to Abby. “I’m coming with you to make sure you’re okay,” he informed me. “Why,” I asked suspiciously, narrowing my eyes at him. “Because you’re my best fighter... And I want to make sure you’re okay,” he confessed. I smiled slightly and nodded my head. “Okay.”

BELLAMY

We made it to Abby and as soon as she saw the blood seeping through Olivia’s hand she dropped everything she was holding. “What happened,” she questioned loudly, the concern practically radiating off of her body. “I got a little scratch on the training grounds,” Y/n answered. shrugging a little. Her eyes shut tight for a second and she took a deep breath, her grip on her arm tightening.

“Come over here. Sit down right here,” Abby demanded, dragging her over to one of the beds. Y/n sat down and watched as Abby ran over to grab her medical supplies. I saw her stiffen when she saw Abby grab a needle and medical thread. “Alright Y/n, first I need to clean the wound. Raven, pass me the moonshine,” she said. Raven gave her the moonshine and once Y/n let go of her arm Abby began to poor it over the wound. Y/n’s eyes shut and I could see her body tense up. “This is a really deep cut Y/n. I’m going to have to make a lot more stitches than I thought I would,” she told her regretfully. She sighed and looked up to me. I smiled reassuringly. “Okay, let’s do this,” she said.

Y/N

Bellamy walked over and sat next to me, grabbing my hand when he noticed me staring at Abby as she prepared to stitch me up. I squeezed his hand subconsciously and out of the corner of my eye I saw him blush. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll kill you,” I threatened, gesturing to our linked hands. “Okay,” he replied, still blushing. “I’m ready,” Abby called out. I nodded my head and readied myself. She began the stitches and I felt my breath hitch for a second, before squeezing Bellamy’s hand again and taking a deep breath. I stayed calm for the rest of the time, occasionally squeezing his hand if the pain got to be a little too much. “You are doing amazing Y/n, I’m almost done,” Abby praised. I smiled, Abby has kind of been my mother figure ever since I left Ice Nation. “Thanks,” I murmured.

A few minutes, later my stitches were all done. “Thanks Abby,” I thanked, smiling at her, “Thank you too Bellamy, for being my personal stress ball.” I got up and started to walk out the door before Abby called out to me. “Hold on Y/n, I have a few ground rules for you while you’re arm is healing,” she told me. I paused my actions and reluctantly turned around. “What are they?” “You’re going to have to wait go back onto the training grounds for at least a month. No heavy lifting. Lots of sleeping. Speaking of, you should get some sleep right now,” she told me. I groaned and walked over to the bed, laying down. “Goodnight Y/n.” Bellamy whispered. “Night Bell.”

BELLAMY

I began to walk out the door. stopping when I heard Y/n call out my name, “Bellamy, wait!” I turned around to face her. “Yeah?” “Will you stay with me,” she asked quietly. My eyebrows raised up and I felt myself start to blush. “I-uh-of course,” I stuttered out. “It’s just because I’m injured and if we were to be under attack I wouldn’t be able to defend myself,” she explained quickly. “Of course, smart,” I replied. I sat down on the floor next to her. “You can get into bed with me y’know,” she called out. “I don’t want to hurt your-” “I’ll be fine just come lie down next to me, dork,” she demanded. I got up, blushing for what must’ve been the thousandth time that day, and laid down next to her. She hesitantly laid her head on my shoulder and I put my arm around her. “Goodnight,” I whispered. “Goodnight.”

95 notes · View notes

cheezlogerratum · 7 years ago

Text

A Persuasive Essay

☼

The two duos of half-plastic half-rubber wheels have remained, for the past thirty seconds or so, at rest. Kurtis Spottiswoode, preferably to him Kurt, the owner of the pack, has been repeatedly, over and over, scanning a sign off to the side of the asphalt path. In yellow, it's been telling him:

ATHLETIC EVENT

... with an appropriate arrow pointing to the left. Still, in that same spot, he stands. He can't necessarily tell whether he's trying to understand something he's missing or if he's just spacing out, knowingly looking like a moron, but too afraid to break out of what he believes is a commitment. Even still. Eventually, Mr. Spottiswoode catches onto the fact that the sun has long been set and that there are no "ATHLETIC EVENT"'s in session at this time. His feet succumb to the decline and start stepping across into the parking garage wondering if the sign was placed for a past "ATHLETIC EVENT" or a future one? This is all he seems to think about in the structure, the halides buzzing above and the rumble of the little wheels on his backpack don't even register in his mind. He unlocks and enters his used Camry automatically and realizes he's driving, somehow unable to shake the image burned into his eyes or maybe his head:

ATHLETIC EVENT

←

Mr. Spottiswoode arrived at his apartment complex at around 9:23pm, around a minute or two later than he usually remembers, and follows the rut path up to his apartment on the second floor. The residents on the first were shrieking, almost with no words, but it soon shifted into laughter and niceties he couldn't quite make out. He went to the bathroom, where he unzipped and went about his business looking at himself blankly in the mirror mysteriously installed right above, maybe a little crooked, the toilet. Kurt had small beady eyes and a large forehead mapped out by rows of remnants of brow folds and a receding hairline, brown and faint. The rest of his torso was adorned by a sport coat and a wrinkly plaid shirt, the rest is invisible. It was a lingering revelation in Mr. Spottiswoode's mind that he was wasting away, not really doing much, but he never wanted to address it head on in fear of possible sadness... but, as he undresses getting ready for bed, he wasn't feeling much now? Just sort of following what he'd always been doing and doing at as succinctly as he can, probably to occupy his mind from that "possible sadness".

