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intruality-overlord · 4 years

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Why Are We (Best) Friends?

Warnings: Excessive swearing, alcoholism, mentions of drugs, drug use, suggestive humor, implied sexual content (no smut), some gore descriptions. Generally, Remus stuff.

Taglist: @blogging-time @veraisnotfine @littlestr @jessibbb @ibroken-butterflyi @hi-its-tutty @idkanameatall

(For these first couple chapters I have tagged people I thought might be interested in reading this. Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!)

The next chapters I will be posting every week on Thursday/Wednesday because this is a prewritten fic (look at me being responsible—)

Chapter Two: Fuck This

The Present.

“That fucker drives me fucking insane!” Patton’s shouting bounced off the walls. “Virgil keeps getting fucking mad at me and I don’t even know what I’m doing fucking wrong at this point, but he won’t fucking tell me what the fuck it is either!” He ranted. Remus nodded along, sat across from him. His legs were crossed with his pointy elbows resting on top, and his spine bent awkwardly so he could settle his head in his palm. Thoroughly entertained, Remus hummed every now and then in agreement like a sham therapist.

“And Roman! He... he... You know why he’s a bitch,” Patton lamented. A cackle shattered Remus’s short-lived, feigned seriousness.

“The last time we saw you was fucking Christmas,” Patton mocked. “Maybe because you didn’t fucking invite me, idiot. Of course Logan wouldn’t, though, all high and mighty smartass. And my puppet idea was a fucking good idea goddamnit. Bullshit. Bullshit!— ugh,” Patton sighed out his remaining traces of frustration. He crossed his arms over his chest and sunk into the green bean bag. Some of the styrofoam beads spilled out a small tear on the poor, battered, ever shrinking bean bag.

Grinning wildly, Remus said, “While that was a marvellous performance, I must say it could do with a little more variety in your profanity.” Patton gave an amused, breathy snort.

“Why are we friends, Remus? You’re such a bad influence on me,” Patton said teasingly. Remus rolled his eyes as Patton plucked another Pepsi can (which contents had most definitely not been poured down the drain and refilled with a concoction of cocktails) from his mini fridge. Remus let Patton hide his alcohol stockpile in his room since his dear friend was so paranoid of the other sides discovering it. “Encouraging me to curse, letting me have access to vodka…”

“Oh, shut up. You’ve become an alcoholic all on your own,” Remus said dismissively.

“...True,” Patton conceded. “You were always more the type for cookie mix,” Patton added as an afterthought. Remus doubled over into a laughing fit. Cookie mix most certainly had nothing to do with cocaine. He couldn’t help but laugh at the smug knowing look Patton sent him as him floundered.

“You— you can’t— I’ve been clean for a few months now!” Remus said defiantly, sinking further into his beanbag with his arms crossed. (Quickly, Remus double checked, pulling his hair over his eyes only to find clear brown, no white in sight. Phew.) Patton hummed sceptically. “But you did have shrooms recently,” he teased.

Remus huffed. “No I haven’t— …Wait—” Remus paused, “Have I?”

“I don’t know,” Patton smiled, “Have you?” Remus let his eyes wander the room. “I can’t remember…”

Patton rolled his eyes fondly.

“You know as long as you’re not over doing it, and you’re being as safe as possible, it’s fine with me. I don’t have any right to judge,” Patton said reassuringly. Yes, Patton knew it was inherently wrong to not at least try and steer his friend onto a less self-destructive path. Remus, to him, was like a hairless Chinese Crested puppy. Very weirdly adorable in the nasty kind of way. (That sounds bad, but he truly means it in the best way possible. What he lacked in hair as a metaphorical dog, he made up for in personality and a good heart muddle somewhere in there). Which meant he struggled to ever say no to him.

Patton also knew that the last thing he wanted to be was a hypocrite. Maybe once he got himself on the right track, then he’d intervene more.

“Seriously, how did we ever become friends?” Patton said genuinely. “I still thought babies were delivered by stalks when we first became friends.”

“I dunno… we just did,” was all Remus could come up with. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. When he couldn’t quite get comfy, he resorted to sitting upside down on the couch instead. Much better.

Silence settled over the two for a minute. Patton stared into space, deep in thought. Taking sips of his drink, he felt the alcohol lethargically burning down his throat. Remus resorted to picking at his nails again in the stillness, wondering if it’s possible to have a tattoo underneath your nails.

“I don’t regret it,” Patton said thoughtfully. Remus cocked his head to the side, neck cracking when his body slipped down the sofa a bit. “Becoming friends with you,” Patton clarified. “You’re the best friend I could ask for, really. You don’t baby and shelter me like the others. You let me just… be,” Patton said sincerely. “Which always seems too much to ask of the others,” Patton tacted on bitterly. He took a generous swig as if to emphasize his point. Remus scoffed, the tiny movement making him slide the rest of the way down onto the carpet. “Aww I’m flattered, honey.” His tone was excessively teasing, yet his expression was anything but.

Midst lazily reaching for another can, Remus swatted Patton’s hands away. “I think that’s enough. You’re already starting to monologue. If you keep going you’ll have a hangover so bad, it’ll feel like you actually hanged yourself,” Remus tutted. While Patton was no light weight (his words hadn’t even begun to slur yet), from the way Patton was chugging it down, Remus knew his body just hadn’t caught up yet.

Meekly lolling his head back to face skywards, Patton whined but didn’t protest. Sinking lower into the cushy bean bag, his eyes traced imagery patterns on the ceiling.

God, Remus knew that look.

“I just don’t know anymore, ReRe,” Patton said defeatedly, “Every time I think I’m over it, they keep giving me false hope. Everything I say and feel is ignored, and whenever I’m right, they always think it’s a stupid flook. They never listen. I don’t think they ever will at this rate. I don’t even know if I want to be friends with them anymore or I’m just really fucking lonely and my brain’s just hard wired to associate, I don’t know, being happy? With them?” His eyes were vacant, dull. “Why can’t it be like when we were little?”

While the whole point of their little get together was for Patton to vent with free will to cuss as needed, this more sappy, philosophical stuff… Remus didn’t like. You can’t blame him for not liking to see his best friend this miserable. Still, he knew it was best to let Patton keep going.

“Even if they did actually care about me, I’m sure they’d stop the moment they knew we’re like… a thing. Logan would think I’m crazy— Virgil and Roman too… I know what they’d think of us and it’s so— so—” Patton made a nondescript noise of frustration. “They’d say you corrupted me or some shit. I… I’m not embarrassed of you. I should stop acting like I am. I hate this stupid dumb angel reputation I have anyway. I’m just… I have to admit the only real reason I haven’t really said anything at this point is it’s kinda funny seeing their reactions whenever I accidentally say something that sounds wrong.”

Remus chuckled. “I don’t know how they haven’t caught on yet, honestly. Your half of our brain cell is just as sick as mine. They must be in denial.”

“Yeah…”

…

“I should be going to bed,” Patton tried to stand up. As soon as he stood however, his knees buckled. Remus dashed to his side and caught him. “You goof…” Remus positioned him upright. Steadying hands on his hips, Patton tried to stand up straight. A task easier said that done when you’re a gay panic. Inevitably, Patton limply collapsed on top of Remus.

“I don’t think I can make it to my room…” Patton’s cheeks flushed and the red ran down his neck.

“You wet noodle.”

“You… blue cheese lover.”

(“Is that supposed to be an insult?”)

(“Who the fuck likes blue cheese?”)

Arm slung over his shoulder, Remus hauled Patton into the hallway and onwards. He would have carried Patton if he hadn’t been so surprisingly stubborn. All well, anything to make him happy. They returned to their earlier, lighter bantering. The alcohol started to really catch up with Patton, his quips came slower. No less witty, though (by their standards).

Everything would’ve gone like normal if it wasn’t for a certain nerd who had decided on a coffee before bed. Most counterproductive. As soon as Logan had started out his room, he spotted them. His eyes settled into a potent, yet subtle glare. Like a droplet of poison spilt on an unassuming biscuit.

“What the…”

“Logyyy!” Patton perked up at the sound of his voice, lifting himself from Remus’s side that he’d been slumped on. The sudden movement made him lose balance. Scrambling to catch himself, Remus found himself with two arms wrapped around his shoulders now.