☼

Kurt was traversing through the input and output population of students in flux all around him, talking into headphones and trading glances back and forth, when he realized—the sign was still up! "ATHLETIC EVENT". He felt a minuscule rush inside of him, slightly increasing the speed of his pace, and making him aware of his breath, of his life. He looked around with his head at anything and everything of interest, impulsively, excited. ECSTATIC! He thought he might be forcing this adrenaline onto himself, but he told himself to shut up. Shut up! He was loving it, and would remain loving it all the way to class, his wheels rumbling at a higher pitch.

Höffus Hall, room 488, was unlocked, dark, cold, and alone for the past thirteen hours or so. Mr. Spottiswoode, with his newfound motivation to live, flicked on the lights and plopped his computer bag onto the table offset at the front of class. He thought of himself as a bearer of life to the once dead or perhaps unborn room, mentally patting himself on the back as students came in at different intervals of time and frequency, totally unaware of their professor's enthusiasm. He unzipped his bag and brought out his old Dell laptop, gray and void of any personal touch. He logged in and fired up Microsoft Outlook, twiddling his fingers as more students populated the room. Outlook revealed itself, updated its folders, and notified the user of an "important message" he received. WOW! Kurt clicked the alert and he was brought to an e-mail sent by an unfamiliar address containing the following:

dear professor,

ive been thinking about alot of things like the paper we were made to write a few weeks ago. i know i haven't finished it and i bet its too late to turn it in now for any grade and i know im failing the class, but i cant fail this class and i think this paper is the only thing that will save me. i hope you understand. ill have the essay done by the start of class on thursday but if you dont accept it or give me a high enough grade to pass the class im going to kill you. i dont want to kill you but i also dont want to fail. i hope you understand.

best, your student

Kurt Spottiswoode read the message over a few more times, just to make sure, again, not knowing what he was feeling, but whatever it was it wasn't exciting. Before he even had the chance to reply, or give the message a sixth reading, or to think about what the hell, just what the hell he was going to do? he looked at the clock in the bottom right and saw it change from 11:13 AM to 11:14 AM right before his eyes, four minutes late. He looked up with a buzzy sharp air behind his eyes, at a loss of what to even do. What to say? Most importantly, WHAT?

"Uhhh," Spottiswoode emitted, "who was it that sent me an e-mail this morning?"

Blank. The look on the students' faces suggested that he had said absolutely nothing. Instead of reading the students for any kind of response, he started to read for any clues, any telling thing coming from any of their persons that might inform him of the presence of a possible murderous psychopath enrolled in his class. There were only 19 students on the registrar but only, after doing the math with his eyeballs for a few seconds, 11 students present. Both the fear of the anonymous student's absence and the regret of not making attendance mandatory via a sign-in sheet and a significant percentage allotted to "Attendance" in the final grade struck him like headlights he wasn't aware he was invading the path of. He quietly surveyed those present in class and what he knew of them. To his knowledge, only 3 students were failing the class, and one of them, Mehi Georgensen, was present, but he knew for a fact she turned in the last assignment. The prompt, by the way, was to write a persuasive essay supporting their opinion on the scientific studies surrounding the spike in American crime rates in the 1970s and 1980s and how experts believe that the trace amounts of lead found in gasoline sold during this time is directly related to the uptick in violence and aggression in people who are exposed to automobiles on a regular basis if not daily. Mehi's essay was roughly 85% blockquotes, 5% topic and concluding sentences, and another 10% dedicated to an enlarged, pixelated image of a red, turned dark gray by the printer, gasoline jug. No, Kurt thought, it can't be her. The other two names failing the class were Eloy Hewitt and Harold Skouras III, both with zeros in the gradebook, but that's all they were to Mr. Spottiswoode. He tried forcing himself to remember who these boys were, what they looked like, who the sick culprit could be. He started to sweat and realized so when a droplet fell from his nose and onto his knuckle belonging to his right hand cupping his mouth out of a side effect of vigorous thought, if you could even call it that. It was now 11:19 AM and Kurt stood back up, hands at his side, eyes open, looking again trying to recognize anyone. He knew who some of the kids were but couldn't remember others because of, what he thought was, a lack of in-class participation. He did, however, recognize Kevin, hands clasped together resting on the table up front, good posture, beaming at Mr. Spottiswoode. Kevin, politely responding to Kurt's gaze, cracked open a smile, unimaginably ready to learn. What a good egg Kurt thought, and looking at this kid, this bright and utterly innocent young man smiling undoubtedly at him, his spirits were lifted by a fraction of security, but that was enough. Kurt breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, clearing his throat, coughing, and began the day's belated lesson.

Sitting in his assigned corner of office room number 528, populated by a desk, a shelf, a disconnected phone with the cord bunched up, various handbooks on MLA, APA, and Chicago format, yesterday's ¾ eaten Subway sandwich, a stack of filled manila folders, a photo of Bruce Springsteen printed out on an 8.5 x 11 inch sheet of paper taped to the wall, and a lamp—Mr. Spottiswoode sat leaned back in his office chair borrowed from the downstairs supply closet, staring, arms crossed, eyes serious, at his computer screen. The e-mail shone through the screen, he couldn't stop thinking. He followed a tangent marveling at the screen itself and its thousands of little pixels made by three columns, red, blue, green, each flickering at him performing as one chunk of some incomplete illusion, creating the image of something that is anything but. Kurt, at a loss, followed multiple tangents like that, perhaps, in a kind of unconscious fashion, trying to find some external excuse or explanation for all this. Surely, surely, it can't be real right? It made no sense, absolutely, completely, totally no sense whatsoever, that this array of pixels that have orchestrated themselves in varying degrees of dimness onto his laptop screen could spell out so plainly and absent of reality his own eventual fate. Well, it doesn't have to come true, does it? Kurt Spottiswoode couldn't believe that he didn't just think of giving in and offering the perp the grade he so desired. Yes. Yes! That was it! He didn't even take into account the circumstance of his academic honor, he had his life! Once again, "LIFE!" He was up, his fists were in the air, his legs were spread apart, and his breathing had escalated into a pant. Yu Quoque, or Professor Quoque as she vehemently prefers, in the opposite corner saw him and witnessing this side of Kurt she had never seen before, she stared, on the phone, mouth slightly agape.

"Where are you," over the phone, "what was...?"

"Nothing," Yu whispered, "just work."

☼

It was Wednesday, the next day, game day! Kurt missed whatever athletic event that happened the day before due to the fact that he was fearing for his life, but now, having found out what to do about the whole situation, he decided to treat himself to a nice, relaxing, athletic event, which happens to be a weeklong championship. Mr. Spottiswoode arrived at the makeshift ticket booth, which was a plastic table with a print out of ticket prices taped to the front side and a cheap cash box guarded by two girls, both with one earbud in whatever ear was facing away from each other, and inquired, "Hello! One ticket for the athletic event and please!"

"Eight dollars please," the girls in unison, almost in harmony.

Kurt immediately took to his various pockets in his coat, pants, and satchel, where he finally found a dilapidated ten-dollar bill with a frowny face drawn on Hamilton's face. The girl on the right snatched it, the girl on the left gave him the ticket, and the girl on the right gave him one dollar in change, but he was so ecstatic and overwhelmed by the butterflies in his stomach that he didn't even realize. He wobbled right up to the bleachers taking it all in, smiling, just like Kevin, and started down the steps. The sun was blaring but the air was freezing, a paradox Kurt pondered on fairly often before, but not today, game day! He found a nice spot just above half way down and sat down next to an incredibly buff guy with, who Kurt assumed was, the man's son wearing a black hoodie and buggy glasses. "Isn't this just great," Kurt broke the ice, "this is just... agh! It! You know?"

"I don't."

"What's your name?"

"... I'm Kurt! Err, Professor Kurt to you though, haha!"

"Goodbye Kurt."

And the big man got up, even more ginormous than he... holy shit—walked down the bleachers, stomping between other attendees and their picnics, to another spot. Kurt stared a while at the man and thought of his nerve, how someone can be so mean and... rude? but he caught himself in the act of negativity and tried to snap out of it, clamping his eyes shut as a reset mechanism of sorts. Upon opening them, he saw the faded green field, but the longer he looked, the more green it got. He started getting the hang of it and tried it on the trees, the bleachers, and even the jumbo man. The spark of an auxiliary cord boomed through the stadium and was shortly followed by T.I.'s "Bring Em Out" featuring Jay Z. "BRING EM OUT BRING EM OUT" The players jogged onto the field and started warming up, running around preset patterns of cones over and over. Just beneath the song blaring throughout the entire area, echoing off the apartments just next door, Kurt heard a voice, "What's today." Kurt felt it to his left and realized the voice was coming from the kid in the hoodie, still sitting where he first saw him.

"Wednesday?"

"And tomorrow?"

"... Thursday."

The kid hadn't even turned his head to Kurt, in fact, Kurt hadn't even seen the kids' lips, only his eyes bulging out of the edge of his hood. "I need you to proofread something for me," the glasses said.

"Do I know you?" Kurt inquired.

"It's important, it's my life's work."

"I can give you my office hou-"

"I feel twisty, I can't move correctly... I'd appreciate this greatly."

"... Ha ha, come on now, let's just enjoy the game?"

"It's only if I express what I mean and get my point across in a certain perfect way and if I have a clear thesis and purpose to the essay and I make myself believable to the reader that I will get an A."

"... Harold?"

"I just need a professional opinion."

"Eloy!?"

"It's not done yet I'm sorry."

And the glasses dropped 8 loose sheets of what Kurt can already make out as a poorly formatted essay and strode his way up the bleachers as swiftly as possible. The sheets were lifted by the wind and flew up down left right forward back, all directly away from Mr. Spottiswoode. Kurt scrambled to follow all of the sheets at once while the image of that hood and those lenses and his voice seared into his mind, playing in a loop, all floating in a superposition playing at the same time, over and over and over again. Kurt caught one of the pages, repeating, "one, one" and so on in his head, adding to the jumble, now worried, now realizing, all at once, that death was way too near. "Two, two two two" but what? He felt silly again, remembering he had a plan, a master one you could call it, but he still felt petrified, sad, wasting away, stumbling over people at an athletic event reaching desperately for pages of an essay a kid is threatening his life over. He lost track of all the remaining pages, looked around, drenched, and saw a page in the middle of the field. He ran down the steps, head bobbing, eyes on the sheet, feeling utterly lightheaded, and sprinted into the field, tunnelvisioned, and bonked heads with a girl swerving out of a row of cones. The audience's collective shocked, "Ooooohh" and a girl nearby's inhaling hissing sound of pain only made everything worse, and he felt like a kid. Mr. Spottiswoode reluctantly opened his eyes and looked at the girl rubbing her head and only thought of himself, how he looked, how people must think of him now, and, somewhat noticing, his stomach sunk. He tried, "I didn't... I'm sorry I'm sorry," under his breath. He grabbed the piece of paper, now grass stained, and made his way up the stairs, eyes down, only wanting to leave, only wanting to go home, and as the girl got up, ready to rumble, the audience broke out in applause.