“Is… is he— are you drunk?” Logan sputtered. Disbelief shaped his words like they felt alien on his tongue. “I’m not thaaaat drunk!” Patton retaliated. Logan ignored him, cold, tired eyes set on Remus. “What did you do to him?” Logan said as aggressively as a guinea pig could manage. Confusion still mostly coloured his stare. “Me an’ Re er havin’ bestie time, duh!” Patton answered. He sounded giddy, but his voice had a touch of satire only drunken Patton could manage. Even in his drunken state, Patton subconsciously was trying to maintain his image.

Remus frowned. This learnt behaviour was ingrained into Patton.

“He shouldn’t be around someone like you in such a vulnerable state,” Logan said, already trying to pry Patton from his arms. “No—” Remus began, looping his arms securely on Patton's waist, “I’ll take care of him.”

“Noooo,” Patton recoiled, trying to melt into Remus’s side. “It's bestiee tiiiimme wi’ Emu.” Patton's arms slid up Remus’s shoulders around his neck as he squirmed. “You’re drunk, Patton,” Logan dismissed.

Seething, Remus shoved Logan off. “You heard him,” he said, sternly. “Back off before I carve out your tongue, blend it, and force feed it to you,” he threatened. Arms crossed, Logan huffed like an exhausted parent. “You’re all bark, no bite,” he dismissed.

“Oh honey, you ha’ no idea how mu’ he bi’es.”

Schooling his face into glares and scrunched eyebrows, Remus sighed out the giggles brewing in his lungs. Nonetheless, Patton was proud of the brief smug smile he provoked. Pretending he didn’t hear that, Logan insisted, “You’re a bad influence on someone like Patton. People like you shouldn’t be around him, especially when he’s inebriated.”

“Better under the supervision of a friend. He’d drink himself to death otherwise.”

“Yes, but preferably, that should be Virgil or Roman or I, most certainly not you.”

“It’s not my fault he doesn’t feel comfortable enough around anyone else, tin can.”

“Re,” Patton interrupted, whining, “I’m bored le’s gooo.” He tugged on him.

“—He’s drunk he doesn’t know what he’s saying— you know what— Okay, Patton, you choose. Me,” Logan pointed to himself, “or him?” He said overly pronouncing his words.

…

“…‘M drunk not a fuckin’ kid,” was Patton’s response. “We go now,” and he was stumbling down the hallway dragging Remus with him.

Both missed the shell shocked expression on Logan, not daring to believe his ears. Patton cursing? An intoxicated Patton, no less? No. Nope. Absolutely not. He needed coffee desperately.

When they finally got to Patton’s room, Remus carefully directed him, even lowering him onto his bed. Patton had the tendency to unceremoniously flop face first onto his bed like a starfish.

“I swear I’m gonna strangle Logan,” Remus muttered as he made sure Patton was comfortable, tucking in his blankets.

“I don’ think he into bdsm,” Patton said as an offhanded thought.

“You never know. He could be partial to a spider gag…”

“You really just want to try that thing out don’t you? I swear to god— oof.” Remus snatched his pillow from beneath his head to fluff it. Pretending to not pretend he was punching a sheep’s limp corpse, he fluffed it extremely thoroughly.

“You gotsa stop relying on me to keep you in check, ya know,” Patton pouted, arms crossed. “Your— you’re fuckin’ innsaaane!”

“I only ask you sometimes…” Remus said (the worst part about that sentence was that it was utterly true).

Blank stare piercing Remus, Patton paused a moment for his brain to function before deadpanning, “I’d like to talk to you about Jesus Christ—”

Remus shoved Patton’s pillow back, and he promptly forgot everything in favour of burrowing down into his bed. Touch light as moonlight, Remus herded Patton’s wild locks from his forehead. “What am I gonna do with you…”

“You’re na’ gon change my mind… kinky b-hole,” Patton mumbled, caught between the conscious world and sleep. Remus’s eyes smiled. Crouching down, he hovered over Patton. Hovered over his forehead, wondering. Pondering, debating, convincing himself. His breath stirred Patton’s brown locks. They scattered like a spooked flock. Running. Patton shivered.

He shouldn’t. Backing away, Remus was ready to switch the lights off and evacuate, yet was stopped.

“Reeemuuuuuss,” Patton called. Suddenly, he was wide awake again.

Huh?— his breath hitched. His hand caught on the doorway.

“Staaaaayyy! Preddy please?” He made grabby hands.

But— they don’t—

Did he deserve…? Right now? His nails dug into the doorframe.

…

“Okay! I’m coming, I’m coming,” Remus assured, relenting. Lazy giggles from Patton rewarded him. Flicking off the light, Remus strode back over. Laying together in silence, Remus picked the paint and splinters out from underneath his nails and waited. When Patton didn’t budge, Remus took his arms and used them like a seat belt. Simultaneously, Patton glued himself to his back like a limpet. A warm wall of heat.

“Remouse?” He mumbled into his shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“You’re really sweet. like… like tomato sauce.”

…

Welp okay then.

Next Chapter:

#WAW(B)F?#sander sides #thomas sanders #ts sander sides #patton sanders #ts patton #remus sanders #ts remus #intruality #moduke #logan sanders #ts logan #remus x patton #patton x remus

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years

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For You

Chapter 2: The Ribbon

“If you laugh one more time,” Lucas threatened through gritted teeth, “I’m dropping out of this subunit!”

Considering the initial stress of Kai’s departure from the subunit, I guess Lucas expected me to tremble at his threat. Instead, I laughed harder, and he glowered at me.

“I’m sorry.” My apology was insincere, but I had to say something when he looked at me like that. “It’s just— Lucas, this dance is so sensual, and my feelings for you are not—”

“That’s funny,” Lucas said without even the smallest smile. “I seem to remember you snapping on Kai at the photoshoot for having a very similar attitude.”

Again I said, “I’m sorry,” this time a little more earnestly before continuing, “It’s just a little embarrassing— dancing with you like this when you’re practically my brother.”

Lucas clicked his tongue and started to argue before realizing he couldn’t. “Yeah.” He laughed at our reflections, which gripped each other tightly. “Yeah, you’re kinda right.” He released his hold around my waist to flick the light switch off.

When Lucas pressed play on our subunit(LX2)’s first finalized song, returned to my side, and once again danced his fingertips across my lower back, I didn’t giggle at the contact. With the only light seeping into the room from under the studio door since the sunlight had not yet broken through the clouds— much less through the windows lining the wall— it was easy to forget that the touch belonged to Lucas. I could pretend that the touch belonged to someone else— someone whose presence didn’t make my heart swell from some fraternal familiarity but, instead, race in anticipation of some unknown affection.

Who did I imagine was dancing with me in the dark? Nobody specific. Nobody I knew. Nobody I met yet or would likely ever meet.

I was not often unsatisfied with my career. I loved performing, and I highly regarded the honor of representing my country as an idol and expressing myself as an artist. But in that moment when somebody who wasn’t Lucas touched me— when I realized at the sudden sound of his voice that this was a delusion, that romance would be a fantasy for as long as I was an idol (which I still hoped would be always)-- my heart plummeted from its height.

Maybe I was lonely.

Maybe we were all lonely.

Maybe it was just a matter of realizing it and admitting it.

Maybe we didn’t know how to admit it; maybe we never would.

“What would you say if I asked you to go camping with me and the guys this weekend?” Lucas asked. The question was almost an act of mercy, an instinct to protect me from thoughts and feelings that had no comfort— that would drown me if explored.

We moved in sync. We were always on the same page even if we weren’t allowed to be. For me, that closeness to Lucas was not an act of rebellion against our industry; I just didn’t know any other way to be.

I said, “I wouldn’t,” and Lucas huffed, frustrated either by my response or because he had fallen out of step. Squinting to watch him leap over to the stereo to restart the song, I added, “Even if Mom would let me go out into the middle of the woods with a bunch of boys— and she wouldn’t!— camping is not how I want to spend my last weekend of ‘freedom’ before the North American leg of our world tour.”

“Well,” Lucas sauntered over me, and we took the dance from the top. “How else do you plan to bond with the guys?”

I hadn’t drafted any ideas to appeal to the members who didn’t already like me. Burning at the reminder that I wasn’t well-received by everybody, I grumbled, “I’m not sneaking out of my mother’s house in a futile effort to get Kai to like me.”

“It’s not just about Kai.” Lucas smirked, “There’s also the opportunity to be alone with Taemin—”

“I don’t want to be alone with Taemin.”

Lucas laughed that shallow laugh he reserved for when he thought I was lying, but I was not lying. I meant it when I said that nothing seemed more distressing than the thought of being alone with Taemin.