←

Kurt couldn't even look at Sally Pilckner and her glasses without shuttering somewhat, or feeling some sharp sweat incoming, so for the remainder of her presentation, he looked down at her converse pretending to be following along when really, truly, he's completely lost. He had already taken attendance to no avail, had sort of thumbed through the essay, but hasn't been able to read it, not even knowing if he should or not. So here he is, Kurt, sat, in the back of a classroom, looking at shoes and contemplating his chances of life or death. The ginormous mega man played in his head over and over, torturing himself somehow just for fun, relatively. "Observe," he remembered "Listen, yes!" So he tried, forcing his brain to latch onto everything happening in the room, which—well, he didn't know—wasn't working. He attempted to consciously meditate on the PowerPoint slide stricken on the pull down screen, bleeding off to the edges onto the whiteboard, infuriatingly so, and thought about the words without reading them:

HUMANOID.

CORN.

BC.

And he just thought, tried to imagine. He pictured a humanoid in his head and saw wiggles and a form blinking, on and off. The harder he tried the faster it disappeared. Okay uhh, the corn! He saw a kernel, a nugget, perfectly formed, so well imagined he was impressed with himself. Mr. Spottiswoode sat with that little kernel suspended in his mind, projecting it in front of his eyes, over the words, bouncing it around the room, putting it over Sally's face. "UuuaAAAGGHHHCHOOOO!!"

"Bless you," in unison, harmonious monotone.

Kurt, looking at the culprit's face a bit too long finally realized the kernel had been erased from his mind. The panic struck him and the sweat kicked back in, trying and trying, squinting and bubbling his mouth. Mr. Spottiswoode needed a plan B, so he remembered:

BC.

Okay, this can do. He chugged into his noggin the image of rocks... rocks? And monkeys, for some reason, a wheel? He was doing his best, breathing in and out. "Knowing what uh... how corn was the main commodity in indigenous cultures, what would the world look like right now if we used corn for money?" Dead flat silence, but Sally didn't seem to mind. The class willingly sat in the hoisted dead noise of the room, adding to it every millisecond, everyone thinking someone else will talk, they have to, why aren't they? Why is everyone doing this? And Pilckner, Sally stood face to face to the excruciating silence, swaying, hands clasped behind her back, sniffling, heard a cough, grounding the silence to the utmost potency of bad participation skills. Kurt felt himself walking but didn't remember doing so, and somehow decided to stop right beside Sally, too close, she steps back, and those monkeys are still in his mind, swinging and hooting until they come across a kernel, a big one, glowing in the shattered sun shooting through the tall grass, or the banana leaves, either or? staring at this weird yellow coconut. It's here that they stop moving, their personalities and characteristics put on hold, freeze framed, with the class waiting and peeking under the rim of the table trying to be sneaky superimposed atop the scene before Christ, now at the same time, both immobile, not moving, freeze framed and dead. Kurt stood there until the clock struck 11:58 AM, close enough, and the irresistible sound of ruffling papers and backpack zippers filled the room, sparking some kind of Pavlovian response in the students telling them, "it's time to go", which was probably for the best.

Kurt Spottiswoode decided to keep on driving tonight, not a clear decision but merely allowing himself to do so. Millbrae now, by the BART station, the monumental Chase Bank shining blue up the columns, credit card slots blinking and egging him on, that Peter's Café across the street, still open, still not much business... but boy, oh boy... Kurt took a leap of faith and pulled an illegal U-turn across the yellow line, the toast in his sights. He parked haphazardly and sat for a minute or two, looking at the fog grow on his windows, and waited for it to completely shell his car. He was now encased, in his own little world he thought, free of anything and everything except him and the essay, now sort of dead within the new realm of his. It was only paper, just neatly formed, digitally stamped stains of ink on a page, saying nothing in particular. He wanted to marinate in this, get the feeling then go, and he went. The wet chill struck him as he left the stratosphere he created, and, with the essay in hand, walked into the snoozy joint.

A song he couldn't recognize right away was wrapping itself up, and right when he thought he knew the song, "HI welcome to Pete's Café!" She popped up from right behind the circular bar, knowing he was going to be there somehow. She slapped down the menu, the cocktail menu, and a freshly laminated dessert menu. "Freshly laminated!"

"Yep," Kurt sniffed the menu, "That's fresh for sure, hahahaha!" laughing more for himself than her.

"What can I start you off with tonight?"

"Just toast, please."

"Sweetie, just toast?"

"Yep just toast."

The look on her face spelled imminent harm, then immediately transformed into unconditional hospitality. "Vikas! Toast! Sure thing sweetie," snatching the menus in one swoop.