“Besides,” I reminded him, “Donghae’s birthday party is this weekend, and we’re all required to go.”

“That’s on Sunday. Taeyong was thinking that we should go on Saturday—”

Before I could repeat that there was no way Mom would let me go camping, unsupervised, with SuperM— before I could explain that even if I wanted to (and I didn’t!), there was no way to sneak out without Mom noticing and grounding us all right before the tour— the lights flashed on. The room was illuminated a blinding white.

When my eyes adjusted, I saw that Lucas’s palm was flat against my cheek— I felt it, warm, coarse— and we flinched away from each other. We squirmed at the commercialization of something so intimate, at the realization that our first tender touches had been scripted, before Donghae’s shrieks split through ears

“Lei!” Donghae’s widened eyes fixed solely on me, and he scrambled to catch the milkshake that was falling from his grasp. “What— what are you doing?”

Had I been doing something scandalous, I might have been horrified by Donghae’s interruption of our dance practice. As it was, I treaded the brink of laughter long before Lucas collapsed on the ground in a fit of giggles.

It was silly that despite knowing my schedule well enough to plan when to bring me a milkshake, Donghae hadn’t known, “Yes, Donghae, my mother knows that I am practicing with Lucas for the debut of our subunit. This was her idea.”

“So she approves—” Donghae set the cup down at his feet to gesture vaguely at me and Lucas with his hands— “of all this. . . touching?”

When I nodded, and Lucas responded with more laughter, Donghae shook his head. “I can’t believe this! I’m going to talk to her!”

I don’t know what he hoped that would accomplish. The executives approved of LX2, and with so little time before the launch of the tour, they wouldn’t recast or disband the unit just because Donghae pitched a temper tantrum to Mom. Besides, I frowned, he wouldn’t have been able to get two words into his monologue with her avoiding him.

“And you two,” he scolded, “keep this door open and this light turned on. We don’t need any more scandals!”

As he sat upright, Lucas’s shoulders stiffened and I held my breath in anticipation of Donghae’s conclusion, “You don’t want to end up like the idol who never debuted!”

It always came back to her.

I was drowning in a nightmare that Lucas and I were on stage together in Atlanta. I was laughing because his fingertips tickled as they brushed against my exposed lower back. Lucas was laughing because he couldn’t imagine being attracted to me like the dance implied. The audience was laughing because our song was ridiculous. Baekhyun and Mark were laughing because that was all they ever did. Kai didn’t offer the smallest smile because he still hated me, and he knew that he could have performed in the subunit without making it a joke. I don’t know where Ten and Taeyong were, but they weren’t standing with Taemin who stared at me in utter disbelief, asking in a silent scream, “How did you ever become an idol?”

I woke with such a start, heart racing and breaths shallow, that I thought the pillowcase over my head was a figment of yet another nightmare until Mark’s voice, uncharacteristically nervous, said, “Guys, I think she’s awake.”

We were in a car, I realized, when we banged into a dip in the road.

“Shit, Baekhyun,” Lucas griped. “Learn how to drive!”

“I can drive just fine! The road just gets a little rockier the closer we get to the lake—”

“Lake?” My word was trapped inside the pillowcase. It bounced around, suffocated me, until Mark spoke up again.

“Lei is awake!” He yelled before pulling the pillowcase off of my head. He smiled so softly that I might have been grateful were it not for the rage that washed over me as my eyes blinked and adjusted to the reality that I was in the back of Baekhyun’s stupid Audi. With Mark. On the way, apparently, to a lake.

Lucas whirled around in the passenger seat. “Finally! How did ya sleep?”

My eyes narrowed as my tongue readied to lash Lucas for participating in some kidnapping plot, but my voice caught in my throat when Baekhyun turned from the darkened road to wink at me. “Pretty good, huh, Lei? I heard ya moaning something about Taemin.”

The color drained from my face and returned as a scarlet blush that I hoped the boys wouldn’t notice under the car’s roof that extinguished the starlight. Baekhyun laughed, and I sank back into the seat next to Mark. I turned my gaze out the window— trying to find the stars or moon through the Autumn trees— and I tried to cross my arms, but they were bound tightly behind my back with some silky fabric. I was too angry or embarrassed to speak even to ask someone to remove the restraints until Mark promised, “You didn’t actually say anything about Taemin.”

I glanced over at Mark, and his eyes were wide. Sincere. Holding his eternal desire to please. How much did that desire relate to his confessed crush on me? How much was it a mere character trait, a summation of Mark Lee?

“Yeah.” Lucas slapped a hand on the back of his headrest to get my attention. “You were totally passed out.”

Relieved slightly, I breathed, “I bet that made it a lot easier for you all to kidnap me.”

“You’d think so, right?” Baekhyun shook his head harder than he should have; there was no way he could focus on driving with his head thrashing like that. “I mean, I’m glad you didn’t scream— and Lucas told me you’re a biter—”

“Dude,” Mark laughed, “that sounds so dirty!” My swipe at his arm made him laugh harder. He probably didn’t feel the sting of the strike through his thick hoodie.

Undeterred by Mark’s outburst (and Lucas’s gagging at Mark’s outburst), Baekhyun continued, “But all your dead weight made you a lot heavier to lug out of that window. And why did you have to sleep on the second floor and make everything more difficult?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sorry. Next time, tell me when you’re gonna break into my house to drag me off on some midnight adventure— without my consent, I might add!— and I’ll be sure to fall asleep on the living room floor couch for your convenience.”

Lucas and Mark snorted at my reply, and Baekhyun said without taking the time to blink, “Thank you for your consideration!”

I wanted so badly to be mad— to keep my brow furrowed in the back seat and scowl so hard that they would have no choice but to take me home— but it was impossible because of the pearly grin Baekhyun flashed at me through the rearview mirror.

It’s unfair, really, that some people should be so cute. Baekhyun, Lucas, and— on occassion, when he decided it best suited his aims— Ten, were dangerously adorable. They could have convinced me with a single smile that they were innocent of murder, I bet. Baekhyun and Ten were conniving with their charms, but Lucas was just cute by coincidence or fate or nature.

Taemin could have been dangerous if he wanted to be, but I hadn’t known him to wield his cuteness as a weapon. Sometimes, I thought it was unfair that somebody should be as unaware of their charms as he was. Looking back, though, I don’t know if he was all that unaware. Maybe he knew well the effect he could have on people with no effort. I didn’t know; I don’t know; Taemin is, was, and always will be something like a mystery.

As if sharing one brain cell, Baekhyun and Lucas cheered, “I love this song!” and Lucas cranked the radio’s volume so high that the car bounced on soundwaves.

For Mark to hear over Lucas and Baekhyun’s deafening voices, I had to yell, “Where are we going?”

Mark’s face scrunched, confused. “Huh?” Then, a figurative light shone over his head. “We’re meeting the other guys at the campsite by the lake.”

Anxious once more, I asked, “Who’s going to be there?” But Mark had joined Lucas and Baekhyun in singing a song I couldn’t recognize, so he didn’t hear me.

My question went unanswered until Lucas helped me out of the backseat, and I looked over to see Taeyong, Ten, Kai, and Taemin gathered around a campfire. They were laughing at something, and their laughter grew louder as they raced to greet us.

Kai’s smile fell and crashed around his bare feet in the sand as his eyes settled on me. “What’s she doing here?”

Ten glared at him. Because I didn’t want to be a source of tension in the group, I scrambled to make a joke. Turning to reveal my bound wrists, I chuckled, “Well, believe me, I’m not here by choice!”

Suffice it to say that I hadn’t predicted the ensuing argument.

“What the hell?” Taeyong growled. When I turned to face him, he was cutting Baekhyun with his eyes. “Is this what you meant by ‘drastic measures?’ Kidnapping Lei from her house?”

“Don’t criticize your leader’s methods!” Baekhyun scolded as he pulled a drink— something I couldn’t quite see in the moonlight— out of a cooler in his car’s trunk. After gulping through half of the bottle, he said, “I got Lei here, and that’s more than you can say.”

Taeyong rolled his eyes, and Ten said, “Momager is definitely going to notice that Lei’s gone, and she’s going to kick your asses—” he gestured to Baekhyun, Lucas, and Mark— “and ground you, and take your phones—”

“I don’t want to get my ass kicked!” Mark pouted.

“And I don’t want to get my phone taken again,” Lucas sulked.

Baekhyun yelled, “if I’m going down, I’m taking all of you down with me!”

Kai argued, arms crossed, “Like hell I am! I didn’t even want her to come!”

I wished harder than ever that this was just another nightmare. Maybe, I thought, if I blinked enough, I would wake in my bed far away from this fighting, away from Kai’s scrutinizing stare. Fidgeting with my restraints while everybody was too busy bickering to notice— even Taeyong, who focused his rage on Baekhyun’s “poor leadership”— I wandered past the campfire.

Had I been wearing a jacket to shield myself from the cold mid-October nighttime breezes, it wouldn’t have been such a bad night to spend outdoors. The stars were on full display, and the moon was a sterling crescent so bright that I thought, were my wrists not bound, I could have reached out and grabbed it out of the sky and put it in my pocket.

That was a silly thought I dreamed about often: holding the moon, carrying it around with me in the daylight as if I could protect it better than the sky. I don’t know who planted that dream in my mind or why, but I was always grateful for it.

While I kicked at some rock I found at the edge of the water, somebody stepped up behind me and tugged at the fabric around my wrists. Half expecting it to be Lucas, I wheeled around with a smart-aleck comment dancing on the tip of my tongue.

I swallowed my words and forgot them as Taemin stared at me with smiling eyes. He waved. His mouth was closed, it seemed, to give me the opportunity to speak first. Then, realizing that I wouldn’t (couldn’t), he softly said, “Turn around, and I’ll untie you.”

While he set to untangling the knots, he offered, “I’ll drive you home if you really don’t want to be here.”

“You have a driver’s license?” I would have asked if my teeth didn’t sink into my tongue when his soft fingertips brushed against my skin as he unraveled the fabric.

Taemin grabbed my shoulder to urge me to face him. His eyebrows were raised in anticipation of an answer, so I shook my head and crossed my arms, trying to rub my goosebumps away. Again, Taemin had stolen my voice, and I was shrinking or melting under his gaze that I couldn’t match.

“Are you cold?” Taemin noticed how I shivered, and I noticed how he traced his fingers along a sky blue ribbon that must have been used to tie my wrists.

I nodded, realizing that Baekhyun, Lucas, or Mark must have stolen from my vanity the ribbon I wore on my debut stage. I wasn’t particularly attached to it until Taemin suggested, “I’ll give you my jacket if you give me this ribbon.”

I hadn’t worn it once since that performance nearly seven years ago, and it seemed that Taemin’s touch was reviving its once radiant color that faded after being abandoned on my vanity for all that time, but my chest tightened at the thought of losing this symbol of my debut.

Why did Taemin want it anyway? What could he do with an old ribbon?

Taemin shed his light blue denim jacket and carefully draped it over my shoulders. Its warmth enveloped me; its soft fleece interior— snow white— tickled my arms.

Mumbling my thanks, I bowed, and Taemin said, “You don’t really have to give me this.” He held the ribbon out to me. “It’s just— I heard that if someone gives you a ribbon—”

“Aye, love birds!” Baekhyun screamed at me and Taemin. He and the other boys, still wearing scowls, were gathering around the campfire. Beckoning me and Taemin over, Baekhyun announced, “We’re gonna play Truth or Dare!”

Before we obeyed Baekhyun, Taemin offered me the ribbon again. I shook my head, saying, “You can keep it if you want it.”

Not wanting to overanalyze my decision, I ran to sit down on a bean bag with Lucas. Here’s the problem: that bean bag wasn’t quite big enough for two people, so I nearly toppled onto the sandy, rocky ground. Thankfully, Lucas caught me— laughing as usual— and pulled me into his lap.

While Ten pretended to gag at us, Mark said, “Yo! Lei, there’s way more room with me!” although he sat on a bean bag identical to Lucas’s in every aspect except color; while Lucas’s was cotton candy pink, Mark’s was navy blue.

“Listen and listen good,” Lucas told Mark, “the most popular ship in S.M. is Leicas, not— well, your name and Lei’s don’t even fit together to make a ship name!”

Mark retorted, “Obviously, our ship name is Marklei, which is perfect because my name is actually—”

“I thought,” Baekhyun interrupted with a mischievous grin, “that the most popular ship in S.M. was Kai and Taemin.”

While Taemin offered a polite smile from his place on the ground at Kai’s side, Kai quietly glowered at the fire.

Oh, I sank, he really doesn’t want me here.

As if sensing my frown without seeing it, Lucas wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder. “So, are we gonna play Truth or Dare, or what?”

Baekhyun looked to Taeyong (who sat on a scarlet bean bag) for permission to start the game. Taeyong shrugged at the attention. “Why are you looking at me? I said that we should talk through our issues as a group. This Truth or Dare thing was your idea.”

Digging into his cooler, which I guess he pulled out of his trunk while I was talking to Taemin, Baekhyun chirped, “Oh yeah!” He held up a bottle. “Let’s start then!” After taking a swig, he passed the drink to Taeyong and asked, “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.” Taeyong took a small sip of the drink that he spit out when Baekhyun asked, “Do you think I’m a bad leader?”

(Maybe) trying to prevent the atmosphere around the game from souring, Ten roared, “Take another sip! The first one doesn’t count since you just sprayed it all over Taemin’s face.”

Taemin still smiled politely as he brought the hem of his shirt up to wipe at his face with the white fabric. Although my eyes had already darted away from the first glimpse at Taemin’s abs, Lucas pressed his hands over my eyes.

Lucas laughed as I swatted him away so I could watch Taeyong’s face burn crimson as he took another sip at Ten’s direction. Meeting Baekhyun’s gaze, which was icy despite his boxy smile, Taeyong answered, “I think you have the potential to be a great leader, but you play around too much. These guys—” Taeyong nodded vaguely at Lucas and Mark— “really look up to you, and I think you should consider that when you encourage them to participate in over the top schemes.”

Baekhyun had been towering over Taeyong, but as he processed the mindfully phrased advice, Baekhyun sat atop the closed cooler. My gaze shifted nervously from Baekhyun to Taeyong, wondering who might first break the silence, wondering if Taeyong would apologize for speaking his mind.

The silence was finally broken by Baekhyun. “You know, I’ve never been a leader before. There’s a part of me that wants to believe that I’m doing a good job just because I have the title. There’s a part of me that wants to say that you all should follow me because I’m the oldest. But maybe— you know, I’ve never led a team with unlimited members.”

Baekhyun smiled at Taeyong and offered him a handshake that was instantly accepted.

Their agreement was unspoken, but I understood: Baekhyun knew that he could learn from Taeyong’s leadership experience. Baekhyun held the title, and Taeyong respected that, but the success of our group did not depend solely on Baekhyun’s wild schemes or Taeyong’s rational lectures. They— Baekhyun and Taeyong— were two halves of a whole leader.

The tension between them hadn’t disappeared, and it probably never would. Left unchecked, the tension would have led to dissent; once addressed, it could better our group. This, I realized, was the merit of open communication.

Bearing this in mind, I wasn’t offended by Kai’s response to Taeyong’s question, “How did you feel when Lei was added to SuperM?”

Although he was resigned to hating me, Kai seemed reluctant to answer even after taking several sips of the drink passed over by Taeyong.

“Upset,” was all that Kai said at first. He only added more at Taeyong’s urging. “It’s just— we had something really good between the seven of us. We had something special with our fans. Adding an eighth member feels wrong to me. And adding a girl—”

“Dude,” Ten snarled, “don’t start with that sexist shit, or—”

“It’s okay,” I said, knowing that Ten wouldn’t stand down at anybody else’s request. I smiled to prove that I wasn’t wounded by Kai’s words although my heart was pounding and a blush was rising in hot splotches across my cheeks.

Kai was entitled to his opinion even if his opinion didn’t favor me, so I met his eyes and said, “Please continue.”

As if seeing me for the first time, Kai held eye contact with me. “It’s nothing personal. I just— having a girl in the group adds a lot of complications. Everybody’s already gonna be focused on you because you’re new. On top of that, the fans are going to criticize us no matter how we interact with you because you’ll never be one of the guys.”

(I didn’t even want to be one of the guys, but I wheezed at the word “never.”)

“Just in this last week of people knowing that you’re in the group, SuperM has been associated with your Lucas dating rumors. And now that you’re in a subunit together, it’s just gonna be the Lei and Lucas show, and that’s not fair after all the work we— all the work I have dedicated to this group.”

Either to rebel against Kai’s criticisms or to brace me against them, Lucas patted my shoulders.

Weirdly, though, I didn’t feel upset. My skin was tougher than anybody expected. Besides, I preferred this conversation with Kai to the months of silently avoiding each other. Understanding his grievances against me helped me understand him. Maybe by responding with the same honesty, I could help him understand me.