"Thanks uhh," trying to read her name tag but only caught a V.

He looked around the place, at the lighting hung in trios across the sloped ceiling, the booths hidden by CLINK... Kurt looked down and saw a plastic tumbler, blue and chipped, filled with water and weak ice cubes, but no V in sight. Noticing this, he noticed everything, which wasn't much, just a diner open for business, no patrons. He sat tapping his fingers in a kind of rhythm when "Is That All There Is?" by Peggy Lee jumps on the overhead speakers.

I remember when I was a very little girl, our house caught on fire I'll never forget the look on my father's face as he gathered me up in his arms and raced through the burning building out to the pavement I stood there shivering in my pajamas and watched the whole world go up in flames And when it was all over I said to myself, is that all there is to a fire

Is that all there is, is that all there is If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing...

Once that chorus kicked in he was humming along, eyes closed and drinking out of the mini cup. He opened his eyes and there before him was the essay, off to the side, right where he left it. He was lost in looking, only thinking about reading it, telling himself he wasn't afraid, and then the glasses appeared again, knowing that they belonged to the student, that the student typed this and printed it out, touched it, the net total of his movements to that moment of delivery resulted in the crimps and creases in the pages, the same on every page, again and again.

Let's break out the booze and have a ball If that's all there is...

His hand shot out at the pages and smacked them once, not knowing what to expect, just a release? Kurt looked up and saw V staring at him before she broke out into strides in his direction. He grabbed the paper and started reading it vigorously.

professor Spottiwoods

Rough Draft

Pedagogyy is the study of how tot each a class in school, anywehere, like elementary school or college. I have been in school for almost all of my life and I feel like I have a big say in how I should be taught in school. There has been much discusssion on what progressive pedagogy might look like, but it has always been discussed and taught in regressive pedagogical systems, which is something liek a paradox isn;t it? we seem to think education is the greatest good, it keeps us young, that's what Aristotle thought, but these systems are old, the teachers are old, and theyf ail to realize that they they are only apart of an institu

"SPOTTISWOODE?" Kurt froze in the middle of that word he knew was going to be 'institution', maybe spelled wrong, but couldn't help but feel several shots of adrenaline pumping through his body, his heart trying to compensate. "PROFESSOR SUPERWOOD IN THE FLESH!!"

Mr. Spottiswoode craned his shoulders around to see Zip Baltgalvis—he thinks? —and can only widen his eyes. Zip skips over to Kurt's seat lugging what might be three backpacks at full capacity while Kurt creeps back at the paper, wide eyed, blank, stuck on the same word. Zip spins into the seat next to Kurt's and side hugs him, not responding. "Duuude what's good Spurt? ... It's me!" Kurt turns his head, zonked out, to Zip, frozen in a smile with his fingers turned inwards into his chest. "Zip..." Kurt emitted.

"Ziiiff!" exasperated, "Ziff Baltgalvis! Twenty-fourtee-" leaning in closer for the whisper-shout, "Twenty-fourteen man! Duude! You're here!!"

"I'm... here."

"Yes! Yes!"

"Hey where's my toast..." slurring and directed in the direction of unseen employees.

Ziff looked down at the essay through the blonde frizz hanging in front of his face. "State huh? State huuuhh!!? MAN in the flesh! Front and center, late night!! You know, I've been working on things..."

"Things."

"Things mmhm... some futuristic things," nodding slowly almost to hypnotize Kurt.

"What things..."

"I've been thinking about those things, like to help the future out. Man, Kurt, your mind will be buhlown."

"Uhh... toast," again at the ghost place.

"Yeaaah man toast! You're brain'll fry man right on!"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh you just gotta come and see."

"See what Zip?"

A plate of burnt toast lands and swivels down onto the table in front of Kurt, on top of the essay.

"The future man..." nodding.

☼

Kurt Spottiswoode didn't even know he was fast asleep until his own drool cooled by the leather returned to his cheek, sliding his face into consciousness. Wriggling his fingers, cracking them, still on his side, his arm slept along with him. He was awake, but only with his eyeballs. Everything else was testing the waters. Every few seconds the interior would illuminate, sometimes yellow but most times teal-ish, and Kurt was in it and apart of it, an honorary component of the car. Kurt inched his head up off the seat to get a better look at the LED clock up front. It was 12:02, most likely AM. He plopped his head back down, scrunching his mouth to avoid the drool as he tried making sense of the situation he was in. This wasn't his car, he wasn't driving, he wasn't tied up, he was stagnant yet rumbling across asphalt barely any more than two feet from his wet cheek, as the crow flies. Mr. Spottiswoode liked it here, liking the most being able to pretend to be invisible, or to transcend the state everyone thinks you're in, knowing something no one else in the world knows. It was also the quiet of the interior which implied a disappearance of everything outside and anything in the future, just being able to lay... wait... future...

"COCKADOODLEDOO TEACH! Un-conked?"

"Muh... Zip,"

"Hahyeah,"

"Zi-," stuck on a clog in his throat.

"Honest man, be honest,"

"Where are we going?"

"Dude, you remember this!"

"I...?"

"You can think it man, you can access this,"

"Why was I..."

"If you just reaaally think,"

"Is it... Thursday?"

"Unrelated inquiry, unrelated inquiry,"

"Zip come on-"

"Patience is a virtue,"

"This is fuckin-"

"Woah, woah,"

"This is frankly, fucking stupid Zip!"

"WOOOAH WOOAH,"

"I wanna know! Where am I going? Where am I being taken to?"

"I w-"

"ZIP my foot is down it's being put down right now you got to tell me,"

Ziff looked back over his shoulder at Kurt, now up in his seat drenched in sweat, eyes locked and loaded. The light outside illuminates the car in red for a split second, distant honking. Ziff looks back and forth hoping he isn't seeing and hearing correctly.

"I don't like the way you look right now man,"

"Zip,"

"I don't friggin' appreciate those looks man!"

Ziff is nearly done pulling the car over to the side of the road into the grassy overflow of an empty lot next to them once he says this. The back of Ziff's head jerks about, trying to put the car in park while storming out of the car at the same time. "Jesus... ZIP!! ZIP!" Kurt yells at Ziff with the foggy passenger window in the way, trying to unbuckle himself. "ZIIIIIP!!" It was Thursday, it was without a doubt Thursday, and it all came crashing into Mr. Spottiswoode's stomach. Kurt didn't even consciously think these thoughts, but he knew somehow by the way his neurons scrambled to ignite, scrambling together as one, but the buckle is jammed. Kurt sits back and processes the vagueness of himself at this moment, unconsciously looking around, widening his eyes, tuning out everything in order to tune out himself, and the door closes. He looks up and sees the long hair splitting out from Ziff's head. "Zip, where are we,"

"Mr. Spottiswoode, it'd be really sick if you said sorry,"

"I'm sorry, now-"

"For what?"

"For yelling at yo-"

"And?"

Ziff turned his head around to look through the gap under the headrest, eyes worn and wet.

"And."

"..."

"Ziff."

"No, no no, slip of the tongu- er the mind. I'm sorry. My-"

"I really wanted you to see what I made Mr. Spottiswoode,"

"Sure-"

"When I saw you at Pete's tonight I thought that it was like fate, like that dramatic shit... right?"

"Sure yea-"

"I thought 'Hey Kurt's here, I bet he'd like to hang with me' you know? See me..."

"Yeah,"

"I thought you were gonna be like the guy who pretends he didn't make eye contact or something, and I was bummed out Mr. Spottiswoode. You were like the first guy... to uh... like really, you know, get me stoked on learning shit. And you were eating and I knew that it was like that fate happening maybe, like the universe collapsed on itself for that one time right?"

"Sure,"

"Do you get the same emotions too?"

"Maybe, I don't really know,"

"Cause like, the universe likes us...? Like it doesn't stop turning. It's like it keeps wanting us to know something, like..."

And Ziff stopped, seemingly lost in that universe that led him to what he thought was right now, but Kurt, on the other hand, was back on the paper. "Ziff, I need to sleep I'm sorry."

Ziff dug into one of the three backpacks he dropped in front of his front door to fish out the keys. Kurt was keeping his distance considerable out in the middle of a parking lot, by the car. Ziff tumbled the keys into the lock and cracked open the door, creaky to the point of filing a complaint with whatever de facto powers that be. The place was lit by strung lights around every edge, ceiling, doorway, floor, but only out of necessity of upholding the common courtesy to the household. Ziff lifted his arms in introduction of the place, "Uh, you can crash on the couch probably."

Pots and pans brought Kurt back to the waking world, seamlessly too. What amazed Kurt's brain, the first thought in his head this morning, was how shrill these utensils ringing off each other were and how, somehow, that comforted him. He rubbed the sleep off his eyes and got up to mull. He scuffled towards the kitchen a few feet away and stood in the doorway, drawing a blank at the kid with pleasingly messy hair, jammies, bare feet, flipping a piece of bread with a hole in the middle occupied by an egg. The kid felt his presence and gave a half-nod half-smile, what Kurt came to hypothesize as a newly evolved human instinct. Kurt leaned on this doorway, scanning the room for a clock or any other furnishing that might give him a clue of some kind. A group of kids passed by him, recalling, "...ea and his brother was a raccoon in the firs..." and further down the hall a burst of "pffff" and laughter bounced back to him as he tried logging the series of events in his brain. Looking, still standing, invisible again, superposed in this doorway and periodically thrusting his body off enough to fall back onto the wall. A printer fired up in a room somewhere reciting its rhythm of obeying the data it's been fed, music to his ears but merely instinct to itself. But now the printer was approaching...? It was getting louder and louder, its rhythms becoming more complex, fading into Kurt's range of comprehension, but the closer it got the less he knew, the more it wasn't printing anything. Kurt leaned his torso over to peer through the commons area and into the main hallway, footsteps thrown into the mix now too. An upright arrangement of plastic and spinning metal emerged from behind the opening to the room, then a rubber foot inched down onto the wood floor, and the robot was now recognized by Kurt alone. It continued forward, stopped, made minor adjustments to the placement of its feet, and made way straight towards Kurt. His stomach sank and kicked into some kind of action backwards and to his left feeling his way towards some cover of sorts. Kurt crouched behind the side of the fridge, peering out at the rest of the kitchen. The whirring got louder, again, and the robot emerged, again, stopped, repositioned, continued in Kurt's direction. Kurt stayed put this time only because he couldn't think of anything else other than the fact there was a fucking robot walking straight towards him. The robots innards became clearer and clearer as it approached, stopped, repositioned, and reached for the fridge handle, and pulled it, pinching Kurt's fingers. He freaked out for a split second but didn't want to make any sounds in an effort to preserve the invisibility thing that the robot may or may not have seen right through. The door closed and revealed a jug of soylent in the robot's plastic nubs, repositioning away, and inching back out of the kitchen. Kurt stood up and stared at the robot, mouth wide open, sweat flowing, trying to think of its thoughts and what it must be conscious of to do what it does, where it's stored, what it means to it, does it feel what Kurt feels, does it know? A poke arrived on Kurt's left shoulder and he spun around clockwise to whoever it must be, who turned out to be... "Sorry,"

"Nono I'm sorry," Kurt rattled out.