I had to try.

“You might not have been excited to work with me,” I started as Kai passed the bottle to Mark (because, for some reason, Taemin had walked away from the game), “but I was excited by the chance to work with you.”

Kai’s eyes broke away from Mark and settled on me. This time, his eyes were no longer filled with anger or apprehension; they were soft, warm, kind enough to encourage me to keep speaking authentically.

“I know you’re probably right.” I shook my head, stomach tightening as I admitted, “No, you’re definitely right. People would rather look at me and guess who I’m kissing behind closed curtains than appreciate how I contribute to the group. They would rather see me as Lucas’s other half than my own person. I hate that too.” I did. I hated it. I hated it. I hated it. “I’m sorry that my presence has affected what you’ve built with the other members, especially because I didn’t want— I don’t want—”

My voice broke as I tried to organize my thoughts. I think everyone assumed I was on the verge of tears because Mark gasped, and Lucas hugged me, and Baekhyun distracted himself by rooting through the cooler again, and Taeyong ran a hand through his hair like he always did when stressed, and Ten glared at Kai, and Kai apologized and crossed the distance between us to envelope me in a bone-crushing embrace.

“I can’t breathe,” I gasped, and Kai dropped me onto Lucas’s lap. After Kai returned to his seat, and the thick tension in the air dissipated, and Taemin returned wearing a relieved sort of smile, I concluded, “I’m genuinely honored to perform with all of you.”

The boys responded with over-enthusiastic coos (Baekhyun even pretended to faint) before Mark was dared to jump into the lake wearing all of his clothes.

When he returned shivering, Mark yelled over everyone’s laughter, “Just watch— if I catch a cold, Momager will avenge me!”

“Yeah,” Ten agreed before taking a swig of the drink even though it wasn’t his turn to play yet, “right before she beats your ass for doing such a stupid thing just because Kai dared you!”

I don’t know why they were so fearful of Mom physically attacking them. Mom rarely raised her voice, let alone her fists. Still, when everybody else laughed at Ten’s remark (except poor freezing Mark), I couldn’t help but laugh along.

“Yo, Lei,” Mark raised his eyebrows at me.

“Yo, Mark.”

“Truth or dare?” Mark handed me the bottle. Now that I held it, I caught the strong scent of strawberry.

It was a sweet strawberry wine. The alcohol barely stung on its way down my throat. “Truth,” I chose, unwilling to leap in the lake or perform any such task.

Mark took no time to consider a question. I guess he’d had enough time to think of what to ask me; or, more likely, Mark didn’t have to think before speaking. “NCT Dream is, like, your ultimate group, right?”

No, they weren’t. I never publicly claimed a favorite group, but if I had to choose, it would not have been a difficult choice.

“I like NCT Dream,” I replied carefully. “Is that the question? To name my ultimate group?”

Mark shook his head, “Nah.”

I sighed, relieved that I wouldn’t have to admit that SHINee was my ultimate group right in front of Taemin, who observed the game with smiling eyes.

“Who’s your bias in NCT Dream?” Mark asked, sitting on the edge of his bean bag.

Lucas groaned and, I imagined, cradled his face in his hands. “I cannot believe that you just got her started on—”

Excited by the sudden turn in the conversation toward my absolute favorite topic, I smiled and sat up as straight as I could. Mark’s hopeful expression should have prompted me to lie— to say that he was my bias— but I enthusiastically confessed, “Obviously, my bias is the love of my life, Na Jaemin!”

Dramatically clutching over his heart, Mark collapsed on his bean bag.

Baekhyun smirked. “Maybe it was Jaemin’s name you were moaning in your sleep!”

And Taeyong raised a single eyebrow at Baekhyun’s response before focusing on me. “Jaemin? The love of your life is Jaemin? Baby Jaemin?” His reaction was a little ridiculous considering that Jaemin was only about a year and a half younger than me.

“He’s not looking like such a baby in the comeback promotional pictures!” I patted around my pockets before realizing that I didn’t have my phone. I didn’t even have pockets because I was wearing black polka dotted pajama bottoms.

I held my hand out for Lucas to give me his phone, and he shook his head when I looked back at him. “No way, Lei, I’m not enabling you to thirst after—”

“You can use my phone!” Taemin offered, holding his phone up high above his head. Everybody gawked at him because he had been so silent throughout the game, and he chose to speak up about something so silly.

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have been able to look at Taemin for fear that I would never be able to look away. I wouldn’t have been able to speak to him. But to see Jaemin, I could do anything.

I leaped off of Lucas’s lap despite his laughing protests. Kai moved over to make space for me between himself and Taemin, reasoning, “I want to see the Dream comeback trailers, too,” as Taemin entrusted his phone to my hands. Sitting and setting the bottle of wine on the ground before us, I found the videos on YouTube and watched them with Taemin and Kai.

“Ah!” Taemin cried, “I can’t believe how tall Jisung is!”

“I know!” I beamed at Taemin’s enthusiasm and comfortably met his gaze for the first time. “No matter how tall he gets, though, I think he’ll always have the cutest baby face. Or at least I hope—”

“Alright!” Baekhyun whined, pounding his fist against the cooler. “I’m bored! Lei, ask somebody to play Truth or Dare! I command you as your leader!”

Taeyong shook his head at Baekhyun’s abuse of power while grinning.

Taemin held his hand out for the wine, so I gave it to him, asking, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Taemin said into the bottle.

Because I had been dying to know for what felt like an eternity, I asked, “What do you believe happens if somebody gives you a ribbon?”

“Huh?” Kai’s head quirked curiously.

Ten asked, “Is that code for something?” and I pictured from his tone that his eyebrows wiggled suggestively.

Baekhyun wailed, “It’s not a fair question if nobody else knows what you’re talking about!” But I didn’t care much whether it was a fair question.

Taemin’s face turned a pale pink, and a smile tugged gently at the corner of his lips. He reached a hand into the pocket of his hoodie where I dreamed he kept the ribbon. “I’m not sure, but I hear it has something to do with soulmates.”

Just like that, I couldn’t meet his eyes anymore.

As the boys erupted into chaotic screams, and my eyebrows knit together in confusion— heart fluttering at the word soulmates as my mind raced to decide whether they were real— Taemin stood to pass the bottle to Ten.

Ten chose dare, so Taemin dared him to call the seventh person on his recent call log (who happened to be Kun) and sing the chorus of “Love Talk.” Being absolutely shameless, Ten accomplished his task without breaking into the slightest blush. Ten laughed the hardest when Kun said, “You really need to lay off the wine— I can smell your breath from here,” with ‘here’ being the WayV dorms miles away.

Then, Ten dared Lucas to perform the subunit choreography with me. Initially, I protested because I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of the members, grumbling, “Why should I have to participate in Lucas’s dare?” But everyone started clapping and chanting, “Leicas, Leicas, Leicas,” even Taemin and Kai, so I had no choice.

In the end, Ten’s dare turned out to be a clever scheme. Just seconds into the dance, he claimed, “You’re doing it all wrong!” Ten peeled Lucas off of me so he could place his hands around my waist and joke to Kai, “This is one of the benefits of having a girl in the group, ya know?”

In retribution, Lucas and I slapped at Ten, and Kai kicked at him, but— being so sneaky and elusive— Ten evaded all of our attempts at justice while laughing.

Once all of us sat down, Lucas dared Baekhyun, “Drop three ice cubes down your pants!”

While the other guys groaned at Lucas’s dare— Mark shrieked, “You take it too far, man!”— Baekhyun challenged, “Only three?” before dumping two overflowing handfuls of ice— retrieved from the cooler— into his black joggers.

Baekhyun’s resulting screams and the other boys’ laughter blended together in an inhuman cacophony. As Baekhyun reached for the waistband of his pants, I screamed, and Taemin shielded my eyes with his hands.

The game continued after the Ice Incident, but I have forgotten most of what happened in the aftermath. I’ve heard that stress does strange things to the human mind. However, I can’t forget that when he had the opportunity to ask me anything, Taemin asked, “Who is your ultimate idol?”

Crinkles formed around Ten’s eyes when he laughed. “Didn’t you hear when Lei yelled at me last round for asking who her bias in WayV is?”

Baekhyun said, “She only got mad because she didn’t want to choose between you and Lucas!”

That was partially true, but I would never admit it.