"Just getting the uh," she reached up to the cabinet above Kurt's head, which he dodged as it swung open.

"Woo heheh,"

"Wanna sit?"

"Wuh,"

"Down?"

"Well okay yeah sure heheh,"

And he looked underneath and around himself and settled on sitting on the tile, criss-cross applesauce. "Do you go here?" she asked, eyes on the readymade pancake mix.

"A- me? No I uhhh... I don't, no. I uh don't. Do you?"

"Yes I go here."

"Pretty cool, pretty cool uhmm... for what?"

"Literature, but I'm thinking of changing,"

"To uhh... ?" shrugging, nervously laughing.

"Electrical engineering,"

"And uh, why's that?"

"I'm working on a project of my own right now with a team of people so I sort of just want time to work on it and E.E. offers independent study in their labs so,"

"What's the something?"

"I've been studying the stichomythia of reading common literature. Technically it isn't stichomythia, but it sounds nice to me for some reason and for what I do. So I study that stuff, the ups and down of laughter, contagious at moments and absent the next. Could you read a book or get its sense and flow from the mere knowledge of the progression of chuckles? Or guffaws? What does a 'guffaw' suggest in a story? This depends on the reader, though, which makes my job complicated. There's a flaw in studying and observing these things with people, who read and re-read, the speed increases and decreases, and this warps and distorts the nature of my work, the laughs and chuckles. Me and my team are now looking at developing a system which reads a book at an average pace, its text, and pinpoints or detects the humorous areas to give us a controlled, concise, perfect result of this landscape, the musicality that might be objective to itself and its language that the common subjective emotional someone simply lacks the capability of experiencing. This is what I do,"

Teams? Landscapes, chuckles, this was all he could pick up on knowing the robot was walking around the place with soylent in its hands. He tried to be interested, but his mind was firing on other cylinders and sputtering out in the process. He was looking at the pan, sometimes focusing in on his periphera and the figures wearing mute colors walking in and out and past in silence—but what was silence to him, Kurt Spottiswoode thought, might have been a universal language to them that he was left out of. "What do you think of that?" He forgot.

"Sounds pretty cool to me!" looking for something to catch his attention.

"Do you read?"

"I uh read lots of things every day yep,"

"Enjoy it while you can,"

"Well, you too heh! I'll uh see you around," offering a small wave and some kind of mouth movement he hoped would come off as normal. As he shuffled his way out, she started to mumble and hum the words to a song, loud and proud, making pancakes. He didn't know, he couldn't know if this was just himself projecting, but it sounded like she was humming the words to "Is That All There Is?", pushing himself away now, embarking himself into the house keeping his ears out for the bot. He stepped softly in hopes of the robot not hearing him, and he waddled and peered around and down the halls, doors open, now releasing lots of machine noise, almost every room. He walked up the stairs with his eyes locked on the chandelier which was smothered in webs and dust blocking the way of any light that might be wanting to pass through and offer itself. He was feeling his way upwards, and at the top he saw another commons area with a few couches riddled in no pattern whatsoever, and on one sat the robot, with its soylent in hand. Kurt sleuthed his way by way of his back to the wall down the hallway, soft stepping. "GOOOOOOD MOOORNIIING PALO ALTOOO," Kurt's body scrunched and searched for Ziff's whereabouts, leaning, dodging nothing, and finally finding it, papers and clutter reaching the ceiling and Ziff sitting in it all like a throne with his soylent in hand. "Where ya been buddy?"

"Ziff listen I have a lot of papers to-"

"Next on the program we have none other than English Composition extraordinaire-"

"Ziff,"

"Bonafide rager-maestro and chug champ 2000,"

"Ziff that rob-"

"AND honorary member of the fun boys themselves, Kurt 'Spurt' Spottiswoode!" as he started clapping by himself, clapping rang out from the rest of the second floor. He wheeled himself on his rolly-chair, stood up, and took Kurt by the shoulder leading him back down the hall. "We are utterly stoked to have you on this morning,"

"Heh I-"

"Mup, I'm asking the questions, I'm the teach... what is the future to you?" holding the air-mike up to Kurt's mouth.

"It's soon,"

"Would you say it's now?"

"No cause... now's the present?"

"But the now always changes right?"

"I guess, but-"

"Have you ever seen the future?"

"No,"

Ziff was now jogging over into the commons area, Kurt already knowing what the punchline would be. "Would you-"

"Ziff, I need to go home,"

"I gotta introdu-," taking the soylent out of the robot's hands.

"Ziff. I'm going," backing down the stairs.

"Kuuurt... Dude..."