“No,” Kai argued, “she clearly said that she was tired of everyone asking who her biases are after you—” he glared at Baekhyun— “kept pestering her about who she likes in EXO!”

Baekhyun defended his actions by explaining, “I honestly thought that if I went through every subunit, through every era, she would eventually pick me! I didn’t expect it to be all Sehun, Suho, and—” he mimicked my voice— “‘Baekhyun, my CBX bias is always Xiumin, so quit fishing for compliments!’”

We all laughed at how poorly Baekhyun’s joking tone masked genuine wounded feelings, and he threatened me, “Just wait until Sehun finds out that he’s really your bias after all!” before whipping his phone out of his pocket.

“Anyway,” I focused my attention on Taemin as well as I could, but it’s impossible to look directly at the sun. “You want to know who my ultimate idol is?”

It wasn’t such a bad question. Being asked who your idol is isn’t the same as being asked who your crush is. My idol was somebody who inspired me with his talent— with his art. I shouldn’t have been afraid to identify him because, in a way, it was almost like introducing myself.

But nobody ever asked me who my inspiration was before. On talk shows, it was always about who I was dating, or who I was rumored to be dating, or my relationships with Super junior, or my ideal type. Always, in some way or another, people tried to understand me through my relationships with men. Maybe it wouldn’t have been half as frustrating if I were actually allowed to have relationships—

No. It was frustrating to never be appreciated on my own merit as a human being. It was always frustrating, even though I rarely admitted it to myself.

Oblivious to my internal monologue, Taemin nodded, and I took a deep breath. If I kept thinking so hard about it, I would lose all nerve, so I forced myself to reply quickly, “You are.”

The guys— except Taemin, who seemed stunned by my answer— took turns gagging.

“Oh,” Taeyong teased, raising his eyebrows, “so it’s not the love of your life Na Jaemin?” He had been smug since learning that he was my bias in NCT 127.

Ten accused, “Lei, I bet your favorite comeback is ‘Move’ or ‘Want.’ You know, one of the really sensual ones, where Taemin moves like this.” Ever the show off, Ten jumped at the opportunity to perform Taemin’s choreography.

Kai and Mark were in agreement that “Well, those dances are pretty iconic,” but Lucas set the record straight.

“No, you guys got it all wrong. Lei is the kind who likes for a song to kick her right in her emotions, ya know? When she got ‘Want’ for her birthday, she put that ‘Monologue’ song on repeat. Her favorite SHINee song? The hella intense ‘An Encore’ or ‘From Now On.’ I thought she’d never leave her room again when Taemin performed ‘That I Was Once By Your Side’ on TV! I went over to her house three times that week— because, ya know, Mom is the best cook ever— and that song was on nonstop replay, and—”

“Alright!” I picked a marshmallow out of a bag Taemin retrieved from his car and threw it right at Lucas’s big head. “They get it!” And everyone looked at me to confirm Lucas’s claims, so I admitted, “Look— obviously ‘Move’ and ‘Want’ are iconic, okay? But at the end of the day, I like for a song to make me feel something, I don’t know, tear inducing.”

My tone was harsh, biting, and I glared at Lucas because I thought my personal preferences— especially my thing for emotional ballads— were a little too private to be brought up at a game of Truth or Dare. I knew the guys probably didn’t care much or at all about which Taemin songs I liked, but I felt like I (or, rather, Lucas) had shared too many of the pieces of identity I held closest to my heart.

Taemin ended his silence (which weighted my heart with the fear that he thought I was weird) by saying, “‘An Encore’ is my favorite song too.”

That was all he said before leaning forward so that his bright toothy smile, which was somehow far more beautiful than the usual polite closed-mouth grin, was an unavoidable display right before my eyes.

“Lucas, it’s cold,” I shivered, hoping that none of the others would overhear my complaint from their tents. I didn’t want to have a reputation for being the high maintenance member even if secretly (not so secretly) I was.

Lucas rolled over in our blanket fort to pin me under his weight again.

Suffocating, I hissed, “What are you doing? I told you already— stay on your side of the tent!”

“You’re cold,” he mumbled sleepily into my ear, “so obviously I’m warming you up with cuddles!”

Nobody on this planet craved cuddles more than Lucas, I swear. That arrangement— the warmth emanating from his body as he tucked his arm snugly around my waist— would have been perfect, romantic even, if I wanted Lucas that close to me in any version of the universe.

“Get off, Lucas!” I struggled in vain to untangle our limbs. It was impossible because he was taller, heavier, and stronger than me. “When I said that I was cold, I was hoping that you would pass me another blanket or—”

Unsympathetically, Lucas hummed, “I guess you should have kept Taemin’s jacket on.”

It was a cheap shot— trying to stun me into silence by mentioning Taemin— but Lucas wasn’t above committing that kind of foul.

I retorted, “I guess you should have thrown a travel bag together for me before aiding Baekhyun and Mark in their kidnapping plot—”

“You’re still going on about that?” Lucas huffed as if I would forgive or forget any time soon, especially with the total lack of apology. “Lei, I told you that I packed extra boxers that you can borrow—”

“I am not interested in borrowing your underwear, Lucas!”

Resolving that there was no other option, I forced both of my hands to the parts of his ribs just below his armpits, where I knew he was most ticklish. I basked in triumph as his entire body writhed in laughter, and I could finally muster the strength to push him away in his weakened state.

Lucas must have packed more than boxers in his duffel bag, I reasoned, and I had crossed most of the distance in our tiny tent to investigate that suspicion when he tackled me into the fluffy blanketed floor.

“Get off, Lucas!” Repeating myself was a waste of breath, but the words tumbled out of my mouth anyway.

He rolled me onto my back so I could watch his face contort with his maniacal laughter, so he could watch the panic that flashed in my eyes as I realized that I had started a tickle war. My eyes tightened closed, and I held my breath in anticipation of a touch that never happened.

As if Heaven or Hell intervened either to rescue from Lucas’s insanity or to one-up his chaos, the tent came crashing down around us. I guess Lucas took the blunt of the force because as I struggled to crawl out from under the orange fabric, he screamed something like, “My family jewels!”

That outburst, I think, was the cause of Ten’s and Baekhyun’s identical laughter that I witnessed as I emerged, breathless, from the collapsed tent.

“Mark wanted to wake you up,” Ten started, and Baekhyun finished, “but we told him that he probably didn’t want to see whatever was going on in that tent.”

Sitting on the hood of his car, Taeyong laughed, but he masked his laughter by pretending to choke on his breakfast bar.

Ten and Baekhyun, disappointed with my lack of response to their perversion, set to helping Mark untangle the still groaning Lucas from the tent.

Taemin was standing, leaned against Taeyong’s car, making a face that I thought was a reaction to Ten and Baekhyun’s stupid joke. He looked like he had chewed through a lemon.

“Lucas and I—” I started to explain that nothing that happened in the tent— well, nothing than Lucas annoying me, as usual— but I stopped when Taemin faced me with a smile.

Oh. I wanted to slap my forehead. He had been squinting at the over-enthusiastic bright morning sun. Taemin didn’t care about what Lucas and I did or didn’t do. Why would he?

“Um.” I should have been content to fall to silence, but I couldn’t say nothing with Taemin looking at me like that, like he was excited to hear whatever I had to say. Not wanting to talk about Lucas, I said, “I left your jacket in the tent.” I gestured over my shoulder with a thumb and followed my own gesture to see that Mark, Baekhyun, and Ten were no closer to rescuing Lucas.

Actually, it looked like they had wrapped him up into something resembling a burrito. Knowing them, that was probably their intention. Jokers, even at the crack of dawn.

Taemin’s voice claimed my attention. “Don’t worry about it.”

His hands were shoved into the front pockets of impractically tight black jeans. He had traded last night’s white hoodie for a black one. When his hand carded through his soft blonde— almost brown— hair, I thought he knew that he looked like a character from the pages of a young adult novel or a movie that makes every girl’s heart race.

But then I saw the blue ribbon, my blue ribbon, tied around his wrist, and I knew that Taemin was up to something that I didn’t understand or trust.

“It’s yours, you know.”

I figured that he was talking about the ribbon. For some reason, I felt so embarrassed that, for a split second, I vaguely regretted giving it to him when I barely knew him as anything more than an immaculate figure on stage. For some reason, I glared at him because I couldn’t believe that talk about soulmates, and I couldn’t understand why he should want to be mine— even if it was pretend or convenient or, like Ten said last night while dancing with me, one of the benefits of having a girl in the group.

Had Taemin been anyone else in the world, I would have barked that I was tired of being everybody’s safe crush— the person Lucas could cuddle because the fans shipped it and there were no real feelings involved, the person Mark could pine after shamelessly because I would never let the feelings lead us anywhere, the person Sehun liked to flirt with because there was no risk of slipping into a relationship due to my refusal to date.

I’m glad I admired Taemin too much to lose my temper; I would have felt stupid for ranting when he said, “The jacket, I mean. The jacket is yours. We made a trade, remember?”

“Oh.” I felt stupid even though my rant hadn’t left the confines of my mind.

Probably somehow bothered by our conversation— or maybe taking pity on my inability to talk to Taemin like a normal person— Taeyong knocked his knuckles against the hood of his car. “Lei, Kai said that he wants to talk to you before you leave.”

I grinned, relieved that Kai and I had made some progress toward friendship during Truth or Dare. I thought that even if he still hated me, I would have raced to find Kai to distract me from whatever fire Taemin struck in my mind or chest or stomach.

“Where is he?” I asked.

Taeyong pointed toward the water. Taemin offered to walk me there, and I blurted, “No.”

Taemin winced at my instant rejection, and Taeyong leaped off of his car to oversee the others’ progress in freeing Lucas.

I had to come up with a quick explanation for Taemin. I couldn’t tell him why I didn’t want him to walk with me even if I understood (and I didn’t), but I also couldn’t leave him sulking by Taeyong’s car.

“I have to apologize,” I decided, and Taemin’s forehead wrinkled. “I feel like I owe Kai a private apology, and if you’re there— well, it won’t be so private then, will it?”

Taemin shrugged, and I knew he didn’t buy my reasoning, but he gave me that polite smile. The closed mouth one. The one I was starting to think was more of a habit than a genuine expression. I stared at him, and he bowed, and that meant it was time for me to leave.

It’s funny that after rejoicing in having a reason to leave just moments before, I should search so desperately for a reason to stay standing with Taemin. There were no reasons, so I set off toward the water to find Kai while contemplating Taemin’s smile.

I had no right to crave his authentic expressions, yet I was reeling from receiving such a rehearsed gesture as that tight-lipped grin. I was stupid— for glaring at his ribbon symbolism and then for frowning at the behavior that was perfectly appropriate among colleagues, among acquaintances. This— this is why I didn’t mess with boys. I didn’t understand them, and I never wanted to before, so why did I want to think about Taemin’s smile even though it made me sick, even though it either filled my stomach with butterflies (when it was that bright, full, toothy smile) or tied it in knots (when it was that carefully molded meaningless grin)?

I forced the thoughts from the forefront of my mind and tried to ignore their nagging in the darker recesses when I sat next to Kai on the edge of a wooden pier. The pie wasn’t that tall, so Kai’s bare feet kissed the water’s surface. I imagined that with a little effort, I could make my feet reach the water, but I was content enough with the breeze breathing on my skin.

“Good morning, Kai,” I greeted. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t there just on Taeyong’s orders; I really wanted to talk to him.

“Good morning.”

Kai didn’t look at me directly; he met my eyes in my reflection on the water. He probably didn’t mean anything special by it, but I wanted to think that he was trying to make it easier for me to speak to him. In these past months of working together, he either stared at me, though me, or went to inconvenient lengths to look away from me. This place where we met on the water was a happy medium. It was like meeting halfway.

“I meant what I said last night,” he said, and I guessed that’s why he told Taeyong that he wanted to talk to me. “And I’m sorry.”

I nodded. “I know. I meant what I said too.” Not to make my ramblings to Taemin true but because I meant it, I added, “I’m sorry too, Kai.”

He smiled. Such a genuine smile had to be appreciated directly from the source, not through a rippling reflection on the water, so I looked at him. He looked at me. “You don’t have to call me Kai. You can call me Jongin.”

Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal to everyone, but I always felt wary of the difference between a stage name and a birth name. Lei was my name on stage and in life, and I often wondered what it would have been like to have separate names. Would that have made it easier to distinguish me (the person) from me (the idol)?

Lucas said that I thought too much when I asked him whether calling him Yukhei or Xuxi would make him my best friend. “I’m your best friend no matter what you call me, silly. Don’t ya know a name’s just a name?” He flicked my forehead, unaware that he had expressed a sort of wisdom penned by Shakespeare. (I know Lucas said it didn’t matter, but I feel like I should explain that I ended up calling him Lucas because he laughed at my pronunciations of Yukhei and Xuxi.)

I knew I wouldn’t make a habit of calling Kai by his birth name because I just didn’t know him well enough for it to sound right coming from my mouth. I should have just forced through my discomfort if sharing his name with me was a way to express the desire for friendship— if calling him Jongin was the way to become his friend— so I tried it just once when I said, “Okay, Jongin.”

That moment I shared with Kai was the happiest I had been since joining SuperM, and it couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes before Heechul came running onto the pier, screaming, “I’ve found her, I’ve found her!” His chin length black hair was tousled by the wind, his eyebrows were gathered together as his eyes narrowed at me, and the swollen bags under his eyes were an exhausted purple. Heechul hissed, “What were you thinking, sneaking out like that? You mother and I looked for you all night!”

Ah, so that explained the dark bags under his eyes. I opened my mouth to ask how they finally found us, but Kai’s voice filled the air. “It’s not Lei’s fault. Baekhyun—”

Kai was going to explain that Baekhyun, Lucas, and Mark had kidnapped me from my room. That was the truth, and maybe they deserved to be punished for being so dumb, but I didn’t want them to get in trouble— especially not after I had finally started to fit into the group (at least in part) because of their efforts.

“Baekhyun talked me into going camping with everyone,” I said as Mom stood at Heechul’s side. They really did look like siblings wearing the same hairstyle and matching tracksuits— bright red— with their hands on their hips as they eyed me suspiciously. “Really! We needed the group bonding, and I didn’t want to interrupt your drama to tell you where I was going, and—” I knew this would push Heechul’s buttons, so I don’t know why I said this unless I wanted to watch his eyes pop out of his head— “I’m 21 years old, so ,technically, I’m allowed—”

“You are never allowed to give me a heart attack like that! No matter how old you are!” Heechul yelled, so Mom had to be calm even if she didn’t want to be.

“I’m tired.” Her voice was a mumble, and I knew that was my cue to leave. After waving goodbye to Kai on the pier and the other boys on the beach (Their heads were hung in shame at having been caught by Mom and Heechul with the rising of the sun.), I crawled into the backseat of Mom’s SUV.

Heechul passed out as soon as his head hit the passenger seat’s headrest. Trusting that he wouldn’t hear our conversation, Mom started the car and said, “I know you didn’t sneak out, Lei, and I know that I don’t need to explain how recklessly you all behaved.” She eyed me sternly through the rearview mirror. “You need to think about what it means to be the only girl in a group of boys, and you need to decide what you want your reputation to be before the tour stats tomorrow.”

In all my life, I had never really been scolded by Mom. It was worse than I could have imagined. Although she turned her eyes away from me quickly— her stare had lasted just a few seconds— the disappointment seemed to linger over me. I couldn’t tell if I had concerned her as a Mom or as a Manager. I couldn’t tell which was worse, and I wanted to say that I was sorry, but my throat felt too tight to speak.

The pounding of my heart quickened when I noticed it in the space next to me on the back seat: Taemin’s folded denim jacket. I couldn’t wear it with Mom sneaking those glances at me; she would ask where it came from. I couldn’t wear it out in public; it was noticeably too big, and fans would imagine that it had been given to me by a boyfriend. It would only be a matter of time before super fans started tagging me in pictures of Taemin wearing the same jacket.

What good was having a jacket that I could never wear? It was wasteful. It was a token of a memory I couldn’t quite understand.

And still, I felt like I would have to thank Taemin at Donghae’s birthday party.

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murasaki-murasame · 5 years

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Thoughts on Fruits Basket 2019 Episode 12: “You Look Like You’re Having Fun”

My brain’s still kinda fried from the Sarazanmai finale, so my thoughts might not be super coherent or detailed this week, but I still wanna write up my thoughts on this new Fruits Basket episode, especially since it was even better than I expected it to be.

Thoughts under the cut. [Spoiler warning for the whole manga]

I think I’ve said before that by this point we’re in the midst of a fairly good stretch of episodes where the reboot is going to be very similar to the 2001 anime in what material it covers in each episode, and that continues in this one, as I figured.