And everything seemed to fade out, leaving only Kurt's mind reeling in place. He got out onto the street and started following it wherever it went, freezing cold outside. He replayed that robot in his mind a long while and kept zooming in on its soylent trying to find a semblance of a clue that would lead him to some peace of mind, but he couldn't, just stuck in replay. Whatever direction Mr. Spottiswoode was heading in, there were trains.

Kurt was staring while his mind rambled out the window. The train, he thought, was way too quiet, an environment that discouraged the cocoon of isolation he loved putting himself into. The tracks might as well have been non-existent, leaving Kurt the sole pleasure of listening to his own ears, ringing to themselves to avoid insanity, an instinct. For a moment, Kurt believed that the window his head was leaning on was nothing but another screen, extremely high definition, millions of pixels perfectly and spectacularly calibrated to fool passengers of any scenic route that might have been perceived. It had to be a conspiracy against the senses. What if the screen was hiding something grim and evil? Like an unforgivable violation of human's rights? Dwindling shacks, bodies slogging around awaiting their doom—if his eyes were to penetrate this screen, he wondered, maybe his eyes would meet someone else's, and maybe he would see something rapturous and impossible there in the shared misery, if that's what it was, only to witness it being cloaked by the train's comfy encasing, vanishing behind perspective.

The corridors of Höffus Hall, human activity simmering down to bathroom breaks and "bathroom breaks", stood in preparation of fulfilling its intended purpose. Direction, visibility, transportation, criss-cross applesauce. Kurt lunged himself up through the stairwell, leaning into the curves of the railing for momentum, his rolly-backpack skipping on the steps, and jumped at the last step for the 4th floor, expecting another. He nearly jogged down the hallway mouthing, "Thursday Thursday, this," as he exhaled every other step. He kept his eyes on his door, erasing anything else from his perception to maximize efficiency. The door opened and out came, rushing, faceless, a slew of students escaping Room 488, breaking off into different directions, unsure if their rut is scheduled correctly or not. The students walking towards Mr. Spottiswoode passed with no regard, purposeful or not, either being plausible he thought. His legs and tiny wheels kept on chugging, though, traversing the hallway renewed with activity indifferent to its origin. Kurt swung open the door and immediately saw Kevin hunched over, shuffling with something. Mr. Spottiswoode moved into position at the front of class, behind his tabletop podium, faux-mahogany desk, and in front of the broken projector screen hanging askew, whiteboard neglected by former courses teeming with information, and sat down in his plastic mold desk chair, which let out a rubbery whine as he landed. Kevin turned around revealing his backpack, filled with five 2" wide binders and what sounded like a load of pencils Kurt assumed were infused with varying increments of graphite intensity, pooling underneath the organization. Kevin became pale as he met Kurt's eyeballs, both of them caught in the act of something untold, implied. The kid, his face tense and vulnerable, who Kurt couldn't believe was the same one who beamed joyous respect at him every single day of class, a scholarly constant, dislodged the frog in his throat.

"Thank you for the semester Professor Spottiswoode. I wrote you a reflection highlighting how this course improved my ability to critically think about the world and how it presents itself to us and how I can express my personal perception of it through concrete argumentation and healthy sentence structure," digging into one of his binders from the top, sniffling, "I learned that writing a good essay will help you throughout the rest of your life, establishing pathos, logos, and ethos in order to engage the reader is key to allowing anyone to take what you say seriously, perhaps because deep down these elements and rules that go into a well written essay, like relevant topic sentences, presentation of evidence, and analysis of that evidence..." wobbling exasperation, "perhaps these are the fundamentals of life itself and why we love one another and why we make the decisions we make, even our mistakes. It's all one cosmic engaging, insightful, organized essay that we just can't read quite yet," carefully placing the quarter-inch thick packet on the table, "I learned that from you, and it's something I hope to pass onto my children and their children, and I hope to pursue a Master's so I can teach this truth to the next generation of students like you have. This is a part of my essay, I know it and can't control it, I can only proofread it," he picks up and rushes out the door, teary and red-faced, "You're the best teacher ever!" tripping on the door-stop, his sobs bouncing down the hallway in every direction, the most emotional energy this building has ever experienced, undoubtedly seeping into the firmament of the place, dormant and undisturbed, stored in a feedback loop.

The clock nailed into the wall above the doorway rotated into 11:29 AM, followed close behind by the internal clock in Mr. Spottiswoode's laptop, tucked away in sleep mode inside of Kurt's rolly-backpack. Kurt unzipped the biggest pocket and logged into his laptop, Outlook opening on its own, following orders. The inbox updated and there, waiting, was an e-mail from Ziff with the subject line, "vid of my creation!!!! ;D" Kurt Spottiswoode sat and waited, leaving the e-mail unopened, watching the screen, hand curled into a fist at rest supporting his head, eyes forward. Had he been paying attention, he would've heard the uproar of footsteps outside, vague murmuring, screeching chairs and tables in neighboring rooms to the left, right, upstairs, downstairs, the beeping of high-powered turbo-toasters, motorized longboards whizzing by, trucks backing up, something custodial collapsing, honking, keys jangling to each step, someone quietly running late to class, electrical cars humming, mysterious whooping, and a burst of applause amplified by the valley of dorms just outside the classroom window. Both clocks hit 12:00 PM at almost the same time. Kurt dragged his finger across the trackpad to click the refresh button. Nothing. He hit refresh again. Nothing. He hit refresh. Over and over and over.

←

#big #writing #short story #fiction

1 note · View note