This episode covers chapters 19 and 20 of the manga, which is the same as what episode 13 of the 2001 anime covered, and from what I remember of that version, the two versions are pretty identical in how they just adapt the manga 1:1, so there’s nothing particularly noteworthy there. I think episode 13 of the 2001 anime was one of the relatively few times where I think they actually did a good job of preserving the emotional depth and darkness of the manga, but I still think this episode did an even better job.

I’m kinda meh about the whole first half [since I’ve never really been the biggest fan of the part of the manga to begin with, which I’ll get into in a minute], but the whole second half with Akito was fantastic. It had been heavily teased at in some of the PVs we’ve gotten, but it still managed to be even more disturbing than I was expecting. It’s not like they added in anything that wasn’t in the manga [aside from a short flashback to that one time Akito had a mental breakdown and painted Yuki’s room black, which I don’t think had been hinted at this early in the manga], but it just executed the material really perfectly. [Though I think the bit at the start of the episode with Tohru seeing Akito’s car pull up at the school might have been a new scene]

The improved voice acting and animation really help drive home the extent of Yuki’s trauma in particular. Even though this is like the billionth time I’ve seen this scene in some form or another, it still kinda shook me, lol.

This whole part also really goes to show how important Tohru is as a person to Yuki, and also to all the other zodiac members in general. She’s someone that’s willing to stand up for him, and to give him happy memories to help outweigh his bad ones. Especially with his whole monologue near the end, I think the badminton scene is probably where he first becomes at least subconsciously aware of how he’s seeking out a mother’s love from her.

Come to think of it, it’s kinda funny how recently we’ve been in a bit of a pattern of going from a fun episode to a more dark one, and so on. It’s not a complaint or anything. I think it does a nice job of not spending too much time in a row on a particular emotional tone. And that sorta pattern should hold up with how the next episode is gonna be Ayame’s introduction, and after that we should get Momiji’s backstory and the grave visit.

And on the note of Ayame’s intro being the focus of the next episode, I’m still curious to see if they incorporate the part where Tohru and Yuki visit his shop in chapter 36 into it, or if they’ll just stick to adapting chapters 21-22 alone, and leave that other chapter for later. I don’t think it’d change much one way or another, but still.

Anyway I guess I gotta address the elephant in the room and say that I’m just not really a big fan of the material covered in the first half of this episode. I don’t hate it, but I just don’t like it as much as like 99% of the fandom seems to.

For one thing, that one Tohru-Kyo scene has always stuck out to me as being a little too . . . generic shojo romance-y for my tastes. It’s one of those few moments where the series unironically indulges in Kyo’s Bad Boy Aesthetic [tm] and it just doesn’t work for me. But I obviously get why lots of people love it.

The part that I’m more annoyed at is the whole sequence with Haru and Momiji’s outfits, and I feel like it’s something that I need to add a whole list of disclaimers to so that people don’t misunderstand me, lol. I just feel like it’s a really good example of how Takaya’s heart is genuinely in the right place when it comes to some of the more progressive sentiments in the series, but the specific angle she approaches certain things at leaves a really bad taste in my mouth, especially when you think about the story as a whole and how things end up.

Specifically I just have issues with how Momiji’s cross-dressing is handled. The part with Haru is fine and I definitely appreciate the whole point of how whether or not someone wears jewelry and piercings and stuff has no inherent bearing on their personality, though the whole bit with him dragging Makoto off to the bathroom, uh . . . maybe hasn’t aged well, lmao. But anyway, I feel like the whole thing with Momiji seems perfectly fine on the surface, but the more you think about it in the context of the whole story, the more it feels uncomfortable.

The message that he should wear whatever he feels comfortable wearing is completely valid, but I just dislike how the story goes about it by saying that ‘it’s fine because he looks good in it, and he’s going to dress normally when he grows up anyway’. There’s a lot going on between the lines here, but I just think it’s really shitty and deceptively regressive that they justify it by pretty much saying ‘don’t worry, it’s just a phase, he’ll grow out of it and dress like a “normal man” later on anyway’. Which is bad enough on it’s own, but then we actually get to see him grow up later in the manga and he definitely does seem to unceremoniously switch to more conventionally masculine fashion because . . . it’s what’s expected of him, I guess? It’s not like he ever seemed to lose interest in wearing feminine clothing, he just stops wearing it after he hits his growth spurt, and it’s framed as something natural and inevitable.

Even the sentiment of ‘he looks good in it, though :)’, in the context of the series as a whole, carries this uncomfortable undertone of ‘it’s fine because for the moment he’s short and looks sort of “like a girl” but once he gets taller and looks more “like a man” he’ll obviously start dressing like one’. It’s the sort of thing that seems like a genuinely progressive and accepting message about how we shouldn’t judge people for the clothes they like to wear, but if you look closely there’s an asterisk and a whole paragraph of fine text at the bottom of the page about how it’s actually only acceptable to cross-dress as a man if your body type, height, etc, make you look ‘like a girl’ in the first place, and that once you hit puberty you should dress like a man because feminine clothing ‘doesn’t fit you anymore’.

In general this series has some weird recurring hang-ups about the specific idea of ‘men wearing girl’s clothing’, to the point where it comes up in different ways with at least three different characters. I know it’s something that a lot of people in the fandom don’t like hearing negativity and complaints about, but I’m not gonna shut up about this, lmao. Y’all just have to deal with the fact that this series isn’t perfect and that I’m allowed to criticize it while also really liking other parts of it.

And on the general note of how the series kinda drops the ball when it comes to pretty much everything to do with gender presentation, this episode brings us another round of the fun game known as ‘the Fruits Basket fandom is in shocked-pikachu.jpg mode at the fact that pretty much every new fan immediately “““figures out”““ that Akito’s a woman’. I wonder what gave it away? Was it that unavoidably female voice? The feminine/androgynous character design that’s explicitly compared to Yuki who’s already meant to look like a girl [apparently]? The fact that we’ve only ever seen Akito wearing either the sort of kimono that at least from a Western perspective would seem very feminine, or this tight-fitting turtleneck sweater? The fact that she’s had romantically/sexually charged moments with at least one or two dudes, which for better or worse ends up making most people view her as being feminine? The fact that like 90% of the dialogue referencing Akito ends up not even using gendered pronouns in the first place? I wonder what could have possibly lead to people naturally assuming that Akito’s a girl and glossing over the, like, five lines of dialogue thus far that even use he/him pronouns toward her, lmao.

One way or another, Akito being a girl has always been the biggest non-twist of the entire series, and the fact that it’s so obvious and that the only reaction new fans have to it is pretty much just ‘oh ok I didn’t really think it was meant to be some kind of shocking surprise or anything’ really just spells out how it’s not even meaningful or interesting as a twist anyway, and that knowing about it from the start does absolutely nothing to hinder anyone’s enjoyment of the series. It’s honestly hard to even tell for new fans that we’re even meant to feel convinced that Akito’s a man, with how little effort the series ever puts into ‘hiding’ her true gender.

I probably sound angrier about this than I am, but mostly I’m just baffled that even though the manga’s been over for like 15 years, people still don’t realize how incredibly lame and shallow this whole plot point is. Like seriously, y’all, what could the reboot have even DONE to actually lead to it not being super obvious that Akito’s a woman? Unless they outright changed her character design to be a lot more masculine, the only thing they could have done would have been to give her a male voice actor, which was almost certainly never going to happen for obvious reasons. I guess what I’m saying is that it’s not like it’s the reboot’s fault that things turned out this way. There’s only so much they reasonably could have done. And even though I haven’t heard much of Akito’s new dub voice, I think Maaya Sakamoto actually does a very good job at sounding androgynous/masculine, and in general her voice work in this episode was really effective and disturbing. I think she’s one of the most masculine-sounding female VAs they could have gone for [aside from maybe someone like Romi Park or Megumi Ogata, but I don’t know if they would have fit Akito very well]. I guess it mostly just bugs me that people are blaming the reboot for something that’s 90% just them following the manga.

Anyway, in spite of my gripes [which are more about the fandom and the series as a whole], this episode was still super good in and of itself, and had some of the most effective voice acting and music that the entire reboot’s had thus far. It’s very obvious why new fans in particular would really really like this one, and for the most part, I do too.

Also, Haru t-posing when he sees Yuki and running over to tug on his shirt is still the most Iconic [tm] thing ever, don’t @ me.

#murasaki rambles #fruits basket #y'all ready for PAIN? for EMOTIONAL ABUSE and TRAUMA? cause that's what this episode is about :)

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